Morality Lesson at the Job-Solomon Portal in Chartres

Mediaevistik 31 . 2018 89

Dr. Gili Shalom Gerda Henkel Fellow, Tel-Aviv and Frankfurt Universities

Abstract: This paper will discuss the representation of the Judgment of Solomon in Chartres dated to 1220 through the method of reception and involved spectatorship. I will argue that the beholders are invited to participate actively in the narrative through what I term ‘The Inviting Figure’ – a sculptured figure who frontally addresses the beholders with a gesture or a direct look and presents the moral dilemma of the story. As I will contend, this stratagem of involved spectatorship can also be traced in contemporary literature and theatre. Finally, I will show that the Judgment of Solomon is staged as a contemporary law lesson known as Questiones disputatae that were held at the contemporary universities.

Morality Lesson at the Job-Solomon Portal in Chartres

In her study of the capital frieze at Chartres Cathedral, Kathleen Nolan noted that “all public art implies the presence of an audience, but certain examples of mid-twelfth century sculpture reveal a special awareness of their viewers.”1 According to Nolan, the sculptures at Chartres address both lay and clerical audiences, each of which might have had a specific role in the process of deciphering and understanding the narrative.2 Yet, although much has been written concerning the chronology, artistic origin, sources of influences, iconography, patronage, and more recently the reception of the Chartres western façade and its connection to the local cult and liturgy, the question of how Gothic tympana activated beholders’ participation in the narrative has rarely been touched upon.3 This lacuna seems to be a consequence of Adolph Katzenellenbogen’s commanding reading of Chartres as a “Summa,”4 to be perceived mainly as part of a theological demonstration. Such a perception implied either passive viewers who absorb “Things of Greater Importance,”5 or ideal beholders, namely the clergy, who might decipher the complex theological discourse visualized in the tympana, thereby rejecting any possible role or interpretive freedom for viewers.6 Hence the “awareness of the viewers” has never been adequately applied – neither methodically nor thematically – to the study of Chartres’s north and south portals, a notion that implies consideration of reception theory,7 which in itself challenges Katzenellenbogen’s assumptions, who assumed that everyone was familiar with the same theological texts and the curriculum of the School of Chartres, and thus had the same ability to interpret the iconographical program.8 In this article, I examine the thirteenth-century depiction of the Judgment of Sol- omon (Fig. 1) featured in the lintel of the Job-Solomon Portal at Chartres Cathedral,

The online edition of this publication is available open access. Except where otherwise noted, content can be used under the terms of the Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivatives 4.0 International License (CC-BY-NC-ND 4.0). For details go to http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc-nd/4.0/ © 2018 Dr. Gili Shalom https://doi.org/10.3726/med.2018.1.06 90 Mediaevistik 31 . 2018 the westernmost portal of the north transept, as a paradigmatic case study of reaction and participation in Gothic tympana.9 Unlike earlier or contemporary depictions of the Judgment of Solomon that usually include its central protagonists – the king, the baby, the executioner, and one or both of the mothers,10 in Chartres a male group was added to the narrative. Depicted in agitated gestures, this group eyewitness and respond to the event, while some of them also gaze out of the relief to include the beholders. Moreo- ver, unlike earlier representations, the plot itself is neither resolved nor at the highpoint of the narrative but is instead in an intermediate stage. This, in turn, leaves the unresolved episode open to personal interpretation. Thus, the relief addresses the beholders with a moral dilemma that is still to be resolved outside the surface of the tympanum. I contend that through the presence of what I term an “inviting figure” – namely, a sculptured figure gazing at the beholders and gesticulating toward them, thus communicating directly with the audience standing below – the beholders are invited to participate actively in the narrative and consider its possible interpretations. Although this visual stratagem is supposedly considered as a device introduced only in the Re- naissance, as articulated by Alberti himself, I will show that it was already a widespread strategy in the Gothic era.11 Such an inviting figure is not an integral part of the biblical narrative being depicted but, rather, a fictive character added to communicate with the realm that lies outside of the tympanum. The various inviting figures embedded in the tympanum suggest an interactive environment in which the beholders are active agents in the creation of a meaning. My aim here is not to reflect on specific beholders of the portal but, to discuss the visual stratagem that addresses various audiences. In order to understand the notion of activation of the beholders, I first present the his- toriography of the theoretical conceptualization and terminology of the inviting figure. I then offer a comparative study of the scene with visual precedents of the Judgment of Solomon in order to demonstrate its uniqueness by accessing the narrative and its interpretation to the beholders through an inviting figure. I delineate this figure through a close analysis of the relief’s composition, layout, and the postures and gestures of all of the figures. I then continue to explore similar constructions (or invitations to participate) in liturgical theater, on the one hand, and in courtly literature, on the other. Finally, I argue that the judgmental tribune depicted facing Solomon is an allusion to lessons in law as they were held at the then contemporary universities. I show that the relief is staged as a Quaestiones disputatae, namely, as a law lesson taught by the Doctors of the Church that refers to the moral perplexitas investigated by contemporary theologians such as William of Auxerre (d. 1231) and Alexander of Hales (1185–1245) – both influenced by Gratian’s Decretum.12 Perceived as an exercise in morality in stone, the moral dilemma in the Old Testament’s Judgment of Solomon presented contemporary beholders with a vivid perplexity, and the whole portal offers an interactive environment for its various audiences.13

The Inviting Figure

In his famous Della pittura Leon Battista Alberti noted: “It seems opportune then that in historia there is someone who informs the spectators of the things that unfold; Mediaevistik 31 . 2018 91 or invites with the hand to show; or threatens with severe face and turbid eyes not to approach there, as if he wishes that a similar story remains secret; or indicates a danger or another (attribute) over there to observe; or invites you with his own gestures to laugh together or cry in company.”14 This visual device in the shape of a figure looking outside the painting and interacting with the spectators was considered by Alberti to be a Renaissance invention designed to open the pictorial realm to the participation and manipulation of the viewers. In this context, I term his model for interaction with viewers that offers them the chance to enter into the world opened in front of them through the “perspective window” an “inviting figure,” which addresses spectators through gestures, gazes, and postures. Inviting figures break away from the inherent coherency and the internal space of the picture toward the multiple realities outside the frame, turning the viewing of the work into an event “that both locates and includes the viewers through the innumerable evocations, cancellations, and superimpositions.”15 The exchange and interaction between the real viewer of an artwork and the internal fictitious figure as a formalist means for understanding the complex processes by which humans communicate with art were first suggested by Alois Riegl in his famous study The Dutch Group Portrait written in 1902.16 Riegl demonstrated how the communication process in Dutch painting is carried out through a painted figure standing en face, its full gaze toward the beholders and its hand pointing at the central scene, who appears to be responding to and directing its attention toward an unseen protagonist standing outside the painting. Such figures are doubly oriented: with their gaze they address the exterior of the canvas, the reality outside the painting, whereas their gesture points toward the interior of the scene. These figures thus create a bridge between the participants, one made of pigment and the other flesh and blood. The actual beholder and the unseen protagonists thereby become interchangeable. Riegl also showed that the interaction with the spectator is not merely a matter of gaze and gesture, but rather also involves the raising of a question though formalist aspects in the pictorial space to be answered by the actual beholder. Thus, the psychological tension actively subordinates the beholder, creates a sense of subjective involvement on the part of the spectators, who gain control over the pictorial realm by making it part of their own consciousness. Riegl’s idea inspired many studies on reception, from Ernst Gombrich’s “beholder’s share”17 to Hans Belting and David Freedberg, who launched a new history of response and ontology of “images,”18 and later to Richard Wollheim (“involved spectatorship”).19 These studies raised the problem of reception and response as they are visually formulated in painting, whereas little attention was paid to the viewer of the sculptured tympana.20 Riegl’s pioneering work, almost ahead of its time, was overshadowed by Emile Mâle’s “Stone Bibles”21 and Erwin Panofsky’s authoritative model of iconography and iconology, which pushed aside the role of the viewer.22 Gothic tympana were perceived as a visualized Summa, as part of a demonstration of complex iconographic programs presenting theological arguments as these were supposedly defined in the cathedral schools and scholastic thought, or “mental habitus.”23 These programs were often seen as having a hermetically closed meaning that might or might not be comprehensible to every viewer, depending on the viewer’s interpretive tools.24 As a result, the clerics were seen as the 92 Mediaevistik 31 . 2018 ideal recipients of these works of art, which were designed to teach the audience about religious truth.25 While art historical studies on Gothic tympana continued to focus on intentionalism, a unifying concept for “sculptural program” in their political context,26 the notion of participatory spectatorship was further explored in the field of “Reader-Response Crit- icism,” by Hans Robert Jauss and Wolfgang Iser in the so called Constance School.27 According to Jauss and Iser, the reader is considered an active agent, who imparts the meaning of the work through his/her interpretation. This theory sets aside the intention of the author and related questions. Jauss defined literature as a dialectic process of production and reception in which the reader has a certain mental set, and the under- stating of the text is based upon each reader’s personal experience. Iser elaborated this notion in the term “implied reader” – the hypothetical reader to whom the work is addressed – whose thoughts and attitudes may differ from those of the actual reader. The implied reader of a religious text would thus be the monk, who has the most knowledge for understanding and approaching these texts. He would also be the ideal viewer of the sculptured tympana, the one who can understand the meaning whether literally, metaphorically, ideologically and so on. Under the influence of the Constance School and the emergence of reception theory during the 1960s, as well as such works as the seminal study of Umberto Eco’s Opera Aperta,28 the iconographical “textualization” of medieval art was outmoded and has been questioned. In the last decades, studies in medieval art and objects have explored how religious art might be open to different interpretations, these being dependent on various interpretive communities (such as nuns, mystics, laity, etc.), and can be addressed to a range of audiences at the same time.29 However, in spite of all these crucial theoretical moves and the introduction of reception theory in many fields of Medieval Studies, this approach has never been applied to Gothic tympana itself. In what follows, I will attempt to re-read the tympanum of Job-Solomon through these lenses. Could we identify the protagonists gazing out of the relief toward the beholder as inviting figures? And if so, how does their presence affect the manipulation of meaning of the relief?

