AFTER COMPLINE
In which they visit the labyrinth1 again, reach the threshold of the finis Africae, but cannot enter because they do not know what the first and seventh of the four are, and, finally, Adso has a recurrence2, though a very erudite one, of his love malady3.
The visit to the library cost us long hours of work. Described in words, the verification we aimed to carry out was simple, but our progress by lamplight as we read the legends, marked the passages and the blank walls on the map, recorded the initials, followed the various routes that the play of openings and obstacles allowed us, was very long. And tedious.
It was bitter cold. The night was not windy and we did not hear those faint whistlings that had upset us the first evening, but a damp, icy air entered from the arrow slits6. We had put on woolen7 gloves so as to be able to touch the volumes without having our hands become numb8. But they were the kind used for writing in winter, the fingertips left bare, and sometimes we had to hold our hands to the flame or put them against our chests or clap them as we hopped9 about, half frozen.
For this reason we didn’t perform the whole task consecutively11. We stopped to browse12 in the cases, and now that William—with his new glasses on his nose—could linger and read the books, at every title he discovered he let out exclamations13 of happiness, either because he knew the work, or because he had been seeking it for a long time, or finally because he had never heard it mentioned and was highly excited and titillated14. In short, for him every book was like a fabu?lous animal that he was meeting in a strange land. And as he leafed through one manuscript, he ordered me to look for others.
“See what’s in that case!”
And I, deciphering and shifting volumes, said, “Histories anglorum of Bede ... And also by Bede, De aedificatione templi, De tabernaculo, De temparibus et computo et chronica et circuli Dionysi, Ortographia, De ratione metrorum, Vita Sancti Cuthberti, Ars metrica …”
“Naturally, the complete works of the Venerable ... And look at these! De rhetorica cognatione, Locorum rhetoricorum distinctio, and here many grammarians, Priscian, Honora?tus, Donatus, Maximus, Victorinus, Eutiches, Phocas, Asper … Odd, I thought at first that here there were authors from Anglia. ... Let us look below. …”
“Hisperica ... famines. What is that?”
“A Hibernian poem. Listen:
Hoc spumans mundanas obvallat Pelagus oras
terrestres amniosis fluctibus cudit margines.
Saxeas undosis molibus irruit avionias.
Infama bomboso vertice miscet glareas
asprifero spergit spumas sulco,
sonoreis frequentur quatitur labras. ...”
I didn’t understand the meaning, but as William read he rolled the words in his mouth so that you seemed to hear the sound of the waves and the sea foam16.
“And this? Aldhelm of Malmesbury. Listen to this page: ‘Primitus pantorum procerum poematorum pio potissimum paternoque presertim privilegio panegiricum poemataque passim prosatori sub polo promulgates17.’ ... The words all begin with the same letter!”
“The men of my islands are all a bit mad,” William said proudly. “Let us look in the other case.”
“Virgil.”
“What is he doing here? What Virgil? The Georgics?”
“No. Epitomae. I’ve never heard of it.”
“But it’s Virgil of Toulouse, the rhetorician, six centu?ries after the birth of our Lord. He was considered great sage5. ...”
“Here it says that the arts are poema, rethoria, grama, leporia, dialecta, geometria. … But what language was he writing?”
“Latin. A Latin of his own invention, however, which he considered far more beautiful. Read this; he says that astronomy studies the signs of the zodiac, which are mon, man, tonte, piron, dameth, perfellea, belgalic, margaleth, lutamiron, taminon, and raphalut.”
“Was he crazy?”
“I don’t know: he didn’t come from my islands. And listen to this; he says there are twelve ways of designat?ing fire: ignis, coquihabin (quia incocta coquendi habet dictionem), ardo, calax ex calore, fragon ex fragore flammae, rusin de rubore, fumaton, ustrax de urendo, vitius quia pene mortua membra suo vivificat, siluleus, quod de silice siliat, unde et silex non recte dicitur, nisi ex qua scintilla18 silit. And aeneon, de Aenea deo, qua in eo habitat, sive a quo elementis flatus fertur.”
“But there’s no one who speaks like that!”
“Happily. But those were times when, to forget an evil world, grammarians took pleasure in abstruse19 questions. I was told that in that period, for fifteen days and fifteen nights, the rhetoricians Gabundus and Terentius argued on the vocative of ‘ego,’ and in the end they attacked each other, with weapons.”
“But this, too. Listen. ...” I had grasped a book marvelously illuminated20 with vegetable labyrinths21 from which monkeys and serpents peered out. “Listen to these words: cantamen, collamen, gongelamen, stemia?men, plasmamem, sonerus, alboreus, gaudifluus, glauci?comus. …”
“My islands,” William said again, with tenderness. “Don’t be too harsh with those monks23 of far-off Hibernia. Perhaps, if this abbey exists and if we still speak of the Holy Roman Empire, we owe it to them. At that time, the rest of Europe was reduced to a heap of ruins; one day they declared invalid24 all baptisms imparted by certain priests in Gaul because they baptized “in nomine patris et filiae’—and not because they practiced a new heresy25 and considered Jesus a woman, but because they no longer knew any Latin.”
“Like Salvatore?”
