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Abstract of THE BENJAMIN MINOR, or the Preparation

of the Mind for Contemplation, by Richard of St. Victor

Translated, with an Introduction
by
Anne Chamberlain Garrison
a thesis for the degree of Ph. D.
Michigan State University

Department of English

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Anne Chamberlain Garrison

The BENJAMIN MINOR of Richard of St. Victor

The thesis is divided into two parts. The main body of the
work consists in a translation of the 12th century Latin treatise

entitled the Benjamin Minor. This extremely complex and ingenious

 

example of allegorical Scriptural exegesis is here translated into
English for the first time. Previous renditions into Middle English
were mere synopses. The text used is that of Migne, edited to the
extent of removing palpable typographical errors, which are listed
under Textual Emendations.

The introduction and appendices make up half the dissertation.
Brief introductory sections deal with the nature of the particular
problem of translation, the Augustinian literary style exemplified,
and the literary value of the work. As the text has never received
thorough-going study in English, it seems necessary to examine it
from several pertinent points of view, most especially those of
literary history and of the development of the allegorical mode of
thought. This is the only exhaustively and consistently developed
work of its nature, and study of it sheds light on the nature of
allegory both as a critical process and as a creative one.

Richard of St. Victor takes the Augustinian view that self know-
ledge, developed through moral training, leads finally to the practice
of contemplation and the knowledge of God. He expounds the steps of
this process as the allegorical significance of the Genesis narrative

of Jacob, his wives and his sons. The influence of the Benjamin Minor

 

is traced, beginning with Bonaventure, touching upon German and

Flemish devotional works, and concentrating upon English mystical

Anne Chamberlain Garrison

writings, mainly of the 14th century. The chief English treatises
are examined with reference to the allegorical content, which proves
to be considerably less in evidence than the psychological approach
inherited from Richard.

The following section deals with the history of allegorical
exegesis before the 12th century. Beginning with Philo, a close
examination is made of the treatment outstanding exegetes such as
Origen, Ambrose, Augustine and Walafrid Strabo gave to the same
Genesis narrative. It is evident that no one before Richard handled
this material with a like fineness or thoroughness. Since no subse-
quent work attempts so ambitious a figurative interpretation, the

Benjamin Minor is unique.

 

The allegorical structure is then ravelled out into the component
strands of literal and figurative meanings and of Richard's comments
upon his method of disclosing valid non-literal content. A diagram
accompanies this section to show the way he develops his speculative
theological system out of the narrative material.

There follows a discussion of the reason for the composition of

the Benjamin Minor, and its place in the instruction given at the Victor-

 

ine school, which became a component part of the University of Paris.

Hugh of St. Victor's great teaching treatise, the Didascalicon, is

 

discussed both as exemplifying the school's aims and methods and as
specifically calling for a supplementary treatise on the moral pre-

paration for contemplation. Such a treatise is the Benjamin Minor,

 

written by Hugh's pupil and successor, Richard. The conclusion seeks

ta demonstrate

being part of

the service 0:

 

Anne Chamberlain Garrison

to demonstrate that the unique qualities of this work are due to its
being part of a definite educational program which put allegory at

the service of propaedeutics.

 

Richard of St. Victor, Benjamin Minor, in Migne, J. P., Patrologiae
cursus completus, serum latina (Paris, lBHu-SS), CXCV, 1-64.

 

 

 

THE BENJAMIN MINOR
or, The Preparation of the Mind for Contemplation

by Richard of St. Victor

translated, with an introduction

by

Anne Chamberlain Garrison

A THESIS

Submitted to the School of Graduate Studies of Michigan
State University of Agriculture and Applied Science
in partial fulfillment of the requirements

for the degree of

DOCTOR OF PHILOSOPHY

Department of English Ixflaf‘f

1957 0

Apr“

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

PAGE

ii
vi
ix

xi

xxiii
xlix

l

lxxi
lxxiii
lxxvii
xcvi
1-120

121-122

127

130

139
1M2

0 757a 5/
TABLE OF CONTENTS,
INTRODUCTION
I. Preliminary Observations . . . .
1. Purpose of the Study . .
2. Methodology . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
3. The Literary Style of the Benjamin Minor . . .
h. Intrinsic Value .
II. Influence of the Benjamin Minor , . . . . . .
III. The Historical Background of the Use of Allegory
in the Benjamin Minor . . . . . . . . . . . .
IV. The Benjamin Minor as Allegory . . . . . . . . . . .
1. Abstract of the Benjamin Minor . . . .
2, Richard of St. Victor's Remarks on Allegory . .
3. Evaluation of Richard's Use of Allegory . . .
V. The Victorine School . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
BIBLIOGRAPHY . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
TEXT . . . . . . . . .
TEXTUAL EMENDATIONS . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
APPENDICES
A. Augustine, Contggriaustum, selection . . . . . . . .
B. Isidore of Seville, Differentiarum, selection
C. Hugh of St. Victor, De Scripturis et Scriptoribus...,
selection . . . . . .
D. Middle English Synapsis of the Benjamin Minor,selection
E. Alanus de Insulis, Omnis Caro Foenum, with translation

INTRODUCTION
1. Preliminary Observations

1. Purpose of the study.

The purpose of this work can be simply stated. It is to make
available for the first time in English the whole of a mediaeval theo-
logical allegory in.Latin, whose influence has been widely felt in
Eur0pean literature, especially in our own language. In addition to
this importance, the treatise is of considerable interest in itself,
fer there is not another Scriptural allegory of the Middle Ages so
extensive in scape, so carefully deveIOped and so consistently main-
tained as the Benjamin Minor.

Its author, Richard of St. Victor, a Scot, died in 1173 as prior
of the immensely influential Abbey of St. Victor in Paris. As a.member
of the Canons Regular of St. Augustine, he was pledged to a life of
active good works and contemplation. As the director of the great
school of the Abbey, and successor to the philosqpher Hugh of St. Victor,
he was interested in teaching methods. As a follower of Augustine, he
believed that self knowledge was the surest means to knowledge of God.
The Begjamin £1322, his small masterpiece, exemplifies Richard's p081~
tion as theologian, teacher and allegorist. Starting with the Genesis
account of Jacob and his wives and sons, he sets forth a systematic
exposition of the soul's moral preparation for contemplation, a state

which he then describes in terms of the New Testament story of the

transfiguration. Oh so simple a framework of narrative, he constructs

 

ii

a'work that is as memorable and subtly contrived as it is ostensibly
artless.

Curiously enough, no complete translation of Richard's most pepular
work has ever been made. A.syn0psis of it appeared in English in a
devotional antholOgy printed in 1521} but it is quite unworthy of the
original. This neglected.Latin treatise thus deserves our attention
because of its intrinsic value and its great influence, but before
turning to these I should like to comment on my selection and treatment
of the text itself.

2. Methodology.

Migne's Patrologia.Latina devotes one volume to the works of
Richard of St. Victor. ‘Being himself appublisher rather than an editor,
Migne relied upon another edition for his text, apparently the one which
appeared at Rouen in 1650, though he does not explicitly state this.

He merely begins his volume with a life of Richard, noting that it was
published in that edition of his works. As my primary purpose was not
the establishment of a critical edition but rather the presentation of
the treatise for the use of the literary historian, I did not collate
this text with any other. Such a task remains very much to be desired,
but lies outside the range of this project. As the printed text con-
tains some fifty palpable typographical errors and a few obvious faults
in reading manuscript contractions, I took the liberty of correcting
these, in every case noting my emendations in a list appended to the

translation. I believe these changes will appear preper to the textual

 

1
Published.by Henry Pepwell, and reprinted in 1910 in The Cell of
Self-Knowledge, edited by Edmund C. Gardner.

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iii

scholar.

There is always a burden of self-justification laid upon the trans-
lator. It is one thing to persuade the reader that this treatise merits
his attention, but it is another thing to convince him that one's rendi-
tion of it does so. Hence a few words on my principles of translation.
A.word~by-word equivalence seldom reproduces the important factors of
sentence rhythm and the emphasis that rhythm provides. Accordingly,

I have looked upon the sentence or clause as the unit to be considered
rather than the word itself, and have, within this larger framework,
dealt fairly freely with its component words. To my way of thinking
the most faithful translation is thus achieved, for faithfulness depends
upon a large view of the expression of a complex thought.

As for choice of vocabulary: a work'based upon Scripture must
continue to bear the imprint of Scripture after being Englished. That
is to say, the translation must in its choice of words and phrases call
to mind a.familiar version of the Bible. This becomes largely an unn
conscious matter to the translator if his familiarity with Scripture is
of long standing. To illustrate: if asked out of context for the
English of institig, he will give it as justice, but in translating a
religious treatise he will automatically render the same word as Elghfir
eousngs , for only so will he evoke the response of Scriptural associar
tion in his reader.

It may be objected that a.modern version of the Bible, being more
faithful to the original Greek and Hebrew, would better govern a scholar's
choice of Scriptural vocabulary. Yet a translation should aim at repro-

ducing the whole complex of the response called forth by its original,

be familiar:
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The familiarity of the Vulgate to the 12th Century auditors of the
Benjamin Minor is best reproduced by the English version most familiar
to the educated modern reader. This is my Justification for reliance
upon the Authorised Version rather than upon a more recent one. There
are places, however, where Richard's text departs so much from our own
that I have had to turn to the Douay-Rheims Bible for a corresponding
English passage, and I have occasionally had to make my own translation.
Such departures from the Authorised Version are all noted. As the
numbering of the Psalms is different in the two versions used, I have
altered the numbers to correspond to the Authorized Version wherever
necessary.

is the style of Richard's treatise is somewhat reminiscent of
Augustine's, I have also familiarised myself thoroughly with the excel-
lent translation of the anfessions made by William Watts in 1631, as
substantially reproduced in the Loeb Library edition. The Watts version
takes some liberties with its original that I have not ventured to do
with mine, but the ease of its flow, the free discontinuity, the person-
al intensity, are as faithful to the style of Augustine as any translator
could hope to be. To the extent that a similarity exists between the
two Latin authors, a similarity may well exist between the two translap
tions. Further Justification for a degree of reliance upon the style
of the Watts translation lies in a.possible unity imparted to my rendi-
tion by the influence of this 17th century stylist writing just twenty
years after publication of the Authorized Version in 1611. The frequent
Scriptural quotations are accordingly set in a matrix suitable for them,

To keep such a tone is not to be archaistic. Theology, for the

literary reader, comes most appr0priately in the vocabulary of a familiar
Scriptural version and in the style of a great century of devotional
writing. It would falsify the simple directness of Richard to make him
speak with the tongue of Launcelot Andrewes or even of Jeremy Taylor,

but an echo of 17th century style is in harmony both with Scripture as

we are accustomed to read it and with a moral and theological work based
upon it.

As for the matter of aids to translation, the inadequacy of Latin
dictionaries is a perplexing one to the mediaevalist. The Oxford work
in this field is long awaited: meanwhile there is a choice between the
massive volumes of Du Gangs, not always as useful for theology as for
Carolingian law, and Souter's Glossggz, which is far too brief. These
have to be supplemented by a dictionary of Classical Latin. A.useful
glossary of mediaeval ghilosophical terms is found at the end of McKeon's
Selections from MediagzgliPhilgsgphers, but the usages are frequently
overaprecise for s.nonaphilos0phical theolOgian like Richard.

The following terms in the Benjamin Minor warrant attention. I
have not burdened my text with alternate meanings or Latin parentheses,
but I should state that certain words like doctrine carry more load than
might be expected. If one of the terms in the English definitions below
is used, the alternatives are likely to be present as overtones.

affectum: emotion, feeling, passion

affectio: affection, disposition, cast of character
commendatio: commendation, praise

dispositio: power, nature, order

doctrine: instruction, learning, principle

vi

historice: literally, historically
mystics: allegorically, anagogically
ordinatus: set in order, ordered, ordained,
brought under control
preprietas: prOperty, substance, special quality
-sententia: meaning, pronouncement, Opinion
spiritualis: allegorical, anagogical
3. The Literary Style of the Benjamin Minor
The Latin style of Richard of St. Victor, as I have mentioned, is
reminiscent of that of Augustine. While usually simpler and more
repetitious, as becomes a pedagogic work for oral delivery, the style
rises at times into fervent rhythmical prose of considerable intensity.
The warm personal note so noticeable in Augustine's Confessions is also
present in the Benjamin.Minor. The reader of the Latin is struck by
certain stylistic features that mark a long tradition from Late Latin
down to and including English metaphysical poetry. I illustrate some
of these devices:
Echoism
Hoc iteqme est illud iudicium quo quisque a.propria
conscientia convenitur, convincitur, condemnatur, et digna
confusionis poena.multatur. (So this is that judgment by
which every man is visited through his own conscience, and
convicted and condemned and.punished with a punishment worthy
of that offence.) (XLVIII).
Alliteration
Illius internae dulcedinis degustatione allecta. ([En-

ticed by] a sampling of interior sweetness.) (LXXXIII). Note

vii

that the last word of the phrase also echoes the first,
Wordelgz

De vitio orationis quam de vitio elationis. ([They
probably feel more shame] over the fault of speech than over
the fault of self-esteem.) (XLVI).

Involved_gpd Ornamental Phraseology

Neque enim mysterii huius, tam profunda sublimitas, et
tam sublimis profunditas debuit manifestari in valle. (Nor
should so profound sublimity nor so sublime profundity of
this mystery be made plain in the valley.) (LXXXIII).

In hac namque gemina ecclesia, cogitationum videlicet
st desideriorum, in hac gemina unanimitate studiorum et
voluntatum. (In this double church of thought and desire,
in this double single-mindedness of studies and of wills.)

(LXXXIV).

In the passage that follows, there is evident the intensified
fervent style to which this treatise rises. Note that added height is
achieved by a combination of the stylistic devices already enumerated:
here are exemplified in one place echoisms, alliteration, wordpplay,
and involved and ornamental phraseology:

Videsne quod nonnisi veritas in hunc montem deducit,

et adducit? Ipsa.ducit, ipsa.est quae perducit. Libenter

sequor veritatem, non habeo suspectum talem ducem. Novit

veritas ducere, nescit veritas seducere. Sed quid est veritas?

Quid tu dicis, doctor bone, doctor Christa, quid est veritas?

(Do you.not see that it is truth alone that conducts and brings

viii

us to this hill? Itself it leads and itself is that which
persuades us. I gladly follow truth; I do not distrust such
a guide. Truth is skilled in leading; truth is unable to
mislead. But what is truth? What sayest thou, good teacher,

Christ our teacher: what is truth?) (LXXVII).

In the following passage is the best example of Richard's heightened
style, a quietly forceful summation of allegory and theological system,
achieved through balance of phrase and sentence. These are the closing
lines of the treaties:

Toties ergo Joseph super collum Benjamin ruit, quoties
meditatio in contemplationem desinit. Tune Benjamin fratrem
suum.super se ruentem excipiat quando ex studio meditationis,
animus in contemplationem surgit. Tunc Benjamin et Joseph
oscula iugunt, quando divina revelatio et humane ratiocinatio
in una veritatis attestatione consentiunt. Videsne quomodo
divina.scriptura circa.unam eamdemque rem significationis
modum alternat, ubique tamen aliquid adiugit unde sensuum
suum ex toto latere non sinat? In morte Rachel contemplatio
supra rationem ascendit, in introitu.Benjamin in AEgyptum,
contemplatio usque ad imaginationem descendit, in deoscula~
tione Benjamin et Joseph, divina revelations humane ratio
applaudit. (As often, then, as Joseph falls upon Benjamin's
neck, so often does meditation end in contemplation. Benjamin
receives his brother who runs to meet him when the mind rises
to contemplation from the practice of meditation. Benjamin

and.Joseph kiss each other when divine retelation and the

Cl—

ix

power of human reason agree in a single attestation of the
truth. Do you not see how Holy Scripture alternates the mode
of signification of a single thing and how it adds something
else, so that the sense is not permitted to be obscure in
respect to the whole? In the death of Rachel contemplation
rises above reason; in the entrance of Benjamin into Egypt
contemplation goes down into the imagination; in the embrace
of Benjamin and Joseph, human reason is pleasing to divine

revelation.) (LXXXVII).

A striking characteristic of this work is its adaptation of the
mode of expression to fit the level of the discourse. The literal story
is presented in bare factual language; the allegorical meaning of the
greatest part of the treatise unfolds in a way that is apparently art-
less and relaxed. But when the last levels of the ascent to contemplas
tion are attained, Richard's style, as just illustrated, attains a
rapturous tension that is altogether in keeping with Benjamin's ”excess
of mind".

h, Intrinsic Value.

Though the Benjamin Minor has an historical influence that I shall
treat at some length, it should not be overlooked that the work possesses
a literary merit in itself. I have already discussed its stylistic
qualities, which entitle it to considerable respect. In addition, trap
ditional Scriptural allegory is employed with a good deal of finesse,
and the progress of the contemplative thdugh the stages of moral disci—
pline to the higher levels of religious experience is set forth with

great clarity by means of this allegory. As will be seen in the detailed

discussion of the work's structure, the allegory falls into two distinct
parts, one based upon Genesis and the other upon the Gospels, but the
integration of the two is handled so skillfully that no break in style
or thought is apparent.

Characterisation is not generally found to play a.part in works
of this nature. Yet Richard has repeatedly taken the trouble to make
his types act in accordance with the qualities he states them to possess,
If Bala.the handmaiden is described as a gossip, she is shown running
in and out with bits of news for her mistress, and talking even when
she has nothing to say, "as a decrepit old woman will do," remarks the
author, ”even in the absence of an audience." Such behavior becomes
this type figure representing the imaginative faculty. Zelpha, the
other handmaiden, who typifies sensuality, is shown plying her lady with
carnal pleasures in the form of tasty dishes, and thirsting insatiably
for strong drink. Similarly the sons of Jacob do not statically repre-
sent moral virtues as if they were painted figures with iconological
equipment: rather they'ggt, in watching the coastline, waging war, or
standing above the battle and surveying the conflict. The death of
Rachel, the power of reason, is described in terms of actual physical
suffering of a woman in difficult labor. Maintenance of this close

reference to a world of human action is unusual in mediaeval Scriptural

allegory.2

Another literary quality exemplified by Richard's work is economy

of means. This is not immediately apparent. So artless is the style

 

2
See Section III of this Introductionibr comparative examples
from other Mediaeval allegorists.

xi

and so rambling the discussion of the moral virtues that the treatise
seems formless until its close. The reader then realizes that a whole
system of moral preparation for contemplation has been set forth step
by step, pinned down in his memory for good and all by the use of fam—
iliar Scriptural material, and brought to a conclusion that is the start-
ing place for the technically more difficult Benjamin Major, which
treats at much greater length of the nature of contemplation, and signi-
ficantly enough relies much less upon allegorical means. The exposition
of the Benjamin Minor has taken relatively little space, the reader
realises. Nor has its compactness meant a sacrifice of a direct warmth
in keeping with an oral type of delivery. The hearer is invited to
participate in an action that is sufficiently detailed to carry convic-
tion. The exposition is skillfully handled, and very little of it

fails to contribute directly to the development of the author's theme.

II. Influence of the Benjamin Minor

There is no other work like the Benjamin Minor, Extended Scriptur-

 

al allegory, dramatically employed for the purpose of moral training,
does not appear again in literature, to the best of my knowledge.

Many subsequent writers draw upon various aspects of Richard's work,
but just as no author before him handles the entirety of his long
Scriptural narrative exegetically and allegorically, so none after his
time deals at such length with this type of material. The artistic

develOpment of literal and allegorical parallels in the Benjamin Minor

 

 

is more closely allied to the structure of the Divine Comegi than to

subsequent religious writing. Dante, like Richard, keeps up a

xii

deveIOpment of the exposition on more than a single level, and does so
consistently and at length, as we all know.

Strictly religious allegory subsequent to the Benjamin Minor, on
the other hand, tends to become static, to fail in sustaining the move-
ment of an engrossing literal narrative as well as a work of counsel or
instruction. The first instance that comes to mind is Bonaventure's
Itinerarium mentis ad Deum, written about a century after Richard's
work. It affords a good parallel, being written with the same end in
view: the moral preparation of the soul for contemplation. It even
uses the same motif of the ascent of a mountain. In a vision of the
six~winged seraph that appeared to St. Francis on Monte Alverno, Bona—
venture sees a revelation of the six stages of the journey toward the
beatific vision. These stages are the same as Richard's: beginning
with interpretation of natural things, man rises through self-knowledge
to contemplation of the divine. Understanding of the mystical meaning
of each pair of wings equips the student to rise to a new level of his
spiritual life. But there is no motion of the wings themselves, no

upward course to the moral development: the Itinerarium is purely schematic,

 

Richard, like Bunyan, dramatized moral training by couching it in terms
of physical stress and striving. Bonaventure, on the other hand, calls
upon the reader to meditate upon an aspect of religious experience, or
upon the meaning of a given set of symbols. A typical example is one
of many from The Mystical Vine:
Look, 0 Christian soul, upon the face of Christ your

saviour. Raise your eyes full of tears. and lift up your

head contrite and sobbing towards his torments. See what

great distress came to him, as he went seeking to find you.

Open, therefore. your eyes wide, that you may gaze upon the
face of Christ your sayiour: listen attentively with your

Q

xiii

ears to the things he has to say in his distress: and when

you.have heard them, lay them up in the cell of your heart,

for such treasure is priceless. Behold, too, the rough bed

on which he was 1aid—-I mean the bed of death, the cross,3

Richard, through use of literal narrative to carry his allegorical
meanings, involves the reader in experience, as does any story—teller,
Bonaventure, with no sustained allegorical structure, has recourse to
another means of involving his audience. Heightened emotional tone
serves his purpose. His discourse is affective rather than expository,
Moreover, the parallel of the person of Christ with the growing Vine
is as static as a woodcut. We can behold and feel: we cannot egperi—
2222, How much greater is our involvement with a work in which, as
readers, we fall into the Slough of Despond with Christian, or partici-
pate in moral battle with Richard's Gad and Asher, personifications of
warlike virtue! In Bonaventure, as in later devotional writers under
the Victorine influence,” the reader will note a degeneration of the
synthesis of allegory and theology. A rich inter-relationship of sus-
tained meanings is gone, and the didactic quality has outrun the imagi-
native.

Richard's complex inter-relationship of dynamic symbolic content
and literal framework finds its closest parallel among religious works
centuries later, in St. Teresa's Interior Castle, though here the frame-

work of the story is not strictly Scriptural. Yet writers closer to

his own time drew freely upon other aspects of his genius. Such qualities

 

392, cit.. p. 35.

h
The influence of Richard as an individual writer is in many places

less obvious than the influence of his Victorine school of thought. The
nature of this school will be discussed later.

xiv

as its expositional economy, characterization and mnemonic reliance

upon familiar Scriptural material must have had much to do with the
popularity the Benjamin Minor enjoyed, and the liberality with which it
was used. Subsequent contemplative writing draws heavily upon this work,

as I shall point out. My survey of its influence is necessarily incomplete

9

t

as it traces only that line of descent which benefited our own literature.
From Bonaventure, whom I have discussed, it is possible to pass

directly to the English mystical writers of the lhth century. It is

true that Richard's influence sometimes reached them at second and

third hand through Bonaventure or through their slightly older contem-

poraries, German Dominican writers such as Tanler, Eckhardt and Suso,

upon whom Richard had the greatest of influences.5

However, the works
of Richard, like those of his own master, Hugh of St. Victor, were widely
available in England through the houses of the Augustinian Canons, as
will appear.

1 Before passing to closer consideration of the literary influence
of the Victorines in England, let us recall that the Imitgtion of
gg;;;g_1s part of the filiation of religious works dependent upon this
school. Familiar as this work is to us all, being the most pepular
devotional handbook ever written and one of the most reprinted books
.in the history of printing, let us note that it exhibits the hall-mark
of pious writing stemming from 12th century devotional works. It

preserves the warm personal tone that Bonaventure, like Richard, had

exhibited, but the allegorical technique that undergirded moral

 

50f. Denifle, Die deutschen mystiker des 1h, jahrhunderts, p. 78.

counselling with narrative deveIOpment has vanished, leaving only
vestigial metaphors. The tone has become one fitting to the exhortation
of an unsOphisticatedly pious audience. Whether its authorship may be
finally attributed to Thomas a Kempis or not, it is identical in tone
with Thomas' other works.6 He was an kugustinian Canon, that is, of
the same order as the Victorines and within their theological tradition.
The Imitgtion reveals many similarities to meditative works of this
school. Almost at the close of the Imitation, for example, the author
treats at length of the preparation of the soul for contemplation in
a chapter that could serve as a.paraphrase of the theme of the Benjamin
Miggg, How accurately he follows the Victorine teaching may be demon-
strated in a single sentence:

'hosoever, therefore, with a single heart lifts up his

intention to God, and keeps himself clear of all inordinate

liking or disliking of any created thing, he shall be the

most fit to receive grace, and meet for the gift of true

devotion.7
This corresponds closely to the course of the discussion in Chapters
LX111 to LXXXII of the Benjamin Minor, an exposition of the soul's
meriting of the gift of grace.

The psychology of the Imitation is certainly Victorine in its
acceptance of the created order as a necessary step to the understanding
of spiritual things, and in its stress, both implied and explicit, upon

the process of self knowledge as preparation for the state of grace.

The student of the Benjamin Minor may marvel that detached aphorisms,

 

See the discussion of authorship in Vacant, Dictionnaire, s.v.
Thomas a Kempis.

711, IV, 3.

xvi

however pious, could have better served the purpose of moral training
than a.unified work in which the tropological intent soars on wings

of literal narrative, but such is the case. The Imitation's continuous
popularity for centuries testifies to its usefulness. How artistically
bare it is, still, in comparison with the subtly developed Benjamin!

An occasional metaphor is employed: Simplicity and Purity are ”two
wings [by which] man is lifted up from things earthly,"8 but such a
figure is drapped as soon as stated, having served only to introduce

a chapter upon the Pure Mind and the Simple Intention.

Returning to the direct line of descent from Richard to the devo-
tional literature of our own language, we find that the lhth century
in.England shared in the wave of pepular mysticism then prevalent in
Germany. As students of English literature, we are more closely con-
cerned with this aspect of the influence of the St. Victorine, and shall
consider in some detail the effect of his work upon English religious
writing. In the confusion of tangled threads of influences it is easier
to demonstrate that certain authors are within a general area dominated
by previous masters than that they derive a direct inapiration from
them. The works that follow are exemplars of a type of meditative writ—
ing that may derive in part directly from Bernard of Clairvaux or the
Victorines, or indirectly through Bonaventure, or at still another
remove, through the German Dominican pietists. Certainly such works
as Bonaventure's Meditations on the ngsion were widely influential.

Yet Richard is assuredly a chief direct influence; he has been considered

by at least one scholar as more important in this respect than either

 

811, 1v, 1,

xvii

Bonaventure or Bernard, being the greatest single influence upon the
English mystics.9

The first of these English writers of the lhth century to be con-
sidered is Richard Rolls, the Hermit of Hampole, in whose work there
is evident a close reliance upon Richard of St. Victor. In a didactic
work, "The Commandment," for example, he sets forth systematically the
degrees of love of God, in a schema apparently borrowed from the elder
writer's De Quattuor Gradibus. Hape Emily Allen, Rolle's editor, com-
ments as follows upon this borrowing:

At this time he evidently studied.Richard of St, Victor...

The Victorine was to be the master also of the later English

:ysticio(who thus, as at several points, followed Rolle's

sad).
Rolle's dependence upon the Victorine's teachings on contemplation is
the more curious in that the English hermit was a.pronounced enemy of
the communal religious life, while Richard himself adhered to the rule
of the Augustinian Canons, who were equally given to corporate good
works of teaching, administration or welfare, and to the cultivation
of an intensely personal religion.

In Walter Hilton, himself an Augustinian Canon who died in 1396,
Richard's influence is again apparent. Regarding the origin of his
mystical teachings in The Scale of Perfection, his editor, Evelyn
Underhill, remarks:

He depends upon St. Bernard and St. Bonaventure, and above

all on the great Augustinian Richard of St. Victor, whose
genius has affected every spiritual writer of the later

 

9Edmund G. Gardner, editor, The Cell of Self-Knowledge, p, xii,

loghgpfigglish Writings of Richard Rolle, p. 150, note to p, 7h,
lines 32 ff, '

xviii

Middle Ages. From him Hilton, like the rest of the English
school, takes his psychology en bloc.11

As an illustration of this dependence, I cite a.passage from Hil-
ton on the grace of contemplative prayer, a favorite tapic with
Richard:

This manner prayer, although it be not full contemplation

in itself, nor the working of love by itself, neverthe-

less it is a.part of contemplation. For why, it may not

be done on this manner wise but in plenty of grace through

opening of the ghostly eyes, and therefore a soul that

hath this freedom and this gracious feeling in prayer

with ghostly savor and heavenly delight hath the grace

of contemplation in manner as it is. 2
This should be compared with Chapter XXIII of the Benjamin Minor, where
Richard treats the preliminary stage of contemplation most charmingly
in the guise of a hind let loose, bounding over the earth but never
rising far above the shadow of the corporeal, which follows it,

Still closer is the dependence of the anonymous lhth century Cloud
of Unknowing, which takes not only its title but entire sections of its
text from Richard's larger work, the Benjamin Major,13 In particular,
Chapters 63 to 66 of the Cloud show a derivation from Richard, in this
instance from the Benjamin Minor, Here the author deals with a classi-
fication of the faculties of the soul in terms of primacy and subordinas
tion, but the allegory of Leah, Rachel and their handmaidens has been
discarded, and with it a valuable aid to understanding. Compare the

following excerpt from Chapter 63 with the author's source, the allegory

 

11
P, xviii.

lalbid.. pp. h37-h38.

1
3See the statement of Phyllis Hodgson, the editor, Cloud of Uh-
knowing, p . 1111 .

 

xix

developed in Chapters I to VI of the Benjamin Minor:

,,, reson & wille, psi ben two worching mi3tes I & so is
ymaginacipn & sensualite also, & alle peas four m13tes
&:peire werkes mynde contenep & compgehendep in it-self,

& on none ongDwise it is seide pat pe mynde worchep,

bot 31f soche a comprehencipn be a werke.

& herfore it is hat I clepe pemi3tes of a souls,
som‘pgincipal, & som secupdary... pe two paincipal
worching mi3tes, reson & wills, worchen purely in hem-
self ip_allg_goostly'pinges, wip-outen help of be opgg,
two secupdary mijtes. Ymaginacipn & sensualite worchin
beestly in alle bodely pinges, whepe£.pei be present or
absente in be body, & wip pe bodely wittes,1M
The reader will note that this passage is so close to the trepo-

logical content of the pertinent chapters of the Benjamin Minor as to

be an abstract of them. It is difficult not to conclude that the author
was working directly from a manuscript of Richard, rephrasing it in
non-allegorical terms. One can be confident that the Cloud's eXposition
of the principal and secondary powers of the soul would be far more
difficult to retain in memory than the sad Rachel, the fertile and
unloved Leah, and the bustling or boisterous servants,

As the most directly descended work of all, we have the late luth
century A Treatise Named Benjamip, widely available in manuscript, and
printed, as mentioned before, by Henry Pepwell in 1521, together with
six other popular devotional works, under the collective title The Cell
of Self Knowledge. The Gardner item cited previously is a 1910 reprint-
ing of this. There is also a very recent edition of a manuscript of

15
the work. The Treatise is an awkward synapsis about one fifth the

 

1”Page 115.

1
51m Deonise Hid Divinite, edited by Phyllis Hodgson, EETS (OS)
231! 1955.

 

length of the Benjamin Minor, It reproduces much of what might be termed
the scenario of the original, including the names of the persons involved.
The purpose is moral instruction, as is generally true of devotional
works for the laity. Gone are Richard's subtleties of deveIOpment, his
delight in marvellous ingenuity of allegory as applied to theological
system, and all the adornment of his rhetoric. No stylistic qualities
of the original have survived translation and compression. Yet the
adapter worked conscientiously to bring the original down to minimum
possible size: my own abstract, which I tried to make as brief as
possible, worked out to almost exactly the same length.

I reproduce in Appendix D the beginning of the Treatise for pur-
poses of comparison with the full translation. It is reproduced not
from the Garner and Pepwell editions but from a late lhth century manna
script in the Houghton Library at Harvard University. Here it appears
after StI Apggstinus Meditaciounsgand Confession in Enggysshe in Richard—
son MS 22. The audience for whom the Compilation was prepared is clearly
suggested by the coloPhon to the first work:

(51v) Thankyd be almyhti god my gods sustren. J have now

performyd 3owr desyre in englysshinge peso meditatiouns of

seint austyn. I have nat wryten alway as it standip ffor

in translatynge of oon langage to a.noper som wordis most

be chaungyd and some places moo wordes must be seyde ffor

englysch is soo buystus of itself pat ellis it wole be ful

unsavory to reds per folwe as me semyp is most lysabel, And

I have wryten in spekyng to god for reverens ye and youres,

and so I fynds in be frensche boke bet I wrote after vous

and vostre bat is to seye ye and youres. but some replyhen

per a3enst for it is seyde bet it is plurie and so schulde

pay not done. For ours lorde god pankyd mote he ever be

takep hede principaly to a mannys entente more pan to the

wordis.

Mention should certainly be made of the influence of such works

as the Benjamin Minor upon homiletic literature. The historian of the

u)

School of St. Victor, Fourier Bonnard,16 has pointed out that the train-
ing of the students involved daily practice in skills useful in papular
preaching. As for the dissemination of great theological works to the
man in the nave, G. R. Owst makes frequent mention of the dependence
upon the Victorine tradition in his Preaching in Mediaeval England.

He points out that Myrc's Festiall, a very pepular homily collection,

is the work of an Austin Canon and hence of the Victorine School.17

He also gives direct evidence of the importance of Hugh and Richard of
St. Victor in the words of a sermon of John Capgrave, delivered at
Cambridge:

We have in ours librairies (i.e. in the Victorine houses)

many sundry bokes that to (2) chanones of that hous mad,

on of hem hite Hew, the othir hite Ricpgrd; notabel

clerkis thei were and men of holy lyf,

Owst adds that such works as Richard's remained the favorite reading
of homilists of pre-Reformation England,

If, then, Richard's writings were in the hands of these populari-
sers, it is apparent than the ordinary man came under his influence,
however remotely. The homily, a.practica1 religious discourse for the
edification of the congregation, can be considered as representing the
tropological level of allegory reduced to its lowest terms. If the
Begjamin Minor was of use to the homilists, the man in the nave benefit-

ed from Richard's allegory to the extent that the allegory was a part

 

16
Histoire de l'abbaye royals et de 1'ordre des chanoines régu-

liers de Saint-Victor de Paris, I, 115, 127.

17
Page 22.

18
Ibid., p. 50.

xxii

of the teaching equipment of the papular preachers.

.As an order occupying a median position between the regular and
the secular clergy, the Austin Canons were in a good position to assist
in the dissemination of learned works. Their efforts in this direction
were part of a wide humanitarian service so diffuse as to cover almost
the whole of physical and.spiritual life. This service has been well

summarised by Evelyn Underhill in her introduction to The Scale of

 

Perfection:

lhen we remember that Hilton's contemporary Ruysbroek,
perhaps the greatest of all Christian contemplatives, lived
under the Augustinian Rule; that Hugh and Richard of St.
Victor, whose formative influence on mediaeval thought can
scarcely be over-rated, were Augustinian Canons: and that

we owe to followers of this Rule the foundation of St. Bartho-
lomew's Hospital, and the existence of the St. Bernard dog,
it will be seen that it could indeed support many varying
types of spirituality and service. In England, where fifty-
four Augustinian houses were established between the Conquest
and the death of Henry II, the Canons were chiefly devoted

to preaching and pastoral work, and had considerable repute!
tion for scholarship. At least from 1325 onwards, they sent
their students to the schools: and seem to have been among
the earliest composers of vernacular religious works. (Foot-
note: Thus the Austin Canon Richard Cricklade, who died in
1310, wrote homilies on the Gospels in English.)19

As to the Augustinian study of Scripture: Those who regard
- the Augustinian Canon Thomas 3,Kempis as the author of the

Imitation of Christ may remember that this book, with over

one thousand direct Biblical references, sets a standard

of knowledge before which many "Bible Christians" would

quail.

... on this theory (i.e. that Thomas a.Kempis wrote the Imi-
tgtion) we who to the Canons Regular of St. Augustine thg
two greatest‘mediaeval guidebooks to the spiritual life. 1

 

19Page xi.

Page xvi, note.

ZLPage xxx,

xxiii

The whole matter of the complete extent of influence of the work
of Richard and of the Victorines is a very difficult one. I have limited
myself to a brief tracing of one particular line of descent which culminates
in the English mystics of the late Middle Ages. All mediasval specular
tive theology has the same ultimate roots: the “dark sayings“ of the
Bible: the Neoplatonic and.Pseudo-Dionysian traditions that infiltrate
the later Biblical tradition over and over again; the works of Origen
and Augustine. All these are used in varying proportions by later writers
whose own works tend to cross-fertilize. There are inter-relationships
among the contemplative writers of the 12th century, and elements of
all of them descend to Bonaventure and later mystics. By the end of the
lhth century the task of disentangling influences is well-nigh hepeless.
Yet the striking qualities that mark Richard's allegorical and theolo-
gical works make his hand apparent in the work of later writers, as
I have tried to show. No later theologian attempted such a full—scale
systematic contemplative treatise on a.base of scriptural allegory,
for such a work required not only rare powers in the author but also

a more saphisticated audience than later devotional works enjoyed.

III, The Historical Background of the Use of Allegory
in the Benjamin Minor

In the previous section we appraised the effect of the Benjamin
,yipgg_upon Bonaventure, upon the subsequent school of English mystical
writers of the inth century, and digressed to touch upon the Imitation
pf Christ for the sake of its general importance to European mystical
thought. To continue the task of evaluating Richard's treatise we must

now turn to similar works that preceded it. This approach defies

xxiv

chronology but has the advantage of establishing from the first the
zalgg of the work under discussion. It now follows to examine its 2223f
ipglin terms of the history of scriptural allegory before its time, and
to determine to what extent this work is an exemplar of a tradition,

and to what extent a departure from it,

Such a study should logically start in the first century AtD, with
Philo. ,As an orthodox Jew trained in Greek philosophy; Philo was able
to play a role in keeping with the syncretistic intellectual preoccupa»
tions of his native Alexandria, and also of the most basic significance
for the whole course of Jewish, Christian and Mohammedan thought for
centuries to come. He it was who first placed classical philosoPhy
at the service of scriptural interpretation, originating the concept
of philosOphy as the handmaiden of religion: Philosophia Ancilla
Theologiae.22

The meaning of this important tenet of mediasval thought is a
complex one and has undergone some alterations at the hands of later
thinkers. But for Philo it means that Scripture, having been revealed
by God, is infallible, while philosoPhy, evolved by human reason or at
best the result of an inferior revelation, is always suspect, and must
remain under the correction of scriptural revelation. With this reser—
vation in mind, one is free to employ philosOphy in all matters.

A.valid use for this ”handmaiden" was the interpretation of Scrip—
ture, fer the simplest statement in the Pentateuch was capable of reveal-

ing hidden wisdom once one knew the method. The means was allegory:

 

22$ee Harry Austrin lolfson, Philo, I, 155. This work has been
largely drawn upon for my remarks on Philo.

figurative explanation that enlarges and elucidates the meaning of a
text. Philo stood at the meeting-place of Greek and Jewish thought,
and was the beneficiary of two rich allegorical traditions. Greek
philosophy had long made use of allegorical techniques (one has only
tothink of the facility with which Plato "mythologizes") while the
Hebrew school of oral or haggadic exegesis of the Pentateuch antedated
Philo fer several generations. It is entirely with the latter tradi-
tion that one modern critic would connect mediaeval scriptural allegory:

Ultimately, of course, allegory in hermeneutics must be

referred to Jewish haggadic exegesis, which had an estab-

lished history of allegorical interpretation for several

generations before Philo viewed persons and things in the

Old Testament as Térhrsu of the soul.23

Actually the Jewish usage is older than the haggadic tradition,
for the later books of the Old Testament make allegorical use of the
earlier ones: Hosea, for example, apparently allegorizes Jacob's struggle
with the angel, and makes him a type—figure of the spiritual seeker,2h
As Hosea was written about the 8th century B.C., the tradition of alle-
gorical exegesis would appear to be a.very old one. Certainly such a
type of interpretation is suggested by the very nature of some of the
material in the older books. That instance of ancient Hebrew poetry
embedded in Genesis, the so-called "Benedictions of Jacob" in Chapter
XLIX, is of special significance for the history of figurative discourse,

It invites, even demands, a non-literal interpretation. In it the dying

 

2
3H. Caplan, "The Four Senses of Scriptural Interpretation and the

Mediaeval Theory of Preaching,” Speculum 1+ (1929), 255,

ahDarwell Stone, “The Mystical Interpretation of the Old Testament,"

in A New Commentary on Holy Scripture, Gore et al., 689,

xxvi

Jacob makes prephecies to his sons in terms of each tribe's place in
the future of the Jewish nation. The statements are riddling and
obscure, and it was the common practice among exegetes of Genesis to

interpret these as moral allegory.25

Some late examples of this usage
are to be found in this chapter, and the Benjamin Minor makes much use
of the Benedictions throughout,

Rather than searching for more examples of allegory in the Old
Testament, let us note that at least one book of the collection was
admitted into the canon because it seemed to the Councils of Rabbis at
Jamnia in 90 and 118 AtD. to be capable of a mystical interpretation
beyond its ostensible erotic subject matter.26 I refer, of course, to
the Song of Songs, which Jewish scholars were prepared to accept because
of its hidden significance of the love of Jehovah toward Israel. Sim—
ilarly Christianity accepted the book as an allegory of the love of
Christ for the church.27 The nature of the Bible being what it is, a
religious library rather than a cultural one, neither faith could have
included in its canon what was considered to be of a.purely erotic work,

We must now enter upon that thorny and perverse subject, the nature
of allegory, as its mediaeval exponents thought it to be, It is useful
here to keep hold of the modern literary scholar's scepticism about
accepting anyone's own explanation of what he is doing, for it will be

apparent frequently that the divisions into levels of meaning are not

 

25Gore, pp, cit 62,

26Gore, 2p. Cl

__’C.
27Gore, pp, cit

e9 2.

hlé.

xxvii

being made in accordance with the writer's own explanation of his pro-
cedure. I refer the reader to Appendix C to note the variance between
Hugh of St. Victor's actual allegorical practice and his analysis of
his practice.

