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The inclusion of the liberal arts in the sculptural programmes of a handful of twelfth-century French church façades proclaimed the importance of education as a means of understanding God and his creation.¹ The arts of grammar, rhetoric, dialectic, arithmetic, music, geometry and astronomy also appeared in contemporary metalwork and manuscripts, which were visible to a more restricted audience. Of the seven arts which represented a classical tradition of education, however, only one, the art of grammar, was sometimes represented as a teacher. In the famous example on the south portal of the west façade of Chartres cathedral, probably made c.1145-1150, the personified figure of Grammar carried a book and an instrument of discipline, whilst two students were gathered at her knees (Fig. 1).

Fig. 1: Grammar, Chartres cathedral, west façade, south portal, author photograph.

The decision to depict the art apparently in the act of instruction paralleled other images of children learning to read, which appeared in increasing numbers and in a range of contexts in the second half of the century. In addition to the representations of Grammar, King Solomon could be seen training small pupils in Bibles, and scenes of young students learning their letters or poring over books began to be included in illustrated lives of saints executed in manuscripts, sculpture, stained glass and metalwork.² At first glance these images may appear to reflect contemporary schooling, and they have often been identified as scenes of teaching by modern scholars.³ However, the allegorical, biblical, and hagiographic subjects of these images betray the fact that all these scenes present idealised educational experiences. Thus the images may be read as sources for ideas about educational practice. The book and the instrument of discipline in the allegory of Grammar at Chartres resonate with two recurrent themes in medieval writing about children's education; the need to learn letters and to master correct behaviour.⁴ This study will concentrate on images of Grammar, both as a teacher and in other guises, to examine what they reveal about the process, significance and applications of learning to read, and the role of discipline in that process. Drawing on contemporary written accounts about education, it will also consider what information the images contain about how they should be read, and who was intended to read them.

Personifications of the liberal arts seem first to have appeared in texts. Martianus Capella's fifth-century allegory of The Marriage of Mercury and Philology included a description of the seven liberal arts in which the disciplines were presented as allegorical female figures. Grammar was described as an old woman in a Roman cloak, carrying a box of medical implements with which to correct the faults of children.⁵ Thus as Michael Evans argued, this text was not the sole source for the subsequent diverse visual representations of the arts.⁶ Nevertheless, Martianus Capella's text was widely read by the educated elite of the twelfth century and was cited by the English scholar, and later bishop of Chartres, John of Salisbury in his 1159 book on education, the Metalogicon. John explained the allegory thus; '[Grammar] uses the knife to prune away grammatical errors, and to cleanse the tongues of infants as she instructs them. [...] Grammar employs her rod to punish offenders; while with the ointment of the propriety and utility which derive from her services, she mitigates the sufferings of her patients'.⁷ Whilst he noted the tradition of Grammar's medicine, John thus chose to emphasise the art's role as a teacher, providing a more straight-forward interpretation of the art by linking the medicinal properties with classroom practices. Even in this text intended for those interested in education, therefore, the identification of Grammar as a teacher presumably made her easier to recognise and interpret, and this must also have been the case for those unable to access texts, who perhaps encountered the art solely in visual images.

Nevertheless, some twelfth-century artists chose to depict Grammar with a bowl intended for the preparation of medicines. In the sculpted cycle of the liberal arts in the archivolt of the western doorway at Loches, probably executed in the 1150s, Grammar holds a chalice or bowl and this attribute appears again at the end of the twelfth century in a manuscript made at Aldersbach (now Munich Bayerisches Staatsbibliothek Clm. 2599, f.102).⁸ In the later example the contents of the bowl seem particularly potent, as flames appear at the top (Fig. 2).

Fig. 2: Grammar and Priscian, Munich Bayerische Staatsbibliothek Clm. 2599, f.102, © Bayerische Staatsbibliothek München.

Grammar is joined by the author Priscian and both hold ends of a scroll which reads 'Per me scribendi patet ars recteque loquendi' ('Through me he opens the art of writing and speaking correctly'), directly associating Grammar and her bowl with learning Latin. Yet, despite this brief written account of the art's role, in these schemes the viewer was required to bring a level of knowledge to the image in order to recognise the significance of Grammar's attribute. Moreover, at Loches, where the figure was not labelled, but was visible to a diverse audience as they entered the church, the viewer would have to have been educated in the iconographic tradition in order to recognise her at all.

