This tract is adapted out of Saint Bonaventure's 13th century "Retracing the Arts to Theology". The "theology of light" was popular at the time. If anyone has ever actually been into a cathedral, you will understand how light, space and scale create a holy imagery that is greatly at odds with the rest of the medieval world. This is also my first textual usage of what I hope will become useful philosophical and semantic alternatives to "Lord of the Springs", namely "The Wellspring" and "Father of Lights". In any case, I have also tailored this tract to bardic education, providing a foothold for us philosophically and some underpinnings for the Oath of Gweran.
It is impossible for a man or woman of letters to begin such a grand task of putting to paper the works and the words of history without acknowledging the fount of knowledge. “Every good gift that Man possesses or employs comes from the Father of Lights” writes an early priest, Petrus of Lundsend. A rarely used name for the Lord of the Springs, but one that fits well with the pervasive imagery of sacred light and perfect source. The source of all illumination flows from the Fount; “He is the Cause of being, the Principle of knowledge, and the Pattern of human life” continues Petrus. One only has to step with the vast cathedral of St. Aelwyn’s to understand the poetic combination of light, space and water that Man has constructed in order to embody the awe-inspiring complexity of the Lord of the Springs.
With reason, the scholar distinguishes the manifold rays that issue from the ancient Father of Lights into several components. There is external light, or the light of mechanical art; the lower light, o the light of sense perception; the inner light, or the light of philosophical knowledge; and finally, the higher light or the light of grace and of the Scripture of blessed men like St. Remiel. The first light illumines in regard to structure of artefacts; the second, in regard to natural forms; the third, in regard to intellectual truth; the fourth, in regard to saving truth.
Where amid these manifold rays does the bard’s work rest? The scholar declares that it lies within the realm of the first, external light. Artefacts are entities external to man, though there knowledge lies within them. As they are expressed into physical forms, be it speech or construction, they are considered lower in nature than pure philosophical knowledge. Just as the Lord, in His divine existence, is supreme over the imperfect flesh, so is philosophy – an art of the mind and soul – supreme to those things that the imperfect creates in homage to the perfect. “In the recitation of these words, by mortal lips, sprung from immortal thought,” wrote the sainted Remiel, “We gather and celebrate all that has been, all that is and all that shall ever be.”
With reason, the scholar may break up the mechanical arts born from the external light into its own divisions. Here we find weaving, the work of the smiths, agriculture, hunting, navigation, medicine and, last but not least, the dramatic arts. Every one of these mechanical arts is intended for Man’s comfort; its purpose, by this, is to banish either sorrow or want. In terms of the bard’s art, it must benefit or delight to be considered a facet of the plentiful Lordly Source. Though we will touch upon bardic duties in detail later, it is important to note this chain of reason and how it must underpin the work of all bards that take the oath, or through marking themselves with the title, take on the mantle of the troubadour.
If its aim is to console and amuse, inspire and entertain, it is the dramatic art or the art of exhibiting plays, song, music, poetry or pantomime. If instead of consolation, said art covers, then it falls into the realm of weaving (soft materials) or the work of the smith (hard materials). If it is to feed more than the intellect, it falls into the realm of food or drink; if it is vegetable, then it falls to the division of agriculture. If it is flesh meat, then it is within the realm of hunting. All manner of cookery, baking and preparation of foodstuffs fall within, though the philosopher maintains some certain excellence and courtliness by referring to it by the term ‘hunting’. If it supplies a want, then it falls to the division of navigation, which includes the commerce of all articles, be they food, covering or entertainment. If it exists to remove an impediment instead of supplying a want, most likely said art falls to the division of medicine, which is chiefly concerned with the preparation of drugs, potions or ointments, with the healing of wounds or the amputation of members which in the latter case is called surgery.
While all of these exist within the mechanical realm, it is the Dramatic Art that is the only one of its kind, uniquely traversing the barrier between spirit and flesh. Instead of composing a material to the whim of the mind, a bard translates his or her craft through the instrument of their body. Poetry, song and dance utilize the total person, both flesh and blessed soul. Though our work is within the realm of the mechanical arts, the unique employment and recognition of our craft compares well with the realm of the priest and their traversal of what the philosopher, doctor, weaver or farmer may not do so easily in terms of weaving the mechanical with Truth.
How does the bard, or indeed, any Man discern natural forms in order to see the Truth? Internal knowledge is a given, a sense that the philosopher calls Lord given understanding or faith. But as the world is built of material objects, to discern this we must employ the second division of light, known as lower light. Just as explained above, the difference between philosophy and mechanics, this division is named ‘lower’ because it begins with a material object and takes place by aid of corporeal light. It has five divisions of its own, one for each of the senses that the house of the soul possesses. The adequacy of these senses is judged by the nature of the light contained in their element. Fire, crudest of these, must exist in great quantity or purity to make the discernment of things possible, achieving more than heat but an enlightening brightness. Commingled with air, this purity is the essence of hearing; with vapor, this purity is the essence of smell; with fluid, it is the essence of taste; with the solidity of earth, the roots that support all material presence, it is touch.