The Judgment of Solomon and the Inviting Figures

The dating of the north transept portals has been an issue of long debate, with estimates ranging from before 1210 to 1230; today, however, it is generally accepted that the Job-Solomon Portal was executed around 1220 (Fig. 2), and, together with the eastern Nativity portal, it belongs to the later campaign of the cathedral’s sculpture.30 The tympanum depicts the suffering of Job (Job 2:7–13). In the middle, Job is lying on a dung heap. To the left are three of his companions who tried to convince him to curse God. Two of them are talking to one another, while the third is standing above Job’s head, looking at Job as if rebuking him. In the center, Satan is standing and touching Job’s head and leg, afflicting him with boils. Satan is looking up, toward the image of Christ at the peak of the tympanum with an angel on either side. To the right is Job’s wife, who also encouraged her husband to recant from his stubbornness (Fig. 3). Mediaevistik 31 . 2018 93

The Judgment of Solomon is depicted on the lintel.31 According to the account in 1 Kings 3:16–28, Solomon was asked to judge between two mothers who gave birth to a child at the same time; when one of the babies died, both women claimed to be the mother of the remaining infant. To determine the truth and to solve this dilemma, Solomon ordered that the child be cut in half. The real mother then rushed forward to prevent the act, whereupon Solomon recognized her as the real mother and ordered that the child be returned to her. In Chartres, the lintel features twelve figures: an enthroned and crowned figure of Solomon appears on the left section of the relief; to his left is the executioner and to his right is a male figure holding the infant; the quarrelling mothers are at the back (Fig. 4). At the far right a group of six males is shown engaged in lively conversation (Fig. 5). The executioner seems about to draw his sword; his head is bent in concentration, so he is not looking at the beholders. Solomon’s torso is depicted in a three-quarter profile, with his head in full profile, so he is completely detached from the beholders below. He is gesturing toward a bearded man who is standing in front of him and presenting the infant to the king, to the internal participants of the relief, and to the beholders. Of these three figures – the executioner, Solomon, and the bearded man – it is only the last, the man who holds the infant that addresses the beholders directly. His lower body is seen in profile as if while walking his image was captured and frozen. As Katzenellen- bogen observed “the Judgment of Solomon is about to be carried out.”32 This freezing of movement accents the tension in the narrative: a dramatic action is about to take place and the beholder’s attention is drawn by both the direction of the movement and the gaze of the bearded man, whose upper body, like Solomon’s, is in three-quarter profile. However, unlike Solomon, he is looking straight ahead, and his gaze is dramat- ically frontal, directed outside the relief, seemingly drawing the viewers’ attention and allegedly inviting their intervention, thus turning them into beholders. It is this figure, communicating and negotiating with the beholders, that I term the inviting figure. This figure does not belong to the biblical story and is not necessary to the plot – the man does not hold the sword, but only the infant – a role usually reserved for the executioner; his sole function, as is discussed below, is to communicate with the beholders and enhance participation.33 In the background of the lintel, the two mothers are depicted anxiously reacting to the event; they are in constant interaction one with the other and they are both imaged in profile. The mother on the left seems to be leaning away from the mother on the right, while pointing at herself with one hand and at her opponent with the other; the latter has one arm wrapped around her body and the back of her other hand is against her face, as if in rejection or self-defense. Moreover, her bodily posture is contracted, in stark contrast to the other mother, suggesting grief.34 Finally, the right-hand section of the relief depicts a group of six male figures, an audience aware of the drama or witnessing the judgment. The two separate sections of the relief – the Judgment of Solomon on the left and the audience on the right – are connected through the infant held by the inviting figure. The infant is depicted in profile while looking to the right of the beholders, toward the male group. Among this attentive audience, on the left side in the background of the frieze, an elderly bearded man, seen from head up, facing the beholders frontally, is another inviting figure in this scene. Next, there is a young man 94 Mediaevistik 31 . 2018 looking left, toward the inviting figure holding the child. The last four attendants are all sitting in the foreground of the lintel and seem to be constantly interacting with one another or reacting to the event presented by the inviting figure with the child. None of them faces the beholders directly. All these male figures seem to constitute an audience of eye-witnesses and listeners to the arbitration. Willibald Sauerländer described this group as “an amazed audience,” even though he did not speculate on the function of this non-text-based addition.35 Among the elaborate depiction of the Judgment of Solomon and the various interactions among the various groups, only two figures seem to detached themselves from the inner happenings and direct their attention instead to the beholders, thus inviting their participation in the dramatic scene. The appearance of the two inviting figures, who present the dilemma to both the internal and external audiences, suggests their agency as communicators between the relief and the beholders. Both figures are the only ones outside of the flow of the narrative, gazing at the real spectators, addressing them in a moment of conflict, and confronting them with the concern for the infant’s fate. These figures invite the beholders to participate in a narrative whose resolution is not necessarily determined, but remains to be comprehended through their imagination and understanding.36 Although the topic of the relief is easily identified, it is by no means the mere illustration of a text. The biblical story makes no mention of the moral dilemma of either the king or the executioner. Moreover, whereas in the biblical story one can tell who is the righteous mother and who is the imposter, in the relief the depiction is unlike the traditional iconography of the theme: there is no visual sign to suggest the identity of the real mother; neither mother is holding the infant; they are neither young nor old; neither righteous nor sinful; their gestures and mimicry are not definitive; and so they do not raise the question of “ownership” of the child.37 Furthermore, in Chartres the depiction stands in contrast to Augustine’s interpretation of the text,38 wherein the two mothers represent the Church and the Synagogue: the latter is convicted of having killed her child, whereas the former is falsely accused. The murderous mother also symbolizes those false Christians who are still slaves to Jewish law and only pretend to be true followers of Jesus; the judgment itself is a fight for the truth and an attempt to repel hypocrisy. Thus, according to Augustine, the true mother is identified as Ecclesia and is depicted triumphant and the imposter – Synagoga – is shown in grief. In the pseudo-Augustinian text Altercatio Ecclesia et Synagogae, written in the fifth century and copied well into the twelfth century, the two women are considered as rival queens disputing over which of them has the right to govern the earth.39 In the biblical text Solomon identifies the true mother through her grieving gesture. However, if in Chartres the true mother (supposedly representing Ecclesia) is the woman on the right, the gesture of grief belies this identification, whereas if it is the mother on the left, who is pointing at both herself and her rival, her gestures do not fit Augustine’s interpretation. Even more confusing is the latter mother’s relationship to the infant: although standing behind him, she makes neither eye nor physical contact with the child.40 Thus, the beholders, in their difficulty in identifying the real mother, are confronted by the inviting figure with the moral dilemma of the story: How can one make the right judgment, knowing that any decision will have crucial implications, Mediaevistik 31 . 2018 95 especially when the relief does not give any clue as to the morality of the protagonists and their ethical behavior. Hence, the relief does not visually articulate what position the audience is expected to take: which woman is to be condemned and which is to be praised and, consequently, who should be forgiven and who should seek penance. Thus the inviting figures have a dual function: on the one hand, they present the moral dilemma of the story to the external beholders, communicate with them, and elicit their reactions; on the other hand, by leaving the plot unresolved they encourage the viewers to consider the event, to complete the story, and to pass judgment, thereby turning the viewers into active beholders. The two inviting figures – one inserted in the sacred history and the other set within the male group – were added to the narrative for a communicative purpose, encouraging an active and involved spectatorship, while also providing an imitative model of response: namely, the performance of justice and the law (which I come to in the last section of this article). An earlier representation of the scene employs a different syntax. In the stained-glass window of the north transept in the Strasbourg Cathedral, dated to the last quarter of the twelfth-century,41 the story is depicted in three scenes (Fig. 6).42 The lower panel shows the two mothers presenting their case before a crowned and enthroned Solomon, who is holding a scepter in his left hand and gesturing toward the mothers with his right (Fig. 7). Behind Solomon stands the soldier, holding a sword in one hand and pointing toward the center of the panel with the other. The two mothers are in profile, each one holding a child. The second panel depicts Solomon ordering the division of the child (Fig. 8), whom his courtier wrenches from the arms of one of the women. Solomon then recognizes the true mother, who implores him with outstretched hands to spare the child. As Kerry Paul Boeye commented, in the middle panel Solomon is seated frontally in a maiestas pose, associating him with Christ and suggesting the Judgment Day.43 The story concludes in the third panel (Fig. 9), with Solomon ordering the return of the child to his rightful mother. In Strasbourg, however, neither the courtiers nor the mothers look or gesture toward the viewers and there is no participating audience.44 Another earlier example dated to ca. 1210–1220, can be found in the initial ‘D’ at the beginning of Psalm 38 of the Hours of the Virgin MS D6, illustrating Solomon’s Judgment (Fig. 10).45 The depiction is similar to the one on the stained-glass window in Strasbourg, with an enthroned figure of Solomon holding a scepter and gesturing toward a soldier and one of the mothers; here too none of the figures appeals to the beholders and no audience is depicted as participants. Rather, the portrayal is reduced to the essential elements of the text and adheres to a strict literal rendition. In a later depiction in Strasbourg’s south portal, ca. 1220–1230,46 on the socle, just below the image of Christ and the statue of Solomon on the trumeau, the two struggling women are quarreling, and again there is no juridical tribune (Fig. 11). The true mother is recognized by holding her dead child in her arms and at the same time, reaching for the live infant, but being held off by the other mother. Although this is a nineteenth-century restoration, it probably reflects the original iconography.47 Two important points come out of this comparative study: first, whereas in previous works, one can easily differentiate between the judicious mother – the Ecclesia – and the wrong doer – Synagoga – as interpreted by Augustine, in Chartres there is no visual hint that might assist in differentiating between the two mothers: neither signs of age 96 Mediaevistik 31 . 2018 nor bodily gestures suggesting rightness and wrongness; thus the audience is confronted with the opacity and moral ambiguity of the scene. Second, in none of these examples is there a figure that looks or gesticulates at the viewers and there is no audience. Moreover, it is only in Chartres that the infant is held by the fictive inviting figure and not by the executioner. The inviting figures at Chartres are thus alien to the iconographical tradition, redundant to the plot, and function solely to elicit an empathic response. The twelve figures in the relief at Chartres provide an illuminating example of the way in which the beholder becomes part of a fiction.48 The stratagem of involved spectatorship and parallel structures of activation of the beholders or listeners is evident in several contemporary arenas,49 the first and most prominent examples are found in the courtly literature,50 for example, the twelfth-century Arthurian romance Erec et Enide written by Chrétien de Troyes (1170).51 The poem recounts the story of Erec and his marriage to Enide and their adventures. The reader is often directly addressed by the narrator in different situations: when the narrator wishes to draw special attention in order to present Erec’s enemy, he suddenly says: “And now behold!,”52 or when he wishes to describe the court that participated in Erec and Enide’s marriage he says: “Now I will tell you, and listen well.”53 The call for the reader’s attention is not made only through the activation of the sense of sight but also through the sense of hearing:54 “Now soon you will hear the noise of battle,”55 “And you shall hear of the joy.”56 Finally, at the end of the poem, there is a great festival in Erec’s honor; the narrator briefly describes the wealth of the event, but then says “but I do not wish to make you believe a thing which does not seem true.”57 This comment suggests that the meaning of the story is not determined unequivocally and that it remains open to the personal understanding of the readers or viewers.58 Another example of the activation of the reader can be found in the twelfth-century poem Floire et Blanchefleur (1160/1170).59 The story recounts the love between the royal courtier Floire and the pagan Blanchefleur, who is sold as a maiden to an emir. Floire, hoping to find his beloved and get her back, sets out on a journey to Babylon. The reader is addressed several times during Floire’s travels: “Hear now the words spo- ken,”60 “now you shall hear astounding things,”61 evoking thereby the readers/listeners curiosity regarding foreign lands and cultures, their imaginations and their empathy, allowing them to feel as if they were there participating in the hero’s adventures. After a series of escapades, Floire is told that Blanchefleur is locked in a tower that is kept by a guard and that she is obliged to marry the emir, which is a sentence of death, as the emir kills his wives after the first year of marriage. Floire manages to enter the tower and find his beloved, but the pair is caught and brought before the emir for judgment.62 The emir decides not to kill them on the spot and calls for a council of advisers, saying: “You have heard the tale, sirs. Judge the case,”63 addressing both the internal participants and the real listeners or readers with a moral dilemma and invites them to participate in the judgment. This again reveals that the role of readers/listeners/beholders as advisers and eyewitnesses who are invited to participate is to reflect and then to judge for themselves. The same literary convention is visualized in the case of Solomon and the beholders in Chartres. This appeal not only invites the real listeners to participate in resolving a moral dilemma, but also to unveil its truth.64 Likewise, in Chartres the beholders are Mediaevistik 31 . 2018 97 called upon by the visual narrators – namely the inviting figures – to reveal the truth and identify the real mother. Moreover, both in Floire et Blanchefleur and in the story of the Judgment of Solomon, the judges make their decision based not only on what they have heard but also, and mostly, on what they have seen. Just as the audience or the courtly fiction is asked to rule, so is the actual beholder of the sculptured tympanum in Chartres called upon to judge by his act of looking; thus sight becomes the central sense through which the spectators are expected to uncover the truth.65 By means of judicious gazes the two inviting figures in Chartres invite the beholders to judge the matter and reveal the truth. Another example of the interactive relationship between beholder and sculpture is found in La Salle aux images – The Hall of Images – in Thomas de Bretagne’s romance Tristan, written around 1170.66 As recently suggested by Assaf Pinkus, this poem offers an illuminating insight into medieval response theory. When Tristan realizes that his love for Iseut will not be fulfilled, he erects a statue of Iseut and her entourage in a cave. According to the story, Iseut’s statue is lifelike and gives off a sweet smell. Owing to his infatuation Tristan cannot function in his marriage, and the statue becomes a substi- tute for his beloved. Moreover, whenever Tristan feels that the true Iseut has forgotten him, he visits the Hall of Image and talks to Iseut’s statue, kissing and embracing it. For Tristan, the sculpture is a simulation of a real encounter between object and beholder, constituting an interactive relationship between them. He not only reacts to the sculpture and is in constant interaction with it, but this mutual interaction constructs Tristan’s own identity.67 Moreover, according to Matilda Bruckner, Thomas’s de Bretagne version of the story and his attitude toward the main characters is not judgmental, but rather leaves the judgment to “those who have direct knowledge of love and, not sur- prisingly, it is to lovers of all sorts that Thomas directs his romance.”68 A similar address to the beholders can also be found in Old French plays, especially in the instructions for direction as in the case of the twelfth-century work entitled Le Mystère d’Adam or Le Jeu d’Adam.69 According to William Tydeman, the play was an open air theater and was staged in the open space outside some churches or cathedrals in southern England or northern France between 1146 and 1174.70 The open playing area at the foot of the church steps, called the “platea” or the “place,” was on the same level as the audience.71 According to the play, when Satan fails to tempt Adam to eat the forbidden fruit, he “shall go to the other devils and shall run about the ‘place.’”72 Hoping to have changed Adam’s mind, Satan makes a second attempt to offer him the forbidden fruit. Adam refuses again and Satan leaves him and turns to the gates of hell, where he will talk with the other devils. Satan does not give up easily and in the instructions for the play it is written that “he (Satan) shall run around among the spectators.”73 The play does not expand on Satan’s actions – what exactly he is supposed to do while running among the audience. However, I believe that the moment that Satan makes close contact with the spectators is the precise moment that connects the audience with the play and its dilemma, as if Satan is asking: what would you have done if you were in Adam’s shoes? Would you give up the opportunity to eat from the forbidden fruit? Could you resist the temptation? Moreover, not only was the play performed in front of a church or cathedral, with its sculptures as a décor, which reinforced and supported the ongoing events, but the audience became active participants in the play and was 98 Mediaevistik 31 . 2018 also facing the moral dilemma of the story – should they eat from the forbidden fruit? As Janet Ericksen argued, “the narrator allows readers to hear and judge both what the devil says to Adam and Adam’s response.”74 Along these lines, Jacqueline Jung has argued in the case of the sculptures of the Wise and Foolish Virgins portal in Magdeburg Cathedral that the emotional emphasis of the range of facial and bodily gestures facilitates communication with the viewers of the portal and elicits an emotional response, so that the portal becomes an “interactive environment.”75 In her study on the choir screens in Gothic churches, she argues that the panels of Chartres’s choir screen are rich in “reality effects” that are not necessary adjuncts to the narrative, but rather contribute to the interest in the sacred stories and serve to foster a viewers’ memories of them.76 Can the relief at Chartres be perceived in a similar way, that is, as abounding in reality effects? As I discuss in the last section of this paper, in view of the inclusion of the inviting figures – figures that are not actually elements of the narrative – as well as the presence of a male audience, the Judgment of Solomon in Chartres is an exception in medieval iconography. It encouraged the beholders to take an active part in the narrative while turning the biblical account into a story that was much more relevant to them, thus enhancing their sense of involvement. Even more particularly, the relief seems to exert a reality effect that had contemporary implications in both costumes and context in that it appears to set the stage for a lesson in law.

