Interpretative reading of the Cluny capitals: 1. Original Sin

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"I believe that these hypotheses you have put forward, though seeming plausible to true reason, will nevertheless appear as delusions and contradictory hypotheses to people less capable of scrutinizing the nature of things...” John Scotus Eriugena, Periphyseon, Book V, 880 B.

1. Announcement of the sale "wholesale or retail of the materials
of the former abbey of Cluny", 1804.
Photo: D.R.
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The Abbey of Cluny, confiscated by the Revolution as national property, was sold in 1797 and destroyed in the years that followed [1] (ill. 1). The capitals that formed the sculpted decoration of the choir [2] were recovered and reassembled [3]. Some were found to be in relatively good condition; others, on the contrary, had been badly mutilated, making their interpretation more difficult.
Eight of these capitals are now on display in the monks’ former “farinier” (ill. 2). The layout adopted is the one proposed in 1948 by Kenneth John Conant [4]. It attempts to restore, in the confined space of one of the abbey’s buildings, a very small-scale image of the former hemicycle of the church choir. On either side of the whole, the American archaeologist had placed two other capitals found on the site, but whose place in the edifice remained undetermined: on one, we recognize a representation of Original Sin [5], while the other develops the story of Abraham’s sacrifice [6]. This staging was criticized, because of the implicit relationship it suggested between the series of sculptures in the choir, homogeneous and located with certainty, and these reliefs of imprecise origin. Nevertheless, it has long been respected.

The eight capitals are now displayed on fragments of their former supports. Only the large figure formerly painted on the apse conch is definitively missing, "the Christ seated on clouds, leaning on the Gospel and surrounded by the animals of the Apocalypse [7] " which closed the axis of the church and surmounted its most sacred point [8]. It was this image, which combined the vision of Ezekiel in the Old Testament [9] and that of John in the Apocalypse [10], that the capitals bore. It is in relation to that image that we can attempt to interpret them (ill. 2 and 3).

2. The eight capitals of the choir of the great church of Cluny
Cluny, monks’ flour mill.
Photo: BSG
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3. Berzé-la-Ville, Monks’ chapel, view of the apse
Without being a replica of the decoration in the apse at Cluny,
this image of Christ is undoubtedly very close.
Photo: Académie de Mâcon
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THE CAPITAL OF ORIGINAL SIN

In 2006, a detailed examination of the sculptures on the capital illustrating the original sin (ill. 4), formerly displayed in the Musée du Farinier [11], revealed the works that had influenced the monks of Saint Hugues in their depiction of this episode from Genesis [12].
Among these inspiring texts, the prominence of Saint Ambrose was hardly surprising. At the time when the iconographic programme for the great church was being drawn up, the Cluny library possessed most of his writings, sometimes in several copies [13]. One of his treatises is about paradise [14], and the examination of the seven days of Genesis [15]. The influence of Greek patrology was more unexpected [16], while Dominique Iogna-Prat had already noted the influence of Christian Neoplatonism on Cluniac thought [17]. Many of the unusual features of this first capital have justification and meaning in the meditations of Gregory of Nyssa, or in those of Maximus the Confessor and of the pseudo-Areopagite, to which the monks had access through the Latin translations of John Scotus Eriugena [18]. Works such as the De Imagine [19] of Grégoire, the Ambigua [20] of Maximus or La Hiérarchie céleste [21] of the pseudo Denys were, at the time of the construction of the great abbey church, well known in Cluny, where they were read and meditated upon. They appeared in the monastery library [22].

4. Capital of original sin
View of the main face
Late 11th - early 12th century
Cluny, Ochier Museum
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But, as much as the riches of Greek patrology, it has become apparent that John Scotus’ personal theology played a central role in iconographic choices, sometimes inexplicable without reference to his work. We know that his meditation, pursued through several texts, is summed up in his great treatise Periphyseon [23], and it is precisely the text of the Periphyseon ─ present in the Cluny library [24], like his Latin translations of Cappadocian treatises ─ that often offers the best commentary on certain figures. The same applies to the organization of the various scenes, and to the many liberties taken by the monks with the text of the Bible.
The Original Sin capital was apparently devoid of mystery. The theme was perfectly identifiable, and the reading was not difficult. Analysis of the choices made in organizing the three images that make up the capital has shown that it is not simply an illustration of a passage from the Old Testament, but a particular interpretation of that passage, an interpretation that accurately illustrates the exegesis that John Scotus developed over the course of this long dialogue between a master and his disciple, which continues throughout the five Books of the Periphyseon.
Of course, the location of the capital found in the ruins remains undetermined within the church’s sculpted decor. It also goes without saying that the sources identified for a work of uncertain origin were not necessarily the same as those that presided over the development of an iconographic programme for the vital center of the building. Unlike the capitals in the choir, this is a rectangular capital, decorated on three sides and surmounting a support set into a pier or wall. It features a dynamic composition that follows the sacred text, progressing from right to left.
"The snake [...] told to the woman: [...] "You shall not die. But God knows that the day you eat [of the forbidden fruit], your eyes will be opened and you will be like gods who know good and evil". The woman saw that the tree was good [...] she took of its fruit and ate. She also gave some to her husband [...] Then their eyes were opened [...] and they knew they were naked. [...] They heard the footsteps of the Lord God walking in the garden on the evening breeze, and the man and the woman hid from God among the trees [25]."
On the first side, Adam and Eve, standing naked, take up all the space and bite into the forbidden apple (ill. 5 and 6). The main side depicts God’s "walk" at dusk (ill. 4). God, in the person of Christ, standing in the center of the panel, advances towards the third side, which features a second depiction of the primitive couple, hidden behind a tree (ill. 12).

The sin episode

The first anomaly in this presentation, which at first glance conforms to the biblical account, is in the double gesture of the original couple simultaneously biting into the forbidden fruit (ill. 5). This curious simultaneity, which seems to contradict Genesis, is in fact a faithful and highly expressive illustration of a collective conception of original sin, as expounded by John Scotus [26], in the works of Saint Augustine [27], and especially in those of Gregory of Nyssa [28]. On this first side of the capital, Adam is a double creature, one half of whom is called Eve.

5. Original sin capital
Adam and Eve
A collective image of sin
Cluny, Ochier Museum
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6. Original sin capital
Adam and Eve in the garden
Cluny, Ochier Museum
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The Cluniac capital shows that originally, and until the sin it is committing on this first panel, the dual human nature was undifferentiated or almost so. This is proclaimed by the asexual anatomy of the man and woman, yet erected here in frank nudity [29]. The mention of a moustache and a beard, indicated by a series of wavy lines engraved in parallel on either side of Adam’s mouth and on his cheek, does clarify the identity of each of the two figures, which their anatomy would not necessarily allow us to distinguish. This is not an androgynous creature, but a dual one. The masculine intellect is combined, but not confused, with the sensitive, feminine perception, and this is what the sculptor has highlighted on the two opposite sides of the capital.
It is therefore surprising to find this superior figure of Adam, clearly identified by his hair system, not only set back, but below the figure of Eve, which the sculptor has raised on a slight mound (ill. 6). Such a presentation is, however, in line with the letter of Genesis, and reflects the perplexity of the exegetes. Adam was indeed created outside Paradise, and only then was he brought by the Creator to the Garden of Eden. This is not the case with Eve, who not only was not fashioned from earth, but was created from man, inside Paradise. These details, embarrassing for the hierarchical conception of the double human creature, are eliminated by John Scotus, as by Ambrose [30]. Eve’s seemingly pre-eminent position is balanced here by her proximity to the snake, a topographical proximity that must be understood as a proximity of nature, and which re-establishes the dynamic of sin as set out in the Bible: it was the sensitive, feminine part that introduced sin and led the intelligible, masculine part. This is obviously affirmed by Adam’s withdrawal behind his companion, and by his finger pointing at her.

