Who composed Havelok
for whom?
Robert Levine, Yearbook
for English Studies,XXII (1992), pp. 95-104.
Lessons learned in attempting to determine who made up the
audience for medieval fabliaux have not been transferred to the problem of who
made up the audience for Middle English romances. Havelok in particular
has generated a confused and confusing discussion, partly because those who
have speculated on the problem tend to rely on the questionable hypothesis that
in the Middle Ages aristocrats and bourgeois -- or aristocrats and peasants --
had antithetical tastes in literature. In addition, they fail to consider other
comparable medieval texts, of the thirteenth and earlier centuries,
particularly in their representations of the lower classes and of violence.
John Halverson, for example, finds Havelok "entirely and
essentially middle-class," while the promotion of Grim's sons from
fishermen to barons is an articulation of "... a peasant fantasy of class
ambition and resentment." [John Halverson, "Havelok the Dane and
Society," Chaucer Review 6 (1971) 142-151; pp. 149-150)] As
additional evidence he offers the fact that noble usurpers fall to a far more
ignominious death in the English than in the French version. The implication of
a relationship between tolerance for violence and social class is misleading,
particularly in the light of the work done on fabliaux by Per Nykrog and, more
recently, by R. Howard Bloch (Per Nykrog, Les fabliaux., Geneva, 1973,
pp. xxxviii ff. (R. Howard Bloch, The Scandal of the Fabliaux, Chicago,
1986). Nykrog, in fact, insists that categorically clear distinctions among
literary genres did not exist in the thirteenth century (An extension of the
intuition offered by Ernst Curtius, in European Literature and the Latin
Middle Ages, New York, 1963, p. 424).
Nevertheless, critics continue to judge Havelok on the
basis of an expressed or implied difference in aesthetic taste between social
classes, as John Ganim demonstrates in his attempt to describe and classify the
stylized violence in the poem:
Even in the frequent scenes of violence in
the poem the horror of what is being described is very often mitigated by an
exaggerated scale and an enthusiastic, uncritical tone...the blood, gore, and
torture of some of these scenes suggest to the audience not naturalism, but a
rather naive fantasy world not unlike a modern cartoon or western (John M.
Ganim, Style and Consciousness in Middle English Literature, Princeton
1983, p. 30).
Some readers, however, might not find such qualities in the
scene in which Godard replies to the request for food made by Havelok's sisters
by slitting their throats:
Godard herde here wa,
Theroffe yaf he nouth a stra,
But tok the maydens bothe samen,
Also it were up-on hiis gamen --
Also he wold with hem leyke,
That weren for hunger grene and bleike.
Of bothen he karf on two here throtes,
And sithen, hem al to grotes. (ll. 465-472)
(Thomas J. Garbaty, Medieval English
Literature, Lexington, 1984, p. 194)
In addition, the version of this scene that Havelok later
offers to Grim's sons bears no clear resemblance to a cartoon:
For y saw that fule fend
Mine sistres slo with hise hend;
First he shar a-two here throtes,
And sithen hem al to grotes... (ll.
1412-15)
Nor does the later passage in which Ubbe repeats the scene in an
abbreviated version (2040-2045).
However, the scene that is likely to generate the most
discomfort for modern readers is the one in which Godard is flayed alive. A
virtuoso of violence, the poet provides the slitting of Godard's toe, a
comparison of the victim's skin to cloth, and then the sound of intolerable
pain:
Sket cam a ladde with a knif,
And bigan rith at the to
For to ritte, and for to flo,
So it were goun or gore,
And he bigan for to rore
That men mithe thethen a mile
Here him rore, that fule file. (2314-2320)
Godard's bellowing in no way impedes the flayer, who carries out
his task as relentlessly as Godard had carried out his earlier work with the
knife:
The ladde ne let no with forthi,
They he cried 'merci! merci!" --
That he ne flow him everilk del
With knif mad of grunden stel. (2321-2324)
Godard's body is then placed on a horse, in a supremely
humiliating position, and finally hanged:
Thei garte bringe the mere sone,
Skabbed and ful ivele o bone,
And bunden him rith at hire tayl
With a rop of an old seyl,
And drowen him unto the galwes,
Nouth bi the gate, but over the falwes,
And heng him thore bi the hals:
Datheit how recke! he was fals. (2325-2332)
The detailed, enthusiastic description of the punishment meted
out to Godard is disturbing, and certainly must have disturbed
thirteenth-century listeners and readers, but these passages do not clearly
show the naiveté of a cartoon or western. Dante eagerly and proudly provides
equally horrible detail in Inferno xxv, and again, with greater horror, in
his depiction of Ugelino and Roger in Inferno xxx. Certainly Ovid's description
of the flaying of Marsysas in book six of the Metamorphoses matches the Middle
English passage shock for shock, in spite of the fact that it was not composed
for the pleasure of members of the Roman lower classes:
clamanti cutis est summos direpta per
artus,
nec quicquam nisi vulnus erat; cruor
undique manat,
detectique patent nervi, trepidaeque sine
ulla
pelle micant venae; salientia viscera
possis
et perlucentes numerare in pectore fibras.
