De septem septenis — Soliloquium

HERE we continue translation of the section on contemplation in De septem septenis (On the Seven Sevens) that considers seven forms of contemplation (meditatio, soliloquium, circumspectio, ascensio, revelatio, emissio and inspiratio, which we’re taking out of order.  Below is translated the section on the activity the unknown author calls soliloquium (soliloquy).   St. Augustine was the first to use this word in his work Soliloquies.  Soliloquy, or, literally, solitary conversation, was especially associated with the Augustinian tradition in the Middle Ages, but this tradition influenced not only Augustinians (e.g., the School of St. Victor) but virtually all theological literature.

The author of De septem understands soliloquium as an inner dialogue that involves gaining self-knowledge (he explicitly alludes to the Delphic maxim, Know Thyself.)  This self-knowledge is a humble recognition of ones limitations, frailty, capacity for sin and self-delusion — leading to awareness of ones utter dependence on salvation from God.  This, along with meditatio and circumspectio, helps prepare the soul for higher forms of contemplation.

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6] Soliloquium sequitur, quod est alicuius ad se et de se solum eloquium, ipsius hominis generans contemptum. Soliloquium dicitur, quia vir se solum alloquitur, id est cum homo interior ab exteriori non turbetur, sed cordis secreta rimatur, mentem et conscientiam ob sui contemptum considerat et speculatur. Soliloquium vero tribus fit modis, ex gratia inspirante, ex meditatione, ex oratione.

6] Soliloquy follows, which is someone’s speaking only to himself and about himself, generating contempt [or criticism?] for the person himself. It is called a soliloquy, because a man addresses himself alone, that is, when the inner man is not disturbed by the outer, but searches the secrets of the heart, considers and watches the mind and conscience because of self-contempt. But this soliloquy is done in three ways, by inspiring grace, by meditation, and by prayer.

7] Ex gratia oritur in compunctionem, ex meditatione excitatur in devotionem, ex oratione formatur in bonam voluntatem. Compunctio in fletum miserabilem erumpit, devotio mentem ad coelestia erigit, bona voluntas ad opus celeriter tendit; fletus vero miserabilis misericordem Dominum expetit. Mens erecta cordis ima praecurrit, bonae voluntatis opus ipsius hominis contemptum ostendit.

7] From grace soliloquy rises into compunction; from meditation it is awakened into devotion; from prayer it is formed into good will. Compunction bursts into pitiful weeping, devotion raises the mind to heavenly things, good will tends quickly to work. But the pitiful one cries out for the merciful Lord.  An erect mind (mens erecta) runs through the depths of the heart, and shows contempt for the work of the good will of man himself.

8] De fletu vero miserabili Propheta dicit: Exaudivit Dominus vocem fletus mei. [Psal. VI.] Hic fletus, id est lacrymarum pro peccatis emissio, non nobis, sed vocem habent Deo. Et hic fletus est utilis et pius; pius vero fletus et inutilis fit pro morte parentum, nec pius nec utilis, pro amissione temporalium bonorum.

De mente autem erecta, quae conscientiae ima disquirit, sapientia in tripode Apollinis sic describit: Verbum de coelo descendit; notis elytos, (gnothi seauton,) id est nosce te ipsum.

8] Concerning weeping, the prophet says: The Lord has heard the voice of my weeping. [Ps. 6:8] This weeping, that is the shedding of tears for sins, is not for us, but they have a voice for God. And this weeping is useful and pious; but weeping is not pious and useful for loss of temporal things, not even for the death of parents.

Now of ones erect mind, which penetrates the bottom of conscience, the wisdom on the tripod of Apollo describes said words that descended from heaven, gnothi seauton, that is, Know Thyself.*

* To know one is mortal and morally weak, but capable of improvement with God’s help.

9] Tripos Apollinis: triplex sapientiae intellectus, historialis, mysticus et moralis. Per historialem homo exterior interiori condescendit; per mysticum homo interior secreta cordis, id est mentem et conscientiam scrutatur et discutit; per moralem, unde sit, quid, et ad quid, agnoscit; unde sit, ex materia figuli, id est ex limo terrae; quid sit, vas scilicet fictile, sed timendum ne fiat vas contumeliae; ad quid, ut revertatur in pulverem terrae.

9] The Tripod of Apollo: the triple wisdom of the intellect, historical, mystical and moral. Through history* man descends from the exterior to the interior; through mysticism the inner man examines and discusses the secrets of the heart, that is, the mind and conscience; through morality, he recognizes where he is from, what he is, and for what purpose; whence it is, from the material of the potter, that is from the silt of the earth; what it is, an earthen vessel, of course, but to be feared lest it become a vessel of insult; to what end, that he should return to the dust of the earth.

* The course of ones material life. It might be apt here to consider St. Paul’s words, the fruit of his own self-examination: But I see another law in my members, warring against the law of my mind, and bringing me into captivity to the law of sin which is in my members. O wretched man that I am! who shall deliver me from the body of this death? [Rom.7: 23−24]

10]  Hinc Iob se in pulvere sedere et dormire dicit [Iob. XLII]. In pulvere sedet et dormit qui in mutabilium levitate sopitus, nisi magno labore surgere nequit. Hinc David mane floreat [Psal. LXXXIX], et tunc mane, id est, in pueritia et in iuventute floret, sed in vespere, id est in morte decidit, indurat in cadavere, arescit in pulvere, quia post hominem cadaver, post cadaver vermis, post vermem efficitur cinis.

10] Hence Job says that he sits and sleeps in the dust [Job. 42:6; Wherefore I abhor myself, and repent in dust and ashes; KJV].  One sits and sleeps in the dust, who is asleep in the lightness of changeable things, unless he is able to get up with great effort. Hence David may flourish in the morning [Ps. 90:6; In the morning it flourisheth, and groweth up; in the evening it is cut down, and withereth; KJV] — that is, flourishes in childhood and youth, but in the evening, that is, in death, it falls, turns into a corpse, dries up in the  dust, because after a man a corpse, after a corpse a worm, after a worm it becomes ashes.

11] Sic igitur sapientia in tripode hominis conditionem, mutabilitatem innotescit, et sui contemptum evidentius exprimit.

11] Thus wisdom on the tripod of Apollo recognizes man’s condition, changeability, and expresses his self-contempt more clearly.

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Bibliography

Baron, Roger (ed.). De contemplatione et ejus speciebus (La Contemplation et Ses Espèces). Desclée, 1955.

Giles, J. A. (ed.). De septem septenis. In: Joannis Saresberiensis postea episcopi camotensis opera omnia, vol. V: Opuscula.  Oxford, 1848; 209−238. Reprinted in Jacques-Paul

Migne, Patrologia Latina, vol. 199, cols. 945−965. Paris, 1855. [Latin text] [Latin text]

Németh, Csaba. Fabricating philosophical authority in the Twelfth Century: The Liber Egerimion and the De septem septenis. Authorities in the Middle Ages. De Gruyter, 2013; 69−87.

Starbuck, C.C. (tr.). St. Augustine of Hippo: Soliloquies. From: Philip Schaff (ed.), Nicene and Post-Nicene Fathers, First Series, Vol. 7, Buffalo, NY. Online editor: Kevin Knight.

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De septem septenis

De septem septinis, London British Library MS Harley 3969, fol. 206v

THE mystagogical work De septem septenis (On the Seven Sevens) is a curious medieval treatise. It was written in the early 12th century — but probably not by the scholastic philosopher, John of Salisbury, to whom it’s attributed.  The overall orientation is Christian, yet it includes references to Hermetic, Platonic and Chaldean teachings. Its title refers to seven groups of seven things each:

1. Seven steps to learning;
2. Seven liberal arts;
3. Seven windows of the soul (two eyes, two ears, two nostrils and mouth);
4. Seven faculties of the mind (animus, mens, imaginatio, opinio, ratio, intellectus, memoria);
5. Seven cardinal and theological virtues;
6. Seven types of contemplation (meditatio, soliloquium, circumspectio, ascensio, revelatio, emissio, inspiratio); and
7. Seven principles of Nature.

It is not to be confused with De quinque septenis (On the Five Sevens), a more traditionally themed work by Hugh of St. Victor that relates the seven petitions of the Lord’s Prayer, the seven gifts of the Holy Spirit, the seven Beatitudes, the seven virtues, and the seven deadly sins. That work became the source of many medieval illustrations of the so-called Wheel of Sevens.

The background of Septem septenis — what little we can surmise from the internal evidence — is most interesting.  According to Németh (2013), a single sentence in Martianus Capella’s 5th century Latin work, De nuptiis Philologiae et Mercurii (On the Marriage of Philology and Mercury) — a popular work in the Middle Ages and principle source on the divisions of education known as the Trivium and the Quadrivium — made an ambiguous reference to what was understood to be an ancient work on “divinization,” called the egerimion. The Septem septimis, Németh suggests, is an attempt of an anonymous medieval Christian writer to either reconstruct or imitate the fabled egerimion, which it explicitly mentions.

The seven sections of Septem septimis appear somewhat cobbled together from various sources. Section 6 is an abridged version of De contemplatione et ejus speciebus (On Contemplation and its Species), a work possibly by Richard of St. Victor. Section 7 may have some connection with the School of Chartres, which studied and commented on the cosmological theories of Plato’s Timaeus.

Is this just a mishmash — some student forgery or prank?  Or is there an internal consistency and coherent message, which the author wishes to communicate in a very creative and non-traditional way?  As there has been no modern interest in the work (it’s never been translated) it’s perhaps too early to say.

As discussed in the last post, Google Latin-to-English translation has reached now reached a respectable level of accuracy.  Below are lightly edited Google translations of the Section 1 and part of Section 6.  The former sets the stage by claiming the authority of ancient Greek and Chaldean writings — which, the author claims, unlike the Latin tradition, are not limited by a narrow focus on rationalism.  The latter passage discusses a kind of contemplation which the author calls ascension.

