The Name of the Rose

From the moment Adso and William enter the scriptorium, the issue of artistic representation becomes central in The Name of the Rose. Medieval scriptoria were seats of learning, and in this novel, the scriptorium is depicted both as “a joyous workshop of learning” as well as a locus of jealousy and hatred (79). When Malachi enters, his grim visage bespeaks repression, and his job is to repress the monks’ curiosity. He criticizes the deceased monk, Adelmo, for his fantastical drawings, even as everyone else gazes upon the dead monk’s artistry with “wonder” (85).

When Jorge of Burgos enters the scene, his first words are a recrimination of artistic representation. He condemns Adelmo outright, and even goes so far as to condemn the intricate carvings around the abbey. In particular, Jorge denounces any representation that induces “merriment,” for he believes that “Christ never laughed,” (88), and thus neither should anyone else. In particular, comedy of any kind, or anything that inspires laughter, is evil because it leads to sin. The precise mechanism, according to Jorge, is this: anything that is laughed at is somehow made more alluring; so, if we are laughing at bad behavior, then that work of art is teaching us to love sin.

At the center of the mystery in this novel is Aristotle’s second book of the Poetics, which has been lost to history. Jorge will kill to prevent this book from being found, and many people die of curiosity. Thus, the book itself becomes the symbol of forbidden representation, and of the dangers of desiring such knowledge.

Building on this thematic exploration of artistic representation, the novel engages in the larger semiotic enterprise of investigating meaning-making. This endeavor includes the study of signs and sign processes, such as indication, designation, likeness, analogy, allegory, metaphor, symbolism, and all types of human communication. Different from the field of linguistics, semiotics has a more anthropological dimension in that it considers non-linguistic sign systems such as music, for example. Umberto Eco was at the forefront of this field, and he believed that every cultural phenomenon could and should be studied as a kind of communication.

The Name of the Rose is a love letter of sorts to the field of semiotic studies. Starting with the “Prologue,” the text claims to be made up of “signs of signs” (4) that generations of readers will have to decipher. The sign system being submitted to us is Adso’s manuscript, which he has carried with him and consulted throughout his life, “like an oracle,” as he says at the end of the book (610). Having re-read the entire thing, he now consigns his writings to unknown readers in an unknown time. He calls it a “cento,” “an acrostic,” and a “figured hymn” (610), invoking a series of sign systems that all necessitate the extraction of meaning while calling into question that very enterprise.

Elsewhere, Adso and William discuss the nature of dreams, specifically Adso’s vivid dream of the Coena Cypriani, the anonymous prose work read by most if not all monks, despite the work being banned. Adso worries that his dream contained “diabolical ravings” (531), but William reassures him that dreams can convey meaning, because they can be read as “allegory” or “analogy” (532). The sign system in question—the dream—has its own method of communicating information to the mind of man.

Books too are sign systems, and often they convey not a literal truth but rather a larger meaning. As William tells Adso: “When we consider a book, we mustn’t ask ourselves what it says but what it means,” because it will contain signs (such as allegory) that embody moral truths, such as chastity, for example (380). Adso struggles with this idea, but William tries to reassure his protégé that this endeavor is sanctioned by God.

Through the character of Salvatore, in particular, and “the simple” as a subset of society, the novel investigates the dichotomy between the learned and unlearned, the humble and the great. The character of Salvatore is a complex one, for though he is a part of the “simple” world, he is not a fool. He is of humble origins: his parents were serfs. His language is a hodgepodge of dialects from all the places he has lived. Yet, despite the jumble, he speaks words that contain many truths for people at all levels of society, including the most powerful in the papal and imperial courts.

William, too, has much to say on wisdom of “the simple,” and asserts that the “simple folk,” are “bearers of a truth different from that of the wise” (241). Adso notes that “the simple” often have to pay for the sins of the “great,” when he laments the arrest of the peasant girl whom he loves (492). The simple folk appear in this novel to lead lives of great suffering, and yet their existence has a truth and a beauty all its own.

This topic is again paramount in the final confrontation between William and Jorge, in the finis Africae, the forbidden secret room of the library. William and Jorge engage in a verbal sparring match, and Jorge calls William “a clown” (581), which echoes what he believes to be the central mistake of the Franciscans: their embrace of the “simple” people, whom Jorge wishes would keep silent.Aristotle’s lost book on comedy book is evil, according to Jorge, because it accords the simple a space in which to talk about their lives and concerns.

The second part of this renowned work—in which the philosopher discusses laughter and the virtues of comedy—has been lost for centuries. This book is reputed to uphold laughter as a good thing. But Jorge believes it is evil because of its emphasis on the lives of ordinary folks, which “would have justified the tongue of the simple [as] the vehicle of wisdom” (582). And “the simple should not speak,” according to Jorge (582).

While Jorge wishes to silence the simple, the novel does not.Ultimately, the “wise fool” could be Salvatore, it could be Adso, or it could be William himself. The novel, in its consistent exploration of this theme, asks readers to consider what constitutes wisdom, what constitutes greatness, and what are the limits of man’s knowledge in accordance with the divine will.