Umberto Eco's The Name of the Rose
Seventh Day: Night (pp. 463-79)


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The iconography of time in "Seventh Day: Night," the time when the monastery is destroyed, is based ultimately on two details in II Peter 3:8-10: first, the statement that "one day is with the Lord as a thousand years" (verse 8), and second, that "the day of the Lord will come as a thief in the night" (verse 10). Thus, the end of the world will come after 6 "millenial days," that is, 6000 years after the creation of the world, on the seventh "millenial day," and it will come at night.

In Second Day: Prime (pp. 110-20), William deduced that the murders in the monastery had something to do with a copy of Book II of Aristotle's Poetics. His intial speculation got circumvented in a debate as to whether Aristotle ever wrote Book II, on Comedy, and if he did, whether knowledge of this book had come to the medieval West directly from Greek, or through Arabic intermediaries. Now, in "Seventh Day: Night," William's hypothesis about the Poetics manuscript is confirmed, and Jorge allows him to see the manuscript, the pages of which, however, are covered with a poison that is fatal to touch.

"As he [William' translated he smiled, as if he recognized things he was expecting to find" (p. 468). [Toni Thayer comments] While reading Eco’s reconstructed introduction to the second book of Aristotle’s Poetics, William “smiled, as if he recognized things he expected to find” (p 468). Later, William tells Jorge how he had come to know what Aristotle’s book on comedy would say without ever reading it. Going from clues in the first book of Poetics and Rhetoric and from the writings of Isidore of Seville, he explains, “Gradually this second book took shape in my mind as it had to be. I could tell you almost of it, without reading the pages that were meant to poison me.”

This reconstruction of a coveted lost text, by both Eco and William, through the clues of another echoes the efforts of the “tlönistas” in Borges’ “Tlön, Uqbar, Orbis Tertius” to reconstruct the whole of the encyclopedia of Tlön from the information contained in the extant Vol. XI.

I find this particularly interesting given Eco’s attention to the role of the reader in his theoretical works. In Six Walks in the Fictional Woods, he comments, “in building a world that comprises myriad events and characters, it [the narrative] cannot say everything about this world. It hints at it and then asks the reader to fill in a whole series of gaps ... What a problem it would be if a text were to say everything the receiver is to understand—it would never end” (3). Thus all readers must reconstruct the world inside the book. And to take it a step further: if, as Eco maintains in the postscript to The Name of the Rose, “books are made only from other books and around other books,” the reader must also to some degree reconstruct the other books that have gone into the making of the book they are reading. Eco, William, and the “tlönistas” are all merely engaged in an extreme form of this requisite readerly reconstruction.

"Every book by that man [Aristotle] has destroyed a part of the learning that Christianity has accumulated over the centuries [and] . . . the Arab Averroes almost convinced everyone of the eternity of the world" (p. 473) [Azuah Unoma comments]: Jorges' dislike of the Arabs or the Averroes as implied in his statement, >is not just because of their almost convincing everyone of the eternity >of the world. It is because the Arabs supported Aristotle in the 13th century. >In Rosa Menocal's words"...many of the most influential "translations" >were not at all translations from the greek as such but rather translations >of Arabic Philosophical commentaries on Aristotle, who for some centuries >had been one of the Philosophical luminaries in the Arabic tradition..." >
For promoting Aristotle's writings, Boethius and the Arabs are guilty >of the same crime,as far as Jorges is concerned.

Jorge reveals the truth about the deaths (pp. 463-65) -- that there was no premeditated pattern or plan behind them, although when William investigated them, he had expected to find a pattern. Eco's model for this contrast between expectations and result probably was Jorge Borges' "Death and the Compass," where the detective, Eric Lonnrot, investigates a series of murders by seeking an underlying pattern that links them, only to learn from Red Scharlach, later, that there was no pattern, only opportunism, and that Scharlach had not even been responsible for the first murder -- just as no one was directly responsible for Adelmo's death, which had been a suicide.

"From the first day I realized you would understand" (p. 465): Jorge respects William of Baskerville as his first really challenging opponent. Intellectual affinity between the criminal and the detective is a theme that first appears in Poe's "The Purloined Letter," where Auguste Dupin regards the Minister as a formidable opponent because he is a poet. Again, Sherlock Holmes and Professor Moriarty consider each other formidable opponents. In Jorge Borges' "Death and the Compass," Erik Lonnrot and Red Scharlach regard each other as worthy intellectual opponents, even though Scharlach nurses a passionate hatred for Lonnrot.

Aristotle's Poetics, Book II (pp. 466-68): Aristotle's treatise on Comdey, Book II of the Poetics, does not survive. For this scene, Eco develops a speculatively reconstructed "introduction" to Book II. There have been scholarly attempts to reconstruct Aristotle's theory of comedy, based on his allusions to comedy in Poetics, Book I, and in his Rhetoric. Particularly important discussions are Lane Cooper, An Aristotelian Theory of Comedy (New York, 1922), A. P. McMahon, "Seven Questions on Aristotelian Definitions of Tragedy and Comedy," Harvard Studies in Classical Philology 11 (1929): 97-198 (who shows that there is remarkable continuity in definitions of tragedy and comedy from late classical times through the Middle Ages), and Leon Golden, "Aristotle on Comedy," Journal of Aesthetics and Art Criticism 42 (1984): 283-90.

