Tuesday, August 23, 2016

Notes on "Studies in Medieval and Renaissance Literature" by C. S. Lewis: Arranged according to theme

      A little while ago I wrote a short review of C. S. Lewis's collection of essays, published posthumously under the title, "Studies in Medieval and Rennaissance Literature" (see here). What is below is something of a summary of some of the more important themes (from my personal perspective) which are endorsed by Lewis. That is, many of these articles are interacting with other works of literature, and, therefore, would be classified as works of literary criticism. Though this is the case, Lewis often included (1) his own views on different subjects, and frequently provides us with (2) great insights into the mind of the medieval author. I have tried to set out, as much of possible, everything that fits into these two categories. Hopefully this will be helpful for anyone who is seeking to understand Lewis's approach to the following subjects. Some of the themes mentioned below include: Hermeneutics, Theology Proper, Eschatology (heaven and hell), etc.

Notes arranged according to subject

On Reading and Interpreting a text: Hermeneutics

1.      Concerning the subjectivity of reading: “What we find inside [the book] will always depend a great deal on what we have brought in with us.”[1]

2.      Concerning the importance of studying the cultural and historical context surrounding the text in question:

a.       “we may have to go outside it [the book] in order that we may presently come inside it again, better equipped…A man who read the literature of the past with no allowance at all for the fact that manners, thought, and sentiments have changed since it was written, would make the maddest work of it.”[2]
b.      “I think it worth while to spend some labour on ‘putting ourselves back’ into the universe which our ancestors believed themselves to inhabit.”[3]

3.      Concerning the extent to which we should seek to understand the original meaning of a text (what it would have meant to its original readers), especially in relation to poetry:

a.       “When our aim is knowledge we must go as far as all available means—including the most intense, yet at the same time most sternly disciplined, exercise of our imaginations—can possibly take us. We want to know—therefore, as far as may be, we want to live through for ourselves—the experience of men long dead. What a poem may ‘mean’ to moderns and to them only, however delightful, is from this point of view merely a stain on the lens. We must clean the lens and remove the stain so that the real past can be seen better.”[4]
b.      “But among lovers of poetry the question admits two answers. You may do which you please…there is a man who carries his modernity with him through all his reading of past literatures and preserves it intact. The highlights in all ancient and medieval poetry are for him the bits that resemble—or can be so read that they seem to resemble—the poetry for his own age.”[5]
c.       The second way, “You can go beyond the first impression that a poem makes on your modern sensibility. By study of things outside the poem, by comparing it with other poems, by steeping yourself in the vanished period, you can then re-enter the poem with eyes more like those of the natives; now perhaps seeing that the associations you gave to the old words were false, that the real implications were different from what you supposed, that what you thought strange was then ordinary and that what seemed to you ordinary was then strange.”[6]
d.      For C. S. Lewis, the second way is the way that is more to be desired: “I am a man as well as a lover of poetry: being human, I am inquisitive, I want to know as well as to enjoy. But even if enjoyment alone were my aim I should still choose this way, for I should hope to be led by it to newer and fresher enjoyments…it would seem to me a waste of the past if we were content to see in the literature of every bygone age only the reflexion of our own faces.”[7]
e.       “The worst method of all [for reading a text], in my opinion, would be to accept the first impression that the old text happens to make on a modern sensibility and then apply to this the detailed methods of ‘practical’ criticism.”[8]

4.      On the importance, for a proper interpretation of any text, of reading other texts from that same time period: “What we may have missed in the passage from Piers Plowman, on the other hand, can be supplied only by a fairly wide reading of medieval English literature; whether our own, or that vicarious reading which is offered to us by quotations of ‘parallels’ in good commentaries.”[9]

5.      The difficulties that modern interpreters run into:

a.       “What we really have to fear is a slighter, but more continuous and in the long run more impoverishing, blindness to the full implications of apparently innocent passages. In the language of the old poets it is not the obviously ‘hard’ words that betray us; it is the seemingly easy words which will make sense (but not the sense the poet intended) if we take them in their modern meanings.”[10]
b.      Lewis says essentially the same thing as in point 5.a., when he says, in his article on Edmund Spenser, that “an obstacle may arise from our own preconceptions. We may be so certain in advance what a word or an image ought to mean that we omit to notice what it really does mean in the poem.”[11]
c.       “But by Spenser’s time allegory (both literary and pictorial) had been practised so long that certain symbols had an agreed meaning which everyone could understand directly, without plunging into the depths. Many of these are lost on the modern reader who does not know the Bible, the classics, astrology, or the old emblem books.”[12]

