{"id":9501,"date":"2017-01-31T06:15:42","date_gmt":"2017-01-31T06:15:42","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/manuscriptevidence.org\/wpme\/?p=9501"},"modified":"2022-11-04T15:16:11","modified_gmt":"2022-11-04T15:16:11","slug":"a-12th-century-fragment-of-anselms-cur-deus-homo","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/manuscriptevidence.org\/wpme\/a-12th-century-fragment-of-anselms-cur-deus-homo\/","title":{"rendered":"A 12th-Century Fragment of Anselm’s ‘Cur Deus Homo’"},"content":{"rendered":"
\"Verso<\/a>

Verso of the Leaf and Interior of the Binding, with the Mitered Flap Unfolded.<\/p><\/div>\n

Tied Down<\/h2>\n

Fragmentary Leaf with Part of Anselm’s Cur Deus Homo<\/em><\/strong><\/h2>\n

Book II, Chapters 17\u201318 or <\/strong>18a\u2013b<\/strong>
\n(sumpsit eam<\/em> . . . Nam cum uirg<\/em>[\/initatis melior<\/em>])<\/strong>
\n in Latin on vellum
\nmeasuring at the most circa 307 mm tall \u00d7 circa 182 mm
\n< written area (including ascenders and descenders) 148 mm wide
\nwith each column circa 65 mm wide
\n<\/strong>flanking the intercolumn of circa 18 mm wide ><\/strong>
\n laid out in double columns of 35 lines<\/strong>
\n written in brown ink in skilled ProtoGothic script<\/strong>
\n without embellishments
\n<\/strong><\/h4>\n

Continuing our series on Manuscript Studies<\/a>, our Principal Blogger, Mildred Budny (see Her Page<\/a>) reports the discovery of a reused fragmentary vellum Latin manuscript leaf extracted from a copy of Anselm’s masterwork <\/em>Cur Deus Homo.\u00a0 Whether as a text on its own or in the company of other texts, it was made probably in about the third quarter of the 12th century, to judge by the script, perhaps in France.\u00a0 Norman, maybe?\u00a0 Identifying the text and its sequence makes it possible to recognize which side of the leaf was the original recto, and which the verso.\u00a0 The fragment joins the select known cast of 12th-century manuscript witnesses to this significant philosophical\u2013theological text.<\/em><\/p>\n

Anselm’s texts mostly took the forms of meditations or dialogues. Already our blog has showcased a manuscript with another text by Anselm: A New Leaf from ‘Otto Ege Manuscript 41’<\/a>, which formerly contained a copy of the <\/em>Prayers and Meditations. Now we focus upon one of his principal dialogues, cast between master and follower, as they debate the natures of divinity and necessity.<\/em><\/p>\n

<\/p>\n

Location or Find-Place<\/h3>\n
\"Recto<\/a>

Recto of the Leaf and Exterior of the Binding<\/p><\/div>\n

\"Verso<\/a>

Verso of the Leaf and Interior of the Binding.<\/p><\/div>\n

Now in a private collection, the leaf was purchased recently online from a seller in Thionville<\/a> (see some more information about the place in French<\/a>), on the Moselle River<\/a> in the historical region of Lorraine<\/a> in northeastern France.\u00a0 The leaf came to its present owner with few indications of its provenance and its character, apart from those which it carries upon its very surfaces \u2014 encumbered as they are, with both additions and extractions as well as the effects of heavy wear and tear.<\/p>\n

So, learning the location of its recent point of departure as it made its debut (so far as we know) online helps somewhat in the quest to consider the transmission of the leaf across the centuries.\u00a0 But that knowledge does not take us necessarily very far, and it appears to present a seemingly impenetrable brick wall.<\/p>\n

Remember, an assumption that a medieval manuscript or fragment would have been made and used near where it turns up \u2014 commercially, no less \u2014 in modern times can be rash.\u00a0 Not only because some finders and vendors might wish to hide the traces, but also because the manuscripts could, and sometimes demonstrably did, migrate from place to place, even widely, during the course of their history, medieval included.\u00a0 A forthcoming update for one of our blogposts will tell more about the travels of parts of an Aristotelian manuscript from different 14th-century centers in Eastern Europe, in “More Discoveries for ‘Ege Manuscript 51’.” Meanwhile, see its initial post: More Leaves from ‘Otto Ege Manuscript 51’<\/a>.<\/p>\n

\"Thionville<\/a>

Thionville in 2005. Photograph by Johnny Chicago from lb via Wikipedia Commons.<\/p><\/div>\n

