In this erudite and engaging monograph, Brian FitzGerald examines the contested meanings of prophecy and inspiration from the twelfth through the early fourteenth century. Perhaps surprisingly, this book is not a study of means of predicting the future or of medieval prophetic texts. Rather, the author traces a history of ideas about intellectual, ethical and sacred authority. Drawing upon an impressive depth and breadth of sources, some familiar, and others little noticed, he traces an evolving definition of prophecy amongst scholastic writers, one that, as he argues, ultimately paved the way for humanist claims about the status of secular poetry. As FitzGerald stresses, ‘prophecy’ encompassed a wide range of meanings, ranging from the common modern understanding of predicting the future, to singing Psalms, to instructing others (an ambiguity already present in the classical term vates, which could denote a prophet, a priest or a poet). That multivalent character enabled scholastic theologians to expand the definition of prophecy in order to undercut apocalyptic visionaries (particularly those inspired by Joachim of Fiore) and to present their own day-to-day work as inspired; that broadened definition, however, later opened up the path for fourteenth-century humanists to celebrate their own secular poetry as prophecy and theology's equal.

FitzGerald begins with two chapters considering twelfth-century treatments of prophecy. Chapter i focuses upon Hugh of St Victor, for whom prophecy could be cultivated by the contemplation of history and nature, leading to the discovery of God's ratio at work in each. Prophecy, linked to the virtue of prudence, implied a mandate to share one's understanding with others, whether through scriptural exegesis or through the writing of history. In chapter ii FitzGerald looks to twelfth-century commentaries on the Psalms. For authors such as Gilbert of Poitiers and Peter Lombard, the Psalms represented prophecy par excellence, and yet they posed special problems for the exegete. Both theologians wrestled with the fact that the Book of Psalms’ ‘order [was] discordant with history’ (p. 59), a difficulty that they resolved by insisting that Ezra had been inspired by God to re-order the Psalms so as to present Christian theological truths. Dominican exegetes continued to emphasise this prophetic rearrangement from chronological order, drawing a connection between the Psalms and the artificial but harmonious beauty of music and poetry. Scholastic theologians thus widened the meaning of prophecy to include explaining hidden meanings in Scripture or singing Psalms in praise of God.

Chapters iii and iv explore the continued development of theologians’ approaches to prophecy and inspiration formed by confrontation with rival claims to inspiration. In chapter iii FitzGerald shows a number of early thirteenth-century thinkers wrestling with the topic without coming to a clear consensus, but united in an urgent effort clearly to define the limits of sacred authority. That pressure was felt particularly by the Dominican order, whose mission of preaching could be viewed as an inspired gift of the Holy Spirit (as by Humbert of Romans), but which was also framed in terms of learning, contemplation and virtue on the part of the preacher. In chapter iv FitzGerald examines two competing interpretations of prophecy from the second half of the thirteenth century. On the one hand, in response to Joachite ideas and the scandal of the Eternal Evangel in 1254, Thomas Aquinas minimised both the predictive aspect of prophecy and the importance of ecstatic visions, while promoting a definition that stressed knowledge (cognitio) and preaching as the most important components of prophecy. On the other hand, in the writings of Peter John Olivi, one can find a revival of Hugh of St Victor's sense of the prophet as an inspired interpreter of history, as well as an insistence that the experience of prophetic revelation was still very much at work in this world.

FitzGerald's final two chapters discuss early fourteenth-century definitions of prophecy. (The figure of Dante hovers at the edges of these chapters, but is not an object of the author's analysis.) Chapter v addresses the writings of the Dominican Nicholas Trevet, who strove ‘to tame the idea of prophecy’ (p. 191) in response to a disturbing increase in claims to mystical inspiration in the early decades of the 1300s. Trevet, like Aquinas, stressed prophecy's intellectual and ethical components over its origins in mystical visions, heralding the fabulae of the tragic poet as a form of prophecy that taught theological remedies to those buffeted by fate. Chapter vi examines the emergence of humanist prophecy through the writings of the Paduan poet laureate Albertino Mussato. Mussato defended poetry as a form of prophecy that presented Christian truths under the guise of figurae designed to delight the reader. As with Aquinas, neither divine frenzy nor predicting the future was crucial to prophecy; rather, prophecy was the unveiling of divine providence, the work of contemporary poets as well as of priests.

In such a short space, it is difficult to do full justice to the nuances and sophistication of FitzGerald's argument. Deeply immersed in scholastic traditions, he is particularly attuned to important silences and omissions, as for example in his perceptive analysis of Trevet's Boethius commentary (especially at pp. 168–78). His clear, jargon-free prose conveys complex ideas with clarity and precision. His insights offer a valuable foundation for later concerns about the discernment of spirits and demonstrate ways in which new humanist understandings relied upon, rather than overturned, traditional scholasticism. Still, the reader has the sense that there remain aspects of prophecy that have not been explored. Astrology and divination are scarcely mentioned, although during these same centuries translations from the Arabic enhanced Europeans’ techniques for obtaining knowledge of the future, such as through astrology and geomancy, as well as accessing higher powers to obtain special insights or even divine visions, as through the ars notoria and some of its adaptations. It is perhaps a testament to FitzGerald's achievement that in addressing a seemingly simple question (‘What was prophecy?’), he paints a picture of such nuance and depth that it generates as many new questions as it answers.