Law Lesson at the Portal: The Art, the Beholder, and the Decretum

Perceiving the Judgment of Solomon in Chartres anew as a visual portrayal of a moral dilemma to be engaged by the viewers, opened up the depicted narrative far beyond a mere exemplification of the biblical account. The staging of an engaged audience in the relief suggests in itself a form of polemical discourse that might allude to the contemporary events that were similarly performed. First and foremost, the lessons of law that included an extensive discussion on morality and the nature of dilemma. It was around the mid-twelfth century at the University of Bologna that these classroom exercises known as Quaestiones disputatae took place for the first time. In these exercises, “a fictive or real question related to the law was raised, students or young teachers were assigned to argue both sides, as in a court of law, when the master supervised it all as a judge.”77 In her article “The Pro-Active Reader: Learning to Learn the Law,” Susan L’Engle explores sketches and images that appear in the margins of contemporary textbooks of Roman law as organizational and memory tools.78 According to L’Engle: The University offered a highly organized course of Roman law where the classroom activities revolved around the instructor who sat at the center with the textbook,79 students clustered around him. Only a few students would actually be able to see the text as it was read out loud. For this reason the lectura was essentially an oral experience: a master would read and explain a passage: students would then respond with questions or conjecture.80 Mediaevistik 31 . 2018 99

I contend that this practice of lessons as held not only at the University of Bologna but probably also in Paris and its surroundings is echoed in the Chartres’s relief.81 Five of the male figures attending the Judgment of Solomon are clearly in constant interaction either with one another or with the judge – Solomon – in what seems to be a lively debate as suggested through their gesticulating hands. Moreover, as discussed by L’Engle, the most essential element for a legal lesson or scene was an enthroned figure representing authority – secular, ecclesiastic, or divine, exactly as King Solomon is depicted.82 Another important element in courtly scenes is the depiction of lawyers or judges wearing the pileus – the lawyer’s or judge’s hat,83 as featured, for example, in a mid-thirteenth-century legal manuscript known as the Digestum vetus, in which the middle figure, identified as the lawyer, is wearing a pileus (Fig. 12).84 In Chartres each of the three men in the center of the male group is wearing a pileus. Similar depictions can be found in the early thirteenth-century illustrations of Welsche Gast,85 where the judge is shown seated, wearing a tunic, a mantle, and a pileus (Fig. 13).86 An illuminating example can be found in the Ingeborg Psalter, dated to 1195, which features the three Magi standing before Herod.87 A scribe seated in the center of the scene is wearing a pileus (Fig. 14); he is pointing toward the Magi with his left hand and clasping his tunic in his right, similar to the second figure of the male group in the foreground of the frieze in Chartres. Moreover, the first figure in the male group, the one with the short beard, resembles Herod in costume and gesture: they both hold the cords of their tunics as an embodiment of authority. According to Roland Recht, in medieval art, gestures can be classified into two categories: the “subjective, which is linked to emotions or passions, and the “objective,” which is linked to rank and function.88 Thus, the gesture of the short-bearded male figure holding the cord of his tunic is “objective” and denotes dignity.89 Although the figure from Chartres and the male figure from the manuscript hold their cords with a different hand, the authoritative meaning of the gesture remains clear. Therefore, this male figure in Chartres, similar to Herod, represents earthly authority – in our case the principal of the law school; this is emphasized by the hand gestures of the two male figures to his right – what Moshe Barasch calls “the speaking gesture” – wherein the listening hand is extended toward the speaker.90 Hence, King Solomon, who is sitting on the throne and is a symbol of eternal wisdom, refers to divine authority – to Christ and to the Last Judgment. Solomon can be seen as the judge of the lesson, the male group as the students, eager to listen, while the inviting figure holding the infant materializes the narrative, rendering it accessible to the beholders and confronting them with the moral dilemma of the story that is to be resolved by both the internal and external audiences. Moreover, in the traditional iconography the two mothers are usually depicted fighting, which offers a theological reading of the scene as Ecclesia and Synagoga fighting over the kingdom,91 but here the relief suggests a new reading in the context of civil law. The Chartres’ relief confronts the beholders not only with the question of differ- entiation between ‘doing good’/’righteous’ and evil but with the questions of what is justice and how can it be achieved, thus moving from the typological to the municipal domain. This idea might also be conveyed by the liturgical and ritualistic functions of the portal. Paul Crossley has suggested that the Job-Solomon portal was the entrance for 100 Mediaevistik 31 . 2018 pilgrim processions, “especially on Maundy Thursday, when penitents received public absolution and were admitted into the church.”92 The Judgment in Strasbourg has also been viewed in a similar context, 93 as the civic court of justice and penitent processions were held at the foot of the portal. According to Nina Rowe, the deacon would invite the penitents to “Come, come children, I will teach you to fear God…come turn away from the bad and toward the good.”94 If, as speculatively suggested by Crossley, the penitents indeed entered through this portal, then Solomon’s Judgment – the most accessible relief – with its inviting figures might have functioned as a liminal gate, wherein the sculptured images evoked a moral exercise on the part of the penitents, who were expected to choose between right and wrong – as did Solomon as well as Job, who is depicted with three friends in the tympanum above. In the Bible, the speech of the three friends is an example of the conviction that Job must have a sinned, for otherwise he would not have been punished. These friends also assume that God always rewards good and punishes evil. Job’s wife also suggests that he should curse God.95 Job’s story is an example of perplexitas and was a central theme in Peter de Roissy’s commentary on the Book of Job, in which he interpreted Job as both Christ and the Church.96 It is clear that the story of Job, who had to choose between cursing his God and earning physical wealth or continuing to suffer, and the story of the Judgment of Solomon both deal with moral dilemmas related to revealing (divine) truth.97 Both stories deal with the act of choosing between right and wrong, but they also confront the beholders with a dilemma that is to be resolved by each individual personally. In Chartres the overall direction of the work, how it moves and moves us, known as intentio auctoris (i.e., authorial intention) – that is, not what the artist decided was to be done – but rather the ‘intention’ within the work itself, which, as recently discussed by Carruthers, could be discerned through its effect on the audiences is achieved by the insertion of the inviting figures.98 That intention was to activate the beholders and to confront them with moral questions through the direct look of the inviting figures that encourages the spectator’s active engagement and accompanies them in the process of making the right judgment. But how does then one make the right judgment? And should all moral dilemmas be treated the same way? Such questions among others were explored in the Decretum,99 written by Gratian (d. 1160) sometime between 1139 and 1158 and adopted as the stand- ard textbook of canon law.100 The work was an attempt to resolve the apparent contra- dictions within and between ecclesiastic and civil law. Gathering his information from different sources, Gratian based his arguments on the sacred scriptures, papal pronounce- ments, the works of the Church Fathers, documents from Church councils, and the works of ecclesiastical authors. Many theologians commented on the Decretum, two of them concentrating primarily on the questions of morality: In his widely circulated work Sum- ma aurea, written between 1215 and 1229,101 William of Auxerre (ca. 1140–1231) com- bined the newly rediscovered Aristotelian texts with Christian theology.102 Alexander of Hales (ca. 1185–1245),103 William’s younger contemporary at the University of Paris,104 wrote his famous work Summa Halesiana between 1241 and 1245.105 Both authors de- voted a separate section to the problem of dilemma perplexitas (moral dilemma), which, according to a thirteenth-century compendium of theological term, “is an entrapment between opposites, so that one seems always to be bound to sin, on whatever side one might choose.”106 Mediaevistik 31 . 2018 101