The seller’s listing described the fragment simply thus:<\/p>\n

Document m\u00e9di\u00e9val sur parchemin
\nfin XIV\u00e8me ( probablement vers 1380 )
\nEn l’\u00e9tat, ayant certainement \u00e9t\u00e9 utilis\u00e9 comme reliure
\nTexte et r\u00e9gion \u00e0 d\u00e9couvrir…<\/p>\n

However, a late 14th-century date is too late.\u00a0 The seller’s guess seems like a shot in the dark.\u00a0 Presumably it derives from a glance at the script and aspect, tout court<\/em><\/a> (no exact equivalent in English for this French phrase), without any effort to identify the text or its “r\u00e9gion”.<\/p>\n

The seller’s statement that its condition indicates that the leaf had “certainly been used as binding” corresponds obviously enough with the current shape, having the impositions of secondary trimming and folds, mitered flap, added vellum ties, and pulpy portions of added endpapers.\u00a0 Plus the distinctive traces of wormholes that bored their way through boards, presumably made of wood.\u00a0 Interesting, isn’t it, how much can be seen in the remnants from the fuller form(s) of an earlier state? You could learn some more tips or tricks about such abilities in an illustrated essay about Physical Evidence and Manuscript Conservation: A Scholar’s Plea<\/a>.<\/p>\n

Strictly speaking, the phrasing of the vendor’s statement might imply that the fragment came into his hands already having been stripped of its innards comprising written materials of some kind.\u00a0 Those materials presumably comprised sheets of paper, not vellum, perhaps the same stock as the pulpy whitish remnants of the pastedowns and liner.<\/p>\n

However, it is rarely certain that observers’ or sellers’ or cataloguers’ brief descriptions of artefacts placed in their presence display a full precision of terminology \u2014 unless, say, the specific agent defines the chosen terms clearly and\/or we may check their terms against the thing itself in the same state. You can read my crisp observations about such situations and uncertainties, deserving to be taken firmly into account, in a study of a lost Anglo-Saxon textile: The Byrhtnoth Tapestry or Embroidery<\/a>.<\/p>\n

\"Recto<\/a>

Recto of the Leaf and Exterior of the Binding, Detail: Bottom.<\/p><\/div>\n

The Reuse<\/h3>\n

After removal from the former manuscript, the leaf was trimmed at the top and part of the sides.\u00a0 The original recto was turned outward, and so offered up to exposure, wear, and tear more than the enclosed interior.\u00a0 The corners of the lower margin were folded to form mitered turn-ins for a tapered flap, into which was laced a vellum thong for ties.\u00a0 Then came the stiffener, with pasted portions.\u00a0 Parts of those pastedowns have peeled or fallen away, exposing more parts of the script, along with the signs of wear, tear, wrinkles, and holes.<\/p>\n

\"Verso<\/a>

Verso of the Leaf and Interior of the Binding, Detail: Lower Right-Hand Corner, with the Mitered Flap Unfolded.<\/p><\/div>\n

Remnants of several lines of modern arabic numerals and perhaps letters entered in ink at the top of the recto, but partly trimmed at their right-hand-side, stand in the original upper margin.\u00a0 Set at a right angle to the original text, they appear to record or calculate sums, presumably receipts.<\/p>\n

\"Recto<\/a>

Recto of the Leaf and Exterior of the Binding, Detail: Top, Lines 1-9, turned sideways.<\/p><\/div>\n

A Former State<\/h3>\n

Apart from its flap, the former state of the item may have somewhat resembled, say, the composite artefact reported in one of our blogposts, introducing Item Number 5 in my Illustrated Handlist<\/a>.\u00a0 Seen, outspread, the outside and the inside of the gutted notebook show the reused medieval vellum cover, plus ties, and the paper interior, front pastedown and inner leaves included.<\/p>\n

\"Inside<\/a>

Budny’s Handlist 5, Interior. Photography \u00a9 Mildred Budny.<\/p><\/div>\n

\"The<\/a>

Budny’s Handlist 5, Exterior. Photography \u00a9 Mildred Budny.<\/p><\/div>\n

That item combines a medieval bifolium \u2014 removed more-or-less intact from a medium-format Vulgate Latin Psalter \u2014 and a modern paper notebook.\u00a0 The vellum bifolium remains in its reused state as the cover of the binding of an 18th-century paper notebook with with receipts in French, including some dated examples, extending from the mid-18th-century to 1809, with some of its portions removed and lost. The reused medieval bifolium, which presents 2 non-consecutive leaves of text, wraps around the pasteboards of the paper notebook.\u00a0 We call it a Cover-Up<\/a>.<\/p>\n

Another example in the same Illustrated Handlist<\/a> and in our blog shows a mitred flap, plus tie, which conforms with the style of “our” fragment.<\/p>\n

\"Justinian<\/a>

Budny Handlist 7: Folder from Front, with Added Title Shown Upright<\/p><\/div>\n