An important part of this reconstruction is the assumption that Aristotle regarded tragedy and comedy as polar contrasts, and thus, his discussion of them would have had a parallel structure. Golden (1984) follows this line, noting that the characteristics of tragedy, in Aristotle's analysis, are as follows: (1) it is a form of mimesis, that is, imitation (2) of an action that is noble, complete, and (3) of a certain magnitude; (4) presented in pleasing, artistically adorned language, (4) by actors performing roles, not by narration, (6) evoking the emotions of pity and fear (7) with the goal of achieving catharsis, meaning "purging" the emotions of pity and fear.
nemesan), (7) with the goal of achieving "catharsis," meaning, in this case, "intellectual clarification."

"Comedy is born from the komai--that is, from the peasant villages" (p. 472): The source is a 4th-century Latin grammarian, Evanthius, whose treatise, De Fabula ("On Drama") provides etymological explanations of both "tragedy' and "comedy." Evanthius traces the origins of tragedy and comedy to pagan Greek harvest rituals. Tragedy originally took the form of proto-dramatic choral singing to the god Bacchus. The word "tragedy" is from "apo tou tragou kai tes oides -- that is, from `goat' an enemy of vineyards, and from `song'. There is a full reference to this in Virgil's Georgics [II.380 ff.], either because the poet of this sort of song was given a goat, or because a goatskin full of new wine was the usual reward given to the singers; or else because the players used to smear their faces with wine-lees prior to the introduction of masks by Aesthylus. `Wine-lees' in Greek is truges. And the word `tragedy' was invented for these reasons."

Evanthius continues with a similar etymological explanation of 'comedy' (and Eco's use of Evanthius will be obvious from the quotation):

"But while the Athenians were not yet confined to the city and Apollo was called 'Nomius' [shepherd] and 'Aguieus' [guardian]-- that is, guardian of shepherds and villages, they erected altars for divine worship around the hamlets, farms, villages, and crossroads of Attica and solemnly chanted a festival song to him. It was called comedy apo ton domon kai tes oides -- the name composed, as I think, from "villages" [komai] and "song" [oide]. Or else it was composed apo tou komazein kai aidein -- going to a revel singing. This is not unlikely since the comic chorus was drunk or engaged in lovemaking on the sacred day."

Aelius Donatus, another 4th-century Latin grammarian, in his De Comedia repeats from Evanthius: "Comedy received its name from ancient custom. In early times this kind of song was sung "in the villages [apo tes komes] -- as is the case with the "crossroads festivals" [compitalia] in Italy."

[Comedy shows] "the defects and vices of ordinary men" (p. 472): Evanthius, in De Fabula, writes, "In comedy the fortunes of men are middle-class, the dangers are slight, and the ends of the actions are happy, while in tragedy everything is the opposite--the characters are great men, the fears are intense, and the ends disasterous."

Aelius Donatus, in De Comedia writes, "The Greeks define it [comedy] as follows: `Comedy deals with the acts of private persons in a story that lacks serious danger'. Comedy, says Cicero, is `an imitation of life, a mirror of character, and an image of truth'." Cicero's definition is repeated often in the Renaissance, but comes from Donatus; this definition of comedy is not found in Cicero's extant works.

Spanish Apocalypses (p. 470), and Spain's reputation for producing the most splendid illustrated Apocalypses: The library's collection of Spanish Apocalypses was first noticed by Adso in Third Day: After Compline (pp. 221-50), at page 241. At this point in the plot, we understand that Jorge of Burgos had obtained the position of librarian, contrary to the customs of succession, because he had obtained a great number of Spanish Apocalypses for the library.

An important Spanish commentary on Revelation is Beatus of Liebana's late 8th-century Commentary on the Apocalypse. Twenty-six surviving copies of this Commentary are illuminated with pictures of the Antichrist both as the Beast of Revelation 13:1-10, and as a human Antichrist. A census of 174 illuminated Apocalypses and related manuscripts, many of them from Spain, is provided by Richard K. Emmerson and Suzanne Lewis, "Census and Bibliography of Medieval Manuscripts Containing Apocalypse Illustrations, ca. 800-1500," Traditio 40 (1984): 337-79, 41 (1985): 367-409, and 42 (1986): 443-72. The Beatus Apocalypses from Spain are numbered 8-32 in this census.

"Before, we used to look to heaven" (p. 473): The contrast between Jorge's conservative mode of thinking, associated with Boethius' Consolation of Philosophy, and the protomodern mode of thinking, associated with Roger Bacon's Aristotelianism, was anticipated in the Brunellus episode: Adso's gaze was drawn upward toward the Aedificium (pp. 21-22), so he did not notice the horses' hoofprints in the snow, which William did observe, in close detail and to everyone's admiration.