A third image of Grammar with a bowl also seems to require the viewer to bring particular knowledge to the image. In the depiction of the seven liberal arts being nourished by streams flowing from Philosophy on a detached leaf now in the Morgan Library in New York (MS M.982), in addition to a bowl Grammar carries a long thin object, which is rounded at one end and has a protrusion at the other (Fig. 3).

Fig. 3: The Liberal Arts and Philosophy, New York Morgan Library MS M.982. See here.

As Adolf Katzellenbogen suggested, this may be a key, echoing the comment made by Augustine and John of Salisbury that Grammar was the key to learning.⁹ On the reverse of the leaf, however, the figure appears for a second time, accompanied by a creature with horns and hooves, which brings her plants (Fig. 4).

Fig. 4: Grammar and a faun, New York Morgan Library MS M.982v. See here.

This creature has puzzled scholars, leading some to suggest that the female figure here is not Grammar.¹⁰ Robert Forrer suggested that the creature was a faun, but could only explain its presence in the image as a pagan figure joining the wise arts in a dance.¹¹ However, Adelard of Bath's description of the allegorised figure of Grammar stated that she taught men to speak when they were like wild beasts.¹² Moreover, Isidore of Seville's etymology for the word faun declared, 'Fauns were so called from 'speaking' [...] because by voice, not by signs, they seemed to show what was to come – for they were consulted by pagans in sacred groves, and gave responses to them not with signs, but with their voices'.¹³ This creature seems to be such a faun, being taught language by the art of Grammar and carrying a scroll on which to record his progress, whilst also providing medicinal plants. In this the couple resemble the other three pairs on the reverse of the leaf, as the personified arts of Arithmetic, Astronomy and Music also teach male figures. Because this leaf is now detached it is impossible to know whether it was followed by further images or what the accompanying text might have been. Nevertheless, the imagery associated with Grammar here does not seem to find a parallel in any single source. This leaf is thus a remarkable survival, which (like the depictions of Grammar with medicine bowls) reflects choices other than the classroom available to artists exploring the subject of grammar. Moreover, it suggests that some artists were aware of writing about education, and expected their viewers to be able to recognise and understand a diverse and complex iconography closely associated with written texts.

In contrast, one artist, probably working in northern France c.1100, left little to the viewer's prior knowledge when he set out his ideas about Grammar in a full page image accompanied by verses (Fig. 5).

Fig. 5: Grammar, Florence Biblioteca Medicea Laurenziana S. Marco MS 190, f.15v, su concessione del Ministero per i Beni e le Attività Culturali e’ vietata ogni ulteriore riproduzione con qualsiasi mezzo.

On f.15v of a volume of Martianus Capella's allegorical text measuring 26.7 by 18.7 cm (now Florence Biblioteca Medicea Laurenziana San Marco MS 190), Grammar is depicted as a teacher, with an open book, scourge and scraper in her right hand and a collection of writing implements in a circle in her left, perhaps representing the top of the table next to her. Below are a group of male figures, who hold up objects towards Grammar and are presumably her pupils. This manuscript also includes images of the other six arts, again accompanied by verses, at the start of the texts associated with each. As Evans noted, the decision to show Grammar with teaching equipment marked a departure from Martianus Capella's text.¹⁴ This choice may have been inspired by the interpretation of Martianus Capella's figure as a teacher, as later recorded by John of Salisbury. John was not the first to make this connection, as a ninth-century gloss by Remigius of Auxerre had identified the medicine box as a whip or instrument of punishment (flagellum).¹⁵ Whilst at first glance this image might appear to be a plausible classroom scene, however, its position in a copy of Martianus Capella's text and the lines at the top of the page, together with the disproportionately large female figure of the teacher, make clear that this is an allegory.