(ll. 387-391)
(Ovid, Metamorphoses, London, 1916,
vol. I.)
Ovid's lines may be more highly stylized than those of the
Middle English poet, but a medieval translator and allegorizer of the Metamorphoses,
too fastidious to transmit the details of the flaying to an audience of
fourteenth-century Christians, at this point in his translation merely offers:
Phebus fist Marsie escorcier.
(ovide moralisé, ed. by C. De Boer,
Amsterdam, 1915-1938, 5 volumes, vol. 6, p. 331, l. 1967)
An example from another, later romance, the decapitation of
Bertilak in Gawain and the Green Knight may serve as a graphic example
of violence clearly not fabricated exclusively for the amusement of the lower
classes:
Gawan gripped to his ax, and gederes hit on
hy3t,
the kay fot on the folde he before sette,
let hit doun li3tly on the naked,
that the scharpe of the schalk schyndered
the bones,
And schrank thur3 the schuire grece, and
schade hit in twynne,
That the bit of the broun stel bot on the
grounde.
The fayre hed fro the halce hit to the
erthe,
that fele hit foyned wyth her fete, there
hit forth roled;
the blod brayd fro the body, that blykked
on the grene...
(ed. J.R.R. Tolkien and E.V. Gordon,
revised by Norman Davis, Oxford, 1968, second edition (ll. 421-429)
To argue that the taste for violence displayed in Havelok
reflects a lower-class taste seems to have been at least partially provoked by
the common assumption that French texts were produced in thirteenth-century
England for members of the nobility and English texts for hoi polloi;
furthermore, the surviving earlier versions of the Havelock story are in
French, and they do not contain violence comparable to that found in the
English version(See the early part of L'Estoire des Engleis by Gaimar,
ed., Alexander Bell, Oxford, 1960, and Le Lai d'Haveloc le Danois, ed.
T.D. Hardy and C.T. Martin, London, 1888 (RS 91.1). However, neither language
nor class provides a reliable indicator of taste, as a brief look at
representations of brutality in historical works written for ecclesiastics and
aristocrats in the thirteenth century and earlier will demonstrate.
For example, a proposed model for the treacherous Godard, Simon
de Montfort was the subject of a Latin poem, composed neither by nor for peasants
or burghers. Predominantly trochaic, the poem dwells lovingly and rhythmically
on amputation and emasculation, fabricating for Baron Simon a martyr-like
death, partially derived from a tradition of holy violence that can be traced
at least as far back as Prudentius [See W.J. Henderson, "Violence in
Prudentius' Peristephanon, in Akroterion. 28 (1983) 84-92; and R.
Levine, "Prudentius's Romanus: the rhetorician as hero, martyr and
saint," forthcoming in Rhetorica 8 (1991)].
Salve, Symon Montis-fortis,
totius flos militiae,
duras poenas passus mortis,
protector gentis Angliae.
sunt de sanctis inaudita,
cunctis passis in hac vita,
quemquam passum talia;
manus, pedes amputari,
caput, corpus vulnerari,
abscidi virilia.
(As printed in F.J.E. Raby, Christian
Latin Poetry, Oxford, 1927, pp. 377-378)
Perhaps the meter and rhyme dilute the horror of the act being
described, as Wordsworth suggests when he speaks of the pharmakon of
verse in the "Preface to the Lyrical Ballads":
... from the tendency of meter to divest
language in a certain degree of its reality, and thus to throw a sort of half
consciousness of unsubstantial existence over the whole composition, there can
be little doubt but that more pathetic situations and sentiments, that is,
those which have a greater proportion of pain connected with them, may be
endured in metrical composition, especially in rhythm, than in prose (William
Wordsworth: The Poems, ed. John O. Hayden, New Haven, 1977, p. 885)
Nevertheless, meter and rhyme are present in Havelok too.