Both William and Alexander argued that the sense of perplexity is threefold: prima perplexitas, is related to the understanding of the sacred scriptures; secunda perplexitas, is related to what should be done; and tertia perplexitas, is the perplexity of the inevitability of sinning. Both authors believed that the first and second perplexities could be remedied either by correct use of the sacred Scriptures or through prayer. It is the third perplexity with which they are both mainly concerned: the inevitability of sinning. They also agree that the moral dilemmas can be classified into spiritual and corporeal: namely, between dilemmas of the religious world, which involve primarily clerics, and those of the mundane world, which are of concern to both clerics and the laity.107 There are also some particular examples in each work.108 The corporeal perplexities, three of which are common to both authors, are relevant to this discussion: “The Madman’s Sword Dilemma,” which deals with a man’s vow to return a sword to his friend once requested; the man is perplexus because if he does not return the sword to its owner, he has violated his oath, but if he does return it, he becomes an accomplice in a homicide committed by his friend; “The Usurer’s Money Dilem- ma” deals with a man who took an oath to return money to another once asked; yet he either violates his oath or returns the money to the usurer and causes its owner a spiritual death, as usury was considered a grave sin that resulted in suffering a spiritual as well as a bodily death.109 The last common dilemma in corporeal works is “The Usurer’s Wife Dilemma,” where a usurer’s wife is perplexed since she possess- es nothing of her own and her husband has earned his money by usury; the wife is in a moral dilemma since she either violates her vow to her husband or she is an accomplice in the act of usury.110 These examples reveal that the theme of moral dilemmas was central to the concerns of contemporary theologians and studied intensively. Moreover, the corporeal perplexities indicate that anyone, regardless of social status, could be in the throes of a moral dilemma as these dilemmas relate to the mundane issues of everyday life.

Conclusion

The lintel featuring the Judgment of Solomon offers an illustrative case study of the ways Gothic narrative called for the participation of the viewer in a mental exercise or moral lesson through the mediation of inviting figures. These two figures in Chartres – the bearded man holding the infant and the one seen in the background – are the only figures that address the real beholders by means of a gesture or a direct look. They are introduced into the narrative in order to interact with the beholders and confront them with the moral dilemmas and the problematics of the story, such as the identity of the true mother, the relevancy of the violent trial, and so on. Such dilemmas, which remain unsolved in the lintel, are to be speculated on by the beholders. Moreover, while telling an Old Testament story, the relief stages a contemporary juridical classroom in which the beholder is invited to participate. Apart from confronting the fictive and the real audience with a moral dilemma still to be resolved, the relief also refers to the discourses of Quaestiones disputatae that were taking place in 102 Mediaevistik 31 . 2018 the contemporary universities. Bearing in mind that the tympanum itself features the story of Job, the entire portal offers a major manifestation of human moral dilemmas. The resolution of the depicted situation remains in the beholders’ hands, eyes, and moral habits. It is the beholders who are expected to judge and to reveal the identity of the true mother through their judicious viewing, just as in the courtly literature. Where- as in law lessons in the universities and in the courtly literature, the key to participation lay in a delicate interplay between the authoritative narrator and the students or readers/ listeners, the exact nature of the viewing of the sculptured narrative remains vague: whether viewed individually in personal devotion during the Thursday liturgy, by the devotees in general, or by the canons who used this entrance. As there is no documental evidence regarding the specific uses of the portal, the question of the nature of its audiences remains open. Nevertheless, the lintel seems to provide a reference to the various audiences that were important participants in the narrative and were invited to enter and interact by the expressions and gestures of the inviting figures.

Endnotes

This paper benefited from comments by Adam S. Cohen, David Freedberg, Katrin Kogman- Appel, and Assaf Pinkus, for which I remain indebted. I am also grateful to the anonymous readers of Mediaevistik for their insightful remarks. 1 Kathleen Nolan, “Ritual and Visual Experience in the Capital Frieze at Chartres,” Gazette des Beaux-Arts 123 (1994): 53–72, at 53. 2 Nolan, “Ritual and Visual Experience,” 54 (n. 1). See also Margot Fassler, “Liturgy and Sacred History in the Twelfth-Century Tympana at Chartres,” The Art Bulletin 75, no. 3 (1993): 499–520; Laura Spitzer, “The Cult of the Virgin and Gothic Sculpture: Evaluating Opposition in the Chartres West Facade Capital Frieze,” Gesta 33 (1994): 132–50. 3 On the question of chronology, see Louis Grodecki, “The Transept Portal of Chartres Cathe- dral: The Date of Their Construction according to Archaeological Data,” The Art Bulletin 23 (1951): 156–64; Paul Frankl, “The Chronology of Chartres Cathedral,” The Art Bulletin 39, no.1 (1957): 33–47; idem, “Reconsideration on the Chronology of Chartres Cathedral,” Art Bulletin 33 (1951): 156–64; Jan Van der Meulen, “Histoire de la construction de la cathédrale Notre-Dame de Chartres après 1194,” Bulletin de la Société archéologique d’Eure-et-Loir 23 (1965): 79–126; “Recent Literature on the Chronology of Chartres Cathedral,” The Art Bulle- tin 49 (1967): 152–72; Willibald Sauerländer, Gothic Sculpture in France 1140–1270, trans. Janet Sondheimer (London: Thames and Hudson, 1972), 430–38. This debate was resumed in Brigitte Kurmann-Schwarz and Peter Kurmann, Chartres: La Cathédrale, trans. Thomas de Kayser (Saint-Leger-Vauban, Yonne: Zodiaque, 2001), 278–302; idem, “La cathédrale des Chartres: Les portails du transept; un projet conçu par étapes,” in Monumental, ed. Michel Clément, Françoise Bercé, and Claude Eveno (Paris: Centre des monument nationaux 2003), 118–19. For a seminal study on the techniques of construction of the cathedral and its contractors, see John James, The Contractors of Chartres, 2 vols. (Wyong: West Grinstead Pub- lications, 1979–1982); idem., Chartres: The Mason Who Built a Legend (London: Routledge and Kegan Paul, 1982). On the question of iconography, see Adolph Katzenellenbogen, The Sculptural Programs of Chartres Cathedral (Baltimore, MD: The John Hopkins University Press, 1959), 56–78; Even Wilhelm Vöge’s and Peter Kidson’s studies on the sculptures of the transepts are limited to the Virgin Portal or to the column figures, see Wilhelm Vöge, Mediaevistik 31 . 2018 103