The text which accompanies the image has received little attention in modern literature, but it contains an instruction about how the picture is to be understood. The verses may be translated as follows;

Here the act of learning grammar is directly associated with careful and attentive looking. The importance of vision as a tool for the study of the art was recorded in other twelfth-century texts. For example, John of Salisbury commented that 'this art [...] imparts the fundamental elements of language, and also trains our faculties of sight and hearing'.¹⁷ John was discussing letters or written symbols which he said, 'stand for things, which they conduct into the mind through the windows of the eyes'.¹⁸ Gilbert Crispin, Abbot of Westminster from 1085-1117, went further and noted, in connection with the subject of image worship, that 'Just as letters are shapes and symbols of spoken words, pictures exist as representations and symbols of writing'.¹⁹ In this case, therefore, the picture and text are presented as being instructive, and the text and image are apparently to be read in similar ways.

The importance of looking is also referred to in the image itself, where with one exception all the pupils have their faces upturned towards the figure of Grammar. The students hold out a variety of objects designed to be written on, presumably recording Grammar's teaching. Some are curved at the top and have a slit in the middle, echoing the form of writing tablets. In addition, some figures hold rectangular objects, which may be pieces of parchment onto which to copy their efforts. Aelfric Bata's Colloquies, a collection of texts written c.1000 and designed to teach basic vocabulary, described students writing on a 'tablet, or on a vellum scrap or on a parchment or in a quire', reflecting different kinds of writing associated with study, from note-taking to the production of a finished book.²⁰ In the image, the central figure holds up a cylindrical object, which may be a scroll. Next to him one figure demonstrates the use of all these objects by writing on a larger surface, possibly a scroll or tablet, which is also curved at one end. Even he, however, turns his eyes upwards to the figure of Grammar. This detail may suggest that the student's ability to write is derived from Grammar, but the image provides no insight into how the process of writing was to be learnt.

Whilst the students in the image may be learning to write, the question remains of what the viewer was expected to learn from this image. The drawing and text do not contain instructions in letters or Latin grammar, and the viewer's grasp of Latin was presumably quite good if he was tackling Martianus Capella's text and the verses around the figure. Instead, the image may represent an ideal attitude towards learning to be emulated by other students. The importance of correct behaviour in the learning process, as well as attentive vision, is further indicated by the choice of the phrase 'eyes of the heart' in the accompanying text. This intimates that the material is not only to be seen, but also to be internalised. The phrase is drawn from Paul's letter to the Ephesians, where he prays that, 'the eyes of your heart [will be] enlightened, that you may know what the hope is of the glory of his inheritance in the saints'.²¹ The study of Grammar with one's eyes, in image and text, is thus to be taken to heart and is related to a spiritual enlightenment leading to understanding. The possibility of texts and images containing layers of meaning also resembles the Augustinian canon Hugh of Saint Victor's account of exposition, which formed part of his text on education, the Didascalicon, written in the late 1120s. Hugh declared that exposition,

The pupils turn their faces to Grammar to receive such insights, and the viewer may perhaps follow their example.

The role of Grammar as a teacher of moral behaviour, and the importance of correct behaviour as a foundation for learning, is further suggested by the combination of the art's attributes of book and whip, which parallels the later sculpted version at Chartres (Fig. 1). In the latter Grammar's two students behave very differently. That on the right is bent over his book, as if studying, and is placed beneath Grammar's open book. On the left, however, the pupil lets his book slip from his knees whilst he leans over to bother his companion, striking him on the head. He is placed beneath Grammar's raised sticks and stripped half naked, prepared to receive discipline. In this the image may be compared with a comment in Aelfric Bata's Colloquies, where a boy is instructed to remove his cowl before a beating.²³ Thus in both images Grammar is presented as helping the studious through study, and reforming those who will not learn through her discipline.

