RELEASED FROM HIS INTELLECTUAL DISEASE by his acceding to Nature's guidance, the poet in Alan de Lille's De Planctu Naturae sings a paean of praise to Nature in Sapphic meter.
 

After this hymn of praise, the poet asks Nature a series of questions, questions that Nature will later answer. Nature had her plaint, now the poet as a representative of mankind, has his own pleading. At this stage, he asks her a series of questions.
 

We do not often see the results of our moral corruption to the order of Nature, or perhaps better said, we ignore them. And Nature gently chastises our poet for not knowing what he drawn her to the "common brothels of earth" (vulgaria terrenorum lupanaria). The moral corruption, specifically the homosexual activity witnessed by the poet with which the poem began, is an intrinsic disorder from the order of Nature, one that affects its workings every bit as much as if the earth deviated from its rotation. It bespeaks of carelessness on the part of the caretakers of the world, an act of injustice against justice. It ought to be no surprise to see Nature there wishing order to be be imposed, her law to be followed, her rule conformed to.

All things, Nature explains, are under her rule. All but man is under a rule of strict compliance. Man alone has freedom and must freely or voluntarily submit to Nature's rule, the deviation from which he intrinsically finds noxious or injurious to him. Man is Nature's anomaly. He alone can deviate from Nature, even though it is noxious or injurious to him.

 

It is in view of the current abuses of the sexual faculties among men that Nature has traveled down from heaven to pay a visit to the poet, and which forms the central part of her complaint.

For this reason, then, did I leave the secreted abode of the kingdom in the heavens above and come down to this transitory and sinking world so that I might lodge with you, as my intimate and confidant, my plaintive lament for the accursed excesses of man, and might decide, in consultation with you, what kind of penalty should answer such an array of crimes so that conformable punishment, meting out like for like, might repay in kind the biting pain inflicted by tghe above-mentioned misdeeds.

Ideo enim a supernis coelestis regiae secretariis egrediens, ad hujus caducae terrenitatis occasum deveni, ut de exsecrabilibus hominum excessibus, tecum quasi cum familiari et secretario meo, querimoniale lamentum exponerem, tecumque decernerem, tali criminum oppositioni, qualis poenae debeat dari responsio: ut praedictorum facinorum morsibus coaequata punitio, poenae talionem remordeat.

 

MONDAY, JUNE 7, 2010

Nature's Complaint: Alan of Lille's The Plaint of Nature, Part 6

 

MEN WHO DISREGARD THE GRAMMAR OR THE LOGIC OF SEXUALITY, that is, the ratio ordinis inherent in Nature's plan, deserve to be punished. This is the reason that Nature left her heavenly abode and appeared to the poet in the "transitory and sinking world." The complaint that Nature has filed against mankind seeks for its relief a penalty, one commensurate or proportionate to the array of mankind's sexual crimes.

But the poet has another question for the "mediatrix in all things," the rerum omnium mediatrix that Nature is under God's order. He harbors some doubt, and wishes it addressed. Why does Nature take mankind to task, and not address the sexual aberration among the Greek gods? What about Jupiter and his love for his young Phrygian cup bearer Ganymede? What about Apollo, who loved the youths Hyacinthus and and Cyparissus? And Bacchus, and his proclivities to young transvestites?
 

Nature detects the psychological defense mechanism of rationalization behind her interlocutor's reference to the poets, and it draws the same response as one might see in Plato, who banished the poets from his ideal Republic. It is the excuse of Byblis, who sought thereby to justify her lawless love for her brother, Caunus, which, unfulfilled, caused her in her pining desire to turn into a spring. "If the gods do these things," goes the rationalization, "why not me?" (Moderns have transmuted the excuse from immortal gods to mortal celebrities, but the thought process is the same.) Poets, like television programs or modern newscasters, are not to be trusted, and no credence is to be given to their "shadowy figments," their figmentis umbratilibus. The poets are, in fact, deceitful:
 

Do you not know how the poets present falsehood, naked and without the protection of covering, to their audience so that, by a certain sweetness of honeyed pleasure, they may, so to speak, intoxicate the bewitched ears of the hearers? Or, how they cover falsehood with a kind of imitation of probability so that, by a presentation of precedents, they may seal the minds of men with a stamp from the anvil of shameful tolerance?

An ignoras, quomodo poetae sine omni palliationis remedio, auditoribus nudam falsitatem prostituunt, ut quadam mellita dulcedine velut incantatas audientium aures inebrient? Quomodo ipsam falsitatem quadam probabilitatis hypocrisi palliant, ut per exemplorum imagines, hominum animos moriginationis incude sigillent?

 

(One can suppose that Hollywood and modern television have taken the socially corrosive role of the ancient Pagan poets. Modernly, these fulfill the same deconstructive role the poets of old that Nature (like Plato) execrates. They artificially palliate the conscience of its sin with soma not sacrament, they justify it, they give it the appearance of good, they avoid any mention of its social or moral consequences. They present sin as viable choice, as a valid preference, or legitimate and individual self-expression. They bewitch many an ignorant to step into the life of moral fog that smells, if one retained one's sense of smell, like the burnings of human refuse at Gehenna. Using Tertullian's words, these are the new Pagan pompa diaboli et daemoniorum, the pomps of the devil and his demons. But to get back to Alan of Lille . . .)

Nature observes that the poets have no place in contemporary (then medieval) life, since shed are the philosophies and heresies that falsely touted pleasure and lies, and thereby hid from their followers the one true God. "Over these statements" of the past, "I draw the cloud of silence . . . .":

For since the dreams of Epicurus are now put to sleep, the insanity of [the heresiarch] Manichaeus healed, the subtleties of Aristotle made clear, the lies of Arrhius [the heretic Arius] belief, the reason proves the unique unity of God, the universe proclaims it, faith believes it, Scripture bears witness to it. No stain forces its way to Him, no baneful vice makes an assault on Him, no impulse of temptation is associated with Him. He is the bright light that never fades (splendor nunquam deficiens), the life that never tires or dies (vita indefessa, non moriens), the fountain that ever flows (fons semper scaturiens), the seed-plot supplying the seed of life (seminale vitae seminarium), the principle principle of wisdom (apiens principale principium), the original origin of good (initiale bonitatis initium).

The poet has other questions, and Nature welcomes them. Harking back to her tunic, he asks why some parts of her tunic, which one would expect to "approximate the interweave of a marriage," are rent, precisely where man's picture ought to be. (For a description of the robe and its torn fabric, see Part 2 of this series.)

The tears in Nature's tunic represent the assault on Nature herself by man. Their vices against Nature, which are nothing other than the "chaos of ultimate dissension," maximum chaos dissensionis, is a form of violence. They commit violence against Nature herself, and she who should be honored is thus stripped and treated as a harlot. "This is the hidden meaning symbolized by this rent--that the vesture of my modesty suffers the insults of being torn off by injuries and insults from man alone."

The poet then is interested in knowing "what unreasonable reason, what indiscreet discretion, what indirect direction forced man's little spark of reason to become so inactive that, intoxicated by a deadly draught of sensuality, he not only became an apostate from your laws, but even made unlawful assaults on them." What has caused man to act so against order?

To answer the question, Nature requires the poet to inflame his reason, to focus his attention, and to understand that Nature intends to use words that are not vulgar or uncouth. Nature then describes, in terms of the marital relationship, the relationship between God and his Ideas and the creation of the Universe ex nihilo, from out of nothing pre-existing. Out of nothing, in accordance with His eternal ideas, God brought forth numerous species, and he separated them from, or tempered them of, chaotic strife, "by agreement from [i.e., congruency with] law and order," legitimi ordinis congruentia temperavit.

He imposed laws on them.
Leges indidit.

He bound them by sanctions.
Sanctionibus alligavit.

By a tension of opposites he created harmony with a "fine chain of an invisible connection," subtilibus . . . invisibilis juncturae catenis, God made it so that there would be in a peaceable union "plurality [to strive back] to unity, diversity to identity, discord to concord." All things were so related as to be veritably wed to one another as if in a relationship of lawful marriage.

When the artisan of the universe had clothed all things in the outward aspect befitting their natures and had wed them to one another in the relationship of lawful marriage, it was His will that by a mutually related circle of birth and death transitory things should be given stability by instability, endlessness by endings, eternity by temporariness and that the series of things should ever be knit be successive renewals of birth. He decreed that by the lawful path of derivation by propagation, like things, sealed with the stamp of manifest resemblance, should be produced from like.

Sed postquam universalis artifex universa suarum vultibus naturarum investivit, omniaque sibi invicem legitimis proportionum connubiis maritavit, volens ut nascendi, occidendique mutuae relationis circuitu per instabilitatem stabilitas, per finem infinitas, per temporabilitatem aeternitas rebus occiduis donaretur, rerumque series seriata reciprocatione nascendi jugiter texeretur, statuit, ut expressae conformationis monetata sigillo, sub derivandae propagationis calle legitimo, ex similibus similia educerentur

God, the Creator of all things, appointed Nature his substitute (sui vicariam), the manager of God's mint in charge of stamping and molding each thing in its image, so that "the face of the copy should spring from the countenance of the exemplar and not be defrauded of any of its natural gifts," operando quasi varia rerum sigillans cognata ad exemplaris rei imaginem exempli exemplans effigiem, ex conformibus conformando conformia, singularum rerum reddidi vultus sigillatos.

