Women Writing Latin: From Roman Antiquity to Early Modern Europe (Women Writers of the World) [1 ed.] 0415942470, 0415941830, 0415941849, 0415941857, 9780415942478

Table of contents :
Cover
Women writing Latin
Title Page
Copyright Page
Table of Contents
Acknowledgments
Women Writing Latin: An Introduction
Radegund and the Letter of Foundation
A Schoolgirl and Mistress Felhin: A Devout Petition from Ninth-Century Saxony
Hrotsvit’s Callimachus and the Art of Comedy
Sisters in the Literary Agon: Texts from Communities of Women on the Mortuary Roll of the Abbess Matilda of La Trinité, Caen
Hildegard of Bingen: The Teutonic Prophetess
The Problemata of Heloise
Autobiography or Autohagiography? Decoding the Subtext in the Visions of Elisabeth of Schönau
Herrad of Hohenbourg and the Poetry of the Hortus deliciarum: Cantat tibi cantica
Anonymous Lives: Documents from the Benedictine Convent of Sant Pere de les Puelles
Street Mysticism: An Introduction to The Life and Revelations of Agnes Blannbekin
Birgitta Birgersdotter, Saint Bride of Sweden (1303?–1373)
Appendix
Contributors

Citation preview

WOMEN WRITING LATIN Volume 2

WOMEN WRITERS OF THE WORLD Katharina M. Wilson, Series Editor WOMEN WRITERS IN PRE-REVOLUTIONARY FRANCE Strategies of Emancipation edited by Collette H. Winn RUSSIAN WOMEN WRITERS edited by Christine D. Tomei WRITINGS BY PRE-REVOLUTIONARY FRENCH WOMEN From Marie de France to Elizabeth Vige-Le Brun edited by Collette H. Winn and Anne R. Larsen WOMEN WRITING LATIN From Roman Antiquity to Early Modern Europe edited by Laurie J. Churchill, Phyllis R. Brown, and Jane E. Jeffrey

WOMEN WRITING LATIN FROM ROMAN ANTIQUITY TO EARLY MODERN EUROPE VOLUME 2 Medieval Women Writing Latin

Edited by LAURIE J. CHURCHILL PHYLLIS R. BROWN AND

JANE E. JEFFREY

In Three Volumes Volume 2

Published in 2002 by Routledge 270 Madison Avenue New York, NY 10016 www.routledge-ny.com Published in Great Britain by Routledge 2 Park Square, Milton Park Abingdon, Oxon OX14 4RN www.routledge.co.uk Copyright © 2002 by Taylor & Francis Books, Inc. Routledge is an imprint of the Taylor & Francis Group.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reprinted or reproduced or utilized in any form or by any electronic, mechanical, or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publishers. Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data Women writing Latin : from Roman antiquity to early modern Europe / edited by Laurie J. Churchill, Phyllis R. Brown, and Jane E. Jeffrey. p. cm.—(Women writers of the world ; 6) Includes bibliographical references. Contents: v. 1. Women writing in Latin in Roman antiquity, late antiquity, and the early Christian era—v. 2. Medieval women writing Latin—v. 3. Early modern women writing Latin. ISBN 0-415-94247-0 (set)—ISBN 0-415-94183-0 (v. 1)—ISBN 0-415-94184-9 (v. 2)—ISBN 0-415-94185-7 (v. 3) 1. Latin literature, Medieval and modern—Women authors—History and criticism. 2. Latin literature—Women authors—History and criticism. 3. Women and literature— Rome—History. 4. Women and literature—History. I. Churchill, Laurie J., 1948- II. Brown, Phyllis Rugg, 1949- III. Jeffrey, Jane E., 1954- IV. Series. PA8030.W65 W66 2002 870.9'9287—dc21 2002024703

Women Writing Latin: From Roman Antiquity to Early Modern Europe is dedicated to the women who taught us Latin when we were girls, those who first gave us the words that made this book possible. They include Frances Abramowitz, St. Margaret’s School, Waterbury, Connecticut; Eleanor C. Bailey, St. Margaret’s School, Waterbury, Connecticut; Virginia Brunson, Whitehaven High School, Memphis, Tennessee; Elizabeth Schleyer, Monroe High School, Rochester, New York; and Mary Shults, Monroe High School, Rochester, New York. To all young women currently studying Latin: may this book enable you to know more fully the traditions of which you are a part.

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Contents

Acknowledgments

ix

Women Writing Latin: An Introduction

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Volume 2. Medieval Women Writing Latin Radegund and the Letter of Foundation Jane E. Jeffrey A Schoolgirl and Mistress Felhin: A Devout Petition from Ninth-Century Saxony Steven A. Stofferahn Hrotsvit’s Callimachus and the Art of Comedy Mark Damen Sisters in the Literary Agon: Texts from Communities of Women on the Mortuary Roll of the Abbess Matilda of La Trinité, Caen Daniel Sheerin Hildegard of Bingen: The Teutonic Prophetess Tatiana Tsakiropoulou-Summers The Problemata of Heloise Anne Collins Smith Autobiography or Autohagiography? Decoding the Subtext in the Visions of Elisabeth of Schönau Thalia A. Pandiri Herrad of Hohenbourg and the Poetry of the Hortus deliciarum: Cantat tibi cantica Fiona Griffiths Anonymous Lives: Documents from the Benedictine Convent of Sant Pere de les Puelles Linda McMillin vii

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25 37

93 133 173

197

231

265

viii

Street Mysticism: An Introduction to The Life and Revelations of Agnes Blannbekin Ulrike Wiethaus Birgitta Birgersdotter, Saint Bride of Sweden (1303?–1373) Sandra Straubhaar

Contents

281 309

Appendix

319

Contributors

321

Acknowledgments

Thanks to the National Endowment for the Humanities for funding two summer institutes that catalyzed this project. “New Perspectives on Classical Antiquity: Teaching Classics in the Twenty-first Century,” directed by Bella (Zweig) Vivante at the University of Arizona, provided the context for exploring more fully ideas long brewing on the gendered dimensions of Latin pedagogy, on women’s relation to and their uses of Latin in social-historical perspective, and on the possibilities of revisioning the Latin curriculum from new perspectives. The three editors of Women Writing Latin met at an NEH summer institute in 1997, this time on “The Literary Traditions of Medieval Women,” directed by Jane Chance at Rice University. Here we worked (and played) with a group of incredibly spunky, imaginative, and intelligent peers on whose collective energy this book is founded. Several of these colleagues also contributed their work to Women Writing Latin. We had the pleasure of working with Katharina Wilson at the Rice NEH. Her kind encouragement inspired us to move forward with Women Writing Latin for the series Women Writers of the World. Thanks are due to all the participants in “The Literary Traditions of Medieval Women” for stimulation, collegiality, new directions, and good times. We also thank the friends, family members, colleagues, libraries, and universities that supported us in various ways. Ohio Wesleyan University provided funding for a research leave and West Chester University for release time, without which Women Writing Latin simply would not have been written. The Canterbury Program in the English Department at Santa Clara University funded an internship that provided invaluable assistance of many kinds; Santa Clara University sophomore Thomas Garvey, the Canterbury Intern, repeatedly demonstrated his intelligence, excellent language skills (including knowledge of Greek and Latin), ix

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Acknowledgments

proofreading skills, and meticulousness, as well as his ability to outsmart Microsoft Word, especially during the final process of printing the copy to submit to the press. George Hardin Brown (Professor of English and Classics at Stanford University) generously assisted us with some of the thorniest challenges of postclassical Latin and guidance on some medieval theological issues. The public library in Truth or Consequences, New Mexico, afforded a quiet space and Internet access in times of need.

Women Writing Latin: An Introduction

Latin literacy, the ability to write as well as to read Latin, has usually been understood to be fundamental to institutions of male power and authority in the period extending from Roman antiquity to early modern Europe. As such, Latin has been understood as the language of empire, scholarship, and the church—the language of patriarchal power—for two thousand years. Recently, however, scholars have begun to recognize ways women have participated in the institutions associated with power and authority. With this recognition comes a growing awareness of women’s roles in Latin literacy and the roles Latin literacy have played in women’s lives. The writers represented in the three volumes of Women Writing Latin are bound not by geography or time or vernacular language but by their connection to Latinate cultural literacy, which has influenced Western culture from the classical era through the European Christian Middle Ages and beyond. Divided into three volumes—Women Writing Latin in Roman Antiquity, Late Antiquity, and the Early Christian Era; Medieval Women Writing Latin; and Early Modern Women Writing Latin—Women Writing Latin brings together nearly thirty named and several anonymous women whose writings give witness to the historical reality that Latin was a language of women as well as of men: a language of homes, nurseries, and brothels as well as of communities of religious women. The writings of the women relate in complex ways to the development of Latin in the ancient, classical, and early Christian worlds as a spoken, literary, and imperial language; its role as the foundational language of the Christian Church in the West and in various European social and political systems; and its role as the language of early modern humanists. Scholarship has been slow to recognize women’s uses of Latin as viable areas of inquiry. One purpose of Women Writing Latin is to provide an overview 1

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Women Writing Latin: An Introduction

of Latin texts and their contexts and thereby contribute to an increasingly perceptible dimension of Latin literacy—namely, that surprisingly large numbers of classical, medieval, and early modern women were literate and that a significant number of them read and wrote Latin. Although Women Writing Latin does not include all the Latin writings of women or even all the most important women (note, for instance, the absence of Dhuoda, Gertrude of Helfta, and Maddalena Scrovegni, to name some of the better known), the work nevertheless grew to require three volumes. During the Middle Ages, while European vernacular languages and literatures rapidly developed, Latin stabilized and standardized the written tradition. It has been usual to associate women with the development of the vernaculars and men with the uses of Latin that survived well into modernity. The etymology of the word vernacular, deriving from vernaculus, “of or belonging to homeborn slaves,” suggests an opposition to rather than a shared participation in literacy, a term itself derived from litteratus, meaning “learned, accessible only to the lettered.” Litterator, a masculine noun meaning “philologist or grammarian,” comes closest to its English derivative, literacy, while the adjective litteratus, “understanding Latin morphology and syntax,” emphasizes the exclusivity of Latin literacy.1 The women and texts represented in Women Writing Latin contribute to a more complicated understanding of the relationship between Latin literacy and the development of the European vernaculars, partly because they illustrate a wide variety of uses of Latin literacy but also because they demonstrate that Latin literacy was less exclusive than has generally been believed. Even if Latin literacy actually includes far more women than have been recognized, however, the cultural values associated with literacy in general and Latin literacy in particular nevertheless derive from beliefs about literacy as a male enclave. Therefore, the three volumes of Women Writing Latin contribute to a larger endeavor of rethinking assumptions about literacy based on conventional gender ideologies. In The Implications of Literacy: Written Language and Models of Interpretation in the Eleventh and Twelfth Centuries, Brian Stock defines the literate as those who could read and write a language for which in theory at least there was a set of articulated rules, applicable to a written, and, by implication, to a spoken language. Even today, such terms as preliterate and illiterate, which are commonly used to describe earlier phases of culture, imply a semantic norm linked to the use of texts.2

Work such as Stock’s invites scholars to rethink the relationships between Latin and vernacular literacy. Some of the women represented in these volumes, who wrote in Latin as well as in Greek, Hebrew, and often in more than one vernacular, illustrate a complex form of literacy modern linguists call code switching; they also remind us how difficult it can be to reconstruct the rules and values of

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earlier cultures without distortion by our own beliefs, values, and especially assumptions about what constitutes literacy. The slowness of scholarship to recognize women’s roles in the Latin tradition results not only from outmoded gender ideologies but also, in part, from a narrow understanding of the meanings of author, culture, and literature. Theoretical awareness cultivated by feminism, cultural studies, and new historicism has revealed the extent to which our understanding of Western culture has been shaped by the exclusion of texts considered nonliterary, often at least partly because they were written by women.3 Moreover, literary historians and critics are increasingly aware that the idea of authorship has changed significantly over time in response to various cultural pressures.4 Some of the texts in Women Writing Latin in Roman Antiquity, Late Antiquity, and the Early Christian Era and Medieval Women Writing Latin extend our understanding of authorship to include writing by women cited in male-authored texts; anonymous voices in graffiti, epigraphy, marginalia, and mortuary rolls; and, perhaps most complex of all, women who collaborated with scribes. The writing in these volumes also contributes to broader understanding of the cultures that allowed these works of literature to be written and preserved. What is important, therefore, is that the barriers that restricted women’s full participation in Latin culture—prohibitions against receiving a formal education, teaching outside the home or convent, and speaking or preaching in public—were, while not overcome, dealt with in various ways by the women represented in the three volumes of Women Writing Latin. Paradoxically, however, these textual examples also contribute to a realization that a dependence on a surviving written record for information about literacy may, in fact, distort our understanding. Stock writes, “One can be literate without the overt use of texts, and one can use texts extensively without evidencing genuine literacy. In fact, the assumptions shared by those who can read and write often render the actual presence of a text superfluous.”5 At the same time, since surviving texts provide most of the evidence available to shape our knowledge of the interrelationships of literacy and culture in the past, the breadth of authorship and subject matter exemplified in this collection simultaneously confirms and qualifies our understanding of the power of Latin to conserve and sustain Roman social, moral, and ethical values. In his study of medieval language and culture, Michael Richter argues that medieval Latin, though primarily a written language, a Schriftsprache, controlled by an elite group, and mainly used for administrative purposes, nevertheless transmitted to post-Roman societies values implicit in the Latin language.6 Increasingly it is possible to recognize the tension between Richter’s observations and evidence that Latin was used more widely and by a more varied group of authors than has previously been believed. Attitudes toward medieval Latin itself have probably also restricted our understanding of women’s contributions to Latin literacy. Earlier scholars have faulted postclassical authors for simplifying inflectional and phrasal structures,

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but Harrington writes that it is “a mistake to assume that Medieval Latin is always easier . . . ; in fact much that was written in Medieval Latin was linguistically and stylistically very complex. But the language remained very definitely Latin, and Cicero, Caesar and Virgil would readily have understood most Medieval Latin, even though the vocabulary in specialist fields would have puzzled them.”7 New studies of medieval European vernacular literacy and literature have opened up vast areas for scholarship and criticism on women; these three volumes join a few others in exploring women’s contributions to Latin literacy, what came to be called, in the sixteenth century, Res Publica Litteraria, or the Republic of Letters.8 Thus, the extant Latin texts, some of which are included in this volume, provide us with more information about women’s lives and their linguistic presence and in doing so replenish contemporary consciousness with the manifest reality that women not only wrote, but wrote in Latin on virtually every topic men addressed in the same periods. Women Writing Latin in Roman Antiquity, Late Antiquity, and the Early Christian Era opens with fragments of a letter from the noblewoman Cornelia, wife of Tiberius Sempronius Gracchus, consul in 177 B.C.E., to her son Gaius Sempronius Gracchus. Although the only extant manuscripts of these fragments date to a full century after Cornelia died, references in Cicero’s essays and Quintilian’s Institutes confirm the circulation of letters like the one included here during the years immediately after Cornelia’s death. Furthermore, as Judith Hallett demonstrates, evidence from both Cicero and Quintillian confirms the testimony of the letter included here that Cornelia had taken an active part in shaping her sons’ education and political careers. Judith Hallett’s, Jane Stevenson’s, and Elizabeth Woeckner’s contributions demonstrate that fuller information about women’s uses of Latin, even when fragmentary, can enrich our understanding of Roman antiquity. In addition, a good deal of women’s writing in Latin dates from the late Roman–early Christian period, 300 C.E.–800 C.E. Early Christianity seems both to have afforded opportunities for women to write in Latin and for those writings to have been valued enough for them to survive. New work (including Hallett’s and Erhart’s contributions to this volume on Claudia Severa and Fabia Aconia Paulina) qualifies Patricia Wilson-Kastner’s statement that Sulpicia’s poetry is the only non-Christian writing to survive after the Augustan Age.9 At the same time, works such as Perpetua’s diary of martyrdom, Proba’s adaptation of Virgil’s Latin to Christian themes, and Egeria’s epistolary account of her pilgrimage to the Holy Land attest to the importance of women’s voices as the early church began to transform what had been the Roman Empire into early European Christian culture. The chronological range of volume 2, Medieval Women Writing Latin, extends from the sixth-century queen, nun, abbess, and saint Radegund to the fourteenth-century mother of eight, widow, nun, founder of a religious order, prophetess, and reformer Birgitta Birgersdotter, also known as Saint Bride of

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Sweden. Although volumes 1 and 2 of Women Writing Latin demonstrate that the tradition of female literacy did not begin in religious communities of women, as Margaret L. King has asserted, nevertheless, “the root of the modern female intellectual experience”10 probably is to be found in those communities. During the early Middle Ages, in addition to the better-known Irish and Northumbrian monastic centers were the Merovingian, Carolingian, and Ottonian convent cultures, where girls and women heard Latin read, sung, prayed, and taught not only every day, but conceivably every hour. Hearing words, phrases, and sentences over time amounted to training in the Latin language. Even so, when these women would engage in the composing process, they would encounter problems similar to those M. T. Clanchy describes in his biography of Abelard: For a medieval writer the difficulties of getting the text on to parchment were relatively simple compared with the initial problem of converting one’s thoughts into Latin. This required years of training. Because it was nobody’s mother tongue and its rules of style and construction had been established more than a thousand years earlier, Latin tended to take over anyone who began to write it. To the rhetoric of the classical authors (Virgil, Cicero, Ovid, and so on) had been added the even more powerful models of the Latin Bible and the Latin liturgy, with which every monk and nun was in daily contact through chanting and hearing readings.11

Women writers such as Hrotsvit, Hildegard, and Heloise offer relatively familiar examples of women’s success in meeting the challenges Clanchy describes. Authors such as the ninth-century schoolgirl discussed by Steven Stofferahn in Medieval Women Writing Latin provide new glimpses of the various ways women expressed themselves in Latin. Also represented in volumes 2 and 3 are writings from a highly literate Spanish culture, which, according to Harvey J. Graff, had preserved much of Roman culture: In contrast to Gaul, there seem to be no regions in Spain in which writing was totally absent. Clerical and monastic schools contributed to the preservation of lay education; some monks and clerics placed themselves in private homes to tutor children who were not preparing for a religious career. A rich cultural life surrounded the Spanish Visigothic court, as kings and princes adhered more closely to classical traditions than did the Merovingians. Grammar and rhetoric instruction continued, although both kings and laymen were actively involved in religious culture, too.12

Linda McMillin’s contribution of documents from the Benedictine convent of Sant Pere de les Puelles provides the earliest example included in this collection of literate Iberian culture; Edward George’s essay on Luisa Sigea evinces

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women’s participation in the highly literate culture of Spain well into the early modern period. Although Italian women dominate Early Modern Women Writing Latin, as seems appropriate given Italy’s role in fostering humanist scholarship and writing, the northern European women’s somewhat later writings perhaps speak even more eloquently of women’s active participation in the humanistic community Erasmus named Res Publica Litteraria. These Renaissance women were not only important contributors to the neo-Latin revival that characterizes the sixteenth century, but also many of them were extraordinary polyglots who wrote letters to one another in Greek and Hebrew as well as in Latin and a variety of vernacular languages. For example, the Dutch woman Anna Maria van Schurman, whose writings conclude volume 3, had learned fourteen languages by the middle of her adult life, and she even wrote a grammar of Ethiopian. In her essay on van Schurman, Pieta van Beek points out that learned Renaissance women had a significant network of their own to complement the male-dominated Res Publica Litteraria. For example, van Schurman exchanged letters with the Irish-British Dorothea Moore (in Latin and Hebrew), the British Bathsua Makin (in Greek), the French Marie Jars du Gournay and Marie du Moulin (in French, Latin, and Hebrew), the German Elizabeth of Bohemia (in Latin and French), and the Swedish queen Christina and Danish Birgitte Thott (in Latin). These letters testify to the intellectual exchange, support, and encouragement these women offered one another. In an essay about linguistic and literary influences on medieval women writers, Katharina Wilson and Glenda McLeod discuss the difficulty of ascribing “traditions” to the variety of languages and literary models that women used. What cannot be underestimated, argue Wilson and McLeod, is that some women chose to write and chose Latin when any number of vernaculars were available: Scanning women’s writing by what one might think the simplest principle possible—the languages used—unveils the level of complexity facing any surveyor of medieval literature. Like men, women wrote in a wide assortment of languages; to understand the importance of this variety, however, one must recognize that linguistic choice for medieval writers, as for some modern writers in multilingual areas, carried philosophical and political implications.13

Indeed, studies of the effects of colonial and postcolonial politics and policies on patterns of literacy and literature have led to an awareness that cultural minorities respond to political and social hegemonies in a variety of ways, including assimilation through mimicry, creative transcendence that simultaneously affirms the mainstream culture and the minority culture, and writings that are subversive in some way. However, now as in the past, the hegemonic policies generally exclude and silence nonconformists.14 Presumably, women writing in the ancient, medieval, and early modern periods, though privileged in many ways that make

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their lives fundamentally different from those of racial minorities and the poor in the United States, faced situations something like those that students of color encounter in composition and rhetoric classrooms in the United States, where, Victor Villanueva suggests, “traditional ways of teaching literacy have not only forced particular languages and dialects upon America’s people of color, but have forced particular ways with language—rhetorical patterns—patterns that help to maintain American racial, ethnic, and cultural stratification, as well as gender and class.”15 Modern studies of early Europe tend to fall into two broad approaches: those that concentrate on philological study of sources and textual transmission and those that explore the historical, social, and cultural dimensions of history and literary production, though increasingly critics recognize that close study of texts is fundamental to cultural critique. A common point of contact between the two is the subtextual status of the writing studied here, for its language falls into a category of textual history that Gilles Deleuze and Felix Guattari define as a literature written by a minority group in a major language.16 What Deleuze and Guattari admire most about a minor literature is its political concerns, not the politics of government, religion, or, even, language, but, as in the Greek polis, communities of people. It is the communal that ultimately marks a literature as minor: “its cramped space forces each individual intrigue to connect immediately to politics. The individual concern thus becomes all the more necessary, indispensable, magnified, because a whole other story is vibrating with it.”17 Women who learned to write in Latin engaged a language established through history and by convention as a canonical language. In part because of their status as a writing minority, women writing in Latin question, sometimes consciously, sometimes not, the self-perpetuating structures and themes of major texts, such as long-held beliefs about the very physical and hardly intellectual nature of women. Furthermore, many of the barriers that excluded women from positions of power in the Roman and Christian empires nevertheless provided a way for them to influence the development of literary language and patronage, especially an elaborate network of women educating other women at home, in the convent, and through letters. While most of the women in these three volumes clearly honored the classical and patristic texts through which they achieved Latin literacy, nevertheless some of the writers represented here clearly helped undermine the exclusiveness and authority of Latinity through their work in translation and through their education of other women who did not have access to Latin literacy. Scholarly study of women’s writing, like the production of women’s writing itself, has been a disparate, halting activity. Even among classicists, women writing Latin are usually considered accidental and anomalous. These volumes do not attempt to be exhaustive but to demonstrate the value in more sustained study. Some of the writers who first occurred to the editors, such as Dhuoda, the Helfta nuns, St. Clare, Maddalena Scrovegni, Queen Elizabeth, and Sor Juana Inéz de la

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Cruz, are not included, nor are some of the most familiar works of well-known authors, such as Heloise’s so-called personal letters to Abelard or Hildegard’s lyric poetry. A goal of Women Writing Latin is to contribute to our knowledge of women writers, thereby complementing Peter Dronke’s Women Writers of the Middle Ages, Marcelle Thiébaux’s Writings of Medieval Women, and Katharina Wilson’s Medieval Women Writers.18 The approach Women Writing Latin takes, while chronological, is bilingual and contextual; each chapter includes a Latin text, an English translation, a brief introductory essay sketching the author’s life and describing important cultural influences, especially familial, religious, and political, to the extent that they are known, together with a select bibliography. Women Writing Latin presents the Latin texts with English translations in order not to perpetuate the exclusivity of Latin literacy. The contributors represent numerous disciplines: classics, history, literature, religion, and women’s studies. Likewise, the texts representing women’s writing in Latin are rich and varied: graffiti; petitions; wills; letters to children, friends, and patrons; saints’ lives; poetry; plays; visions; encyclopedia; scriptural commentary; scientific treatises; and philosophical dialogues. Because Women Writing Latin exemplifies the range and variety of ways in which women engaged Latin, it opens the door to further inquiry and study not only of the texts themselves but also of the social-historical contexts that allowed them to be written and preserved. Perhaps even more important, through its engagement with undervalued texts from the history of Western culture, Women Writing Latin can contribute to the changing dimensions and goals of Latin studies, women’s studies, cultural studies, literary studies, historical studies, rhetorical studies, and composition studies, adding to our understanding of the interplay of literacy and education in the shaping of cultures. NOTES 1. Herbert Grundmann, “Litteratus-illitteratus: Der Wandel einer Bildungsnorm vom Altertum zum Mittelalter,” Archiv für Kulturgeschichte 40 (1958): 1–15. 2. Brian Stock, The Implications of Literacy: Written Language and Models of Interpretation in the Eleventh and Twelfth Centuries (Princeton, N.J.: Princeton University Press, 1983), p. 6. 3. Stephen Greenblatt has pointed out that “Western literature over a very long period of time has been one of the great institutions for the enforcement of cultural boundaries through praise and blame.” “Culture,” in Critical Terms for Literary Study, 2d ed., ed. Frank Lentricchia and Thomas McLaughlin (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1995), p. 226. 4. In an overview of the meaning of the word author, Donald E. Pease notes the word’s original associations with founding rules and conservative principles (relevant especially to the medieval disciplines and moral authorities) and the tension between these associations and the word’s later use to denote “writers whose

Women Writing Latin: An Introduction

5. 6. 7. 8.

9. 10. 11. 12. 13.

14.

9

claim to cultural authority did not depend on their adherence to cultural precedents but on a faculty of verbal inventiveness.” “Author,” in Critical Terms for Literary Study, ed. Lentricchia and McLaughlin, pp. 106–7. Stock, p. 7. Michael Richter, “The Reality of Latin Civilization in Medieval Europe,” in Studies in Medieval Language and Culture (Dublin: Four Courts Press, 1995), p. 155. K. P. Harrington, Medieval Latin, rev. ed. (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1997), p. 11. Two recently published studies add significantly to our understanding of women’s roles in the Res Publica Litteraria. In her “Women Latin Poets in Britain in the Seventeenth and Eighteenth Centuries,” The Seventeenth Century 16 (2001): 1–36, Jane Stevenson writes: “There is a substantial amount of evidence that seventeenth- and eighteenth-century England was well stocked with educated, more or less Latinate gentlewomen, familiar with the contents and diction of Classical texts. Besides the daughters of gentlemen, it also contained a number of schoolmasters’ daughters and women of the middling sort who had been taught Latin” (p. 7). Stevenson continues, “The unusually high level of Latin literacy among women poets may indeed suggest that there is a relationship between Latin and the confidence to write, but it also shows that a number of women possessed both” (p. 8). Before exploring this more positive picture of “more or less Latinate gentlewomen” in the neoclassical period, Stevenson points out, “The impression which Kempe, Bercher and others give of an Elizabethan England replete with women classicists actually comes down rather rapidly to a small number of highly visible women, almost all at the court” (p. 2). In Latin; or, The Empire of the Sign: From the Sixteenth to the Twentieth Century, trans. John Howe (London: Verso, 2001), Françoise Waquet cites many sixteenth-century authors who argued that Latin was “a path to perdition for women” (p. 250) because Latin literacy would give women access both to dangerous subject matter (notably biology and sex) and, on account of its usual means of instruction, to male tutors. Patricia Wilson-Kastner, “Introduction,” in A Lost Tradition: Women Writers of the Early Church (Washington, D.C.: University Press of America, 1981), p. viii. Margaret L. King, Women of the Renaissance (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1991), p. 175. M. T. Clanchy, Abelard: A Medieval Life (Oxford: Blackwell, 1998), p. 14. Harvey J. Graff, The Legacies of Literacy: Continuities and Contradictions in Western Culture and Society (Bloomington: Indiana University Press, 1987), p. 41. Katharina M. Wilson and Glenda McLeod, “Wounding Trumpets, Chords of Light, and Little Knives: Medieval Women Writers,” in Women in Medieval Western European Culture, ed. Linda E. Mitchell (New York: Garland, 1999), pp. 331–32. In “Maybe a Colony: And Still Another Critique of the Comp Community,” Victor Villanueva writes about the ways “internal colonization,” a term Latin American sociologists use to describe Amerindian regions, can result in a “cultural mimicry that the other [America’s people of color] is forced to undergo before creative transcendence is allowed expression.” JAC: A Journal of Composition Theory 17.2 (1997): 186–87.

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Women Writing Latin: An Introduction 15. Villanueva, p. 184. 16. Gilles Deleuze and Felix Guattari, Kafka: Toward a Minor Literature, trans. Dana Polan (Minneapolis: University of Minnesota Press, 1986), p. 16. 17. Deleuze and Guattari, p. 17. 18. Peter Dronke, Women Writers of the Middle Ages: A Critical Study of Texts from Perpetua (†203) to Marguerite Porete (†1310) (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1984); Marcelle Thiébaux, The Writings of Medieval Women: An Anthology, 2d ed. (New York: Garland Publishing, 1994); Medieval Women Writers, ed. Katharina M. Wilson (Athens: University of Georgia Press, 1984); Women Writers of the Renaissance and Reformation, ed. Katharina M. Wilson (Athens: University of Georgia Press, 1987).

Radegund and the Letter of Foundation Jane E. Jeffrey

In The Medieval Experience, Francis Oakley writes that sixth-century Frankish kingdoms combined Germanic culture, Roman Christianity, and the Latin language “to create a new cultural unity that may without qualification be called European.”1 One of the earliest Europeans, therefore, would be Radegund, born between 518 and 520 C.E. to the Thuringian King Berthar, married to the son of Clovis, the first Christian Germanic king, abbess of the Convent of the Holy Cross, and writer of numerous Latin epistles and sponsor of Latin poets and chroniclers. While she was still a child, her uncle murdered her father and then raised Radegund as his daughter until 531, when the Franks, under the leadership of King Clothar, invaded and conquered Thuringia. Claiming the eleven-year-old Radegund as a portion of the victory spoils, Clothar brought Radegund to his royal villa in Athies, where she lived with other royal women and children, learned Latin, and began following the practices of Christian asceticism. Radegund remained at Athies for five years, at which time Clothar returned to claim her as his wife. Two contemporary vitae relate that Radegund’s betrothal to Clothar made her marriage to Christ all the more urgent:2 While she was still in that villa, a rumor arose that the king wanted her back again, that he was grieving over the grave loss he had suffered in letting so great and good a queen leave his side and that within himself he had no wish to live unless he could get her back again. Hearing this, the blessed Radegund shook with terror and surrendered herself to the harsher torment of the roughest of hair shirts which she fitted to her tender body. In addition, she imposed torments of fasting upon herself, and spent her nights in vigils pouring out prayers.3 11

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Radegund’s ascetic practices so annoyed Clothar that the king often complained that “he had married a nun (monacham) rather than a queen.”4 Despite the marital hardships, Radegund remained married to Clothar for fifteen years, until 550 C.E., when she received news that Clothar had murdered her brother, the last surviving member of her family. Radegund fled to the shrine of St. Martin in Tours. Clothar followed, but Radegund used her influence with the bishop of Paris to convince Clothar not only to leave her alone but also to give her land with which she could establish a convent for royal women and girls. To strengthen her position, she wrote to Emperor Justin II and Empress Sophia of Byzantium and persuaded them to send her a piece of the relic of the Holy Cross.5 Within a few years, Radegund’s Convent of the Holy Cross had become a flourishing community. By her death in 587 C.E., the convent accommodated almost two hundred women. Radegund was queen and abbess during the Merovingian reign, a period that encouraged literacy among all classes of men and women. Gregory reports that Clothar’s son Childeric even added four letters to the Roman alphabet, “the w of the Greeks, and the œ, the and wi. . . . He sent instructions to all the cities in his kingdom, saying that these letters should be taught to boys in school, and that books using the old characters should have them erased with pumicestone and the new ones written in.”6 According to J. W. Thompson, the Merovingian kings were all capable of signing their own documents, and the firmness of their signatures may indicate that they were not strangers to the pen. When the king was prevented for any reason from signing the royal diplomas, the queen (or the queen-mother, for a minor king) corroborated the official acts which emanated from the royal chancellery.7

Thompson argues that servants were called upon to read aloud to their masters and assist them in scribal activities. Both Gregory of Tours and Thompson make clear the degree to which the Frankish kings admired Roman culture and so learned Latin as a way of maintaining Roman values and customs. What the women of the Franks contributed, and Radegund in particular, was Christian literature—saints’ lives, monastic rules, and the divine office as well as all the readings, hymns, and prayers it included. Latin was vital to developing Christian culture. For her convent, Radegund adopted the Rule of St. Caesarius, the first rule written for women.8 It emphasized two subjects that were of preeminent importance for her: enclosure and literacy. The Rule forbade nuns from ever leaving the convent, specified who could visit, and demanded that all doors except the main entrance be sealed shut. Therefore, fathers and husbands (even if they were kings, like Clothar) could not order or retrieve their daughters or wives once they were inside the monastery. In terms of literacy, the Rule of Caesarius was simple and exact: Omnes litteras discant: “Let them all learn to read and write.” The Rule

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recommended that teaching the young, illuminating manuscripts, and producing books were activities well suited to women. Baudonivia, who grew up in Radegund’s convent, describes Radegund’s teaching in one of literary history’s earliest accounts of women teaching women: When the psalms sung in her presence ended, her reading never ceased, neither day, or night, or for refreshing her body with a small amount of food. When the lesson was read, she would say, showing pious concern for the health of our souls, “If you do not understand what you read, why not search carefully in the mirror of your souls?” And if, out of reverence, the younger members presumed to question her, she, with pious concern and maternal affection, would not cease from teaching what the lesson held for the health of our souls.9

By her own testament, her every public act—founding the convent, acquiring the relic of the Holy Cross, teaching, and writing—was undertaken “for advancing the cause of other women,” thereby setting up for later medieval women an important model of female patronage.10 According to Radegund scholar Karen Cherewatuk, understanding Radegund “is oddly compounded by the extensive documentation of her life.”11 In addition to the two contemporary vitae are Gregory of Tours’s Libri octo miraculorum and his chapter on Radegund in Historia Francorum, all works by writers contemporary with Radegund. Together they “managed to combine the then existing role models for women into a new and powerful image: that of a queen and ‘mother’ through grace, or through God.”12 A fourth source is Radegund herself, whose many epistles, in both verse and prose, celebrate her royal heritage (Ad Iustinum et Sophiam Augustos), offer consolation and family wisdom to a nephew living in exile (Ad Artachis), and chronicle national history and personal loss (De excidio Thoringiae).13 Unlike the bishop of Paris who had helped Radegund establish the Convent of the Holy Cross, the local bishop of Poitiers maintained allegiance to Clothar and was openly hostile to Radegund and the convent. According to Jo Ann McNamara, “in adopting Caesarius’s rule, she meant in some way to tie Sainte-Croix to the diocese of Arles in view of her poor relationship with the see of Poitiers,” who “resented the queen’s independence and the wealth represented by her relic collection, not excluding her own body, which she had secured from episcopal control by special privileges.”14 The Rule of St. Caesarius was binding, granting her convent the privilege of exemption from the local episcopal jurisdiction. Duey White writes that Radegund and her nuns “lived immured under the Rule of Caesarius of Arles, communicating with the outside kingdom largely through the diplomacy of Bishop Gregory and through the pen of Fortunatus.”15 Radegund’s final public transaction was her will and testament, a visionary and political document written to church authorities. Often referred to as “The

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Letter of Foundation,” it recalls her purpose for establishing the Convent of the Holy Cross and delineates her plans for the convent after her death. Gregory of Tours includes the letter in The History of the Franks as the letter that Leubovera, abbess after Radegund’s successor Agnus died, read to members of the convent, whose survival had been put at risk by a faction of nuns threatening revolt.16 Leubovera also sent copies of the letter to the local bishops as a safeguard in case the dissenting nuns appealed to ecclesiastical authority for support. The letter reads as though Radegund knew exactly what—and who—would threaten her legacy.17 Radegund begins the letter by explaining how important enclosed community living is for women. Radegund says that she wanted to endow a convent for women as her way “of being useful to women.” The genius of the letter resides in Radegund’s power of language and rhetorical argument to blur lines of authority in such a way that whoever could offer the most protection—ecclesiastical bishops, local bishops, emperors, or kings—is invested with guardianship of the convent. From beginning to end, the letter empowers both bishops and kings, charging them to punish severely ecclesiastical or courtly authorities, including nuns of the convent, who in the future might violate the Rule of Caesarius or the legacy of Radegund. The conclusion of the letter invokes Mary as the convent’s highest authority. It is in Mary’s name that Radegund has built a church for her nuns and a crypt inside where Radegund will rest forever with her community around her. Stylistically, Radegund’s letter is deliberative, a painstakingly inclusive account of every possible problem that might happen to the convent. In the second paragraph alone, there are almost thirty uses of “or” (vel, aut), as in if after my death it should happen that some person or local bishop or official of the prince or anyone else, which we believe will never happen, should attempt to disrupt the community with malevolent advice or judicial attack or attempt to break the rules or appoint as abbess anyone other than my sister Agnes. . . .

The sentences are built on balanced and periodic structures—the qualifiers are rarely redundant, but they show careful distinctions among the many political and personally manipulative occasions that might give rise to exploiting the convent and diminishing its funds. As such Radegund’s “Letter of Foundation” is a testament to a medieval woman’s experience, erudition, and ability to influence court and ecclesiastical decisions. NOTES Abbreviation: MGH Script. rer. mer. (Monumenta Germanica Historia Scriptores rerum Merovingicarum) 1.

Francis Oakley, The Medieval Experience (Toronto: University of Toronto Press, 1988), p. 29.

Radegund and the Letter of Foundation 2.

3.

15

Baudonivia, a nun at Radegund’s convent, and Fortunatus, the Italian poet, wrote vitae. Baudonivia, De vita sanctae Radegunis Liber II, ed. B. Krusch. MGH Script. rer. mer. 2; Venantius Fortunatus, De vita sanctae Radegundis Liber I, ed. B. Krusch. MGH Script. rer. mer. 2, pp. 364–77. For a comparison of the differences between Baudonivia’s and Fortunatus’s vitae, see Simon Coates: “It would thus seem that Fortunatus’ status as a male cleric consciously conditioned the manner in which he viewed the sanctity of a female saint. Along with his fellow males he constructed an image of Radegund which placed together pieces of an older, male jigsaw.” “Regendering Radegund? Fortunatus, Baudonivia and the Problem of Female Sanctity in Merovingian Gaul,” in Gender and Christian Religion: Papers Read at the 1996 Summer Meeting and the 1997 Winter Meeting of the Ecclesiastical History Society, ed. R. N. Swanson (Rochester, N.Y.: Boydell Press, 1998), p. 42. Baudonivia’s Latin text reads as follow: Dum in villa ipsa adhuc esset, fit sonus, quasi eam rex iterum vellet accipere, se dolens gravi damno pati, qui talem et tantam reginam permississet a latere suo discedere, et nisi eam reciperet, penitus vivere non optaret. Haec audiens beatissima, nimio terrore perterrita, se amplius cruciandam tradidit cilicio asperrimo ac tenero corpori aptavit; insuper et ieiunii cruciationem indixit, vigiliis pernoctans, in oratione se tota diffudit, despexit sedem patriae, vicit dulcedinem coniugis, exclusit caritatem mundialem, elegit exsul fieri, ne peregrinaretur a Christo. (De vita sanctae Radegundis, pp. 364–77) I quote from the Latin in order to highlight the embedded nature of much women’s writing. The translation is by JoAnn McNamara, in Sainted Women of the Dark Ages, ed. JoAnn McNamara and John E. Halborg (Durham, N.C.: Duke University Press, 1992), p. 88. Although Clothar’s name is not known as the origin of the eighteenthcentury rake Lothario, his notoriety with women makes for a remarkable coincidence. Gregory of Tours relates that Clothar had at least five wives before he married Radegund, and when one of his wives, Ingund, asked him to find a husband for her sister, Aregund, Lothar was too much given to woman-chasing to be able to resist this. When he heard what Ingund had to say, he was filled with desire for Aregund. He went off to the villa where she lived and married her. When he had slept with her, he came back to Ingund. “I have done my best to reward you for the sweet request which you put to me,” he said. “I have looked everywhere for a wealthy and wise husband whom I could marry to your sister, but I could find no one more eligible than myself. You must know, then, that I myself have married her. I am sure that this will not displease you.” “You must do as you wish,” answered Ingund. [Gregory of Tours, The History of the Franks, trans. Lewis Thorpe (London: Penguin, 1974), p. 198]

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Fortunatus, De vita sanctae, p. 367. Barbara Rosenwein provides an interesting insight into the gendered meaning of the Holy Cross: “This was a ‘woman’s’ relic. It had been discovered by Helena, mother of Constantine, and in the monastery of Radegund, where it joined a cache of other precious relics, it was off-limits to the public and even to most men. . . .” Negotiating Space: Power, Restraint, and Privileges of Immunity in Early Medieval Europe (Ithaca, N.Y.: Cornell University Press, 1999), p. 52. 6. Gregory of Tours, History of the Franks, p. 312. 7. J. W. Thompson, The Literacy of the Laity in the Middle Ages (New York: Burt Franklin, 1963), p. 5. 8. Caesarius of Arles, Rule for Nuns, trans. Mary Caritas McCarthy (Washington, D.C.: Catholic University of America Press, 1960). 9. Baudonivia’s Latin text reads as follows: Cum ante eam vicibus psalmus cessasset, lectio numquam discessit, non die, non nocte, non dum vel paululum corpus suum refecit. Cum lectio legebatur, illa sollicitudine pia animarum nostrarum curam gerens, dicebat: “Si non intellegitis quod legitur, quid est, quod non sollicite requiritis speculum animarum vestrarum?” Quod etsi minus pro reverentia interrogare praesumebatur, illa pia sollicitudine maternoque affectu, quod lectio continebat, ad animae salutem praedicare non cessabat. (De vita sanctae Radegundis, pp. 383–84) 10.

“The case of Queen (and later Saint) Radgund is significant,” writes June Hall McCash, “for it demonstrates that women in this period who had not found freedom for such generosity through the benevolence of their husbands could sometimes do so within the female world behind convent walls. . . . It is, therefore, not surprising that many women, among them those who found themselves in difficult domestic situations as well as those who were widowed, elected to enter the convent.” “The Cultural Patronage of Medieval Women: An Overview,” in The Cultural Patronage of Medieval Woman, ed. June Hall McCash (Athens: University of Georgia Press), p. 12. 11. Karen Cherewatuk, “Radegund and Epistolary Tradition,” in Dear Sister: Medieval Women and the Epistolary Genre, ed. Karen Cherewatuk and Ulrike Wiethaus (Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press, 1993), p. 22. 12. Giselle De Nie, “Consciousness Fecund through God: From Male Fighter to Spiritual Bride-Mother in Late Antique Female Sanctity,” in Sanctity and Motherhood: Essays on Holy Mothers in the Middle Ages, ed. Anneke B. Mulder-Bakker (New York: Garland Publishing, 1995), p. 105. Similarly, Suzanne Fonay Wemple notes that the “childless Radegund in Baudonivia’s Vita assumed the responsibilities of motherhood, nurturing and disciplining the spirit of the sisters with boundless energy. . . . An extension of Radegund’s role as mother was her function as domina, which she discharged with strictness and kindness. Women in Frankish Society: Marriage and the Cloister, 500 to 900 (Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press, 1981), p. 184. 13. Radegund’s letters are included in MGH, Auctores Antiquissimi, ed. F. Leo, vol. 4, part I, pp. 271–79. Translations appear in Marcelle Thiébaux, The Writings of

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14. 15. 16. 17.

17

Medieval Women (New York: Garland Publishing, 1994), pp. 85–124, and in McNamara and Halborg, cited above. McNamara, Sainted Women, p. 114. Duey White, “Radegunde,” in An Encyclopedia of Continental Women Writers, ed. Katharina M. Wilson (New York: Garland Publishing, 1991), p. 1026. Gregory of Tours, History of the Franks, pp. 534–38. The trouble began when one of the nuns, Clotild, made the startling accusation that Radegund had allowed two men to live in the convent, each dressed as a woman, and now Leubovera was using her position as abbess to take sexual advantage of them. At the trial, Clotild said that both abbesses had slept with one man and had castrated the other. The first man defended Radegund and Leubovera, saying he was impotent and that was the reason why he dressed as a woman. The other man had been the convent’s servant. At the trial, a physician testified that the servant’s mother had brought him to Radegund as a young boy suffering severe abdominal pains. The mother begged Radegund to help him. Radegund summoned the physician, who said, “I cut out the lad’s testicles, an operation I had once seen performed by a surgeon in the town of Constantinople.” The mother left the boy with Radegund, who then dressed him as one of her nuns. For Radegund, the robed and veiled female body annuls anatomy and biological destiny, coming as close to sanctification as is physically and spiritually possible. Gregory of Tours, History of the Franks, pp. 567–75.

EXEMPLAR EPISTULAE Dominis sanctis et apostolica sede dignissimis in Christo patribus, omnibus episcopis Radegundis peccatrix. Congruae provisionis tunc roborabiliter ad effectum tendit exordium, cum generalibus patribus, medicis ac pastoribus ovilis sibi conmissi causa auribus traditur, cuius sensibus conmendatur; quorum participatio de caritate consilium, de potestate suffragium, de oratione ministrare poterit interventum. Et quoniam olim vinclis laicalibus absoluta, divina providente et inspirante clementia, ad relegionis normam visa sum voluntariae duce Christo translata, ac pronae mentis studio cogitans etiam de aliarum profectibus, ut, annuente Domino, mea desideria efficerentur reliquis profutura, instituente atque remunerante praecellentissmo domno rege Chlothario, monastirium puellarum Pectava urbe constitui conditumque, quantum mihi munificentia regalis est largita, facta donatione, dotavi; insuper congregationem per me, Christo praestante, collectae regulam, sub qua sancta Casaria deguit, quam sollicitudo beati Caesarii antestites Arelatensis ex institutione sanctorum patrum convenienter collegit, adscivi. Cui, consentientibus beatissimis vel huius civitatis vel reliquis pontificibus, electione etiam nostrae congregationis, domnam et sororem meam Agnitem, quam ab ineunte aetate loco filiae colui et eduxi, abbatissam institui ac me post Deum eius ordinatione regulariter oboedituram conmisi. Cuique, formam apostolicam observantes, tam ego quam sorores de substantia terrena quae possedere videbamur, factis cartis, tradedimus, metu Annaniae et Saffirae in monastirio positae nihil proprium reservantes.

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Sed quoniam incerta sunt humanae conditionis momenta vel tempora, quippe mundo in fine currente, cum aliqui magis propriae quam divinae cupiant voluntate servire, zelo ducta Dei, hanc suggestionis meae paginam mereto apostulatus vestri in Christi nomen supraestis porrego vel devota. Et quia praesens non valui, quasi vestris provoluta vestigiis, epistulae vicarietate prosternor, coniurans per Patrem et Filium et Spiritum sanctum ac diem tremendi iudicii, sic repraesentatos vos non tyrannus obpugnit, sed legitimus rex coronet, ut, si casu post meum obitum, si quaecumque persona vel loci eiusdem pontifex seu potestas principis vel alius, quod nec fieri crediumus, congregationem vel suasu malivolo vel inpulsu iudiciario perturbare temptaverit aut regulam frangere seu abbatissam alteram quam sororem meam Agnitem, quam beatissimi Germani praesentibus suis fratribus benedictio consecravit, aut ipsa congregatio, quod fieri non potest, habita murmoratione, mutare contenderit, vel quasdam dominationes in monasterio vel rebus monastirii quaecumque persona vel pontifex loci, praeter quas antecessores episcopi aut alii, me superstete, habuerunt, novo privilegio quicumque affectare voluerit, aut extra regulam exinde egredi quis temptaverit; seu de rebus, quas in me praecellentissimus domnus Chlotharius vel praecellentissimi domni reges, filii sui, contulerunt et ego ex eius praeceptiones permisso monastirio tradidi possedendum et per auctoritates praecellentissimorum domnorum regum Chariberthi, Guntchramni, Chilperici et Sigiberthi cum sacramenti interpositione et suarum manuum subscriptionibus obtenui confirmari; aut ex his, quae alii pro animarum suarum remedio vel sorores ibidem de rebus propriis contulerunt, aliquis princeps aut pontifex aut potens aut de sororibus cuiuslibet personae aut minuere aut sibimet ad proprietatem revocare sacrilego voto contenderit, ita vestra sanctitatem successorumque vestrorum post Deum pro mea supplicatione et Christi voluntate incurrat, ut, sicut praedones et spoliatores pauperum extra gratiam vestram habeantur numquam de nostra regula vel de rebus monasterii, obsistentibus vobis, inmenuere valeat aliquid aut mutare. Hoc etiam depraecans, ut, cum Deus praedictam domnam sororem nostram Agnitem de saeculo migrare voluerit, illa in loco eius abbatissa de nostra congregatione debeat ordinare, quae Deo et ipsi placuerit, custodiens regulam, et nihil de proposito sanctitatis imminuat; nam numquam propria aut cuiuscumque voluntas praecipitat. Quod si, quod absit, contra Dei mandatum et auctoritatem regum aliquis de suprascriptis condicionibus vobis coram Domino et sanctis eius praecabiliter conmendatis agere aut de persona aut substantiam minuenda voluerit aut memoratae sorore meae Agnite abbatissae molestias aliquas inferre temptaverit, Dei et sanctae Crucis et beatae Mariae incurrat iudicium, et beatus confessores Helarium et Martinum, quibus post Deum sorores meas tradidi defendendas, ipsos habeat contradictores et persecutores. Te quoque, beati ponitfex, successoresque vestros, quos patronos in causa Dei diligenter adscisco, si, quod absit, exteterit, qui contra haec aliquid moliri temptaverit, pro repellendo et confutando Dei hoste non pigeat ad regum, quem eo tempore locus iste respexerit, vel ad Pectavam civitatem pro re vobis ante Dominum conmendatam percurrere et contra aliorum iniustitia exsecutores et

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defensores iustitiae laborare, ut tale nefas ullo modo suis admitti temporibus rex patiatur catholicus, ne convelli permittant, quod Dei et mea et regum ipsorum voluntate firmatum est. Simul etiam principes, quos Deus pro gubernatione populi post discessum meum superesse praeceperit, coniuro per Regem, “cuius non erit finis” et ad cuius nutum regna consistunt, qui eis donavit ipsum vivere vel regnare, ut monasterium, quod ex permisso et solatio domnorum regum patres vel avi eorum construxisse visa sum et ordinasse regulariter vel dotasse, sub sua tuitione et sermone una cum Agne abbatissa iubeant gubernare; et a nullo neque saepe dictam abbatissam nostram neque aliquid ad nostrum monasterium pertenentem molestari aut inquietari vel exinde imminui aut aliquid mutari permittat; sed magis pro Dei intuitu una cum domnis episcopis ipsi, me supplecante coram Redemptorem gentium, sicut eis conmendo, defensari iubeant et muniri, ut, in cuius honore Dei famulas protegunt, cum defensore pauperum et sponso virginum perpetualiter aeterno socientur in regno. Illud quoque vos sanctos pontifices et praecellentissimos domnos reges et universum populum christianum coniuro per fidem catholicam, in qua baptizati estis et ecclesias conservatis, ut in basilica, quam in sanctae Mariae dominicae genetrices honore coepimus aedificare, ubi etiam multae sorores nostrae conditae sunt in requie, sive perfecta sive inperfecta, cum me Deus de hac luce migrare praeceperit, corpuscolum meum ibi debeat sepeliri. Quod si quis aliud inde voluerit aut fieri temptaverit, obtenente cruce Christi et beata Maria, divinam ultionem incurrat, et vobis intercurrentibus, in loco ipsius basilicae merear cum sororum congregationem obtenere loculum sepulturae. Et ut haec supplicatio mea, quam manu propria subscripsi, ut in universalis aeclesiae archevo servetur, effusis cum lacrimis depraecor, quatinus, si contra inprobos aliquos necessitas exerit, ut vestra defensione soror mea Agnis abbatissa vel congregatio eius, quo succurri sibi poposcerint, vestrae misericordiae pia consolatio opem pastorali sollicitudine subministret, nec de me distitutas se proclament, quibus Deus praesidium vestrae gratiae praeparavit. Illud vobis in omnibus ante oculos revocantes, per ipsum, qui de cruce gloriosam virginem suam genetricem, beato Iohanni apostolo commendavit, ut, qualiter ab illo conpletum est Domini de mandato, sic sit apud vos indigna et humilis dominis meis aeclesiae patribus et viris apostolicis quod commendo; quod cum dignanter servaveritis deposito, meretis participes, cuius impletis mandatum, apostolicum digne reparetis exemplum. TRANSLATION BY JANE E. JEFFREY To the holy men and fathers most worthy of the apostolic see, to all the bishops, from Radegund, a sinner. The beginning of a suitable undertaking is strengthened when the affair is brought to the ears of the church fathers, doctors, and pastors of the flock committed to them, to whose considerations it is commended; by whose participation, loving counsel, strong support, and prayer will be able to further the project along.

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And whereas in the past, freed from the responsibilities of a worldly life, with divine mercy and holy grace, willingly I chose the life of religious rule under the command of Christ, and, with a zealous mind, I began to think about advancing the cause of other women so that with my desires to be useful to women, with God’s assistance, and with the foundation and endowment by the most excellent lord and king Clothar, a monastery for girls was established and founded in the city of Poitiers; as much as royal generosity provided, I endowed it with that largess. In addition, for the assembled community established by me, with Christ’s direction, I adopted the rule according to which lived St. Caesaria, which (rule) the care of the blessed bishop Caesarius of Arles suitably collected from the instruction of the holy fathers. With the assent of the most blessed bishops from the city and other bishops, and also with the choice of our community, the lady and my sister Agnes, who from a young age I have cared for and educated as a daughter, I have appointed as abbess and, after God, have committed myself in regular obedience to her authority. And, observing the apostolic model, the other sisters and I handed over by deed the worldly property we were seen to possess when we entered the convent, reserving nothing for ourselves from fear of the fate that befell Ananias and Sapphira.1 But since events and times of the human condition are uncertain, and to be sure the world is hastening toward its end, when some wish to gratify their own desires rather than the divine will, with the zeal of God’s command, as a loyal witness, I send this letter with my thoughts to you, apostles in the name of Christ. And because I am unable to be present, I throw myself at your feet vicariously through this letter, begging by the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit and the day of the terrible judgment, so may no tyrant harass you, calling you to trial, but may the legitimate king crown you, so that, if by chance after my death it should happen that some person or local bishop or official of the prince or anyone else, which we believe will never happen, should attempt to disrupt the community with malevolent advice or judicial attack or attempt to break the rules or appoint as abbess anyone other than my sister Agnes, whom the blessings of most blessed Germanus consecrated in the presence of his brothers, or if the community itself, which I do not believe possible, begins to murmur, strives to make changes, or if any irresponsible person in the monastery or anyone on monastic property, even the local bishop, or any other person who survives me wish to aspire to some new privilege beyond that held by earlier bishops or who attempts to overstep the rule; or with regard to monastic property, which the most excellent lord Chlothar or the most excellent lord kings, his sons, conferred on me, and I, by his injunction and permission, transferred to the monastery my possessions and by the authority of

1

Acts 5:1–11 relates the story of Ananias and his wife, Sapphira, who, when they hold back some of their property from the apostles, are fatally struck down.

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the most excellent lords, the kings Charibert, Guntram, Chilperic, and Sigibert, held and strengthened with an oath and with signatures in their own hands; or others who for the salvation of their souls, or the sisters who bring their own property, or any prince or bishop or ruler or any of the sisters wish to strive with sacrilegious intent to diminish or take away property, just as plunderers and robbers of the poor, or prevails to lessen or change anything in our rule or in the operation of the monastery: may they incur the wrath of your holiness and your successors, and, through my prayers and the will of Christ, may the despoilers of the poor be held outside your grace, and with your resistance, may nothing ever prevail to diminish or change with respect to our rule or affairs of the monastery. This I also entreat you: when God wishes to take the aforesaid Lady Agnes, our sister, from this life, let another from our community be appointed abbess, who will please God and the community itself, protect our Rule, and do nothing to lessen our holy purpose; nor allow her own will or that of any other overthrow it. And if anyone, God forbid, should wish to act against the command of God and authority of kings, or against the conditions previously cited and recommended in the presence of God and His saints or against any person or property or attempt to bring trouble to my previously mentioned sister Agnes, the abbess, may that person incur the judgment of God, the Holy Cross, and the blessed Mary and have as enemies and pursuers the confessors Hilary and Martin, to whom, after God, I have entrusted my sisters. And I beg you, also, blessed bishop and your successors, whom I accept as patrons in the cause of God, if, God forbid, there is anyone who will attempt to struggle against these matters, there should be no reluctance to call upon the king for repelling or putting to flight the enemy of God, do not hesitate to hasten to the king who, at that time, is ruling over this place and the city of Poitiers, on behalf of what has been commended to you as your responsibility before God, or to work for the correction of injustice and the defense of justice, so that no Catholic king of the time will suffer any abomination or permit to be weakened that which has been founded by the will of God, myself, and kings themselves. Likewise, I conjure by the King that the princes, whom, after my death, God, “whose reign will never end,” will appoint in order to govern the people and by whose command kingdoms are formed and who has given them their power to live and rule: that, with the permission of the kings and their fathers and grandfathers, I have seen built and ordered by religious rule and endowed for the care of the sisters, whom, together with the Abbess Agnes, they are ordered to protect; and let not anyone trouble our often-mentioned abbess or let anyone change or thereafter diminish anything pertaining to our monastery. But rather for the sake of God, together with the lord bishops themselves, as I kneel in the presence of the Redeemer of all people, as I commend it to them, they order it to be defended and protected, so that they may be united eternally in the kingdom with the defender of the poor and the spouse of virgins, in whose honor they protect the handmaids of God.

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This also I conjure you, holy bishops and most excellent lords, kings, and the entire Christian people by the Catholic faith, in which you have been baptized and have maintained the church, when God should have me removed from this light, permit my body to be buried in this church, which we have begun to build in honor of Saint Mary, the mother of God, whether completed or not, and where already many of our sisters are laid to rest. And if anyone then wishes or attempts the contrary, may he incur divine vengeance by virtue of the cross of Christ and the blessed Mary, and, by your intercession, may I deserve to have a burial place here in this church with the community of my sisters. And that this my prayer, which I have written with my own hand so that it may be preserved among the archives of the universal church, I entreat you with tears pouring forth, such that if the wicked should make it necessary that my sister, the abbess Agnes, or her community must ask for your merciful compassion, they will have the pious consolation of your pastoral works, which in your loving kindness you gave them so that they would not proclaim themselves forsaken of me, because God has made ready for them the protection of your grace. Recalling all of this for your eyes, through Him, who from His glorious cross commended His virgin mother to the blessed apostle John so that just as by him God’s commandment has been fulfilled, so may you be fulfilled with that which I, unworthy and humble, commend to you my lords, the fathers and apostolic men of the church; and when you have kept the trust which I have committed to you, you will be worthy participants in His plan, whose command having been fulfilled by worthy apostles, you will have renewed His example. BIBLIOGRAPHY Primary Sources Baudonivia. De vita sanctae Radegundis Liber II. Edited by B. Krusch. MGH Script. rer. mer. 2, pp. 377–95. Fortunatus, Venantius. De vita sanctae Radegundis Liber I. Edited by B. Krusch. MGH Script. rer. mer. 2, pp. 364–77. Gregory of Tours. The History of the Franks. Translated by Lewis Thrope. London: Penguin, 1974. Radegund. “Exemplar Epistulae.” In Gregory of Tours, Historia Francorum, Bk. IX, edited by W. Arndt and B. Krusch. 1–450 MGH Script. rer. mer. 1.

Secondary Works Cherewatuk, Karen. “Radegund and Epistolary Tradition.” In Dear Sister: Medieval Women and the Epistolary Genre, edited by Karen Cherewatuk and Ulrike Wiethaus, 20–45. Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press, 1993. Coates, Simon. “Regendering Radegund? Fortunatus, Baudonivia and the Problem of Female Sanctity in Merovingian Gaul.” In Gender and Christian Religion: Papers

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Read at the 1996 Summer Meeting and the 1997 Winter Meeting of the Ecclesiastical History Society, edited by R. N. Swanson, 37–50. Rochester, N.Y.: Boydell Press, 1998. De Nie, Giselle. “‘Consciousness Fecund through God’: From Male Fighter to Spiritual Bride-Mother in Late Antique Female Sanctity.” In Sanctity and Motherhood: Essay on Holy Mothers in the Middle Ages, edited by Anneke B. Mulder-Bakker, 101–61. New York: Garland Publishing, 1995. McCarthy, Mother Maria Caritas. The Rule of Nuns of St. Caearius of Arles: A Translation with a Critical Introduction. Washington, D.C.: Catholic University of America Press, 1960. McCash, June Hall. “The Cultural Patronage of Medieval Women: An Overview.” In The Cultural Patronage of Medieval Women, edited by June Hall McCash 1–49. Athens: University of Georgia Press, 1996. McNamara, Jo Ann, and John E. Halborg. Sainted Women of the Dark Ages. Durham, N.C.: Duke University Press, 1992. Oakley, Francis. The Medieval Experience. Toronto: University of Toronto Press, 1988. Rosenwein, Barbara H. Negotiating Space: Power, Restraint, and Privileges of Immunity in Early Medieval Europe. Ithaca, N.Y.: Cornell University Press, 1999. Schulenberg, Jane Tibbetts. “Female Sanctity: Public and Private Roles, ca. 500–1100.” In Women and Power in the Middle Ages, edited by Mary Erler and Maryanne Kowaleski, 102–25. Athens: University of Georgia Press, 1988. Thiébaux, Marcelle, ed. and trans. The Writings of Medieval Women. New York: Garland Publishing, 1994. Thompson, J. W. The Literacy of the Laity in the Middle Ages. New York: Burt Franklin, 1963. Wemple, Suzanne Fonay. Women in Frankish Society: Marriage and the Cloister, 500 to 900. Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press, 1981. White, Duey. “Radegunde.” In An Encyclopedia of Continental Women Writers, edited by Katharina M. Wilson. New York: Garland Publishing, 1991.