6.      On the danger of using Etymology to determine meaning: “When we are discussing the meaning not of books but of single words, we sometimes meet a stupid person who produces an etymology with the air of one settling the whole affair; as if the earliest recorded meaning of the word (or of its remotest ancestor) necessarily threw any light on its meaning in a particular passage a thousand years later. In reality it might or might not.”[13]

7.      That the interpreter cannot know what true believers in some religion actually felt as they worshipped: “Anthropologists may describe to us what modern savages do; they may conjecture what our ancestors did. But what it all felt like from within, what the ritual meant to those who enacted it, we do not know…We cannot get inside it; not directly.”[14]

8.      The use of anthropology in literary criticism: “In other words the poem is illuminating the myth; the myth is not illuminating the poem. The unknown cannot illuminate the known. What is merely conjectured or reconstructed, or at best known only from without, cannot illumine what we encounter directly and receive deeply into our emotions and imagination. Our knowledge of savage or prehistoric religions is at best only savoir; our knowledge of Bercilak is connaître, knowledge-by-acquaintance. It therefore seems to me that while anthropology might have much to gain from a sensitive reading of the literature, literary criticism can learn almost nothing from anthropology.”[15]

9.      In order to properly interpret Medieval literature one must understand their use of sources, for, they frequently do not distinguish between their own thoughts and the thoughts of those who inspired them:

a.       “If criticism cannot do without the clear separation of one work from another and the clear unity of the individual author with the individual text, then criticism of medieval literature is impossible.”[16]
b.      “It is unbelievable that the Latin author misunderstood or forgot or did not reverence the sense of the original. He obviously feels perfectly free to transform it in any way that suits his purpose, provided that, thus transformed, it is still orthodox and edifying. Very possibly he regarded himself as choosing one, instead of another, from among its multiple senses.”[17]

10.  On the influence of one author upon another author: “I think we can understand this in the light of those occasions when we have remembered a good passage from a book as being even better than it was. We look it up, perhaps in order to quote it; and find that what we had seemed to remember as the master touch was never there at all. We have added it. But it was the vitality of the passage which enabled, and forced, us to do so. The author’s imagination has fertilized ours.”[18]

11.  On the difference between reading literature as a Historian, and reading it to be affected by it: “As historians, as critics of authors, we may want to know whether some simile in the Brut came first from Wace or LaƷamon; whether some speech in Troilus came first from Boccaccio or Chaucer. But as readers we are concerned only to receive, as critics of books we are concerned only to diagnose and evaluate, what this simile or speech contributes to the whole ‘communicating and doing’ of the work before us. And while we are reading or criticizing we must be on our guard against a certain elliptical mode of expression which may be legitimate for some other purpose but is deadly for us…Within a given story any object, person, or place is neither more nor less nor other than what that story effectively shows it to be. The ingredients of one story cannot ‘be’ anything in another story, for they are not in it at all. These supposedly identical ingredients are the abstract products of analysis. Within concrete literary experiences we never meet them.”[19]

12.  Concerning the readers’ capacity to know the motives of the author: Lewis criticizes Professor Vinaver for attempting to know the intentions of Malory.[20]

a.       He notes, “Once again Malory’s intentions can only be guessed.”[21]
b.      “we are too apt to assume that what a writer likes and what he can do coincide.”[22]

13.  Concerning the use of Similes in Prose literature:

a.       “The simile, as a fully-fledged poetic device, falls generally into three classes.”[23] Lewis goes on to list the three main classes of Simile as: (1) Homeric, (2) Metaphysical, (3) Dantesque. Concerning the Dantesque similes, Lewis notes that there are four kinds: (a) pure Virgilian or Homeric,[24] (b) Dante’s traveller simile’s,[25] (c) the psychological/social/cultural similes,[26] which is to be Dante’s favorite type of similes,[27] and (d) Pure Dantesque,[28] which Lewis says are Metaphysical similes.[29]
b.      Concerning the importance of the similes of Dante, Lewis notes, “Dante’s position in the history of simile is an important one. The ‘metaphysical’ kind may be in some degree indebted to him: and he, in his turn, had read Virgil, if not Homer, and was quite familiar with the Homeric type of simile and sometimes used it.”[30]
c.       Homeric similes could also be called “long-tailed similes”, and heavily influenced the similes used by Virgil.[31]
d.      Concerning the use of similes in epic poetry, Lewis notes that “the real purpose of simile is to turn epic poetry from a solo to an orchestra in which any theme the poet chooses may be brought to bear on the reader at any moment and for any number of purposes.”[32]
                                                              i.      He later adds that, “The poet is anxious simply to set the thing before our eyes.”[33]