A recent stimulating survey of contemporary writing on hermeneu-
tics28 establishes that this confusion about what is going on still
exists; the author concludes that neither the classifications of the
levels of meaning in the writings of the Fathers, nor the modern attempts
to examine the full import of the multiple senses of Scripture, results
in an adequate analysis of the total meaning.

Caompared with later complications of the division of allegory into
three or more levels of meaning, Philo's division seems simple indeed.
He designates the literal meaning as ab‘ 5 .29 or describes it as the
plain sense,f*wfi.“; ,30 To speak figuratively is IwM‘} ' *j' :31
literally to speak by another means or in another way thus revealing the
dd“:'{~ , or hidden meaning, There is no elaborate breakdown into
types of figurative meaning, such as appear from Origen to Dante and
later. wolfson remarks with great cogency:

AltOgether too much importance is attached by students of

allegory to the kinds of things which allegorists read into

texts, and too much attention is given to minute classifies?

tions of various types of allegory and to distinctions,
mainly arbitrary, between what is real allegory and what

 

28
Walter J. Burghardt, "On Early Christian Exegesis," Theological
Studies, XI, 1 (March, 1950), pp, 78—116, “—-

29On the Contemplative Life, III, 28.

 

3OAbraham, XXXVI, 200.

l
3 On Josgph, VI, 28.

xxviii

is not real allegory. The allegorical method essentially

means the interpretation of a text in terms of something

else, irrespective of what that something else is. That

something else may be book learning, it may be practical

wisdom, or it may be one's inner consciousness. All these

are matters which depend upon external circumstances}2

It is true that distinctions into types of allegory do become very
fine-drawn among mediaeval exegetes, yet they not only allegorize with
freedom and ingenuity, but like to point out the reasons for what they
do, and the types of meaning they are able to find. With a true mediae-
val love for arranging things in lists and series, they categorize the
levels of meaning in a way that soon becomes familiar to all students
of the period. A famous mediaeval commonplace sets forth the multiple
meanings of Scripture as follows:

Jerusalem is understood historically of that earthly city

to which pilgrims go: allegorically of the church militant;

tropologically of every faithful soul: anagogically of the

heavenly Jerusalem that is our country.
One also encounters a mnemonic verse on this tepic, in one or the other

of these forms:

Littera scripta docet: quid credas allegoria:
Qudd spares anagoge: quid agas trepologia.

Litters gesta docet: quid credas allegoria:
Moralis quid ages: quo tendas anagogia.33

That is to say: the literal meaning teaches the actual written word
or deed, allegory teaches what you should believe; anagogy teaches what

you should hope for in the future life; tr0p010gy or the moral meaning

 

2
3 WOlfSOn, .92. flies Is 13,4'

33All three passages quoted in Darwell Stone, 22, 212,. 69h-

xxix

teaches what you should do.

These four meanings are the same that Dante sets forth in the
Convivio,3u in a.passage explaining in detail the ”polysemous" method
he uses in the Divine Comed , Yet there was no agreed number of alle—
gorical meanings among the users of this method. Many men have alle-
gorised Scripture over a period of twenty-seven centuries, from Hosea
to Kierkegaard. They may uncover two meanings for a passage, or four,
or seven. But the four meanings set forth in the examples of the above
commonplaces are quite generally in use, and the terms should be defined

as closely as possible.

The first meaning is the literal or historical. For example, here
is a.passage from the first chapter of the Benjamin Minor:

Jacob is known to have had two wives. One was called Leah,

the other Rachel: Leah was the more prolific, but Rachel

the more beautiful.
Here is a statement of fact, given as such and received as such. From
Philo to Reginald Pecock, the consensus of mediaeval thought is that
the literal sense is the foundation of a valid reading of Scripture.
Through adherence to the actual fact or statement involved in the literal
meaning, a basis was thought to be established for evolving the figurap
tive ones. It is stated repeatedly that primacy belongs to this funds,
mental sense. I shall return to the matter of primacy later, only not—

ing here that many allegorists of Scripture provide themselves with an

escape clause in case the literal meaning of a.passage involves something

 

h
3 Convivio, II, 1. See Edd Winfield Parks, The Great Critics, pp,

lh5-- for all the relevant passages on Dante's literary theory, together
with a useful introduction.

XXX

physically impossible or morally repugnant. Origen, for example, states

If God is said to walk in the garden in the evening and Adam

to hide himself under a tree, I do not suppose that anyone

doubts that these things are said figuratively by means of

a history which is external and not literally told, and

that they are significant of certain mysteries.35

The next meaning is the allegorical. This term may be used in two
senses in scriptural exegesis. Inclusively, it designates any figu-
rative meaning whatsoever: in the Jerusalem example the three last
meanings are all allegorical. But frequently the term is restricted in
usage to one only of the figurative senses, as is actually the case in
the Jerusalem passage. Allegorical as there used applies to an Old
Testament type or exemplar with a signification bearing upon the New
Testament, and more specifically upon Christ or the church. Thus,
Jerusalem is the church militant: the beloved in the Song of Songs is
the church also: Joseph is Christ: Benjamin is Paul, etc. Such an
allegorical meaning as this should strictly be called typologicalI or
when applying to Christ, Christological,

The mgggl or trop010gical sense bears upon conduct. If the slay-
ing of the seducers of Dinah is interpreted as the suppression of the
vices of pride and vainglory, this is a trapological or moral reading
of the text, that turns a man to the way he should go. Examples of
such typological senses in late mediaeval devotional literature outweigh
those of other types of allegory, as there grew up a tradition of pious

handbooks for the laity, who needed direct moral counselling rather than

subtleties of multiple interpretation. Trapology is another term that

 

35De Principio, IV, iii, 1.

xxxi

may cause confusion. It comes from the same Greek root as yields the
term trepe, and is sometimes, in English, used to mean the study or use
of tropes, or figurative language. I find no instance of this meaning
in mediaeval discussion of allegory. The Latin usage is always synony-
mous with mggal.
The ggggggiggl meaning bears upon the future life: for example
in the present work Benjamin's ecstasy foreshadows the final union of
the soul with God, and is described in terms of a mystical marriage.
This sense is sometimes also known as mystical. As the Benjamin Minor
has to do with the preparation of the soul for contemplation, it is
chiefly concerned with the tropological implications of the story, and
passes over into anagogy when the soul achieves the contemplative state
in the closing chapters. At this point the moral counselling has ceased,
and the discussion is carried on in terms of the closeness of the ec—
static state to the condition of the future life.
To summarise, here are the types of interpretation most frequently
encountered in mediaeval scriptural allegory:
1. Literal (or historical)
2. Allegorical (or figurative, spiritual, mystical)
a. allegorical (or typological, Christological)
b. moral (or trepical)
c. anagogical (sometimes mystical)
It should be noted that there is no reason to expect a particular
number of interpretations in any one work. There may be only historical
and ”allegorical” (meaning anything other than literal, if used inclup

sively), or there may be a conscientious working out of these three

xxxii

levels of allegory«—or two, or four, or five of them. My own Opinion
is that a passage of Scripture was in practice mined like a lode of
metal: the commentators drove their shafts where they were likely to
find ore. The very term "levels of meaning” is misleading, as implying
superiority of merit in one particular one: is a typological inter-
pretation higher or lower than an anagogical one? the modern student
wonders. At times one wonders, also, if there is always a literal
meaning, and this is the largest and most baffling question that can be
raised about allegory,

To trace the history of the allegorical interpretation of Scrip-
ture would be a lifetime task. The complete account of exegesis as a
whole still remains to be written. Yet it is pertinent to ask, even
in this brief treatment of an incompletely investigated field, why the
papularity of allegory was so great for so many years of church history.
A fundamental reason for its use in Christian apologetic is that the
acceptance of Christianity by the Jews depended to a great extent on
demonstration that it was the patent fulfillment of Judaism, while its
acceptance by the Gentiles needed proof that it was the completion of
a long revelation of the truth. Parallels had constantly to be drawn
between the old accepted religious history and aspects and events of
the new dispensation, to indicate that the old foreshadowed the new,
that the new was an obvious fulfilling of the old. The Epistle to the
Hebrews, in its entirety, is an example of this linkage of the New Testap
ment to the Old by means of typological allegory. Christ is shown to
be the fulfillment of promises made under the old dispensation, a figure

of whom the patriarchs and kings were but types or symbols. Allegory

xxxiii

was the cement that attached the new law so firmly to the old that sub-
sequent Christian centuries could assume without question that Christian-
ity both fulfilled and superceded Judaism.

Given the multiple meanings set forth above, what use was made of
them during the Middle Ages? In approaching Richard of St. Victor's
employment of scriptural allegory, it will be illuminating to survey
the treatment of the story he was to handle, in the writings of previous
allegorical exegetes. Of especial interest, in view of Richard's sus-
taining his allegory for all of eighty-seven chapters, is the brevity
and circumscription of the allegorical treatment of the same material
in the other authors to be examined. The account of Jacob and of his
two wives and twelve sons, culminating in Joseph's career in Egypt and
Jacob's benedictions on his deathbed, form a coherent narrative of
considerable length in the Book of Genesis. Yet no allegorist except
Richard ever treats the story connectedly. Pieces of it that suit the
writer's purpose are usually extracted from the whole, no interest being
evinced in develoPing a large-scale interpretation. This seems, inci-
dentally, curious, for the narrative is lively and memorable, and it
concludes with a.passage so mysterious as to demand figurative inter—
pretation.

Philo

For reasons of his importance to the develoPment of mediaeval
allegory, Phdlo should have first place in this survey, as I have
already mentioned. This despite the fact that he is not, of course,
Christian, and that our field is Christian exegesis. He was anxious

to give the fullest possible weight of significance to the Old Testament

xxxiv

narrative which is our concern, so he sought out the meanings concealed
within the literal tale of Jacob and Joseph. His handling is a rather
unexpected one by reason of its discontinuity. The demands of the story
would seem to be that an allegory should take into account the filiation
of Joseph and Jacob: if one is to be a quality or moral attribute, the
other must bear an obvious family connection. Such is not the case with
Philo, nor indeed with most other allegorists. Most agree, however,

on their allegorization of Jacob. For obvious reasons, he usually
appears as the type of the contemplative, as befits the literal meaning
of the narrative: he had dreamed of a ladder to heaven, he had wrestled
with an angel, Consequently he was ready to hand as a type figure for
the visionary or pious or reasonable man. But Joseph is not treated
with this unanimity. For example, Philo deals with Jacob and Joseph

allegorically in two different works. In one36

he retells the perti-
nent chapters in Genesis, and then surprisingly states: "...broadly
speaking, all or most of the story is an allegory. Joseph is govern-
ment.“ The rest of the work consists in a study of the relationships
of Joseph and his family, or Joseph and the Egyptians, demonstrating
the acquisition and maintenance of political power. The treatment of
the theme is even more curious in the other book by Philo. On Dreams
depicts Joseph as the mind that is a.prey to vainglory and vanity.
Jacob, the rational power, resists the arrOgant implications of his
son's dream about the sheaves bowing down to his sheaf, and protests:
Shall I right reason come: shall fruitful instruction the
mother and nurse of the soulncompany that yearns for know—

ledge come too, shall the children of us two press forward...
and shall we all address our prayers to vanity237

 

36911-122923. VI. 28. 3702. cit. II, 85,

The brothers, reasonable and virtuous like their father, also refuse
to bow down. When Philo then proceeds to discuss the meaning of the
dreams of the baker, the butler and.Pharoah, he makes a fresh start,
dropping the old.Joseph-vainglory allegorization; no effort is made to

maintain a continuity.

Origen

It would be profitable for the course of my discussion if the
writers I am considering all treated the same passages, but of course
they do not. Origen, in his Homilies on Genesis, omits much of the
Jacob-Joseph story from his consideration, but deals in an interesting
manner with certain portions of it. He discusses the descent of the
brothers into Egypt in terms which would also apply to the closing chap-
ters of the Benjamin Minor:

We must note in reading Scripture how in many places the

terms ascent and descent are used. If we study this carefully
we find that almost never is anyone said to go down into a
holy place, nor is anyone found to have gpne up to a shame-
ful one. These observations show us that Holy Scripture is
not ignorant and rustic as it seems to many, but most fitted
for the teaching of divine learning, serving the purpose of
mystical things and meanings rather than that of historical
narrative... [When the brothers of Joseph] have seen Joseph
and Benjamin most, they ascend out of the land of Egypt.38

[Jacob says:] ”It is a great thing to me if my son Joseph
lives,” as knowing and seeing that life that is in Joseph

to be a great one. Spiritually he is now called not Jacob
but Israel, because he mentally sees the true light which is
the true God Christ... To spurn desire, to flee luxury, to
suppress all bodily pleasure, this is to rule over all the
land of Egypt.

 

3SHomily, xv, shoe.

391b1d., 2h2A.

xxxvi

Jacob is still the contemplative soul, but Joseph has become Christ,
we note. The relationship between Christ and the contemplative is not
exPlained in terms of fatherhood and sonship, nor would such a correla-
tion be easy to maintain throughout the narrative.

Origen treats in the same series of homilies the interpretation of
the "Benedictions of Jacob" at the end of the book of Genesis. These
mysterious lines lend themselves very well to the allegorical method,
as being already highly figurative and obscure. The Greek commentator
discusses the words applied to the first son, Reuben:

As elsewhere, we subject the passage to a process of three-

fold interpretation, so that the benedictions serve an

historical purpose, and their prOphecy a mystical and

dogmatic one, for the corruption of morals aflg the objurgae

tion of corruption tend to moral correction.

Reuben is an historical character first. Then the author allegorizes
him typologically as the Jewish people, first strong, later denounced

by Scripture for its hardness of heart. Just as he pollutes his father's
bed, the Jewish.pe0ple polluted the Old Testament by their deceitful
ways. The moral or tropological meaning is the reproach laid upon the
man who lives carnally, outraging the natural law. Neither in Origen

nor in any other writer previous to Richard is there a systematic alle-
gorization of the brothers of Joseph as the virtues, or ordered passions,
although the fact that they appear together in the literal narrative,

and again in the figurative language of the Benedictions, would, one

would imagine, have suggested to the allegorists that they should be

considered as a related set of personages or qualities. It is curious

 

ho
Homily XVII, 253.

xxxvii

that such an occasion to construct a system should have escaped the
commentators.
Ambrose

St. Ambrose, the slightly older contemporary of Augustine, devotes
three works to the allegorization of the story under discussion. In
his book on fleeing the world, De Fuga Saeculi, he considers the acqui—
sition of the contemplative state in the guise of’Jacob in flight from
his native country. The situation, rather than the narrative, gives
rise to his very limited allegory. Once Jacob is accepted as the spirit-
ual seeker in quest of perfection, the Old Testament account plays a
very limited part in the development of the author's theme, An example
will illustrate the fairly pedestrian employment of the allegorical
method:

Thus instructed in these disciplines of patience and perseve-

rance, Jacob bided his time and married wisdom, rich in the

dowry of prudence, at that time of life that he was able to

acquire her without giving offense. So when the treasure of

wisdom was added, he set up a flock of vari-colored sheep,

rational, gleaming with a diversity of many virtues. Thence

he withdrew from pride of the flesh, signified by the crip-

pling of his thigh. His mind ascended into heaven by these

virtflfs as though by a stairway, and he knew the secrets of

God. '
It is apparent that the allegory is developed more or less hit-or-miss:
prudence, the employment of the virtues, appears in three different
guises in this brief passage as the dowry of Rachel, the flock of
sheep, and the ladder of Jacob's dream. Surely to use figurative lang-
uage so ineptly is to use it to no purpose.

De Jacob et Vita Beata treat Joseph as the type of chastity acquired

 

hi
92. cit.. 609, 22.

xxxviii

by self discipline, Jacob as the type of temperance in acquiring by
trickery and patience the birthright of his brother. The two characters
are so set forth in a single passage, with no filiation established
between them. Then immediately afterward Jacob is reason, when he
Opposes the fury of his sons};2 The slight allegory this treatise con-
tains is developed as carelessly as this passage suggests, and is soon
dropped. For example, though Jacob is "full of the fruit of righteous-
ness,“ his sons are not explained as being these fruits. It is inter-
esting to note that Rachel and.Leah represent the church and the synap
gogue in this passage, for possibly the first time.“3

Ignoring the possibility of multiple meanings of the allegory,
Ambrose gives an almost exclusively Christological interpretation of
the ”Benedictions.” The prophecy about Reuben is again, as in Origen,
given the sense of a curse laid upon the Jewish people for its betrayal

and rejection of Christ.

Augustine

A.profounder thinker than Ambrose, Augustine was also much more
skilled in the use of allegory. In an intensely interesting work, his
antra Faustum, a defense of the Old Testament against the Manichees,
he employs the tools of figurative interpretation with considerable
skill to prove that Scriptural characters whose behavior is incompre-
hensible or morally repugnant are to be understood allegorically,

Chapters LII-—LIX of the twenty-second book are of particular interest

 

”292, c t., 631.
1899, c t., 651},

1m, 22. Cit“ 709.

xxxix

for this investigation, as being the undoubted source of Richard's own
treatment of the Genesis background of the Benjamin Minor. Dom Cuthbert
Butler, a student of the speculative theology of Augustine, says of

this portion of the Contra;Faustum:

The chapters are of great interest for the matter inland,

and are (so far as is known to me) the source of one phase

of teaching on contemplative life that runs through the

mediaeval mystical writers of the West. The whole is an

elaborate allegorical interpretation, worked out in

minutest detail, of the story of Jacob's wives (Genesis XXIX-

XXX)... Augustine here sets the interpretation that became

traditional in the West, whereby Lag represents the active

life and Rachel the contemplative.

Yet surely Ambrose, in the passage cited from De Fuga Saeculi, had im—
plied that marriage with Leah is the practice of moral discipline that
precedes marriage with Rachel, Spiritual wisdom:

Augustine's treatment of the story cpens as follows:

Although we believe that the two free—born wives of Jacob

have to do with the New Testament, by which we are called

into liberty, still there is a reason for their being two

in number: they foreshadow the two lives in the body6of

Christ, as can be noted and discovered in Scripture.

He then discusses their descent from Laban, or purification, as
signifying the remission of sins. Next he considers the winning of
Rachel long after Leah, the gathering of the mandrakes (not mentioning
Reuben, the finder of them), the handmaidens (one being imagination,
the other not specifically labelled); and he ends with the begetting
of Joseph (not named). The whole passage is a discussion of the relative

merits of the active and contemplative lives, and the mandrake episode

is the only one worked out with thorough attention to the literal narrap

 

h
5Western Mysticism, pp. 159-160.

h
6Contra Faustum LII, M32.

 

xl

tive. He deals very briefly with the selling of Joseph and the Bene-
dictions, but the whole story is never given. He does not even draw
the obvious parallel between the sons of Leah and the virtuous behavior
that the pious active life consists in. If this book is the immediate
ancestor of the Benjamin Minor, as it appears to be, Richard‘s subse-
quent ingenuity in handling all the implications of the allegory are

indeed impressive as a piece of independent work.

Isidore

The great encyclopaedist of the early Middle Ages, Isidore of
Seville, takes up the theme of Rachel and Leah as types of the active
and contemplative lives, not develOping the allegory any further, but
discussing the actual states they represent. The conclusions he reaches
(or abstracts from other thinkers) about the desirability of a mixed
life are thoroughly congruent with the type of activity later fostered
by the Victorines and the Augustinian Canons. As all of the passage
is interesting on these two grounds, I give it in its entirety in
Appendix B.

Hrabanus Maurus

Hrabanus Maurus treats the Jacob-Joseph material at considerable
length in his commentary on the book of Genesis. Here, as in previous
authors, we note that the allegorical method is as inconsistently car-
ried out as it is assiduously pursued. His predilection is Christo-
logical interpretation, to such an extent that all possible events and
characters are made types of Christ or symbols of events in his life.

’47

The sleep of Jacob is the Passion: the two wives are the two lives to

 

7Commentariorum in Genesim Libri Quattuor I, 591 D.

xli

MS
which Christ calls us, the active and the contemplative: the marriage
h
of Jacob and Rachel is the mystical union of Christ and his church; 9
yet Joseph in turn is Christ,50 his long robe a man's lifetime total

51

of good deeds, his dream of being worshipped by his brothers is

Christ's rule over the entire world. The descent into Egypt is the

52 Joseph's meeting with Benjamin represents Christ's ap—

Incarnation.
proval of the conversion of’Paul,53 As for the prOphecies about the
various tribes of Israel in the Benedictions, each saying is once again
given a Christological interpretation if at all possible.

Even the most sympathetic modern student of allegory is likely to
feel that such arbitrary handling of it entirely defeats its purpose.
No parallel is possible between the development of the literal narrative
and the unfolding of a figurative system. Here are not two well-woven
textures juxtaposed, but a fabric that is almost a.word-for-word copy
of the Genesis account, while pinned to it, as if at random, are scraps
and tags of mystical meaning. The unit of thought in the interpreter
tion is not the story, but the sentence. Hrabanum Maurus is a.parti—
cularly good example of this failing to grasp the idea of narrative,

which it seems clear is fairly common to the scriptural exegetes being

discussed.

 

uslbid.. 598 0.

1+9
Ibid., 607 A.

501bid., 622 c.

51Ibid., 623 c.

52Ibid., 620.
53

Ibid., 6hl.

xlii

Walafrid Strabo
Nor is the case much better with his pUpil, Walafrid Strabo, the

author of the universally consulted Glossa.Ordinarig, He comments

 

sporadically upon the Jacob story in words that are sometimes his own
and sometimes directly quoted from earlier exegetes. For him, the sleep
of Jacob is a.typolOgical allegory of the crucifixion of Christ rather
than the‘Passion.5h Morally interpreted,

the dream of the ladder is intended to tell preachers that
they should not only seek the head of the church, that is
Christ, in contemplation, but they should descend to its
members in compassion, as is shown by the angels ascending
and descending... Morally, to sleep upon the way is to

rest on the path of this mortal life because of the impediment
of worldly activities. Jacob saw the angels in his sleep be-
cause those men see divine things who close their eyes to the
lust for the temporal.55

Again it is apparent that allegory is being used unthoughtfully.
The sleep of exhaustion due to worldly activity can hardly be the same
as the spiritual equanimity that results from giving up lust after
temporal things. As in the work of Origen and Hrabanus Maurus, Joseph
is Christ, an identification that provides no continuity between the
Jacob and Joseph stories in the figurative meaning. Of the Benedic-
tions, Strabo remarks, with a terse dismissal of allegorical excess
rare in a mediaeval commentator:

In the Benedictions of Jacob the history has to be retained

and the allegory has to be uncovered. The history concerns

the dividing up of the promised land, the allegory concerns

Christ and the church, and will be revealed at the day of

Judgment. Hence the fggndations of the historical meaning
have to be laid first.

 

h
5 Commentagipm in Genesim XVIII, ll.

551hid., 12.

6
5 Ibid., XLIX,

xliii

He gives at length the Rachel-Leah interpretation that Ambrose had

previously sketched:

Rachel and Leah are interpreted as the likeness of the

church and the Synagogue. Leah, the older, signifies the

synagogue, because she first brought forth a.peOple for

God... Rachel is younger and more beautiful, first

barren and then fecund: she signifies the church, which

is later in time but holy in body and soul. Her eyes

are beautiful because they deserve to see the Gospel.

But she was barren for a long time while the synagogue

brought forth a race of men. Jacob served for Rachel,

but Leah is less esteemed by him: he wedded the sgnap

gogue that he might raise up a church for himself. 7

We have surveyed the type of treatment that seven previous scrip—
tural exegetes had given to various elements of one particular narrative
in Genesis. It is evident that in actual practice interpretation was
a fairly arbitrary procedure, departing from or neglecting the story
itself in favor of fragmentary figurative deveIOpment of particular
points in it. In no instance has a connected or systematic allegory
been developed. The example from Augustine's Contra Faustum, while pro-
tracted, does not actually cover a very large proportion of the actual
story in question. In actual practice, little pattern for the use of
allegory seems to emerge from a study of these writers' use of it.
Perhaps a consideration of the views they held about the weight and
validity of the various meanings will illuminate their treatment of the
text.

Primacy of Meaning

Supposing a.multiplicity of meanings in Scripture, the conscientious

exegete had still to face the question of which meaning was to have

 

57
Glossa Ordinaria, Genesis XXIX, l6—-l9,

xliv

primacy. Is Jacob a.Jewish patriarch who cheated his father-in-law and
his brother and had two wives and two concubines, or is he a figure
typifying Christ, and the embodiment of the contemplative seeker after
God? One of the meanings of a.passage has to be basic. Though mediae-
val thought has sometimes been considered derived and authoritarian
above all else, it is a matter of pressing importance to these scholars
to settle this question in their own terms over and over again. A good
example of a basic treatment of the relative validity of the different
levels of meaning is found in Augustine's antra_Eaustum. In defending
against the Manichees various tenets of orthodox Christianity, he upheld
the claim to reading more meaning in Scripture than the letter alone
warranted. He examined the arguments for and against allegorical inter-
pretation with his customary subtlety. In Appendix A, I quote a passage
from this work, with notes on the types of allegory he discusses and
employs. He passes constantly from one type or level of allegory to
another, it will be observed,

To summarise Augustine's position as stated in the long excerpt,
it is that all Old Testament passages, however obscure, are to be read
as having a.prOphetic signification of the future Messiah, except for
those sections that serve a purely connective function. These are like
the cords that bind or support the music-making strings of the cithara.
It is the whole cithara that sounds, though these particular strings
do not. Likewise all Scripture, even these connective parts, resounds
by virtue of its significant passages. Even the prophecies of Christ
have another function as well, in serving for moral edification. And

however the heretics may object, even those passages that portray wicked

xlv

behavior serve for our edification. All the functions of Scripture are
beneficial to us. Although certain parts of it may seem absurd, they
encourage us to look for a hidden meaning.

A large volume could be made up of such excerpts from the Greek
and Latin fathers. What emerges from the animated discussion of the
topic (which seemed always to call forth vigorous writing from those
who handled it) is the following position, in the majority of Cases:
primacy has to be given to the literal meaning. Only from this can evi-
dence be drawn for dogmatic pronouncements. The figurative senses are
gpppggting_ones: while their usefulness is very great, they must be
applied with caution, and only by the skilled. Appendix C is devoted
to a spirited defense of this position by Richard's master, Hugh of St.
Victor.

He hypothecates a three-fold interpretation: literal, allegorical,
(i.e., Christological) and anagOgical. (But in exemplifying these
meanings, he actually replaces the last one with the tropological or
moral sense). Not all Scripture can be forced into this triple explanap
tion, however: at this point he reproduces Augustine's cithara figure,
to prove that some things in Scripture are put in solely for "weighti—
ness." The literal meaning is basic to any sound allegorical sense,
despite what foolish teachers may say. No interpretations should be
attempted by anyone ignorant of the literal meaning. This is not to
say that metaphors such as "river of fire" are to be understood strictly
as written, for we have to realise what is the intention of such state-
ments, and to see that this intended meaning is the fundamental one.

No one should believe that the literal meaning is only a sort of painted

inaée “r us t
threspect f“
be humble eno’i
urselves zeal
the S‘Piriwal
A minorit
senses are °f
claim (like t3
were pm in t2
meaning is so:
truth. origer
repugnant to '
Augustin
literal or th
either inter;
If in th
propheti
ally mind
be under
signific
886.639

0n the other

tiv
e interpre

xlvi

image for us to allegorize a meaning out of, Such a belief would involve
disrespect for the way the Holy Spirit presented truth to us. We must

be humble enough to approach the letter with reSpect, and to apply
ourselves zealously to understanding it, so that we may deserve to grasp
the spiritual meaning.

A.minority group believes, like Richard, that the allegorical
senses are of such great importance as to be the basic ones. These men
claim (like the 19th century antievolutionist who said that fossils
were put in the rocks by God to try our faith) that an absurd literal
meaning is sometimes put in Scripture to challenge us to seek a deeper
truth. Origen had stated that the literal sense was to be rejected if
repugnant to the reason, and this was Philo‘s position as well,58

Augustine was claimed as supporting the primacy of either the
literal or the allegorical sense. The passage in Appendix A can furnish
either interpretation. Moreover he says on the one hand:

If in the words of God, or of any person assumed to the

prophetic office, anything is said which cannot be liter—

ally understood without absurdity, certainly it ought to

be understood to have been said in a figure for some

signification, yet it is not right to doubt that it was

said.59
On the other hand he warns against the excesses of the method of figura-
tive interpretation, saying that it is impudence for anyone

to interpret anything set in allegory on his own side

unless he had also clear evidence by the light of which
what is obscure might be made plain. 0

 

53Wolfeon, Philo, I, 138;
De Principiis, 1v, 1, 16.

59De Genesis ad Litteram, x1, 2.

6QEpistles, XCIII, 2h.

 

xlvii

One might well feel that Augustine's position was ambiguous, yet
Reginald.Pecock, in the late Middle Ages, advances a most modern plea
for having his statements judged literally in the light of their context,
and appeals to Augustine in defense of sober literal meaning:

And forto knows what myn undirstonding and meenyng is, and
schal be, in wordis of my writingis, englische and latyn,
certis, oon ful goode weie is forto attends to pe.circum—
stauncis in be processis whiche y make pere bifore and
aftir, and whiche y make in opire placis of my writingis,
ffor bi pie weye seynt Austyn leerned what was re ri3t
meenyng in pa wordis of holi,scripture, as he seip in

his ”book of 83 questiouns."bl

The modern student of allegory may suspect that the literal mean-
ing included more, for the mediaeval scholar, that it would subsume
today. Included under the literal sense, for the mediaeval user, there
is also that which has been called the etiological: the interpretation
that has been elicited from an event which took place with that inter-
pretation in mind. Thomas Aquinas in an entire Article devoted to
formulating definitively the relative validity of the different mean-
ings, discusses this sub-literal sense as well:

As God is the author of Holy Scripture... it is in his
power not only to adapt words to eXpress meaning, as any
man can also do, but also to adapt things themselves...
The multiplicity of these senses does not produce
equivocation, or any other kind of multiplicity, seeing
that these senses are not multiplied because one thing
signifies several things, but because the things sig-
nified by the words can be themselves signs of other
things. Thus in Holy Scripture no confusion results,
for all the senses are founded on one-the literal--
from which alone can any argument be drawn, and not
from those intended allegorically, as Augustine says.
Nevertheless, nothing of Holy Scripture parishes be-
cause of this, since nothing necessary to faith is

 

61Donet, p. h,

xlviii

contained under the spiritual sense which is not elsewhere
put forward clearly by Scripture in its literal sense,°2

Then though a statement may represent literal truth, the fact
reported was already present in history waiting to be interpreted alle-
gorically. That is, allegory is embedded in the fact itself, in its
teleological nature, and not in the chances of interpretation. This
means that the vestigia, or traces of God's handiwork, are imprinted
not only on the world of nature but also upon history. Man is able to
plumb God's intention in history, then, by the use of the allegorical
method. The implication is that there is so much connection between
the levels of meaning that a man with a firm grasp of literal under-
standing of Scripture, in constructing an allegorical interpretation,
does not so much invent as discover it. The traditional allegorists
are not to be compared with composers writing variations on a theme,
but rather to conscientious interpreters, unevenly endowed, of a rather .
ambiguously set down musical Opus.

While the theory of exegesis can be abstracted from various mediae-
val writings on allegory, it is obvious from the examples given previous-
ly that the application of the theory was sporadic and inconsistent.

No mediaeval writer rejects the allegorical method, but none with the
exception of Thomas Aquinas makes a very coherent statement about it:
and Thomas is not an allegorist. The criterion of rejecting literal
meaning is moral repugnance, or irrational absurdity: a strictly sub—
jective way of judging, since the polygamy of Jacob may be repugnant to

one, but an event with moral implications to another. I believe that

 

62Summa Theologica I, 1, lo.

xlix

the allegorical method is used sketchily and without consistent applies?
tion because it was being employed on the level of metaphor and not on
that of artistic creation. As an example, if both Jacob and Joseph can
represent the contemplative soul, no extended allegorical discussion

is possible within the framework of the Genesis story, for the facts

of the narrative provide for dramatic tensions and conflicts that only

a sustained parallel structure of figurative content can support.

IV. The Benjamin Minor as Allegory

Having established the historical background of the use of alle-
gory in the Middle Ages, let us examine in detail the Benjamin Minor
itself, to evaluate its use of systematic figurative interpretation of
Scripture, and compare the employment of the particular narrative mate-
rial with the ends to which other exegetes put it.

For the purposes of this examination I have disengaged the story
taken from Genesis and the GOSpels from the allegorical interpretation,
and present them here in parallel form. My analysis is intended to be
exhaustive. Next follows a summary of Richard's running commentary on
the principle and application of the allegorical method. My own dis.
cussion of his usage, with consideration of his similarity to other

mediaeval allegorists and departure from them, closes this section.

     
  
  
 
 
  
 

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Benjamin is the hand-
somest son of'Rachel,
fairest of the sons of
Jacob.

Leah is prolific but
tenderbeyed.

Rachel is beautiful
but nearly barren.

Jacob served seven
years for Rachel.

Marriage with.Leah
is hated, for she
is troublesome.

Rachel is desired,
Leah scorned,

The two wives are
Cola and Ooliba
(Ezekiel XXIII, 1+,
Douay-Rheims version),
Jerusalem and Samaria.

The children of Rachel
and Leah.

Abstract of the Benjamin Minor.

I. Contemplation is the greatest achievement of the
reason, and the noblest power of the mind. The
moral activity of the intellect produces many vir-
tues, but is deficient in wisdom. The reasoning
activity is utterly desirable, but is late in play—
ing a.part in man's spiritual develOpment. These
are the two powers of the intellect, one devoted
to the search for wisdom and truth, the other to
self-discipline and the desire for justice. Men
desire to cultivate the former capacity rather than
the latter, for wisdom is preferable to any other
good, and is difficult to attain.

II. Do men seek justice with the same ardor?
Apparently not, though it is actually obtainable.
Why should they find it so undesirable? The exer-
cise of justice is troublesome. It involves giv-
ing up worldly reward, and men are reluctant to
do so. They long for the pursuit of spiritual
wisdom, but despise moral training.

III. Every soul has two Godpgiven qualities,
reason. directed toward truth, and affection,
toward virtue. From the reason come right counsels,
from the affection, holy desires. From the reason,
Spiritual perceptions, from the affections, ordered

emotions. All truth is of the former, all virtue

-1

i

- ,.
, -
es .

I"

’4

\a

 

ll.
1‘.

Leah is married.

Rachel is married.

Leah is troublesome,
Rachel pleasant.

Rachel g_§hggp of
the Lord.

Even her handmaiden is
desired by men.

Marriage with Leah is
first. Scripture is

the bed of Rachel, in
which we seek Rachel,

but find Leah instead.

Marriage with Rachel
comes later.

Two handmaidens wait
upon the two wives.

Rachel cannot go out and

11
of the latter. Affection has to be applied to the
practice of justice: reason needs to receive illumi-
nation from the highest wisdom. The pursuit of
truth is very pleasant, but it is difficult to
conform to the rule of justice. Wisdom must be
sought with humility. It is no wonder it is loved
if even worldly wisdom, a lesser quality, is so
must sought after by worldly philosophers.

IV. As faith comes through experience, we often
need to have moral discipline before we are ready
to devote ourselves to spiritual practices. Scrip-
ture contains truth concealed in allegory, but we
do not uncover it until we have had contrition

for our sins. When this compunction interrupts
our studies, we sorrow for our sin and direct the
attention Godward, Later we may attain wisdom,
through divine illumination.

V. Affection is served by sensuality, reason by
imagination. Iithout these properties the mind's
faculties would have no knowledge of the external
world; reason would not know, nor affection per-
ceive. Sensuality offers carnal pleasures to
affection, while the imagination, giving sense
impressions to the reason, enables it to attain
knowledge of the invisible by means of the visible,

through analogy. Material sense is external and

 

 

 

 

 

an

 

 

t4

talk to servants; her
handmaiden is the
intermediary.

The handmaidens are
always at work.

Short-sighted Leah
follows her
handmaiden.

Bale, Rachel's hand-
maiden, is a gossip.
uncontrolled by her
mistress.

Zelpha, Leah's hand-
maiden, is a drunkard,

Leah's seven

sons are true

sons of Jacob when
well controlled.

Reuben, son of
vision

Simeon. means

111

reason cannot go out and grasp it; hence the imagi—
nation acts as mediator between them. Its service
is constant, even if sense impression be lacking:
in the dark, imagination still Operates. Likewise
sensuality is always at work tempting the moral
judgment or affection into overconcern with carnal
pleasures.

VI. The imagination ever clamors, and cannot be
controlled by reason, as we know by the daily
eXperience of our own wandering thoughts. Sensual-
ity never has enough of any carnal delight,

VII. The ordered emotions are seven in number,
corresponding to the seven virtues, for virtue is
controlled emotion. They are hope and fear, joy
and sorrow, hate, love and shame. These are bad
qualities when uncontrolled, but good when dis-
ciplined.

VIII. First is the fear of the Lord, a preliminary
to all virtue and wisdom. Attention to our sins
engenders this fear. Clearsightedness about our
failings makes us fear the Lord, and once we do so,
intercourse between God and man becomes possible.
IX, The next son is sorrow, which follows fear,
for the more one fears punishment, the more he
laments his sin. When he heeds his failings, in-

dulgence will doubtless come to the truly contrite.

liii

Levi, addition X, Consolation comes through the addition of the
hope of forgiveness. Penitence must be genuine
to merit this addition, lest there be spiritual
pride through over-confidence of forgiveness.
younger than Reuben
and Simeon Hape is added only after fear and sorrow; it never
comes without them.
XI. Only now can there be friendship between God

and man: joyful love incites us, through the hepe

of forgiveness, and God now rouses us to seek his

Judah, praise, love rather than to fear him. Love comes after hope,

younger than

Levi. as sorrow came after fear. A.man praises that which
he loves.

XII. The soul that greatly loves always praises
God: not only in secret, but publicly as well,
to inflame others with the same love. Such a man
acts in God's service to manifest his love, for
God has abundantly pardoned him. Hence let us ever
praise and acknowledge, for true love does so.
Love of God is not distinct from love of God's
justice. The lover of God must be concerned with
the justice the moral sense has engendered. Now
these four moral qualities that have been discussed
are fear of punishment, sorrow of repentance, hOpe
Leah ceases to bear. of pardon, love of justice. A man is likely to‘
think, after achieving these virtues, that he has

truly loved the true good.

 

...

Rachel sorrows for
her own barrenness

after the birth of
Judah.

Rachel cannot
bear, and adopts
the offspring
of'Bala.

Bala's best function
is bearing sons for
Rachel to adopt .

The offspring are
legitimized.

liv

XIII. The love of wisdom has not yet produced any
spiritual qualities. If this seal is unproductive,
it withers. After heavenly love is gained, the
reason strives even more, for the greater love
becomes, the more the intellect desires to know.
XIV. But the unskilled mind cannot rise to know—
ledge of heavenly things without knowledge of
earthly ones, through the help of the imagination.
The mind does not abandon its earthly interests,
but understands them as well as it is able, and
forms imaginative concepts. To think well about
earthly good things raises the mind to a desire for
the good. So man takes his first step toward con-
templation of the invisible,

XV, Scripture accomodates itself to the infirmity
of our reason by representing invisible things in
the forms of visible ones. This is the meaning of
the description of the Heavenly Jerusalem in terms
of earthly treasures. The similitude of heavenly
to earthly makes the divine available to us imagi-
natively, and this is the chief good function of
that faculty.

XVI. There are two types of imagination, one bestial
and one rational. Only the latter can be virtuous.
Bestial imagination is idle roving of the thoughts.

Rational imagination enables us to form concepts

Rachel's act of
adoption

Mother and son
are alike

Mother is prior to
son, and independent
of him. Jacob begets
Dan and Naphtali, who
are like their mother,

Dan and Naphtali
are sons of
Bela and Jacob.

1v

out of sense impressions, or to speculate on the
life to come. By the process of abstraction, we
can imagine the other life's unmixed good and evil
on the basis of this life's mingled good and evil.
The process is both rational and imaginative.

XVII. Imagination is both instrument and act.
Genus mates with difference and produces species.
If we say reason, or gill, or intellect, we mean
either instrument or act. Instrument is prior to
act and independent of it. The mind, through imagi-
nation, engenders imagination.

XVIII. That which is not of the rational imagines
tion is not taken up by the intellect. But the
rational imagination is itself a double faculty:
one thing when set in order by reason, another when
mixed with the understanding. The former faculty
has to do with association through a familiar
species of visible objects, the latter pertains to
the ascent to concepts of the invisible through

the visible, and involves intelligence. The first
faculty is concerned with future evil and considers
nothing but the corporeal, envisaging the torments
of Hell as literally true; the second faculty
speculates on future good, ascending to contempla-
tion through understanding the visible, and inter-

preting heavenly joys in a mystical sense.

lvi

XIX, Consideration is easier to achieve if it

pertains to the imagination alone and not to the

understanding. Yet making images of present things
Dan is older;

enables one to make speculations on the future,

while hypothetical future images can enable us to

achieve true understanding. This spiritual under-
Naphtali‘yeunger,

standing cannot fall into error. But can any living

man really contemplate the future life accurately?

He fashions his picture of it according to his own
Dan, judgment épdgflent.

XX. Judgment is also that by which we condemn

ourselves if we fall into temptation of evil thoughts.

These should never go unpunished. The teaching of

The sons of Zelpha good works belongs to the carnal sense: the govern—
not yet discussed.