\"Justinian<\/a>

Budny Handlist 7: Folder from Back with Flap.<\/p><\/div>\n

Handlist<\/a> Number 7 represents a large-format double-column leaf on vellum containing part of the text of the Emperor Justinian’s “Novels” (as in Laws, not the fictional genre of prose narratives) removed from a decorated copy made at Bologna or Padua circa 1260\u20131280.\u00a0 After some reshaping, with folds and a mitered flap, plus an added tie, the unit served for some time as the folder for some written materials or other, now unknown.\u00a0 They were removed before the medieval portion was offered for sale on its own, in Italy.\u00a0 Only the added script in an originally blank area of the medieval leaf (a margin beside the columns of text) gives any suggestion about the former contents.<\/p>\n

Guess what: In our blog, It’s A Wrap<\/a>.<\/p>\n

Now we focus on the Anselm fragment, which likewise found a second state in the service of enveloping some text(s) or other, presumably of a mundane nature.\u00a0 Quite a comedown, presumably, from its lofty original subject?<\/p>\n

The Fragment of Text<\/h3>\n

“Our” fragment represents part of the text of the short, but significant, <\/b>Cur Deus Homo?<\/i> (“Why [Was or<\/em> Is] God a Man?”), sometimes translated as Why God Became a Man<\/i>. Its prolific author was one of the most influential among philosophical and theological thinkers of the high medieval period, and he held a major r\u00f4le in shaping scholasticism<\/a> as a method of critical thought.\u00a0 Saint\u00a0Anselm of Canterbury<\/a> (1033\u20131109), archbishop of Canterbury from 1093 to 1109), composed this text during the period of 1094\u20131098.\u00a0 That is, it dates during his tenure as archbishop, but the composition was concluded specifically during the first of his 2 periods in exile, which occurred from October 1097 to 11oo; the second occurred from 1105 to 1107.<\/p>\n

So prominent a figure in medieval theology, philosophy, and ecclesiastical history has many assessments<\/a> introducing him and his achievements to the modern world.<\/p>\n

The Author Anselm<\/h3>\n
\"Bodleian<\/a>

Bodleian Library, MS. Auct. D. 2. 6, folio 156r, Top. Opening of Anselm’s ‘Prayers and Meditations’. Photo: \u00a9 Bodleian Library, University of Oxford.<\/p><\/div>\n

Considering the nature of Anselm’s achievements and impact, we might take inspiration from the progression of long-term immersion in the subject by the distinguished Oxford historian R.W. Southern<\/a> (1912\u20132001). For example, his study of Anselm’s development as author and thinker, which emerged first as Saint Anselm and his Biographer: A study of Monastic Life and Thought 1059\u00a0\u2013 c. 1130<\/em><\/a> (Cambridge, 1963), grew in rewritten form into Saint Anselm: A Portrait in a Landscape<\/em><\/a> (Cambridge, 1990).<\/p>\n

And now, for the simple purposes of introducing the “new” fragment from a copy of Anselm’s short text of monumental proportions, Cur Deus homo<\/em>, we might think of the story of both the author and the treatise as A Portrait in Landscapes<\/em>, travelling widely across time and place.\u00a0 “Our” little fragment itself has travelled no little in its voyage from the medieval world, already from within about a century of the composition of the text, into the modern, and from country to country and continent to continent.<\/p>\n

\"View<\/a>

View of Aosta. Photograph by Tinelot Wittermans (2004) via Creative Commons.<\/p><\/div>\n

Born at Aosta<\/a> in Upper Burgundy (now in Italy), Anselm became a Benedictine monk at the age of 27 at the Abbey of Bec<\/a> in Normandy.\u00a0 There he served as Abbot from 1078 to 1093.<\/p>\n

\"View<\/a>

View of the Abbey of Bec centered upon the Tour Saint-Nicolas. Photograph by Efcuse (2009) via Creative Commons.<\/p><\/div>\n

Next came the elevation to Archbishop of Canterbury<\/a>, a position not without its ups and downs in the complicated relationship between Anselm and the English king, William II<\/a> (circa 1056 – 1100, king from 1087). Consequently, Anselm did not reside for the full duration of his office within its metropolitan see and in command of Canterbury Cathedral<\/a>.\u00a0 Although the structure of that edifice has changed over the centuries, not only decisively from the Anglo-Saxon to the Anglo-Norman periods, there remain above ground some traces of its aspect under the Norman archbishops, starting with Anselm’s predecessor Lanfranc<\/a>.<\/p>\n