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Sect. 1. Prima septena de septem modis eruditiomis

Section 1.  The First Seven are the Seven Modes of Learning

CHALDAEI et Græci sapientiam quærunt: Latine veritatem inquirunt: illi quærunt et inveniunt, quia mores cum scientia componunt; isti inquirunt et non inveniunt, quia disputationis potius cavillationi quam veritatis inquisitioni insistunt.

The Chaldaeans and Greeks seek wisdom, Latins inquire after truth. The former seek and find, because they combine morals with knowledge; the latter search and do not find, because they dispute and cavil rather than only search for truth.

Cavillosa vero disputatio ingenium exercendo excitat, in qua si moram fecerit obtundit et fascinat: quod quidem in invio et non in via veritatis hebes et palpans errat; veritatis autem inquisitio cotis vice clarum ingenium et subtile reddit: in viam regiam mentem dirigit, mentis oculos ad ardua erigit.

A caviling discussion may exercise and awaken the intellect, but, if prolonged, it stuns and fascinates: which, indeed, errs dull and groping and not in the path of truth. But a genuine search for truth on the other hand makes the intellect clear and subtle: it directs the mind in the royal road, it raises the eyes of the mind to the heights.

Et licet hisce oculis quandoque quædam aperiantur quæ latuerunt, adhuc tamen multa latent, quæ comprehendi non possunt, vel subtilitate, quia sensum effugiunt, vel obscuritate, quia nec studium nec ingenium admittunt, vel immensitate, quia rationem et intellectum excedunt. Hinc est igitur quod divina quædam sunt quæ in manifestationem veniunt et ad cognitionem se exponunt. Sed quoniam subtilia, difficilia et ardua sunt, tanquam inscrutabilia fere omnes prætermittunt. Hæc prima rerum principia, id est rerum causæ latentes et cognitiones dicuntur. De quibus præclara Chaldæorum tantum scripta ad majorem veritatis evidentiam scrutantur.

And though these eyes may sometimes reveal some things which were hidden, yet many things are still hidden which cannot be comprehended, either by subtlety, because they escape the senses, or by obscurity, because they admit neither study nor genius, or by immensity, because they exceed reason and Intellect. Hence it is that there are divine things which come into manifestation and expose themselves to knowledge. But since they are subtle, difficult, and arduous, almost everyone dismisses them as inscrutable. These are called the first principles of things, that is, the latent causes of things and knowledge. Of which only the famous writings of the Chaldeans are carefully searched for the greater evidence of the truth.

Alia vero quædam divina tam profunda, tam occulta, tam intima et omnino impenetrabilia sunt, ut nulla ratione scrutari, nullo intellectu percipi, nulla sapientia investigari possint. Unde Apostolus Quod notum Dei et manifestum est in illis. Quum dicit quod notum Dei est, id est noscibile de Deo, ostendit plane ex his quæ Dei sunt et in Deo aliquid esse manifestum, aliquid occultum. Sed quod manifestum est, per scientias posse contingi.

Things are so deep, so hidden, so intimate, and completely impenetrable, that they cannot be rationally studied, perceived by any understanding, or investigated by any wisdom. Wherefore the Apostle says, What is known of God and is manifest in them. When he says that what is known of God, that is, that is knowable of God, he clearly shows that from the things that are of God and in God there is something manifest, something hidden. But what is clear is that it can be reached through science.

Quod prorsus absconditum est, nulla ratione posse penetrari. Et haec sunt secreta illa, quæ non licet homini loqui. Proinde, ut in Apostolo scribitur, Sapientiam inter perfectos loquimur. Sapientia namque Pallas, id est nova dicitur, quia scandens ad eam minoratur. Minerva vel Athena, id est immortalis, vocatur, quia verbo et opere eam sequens ad immortalitatem rapitur. Hæc igitur Tritonia, id est trina notio, nuncupatur, quia humano animo sapientia illustrato engerimion, id est surrationis liber aperitur, in quo ab humanis ad divina surgere septem septenis eruditur, et ad trinam, humanæ scilicet naturæ, angelicæ et divinæ, notionem ascendere perfectius instruitur.

What is completely hidden cannot be penetrated by rationality. And these are those secrets which it is not lawful for a man to speak. Therefore, as it is written in the Apostle, we speak wisdom among the perfect. For wisdom is Pallas, that is, it is said to be new, because when one ascends to it, it diminishes. Minerva or Athena, that is, immortal [JU: apparently from athanatos, undying], is called because following her in word and deed he is carried away to immortality. Therefore this Tritonia, that is, the triple concept, is called, because in the human mind, enlightened wisdom engerimion, that is, the book of resurrection is opened, in which it is learned to rise from the human to the divine seven sevens, and to ascend more perfectly to the triple concept, that is, the human nature, the angelic and the divine is instructed.

Septem sunt modi primæ septenæ, quibus humanus animus in perfectam eruditionem introducitur. Primus modus est, omnium artium doctrinam velle, secundus est delectari quod velis: tertius instare ad id quod delectat: quartus, concipere quod instat: quintus, memorare quod concipit, sextus invenire aliquid simile: septimus ex his omnibus extorquere quod est utile.

There are seven ways, the first seven, by which the human mind is introduced into perfect learning. The first way is to desire the learning of all arts, the second is to delight in what you want, the third to insist on what delights, the fourth to conceive what is urgent, the fifth to remember what one conceives, the sixth to discover similitudes, the seventh to wring from all these things that are useful.

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Sect. 6. Sexta septema de septem generibus contemplationis

Section 6.  The Sixth Seven are the Seven Kinds of Contemplation

SEXTA septena de septem generibus contemplationis sequitur, in quibus anima requiescens jucundus immoratur. Septem sunt contemplationis genera, meditatio, soliloquium, circumspectio, ascensio, revelatio, emissio, inspiratio. […]

The sixth seven are the seven kinds of contemplation that follow, in which the soul rests and dwells in delightf. There are seven kinds of contemplation: meditation, soliloquy, survey [or scrutiny], ascension, revelation, release, and inspiration. […]

Quarta species. Ascensio.

Ascensio est ad immortalia in excelsis animi digressio; unde Propheta: “Beatus vir, cujus est auxilium abs te ascensiones in corde suo disposuit” [cf. Vulgate Psa 83:6, beatus homo cuius fortitudo est in te semitae in corde eius]. Tres sunt ascensiones in corde suo dispositae.

The ascent to immortality is the highest going of the soul; whence the Prophet: Blessed is the man whose strength is in You, whose heart is set on pilgrimage. [Psa 84:5; NKJV] There are three ascents arranged in his heart.

Tres sunt ascensiones Christi: tres quoque nostri. Prius enim Christus ascendit in montem, deinde in crucem, tandem ad patrem.

There are three ascents of Christ: ours are also three. For first Christ ascended the mountain, then the cross, and finally to the Father.

In monte docuit discipulos; in cruce redemit captivos; in coelo glorificavit electos.
In monte doctrinam protulit humilitatis; in cruce formam expressit caritatis; in coelo coronam præbuit felicitatis.
In primo præbuit lumen scientiæ; in secundo culmen justitiæ; in tertio numen gloriæ.

He taught the disciples on the mountain; He redeemed the captives on the cross; He glorified the elect in heaven.
On the mountain he brought forth the doctrine of humility; on the cross he expressed the form of charity; He gave a crown of happiness in heaven.
In the first place He provided the light of knowledge; in the second summit of justice; in the third divine glory.

Tres sunt nostri ascensiones; prima in actu; secunda in affectu; tertia in intellectu.

Three are our ascents: first in action; second in affect; third in understanding.

[JU: So in addition to the traditional distinction between the affective and intellective divisions of the human soul, the author introduces a third aspect of our nature, action or activity.  Ascent occurs on all three.]

Ascensio vero actualiter triplex; prima in confessione culparum; secundain largitione eleemosynarum; tertia in contemptu divitiarum, prima in operibus poenitentiæ; secunda in operibus misericordiæ; tertia in operibus consummatæ justitiae; prima meretur veniam; secunda gratiam; tertia gloriam.

Ascension in action is threefold: first in confession of faults; second, giving of alms; third in contempt of riches: the first in works of penitence, the second in works of mercy, the third in works of consummate righteousness; the first merits forgiveness, the second grace, the third glory.

[JU: The author is weaving together in a plausible way Hermetic and Platonic themes of divinisation with traditional Christian virtues of self-examination, compunction, humility, and charity.]

Ascensio affectualis triplex: prima est ad perfectam humilitatem; secunda ad consummatam caritatem; tertia ad contemplationis puritatem.

Affective ascent is threefold: first to perfect humility; second to consummate charity; third to purity of contemplation.

Ascensio vero intellectuali illuminat et imperat; actus illuminatur et obtemperat; affectus illuminat, et illuminatur, et intellectui obtemperat et actui imperat.

Intellectual ascent illuminates and commands; action is enlightened and obeyed; affect enlightens and is enlightened, and obeys the understanding and commands action.

[JU: This paragraph seems to dense for Google to reliably translate.  The main idea is that there is dynamic interplay between the ascents of action, affect and understanding: mutual illumination and directing.]

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Bibliography

Baron, Roger (ed.). De contemplatione et ejus speciebus (La Contemplation et Ses Espèces). Desclée, 1955.

Giles, J. A. (ed.). De septem septenis. In: Joannis Saresberiensis postea episcopi camotensis opera omnia, vol. V: Opuscula.  Oxford, 1848; 209−238. Reprinted in Jacques-Paul Migne, Patrologia Latina, vol. 199, cols. 945−965. Paris, 1855. [Latin text] [Latin text]

Hugh of St. Victor. De quinque septenis. Jacques-Paul Migne, Patrologia Latina, vol. 175, cols. 405B−414A. Paris, 1854.

Németh, Csaba. Fabricating philosophical authority in the Twelfth Century: The Liber Egerimion and the De septem septenis. Authorities in the Middle Ages. De Gruyter, 2013; 69−87.

Manuscripts

Cambridge Corpus Christi College MS 459 fol. 99r-107v.