7. Capital of original sin
A quadruple apple
Cluny, Ochier Museum
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The sin itself is curiously treated in a triple or quadruple sequence: on the left, the snake, coiled on the tree, probably once presented an apple to Eve, who, with her right hand, brings another one to her mouth, while, with her left, she holds out a third to Adam, already eating a fourth (ill. 7). This is the very principle of Futurist painting, which concentrates in a single drawing the different stages of a movement that unfolds over time. These three or four apples break down the fourfold mechanism of sin: that of temptation, that of the consent of the feminine-sensible part, that of the communication of the fault to the intelligible-masculine part, and finally that in which the sin is shared by the intellect-Adam. There is, however, an important nuance, for it must be understood that this unfolding does not take place in time. It is merely causal, in line with John Scotus’ reading of the story, for whom the division of the sacred narrative is merely a means of making accessible to the weakness of human understanding a synthetic reality which, without this pedagogical fragmentation, would elude it. The capital describes a situation inscribed in eternity. Once again, we can only admire the bold synthesis achieved by the image, which, in the opposite direction to the textual development, recapitulates all its aspects. Surprisingly, this panel has never been associated with the beginnings of cinema, or with the Futurist works deemed so original eight hundred years later, and more specifically with Marcel Duchamp’s Nude descending a staircase. In both cases we have a nude (or two), in both cases an almost asexual anatomical abstraction, and in both cases the graphic synthesis of a progression.

On the capital, the tree of sin is depicted as an apple tree, according to an iconographic tradition dating back to the 5th century [31], and its design is, once again, a faithful illustration of the Erigenian texts. Just as Adam and Eve stood up straight before sin, the apple tree adopts the same straightness, below the corner scroll. Indications of size on the tree trunk, which the most recent cleaning of the stone has unfortunately blurred, show that this straightness was intentional. However, a curved branch stands out from the trunk, "irrational [32]" (ill. 8), which escaped pruning and on which the snake found its support. According to John Scotus, the creation is that of an ordered universe within which sin has introduced an irrational movement that has broken the order. The branch that escapes from the trunk, and which the sculptor has taken care to bend, is the image of this "irrational movement", in which Eriugena recognizes the mechanism of sin. We also note that this branch escapes from the base of the trunk, which might seem illogical were it not for the fact that the Periphyseon once again provides an explanation for this new anomaly. According to John Scotus, sin immediately followed man’s creation because "if man had resided in Paradise, even for a short time, he would necessarily have attained perfection [33]"

8. Capital of original sin
The tree of Knowledge, straight and pruned
and the "irrational" branch.
Cluny, Ochier Museum
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9. Original sin capital
"Adam, where are you?
Cluny, Ochier Museum
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God’s Walk

The main face, the largest, depicts God’s "walk" at dusk in the garden of Paradise. God, in the form of Christ identified by a cruciferous nimbus, turns his back on the snake and heads for the next side, where the two culprits are hiding. Dressed in tunic and cloak, Jesus raises his left hand like an ancient orator - "Adam, where are you?" (ill. 9). With his right, he points a gigantic, accusing index finger at the two sinners huddled under the fig tree. This double gesture once again recapitulates, in a single figure, the entire dialogue between God and the sinners reported in the Bible, from the moment when the evening breeze lifts the folds of the divine cloak, to the condemnation of the sin and the expulsion from Paradise, which sends Adam and Eve on the next side, i.e. out of the paradisiacal enclosure. The large index finger refers to the one Adam points at Eve on the previous side, establishing an echoing continuity between sin and punishment.

10. Capital of original sin
Christ, tree of Life in the middle of the garden
Cluny, Ochier Museum
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The choice of Christ in place of God the Creator is in keeping with iconographic traditions: God the Father cannot be represented, as "the divine essence is never knowable in itself [34]". But through his Incarnation, the Son of Man offered men an image of it. Once again, the scene gives an account of the details mentioned in Genesis and the interpretations of theologians. For the Bible names only three trees in Paradise: the first is "the tree of the Knowledge of Good and Evil", recognized as an apple tree and present on the right-hand corner of the panel; the second is the fig tree, which the two culprits use to hide their nakedness after sinning, and which occupies the opposite corner. In the middle of the garden is the third, "the Tree of Life [35]", in which exegetes have recognized Christ. In all likelihood, this interpretation gives a particular meaning to the a priori surprising branch of vegetation seen sprouting from the nimbus surrounding the divine figure. The image thus juxtaposes God’s walk, with its consequences, as evoked in the Bible, and the Tree of Life, "planted in the middle of the garden", as Christ stands in the middle of the capital, between the apple and fig trees, offering a clear and complete theological transcription of the sacred text.

By turning his back on the apple tree and its "irrational" branch, on which the tempting snake undulates, Christ isolates, like an anomaly, this sequence of curves within a series of almost vertical rectitudes (ill. 10): the double straightness of the original couple, the straightness of the pruned apple tree, and finally the straightness of his own silhouette, to whose image the others conform. This layout is the transcription of a theory that Christianity inherited from Antiquity [36]: Man, unlike animals, stands upright because he was created to contemplate heaven. This certainty is taken up in many passages by John Scotus, who refers to the etymology of the word anthropian by which the Greeks designated humanity, "i.e. "conversion upwards", or "ἂνω τηροῦσα ὀπία", i.e. "view turned upwards" [37]." Conversely, the straightness of Christ is surrounded by the snake and fig tree, which border the panel on the right and left.

The fig tree

11. Capital of original sin
Adam and Eve hidden in the leaves of the fig tree
Cluny, Musée Ochierr
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Like the apple tree of Knowledge of Good and Evil, the fig tree, planted in the opposite corner, structures the capital by marking the passage from one panel to the next (ill. 11). Each tree is used by the sculptor to separate the scenes and reinforce their meaning. In contrast to the original couple, standing in straightforward - not to say stiff - nudity, on this third side, the two figures are bent and stooped, huddled behind the tree that largely conceals them. Paradoxically, in this couple whose anatomy, so frankly exposed on the first panel, is now almost entirely hidden by leaves, confusion between them is no longer possible: a heavily bearded Adam precedes a long-haired Eve. Sin has caused humanity to fall into sexuality [38], and this transformation is underlined by Adam’s gesture of folding a leaf towards his lower abdomen. What was united is now separated. Man has descended to the level of animal life, and this is why he appears bent over, like the "irrational" branch of the apple tree and the snake curling along it. The echo between the figures is deliberate, and this image of sinful humanity is once again a precise illustration of John Scotus’ texts, which repeat those of Ambrose [39] and, like him, contrasts the body "which has a vertical and human form" with that which has "a curved and animal form". Like the snake, condemned to crawl on its belly [40], fallen man allows himself to be drawn down to the ground in the image of animals "deprived of reason". We might add that the trees depicted belong to the same scheme, and transpose a text by Ambrose [41] who examines the "feminine" lust of trees which makes them bend over, as in this case the fig tree, to receive fertilization from male trees whose branches remain erect [42].

