Topics:
Fog as narrative device: The metaphorical "for
of my soul" that Adso refers to was anticipated by the
fog in Fourth Day: Compline (pp. 307-9),
where Salvatore expected the fog to conceal his nocturnal
movements about the monastery.
"He was Adam, dressed in a purple cloak" (p.429):[Tammy Bennington comments] This passage from
Adso's dream is an allusion to Revelation 17:4: "...the woman was
arrayed in purple and scarlet colour, and decked with gold and precious
stones and pearls, having a golden cup in her hand full of abominations and
filthiness of her fornication..."[Tammy Bennington comments] I believe
this passage represents the pomp and hypocracy of the abbey as well as
false religion.
"... and as if the substantial form of man's very body, the
masterpiece of creation, had shattered into plural and separate
accidental forms, thus becoming the image of its own opposite, form no
longer ideal but earthly, of dust and stinking fragments, capable of
signifying only death and destruction...." (p. 433): [Nancy Pine
comments:] References to the notions of opposites and forms are found in
Plato's Socratic dialogue Phaedo. The ideal Forms are divine
universals that cannot be realized in life. Examples are Beauty,
Courage, Justice, etc. An "earthly" form, of which Eco writes, is not
Beauty itself but rather a human-detectable particular participating in
the Form of Beauty. Socrates uses the rule of opposites to prove that
the soul exists after death. He arguably states that opposites come
from their opposites; therefore, there can be no death without life and
vice versa. Socrates then expounds on this notion by saying that "an
opposite will never be its own opposite" (142). For example, hot, when
subjected to cold, will either retreat or be destroyed; "it will never
venture to admit coldness and remain what it was, fire and cold" (142).
Subsequently, opposite Forms will not admit each other. Thus when Eco
writes of "accidental forms" and "image of its own opposite," the rules
of universal opposites and forms have been breeched. Chaos or even
apocryphal events will follow.
"in hell or in such a paradise as Salvatore would have
imagined" (p. 427): Compare the notion of hell as "heaven
from the other side" (p. 65).
Kitchen humor (p. 427): Eco's source is Ernst
Robert Curtius, European Literature in the Latin
Middle Ages, trans. Willard Trask (New York: Harper,
1953), pp. 431-33.
Smithy and bellows, fire and hammers of the smith as
symbolic of the Underworld: The symbolic association
of the smithy (and also of volcanoes) with hell and
of smiths with devils is evident in the Voyage of
St. Brendan (early 10th-century narrative, based on
an 9th-century legend of Brendan, who lived ca. 486-578);
Chapter XI, where Brendan and his disciples sail in their boat
to a volcanic island. There, they hear the noise of forges,
and bellows like thunder. A smith appears, a hairy,
hideous creature blackened with fire and smoke, who
seizes a great burning slag of iron in his tongs and throws
it at them, but because they were protected by the sign
of Christ (the Cross), the iron slag missed them and fell
into the sea. Sources: Navigatio Sancti Brendani Abbatis,
ed. C. Selmer (Notre Dame University Press, 1959); The
Voyage of Brendan: Journey from the Promised Land, trans.
John O'Meara (Atlantic Highlands, NJ: Humanities Press, 1976).
Again, in Tundale's Vision of Heaven and Hell (1149, by
an Irish monk), chapter XI, one part of hell is a valley
of smithies or foundry-shops, with great forges in which
are kept the souls of "thosae who add sin to sin." Source:
The Vision of Tundale, edited from BL MS Cotton Caligula A II,
ed. Rodney Mearns (Heidelberg: Carl Winter, 1985).
Chaucer hints
of the diabolical in his portrait of Gervase the smith, in
his Miller's Tale. An alliterative poem of the
mid 15th century, reads:
Swarte-smeked smethes, smatered with smoke,
Drive me to deth with den of here dintes:
Swich nois on nightes ne herd men never,
What knavene cry and clatering of knockes!
The cammede kongons cryen after "Col! Col!"
And blowen here bellewes that all here brin brestes.
"Huf! Puf!" seith than on, "Haf! Paf!" that other.
They spitten and sprawlen and spellen many spelles,
They gnawen and gnacchen, they grones togidere,
And holden hem hote with here hard hamers.
Of a bole hide ben here barm-felles,
Here shankes ben shakeled for the fere-flunderes.
Hevy hemeres they han that hard ben handled,
Stark strokes they striken on a steled stocke.
"Lus, bus, las, das!" rowten by rowe.
Swich dolful a dreme the Devil it todrive!
The maister longeth a litil and lasheth a lesse,
Twineth hem twein and toucheth a treble.
"Tik, tak, hic, hac, tiket, taket, tik, tak,
Lus, bus, lus, das!" Swich lif they leden,
Alle clothemeres, Christ hem give sorwe!
May no man for brenwateres on night han his rest.
R. T. Davies, Medieval English Lyrics (Northwestern
University Press, 1964), no. 115, p. 213, gives the
following translation: "Smoke-blackened smiths, begrimed with smoke, drive me to
death with the din of their blows: such noise by night no
man ever heard, what crying of workmen and clattering of
blows! The snumb-nosed changelings cry out for "Coal! Coal!"
and blow their bellows fit to burst their brains. "Huf,
Puf!" says that one, and "Haf, paf!" the other. They spit
and sprawl and tell many tales, they gnaw and gnash, they
groan together, and keep themselves hot with their hard
hammers. Of a bull's hide are their leather aprons, their
legs are protected against the fiery sparks. Heavy hammers
they have that are handled hard, strong blows they strike
on an anvil of steel. "Lus, bus, las, das!" they crash in
turn. May the Devil put an end to so miserable a racket. The
master-smith lengthens a little piece of iron, hammers
a smaller piece, tists the two together and strikes a treble
note (?). Such a life they lead, all smiths who clothe
horses in iron armor, may Heaven punish them! Because of smiths
who burn water (when the cool hot iron in it, no man can
sleep at night."