Context and Complexity: Cats, Pigs, and Jews in Art and Literature

            Throughout the quarter, we have constantly been told and been saying that what we know or believe about medieval animals is much more complex than what one author or interpretation offers. At times, this response seems almost automatic – if an explanation doesn’t explain everything or contradicts another argument, then the disagreement is reconciled by a simple, “It’s really more complicated than that.” Even Prof. Fulton Brown today commented on how quickly we concluded that the use of animals for insult and disgust was a complex situation. I hope to make it apparent that “complexity” needs to be more than an automatic response to differing arguments; complexity must be discussed in the context of the scenario or argument presented. It is context and specificity that lead to and enhance complexity. I propose to make this point by discussing the arguments made by Alexandra Cuffel in “Sign of the Beast: Animal Metaphors as Maledictions of Resistance and Opposition” and in Sara Lipton’s “Jews, heretics, and the sign of the cat in the Bible moralisée.”

            In her chapter “Sign of the Beast,” Cuffel proposes that medieval Christians, Jews, and Muslims all used similar visual vocabulary when talking about each other, such as lions for Christians or donkeys for Jews. More importantly, when one group was negatively targeted in the guise of an animal (Jews and donkeys, for instance), some authors subverted the attack by playing up the positive qualities of animal assigned to their group while pointing out the negative qualities of animals the attacker identified with.[1] However, a potential point of criticism arises from Cuffel’s tendency to make sweeping conclusions about all Christians or Jews or Muslims based on the mass of evidence she has gathered. For example, Cuffel cites a bestiary that states the following: “Sows signify sinners, the unclean, and heretics,”[2] which she uses to equate Jews with pigs. It is problematic that her source does not explicitly list Jews in addition to sinners, the unclean, or heretics. She does later admit, “Muslims are not mentioned in the bestiary texts, although Christian hearers and readers could have substituted ‘Muslim’ for ‘heretic’ and made an indirect association with certain animals in that way.” This implies that the same substitution could be made for Jews, which is perhaps the route her train of thought took. But regardless of the semantic structure of her argument, the fact remains that Cuffel takes specific instances, such as pigs associated with sinfulness and heresy, and generalizes them, implying that pigs are always symbols of heretics and Jews. 

            What Cuffel should have done, and what Lipton does do, is focus on the specific context in which statements are made. Lipton’s article discusses a specific type of text, the bible moralisée, and specific images of cats and Jews within extant manuscripts of that text. She proposes that the image of humans kissing the anus of cats arises as a criticism of the teaching of Aristotle using Jewish commentaries in early 13^th century Paris.[3] Lipton does not make some broad claim, like any time a cat appears in medieval art it carries an association with heresy and Judaism, as Cuffel seems to do. She is careful to confine the feline-Jewish relation to the bible moralisée, and even goes so far as to connect the contents of the manuscripts to the political and academic situation that they were likely created in. She analyzes these images in a very specific context, and keeps her analysis only in that context.

            We can see why Lipton’s form of analysis is preferable to Cuffel’s when we consider other texts about medieval cats. Malcolm Jones, in “Cats and Cat-skinning in Late Medieval Art and Life,” discusses the use of cats for cheap fur, a topic he was led to by a Hieronymus Bosch painting. But in seeking to identify the man shown with a cat-skin in the painting, (which he names a “pedlar”[4]), Jones does not even consider that the man must represent some sort of Jew-hunter, because he has a cat skin and cats are symbols of Jews, so the man must have symbolically killed a Jew. Nor does Barbara Newman, in her cruel joke of an article “The Catte’s Tale” propose that a Barking abbess possessed a cat as the result of some sort of hidden philo-Semitism. Why do neither Jones nor Newman make such claims? Because given the context of the image or the alleged poem, those claims would be ludicrous. They could have taken Cuffel’s approach and culled any evidence that would have supported such ridiculous hypothetical claims, but instead, they restrained their argument to a tightly-defined context of time and place of creation.

            I may just be harping on the need to be aware of context when stating that medieval views are ambiguous or complex, because in our class discussions no one proposes such laughable arguments as I have just proposed. We are implicitly aware of the need to remain within the context of time, place, and argument, but as we begin to write papers, it is important to be explicitly aware of it. Perhaps I am just concerned about my own argumentative writing. I admit, I was guilty of being sucked into Cuffel’s way of thinking when reading her article. She asserts that rabbits and hares were associated with Judaism, which I was tempted to use to counter Stoker and Stoker’s claim that rabbits were souls in need of salvation.[5] If rabbits were a symbol of Judaism, then the pillow mounds they use as evidence are actually somehow homes for Jews, rather than wandering Christian souls. This whole line of thinking was related to my paper topic, but admittedly, I neglected to consider that Stoker and Stoker made their argument with specific evidence in a specific context of how rabbits were viewed. “It’s more complex than that;” rabbits could be (and probably were) both representatives of lost souls and the Jewish people, just as pigs and cats were more than just stand-ins for Jews. Accepting complexity only works when recognizing different contexts.  