“More or less. Vikings from the Far North came down along the rivers to sack Rome. The pagan tem?ples were falling in ruins, and the Christian26 ones did not yet exist. It was only the monks of Hibernia in their monasteries27 who wrote and read, read and wrote, and illuminated, and then jumped into little boats made of animal hide and navigated28 toward these lands and evangelized them as if you people were infidels, you understand? You have been to Bobbio, which was founded by Saint Columba, one of them. And so never mind if they invented a new Latin, seeing that in Europe no one knew the old Latin any more. They were great men. Saint Brendan reached the Isles29 of the Blest and sailed along the coasts of hell, where he saw Judas chained to a rock, and one day he landed on an island and went ashore30 there and found a sea monster. Natu?rally they were all mad,” he repeated contentedly31.
“These images are ... I can hardly believe my eyes! So many colors!” I said, drinking it all in.
“From a land that doesn’t have many colors, a bit of blue and much green. But we mustn’t stand here discussing Hibernian monks. What I want to know is why they are here with the Anglians and with grammari?ans of other countries. Look at your chart; where should we be?”
“In the rooms of the west tower. I’ve copied down the scrolls32, too. So, then, leaving the blind room, we enter the heptagonal room, and there is only one passage to a single room of the tower; the letter in red is H. Then we go from room to room, moving around the tower, and we return to the blind room. The sequence of the letters spells ... you are right! HIBERNI!”
“HIBERNIA, if we come from the blind room back into the heptagonal, which, like all the others, has the letter A for Apocalypsis. So there are the works of the authors of Ultima Thule, and also the grammarians and rhetori?cians, because the men who arranged the library thought that a grammarian should remain with the Hibernian grammarians, even if he came from Toulouse. It is a criterion. You see? We are beginning to understand something.”
“But in the rooms of the east tower, where we came in, we read FONS. … What does that mean?”
“Read your map carefully. Keep reading the letters of the rooms that follow, in order of access.”
“FONS ADAEU …”
“No, Fons Adae; the U is the second east blind room, I remember it; perhaps it fits into another sequence. And what did we find in the Fons Adae, that is, in the earthly paradise (remember that the room with the altar acing33 the rising sun is there)?”
“There were many Bibles there, and commentaries on the Bible, only books of Holy Scripture34.”
“And so, you see, the word of God corresponding to the earthly paradise, which as all say is far off to the east. And here, to the west: Hibernia.”
“So the plan of the library reproduces the map of the world?”
“That’s probable. And the books are arranged accord?ing to the country of their origin, or the place where their authors were born, or, as in this instance, the place where they should have been born. The librarians told themselves Virgil the grammarian was born in Toulouse by mistake; he should have been born in the western islands. They corrected the errors of nature.”
We resumed our way. We passed through a series of rooms rich in splendid Apocalypses, and one of these was the room where I had had visions. Indeed, we saw the light again from afar. William held his nose and ran to put it out, spitting on the ash. To be on the safe side, we hurried through the room, but I recalled that I had seen there the beautiful, many-colored Apocalypse with the mulier amicta sole and the dragon. We recon?structed the sequence of these rooms, starting from the one we entered last, which had Y as its red initial. Reading backward gave us the word YSPANIA, but its final A was also the one that concluded HIBERNIA. A sign, William said, that there were some rooms in which works of mixed nature were housed.
In any case, the area denominated YSPANIA seemed to us populated with many codices of the Apocalypse, all splendidly made, which William recognized as Hispanic art. We perceived that the library had perhaps the largest collection of copies of the apostle’s book extant in Christendom, and an immense quantity of commen?taries on the text. Enormous volumes were devoted35 to the commentary of the Apocalypse by Beatus of Liébana. The text was more or less always the same, but we found a rich, fantastic variation in the images, and William recognized some of those he considered among the greatest illuminators of the realm of the Asturias: Magius, Facundus, and others.
As we made these and other observations, we arrived at the south tower, which we had already approached the night before. The S room of Yspania—windowless?—led into an E room, and after we gradually went around the five rooms of the tower, we came to the last, without other passages, which bore a red L. Again reading backward, we found LEONES.
“Leones: south. On our map we are in Africa, hic sunt leones. And this explains why the have found so many texts by infidel authors.”
“And there are more,” I said, rummaging36 in the cases. “Canon of Avicenna, and this codex with the beautiful calligraphy37 I don’t recognize ...”
“From the decorations I would say it is a Koran, but unfortunately I have no Arabic.”
“The Koran, the Bible of the infidels, a perverse38 book …”
“A book containing a wisdom different from ours. But you understand why they put it here, where the lions, the monsters, are. This is why we saw that book on the monstrous39 animals, where you also found the unicorn40. This area called LEONES contains the books that the creators of the library considered books of falsehood. What’s over there?”
“They’re in Latin, but from the Arabic. Ayyub al?-Ruhawi, a treatise41 on canine42 hydrophobia. And this is a book of treasures. And this is De aspectibus of Alhazen ...”
“You see, among monsters and falsehoods they have also placed works of science from which Christians43 have much to learn. That was the way they thought in the times when the library was built. ...”
“But why have they also put a book with the unicorn among the falsehoods?” I asked.
“Obviously the founders44 of the library had strange ideas. They must have believed that this book which speaks of fantastic animals and beasts living in distant lands was part of the catalogue of falsehoods spread by the infidels. ...”