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A Schoolgirl and Mistress Felhin: A Devout Petition from Ninth-Century Saxony Steven A. Stofferahn

It was, perhaps, late one afternoon in the Essen library that a young girl penned her petition to schoolmistress Felhin. Asking nothing more than the privilege of keeping vigil with the abbess that evening, this request, written on a flyleaf of a ninth-century manuscript, has survived those late-night prayers by a millennium to inform modern scholars of the literary culture in which this student lived and worked.1 The image often associated with female education in the ninth century is one of passive reception, stemming from what some have characterized as a deliberate process of gendered intellectual isolation. While the Frankish noblewoman Dhuoda has gained recent acclaim for the richness and complexity of her advice book, her anomalous status as the only named female author of her day has precluded a more wide-ranging consideration of her contemporaries.2 It is in just such a context that this short note from the 870s can help to ameliorate modern views of Carolingian women by delineating the discrepancy between prescription and reality. Noting trends in early medieval historiography of the past thirty years, Janet Nelson has observed a gradual relocation of the “fringe” into the “center.”3 While Carolingian women’s education and literary accomplishments have traditionally been seen in this “exceptional” context, consideration of the schoolgirl’s petition and the manuscript into which it was written may provide a clearer window into women’s thoughts and activities, showing that, whereas their intellectual life may have been rather more internal and private than that of their male counterparts, it was nevertheless a vibrant one, existing not on the fringe of the Carolingian Renaissance but rather closer to its center. That we do not even know the name of the author of the petition in the Essen book is at once fitting and ironic: fitting in that this was a young woman most likely preparing for a life of religious devotion, a life that disparaged individuality, 25

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yet ironic, too, since her short note tells us so much about her world. Despite her enduring anonymity, however, it is possible to contextualize her petition with what we do know of the history and character of her particular community. Situated between the Lippe and Ruhr rivers, Essen developed in a thinly settled agrarian region of western Saxony (now northwestern Germany). It was only after a bitter thirty-year struggle that Charlemagne was able to annex this area to his empire in 804. A gradual process of cultural incorporation, building upon earlier missionary efforts, would take root in the following decades, bringing the effects of the Carolingian Renaissance into these new eastern territories. Frankish centers of learning in the West provided scribes, teachers, and manuscripts for newly founded Saxon religious houses, including Werden, Corvey, and Essen.4 The codex into which the schoolgirl entered her note (Düsseldorf, Landes- und Universitätbibliothek Sammelhandschrift B.3, hereafter Düss B.3) certainly acted as one of the conduits making this cultural and educational link possible, containing as it does a rich collection of scriptural excerpts, saints’ lives, hymns, and excerpts from the writings of Alcuin, Bede, Claudius of Turin, Gregory, and Augustine. The journey of Düss B.3 from its inception around Corbie in the 820s to newly Christianized Saxony by the 860s illustrates a strong tradition of intellectual exchange and, more important, a manifestation of the official patronage of new educational foundations that played such a significant role in the Carolingian Renaissance. Though Essen’s “golden age” truly arrived in the Ottonian era of the tenth and eleventh centuries, its earlier history is certainly not lacking its own commanding stature.5 True to the character of Carolingian intellectual culture, Essen ultimately owed most of its early authority and power to the patronage of its founder, Altfrid, bishop of Hildesheim (b. 800, bp. 851–874). In her recent synthesis of Christian women’s religious experience, Jo Ann McNamara singled out the importance of Saxon families’ support of female houses, calling the German nobility “spectacularly active” in this arena.6 Altfrid fits this characterization exceptionally well, as he spent a good deal of effort planning for his women’s community, acquiring land, relics, papal rights of immunity, and, we can assume, manuscripts in the years leading up to its actual founding.7 It was the year after his own episcopal ascension that Altfrid established the Damenstift at Essen in 852, installing his own sister, Gerswith, as its first abbess.8 A full eighteen years later Altfrid proudly informed an assembly of fellow Saxon bishops of Essen’s growing success and independence, thereby illustrating his pervasive concern for the welfare of this newly founded community, so characteristic of his contemporary Carolingian patrons.9 From its inception, Essen was intended for noblewomen only. Michel Parisse has noted the regularity of the pattern of establishing early medieval religious houses in which noble patrons would set aside land; procure episcopal, papal, or royal guarantees of the community’s property rights; and then reserve

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the rights of the abbacy for their own families.10 Such a construct fulfilled an important role in the world of the nobility: the daughters they placed there could become respected abbesses or perhaps simply be housed and educated there in preparation for arranged marriages.11 In either case, Essen’s residents not only learned how to read and write but also how to assume their positions at the heads of powerful families or institutions when the time came.12 It is difficult to assign any definite classification to the women’s community at Essen, partly because ninth-century documents are not particularly clear on the subject, but even more so because this particular issue encompasses a few key aspects of the larger debate on the status of Carolingian women. The fundamental question regarding the character of early Essen is whether it was a Kloster (nunnery) or a Kanonissenstift (canonical house). The confusion stems right from the heart of the Carolingian renovatio; Benedict of Aniane, Louis the Pious’s chief reformer, produced at the Council of Aachen in 816 his recommendations for the standardization of religious institutions. While he made clear distinctions between the different types of men’s foundations, he chose to combine all religious women into one general category, sanctimoniales.13 Benedict’s directives for the operation of women’s communities were vague, combining aspects of several different regulae, but it seems that, at least in his ideal, women would have lived communally with limited outside contact, but also they would have retained the right to hold private property. Ideals, of course, are not necessarily reflected in reality, and different types of female religious houses most likely continued to function independently of one another. In spite of the lingering uncertainty, though, most historians have agreed that Essen was probably a Stift from its foundation in 852. Several key characteristics set a Kanonissenstift apart from its cloistered counterpart; while a nunnery was most often associated with the Rule of St. Benedict, the canonesses of a Stift lived under the regula unique to their particular house. Canonesses could also dispose of private property, live in private quarters (sometimes with servants), and maintain close connections to their families—even taking extended leaves for visits. They took no formal vows of poverty or common property, but they did carry out various public services (liturgical and charitable) from time to time.14 The most fundamental difference, however, lay in the two institutions’ varying degrees of exposure to the outside world and, therefore, to the cultural and literary developments of their time. The attempt to clarify the nature of the community at Essen fits into a broader historiographical debate on the status and activities of literate Carolingian noblewomen. The framework of the debate took shape almost twenty years ago when Suzanne Wemple forwarded her general hypothesis of the inverse relationship between the rise of centralized Carolingian authority and the opportunities for women. She concluded that the new literary products of the Carolingian Renaissance were authored primarily, if not solely, by men and that Charlemagne’s revival of learning bypassed women’s communities.15 Jo Ann McNamara

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concurred, recently insisting that in addition to isolating women intellectually, the Carolingians also abandoned any pretense of women’s spiritual equality, opting instead for domination by a male hierarchy.16 Though Wemple’s paradigm has exercised considerable influence on academic conceptions of the Carolingian Renaissance over the past two decades, many of its assumptions and arguments have since been challenged. Leading Carolingian scholars, including Janet Nelson, John Contreni, and Rosamond McKitterick, have revealed the potent possibilities of writing women back into the history of ninth-century literary culture, calling particular attention to women’s roles as educators, as probable authors of many yet-anonymous Carolingian works, and as strenuae matronae and magnates—positions requiring considerable acumen and skill.17 In addition to these persuasive arguments, Düss B.3 itself presents telling evidence for the reincorporation of women into the broader cultural context of the Carolingian Renaissance.18 The two names, Adalu and Felhin, referred to in the schoolgirl’s petition give us a good initial clue as to the extent of Essen’s connections with the wider world around it. Of special interest are the fortunate references to these women in a Werden missal and a St. Gall “confraternity book,” both from the late ninth century.19 The former happens to have listed them among Essen’s nomina vivorum at the time of its arrival at Essen shortly after 870, thereby allowing us to gauge the general timeframe of the schoolgirl’s tenure there.20 Far deeper significance, however, lies in the names’ inclusion in the liber confraternitatum, a genre that held special meaning in early medieval monastic culture. Developing out of the early church’s directive that everyone ought to offer up oblations for their Christian dead so that priests may then commemorate them, the compilation of names of living members of several different religious houses into one large book made it possible for a community to keep the members of a related house in its prayers from day to day, and vice versa.21 The inclusion of these and several other women’s names in this well-known St. Gall codex thus testifies to Essen’s place within what one historian has called an extensive “network of prayer” across the Carolingian Empire.22 The contents of Düss B.3 likewise attest to the codex’s sophistication. Living up to the name Sammelhandschrift, the manuscript contains a wide range of elements, with a particularly rich collection of scriptural excerpts and commentary.23 In her classic analysis of medieval biblical culture, Beryl Smalley referred to the Bible as “a school book par excellence” and to the study of the scriptures as the history of medieval teaching methods.24 No statement could ring truer for the structure and use of Düss B.3, whose collection of Bible verses, though hitherto dismissed as a kind of “mish-mash,” can reveal a striking pattern of pedagogical creativity. If taken as a narrative whole, the codex’s biblical catena shows a marked propensity for emphasizing values and behavior appropriate to monastic novices. And, more important, it consistently features the piety and wisdom of several biblical women, paying them a great deal more attention than their male

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counterparts.25 One may thus see how the manuscript’s creators worked within the flexible Carolingian exegetical tradition to create a work that fit the needs of its intended audience, namely, religious women. In the end, the most compelling bit of evidence we have for the schoolgirl’s intellectual world is, appropriately enough, the note she herself unwittingly left to us. One immediately appreciates the personal manner in which the student’s plea informs her modern counterparts about ninth-century literary culture. In spite of the girl’s enduring anonymity, the petition itself shows its author not only as having internalized the spiritual values embraced by Carolingian reformers but also as having developed the learned skills needed to bring those values to practical fruition.26 In writing this petition, the young schoolgirl was thus testifying not to any sense of perceived isolation but rather to her own inclusion in the revival of learning that was the Carolingian Renaissance. NOTES 1. Düsseldorf, Landes- und Universitätsbibliothek Sammelhandschrift B.3, fol. 305v. 2. Dhuoda, Manuel pour mon fils, ed. Pierre Riché, trans. Bernard de Vregille and Claude Mondésert, Sources chrétiennes 225 (Paris: Éditions du Cerf, 1975); Dhuoda, Handbook for William: A Carolingian Woman’s Counsel for Her Son, ed. and trans. Carol Neel (Lincoln: University of Nebraska Press, 1991). The body of literature on Dhuoda is immense, and it is growing all the time. See Peter Dronke, Women Writers of the Middle Ages. A Critical Study of Texts from Perpetua (†203) to Marguerite Porete (†1310) (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1984); Martin A. Claussen, “Fathers of Power and Mothers of Authority: Dhuoda and the Liber manualis,” Fathers of Power and Mothers of Authority 19 (1996): 785–809; and Rebecca Anne Walker, “Unadorned by Silence: Rereading Obedience in the Writing of Perpetua, Dhuoda, and Hildegard of Bingen” (master’s thesis, Portland State University, 1993), for a few recent reinterpretations of Dhuoda’s work. 3. Janet L. Nelson, “Women and the Word in the Earlier Middle Ages,” Studies in Church History 27 (1990): 43. 4. Rosamond McKitterick, “Women and Literacy in the Early Middle Ages,” in Books, Scribes and Learning in the Frankish Kingdoms, 6th–9th Centuries, ed. Rosamond McKitterick (Aldershot: Variorum, 1994), XIII, pp. 16–17; eadem, “Continuity and Innovation in Tenth-Century Ottonian Culture,” in Intellectual Life in the Middle Ages: Essays Presented to Margaret Gibson, ed. Lesley Smith and Benedicta Ward (London: Hambledon, 1992), p. 20; Wolf Schneider, Essen: Das Abenteuer einer Stadt (Düsseldorf: Econ, 1963), pp. 13–14; Thomas Schilp, “Die Grundherrschaftsorganisation des hochadligen Damenstifts Essen: Von der wirtschaftlichen Erschlie␤ung zur politisch-administrativen Erfassung des Raumes,” in Vergessene Zeiten: Mittelalter im Ruhrgebiet, ed. by Ferdinand Seibt (Essen, P. Pomp, 1990), p. 92; and Alfred Pothmann, Altfrid: Bischof und Staatsmann (Mülheim a. d. Ruhr: Hoppe and Werry, 1974), p. 44.

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6.

7. 8.

9.

10.

11.

12.

For details on Essen’s rise in status to one of the leading Ottonian Reichsstifte, see Schneider, Essen, p. 42; Winfried Bettecken, Stift und Stadt Essen: “Coenobium Astnide” und Siedlungsentwicklung bis 1244 (Münster: Aschendorff, 1988), p. 2; Erich Wisplinghoff, “Untersuchungen zur frühen Geschichte von Stift und Stadt Essen,” Beiträge zur Geschichte von Stadt und Stift Essen 103 (1989): 56; Gerd Althoff, “Unerkannte Zeugnisse vom Totengedenken der Liudolfinger,” Deutsches Archiv für Erforschung des Mittelalters 32 (1979): 378; and Anna Ulrich, “Die Kanonissen: Ein vergangener und vergessener Stand der Kirche,” in Liturgie und Frauenfrage: Ein Beitrag zur Frauenforschung aus liturgiewissenschaftlicher Sicht, ed. Teresa Berger and Albert Gerhards, Pietas Liturgica (St. Ottilien: EOS, 1990), p. 188. Jo Ann McNamara, Sisters in Arms: Catholic Nuns through Two Millennia (Cambridge, Mass.: Harvard University Press, 1996), pp. 181–82. Though she focuses her comments on the tenth and eleventh centuries, the same can surely be said for the activities of Altfrid and some of his contemporary Saxon bishops, especially considering Saxony’s status as a kind of “fringe” area, and also in light of their active support of new institutions like Gandersheim, Quedlinburg, and Nordhausen. See Bettecken (note 5), pp. 8–9, for his discussion of the postwar Christianizing efforts in Saxony, and the energetic participation by noble Saxon families newly allied to Charlemagne. Schneider, Essen, p. 17; Pothmann, Altfrid, pp. 23–24. Heinrich Tiefenbach, Xanten-Essen-Köln: Untersuchungen zur Nordgrenze des Althochdeutschen an niederrheinischen Personennamen des 9–11. Jahrhunderts (Göttingen: VandenGoeck and Ruprecht, 1984), pp. 112–13, 123; Pothmann, Altfrid, p. 48; and Volkhard Huth, “Die Düsseldorfer Sakramentarhandschrift D.1 als Memorialzeugnis: Mit einer Wiedergabe der Namen und Namengruppen,” Frühmittelalterliche Studien 20 (1986): 245–46. Any attempt to elucidate clearly the early history of Essen, however, encounters formidable obstacles, stemming largely from the devastating fires of 946 and 1275, which spared only forty documents for the period between Essen’s founding in 852 and 1244, and only very few of those deal directly or indirectly with its settlement and residents (Wisplinghoff, 54). Theodore Joseph Lacomblet, Urkundenbuch für die Geschichte des Niederrheins (Aalen: Scientia, 1966), pp. 35–36, Nr. 69. Altfrid made a special point of ensuring the Damenstift’s right to elect its own abbesses. See also Schneider, Essen, 21; Pothmann, Altfrid, 46; and Hans Goetting, Das Bistum Hildesheim: Die Hildesheimer Bischöfe von 815 bis 1221 (1227), vol. 20, Germania Sacra (Berlin: Walter de Gruyter, 1984), pp. 106–7. Michel Parisse, “Les Femmes au monastère dans le nord de l’Allemagne du IXe au XIe siècle: Conditions sociales et religieuses,” in Frauen in Spätantike und Frühmittelalter: Lebensbedingungen—Lebensnormen—Lebensformen, ed. Werner Affeldt (Sigmaringen: Jan Thorbecke, 1990), pp. 313–16. Ute Braun, “Hochadlige Frauen des kaiserlichfreiweltlichen Damenstifts Essen: Neue Fragestellungen,” in Vergessene Frauen an der Ruhr: Von Herrscherinnen und Hörigen, Hausfrauen und Hexen, 800–1800, ed. Bea Lundt (Cologne: Böhlau, 1992), pp. 69–72. “Abbesses, elles exercent le pouvoir comme le font les hommes; elles accèdent à l’abbatiat souvent par droit héréditaire, en gardant la disposition du patrimonie

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13.

14.

15. 16.

17.

18.

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familial. Placées sous le contrôl royal, elles peuvent aussi se libérer de l’emprise familiale, gagner auprès du roi des droits seigneuriaux, mener une carrière politique. La femme saxonne ne s’enterre pas au monastère, elle s’y instruit, s’y forme et y garde ses prérogatives, de femme libre et noble.” Parisse, “Les Femmes,” p. 324. Parisse, “Les Chanoinesses dans l’empire germanique (IXe–XIe siècle),” Francia 6 (1978): 112, 120; McNamara, Sisters in Arms, p. 178; Huth, “Die Düsseldorfer,” p. 283. Parisse, “Les Femmes,” pp. 319–20; McNamara, Sisters in Arms, p. 179; Ulrich, “Die Düsseldorfer,” p. 185; and Raymund Kottje, “Claustra sine armario? Zum Unterschied von Kloster und Stift im Mittelalter,” in Conuetudines monasticae: Eine Festgabe für K. Hallinger, ed. Joachim F. Angerer (Rome: Editrice Anselmiana, 1982), pp. 139–40. The abbess of the Stift did, however, assume a permanent vow of chastity. Schneider, Essen, p. 18. For an overview of canonesses’ communities, see Sister Mary Pia Heinrich, The Canonesses and Education in the Early Middle Ages (Washington, D.C.: Catholic University of America Press, 1924). Donald Hochstetler, “The Meaning of Monastic Cloister for Women according to Caesarius of Arles,” in Religion, Culture, and Society in the Early Middle Ages: Studies in Honor of Richard E. Sullivan, ed. John J. Contreni and Thomas F. X. Noble (Kalamazoo, Mich.: Medieval Institute Publications, 1987), p. 27, also provides a description of the ideal female cloister according to bishop Caesarius of Arles (ca. 470–542), whose ideas would have still commanded respect among Carolingian reformers. Suzanne Fonay Wemple, Women in Frankish Society: Marriage and the Cloister, 500 to 900 (Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press, 1981), p. 187. McNamara, Sisters in Arms, p. 169. Not least among Wemple’s and McNamara’s enthusiasts is Gerda Lerner, whose work has internalized many of their assumptions, as seen in her discussion of the stifling effect that women’s historically isolated intellectual environment had on the building of a feminist consciousness. See Gerda Lerner, The Creation of Feminist Consciousness: From the Middle Ages to Eighteen-Seventy (New York: Oxford University Press, 1993), p. 249. John J. Contreni, “The Carolingian Renaissance: Education and Literary Culture,” in The New Cambridge Medieval History, vol. 2 (700–900), ed. Rosamond McKitterick (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1995), pp. 718–19; Rosamond McKitterick, The Carolingians and the Written Word (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1989), p. 226; and Janet Nelson, “Gender and Genre in Women Historians of the Early Middle Ages,” in L’Historiographie médiévale en Europe: Actes du colloque organisé par la Fondation Européenne de la Science au Centre de Recherches Historiques et Juridiques de l’Université Paris I du 29 mars au ler avril 1989, ed. Jean-Philippe Genet (Paris: Centre National de la Recherche Scientifique, 1989), p. 163. These potential accomplishments are all the more striking when one remembers that women could not become priests, preachers, or bishops, whose teaching duties were often quite public. One suspects, then, that in the face of this systemic barrier to further education, female learning was more private and therefore more hidden from us. Just as he foresaw the overall importance of Düss B.3 to a clearer understanding of Carolingian religious women’s education, Bernhard Bischoff also noted as early as 1965 the probable female audience of this manuscript: “Nach ihrem sehr eigenartig zusammengesetzten Inhalt, der u. a. Schriften Alkuins, Auszüge aus biblischen

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19.

20.

21. 22. 23.

Büchern, die Lebensbeschreibungen der hl. Eufrosina und der hl. Marina, die Hymnen der kanonischen Tageszeiten und die Cantica umfaßt, muß sie für den persönlichen Gebrauch einer dem Hof nahestehenden Persönlichkeit, wahrscheinlich einer Frau, hergestellt worden sein.” See Bernhard Bischoff, “Die karolingische Minuskel (Kat. Nr. 365–385a),” in Karl der Grosse: Werk und Wirkung (Die Ausstellung), ed. Heinrich Lübke (Düsseldorf: Schwann, 1965), pp. 210–11. The manuscript’s rather unique “a-b” script style also lends potential support to its “female” character; T. A. M. Bishop contended that the a-b scribes were likely women who may have migrated eastward from Corbie as a result of Louis the Pious’s monastic reforms—an exciting proposition, considering the eventual home of Düss B.3 at Essen. See T. A. M. Bishop, “The Scribes of the Corbie a-b,” in Charlemagne’s Heir: New Perspectives on the Reign of Louis the Pious (814–840), ed. Peter Godman and Roger Collins (Oxford: Clarendon, 1990), p. 535. On the placing and dating of a-b, see David Ganz, “The Liber Glossarum: A Carolingian Encyclopedia,” in Science in Western and Eastern Civilisation in Carolingian Times, ed. Paul Leo Butzer and Dietrich Lohrmann (Basel: Birkhäuser, 1993), pp. 129–31. Düsseldorf, Landes- und Universitätsbibliothek Sakramentarhandschrift D.1; and Libri confraternitatum Sancti Galli, Augiensis, Fabariensis, ed. Paul Piper (Berlin: Monumenta Germanica Historica, 1983; orig. ed., 1884), respectively. The relevant names from Essen appear in the latter on pp. 97–98, cols. 322–26. Josef Semmler, “Ein karolingisches Meßbuch der Universitätsbibliothek Düsseldorf als Geschichtsquelle,” in Das Buch in Mittelalter und Renaissance, ed. R. Hiestand (Düsseldorf, 1992), p. 38; Woldemar Harleß, “Die ältesten Nekrologen und Namensverzeichnisse des Stifts Essen,” Archiv für Geschichte des Niederrheins 6 (1867): 70. The entry also informs us that the two women were both at Essen during Gerswith II’s abbacy (864–878), enabling us to posit that Düss B.3 likely arrived at Essen as early as the mid-860s. For a concise listing of Essen’s abbesses, see Birgit Beese, “Heilige Äbtissinnen, liebeskranke Stiftsdamen und sächsische Jungfrauen: Die Rezeption Essener Äbtissinnen des Mittelalters in der Geschichts- und Heimatforschung,” in Vergessene Frauen an der Ruhr: Von Herrscherinnen und Hörigen, Hausfrauen und Hexen, 800–1800, ed. Bea Lundt (Cologne: Böhlau, 1992), p. 273, n. 2. Giles Constable, “Review Article: The Liber Memorialis of Remiremont,” Speculum 47 (1972): 261, 277. Mayke de Jong, “Carolingian Monasticism: The Power of Prayer,” in The New Cambridge Medieval History, vol. 2 (700–900), p. 649. Düss B.3 has received attention in several paleographical surveys, including E. A. Lowe, Codices Latini Antiquores: A Paleographical Guide to Latin Manuscripts Prior to the Ninth Century, 11 vols. and supplement (Oxford: Clarendon, 1934–1972), VIII: 45 (Nr. 1183); Gerhard Karpp, “Bemerkungen zu den mittelalterlichen Handschriften des adligen Damenstiftes in Essen (9–19. Jahrhundert),” Scriptorium 45 (1991): 173; Günter Gattermann, Handschriftencensus Rheinland: Erfassung mittelalterlicher Handschriften im rheinischen Landesteil von Nordrhein-Westfalen mit einem Inventur (Wiesbaden: Ludwig Reichert, 1993), p. 20; and Theodore Joseph Lacomblet, Katalog der Handschriften der

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königlichen Landesbibliothek zu Düsseldorf (Düsseldorf, 1850), B.1. For a more detailed consideration of its special script style, see David Ganz, Corbie in the Carolingian Renaissance (Sigmaringen: Jan Thorbecke, 1990), p. 48; and Bernhard Bischoff, Latin Palaeography: Antiquity and the Middle Ages, trans. Dáibhi Ó Cróinín and David Ganz (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1990), pp. 25–26, 106. 24. Beryl Smalley, The Study of the Bible in the Middle Ages (New York: Philosophical Library, 1952), p. xiv. See also John Contreni, “Carolingian Biblical Studies,” in Carolingian Essays: Andrew W. Mellon Lectures in Early Christian Studies, ed. Uta-Renate Blumenthal (Washington, D.C.: Catholic University of America Press, 1983), pp. 79–80; and E. Ann Matter, “Exegesis and Christian Education: The Carolingian Model,” in Schools of Thought in the Christian Tradition, ed. Patrick Henry (Philadelphia: Fortress, 1984), p. 92. 25. For a more specific treatment of this gendered exegesis, see Steven A. Stofferahn, “Changing Views of Carolingian Women’s Literary Culture: The Evidence from Essen,” Early Medieval Europe 8 (1999): 69–97. On the practice and analysis of medieval biblical exegesis in general, see Henri de Lubac, Exégèse médiévale: Les quatre sens de l’écriture (Paris: Aubier, 1959–1964). 26. A sentiment echoed in Paul Dutton’s reflections on the Carolingian-inspired accomplishments of the late-ninth-century Saxon poet. See Paul Edward Dutton, ed., Carolingian Civilization: A Reader (Peterborough, Ontario: Broadview, 1993), p. 501.

A SCHOOLGIRL AND MISTRESS FELHIN: A DEVOUT PETITION FROM NINTH-CENTURY SAXONY Domina magistra Felhin, date mihi licenciam in hac nocte vigilare cum magistra Adalu, et ego vobis ambabus manibus confirmo atque iuro, ut per totam noctem declinare volo aut legere aut pro seniore nostro cantare. Valete et, ut peto, facite. Valete in domino.1 TRANSLATION BY STEVEN A. STOFFERAHN Mistress Felhin, give me leave to keep vigil this night with lady Adalu, and I affirm and swear to you with both hands that I shall not cease either reading or singing on our Lord’s behalf the whole night through. Farewell, and do as I ask. Farewell in the Lord.

1 Düsseldorf, Landes- und Universitätsbibliothek Sammelhandschrift B.3, fol. 305v. Suggestions for a few passages of the transcription (but not translation) come from Bernhard Bischoff, “Die liturgische Musik und das Bildungswesen im frühmittelalterlichen Stift Essen,” Annalen des Historischen Vereins für den Niederrhein 157 (1955): 194. The last sentence (rendered here in italics) appears in a different hand—perhaps Felhin’s?

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BIBLIOGRAPHY Primary Sources Düsseldorf, Landes- und Universitätsbibliothek Sammelhandschrift B.3. Lacomblet, Theodore Joseph. Urkundenbuch für die Geschichte des Niederrheins. Aalen: Scientia, 1966. Piper, Paul, ed. Libri confraternitatum Sancti Galli, Augiensis, Fabariensis. Berlin: Monumenta Germanica Historica, 1983.

Secondary Works Beese, Birgit. “Heilige Äbtissinnen, liebeskranke Stiftsdamen und sächsische Jungfrauen: Die Rezeption Essener Äbtissinnen des Mittelalters in der Geschichts- und Heimatforschung.” In Vergessene Frauen an der Ruhr: Von Herrscherinnen und Hörigen, Hausfrauen und Hexen, 800–1800, edited by Bea Lundt. Cologne: Böhlau, 1992. Bettecken, Winfried. Stift und Stadt Essen: “Coenobium Astnide” und Siedlungsentwicklung bis 1244. Münster: Aschendorff, 1988. Bischoff, Bernhard. “Die karolingische Minuskel (Kat. Nr. 365–385a).” In Karl der Grosse: Werk und Wirkung (Die Ausstellung), edited by Heinrich Lübke. Düsseldorf: Schwann, 1965. Bishop, T. A. M. “The Scribes of the Corbie a-b.” In Charlemagne’s Heir: New Perspectives on the Reign of Louis the Pious (814–840), edited by Peter Godman and Roger Collins. Oxford: Clarendon, 1990. Braun, Ute. “Hochadlige Frauen des kaiserlichfreiweltlichen Damenstifts Essen: Neue Fragestellungen.” In Vergessene Frauen an der Ruhr: Von Herrscherinnen und Hörigen, Hausfrauen und Hexen, 800–1800, edited by Bea Lundt. Cologne: Böhlau, 1992. Contreni, John J. “The Carolingian Renaissance: Education and Literary Culture.” In The New Cambridge Medieval History. Vol. 2 (700–900), edited by Rosamond McKitterick. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1995. Dhuoda. Manuel pour mon fils. Edited by Pierre Riché, translated by Bernard de Vregille and Claude Mondésert. Sources chrétiennes 225. Paris: Éditions du Cerf, 1975. Ganz, David. Corbie in the Carolingian Renaissance. Sigmaringen: Jan Thorbecke, 1990. Goetting, Hans. Das Bistum Hildesheim: Die Hildesheimer Bischöfe von 815 bis 1221 (1227). Vol. 20. Germania Sacra. Berlin: Walter de Gruyter, 1984. Harleß, Woldemar. “Die ältesten Nekrologen und Namensverzeichnisse des Stifts Essen.” Archiv für Geschichte des Niederrheins 6 (1867): 63–84. Heinrich, Sister Mary Pia. The Canonesses and Education in the Early Middle Ages. Washington, D.C.: Catholic University of America Press, 1924. Huth, Volkhard. “Die Düsseldorfer Sakramentarhandschrift D.1 als Memorialzeugnis: Mit einer Wiedergabe der Namen und Namengruppen.” Frühmittelalterliche Studien 20 (1986): 213–98. de Jong, Mayke. “Carolingian Monasticism: The Power of Prayer.” In The New Cambridge Medieval History. Vol. 2 (700–900), edited by Rosamond McKitterick. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1995. Karpp, Gerhard. “Bemerkungen zu den mittelalterlichen Handschriften des adligen Damenstiftes in Essen (9.–19. Jahrhundert).” Scriptorium 45 (1991): 162–204.

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Kottje, Raymund. “Claustra sine armario? Zum Unterschied von Kloster und Stift im Mittelalter.” In Conuetudines monasticae: Eine Festgabe für K. Hallinger, edited by Joachim F. Angerer. Rome: Editrice Anselmiana, 1982. Lacomblet, Theodore Joseph. Katalog der Handschriften der königlichen Landesbibliothek zu Düsseldorf. Düsseldorf, 1850. Lowe, E. A. Codices Latini Antiquores: A Paleographical Guide to Latin Manuscripts Prior to the Ninth Century. 11 vols. and supplement. Oxford: Clarendon, 1934–1972. de Lubac, Henri. Exégèse médiévale: Les quatre sens de l’écriture. Paris: Aubier, 1959–1964. Matter, E. Ann. “Exegesis and Christian Education: The Carolingian Model.” In Schools of Thought in the Christian Tradition, edited by Patrick Henry. Philadelphia: Fortress, 1984. McKitterick, Rosamond. “Women and Literacy in the Early Middle Ages.” In Books, Scribes and Learning in the Frankish Kingdoms, 6th–9th Centuries, edited by Rosamond McKitterick, 13. Aldershot, U.K.: Variorum, 1994. McNamara, Jo Ann. Sisters in Arms: Catholic Nuns through two Millennia. Cambridge, Mass.: Harvard University Press, 1996. Nelson, Janet. “Gender and Genre in Women Historians of the Early Middle Ages.” In L’Historiographie médiévale en Europe: Actes du colloque organisé par la Fondation Européenne de la Science au Centre de Recherches Historiques et Juridiques de l’Université Paris I du 29 mars au l er avril 1989, edited by Jean-Philippe Genet. Paris: Centre National de la Recherche Scientifique, 1989. ———. “Women and the Word in the Earlier Middle Ages.” Studies in Church History 27 (1990): 53–78. Parisse, Michel. “Les Chanoinesses dans l’empire germanique (IXe–XIe siècle).” Francia 6 (1978): 107–27. Pothmann, Alfred. Altfrid: Bischof und Staatsmann. Mülheim a. d. Ruhr: Hoppe and Werry, 1974. Smalley, Beryl. The Study of the Bible in the Middle Ages. New York: Philosophical Library, 1952. Stofferahn, Steven A. “Changing Views of Carolingian Women’s Literary Culture: The Evidence from Essen.” Early Medieval Europe 8 (1998): 69–97. Ulrich, Anna. “Die Kanonissen: Ein vergangener und vergessener Stand der Kirche.” In Liturgie und Frauenfrage: Ein Beitrag zur Frauenforschung aus liturgiewissenschaftlicher Sicht, edited by Teresa Berger and Albert Gerhard. St. Ottilien: EOS, 1990. Wemple, Suzanne Fonay. Women in Frankish Society: Marriage and the Cloister, 500 to 900. Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press, 1981. Wisplinghoff, Erich. “Untersuchungen zur frühen Geschichte von Stift und Stadt Essen.” Beiträge zur Geschichte von Stadt und Stift Essen 103 (1989): 53–67.

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Hrotsvit’s Callimachus and the Art of Comedy1 Mark Damen

Even without external corroborating evidence, we may infer from her works that the nun Hrotsvit lived in Saxony during the second half of the tenth century.2 Because she seems to have had considerable freedom of movement and expression for a woman at that time, writing about worldly affairs evidently with some personal knowledge of them, she was most likely a canoness, that is, not fully cloistered. She must have visited the courts of the Saxon kings, probably more than once, since she chronicles their exploits and composes poetry of a type briefly popularized by a scholar in residence there.3 Her family, therefore, belonged in all probability to the aristocracy. At the same time, women’s issues permeate her works, which combine, with remarkable confidence and intelligence, an astoundingly modern outlook with a variety of ancient and medieval rhetorical strategies. That she composed plays, whether to be produced on stage or not, demonstrates furthermore an unusually close familiarity with the classical dramatic tradition and attests to a high level of erudition for anyone, much less a woman in her day. All in all, she is clearly one of the finest writers, indeed minds, of the Ottonian resurgence. Despite their clear importance, however, Hrotsvit’s works have not seen full justice either then or now. Her stagecraft, for instance, has been dismissed as simplistic and unrealizable.4 Not unlike Seneca and his strange and challenging baroque tragedies, which are currently experiencing their own minor revival of interest, rarely have her plays until very recently received fair treatment from the academic and theater communities. As theater historians over the last century have broadened their horizons in general and opened their minds to nontraditional types of theater, they have come to recognize that some good drama does not fit into the prescribed Western modes. Looking now at Hrotsvit’s dramas in this, if 37

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not more objective, less objecting light, and not judging her for what she never tried to be, we find in her plays effective, performable, and yes, even comic scripts suitable for theater production in this or any day. The translation below constitutes an attempt to give Hrotsvit some of her due, in this case, a fair showing on stage. Beginning with the supposition that she wrote her plays for production, not mere recitation, I set about seeking a means by which to stage her comedies effectively.5 Of course, underlying all effective drama is a concept guiding the thought and premise of the play. It is the first thing to look for in presenting a drama. To me, one concept stands out in Hrotsvit’s plays, namely, the notion that women have the right and power to control their lives, their bodies, and their souls. Again and again, Hrotsvit seems to me to be saying that both genders are fully responsible for their own morality, and, if in the presence of women men feel a temptation to sin or to harm their or others’ souls, it is not women who are to blame. By choosing chastity, a woman demonstrates that she is responsible for her own spiritual well-being and that she can achieve eternal fulfillment equal to any man’s, even in some ways surpassing men’s insofar as a woman may become the chaste “bride” of Christ, a notion Hrotsvit reiterates often and ardently in the language of sexual delight. This theme, the glorification of female sexuality (and its corollary, the deprecation of male sexuality), emerged as the principal concept guiding our theatrical production of Callimachus, because not only is it clearly there but also because it makes for an eminently playable concept today, one that strikes a fundamental chord and resonates in the very heart of modern life. The challenges facing those producing Hrotsvit’s plays arise not so much from the concept but from the details of its realization. Without any real information on theater in the day, nor any real understanding even of why a medieval, Saxon woman would choose to effect her ideas through drama rather than in a more conventional genre of the day, one can only speculate about how Hrotsvit meant to dispose her plays on stage. But informed speculation is crucial, since in lieu of other evidence it is our best means for uncovering why her plays take the form they do and how they might have succeeded as theater in her day. For that reason the creative team producing this translation decided to try to revive her drama as realistically as was possible (and feasible for our theater) in the hope that production might reveal hidden dramatic mechanisms and underscore themes overlooked in the mere reading of her plays. Yet, how does one begin even to speculate in such a dearth of evidence? Because I am a classicist specializing in ancient comedy, my training and instincts drew my attention initially to the classical elements in Hrotsvit’s plays. At first glance there seem to be very, very few. Though she claims that she is reconstituting Terentian comedy so as to “count the praises due to holy women, the innocence of virgins,” on the surface her plays look remarkably un-Terentian. Superficially, there is little of the disguising, misunderstanding, humorously mis-

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directed lecturing and gentle satirizing of human life that distinguishes Terence’s comedies. In particular, the farcical pot-kissing scene of Dulcitius struck me at first as too broad for Terence’s tastes (though the pimp-beating scene in Adelphoe might be seen as a distant kin), while Hrotsvit’s seemingly overt sermonizing without benefit of latent irony does not fit his style either. But at the same time I was struck by one immensely Terentian element in Hrotsvit’s work: her language.6 On first encountering her Latin, it seemed to me almost as if Terence had in her mind been reduced beyond his dramatic style, beyond his ideas, down to his very atoms, his words stripped of everything but syntax and their primordial glossary sense. And Hrotsvit would not be alone, not even pathbreaking, in doing this. Only a century after Terence’s life, Julius Caesar himself in praising Terence’s sermo purus (“pure dialogue”) inaugurated a tradition of directing attention away from the Menandrean humanism that was surely of central importance to Terence and toward the playwright’s perfection of Latin as a means of conveying natural-sounding poetic language. Thus, Hrotsvit’s work is part of a long tradition of admiring and emulating the smoothness of Terence’s discourse without copying it directly or translating its themes. If she ended up subverting his message, which surely seemed too worldly and seductive to her, and wholly recreating his drama for her own purposes, it is still an act of homage Terence, I dare say, would have appreciated far more than Caesar’s patronizing laudatio, which is, no doubt, in reality little more than unctuous, badly concealed self-congratulations on his own Latin style. It is obvious that Hrotsvit honestly admires Terence’s natural-sounding Latin and is paying him honest tribute in her own way. Still, one aspect of Terence’s plays clearly did not attract Hrotsvit: his brand of comedy. If we can take at face value her own words prefacing the plays, it repulsed her, in fact. Yet her public displays of revulsion at Terence’s scandalous portrayal of sinful women also smack of protesting too much, and it may be that they are in part a ploy to justify writing the plays and focusing on women’s issues.7 They could also have served as an end-run of sorts designed to preclude any accusation of public debauchery on her part while simultaneously opening the way for her to turn the tables on men and condemn them for their sexual misconduct. It is notable indeed that for all their patent sanctimony her plays still present many possibilities for presenting effective comedy on stage. The foibles of the male characters in Dulcitius especially, their folly in the face of God’s overwhelming truth, paint them as classic comic villains bent perversely on their own destruction. In that respect the type of comedy she uses is really more Plautine than Terentian. For instance, the pot-kissing scene noted above is a close relative of the male-bride scene at the end of Plautus’s Casina, a farce in which a lustful old man ends up in bed with an unexpected (male) partner. Dulcitius himself recalls the comically villainous pimp Labrax of Plautus’s Rudens who also tries to abduct maidens and is beaten for his misdeeds. Overall, the shades Hrotsvit uses to outline the characters are more black and white than gray and her humor

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depends mainly on swift action, cunning language, characters played as types, and openly rhetorical postures that undercut naturalism, all of which is to say more Plautine than Terentian. Moreover, that Hrotsvit uses in Dulcitius a word distinctively Plautine (conquinisco) and other expressions peculiar to Plautine idiom (papae, expressing delight [OLD.c]; miris modis omnes illudimur) suggests she may have had some sort of access to the other great Roman comic poet’s plays, too.8 After all, she did have direct access to Terence. It is no surprise either that she does not mention this. Plautus’s plays are more openly salacious and there is no point in criticizing something so obviously corrupt; Terence’s plays, however, may appear more moral but because of that they are, in fact, more dangerous and thus also more worthy of opposition. All in all, what looks like a Plautine spirit reorchestrated to conform to Christian values—an incredible supposition, but Hrotsvit carries it off!—pervades her drama. Of course, her contact with Plautus need not have been direct. The familiarity of the early church fathers with Plautus and later antiquity’s appreciation of his rich vocabulary may have given her a taste for his type of comedy, albeit second or even third hand. But even if indirect, with this I felt I had sufficient sanction to look for opportunities to exploit comic possibilities in the plays as I would if I were translating Plautus.9 At the same time I began to explore what Hrotsvit might have known about theater beyond the ancient texts. Several things presented themselves immediately, things that however alien they may seem to us today were givens concerning the theater in antiquity. First, the performers of all serious ancient drama were men. Hrotsvit could have followed that tradition by having upper-class Saxon men perform the plays, but what men and where? For convenience and knowing the plays focus on women’s issues, I felt it was much more likely she wrote the plays to be performed by women, most likely those in her convent.10 Any open area in the convent would serve since the plots of her plays demand and employ little or no setting.11 This substitution of women for men in traditional roles accords well with one theme of Hrotsvit’s plays, namely, women’s usurpation of virtues usually reserved for men in Christian writing. In accordance with this, the director and I decided to cast the plays with only female performers. These actresses were then assigned to “create” realistic Saxon nun-characters, women who might have lived at Gandersheim in the second half of the tenth century and acted in Hrotsvit’s plays. Names, birthdates, provenances, livelihoods, and all important personal information were to be generated from real or realistic details of women’s lives back then. Not only did these nuncharacters give the production an underlying feeling of realism and, as we expected, turn out to be useful in communicating to the actresses the nature of women’s lives and the social milieu of convents in Hrotsvit’s time, the nuncharacters also gave them a subtext to work with as modern performers are trained to look for. On the whole, the employment of female performers alone

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worked very well in both driving home the concept and generating comedy in a way a mixed-gender cast would not have. The issue of mixed-gender casts raises a second point concerning Hrotsvit’s potential knowledge of ancient theater. Classical drama did not by any means dominate the stage in classical times. Games, spectacles, and, above all, mime, the bawdy skits so harshly condemned by the Christian fathers, commanded the Roman public’s attention. Even in Hrotsvit’s day it is not clear that classical mime had been fully extinguished. Medieval injunctions against mime-players attest to its preservation in some form or other, though little else. How often mimi performed, especially before aristocrats, is impossible to say with certainty, but as a highly literate woman who traveled outside the convent Hrotsvit surely encountered those who had seen mimes, even if she never had seen them herself.12 The general nature of mime in her day is also impossible to determine, as it is in antiquity, too. But if the few ancient mimes that have been recovered on papyrus reflect the genre at all, it is safe to say that they were considerably shorter in length than traditional drama.13 Curiously, most plays by Hrotsvit are much briefer than any play by Terence, some running well under an hour. Scenes are also generally much shorter and scene changes more abrupt than in classical comedies. Besides that, ancient mimes such as the Oxyrhynchos Mime and the anonymous vaudeville entitled Charition contain apparent gaps in the dialogue that are designed to be supplemented by silent stage action.14 There is room for a similar sort of dumbshow at the top of Scene 3 of Callimachus.15 Whether or not all this can be attributed to the influence of mime, Hrotsvit has a notion of plot design that is quite foreign to ancient comedy and, if she is reconstituting Terence as she claims, deliberately nonclassical. But why this sort of anti-Terentianism? The longer scenes in Terence afford him the chance to play up intellectual values and discourse philosophically. Why would Hrotsvit wish to deviate from him in that of all respects, a facet of his plays that should attract her? There must be some more compelling reason for her rapid editing. It is always possible that the brevity of the scenes stems from a failure of invention, or so I quietly suspected until I saw one of the suspiciously aborted scenes performed in rehearsal. In the first confrontation between John and Andronicus in Callimachus, Andronicus’s rapid evolution from gloom to glee seemed unrealistic and his absurdly dismissive “I’ll tell you about Drusiana’s death later” speech read on paper as laughably bad. But when performed, the scene came to life radiant with comedy. Andronicus’s maelstrom of emotions is part of his general overreaction to events, one facet of his role as John’s comic sidekick. The scene’s premature demise also works perfectly well on stage for several reasons: it saves the exposition of Drusiana’s death until later when it can be used comically in the tomb scene, it cuts to Fortunatus immediately after he is first mentioned, and it reinforces further Andronicus’s emotional instability and shows John’s patience, which will be sorely tested over the course of the play.

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Overall, in thirteen brief exchanges of speech our audiences laughed as many as four times, a frequency Neil Simon would envy. Hrotsvit cannot have learned this dramatic technique from Terence or any classical playwright, none of whom edits stage action in this way. It is really more cinematic than dramatic, evidenced in playwriting with regularity only after screenwriting began to influence stageworks. If she did not invent this sort of plot design, from where did she derive it? It is possible an alternate dramatic model that included a different type of scenic structure from Terence’s, some other form of nonclassical, perhaps popular entertainment, has shaped her theatrical sensibilities. If so, the swift turnover of scenes is a concession to vulgar taste and performance values in her day and adds greatly to the argument that the plays were written to be performed. Whatever the truth, faster changes of scenes with less time given to rumination on intellectual issues fit aptly with what we know of mime, which may then have exerted some influence on her drama, however indirectly. Another non-Terentian aspect of her plays supports the assumption that Hrotsvit had contact with more forms of ancient drama than Terence alone. One “character” in Callimachus is designated as plural, the Amici (“Friends”).16 No such “plural character” exists in Terence. After the fifth century B.C.E., Greek choruses were generally restricted to tragedy, probably more for financial than artistic reasons. While Hrotsvit may have seen in Seneca the use of a chorus as a dramatic character or heard about it from Horace, she can have gotten from them little more than the notion that a plural character exists because she does not use plural characters the way Seneca does or Horace suggests, that is, as a group of people who reflect on the story at intervals in the action.17 Her plural character in Callimachus acts like a true character. The “Friends” participate in the action and are no mere onlookers. Like other characters, they enter and exit, speak in dialogue, care about issues, argue, debate, and so on. They are as normal as any other character in the play, except that they are plural. This is not unprecedented in ancient comedy. Aristophanes’ choruses participate sometimes quite actively in their plays, but it seems unlikely that Hrotsvit had access to his drama and, even if she did, that she would have used them in her own. If Terence disgusted her, what must Aristophanes have done? Plautus again may provide the key. At least twice he uses plural characters, the Fishermen in Act II of Rudens and the Advocates in Act III of Poenulus. In contrast to the traditional chorus, these plural characters act like real characters, just as Hrotsvit’s do. Though a rare phenomenon in Plautus, they may have appealed to Hrotsvit, who lived in a community that, in fact, acted much like a plural character. The women living at Gandersheim dressed alike and spoke often in unison. But when presented in a comedy, a plural character’s uniformity in opposition to its innate plurality clearly emerges as humorous—if that weren’t true, Plautus would surely not have put plural characters in his plays!—so, by including such a character in

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Callimachus, Hrotsvit may be laughing gently at herself and her lifestyle a little. Whether or not the idea of introducing a plural character into her play was derived from Plautus, Hrotsvit’s subtle self-mockery here would be Terentian, at least. So intentional it seemed to me that, rather than break up the lines given to the plural characters among several performers as other translators have, I chose to take Hrotsvit at her word and assigned the lines to a group of performers who spoke and moved in concert. The effect not only magnified the sense of community fostered by the nun-performers in their nun-characters but also heightened the comedy. That is, when a single performer chooses an action, gesture, or intonation, the audience sees it as a spontaneous, natural choice and as a rule simply interprets its meaning in light of that character, though the performer almost always has made the choice carefully and purposefully. But if a group of performers acts in unison, the audience is reminded that every harmonious detail has been scripted. Constantly forcing the viewers to see that each motion or inflection has been studied, chosen, and practiced is a subtle and sophisticated way to play up the metatheater that lurks behind all theater, and in this case also serves to underscore the comical irrationality that women are portraying men. No matter what Hrotsvit’s inspiration was for this, Plautus would have applauded such selfconscious theatricality. It was a hallmark of his drama.18 The issue of Plautus raises another issue, namely, the mode in which both Hrotsvit’s and his plays are composed, an element that poses one of the greater challenges to the modern production of their work. Both call for a presentational style of performance. When seen as scripts, most ancient and medieval texts demand a mode of acting that is formal and rhetorical, the way most performance was before the modern age. Not so today, however, where we associate the strong sense of debate and public forum these plays require more often with law courts or television talk shows than with theater where naturalism for the most part reigns. Such overt litigiosity disallows the sense of a character’s internal functioning, the foundation on which almost all modern acting rests. That is, with everything “fronted,” there is no subtext. Much the same is true of many ancient tragedies and comedies, a factor that leads all too often to the pompous and enervated performances of classical drama so often seen today. Whereas the actresses countered the presentational nature of the acting with the creation of nun-characters giving their lines new, inner meaning, a subtext of sorts, I encountered an even greater challenge as translator. Modern audiences expect and look for character growth, how a character evolves or what a character learns during the course of the drama. One can, and many have, read Hrotsvit’s characters as flat or lacking any evolution. John in Callimachus, for example, can be seen as a holy apostle preaching the word of Christ with complete selfconfidence, unencumbered by human frailty and unperturbed by the mortal madness around him; all in all, what bad actors tend to make of Prospero. Such an interpretation of the character will engage few viewers. As I looked for ways to

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give the characters something to struggle with and strive for, I found that the language again and again suggested internal conflict. John, for instance, can be taken as undergoing a spiritual crisis over the course of the play. At first we see him content in his faith, lecturing in a calm, even somewhat bemused fashion to the temperamental Andronicus. But then when God appears and tells him about the upcoming resurrections, he begins to wonder how and why this is all happening. He goes inside the tomb of Drusiana and literally revisits the resurrection of Christ three times, perhaps an oblique reflection of the three people who died at Christ’s crucifixion (Callimachus and Fortunatus can certainly be taken as intentionally analogous to the thieves). That John was not present at the first discovery of Christ’s ascension makes these resurrections all the more meaningful, for in this event God is clearly giving him a second (and third and fourth!) chance to see the primal event in Christian theology, just as other characters are given a second chance at life. And finally that John is the instrument through which the resurrections of Callimachus and Drusiana take place is clearly a test of his faith. To see the apostle’s function in the play as personifying the struggle to understand God more fully does nothing less than resurrect the play itself, from stiff and lifeless sermon to moving, growing drama. Once this sort of psychological strife and the potential for maturation were added to all the characters, they not only invigorated the drama but also enlivened the comedy.19 Indeed, comic moments began to appear everywhere. For instance, in Scene 8 of Callimachus, John enters first encouraging Andronicus to proceed to the tomb. Why does he have to encourage him? Andronicus left at the end of their last scene (5) eager to go to the tomb. Why isn’t he leading the way? Why isn’t John slowing him down instead of prodding him on? One way to see it is that Andronicus has already traveled quite far that day. He has gone from his abode to John’s (a hermit’s cave in the desert?) and who knows what before that. Now he is going with John to the tomb and is worn out with walking, a shtick well-used in ancient comedy.20 If so, John’s first speech gains new life on stage when it is seen in a contemporary setting as the gym teacher urging his aerobics student on. Andronicus’s response then—that it fits John’s holiness not to “forget” (i.e., leave behind) his followers—is given new life, too, now that it refers both to John’s sanctity and to his physical conditioning. Though there are many other examples of the way in which close analysis of the text and its application to performance enhances our understanding of the plays’ potential as comic theater, I will adumbrate only one more. Callimachus’s resurrection, which dominates the second half of his play, redounds in a rich parlance that seems to beg for performance to supplement it. It begins, for instance, with two, quite different speeches by John. The first is a lengthy invocation of God steeped in complex, philosophical locutions (incircumscriptus, incomprehensibilis) and annotated by metaphors of mathematics and body-soul relations (diversa duo socians, unum quod constabat resolvis). The second is quite differ-

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ent, a simple encomium of God. This latter speech ends quickly with a call for true confession. As if Hrotsvit is saying that sophisticated, academic language may shed some light but ultimately is bound to fail as all human endeavor is, Callimachus stirs after the first speech but does not fully revive. That is, science succeeds but only dimly. The second speech, a pure and heartfelt prayer, succeeds much better. The simple call for confession is clearly what moves God to action. Callimachus revives and confesses his sin. While it can be flattened out, the language leaves room for a more complex and dramatically interesting line of action. Callimachus almost immediately begins blaming Fortunatus, who was a party to the crime but, as the viewers have seen for themselves, not its instigator. Like President Nixon, Callimachus accepts responsibility publicly but tries to shift the real blame onto someone else. Whining does not constitute a true confession, and so John reprimands him and demands a full accounting of what really happened. Callimachus dodges the question and indulges himself in reliving the whole event. All the while, John keeps trying to understand the ways of God, why it is He would work so hard to save so obvious a reprobate. He stands agape, uncertain what to do. Callimachus turns the tables on him and orders him to do his job, to end his suffering. He means, of course, for John to pronounce him purged of sin, but John suddenly stirs to action. Equally suddenly Callimachus’s phrases then pick up speed and urgency. Now he does not demand but rather begs for forgiveness and wails about his misery. This sequence also begs for some specific action motivating the changes in emotional direction. After some research and consideration and several failed alternatives, I came across something that might explain or, at least, could be used to animate the drama. In Paradiso 20.106–17 Dante recounts a legend of the resuscitation of the Roman emperor Trajan who, according to reports about Pope Gregory I, was brought back to life long enough to be baptized a Christian and then died again and was given entrance to heaven. The parallel to Callimachus’s situation was all too clear and I wondered if it did not in some way underlie Hrotsvit’s play. That Trajan was immediately returned to death upon being Christianized gave me the idea that John might think God’s work with Callimachus was done after his resurrection and, like Trajan, the sinner should be promptly restored to death in his newly purified state (especially in light of Callimachus’s apparently unabating predilection for carnal pleasures). But how would he dispatch him off to God? I gave John a sword, a symbol of the sword of God, which he could then be sharpening in his first scene when Andronicus comes to visit him and that would not only identify him immediately as a figure of authority but also set up the sword for the resuscitation scene later. Also, it seemed a safe bet that Gandersheim housed a number of swords and so Hrotsvit would have had one at hand for the play. When I tried that, Callimachus’s sudden descent into fervent prayer suddenly made sense, as did his line, “And I honestly hope you will cut me in two and unveil 冷 My entrails, my body’s rotting crypt” (O utinam reserarentur

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secreta 冷 meorum viscerum latibula). Once the sword entered the picture, it opened the way for several other lazzi and highlighted other moments comically. Finally, I should outline the approach I took to Hrotsvit’s prosody and language. First, the meter. Hrotsvit’s verses are really more modern than classical in form. They do not rely on length of syllable like Vergil’s or Horace’s poetry, but on rhyme. Nor are they a true “meter,” in that they do not “measure” or count anything. They serve largely to mark the end of a thought with a closing rhyme, as Odgen Nash’s poetry does. They can be a single word or run across a stream of ideas and several interchanges of dialogue. Since they punctuate Hrotsvit’s text throughout, which shows their importance to her in demarcating the thoughtrhythms of the script, I felt I had no choice but to maintain them as verses in my translation. But her rhyming would have proven tedious both to create and to listen to and would not have achieved the same effect at all. Rhyme in Latin is far easier to generate, insofar as Latin words tend to end alike due to inflectional patterns. Most classical authors, in fact, avoid it because it is too easy and produces jingles, to them silly-sounding doggerel. Almost the opposite is true of English, where the number of possible rhymes is much lower and it takes more work to produce consistently rhymed verses that flow well. Overall, it would have been more of an accomplishment to include regular rhymes, but it would also have called undue attention to itself. To me what Hrotsvit was after in her rhymed prose couplets was not rhyme per se but a sense of poetry, a mode of diction elevated above common speech with comprehensible but not predictable patterns. In pursuing the same, I resorted to standard English poetic meter measured by stresses and, as Hrotsvit had done, lacking any predictable pattern. To the Christian characters I gave stronger, more forceful metrical phrases, on/off rhythms (-v, v-) such as iambs and trochees, and to pagans weaker, more seductive and melodious triadic schemes (-vv, vv-, -vv-) such as dactyls, anapests, and choriambs. This reflected the crisper, more assertive phrases and sounds Hrotsvit put in the Christian characters’ mouths and the more errant siren songs of her heathen devils. It also provided the opportunity to let each side mock and taunt the other by using their opponent’s rhythms, as characters in Hrotsvit will borrow phrases from the other side and twist them. Fortunatus, for instance, when showing Drusiana’s body to Callimachus for the first time, says: Ecce corpus! (“Behold the body!”). The misuse of St. Paul’s Ecce homo! is clear, pointed, and almost certainly intentional. Fortunatus is in other ways an anti-Paul, an apostle of perversion and lust. To this character I gave his own special rhythm (-冷-vv-), a form redolent of dochmiacs, which are used in Greek tragedy mainly in scenes of high emotion and panic. I thought its eerie, off-kilter beat would project Fortunatus’s villainy well. To enhance the effect, I gave him a dialect, too, so that his unscrupulous character would be immediately apparent to modern viewers. So quickly does he come and go—he is dead the first time after speaking only seven times!—

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I felt I had to use something the modern audience recognized instantly as evil, in the same way Hrotsvit, no doubt, is playing on a type of scoundrel well known to her viewers as well. Still, no matter how good translations are, they must inevitably lose some of the original’s power and nuance. Translators cannot help but drop some of the original’s thoughts and ideas, especially those that do not transport well into a new day and cultural context. At the same time, all translators introduce new ideas into the original text whether they mean to or not because the new language by its nature suggests things foreign to the original language. This does not mean we should give up on perfecting translations, but simply accept that translation requires a sense of artistry, which respects its own imperfections, and that we should struggle instead for a higher truth if smaller truths by necessity elude our grasp. The saving grace is that it is sometimes truer to the original author’s purpose to aim at what one sees as her or his point rather than the actual expression of that point. This innate problem in translation is only exacerbated when translating for the stage. Stage translators, especially of comedy, must do more than satisfy a solitary, reading public. They must make the original appear to “work” in a very dramatic and commensurate sense. They must make an audience laugh or chuckle or sigh or sob, and their public knows immediately at all times how well the translation is working because viewers have the rest of the audience there to gauge the author’s success. Such a clear goal demands a clear approach. Here, verbatim translations that are “accurate” but manufacture formless, ineffective drivel constitute a twofold crime. They are neither practical nor precise. If the original author took some risks and in doing so generated an exciting, challenging script, the translator must, too. Where translators of comedy see jokes lurking or subtle shadings of character tucked into a turn of phrase, they must reflect them, especially when so much else is being lost on other fronts. While they cannot change the text substantially, they must play from nuances and hints within the original. It is a connect-the-dots art, yes, but the translator gets to “color within the lines.”21 In light of that, I must confess that my translation often strays from Hrotsvit’s superficial syntax. If you are looking for something that will help you follow the Latin as you translate it, keep looking. This is a translation designed to reflect and enhance Hrotsvit’s text as a theatrical script. For instance, in theater the order in which ideas are presented is of great importance. Try moving the words around in any of Shakespeare’s speeches and you will see what I mean. To say, for instance, “The question is one of existence or nonexistence” or “Man is such an awfully amazing artistic conception” would be to demolish Shakespeare in both language and thought. For one, the order of words often demonstrates the thought processes of a character and to change them is to create a new thought process and thus a new character, something translators should avoid as much as possible. So I have endeavored, though not always succeeded here, to recapture the word order of the original, and because Latin is a language that, more often

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than English, builds syntax into words—Latin style gravitates toward extended phrases and sentences weighted down in clauses and modifiers that can, because of Latin grammar, be moved more easily about the sentence than their modern Anglo-Saxon counterparts—I have frequently had to break Hrotsvit’s Latin up into smaller bits as is only natural for English, a truth that this ponderously Latinate sentence demonstrates, I hope. I have, however, never bent the language such that it does not to my mind recall the Latin in some way, and I would like to end this introduction by explicating a pair of the more radical choices I made. Whether I convince anyone of their rationality or not, I hope at least to shed some light on the difficulty of this task. First, at the very end of his first scene with John, Andronicus exhibits a peculiar turn of phrase. With his spirits now restored by John’s suggestion that they bury Drusiana in a tomb, he suggests that Fortunatus guard the body and refers to him as his “procurator” (procuratori). It is the last word in the speech, a common place for a comic author to situate a word intended to trigger a laugh, and it looked to me like a joke. Its obvious Roman implications suggest grandeur, though Fortunatus is little more than a bailiff, inspired perhaps by the standard “lusty bailiff” of ancient comedy (cf. Olympio in Plautus’s Casina). But unless the audience knows Fortunatus as the name of a standard comic character-type who is greedy and villainous, the joke will make little sense since he has not yet appeared on stage or been revealed as evil. The word procurator is there to explain why Andronicus chooses Fortunatus to watch over the tomb, so the joke might also rest on its explicative nature, a sort of “oh-that’s-right-you-don’tknow-him-do-you?” sense, in contrast to the Roman joke, which is based on the grand misuse of procurator. I chose to highlight the latter and rendered it, “He does my yard,” leaving the joke to rest on its sudden recurrence to Andronicus’s normal, boring daily life, just another of this character’s rapid shifts of focus and emotional level. And as such, it got a laugh at every performance. Second, Hrotsvit more than once in her dramas refers directly to the humor of the play, as if she is reminding the audience, in the midst of her serious message about Christian virtue and women’s role in holy life, that these are comedies. For example, in the second scene of Callimachus the Friends openly allude to making the title character laugh. While trying to prime the truth from him, they say, “So, tell us everything about your suffering! 冷 If it’s all that bad, then we will suffer it with you.” After that there is clearly a pause during which Callimachus says nothing. The Friends try again and, translated literally, say, “If not, we strive that your spirit be restored (revocari) by some lighthearted endeavor.” Although there is some textual difficulty here—it could read “to restore (revocare) your spirit from a worthless endeavor,” but they don’t know about his lust for Drusiana yet—the lectio difficilior (i.e., the version that is harder to understand at first) is the better reading and the more humorous one, by which I mean the former. The emotions in the scene also flow better if at this moment the Friends try to lighten

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the mood with a little joke but either cannot immediately recall one or never get a chance to say it because Callimachus interrupts their discursive musings with his abrupt confession of love in the next line. As I see it, it is more stageworthy to have them try to think up a joke and with these inane proceedings finally evoke from the frustrated Callimachus the confession their open request did not. That Hrotsvit recalls revocari later in the scene adds weight to this comical interpretation of the passage and allows for a recollection of the joke: “That’s not the joke that we were trying to remember.” That, at least, always got a laugh. There were far more jokes and humorous nuances in Hrotsvit that I must pass over, many I am sure I never saw, but in attempting to create a comic translation of Hrotsvit’s plays I hoped to bring out at least some of the delight and joy these plays gave me. If I have overstepped my bounds, please bear in mind that I have captured only a small percentage of the humor in these plays. My jokes, if indeed anyone takes them as mine, do little more than replace those of Hrotsvit’s that are missing in this translation because of their unsuitability to our day, the extreme constraints of time on stage, or my own incapacity to render them properly in English, at least those that I saw. Finally, much of what works dramatically in these translations I must ascribe to others, the editors of the texts I used (Homeyer and Winterfeld) and especially the cast and crew of the production, whose energy and dedication taught me more than I can say. With humble gratitude I list them here: Hrotsvit of Gandersheim . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .Tricia Burton 1. Callimachus . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .Sarah Jane Hardy 2. Friend/God . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .Mónica Leite 3. Friend/God . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .Amy Elison 4. Friend/God . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .Cameron Roberts 5. Andronicus . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .Sonja Stirling 6. John . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .Kindra Steenerson 7. Fortunatus . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .Arika Schockmel 8. Drusiana . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .Joslin Christensen Director: Mike Morelli Lighting Designer: Craig Brashears Sound Designer: Jeremy Moniz

Set Designer: Dave Maugham Stage Manager: Kyle Stein

Costume Designer and Props: Lonie Panhorst

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NOTES 1. 2. 3.

4.

5.

6.

7.

8.

This translation and parts of the introduction were first published in the Journal of the Rocky Mountain Medieval and Renaissance Association 18 (1997): 1–112. K. Wilson, Medieval Women Writers (Athens: University of Georgia Press 1984), pp. 30–32, reviews the evidence for Hrotsvit’s life and career. See K. Polheim, Die lateinische Reimprosa (Berlin: Weidmann 1925). P. Dronke, Women Writers of the Middle Ages (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1984), p. 56, discusses Rather, “the most widely-read scholar and most brilliant prose-writer of the age,” and concludes that Hrotsvit’s “longest and most complicated sentences, often filled with coinages and new formations as well as rhymes, have to me a markedly Ratherian ring.” Dronke, Women Writers, p. 55, notes “[i]t is considered scholarly to add that Hrotsvit’s could not have intended her own plays for performance—at most, for reading aloud at mealtimes in the convent refectory.” Though Wilson, Medieval Women, p. 40, argues against the staging of Hrotsvit’s plays in her day, others more recently, especially D. Wiles, “Hrosvitha of Gandersheim: The Performance of Her Plays in the Tenth Century,” Theatre History Studies 19 (1999): 133–50, have made a stronger case in favor of their performance. Dronke, Women Writers, p. 72, points to certain of Hrotsvit’s verbal “mannerisms and phrases” apparently lifted from Terence, such as pro Juppiter, ridiculum, eccam, and attat, and he goes on to note: “She . . . imitates certain techniques [found in Terence]: the use of rapid exchanges and repartee, or the device of bringing on characters in the first scene of a play to provide needed background information.” As I continued to explore the staging of her work and learned that it is possible to generate humor that is best seen on stage when her plays are performed, I came to see another feature of her drama she almost certainly borrowed from the Roman, namely, comedy driven by the exploitation of easily recognizable character types. Dronke, Women Writers, pp. 64–66, correctly notes the rhetorical strategies underlying Hrotsvit’s allusions to her weakness and frailty. She is, in fact, cagily defending her rights as an artist and her “determination, come what might, to compose,” and presumably also to air her work in public. Her protestations of Terence’s vulgarity are part and parcel of the same system of rhetorical ploys designed to justify her writing plays at all. See also P. Schroeder, “Hroswitha and the Feminization of Drama,” in Women in Theatre (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1989), pp. 49–51. Dronke, Women Writers, n. 57 (p. 297), suggests that Hrotsvit’s may have learned a Plautine word like conquinisco from later authors (Priscian or Julius Valerius) but goes on to admit that “much that regards the sources of her diction still awaits detailed investigation.” That she is using the word in a comic drama intimates that, whether or not she had laid eyes on the actual Plautus, she knew it as a word drawn from dramatic comedy. All in all, her incentive to employ a particular term must be held as at least as important in the assessment of her language as the

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9. 10.

11.

12.

13.

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source from which she drew it. The broadly comical context of Dulcitius, the most Plautine of her plays, hints that in using conquinisco she was aware of Plautus’s tendency to write in that particular mode. In the same vein, Wiles, “Hrosvitha,” p. 146, speaks of the “humour, intelligence, radicalism and dramaturgical sophistication of Hrosvitha.” Here I feel Case has a stronger argument than Wiles, “Hrosvitha,” pp. 134–35 and 139, who sees Hrotsvit as writing “not for her fellow nuns but on their behalf and as their representative,” thus concluding she “wrote for men quite as much as for women” and she “must have written the plays in prose dialogue for a male cast.” But if she were not producing the plays before men or in a general public arena, then Wiles’s objection that performance entails women “flaunting the body” has far less significance, certainly compared to so daring an enterprise as a woman venturing to write plays at all. Furthermore, the aura of the convent pervades and informs the plays, which breathe an air quite distinct from that which blows through the more formal, poetically conventional epics; words composed by a woman but unquestionably directed to men and the life at court. The plays, by contrast, are first and foremost women’s words written in and for a woman’s voice, and men’s participation in this drama, while not excluded, does not seem to be of any real interest to the author. That the setting of the plays is made explicit, when necessary, in the script undercuts Wiles’s suggestion, pp. 137–38, that the plays call for a primitive sort of “place and scaffold” stage. That there are, according to Wiles, “no major revolutions in the visual arts between the tenth century and the twelfth” is a statement of debatable merit in this context and, without clearer evidence from Hrotsvit’s day, hardly a basis for retrojecting such a distinctive theatrical construct as the “place and scaffold” stage back two centuries. Like much of ancient drama, Hrotsvit’s plays depend little, if at all, on the physical environment of the stage and far more on the words deployed to translate the play’s actions and thoughts to the audience. See D. L. Page, Select Papyri, vol. 3 (Cambridge, Mass.: Harvard University Press, 1970), pp. 336–61. The connection to mime may have come through Theophano, the daughter of a Byzantine emperor and the wife of Otto II, who is known to have introduced some Eastern traditions to the Saxon court. A. Haight, Hroswitha of Gandersheim: Her Life, Times and Works, and a Comprehensive Bibliography (New York: Hroswitha Club, 1965), p. 19, discusses the suggestion of M. Butler that there converge “three dramatic streams within Hrotswitha’s writing—the literary tradition of classical antiquity, the mimetic influence, and the liturgical form;” cf. also Wilson, Medieval Women, p. 34, who notes the “elements of an almost mimelike character” in Dulcitius. Wiles, “Hrosvitha,” p. 137, relates this to “the popular art of the mimus,” though what that art was, and the nature of ancient mime in general, could not be explored in any real depth until relatively recently following the discovery and publication of ancient mimes. Wiles, “Hrosvitha,” p. 136, refers aptly to the texts of Hrotsvit’s plays as “skeletal” and suggests reading them as “notations of an event rather than as complete and closed works of literature.” Our production certainly opened up many possibilities for nonverbal comedy.