14.  That Dante is the greatest poet: “I think Dante's poetry, on the whole, the greatest of all the poetry I have read: yet when it is at its highest pitch of excellence, I hardly feel that Dante has very much to do. There is a curious feeling that the great poem is writing itself, or at most, that the tiny figure of the poet is merely giving the gentlest guiding touch, here and there, to energies which, for the most part, spontaneously group themselves and perform the delicate evolutions which make up the Comedy.”[34]

15.  A way of classifying narrative poets: “Hence comes a curious classification, distinguishing poets who teach public and private virtue in the same hero, as Virgil did in Aeneas and Ariosto in Orlando, and those who have a different hero for each, as Homer had.”[35]
16.  Concerning the interpretation of Allegory in literature:

a.       speaking of the way in which readers of Spenser have attempted to interpret his works allegorically, Lewis states, “Apart from these few equivalencies, interpretation of the historical allegory is controversial and speculative…Some published fantasies of my own have had foisted on them (often by the kindliest critics) so many admirable allegorical meanings that I never dreamed of as to throw me into doubt whether it is possible for the wit of man to devise anything in which the wit of some other man cannot find, and plausibly find, an allegory.”[36]
       


On the Medieval World and the Medieval approach to the world

1.      The term “space”, for Medievals, “usually meant a temporal rather than a local extension and that space as a concrete (the abyss, the vacuity in which all material objects exist) cannot be traced earlier than Milton.”[37]
a.       For Medievals, “There was no abyss. Man looked up at a patterned, populous, intricate, finite cosmos; a builded thing, not a wilderness; ‘heaven’ or ‘spheres’, not ‘space’.”[38]
b.      For Medievals, “He did not think that the spaces he looked up at were silent, or dark or empty. Far from being silent, they were perpetually filled with sweet, immeasurable sound.”[39]
c.       “Nor were those high regions dark…Beyond the apex the higher heavens are bathed in perpetual sunshine. In a sense, no doubt, we should say the same. But then we are aware (as they, I think, were not) of the part played by the air in diffusing sunlight and producing that bubble of luminosity which we call day.”[40]
d.      “And these spaces, bright and resonant, were also inhabited…Clearly when you look up at a sky peopled by such creatures as these, it is just no good asserting ‘I am a dew-drop that thinks’. The very necessity of ‘thinking’ (as we ordinarily understand the word) is the measure of our inferiority.”[41]

2.      The insignificance of the earth:
a.       “That the Earth is, by any cosmic scale, insignificant, is a truth that was forced on every intelligent man as soon as serious astronomical observations began to be made.”[42] Lewis quotes Aristotle’s Metaphysics and Ptolemy’s Compendium as proof.
b.      “This was accepted by the Middle Ages. It was not merely accepted by scholars; it was re-echoed by moralists and poets again and again. To judge from the texts, medieval man thought about the insignificance of Earth more persistently, if anything, than his modern descendants.”[43]
c.       Comparing the Medieval view (where the universe was finite, but immensely greater than earth) with the modern view (where the universe is infinitely greater than earth), Lewis says, “One cannot be, in any very important sense, small where size has ceased to have a meaning. The old universe was wholly different in its effect. It was an answer, not a question. It offered not a field for musing but a single overwhelming object; an object which at once abashes and exalts the mind. For in it there is a final standard of size. The Primum Mobile is really large because it is the largest corporeal thing there is. We are really small because our whole Earth is a speck compared with the Primum Mobile.”[44]