“But is the unicorn a falsehood? It’s the sweetest of animals and a noble symbol. It stands for Christ, and for chastity; it can be captured only by setting a virgin45 in the forest, so that the animal, catching46 her most chaste47 odor, will go and lay its head in her lap, offering itself as prey48 to the hunters’ snares49.”
“So it is said, Adso. But many tend to believe that it’s a fable50, an invention of the pagans.”
“What a disappointment,” I said. “I would have liked to encounter one, crossing a wood. Otherwise what’s the pleasure of crossing a wood?”
“It’s not certain the animal doesn’t exist. Perhaps it’s different from the way it’s illustrated51 in these books. A Venetian traveler went to very distant lands, quite close to the fons paradisi of which maps tell, and he saw unicorns53. But he found them rough and clumsy, and very ugly and black. I believe he saw a real animal with one horn on its brow. It was probably the same animal the ancient masters first described faithfully. They were never completely mistaken, and had received from God the opportunity to see things we haven’t seen. Then this description, passing from auctoritas to auctoritas, was transformed through successive imaginative exercises, and unicorns became fanciful animals, white and gentle. So if you hear there’s a unicorn in a wood, don’t go there with a virgin: the animal might resemble more closely the Venetian’s account than the description in this book.”
“But did the ancient masters happen to receive from God the revelation of the unicorn’s true nature?”
“Not the revelation: the experience. They were fortu?nate enough to be born in lands where unicorns live, or in times when unicorns lived in our own lands.”
“But then how can we trust ancient wisdom, whose traces you are always seeking, if it is handed down by lying books that have interpreted it with such license54?”
“Books are not made to be believed, but to be subjected to inquiry55. When we consider a book, we mustn’t ask ourselves what it says but what it means, a precept56 that the commentators57 of the holy books had very clearly in mind. The unicorn, as these books speak of him, embodies58 a moral truth, or allegorical, or analogical, but one that remains60 true, as the idea that chastity is a noble virtue61 remains true. But as for the literal truth that sustains the other three truths, we have yet to see what original experience gave birth to the letter. The literal object must be discussed, even if its higher mean?ing remains good. In a book it is written that diamond can be cut only with a billy goat’s blood. My great master Roger Bacon said it was not true, simply be?cause he had tried and had failed. But if the relation between a diamond and goat’s blood had had a nobler meaning, that would have remained intact.”
“Then higher truths can be expressed while the letter is lying,” I said. “Still, it grieves me to think this unicorn doesn’t exist, or never existed, or cannot exist one day.”
“It is not licit to impose confines on divine omnipotence62, and if God so willed, unicorns could also exist. But console yourself, they exist in these books, which, if they do not speak of real existence, speak of possible existence.”
“So must we then read books without faith, which is a theological virtue?”
“There are two other theological virtues63 as well. The hope that the possible is. And charity, toward those who believed in good faith that the possible was.”
“But what use is the unicorn to you if your intellect doesn’t believe in it?”
“It is of use to me as Venantius’s prints in the snow were of use, after he was dragged to the pigs’ tub. The unicorn of the books is like a print. If the print exists, there must have existed something whose print it is.”
“But different from the print, you say.”
“Of course. The print does not always have the same shape as the body that impressed it, and it doesn’t always derive64 from the pressure of a body. At times it reproduces the impression a body has left in our mind: it is the print of an idea. The idea is sign of things, and the image is sign of the idea, sign of a sign. But from the image I reconstruct, if not the body, the idea that others had of it.”
“And this is enough for you?”
“No, because true learning must not be content with ideas, which are, in fact, signs, but must discover things in their individual truth. And so I would like to go back from this print of a print to the individual unicorn that stands at the beginning of the chain. As I would like to go back from the vague signs left by Venantius’s mur?derer (signs that could refer to many) to a sole individual, the murderer himself. But it isn’t always possible in a short time, and without the help of other signs.”
“Then I can always and only speak of something that speaks to me of something else, and so on. But the final something, the true one—does that never exist?”
“Perhaps it does: it is the individual unicorn. And don’t worry: one of these days you will encounter it, however black and ugly it may be.”
“Unicorns, lions, Arab authors, and Moors65 in general,” I said at that point, “no doubt this is the Africa of which the monks spoke66.”
“No doubt this is it. And if it is, we should find the African poets mentioned by Pacificus of Tivoli.”
And, in fact, when we had retraced67 our steps and were in room L again, we found in a case a collection of books by Floro, Fronto, Apuleius, Martianus Capella, and Fulgentius.
“So this is where Berengar said the explanations of a certain secret should be,” I said.
“Almost here. He used the expression ‘finis Africae,’ and this was the expression that so infuriated Malachi. The finis could be this last room, unless ...” He cried out: “By the seven churches of Clonmacnois! Haven’t you noticed something?”
“What?”
“Let’s go back to room S, where we started!”
We went back to the first blind room, where the verse read “Super thronos viginti quatuor.” It had four openings. One led to room Y, which had a window on the inner octagon. Another led to room P, which continued, along the outside fa?ade, the YSPANIA se?quence. The opening toward the tower led into room E, which we had just come through. Then there was a blank wall, and finally an opening that led into a second blind room with the initial U. Room S was the one with the mirror—luckily on the wall immediately to my right, or I would have been seized with fear again.
