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And Tobias Went Forward: and The Dog Followed Him (Tobias 6:1)
And Tobias Went Forward: and The Dog Followed Him (Tobias 6:1)
And Tobias Went Forward: and The Dog Followed Him (Tobias 6:1)
Alastair Minnis
During the two centuries following the death of St Francis, the order
he had founded produced a remarkable number of Bible commenta-
tors of the highest rank. Alexander of Hales, John of La Rochelle, Odo
Rigaldis, William of Middleton, St Bonaventure, Guibert of Tournai,
Roger Bacon, Peter John Olivi, John Pecham, Nicholas of Lyre. . . . the list
goes on and on. Some of Lyre’s successors, however, have been neglected
or undervalued in recent scholarship—not least the Oxford Franciscan
who is the subject of this paper, William Woodford (c. 1330–c. 1397).
The acuity of Woodford’s attack on John Wyclif ’s literalistic theory of
exegesis marks him as one of the most formidable of the evangelical
doctor’s early opponents. And this academic achievement, inter alia,
earns Woodford a place of distinction in the Franciscan hall of fame.
As my guide in the pursuit of this argument, I have enlisted the services
of a strange but faithful creature—Tobit’s dog.
Tobit (or Tobias), the son of the Tobit from whom the Old Testament
Book of Tobit takes its title, had a dog. We have this on good scrip-
tural authority. The blind and impoverished Tobit sends his son to one
Gabelus, “in Rages a city of the Medes” (Tobias 4:21), to recover a loan
he’d given him many years before. Young Tobit is accompanied by an
angel, named Raphael—and by his dog (which is unnamed):1
And Tobias went forward: and the dog followed him (Tobias 6:1).2
1
What’s in a name? In De statu innocencie, viii, Wyclif remarks that we needn’t
concern ourselves unduly with speculation concerning the exact nature of the knowl-
edge enjoyed by Eden’s inhabitants—that is as inane a question as asking the name of
Tobit’s dog. Johannis Wyclif, Tractatus de mandatis divinis accedit Tractatus de statu
innocencie, ed. J. Loserth and F.D. Matthew (London: Trübner, 1922), 512–14. But,
as I shall argue below, in Woodford’s treatment Tobit’s dog takes on considerable
significance within a critique of Wyclif ’s literalism.
2
My Biblical citations in English follow the Douay Bible, as being closest to the
Latin Vulgate.
The expedition proves successful. Not only does young Tobit recover
all the money from Gabelus, but he also acquires a wife, and the gill
of a magical fish which (among other wonders) restores his father’s
eyesight. As young Tobit returns home to his aged parents (who have
given him up for dead), his dog puts in another appearance—running
ahead of the party and announcing its arrival.
Then the dog, which had been with them in the way, ran before; and
coming as if he had brought the news, shewed his joy by his fawning
and wagging his tail (quasi nuntius adveniens blandimento suae caudae
gaudebat) (Tobias 11:9).
Typical canine behavior, as any dog-lover will attest. Peter of Celle,
c. 1115–1183, Bishop of Chartres 1181–83, was so taken with this
account that he drew upon it in describing the behavior of Mary
Magdalene, who, in order to announce the joyful news of Christ’s res-
urrection to the Apostles, rushed along the road showing her joy by
wagging her tail (sic),3 saying, “I have seen the Lord; and these things
he said to me” (John 20:18).
In similar vein, Bede—who thought the behavior of Tobit’s dog was
“charming”4—read the way it followed its master as an allegory of how
holy preachers followed in the Lord’s footsteps, when Christ “came
to save the Gentiles.” He adds that “teachers are called dogs because
they defend their founder’s spiritual home, property and sheep from
thieves and beasts, i.e. from unclean spirits and heretical men.”5 When
he reaches the passage describing Tobit’s homecoming, Bede warns us
not to undervalue the dog’s significance. “One must not dismiss with
scorn the figure of this dog”6—which is, after all, the companion of an
3
. . . Maria Magdalena, tanquam canis Tobiae, qui similiter fuerat in via, quasi nun-
tius resurrectionis ad apostolos veniens, blandimento suae caudae gaudebat. . . . Petrus
Cellensis, Sermo XVII: Feria Sexta Post Dominicam Primam Quadragesimae, Migne,
Patrologia Latina 202, col. 690C.
4
Here I follow Seán Connolly’s translation of Bede’s adverb pulchre (used twice in
this account) as “charmingly,” in Librum B. Patris Tobiae Allegorica Interpretatio, in
Tob 11:9; Migne, Patrologia Latina 91, col. 933D; trans. Connolly, Bede on Tobit and
on the Canticle of Habakkuk (Dublin: Four Courts Press, 1997), 57.