A wistful interim view of the edifice appears in the Victorian image of the Cathedral published from a painting by George Cattermole<\/a> in John Britton, The History and Antiquities of the Metropolitical Church of Canterbury: Illustrated by a Series of Engravings, of Views, Elevations, Plans, and Details of the Architecture of that Edifice, with Biographical Anecdotes of the Archibishops, Etc<\/i> (London, 1821), page 125 (seen here). There we see the Western Towers of the Cathedral, prior to the rebuilding of the Northwest Tower.<\/p>\n

\"Canterbury<\/a>

Canterbury Cathedral, view of the Western Towers, engraved by John Le Keux after a picture by George Cattermole (published in 1821). Via Wikimedia.<\/p><\/div>\n

In a curious way, disseminated at several removes through mass-production, this Victoria view on the ground from a different moment in its lonh history might resemble, or symbolize, the partly completed and ongoing reconstruction, sometimes lopsided, of the cathedral church at Canterbury\u00a0\u2014 and for that matter of the English Church and Peoples as a whole under the Normans after their Conquest, by leaps and bounds since 1066 and beyond \u2014 which Anselm witnessed and helped to put into effect.<\/p>\n

Location, Location, Location<\/h3>\n
\"Panorama<\/a>

Panorama of Schiavi di Abruzzo. Photograph by ccirulli (2009) via Creative Commons.<\/p><\/div>\n

During his first period of exile, Anselm competed Cur Deus Homo<\/em> at the mountain village of Schiavi di Abruzzo<\/a> in the province of Caserta in central Italy.\u00a0 We know more about the composition of the work, and its iterations, as well as its circumstances, than about many medieval works, even when their authors are known.\u00a0 How is that?\u00a0 He tells us.\u00a0 His Preface<\/em> to it states:<\/p>\n

propter quosdam qui, antequam perfectum et exquisitum esset, primas partes eius me nesciente sibi transcribebant, festinantius quam mihi opportunum est, ac ideo breuius quam uellem sum coactus ut potui consummare. . . . In magna enim tribulatione, . . . illud in Anglia rogatus incepi, et in Capuana prouincia peregrinus perfeci.<\/p>\n

(“on account of some people who were making copies for themselves, without my knowledge, of the first parts of the work before it was complete or polished, I have been forced to make an end of it, as far as I could, more quickly than is convenient to me and more concisely than I wished. . . . At a time of great trouble . . . I began the work in England at another’s request and finished it as an exile in the province of Capua.”)<\/p>\n

\u2014 Edition by Schmitt (1940), II, page 42; translation by Sharpe (2009), page 2 note 3 [For references, see below]<\/p>\n

Fortunate we are that this author and his circle left specific testimony concerning some of the logistics as well as the intentions underlying the production and circulation of the written texts.\u00a0 The surviving manuscripts themselves may add eloquent, if elusive, elements to the story.<\/p>\n

Text as Defining Attribute<\/h3>\n

So important is this text in the author’s oeuvre, its title was chosen for the cover of the closed book which the archbishop holds at his chest in his full-length statue in a prime position on the south face of the porch on the exterior of Canterbury Cathedral.\u00a0 There he stands among the four great Archbishops, Augustine<\/a>, Lanfranc, Anselm, and Cranmer<\/a>, and with many other worthies deemed appropriate for monumental depiction upon that edifice in the high Victorian period. The story of the Statues on the West Front of Canterbury Cathedral<\/a> is revealing, with almost all of the 55 full-length figures in niches produced by Theodore John Baptiste Phyffers<\/a> (circa 1820\u20131876), a Belgian sculptor resident and working in London.<\/p>\n

\"Saint<\/a>

Saint Anselm, Archbishop of Canterbury, carved in stone by Theodore Phyffers (1821-1876) on the exterior of Canterbury Cathedral.<\/p><\/div>\n

\"Southwest<\/a>

Southwest Porch of Canterbury Cathedral, with niches filled by 1869 with sculptures by Theodore Pfyffers. Photography<\/p><\/div>\n

(Views of the southwest porch with Anselm’s statue also formerly appeared via http:\/\/cranberrymorning.blogspot.com\/2015\/06\/canterbury-cathedral-england-anglophile.html\/.)<\/p>\n

Words, Words, Words<\/h3>\n

The text of Cur Deus Homo<\/em> is available freely online in several versions, mostly out-of-copyright, and also elsewhere in print.\u00a0 A few references, with links where available, demonstrate the range.\u00a0 The comments here chart a course through them, including those versions which provide vernacular translations for the Latin, or depend upon others’ editions not still in copyright and not necessarily dependable as records of Anselm’s rendition or the manuscript witnesses’ variants.<\/p>\n

Latin Editions<\/h4>\n
\"Title<\/a>

Title Page for Anselm’s ‘Complete Works’ in Gabriel Gerberon’s edition as republished by J.-P. Migne. Via gallica.bnf.fr.<\/p><\/div>\n