Some of the pupils in the Florence manuscript also seem to have experienced Grammar's correction. The two figures at either end of the bench are half naked, and their torsos are covered with pen marks (Fig. 5). These wounds are presumably the result of Grammar's whip, but they suggest a direct link between receiving physical correction and being able to write and draw, as the marks, text and image were all executed with a pen. This suggestion is supported by the writing figure in the centre, whose text reads 'Amara radix, dulcis fructus' ('Bitter root, Sweet fruit'). The short text notes the pain of punishment, but also its role as an important tool in learning. A similar sentiment is found in a collection of texts probably used for teaching Latin, written in England c.1000, where the fictional students declare they 'would rather be flogged for the sake of learning than remain ignorant'.²⁴ Moreover, John of Salisbury noted the use of the rod in his account of Bernard of Chartres' teaching of grammar, which he presented as an example of good teaching, describing Bernard as 'the greatest font of grammatical learning'.²⁵ John declared, 'Bernard would bend every effort to bring his students to imitate what they were hearing. In some cases he would rely on exhortation, in others he would resort to punishments such as flogging'.²⁶ In addition, the reference to fruit in the Florence manuscript recalls the Apostle Paul's letter to the Colossians, where he prayed that, 'you may be filled with the knowledge of his will, in all wisdom, and spiritual understanding: That you may walk worthy of God, in all things pleasing; being fruitful in every good work, and increasing in the knowledge of God'.²⁷ Particularly for those beginning their studies with the first art of grammar, therefore, the rod was considered to be a key tool in educational training.

Two other images of Grammar also identify instruments of discipline as means to aid learning. In the cycle of the liberal arts in the Hortus Deliciarum, a manuscript made by nuns at the abbey of Hohenburg at the end of the twelfth century, which survives only in copies, each art is given minimal attributes.²⁸ Grammar carries a bundle of rods (labelled scope) and a book. These are the tools of her trade, identified in the text in the arch above her head, which reads, 'Per me quis discit vox littera syllaba quid sit' ('Through me one learns language, which is letter and syllable'). The close relationship between discipline and training in grammar is also explored in another allegory of the art in a late twelfth century manuscript made at the Cistercian Abbey of Zwettl and still in the abbey library, where it is MS 53.²⁹ On f.2v Grammar appears at the start of the book on the art, holding a rod in one hand and a strange object in the other. This is comprised of a series of circles set on a thin base. It may be an inkwell and if so the artist seems to have been making a visual play on the rod, which also resembles a quill pen. The visual pun invokes the connotations of the word stilus or stylus as both a stem and a pen (or metal tool for writing on wax), although instruments of discipline were most commonly described as flagella. The identification of the art as a written subject and a physical training in discipline seems to be particularly appropriate in this context, as the initial in which Grammar is placed begins the word discipline (disciplina). Isidore identified this term as being derived from learning (discere), pertaining to the subject being studied.³⁰ However, the word also referred to behaviour and the pupil (discipulus) was to learn both.

That this was an idealised view of the experience of education is suggested by two other images of education. On a twelfth-century enamel casket in the Victoria and Albert Museum, London, measuring just 10 by 6 by 5.2 cm, Grammar's sole pupil is shown half-naked suggesting that punishment is an inevitable part of study.³¹ Similarly, in a small manuscript, measuring 16.5 by 12 cm, made between 1100 and 1120 at Durham, and now in the cathedral library there (MS Hunter 100, f.44) a pupil is shown being beaten (Fig. 6).³²

Fig. 6: Beating, Durham Cathedral Library MS Hunter 100, f.44, © Durham Cathedral.

The accompanying verse rubric reads, 'Afficitur plagis qui non vult discere gratis' ('He who does not want to learn freely must be taught with blows'). Although the text which follows is not directly concerned with grammar, the prologue of Helpericus' treatise on computation is addressed to 'fratribus adolescentioribus nostris' ('our adolescent brothers'), indicating that it is for those in the early stages of their training.³³ In the image the two figures are of roughly the same size, but the pupil is placed below the master to reflect his status. Unusually the violence is explicit, as the man with the bundle of rods pulls up the other's tunic to reveal bare flesh, whilst the miscreant is open mouthed, presumably crying out in fear or pain. The blows are also aimed at the student's bottom rather than his torso, which was more commonly shown as the target for discipline. As the two figures are the same size, this image may be an example of one boy disciplining another, a practice noted in Aelfric Bata's Colloquies where a master punishes a boy for stealing apples declaring, 'One boy stand on the right of his ass and one on the left. Take turns like this beating his ass and back. First you two beat him well and I will afterwards'.³⁴ In Aelfric Bata's text the student responds, 'I'd rather be dead now than to bear such lashes'. These images thus present a rather different view of punishment, focusing on pain and humiliation rather than the role of the rod in helping students learn to read. The small scale of both objects may indicate that they were made for individual use rather than public display. Thus they may reflect the experiences of individual patrons or artists, for whom the process was more memorable than the outcome.