London British Library Harley MS 3969 fol. 206v−215v.

first draft: 19 Nov 2022; please excuse typos

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The Seven Vices and Fifty Subvices of Medieval Christianity

Tree of Vices” from Speculum Virginum, Walters Art Museum Ms. W.72, fol. 25v

AS  a previous post on the Seven Virtues and Fifty Subvirtues of Medieval Christianity is one of the most oft-visited here, it seems fitting to supply a sequel on vices and subvices.  Joint diagrams of virtues and vices are found in many medieval manuscripts.  The closest we have to a text source is De fructus carnis et spirits, a work of the 11th century, today tentatively attributed to Conrad of Hirsau  (c. 1070 – c .1150) and previously to Hugh of St. Victor (c. 1096 –1141).

An important patristic source for the medieval diagrams is Gregory the Great’s Moralia in Job, 31.xlv.87−88. Spencer (2014, 177 f.; cf. Straw, 2005, 38 f.) lists the vices/subvices as found both in Gregory and Cassian. Medieval tree diagrams are fairly consistent concerning the vices, but variation exists in subvices (these vary in number from 48 to 52; again we’ll just say roughly 50).

Just as the virtues and subvirtues are rooted in Humility, the vices and subvirtues derive from a common parent, Pride (superbia).

We should not look at these vices and subvices as mere historical curiosities.  They have modern relevance at the level of practical cognitive psychology: each corresponds to a significant form of negative thinking common to us all,  which we need to overcome.  There is considerable interest in the application of ancient Stoic virtue ethics to modern life.  The patristic and medieval literature on the virtues and vices is an extension (and arguably more refined version) of Stoic moral psychology and ought to interest us at least as much.

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I. VAINGLORY (vana gloria)

1. Hipocrisy (hypocrisis)
2. Disobedience (inobedientia)
3. Boasting (lactantia)
4. Presumption (praesumptionis)
5. Arrogance (arrogantia)
6. Talkativeness (loquacitas)
7. Obstinacy (pertinacia)

II. ENVY (invidia)

1. Hatred (odium)
2. Envying others’ good fortune (afflictio in prosperis)
3. Exulting in others’ adversity (exsultatio in adversis)
4. Malice (malitia)
5. Detraction (detractio)
6. Bitterness (amaritudo)
7. ‘Whispering’ (susurratio); “by which, either by a hiss of hateful flattery or contempt, one is roused to the hatred of the other.”

II. ANGER (ira)

1. Accusation (clamor)
2. Blasphemy (blasphemia)
3. Insult (contumelia)
4. Mourning or dwelling on an injury by another (luctus)
5. Reckless outburst (temeritas)
6. Fury (furor)
7. Indignation (indignatio)

IV. SADNESS (tristitia)

1. Despair (desperatio)
2. Rancor (rancor)
3. Mental torpor (torpor)
4. Fear and anxiety (timor; menti fluctuans angustia)
5. Acidie (acidia)
6. Complaint (querela)
7. Pessimism (pusillanimitas)

V. AVARICE (avaritia)

1. Love of money (philargyria)
2. Perjury (perjurium)
3. Violence (violentia)
4. Usury (usura)
5. Fraud (fraus)
6. Robbery (rapina)
7. Deceit (fallacia)

VI. GLUTTONY (Ventris ingluvies)

1. Drunkenness (ebrietas)
2. Overeating (crapula)
3. Dulness of sense and in understanding (mentis hebetatio)
4. Laziness (languor)
5. Delicacy of appetite; desire for delicious foods beyond one natural needs (delicatio)
6. Disregard of health (oblivio)

VII. LUST (Luxuria)

1. Voluptuous pleasure (voluptas)
2. Lewdness (lascivia)
3. Languid rejection of virtue (ignavia)
4. Rash, consuming desire (petulantia)
5. Weakness of spirit or body given over to indulgence (titubatio)
6. Enticement (blanditiae)
7. Excessive sensual delight (deliciae)

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Bibliography

Bliss, James and anonymous (trs.). St. Gregory the Great: Morals on the Book of Job. Three vols. Library of the Fathers. Oxford, 1844−1850. Book 31.

Bloomfield, Morton. The Seven Deadly Sins: An Introduction to the History of a Religious Concept, with Special Reference to Medieval English Literature. East Lansing, 1952; repr. 1967.

Goggin, Cheryl Gohdes. Copying manuscript illuminations: The Trees of Vices and Virtues. Visual Resources, 2004, 20:2-3, 179−198. https://doi.org/10.1080/0197376042000207552

Hugo de S. Victore (attr.). De fructibus carnis et spiritus. J. P. Migne. Patrologia Latina, Paris, 1854; cols. 997−1010 (rough diagrams of the Tree of Vices and Tree of Virtues appear at the end of the work).  Latin text is online: http://mlat.uzh.ch/?c=2&w=HuDeSVi.DeFrCaE

Katzenellenbogen, Adolf. Allegories of the Virtues and Vices in Medieval Art from Christian Times to the Thirteenth Century. Alan J. P. Crick (tr.). London: Warburg Institute, 1939.

Kerns, Brian (tr.). Gregory the Great: Moral Reflections on the Book of Job. Six vols. Liturgical Press, 2014−2022. (English translation of Latin critical edition.)

Mews, Constant J. (ed.). Listen, Daughter: The “Speculum virginum” and the Formation of Religious Women in the Middle Ages. The New Middle Ages Series. Palgrave, 2001.

Newhauser, Richard G. In the Garden of Evil: The Vices and Culture in the Middle Ages. Toronto, 2005.

Robertson, D. W. The Doctrine of Charity in Mediaeval Literary Gardens: A Topical Approach through Symbolism and Allegory. Speculum, vol. 26, no. 1, 1951, pp. 24–49. Reprinted in: Robertson, Durant Waite. Essays in Medieval Culture. Princeton University Press, 1980 (repr. 2014); pp. 21−50.

Powell, Morgan. Gender, Reading, and Truth in the Twelfth Century: The Woman in the Mirror. Arc Humanities Press, 2020.

Straw, Carole E. Gregory and Cassian on the cardinal vices. In: Richard G. Newhauser (ed.), In the Garden of Evil: The Vices and Culture in the Middle Ages, Toronto, 2005, pp. 35−58.

Tucker, Shawn R. The Virtues and Vices in the Arts: A Sourcebook. Wipf and Stock Publishers, 2015.

Young, Spencer E. Scholarly Community at the Early University of Paris: Theologians, Education and Society, 1215–1248. Cambridge University Press, 2014; Ch. 5, Parisian theologians and the seven deadly sins. (pp. 168−207).

Watson, Arthur. The Speculum Virginum with special reference to the Tree of Jesse. Speculum, vol. 3, no. 4, 1928, pp. 445–69.

Wenzel, Siegfried. The Seven Deadly Sins. Speculum 43, 1968, 1−22.

Art: “Tree of Vices” from Speculum Virginum, Walters Art Museum Ms. W.72, fol. 25v; early 13th century manuscript from the Cistercian abbey of Himmerode, Germany.

Cicero: Decorum as a Transcendent Virtue

Cicero presenting De officiis to his son (illustration, 1508 edition).

I have said, Ye are gods. (Psalms 82:6)

IN A PREVIOUS post we observed that (1) in several works Cicero presents evidence for the divinity and grandeur of the human being (especially our soul), and (2) while his evidence is basically the same in each work, he uses it for different purposes. In De officiis (On Moral Duties), Book 1, XXVII.93 to XXXIII.133, Cicero’s exhorts us to behave with the dignity that befits our divine nature and station — as participating in both the Eternal and temporal realms, a mediator of  heaven and earth and especially beloved of God. He does this in the context of discussing the virtue of decorum:

93.
We have next to discuss the one remaining division of moral rectitude. That is the one in which we find considerateness and self-control, which give, as it were, a sort of polish to life; it embraces also temperance, complete subjection of all the passions, and moderation in all things. Under this head is further included what, in Latin, may be called decorum (propriety); for in Greek it is called πρέπον. Such is its essential nature, that it is inseparable from moral goodness;

Decorum, Cicero admits, is not easily defined, but is nonetheless familiar from experience, something very fundamental, and no less important than the four cardinal virtues:

94.
for what is proper is morally right, and what is morally right is proper. The nature of the difference between morality and propriety can be more easily felt than expressed. For whatever propriety may be, it is manifested only when there is pre-existing moral rectitude. And so, not only in this division of moral rectitude which we have now to discuss but also in the three preceding divisions, it is clearly brought out what propriety is. For to employ reason and speech rationally, to do with careful consideration whatever one does, and in everything to discern the truth and to uphold it — that is proper. … And all things just are proper; all things unjust, like all things immoral, are improper.

The relation of propriety to fortitude is similar. What is done in a manly and courageous spirit seems becoming to a man and proper; what is done in a contrary fashion is at once immoral and improper.

95.
This propriety, therefore, of which I am speaking belongs to each division of moral rectitude; and its relation to the cardinal virtues is so close, that it is perfectly self-evident and does not require any abstruse process of reasoning to see it. For there is a certain element of propriety perceptible in every act of moral rectitude; and this can be separated from virtue theoretically better than it can be practically. As comeliness and beauty of person are inseparable from the notion of health, so this propriety of which we are speaking, while in fact completely blended with virtue, is mentally and theoretically distinguishable from it.

He distinguishes between a general and what he calls subordinate forms of propriety. The exact meaning of this distinction is somewhat unclear, but his definition of the general form is noteworthy:

96.
The classification of propriety, moreover, is twofold: (1) we assume a general sort of propriety, which is found in moral goodness as a whole; then (2) there is another propriety, subordinate to this, which belongs to the several divisions of moral goodness. The former is usually defined somewhat as follows: “Propriety is that which harmonizes with man’s superiority in those respects in which his nature differs from that of the rest of the animal creation.” And they so define the special type of propriety which is subordinate to the general notion, that they represent it to be that propriety which harmonizes with nature, in the sense that it manifestly embraces temperance and self-control, together with a certain deportment. [italics added]

Decorum, then, is not merely to act and think in harmony with nature.  It is specifically related to our higher abilities — those which no other animal has, and which to relate to our special role in the plan of Creation. As he goes on to explain,

97.
to us Nature herself has assigned a character of surpassing excellence, far superior to that of all other living creatures, and in accordance with that we shall have to decide what propriety requires.