Looking carefully at my map, I realized the singulari?ty of this room. Like the other blind rooms of the other tree towers, it should have led to the central heptagonal room. If it didn’t, the entrance to the heptagon would have to be in the adjacent blind room, the U. But this room, which through one opening led into a room T with a window on the octagon, and through another was connected to room S, had the other three walls full, occupied with cases. Looking around, we confirmed what was now obvious from the map: for reasons of logic59 as well as strict symmetry, that tower should have had its heptagonal room, but there was none.
“None,” I said. “There’s no such room.”
“No, that’s not it. If there were no heptagon, the other rooms would be larger, whereas they are more or less the shape of those at the other extremes. The room exists, but cannot be reached.”
“Is it walled up?”
“Probably. And there is the finis Africae, there is the place that lose monks who are now dead were hovering69 about, in their curiosity. It’s walled up, but that does not mean there is no access. Indeed, there surely is one, and Venantius found it, or was given its descrip?tion by Adelmo, who had it from Berengar. Let’s read his notes again.”
He took Venantius’s paper from his habit and reread it: “The hand over the idol70 works on the first and the seventh of the four.” He looked around. “Why, of course! The ‘idolum’ is the image in the mirror! Venantius was thinking in Greek, and in that tongue, even more than in ours, ‘eidolon’ is image as well as ghost, and the mirror reflects our own image, distorted; we ourselves mistook it for a ghost the other night! But what, then, can be the four ‘supra idolum’? Something over the reflecting surface? Then we must place ourselves at a certain angle in order to perceive something reflected in the mirror that corresponds to Venantius’s descrip?tion. …”
We tried every position, but with no result. Besides our images, the mirror reflected only hazy71 outlines of the rest of the room, dimly illuminated by the lamp.
“Then,” William meditated72, “by ‘supra idolum’ he could mean beyond the mirror ... which would oblige us to go into the next room, for surely this mirror is a door. ...”
The mirror was taller than a normal man, fixed73 to the wall by a sturdy oak frame. We touched it in every manner, we tried to thrust our fingers into it, our nails between the frame and the wall, but the mirror was as fast as if it were part of the wall, a stone among stones.
“And if not beyond, it could be ‘super idolum,’ ” William murmured, and meanwhile raised his arm, stood on tiptoe, and ran his hand along the upper edge of the frame. He found nothing but dust.
“For that matter,” William reflected gloomily, “even if beyond it there were a room, the book we are seeking and the others sought is no longer in that room, because it was taken away, first by Venantius and then, God knows where, by Berengar.”
“But perhaps Berengar brought it back here.”
No, that evening we were in the library, and every?thing suggests he died not long after the theft, that same night, in the balneary. Otherwise we would have seen him again the next morning. No matter ... For the present we have established where the finis Africae is and we have almost all the necessary information for perfecting our map of the library. You must admit that many of the labyrinth’s mysteries have now been clarified.”
We went through other rooms, recording74 all our discoveries on my map. We came upon rooms devoted solely75 to writings on mathematics and astronomy, oth?ers with works in Aramaic characters which neither of us knew, others in even less recognizable characters, perhaps texts from India. We moved between two overlapping76 sequences that said IUDAEA and AEGYPTUS. In short, not to bore the reader with the chroni?cle of our deciphering, when we later perfected the map definitively77 we were convinced that the library was truly laid out and arranged according to the image of the terraqueous orb78. To the north we found ANGLIA and GERMANI, which along the west wall were con10?nected by GALLIA, which turned then, at the extreme west, into HIBERNIA, and toward the south wall ROMA (paradise of Latin classics!) and YSPANIA. Then to the south came the LEONES and AEGYPTUS, which to the east became IUDAEA and FONS ADAE. Between east and north, along the wall, ACAIA, a good synecdoche, as William expressed it, to indicate Greece, and in those four rooms there was, finally, a great hoard79 of poets and philosophers of pagan antiquity80.
The system of words was eccentric. At times it proceeded in a single direction, at other times it went backward, at still others in a circle; often, as I said before, the same letter served to compose two different words (and in these instances the room had one case devoted to one subject and one to another). But obvi?ously there was no point looking for a golden rule in this arrangement. It was purely81 a mnemonic device to allow the librarian to find a given work. To say of a book that it was found in “quarta Acaiae” meant that it was in the fourth room counting from the one in which the initial A appeared, and then, to identify it, presum?ably the librarian knew by heart the route, circular or straight, that he should follow, as ACAIA was distribut?ed over four rooms arranged in a square. So we prompt?ly learned the game of the blank walls. For example, approaching ACAIA from the east, you found none of the rooms led to the following rooms: the labyrinth at this point ended, and to reach the north tower you had to pass through the other three. But naturally the librarians entered from the FONS, knowing perfectly82 well that to go, let us say, into ANGLIA, they had to pass through AEGYPTUS, YSPANIA, GALLIA, and GERMANI.
With these and other fine discoveries our fruitful explo?ration15 in the library ended. But before saying that we prepared, contentedly, to leave it (only to be involved in other events I will narrate83 shortly), I must make a con?fession to my reader. I said that our exploration was undertaken, originally, to seek the key to the myster?ious place but that, as we lingered along the way in the rooms we were marking down by subject and arrangement, we leafed through books of various kinds, as if we were exploring a mysterious continent or a terra incognita. And usually this second exploration pro4?ceeded by common accord, as William and I browsed84 through the same books, I pointing out the most curi?ous ones to him, and he explaining to me many things I was unable to understand.