3.      The order of the Universe:
a.       “It is a structure, a finished work, a unity articulated through a great and harmonious plurality. It evokes not mere wonder but admiration. It provides food for thought and satisfaction for our aesthetic nature.”[45]
b.      Lewis goes through the Angelic hierarchy, the hierarchy of the universe, and then discusses the triads of the Medieval world’s ordered universe.[46]
c.       Discussion of the ethical triad in humankind: “Ethically (and here, at many removes, they were following Plato) the triad is Reason, Emotion and Appetite. Reason, seated in the head, governs the Appetites, seated in the abdomen or beneath it, by the aid of the more fully human and civilized emotions which were located in the thorax; such things as shame, honour, pity, self-respect, affection.”[47]
d.      How the medieval compared the earthly hierarchies with the celestial: “A modern mind will of course say that the men of that age fashioned heaven in the likeness of Earth…But remember that they thought it was the other way round. They thought that the ecclesiastical hierarchy and the social hierarchy on Earth were dim reproductions of the celestial hierarchies…That is why so much medieval art and literature is concerned simply with asserting the nature of things. They liked to tell, and to be told again and again, about the universe I have been describing.”[48]

4.      Concerning the context of Medieval scholars and literacy:
a.       “Their culture is through and through a bookish culture. Millions, no doubt, were illiterate; the masters, however, were literate, and not only literate but scholarly and even pedantic. The peculiar predicament of medieval man was in fact just this: he was a literate man who had lost a great many of his books and forgotten how to read all his Greek books…In that way the Middle Ages were much less like an age which has not yet been civilized than like one which has survived the loss of civilization.”[49]
b.      Concerning the books that were available to Medieval scholars, C. S. Lewis says, “What survived was, to some extent, a chance collection. It contained ancient Hebrew, classical Greek, classical Roman, decadent Roman and early Christian elements. It had reached them by various routes. All Plato had disappeared except part of the Timaeus in a Latin version: one of the greatest, but also one of the least typical, of the dialogues. Aristotle’s logic was at first missing, but you had a Latin translation of a very late Greek introduction to it. Astronomy and medicine, and (later) Aristotle, came in Latin translations of Arabic translations of the Greek. That is the typical descent of learning: from Athens to Hellenistic Alexandria, from Alexandria to Baghdad, from Baghdad, via Sicily, to the university of Paris, and thence all over Europe….A scratch collection, a corpus that frequently contradicted itself.”[50]

5.      Characteristics of Medieval Scholars:
a.       “Characteristically, medieval man was not a dreamer nor a spiritual adventurer; he was an organizer, a codifier, a man of system. His ideal could be not unfairly summed up in the old housewifely maxim ‘A place for everything, and everything in its (right) place’.”[51]
b.      “In all these alike [Cathedrals, the summa of Aquinas, and the Divine Comedy of Dante] we see the tranquil, indefatigable, exultant energy of a passionately logical mind ordering a huge mass of heterogeneous details into unity. They desire unity and proportion, all the classical virtues, just as keenly as the Greeks did. But they have a greater and more varied collections of things to fit in.”[52]
c.       Speaking to the Medieval desire to harmonize the evidently contradictory sources they had available to them, C. S. Lewis says, “Faced with this self-contradictory corpus, they hardly ever decided that one of the authorities was simply right and the others wrong; never that all were wrong. To be sure, in the last resort it was taken for granted that the Christian writers must be right as against the Pagans. But it was hardly ever allowed to come to the last resort…No; if Seneca and St. Paul disagreed with one another, and both with Cicero, and all these with Boethius, there must be some explanation which would harmonize them. What was not true literally might be true in some other sense; what was false simpliciter might be true secundum quid.[53]
d.      “For surely intricacy is a mark of the medieval mind: intricacy in scholastic philosophy, in Gothic architecture, in dress, in the rhyme schemes of poetry, and…the intricacy of allegory.”[54]



The Post-Medieval, Early Reformation, Renaissance view

1.      Their understanding of Humanism: “And humanists in this context [Cambridge of the 1500s] means simply, classicists’—men very interested in Greek, but more interested in Latin, and far more interested in the ‘correct’ or ‘classical’ style of Latin than in what the Latin authors said…And they were united by a common (and usually ignorant) hatred for everything medieval: for scholastic philosophy, medieval Latin, romance, fairies, and chivalry.”[55]
2.      Concerning their poetry: “Nearly all the good poetry of the sixteenth century is crowded into its last twenty years (except in Scotland, where it comes at the beginning of the century and is overwhelmingly medieval in character). In England, until Sidney and Spenser arose, the last poet of real importance had been Sir Thomas Wyatt, who died in 1542.”[56]