Among these unique higher human abilities are our reason, our religious nature, our refined senses, our power of discovery and invention, and our dominion over the earth and its creatures. Cicero’s most important discussion of the unique excellences of human nature is in De natural deorum 2, LIII.133 – LXVI.167.

Among other things, decorum implies propriety, grace and dignity of our outward actions and appearance:

101.
Again, every action ought to be free from undue haste or carelessness; neither ought we to do anything for which we cannot assign a reasonable motive; for in these words we have practically a definition of duty.

Later, in par. 128 he says, “So, in standing or walking, in sitting or reclining, in our expression, our eyes, or the movements of our hands, let us preserve what we have called ‘propriety.'”  As he explains in De legibus, this also applies to our countenance:

Nature … has so formed [Man’s] features as to portray therein the character that lies hidden deep within him, for not only do the eyes declare with exceeding clearness the innermost feelings of our hearts, but also the countenance [vultus], as we Romans call it, which can be found in no living thing save man, reveals the character.
Source: De legibus 1.IX.27; tr. Keyes.

Cicero doesn’t mean actions that are artificial or stilted, but rather to behave with natural poise, nobility and grace.

Decorum also applies to our inner life:

100.
For it is only when they agree with Nature’s laws that we should give our approval to the movements not only of the body, but still more of the spirit.

Cicero provides two practical tools for developing the habit of decorum in action and thought: to remind ourselves (1) that we have a divine nature, and (2) how much below our dignity it is to behave as animals; we must not dwell at the level of sensual pleasure, but rather seek pleasure in higher things and subordinate our sensual appetites to Reason and virtue:

105.
But it is essential to every inquiry about duty that we keep before our eyes how far superior man is by nature to cattle and other beasts:

106.
From this we see that sensual pleasure is quite unworthy of the dignity of man and that we ought to despise it and cast it from us; but if some one should be found who sets some value upon sensual gratification, he must keep strictly within the limits of moderate indulgence. One’s physical comforts and wants, therefore, should be ordered according to the demands of health and strength, not according to the calls of pleasure. And if we will only bear in mind the superiority and dignity of our nature, we shall realize how wrong it is to abandon ourselves to excess and to live in luxury and voluptuousness, and how right it is to live in thrift, self-denial, simplicity, and sobriety.

Ideally, he argues, we would avoid sensual pleasure altogether.  But, if not, we should always moderate it, measuring it by the criteria of health and strength.

Cicero is doing much more than explaining the social etiquette proper for a Roman statesman.  Decorum relates integrally to the Christian and Platonic notion of assimilation to God. It is an essential, but often neglected feature of the perennial philosophy. We are designed for godliness. Decorum is to behave and think harmonized with God’s will, the High Priest of creation and mediator of heaven and earth.  Through the divine human — the crown of creation — Nature achieves its telos.

Importantly, decorum at the level of behavior is something bodily: when we behave as incarnate gods, God enters material creation in a new and different way.

Decorum in action also inspires others to a life of virtue. As Seneca wrote:

3. 
If ever you have come upon a grove that is full of ancient trees which have grown to an unusual height, shutting out a view of the sky by a veil of pleached and intertwining branches, then the loftiness of the forest, the seclusion of the spot, and your marvel at the thick unbroken shade in the midst of the open spaces, will prove to you the presence of deity. Or if a cave, made by the deep crumbling of the rocks, holds up a mountain on its arch, a place not built with hands but hollowed out into such spaciousness by natural causes, your soul will be deeply moved by a certain intimation of the existence of God. We worship the sources of mighty rivers; we erect altars at places where great streams burst suddenly from hidden sources; we adore springs of hot water as divine, and consecrate certain pools because of their dark waters or their immeasurable depth.

4. 
If you see a man who is unterrified in the midst of dangers, untouched by desires, happy in adversity, peaceful amid the storm, who looks down upon men from a higher plane, and views the gods on a footing of equality, will not a feeling of reverence for him steal over you? Will you not say: “This quality is too great and too lofty to be regarded as resembling this petty body in which it dwells? A divine power has descended upon that man.”

5.
When a soul rises superior to other souls, when it is under control, when it passes through every experience as if it were of small account, when it smiles at our fears and at our prayers, it is stirred by a force from heaven. A thing like this cannot stand upright unless it be propped by the divine. Therefore, a greater part of it abides in that place from whence it came down to earth. Just as the rays of the sun do indeed touch the earth, but still abide at the source from which they are sent; even so the great and hallowed soul, which has come down in order that we may have a nearer knowledge of divinity, does indeed associate with us, but still cleaves to its origin; on that source it depends, thither it turns its gaze and strives to go, and it concerns itself with our doings only as a being superior to ourselves.
Source: Seneca, Letter XLI to Lucilius, On the God within Us (tr. Gummere)

Seneca’s comments highlight an important social dimension of acting with decorum and dignity: not only do we benefit ourselves, but others do as well. Moral virtue is more beautiful than anything earthly. When others see sage-like decorum in another, they admire and delight in it, the transcendent becomes more salient in their mind, and they are encouraged in their own pursuit of virtue.

We do well here also to recall the words of Seneca’s contemporary, St. Paul: whatsoever things are true, whatsoever things are honest, whatsoever things are just, whatsoever things are pure, whatsoever things are lovely, whatsoever things are of good report; if there be any virtue, and if there be any praise, think on these things (Phil 4:8) and edify one another (1 Thess 5:11). We are to not only to edify ourselves, but others as well. The two duties are interpenetrating: by edifying ourselves we edify others, and by edifying others we edify ourselves.

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Bibliography

Griffin, M. T. (ed.); Atkins, E. M. (tr.). Cicero, On Duties. Cambridge University Press, 1991.

Gummere, Richard Mott. Seneca: Moral letters to Lucilius (Epistulae morales ad Lucilium). 3 vols. Loeb Classical Library. 1917−1925; vol. 1. Letter XLI. On the God within Us.

Keyes, Clinton Walker (tr.). Cicero: De re Publica (On the Republic), De Legibus (On the Laws). Loeb Classical Library 213. New York: Putnam, 1928.

Miller, Walter (tr.). Cicero: De officiis. Loeb Classical Library. Macmillan, 1913.

First draft 27 Oct 2022

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Gionozzo Manetti − On the Dignity and Excellence of the Human Being

Manetti, De dignitate et excellentia, British Library ms Harley 2593, f. 1

AROUND 1194, Pope Innocent III penned a treatise with the rather depressing title, On the Misery of the Human Condition (De miseria condicionis humane). He promised to write a companion work, On the Worth and Excellence of Human Life, but never did so. In the 14th century the great humanist Petrarch decided to supply the missing enomium of Man himself. This is his work, Remedies for Fortunes (De remediis utriusque fortunae), and in particular the section titled, “Of sadness and misery,” a dialogue between Sorrow and Reason.

Several centuries later, an Italian Benedictine monk, Antionio da Barga, not knowing of Petrarch’s piece, also decided a reply to Innocent III was needed. Lacking time to do it himself, he made a detailed outline and asked a friend, Bartolomeo Facio, to write a complete book around it — which Facio did.

Somehow a mutual colleague of theirs — the Florentine statesman and scholar Gionozzo Manetti (1396 – 1459) — received of the outline and decided to write his own version.  This, much longer and more skillfully executed than Facio’s work, is On the Dignity and Excellence of the Human Being (De dignitate et excellentia hominis libri IV; 1452).

While not not a literary masterpiece, it is ably written and comprehensive — drawing primarily on Cicero, Lactantius, Augustine and Aristotle. (Copenhaver: “His originality lay rather in his capacity to make a coherent synthesis of the Christian image of man and the new Renaissance experience and admiration of man as a doer and creator.”) It’s comprised four books:  I. deals with the human body; II with the human soul; III with man’s nature as a union of body and soul; and IV a rebuttal of opposing arguments.

To the traditional Ciceronian themes of human excellence, Manetti adds several important Christian elements, including:

a) That we have guardian angels;

b) Christ’s incarnation — God becoming man — reveals the great dignity of the human body;

c) That God deemed us worthy to sacrifice is Son for our salvation; and

d) The promise of resurrected human life.

The following paragraphs from the end of Book IV — addressed to all future readers — are excellent and well worth reading.

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71.
So now let me finally bring my account to an end and at last give this work of mine a conclusion, having started in the three preceding books with a full and satisfactory explanation of the worth of man’s body and how admirable it is, next how exalted the loftiness of his soul and then besides how splendid the excellence of the human composed of those two parts. Last of all, since I have recorded in this fourth book all the points that resolve and refute the main arguments thought to oppose and contradict my own stated views what remains is briefly to urge those present, and those to come: toward a careful and exact observance of God’s commandments, our only way to rise to that heavenly and eternal home.

72.
Therefore, Fairest Prince, while coming back after so long and returning to you, I humbly and meekly beg Your Majesty, and any others who may come upon these writings of mine, to choose to follow every single one of God’s commandments and fulfill them all. Whoever does his utmost to act on the commandments and put them into practice will certainly get temporal privileges here as well as rewards that last, both for this life and the next, with the undoubted result that all who keep heaven’s rules carefully seem always — right from the moment of birth — to be those who have been fortunate, are happy and will be blessed for eternity.

73.
This is why I beg and beseech all readers of this work, such as it is, to set other things aside and pay close attention to this short and friendly little plea of mine — that they may take action to do as I shall try to persuade them in the few words that follow.

My fellow humans — no, you brave men, rather, you kings, princes and generals — you have been created with such immense value and appointed to a rank so high that no doubt at all remains, given what I have written, about this: all there is in this universe, whether on land or sea or in the waters, whether in the air or the aether or the heavens, has been made subject to your command and put under your control: attend to virtue, then. With vices pressed upon you in abundance, cherish virtue with all your strength of mind and body. Love virtue and preserve it, I beg you, grasp, seize and embrace it so that by putting virtue in action, constantly and ceaselessly, you may not only be seen as fortunate and happy but also become almost like the immortal God.

