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Chapter 5 assesses the patronage and use of books in the late ninth and early tenth centuries. The following case studies are discussed: two earlier Anglo-Saxon prayerbooks (the Book of Cerne and Book of Nunnaminster) to which new material was added, a new volume of Latin hagiographies (Paris, Bibliothèque nationale de France, lat. 5574), and a Carolingian manuscript to which several additions were made by English-trained scribes (London, British Library, Cotton Vespasian D. xiv, fols. 170–224). Engagement with these books took place in diverse settings, some of which were more informal than one might expect. The motivations for such activity are assessed too. These case studies pave the way for a holistic assessment of the contemporary manuscript corpus. Physical qualities, texts and languages are considered, as are the possible settings in which books were produced and used. Attention is drawn to the evidence for female book use, and to the importance of international networks. Continuities with earlier decades are acknowledged, as are new developments, including a more pronounced association between books and bishops. The chapter closes with a call to remain open-minded about this book culture’s range of social contexts and participants.
Dante traces the question of happiness to our nature, knowledge of which is available.His decision to persist in rational inquiry is not arbitrary as rests on such knowledge. At the heart of Paradiso Dante speaks with his ancestor Cacciaguida about Florentine politics and nobility because the needed self-knowledge is gained through reflection on political life. From the contemplative unity characteristic of the previous Heaven to the political conflict in Mars is an ascent.
The key discussion concerns how candidly Dante’s poem should express the truth. The literary question points to the political problem of posed by the enduring tensions among human goods, and these tensions disclose the conflicts inherent in an embodied mind. Among beings that desire and reason, that are “mortal” and aware of their mortality, there is decisive inequality, inequality regarding the willingness and ability to discern truth.The scope of this difference defies the possibility that good can be understood by deduction from a principle or law, making it a matter for inquiry. The life devoted to this inquiry, as indicated in these central Cantos, is available here and now and grounds every genuinely common good. Dante calls his epic of self-reflection a “comedy.”
Chapter 15 compares the personifications of philosophy which we find in Synesius’ De regno and in Boethius’ Consolation of Philosophy. I describe the relationship between philosophy and politics, as presented by Synesius, as ‘tense’. Synesius, ambassador for Cyrene at the court of Constantinople at the beginning of the fifth century (and later bishop of Cyrene), asserts the superiority and independence of true philosophy in relation to politics, while asserting the advantages that philosophy can bring to politics. Boethius, a high-ranking Roman official awaiting his execution in 524, is consoled by Philosophy; his mission to bring philosophy and rulership together was not in vain. I mention three factors which can limit the intervention of philosophy in the political sphere.
The first chapter provides a short survey of the language of joy as it is found in philosophical, theological and mystical works that have a strong bearing upon European medieval literature as a whole. It shows how some influential theoretical and mystical works shape a cognitive and conceptual language of joy as exterior to the self, a place of alterity that the human mind cannot contain within itself but must enter through love and self-forgetfulness. Through an exploration of some of the writings of St Augustine, Boethius, Thomas Aquinas and Bernard of Clairvaux, I argue that this language is constructed in opposition to that of philosophical happiness which consists in self-sufficiency and intellectual contemplation. The chapter ends with a study of the mystic Marguerite Porete’s language of divine union as an entering of the sea of joy, which blends the monastic and courtly discourses of love.
In this text, Albert deals with Augustine’s theory of the image of the Trinity. An examination of this theory leads him to an investigation of the relation between the soul and its powers. Albert contends that the soul and its powers are distinct. He maintains that the soul’s powers are propria, that is, necessary accidents, and following Avicenna he claims that they “flow” from the essence of the soul. In this text, Albert also considers the identity theory, on which the soul and its powers are the same entity but rejects it because it “borders on heresy”. He argues that the identification of the soul and its powers is perilously close to the identification of essence and power in God. Finally, Albert invokes the Boethian notion of a “power-whole” (totum potentiale) to develop his own account of the soul and its powers and to make sense of the Augustinian claim that our rational soul is an image of the Trinity. Albert was one of the main defenders of the distinction theory in the second half of the thirteenth century, and his version of this theory influenced Aquinas.