The Bible doesn’t specifically mention the fig tree, but the text says that upon discovering their nakedness, Adam and Eve gathered leaves to make loincloths and went to hide "among the trees". The representation of the fig tree again superimposes the two episodes, but like each of the images on the capital, it goes beyond this simple summary. For this fig tree is a sterile fig tree - which the Bible does not specify - unlike the two apple trees to its right and left, and the other fig-bearing Cluniac fig tree that adorns the Paradise capital in the choir. In fact, sexuality, like the corporality of which it is a consequence, is the fruit of sin and, as such, is linked to the death that Adam will now have to face. The barrenness of the fig tree illustrates the opposition, recurrent in the Bible, between its leaves and its fruit, a theme of abundant exegesis, which has made it a marker of the presence of good or evil in human nature or in the chosen people. Once again, the trees respond to each other, and the opposition is deliberate.

The second apple tree

12. Capital of original sin
The apple tree of sensitive creation and Eve’s heel
(Pph IV, 853D, vol. 3, p. 222.)
Cluny, Ochier Museum
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One last very surprising detail requires explanation. At the left end of the capital, behind the two sinners hidden among the fig tree leaves, the sculptor has featured a second apple tree, which is never mentioned in Genesis (ill. 12). Its appearance is all the more unexpected given that the presentation of Adam and Eve as sinners refers, in reverse, to the first scene, in which the same couple, still innocent, occupies the entire surface of the panel. On this last side, the two sinners are squeezed together in the right-hand corner, as if to make room for the small apple tree that brings the episode to a close. That is indeed the case, and it’s again in the text of the Periphyseon that we can look for the meaning of this unexpected motif.

The "Tree of the Knowledge of Good and Evil", represented as an apple tree, belongs to God’s creation, which is good. To understand the irruption of sin within this perfect creation, willed and approved by God [43], John Scotus assimilates "the tree of the Knowledge of good and evil" to an image of sensible creation, and proposes a comparison with a precious vase presented to a wise man and a miser [44]: the wise man admires its beauty, the miser desires to possess it. This is where the irrational movement arises that disturbs the divine order, but in no way affects the vessel, whose perfection remains intact and always available to the wise man. Eriugena concludes that the image received by the wise man is "simple and natural [45]", as man himself was before sin, while the one aroused in the miser is "doubled and mixed" with the irrational movement of greed. This duality, perfectly illustrated in the first apple tree, is one of the essential points of the Erigenian conception of sin. The irrational movement represented by the curved branch, around which the snake is coiled, has split in two the tree of Knowledge, created by God simple and straight.
Expelled from Paradise, Adam and Eve now find themselves reduced to that sensible part of creation which they have longed to possess, and which they can only apprehend through their carnal senses. Having lost the direct vision of God and Truth they had been granted in Paradise - experienced, for the last time, in the face-to-face conversation between God and Adam - they are condemned to progress slowly, painfully, from the observation of the sensible, i.e. deceptive appearances, through the twists and turns of the deductive method and the groping work of reason. For it is from the sensible that they will now have to extract their knowledge [46]. The intellect-Adam is thus forced to pass through the intermediary of his external sense-Eve, in order to gather the spiritual fruits of the sensible creation, represented by the apple tree covered with apples. This is one of the reasons why the order of the second couple is reversed. At the moment of sin, Eve, placed on an eminence, is ahead of Adam and dominates him, as he follows her from below, but she is also ahead of him in relation to the snake. After sin, driven out of Paradise, a lower Eve follows Adam, who faces Christ, re-establishing the hierarchy according to which man is the leader of woman, and the leader of man is Christ [47]. In this way, the figures intersect and respond to each other from one panel to the next.

13. Capital of original sin
Eve’s heel
Cluny, Ochier Museum
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Eve is thus closer to the small, upright apple tree of sensitive creation, and it is she, the external sense, sensible or sensory part of the human creature, who has access to it. It is very remarkable that in this nude couple, now clearly differentiated, the only anatomical detail highlighted is Eve’s ankle, with its foot and heel (ill. 13). "I will put enmity between you and the woman, God declared to the snake, after the sin, between your lineage and hers. He will crush your head and you will strike his heel [48]."
Again, we must ask John Scotus for the meaning of this phrase, in which Christianity has read a messianic promise. Eriugena, for once departing from the Greek text, which announces a male heel, recognizes in Eve’s heel an image of the five sensory organs (sight, hearing, smell, touch and taste) "which the devious snake seeks to ensnare [49]". Insofar as the inspirational text is the Periphyseon, it seems natural to see this heel of Eve projected, in a particularly visible way, in the direction of the little apple tree, since it is henceforth from what her senses perceive that the human creature can progress towards the truth and pierce the mystery of the world, through observation and reasoning [50].
On the first side, the sculptor has depicted a solar flower above Adam’s head [51] with seven petals (ill. 14), an image of the harmony of the first creation, and of original man’s intimacy with it, i.e. with divine Truth. The two motifs both oppose and complement each other: the solar flower, placed at the upper limit of the capital, concerns the intellect-Adam, whose head it almost touches - this is what inspired Peter the Venerable in his sermon on the transfiguration of Christ [52] and it provides the best commentary on the image before us. Meditating on the divine light poured out on man by the very presence of God, he exclaims: "This sun does not set for you but, ever identical, pours out an eternal morning". The little apple tree of sensible creation, on the other hand, speaks low to the ground, to Eve’s heel stretched out towards it.

14. Capital of original sin
The Intellect-Adam
"Iste sol ultra tibi non occidet sed,
idem semper manens, perpetuum mane serenat".
This sun does not set for you but,
always the same, gives you an eternal morning
Cluny, Ochier Museum
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As on the first apple tree, the mark of repeated pruning, once clearly visible [53] on the trunk of this unusual tree, indicating that its initial straightness needs to be monitored. Sensible creation, good in itself, is sufficient for man to return to God, following the example of Abraham who, even before Revelation, deduced the existence of a Unique God from the observation of the stars. In his examination of the various sensory organs, John Scotus dwells on the use of sight, which enables man to project himself towards that which is different, separate and distant. He observes that Abraham’s rectitude, thanks to this correctly oriented sensory faculty, enabled him to anticipate Revelation. This creates an unexpected link, different from the traditional, well-established and well-known link in the Church, between this capital of Sin and that of Abraham, presented as its counterpart by Kenneth John Conant.
The precise detail of Eve’s heel towards the tree of sensitive creation opens the capital to the sinner’s present condition. The story told here is not ancient and finished, but present and in the making. It is no longer even a story, but rather the synthetic image of the human condition created in eternity, and fallen, because of sin. For "the plantation made by God, i.e. Paradise [...] is none other than human nature created in the Image of God [54]", and the fruit-covered trees represent the divine gifts offered to humanity. This equivalence between Paradise and human nature was known at Cluny, and is used and developed by Peter the Venerable in another sermon dedicated to the Holy Sepulchre [55]. God ordered Adam to "cultivate" and "keep" Paradise. This double injunction must be seen in the context of the double qualification in Genesis of an original man created "in the Image and likeness" of God. Having received, without any merit on his part, a nature "in the Image", man was to achieve resemblance through obedience. This is what he failed to do. He has failed to "keep" the Image, but he can regain it by building the "resemblance". It’s not too late to "cultivate" the land of Paradise, as the little pruned apple tree invites him to do.
But the Man in the Image has not disappeared. On the opposite side, the first, he remains erect, now invisible to sinners driven from Paradise, but still present in his glorious, innocent nakedness, and due to reappear in the Resurrection [56]. Humanity is now separated from God, and this separation is materialized by the fig tree placed like a screen between Christ and our first parents. Its corollary is death, manifested in the tree’s sterility. The articulation between the two panels, perpendicular to each other, illustrates this current belonging to two different spaces. But for the Cluniac sculptor, as for John Scotus and Ambrose, God has not closed the door, and the cruciferous nimbus surrounding his face contains the promise of salvation through Christ’s Passion and Resurrection. Sinful man can come back, return to the original Paradise and re-enter it, if he wants to and if he gives himself the means: "God has placed you in front of Paradise," writes John Scotus, quoting Ambrose, "so that you do not lose the memory of Paradise [57]". The need and desire for a return is expressed by the reverse orientation of the sinful couple who, after a succession of images articulated from right to left, turn back to the right, to the lost Paradise at the center of which is Christ, the tree of life.

