I do not perceive any great crux in this passage: but Guest[[528]] was puzzled by the phrase numero syllabarum, which he seems to have taken as meaning that rhythm was more, not less, strict than metre in syllabic regularity. I am not sure that the words bear this interpretation: but, even if they did, we must remember that the rhythms of which Bede was speaking are very strict syllabically, and admit little or no equivalence. The more prudish hymn-writers even dislike elision, and give every syllable its value.
It is not from caprice or idleness that the somewhat minute examination thus given to the opening centuries of the Dark |The Central Middle Ages to be more rapidly passed over.| or early Middle Ages will now be exchanged for a more rapid flight over the central portion of the same division of history. There are two very good reasons for this course. The first is, that there is a very great absence, probably of all material, certainly of material that is accessible. The second is, that even if such material existed and could be got at, it would probably be of little if of any service. When conditions of rhythmical composition in Latin were once settled, that composition was pursued with delightful results,[[529]] but with half traditional, half instinctive, absence of critical inquiry as to form. It was impossible that any such inquiry should take place, in the case of the vernaculars, until they had reached a state of actual creative development, which none of them enjoyed till the twelfth century, and hardly any of them till the thirteenth. As for appreciation, other than traditional, of authors classical, patristic, or contemporary, this was rendered a rare thing by that very mental constitution of the Middle Ages which has already been often referred to, and which will be more fully discussed in the Interchapter following this book. This constitution, rich in many priceless qualities, almost entirely lacked self-detachment on the one hand, and egotistic introspection on the other. It can very seldom have occurred to any Mediæval to isolate himself from the usual estimate of writers—to separate his opinion of their formal excellence from the interest, or the use, of their contents. And even if it had so occurred to any one, he would probably not have thought that opinion worth communicating. From which things, much more than from the assumed shallowness or puerility, a thousand years saw an almost astoundingly small change in regard to the matters with which we deal. Boethius and Martianus are text-books to the early sixteenth century as to the early sixth: the satirical lampoons of the religious wars in France burlesque the form, and use the language, of the hymns of Venantius Fortunatus:[[530]] Hawes and Douglas look at literature and science with the eyes of Isidore, if not even of Cassiodorus. Whether this conservatism did not invite, disastrously, the reaction of the Renaissance-criticism, we shall have to consider later; it is certain that it limits, very notably, the material of the present book, and especially of this portion of the present chapter.[chapter.] On two very remarkable books of the earliest thirteenth century, the Labyrinthus attributed to Eberhard, and the Nova Poetria of Geoffrey de Vinsauf, we may dwell with the utmost advantage. Otherwise a few notes, chiefly on the formal Arts Poetic of the mid-Middle Age, are not only all that need, but almost all that can, be given before we turn to the great mediæval document of our subject, the De Vulgari Eloquio of Dante.
In the vernacular languages it is hardly necessary to do more than refer to the instructions for accomplishing the intricacies |Provençal and Latin treatises.| of Provençal verse found in that tongue;[[531]] the Latin rhythmics are rather more interesting. Until quite recently, access to them, save in the case of those students who unite palæographical accomplishment with leisure and means to travel all over Europe, was almost confined to two precious collections, the Reliquiæ Antiquæ of Wright and Halliwell, and the plump and pleasing volume of Polycarp Leyser, which, among its varied treasures, gives the entire Labyrinthus of Eberhard, the most important of them all. Now, however, the really admirable industry of Signor Giovanni Mari has collected, not merely the metrical part of the Labyrinthus, and the work (also rather famous) of John de Garlandia, but no less than six others, all of the thirteenth or fourteenth centuries.[[532]] It is indeed not impossible that the first of these, the De Rhythmico Dictamine, may in its original have been as old as the twelfth, to which the Labyrinthus itself used also to be assigned.
The Dictamen,[[533]] the MSS. of which are found all over Europe, is very short. It lays down firmly the principle, which was |The De Dictamine Rhythmico.| later to differentiate Romance from Teutonic, especially English, prosody, that rhythmus est consonans paritas syllabarum sub certo numere comprehensarum; it sets the limits of the line at a minimum of four syllables and a maximum of fourteen; it designs rhyme throughout as consonance; it gives examples from well-known hymns, from the poems attributed to Mapes and some not elsewhere known; and it supplies minute distinctions of kind as “transformed,” “equicomous,” “orbiculate,” “serpentine” rhythms. The tractatule is strictly limited to rhythm proper: classical metres do not appear in it. A rehandling by a certain “Master Sion” differs in its examples, and is rather more minute in its subdivisions: and there is yet a third version or pair of versions showing the authority and general influence of the treatise, while the Regulæ de Rhythmis hardly differ essentially, and lead to the same conclusion.