Leah, Rachel and ing of desires to the moral sense: the meaning of
Bela statements to the rational powers, the guidance of
Each judges his own the thoughts to the imaginative. Each thought is
tribe.

judged in its own category. Will amends will,

deed is chastened by deed. But thoughts are equal-

Dan shall jugge his
pegple. ly to be judged,

XXI. If judgment is prOperly exercised over thoughts,
it seldom has to be extended to acts. This care must
be constant, for evil can come through thought even
when the will does not consent to it.

XXII. We are incited to good by the thought of

Naphtali, comparison reward, by rapture, or by comparison with present
or conversion

 

 

\“

 

 

Naphtali a hind
let loose,

giving ggodlz words.

Zelphafis offspring,
Gad and Asher, are
adopted by Leah.

Zelpha.sorrows,
but Leah rejoices.

Gad, hgppiness,
Asher, blessed

lvii

joys. The extent of spiritual joys can be measured
by comparison with the joys of the five senses.
Rapture over invisible things comes by likening

them to the visible, by comparison or conversion.

 

 

XXIII. The subtler this contemplation is, the more
excellent, and it is available and profitable even
to the unskilled. The grace of contemplation en—
ables us to make swift surveys of our world, yet
this rapture is never far from the earth in its
leaps into the spiritual, and ever carries with it
the shadow of the corporeal.

XXIV. Giving gpodly_words applies to this specu-
lation: through the language of physical love the
spiritual is depicted, to the refreshment of man
who is both flesh and spirit. The words are sweet-
est when we sometimes have to take refuge in the
figurative meaning because the literal is fatuous.
XXV, Conquered sensuality also benefits the moral
intellect. It has to acquire temperance and patience.
Temperance comes first, then patience. The flesh is
afflicted by discipline, but the moral intellect
rejoices, and makes these qualities into virtues.
XXVI. Peace of mind comes through temperance and
patience. No temporal evil can touch the man who
has disciplined his body for the love of God. Hence

abstinence is called hgppiness, and patience blessed,

Leah adapts sons after
her sister's example.

Rachel's handmaiden
Bala.bears before
Leah' s handmaiden
Zelpha.

Leah would not adept
unless Rachel had done
so. First Leah had to
bear Reuben and Levi
before adapting Gad
and Asher.

Reuben goes out after
the birth of Gad
and Asher.

He gathers mandrakes
for his mother Leah.
She gives part of them
to Rachel. Jacob lies
with Leah. who has
bought his favor from
Rachel. Not all the
mandrakes are given up.

lviii

for the lover of affliction for God‘s sake is happy
and blessed even in adversity, while the lover of
the world is ever unsatisfied. These disciplines
of our senses are joys and not calamities.

XXVII. The moral intellect cultivates these vir-
tues as the spiritual intellect cultivates those
of the imagination. The imagination is productive
first, for when it is undisciplined it must be put
down before sensuality can be tempered. Nor would
the affection of the heart accept abstinence and
patience unless fear of judgment and hepe of reward
had been acquired first.

XXVIII. The fear of God can be internal, troubling
the conscience, or external, as when we submit to
other men for the sake of God. This fear prompts
us to undertake works of justice, once abstinence
and patience have strengthened us for obedience.
XXIX. Good reputation is thus achieved. Praise
touches the affection; yet it surrenders part of
its praise to the reason. The Holy Spirit then
illumines the reason and inflames the affection.
Reason urges affection to be moderate if it wishes
to attain virtue, and the appetite for praise is
brought under the control of reason. Desire for
praise has to be cut off gradually, until the mind

is impregnated with spiritual sweetness. The reason

«w ~\ ....._\\

Reuben could get the
mandrakes only after
the birth of Gad

and Asher.

Dan defends the city
of the soul from
within, Gad from
without.

Neither can fight
well without the
other.

Naphtali aids Dan:
Asher aids Gad.

Asher, his bread
shall be fat.

and he shall yield
dainties to princes.

Issachar. Leah' s
reward for giving
up the mandrakes.

lix

diverts this praise to the glory of God.

XXX. We praise the man who fears God and are
amazed when someone who has learned abstinence and
patience is still capable of spiritual pride.

Only fear of God merits our praise. True praise
comes after right acts, done by means of abstinence
and.patience. Once these qualities are attained,
the God—directed will can earn praise through good
works.

XXXI. These virtues fortify the man who has them.
Judgment defends him internally through his thoughts:
abstinence protects him externally by warding off
the temptations of the senses.

XXXII. Discipline of the body is useless without
discipline of the mind, nor can the latter be main-
tained without the former.

XXXIII. Hope of heavenly reward assists the judg-
ment; patience assists abstinence.

XXXIV. Patience aids us to become merciful. It
seeks justice, but tempers it with mercy.

XXIV. Patience is endowed with spiritual consolap
tion and glories in adversity. It supports the
faint—hearted. Our soul abounds in riches when
guarded by judgment, hope, abstinence and patience.
XXXVI. Once we are secure in these qualities, we

attain true joy. This is the fifth quality of the

1x

moral intellect, the reward for self discipline.

XXXVII. This joy is great in comparison to worldly

joy, but small in comparison to heavenly,

XXXVIII. It intoxicates with true sobriety and is
Rs lies down between

the borders, on the stable amid the flux of worldly cares. This
firm earth.

 

stability is the true home of the soul.
He 1. made an ass XXXIX. This joy is achieved through humbling one's
and humbles himself.
self. Self discipline prepares us for the joy of
the future life. The contemplative must learn to

live as little as possible in this world, as much

as possible on the outskirts of the next, laboring
to reach the true peace which will be free of labor.
Evil desires keep us still within this world, but
we glimpse the true peace of that other life, and
sometimes by this vision acquire fortitude against
present perils, and strength to combat all vices.

XL. Hatred of ‘vice is a virtue when we use it

 

Zebulun, the dwell~ for our brothers' welfare or in God's service. It
ing place of forti-
tude arises after we have experienced the reward of

self discipline. Fortitude bravely avenges the
injuries of the Lord, and nothing pleases him so
much as this Spiritual seal.

is born late, XLI. Yet it is a difficult virtue to attain even
for men who have attained other virtues. Some are
too torpid or timid or choleric to act with proper

zeal. A man must love truly before he can punish

i.

I:

 

last of the sons of
Leah. He protects
the seacoast and is
host to the ship-
wrecked.

Zebulun shall dwell at
the haven of the sag.

Zebu-Inn. M

These six sons of Leah
are not enough.

Dinah, shame, is born
after Zebulun.

Zebulun must precede her.

lxi
justly. He must have some knowledge of spiritual
matters. Then punishment can be directed to
benefit and not to revenge.

XLII. Zeal for justice should defend sinners against
their persecutors and protect weak men against temp—
tations by teaching and preaching. It must be
compassionate toward offenders, and brave and
hospitable.

XLIII. It must be ready to offer security and
protection to the feeble and the guileless who have
been injured by the discord and trickery of evil
men and spirits.

XLIV. This seal is a.powerful virtue, one of the

greatest of God's graces. The church's best gift

from God is the ability to save souls. Zeal 13,;
good dowgy.
XLV. We dare not think a man can be sinless even

with these six virtues. We are always prone to

sins of ignorance and.pride. When we fall into
some sin for which we have chastised others, we
learn shame. It is an ordered shame when we blush
only for sin. This shame only comes after zeal
for justice.

XLVI. Hatred of vice must precede proper shame,
otherwise we may feel it only for loss of reputa-

tion. Be not proud of shame, for even bad men

 

 

Dinah, that ud eat

is a woman, and weaker
than a man.

She placates Zebulun,

but does not found
a tribe.

She is most alluring.

Sichem, vain glory,
and his father Emor,
self love, seduce
Dinah.

1xii

feel it. Be not ashamed of poverty (the Lord him-
self was poor), nor of dirt, nor of bad grammar.
Even spiritual men sometimes still feel such shame,
or are proud of their eloquence in preaching against
pride.

XLVII. True shame is rare: it has to do with the
spiritual and not the physical.

XLVIII. Shame is that_judgment: by it every man
is judged and punished in his own conscience. Shame
implies awareness of guilt, and offense implies a
punishment to be feared. The more a man loves
himself, the more harshly he will judge himself.
This is a feminine virtue because shame is less
constant than the others, and weakens the heart,
interfering with the performance of brave deeds.
XLIX. This feminine virtue softens the boldness

of the masculine ones. Zeal is vehement, and shame
moderates its anger. Yet it is not worthy to be
ranked with the other virtues, for all its honor
and pleasantness. Its function is to allure with
pleasing modesty, so that we should admire men of
humble heart.

L. Many men practice self discipline for shame
rather than for the love of God. Self love and
vain glory, the qualities of stupid men, labor to

obtain human acclaim.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Dinah is wrong to
leave her chambers.

She is seduced.

Meanwhile her brothers
are feeding the sheep.

Jacob, not the
brothers, is first
to learn of her
betrayal.

The brothers rage.

Emor and Sichem agree
to be circumcised, but
the brothers would
prefer not to give

up Dinah.

They are not pleased
at the match. 'Yet
their severity is too
great; they should
have been lenient
with the newly cir-
cumcised.

lxiii

LI. These qualities corrupt preper shame, which
should never be concerned with the acclaim of
others. It ought to devote itself to a man's inner
life. When he becomes over curious about the char—
acters or failings of others, he becomes corrupted,
filled with envious desire for vain glory.

LII. The other virtues employ themselves for the
benefit of mankind, feeling generous concern over
others' fortunes. These disciplined emotions are
good. But vain love of self turns this interest
into self corruption. The virtues do not tell us
we have become corrupted; it is self knowledge that
warns us.

LIII. When a man knows he has been thus corrupted,
he should be very severe with himself, practicing
the sternest self discipline to correct the fault.
Pride is only preper if tempered with shame. There
cannot be prOper shame until pride is brought under
discipline. The condition is a hard one, for the
virtuous mind prefers to glory only in God, and
not in itself.

LIV. The virtuous mind does not approve of self
correction for shame's sake and not for God's. Yet
virtue can be ruinously harsh to the weak whom it
punishes too severely. Habits corrected for the
wrong reason should not be destroyed, but our
intention should be amended, and good works not

abandoned.

Of the three pain-
ful days following
circumcision, the

third is the worst.

Simeon and Levi
should be temperate.

They should not have
slain the men with
swords

for the sake of one
girl's chastity. Jacob
disapproves.

A man is slain,
a wall is under-
mined.

Dinah should have stayed
at home, for her going
out caused her ruin.

She was'born after
Issachar and Zebulun.

These are the seven
offspring of Jacob
and.Leah.

To be true sons of
Jacob, they must be
obedient. Even Reuben
should have obeyed.

lxiv
LV. Self knowledge is painful: we learn by it to
endure external harshness, the shame of our faults
and the retribution of God. The last of these is
the greatest pain.
LVI. The penitent mind must remain hapeful even
in its grief. Yet grief and hope have to be tem-
perate in their correction, each balancing the other.
LVII. Over-eager correction by these virtues, using
upbraiding and impossible exactions, causes the mind
too great distress, leading to ruinous excesses of

abstinence and depression. All this is done for

shame.
LVIII. Too much of this affliction unhinges the
mind. That virtue is immoderate which does not

yield to the dictates of prudence.
LIX. Shame should be felt only for God's sake, not
for man's. When too concerned with worldly matters
it becomes corrupted, and mental downfall results.

LX. Shame follows sweet spiritual experience and

the hatred of vices. The self knowledge they give
us causes true modesty. Such are the seven virtues
resulting from the moral activity of the mind.

LXI. To be virtuesg. these emotions have to be both

ordered and moderate. This is true even of the

fear of God, the first of the virtues.

LXII.

Fear can be inadequate, or too great. Even

 

 

 

7..

 

 

 

Reuben is unstable
as water.

When fhll-grown, he
seduces Bela, his
father's concubine.
Thou.shalt not excel,
because thou wentest

to t father' a
bed.

Reuben, thou art
my firstborn. 91

might, and the begin-
ning of my sorrow.

Reuben 1- Mills

in gifts, ggeater
in command.

Levi, Judah, Zebulun
obey him; Issachar
goes out, Simeon
comes in.

Judah and Zebulun
are stronger than
the others, but
Reuben is still
stronger.

lxv

good men grow too anxious. Fear should be moderate,
even when caused by solicitude for others. Prudence
can lead to illumination or dissipate itself in
anxiety.

LXIII. This over-anxiety is a corruption of the
imagination, causing even prayer to be interrupted
by wandering thoughts. Immoderate fear is an un—
stable virtue.

LXIV. It can cause more good or evil than any other
virtue, corrupt the mind or restore it. Powerful
against the lusts, it is the beginning of all virtue
and of profitable sorrow,

LXV. The first gift of God is a good will; without
it we cannot do any good. Fear of the Lord enables
the will to become good, and man is thereby redeemed.
So fear is the best gift we can receive of God. It
is more powerful than the other virtues, stronger
than hope, love or hatred. It can exclude joy and
make room for sorrow. Love and hatred are stronger
than the other emotions, but less powerful than
fear. All our emotions give us reason for fear.
There is great danger in it unless it is tempered

by discretion.

LXVI. Discretion should govern all the emotions,
setting them in order and moderating them, lest

they turn into vices.

 
 
 
 

Joseph, born late, is
the most loved by
Jacob. His brothers
are uncontrolled
before his birth.

After the seduction
of Dinah, the brothers
learn to be controlled
by the son of Rachel.

Only Joseph is clad
in the long robe. He
controls his brothers,
is honored by the
Egyptians, is the
husband of a virgin.
Joseph is enriched by
famine, while his
brothers are im-
poverished.

Joseph dreams of
being honored by
his family.

The brothers hate
him for his severity.

Their offence is re-
ported to their
father by Joseph.

He disciplines
his brothers.

lxvi
LXVII. It is the late-born and most valuable faculty
of the mind, indiSpensable to the maintenance of the
good. Great eXperience of other virtues teaches
discretion, as do hearing, reading and innate judg-
ment to a lesser degree. Though we fail, we must
school ourselves in virtue, finally acquiring self
discipline. Even if we are virtuous we fail shame-
fully until we learn discretion. No mental faculty
but the reason can produce this quality.
LXVIII. True discretion carries out actions pro-
perly, realises dangers in time, cautions other
men who are tempted, and is heeded by them. It is
a.preserver of purity, a comforter in affliction.
It increases in adversity, when other virtues fall
away.
LXIX. Discretion governs the intention of the mind
and all its faculties, and tempers the virtues.
They are difficult to govern, constantly over-
reaching their capacities, and falling into hypoc-
risy, the most hateful to God of all offenses. Dis-
cretion brings this sin to the attention of the mind.
LXX. It reveals hidden evils, disciplines the
virtues and sets them to work. It knows the body
as well as the mind, and ministers to it. It dis-

criminates between merit and grace. It makes plain

the nature of temptation and spiritual solace. Dis-

 

 

 

 

 

 

. n
I
s

 

 

He attains complete
power.

His younger brother,
Benjamin, is born to
Rachel, but only
long afterward.

Joseph has to be much
the older.

Rachel labors
in great pain,

and dies in bearing

Benjamin.

Only thus can
Benjamin be born.

lxvii

cretion knows the whole man and all his capabilities.
LXXI. So it leads to full self-knowledge, as con-
templation leads to knowledge of God, Both are
part of the reasoning faculty, but contemplation
comes long after the exercise of discretion. Know-
ledge of self must come before knowledge of God.
LXXII. Man, the image of God, provides the best
mirror for the sight of God. The rational faculty
in man best reflects God. Discretion studies the
self, in order to know God. In such studies, il-
lumination bursts upon a man, inspiring him to see
the divine light. With this desire he enters upon
contemplation.

LXXIII. Desire Oppresses the mind that yearns
chiefly for the grace of contemplation, and grief
grows with desire, for the mind knows that contem-
plation is beyond its power to attain. When a man
achieves the contemplative state, reason fails.
LXXIV. This failure is unavoidable. Earthly things
have to be abandoned to reach heavenly ones. Three
levels of the knowledge of God are attainable in
this life: knowledge by faith, by reason, and by
contemplation. Contemplation takes us beyond reason.
and leaves us closest to God.

LXXV. Knowledge of the created order is a lower

stage. To attain spiritual knowledge, one should

 
 
 

Self-knowledge is
a.mcuntain peak
the philosOphers
cannot climb.

It is difficult to
climb the mountain
and difficult to
stand there, but
Peter said, It is
good for us to be
here.

Christ leads his
disciples up the
mountain. It cannot
be scaled without him.
There we witness

his Transfiguration,
recognise Moses and
Elias. and hear God.

Christ takes three
disciples with him:
one would not be
enough.

If you do not see Christ
transfigured you have
not climbed the mountain.
There he is clad in
heavenly garments,

but in the

valley he wore

earthly ones.

Do not accept the
Transfiguration unless
Moses and.Elias attest
that the vision is true.

lxviii
chiefly study himself. Self-knowledge looks down
on philoSOphy and the inadequate worldly knowledge
of the philosOphers.

LXXVI. It is difficult to attain and difficult to
retain, but long usage makes self-knowledge a man's
chief delight: to have it is perfect felicity,

LXXVII. Truth brings us to this state. Without

it we cannot succeed. Follow the truth, if you
wish to know yourself.

LXXVIII. The reward for attaining self-knowledge
is illumination, understanding of the law and the
prephets without a guide, and comprehension of
heavenly mysteries.

LXXIX. Truth leads to self—knowledge through
concern with action, meditation and prayer. With—
out prayer and a zeal for good.works, no amount of
study will avail.

LXXX. Perfect self—knowledge merits the vision of
truth transformed into divine wisdom. Before it
was couched in human terms, now in heavenly ones,
yet it is one truth. While we are concerned with
this world we learn only a temporal sort of truth.

LXXXI. The evidence of Scripture has to support

the heavenly vision. Earthly truth does not need
it, being confirmed by our own experience. Both

literal and figurative meanings of Scripture must

 
 

The devil can be
transfigured as well
as Christ.

The disciples have not
yet fallen down.

At the sound of

God's voice, they
fall.

God's words are
ambiguous.

The sound of his
voice comes only upon
the mountain; man

must climb to hear it.

Joseph assembles the
tribes of Israel. .A
tabernacle is built.
First the assembly
has to be a synagogue,
later a church.

Then Benjamin can fall
into ecstasy.

He weds wisdom, and
abides in the bride-
chamber. The death of
Rachel, the falling
down of the disciples,
the marriage, all
describe this ecstasy.

The death of
Rachel and the
ecstasy of Benjamin
are compared.

lxix

be applicable. Only such confirmation can assure
us we are not deceived by the devil.

LXXXII. So far the divine vision has not been
achieved. Now human capacities fail: sense, mem-
ory and reason are annihilated. God himself wit—
nesses to his own truth, in a manner only faith
can grasp.

LXXXIII. Revelation comes after perfect self-know—
ledge. God wishes man to establish himself in a
state of perfection.

LXXXIV. Let a man govern himself well, and train

himself in the interior life as well as delighting

- in it. Once a discipline of thought and desire is

effective, they will center on the interior life in
obedience to reason. Then contemplation can be
merited.

LXXXV. This ecstasy is all-engrossing; the contem-
plative wishes never to be absent for its joy. His

love grows constantly.

LXXXVI. The first type of contemplation is above
reason but not outside it. The second is above

and outside it, having to do with matters of faith.
When contemplation.passes beyond reason it does
away with it, but finally contemplation passes even
beyond its own powers and depends entirely on

revelation.

 

 

.vl
u"

 

Benjamin goes down
into Egypt.

The two brothers
delight in one
another.

Benjamin causes
his mother's death.
He goes down into
Egypt.

He embraces Joseph.

lxx

LXXXVII. The attention of the mind at last is
called back from the eternal to the temporal. The
mind ponders what has been revealed to it, and
prepares to use its knowledge in everyday life.
Meditation, the process of attaining self-knowledge,
impinges upon contemplation; pure intelligence
makes itself available to true prudence. Medita-
tion and contemplation are entirely compatible and
mutually beneficial, agreeing in a single attestap

tion of the truth.

Scripture has now revealed its meaning: contemplap
tion rises above reason; it goes back down to be
of service in the world, and finally is compatible

with the process of acquiring self knowledge.

 

lxxi

2. Richard of St. Victor's Remarks on Allegory

Before attempting to fit this extraordinary treatise into its
place in mediaeval allegory, let us abstract from it the one element
which does not appear in the parallel synapses of its literal and
figurative meanings. Scattered through the eighty-seven chapters are
the author's observations on the nature of Scriptural allegory and on
his own use of it. It is possible to rearrange these remarks into an
exposition of his view of the valid uses of figurative discourse. Such
a digest of his statements follows: as nearly as possible his own
language is retained.

Holy Scripture is the bed of Rachel, in which we seek for wisdom
concealed in allegory. But moral preparation is necessary before we
are fit to understand this spiritual meaning. When Scriptural reading
arouses us to compunction rather than contemplation, we know that we

6
3 The inter-

are still unprepared to unveil the allegorical meaning.
pretation of Scripture is part of the general contemplative process
through which we rise to a knowledge of the invisible through knowledge
of the visible.6u Thus the description of the Heavenly Jerusalem in
terms of earthly treasures is couched in these words to enable us to
rise to contemplation through tracing a similitude between the earthly
and the heavenly with the aid of the imagination. This is the imagine»
65

tion's most useful function.

 

63Benjamin Minor, IV.

61‘v, xv.

651w

lxxii

We take Scriptural descriptions of future punishment literally,
being sure they are so intended, and hence do not seek a figurative
meaning for Hell and Gehenna. Yet descriptions of future rewards in
terms of a land flowing with milk and honey, or some such figure, are
obviously figurative, and a man of good sense will proceed immediately
to inquire into the mystical meaning. However, the distinction does
not always hold good; a description of physical torment may have a figura-
tive meaning, and one of heaven may warrant a simple interpretation even
though it uses physical terms.66

As man is made up of flesh and spirit, many passages have a literal
meaning that is carnal and a figurative meaning that is Spiritual. Such
passages refresh and delight both his natures: yet strangely enough a man
is often most deeply affected by a.passage when it seems that nothing in
the literal meaning is at all remarkable. The effectiveness may lie in
the fact that the pleasant fatuousness of the literal forces us to take
refuge in the spiritual meaning.67

Scriptural authority is absolutely necessary to make revelation
acceptable. Both figurative and literal authority are requisite in
confirming the truth of the contemplative's vision. Yet it is the glory
of the spiritual meaning which provides the chief confirmation.

Scripture has various means of extending, restricting or changing

the signification of a thing. Sometimes the significance is revealed

through a.place, sometimes through a.person, sometimes through an act.69

66XVIII.

67mm.
68mm .

69LXXXVI .

 

lxxiii

Through these changing modes of signification a single truth is set
forth, complex but clear. In the death of Rachel, the entrance of
Benjamin into Egypt, and the embrace of Joseph and Benjamin, an event,
a country, and an action are the allegorical means of describing the

stages of a single process, the achieving of contemplation.

3. Evaluation of Richard's Use of Allegory.

One thing emerges clearly from these remarks: allegory is not
employed by Richard primarily to expound Scripture, as we would under-
stand such exposition. He is following the tendency we found in his
predecessors to abstract from the Jacob—Joseph story those elements which
can be useful for setting forth a method for fostering the contemplap
tive life. However he has gone far beyond any other Scriptural alle-
gorist in the direction of establishing a systematic, carefully detailed
study of the steps involved. With an extremely high degree of artistry,
he has developed a.point-forapoint correspondence between his contemplae
tive the010gy and the Genesis story, together with the transfiguration
narrative from the Gospels. The material is memorable; it lies ready
to hand, and Richard builds his treatise upon it.

One is drawn irresistably to asking a question which seems to be
almost unanswerable: to what extent does the allegorist really believe
that he is expounding Scripture? To us it is self-apparent that such a
work, whatever its artistry, however successful it may be as an exposi-
tion of the preparation for contemplation, is hardly exegetical, in that
it does not "explain the meaning" of the ancient Hebrew narrative. Did

it do so for the author, or for his pupils? Does Richard believe that

 

7OLXXXVII.

lxxiv

Gad and Asher actually typify abstinence and patience, when nothing in
the narrative portrays them as either abstinent or patient, and only

the Benedictions of Jacob and the pseudo—etymology of their names give
any basis for any figurative interpretation whatsoever? The problem of
the intention of a writer is an acute one for us. For the mediaeval
allegorist the acute problem was the intention of God himself in shaping
history and its records as he did. Confident that God had placed all
the figurative meanings in Scripture, and even the figurative aspect

of the fact in the fact itself, the exegete's task was to become sensitive
to all hints of a hidden meaning. Exegesis, then, is closely connected
with self-knowledge; more so than with a knowledge of Hebrew, or of the
history and geography of the Holy Land. Nothing makes us feel more
remote from the twelfth century than a realization of the difference
between its estimate of the equipment necessary for a Biblical scholar
and ours. Yet believing as he did that to understand himself thoroughly
was to understand God's purpose revealed in nature and in Scripture, the
mediaeval allegorical exegete must really have believed that he was
eXpounding Scripture,

The question of intention in this type of interpretation rises
especially in the case of Richard, for his methodical allegorism is so
conspicuous by its consistency. As typical of the contrasting use of
figurative interpretation in other exegetes, let us recall the passages
from Abrose cited in Part III of this introduction. It will be remem-
bered that he hypothecates an allegorical correSpondence between Jacob
and the contemplative life, touching upon the literal story, but never

develOping the allegory into a structure that parallels the narrative.

lxxv

At another point he sets up Jacob as both temperance and reason, while
Joseph is chastity; yet the father-son relationship plays no eXpress
part in the allegory, thus weakening the nexus between literal and
figurative discourse.

Augustine's more systematic exposition of the allegory on the
Jacob story, while the most deveIOped of any Scriptural allegory before
Richard, also falls short, we recall, in failing to take obvious advan-
tage of the entire story line. Only a single episode receives any
thoroughpgoing deveIOpment: the account of the finding of the mandrakes.

The similarity of Richard's work to that of his predecessors, I
conclude, is slight as compared with the differences between them. Like
commentators perhaps as far back as Hosea, he takes Jacob as a type of
the contemplative life; yet there is a significant difference at this
very point. Jacob-the-contemplative-man has become a sort of a stage
on which the drama of spiritual discipline is played. It is the gpglg-
ties of mind of such a.person that act out the drama, in the characters
of Leah, Rachel and their children. The case is precisely the same as

with mediaeval plays such as The Castle of Perseverance, where the stage

 

is the human soul. Nowhere is this interiorisation made eXplicit—-there
is no reason to assume Richard was aware that he had made a.background
out of what was formerly a.principle figure-«but for the literary his-
torian it is obvious that allegorical exegesis is paralleling the drama.
The fact that we can equate this work with drama implies that it
sustains a dramatic tension, as is uniquely the case. Previous exegetes
had operated perfunctorily in picking out a Christological figure here,

a moral or anagogical one there, but Richard takes a whole block of the

lxxvi

story, from the wedding of Leah to Jacob's death, and erects upon it
a highly artistic, detailed and totally consistent structure that one
appreciates all the more once it has been subjected to close analysis.

If I in turn may eXpound meaning through figure, I would descri‘m:
the difference between Richard and his predecessors as the difference
between two ranges of mountains: one is overtopped by a level line of
cumulus cloud, the straight lower edge of which parallels the solid
outline of the range below it, while the cloud heads tower above the
mass. Such is Richard's structure, solidly underlaid by a continuous
narrative, topped as solidly by a continuous allegorical line, of vary-
ing density but without a break. The other range of mountains (represent-
ing any other work of Scriptural exegesis of the Middle Ages) is broken
in outline, with its discontinuity reflected in the disrupted cloud
formation above it. There is no paralleling of literal density by
figurative density, but a section of narrative, a Sporadic allegory,

a break in the narrative, a mass of figurative discourse, arbitrary in
size and application.

Of the two ranges in my metaphor, the impressively solid one that
is Richard's is the only such to be found in Mediaeval Scriptural
exegesis. His larger work, the Benjamin_ggjg£, begins with a similar
correspondence set up between Scripture and speculative theology: the
contemplative life is the ark of the covenant, a state of perfection
to which God has called man to pledge himself. The moral discipline
antecedent to this state is the atrium or forecourt of the Holy of
Holies. Once having established this correSpondence, however, the author

does not dwell upon it. Indeed it is not capable of the same allegorical

lxxvii

parallelism as the Jacob story, for there is no such narrative line of
literal meaning to be exploited.

If the uniqueness of the Benjamin Minor has at length been estab—
lished, there remains the important task of accounting for this. The
work's peculiar quality lies, I believe, in the circumstances of the
intellectual milieu in which it was written, and in the purpose it was
intended to fulfill. To place the Benjgmin Minor in its contemporary
setting, as it was earlier placed in its historical one, let us finally
consider the Victorine school and the part it played in the life of 12th

century Paris .

V. The Victorine School

The history of the famous school connected with the Abbey of St.
Victor, situated on the left bank of the Seine at the present site of
the Halls aux Vins, begins with the philos0pher William of Champeaux,
its founder. Students of the 12th century controversy over universals
will recall that William was the first antagonist on whom Abelard sharp-
ened his combative powers in this great argument. At the time the young
Abelard came to Paris to study under William, the older scholar was the
most famous teacher of rhetoric of his day, archdeacon of Notre Dame,
and its "scholar”: that is, one charged by the bishop with authority
over all the schools of the city. Abelard himself, who became his great-
est enemy, calls him the first dialectician of his time.71

William was born in 1070. He had studied under Roscelin, the first

 

71
Historia Calamitatum, II; this chapter contains the whole account
of their relationship.

lxxviii

mediaeval philosopher to raise the question of the objective reality

of universals. While Roscelin held that the word universalngas nothing
but the puff of air expelled in pronouncing it, that the concept had no
reality beyond that, his pupil William became the father of the realist
school, dedicated to the defence of the objective validity of universal
concepts. Before the end of the century he was teaching dialectic, and
later metaphysics, at Paris. As for his bitter controversy with his own
pupil, we know from Abelard's account of it that William was forced into
an untenable position, and so worsted by the younger man as to withdraw
in confusion from his elevated position. He retired to a ”hermitage"
outside the walls of the city, a secluded Abbey which also provided
shelter for the students who followed him there. Abelard goes on to
state acidly that his actual motive was "to seem all the holier, so that
he might receive advancement."72 However this may be, the outcome was
that he very shortly became Bishop of Chalons. At this point he ceased
to play a.part in the history of the Abbey of St. Victor, having estab—
lished its school and furnished it with certain buildings to accommodate
pUpils. These were that segment of the ever-fluid student body of Paris
that had followed their teacher to his retreat.

Such was the inception of the school of the Abbey of St. Victor,
administered by the Canons Regular of the Order of St. Augustine, It
was destined to become the most influential center of studies in Paris,
and formed one of the three bodies of masters and students that eventual-
ly merged into the University of Paris, the other two being the Cathedral
School and that of the Abbey of St. Geneviéve. It is generally known

that in the early part of the 12th century, teaching in the schools was

 

Ibid.

 

lxxix

still in a very loosely organized stage. The departure from any part1-
cular school of a teacher as illustrious as William was likely to mean
the concomitant departure of a large part of its student body. We have
no way of knowing how many followed him to the Abbey, but we know, even
from his enemy Abelard. how great was his prestige. We also know that
within twenty years the new school became the most influential in
Christendom.73 If even Abelard admits that he continued to study under
William after the harassed teacher "warmly invited him to leave,"7y'the
power of attracting students must have been great.

However effective William may have been as an attraction for the
Abbey school, his stay at St. Victor was short. It was not until Hugh,
a Fleming by birth, became associated with it about a decade later that
it attained the eclat that made it a center for studies in philosophy,
theology and literature. By the time of Hugh's death in 111:0 the Abbey
itself had become a large and powerful one. The Canons were involved
in the administrative duties of the cathedral, and among other offices
they discharged was that of the administration of their own school.

Of the actual curriculum and formal structure of the Victorine
school we know nothing, except that it followed the traditional course
of liberal studies organized around the trivium and quadrivium. Still
it is possible to reconstruct a good deal of the teaching method and
even the material from the voluminous writings of Hugh, its greatest

-figure, and from those of Richard, the formulator of a system of specu-

 

73Fourier Bonnard, Histoire de l'Abbaye Royale de Saint Victor I,ll.
Yugp. cit.

lxxx

lative the010gy, with whose works I have been dealing. It is especial-
ly interesting to note, in view of the school's founding by the realist
William, that the Victorines never thereafter devoted themselves to pure
dialectics. Nowhere in the work of either Hugh or Richard is the name
of William or of Abelard mentioned, nor is there any discussion of the
violent controversy on the subject. However, the Victorines had a
position that can be defined in terms of this discussion, and it can be
clearly abstracted from their writings.75 Whether or not the omission
of mention of the liveliest intellectual issue of the day was deliberate,
it is worth comment that Hugh, living under a rule that derived from
St. Augustine, and head of a school founded by the leader of the realist
faction, departed radically from Platonic realism in his own position.
For him, the rational process had for its immediate object 393 the ideas
or universal concepts of which sense data.provide but a poor cepy, but
subjective images of things which the intellect furnishes with an order—
ed and rational classification. He states, in his teaching manual:

The concern of logic is with things themselves, making

inquiry into their meaning, either by the intelligence...

or through the reasonigg faculty. Logic studies species

and genera of things.7

Sense data become, then, for both Hugh and Richard, of fundamental
importance for the rational process. This is, of course, a non-realist
point of view: it is the modified position which Thomas Aquinas was

later to uphold in stating that nothing exists in the mind that was not

previously in the senses. The body of Hugh's writing, tacitly or

 

759p, c t., I, 99.
76

Didascalicon II, XVIII.

lxxxi

explicitly based upon this assumption, merits for him the title given
by one of the foremost modern students of the Victorines: ”the first
scholastic."77

His Summa Sententiarum was the classic manual of scholasticism.
Peter Lombard, who went to school to the Victorines, later was to write
a more famous collection of Sentences, yet this is considered to be an
obvious borrowing from the Sentences of Hugh.78 His influence upon the
course of philosophical develcpment in the 13th century, the great age
of scholasticism, is obviously considerable if he merits the name of
first of the scholastics. As for his place in his own century, it was
very great. He represented, more completely than any other thinker,
the condition of philosOphical and theological studies of the first
half of the century, both as regards the scope of the questions he treat-
ed, and as regards his doctrine in itself. Never a public figure in
the sense that William of Champeaux, Abelard and Bernard of Clairvaux
were, he exercised his great influence by means of teaching, philosOphi-
cal writing and correspondence. Bonaventure, after a century and a
half, considered his writing to have been an encyclOpedia of the learn—

ing of his time,79

and Vincent of Beauvais, himself an encyc10pedist,
8
praised his great knowledge of the liberal arts. 0 Thomas Aquinas,

even in taking a position in apposition to Hugh on a.particular point

 

7Bonnard, 0p. cit., I, 108.
78

fiignon, Les Origjnes de la Scolastique et Hugues de Saint Victor,
1. 32-3 -

7
9De reductione artium ad theologian VII, 501, cited in Mignon,

gp. cit., I, 3.
Ibid.

lxxxii

of doctrine, says of his writing: "The words of Hugh of St. Victor are
those of a master, and have the force of authority."81

Self-Knowledge

To devote attention to Hugh when our chief concern is with his
successor Richard is not actually a digression, for the Victorines
formed a distinct school, with definite fields of concentration and a
common point of view. From Hugh, the first and greatest member of the
group, to more obscure writers within the next hundred and fifty years,
the Victorines produced sufficient writing on philosOphical and theo—
logical subjects so that some ten of them are represented in the Patro-
legia. Adam of Saint Victor is the only one whose name is likely to
be known to the layman, for he was a writer of sequences which are still
in use in church music. Richard, our chief concern, drew upon the theo-
logical teachings of his master Hugh and became one of the greatest of
formal speculative theologians in all the history of Christianity. Yet
Hugh's interests were considerably wider. Theologian, philosopher,
student of natural science, and psychologist, he was as close to taking
all knowledge to be his province as a theologian could consistently
be.82

A.matter of prime concern to the thinkers of his age was the matter
of self-knowledge. Carthusian, Cistercian and Benedictine thinkers,

among them St. Bernard of Clairvaux, devoted a great deal of considerap

 

81
éumma Theologicg II, II, V, art. 1, ad 1.

82See Smalley, The Study of the Bible in the Middle Ages, for all
of Chapter III, "The Victorines," especially p. 80. She deals parti-
cularly with Andrew of St. Victor, who applied his master's systematic
thought to literal exegesis.

lxxxiii

tion to this question. As none of them started from a basis of scepticism,
the questions they asked themselves had to do not with the validity of
human knowledge, but the method by which man knows, and the objects of
his consideration. The purpose of their study, whatever psychological
results there may have been as well, was to forward man's understanding
of God. Since Augustine's Confessions, the great romance of the self-
aware loving intellect in search of the divine, the quest for knowledge
of one's self had been an integral part of the deveIOpment of Christian
philosophy in the West. Man, made in the image of God (whether in res-
pect to his ability to love, to think or to act), learns to know him
through knowledge of himself. As Richard of St. Victor, quoting Juvenal,
remarks: "That command, Know Thyself, came down from heaven."83 The
quotation, usually taken directly from the Greek, is found repeatedly
among 12th century writers.

Though the concern with self-knowledge reached these men through
Augustine, it assumed a new aspect with them. Augustine had shared
Plato's distrust for the objective validity of sense impressions, where-
as the Victorines mindful of St. Paul's remark that "The invisible things
[of God] from the creation of the world are clearly seen, being under-
stood by the things that are made,"8hr viewed the process of knowledge
as a continuous one, from sense impressions of the external world, through
knowledge of self, up to the point where divine grace would assist the

contemplative to knowledge of the invisible. Knowledge of any kind, on

 

83Benjamin Minor, LXXVIII.

8hRomans I, 20.

lxxxiv

any level, could then be considered altogether worthy of the contempla-
tive's attention, in terms of his ultimate concern with the divine.

Yet the physical world, at best, is an inadequate revelation com-
pared to that afforded by the study of man, the noblest work of God.
And if man is indeed this worthy of attention, what other man is it
possible to know as well as that one with whom we are most familiar,
our own self? Both classic and Christian scripture lent support to the
primacy of self-knowledge. The Socratic "Know Thyself" already cited
was frequently drawn upon, and coupled with the single Biblical text
that could be stretched to coincide with it: "If thou know not thyself,

85

O thou fairest among women, go follow after thy kids." This latter

text was interpreted to mean that one should search in his own nature
to discover the nature of God.86

The search took up the attention of some of the most acute minds
of the 12th century, of whom St. Bernard's name is the most familiar
to the modern reader.87 The quest of self—knowledge had two aSpects:
through it one trains himself to become capable of loving God, and through
it one also recognises in the structure of his own nature the "image and
likeness'of God that man was intended to be. This inquiry into the

nature of the self was of such supreme importance for St. Bernard that

he marks as the first and gravest downward step in the falling away of

 

8
5Song of Songs, I, 7, Douay-Rheims version.
86The best discussion of the question of self-knowledge in the
Middle Ages is to be found in Gilson, The Spirit of Mediaeval Philosophy,
XI: "Self Knowledge and Christian Socratism."

87See Gilson, The Mystical Theology of St, Bernard, passim, and
especially Chapter IV.

lxxxv

the spiritual aspirant from his preper concern, the fault of curiosity
about anything else.88 Hugh's position about knowledge and self-knowledge
is exactly the same: in the Didascalicon he eloquently pleads with the
religious student to pray, rather than to study or teach, and above all
not to be an intellectual busybody.89
Far from being a selfish concern, such self-knowledge is as basic
to charitable activity and education as it is to self-discipline. Only
with such an approach can man understand his place in the universe. For
the Christian, the Socratic precept was interpreted to mean: know thy
proper place in the created order. Through self—knowledge we are enabled

0
9 It will be

to establish that inward order that benefits our position.
recalled that Richard of St. Victor makes ordering of the passions into
virtues, or sons of Jacob, the principle concern of the greater part of
his treatise.

The quest for self-knowledge, as eXpressed in terms of recognising
and setting in order the impulses of our nature, is an appropriate sub-
ject for teaching. We know that it was such for the Victorines. On
the one hand, we have the evidence of their influence, as dispersed
through several literatures in moral and meditative handbooks such as
those already discussed. On the other hand, at the fountainhead, the

school itself, we have the most explicit evidence of the precise place

of moral discipline in the process of the acquisition of self-knowledge.

 

881bid., p. 155. See also Bernard, The Steps of Humility, ed.

Burch, Chapter 10, p. 181.

8
9V, VIII.

90See Augustine, De Civitate Dei, XIX, 13.

lxxxvi

We have the Benjamin hinor, indubitably used in lecturing on this sub~
ject. We noted that the first chapter is addressed to young men, who
are the hearers. We noted the reiteration and immediacy that mark the
oral style, and the rhetoric suitable to this type of delivery. The
Jacob-Joseph material certainly served a mnemonic purpose, whatever
added value the Scriptural allegory afforded. Internal evidence of the
treatise itself, then, indicates that it was intended for school use,
but in addition we have considerable evidence in Hugh's teaching work,
the Didascalicon.

The Didascalicon.

In order to demonstrate the filiation of the two books, let us
recall that Richard was the pupil of Hugh, having Spent his entire active
life at the Abbey, and being a generation younger. Hugh's intellectual
interests ranged very widely,91 but Richard's were all centered upon
the systematic presentation of speculative theology. In the course of
his teaching Hugh prepared the work which I will now discuss. The
‘idascglicon, given a Greek title apparently for the sake of prestige,
as were the works of the contemporary humanist, John of Salisbury, occup
pies one hundred columns of the Patrologia. It sets forth in seven
books the elements of a liberal education for one intended for the clois-
ter. I conceive of its having filled a pedagOgic place comparable to
that of the modern Humanities course in an American university. There
follows a short digest of this work, omitting such chapters as concern

the philosoPhical aspects of the practical or mechanic arts such as

 

l
9 See Appendix C for his extended defense of the proper use of
allegorical exegesis.

lxxxvii

stagecraft or wool spinning, or those that deal in detail with the sub-
ject matter of various branches of the trivium and quadrivium.