EIGHT SUPPORTS

At Cluny, eight supports held the apse conch (ill. 15). In an oversized church, where it would have been logical to multiply them, this is a surprising minimum, and the figure of eight seems astonishingly low. Yet it is attested to by archaeology and by descriptions prior to the building’s demolition [58]. However, during excavation campaigns on the site, archaeologists were surprised to discover that the church’s builders had originally planned ten vault projections on the outer wall of the ambulatory that encircled the apse. They concluded that the original programme had been changed during construction, and that the number of supports had been reduced from ten to eight, without however finding the reason for the change. This oddity, in conjunction with other irregularities found in the church, was described by Francis Salet as a "solution of despair [59]", in the face of supposedly insurmountable technical or financial difficulties.

15. The eight capitals of the choir.
Cluny, monks’ flour mill.
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However, if the construction of Cluny III was obviously not a one-shot affair and "was not quite as easy as it is said to have been [60]", it’s hard to believe that, for what was the center and living heart of the entire abbey - i.e., the choir of the head of order’s church - a "solution of despair" would have been enough. This is all the more unthinkable given that such an undertaking was a prestigious achievement that no practical necessity could fully justify. When Hugues de Semur, returning from Italy, launched the construction of the church, the Cluniac order was at the height of its influence. The church he built was the largest in contemporary Christendom, reflecting the most powerful monastic empire that has existed to this day. The new building was, among other functions, the tangible expression of the unrivalled prestige of an institution whose political, social and economic success was founded first and foremost on a spiritual adventure, and acted, through the brilliance of this image, as an instrument for the conversion of secular society beyond that of the clerics themselves [61].

If we take into account this state of mind, which was one of the driving forces behind the undertaking ─ if not the real driving force ─ it becomes difficult to accept too easily the hypothesis of an approximate layout of the most sacred part of the sanctuary, even allowing for the difficulties that accompany any ambitious construction. This is all the more unthinkable given that, while the elimination of two supports could represent a saving on stone and on the work of the sculptors, one wonders to what extent those savings would offset the problems of solidity and balance that it most likely posed. The reality of difficulties of this nature is attested by the collapse of part of the vault in 1125, during the abbatiate of Peter the Venerable. But more than that, if the change in the architectural programme at a given time is a certainty that can be read in the remains of this part of the building, there is no reason to seek its cause solely in material constraints, for an octagonal pattern is repeated in the upper parts of the building, in the domes that bear the bell towers and in these same bell towers that make it gush outwards, repeated at the ends of the transept like a triumphant affirmation (ill. 16 and 17). In an edifice whose primary function was to express a conception of the world, of the Church, of monasticism and its place in society, it is conceivable that a necessity other than technical or material may have imposed itself during construction, modifying the builders’ initial project by reducing the number of supports from ten to eight. Unless the audacity of reducing them thus in the apse was envisaged from the outset, but the master builder capable of taking it on and seeing it through was found only later, i.e. after work had begun.

16. Cluny, octagonal cupola
under the transept bell tower
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17. Cluny, octagonal bell tower of the great church
above the abbot’s palace of Dom Dathose
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The christening number

These are all hypotheses, and the first question they implicitly raise is whether such a reduction in supports in a monument where it would have seemed more logical to multiply them [62] may make sense. In other words, can the traditional symbolism attached to the number eight - a very old symbolism, transmitted and diffused throughout the Church by the texts of the Fathers - in itself justify such a change? We know that eight is the number of baptism, that of Noah and the passengers on the ark, in other words, that of humanity saved from the Flood [63] This is the raison d’être of octagonal baptisteries (ill. 18). In a poem celebrating the baptistery in Milan, St. Ambrose even makes the octagon a building constraint: "the fountain, to be worthy of its role, must be octagonal. It is on the number eight that must be built the church where holy baptism is given, where the people find salvation [64]. A study of the baptisteries shows that, although the injunction of the Bishop of Milan was not systematically complied with, a majority of the buildings did comply. [65].
Admittedly, the church built by Hugues de Semur was not a baptistery, and its overdeveloped basilica plan, with its two transepts and double collateral, was drawn from sources other than the poem by Saint Ambrose ; However, the sheer size of the building, which magnifies all the possible parts of an edifice of this type, and which articulates narthex, nave, side aisles, transepts, apsidioles, bell towers and, finally, a choir with ambulatory and radiating chapels, may open the way to understanding the anomaly represented by the number of supports in the apse. Indeed, if we are to believe H. de Lubac, "the assimilation of monastic profession to baptism had already been made in ancient monasticism and had therefore become classic [66]".

18. Lateran Baptistery
Around 312-313, altered in 432 and 440.
Photo: D.R.
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This assimilation, which may seem surprising today, nevertheless follows a logic which is precisely that of the symbolism of the number eight. For eight is the number of recommencement. For the monk, the ceremony during which he pronounced his vows [67], in the same way as baptism, ushered in a new life for those who committed themselves to it; a new birth, a new life, a new creation, the perspective that opened up before Noah and his family after the flood was offered to the newly baptized; it became more precise and refined in the consecrated life. But it is always the same perspective, the one that leads man to the final resurrection and the world to the end of time. Just as the limit assigned by God to Creation is contained in the number seven, eight represents the passage beyond, the universe having reached its end and returned to its Principle, the vision of Saint John in the Apocalypse, the heavenly Jerusalem emerging from the divine Word: "Behold, I make all things new [68]". And, in medieval thought, it is in the cipher itself that this new beginning of the world implicitly resides, as if it was enclosed within it. Ambrose expressed this very well when he asked: "Who would doubt the greater dignity of the number eight, which has given man an entirely new life? [69]. In its formulation, the question attributes to the figure a virtue that is not only that of baptism, of monastic profession, of the renewal of the world and of purified man, but that is also at the source of this unique transformation manifested in a plural manner, whose completion is beatitude, i.e. the return of the sinner to his initial perfection, "for, as perfection is the octave of our hope, in the same way, the octave is the sum of our virtues [70]".
Again, we owe this comparison to St. Ambrose, who presents the number as the guarantor of the mechanisms contained within it. For example, the bishop of Milan writes: "The number eight, once attached to the ancient Law", "is now attached to baptism and resurrection [71] "The passages from the Old to the New Testament, from death to life, from sin to purification, from corruption to resurrection, form in reality a single passage enclosed in the mystery of the octave. This is why the number eight also expresses the expectation and hope of every baptized person, as proclaimed in the last profession of faith of the Credo: "I look forward to the resurrection of the dead, and life of the world to come [72]". During Hugues de Semur’s abbatiate, it was in the mother church that all monks took their vows - regardless of the monastery to which they were attached - and this requirement, in view of this symbolism, takes on its full meaning in such a building.
It is interesting to find all the phrases we’ve just quoted in the texts of one of the Fathers whose work was particularly well represented in the abbey’s library [73]. This is because each of them is extracted from works whose presence is not only attested in Cluny at the time of Saint Hugues, but of which the library possessed several copies and, better still, of which some of the manuscripts had been copied on the spot. Veronika von Büren, who highlighted the exceptional richness of the Ambrosian collection in the Cluniac catalog [74] at the same time as the church was being built, also points out that this wealth is an "exception among Benedictine houses [75]".