RAE

---

[1] Cuffel, 205-209.

[2] Ibid., 226.

[3] Lipton, 373-377.

[4] Jones, 110.

[5] Stoker and Stoker, 270.

More Animal Categories: Allegorical, Scientific, and Marginal Art

            In his lengthy enumeration of depictions of elephants in medieval manuscripts in "The Elephant in Medieval Legend and Art", G.C. Druce offers his own opinions on the artistic abilities of each artist, saying such comments as “[This] is a realistic picture” or “The elephant is like a pig,” and even that one “[displays] the artists’ disregard for natural coloring.”[1]  In doing so, Druce slips into the all too inviting trap of assuming that every medieval illuminator or artist attempted to make their art as realistic as possible; some just had more skill than others. He does not, as Nora Flores does in "The Mirror of Nature Distorted", recognize that there may in fact be multiple purposes for depicting animals. Flores divides medieval animal art into two categories: “allegorical” and “scientific.”[2] I would venture to add a third category, that of marginalia, which often bridges the gap between allegorical and scientific and adds a complication to our desired, neat categorical division.

            The “allegorical” depiction of animals derives, according to Flores, from the belief that each animal reflected something about the nature of God or of humans. The life cycle of the elephant, for example, was held to be an allegory of the Fall of Man. When the female elephant is ready to mate, she tempts the male with a mandrake, as Eve tempted Adam. When she gives birth, her mate must guard her from dragons, symbolic of the snake that tempted Eve. Typically, the moral lessons one should learn from the animals dictated how they were drawn in bestiaries; in some cases, “authority rather than reality direct[ed] their composition.”[3] If ancient authors, such as the author of the Physiologus, made a claim about a certain, creature, it would likely be repeated by later authors, even if later observation of the animal proved such a statement false. For example, it was commonly held that elephants lacked knees, and when they leaned against a tree to sleep, the tree could be partially cut and broken by the elephant’s weight, and the elephant successfully captured. Even as knowledge of elephant joints spread, it is likely that some artists chose to keep their drawn elephants jointless to match the description of how an elephant could be hunted. As Bridgette Resl, in "Beyond the Ark: Animals in Medieval Art," writes, “What mattered first and foremost, therefore, was ease of recognition. In such a context it was more important for the subject to look typical than realistic.”[4]

            The “scientific” category of animal art is less straight-forward than “allegorical” art. Flores claims, “By the mid-thirteenth century, artists were also looking more critically at nature and using it more often as a model for their creations.”[5] We see this most clearly in the elephant allegedly drawn from life by Matthew Paris, who saw the elephant presented to Henry III for his menagerie. Paris gets the placement of the knee correct, has a very natural-looking trunk, and even places the tusks in the upper jaw rather than the lower (a flaw Druce is rather fond of point out). But then again, of course Paris’ sketch looks more natural than other illuminations; he actually saw an elephant with his own eyes! But this does not mean that a realistic elephant, or any realistic creature for that matter, suddenly lost its symbolic meaning. We are reminded of the 17^th-century paintings of birds in a park, a scene that is entirely realistic, but perhaps has no meaning without an understanding of the symbolism associated with each type of bird. Flores, then, goes too far with her assertion that the “scientific” overtook the “allegorical” from the 15^th century on. As I have already mentioned, it was sometimes necessary for the allegorical purpose of an animal to be clearer to a viewer than the animal’s actual appearance.

           