Discovered in 1995, the remarkable thirteenth-century frescoes in the great hall, or Aula Gotica, of Rome's Santi Quattro Coronati complex are among the most important vestiges of medieval Italian painting. In this volume, Marius Hauknes offers a thorough investigation of the fresco cycle, which includes allegorical representations of the liberal arts, the virtues and vices, the seasons, the signs of the zodiac, and the months of the year. Hauknes relates these subjects to the papacy's growing interest in fields of worldly knowledge, such as music, time, astrology, and medicine. He argues that the Santi Quattro Coronati frescoes function as a large-scale, interactive encyclopedia that not only represented secular knowledge but also produced philosophical speculation, stimulating beholders to draw connections between pictorial motifs across architectural space. Integrating medieval intellectual history with close attention to multi-sensory and architectural conditions of fresco Hauknes' study offers new insights into religion, art, science, and spectatorship in medieval Italy.
The bucolic poems of Martius Valerius, first published in 1946, used to be dated to the twelfth century, but thanks to the work of François Dolbeau and Justin Stover, they are now securely dated to the sixth. In this article, I demonstrate that Martius’ fourth eclogue draws extensively on two of the logical works of Boethius, the introduction to the second edition of the commentary on Porphyry's Isagoge and the translation of Aristotle's Peri hermeneias, both from the mid 510s. These works were well known in the twelfth century, but I corroborate the sixth-century dating first by connecting Martius Valerius with Martius Novatus Renatus, editor of a corpus of Boethius’ logical monographs in the 520s, and secondly by arguing that Martius Valerius belonged to a circle of students in Rome who attached themselves to leading senators, including Boethius. I end by considering Martius’ career as quaestor and consul.
When Lady Philosophy suggests that Boethius’ definition of himself as a rational mortal animal is inadequate, it implies that a superior self-understanding is contained within the Consolation. This chapter argues that this more adequate self-understanding – that Boethius, via participation in God, is himself divine – is implicit in the text and unpacks the profound implications and consolations of this interpretation of the self. Being a rational animal is more than being this specific living thing; it is also an opportunity to manifest divine intelligibility and goodness in the world. The chapter focuses on two perplexing arguments in Book IV that are unsatisfying without this interpretation of Boethius’ identity: that the punished are happier than those who escape punishment and that it is possible to attach ourselves to Providence and escape from Fate. The difficulties that most people will face in accepting these arguments are the direct result of the challenge of adopting this self-interpretation.
Boethius’ initial question in the Consolation of Philosophy is why God, who orders the natural universe beautifully, would allow human affairs to proceed in a chaotic fashion, even permitting the wicked to trample on the virtuous and go unpunished. Lady Philosophy responds that God governs everything well. What seem to limited human beings to be misfortunes can all be turned to good. This introduces the importance of human free will and a perennial question for Christian philosophers: If God foreknows future choices, can they be free? Human foreknowledge is a sign that the foreknown event does not happen voluntarily. God, being eternal, sees all time as present, and so divine foreknowledge does not impose or indicate any necessity that would conflict with free will. Boethius concludes by expressing theist compatibilism: Even free choices fall under the absolute sovereignty of God.
There is a difference between being a philosopher and mastering the technical aspects of philosophy. The technician is at home with axioms and abstract problems. Although the philosopher can weave his way through apparently pathless conundra, the conundra are not the philosopher’s home; his home is reality: the τὸ τί ἐστι (being of things) that tend toward ὁ ἀγαθός (the good) and ἡ ἀλήθεια (the truth). When Boethius was unjustly condemned to death, he was a blind man when it came to reality: despite his technical prowess, he was stumped by the problem of evil. The Consolatio is an account of the ascent of the mind of a technician imprisoned by the painful experience of injustice to the mind of the philosopher who can see Providence at work in creation.