 

 

Yet this God, which is the Creator, is not the distant God of the Deist, but the God of near Providence. Nature's work was constantly monitored, "guided by the finger of the superintendent on high," supremi dispositoris digito regeretur. Nature was therefore God's agent, and Nature took another as sub-agent, a subvicaria, a "sub-delegated artisan," subministratori artificis. This was none other than Venus who, with the aid of Hymenaeus her spouse, and Desire [Cupid], her son, would help in the reproduction of the animal life on earth, "fitting her artisan's hammer to the anvil according to rule," which would thereby "maintain an unbroken linkage in the chain of the human race lest it be severed by the hands of the Fates and suffer damage by being broken apart." Nature was thereby to spend time in the ethereal regions in the calm of her palace.

Or so was the plan.

The poet now chuckles (even laughs like the superannuated Sarah did at overhearing that she, at her age, would bear a child to Abraham) at the mention of Desire, for he recognizes its universal power and dominion over all mankind, truly a non-respecter of persons, and he perhaps too emboldened wishes to have a better description of this Desire. The poet receives a stinging rebuke from Nature:

 

I believe that you are a soldier drawing pay in the army of Desire and are associated with him by some kind of brotherhood arising from deep and close friendship. For you are eagerly trying to trace out his inextricably labyrinth when you should rather be directing your attention of mind more closely to the account enriched by the wealth of my ideas. However, since I sympathise with your human frailty, I consider myself bound to eliminate, as far as my modest power allow, the darkness of your ignorance before the course of my narrative goes on to what follows next in order.

Tunc illa, cum temperato capitis motu, verbisque increpationem spondentibus, ait: Credo te in Cupidinis castris stipendiarie militantem, et quadam interfamiliaritatis germanitate eidem esse connexum: inextricabilem etenim ejusdem labyrinthum affectanter investigare conaris, cum potius meae narrationi sententiarum locupletatae divitiis, mentis attentionem attentius adaptare deberes. Sed tamen antequam ad sequentia meae orationis evadat excursus, quia tuae humanitatis imbecillitati compatior, ignorantiae tuae tenebras, pro meae possibilitatis volo modestia exstirpare.

And so it is that Nature, bound by a vow and promise to answer the poet's questions, with describe the indescribable, define the undefinable, demonstrate the indemonstrable, extricate the inextricable, delimit that which is without limit, explain something that is, by nature, inexplicable, try to teach doctrine that is unknowable. In short, with reason to elaborate on the unreasonable: Desire, the concupiscent cupidity of Cupid, child of the unmanageable Venus.

 

TUESDAY, JUNE 8, 2010

Nature's Complaint: Alan of Lille's The Plaint of Nature, Part 7

 

NATURE ANSWERS THE POET'S QUERY regarding the nature of Desire with a poem in elegiac meter. Desire (cupido) or cupidity is equated with love (amornot caritas), and its largely irrational character is emphasized by the paradoxes through which it operates and in which it seems to relish. Nature ends her description of Desire on some practical advice on how to avoid Venus and her child, Desire.


 

Love is peace joined to hatred, Loyalty to treachery, Hope to fear and madness blended with reason. It is sweet shipwreck, light burden, pleasing Charybdis, Sound debility, insatiate hunger, hungry satiety, thirst when filled with water,deceptive pleasure, happy sadness, joy full of sorrow, delightful misfortune, unfortunate delight, sweetness bitter to its own taste. Its odour is savoury, Its savour is insipid. It is a pleasing storm, a lightsome night, a lightless day, a living death, a dying life, a pleasant misery, pardonable sin, sinful pardon, sportive punishment, pious misdeed, nay, sweet crime, changeable pastime, unchangeable mockery, weak strength, stationary movable, mover of the stationary, irrational reason, foolish wisdom, gloomy success, tearful laughter, tiring rest, pleasant hell, gloomy paradise, delightful prison, spring-like Winter, wintry Spring, misfortune. It is a hideous worm of the mind which the one in royal purple feels and which does not pass by the simple cloak of the beggar. Does not Desire, performing many miracles, to use antiphrasis, change the shapes of all mankind? Though monk and adulterer are opposite terms, he forces both of these to exist together in the same subject. When his fury rages, Scylla lays aside her fury and Nero begins to be the good Aeneas, Paris sword flashes, Tydeus grows soft with love, Nestor becomes a youth, Milcerta becomes an old man. Thersites begs Paris for his beauty and Davus begs the beauty of Adonis, who is totally transfromed into Davus. The wealthy Croesus is in need; Codrus, the beggar, abounds in wealth. Bavius produces poems, Maro's muse grows dull; Enius makes speeches and Marcus is silent. Ulysses becomes foolish, Ajax in his madness grows wise. The one who formerly won the victory by dealing with the tricks of Antaeus, though he subdues all other monsters, is overcome by this one. If this madness sickens a woman's mind, she rushes into any and every crime and on her own initiative, too. Anticipating the hand of fate, a daughter treacherously slays a father, a sister slays a brother, or a wife, a husband. Thus by aphairesis she wrongly shortens her husband's body when with stealthy sword she cuts off his head. The mother herself is forced to forget the name of mother and, while she is giving birth, is laying snares for her offspring. A son is astonished to encounter a stepmother as his mother and to find treachery where there should be loyalty, plots where there should be affection. Thus in Medea two names battle on equal terms when she desires to be mother and stepmother at the same time. When Byblis became too attached to Caunus, she could not be a sister or conduct herself as one. In the same way, too, Myrrha submitting herself too far to her father became a parent by her sire and a mother by her father. But why offer further instruction? Every lover is forced to become an item at Desire's auction and pays his dues to him. He carriers his warfare to all. His rule exempts practically no one. He lays everything low with the fury of his lightning stroke. Against his goodness, wisdom, grace of beauty, floods of riches, height of nobility will be of no avail. Deceit, trickery, fear, rage, madness, treachery, violence, delusion, gloom, find a hospitable home in his realms. Here reasonable procedure is to be without reason, moderation means lack of moderation, trustworthiness is not to be trustworthy. He offers what is sweet but adds what is bitter. He injects poison and brings what is noble to an evil end. He attracts by seducing, mocks with smiles, stings as he applies his salve, infects as he shows affection, hates as he loves. You can by yourself, however, restrain this madness, if you but flee; no more powerful antidote is available. If you wish to avoid Venus, avoid her places and times. Both place and time add fuel to her fire. If you follow, she keeps up the pursuit. By your flight she is put to flight. If you give ground, she gives ground. If you flee, she flees.

Pax odio, fraudique fides, spes juncta timori, est amor, et mistus cum ratione furor. Naufragium dulce, pondus leve, grata Charybdis, Incolumis languor, et satiata fames. Esuries satiens, sitis ebria, falsa voluptas, Tristities laeta, gaudia plena malis. Dulce malum, mala dulcedo, sibi dulcor amarus, Cujus odor sapidus, insipidusque sapor. Tempestas grata, nox lucida, lux tenebrosa, Mors vivens, moriens vita, suave malum. Peccatum veniae, venialis culpa, jocosa, Poena, pium facinus, imo, suave scelus. Instabilis ludus, stabilis delusio, robur Infirmum, firmum mobile, firma movens. Insipiens ratio, demens prudentia, tristis Prosperitas, risus flebilis, aegra quies. Mulcebris infernus, tristis paradisus, amoenus Carcer, hiems verna, ver hiemale, malum. Mentis atrox tinea, quam regis purpura sentit, Sed nec mendici praeterit illa togam. Nonne per antiphrasim, miracula multa Cupido Efficiens, hominum protheat omne genus. Dum furit iste furor, deponit Scylla furorem, Et pius Aeneas incipit esse Nero. Fulminat ense Paris, Tydeus mollescit amore, Fit Nestor juvenis, fitque Melincta senex. Thersites Paridem forma mendicat, Adonim Davus, et in Davum totus Adonis abit. Dives eget Crassus, Codrus et abundat egendo, Carmina dat Bavius, musa Maronis hebet. Ennius eloquitur, Marcusque silet; fit Ulysses Insipiens, Ajax desipiendo sapit. Qui prius auctorum solvendo sophismata vicit, Vincitur hoc monstro, caetera monstra domans. Quaelibet in facinus mulier decurrit, et ultro, Ejus si mentem morbidet iste furor, Nata patrem, fratremque soror, vel sponsa maritum Fraude necat, fati praeveniendo manum. Sicque per ascensum male syncopat illa mariti Corpus, furtivo dum metit ense caput. Cogitur ipsa parens nomen nescire parentis, In partuque dolos, dum parit ipsa parens. Filius in matre stupet invenisse novercam, Inque fide fraudes, in pietate dolos. Sic in Medea pariter duo nomina pugnant, Dum simul esse parens, atque noverca cupit. Nesciit esse soror, vel se servare sororem, Dum nimium Cauno Byblis amica fuit. Sic quoque Myrrha suo nimium subjecta parenti, In genitore parens, in patre mater erat. Sed quid plura docebo, Cupidinis ire sub hasta Cogitur omnis amans, juraque solvit ei. Militat in cunctis, ullum vix excipit hujus Regula, cuncta ferit fulmen et ira sui. In quem non poterit probitas, prudentia, formae Gratia, fluxus opum, nobilitatis apex. Furta, doli, metus, ira, furor, fraus, impetus, error, Tristities, hujus hospita regna tenent. Hic ratio, rationis egere, modoque carere Est modus, estque fides non habuisse fidem. Dulcia proponens assumit amara, venenum Infert, concludens optima fine malo. Allicit illiciens, ridens deridet, inungens Pungit, et afficiens inficit, odit amans. Ipse tamen poteris ipsum frenare dolorem, Si fugias, potior potio nulla datur. Si vitare velis Venerem, loca, tempora vita, Nam locus et tempus, pabula donat ei. Si tu persequeris, sequitur; fugiendo fugatur; Si cedis, cedit; si fugis, illa fugit.