In addition to the rod, the other common iconographic attribute for Grammar was a book. In damaged sculpted versions on the west façades of the cathedrals at Sens and Laon, probably made c.1200 and c.1190 respectively, where instruments of discipline no longer survive, the pupils have books, whilst at Chartres Grammar also holds up an open book (Figs. 1 & 7).

Fig. 7: Grammar, Sens Cathedral, west façade, central portal, author photograph.

Similarly, in the Florence manuscript Grammar carries a book or folded piece of parchment, marked with lines as if prepared for writing (Fig. 5). In this case the subject of her pupils' study is identified in the accompanying verses, which note the importance of texts by the authors Donatus and Priscian. Moreover, the reference to Paul's writings with the phrase 'eyes of the heart' reflects the role of reading as the means of access to Holy Scripture. This was paralleled by the inclusion of the sculpted cycles of the arts on church facades, where they were incorporated into larger theological schemes. The arts were placed around doors at Chartres, Sens, Loches and Déols and around a window at Laon.³⁵ This choice may have been intended to reflect their role in providing access to the mysteries of the church, by providing theological understanding, and, if so, this access was potentially available to the diverse group of people who passed beneath, either as a result of their own study, or through the explanations of the clergy.³⁶

Yet whilst learning grammar allowed access to many kinds of literature, including theological writing, as Hugh of Saint Victor noted, the study of grammar 'belongs only to certain books, like Priscian, Donatus, or Servius'.³⁷ This is echoed in the Florence manuscript, where the final lines of the verse around the figure of Grammar read, 'Donatus expounds a great part of me, The fruitful author Priscian writes me in my entirety'.³⁸ However, whilst these texts dealt with an elementary art, and Donatus was described pouring milk into the mouths of boys in the Augustinian canon Godfrey of Saint Victor's poem the Fountain of Philosophy (written after 1176), these texts were not immediately accessible to beginners.³⁹ In addition, works on grammar could be studied at a number of levels. John of Salisbury returned to the study of grammar after he had studied the more advanced art of dialectic in Paris. He declared, 'I then transferred, after deliberation and consultation, and with the approval of my instructors, to the grammarian [William] of Conches. I studied under the latter for three years, during which I learned much. Nor will I ever regret the time thus spent'.⁴⁰ Grammar was the starting point for further study, but the subject could also be rewarding in its own right.

The importance of grammar and its role in accessing further study is also suggested in a very unusual image in a copy of Priscian's Partitiones (Divisions) and Institutiones Grammaticae (Grammatical Foundations) from the Benedictine monastery of Saint Sulpice in Bourges (where it may have been made), now in Cambridge University Library, MS Gg.2.32 (Fig. 8).⁴¹

Fig. 8: Teacher and student, Cambridge University Library MS Gg.2.32, f.1, reproduced by kind permission of the Syndics of Cambridge University Library.

The volume is currently comprised of 114 folios measuring 29.6 by 20.8 cm. On f.1 the image serves as a frontispiece, together with a short text on metre. Text and image both draw on widely used tropes, however they seem to be original compositions and their relationship to each other is unclear. The text begins at the top of the first column, whilst the image occupies the lower part of the second column and extends into the central margin. Above the image a word has been erased, leaving only the letters '..mca' visible. The hand is informal and not that of the other text, and it is unclear whether this is a later label or an abbreviated note to indicate that an image of Grammar (grammatica) was to be placed below. The position of the image might indicate that space was left for a text of a particular length, which then proved shorter than intended. However, the colours used in the image are repeated in the initial, suggesting that the text was already in place when the image was added. Thus perhaps additional rubrics were to be included above it. Whilst it is possible, as Margaret Gibson proposed, that the image is a later addition, the text on the folio seems to be in the same hand as the rest of the manuscript and the colours used are also found in initials in the grammatical texts.⁴² Despite its awkward position, therefore, the image seems to have been planned and included early in the manuscript's conception as part of this volume on grammar.