“Pioneers of the Study of Nature around 1200,” in Chartres Cathedral, ed. Robert Branner (New York and London: W. W. Norton, 1969), 207–32; Peter Kidson, “The Transept Portals,” in Branner, Chartres Cathedral, 194–206; Anne McGee Morganstern, High Gothic Sculpture at Chartres Cathedral, the Tomb of the Count of Joigny, and the Master of the Warrior Saints (University Park, PA: Pennsylvania State University Press, 2011), 35–72; on the significance of Chartres’s column figures, see Janet Ellen Snyder,Early Gothic Column: Figure Sculpture in France (Farnham, Surrey: Ashgate, 2011). A rich bibliography on a range of topics related to Chartres can be of found in Jan Van der Meulen, Rüdiger Hoyer, and Deborah Cole, Char- tres: Sources and Literary Interpretations: A Critical Bibliography (Boston, MA: G. K. Hall, 1989). 4 Katzenellenbogen, Sculptural Programs (see n. 3), 91–102, at 101. 5 Conrad Rudolph, The Things of Greater Importance: Bernard of Clairvaux’s Apologia and the Medieval Attitude Toward Art (Philadelphia, PA: University of Pennsylvania Press, 1990), 3–9. 6 Karen R. Mathews, “Reading Romanesque Sculpture: The Iconography and Reception of the South Portal Sculpture at Santiago de Compostela,” Gesta 39, no. 1 (2000): 3–12. 7 These are the central studies that discuss the Job-Solomon portal: Peter Kidson, Sculpture at Chartres (London: Alec Tiranti, 1958), 47–61, at 53; Peter Cornelius Claussen, Char- tres-Studien: Zu Vorgeschichte, Funktion und Skulptur der Vorhallen (Wiesbaden: Franz Steiner, 1975), 126–52, at 140–47; Jean Villette, Les portails de la cathédrale de Char- tres (Chartres, 1994), 123–69, at 147–59; Martin Büchsel, “Salomon Portal in Chartres,” in Hiobs Gestalten. Interdisziplinäre Studien zu Bild Hiobs in Judentum und Christentum, ed. Markus Witte (Leipzig: Evangelische Verlagsanstalt, 2012), 83–116. For studies on the reception of the south and/or north transept portals, see: Jane Welch Williams, Bread, Wine, and Money (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1993); Laura Hollengreen, “Living Tes- timony: Exemplary Old Testament Narratives on the North Transept Facade of Chartres Ca- thedral” (Ph.D. diss., University of California at Berkeley, 1998); eadem, “From Medieval Sacred Place to Modern Secular Space. Changing Perspectives on the Cathedral and Town of Chartres” in Architecture as Experience: Radical Change in Spatial Practice, eds. Dana Arnold and Andrew Ballantyne (London and New York: Routledge, 2003); Jennifer Lyons, “(Re)Reading Chartres: The Socle Figures on the North and South Transept Portals” (MA Thesis, Tufts University, 2007); Paul Crossley, “Ductus and Memoria,” in Rhetoric beyond Words: Delight and Persuasion in the Art of the Middle Ages, ed. Mary J. Carruthers (Cam- bridge: Cambridge University Press, 2010), 214–49; Colleen Farrell, “St. Anne at Chartres,” (Ph.D. diss, Yale University, 2013); Jennifer M. Feltman, “Charlemagne’s Sin, the Last Judg- ment, and the New Theology of Penance,” Studies in Iconography 35 (2014): 121–64. 8 Katzenellenbogen, Sculptural Programs (see n. 3), 7–36; for a critic of his study, see Nolan, “Ritual and Visual Experience” (see n. 1), esp. her n. 5, 35, and 57. 9 I explicitly choose the use of the term “reaction” and not “response.” According to Webster’s New Twentieth-Century Dictionary, 2nd ed., s.v. “response”: “something said or done in answer to something else; an answer; reply” whereas in Webster’s New Twentieth-Century Dictionary, s.v. “reaction”: “a return or opposing action, influence, etc.” I consider the term “reaction” to be more accurate in the context of my thesis as it emphasizes an act on the part of the beholders that is not only reduced to a feeling (which is a “response”). Moreover, I show that when the sculptured tympanum is viewed in its liturgical context, and calls for an action by its beholders (i.e., repentance), the reaction definition is more relevant and emphasizes the consequences of the act of viewing. 10 See the comparative study below. 11 I discuss Alberti below, see also n. 14. The inviting figures of the moral dilemma in Chartres are not an isolated phenomenon. Although completely neglected in previous studies, they 104 Mediaevistik 31 . 2018

characterize many facades in the Île de France in the thirteenth century. Although I cannot discuss all the cases, I would like to point out that the visual stratagem of the “inviting figure of the moral dilemma” can be found, for example, in the St. Stephen Portal in Bourges Ca- thedral (ca. 1230), where one of the executioners stands frontally while holding the stones in his hands, in contrast to the others, who are depicted in profile and in the act of stoning. For a discussion of other forms of invitation, see my paper “Reliving the Past in the Present: Martyrdom, Baptism, Coronation, and Participation in the Portal of the Saints at Reims” in Convivium IV, no. 2 (2017): 96–113. 12 The Decretum was compiled in the twelfth century. On Gratian, see Anders Winroth, The Making of Gratian’s Decretum (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2000), 1–33; Michael V. Dougherty, Moral Dilemmas in Medieval Thought (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2011), 13–40, at 14–18 and the last section of this paper, in n. 100. 13 It is through the active participation of the beholders that the tympanum becomes an interactive environment whose meaning is constructed through the act of beholding. That is why in this article I do not follow the traditional codes of scholarly description, but rather adhere to the beholders’ point of view when describing the sculptured tympana. 14 Alberti, On Painting, ed. and trans. Rocco Sinisgalli (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2011), 44–73, at 63. Although one might argue that Alberti’s ideas of invitation oc- curred in the context of a radically different conception of images than was current in the early 13th century, from a formalistic point of view Alberti’s concept arouses wonders about earlier examples of viewing. As I will argue below, it is possible to see similar practices already in the Gothic period. For other studies discussing the address to the spectators in the Renaissance period, see Robert W. Gaston, “Attention and Inattention in Religious Paintings of the Renaissance: Some Preliminary Observations,” in Renaissance Studies in Honor of Craig Hugh Smyth, ed. Andrew Morrogh et al. (Florence: Giunti Barbèra, 1985), 253–68; John Shearman, Only Connect… Art and the Spectator in the Italian Renaissance. The A. W. Mellon Lectures in the Fine Arts, Bollingen Series 37 (Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 1987), 10–58. More recently Brown has shown how the direct address to the beholders can also be traced in the cinema, Tom Brown, Breaking the Fourth Wall: Direct Address in the Cinema (Edinburgh: Edinburgh University Press, 2012). In other words, here we face a rather universal phenomenon that deserves close attention. 15 David Freedberg, “Joseph Kosuth and the Play of the Unmentionable,” in The Play of the Unmentionable: An Installation by Joseph Kosuth at the Brooklyn Museum, exhibition catalogue (New York: New Press /Brooklyn Museum, 1992; Exhibition catalogue), 31–68, at 44–45. 16 Alois Riegl, “The Dutch Group Portrait (excerpts),” trans. Benjamin Binstock, October 74 (1995): 3–35. 17 Ernst H. Gombrich, Art and Illusion: A Study in the Psychology of Pictorial Representation 2nd ed. (Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 1969). 18 Hans Belting applied Gombrich’s “beholder’s share” when discussing the experience of the viewers in the paintings of the Trecento. See Hans Belting, “The Role of Narrative in Public Painting of the Trecento: Historia and Allegory,” Studies in the History of Art (Washington Na- tional Gallery) 16 (1985): 151–68, at 153; idem., The Image and Its Public in the Middle Ages: Form and Function of Early Paintings of the Passion, trans. Mark Bartusis and Raymond Meyer (New Rochelle, NY: A. D. Caratzas, 1990); David Freedberg, The Power of Images: Studies in the History and Theory of Response (Chicago and London: University of Chicago Press, 1989). 19 Richard Wollheim, Painting as an Art. The A. W. Mellon Lectures in the Fine Arts, Bollingen Series 35 (Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 1987), 101–86. Mediaevistik 31 . 2018 105

20 The interactive quality of viewing medieval art was further explored in relation to devotional objects, especially relics. These studies focused on the animism and intersubjective exchange between objects and users. See Ilene H. Forsyth, The Throne of Wisdom: Wood Sculpture of the Madonna in Romanesque France (Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 1972); Beate Fricke, Ecce fides: Die Statue von Conques, Götzendienst und Bildkultur im Westen (Munich: Wilhelm Fink, 2007); Cynthia Hahn, “The Voice of the Saints: Speaking Reliquaries,” Gesta 36, no.1 (1997): 20–31; eadem, “What Do Reliquaries Do for Relics?” Numen 57 (2010): 284– 316; eadem, Strange Beauty: Issues in the Making and Meaning of Reliquaries, 400–circa 1204 (University Park, PA: Pennsylvania State University Press, 2012); Elina Gertsman, “Per- forming Birth, Enacting Death: Unstable Bodies in Late Medieval Devotion,” in Visualizing Medieval Performance, ed. Elina Gertsman (Aldershot: Ashgate, 2008), 83–104; eadem, “The Facial Gesture: (Mis)Reading Emotion in Gothic Art,” Journal of Medieval Religious Cul- tures 36, no. 1 (2010): 28–46; eadem, Worlds Within: Opening the Medieval Shrine Madonna (University Park, PA: Pennsylvania State University Press, 2015). Gertsman has also explored the interactions among text, image, and beholders in connection with fifteenth-century wall paintings of the danse macabre: eadem, The Dance of Death in the Middle Ages: Image, Text, Performance (Turnhout: Brepols, 2010); Barbara Abou-El-Haj, “The Audiences for the Me- dieval Cult of Saints,” Gesta 30 (1991): 3–15; see also the latest publications in The Public in the Picture: Involving the Beholder in Antique, Islamic, Byzantine, Western Medieval, and Renaissance Art, ed. Beate Fricke and Urte Krass (Zürich and Berlin: Diaphanes, 2015). 21 Emile Mâle, Religious Art in France of the Thirteenth-Century, trans. Dora Nussey (Paris, 1913; New York: Dover Publications, 2000), 390–99, at 390. The idea of the sculptural program of the cathedral as a “Stone Bible” was first introduced by John Ruskin in connection with Amiens Cathedral: John Ruskin, “The Bible of Amiens,” in The Works of John Ruskin, ed. Edward Tyas Cook and Alexander Wedderburn, 39 vols. (London: Georges Allen, 1908) 33: 5–187. See also Stephen Murray, Notre Dame Cathedral of Amiens: The Power of Change in Gothic (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1996), 103–23, at 103. 22 Erwin Panofsky, Studies in Iconology: Humanistic Themes in the Art of the Renaissance (New York: Oxford University Press, 1972); idem, Renaissance and Renascences in Western Art (New York: Harper and Row, 1972). 23 For the discussion on mental habitus, see Erwin Panofsky, Gothic Architecture and Scholas- ticism (New York: Meridian Books, 1957), 20–27, at 21. 24 Such varied studies are discussed below. 25 Mathews, “Reading Romanesque,” (see n. 6), 3–12. 26 Bruno Broener, “Sculptural Programs,” in A Companion to Medieval Art: Romanesque and Gothic in Northern Europe, ed. Conrad Rudolph (Oxford: Blackwell, 2006), 557–76. 27 Hans Robert Jauss, Pour une esthétique de la réception, trans. Claude Maillard (Paris: Gallimard, 1978); Wolfgang Iser, The Implied Reader: Patterns of Communication in Prose Fiction from Bunyan to Beckett (Baltimore and London: The Johns Hopkins University Press, 1974); idem, The Act of Reading: A Theory of Aesthetic Response (Baltimore and London: The Johns Hopkins University Press, 1978). According to Holub, “If one thinks of Jauss as dealing with the macrocosm of reception, then Iser occupies himself with the microcosm of response.” Robert C. Holub, Reception Theory: A Critical Introduction (London and New York: Methuen, 1984), 53–106, at 82–83. 28 Umberto Eco, Open Work, trans. Anna Cancogni (1962; Cambridge, MA: Harvard Univer- sity Press, 1989). 29 See n. 6. 106 Mediaevistik 31 . 2018