Less stylized, and in prose, the representation of the death of
Simon de Montfort in Les Grandes Chroniques, a work composed by a late
thirteenth-century ecclesiastic for aristocrats (See Gabrielle Spiegel, The
Chronicle Tradition of Saint-Denis, Brookline, 1978), offers the same
details:
Aucun de la partie Odouart furent plain de
si grant felonnie et orent en si grant haine le conte Symon, qu'il ne leur
souffist pas de ce qu'il avoient ocis de pluseurs plaies, quar il firent pis,
quar il li esrachierent les genitaires du cors, et puis le despecierent par
pieces et lessierent le cors tout descouvert pour devourer aus oisiaus du ciel
(ed. by Jules Viard. Paris, 1920-53, 10 volumes; vol. 6, p. 223).
The present state of literary criticism offers no tools that
enable us to determine whether the representation of death and dismemberment is
more or less bearable in Primat's prose than it is in Middle English or
Medieval Latin verse.
Although he had a courtly audience in mind for his late 13th-century
laisses, Pierre Langtoft's description of the capture and execution of Wallace
offers graphic detail that competes well with scenes in Havelok:
Avalez est de fourches, et ouvert les
ventrouns,
Le quoer et la bowel brullez en carbouns,
Et cope la teste...
Cope li fust le cors en quatre porciouns;
Chescun pende par say, en memor de ses
nouns,
en lu de sa banere cels sunt ces
gunfanouns.
(Pierre de Langtoft, Chronicle., RS
47 (1,2), ed. Thomas Wright, 1866)
Since distinguishing between representations of violence on the
basis of social class does not seem possible in these passages, Derek
Pearsall's suggestion that although Havelok offers "the genuine expression
of popular consciousness," ("The Development of Middle English
Romance," Medieval Studies 27 (1965) 91-116: p. 98) nevertheless,
"the idea that a popular audience must of necessity be a crude one"
is "nonsense," seems compelling (Ibid., p. 106). As J. Weiss
has demonstrated, "The writer of Havelok, judging by his exuberant
use of every kind of rhetorical device, was a consciously literary man"
(Weiss, J., "Structure and characterisation in Havelok," Speculum
4 (1969), pp. 247-57; p. 257. See also G.V. Smithers, "The Style of
Havelock," Medium Aevum. LVII (1988), pp. 190-218, for the striking
examples in the Middle English poem of the style of medieval epic, as well as
of the schemes and tropes recommended by medieval Latin rhetorical manuals).
David Staines also regards the writer of Havelok as a
consciously literary man, but his attempt to harmonize the implied political
agenda of the poem with its popular appeal leads to some difficulties (David
Staines, "Havelok the Dane: a Thirteenth-Century Handbook for
Princes," Speculum 51 (1976) 602-623) Arguing that the poem is a speculum
principis, Staines first asserts that John of Salisbury and the lower
classes had an affinity for each other: "The lower-class attitude to the
monarchy, shaped by the general medieval concept of the true prince, finds full
expression in John of Salisbury's Policraticus." Ibid, p.
613. He goes on to insist that the lower classes had more to lose at the hands
of a tyrant than the barons did:
Though the barons might well support John
of Salisbury's arguments in favor of tyrannicide, the lower classes, the audience
of the English romance, would tend to hate the possibility of tyrannicide
which, for them would mean further civil disruption. Ibid. p. 615
During the middle ages, the nobility and the lower classes
certainly found themselves from time to time on the same side, sometimes in
opposition to the king, sometimes in opposition to ecclesiastical authority,
but which group was more strongly committed to its position seems a moot
question.