In fact, your roles of knowing and acting are recognized as shared with Almighty God. Then, if by acquiring and practicing virtue you receive the blessing of serene immortality, your appearance, when you return home, will surely be like that of the eternal Prince. For with constant rejoicing and endless, jubilant song — in bliss perpetual and eternal, with pleasure unique and simple like God’s own — you will always rejoice in understanding, acting and contemplation, which properly are considered God’s roles alone. [cf. Aristotle, Nicomachean Ethics 1177a11 et seq.]

Source: Manetti, On the Dignity and Excellence of the Human Being 4.71−73; tr. Copenhaven pp. 251ff.

Manetti exhorts readers to “a careful and exact observance of God’s commandments (divinorum mandatorum).”  We might suppose here he doesn’t mean by this a legalistic forcing of ourselves to adhere to a set of fixed behavioral rules (though neither do we want to violate them), but more to live constantly attentive and responsive to God’s ongoing directions and guidances supplied to the soul,

Bibliography

Copenhaver, Brian (tr.). Giannozzo Manetti: On human worth and excellence. Harvard University Press, 2018. App. I: Antonio da Barga, On Mankind’s Worth and the Excellence of Human Life; App. II: Bartolomeo Facio, On Human Excellence and Distinction.

Trinkaus, Charles. In Our Image and Likeness: Humanity and Divinity in Italian Humanist Thought. London and Chicago, 1970. 2 volumes; vol. 1, pp. 200−270.

Trinkaus, Charles. Renaissance Idea of the Dignity of Man. In: Wiener, Philip P. (ed.), Dictionary of the History of Ideas: Studies of Selected Pivotal Ideas, 4 vols,  New York, Scribner, 1973−74 , vol. 4., 136–147.

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Beyond the Epiphany Experience

LATELY I’ve been thinking about epiphany experiences.  I’ve written many posts about the subject — here and at my other blog, Satyagraha — sometime in connection with the theories of humanistic psychologist Abraham Maslow.  Maslow placed great emphasis on transcendent experiences (or ‘peak experiences’ as he sometimes called them).  His work is important because it brings these experiences into the realm of ‘respectable,’ empirical science.  Maslow makes no metaphysical claims.  He simply observes that (1) most people have these experiences, (2) the experience of transcendence has many positive and productive psychological effects, (3) it enhances a sense of life’s meaning, and (4) it connects the experiencer with core values (including Truth, Beauty and Goodness).

So on the one hand I applaud Maslow’s efforts. Yet my praise is qualified.  In bringing transcendence into the realm of academic psychology, it was necessary for him to ignore the essential religious aspect of these experiences.  Secular transcendence is a half-step to genuine religious mysticism.  The half-step is good as long as one continues to the next; but it’s a problem if one is content to remain at the secular level.

A secular epiphany proceeds as follows:

1. The experience itself (say, feeling of awe at a glorious sunset)

2. A feeling of calmness, completeness

3. A feeling of gratitude (but to whom?)

A complete, religious epiphany builds on these three:

4. Awareness of the greatness of ones soul such that one is capable of experiencing such a thing; the experience, even more than it reveals outer Nature, reveals one’s inner nature.

5. A recognition that God has made not only this experience, but your own capacity to have and appreciate the experience

6. A feeling of religious devotion; giving thanks and praise to God

Last is what I might call ‘an awareness of charitable duty.’  The purpose of the epiphany is not our enjoyment, but to remind us of who we are: an anamnesis.  When one stands in Nature during such an experience, the culmination is that one sees oneself not simply as a spectator, but a participant in the great, glorious TAO of Nature.  Your beholding the Beauty and Mystery of Nature completes Nature’s telos.  Or actually, it’s telos is completed when you, beholding the spectacle, you assume the role of priest, and on behalf of all living things praise God.

Some may object that this last point opposes the essentially passive nature of an epiphany experience.  True, the experience comes not so much by ones own doing, but by not doing.  But this re-emergence as agent of divine charity transcends the traditional distinction between passive and active: one acts in the world by being perfectly aligned with Nature, God’s plan and God’s will.  One does not ‘do’: one enters the dance.

Thus added to the experience of Nature is an ‘inward turn,’ then an ascent, and finally a descent back into the natural world infused with a sense of divine charity.  This is a basically Augustinian perspective on mental ascent, as, for example, most fully developed in St. Bonaventure and Richard of St. Victor.

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Cicero – Divine Grandeur of the Human Soul

PICO della Mirandola’s Oration on the Dignity of Man, an encomium on the greatness of the human being, is well known, and is often taken as a definitive statement of Renaissance humanism.  Less familiar to many are the classical roots of the Oration and Renaissance humanism in general.  One source is Plato, in whose writings several key ideas appear:  (1) the Intellect (Nous) as a higher organ of cognition; (2) the immortality of the human soul; (3) the beauty and exalted nature of virtue; and (4) likeness or assimilation to God (homoiosis theoi) as a prime ethical goal, among others.  But Cicero’s works are a second locus classicus.  Cicero returns several times to the theme of the dignity and greatness of human beings, and especially their souls.  The more important discussions are found in De legibus (Laws), Tusculan Disputations 1, De natural deorum (On the Nature of the Gods), and De officiis (On Moral Duties).

Each time Cicero works from the same basic list of reasons that point to the exalted status of human beings. (His main source may have been a lost work by the Stoic, Posidonius).  The list includes:

a) The human mind is divine, especially Reason, a capacity only gods and human beings have.

b) The unlimited nature of memory.  For Cicero, this means not so much a vast memory for facts, but that (per Plato) it appears as though (1) we have innate knowledge of principles and relations (mathematics, logic, forms), and (2) these seem unlimited in number.

c) Our capacity for extremely subtle judgments, including moral and aesthetic ones.

d) Virtue and moral excellence — again these are concerns we share with gods.

e) A unlimited capacity for invention and discovery.

f) Faculties of divination (prophecy, interpretation of oracles, etc.)

g) Finely attuned senses; for example, capable of subtle distinctions of hues,  musical pitch and tones.

h) Marvelous adaptations of the human body to support our higher nature

i) The capacity for knowledge of God (e.g., from created things and the orderliness of Creation)

j) A bounteous earth, and dominion over animals and plants, which serve man’s needs.

k) Man’s soul is immortal (a topic to which Cicero devotes all of Tusculan Disputations 1)

The religious foundation of Cicero’s arguments here is insufficiently appreciated by modern commentators. He constantly returns to the idea that these exalted attributes are gifts of the gods and also demonstrate our kinship with them.

While his lists and discussions are similar across works, his purposes vary.  His discussions of the topic and the broader context of each are summarized below:

De legibus (1.7.22−9.27)
Our divine attributes relate to the origin and nature of civil laws

Tusculan Disputations 1.24−28
How they derive from or are evidence for the immortality of the human soul

De natura deorum 2.54−66
Evidence that the gods exist and they are concerned with us

De officiis 1. 27, 30, 35−37
Moral excellence

These discussions are not of mere historical interest, but are helpful at a practical level.  First (as the early Renaissance writer Petrarch noted in On Sadness and its Remedies), to remind ourselves of the grandeur of the human soul is an antidote for sadness and negative thinking.  Second, they can form the basis of a contemplative or spiritual exercise — an ascent of the mind from considering natural phenomena, to attaining a religious state of consciousness, such as we see developed later by Richard of St. Victor and St. Bonaventure.

As Emerson said, “We are gods in ruins.”  We are divine beings who continually get caught up in the mundane.  Reminding ourselves of our exalted nature may stimulate an anamnesis, and an actual re-experiencing of ones divinity nature and immeasurable dignity.  Then we will have little patience for letting our minds fall into negative and worldly thinking.  Rather our concern will be to glorify God by having exalted thoughts.

Cicero understands the word dignity in a way somewhat different than the common modern usage.  For us today, ‘human dignity’ connotes certain legal rights and respect before the law to which all human beings are entitled.  Cicero goes beyond this, however, in seeing dignity as something it is our duty to preserve and cultivate.  The great dignity of human beings is, then, both a gift and a responsibility.

Here is Cicero’s discussion on human dignity in his early work, De legibus. This lacks some of the scope, eloquence and polish Cicero devotes to the topic in his later works, Tusculan Disputations 1 and De natural deorum, but it serves as a good starting point.

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Cicero, De legibus 1.7.22−1.9.27

VII. [22]
Marcus. I will not make the argument long. Your admission leads us to this that animal which we call man, endowed with foresight and quick intelligence, complex, keen, possessing memory, full of reason and prudence, has been given a certain distinguished status by the supreme God who created him; for he is the only one among so many different kinds and varieties of living beings who has a share in reason and thought, while all the lest are deprived of it. But what is more divine, I will not say in man only, but in all heaven and earth, than reason? And reason, when it is full grown and perfected, is rightly called wisdom.

[23]
Therefore, since there is nothing better than reason, and since it exists both in man and God, the first common possession of man and God is reason. But those who have reason in common must also have right reason in common. And since right reason is Law, we must believe that men have Law also in common with the gods. Further, those who share Law must also share Justice, and those who share these are to be regarded as members of the same commonwealth. If indeed they obey the same authorities and powers, this is true in a far greater degree, but as a matter of fact they do obey this celestial system, the divine mind, and the God of transcendent power. Hence we must now conceive of this whole universe as one commonwealth of which both gods and men are members.

And just as in States distinctions in legal status are made on account of the blood relationships of families, according to a system which I shall take up in its proper place, so in the universe the same thing holds true, but on a scale much vaster and more splendid, so that men are grouped with Gods on the basis of blood relationship and descent.