30 Sauerländer and Vöge dated them to 1220. See Sauerländer, Gothic Sculpture (see n. 3), 435; Vöge, “Pioneers,” (see n. 3), 207–32; Grodecki argued that “the foundations of the transept were laid before 1210” – an assumption that, according to Frankl, is only possible for the main portal of the north façade. Grodecki, “Transept Portal,” (see n. 3), 156–64. Frankl dated the construction of the transept porches to 1224–1230. Frankl, “Chronology of Chartres,” (see n. 3), 33–47; Van der Meulen accepted the 1220 dating, whereas James suggests that the cathedral was built from bottom to top, that all six transept portals and their porches were erected at the same time, and that the sculptures of the north portals were fin- ished by 1208: James, Contractors of Chartres (see n. 3), 33–52. James’s thesis is still under debate. 31 Chartres was damaged during the One Hundred Years’ War, during the religious wars of the 16th century (largely limited to the west façade), and the French Revolution. The Judgment of Solomon is scarcely documented; however, it is widely assumed that the relief today reflects its original state. This conviction is reinforced by Léon Gaucherel’s engravings from the second half of the nineteenth century. See Paul Durand, Notre-Dame de Chartres (Paris: Édition Molière, 2006), plate XVIII. For a seminal study of the different phases of resto- rations, see Arnaud Timbert, ed., Chartres, construire et restaurer le cathédrale XIe–XXIe siècle (Villeneuve d’Ascq: Presses Universitaires du Septentrion, 2014), 108, esp. n. 55. 32 Katzenellenbogen, Sculptural Programs (see n. 3), 68. 33 One might argue that a similar stratagem can be found in the Apocalypse Manuscripts, where St. John steps out of the frame and gazes and directs his gestures at the viewer. However, it is not only a question of a different medium, but also of a different form of invitation; in the manuscript, St. John is the narrator of the vision, whereas in the sculptured tympanum, the beholder is narrating his own vision. See: Richard K. Emmerson and Bernard McGinn, eds. The Apocalypse in the Middle Ages (Ithaca and London: Cornell University Press, 1992); idem, “Visualizing Performance: The Miniatures of the Besançon MS 579 (Jour du Jugement),” Ex- emplaria 11 (1999): 245–84; Suzanne Lewis, Reading Images: Narrative Discourse and Re- ception in the Thirteenth-Century Illuminated Apocalypse (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1995); Pamela Sheingorn, “Performing the Illuminated Manuscript: Great Reckoning in Little Books,” in Visualizing Medieval Performance, ed. Elina Gertsman (Aldershot: Ashgate, 2008), 57–82; Karyln Griffith, “Performative Reading and Receiving a Performance of the Jour du Jugement in MS Besançon 579,” Comparative Drama 45, no. 2 (2001): 99–126. 34 Natalie C. Schmitt, “The Body in Motion in the York Adam and Eve in Eden,” in Gesture in Medieval Drama and Art, ed. Clifford Davidson (Kalamazoo, MI: Medieval Institute Pub- lications, Western Michigan University, 2001): 158–77, at 168. For the iconography of the Judgment of Solomon, see Louis Réau, Iconographie de l’art chrétien 3 vols. (Paris: Presses Universitaire de France, 1955), 2:289–91. 35 Sauerländer, Gothic Sculpture (see n. 3), 436. 36 In his discussion of the portals of the west façade of Amiens Cathedral (ca. 1230), Stephen Murray has shown that the life-size figures of saints and prophets served as role models to encourage changes in behavior, while at the same time inviting the beholders’ participation. Moreover, Murray has also shown that the same rhetoric and persuasiveness functioned in both sermons and visual apparatuses and played their roles in shaping their audiences’ behav- iors and conveying Catholic dogma to the rural population. Stephen Murray, A Gothic Sermon: Making a Contract with the Mother of God, Saint Mary of Amiens (Berkeley, Los Angeles, and London: University of California Press, 2004); He further investigated the rhetoric of the Gothic in idem, Plotting Gothic (Chicago and London: University of Chicago Press, 2015). 37 For other representations of the two mothers as Ecclesia and Synagoga, see Gertrud Schiller, Iconography of Christian Art, trans. Janet Seligman, 5 vols. (London: Lund Humphries, 1971), 4:45–68. Mediaevistik 31 . 2018 107

38 Augustine, Sermon X, in Migne, Patrologia Latina 38 (1865): col. 92. 39 Bernhard Blumenkranz and Jean Châtillon, “De la Polémique antijuive à la catéchèse chréti- enne: L’objet, le contenu et les sources d’une anonyme Altercatio Synagogae et Ecclesiae du XIIe siècle,” Recherches de Théologie ancienne et médiévale 23 (1956): 40–60; Nina Rowe, The Jews, the Cathedral and the Medieval City: Synagoga and Ecclesia in the Thirteenth Century (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2011), 49–51, esp. n. 28. 40 Laura Hollengreen proposed that the true mother is the one on the right as the servant is returning the child to her while the false one is being relegated more to the background. Hollengreen, “Living Testimony,” (see n. 7), 186–90; this possible reading was accepted by Roland Halfen, Chartres: Schöpfungsbau und Ideenwelt im Herzen Europas, 4 vols. (Stuttgart and Berlin: Mayer, 2001), 2:163–243, at 171–73, while rejected by Büchsel who claimed for the opposing identification of the two mothers. See Martin Büchsel, Die Skulptur des Querhauses der Kathedrale von Chartres (Berlin: Gebrüder Mann, 1995), 53–117, at 61–62. See also Selim Abdul-Hak, La sculpture des porches du transept de la cathédrale de Chartres (Paris: Éditions de Boccard, 1942), 88–114, at 102. See also the latest discussion on the subject in Jacqueline E. Jung, “Moving Viewers, Moving Pictures: The Portal as Montage on the Strasbourg South Transept,” in Mouvement. Bewegung, eds. Andreas Beyer and Guillaume Cassegrain (Berlin and Munich: Deutscher Kunstverlag, 2015): 23–44. 41 Carol A. Hinds, “The Judgment of Solomon: An Iconographical Motif in Early Medieval Art” (Ph.D. diss., University of Maryland, 1994), 173. 42 Today there is a fourth medallion above the story of the Judgment, in which an angel appears; it is probably a part of the Tree of Jesse window. However, Louis Grodecki believed that the fourth medallion had a different theme and would have changed the relationship between the three medallions of the Judgment: Grodecki, Le Vitrail Roman (Fribourg: Office du livre, 1977), 149–85, at n. 144 and 174. Hans Reinhardt has argued that the image of Solomon was influenced by a sixth-century Byzantine work in Ravenna or from the twelfth-century Palermo examples. See Hans Reinhardt, La Cathédrale de Strasbourg (Paris: Arthaud, 1972); Daniel Parello, “Les vitraux de la Cathédrale de Strasbourg au XIVe siècle,” Revue de L’Art 172 (2011): 11–22. For the a seminal study of Strasbourg’s stained-glas windows, see Victor Beyer et al., Les vitraux de la Cathédrale de Strasbourg (Paris: Centre National de la Recherche Scientifique, 1986) Françoise Gatouillat, “Les vitraux, enluminures de la cathédrale,” in Doré (Mgr Joseph), (dir.), Strasbourg. La grâce d’une cathédrale (Strasbourg: La Nuée Bleue/ DNA, 2007), 218–51; Daniel Parello, “Une rencontre interculturelle: les vitraux du transept de la cathédrale de Strasbourg, entre continuité et mutation,” in Strasbourg 1200–1230: la révolution gothique, eds. Cécile Dupeux and Jean Wirth (Strasbourg: Editions des musées de Strasbourg, 2015), 102–17. 43 Kerry Paul Boeye, “Mutable Authority: Reimagining King Solomon in Medieval Psalm Illustration” (Ph.D. diss., University of Chicago, 2010), 194–212, at 201. 44 There are two windows in the north transept with four medallions in each: the first window is dedicated to the Judgment of Solomon (described above), whereas the second depicts the figures of Solomon with David, Solomon with the Queen of Sheba, John the Baptist with St. John, and above it the Virgin Mary. In general, the Strasbourg stained-glass window program is rich and can be divided into three themes: emperors, martyrs and bishops, and historical themes of the Old and New Testaments. Victor Guerber, Essai sur les Vitraux de la Cathédrale de Strasbourg (Strasbourg: Le Roux L.F, 1848), 21–32. 45 This manuscript is dated to 1210–1220. See Peter H. Breiger, English Art, 1216–1307 (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1957); Elfrida O. Saunders, English Illumination (Paris: Pegasus, 1928); Nigel J. Morgan, Early Gothic Manuscripts 1190–1250 (London: Harvey Miller Publisher, 1982). 108 Mediaevistik 31 . 2018