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15.

16. 17. 18. 19.

20. 21.

Dronke, Women Writers, p. 59, points to “the ‘mime-like’ element” in Hrotsvit’s Dulcitius and notes “we can be sure that she would not have shaped her scene in this particular way if she had never herself watched a mime.” Dronke, Women Writers, p. 59, points also to the moment in Callimachus when God appears to St. John and Andronicus as a young boy and then disappears suddenly: “Even in the most unadorned public reading, these last words of Andronicus would be hard to fathom unless the fair young man were seen to vanish before the eyes of the audience.” Ironically, in our production we chose not to play it that way and it worked very well as comedy—to us, the rather dense Andronicus who does not, in fact, see God at all in the scene is not really sure whether He is still there or not—but Dronke’s point still stands. The audience must see what happens one way or the other, or they become the dense and senseless Andronicus! However it is done, the moment is clearly meant to be staged, not just read. The Milites and Ostiarii of Dulcitius fall into the same category. Horace, Ars Poetica 193–201. N. Slater discusses the metatheatricality of Plautus’s comedies in Plautus in Performance (Princeton, N.J.: Princeton University Press, 1985). Dronke, Women Writers, p. 73, sagely admonishes those “who have seen Hrotsvit’s aim only in terms of a ‘straight’ didactic and ascetic intention have not read her Prefaces or her writings sensitively.” For example, Terence, Adelphoe 714. In the introduction to their recently published translations of Roman comedy, Plautus and Terence: Five Comedies (Indianapolis: Hackett, 1999), pp. x–xi, D. Berg and D. Parker summarize well the challenges confronting those who aim at creating modern stageworthy translations of ancient comedy and whose loyalties must be to the target language, English. “Our job is to capture the humor, the pace, and the sound of the ancient language. We have tried to make the dialogue seem as natural as possible, while still keeping the high-flying wordplay that crops up: a ‘colloquial rhetoric’ that revels in the possibilities of High and Low American, and especially in their melding. . . . [W]hile we have not dismembered the ancient plays and rebuilt them into new wholes . . . , we have taken the liberty to prod the characters into shape, substitute a joke here for a joke there, inflate the rhetoric to achieve the prodigal effect, and do whatever possible to bring forth the ‘Plautine’ or ‘Terentian’ spirit of the plays.”

RESUSCITATIO DRUSIANAE ET CALLIMACHI Scene 1: CALLIMACHUS. AMICI. CALLIMACHUS.

Paucis vos, amici, volo. Utere, quantum libet, nostro colloquio. Si aegre non accipitis, malo vos interim sequestrari aliorum a collegio.

Hrotsvit’s Callimachus and the Art of Comedy

AMICI. CALLIMACHUS. AMICI.

53

Quod tibi videtur commodum, nobis est sequendum. Accedamus in secretiora loca, ne aliquis superveniens interrumpat dicenda. Ut libet.

Scene 2: CALLIMACHUS.

AMICI.

CALLIMACHUS. AMICI.

CALLIMACHUS. AMICI. CALLIMACHUS. AMICI. CALLIMACHUS. AMICI. CALLIMACHUS. AMICI.

CALLIMACHUS. AMICI. CALLIMACHUS. AMICI. CALLIMACHUS.

Anxie diuque gravem sustinui dolorem, quem vestro consilio relevari posse spero. Aequum est, ut communicata invicem compassione patiamur, quicquid unicuique nostrum utriusque eventu fortunae ingeratur. O utinam voluissetis meam passionem compatiendo mecum partiri! Enuclea, quid patiaris, et, si res exigit, compatiemur; sin autem: animum tuum a nequam intentione revocari nitimur. Amo. Quid? Rem pulchram, rem venustam. Nec in solo, nec in omni; ideo atomum, quod amas, per hoc nequit intellegi. Mulierem. Cum mulierem dixeris, omnes comprehendis Non omnes aequaliter, sed unam specialiter. Quod de subiecto dicitur, non nisi de subiecto aliquo congnoscitur. Unde, si velis nos enarithmum agnoscere, dic primam usiam. Drusianam. Andronici huius principis coniugem? Ipsam. Erras, socie; est lota baptismate. Inde non curo, si ipsam ad mei amorem attrahere potero.

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AMICI. CALLIMACHUS. AMICI. CALLIMACHUS. AMICI.

CALLIMACHUS. AMICI. CALLIMACHUS.

AMICI. CALLIMACHUS. AMICI.

Mark Damen

Non poteris. Cur diffiditis? Quia rem difficilem petis. Num ego primus huiusmodi rem peto, et non multorum ad audendum provocatus sum exemplo? Intende, frater: ea ipsa, quam ardes, sancti Iohannis apostoli doctrinam secuta, totam se devovit deo, in tantum, ut nec ad thorum Andronici christianissimi viri iam dudum potuit revocari, quo minus tuae consentiet vanitati. Quaesivi a vobis consolationem, sed incutitis mihi desperationem. Qui simulat, fallit; et qui profert adulationem, vendit veritatem. Quia mihi vestrum auxilium subtrahitis, ipsam adibo eiusque animo mei amorem blandimentis persuadebo. Haut persuadebis. Quippe vetar fatis! Experiemur.

Scene 3: CALLIMACHUS. DRUSIANI.

CALLIMACHUS. DRUSIANA. CALLIMACHUS. DRUSIANA. CALLIMACHUS. DRUSIANA.

CALLIMACHUS. DRUSIANA. CALLIMACHUS. DRUSIANA.

Sermo meus ad te, Drusiana, praecordialis amor. Quid mecum velis, Calimache, sermonibus agere, vehementer admiror. Miraris? Satis. Primum de amore. Quid de amore? Id scilicet, quod te prae omnibus diligo. Quod ius consanguinitatis, quaeve legalis conditio institutionis compellit te ad mei amorem? Tui pulchritudo Mea pulchritudo? Immo. Quid ad te?

Hrotsvit’s Callimachus and the Art of Comedy

CALLIMACHUS. DRUSIANA.

CALLIMACHUS.

DRUSIANA.

CALLIMACHUS.

DRUSIANA. CALLIMACHUS. DRUSIANA. CALLIMACHUS. DRUSIANA.

CALLIMACHUS.

Pro dolor! hactenus parum, sed spero, quod attineat postmodum. Discede, discede, leno nefande; confundor enim diutius tecum verba commiscere quem sentio plenum diabolica deceptione. Mea Drusiana, ne repellas te amantem tuoque amore cordetenus inhaerentem, sed impende amori vicem. Lenocinia tua parvi pendo tuique lasciviam fastidio, sed te ipsum penitus sperno. Adhuc non repperi occasionem irascendi, quia, quid mea in te agat dilectio, forte erubescis fateri. Nihil aliud nisi indignationem. Credo te hanc sententiam mutatum ire. Non mutabo, percerte! Forte! O insensate et amens, cur falleris? cur te vacua spe illudis? quo pacto, qua dementia reris me tuae cedere nugacitati, quae per multum temporis a legalis thoro viri me abstinui? Pro deum atque hominum fidem! si non cesseris, non quiescam, non desistam, donec te captuosis circumveniam insidiis.

Scene 4: DRUSIANA.

Eh heu! domine Iesu Christe, quid prodest castitatis professionem subiisse, cum is amens mea deceptus est specie? Intende, domine, mei timorem; intende, quem patior, dolorem! Quid mihi, quid agendum sit, ignoro: si prodidero, civilis per me fiet discordia; si celavero,

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ANDRONICHUS.

Mark Damen

insidiis diabolicis sine te refragari nequeo. Iube me in te, Christe, ocius mori, ne fiam in ruinam delicato iuveni! Vae mihi infortunato! en inprovise mortua est Drusiana. Curro sanctumque Iohannem advoco.

Scene 5: IOHANNES. ANDRONICHUS. IOHANNES. ANDRONICHUS. IOHANNES. ANDRONICHUS. IOHANNES. ANDRONICHUS.

IOHANNES. ANDRONICHUS. IOHANNES. ANDRONICHUS.

IOHANNES.

Cur nimium contristaris, Andronice? cur fluunt lacrimae? Heu heu, domine! taedeo vitae propriae. Quid pateris? Drusiana, tui assecla— Estne homine exuta? Hem! est. Multum disconvenit, ut pro his fundantur lacrimae, quorum animas credimus laetari in requie. Non dubitem licet, quin, ut asseris, anima aeternaliter laetetur corpusque quandoque incorruptum resuscitetur, hoc tamen me vehementer exurit, quod ipsa me praesente mortem, ut adveniret, optando invitavit. Agnovisti causam? Agnovi tibique enucleam, si quando ex tristitia hac convalescam. Accedamus exequiasque diligenter celebremus. Marmoreum in proximo sepulchrum habetur; in quod funus ponatur, servandique cura sepulchri Fortunato nostro relinquatur procuratori. Decet, ut tumuletur honorifice. Deus laetificet animam in requie.

Hrotsvit’s Callimachus and the Art of Comedy

Scene 6: CALLIMACHUS.

FORTUNATUS. CALLIMACHUS. FORTUNATUS. CALLIMACHUS. FORTUNATUS.

CALLIMACHUS. FORTUNATUS. CALLIMACHUS. FORTUNATUS. CALLIMACHUS.

Quid fiet, Fortunate? quia nec morte Drusianae revocari possum ab amore. Miserabile. Pereo, nisi me adiuvet tua industria. In quo possum adiuvare? In eo, ut vel mortuam me facias videre. Corpus adhuc integrum manet, ut reor, quia non languore exesum, sed levi, ut experiebare, febre est solutum. O me felicem, si numquam experirer! Si placabis muneribus, dedam illud tuis usibus. Quae in praesenti ad manus habeo, interim accipe; nec diffidas te multo maiora accepturum fore. Eamus cito. In me non erit mora.

Scene 7: FORTUNATUS.

CALLIMACHUS.

FORTUNATUS. CALLIMACHUS.

Ecce corpus: nec facies cadaverosa, nec membra sunt tabida. Abutere, ut libet. O Drusiana, Drusiana, quo affectu cordis te colui, qua sinceritate dilectionis te visceratenus amplexatus fui, et tu semper abiecisti, meis votis contradixisti! Nunc in mea situm est potestate, quantislibet iniuriis te velim lacessere. Atat! horribilis serpens invadit nos. Ei mihi, Fortunate, cur me decepisti? cur detestabile scelus persuasisti? En, tu morieris serpentis vulnere, et ego commorior prae timore.

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Mark Damen

Scene 8: IOHANNES.

ANDRONICHUS. IOHANNES. DEUS. IOHANNES. DEUS.

ANDRONICHUS. IOHANNES. ANDRONICHUS.

Accedamus, Andronice, ad tumulum Drusianae, quo animam Christo commendemus prece. Hoc decet tui sanctitatem, ut non obliviscaris in te confidentem. Ecce, invisibilis deus nobis apparet visibilis in pulcherrimi similitudine iuvenis. Expavete! Domine Iesu, cur iuxta id loci dignatus es servis tuis manifestari? Propter Drusianae eiusque, qui iuxta sepulchrum illius iacet, resuscitationem apparui, quia nomen meum in his debet gloriari. Quam subito receptus est caelo! Ideo causam penitus non intellego. Maturemus gressum; forte re experieris in perventione, quod asseris te minus intellegere.

Scene 9: IOHANNES.

ANDRONICHUS.

IOHANNES. ANDRONICHUS.

IOHANNES. ANDRONICHUS.

In nomine Christi, quid est hoc quod video miraculi? Ecce, aperto sepulchro corpus Drusianae foras est eiectum; iuxta quod iacent duo cadavera amplexu serpentis circumflexa. Coniecto, quid significet. Is ipse Callimachus Drusianam, dum viveret, illicite amavit, quod illa aegre ferens, in febrem prae tristitia incidit et mortem, ut adveniret, invitavit. Hoc amor castitatis coegit. Post cuius occasum hic amens, infelicis languorem amoris et negati taedium conglomerans sceleris, tabescebat animo eoque magis desiderio aestuabat. Miserabile. Non ambigo, quin hunc inprobum servum mercede conduceret, quo illi patrandi occasionem facinoris praeberet.

Hrotsvit’s Callimachus and the Art of Comedy

IOHANNES. ANDRONICHUS. IOHANNES. ANDRONICHUS.

IOHANNES.

ANDRONICHUS. IOHANNES. ANDRONICHUS.

IOHANNES. ANDRONICHUS. IOHANNES. ANDRONICHUS. IOHANNES. ANDRONICHUS. IOHANNES.

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O nefas incomparabile! Ideo ambo, ut video, morte sunt consumpti, ne effectum administrarent sceleri. Nec iniuria. In hoc tamen illud est vel maxime admirandum, cur huius, qui pravum voluit, resuscitatio magis, quam eius, qui consensit, divina sit voce praenuntiata, nisi quia forte hic, carnali deceptus delectatione, deliquit ignorantia, iste autem sola malitia. Quanta supernus arbiter districtione cunctorum facta examinat, quamque aequa lance singulorum merita pensat, id non obvium nec cuiquam explicabile fore potest, quia divini subtilitas iudicii longe praeterit humani sagacitatem ingenii. Ideo admirando deficimus, quia rerum, quae geruntur, causas docte iternoscere nequimus. Eventus post facta docet persaepe rerum discrimina. Verum age iam, beate Iohannes, quod acturus es: fac, ut resuscitetur Callimachus, quo solvatur huiusmodi ambiguitatis nodus. Reor, prius invocato Christi nomine anguem proturbandum, post vero Calimachum suscitandum. Recte reris, ne ultra laedatur morsu serpentis. Discede ab hoc, crudelis bestia, quia serviturus est Christo. Licet inrationale sit animal, haut surda tamen aure, quod iussisti, obaudivit. Non mea, sed Christi virtute paruit. Ideo citius dicto evanuit. Deus incircumscriptus et incomprehensibilis, simplex et inaestimabilis, qui solus es id quod es, qui, diversa duo socians, ex hoc et hoc hominem fingis,

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ANDRONICHUS. IOHANNES.

CALLIMACHUS.

IOHANNES.

CALLIMACHUS. IOHANNES. CALLIMACHUS. IOHANNES. CALLIMACHUS.

ANDRONICHUS. CALLIMACHUS.

IOHANNES.

Mark Damen

eademque dissocians, unum, quod constabat, resolvis, iube, ut, reducto halitu disiunctaque compagine rursus conliminata, Callimachus resurgat plenus, ut fuit, homo, quo ab omnibus magnificeris, qui solus miranda operaris. Amen.—Ecce vitales auras carpit, sed prae stupore adhuc quiescit. Calimache, surge in Christi nomine, et, utcumque se res habeat, confitere; quantislibet obnoxius sis vitiis, proferas, ne nos vel in modico lateat veritas. Negare nequeo, quin patrandi causa facinoris accesserim, quia infelici languore tabescebam nec inliciti aestum amoris compescere poteram. Quae dementia, quae insania te decepit, ut castis praesumeres fragmentis alicuius iniuriam conferre dehonestatis? Propria stultitia huiusque Fortunati fraudolenta deceptio. Num triplici infortunio adeo inflex effectus es, ut nefas, quod voluisti, perficere posses? Nullatenus. Licet non defuisset velle, possibilitas tamen omnino defuit posse. Quo pacto impediebaris? Ut primum, distracto tegmine, conviciis temptavi lacessere corpus exanime, iste Fortunatus, qui fomes mali et incensor extitit, serpentinis perfuses venenis periit. O factum bene! Mihi autem apparuit iuvenis, aspectu terribilis, qui detectum corpus honorifice texit; ex cuius flammea facie candentes in bustum scintillae transiliebant, quarum una resiliens mihi in facium ferebatur, simulque vox facta est, dicens: ‘Calimache, morere, ut vivas!’ His dictis, exspiravi. Opus caelestis gratiae, qui non delectatur in impiorum perditione.

Hrotsvit’s Callimachus and the Art of Comedy

CALLIMACHUS. IOHANNES. CALLIMACHUS.

IOHANNES. CALLIMACHUS.

IOHANNES. CALLIMACHUS. IOHANNES. CALLIMACHUS. IOHANNES. CALLIMACHUS.

IOHANNES. CALLIMACHUS.

IOHANNES.

Audisti miseriam meae perditionis: noli elongare medelam tuae miserationis. Non elongabo. Nam nimium confundor, cordetenus contristor, anxio, gemo, doleo super gravi impietate mea. Nec inmerito; quippe grave delictum haut leve poenitudinis expectat remedium. O utinam reserarentur secreta meorum viscerum latibula, quo interni amaritudinem, quam patior, doloris perspiceres et dolenti condoleres! Congaudeo huiusmodi dolori, quia sentio te salubriter contristari. Taedet me prioris vitae, taedet delectationis iniquae. Nec iniuria. Poenitet me; deliqui. Et merito. Displicet omne, quod feci, in tantum, ut nullus amor, nulla voluptas est vivendi, nisi renatus in Christo merear in melius transmutari. Non dubito, quin superna gratia in te appareat. Ideo ne moreris, ne pigriteris lapsum erigere, maerentem consolationibus attollere, quo tuo monitu, tuo magisterio a gentili in christianum, a nugace in castum transmutatus virum, tuoque ducatu semitam arripiens veritatis, vivam iuxta divinae praeconium promissionis. Benedicta sit unica progenies divinitatis idemque particeps nostrae fragilitatis, qui te, fili Calimache, parcendo occidit et occidendo vivificavit,

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ANDRONICHUS. IOHANNES.

ANDRONICHUS. ⬍IOHANNES.⬎

ANDRONICHUS.

IOHANNES. DRUSIANA. CALLIMACHUS.

DRUSIANA.

CALLIMACHUS.

Mark Damen

quo suum plasma mortis specie ab interitu liberaret animae. Res insolita onmique admiratione digna. O Christe, mundi redemptio et peccatorum propitiatio, qualibus laudum praeconiis te talem celebrem, ignoro. Expaveo tui benignam clementiam et clementem patientiam, qui peccantes nunc paterno more tolerando blandiris, nunc iusta severitate castigando ad poenitentiam cogis. Laus eius divinae pietati. Quis auderet credere, quisve praesumeret sperare, ut hunc, quem criminosis intentum vitiis mors invenit et inventum abstulit, tui miseratio ad vitam excitare, ad veniam dignaretur reparare? Sit nomen tuum sanctum benedictum in saecula, qui solus facis stupenda mirabilia! Eia, sancte Iohannes, et me consolari ne tardes; nam coniugalis amor Drusianae meam haut patitur mentem consistere, nisi et ipsam quantocius videam resurrectum ire. Drusiana, resuscitet te dominus Iesus Christus. Laus et honor tibi, Christe, qui me fecisti reviviscere. Sospitatis auctori grates, qui te, mea Drusiana, resurgere dedit in laetitia, quae gravi cum tristitia defungebaris extrema. Decet tui sanctitatem, venerande pater Iohannes, ut, resuscitato Calimacho, qui me inlicite amavit, et hunc resuscites, qui mei proditor funeris extitit. Ne dignum ducas, Christi apostole, hunc proditorem, hunc malefactorem

Hrotsvit’s Callimachus and the Art of Comedy

IOHANNES. CALLIMACHUS. IOHANNES. ANDRONICHUS. IOHANNES.

ANDRONICHUS. IOHANNES.

ANDRONICHUS. IOHANNES. ANDRONICHUS. IOHANNES.

CALLIMACHUS. IOHANNES.

DRUSIANA.

a vinculis mortis absolvere, qui me decepit, me seduxit meque ad audendum horribile facinus provocavit. Non debes illi invidere gratiam divinae clementiae. Non est enim dignus resurrectione, qui auctor extitit perditioni alienae. Lex nostrae religionis docet, ut homo homini dimittat, si ipse a deo dimitti ambiat. Iustum. Quando etiam dei unigenitus idemque virginis primogenitus, qui solus innocens, solus inmaculatus, solus sine veterni sorde delicti in mundum venit, omnes sub gravi onere peccati depressos invenit. Verum. Sed, licet nullum iustum, nullum misericordia inveniret dignum, neminem tamen sprevit, neminem suae gratia pietatis privavit, sed se ipsum tradidit suique dilectam animam pro omnibus posuit. Si innocens non occideretur, nemo iuste liberaretur. Ideo hominum non delectatur in perditione, quos suo emptos meminit pretioso sanguine. Gratias illi. Unde aliis dei gratiam non debemus invidere, quam ex nullis praecedentibus meritis in nobis gaudemus habundare. Terruisti me monitu. Ne autem tuis videar reniti votis, non suscitetur per me, sed per Drusianam, quia ad hoc implendum a deo accepit gratiam. Divina substantia, quae vere et singulariter es sine materia forma, quae hominem ad tui imaginem plasmasti et plasmato spiraculum vitae inspirasti, iube materiale corpus Fortunati

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IOHANNES. DRUSIANA. FORTUNATUS. IOHANNES. FORTUNATUS. IOHANNES. FORTUNATUS. IOHANNES. FORTUNATUS.

IOHANNES. FORTUNATUS. IOHANNES. FORTUNATUS.

IOHANNES.

ANDRONICHUS.

Mark Damen

reducto calore in viventem animam iterum reformari, quo trina nostri resuscitatio tibi in laudem vertatur, trinitas veneranda. Amen. Expergiscere, Fortunate, et iussu Christi retinacula mortis disrumpe. Quis me apprehensa manu erexit? quis vocem, ut resurgerem, dedit? Drusiana. Num me suscitavit Drusiana? Ipsa. Nonne ante aliquot dies inprovísa morte fuerat consumpta? At vivit in Christo. Et cur manet Callimachus gravi vultu modestus, nec perfurit solito more in amore Drusianae? Quia, a nequam intentione transmutatus, vere est Christi discipulus. Non. Etiam. Si, ut asseris, Drusiana me suscitavit et Callimachus Christo credidit, vitam repudio mortemque eligo sponte quia malo non esse quam in his tantam habundanter virtutum gratiam sentiscere. O admiranda diaboli invidia, o malitia serpentis antiqui, qui et protoplastis mortem propinavit et super iustorum gloria semper gemit! Iste infelicissimus Fortunatus diabolicae amaritudinis felle plenissimus comparatur malae arbori amaros fructus facienti. Unde, excisus a collegio iustorum et abiectus a consortio deum timentium, mittatur in aeterni ignem supplicii, cruciandus sine alicuius intermixtione refrigerii. Ecce, turgescentibus serpentinis morsibus, ad occasum rursus vergitur

Hrotsvit’s Callimachus and the Art of Comedy

65

et citius dicto morietur. Moriatur sitque incola gehennae, qui propter alieni invidiam profectus recusavit vivere. ANDRONICHUS. Terribile. IOHANNES. Nihil terribilius invido, nihil scelestius superbo. ANDRONICHUS. Uterque miserabilis. IOHANNES. Una eademque persona utroque semper laborat vitio, quia neutrum sine altero. ⬍ANDRONICHUS.⬎ Expone enucleatius. ⬍IOHANNES.⬎ Nam qui superbit, invidet, et qui invidet, superbit, quia mens invida, dum alienam laudem nec patitur audire et in sui comparatione perfectiores ambit vilescere, dedignatur subici dignioribus et superbe conatur praeferri comparibus. ANDRONICHUS. Patet. IOHANNES. Unde iste miserrimus vulnerabatur mente, quia se his inferiorem aestimari non sustinuit, in quis ampliorem dei gratiam lucere non nescivit. ANDRONICHUS. Nunc tandem intellego, quod inter surgentes minime est computatus, quia ocius erat moriturus. IOHANNES. Dignus est enim utraque morte, quia et commendatum funus afficiebat iniuria ex resurgentes iniusto insectabatur odio. ANDRONICHUS. Inflix est mortuus. IOHANNES. Recedamus suumque diabolo filium relinquamus. Nos autem diem istum, et pro miranda Calimachi mutatione, et pro utriusque suscitatione, cum laetitia agamus, gratias ferentes deo, aequo iudici secretorumque discretissimo cognitori, qui, solus omnia subtiliter examinans, omnia recte disponens, unumquemque, iuxta quod dignum praenoscit, praemiis suppliciisve aptabit. Ipsi soli honor, virtus, fortitudo et victoria, laus et iubilatio per infinita saeculorum saecula. Amen. IOHANNES.

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Mark Damen

TRANSLATION BY MARK DAMEN SCENE 1: A Street in Ephesus. CALLIMACHUS. FRIENDS. CALLIMACHUS.

FRIENDS.

CALLIMACHUS. FRIENDS.

(Whispering furtively.) But a bit of your time, my companions, is all that I ask. (Out loud, a classic vocal chorus from antiquity.) Use us as you wish. We came to talk. (Waving for them to hush up, whispering.) If it’s not disagreeable, I would prefer That you meet with me later, away from the others’ acquaintance. (As a choral stage-whisper.) If you think it best, We have no choice. We’ll reassemble in secret, somewhere Where no one just happening by might overhear what we say. (Bowing.) We obey.

SCENE 2: Another Location. Later. CALLIMACHUS.

FRIENDS.

CALLIMACHUS.

FRIENDS.

FRIENDS

They move and simply assume new places on the stage. (Wailing out loud now, a classic whiner.) Ah, I am sick. I can’t stop. Nothing helps. It’s a horrid disorder. That’s why I asked you to come here. I need your advice. Help me, if possible. You’re my only hope. (Calmly but relishing the prospect of “suffering.”) Right. We see. Begin by sharing it with us, your suffering, and we will suffer, too. Whatever happens, friend, to anyone of us, the rest in his misfortune take a part. (Melodramatically.) How I would like it if you could Partake of my suffering suffering, too! (A little too eager to share in his suffering.) So, tell us everything about your suffering! And if it’s all that bad, then we will suffer it with you. Pause. No response. On the other hand, perhaps you’d like to hear a joke? The Friends confer a moment. (Sheepishly.) We can’t remember any.

Hrotsvit’s Callimachus and the Art of Comedy

CALLIMACHUS. FRIENDS. CALLIMACHUS.

FRIENDS.

CALLIMACHUS. FRIENDS. CALLIMACHUS.

FRIENDS.

CALLIMACHUS. FRIENDS. CALLIMACHUS. FRIENDS.

CALLIMACHUS.

FRIENDS. CALLIMACHUS. FRIENDS. CALLIMACHUS.

67

(Suddenly bursting forth with the truth.) I’m in love. (Perplexed.) With what? A thing of beauty, Thing of joy! SOUND: A bell tolls. Hmmm. Well, you’re not alone in that, . . . (Giggling among themselves.) . . . well, maybe here you are. But still, it isn’t too specific, this “I’m in love” you say. Your meaning is amiss. (Earnestly.) No, woman. Woman? When you say that, Do you speak in general? No, not in general them all. (Gazing off in the distance.) There is one in particular. (Trying to bring him back to earth.) Remember how we learned in class, You can’t discuss a subject when you don’t define it first? If you mean for us to follow your equation, tell us first the total sum. (After a pause, finally coughing up the truth.) It’s Drusiana. (In shock.) As in Andronicus? Captain Andronicus? His wife? That’s what I mean. (Firmly.) She’s not available, pal! She’s been baptized. (Defensively.) That makes no difference to me! Assuming that she loves me back. I can see it. No, you can’t. Why don’t you believe me? You’ve chosen something very hard to do. (Melodramatically again.) Am I the first of my kind to have made such a choice? Have not thousands preceded me, calling me on? For example, . . .

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FRIENDS.

CALLIMACHUS. FRIENDS.

CALLIMACHUS.

FRIENDS. CALLIMACHUS. FRIENDS.

Mark Damen

(Interrupting.) Listen up, my brother! She, this woman, The very one you burn for, has joined with John the Saint. He’s an Apostle. Now she is completely sworn to God, so much so she doesn’t even share a bedroom with her husband Andronicus, Who, I’ve heard, is being very Christian in the matter. Callimachus laughs with delight and rubs his hands together. That’s not the joke we were trying to remember. And with this, you believe you can make her . . . forget it! I ask of my friends only sympathy, But you would rather cut me up in desperate little pieces. Liars are only deceiving themselves. And those who proffer flattery, Discount their veracity. Evidently I see that your help will be lacking somewhat. I will approach her alone. For, in her soul I know she’s in love with me. Soothing words are all I need to win her. You’ll need more than that. Then I will face my fate! And we’ll just watch and wait.

SCENE 3: Andronicus’s House.

CALLIMACHUS.

DRUSIANA.

Drusiana enters. Callimachus and the Friends assume new positions to show that the scene has changed. The scene is imagined to begin midway through the seduction scene. The Friends watch, robbing the moment of intimacy and making the emotions seem more public, the words less romantic than rhetorical (cf. Phaedra’s seduction of Hippolytus in Act 3 of Seneca’s Phaedra, which may have been Hrotsvit model for this scene). (After several silent false starts.) First, let me say, Drusiana, I speak from a heart, filled with love. (Confused but sympathetic, showing that she likes him.) What has that to do with me, Callimachus? (Pause.)

Hrotsvit’s Callimachus and the Art of Comedy

CALLIMACHUS. DRUSIANA. CALLIMACHUS.

DRUSIANA.

CALLIMACHUS.

DRUSIANA.

CALLIMACHUS. DRUSIANA.

CALLIMACHUS. DRUSIANA. CALLIMACHUS.

DRUSIANA.

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What do you mean to say? Is something wrong? You amaze me. (Finding new hope and direction in her words.) I amaze you? Very much. (Trying to start again.) First then, about this love. Callimachus breaks off again, searching for the right words to express his love. (After another pause, encouraging him but a bit impatient now.) What then, about this love? (Steeling himself for telling the truth, then declaiming.) This, to begin with, what you have before all of the others, mine! Pause. Drusiana looks confused. My love. Pause. Drusiana still looks confused. For you. (Finally seeing what he means, horrified.) What right have you . . .? (Controlling her anger, trying to give him the benefit of the doubt.) Are you a member of my family? Is there in any law or stipulation of the constitution Something that requires you to love me? Yes, you’re beautiful. (Trying to figure out how the law would require beauty to be loved.) I’m beautiful? You are. Is that any of your business? I’m sorry to say that it’s not, not before now at least. (Trying to make a joke.) But I hope to have your business in the future. (Mortified at his effrontery.) Leave me, Leave me, Lecherous outlaw! (Struggling with her own feelings as much as his.) I will burn, I know, if you keep stirring these words into me.

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CALLIMACHUS.

DRUSIANA.

CALLIMACHUS.

DRUSIANA. CALLIMACHUS. DRUSIANA. CALLIMACHUS. DRUSIANA.

CALLIMACHUS.

Mark Damen

I see you completely, and the devil in your treachery. Andronicus enters, drawn by Drusiana’s alarm. He is about to enter the scene, when he sees what is happening. He stays in the background throughout the rest of the scene, testing his wife’s fidelity and reacting to every turn in the action. (Hurling himself at her, down on his knees.) My own, O Drusiana, can you turn away a person so in love? (Throwing his arms open wide, and when she tries to run away, clinging to her knees.) A person who loves you this much in his heart, who clings to you. No, return in turn my love! (Extracting herself with some effort.) Lecher, pander, you! Little do I care For you. And your foul debauchery, I spit away! (Trying to be kind to him.) Though you yourself within my heart . . . Encouraged by her kindness, Callimachus moves toward her. She recoils. . . . I hate you! Up to this moment I’ve seen No reason for getting upset. But now I can see what I do to you, how desire has driven you mad. So I’m saved. That must be why you are blushing. Confess it. If I’m blushing, it’s with indignation. I think you are going to change your mind. I think I’m not, and I’m not. I’m not so sure. Oh! Stupid, mindless man! What makes you such an idiot? What delusions, empty expectations rule within you? With what manner of madness would you ever suppose I’d succumb to your musing? I am the one who for so many years, whose bed her wedded husband hasn’t even seen! (Laughing with delight at the mention of her chastity.) By all the gods of men, I swear! If you don’t surrender, I will never rest, I’ll never stop, (Pulling her into his arms forcefully.)

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Until I capture you, (With his lips next to hers, about to kiss her.) Surround you and enrapture you! Callimachus lets her think he is going to kiss her, then releases her. Drusiana collapses in agony. He laughs at her distress and rushes out, motioning for the Friends to follow him out. They do. Andronicus looks pleased and continues to watch in satisfaction at his wife’s display of fidelity. SCENE 4: The Same. DRUSIANA.

ANDRONICUS.

(Confused and in torment.) Oh dear, my Lord, O Jesus Christ! What good is there in chastity, in making any promise, If mindless men adore me still, deceived by mere appearance? Hear me, Lord, I am so much afraid! Hear my suffering, my sorrow! What am I to . . . , what should I do? I don’t know. Say I accuse him: The city for me will turn violent. But suppose then I stay quiet, I become the devil’s toy, a godless thing opposed to you. I cannot! (Seeing the way out in a flash of insight, falling to her knees.) Call me To you, Christ, This instant end my suffering! Don’t turn me To the ruin Of this boy, this weaker thing! Drusiana falls over dead. Andronicus’s expression changes rapidly from glee to horror. He rushes forward to her body. (Hysterical.) Good grief! My wife! What terrible luck! Who could have known she would die? Drusiana? (About to collapse too, then catching himself.) No, I mustn’t faint. (Having his own insight.) I’ll seek advice from John the Saint.

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Andronicus rushes across the stage to John’s desert cave. The Friends, now as God, enter and carry off Drusiana’s body. SCENE 5: John’s Cave in the Desert.

JOHN.

ANDRONICUS.

JOHN. ANDRONICUS. JOHN. ANDRONICUS. JOHN.

ANDRONICUS.

JOHN. ANDRONICUS.

Andronicus stands outside the door of John’s cave and wails loudly. John comes out to see what’s wrong. He is sharpening a sword. (Bored, he has seen Andronicus’s emotional explosions before.) Quite a frown you wear there, Andronicus. Why? And why do you shed tears? (Wailing.) Alas, alas, my master, I don’t want to live my life. (Rolling his eyes.) What are you suffering? It’s Drusiana, your disciple. . . . (Suppressing a laugh.) Let me guess, she left you. (Bursting into tears.) She did. She’s dead. (Shocked by the news of Drusiana’s death, trying to cover his surprise by spouting platitudes.) Hardly fitting, is it, then if someone dies, to pour out tears? Their souls, we trust, rejoice in peace. (Pacing up and down in frustration, trying to control his anger.) Truly, I would never say you’re wrong, of course. I know, you told me, how the soul eternal joins in joy, And the body some day too when cleansed of sin will live again. (Exploding in grief and rage.) But this time it really burns me up: In person right in front of me she died. She begged to, prayed to. (Bursting into loud wailing again.) She invoked it! (Trying to calm him down.) Do you know the cause? (Wiping away his tears, sniffing and sulking a little.)

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ANDRONICUS.

JOHN.

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I know the cause and I will tell you, Someday when I’ve gotten over this and feel a little better. (Suggesting a course of therapy.) We should go to her And give her funeral, a proper celebration. (Perking up at the suggestion, happy again.) Yes, I have a marble sepulcher nearby My house. That’s where her body ought to lie. Andronicus starts to leave the way he entered but pulls up short. But someone needs to stand there as a guard. I know, Fortunatus! He does my yard. (Acknowledging Andronicus’s unintentional pun.) A gardener, good! Let’s pile her tomb with honors everywhere. God can gladden any heart and banish any care. Andronicus starts off again. John clears his throat to get Andronicus’s attention and points off the other way. Andronicus stops, changes direction and scurries off behind John who leaves the way he pointed.

SCENE 6: Andronicus’s House.

CALLIMACHUS.

FORTUNATUS. CALLIMACHUS. FORTUNATUS. CALLIMACHUS. FORTUNATUS.

Callimachus and Fortunatus enter. Callimachus now has a moneybag hanging from his belt. Fortunatus is a deformed creature, perhaps a hunchback, who speaks with a heavy accent, an Igor or Peter Lorre sort of character. (Melodramatically.) What should I do, Fortunatus? I can’t understand, but even Drusiana’s death Hasn’t lightened my heart of her love. (In mocking sympathy.) Love, terrible thing. I’m going to die, If someone won’t help me. Can’t you do something? Please! (Staring at Callimachus’s moneybag.) Me? How could help I? There is this: I know that she’s dead, but could you at least let me see her? (Trying to pump Callimachus for details about Drusiana’s death.) Well, body is fresh. Lying there still, I suppose. And woman she wasted no time, wasting away.

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CALLIMACHUS. FORTUNATUS.

CALLIMACHUS.

FORTUNATUS.

CALLIMACHUS.

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No, went like just that, so I hear! But then you were there, were you not? (Nudging him to talk, but he doesn’t. Then shrugging.) Some fever I’d guess. (Lost in the whirlpool of his grief, staring into the distance.) What a lucky man you are, to never have been me! (Putting an arm around Callimachus to get his attention.) But, say you be friend . . . Callimachus responds immediately by putting his arm lovingly around Fortunatus, who pushes him away. (Correcting Callimachus’s misimpression of his friendly motion.) . . . friend with money, I could see that body made available to you, for . . . use. (Feeling around in his clothes.) Whatever I’ve got on my body, it’s yours! (Suggestively, handing him the moneybag.) And don’t suppose there isn’t more, a whole lot more, if you will take it. (Pushing him off toward the tomb, weighing the moneybag in his hand.) Go! Man should be swift. (Pausing, then seeing Fortunatus’s point.) Oh! I get your drift.

SCENE 7: Drusiana’s Tomb.

FORTUNATUS.

CALLIMACHUS.

Fortunatus leads Callimachus around the stage to the tomb of Drusiana. God brings Drusiana’s corpse on stage and puts it in the tomb. God remains on stage throughout the rest of the play. (Gleefully pulling back the veil over Drusiana’s corpse and fondling it.) Look, body! And face no cadaver’s, And legs no decay! Molest? Sure, go on! (Falling over the body and rubbing it with his hands.) O Drusiana, Drusiana, The affection of heart I felt for you, You’ll never know how much I really loved you, deep inside me held you to me,

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But always you rejected me, And my prayers, you counted those for nothing. (Preparing to molest the body.) But now, now I have in my power Whatever I want, even to hurt you, I might, or harass you some more. God causes a great snake to appear. Don’t look now, but horrible something, big snake is attacking us. Fortunatus falls to the ground in spasms of pain. (Leaping off Drusiana’s body and watching Fortunatus die.) Ohmygod, Fortunatus! Why did you lie to me! Why? Did you hate me so much That you’d lure me to sin? And, see, you will die by a serpent’s bite. Fortunatus dies. And I will also die, of fright. Callimachus dies.

SCENE 8: The Road Leading to Drusiana’s Tomb. JOHN.

ANDRONICUS.

JOHN.

GOD.

John jogs effortlessly onto stage. (Running in place, yelling behind him.) Hurry up! Andronicus! Up ahead’s the tomb of Drusiana, Where her soul and Christ we’ll join in prayer. Andronicus staggers onto stage. (Gasping for breath.) How fit you are, . . . your holiness, I mean! Thanks for waiting. Now I see why people follow you. God crosses from the tomb and stands in front of John and Andronicus. Only John sees Him. (Calmly.) Oh look, it’s God. Andronicus leaps up in shock. He looks up in the air in panic. He looks around everywhere for God except where He is. (Reassuring Andronicus, with some condescension.) You can’t see Him there but I can see Him. He appears most beautiful, the likeness of a little boy. (Thundering, the God of the Old Testament.)

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JOHN.

GOD.

ANDRONICUS. JOHN. ANDRONICUS.

Mark Damen

Tremble, you! Andronicus shrieks in terror. (Nodding to Andronicus as if to say “See I told you. It’s God.”) God! (Kneeling, calmly with confidence and familiarity. He talks with God regularly and knows, for instance, to speak in rhyme.) O Jesus, why beside us here, us two, Have You deemed Your servants worthy of beholding You? (Ethereally.) For Druisana and the man, the one beside her sepulcher who lies in here, for their resurrection I appear, And because in them My name will earn an everlasting fame. God goes back to the tomb. Pause. Now John is perplexed, and Andronicus takes charge of the scene. (Looking around.) That’s all? Where did He go? Back to heaven? (Stunned by God’s revelation.) Why did He appear at all? I’m not sure I understand Him fully. (Pushing him off toward the tomb.) Let’s just get a move on! You can figure out the reason as we go, If you claim you still don’t really know.

SCENE 9: Drusiana’s Tomb. JOHN.

ANDRONICUS.

Andronicus and John come to the entrance of the tomb. In the name of Christ, What’s this sight I see? A miracle? (Rushing in to investigate the tomb.) Look, the tomb is open and the body . . . (Crying out in joy.) Drusiana’s got away! (Seeing the body on the ground.) No, she’s fallen on the ground. And beside her lies another body. No, there’re two, and both are Tangled in some serpent’s lap. I understand. I know what all this means. (Pointing to Callimachus.) He’s the one. The very one. Callimachus.

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JOHN. ANDRONICUS.

JOHN. ANDRONICUS.

JOHN ANDRONICUS.

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Drusiana’s . . . well, he was her would-be lover. Now he’s just a has-been. But she got angry and refused him. That’s when the fever Which really was grief struck her down. And she died. (Starting to weep and wail again.) She begged to, she invoked it! (Trying to calm him down and console him.) Yes, I know. Her love of chastity demanded it. (Building to a fevered pitch of frenzy.) After she had died, he went crazy too, the wretch! He languished in his love. Her rejection ate at him. He fixated upon his crime. And his soul, it started to corrode, And more and more he burned with lust. (Realizing that he’s gone overboard in his description, suddenly calmly.) That’s my guess. (Rolling his eyes.) I’m sorry to hear it. (Like a scholar, formal and disapproving.) I won’t burn around the bush. It’s this wicked servant here. See, this money, he was bought, So this man could consummate his awful business. (Shocked, not quite believing Andronicus’s speculations.) Who’s ever heard of such a thing before? And then the both of them, in my opinion, Death devoured them, So they couldn’t do what they were planning, awful things. (Ignoring Andronicus, looking at the bodies.) There are laws concerning that. But still there’s something I don’t get, that really makes me wonder: why would he, so full of wicked lust, Deserve to live again, when this one just abetted? That’s what God said, didn’t He? You heard His voice, His proclamation? God steps forward, touches Andronicus gently and steps back. (Looking to heaven with inspiration, in an ecstasy of mounting emotional fireworks.) Maybe it’s because he’s only flesh and, taken in by his own lust, he fell from grace because he is . . . a moron.

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JOHN.

ANDRONICUS.

JOHN.

ANDRONICUS.

JOHN.

ANDRONICUS.

JOHN.

Mark Damen

(The inspiration is suddenly gone, he’s back to himself.) This one, whereas, he was simply bad. (Sensing Andronicus’s brush with the divine, a little jealous.) Wonderful on high, He judges and discriminates us all and measures every deed we do. And how impartial! Every single person’s worth is taken, We will never know, nor could anyone explain it ever, all because He’s God. He makes complicated judgments. We aren’t even close, we humans. (Humbly, but really chastising Andronicus for presuming to understand God.) We don’t have the wisdom. That’s the way we’re born. (Accepting the implicit criticism, but fighting back a little.) So we just stand around amazed, going nowhere, After all the things we do, we think we know the reasons why we do them but we never really can, . . . (Challenging John’s authority.) . . . or can we? (Seeing Andronicus’s point, trying to fight back with little success.) The ends, indeed, when all is done, Show us often why things really happen. (Gleeful at his victory.) Yes! So, come now, Holy John, Do what you’re supposed to do, Go on and resurrect Callimachus, Be the key to this conundrum, and unknot our knot, or not! (Stalling, not at all certain that this is the right course of action.) I suppose, but before I call on Christ, by name, this serpent needs to be exterminated first. Only then Callimachus can be revived. (Slapping John on the back.) Good supposing! It could strike a second time and bite him. It’s a snake. (Pushing Andronicus away, then waving his hand at the snake.) Get away from him, you cruel, you animal, (Scolding the snake like a parent.) And let me tell you why. He’s supposed to be redeemed by Christ. The snake begins to disappear. John looks shocked that the extermination worked.

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JOHN. ANDRONICUS.

JOHN.

ANDRONICUS JOHN.

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(Laughing with delight.) Look! A senseless beast, but still not deaf! This snake has ears, I’d say, for when you ordered it to go, it listened. (Backing away in confusion.) No, no, not I. But Christ! His goodness made it go. All the same, you hardly breathed and up it went in smoke. John nods, acknowledging Andronicus’s point. He moves Andronicus off to the side and goes over to the body of Callimachus. He stands over it and prepares to resurrect it. Throughout this incantation he waves his hands in a ritualistic fashion. God, O infinite and all that is insoluble, One plus two are You, and the numerical value of pi, Nothing quite is like You, What You are, You who take from different sets two unknowns and multiply To this side and to this, and a total human is your product, Likewise You divide them later, (With finality, he expects this to work.) So, where once was one, You duplicate to two, the soul and body! Andronicus rushes up to the body. Both look at it in anticipation. Nothing happens. Andronicus shrugs. John moves him back over to his corner and goes back to the body to try again. (With all his saintly might, speaking rapidly in one breath.) Quod est demonstrandum, Lord: integrate this person’s breath into his differentiated fractal so he is again coterminous! Add Callimachus again and make him whole in number, as once he was, a human, and everyone will wonder at Your doing. (Begging heavenward.) For God alone can make equations work. Andronicus rushes up again and looks at the body. Callimachus stirs a little, then collapses motionless again. Amen! Look! He’s alive. He’s breathing. Sort of. But he isn’t moving yet. Nope, he’s still just lying there. (Simply and purely praying.) Callimachus, Arise, in heaven’s name! (Whispering in Callimachus’s ear as if about to hear his confession.)

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CALLIMACHUS.

JOHN.

CALLIMACHUS.

JOHN.

CALLIMACHUS.

JOHN. CALLIMACHUS.

ANDRONICUS. CALLIMACHUS.

Mark Damen

Whatever your trouble is, all you must do is confess it! It doesn’t matter how awful you’ve been, or your crimes, surrender them! Let us in on all of it! You cannot hide the truth. God waves His hand and Callimachus sits bolt upright, knocking John over backwards. Callimachus looks around smiling at first, when he sees Drusiana. Then he sees John and Andronicus and realizes where he is and that there is no hiding his crime now. (Hanging his head.) No, it’s true I can’t. To perpetrate a crime, that’s why I came. (Whining, making excuses.) A debilitating ill was eating me away, A lawless thing, a summer’s love. I tried to fight. Are you crazy? Were you mad? What possessed you? She is chaste, And you were going to . . . to her remains? Such injury? To bring dishonor? Honestly! (Contrite.) It was my own foolishness. (Seeing Fortunatus, pointing at him.) And his! Him, Fortunatus! He lied to me. Deceived me. (Angry.) Sorry, sorry, sorry man! Were you so afflicted you could do it? This infraction? If you’d wanted, could you truly do it? (Thinking about it for a beat or two, then lying.) I don’t think so. I admit there was no lack of passion, but I couldn’t do it, not in actuality. So, did anybody try to stop you? The second I removed her shroud, I reproached her, tried to fire up her body, lifeless though it was. But it was really him, that Fortunatus, the foster-father of my sin, he lit the flame in me. And then a serpent came and poured its venom over him, and he was dead. (To John.) I love a happy ending. (Building to a beatific climax.) And then I saw a vision of a boy. His expression terrified me. When he saw the body stripped, he said some sort of prayer

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CALLIMACHUS.

JOHN. CALLIMACHUS.

JOHN.

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and covered it. His face was fire pure and simple. By itself it lit the tomb. Flames began to jump up everywhere. And one of them reflected Onto me, hit me in the face head on and suddenly a voice appeared and said, “Be, Callimachus, no more to live!” (Shrugging, with no idea what the words mean.) That’s all it said, and I was dead. (Understanding that this is the work of God, to Andronicus.) The work of heaven! It’s a blessing! (Seeing that Andronicus is somewhat miffed at the idea that Callimachus got to see God when he, a believer, did not.) He does not delight in sinners or in damning them, you know. (Throwing himself down and embracing John’s knees.) What’s left for me to say? My condition is without a doubt damnation. Please don’t make me wait! Repair me! Recondition me! (Lifting Callimachus up and taking out his sword.) Here’s one surgeon you won’t have to wait for. (Seeing the sword and falling back to the ground, embracing John’s knees again this time in panic.) Because I’m abundantly sad, Deep in my heart full of sorrow, And I fret, And I groan, And I grieve, For the burdensome sin I committed . . . (Cutting off Callimachus’s verbose plea and pushing him off him.) And you should! Your crime was grievous. God will not commute your sentence. (Holding the sword over Callimachus.) This may sting a little. (Still begging not to be killed, but closing his eyes so at least he doesn’t have to see it if it happens.) And I honestly pray you will cut me in two and unveil My entrails, my body’s rotting crypt, . . . Callimachus mimes opening up his body with his entrails spilling out. John looks disgusted and pulls back, but Andronicus urges him to go on and kill Callimachus.

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JOHN.

CALLIMACHUS.

JOHN. CALLIMACHUS. JOHN. CALLIMACHUS.

JOHN.

CALLIMACHUS.

Mark Damen

So you can see inside my bitterness, my anguish, know my sorrow, And for all of my sorrows, have sorrow for me! (Lowering the sword.) Sorrow? No, it gives me glee to see you weep, Since I sense your sanity restored in all this sadness. (Taking the sword from John and holding it at his own breast in an ostentatious paroxysm of grief and emotion, now, of course, that he’s safe from real sacrifice.) I cannot bear my former life, I cannot bear desire unrequited. (Taking the sword back from Callimachus, scolding.) There are laws concerning that. (Hanging his head.) I’m so sorry. Am I out of grace? Yes, and well you should be. That’s why I’m unhappy. Look at everything I’ve done. (Taking the sword again and threatening himself, melodramatically.) No more, no lust, no craving after life again for me! This time John shrugs and turns away. Andronicus beckons Callimachus to kill himself. (Suddenly cheerful.) Unless, of course, I might have life again in Christ and earn my way to something better, by changing. (At his wit’s end with Callimachus’s foolishness, taking the sword away from him and giving it to Andronicus.) How could anyone think that the spirit of God wasn’t in you? During the next speech Andronicus raises the sword to stab Callimachus in the back, but John stops him and glares at him. Callimachus is oblivious to all this. What are you waiting for, then? What’s taking you so long? I’ve fallen. Help me up! If a man is stricken, what but sympathy can lift his heart? Callimachus turns around to see John glaring in anger and assumes he is mad at him. (Shaking his head, gloomily.) Alright then, reproach me! Teach me what to do! Change a pagan to a Christian! Turn a fool to pure perfection,

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ANDRONICUS.

JOHN.

ANDRONICUS. JOHN.

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Make me someone different. Lead me with you down the path of Verity, So I can live according to the Lord’s pronounced forgiveness. John is about to upbraid Callimachus ferociously, when God steps forward and touches him gently as if to say “Now, be nice!” (In the ecstasy of divine inspiration, gathering Andronicus and Callimachus before him.) Blessed be the single Son of Heaven, The very One who shared our brittle world, Who broke you, Child, Callimachus, spared and slaughtered you And in your slaughter brought you life, So His genesis in death’s expression Would pass away to liberation of your mortal soul. (Shocked by John’s sudden transformation, to Callimachus.) This is certainly something that I’ve never witnessed before, And I’m really amazed. What’s it mean? (Pushing both men down to their knees, giving them his blessing.) O Christ, who is the world’s redemption! Sinners, you that bow before Him! What sort of praise pronounced on One like Him might I advance? (Pause.) I don’t know. (Filling time while he waits for divine inspiration which has now run out.) I tremble at Your kindness and Your mercy, Especially Your mercy, . . . (Looking down at Callimachus.) . . . and Your patience! Even with sinners, You come as a father would, tolerant, soothing at times. (Seeing the light.) Now, however, You come righteous and unbending, order penance, punishment. (To Callimachus, still confused.) I think he’s praising God for mercy. (Seating Callimachus by himself on a sarcophagus, looking to heaven for a sign.) Who would ever have believed it? Who would ever even hope

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JOHN.

DRUSIANA.

CALLIMACHUS.

Mark Damen

That this man, this notorious felon, So clotted with vice as he was, When death discovered him, And when it did, abducted him, Would see Your pity bring him back to life? Is Your mercy worth this reclamation? Callimachus opens his mouth wide to speak, but before he can. God waves His hand . . . SOUND: a bell tolls very loudly. (Taking the bell as a sign from God, recoiling in awe.) Blessed be the name of God eternal, For You alone astonish us with miracles. John turns to leave, but Andronicus stops him. Hold it, holy John! Might I also have some consolation? John tries to escape around Andronicus who stops him again. Not so quickly! (Guiding John back to Drusiana’s corpse.) My husband’s love of Drusiana Will not let me linger any longer but steers my mind To think of her and how at any moment now I might just see her sit right up alive again and . . . (Trying to think of the word “resurrect” but he can’t remember it.) ...go. John reluctantly stands over the body of Drusiana. (Waving his arms a little, with disbelief that this will work.) Drusiana, rise unto your Lord, . . . God waves His hand and Drusiana sits straight up, smiling. John and Andronicus leap back in shock. (Aghast that it happened so quickly and with such simple words.) Jesus Christ. (Beatifically.) I praise, I bless You, Christ, Who took and made me live again. (Gleefully embracing her, then fondling her as she looks around.) Those who undersign salvation, gracious thanks to you! You granted me my Drusiana back To relive, and to relish, Who for all your toils and desolation When you deceased and breathed your last . . .

Hrotsvit’s Callimachus and the Art of Comedy

DRUSIANA.

CALLIMACHUS.

JOHN.

CALLIMACHUS.

JOHN.

ANDRONICUS.

JOHN.

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(Pushing Callimachus away nicely but firmly.) That’s right. (To John.) But you, the holy, reverend Father John, now that you’ve resuscitated him, Callimachus, the one who tried to tempt me with illicit love, . . . (Pointing to Fortunatus.) Him, too, you should resuscitate, the man who sold my corpse. John looks confused. He is still recovering from the shock of her resurrection. (To John, interrupting forcefully—he doesn’t want Fortunatus to live again because Fortunatus could tell everyone how hard Callimachus begged to molest Drusiana’s body.) No! Have you no dignity? You’re the apostle of Christ! Make this body broker, This assassin, Free of chains and death? Absolve The one who led me into ruin, My seducer? I dared this dreadful deed because he said it was okay. God moves to touch John again and calm him down but John moves too fast and God misses. God shrugs and moves back. (Finally exploding in rage at Callimachus.) It’s not your place to judge him or deny The grace of heaven’s clemency. (Walking away, muttering to himself but loud enough still to make his point.) Well, I just don’t think he’s good enough for this. To resurrect A person who’s a self-confessed, established, public nuisance . . . (Following him, like an angry teacher.) By the word of our religious law it’s clear that man-to-man we must forgive each other, If anyone expects of God forgiveness, let us judge him not! (Joining heartily in the abuse of Callimachus just to abuse him.) Objection overruled. (Lecturing forcefully.) And there’s another reason, too: God’s is an only child, Ipso facto, He’s the virgin’s first-born son. Therefore, He alone is innocent, alone is stainless, He alone has none of this decaying age, its filth and crime on

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ANDRONICUS.

JOHN.

ANDRONICUS. JOHN.

CALLIMACHUS. JOHN.

DRUSIANA.

Mark Damen

Him, when He stepped into the world, And everybody else is sentenced to hard labor, for their sins they sweat. So He found us. (Knocking Callimachus on the head.) Case dismissed. And on top of that, though not one honest man, Not one of pity did He find deserving, No one either did He scorn, No one did His grace and piety abandon, No, it was Himself that He betrayed And His own beloved soul, before us all He offered it. (Right in Callimachus’s face.) If an innocent man hadn’t died, No one would have justice now. Or freedom. (To Andronicus who is going overboard in his abuse of Callimachus.) So, when it comes down to us humans, He delights in no perdition, Not for those at least that He’s already paid for with His precious blood. (Hitting Callimachus again.) And you should be grateful for that! (Taking Andronicus away from Callimachus and lecturing him.) And that is why when others want the grace of God, we should not despise them. After all, there may be no compelling reasons for His saving us. Just be happy that there’s grace enough to go around. (Under his breath, to himself, like a reluctant student.) What a terrifying lesson, teacher! (Turning back to Callimachus, angrily.) Is that what I seem to you? Fine! I won’t deny you what you want? He will not live again, . . . Drusiana stands up perplexed at John’s denial of her wish. Callimachus smirks smugly. . . . through me! Instead, through Drusiana! Callimachus’s expression changes to dismay. (To Drusiana.) This was your idea. God inspired this. Receive His grace. John steps back to watch, shaking his head and wearing a look of doubt. (In innocent excitement at her new responsibility.) God’s immortal being!

Hrotsvit’s Callimachus and the Art of Comedy

JOHN.

DRUSIANA.

FORTUNATUS.

JOHN. FORTUNATUS. JOHN. FORTUNATUS. JOHN.

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You without a real or single substance or a form, You made us in Your reflection, in a genesis Injected in a bit of breeze, a living breath. (Standing over Fortunatus.) Take this earthen form of Fortunatus, Fire him to life again! Reanimate his soul! Renew, reshape him, So there may be three of us resuscitated In Your name, to praise in turn, a trinity that no one will forget! John steps up to look at the body. It doesn’t move. (Shrugging.) So be it. John starts to leave but Drusiana stops him, as if to say “I’m not done yet.” (Kneeling over Fortunatus and taking her hand in his.) Wake and rise now, Fortunatus! He commands you, Christ! The nets of death, dismember them! Fortunatus still does not move. Drusiana rises and crosses to John who shrugs again. Drusiana smiles sweetly at him, turns and looks back at the body. As she does, God waves His hand and . . . SOUND: a bell tolls. .. . Fortunatus sits up straight suddenly. John falls back in shock. Drusiana sits down contently. Callimachus hides his face in his clothes, trying to avoid Fortunatus. (Disoriented.) Who? Me? Who take hand? Am I wake? Who talk? Make me live? No response. Everyone is still in shock at Drusiana’s miracle. Hey, what give? (To Drusiana.) Drusiana? (Mistaking John’s words as an answer to his question.) Oh, I am resuscertate by Drusiane? (To Andronicus.) She did it! Correct if mistake, but several day ago she sudden bite it, no? (Finally answering Fortunatus.) She did, and now she lives in Christ.

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FORTUNATUS.

JOHN.

FORTUNATUS. JOHN. FORTUNATUS.

JOHN.

Mark Damen

Oh. (Pointing to Callimachus.) So howcum is he sitting there, . . . (Pulling Callimachus’s clothes away from his face.) . . . Callimach, So frowning in face? You, blusher! Why not he is crazy, normal is, With love of her, woman here? (Coming to Callimachus’s rescue.) He’s dealt with his issues. He’s different now. He’s a true believer, Christ’s disciple. No? It’s true. If is, what you say, Drusiane resuscirect me And him, Callimachus, to Christ believing, This is living? I don’t want it. Where is dying? I take two. Much Would I prefer not to be Than be with all you so full, so total goodness grating. I . . . God raises His hand and waves it against Fortunatus. (A spasm of pain.) . . . feel . . . God waves His hand again. (A sharper spasm of pain.) . . . not so good. Fortunatus collapses in pain, quivering and writhing. (Recoiling in horror from Fortunatus.) See, the wonder of the devil and his jealousy! See, the evil of the serpent, old as time! In our prior genesis he gave us death for nourishment, And when in righteousness we triumphed he lamented. (Approaching Fortunatus out of curiosity, as he goes through contortions of agony.) And you, the most unlucky Fortunatus, In the devil’s bitter bile you drown. You are like some misshapen tree, With sorrowful fruit on your boughs. So, exempt from public life and righteous men, He’s now expelled from commerce with the just! Let him go forever to the flame of his infliction! Rack him! May the summer of his sins know no relief! God waves His hand and the snake reappears. Fortunatus continues to twitch with spasms of pain.

Hrotsvit’s Callimachus and the Art of Comedy

ANDRONICUS.

JOHN.

ANDRONICUS. JOHN. ANDRONICUS.

JOHN.

ANDRONICUS. JOHN.

ANDRONICUS. JOHN.

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(Rushing up to join John standing over Fortunatus.) Look at that! There’s something that’s starting to swell on him! It’s the snake! It’s biting him! And he’s dying again! He’s collapsing! Before we finish talking he’ll be dead. Fortunatus finally dies. Let him be then. Let him dwell in Hell. (A flash of inspiration.) It’s all because of other people. Envy made him throw away his life. (Not listening to John, looking at Fortunatus.) That’s terrible. What’s more terrible than envy? What’s more criminal than pride? (Agreeing just to agree, not having followed what John said before.) Both, it’s true, bring sorrow. (Lecturing oblivious to the others in the tomb.) One and the same. They are twins, each an accomplice in the other Vice’s crimes. Never is there one without the other. (Realizing a long lecture is about to happen, wryly.) I can see you’ve done research on this. I have. During the following speech, John walks around the tomb. He ends up next to Callimachus to whom he directs the last part of his lecture. In this lecture John is piecing together the day’s events for himself, so it should be directed to the persons on stage, not some abstract audience. A man who has pride will have envy, and he who has envy has pride. That’s the way jealousy warps the mind. When another merits praise, a jealous man can’t stand to hear it, For in comparing himself to them who are more perfect, he looks for a way to besmirch them, (To Andronicus.) Degrade them and make them all worthless just like himself, His pride will try to launch him even over friends. Okay but, . . . (Cutting Andronicus off and turning to Fortunatus’s body.) And that would explain this unfortunate man. He was damaged in mind. He believed he was better than them.

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JOHN.

ANDRONICUS. JOHN.

Mark Damen

He couldn’t stand it when the greater grace of God was shining here. Indeed, he never really saw it. Now I finally get it. When God informed us who would rise, Fortunatus wasn’t mentioned once, Because almost as fast as he came he was destined to die here again. And he deserves whatever deaths he died: for one, he took a consecrated corpse and exposed it to harm, . . . (To Callimachus.) . . . and for another these people returning to life he reviled And exposed them to malice. (To Callimachus too, menacingly.) And he clearly wasn’t happy when he died. (Pulling Andronicus away from Callimachus.) Let’s be on our way. Let the devil and his spawn alone. We still have this day so full of wonders, Callimachus’s transformation, With both of them returned to life. Let our joy direct us now, To give the thanks we owe to God. Just was His decision. All the characters except Fortunatus begin filing out, but John keeps on talking. All our secrets, hidden deep inside, He knows And He alone takes everything and carefully examines it, Everything He does is proven right in time, Everyone whoever for whatever He deserves, the eyes of God foresee, God rewards and punishes accordingly. And to Him alone belong the offices of virtue, courage, triumph Praise and jubilation, and in this millennium and in the next, eternal Affirmation! THE END

BIBLIOGRAPHY Primary Sources de Winterfield, Paulus. Hrotsvithae Opera. Berlin: Weidmann, 1965. Homeyer, H. Hrotsvithae Opera. Munich: Ferdinand Schöningh, 1970.

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Secondary Works Berg, Deena, and Douglass Parker. Plautus and Terence: Five Comedies. Indianapolis: Hackett, 1999. Bonfante, Larissa. The Plays of Hrotswitha of Gandersheim. Oak Park, Ill.: BolchazyCarducci, 1986. Butler, Mary Marguerite. Hrotsvitha: The Theatricality of Her Plays. New York: Philosophical Library, 1960. Dronke, Peter. Women Writers of the Middle Ages. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1984. Haight, Anne Lyon. Hroswitha of Gandersheim: Her Life, Times and Works, and a Comprehensive Bibliography. New York: Hroswitha Club, 1965. Page, D. L. Select Papyri. Vol. 3. Loeb Classical Library. Cambridge, Mass.: Harvard University Press, 1970. Schroeder, Peter. “Hroswitha and the Feminization of Drama.” In Women in Theatre, edited by James Redmond. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1989. Slater, Niall. Plautus in Performance. Princeton, N.J.: Princeton University Press, 1985. St. John, Christopher. The Plays of Roswitha. New York: Benjamin Bloom, 1923. Wiles, David. “Hrosvitha of Gandersheim: The Performance of Her Plays in the Tenth Century.” Theatre History Studies 19 (1999): 133–50. Wilson, Katharina. Medieval Women Writers. Athens: University of Georgia Press, 1984. ———. Hrotsvit of Gandersheim: The Ethics of Authorial Stance. Davis Medieval Texts and Studies 7. Leiden: E. J. Brill, 1988. ———. The Dramas of Hrotsvit of Gandersheim. New York: Garland, 1989.