The image is in two parts, both concerned with education. Above a tonsured student kneels, presenting a large tablet to a master who is seated before an open book holding a bundle of rods. Below are three figures; one holds a thin rod with a series of foliate extensions and a scroll, the second is seated above the other two holding an open book and another, broader rod, whilst the third has a snake and a series of circles joined to a handle. This last figure is Dialectic, who commonly appears with a serpent and here has the titles of texts studied as part of her subject on the object she holds. Gibson identified the other two figures as Grammar, on the left, and Christ (or Wisdom) in the centre.⁴³ However this would be an unusual image of Christ, as the figure has no halo, and is not obviously distinguished from the female figures on either side. The central figure has long hair, but is beardless, whilst the two strange rods held by the figures on the left and in the centre suggest that they are of similar status. It thus seems likely that these figures represent the other two arts of the trivium, with Rhetoric on the left with a scroll, perhaps an allusion to the classical tradition with which she was associated, and Grammar in the centre.⁴⁴ As Gibson noted, there are no surviving parallels for an image of the trivium at this date, although another appears at the end of the century in a manuscript now in the Bibliothèque Sainte-Geneviève, Paris (MS 1041, f.1v).⁴⁵ This lavish volume measures 36 by 20 cm and was probably produced in northern France. The image accompanies Remigius of Auxerre's commentary on Martianus Capella's allegorical text and gives equal status to the three arts, who are seated together. Grammar is on the left, accompanied by a small pupil, the first art to be seen when reading from left to right. In contrast, in the Cambridge image Grammar is made pre-eminent, raised above the other two with the book as a symbol of her role in contemporary learning, reflecting the form of the volume itself. This seems appropriate in a book dedicated to grammar, and also reflects the subject's role as the introduction to and training for the other arts, which were accessed by reading.

The important status of the figure of Grammar in the Cambridge manuscript parallels the treatment given to the teacher above. The master is seated on a large chair and raised above his pupil. Unusually, he is not significantly larger than the kneeling figure, suggesting that here an image of teacher and pupil has been conflated with an image of author and adult scribe. It is possible that the master is supposed to represent Priscian, whilst the student represents the scribe of the volume. Many images of scribes show them kneeling to present their work, though kneeling scribes or donors are more commonly found before images of saints. Another image of author and scribe appears in an initial in the copy of Martianus Capella's text in Florence on f.11 (Fig. 9).

Fig. 9: Author and scribe, Florence Biblioteca Medicea Laurenziana S. Marco MS 190, f.19, su concessione del Ministero per i Beni e le Attività Culturali e’ vietata ogni ulteriore riproduzione con qualsiasi mezzo.

In the tendrils of the initial sit a bearded man pointing to a book and a smaller beardless figure with a tablet and pen on his knees whose head is twisted to face his companion. This initial marks the start of the first book, and the figure on the left may thus be identified as the author, Martianus Capella, transmitting his work to the scribe. The latter is thus part of the process of transmission which has led to the production of this copy. Unlike the figure of Martianus Capella, however, the master in the Cambridge image carries a rod, emphasising his authority to punish and explicitly identifying him as a teacher as well, possibly, as an author.

None of the twelfth-century images of Grammar as a teacher purport to show a scene of contemporary education. Nevertheless, images of the first of the liberal arts provide insights into attitudes towards education in the twelfth century. The production of such images suggests a desire to celebrate and promote education, thereby extending the process of transmission emphasised by the images of scribes and authors. Although grammar was primarily concerned with the basics of literacy in Latin, the processes of learning to read and write received relatively little attention in these images. Instead artists used representations of books to stress the role of the art in providing access to texts of all kinds. Moreover, some artists made use of advanced texts on the arts in the creation of less easily recognisable images of Grammar. Like the verses around the image of Grammar in the Florence manuscript, these representations of the art suggest that images and texts may be read in parallel by those who have received proper training. At the same time, careful observation, with both eyes and heart, are presented as key tools for learning, allowing personal and spiritual advancement. The knowledge derived from such study must have divided those who could recognise and interpret visual signs and symbols from those who could not. The former category included those who designed and commissioned these images, and who were probably reflecting upon education from the standpoint of having received its benefits. Nevertheless, the celebration of the advanced study of the art at the beginning of the volume of Priscian's work in Cambridge must be set against the scenes of violent discipline found elsewhere. Taken as a group, therefore, these images reflect a range of attitudes to the common classroom practices of discipline and study associated with training in grammar. Whilst those who commissioned the images of Grammar would have agreed that education was important, their experiences of the classroom and opinions as to the applications of literacy were thus not as uniform as the repeated use of the formula of the liberal arts might at first glance suggest.