This chapter demonstrates that the doctrines contained in the Consolatio philosophiae unite and reconcile, in an elegant and balanced way, pagan Platonist philosophy and Christian faith. The most fertile ground for verifying this thesis is the third book of the Consolatio, with its Timaeus-inspired O qui perpetua hymn (III.m9), its talk of deification (III.10.24–5), its biblical paraphrase of Wisdom 8:1 (III.12.22), and its account of God understood in terms of happiness, goodness, and unity. As Boethius tells us in his second commentary on Aristotle’s On Interpretation (80.1–6), he thought that the philosophies of Plato and Aristotle were, if properly interpreted, complementary expressions of one truth. I argue that Boethius took a similar view regarding pagan Platonist philosophy and Christianity: although on the surface there might be some disagreement, both can be harmonized in such a way as to offer complementary expressions of the one truth. The pagan and Christian references in Book III support the conclusion that the Consolation enacts a harmonization of pagan Platonist philosophy and Christianity without distorting either.
Boethius’ Consolation of Philosophy, a philosophical dialogue in the “prosimetric” or mixed form (prose and poetry), has attracted broad literary and philosophical readerships in both the Latin West and Greek East from the ninth century on. The two readerships, however, have not regularly overlapped or engaged with one another in their respective efforts to interpret the work. The purposes of this study are to enable a more informed appreciation of the philosophical implications of its more “literary” books (I–II) and the literary significance of its more transparently philosophical ones (III–V), and to bring its overall architecture into clearer focus. To these ends, a case is made at the outset for the complete state of the transmitted text of the work.
Reading the Consolatio, it is possible to come away with the impression that the consolation Boethius sought while imprisoned was provided by philosophy as opposed to Christian faith. This impression has led some to doubt Boethius’ commitment to Christianity. The idea that there is a tension between Boethius’ Christianity and philosophy is not new, although scholarly disagreement over its significance has increased over the past hundred years. This chapter reviews the history of the debate concerning Boethius’ Christianity in the Consolatio and argues that the problem of Boethius’ faith must be formulated not in terms of an opposition between Christianity and Greco-Roman philosophy, but as a particular feature of sixth-century Latin Christianity.
The Consolation presents two especially puzzling features that make its exegesis particularly challenging. Literarily, it adopts an uncommon style for a philosophical text, the prosimetrum, which combines prose with poetry. Content-wise, it develops a cogent philosophical message that, perplexingly, is conveyed in a labyrinthine way. These exegetical difficulties disappear if we interpret the Consolation as a form of self-examination grounded in Neoplatonic philosophy. The meandering way in which the text expresses its message illustrates Boethius’ inner conflict brought about by his sudden political fall. The root cause of his conflict is an unresolved tension within the Neoplatonic account of the human soul: the difficulty of reconciling our material self with our divine self. The Consolation’s highly unusual combination of prose and poetry is steeped in some of the basic principles of Neoplatonic pedagogy.
Boethius’ Consolation of Philosophy promises an existential consolation that results from a philosophical insight. But what exactly does this consolation consist in and what is the insight that provides it? This chapter argues that Boethius’ philosophical consolation arises from an insight into the highest principle (principium) of practical knowledge: God conceived of as the highest good (summum bonum). For Boethius, the cognition of this principle also leads to an insight into a comprehensive cosmic order, ruled by God as the highest good, against the background of which even painful experiences, such as those of the first-person narrator of the Consolation, can be reassessed. Given that Boethius’ notion of consolation is embedded in the context of the Greco–Roman philosophical tradition, this chapter considers the metaphysical underpinnings of Boethius’ practical philosophy in light of his main philosophical predecessors: Plato, Aristotle, the Neoplatonists, and Augustine.