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Sisters in the Literary Agon: Texts from Communities of Women on the Mortuary Roll of the Abbess Matilda of La Trinité, Caen1 Daniel Sheerin

Mortuary rolls were one of a class of instruments used by medieval religious communities (monasteries of men and of women, houses of other religious orders, cathedral chapters, etc.) to exchange news of deaths of members and associates and request prayers for the repose of their souls.2 A short formulaic notice (called breve or brevis) produced in multiple copies for distribution to allied religious communities sufficed to convey notice of the deaths of ordinary religious. But notice of the death of a prominent religious or layperson (bishops, abbots, abbesses, et al.) was conveyed by a far more elaborate instrument called a rotulus (usually called in English a “mortuary roll” or “obituary roll”), which was carried to religious communities in the region and, sometimes, far beyond, by a servant variously called the rolliger, rotulifer, rotularius, pellifer, and so forth.3 A mortuary roll is a scroll formed by stitching together multiple sheets of parchment. At the head of the scroll there was often a painting that depicted the corpse of the deceased resting on her/his deathbed or bier while the soul is being received into heaven.4 This was followed by the text of an encyclical letter from the originating community, which announced its subject’s death (presented as a universal consequence of the primal sin,5 etc.), praised his/her life in encomiastic, indeed, hagiographic terms, and concluded with a request for prayers for the repose of the deceased’s soul. Appendices to this fulsome obit might include a request for prayers for other deceased members and benefactors of the originating community, a request for hospitable treatment for the bearer of the scroll, and directions as to what the receiving communities should inscribe on the scroll upon receipt. They were to inscribe a titulus (⫽ formal entry) that would identify their community, confirm their receipt of the roll (with, perhaps, a note of the date), indicate explicitly or implicitly their readiness to comply with the scroll’s 93

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request for prayers, and request reciprocal prayers for their own community, perhaps appending a list. A few lines from a verse invective addressed to a roll-carrier ascribed to the famous poet Marbod of Rennes (ca. 1035–1123) describe, in parody, the arrival of the roll-carrier with his rotulus: What have you to do with the living, foulest denizen of the pit, henchman of Pluto, ambassador of annihilation? Why do you keep distressing us, repeating your vexing calls? “Assemble the community! Groan and shed your tears! Toll the bells and wail like the Corybantes! Get songs of lament for your keening choir! Compose mournful poems; note down your place and the date! Take care of my costs and set me a good table!”6

Marbod’s mention of composing poems for the mortuary roll brings up the literary aspects of texts inscribed on mortuary rolls. These texts deserve far more attention than they have received. For, just as the many specimens of writing on extant scrolls are a repertory of coeval scripts of known provenance, a resource exploited by paleographers, so too the compositions inscribed on the rolls provide an otherwise unavailable sampling of literary production, albeit of a very circumscribed type, within a particular region at a specific time. The encyclical obituaries written by the originating communities are highly wrought, sometimes pretentious eulogies whose composition presented the rhetorical challenge of combining a virtually hagiographic encomium of the deceased with the required request for prayers for her/his soul’s well-being in the life to come. The tituli of the receiving communities show far greater variety in literary ambition and quality, varying from manifestations of simple literacy to extravagant displays or affectations of literary culture. The elaborated entries from earlier in the eleventh century favor the use of rhythmic, even rhyming prose, often with a preference for recherché vocabulary. The fashion for artistic prose gives way in the later eleventh and first half of the twelfth centuries to a vogue for the inclusion of one or more poems in the titulus.7 But soon, by the second half of the twelfth century, there emerged a severe retrenchment in the degree of elaboration tolerated in tituli, and from that period on they become almost uniformly terse prose notices, indeed, virtual formulae.8 The ensemble of texts surviving from the Matilda Roll is an artifact from the period of most intense literary elaboration of the mortuary roll.9 More important for present purposes is the fact that the Matilda Roll contains a greater number of entries of some literary ambition originating in communities of women than any other mortuary roll,10 and it is to a consideration of these texts within the context of mortuary roll literature that we will now turn.

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The first and most ambitious of these compositions is the obituary that the nuns of La Trinité placed on their abbess’s scroll, so let us deal first with the Abbess Matilda and her community of La Trinité of Caen.11 Her obituary reports that the Abbess Matilda died on 6 July 1113 after directing her monastery for the fifty-four years since its foundation.12 La Trinité, the Abbaye-aux-Dames of Caen, was, as the obituary notice boasts, the joint foundation of William the Conqueror and his consort, Matilda. It was, in a sense, the twin of William’s foundation for men in Caen—Saint-Étienne, the Abbaye-aux-Hommes—and it was equally well endowed.13 The future abbess Matilda must have come from an aristocratic, if not royal family, and had been earlier the abbess at the abbey of SaintLéger-de-Préaux of Liseux, whence Queen Matilda brought her to be, as the obituary says, the “prima . . . mater” of the new foundation.14 The abbess is likely to have brought with her a few nuns from Saint-Léger-de-Préaux,15 but La Trinité did its own recruiting and drew most of its complement from the upper echelon of the Norman aristocracy.16 Chief of these was, as the obituary notice proclaims, Cecilia, a daughter of William and Matilda, who was presented as an oblate on the occasion of the dedication of La Trinité.17 Cecilia eventually became a grand figure among monastic women, the honored recipient of verse offerings from Baudri of Bourgeuil and Hildebert of Le Mans.18 In the Abbess Matilda’s declining years Cecilia aided in her able administration of the abbey’s properties,19 providing, along with some other senior sisters, the help St. Anselm advised the aged abbess to seek from her community.20 The Cathedral of Nantes concluded the poem in its entry on the Matilda Roll (No. 104) with this recommendation to the sisters of La Trinité: Let Cecilia, daughter of the king, be made abbess of the flock; that will be the very best possible course. Phoebus, though he sees all things, sees no woman more brightly radiant, more appropriate for this role.21

Cecilia did succeed Matilda and governed as abbess until her death in 1127. Thus the Abbess Matilda presided over what was from its foundation and would long continue to be the premier abbey for women in the Anglo-Norman realm. The obituary of Abbess Matilda on her mortuary roll reflects, in both content and form, La Trinité’s pride in its standing in the monastic world and in its founding abbess. Distributed through the some 223 surviving entries from the Matilda Roll are nineteen from communities of women that contain poems, some of them multiple poems, of which most are included in this selection.22 But can we be sure that all the poems in the entries by communities of women religious on the Matilda Roll were composed by women? Could some have been written by clerics in the service of the nuns, such as the canons at La Trinité itself, or at Notre-Dame of

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Saintes? Could they be the work even of a known poet like Hilary of Orléans, who served as a canon attached to the abbey of Le Ronceray?23 We can be sure in the case of the two poems from communities of women on the Matilda Roll that bear explicit notice of female authorship. In No. 11, from Nunnaminster, Winchester, one poem is said to be the work of a niece of, presumably, the Abbess Matilda, “Versus cujusdam neptis suae.” In No. 144, from Notre-Dame de Saintes, we find compositions labeled “Versus abbatissae.” But in the case of the rest of the poems, as well as of the obituary notice from La Trinité, one must argue from probability. The period during which the Matilda Roll circulated was the era in the history of monasticism in France and England in which we are most likely to find numbers of monastic women trained in literature and composition. Evidence of verse composition by women from this culture, though limited, is very suggestive. The nun-poet of Wilton Abbey, Muriel, was addressed as their poetic peer in poems by Baudri, Hildebert, and Serlo of Bayeux.24 Peter Dronke has argued that the poem ascribed to the nun Constance in the Baudri-Constance poetic exchange is her work.25 Moreover, references in works by well-known male poets to compositions by women, and poems sent to women with the expectation of a reply, are numerous enough to be regarded as more than mere flatteries. For example, Baudri ends a paraenetic poem to the young nun Agnes with a request for a reply in verse.26 Another poem indicates that he has read poems from the nun Emma and requests a poetic exchange,27 as he also requests an exchange of poems with the nun Beatrix.28 Hilary of Orléans, while serving as one of the canon-chaplains of the abbey of women of Le Ronceray in the first quarter of the twelfth century, addressed to nuns there three poetic addresses that invite a reply in verse.29 These and other instances like them strongly suggest the actuality of literary training and achievement among some religious women. How do the poems from communities of women compare with those from communities of men on the Matilda Roll? In form, they are indistinguishable from those produced by their brothers. The corpus of poems on the Matilda Roll shows great variation in length, from a single verse to the sixty-five verses of the poem provided by Saint-Vivien of Saintes (No. 143, a long anti-Cluniac invective, with four final lines of compliment to Matilda as an afterthought). However, most of the poems are brief, and the pieces provided in this selection give an idea of the average lengths. Most poems on the roll are composed in hexameters or elegiac distichs, the workaday quantitative meters.30 They exhibit the licenses and occasional lapses usual in medieval quantitative verse, and the sisters are no more or less offending than their brethren in this sphere. Likewise, the sisters’ poems reveal a taste for the ornaments popular with other writers of the era, for, while a few poems on the roll are unadorned by rhyme (e.g., No. 147 in the selection printed here), the vast majority are embellished with some sort of rhyme.31 The two exceptions to the routine of hexameter and elegiac couplet in this selection,

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No. 180, written in tripertiti dactylici, and No. 217 in rhythmic trochaic dimeters, are not, however, unusual, for they find their counterparts among poems from men’s communities.32 There are poems on the roll with contrived verbal ornamentation, for example, No. 46, from St. Benet Hulme, which ends each of its eight lines with the deceased’s name in polyptoton (in multiple cases), and this sort of contrivance finds an analogue in one poem from a community of women, No. 11C, which employs antistrophe throughout, ending each line with the vocative Maria. In content, too, most poems in the entries from communities of women are indistinguishable from the products from men’s communities, for they offer the limited repertoire of motifs of compliment, consolation, intercession, and even celebration that are standard on mortuary rolls. Many poems from male communities exhibit classical, biblical, patristic, and liturgical quotations and allusions, and the writings from communities of women do not lack these ornaments (see notes). While a number of poems on the roll are messages addressed to the nuns of La Trinité, some few take the form of or include apostrophe to the deceased Abbess herself, but this apostrophizing occurs in the entries of communities both of men (Nos. 1, 2, 41B, 42, 43, 50) and of women (Nos. 11B, 18, 212). But there are a few exceptions to this homogeneity that point to the origin of a poem in a community of women. Notre Dame of Jouarre (No. 198) celebrates the heavenly reward reserved only for consecrated virgins as “the ultimate consolation for our struggles.” Other communities of women claim Matilda as teacher or exemplar (Nos. 11B, 18, 144A). Two poems provide specific details that connect their communities, actually or affectively, with La Trinité. The nuns of SaintLéger-de-Préaux (No. 66) claim the Abbess Matilda as a sometime member of their community; the nuns of Notre-Dame of Soissons (No. 174) make much of the fact that the deceased Abbess of Caen and their own young abbess share the same name, expressing the hope that the two Matildas will enjoy the same reward. Some entries from communities of women express sentiments that are anomalous, to say the least. The second poem in No. 98, the entry of SaintGeorges, Rennes, praises Matilda, but complains of a vicious daughter, and leaves us, if not the nuns of La Trinité and other readers, wondering just who was meant (see note on this poem). The poem in the entry of the sisters of Saint-Ausone of Angoulême, No. 147, celebrates the perennial tension between older and younger women, but with amatory references that sound more like Ovidian elegiacs than Benedictine elegy. This poem bears, perhaps by way of excuse, the legend “Again, verses composed after a few glasses of wine,” but No. 217, the entry of Saint-Julien of Auxerre, in rowdy rhythmic trochaic dimeter, is more specific in its first-person expression of a shared grievance of younger women against tyrannical superiors, and its author alleges no such excuse. Nos. 147 and 217 are contrary to expectation and pose an interpretive challenge. Are they authentic, if

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droll, statements of grievance and hostility or simply displays of wit, however tasteless? Is the amor here a matter of conventional gallantry, of romantic love between young women and men, nuns and laywomen resident at the abbey and young noblemen or clerics, or do these poems allude to amatory relationships between young women? Mortuary rolls from the period of literary elaboration combine elements of the performative and of performance, and as performance they constituted entries in a kind of agon or competition that took place on the mortuary rolls. Those who inscribed their words upon them were competing, not with ancient saints in ascetic practices or with classical masters of verse composition, but with other religious communities and with the clerical and monastic poets who represented them in their entries on the mortuary rolls. The inscription and circulation of a mortuary roll by the originating community was performative of the roll’s more obvious, explicit function, but the roll made a series of related claims as well. The roll made a claim to the originating community’s confraternal rights as a member of the larger society of the professionally religious. The obituary notice inscribed on it often manifested the community’s sense of its own prestige (or claims thereto), and, through its literary ornaments, it made a claim to the regard due to the community for its cultural attainments and for its having done what was expected in an exemplary way. Thus the obituary placed by the sisters of La Trinité at the head of the Matilda Roll was performative of the duty owed by the community to its deceased abbess. But it goes far beyond this minimum and becomes performance in its elaborate assertions of the prestige of the distinguished abbess, of the ducal and royal foundation of her monastery, and of the presence within the community of a member of the royal family and, when listing the dead, of other daughters of the Norman aristocracy. The obituary notice was, in addition, a medium suited to its message, being a performance in Latin prose composition, written in rhythmic prose throughout and replete with biblical, patristic, and liturgical allusions. Similarly, inscription of a titulus by a receiving community was an official act that involved a performative use of language to express compliance with the requests presented by the mortuary roll by the receiving communities, whether by explicit statement or, implicitly, by the act of inscription. But the titulus also identified the subscribing community, thus renewing its claim to membership in the larger society of the professionally religious and to a certain standing in that society, a standing implied by the renown of its name or by items included in the entry, such as reference to the patron saint or to distinguished deceased members or benefactors. However, claim to status is one thing. Performance commensurate with that status is another and performance comes into play in the literary embellishment and elaboration of the tituli. Performance, of course, implies an audience, and inscription of a composition on a mortuary roll, whether an obituary notice or a literary titulus in prose or verse, was as near to having their work “published” as

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most of those trained in composition in the eleventh and twelfth centuries would ever come. For at a time when mere preservation of one’s literary efforts could be insured only with a great deal of trouble and expense, guaranteed circulation of a specimen of one’s work through a large number of the communities that constituted the centers of education and culture in one’s region offered an unparalleled opportunity for publication. We are invited to view the literary entries on mortuary rolls as agonistic for the following reasons as well: (1) there is an antecedent probability that their authors and readers would have viewed “publication” of a literary composition as an assertive/competitive act, (2) the limited range of subject matter and their juxtaposition on the scroll would surely have invited comparison between poems; and (3) one encounters tell-tale marks of performance in the disclaimers of performance in some poems and in the virtuoso denunciation of bravura performance that occur in others.33 But do we have here the makings of a truly literary agon? No one would advance claims of literary distinction for most of the compositions on mortuary rolls, and studies of literary agonistics usually have to do with an assumption of competition between worthy later writers and the classical authors of the past in a literature of reception and emulation.34 But in the mortuary rolls we are dealing not with divine poesy but rather with an occasional literature, with literature as a status-marker and vehicle of cultural and sociopolitical intercourse in an implicitly competitive mode, with texts produced by people for whom composition of Latin verse was not usually a vocation, but an accomplishment incidental to, but also representative of, their education and role within their communities. Esteemed writers of the period, such as Marbod of Rennes (ca. 1035–1123), Baudri of Bourgeuil (1046–1130), and Hildebert of Lavardin (1056–1133), composed poems for mortuary rolls that survive among their collected poems, but these too constitute occasional exercises in commonplace and differ perhaps only in polish from the verses of contemporary poetasters.35 Literary performance and anonymity do not go well together, and a mortuary roll would be more obviously a vehicle for publication of literary efforts if the poems are signed. The great majority of the compositions on the Matilda Roll bear no indication of authorship, although we do find on the roll a number of authors’ names, actual or virtual.36 But even anonymous compositions on a mortuary roll are not altogether anonymous, for they are inscribed under the name of the community of which their author was, presumably, a member, and thus the literary composition is effectively the community’s entry in the literary agon of the mortuary roll.37 This last point is of great importance in our assessment of the poems from communities of women on the Matilda Roll as women’s writing. In most cases one listens in vain for an obviously female voice in the form and content of the poems and looks in vain, as well, for an identifiable female author. But these poems are “gendered” in a sense by their site of origin, as indicated by the titulus

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that begins the entry on the roll. Famous communities will have been known to be female; less well-known communities will have been known to be female at least by other communities in the same region. Another indication of the community’s gender is provided by lists of female monastic superiors and the preponderance of female names in the roll of the dead. In some cases (Nos. 144, 180, 207, 217) the titulus identifies the community as a religious house of women. This brings us, finally, to ask if the assertiveness, the entry into competition by the nuns of La Trinité and of the other communities of women who provided literary entries on the Matilda Roll, evoked any response from members of male communities who would have read them? Most of the poems in entries from communities of men are duly respectful, some even gracious, but there is a substantial minority that are strikingly discordant.38 The extent and virulence of misogyny exhibited on the Matilda Roll is far greater than one would expect to encounter anywhere except in an out-and-out misogynistic invective. This is not the place to go into these misogynistic poems in detail, but I will attempt a summary review of the misogynistic themes because, I think, they represent one aspect of the reception of the compositions by the women monastics on the Matilda Roll. One entry, that of the Cathedral of Auxerre (No. 218), contains a poem that expresses stark hostility toward the nuns: Only a fool laments if nuns have occasion to suffer for one dead nun; a thousand are in reserve to take her place. If death did not snatch some away from the number of nuns, the whole world could not accommodate their multitude.

Aggressiveness toward the sisters is more obliquely expressed in the very extensive and sometimes abusive use of the commonplace forbidding of excessive mourning,39 in expressions of general animosity toward women,40 in expressions of particular animosity toward older women,41 and in the raising of doubts about women’s capacity for holiness.42 These attitudes are commonly linked to and manifested by assertions of the appropriateness of a woman’s dying because of the derivation of death from the archetypal woman, Eve.43 One example that incorporates several of these themes will have to serve to represent all, namely, the poem of the students of Bath in entry No. 28: Voice of the Students of the Same City Why do you rave, o nuns? Why this fondness for idle verse? Tell what is the matter, then, O state the matter plainly. Why do you burden us with a cheek-chattering load of talk? Why do you waste our time, and brandish windy words, and stitch on poems and childish laments?

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So death, though overdue, has invaded an old woman’s veins? Aren’t you ashamed, really, to enjoin tears on us because an old biddy is gone, because a woman suffered death? Surely it’s only right that a woman endure the lot of death, for it was a woman’s urging that introduced death. I note also that you boast she lives in heaven, and you have no doubt that hers is a throne of glory in the kingdom. So you see how unreasonable it is for you to grieve over your lady when she rejoices. Therefore, I advise, set a bound to your grief, and clap your hands and sing joyful praises. But if you loose the reins of tears for her, I feel this must be attributed to envy, not to real grief. For if death is an evil, it’s right that a woman suffer it; if a good, a good woman does not take it as a misfortune.

Another much more specific criticism, whether born of gender bias or ungendered envy, was directed by the poem in the entry of the Cathedral of Sens (No. 216) against Matilda’s obituary. It had included oblique allusions to Sulpicius Severus’s account of the death of St. Martin of Tours, and it concluded with an explicit comparison of the funeral of the abbess to the funeral of St. Martin.44 The students of the cathedral school of Sens object to this comparison because they see it as an effort to equate Matilda with St. Martin. Note that they seem to assume that Matilda’s obituary was composed by a male: Student verses. Pontius the Teacher This prologue does not provide a likely account when it awards Matilda a cortege like Martin’s. Words are credible when they correspond to reality, but they fail when they steal what is not theirs. Everyone knows that Martin was radiant with miracles and that he restored life to the dead by his prayers. Matilda’s repute for sanctity has not yet reached many places, and has sprung from devout fabrications and poetry alone. So who was the rash fellow who compared her to him?45 What entreaty, what bribe (alas!) drew him to this crime? May Christ spare him, and the blessed Martin himself as well, and may the guilt incurred by his speech not damn him. But on behalf of Matilda, whom the nuns lament, their spiritual brothers pour out prayers to God. May her soul be pleasing to the coming Spouse whom, ‘tis said, she served in life with ready will.

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Gerald Bond has remarked on the fact that the Matilda Roll “offers unique testimony about the conflicting images of woman in the early twelfth century, since many of the contributors to the document were women themselves.”46 We can say as well that the Matilda Roll offers a remarkable manifestation of the literary activity of religious women in this period and a unique view of the reaction of the dominant male religious culture to women’s assertiveness expressed through writing. The view of this reaction is unique because, of course, we cannot judge how extraordinary the manifestations of misogyny on the Matilda Roll may have been, for we have no comparanda, that is, no other extant mortuary rolls for abbesses from this period. But it may be stimulating at least to speculate that the misogynistic outbursts in poems by men on the Matilda Roll may be due in part to the self-confident written presence on the scroll of the women of La Trinité and of the other communities of women represented in the tituli.

NOTES 1.

The text of the mortuary roll of the Abbess Matilda (hereinafter called the Matilda Roll) was published by Léopold Delisle, Rouleaux des morts du IXe au XVe siècle, Société de l’histoire de France, vol. 135 (Paris: J. Renouard, 1866), pp. 178–278; references to items on the Matilda Roll will be by the numbers assigned by Delisle to the successive entries and/or by page number in Delisle’s edition. 2. N. Huyghebaert, Les documents nécrologiques, Typologie des sources du moyen âge fasc. 4 (Turnhout, Belgium: Brepols, 1972), provides an overview of these instruments. 3. See Huyghebaert, Les documents nécrologiques, pp. 4, 10–11, 26–32, but especially Jean Dufour, “Les rouleaux des morts,” in Codicologica 3: Essais typologiques, ed. A. Gruys and J. P. Gumbert (Leiden: E. J. Brill 1980), pp. 96–100, and materials cited there. The main published collection of texts from mortuary rolls is Delisle’s Rouleaux des morts. Delisle also published an update of his earlier essay “Des monuments paléographiques concernant l’usage de prier pour les morts,” with a list of the mortuary rolls known at that time, as a preface to the photo-facsimile of the mortuary roll of Vitalis of Savigny (Rouleau mortuaire de B. Vital, abbé de Savigny, Edition phototypique [Paris: Librairie H. Champion, 1909]). According to Dufour (p. 98), the current tally of mortuary rolls and similar documents surviving in some form and extent is 320; of these, some 160 are remnants of the original rolls. 4. See, for example, the paintings from (according to Raine, p. xxi) the mortuary roll of John Hemmingborough, prior of Durham (d. 1416), reproduced in The Obituary Roll of William Ebchester and John Burnby, Priors of Durham, ed. James Raine, Publications of the Surtees Society, vol. 31 (Durham: Surtees Society, 1856), pls. I–III. Several lines in poems entered on the Matilda Roll suggest that it bore such a painting: “Signat pictura quia non est mors nocitura” (No. 2, line 1); “Abbatissae psalmi, missae, conferent suffragia, / Non scriptura vel pictura rotuli, quem bajulas” (No. 122A, lines 4–5); and “Sed cum pictura tibi testificante litura” (No. 209, line 5).

Sisters in the Literary Agon 5.

6.

7.

8.

9.

10. 11.

103

Derivation of death from the sin of Adam and Eve was so common in obituaries and entries on mortuary rolls that Baudri of Bourgeuil was prompted to begin a poem he wrote for a mortuary roll with the complaint: “On the roll, many, with a kind of anxious care, / invariably start their long discourse with Adam. / But while lamenting the sin of the firstformed, / too often they stitch on a lot of pointless elaborations. / But it’s for Noel the Abbot that now we must speak, / and so must add to the texts something of real benefit. . . .” Baldricus Burgulianus Carmina, ed. Karlheinz Hilbert (Heidelberg: Carl Winter Universitätsverlag, 1979), p. 44. From Ad nuntium mortis (PL 171:1672D–1773B). Compare the less-spirited Invectio in rolligerum of Baudri of Bourgeuil (Hilbert, pp. 50–51), and note the multiple references to, addresses to, and abuse of the roll-carrier on the Matilda Roll, Nos. 92, 122, 123A, 125A, 150. In addition to the Matilda Roll, to be discussed shortly, the principal monuments from this period are the mortuary rolls of Guifred, sometime count of Cerdagne and monk of Canigou (d. 1050, original no longer extant, texts from seventeenthcentury copy in Delisle, Rouleaux des morts, pp. 49–133); of St. Bruno, founder of the Carthusians (d. 1101, original no longer extant, texts from seventeenthcentury copy in PL 152: 553–606), and of Vitalis, abbot of Savigny (d. 1122; original extant, photo-facsimile in Delisle, Rouleau mortuaire de B. Vital, text in Delisle, Rouleaux des morts, pp. 282–344). Useful comparanda to the elaborate entries of the Matilda Roll are the formulaic entries on the mortuary roll of a later abbess of La Trinité, Marie de Wargnies (d. 1404), published by R. N. Sauvage, “Rouleau mortuaire de Marie, Abbesse de La Trinité de Caen,” Bibliothèque de l’École des Chartes 71 (1910): 49–57. The scroll itself is no longer extant, but most of it texts survive in a copy that was prepared for Jean Mabillon (B.N. MS lat. 12652 ff 87–132) and served as the basis of Delisle’s edition. The scroll had been preserved at La Trinité and is reported to have been 20.5 meters in length, with entries from some 253 religious houses, but the original was probably destroyed along with other ancient documents hidden in 1790 in the vault of the church to avoid their confiscation. (See Maylis Baylé, La Trinité de Caen: Sa place dans l’histoire de l’Architecture et du decor Romans, Bibliothèque de la Société française d’archéologie 10 (Geneva: Droz, 1979), pp. 11–12, and materials cited there. Jean Dufour (“Les rouleaux des morts,” p. 100) has remarked on the valuable evidence of the culture of communities of women provided by mortuary rolls. Principal recent contributions to the early history of La Trinité are Lucien Musset, Les Actes du Guillaume le Conquérant et de la Reine Mathilde pour les abbayes caennaises, Mémoires de la Société des Antiquaires de Normandie 37 (Caen: Société des Antiquaires de Normandie, 1967), pp. 43–47; Baylé, La Trinité de Caen, chap. 1, “La Fondation de l’Abbaye-aux-Dames,” pp. 11–18; John Walmsley, “The Early Abbesses, Nuns and Female Tenants of the Abbey of Holy Trinity, Caen,” Journal of Ecclesiastical History 48 (1997): 425–44. A list of the early abbesses of Caen has been provided by Margorie Chibnall, Charters and Custumals of the Abbey of Holy Trinity Caen, Records of Social and Economic History NS 5 (London: The British Academy, 1982), pp. 139–40.

104 12.

13.

14.

15. 16.

17.

18.

19.

Daniel Sheerin Ordericus Vitalis calculates Matilda’s tenure at forty-seven years (Historia ecclesiastica 7.9, in The Ecclesiastical History of Ordericus Vitalis, 6 vols., ed. Margorie Chibnall [Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1969–1980], 4:46), but Delisle attributes this discrepancy to Orderic’s dating Matilda’s tenure from the first dedication of the monastery church on 18 June 1066 and the Matilda Roll’s dating it from the actual foundation of the monastery in 1059, and this explanation has been accepted; see Musset, p. 14, Baylé, p. 12; Elisabeth M. C. Van Houts, The Gesta Normannorum Ducum of William of Jumiège, Ordericus Vitalis, and Robert of Torigni, 2 vols. (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1992–1995), 1: 48n2. See Walmsley, “Early Abbesses,” pp. 428–29; note the remark of Cassandra Potts about political significance of the twin foundations: “By building a new castle and establishing their two new abbeys at Caen, William and Matilda signaled their determination to make this town their second capital in the duchy” (Monastic Revival and Regional Identity in Early Normandy Studies in the History of Medieval Religion 11 [Woodbridge: The Boydell Press, 1997], p. 77). Jean Mabillon (Annales O.S.B., Book 72, chap. 36) mentions the possibility of Matilda’s royal connections on the basis of three suggestions of this in poems on the Matilda Roll. She is described as “regia progenies” (No. 125C, v. 26), “regali stirpe creata” (No. 139A, v. 4), and “Regibus orta” (No. 215B, v. 9), but it is hard to imagine that the nuns of La Trinité would not have mentioned such a distinction in their obituary letter. The entry of the abbey at Saint-Léger-de-Préaux on the Matilda Roll (No. 66, included below) is the unique source reporting that the Abbess Matilda began her monastic career there. See Walmsley, “Early Abbesses,” p. 435. See Musset, pp. 47–48, who provides parallel lists of the names of the deceased of La Trinité from the Matilda Roll and the names of nuns of La Trinité known from other archival material. Also see Walmsley, pp. 435–36, who identifies the various ways these women were related to prominent figures of the Norman aristocracy. Cecilia is the last of their gifts mentioned in the consecration charter presented by William and Matilda to La Trinité: “Moreover, the aforesaid right glorious Count and his wife, along with their children, have offered to God on this same day their daughter, Cecilia by name, that she may serve perpetually in the habit of religious life in the same place, viz. of the divine Trinity, by whose gift they realize they have offspring as well as the other good things of life” (Musset, No. 2, pp. 56–57). Baylé (p. 15) suggests that another daughter of William and Matilda, Adela, who died in childhood, may have been a resident with her sister Cecilia at La Trinité and been buried there. Baudri No. 136: “Cecilie regis Anglorum filie” (Hilbert, pp. 188–89). Hildebert wrote to her after she had succeeded as abbess; his letter concludes, “May it not embarrass you, O queen, that I sing your praises, / and may you endure my calling you my Lady” (Versus ad Ceciliam abbatissam Cathomi, No. 46 in Hildeberti Cenomannensis episcopi carmina minora, ed. Brian Stock [Leipzig: Teubner, 1969], p. 37). See Walmsley, “Early Abbesses,” pp. 428, 431–32. For some examples, see the grant of a fief (Musset, No. 25 [dated 1079X1101], p. 135), which begins:

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20.

21. 22.

23.

24.

25. 26. 27. 28. 29.

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“Matilda, abbess of La Trinité, and the Lady Cecilia, daughter of the King, with the agreement of the entire community of this church, have granted to the Abbot of Saint-Étienne . . .”, and a pancarte dated 1109–113 (Musset, No. 27, p. 138) where one Humphrey “. . . has sworn homage to the monastery upon the text of the gospels and to the Abbess and to the Lady Cecilia and to the entire community.” St. Anselm, Ep. 298 (dated c. 1103), S. Anselmi opera omnia ed. F. S. Schmitt (Edinburgh: Thomas Nelson, 1949) 4: 219.12–15; the grant to Saint-Étienne cited earlier (Musset, No. 25, p. 135) reports: “Present at this meeting, on the part of Sainte-Trinité were: the Lady Cecilia, Rosa, Matilda de Gornay. . . .” Delisle, Rouleaux des morts, p. 224. The following is a list of the entries with the number of verses; multiple poems in an entry are identified by A, B, etc.: No 11. Nunnaminster, Winchester: A. 10vv.; B. 8vv.; C. 12vv; No. 13. Sts. Mary and Melor, Amesbury: 2 vv.; No. 18. Sts. Mary and Edmund, Shaftsbury: 12 vv.; No. 62. Notre-Dame, Liseux: 9vv.; No. 66. Saint-Léger-de-Préaux: 10vv.; No. 72. Notre-Dame, Montvilliers: 8vv.; No. 80. Saint-Paul, Rouen: 4vv.; No. 98. Saint-Georges, Rennes: A. 10vv, B. 7 vv.; No. 121. Notre-Dame, Beaumont: 4vv.; No. 141, Saint-Julien du Pré: 14vv.; No. 144. Notre-Dame, Saintes: A. 20 vv.; B. 20vv.; C. 20 vv.; No. 147. Saint-Ausone, Angoulême: 8vv.; No. 174. Notre-Dame, Soissons: 10vv.; No. 180. Saint-Pierre, Avenay: 9vv.; No. 184. Notre-Dame, Argenteuil: A. 4vv.; B. 5vv.; No. 187. Sainte-Batilde and Notre-Dame, Chelles: 9vv.; No. 198. Notre-Dame, Jouarre: 8vv.; No. 202. S. Pierre-aux-Dames, Reims: 6vv.; No. 207. Notre-Dame, Troyes: 10vv.; No. 217. Saint-Julien, Auxerre: 8vv. At La Trinité there were four canons to serve the nuns and the adjacent church of St. Giles, a burial church for the poor (see Musset, Les actes, pp. 95–98; Hugh Feiss (“A Poet Abbess from Notre-Dame de Saintes,” Magistra 1 [1995]: 38–54) points out the presence of a canon who served both the nuns and a parish attached to the community, but vindicates the abbess’s claim to the verses ascribed to her (pp. 46–47); for Hilary and La Ronceray see below and note 29. On Muriel, see Hildebert . . . opera minora, XXVII, ed. A. B. Scott, and the works cited there; Baudri’s poem is #137 (ed. Hilbert, pp. 189–90), Hildebert’s is #26 (Stock, pp. 17–18), Serlo’s is in The Anglo-Latin Satirical Poets and Epigrammatists of the Twelfth Century, Chronicals and Memorials of Great Britain and Ireland during the Middle Ages 59, ed. Thomas Wright (London: Longmans, 1872), 2: 233–40. Baudri #s 200–201; Peter Dronke, Women Writers of the Middle Ages (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1984), pp. 84–90. Hilbert No. 138.37–38: Interea mitto nostra de parte ‘ualeto’ / Tuque michi mittas uersibus, ut ualeam. Hilbert No. 139.13, 37–38; No. 153 “Emme vt opus suum perlegat.” Hilbert No. 140.5–6, 25–26. Walther Bulst and M. L. Bulst-Thiele, eds., “Hilarii Aurelianensis Versus et Ludi,” Mittellateinische Studien und Texte 16 (Leiden: E. J. Brill, 1989), No. II, sta 3–4 (p. 26), No. III, sta 14 (p. 28), No. IV, sta 8 (p. 28); see Therese Latzke, “Zum ‘Iudicium de calumnia molendini Brisearte’ und zu den vier Nonnenepisteln des Hilarius,” Mittellateinisches Jahrbuch 16 (1981): 73–96.

106 30.

31.

32. 33.

34.

35.

36.

Daniel Sheerin See A. G. Rigg, “Metrics,” in Medieval Latin: An Introduction and Bibliographical Guide ed. F. A. C. Mantello and A. G. Rigg (Washington, D.C.: Catholic University of America Press, 1996), pp. 106–10, esp. 106–7 on the medieval Latin hexameter. The rhyming quantitative verses are either leonini, with rhyme between the hemistichs of individual verses (e.g., in this selection Nos. 11A, 13, 18, 62, 66, 72, 121, 144C, 174, 187, 198, 202, 207), or caudati, with rhyme between the conclusions of successive verses (e.g., in this selection Nos. 11B, 13, 80, 98, 141, 144A, 144B). Two poems in this selection (Nos. 18 and 202) are noteworthy as instances where the rhyme pattern is disturbed by classical quotations. More unusual poetic forms on the Matilda Roll are the attempt at Sapphic stanzas in No. 213, and the rhythmical iambic dimeters in No. 182. Note the versified denunciations of the superfluity of writing and poetry on mortuary rolls in the following entries on the Matilda Roll: Nos. 11B, 28, 40, 46, 76B, 94, 140, 141, 150, 170, 189, 194, 215A, 220; see also, on the fragmentary mortuary roll of Hugh I, abbot of Saint-Amand, the priggish prose entry of Cluny (Delisle, Rouleaux des morts, 165), on the mortuary roll of Vitalis of Savigny, the entry of the abbey of Saint-Germer de Flay (No. 34, ibid., 297), a model of this kind of denunciation, and on the mortuary roll of Robert, abbot of Saint-Aubin of Angers, Nos. 22C and 26; see also Marbod’s “Reprehensio superfluorum in epitaphio Joannis abbatis” (PL 171: 1675) and Baudri’s “In rotulo Natalis abbatis” (Hilberg, No. 14). See, for example, William Fitzgerald’s work Agonistic Poetry: The Pindaric Mode in Pindar, Horace, Holderlin, and the English Ode (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1987). Marbod Nos. XLI, XLII, XLIII (PL 171: 1674); Baudri (Hilbert), Nos. 14, 17, 18, 22, 72, 73; Hildebert (see list in Joseph Szövérffy, Secular Latin Lyrics and Minor Poetic Forms of the Middle Ages, 4 vols. [Concord: Classical Folia Editions, 1992–1994], 2:115–116); Ordericus Vitalis (Historia ecclesiastica 8.8, ed. M. Chibnall, 4:170) reports that Anselm composed a memorial poem about Lanfranc for a scroll, “Beccensis autem Anselmus suprascriptam compatriotae sui memoriam heroico carmine uolumini lacrimabiliter indidi . . . .” The poem was not transmitted in Orderic’s work as he promised (see Chibnall’s note ad loc), but is printed in PL 118:1049–50. Personal names of authors are found in the following entries: Norwich Cathedral (No. 40), the Abbey of St. Mary, York (No. 41), the Cathedral of Nantes (No. 104B), St. Martin of Tours (No. 119), Ste. Radegunde, Poitiers (No. 125), the Cathedral of Meaux (No. 189), the Priory of Notre-Dame de la Porte Saint-Léon, Sens (No. 209). Virtual names are found in the entry of Nunnaminster, Winchester (No. 11) Versus cuiusdam neptis suae and in that of Notre-Dame, Sens (No. 144B) Versus abbatissae (see texts below). Collective contributions of communities’ students are so labeled in the entries of Bath Abbey (No. 28), St. Bavo, Ghent (No. 161), and the priory of Saint-Denis de Nogent-le-Rotrou (No. 215). The names of teachers, along with those of their students, appear in both the

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37.

38.

39.

40. 41. 42.

43.

44. 45. 46.

107

entries of Sens Cathedral (No. 216), Versus scolares. Poncius, magister, and in a damaged entry (No. 106) that reads “Titulus scolarium sub Dulgerio, nulli philosophorum secundo, . . . cancium.” The very handwriting in the titulus is, in fact, at once representative and descriptive of the community, for the calligraphy that inscribes each entry may itself be a claim, a statement, or, perhaps, a sad admission. Dufour (“Les rouleaux des morts,” p. 99) reports that at the beginning of the fourteenth century tituli appear with indications of the identity of their copyists. Entry No. 220 on the Matilda bore the inscription “Hugo monachus fecit hoc.” Delisle takes this to be the selfidenfication of the monk who inscribed the entry. Note that abuse on the Matilda Roll is not directed only toward women religious. See attacks on monks in No. 125C and in No. 143, which follows the spirited commendation of monks in No. 142, and compare the anti-monk epigram among the fragments of the mortuary roll of Robert, abbot of Saint-Aubin of Angers (d. 1154; No. 23B, Delisle, Rouleaux des morts, p. 368). This motif occurs passim, but most notably in Nos. 28, 49, 104A, and 179. Prohibition of grief over the death of a truly saintly person as unbecoming or as misplaced or even self-indulgent is a commonplace of mortuary rolls, and one would not, ceteris paribus, assign it any gender significance. Indeed, this prohibition occurs in poems addressed by women to the monks of Savigny in two poems on the Mortuary Roll of Abbot Vitalis, in No. 41, from Argenteuil (some have been intrigued by the possibility that it is the composition of Heloise who was resident at Argenteuil at the time; see Delisle’s note ad loc; a translation of this poem by Patrick T. McMahon appears in Penelope D. Johnson, Equal in Monastic Profession: Religious Women in Medieval France [Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1991], pp. 145–46), and in No. 153 from Sts. Mary and Edith of Wilton, and is touched upon in the poem from the women of Saint-Georges, Rennes, on the Matilda Roll (No. 98A, v. 7, below). But it is the great number and sometimes condescending and hectoring tone of these admonitions on the Matilda Roll that take them beyond commonplace fraternal correction to the verge of invective. See the virulent examples in Nos. 28, 49, 123A, 125B, and 138. See Nos. 28 and 125C. No. 138; not unrelated to this doubt are the suggestions that Matilda achieved holiness only by virtually becoming a man (see Nos. 1, 108, 119, 138, 139C), a commonplace, to be sure, but a commonplace that acquires a sharp edge in the context of the Matilda Roll. See Nos. 28, 125B, 99, 139B, 179, 161, 181D, 208, 215C; against this, several poems that make the Eve-Death connection mitigate it by drawing the Eve-Mary connection (see, e.g., Nos. 99, 179, 215D). See notes to the texts for citations. “Ergo quis hanc illi temerarius assimilavit?” etc. Gerald A. Bond, “‘Iocus amoris’: The Poetry of Baudri of Bougeuil and the Formation of the Ovidian Subculture,” Traditio 42 (1986): 143–93; quoted from p. 151, n. 23.

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TEXTS FROM COMMUNITIES OF WOMEN FROM THE MATILDA ROLL A. The Obituary Notice of Abbess Matilda Omnibu s. . . . . . . . . catho . . . . . . filiis uniuersis diuinæ rati . . . . . . deuote . . . . . . suffr agia c. . . . .casus. Deplo[randa] est, [karissimi] fratres, conditio quam in orbem terrarum inuidia [serpentis],1 Euæ ambitio et Adæ inobedientia introduxit. Cum enim Eua serpenti, Adam Euæ morem gessisset, in quibus profecto duobus, tanquam primis parentibus, humanum genus totum latebat, factum est ut in omnem eorum futuram progeniem maledictionis etiam et peccati poena transiret. Quam. . . . . atque miserabilius formidamus et detestamur amarius, cum eius familiarem uiolentiam et tormenta sentimus. Porro ipsius aculei2 mentibus nostris altius sunt impressi, cum piissimam matrem nostram et abbatissam Mathildem legum fatalium extulisset censura. Que cum ab ipsis pueritiæ primæ crepundiis regularibus fuerit subdita disciplinis, ipsam nimirum intra Christi cunas ecclesiæ sanctæ fouit mamilla, et euangelici plenius alimenti suauissimum lac in omnem morum et fidei sanctitatem nutriuit. Hæc in teneris adhuc annis immortali sponso uirginitatem suam deuouit, ut ad eius nuptias sempiternas et immaculatum3 cubile plenius mereatur gaudiis introire, et de corona uirginum, qui est fructus centesimus, gloriari. In huius autem despons[at]ionis uotiuam professionem sacrum uelamen in signum subiectionis et humilitatis accepit, contemtoque mundi regno cum ipsius diuitiis et ornatu, propter amorem Domini nostri Iesu Christi, intra monasticæ mansionis claustrales angustias se conclusit, ubi sane uerbo uitæ4 præceptisque salutaribus sic consenuit, ut, cum ad maturam peruenisset ætatem, et baculum simul pastoralem acciperet, et nobis ad animarum prærogaretur custodiam. In cuius ita ministerio uigilauit, ut et uerbo subiectis prodesse satageret et exemplo. Immo, sicut in Actibus apostolorum inuenitur: “Quæ cepit Iesus facere et docere,”5 quæ prius ipsa fecerat, postmodum prædicauit. Hæc ad nostri coenobii magistratum non est alteri subrogata, quæ prima incipientis est monasterii mater effecta. Quod profecto monasterium rex Willelmus, qui de Normannis regnum Anglorum primus obtinuit, et uxor eius regina Mathildis, cuius probos actus et nobilem uitam suorum operum monimenta declarant, a fundamentis intra iuris sui terminos extruxerunt. In quo sane filiam

1

Delisle filled the lacuna here with the word serpentis, suggested by its occurrence at the beginning of the next sentence; see Wis 2:24: “invidia autem diaboli mors introivit in orbem terrarum.” 2 Cp. in the Te Deum: “Tu devicto mortis aculeo aperuisti credentibus regnum caelorum.” 3 Cp. Heb 13:4. 4 Cp. 1 Io 1:1 . . . “et manus nostrae contrectauerunt de uerbo uitae.” 5 Acts 1:1.

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suam Ceciliam, nobilissimam uirginem, Deo dicantes, in decorem et exultationem domus Dei, cultui mancipauerunt diuino, ut securius Deo psallerent cum propheta: “Domine, dilexi decorem domus tuæ.”6 In quo præterea post felices actus, post pietatis opera, post uitam uirtutum, eadem est regina sicut ante rogauerat, tradita sepulturæ; ut sacellum quod amore uiuens coluerat ossibus mortua decoraret. Ad huius igitur habitationis regimen est assumta, cuius uobis annuntiamus obitum, mater nostra; quæ, cum uiueret, in agro dominico triticum seminauit,7 cum ueniret, eiusdem cum exultatione manipulos reportauit in horreum.8 Hæc profecto plantationis suæ surculos, quos circumquaque multiphariam inserebat, in florem aperuit, flores in fructum perduxit. Porro quod de fructu iam ipsius maturuit, diuinæ manui colligendum, et in cælesti cellario reponendum mandauit. Multis in locis, gratias Deo, ipsius eruditio custoditur, et eiusdem institutio disciplinæ seruatur; quam, sicut monasticis necessaria rudimentis, diuina gratia non reliquit, sed usque in senectam et senium9 suis incolumem conseruauit ancillis. In articulo tamen ultimæ senectutis, cum iam naturæ gloria defecisset, graui est infirmitate correpta, et per quatuor fere dies doloris continuatione uexata. Porro cum dissolutionis suæ terminum imminere sentiret, filias suas, quas in amorem pietatis uerbi cælestis educauerat alimento, iubet otius conuocari,10 ut in fine quoque, quam semper docuerat, prædicare non desisteret ueritatem. Habito uero aliquandiu de religione colloquio, post olei sacri desideratissimam unctionem, post dominici corporis et sanguinis communionem uiuificam, inter sanctarum oscula feminarum, inter suspiria uirginum et singultus, glorioso transitu migrauit a seculo, sine fine regnatura cum Christo. Obiit autem anno prelationis suæ quinquagesimo quarto, pridie nonas iulias, in confessione fidei Christinæ, senex et plena dierum,11 quam intra monasterii sui parietes cum omni sollemnitate filiarum eius caritas sepeliuit et cura, ut quem in uita sua frequentare non destitit, nec in morte locum relinqueret. Agebatur instar exequiarum beati Martini pontificis matris nostræ celeberrimum funus, in quo nec psallentium uocibus fletus, nec lugentium lacrymis poterat cantus abesse.12

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Ps 25:8. Triticum is the wheat that grows from the good seed in the parable of the Wheat and the Cockle in Mt 13:24–30. 8 Cp. Ps 125:6: “euntes ibant et flebant portantes semina sua venientes autem venient in exulatione portantes manipulos suos” and ⫹ Mt 13:30: “triticum autem congregate in horreum meum.” 9 Cp. Ps 70:18. 10 Cp. Sulpicius Severus, Ep. 3.6: “Martinus igitur obitum suum longe ante praescivit dixitque fratribus dissolutionem sui corporis imminere.” (SC 133:336), “. . . uiribus corporis coepit repente destitui conuocatisque fratribus indicat se iam resolui.” (ibid., 338). 11 Cp. Genesis 25:8. 12 See the account of St. Martin’s funeral in Sulpicius Severus, Ep 3.18–21 (SC 133:342/344); note esp. Severus’s rhetorical question in chap. 21, “quid simile Martini exequiis aestimabitur?” 7

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Nemo tamen [est] qui præsentis mundi possit illæsus conuersationem euadere, qui non uel leui puluere sordidetur, quem non oporteat orationum simul et elemosinarum emundari suffragiis. Rogamus ergo uos per fraternæ uiscera caritatis, rogamus et per religionis misericordiam Christianæ, ut quod in amphiteatro mundi huius, in quo cum uitiis quasi cum bestiis depugnatur, mater nostra uulnus accepit, precum sanctarum et liberalitatis in pauperes sanetis remedio. Sed et sorores nostras et omnes in utroque sexu, quorum nomina subnotamus, uestræ semper caritatis diligentiæ commendamus: Mathildem, Anglorum reginam, nostri coenobii fondatricem; Adilidem, Mathildem, Constantiam, filias eius; Murielem, Adelidem, Hauisam, Catherinam, Mabiliam, Emmam, Adelam, Murielem, Ansfridam, Adelaidam, Mathildem, Emmam, Hauisam, Ermelinam, Eremburgam, Auitiam, Adelidem, Susannam, Rosiam, Basiliam, Emitiam, Basiliam, Lutiam, Ascelinam, Rohaidem, Murielem, Odeldam, Euam, Basiliam, Hauisam, Adelidem, monachas, Hugonem, Girardum, Hugonem, Gislebertum, atque omnes nostræ congregationis defunctos. Nostro rotulario subuenite; precamur, pro Domino, ne penuria uictus ab incepto deficiat, sed, uobis sibi benigne suffragantibus, bene coeptum opus ad effectum usque perducat. B. Poems from the Entries of Communities of Women on the Matilda Roll: 11. Titulus gloriosæ dei genitricis mariæ et sanctæ Eadburgæ virginis Wintoniensis ecclesiæ. Proh dolor! Argentum, uestis, nec gemma, nec aurum, nec pietas, nec nobilitas, nec larga potestas13 mortali cuiquam possunt defendere uitam. Nil igitur prodest cumulatio diuitiarum, ni mereamur in his consortia cælicolarum. Hec bona multa dabat quæ uita beata probabat, cui deus in terris culmen donauit honoris. Præsentem uitam liquit cupiendo petitam Mathildis, summi desposcens premia regni. Summi summa dei gloria detur ei. Item. Nos matris laudem melius reticendo colemus. Nam condigna loqui quia non datur, inde tacemus. Sufficiat tamen hoc quod huic ex corde fauemus, proditur et quicquid meritis minus esse tenemus. Sic res occultas colit officiosa uoluntas, 13

Cp. Horace, Carmina 4.7.23–24.

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huic ut maiorem pariat sine uoce fauorem. Clamet lingua tamen: “Tibi sit, pia donna, beamen, nosque tuum mundas faciat tibi dogma secundas.” Versus cuiusdam neptis suæ. Post obitum matri prope sis, reuerenda Nomine Mathildi pia sis, benedicta Hanc bene defendas, fortis uirtute Ne tenebras timeat, te præduce, clara Non hostis noceat, te uisa, uirgo Insidians taceat, te iudice, domna Et fraudes reprimat, te conuincente, Mox procul aufugiat, bona, te terrente, Hec eat in requiem, te dante, colenda Iungatur sanctis, te, iusta, iubente, Feliciter uiuat, te, sancta, fauente, Corregnetque deo, te presule, digna

Maria. Maria. Maria. Maria. Maria. Maria. Maria. Maria. Maria. Maria. Maria. Maria.

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13. Titulus sanctæ Mariæ et sancti Melorii Ambesbiensis ecclesiæ. Nulli uita datur quin mortis lege fruatur. Iustus14 enim moritur, mortis qui post dominatur.15 18. Titulus sancte Mariæ et sancti Edguardi Scephtoniensis ecclesiæ. O mors crudelis, nullique probata fidelis, O mors immitis, nigri soror impia Ditis, quid sic egisti? Quid sic matrem rapuisti? O mater dilecta nimis, reuerenda magistra, tu, decus omne tuis, postquam te fata tulerunt,16 qualiter ecclesiæ cecidit robusta columna! Sed non omnino ruit hæc robusta columna; semper honos nomenque tuum laudesque manebunt.17 Christe Deus, rutilo ditans illam paradiso, Mathildi miserere, tuæ miserere pusillæ, quæ tibi, dum uixit, deuota mente cohæsit, hæsit, obediuit, coluit, dilexit, amauit. 14

Cp Acts 3:14, 1 John 2:1. Cp. Romans 6:9. 16 Vergil, Ecloga 5:34. 17 Vergil, Ecloga 5:78. 15

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62. Titulus sanctæ Mariæ Lexoviensis. Cuncta petunt lapsum quæcumque uocantur ad ortum, et rapit in mundo mors omnes ordine nullo. Non parcit iuueni, nec scit misererier ulli; sed licet in toto dominetur pessima mundo, non tamen hanc patitur Christus, quo cuncta reguntur, in propriis seruis quicquam perquirere iuris, sed pietatis opem cunctis impendit eandem; uestræ qui matri concedat gaudia cæli. Ferte iuuamen ⬍eis⬎ quos subtitulauimus istic. 66. Titulus sancti Leodegarii Pratelli in eadem villa. Dum sic polleret super hoc, dum fama uolaret, abstulit hanc nobis gemmam regina Mathildis, tradens cenobium sibi matris iure regendum, quod sub honore dei construxerat ipsa Cadomi. Quæ fuerit post hæc, non est recitare necesse, cum titulus cartæ bene dixerit. Et satis inde fundimus ecce preces, cordis suspiria flentes, ut cuncti Christo signati crismate sancto subueniant animæ matris tam magnificandæ, nec minus illarum subduntur nomina quarum. 72. Titulus sanctæ Mariæ Vilarensis. Sedibus æthereis maneat sociata Mathildis; absit ei poena; iuuet illam uirgo Maria. Angelicus coetus, diuina lege repletus, propitius fieri quærat sine fine Mathildi. Ecclesiæ lumen fuit hæc, miserisque iuuamen. Cæli doctrinæ cupiens submittere sese, subdita diuinis rebus terrena reliquit. Christus ei requiem concedat habere perhennem. 80. Titulus sancti Pauli Rothomagi. Non hanc condempnet sententia iudicialis; regna superna dei sibi gratia det uenialis, nec quod peccauit perpes uindicta sequatur, qua gaudet requie iustorum turma fruatur. 98. Titulus sancti Georgii Redonensis. Carne tegi nostra non respuit omnicreator, sed pietate sua nostri generis reparator

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uirginis intactæ dignatur claustra subire, ut genus humanum cælestia possit adire, quod mors sæua suo pressum sub iure tenebat, atque grauans illud non respirare sinebat.18 Istius igitur non est de morte dolendum, immo psallendum est sanctis atque canendum, quorum per nimium consorcia gaudet ademptam, sese cum uideat tanto de turbine demptam. Hæc bona Mathildis fuit ecclesiastica multum, atque suo sponso deuota per omnia tantum. Sed bonitas et simplicitas nobis notuere.19 nam de matre bona processit filia uere stulta, nimis uiciosa, satis data nequiciei, nempe suo sponso numquam deuota fideli. Suscipiat mater cum sponso gaudia cæli.

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121. Titulus sanctæ Mariæ Bellimontis. Legibus inferni careant, et gaudia cæli possideant animæ præsenti luce potitæ, uos quibus auxilium petitis de more benignum, quodque bonum uestris rogitatis, soluite nostris. 141. Titulus sancti Juliani de Prato. Plurima Mathildis te laudat turba virorum, sed laudes hominis nequeunt dare regna polorum. Cui sua facta nocent, nullius carmina prosunt; cernit cuncta Deus, nec falli numina possunt. Laudari tamen haec debet pro culmine morum, ut per eam multi capiant exempla bonorum. Nobilis et sapiens, se caste custodiebat; pauperibus dives, sibi vivere parca volebat. Pax fuit atque salus, dum vixit, amorque sororum, quas magis exemplo quam vi depressit honorum. His ornata bonis fuit abbatissa Matildis. Quae sibi adveniant, noceat ne callidus hostis, ut, cum summa dies claudetur, judice viso, cœtibus angelicis laudes canat in paradiso. 144. Titulus sanctæ Mariæ Sanctonensis sanctimonialium. 18

Cp. Heb 2:14–15. Reading nocuere for MS’s notuere.

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O mortalis homo, casus reminiscere mortis,20 quam non euadet pulcher seu corpore fortis; hac pueri iuuenes pariterque senes gradiuntur. Singula quid referam? Quæ carnea sunt moriuntur. Hæc abbatissa longo sub tempore uixit, de ueniente bonoue malo domino benedixit.21 Dum fuit in pulla, de qua loquimur modo, ueste, ut potuit se pro Christo famulauit honeste. Quidquit habebat ea gaudens præbebat egenis, thesaurum in cælo manibus faciens alienis,22 prospiciensque sibi, studio uitansque sagaci ne manibus furum raperetur et igne uoraci.23 Produxit uitam dum uixit ad omnia castam. Talibus ornata, subiit mortis tamen hastam. De cuius morte grex eius abere dolorem noscitur immensum; tantum portabat amorem! Semper in exemplum pariter nos hanc habeamus, conregnare deo factori quod ualeamus. Quidquit adest nobis tribuat deus ipse necesse. Ad . . . hanc cum sanctis cæli annuat esse. Amen. Versus abbatissæ Cum caro nostra lutum, uermis, cinis efficiatur, non est mirandum si morti subiciatur, et si post mortem cinis in cinerem redigatur. Ast hoc mirandum, cum norit quod moriatur, quæ ualet in uita bona cur homo non operatur. Res homo mortalis cito transit et adnichilatur, Nec licet ut rursus in mundum regrediatur. Tunc iuxta meritum merces uel poena paratur: gloria fit merces, ubi uita salusque moratur, ignis tormentum, cui finis inesse negatur.24 Ardores illos tormentaque non moderata, Spero quod euadet hæc abbatissa beata, Cuius mors nobis per cartam notificata, Cuius sunt etiam per eandem gesta relata. Ipsa fuit Christo sub religione dicata,

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20 Cp. Eugenius of Toledo’s Commonitio mortalitatis humanae: “O mortalis homo, mortis reminiscere casus” (MGH AA 14:233). 21 Cp. Job 1:20, 2:10. 22 Cp. Mt 19:21 and parallels. 23 Cp. Mt 6:20 and parallels. 24 Cp. Mark 9:43, 47.

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uirginitate quidem sua sponsa fuisse probata. His igitur meritis, ut opinor, ad astra leuata, Gaudet in æternum cum uirginibus sociata; Si nondum gaudet, quasi non bene purificata, quæ Christum peperit, sit ei defensio grata. Est manifesta satis humanæ debilitatis, cunctis difficilis, conditio fragilis. Corruit omnis homo pro gustato male pomo,25 nam nisi pro pomo non moreretur homo. Mors fuit ipsorum patrum mala culpa priorum, et nos qui sequimur illud idem patimur omnis. Indignum facinus, crudele, malignum, per quod ceu fumus et uelut umbra sumus.26 Nunc uitæ metas incurrit quælibet ætas, mors peremit iuuenes, et rapit ipsa senes. Pauper, famosus, ignobilis et generosus propter Adæ meritum tendit ad interitum. Mundus uastatur per mortem quæ dominatur; cuncta ruunt citius, sed meliora prius. Hoc etenim clare potes in Mathilde probare: nulla fuit melior, postera siue prior. Quicquid uirtutis dat uere dona salutis, totum continuit, integra uirgo fuit. Sed quamuis talis præphata fuit monialis, mater uirgo dei, quæsumus, adsit ei. 147. Titulus sancti Ausonii martyris eiusdem urbis. Versus. Si moriatur anus, non est plangenda puellis: Illarum uotis hæc inimica fuit. Quippe dolebat anus, si quas uidisset amari. Causa fuit liuor: nullus amabat eam. Est serpens inter ranas anus inter amantes: His serpens, illis insidiatur anus. Hæc obiit, laudate Deum, gaudete puellæ, Iam modo liberius uiuere quæque potest. . . . . . . . . . Iterum uersus facti post pocula uini.

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25 Cp. on the mortuary roll of St. Bruno, No. 111 (entry of St.-Pierre of Lagny-sur-Marne), v. 7: “Hac ruit omnis homo pro gustato male pomo” (PL 152:585A). 26 Cp. Horace, Carmina 4.7.16: “pulvis et umbra sumus . . .”; Venantius Fortunatus 7.12.60–61: “de reliquo nihil est quodcumque videtur in orbe, / nam tumor hic totus fumus et umbra sumus” (MGH AA 4.1:167).

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174. Titulus sanctæ Mariæ Suessionensis. Vestræ Mathildis obitum cum nostra Mathildis audisset, doluit, nec lacrimas tenuit; admonuitque chorum supplex humilisque suorum, ut ferrent secum munia digna precum. Mathildis, dico, quæ diuite gaudet amico, quæ cor uirgineum seruat amando deum. Has abbatissas, uno sub nomine missas, uniat in requie, qui dator est ueniæ. Nostra tamen iuuenis uiuat modo, postea plenis fructibus ante deum læta sequetur eum.

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180. Titulus sancti Petri Avennatium puellarum. Qui regis orbem dasque salutem, rex bone regum, Christe, fideli da mulieri regna polorum, et super æthera dona manentia præbe, Sophia. O genetrix pia, digna per omnia, uirgo Maria, hanc hominum prece fac requiescere regis in arce. Tu, Petre clauiger, orbis et arbiter, esto magister, fraudeque crimina dæmonis hæc quia multa patrauit, esto leuamen, tu placidus tamen istius. Amen. Nomina, si nossem, defunctarum titulassem. Requiescant in pace.

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187. Titulus ecclesiæ Batildis adque Mariæ.27 Virginibusque suis, aliarum laus28 monacarum, nomine sub domini Calensis abbatissa salutes, iudicis aduentum quæ prosint ante tremendum. Larga dei famulis fuit abbatissa Calensis; supplice cum corde clamabat nocte dieque: esto deus nobis cunctis, indulge malignis; nomen pandatur Matildis29 cum uocitatur.30 quam cupiant omnes sibi sociare fideles.

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198. Titulus sanctæ Mariæ Iotrensis ecclesiæ. Hæc sunt nostrorum solatia summa laborum,

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Here the titulus itself is a hexameter; an optional “ornament,” cp. No. 137 on the Matilda Roll. Delisle emended the copyist’s error lax to lux; laus, given here, might do as well, cp. on the Matilda Roll No. 1 (S. Étienne, Caen), v. 3: apostrophe to Matilda, “Laus monacharum, lux, honor et diadema fuisti” and No. 68 (Bec), v. 5 “Abbatisarum laus atque decus monacharum.” 29 I have substituted Matildis for the puzzling Mahidis that Delisle reports. 30 Reading uocitatur for uocabatur. 28

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regnet ut in cælo cum sponso uirgine uirgo, et cum uirginibus, quibus est possessio Christi, que nisi uirgo potest noua sponso cantica cantet31 Ergo deuota Iotrensis concio tota uotis exorat ut, quam bona uita decorat, inclita Matildis iungatur coetibus illis, qui regno Christi potiuntur pane perhenni. 202. Titulus sancti Petri Remensis coenobii. Pro bono mortali quod spreuit mente sagaci, florentum semper nemorum amoena uirecta32 felix possideat, per cunctaque sæcula uiuat; uirginibusque sacris iungatur mater spiritalis, quemque habuit sponsum uideat in æthere Christum. In requie summa gaudens sine fine quiescat. 207. Titulus sanctæ Mariæ Trecorum sanctarum monialium. Hæc genitrix mundo filiarum mansit in Christo; pigris namque sua cunctis donauerat ipsa, flaminis odore fuerat, dum uixit in orbe, plena, uiris multa fomenta parabat cunctis. Hinc repetens summa felix iam fertur ad astra, mundum dimisit, cælestia iamque petiuit. Congaudent fratres, et uos gaudete sorores. Ad dominum preces pro uestris fundimus omnes; pro nostris digne domino uos digna referte; nomina quæ uobis dirigamus linea uestri.

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217. Titulus sancti Iuliani monacharum. Abbatissæ debent mori, quæ subiectas nos amori claudi iubent culpa graui. Quod tormentum iam temptaui. Loco clausa sub obscuro diu uixi pane duro. Huius poenæ fuit causa quod amare dicor ausa.

31 Reading cantet for cantat; cp. Jerome, Adv. Iovininaum 1:40, paraphrasing Apc 14:3: “Hi sunt qui cantant Canticum novum, quod nemo potest canere, nisi virgo est” (PL 23:269A; so also in his Ep 49.10 [CSEL 54:365]). 32 Cp. Vergil, Æneid 6.638–39.

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TRANSLATIONS BY DANIEL SHEERIN A. The Obituary Notice of Abbess Matilda: To all children . . . catholic . . . to all . . . to the divin e. . . devoutly . . . assistance . . . mischance. Lamentable indeed, [well beloved] brethren, is the condition which the [Devil’s] envy, Eve’s ambition, and Adam’s disobedience brought into the world. For when Eve yielded to the Serpent and Adam to Eve (in which pair was latent the entire human race, as they were, of course, the first parents), the consequence was that the penalty of their curse and sin passed on unto all their descendants to come. But we [ . . . ] this, and dread it more piteously, and loathe it more bitterly when we feel its violence and torments close to home.1 Yes, its barbs2 were pressed more deeply still into our minds when the sentence of the laws of death sent to the grave our most devout mother and abbess Matilda. Since she had been subjected to the training of the Rule from the very first beginnings of childhood, it was, of course, the breast of holy church that nursed her in the cradle of Christ, and the delightful milk of gospel nourishment fostered her growth into all holiness of morality and faith. She vowed her virginity to the Immortal Spouse while yet in her tender years, so that she could be counted worthy more fully to enter with joy3 unto his everlasting marriage and spotless bed,4 and to boast of the crown of virgins, which is the hundred-fold harvest.5 In keeping with the avowed profession of this espousal she took the sacred veil as a sign of subjection and humility,6 and, with disdain for the kingdom of the world and its wealth and splendor, for the love of our Lord Jesus Christ she enclosed herself within the cloistered confines of monastic life, where

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Cp. the opening of a prayer in the Order for the Commendation of a Soul: “Smitten by the novel character of the dread wound, and as it were wounded in heart, with tearful voices we implore your compassion, O Redeemer of the world, that you will receive sweetly and gently the soul of our dear N. that is returning to your mercy. . . .” 2 The ancient hymn Te Deum, declares to Christ: “When you overcame the barb of death, you opened heaven to all believers.” 3 Compare the words of the secret prayer of the Mass for the Consecration of a Virgin: “. . . that when the doors are opened at the coming of the High King she may be counted worthy to enter with joy.” 4 Language borrowed from Hebrews 13:4. 5 Association of the “hundred-fold fruit” of Matthew 13:8 with the life of consecrated virginity is an ancient commonplace; St. Jerome in Against Jovinian 1.3 (PL 23:213D–214A) links the “hundredfold fruit” with the “crown” of virginity. 6 St. Paul’s insistence that women be veiled is taken to mean that they wear the veil as a sign of subjection, in, for example, Hervaeus of Déols (d. 1149/1150) on 1 Cor 11 (PL 181:925A, 927B), Gratian, Decretum, pars 2, causa 15, quaestio 3 (Friedberg, p. 750), and Peter Lombard on 1 Cor 11 (PL 191:1630B). The ubiquitous prayer for the blessing of a nun’s garments in the rite for the consecration of a virgin (“Deus aeternorum bonorum fidelissme promissor”) describes these clothes as “garments that signify humility of heart and contempt for the world.”