There is some sense of this in the Scripture of Remiel, when the sainted man lists the names that distilled from the primordial Deep. (SR, stanza 6)
“Water, a mundane mirror of Tides long passed, settled down in the Deep Places;
Earth, heavy as sorrow and filled with promise, sank down to form the Foundation;
Fire, brother to moon and sun, reached up from the Urth to try and touch the Heavens;
Wind, buoyant as joy and cold as scorn, speeds upwards until it distills into the Night
Ether, or pure darkened Void, congeals in the Heavens to form Starlight and Sun.”
Here we have the four primary elements and a last essence that philosophers still argue over. While Remiel characterizes the ether as the essential darkness that is said to have existed before the light of the Wellspring emerged. Other philosophers postulate that the Ether, the Wellspring and the human Soul are all of the same material. Determining the nature of this last essence is often intrinsically linked to how theologians or philosophers view the construction of the universe. But one should not dwell on it too intently: “Their affinity for either absolute light or dark is relative only to human understanding,” argues Petrus, “To trap the grandeur of either within mere words, even those so primordial as light and dark, is to diminish them.” The scribe goes on to give example: “The common man understands the world as he is able to understand it. A man that is not blind knows that blindness is the absent of sight and may only catch glimpses of understanding when his eyes are shut or darkened by absence of light. And to man, what is the Lordly Source? Before that, all men are blind, catching only glimpses. We can no more describe in certainty the length or breadth of the Wellspring than a blind man may describe the color of the sky. The nature of this essence, for the sake of our didactic exposition, is that of an absolute Light that is thick as Water with possibility. In fair proportion with the others, they yield the function of our senses; what enables us to operate in the corporeal world.
The third light, which enlightens Man in the investigation of intelligible truths, is the light of philosophical knowledge. Though a bard’s lot is performing in the corporeal realm, our dedication to the Truth is paramount; we must understand how we discern the natural world, and through the division of the third light, grow to understand the within. The principles of learning and natural truth, which are inherent to man, are vital to our ability to both understand our audience, Man, and navigate through seas whose hazards may be hidden beneath. This inner light is split into three portions, the three aspects of truth. Truth of speech is the rational truth; truth of things is natural truth; moral philosophy is the truth of conduct. This is the pure realm of the philosopher; here we find the pursuit of the causes of being, known as physic; the principles of understanding, known as logic; the right way of living (thought of and unapplied) known as morals. Speech, also lies here, when it is yet unformed and given wings by the combination of essential brightness and the motivation of breath. Speech is one of the ways in which thought passes into form; with it a bard may manifest thought to induce someone to believe, or to arouse love, or even hatred. With this, we may express, teach and persuade.
Now the fourth light, which illumines the mind for the understanding of saving truth; the light found within the works of sainted Scripture. This is called higher for it avoids the physical manifestations of the world, leading to things above them. Some may say that this higher truth leads well beyond reason, and it is of my opinion that it certainly should. Reason, though gifted from the Father of Lights, is utilized and limited by the figure of Man. We can no more understand the scope of the Divine Truth than a worm may understand Man with all our complexity. The higher light is only accessible through inspiration from the Lord of Bright Waters. There are components here as well in a literal sense, though the ray of light from this source cannot and must not be subdivided in any but demonstrative display; there is the allegorical, where we are taught what to believe concerning the Divine and the Human; the moral, by which we are taught how to live; and the anagogical, by which we are taught how to be unified with the Father of Lights. Hence all writings by the saints, inspired by the Lordly Source, teach these truths - the endless outflow, personified by water and light, from the fount of knowledge and divinity of King Dav the Everlasting, from his suffering the pattern of human life, and through the Chalice the reunification of our soul with the eternal flow of the Lordly Source. The first regards faith, the second morals, the third regards the ultimate end of both. It is commonly suggested that doctors should study the first, preachers the second and contemplatives should dwell within the last.
All of these lights, it is said, though stemming from the Divine Wellspring, will have their twilight in the minds of men; all knowledge will be destroyed as it passes through the corporeal forms into the world of the material. Only the Wellspring renews eternally; Men are well acquainted with Death and will always come to know it as sure as winter follows fall. The role of Men, especially bards, is to pass the knowledge on from generation to generation to preserve what we have gained, all the while keeping our hearts and souls open for the divine inspiration that illumines the mind beyond Reason.