Digest of the Didascalicon

There are two principle factors in the education of a man: read-
ing and meditation. Reading comes first in the process of training,
and this book deals with it in giving instruction in the technique of
reading.92

The first thing we must seek is wisdom, for in it consists the form
of perfect beauty. Wisdom illumines man so that he can know himself
and others. The immortal soul, through wisdom, looks back to its origin,
and recognises that it has become unlovely, and searches for something
outside itself. Know thyself is said to have been written on the tri-
pod of Apollo. For if a man is sufficiently mindful of his origin,
he recognises the hatefulness of mutability. The soul understands
invisible things and their causes through the intellect, and apprehends
visible forms through the action of the senses. It goes forth to sen-
sible things through either the senses or intellectual understanding,
and returns to itself, bearing their likenesses.

PhiIOBOphy is the study and acquisition of this wisdom, and is
of great excellence. Only man is capable of it, for he is the only
creature with a rational soul.9u There are many different aspects of

philosoPhy, considered as the theoretical basis of all knowledge,95

 

2
9 I, I.

931, II.
941
95I

, IV,
, v.

lxxxviii

Two things reestablish the divine likeness in man: speculation
over truth and exercise of virtue: in these respects man is like God,
who is wise and Just, though God is immutable and man is mutable. Man's
intelligence works through the investigation of truth and the study of
morals. It is divided into two parts: the theoretical or speculative
intelligence, and the practical or active, which is called ethical or
moral.96

There are four branches of knowledge: theoretical, practical,
mechanical, and logical.97 The theoretical is divided into theology,
mathematics, and physics.98 There is a coherence among all the arts,
so that to study one to the exclusion of the others is not profitable.99

Meditation begins in reading, but it is not restradned by any rules
or precepts that govern the art of reading. It loves to soar and to
wander. The beginning of education is reading, and its consummation
is meditation. Once the mind has learned to seek, through created
things, the creator of all, and to know him, it has received both learn-
ing and Joy: this is the great pleasure of meditation. There are three
sorts of meditation: consideration of conduct, study of precepts, in—
vestigation of the divine. The more one knows how much all things de-
serve his wonder, the more attentively he is given to meditate on the

100

marvellous works of God. Six things are necessary for learning:

a humble mind, zeal for inquiry, a quiet life, meditation, poverty, a

 

96: 1x.

9

971, XIII.

98II, II.
9911, v.

10011, x1.

lxxxix
101 102
foreign land. Of these, humility is the beginning of education.
Meditative skill has to be applied to the three-fold interpretation
of Scripture, for the events themselves have mystical significance which
only the phi1080pher can interpret. The divine wisdom has to be dis-
cerned through the creation and in the creation: so it is easy to see
how very necessary is intelligence in the reading of Scripture, where
one goes from word to concept, from concept to fact, from fact to reason,
from reason to truth.103
Rules are necessary for the prOper reading of Scripture. It is a
thick wood in which we need the guidance of the discretion.10u The
fruit of scriptural study is two-fold: it instructs the mind by knowledge
and adorns it by moral training. The teaching has to do with the his-
tory and typology, the moral training has to do with the trOpology.
Though it profits a.man more to be just than to be wise, yet more men
seek wisdom than virtue in their sacred studies. Neither pursuit is

1
05 The Christian

blameworthy: both are needful and to be praised.
philosopher should read Scripture for moral instruction in how to ac-

quire the virtues and avoid the vices. This reading should be directed
to the end of exhortation, and not be an occupation in itself. Reading

must be in moderation, not pursued to excess, as this leads to pride

or even mental collapse. Contemplation is the Christian's goal, and he

 

101
102

II, XIII.
II, XIV.
103v, III.
iohv’ v.
1OSIbId.

xc
cannot hope to read all that is available, nor should he attempt to.106

Single-mindedness is the philosophical principle of the religious
man, His primary function is not to teach but to repent. The example
of his way of life is the best instruction to others. Let him not be
an intellectual busybody. Reading can be his practice, but not his
profession. Instruction, while useful, is for beginners. The religious
man has set out on the way of perfection, and must pass beyond this
stage.107

There are four things with which the life of the just man should
be concerned. These lift him, as though by a flight of stairs, to future
perfection. They are reading (or instruction), meditation, prayer and
work. There follows a fifth, contemplation, a foretaste, in this life,
of the reward of the future life, and at the same time the fruit of the
previous stages of his ascent. Reading is for beginners: the last step,
contemplation, is for the adept. If you read and understand and have
learned what is necessary for you to do, you have made a good beginning,
but you are not yet perfect. You have to apply yourself prayerfully to
good works, for the way to life leads through these. What prayer seeks,
contemplation finds, though in our ascent to knowledge we frequently
have to look back or to retrace our steps.108

Allegorical interpretation is for the mature genius. First the

history has to be known. Scripture is solid food, not able to be

swallowed until it has been chewed. Seek the help of teachers in reading
106v, VII.

107v, VIII.
103v, Ix.

 

xci

Scripture; do not do it on your own. Some books are more profitable
than others for training in allegory. I believe one of the best is
Genesis.109
Natural justice is to be discovered in the tropOIOgical interpre-
tation. From it is derived positive justice, or the control of our own
moral life. By contemplation we know what God did and what we ought to
do ourselves. All nature tells of God, and instructs man. All nature
gives birth to our intelligence: no part of it is sterile.110
A.discussion of meditation has to be passed over for now. The
matters which pertain to reading have been eXpounded as well as possible.
I omit discussing the rest of teaching, that is, meditation, for the
present, since such a special tOpic requires a separate treatise, and
it is better to be completely silent on such a point than to say some-
thing inadequate. The matter is very subtle, yet pleasurable: it
educates beginners, and exercises the adept. Though the mode is un-
familiar, it is all the more deserving of study. Let us ask wisdom to
deign to shed its light Upon our hearts, and illuminate our search.111
Book VIII, which follows, is a treatise on meditation, but is not
a.part of the original work, as its heading indicates. The Didascalicon.
it is plain, orients all learning toward a single end. Though patently
intended for a very preliminary stage of higher education, it surveys

the whole field of education inasfar as what is teachable tends to the

 

109m, N.

llOVI, V.

111VI, XIII.

xcii

religious' final goal of contemplation, and leaves him in a position to
profit by a special training in the moral exercises that will lead him
to the beginning of contemplation.
The Didascalicon is unique for its time. No other such study of
the process of education, its parts and its purposes, existed before
the middle of the 12th century, though similar works were to follow it.112
This work, if it stood alone as from the hands of Hugh of St. Victor,
would merit for its author a.place in the develOpment of scholasticism,113
In passing, let us observe that such after-the-fact judgments as
Coulton's and Rashdall's not only do the Victorines an injustice, but
muddy our own thinking. Viewed retrospectively, it is evident that the
school‘s preoccupation with self—knowledge was not to be the predominant
concern of the philosOphers of the next century; that a.noetic based
upon training the soul for the acquisition of the knowledge God intended
it to have was to yield to an epistemology that questioned the very
validity of a man's mental process. But for its time the Victorine

school was neither advanced nor retarded. At the very time that scholas-

ticism was developing, the Abbey school was at its most influential.

 

112Mignon, op, cit., I, 84,

1Bit is difficult to see why any modern historian, after reading
this, should deny an important place in intellectual history to Hugh,
yet Rashdall in The Universities of EurOpe in the Middle Ages, I, 276,
says the school was

the headquarters of the old tradition of positive theology,
and produced the chief Opponents of the rising dialectical
or ‘scholastic' theology... The school played no part in
the develOpment of the University: it had ceased to exist...
before the first traces of the University organization began
to appear.

Yet, as Rashdall‘s editors admit in a footnote, he "does some injustice
to the place of the Abbey of St. Victor and notably to the work of its
greatest son, Hugh of St. Victor, in the history of scholasticism,"

xciii

It sharpened the thinking process of such men as Peter Lombard, who
borrowed unashamedly from Hugh. It provided Thomas Aquinas with texts
and material for discussion: his references to Hugh and Richard are
not infrequent. It provided men for the administrative and Spiritual
offices of the young University after it was granted its charter by
Philip Augustus in 1200, and almost from its own beginning down to the
French Revolution, it possessed the greatest library in Paris.11u
Educationally, the school's greatest contribution was to formulate
the body of knowledge then available to the Christian scholar, Among
the Victorine writings are to be found works on geography, physics,
mathematics. In the matter of education with which we are concerned,
it is evident, from the close study we have made of the Benjamin Minor,
and the more cursory examination of the Didascalicon, that the pupil's
work exactly served the purpose suggested in his master's prOpaedeutic
treatise: it was a manual of instruction in the means of attaining the
state in which man merits the grace of contemplation. Hugh clearly
indicates the place of contemplation in the educative process of the
religious mind. Richard as clearly shows that he is drawing up a plan
of moral preparation for this state. Considering the historical rela-
tionship between the two men, it is impossible not to conclude that the
Benjamin Minor was intended to serve as a Victorine guide for this
highest level of the educative process, and to lead into the more diffi—
cult and detailed treatise, the Benjgmin ngor, which deals not with
these preparatory steps but with the various levels of the contemplative

experience itself.

 

11”Bonnard, Op. cit., II, 255-256.

xciv

Conclusion

Seen in its historical framework, the Benjamin hinor has proved
to be a work lying near the end of a tradition of allegorical scriptural
exegesis, and crowning that tradition by being the most extensive and
artistically deveIOped of all comparable works. Later writings which
exhibit its considerable influence do so as regards their schematis-
ation and moral counsel, rather than as regards their metaphor. In no
later work I have examined, where the allegorical structure is in
evidence, does it receive so close a working out. With some exceptions,
before the Benjamin Minor there lie works of scriptural exegesis, after
it there lie works of pietistic counsel, while it provides, so to
speak, a watershed between them. Its unique balance of qualities has
its nearest parallel in the Interior Castle of Santa Teresa, though a
different allegory forms the framework there. In both instances, a
mind highly gifted in metaphorical discourse is making use of an extend—
ed allegory as a framework for moral instruction. The parallel is a
good one, for in both instances the same purpose is being subsumed.
A body of instruction is being presented to a highly dedicated reform
group within the church. The Victorines were zealous in the reestablish-

ll”
9 while Santa Teresa was

ment of a strict observance of their rule,
likewise concerned with the purging of the rule of the Carmelite order.
In both instances what was needed was material couched in dramatic and

immediately effective terms, and both writers found allegory served

their purpose. The fact that they used it with aesthetic sensitivity

 

115Bonnard, 0p. cit., I, 11M,

XCV

may be the happy accident of genius. But its uniquely effective use
in these parallel instances may provide a sidelight on what allegory
is best fitted to do. Its mnemonic and dramatic functions are not among
the least of its uses, and the Benjamin Minor is the best example, within

its own category of scriptural exegetical allegory, of the effectiveness

of figurative discourse.

xcvi

BIBLIOGRAPHY

Note: This bibliography is drawn up with the following principle in
view: that only those works be cited which have been directly quoted,
except in the case of reference works. Such a standard omits a great
number of books that have been very valuable as essential background
reading. Among these I would particularly mention Gilson's History
of Christian Philosophy in the middle égfis (New York: Random House,

1955). Which boasts, among its many merits, a large bibliography.

Reference Works
Capelli, Adriano, Eizionario di abbreviature latine ed italiane, 5th ed.
(Milan: Ulrico Hoepli, 195M).

De Ricci, A”, Census of Mediaeval Lanuscripts in the United States and
Canada (New York: H. W. Wilson Company, 19394h0).

Du Cange, Charles Dufresne, Glossaria medias et infimae latinitatis
(Paris, 18MB).

Gore, Charles; Goudge, H. L., Guillaume, A., A New Commentary on Holy
Scripture (New York, 1928).

Harper's Latin Dictionary, ed. Charlton T. Lewis and Charles Short
(New York, 1880).

Souter, Alexander, nglossarygof Later Latin to 600 A.DL (Oxford: the
Clarendon Press, 19h9).

Vacant, A., and Mangenot, E., Dictionnaire de theologie catholique
(Paris, 1903-).

xcvii

Bibles

The HolygBibleL_the Authorized Version, ed. W. A. Wright (Cambridge,
1909). IV. éaaazzana-

The Holy Bible, Authorized Version (Cambridge, n.d.),

Douay-Rheims Bible (Baltimore: John Nurphy Company, lghl).

Manuscripts

MSG Ms 1 Bonaventura, Meditations on the Passion.

Houghton Library Ms Richardson 22, ff 52-68, Tretise pat men callip
Richard of Seynt Victor, in St. Augustinus Neditacions and
Confession in Englysshe. (De Ricci description: vellum, late
XIVth 0., 90 ff. (25 x 17 cm.). English brown calf, ca. 1590,
with crowned Tudor Rose).

 

General Works
Abelard, Peter, Historia calamitatum (Epistola.Prima). PL CLXXVIII,
113-182.
Alanus de Insulis, "Omnis Caro Foenum," PL CCX, 579.

Allen, Hope Emily, English Writings of Richard Rolle¢_Hermit of Hampole
(Oxford: The Clarendon Press, 1931).

St. Ambrose, Liber de Fuga Saeculi, PL XIV, 598.623.
..... — Libri Duo de Jgpob et Vita Beata, ibid., 627-7ou.

St. Augustine, The City of God, tr. Marcus Dodds, the Modern Library
(New York: Random House, 1950).

----- - Confessions. tr. William Watts, the Loeb Library (1931).
-—---— Contra Faustum, PL XLII, 207-518.
------ Epistulae, PL XXIII, xciii, 2h.

St. Bernard, The Steps of Humility, tr. and ed. George Bosworth Burch
(Cambridge, Massachusetts: the Harvard University Press, 1950).

xcviii

St. Bonaventure, Itinerarium Mentis7in Deum, in Qpera Omnia
(Quaracchi, 1901) V, 293~3lo.

 

..---- Meditations on the Passion: see MSC Ms 1.

————— - The Mind's Road to God, ed. George Boas (New York: Liberal
Arts Press, 1953).

..... l The Mystical Vine, tr. A.Friar of S.S.F., Fleur de Lys Series
(London: A. R. Mowbray and Company, Ltd., 1955).

-~--? Meditations on the Life and Passion of Christ, ed. Charlotte
d'Evelyn, EETS, as 158 (London, 1921).

Bonnard, Fourier, Histoire de 1'abbaye royals et de l'ordre des chanoines
rEguliers de Saint-Victor de Paris (Paris, 190M) 2 v.

 

Burghardt, Walter J., S. J., "On Early Christian Exegesis," Theological
Studies XI, 1 (March, 1950), 78-116.

 

Butler, Dom Cuthbert, Western Hysticism, etc., (London, 1922).

Caplan, H., "The Four Senses of Scriptural Interpretation and the Medias-
val Theory of Preaching," Speculum h (1929) 282 ff.

The Castle of Perseverance, in Joseph Quincy Adams, Chief Pre-Shakes~
pearian Dramas (Cambridge, Massachusetts, 1923) pp. 265.281,

Cell of Self Knowledge. Seven Early English Mystical Treatises Printed
by Henry Pepwell in 1521, ed. Edmund G. Gardner, New Mediaeval
Library (London, 1910).

The Cloud of Unknowing, ed. Phyllis Hodgson, EETS as 218 (London: 0x-
ford University Press, l9hh),

Dante Alighieri, Convivio, tr. William Walrond Jackson (Oxford, 1909).

Deonise Hid Divinite and Other Treatises on Contemplative Prayer, ed.
Phyllis Hodgson, EETS as 231 (London: Oxford University Press,

1955).

Denifle, Heinrich Seuse, Die deutschen mystiker des 1M._jahrhunderts
(Freiburg i.d.s., Paulusverlag, 1951).

Gilson, Etienne, The Mystical Theology of St. Bernard (London:
Sheed and Ward, 1955).

Hilton, Walter, The Scale of Perfection, ed. Evelyn Underhill (London:
John M. Watkins, 19kg).

Hrabanus Maurus, Commentariorum in Genesim Libri Quattuor, PL CVII,

M39—670.

 

-—..,...... ...—-

”*fiVF...

xcix

Hugh of St. Victor, De Scripturis et Scriptoribus Sacris Praenotatiun—
culae, PL CLXXV: especially Chap. III et seqq. De Triplici
Intelligentia Sacrae Scriptures.

..... - Eruditionis Didascalicae Libri Septem [the Didascalicon],
PL CLXXVI, 739-838.

 

Isidore of Seville, Differentiarum Libri Duo, PL LXXXIII, 9-97.

icKeon, Richard, Selections from Mediaeval Philosophers, the Modern
Students Library (New York: Charles Scribner's Sons, 1930), 2 v.

Migne, J. P., Patrologiae cursus completus, series graeco-latina (Paris,

1857—66).
~-_-.. Petrologiae cursus completusL series latina (Paris, lSMh—55),

Mignon, A., l'abbe, Les origines de la scolastigue et Hugues de
Saint-Victor (Paris, [1895]), 2 v.

 

Origen, De Principio, PG XII, iv, iii, 1.
--...- In Genesim Homiliae, PG x11, 1h5—262.
Owst, G. R., Pregghing in Mediaeval England (Cambridge, 1926).

Pecock, Reginald, The Donet, ed. Elsie Vaughan Hitchcock, EETS, as 156
(London, 1921).

Philo, Abraham, tr. F. H. Colson and G. H. Whitaker, the Loeb Library
(London: W. Heinemann 1td., 1929-19M2) 9 v. VI, 5-135.

_-_——- On Josgph, VI, 138—271.
--—-- On the Contemplative Life, IX, 112-169.
Raby, F. J. E., ALHistory of Christian Latin Poetry (Oxford, 1927).
Rashdall, Hastings, The Universities of Eurqpe in the Middle Ages,
ed. F. M. Powicke and A. B. Emden (London: the Oxford Univer-
sity Press, 19N2) 3 v.
Richard of St. Victor, Benjamin Minor, PL CXCVI, 1—6u.
Bendamin Major, ibid., 6h.202.
De Quattuor Gradibus Violentiae Charitatis, ibid., 1207—122h,

Rolle, Richard, The English Works of Richard Rolle, ed. Hope Emily
Allen (Oxford: the Clarendon Press, 1931).

 

. --___-, ...

...—.....-»—~

...._._—-__

Smalley, Beryl, The Study of the Bible in the Middle Ages (Oxford: the
Clarendon Press, 19h1).

Smith, James Harry, and Edd Winfield Parks, The Great Critics (New York:
W. W. Norton and Company, 1951).

 

Stone, Darwell, "The Mystical Interpretation of the Old Testament,"
in Gore et al., A.New Commentary on Holy Scripture (New York,
1928).

St. Teresa de Jesus, Castillo Interior 0 Las Moradas (Madrid: Collecibn
Crisol, n.d.).

St. Thomas Aquinas, Summa Theologica, in The Basic Writings of St. Thomas
Aguinas, ed. Anton Pegis (New York: Random House, 19n5) 2 v.

Thomas a Kempis, Of the Imitation of Christ, ed. Frederick W. Farrar
(New York, 1876).

A Treatise Named Benjamin, see The Cell of Self Knowledge.

AITretyse of be Stodye of Wysdome_pat Men Clepen Beniamyn in Deonise
Hid Divinitie and Other Treatises on Contemplative Prayer, q.v.

Tretise_bat men callip_Richard of Seynt Victor in Houghton Library Ms
Richardson 22, q.v.

Walafrid Strabo, Gloss; Ordinaria, PL CXIII.
Wolfson, Harry Austryn, PhilogpFoundgtions of Religious Philosophy

(Cambridge, Massachusetts: Harvard University Press, lghg)
2 v.

ON THE PREPARATION OF THE SOUL FOR CONTEMPLATION

THE BOOK CALLED BENJAMIN MINOR

I. Of the seal for wisdom, and the commendation of it.

There is Benjamin agyouth. in ecstasy of mind (Psalm LXVII, 28).1
Let the young listen to a sermon about a.young man: let them attend
to the voice of the prephet: There is Benjamin aloutLin ecstgsy
9f mind. Many know who that Benjamin is, some by knowledge, others
by experience. Let those who know by doctrine listen patiently: let
those who have been taught by experience listen cheerfully, for I am
confident that anyone who has once learned about him by the discipline
of experience cannot be glutted by a sermon about him, long-winded
though it be. But who is worthy to speak of him? He is the handsomest
of all the sons of Jacob, Just the sort appr0priate for a mother like
Rachel to bring forth. Leah, though she had more sons, could not have
fairer ones.

Now you have read that Jacob is known to have had two wives. One
was celled.Leah, the other Rachel: Leah was the more prolific, Rachel
the more beautiful. Leah was prolific but tender-eyed, Rachel nearly
barren, but distinguished for her loveliness. Now let us see who these

two wives of Jacob are, so we will understand more clearly who their

 

Douay-Rheims version. Where it is necessary to change the trans-
lation of Scripture to accommodate Richard's text, I have indicated my
departure from the Authorized Version, hereafter referred to as AV.

sons are. Rachel is the doctrine of truth, Leah the discipline of
virtue: Rachel is the seal for wisdom, Leah the desire for justice.
We know that Jacob served seven years for Rachel, and that they seemed
just a few days to him because of the greatness of his love. Does this
surprise you? The greatness of his affection was in preportion to the
greatness of her beauty.

While I intend to attempt something in praise of wisdom, whatever
I say will be too little. Now why is wisdom esteemed so ardently, and
possessed with so much joy? Its comeliness exceeds all beauty, its
sweetness all pleasantness. As someone has said, it is more beautiful
than the sun. and its order exceeds that of all the stars: Being com—
pared with the light. she is found before it (wisdom VII, 29). For
night follows upon day, but sinfulness does not overcome wisdom.

Wisdom reacheth from one end to gnother mightily: gnd sweetly doth

 

she order all thiggs, I loved her, he says, 29d sought her out._from
my youth I desired to make her my spouse._and I was a lover of her

begggy. (Wisdom VIII, 1, 2).

Then what wonder is it that Jacob burned with love for such a
bride, or if he was not able to moderate the flames of such a fire, of
so great affection? 0 how much he loved, 0 how he burned with love for
her, who said: I_loved:;isdom_gbove heglth_gnd beguty (Wisdom VII. 10).
For nothing is loved more ardently than this wisdom I speak of; nothing
is sweeter to possess. This, then, is the reason that all men wish to

be wise: but few are able to be entirely so.

II. Of the desire for justice, and its property.

I wonder whether we speak the same way about justice. Do we all

want to be Just also, but are we perhaps not able to be? On the con-
trary, all of us would certainly be capable of it, if we actually
wanted to be Just, for being Just is simply loving Justice completely.
While you can love wisdom very much and not have her, it is absolutely
beyond question that the more you love Justice, the more Just you will
be. Now let us see what are the ordinances of true Justice and we will
find out why men so detest marriage with Leah. The real question is,
why do almost all hate marriage with Leah so greatly, when they long so
much fer the embrace of Rachel? Perfect Justice orders us to love our
enemies as our relations, to give up everything that is our own, to bear
with pamience the evil inflicted on us, always to refuse honors conferred
on us. But how very silly and troublesome it is considered by those who
love this world: That is why such peeple believe Leah to be tender-eyed,
and call her troublesome, for Leah is translated troublesome. Indeed
the trouble is great, but it seems to them a mistake as well, to reJoice
in tribulation and to avoid like the plague the good things of life.

But since she does not reJect the world's goods that are necessary,
though not accepting them for pleasure's sake, they call Leah tender-
eyed, not blind, when they think she errs in Judgment. If therefore
Leah means the desire for Justice, and Rachel the seal for wisdom, it

is obvious both why Leah is almost despised by all, and why Rachel is

so much loved.

III. 0f the double fountain of all good: that is reason and affection.
Now I should like to inquire more diligently about these two wives

of Jacob, and to set forth more plainly whatever the spirit supplies.

1“

A.certadn double faculty is given to every rational soul by that father
of lights from whom cometh every good and perfect gift. One is reason,
the other is affection: reason, by which we discern, affection, by which
we love; reason, directed toward truth, affection, toward virtue. They
are those two sisters promised to the Lord in marriage: Dolls and Ooliba,
Jerusalem and Samaria. They are the twin wives of the spirit of reason,
from which wives a noble prageny is born, and the heirs of the kingdom
of heaven. Right counsels are born of reason, holy desires of affection.
From the former, spiritual perceptions. from the latter, ordered emo-
tions. Finally, all virtue is born of the latter, and all truth of the
former.

You.must know that affection truly begins to be Leah when it busies
itself with conforming to the standard of Justice; and reason is de-
clared to be Rachel beyond all doubt when it is illuminated by the light
of the true highest wisdom. But who is there who does not know how
troublesome the fbrmer is, and how pleasant the latter? Certainly it
is not without great difficulty that the affection of the soul is
restrained from unlawful things and directed toward lawful ones; and
such a.wife is rightly called Leah (that is, troublesome). What indeed
can be sweeter or more pleasant than to lift up the eye of the mind to
the contemplation of the highest wisdom? Accordingly when the reason
is extended to this contemplation, it is deservedly honored by the name
of Rachel. Rachel is interpreted beholdinthhe beginning,or ghggp.

In order that she may be worthy of such a name, let her fulfill what
she finds written: Think of the Lord with a good heart and in simplicity

of heart seek him (Wisdom I, l). Assuredly whoever perceives the Lord

in goodness, the Lord who is the source of all, sees him with the eye
of faith. But she is his sheep indeed if she seeks him in simplicity.
Do you not see that it is not any casual truth, but precisely the high-
est truth specially sought out, that makes her Rachel? I think you
will not wonder, now, that Rachel is so loved, when even her handmaiden
(I speak of the wisdom of the world, which is accounted foolishness in
comparison with her mistress) is sought out with such love by worldly

philosophers, as we see it is.

IV. How the mind is often secretly led to the practice of Justice by
the seal fer wisdom.

The reason why Leah is set aside and Rachel is longed for, is plain
to those who have learned that faith comes not so much by hearing as by
experience. It often happens that the mind is insufficiently cleansed
of the stains of its former way of life, and not yet fit for heavenly
contemplation. For a while it prepares itself for the bed of Rachel:
for a.while it makes itself entirely fit for her embrace; for a while
it thinks it even holds her fast: then all unexpectedly it realizes
it is in the arms of Leah.

What do we mean by Holy Scripture but the bed of Rachel, in which
we are confident that we find divine wisdom hidden under the seemly veil
of allegory? Rachel is sought out in this bed every time a spiritual
meaning is searched for in Holy Scripture. But as long as we are still
unfit to cross the threshold, we do not yet find our desired and dili-
gently sought for Rachel. So we begin to groan and sigh: and we not

only complain of our blindness but even blush for it. Then while we

are grieving and asking how we have deserved this blindness, the evil
we have brought about falls upon us. Is it not, rather, that the very
reading of Scripture often breaks in upon our foulness against our own
will, even when we try to defend ourselves against it, and pricks our
hearts to pay it heed? So as often as we feel this compunction instead
of contemplation during scriptural reading, we may be sure that we have
found Leah, and not Rachel herself, in Rachel's bed. For Just as Rachel's
part is to meditate, to contemplate, to discern, to understand, Just so
it pertains to Leah to weep, to groan, to sorrow, to sigh. For'Leah,

as has been said, is affection inflamed with divine inspiration; Rachel
is reason illuminated by divine revelation. Leah is affection conform-
ing itself to the standard of Justice: Rachel, reason lifting itself
toward the contemplation of heavenly knowledge. But enough about these.

Now let us see about their handmaidens.

V. How imagination is made subJect to reason and sensuality to affection.
Now each of the two has her own handmaiden: affection has sensual-

ity: reason has imagination. Sensuality waits upon affection; imagination

serves reason. Each of the handmaidens is recognized to be necessary

to her mistress to the extent that without them the whole external

world seems unable to bestow anything upon the sisters. For without

imagination the reason would know nothing; without sensuality, the

affection would perceive nothing. Why else does Leah cling so passion-

ately to the love of unstable things, except that she enjoys all sorts

of pleasure in them, through the service of her handmaiden sensuality?

Just as it is written: For the invisible things of God from the creaéion

Q: In. lfiilfi ggg gigggly sggg, being understood by the things that are
mggg,(Romans I, 20). Whence it is plainly evident that the reason would

never attain a conception of invisible things unless its handmaiden
imagination displayed the form of visible things. It rises through the
species of visible things to the idea of invisible things, tracing a
certain similarity between them. But it is certain that without imagi-
nation it would be ignorant of corporeal things; without perception of
them it would not ascend to contemplation of heavenly things.

Only the material sense perceives visible things, while only the
eye of the heart sees the invisible. Thus material sense is entirely
external, while the sense of the heart is entirely internal. Reason is
not able to go outside and physical sense cannot come in to her. In-
deed it is not fitting for a refined, tender girl of distinguished beauty
to run around in public; neither is it becoming for a common servant to
burst in irreverently upon the innermost chambers of his mistress.
Hence the imagination, like a.handmaiden, runs back and forth between
mistress and servant, between reason and sense; and whatever she gathers
up outside from the material sense she displays within as a service to
reason. So imagination always attends reason, nor does she ever with-
draw for a.moment from waiting upon her. Even if sense be lacking, she
herself does not cease her ministering, for when I am in the dark, I
do not see anything, but I can imagine anything to be there that I like.

Hence imagination is forever present, and reason can always make
use of its services. Sensuality is always busily at work in Just the
same way, ever fussing over its task, and ever ready to serve its mis-

tress Leah. It is she who always prepares the carnal pleasure that is

Leah‘s food, and brings it out. and calls her to enjoy it out of season,
and teases her into excess. What else, indeed, is the desire for car-
nal delights that inflames the soul's affection and intoxicates it with
pleasure in thong-what is it but sensuality? It is she who goes before
that "troublesome” mistress of hers when she walks outside, and takes
her hither and thither. For since Leah is "tender-eyed" and sees but
little, it is not unseemly for her to follow the lead of her bondwoman.
This is the reason why Leah. the affection of the mind, loves things
that ought to be despised, and again despises those that ought to be
loved: while her eye is too dim to Judge things rightly, she is not
ashamed to follow the desire of the flesh. Such are the two handmaidens
of Jacob's two wives, whom Scripture calls Zelpha and Bala: Bala the

handmaiden of Rachel, and Zelpha of Leah.

VI. Of the vice of imagination and sensuality.

We know what their service is, and I think I should not pass over
their vice in silence, for Bale is a gossip and Zelpha a drunkard.
Not even her mistress Rachel can control the loquacity of Bala, while
all the winecups of her mistress cannot begin to quench the thirst of
Zelpha. This wine that Zelpha craves is the enJoyment of pleasure,
and the more she drinks of it, the more she craves-«for all the world
is not enough to satisfy the sensual appetite. Since however much she
drinks, she always longs for more, she is rightly called Zelpha, that is,
a.cravin mouth, whose thirst is never quenched. The imagination
clamors so insistently at the ears of the heart, 1ts uproar is so great,

that Hmchel herself, as I said, can control it little or not at all.

This is why, when we sing or pray, we often want to dislodge fancies

or some sort of images from the mind's eye, but are unable to. Since,
then, we suffer inwardly from clamoring thoughts of this kind, we learn
by daily experience the nature and extent of’Balais chattering. Every-
thing we have seen or heard, the things we have ourselves done or said:
she calls them all to mind, and what she has already set forth herself,
she repeats over and over without ceasing. And often, when no permission
of the heart gives assent to hearing her, she still unfolds her tale
though no one is really listening. Thus it is that decrepit old men

or old women set in their ways keep harping on something with no audience
at all, and carry on a conversation Just as if someone were there.

This is why she deserves to be called Bala (set in her ways). But who
does not know about the garrulousness of Bala, and the drunkenness of

Zelphab except someone who is ignorant of his own nature?

VII. What are the principal emotions, and by what ordering or method
they are redirected toward virtue.

Now I want to speak of their sons, and first of the sons of Leah,
for she is said to have had children first. The sons of Jacob and
Leah, as I have said, are only the auctions set in order. If they are
disorderly, they simply cannot be called his sons. Leah had a family
of seven, as there are seven virtues, inasmuch as virtue is simply the
ordered and controlled emotions of the mind. Ordered, that is, when
it is directed where it should be, and controlled when it is Just as
much as it should be. So the principle emotions are seven, arising in

turns from a single affection of the mind. They are hOpe. and fear,

10

Joy and sorrow, hate, love and shame. They can all be either ordered

or unordered, but it is when they are ordered that they are to be con-
sidered as among the sons of Jacob. If fear were not unordered, Holy
Scripture certainly would not say: They trembled with fear where no

fear was (Psalm.XIV, 5).2 On the other hand, if fear were not ordered,
it would not be written: The fog; of the Lord is clean.,enduring,for—
'gzg£_(Psalm.XIx; 9). Again, if love were not sometimes ordered, some—
times unordered, sacred Scripture would not advocate the one and.prohibit
the other, as it says: Thou shglt love the Lord thy God with all thine
he t d with l t soul and with all t mi ht and th nei hbor

as thyself (Deuteronomy VI, 5). And elsewhere: Love not the worlg,
neither the thingg that are in the world (I John II, 15). We must under-
stand the same of the other emotions: sometimes they are ordered and
therefore good: sometimes they are unordered, and therefore bad. As

for the good ones, which we also called the sons of Jacob, let us see

in what ordsr they were engendered.

VIII. How or whence ordered fear arises.

It is written: The fear of the Lgrggés the beginnipggpf wisdom
(Psalm OX1, 10). Therefore it is the firstborn virtue, without which
you.could not have the others. Let him who wishes to have such a son
pay close and frequent attention to the evil that he does, now weighing

the greatness of his sin, and now the power of the Judge. From such

 

gDouay-Rheims version. AV has: Then were they in great fear.
DouayaRheims henceforth referred to as D—R.

ll

consideration there is born fear, that son who is rightly called Reuben,
the son 2f vision. The man who does not fear sinning, who does not
foresee evils to come. who does not blush for his depravity, who does
not tremble at the divine power, is in a sense blind, scarcely able to
see. But if he begins to see these things, he likewise begins to fear,
and the more perfect his recOgnition becomes, the more vehemently does
he fear. I think you can see how Justly he who is born of such sight
is called Reuben. Rightly did his mother cry out when he was born:

The Lord has lgoked gpon my affliction (Genesis XXIX, 32). For then
might she truly begin to see and to be seen, to know God, and to be
known by God: to see God by intuitive knowledge of his fearfulness,

and to be seen by God in respect to her piety.

IX. Row sorrow arises and is set in order.

After the first son was born and was beginning to grow, the second
was born, for there must be great fear if sorrow is to follow. The
more vehemently a man fears the punishment he has deserved, the more
bitterly he laments the wrong he has done. Still we know that at what-
ever hour the sinner is converted and mourns, he is saved: a contrite
ggd a.humbled heggt, O God, thou wilt not degpise (Psalm LI, 1?).3 Do
you not think that this son is rightly called Simeon, or heeding? For
he who is truly sorry, who grieves sincerely, will receive indulgence
without doubt and without delay. The prayer which is offered from a

contrite and humbled heart is swiftly heard. The heart is humbled

 

3AV: g'broken and a contrite heart.

12

through fear, and made contrite through sorrow. It is humbled by Reuben.

bruised by Simeon, and stung to weeping: but Blessed are they who mourn

for they shall be comforted (Matthew v, 1t).

X. Row hope arises and is set in order.

But what consolation can there be for the truly penitent, I ask,
and for the bitterly mourning, unless there is some hope of forgive-
ness? This is the third son of Jacob, who is called Levi, that is,
gddgd, or g; gddition, because he is added to those two who were given
before. Holy Scripture does not call this son ggygp_but gddgd, lest
someone take for granted the hepe of pardon before fear and sorrow appro—
priate to ropentance. For he who sins without making satisfaction and
remains complacent with impunity is not so much raised.up by hope as
he is cast down by presumption. Thus by this name Holy Scripture wishes
to assure us that we cannot have this particular son unless we have the
two others first, nor can this third one be lacking after the preceding
ones. Truly and beyond all doubt, the more frequently, the more
vehemently one is moved with inner sorrow over his guilt, the more
surely, the more composedly he will be touched by the grace of for-
giveness. Agcording to the multitude of my_sorrows within my heart the
comforts hgye deliggted my soul (Psalm XCIV, l9).h This is why the holy
spirit is called the Paraclete, that is the comforter, because it comforts

the soul afflicted with penitential tears, both frequently and freely.

 

h
AV: In the multitude of my thoughts within me thchomforts
delight my soul.

13

For it visits the soul frequently, it comforts it freely, and reshapes
it wholly, ready to have confidence in its own forgiveness. This the
holy spirit does when it considers the soul has condemned its sins by

weeping, and has wept for what should be condemned.

XI. When love arises and is set in order.

Then there begins to be a certain familiarity between God and the
soul, and a swearing of friendship, because the soul is often aware of
being visited by God, and of being not simply consoled, but even at
times filled.with a certain unspeakable Joy. Unless I am mistaken,
Leah had a.presentiment of this pact of friendship when she cried out
with great exultation after the birth of Levi: Now this time will my
husband he Joined unto me (Genesis XXIX, 3h). The true spouse of the
soul is God, who is truly Joined to us when we cling to him with true
love. He truly Joins us to himself when he arouses us, through certain
profound communications. to seek his love, and urges himself insistently
upon us. What heart is there so obdurate or steely that the divine
affection does not soften with its presence and allure with its sweet-
ness? Thence it is that in a little while the heart begins to love
ardently what it used to fear greatly.

Now I think you can see that Just as sorrow has to result from
constantly increasing fear, thus love is born after the birth and con-
stant growth of hepe. Accordingly, this is the fourth in order of the
sons of Jacob, whom Scripture calls Judah or pygggg. If we ask the
reason for this name we can quickly find it: we know that whatever a

man approves he loves, and the more he loves it the more he approves it.

In

What does approving mean except praising? Indeed, indeed, that is

truly pradse, that is pure confession, arising from chaste love, pro-
ceeding from the wonder of praise. Do you want to understand in simpler
terms what is the voice of exultation and confession, more excellent

than all things, which Judah alone knew?

XII. What is the preper character of love.

Listen now to the soul that greatly loves, that burns with excess
of love. Listen to what it feels, to what it says to itself about the
one it loves so much, and at when it marvels greatly. Now what does it
say? What silent words does it speak to itself? "Oh," it says, "how
good, how kind, oh how gentle, how sweet. oh how loveable, how eagerly
to be embraced, how completely admirable. how completely desirable:
Blessed is that one whom he loves: Happy is that one who is Judged
worthy of his love! How fortunate I would be were I permitted to enJoy
him; how happy I would be were it my lot to possess himlf If I am not
mistaken. this is the voice of exultation and acknowledgement that ever
sounds from the mouth of Judah to the ears of divine affection.

What do you say, Leah? What do you cry out over Judah? What
thanks do you render to the Lord? What return do you make for such a
boy? Now she says, I will_greatly;praise the Lord with my mouth.(Psalm
IX, 30). Truly, beyond all doubt, you.praise the Lord not merely often,
but indeed.without ceasing, if you love him with perfect affection.

I will bless the Lord at all times; his praise shall continually be
in gy mouth (Psalm.XXXI, 11). Of course you.praise him ever if you

love him ever and desire him ever, for you would not love him if you

15

did.not approve of him. Now what is meant by approving except praising?
And praise itself is the same as acknowledgement. You surely do not
think that it would have been enough for Judah to have acknowledged him
so much in his heart. unless he had acknowledged him with his mouth as
well. For Judah desires to commend him to others also, and to inflame
them with a love of him when he Judges worthy of all men's love, and
whom he wishes to be loved by all.

All these things have been said of the confession of praise. But
what should we say of the confession of Judgment? Does Judah not know
of this, perhaps. though he is so versed in the other confession? I
do not think so, because I know that both of them contribute greatly
to the honor of God: and I know that the man who truly loves readily
does whatever serves the honor of God. Not only God's liberality great—
ly commends his goodness; our iniquity does also, for if it is a great
thing to lavish favors on those who have deserved nothing, what sort
of treatment is it to reward those who have even deserved punishment?

0 what love, that not even our lack of love is able to overcome! There
are some deeds which he mercifully forgives, others which he abundantly
rewards. He forgives our evil deeds, he lavishes his own good gifts.
He is always waiting to forgive. always ready to be liberal. Now he

is loving. and again generous, and in all cases kind, and ever good.
Therefore let us confess our evil deeds to him; let us confess our good
deeds to him. Let us confess that our evil deeds are our own fault,
that he may forgive them with love; let us confess that our good deeds
are from him, that he may preserve and strengthen them. Judah is con-

stantly busy in these respects, lest he appear ungrateful either for

16

pardon granted or for grace bestowed. So I think it right that this

son should be called.Judah, or gcknowledging, because true love always
acknowledges.5 Finally, since it is written: God is truth (I John V),6
whosoever is ashamed to acknowledge the truth is convicted of not loving
God: for Scripture says: He that is first in his own cguse seemeth
Jgg£.(Proverbs XVIII, 17). Thus the man who believes he loves God, or
desires to do so, has work to do, unless he thinks that loving God and
loving the Justice of God are two different things. See, now we have
discussed the feur sons of Leah. The first is fear of’punishment, the
second sorrow of repentance, the third hope of pardon, the fourth love
of Justice, and then she ceased to bear. For she thinks she can now

be sufficient to herself, since she considers that she truly loves the

true good.

XIII. How the mind is incited to the study of invisible things by a
love of the invisible.

But how do you think the heart of Rachel is stirred, what fires of
longing do you think inflame her, when she sees her sister Leah a.mother
reJoicing in her sons, and herself left sterile? Let us hear what she
says. and understand why she grieves. Now what is she saying to her
husband.Jacob? She says: gigs me children, or else I die (Genesis

XXX, 1). It is certain that if the seal for wisdom does not make progress

 

5Confitens can be acknowledging, confessing, or praising.

This does not correspond closely to any verse in this chapter
in the AV.

17

it quickly falls away. But let us diligently inquire what is the reason
why Rachel, after the birth of Judah, grows more passionately desirous
of offspring than she used to be. I have already said that Just as it
is the part of’Leah, the affection of the soul. to love. so it is the
part of Rachel, the reason, to know. From the former is born every
ordered desire, from the latter, sense er pure intellect.