5
Bede, In Tob. 6:1, cols. 927D–928A; trans. Connolly, Bede on Tobit, 46. This may
be compared with St. Gregory’s assertion that “sometimes in scripture dogs represent
preachers,” who have been “chosen from among the unbelieving Jews. When they
declared the truth, coming out against thieves and robbers, they were barking loudly
on the Lord’s behalf.” Homilia in Evangelia, 40.2; Migne, Patrologia Latina 76, cols.
1302D–1303B; cf. Connolly, Bede on Tobit, 46, n. 49.
6
Non contemnenda est figura canis hujus . . .
7
In Tob. 11:9, cols. 933C–934A; trans. Connolly, Bede on Tobit, 57. Connolly pro-
vides an excellent rhetorical analysis of this passage (57, n. 111).
8
Et si quis eumdem etiam allegorice novit interpretari, quantum poma foliis, tantum
interiorem ejus sensum videt simplicitati litterae praestare. In Tob., pref.; col. 923C–D;
trans. Connolly, Bede on Tobit, 39.
9
In Tob., pref., col. 923D; trans. Connolly, Bede on Tobit, 39.
10
However, Bede also commends the literal sense of the Book of Tobit: this work is
“clearly of saving benefit for its readers even in its superficial meaning (superficie lit-
terae) inasmuch as it abounds in both the noblest examples and the noblest counsels for
moral conduct” (In Tob., pref.; col. 923D, trans. Connolly, Bede on Tobit, 39). A similar
affirmation of the text’s “excellent moral character” had been made by Cassiodorus
(Institutiones, I.vi.4–5), as Connolly points out, whilst emphasizing Bede’s “respect for
the basic, outward reading of scripture,” which “is matched by his belief in the literal
truth of its narratives” (20). The text’s tropological potential was exploited by Matthew
of Vendôme in producing his Tobias (c. 1182/87), a poem which attained wide currency
as a grammar school “set text,” becoming one of the octo auctores—on which see the
relevant comments by contributors to The Cambridge History of Literary Criticism 2: The
Middle Ages, ed. Alastair Minnis and Ian Johnson (Cambridge: Cambridge University
Press, 2005), 38–40, 153–60. Ian Thomson and Louis Perraud attribute the success of
Matthew’s poem to its “didactic morality and rhetorical artifice,” the moral themes of
the Biblical text having been amplified “with occasional allegory and a moralisatio.”
Take for example the point at which the elder Tobit says farewell to his son, giving
him a series of commands (Tobit 4:3–21): Matthew expands this with “a gigantic
ethical excursus of 469 lines,” “slightly more than one-fifth of the whole poem”; here
young Tobit gets comprehensive advice on how to conduct himself not only on this
expedition but in life in general, including an account of the seven deadly sins and the
Ten Commandments. Ian Thomson and Louis Perraud, Ten Latin Schooltexts of the
Later Middle Ages: Translated Selections (Lewiston, Queenston and Lampeter: Mellen
Press, 1991), 238, 240. The standard edition of the Latin poem is by Franco Munari,
in Mathei Vindocinensis opera, II: Piramus et Tisbe, Milo, Epistule, Tobias, Storia e
letteratura: raccolta di studi e testi 152 (Rome: Edizioni di storia e letteratura, 1982).
The original text long retained its appeal. Particularly interesting is the fact that, in
the Coventry heresy trials of 1486–1522, Tobit is named as one of the books of the
Bible which Lollards had in their possession; presumably these references are to por-
tions of the Lollard Bible. Cf. Lollards of Coventry, 1486–1522, ed. and trans. Shannon
McSheffrey and Norman Tanner, Camden Fifth Series 23 (Cambridge: Cambridge
University Press, 2003), 42.
11
Johnsonian Miscellanies, ed. George Birkbeck Hill (Oxford: Clarendon Press,
1897), ii, 15.
12
Anne Hudson, The Premature Reformation: Wycliffite Texts and Lollard History
(Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1988), 46.
13
Eric Doyle, “William Woodford, O.F.M., and John Wyclif ’s De Religione,”
Speculum 52 (1977): 329–36. See further Eric Doyle, “William Woodford on Scripture
16
De veritate sacrae scripturae, ed. R. Buddensieg (London: Trübner, 1904), I, 138;
trans. Ian Christopher Levy, John Wyclif, On the Truth of Holy Scripture, TEAMS
Commentary Series (Kalamazoo MI: Medieval Institute Publications, 2001), 112.
17
Following Doyle’s summary: “Woodford on Scripture and Tradition,” 491.
18
Medieval Literary Theory and Criticism. c. 1100–c. 1375: The Commentary Tradition,
rev. ed. by Alastair Minnis and A. B. Scott with David Wallace (Oxford: Clarendon
Press, 1991), 268; cf. 204, 242.