 

Desire, Venus's child, is thus a false, or more accurately, unreliable or traitorous friend. Desire is an oxymoronic guide, both sharp and dull, in character. Desire is a paradoxical compass. It is both the unnatural natural and the natural unnatural in us, and is both unnaturally natural and naturally unnatural in its promptings and in its effects. That is why, a few lines later, Nature notes that Desire "is connected with me by a certain bond of true consanguinity," ipse mihi quadam germanae consanguinitatis fibula connectatur. Its basic or fundamental nature is, if it remains within its proper bounds, good, honestate. The problem with Desire is that it seems to elbow everything else out. It oversteps its natural boundaries in excessive ardor, and so what should but but a tiny flame, a scintilla, turns into a destructive conflagration. What should be a tiny stream, a fonticulus, turns out to be a torrent, torrentem. To flee Desire, one must flee his mother Venus. Desire must be restrained with the "bridle of moderation," frenis modestiae, it must be checked with the "reins of temperance," habenis temperantiae. It is not desire that is vicious, but excess desire, a desire not in accord with temperate mean, that is vicious. "For every excess interferes with the progress that comes from the temperateness of the mean and distension from unhealthy surfeit swells and causes what we may call the ulcers of vice." Quoniam omnis excessus, temperatae mediocritatis incessum disturbat, et abundantiae morbidae inflatio quasi in quaedam apostemata vitiorum exuberat.

Nature then returns to the intended role of Venus, in particular in the area of sex. Nature explains that when she made Venus her subagent, she provided her with a workshop of many anvils, (incudis) and two approved hammers (duos legitimos malleos) one hammer specifically for man, and the other for the rest of the creation. These hammers were to be the tools of Venus, the tools of an interested Providence to overcome disinterested Fate. With them she was to be faithful to God's forms. Venus was not to allow "the hammers to stray away from the anvils in any form of deviation." Venus was also provided with a pen to trace the classes of things, and with which she was to f0llow the blueprints of the forms by which things were to be made. Venus was not to deviate from the norms of orthography "into the byways of pseudography," in falsigraphiae devio. And it was understood that the propagation of the various species was to be accomplished by the joinder of two genders, and that this was to be accomplished within regular constructions of the art of Grammar.

 

Since the plan of Nature gave special recognition, as the evidence of Grammar confirms, to genders, to wit, the masculine and feminine . . . I charged the Cyprian [Venus] with secret warnings and might, thunderous threats, that she should, as reason demanded, concentrate exclusively on the natural union of masculine and feminine gender. Since, by the demands of the conditions necessary for reproduction, the masculine joins the feminine to itself, if an irregular combination of members of the same sex should come into common practice, so that appurtenances of the same sex should be mutually connected, that combination would never be able to gain acceptance from me either as a means of procreation or as an aid to conception. For if the masculine gender, by a certain violence of unreasonable reason, should call for a gender entirely similar to itself, this bond and union will not be able to defend the flaw as any kind of graceful figure, but will bear the stain of an outlandish and unpardonable solecism.

Cum enim attestante grammatica, duo genera specialiter, masculinum et femininum, ratio naturae cognoverit . . . tamen Cypridi sub intimis admonitionibus minarum tonitru ingessi, ut in suis conjunctionibus ratione exigentiae, naturalem constructionem solummodo masculini femininique generis celebraret. Cum enim masculinum genus suum femininum exigentia habitudinis genialis adsciscat, si eorumdem generum constructio anomale celebretur, ut res ejusdem sexus sibi invicem construantur, illa quidem constructio nec evocationis remedio, vel conceptionis suffragio, apud me veniam poterit promereri. Si enim genus masculinum genus consimile quadam irrationabilis rationis deposcat injuria, nulla figurae honestate illa constructionis junctura vitium poterit excusare, sed inexcusabilis soloecismi monstruositate turpabitur.

(continued)

WEDNESDAY, JUNE 9, 2010

Nature's Complaint: Alan of Lille's The Plaint of Nature, Part 8

 

NATURE CONTINUES TO ELABORATE the intricate grammatical instructions she conveyed to Venus her subagent. As we had discussed in our earlier posting, Nature had provided Venus many anvils and two hammers, presumably one hammer for the male and another for the female of each animal species. Nature had provided Venus blueprints of the species, and a special pen that would allow her to trace these ideal forms of the species into individuated particulars. Provided with all this was a Grammar, one with two genders, masculine and feminine. The Grammar provided that the genders were to be combined: masculine with feminine, and irregular combinations--of two feminines or two masculines or the odd neuter--were not to be countenanced. As the poem progresses Alain de Lille's Grammar of sex becomes ever more intricate.

Venus was instructed that the sexual Grammar should observe the "regular procedure in matters of subjacent and superjacent (suppositiones appositionesque ordinarias observando) and should assign the role of subjacent to the part characteristic of the female sex (rem feminini sexus charactere praesignitam, suppositionis destinaret officio) and should place that part that is a specific mark of the male sex in the prestigious position of superjacent (rem vero specificatam masculini generis, sede collocaret appositi) in such a way that the superjacent cannot go down to take the place of the subjacent nor the subjacent pass over to the demesne of the superjacent (ut nec appositum in vicem suppositi valeat declinare, nec suppositum possit in regionem appositi transmigrare; etiam cum utrumque regatur ab altero)." Venus explains: "Since each requires the other, the superjacent with the characteristic of an adjective is attracted by the law of urgent need to the subjacent which appropriates the special characteristics of a noun (appositum sub adjectiva proprietate, suppositum subjectivae proprietatis proprium retineret, exigentiae legibus invitatum)."

What on earth does all this mean? This is an intricate play on words by Alan de Lille, who toys with the etymological, grammatical, metaphorical, and ordinary meanings of the words suppositum and appositum. The matter is somewhat confused by Sheridan's not-quite-literal translation. Venus was here instructed to observe the ordinary rules of the suppositum andappositum. We are dealing here with grammatical concepts involving the construction of sentences. Generally, in modern grammatical terms, the termsuppositum is the subject of a proposition, whereas the term appositum is thepredicate of that proposition. The male is to have the office of the appositum, whereas the female is to have the office of the suppositum.

The term suppositum appears to have been a translation of the Greek termhypokeisthai, (ὑποκεισθαι) which means "to lie under," a combination ofkeisthai (κεισθαι, to lie) and hypo (ὑπο, under). It has a variety of uses in poetry, grammar, and logic. Rodríguez y Guillén, "'Suppositum' y 'Appositum' en la Teoría Sintáctica Medieval y su Projección en el Renacimiento,"Minerva: Revista de Filología Clásica (No. 2, 1988), p. 290.

The term appositum is a purely grammatical term which is derived from fromad ("near") and positio ("placement"). It is a calque or translation of the Greek term epitheton (επιθετον) which means something attributed or added.

The terms suppositum and apppositum were therefore two great parts or offices of a sentence [Boethius: Pars orationis aut est suppositum aut appositum aut determinatio istorum], and each such office or part had a fixed position. Rodríguez y Guillén, 293. From one vantage point, the suppositumand the appositum were equal. From another vantage point, the suppositumnecessarily occupied the first place in a sentence (the appositum especially in its verbal sense, required a suppositum; a verb required a subject), but its place is determined with reference to the appositum, which takes a verbal or active aspect or adjectival or descriptive aspect, and so, from this vantage point theappositum is preeminent to the suppositum. So Rodríguez y Guillén conclude:

Así pues, hemos visto cómo suppositum y appositum son los dos elementos básicos en cualquier oración. Sin embargo, desde el punto de vista de la posición y de forma implícita, convierten al segundo en el núcleo, en el centro de toda oración, alrededor y por referencia al cual se sitúan todos los demás, delante o detrás, de forma fija y obligatoria. En consequencia, llevando esto hasta el extremo, podemos concluir que, si bien desde el punto de vista de la significación y de la relación enter ambos, suppositum y appositum tienen la misma importancia, desde el punto de vista de la posición, al appositum (verbo) se le atribuye el lugar preeminente en toda oración.

So, therefore, we have seen how suppositum and appositum are the two basic elements of every sentence. Nevertheless [though the suppositum is, in one way, first in the sentence], from the point of view of the position and implicit form, the second is converted into the nucleus, the center of the entire sentence, around which and by reference to everything else is situated, before or after, in a fixed and obligatory way. In consequence, taking this to the extreme, we can conclude that, with respect of the point of view of the significance and the relations between them, suppositum and appositum have the same importance, but from the point of view of the position, to the appositum (verb) is attributed the preeminent place of the entire sentence.

What Nature is saying, then, is that the female and male of the species, assuppositum and appositum, respectively, are essentially equal parts of the sentence into which they are to be coupled, but that from the point of view of procreation or union, the male appositum, though he is in need of the femalesuppositum and without the female suppositum he makes no sense, the maleappositum, in terms of position, plays the definitional or preeminent part of the sentence.

Further instructions were given by Nature to Venus:

In addition to this I gave instructions that the conjugations of Dione's daughter should restrict themselves entirely to the forward march of the transitive (conjunctio in transitivae constructionis habitum uniformem) and should not admit the stationary intransitive or the circuitous reflexive (reciprocationis) or the recurring passive (retransitionis), and that she should not, by an excessive extension of permission to go to and from, tolerate a situation where the active type, by appropriating an additional meaning, goes over to the passive or the passive, laying aside its proper character, returns to the active or where a verb with a passive ending retains an active meaning and adopts the rules of deponents.

