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20 chapter two The Question of the Author At the opening of her Lai du Chèvrefeuille, Marie de France states that she is going to tell the truth about this lay, “Why it was composed , how and what are its origins” (Pur quei fu fez, coment e dunt). These are recognized as among the questions that make up what the Latin scholarly tradition calls the accessus ad auctores, a series of interrogations intended to facilitate the reading of the classics by explaining the life of the author, the title of the work, the intention of the writer, the subject of the book, the utility of its contents, and the branch of philosophy to which it belongs. These are Aristotelian categories and, to all authors who have gone through school, this grid is well known. In his Light of the Laywomen (Lumière as Lais), Pierre de Peckham (or de Fetcham) says it in this way: “Five things are now sought to be given at the beginning of the book: who was the author, and the title, and the matter and the form as well, and the goal, that is, for what reason the composition was made” (Cinq choses sont ja enquere/Au commencement en livere fere:/Ki fust autur, e l’entitlement,/E la matire e la furme ensement,/E le fin, ceo est par queu reisun/Fu fest la composiciun; ll. 531–536). This questionnaire allows us to measure literary awareness. Some use it as is, without making any modifications. The opening of the Ars d’amour de vertu et de boneurté, a treatise in prose from the end of the thirteenth century, reads: “For whom it was made and who made it, with these lines I shall describe it for you” (Pour qui est fait et ki le fist/Par ces vers ci le vous descrist). The riddle that comes next in the text has not been solved and we must keep in mind the contrast here between the affirmation of an author “who made it” and the desired or circumstantial anonymity that is emblematic of a very typical situation in medieval literature. Others parody, and even mock, this series of questions. For example, Jehan de Brie signs as “the good shepherd” (le bon berger) and writes Le vray régime et gouvernement des Bergers et Bergères (The True Regime and Government of the The Question of the Author 21 Shepherds and Shepherdesses) for King Charles V. After having recalled the outline of the accessus and said that he would only answer part of them, he gives the title of his book: “And it will be called novelty”(Et sera appelé nouvelleté), a title that strictly speaking is not one. He adds, “And if one asks to what philosophical branch it belongs, one can respond that it will be attributed to foolosophy, or the philosophy of shepherding” (Et se aulcun demandoit à quelle partie de philosophie il sera supposé, on peult respondre que il sera attribué et supposé à la philosotie, ou philosophie de bergerie; p.6). The generality of the naming: “novelty” (nouvellet é) and the portemanteau word “foolosophy” contribute to the irony. The good shepherd is comically juxtaposing his function as shepherd and the scholarly pose he is taking, as one who is “worthy of reading [that is, to teach] in Fouarre street” (digne de lire en la rue au feurre)—the famous street of Parisian pupils whose name (fouarre = hay, straw) brings to mind sheep. Between the seriousness of the university and his parody, the function of the author must be deciphered. Who Composes? The allotment was not a purely social one, although there was, of course, a large divide between the religious orders and laymen. The religious orders, due to their way of life and their easy access to book culture, were more easily turned toward the production of books, especially in the earlier period. In reality, however, every layer of society, except the peasants , was found among those who composed works: monks and nuns, nobles and great lords, great and minor clerics, scholars, civil servants, members of the royal chancery,1 of parlement, bourgeois, and merchants. The biggest separation, without a doubt, was between professionals and amateurs; those who made a living writing and those who composed solely for pleasure, to pass time in a useful way in later life. Knights, men of war, started writing at the point when one would have felt old in the Middle Ages: forty or fifty years of...

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