19
Epistola XCIII.viii.24; CSEL 24, 469–70.
20
Summa theologica, 1a 1, art. 10, ad 1um; trans. in Minnis and Scott with Wallace
(eds.), Medieval Literary Theory, 242.
the Bible. Here is how the argument works. Different truths are found
in the different Gospels; in particular, St. John (who wrote his Gospel
after the other Evangelists) expressed many evangelical truths not to be
found in the previous Gospels. These truths did not become evangelical
when John wrote them down; they became evangelical when Christ
uttered them. Woodford’s denigration of mere textuality continues
with the claim that, even if all the books of the New Testament were
destroyed, we would still be obliged to believe the truths which Christ
had uttered. After all, Christ Himself never committed anything to
writing. Oral tradition may therefore be defended robustly. Several of
the apostles left us nothing in writing, but their teachings were passed
down by others. And so on and so forth. If some of these arguments
seem familiar to Middle English scholars, it is probably because a
version of them is found in Nicholas Love’s preface to his translation
of the Pseudo-Bonaventurean Meditationes vitae Christi (c. 1410),21 a
translation famously authorized by Archbishop Arundel himself. Some
recent scholars have attacked Love’s statement for what they regard as its
attempt to keep layfolk away from the solid and potentially subversive
truths of Scripture itself, offering them instead establishment-pleasing
hearsay and anodyne imaginings.22 Whatever the truth of that sugges-
tion (which I, for one, regard as too simplistic), it seems quite clear
that Woodford is not driving a wedge between the Biblical record and
extra-Biblical tradition. Rather, as Doyle nicely puts it,
Woodford understood Scripture and tradition to be intimately combined
in a balanced and harmonious unity. They flow from the same unique
source of all doctrine: Christ Himself. All that has been revealed is derived
from the one Evangelical Source, so that Scripture and tradition form one
deposit of God’s Word committed to the Church.23
Now for Woodford’s second crucial argument. The statement that cer-
tain crucial truths are not to be found in Scripture is followed by the
21
Nicholas Love’s “Mirror of the Blessed Life of Jesus Christ,” ed. M.G. Sargent (Exeter:
Exeter University Press, 2004), 10–11.
22
See in particular the comments of Nicholas Watson, “Censorship and Cultural
Change in Late Medieval England: Vernacular Theology, The Oxford Translation
Debate and Arundel’s Constitutions of 1409,” Speculum 70 (1996): 822–64 (853–54),
and “Conceptions of the Word: The Mother Tongue and the Incarnation of God,”
New Medieval Literatures 1 (1997), 85–124 (esp. 94); also Kantik Ghosh, The Wycliffite
Heresy: Authority and the Interpretation of Texts (Cambridge: Cambridge University
Press, 2002), 147–72.
23
Doyle, “Woodford on Scripture and Tradition,” 493.
statement that certain truths, or at least facts, are found in Scripture yet
are of no evident consequence for our salvation. In other words, the
fact that something is explained or described with utter clarity in the
literal-historical sense of Scripture does not ipso facto make it important
for us. And this brings us back to Tobit’s dog:
Prima ergo veritas erat haec. Non eo quo veritas est magis necessaria ad
salutem . . . ipsa est expressius contenta in sacra scriptura. Patet haec primo,
quia quod Deus [est] tres Personae est multo magis necessaria ad salutem
quam quod Barabus erat latro vel Tobias habuit canem. Sed haec veritas
‘Deus est tres Personae’ non est ita expresse contenta in sacra scriptura sicut
ista: ‘Barabus erat latro’ vel ‘Tobias habuit canem’, quia utraque istarum
explicite et expresse habetur in sacra scriptura. . . . Patet haec secundo,
quia quod Filius est Patri consubstantialis est veritas magis necessaria ad
salutem quam quod ‘Tamar sedit in bivio’ . . .24
So, then: certain truths which are more necessary to salvation (such as,
“God is three persons” or “the Son is consubstantial with the Father”)
are less explicitly or expressly contained in Scripture than are the truths
that Barrabas was “a notorious prisoner” (as the Douay Bible puts it;
Matt 27:17),25 that “Thamar sat in the cross way” (i.e. at a crossroads;
Gen 38:14),26 and that Tobit had a dog.
It might be objected: read literally and historically, these passages
indeed seem to have no major consequence for our salvation, but,
understood morally, they may well be important—witness Bede’s
interpretation of Tobit’s dog as a zealous teacher preparing the way
for its Lord, or Peter of Celle’s reading of that creature’s excitement
as a figure of Mary Magdalene’s eager rush to tell the good news of
Christ’s resurrection. But Woodford has eliminated allegorical read-
ing from the debate, thereby engaging with Wyclif on what he regards
as his opponent’s own ground. From the literal sense alone may any
argument be drawn . . .