            Then there is the question of marginalia. Are these drawings outside of the text still related to the text? If not, what is their purpose, especially the incredibly naturalistic marginalia of the Annunciation in the Hastings Hours? H.W. Janson, in his chapter on marginalia in Apes and Ape Lore, gives a number of examples of apes in the margins of manuscripts in order to discuss specific tropes of apes in art; in those images he chose to print with the chapter, the images are unfortunately separated from their larger context on the page. For the sake of argument, let us assume they are not easily connected to the text with which they appear. Janson goes too far in stating at the beginning of his chapter “The Ape in Gothic Marginal Art” that marginalia “have no illustrative function.”[6] I would propose that marginalia help bridge the gap between allegory and science that we seem so desirous of creating. Searching for symbolism in each marginal creature can often prove fruitless; as one student said in class regarding a particular manuscript page, “I can explain the ape but not the man with the crossbow.” When no symbolism can be found, what prevents us from assuming this is the illuminator’s chance to work on their ability to draw from nature? The Luttrell Psalter artist who drew an ape holding an owl on the back of a goat (MS 42130, f.38r)[7] may not have had the chance to see an ape in person, but their owl is fairly naturalistic. If the typical meaning of ape and owl does not apply to the accompanying text, then who is to say that the illuminator included it simply because they were talented at drawing the owls they had observed around their monastery? One could even come up with a scenario of the Hastings Hours illuminator, tired of drawing only Biblical scenes they feel no connection to and yearning to draw the butterflies they see in the cloister every day. Of course, the anonymity of these artists is more of a hindrance than help in explaining the exact purpose of marginalia. But I think it is safe to assume that marginalia fall somewhere in the middle of Flores’ “allegorical” and “scientific” categories, and therefore show to us that the division between the two is not as distinct as, for ease of comprehension, we would wish them to be. 

RAE

---

[1] Druce, 35, 42.

[2] Flores, 5.

[3] Ibid,, 27.

[4] Resl, 191-192.

[5] Flores, 10.

[6] Janson, 163.

[7] Ibid., Plate XXIIId.

Making a Mockery out of Ourselves with Animal Symbolism

               The class discussion on using animals to say awful or wonderful things was definitely helpful in thinking about my post. Yes, there is discomfort when discussing the unfortunate use of animal imagery in the history of persecution against Jews, Christians, and Muslims. The discussion in class ended with a concern for placing an article, manuscript, and any account of animal symbolism (positive or negative) within its greater context. The way in which Sara Lipton uses one animal, the cat, and investigates one manuscript, the Bible moralisee, we decided was the best example of context needed to understand what the symbolism of the cat means (including all the relevant and irrelevant interpretations).[i]  Lipton works from the specific outwards showing a larger development of the cat through the manuscript and how the cat can be symbolic for a few things even within one text as well as the things in which it is not. 

               During class I found myself thinking, “it would be great to go back in time and watch a bar fight about to happen. There might be a guy who trips and knocks into some other guy’s girlfriend, she drops her drink and before you know it someone just called someone else a sloppy baby eating pig! The boyfriend calls the drunk an ass (the donkey type) or an ox and then the entire crowd goes silent…that was low!” Okay so maybe barn animals are not that insulting now, we might just laugh it off but those kinds of insults made sense in their context! How can a barn animal insult be more clear to a modern reader? What do we have that compares today? I had a thought, political cartoons. Two political parties who are constantly making fun of and trying to degrade the other through the use animal references. Here’s the thing, as Cuffel illustrates, often the side given the animal adopts it and twists it into a positive and throws back more animal references the other way. For example, Ibn Sahula and the Arabic fable of the lion who ravishes his kingdom and then the ox and ass who become the heroes.[ii] The lion (Christianity) was supposed to be the great leader and the barn animals (Muslims) as subservient beasts. Both sides are identifying with animals yet calling each other animals in a way meant to degrade the other. Here are a few examples of modern day equivalents

Look at the following quote:

“All these uses of animals, to mark the other as irrational, unclean, violent, feminine, or masculine but in an undesirable way, point to a profound anxiety on the part of each of the communities regarding clear boundary definitions; confusion about the boundaries between human and animal, male and female, or good and bad masculinity all serve as metaphors to express concerns about the violation of religious borders.”[iii]

Now change “religious” to political or even physical, change “religious borders” to views on marriage or how about concerns about the economy. The degradation of animals as well as people through the use of political cartoons mirrors the insults that flew around Medieval towns a century ago…with the obvious differences (including: less barn animals, indoor plumbing, and the invention of the iPad). There are some things that we cannot just “Google.”[iv] The context of the animal symbolism needs to be examined. Calling someone a cat clearly did not mean they were “fulfilld of furrinesse.”[v] Understanding the evolution of animal symbolism brings us through a discussion of the hierarchy of the universe from God to plants, animals as tools for learning spirituality, animal husbandry, the medieval economy and hunting practices, and all the other class/blog discussions we have had thus far. As with the animal trials there is more to be studied, I guess we call that job security for historians. 