It would be more useful to ask who was interested in producing
and distributing "peasant fantasies." Often enough during the middle
ages, aristocrats and ecclesiastics were both suppliers and consumers of such
stories. For example, in the sixth-century, Gregory of Tours, both prelate and
patrician, tells the story of a peasant who kills two soldiers of indeterminate
rank, thereby saving mules belonging to the church of Saint Martin of Tours
[ed. B. Krusch, MGH, Scriptores Rerum Merovingicarum, vol. 2, Hanover,
1888, VII.21]. From the perspective of an aristocratic ecclesiastic, then, a vilain
is virtuous when he saves the priest from the warrior. In a tale told by
Richer, a late tenth-century Carolingian partisan, and ruthless fabricator of argumenta
if not fabula, [Isidore of Seville (I.XLIV.5) provides the following
distinction among these terms:
Nam historiae sunt res verae quae factae
sunt; argumenta sunt quae etsi facta non sunt, fieri tamen possunt; fabulae
vero sunt quae nec factae sunt nec fieri possunt; quia contra naturam sunt.]
Ingo, king Odo's standard-bearer, and a mere mediocris,
helps the king win a battle against the pirates. However, when the pirate
leader undergoes what seems to be a hypocritical baptism, Ingo kills him,
bringing upon himself the wrath of the king [Richer, Historia, ed. by
Robert Latouche, Paris 1930, vol. 1, pp. 26ff].
The humble agaso promptly proceeds to defend himself
successfully, incidentally producing a defense that follows the rules for conquestio
as described in the rhetorical manuals [See Hans-Henning Kort~m, Richer von
Saint-Remi, Stuttgart, 1985, pp. 99-101]. Rewarded with a title, land and a
wife, Ingo unfortunately dies soon after his gentrification, of a disease
described with elaborate, and apparently professional competence, by Richer.
In the twelfth century, Frederick Barbarossa' uncle, Otto of
Freising, tells the story of a common soldier, a strator, who climbs the
citadel of a besieged town, fights heroically, escapes from the enemy, and
spurns promotion.[The Deeds of Frederick Barbarossa, MGH XX, Hanover, 1868,
400-401 (pp.136-137 of C.C. Mierow's translation NY 1953)]. Neither Gregory nor
Otto shows signs in his work of sympathy for the lower classes. Both, however,
were engaged in factional disputes among aristocrats and ecclesiastics.
Encomium of the lower-class occasionally results in rhetorically
elaborate routines. In one of the most vividly imagined scenes in Graindour de
Douai's late twelfth-century Chanson d'Antioche, the first Crusader to
climb Antioch's walls makes much of his social insignificance. When Robert of
Flanders swears by his wife and children to lead the climb, Fulker of Flanders
dramatically puts his hands on Robert, insisting on taking his place (ll.
6060ff.). When Robert again starts up the ladder, again Fulker holds him back,
pleading that,
on the basis of their differences in rank, fortune, domestic
responsibilities, and general significance, less will be lost:
"Sire Robert de Flandres, prudon, ne
t'esmarir,
Plus vaillans quens de toi ne puet armes
baillir,
Cou ert molt grans damages, s'il t'i
convient morir.
Car tu as molt grant terre, bels sire, a
mainbornir,
Si as fame et enfans, Dex te laist reveir!
De moi n'ert nus damages s'il m'i convient
morir,
Car jo n'ai que doner ne ne ruis nient
tolir.
Lai me monter premiers, el nom de Saint
Espir!
Se jo muir, moi qu'en caut! ce ert por Deu
servir!
Mil mellors a en l'ost et plus font a
cierir. [Chanson d'Antioche, ed. Suzanne Duparc-Quioc, Paris, 1977-78, ll.
6074-83]
Fulker is not only brave, but a fine Christian rhetorician,
imagining his ascent of the wall as an ascent to salvation:
Dex! si com ce est voirs et nos bien le
creon,
Si me laisies monter a me salvation
Et garissies Francois de mort et de prison,
Que nos puissons conquerre le vile et le
donjon.
(ll. 6123-26)
Fulker leads the Crusaders up and over the wall, asking for
nothing in return.
Praise of the lower classes often functions as blame of some
other group. In his Life of Saint Thomas, for example, Garnier de Pont
Saint Maxence finds Henry II's attempt to increase the nobility's power over
the church intolerable; the poet's rage leads him to compose a five-line stanza
of monorhymed hexameters
that looks like a radically democratic statement:
Fiz a vilain ne fust en nul liu ordenex
Sens l'asens sun seignur, de qui terre il
fust nez,
E deus a sun servise nus a tuz apelez!
Mielz valt fiz a vilain qui est prouz e
senez,
Que ne fait gentilz hum failliz e debutez.