While it is common to compare Boethius’ philosophy with that of his intellectual predecessors and heirs, as far as I know there are no studies comparing Boethius and his most well-known Greek contemporary, Dionysius the Areopagite. Yet both were Christians who were inspired by Plato and deeply influenced by Proclean Neoplatonism. This chapter begins to fill this lacuna in the literature by comparing the way that Boethius in the Consolation of Philosophy and Dionysius in On Divine Names employ key Neoplatonic ideas and metaphors in speaking and thinking about God’s nature and providence. The chapter compares how Boethius and Dionysius employ Neoplatonic sphere and circle metaphors (1) to illustrate how God is both completely simple and yet also has, or rather is, a multiplicity of “attributes” or activities, and (2) to articulate the relationship between God and creatures in terms of remaining, proceeding, and reverting.
Boethius, like his Neoplatonic predecessors, poses a challenge to contemporary readers of the Consolation seeking to understand the world he thinks we occupy. That world involves a timeless, simple, but all-knowing creator god and a time-bound, infinite creation that is patterned from the ideas in the divine mind. The purpose of this chapter is to provide a modest illumination into the world as it is conceived in the Consolation by examining two fundamental Boethian categories and their relationship: the eternal and the temporal. The chapter examines the extent to which we should see these categories providing guidance as to the nature of beings rather than expressing the epistemic perspectives those beings have. By noting the limits, we will draw conclusions about the persistence of temporal beings; the ontological status possessed by future, present, and past states of affairs; and what characterizes eternal existence.
Boethius’ Consolation of Philosophy was one of the most influential texts in medieval Europe. Yet it does not receive enough attention in contemporary scholarship on medieval philosophy. This is in part explained by the content and literary form of the Consolation. The direct influence of Plato and late antique Neoplatonism, the dialogue form, the alternating prose and poetry sections, and the wealth of references to classical literature and mythology contrast sharply with the sort of texts most contemporary scholars of medieval philosophy focus on. The essays in this volume tackle these interpretive challenges and reveal some of the rich philosophical insights the Consolation offers. Chapters 1–3 directly address its literary features and their philosophical significance. Chapters 4 and 5 consider the relationship between the Consolation and Boethius’ Christianity. Chapters 6–8 offer three different takes on the philosophy of selfhood, or philosophical anthropology, so central to the Consolation. Chapters 9–13 deal with the more standard metaphysical and theological issues, such as Boethius’ accounts of goodness, being, God, time, eternity, and human freedom.
Recognition of Boethius’ Philosophia as allegorical personification is critical for understanding the positive portrayal given her in the Consolatio. It explains the elaborate identifying markers given in metaphorical reference to the lady as nurse, physician, and teacher. It also helps to explain her ontological status as a source of inspiration for “the prisoner.” This chapter notes her pedagogical strategy in consolation for a patient and compassionate approach, demonstrating feminine qualities that effectively balance the rigorous argument by which she finally moves the prisoner from despair to renewed hope and dignity.
The Consolation defends many claims about human nature and personhood, and depicts an exemplary human person, Boethius the character. This chapter synthesizes the book’s often puzzling and apparently divergent claims, while illustrating them with the depiction of the character of Boethius. It begins by outlining Boethius’ account of human powers and human nature, and then considers the Consolation’s account of human personhood. While Boethius’ account of personhood in the Consolation lacks the technical precision found in his Trinitarian works, he does give an account of some fundamental characteristics of persons consonant with his more explicit treatment in other texts. Finally, the chapter considers three distinctive themes in the Consolation’s account of human persons. First, this text controversially depicts human nature as able to change into that of a god or of a beast. Second, the Consolation depicts all human persons as microcosms, including within ourselves all aspects of the cosmos. Third, Boethius, like many classical writers, depicts human persons as most understandable in relation to beauty. Since this theme sums up earlier ones, the chapter closes there.