What else do we understand by Judah than ordered love, heavenly
love. the love of God, the love of the highest good} Once Judah is
born, then, once a fervent desire has arisen for invisible good, Rachel
begins to burn with love for offspring, because she begins to desire to
know. [here love is, there the eye is. We like to look at that which
we greatly love. Doubtless he who can love the invisible immediately
knows what he wishes, and sees it by means of the intelligence, and the
more that Judah (the desire for loving) grows, the more burning is

Rachel's longing for offspringnnthat is, the seal for knowledge.

XIV. What is the first stage of the Journey for one whose goal is con-
tenplaticn of invisible things: that is, the imaginative stage.
lho does not know how difficult it is, how close to impossible, for
the carnal mind, hitherto unskilled in spiritual studies, to rise to
understanding of invisible things, and to fix its eye upon contemplas
tion of them? It has simply not known anything but corporeal things
so far; nothing else has ever come to its attention except only the
visible things it is used to considering. It desires to see invisible
things and nothing comes to it except the forms of the visible: it

desires to understand incorporeal things, and dreams of nothing except

18

images of corporeal things. Then what in the world should it do? Is
it not better for it to ponder on those very things in some way or
other than to consign them to oblivion or neglect? Assuredly, if the
mind is truly loving. it does not easily forget them, and then it is
such more difficult for it to be lifted up to contemplation of them.
Still it does what it can: it understands them as well as it is able.
It thinks by the aid of its imagination, because it is not yet capable
of seeing by the aid of the purity of the intelligence. I believe

this is the reason why Rachel first has children born of her handmaiden
before those she herself bears: it is pleasant to the mind to retain.
through imagination, at least a memory of those things which the intel-
ligence is still unable to grasp through reason. Just as we interpret
Rachel as reason, we interpret her handmaiden as imagination. Therefore
the reason is convinced that it is better to think in some manner or
other about things that are truly good, and to raise the mindbe some
fancied beauty at least) to a desire for those good things, rather than
to fix its attention on false deceiving values. And this is the reason
why Rachel wanted to give her handmaiden to her husband. Everyone,
except some man whom experience may not yet have equipped for this
knowledge. knows that this is the first stage of man's Journey to con-

templation of invisible things.

XV. How sacred Scripture accommodates itself to the speculative thought
of weak men.
Now it should not be overlooked in what fashion Scripture accom-

modates itself to this sort of man and condescends to human infirmity.

19

For it represents invisible things in the forms of visible ones, and
impresses their memories upon our minds through the beauty of some

sort of desirable qualities. This is why they set forth a land flowing
with milk and honey, or mention flowers, or odors, or describe the
harmony of hearenly delights in terms of songs of men or concerts of
birds. Read the Apocalypse of John and you will find the Heavenly
Jerusalem depicted in many places as adorned with gold and silver, with
pearls and all sorts of other precious gems. Of course we know that
none of these things is really there. and yet no sort of thing can
actually be lacking in that place; since nothing of this type is there
in species, but yet everything is there in similitude. In all these
matters Bela is well able to serve her mistress, since she brings before
her upon request a memory of them all. wherever and whenever Rachel
wishes, for we are able to imagine these things instantly when we want
to. The imagination cannot be of more use to the reason than when it

waits upon it with this sort of service.

XVI. That one sort of imagination is bestial. another rational.

Now let me continue what I was saying before about the sons of
Dale. You must know that one kind of imagination is bestial, another
rational. The bestial kind should not be counted among the sons of
Jacob, nor does Rachel ever wish to make it her adeptive son. The
imagination is bestial when we wander lightnindedly over things we here
Just seen or done-uselessly, remote from all deliberate thought. This
is certainly bestial. for even a beast is able to do it. But it is

rational when we devise something imaginatively from what we have learned

through our physical senses. For example: we have seen gold, we have
seen a.house, but we have never seen a gold house. Yet we are able to
imagine a golden house if we wish.

Now certainly a.beast cannot do this; it is only possible for a
rational being. We often use this sort of imagination when we specup
late assiduously on the nature of the good and evil of the life to come.
Nowhere in this life are found good things alone, nor evil things alone,
but good and evil mingled together, and although there are many of each
kind, still they are never found alone. In the life to come good things
are to be found unmixed with evil, and evil things likewise unmixed
with good. In this life we not only do not find them alone, but we do
not find them in their highest degree. We do not doubt that in the
life to come we shall find good and evil, both unmixed and both in the
highest degree. Hence we can often divine from the many good or evil
things we experience in this life by means of our senses, the nature
and degree of the highest good or evil that can exist in the life to
come. From the imaginative recall of such experiences a certain image
of future experiences is devised. It is indeed easy to demonstrate
that such imagination is rational. Clearly it belongs to Bala and to
Rachel. It belongs to Bela inasmuch as it is imagination, and to Rachel
inasmuch as it is rational. Hence this offspring belongs to the imagi-
nation by birth, and to the reason by adoption. One woman thus bears
this offspring, but another rears it: it is born of Bela, to be sure.

but brought up by Rachel.

21

XVII. That when we speak of imagination, reason or will, we understand
these in different senses.

Let it not confuse anyone that I call both mother and child.imgg1-
.ggtigp. I want there to be the same relationship between mother and son
as there is between instrument and act; or the relationship between the
mother and her child is that of genus and species. For genus links
difference to itself and then brings forth species. Just as intercourse
with a.man impregnates a.woman with child. Now we often call by one
name the instrument and the act: for we call 23622 both that which we
see and that by which we see. Thus when reason, or will, or intellect
is named, sometimes the instrument is intended, and sometimes its act.
We know, of course, that the instrument is always prior to its act,
and can exist without it. Hence the act has to arise from the instru»
ment. not the instrument from the act; and so it is not unfitting to
interpret instrument as the mother and act as her son. Thus when
imagination means the instrument, it is also that power of the soul by
which it is able to imagine anything it wishes. When the mind uses
this instrument for imagining something, a.specific act is certainly
performed, which is likewise called imagination. I wanted to note this
briefly, but it is not necessary to linger over it too long. Now let

us return to the course of the argument.

XVIII. Of the twin speculation arising from the imagination.
We have said that only the rational imagination appears to belong
to Rachel, and that which is not rational is Judged utterly unworthy

of being adopted by her. But the rational imagination is one thing

22

when it is set in order by reason, and another when it is mixed with
the understanding. We use the former when we mentally associate anything
with a familiar species of visible obJects, and we do not think of any-
thing invisible in connection with it. But we use the latter when we
strive to ascend to a conception of invisible things through the species
of visible ones. In the former, imagination is not apart from reason:
in the latter, intelligence is not apart from imagination. These are
the two sons of Bale, the elder of whom is called Dan, the younger
Naphtali. Consideration of future evils belongs especially to Dan,
while to Naphtali belongs speculation of future good things. Dan knows
nothing but corporeal things, though he explores even those which are
far removed from the physical senses. Naphtali rises by means of the
form of visible things to understanding of invisible things.

ls know that the torments of hell are far removed from the physical
senses, since we cannot see where, nor what sort, they are, yet as often
as we wish we can have them before the eyes of the heart, through the
ministry of Dan. No believer, reading in Holy Scripture of hell, the
fire of Gehenna, or outer darkness, believes these things are said
figuratively: he does not doubt that they exist someplace in physical
actuality. This is certainly the reason why anyone who places these
things before the eye of the heart by means of imagination does not
immediately seek their meaning in a.spiritual interpretation. because
he is sure that they are intended not so much figuratively as histori—
cally. So we were correct in speaking of consideration as having parti-
cularly to do with.Dan, when we are concerned.with imagination alone,

although we control it, in such matters, with the aid of the reason.

23

Yet what man of good sense would.put a literal interpretation on
such things as a land flowing with milk and honey, the walls of the
Heavenly Jerusalem.with their precious stones, gates of pearl, streets
of gold? He immediately passes on to a spiritual understanding of
these, he inquires what is the mystical sense contained in them. Is
it not apparent how this sort of description of the future has to do
with Haphtali, when the imagination alone, without the understanding to
help it. is clearly inadequate? Hence it is rightly said that consider-
ation of future good things is the special function of Naphtali. Many
things, nevertheless, even those that are written about the torments of
wicked men, are to be received in a mystical sense, and likewise many
statements about the blessings of the future life are to be understood

in the simple sense, although they are described in physical terms.

XIX. Of the first speculation and its preperty.

One thing should be stressed (indeed it cannot be ignored): that
consideration comes more easily to one who is meditating when it remains
in the imagination alone, for the more subtle it is, when mingled only
with the understanding, the more difficult it is to find out. This
is why Dan is born first, and then.Naphtali. But in this double sort
of consideration it is quite remarkable that Dan, by a true imaging
ef'present things, sets forth a fancied image of future things, while
Naphtali often raises the fancied image of the thing described to the
level of true understanding. Nor is it permitted to devise any false
conception of future and invisible good through the spiritual under-

standing, though it is not blameworthy to have an imaginative concept

an

of the sufferings of evil men, quite different from actuality. Is
there anyone who is really able to contemplate those future things

in this life? Every man fashions his own description of them through
the Judgment of his own mind, not as they are, but as he is able to
conceive them. Probably this is the reason why this son is called Dan.
that is, Judgment, because in such reproduction he does not follow the
record of experience, but the Judgment of his own power of discernment.
For since Dan shapes a representation of future things in a.man's mind
by the exercise of his own Judgment, I think one is right in calling

such a.master-workman Dan, in respect of his Judgment.

XX. Of the function of first speculation.

There is another explanation for this name, and to the extent that
it is more subtle it will also be found more useful: for holy men,
whenever they feel battered by shameful thoughts and aroused to unlawful
pleasure, are accustomed at the very approach of temptation to fix their
minds on future torments, and thus to put out the fire of any illicit
suggestion of the mind before unlawful pleasure can touch them. Thus
they instantly take vengeance on themselves for the temptation, and
condemn the soft attractions of sin. Since then, by the services of
Dan, we detect. disclose, condemn and punish alluring thoughts, we
rightly call him Dan, or Judgment. But why do we say so much about
shameful thoughts, seeing that excellent men do not easily detect vain
and useless ones, according to Scripture: Woe to thep_thgt devise in-

iguity (Micah II, 9), and that other text: For the Holy Spirit of

discipline will fly deceit, and remove from thogghts that are without

 

 

25

understandigg (Wisdom I, 5).

What, I ask, happens concerning the things we have some illicit
affection about, when the Holy Spirit removes himself even from thoughts
that are foolish? It often happens when we are occupied with prayer
that we tolerate the presence in our minds of certain fantasies that
urge themselves insistently upon us. But never should we overlook them
and leave them uncondemned. Is it not of great importance to fight
back valiantly, and as I say, to suppress the itch of sin by the imagined
picture of punishment, and to chasten our thoughts? Hence it is written:
Dgp shall Jugge his peonle. as one of the tribes of Israel. (Genesis
XLIX, 16). The teaching of works thus belongs to the sons of Zelpha,
and to the sons of Leah the orderly governance of desires: to the sons
of Rachel the meaning of statements, to the sons of Bala, the guidance
of the thoughts. Any thought is Judged, as it were, in its tribe, when
every error is corrected by its like, when will is emended by will, when
deed is chastened by deed, when statement is corrected by statement.
Every time we feel something false, or desire some inJustice, or do some
disorderly deed, we are aware instantly that we deserve blame. But do
all men likewise think themselves blameworthy when they think useless
or immoderate thoughts? Many men habitually blame themselves for per-
verse or vicious deeds; few there are who condemn themselves for un-
ordered thoughts. But because excellent men do this, these who wish
to be excellent must do it too. Therefore Scripture predicts and com»
mande when it says: Dan shall Judge his peeple1 as one of the tribes

of Israel.

26

XII. Of the usefulness of first speculation.

Now if Dan watches over his peeple with close attention, if he
exercises Judgment diligently, it happens that he is rarely found hav-
ing to Judge other tribes. For the mind that cuts off seductive thoughts
at the very first suggestion of them (as if even that were guilt, which
is restrained before there is consent to wrongdoing) never proceeds to
act upon them. Thus Dan, more than all others, has to be watchful and
attentive in Judgment, so that the other tribes may be suffered to live
fer the most part free of quarreling and dispute. Dan always finds
something to be examined and Justly condemned in his own tribe, while
among other tribes there may possibly be some that are sometimes found
blameless, for their guilt is in the will while his own disorder is
often a,matter of necessity.

I never approve of evil, I never consent to evil, I never perform
evil. unless I myself wish it: but evil can come about through thinking,
even against one's own will. However it is Dan's function to rise up
immediately, to lead evil to Judgment when he has driven it forth by
the power of thought, to suppress it diligently, to condemn it when it
is taken into custody, to cut off deceiving thought from the rest of
the intellect, and to put out the fire of evil inducement by the reminder
of’punishment. I think you can now see how accurately this son is called
Dan, or Judgment, for the purpose of emphasizing that it is his special
function to Judge his peeple, since he alone ought to Judge as assiduous-

ly and strictly as possible. lest others have to do so.

3?

XXII. Of the second speculation, and its property.

But Just as it is the function of Dan to put down rebellious vices
by depicting their punishment, so it belongs to Naphtali to inflame the
heart with longing for the good by the thought of reward. In some
marvelous way Naphtali incites our soul to this longing every time he
sets before the eyes of the mind the image of eternal good. He habit-
ually does so in two ways: sometimes he uses rapture, sometimes com-
parison. He uses comparison when he deduces from the multitude and
magnitude of the good things of the present life the joys of the life
to come, however great or many they may be. For example, by frequent
viewing of the brightness of the sun (that is, corporeal light), he
considers how great will be that spiritual light of the future, if this
corporeal one is so great and wonderful. How great a light do you think
it is that we will share with angels. if this one we share with beasts
is so great: What sort of light will be that future light of the
blessed, if there is now such a light of the miserable:

He also infers the multiplicity of invisible goods from the multi-
tude of visible ones. How great do you think they are? Why, who can
number them! How many are the delights of the eyes, the delights of
the ears and the other senses? How many colors are there. or odors,
or tastes? If the pleasures of bodies are so many, than will the
pleasures of spirits be so many. If we possess such a.number in time,
how many should we expect in eternity? This is the way Naphtali uses
comparison.

is I have said, he also uses rapture when he extends the depiction

of visible things to the meaning of invisible ones. For example, he

28

hears light mentioned in Scripture, as when it is written of God:
Dwelligg in the light which no mgn can flgroach unto (1 Timothy v1, 16).
So he inquires what is this incorporeal light, in which there dwells

the invisible and incorporeal nature of God: he finds that this light

is the very wisdom of God, that it is the true light. Just as this
external light illumines the eyes of the body, so indubitably does the
other illuminate the eyes of the heart. In some such way Naphtali ascends
by means of the quality of visible things to knowledge of invisible
things. INow it is apparent how rightly he is called.Naphtali according
to either interpretation, for‘Naphtali is translated comparison or £237
Igrgign. It is his habit to convert the known nature of visible things
to a.spiritual meaning. Since he examines almost everything that is
written, and converts it into the spiritual meaning, he deserves the
name of conversion; and since he diligently uses comparison, as I have

said, he also deserves the name Naphtali, comparison.

XXIII. What is common or special to the second speculation.

Now it should be known that this kind of contemplation, which is
directed toward.pure intelligence in speculation of the kind that is
designated by the name Naphtali, is recognised to be more excellent
to the degree that it is more subtle. Indeed, speculation of this kind
has a certain unique and very notable quality: for some minds that are
still rustic and.rather unskilled it is both easier to comprehend and
pleasanter to hear, inasmuch as it falls in with a man's own thoughts
quite easily. and sweetly lays hold upon the bearer. It is both clear

and very timely in meditation, and very courteous in discourse. Hence

29

Jacob himself said of Naphtali: Naphtali is a hind let loosepgheggiveth
ggggly_!g§dg (Genesis XLIX, 21).

He is called‘a_higg,because of his facility in running: let loose
because of his avidity for running. The hind is a very swift animal
able to run much. and he who is let loose wants to run much. Unless
I am mistaken, then, it is correct to call Naphtali a hind let loose,
because he is able to run over many things thanks to the grace of con—
templation; and he greatly enjoys running because of the sweetness of
contemplation. So swiftly does this Naphtali (once he is somewhat
practiced in this skill) raise to the heights the contemplative's mind,
or bear it down to the depths. or hurry it along through countless ways:
and the very mind itself which experiences this, taught by such happy
tutelage, often marvels within at the sudtability of calling our Naph.
tali a.hind let loose. Let it be noted how just is the comparison:
not to a bird flying, but to a hind running. For a bird in flight is
hanging far above the earth. but a.hind in his leaping takes off from
the earth. yet even in the midst of his leaps he is not far separated
from the earth. Thus it is that Naphtali, in seeking the nature of the
invisible through the form of the visible, ever leaps but is not able
to fly freely, because in the very gaining of the heights. he carries

with his the shadow of the corporeal, never entirely leaving the depths.

XXIV. How great is the joy of the second speculation.
Such is the meaning of the hind let loose. As for giving goodly
words. perhaps I can demonstrate this better by example. and bring it

closer home to the reader. You desire to hear the goodly words, words

30

of gentleness, full of grace. full of sweetness, such as Naphtali
devises, or is capable of devising: Let him kiss me with the kisses of
his mouth, he says (Song of Songs I, 1). Stay me with flagons. comfort
as with gpples. for I an sick_of love (ibid., 11, 5). Thy lips. 0 my
gpouse, drgp as the honeycomb: honey and milk are under thy tongue;
ggd the smell of thy garments is like the smel;:gf Lebapgn (ibid., IV,
ll). I wonder what would seem sweeter than such words, of what would be
found.pleassnter? What would be heard more eagerly or more gladly than
such utterances? The words themselves seem to have a carnal sound, yet
the things described are spiritual. Naphtali is so adept at mixing the
carnal with the spiritual, and describing the incorporeal by the cor-
poreal, that both natures of man are found in his words. Hence man,
made up of corporeal and incorporeal nature, is marvellously refreshed
thereby.

Perhaps this is why man finds their taste so sweet, because. as
has been said, they somehow refresh both of his natures. However it
is wonderful indeed and to be marvelled at, that his words almost always
persuade more sweetly when nothing seems intended by the literal sense.
As for instance: Eh! hair is as a flock of_ggats. that appear from
Mount Gilead. Thy_teeth are like a flock of sheep that are even shorn.
which came up from the washing (ibid., IV, 2). Ehy nose is as the tower
of Lebanon which looketh toward Damascus.fi Thine head upon thee is like
m (ibid., v11. h. 5). When we hear or read these words. or others
like them. they seem very pleasant: yet in all such passages we find
nothing to be narvelled at if we follow only the literal sense. Yet

maybe this is the reason we comprehend so willingly in statements of

31

this sort: that we are driven to take refuge in a Spiritual meaning

by what Inay call a certain pleasant fatuity of the literal. If we
think, then, of this Naphtali of ours with his aptitude for meditation
and his agreeable mode of discourse, we can come closer to understanding

how rightly Scripture proclaims him Nanhtali a hind let loose; heggiveth

ggodly wgrds.

XXV. Of the twin offspring born of conquered sensuality.

I would like this to suffice for the sons of Dale for the time
being: new it remains for me to say something about the sons of Zelpha.
For when Rachel sees her sister Leah rejoicing in her adaptive offspring,
she too is roused to give over her handmaiden to her husband, that she
too may exult with her sister in the adeption of sons. If, therefore,
~we must understand.Zelpha.to mean sensuality, what other virtuous off-
spring is she able to bring forth, I wonder, unless virtue learn two
things: to live temperately in prosperity, and to have patience in
adversity? These two are Gad and Asher, the two sons of Zelpha: the
rigor of abstinence and the vigor of patience. Gad is born first and
Asher second, for first we have to be temperate about our own good
things and then we here to be strong to endure evils from without.

Such are the twin offspring of the virtues whom Zelpha bore in sorrow,
though to the great hmppiness of her mistress. Surely by abstinence
and patience the flesh is afflicted, but thereby the mind is settled
into great peace and tranquillity. That is the reason why when Gad was
born Leah cried out. saying "ngpilyi". and again when Asher was being

born she exclaimed. saying, ”Tpis is for my hgppiness (Genesis XXX,

32

ll, 13).7 line, she said, not here. For when sensuality is worn away
from the flesh from without, then the affection of the heart is restored

to the integrity of purity.

XXVI. Of the rigor of abstinence, and the vigor of patience, and their
preperties.

How great peace of mind is there, do you think, or how great tran-
quillity, in desiring none of the pleasures of this life and fearing
none of its calamities? One of these states is reached by Gad, the
other attained by Asher. For what pleasure of this life should a man
desire who declines delights through love of abstinence? Or what should
he fear from his enemies in this world, when he is fortified by the
virtue of patience and triumphs even over the evils that are inflicted

upon him? As it is written about the apostles: And they dgparted from

the presgncg 9f the cguncil, rejoicing that they were counted worthy

tg spffeg shame fgr his name (Acts V, M1). and as it is taught by Paul:
Hejgicigg in tribulation (Romans XII, 12).8 Therefore what should im-

 

pair the Joy of one who exults even over the distress inflicted on him
or over any threatening evil? He looks toward the felicity of the mind,
no matter what harshness his flesh endures for the love of God. While
the body is worn away, the conscience is making merry: and the more

miserable he seems externally, the more blessed he remains within.- For

 

7A3: :A trogp comethI and she called his name Gad. And Rachel
said, Hggpz am I.

8AV: Rejoicing in hgpe, patient in tribulation.

33

there are two factors that make up the joy of felicity: to lack the
thing you do not wish to here, and to have the thing you wish, inasmuch
an we say a.man is happy who does not endure anything he does not want
to, and.we Judge a.man to be blessed.who is furnished with what he wants.

Anyone, accordingly, who despises worldly pleasure because of de-
sire for heavenly things, is certainly able ever to turn away his enemy
by abstinence. Hence the rigor of abstinence is rightly called Gad,
or pgppiness, for he always spurns the worldly blandishments which he
despises. .As for the man who loves the affliction of his body for the
sake of the love of God, where, I wonder, will he not be able to find
cause for his attachment? So if he is rightly considered blessed who
finds what he loves everywhere, rightly is the vigor of patience called
Asher, or blessed, for he is confronted in every place by that which
he desires.

Behold two lovers, one of God, the other of the world. The former
loves worldly affliction for the sake of God, the latter desires worldly
abundance of good things. The former can find everywhere that which he
loves for the sake of God, the latter cannot lay hold anywhere on that
abundance of good things he craves.- Which of them is more blessed?
Here are two other men, one of whom hates the adversity of this world,
while the other despises worldly pleasure. But when, I wonder, will
the one be able to overcome his enemy, or the other be unable to spurn

his? Which of them, I ask, is happier? Blessedgis the mgg, says

Scrhpture, that hgth not ggne after gold. nor put his trust in money

 

nor in treggures (Ecclesiaticus XXXI, 8). And again, Blessed is the

man thgg endureth tegptation: for when he is tried. he shall receive

314

the crown of life (James I, 12). These are Gad and Asher, the first
of whom spurns worldly glory, the other patiently bears the distresses
of the world for the sake of God. Indeed it is to be remarked and
profoundly remembered that Holy Scripture desires to call the labor of
abstinence a Joy and not a calamity: and the rigor of patience a bless-
ing and not a.misery. One thing I wish to note briefly is that we
should not think Gad is simply the type of abstinence which has to do
with food and drink. Rather by Gad anthsher we understand abstinence
from every superfluous pleasure, or patience under any sort of bodily
affliction, in all those things which delight or torment the flesh

through the five senses.

XXVII. That the sensual appetite is not controlled unless the wandering
of the imagination is restrained.

But when, I ask, would.Leah hays handed over the handmaiden to her
husband. or have adopted those sons, unless she had been aroused by her
sister's example? It always happens that Rachel's handmaiden is made
subJect to her husband.before the handmaiden of Leah. For if the wander-
ing of the imagination due to idle thoughts is not first suppressed,
it is certain that the immoderate appetite of sensuality will hardly
be tempered. Therefore anyone who wishes to temper his desires for
bodily pleasures should first get used to thinking seldom or never about
carnal delights. Certainly the more rarely you think of such things,
the more rarely and more moderately you will crave them.

I believe this is the reason why Bala is made subject to the husband

before Zelpha, Moreover it is evident that Leah would never have adopted

35

Gad and Asher (abstinence and.patience), unless she had closely scru—
tinised the adaptive progeny of her sister Rachel. Who. indeed, could
ever persuade the affection of the heart to despise worldly success,
and to dread its misfortunes, unless he were forced by the suggestions
of Dan and Naphtali to view the torments of the future life, and its
eternal rewards, not only frequently but even without ceasing? But
through assiduously thinking of future evils he is readily persuaded
to despise present goods. Moreover, through steady contemplation of
eternal felicity he is inflamed to a willing patience over worldly
distress. I believe this is the reason why Dan and Naphtali are born

before Gad and Asher.

XXVIII. How the soul is strengthened for all sorts of obedience through
abstinence and.patience.

After the birth of Gad and Asher, the time comes fer Reuben to
find the mandrakes, if he is not reluctant to go outside. Why should
we doubt his readiness to go out, when we know he is capable of going
out and.in? After the birth of so many sons to his mother, and so many
children to Bala,and to Zelpha, we must believe he is full grown, able
and willing to enter his father's kingdom and come out again. But if
we understand Reuben to be the fear of God, as has been said above,
what should we understand.by his going in and coming out? What does
it mean for him to be inside or outside? Reuben is inside when, in
the secret places of the heart, we tremble for our conscience in the
face of God. Reuben is outside when we subject our own selves to men

in all obedience for the sake of God. Thus fearing God for his own

36

sake is Reuben's lingering within doors; and fearing men for God's sake
is his staying outside.

So Reuben goes out at the time of wheat harvest when, at the com-
mand of obedience, he concerns himself with works of justice. But how,
do you think, would Reuben have the power of perfect obedience unless
Gad and Asher (love of abstinence and of patience) had roused him to
despise pleasure and to endure adversity? For there are two things
which usually hinder the exercise of obedience when it is imperfect:
the dread of giving up what we love, and the dread of enduring hard»
ships. But if once the mind is entirely kindled with love of abstinence
and of’patience, then straightway Reuben submits himself entirely to
obedience, with no gainsaying.

If a man determines to bear adversity as well as to scorn pros-
perity. what difficulty can lessen his obedience thereafter? If I
seek out all sorts of hard and difficult ways of my own accord, for
the sake of the love of God, will I not bear them all the better by
the power of added obedience for the glory of greater merit? Thus it
is rightly said that Reuben goes out after the birth of Gad and Asher,
for the fear of God is strengthened for all sorts of obedience by volun-

tary abstinence and patience.

XXIX. How human praise arises from abstinence, and with what caution
its appetite is to be controlled.
But how much odor of good repute of himself is disseminated by a
man who is not hindered by any modesty or any poverty of spirit, from the

desire for obedience! These are the mandrakes Reuben found, which his

37

mother Leah accepted from him. How else should we interpret mandrakes,
which always disseminate their odor widely, except as the fame of good
‘repute? Leah accepts them when the proferred.praise touches the affec—
tion, when the mind is stirred by public acclaim of its praise, and
takes pleasure in gusts of'perverse pepular favor. Rachel asks for
part of them, Leah grants them that she may have her husband, because
she longs for a.child.

The Holy Spirit does not impregnate with virtuous offspring that
mind.which does not moderate its appetite for vain praise, at the behest
of reason. And thus it is a single spirit which enriches each sister
with fertility, since the same spirit both illumines the reason for
knowledge of truth, and inflames the affection for the love of virtue.
Therefore the reason urges the affection to temper its appetite for
human favor by a rule of moderation, if it wishes to bear children to
the multiplying of virtues, by marriage with the divine spirit. Hence
the possession of the mandrakes is handed over to.Raohel when the apps-
tite for praise is brought under the control of the reason.

Let us note how very temperately.Rachel asks, not for the mandrakes,
but for e part of the mandrakes: this shows that it is very difficult
for the mind not to be happy over praise that is offered, even though
it tries not to be. Thus the love of human praise ought to be moderated
at first: afterward, if possible, it ought even to be cut off deep
within. Hence Rachel is said to ask for part of the mandrakes: after-
wards when Leah is talking to Jacob, she boasts over all of them, not

Just a part. She says: Thou must come in unto me; for sureLy I have

hired thee with my son's mandrakes (Genesis XXX, 16). “With the man-

38

drakes," she says, not "with.part of my son's mandrakes.“ Previously,
when her husband is absent, Leah scarcely grants a share of them, but
when he comes she is more fully aroused.with desire for him, and does
not want to keep any for herself any longer. Thus while the mind of
man is touched by spiritual sweetness, it readily forgets whatever it
formerly desired of human praise. In this manner the mandrakes are pro-
fitably taken from the possession of’Leah and brought under the control
of Rachel. For Rachel knows how to use the mandrakes better than Leah:
whatever the affection of the heart seizes upon for its own praise, the
reason quite preperly diverts to the glory of God. But what are we to
make of the fact that it is Reuben rather than the other sons of Leah

who was able to find the mandrakes of good repute?

XXX. lhence praise usually arises, and how true praise comes from
right will.

Now we know that the works of virtue which nourish other virtues
almost always destroy humility, for the deeds that men do by means of
Gad and.tsher appear remarkable to others: these are the works of abstin»
ence and.patience, that render the deer not timid but puffed-up9 and make
him not so much humble as insolent. What is more remarkable, or more
to be signalised by praise than this: that often, when other sorts of
fear have been put down, the reverential fear of God is not lessened,

but increased? Hence, since we usually praise the ordinary man whom

 

919:1 timidum sed tumidum.

39

we see tremble inordinately over small offences toward God or indeed
toward man, even when he has done virtuously, Reuben is correctly said
to have found the mandrakes after the birth of Gad and Asher. We are
shared when somebody who has wrought distinguished work proceeds to
pride rather than to reverence}o

It should certain be noted that these mandrakes of which we spoke
are said to have been found not after the birth of so many sons of
Leah, nor after the birth of the twin children of Bela, but right after
the birth of the sons of Zelpha. How can we wonder at desires or thoughts,
however right, however useful they may be: or when shall we praise what
we certainly cannot see? And although true praise comes of right will,
we still do not praise it unless it is made evident in right action, for
good will is made evident in good works, that Reuben may Justly be able
to win the predse that depends upon good reputation, like those men-
drakes that cast their fragrance abroad. Therefore it is after the
birth of Zelphs‘s offspring that the son of’Leah is believed to have
found the mandrakes, when good will, made manifest in good works, is

widely honored with admiring commendation of praise.

XIII. How the discipline of the heart, and that of the body as well,
are fortified by these virtues.
That is the reason why we must not pass negligently over the sons
of these two handmaidens, but be mindful of the pair of them: because

it is by their watchfulness and through the protection of their watching

 

loAd tumorem non ad timorem.

that the city of our consciousness is marvellously kept, and greatly
benefitted. The firstborn of Bale rules it within: while the firstborn
of Zelpha defends it without. Through.Dan are fought down the evils
that rise up within: through Gad are thrown back the evils that attack
from without. We are all aware that every temptation arises either from
without or from within: from within, through thought: from without,
through sense. Sometimes it batters within, through thought: sometimes
it makes ready to burst in from outside, through sense.

Truly the enemy is wont to furnish the counsel of error within,
and again to urge the incitements of pleasure without. But since the
discipline of the thoughts belongs to Dan, and the discipline of the
senses depends on Gad, Dan has to attend to the Judgment of discretion
and Gad to struggle bravely for the exercise of abstinence. It is for
the one to quell civil discord: it is for the other to fight back hostile
attack. The former guards against betrayal by the townspeople, the latter
against incursion by the enemy. The one guards against perfidy, the
other against violence. If Dan is negligent, the mind is easily de—
ceived: if Gad is slothful, it is suddenly captured by shameful delight.
But what difference does it make whether the city of our heart is
destroyed by force or by fraud: whether civil discord overthrows it,

or the hand of the enemy?

XXIII. That discipline of the thoughts cannot be maintained without
discipline of the senses.
It is important to realise that discipline of the body is quite

useless without discipline of the heart: indeed, discipline of the

 

hl

thoughts cannot be maintained at all without discipline of the senses.
Hence it is clear that without the aid of Gad, whose function it is to
watch over exterior defense, Dan labors within the walls in vein, in
establishing peace among the citizens. When Dan is Judging his peeple,
what good does it do continually to remove the cause of discord, unless
Gad is careful not to admit, through the gates of the senses, the provo-
cations of vice, like some hostile army? For although Dan sit cease—
lessly'upon the throne of Judgment, although he unendingly compose the
quarrels of conflicting thoughts, it is indeed useless for him to labor
over settling discord between the citizens unless Gad, with the same
seal, protects our city by discipline of the senses, and launches the
attack of abstinence against the hostile battle—line of the vices.
Hence it is written: gag, being girded, shall fight before him (Genesis
an, 19) .11

Then it is to some effect that Dan watches out for the perfidy of
traitors within the walls, while Gad, outside, keeps away the invading
army and drives it back. Gad is first girded that he may than fight
bravely. Gad is girded at the time that the laxness of the senses is
made taut by discipline. Gad gives battle bravely at the time that he
slaughters carnal desires by the mortification of the flesh: for a great
massacre of the enemy is accomplished, and that hateful army of the
vices is put to flight at once when the physical sense is held back by

discipline from overreaching itself, and the lust of the flesh is

 

1
1AV: GadI a trogp shall overcome him; but he shell overcome
at the last.

 

 

1:2

restrained from pleasure by abstinence. In this way, as we can all
discover for ourselves, Dan governs our city from within, Gad.protects

it fros.without.

111111. How the above virtues work tagether in guarding the heart.

Also their brothers help them, and are not slow in bringing aid:
Naphtali within, maintaining civil peace with Dan, Asher outside with
Gad, cosbatting the violence of the enemy. So Gad and Asher watch out
for the enemy: Dan and.Haphtali care for the citizens. Here Dan threat-
ens: there Naphtali coaxes. Dan frightens with threats, Naphtali
cossets with.promises. This one punishes the evil, that one rewards
the good. One terrifiee the heart with the terror of Gehenna. the other
softens the spirits with hope of eternal felicity. How much help do
you think that Naphtali, givigg gpodly words, can bring to his brother
in these affairs? Haphtali inclines the spirits of his hearers with the
sweetness of his words, bending them almost instantly wherever he wishes.
Asher too brings equal aid to his brother on the outside, and both
defend the city against hostile attack. This one protects one side,
that one defends the other. Gad fights upon the right, Asher contends
upon the left. Gad sets an ambush: that is, worldly prosperity: Asher
hunts down the enemy: that is, he is worldly adversity. But Asher
easily makes game of his enemy: when he has seen part of the fight he
surveys the defense from the high rock of patience, and acorns and
despises his enemies vainly milling about below his safe point of vantage.

The result is that his enemies do not so much trouble him with

their attack as constantly furnish the very material of his triumph.

   

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This is the reason why once his own attackers are scattered (that is,
worldly adversities), he turns all his force against the pursuers of
his brother (that is, carnal delights), and pursues them with great
punishment. So great a terror suddenly overwhelms the attackers of
Gad, when they see.Asher Join in the fight against them, that they all
turn instantly to flight, since they dare not stand out, not even for
a while, against those who bring their brothers aid. The true enemies
of the soul are carnal delights. But what place is there left for
vicious delight among torments, which this brave Asher of ours shows
he can not only bear patiently but even seek ardently, for the love of
God? 0 how truly he is called Asher, blessed, in accordance with that
saying of the Lord, blessed are they;which are:persecuted for righteous-

ness' s 1 (Matthew V, lo).

XXXIV. How mercy always accompanies perfect patience.

Who can fulfill so magnificently that precept of the Lord: Forgive,
53d ye 'Blll be forgiven? (Luke VI. 37). Who is able so easily, so
heartily, to pardon injuries done to him, as the man who has learned
rather to revel in his physical anguish than to sorrow for it? Why
should he not love his enemies, why should he not freely yield to them,
when they bring upon him what he wishes? And so he has more mercy fer

his persecutors than for his body, that he may be blessed over and over,

for blessed gas the merciful, for they shall obtain mercy (Matthew V, 7).

 

0 glorious man. 0 thrice and four times blessed! Blessed because
of his hunger for righteousness: blessed because of his voluntary suf-

fering: blessed because of his feeling of mercy. Just as those are

blessed.who hunger and thirst after righteousness, just as those are
blessed who suffer persecution for its own sake, so none the less are
the meek blessed, and the merciful, And this Asher of ours, that he
may be truly and manywise blessed, thirsts after righteousness, suffers
voluntarily for its sake: and knowing no anger, is easily moved to mercy.
Although he is very hungry for the bread of righteousness he yet does
not deign to eat it unless it is sprinkled with the oil of mercy. For
free the great abundance of riches with which he is endowed, from the
spoils of the enemies he has conquered in many wars, there is a greatly
pleasing result: no bread tastes good to him, however light and fine
it be, unless it be sprinkled with oil, so that it may declare clearly
the truth of Scripture: égher, his bread shgll be fat (Genesis XLIX,
20). lbs do you think is so rich in good things as the man who has
reason to sing: I have rejoiced in the way of thy testimonies_gg much

g; in all riches? (Psalm OXIX, 1h),

111'. The connendation of’perfect patience,

How rich do you think our Asher is in treasures of spiritual con-
solations, how abounding in the delights of spiritual Joys? Adversity
of whatever kind usually increases his treasures rather than decreasing
them, nor can any sort of torment alter his delights at all. For the
harder he is pressed from without, the more Joyously he glories within.
I say that not merely the poor and mean, but even kings and princes,
crave such delights as these and accept them thankfully. If I am not
mistaken, Scripture itself speaks thus of them: Asher, his bread shgll

12
be fat, and he shall yieldgdginties to princes.

1‘5

How sweetly are they fed, how marvellously are they entertained,
do you think? These are not Just any kings at all, but those true kings
to whom the King of Kings and Lord of Lords delivered up the command
of his own body, and among whom he divided the kingdom of his own father,
How sweet it tastes to princes like these, I say, how secret is the
good savor, when they see a man fearing no torments because of his love
of Justice, and losing none of his peace of heart and tranquillity of
mind in the midst of pursuers! If there is really Joy in heaven over
one sinner that rgpenteth (Luke XV, 7), how much celebration will there
be over any righteous man who gladly dies for righteousness?

0 what bread is this bread of his! 0 what dainties are these
dainties of his that have such savor for such.princes! Surely these
princes have gone in now to the marriage feast of the Lamb, now they
have taken their places at that eternal banquet, now they are feasting
on that bread of angels, eternal dainties, and now on pleasure freely
poured forth are they drunken: and still they hunger insatiably for
the dainties of Asher; they hunger to this day, and thirst after right-
eousness, nor are they able to sate their hunger and thirst among so
great an abundance of heavenly Joys.

Asher, his bread shall be fat, and he shall yield dainties to
princes. How munificent do you think such a one can be in regard to the
necessities of the poor, when he has an oversupply for'preparing dainties
for princes? How much do they marvel or how much rejoice in his faithful-

ness, those whom their weakness crushes during life in the vale of tears:

 

IZAY: Bezel dainties.

R6

.of those when that eternal felicity enfolds are so joyful over his
achievements? Asher, his bread shall be fat, and he shall yield dainties
to princes. And whence such an abundance of riches, such a supply of
dednties, unless, as has been said, from the spoils of the enemy in so
frequent victories? For it is certain that the more the enemies of
righteousness are destroyed, the more abundantly do the Joys of con-
science accumulate: glory and weglth shall be in his house, says the
Psalmist (Psalm 6111, 3). And the Apostle speaks thus of that glory
and wealth, as if erpounding the passage: For ourflglorXIB is thisL_the
testiaog; 2f gur conscience (II Corinthians, I, 12). This is the home,
or city, that is our conscience, in which abound the riches of spiritual
good, when the sons of those aforementioned handmaidens guard it with
solicitude: Dan and Naphtali busied with maintaining civil peace, Gad
and Asher bravely engaged in fighting off the enemy, for by their
prudence the townsmen are pacified, by their constancy the enemies are

repelled.

XXXVI. flow, or in what order, true Joy arises.
Once the enemy is put to flight and the citizens are pacified, I
think nothing prevents our city from experiencing that peace of God,

which.pggseth fill understanding_(Philippians IV, 7), or How ggeat is
the multitude of thy_sweetness...which the Lord has hidden for them

 

lh
t t 1 v him! (Psalm XXXI, 20). Has hidden, it says. What wonder

 

13
AN: Rejoicing.
1h
AN: Oh how great is thy goodness. which thou hast laid up_for
them that fear thee.

h?

is it, then, if the ordinary lover of the world does not know about this
sweetness that God has hidden even from those who love him? Men who
place their hopes in false and deceiving good are not able to find out
what true good is: hence it is that they say, Who will show us any good?
(Psalm IV, 6). Fbr it is a.manna that is hidden away, altogether unknown
except to those who taste it. It is a sweetness of this sort: of the
heart, not of the flesh; hence the ordinary carnal man cannot know it.
Thou hast pgt gladness in my heart, says the Psalmist (ibid., 7),
Physical delights, Just like the body itself, can be seen by the eye

of the body; delights of the heart, like the heart itself, cannot be
seen by the eye of the flesh. By what means could a man know spiritual
delights, unless he openly enter into his own heart and dwell within

it? Hence it is said to him: Enter then into the_joys of thy lord
(Matthew XXV, 21).

This internal Joy, then, is for the spiritual alone; that sweet—
ness which is felt within is that son of Leah who is fifth in order of
birth; for Joy, as I have already said. is one of the chief emotions.
When this is set in order, it can rightly be numbered among the sons
of’Jacob and Leah. We have a true ordered Joy indeed when we rejoice
over true interior good. The Apostle wished to reuse us up to desire
for such an offspring when he said: Rejoice in the Lord alway, and again
I mg, Rejoice (Philippians Iv, h). And the Prophet: Rejoice in the

Lord pad exultI 0 ye Just: and glogy, all ye who gre upright (Psalm
XXIII, 11).15

 

 

15AV: Be glad in the Lord, and rejoice._ye righteous: gnd shout
for Joy, all ye that are ppright in heart.