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by the word of life7 and the teachings of salvation she so achieved the wisdom of age that when she reached adulthood, she received the pastoral staff and was appointed to the guardianship of our souls. So vigilant was she in this holy work that she made every effort to help those under her both by word and example. Indeed, in keeping what is found in the Acts of the Apostles, “The things which Jesus commenced to do and to teach,8 she afterward preached those things which she had earlier done herself. She did not replace another in the direction of our community, but was made the first mother of a new monastery. The monastery was built from its foundations within the bounds of their realm by King William, the first of the Normans to win the kingdom of the English, and his wife, Matilda the Queen whose works declare the probity of her deeds and the nobility of her life. It was here that they dedicated to God their daughter Cecilia, a most noble maiden, handing her over to God’s worship for the beauty and delight of the house of God, so that they could sing quite confidently along with the Prophet: “O Lord, I have loved the beauty of your house.”9 Here, too, after a life of blessed works, devotion, and virtue, was this queen buried, even as she had requested beforehand, so that in death she might adorn with her bones the chapel that she had embellished with her love while alive.10 It was for the direction of this community, then, that our mother, whose death we are reporting to you, was chosen. While she lived, she sowed wheat in the Lord’s field,11 and dying she carried sheaves into his granary with joy.12 Indeed, she caused the shoots of her vineyard, which she engrafted all about in various ways, to open in blossom and brought the blossoms to fruit. Then she handed over all of its produce she had brought to maturity to God’s hand, to be harvested and stored up in the heavenly cellar. In many communities, thanks be to God, her teaching is observed and her discipline is maintained. Since she was needed during these first stages of our monastery’s life, God’s favor did not leave her, but kept her healthy for the benefit of His handmaidens unto advanced old-age.13

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Language drawn, perhaps, from I John 1:1. Acts 1:1. 9 Psalm 25:8. 10 See the description of Queen Matilda’s funeral in Ordericus Vitalis, Historia ecclesiastica 7.9 (Chibnall, 4: 4). 11 Perhaps an allusion to the Parable of the Wheat and the Cockle in Matthew 13:24–30. 12 Psalm 125:6 ⫹ Matthew 13:30; the psalm verse’s “venientes autem venient/coming they shall come” is taken to refer either to death or to the general judgment; see in the twelfth-century commentary sometimes attributed to Anselm of Laon: “but ‘coming,’ that is approaching death, ‘they shall come’ even unto judgment” (PL 116:640C) and Peter Lombard’s comment: “ ‘Coming’ however to judgment” (PL 191:1156C). 13 Alluding to Psalm 70:18. 8

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But in extreme old-age, when nature’s glory had long ago fallen away, she was seized by serious illness, and was sore distressed by suffering that continued for about four days. Then, when she realized that the end, the moment of her dissolution was at hand,14 she bade her daughters, those she had reared with the food of the heavenly word unto a love of devotion, to be quickly assembled, so that even in the end she would not cease to preach the truth she had always taught. Then, after some talk of the religious life, after the longed-for anointing with sacred oil, after life-giving communion in the Lord’s body and blood, in the midst of holy women’s kisses, in the midst of maidens’ sighs and sobs, she departed the world, passing gloriously to reign forever with Christ. Now she died in the forty-fourth year of her abbacy, on the day before the nones of July, in profession of the Christian faith, old and full of days.15 Her daughters’ love and care interred her with all solemnity within the walls of her monastery, so that not even in death would she abandon the place she did not cease to frequent in life. The well-attended funeral of our mother was celebrated like the funeral of St. Martin the Bishop;16 in it weeping was accompanied by the voices of chanters and chanting by the tears of mourners. Even so, there is no one who can escape unharmed from life in this world, no one who will not have been stained by at least a bit of its dust, no one who does not need to be cleansed by the aid of prayers and almsgiving.17 And so we ask you, by the bowels of fraternal charity, by the compassion of the Christian community, to heal through the remedy of your holy prayers and generosity to the poor whatever wound our mother received in the amphitheater of this world where one fights with vices as if with beasts, commending always to the attention of your charity both our sisters and all those of both sexes whose names we note below: Matilda, Queen of the English, founder of our monastery; Adilis, Matilda, Constance, her daughters; the professed: Muriel, Adelis, Havisa, Catherine, Mabel, Emma, Adela, Muriel, Ansfrida, Adelaide, Matilda, Emma, Havisa,

14

Alluding to Sulpicius Severus’s account of St. Martin of Tours’s premonition of his death and his assembling of his community: “So Martin knew the day of his death far in advance, and told his brethren that the collapse of his body was at hand” (Ep. 3.6); “. . . his physical strength began to fail him and he told the brethren who had been summoned that he would die soon” (Ep. 3.9). This may be a direct allusion to the text of Sulpicius Severus, but the immediate source of these words in this obituary may be the divine office for the Feast of St. Martin, specifically the antiphon CAO No. 4785 (Rene Jean Hesbert, Corpus antiphonalium officii, 6 vols. [Roma: Herder, 1963–1979], 3: 463), a piece composed by Odo of Cluny, and the responsory CAO 6217 (ibid., 4:56). 15 Alluding, perhaps, to Genesis 25:8. 16 Alluding to Sulpicius Severus’s description of the funeral of Martin of Tours. 17 Cp. in the prayer from the Order for the Commendation of a Soul, “Diri vulneris nouitate perculsi” quoted above, the words “and if he/she has taken on any blemishes from interaction with the flesh, may you, O God, in your wonted goodness mercifully wipe them out.”

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Ermelina, Eremburga, Avitia, Adelis, Susanna, Rosia, Basilia, Emitia, Basilia, Lucy, Ascelina, Rohais, Muriel, Odelda, Eva, Basilia, Havisa, Adelis; Hugh, Gerard, Hugh, Gilbert, and all the dead of our congregation. Please help our roll-carrier, for the Lord’s sake, so that he will not be overcome by want and abandon his undertaking, but may, by your generous help, bring his work well begun through to its conclusion. B. Poems from the tituli of Communities of Women on the Matilda Roll: 11. Nunnaminster, Winchester Entry of the Abbey of Mary, the Glorious Mother of God, and Saint Edburga of Winchester Alas! Not silver, nor gown, nor gem, nor gold not piety, nor noble standing, nor vast power18 can safeguard life for any mortal at all. Of no avail, then, is our amassing great wealth unless we gain thereby a place in the company of heaven. This woman was the source of much good, as her holy life did prove, and God granted her very high office on earth. Matilda left this present life in longing for the one she sought, laying claim to the reward of the kingdom of heaven. May the highest glory of God on high be given her.

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Also. We will better contribute to the mother’s praise by keeping silence; we lack skill to say what is worthy and so keep still. But let this suffice: We are her sincere admirers and maintain that whatever is reported is less than she deserves. The will to serve so attends to things in secret that it produces even greater admiration for her without speaking. Even so, may tongue cry out: “Bliss be yours, O Lady devout, may your teachings make us pure after your example!” Verses by a niece of hers. After her death, be near our mother, O venerable Mary. To Matilda particularly be kind, O blessed Mary. Protect her well, O mighty in power Mary. Let her not fear the dark with your guidance, O lightsome Mary. May the foe harm her not in sight of you, O virgin Mary. 18

Cp. Horace, Odes 4.7.23–42.

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May the cunning one be still as you sit in judgment, O Lady Mary, and check his deceits as you refute him, O Mary. Let him fly at once far away, in fear of you, O Mary. May she enter into repose, at your gift, O worshipful Mary. May she be joined with the saints at your bidding, O righteous Mary. May she live in happiness by your favor, O holy Mary. and reign with God, by your example, O worthy Mary.

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13. Abbey of Sts. Mary and Melor, Amesbury Entry of the church of Saint Mary and Saint Melor of Amesbury. Life is given to none without being subject to the rule of death. For the Righteous One19 died, who later has dominion over death.20 18. Abbey of Edwardstowe, Shaftsbury Entry of the Church of Saint Mary and St. Edward of Shaftsbury. O pitiless death, proven reliable by no one, O savage death, wicked sister of black Pluto, why did you do this, why have you snatched the mother away? O mother so well beloved, reverend teacher, You, your people’s glory, after fate took you,21 how stout the pillar of the church that fell! But this stout pillar fell not altogether — Your renown, your name, your praise will ever remain.22 O Christ God, awarding her the glory of paradise, have pity on Matilda, have pity on your poor girl who, while alive, did cleave to you with mind devout, cleaved, obeyed, worshipped, loved, craved. 62. Notre-Dame du Pré, Liseux Entry of St. Mary of Liseux. All things bidden to rise are bound for their setting, and in the world death snatches all unpredictably. It spares not the young, and knows compassion for no one. But though its fell tyranny extends over the whole world, yet Christ, who rules all things, does not permit it to obtain any right over his own servants, 19

Cp. Acts 3:14, 1 John 2:1. Cp. Romans 6:9. 21 The poet has inserted verbatim Virgil, Eclogue 5.34. 22 A verbatim insertion of Virgil, Eclogue 5.78. 20

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but extends to all the same succor of his pity; may he grant your mother the joys of heaven. Give your aid to those whom we have noted above. 66. Saint-Léger-de-Préaux, Liseux Entry of Saint-Léger-de-Préaux in the same town. Since her direction of this community23 was such that her renown became widespread, Queen Matilda took from us this gem and entrusted to her to rule by mother’s right the monastery which she had herself built at Caen to the honor of God. No need for us to relate how she lived afterward, since the notice on the scroll has told this well. And, so, we pour forth, lo, abundant prayers, with tears and heartfelt sighs, that all who have been sealed unto Christ with holy chrism may come to the aid of the soul of this mother so praiseworthy, as well as of those women whose names are added below.

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72. Notre-Dame, Montvilliers Entry of St. Mary of Villiers. May Matilda abide in the community in heaven, may suffering be far from her, may the Virgin Mary help her. May the angelic throng, perfected in law divine, try to be gracious unendingly to Matilda. A beacon of the church was she, a help to the suffering. Longing to submit herself to heavenly teaching, subjected to things divine, she has left behind the things of earth. May Christ grant her to have everlasting repose. 80. Saint-Paul, Rouen Entry of St. Paul at Rouen. May the Judge’s sentence not condemn this woman; may God’s indulgent favor grant her the heavenly realm. May everlasting punishment not attend her sin, but may she enjoy the repose that gladdens the righteous throng. 98. Saint-Georges, Rennes Entry of St. George of Rennes. 23 This is a possible translation of “Dum sic polleret super hoc . . . ,” understanding “hoc ⬍coenobium⬎” or “hoc ⬍monasterium⬎”; Baylé (p. 14) points out that there is no record of the abbacy of a Matilda at this date at St.-Léger-de-Préaux.

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The Creator-of-All did not scorn to be clad in our flesh, but, as restorer of our kind, of his pity he deigned to enter the closed womb of the Virgin undefiled, so that heaven would be accessible to humankind whom savage death held subject to its tyranny, oppressing us heavily and allowing no respite.24 Therefore, one must not grieve over her death; no, the saints should sing praises and chant. She rejoices greatly to have been carried off to share their lot, since she sees from what a vast tempest she’s been removed.

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This Matilda was a great benefit to the church and was devoted to her Spouse alone in all things. But her goodness and guilelessness have injured us, for from the good mother came forth a daughter truly stupid, quite corrupt and abandoned to wickedness, one, that is, never devoted to her faithful Spouse.25 May the mother receive the joys of heaven with her Spouse. 121. Notre-Dame, Beaumont-lès-Tours Entry of St. Mary of Beaumont. May the souls of all thus far departed be free from hell’s domain and possess heaven’s joys. For them, you, by custom, seek our kindly aid; see that you pay out to ours the good you request for yours. 141. Saint-Julien du Pré Entry of Saint-Julien du Pré. Ever so many communities of men praise you, Matilda, but human praise cannot award the Kingdom of Heaven. Nobody’s verses can help if one is maimed by one’s deeds; God observes all things, nor can deity be fooled. But she ought to be praised for her outstanding way of life so that many will take her as a model of good behavior.

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Cp. Heb 2:14–15. Recalling the claim of the nuns of La Trinité in the obituary, “In many communities, thanks be to God, her teaching is observed and her discipline is maintained,” one wonders if the nuns of St. George had received an abbess from Caen (there is a gap for this period in the list of abbesses of St. George in Gallia Christiana).

25

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A woman noble and wise, she kept herself chaste. She was rich for the poor, but chose to live sparingly herself. She was the peace, health, and love of her sisters whom she ruled more by example than by force of office. The Abbess Matilda was adorned by these good traits; may they serve to keep the clever foe from harming her, so that when the Last Day is ended, in sight of the Judge, she may sing his praises with angelic hosts in Paradise.

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144. Notre-Dame, Saintes26 Entry of the Nuns of St. Mary of Saintes. O mortal man, be mindful of the doom of death27 which neither the fair nor the strong shall escape. Thither children, youths, and the old alike make their way. Why mention particulars? Things of the flesh die. This abbess lived for a very long time she blessed the Lord as good or evil came.28 While she, of whom we now speak, was in monastic garb, she strove to make herself a worthy servant of Christ. Whatever she possessed she was glad to give to the needy, by others’ hands creating her treasure in heaven,29 laying it up for herself, with wise precaution preventing its being snatched away by hands of thieves or devouring flame.30 She led a long life, chaste throughout in all respects. Though thus equipped, she still underwent the spear of death.31 That her flock’s grief at her death is boundless we know quite well, so great a love it bore her. May we all keep her before us as a model so that we may be able to reign with God our Creator. May God grant us whatever is needful. [ . . . ] may he grant her to be with the saints of heaven. Amen.

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26 See also the excellent translation of the poems from Saintes by Hugh Feiss, “A Poet Abbess from Notre-Dame de Saintes,” Magistra 1 (1995): 39–54. 27 This line has been taken, with slight reordering of words, from the opening line of Eugenius of Toledo’s Warning to Humans about Their Mortality. 28 Cp. Job 1:20, 2:10. 29 Cp. Matthew 19:21 and parallels. 30 Cp. Matthew 6:20 and parallels. 31 This last is ambiguous, meaning either that she suffered the stab of death’s spear or that she was sold off, auctioned “sub hasta mortis.”

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Verses by the Abbess.32 As our flesh is formed from mud, worms, and ash, it should be no wonder that it is subject to death, that, after death, ash is reduced again to ash. But one must wonder about this: why, knowing he will die, man does not do what good works he can in this life. Man, being mortal, passes away quickly into nothing, nor is one allowed to return again into the world. Then is reward or punishment in store according to one’s deserts: the reward is glory, where life and salvation abide; the torment is fire, which is said to have no end.33 As to those flames and boundless torments, I hope she will escape them, this blessed abbess, of whose death notice is given us by the scroll, whose deeds are also reported by the same. She was consecrated to Christ in religious life, by her virginity proven to have been His spouse. Borne up by these merits to the stars, I believe, she rejoices forever in the company of the virgins. But if she is not yet in joy, as being not wholly purified, may She who bore Christ be her ready defense. Frail humanity’s impermanence is quite obvious, and it is for all a cause of woe. Every man drops down dead due to the sinful tasting of the fruit,34 indeed, were it not for the fruit, man would not die. Death was the fault of our ancient parents, and we who come after endure the same fate, all of us. Base the deed, pitiless, spiteful, whereby we are like smoke, and are like a shadow.35 Now every age crashes into the boundaries of life, death destroys the young, snatches away the old. 32

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Hugh Feiss (“A Poet Abbess,” p. 42) assigns these and the next set of verses to Abbess Sibille who took office in 1118. He explains the five-year gap between Matilda of Caen’s death and the arrival of the roll at Saintes by the fact that N.-D. of Saints is the 144th entry on a roll that had already traveled widely, across the Channel and back again. Note his critical judgment of the verses, “Her poetry tends toward clichés, but it is the work of a literate, if uninspired author” (47). 33 Cp. Mark 9:43, 47. 34 Cp. a line in the verses provided by the abbey of St.-Pierre of Lagny-sur-Marne on the mortuary roll of St. Bruno: “By it [death] every man falls dead due to the sinful tasting of the fruit.” 35 Cp. Horace, Odes 4.7.16: “we are dust and shadow”; Venantius Fortunatus 7.12.60–61: “For the rest, whatever is seen in the world is nothing at all, for all our arrogance, we are smoke and shadow.”

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The poor, the renowned, the base-born and noble hasten onward to death because of what Adam earned. The world is laid waste by death in whose dominion all things quickly fall to ruin, but that which is better goes first. Indeed, you can prove this clearly in the case of Matilda: there was no woman better, before her or after. All virtues that truly grant the boon of salvation, she had them all; she was a virgin compleat. But although the nun of whom we speak was this sort, Virgin Mother of God, we pray, come to her aid.

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147. Saint-Ausone, Angoulême Entry of St. Ausonius the Martyr of the same city. Verses: If an old woman dies, she shouldn’t be mourned by girls,36 for she has been the opponent of their desires. You see, the old woman grieved if she saw that any was loved: the cause of this was envy: nobody loved her. An old woman among lovers is a snake among frogs,37 the snake lies in wait for the frogs, the old woman for them. She has died, praise God, be glad, O ye girls, now each of you can live in greater freedom. . . . . . . Again, verses composed after drinking wine. 174. Notre-Dame, Soissons Entry of St. Mary of Soissons. When our Matilda heard of the death of yours, she grieved, and could not hold back her tears; and with humble entreaty she bade the choir of her community to join her in fulfilling the seemly duty of prayer. 36 One wonders if these lines were not written to compete with the verses attributed to one Tescelinus in the entry (No. 125) of Ste-Radegunde, Poitiers. After a denunciation of monks, he continues: “. . . Likewise I urge that you all pay no mind to old women, / so that you can sport more freely with your lovers. / They get in the way of your schemes; they undertake / to break up well-planned assignations; and because of them even a beloved girl is shunned. / An old woman is foul, with wrinkled skin and scowling face; / she envies the beautiful women she sees expensively turned out. / The royal offspring [Matilda?] was an exception to this pattern, / and may the Just God Himself place her in the heavenly choirs”; see also the hostility toward older women expressed in No. 28, quoted in the introduction, and in No. 217 translated below. 37 Alluding, perhaps, to the fable of the frogs who eventually received a snake as their king, as in Phaedrus, Fabulae Aesopicae 1.2.

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I speak of Mathilda, whose joy is her bounteous Beloved, who keeps a virginal heart with her love for God. May these abbesses who were sent into life with the one name be made one in repose by Him who is the Grantor of Pardon. But may our young abbess live long now, and later with fruit abundant in the sight of God, she will joyfully follow in His train.

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180. Saint-Pierre, Avenay Entry of the Maidens of Avenay of St. Peter. You who rule the world, and grant salvation, O good King of Kings, O Christ, give the kingdom of heaven to this faithful woman, and, O Wisdom, bestow the gifts that endure above. O pitiful Mother, in all things worthy, Mary the Virgin, by your prayer cause her to find repose in the King’s high refuge. O Peter, Keybearer, Judge of the World, be her teacher, and because due to the demon’s guile she has sinned much, may you, propitious even so, be her aid and comfort. Amen. If I knew our dead sisters’ names I’d have entered them here. May they rest in peace.

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187. Sainte-Batilde and Notre-Dame, Chelles The Entry this of the church of St. Batilde and of St. Mary.38 To her virgins dear, the boast of other nuns, from the Abbess of Chelles prayers for their welfare that are to be a help before the Judge’s dread coming! The Abbess of Chelles was generous to God’s servants. With prayerful heart she used to cry night and day: “Be a God unto us all, forgive the wicked!” May the name of Matilda be praised when she is mentioned;39 may all the faithful long that she be joined to their number. 198. Notre-Dame and Sts. Peter and Paul, Jouarre Entry of the Abbey of St. Mary of Jouarre.

38

Here the titulus itself is an hexameter. This poem is obscure and its text seems to have been garbled somewhat (see note to Latin text). One might imagine that the Abbess of Chelles is the contemporary abbess, sending quasi-epistolary greetings (i.e., prayers and blessings) to the nuns of Caen. But why the past tenses later in the poem? And should the Abbess of Chelles be calling herself the “law” or “light” or “boast” of other, that is, her own, nuns? I can only speculate and suggest that perhaps the Abbess of Chelles referred to here is Chelles’s sainted abbess, Saint Bertilla (died 704), who was, with the sainted Queen Batilde, enshrined in their abbey church. 39 Reading vocitatur for vocabatur.

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This is the ultimate consolation for our struggles, that virgin reign in heaven with Virgin Spouse, and in the company of virgins to whom especially Christ belongs, to sing the new songs that none but a virgin can sing.40 And so, the entire devout congregation of Jouarre entreats by its prayers that, adorned by her good life, the renowned Matilda may be joined to those throngs who receive the Kingdom of Christ as everlasting sustenance. 202. S. Pierre-aux-Dames, Reims Entry of the Monastery of St. Peter, Reims. In return for the mortal good which she wisely disdained may she happily dwell in the lovely greenery41 of ever blossoming groves, and live through all ages. May this spiritual mother be joined to the sainted virgins and in heaven behold Christ whom she has had as her spouse. May she rest with endless joy in final repose. 207. Notre-Dame-aux-Nonnains, Troyes Entry of the Holy Canonesses of St. Mary, Troyes. This mother of daughters made her home in this world in Christ, for she had given her goods to all the needy; she had been filled with the Spirit’s fragrance while living on the earth, and afforded much consolation to all men. Leaving here for the heights she is now happily borne to the stars; she has forsaken this world, and is on her way to heaven. The brethren rejoice with her, and do you rejoice as well, O sisters. We all of us offer prayers to the Lord for your departed; now you duly offer to the Lord what is due for ours. These names we can send to you written on your lines.

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217. Saint-Julien, Auxerre Entry of the Nuns of Auxerre. Abbesses really ought to die, who order that we, thralls of love, be locked away, as for a grave crime.

40 See Jerome, Against Iovinianum 1.40, where he paraphrases Apocalypse 14:3 as “These are they who sing the New Song which no one can sing unless a virgin” (PL 23:269A). See also his Ep 49.10 (CSEL 54:365). 41 Alluding to Virgil, Aeneid 6.638–39.

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With this torment I’m familiar: locked away in a darksome place, I long survived on penitential bread. The reason for this punishment was that I was accused of daring to love.42 BIBLIOGRAPHY Primary Sources Anselm of Canterbury. S. Anselmi opera omnia. Edited by F. S. Schmitt. 6 vols. Edinburgh: Thomas Nelson, 1946–1961. Baudri of Bourgeuil. Baldricus Burgulianus Carmina. Edited by Karlheinz Hilbert. Heidelberg: Carl Winter Universitätsverlag, 1979. Collins, A. Jefferies, ed. Manuale ad vsum percelebris ecclesie Sarisburiensis. Henry Bradshaw Society, vol. 91. London: Henry Bradshaw Society, 1960. Delisle, Léopold. Rouleaux des morts du IXe au XVe siècle. Société de l’histoire de France, v. 135. Paris: J. Renouard, 1866. ———. Rouleau mortuaire de B. Vital, abbé de Savigny. Edition phototypique. Paris: Librairie H. Champion, 1909. Hesbert, Rene-Jean. Corpus antiphonalium officii. 6 vols. Roma: Herder, 1963–1979. Hilary of Orléans. Hilarii Aurelianensis Versus et Ludi. Edited by Walther Bulst and M. L. Bulst-Thiele. Mittellateinische Studien und Texte 16. Leiden: E. J. Brill, 1989. Hildebert of Le Mans. Hildeberti Cenomannensis episcopi carmina minora. Edited by Brian Stock. Leipzig: B. G. Teubner, 1969. Ordericus Vitalis. The Ecclesiastical History of Ordericus Vitalis. Edited and translated by Marjorie Chibnall. 6 vols. Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1969–1980. Wright, Thomas, ed. The Anglo-Norman Satirical Poets and Epigrammatists of the Twelfth Century. Rolls Series 59. 2 vols. London: Longmans, 1872.

Secondary Works Baylé, Maylis. La Trinité de Caen: Sa place dans l’histoire de l’Architecture et du décor Romans. Bibliothèque de la Société française d’archéologie 10. Geneva: Droz, 1979. Bond, Gerald A. “‘Iocus amoris’: The Poetry of Baudri of Bougeuil and the Formation of the Ovidian Subculture.” Traditio 42 (1986): 143–93. Chibnall, Margorie. Charters and Custumals of the Abbey Holy Trinite Caen. Records of Social and Economic History NS 5. London: British Academy, 1982. Dronke, Peter. Women Writers of the Middle Ages. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1984. Dufour, Jean. “Les rouleaux des morts.” In Codicologica 3: Essais typologiques, edited by A. Gruys and J. P. Gurnbert. Leiden: E. J. Brill, 1980.

42

See the witty translation of these verses by R.W. Southern, The Making of the Middle Ages (New Haven, Conn.: Yale University Press, 1953), p. 24.

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Feiss, Hugh. “A Poet Abbess from Notre-Dame de Saintes.” Magistra 1 (1995): 38–54. Fitzgerald, William. Agonistic Poetry: The Pindaric Mode in Pindar, Horace, Holderlin, and the English Ode. Berkeley: University of California Press, 1987. Huyghebaert, N. Les documents nécrologiques. Typologie des sources du moyen âge occidental 4. Turnhout, Belgium: Brepols, 1972. Johnson, Penelope D. Equal in Monastic Profession: Religious Women in Medieval France. Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1991. Latzke, Therese. “Zum ‘Iudicium de calumnia molendini Brisearte’ und zu den vier Nonnenepisteln des Hilarius.” Mittellateinisches Jahrbuch 16 (1981): 73–96. Musset, Lucien. Les Actes du Guillaume le Conquérant et de la Reine Mathilde pour les abbayes caennaises. Mémoires de la Société des Antiquaires de Normandie 37. Caen: Société des Antiquaires de Normandie, 1967. Potts, Cassandra. Monastic Revival and Regional Identity in Early Normandy. Studies in the History of Medieval Religion 11. Woodbridge: The Boydell Press, 1997. Raine, James, ed. The Obituary Roll of William Ebchester and John Burnby, Priors of Durham. Publications of the Surtees Society 31. Durham: The Surtees Society, 1856. Rigg, A. G. “Metrics.” In Medieval Latin: An Introduction and Bibliographical Guide, edited by F. A. C. Mantello and A. G. Rigg. Washington, D.C.: Catholic University of America Press, 1996. Sauvage, R. N. “Rouleau mortuaire de Marie, Abbesse de La Trinité de Caen.” Bibliothèque de l’École des Chartes 71 (1910): 49–57. Southern, Richard W. The Making of the Middle Ages. New Haven, Conn.: Yale University Press, 1953. Szövérffy, Joseph. Secular Latin Lyrics and Minor Poetic Forms of the Middle Ages: A Historical Survey and Literary Repertory from the Tenth to the Late Fifteenth Century. 4 vols. Concord: Classical Folia Editions, 1992–1994. Van Houts, Elisabeth M. C. The Gesta Normannorum Ducum of William of Jumiège, Ordericus Vitalis, and Robert of Torigni. 2 vols. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1992–1995. Walmsley, John. “The Early Abbesses, Nuns and Female Tenants of the Abbey of Holy Trinity, Caen.” Journal of Ecclesiastical History 48 (1997): 425–44.

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Hildegard of Bingen: The Teutonic Prophetess Tatiana Tsakiropoulou-Summers

Hildegard of Bingen was an exceptional woman, endowed with extraordinary powers, including a dynamic personality, determination, and confidence, which, despite her sickly body, sprang from the power of her spirit and her tremendous belief in God. She managed not only to survive the negative attitudes toward women in the Middle Ages but also to triumph (at least during her lifetime) over adverse social and religious forces. Born in 1089, tenth child in the aristocratic family of Hildebert and Mechthilde of Bermersheim in Rheinhessen, Hildegard was consecrated to God by her parents when she was eight, following the custom of the German elite of the time. They placed her under the care of a well-known anchoress named Jutta, who was at the time living in a cell attached to the Benedictine monastery for men at Disibodenberg. By about 1113, when Hildegard took her vows as a nun, the anchorage had metamorphosed into a small community of nuns with Jutta as their spiritual leader. When Jutta died in 1136, the female monastic community unanimously chose Hildegard to be their leader, though she was only thirty-eight years old. Hildegard’s healing skills, deep compassion, clairvoyant abilities, and probably latent administrative gifts combined to generate her reputation as an extraordinary humanist who effectively assisted anyone asking for her help. Hildegard is best known for her visions, which she claims she had, beginning at the age of five, throughout her life; the extraordinary illuminations accompanying her written account of them have contributed to her fame. She reports that for a long time she tried to hide her supernatural experiences as best she could because she was haunted by feelings of fear and embarrassment. At the age of forty-three, however, Hildegard relates, she received instructions from God to 133

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write down what she saw and heard in her visions.1 From that moment on, the quiet clairvoyant nun emerged as a dynamic writer and a prophet who almost immediately became widely known.2 However, she rarely talked about the way the visions appeared to her, and in her works there are barely enough details to establish the authenticity of their divine source.3 Hildegard insisted that she did not relish her new role and that at first she tried to ignore the divine orders by withdrawing deeper into the monastic life. However, as she recounts, she was struck by such debilitating bouts of pain and illness that she was forced to accept God’s will. This decision also made her change her attitude toward her illnesses: she no longer feared for her life, but viewed her suffering as a divine instrument meant to prevent her from becoming overly proud on account of her visions, accomplishments, and talents. Hildegard’s letter to Guibert of Gembloux (included in this volume) provides the most detailed account of the physical ailments, probably migraines, that Hildegard suffered throughout her life beginning at a very young age.4 The pain weakened her body and often forced her to bed for long periods of time, filling her with fear for her own life. It is worth noting, though, that Hildegard’s illnesses seem to have surfaced at key moments in her life, especially when she needed authoritative support for decisions and plans that defied the social norms for women in the Middle Ages. Gottfried and Theoderic report in their Vita that “she suffered with this [debilitating] kind of illness . . . whenever, because of her womanly fear, she hesitated or doubted to carry out the command of the Divine Will” (Vita 42), and they observe that this kind of correlation between illness and direction in literary activity is rare. Hildegard was systematically using medieval prejudices about women to her advantage, and, paradoxically, her self-descriptions as a weak and timid person give additional power to her writings. Hildegard’s phenomenal success (and her appeal to modern readers) is due precisely to the fact that she upheld the social conventions and standards of her times while at the same time undermining them methodically through her actions. Therefore, neither her complacent attitude toward her physical and mental abilities as a woman nor her vocal consent to the inferiority of her gender can be taken at face value; instead, her statements should be considered within the framework of her success in getting past the seemingly insurmountable obstacles that stood in her way. As Bernard Scholz observes, “it is difficult not to see in her visionary experience and activism, as well as her claim for the mission of woman in a male-dominated age, a gesture of protest, the reaction of an intelligent and energetic woman who chafed under the restraints imposed on women by the culture in which she lived.”5 These considerations ultimately eliminate some of the discrepancies in Hildegard’s life and work. For example, Hildegard appears quite proud (if this word fits one who was the embodiment of humbleness) of her unconquerable spirit and the power of her will, despite her physical weakness and constant bouts of illnesses. Gottfried and Theoderic wrote that “she liked to boast of her weakness so that the power of Christ might live in her. She believed that the more she

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was punished, so much the more was she loved.”6 And Hildegard herself pronounced: “I—of delicate body and timorous heart—was severely frightened by my pains. Still, God gave me the strength to suffer with patience” (Vita 62f.). There were times when Hildegard apparently used her physical condition to impose her will on those in power who opposed her. In 1148, for example, she was urged by a vision to leave with the other nuns and establish her own convent. However, because of the wide recognition, fame, and wealth that the nuns, especially Hildegard herself, brought to Disibodenberg, neither her Benedictine brothers nor their abbot, Kuno, wanted the nuns to leave. A comment in her Vita suggests the monks were not alone in their opposition to what must have seemed an outrageous plan—for a group of noble and wealthy nuns to give up the comfort and safety of Disibodenberg and venture forth on their own. When Kuno refused to allow her to leave his monastery and found her own, Hildegard took to her sick bed and lay there immovable (despite even Kuno’s efforts to lift her up himself) until she was granted the permission she was so stubbornly seeking; the moment she obtained it, she immediately got up and her health was completely restored. According to surviving accounts from witnesses, the restoration of her health was interpreted as a sign of the divine will. Throughout her career Hildegard had to contend with the resistance of her medieval world toward women’s public activities and negative assumptions about women’s intellectual abilities. In the Middle Ages, women were denied formal education, just as they were not allowed to hold priestly offices or become preachers and spiritual counselors. The most common kind of education offered to women was some vernacular literacy through informal tutoring; this was reserved, however, mainly for noble women who were either going to manage large households or were consecrated to God, in which cases they needed some schooling. Otherwise, literacy was not considered necessary for women.7 Hildegard’s first formal teacher was her abbess, Jutta, who (as we read in Hildegard’s biography) gave her a fairly typical education for a woman of her status (which was by no means comparable to what men in similar positions would have received): Jutta guided her studies of the scriptures (including the basics in Latin) and taught her how to sing the psalms and the monastic Office and to perform domestic skills appropriate for noble women, such as embroidery. When Hildegard started writing her first visionary work, the Scivias, she used the argument of lack of formal schooling to establish the authority of her visions. She often refers to herself as indocta (“uneducated”) to stress that she could not have understood even the content of her own visions without the aid of the Holy Spirit.8 That this was only a ploy is evinced by the fact that after Jutta’s death Hildegard did take another mentor, Volmar, who was an exceptional monk, very well educated and, apparently, open minded. Throughout their long collaboration that lasted more than thirty years, Volmar not only guided Hildegard’s studies in assisting her to complete her education in a more formal way but also edited

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her works. Hildegard greatly appreciated and was grateful for the stimulation she received from her conversations with Volmar and the knowledge she acquired from him. Most likely, it was Volmar’s scholastic training that directed Hildegard in the method of research, scientific observation, and systematic recording that she employed in her scientific studies. Under Volmar’s guidance, Hildegard developed into a distinguished polymath. She became the first German female doctor, in the sense that she differentiated herself from the traditional female healers that abounded in medieval Europe by applying medical procedures, as described in professional handbooks, combined with treatments based on nonliterary sources; she was also the first woman in her country to research nature and write down her observations in a systematic way. Hildegard began her career with visionary literature. Even though she claims that it was God who guided both her words and her deeds, at the same time it is true that visions and divinely inspired knowledge were probably the only acceptable media for a nun who wished to make her debut in the male-dominated world of literature, science, and theology in the Middle Ages. As Elizabeth Petroff writes, Visions led [medieval] women to the acquisition of power in the world while affirming their knowledge of themselves as women. Visions were a socially sanctioned activity that freed women from conventional female roles. . . . They brought [the medieval woman] to the attention of others, giving her a public language she could use to teach and learn. Her visions gave her the strength to . . . build convents, found hospitals, preach, attack injustice and greed, even within the church. . . . Finally, visions allowed [her] to be an artist, composing and refining her most profound experiences.9

Therefore, assertions of religious illnesses as well as constant pronouncements of divine inspiration protected Hildegard against the suspicions and objections of her superiors. She herself confessed the original trepidation she felt at the thought of revealing her visions, let alone writing them down. Her male biographers were quick to make these fears seem legitimate by locating them properly in her “womanly timidity, [and] fear of what people might say, and the rash judgements of others” (Vita 38). It would be more realistic, however, to suppose that the basis of her hesitation can be traced mainly to the clergy’s rigorous scrutiny of claims of visionary activity.10 The risk of writing down her visions and thus making them public was great, considering that her male confessor was vested with the power to proclaim the experiences either true or feigned; should she fail to prove their truthfulness, besides suffering certain punishment, she would be silenced and never allowed the opportunity to be given a hearing. These real risks highlight Hildegard’s remarkable accomplishments: not only did she find at least three

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mentors and confessors who were sympathetic to her visions and her aspirations—first Volmar, then later Gottfried, briefly, and finally Guibert of Gembloux—but she also was given direct papal approval. When Pope Eugene III read selections from Hildegard’s Scivias at the synod of Trier (1147–1148), in front of the assembled clerics, he formally endorsed her writings and visionary powers. This was enough to encourage Hildegard to express herself freely and to pursue an undaunted literary activity in the face of great resistance for the rest of her life. There seems little doubt, however, that Hildegard perceived herself as God’s instrument and understood her existence as belonging totally to Him. This means that she believed that God could use her for His own purposes at will, and that in the process He was to guide her actions and direct her words. In this sense, every action, word, thought, imaginary perception, or even literary exposition of hers could be viewed as being for God, through God, and by God. The rest of Hildegard’s literary career supports the hypothesis that she began with visionary literature largely because the social conventions of her time compelled her to do so. Even though she initially explored the possibilities of visionary literature with an extensive trilogy,11 she was not confined to it. Once she gained the authoritative approval of the pope and managed to move away from the vigilant supervision of her male peers in Disibodenberg, she felt free to embark on an exploration of other genres, including scientific writing, poetry, music, theological discourse, as well as public speaking. Hildegard’s wide interests included ancient Greek and Roman literature as well. She was able to quote freely from Boethius’s Consolation of Philosophy, while in her works there are numerous traces of Pythagorean and Neoplatonic influences. Her writings on theological matters are equally impressive; she wrote an extensive treatise in complex language explaining a theological thesis in a response to Bishop Eberhard, and she outlined her cosmic theology in imposing terms in Liber divinorum operum (the book of God’s Work). She has also been considered a forerunner of Protestantism, a proponent of Gregorian reform, and a champion of clerical purity. Hildegard’s mind was so complex in its expressions that she has even been compared to Carl Jung for the striking imagery in her writings and her ability to decipher the meaning of symbols. Between 1158 and 1171 she undertook four difficult preaching campaigns and traveled hundreds of miles mostly on horseback or on foot. Hildegard claims that she was driven to this mission by the Holy Spirit in order to profess the will of God against the heresy of the Cathari and renew the faith among laity and clergy. In the Middle Ages, such apostolic activities were unusual for women while public preaching by a woman was even more rare.12 And yet Hildegard’s sermons were not only dynamic but also revealed a deep understanding of the inner conflicts and the theological problems faced by the communities she visited. Hildegard’s extraordinary activities and gifts brought her both passionate supporters and fanatic detractors. For example, toward the end of her life, the prelates of Mainz issued an interdict for her convent after she authorized burial in consecrated ground of a man who had been

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excommunicated. The interdict on the convent meant that the nuns could no longer enjoy any of the privileges of their monastic life—as they were forbidden to worship God publicly, sing His praises in the monastic Office, receive communion, or sound the church bells. In order to fight this unjust punishment, Hildegard composed a letter (included in this volume) explaining to her judges the circumstances of the event and defending her decision and her convent. This situation occasioned one of the most profound twelth-century treatises on music, since in that letter Hildegard articulated her philosophy about the significance of music in worship and the duty of singing for God. Hildegard’s sensitivity and talent were keenly expressed in her melodious compositions, the seventy-seven songs of her Symphonia (she wrote both words and music), and the Ordo virtutum (the Rank of Virtues), a musical play in which the virtues, representing the powers of God, empower the soul to resist the attacks of Evil (Vita 16). The songs, on the other hand, even though based on the basic formula of the Gregorian chant, are surprisingly fresh in their musical composition. They were originally composed for her own convent, constituting the basis of the Office, but soon became popular and spread to other monasteries. Her scientific treatises span a wide range of interests, from the composition and function of the natural world (Natural History) to diseases that plagued humanity and their cures (Causes and Cures); she even created a language of her own and a glossary in the Unknown Language and the Unknown Writing. She also wrote several works on theological problems (Solutions to Thirty-Eight Questions), as well as the allegorical Commentaries on the Gospels, a commentary on the Rule of St. Benedict and one on the Athanasian Creed. However, neither Hildegard nor her biographers, Gottfried and Theoderic, ever credited Hildegard’s teachers or her own assiduous efforts in learning as the source of her broad knowledge; on the contrary, both parties saw everywhere in her writings the marks of divine enlightenment. For example, Gottfried and Theoderic wrote that “in everything, she showed evidence of sound doctrine whether she was talking about natural history, the battle between the flesh and spirit, or the example of the early Fathers, just as she had received it from divine revelation” (Vita 66). Hildegard was adamant in her claim that almost all she knew came from God and was not the result of human training: “I composed and sang without being taught by human beings although I had never studied composition or song” (Vita 52). Even her poetry was attributed to divine inspiration, as though her own experience in writing Latin and her inherent talent were not enough: “Who would not be astonished,” Gottfried and Theoderic exclaimed, “over the fact that she composed songs with the most beautiful melodies in wonderful harmony in a language she had previously never heard spoken?” (Vita 48). Despite the numerous books Hildegard wrote in Latin, Gottfried and Theoderic still emphasized her ineptness in Latin composition, in noting that Hildegard “wrote down by hand or dictated . . . [whatever she heard and saw in

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the Spirit] to Volmar. . . . This man corrected her language according to the rules of grammar which she did not adequately know: the cases, the tenses, and the genders” (Vita 48f.). In a letter to Pope Hadrian, Hildegard herself wrote that in one of her visions she was told explicitly that she lacked the ability to translate properly into Latin the content of her visions and “therefore, whoever has the file should zealously improve on it in accordance with the common parlance” (Vita 49). And yet, Hildegard is proven unquestionably an accomplished writer in her correspondence, and especially in the letters composed after Volmar’s death, in which she uses rhetorical figures of speech as well as complex and fluent sentences with ease.13 Therefore, it is not unwarranted to assume that the incessant undermining of Hildegard’s role as an independent thinker and the persistent emphasis placed on the divine source of all her works, including her correspondence, constituted a well-orchestrated effort to lend authority to her female voice. In a letter to Pope Eugene III (1148), Hildegard revealed her struggle with prejudice against her gender in writing that “many earthly minded, clever people cast my letter away in the fickleness of their spirit because it comes from a poor woman who was created from a rib and has not been instructed by philosophers.”14 Since her gender served as a critical obstacle, Hildegard invariably had to establish her authority over considerable resistance from her male peers and superiors. This explains also why Hildegard often stressed the irony of her inferior nature as a woman (for instance, referring to herself as paupercula feminea forma, a poor little woman’s shape) in letters otherwise notable for the boldness of her reproach heaped on secular and religious dignitaries. Some have interpreted this antinomy as an expression of her cynicism, but it would be more in concert with Hildegard’s character to view it as a strategy for protecting herself and her work. Hildegard herself explained the discrepancy at various instances with a line of argumentation that runs roughly like this: God must have chosen an uneducated and timid woman as His mouthpiece only because the higher clergy had fallen so low in moral matters. It was important that Hildegard not appear to breach the rule of humility: her staunch censorship could have made her seem arrogant rather than humble, since she hardly ever bowed before any secular or religious authority. Her humble approach therefore allowed her to censor higher authorities relatively safely and at the same time earned her the reputation of being a “Teutonic prophetess.” For example, in 1164 Hildegard clashed openly with the German king and Roman emperor Frederick I, Barbarossa (1152–1190), who caused a schism in the church by appointing antipopes. In her four letters to Frederick (one of which is included in this volume), she severely chastised the foolishness of his actions and warned him of God’s revenge. She also reprimanded the archbishop of Mainz and accurately predicted his downfall. Nevertheless, Hildegard was concerned with the reception of her criticism, which in the end was both effective and well received largely because she played

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along with the established conventions: Her practice of belittling herself and asserting her role as the instrument of God prevented her from offending her addressees. Her wisdom and sensitivity perceived the problem of human vanity as well as of social disbelief and suspicion toward anything that was coming out of a woman’s mouth. As she wrote in her autobiography, “many said: ‘What does it mean that such secrets are revealed by this silly, uneducated woman when there are so many sturdy and wise men around? This has to be stopped!’” (Vita 56). In the end, however, Hildegard’s voice was heard. Her confidence and fearless attitude were inimitable and she managed to vindicate herself both as a woman and as a powerful critic. Bernard Scholz notes poignantly that “[Hildegard] castigated a pope for his timidity and an emperor for moral blindness. She taught scholars and preached to clergy and laity as no woman before her had ever done.”15 In this respect, Hildegard’s contribution in promoting an unparalleled confidence in women’s potential and introducing their cardinal role in society was considerable.16 Hildegard was a tireless person who joyfully undertook more obligations than seemed humanly possible. In the midst of her preaching, traveling, healing the sick, running convents, founding new ones, and giving personal advice to those who asked for it, Hildegard found time to exchange a large number of letters with people from all walks of life. Her voluminous correspondence affected deeply the world around her, making her one of the few influential women of her time among religious and political leaders alike. In her letters, she neither appears intimidated by the powerful position of her correspondents nor does she ever hesitate to censure them for their vices. On the contrary, Hildegard became notorious for the harshness of her tongue when it came to censoring adultery, selfaggrandizement, violence, or murder, regardless of the perpetrator’s status. The caliber of Hildegard’s accomplishments remained uncontested for a long time, but despite her reputation during her lifetime, she was soon forgotten after her death. Her example as the first woman who traveled throughout her country to preach the word of God, or the first one in her country to make scientific observations and write manuals about widely diverse topics, was not repeated and her work was neglected for almost eight hundred years.17 Hildegard’s star shone briefly, albeit brightly. In this volume, I have tried to include a variety of excerpts from her voluminous work, in an effort to represent the many facets of Hildegard’s boundless talent, her diverse interests, and her indefatigable personality. Nevertheless nothing short of examining the thick volume of her Opera Omnia can give an accurate impression of this woman’s achievement.

NOTES 1.

Information about Hildegard’s visions and the physical illnesses associated with them is available in the opening of the Scivias, in her letter to Guibert of Gembloux (included in this volume), and in her two vitae, both entitled Vita sanctae

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2.

3.

4.

5. 6.

7. 8. 9. 10. 11.

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Hildegardis. Only part of the first of these, written by Hildegard herself and later edited by Guibert, survives. J. B. Pitra published the fragment in Analecta S. Hildegardis, vol. 8 of Analecta Sacra (Monte Cassino: Typis Sacri Montis Casinensis, 1882; rpt. Farnborough, U.K.: Gregg, 1966). Peter Dronke also includes the fragmentary vita in Women Writers of the Middle Ages: A Critical Study of Texts from Perpetua († 203) to Marguerite Porete († 1310) (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1984, pp. 231–41). The second vita, written by the monks Gottfried and Theoderic, is published in the Patrologia Latina and has been translated by James McGrath, The Life of the Holy Hildegard by the Monks Gottfried and Theoderic, ed. Adelgundis Führkötter (Collegeville, Minn.: Liturgical Press, 1995). In this essay every reference to the vita is to Gottfried and Theoderic’s text. Hildegard was nicknamed the “Sybil of Rhine” for the accuracy of her predictions; see Marjorie Reeves, The Influence of Prophecy in the Later Middle Ages (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1969), passim, and Frances Beer, Women and Mystical Experience in the Middle Ages (Rochester, N.Y.: Boydell and Brewer, 1992), p. 21. Hildegard did not write about the nature of her experiences until she was seventyseven, when she described them in a letter to Guibert of Gembloux, a monk who had asked her for a detailed account; see James McGrath, trans., The Life of the Holy Hildegard by the Monks Gottfried and Theoderic, ed. Adelgundis Führkötter (Collegeville, Minn.: Liturgical Press, 1995), pp. 5–6. On the connection between migraines and visionary activity see Charles Singer, From Magic to Science, 2d ed. (New York: Dover Publications, 1958), and Oliver Sacks, Migraine: Understanding a Common Disorder (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1985). Hildegard’s account of her symptoms in her letter to Guibert of Gembloux (which is included in this volume) led to the clinical diagnosis of her condition. Bernard W. Scholz, “Hildegard von Bingen on the Nature of Woman,” American Benedictine Review 31 (1984): 360. For a discussion of this motif, see Barbara Newman, “Divine Power Made Perfect in Weakness: St. Hildegard on the Frail Sex,” in Peaceweavers, vol. 2 of Medieval Religious Women, ed. L. T. Shank and J. Nichols (Kalamazoo, Mich.: Cistercian Publications, 1987), pp. 103–22. See Eileen Power, “The Education of Women,” in Medieval Women, ed. M. M. Postan (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1975), pp. 76–88. See Beer, Women and Mystical Experience, pp. 17ff. Elizabeth A. Petroff, Medieval Women’s Visionary Literature (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1986), p. 6. On the mistrust of the institutional church toward women and its opposition to their success see Petroff, Visionary Literature, p. 20. Hildegard reports that recording the first part of the trilogy, the Scivias (an abbreviation for Scito vias [Domini], meaning “Know the Ways of the Lord”), required ten years. The second part of the trilogy is the Liber vitae meritorum (The Book of a Meritorious Life) and the third, the Liber divinorum operum (The Book of Divine Works). The whole trilogy relied on Hildegard’s visions and was accompanied by a series of magnificent illustrations, which she most likely personally

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12.

13. 14.

15. 16. 17.

Tatiana Tsakiropoulou-Summers directed. Hildegard wrote that the illuminations caused further meditation and led her to a deeper understanding of her visions. Very few women are attested to have preached publicly in the Middle Ages; see Lina Eckenstein, Woman under Monasticism (New York: Russell and Russell, 1963), passim. See Peter Dronke, Women Writers, pp. 193–95, as well as the letter to Ludwig, abbot of Trier, in this volume. Adelgundis Führkötter, trans., Briefwechsel (Epistolae) (Salzburg: O. Müller, 1965), pp. 30ff.; see also Barbara Newman, Sister of Wisdom: St. Hildegard’s Theology of the Feminine (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1987). On comparing her writing style to that of the philosophers, see her letter to Guibert of Gembloux in this volume. Scholz, “Nature of Woman,” p. 360. On Hildegard’s optimistic defiance of social antifeminist norms, see Beer, Women and Mystical Experience, pp. 22ff. For a good overview of Hildegard’s neglect and the recent interest in her as an important figure in women’s history, see Mother Columba Hart and Jane Bishop, trans., Hildegard of Bingen: Scivias (New York: Paulist Press, 1990), p. 1.

SCIVIAS1 Incipit Liber Scivias Simplicis Hominis:2 Protestificatio Veracium Visionum A Deo Fluentium Et ecce quadragesimo tertio temporalis cursus mei anno, cum caelesti visioni magno timore et tremula intentione inhaererem, vidi maximum splendorem, in quo facta est vox de caelo ad me dicens: O homo fragilis, et cinis cineris, et putredo putredinis, dic et scribe quae vides et audis. Sed quia timida es ad loquendum et simplex ad exponendum et indocta ad

1

Spelling has been regularized according to modern conventions for Latin spelling for reasons of consistency. The reader should be aware, however, that while for the most part the manuscripts follow the medieval spelling (as it appears in Dronke, for example), there is not much agreement on the conventions of spelling even among the early editors of Hildegard. Below is a brief list of some of the modern conventions of classical Latin orthography, with the medieval spelling in parentheses: cum (quom), mihi (michi), nihilo (nichilo), harmonia (armonia), prae- (pre-), v (u: uox), ns (nt: ascentio), m ⫹ labial (n ⫹ labial: inponitur), t (c: diviciis), oe (e: celesta), etc. 2 The Latin text of the Scivias is from the edition of Adelgundis Führkötter and Angela Carlevaris, eds. Scivias, Corpus christianorum: continuatio mediaevalis, vols. 43 and 43A (Turnhout, Belgium: Brepols, 1978). Note that this subtitle does not appear in the edition in the Patrologia Latina [J. P. Migne, ed., S. Hildegardis Abbatissae Opera Omnia, vol. 197 (Paris, 1855), pp. 383ff.], which instead prints: Sanctae Hildegardis Scivias sive Visionum ac Revelationum Libri Tres. Liber Primus. Praefatio (“Scivias or the Three Books of Visions and Revelations” by St. Hildegard. Book One. Introduction).

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scribendum ea, dic et scribe illa non secundum os hominis nec secundum intellectum humanae adinventionis nec secundum voluntatem humanae compositionis, sed secundum id quod ea in caelestibus desuper in mirabilibus Dei vides et audis, ea sic edisserendo proferens, quemadmodum et auditor verba praeceptoris sui percipiens, ea secundum tenorem locutionis illius, ipso volente, ostendente et praecipiente propalat. Sic ergo et tu, o homo, dic ea quae vides et audis; et scribe ea non secundum te nec secundum alium hominem, sed secundum voluntatem scientis, videntis et disponentis omnia in secretis mysteriorum suorum.

Et iterum audivi vocem de caelo mihi dicentem: “Dic ergo mirabilia haec et scribe ea hoc modo edocta et dic.” Factum est in millesimo centesimo quadragesimo primo Filii Dei Iesu Christi incarnationis anno, cum quadraginta duorum annorum septemque mensium essem, maximae coruscationis igneum lumen aperto caelo veniens totum cerebrum meum transfudit et totum cor totumque pectus meum velut flamma non tamen ardens sed calens ita inflammavit, ut sol rem aliquam calefacit super quam radios suos ponit. Et repente intellectum expositionis librorum, videlicet psalterii, evangelii et aliorum catholicorum tam veteris quam novi Testamenti voluminum sapiebam, non autem interpretationem verborum textus eorum nec divisionem syllabarum nec cognitionem casuum aut temprorum habebam. Virtutem autem et mysterium secretarum et admirandarum visionum a puellari aetate, scilicet a tempore illo cum quinquennis essem usque ad praesens tempus mirabili modo in me senseram sicut et adhuc; quod tamen nulli hominum exceptis quibusdam paucis et religiosis qui in eadem conversatione vivebant, qua et ego eram, manifestavi; sed interim usque ad id temporis cum illud Deus sua gratia manifestari voluit, sub quieto silentio depressi. Visiones vero quas vidi, non eas in somnis, nec dormiens, nec in phrenesi, nec corporeis oculis aut auribus exterioris hominis, nec in abditis locis percepi, sed eas vigilans et circumspecta in pura mente, oculis et auribus interioris hominis, in apertis locis, secundum voluntatem Dei accepi. Quod quomodo sit, carnali homini perquirere difficile est. Sed puellari meta transacta, cum ad praefatam aetatem perfectae fortitudinis pervenissem, audivi vocem de caelo dicentem: Ego lux vivens et obscura illuminans hominem quem volui et quem mirabiliter secundum quod mihi placuit excussi in magnis mirabilibus trans metam antiquorum hominum, qui in me multa secreta viderunt, posui; sed in terram stravi illum, quod se non erigeret in ulla elatione mentis suae. Mundus quoque non habuit in eo gaudium nec lasciviam nec exercitationem in rebus illis quae ad mundum pertinent, quia eum de pertinaci audacia abstraxi, timorem habentem et in laboribus suis paventem. Ipse enim in medullis et in venis carnis suae doluit, constrictum animum et sensum habens atque multam passionem corporis sustinens, ita quod in eo diversa securitas non latuit, sed in omnibus causis suis se culpabilem aestimavit. Nam rimas

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cordis eius circumsaepsi, ne mens ipsius per superbiam aut per gloriam se elevaret, sed ut magis in omnibus his timorem et dolorem quam gaudium aut quam petulantiam haberet. Unde in amore meo scrutatus est in animo suo, ubi illum inveniret, qui viam salutis curreret. Et quendam invenit et eum amavit, agnoscens quod fidelis homo esset et similis sibi in aliqua parte laboris illius qui ad me tendit. Tenensque eum simul cum illo in omnibus his per supernum studium contendit, ut absconsa miracula mea revelarentur. Et idem homo super semetipsum se non posuit, sed ad illum in ascensione humilitatis et in intentione bonae voluntatis, quem invenit, se in multis suspiriis inclinavit. Tu ergo, o homo, qui haec non in inquietudine deceptionis, sed in puritate simplicitatis accipis ad manifestationem absconditorum directa, scribe quae vides et audis.

Sed ego, quamvis haec viderem et audirem, tamen propter dubietatem et malam opinionem et propter diversitatem verborum hominum, tamdiu non in pertinacia, sed in humilitatis officio scribere recusavi, quousque in lectum aegritudinis flagello Dei depressa caderem; ita quod tandem multis infirmitatibus compulsa, testimonio cuiusdam nobilis et bonorum morum puellae et hominis illius, quem occulte, ut praefatum est, quaesieram et inveneram, manus ad scribendum apposui. Quod dum facerem, altam profunditatem expositionis librorum, ut praedixi, sentiens, viribusque receptis de aegritudine me erigens, vix opus istud decem annis consummans ad finem perduxi. In diebus Heinrici moguntini archiepiscopi et Conradi Romanorum regis et Cunonis abbatis in monte beati Disibodi pontificis, sub papa Eugenio, hae visiones et verba facta sunt. Et dixi et scripsi haec non secundum adinventionem cordis mei aut ullius hominis, sed ut ea in caelestibus vidi, audivi et percepi per secreta mysteria Dei. Et iterum audivi vocem de caelo mihi dicentem: “Clama ergo et scribe sic.” EPISTOLAE Hildegardis de modo visitationis suae3 Guiberto respondet Hildegardis, ac premisso humili sui ipsius respectu, et considerata hominis lubrica fragilitate repetit ab infantia seriem perpetuam visionum, modumque et rationem revelationis seu visitationis suae exponit,

3 See J.-B. Pitra, ed., “Analecta opera Sanctae Hildegardis,” in Analecta sacra, Vol. 8. Monte Cassino: Typis Sacri Montis Casinensis, 1882; rpt. Farnborough, U.K.: Gregg, 1966 p. 331 ff.; and Peter Dronke, Women Writers of the Middle Ages: A Critical Study of Texts from Perpetua (†203) to Marguerite Porete (†1310) (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1984), p. 250 ff. The text that appears here does not follow exactly either of the two editions, but it is based on a new collation of the readings of codex R (the Riesencodex from Wiesbaden) and G (the Gembloux codex from Brussels).

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et quo sermone, quali memori intellectu, quali etiam cum infirmitate se habeat, comminiscitur.4 Haec verba non a me, nec ab alio homine dico, sed ea ut in superna visione accepi, profero. O serve Dei, per speculum fidei, in qua Deum cognoscendo intendis, et, o fili Dei, per formationem hominis, in quem Deus miracula sua constituit et signavit, quia sicut speculum in quo quaecumque videntur, vasi suo imponitur, ita rationalis anima corpori velut fictili vasi immittitur; quatenus per ipsam corpus videndo regatur, et anima per fidem coelestia contempletur, audi quod indeficiens lumen dicit: Homo coelestis et terrestris est: per bonam quidem scientiam rationalis animae, coelestis, et per malam, fragilis et tenebrosus; et quanto se in bono cognoscit, tanto amplius Deum diligit. Nam si vultum suum in speculo sordidatum et pulvere sparsum aspexerit, mundare et tergere studet: ita etiam si se peccasse et varietati vanitatum se implicitum esse intellexerit, gemat, quoniam in bona scientia se pollutum scit. Et cum psalmista plangat, dicens: Filia Babilonis misera, beatus qui retribuet tibi retributionem tuam, quam retribuisti nobis. Beatus qui tenebit et allidet parvulos tuos ad petram. Quod est: Humana concupiscentia per spumam serpentis est confusa. Ipsa etiam pauper et egena est, quoniam in speculativa scientia honorifica opinione caret: scilicet, quod gloriam aeternae vitae, quam per bonam scientiam gustat, a Deo quaerendo non desiderat. Beatus autem ille est, qui tenebit hoc, quod a Deo vivit, et cuius scientia eum docet, quod Deus eum creaverit et redemerit; et qui propter liberationem hanc, qua Deus ipsum liberavit, omnem malam consuetudinem peccatorum suorum conterit, et omnem miseriam et paupertatem, quam in coelestibus divitiis habet, supra petram illam, quae firmamentum beatitudinis est, proicit. Nam cum homo lutulentam putredinem se habere scit, et nequaquam a gustu peccatorum se continere valet, nigerrimae aves eum totum sordidant; sed tunc ipse per rationalem animam, quam nec videt, nec cognoscit, in Deum credendo confidat. Et licet homo se sic esse et in infinita vita vivere sciat, se tamen continere non potest, quin frequenter peccet; et ideo, o quam mirabilis et lamentabilis vox est, quod Deus talia fictilia vasa quandoque miraculis suis stellata facit, cum tamen ipsa non valeant peccata deserere, nisi quantum per gratiam Dei ipsis prohibetur. Petrus namque securus non fuit, qui Filium Dei se numquam negaturum ardenter promisit; sic nec alii multi sancti, qui in peccatis ceciderunt, qui tamen postea utiliores et perfectiores facti sunt, quam fuisssent, si non cecidissent. O serve fidelis, ego paupercula feminea forma, in vera visione haec verba iterum dico tibi. Si Deo placeret, ut corpus meum sicut et animam in hac visione

4

The Latin summary is added by Pitra.

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levaret, timor tamen ex mente et ex corde meo non recederet, quia me hominem esse scio, quamvis ab infantia mea inclusa sim. Multi autem sapientes miraculis ita confusi sunt, ut plurima secreta aperirent: sed propter vanam gloriam, illa sibimetipsis ascripserunt, et ideo ceciderunt. Sed qui in ascensione animae sapientiam a Deo hauserunt, et se pro nihilo computabant, hi columnae coeli facti sunt. Sicut et in Paulo contigit, qui ceteros discipulos praedicando praecessit, et tamen se quasi pro nihilo habebat. Joannes quoque evangelista miti humilitate plenus erat, quapropter de Divinitate multa hauriebat. Et unde hoc esset, si ego paupercula me non cognoscerem? Deus ubi vult, ad gloriam nominis sui, et non terreni hominis, operatur. Ego quidem semper trementem timorem habeo, quoniam nullam securitatem ullius possibilitatis in me scio. Sed manus meas ad Deum porrigo, quatenus velut penna, quae omni gravedine virium caret, et quae per ventum volat, ab ipso sustinear; nec ea quae video, perfecte scire possum, quamdiu in corporali officio sum et in anima invisibili, quoniam in his duobus homini defectus est. Ab infantia autem mea, ossibus et nervis et venis meis nondum confortata, visionem hanc in anima mea usque ad praesens tempus semper video, cum iam plus quam septuaginta annorum sim, et anima mea, prout Deus voluerit, in hac visione, sursum in altitudinem firmamenti, et in vicissitudinem diversi aeris ascendit, atque inter diversos populos se dilatat, quamvis in longinquis regionibus et locis a me remoti sint. Et quoniam haec tali modo in anima mea video, idcirco etiam secundum vicissitudinem nubium et aliarum creaturarum ea conspicio. Ista autem nec exterioribus auribus audio, nec cogitationibus cordis mei, nec ulla collatione quinque sensuum meorum percipio, sed tantum in anima mea, apertis exterioribus oculis, ita ut nunquam in eis defectum ecstasis passa sim, sed vigilanter die ac nocte illa video. Et assidue infirmitatibus constringor, et gravibus doloribus multotiens ita implicata sum, ut mihi mortem inferre minentur; sed Deus usque adhuc me suscitavit. Lumen igitur quod video locale non est, sed nube quae solem portat multo lucidius; nec altitudinem, nec longitudinem nec latitudinem, in eo considerare valeo, et illud Umbra Viventis Luminis5 mihi nominatur. Atque ut sol, luna et stellae in aqua apparent, ita scripturae, sermones, virtutes, et quaedam opera hominum formata in illo mihi resplendent. Quidquid autem in hac visione videro seu didicero, huius memoriam per longum tempus habeo; ita quod quando illud viderim et audierim, recordor, et simul video, audio, scio, et quasi in momento hoc quod scio, disco; quod autem non video, illud nescio, quia indocta sum; sed tantum litteras in simplicitate legere instructa sum. Et ea quae scribo in visione, video et audio; nec alia verba

5

There is no consistency in either codex regarding the term used for the name of the Light; so it appears both as Umbra Viventis Luminis and Umbra Viventis Lucis.