VIII. [24]
For when the nature of man is examined, the theory is usually advanced (and in all probability it is correct) that through constant changes and revolutions in the heavens, a time came which was suitable for sowing the seed of the human race. And when this seed was scattered and sown over the earth, it was granted the divine gift of the soul. For while the other elements of which man consists were derived from what is mortal, and are therefore fragile and perishable, the soul was generated in us by God. Hence we are justified in saying that there is a blood relationship between ourselves and the celestial beings; or we may call it a common ancestry or origin. Therefore among all the varieties of living beings, there is no creature except man which has any knowledge of God, and among men themselves there is no race either so highly civilized or so savage as not to know that it must believe in a god, even if it does not know in what sort of god it ought to believe.

[25]
Thus it is clear that man recognizes God because, in a way, he remembers and recognizes the source from which he sprang.

Moreover, virtue exists in man and God alike, but in no other creature besides; virtue, however, is nothing else than Nature perfected and developed to its highest point, therefore there is a likeness between man and God. As this is true, what relationship could be closer or clearer than this one? For this reason, Nature has lavishly yielded such a wealth of things adapted to man’s convenience and use that what she produces seems intended as a gift to us, and not brought forth by chance; and this is true, not only of what the fertile earth bountifully bestows in the form of grain and fruit, but also of the animals; for it is clear that some of them have been created to be man’s slaves, some to supply him with their products, and others to serve as his food.

[26]
Moreover innumerable arts have been discovered through the teachings of Nature; for it is by a skilful imitation of her that reason has acquired the necessities of life.

Nature has likewise not only equipped man himself with nimbleness of thought, but has also given him the senses, to be, as it were, his attendants and messengers; she has laid bare the obscure and none too [obvious] meanings of a great many things, to serve as the foundations of knowledge, as we may call them; and she has granted us a bodily form which is convenient and well suited to the human mind. For while she has bent the other creatures down toward their food, she has made man alone erect, and has challenged him to look up toward heaven, as being, so to speak, akin to him, and his first home.

[27]
In addition, she has so formed his features as to portray therein the character that lies hidden deep within him, for not only do the eyes declare with exceeding clearness the innermost feelings of our hearts, but also the countenance, as we Romans call it, which can be found in no living thing save man, reveals the character. (The Greeks are familiar with the meaning which this word “countenance” conveys, though they have no name for it.)

I will pass over the special faculties and aptitudes of the other parts of the body, such as the varying tones of the voice and the power of speech, which is the most effective promoter of human intercourse, for all these things are not in keeping with our present discussion or the time at our disposal; and besides, this topic has been adequately treated, as it seems to me, by Scipio in the books which you have read. But, whereas God has begotten and equipped man, desiring him to be the chief of all created things, it should now be evident, without going into all the details, that Nature, alone and unaided, goes a step farther; for, with no guide to point the way, she starts with those things whose character she has learned through the rudimentary beginnings of intelligence, and, alone and unaided, strengthens and perfects the faculty of reason.

Source: Keyes, Clinton Walker (tr.). Cicero: De re Publica (On the Republic), De Legibus (On the Laws). Loeb Classical Library 213. New York: Putnam, 1928; pp. 323−329.

As noted, here Cicero is setting the stage for a discussion on the origin of civil laws.  However the topic is so lofty and valuable that his interlocutor, Atticus, is prompted to exclaim:

You discourse so eloquently that I not only have no desire to hasten on to the consideration of the civil law, concerning which I was expecting you to speak, but I should have no objection to your spending even the entire day on your present topic, for the matters which you have taken up, no doubt, merely as preparatory to another subject, are of greater import than the subject itself to which they form an introduction. (Source: ibid.)

A nice way of summing up is to quote the North African Church Father, Lactantius (c. 250 – c. 325), sometimes called the ‘Latin Cicero.’  In a polemic against pagan philosophers titled, On the Wrath of God, he wrote:

Why God Made Man

It follows that I show for what purpose God made man himself. As He contrived the world for the sake of man, so He formed man himself on His own account, as it were a priest of a divine temple, a spectator of His works and of heavenly objects. For he is the only being who, since he is intelligent and capable of reason, is able to understand God, to admire His works, and perceive His energy and power; for on this account he is furnished with judgment, intelligence, and prudence. On this account he alone, beyond the other living creatures, has been made with an upright body and attitude, so that he seems to have been raised up for the contemplation of his Parent. On this account he alone has received language, and a tongue the interpreter of his thought, that he may be able to declare the majesty of his Lord. Lastly, for this cause all things were placed under his control, that he himself might be under the control of God, their Maker and Creator. If God, therefore, designed man to be a worshipper of Himself, and on this account gave him so much honour, that he might rule over all things; it is plainly most just that he should worship Him who bestowed upon him such great gifts, and love man, who is united with us in the participation of the divine justice. For it is not right that a worshipper of God should he injured by a worshipper of God. From which it is understood that man was made for the sake of religion and justice. And of this matter Marcus Tullius is a witness in his books respecting the Laws, since he thus speaks: But of all things concerning which learned men dispute, nothing is of greater consequence than that it should be altogether understood that we are born to justice. And if this is most true, it follows that God will have all men to be just, that is, to have God and man as objects of their affection; to honour God in truth as a Father, and to love man as a brother: for in these two things the whole of justice is comprised. But he who either fails to acknowledge God or acts injuriously to man, lives unjustly and contrary to his nature, and in this manner disturbs the divine institution and law.
Source: Lactantius, On the Wrath of God (De ira Dei) 14

Bibliography

de Plinval, Georges. M. Tullius Cicero: De Legibus. Paris. Belles Lettres, 1959. (Online Latin text).

Fletcher, William (tr.). Lactantius: On the Anger of God. In: Eds. Alexander Roberts, James Donaldson and A. Cleveland Coxe, Ante-Nicene Fathers, Vol. 7, Buffalo, NY: Christian Literature Publishing Co., 1886; online version by Kevin Knight (ed.).

Keyes, Clinton Walker (tr.). Cicero: De re Publica (On the Republic), De Legibus (On the Laws). Loeb Classical Library 213. New York: Putnam, 1928.

Zetzel, James E. G. Cicero: On the Commonwealth and On the Laws. Cambridge University, 1999; translation based on: K. Ziegler (ed.), M. Tullius Cicero: De legibus, (3rd ed, rev. by W. Goerler, Heidelberg, 1979).

First draft: 17 Oct 2022

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Psalm 45. The Mystical Marriage

Monastery of St. John the Baptist, Megara

PSALM 45 (Ps. 44 LXX) is another hidden gem.  The Book of Psalms is a magnificent work — even by itself one of the greatest treatises on spiritual life we possess.  The weakening of spiritual life in the West today is proportional to the loss in fervor with which people study and pray Psalms, which in previous centuries was a mainstay of Christian spiritual life. It’s not enough to read or hear isolated verses of Psalms during masses and liturgies.  A thorough, attentive, and repeated reading of the whole work is needed. Only then may one recognize it as an organic unity with an express aim. That aim is to help effect a transformation of soul.  Psalms not only give us a conceptual framework for understanding that process of transformation, but, insofar as we pray individual psalms (or perhaps sing them) devoutly and meditate on their meanings, it becomes a means of effecting that transformation.

The subject is a marriage involving the soul. The resemblance to the Song of Songs is evident and striking. It would be interesting to know which was written earlier: does the first epitomize the second, or the second expand the first?

To begin there is one verse of introduction, a masterpiece of economy and eloquence, and immediately rivets our attention on what is to follow:

[1] My heart is inditing a good matter: I speak of the things which I have made touching the king: my tongue is the pen of a ready writer.

There is no doubt — on this virtually all commentators agree — but that this psalm does not describe any historical event, but its meaning is found in symbolism and allegorical interpretation. There are two principal figures in the psalm: the King, and the Bride.

The King

[2] Thou art fairer than the children of men: grace is poured into thy lips: therefore God hath blessed thee for ever.
[3] Gird thy sword upon thy thigh, O most mighty, with thy glory and thy majesty.
[4] And in thy majesty ride prosperously because of truth and meekness and righteousness; and thy right hand shall teach thee terrible things.
[5] Thine arrows are sharp in the heart of the king’s enemies; whereby the people fall under thee.
[6] Thy throne, O God, is for ever and ever: the sceptre of thy kingdom is a right sceptre.
[7] Thou lovest righteousness, and hatest wickedness: therefore God, thy God, hath anointed thee with the oil of gladness above thy fellows.
[8] All thy garments smell of myrrh, and aloes, and cassia, out of the ivory palaces, whereby they have made thee glad.

The King here is almost universally understood to signify Christ.  However, it’s also possible to understand the figure as symbolic of an Inner Christ within the soul.  These two interpretations are not mutually exclusive, but to supply a satisfactory discussion of the relationship of Christ to the Inner Christ (however valuable that might be) is beyond the present scope. We may observe, though, that such a parallel is implied by the important Christian doctrine of theosis (becoming like God).  Most unfortunate it is that this doctrine receives so little attention today outside the Orthodox Churches. We come to see, know and love God only to the degree that we become like Him. Our spiritual life is one of gradual coming to be like God, as we proceed from glory to glory. (2 Cor.3:18)

Of what, then, does the beauty of the King consist? We are told that He has the qualities of truth, meekness and righteousness. As we read and reflect on the psalm, we rediscover a great truth of our own soul: that we find this figure of supreme righteousness innately and irresistibly attractive. We cannot help but love deeply and intensely these divine virtues, because these also constitute the deepest nature of our own soul. We love in others what we treasure — sometimes without realizing it — in ourselves.  Reading these verses and calling to our imagination a vision of this King, we are confronted with a great truth of our own soul: we love Righteousness and Moral Beauty — and  far more so than anything related to the material world.  This realization jolts us into a proper remembrance of our true nature.

Yet the King is not only great in moral beauty, but also awesome and sublime in a sense that is, we might say, terrifying.  The very perfection of truth and righteousness which we admire in the King makes falsehood and wickedness perfectly unacceptable to Him.  Hence He is also portrayed as taking an aggressive stance against evil. This creates a psychological paradox for us — one that, in a sense, is the same paradox inherent in that potent expression, fear of the LORD. The same pure King of Righteousness, whose beauty we find so irresistibly attractive, is also a source in like degree of great apprehensiveness.  For we do not believe we are pure and holy.  Even the best of us harbors a deep awareness of our carnal nature and selfish tendencies. As we are drawn toward the beautiful King, we recoil, as though feeling as St. Peter did when he said, Depart from me; for I am a sinful man, O Lord. (Luke 5:8)

Therefore, while Christ, loving and patient, continually beckons us forward, saying, “Fear not!  Come into your Father’s house, to the place that has been prepared for you,” we are divided.  We wish both to proceed and to draw back, lest, coming into the presence of the Father, our sinful side will be seen and incur rejection and wrath.

