In 1910, as an introduction to Codices Vulcaniani, P.C. Molhuysen could summarize in one and half page what was known about Vulcanius: birth and death dates (1538-1614), family (the son of the Bruges humanist Petrus Vulcanius), studies (in Leuven and Ghent, then with Cassander in Germany), employment held (secretary to Francisco da Mendoza and his brother in Spain, preceptor in the Sudermanns' house, editor and translator in Geneva, secretary to Marnix, professor in Leiden), and collections (manuscripts, essentially). From there, it is possible to gaze both at the plethora of information waiting to be studied; and, at the same time, at the insuperable lacunae, that seem to be inherent in the story of Bonaventura Vulcanius. By the humanist himself, much had been passed on to the library or to common store of knowledge: books written, editions provided, commentaries published or ready for publication, classes taught and remembered, manuscripts collected, papers, and even two portraits. Moreover, he had been given the opportunity to write not only a poetic epitaph for himself but also to compose, or at least supervise, his own first biography. Though he left behind a considerable number of documents and testimonies, Bonaventura Vulcanius also left a cloud of mystery around his name, his activities and his beliefs. In this case, too, much information, volunteered by various interested parties has maintained and even thickened the mysteries raised by his silences, his departures, or his allegiances. One explanation for this paradox-information muddling the outlines of portraits and biographies-may well reside in the part played by Bonaventura Vulcanius himself in the composition of his legend. Another explanation may be found in the very nature of his scholarship and writing: devoting most of his life to editions and translations, Vulcanius is always defining his writing as an epigone, an inferior imitation. The position of second seems to please him, for that is precisely the position of the mediator, who passes on, reconciles, and transmits the legacy of the Ancients. His own poetry, Alexandrian in its inspiration, in its forms, and even in its languages, plays with echoes and