The Ars Rhythmica of John de Garlandia is a much more elaborate composition, which originally followed upon similar |John of Garlandia.| treatments of “prose” and “metre.” It is remarkable on the one hand for giving, not mere verses, but whole poems as examples, and on the other for varying the same theme in different rhythmical dispositions. The terms of ancient metric are also borrowed rather more freely than in the Dictamen; and great attention is paid to “rhetorical colours” of verse—homœoteleuton and the like. It is much longer than any form of the Dictamen, and has a supplement dealing with the strictly metrical forms usual in hymns. This does not exhibit the learned John Garland (he may have been an Englishman) as an expert in literary history, since he writes: “Saphicum, a Sapho muliere quadam quæ fuit inventrix hujus metri: adonicum ab Adone inventore.” But in his liberal contribution of probably original examples he includes an Oda de Archidiacono, which might have been useful in a famous investigation. In fact, probably a major part of the treatise consists of not very excellent verse.
Signor Mari, conformably to his plan, has given of the Labyrinthus[[534]] only the short section dealing actually with |The Labyrinthus.| rhythm: but the whole poem is of very great interest and importance for us—indeed of more than any work known to me between Isidore and Dante. The work, which is otherwise called De Miseriis Rectorum Scholarum, is an elaborate treatise on pædagogics. In the progress and details of this, the writer seems to forget the lugubrious estimate of his profession with which he starts, and which goes so far as to lay down that the future schoolmaster is cursed in his mother’s womb. Very sound rules are however given for guiding the moral nature and conduct of this unfortunate functionary; and then his various businesses are systematically attacked in elegiacs, not at all contemptible with due allowance. The second part deals with “themes,” grammar, and, to some extent, composition in general, though the examples, like the lecture, are in verse; the third with versification. And here we get a really precious estimate of various authors, ostensibly for their educational value, but, as in Quintilian’s case, going a good deal further. Indeed, hardly since Quintilian’s own time have we had such a critical summary. Cato, a special darling of the Middle Age, is “a path of virtue and a rule of Morals,” |Critical review of poets contained in it.| “though the brevity of his metre forbids him to polish his words.” Theodolus,[[535]] a tenth-century writer of Eclogæ, who “champions” (is this the sense of arcet?) the cause of truth against falsehood, “and in whose verse theology plays,” comes next; and then the far better known Avianus, the instructive and moral virtue of whose fables is acknowledged, though he is debited pauperiore stylo. In one of the puns so dear to the sensible Middle Ages, Æsopus metrum non sopit—i.e., writes no dull or sleepy verse—and is otherwise highly praised. Maximianus[[536]] and Pamphilus (the original of the Celestina) follow, and “Geta,”[[537]] and a punning reference[[538]] to Claudian’s Rape of Proserpine. Statius, of course, is praised, indeed twice over. The “pleasing” work of Ovid, the “satire of the Venusian,” the “not juvenile but mature” ditto of Juvenal, which “lays bare and never cloaks vice”; Persius of the lofty soul, who spares no subtlety of mind though he is a lover of brevity, come next, while to these great satirists of old, the Architrenius[[539]] of John of Hauteville is yoked, with less injustice than may seem likely to devotees of classic and scorners of mediæval literature. The inevitable eccentricity (to us) of the mediæval estimate, and probably also the perseverance of the wooden censorship of Servius, is shown by the fact that only Virgil’s “themes,” not his treatment, are noticed, except obliquely. The second notice of Statius for the Thebaid, as the first had been for the Achilleid, is less reticent, praising him as eloquii jucundus melle; and Lucan is said to sing metro lucidiore, while an Alexandreid (no doubt that of Gautier of Châtillon), though described as “shining by Lucan’s light,” is extolled as a historical poem. Claudian, again by allusion, receives praise for his praise of Stilicho, and Dares (as we expect with resignation) for his “veracity”; indeed the clerestories toward that south-north are quite as lustrous as ebony. Still Homer is placed beside him without depreciation, unless the mention of Argolicum dolum is intended as a stigma. The couplet following—
“Sidonii regis qui pingit prælia morem
Egregium calamus Sidonianus habet”—
is annotated by Leyser “Apollonius,” but there seems some difficulty in this Apollonius. Rhodius has nothing to do with Tyre or Sidon; and Apollonius of Tyre has very little to do with prælia. The poet alluded to, whoever he is, possesses a pen with a noble manner. A Salimarius or Solinarius, who sang of the crusades, may be any versifier of William of Tyre: unless, indeed, the phrase plenus amore crucis refers to one of the numerous poems on the Invention of the Cross. Macer’s matter is praised, but not his verse, non sapit ille metro—a true Quintilianian judgment. Petrus Riga (petra cujus rigat Cristus) escapes better. Sedulius is noted for “sedulity” of metre, and Arator “ploughs” the apostolic facts well, while Prudentius, of course, is prudent.
Alanus (de Insulis: “Alanus who was very sage,” as Pierre de la Sippade, the translator of Paris and Vienne from Provençal into French says) is cited for his dealing with the Seven Arts in the Anti-Claudianus; and half-a-dozen lines of rather obscure allusiveness are devoted to Matthias Vindocinensis on Tobit, Geoffrey of Vinsauf (v. infra), and Alexander of Villedieu. Prosper doctrinæ prosperitate sapit; and the list is closed by fresh praises of the above Matthias or Matthew, of Martianus Capella and his “happy style,” of Boethius, Bernardus, the Physiologus, Paraclitus (?), and Sidonius Apollinaris.[[540]]