But at a certain point, and just as we were moving around the rooms of the south tower, known as LEONES, my master happened to stop in a room rich in Arabic works with odd optical drawings; and since we were that evening provided not with one but with two lamps, I moved, in my curiosity, into the next room, realizing that the wisdom and the prudence85 of the library’s planning had assembled along one of its walls books that certainly could not be handed out to anyone to read, because they dealt in various ways with diseases of body and spirit and were almost always written by infidel scholars. And my eye fell on a book, not large but adorned86 with miniatures far removed (luckily!) from the subject: flowers, vines, animals in pairs, some medicinal herbs. The title was Speculum amoris, by Maximus of Bologna, and it included quotations87 from many other works, all on the malady of love. As the reader will understand, it did not require much once more to inflame88 my mind, which had been numb since morning, and to excite it again with the girl’s image.
All that day I had driven myself to dispel89 my morn?ing thoughts, repeating that they were not those of a sober, balanced novice90, and moreover, since the day’s events had been sufficiently91 rich and intense to distract me, my appetites had been dormant92, so that I thought I had freed myself by now from what had been but a passing restlessness. Instead, I had only to see that book and I was forced to say, “De te fabula narratur,” and I discovered I was more sick with love than I had believed. I learned later that, reading books of medicine, you are always convinced you feel the pains of which they speak. So it was that the mere93 reading of those pages, glanced at hastily in fear that William would enter the room and ask me what I was so diligently94 investigating, caused me to believe that I was suffering from that very disease, whose symptoms were so splendidly described that if, on the one hand, I was distressed95 to discover I was sick (and on the infallible evidence of so many auctoritates), on the other I re?joiced to see my own situation depicted96 so vividly97, convincing myself that even if I was ill, my illness was, so to speak, normal, inasmuch as countless98 others had suffered in the same way, and the quoted authors might have taken me personally as the model for their descriptions.
So I was moved by the pages of Ibn-Hazm, who defines love as a rebel illness whose treatment lies within itself, for the sick person does not want to be healed and he who is ill with it is reluctant to get well (and God knows this was true!). I realized why, that morning, I had been so stirred by everything I saw: it seems that love enters through the eyes, as Basil of Ancira also says, and—unmistakable symptom—he who is seized by such an illness displays an excessive gaiety, while he wishes at the same time to keep to himself and seeks solitude99 (as I had done that morning), while other phenomena100 affecting him are a violent restlessness and an awe101 that makes him speechless. ... I was fright?ened to read that the sincere lover, when denied the sight of the beloved object, must fall into a wasting state that often reaches the point of confining him to bed, and sometimes the malady overpowers the brain, and the subject loses his mind and raves102 (obviously I had not yet reached that phase, because I had been quite alert in the exploration of the library). But I read with apprehension103 that if the illness worsens, death can ensue, and I asked myself whether the joy I derived104 from thinking of the girl was worth this supreme105 sacri?fice of the body, apart from all due consideration of the soul’s health.
I learned, further, from some words of Saint Hildegard, that the melancholy106 humor I had felt during the day, which I attributed to a sweet feeling of pain at the girl’s absence, was perilously107 close to the feeling experienced by one who strays from the harmonious108 and perfect state man experiences in paradise, and this “nigra et amara” melancholy is produced by the breath of the serpent and the influence of the Devil. An idea shared also by infidels of equal wisdom, for my eyes fell on the lines attributed to Abu-Bakr Muhammad ibn-Zakariyya ar-Razi, who in a Liber continens identifies amorous109 melancholy with lycanthropy, which drives its victim to behave like a wolf. His description clutched at my throat: first the lovers seem changed in the external appearance, their eyesight weakens, their eyes become hollow and without tears, their tongue slowly dries up and pustules appear on it, the whole body is parched110 and they suffer constant thirst; at this point they spend the day lying face down, and on the face and the tibias marks like dog bites appear, and finally the victims roam through the cemeteries111 at night like wolves.