The number of bliss

19. Codex aureus of Saint Emmeran of Regensburg, circa 870.
precious stones, pearls, cloisonné glass,
gold filigree - 42 x 33 cm
Munich, Bayerische Staatsbibliothek
Photo: Bayerische Staatsbibliothek
See the image in its page

There is no question of citing here all the texts that refer, before the 11th century, to this symbolism, and our intention is not to explore this [76], but rather to examine the extent of its influence in the construction of Cluny III, perhaps to the point of providing in itself a sufficient reason for the change in the number of apse supports. Nevertheless, it should be remembered that studies of the use of the octagonal pattern in early medieval art have all concluded that it was consciously, voluntarily and rationally applied. The closest architectural example was Charles the Bald’s palatial chapel at Compiègne, a royal octagonal church, like Charlemagne’s at Aachen. In a poem addressed to King Charles [77], John Scotus celebrates it as the mirror of the universe created in divine Wisdom. His enthusiasm stems from the importance he attaches in his work to the symbolism of numbers, and particularly to that of the octave. Works showing Christ in an 8 are not a rarity, and they all have the same meaning (ill. 19 and 20). [78].

For the Irish theologian, as for the bishop of Milan, numbers exist by themselves and form the reality of the world: "for it is in numbers that the essence of all existing things subsists [79]. For John Scotus, however, the number eight is associated with beatitude, the final and perfect fulfillment of the contemplative life, rather than with baptism. For him, baptism is less a birth, in the sense that the word expresses the immediate and irreversible passage from one state to another, than the beginning of a complex process of transformation and a return of man to God [80]. It "prefigures the transformation of flesh into spirit [81]", a transformation that is none other than the true theme of his great treatise of the Periphyseon. Sinful man has been expelled from Paradise, and it is with his expulsion that the last Book begins, like the presentation of the cycle of capitals once organized by Kenneth John Conant at the Musée du Farinier: lowered because of his sin into a body of flesh, limited in his understanding of the world and of himself to what is perceived by his senses, Adam, and in him all of humanity, can nevertheless return to his original state by an effect of divine grace and by inner work. Both are necessary, and monastic life is the ultimate form of inner work. As heir to Greek Patrology [82], John Scotus envisages salvation as a return to the initial Creation, which is accomplished through a transformation of the creature towards its Principle and which ends, after several stages, in Beatitude, "pure and direct contemplation of the divine Essence Itself [83]. This final Beatitude is, according to him, "the eighth degree of contemplation, [...] and it is by participating in the Beatitude itself as in the eighth of the primordial causes, that all the blessed are blessed [84]". The meaning of this last sentence, which is a priori obscure, but in which the supernatural hope towards which Erigenian thought aims is clear, belongs to a scheme for which John Scotus owes a debt to Dionysius the pseudo-Areopagite [85] In its formulation, it bears a strange similarity to the Cluny phrase accompanying the eighth tone of the music, which asserts, in a way that is cryptic for the 21st-century reader, that the saints are blessed: "Octavus sanctos omnes docet esse beatos". Not that the Cluniac phrase was borrowed from John Scotus ─ it is undoubtedly original, as it belongs to a versified set where each tone is identified by a verse ─ but these blessed of the Erigenes, who are blessed by participating in the eighth of the primordial causes, are undoubtedly quite closely related to the Cluniac saints who are blessed in the eighth tone. Note that at the end of the Periphyseon, the master’s last words, the ultimate thought on which this very long dialogue, which continues for five Books, ends, is precisely a praise of the octave, the number of the Resurrection of Christ and the deification of man transported into God, the completion and crowning of the ascent of the creatures towards their Creator [86], just as the cycle of Cluny capitals ends in the octave. Peter the Venerable takes up the same symbolism and applies it to Christ’s Transfiguration [87], the premise of his resurrection [88].

20. Antependium from the Seu d’Urgell, 12th century
Christ in majesty enthroned in an 8 or in the praise of the octave.
Detrempe, metallic leaf varnished with gold on panel - 102.5 x 151 cm
Barcelona, National Museum of Catalan Art
Photo: MNAC
See the image in its page

Because the mystery of numbers reflects the divine order and, if we are to believe the Periphyseon, the final and beatific fusion that is to be established between God and His Creation, expressed perfectly by the octave, it is identical to that which unites, inside of the number eight, the five, the number of the sensible world, of "pentagonal man" endowed with five senses, with the three, which is the number of God, "when the number five of the creature will be united with the number three of the Creator" [89]. Humanity, and with it the whole of Creation, will first regain its lost perfection, after which, in the octave, in the eighth of the primordial causes or in the eighth tone, it will even be able to penetrate into divine intimacy and reach the "Sabbath of Sabbaths" [90], the ultimate goal of all ascent, where man will finally be able to contemplate God face to face. In this way, the celebration of the octave constitutes the visionary conclusion of the Erigenian treatise, the conclusion of a text that does not really have one [91], and which remains in abeyance, like the purified soul at the end of its mystical ascent, "when human nature, as we have said, will have returned to its Principle, through an eightfold ascent [92]".

We propose to show that this "octuple ascent" is the guiding thought behind the choice and arrangement of the sculptural decoration on the capitals of the choir of Cluny III.

Dominique Bonnet Saint-Georges

Footnotes

[1] B. Marguery-Melin, La Destruction de l’abbaye de Cluny, 1789-1823, Bulletin du centre d’études clunisiennes, Cluny, 1985

[2] N. Stratford, Le Corpus de la sculpture de Cluny. Les parties orientales de la grande église de Cluny III, Paris, 2011

[3] They were deposited in 1818-1819, before being purchased by Dr Ochier.

[4] K. J. Conant, Cluny et les maisons du chef d’ordre, Cambridge (Mass.), Mâcon, 1968 (Medieval Academy of America, 77), p. 87

[5] Gn. 3, 1-8.

[6] Gn. 22, 11-13.

[7] Letter from Alexandre Lenoir to Chaptal, August 7, 1800, quoted by K. J. Conant, op. cit. p. 11. There are other descriptions of this decoration which specify that, as at Berzé-la-Ville, the figure of Christ is inscribed in a mandorla: Benoît Dumoulin, docteur en médecine, Description historique et topographique de la ville, abbaye et banlieue de Cluny, manuscript kept at Cluny, Musée Ochier, Ms 71

[8] A virtual reconstruction of the apse has been carried out, Maior ecclesia, 2010, Arts et Métiers, Paris Tech, CMN.

[9] Ez. I, 4-14.

[10] Apoc. IV, 2-8.

[11] The capital is currently on display in the logis de Jean de Bourbon.

[12] D. Bonnet Saint-Georges, " Jean Scot à Cluny : Proposition de lecture pour le chapiteau du Péché originel ", Revue Mabillon, Nouvelle série 17 (t. 78), 2006, p. 53-74

[13] Veronika von Büren, who inventoried the Ambrosian collection in the monastery library, noted the "special place Cluny seems to have occupied in the transmission of Ambrosian works", "Ambroise de Milan dans la bibliothèque de Cluny", Scriptorium 47, 1993, p. 133.