RS

Leah willingly despised the mandrakes for such a child, that she
might be able to have such a son. And indeed the mind.which is pleased
by the praise of men does not deserve to know what interior joy is. It
is right that Leah should bear this son after the birth of Gad and Asher,
because the human mind does not attain true joy except by abstinence and
patience. So it is necessary for the man who wishes to rejoice in the
truth to put avay both false delight and vain perturbation. He who has
been enjoying contemptible things is certainly unworthy of interior
enjoyment and he who is perturbed by vain fear cannot relish spiritual
swes toss a .

Truth condemned false hope when she said: Woe togyou who_l§ugh
2g!_(Luke VI, 25). She rooted out vain perturbation when she warned her
hearers: 19;; not them which kill the body. but g£g_got gble to kill
the soul (Matthew X, 28). We overcome the one by abstinence, we spurn
the other by patience. Thus false delight is rooted out by Gad, vain
perturbation by Asher. Such are Gad and Asher, who shut out false joy
and lead in true joy. Henceforward I think there will be no Question
why this son is called Issachar, if Issachar is interpreted £21359,

What other thing do we seek'with such great and constant trouble? What
but true joy do we await with such enduring patience? We receive a
certain first-fruits or a sort of earnest of this reward every time we

enter in to that interior joy of our Lord, and taste of it.

XXXVII. Comparison of interior and exterior sweetness.
Holy Scripture sometimes calls the sampling of this interior sweetness

taste, sometimes intoxication, accordingly as it is small, or seems large:

'49

small indeed in comparison with future plenitude, but large in compari-
son with any worldly enjoyment. For the present delectation of spiritual
men, compared with the joys of the future life, is seen to be small,
however greatly it be growing, yet in comparison with it, any agree-
ableness of exterior delights is nothing at all. 0 marvellous sweetness,
sweetness so great, sweetness so small! How should you not be great,
since you exceed all worldly good? How should you.not be small, since
you gather scarcely a droplet of that plenitude! You infuse into the
mind a tiny draplet of that vast sea of felicity, and the mind wherein
you mingle it, you.nake drunken altogether.

Such a little drop from so great a sea is deservedly called a taste;
and no less deservedly is that called iptoxiggtion which drives the mind
out of itself. Hence it is a taste, and can rightly be called intoxi-
cation: 0 tggte, ggd see that the Lord is ggod, says the Prophet (Psalm
XXXIV, 8). And the Apostle Peter: If so be you hgve tggted thgt the
Lord is sweet (I Peter II, 3),16 And the same prophet says of intoxi-
cation: Thou.visitest the egrth.ggpd wgterest it (Psalm.LXV, 9).17
Listen to a man wet with this intoxication, entirely oblivious of what
is going on around him: ‘flhggher in the body, I cannot tell; or whether
out of the bo_d_yI I cannot tell: God knoweth (II Corinthians III, 2).

How was he drunken with this drunkenness, do you think, or oblivious

of the world, if he knew not himself?

XXXVIII. What usually hinders that interior joy.

l6AV: Gracious .
1?

 

Inebriggti cam.

Those who are used to being tossed on the waves of carnal desires
certainly do not deserve to be intoxicated with this sweetness: the
Psalmist says: Thou visitest the earth and waterest it. Why do you
think the Lord is said to have "watered" only the earth, and not the
sea also? But we know that the mind, tossing restlessly with various
desires, long agitated by the gals of worldly cares, is not admitted
to that interior joy, and does not drink at that gushing stream of
pleasure. How much the less, than, is it intoxicated.with it! We know
that the sea always changes, while the land remains the same forever.
Likewise the other elements are always in motion, and though the earth
abides, the others are unable to. So what are we to understand by EEEEE
except the fixed abiding of the heart? Hence one should restrain the
restless tossing of the heart, and fix the motion of his thoughts and
affections upon the desire of one true joy, if he desires to be intoxi-
cated with that draught of true sobriety, or believes this to be possible.

This is truly the blessed land: the tranquil stability of the mind,
when the mind is quite withdrawn into itself, and immovably fixed on the
desire of eternity alone. This is the land that Truth.promised when she

said: Blggsed eye the meek; fgr they shall inherit the earth (Matthew
V, M). This is the land of which the Psalmist gave warning even while

 

 

he was promising it, and.promised it even while he was warning about it:
Inhabit the land, and feed upon its abundance (Psalm.XXXVII, 11).18 This

is the land that Issachar, the strong ass, saw and coveted, and he burned

 

18AV: But the meek shall inherit the earth. and shall delight

themselves in abundgnce of_peace.

51

amasingly with desire for it: Issachar, says Scripture, isgggstrong

ass lying down between the borders.19 And he saw thgt rest was good,

and the land that it was excellent?0 And he bowed his shoulder to bear,
99d became a servant unto tribute (Genesis XLIX, 1h, 15). Hence we must
travel from land to land: from a foreign land to our own land, from
exile to our native country, from one nation to another, from one kingdom
to another people, from the land of the dying to the land of the living,
if we wish to know by experience true interior joy. May we too aspire
after that land that Issachar saw and aspired after, for if he had not
seen he would not have known; and if he had not known he would not have

aspired.

XXXIX. How interior sweetness is accustomed both to strengthen the mind
against accident and to incline it to humble things.

Being made an ass for the sake of this land, and having grown strong,
he has willingly bowed his shoulder to bear, and has become a servant unto
tribute. All at once he abased himself greatly, in becoming an ass, for
an ass is considered contemptible beyond almost any other beast. He
longed greatly for the land he saw, and for its sake he became strong
enough for any labor, and endured. Indeed, he saw that compared to the
beauty of that land.§l;;9ur righteousnesses are as the rag of a men-

21
struous wom§g_(Isaiah.LXIV, 6). He also saw that gll the sufferings

 

19m Two burdens .

20“: Pleasant .

21
AV: Filt r s.

52

of this present timeggre not worthy to be compared with thegglory which
£2911 be revealed in_pg_ (Romans VIII, 18). In one regard, he made
himself base, and in the other strong: humbled as regards the one,
strengthened as regards the other; he willingly bowed the shoulder of
his strength to all labor, and rendered worthy tribute to the true king
by acquiring divine glory and not his own.

If’you.wish to hear, there was another who humbled himself for a
similar reason, and thought himself likewise fit for any labor: I_ygg
g'beast‘before theeggggys the Psglmist (Psalm LXXIII, 22): and elsewhere:
For thy sake we are killed all thefldgy long (Psalm XLIV, 22). See how
base, see how strong: base as a beast, strong for offering himself up
for death. Issachar is a strong ass lying down between the borders.

He saw that rest was good, and the land that it was excellent. He who
lay down between the borders had almost, but not entirely, deserted

this land of the dying: almost, but not entirely, laid hold on that

land of the living. Since he was content with a.very few and very mean
worldly goods, he held on to the very verges of this land of misery.
Since he had a foretaste of the good things of eternal life through
frequent ecstasies of mind, he touched the beginning of that happy land.
Issachar is a strong ass, lying down between the borders, because he did
not scorn the necessity of this life that makes for good; he did not
entirely desert this land, because he was able to lay hold only on
certain outermost parts of the future life. He did not grasp it entirely,
and actually lived "between the borders." He endured the one land for
the sake of necessity, he yearned for the other for the sake of joy, and

hence lay down between the borders. He struggled to abandon the one, and

‘ 53

could not: he searched for a way to enter the other and was not able.
So he did what he could: he lay down between the borders.

Daily he strove to reach the one, daily he fell back upon the other,
and in this way he lingered between the borders. Issachar, a strong
ass lying down between the borders saw rest that it was good, and the
land that it was excellent. What wonder is it that he saw it, since he
lay down on its border? I say what wonder is it, that he saw, that he
knew the sight, that he desired the knowledge? On that account he
bowed his shoulder to bear, and became a servant unto tribute. It says
that he saw rest that it was good: for rest is there, and a good rest.
If it were not there, he would hardly have seen it. And if it were not
good he would hardly have bowed his should to bear for its sake: 3333
the meek shall inherit the earth_§nd shall delight themselves in the
abundance of peace, it says (Psalm XXXVII, 11). See what sort of land
it is! Peace is there, rest is there. Entire peace, good rest: quiet
peace, peaceful quiet. He saw rest that it was good and the land that
it was excellent. There is no labor in that land, but without labor
one cannot reach it. One labors for its sake, but one does not labor
in it. True peace is not found outside this land: no labor at all is
found in this land.

There are two things: the land, and rest. Two against two: two
good against two evil. There are two great evils: misery and covetous—
ness, that is, the punishment and the sin. There are two great goods:
tranquillity and stability: tranquillity of the mind against misery,
stability of the heart against covetousness. To feel no distress is to

rest well. To be tossed by no waves of covetousness is, beyond doubt,

5h

to linger in that land already. Such rest is there, in such a land!
The mind not yet quite attuned to interior joy hardly feels what true
rest is.

O unhappy me! Even now I live a wanderer and a fugitive through-
out the land: a.wanderer in following after evil desire, a fugitive in
evading misery. 'What I crave is forever absent, but I find in every
place that which I am fleeing. Evil desire makes me a wanderer, misery
makes me a fugitive. Assuredly it is an evil land, a land of misery,
this land in which I live in this manner: a land of misery and shadows,
where is the shadow of death, and no order. Doubtless such a land is
not stability of heart but hardness and insensitivity of mind: but

Thy ggod gpirit shall lead me into the right land (Psalm CXLIII, lO).22

Such, then, is the land that Issachar saw, and craved, because true

 

rest is there, and that land is excellent. How happy he was in being
able, even momently, to ferget all ills, and to achieve that interior
peace or rest, even to a slight extent! How happy as well in being
granted the power to gather up the fragments of his heart, and to fix
his desire upon that fountain of true joy! The one is good indeed, but
the other is excellent. Accordingly Issachar saw that rest was good,
and the land that it was excellent. For it is good to be far off from
all evil, but it is far better, indeed the most excellent of all, to
cling to the highest good. Issachar knew this, and on this account he
was unwilling to depart far from that land, but couched between the

borders and remained in its neighborhood, desiring and striving to touch

 

22
AF: Lead me into the land of Eprightness.

55

it even in rare ecstasies of mind, hastily and furtively--but still to
eat often of the fruit of that land.

For there is, you must know, a sublime fruit of that land, a mar.
vellous fruit, a singular fruit. If only the human mind is satisfied
frequently with the fruit of this land, and sometimes fattened upon
it, the mind suddenly acquires, in some marvellous way, fortitude against
all perils, so much so that it directly grows strong in its hatred of
all vices, so that it is no longer able to harbor them voluntarily,
without desiring to hunt them down manfully, even when they are present

in others, and to smite them with strong chastisement.

XL. How or in what order the hatred of vices arises in us.

So let it directly be as strong against all danger as is a fierce
enemy of all vices. Hence it is that after Issachar Zebulun is born,
which is interpreted the dwellinggplace of fortitude, for what do we
understand by Zebulun but the hatred of vices? A.good hatred, an
ordered hatred, is this hatred of vices. No doubt it was this emotion
that the Prophet wished to set in order when he said: Be ye angry,
and sin not (Psalm IV, 5).23 What does it mean to sin not when you are
angry, and to be angry without sinning? Does it not mean becoming
outraged at men's vices while loving men themselves to their true bene-
fit and.not just to their faces? The Prophet meant he had this same
hatred when he said elsewhere: Do I not hate themI O LordI that hate

thee? (Psalm CXXXIX, 21)? And elsewhere: I hate every false wgy (Psalm

 

23
AV: Stggd in eye, and sin not.

56

CXIX, 128). This is that extraordinary soldier of God, who does not
cease to wage the warfare of the Lord, and whom Holy Scripture custom-

arily calls the seal of the Lord or the zeal of righteousness: The zeal

 

of thy ggusg, Lord, hath eaten me pp, and the reprogches of them that
ggprggghgg tag: age fgllen Egon me (Psalm LIX, 9). And again: My zeal

hath cgggglld mg; bgcgusg mine enemies have forgotten thy words (Psalm
CXIX, 139). And Elijah says: With geal have I been zealous for the

 

9259 (III Kings XIX, 10) 2h And Phinehas contended zealously for his
God, and received the covenant of his priesthood forever (Numbers XXV).
But whence, do you think, is this great fortitude, or such wonder-
ful constancy? Elijah arose alone against one hundred and fifty pro-
phete of Baal, Phinehas burst forth alone against the camp of the
Midianites and transfixed the adulterers with a sword. See what power
they receive, see how strong they become, who eat of the fruits of this
land I have described, and are refreshed by interior sweetness. Hence
it is correct that after Issachar, which is interpreted.£g!§£g, there
should be born Zebulun, that is the dwellingfiplace of fortitude, since
after the delicious savor of eternal reward has been tasted, the mind
is wonderfully strengthened with argument against temptation, and sud-
denly setting its own danger at small account, bravely avenges the
injuries of the Lord. This is the reason why Moses, the meekest man
of all who dwelt on earth, suddenly burned with such seal against the
makers or worshippers of the idol (after he had fasted forty days, and

been fed with a.marvellous sufficiency of spiritual delights), that he

 

21;“ has no III Kings: 11 King! X. 15: S“ ”W ““1 f" “Lyra“

57

instantly took as allies those who were on the Lord's side, passed through
the midst of the camps fighting his way from one gate to the other, and
laid low three thousand unfaithful men (Exodus XXXII). So it is that
Zebulun is born after Issachar: through the taste of interior sweet—
ness, there arises a hatred of vices, and there is acquired the power

of true fear. This is Zebulun, who, in becoming angry, usually appeases
the wrath of God; in becoming angry and in raging with a godly rage

when he cuts away the vices of men, spares them all the better for not
sparing then. Doubtless there is nothing so pleasing to God, nothing

at all, as spiritual seal.

ILI. How it is rare to have a seal for righteousness based on a true
hatred of vices.

0 how eany people, by the grace of God, conceive many mental off;
spring of other virtues, and bring them to birth, who still are not
able to hare this particular son! How many do we see today, poor in
spirit, rejoicing in hope, fervent in charity, abstaining much, altogether
patient, yet too lukewarm of spirit, and extremely torpid! Some, as
though under the restraint of humility, do not presume to rebuke offend~
ere: others, lest they seem to disturb brotherly love, fear to denounce
sinners. Likewise others, in other fashions, imagine it to be virtuous,
or believe it is a virtue, to be unwilling to be sealous for the Lord.
On the other hand, many who doubtless act in a spirit of rage think they
act in a seal for righteousness, and think, or pretend to think, that
the actions they really perform out of hatred for men are done out of

hatred for vices. But let the sort of men who believe they can give

58

birth to Zebulun themselves, let them, I say, ponder whether they truly
love (as it were at the urging of Zebulun) to the same degree that they
punish with severity. Perhaps they are still scarcely able to experi-
ence those spiritual delights to which they wish to appear to invite,
with their lashing and scolding, those whom they denounce or scourge! For
those who know by experience the interior joys which they invite others
to abandon so many sorrows and seek, should believe that offenders can
be reached by piety better than by cruelty.

we read that Leah gave birth to Judah and Issachar before Zebulun:
and we have already said that Judah signifies charity, and Issachar the
experience of spiritual joys. It is necessary for Judah and Issachar
to be born first, since the mind that has already experienced charity
and interior sweetness is hardly able, in its zeal, to preserve the
pattern of righteousness. For charity teaches how we must manage those
whom Zebulun punishes. Knowledge of spiritual things teaches what is
that sweetness to which they are incited, or even compelled, when
external enjoyment (that is, carnal pleasure) is forbidden to them,
and they are harshly denounced for it, at the frequent prompting of
Zebulun. Therefore Judah had to teach the preper measure, and Issachar
the reason for reproof; so that with Judah's governance there may be
leniency in spirit, and with Issachar's prompting there may also be a
source of benefit. Let Zebulun seek to profit them and not himself,
so that the pursuit of offenders may be directed to benefit and not

to revenge.

59

ILII. 'hat is the office of a true zealot.

So Zebulun should not only apprehend offenders, but should defend
them against their persecutors in time of tribulation: otherwise he
is not a true sealot, nor can he truly be called Zebulun if he is more
ready to lay hold on them than to protect them. For it is not for
nothing that this sixth, and also last, of the sons of Leah is called
the dwellingaplace of fortitude (since Zebulun, as has been said, is
interpreted the dwellingfiplace of fortitude). See, then, how a home
provides shelter overhead for all its inhabitants, and encloses them
on every side, and indeed if it were not strong and well fortified, it
would not be the dwelling-place of fortitude. Thus it is certain that
the perfect sealot (as Zebulun can justly be called, and can truly he)

ought to protect with doctrine and discourse25

those who are weaker,
against powers of the air,26 and to reinforce them at all points against
worldly perils, and to persist in both offices, being both indefatigable
and insuperable. At one point he must be watchful against the devices
of the devil, at another against the misfortunes of the world.

Certainly if you are strong in both you are the dwelling-place of
fortitude, and worthy to be called Zebulun. Zebulun has to be swifter,
yes readier, to bear evil than to attack evil. And since he has to

become angry at those he has humbled because of their sin, he sorrows

 

250r, with teaching and.preaChing,

26Agreas potestates: wrongly translated in AV as spiritual wickedp
ness in high.places. These are the same devils that Milton places in
midair in Paradise Regained I, 39-M2. The probable reference is to
Ephesians VI, 12.

more when he is forced to overthrow them because of their sin than

when he is forced to punish them because of their defense. So he

throws himself willingly against the perils that arise, and voluntarily
withstands the whirlwinds of violent storms. Otherwise, he dwells in
vain at the haven of the sea, in vain makes ready a.dwelling~place in
the harem of the ships, if he trembles at the seaman's crisis of worldly
peril, and does not pleasantly receive these worn out with storms and

cast up upon the shore, and cherish them with all kindness.

XLIII. That it is the office of a sealot to be watchful not only against
violence but also against fraud.

Scripture says Zebulun shall dwell at theghgven of the sea, and he
shall be for a.haven of ships; and his borders shall be unto Zidon
(Genesis ILIX, l3). lhy should he dwell at the haven of the sea, do
you think, except to defend the margin of the land, and as a dwellingu
place of fortitude to protect the weaker members of the church? Thus
he combats the perils of those whom he sees exhausted by the unceasing
whirlwinds of persecution. And so that he may always be ready to bring
aid to the shipwrecked, he remains in the haven of ships, as it is writ-
ten concerning him. He is skilled in cherishing with a gentle console”
tion these oppressed with daily temptations, suffering from what may be
termed shipwreck, and almost destroyed by it: he knows how to raise
them'up to a state of security, and to call them home, as it were, to
tranquil harbor. In this way Zebulun dwells upon the seashore in the
road of ships, reaching as far as Zidon.

He ranges widely along the seashore, running to this side and to

61

that: now kesping watch all around for their protection, and now making
ready for enemy attack from all sides, he reaches as far as Zidon.

Zidon is interpreted huntigg, which rightly enough means deception by
fraud. Our Zebulun is occupied not only with arousing the feeble
against the fury of their persecutors, but also with snatching any of
the guileless from the snare of the hunters. Thus he reaches as far

as Zidon, thenever he uncovers the tricks of the adroit enemy, or detects
the fraudulent counsel of false brothers: gpd their word will eat as
doth g<c£gker, according to the Apostle (II Timothy, II, 17). For this
is that snare of the hunters, and it is like a net set by evil spirits
hunting for guileless souls: it is the tongue of syc0phants. the tongue
of detractors, who sow discord among brothers, inciting anger and quar-
reling.

So Zebulun reaches as far as Zidon every time he forestalls the
tricky devices of the deceitful, whether they be evil spirits or per~
fidious men. For we know that this sort of hunting of souls does go
on, sometimes through occult suggestion of demons, sometimes through
epen.persuasion of men. Yet Zebulun knows how to detect both kinds
with.prudence, and to uncover them with.prudent devices. So he estab-
lishes his dwellingbplace of fortitude in the region of the sea, on the
boundary of Zidon, that he may keep watch in one place against the fury
of pursuers, in another against the deceitfulness of tricksters, and
that there may be fulfilled.what is written about him: Zebulun “92;;
dwell at the haven of the se§&_and he shall be for an hgven of ships,

and his borders shall be unto Zidqg.

 

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XLIV. What it means to have perfect seal of spirit, and how much of
it may be had.

Let him who can ponder what sort of man this son is, or how great
is his power! By his service any man not only fortifies himself against
vices, but even struggles to wrest others from the snares of sin, and
when he is not able to divert their evil in action, still he strives
to thwart it by resisting. I do not know if a man can receive any
greater been from God in this life: I am not aware whether God, by
this grace, can confer upon man anything greater at this time than that
the perverse should be changed for the better through his service, and
be made sons of God instead of sons of the devil. Or does anyone think
it a greater accomplishment to raise the dead? Is it then a greater
to raise up flesh that has still to die again, than a soul that is to
'live forever? Is it a greater to call back the flesh to the joys of
the world than to restore to a soul the joys of heaven? Is it a greater
thing to restore to the flesh transitory good things that have to
perish again, than to render to the soul eternal good things that will
endure forever?

0 what a dowry, what a distinction, to receive such favor from God!
The bride of God was worthy to receive from her bridegroom no other
dowry: it did not become the heavenly bridegroom to give any other dowry
to his bride, than that she should be able to bear many sons to God by
the grace of adoption, and to enroll as heirs of the kingdom of heaven
those who had been sons of wrath and sons of hell. It is proper, then,
that Leah should cry out at the birth of Zebulun: God hath endued me

gith a good dowry (Genesis XXX, 20). Do you see what it really means

53

to possess a seal for righteousness, and to wage war on vices with all
one‘s heart, and to fight for truth? Whoever bears such a son, confi-

dently sings with the Prophet: I hate every false way (Psalm CXIX, 128).

XLV. How and whence ordered shame arises.

Now is it granted, after the birth of these six sons of the virtues,
for a man to live without sin, so that he can be without sin, at least
after he has hated vices? Who dares to think so? 0r who dares, in
this life, to hope so, when the Apostle says: If we sgy that wg hgye
no sinI we deceive ourselvesL_§nd the truth is not in us (I John I, 8).
Not to mention other aspects of the question, who can, in this life,
completely leave behind even his sins of ignorance, and avoid them
completely? Do even those who attack the sins of others entirely put
away from themselves the taint of every sin? Indeed, God.permits even
those by whom he arranges that the errors of others should be corrected,
to fall grievously (by the dispensation of great love), that they may
learn through their own fault how merciful they ought to be in attack-
ing others.

But how ashamed are they, do you think, when they cower in humility,
when they see themselves fallen into that state from which they snatched
others, or perhaps into one even more grievous? These are they who
should have furnished to other men a model for the state of righteous-
ness! lho do you.think is capable of estimating worthily the confusion
that stabs their hearts when they see in their own lives acts deserving

of the censure even of those whom they recall rudely seizing and harshly

punishing for their sins?

61:

This is the reason why Dinah is born after Zebulun: very often,
indeed, shame follows too great a seal that has ended in error. We
understand Dinah to be simply ghgmg, but an ordered shame: to blush
for sin alone is to have a good and ordered shamefastness. But one who
does not yet deserve to bring forth Zebulun believes in vain that he

can bring forth Dinah.

XLVI. What or of what sort is ordered shame.

Learn first to hate sin, and then you will begin to be really
ashamed of it. If you truly hate it, you.will be sooner ashamed of it,
That shame is recognized to be a true one, which is preceded and ac-
companied by hatred of vices. Otherwise, if you are taken in sin, and
are overwhelmed with shame because you are taken, I think you do not
blush for guilt, but for loss of reputation. This sort of shamefacedness
does not derive from the sin itself but from the harm to your good repute.
Hence it is not a reason for you to vaunt yourself because you have
given birth to Dinah. Indeed, perverse men have shamefacedness-ubut
would that it were good, would that it were set in order! For indeed
if they had this good sentiment, they might not be perverse, since if
they were thoroughly ashamed of sin, they would not commit it so readily.

Ihat sort of shame do you consider it to blush for poverty or
lowliness? Such men are not ashamed to blush for that which the heavenly
Judge was not ashamed to come down from heaven and teach: he said:

Eggrn of me,_fgrg; am meek and lowly_in heart (MatthewuXI, 29). But
those men who despise humility rather than follow after it are much more

ashamed to have a dirty shirt than a dirty mind. How many there are

65

today who are more ashamed to commit a barbarism against Priscian, when
they are speaking, than to advance some falsehood against the rule of
Christ when they preach! But why should we talk about those who often
even boast of their crimes, seeing that even men who seem to be spiritual
are scarcely able to overcome this sort of shame? Often, while they
benefit their neighbors by their office of preaching, while they are
disputing, perhaps, against pride, it comes about that they themselves
feel pride at how they happen to discourse so subtly against pride!

And if they chance to utter a short accent in the course of their talk
(as is likely to occur), they probably feel more shame over the fault
of speech than over the fault of self-esteem. Believe me, it is not

believable that this is the type of shame we should interpret as Dinah.

XLVII. How it is rare to have true shame.

Do you still wish to know how rare it is to spurn human shame
completely, and to have this true and ordered shame that means one has
given birth to Dinah? See, I forbear to talk of the physical, since
I am still dealing with spiritual matters. See, whoever you are who
believe you.have already given birth to Dinah, if you were forced to go
out in public naked, could you refrain from feeling shame? Now consider
whether you would be put to such confusion if you became defiled in mind
with unclean thoughts. Why boast any longer that you have given birth
to Dinah and.possess an ordered sense of shame, if you.blush less for
the-shameful places of the heart than you do for those of the body, or
feel more fear of the face of men than of the gaze of angels? Is it

true that you should be more ashamed of what God has made well than of

66

what you have done ill? Certain it is that God made those parts of the
body that we call the shameful parts: but no one but you yourself has
made the shameful places of the heart. If we diligently ponder and
correctly discern how rare human shame is, and how few are those in whom
it has really made its home, and who have only that shame which is set
in order, I do not think there can be further reason to wonder why Leah

conceived and brought forth this offspring so late.

XLVIII. What the preper quality of shame is.

But lest we seem to pass over in silence the reason for the name,
Dinah is interpreted thgt judgment, So this is that judgment by which
every man is visited through his own conscience, and convicted and con-
demned, and.punished with a.punishment worthy of that offence. For if
he were not conscious of himself, then there would not be any reason
why he should be ashamed. And if the offence had no punishment, there
would be no reason for anyone to hate it so, nor feel that he should
have avoided it. Thus in some strange way every man‘s mind is convicted
by his own conscience, and humiliated as befits his offense: at one
and the same time the mind.passes sentence upon itself and accepts pun.
ishment from itself. This is a Judgment in which the one who Judges
and the one who is Judged are identical; he who condemns and he who is
condemned are one and the same. Thus it was with reason that Holy Scrip-
ture intended to designate this quality as Judgment, together with an
example. For it always shows an example, and with what purpose except
to arouse the hearer's mind to amazement?

True Judgment is a wonderful thing, and worthy of amazement, and

67

deserves an example when it is pronounced, in that the more a man
really loves himself, the more harshly he passes Judgment upon himself;
and the more ardently he desires to be spared, the less he spares him-
self, for the more he fears his punishment, the more harshly his pun—
ishment is visited upon him.

Does it seem remarkable to anyone that if this virtue is worthy
to be included among the others, it should be expressed by a feminine
term, rather than by a.masculine one? For we all know that although
beauty is greater among women than among men, yet there is less constancy
in the performance of virtuous deeds. Is it not common knowledge to
what extent shame, however honest, weakens the vigor of the heart,
and how often it interferes with the performance of brave deeds, be-
cause the human mind is reluctant to be disturbed? Hence Dinah is not

a.man but a.woman, not a son but a daughter.

XLIX. 0f the usefulness and elegance of modesty.

Perhaps it was not without cause that God decreed the gift of a
daughter rather than a son to Leah after the birth of Zebulun, that she
might soften the boldness of her brother, and assuage raging spirits
with her gentleness. For Zebulun has enormous vehemence, as appears
from.the foregoing passages, and he gets extremely angry. But it is
known, as we all know, that women are more skilled than men in addressing
upset minds very gently, in assuaging the angry very sweetly. So it
seems to be extremely timely that Dinah should be born after Zebulun,
that the brother's ferocity should be moderated by the sister's lenience.

She greatly moderates the vehemence of the zealous mind in every

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possible way, when one discovers in one's self something to be ashamed
of. If I am not mistaken, this is the reason why Dinah is born after
Zebulun, that by her modesty the vehemence of her brother may be moder-
ated. But because Dinah does not undertake anything useful or magni-
ficant, she does not deserve to be made a tribe among the peeple of
Israel. Indeed, as I have said, since she often fears to cause disturb—
ance even for a good reason she often lacks the energy for strong and
virile deeds, and is even likely to impede them. But although, being a
woman, she is ineffectual in works of fortitude, yet she is seen to be
provident and circumspect in guarding honor, and although she does not
know how to please by her fortitude, still she knows how to please by
her charming beauty.

It is the function of Dinah to be admired for her beauty and her
unique charm. and her easy power to draw the beholder's eye to marvel
at her, and swiftly to entice the minds of her admirers with her allure.
Everyone knows how the modest manners of shamefastness render men
praissworthy to all, and cause them to be lovable. Why is it that
we almost always esteem modest men more warmly than others, unless
because (while we wonder at the modesty of shamefastness and the grace
of modesty in them) we are enticed somehow by the beauty of Dinah, and
are enslaved into love for her by the greatness of her beauty? 0 how
unique is this beauty of Dinah's! How celebrated is this loveliness,
whose beauty scarcely anyone does not admire, and by whose loveliness
scarcely anyone is not delighted! Let that Sichem, the son of King
Hemor, be witness to this, for he clung to her with such ardent love

that he preferred to have all his men circumcised against their custom

69

rather than not to have her.

L. How the shamefast mind exceeds the bounds of modesty, when it is
corrupted.by pride and vein glory.

0 how many are there, to this very day, who often carry out for
the love of’Dinah what they were unwilling to do for the love of God!
When the time for punishment is at hand, they hasten to cut off their
superfluity of shameful deeds to avoid the detraction of shamefastness.
They'prefer to undergo the annoyance of circumcision by amputating the
superfluities of their lives, rather than to seem immodest, and to be
without shame!

But who is Sichem, and who is his father? Or why do they wish to
have names of this kind: Sichem, which is interpreted shoulder or
labgg, and lmor which signifies gag? Now if we deliberate about it,
we shall quickly find out who they are. What are they who are usually
accustomed to circumcise their shameful parts not so much for God as for
Dinah. not so much for conscience as for shamefastness? Who are they,
I say, but love of one's own excellence, and love of vein glory! Such
a son of such a father-ulove of vain glory sired by love of one's own
excellence! Just hear how foolish this Emor is, and you will learn
how Justly he is named‘agg. Let us see why he has grown proud, why he
vaunts himself. If it is on account of what he does not really have,
but thinks he has, what stupidity, I ask, can be considered more stupid
than this? But if he has it, let him hear what the Apostle says to him:

What hast thou that thou didst not receive? Now if thou didst receive

it why doste thou glogz, as if thou hadst not received it?

 

70

(I Corinthians IV, 7). Indeed, the fact one has received is preperly
a cause of glory not to the receiver but to the giver.

What has man that is his own property save his sin? And what does
it signify to boast of one's own evil, or of the good of someone else?
.As for this sort of boaster, how truly foolish he is, how such a.name
as 1!g_becomes him! There seems to be the same intention in the fact
that Sichem is called shoulder, or lgbgg: for we carry burdens on the
shoulder, and.we do indeed labor when we do so. Therefore Sichem bowed
his shoulder for bearing a burden, and sweated much, all for the sake
of making this name for himself. Let us Just recall what we have read
about Issachar: Issachar is a strong ass... He saw that rest wasggood,

pad the land that it was pleasant: and he bowed his shoulder to caggz
(Genesis XLIX, 1M, 15), There Issachar counts himself an ass, and bows

 

his shoulder to carry. Here Emor is called an ass, and Sichem is shown
to have a.burden—bearing shoulder. You see that whatever is done for

the sake of true delight, the same is followed out for the sake of vain
delight. Issachar works for the rest that he sees, Sichem for the

vanity of praise that he covets. He is rightly called'lgbgp rather

than lgbgrious, because he does not attain true rest through his labor.
That which is rightly called labor is shown to be the labor of hypocrites,

who labor so much to win the vain favor of men.

LI. How the shamefast mind is cast down from the righteousness of its
intention.
This is that Sichem who met Dinah when she went out, and overcame

and debauched her. The integrity which she might have preserved if she

71

had stayed at home she lost by going out. For while the loveliness of
modesty is commended, praised and loved by almost everyone, when Dinah
goes out and leaves her own private chambers, quickly forgetting her
own weakness (the memory of which had kept her humble), suddenly men's
praises lay hold on her, beguile her with blandishments, and debauch
her. Delighting in the praise that is offered: what is this but being
seduced by Sichem, or the love of vain glory? It is true that Dinah
suffers corrmption by a.violent inJury rather than by consent of will,
since she struggles as well as she can against the blandishment of
vicious pleasure; for every time Sichem overbears the reluctant girl,
he drags her all unwilling to the shameful pleasure while she blushes
inwardly at the disgrace of her own seduction, and fights back as well
as she may.

But what do you suppose makes her leave her private chambers?
What impels her to wander at large? Is it that often, while we feel
great shame for our own weakness, we get to wondering how others feel
the same failings in themselves, and we think we have found a kind of
consolation, if we discover ourselves in the very depth of our depres-
sion, and think we have companions in our suffering? So it comes about
that we begin to inquire too curiously into the desires of others, ever
eagerly surveying their face, or carriage, or physical characteristics,
and becoming acquainted with their most hidden secrets through what
others tell us of them. Therefore when Dinah strives to discover the
condition of the souls of other people by means of exterior signs, does
this not mean that she abandons her own concerns and "goes out to see

the women,” and wanders at large? So when Dinah gazes about her

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curiously at the beauty of the women, she finds some more beautiful,
others less so. And when she keeps secretly comparing them with herself,
marking how far they exceed her in beauty, is it any wonder that the
craving for vain glory suddenly attacks her? When she is not strong
enough to repel the onslaught, for all her resistance, does this not

mean that she succumbs to the power of Sichem?

LII. How one virtue can be debauched at a time that the other virtues
are being strengthened by the same cause.

It should be noted that at the very moment Dinah is being debauched,
her brothers are employed in feeding the cattle. For the mind that
thrives upon charity and the other virtues usually reJoices over the
good fortune of others as much as it sorrows over its own misfortunes.
Thus when it considers its neighbors! lives by surveying their good
things,27 and compares its own fortune with theirs, it has to feel Joy
over their fortunes Just as it is constrained to favor its own. While
the loving mind feels an earnest concern for the success of others, for
their failure, their weakness, their excellence, it is touched deeply
by different emotions in turn. 80 it begins to fear for some, to grieve
for others, to hope for good fortune for these men, and for better for-
tune for those. It sees in some men qualities which it loves and re-

Joices in, and it also finds in others things which it abhors, and for

 

27The neuter plural noun bona means both good qualities and good
in the abstract, as well as goods or possessions. No word covers all
these in English, nor provides for the frequent antithesis between
bone and mala in several senses.

73

which it should rightly grieve.

In this fashion, while good emotions make play with guileless
thoughts, which run to and fro under the survey and self-assured dis-
cipline of these nearby: what does this signify but the brothers of
Dinah, the sons of’Leah, who are feeding their cattle? Do you not see
how at one and the same time the true love of one's neighbor works one
‘way and vain love of self another? True love of one's neighbor is
concerned with pasturage, in feeding one‘s brother's cattle; vain love
of self uses the occasion for the seduction of Dinah. As for the father
discovering the affair even before the news reaches the brothers, what
does this mean for us except that the idea of corruption reaches the
mind by knowledge rather than by emotion? But when it is pondered in
the heart long enough.,it is frequently revealed by knowledge, when it
penetrates to the inmost places of the heart, and strikes upon the
heart‘s emotions. Therefore when the mind is moved with care about
some matter, and is affected in turn by different emotions, be sure

that the news has reached the sons of Leah, the brothers of Dinah.

LIII. With how much speed or caution the corrupted.purpose should be
corrected.

Can you.imagine how they rave when they can no longer be unaware
of the seduction of their sister, nor conceal it further? What else
does Scripture say of them than that they were very wroth: and again
that they were enraged at the deflowering of their sister? (Genesis
XXXIV, 7). Indeed this rage, or rather raving, of the brothers teaches

us how much a man should be angry at himself, in what way he should

7n

despise himself, how he should denounce himself, how harshly he should
scold, when he recognizes that he has soiled his conscience with empty
self-glorification. So whoever he may be, he should keep in view his
own infirmities, that he may heal the swelling of his mind, and call
back to memory his own faults, without which no man passes through life.
Let him occupy himself with diligently pondering how unworthy in speech,
how unclean in thought he is, that thence he may clearly deduce how many
things he can find in his mode of life that ought by rights to be cut
off, if he wishes to have reason for true, not shameless, pride.

When this sort of revision of his condition is being considered,
this is Emor and his son agreeing to the pact of circumcision. What
is this saying, "cut off the shameful parts of your customs,” but
"circumcise the foreskins of your males”? And what else is it to say,
"otherwise you will not be able to have pride free from shame,” than
“otherwise you.will not be able to lie with Dinah?" If Sichem is glggxr
ing, if he is honorable modesty, what else is shameless glorying, glory.
ing without modesty, but Sichem without Dinah? For it is correct to
designate inveterate habits which are overcome with difficulty as of
the male sex. These are the men whom the brothers of Dinah wished to
be circumcised, but Scripture witnesses that they brought distress upon
Sichem by this condition of circumcision.

See how easily we can interpret this: they were in no way dis-
posed to give their sister to such a.husband, and although he was able
to fulfill the agreement of the prOposed condition, they still Judged
him absolutely unworthy of such a.match. And even if we are able to

cut off entirely all our dishonorable traits from our way of life, and

 

75

to be absolutely cleansed of them, still we should glory not in our

own merits but in the Lord. Perhaps the brothers of Dinah set these
hard terms for him because they completely distrusted him for lying with
their sister. But Sichem is readier to endure any hard condition, of
whatever sort, rather than to undergo separation from his much-loved
Dinah. And what we mentioned above often occurs: those qualities which
we are not able to root out of our mind when we are inclined to do so
for God's sake, this same task is easy for us when we fear to incur the

penalty of shame on account of them.

LIV. How, and with what caution, an intention should be altered, and
a.moral custom not deserted.

'hat should we say to this? Is it not perhaps better to groan in
silence than to make any answer, since we are not able to deny these
things? I shall say precisely that it is right for the brothers to be
displeased with this: it is right that the circumcision does not placate
them, because it was not done so much for God as for Dinah, not so much
for the divine ordinance as for human shame. It was an evil deed, still,
for them to exceed temperance in Just severity, and to have done dis-
service to the measure of equity in avenging their inJUIY. So Jacob
did right in denouncing their unadvised audacity, and he Justly blamed
their severity as much as their indiscretion. 0 how much fitter it would
have been to bring them gradually to the true worship of God, these men
who had been circumcised rather for Dinah‘s sake than for God's, instead

2
8I reproduce the discontinuity of the Latin structure.

76

of cutting them down by unexpected and swift death!

So let each man who remembers that it was not for the sake of God
that he cut off his own habits, mark from this, and diligently observe
how one should be merciful to these circumcised men. Who are these who
are circumcised in this way? Are they not habits that have been correct-
ed for an unworthy reason? In such cases we should not destroy our
honorable habits, but change our intent. They do wrong, indeed they
do wrong, who abandon good works, even though those works are begun for
a bad reason. Do not those who take this sort of vengeance upon their
own errors rush upon the circumcised, with Simeon and Levi, and violent-

ly slay them?

LV. With how very great consideration we should punish corruption of
intention.
It is worth while to mark diligently how so few were able to
carry out so great a slaughter. Indeed a carefully chosen occasion
helped them, when sharpness of pain impeded the circumcised whom they
intended to kill. The day chosen for this was the third day after the
circumcision, in which, according to Scripture, the padn is usually the
greatest. What are these days, or why are they said to be exactly three?
If the night means ignorance, then day must mean making known. The first
of the days is knowledge of the things outside ourselves: the second day,
knowledge of the things inside ourselves: the third day, knowledge of
the things that are above us. Outside us are physical things: within
us are spiritual things: above us are divine things. The first consider-

ation of those who circumcise themselves (though they do not do so for

77

the sake of God), ought to be, or usually is, to plan to endure exter-
nal harshness with.perseverance. The second consideration ought to be
that they inwardly acquire, through so much physical agony, what they
actually lost through the fault of wrong intention. The third considera-
tion ought to be that they should await the retribution of God, whom

they realise they have not so much pleased as exasperated by the obser-
vance of a feigned obedience.

Thus on the first day of the first consideration there comes to
mind the amputated license of beloved custom, and doubtless there is
pain, even great pain: for what a man has lovingly possessed is not
surrendered.withcut pain. 0n the second day of the second consideration
the mind feels itself brought to a state of mental impairment through
its physical injury, and the pain is probably greater the more deserved
it is. On the third day of the third consideration it apprehends how
heavy a.burden it bears because of its own condemnation, and how much
heavier a.burden it should expect because of the condemnation of God,
This is that third day in which, according to Scripture, the pain is
uwually greatest.

How much pain, do you suppose, stabs through the heart when it
diligently considers the evil which it has deserved, the evil which
it has endured outwardly in bodily torment, the evil which it has
brought about inwardly in guilt for offense, the evil which it has
deserved on the spiritual level in the sight of God? Indeed whoever
has been circumcised to no advantage suffers not only severely, but even

with most extreme severity when he reaches this third day,

78

LVI, That the mind, in the midst of its corruption, ought both to
suffer patiently and to remain hepeful of its correction.