[La vie de saint Thomas Becket,
ed. E. Walberg, Paris, 1964, ll. 2541-45].
Garnier's statement that a vilein is preferable to a
courtier is not a categorical statement of belief, but part of his argument
against infringement of ecclesiastical authority.
As part of his extensive diatribe against the behavior of
courtiers at the end of the twelfth and the beginning of the thirteenth
centuries, Walter Map portrays Earl Godwin as a late tenth-century shepherd's
son, whose looks and behavior please King Edward so much that the king takes
him to court with him
and eventually honors him above all others. Godwin's prodigal
hospitality in his peasant's hut resembles that of Grim and his sons, though
Godwin out-does them (as well as his own parents' wishes):
Pater suus unam iubet parari gallinam; ille
statim tres igni apponit.
Pater unum salsi proci frustum oleribus
apponi; ille tria properanter
adicit, et preter matris et patris adibet
conscienciam nefrendem, id est
adolescentem et virginem suem.
His father bade him get ready one chicken;
he at once set three to
roast. The father bade serve done piece of
salt pork, and cabbage;
he hastily added three, and without
consulting his mother or father,
served up a suckling pig, that is, a young
sow [Walter Map, De Nugis Curialium, ed. and translated by M.R. James,
revised by C.N.L. Brooke and
R.A.B. Mynors, Oxford, 1983, pp. 414-415].
Havelok and Goldboru receive similarly prodigal peasant
hospitality when they arrive at the home of Grim's sons:
Ne was ther spared gos ne henne,
Ne the hende ne the drake:
Mete he deden plente make;
Ne wanted there no god mete,
Wyn and ale deden he fet,
And hem made glade and blitthe:
Weseyl ledden he fele sithe. (ll. 1241-47)
Walter Map, however, goes on to make an explicit contrast
between the behavior of Godwin and that of the nobility, to the detriment of
the nobility:
Quicquid enim affabilitatis, facecie,
largitatis, a quovis nobili vel
eciam regis filio solet aut iuste potest
expeti, totum omnibus
hilaritate plena bubulci filius exhibet.
Quod quidem eo videtur
mirabilius, quo contigit insperacius. Quis
enim rusticum rusticitatis
expertem crederet, et tanto virtutum odore
precluem?
For all the affability, courtesy,
liberality, that is or might reasonably be looked for at the hands of any
noble, nay, or king's son, this son of a herdsman showed to all in full measure
of open-heartedness. And this indeed seemed the more surprising in that it
happened the more against expectation. Who would suppose that a rustic could be
pure of rusticity and distinguished by such sweet perfume of virtues?
At this point Walter offers a far more complex analysis of
character than any that can be found in Havelok, or in romance
generally, revealing that Godwin was not a good man, then modulating into a defense
of the principle of nobility, though still unable to suppress his admiration of
parts of Godwin's character.
Characteristically, however, praise of the lower class is
confined to those who perform well and without social ambition. Sometimes the
virtuous vilain is rewarded, as in Havelok, sometimes he is not. As the
examples above suggest, the myth of the virtuous vilain is often
fabricated to register the indignation of an ecclesiastic against aristocrats,
or of one faction of aristocrats against another. [For the classical model for
attacking nobility of birth, see the speech Sallust composes for Marius in the Bellum
Jugurthinum. Sallust, ed. J.C. Rolfe, London, 1965, p.314. As Ronald Syme
points out, however, Sallust despised both the nobiles and the
"people." Sallust, Berkeley, 1964, pp. 251-251]. Chaucer shows some
awareness of this technique in his portrayal of Griselda in the "Clerks
Tale," and in the speech that Alice of Bath provides the old hag in the
"Wife of Bath's Tale." Her ability to recall Cacciaguida's
denunciation of nobility of blood in Dante's Paradiso is part of
Chaucer's attempt to characterize another of his tellers in the Canterbury
Tales, as well as to play one of many variations on the theme of
"gentilesse" that can be found throughout the Tales. A lower
middle-class social climber, she deliberately and blatantly puts the
aristocratic Dante's attack on an opposing faction of aristocrats into the
mouth of the spokesman of her own fantasies, the old crone. [The topic of
natural nobility also appealed to John Gower, in Confessio Amantis IV,
ll.2204 ff.] In addition, G.M. Vogt provides more than 30 examples of passages
from
medieval texts in which nobility of blood is denounced, without
revolutionary implications or intentions. ["Gleanings for the History of
Sentiment: Generositas Virtus non Sanguis," JEGP 24 (1925), pp.