[14] Sancti Ambrosii Opera CSEL 32, 1, ed. K. Schenckl, Prague 1897, De Paradiso, p. 265-336

[15] Sancti Ambrosii Opera CSEL 32, 1, ed. K. Schenckl, Prague 1897, Exameron, p. 3-261

[16] It is worth noting, however, that it is precisely to the Greek Fathers that Raoul Glaber refers from the very first lines of his work - a surprising choice, which we can relate to the repeated influence of their texts on Cluniac iconography. His first chapter on divine quaternity has been identified as a demarcation of Maximus the Confessor’s Ambigua (ambiguum 41). P. E. Dutton, "Raoul Glaber’s "De divina quaternitate", an unnoticed reading of Eriugena’s translation of the Ambigua of Maximus the Confessor", Medieval Studies, 42, 1980, pp. 431-453

[17] D. Iogna-Prat, "Entre les leçons de l’Écriture et les enseignements du platonisme chrétien. La vie de saint dans le Cluny de l’an mil" Xe siècle, Recherches nouvelles, Hugues Capet (987-1987) La France de l’an mil, edited by P. Riché, C. Heintz, F. Heber-Suffrin, Nanterre 1987, p. 39-41. Agni immaculati, Recherches sur les sources hagiographiques relatives à saint Maïeul de Cluny (954-994), Paris, Cerf, 1988

[18] É. Jeauneau, “Jean Scot Érigène et le grec”, Archivum Latinitatis Medii Aevi, XLI (1979), pp. 5-50. The Cluny library kept two copies of John Scotus’s translation of the pseudo-Denys’s Hiérarchie céleste

[19] M. Cappuyns, « Le De Imagine de Grégoire de Nysse traduit par Jean Scot », Recherches de théologie ancienne et médiévale, t. 32, I, 1965. Gregorys text has had different titles at different times. The French version is that of J. J. Courtiau, Grégoire de Nysse, La Création de l’homme, SC 6, 1944.

[20] M. Cappuyns, « La Versio Ambiguorum Maximi de Jean Scot Érigène « Recherches de théologie ancienne et médiévale, 30, 1963. É. Jeauneau, Maximi Confessoris Ambigua ad Iohannem, juxta Iohannis Scotti Eriugenae latinam interpretationem, Turnhout, Leuven, 1988, CCSG 18. É. Jeauneau, « Jean l’Érigène et les Ambigua ad Iohannem de Maxime le Confesseur », Maximus Confessor, F. Heinzer, C. Schönborn (eds), Fribourg, 1982, pp. 343-364. Saint Maxime le Confesseur, Ambigua, Apories, introd. J. C. Larchet, trans. E. Ponsoye, D. Staniloae, ed. De l’Ancre, Suresnes, 1994

[21] Iohannis Scotti Eriugenae Expositiones in Ierarchiam caelestem, ed. J. Barbet, CCCM 31, Turnhout, 1975. H. F. Dondaine, " Les Expositiones in Ierarchiam caelestem sancti Dyonisii, de Jean Scot Érigène ", Archéologie et histoire doctrinale et littéraire du Moyen-Âge, 28, 1950-1951.

[22] É. Jeauneau, " La bibliothèque de Cluny et les œuvres de l’Érigène ", Pierre Abélard et Pierre le Vénérable, Colloque internat. du CNRS 546, Cluny 1972, Paris 1975, p. 703-725. V. von Büren, "Le grand catalogue de la bibliothèque de Cluny", Le gouvernement d’Hugues de Semur, Actes du colloque scientifique international, Cluny 1988, Paris 1990, p. 245-264.

[23] É. Jeauneau, Ioannis Scotti seu Eriugenae Periphyseon, Turnhout, 1996-2003, CCCM 161-165. The annotated French translation of the text was made by F. Bertin, Jean Scot Érigène, De la division de la nature, Periphyseon, Livres I-V, 4 vols, Paris, 1995-2009. All citations borrowed from the text of Jean Scot refer to it under the abbreviation Pph

[24] Veronika von Büren notes "la présence répétée de Jean Scot à la bibliothèque de Cluny", "Le grand catalogue", op. cit. p. 254, and refers to the work of É. Jeauneau, (op. cit.) and P. E. Dutton. P. E. Dutton, "Raoul Glaber’s "De divina quaternitate", an unnoticed reading of Eriugena’s translation of the Ambigua of Maximus the Confessor", Medieval Studies, 42, 1980.

[25] Gn. 3, 1-8.

[26] This theory is taken up and expounded in each Book of the Periphyseon, of which it constitutes one of the fundamental structures: Pph. I, 445 A, vol. 1, p. 70, II, 582 AB, vol. 1, p. 364-365, IV, 797 A, vol. 3, p. 138, etc], and is already found in the epistles of Saint Paul[[I Cor. 13, 22.

[27] Augustin, De peccatorum meritis et remissione, III, VI, 14: "Adhuc omnes ille unus fuerunt et in quo omnes beatitudine Paradisi expulsi sunt ".

[28] Gregory of Nyssa, The Creation of Man, XVI, 13, 14, trans. J. Laplace, SC. 6, 1943: "When Scripture says: "God created man", by the indeterminacy of this formula, it designates the whole of humanity"]. According to this interpretation, Adam is to be understood as a figure of universal man, in whom the entire human race is recapitulated. The sin was not committed by an individual, but through Adam by all mankind, as is perfectly illustrated by the concomitance of Adam’s and Eve’s actions.
In such a conception of the history of sin, the person of Eve could become a redundancy or, at the very least, a simple complementary image illustrating the plurality of sin or of sinners, but this is not the case. If we turn to the Erigenian texts, we learn that Adam, who in his original simplicity recapitulates humanity in all its individuals - and even the whole of creation through the multitude of its components - also combines within himself - by implication - the two extremes of this creation: its sensible part and its intelligible part. The intelligible part, noble, cerebral and masculine, assimilable to the intellect, is represented by Adam, while the sensitive part, low and weak, which could be reduced to perception or sensation, is on the contrary feminine, and is endorsed by Eve[[Sancti Ambrosii Opera CSEL 32, 1, K. Schenckl ed, Prague 1897, De Paradiso, 3, 12, p. 272: "Est etiam νοῦς tamquam Adam est et sensus tamquam Eva"

[29] "They were naked, it is true, but they were not stripped of the garments of virtue", Ambrose of Milan, De Paradiso, 13, 63, CSEL 32, 1, p. 322.

[30] Sancti Ambrosii Opera CSEL 32-1, De Paradiso, IV, 24, 16-18, p. 280. Pph. IV, 816 C, vol. 3, p. 168. John Scotus quotes Ambrose in his authoritative assertion of female inferiority. Man was created in an inferior place (in inferiori loco) - and this is indeed what the capital shows - but he is better, and the opposite applies to woman, who is inferior by self-evident decree[[Pph. IV, 817 BC, vol. 3, p. 169-170.

[31] The apple was born of a confusion between the word malum meaning evil and its homonym malum, which translates as apple

[32] "Evil, considered in itself, is absolutely nothing other than an irrational and perverse impulse, stemming from rational nature." Pph. IV, 826 A, vol. 3, p. 181

[33] Pph. IV, 809 C, vol. 3, p. 157.

[34] Pph. I, 447 C, vol. 1, p.74.