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pono, quam illa quae audio et latinis verbis non limatis ea profero, quaemadmodum illa in visione audio: quoniam sicut philosophi scribunt, scribere in hac visione non doceor; et verba in visione ista non sunt, sicut verba quae ab ore hominis sonant, sed sicut flamma coruscans, et ut nubes in aere puro mota. Huius quoque luminis formam nullo modo congnoscere valeo, sicut nec sphaeram solis perfecte intueri possum. In eodem lumine aliam lucem, quae Lux vivens mihi nominata est, interdum et non frequenter video; et quando et quomodo illam videam proferre non valeo; atque interim dum illam video, omnis tristitia et omnis angustia a me aufertur, ita ut tunc velut mores simplicis puellae, et non vetulae mulieris, habeam. Sed et prae assidua infirmitate, quam patior, aliquando tedium habeo verba et visiones quae mihi ibi ostenduntur proferre. Sed tamen cum anima mea gustando illa videt, in alios mores ita convertor, quod (ut supra dixi) omnem dolorem et tribulationem oblivioni trado. Et quae tunc in eadem visione video et audio, haec anima mea quasi ex fonte haurit, sed illa tamen semper plena et inexhausta manet. Anima autem mea nulla hora caret prefato lumine, quod Umbra Viventis Luminis vocatur, et illud video, velut in lucida nube firmamentum absque stellis inspiciam, et in ipso video quae frequenter loquor, et quae interrogantibus de fulgore praedictae Viventis Lucis respondeo. In visione etiam vidi quod primus liber visionum mearum Scivias diceretur, quoniam per viam Viventis Luminis prolatus est, non de alia doctrina. De coronis autem vidi, quod omnes ecclesiastici ordines clara signa secundum coelestem claritatem habent, virginitas vero clarum signum (praeter nigrum velamen et signum crucis) non habet. Unde et istud signum virginitatis esse vidi, scilicet ut albo velamine caput virginis tegeretur, propter candidam vestem quam in paradyso homo habebat et perdiderat, et supra caput ipsius rota tribus coloribus in unum coniunctis, quod sanctam trinitatem designat, cui quatuor rotae adherent, quarum una in fronte agnum Dei habens, in dextra parte cherubyn, et in sinistra angelum, retro autem hominem, et haec omnia ad trinitatem pendent. Hoc datum signum Deum benedicet, quia candore claritatis primum hominem vestierat. ‹ . . . › Et haec in libro Scivias pleniter continentur. In vera itaque visione librum Scivias et alios scripsi, et in eodem opere adhuc laboro. In duobus itaque modis, scilicet corporis et animae, me ipsam nescio, et me quasi pro nihilo computo, atque in Deum vivum intendo, et omnia haec illi relinquo, quatenus ipse qui nec finem, nec initium habet, in omnibus istis a malo me conservet. Unde et tu, qui haec verba quaeris, cum omnibus illis qui ipsa fideliter audire desiderant, pro me ora, ut in servitute Dei permaneam. Sed et tu, o fili Dei, qui illum in fide quaeris, et qui ab ipso petis ut te salvet, attende aquilam duabus alis suis ad nubem volantem, quae tamen si in una laeditur, super terram residet, nec se levare potest, cum se libenter ad volandum elevaret. Sic etiam homo cum duabus alis rationalitatis, scilicet cum scientia boni et mali, volat, ita ut dextera ala scientia bona sit, et sinistra scientia mala est, et mala

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bonae ministrat, bonaque per malam acuitur et regitur, et in cunctis per illam sapiens efficitur. Nunc autem, o care fili Dei, Deus alas scientiae tuae ad recta itinera elevet ita, quod si peccatum ex gustu lambis, quoniam sic natus es, quod sine peccato esse non possis, operando tamen illud non comedas, et tunc bene volas. Nam coelestis harmonia de homine sic faciente, Deo cantat, illum laudans, quia cinerosus homo Deum tantum diligit, quod propter Deum se ipsum ex toto contemnit, sibi non parcat, et a peccati opere se coerceat. Hoc modo, o probe miles, in certamine hoc esto, quatenus in coelesti harmonia esse possis, et ut tibi a Deo dicatur: “Tu es ex filiis Israel, quia per oculos cancelli et per studium coelestis desiderii, in montem excelsum aspicis.” Sed et omnes, qui in litteris tuis mihi transmissis notati sunt, per Spiritum Sanctum scientia ita regantur, ut in Libro Vitae scribantur. Tu quoque, fidelis serve Dei, dominum Sygerum competenter ammone,6 ne a dextra in sinistram declinet. Quod si voto ipsius aliquis resistit, ipse tamen, lorica fidei et galea coelestis desiderii indutus, viriliter repugnet, et iter suum perficiet. Sed et consideret quia, cum primus homo voci uxoris suae plusquam voci Dei obediret, praesumptione suae periit, quoniam illi consensit. Si autem modus tribulationis istorum tantus est, ut vires ipsorum transcendere videatur, meminerint scriptum: “Fidelis Deus qui non patietur vos temptari supra id quod potestis, sed faciet etiam cum temptatione proventum ut possitis sustinere” [1 Corinthians 10:13]. Cuius benigne promissionis ipse et uxor eius alacri expectatione roborati, unanimiter in unum assensum conveniant, et consilium quod utilius est, sive vir sive femina illud dederit, teneatur atque provideant ne prima deceptio in ipsis sit, videlicet ne vir feminam accuset, aut econtra7 femina virum, sed omnia haec secundum voluntatem Dei perficiant. Igneus autem Spiritus Sanctus corda eorum ita accendat, ne umquam ab ipso recedant. ITEM FRIDERICO REGI HILDEGARDIS8 Timorem Dei coeco et insipienti ex ambitione imperatori suggerit O rex, valde necesse est in causis tuis ut providus sis. Video enim te in mystica visione velut parvulum et velut insane viventem ante vivos oculos. Sed tamen habes adhuc tempus regnandi in terrenis materiis. Cave ergo ne summus rex prosternat te propter coecitatem oculorum tuorum, qui non recte vident, quomodo virgam recte regendi in manu tua habeas. Vide etiam ut talis sis, ne gratia Dei in te deficiat.

6

Vid. admone. Vid. Contra. 8 Pitra, Analecta Sacra, vol. 8, letter 37, pp. 523 ff. 7

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Epistola ad Ludovicum abbatem9 Sol in mane oritur, et de loco in quo constitutus est omnes nubes lumine suo speculative perfundit, et omnes creaturas regit et illuminat ardore suo, usque ad vesperum procedendo: sicut etiam deus omnem creaturam—quae homo est—creavit, eamque postea spiraculo vitae vivificavit et illuminavit. Sicut enim primum mane diei cum humido frigore et vicissitudine nubium surgit, sic et homo in pueritia sua humidum frigus habet, quia caro sua crescit et ossa sua nondum medulla impleta sunt, nec sanguis illius in rubore suo plene rutilat. Ut autem tertia hora10 diei in cursu solis calescere incipit, ita quoque, per dentes cibos atterendo, gustum illorum capit, et per incessum pedum movetur. Homo vero, pueritia transacta, in iuventute audax, laetus et serenus efficitur, secum disponendo quid incipere velit, quod si ad dextram partem se vertendo in luce solis bonum elegerit, fructuosus in bonis operibus efficietur; si autem ad sinistram partem, malum sequendo, declinaverit, pessimus in nequitia peccatorum nigrescet. Sed cum ipse usque ad nonam opus suum operando pervenerit, in carnibus et in medullis ac in ceteris viribus, quibus prius crescendo proficiebat, tunc deficiendo arescit. Sic etiam summus fabricator aetates mundi a prima usque ad vespertinum tempus ordinate constituit. Tu autem, o pater, qui secundum patrem nominaris, considera qualiter incepisti, et quomodo vivendo processisti, quia in pueritia tua stultus eras, et in iuventute tua cum temetipso laetam securitatem habebas. Interim tamen quandam causam unicornis, tibi tunc ignotam, quaesisti, quae scilicet scriptura nostra fuit, quae plurimum resonat de carnali indumento filii dei, qui, virginalem naturam diligendo, in ipsa velut unicornis in sinu virginis quiescens, dulcissimo sono pulcherrimae fidei omnem ecclesiam ad se collegit. Memor esto quoque, o fidelis pater, quid de paupercula mollis formae de eodem praedicto indumento filii dei saepe audiebas, et quia per summum iudicem adiutor meus ablatus est, ideo scripturam nostram tibi modo committo, suppliciter rogando quod eam caute serves ac diligenter corrigendo prospicias, ut etiam nomen tuum in libro vitae scribatur, in hoc imitando beatum Gregorium, qui propter onus Romani praesulatus a cythareno sono infusionis spiritus sancti numquam dictando cessavit. Tu etiam ut probus miles caelestia arma indue, opera stultitiae iuventutis abluendo, ac in angelico vestimento monachilis habitus strenue labora in meridie, prius quam dies inclinetur, quatenus in caelestibus tabernaculis in societatem angelorum cum gaudio suscipiaris.

9

Dronke, Women Writers, pp. 263 ff. According to the Roman system of calculating the hours of the day (which was also followed in medieval monasteries), the first hour (prima hora) corresponds approximately to our six o’clock in the morning; therefore, the third hour is nine o’clock. 10

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EPISTOLA AD PRAELATOS MOGUNTINENSES PROPTER DIVINA PER ILLOS INTERDICTA11 In visione quae animae meae, antequam nata procederem, a deo opifice infixa est, coacta sum ad scribendum ista, pro ligatura qua a magistris nostris alligatae sumus, propter quendam mortuum conductu sacerdotis sui apud nos sine calumnia sepultum. Quem post paucos sepelitionis suae dies cum a magistris nostris e cimiterio eicere iussae essemus, ex hoc non minimo terrore correpta, ad verum lumen ut soleo aspexi, et vigilantibus oculis in anima mea vidi quod, si iuxta praeceptum ipsorum corpus eiusdem mortui efferretur, eiectio illa in modum magnae nigredinis ingens periculum loco nostro minaretur, et in similitudine atre nubis, quae ante tempestates et tonitrua apparere solet, nos circumvallaret. Unde et corpus eiusdem defuncti (utpote confessi, inuncti et communicati, et sine contradictione sepulti) nec efferre praesumpsimus, nec consilio seu praecepto istud suadentium vel iubentium acquievimus: non consilium proborum hominum aut praeceptum praelatorum nostrorum omnino parvipendentes, sed ne sacramentis Christi, quibus ille vivens adhuc munitus fuerat, iniuriam saevitate feminea facere videremur. Sed, ne ex toto inobedientes existeremus, a divinarum laudum canticis hactenus, secundum eorum interdictum, cessavimus, et a participatione dominici corporis, quam per singulos fere menses ex consuetudine frequentavimus, abstinuimus. Super quo dum magna amaritudine tam ego quam omnes sorores meae affligeremur, et ingenti tristitia detineremur, magno tandem pondere compressa verba ista in visione audivi . . . quoniam in hoc culpabilis essem, quod cum omni humilitate et devotione ad praesentiam magistrorum meorum non venissem, ut ab eis licentiam communicandi quaererem, maxime cum in susceptione illius mortui culpa non teneremur . . . Aspexi etiam aliquid super hoc quod, vobis obediendo, hactenus a cantu divini officii cessantes, illud tantum legentes remissae celebramus, et audivi vocem a vivente luce procedentem, de diversis generibus laudum de quibus David in psalmo dicit: “Laudate eum in sono tubae, laudate eum in psalterio et cythara,” et cetera, usque ad id: “omnis spiritus laudet dominum” [Ps. 150: 3–6]. In quibus verbis per exteriora de interioribus instruimur, scilicet quomodo, secundum materialem compositionem vel qualitatem instrumentorum, interioris hominis nostri officia ad creatoris maxime laudes convertere et informare debeamus. Quibus cum diligenter intendimus, recolimus qualiter homo vocem viventis spiritus requisivit, quam Adam per inobedientiam perdidit—qui ante transgressionem, adhuc innocens, non minimam societatem cum angelicarum laudum vocibus habebat, quas ipsi ex spiritali natura sua possident, qui a spiritu (qui deus est) spiritus vocantur. Similitudinem ergo vocis angelicae, quam in paradiso habebat, Adam perdidit . . . . 11

Dronke, Women Writers, p. 314, and in PL 197, 218 C–221 D.

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Ut autem divinae illius dulcedinis et laudationis, qua cum angelis in deo priusquam caderet idem Adam iocundabatur, et non eius in hoc exilio recordarentur, et ad haec quoque ipsi provocarentur, idem sancti prophetae, eodem spiritu quem acceperant edocti, non solum psalmos et cantica, quae ad accendendam audientium devotionem cantarentur, sed instrumenta musicae artis diversa, quibus cum multiplicibus sonis proferrentur, hoc respectu composuerunt: ut tam ex formis vel qualitatibus eorundem instrumentorum quam ex sensu verborum quae in eis recitantur, audientes (ut praedictum est) per exteriora admoniti et exercitati, de interioribus erudirentur. Quos videlicet sanctos prophetas studiosi et sapientes imitati, humana et ipsi arte nonnulla organorum genera invenerunt, ut secundum delectationem animae cantare possent; et quae cantabant in iuncturis digitorum, quae flexionibus inclinantur, adaptaverunt, ut et recolentes Adam digito dei (qui spiritus sanctus est) formatum, in cuius voce sonus omnis harmoniae et totius musicae artis, antequam delinqueret, suavitas erat. Et si in statu quo formatus fuit permansisset, infirmitas mortalis hominis virtutem et sonoritatem vocis illius nullatenus ferre posset. Cum autem deceptor eius, diabolus, audisset quod homo ex inspiratione dei cantare coepisset, et per hoc ad recolendam suavitatem canticorum caelestis patriae mutaretur, machinamentum calliditatis suae in irritum ire videns, ita exterritus est, ut . . . confessionem et pulchritudinem atque dulcedinem divinae laudis et spiritalium hymnorum perturbare vel auferre non disistit. Quapropter summa vigilantia vobis et omnibus praelatis satagendum est, ut, antequam os alicuius ecclesiae deo canentium per sententiam claudatis . . . cavendum semper est, ne in iudiciis vestris circumveniamini a Sathana, qui hominem a caelesti armonia et a deliciis paradisi extraxit . . . . Et quoniam interdum, in auditu alicuius cantitionis, homo saepe suspirat et gemit, naturam caslestis armoniae recolens, propheta, subtiliter profundam spiritus naturam considerans, et sciens quia symphonialis est anima, hortatur in psalmo, ut confiteamur domino in cythara et psalterio decem cordarum psallamus: eius cytharam, quae inferius sonat, ad disciplinam corporis, psalterium, quod de superius sonum reddit, ad intentionem spiritus, decem cordas ad completionem legis referri cupiens. CAUSAE ET CURAE12 Liber II De sanguinea. Quaedam autem feminae pinguis naturae sunt et molles et deliciosas carnes habent et graciles venas atque rectum sanguinem absque tabe. Et quoniam venae earum graciles sunt, ideo minus sanguinis in se habent, atque caro earum tanto plus crescit et tanto plus sanguine permixta est. Et istae claram et

12

Paul Kaiser, ed., Hildegardis Causae et curae (Leipzig: Teubner, 1903), pp. 87–89.

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albam faciem habent et in amplexione amoris sunt et amabiles atque in artibus subtiles et per se ipsas in animo suo continentes et modice effluentem sanguinem in rivulis menstrui temporis patiuntur, atque vasculum matricis earum fortiter positum est ad pariendum, unde etiam fecundae sunt et virile semen concipere possunt. Sed tamen plurimos pueros non generantur, et si istae absque maritis sunt, ita quod prolem non pariunt, facile dolent in corpore; si autem maritos habent, senae sunt. Quod si guttae sanguinis in menstruo tempore ante naturale tempus in istis clauduntur, ita quod non effluunt, tunc interdum aut melancolicae erunt aut dolorem lateris patientur, aut vermis in carne earum crescet, aut effluentes glandes, quae scrofulae dicuntur, in eis erumpent, aut lepra, quae tamen moderata est, in eis crescet. De flegmaticis. Sed quaedam aliae feminae sunt, quarum carnes non multum crescunt, quia grossas venas habent et aliquantum sanum sanguinem et album sed modicum veneni in se continentem, unde album colorem contrahit. Et severam faciem et subnigri coloris habent et strenuae et utiles sunt ac aliquantum virilem animum tenent, atque nec nimis parum nec nimis multum sed moderate effluentes rivulos sanguinis in menstruo tempore sustinent. Et quoniam grossas venas habent, plurimum fecundae sunt in prole et facile concipiunt, quod etiam matrix et omnia viscera earum fortiter posita sunt. Sed viros sibi attrahunt et eos post se ducunt, et ideo viri eas amant. Quod si a viris se continere volunt, se continere a coniunctione eorum possunt, nec inde multum quamvis parum debilitantur. Sed tamen, si viros in coniunctione devitaverint, difficiles et graves in moribus suis erunt, si autem cum viris fuerint, ita quod se a coniunctione eorum continere noluerint, incontinentes et superfluae secundum viros in libidine erunt. Et quod etiam aliquantum viriles sunt propter viriditatem, quam in se habent, aliquantum lanuginis circa mentum interdum emittunt. Si autem rivulus sanguinis in menstruo tempore ante naturale tempus in eis strangulatur, tunc interdum aut insaniam capitis, quae est frenesis, incurrunt, aut spleneticae aut hudropicae erunt, aut exstantes carnes, quae semper in ulceribus sunt, in eis crescunt, aut in aliquo membro suo supercrescentem carnem, velut quaedam pustula in aliqua arbore vel in aliquo pomo est, emittent. De colerica. Aliae autem quaedam feminae sunt, quae tenues carnes sed grossa ossa habent et moderatas venas et spissum ac rubeum sanguinem, et pallidi coloris in facie sunt et prudentes sunt ac benevolentiam tenent, et eis reverentia ab hominibus exhibetur, et timentur. Sed plurimum sanguinem in menstruis patiuntur, et matrix in eis fortiter posita est, ac fecundae sunt. Et viri mores earum amant, sed tamen eas aliquantum devitando fugiunt, quoniam ipsae illos alliciendo illos post se non trahunt. Quod si in coniunctione maritorum sunt, castae sunt et fidem uxorum illis servant atque cum eis sanae sunt in corpore, et si maritis caruerint, dolebunt in corpore, et debiles erunt tam de hoc, quod nesciunt, cui homini femineam fidem servare possint, quam de hoc, quod maritos non habent. Et si fluenta menstrui temporis prius, quam iustum sit, in eis cessaverint, facile

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paralyticae erunt et in humoribus suis diffluunt, ita quod in eisdem humoribus suis infirmae erunt aut quod in iecore dolebunt aut quod etiam facile nigrum tumorem dragunculi incurrunt aut quod ubera earum de cancro ingrossantur. De melancolica. Sed aliae quaedam feminae sunt, quae macres carnes habent et grossas venas ac moderata ossa et sanguinem magis livosum quam sanguineum, et quae etiam faciem velut glauco et nigro colore permixtam habent. Et istae etiam ventosae et vagae in cogitationibus suis sunt et taediosae in molestia tabescentes, et sunt etiam diffluentis naturae, ita quod etiam interdum melancolia fatigantur. Sed et plurimum sanguinem in menstruo tempore patiuntur et steriles sunt, quia debilem et fragilem matricem habent. Unde semen viri nec concipere sed retinere nec calefacere possunt, et ideo etiam saniores, fortiores et laetiores sunt absque maritis quam cum eis, quoniam, si cum maritis fuerint, debiles reddentur. Sed viri ab eis declinant et eas fugiunt, quia ipsae viros affabiliter non alloquuntur, et quoniam viros modice diligunt. Et si istae ad horam aliquam delectationem carnis habuerint, cito tamen in eis deficit. Sed quaedam ex his, si cum robustis et sanguineis maritis fuerint, tunc interdum, cum ad fortem aetatem velut quinquaginta annorum pervenerint, saltem infantem unum pariunt. Si autem cum aliis maritis fuerint, quorum natura debilis est, tunc ab illis non concipiunt, sed steriles permanebunt. Quod si menstrua in eis defecerint, antequam iustum secundum naturam feminarum fuerit, tunc aliquando podagram aut intumentia crura habebunt aut insaniam capitis, quam melancolia excitat, incurrent, aut dolorem dorsi et renum aut cito corpore intumescent, quoniam tabes et foeditas illa, quae per menstrua in corporibus earum purgari debuit, in eis obstrusae remanent; et si istis in infirmitate non succurritur, ita quod ab ea per adiutorium dei seu per medicinam liberatae non fuerint, cito morientur. LIBER VITAE MERITORUM13 Quod daemones non decipiunt, nisi per falsam ostensionem Haec autem vera sunt, et homini huic quae simplex est, in diverticulis verborum veraciter ostensa sunt, quia ego qui de superno Patre exivi, et de matre Virgine viriditatis carnem accepi, eamdem hominem ad hoc excribravi, ut absque expolitis verbis et sine humano magisterio prolatis haec denudaret, et ea absque umbraculis verborum aperte proferret, quatenus scientia scientium nescientis simplicitatem notaret, et auctorem illorum, indeficientem lucem inextinguibili flamma flammantem intelligeret, et ut pusillus et magnus in omnibus his se fideliter castigaret. Beatus igitur homo ille est, qui in coelestibus per miracula Dei excitatur. Et audivi vocem de coelo dicentem:

13

Pitra, ed., “Analecta S. Hildegardis,” in Analecta sacra, vol. 8, pp. 243 ff.

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Homo quae haec vidit, et scribendo protulit, vidit et non vidit, cinerosa sentit et non sentit, ac miracula Dei non per se, sed per illa tacta profert, quemadmodum chorda per citharoedam tacta, sonum non per se, sed per tactum illius reddit. Et haec vera sunt, et qui verus est, ea sic manifestari veraciter voluit. Quapropter si quis per supereminentem mentem scripturarum et proprietatis suae, aliquid eis in contrarietate addiderit, poenis hic descriptis subjacere dignus est; aut si quis aliquid ab eis per contrarietatem abstulerit, dignus est ut a gaudiis hic ostensis deleatur.

Et audivi vocem multitudinis in superioribus secretis respondentem: “Fiat, Amen, et sic fiat.” Et iterum audivi vocem de coelo mihi dicentem: “Haec de viva voce Viventis et Indeficientis Lucis prolata et dicta sunt, et fidelia sunt, et fidelis his attendat, et ea in memoriam bonae scientiae componat.” TRANSLATIONS SCIVIAS1 Here Begins the First Book of Scivias, the Work of a Humble Person: Verification That God Was the True Source of My Visions In the forty-third year of my life, when I beheld a vision with great fear and trembling, I saw an awesome brilliance in heaven from which I heard a voice saying to me: O feeble human being, ashes of ashes and dust of dust, speak up and write what you see and what you hear. But since you are timid in speaking, simple in your expressions, and unskilled in writing, proclaim and write these things not according to human speech, or human understanding, nor according to human inclination, but according to what you see and hear high up in heaven in the wonders of God. So, make these things known publicly by presenting them in the same way that a student understands the words of his teacher and then is able to articulate them himself, following the rules set by his teacher and guided by his instructions and admonitions. Likewise, you too, human, proclaim these things that you see and hear, and write them down not according to your will or that of any other human, but according to the will of the One who is all-knowing and all-seeing and all-dispensing in His own mysterious way.

And again I heard a voice from heaven saying: “Proclaim, therefore, these awesome things and write them down and tell them in the way you were instructed.”

1

The title Scivias is an abbreviation for Scito vias [Domini], meaning “Know the Ways of the Lord.” Hildegard explains her choice of title in her letter to Guibert of Gembloux (included in this volume): “I saw in a vision that the first book of my visions was to be called Scivias, because it was brought forth by way of the Living Light and not by some other doctrine.”

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In the year 1141 of the incarnation of Jesus Christ, the Son of God, when I was forty-two years and seven months old, a fiery light happened to come down from the open sky with a terrific flash: it pierced my brain and shook me at my core, like a glowing flame that does not burn, or like the sun that warms up from above everything it touches with its rays. And, suddenly, I comprehended the meaning of the Psalter, the Gospel, and other catholic books, like the Old and New Testament, even though I still did not know the function of the individual words in these texts nor how to divide syllables or distinguish the cases and the tenses.2 And yet I felt within myself and in an incomprehensible way the power of these mysterious, secret and marvelous visions, just as I have been feeling it from childhood, since I was five years old and right up to the present. I did not, however, reveal my experiences to anybody, except to a few religious people in the same convent with me. In the meantime and up to the moment that God wished that they be revealed by His own Grace, I kept my visions concealed under deep silence. These visions did not appear in my dreams, nor while I was asleep or in ecstatic condition. I did not see them with the eyes of my body, nor did I hear them with my physical ears. And I did not receive them in some obscure place. I received them, instead, while I was wide awake and clear headed, with my internal eyes and ears, and out in open places, as God willed. How this could happen, it is hard for humans to understand because of the limitations of the flesh. But once I passed childhood and reached the previously mentioned mature age, I heard a voice from heaven saying: I am the Living Light that illuminates everything that lies in the dark. And I have chosen a person3 whom I decided to shake from his foundations with astounding experiences: I placed him in the midst of great wonders beyond anything that the ancients have ever experienced, despite the numerous mysteries they have seen in Me. But I have also cast him down onto the ground, so that she may not rise in the

2 For a more detailed description of this phenomenon, see Hildegard’s letter to Guibert of Gembloux, which is included in this volume. 3 Note that whenever God refers to Hildegard in this long speech, He tends to ignore the fact that she is a woman. He uses either generic nouns like homo (meaning human being), which are inclusive of the female gender but of masculine form, or the third person, masculine pronoun (i.e., ‘he’ or ‘him’). Despite the fact that God appears to be addressing Hildegard, the second person pronoun ‘you’ appears only in rare moments of powerful exhortation and even then in combination with the word homo (e.g., tu, o homo, you, human being). A few times in God’s speech, He uses feminine adjectives to describe Hildegard in regard to her qualifications for the task she is undertaking; but even these seem to serve a certain purpose, since they all happen to have derogatory connotations. For example, God uses the feminine form of adjectives when He describes Hildegard as timida (fearful) and indocta (uneducated). Hildegard is not regarded by God in any positive light, except when He refers to the simplicity and purity of her heart. In order to help the reader remember that the masculine pronouns in this speech refer to Hildegard, I have italicized them.

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arrogance of her mind. The world has never rejoiced in him or taken any delight in him; neither has it ever been disturbed by his condition in life, because I shielded him from brazen insolence, by filling him with fear and awe for his own travails. During these experiences, he ached in the marrow of his bones and in the veins of his flesh: his breath and his senses were taken away and he endured many bodily pains, to the point that he felt no security in himself whatsoever, but in every case he considered himself inadequate. I have secured this sense of weakness in his heart, so that he would not be vainglorious and self-involved, but amidst all these marvels he would feel more fear and pain rather than joy and impudence. Therefore, acting in My love, he searched secretly for a person who would traverse the same path of salvation. And he found somebody and loved him [Volmar], realizing that he was a faithful man and like him, since he too faced his own trials and tribulations on the path to Me. And so, holding fast onto him he struggled together with him through every one of his tasks and throughout his celestial studies, striving zealously to reveal My untold miracles. And this person did not exalt himself above himself, but he bowed with many sighs in front of the man that he had found, increasing his humility as he expressed his good will. Now, you, human, who have received the ability to manifest My secrets through visions not because of some ecstatic state that you are in but because of the simplicity of your heart, write down what you see and what you hear.

But even though I had experienced these injunctions both with my eyes as well as my ears, nevertheless, because of my insecurities, my bad judgment, and people’s various talk, I hesitated to write anything down, again not out of some ornery disobedience but out of my desire to abide by the rule of humility. This indecision lasted until I fell on a bed of sickness when, finally, overwhelmed by the scourge of God, I was forced by my numerous infirmities to set my hand to the writing. And I did so only after I secured the approval of that noble young nun with the flawless character [Richardis of Stade] and of my mentor [Volmar], whom I found, as I mentioned before, after a secret search. While writing my experiences, I only sensed (as I explained above) the deep profundity of the exegesis of the scriptures. But with the strength I received, I managed to recover from my illness and toil over this work, which I barely finished after ten years. Hence, I saw these visions and wrote them down during the days of Henry, Archbishop of Mainz, and Conrad, King of the Romans, and Cuno, Abbot of Disibodenberg, and under Pope Eugenius. And, again, I dictated and wrote down my experiences, which were not the product of the inventions of my heart or of anybody else, but I wrote them as I saw them in the heavenly spheres and as I heard and perceived them through the secret mysteries of God. And I heard the voice from heaven once again telling me: “So, declare them in a loud voice and write likewise.”

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TRANSLATIONS EPISTLES Hildegard’s letter to Guibert of Gembloux (1171) on the Manner of Her Visionary Experiences Guibert of Gembloux, a Walloon monk (1124/5–1213/14), originally wrote to Hildegard to inquire about the curious tradition of her nuns, who wore diadems and adorned themselves on certain festive occasions. Subsequently Guibert wrote Hildegard two letters full of questions about the origin and rationale of her practices as well as on the operation of her visions.4 Hildegard’s reply, given here, constitutes one of the rare instances in which Hildegard provides illuminating details about her physical and mental condition during her visions. The account in this letter is the most complete throughout her work, and it is the one that helped modern scientists identify her condition with the symptoms of intense migraines. Hildegard is answering Guibert’s humble letter and, after reflecting on the insecurity and fragility of human nature, traces the continuous line of visions she had had from infancy, explaining the mode of revelation in her visions; she also recalls with what speech, what sort of memory and what weakness she has conducted herself. I say these words not from me nor from any other man but I bring them forth as I received them in a vision from above. O servant of God, listen5 to what the unfailing Light says through the mirror of faith into which you look to find God; and, o child of God, [listen to His words] through the shape of a person in which God has established and sealed His miracles. Because, just as a mirror, in which things are reflected, is set in its own vessel,6 so is a rational soul7 placed in a body, as if in an earthen vessel. And just as the body is guided in seeing by the mind, so does the soul contemplate the heavenly matters [guided] by faith. [So, listen to what the unfailing Light says:] Man8 is heavenly and earthly: He is heavenly to the extent that his rational 9 soul has knowledge of the good, and he is fragile and dark to the extent it knows evil. And inasmuch as he perceives himself to be in the good, to that extent he loves God.10 For, if he sees in a mirror his own countenance dirty and sprinkled with dust, he endeavors to clean and wipe it; likewise, if he understands that he 4

For Guibert’s two letters to Hildegard, see Pitra, Analecta sacra, vol. 8, pp. 328–31 and 378–79. In the Latin text, the verb is found at the end of this paragraph (audi). 6 Presumably a frame. 7 Meaning the mind. 8 The word “man” translating the Latin homo of the original text is not gender specific. I decided, however, to follow the traditional conventions here and use only the masculine pronoun, because the translation would have become too cumbersome had I tried to use gender neuter indicators, such as “humans,” “person,” “he or she.” 9 The rational soul indicates the mind. 10 Humans’ love of God is proportionate to the part of their spirit that they recognize to be good; the more goodness they find in their heart, the more they love God. 5

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has sinned and implicated himself in a number of vanities, he groans, because in good knowledge he knows himself to be defiled.11 And he laments with the psalmist and says: “O daughter of Babylon, miserable: blessed shall be he who shall repay thee thy payment which thou hast paid us. Blessed be he that shall take and dash thy little ones against the rock” (Psalm 136: 8–9). Which is to say, human desire has been confused through the serpent’s foaming mouth. And itself12 is poor and needy, since in speculative knowledge it lacks honorable conviction, because it does not desire by seeking from God the glory of eternal life, which it tastes through good knowledge. But blessed is he who will remember13 that he lives from God, and whose knowledge teaches him that God both created and redeemed him. Also [blessed is he] who, on account of this salvation, by which God has saved him, crushes every evil habit of his sins and dashes all misery and poverty, which he counts among the heavenly riches, upon that rock, which is the foundation of bliss. For when a man knows that he has [in himself] a filthy and rotting element, and is in no way able to abstain from indulging in his sins, the blackest birds befoul his whole self.14 But, then, he himself through his rational soul, which he neither sees nor knows, trusts in God through faith. And although a person may be aware of his condition15 and that he lives in eternal life, nonetheless he is not able to prevent himself from sinning frequently. And, therefore, how marvelous and lamentable is his voice, since God makes such earthen vessels sometimes sparkle with his miracles, although the vessels themselves are still not able to forsake their sins, except in as much as they are prevented from sinning through the grace of God. For example, Peter, who ardently promised the Son of God that he himself would never deny Him, failed; and so did many other saints, who have committed sins but afterward became more useful and more perfect than they would have been, had they not fallen. O faithful servant, I, a frail feminine form, speak again these words to you in a true vision. If it pleases God to lift thus my body and my soul in this vision, nevertheless neither my soul nor my mind is free from fear, because I know that I am 11

Humans can perceive their own sinning only in that part of their consciousness that is aware of what is good according to God. 12 The word “itself” refers back to “human desire,” meaning that human desire is not inclined naturally toward either the good or God, because it does not have any honorable beliefs or standards (honorifica opinione caret). This idea recalls St. Augustine’s interpretation of the state of human nature, which shuns the good as a rule because it has fallen from God’s grace (see Augustine’s Confessions, passim). 13 In Latin memoria tenere means “to remember”; Hildegard keeps only one word of this standard phrase, but the context makes its meaning clear. 14 Pitra suggests that this may be a reference to the devil; cf. the incident in the life of Saint Benedict (cap. II, bk. 2, Dialog. S. Gregorii, in Patrologia Latina, vol. 46, col. 132): Tentator adfuit, nam nigra parvaque avis, quae volgo merola [class. merula] nominatur circa eius faciem volitare coepit (the devil was present, because a small blackbird, which is commonly called merle, started flying around his face). 15 Literally: “may know that he is so.”

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a human being, even though I have been enclosed since infancy.16 For many wise people have been so confused by miracles that they have revealed very many secrets; but on account of their vainglory, they have ascribed those things to themselves, and, therefore, they have fallen. But those who have drawn their wisdom from God during the ascent of their soul and reckoned themselves to be nothing, these have become the pillars of heaven. So, for example, happened in the case of Paul, who surpassed the other disciples in preaching and yet considered himself to be worthless. The same with John the evangelist, who was full of meek humility and for this reason drew forth many things from the Divinity. And where is this [gift] from, if I, a frail woman, do not know myself? God works where He wishes, for the glory of His own Name and not of earthly men. Indeed, I always have a trembling fear, since I know that there is no security of any possibility in me. But I stretch out my hands to God like a wing, which lacks any significant strength of power and which flies through the wind, in order to be sustained by Him. Nor am I able to understand perfectly those things that I see, as long as I am in this bodily state and in this invisible soul, since in regard to these two things there is a defect in man. Moreover, from my infancy, when my bones, my nerves and veins were not yet complete, and up to the present time, I have always seen this vision in my soul. And now, when I am more than seventy years old, even my soul in this vision, inasmuch as God has willed it, soars high up into heaven and into the height of the firmament and spreads itself among various people, although they are far away from me in remote regions and places. And since I see these things in such a way in my soul, so I also see them as I see the changing clouds and other similar creations. I do not hear these things, however, with my physical ears or with deliberations of my mind, nor do I perceive them by the help of my five senses, but I see them only in my soul, with my physical eyes open, and in such a way that I never experience the weakness of a trance during visitations; instead, I see my visions wide-awake both during the day and the night. Meanwhile, I am constantly overwhelmed by ailments and often consumed in such a way by severe pains that they threaten to bring about my death; but up until now God has delivered me. The light that I see in my visions does not have a specific source, but is much brighter than the aura of the sun. I cannot fathom its height or its length or breadth, and it is what I call the ‘Shadow of the Living Light.’ And just as the sun, the moon and the stars are reflected in the water, in the same way the scriptures, the sermons, the virtues and certain works of men take shape and are reflected for me in the brightness of that Light.

16 This is a reference to the fact that she was dedicated to God from the moment she was born and then closed into a monastery at the age of eight.

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Moreover, whatever I see or learn in this vision, I remember it for a long time; so, I remember something when I see or hear it, and at the same time I see, hear and learn, and that very second I learn that which I know. But I do not know anything that I do not see, because I am uneducated, [since] I have only been taught how to read on a simple level. And those things, which I write in the vision, I both see and hear them. I do not put forth, however, other words than those, which I hear. And I proclaim those things in unpolished Latin words, just as I hear them in that vision, since I am not taught to write in the vision as philosophers do. The words that I see and hear in my visions, however, are not like the words that sound forth from human lips, but are like a flickering flame or a cloud that moves through the clear sky. Furthermore, I am in no way able to identify the shape of the Light, just as I cannot look directly at the sphere of the sun. In that same brightness, sometimes—though, quite rarely—I see another light, which I call the ‘Living Light.’ I cannot explain when and how I see it, but when I do, every sadness and every problem are lifted from me in such a way that I behave more like a young girl rather than an old woman. But because of the constant ailments that I suffer, I become sometimes weary of expressing both the words and the visions that are shown to me. And yet, when my soul tastes and sees these things, I change my behavior so drastically that (as I said before) I forget every pain and distress. And the things then that I see and hear in this vision, my soul draws them as though from a spring, which nevertheless remains full and inexhaustible. My soul, however, never lacks the Light that I mentioned, namely, the one I call the Shadow of the Living Light, since I see it as if I am gazing at a starless firmament in a bright mist. And it is in this Light that I see the things that I often talk about and which I convey to people when they ask me about the brightness of the Living Light. Furthermore, I saw in a vision that the first book of my visions should be called Scivias, because it has been produced through the agent of the Living Light, and not because it is from any doctrine. As for the crowns, I saw that all the ecclesiastical ranks use brilliant emblems in imitation of the celestial brightness, whereas virginity lacks a prominent attribute (besides the black veil and the sign of the cross). And there I saw that this is the symbol of virginity, namely that the head of the virgin is covered by a white veil, on account of the white garment that man used to wear (and then lost) in paradise; and on top of her head there is a ring in three colors joined into one, symbolizing the Holy Trinity; this is connected to four other rings, one of which has on the front the Lamb of God, flanked by a cherub on the right and an angel on the left, but on the back it has a man; and all these hang on the Trinity. This symbol that I was given praises the Lord, because He had clothed the first man in the brilliance of innocence. ‹ . . . › And these are contained more fully in the Scivias. So, I have written both the Scivias and other books having seen them in a true vision, and I am still toiling on the same work.

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Therefore, it is in two ways that I do not know myself, both in regard of my body and my soul, and in both ways I reckon myself to be worth nothing; so, I look to the living God and I leave off all these things to Him, since He is the One who has no end and no beginning, and since He keeps me safe in all these things.17 Therefore, you too, who inquire after these words together with all those who sincerely desire to hear these accounts, pray for me that I may remain in the servitude of God. But also you, o child of God, who seeks Him in faith, and who asks from Him to save you, watch the eagle flying to the cloud with its two wings,18 who, however, if wounded in one of them, stays on the ground and cannot elevate himself, even though he would like to lift himself and fly. So, also, a man flies on the double wings of reasoning, meaning the knowledge of good and evil, so that his right wing is the knowledge of good and his left is the knowledge of evil, the evil helping the good one, and the good being spurred on and steered by the evil; and so, the wise person is perfected in every aspect by it [sc. his knowledge of evil]. But now, dear child of God, God is thus lifting the wings of your knowledge to straight paths, even if you get a taste of sin, since you are born in such a condition that you cannot be without sin, but do not consume it entirely in your deeds; and then you fly well.19 For the heavenly harmony sings to God about the man who acts in this manner, and praises him, because this man, who is made of ashes, loves God so much that he totally despises himself for the sake of God, has no mercy for himself, and so keeps himself away from sinful deeds. So, good soldier, carry on this struggle, for as long as you are able to be in the celestial harmony, so that God might say to you: “You are of the sons of Israel, because you behold the top of the mountain through the openings of the barrier, and through the pursuit of heavenly desire.” But also all those people you mention in the letter that you have sent me, may they be guided by the Holy Spirit in such a way that their names are written in the Book of Life. And also you, faithful servant of the Lord, suitably remind master Sygerus, lest he be demoted from right to left.20 And although, someone may withstand his solemn promise, he himself, however, dressed in the armor21 of faith and wearing a helmet of heavenly yearning, will fight bravely and accomplish his journey. But he should also reflect carefully, because the first man was ruined by his audacity, when he listened to the words of his spouse rather than the words of God, since he

17

Hildegard refers to the serious troubles she has had with her health throughout her life and to the surprising fact that she came out of each and every one of them alive. 18 Cf. Rev. 12.4. 19 Meaning that he can be elevated and fly well only through the grace of God and only because He assists him in his ascent; without God’s help he is totally doomed, because of his originally fallen nature. 20 Meaning that he falls from favor. 21 Literally, breastplate.

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agreed with her. But if the manner of their suffering is so great that it seems to surpass their powers, they should remember that it has been written: “True is the God who does not allow you to be tempted beyond your powers, but will make it pass together with temptation that you may also be able to endure it.” So, he himself and his wife, strengthened by the thrilling expectation of His gracious promise, come unanimously to a single agreement and make the decision, which is more useful, whether it is proposed by the man or the woman, and they see to it that the original deception is not among them, meaning that neither the man accuses the woman nor, vice versa, the woman accuses the man, but they achieve all these things according to the will of God. For the fire of the Holy Spirit sets their heart aflame in such a way that they may never withdraw from it. HILDEGARD’S SECOND LETTER TO KING FREDERICK22 Instilling the Fear of God in a King Who Is Blind and Foolish from Ambition TRANSLATIONS Frederick I Barbarossa (1123–1190) was elected king of Germany in 1152 and crowned Holy Roman Emperor in 1155. Beginning in 1164, Hildegard wrote a series of four letters to Frederick trying to prevent him from appointing antipopes and, thus, creating a schism in the church. Her blunt letters, which were direct in their criticism, built her reputation as the “Teutonic prophetess.” The following, Hildegard’s second letter to Frederick I, is noted for its laconic style and harsh tone. It is necessary for you, King, that in your affairs you have foresight. For, in my mystical vision, I see you as a little child and as one who lives his life foolishly for all the world to see. But you still have time in which you will rule in this material world. Beware, therefore, lest the Mighty King lay you low, on account of your eyes that are blind and unable to see clearly that you hold in your hand a scepter for ruling justly. See also that you act in such a way that the Grace of God not be lacking in you. Letter to Ludwig, Abbot of Trier This letter to Ludwig of Trier (abbot of St. Eucharius in 1168), written in 1173 following the death of Wolmar, is one of the most revealing letters by Hildegard. It is obviously written without anybody’s help, and proves unequivocally that she was capable of writing elaborate prose in good Latin, despite her protestations. She expresses herself clearly and eloquently. Her thought is complex, while her prose rises to the occasion: she uses a number of intricate metaphors that aim at 22

For a historical discussion of this letter, see M. Schrader and A. Führkötter, Die Echtheit, pp. 124–31.

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predisposing her reader to view her book favorably, since, as Dronke argues, this was probably the cover letter with which Hildegard accompanied the submission of her Liber divinorum operum to Ludwig asking him to edit it. The sun rises in the morning and from that spot fills the clouds anew with its own brightness, lording over all the creatures and illuminating them with its glow, until evening comes and the sun sets. In the same way, God created the crowning achievement of His creation the human beings and, thereafter, breathed life into them and gave them light. For just as dawn rises, covering the ground with frost and changing the colors of the clouds, so do humans begin with a dewy coldness in their childhood, because their body is still growing, their bones are not yet full of marrow, and their blood is not yet fully red in color. But just as the sun follows its course and the day starts warming up at eight o’clock, so do the humans at some point start enjoying the taste of different foods, chewing with their teeth, while at the same time they start walking on their feet. But once people are past childhood, taking courage in their youthfulness, they become happy and serene by deciding what things they want to do in life. At this point, if they turn to the right and take the good path, choosing to do good things under the bright sunlight, they will be successful in their virtuous undertakings; but, if they turn to the left and take the bad path, they will degenerate and become evil and grow dark in the wickedness of their sins. And just as people work hard and finish the task at hand by two o’clock in the afternoon, there comes a time when the human body along with the marrow and its other faculties (which had been developing up until then) ceases growing. And it is in the same way that the Supreme Creator has arranged the creation of the universe in stages from dawn to dusk. But you, father (who are named after our Father), think how you began your life and how you proceeded to live it, because you were naive as a child and felt happy and sure of yourself in your youth. Meanwhile, however, you were looking for some rational explanation behind the mystery of the unicorn,23 which you did not know in your youth and which stands as a metaphor for our scriptures that proclaim the incarnation of the son of God, Jesus, who, by loving the nature of the virgin, reposed in her very bosom, just like a unicorn, and gathered with the sweetest sound the whole church of our beautiful faith to Himself. Also remember, faithful father, what you often heard from the poor little woman with the weak body concerning the incarnation of the son of God that I just mentioned: Since, by the wish of the Supreme Judge, my assistant [Volmar] was taken from me, I send to you alone my book, humbly asking you to preserve 23 The unicorn is a mythical creature that symbolizes purity, chastity, and virginity. It has appeared in the art and legends of India, China, Islam, and medieval Europe. According to the European legend, the unicorn is drawn to virgins and loves to rest laying his head in their lap. This imagery was used allegorically by Christian writers to symbolize the incarnation of Jesus (unicorn) and the virgin Mary.

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it carefully and be considerate as you correct it diligently, so that your name too may be added to the book of life. And in doing so, imitate blessed Gregory [Pope Gregory I], who, despite the burden of his Roman episcopate, never ceased composing inspired by the Holy Spirit, as if listening to the sound of a lute. But you, as a good soldier, put on your celestial armor and, washing away the works of youthful folly, dressed in the angelic robe of your monastic habit, work strenuously while the sun is high, until before the day wanes, so that you may be received joyfully in the heavenly company of angels. Letter to the prelates of Mainz24 Hildegard wrote this letter at the age of eighty, a year before her death (1178), in an effort to convince the prelates of Mainz to revoke the interdict they had placed on her convent at Rupertsberg. One of the harshest restrictions of the interdict was that it prevented the nuns from singing the monastic Office. The interdiction was so demoralizing that Hildegard wrote this scathing letter, in which, like another Antigone, she confronts the human law with the higher, divine law that requires humans to imitate the angels in singing for the Lord. In a vision, which God imprinted in my soul even before I was born, I was compelled to write these things to defend ourselves in the litigation with which we are bound by our superiors, because we allowed a certain person to be buried in our grounds under the direction of his own priest and without calumny. A few days after the burial, when we were ordered by our superiors to cast him out of our cemetery, I, overwhelmed by the horrific order, saw the true light (which I am accustomed to see), and with my eyes open and alert I saw in my soul that, if the body of this dead man were cast out following the orders of the prelates, our home would be severely endangered by this expulsion, threatening to encompass us like darkness or like the black clouds that often appear before thunderstorms. Therefore, we decided neither to exhume nor cast out the body of this person who after all had taken confession, had been anointed, had taken the communion, and was buried without any objection nor to concede to the advice of those who tried to persuade us to succumb to the orders of those who command us. And we took this decision not because we disregarded completely the advice of respectable people or disobeyed the orders of our prelates, but because we did not want to seem like some savage women who violated the sacraments of Christ, which that man received when he was still alive. But, since we do not want to seem totally disobedient either, we have complied up to this point with the interdict of the prelates: we neither sing the praises of the Lord nor do we take the communion which we were accustomed to taking almost every month. 24

For the theological and philosophical implications of this letter, see Dronke, Women Writers, pp. 196 ff.

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While my sisters and I were suffering with great sorrow and were depressed with feelings of immense sadness because of the situation, I (though overwhelmed by the great burden of responsibility) heard in a vision these words: . . . I was criticized for the fact that I had not approached my superiors with humility and devotion to ask for permission to receive communion, especially since we were not guilty in admitting that dead person . . . . I saw then, concerning this matter, that by obeying you up to this point we have ceased from the singing of the divine Office, since we gather together and celebrate His glory in a very subdued way and only by reading the hymns. I also heard a voice emanating from the Living Light concerning the different kinds of praise that David describes in the psalm: “Praise Him with the sound of the trumpet, praise Him with hymns and lyre,” and so on up to the point that he says: “Let every spirit praise the Lord.” (Psalm 150: 3–6) These words teach us about the internal by means of the external, namely how, according to the material composition or the quality of the instruments, we ought to change the offices of our inner self and shape them to the greatest glory of the Creator. When we study these words carefully, we realize how man has been longing to hear the voice of the Living Spirit, which Adam lost because of his disobedience [considering that] before his transgression and while he was still innocent, Adam had participated greatly in the praises sung by angels, joining his voice with those of the angels, who themselves owe their voices to their spiritual nature and are called spirits from the spirit that is God. Therefore, Adam’s voice lost its affinity to the voice of the angels, which he had while in paradise.25 . . . But in order that people may recall Adam’s divinely sweet praises, which he had been enjoying before his fall, singing with the angels and in the presence of God, rather than his condition in this expulsion from paradise, and in order that people may themselves also be enticed to these praises, the holy prophets themselves, guided by the same spirit that they had received, not only composed psalms and hymns to be sung in order to induce the devotion of the audience, but also invented different kinds of musical instruments in order to sing the songs in a variety of sounds. And they did all this so that the listeners (as I said before) moved not only by the shapes or the qualities of these instruments but also by the meaning of the lyrics in the hymns would be admonished and motivated in their inner life through exterior symbols. Consequently, people, who were eager and wise themselves, imitated the holy prophets and in turn invented several kinds of instruments according to human artistic abilities in order to sing for the pleasure of their soul. And they sang these hymns by adapting them to the system of the “joints of the fingers” 25 Cf. Causae et curae (Kaiser, p. 149), where Hildegard elaborates more on Adam’s singing abilities in paradise: Adam quoque ante prevaricationem angelicum carmen et omne genus musicorum sciebat, et vocem habebat sonantem ut vox monochordi sonat (Adam also before his fall knew the song of the angels and every kind of music, and had a voice that sounded like a monochord).

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(because they bend their fingers at the joints)26 so that they may remember that Adam was shaped by the finger of God who is the Holy Spirit and that in his voice there had been a sound of complete harmony and a sweetness of absolute musical art before he sinned. Had Adam remained in the state in which he had been created, the feebleness of human nature could not have been able to sustain the intensity and richness of that voice. But when Satan, the deceiver, heard that the humans started singing by divine inspiration and were moved closer to recalling the sweetness of the songs in the heavenly fatherland, and when he realized that his own shrewd strategy was going to waste, he was stricken with such fear that . . . he has not stopped trying to disturb or ruin completely the expression of faith as well as the beauty and the sweetness of the divine praises and the spiritual hymns. Therefore, you and every prelate should be extremely alert and make sure that, before you close the mouth of any church of people who praise the Lord, . . . you always take precautions, so that in making your decisions you are not deceived by Satan, who wrested the humans away from celestial harmony and the delights of paradise . . . . Furthermore, since people often sigh and moan when they hear some melody remembering the nature of celestial harmony, the prophet [David], considering acutely the profound nature of the spirit and realizing that the soul is fond of music, urges us in his psalm to confess our faith to the Lord with the accompaniment of the lyre and to sing on the ten-stringed psaltery: In this way, he intends to symbolize the discipline of the body by the lyre (the sound of which is inferior), the elevation of the spirit by his psaltery (which produces a superior sound), and the fulfillment of the law by the ten chords.27 CAUSES AND CURES The Four Categories of Women according to Their Physical Attributes and Dispositions Book II Sanguineous women. Some women are rather plump and have soft and delicate bodies, tiny veins, and healthy blood without taint. Since their veins are tiny, there is less blood flowing in them, and their body grows more, and the blood is more diffused throughout their body. These women have a bright white complexion and in sexual encounters they both incite lust and they please in bed, but they are capable of exercising self control. During menstruation they suffer only a moder26 Guido of Arezzo used the joints of the fingers of the left hand as a mnemonic device to teach the musical scale; see G. Reese, Music in the Middle Ages (New York: W. W. Norton, 1940), p. 151. 27 For the allegorical use of the ten-stringed psaltery, see M. Reeves and B. Hirsch-Reich, The Figurae of Joachim of Fiore (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1972).

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ate flow of blood,28 while their womb is fecund and very conducive to childbearing. Therefore, such women are fertile and able to receive the male sperm. And yet they do not have many children. In the case that they have no husband (which means that they do not have any children either) their body is prone to suffering pain. But if they have a husband, then they are healthy.29 Now, if during menstruation drops of blood are trapped in their body prematurely in such a way that they do not flow out, then the women become either depressed, or they may experience pain in their sides, or a worm may grow in their flesh, or their glands flowing forth (a condition called scrofula) may burst, or they may even develop a mild form of leprosy. Flegmatic women. There is another category of women whose body does not grow much. They have thick veins and relatively healthy blood but with whitish color caused by toxins found in it. These women have rough skin with an ashen tint to it. They are, however, energetic and competent, and have a somewhat manly character. Their period is neither light nor profuse but moderate. And since they have thick veins, they are very fertile and conceive easily, because their womb is fertile and all their inner organs are conducive to procreation. Men are attracted to them, pursue them, and lust after them. But if these women want to keep themselves away from men, they can stay away from sexual unions without being significantly crippled by abstinence. Nevertheless, if they avoid sexual relations with men, they become difficult and grouchy. On the other hand, if they do not abstain from sex, they lose their self restraint and become wanton in their lustful passions, like men. And because they are a bit manly (due to their vigor and lively nature) a bit of hair grows on their chin. If the blood flow of menstruation stops prematurely and blood is trapped in their body, they behave like people with mental problems or they suffer from an affected spleen; they become dropsical or they develop ulcers in their body; they may even develop growths on their limbs that look like nodes growing on trees and fruits. Choleric women. There is another category of women, who have thin skin but thick bones. Their veins are of medium size and their blood is thick and red, but their skin is pale. They are thoughtful and compassionate; other people respect and revere them.

28 Hildegard echoes the idea that there is a relation between blood flow during menstruation on the one hand, and physical condition, sexual appetite, and female disposition on the other, which was first articulated in the Hippocratic corpus and particularly in the Diseases of Women and the Nature of Women, passim. 29 This notion is also drawn from Hippocrates, who suggested that sexual intercourse and pregnancy were excellent methods for curing (or preventing) some of the defects in the function of the female body; he prescribed marriage to any woman complaining of feminine problems; see Diseases of Women and the Nature of Women, passim.

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Their blood flow during menstruation is profuse; their womb is conducive to childbearing; and therefore, they are fertile. Men like their character, but they avoid them and usually flee from them, because, despite their good disposition toward this kind of women, they are not attracted to them. If these women get married, they are chaste and faithful, and thanks to marital copulation they maintain their health. But if they do not have a husband, they suffer bodily pains and become feeble, because they neither know for what man they may be preserving their feminine loyalty nor do they have a husband. If they reach menopause prematurely, they become easily paralyzed; the menstrual blood spreads throughout their bodily humors so that the women become weak in regard to these very humors; or they feel pain in the liver; or they incur a black tumor caused by the parasitic worm known as dracunculus; or their breasts are swelled up from cancer. Melancholic women. There are other women who have lean bodies, thick veins, and medium frame; their blood has a rather dark color instead of bright red, while their skin looks grayish-black. They are unpredictable in their moods and scatter-brained, they languish vexed by their malady, and they are always ambivalent, undecided, and sometimes they get overburdened with depression. These women menstruate profusely and they are sterile, because their womb is feeble and delicate and unable to catch the male sperm or to hold on to it and warm it up. Therefore, these women are much healthier, stronger, and happier without men than with men, since they are overcome by fatigue every time they go to bed with their husband. But men avoid them as well and flee from them, because these women neither talk to them affectionately nor do they like them very much. And if these women ever experience any sexual arousal, it soon subsides. Some of them, however, bear at least one child, when they reach an older age, such as fifty, and providing that they have a robust and exuberant husband. But if they are married to other types of men, who have a weaker nature, then they do not conceive a child from them but remain sterile. If they reach menopause prematurely, then they sometimes experience gout or swelling of the legs or even dementia (which is brought on by their depression); or they suffer from back-ache and kidney disease; or their body swells up suddenly, because the bile and the toxins that ought to be cleansed from their body through menstruation remain trapped in it. If they do not receive any help in their illness and they are not freed from these toxins either through God’s intervention or through medicine, they are bound to die soon. THE BOOK OF THE REWARDS OF LIFE At the end of Hildegard’s work The Book of the Rewards of Life (1158–1163), Jesus appears placing a curse on anyone who might dare to alter in any way the text of Hildegard’s works, attesting to the authenticity of her visions.

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Demons deceive through false manifestations . . . . But these things are true and have been revealed to this humble woman30 truthfully through the common means of human speech; because I [Jesus] who was born from the Heavenly Father and received this earthly body from a Virgin Mother, passed this very woman through a sieve for the purpose of making her write these things in unpolished prose and without any human aid, and express them clearly without obscure words, so that the wisdom of the learned may know the simplicity of the unlearned31 and realize the source of these writings, which is the unfailing light that radiates from an inextinguishable flame, so that small and great in all these things might faithfully reprove themselves. Blessed therefore is he who is inspired to heavenly things by the miracles of God. And I heard a voice coming down from heaven saying: The woman who had these visions and revealed them in writing, though herself a mere mortal woman of ashes, saw and did not see,32 felt and did not feel, and revealed the miracles of God not by means of her own faculties but because she was touched by these miracles in the same way that a string emits a sound when touched by the lyre player, not because of its own ability to do so but because of the player’s touch. These visions, therefore, are true, and He who is True wished them to be manifested truthfully. Consequently, if anyone who is well versed in the scriptures and is generally learned should add on that basis something to them because he disagrees with them, this person deserves to be punished in the way described here. Likewise, if anyone subtracts something from these writings because he disagrees with it, he deserves to be removed from the joys that are shown here.33

And I heard the voice of a multitude responding in their heavenly abode: “Let it be so. Amen. And so be it.” And again I heard a voice from heaven saying to me: “These things have been brought forth and declared by the living voice of the living and unfailing Light, and are faithful; and, therefore, let the faithful heed them and commit them to memory as a source of good knowledge.” BIBLIOGRAPHY Primary Sources Carlevaris, Angela, ed. Hildegardis Liber vitae meritorum. Corpus Christianorum: Continuatio mediaevalis, vol. 90. Turnhout, Belgium: Brepols, 1995. 30

The Latin text indicates clearly at this point the feminine gender of the author. Compare Corinthians 1:21. 32 Peter Dronke (Women Writers of the Middle Ages, p. 160) translates here “lives and does not live” on the basis of a different reading in his Latin text, vivit (lived) and not vidit (saw), as is printed in Pitra’s Analecta Sacra, p. 244; Pitra’s reading makes better sense within the context of the passage. 33 This is a variation on the theme found in the end of Revelation (22:18–19). 31

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Führkötter, Adelgundis, and Angela Carlevaris, eds. Scivias. Corpus Christianorum: Continuatio mediaevalis, vols. 43 and 43A. Turnhout, Belgium: Brepols, 1978. Godefridus, Monk. Vita sanctae Hildegardis auctoribus Godefrido et Theodorico monachis. Translated by James McGrath. The Life of the Holy Hildegard by the Monks Gottfried and Theoderic, edited by Adelgundis Führkötter. Collegeville, Minn.: Liturgical Press, 1995. Kaiser, Paul, ed. Hildegardis Causae et curae. Leipzig: Teubner, 1903. Migne, J.-P., ed. Sanctae Hildegardis abbatissae Opera omnia. Patrologiae cursus completus: Series latina, vol. 197. Paris: Migne 1855. Pitra, J.-B., ed. Analecta opera Sanctae Hildegardis. Analecta sacra, vol. 8. Monte Cassino: Typis Sacri Montis Casinensis, 1882; facsm. Farnborough, U.K.: Gregg, 1966.

Secondary Works Beer, Frances. Women and Mystical Experience in the Middle Ages. Rochester, N.Y.: Boydell and Brewer, 1992. Brück, Anton, ed. Hildegard von Bingen, 1179–1979: Festschrift zum 800. Todestag der Heiligen. Mainz: Selbstverlag der Gesellschaft für Mittelrheinische Kirchengeschichte, 1979. Bynum, Caroline. “The Female Body and Religious Practice in the Later Middle Ages.” In Fragments for a History of the Human Body, 160–219. New York: Urzone, 1989. Dronke, Peter. Latin and Vernacular Poets of the Middle Ages. Hampshire, U.K.: Variorum, 1991. ———. Poetic Individuality in the Middle Ages: New Departures in Poetry 1000–1150. 2d ed. London: Westfield College, 1986. ———. Women Writers of the Middle Ages: A Critical Study of Texts from Perpetua (†203) to Marguerite Porete (†1310). Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1984. Eckenstein, Lina. Woman under Monasticism. Cambridge, 1896; rpt. New York: Russell and Russell, 1963. Erickson, Carolly. The Medieval Vision. New York: Oxford University Press, 1976. Ferrante, Joan M. “The Education of Women in the Middle Ages in Theory, Fact, and Fantasy.” In Beyond Their Sex: Learned Women of the European Past, edited by Patricia H. Labalme. New York: New York University Press, 1980. Fierro, Nancy. Hildegard of Bingen and Her Vision of the Feminine. Kansas City, Mo.: Sheed and Ward, 1994. Flanagan, Sabina. Hildegard of Bingen 1098–1179: A Visionary Life. London: Routledge, 1989. ———. “Hildegard of Bingen as Prophet: The Evidence of Her Contemporaries.” Tjurunga 32 (1987): 16–45. Lauter, Werner. Hildegard-Bibliographie. Vol. 1, up to 1970; vol. 2, 1970–1982; vol. 3, 1983–(forthcoming). Alzey, 1970 and 1984. [For an extensive bibliography up to 1969 see Marianna Schrader and Adelgundis Führkötter. Die Echtheit des Schrifttums der hl. Hildegard von Bingen. Cologne and Graz: Quellenkritische Untersuchungen, 1956.] Newman, Barbara. Sister of Wisdom: St. Hildegard’s Theology of the Feminine. Berkeley: Scholar Press, 1987. ———. “Divine Power Made Perfect in Weakness: St. Hildegard on the Frail Sex.” In Peaceweavers. Medieval Religious Women, edited by Lillian T. Shank and John Nichols. Vol. 2 Kalamazoo, Mich.: Cistercian Publications, 1987.

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———. “Hildegard of Bingen: Visions and Validation.” Church History 54 (1985): 163–75. Petroff, Elizabeth A., ed. Medieval Women’s Visionary Literature. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1986. Power, Eileen. “The Education of Women.” In Medieval Women, edited by M. M. Postan. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1975. Sacks, Oliver. Migraine: Understanding a Common Disorder. Berkeley: University of California Press, 1985. ———. “The Visions of Hildegard.” In The Man Who Mistook His Wife for a Hat. London: Picador/Pan, 1986. Schipperges, Heinrich. Hildegard von Bingen. Translated by John A. Broadwin. Hildegard of Bingen: Healing and the Nature of the Cosmos. Princeton, N.J.: M. Wiener, 1997. Scholz, Bernard W. “Hildegard von Bingen on the Nature of Woman.” American Benedictine Review 31 (1984): 361–83. Schrader, Marianna. Die Herkunft der hl. Hildegard. Rev. ed. Mainz: Gesellschaft für Mittelrheinische Kirchengeschichte, 1981. Schrader, Marianna, and Adelgundis Führkötter. Die Echtheit des Schrifttums der hl. Hildegard von Bingen. Cologne and Graz: Quellenkritische Untersuchungen, 1956. Singer, Charles. From Magic to Science. 2d ed. New York: Dover Publications, 1958. ———. “The Scientific Views and Visions of Saint Hildegard.” In Studies in the History and Method of Science. Vol. 1. 2d ed. London: William Dawson, 1955. Stehlow, W., and G. Hertzka. Hildegard of Bingen’s Medicine. Santa Fe, N.M.: Bear and Co., 1988.

Select Discography Canticles of Ecstasy. Sequentia. Germany, 1994 (Harmonia Mundi 77320). A Feather on the Breath of God: Sequences and Hymns by Abbess Hildegard of Bingen. Gothic Voices. London: Hyperion, 1985 (Hyperion CDA66039). For the Fallen. Koch International Classics, 2002 (7543). Gesänge der hl. Hildegard von Bingen. Schola der Benediktinerinnenabtei St. Hildegard. Eibingen, 1979 (Psallite 242/040 479 PET). von Bingen: Ecstatic Chants. Fine Tune, 1999 (1130). von Bingen: Heavenly Revelations. Naxos, 1995 (550998). 11,000 Virgins: Chants for the Feast of St. Ursula. Sequentia. France, 1997 (Harmonia Mundi 907200). Hildegard von Bingen: Heavenly Revelations. Naxos, 1995 (8.550998). Hildegard von Bingen: Canticles of Ecstasy. Sequentia. BMG, 1993 (05472-77 320-2). Hildegard von Bingen: Ordo virtutum. Sequentia. France, 1982 (Harmonia Mundi 20395/96). Hildegard von Bingen: Symphoniae (Geistliche Gesänge). Sequentia. Germany, 1983 (Harmonia Mundi IC 067-19 9976 I). Hildegard von Bingen und lhre Zeit. Christophorus, 1994 (74584). Hildegard’s Lauds of St. Ursula. Focus. Indiana University Press Recording, 1991. Lux Vivens: The Music of Hildegard von Bingen. PGD Mammoth Records, 1998. Luminous Spirit Chants of Hildegard von Bingen. Koch International Classics, 1998 (7443).

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Symphonia armonie celestium revelationum: Hildegard von Bingen. Bryn Mawr, Pa.: Hildegard Publishing, 1997 (09701 Hildegard Publishing). Symphonia armonie celestium revelationum: Songs for the Blessed Virgin Mary. Bryn Mawr, Pa.: Hildegard Publishing, 1995. Symphonia armonie celestium revelationum: The Ursula antiphons. Bryn Mawr, Pa.: Hildegard Publishing, 1994 (09401 Hildegard Publishing). Symphoniae: Spiritual Songs. RCA, 1993 (77020). Unfurling Love’s Creation. Lyrichord LEMS, 1995 (8027). Voice of the Blood. Sequentia. Germany, 1995 (Harmonia Mundi DES 05472-77346-2).

The Problemata of Heloise Anne Collins Smith

“Heloise is remembered primarily as a tragic romantic heroine, and her scholarly and educational achievements are overlooked.” This statement by Elizabeth Mary McNamer sums up centuries of historical interest in Heloise quite well. Her considerable achievements over more than thirty years as an abbess and educator have long been overshadowed by her brief marriage and its shocking end.1 Born around 1100,2 Heloise was the niece and ward of Fulbert, a canon of the cathedral of Notre Dame. Her early education was at a convent school in Argenteuil; as a teenager she may have studied at the cathedral school at Notre Dame.3 After Heloise left Argenteuil in about 1116, Fulbert engaged the wellknown scholar Peter Abelard to tutor her in philosophy. The two fell in love, had a child, and were secretly married. It was Abelard and not Heloise who wanted to marry; at Heloise’s insistence the marriage was kept secret because it would have hampered Abelard’s career. After they married, Abelard continued to teach philosophy, while Heloise returned to Argenteuil, the convent where she had studied as a girl. Although their separation was a mutual decision, it enraged Fulbert, who thought Abelard was selfishly shunting Heloise aside. Fulbert hired men to attack and castrate Abelard. In terms of romantic legend, the story usually ends here, with the grieving lovers driven apart forever, Abelard entering a monastery and Heloise taking her final vows. But Heloise’s story only begins there. The vows that separated her from Abelard joined her to a community in which she flourished. She lived another forty years, devoting her life to the extraordinarily successful development and management of a religious order for women.4 First as prioress of Argenteuil where she had received her own education and later, after Abbot Suger expelled the nuns from Argenteuil,5 as abbess at the 173

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Paraclete, Heloise was accorded a good deal of authority, particularly with regard to the education of the sisters. As abbess of the Paraclete, which formerly had been Abelard’s hermitage-school,6 she gained a reputation as a capable administrator and a proponent of education. It was also as abbess of the Paraclete that she maintained the now famous correspondence with Abelard known as the Letters. Just as the historical record has emphasized the few years of Heloise’s life involving Abelard as tragic romantic legend, similarly, critics have tended to emphasize the passages in the Letters in which Heloise depicts herself as an emotional tragic victim. Recent commentators have found more than mere victimhood in the Letters, however. Catherine Brown argues convincingly that Heloise’s letters to Abelard are vigorously infused with Heloise’s sense of identity, particularly her sense of herself as female.7 Moreover, her epistolary identity is neither externally imposed nor passively accepted; rather, as Brown demonstrates, Heloise deliberately constructs the feminine voice in which she writes, the personae and positions she adopts, and the questions of gender she raises in the Letters. Andrea Nye offers the thesis that a careful reading of the dialogue between Abelard and Heloise in the Letters demonstrates the inadequacy of Abelard’s worldview as well as the healthier integration of Heloise’s. She writes, The cause of [Abelard’s] communicative disability is the very separation of passion and reason in which he takes such pride as a philosopher . . . Abelard’s rational thought, detached from the issues at hand, becomes an exercise in conceptual dexterity. At the same time, his repressed emotions stagnate. . . . For Heloise, there is no such separation between passion and thought. . . . Her passions are as thoughtful as her language is passionate.8

According to Nye, Heloise’s dynamic and holistic approach to thinking (and to the expression of thoughts in words) offers an understanding of the relation between concepts and reality that is more complex and effective than Abelard’s theory of universals. While Heloise did curtail her expression of her grief and perplexity about their personal relationship in response to Abelard’s command,9 by no means did she cease to write. Among the valuable writings by Heloise during this period are the Problemata, a list of questions that Heloise and her students collected as they studied scripture and submitted to Abelard.10 At first glance, the Heloise who emerges in the Problemata appears far less personally engaged with her topic and thus far less personally accessible to the reader than the Heloise of the Letters. Unlike the Letters, which directly concern issues of relevance to Abelard and Heloise’s personal history, the Problemata draw nearly all their questions from scripture. They are written in the first person plural, and there is no indication which questions, if any, are asked by Heloise herself and which come from her students.