Finally, I had no more doubts as to the gravity of my situation when I read quotations from the great Avicenna, who defined love as an assiduous thought of a melan?choly nature, born as a result of one’s thinking again and again of the features, gestures, or behavior of a person of the opposite sex (with what vivid fidelity112 had Avicenna described my case!): it does not originate as an illness but is transformed into illness when, remaining unsatisfied, it becomes obsessive113 thought (and why did I feel so obsessed114, I who, God forgive me, had been well satisfied? Or was perhaps what had happened the previous night not satisfaction of love? But how is this illness satisfied, then?), and so there is an incessant115 flutter of the eyelids116, irregular respiration117; now the victim laughs, now weeps, and the pulse throbs118 (and indeed mine throbbed119, and my breathing stopped as I read those lines!). Avicenna advised an infallible meth?od already proposed by Galen for discovering whether someone is in love: grasp the wrist of the sufferer and utter many names of members of the opposite sex, until you discover which name makes the pulse accelerate. I was afraid my master would enter abruptly120, seize my arm, and observe in the throbbing121 of my veins122 my secret, of which I would have been greatly ashamed. ... Alas123, as remedy Avicenna suggested uniting the two lovers in matrimony, which would cure the illness. Truly he was an infidel, though a shrewd one, because he did not consider the condition of the Benedictine novice, thus condemned124 never to recover—or, rather, conse?crated125, through his own choice or the wise choice of his relatives, never to fall ill. Luckily Avicenna, though not thinking of the Cluniac order, did consider the case of lovers who cannot be joined, and advised as radical126 treatment hot baths. (Was Berengar trying to be healed of his lovesickness for the dead Adelmo? But could one suffer lovesickness for a being of one’s own sex, or was that only bestial127 lust52? And was the night I had spent perhaps not bestial and lustful128? No, of course not, I told myself at once, it was most sweet—and then im?mediately68 added: No, you are wrong, Adso, it was an illusion of the Devil, it was most bestial, and if you sinned in being a beast you sin all the more now in refusing to acknowledge it!) But then I read, again in Avicenna, that there were also other remedies: for example, enlisting129 the help of old and expert women who would spend their time denigrating130 the beloved?—and it seems that old women are more expert than men in this task. Perhaps this was the solution, but I could not find any old women at the abbey (or young ones, actually), and so I would have to ask some monk22 to speak ill to me of the girl, but who? And besides, could a monk know women as well as an old gossip would know them? The last solution suggested by the Saracen was truly immodest, for it required, the unhappy lover to couple with many slave girls, a remedy quite unsuit?able for a monk. And so, I asked myself finally, how can a young monk be healed of love? Is there truly no salvation131 for him? Should I perhaps turn to Severinus and his herbs? I did find a passage in Arnold of Villanova, an author I had heard William mention with great esteem132, who had it that lovesickness was born from an excess of humors and pneuma, when the human organism finds itself in an excess of dampness and heat, because the blood (which produces the gener?ative seed), increasing through excess, produces excess of seed, a “complexio venerea,” and an intense desire for union in man and woman. There is an estimative virtue situated133 in the dorsal134 part of the median ventri?cle of the encephalus (What is that? I wondered) whose purpose is to perceive the insensitive intentions per?ceived by the senses, and when desire for the object perceived by the senses becomes too strong, the estima?tive faculty135 is upset, and it feeds only on the phantom136 of the beloved person; then there is an inflammation of the whole soul and body, as sadness alternates with joy, because heat (which in moments of despair descends137 into the deepest parts of the body and chills the skin) in moments of joy rises to the surface, inflaming138 the face. The treatment suggested by Arnold consisted in trying to lose the assurance and the hope of reaching the beloved object, so that the thought would go away.
Why, in that case I am cured, or nearly cured, I said to myself, because I have little or no hope, of seeing the object of my thoughts again, and if I saw it, no hope of gaining it, and if I gained it, none of possessing it again, and if I possessed139 it, of keeping it near me, because of both my monkish140 state and the duties imposed on me by my family’s station. ... I am saved, I said to myself, and I closed the book and collected myself, just as William entered the room.
收听单词发音 |
1
labyrinth
|
|
| n.迷宫；难解的事物；迷路 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
2
recurrence
|
|
| n.复发，反复，重现 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
3
malady
|
|
| n.病，疾病(通常做比喻) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
4
pro
|
|
| n.赞成，赞成的意见，赞成者 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
5
sage
|
|
| n.圣人，哲人；adj.贤明的，明智的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
6
slits
|
|
| n.狭长的口子，裂缝( slit的名词复数 )v.切开，撕开( slit的第三人称单数 )；在…上开狭长口子 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
7
woolen
|
|
| adj.羊毛(制)的；毛纺的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
8
numb
|
|
| adj.麻木的，失去感觉的；v.使麻木 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
9
hopped
|
|
| 跳上[下]( hop的过去式和过去分词 )； 单足蹦跳； 齐足（或双足）跳行； 摘葎草花 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
10
con
|
|
| n.反对的观点，反对者，反对票，肺病；vt.精读，学习，默记；adv.反对地，从反面；adj.欺诈的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
11
consecutively
|
|
| adv.连续地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
12
browse
|
|
| vi.随意翻阅，浏览；(牛、羊等)吃草 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