Thus, the relationship between the female suppositum and the maleappositum was to remain one where the male was active relative to the female, and where the relationship was transitive, not intransitive. This means the sentence was to be incomplete unless it had a direct object. Coupling was not to be had without both parts: the suppositum and the appositum were both required in the Grammar of sex. There was not to be a suppositum or anappositum by itself, nor was there to be two supposita or two apposita joined in any sentence. The male appositum was to be joined to the femalesuppositum, and that relationship, though one of equals, was one where theappositum would have an active role relative to the suppositum.

More, however, than just rules of sexual Grammar was Venus given by Nature. Nature also supplied her with the rules of logic, of argument, of syllogism, so that she would be fully armed against the Fates, and would be able to best them in argument and so detect the "lurking places of fraud and fallacy in her opponents' arguments." Nature's instructions in the Grammar and Logic of sex were precise, and those forms that were grammatically incorrect or logically fallacious were excommunicated and anathematized.

For a time, Venus did her job well and within the restrictions that Nature laid before her. But she soon grew tired of the routine and the labor required in assuring the discipline of grammar and logic. So Venus grew lax and laxity, like too much food and drink, led to her adultery. So Venus cheated on her husband Hymenaeus, defiled her marriage, and "began to live in fornication and concubinage with Antigenius," cum Antigenus coepit concubinarie fornicari. [Here the manuscripts are not consistent. The majority use "Antigenius," but some use the term "Antigamus." Thus, Venus may have either been "opposed to Genius" (Antigenius) or "opposed to marriage" (Antigamus). The former reading stresses her dislike of procreation and pursuit of sterile, anti-natural sex, whereas the latter would stress her dislike for the confines of marriage and its ends, which includes procreation. For a description and role of Genius in Alan of Lille's De Planctu Naturae, see the first posting of this series, Nature's Complaint: Alan of Lille's The Plaint of Nature, Part 1]

The adultery with Antigenus (or Antigamus) corrupted her mind, corrupted her work, corrupted the workshop and tools. The entirety of sexual Grammar and Logic was bastardized. Indeed, the coupling of Venus and Antigenus (or Antigamus) resulted in the birth of the bastard Jocus (or Pastime or Sport), the half-brother of Cupid (or Desire). Sex became a pastime, a sport, to be engaged in as play without regard to its intrinsic ordering toward procreation which is what gives it dignity and purpose. It became Sport or Pastime, rather than a fulfillment of a natural desire for marriage, conjugal union, and progeny. "The adultery with Antigenius," Hugh White tells us, "signifies Venus' turning away from her task of procreation, Genius, Nature's priest and 'her other self', being a power presiding over reproduction. . . . [W]hat is at issue being that non-inseminative sexual activity standardly understood as contra naturam." Hugh White, Nature, Sex, and Goodness in Medieval Literary Tradition (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2000), 90. What, then, is Alan of Lille's message?
 

We may then conclude that fully natural sexual behaviour is not over-passionate, occurs within marriage (Alan tells us that Cupido is the legitimate son of Venus and Hymenaeus, the god of marriage), and aims at, or is at lest open to, procreation (as we have seen, Venus' revolt from Nature involves the desertion of Hymenaeus for Antigenius, which implies a contempt for the procreative purpose of marriage).

White, 92. Venus concludes with a comparison of Cupid, the legitimate son of Hymenaeus and Venus, and Pastime or Sport, the bastard child of Venus and Antigenus or Antigamus:

 

The former's [Cupid's] birth finds its defence in solemnised marriage, the commonness of a commonly-known concubinage arraigns the latter's descent. In the former there shines the urbanity of his father's courteousness; the boorishness of his father's provincialism denigrates the latter. The former dwells by the silvery fountains, bright with their besilvered sheens; the latter tirelessly haunts places cursed with unending drought. the latter pitches his tent in flat wastelands; the former finds his happiness in sylvan glades. The latter forever spends the entire night in his tents; the former spends day and night without interruption in the open air. The former wounds the one he chases with spears of gold; the latter pierces what he strikes with javelins of iron. The former makes his guests merry with nectar that is not gone sour; the latter ruins his guests with a bitter portion of absinthe.

Illius nativitatem, matrimonii excusat solemnitas; hujus propaginem divulgati concubinatus accusat vulgaritas. In illo, paternae civilitatis elucescit urbanitas; in hoc, paternae inurbanitatis tenebrescit rusticitas. Iste inargentatos nitoribus argenteos fontes inhabitat; hic loca perenni ariditate damnata indefesse concelebrat. Iste in grata planitie fixit tentoria; huic vallium complacent nemorosa. Iste in tabernaculis indeficienter pernoctat, hic sub dio dies noctesque continuat. Iste aureis venabulis vulnerat quem venatur; hic, quem ferit, ferreis jaculis lanceat. Iste suos hospites debriat nectare subamaro, hic suos absynthii potu perimit acetoso.

So it was idleness and the indulgence in food and drink that brought out lust in Venus, to the ruin of mankind, and to the perpetual sorrow of Nature who makes her plaint to the poet, and which explains her sorrow. And the sorrow is amplified all the more because, as Nature now explains, breach in one virtue, chastity, results in breach in the other virtues. Put another way, indulging in the vice of unchaste, sterile or unnatural sex results in the increase of the other vices.

THURSDAY, JUNE 10, 2010

Nature's Complaint: Alan of Lille's The Plaint of Nature, Part 9

 

"VIRTUE IS NOTHING OTHER THAN NATURE completed in istelf and brought to perfection," says Cicero in his De Legibus: est autem virtus nihil aliud, nisi perfecta et ad summum perducta natura. When Venus, the subagent of Nature, weakened by her gluttony, breached her marital vows, committed adultery with Antigenius, and bore the bastard Jocus, the nature of man was irreparably injured. Man's nature fell with the loss of conjugal fidelity and the breach of chaste marriage, and with it all virtue was rent, as man's nature came under the vice's dominion. Virtue, if it was to be found, rules man, at best, tenuously as a missionary bishop in partibus infidelium, in the land of the unbelievers, at worst, in theory only as a bishop in exilio, in exile. And from the loss of one virtue, all other virtue unraveled, leaving man without justice, without law, in the slough of fraud and crime, and all vice. In short, he became slave to the irrational. Nature sings her plaint about the downfall of vice in poetry, in Aesclepiad Minor Catalectic meter:

 

Alas, what headlong fall has Virtue suffered that it struggles under the dominion of vice? Virtue of every kind is in exile, The reins of madness are being loosed for vice. The day of justice fades; Scarcely a shadow of its shade remains to survive it; Bereft of light, immersed in night, it bewails the death of the start that brought it honour. While the lightning-flash of crime blasts the earth, the night of fraud darkens the star of fidelity and no stars of virtue redeem the Stygian darkness of the night. The evening of fidelity lies heavy on the world, the nocturnal chaos of fraud is everywhere. Fidelity fades in the face of fraud; fraud, too, deceives by fraud and thus trickery puts pressure on trickery. In the realm of customary behaviour, accepted practices are lacking in morality. Laws lack legal force; rights lose their tenure. All justice is administered without justice and law flourishes without legality. The world is in a state of decline: already the golden ages of the world are in decay. Poverty clothes a world of iron, the same world that noble gold once clothed. Fraud no longer seeks the cloak of pretence, Nor does the noisome stench of crime seek for itself the fragrant balsam of virtue so as to supply a cloak for its evil smell. Thus does the nettle hide in impoverishment of beauty with roses, the seaweed with hyacinth, Dross with silver, archil with purple So as to make up for the defects in appearance of what lies within. Crime, however, doffs all its trappings And does not give itself the colours of justice. It openly defines itself as crime. Fraud itself becomes the external expression of its frenzy. What remains safe when treachery arms even mothers against their offspring? When brotherly love is afflicted with fraud and the right hand lies to its sister? The obligation arising from righteousness, to respect upright men, is considered a thing of reproach; the law of piety is impiety; to have a sense of shame is now a shame in every eye. Without shame a man, no longer manlike, puts aside the practices of man. Degenerate, then, he adopts the degenerate way of an irrational animal. Thus he unmans himself and deserves to be unmanned by himself.

Heu, quam praecipiti passu ruinam Virtus sub vitio victa laborat? Virtutis species exsultat omnis, Laxantur vitio frena furoris, Languet justitiae Lucifer, hujus Vix umbrae remanet umbra superstes Exstinctumque sui sidus honoris Deflet, lucis egens, noctis abundans Dum fulgur scelerum fulminat orbem, Nox fraudis fidei nubilat austrum: Virtutumque tamen sidera nulla Istius redimunt noctis abyssum, Incumbit fidei vespera mundo Nocturnumque chaos fraudis abundat. Languet fraude fides, fraus quoque fraudem Fallit fraude, dolo sic dolus instat, Mores moris egent moribus orbi, Leges lege carent, jusque tenoris Perdunt jura sui; jam sine jure Fit jus omne, viget lex sine lege. Mundus degenerat, aurea mundi Jam jam degenerant saecula, mundum Ferri pauperies vestit, eumdem Olim nobilitas vestiit auri, Jam jam hypocrisis pallia quaerunt Fraudes, et scelerum fetor odorus Ut pravo chlamidem donet odori Virtutum sibimet balsama quaerit. Sic urtica rosis, alga hyacinthis, Argento scoria, murice fucus Formae pauperiem palliat, ut sic Interdum redimant crimina vultus. Sed crimen phaleras exuit omnes, Nec se justitiae luce colorat: Nam sese vitium glossat aperte, Fit fraus ipsa sui lingua furoris, Quid tuti superest, cum dolus armat Ipsas in propria viscera matres? Cum fraternus amor fraude laborat, Mentiturque manus dextra sorori? Censetur reprobum jus probitatis, Observare probos, et pietatis Lex, est improbitas, esse pudicum Jam cunctis pudor est. Absque pudor Humanos hominis exuit usus Non humanus homo. Degener ergo Bruti degeneres induit actus, Et sic exhominans exhominandus.