46 For a study on Strasbourg’s south portal, see Bernd Nicolai, “Orders in Stone: Social Reality and Artistic Approach: The Case of the Strasbourg South Portal,” Gesta 41, no. 2 (2002): 111–28; Rowe, The Jew, the Cathedral (see n. 39), 191–237, at 235. Accordingly, the south portal was the court of justice where trials were held. Finally, a late thirteenth-century monumental example can be traced in Auxerre Cathedral on the west facade, to the right of John’s Portal; yet, even on this elaborate scale, there is no direct address to the beholders and the function of the male figure at the right side of the scene is not clear. On Auxerre Cathedral, see Charles Porèe, La Cathédrale d’Auxerre (Paris: Henri Laurens, 1926); Claude Schaefer, “Le Relief du Judgment de Salomon à la Façade de la Cathédrale d’Auxerre,” Gazette des Beaux-Arts 26 (1944): 183–94; Don Denny, “Some Narrative Subjects in the Portal Sculpture of Auxerre Cathedral,” Speculum 51 (1976): 23–34; Virginia C. Raguin, “Mid-Thirteenth Century Patronage at Auxerre and the Sculptural Program of the Cathedral,” Studies in Ico- nography 14 (1995): 131–51; Christian Sapin, Saint- Étienne d’Auxerre: la seconde vie d’une cathédrale (Paris: Centre d’Etudes Médiévales Saint-Germain (Auxerre), Picard, 2011). 47 Sauerländer, Gothic Sculpture (see n. 3), 442. 48 Meyer Schapiro argued that the profile face “is detached from the viewer and belongs to the body in action (…) while the face turned outward is credited with intentness, a latent or potential glance directed to the observer, and corresponds to the role of ‘I’ in speech, with complementary ‘you.’” The inviting figure thus fits Schapiro’s argument and is an example of it in stone: Schapiro, Words, Script and Pictures: Semiotics of Visual Language (New York: George Braziller, 1996), 69–114, at 73. 49 See the first part of the article and n. 18. 50 Matilda T. Bruckner, “The Shape of Romance in Medieval France,” in Roberta L. Krueger, ed., The Cambridge Companion to Medieval Romance (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2000), 13–28, at 14. See also Stuart Whatling, “Narrative Art in Northern Europe, c.1140–1300” (Ph.D. diss., The Courtauld Institute, 2010), accessed December 15, 2016, http://www.medievalart.org.uk/PhD/Contents.html. 51 Chrétien de Troyes, Arthurian Romances, trans. William W. Comfort (London: Everyman’s Library, 1975), 1–90. Erec and Enide was the first Arthurian romance written by Chrétien de Troyes. There are 31 surviving manuscripts of his works, only two of which contain all five works: Erec, Cligès, Lancelot, Yvain, and Perceval. For studies on Erec and Enide, see Leslie T. Topsfield, Chrétien de Troyes: A Study of Arthurian Romances (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1981), 23–63; Per Nykrog, Chrétien de Troyes romancier dis- cutable (Genève: Librairie Droz, 1996), 53–79; Philippe Walter, Chrétien de Troyes (Paris: Presses Universitaire de France, 1997), 65–72; Donald Maddox and Sara Sturm-Maddox, “Erec and Enid: The First Arthurian Romance,” in A Companion to Chrétien de Troyes, ed. Norris J. Lacy and Joan Tasker Grimbert (Cambridge: D. S. Brewer, 2005), 103–19. See also the general study by Joseph J. Duggan, The Romances of Chrétien de Troyes (New Haven, CT, and London: Yale University Press, 2001). 52 Chrétien de Troyes, Arthurian Romances (see n. 51), 11. 53 Chrétien de Troyes, Arthurian Romances (see n. 51), 25. 54 For a seminal study on the senses in medieval art, see Éric Palazzo, Les cinq sens au Moyen Âge (Paris: Les éditions du Cerf, 2016). 55 Chrétien de Troyes, Arthurian Romances (see n. 51), 12. 56 Chrétien de Troyes, Arthurian Romances (see n. 51), 27. 57 Chrétien de Troyes, Arthurian Romances (see n. 51), 89. 58 Iser, Act of Reading (see n. 27), 107–08. 59 Anonymous, The Romance of Floire et Blanchefleur, A French Idyllic Poem of the Twelfth Century, trans. Morton J. Hubert (Chapel Hill, NC: University of North Carolina, 1966), 23– 111. The exact dating of this poem is uncertain since there are several versions of the text. Mediaevistik 31 . 2018 109

However, it is accepted today that the first ‘aristocratic’ version appeared in 1160 or 1170. For a discussion of the anonymous author and the origin of the story, see Joachim Reinhold, Floire et Blancheflor étude de littérature comparée (Geneva: Slatkine Reprints, 1970), 7–15; Patricia E. Grieve, Floire and Blancheflor and the European Romance (Cambridge: Cambridge Uni- versity Press, 1997), 15–50. 60 Anonymous, Floire et Blanchefleur(see n. 59), 46. 61 Anonymous, Floire et Blanchefleur(see n. 59), 76. 62 According to Grieve, the trial scene is “an important step between Floire’s quest for Blancheflor and the final harmonizing of love story and religious tale that follows the imprisonment of the lovers (…) the meaning of ‘conseil’ is most often judicious counsel, wisdom, an example of the power of intellect and reasoning…” For an analysis of the story, see Patricia E. Grieve, Floire and Blancheflor (see n. 59), 52–85, at 77; for a recent critical edition of Konrad Fleck’s version, see Christine Putzo, Konrad Fleck: ‘Flore und Blanscheflur’. Text und Untersuchungen. Münchener Texte und Untersuchungen zur deutschen Literatur des Mittelalters, 143 (Berlin, Munich, and Boston: Walter De Gruyter, 2015). 63 Anonymous, Floire et Blanchefleur(see n. 59), 96. 64 Paul Zumthor, Toward a Medieval Poetics, trans. Philipp Bennett (Minneapolis, MN: Univer- sity of Minnesota Press, 1992), 3–39. 65 For studies on reception of art, see Barbara Nolan, The Gothic Visionary Perspective (Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 1977); Michael Camille, The Gothic Idol: Ideology and Image-Making in Medieval Art (New York: Cambridge University Press, 1989); Freedberg, Power of Images, 99–135; Suzanne Lewis, Reading Images: Narrative Discourse and Reception in the Thirteenth-Century Illuminated Apocalypse (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1995); Herbert L. Kessler, Spiritual Seeing: Picturing God’s Invisibility an Medieval Art (Philadelphia, PA: University of Pennsylvania Press, 2000); Robert S. Nelson, ed. Visuality Before and Beyond the Renaissance: Seeing as Others Saw (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2000); Madeleine Harisson Caviness, Art in the Medieval West and its Audience (Aldershot and Burlington, VT: Ashgate, 2001); Suzannah Biernoff, Sight and Embodiment in the Middle Ages (Basingstoke: Palgrave Macmillan, 2002), 1–13; Herbert L. Kessler, Seeing Medieval Art (Peterborough, Ont.: Broadview Press, 2004); Jeffrey F. Hamburger and Anne-Marie Bouché, eds. The Mind’s Eye: Art and Theological Argument in the Middle Ages (Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 2005); Roland Recht, Believing and Seeing, The Art of Gothic Cathedrals (Chicago, IL: University of Chicago Press, 2008). 66 Joan T. Grimbert, ed., Tristan and Isolde: A Casebook. Arthurian Characters and Themes (New York: Garland Publication, 1995), xxi. 67 Assaf Pinkus, “Imaginative Response to Gothic Sculpture: The Bamberg Rider,” Viator 45, no. 1 (2014): 1–30. 68 Bruckner, “The Shape of Romance (see n. 50),” 16–17. 69 Le Jeu d’Adam, trans. Richard Axton and John Stevens, in Medieval French Plays (Oxford: Basil Blackwell, 1971), 3–44. The play, written in vernacular contains the Fall of Adam and Eve, Cain’s murder of Abel, and a Procession of the Prophets. 70 William Tydeman, The Theatre in the Middle Ages: Western European Stage Conditions, c. 800–1576 (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1978), 121–65, at 121; David M. Bevington, Medieval Drama (Boston, MA: Houghton Mifflin Company, 1975), 75–121. 71 Karl Young, The Drama of the Medieval Church, 4 vols. (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1962), 2:397–426, at 399. 72 Le Jeu d’Adam, (see n. 69),17. 73 Le Jeu d’Adam (see n. 69), 18. 110 Mediaevistik 31 . 2018

74 Janet Schrunk Ericksen, “Offering the Forbidden Fruit in MS Junius 11,” in Gesture in Medieval Drama and Art, ed. Clifford Davidson (Kalamazoo, MI: Medieval Institute Publi- cations, Western Michigan University, 2001), 48–65, at 50. 75 Jacqueline E. Jung, “Dynamic Bodies and the Beholder’s Share: The Wise and Foolish Vir- gins of Magdeburg Cathedral,” in Bild und Körper im Mittelalter, ed. Kristin Marek et al. (Munich: Wilhelm Fink, 2006): 135–60. For further reading on emotions and gestures in the Middle Ages, see Moshe Barasch, Gestures of Despair in Medieval and Early Renaissance Art (New York: New York University Press, 1976); François Garnier, Le langage de l’image aux Moyen Âge: signification et symbolique (Paris: Léopard d’Or, 1982); Jean-Claude Schmitt, La raison de gestes dans l’Occident médiévale, (Paris: Gallimard, 1990); Barbara H. Rosenwein, ed. Anger’s Past: The Social Use of an Emotion in the Middle Ages (Ithaca and London: Cornell University Press, 1998). I borrow the term ‘interactive environment’ from Jung, “Dynamic Bodies,” 140. 76 Jacqueline E. Jung, “Beyond the Barrier: The Unifying Role of the Choir Screen in Gothic Churches,” The Art Bulletin 82, no. 4 (2000): 622–57, at 636. Jung relies on Roland Barthes’s definition of the reality effect, which she explains as “the use of intrinsically insignificant concrete details solely to heighten the verisimilitude – and, hence, immediacy and impact – of a narrative.” See Roland Barthes, The Rustle of Languages, trans. Richard Howard (Berkeley, CA: University of California Press, 1986), 33–48. 77 Susan L’Engle, “The Pro-Active Reader: Learning to Learn the Law,” in Medieval Manu- scripts, Their Makers and Users: A Special Issue of Viator in Honor of Richard and Mary Rouse, ed. Christopher Baswell (Turnhout: Brepols, 2011), 51–76, at 54. 78 L’Engle, “Pro-Active Reader,” (see n. 77), 53. 79 In ancient Rome, the Roman law was the legal system that served as the basis for legal theory in medieval Europe. It was compiled under Emperor Justinian. This text is known as Corpus iuris civilis. The Digestum was part of this work. See Joanna Fronsaka, “Turning the Pages of Legal Manuscripts: Reading and Remembering the Law,” in Meaning in Motion: The Semantics of Movement in Medieval Art, eds. Nino Zchomelidse and Giovanni Freni (Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 2010), 191–214. 80 L’Engle, “Pro-Active Reader,” (see n. 77), 53. 81 For connections between the university of Bologna and Paris, see Walter Cahn, “The Tympanum of the Portal of Saint-Anne at Notre Dame de Paris and the Iconography of the Division of the Powers in the Early Middle Ages,” Journal of the Warburg and Courtauld Institutes 32 (1969): 55–72; Fassler, “Liturgy and Sacred,” (see n. 2), 499–520. 82 Susan L’Engle, “Addressing the Law: Costume as Signifier in Medieval Legal Manuscripts,” in Encountering Medieval Textiles and Dress; Objects, Texts, Images, eds. Désirée G. Koslin and Janet E. Snyder (New York: Palgrave Macmillan, 2002), 137–53, at 137. 83 L’Engle, “Addressing the Law (see n. 82), 142. 84 The pileus is the hat of the medieval lawyer. See Fronsaka, “Turning the Pages,” (see n. 79), 199. 85 Thomasin von Zerklaere, Der Welsche Gast: Text (Auswahl), Übersetzung, Stellenkommen- tar, ed. Eva K. Willms (Berlin and New York: Walter de Gruyter, 2004). For a rich study on the Welsche Gast, see Thomasin von Zirclaria, Der Welsche Gast, trans. Marion Gibbs and Winder McConnell (Kalamazoo, MI: Western Michigan University, 2010), 1–33. The Welsche Gast – i.e., The Italian Guest – was composed in 1215. This didactic work addresses both lay and religious nobility of Germany and is composed of ten books, each dedicated to another aspect of correct behavior, justice, etc. In Book Nine the author’s main focus is on the theme of justice. Accordingly, justice must be applied equally to every person – rich or poor – and all must enjoy equal representation in a court of law. Similar representations of the pileus can be found in the famous Sachsenspiegel (Saxon Mirror) – the law book and Mediaevistik 31 . 2018 111