[35] Gn. 2, 9. "The Lord made all kinds of trees grow out of the ground, trees that are pleasing to the eye and good for food, and the tree of life in the middle of the garden, and the tree of the knowledge of good and evil

[36] S. O. Dickermann, De argumentis quibusdam apud Xenophontem, Platonem et Aristotelem obviis stuctura e hominis et animalium petitis, Inaugural Address at the University of Halle, 1909. M. Pellegrino, "Il "topos" dello "status rectus" nel contesto filosofico e biblico (A proposito di Ad Diognetum, 10, 1-2)", Mullus, Festschrift Th. Klauser, Münster Westf. 1964, pp. 273-281

[37] Pph. V, 941 D, vol. 4, p. 123.

[38] É. Jeauneau, "La division des sexes chez Grégoire de Nysse et chez Jean Scot Érigène", Eriugena, Studien zu seinen Quellen, ed. W. Beierwaltes, Heidelberg, 1980, p. 33-54

[39] É. Jeauneau, Le De Paradiso d’Ambroise dans le Livre IV du Periphyseon, Institut d’études augustiniennes, Paris, 1992. John Scotus is said to have transferred a quarter of Ambrose’s text to the Periphyseon. Sancti Ambrosii Opera 32, 1 K. Schenckl ed., Prague 1897, De Paradiso, 13, 63, p. 322-323

[40] Gn. 3, 14.

[41] Sancti Ambrosii Opera 32, 1, K. Schenckl ed, Prague 1897, Exameron, 55 A, p. 97: "Est etiam, quod mireris, ipsis sexus in pomis, est discretio sexus in arboribus? "

[42] "Quod [...]rursus erigitur et elevat ramos suos", Sancti Ambrosii Opera 32,1, K. Schenckl ed, Prague 1897, Exameron, 55 A, p. 98

[43] "And God saw that it was good" Gn. I, 1, 10, 12, 18, 21, 25, 31.

[44] Pph IV, 828 BCD, vol. 3, p. 184-185.

[45] Pph IV, 828 D, vol. 3, p. 185.

[46] A. Wohlman, L’Homme, le monde sensible et le péché dans la philosophie de Jean Scot Érigène, Paris, 1987

[47] Paul, I Cor. 11, 3. Ambrose uses the same formula: "Vir caput est mulieris", Sancti Ambrosii Opera 32, 1, K. Schenkl ed., Prague 1897, De Paradiso, IV, 24.

[48] Gn. 3, 15.

[49] Pph. IV, 854 C, vol. 3, p. 223. "The woman’s heel symbolizes the five sensory organs, informed by the images of sensible objects, which the devious snake seeks to trap" "The woman’s heel is subdivided into the five external senses" Pph IV, 853 D, vol. 3 p. 222.

[50] "After committing original sin, the human understanding no longer perceives anything, through the organs of its external senses, but the external appearance of sensible objects... etc. " Pph. IV, 855 A, vol. 3, p. 223.

[51] Petrus venerabilis cluniacensis abbas, Sermones, PL 189, Paris 1980, col. 959. Peter the Venerable meditates on Christ’s Transfiguration (Lc 9:28-33, Mt. 17:2), during which his face shone like the sun "sicut sol", and parallels it with a phrase from Matthew’s Gospel: "Then the righteous will shine like the sun in the Kingdom of their Father" (Mt. 13:43). And in the middle of a prolonged meditation, he adds: "Iste sol ultra tibi non occidet, sed idem semper manens perpetuum mane serenat". Peter the Venerable owes this image to Saint Ambrose, who presents Adam installed in Paradise "sicut solem in caelo expectantem regnum caelorum" and receiving Wisdom, "splendor lucis aeternae et manatio omnipotentis gloriae". CSEL 32, 1, De Paradiso, p. 267

[52] Petrus venerabilis cluniacensis abbas, Sermones, PL 189, Paris 1980, col. 959.

[53] Recent restoration has made it almost imperceptible. We now need the support of old photos to confirm this important detail for the understanding of this iconography

[54] Pph. IV, 829 BC, vol. 3, p. 186.

[55] Petrus venerabilis cluniacensis abbas, Sermones, PL 189, Paris 1980, col. 992 "Quid inquam, aliud, ut dictum est, in horto captus, in horto crucifixus, in horto mortuus, de horto resuscitatus, quam hominis per ista omnia ad hortum, id est ad paradisum reditum designasti?"

[56] "The spiritual body remains hidden at present in the secret folds of human nature, but this spiritual body will reappear in the future life when [...] our body will rise again in the glory of immortality and incorruptibility" Pph. II, 584 C, vol. 1, p. 368 Pph IV, 832 C, vol. 3, p. 191. Sancti Ambrosii Opera, CSEL 32,1, ed. K. Schenkl, Prague, 1897, De Paradiso, XI, 53

[57] Pph IV, 832 C, vol. 3, p. 191. Sancti Ambrosii Opera, op. cit. De Paradiso, XI, 53

[58] The eight supports are mentioned in 1682 by Mabillon in his Itinerarium burgundicum: "Toto vero machinae moles in absidiam paullo pressionem incumbit, octo columnis (quas singulos homines duo brachiis complectantur) ad miraculum sustulam". B. B. Dumoulin, Description historique et topographique de la ville, abbaye et banlieue de Cluny, manuscript, Cluny, Musée Ochier, ms 71, K. J. Conant, Cluny, les églises et la maison du chef d’ordre, Mâcon, Cambridge (Mass.), 1968, Anne Baud, Cluny, un grand chantier médiéval au cœur de l’Europe, Paris, 2003

[59] F. Salet, "Cluny III", Bulletin monumental 126, 1968, p. 278: "I mentioned the disagreement that exists in plan between the envelope of the ambulatory and the interior supports of the apse, and I said that the planting of eight columns on a traffic circle that required ten, was a solution of despair."

[60] F. Salet, "Cluny III", Bulletin monumental 126, 1968, p. 252.

[61] D. Iogna- Prat notes of Pierre le Vénérable that "the Christianity of the 11th-12th centuries, dreamed up by a great abbot of Cluny, thus gave itself the historic role of saving humanity"; Ordonner et exclure, Paris, 1998, p. 367. See also by the same author Agni immaculati, Recherches sur les sources hagiographiques relatives à saint Maïeul de Cluny, Paris 1988, the chapter "Les moines et l’éducation du monde". And "Entre anges et hommes : les moines doctrinaires de l’an Mil", La France de l’an Mil, Paris 1990, pp. 245-263

[62] Churches smaller than Cluny III have their apse carried by ten supports, as was originally planned at Cluny; this is the case of Fontevrault, Saint-Sernin de Toulouse, Saint-Savin sur Gartempe, etc.

[63] This symbolism goes back to the origins of the Church and the epistles of Saint Peter: I P 3, 20-22; 2 P 2, 5; 3, 6; it is a frequent theme in patristic literature, particularly in Maximus the Confessor: Ambigua 65, 67, PG 91, 1392 CD, 1393 A, 1397 CD, Gregory of Nyssa, Saint Ambrose..... It predates Christianity.

[64] "Octogonus fons est munere dignus eo"
" Hoc numero decuit sacri baptismatis aulam"
"Surgere, quo populo vera salus rediit", Poem in honor of the fountain of Saint Thecla in Milan.
Published by Gruter, Inscriptiones antiquae, p. 1166, no. 8, quoted by É. Mâle, L’Art religieux du XIIe siècle, Paris, 1958, I, p. 68, and note 48.