This is exactly the message of Hieronymus Bosch. In his Allegory of Gluttony and Lust, the painter shows the intricate connection between excess drink and food and venery. The drunk rides the wine barrel, pushed and pulled by wanton, cladless women, and follows the food plate on a naked man's head who appears to be sinking in quicksand, directly to the tent of lust. In overeating and overdrinking, a man has already taken off his robes that protect him from unchastity. What Alan of Lille thus put in poem, the painter Hieronymus Bosch put in figure.

Although my bounty spreads so many dishes in front of men, pours them so many cups, they, nevertheless, showing no gratitude for my favours, abuse what is lawful in a very unlawful way, give a loose rein to their gluttony, when they exceed limits in eating, produce the lines of drinking to infidelity.

Cum enim mea largitas tot hominibus fercula procuret, tot fercula copiosa compluat, ipsi tamen gratiae ingrati, nimis illicite licitis abutentes, frena gulae laxantes, dum comedendi mensuras excedunt, lineas potationis in infinitum extendunt.

 

Hieronymus Bosch's Allegory of Gluttony and Lust
 

The poet wants details, and Nature obliges her willing tutee. The world is in danger of ruin--indeed it is suffering nothing other than a conflagration of vice--Nature tells the poet, and one can start with the "world-wide deluge of gluttony," generalissimo gulositatis naufragatur diluvio. 

 

Detail (Gluttony) from Hieronymus Bosch's The Seven Deadly Sins and the Four Last Things

Nature starts with gluttony because "gluttony is, so to speak, a preamble to acts of lust, and a kind of antecedent to the consequent venery," gulositas est quasi quoddam Venereae exsecutionis prooemium, et quasi quoddam antecedens ad venereum consequens. Gluttony is but a form of idolatry, and Nature identifies two daughters of Idolatry, one of whom she names as Bacchilatria (worshiper of Wine), the other of whom she does not name. One is in charge of plying men and women to overdrink. The other is in charge of persuading men and women to overeat. The vice of gluttony makes them men, in the words of St. Paul to the Philippians, quorum deus venter, whose god is their belly. It is through man's belly that these daughter of Idolatry get men to fall into lust. (Some of Alan de Lille's images regarding excess food and drink are rather humorous, even scatalogical.) "The above-mentioned pests construct a bridge over which the brothel of lust is reached." Hae praefatae pestes pontem faciunt, per quem ad luxuriae lupanaria pervenitur.

 

Detail (Lust) from Hieronymus Bosch's The Seven Deadly Sins and the Four Last Things
 

Gluttony is an inordinate appetite for food and drink, and it leads to the inordinate desire for other temporal goods. So quickly does gluttony lead to lust, and also other vices. And from the two daughters of Idolatry that propagandize food and drink, Nature turns to that other daughter of Idolatry, Avarice.

 

FRIDAY, JUNE 11, 2010

Nature's Complaint: Alan of Lille's The Plaint of Nature, Part 10

 

IDOLATRY HAS ANOTHER DAUGHTER in addition to the two in charge of plying men to overeat and overdrink. Avarice. Avaritia. Nature labels Avarice with the name of Numulatria, "Worshipper of Cash." Here, Alan of Lille is following St. Paul's teaching in his letter to the Colossians (Col. 3:5): avaritiais simulacrorum servitus, covetousness or avarice is the service of idols. One cannot serve God and Mammon. Avarice deifies money in the minds of men, and makes them openly venerate it and inwardly covet it. The worship of cash, which is the same thing as the love of money, is the root of all evil. "For the desire of money is the root of all evils . . . ." Radix enim omnium malorum est cupiditas. (1 Tim. 6:10). Alan of Lille again follows St. Paul.

 

[When] cash speaks, the trumpet of Tullius' eloquence grows hoarse;
When cash takes the field, the lighting of Hector's warfare ceases;
When cash fights, the strength of Hercules is subdued.

Ubi nummus loquitur, Tulliani eloquii tuba raucescit;
Ubi nummus commilitat, Hectoreae militiae fulgura conticescunt;
Ubi pugnat pecunia, virtus expugnatur Herculea.

Avarice is a jealous god, and demands the absolute worship from its devotees. As a consequence, reason (dialectic), rhetoric, chastity and modesty, social mores, virtue, the arts (poetry, architecture, and music), and all-important justice, decline when in the thrall of cash. It is universally corrupting, suffocating. And it is universally disatisfying. "Yet the rich man," Nature says, "shipwrecked in the depths of his riches, is tortured by the forces of dropsical thirst." Jam dives, divitiarum naufragus in profundo, hydropicae sitis incendiis sitit opes, et in medio ipsarum positus Tantalizat. Tantalized, man's thirst for riches is never slackened, his hunger never satiated, he is like Tantalus constantly desiring the fruit just beyond his reach and never achieving satisfaction. In his Book of Emblems, Alciato, like Alan de Lille, depicts Avarice as Tantalus with the following description:

 

Alas, wretched Tantalus, in the middle of the waves, stands
There thirsty, and, starving, cannot have the nearby fruit.
Change the name, and this will be said of you, oh greedy man,
You, who, almost as if you had it not, do not enjoy what you have.

Heu miser in mediis sitiens stat Tantalus undis,
Et poma esuriens proxima habere nequit.
Nomine mutato de te id dicetur avare,
Qui, quasi non habeas, non frueris quod habes.

The poor cannot engage in avarice directly since they have no money, and so they have their own analogue, in fact, the archetype of Avarice: miserliness (parcitas).

Moderns say, "Cash is King." Medievals like Alan de Lille said through his character Nature: "Now not Caesar but cash is everything." Jam non Caesar, sed nummus est omnia. And it rules, given the chance, everything secular and everything religious. To show the travesty of it all, Alan of Lille takes the popular chant that hales from the rugged Carolingian times, Christus vincit, Christus regnat, Christ imperat (Christ conquers, Christ reigns, Christ rules), and transforms it to Nummus vincit, Nummus mundum regit, Nummus imperat universis (Cash conquers, Cash rules, Cash gives orders to all). This is money become God. Hail all-powerful Mammon.

 

When cash is king, there is no profit in matters of the human spirit, in wisdom(sapienta). All the wrong things, superficial things, are rewarded with cash reward. Not wisdom. Wisdom is "rewarded with no pay for her produce, no favouring breeze of fame raises her on high, while money buys title to offices and the glory of public recognition," nullius famae eam aura favorabilis extollat, ipsa vero pecunia honoris titulos et laudis emat praeconia. (Ask Barack Obama how much cash it took to get him elected President, and Paris Hilton how much cash it took to make her famous, and see whether Nature's plaint remains true today.)

 

Wisdom is man's most noble posession: it surpasses all other temporal goods, and in fact, works exactly the opposite of money:
 

Though scattered she remains concentrated, when expended she returns, when shared with one and all, she experiences an increase.

Generosa possessio, quae sparsa colligitur, erogata revertitur, publicata suscipit incrementum!

What a remarkable thing wisdom is!
 

She is the sun through which daylight shines on the mind's darkness, the eye of the heart, delightful paradise of the spirit.
[She, by] the influence of a deific transformation, . . . changes the earthly into the heavenly, the perishable into the immortal, man into God.
She is the one remedy for your exile, the only solace in human misfortune, the one and only morning star to end man's night, the specific redemption for your misery. No darkness in the heavens confuses her keen vision, no thickness of earth blocks her operation, no water's depth dims her vision.

Haec est sol, per quem mens diescit in tenebris, cordis oculus, deliciosus animi paradisus.
Haec in coeleste terrenum, in immortale caducum, in deum hominem, deificae mutationis auctoritate convertit.
Haec est verum peregrinationis remedium, solum humanae calamitatis solatium, humanae noctis lucifer singularis, tuae miseriae redemptio specialis, cujus aciem nulla aeris caligo confundit, non densitas terrae operam ejus offendit, non altitudo aquae respectum ejus obtundit.

Wisdom is the fruit of prudence, so Nature advises the poet, "with the afection love of your heart, pursue prudence, so that you may be able to turn an unobstructed gaze on the inner resting place of the mother of wisdom," et intestino affectionis amore prudentiam consecteris, ut penitus sapientiae matris cubiculum inoffenso intuitu valeas intueri.

The poet wants more information from Nature on Avarice. He wants Nature to tell him, without reservation, her intimate beliefs about Avarice. Nature complies with a poem in Dactylic Hexameter. Though wealth is deprecated, ultimately, Nature's view is balanced. Wealth, and in particular its pursuit, must be governed by reason.

When the accursed greed for gold pierces the heart of man,
The hungry human mind can feel no fear.
It weakens the bonds of frienship, begets hatred, gives rise to anger,
Sows the seed of war, fosters contentions, reknots the severed line of battle,
Unties the knots of covenants, stirs up
Children against their fathers, mothers against their offsring, causes brother
To ignore the peaceful intent of brother.
This one madness harmfully disunites all whom unity of blood makes one.
. . . .
This discourse does not disparage riches
Or the rich but rather seeks to sink its teeth into vice.
I do not condemn property, riches or the practices of the rich,
Provided that the mind, with reason as mistress, is in command, brings this wealth into subjection to itself and treads upon it--
In a word, provided that reason, the noble charioteer,
shall direct the use of riches.