However, the mind conscious of its offense and disgraced for its
infirmity should both.patiently grieve and remain hopeful of its cor-
rection. It has to grieve for its corruption and yet be hopeful of
correction, so that it may be afflicted by a tempered grief, and sus—
tained by confident hope. Thus it may both make restitution for the
past and.provide for the future. We have already said that we should
interpret Simeon and Levi as grief and hope. These are the two brothers
of Dinah, Simeon and.Levi, the savage avengers of her injuries, but would
that they were as discreet as they are strong! It is the part of Simeon
to make satisfaction for what was done amiss, and the part of Levi to
arouse the mind to whatever it has to attend to in future. Thus if you
grieve over corruption, and despair of correction, you have Simeon, but
you have none other. If you neglect to make satisfaction for the past,
but put your hope in future security, you have Levi, but you.have none
other. For a matter as important as this there is need to have both in

agreement, and both assisting each other.

LVII. How, and with what caution in upbraiding of sin or exaction of
debt, the debauched mind should be punished.

Now we have to consider once again how often Just men exceed the
bounds of temperate behavior in their brave actions. We can easily
demonstrate this to ourselves from their dead that we are considering.
For they drew their swords and violently slew those who were allied

to them in a social pact, and made this sudden slaughter of so many men

79

all for the violation of one girl‘s chastity. The sword of Simeon is
upbraiding, the sword of Levi is exaction. Simeon vehemently upbraids
the man corrupted in mind for the evil which he has done, while Levi
vehemently exacts the good which ought to be done. What else does it
mean when they fight with those swords than that they are punishing
the mind with the goads of upbraiding and exaction?

When a man's mind is vehemently aroused by these goads, it often
sorrows inconsolably even for things which it cannot at all avoid.
Overstimulated by these goads, it often even ventures to undertake those
things which it is in no way qualified to carry out. This is the source
of the intemperate sorrows of some men: it is also the source of those
unwise acts of abstinence which sap not only bodily strength but even
mental power. When Simeon is raging we observe certain men to be taken
up with such irrational depression that they cannot be restored by any
kind of consolation. We have known others to be so completely ruined
by immoderate abstinence that no abundance of dainties and no diligence
of cooks could satisfy them thereafter.

See how these warriors (I mean Simeon and.Levi) avenge themselves
by the way they fight! When they take their swords and slay the lovers
of Dinah, what else does it mean than upbraiding for inevitable mistakes
and exaction of impossible demands, to the point that not only bodily
strength but even the power of the mind are weakened, so that a man is
not able to protect himself from his own excesses, all for the sake of
human shamefastness? Hence Jacob is right in saying: Simeon and Levi
gre brethren; instruments of cruelty, waging war. 0 my soul, come not

thou into their secret;_unto their assembly, mine honor, be not thou

80

united (Genesis XLX, 5, 6).29 0 what warriors, who want to appear

to act valiantly, while they cruelly and violently slay the allies
bound to them in peace! Instruments of cruelty, waging war, but let
not my soul come into their secret. O unadvised men, who lost hold

on what they could do in venturing to do what they cannot! So let

not my soul come into their secret, nor mine honor be in their assembly,
It is not a good exultation to walk about among great matters, and mar-
vels that are over one's head, in which a.man can vaunt himself as if
he were accomplishing something by his own power, I say this is not a‘
good kind of exultation. So may mine honor not be in their assembly;

for it is said: because in their fury they slew a manLgand in their

selfwill they undermined a wall (ibid),

LVIII. How the mind, through overmuch affliction, sometimes becomes
unbridled even to the point of shamelessness.

What is meant by this man? Mental power. What is meant by the
wall? The discipline of the body. So the man who was the lover of
Dinah is truly killed when the mental power is exhausted by too great
a measure of affliction, until the mind grows unbridled even to the
point of patent shamelessness. Then certainly the lover of Dinah
perishes by the sword, when the mental power is so impaired by over—
whelming affliction that it cannot moderate its excessive behavior even

for the sake of human shamefastness. Then the wall is destroyed, when

 

2

9D-R. AV: Simeon and Levi are brethren; instruments of cruelty
Egg in their habitgtions. O my soul,_come thou not into their secret:
unto their assembly, mine honorL be thou not united.

81

the rigor of former discipline is profoundly impaired by immoderate
abstinence. But the most amazing, yes, the most detestable thing of

all, in warriors like these, is that they never acquiesce in the counsel
of even the most prudent man, nor do they even yield to the facts of
their own experience, not even when they begin to ail in body and decay
at heart. Their stubbornness is thrust through with the dart of condemna~
tion when it is said to them through the mouth of Jacob: Cursed be their
fggy, because it was stubborn,_and their wrath because itggg§_cruel
(ibid., 7). Amazing stubbornness, no less than madness, that can be
restrained from its headlong course and trackless straying only by the
curb of impossibility. See how they fight, these instruments of cruelty,
waging war! See how much they do and how much they endure for the sake
of Dinah! For Dinah the men are circumcised, for Dinah they are slain.

All this is done for Dinah, all for human shamefastness,

LIX. That not even ordered shame is good unless it is also tempered.
When we reproach human shamefastness, above, perhaps you wonder why

we teach that it belongs only to Dinah when we ought to understand that

Dinah means only ordered shame? But it is one thing for men to blush

for God's sake and another for them to blush for themselves: Let your

light so shine before men, Scripture says, that they mgy see your good

 

worksI andgglorifygyour Eggher which is in heaven (Matthew V, 16), Thus
it is a good thing to blush for infamy, not so much to your glory as to
the glory of God. Perhaps this is what it means for Dinah to go out:
to be ashamed of man's infamy for God's sake. For certainly Dinah

remains at home when our conscience is confounded in the face of God

82

because of our hidden deeds. Therefore for men to blush for God's sake
is to have a good kind of shame, one that we are sure belongs to Dinah.
Therefore shamefastness is ordered, and can be rightly considered almost
the same as human. Indeed shamefastness of this kind is good, if it is
not excessive. Certainly if Dinah were still a little girl, or had
kept to herself in the privacy of her bower, she would not have incurred
the disgrace of corruption, and there would have been no cause for all

those celamities.

LX. Of the number of the principal emotions, and a comprehensive sum-
mary of the way of ordering them.

This is the reason Dinah is born after Issachar and Zebulun: after
tasting the Joy of interior sweetness, and after acquiring a true hatred
of vices, a man is deeply disturbed over his weakness in proportion to
the sincerity of his feelings. Now we know Issachar is Joy of conscience,
Zebulun is hatred of sin, and Dinah the comeliness of modesty. And these
are the three youngest children of Leah. If we include these with the
four older ones, we certainly find that they are seven. A good deal
earlier I said that there are seven emotions and that when we set them in
order within ourselves, we number them among the virtues. The first to
be so set in order is fear, then sorrow, and after them hope and love.
After these four there are set in order Joy and anger, while the last
of all is shamefastness. So the meaning of Jacob having had these
children by Leah is precisely this: the mind is stimulated by its af-
fection, and creates of itself a virtuous offspring that deserves being

set in order. Thus we interpret Reuben, the firstborn of Jacob, as

33

ordered fear, Simeon as ordered sorrow, Levi and Judah as ordered hope
and ordered love, Issachar as ordered Joy, Zebulun as ordered anger,

Dinah as ordered shamefastness.

LXI. That ordered emotions are truly good, if they are also moderate.
It should be realized, however, that these emotions seem to be
truly good when they are not Just ordered, but also moderate, for often

when they exceed the rule of discretion, they lose the name of virtue,
Perhaps we can show this better by example, if we take the examples of
that firstborn brother. Certainly if immoderate fear were not perilous,
Jacob would hardly have said, speaking to Reuben: Unstgble_ge_g§ter,

thou shalt ngt excel; because thou wentest up to thy fgther's bed: then
defiledst thou it (Genesis XLIX, N). If we are to interpret Reuben as

 

ordered fear, why, I ask, does Jacob order him not to excel, unless it

is wrong to exceed the rule of moderation in any ordered fear?

LXII. In what ways fear passes the limit of moderation.

There are two ways that this son, fear, often oversteps the limit
of moderation: either it does not adequately cover one particular thing,
or it is applied widely to all sorts of things, even unprofitable ones.
Who will deny that Judas, after the crime of betrayal, ought to have
feared, with good reason? But who does not see that the most execrable
of all his traits was that, since he would not or could not observe
moderation in his fear, he crowned his deeds with an end more detestable
than their beginning by despairing of the evil he might have corrected?

But that superfluity of fear that spills out over everything deceives

8h

us too easily: sometimes it seeps into excellent men. For what excel»
lent man of authority, in providing for the necessities of those subJect
to him, moderates his solicitude to the extent that he never feels
excessive dread of disaster?

When this kind of fear arises it is Reuben's office; that is fear
caused not by love of the world, but by affection for one's neighbor.
But who could enumerate the incessant hazards and misfortunes that keep
occurring now and again, which his subJects' weakness, if not his own,
compels him to dread? And who does not know how difficult, how well-nigh
impossible it is never to exceed the bounds of appropriate fear? Hence
it often happens that the more prudent a.man is, the more anxious he
also seems: and the more sagely someone is able to foresee the hazards
of the dangers that encompass him, the more he is forced on many ocean
sions to let go the reins of his timid anxiety,

From this fact we can also correctly interpret what is said to
Reuben by Jacob: Unstable as water thou shalt not excel. For sometimes
water is interpreted.physical prudence, Just as wine is interpreted
special intelligence. When anyone turns this water into wine, through
the Spirit of God, he is raised to intelligence of the invisible by the
ladder of external knowledge, and the invisible things of God, from the
gagggion of the world are clearly seenL beinggunderstood by the thingy
that are made (Romans 1, 20). Hence the greater the abundance of water
that a.man has, the more COpiously his mind spreads itself abroad in
external knowledge. Indeed the more lavishly this-water increases,
while the mind surveys all things prudently, the likelier it is to breed

a tangle of terrible anxiety, and the wider it spreads: hence it is

35

rightly said: Unstable as water, thou shalt not excel. Thus the utmost
diligence must be used, when the water of worldly knowledge abounds,

lest the fear that is due to manifold anxieties grow beyond its due

MW.-

LXIII. To what inconsidered wandering too great fear seduces the mind.

To be sure, while Reuben was still a little boy, passing through
his years of childhood, he did not venture to pollute his father's bed,
either because he was unable or because he scarcely dared. But when he
became an adult, we read, he burst forth into so great impudence that he
seduced his father's concubine, Bala, the handmaiden of Rachel. If
Bela means imagination, how are we to understand that this handmaiden
was seduced? But what is the seduction of Bala.except the inordinate
and unconsidered wandering of the imagination? This happens, for example,
when overmuch fear has so prostituted the imagination (I will not say
corrupted it) that even during prayer it is scarcely able to restrain
itself from dwelling upon its fornication--or it cannot do so at all.
When the mind, in the very act of praying, often takes in images of its
worldly concerns, dues to overmuch preoccupation—uis not this Bale,
whom Reuben takes to his embrace in fornication?

Just consider how unfitting it is, at the very time when you ought
to be beseeching God to do away your eternal misfortunes, that you
should begin to have all these worldly perils before your eyes, and to
ponder on those things alone, because of which you had forgotten the
very things which alone you should remember! This is why the mind which

once used constantly to keep in its imagination only the good and evil

86

of the world to come, later becomes cowed by too great fear and cannot

keep out even from the secret places of the heart the invading army

of worldly cares. So since imagination is often led astray into such

unconsidered mental wandering by too great fear, his father rightly

speaks to Reuben of the corruption of Bala with the reproach: Unstable

£!_!gter, thou shalt not excel;_because thou.wentest_up_to thy father's

bed, then defiledst thou his couch.

LXIV. Of the power or efficacy of fear, without which we can neither
foresake evil nor undertake good.

Let us speak more openly about this emotion. It apparently has
great efficacy, more than the others, to accomplish either good or evil.
Though the mind is frequently cast down from its state of rectitude by
this quality, yet when it has somehow been cast down it can never be
restored without its help. For who is set free of any sort of sin,
however slight, without fear? Without fear we never forsake our evil
ways; without fear we cannot even begin to do good. Are not those words
of Jacobis obviously spoken of it (if they are rightly understood), when
it is said: ReubenI thou.art my firstborn, my mightgggpd the beginniug.
of gy sorrow; excelling in gifts, greater in command (Genesis LXIX, 3),30

Then there follows that passage of which we have already spoken
elsewhere: Unstable as waterLgthou shglfignot excel. I think it is
clear enough how this Reuben is the firstborn, or how he is the beginning

of sorrow, in accordance with what is said above: but how he is his might,

 

30A.: The beginning 9: my strength, the excellency of dignity;_the
W-

87

and the rest that is said about him, can be easily shown: he says £292
art my might. For who ever emerged victor in that battle in which the
spirit lusts against the flesh and the flesh against the spirit? I
say, who ever defeated so numerous an army of his lusts if he fought
without fear? Therefore, since all good begins in fear of the Lord,
might is rightly called the firstborn, since through the fear of the
Lord the heart is strengthened against its own lusts, the beginning of
its sorrow, since profitable sorrow accompanies fear of the Lord. For
Just as the mind's sorrow is peculiar to every man, and becomes bene-

ficial to him, so it has to be preceded by the fear of the Lord.

LIV, 0f the priority of fear and of other emotions and what they rule.

It is said: excelling in gifts, the greater in command. Among
all the gifts of God that seem to pertain to human welfare, the first
and.principal gift is recognised to be a good will, through which the
image of the divine likeness is reestablished in us. Whatever a man
does, it cannot be good unless it proceed from a good will. Whatever
is done out of good will cannot be bad. To put it differently, you
cannot wholly perish if you have goodwill. 0 amazing gift! 0 unique
gift! This is the first or principal gift awarded to Reuben, the first-
born, for indubitably an evil will is changed into a good one through
the fear of the Lord. Then why should he not be excelling in gifts?1
since he received the first and principal gift?

It is the first gift because every good deed begins in good will:

 

3lPrimus in donis.

88

it is the principal gift because nothing more useful than good will is
granted to men. Excelling in gifts, greater in command. Who would
deny that Reuben is greater than the others in power, since he very
frequently rules over all his other brothers? Levi gives way before
his surveillance, for when fear supervenes, hepe drape away. Judah often
withdraws at his order, and Zebulun accedes, since charity often cools
and hatred arises at the urging of fear. At his nod Issachar goes out
and Simeon comes in, because when fear enters, Joy is often excluded
and sorrow admitted. We see how Reuben even gives orders to his brothers
sometimes: we see how his rule extends far beyond that of the others.

It is true that the things we love are one sort, and the things
we hats are another, but in both cases we habitually feel fear, for
we often dread losing the former, or encountering the latter. Thus
Judah and Zebulun divide the authority between them, but Reuben extends
his over everything, since true love is lavished on good things alone,
true hatred on bad things alone, but fear upon the former and the
latter as well. Zebulun admits his brother Simeon into part of his
own.pawt, since we sorrow indeed over misfortunes, but not over all of
them, for we do not bear all of them. Levi has less power than Judah,
but a great deal more than Issachar, for there are more things that we
ought to love than that we dare to hcpe fer. Still it remains true that
there is more plentiful matter for hoping than for rejoicing, because
the things we have to reJoice about are few in comparison with those
we hope to have. Thus Judah and Zebulun surpass the other brothers in
the extent of their power: nevertheless they are quite unable to attain

the scope of Reuben.

59

Thus Reuben surpasses them all, the first, far exceeding the others.
For all the things that men ordinarily love, hape, hate or all that they
are accustomed to Joy or sorrow for, can give rise to all sorts of
reasons for fear. Indeed we often find many causes for being fearful
about one particular thing that we love, inasmuch as there are as many
occasions for fear as there are ways of losing something. So this
.Reuben greatly extends his sway, for not only the number of hidden things
but also the changeableness of appearances gives him power. For what can
I feel sure about since I have nothing I cannot lose? When shall I
attain this certitude in my knowledge, since there are far more things
that I do not know than that I know?

Fear being thus more widespread than other emotions, Reuben is
rightly said to be greater than his brothers in reapect to command.
And he is forbidden by his father to excel, but at the time that he
was unstable as water, when he had already gone up to his father's bed,
and had defiled his couch, he said, Reuben, thou art my might, and the
beginning of my sorrow: excelmimg in gifts, greater in command, Un-
stgble as wateerthou shglt not excel: because thou wentest up to tmy
father's bed, as didst defile his couch (Genesis XLIx, 3, h). See how
much evil Reuben ventures upon, when he grows out of bounds. Great

danger is soon encountered if our fear is not tempered by discretion.

LXVI. How virtues are changed into vices unless they are tempered
by discretion.
We should believe the same about the other emotions, that they

are full of danger unless we force them to remain within bounds.

90

Certainly it is easy to note how bad it is for grief and hope to exceed
the limit, from what has been said of Simeon and Levi: of whom Jacob
said: Cursed be their anger; for it was fierce: and their wrath, for
it was cruel (Genesis XLIX, 7). Therefore one should be careful to
watch over all emotions, that they be not only set in order but also
tempered. For fear too often falls into desperation, grief into bitter-
ness, immoderate hape into presumption, overmuch love into adulation,
idle gaiety into dissolution, intemperate anger into fury. Thus virtues
are changed into vices, if they are not at all tempered by discretion.
Do you.not see how all the others require the virtue of discretion,

lest they lose the name of virtue?

LIVII. How, and how late, discretion arises, though it is the eldest
child of reason.

This is that Joseph, who was loved by his father beyond the others,
though he was born late. Who does not know that the true good of the
mind cannot be gained nor preserved without discretion? Hence that
virtue without which nothing can be overcome, nothing consummated,
nothing preserved, is deservedly considered to be unique. But we hardly
deserve to receive this son, even belatedly, since we are taught perfect
discretion only through great practice, and great experience. First we
have to become expert in the individual virtues, before we can obtain
full knowledge of all and Judge adequately in regard to each one. We
learn much about discretion by reading, much by hearing, much by the
innate power of Judgment: indeed we never are completely instructed

about it without the supervision of experiential knowledge. After all

91

others there should follow that one who is to be the Judge of all others.
The first essential is that we should assiduously devote ourselves
to the pursuit of the several virtues, and in doing so we cannot avoid
constant failure. So we have to rise again and again, and to learn by
our frequent lapses what vigilance and what caution have to be observed
in winning and keeping the good qualities of the virtues. Thus it is
that the discipline of the virtues is acquired through long practice,
whenever the trained mind is brought to complete discretion in its habits,
and rightly reJoices as if over the birth of Joseph. Before his birth
his brothers acted entirely without discretion. The more they under-
took things that were beyond their powers, the more lamentably and hideous-
ly they failed. As we have said, this is the reason that Dinah was born
afterward, since shameful disgrace often accompanies humiliating failure,
But after the birth of Dinah, and as if by the ignominy of disgrace, his
brothers discovered and learned by experience that there is nothing
better than to be ruled by Judgment. He that is slow to anger is better
then the mighty (Proverbs XVI, 32), The_prudent man shall speak of
victoriesI and he who acts adygsedly shall never be regretful (Proverbs
m 0)).32
Therefore when the stringent need of advice is recognised through
experience, and is attentively sought out by thoughtful consideration,
and.is found, this means that Joseph is born, who is interpreted.mmg
virtue of discretion. But it is obvious why no handmaiden, nor even

Leah herself, could bear such a son, but only Rachel: inasmuch as

 

32Not XXI as stated. I cannot locate this.

92

neither sensuality, nor imagination, nor even affection itself, but

only reason, can so distinguish and know. So if we interpret Rachel

as reason, why should we not immediately see that Joseph can only be
born of Rachel? For we can hardly doubt that discretion arises from
reason alone. Like mother, like son. Joseph is from Rachel, discretion

from reason.

LXVIII. Of the benefit of discretion and its prOperty.

This is the Joseph who, alone among his brothers, was clothed in
the long robe, because only such an act as is moderated through the
prudence of discretion leads to such consummation and an appr0priate
conclusion. This is Joseph, who is loved by his father more than all
the brothers, since true discretion realizes impending danger in the
very instant of temptation and among the very shapes of evil suggestions,
recognizing them by their quality. He also reveals to other men who
confess their thoughts to him the ambushes of imminent evils, and makes
them cautious of future perils. This is Joseph, whom his brothers
emulate, whom others revere, whom the Jews sold, the Egyptians bought:
for they agreed more quickly to his advice, and having realised the
darkness of their own error, acceded more readily to the prudence of
another, rather than trusting in their own righteousness of prudence.
This is that Joseph who is the husband of a virgin, the lover, not the
violator of chastity, since discretion is the keeper, not the corrupter,
of interior purity. This is the boy and the messenger who was the only
one able to remain with the blessed Job in all his persecution, who

desired to renounce straightway the injuries they had done, since without

93

discretion the mind neither knows nor corrects the injurious acts of
the virtues.

That boy cannot die with the dying: discretion cannot cease in
adversity nor with the increase of temptation, but it then increases,
For the more we are goaded by harsh temptations, the more we are beset
by thronging perils, then the more excellently we are educated in dis-
cretion: and often the losses of the other virtues are the profits of
discretion. So Joseph not only knows how to grow with the growing,
and to increase with the increasing, but to turn his brothers' betrayal
to his own profit, and to acquire the riches of prudence from the de-
feats of others. Such a son is rightly called Joseph, for Joseph is
interpreted increase. Hence it is correctly said of him by his father:
Joseph is a growing son; a growing songgpd comely to behold (Genesis
XLIX, 22),33 Thus he is correctly called increase who is ever increased,

whose increment is not ended up to the end,

LXIX. How useful, and how difficult, it is to conform completely to
discretion,

Joseph's very dreams testify how great is the excellence of this
virtue, as do his father's words, when it is said: Shall I and thy
mother and thy brethren worship thee upon the earth? (Genesis XXXVII,
10).3h His father and his mother and his brothers adored Joseph, either

of their own free will, or perforce, being conformed to discretion,

 

33AY: ‘A fruitful bougthev n gifruitful bough by a wall,
31+

AV: Come to bow down ourselves to thee to the earth,

91+

inasmuch as by discretion is governed that interior sun of the intellec-
tual realm, that eye of the heart (I mean the intention of the mind),
By discretion the subtle reasoning powers are sharpened at their source;
by discretion the whole brotherhood of virtues is tempered, and which»
ever virtue does not accede in his counsel or submit to discretion,
quickly loses the name of virtue. It is he who does not neglect his
brothers' negligence: it is he who denounces their excesses. When he
is present, they are not permitted to undertake anything beyond their
capacities; when he is present, nothing is permitted to be left undone
through negligence. In his presence they are not permitted to fall
away either to the left or to the right, nor to act sluggishly nor
precipitantly, nor to anticipate occasions ahead of time or defer them
beyond the right time.

This is the reason for the serious and almost implacable discord
between him and his brothers, which Scripture does not conceal, when
it frankly states that his brothers hated him and could not speak
peaceably to him, For Joseph's warnings seem to them very severe, his
regulations hard, his counsels unendurable. ‘What is harsher or more
difficult than not to neglect anything that has to be done, and never
to exceed the measure, never to upset the proper order of doing anything,
never to exceed the bounds? Believe me, the mind exacts nothing from
itself with more difficulty than that it should preserve measure in all
its feelings. It often happens when Joseph's brothers are constructing
some great work, that they are acclaimed from all sides with Good!
Good!, for they habitually attempt not only unprofitable things, but

even impossible ones. Frequently one of the mind's emotions is stimulated

95

by this sort of acclaim from its admirers to the exercise of immoderate
audacity in bold actions: indeed very often the mind's intention is.
depraved until it is led into the offense of hypocrisy and destroyed.

This is the worst offense, and deserves to be abominated beyond
others as being the most hateful to God of all offenses. It is of this
them Joseph accuses his brothers to this father, as Scripture itself
clearly states, when it says: (Joseph) gccused his brethren to his father

2).35 The vice which God unique—

of g most wicked crime (Genesis XXXVII,
1y hates is rightly interpreted as nothing other than hypocrisy, We
have it on the authority of Augustine that a feigned equability is not
equability'but a double iniquity. This vice is discovered by Joseph,
when insidious evil is seized upon by discretion and made known. When
this vice corrupts the sons, then the father corrects this vice: when

it touches the feelings and beats too harshly upon them, and masters

them too long, then indeed it does not incline the mind to concord.

LXX, Of the many functions of true discretion.

Thus it is Joseph's office to take heed wisely not only of this
vice but of any other insidious evil, even if it were hitherto secret:
to foresee with caution, to lay hold with skill, to uncover with speed,
to combat with acerbity; Part of Joseph's office is the care and custody
of all his brothers, part of it is this discipline of the various ones;
part is the arrangement of the things they here to do, and the foresight

for future matters. It is his office to attend with diligence, to dis—

 

3SAY: Joseph brought unto his father their evil report,

96

cuss frequently, how much the mind accomplishes each day, or perhaps
how much it is remiss: by what thoughts it is most assaulted: by what
feelings it is most frequently touched. Joseph has to know perfectly
not only the vices of the heart but the weaknesses of the body, and to
seek out the means of amending its health, in accordance with whatever
its need may be, and to administer these remedies it has found.

He has to know not only the heart's own vices but also the rewards
of grace, and the merits of the virtues, and furthermore to distinguish
them attentively, and to discriminate subtly between those which are
natural good qualities and those which are the gifts of grace. He ought
to make plain to every man with what tricks of temptation the evil
spirit attacks him: with what consolations of spiritual joys he is pro-
vided; how frequently the holy spirit visits him: and how, though this
spirit is one and the same, it does not always affect him the same way,
or in the same guise, but he is filled now with the spirit of wisdom,
now with the spirit of understanding, now with the spirit of counsel,
or with any other of the affects. In short, this Joseph of ours ought
to know completely the whole state and character of interior and ex-
terior man, as far as is possible, and to seek out subtly and investi-

gate with diligence not only what he is, but even what he ought to be.

LXXI. Of the twin offspring of reason: the grace of discretion, and
the grace of contemplation.
Thus the mind is constantly instructed by Joseph, whenever it is
brought to full self knowledge, Just as it is instructed by Joseph's

own brother, Benjamin, whenever it is raised up to the contemplation

97

of God. As we understand Joseph to be the grace of discretion, so we
understand.BenJamin to be the grams of contemplation. They are both
born of the same mother, because knowledge of God and of one's self are
obtained through reason. Benjamin is born long after Joseph because
the mind that has been exercised a long time in self knowledge and is
still not entirely instructed is not raised up to a knowledge of God.
It is in vain for a man to raise up the eye of his heart to try to see
God if he is not yet fit to see himself. First let a man learn to know
his own visible things before he ventures to think he is able to grasp
the invisible things of God. First you have to know the invisible things
of your own spirit before you can be fit to know the invisible things
of God. Else, if you cannot know yourself, with what shamelessness do

you.presume to grasp things that are above you?

LXXII, How the mind is lifted up to the contemplation of God by full
self knowledge.

The rational mind assuredly finds that the chief and principal
mirror for seeing God is its own self. For if the invisible things of
God ego clearly seen, beigg understood by the thiggs the: are made
(Romans I, 20), I wonder where they are to be found if not in the
evidences of knowledge distinctly imprinted in his image? We both read
(Genesis 1) and believe that man is made in the likeness of God as re-
gards his soul: and therefore as long as we walk by faith, and not by
sight (II Corinthians V, 7) and still see through a glass in a dark
manner (I Corinthians XIII, 12), we cannot find a glass better fitted

for vision and imagination, so to speak, than the rational Spirit.

98

Consequently whoever thirsts to behold his God, let him polish his
glass, let him cleanse his spirit. So the true Joseph never ceases to
hold and to clean his glass, and to gaze into it without ceasing. To
hold it, lest it slip down and stick fast in the love of the world; to
polish it, lest it get soiled with the dust of foolish conjectures: to
gaze into it, lest the eye of his intention turn away to empty pursuits.

For once the mirror has been polished, and once he has gazed at
it intently for a while, there begins to be visible a certain clarity
of divine light, and a great ray of some unfamiliar vision bursts upon
his sight. This light has illuminated the eyes of him who said: 995$,
lift thou.gp the light of thy countenance upon us: thou hast put gladu
ness in 9:: heart (Psalm 1v, 6, 7). From such a vision of light, that
it admires within itself, the mind catches fire in some marvellous way,
and is inspired to see the light that is above it.

I say that through this vision the mind descries its burning desire
for the sight of God, and takes courage. So let the mind, which now
blazes with desire for this vision, recognise that it has brought forth
Benjamin if it now has hope fer wham it desires. For it conceives in
the act of hoping, and bears in the act of desiring, and the more its

desire grows, the closer it comes to the time of birth.

LXXIII, How arduous and difficult it is to gain the grace of contemplation,
Yet we know (for this, too, we have been taught by Scripture): figpg_

deferredgmgketh the heart sick (Proverbs XIII, 12). There is nothing

that so oppresses the heart as impatient desire. What more healthful

thing can it seek than the sweetness of this vision? What is more pleasant

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to the sense? What does the heart experience that is more joyful than
this? Rachel knows this (for reason cannot conceal it): every other
sweet is bitter in comparison with this pleasure. This is why she cannot
slacken her zeal, nor temper her desire. This is why she has such huge
anxiety and grief over her parturition: for where else do you think
so vast a grief could arise, except from constant zeal and impatient
desire? They grow daily: both suffering from desire, and grief from
suffering. They increase continually: both desire from zeal, and zeal
from desire. For Rachel knows this matter is beyond her strength, and
yet she cannot moderate her zeal nor her desire,

Nor does the mind over succeed in attaining this great grace through
its own effort. This is God's gift, not man's merit. Yet certainly
no one receives such grace without enormous zeal and ardent desire.
Rachel knows this, and therefore her zeal multiplies, and her desire
burns hotter day by day. It is in such anxiety of daily effort, in such
vast sorrow, that Benjamin is born and Rachel dies also: for when the
mind of man is transported above itself, it passes beyond all narrow
limitations of human thinking. .Raised up to that which is above it,
and rapt in ecstasy, the whole mind of man succumbs to its vision of
divine light. Now what does the death of Rachel mean, if not the fail-

ure of the reason?

LXXIV. 0f the kind of contemplation that is above reason.
So when Benjamin is born, Rachel dies, since the mind that is
rapt in contemplation learns the great inadequacy of human reason. Had

not Rachel died and had not all competence of human reason fallen away

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for the Apostle when he said: Whether in the bodY....or out of the
body, I cannot tell: God knoweth? (II Corinthians XII, 2). Hence let
no man think he can penetrate to the clarity of that divine light by
disputation. Let no man believe he can comprehend it by human reason.
For if that divine light could have been approached by any disputation,
then it would not have been inaccessible! That is why the Apostle
boasts that not even he had got to it by himself, but he had certainly
been carried thither: I know a man in Christ,,,(whether in the body...
or out of the bodyL,I know not, nggknoweth) such an one_g§ught up to
the third heaven (ibid.). But what is this third heaven that is between
earth and heaven? This is between the body and the spirit. There is
one dignity of the human spirit, and another of the angelic spirit, and
the excellence of the divine spirit is still another thing, far differ-
ent. The excellence of the angelic nature far exceeds the dignity of
the human spirit, which is subject to punishment and blame, for the
angelic nature is free of them; but that spirit which made both man and
angel incomparably surpasses both,

A.mind is truly raised to any one of the heavens therefore, when
it utterly abandons thought about earthly things and directs itself to
contemplation of them. Self knowledge has to do with the first heaven,
while contemplation of God has to do with the third, Who do you think
ascends to this third heaven, save him who likewise descended, the son
of man who is in heaven? And if there are those who ascend as far as
heaven, and descend as far as the depths, yet they probably only ascend
to the first and second, for they cannot ascend as far as the third.

Indeed, men can be caught up to this heaven: yet they simply cannot

101

ascend there by themselves.

Nevertheless we can distinguish three stages in that degree of
the knowledge of God that can be attained in this life: and we can
divide it into three heavens according to the threefold difference of
the stages, inasmuch as God is seen in one way by faith, is known in
another way by reason, and is comprehended in still another way by
contemplation. The first vision belongs to the first heaven, the second
to the second, and the third to the third. The first is below reason,
the third above it. Men can indeed ascend to the first and the second
heaven of contemplation, but they do not ever get to the one that is
above reason unless rapt outside of themselves through ecstasy of mind.
Since we should interpret Benjamin as that sort of contemplation which
is above the level of reason, we can make quite apprOpriate conjectures

about the meaning of his mother's death.

LXXV. Of the pro-eminence of spiritual speculations.

So the knowledge of any created being is too narrow for the height
of this type of contemplation, and lies as far beneath it as the earth
is beneath the heavens, and hardly occupies the space of a point. As
compared to the knowledge of the creator, what is any sort of knowledge
of created beings, more than what earth is in comparison to heaven, or
the center in comparison to the whole circumference of the circle?

Still this earth, inferior as it is, does have knowledge of inferior
things: mountains and hills, fields and valleys. In accordance with
the variety of creatures, there will likewise be a variety of knowledges,

To begin at the very lowest level, there is a great distance between

102

one body and the next. Just as there are celestial bodies, there are
also terrestrial bodies. Yet the distance between a body of any sort
and the spirit is greater than that between a body of any sort and some
other body, however unlike it. As for these spirits, some are irration-
al, others rational. Those who are still only concerned with physical
things seem as if they had their eyes fixed.upon the ground, but those
who turn their attention to spiritual matters mount upward, as it were.
The mind that strives to ascend to the height of knowledge should
have it as its first and.principal study to know itself. The great
height of knowledge is to have learned to know ones' self completely.
It is a great and a high mountain, the full knowledge of the rational
spirit. This mountain overteps the peaks of all worldly studies: it
looks down from its height on all philosOphy, all worldly knowledge.
[hat like this knowledge was Aristotle able to find out, or Plato,
or all that crew of philosOphers? Truly, and beyond any doubt, if they
had been able to climb this mountain by the exercise of their wit, if
their studies had been sufficient for finding out the truth about them»
selves, if they had known themselves completely, they never would have
worshipped idols, they never would have bowed the neck to a creature,
they never would have rebelled against the creator. Here the investi-
gators failed in their investigation: here, I say, they failed, and
hence they shall not be able to ascend the mountain. Man shall_go up
to a high heart. and God shall be exalted (Psalm LXIII,7, 8).36 Learn

to consider, 0 man: learn to consider yourself, and you have gone up to

 

36My own translation, as both Douay and AV differ from Richard's

version.

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a high heart. As much as you grow in daily knowledge of yourself, so
much.will you climb to higher levels. The man who has come to complete

self knowledge has already seen the mountain tOp.

LXXVI, How rare and pleasant it is to apply spiritual vision to prac—
tical uses, and to turn it to delight.

0 how rare are those who climb hither! Rare indeed it is to climb
this mountain, but it is much rarer to stand upon the top of it and to
stay there awhile. And it is rarest of all to live there in quietness
of soul: Who shall ascend into the hill of the Lord? or who shall
stand in his holy place? (Psalm XXIF, 3). The first task is to climb:
the next one to stand, It is toilsome to stand, but much more so to
climb. Many there are, indeed, who fail in the ascent, because the
toil of climbing is too great; many come down immediately from the haz-
ardous peak, because of the toil of standing. Perhaps it seems intol-
erable to them, not only that one cannot ascend this mountain without
great toil, but also that it is not possible to stay there without
great difficulty. But now perhaps you have climbed it, and now you have
learned to stand there: do not let even this suffice you, Learn to
stay there and to make it your home, and to go back up to it whenever
you have been drawn away by some kind of straying of your mind. Surely
long usage will turn it into such pleasure for you that you will be
able to stay there with no hardship: indeed, it will rather seem a
penalty to be elsewhere than to stay there awhile.

It is amazing joy to be able to stay on this mountain without toil.

Peter testifies to this when he is charmed by so much unaccustomed delight,

101+

and exclaims: It is gpod for us to be here! (Matthew XVII, h). 0

happy is he who can ascend this mountain and be at rest in his mind!

How great, how rare a.pleasure! Lord, who shall abide in thy taberngplg?
who shall dwell in thy holy hill? (Psalm xv, I). And while it is indeed
a great thing to be able to climb up, and to stand there, it is a greater
to be able to dwell there, to be able to rest. It is virtue to ascend
and to stand: but to dwell and to rest is felicity. Each accomplish-
ment is indeed great and each amazing. The Prophet marvels at each,

but fer different reasons: the former for the greatness of its diffi-
culty, the latter for the greatness of its pleasure. Amazement over

the difficulty is seen in this exclamation: Who shall ascend into the
'gill;9f the Lord? or who shall stand in his holy place? (Psalm XXIV, l).
Amasement over the pleasure is seen in this exclamation: Lord, who

shall abide in thy_tgbernacle? who shall dwell in thy holy hill?
(Psalm.XI, 1). To ascend, to stand: 0 what fortitude! To dwell, to

rest: 0 what blessedness! Who is fit for the work, who is worthy the

reward? Lord, who shall ascend? Lord, who shall stand on thy holy

hill? Send out thy light and thy truth, and let them lead me: let them
bring me unto thy holy hill, and into thy tapernacles (Psalm XLIII, 3).

 

LXVII. How vainly we strive to climb to the tOp without prevenient
grace.
Do you.not see that it is truth alone that conducts and brings us
to this hill? Itself it leads and itself is that which persuades us.
I gladly follow truth: I do not distrust such a guide. Truth is skilled

in leading: truth is unable to mislead. But what is truth? What sayest

105

thou, good teacher, Christ our teacher: what is truth? I am the way,
and the truth. and the life, he says (John xxv, 6). So let the man who
wishes to ascend into the mountain follow truth. Follow Christ, whoever
you may be who wish to ascend into that mountain. From the teaching of
the Evangelist we learn that Jesus took his disciples, Peter, James and
John, gpd4bringeth them up into an high mountain_§part (Matthew XVII, 1),

So the disciples of Jesus were taken upward and apart37

that they might
understand this high mountadn. The way is hard, the way is secret,
and.unknown to many, that leads to the summit of this mountain. Only
those, I think, run without error, only those arrive without mishap,
who follow Christ and are led by truth. You.who hasten upward, you go
with safety if truth goes before you, but without it you toil in vain.
Just as you desire not to fail in attaining the truth, so the truth

cannot fail to be attained. Hence follow Christ, if you wish not to

go astray.

LXXVIII, How great is the power of complete self knowledge.

But lest the toil of the journey and the difficulty of the ascent
should terrify you, hear and note what is the reward for completing the
climb, Jesus is transfigured upon this mountain peak: he is seen there
with Moses and.Elias, and both are recognized without any witness. The
voice of the Father is heard there, speaking to the Son. Are not these
things marvellous? Are they not to be desired? Do you wish to see

Christ transfigured? Go up into this mountain: learn to know yourself.

 

37Sursum et seorsum.

106

Do you wish to see Moses and Elias, and to recognize them without any
witness? Do you wish to understand the law and the prophets apart from
a teacher, without any exegete? Go up into this mountain, learn to
know yourself, Do you.wish to know the mysteries of the secrets of the
Father? Go up into this mountain, learn to know yourself. For he
descended from heaven when he saidzy’7‘h- e Ivh‘3 :38 that is, know

thyself. Now do you not see the significance of the ascent of this

mountain, and how profitable is complete self knowledge?

LXXIX. In what ways we reach the heights of knowledge.

But what are we to say about the fact that Christ would not go up
into this mountain without three disciples, and that he did not try to
take more than three? Perhaps this teaches us that one cannot reach
the pinnacle of knowledge without a three-fold concern. Little by little
we are brought forward through a concern for action, a concern for medi-
tation, a concern for prayer, after which.we are led into perfect knOWa
ledge. For we find out much by doing: we discover much by searching

39

out: we unravel much by praying, Inasmuch as there are innumerable
things which we are unable to find out either by experience or by reason,
we deserve to learn them by divine inspiration, through the importunity
of prayer. Having taken these three companions, truth sets out in our

soul, and raises itself up to the heights, and reaching higher in its

daily course, at last gains the tap of this mountain.

 

38Juvenal. Satires XI. 27: e caelo descendit pr ‘“L 'A9<””l1
39

Extorquemus.

107

0 how many people we see today, studious in reading, indolent in
work, lukewarm in prayer, who still dare think they can reach the peak
of this mountain! But when, I ask, can they reach it, since they do
not have Christ for a leader? For Christ does not lead them, since he
will not go up except with these three disciples. Therefore let the
man who wishes to have Christ as the leader of his journey, the guide
of his ascent, Join zeal for work and prayer to his zeal for reading.
Certainly the mind which does not follow the footsteps of Christ per-
fectly, or walk exactly in the way of truth, is not raised to the
supreme height of knowledge without an immense amount of training,

without constant seal and ardent desire.

LXXX. How divine revelation goes to meet us when we have made our
utmost effort,

It should also be stated that many peeple believe they have already
attained the heights of this mountain when they have scarcely touched
its foothills. Let it be a sure sign for you that you.bave not attained
the peak of this mountain, if you have not yet deserved to see Christ
glorified. Directly your leader Christ has established you.npon the top,
he will appear to you in another guise, and will be clothed in light as
a garment, and directly (as the Evangelist witnesses) his garments will
become white as snow, such as fuller could not make them upon earth.

For that splendor of divine wisdom, which is descried from the high peak
of speculation, cannot be in any way defined by the prudence of human
sense. Note, then, that Christ has one sort of garment in the valley,

and another on the mountain: in the valley he has a garment that is

 

108

seamless, to be sure, but on such a mountain as this he has a garment
full of glory. Utterly simple truth is innocent of the scissors of
schismatics: hence Christ never puts on any but seamless garments,
whether in the valley or en the mountain. But there is a great differ-
ence between a seamless garment and a garment full of glory.

Do you want to know the difference in his garments, and to learn
the clear distinction between one garment and another garment? He said,
I; I have told_xou.earthly,things,_and_ye believe not; how shall_ye
beligveLgif I tellyyou of heavenly7things? (John II, 12). Distinguish
therefore between doctrine and doctrine, and you will find out the dif—
ference between the garments. 0 how great is this difference between
the doctrine which teaches earthly things and the doctrine which teaches
heavenly ones! And indeed neither the one nor the other can be taught
without Christ, for they are not learned without the truth. For what
true thing is learned where the truth does not speak? Therefore it is
Christ who teaches both; but he teaches the earthly things in the valley,
and the heavenly ones upon the mountain. Then as long as you linger
in the valley and do not ascend to the height, Christ is only teaching

you about earthly and very low things.