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Nevertheless, the Problemata offer us considerable insight into Heloise’s teaching persona and pedagogy. The text opens with a cover letter that functions as an apologia for the project. Its first paragraph cites St. Jerome’s praise of Marcella for her scholarly enthusiasm. Heloise records Jerome’s approval that Marcella did not “think that anything I might answer was right, in the manner of the Pythagoreans, nor did a prejudged authority without reason have value according to her; but she examined all things, and thought broadly with a wise mind, so that I felt that I had not so much a student as a judge.” Marcella is clearly held up as a type that Heloise intends to emulate. Abelard, meanwhile, is cast in the role of Jerome, whose answers are to be judged by examination and not simply accepted on authority. By citing Jerome’s praise of Marcella, Heloise validates her examination of the scriptures for the purpose of seeking greater understanding. Furthermore, she asserts the appropriateness of insisting on answers that are not based simply on authority, but can stand up to careful and reasoned examination. Heloise’s choice of Marcella as her exemplar is informed by a medieval politics of gender. Marcella/Heloise, the seeker who questions both the scriptures and the authority who purports to explain them, is female; Jerome/Abelard, the scholar who both answers and approves of her questions, is male. Not only is it appropriate for the student to challenge authority; it is appropriate for a woman to challenge a man, and it is the male authority himself who has approved this procedure. Heloise tells Abelard, perhaps playfully, that the quotations from Jerome are “not examples, but warnings.” The justification offered by Jerome for Marcella’s questioning is the “flame she had in her breast [i.e., her desire to understand scripture], to rise above sex, to forget human beings.” This metaphor, together with his praise of her “wise mind,” suggests that the non-gender-specific power of reason transcends human limitations and distinctions, even the distinction between male and female. As feminist epistemologists have observed, however, the notion of an ungendered or gendertranscending rationality arises within a context of masculine reasoning and is identified with masculine modes of thinking such as the dichotomy of subject and object and the rigid exclusion of emotions and desires from thoughts.11 Rather, Jerome’s juxtaposition of the “flame in her breast/heart” (the seat of emotions) with the “wise mind” is more reminiscent of Plato’s association of erotic love with the desire for the highest knowledge [cf. Symposium 211e]. For Plato, earthly sexuality is a shadow and a signifier of the soul’s erotic hunger for complete understanding.12 Thus, Heloise and her nuns transcend sex, not in a cold application of pure reason but in a passionate desire for knowledge. Moreover, Heloise’s questions furnish valuable details for understanding her education. The Latin in which they are written is remarkably erudite. Whereas classical Latin is compressed, packing as much meaning as possible into its inflected endings, medieval Latin has a tendency to sprawl, using “quod” clauses

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rather than indirect discourse and relying on prepositions rather than case-endings alone to indicate syntactic relationships. Heloise’s Latin is distinctly classical. She uses indirect discourse frequently and makes subtle use of the subjunctive. For example, in Problem 25, she uses the expression nocitura magis quam profutura sciebat, “he knew (they) would harm more than benefit.” The phrase nocitura magis quam profutura is in indirect discourse, governed by sciebat. Nocitura and profutura are future active participles; esse should be supplied to complete the future active infinitive. The deliberate omission of a word whose meaning can be inferred from context (such as esse in this example) is a classical stylistic device known as ellipsis. The elegance and economy of this phrasing is typical of Heloise’s style and reveals a confident expertise with formal Latin. Problem 8 offers us an example of Heloise’s use of the subjunctive. In her discussion of the incident of the woman caught in adultery, she observes enim eam lapidari non permittit, nisi ab eo qui peccato careat (“it was not permitted to stone her, except by someone who was lacking in sin”). Careat, the subjunctive, is used here to indicate a hypothetical situation because, as Heloise states in the next sentence, no one is actually lacking in sin. Heloise also shows familiarity with more arcane constructions such as the supine and the accusative of respect. She uses the supine in the introductory letter: cujus hortatu, imo et jussu, “by whose exhortation, nay, by whose order.” Note that hortatu and jussu are ablatives of means, correctly (classically) used without prepositions. The accusative of respect (also called “the Greek accusative” because it reflects the influence of Greek syntax) appears in Problem 35, when Samuel is described as being vitam tenera aetate, “at a tender age with respect to life.” Indeed, her opening sentence is gracefully periodic and complex: “Beatus Hieronymus sanctae Marcellae studium, quo tota fervebat circa quaestiones sacrarum litterarum maxime commendans ac vehementer approbans, quantis eam super hoc praeconiis laudum extulerit, vestra melius prudentia quam mea simplicitas novit.” [“St. Jerome, who greatly commended and strongly approved the course of study of St. Marcella, by which she occupied herself totally with questions on the scriptures, extolled her for this with how many commendations of praise, your prudence knows better than my simplicity.”] “Your prudence,” which does not occur until the last clause of the sentence, is actually the subject. Heloise separates the modifier from the noun (vestra melius prudentia), a classical stylistic device common in phrases such as summa cum laude. St. Jerome himself is the subject of the indirect question that begins with quantis (“by how many”); this indirect question functions as the direct object of the main verb novit. The participial phrase that modifies St. Jerome also encapsulates a relative clause (q u o. . . litterarum). The indirect question may be distinguished from the relative clause not only by its meaning but also by the different formation of the verb. Such a degree of complexity is the work of a highly educated writer.

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The content of the questions, as well as their style, also indicates Heloise’s high degree of education, since they demonstrate her familiarity with the four recognized categories of biblical interpretation: “literal (historical), allegorical (spiritual), anagogical (having to do with future life), and tropological (practical application).”13 Indeed, the selection excerpted from the Problemata below was influenced by these categories: questions 3, 11, 25, 34, and 39 are literal; 6, 26, and 40 are allegorical; 12 and 28 are anagogical; and 18 and 20 are tropological. Heloise’s manner of questioning is always respectful, even though a number of the questions address apparent discrepancies in scripture. Both the cover letter and the tone of the questions exhibit a sincere effort to deepen faith by acquiring greater understanding. Similarly, there is no condescension or impatience in Abelard’s replies; he takes Heloise’s questions seriously and answers them in a reflective and scholarly manner, as one intellectual to another. In addition to their division according to mode of interpretation, the questions also differ widely in their degree of difficulty. Some of the questions are quite subtle; others are extremely simple. Problem 25, for example, touches on a very difficult area of exegesis, namely, the inclusion of Gentiles in Jesus’ mission. After introducing some important distinctions, Abelard finally admits that the ultimate explanation rests with God, “who does nothing without a reason.” This is a rare moment because it is about as close as Abelard ever comes to saying, “I don’t know.” On the other hand, Problem 39 simply asks for an explanation of a puzzling Latin locution used in the Vulgate. Since these questions were gathered from Heloise’s sessions reading and explicating scripture with her nuns, I believe this range of difficulty suggests a wide scope of scholarly preparedness and ability among her pupils. While the degree of difficulty of some of the questions reflects well on the sophistication of Heloise’s teaching, her decision to include the simpler ones is particularly impressive. Surely she could have answered them herself, and one can imagine a haughtier person dismissing those questions as unworthy to send out for consultation. The fact that she included questions from these newest or least prepared or least able students suggests a pedagogical style that is generous, patient, and inclusive. Moreover, Abelard—not known for patience with his own students—respects her graciousness, answering elementary inquiries about idiomatic expressions as carefully as he expounds complex theological distinctions in response to the more sophisticated questions. The Problemata thus offer us a rich insight into Heloise’s academic career, and they allow us to hear many facets of her voice. We hear the respect with which she questions scripture, as well as the determination with which she justifies her right to ask. We grasp the complexity of her style, as well as the erudition of what she expresses. We observe her familiarity with the multiple levels of scriptural exegesis, as well as her patience with multiple levels of student ability. In Heloise’s writing in the Problemata, therefore, we recognize a mature, scholarly, holy woman.

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NOTES 1.

2.

3. 4. 5.

6. 7.

8.

9.

10.

Elizabeth Mary McNamer, The Education of Heloise (Lewiston, N.Y.: Edwin Mellen Press, 1991), p. 106. Barbara Newman’s article “Authority, Authenticity, and the Repression of Heloise,” Journal of Medieval and Renaissance Studies 22.2 (1992): 121–57, constitutes a turning point in Heloise studies, however; since that article few critics are willing to discount Heloise either as the actual author of her letters or as a formidable intellect. Moreover, in The Philosophy of Peter Abelard (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1997) and Abelard: A Medieval Life (Oxford: Blackwell’s, 1998), John Marenbon and M. T. Clanchy reverse the older view of Heloise’s intellectual development being entirely dependent on Abelard, even going so far as to consider that Heloise may have been the most important source of Abelard’s most original and important ideas. Constant Mews’s The Lost Love Letters of Heloise and Abelard: Perceptions of Dialogue in Twelfth-Century France (New York: St. Martin’s Press) and Bonnie Wheeler, ed., Listening to Heloise: The Voice of a Twelfth-Century Woman (New York: St. Martin’s Press, 2000) offer good examples of recent developments in Heloise scholarship. Recently the assumption that she was born around 1100, which is based primarily on Abelard’s reference to her as an “adolescent” at the time of the “calamities,” has been questioned. Clanchy points out that Abelard elsewhere refers to himself as an “adolescent” at a time when he was at least twenty-two or twenty-three (p. 173). Some scholars now wonder whether Heloise might have been in her late twenties when she began to study with Abelard. See, for instance, Bonnie Wheeler’s “Introduction” to Listening to Heloise, p. xviii. McNamer, Education of Heloise, p. 3. Clanchy points the contrast between Heloise’s successful career as an abbess and Abelard’s “disastrously unstable monastic career” (p. 10). See Enid McLeod, Heloise, 2d ed. (London: Chatto and Windus, 1971), pp. 93–104, for a full account of the expulsion from Argenteuil, including discussion of Suger’s charges of immorality. Clanchy describes Abelard’s years at the Paraclete after narrowly escaping excommunication, pp. 232–46. Catherine Brown, “Muliebriter: Doing Gender in the Letters of Heloise,” in Gender and Text in the Later Middle Ages, ed. Jane Chance (Gainesville: University Press of Florida, 1996), pp. 25–51. Andrea Nye, “A Woman’s Thought or a Man’s Discipline?” in Hypatia’s Daughters: Fifteen Hundred Years of Women Philosophers, ed. Linda Lopez McAlister (Bloomington: Indiana University Press, 1996), p. 40. Clanchy remarks on the implications of this command: “More significant in its consequences for European culture than the castration and persecution of Abelard (the ‘calamities’ that followed his marriage) was the silencing of Heloise, as that was a prelude to the silencing of academic women as a class for the next eight centuries” (p. 46). A complete English version of Heloise’s Problemata and Abelard’s responses may be found in McNamer’s The Education of Heloise.

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11.

See, for example, In a Different Voice by Carol Gilligan (Cambridge, Mass.: Harvard University Press, 1982) and Women’s Ways of Knowing by Belenky et al. (New York: HarperCollins Basic Books, 1986). 12. For an excellent examination of the role of gender in the Symposium’s epistemology, see D. M. Halperin, “Why Is Diotima a Woman? Platonic Eros and the Figuration of Gender,” in Before Sexuality: The Construction of Erotic Experience in the Ancient World, ed. D. M. Halperin, J. J. Winkler, and F. I. Zeitlin (Princeton, N.J.: Princeton University Press, 1990), pp. 257–308. 13. McNamer, Education of Heloise, p. 99.

EXCERPTS FROM HELOISSAE PARACLITENSIS DIACONISSAE PROBLEMATA CUM PETRI ABAELARDI SOLUTIONIBUS Epistola Heloissae Ad Petrum Abaelardum. Beatus Hieronymus sanctae Marcellae studium, quo tota fervebat circa quaestiones sacrarum literrarum maxime commendans ac vehementer approbans, quantis eam super hoc praeconiis laudum extulerit, vestra melius prudentia quam mea simplicitas novit. De qua, cum in Epistolam Pauli ad Galatas Commentarios scriberet, ita in primo meminit libro: “Scio quidem ardorem ejus, scio fidem, quam flammam habeat in pectore, superare sexum, oblivisci homines, et divinorum voluminum tympano concrepare, Rubrum hoc saeculi pelagus transfretare. Certe cum Romae essem, nunquam tam festina me vidit, ut de Scripturis aliquid interrogaret. Neque vero, more Pythagorico, quidquid responderem rectum putabat, nec sine ratione praejudicata apud eam valebat auctoritas; sed examinabat omnia, et sagaci mente universa pensabat, ut me sentirem non tam discipulam habere quam judicem.” Ex quo utique studio intantum eam profecisse noverat, ut ipsam caeteris eodem studio discendi ferventibus magistram praeponeret. Unde et ad Principiam virginem scribens, inter caetera sic meminit documenta: “Habes ibi in studio Scripturarum et in sanctimonia mentis et corporis Marcellam et Asellam; quarum altera te per prata virentia et varios divinorum voluminum flores ducat ad eum, qui dicit in Cantico: Ego flos campi, et lilium convallium (Cant. II, 1). Altera ipsa flos Domini tecum mereatur audire: Ut lilium in medio spinarum, sic proxima mea in medio filiarum (ibid., 2). Quorsum autem ista, dilecte multis, sed dilectissime nobis? Non sunt haec documenta, sed monita, ut ex his quid debeas recorderis, et debitum solvere non pigriteris. Ancillas Christi, ac spiritales filias tuas in oratorio proprio congregasti, ac divino mancipasti obsequio; divinis nos intendere verbis, ac sacris lectionibus operam dare, plurimum semper exhortari consuevisti. Quibus saepius intantum Scripturae sacrae doctrinam commendasti, ut eam animae speculum dicens, quo decor ejus vel deformitas cognoscatur, nullam Christi sponsam hoc carere speculo permittebas, si ei cui se devoverit placere studuerit. Addebas insuper ad exhortationem nostram ipsam Scripturae lectionem non intellectam esse quasi

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speculum oculis non videntis appositum. Quibus quidem monitis tam ego quam sorores nostrae plurimum incitatae; tuam in hoc quoque quoad possumus implentes obedientiam, dum huic operam studio damus, eo videlicet amore litterarum correptae, de quo praedictus doctor quodam loco meminit: “Ama scientiam Scripturarum, et carnis vitia non amabis,” multis quaestionibus perturbatae, pigriores efficimur in lectione, et quod in sacris verbis magis ignoramus, minus diligere cogimur, dum infructuosum laborem sentimus, cui operam damus. Proinde quaestiunculas quasdam discipulae doctori, filiae Patri destinantes, supplicando rogamus, rogando supplicamus, quatenus his solvendis intendere non dedigneris, cujus hortatu, imo et jussu hoc praecipue studium aggressae sumus. In quibus profecto quaestionibus, nequaquam ordinem Scripturae tenentes, prout quotidie nobis occurrunt, eas ponimus et solvendas dirigimus. Problema III. Quid est quod saepe Dominus ab aliquibus interrogatus, respondens illis sigillatim dicat: Tu dixisti, vel, Tu dicis, nonnunquam etiam pluribus simul interrogantibus respondeat: Vos dicitis, tanquam hoc eos dixisse assereret, quod quasi dubitantes quaerebant? Sic quippe Judae interroganti: Nunguid ego sum, Rabbi (Matth. XXVI, 25), qui te scilicet sum traditurus? respondit: Tu dixisti. Et interrogatus a pontifice an sit Filius Dei, similiter respondit (ibid., 64). Populo etiam quaerenti, Si tu es Christus dic nobis palam (Joan. X, 24), vel, Tu ergo es Filius Dei (Joan. XVIII, 37)? respondit: Vos dicitis, quia ego sum. Denique et a praeside, id est Pilato, inquisitus an sit Rex Judaeorum, respondit: Tu dicis: quia Rex sum ego (Matth. XXVII, 11). Quae profecto responsiones non immerito dubitationem excitare videntur. Qui enim quaerit utrum hoc sit vel illud, nequaquam enuntiando dicit quod hoc sit, vel illud, sed quasi dubitando quaerit utrum ita sit. Solutio III. Re vera difficilem vel prorsus insolubilem hae responsiones Domini moverent quaestionem, si quod Dominus ait, Tu dixisti, vel, Vos dicitis, vel, Tu dicis, ad praecedentium interrogationum verba referret, ut in eis scilicet haec dicta fuisse assereret, quod nequaquam convenit. Cum ergo Judae interroganti an ipse sit, qui eum tradat, respondit, Tu dixisti, potius quam, Tu dicis, ad pactum illud respexit, quod jam ille cum Judaeis inierat promittens se illis eum tradere cupiditate promissae pecuniae. Quod vero principi sacerdotum interroganti an Christus sit Filius Dei, respondit, Tu dixisti, sic est accipiendum, quod ille, qui eo tempore Christum, quem videbat, esse Filium Dei negabat, saepius olim legem ac prophetas recitando id confessus fuerat. Cum autem Judaeis interrogantibus an sit Christus, vel an sit Filius Dei, respondit, Vos dicitis, verbo scilicet praesentis temporis utens ad eos sicut et ad Pilatum, praesentem jam adesse diem significat, in quo id fateantur. Ubi enim illudentes ei dicebant: Prophetiza, Christe, quis est qui te percussit (Luc. XXII, 64), vel: Ave, rex Judaeorum (Matth. XXVII, 29), eum profecto Christum esse, hoc est unctum quacunque intentione detestabantur. [ . . . ] Similiter Pilato quaerenti an sit rex Judaeorum respondit, tu dicis, potius quam, tu dixisti. Homo quippe gentilis prophetias ignorabat, non ea legerat verba, ubi Christus fuerat promissus, et regnum ejus prophetatum. [ . . . ] Quod tamen ipso die Pilatus saepius verbis asseruit, et in ipso titulo crucis scripto

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meminit, Judaeis ait: Vultis dimittam vobis regem Judaeorum? (Joan. XVIII, 39), et iterum Regem vestrum crucifigam? (Joan. XIX, 15) [ . . . ] Ecce quoties et quam manifeste Pilatus eum regem profiteatur Judaeorum, et ipsum populum Judaeorum gentem ejus appellet. [ . . . ] Problema VI. Quid est quod Dominus sacramenta corporis et sanguinis sui discipulis tradens et commendans, non ait de corpore suo: Hoc est corpus meum Novi Testamenti (Matth. XXVI, 26), cum de sanguine dixerit: Hic est sanguis meus Novi Testamenti (ibid., 28), tanquam magis sanguinem commendaret quam carnem? [ . . . ] Solutio VI. Corpus Christi in sacramento susceptum, humanitas est, quam nascendo de Virgine suscepit, quando, sicut scriptum est: Verbum caro factum est (Joan. I, 14). Sanguis ejus in poculum datus, passio est ipsius, cui communicare debemus quicunque membra ejus sumus. [ . . . ] Non incongrue sanguis effusus praefertur conceptae carni, hoc est, passio ejus nativitati. [ . . . ] Quid Evangelium nisi testamentum est amoris, sicut lex fuerat timoris? [ . . . ] Hoc igitur testamentum in hoc maxime Dominica passio confirmavit, cum pro nobis moriendo, illam nobis dilectionem exhibuit, qua major esse non possit. Unde et ipsemet ait: Majorem hac dilectionem nemo habet, ut animam suam ponat quis pro amicis suis (Joan. XV, 13). In hoc etiam testamentum hoc confirmavit, quod pro doctrina evangelicae praedicationis usque ad mortem perstitit, et moriendo monstravit, quod nascendo non potuit. [ . . . ] Unde bene sanguis Domini potius quam corpus ejus Novi Testamenti, ut diximus, fuerat dicendus. Problema XI. Quid est quod in eodem evangelista legimus Dominum dicere: Dico autem vobis quod ita gaudium erit in coelo super uno peccatore poenitentiam agente, quam super nonaginta novem justis, qui non indigent poenitentia? (Luc. XV, 7.) Multo quippe melius est ac perfectius peccatum cavere quam commissum emendare, et multos quam unum bene agere: Unde hoc magis quam illud Deo constat placere. Quid est ergo quod Deus unius peccatoris poenitentiam plus approbat quam multorum justorum perseverantiam? Solutio XI. Quo quisque amplius de peccato alicujus dolet, magis de correptione ipsius gaudet; et quo dolor damni major exstiterat, et de reparando commodo minus sperandum videbatur, et gravius ut eveniret, majore cum laetitia suscipitur, et majori sollicitudini de damno majus gaudium succedit de commodo. De justis autem quos in bono perseverare confidimus, et ideo minus illi intendimus, de quibus securiores sumus, minore gaudio hinc accendimur quam de conversione peccatoris, quae difficillima videbatur. Non tamen ideo plus valet hujus conversio quam illorum perseverantia; sed plus inde gaudemus cum acciderit, unde plurimum solliciti fueramus ut accideret. Quod ergo dicitur, Gaudium erit in coelo, in Ecclesia praesenti fidelium intelligitur exsultatio, quae nonnunquam etiam regnum coelorum a Domino nuncupatur. Problema XII. Illud quoque nonnihil quaestionis habet quod in Matthaeo legimus de operariis in vineam missis, quorum priores tantum novissimis invidisse videntur, et adversus patremfamilias murmurasse ut tale mererentur

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reponsum: An oculus tuus nequam est, quia ego bonus sum? (Matth. xx, 15.) In futura quippe vita, ita cuique beatorum sufficiet bravium susceptum, ut nemo plus ibi habere appetat quam accipiet, ubi erit tanta omnium charitas, ut unusquisque alterius bonum diligat tanquam suum, nec a voluntate Domini quisquam discrepare possit, nec per malum invidiae adversus aliquem possit nequam oculum habere, maxime cum invidia hos, in quibus est, tantum affligat et cruciet, ut de ipsa poeta dixerit: Invidia Siculi non invenere tyranni Majus tormentum (Horat. Epist. epist. I., V.58, 59) Et alibi: Invidus alterius rebus macrescit opimis. (Ibid. vers. 57.) Solutio XII. Sciendum vero in omni parabola non tam rei veritatem expressam esse quam ex parte aliqua rei similitudinem inductam esse, et saepe historiae veritati similitudinem quasi rem gestam adjungi. [ . . . ] Sic et hoc loco, cum murmurare dicuntur quidam et tanquam indignari alios sibi adaequari; murmuratio ista non indignationis, sed admirationis est accipienda. Qui enim murmurant, mirantur id fieri quod non credebant. Unde murmuratio illa nunc dicitur multorum fidelium admiratio, quod sibi videbunt in praemio adaequari, quos pauciori tempore noverant operari. [ . . . ] Problema XVIII. Quid est in eodem evangelista: Nolite solliciti esse dicentes, quid manducabimus? (Matth. VI, 31.) Et rursum: Nolite solliciti esse in crastinum. Crastinus enim dies sollicitus erit sibi ipsi. Sufficit enim diei malitia sua (ibid., 34). Nunquid enim providentiam prohibet futurorum? Nunquid et ipse Dominus eum qui turrem vult aedificare, de sumptibus cogitare admonet? Et Apostolus: Qui praeest, inquit, in sollicitudine (Rom. XII, 8); sicut et ipse faciebat, de seipso dicens: Instantia mea quotidiana, sollicitudo omnium Ecclesiarum (II Cor. XI, 28). Solutio XVIII. Sollicitudinem proprie Dominus dicit superfluam curam de futuris, quando videlicet pro aliquibus praeparandis, magis necessaria dimittuntur, ut si pro apparatu crastinorum ciborum, praetermittamus orando quaerere a Deo regnum suum, hoc est, tales nos facere, ut in nobis ipse, non peccatum regnet. [ . . . ] Problema XX. Quaerimus et illud quod in sequentibus adjungit: Omnia ergo quaecunque vultis ut faciant vobis homines, et vos facite illis. Haec est enim lex. et prophetae (Matth. VII, 2). Si quis enim vult ut in malo sibi quisquam consentiat, nunquid debet illi praebere consensum in re consimili? Solutio XX. Duo legis naturalis praecepta sunt circa dilectionem proximi, unum scilicet, quod hoc loco ponitur, alterum quod in Tobia legimus, ipso ad filium dicente: Ouod ab alio odis fieri tibi, vide ne alteri tu aliquando facias (Tob. IV, 16). Sicut ergo id de malis, ita illud de bonis accipiendum est, ut videlicet,

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sicut mala nolumus nobis inferri, sic nec aliis inferamus: et econtrario, bona, quae nobis ab aliis volumus conferri, aliis impendere simus parati. Cum ergo dicitur: Quae vultis ut faciant vobis homines, tale est: Quod approbatis in conscientia vestra vobis aliis debere fieri. Nullus enim in conscientia approbat sibi consentiendum esse in malo, sed in his, quae bona aestimat, et fieri digna. [ . . . ] Problema XXV. Quid est illud in Matthaeo, quod Dominus quibusdam civitatibus improperans, ait: Vae tibi, Corozain, vae tibi, Bethsaida; quia si in Tyro et Sidone factae essent virtutes quae factae sunt in vobis, olim poenitentiam egissent in cilicio et cinere! (Luc. X, 13.) Salvare quippe Dominus homines venerat, unde et Jesus, id est Salvator proprio dictus est vocabulo. Cur ergo Tyro et Sidoni civitatibus gentilium illa beneficiorum miracula subtraxit, per quae salvarentur, et ea illis exhibuit, quibus nocitura magis quam profutura sciebat? Sed, inquies, quia sicut ipsemet profitetur, non erat missus nisi ad oves quae perierunt domus Israel (Matth. XV, 24). Sed dico: Cur ad eas, nisi ut salvarentur? Si autem ut salvarentur, quid eis profuit ea sibi fieri, per quae gravius damnarentur, nec sunt ad poenitentiam conversi, sed in sua obstinatione permanentes? Unde et ipsemet Dominus supponit: Verumtamen dico vobis. Tyro et Sidoni remissius erit in die judicii, quam vobis (Luc. X, 14). Denique et Samaritanorum multos refert Joannes ad verbum ejus credidisse (Joan. IV, 36), et eum nonnulla miraculorum beneficia gentilibus etiam tam in viris quam in feminis exhibuisse, per quae illi crederent, vel in fide firmarentur, sicut est illud de puero centurionis (Matth. III, 5; Luc. VII, 2), et de filia Syrophoenissae, de ipsius Tyri finibus egressae (Marc. VII, 26). Solutio XXV. Revera Dominus Jesus ad solos Judaeos in persona propria missus fuit. Quod ergo circa gentiles misericorditer egit, non ex officio missionis fecit, sed ex gratia, debito superaddidit, attendens quod et ipsemet ait: Cum feceritis omnia quae precepta sunt vobis, dicite: Servi inutiles sumus, quod debuimus facere, fecimus (Luc. XVII, 10). [ . . . ] Denique nec illa beneficia gentilibus praestita tam missus facere venit, quam invitatus et quasi precibus ad haec agenda tractus. Quod vero illis praedicationem subtraxit, quos ad poenitentiam sic fuisse convertendos testatur; nequaquam cogimur per hoc fateri eos in hac poenitentia perseveraturos ut salvarentur. [ . . . ] Quod si etiam ponamus illos ad praedicationem Domini fuisse convertendos atque salvandos quibus ipse tamen praedicationis gratiam subtraxit, penes ipsum est, cur hoc facere non decreverit, qui nihil sine ratione facit. [ . . . ] Problema XXVI. Quaerendum etiam videtur quo mysterio, vel qua ratione Dominus in ficulnea quaerens fructum, et non inveniens, quando, ut Marcus ait, non erat tempus ficorum (Marc. XI, 13); eam tamen sua maledictione percussam, continuo effecit aridam, ut deinceps arefacta permaneret, tanquam ex culpa quacunque arboris, hanc maledictionem in eam intorsisset? Solutio XXVI. Arbor sine fructu reperta, Judaea est pro sua nequitia tunc a Domino reprobata, ut boni operis fructu privari mereretur, nequaquam recognoscens suae visitationis tempus. Culpa autem ejus accidit quod tunc tempus

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fructuum ejus non fuerit, quando videlicet Dominicae praedicationis gratiam sibi oblatam repulit. Problema XXVIII. Ex Epistola prima Pauli ad Thessalonicenses: Ipse autem Deus pacis sanctificet vos per omnia, ut integer spiritus vester, et anima et corpus sine querela in adventu Domini nostri Jesu Christi servetur (I Thess. V, 23). Quid est spiritus et anima, tanquam anima non sit spiritus, aut duo spiritus sint in uno homine? Solutio XXVIII. Spiritum pro ratione, hoc est animi discretione hoc loco ponit Apostolus, sicut et ibi, spiritus adversus carnem (Galat. V, 17). Tale est ergo: Integer sit spiritus vester, hoc est ratio ita perfecta vel incorrupta, ut in nullo per errorem exorbitet a veritate. Animam vero dicit voluntatem. [ . . . ] Anima itaque nostra, id est voluntas, integra est, quando a divina non discrepat. Corpus quoque integrum servatur, cum exercitium corporalium sensuum non corrumpitur illecebris carnalibus, nec oculus noster animam nostram depraedetur, neque mors intret per fenestras nostras (Jer. IX, 21). [ . . . ] Sic tunc profecto sine querela, hoc est sine reprehensione servamur usque in adventum Domini, cum tales perseveramus usque ad extremum judicium, vel tales tunc inveniri meremur. Problema XXXIV. Illud etiam movet quod hic dicitur: Donec sterilis peperit plurimos (ibid., 5). Etsi enim Scriptura postmodum referat quod post Samuelem adhuc tres filios et duas filias Anna pepererit, nondum tamen, dum hoc diceret canticum, nisi Samuelem habuisse refertur. Quomodo etiam de filiis suis dicit plurimos et de filiis aemulae suae Phenennae, dicit multos (ibid.), tanquam ipsa plures habuerit quam illa? Quamvis enim Scriptura non definiat quot filios habuerit Phenenna, nonnulli tamen astruunt eam plures habuisse quam Annam, hoc est septem. Solutio XXXIV. Non est necesse ut plurimos hoc loco, pro plures comparative accipiamus, respectu pauciorum; sed plurimos dicit absolute, sicut et multos, verbis in eodem sensu variatis. Nec impedit, si jam multos filios habuisset Anna, quando canticum istud Domino persolvit, quamvis Scriptura nondum retulerit eam habuisse nisi Samuelem. Saepe namque series Scripturae non tenet ordinem historiae, sed nonnulla narrat praepostere. Potuit etiam istud per prophetiae spiritum Anna dicere, cum solum adhuc haberet Samuelem. Denique nec incongrue dicere potuit pro solo Samuele, ut ipse scilicet pluris esset in pretio quam filii Phenennae, licet unus in numero. Hoc enim modo nonnunquam contingit ut illum dicamus plus habere quam alium, qui pauciora numero, sed pretiosiora possidet. Problema XXXIX. [ . . . ] Quid est etiam quod dicit Marcus, Hodie in nocte hac, cum nequaquam nox in die sit? [ . . . ] Solutio XXXIX. [ . . . ] Consuetudo est Scripturae nomine diei pariter diem et noctem comprehendere, veluti cum dicimus, quia ille vixit, vel sedit tot annis et tot diebus, vel quia ibi fuit per tot dies. Sic et cum Marcus dixit hodie, noctem etiam cum suo die comprehendit. [ . . . ] Problema LX. Quid est quod solae bestiae, vel aves commemorantur adductae esse in Paradisum ad Adam, ut videret quid vocaret ea, et non etiam reptilia terrae, ut serpentes, vel reptilia aquae, ut pisces? (Gen. II, 20)

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Solutio LX. Bene quidem, quantum ad mysterium, hoc credimus actum. In Ecclesia namque praesenti continentes, qui se maxime per desiderium ad coelestia sublevant, et quasi volucres in altum volant, avibus comparantur; boni vero conjugati bestiis, quae terram ex parte contingunt, pedibus videlicet, et ex parte ab ea separantur, cum corpore in ea non volutentur. Qui enim matrimonio conjunctus est, divisus est partim Deo serviens, partim saeculo intentus, propter instantes conjugii necessitates. [ . . . ] Reptilia vero, quae toto corpore in imo jacent, nec se ullatenus erigere possunt, reprobi sunt terrenis desideriis penitus vacantes, et in profundo vitiorum commorantes. [ . . . ] Unde nec pisces unquam in sacrificio Dei permissi sunt offerri. NOTES I have followed Elizabeth Mary McNamer’s excellent idea of translating “Quid est” as “What does it mean. . . .”, which seems best to express what Heloise intends here. I have also often rendered the introductory “quod” as “when,” since it tends to introduce a whole situation or circumstance that Heloise is asking about. The Text: Patrologiae Latinae Cursus Completus, commonly known as Patrologia Latina, ed. J. P. Migne. Paris: Imprimerie Catholique, 1855. Vol. 178, cols. 677–730. Notes on the Letter quantis. . . . praeconiis laudum: laudum is genitive plural, hence, “with how many commendations of praise.” Quantis introduces an indirect question. neque. . . . quidquid responderem rectum putabat: The clause quidquid responderem, “whatever I might respond,” is functioning as the subject of the indirect discourse governed by putabat, while rectum is its predicate adjective (note that a clause used as a substantive is neuter). Esse must be understood. Hence the phrase runs: “she did not think that whatever I might respond was right.” videntis: does not modify oculis, though the ending appears similar. Oculis is second declension, dative with appositum; videntis is a present participle and hence follows the third declension and is a genitive of possession. The whole phrase oculis non videntis appositum is thus rendered: “placed next to the eyes of one who does not see.” hortatu . . . jussu: These are supines, a type of verbal noun. aggressae sumus: perfect passive indicative, first person plural, of the deponent verb aggredior. The participle agrees in gender with the understood “we” of the sentence.

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Notes on the Problemata Problema 3 Judae interroganti: The reader may be tempted to consider this, and populo quaerenti below, as ablative absolutes, but a careful examination of the forms will reveal that they are actually dative, and are the indirect objects of respondit. Solutio 3 re vera: “what really happened”; literally: “in regard to the true thing.” moverent: imperfect subjective active, third person plural. This is a present contrary-to-fact conditional; if what the Lord said referred to the exact wording of the questions just asked, he would seem to be stating an untruth. But in fact, as Abelard goes on to explain, what Jesus says refers to statements made by the questioners at some other time, and thus he is not stating an untruth. verbo utens: Note that utor, a deponent verb, takes the ablative. Solutio 6 caro: predicate nominative Problema 8 nisi ab eo qui peccato careat; note the use of the subjunctive to indicate a hypothetical situation, since in fact no one is lacking in sin. Heloise frequently uses the subjunctive in this manner. Problema 11 quam commissum emendare: note the use of ellipsis and the economy of the participle: “than to correct it (i.e., sin), once it has (already) been committed.” Problema 12 oculus tuus nequam est: “to have a malicious eye” means to be jealous. The lines from Horace are in dactylic hexameter. Scansion reveals invidia to be ablative (the “a” must be long). Invenere: alternate poetic form of invenerunt. Solutio 12 indignari: This introduces alios sibi adaequari as indirect discourse. Note that sibi refers back to the subject of dicuntur indignari, which is quidam (“certain ones,” not to be confused with quidem, “indeed”). Problema 18 Nolite solliciti esse dicentes: This is a negative imperative construction, literally “Do not want to be worried.” Dicentes is in apposition to the understood subject, “you.” Mary Martin McLaughlin considers this Problema “particularly revealing” of the tension between spirituality and practicality Heloise felt in her position as

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abbess: “What made the Paraclete successful, it appears, was precisely the careful exercise of authority by this “prudent” abbess whose practical accomplishments were manifest in the high regard and material advancement she won for her community.” [“Heloise the Abbess,” in Listening to Heloise: The Voice of a TwelfthCentury Woman, ed. by Bonnie Wheeler (New York: St. Martin’s Press, 2000), p. 4.] Solutio 20 simus parati: perfect subjunctive passive of paro, meaning “let us be prepared.” quae in quae bona aestimat: neuter accusative plural; antecedent is his. Problema 25 in Matthaeo: I am not sure why Heloise uses a quotation from Luke, when she opens her question by asking about Matthew. The passage cited appears in Matthew as well; indeed, Mt. 11:21–22 is virtually identical to the quotation given here. nocitura magis quam profutura: indirect discourse, governed by sciebat. Nocitura and profutura are future active participles; the reader should supply esse to complete the future active infinitive: “would harm more than benefit.” per quae illi crederent, yel in fide firmarentur: it is not possible simply by looking at the forms to distinguish an affirmative clause of purpose from an affirmative clause of result. The immediate context supports a clause of result, because the examples given are of people who did in fact come to believe, and I have followed this interpretation in my translation: “through which they believed in him, or became strong in their faith.” But since the broader context addresses the idea of miracles which are performed for the purpose of encouraging belief, an interpretation of clause of purpose is defensible: “through which they might come to believe, or might become strong in their faith.” Problema 34 peperit: Future perfect of pario, to bear children. de filiis suis: Does this refer to sons only, or to children in general? The masculine plural is inclusive in Latin, which makes it hard to tell. It appears, however, that Heloise means children in general rather than specifically sons; Hannah had four sons and two daughters, or six children overall, and Peninnah is said to surpass her by having seven. Solutio 34 As a philosopher, Abelard is best known for his interest in the problem of universals, which focused on the relation of words to reality. His fascination with the different ways in which the same word may be plausibly reconciled with reality is evident both here, where he posits no fewer than four ways to interpret plurimos, and in his solution to 39.

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Problema 39 Hodie in nocte hac: This is a situation in which a smooth translation such as “this very night” obscures the point of the question. Reading the phrase literally, it is understandable how a student might think it strange to identify a night as taking place during the day. Solutio 39 quia: here means not “because” but simply “that,” introducing a clause that substitutes for indirect discourse. Abelard tends to prefer classical indirect discourse (accusative ⫹ infinitive); the quia clause construction, however, would be easier for someone whose grasp of Latin is weak, as the question itself suggests, and its use by Abelard implies a degree of patience and sensitivity to his audience. Solutio 40 terrenis desideriis: must be taken with reprobi to mean “those condemned by earthly desires,” since it makes no sense in this context with vacantes; these unfortunate people are by no means “free from earthly desires.” Instead, vacantes can be taken absolutely to mean “being empty.” EXCERPTS FROM THE PROBLEMATA OF HELOISE, ABBESS OF THE PARACLETE WITH THE SOLUTIONS OF PETER ABELARD The Letter of Heloise to Peter Abelard. St. Jerome, who greatly commended and strongly approved the course of study of St. Marcella, by which she occupied herself totally with questions on the scriptures, extolled her for this with how many commendations of praise, your prudence knows better than my simplicity. When he wrote his commentaries on the letter of Paul to the Galatians, he recalled about her in the first book: “I know her ardor, I know her faith, what a flame she had in her breast, to overcome sex, to forget human beings, and to beat the drum of the divine scrolls, to cross the Red Sea of this age. Indeed, when I was at Rome, no sooner did she see me, than she asked me something about the scriptures. Nor did she think that anything I might answer was right, in the manner of the Pythagoreans, nor did a prejudged authority without reason have value according to her; but she examined all things, and thought broadly with a wise mind, so that I felt that I had not so much a student as a judge.” She had certainly known how she benefited from this study, so that she gave herself the charge of teaching to others who were eager in the same course of study. Whence also writing “Ad Principiam Virginem,” he remembers among other things examples such as this: “You have there Marcella and Asella, in the study of the scriptures and in the holiness of mind and body; one of whom shall lead you through green valleys and the various flowers of divine scrolls to him who says in the Song of Songs: “I am the flower of the field, and the lily of the valley” (S. of S. 2:1). The other flower of the Lord herself

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deserves to listen with you: “As a lily in the midst of thorns, so is my dearest in the midst of your daughters” (S. of S. 2:2). To what purpose then are these things, O dear to many, but dearest to us? They are not examples, but warnings, so that from these you may call to mind what you ought to do, and not be slow to resolve debt. You have gathered together the handmaidens of Christ and your spiritual daughters in their own oratory, and turned them over to divine service; you have made us accustomed to turn to the divine words, and to give our effort to the holy readings, and always to be exhorted to the utmost. By which you have commended very often the doctrine of sacred scripture, saying it is like a mirror of the soul, by which its beauty or deformity may be known, you permitted that no bride of Christ lack this mirror, if it were important to her to please the one to whom she devoted herself. You added as well for our very exhortation that the reading of scriptures without understanding is just like a mirror placed next to the eyes of one who does not see. I, as well as my sisters, have been most spurred to action by these warnings; fulfilling our obedience to you insofar as we are able, while we give our effort to this course of study, taken up with the love of literature, about which the aforesaid Doctor in the same place recalls: “Love the knowledge of the scriptures, and you will not love the vices of the flesh,” disturbed by many questions, we perform more slowly in our reading, and we are less compelled to work diligently on that which we are more ignorant about among the sacred words, as long as we sense that the work to which we give our effort is unfruitful. Wherefore, purposing certain little questions as students to a teacher, as daughters to a Father, we ask by begging, we beg by asking, that you will not disdain to turn your attention to solving these, you by whose exhortation, nay, by whose order we have principally set out upon on this course of study. Truly, not holding to the order of scripture in these questions, but just as they occurred to us day by day, we place them and arrange them to be solved. Problem 3. What does it mean when the Lord often, having been asked by some people, answering to one after another, shall say, “You have said it,” or “You say it,” and sometimes to several questiones at once he shall respond: “You say it,” as if he were asserting that they had said, what they had asked as if doubting? Thus indeed to Judas who was asking, “Surely it is not I, Rabbi” (Mt. 26:25) (that is to say, who am about to betray you), he answered, “You have said it.” And having been asked by the high priest whether he were the Son of God, he answered similarly (Mt. 26:64). And to the people who were asking, “If you are the Christ, tell us openly” (Jn 10:24), or “You are therefore the Son of God?” (Jn. 18:37) he answered: “You say that I am.” Finally, when he was asked by the governor, that is, Pilate, whether he was the King of the Jews, he answered, “You say that I am a King” (Mt. 27:11). Surely these responses seem to raise doubt, not without merit. For one who asks whether this or that be the case, by speaking in no way says that this or that is so, but asks, in a manner of doubting, which one may be the case.

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Solution 3. These responses of the Lord would seem to produce a difficult or utterly insoluble question about what really happened, if what the Lord said, “You have said it” or “You are saying it,” or “You say,” referred to the words of the preceding questions, that is to say, as if he asserted that these words had been said in them, which is in no way appropriate. Therefore when he responds, “You have said it,” rather than “You say it” to Judas, when Judas asks whether he, Judas, is the one who would betray him, Jesus was mindful of that pact into which Judas had already entered with the Jews, promising that he would hand Jesus over out of desire for the promised money. That he answers “You have said it” to the head of the priests when he asks whether Christ is the Son of God, should really be understood in this way, that the chief priest, who at that time was denying that Christ—whom he was looking at!— was the Son of God, had very often for a long time confessed it during the recitation of the Law and the Prophets. On the other hand, when he replies “You say it” to the Jews when they ask whether he is the Christ, or whether he is the Son of God, that is to say, using the verb in the present tense to them (just as to Pilate), he means that the day is already present in which they acknowledge it. For when, jesting at him, they were saying, “Prophesy, Christ, who it is that struck you!” (Lk. 22:64) or “Hail, King of the Jews!” (Mt. 27:29), whatever their purpose, they were invoking him as being truly the Christ, that is, the anointed one. Similarly he responds, “You say it” rather than “You have said it” to Pilate, when Pilate asks whether Jesus is the king of the Jews. Inasmuch as that man, being a Gentile, was ignorant of the prophecies, he had not read the words where the Christ had been promised and his kingdom foretold. [ . . . ] Nevertheless, on that same day, Pilate very often asserted it in words, and as he recalled in the very inscription written on the cross, he said to the Jews, “Do you want me to release to you the king of the Jews?” (Jn. 28:39) [ . . . ] See how often and how openly Pilate professes Jesus to be king of the Jews, and calls the Jewish people his nation. Problem 6. What does it mean when the Lord, giving and commending the sacraments of his body and blood to his disciples, does not say about his body: “This is my body of the new covenant” (Mt. 26:26), when he had said about his blood: “This is my blood of the new covenant” (Mt. 26:28), as if he were commending the blood more than the body? [ . . . ] Solution 6. The body of Christ received in the sacrament is the humanity which he received by being born of the Virgin, when, as it is written, “The Word was made flesh” (Jn. 1:14). His blood given in the cup is his passion, in which every one of us who are his members ought to share. [ . . . ] Not inappropriately is the poured-out blood preferred to the conceived flesh, that is, his passion preferred to his birth. [ . . . ] What is the Gospel except a covenant of love, just as the Law had been a covenant of fear? [ . . . ] Therefore the Lord’s passion has established this

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covenant of love in this especially, when by dying for us, he displayed that love for us than which there could not be a greater. Whence also he himself said, “Greater love than this has no one, that he should lay down his own life for his friends” (Jn. 15:13). He has also affirmed this covenant in this, that he persisted in the habit of gospel preaching up to his death, and by dying he demonstrated what he could not have demonstrated by being born. [ . . . ] Whence the Lord’s blood was rightly called “of the new covenant” more than his body, as we have said. Problem 11. What does it mean when, in the same evangelist, we read that the Lord says: “I say again to you that there will be more joy in heaven for one sinner doing penance, than for ninety-nine just people, who did not need penitence”? (Lk. 15:7). For it is much better and more perfect to avoid sin than to correct it once committed, and it is much better for many to do well than one: whence the former should please God more than the latter. What does it mean, therefore, when God approves the penitence of the one sinner more than he approves the perseverance of the many just people? Solution 11. The more anyone grieves for someone’s sin, the more he rejoices at that same one’s redemption. And the more the sorrow of the guilty one had stood out, and the less his redemption by suitable restoration seemed to be hoped for, and the more seriously it would turn out, the more joy with which he is received, and, from greater concern about the guilty one, greater joy results from his reward. On the other hand, concerning the just, whom we trust to persevere in the good, we are also on that account less concerned for those about whom we are more certain. We are fired up with less joy from this cause than from the conversion of the sinner, which seemed most difficult. Nevertheless, the conversion of the latter is not on that account more valuable than the perseverance of the former; but we rejoice more when it happens, since we had been very greatly concerned that it should happen. What is said, therefore, “There will be joy in heaven,” means exultation of the faithful in the present Church, which is also often named the kingdom of heaven by the Lord. Problem 12. There is also some question about when in Matthew we read about the workers sent into the vineyard, of whom the earlier ones seem to be jealous of the newest ones, and they murmured against the head of the household so that they earned a response like this: Is your eye malicious, because I am good? (Mt. 20:15). Indeed, in the life to come, what is received of goods will suffice for each of the blessed, so much so that no one there will seek to have more than he receives; where there will be such a love of all, that each will seek the good of another as much as his own, nor can anyone dissent from the will of the Lord, nor through the evil of jealousy against anyone can one have a malicious eye, since jealousy most greatly afflicts and tortures those in whom it is, just as the poet has said about it:

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The tyrants of Sicily found no greater torment than jealousy (Horace, Epistles I.2, lines 58–59) and elsewhere: The one who is jealous of what belongs to another reduces his own resources (Horace, Epistles I.2, line 57) Solution 12. It should certainly be known that in every parable the truth of a thing is not so much expressed, as a likeness from some part of the thing is introduced, and that likeness to historical truth is often set down as if it were a thing that actually happened. So it is also in this place, when certain ones are said to murmur and, as it were, to be indignant that others are made equal to themselves. This murmuring of theirs should be considered not a murmur of indignation, but a murmur of admiration. For those who murmur, are marveling that something is being done which they would not have believed. Whence that murmur is now said to be the admiration of the many faithful, because they see those who they know were working for a shorter time being made equal to themselves in reward. Problem 18. What does it mean in the same evangelist: “Do not worry, saying ‘What shall we eat?’”? (Mt. 6:31) And again, “Do not worry about tomorrow. For tomorrow will take care of itself. For its own evil is sufficient to each day” (Mt. 6:34). Does he really prohibit providing for the future? Did not this very same Lord warn the man who wanted to build a tower, to think about his expenses? And the Apostle says: “Whoever is in charge, [should act] with deep concern” (Rom. 12:8); just as he himself did, saying about himself: “My daily urgency is the care of all the Churches” (2 Cor. 11:28). Solution 18. To be precise, the Lord is speaking about excessive concern about future things, for instance, when more necessary things are set aside for the sake of other things to be prepared, as if, for the sake of the preparation of foods for tomorrow, we neglect in praying to ask from God his kingdom, that is, to ask that he make us such that he himself, not sin, would reign. [ . . . ] Problem 20. We also ask about that which he adds in the following: “Therefore whatsoever you wish that people should do for you, you should also do for them. For this is the law, and the prophets” (Mt. 7:2). Now, if anyone wishes that someone should plot together with him in evil, should he yield his consent to him on a similar matter? Solution 20. There are two precepts of natural law about the love of neighbor. One, which is given in this place, the other which we read in Tobit, when he says to his son, “See that you never do to another what you hate to have done to you by another” (Tob. 4:16). Therefore, just as it should be considered about bad things, so it should be considered about good things: so, that is to say, just as the evils we do not want inflicted on us, let us not inflect on others, also conversely,

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the good things, which we want to be conferred on us, let us be prepared to bestow on others. When it is said, “what you want people to do to you,” it is as if he said: “what you approve in your conscience to be done to you by others.” For no one approves in his conscience to be consented to in evil, but in these things that he reckons good and worthy to be done. Problem 25. What does this mean in Matthew, when the Lord, reproaching certain cities, says, “Woe to you, Chorazin, woe to you, Bethsaida! For if in Tyre and Sidon the miracles had been performed which were performed in you, they would be doing penance in sackcloth and in ashes!” (Lk. 10:13). For the Lord came to save people, whence also he is properly called “Jesus,” that is, “Savior” by name. Therefore, why did he withhold from Tyre and Sidon, the cities of the Gentiles, those miracles of his good deeds, through which they might be saved, and hold them up as an example to those for whom he knew they would be more harm than benefit? But I am troubled, because just as he himself acknowledged, he was sent only to the sheep who were lost from the house of Israel (Mt. 15:24). But I say, Why to them, unless it were that they should be saved? Now, if he came that they should be saved, what did it profit them that these things were done for them, through which they were more seriously damned, when they did not convert to repentance, but persisted in their obstinacy? Whence also the Lord himself posits: “Nevertheless I say to you, it will go easier for Tyre and Sidon on the day of judgment than for you” (Lk. 10:14). Finally also John reports that many of the Samaritans believed at his word (Jn. 4:36) and that he demonstrated some good deeds of miracles to the Gentiles, men and women alike, through which they believed in him, or became strong in their faith, as is the case with the centurion’s son (Mt. 3:5; Lk. 8:2), and the daughter of the Syro-Phoenician woman, who came from the boundaries of Tyre itself. Solution 25. Truly the Lord Jesus was sent in his own person to the Jews alone. Therefore, what he mercifully did among the Gentiles, he did not do from the purpose of his mission, but added from grace over and above his duty, paying heed to what he himself said, “When you shall have done all the things which were commanded to you, say: we are useless servants because we have done what we were obliged to do” (Lk. 17:10). [ . . . ] He did not come so much as being sent to perform guaranteed favors for the Gentiles, as much as having been invited and as it were drawn by prayers to doing them. Indeed, he testifies that he withheld this preaching from those who would thus have been converted to penitence; we are not constrained by this to say that they would have persevered in their penitence so that they would have been saved. [ . . . ] Even though we would posit that those from whom he withheld the grace of his teaching ought to have been converted to the teaching of the Lord and saved, it is in his power, who does nothing without a reason, why he decided not to do this.

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Problem 26. It seems that it should be asked, by what mystery, or for what reason, the Lord was seeking fruit on a fig tree and not finding it when, as Mark says, it was not fig-season (Mk. 11:13); nevertheless he made it barren at once; so that from then on it remained withered, having been struck by his curse, as if it were from some fault of the tree that he brought this curse upon it? Solution 26. The tree found without fruit is the Jewish nation, reproved then by the Lord on account of its wickedness, so that it deserved to be deprived of the fruit of good work, since it did not recognize in any way the season of its visitation. But its fault took place because then was not to be the time for its fruit, that is to say, when it refused the grace of the Lord’s preaching offered to it. Problem 28. From the first letter of Paul to the Thessalonians: “May the very God of peace make you holy in every respect, that your spirit may be whole, and your soul and body be preserved without complaint, for the coming of our Lord Jesus Christ” (1 Th. 5:23). What does he mean, “spirit and soul,” as if the soul were not spirit, or as if there were two spirits in one person? Solution 28. In this place, the Apostle posits “spirit” as reason, that is, discretion of the mind, as he also does here, “the spirit opposed to the flesh” (Gal. 5:17). So it is as if he said: “Let your spirit be sound, that is, a reason so perfect or incorrupt, that it might in no way deviate from the truth because of error.” But indeed, he calls the will “soul.” [ . . . ] Therefore our soul, that is will, is sound when it does not differ from the divine will. The body is kept sound when the exercise of the bodily senses is not corrupted by carnal enticements, and let not our eye despoil our soul, nor let death enter through our windows (Jer. 9:21). [ . . . ] Therefore let us keep ourselves truly without complaint, that is, without blame, until the coming of the Lord, when we shall persevere as such until the Last Judgment, or deserve at that time to be found as such. Problem 34. It also concerns us when it is said here: “Until the barren woman shall bring forth very many children” (1 Sam. 2:5). For even though scripture later reports that after Samuel, Hannah bore three more sons and two daughters, still it had not happened yet when she spoke this canticle, unless it refers to her having had Samuel. Also, how does she say plurimos, “very many,” about her own children and say multos, “many” about the children of her rival Peninnah, as if Hannah had more children than Peninnah? For although scripture does not state how many children Peninnah had, yet some estimate that she had more than Hannah, that is, seven. Solution 34. It is not necessary that we should accept plurimos in this place as plures (“many”) in the comparative, since it is said in regard to fewer things; but it says plurimos in the absolute sense, as equivalent to multos (“many”), being different words with the same meaning. Nor is it an obstacle if Hannah had already had many children when she rendered that canticle to the Lord, although scripture had not yet reported that she had had any except Samuel. For the sequence of events of scripture does not preserve the order of history, but narrates some things out of order.

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Also, Hannah could have said this through the spirit of prophecy, when she still had only Samuel. Finally, it could be appropriately said on behalf of Samuel alone, that is to say, that he himself is worth more than the children of Peninnah, even though he is one in number. For in this way it sometimes happens that we say that one thing has “more” than another, which comprises fewer—but more valuable—things in it. Problem 39. [ . . . ] Also, what does it mean when Mark says, “Today on this night,” when the night is not in the day? Solution 39. It is the habit of scripture to include in the name of “day” equally day and night, as when we say that someone lived or reigned for so many years and so many days, or that someone was at some place for so many days. So also when Mark said, “today,” he included the night along with its day. Problem 40. What does it mean when only the beasts, and the birds, are recounted to have been led into Paradise for Adam, to see what he would call them, and not also the reptiles of the earth, such as serpents, or the reptiles of the water, such as fish? (Gn. 2:20). Solution 40. Indeed, we believe that this was done well, as far as mystery is concerned. For in the church at present those who are abstinent, who especially raise themselves up through desire to heavenly things and fly to the height of heaven like winged creatures, are compared to birds; good spouses indeed are compared to the beasts, who partly touch the earth, that is to say, with their feet, and are partly separated from it, since they do not roll themselves around in it. For one who is conjoined in marriage is divided, partly serving God, partly concerned with the world, on account of the urgent needs of wedlock. [ . . . ] Now, reptiles, who lie with their whole body in the deepest place, and cannot raise themselves up at all, are the ones condemned by earthly desires, inwardly empty, lingering in the depth of their vices. [ . . . ] Whence also fish are never permitted to be offered in sacrifice to God. BIBLIOGRAPHY Primary Sources Heloise and Abelard. “Problemata.” In Patrologiae Latinae Cursus Completus, edited by J. P. Migne. Paris: Imprimerie Catholique, 1855. Vol. 178, cols. 677–730. Radice, Betty, trans. The Letters of Abelard and Heloise. Harmondsworth: Penguin, 1974.

Secondary Works Baker, Derek. Medieval Women. Oxford: Basil Blackwell, 1978. Berman, Constance H., Charles W. Connell, and Judith Rice Rothschild, eds. The Worlds of Medieval Women: Creativity, Influence, and Imagination. Morgantown: West Virginia University Press, 1985. Brown, Catherine. “Muliebriter: Doing Gender in the Letters of Heloise.” In Gender and Text in the Later Middle Ages, edited by Jane Chance. Gainesville: University Press of Florida, 1996. Clanchy, M. T. Abelard: A Medieval Life. Oxford: Blackwell’s, 1998.

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Dronke, Peter. Women Writers of the Middle Ages: A Critical Study of Texts from Perpetua (†203) to Marguerite Porete (†1310). Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1984. ———. “Heloise’s Problemata and Letters: Some Questions of Form and Content.” In Petrus Abaelardus (1079–1142): Person, Werk und Wirkung. Trier: Paulinus-Verlag, 1980. Gilson, Etienne. Heloise and Abelard. Translated by L. K. Shook. Chicago: H. Regnery, 1951. Gold, Barbara K., Paul Allen Miller, and Charles Platter, eds. Sex and Gender in Medieval and Renaissance Texts: The Latin Tradition. Albany: State University of New York Press, 1997. Hamilton, Elizabeth. Heloise. London: Hodder and Stoughton, 1966. Marenbon, John. The Philosophy of Peter Abelard. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1997. McLeod, Enid. Heloise. London: Chatto and Windus, 1971. Mews, Constant J. The Lost Love Letters of Heloise and Abelard: Perceptions of Dialogue in Twelfth-Century France. New York: St. Martin’s Press, 1999. McNamer, Elizabeth Mary. The Education of Heloise: Methods, Content, and Purpose of Learning in the Twelfth Century. Medieval Studies, Vol. 8. Lewiston, N.Y.: Edwin Mellen Press, 1991. Newman, Barbara. “Authority, Authenticity, and the Repression of Heloise.” Journal of Medieval and Renaissance Studies 22.2 (1992): 121–57. Nye, Andrea. “A Woman’s Thought or a Man’s Discipline? The Letters of Abelard and Heloise.” In Hypatia’s Daughters: Fifteen Hundred Years of Women Philosophers, edited by Linda Lopez McAlister. Bloomington: Indiana University Press, 1996. Power, Eileen. Medieval Women. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1976. Wheeler, Bonnie, ed. Listening to Heloise: The Voice of a Twelfth-Century Woman. The New Middle Ages. New York: St. Martin’s Press, 2000.