On Writing

1.      On writing narrative prose: “it might have been written by someone who had read Aristotle and learned that a narrative poet ought to speak as much as possible through the mouths of his characters and as little as possible through his own.”[57]

2.      On making the reader work in reading your work: “And what the reader is made to do for himself has a particular importance in literature.”[58]

3.      How our recent reading influences our writing: Lewis, commenting on the creativity and writing style of Malory, notes that “As he has lately read, so he writes. He is at the mercy of his originals.”[59]

4.      On the Poet: “Spenser believed that…a poet ought to be a moral teacher.”[60]

5.      Concerning the importance and use of the Polyphonic Narrative Technique.[61]

6.      Concerning how Poetry makes old truths lively again: “In the first place, what looks like a platitude when it is set out in the abstract may become a different sort of thing when it puts on flesh and blood in the story…the poetic art existed for the precise purpose of thus turning dead truism into vital experience.”[62]



Chronological Snobbery

1.      “There is a great difference between rejecting something you have known from the inside and rejecting something (as uneducated people tend to do) simply because it happens to be out of fashion in your own time.”[63]



Challenging the Modern view of the Universe: Cosmology

1.      Lewis, after discussing the Medieval model of the universe, and comparing it with the modern model, says, “I suppose most people would now admit that no picture of the universe we can form is ‘true’ in quite the sense our grandfathers hoped. We would rather speak of ‘models’. And since all are only models, we should be prepared to find in each something of the nature of the artist as well as something of the object. From that point of view, too, a study of the various models has its interest. I think the medieval and Newtonian models—the one so ordered, so sublime, and so festive, the other so trackless, so incapable of form—reflect the older, more formal and intellectual world and the later enthusiastic, romantic world pretty well. What our own models—if you continue to allow us models at all—will reflect, posterity may judge.”[64]



On Christianity and Platonism

1.      “Christians and Platonists both believe in an ‘other’ world. They differ, at least in emphasis, when they describe the relations between that other world and Nature.”[65]
a.       “For a Platonist the contrast is usually that between an original and a copy, between the real and the merely apparent, between the clear and the confused: for a Christian, between the eternal and the temporary, or the perfect and the partially spoiled.”[66]
b.      “The essential attitude of Platonism is aspiration or longing: the human soul, imprisoned in the shadowy, unreal world of Nature, stretches out its hands and struggles towards the beauty and reality of that which lies (as Plato says) ‘on the other side of existence’…In Christianity, however, the human soul is not the seeker but the sought: it is God who seeks, who descends from the other world to find and heal Man.”[67]



Aesthetics and Moral Philosophy

1.      On Beauty and Evil:

a.       “Professor Tolkien, lecturing at St Andrews not many years ago, remarked how the idea of the beautiful but evil fay has disappeared from the modern imagination. Perhaps in the world built by industrialism beauty has become so rare and evil so undisguisedly ugly that we can no longer believe ill of beauty. With the old poets it was not so. They believed that a thing might be perfectly beautiful, might be of a beauty to break the heart, and yet be evil.”[68]

2.      On Moral Purity and Puritanism:
a.       “In reality Puritanism and the Counter-Reformation, or even Puritanism and the Middle Ages, were on this point in positions almost opposite to those that moderns imagine for them. Asceticism is far more characteristic of Catholicism than of the Puritans. Celibacy and the praise of virginity are Catholic: the honour of the marriage bed is Puritan.”[69]
b.      Concerning the form of Puritanism that was common at Cambridge in 1569, when Spenser was writing, Lewis says, “By purity the Elizabethan Puritan meant not chastity but ‘pure’ theology, and still more, ‘pure’ church discipline…We must picture these Puritans as the very opposite of those who bear that name today: as young, fierce, progressive intellectuals, very fashionable and up-to-date.”[70]



The Effects of Modernism and Technology on the Human Mind

1.      “If we reply that this kind of suspense [the polyphonic narrative technique] is lost on us because our bad memories frustrate it and when we get back to Arthur we have forgotten all about him, then, since our ancestors made no such objection, it would seem that we differ from them by an inferiority, not by a superiority. And no doubt we do. Cheap paper, typewriters, notebooks, and indexes have impaired our memories just as automobiles have made some people almost incapable of walking. (One of the great uses of literary history is to keep on reminding us that while man is constantly acquiring new powers he is also constantly losing old ones.)”[71]