Dr Laura Cleaver, Courtauld Institute of Art

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NOTES

1. A. Katzenellenbogen, 'The Representation of the Seven Liberal Arts', in Twelfth Century Europe and the Foundations of Modern Society, ed. by M. Clagett, G. Post and R. Reynolds (Madison: University of Wisconsin Press, 1966), pp. 39-55; P. Verdier, 'L’iconographie des arts libéraux dans l’art du Moyen Âge jusqu’à la fin du quinzième siècle’, in Arts liberaux et philosophie au Moyen Âge (Montréale & Paris: Librairie philosophique J. Vrin, 1969), pp. 305-355; L. Cleaver, 'The Liberal Arts in Sculpture and Metalwork in Twelfth-Century France and Ideals of Education', immediations, 1 no. 4 (2007), pp. 56-75.

2. H. Schiffler and R. Winkeler, Tausend Jahre Schule: Eine Kulturgeschichte des Lernens in Bildern (Stuttgart & Zürich: Belser, 1985); L. Cleaver, Art and Education in Northern Europe (unpublished PhD thesis, University of London, 2008), pp. 30-70.

3. É. Mâle, Religious Art in France: the thirteenth century, trans. by M. Mathews, ed. by H. Bober (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1984), p. 86; M.T. Clanchy, From Memory to Written Record: England 1066-1307 (2nd edn. Oxford: Blackwell, 1993), p. 11; M. Münster-Swendsen, 'The Model of Scholastic Mastery in Northern Europe c.970-1200', in Teaching and Learning in Northern Europe ed. by S.N. Vaughn and J. Rubenstein (Turnhout: Brepols, 2006), pp. 307-342; C. Mattke, 'Verges et disciplines dans l'iconographie de l'enseignement', Mediavales (Du bon usage de la souffrance) (1994), p. 109.

4. L. Cleaver, Art and Education in Northern Europe (unpublished PhD thesis, University of London, 2008), pp. 30-70.

5. Martianus Capella, Martianus Capella and the Seven Liberal Arts, ed. and trans. by W.H. Stahl and R. Johnson with E.L. Burge, 2 (New York: Columbia University Press, 1977), p. 65.

6. M. W. Evans, Personifications of the Artes from Martianus Capella up to the end of the fourteenth century (unpublished PhD thesis, University of London, 1970), pp. 2, 14.

7. John of Salisbury, The Metalogicon of John of Salisbury: A Twelfth-Century Defense of the Verbal and Logical Arts of the Trivium, trans. by D.D. McGarry (Berkley & Los Angeles: University of California Press, 1962), p. 61.

8. G. Swarzenski, Die Salzburger Malerei von den ersten Anfngen bis zur Bltezeit des romanischen Stils (Leipzig: K.W. Hiersemann, 1913), p. 94.

9. John of Salisbury, p. 61; Katzenellenbogen, p. 48.

10. Swarzenski, p. 94; Ornamenta Ecclesiae: Kunst und Knstler der Romanik, ed. by A. Legner (Cologne: Schnütgen-Museum, 1985), Cat. A 11 p. 66.

11. R. Forrer, Unedierte Federzeichnungen Miniaturen und Initialen des Mittelalters (Strassburg, 1902), p. 11.

12. Adelard of Bath, Adelard of Bath, Conversations with his Nephew, ed. and trans. by C. Burnett (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1998), pp. 34-37.

13. Isidore of Seville, The Etymologies of Isidore of Seville, ed. by S.A. Barney et al. (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2006), p. 189.