Postquam sacra fames auri mortalia pungit
Pectora, mens hominis nescit jejuna manere.
Laxat amicitias, odium parit, erigit iras,
Bella serit, lites nutrit, bellumque renodat,
Rumpit nodata, disrumpit foedera, natos
Excitat in patres, matres in viscera, fratres
Dat fratrum nescire togas, et sanguinis omnes
Unio quos unit, furor hos male dividit unus.

. . . .

Divitiis vel divitibus non derogat iste
Sermo, sed vitium potius mordere laborat.
Non census, non divitias, non divitis usum
Damno, si victor animus ratione magistra
Subjectas sibi calcat opes, si denique census
Nobilis auriga ratio direxerit usum.

From Avarice, Nature turns her attention to Arrogance.

 

SATURDAY, JUNE 12, 2010

Nature's Complaint: Alan of Lille's The Plaint of Nature, Part 11

 

NATURE TURNS HER ATTENTION TO ARROGANCE as the next vice that infects men's minds as if it were a tumor or disease. It shows itself in prolixity or in taciturnity, in loud forms and in quiet forms. Superbia, the sin of pride of mind, shows itself in specific behavior designed to bring attention, or in odd gestures, or excessive adornment of the body, in the handling of one's hair or in tight-fitting clothes. (One thinks of the modern penchant for tattoos and body-piercing jewelry. Plus ça change, plus c'est la même chose. The more things change, the more they are the same.) The subject of Pride can be found in the homes of the rich and the hovels of the poor, in the halls of Academe and the barracks of soldiery. It shows up when one acts seriously when one ought to by merry, or by excessive frivolity when one ought to be serious.

 

Detail (Pride) from 
Hieronymus Bosch's The Seven Deadly Sins and the Four Last Things 
 

 

In some cases, pride can be detected by the way one carries himself in public. Nature describes for us the typical pose of the prideful man:

Others give a picture of the interior movements of their pride by adopting external mannerisms. These, as if they despised the things of the earth, with head thrown back look up to heaven turn their eyes aside in hauteur, frequently raise their eyebrows, arrogantly thrust their chins forward, position their arms in a bow-like fashion.

Alii interioris superbiae gestus, exterioris gestus exceptione figurant: qui tanquam terrena omnia despiciant, supini coelestia suspiciunt, oculos indignanter obliquant; supercilia exaltant, mentum superciliose supinant, brachia in arcus exemplant.

Who do we know that looks like that?

There is no warrant for Pride:

Alas! What is the basis for this haughtiness, this pride in man? His birth is attended by pain, the penalty of toil lays waste his life, the greater penalty of inevitable death rounds off his punishment. His existence is the matter of a moment, his life is a shipwreck, his world is a place of exile. His life is gone or giving assurances of its going, for death is exerting its pressure or threatening it.

Heu! homini unde isti fastus, ista superbia? cujus aerumnosa est nativitas, cujus vitam laboriosa demolitur poenalitas, cujus poenalitatem poenalior mortis concludit necessitas; cujus omne esse, momentum, vita est naufragium, mundus exsilium: cujus vita aut abest, aut spondet absentiam, mors autem instat, aut minatur instantiam.

From pride, Nature explains, a daughter is born, and who is equally as malicious as her mother. She is Envy, Invidia.

Detail (Envy) from 
Hieronymus Bosch's The Seven Deadly Sins and the Four Last Things

Envy destroys Nature, like a worm, it burrows and gnaws upon the mind, making it diseased and corrupt, rotting in decay, removing from it all peace. Envy is like a badly behaved guest, who destroys the host's home. She detracts from those that are virtuous, that are endowed with talents and with character. Those infected by envy have Schadenfreude and "Freudenschade".
 

 

In their judgement, another's prosperity is their adversity, another's adversity is their prosperity. These are saddened by the compliments paid to others and rejoice in the sadness of others.

His aliena prosperitas adversa, aliena adversitas prospera judicatur. Hi in aliena gratulatione tristantur, in aliena tristitia gratulantur.

What is the cure for such a noxious vice? A man must strive to relate to the other. He must sympathize with his fellow, have a sense of communio or participation in the other's suffering and in his joy. In the words of Martin Buber, he must establish an I/Thou relationship.

"Flattery" by Juan Gris (1908)

The last of the vices addressed by Nature is flattery (adulatione). This vice is found in palaces, in the homes of the rich, and in the homes of prelates. They ply their with words that are but lies, and only they can trade the lying flattery for their benefit. At bottom, flattery is a lie:
 

What, then, is the ointment of flattery but cheating fo gifts? What is the act of commendation but a deception of prelates? What is the smile of praise but a mockery of the same prelates? For since speech is wont to be the faithful interpreter of thought, words the faithful pictures of the soul, the countenance an indication of the will, the tongue the spokesman of the mind, flatters separate, by a wide distance and divergence, the countenance from the will, the words from the soul, the tongue from the mind, the speech from the thought.

Quid est igitur adulationis inunctio, nisi donorum emunctio? Quid commendationis allusio, nisi praelatorum illusio? Quid laudis arrisio, nisi eorumdem derisio? Nam cum loquela, fidelis intellectus interpres, verbaque fideles animi picturae vultus voluntatis signaculum, lingua mentis soleat esse propheta, adulatores a voluntate vultum, ab animo verbum, a mente linguam, ab intellectu loquelam, amplo discessionis intervallo diffibulant.

The poet asks for a blanket remedy for all these vices.

I would have you strengthen the little town of my mind by the rational ramparts of your instruction against the furious armies of these vices.

Vellem ut rationabilibus tuae disciplinationis propugnaculis contra furiales istorum vitiorum exercitus, meae mentis roborares oppidulum.

Nature responds with a poem.

 

 

SUNDAY, JUNE 13, 2010

Nature's Complaint: Alan of Lille's The Plaint of Nature, Part 12

 

MODERATION, MODERATION, MODERATION. This is Nature's advice on avoiding the vices. This is the wisdom of the ancients. "Nothing too much!" Ne quid nimis. Mηδην αγαν (meden agan). Know yourself! Scito te ipsum. Γνωθι σεαυτόν (gnothi seauton). These sayings were inscribed upon Temple of Apollo at Delphi. It is as if Alan of Lille put these sayings, along with the wisdom of Ecclesiastes (Eccl. 6:40: "In all they works remember thy last end, and thou shalt never sin") in poetic form in Nature's poem in Alcaic meter. As Nature recites the poem, the virtues gather around her.

 

Oracle at Delphi, Sistine Chapel
 

 

To prevent Scylla with her greedy whirlpool From plunging you into the deep night of lust, Apply the restraint of moderation to your palate. Pay a more modest tribute to your stomach. Let your gullet moderate its taste for the liquid of Lyaeus, the cups of Bacchus. Drink sparingly that your lips may be thought to kiss, so to speak, the cups of Bacchus. Let water break Lyaeus' pride and An abundance of it temper Bacchus' rage. Let Thetis offer herself in marriage to Lyaeus And let her, once married to him, restrain her husband's tyrannical sway. Let a meal of food, that is ordinary, plain and rarely taken, Grind down the proud complaining flesh, So that the tyrant, ever arrogantly reigning in that flesh, may exercise a more moderated pressure on you. Thus tenacious Cupid will take a rest. Let the reins on Cupid within you be tightened And the sting of the flesh will grow faint and dull: The flesh will thus become the handmaiden of the spirit. Add bolts to the door of your sight to Keep your eyes in check, lest your eager eye hunt abroad with too little shame and bring back to your mind a report of game. If the desire of possession intoxicates some, Let them compel money to quit their minds. Let ambition feel the mind's triumph over it. Let greed be overcome and its neck be put beneath the yoke. Let not money itself tarry in closed purses and indulge in a sluggard's sleep, devoting itself to no one: Rather let it rise from its bed to be the guardian of right and to be of use to the rich man. If the opportunity offers, if the occasion demands it, let the mass of buried treasure arise, Let the purses completely disgorge their cash. Let every gift be a soldier in the army of the right. If you wish to trample on pride's neck, on the winds of vanity, on the powers that destroy the spirit, consider the burden of being born destined to die, the toils of life, death that cuts you off at the end.

Ne te gulosae Scylla voraginis Mergat profunda nocte libidinum Praebe palato frena modestiae, Ventri tributum solve modestius, Imbrem Lyaei semita gutturis Libet modeste Bacchica pocula: Pota parumper, ut quasi poculis Bacchi putetur os dare basia. Frangat Lyaei lympha superbiam, Bacchi furorem flumina temperent: Nuptam Lyaeo se Thetis offerat, Frenet mariti nupta tyrannidem. Plebaea, simplex, rara comestio Carnis superbae murmura conterat. Ut te tyrannus parcius urgeat, Semper in ista carne superbiens, Lentus Cupido sic aget otia, Frenentur in te frena libidinis, Languens stupescat carnis aculeus, Ancilla fiet sic caro spiritus: Largire visus pessula januae, Frenes ocellos, ne nimis improbe Venentur extra luminis impetus, Praedamque menti nuntius offerat. Si quos habendi fervor inebriat, Exire cogant, mente pecuniam, Mentis triumphum sentiat ambitus, Victi premantur colla Cupidinis. Non in crumenis ipsa pecunia Clausis moretur, pigraque dormiat, Nulli vacando, sed magis excubet, Custos honoris divitis usibus: Si tempus adsit, si locus exigat, Surgat sepultae massa pecuniae, Nummos crumenae funditus evomant. Quaevis honori munera militent. Calcare si vis colla superbiae, Flatus tumoris, fulmina spiritus, Pensa caducae pondus originis, Vitae labores mortis et apocham.