The Nature of God: Theology Proper

1.      God is incorporeal:
a.       Discussing the descriptions of God’s movement in the Sawles Warde, C. S. Lewis says, “Later (298-300) he [the author] tells us that God remains seated as He receives the prayers of all other saints, but stands up when addressed by the virgins…If he had met a real anthropomorphist, I expect he would have been quite able to explain that God was incorporeal and therefore would not really sit down or stand up. It would not, of course, follow that in the heat of composition he consciously attended to this.”[72]

2.      God as Light:
a.       Discussing the metaphysical similes of Dante, Lewis says, “God is, or is like, light, not for the purposes of this bit of poetry but for every devotional, philosophical, and theological purpose imaginable within a Christian, or indeed a monotheistic, frame of reference.”[73]



Heaven and Hell: Eschatology

1.      Concerning the medieval view of Hell, Lewis notes, “And the centre of that Centre, the centre of the Earth, is the edge, the very point at which all being and reality finally peter out. For in there (as we call it), out there (as we ought to call it) is Hell—the last outpost, the rim, the place where being is nearest to not-being, where positive unbeing (so to call it) asymptotically approaches that zero it can never quite reach.”[74]
2.      Discussing Spenser’s use of a form of reincarnation in which the just enter heaven (immutable and blessed), whereas the others return to the world, Lewis first notes that Spenser did not necessarily believe this, but, rather, used it for his poetry. Lewis continues, “This picture is not inconsistent with the Christian doctrine of ultimately unalterable salvation or perdition. It adds to it a doctrine, but not ‘the Romish doctrine’, of Purgatory. It is a permissible speculation.”[75] It is important to note, here, that, (1) Lewis is affirming as truth to be believed, that both an eternal Hell and Heaven exist, and that once in one or the other there is no getting out. Note also, (2) Lewis is explicitly saying that purgatory is pure speculation, and Roman Catholic—not his own position. Note, finally, that Lewis is (3) saying that were the scriptures are not explicit, some speculation is permissible—so long as it does not obviously contradict the scriptures.




[1]C. S. Lewis, “‘De Audiendis Poetis’”, in Studies in Medieval and Renaissance Literature, ed. Walter Hooper (1966; repr., Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2007), 1.

[2]Lewis, “‘De Audiendis Poetis’”, 1.

[3]Lewis, “‘De Audiendis Poetis’”, 8.

[4]Lewis, “‘De Audiendis Poetis’”, 2.

[5]Lewis, “‘De Audiendis Poetis’”, 2.

[6]Lewis, “‘De Audiendis Poetis’”, 3.

[7]Lewis, “‘De Audiendis Poetis’”, 3-4.

[8]Lewis, “‘De Audiendis Poetis’”, 4.

[9]Lewis, “‘De Audiendis Poetis’”, 6.

[10]Lewis, “‘De Audiendis Poetis’”, 8.

[11]C. S. Lewis, “Edmund Spenser, 1552-99”, in Studies in Medieval and Renaissance Literature, ed. Walter Hooper (1966; repr., Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2007), 142.

[12]Lewis, “Edmund Spenser, 1552-99”, 141.

[13]Lewis, “‘De Audiendis Poetis’”, 9.

[14]Lewis, “‘De Audiendis Poetis’”, 11.

[15]Lewis, “‘De Audiendis Poetis’”, 11.

[16]Lewis, “The Genesis of a Medieval Book”, 22.

[17]Lewis, “The Genesis of a Medieval Book”, 34.

[18]Lewis, “The Genesis of a Medieval Book”, 37.

[19]Lewis, “The Genesis of a Medieval Book”, 39-40.

[20]C. S. Lewis, “The ‘Morte Darthur’”, in Studies in Medieval and Renaissance Literature, ed. Walter Hooper (1966; repr., Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2007), 108, 109.

[21]Lewis, “The ‘Morte Darthur’”, 109.

[22]C. S. Lewis, “Tasso”, in Studies in Medieval and Renaissance Literature, ed. Walter Hooper (1966; repr., Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2007), 114.

[23]C. S. Lewis, “Dante’s Similes”, in Studies in Medieval and Renaissance Literature, ed. Walter Hooper (1966; repr., Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2007), 64.

[24]Lewis, “Dante’s Similes”, 66-67.

[25]Lewis, “Dante’s Similes”, 67-68.

[26]Lewis, “Dante’s Similes”,68-71.