14. Evans, pp. 12, 21, 23, 35.

15. 'Significat autem flagellum quo pueri caeduntur', Remigius of Auxerre, Remigii Autissiodorensis Commentum in Martianum Capellam, ed. by C.E. Lutz (Leiden: E.J. Brill, 1965), p. 4.

16. Primo Grammaticam cognoscis in ordine pictam
Intendis cautos ad me qui cordis ocellos.
dirigitur verbo qui me custodit amando,
Sermonum leges nam pono famine sollers.
Magna Donatus me solvit peritus parte
Auctor Prescianus totam me scribit opimus; C. Leonardi, 'Nuove voci poetiche tra secolo IX e XI' Studi medievali, 2 (1961), p. 157 (my translation). I want to thank Daniel Hadas for help with this translation and discussion of the significance of these verses.

17. John of Salisbury, p. 38.

18. John of Salisbury, p. 38.

19. M. Camille, 'Seeing and Reading: Some Visual Implications of Medieval Literacy and Illiteracy', Art History, 8 no. 1 (1985), p. 32; Gilbert Crispin, The Works of Gilbert Crispin, Abbot of Westminster, ed. by A.S. Abulafia and G. R. Evans (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1986), p. 52.

20. Aelfric Bata, Anglo-Saxon Conversations: The Colloquies of Aelfric Bata, ed. by S. Gawara and D.W. Porter (Woodbridge: Boydell & Brewer, 1997), p. 83.

21. Ephesians 1:18, Douay-Rheims translation.

22. Hugh of Saint Victor, The Didascalicon of Hugh of Saint Victor, ed. and trans. by J. Taylor (New York: Columbia University Press, 1991), p. 92.

23. Aelfric Bata, p. 93.

24. Aelfric, Aelfric's Colloquy, ed. by G. N. Garmonsway (London, 1947), pp. 18-19.

25. John of Salisbury, p. 67 n. 345.

26. John of Salisbury, p. 68.

27. Colossians 1:9-10, Douay-Rheims translation.

28. Herrad of Hohenbourg: Hortus Deliciarum ed. by R. Green et al. (London: Warburg Institute, 1979).

29. Reproduced in Die Kuenringer: Das Werden des Landes NiederÖsterreich (Vienna: Amt der Niederösterreichischen Landesregierung, Kulturabteilung, 1981), p. 230.

30. Isidore of Seville, p. 39.

31. Cleaver (2007) p. 74.

32. R.A.B. Mynors, Durham Cathedral Manuscripts (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1939), pp. 49-50; C.M. Kauffmann, Romanesque Manuscripts 1066-1190 (London: Harvey Miller, 1975), Cat. 27 p. 67.

33. Helpericus 'Liber de Computo' Patriologia Latina ed. by J.-P. Migne et al. vol. 137 (Paris, 1879), Col. 19.

34. Aelfric Bata, p. 167.

35. J. Hubert, ‘l’Abbatiale Notre-Dame de Déols’, Bulletin Monumental, 86 (1927), pp. 5-66.

36. Katzenellenbogen, p. 45.

37. Hugh of Saint Victor, p. 90.

38. Magna Donatus me solvit peritus parte
Auctor Prescianus totam me scribit opimus.

39. Godfrey of Saint Victor, The Fountain of Philosophy: A Translation of the twelfth-century Fons philosophiae of Godfrey of Saint Victor, trans. by E.A. Synan (Toronto: Pontifical Institute of Medieval Studies, 1972), pp. 9,44; Godfrey of Saint Victor, 'Godfrey of Saint Victor Fons Philosophiae', ed. by P. Michaud-Quantin Analecta Mediaevalia Namurcensia, 8 (1956), p. 39.

40. John of Salisbury, p. 97.

41. A Catalogue of the Manuscripts Preserved in the Library of the University of Cambridge, 3 (Cambridge, 1858), pp. 57-8; M. Gibson, 'A Picture of Sapientia from S. Sulpice, Bourges' Trans. Camb. Bibl. Soc., 6 (1972-6), pp. 126-128.

42. Gibson, p. 126.

43. Gibson, p. 126.

44. Cleaver, (2008), pp. 93-129.

45. Gibson, pp. 126-127.