102-23. For other exercises on the topic of natural nobility, see E.R. Curtius,
European Literature and the Latin Middle Ages, New York, 1963, pp.
179-80.
Havlock is not as complex a poem as
the one fabricated by Chaucer for Alice of Bath, nor can it match the dark
ironies of Walter Map's De Nugis Curialium. Nevertheless it reflects the
concerns of a relatively broad social spectrum, constantly appealing to all
social classes and roles, as A.C. Spearing indicates when he speaks of the
"social inclusiveness" of the poem [Readings in Medieval Poetry,
Cambridge, 1987, p.53].
The most obvious example of this inclusiveness is the poet's
reliance, or insistence, upon the degree to which all social classes
participate in the action. Early in Havelok, the poet extolls the
universal appeal of Goldboru's father Aethelwold:
Hym lovede ung, him lovede holde,
Erl and barun, dreng and tayn,
Knict, bondeman, and swain,
Wydues, maydenes, prestes and clerks...
(ll. 30-33)
When Aethelwold dies, earl Godric's activities are listed in
comprehensive, specific political, administrative detail:
Thanne he havede taken this oth
Of erles, baruns, lef and loth,
Of knictes, cherles, fre, and thewe,
Iustices dede he maken newe,
Al Engelond to faren thorw,
Fro Dovere into Rokesborw.
Schireves he sette, bedels and greyves,
Grith-sergeans, with longe gleyves,
To yemen wilde wodes and pathes
Fro wicke men, that wolde don scathes...
(ll. 260-269)
Goldboru's hortatory remarks to Havelok show the same rhetorical
habit at work:
To the shole comen heye and lowe,
And alle that in Denemark wone,
Em and brother, fader and sone,
Erl and baroun, dreng an thayn,
Knithes and burgeus and sweyn... (ll.
1325-29)
The most specifically political use of this habit occurs when
the verdict against Godard is pronounced in front of, and significantly by
representatives from all levels of society:
The king dede Ubbe swithe calle
Hise erles and hise barouns alle,
Dreng and thein, burgeis and knith,
And bad he sholden demen him rith ...
He setten hem dun bi the wawe,
Riche and povere, heye and lowe,
The helde men, and ek the grom,
And made ther the rithe dom...
"We deme that he be al quic
flawen..."
(ll. 2285-88; 2291-94; 2297)
The openly determined decision suggests that the ideal ruler in
the ideal state clearly avoids what would later in English history be labeled
Star Chamber proceedings.
The Havelok-poet's tendency to list specific classes in an
attempt to provide a comprehensive glimpse of historical reality resembles that
of poet-historians. Pierre de Langtoft, for example, in describing the
coronation of William the Conqueror, provides such a series:
A Loundres, ad Noel, veent of graunt
baudour
Le duk de Normendue, William le Conquerour;
Counte, duk, baroun, chuvaler, vavasour,
Cytayn et burgays, sergaunt, gardayn de
thour,
A ly sunt venuz cum @ lur seygnur.
Pierre de Langtoft, Chronicle, RS 47
(1,2), ed. Thomas Wright, 1866.
Written for an audience for whom power was both a possibility
and a habit, for whom John of Salisbury's ideas had some appeal, for whom
violence was not confined to the world of stylized art, but was a fact of everyday
historical reality, Havelok lays the responsibility for horror where it
belonged in the thirteenth century, with the aristocrats. Like Sir Walter Scott
(as Georg Lukacs describes him), the poet of Havelok is able to turn
into poetry "the repellently brutal sides of aristocratic rule," as
well as, "the life of the serfs and the free peasants." [Georg
Lukacs, The Historical Novel, Boston, 1963, pp. 55-56.
For a similar perception, see John Gillingham, "War and
Chivalry in the History of William the Marshal," in Thirteenth Century
England, ed. P.R. Coss and S.D. Lloyd, Woodbridge, 1987, pp. 1-13.
After this paper was published, John Finlayson, "King Horn
and Havelok the Dane: A Case of Mistaken Identities," Medievalia et
Humanistica 18 (1992), pp. 17-45.