 

Titian's "Allegory of Marriage"

 

As Nature recites her poem, Hymenaeus, Venus's husband and the god of marriage, appears, displaying both the resiliency of youth, and the wisdom of age. He is the golden mean personified. Hymenaeus had a robe similar to Nature's robe, one which displayed stories that exalted the state of marriage.(For a description of Nature's robe in Alan de Lille's De Planctu Naturae, see Nature's Compliant: Alan of Lille's The Plaint of Nature, Part 2) But the "black paint of age," had almost covered up the images. Yet the images could still, however faintly, be seen.

 

Yet the picture's message kept insisting that there had been woven there the faithfulness proceeding from the sacrament of matrimony, the peaceful unity of married life, the inseparable bond of marriage, the indissoluble union of the wedded parties. For in the book of the picture there could be read in faint outline what solemn joy gives approval to marriage at its beginning, what sweet melody gives a festive, religious tone to the nuptials, what special gathering of guests shows their approbation of the marriage, what general joy rounds of the Cytherean's ceremonies.

Ibi tabulam sacramentalem testimonii, finem matrimonii, connubii pacificam unitatem, nuptiarum inseparabile jugum, nubentium indissolubile vinculum, lingua picturae fatebatur intextum. In picturae etenim libro umbratiliter legebatur, quae nuptiarum exsultationis applaudit solemnitas, quae in nuptiis melodiae solemnizet suavitas, quae connubiis convivarum arrideat generalitas specialis, quae matrimonia citharae concludat jucunditas generalis.

Nature places Hymenaeus on her right, the place of honor, and offers him her right hand, a sign of deep affection and affinity. Soon, chastity, a maiden of great beauty wearing resplendent white garments, and a turtle dove on her left hand, followed. She was followed by a group of virgins.

Chastity's clothes also showed pictures as if they were tableaux vivant, all in a variety of colors, of chastity's great victories, great martyrs, and her great traitors. Hipppolytus, resisting Phaedra, his stepmother. Daphne, who resisted the desires of Apollo, and was turned into the laurel. Lucretia, the wife of Lucius Tarquinius Collatinus, who, to redeem her rape and the involuntary violation of her chastity by Sextus Tarquinius. Penelope, the wife of Odysseus, who was faithful to her husband over the clamor of myriad suitors. Nature greeted Chastity with much joy.

 

Death of Lucretia by Botticelli
 

It appears that a synod of virtues was assembling. Chastity is followed by Temperance, who is the epitome of the Golden Mean, and displayed it in her mien, her gait, her clothing, and her jewelry. Following Temperance was Generosity, with her hands open an eager to embrace the needs of others, and whose hair and clothing bespoke of a heavenly heritage. Behind Generosity came Humility, a woman of diminutive stature, her eyes downcast, but of great beauty. Temperance and Generosity and Humility were all welcomed by Nature. Generosity and Humility's clothing also showed pictures:

On the these garments [of Generosity] a picture, unreal but credible by reason of the sophistic delusion inherent in painting, damned with the disgrace of anathema men who are afflicted with the notorious crime of Avarice.

. . .

There [on Humility's garment], inscribed in invented stories, could be read how in the catalogue of virtues Humility shines forth with the standard of distinction, while Pride, suspended by the brand of excommunication from the sacred synod of virtues, is condemned to the exile of ultimate banishment.

(continued)
 

MONDAY, JUNE 14, 2010

Nature's Complaint: Alan of Lille's The Plaint of Nature, Part 13

 

NATURE'S SORROW AND NATURE'S RIGHTEOUS ANGER is shared by all the virtues. The virtues all gathered around her, as nobles around a king, or cardinals around the pope. Nature then announces that she intends to seek justice against mankind for having ousted the virtues from their proper place. She intends to use the faculties and office of Genius to help her in the process against recalcitrant, fallen mankind:
 

 

O sole lights for man's darkness, morning stars of a world going down, planks specially devised for the shipwrecked, outstanding harbours for those tossed on the waves of the world, by my mature and deep-rooted knowledge I know what is the reason for your visit, what occasions your coming here, what causes your lamentation, what gives rise to your grief. Men, the only species formed with the quality of humanity, becoming depraved within by the vileness of bestial inconstancy, men, whom I regret having clothed with the cloak of humanity, are trying to dispossess you of your patrimony of a home in the world by totally usurping control on earth and forcing you to return to your home in heaven. Since my interests are at stake when the partition wall between is in fiery flames, sympathizing with your suffering consoling with you in your grief, in your groans, I encounter my own and find my own loss in your misfortune. Accordingly, ignoring no pertinent fact and finding the proper motivation in myself, in so far as I can extend the arm of my power, I will smite men with a punishment commensurate with their crimes. However, since I cannot pass the limits of my strength and it is not in my power to eradicate completely the poison of the pestilence, I will attain what is allowed by my power and will burn with the grand of anathema men who are ensnared in the tangle of the vices that I have mentioned. It is fitting, however, to consult Genius who serves me in a priestly office. With the support and assistance of my judiciary power, with the favour and aid of your assent, let him, with the pastoral staff of excommunication, remove them from the catalogue of the things of Nature, from the confines of my jurisdiction. Hymenaeus will discharge the office of an ambassador to him in the most approved manner: in Hymenaeus the shining stars of eloquence show their light; with him is stored the equipage for a plan of security.

O sola humanae tenebrositatis luminaria, occidentis mundi sidera matutina, naufragorum tabulae speciales, Portus mundialium fluctuum singulares! radicatae cognitionis maturitate cognosco quae sit vestri conventus ratio, quae adventus occasio, quae lamentationis causa, quae doloris exordia. Homines etenim sola humanitatis specie figurati, interius vero belluinae enormitatis deformitate dejecti, quos humanitatis chlamide doleo investisse, a terrenae inhabitationis patrimonio vos exhaeredare conantur, sibi terrenum funditus usurpando dominium, vos ad coeleste domicilium repatriare cogentes. Quoniam ergo res mea agitur, cum familiaris paries inflammatur incendio, vestrae compassioni compatiens, vestro dolori condolens, in vestro gemitu meum lego gemitum, in vestra adversitate meum invenio detrimentum. De contingentibus igitur nihil omittens, in me finem proprium consecuta, prout valeo brachium meae potestatis extendere, eos vindicta vitio respondente percutiam. Sed quia excedere limitem meae virtutis non valeo, nec meae facultatis est, hujus pestilentiae virus omnifariam exstirpare, meae possibilitatis regulam prosecuta, homines praedictorum vitiorum anfractibus irretitos anathematis cauteriabo charactere. Genium vero qui mihi in sacerdotali ancillatur officio, decens est suscitari, qui eos a naturalium rerum catalogo, a meae jurisdictionis confinio, meae judiciariae potestatis assistente praesentia, vestrae assensionis conveniente gratia, pastorali virga excommunicationis eliminet. Cujus legationis Hymenaeus erit probatissimus exsecutor; penes quem stellantis elocutionis astra lucescunt, penes quem examinatoris consilii locatur armarium.

 

Man had, indeed, made war on Nature and the virtues. Man had banished the virtues from their rightful home within man himself, had unjustly dispossessed them was to be rendered by Nature, through the advice and enforcement arm of Genius, the mediator and great high priest of reason. Man was to be excommunicate from Nature and declared renegade, and outlaw. Nature and mankind were at war. And Hymaneaus was appointed ambassador by which the message was brought to men. So it is, Alan of Lille's view, that the state of marriage determines the state of a people. It is in marriage and family life that we find Nature's judgment for man's rejection of virtue and the acceptance of vice. In the words of John Paul II at Perth, Australia on November 30, 1986: "As the family goes, so goes the nation, and so goes the whole world in which we live." (John Paul II, Homily, 30 November 1986). A country that suffers from rampant divorce and remarriage (serial polygamy), single parents, cohabitation, homosexual "marriages," contraceptive unions, and abortion is judged already. Virtue is ostracized; vice welcomed; Nature's judgment follows; as the first execution of the judgment against mankind is a levy against marriages and family life as they fall apart and social evils follow.

Music then breaks forth, and the poet describes each instrument and its effect on men: the trumpet (tuba), horn (cornu), cither (cithara), lyre (lyra), pipes (fistula), drums (cursum), organs (organa), cymbals (cymbala), pentachord (pentasonae), psaltery (psalterii), and the sistra (sistra). It is as if these instruments, so varied and so uniquely able to elicit a particular response from men, are symbols of the virtues, and how each, though an instrument of Nature has its own subtle means of forming the character of he who welcomes it habitually.

While Hymanaeus was attending to his diplomatic duties, and Nature composing an elegiac oration of her complaints, she thought of a vice that, more than any other, deserved reproof. For it, more than any other, had corrupted the nobility that it had been given as the foster-child of Generosity (Largitate), and more than any other corrupted the other virtues. The vice was the most virulent of moral cancers. It was Prodigality. Prodigalitate.

 

"Prodigality" (Illustration for Dante's Inferno) by Salvador Dali
 

Generosity was deeply affected by Nature's ire towards Prodigality, and Nature and Generosity converse about the seeming inappropriateness of Generosity's grief for her errant, corrupt, and distorted foster-child. Nature seeks to console Generosity. In response to Nature's query, Generosity explains her sorrow:

 

O first principle of all things born, O special preserver of all things, O queen of the earthly regions, O faithful vicar of heaven's prince, you, who under the authority of the eternal commander corrupt your faithful administration with no leaven; you, whom the entire universe is bound to obey by the demands of original justice: a golden chain of love links me with you as the manifest equality of close kinship requires. He, then, who in putting his nature up for sale by his abominable losses [Prodigality] assails you with the affront of an extraordinary rebellion, revolts against me with teh insolence of an equally shattering attack. Although he may be deceived by a belief in shades and phatoms and think that he is bearing arms under the flag of my interests, and men, decieved by a staged display of prodigality, may scent traces of Generosity in him, yet he is suspended from the benefit of friendly relationship with us by banishment to a far-off place. However, since it is our practice to show compassion for, and sympathy with, the detours of wayward error, I cannot help being moved by the baleful deviation of his foolish will.