[27]Lewis, “Dante’s Similes”, 69.

[28]Lewis, “Dante’s Similes”, 66-67, 71-75.

[29]Lewis, “Dante’s Similes”, 71, 72.

[30]Lewis, “Dante’s Similes”, 64.

[31]Lewis, “Dante’s Similes”, 65.

[32]Lewis, “Dante’s Similes”, 66.

[33]Lewis, “Dante’s Similes”, 69.

[34]Lewis, “Dante’s Similes”, 76.

[35]C. S. Lewis, “Tasso”, in Studies in Medieval and Renaissance Literature, ed. Walter Hooper (1966; repr., Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2007), 112.

[36]C. S. Lewis, “Edmund Spenser, 1552-99”, in Studies in Medieval and Renaissance Literature, ed. Walter Hooper (1966; repr., Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2007), 136.

[37]Lewis, “‘De Audiendis Poetis’”, 7.

[38]Lewis, “‘De Audiendis Poetis’”, 7.

[39]C. S. Lewis, “Imagination and Thought in the Middle Ages”, in Studies in Medieval and Renaissance Literature, ed. Walter Hooper (1966; repr., Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2007), 52.

[40]Lewis, “Imagination and Thought in the Middle Ages”, 52.

[41]Lewis, “Imagination and Thought in the Middle Ages”, 53.

[42]Lewis, “Imagination and Thought in the Middle Ages”, 46.

[43]Lewis, “Imagination and Thought in the Middle Ages”, 46.

[44]Lewis, “Imagination and Thought in the Middle Ages”, 48.

[45]Lewis, “Imagination and Thought in the Middle Ages”, 49.

[46]Lewis, “Imagination and Thought in the Middle Ages”, 53-59.

[47]Lewis, “Imagination and Thought in the Middle Ages”, 58.

[48]Lewis, “Imagination and Thought in the Middle Ages”, 60.

[49]Lewis, “Imagination and Thought in the Middle Ages”, 43.

[50]Lewis, “Imagination and Thought in the Middle Ages”, 44-45.

[51]Lewis, “Imagination and Thought in the Middle Ages”, 44.

[52]Lewis, “Imagination and Thought in the Middle Ages”, 44.

[53]Lewis, “Imagination and Thought in the Middle Ages”, 45.

[54]Lewis, “Tasso”, 117.

[55]C. S. Lewis, “Edmund Spenser, 1552-99”, in Studies in Medieval and Renaissance Literature, ed. Walter Hooper (1966; repr., Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2007), 122.

[56]Lewis, “Edmund Spenser, 1552-99”, 127.

[57]Lewis, “The Genesis of a Medieval Book”, 29.

[58]C. S. Lewis, “Imagery in Dante’s ‘Comedy’”, in Studies in Medieval and Renaissance Literature, ed. Walter Hooper (1966; repr., Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2007), 81.

[59]C. S. Lewis, “The ‘Morte Darthur’”, in Studies in Medieval and Renaissance Literature, ed. Walter Hooper (1966; repr., Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2007), 107.

[60]Lewis, “Edmund Spenser, 1552-99”, 130.

[61]Lewis, “Edmund Spenser, 1552-99”, 133-135.

[62]Lewis, “Edmund Spenser, 1552-99”, 138.

[63]Lewis, “Edmund Spenser, 1552-99”, 138.

[64]Lewis, “Imagination and Thought in the Middle Ages”, 62-63.

[65]Lewis, “Edmund Spenser, 1552-99”, 144.

[66]Lewis, “Edmund Spenser, 1552-99”, 144.

[67]Lewis, “Edmund Spenser, 1552-99”, 144.

[68]Lewis, “Tasso”, 116.

[69]Lewis, “Tasso”, 117.

[70]C. S. Lewis, “Edmund Spenser, 1552-99”, in Studies in Medieval and Renaissance Literature, ed. Walter Hooper (1966; repr., Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2007), 121.

[71]Lewis, “Edmund Spenser, 1552-99”, 134.

[72]Lewis, “The Genesis of a Medieval Book”, 36.

[73]Lewis, “Dante’s Similes”, 71.

[74]Lewis, “Imagination and Thought in the Middle Ages”, 62.

[75]C. S. Lewis, “Neoplatonism in Spenser’s Poetry”, in Studies in Medieval and Renaissance Literature, ed. Walter Hooper (1966; repr., Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2007), 154.