13
exclamations
|
|
| n.呼喊( exclamation的名词复数 )；感叹；感叹语；感叹词 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
14
titillated
|
|
| v.使觉得痒( titillate的过去式和过去分词 )；逗引；激发；使高兴 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
15
ration
|
|
| n.定量(pl.)给养，口粮；vt.定量供应 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
16
foam
|
|
| v./n.泡沫，起泡沫 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
17
promulgates
|
|
| v.宣扬（某事物）( promulgate的第三人称单数 )；传播；公布；颁布（法令、新法律等） | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
18
scintilla
|
|
| n.极少，微粒 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
19
abstruse
|
|
| adj.深奥的，难解的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
20
illuminated
|
|
| adj.被照明的；受启迪的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
21
labyrinths
|
|
| 迷宫( labyrinth的名词复数 )； （文字，建筑）错综复杂的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
22
monk
|
|
| n.和尚，僧侣，修道士 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
23
monks
|
|
| n.修道士，僧侣( monk的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
24
invalid
|
|
| n.病人，伤残人；adj.有病的，伤残的；无效的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
25
heresy
|
|
| n.异端邪说；异教 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
26
Christian
|
|
| adj.基督教徒的；n.基督教徒 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
27
monasteries
|
|
| 修道院( monastery的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
28
navigated
|
|
| v.给（船舶、飞机等）引航，导航( navigate的过去式和过去分词 )；（从海上、空中等）横越；横渡；飞跃 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
29
isles
|
|
| 岛( isle的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
30
ashore
|
|
| adv.在(向)岸上，上岸 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
31
contentedly
|
|
| adv.心满意足地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
32
scrolls
|
|
| n.（常用于录写正式文件的）纸卷( scroll的名词复数 )；卷轴；涡卷形（装饰）；卷形花纹v.（电脑屏幕上）从上到下移动（资料等），卷页( scroll的第三人称单数 )；（似卷轴般）卷起；（像展开卷轴般地）将文字显示于屏幕 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
33
acing
|
|
| vt.发球得分（ace的现在分词形式） | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
34
scripture
|
|
| n.经文，圣书，手稿；Scripture:(常用复数)《圣经》，《圣经》中的一段 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
35
devoted
|
|
| adj.忠诚的，忠实的，热心的，献身于...的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
36
rummaging
|
|
| 翻找，搜寻( rummage的现在分词 )； 海关检查 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
37
calligraphy
|
|
| n.书法 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
38
perverse
|
|
| adj.刚愎的；坚持错误的，行为反常的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
39
monstrous
|
|
| adj.巨大的；恐怖的；可耻的，丢脸的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
40
unicorn
|
|
| n.(传说中的)独角兽 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
41
treatise
|
|
| n.专著；(专题)论文 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
42
canine
|
|
| adj.犬的，犬科的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
43
Christians
|
|
| n.基督教徒( Christian的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
44
founders
|
|
| n.创始人( founder的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
45
virgin
|
|
| n.处女，未婚女子；adj.未经使用的；未经开发的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
46
catching
|
|
| adj.易传染的，有魅力的，迷人的，接住 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
47
chaste
|
|
| adj.贞洁的；有道德的；善良的；简朴的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
48
prey
|
|
| n.被掠食者，牺牲者，掠食；v.捕食，掠夺，折磨 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
49
snares
|
|
| n.陷阱( snare的名词复数 )；圈套；诱人遭受失败（丢脸、损失等）的东西；诱惑物v.用罗网捕捉，诱陷，陷害( snare的第三人称单数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
50
fable
|
|
| n.寓言；童话；神话 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
51
illustrated
|
|
| adj. 有插图的，列举的 动词illustrate的过去式和过去分词 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
52
lust
|
|
| n.性(淫)欲；渴(欲)望；vi.对…有强烈的欲望 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
53
unicorns
|
|
| n.（传说中身体似马的）独角兽( unicorn的名词复数 )；一角鲸；独角兽标记 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
54
license
|
|
| n.执照，许可证，特许；v.许可，特许 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
55
inquiry
|
|
| n.打听，询问，调查，查问 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
56
precept
|
|
| n.戒律；格言 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
57
commentators
|
|
| n.评论员( commentator的名词复数 )；时事评论员；注释者；实况广播员 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
58
embodies
|
|
| v.表现( embody的第三人称单数 )；象征；包括；包含 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
59
logic
|
|
| n.逻辑(学)；逻辑性 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
60
remains
|
|
| n.剩余物，残留物；遗体，遗迹 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
61
virtue
|
|
| n.德行，美德；贞操；优点；功效，效力 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
62
omnipotence
|
|
| n.全能，万能，无限威力 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
63
virtues
|
|
| 美德( virtue的名词复数 )； 德行； 优点； 长处 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
64
derive
|
|
| v.取得；导出；引申；来自；源自；出自 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
65
moors
|
|
| v.停泊，系泊（船只）( moor的第三人称单数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
66
spoke
|
|
| n.（车轮的）辐条；轮辐；破坏某人的计划；阻挠某人的行动 v.讲，谈（speak的过去式）；说；演说；从某种观点来说 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
67
retraced
|
|
| v.折回( retrace的过去式和过去分词 )；回忆；回顾；追溯 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
68
mediately
|
|
| 在中间，间接 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
69
hovering
|
|
| 鸟( hover的现在分词 )； 靠近（某事物）； （人）徘徊； 犹豫 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
70
idol
|
|
| n.偶像，红人，宠儿 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
71
hazy
|
|
| adj.有薄雾的，朦胧的；不肯定的，模糊的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
72
meditated
|
|
| 深思，沉思，冥想( meditate的过去式和过去分词 )； 内心策划，考虑 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
73
fixed
|
|
| adj.固定的，不变的，准备好的；(计算机)固定的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
74
recording
|
|
| n.录音，记录 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
75
solely
|
|
| adv.仅仅，唯一地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