O nativorum omnium originale principium! O rerum omnium speciale subsidium! O mundanae regionis regina! O suprema coelestis principis fidelis vicaria, quae sub imperatoris aeterni auctoritate, fidelem administrationem nulla fermentatione corrumpis. Cui universitas mundialis originis speciei exigentia obedire tenetur, prout intimae cognitionis expressa parilitas exigit, me tibi aurea dilectionis catena connectit. Illi igitur qui suam naturam damno venundans, te insultu nimiae rebellionis impugnat, mihi coequatae concussionis importunitate repugnat. Qui, quamvis umbratili credulitatis deceptus imagine, meis se credat commilitare comitiis, hominesque histrionali prodigalitatis figuratione decepti, in eo Largitatis odorent vestigia, tamen a nostrae amicationis beneficio longa relegatione suspenditur. Sed, quia nostrum est erroneae divagationis anfractibus compati condolendo, in ejus insensatae voluntatis exhibitione pestifera, non valeo non moveri.

Enter Genius.

(continued)
 

TUESDAY, JUNE 15, 2010

Nature's Complaint: Alan of Lille's The Plaint of Nature, Part 14 and Conclusion

 

GENIUS MAKES HIS ENTRANCE AMIDST JOYFUL MUSIC. He wears a coat of many colors, displayed seriatim: purple, then hyacinth, then scarlet, then white. On his garments flash, but briefly, too fast for mortal eyes to see, images of objects, so ephemeral is an individual life in the context of eternity. Genius has a reed-like pen in his right had that never rests. In his left, a parchment made of animal hide, in fact, a palimpsest, as it has been written upon, erased, written upon over and over again since the beginning of time, and will be erased and written upon again and again until time's end. On the palimpsest, "with the help of the obedient pen, he endowed with the life of their species images of things that kept changing from the shadowy outline of a picture to the realism of their actual being," in qua styli obsequentis subsidio, imagines rerum ab umbra picturae ad veritatem essentiae transmigrantes, vita sui generis donabantur. Alan of Lille's philosophy is showing here. On the issue of universals, Alan de Lille is clearly a philosophical moderate realist, and not a nominalist. The species are conceptual, blueprints, as it were, which Genius with his stylus individuates on the palimpsest within degress of freedom so as to make each unique, as they repeatedly are drawn (born) only to be erased (die) in a seemingly endless cycle of individuation of the ideal. Genius is given some freedom within a range of the species, as he can write with either his right hand or his left. If he writes with his right hand, the image is closer to the Ideal. If he writes with his left, it is further from the Ideal. Thus, if he writes with his right hand, Helen appears on the palimpsest as an image of Beauty, Turnus [King of the Rutulians] an image of impetuosity, Hercules of strength, Ulysses of cleverness, Cato of modest sobriety, Plato of genius, Cicero of speech, Aristotle of philosophical expression. If he writes with his left hand, instead of Helen shows up ugly Thersites. Instead of Cicero, who used his rhetorical gift for truth, Genius's left hand draws us Sinon, who used his rhetorical talent to deceive the Trojans. Instead of dexterous Plato, a genius among philosophers, appears sinistrous Ennius, a poet without genius.

 

Gustav Klimt "Veritas Nuda" (Detail)
 

Truth, Genius's daughter, stood beside Genius. She was the miraculous offspring of the chaste kiss, one of epicene, even mystic, love between Nature and Genius, her son. Truth was dressed in a robe "alight with a never-failing low of red" that never faded, symbol of the Holy Spirit, and which hung so close to her body so that there was no separation possible. Truth was born "at the time when the eternal Idea greeted Hyle [Unformed Matter, Urstoff, from Greek hyle (ὕλη)] as she begged for the mirror of forms and imprinted a vicarious kiss on her through the medium and intervention of Image," cum Ilem speculum formarum meditantem, aeternalis salutavit idea, eam iconiae interpretis interventu vicario osculata. The ternary of Nature, her son Genius, and his daughter Truth, are therefore temporal images of the very relationships between the Eternal Trinity: Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. The Holy Spirit--Spiritus veritatis--the Spirit of Truth is linked to the truth in Creation.

Falsehood was the ape of Truth.

 

Her face, darkened with the soot of ugliness, bespoke no gifts given her by Nature; rather old age, subjecting her face to the hollows of wrinkles, had gathered it all over into folds. It was plain to see that her head was not clothed with a veil of hair and it had no robe to cover its baldness: rather, a countless assemblage of rages, joined by limitless conjunction of threads, had woven a garment for her. This one, secretly lying in wait for the picture of truth, disgraced by deformity whatever truth graced by conformity.

Cujus facies turpitudinis nubilata fuligine, nulla in se naturae munera fatebatur, sed senectus faciem rugarum vallibus submittens, eam universaliter implicans collegerat. Caput nec crinis vestimento videbatur indutum, nec pepli velamentum excusabat calvitiem, sed panniculorum infinita pluralitas, quos filiorum pluralis infinitas ei texuerat vestimentum. Haec autem, picturae veritatis latenter insidians, quidquid illa conformiter informabat, ista informiter deformabat.

Nature, Genius, and Truth gather together, and Genius, hand in air to enjoin silence, utters the following formal declaration of excommunication against man, for having shunned the virtues, courted vices, and thereby taken arms against Nature, Genius, and Truth. First the verdict.

 

O Nature, it is not without the divine breath of interior inspiration that there has come from you balanced judgement this imperial edict, to the effect that all who strive to make our laws obsolete by misuse and desuetude . . . should be struck with the sword of anathema. . . .

O Natura, non sine internae spirationis afflatione divina, a tuae discretionis libra istud imperiale processit edictum, ut omnes qui abusiva desuetudine, nostras leges aboletas reddere moliuntur, et in nostrae solemnitatis feria feriantes, anathematis gladio feriantur. . . .

Nature accepted Genius's statement, thanked him, and Genius then changed into his priestly garments. Then in all formality, with his full robes of hieratic office, Genius declares the decree of excommunication.

 

Henry IV Excommunicated by Pope Gregory VII
 

 

By the authority of the super-essential Usia [from the Greek, Ousia (Οὐσία) or "Being")] and his eternal Idea, with the assent of the heavenly army, with the combined aid and help of Nature and the other recognised virtues, let everyone who blocks the lawful path of Venus, or courts the shipwreck of gluttony or the nightmares of drunkennes, or indulges the fire of thirsty avarice, or scales the shadowy heights of insolent arrogance, or submits to the death of the heart in envy, or makes a companion of the hypocritical love of flattery--let every such be separate from the kiss of heavenly love as his ingratitude deserves and merits, let him be demoted from Nature's favour, let him be set apart from the harmonious council of the things of Nature.

Auctoritate superessentialis Usiae, ejusque notionis aeternae, assensu coelestis militiae, naturae etiam, caeterarumque virtutum ministerio suffragante, a supernae dilectionis osculo separetur, ingratitudinis exigente merito, a naturae gratia degradetur, a naturalium rerum uniformi concilio segregetur, omnis qui aut legitimum Veneris obliquat incessum, aut gulositatis incurrit naufragium, aut ebrietatis sentit insomnium, aut avaritiae sitiens experitur incendium, aut insolentis arrogantiae umbratile ascendit fastigium, aut praecordiale patitur livoris exitium, aut adulationis amorem communicat fictitium.

Following the judgment of excommunication, Genius follows with the announcement of the sanction against those who have betrayed Nature. What follows is a sort of Dantean contrapasso (or "counterpoise" or "countersuffering"), where the sins are punished by being subjected to a process that either apes or contrasts with the sin being punished.

 

Let him who makes an irregular exception to the rule of Venus be deprived of the seal of Venus. Let him who buries himself in the abyss of gluttony be punished by a shameful impoverishment. Let him who benumbs himself in the Lethe-flood of drunkenness be harassed by the fires of perpetual thirst. Let him who has burning thirst for gain be assailed by the wants of unceasing poverty. Let him who has raised himself to the top of the precipice of avarice and belches forth his wind of exaltation come down in ruination to the valley of humiliation and dejection. let him who in envy gnaws the riches of another's happiness with the worm of detraction be the first to discover that he is his own enemy. Let him who hunts for paltry gifts from the rich by his hypocritical flatter by cheated by the reward of deceptive worth.

Qui autem a regula Veneris exceptionem facit anormalam, Veneris privetur sigillo. Qui gulositatis mergitur in abysso, mendicitatis erubescentia castigetur. Qui ebrietatis lethaeo flumine soporatur, perpetuatae sitis vexetur incendiis. Ille in quo sitis incandescit habendi, perpetuatas egestates incurrat. Qui in praecipitio arrogantiae exaltatus, spiritum elevationis eructat, in vallem dejectae humilitatis ruinose descendat. Qui alienae felicitatis divitias tinea detractionis invidendo demordet, primo se ibi hostem inveniat. Qui adulationis hypocrisi a divitibus venatur munuscula, sophistici meriti fraudetur praemio

Nature's court applauded the condemnation of the vicious. The candles of the formal rite of excommunication are extinguished.

And the poet, waking from his ecstatic swoon, leaves the presence of Nature and her court.

So the poem ends.

Finis