It might also be objected: Woodford claims he will take Wyclif ’s
doctrine as referring only to truths which are conducive to our salva-
tion. But such truths as “Barrabas was a notorious prisoner,” “Thamar
sat at the crossroads,” and “Tobit had a dog” are not conducive to our
24
Oxford, Bodleian Library, MS Bodley 703, fol. 77r.
25
Matt 27:15–26 recounts how the mob demands the release of Barrabas and the
execution of Christ.
26
Like a common woman, to allure her father-in-law, Juda, into sleeping with her
and impregnating her.
27
The Repressor of Over-Much Blaming of the Clergy, ed. C. Babington, Rolls Series
19 (London: Longmans, 1860), 117–24.
28
Paris, Bibliothèque nationale de France, MS Lat. 3381, fols. 115r–124v.
29
Two other works are, however, available in print: Woodford’s De causis condem-
nacionis articulorum 18 damnatorum Johannis Wyclif was included in Edward Brown’s
see it. Wyclif may be regarded as having actually reaffirmed the value
of the “spiritual senses” of Scripture, going against an academic trend
which tended to relegate allegory to the realm of persuasive argument
and preaching. This trend is writ large in Nicholas of Lyre’s mighty
Postilla litteralis, where (following Thomist hermeneutics) the literal
or historical sense is afforded special importance, being regarded as
the sense intended by the human (though of course divinely inspired)
author. As I argued in my monograph Medieval Theory of Authorship,
thirteenth-century Parisian schoolmen granted this human auctor of
Scripture more agency than before, as an instrumental efficient cause
working under the primary efficient cause, God.35 Wyclif, I believe, was
deeply uncomfortable with such developments. Moving beyond the
general notion that the Bible was divinely inspired, he believed that
“each syllable of Scripture is true because it is a divine emanation,” as
J.A. Robson puts it in his Wyclif and the Oxford Schools.36 And because
the Bible in its entirety is the single and singular Word of God, we are
not permitted to dissect it, or suppose that some parts lack sufficient
authority, or emphasize the diversity of human acts of authorship in
ways which might seem to compromise or constrain divine authorship.
It must be read in its unity and integrity according to the sense of its
auctor. And that auctor is God. All the senses of Scripture, therefore,
collapse into one. In a specific case we may wish to specify one as
“literal” and another as “allegorical,” but all are expressions of the
intention of one and the same author-God, and equally valid in the
grand scheme of things (if not in syllogistic argument). Thus authorial
intention becomes coterminous with the divine will, and the “human
authors” of Scripture (as Lyre termed them) are subsumed in divine
authorship and authority. Viewed in this light, Wycliffite literalism is
inseparable from Wycliffite allegorism.
These hermeneutics are complicated indeed; little wonder that they
survive only partially in later Lollard thought. Particularly telling is
the fact that the anonymous authors of the “General Prologue” to the
Wycliffite English Bible avoided them, choosing rather to appropriate
35
Medieval Theory of Authorship: Scholastic Literary Attitudes in the Later Middle
Ages, 2nd ed. (Aldershot: Scolar Press, 1988), esp. Chapter 3.
36
Wyclif and the Oxford Schools (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1961),
146. See further the crucially important discussions by Beryl Smalley, “The Bible and
Eternity: John Wyclif ’s Dilemma,” in Journal of the Warburg and Cortauld Institutes 27
(1964): 73–89, and Ian Christopher Levy, “John Wyclif ’s Neoplatonic View of Scripture
in its Christological Context,” Medieval Philosophy and Theology 11 (2003): 227–40.
37
The Holy Bible, containing the Old and New Testaments, in the Earliest English
Versions, made from the Latin Vulgate by John Wycliffe and his Followers, ed. Josiah
Forshall and Frederic Madden (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1850), I: 43, 52–55.
FitzRalph is named in Ch. 12 (48). On the significance of his Summa in quaestionibus
Armenorum for the Wycliffite General Prologue, see Alastair Minnis, “ ‘Authorial
Intention’ and ‘Literal Sense’ in the Exegetical Theories of Richard FitzRalph and
John Wyclif,’ ” Proceedings of the Royal Irish Academy 75, section C, no. l (Dublin,
1975). See further the relevant discussion in the fourth chapter of my forthcoming
book, Translations of Authority in Medieval English Literature: Valuing the Vernacular
(Cambridge: Cambridge University Press).
38
Franz Kafka, “Investigations of a Dog,” in Kafka, Complete Stories, trans. W. and
E. Muir, ed. N. Glatzer (New York: Schocken, 1971), 290.
39
To reiterate the words of Bede, as translated by Seán Connolly; cf. n. 6 above.