76
overlapping
|
|
| adj./n.交迭（的） | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
77
definitively
|
|
| adv.决定性地，最后地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
78
orb
|
|
| n.太阳；星球；v.弄圆；成球形 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
79
hoard
|
|
| n./v.窖藏，贮存，囤积 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
80
antiquity
|
|
| n.古老；高龄；古物，古迹 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
81
purely
|
|
| adv.纯粹地，完全地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
82
perfectly
|
|
| adv.完美地，无可非议地，彻底地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
83
narrate
|
|
| v.讲，叙述 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
84
browsed
|
|
| v.吃草( browse的过去式和过去分词 )；随意翻阅；（在商店里）随便看看；（在计算机上）浏览信息 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
85
prudence
|
|
| n.谨慎，精明，节俭 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
86
adorned
|
|
| [计]被修饰的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
87
quotations
|
|
| n.引用( quotation的名词复数 )；[商业]行情（报告）；（货物或股票的）市价；时价 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
88
inflame
|
|
| v.使燃烧；使极度激动；使发炎 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
89
dispel
|
|
| vt.驱走，驱散，消除 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
90
novice
|
|
| adj.新手的，生手的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
91
sufficiently
|
|
| adv.足够地，充分地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
92
dormant
|
|
| adj.暂停活动的；休眠的；潜伏的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
93
mere
|
|
| adj.纯粹的；仅仅，只不过 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
94
diligently
|
|
| ad.industriously;carefully | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
95
distressed
|
|
| 痛苦的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
96
depicted
|
|
| 描绘，描画( depict的过去式和过去分词 )； 描述 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
97
vividly
|
|
| adv.清楚地，鲜明地，生动地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
98
countless
|
|
| adj.无数的，多得不计其数的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
99
solitude
|
|
| n. 孤独; 独居,荒僻之地,幽静的地方 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
100
phenomena
|
|
| n.现象 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
101
awe
|
|
| n.敬畏，惊惧；vt.使敬畏，使惊惧 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
102
raves
|
|
| n.狂欢晚会( rave的名词复数 )v.胡言乱语( rave的第三人称单数 )；愤怒地说；咆哮；痴心地说 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
103
apprehension
|
|
| n.理解，领悟；逮捕，拘捕；忧虑 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
104
derived
|
|
| vi.起源；由来；衍生；导出v.得到( derive的过去式和过去分词 )；（从…中）得到获得；源于；（从…中）提取 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
105
supreme
|
|
| adj.极度的，最重要的；至高的，最高的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
106
melancholy
|
|
| n.忧郁，愁思；adj.令人感伤（沮丧）的，忧郁的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
107
perilously
|
|
| adv.充满危险地，危机四伏地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
108
harmonious
|
|
| adj.和睦的，调和的，和谐的，协调的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
109
amorous
|
|
| adj.多情的；有关爱情的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
110
parched
|
|
| adj.焦干的；极渴的；v.（使）焦干 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
111
cemeteries
|
|
| n.（非教堂的）墓地，公墓( cemetery的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
112
fidelity
|
|
| n.忠诚，忠实；精确 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
113
obsessive
|
|
| adj. 着迷的, 强迫性的, 分神的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
114
obsessed
|
|
| adj.心神不宁的,鬼迷心窍的,沉迷的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
115
incessant
|
|
| adj.不停的，连续的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
116
eyelids
|
|
| n.眼睑( eyelid的名词复数 )；眼睛也不眨一下；不露声色；面不改色 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
117
respiration
|
|
| n.呼吸作用；一次呼吸；植物光合作用 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
118
throbs
|
|
| 体内的跳动( throb的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
119
throbbed
|
|
| 抽痛( throb的过去式和过去分词 )； （心脏、脉搏等）跳动 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
120
abruptly
|
|
| adv.突然地，出其不意地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
121
throbbing
|
|
| a. 跳动的,悸动的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
122
veins
|
|
| n.纹理；矿脉( vein的名词复数 )；静脉；叶脉；纹理 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
123
alas
|
|
| int.唉(表示悲伤、忧愁、恐惧等) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
124
condemned
|
|
| adj. 被责难的, 被宣告有罪的 动词condemn的过去式和过去分词 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
125
crated
|
|
| 把…装入箱中( crate的过去式 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
126
radical
|
|
| n.激进份子，原子团，根号；adj.根本的，激进的，彻底的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
127
bestial
|
|
| adj.残忍的；野蛮的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
128
lustful
|
|
| a.贪婪的；渴望的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
129
enlisting
|
|
| v.（使）入伍， （使）参军( enlist的现在分词 )；获得（帮助或支持） | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
130
denigrating
|
|
| v.诋毁，诽谤( denigrate的现在分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
131
salvation
|
|
| n.（尤指基督）救世，超度，拯救，解困 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
132
esteem
|
|
| n.尊敬，尊重；vt.尊重，敬重；把…看作 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
133
situated
|
|
| adj.坐落在...的，处于某种境地的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
134
dorsal
|
|
| adj.背部的，背脊的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
135
faculty
|
|
| n.才能；学院，系；(学院或系的)全体教学人员 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
136
phantom
|
|
| n.幻影，虚位，幽灵；adj.错觉的，幻影的，幽灵的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
137
descends
|
|
| v.下来( descend的第三人称单数 )；下去；下降；下斜 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
138
inflaming
|
|
| v.（使）变红，发怒，过热( inflame的现在分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
139
possessed
|
|
| adj.疯狂的；拥有的，占有的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
140
monkish
|
|
| adj.僧侣的，修道士的，禁欲的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
| 欢迎访问英文小说网 |