[65] Paul Saintenoy, "Prolégomènes à l’étude de la filiation des formes des fonts baptismaux, depuis les baptistères jus’au XVIe siècle", Annales de la soc. archéol. de Bruxelles, 1891-1892. According to this study, between the 11th and 16th centuries, for 32 baptisteries of circular plan and a few isolated examples of various plans, 67 were octagon-shaped

[66] H. de Lubac, Exégèse médiévale. Les quatre sens de l’Écriture, Paris, 1964, 1ère partie, t .II, 2, p. 581.

[67] Remember that under the abbatiate of Saint Hugues, it was in the great church of Cluny that all monks came to pronounce their vows. "Tout frère où qu’il soit ne relève [...] que de l’abbé" notes D. Iogna-Prat, "Hagiographie, théologie et théocratie dans le Cluny de l’an Mil", Actes du colloque de Rome, 1988, vol. 149-1, p. 243

[68] Apocalypse II, IV, 21, 5.

[69] "Quis autem dubitet magis esse octavae munus quae totum renovabit hominem?". Ambrose, Epist. Class. I, XLIV, PL 16, 1140, quoted by É. Mâle, L’Art relig. du XIIe siècle, op. cit. I, p. 68, note 46. Ambrose’s letters appeared in the catalog drawn up at the time of Saint Hugues, under number 93; V. von Büren, "Ambroise de Milan dans la bibliothèque de Cluny", Scriptorium, t. 47, 1993 / 2, p. 134 and 138.

[70] Ambrose, Traité sur l’Évangile de S. Luc, 1 V 49, G. Tissot, SC. 45 bis, I, p. 201. The library possessed two copies of this work, numbered 91 (Book X only) and 95. V. von Büren, "Ambroise de Milan dans la bibliothèque de Cluny", op. cit. p. 134.

[71] Ambrose, In Psalmum David 118 expositio; PL. 15; 1198, quoted by É. Mâle, L’Art relig. du XIIe siècle, I, p. 68, note 46; the library had two copies of the work: catalog no. 92 (Volumen in quo continetur tractatus in psalmum CXVIII) copied in Cluny around 978-994 (manuscript BN nal. 1437); the other copy was listed under number 99.

[72] "Et expecto resurrectionem mortuorum et vitam venturi saeculi"

[73] According to V. von Büren, the Ambrosian section contained sixteen volumes (catalog nos. 90 - 105) "almost exclusively devoted to his work ". Not only was it possible to find almost all of his works, but "most of the titles were [found] in several copies", "Le grand catalog de Cluny", Le Gouvernement d’Hugues de Semur, op. cit. D. Iogna-Prat notes that Ambrose was "a particularly meditated authority in the Cluny of the year 1000", Agni immaculati, Recherches sur les sources hagiographiques relatives à saint Maïeul de Cluny, Paris, 1988, p. 372

[74] V. von Büren, "Ambroise de Milan dans la bibliothèque de Cluny", Scriptorium, 1993/1, p. 127-165.

[75] V. von Büren, "Ambroise de Milan dans la bibliothèque de Cluny", op. cit. p. 133. She also notes that several of the manuscripts from which these sentences are taken, i.e. those "corresponding to numbers 91, 92, 93 and even 95, are [...] all of Cluniac origin. Two (91-92) date from the time of Mayeul, the third (93) from the time of Odilon, the fourth (95) from the abbatiate of Hugues 1er"

[76] That would go far beyond the scope of this study and corresponds to another work. See the article by Piotr Skubiszewski, "Ecclesia, Christianitas, Regnum et Sacerdotium dans l’art des Xe-XIe siècle", Cahiers de la civil. Méd, 1985, p. 27-28, n. 65-66-67-68-69

[77] Michel Foussard, " Aulae Siderae, Vers de Jean Scot au roi Charles ", Cahiers archéologiques 21, 1971, p. 79-88. É. Jeauneau and P. E. Dutton have noted the analogies between the Cluniac tituli and the poem dedicated to Charles the Bald

[78] Antependium from the church of Saint-Martin de Ix or from the Seu d’Urgel in the Barcelona museum, cover of the Codex aureus from Saint Emmeran de Ratisbonne, lintel from Saint-Genis-des-fontaines, cul de four from the apse of the Saint-Gilles chapel in Montoire-sur-Loir, from the apse of the Saint-Nicolas-lès-Marchaux church in Autun, relief from Saint-Guilhem-le-Désert, from the Musée Fenaille in Rodez, Vierge portière from Saint-Savin-sur-Gartempe, etc.

[79] Pph. I, 466 B, vol.1, p. 102. This is the very expression of Pythagorean thought, "Everything is number". É. Jeauneau, "Jean Scot et la métaphysique des nombres", Tendenda vela. Excursions littéraires et digressions philosophiques à travers le moyen âge, 2007.

[80] É. Jeauneau, "Le thème du retour", Études Érigéniennes. Paris, 1987, pp.365-394

[81] É. Jeauneau, Jean Scot Érigène, Commentaire sur l’Évangile de Jean, III, II, 317 AB, SC 180, p. 213; this text does not appear among the Erigenesque works listed in the Cluny catalog, but it expresses particularly concisely in this sentence, the thought that John Scotus develops throughout the Periphyseon

[82] J. Trouillard, "Rencontres du néoplatonisme", Revue de théologie et de philosophie, 1972, p. 9; for J. Scotus, the only true neoplatonist. Trouillard, the only true Neoplatonist in the Latin world, the only one to have been able "to go beyond Saint Augustine and find the authentic spirit of Neoplatonism"

[83] Pph. I, 447 AB, vol. 1, p. 73: "This future beatitude, promised to the blessed, which we consider to consist of nothing other than pure and direct contemplation of the divine Essence Itself"

[84] Pph. III, 623 B, vol. 2, p. 73.

[85] This text is a commentary on Dionysius the Areopagite’s Divine Names (XI 6). Maurice de Gandillac, Traité des Noms divins par saint Denis l’aréopagite, Paris, 1941.

[86] Pph. V, 1021 AB, vol. 4, p. 227

[87] Mt. 9, 28-36

[88] "Octonarius [numerus] designat resurrectionem", Petrus venerabilis cluniacensis abbas, Sermones, PL 189, Paris 1980, col. 954.

[89] Pph. V, 1021 B, vol. 4, p. 227-228

[90] Pph. V, 1015 D, vol. 4, p. 220.

[91] Subject to É. Jeauneau’s proposal to see in the conclusion of Honorius of Autun’s Clavis physicae, the conclusion of Book V and, by extension, of the entire Periphyseon, CCCM 165, introduction to Book V, p. XV-XXI.

[92] Pph. V, 1021 A, vol.4, p. 227. S. Biay’s recent thesis concludes that there is no general programme for the capitals, as does the work directed by Neil Stratford. S. Biay, Les Chapiteaux du rond-point de la troisième église abbatiale de Cluny (fin XIe-début XIIe) : étude iconographique, PhD thesis, University of Poitiers, CESCM, UMR 6223, Nov. 2011. N. Stratford, "La mythologie revisitée chez les sculpteurs romans en Bourgogne", Comptes rendus de la séance de l’Académie des Inscriptions et Belles Lettres, n°3, 2003, p.1243-1265. Corpus de la sculpture de Cluny. Les parties orientales de la Grande Église Cluny III, 2011

Keywords

Abbaye de Cluny Chapiteaux de Cluny Cluny, Musée Ochier

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