This is an elemental conflict which must be resolved within the psyche of the devoted reader.  The harder task, perhaps, is not so much the elimination of all sin, but to accept that God loves us completely despite our sins.  This is a matter of great import.  For insofar as guilt and shame dominates our mind, we will seek to by our own efforts to conquer sin — the polar opposite of what we need.  But if we focus our attention on God’s generosity, understanding and love, we will see that it is by grace we are saved. So far from human understanding is this great truth!

The Bride

[9] Kings’ daughters were among thy honourable women: upon thy right hand did stand the queen in gold of Ophir.
[10] Hearken, O daughter, and consider, and incline thine ear; forget also thine own people, and thy father’s house;
[11] So shall the king greatly desire thy beauty: for he is thy Lord; and worship thou him.
[12] And the daughter of Tyre shall be there with a gift; even the rich among the people shall intreat thy favour.
[13] The king’s daughter is all glorious within: her clothing is of wrought gold.
[14] She shall be brought unto the king in raiment of needlework: the virgins her companions that follow her shall be brought unto thee.
[15] With gladness and rejoicing shall they be brought: they shall enter into the king’s palace.
[16] Instead of thy fathers shall be thy children, whom thou mayest make princes in all the earth.
[17] I will make thy name to be remembered in all generations: therefore shall the people praise thee for ever and ever.

The bride here has traditionally been given three alternative meanings:  (1) the Church, (2) the soul, and (3) the Blessed Virgin Mary.  Examples of all three interpretations can be found throughout ancient and medieval commentaries on the Song of Songs. The meanings overlap and are interact, so we need not worry overmuch about making an exact distinction among them. The Church, after all, is a collection of individual souls, and what applies to one, generally applies to the other. Similarly, the Blessed Virgin is frequently taken as a kind of ideal for the individual soul.  This not withstanding, our focus of attention here is on the bride as an individual soul.

Why is the soul symbolized as a female figure, as it would seem to transcend distinctions of gender. Apparently what is symbolized is not the entire soul, but that part of it that is connected with such things as feeling, sensation, emotion and desiring.  This affective soul (anima) would be the counterpart of another part of our soul, the intellective (animus).  In that case, we might possibly interpret the King as a symbol of the animus, to which the anima soul is being united in some new and fundamentally improved way.  Such an inner marriage has many archetypal counterparts in mythology (e.g., Martinus Capella’s Marriage of Philology and Mercury and Apuleius’ Marriage of Eros and Psyche), and some alchemical literature. A Jungian would see this as a representation of a conjiunctio or marriage of the conscious and unconscious psyche.

It is not correct for Christians to summarily and completely dismiss secular psychological or esoteric writers merely because they depart from orthodox Christianity. Even if they are merely half-right, we must pay attention to the half that is right.  Just as St. Augustine in On Christian Doctrine reminds us to read Scripture charitably, so as to not miss important meanings, so the principle of charity applies to reading secular works and writings from other spiritual traditions.

That said, the orthodox Christian (or, for that matter Jewish) and the Jungian view produce two complementary psychological interpretations of the marriage. The former sees the mystical marriage as an ascent of human consciousness to God.  The latter sees it as an integration of psychic functions that produce an intensification and revitalization of waking consciousness in and of this world — that is, attainment of what Abraham Maslow called  Being-experience. Elsewhere I have suggested that Plato’s philosophy, as shown particularly in his myths, can be understood as helping to attain both: mystical ascent and Being-experience. These two meanings are not mutually exclusive, and there is much in the Gospel to suggest it is as much concerned with the latter as the former. The telos of Christian ethics must be complete and integral if it is to be satisfying and compelling.

To return to the psalm, the Queen has female attendants, which may symbolize particular powers or faculties of the soul.  For example, they could mean the senses, or perhaps higher-level creative powers such as are symbolized in Greek myth by the Muses. Her garment of finest gold and its fine embroidery suggest a radiant and beautiful assortment of virtues.

The bride is told to leave her father’s land.  Many commentators plausibly suggest that this refers to the soul leaving its natural homeland of attachment to sensory and worldly goods, and fixing its affection on spiritual things.  (See excerpt from St. Ambrose below.)

In verse 11 we see that it is precisely because the soul rejects the worldly and turns to heavenly things that the King finds her beautiful.  This is a key point, and a magnificent one. It addresses and solves the aforementioned paradox.  Despite our fears and misgivings about being acceptable to God, we here are taught that we already possess, at least in potential, something that God treasures dearly.  Our soul becomes not just good, but supremely beautiful — possessing the very kind of moral beauty that the King prizes — by making the moral choice to turn from flesh to spirit.  We need not recoil from God due to an our awareness of sinfulness, for God has endowed us with a nature He finds supremely beautiful.  We must constantly redirect our attention to that fact.

Attending the wedding as a guest is another female figure, the Queen of Tyre. Tyre is a Philistine (i.e., heathen) city — so this figure may indicate some ruling power or sub-personality (for clarification of these terms see my previous post on Philonic interpretation) concerned with worldly things.  Significantly, this woman bears a gift.  What that gift is we are not told, and it is up to us to learn experientially.  It might involve the ability to enjoy sensory goods and pleasures to a far greater degree than we could before.  That is, if we are attached to the senses, we cannot really enjoy their offerings, because we are divided: we are simultaneous aware of defection, of giving our allegiance to the wrong place, which degrades the integrity of consciousness and diminishes enjoyment.  But if our allegiance remains in heaven, then we my touch the world of sense delicately, savoring it as we would the delicate scent of a rose, rather than dulling our senses with cheap perfume.

Princely offspring of the bride are also promised. Perhaps these would be intellectual activities, projects, and works initiated by the redeemed, reformed and divinized mind.

Conclusion

These are some possible interpretations.  They are only tentative, approximate and suggestive — hints, hopefully to that fuller understanding attainable only by devout reading and meditation.

As said before, there is an important performative dimension to interpreting the psalms.  Understanding comes more from praying than analyzing them.  This is true generally of biblical exegesis, and perhaps especially the Wisdom Books. There is a self-referential or circular quality:  by spiritual mindedness we understand the deeper meanings, and a main purpose of the Bible is to help us gain spiritual mindedness.  Norris puts this well:

“[Gregory of Nyssa] says not only that the Song in some fashion narrates an exemplary soul’s progress in knowledge and love of God but also that readers of the Song may themselves, through their comprehension of it, be brought along as actual participants in the same progress. The text of the Song has a kind of symbolic or sacramental character, then, in that to understand it fully is to be involved with the reality it speaks of.” (p. xlv).

Similarly, Origen, in his Commentary on the Song of Songs, interprets the words behold, thou art fair; thou hast doves’ eyes (Song 1.15) to mean that the eyes of the exegete are illumined by the Holy Spirit and enabled to see spiritual meanings of Scripture. (Origen Comm. Cant. 3.1)

Thus it is not the purpose here or in other articles to replace the effort of each reader with formulaic interpretations.

Let us, then, simply close with a passage from St. Ambrose’s commentary on the Song (found in his work On Isaac, or the Soul) I encountered in preparing this article which seems very relevant:

(8.78) Let us then take up these wings, since like flames they aim for the higher regions. Let each man divest his soul of her baser coverings and approve her when she is cleansed of the mire just as he would approve gold cleansed by fire. For the soul is cleansed just like the finest gold. Moreover the beauty of the soul, her pure virtue and attractiveness, is her truer knowledge of the things that are above, so that she sees the good on which all things depend, but which itself depends on none. There she lives and receives her understanding. For that supreme good is the fountain of life; love and longing for it are enkindled in us, and it is our desire to approach and be joined to it, for it is desirable to him who does not see it and is present to him who sees it, and therefore he disregards all other things and takes pleasure and delight in this one only. …

Let us flee therefore to our real, true fatherland [cf. Plotinus, Enneads 1.6.5]. There is our fatherland and there is our Father, by whom we have been created, where there is the city of Jerusalem, which is the mother of all men. (8.79) … Let us flee with the spirit and the eyes and feet that are within. Let us accustom our eyes to see what is bright and clear, to look upon the face of continence and of moderation, and upon all the virtues, in which there is nothing scabrous, nothing obscure or involved. And let each one look upon himself and his own conscience; let him cleanse that inner eye, so that it may contain no dirt. For what is seen ought not to be at variance with him who sees, because God has wished that we be conformed to the image of His Son. … This is the eye that looks upon the true and great beauty. Only the strong and healthy eye can see the sun; only the good soul can see the good. Therefore let him become good who wishes to see the Lord and the nature of the good.

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References

Astell, Ann W. The Song of Songs in the Middle Ages. Cornell University Press, 1990.

McHugh, Michael P. (tr.). Saint Ambrose: Isaac, or the Soul (De Isaac vel anima). In: Michael P. McHugh (ed.), Saint Ambrose: Seven Exegetical Works, Fathers of the Church 65, CUA Press, 1972 (repr. 2010); pp. 9−65.

Lawson, R. P. (tr.). Origen: The Song of Songs Commentary and Homilies. Ancient Christian Writers 26. Newman Press, 1957.

Norris Jr., Richard A. (tr.). Gregory of Nyssa: Homilies on the Song of Songs. Society of Biblical Literature, 2012.

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Thomas Chalmers: On Loving God for His Moral Goodness

Rev. Thomas Chalmers, by John Watson Gordon (National Galleries)

THOMAS CHALMERS (1780–1847) was an astronomer, preacher, economist, humanitarian and moral philosopher — part of the Scottish Enlightenment (along with such figures as David Hume and Adam Smith). An example of his sophisticated moral thought is his sermon, The Affection of Moral Esteem Towards God.  Its  main premise is that, both to be happy in this life and to prepare ourselves for Eternity, we must learn to love God not for gifts bestowed, but for the sake of God’s inherent loveliness, beauty and goodness.