I’d also like to ask my colleagues to come up with a list of animals that are only found in positive symbolic ways. Then we can use those safely when referring to each other without the fear of being confused for a fearless noble lion or a blood thirsty leader lion. I had bee as a “hard worker” but then someone said that could be possible a “mindless drone” so I had to take it off my list. I also thought of complimenting someone on their quick reflexes like an “eagle” but then who wants to be compared to a bird. Maybe the point is (unless you prove me wrong) that like people, animals can have positive and negative traits too. Maybe comparing people to animals is problematic far beyond the confusion it can cause.

all political cartoons were found at:

http://politicalhumor.about.com/od/politicalcartoons/u/cartoons-and-videos.htm

---

[i] Lipton, Sara. “Jews, heretics, and the sign of the cat in the Bible moralisee,” Word and Image 8.4 (1992)

[ii] Cuffel, Alexandra. Gendering Disgust in Medieval Religious Polemic. Indiana: University of Notre Dame Press, 2007. p 205

[iii] Cuffel, p 200

[iv] Google, www.google.com

[v] Newman, Barbara. “The Cattes Tale: A Chaucer Apocryphon,” The Chaucer Review. Pennsylvania: Pennsylvania State University: 1992. p 411

-R. Pal 

Allegory, Realism, and The Larder

One of the primary themes of our discussion on Friday was the overlap between the instructive purpose of drawings and art and the aesthetic choices made in representing them. We disagreed with Flores’ argument that the transition from “allegorical” to “scientific” approaches to art implied a “progress” culminating in hyper-realism, and took issue with the idea that “unrealistic” art is bad art. Whether or not artists increasingly valued live models for their work, it seems to me that this does not imply that to earlier artists and authors “the actual physical animal was of little or no importance”(Flores, 5)—on one hand, yes, the essence and nature and allegorical purpose of the animal is the true subject matter, and the physical appearance is simply another characteristic element. But if this is the case, why illustrate at all? I think Flores devalues the “allegorical” picture as a teaching text with as much (if not more) riding on accuracy as the “scientific” style.

Still Life with Yale and Unicorn

The depictions of animals in the classic bestiary style clashes with our modern perception of acceptable representation. That much is apparent. But our class discussion on Friday got me wondering how much realism actually matters, because there exists a glass ceiling for hyper realism in art – it can never escape the fate of its own representative-by-definition existence. And consequently, how much of a theoretical difference is there really is representation of animals in the middle ages and in still life paintings?

What is problematic is our perception of the former in light of the latter: it is difficult for a common observer to divorce the idea of realism from skilled artistry.  I concede that medieval artistry lacked a highly developed technical skill, such as near-perfect perspective. Medieval bestiaries portray animals in a style that we would probably classify as one dimensional, rudimentary, and even child-like. But I question why exactly this matters -- why does this reveal a lack of “truth” in medieval art? To answer my own rhetorical question, it depends of what “truths” the artists are trying to depict. For example, is it good or bad art if a painter portrays sheep as unrealistically small, in the interest of showing the size of a flock? There is no answer of course, except to say that this mode of art was the expectation at the time.

Medieval representations of animals are portrayed in a mode of societal convention. This is critical to understanding the connection and skill involved in depicting an animal in the middle ages, and this is also where I take issue with Flores’ binary and linear structural argument of animal representation. She argues that animal representations inhabit one of two spheres – the allegorical (religious) and the realistic (scientific, zoological). Moreover she asserts that there tends to be a shift from the allegorical to the more realistic throughout the course of the middle ages. It's my impression that Medieval artistry is conceived in a particular style, on purpose, and that the artificiality of bestiary imagery emerges out of different social framework than one that might value hyper realism.

This idea forms the crux of this post. I am not an expert on medieval culture, (lowly undergrad that I am...), so forgive me as I do my best here to articulate my hypothesis without a sophisticated understanding of the medieval European mind:

The society of Europe in the middle ages valued a certain portrayal of animals not grounded in anatomical accuracy, but in the idea behind the existence of such animals. For example, the depiction of an elephant is not based on exact realism, but on its size, its trunk, and its tusks. This is what an elephant is to medieval European society, and this is the requisite representation based on that convention. The prevalence of this paradigm, I think, is rooted in the religious  aspect of animal representation that Flores details. She culls a helpful quote from Lynn White Jr.: "In such a world there was no thought of hiding behind a clump of reeds actually to observe the habits of a pelican. There would be no point in it. Once one has grasped the spiritual meaning of the pelican, one lost interest in individual pelicans." This idea transcends symbolic application however, and the artistic convention it implied follows naturally.

How else could mythic creatures be included in the bestiaries, but under this societal understanding? The phoenix, the yale, the unicorn – all are animals based on a premise of existence, and not on literal manifestation. Thus, the goal of medieval artists was to conjure up the notion of the unicorn; whether or not the artists were privy to the existence of the unicorn (or really any of the animals they drew) is of less importance.

To reapply my hypothesis to the flock of sheep example: it is not the realistic accuracy of the sheep that matters, but the idea that such a flock exists. This kind of art does not require realism to get its point across, because the realism is implied in the mere existence of the unrealistic animal(s).