LXXXI. How suspect should all revelation be, that is not accompanied
by the witness of the Scriptures.
But if you now think that you have gone up to a high heart, and
have attained that great high mountain, if you now believe that you see
Christ transfigured, do not readily believe him, whatever you see or hear

in him, unless Moses and.Elias accompany him. We know that all evidence

109

depends upon the word of two or three peeple. I suspect any truth that
the authority of Scripture does not confirm, nor do I receive Christ in
his transfiguration if Moses and Elias do not attend him. Both in the
valley and during the ascent of the mountain I often receive Christ
without a witness, but never upon the mountain top or in his transfigu-
ration. If Christ teaches me about external things, or about my inter-
ior life. I readily receive him, inasmuch as I can judge in these mat-
ters by my own experience. But when the mind is led up to the heights
(since heavenly things are brought under discussion), and it is a matter
of'profound.”0 concerns, I do not receive Christ upon such a pinnacle of
the sublime without a witness, nor can revelation, however authentic

it may seem, be confirmed without the attestation of Moses and Elias:
that is, without the authority of Scripture.

So let Christ furnish two witnesses for himself in his transfigurap
tion, if he wants me not to distrust this light of his glorification,
great and unusual as it is. Then, in order that this defendant may
confirm his written evidence with the spoken testimony of two or three
peeple, let him show forth the authority of Scripture, both figuratively
and literally!"1 to attest the truth of his revelation. Behold how lovely
and pleasant it is for manifest reason to come forward on one side, in
the revelation of truth, and for both literal and figurative discourse

to come to meet it on the other, to confirm the revelation! Otherwise

 

1‘OThe connotation, both of height and of depth, cannot be retained
in English.

hi
aperte.

110

I would be afraid in the height of the day, fearing lest I should be
misled by the demon that walks at midday.

Whence come so many heresies and errors, if not from the fact that
the spirit of error transforms himself into an angel of light? Surely
you see that both are transfigured, Christ and the devil? But Christ
confirms the truth of his light by two witnesses. Therefore Moses and
Elias appear with the Lord upon this mountain; however, they appear in
majesty, not in the darkness of the letter, but in the glory of the

spiritual meaning.

LXXXII. How incomprehensible are the things that the ecstatic mind
sees through divine revelation.

See how great are the things that are shown forth.upon this moun-
tain: but still greater than these are the ones that follow. The dis-
ciples see all this standing, for they do not yet fall on their faces.
The Father's voice is not yet heard, nor is the hearer yet thrown down.
Rachel is not yet dead, nor is Benjamin yet born. For as soon as the
Father's voice thunders, it prostrates the disciples. The hearer falls
down at the thunder of the divine voice because the capacity of human
sense fails before the inspiration of the divine, and unless it abandons
the narrow bounds of human reason, the grasp of the intelligence cannot
be enlarged far enough for the embrace of the divine inspiration. So
the hearer falls down at the point where human reason fails. So Rachel
dies that Benjamin may be born. And unless I am mistaken. the death of
Rachel is also a symbol of the falling down of the disciples: a three-

fold failure is represented in the three disciples-athat is, a failure

111

of sense, memory and reason. For physical sense, and memory of external
events, and human reason all are precluded when the mind is rapt out
of itself and is raised to the supernal.

Let us hear how intelligible are the words that the Father's voice
pronounced, and let us understand how right it is for the hearer to
fall down: This is my beloved Son, in whom I gm wellppleased (Matthew
XVII, 5). It is one thing to say "I am well pleased (copplacui)' and
quite another to say ”it is pleasing (cogplacuit),” and yet one gospel
writer has one, and another the other.“2 The result is that if it is
correctly said to be “I am well pleased,“ the meaning which is recorded
by the other writer can be truly understood but cannot be translated.
Truly, beyond all contradiction, ip ipso mihippomplacuit, in quo ipse
‘pihi_complgcui, but not Just in quocunque mihi complamuit, in 1110
ippe mihi complacui. Therefore if the words had not been ”I am well
pleased,” the writer would simply not have dared to say so.

He says: This:is my beloved son,_in whom I am well;pleased,
Certainly if the Son were other than the Father, it would not be pos-
sible for the Father to be well pleased in the Son. What does it mean
to say, ”I am well pleased” except in the sense ”I am pleased with
myself, as regards myself,” hence, "I am well pleased with myself as
regards the Son”? Or when he says ;_§p;well pleased, is he demonstrat-
ing that he has an associate in his feeling of being pleased? That is,
in the same sense that the Father is well pleased in the Son, he is
also well pleased in the Holy Spirit. Perhaps I am wellgpleased is said

that we may understand that in the sense the Father is well pleased in

 

1+2Richard's Bible differed from the Vulgate, where all the pertinent
passages have coglacui .

,qp—W“

112

the Son, he is also very well pleased indeed with the Holy Spirit.

Which of these interpretations is the right one? Or are they all
to be understood, rather than a certain one of them in particular? Yet
these words are different and can be discriminated differently, even if
they are not quite adequate for communicating the profundity of the
mystery. However it is certain that whichever one of them is preferable,
it also confers unity of substance upon diversity of persons, if it is
rightly understood. For the statement this is my Sop shows the diversity
of persons: for he cannot be one and the same with himself, both Father
and Son at once. But what may be the interpretation of the relation of
one to the other: another in respect to person, the same in respect
to essence? If you seek an example, you will never find any in the created
world that will suffice: if you consult reason, all human reason pro-
tests. This statement is so far above human reckoning and outside human
reason that the reason will never accede to it unless faith lift it up
to certainty in the matter. So it is preper for the bearer to fall down
at the revelation of this mystery, and for sense to fail, and for human

reason to succumb,

LXXXIII. The mind that is used to standing in the secret place perceives
divine revelations.

It is preper for such revelation to be made only on the mountain,
nor should so profound sublimity nor so sublime profundity of this
mystery be made plain in the valley. Those who are still dwelling in
the lowland, in life or in thought, show themselves to be unworthy of

this generous favor. Therefore let man go up to a high heart: let him

 

113

go up onto that mountain, if he wishes to grasp those things, to know
those things, that are above human sense. Let him climb by means of
himself above the level of himself: by means of self knowledge to know-
ledge of God. Let man first learn what he ought to think about God by
thinking about the image of God: let him learn it first through the
likeness of God,

The ascent of the mountain, as I have said, has to do with self
knowledge: those things which go on on the top of the mountain lead
to the knowledge of God. There is no doubt that the former have to do
with Joseph, the latter with Benjamin. Joseph has to be born before
Benjamin. How is the mind which does not rise to consideration of its
own self going to fly on the wing of contemplation to the things that
are beyond it?

God descends upon this mountain, Moses ascends to it. The Lord
teaches about the building of the tabernacle on this mountain, Moses
learns of it. What is meant by the tabernacle of the covenant but the
state of perfection? Therefore the man who ascends the mountain, who
waits attentively, who seeks long, who finds out at length what sort
of a man he is, remains there to learn by divine revelation what sort
of man he ought to be, what sort of temple of the mind he should be
building for God, and with what religious observances he should be
pleasing him. Then when do you think the mind, which has hitherto been
scattered broadside over a variety of pleasures, which has been pulled
hither and thither by a variety of thoughts: when do you think it will
deserve to receive this grace? When will such a mind that has never

been able to center itself down, has never known how to withdraw into

11%

itself, when will it be able to rise through contemplation to the things

that are above it?

LXXXIV. How the mind that yearns for celestial contemplation ought to
center itself on its interior life.

So let a man learn to gather together the dispersed children of
Israel: let him strive to hold in check his wandering thoughts, let him
accustom himself to lingering long within himself, forgetting all ex-
ternal things, if he yearns for celestial contemplation and sighs after
an evidence of the divine. Let him make the church his study as well
as his delight, that he may learn to love the only good and to think
this only without ceasing: Bless ye God in the churches (Psalm LXVII,
26),”3 Benjamin is rapt into ecstasy in this double church of thought
and of desire, in this double single-mindedness of studies and of wills:
breathed upon by the breath of inspiration, the mind is raised up on
high: There is Benjamin a youth in ecstasy of mind (ibid., 28). Where
else but in the church, do you think? Bless ye God_in the churches,
even the Lord. from the fountain of Israel (ibid., 27).

There is Benjamin a youth, in ecstasy of mind. One has first to
make a synagogue of his thoughts and desires before he can make a church.
You well know that gypggpggg,means congregation, and church means £237
vocation. It is one thing to "drive together" into one place without
their will, or against their will, and another for them to "come together"

hh
voluntarily, in assent to someone's entreaty. Insensitive and brutish

 

‘43
AV: Congregations.

115

beings can be congregated, but they cannot be convoked. But a concourse
of even rational beings has to be voluntary in order to be correctly
called a convocation. Thus you see how great a difference there is
between convocation and congregation, and between church and synagogue.
If then you.perceive that your desires are fixed on exterior de-
lights. and your thoughts likewise are occupied with them, compel them
urgently to come in, that you can at least make a synagogue of them for
the time being. ZEach time that we gather our wandering thoughts together
and fix all the yearnings of our heart upon a single desire for the
eternal, do we not make a.synagogue of our interior household? But when
that throng of our desires and thoughts, enticed by a.sampling of in—
terior sweetness, has learned to run together willingly at the beck of
reason, and to stay fixed in interior privacy, then indeed it can be
called by the more worthy name of church. Then let us learn to love
only the interior good, let us learn to ponder on it alone, and when

we know we are fit to love Benjamin, doubtless we will form a church.

LXXIV. Hoprleasant and sweet it is to be familiar with the grace of
contemplation.

Since Benjamin loves to linger in such churches, is wonderfully
pleased, and cannot even contain himself for joy, he is drawn out above
himself, and elevated on high by ecstasy of mind. For unless our Ben-
jamin took such pleasure in rest, Moses could surely not have written

of him: The best belgved of the Lord shall dwell confidently in him:

 

He is playing, of course, on coggregare, to drive tOgether:
convocare, to call together.

~—‘

116

an in a.bride chamber shall he abide all the day long, and between his
shoulders shall be rest (Deuteronomy XXX, 2).M5 Why do you think this
Benjamin lingers all the day long in a.bride chamber, and also remains
there so that he does not want to come out even for a while? We know
that the bridegroom and the bride are accustomed to stay in the bride
chambers together, to be engrossed with each other in the rites of love,
to cherish one another in mutual embraces and reciprocal affection.
Hence, if I am not mistaken, a.sure omen of marvellous beauty and of
unique charm shows who is our Benjamin‘s beloved, whose companionship
can never become tiresome: nor does he wish to be absent from her em—
braces even for a.while. But if we know that it is the voice of our
Benjamin, we cannot doubt how beautiful is his beloved: I said to wis-
dom: Thou art my sister: and I called prudence my friend (Proverbs
v11, u).”6
Do you want to hear how the beauty of this beloved cannot become
boringa-this beloved whom he calls sister and friend, through his
chaste and most ardent affection? When I g9 into my house- I shgll.
rgpose myself with her: fog:her conversggion hgth_no bitterness, nor
her compgpy any tediousness. but joy and gladness. And there isggreat
dglLight in her friendshijp (Wisdom VIII, 16, 18). Let each one say what
he himself feels: then I will not seek any other reason why she holds
him so closely attached that he cannot go free even for a little. Still

I know one thing: whoever burns with desire for a friend like this

 

1+5D~R. AV entirely different.

6
My version. Neither AV nor’DLB.has this reading.

LL.

117

loves her all the more the better he knows her, and the oftener he
enjoys her embraces the more violently he is inflamed with desire.
Indeed, frequent intercourse has a way of increasing his desire rather
than decreasing it, and of causing love's conflagration to flare the
hotter.

Then it is no wonder why our Benjamin abides all the day long as
in a.bridechamber, since he enjoys the sweetness of such a.3pouse, and
resting between his shoulders she equally enjoys his love. How do you
think he endures such frequent ecstasies of mind, or being rapt so often
in transport, and taken out of himself? For he is astounded at her
great beauty, and elevated by wonder over her, and the saying about him
is surely fulfilled: There is Benjamin a.youth in ecstasy of mind.

It should be noted how the testimonies of the Scriptures are in
agreement. For what the PrOphet designates by the death of Rachel, and
the Evangelist by the falling down of the disciples, the Psalmist ex—

presses through Benjamin, in ecstasy of mind.

LXXXVI. 0f the two types of contemplation.

We can appropriately interpret the death of Rachel and the ecstasy
of Benjamin as two types of contemplation. There are, indeed, two types
of contemplation that are above the realm of reason, and they both con-
cern Benjamin. The first is above reason, but not outside it, while the
second is both above reason and outside reason. Those things are above
reason but not outside it, which cannot be investigated or controlled
by any exercise of reason, though they permit the existence of the reason.

But we call those things bothibove and outside reason which seem to run

118

counter to all human reason. Such are the beliefs we hold about the
unity of the Trinity: and many of those that we believe about the body
of Christ, on the indubitable authority of faith. No human reason can
cope with the idea of a three—fold person in a single simple nature,

or of one and the same body being able to be present in different places
at the same time. Certainly the entire power of reason seems to cry
out against statements of this kind.

These, then, are the two types of contemplation, one concerned with
the death of Rachel, the other with the ecstasy of Benjamin. In the
first Benjamin kills his mother, when he passes beyond reason: in the
second, however, he even passes outside of himself, when he transcends
the mode of human intelligence and reaches the plane in which knowledge
depends upon divine revelation. But this is to be marked not only in
Benjamin but also in all the brothers: indeed it should be diligently
noted in innumerable passages in Scripture, how Holy Scripture has a
way of sometimes extending the signification of a thing, or again restrict-
ing it, or even changing it. It has a way of fixing those modes of alten.
hating meanings in many ways, and of revealing its own sense sometimes
through a place, sometimes through an act, or through some other circum-
stances. Thus it is the plggg,that sets the meaning in the passage
where Benjamin is said to have gone down into Egypt, while it is the £33_
that does so when Joseph and Benjamin run to embrace each other, and

both kiss.

LXXXVII. How contemplation descends into meditation, and how medita»

tion rises into contemplation.

119

What does it mean for Benjamin to go down into Egypt? It is
simply to call back the attention of the mind from contemplation of the
eternal to contemplating the temporal, and to turn the beam of the in—
telligence down from the light of eternity (as though from the height
of heaven) all the way to the darkness of the world of mutability. It
is to weigh carefully the way of the divine judgments, and to penetrate
into it, to a great extent, in the midst of such a confusion of changing
things. And why do Joseph and Benjamin meet and kiss?

This means that meditation and contemplation often join together,
with the support of the reason. For generally speaking Joseph is to be
interpreted as the grace of meditation, just as Benjamin is to be inter-
preted as the grace of contemplation. Yet properly speaking, Benjamin
more accurately denotes pure intelligence, and Joseph true prudence.
Benjamin, that type of contemplation that has to do with invisible
things, and Joseph, that type of meditation that has to do with conduct.
If the comprehension of invisible things does indeed concern the pure
intelligence, circumspect conduct concerns true prudence. By pure
intelligence we mean that which is not mixed with imagination: by true
prudence we distinguish it from what is called prudence of the flesh.
True prudence has to do with acquiring, increasing and.preserving the
true good: prudence of the flesh has to do with transitory good, accord.
ing to which the children of this world are said to be wiser than the
children of light (Luke XVI, 8).

As often, then, as Joseph falls upon Benjamin‘s neck, so often
does meditation and in contemplation. Benjamin receives his brother

who runs to him when the mind rises to contemplation from the practice

120 '

of meditation. Benjamin and Joseph kiss each other when divine revelan
tion and the power of human reason agree in a single attestation of the
truth.

Do you not see how Holy Scripture alternates the mode of signifies,
tion of a single thing and how it adds something else, so that the sense
is not permitted to be obscure in respect to the whole? In the death
of Rachel contemplation rises above reason: in the entrance of Benjamin
into Egypt contemplation descends into the imagination: in the embrace

of Benjamin and Joseph, human reason is pleasing to divine revelation.

121

TEXTUAL EMENDATIONS

I have not noted the very frequent lapses of punctuation, nor those

that involve misnumbering of Scriptural passages. There are many such

errors as dilligere for diligere that it would be otiose to mention.

Some mistakes are due to editorial incompetence in reading manuscript

contractions:

e.g.. expanding of a shortened term into reverentia

instead of verecundia.

page

6

7
7

9
10

11
16
2h
26
3h

39
he

57
62
62

66
67
69
73
7s
79

79
so

80
82

83

line
9
16
12
15
3
5
17
2
20

3
8—10

supplying ut after ‘dil(l)igere
reading accgpit for acrgit

.222222222 for 223222222
“ secretaria for secretoria

“ intimi for intivi
" §;_for g;

“ plangit for plangis
" id est for in set

 

 

" gilecebrosas for illecebrosgg
“ judicium for indium
" omnis superfluae delectationis abstinentiam. aut

 

cuiuslibet corporglis afflictionis patientiam for
omnis superfluae delectationis, aut cuiuslibet
corporalis afflictionis abstinentiam velgpgdientiam
omitting Quasi, which seems to have been picked up from
the line above it
omitting tam..LQuam, which seem to have been picked up
from the line below ,
omitting one aliis, which must be dittographic
reading in mediis for in medius
reading victuram as a supposititious future participle of

vivere
” pudenda for prudenda
" fratris for fractis

supplying pgp_before voluerunt
reading pgp_for dgp
same for sanet
" gportuit for eportui
" semet for semen
" vigor for virgo

“ viggr for virgor
" verecundia for revera

" crescere for cressere

Page
an

at
sh

55
85

line

18

13
20

10

17
18

16
23
1n
15
an
an

17
20

25

122

reading sollicitudinis for sollitudinis
" ancipites for anticipes
omitting quando, and assuming an ablative absolute
reading imprudentem for impudentem
" imprudens for impudens
" propter quae veneras oblivisci, illa quae debueras
sola reminisci for illorumgproptergquae veneras
oblivisciL illa quorum oblivisgi_debueras 9012—
reminisci
reading maculasti for musculati (though it is tempting
to render: then muscledst thou in)
” ostendi for ostende
" 2112 for gun

 

” sive for sine

“ partis for par is
" cadit for eadit

' animi for amici

omittinglgg
reading vie for vul

 

 

 

” pi for g;
omitting the second nisi
” the second in Filio
reading misterium for ministerium (vide infra line 17)
" ggternantium for alternantiam
" determinatum for determinatur

 

 

" excipiat for excipia
N divina for divinae

123

APPENDIX A

Augustine, Contra Faustum Manichaeum, PL XLII, xciv—xcvi, col. N63~h6h
(This very important passage, part of a defense of the multipli-
city of Scriptural meaning against the heretics, shows why it is possible
to quote Augustine on both sides of the argument about the primacy of the

literal or allegorical interpretation. Note the cithara figure, which

Hugh of St. Victor reproduces, to slightly different effect, in APPENDIX

c.)

XCIV. So if we carefully study these particular passages in Scrip-
ture about which the heretics make their calumnious statements, if we
put the passages to the question, as it were, they show us that the
more obscure they seem, the more marvellous treasures of mysteries do
they conceal. This is all the more reason why the blasphemous mouths
of the impious should be mute, since they are stepped with the most
obvious truth against which, in their peevishness (praefocato spirits),
they cannot find any complaint.

Do these unhappy men prefer to choke over the manifest truth rather
than fill their stomachs with its sweetness? For all these things pro-
claim Christ,u7 that Head which now ascends into heaven and this Body
which labors to the end upon earth. Every birthspang of the writers

brought forth Scripture. One should not think that anything in the

 

h
7TypOIOgical interpretation.

“’1

12h

'

whole fabric of the prephetic books does not have some portent of future
things, except for what is put there for somehow binding together the
statements that predict this king and his people either literally or
figuratively.”8

Just as in the cithara and that sort of musical instruments, not
all the strings that are struck sound in the melodies, but certain ones
only (the others being built into the whole instrument so there can be
a means of controlling it, and places to stretch those strings that the
artist has to strike upon in creating his sweet music), so these pro-
phetic accounts, rooted fast in the prephetic spirit but concerning the
actual deeds of men, resound with portent of future happenings, or,
if there is no such meaning. they are placed there so there may be a
means of connecting the significant and resounding passages.

XCV. If the heretics are unwilling to accept our exposition of the
allegorical narration of these things, or contend that they signify
nothing except what they literally state?9 there is no arguing with them
who say, ”It doesn‘t taste in my mouth the way you say it tastes in
yours." While those divinely inspired precepts are believed or thought
either to shape moral and.pious behavior, or to have a figurative signif-
icance, or either of these rather than neither one, at the same time

even the things that are believed to have been said or done figuratively

 

8

Note that literally, as here used, would mean typological, not
historical. Portent of future things could be applied either anagogical-
ly or typologically.

h
9Proprie sonant.

125

should bear upon the same good customs and pious behavior,50 Thus even
if our interpretation or theory or opinion of these symbols of events51
is displeasing to the Manichees or anyone else, let it suffice them
that our forefathers, to whom God asseverated his testimony by his good
life and by obedience to their laws, maintained those true precepts.
This fact cannot displease any but those with depraved and perverted
minds. Let it also suffice them that Scripture, which is hateful to
them in the perversity of their error, remains inculpable and worthy

of reverence no matter what human deeds it portrays, whether it praise
or confute them or present them for our own just appraisal.

XCVI. What could be more useful or beneficial to those who rever—
ently read or hear Scripture. as regards counsel or future outlook52
than that it lay before them not only praiseworthy men for emulating
and reprehensible ones as a warning, but even certain backslidings of
good men, and lapses into sin, whether the men mend their ways again,
or remain hepelessly lost? Or what better than certain changes of heart
in evil men, and their progress into the good life, whether they persist
in it, or relapse into their former state? Thus neither the righteous
are exalted to pride by their complacency, nor the wicked hardened
against any remedy by their desperation. Is not this beneficial?

As for those deeds which do not bear upon either emulation or

 

50That is, the tropological has an allegorical significance, and
the allegorical a trepological.

5lFiguris rerum_gestarum,

2
5 Its trop010gical and anagOgical uses.

126

avoidance, and yet are found in Scripture, they are either there with
reference to a possible future use?3 or the very fact that they seem
superfluous is sufficient warning that we have to seek in them some
pronouncement5h of mystical signification. Nor do I speak of those
books in which nothing, or only a little, or not too much is clearly
proclaimed in a prephetic spirit, for in such portentous55 matters,
they proclaim the divine authority with the most faithful and candid
truth, so that anyone who thinks they are said either superfluously or
fatuously is completely mad. In these passages such a.man might have
seen not only all the deeds of superior men set forth, but also a

prOphecy concealed from them, and a means of knowing the past.

 

53Quibus occasionibus ad res necessarias veniatur.

51(Oraculum.

55Impletis.

127

APPENDIX B

Isidore of Seville, Differentiarum Libri Duo, PL LXXXIII, xxxiv, col.90—9l,
(The mediaeval encyclOpaedist discusses the active and contem—

plative lives in allegorical terms derived from Ambrose and Augustine,

and later to be used by Richard of St. Victor. Isidore‘s works were so

generally used and widely available that it is safe to assume almost any

scholar had access to them. Note the emphasis here upon the necessity

of both ways of life: the St. Victorines and St. Bernard will repeat

this emphasis.)

There is this distinction between the active and contemplative
life: the active life is that which is directed toward works of right-
eousness and the benefit of one's neighbor: the contemplative, that
which, free of all business, is fixed solely upon the love of God.

One of them is occupied with the carrying on of a good way of life, the
other with contemplation of immutable truth. One lives by faith in
this state of pilgrimage, the other leads to the kingdom those who live
well.

The rewards of the active life are great, but those of the contem-
plative are greater. The active life begins in good works: the contem—
‘plative arrives where it is going. The works of the active life termi-
nate with the body, while the joys of the contemplative increase at the
end. The former, though useful and good, will pass away when rest

comes: the latter is the true reward of good works that pass away, and

128

it is a rest that will endure.

The contemplative life is demonstrated by Rachel, who was beautiful
but barren, because not so many children of good works are borne in
the repose of contemplation. Leah, eyeless but fertile, represented
the active life, because action is indeed troublesome, and less highly
regarded. But because it proves more beneficial to one's neighbor in
its good works, it grows more fertile in deeds, as if in sons...

Then those who strive to gain the repose of contemplation should
first exercise themselves in the race—course of active life, that when
the works of justice have destroyed the sinful appetites56 they may
show a clean heart for the seeing of God. The mind which still seeks
for worldly glory, or yields to the temptations of fleshly desire, is
surely debarred from contemplation...

There is sometimes a great difference between souls in the very
practice of contemplation and action. For to some only contemplation
is profitable, and to some only the active life is a comfort. The
middle course, made up of both modes of life, is much more beneficial
for restoring the exhausted spirit. This is a course which is usually
strengthened by simplicity of intention, that the spirit may be better
controlled from both sides.

The fact that the Saviour shone forth in the city by day through
signs and miracles, recommended the active life to us. The fact that
he passed the night on the mountain in watching and prayer, signified

the life of contemplation.

 

56Dum opera justitiae faeces_peccatorum exhauriunt.

129

Then the service of God and imitation of Christ does not lose
sight of daily life, and carries on the contemplative life. Neglect
of either is a fault. As God is to be loved in contemplation, so one‘s
neighbor is to be cherished in daily life. And just as we cannot live

without both kinds of life, we cannot live without both kinds of love.

130

APPENDIX 0

Hugh of St. Victor, De Scripturis et Scriptoribus Sacris Prae-
nqtgtiunculae, PL CLXXV, iii, col. 11.

(This incisive defense of the primacy of the literal meaning is
written by Richard's teacher, the philosopher of the St. Victorine
school, who was himself a skillful user of allegory. In the Middle
Ages one finds such condemnations of the abuse of allegory, but not

of its use.)

III. On the three-fold meaning of Holy Scripture.

Sacred writing is set forth in accordance with a three-fold meaning.
The first interpretation is historical, in which there is considered
the prime signification of the words, as concerns the things they dis-
cuss. For sacred writing has a certain property different from other
writing, as in it certain things are discussed through the words that
are spoken, and these things in turn are presented in the place of words
to expound the signification of other things. It is called history from
the Greek word \iiflnhflfi L historeo, which means l_ggg, and I tell, ben
cause among the ancients it was not allowed to write about anything a
man had not himself seen, lest falsity be mixed with truth by the writer's
sin in saying more, or less, or otherwise. Accordingly it is called
history properly and in the strict sense: but it is likely to be taken

more broadly, inasmuch as history is called the sense which applies

first of all to things on the basis of the signification of the words.

131

The second interpretation is allegorical. It is called allegory
when some other fact, either past, present or future, is meant by the
signification set forth in the letter. Allegory is said to be a sort
of ”alien speech'fi,7 because one thing is said and another intended, and
it is subdivided into simple allegory and anagogy. It is simple alle—
gory when some other visible58 fact is signified by a visible fact.
Anagogy is a leading upward, when an invisible fact is declared through
a visible one.

Let me give an example of this three-fold meaning. There was a
man in the land of Hus, by name Job, who had formerly been rich but had
come to such misery that he sat on the dunghill and scratched the gore
from his body with a potsherd. The literal meaning is evident. Let us
go on to the allegory, to consider the things that are signified by
means of the things signified in the words, and the fact signified by
the fact. .

Job, then, which is interpreted suffering, signifies Christ, who,
first in the treasures of his father's glory, and coequal with him,
condescended to our misery, and sits in humility Upon the dunghill of

this world, sharing in all our defects except sin.59 Let us then inquire

 

57A11enoloquium,

58Reading visibile for invisibile.

59This is the typolOgical or allegorical in the strict sense, with
Old Testament Job equated with New Testament Christ.

 

4‘)

132

what is intended there should be done by virtue of this fact: that is,
what ought to happen.60 Job can signify any just or penitent soul that
heaps up in its memory a dunghill of all the sins it has committed, and
sitting down upon it and meditating (not just for the moment, but
perseveringly), does not cease to weep. And the literal facts which
represent this sort of spiritual significances are called examples

(sacramentao.

IV. Not all the things that are found in sacred scripture are to be
forced into this threefold interpretation, but only certain ones.

Indeed not all things that are found in Scripture are to be twisted
into this threefold interpretation, where each particular one is believed
to contain history, allegory and trepology at once. Even if they can
be appropriately assigned in many instances, yet it is either difficult
or impossible to observe them everywhere. Just as in the cithara and
other musical instruments of that sort, not all of the melodious strings
make a sound, but some of the total number are put into the body of the
cithara so there may be a.means of connecting and stretching those
others which the artist is to play upon in his sweet music: so some
things are put into Scripture which should be understood spiritually:

some serve the purpose of weightiness: and then to be sure there are

 

60This is the trepological or moral meaning. He seems not to have

given the three meanings he intended, but to have substituted the type.
logical for the anagogical.

61See the interesting array of meanings for sacramentum in Souter‘s
Glossggy.

 

 

F’V

133

some which can be eXpounded historically, allegorically and trepolo-

gically.62

V. How the literal and historical interpretation is necessary.

Then since the spiritual meaning is only gathered from those pass-
ages which the literal meaning first prepounds, I wonder at the impudence
with which certain teachers keep boasting about allegories when they
are still ignorant of the first signification of the letter.

"We read Scripture," they say, "but we do not read the letter.

We don't care about the letter: we teach the allegory.”

How do you read Scripture, then, if you do not read the letter?
If the letter is taken away, what is Scripture?

"We read the letter," they say, "but not according to the letter.
For we read the allegory, and we eXpound the letter not according to
the letter, but according to the allegory.”

What does it mean to eXpound the letter except to show what the
letter means?

"But the letter," they say, "means one thing according to the
historical sense, and another according to the allegory. Lg2,does indeed
signify a beast according to the historical sense, and it signifies
Christ according to allegory: therefore this word, L29, signifies
Christ.”

Now I ask you who affirm this, why Leo should signify Christ?

 

6‘QThe cithara figure is copied almost word for word from Augustine:
see Appendix A.

13h

Perhaps you reply, as this sort of reply usually goes, "Because
the likeness is apprOpriate to the signification of the thing preposed,
for the lion sleeps with its eyes Open,“ or some such remark. "There-
fore the lion signifies Christ, because it sleeps with its eyes Open.”63

80 you have said that this word L33 signifies Christ, because it
sleeps with its eyes Open. Either retract the statement you have made
or change the reason you.have appended. For either it is a false state-
ment that this word.ng,signifies Christ, or the reason you have appended
is false: thatngg signifies Christ because it sleeps with its eyes
open. For the Eggg,does not sleep with its eyes Open, but the animal
that the word signifies. You must know, then, that when the lion is
said to signify Christ, not the name of the animal but the animal itself
is signified. It is this which is said to sleep with its eyes Open,
and in accordance with a certain similitude represents him who, in the
slumber of the death he had undertaken to suffer, slept as regards his
humanity, but had his eyes Open, waking as regards his divinity.

Then do not boast about the meaning of Scripture as long as you

are ignorant of the letter. To be ignorant of the letter is to be

ignorant of what the letter signifies, and of what is signified in the

 

63.Hugh is protesting against the sort of worrying of the text that
Origen often perpetrates. In In Genesim Homilia XVII he spent some
fifty lines in glossing the catulus leonis Judah passage in the ”Bene—
dictions of Jacob," Genesis XLIX, 9. Among other authorities for call—
ing Christ a lion's cub of the tribe of Judah, he cites Aristotle to
prove that the birth of the lion goes against the normal course of
nature just as does the birth of Christ. I spare the reader all but
a phrase: Catulus Christus non solum trepice verum etiamgphysice
designatug; Christ is a lion's cub not only figuratively but even
physically (or naturally).

 

135

literal sense. For what is signified by the first, the third signifies.
Then since the things which the letter signifies are signs of spiritual

meaning, how can they be signs for you, when they have not yet signified
anything to you?

Do not make a leap, then, lest you fall over a.precipice. He pro—
ceeds most correctly who proceeds in due order. First take pains, in
your reading, to set in order the concept of the things that Scripture
propounds to you for their spiritual meaning, that from them you may
gather up a type of knowledge for later meditation, which you may use
snalOgously either for edification of the faith, or for instruction in
good habits.

”But everything cannot be read literally, or fittingly interpreted
that way,” they say. ”For when the Prephet says that he saw the river
of fire coming out from under the throne of God, and claims there were
some sort of animals with wings and eyes flying around and clamoring
(Daniel VII, Esechiel I), and a lot more along this line, it is certainly
fitting to accept some of these statements that Scripture makes liter-
ally, and to understand some of them figuratively.“

They say this, as if we thought that everything that is stated
literally were to be entirely accepted in that sense, and nothing else
were to be understood in the statements, since what is there present

is not said literally, but is signified by means of what the letter

 

1"That is, what is actually narrated in the literal, or first,
sense, has an additional meaning in the third, or typologicaluallegor-
ical sense. The passage uses the active significat for the latter, the
passive siggificatur for the former.

136

says. For in what is received in the figurative sense, the letter is
granted to have its own meaning. Since what is said is not said in
that way, we claim it has to be understood, and we affirm that it was
said in some kind of sense. Then something is being stated and signi-
fied apart from the literal meaning,65 when the statement is not under-
stood in the same sense in which it was made, but something else is
signified than is said by it. Thus there is certainly something stated
and signified apart from the literal meaning, and the first meaning to
be considered is that which is signified apart from the literal meaning,
so that whatever is afterwards signified by means of it may be under-
stood.66

We desire the reader to be warned to this extent, lest perchance
he may despise these first rudiments of doctrine. Nor should he think

6
of slighting the idea 7

of these things that Scripture propounds to us
through the first signification of the letter, as being something that.
the Holy Spirit has painted for our carnal senses (that are only capable
of grasping invisible things by means of visible ones) like images68 of
mystical meanings, so to speak: or as if it had allegorized69 a clear

demonstration of things that are to be spiritually understood, through

 

50r apart from the letter: a littera.
66
That is, there are occasions when the literal meaning yields
the primacy to an allegorical sense. The paragraph is an extremely
difficult one.

67Notitiam.

137

the likenesses that are set before us.

Now if we ought to pass over immediately from the literal meaning
to that which has to be taken spiritually, as these men claim, the
figures and likenesses of the things that train the mind to apprehend
the spiritual will have been inserted in vain into Holy Scripture by
the Holy Spirit. As the Apostle said, that which is of the flesh is
first. then that which is of the spirit (I Corinthians xv, 1+6). As for
the very wisdom of God, the power of the purblind intellect could never
be illumined for the spiritual contemplation of it, unless this wisdom

71 by bodily means.

had first been grasped
Therefore do not despise humility in the word of God, since through
humility you are illumined for the divine. All this that the word of
God contains in an outward sense seems to you like mud, and.perhaps you
even spurn it with your feet, as being mud, and contemn the facts that
the literal meaning tells you in a bodily and visible sense. But hear
this: by means of this mud that is spurned by your feet, the eye of
the blind man was illumined so that he might see (John IX).72
Read Scripture, then, and first learn diligently what is told in

bodily terms. If you zealously impress upon your mind the form of

 

70He is warning the reader against considering the literal sense
to be valid only as a sure approach to spiritual meaning. This would
ultimately mean an annihilation of the literal. The Victorine tradi-
tion is not altogether Platonic in this respect, having a regard to
the dignity of the external world in its own right. Things are things
as well as vestigia.

71Cogpita.

72'1‘he literal meaning of Scripture receives a trepological defense.

138

these things in accordance with the context of the story as given, you
will then in your meditation suck73 as though from a honeycomb the sweet

of the spiritual meaning.

 

73Reading sages for fuges.

139

APPENDIX D

Middle English Synapsis of the Benjamin Minor, Houghton Library
MS Richardson 22, Harvard College (de Ricci p. 961).

(The beginning of this treatise will illustrate the use that was
made in English of Richard's work. As far as I read in the MS, being
pressed for time, it was practically identical with that in the printed
Pepwell edition of 1521. See Introduction for further information on
the English Treatise. This MS is entitled: St.:éggustinus Meditacions
gnd Confession in Englysshe;_Tretise that men callip Richard of seynt
Victor. The Benjamin portion takes up folios 52, v. 1 to 68, v. 1.

The volume is lath century vellum, the dialect East Midland.)

Here bygynnipp a tretise pat men callip Richard of Seynt Victor

.L grete clerks p§t_men callip Richard of seynt Victor in a boke
bet he makyp of be study of wysdome witnessip and seyp pat two myhtis
are in a.mannys sowle 3euyn of be fader of hevyn of whom all gods
comyp pat one is reson pat opg; is affecioun. porwe resogp‘we knows
and.porwe affeciogp.we loue. Of resoun springip rigt counsayle and
gostli wittis. Of affecigngspringip holi desiris and ordeynyd felinges
and riht as Rachel and.Lya were boop wyves unto Jacob. Riht so mannys
sowle for liht of knowynge in pe resggp_and swetnes of love in pa af-
fectiggp_is spousyd in to god. By Jacob is understonde god. Bi rachel

resoun and by Lia.is understonde affectioun. Apper of pass wives rachel

n+0

and lya tokyn hym a mayden. Rachel toke bala and lya toke selpha

bala was a grete iangeler. and jelpha was egg; drunkyn and pristi. By
bala is understondin imagynaciogg,pe whiche is servaunt to resopp_as
bala to Rachel. Bi 3elpha is understondyn sensualite pe whiche is
servaunt unto affectiggp_as 3elpha was to lya. In so moche are peso
maydenys nedefull to pass ladies pat wip owtyn hem all pie worlde myht
seruyn hgm’of nauht. ffor whi wip owte (53r) emaginaciogg,Resopp_may
nat knowe and wipowte sensualite affeciogp may nat fele. And 3it
ymaginaciogg.criep so unconvenabli in pa eris of owre herte. pat far
awht pat resopp_here lady may do 3it sche may nat stylle here. and
perfor is it pat ofte tymes when we preys so many sere fantasies of

yvel pouhtis cryen in owre eris pat on none wyse we may be owre

mi3htis dryven hgm_awey. And pp£_it is wel prgyyyd pat Bala is a

fowle iangeler. and also sensualite is evermore so pristi pat alle

pat affectigpg.here ladi may fele may nat Bit slakyn her pryst. pe
drynke pat sche desirip is he lusts of flescheli kyndely and worldly
delitis of'pe whiche evggmore pe more sche drinkyp pe more sche pristip.
ffor whi for to fulfill pe appetite of )e sensualite all pis worlde

may nat suffise. And perfore it is pat ofte tyme pat whanne we prays

or penke on god and gostly pinges. we wolde fayne fele sweteness of

love in owre affectigpp,and 3it may we nat. so are we besy to fade

pe concupiscence of owre sensualite. ffor evermore it is gredeli askynge
and we have a flescly compassiogp_per of. And pum it wel previp. jelpha
(53v) is drunkyn and pristi and riht as lya conseyvyd of Jacob and browht
forp viJ childryn and (3elpha?) conseyvyd of Jacob and browht forp two

childnrn and Rachel conseyvyd of Jacob and browht forp two childrin Bala

1M1

conseyvyd of Jacob and browht forp two childryn. Riht so be affeddgug
conseyvip porw‘pe grace of god, and bringip forp vii vertues and also
pe sensualite conseyvip porw'pe grace of god and bringip forp two
vertues. And also p resgpp.conseyvip porw pe grggg,of god and bringip
forpe two vertues and also be imaginaciggp conseyvip porw pe grace of
god and bringip ferp twoo vertues or two biholdynges and pe names of
pese children and pass vertues schal ben knowen be pie figure.pat

folwip here after. In schewynge.

(There follows a genealogical table).

1M2

APPENDIX E

Alanus de Insulis, Omnis Eggo Foenum (PL CCX, col. 579)

(To illustrate the intensity and compression of style of Mediaeval
Latin, I print this poem of Richard's contemporary, Alan of Lille.
Note that Richard's own style, as discussed in the Introduction, approaches
the elevation of this. I omit the last verses of the original poem in
Migne, as does Baby in his Christian Latin Poetry, p. 302. My transla-
tion, which follows the poem, preserves the original rhyme—scheme and

meter).

Omnis mundi creature
quasi liber et picture
nobis est, et speculum:
nostrae vitae, nostrae mortis,
nostrae status, nostrae sortis,
fidele signaculum.

nostrum statum pingit rosa,
nostri status decens glosa,
nostrae vitae lectio:
quae dum prime mane floret,
defloratus flos effloret,
vespertino senio.

ergo spirans flos expirat,

in pallorem dum delirat,
oriendo moriens.

simul vetus et novella,

simul senex et puella,
rosa marcet oriens.

sic aetatis ver humane
iuventutis primo mane
reflorescit paululum.
mane tamen hoc excludit
vitae vesper, dum concludit
vitale crepusculum.

1143

cuius decor dum perorat

eius decus mox deflorat
aetas, in qua defluit.

fit flos foenum, gemma lutum,

homo cinis, dum tributum
huic morti tribuit.

All the universe created
is with meaning fully freighted:
mankind's picture, book and glass:
our condition's truest token,
symbol of our status broken,
life and death through which we pass.

Commentary, rose's glory

mirrors our collective story
speaking home to everyone:

early dawn, the blossom quickens:

ripe and ruined, next it sickens
aged with the aging sun.

Pallid flower, while breathing, dying,
youth and eld within it vying,

rots while barely come to birth.
Mortal pallor o‘er it creeping,
bag and virgin, it is weeping,

springs and turns again to earth.

Thus man's vernal generation

blooms afresh in youth‘s creation,
flower of a transient sun:

while life's evening, all too early,

kills the blossom surely, surely,
when its little day is done.

Eloquent enticing graces,
while they charm, old age defaces,
age, in which they ebb away.
Flower is grass, and sapphire slime now,
man, turned ashes, pays to time now
tribute every man must pay.

(It goes without saying that this is in the great mediaeval tradition
of the unity of truth: that the roses are vestigia. evidence of the

Creator's work, and at the same time a memento mori).

   

WilliMilitias