"...when what has been marginalized would leap to the center,every trace of the center would be lost. The people of God would be transformed into an assembly of monsters..." (p. 475): [Unoma Azuah comments] Just as the Greeks believe that sickness is a physical manifestation of unholiness, Jorges insists that the unworthy must remain at the margin, to prevent them from contaminating the worthy/holy. Jorges demonstrates his attitude of exclusion symbolically, by poisoning the edges of Aristotle's Poetics 11, so that whoever tries to reach the center from the fringes, dies. Saint Francis must have been the first to die. Jorges condemnation of Saint Francis's vision of inclusiveness is implied in his statement "...when what has been marginalized would leap to the center,every trace of the center would be lost. The people of God would be transformed into an assembly of monsters..." N.T.R,page 475 Just as the Greeks believe that sickness is a physical manifestation of unholiness, Jorges insists that the unworthy must remain at the margin, to prevent them from contaminating the worthy/holy. Jorges demonstrates his attitude of exclusion symbolically, by poisoning the edges of Aristotle's Poetics 11, so that whoever tries to reach the center from the fringes, dies. Saint Francis must have been the first to die.

"`You are the Devil', William said then [to Jorge]" (p. 477): Eco defines the postmodern not as a rejection of the modern but as its ironic rereading. In "Postscript to The Name of the Rose," he posits: "The postmodern reply to the modern consists of recognizing that the past, since it cannot really be destroyed, because its destruction leads to silence, must be revisited: but with irony, not innocently. ... If 'posmodern' means this, it is clear why ... in the same artist the modern moment and the postmodern moment can coexist, or alternate, or follow each other closely....[Postmodern discourse] demands, in order to be understood, not the negation of the already said, but its ironic rethinking" (NR 530,1) William exemplifies Eco's postmodern sensibility: the modern and the postmodern moment coexist within him as he rethinks the past with irony. His remonstration with Jorge about laughter demonstrates this coexistence. Jorge condemns laughter, as it threatens the divine order of the universe and opens the eyes of men to a topsy-turvy world. William perceives laughter as a liberation of the senses and the intellect from fear and in turn from ignorance, thus allowing the possiblity for discovering truth. In response to his indictment of laughter, William accuses Jorge of being the Devil and says, "The Devil is not the Prince of Matter; the Devil is the arrogance of the spirit, faith without smile, truth that is never seized by doubt" (477). William does not reject the notion of divine order but values man's right to question, to doubt and to laugh, to free himself of the absolute tyranny of the way of things. Like Eco, he does not negate the past but allows for its ironic rethinking. 77) [Susan Little comments] Eco defines the postmodern not as a rejection of the modern but as its ironic rereading. In "Postscript to The Name of the Rose," he posits: "The postmodern reply to the modern consists of recognizing that the past, since it cannot really be destroyed, because its destruction leads to silence, must be revisited: but with irony, not innocently. ... If 'postmodern' means this, it is clear why ... in the same artist the modern moment and the postmodern moment can coexist, or alternate, or follow each other closely....[Postmodern discourse] demands, in order to be understood, not the negation of the already said, but its ironic rethinking" (NR 530,1) William exemplifies Eco's postmodern sensibility: the modern and the postmodern moment coexist within him as he rethinks the past with irony. His remonstration with Jorge about laughter demonstrates this coexistence. Jorge condemns laughter, as it threatens the divine order of the universe and opens the eyes of men to a topsy-turvy world. William perceives laughter as a liberation of the senses and the intellect from fear and in turn from ignorance, thus allowing the possiblity for discovering truth. In response to his indictment of laughter, William accuses Jorge of being the Devil and says, "The Devil is not the Prince of Matter; the Devil is the arrogance of the spirit, faith without smile, truth that is never seized by doubt" (477). William does not reject the notion of divine order but values man's right to question, to doubt and to laugh, to free himself of the absolute tyranny of the way of things. Like Eco, he does not negate the past but allows for its ironic rethinking.

"I know as if I saw it . . . with my eyes, which see things you do not see" (p. 479): [Marilyn Sutton comments] Because Sophocles' Oedipus Rex is the model for Aristotle's discussion on tragedy in Book 1 of the Poetics (Martin, 148), Eco creates the blind and all-knowing Jorge in The Name of the Rose as a twisted mirror image of Teiresias, the blind, all-knowing, wise, and good prophet in Oedipus Rex. According to deLailhacar, Jorge is "a diabolically inverted image of the blind seer" (deLailhacar, 157).

Sources:

deLailhacar, Christine. "The Mirror and the Encyclopedia." Ed. Edna Aizenberg. Borges and His Successors: The Borgesian Impact on Literature and the Arts. Columbia: Univ. of Missouri Press, 1990. 155-79.

Martin, Jorge Hernandez. Readers and Labyrinths: Detective Finction in Borges, Bustos Domecq, and Eco. New York: Garland Publishing, 1995.

The next study page is Seventh Day: Night (pp. 480-93).