What is really interesting to me about the comparison of bestiary art and still life paintings is that these same aspects are used in both styles. As we discussed in class, still life painting employs symbolism in maximalist fashion. Objects depicted in early still life works are commonly "symbolic of some quality of the Virgin or another religious figure (for example, the lily stands for purity), while other objects may remind the viewer of an edifying concept such as worldly vanity or temperance (as in the case of Saint Eligius's mirror and scales). Moralizing meanings are also common in independent still-life paintings of the seventeenth century." (Source: http://www.metmuseum.org/toah/hd/nstl/hd_nstl.htm) Perhaps the Dutch still life artists owe some more credit to their medieval predecessors than we might at first assume.

TJB

Easter Bunny- Christian, Pagan? Probably Both.

Is the moon a face of a man or a shadow of a hare?

I was always told that the hare on the moon is pounding rice cakes with a mortar and pestle (Korean folklore). In Chinese folklore, the hare is mixing the elixir of life.

Hare symbolism is featured very prominently in many cultures, stretching from East to West. In a Buddhist legend, Buddha was traveling in the form of a hare with an ape and a fox, when the god Indra came disguised as a beggar to test their hospitality. The animals went out in search of food but only the hare came back with nothing in his hands so he threw himself into the fire so that his flesh would become a meal. Indra rewarded this noble act by casting a shadow of the hare over the moon. ^{[http://www.endicott-studio.com/rdrm/rrRabbits.html]} In the Greco-Roman culture, the hares symbolized fertility so eating the parts of the hare could cure sterility. It was also customary for lovers to present each other hares as gifts. The hare was also the sacrificial animal most favorably looked upon by certain goddesses.
The hare is also associated with Easter in many ways. In Billson's "The Easter Hare," a South African myth says "the moon sneds the hare to men to preach this Easter gospel: "Like as I die and rise to life again, so you shall also die and rise to life again." Ironically, the hare tells men the opposite, that they shall not rise again, so the moon strikes the hare's lips with a hatchet. Thus, the hare still bears that mark of punishment. In Western mythology, some scholars believe that many Easter customs have origins as sacrificial rites in connection with the worship of Anglian goddess, Eostre, who was also the Celtic version of Ostara. The idea that hares were sacred to this deity can be supported by writings from Charles Isaac Elton and Jacob Grimm. Elton writes in his Origins of English History that the existing Easter customs "are survivals of sacrificial rites connected with the worship of the Anglian goddess Eostre." Grimm, by tracing the etymology of the terms "Easter" and "Oestre," identifies the goddess as 'the divinity of the radiant dawn, of upspringing light, a spectacle that brings joy and blessing, and whose meaning could easily be adapted to the resurrection day of the Christian God.' (also quoted in Billson's article) However, she is only mentioned by Bede in a single passage, leading others to reject this hypothesis since it solely relies on Bede's credibility as a historian.

The list of all the known connections and associations between hares, Easter, and paganism would by very long. In a similar manner, my attempt to connect these three items to reflect a direct cause-and-effect relationship would also be futile and too messy. With that in mind, would it be sound to argue that the Easter Hare (Bunny) is a Christianized element of pagan symbolism? That the symbolism behind the renewal of spring and the lunar cycle were adaptable to Christian amendments and were easily incorporated into Christian mythology, traditions, and customs?

Of course, this is just the Easter Bunny I'm talking about, which is (or should be) totally overshadowed by the theological and religious meanings behind Easter.

I'm writing my final paper on rabbits AND hares now so just wanted to see if you guys had any opinions on this topic.

Research Paper Brainstorming Ideas

After attending class this past week and upon reading  our discussion assignments,

I aimed to decide upon a paper topic and to begin researching as soon as possible. Our discussions have definitely sparked several ideas into my mind about the topics I would like to research. Despite that, I am still greatly undecided and will appreciate any advice or comments from classmates upon my present ideas.

I first thought of researching more about a quite domestic animal, the lamb, based not only upon the fact that I grew up around them when I was little and have always had an affinity for them, but also because it takes up such a central position within the Catholic religion. I looked within the index of the Brigitte Resl text, and browsed through the pages that made reference to lambs. I really thought it was interesting how often the lamb came into context within religion as a symbol of God and the divine, and yet it was rarely used within daily life beyond the use of its skin. I also had an inkling to research the origin of the lamb as a symbol of divinity, since we rarely see such a domestic animal taking on this grand type of symbolism. Usually lions, doves, eagles, panthers, and leopards and other more extraordinary animals are considered perfect and divine.