custumal of the Holy Roman Empire – believed to be compiled by Eike of Repgow in 1235, first in Latin, and later translated into Middle Low German. In the Heidelberg version from the beginning of the fourteenth century, the manuscript is replete with illustrations of the judge wearing the pileus (Cod. Pal. germ. 164, fols. 7v, 10v, 16r). For the Heidelberg manuscript, see http://heidicon.ub.uni-heidelberg.de/pool/palatina/sig/germ.%20164, accessed October 3, 2017. While this paper does not discuss the similarities and differences between these law systems and their visualizations, the manuscript’s illustrations are still of great value for the relief at Chartres, which as I argue, refers to systems of law and their represent- atives. For an English study of the Sachsenspiegel and a rich bibliography on the subject, see The Saxon Mirror: A Sachsenspiegel of the Fourteenth Century, trans. Maria Dobozy (Philadelphia, PA: University of Pennsylvania Press, 1999). 86 Fronsaka, “Turning the Pages,” (see n. 79), 199. 87 For a seminal study on the Ingeborg Psalter, see Florens Deuchler, Der Ingeborgpsalter (Berlin: De Gruyter, 1967); idem, “The Artists of the Ingeborg Psalter,” Gesta 9, no. 2 (1970): 57–58. 88 Recht, Believing and Seeing (see n. 65), 195–262, at 240. 89 Recht, Believing and Seeing (see n. 65), 247. 90 Moshe Barasch, Giotto and the Language of Gesture (New York and London: Cambridge University Press, 1987), 15–39, at 22–25. 91 See n. 37. 92 Crossley, “Ductus and Memoria,” (see n. 7), 214–49, at 223. 93 As discussed by Otto von Simson, The Gothic Cathedral: The Origin of Gothic Architecture and the Medieval Concept of Order (London: Routledge and Kegan Paul, 1956), 159–82, at 182; Nicolai, “Orders in Stone,” (see n. 46), 111–28, and more recently by Rowe, The Jew, the Cathedral (see n. 39), 191–237. 94 Rowe, The Jew, the Cathedral (see n. 39), 234. 95 Augustine used the term adiutrix diabolic, the devil’s helper, to describe Job’s wife. He also suggested that she blasphemed against God. “Sermo de Symbolo ad Catechumenos,” accessed January 11, 2016, http://www.augustinus.it/latino/simbolo_catecumeni/index.html. Gregory the Great interpreted her as another test to be overcome by Job and, basing himself on Augustine, he focused a great deal on the mouth of Job’s wife and on the connection between Adam, who was tempted by Eve, and Job, who was deceived by his wife. Gregory the Great, Moralia in Job, in Migne, Patrologia Latina 43 (1841): col. 82–108. For a discussion on the role of Job’s wife, see Katherine Low, The Bible, Gender, and Reception Theory: The Case of Job’s Wife (London: Bloomsbury, 2013), 29–55; Zefira Gitya, “The Portrayal of Job’s Wife and Her Representation in the Visual Arts,” in Fortunate the Eyes that See: Essays in Honor of David Noel Freedman in Celebration of His Seventieth Birthday, eds. Astrid B. Beck et al. (Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans, 1995), 516–26. 96 Peter de Roissy was the chancellor of the cathedral chapter of Chartres at the beginning of the thirteenth-century and probably influenced the iconographic program of this portal. See Paul Williamson, Gothic Sculpture 1140–1300 (New Haven and London: Yale University Press, 1995), 11–65, at 39. For a long period Peter de Roissy was confused with Peter of Blois. See Jean Barthélémy Hauréau, “Des chanceliers de Chartres appelés Pierre,” Comptes rendue des séances de l’Académie des Inscriptions et Belles-Lettres, 16ème années (1872): 440–53. Neither Katzenellenbogen nor Williamson gives references to Roissy’s work. See V. L. Kennedy, “The Handbook of Master Peter, Chancellor of Chartres,” Mediaeval Studies 5 (1943): 1–38; Stephan Kuttner, “Pierre de Roissy and Robert of Flamborough,” Traditio 2 (1944): 492–99; Marie-Thérèse d’Alverny, “Les Mystères de l’église, d’après Pierre de Roissy,” in Mélanges offerts à René Crozet, eds. Pierre Gallais and Yves-Jean Riou, 2 vols. (Poitiers: Société d’Etudes Médiévales, 1966), 2:1085–104; Alberto Forni, “La ‘Nouvelle 112 Mediaevistik 31 . 2018

prédication’ des disciples de Foulques de Neuilly: Intentions, techniques et réactions,” in Faire croire: modalités de la diffusion et de la réception des messages religieux du XIIe au Xve siècle: table ronde, Rome, 22–23 juin 1979, organisée par l’Ecole française de Rome, en collaboration avec l’Institut d’histoire médiévale de l’Université de Padoue (Rome: Ecole française de Rome; Torino, Bottega d’Erasmo, 1981), 19–37. 97 Büchsel, “Salomon Portal in Chartres,” (see n. 7), 83–116. Accordingly, the Job-Solomon portal is to be understand in the context of the fight against the Albigensian; thus, it is a commentary to the other portals and presents a universal program emphasizing the Judgment, the Passion, victory and mediation. 98 Mary J. Carruthers, The Experience of Beauty in the Middle Ages (Oxford: Oxford Univer- sity Press, 2013), 45–79, at 53; eadem, “The Sociable Text of the “Troilus Frontispiece”: A Different Mode of Textuality,” ELH: Journal of English Literary History 81, no. 2 (2014): 423–41. Augustine, De Trinitate, 2 vol., ed. W. J. Mountain, Corpus Christianorum: Series Latina 50–50A (Turnholt: Typographi Brepolis Editoris Pontificii, 1968). 99 The author, Gratian, was a scholar and probably a teacher at Bologna University and pos- sibly a monk. This work of an individual scholar was modified later by others who commented on it, all seeking to make sense of the law of the Church. See Katherine Christensen, Gratian: The Treatise on Laws (Decretum DD. 1–20), trans. Augustine Thompson, O.P. (Washington, DC: Catholic University of America Press, 1993), ix–xxvii. 100 Dougherty, Moral Dilemmas (see n. 12), 13. On Gratian and the law, see Stephen Kuttner, Gratian and the Schools of Law, 1140–1234 (London: Variorum Reprints, 1983), 12–74. 101 Dougherty, Moral Dilemmas, (see n. 12), 41–84, at 43. William of Auxerre, Summa aurea, ed. Jean Ribaillier, 7 vols. (Paris: Editions du Centre National de la Recherche Scientifique 1980–87), 1:1–24. 102 Dougherty, Moral Dilemmas (see n. 12), 41–48. 103 Dougherty, Moral Dilemmas (see n. 12), 41–48. 104 The University of Paris was established in 1215. André Tuilier, Histoire de l’université de Paris et de la Sorbonne (Paris: Nouvelle Librairie de France, 1994), 1: 41–67. 105 Alexander of Hales, Summa theologica, ed. Quaracchi, 4 vols. (Florence: Typographia Collegii S. Bonaventurae, 1924–48), 1:7–8. Although Alexander of Hale’s Summa Hale- siana post-dates the sculptured portal, it is still of great value to the discussion, as it shows that the theme of moral dilemma was a major concern, which continued well toward the end of the thirteenth century. I am aware of the debate regarding the question of authorship of the Summa Halesiana, which was raised in the nineteenth-century; however, today it is acceptable to consider Alexander of Hales as its author. See Dougherty, Moral Dilemmas, (see n. 12), 48–50. 106 The compendium is known as the Statement of the Terms of Theology (Declaratio terminorum theologiae). See Bonaventure, Opera omnia, ed. A. C. Peltier (Paris: Vives, 1864–1871), 237. I follow Dougherty’s translation, Moral Dilemmas (see n. 12), 7. 107 The two texts reveal five spiritual perplexities in common: “The Fornicating Priest Dilemma,” “The Simoniacal Priest at Mass Dilemma,” “The Poor Parents Dilemma,” “The Hermit’s Di- lemma,” and “The Latrine of the Devil Dilemma.” The first two deal with perplexities that arise while celebrating the Mass; the next two are related to vows taken that cannot be fulfilled; and the last is related to the priest and the unrepentant sinner. Dougherty, Moral Dilemmas (see n. 12), 58–84. 108 Dougherty, Moral Dilemmas (see n. 12), 58–84. There are some particular examples given in each work: William wrote about “The Pretend Priest Dilemma,” when one approaching the point of consecration is in a perplexus situation, and “The Chanting Deacon Dilemma,” when one is supposed to assist a priest who is known to have a mistress. Alexander’s examples, which do not appear in the Summa aurea, are: “The Simoniacal Office Dilemma” deals Mediaevistik 31 . 2018 113

with one who is promoted to an ecclesiastical office by means of simony, and “The Worldly Superior Dilemma,” where a man is in perplexus since he has renounced the world and is supposed to follow his superior, who has put him in a dilemmatic situation. The two examples given by William are seen as instances that do not necessarily cause a second moral failure. Alexander’s examples are borrowed from Gregory the Great’s Moralia and are seen as more moderate than Gregory’s. 109 Dougherty, Moral Dilemmas (see n. 12), 72–73. 110 The other three cases given by William are: „The Heretic’s Money Dilemma,“ „The Mo- nastery Dilemma,“ and „The Food Dilemma.“ The four remaining dilemmas set forth by Alexander are: „The Homicidal Adulterer Dilemma,“ „The Hiding Fugitive Dilemma,“ „The Eater’s Dilemma,“ and „The Venial Sin Dilemma.“ Dougherty, Moral Dilemmas (see n. 12), 75–80.