Parts of the essay are bit marred (in my opinion) by Chalmers’ allusions to a God who, as part of his perfect justice and holiness, must punish sinners and enemies of religion.  This is a problem often found in Calvinist sermons — something perhaps to address in a later post.  But putting that aside, the sermon is making a valuable point.

And here let it be most readily and most abundantly conceded, that we are not perfect and complete in the whole of God’s will, till the love of moral esteem be in us, as well as the love of gratitude — till that principle, of which by nature we are utterly destitute, he made to arise in our hearts, and to have there a thorough establishment and operation — till we love God, not merely on account of His love to our persons, but on account of the glory and the residing excellence which meet the eye of the spiritual beholder upon His own character. We are not preparing for heaven — we shall be utterly incapable of sharing in the noblest of its enjoyments — we shall not feel ourselves surrounded by an element of congeniality in paradise — there will be no happiness for us, even in the neighbourhood of the throne of God, and with the moral lustre of the Godhead made visible to our eyes, if we are strangers to the emotion of loving God for Himself.

As a practical problem, then, we want and must learn to love God for His innate goodness.  And in particular, here, Chalmers is concerned with our loving God for His moral beauty.

These days it may sound odd to suggest that we have an innate tendency to love moral beauty.  This wouldn’t have seemed so strange to ancient writers like Cicero, though, who took the reality of this love as a given.  Our attraction to moral beauty is at the basis of much of Cicero’s social philosophy.

But, whereas Cicero had many illustrious human examples of moral virtue he could look to, today we seem less fortunate.  Where are the modern counterparts of Socrates, Plato, Aristotle and Demosthenes, not to mention great heroes, military leaders and statesman like Scipio Africanus!

If we had shining examples of moral heroism in modern society, then we would realize how naturally and greatly we love moral virtue.  And then it would a relatively easy step to love the perfect moral goodness of God — who is the source of these earthly instances of moral virtue.

Fortunately, even if there are few people today we can admire in this way, there is no shortage of historical exemplars we may find to inspire and enlighten us.  As an example, let me share with you one such example I find particularly inspiring.

It seems that when the great English essayist, Joseph Addison, was on his deathbed, he summoned a younger poet with whom he’d had some dealings decades earlier.  Addison told him that early in that person’s career, he (Addison) had the opportunity to assist him, but — in part from jealousy — failed to do so.  Having confessed this, he now asked the man for forgiveness.  This story to me is incredible.  Addison is on his deathbed — yet his concern is to make amends for a relatively minor wrong to another.  It wasn’t to clear his own conscience, but rather to help that other person by winning their forgiveness. On another occasion (I hope I remember the details correctly), Addison is said to have clasped his son’s hand and said, calmly and benevolently, “See here how a good Christian man faces death.”

These have always struck me as a singularly pure and beautiful moral actions.  They amaze me — and makes me love Addison for his moral virtue.  Had I never heard of them, I might never have loved moral virtue so much.  And without that love, I would not be able to love God as the source of such beauty.

Consider how God worked on my behalf.  Had Addison never been born, had he never done these things, had they not been recorded and had I (like the vast majority of even well-educated people) never heard of them, I would be less equipped to love God!  So how grateful I should be for this.  And how much more grateful that God has designed me to find joy in the moral beauty of others!

Chalmers concludes his essay with general advice we would do well to heed:

Nevertheless, the chief end of man is to glorify God, and to enjoy Him for ever. This is the real destination of every individual who is redeemed from among men. This should be the main object of all his prayers, and all his preparations. It is this which fits him for the company of heaven; and unless there be a growing taste for God in the glories of His excellency  —  for God in the beauties of His holiness  —  there is no ripening, and no perfecting, for the mansions of immortality. Though you have to combat, then, with the sluggishness of sense, and with the real aversion of nature to every spiritual exercise, you must attempt, and strenuously cultivate, the habit of communion with God.

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The Thirty Seraphic Virtues of the Middle Ages

British Library, MS Arundel 83-1, The Howard Psalter, fol. 5v, ca. 1310–20; for other versions of the figure, see here.

THE short work, On the Six Wings of the Cherubim (De sex alis cherubim) enjoyed great popularity in monastic communities during the 12th and 13th centuries. Its authorship is a little confusing. The first part seems to be an edited excerpt from Hugh of St. Victor’s (c. 1096−1141) work, On the Moral Ark of Noah (De arca Noe morali). The second part is by an anonymous author. An earlier attribution of the entire work to Alan of Lille (d. 1203) is incorrect. Marie-Therese d’Alverny (1980) suggested the Cistercian, Clement of Llanthony, as a possible source, but this is highly speculative.

The second part is what interests us. It discusses not cherubim, but the six wings of the seraphim in Isaiah 6:2. Each wing corresponds to a higher-order virtue, and each wing has five feathers, corresponding to specific virtues. The aim is to summarize in a simple form the life of Christian perfection. The work is interesting in its own right, but also in that it set the stage, so to speak, for major philosophical and devotional works by Richard of St. Victor (d. 1173; The Mystical Ark or Benjamin Major) and St. Bonaventure (1221–1274; The Soul’s Journey into God), both of whom use the image of a six winged seraphim as a vehicle of examining contemplative ascent to God.

Many medieval manuscripts of On the Six Wings include annotated diagrams of the six-winged angel. Sometimes the figure appears without the accompanying text. In the latter case, artists varied considerably in the virtues named.

A summary of the wings and feathers from On the Six Wings is supplied below. Readers are referred to the English translations of Bridget Balint and of Steven Chase.  The Latin text is found Migne PL 210:267A−280C.

CONFESSION (confessio)

Mournful avowal of one’s own weakness, ignorance, and malice

1. Truth (veritas); sincerity of confession.
2. Wholeness (integritas); a confession should be complete, not shortened or divided
3. Steadfastness (furmitas); a confession should be steadfast and firm
4. Humility (humilitas); a person making confession should have a humble mind, humble tongue, and humble aspect
5. Simplicity (simplicitas); one should reproach ones weakness, ignorance, and wickedness, defending nothing, excusing nothing, minimizing nothing.

REPARATION (satisfaccio)

1. Renunciation of sin (peccati abrenuntiatio)
2. Outpouring of tears (lacrymarum effusio)
3. Mortification of the flesh (carnis maceratio)
4. Almsgiving (eleemosynarum largiti)
5. Devotion of prayer (orationis devotio)

III. PURIFICATION OF THE FLESH (munditia or purita carnis)

1. Modesty of gaze (visus pudicitia); shuts out wantonness, lest the eye look desiring on another person
2. Chastity of hearing (auditus castimonia); do not listen to an insulting voice, words of those who curse and blaspheme, false accusations, lies or provocations
3. Decorousness of scent (olfactus modestia); seeks the aroma of goodness by works of mercy.
4. Temperance in eating (gustus temperantia)
5. Sanctity of touch (tactus sanctimonia)

PURITY OF MIND (puritas mentis)

1. Decorous and proper emotion (affectus sinceri rectitudo)
2. Delight of the mind in the Lord (mentis in Domino delectati); Delight thyself also in the LORD; and he shall give thee the desires of thine heart. (Psalm 37:4); contemplation engenders and shapes this feather.
3. Pure and well-ordered thought (munda etordinata cogitatio)
4. Holiness of will (voluntatis sanctitudo)
5. Sound and pure intention (simplex et pura intentio)

LOVE OF NEIGHBOR (dilectio proximi)

1. Avoid injury to others by word or deed (nulli nocere verbo vel opere)
2. Do good in every word and deed (omnibus prodesse, verbo et opere)
3. Liberality (verae liberalitatis fortitudine); be magnanimous and generous, not niggardly.
4. Lay aside soul for brethren (animam profratre ponere); Greater love hath no man than this, that a man lay down his life for his friends. (John 15: 13)
5. Persevere in fraternal love (in his perseverare)

LOVE OF GOD (dilectio Dei)

1. Long for and strive after nothing other than God (aliud quam Deum non concupiscit)
2. Distributes this love actively among brothers, sisters, and the world for the sake of God (propter Deum sua distribuit)
3. Reserve nothing for themselves but relinquish all things in God’s name (propter Deum nihil sibi reservat,sed omnia relinquit)
4. Deny self for God alone (propter Deum se ipsum abnegat)
5. Persevere in love of God (in his perseverat)

Readings

Anonymous. De sex alis cherubim. Attr. Alan of Lille. PL 210:265A−280C. Paris: J. P. Migne, 1855. Latin text.

Balint, Bridget (tr.). The Seraph’s Six Wings. In: Mary Carruthers and Jan M. Ziolkowski, The Medieval Craft of Memory, University of Pennsylvania, 2002, pp. 83−102.

Carruthers, Mary J. Ars oblivionalis, ars inveniendi: the cherub figure and the arts of memory. Gesta, vol. 48, no. 2, 2009, pp. 99–117.

Carruthers, Mary J. Clan Carruthers — clan crest — seraph or cherub. Clan Carruthers International website. 27 May 2020.

Chase, Steven (tr.). De sex alis cherubim (On the Six Wings of the Cherubim). In: Steven Chase (ed.), Angelic Spirituality: Medieval Perspectives on the Ways of Angels, Paulist Press, 2002; pp. 121−145.

Cousins, Ewert H. (ed.). Bonaventure: The Soul’s Journey into God. Paulist Press, 1978.

d’Alverny, M-T. Alain de Lille: problèmes d’attribution. In: eds. H. Roussel and F. Suard, Alain de Lille, Gautier de Châtillon, Jakemart Giélée et leur temps, Lille, 1980, pp. 27–46.

Zinn, Grover A. (ed.). Richard of St. Victor: The Twelve Patriarchs, The Mystical Ark and Book Three of The Trinity. Paulist Press, 1979.

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