Autobiography or Autohagiography? Decoding the Subtext in the Visions of Elisabeth of Schönau Thalia A. Pandiri

A younger contemporary of Hildegard of Bingen, Elisabeth of Schönau (1129–1165) was also a nun in a Benedictine monastery and also from the Rhineland. We know that she entered the monastery at the age of twelve and made her monastic profession while still an adolescent. At the age of twenty-three, one year after Hildegard composed her visionary text Scivias, Elisabeth began to experience visions, and some of the other sisters wrote down her accounts of what she saw and heard. In 1155, three years after her visions began, her brother Ekbert came to join her at Schönau. Renouncing a promising career as a theologian, and although he seemed destined for ordination and, eventually, for an episcopal see, he nevertheless became Elisabeth’s confidant, guide, and secretary/editor, and eventually he was made abbot of Schönau.1 As we shall see, Ekbert’s role as transcriber, at times translator, and redactor of her works is problematic for those wishing to determine what constitutes Elisabeth’s authentic voice. About other members of Elisabeth’s immediate family we know relatively little, but what information we have suggests that she belonged to the lesser nobility of the region. Her family was well connected to the church. Her mother’s paternal uncle Ekbert was bishop at Münster and is perhaps best known for his role in the conversion of a young Jewish moneylender, Judas Levi/Hermann, who writes about him in his work Opusculum de conversione sua. Of her parents we know only her father’s name, Hartwig. Her brother Ruotger was provost of the Premonstratensian house at Pöhlde. Elisabeth refers to one sister as living far away, to another as a nun at Schönau. Most influential in her life was her brother Ekbert, who renounced his career as a canon at Bonn to join her order as a monk. It should not surprise us that we know little about Elisabeth not directly related to her life as a cloistered nun and as a visionary. Probably from the time 197

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she entered the monastery, and certainly from the moment she made her profession, her entire life was shaped by the routine of a Benedictine nun: participation in the offices of the eight canonical hours, the unremitting reading of the Bible, particularly the psalter, constant prayer, and spiritual introspection. The events in her life that are important to her concern the salvation of her soul and her spiritual progress. It is no wonder that what she offers us, even in those early passages that seem most personal and idiosyncratic, is not a diary in the modern sense or individual self-revelation, but rather the account of a devout Christian who has dedicated her life to God, undergoes diabolic temptation, struggles against it, and with God’s help is saved and rewarded with a special visionary gift.2 She associates this reward with the suffering she must endure;3 as we shall see, her suffering is not passive, although she also describes herself as a vessel through which God speaks and as the passive recipient of God’s painful but also joy-producing grace. God’s grace cannot be earned by any human being; nonetheless, mankind (and especially monks and nuns) must strive constantly to make themselves worthy of receiving the gift of that unearned grace, which is most vividly and constantly symbolized by the Eucharist. Even before she receives her visions (as Elisabeth tells her brother Ekbert in a prologue to her account of the earliest visions), she was “afflicted by the arrows of the Lord,” recalling both Job 6:4 and Psalm 37:3. In both instances, this affliction, seen as God’s placing his hand upon someone specially chosen, reveals the indissoluble connection of pain and election. The reference also calls to mind the familiar image of St. Sebastian’s martyrdom. Martyrdom is a central concept for Elisabeth, as is to be expected: she is enjoined by the Rule of St. Benedict (chapter 73) to study assiduously the precepts of the fathers of the faith, especially Cassian, and to take as models the early martyrs. But Christ too, who suffered crucifixion to save mankind, provides the primary model to emulate. In his account of her last days and death, Ekbert refers to Elisabeth’s life as a martirium.4 This view, however, is not imposed on her narrative from without: she too speaks in terms that point to martyrdom. Her frequent use of the terms in agone passionis meae, diu in agone laboravi, agonizare (“In the contest of my martyrdom, I labored long in the contest, to struggle painfully/participate in a contest”) places her in the arena with early martyrs such as St. Perpetua, and in the context of Christ’s suffering. Passio, the “passion” of Christ on the cross or of the martyrs who often literally faced an agon or athletic contest in the arena (and who saw their contest as a struggle not with the wild beasts set against them but with the devil himself), has little to do with passivity.5 Christ Himself resists temptation and willingly accepts the “cup” of suffering His Father has set before him. Perpetua renounces a father who loves her and whom she pities and an infant she loves, refusing to deny who she is: a Christian. She goes knowingly, willingly, and resolutely to her martyr’s death. In this context we must evaluate Elisabeth’s preparation for receiving visions, and the way in which she herself perceives her physical suffering. She

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identifies with the crucified Savior and her description of a particularly painful episode (“if my flesh were being plucked into pieces, it would be easier to bear,” Vis. 1.48) recalls the torments of martyrdom.6 Elisabeth is not alone in believing that grace can be obtained by undergoing physical suffering, whether it is caused by illness or self-induced through fasting or flagellation, wearing a rough garment next to the skin or an iron belt that macerates the flesh.7 In Caroline Walker Bynum’s words, “Medieval people . . . manipulated their own bodies for religious goals,” resorting to a variety of practices, including “hanging themselves in elaborate pantomimes of Christ’s crucifixion.”8 The common acceptance of selfflagellation and the efficacy of this means of cooperating, not only in one’s own salvation but in that of others are well illustrated in Elisabeth’s text. For instance, in Vis. 1.9 the entire monastic community undertakes to help her not only through communal prayer and special masses but also by self-castigation.9 As Bynum argues, for medieval people there is no disjunction between mind and body. Mortification of the flesh, whether self-inflicted, resulting from illness, or caused by others, can foster the same results of purification and salvation, provided the sufferer perceives, accepts, and responds to her affliction with a view to cooperating in her own salvation. So Elisabeth interprets bodily symptoms in terms of her spiritual experience whereas a modern reader might instead identify the symptoms with particular physical or emotional illnesses. In Vis. 1.3, for instance, Elisabeth describes what sounds to a modern reader like a convulsive seizure. But she herself conceives of her experience as an act of resistance: the devil is preventing her from adoring the cross and kneeling in prayer. She hurls herself to the ground where she suffers violent convulsions but is able thus to abase herself in prayer.10 Perhaps nowhere is the unity between mind and body so evident as in her description of being whipped in anger by her guardian angel11 as punishment for concealing what has been revealed to her. The beating was so violent that to the sisters watching her while she was experiencing a vision, her body appeared to be wracked by seizures (Vis. 178).12 The martyrological model is not the only one Elisabeth has before her; she conceptualizes who she is in terms of scriptural, exegetical, and hagiographical texts as well. For Elisabeth, as for medieval religious people generally, modeling oneself as much as possible on Christ’s example and seeing in one’s own life the illustration of a “type,” rather than a unique individualism, is a given. Even in what might seem an autobiographical narrative, such as Peter Abelard’s Historia Calamitatum, medieval authors see themselves as conforming to familiar exempla and present their own stories, in turn, as exemplary tales.13 The way in which Elisabeth perceives and describes the events preceding the onset of her visionary experience reveals that there is a matrix in her mind: the devil’s temptation of a God-fearing ascetic or monk. A modern reader, imbued with the narratological code—what the ancient Greeks called a muthos—of Freudian psychoanalysis, may read Elisabeth’s description of her state of mind as depression stemming from the constraints of monastic life. But Elisabeth’s account is shaped by a very

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different muthos. For her, the narrative framework that makes sense of her life is that of the sin of acedia or taedium (spiritual weariness), with its related sadness (tristitia) and attendant symptoms, linked to spiritual coldness and dryness.14 The language of the conceptual and narratological code by which she lives, a code that shapes both her life itself and the way she narrates the events that are important for her, permeates her text. Elisabeth’s narrative requires that we listen to the echoes of the texts that shape her very existence and which provide her with the concepts through which she understands her life and the vocabulary and images with which she describes it. I have been speaking of Elisabeth as the author of her own narrative. Yet one must take into account the thorny problem of Ekbert’s role as transcriber, translator, and redactor. We are told that the angel spoke to Elisabeth sometimes in Latin, sometimes in German, and sometimes in a mixture of both, and that she correspondingly voiced some of her utterances wholly in Latin, but others in German. Ekbert vows that he has neither added nor subtracted anything when transcribing her Latin utterances and that he has only faithfully rendered into Latin what she said in German.15 Such formulaic oaths prove nothing,16 and critics have found evidence of Ekbert’s scholarly, theological Latin style in some passages.17 Furthermore, it is clear that the focus of Elisabeth’s visionary experience changes once Ekbert is present and prompts her to ask particular questions of her guiding angel: the straightforward and more diaristic accounts of her earlier narrative are replaced by visions whose political and theological concerns suggest Ekbert’s training and interests more than hers.18 These visions all stem from the period when she was collaborating with Ekbert19 and are recounted in the latter part of the second book and in the third book of Visions. These include the popular vision on the assumption of the Blessed Virgin Mary in the flesh (Vis. 2.31); the Revelatio de sacro exercitu virginum Coloniensium, the vision she was pressured into producing about the newly discovered relics of St. Ursula and her 11,000 virgin companions; and the Liber Viarum Dei, which became extremely popular not long after her death. One can argue that her own interests and cast of mind might have changed and developed as a result of both her spiritual conversations with Ekbert and her increasing importance as a visionary/prophet consulted even by powerful men in the ecclesiastical hierarchy.20 In the later texts, especially, however, it is difficult to locate with any certainty where Elisabeth’s voice ends and Ekbert’s begins. Nevertheless, Elisabeth has a discernible voice, and, paradoxically, it can be heard particularly because it is shaped by more and less distant voices—and these are Latin voices. Ekbert claims that her speaking in Latin, or composing letters in Latin, must be evidence of a divine miracle because Elisabeth was never trained in Latin. We should note, first, the context in which these claims of divinely infused knowledge are made: they validate her visionary narratives and claim divine authority for her prophetic warnings, some of which were directed to powerful,

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respected men well versed in theology. God pours his words into her, and she utters them. Her utterances are thus God’s unmediated word and above criticism.21 What are we to surmise about her command of Latin? On the one hand, she has no formal training. On the other hand, she spends virtually all of her waking hours reading, reciting, singing, and listening to Latin, and by the time her visions begin she has been doing this for over a decade. We know that she can read Latin, since she frequently refers to reading the psalter. For instance, in Vis. 1.2 one of the symptoms of her spiritual malaise is her irritation with the psalms, and she hurls the psalter, which she had been reading, across the room. Elisabeth most frequently refers to reading “fifty psalms,” that is, a third of the psalter, in one session. The number of psalms suggests the earnestness of her resolve, not only to follow Benedict’s rules but also to live up to his exhortation to do more than the minimum prescribed, and to emulate the early fathers who read the entire psalter at once, rather than distributing its one hundred fifty psalms over an entire week as he has prescribed for monks (Rule 73).22 How could she not have internalized the language of the Bible by the time she began to have her visions? We might remember, too, what is expected of her as a nun seeking spiritual perfection: to know the psalms so well not only as text but also as a spiritual compass, as something she has so made a part of her experience that she not only understands but anticipates the words, making the text so completely her own that she becomes its author.23 This complete appropriation of scripture is what we see in her language and what is revealed by a close reading of the opening chapters of Visions, a reading that tries to recapture some of the “thick meaning” in Elisabeth’s narrative. She does not only quote scripture, she combines phrases and images in a way that shows she “speaks Bible” fluently. Although centonization (composing a new text by recombining lines lifted from many different texts) is a common medieval practice and an accepted form of composition, Elisabeth does not create that kind of self-conscious collage. Rather, she thinks in the language of the Bible, each phrase resonating in her writing as well as in her mind with the immediate context in which it is imbedded in the parent text and with a much larger biblical and theological context. The result is a rich, complex, and deeply allusive subtext that runs constantly beneath the surface of her narrative. (Vis. 1.2 in the annotated Latin text below provides a good example of Elisabeth’s polyphonous narrative.) I would argue that for Elisabeth, the language of the texts that constantly occupy her mind is a familiar and intuitively available language and that she composes in it with the same flexibility and freedom with which Homeric bards manipulated the formulaic hexameter language of oral epic in ancient Greece to create new works and to say, within the formal constraints of their medium, anything they needed or wanted to say. The passages that most reward a close reading of Elisabeth’s narrative are the opening chapters of the first book of Visions. We know the earliest redaction of her work included the events of 18 May to 29 August 1152.24 In some manuscripts this (shorter) text bears the title Liber eiusdem de temptationibus inimici,

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quas primo sustinuit et de revelationibus divinis quas post modum vidit (On the Temptations of the Enemy, Which She First Endured, and Her Subsequent Divinely Revealed Visions), which calls attention to the unity of the narrative: temptation by the devil, culminating (through God’s grace, for which she prays strenuously in her struggle against the forces of evil) in her finding herself once again in God and receiving the gift of celestial visions. These early visions would have been recorded originally by some of the nuns closest to Elisabeth, and from the text we see that they witnessed the external manifestations of her trials and visions, and that she spoke to them about what she saw and heard.25 In short, the narration to Ekbert (the “brother” she addresses in her narrative) is not the first time she relates her visions. It seems unlikely that Ekbert would have altered a narrative that was already known, and both the content of the opening chapters and the tone differ from those of the later books. There is a particularlity of idiosyncratic detail and also, in Elisabeth’s vision of the Blessed Virgin assisting at the altar wearing a priest’s chasuble, a subversive originality of vision. Elisabeth’s popular vision of the bodily assumption of Mary (Vis. 2.31) comes as a response to questions that concern Ekbert; it also fits in with contemporary theological debate, which focuses intensely on the importance of resurrection of the body.26 Her vision of Christ as a beautiful female virgin (Vis. 3.4), while it seems sufficiently unusual to merit being brought into line by the angel’s exegesis of the vision—God wants to show the affinity of Jesus and Mary—is also consonant with the pervasive female imagery associated with Christ’s humanitas.27 Elisabeth’s early vision of Mary as a priest-surrogate, however, is more original and more unorthodox; it implicitly challenges the exclusive right of priests to handle the body and blood of Christ and to administer the sacrament. Elisabeth’s visionary experience at times enables her to circumvent the clergy, particularly in her eucharistic visions. The Eucharist is central to Elisabeth’s spirituality, as it is to that of every Christian, but she shows none of the obsession with the Eucharist, or with frequent communion, characteristic of some later women mystics. Like them, however, she is able through her visions to see the secret mystery of transubstantiation and to receive communion without priestly mediation.28 Although the framework of her account is a well-known story (i.e., the temptations endured by the pious soul temporarily bereft of the bridegroom’s divine light), nevertheless both her vision of Mary in a chasuble and her account of her temptations suggest that we have an authentic voice and an account of lived experience. The devil tempts her in a variety of disguises. He first appears as a tiny apparition in a monk’s cowl, whom she sees after a week of spiritual darkness and despair. In this disguise, the devil has penetrated the chapel during the office of compline and, rather than being driven away by the reading of the gospel, he seems to be given greater energy by the mention of his name. At the words “Satan entered into Judas,” he begins to jump up and down and he makes Elisabeth want to laugh (Vis. 1.3). The passage Elisabeth is listening to is the passion of Christ;

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like Judas, who is also, along with Cain, an exemplar of despair, Elisabeth feels she is betraying Christ. Benedict’s Rule (3) warns against arousing laughter, and against loving excessive or raucous laughter; frivolity, scurrilous speech, laughter, chatter—all distract the soul and mind from their proper activity of introspection and contemplation, and they can lead to the sin of pride and to damnation. A scurrilous tongue and inappropriate hilarity can condemn even a layman to torments after death, as we see in the case of Elisabeth’s great-uncle Helid. In a vision (Vis. 2.19), she sees him in purgatory and is surprised: he was a god-fearing man, but he liked a good joke too much. How much worse the punishment for a monk, whose whole purpose is complete and ceaseless dedication to prayer and who must insure the fervor and purity of his praying by having a mind free of all worldly distraction (Cassian, Conf. 9)! Benedict’s repeated and explicit prohibitions of idle chatter, distractions, and laughter suggest that a good deal of inappropriate chattering and laughing must have gone on in monasteries.29 The devil appears to Elisabeth first as a caricature of a monk, sabotaging her attempts to listen to the gospel text and mediate on Christ’s passion and what he suffered to save her. To a secular reader, this “apparition” may seem no more than a distorted perception of a flesh-and-blood monk. For Elisabeth and her contemporaries, however, this would be a distinction without a difference: the devil operates in and through people, and their behavior reveals his presence within or beside them. Medieval people, or at least the perspicacious among them, saw the devil everywhere.30 We should note that Elisabeth’s encounters with the devil consistently differ from her divinely inspired visions: they are preceded by none of the struggle or labor that characterizes divine vision, nor is she in any form of ecstasy, trance, or altered state of mind. The devil is there, and she sees and recognizes him. This same matter-of-factness, the palpable reality of the devil, characterizes some of Elisabeth’s later sightings and encounters when she herself is not in danger or being tempted. On one occasion (Vis. 1.74), she happens to be looking through a window and sees a man standing in the road, shouting at another man, “Devil! What’s taking you so long?” Immediately Elisabeth sees Satan standing next to him in the shape of a black and misshapen bull. We might suspect that, like Freud’s cigar, this bull is just a bull; for Elisabeth and her contemporaries, however, the devil waits to be conjured up even when invoked frivolously; hence, as Elisabeth moralizes (in accordance with Benedict’s precepts) the faithful should avoid cursing. In another even more interesting and complex vision, Elisabeth sees the devil stalking a young, virginal monk.31 This young boy, who has grown up in the monastery, is being led astray by an older, worldly monk who came to Schönau after a career as a soldier. She confronts the devil and disputes with him fearlessly. In this instance, she takes aggressive action. After observing what is going on and deducing the likely outcome of the boy’s seduction, she elicits a confession from the boy, convinces him to hand over to her objects connected with his

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planned escape from the monastery, and burns them. Her intervention, both practical and spiritual, demonstrates the care for others in her monastic community and a proactive energy and determination that must have made her an appropriate choice as a magistra (a superioress, or abbess of the cloister, a position second to that of abbot in a Benedictine double monastery). The devil, in whatever form, operates through the evil and upon the weak. At times, as in the second disguise he assumes to attack Elisabeth (Vis. 1.4), he seems almost, but not quite, human. Here, too, we may see an exaggeration of coarse human traits: the fiery-red face and darting tongue and the talon-like hands and feet of a predator, features that Elisabeth interprets as traditional medieval allegory. She reads the symbolic significance of the devil’s appearance and of the number of his manifestations. The seven times the devil appears to Elisabeth in this form correspond to the seven canonical hours (from Lauds to Compline).32 The next morning the devil stands by her bed (presumably in human form) threatening to knock her teeth out with a shoe he holds in his hand.33 His next appearance is bestial, suggesting terrifying sexuality: a large bull, his mouth distended wide over her, ready to swallow her whole. With no apparent theological or symbolic significance, the bell this devil-animal wears around his neck is the kind of detail that seems personal and real, not invented by anyone else or by Elisabeth herself to enhance her narrative. In Vis. 1.7, she sees the bull suspended on high before her eyes: pendentem (suspended, hanging) is the same word she uses when she speaks of Christ whom she contemplates while he dies on the cross and whose blood she sees dripping into the chalice (Vis. 1.45). By his coarse physicality and sexuality, exemplified by the bull who keeps returning to torment her until she commands him in God’s name not to take that shape any more, the devil tempts Elisabeth by turning the eye of her mind and heart away from Christ and toward carnal thoughts. The devil-sent dreams that disturb her seem to be sexual too, both in the context of Vis. 1.11 and in a later incident (Vis. 2.11), when her angel tells her that she is being kept from seeing the transformation of the host, as she usually does, because of dreams sent by the devil. In this series of trials the devil’s final manifestation is also the most pernicious. For the modern reader, the narrative in Vis. 1.8 is perhaps the most accessible because it can be read in realistic terms. Elisabeth tells this story vividly, with straightforward simplicity of style and precision of detail that suggest total recall. The rhythm of her sentences corresponds to the agitation with which she tries to escape the seductive young clerk34 who stalks her, following her from one place she thought safe to another and yet another, relentlessly. She may have told this story in German; in any case, German syntax makes its way into the Latin.35 Elisabeth’s fear is intensified because the shape of her hellish foe is fair: a delicatus clericus in a white (under)shirt, who distracts her with a lascivious gesture, compelling her gaze so that she cannot keep her mind’s eye from beholding him with the same intense concentration that she turns to the celestial visions she is

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granted. When she confronts him and commands him to stop, he changes his garb, dons religious vestments, and stands smiling at her. It is tempting to think that this is no devil but one of the worldlier members of her community. In Elisabeth’s moral universe, however, such a distinction would be useless. It is the devil who sets this snare for her, who tries to turn her away from good, from her vow of chastity and the commitment to dedicate all her thoughts to God.36 It is interesting to note that, in her divinely inspired visions, Elisabeth sees positive counterparts to diabolical manifestations. The first feature she notices about St. Benedict (Vis. 1.5) is that he is wearing a monk’s cowl (cuculla), just as the first little devil-apparition wears (Vis. 1.3). In this same vision, she sees a handsome young man with dazzling bright and curling hair, probably the angel who will become her special angel (angelus meus) later.37 The seductive clerk who pursues her on the following day is a diabolical, carnal version of the heavenly youth. Another heavenly vision, however, will transform the devil’s charade into the positive model it mimics: John the Baptist appears to her, like a glorious man dressed in white. He turns his alluring and very handsome (love-inspiring) face toward her, compelling her gaze, “as if he wanted to be looked at by me.” Through her persistent struggle against temptation, through her prayers and those of her brothers and sisters in the monastery, Elisabeth emerges from her trial with the ability to gaze even more intensely and with single purpose not at the devil’s snares but upon the divine. Such is her narrative, and it seems to me we can hear her own voice in it. Reading closely, we can understand how she shapes her life according to specific models and we can perceive the intricate patterns in the cloth she weaves from the multitude of threads she finds in the texts which she knows so intimately.

NOTES I am grateful to my colleagues Quentin Quesnell and William Oram for their advice and support. Whatever errors and infelicities remain are mine. The text of Elisabeth’s and Ekbert’s works is that of F. W. E. Roth, ed., Die Visionen der hl. Elisabeth und die Schriften der Aebte Ekbert und Emecho von Schönau (Brünn: Raigerner Benediktiner Buchdruckerei, 1884). References to the Visions are by book and chapter number; all other references are to Roth, page number. Biblical citations are from the Vulgate. Translations, unless otherwise noted, are mine. 1.

For an extensive discussion of Elisabeth and Ekbert, see Roth’s essay (VII–CVI). More recent and more readily accessible is the excellent, thorough, and very useful study, with extensive bibliography and notes, Anne L. Clark, Elisabeth of Schönau: A Twelfth-Century Visionary (Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press, 1992) (hereafter Clark). See esp. Clark, pp. 11–27; 50–67.

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4. 5.

6.

On the question of “autobiography” in medieval first-person narrative and the construction of individuality, see note 13. For instance, when asked (in a vision preceded by almost intolerable suffering) if she would prefer to suffer torments and be rewarded by the visions she is granted, or to be free both of pain and of the concomitant joy, she responds: magis has passiones sustinere cupio quam vestra dulci consolatione privari (Vis. 2.9) [“I would rather endure the suffering than be deprived of your sweet consolation”]. The reward is worth the pain, without which it cannot be obtained. De Obitu Elisabeth, Ekbert’s account of Elisabeth’s last days and her death, composed as a letter to three kinswomen (Roth, p. 264). Like the early martyr Perpetua, Elisabeth prepares herself for the expected contest that will lead to the vision she expects when Christ’s birth is celebrated (preparabar ad laborem [“I was preparing myself for my travail”], Vis. 1.35). She goes on to say, post multos labores agonis mei tandem ad quietem extasis deveni (“After the many travails of my contest at last I reached the serenity of ecstasy”). Elsewhere she uses the phrase diu in agone laboravi (Vis. 1.31 [“I struggled in my contest for a long time”]) or links agon and passio as in Vis. 1.57: vidi in spiritu virum, cuius desideravi presentiam, a longe properantem ad spectandum agonem passionis mee . . . [“I saw in the spirit the man whose presence I desired hastening from afar to look upon the contest of my martyrdom”]. Here the “contest” of her suffering/martyrdom is implicitly likened to a spectacle, like the games and contests that took place in the arena. Perpetua, whose account of the events preceding her martyrdom is contained in the Passio SS. Perpetuae et Felicitatis, in Herbert Musurillo, ed. and trans., The Acts of the Christian Martyrs (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1972), pp. 106–31 (hereafter cited by chapter and section), sees herself in a vision as an athlete oiled before an agon, vanquishing an Egyptian by crushing him under her heel, and receiving from her celestial lanista (gladiator owner/trainer, a popular image for Christ in early Christianity) the palm of the victorious athlete/martyr (10.4–13). In a way very similar to how Elisabeth understands the devil to exist in other forms and shapes, Perpetua says (10.14) intellexi me non ad bestias sed contra diabolum esse pugnaturam (“I understood that I was going to be fighting not wild animals but the devil”). Clark, in her useful discussion of Elisabeth’s visionary experience (pp. 68–100), emphasizes her passivity (pp. 82–84). She does not point to the terminology of martyrdom or distinguish among the various kinds of terms Elisabeth uses to describe her state before receiving a vision. In Vis. 1.48, while the Lord’s Passion is being read, she feels a torment inexpressible in words, harder to bear than if all her flesh were being hacked into pieces: cepi agonizare . . . si universa caro mea per partes discerperetur . . . levius ferrem. This passage puts one in mind of the martyrological texts that were surely a staple of her spiritual diet. For a particularly vivid descriptive account of the tortures martyrs underwent, see a letter of Roger of Byland, “The Milk of Babes,” in Lawrence F. Braceland, trans., The Works of Gilbert of Hoyland, vol. 4, Treatises, Epistles and Sermons: With a Letter of Roger of Byland, The Milk of Babes, Cistercian Fathers Series 34 (Kalamazoo, Mich.: Cistercian Publications, 1981), pp. 120–22.

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7. Ekbert, De Obitu (Roth, p. 264). 8. Caroline Walker Bynum, “The Female Body and Religious Practice in the Later Middle Ages,” in Fragmentation and Redemption (New York: Zone Books, 1991), pp. 181–238; the quotation is from p. 184. On the religious significance given to illness or recurrent pain, see p. 223. 9. See note 12 to English translation below. 10. Even in the nineteenth century, her editor Roth (XCIII) speaks of the physical and spiritual rigors of her monastic life, suggesting that the strain and repression operate on her weak and overly suggestible “woman’s nature” (prone to hysteria); the result is “somnambulistic ecstasy” and a diseased nervous hypersensitivity. He is followed by the derivative F. M. Steele, who states: “Elisabeth’s raptures have a distinctly womanly character . . . the fantastic dreams, the half-dreams during the day, the ecstasy, the melancholy pains, the hysterical raptures as such are all womanly.” He goes on to assert that the naive simplicity of her statements attests to their genuine nature and precludes that her visionary accounts could be the work of a man. “St. Elisabeth of Schönau and Her Visions,” American Catholic Quarterly Review 36 (1911): 397. Wilhelm Oehl is even more blunt: “Elisabeth’s visionary life was very closely connected to serious pathological disturbances.” Deutsche Mystikerbriefe des Mittelalters 1100–1150 (Munich: Georg Müller, 1931), p. 114. He stresses the angry countenances the saints often turn toward her. He gives her credit, however, for a childlike purity and modesty, and for her simple—hence ultimately sound—piety. 11. See note 9 to the English translation below. 12. The account is repeated in Elisabeth’s first letter to Hildegard of Bingen, printed as Vis. 3.19 (Roth, p. 71). 13. On the importance of living one’s life as an imitation of the right exempla, see for instance Hugh of St. Victor, De institutione novitiorum 7, PL 176: cols. 932D–933C. Evelyn Birge Vitz argues convincingly that Abelard’s narrative relates the fall of a philosopher from a preeminent height, and that he stresses not the particular and individual but the way in which the particular is related to familiar exempla (“Type et individu dans ‘l’autobiographie’ médiévale: Étude d’Historia Calamitatum,” Poétique 21–24 [1975]: 426–45). See also Caroline Walker Bynum, “Did the Twelfth Century Discover the Individual?” in Jesus as Mother: Studies in the Spirituality of the High Middle Age (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1982), pp. 82–109 (hereafter Bynum, JM). Siegfried Ringler stresses that the first-person narrator is fundamentally a “Rollen-Ich,” the type of the exceptionally blessed, chosen person (“Rezeption mittelalterlichen Frauenmystik als wissenschaftliches Problem, dargestellt am Werk der Christine Ebner,” in Peter Dinzelbacher and Dieter R. Bauer, Frauenmystik im Mittelalter [Stuttgart: Schwabenverlag, 1984], p. 187). He also cautions that we must avoid anachronistically assuming that the life of a cloistered nun makes her feel repressed and barred from a life of secular self-actualization (196). Ursula Peters also cautions against trying to find “real” autobiographical detail as distinct from the hagiographical topoi that structure the narrative and give meaning to crucial moments in saints’ lives (Religiöse Erfahrung als literarisches Faktum: Zur Vorgeschichte und Genese frauenmys-

208

14. 15.

16. 17.

18. 19.

20. 21.

Thalia A. Pandiri tischer Texte des 13. und 14. Jahrhunderts [Tübingen: Max Niemeyer Verlag, 1988], pp. 190–91). See notes 1–8 to the Latin text below, and notes 2–3 to the English translation. Ekbert, in his prologue to Visions 1, says of the conversations (sermones) Elisabeth had with God’s angel, quosdam quidem ex toto proferebat latino sermone, quosdam autem omnino teutonica loquela, quosdam vero ex parte latine, ex parte verbis teutonice lingue pronuntiabat (Roth, p. 1 [“Some she would utter wholly in Latin, others wholly in the German vernacular, still others she related using both Latin and German words”]). Elisabeth’s practice of blending Latin and German is analogous to the speech habits found, for instance, among bilingual Hispanic speakers in the United States today. Of his method of transcription and translation, he says: Conscripsi omnia hec . . . ita quidem, ut ubi erant latina verba angeli immutata relinquerem, ubi vero teutonica erant, in latinum transferrem, prout expressius potui, nihil mea presumptione adiungens, nihil terreni commodi querens, testis mihi est deus, cui nuda et aperta sunt omnia (Roth, p. 1 [“I wrote down this account in such a way as to leave unchanged the Latin utterances of the angel. But where there were German words I translated them into Latin in the most straightforward way that I could, presuming to add nothing and seeking no earthly advantage. May God, to whom all things are bare and open to view, be my witness]”). See Clark, Elisabeth of Schönau, pp. 29 and 160, n. 6. Both Roth (esp. CIX–CX) and Kurt Köster, “Elisabeth von Schönau: Leben, Persönlichkeit und visionäres Werk,” in Schönauer Elisabeth Jubiläum 1965: Festschrift anlässlich des achthundertjährigen Todestages der heiligen Elisabeth von Schönau (Limburg: Pallottiner Druckerei, 1965), p. 28, have analyzed Ekbert’s style. See also Clark, pp. 63 and 169, n. 45. Clark, Elisabeth of Schönau, pp. 32–67. On her popularity, see Ruth J. Dean, “Elisabeth, Abbess of Schönau, and Roger of Ford,” Modern Philology 41 (1944): 209–20. Elisabeth’s works circulated widely and were translated into many medieval vernacular languages. Shortly after her death, Roger of Ford sent a manuscript (the first book of Visions and the revelation of Mary’s bodily assumption) to his abbot Baldwin, to be copied. He speaks of the popularity of her works on the Continent, and recommends that a second copy be made and sent to the community of religious women where his mother lived. In the thirteenth century, the Liber Viarum Dei was appointed to be read aloud during conventual meals (217). See also Kurt Köster, “Elisabeth von Schönau: Werk und Wirkung im Spiegel der mittelalterlichen handschriftlichen Textüberlieferung,” Archiv für mittelrheinische Kirchengeschichte (Speyer am Rhein: Jaegerschen Buchdruckerei, 1959), pp. 243–315. The vision of the assumption inspired a poem in English, and another in French: J. P. Strachey, ed., “Poem on the Assumption,” Cambridge Anglo-Norman Texts (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1924), pp. 13–26. Clark makes this suggestion, and she argues for Elisabeth’s fundamental originality and independence throughout her study. See Clark, Elisabeth of Schönau, pp. 29–31. One of Elisabeth’s addressees is the abbot Reinhard von Reinhausen (Roth, pp. 150–52). In a later letter to him,

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Ekbert (Roth, p. 318–319) stresses the unmediated divine origin of Elisabeth’s warnings. Ekbert (Roth, p. 1) says her visionary experience occurred non sine evidenti miraculo (“not without a patent miracle”). When she recovered from her ecstatic state, she would speak in Latin: verba quedam divinissima latino sermone proferebat, que neque per alium aliquando didicerat, neque per se ipsam adinvenire poterat, utpote inerudita et latine locutionis nullam vel minimam habens periciam (p. 2 [“She would utter in Latin some very divine words which she had never learned from anyone else, nor could she have discovered them by herself since she was not learned and had virtually no training in the Latin language.”]). Ekbert’s description of how she added apposite scriptural and liturgical passages to her divinely inspired Latin utterances (p. 2), which he adduces as further evidence of the miraculous origin of her words, in fact points to the nonmiraculous source of familiarity with Latin despite her lack of formal academic training. 22. Rudolphus Hanslik, ed., Benedicti Regula (Vienna: Hoelder-Pichler-Tempsky, 1960), CSEL 75. All references to the Rule are to this text, hereafter Rule. 23. Cassian speaks of so identifying with the emotions that inspired the psalms that we experience and anticipate the meaning of the text, becoming authors rather than just readers: . . . eundem namque recipientes cordis affectum, quo quisque decantatus vel conscriptus est psalmus, velut auctores eius facti praecedemus magis intellectum quam sequemur . . . . Michael Petschenig, ed., Iohannis Cassiani Conlationes 24 (Vienna: Gerold 1886), CSEL 13 (hereafter Cassian, Conf.). Conf. 10.11, p. 305. We should remember that Benedict particularly recommends the reading of Cassian in his Rule, and the Conferences and Institutes are surely well known to Elisabeth. (References to the Latin text of the Institutes are to the text edited by Michael Petschenig, Johannis Cassiani De Institutis Coenobiorum et De Octo Principalium Vitiorum Remediis Libri XII, De Incarnatione Domini Contra Nestorium Libri VII [Prague, Vienna, Leipzig: Tempsky, 1988], CSEL 17 [hereafter Cassian, Inst.]). I would like to quote the continuation of that passage in Conf. 10, in Colm Luibheid’s translation (John Cassian: Conferences [New York: Paulist Press, 1985] pp. 137–38), because it provides a key to the question of Elisabeth’s Latinity and her style. “The sacred words stir memories within us, memories of the daily attacks which we have endured and are enduring, the cost of our negligence or the profits or our zeal, the good things of providence and the deceits of the enemy, the slippery subtle tricks of memory, the blemishes of human frailty, the improvidence of ignorance. As we sing we are reminded of all this. We find all these sentiments expressed in the psalms. We see very clearly, as in a mirror, what is being said to us and we have a deeper understanding of it. Instructed by our own experiences we are not really learning through hearsay but have a feeling for these sentiments as things we have already seen. They are not like things confided to our capacity for remembrance but, rather, we bring them to birth in the depths of our hearts as if they were feelings naturally there and part of our being. We enter into their meaning not because of what we read but because of what we have experienced earlier.” This passage is crucial to our understanding of how Elisabeth uses the psalms, and how she draws on their language and imagery as a native tongue and as the appropriate vehicle to express her own feelings and experiences.

210 24.

25.

26.

27.

28.

29.

Thalia A. Pandiri For a recent discussion, based on the examination of manuscripts, see Clark, Elisabeth of Schönau, pp. 31–32, and her appendix on the transmission of Elisabeth’s works, pp. 137–45. In Vis. 1.67, for instance, she has the sisters bring wax tablets and write down what she has uttered. In Vis. 1.78, after she has been whipped by the angel and lost her ability to speak, she makes a sign to the superioress, to whom alone she has confided the hiding place of her little book (libellum) of visions, to fetch it from under Elisabeth’s bed. She further defines this little book as a part of the present volume and says that Ekbert “left” it with her. What we are to make of this is unclear: perhaps she had dictated some visions to Ekbert when he visited her, before he joined the monastery; perhaps they had begun to compile a text not only from her oral accounts to him but from the wax tablets or other manuscripts kept by the nuns. Even after Ekbert joins the monastery, Elisabeth still sometimes dictates to others, and in Vis. 3.8 she says she was sitting with a sister who wrote down a dictated vision. There is no evidence that Elisabeth herself had written the book she showed to Ekbert, although Köster (note 17 above, pp. 24–25, cited by Clark, p. 167, n. 11) thinks she did. I agree with Clark (p. 53) that the text does not lend much support to his view. Köster (note 17 above), p. 27 sees the concern with Mary’s bodily resurrection as Ekbert’s more than Elisabeth’s. On the importance attached to resurrection in the body, see the study by Caroline Walker Bynum, The Resurrection of the Body in Western Christianity, 200–1336 (New York: Columbia University Press, 1995). Gertrud Jaron Lewis, “Christus als Frau, Eine Vision Elisabeths von Schönau,” Jahrbuch für Internationale Germanistik 15 (1983): 70–80, suggests a question from Ekbert prompted the vision and points to the interpretation of the vision that makes it more orthodox. On the feminine imagery associated with Christ’s humanitas, see Bynum JM, pp. 110–62, and her essay “‘And Woman His Humanity’: Female Imagery in the Religious Writing of the Later Middle Ages,” in Fragmentation and Redemption (note pp. 8 above), 151–80. Elisabeth identifies with Christ and with the prophets: her angel addresses her as “son of man,” fili hominis, and tells her to act with manly courage, viriliter age, showing a certain freedom in the way she sees gender. Unlike Perpetua, she does not explicitly visualize herself as a man in her vision. (Perpetua, 10.4, sees herself as a male athlete: et facta sum masculus.) For eucharistic devotion, sometimes obsessive, see Bynum JM, pp. 170–262, and her groundbreaking study of eucharistic piety, Holy Feast and Holy Fast (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1987); see also her essay “Women Mystics and Eucharistic Devotion in the Thirteenth Century,” Fragmentation and Redemption (note 8 above), pp. 119–50. For Elisabeth’s eucharistic visions and how they make her less dependent on the clergy, although she never stresses that point, see note 10 to the English translation below. Bernard, in his elaboration on Benedict, gives a cruelly vivid and detailed description of the monk who can neither keep away from dirty jokes nor stop himself from inappropriate snorts of laughter, which explode out of his nose while he is attempting to contain laughter by compressing his lips, clenching his teeth, and blocking his mouth with his fists. On the Steps of Humility, bilingual

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30.

31.

32.

33. 34.

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text by George Bosworth Burch (Cambridge, Mass.: Harvard University Press, 1940); this kind of laughter exemplifies the third step of pride, inopta laetitia, chap. 12. For a lively description of what seems to the modern reader innocent frivolity, and a stern warning, see John Tauler, “Sermon for the Fourth Sunday after Epiphany,” The Sermons and Conferences of John Tauler, trans. Walter Elliott (Washington, D.C.: Apostolic Mission House, 1910); pp. 137–43. This is a fourteenth-century text, but not much seems to have changed since Bernard’s or Benedict’s times. See Bernard, Sermon 33.9 (On the Song of Songs, PL 184, col. 955), on the tricks of the devil, spirits whose work is seduction and who lie in ambush (Psalm 9:29) and shoot their arrows “in the dark at the righteous.” The devil can take on many disguises, including the form of a familiar person, as we are reminded by a story told by Eadmer in his biography of St. Anselm. Cadulus, a knight spending the night in prayer, is attacked by the devil who tries (in vain) to distract him by shouting, in the voice of Cadulus’s squire, that robbers have made off with his horses and goods. When the knight refuses to budge, the devil takes the form of a bear and crashes through the church roof, landing in front of (the still imperturbable) praying knight. Subsequently, the devil tries (again in vain) to dissuade him from going to Anselm and becoming a monk: again he has a human voice. R. W. Southern, ed. and trans., The Life of St. Anselm by Eadmer (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1979), pp. 41–42. Interesting here is that there is no sense of difference between what we might consider nonsupernatural manifestations of distraction or doubt and the fantastic transformation of the devil into a bear. The devil, in whatever form, reveals himself by the singleness of his purpose: to distract Cadulus from prayer and turn him away from God. See also note 13 to the English translation below. The narrative appears only in ms F. Roth considers it authentic (text in Roth, IV–V of the notes to p. 28 of the first book of Visions) and assumes it was suppressed to avoid attaching scandal to the monastery. Likewise, Benedict (in Rule 16), in explaining the number of offices of the day, refers to the sacred number seven in Psalm 118:164: “Seven times have I given praise to thee.” He goes on to explain that the eighth night office of matins corresponds to verse 62 of the same psalm, “at midnight I rose to give praise to thee.” Elisabeth groups together the seven appearances of the devil as a man-beast. In an eighth instance he appears to her as a dog. Cf. the positive analogue to this morning bedside visitor, the angel in Vis. 1.72. See note 17 to the Latin text below. There is a wide range of people who might wear clerical garb and who might be found in a monastery, without being monks. As we learn from his Monodiae or “Memoirs,” Guibert of Nogent (1064?–ca.1125), who was an oblate, wore clerical clothes even before entering the monastery, and he wore them even when engaged in wanton and rowdy activities (I.15 in the Latin text, ed. Georges Bourgin [Paris, 1907]; John F. Benton, Self and Society in Medieval France: The Memoirs of Abbot Guibert of Nogent [New York: Harper Torchbooks, 1970], p. 77). Guibert entered the monastery at thirteen, as a clericus, not a monk. See also John F. Benton, “The Personality of Guibert of Nogent,” The Psychiatric Review 57 (1970): 564–86.

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35. 36.

See note 18 to the Latin text below. Like medieval people, the ancient Greeks saw no contradiction between a rationalist, “human” explanation of causality and their belief in supernatural agency. For the fifth-century B.C.E. historian Herodotus, the madness of a Spartan king can be attributed to alcoholism acquired, along with other bad habits, in a barbarian land and at the same time to divine wrath. The actions of characters on the Greek tragic stage are similarly seen, with a kind of double vision, as both humanly and divinely motivated. Supernatural forces work on and through human beings, who nonetheless choose and are responsible for their own actions. 37. See note 9 to the English translation below.

FROM LIBER VISIONUM PRIMUS (II.) Factum est in die sancto Pentecosten, convenientibus ad dominicam cenam sororibus, ego occasione quadam detenta sum, ut divini illius ac vivifici sacramenti particeps non fierem. Unde illius diei solempnitas non me, ut solebat, exhilaravit sed in quadam obscuritate animi1 tota die permanebam. Postera etiam die, et tota illa ebdomada, in eadem obscuritate tristis incedebam, nec potui ab animo excutere tristiciam.2 Ascendebant in cor meum plus solito omnia delicta mea, et magnificabam singula apud me, et ita mihimet ipsi dolores accumulavi.3 Crescente igitur paulatim apud me hac non bona tristicia,4 adeo mente obscurata sum, 1

As so often, Elisabeth uses the language of the Bible to express her own thoughts. A number of biblical passages are relevant here: e.g., Job 3:5, obscurent eum tenebrae et umbra mortis; 1:21, obscuratum est insipiens cor eorum; Ephesians 4:18, tenebris obscuratum habentes intellectum. 2 Tristitia is closely connected to taedium, the usual Latin translation of Greek acedia, from the time of John Cassian. For a thorough discussion of the history and development of acedia and related concepts, see Siegfried Wenzel, The Sin of Sloth: “Acedia” in Medieval Thought and Literature (Chapel Hill: University of North Carolina Press, 1967). Of the many references to tristis and tristitia in the Bible, the most apposite seem Sirach 30:25, multos enim occidit tristitia et non est utilitas in illa; 38:21, non dederis in tristitia cor tuum sed repelle eam a te; and especially 4 Ezra 10:24, tu ergo excute tuam multam tristitiam; Psalm 41:6, quare tristis es anima mea et quare conturbas me; Ps 42:2, quare tristis incedo dum adfligit me inimicus. The closest parallel is Psalm 37:7, tota die contristatus ingrediebar. Again, in the Visiones Elisabeth does not quote scripture so much as use the concepts, images, and vocabulary she hears and recites all day long. 3 Elisabeth may be thinking here of Psalm 37:5, . . . iniquitates meae supergressae sunt caput meum, since the psalm is echoed in the preceding sentence. Cf. also Sirach 23:3, et multiplicentur delicta mea et peccata mea abundent; Luke 24:38, Quid cogitationes ascendunt in corda vestra? 4 Elisabeth seems to equate her tristitia with the detestabile genus, quod . . . perniciosissimam desperationem animae inicit delinquenti: quod nec Cain fecit post fratricidium paenitere nec Iudam post proditionem ad satisfactionis remedia festinare, sed ad suspendium laquei sua disperatione perduxit (Inst. IX [“The loathsome variety [of sadness] which injects the soul of a wrongdoer with a most pernicious despair: the kind that neither caused Cain to repent after his fratricide nor made Judas hasten to make amends after his betrayal, but led him rather to suicide by hanging because of his despair.”]). Her reference to the “bad kind” of sadness that leads to suicide and despair makes sense given her own momentary temptation to commit suicide, although clearly in Elisabeth’s case the temptations of the devil only strengthen her faith and prepare her to receive God’s special gift.

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ut quocunque me verterem, in tenebris ambulare5 me estimarem, lucis comparatione, quam antea in me senseram. Inter hec tanto etiam tedio6 afficiebar, ut nihil esset, quod non fastidiret anima mea. Moleste mihi erant ipse orationes, que summe delicie mee esse consueverant. Psalterium, quod iocundum semper mihi fuerat, quandoque vix uno psalmo perlecto, longe a me proieci. Iterum recogitans ac mecum ammirans, quid mihi accidisset, resumpsi illud, legi, sed rursus mente concidi. Omnes enim vires suas effudit in me adversarius meus. Nam etiam in fide hesitare me fecit ille perfidus, ita ut de redemptore nostro dubie cogitarem, dicens intra me: Quisnam ille fuit, qui tantum se humiliavit propter homines? Nunquid vera esse potuerunt omnia, que scripta sunt de illo? Verti me alio et dixi: Bonus tamen erat ille, quisquis fuit, de quo tot bona predicantur. De beata advocata nostra similiter dubie cogitabam, cum eius memoriam agerent sorores. Et quid mirum frater? Pene omnis sensus meus subversus7 erat in me. Aliquociens autem ad me ipsam rediens, temptari me intellexi, ac fortiter reluctabar, meosque familiares, ut pro me orarent ammonui, sed tanto fortius insistebat adversarius meus, ita me perturbans, ut etiam tederet me vivere.8 Cibum et potum pre tedio sumere non potui nisi tenuissime, et ibam deficiens et tabescens toto corpore. Novissime autem id michi inspiravit ille perfidus, ut vite mee ipsa finem

5

Cf. 1 John 1:6, et in tenebris ambulamus; 2:11, in tenebris est et in tenebris ambulat et nescit quo eat; Isaiah 50:10, qui ambulavit in tenebris . . . . In Job, in a large number of the psalms, and in the New Testament as well, tenebrae are linked with umbra mortis. Caligo also occurs in this same context, for instance, Isaiah 5:30, et ecce tenebrae tribulationis et lux obtenebrata est in caligine eius. To anyone who knows the text of the Bible as intimately as Elisabeth does, the negative statements evoke both how God will dispel darkness with light for those who invoke him with faith and the promise of salvation: for instance, Psalm 17:29, Deus meus inluminas tenebras meas; 1 Peter 2:9, qui de tenebris vos vocavit in admirabile lumen suum. Throughout this section, Psalm 54:3–7 can be heard like a distant and familiar melody and it gives the simple text before us a richness and depth accessible to any ear trained like Elisabeth’s: Contristatus sum in exercitatione mea: Et conturbatus sum a voce inimici. . . . cor meum conturbatum est in me, et formido mortis cecidit super me. Timor et tremor venerunt super me, et contexerunt me tenebrae. Et dixi: Quis dabit mihi pennas sicut columbae, et volabo, et requiescam? In addition to scriptural passages, Elisabeth also has many other texts in her head, such as the Conferences and Institutes of Cassian, texts St. Benedict urges monks to read; they were also regularly read aloud in the community on a variety of occasions, including conventual meals. In Cassian’s discussion of taedium (Inst.X.3), the afflicted monk exhibits physical restlessness coupled with sloth when faced with any spiritual task and is filled with quadam inrationabili mentis confusione velut taetra . . . caligine. It seems that Elisabeth knows well the symptoms of taedium and is presenting an unmistakable diagnosis. 6 Cassian, Inst. X.1, . . . Graeci akedian vocant, quam nos taedium sive anxietatem cordis possumus nuncupare. adfinis haec tristitiae. . . .Cf. also Psalm 118:28, dormitavit anima mea prae taedio/confirma me in verbis tuis. . . . 7 Cf. Sirach 12:15, et in corde suo insidiatur ut subvertat te in foveam; Lamentations 1:20, subversum est cor meum in memet ipsa. 8 Cf. Genesis 27:46, taedet me vitae meae; Job 9:21, et taedebit me vitae meae; 10:1, taedet animam meam vitae meae (read during the Office of the Dead); Ecclesiastes 2:17, et idcirco taeduit me vitae meae; 2 Corinthians 1:8, ita ut taederet nos etiam vivere.

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imponerem, atque ita erumnas meas, quas diu sustinueram, terminarem. Sed in hac temptatione pessima non dormitavit super me, qui custodit Israhel.9 Non enim permisit, ut dominaretur michi inquitas hec maxima, sed dedit michi intelligere maliciam insidiatoris10 mei, et subito me avertit a cogitatione hac. Quam copiosus es in misericordia domine, qui de tantis periculis eruis confidentes in te. Confiteor tibi pater, quia nisi tu adiuvisses me, paulominus habitasset in inferno anima mea.11 (III.) Et hec quidem ita se habebant circa me usque ad festum beati Maximini, quod est quarto kalendas Junii. Illo die ad completorium vidi in capella nostra fantasma parvulum, quasi cuculla monachi indutum. Statim autem dicto completorio irruit super me gravissima infirmitas, et rogavi magistram, ut assumptis sororibus veniret mecum in capitolium ibique orationes funderent super me. Cunque ibi prosternere me vellem ante crucifixum, ita diriguerunt ossa mea, ut nullatenus genua flectere potuissem. Ego itaque mihi ipsi vim faciens, graviter me proieci ad terram, et iacebam miserabiliter tremens et palpitans capite et pedibus, omnisbusque membris. Cunque surrexissem ab oratione, allatum est evangelium, et legere me fecerunt passionem domini, et adiuvabant me, quoniam inbecillis eram ad legendum. Dum autem legeremus, apparuit mihi idem fantasma, ut prius, et legentibus nobis locum illum, ubi dicit evangelista: Intravit autem Sathanas in Judam qui cognominatur Scarioth,12 cepit exultare et risum movere. Dicebam autem sororibus, ut pessimum illum abigerent, et mirabantur, de quo loquerer eis. Perlecto autem evangelio evanuit. (IV.) Post hec in matutinis stabat coram me, in humana effigie, statura brevis, et spissus, et horribilis aspectu, facies eius ignea, lingua flammea, et longe ab ore eiecta, manus eius et pedes similes unguibus avium rapacissimarum. In hac specie species illo die michi apparuit, et semel in specie canis teterrimi. Sequenti die mane astitit lecto meo, et cum suo quodam iuramento minatus est mihi, quod in dentes me percussurus esset calceo, quem in manu tenere videbatur. Post hec paulo ante missam iterum se michi obtulit in specie tauri magni et horrendi, dilatans super me os suum13 quasi ad deglutiendum me, et cymbalum in collo gestare videbatur. 9 The closest correspondence is to Psalm 120:3–5, Neque dormitet qui custodit te. Ecce non dormitabit neque dormiet qui custodit Israel. Dominus custodit te. . . . Elisabeth, as usual, has aural recall of the psalm and molds its language to express her visionary experience. 10 Satan as the arch-ambusher first appears in Genesis 3:15, et tu insidiaberis calcaneo eius. 11 Once again, echoes from a number of biblical passages form a new text resonant with “thick meaning.” Psalm 29:4, Domine eduxisti ab inferno animam meam; 85:13, et eruisti animam meam ex inferno inferiori; 85:12, confitebor tibi Domine Deus in toto corde meo; cf. 106:8; 117:21 to glance at only a few passages; Psalm 93:17, paulo minus habitasset in inferno anima mea. 12 John 13:27. 13 Elisabeth’s fear seems palpable and the odd detail of the bell suggests her unique experiences. Even so, her language here echoes Psalm 34:20–21, dolos cogitabant et dilataverunt super me os suum.

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(V.) Deinde cum inchoaretur missa de beata virgine domina nostra, sabbatum enim erat, collapsa sum in extasim, et apertum est cor meum, et vidi super aërem istum rotam magni luminis similem lune plene, sed quasi duplo maiorem. Et introspexi per medium rote, ac vidi similitudinem regalis femine, stantem in sublimi quasi candidissimis indutam vestimentis, ac purpureo amictu circundatam. Continuo intellexi, hanc esse sublimem celi reginam, matrem salvatoris nostri, cuius semper desideravi aspectum. Cunque intenderem in eam cum desiderio, procidit in faciem suam ter adorans coram divino quodam lumine, quod erat ante illam. Quarta autem vice, cum se humiliasset, longam moram in iacendo facere visa est. Ut autem surrexit, convertit ad me faciem, et modicum progressa est in inferiorem aërem contra me, habens duos comites gloriosos, unum a dextris, et unum a sinistris. Qui a dextris erat, cuculla monachi indutus esse videbatur, candidissima tamen, et baculum monastici patris manu gestare visus est. Unde menti mee incidit, hunc esse venerabilem patrem nostrum beatum Benedictum. Qui autem a sinistris erat, iuvenis decorus videbatur, candida et crispanti coma spectabilis. Stans autem domina mea signo crucis me consignavit et hec verba menti mee nescio qualiter inseruit: Ne timueris, quia nihil tibi ista nocebunt. Vocis quidem sonitum non audivi, sed tantummodo labiorum eius motum distincte aspexi. (VI.) Post hec regressa est ad interiora luminis sui, et ego devotissime adorans sequebar eam laudibus tredecim versiculorum, quos in consuetudine habeo. Et his dictis, ab extasi reversa sum, et continuo refeci spiritum meum hostia salutari. Tunc rogavi sacerdotem, ut invocaret nomen domini super me. Qui cum inchoaret letaniam, rursum in extasim veni. Iterum autem vidi dominam meam stantem secus altare in veste, qualis est casula sacerdotalis,14 et habebat in capite diadema gloriosum, quasi quatuor gemmis preciosis insignitum, eratque ei circumscripta angelica illa salutatio: Ave Maria gratia plena dominus tecum.15 (VII.) — Eodem die ad vesperam rursum vidi malignum illum in specie tauri, pendentem16 coram me in aëre. Et paulo post respexi consolatricem meam in celesti lumine, ut prius, munientem me crucis signaculo. Postera die, que erat dominica, iterum se mihi presentavit insidiator meus in specie tauri, ut prius. Tunc quia nimis vexaverat me horrenda visio illa, dixi ei confidenter: Si vere tu es

14

That the vision of Mary wearing a priest’s chasuble surprises Elisabeth is suggested by qualis est; she speaks as if groping for an interpretation of what she clearly sees but does not expect. Mary mediates not only between human beings and God but also between the nuns who are prohibited from serving at the altar and touching the body of Christ and the priests whose exclusive privilege it is to stand where Mary stands in this vision. See note 10 to the English translation. 15 Luke 1:28. 16 Elisabeth also uses pendentem of Christ on the cross (Vis. 1.45). The devil tempts her to sin by distracting her from what she should contemplate and by substituting a foul parody in its place.

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ille malignus, precipio tibi in nomine domini, ut cito transfigures te, et in hac specie ultra mihi non appareas. Continuo disparuit, et respexi vallem quandam horribilem plenam fumo et flamma nigra, et exibat inde grex caprarum turpissimus. Die illa ad vesperam lux magna in celo michi apparuit, et de medio eius columba miro candore et quasi flammeo splendore venusta elapsa est, nescio quid rubeum in ore demonstrans. Et ut subito gyrum fecit in aëre, iterum se recepit in lucem. Ego autem cum veneratione eam prosequens, orationes de spiritu sancto dicebam, quoniam in specie columbe eum apparuisse audieram. Post hec ad completorium, cum starem ante crucem ac devotissime eam salutarem, ostensa est mihi in celo crux magna aurei fulgoris ita splendida, ut etiam reverberaret oculos cordis mei, quibus eam intuebar. (VIII.) Die altera mane cum starem sola in capitolio et orarem, iterum se mihi obtulit adversarius meus, stans coram me in specie delicati clerici, quasi indutus camisia candida.17 Et expavi quidem, sed tamen in oratione perseverans, nichil segnius egi, quo magis eum confunderem. Expleta autem oratione, ascendi in dormitorium, et illuc me subsecutus est. Discessi inde in capellam, et veni stare18 inter duas sorores orantes. Illuc etiam me subsecutus est, et stabat coram me, in turpi quodam gestu illudens mihi, nec potui avertere ab eo mentis oculum, quo eum intuebar.19 Tunc nequitiam20 eius ultra non ferens, dixi ei audacter: Precipio tibi in nomine patris et filii et spiritus sancti, ut cito ab huiusmodi gestu cesses, et talem nequitiam mihi ultra non ostendas. Con17

Delicatus suggests that this dainty clerk (most probably not a monk, but someone who has attained only the lower Orders is concerned with wordly things and is a ladies’ man. The camisia he wears could be an alb, but Elisabeth never uses the term to mean that; furthermore, the lay meaning would be a linen shirt, or indeed even an undershirt. The ensuing passage and his change of garb suggest that he is provocatively and scantily clad here. 18 Veni stare (I came to stand), like exivi sedere below (I went out to sit) corresponds to vernacular, colloquial syntax and suggests that Ekbert had no hand in polishing Elisabeth’s style here. 19 Elisabeth’s choice of intuebar makes clear the intensity with which her gaze is glued, against her will, to the lewd gesture or posturing of this diabolical apparition. She has used the same term at the end of the preceding chapter to describe how she gazed at the divinely granted vision of a dazzlingly radiant golden cross. She uses the same word again in Visions 1.35 to describe the rapt gaze with which she looks intensely all night long at a divinely revealed bright light. 20 Both in classical and later Latin, nequitia can denote vice, profligacy, depravity, and wickedness when it is used in a nonerotic context. In ecclesiastical Latin it often occurs in the plural (nequitiae) coupled with the adjective spirituales and linked to man’s adversary Satan. In Roman comedy, love poetry, and satire, however, nequitia has sexual connotations and can be used playfully. It is popular with Ovid both in his love lyrics (Amores) and his Ars Amatoria (The Lover’s Art). As “lechery” or “wantonness” it is linked to wine, parties, and burning lust (Amores 3.1.17). It can suggest erotic obsession (3.1.37) or just mean “love affair” (1.13.32) or an erotic rendezvous (Ars Amatoria 2.392). The satirist Juvenal couples the adjective nequam (wanton) with blanda (cajoling) to describe a voice that “has fingers” to excite a man’s private parts (Sat. 6.196–197).

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tinuo habitum priorem dimisit, et stabat reverenter quasi indutus veste religiosa. Deinde exivi sedere in conventum sororum, et illuc me insecutus est, et stans arrisit mihi. Cum ergo tunc disparuisset, ultra mihi non apparuit. Deinde, cum audita missa comunicassem, et ad prandium accessissem, pre nimia vexatione vix cibum attigi. Post prandium autem subito elangui,21 nec remansit in me quicquam virium, et ita coartabar undique, ut nullum membrorum meorum esset absque passione.22 Tunc astantibus circa sororibus vix linguam movi, ut significarem eis, quod allatis reliquiis dicerent super me passionem domini et orationes. Dum autem orarent, sensi guttur meum quasi manu cuiuspiam fortiter stringi, ita ut pene halitus meus intercluderetur. Cum ergo transisset hora illa, de cetero maiorem pacem habui a temptatore meo per gratiam domini, qui novit suos de temptatione eripere. Quod, ut arbitror ita impetratum est a domino. (IX.) Convenerunt sorores ac domini fratres videntes angustias anime mee, ac decreverunt, ut septem continuis diebus communes preces funderent, et se affligerent coram domino pro me, ac singulis diebus singulas missas pro angustiis meis celebrarent. Cunque inter septem missas una de spiritu sancto in quinta feria esset decantanda, cum magno desiderio diem illum expectabam, sperans aliquid consolationis tunc me recepturam. Venit desiderata dies, et fratribus divina celebrantibus, iacebam in oratione cum sororibus. Et dilatatum est cor meum, et vidi lucem grandem in celo, et ecce columba magne pulchritudinis, qualem et antea videram de luce egrediens, pervenit usque ad me. Et ut tribus vicibus se capiti meo expansis alis circumtulit, mox ad superna convolavit. (X.) Post hec in sexta feria, cum diceretur missa de cruce et iacerem prostrata, gloriosum crucis signum in celo michi ostensum est, quasi a sinistris divine maiestatis. (XI.) In sabbato autem cum celebraretur officium de gloriosa virgine, vidi iterum illam in superna claritate coram maiestate magna adorantem. Cumque ministri altaris laudes eius devote concinentes ad eum versiculum in sequentia: Ave preclara, processissent, qui est: Ora virgo nos illo pane celi dignos

21 Languor can indicate a physical illness and, similarly, the verb does not have to be metaphorical. Elisabeth, however, frequently uses both the verb and especially the noun to describe her state before going into ecstasy. The key text here is The Song of Songs that was extensively interpreted by many theologians, among them Bernard of Clairvaux and Gilbert of Hoyland, who continued Bernard’s work. Song of Songs 2:4 (quia amore langueo) is explained as languishing with love for Christ, whom the soul seeks and cannot find. Gilbert of Hoyland, Sermon 46.4 (PL 184, col. 244), contrasts the sluggishness of the flesh with the soul’s languor, which is caused by excess emotion when the soul is consumed by overabundant ardor. 22 The use of passio to describe her suffering ineluctably associates Elisabeth both with the early martyrs and with Christ. See note 5 to the introduction above.

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effici,23 procidit in faciem suam, totamque se in orationem prostravit, sicque permanebat, quousque evangelium inchoaretur. Ab illo die usque ad hec tempora singulis fere sabbatis, et quandoque aliis diebus, cum de ea officium celebraretur, eandem visionem videre consuevi. Eadem die post Nonam, cum starem in capitulo et amarissime flerem propter somnia quedam, in quibus animam meam valde molestaverat nequitia insidiatoris mei, rogabam dominam meam devotissime, ut si forte nociture mihi non essent ille molestie, aliquid mihi consolationis exhibere dignaretur. Et ecce subito lux illa celestis emicuit, et progressa est inde consolatrix mea. Et cum paululum descendisset, contra me stabat. Et ego intendens in eam, motum labiorum eius diligentur observabam, et cognovi, quod nominaret me nomine meo Elisabeth, et amplius non adiecit. Quod ego pro consolatione recipiens, gratias egi illi, et recessit a me. (XII.) Accidit quadam vice, cum frequenter se mihi offerret columba illa, de qua dixi, ut apud me ipsam dubitarem de illa, et quererem a domno abbate, utrum posset Sathanas transfigurare se in columbam. Qui cum negaret, se unquam hoc legisse, et ego dubia permanerem, aspexi quadam die crucem, quam videre soleo, et venit ex adverso columba eadem, et resedit in ea. Sic ergo certificata sum, non esse hoc Sathanam, quoniam inimicus crucis est. (XIII.) In vigilia beati Johannis Baptiste, dum divinum celebraretur officium, fui in oratione, ac dicebam quinquaginta psalmos, et alias quasdam orationes in laudem illius venerandi precursoris domini. Cumque orationes pene complevissem, subito lux magna refulsit in celo, et in medio eius quasi species viri gloriosi in vestitu candido apparuit, stans contra ortum solis. Et post pusillum convertit ad me faciem blandam24 et valde amabilem, quasi volens conspici a me. Habebat autem coronam aurei fulgoris in capite valde radiantem, et in parte anteriori quasi purpureo colore insignitam. In dextera eius tanti fulgoris palma apparuit, ut pre nimia eius claritate vix cetera, que iuxta erant, possem

23

Elisabeth cites the same verse in Vis. 2.14 where she refers not to a sequentia but to a modulamen, apparently a song for several voices, whether singing together or in alternation; the term is used frequently in describing the singing of psalms. (See the entry in Novum Glossarium Mediae Latinitatis 800–1200 [Hafniae: Ejnar Muksgaard, 1963], fascicle miles-mozytia compiled by Franz Blatt.) Although both the opening and the prayer she cites are familiar, this particular sequence or song does not occur in the twelfth-century manuscript purchased and edited by F. W. E. Roth, Das Gebetbuch der hl. Elisabeth von Schönau (Augsburg: Verlag des Literarischen Instituts von Dr. Max Huttler, 1886). Nor does it occur among Adam of St. Victor’s sequences (PL 196, cols. 1422–1534), which we know Ekbert used (see Roth XXVI, n. 1 to p. 312). I have thus far not been able to locate it in the Analecta Hymnica or in any collections of sequences I have consulted. 24 Blandam (cajoling, flattering, hence seductive, alluring) is an interesting choice. In his treatise on The Steps of Humility and Pride, when talking about curiosity, Bernard uses the adverb to describe the serpent’s slipping into your heart and sweet-talking you (blande alloquitur). Note also that John the Baptist appears to Elisabeth as an attractive and seductive man, a safe and licit counterpart of the diabolical clerk who tempts her in Vis. 1.8 above.

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discernere. Intellexi igitur, hunc esse gloriosum illum martirem, cui serviebamus. Post hec in matutinis, cum diceremus: Te deum laudamus, eodem modo mihi apparuit, et reclinans me ad parietem, vix ab extasi me continui. Cumque iterum disparuisset, lux illa, in qua eum videram, subito in duas partes scindi visa est, et emicuit quasi fulgur omnino intolerabile mihi ad videndum, et dixi: Sufficit mihi domine gratia tua, parce infirmitati mee,25 et relaxa michi claritatem hanc nimiam, quia sustinere eam non valeo. Continuo sublata est, et loco eius stella clarissima apparuit. Rursus in die, tempore divini sacrificii, vir dei similiter mihi apparuit. TRANSLATIONS BY THALIA PANDIRI II. On Whitsunday,1 when the sisters were coming together for the sacramental meal, I was detained for some reason so that I did not take part in the holy and life-giving sacrament. And so the celebration of this day did not uplift me, as it usually did, but I remained for the entire day in a sort of darkness of mind. Even on the next day, and for that entire week, I walked about sad and in that same darkness, nor could I dislodge the sadness from my spirit. More than usual, all my transgressions kept rising up in my heart and I kept magnifying each thing in my mind and I piled up woes for myself. This not-good sadness2 grew little by little in me until I fell into such darkness of mind that everywhere I turned, I seemed to myself to be walking in darkness, in comparison to the light that I had before perceived in myself. And at the same time I was even afflicted with such despairing weariness that there was nothing that did not nauseate my soul. The very prayers that had usually most delighted me now vexed me. The psalter had always been a source of joy to me, yet now, having barely read through a single psalm, I hurled it far away from me. When I realized what I had done, I picked it up again, astonished at what had happened to me, and I read, but again my spirit was defeated by

25 Typically, Elisabeth draws on a text but does not copy it mechanically. In 2 Corinthians 12:9, Paul quotes God’s words to him: Sufficit tibi gratia mea; nam virtus in infirmitate perficitur. Elisabeth’s echo of this Pauline passage recalls Paul’s insistence on his own humility and weakness, his allusions to the divine gift of revelation he has already been granted, and the promised reward of salvation in Christ. Implicitly associating herself with Paul permits Elisabeth to suggest that she shares with the apostle not only the awareness of human weakness and humility but also the election that has made her God’s chosen vessel. Her familiarity with biblical references, shared by her contemporaries, makes it possible for her to call attention to the gift God has bestowed on her and to claim a place among the elect without making an explicit statement or committing the sin of pride. 1 18 May 1152. 2 Elisabeth’s non bona tristicia is a clumsy phrase in Latin as well. She seems to distinguish between a fruitful sadness, such as the grief felt when one contemplates the suffering of Christ, and the suicidal depression she was feeling.

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weakness.3 For my adversary had poured out all his strength against me. That perfidious foe even made me stumble in my faith so that I doubted our Savior and said to myself: “Who then was he, who humbled himself so for the sake of mankind? How could all those things be true that are written about him?” My thoughts then took another turn, and I said, “All the same, he was a good person, whoever he was, since so many good things are preached about him.” And about our blessed advocate I expressed similar doubts to myself, when the sisters commemorated her in their prayers.4 and what is amazing about this, brother?5 Almost all my senses had been subverted in me. On occasion, when I was myself again, I understood I was being tempted and I fought back hard. I counseled those near me to pray for me, but then my adversary pressed me all the harder, so that I even grew tired of living. On account of this weariness of living, I was unable to eat or drink except the tiniest amounts and I went about faint, my whole body wasting away. Finally, that perfidious one inspired in me a desire to put an end to my own life and thus end my suffering. But during this terrible temptation, He who watcheth over Israel slumbered not over me. For He did not permit this enormous wickedness to subjugate me but gave me to understand the malice of the foe plotting against me, and at once turned me away from this thought. How abundant is your mercy, Lord, who pluck out from such great dangers those who trust in you. Had you not come to my aid, Father, I confess to you that my soul would have dwelt in hell—so close did I come. 3

The spiritual darkness, boredom, or weariness leading to suicidal despair corresponds to a pattern of affliction that attacks those who have been striving for spiritual purity. Since it is clear from the text that Elisabeth has been living a life of prayer and spiritual self-examination, she falls into the category of those whose darkness will be dispelled by divine light if they have faith. Both the state and the symptoms of taedium are familiar. John Cassian (Institutes 10.2) describes the symptoms, including unwillingness to read. Gilbert of Hoyland, Sermon 38.5 On the Song of Songs, speaks of the “north wind,” the winter of the soul in Christ’s absence, which brings anxiety, boredom, and disdain for what previously brought joy. He goes on to say (Serm. 38.6) that self-disgust can lead to good, since God provides a way out (1 Corinthians 10:13). For a later discussion in the same tradition, see Sermon for the Second Sunday after Easter: “The Winter of the Soul,” by Johannes Tauler (pp. 271–76, see note 29 to introduction above). Although this is a later text, it shows the consistency in the model of how spiritual coldness afflicts the God-fearing and how the description of the symptoms remains unchanged in sermons aimed at an audience of nuns. 4 Elisabeth is tempted to heresy by inappropriate and restless curiosity. Curiosity about what is not one’s proper concern is connected to the sin of pride by Benedict (On the Steps of Humility and Pride) and elaborated on by Bernard in his treatise on the same topic (see note 29 to introduction, above). In his chapter on the first step of pride, curiositas (10.28), Bernard speaks of the restlessness that turns one’s attention from focusing on the inner self and contemplating God; he connects intellectual overreaching with Eve and the tree of knowledge. Richard of St. Victor (PL 196, col. 387), writing on Psalm 90, speaks of the seven kinds of temptation, among them the kind that wraps the mind in a cloud of ambiguity and indecisiveness, leaving one bereft of judgment. This mental state is linked to carnal sin. 5 Ekbert, to whom she is recounting her experience.

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III. And this is the way things were with me up to the feast day of St. Maximinius.6 On that day after compline, I saw in our chapel a little apparition, wearing a monk’s cowl. Suddenly, when the service was over, a devastating weakness rushed over me and I asked the cloister mistress to gather together the sisters and come with me to the chapter house to pray over me there. But when I wished to bow down and adore the cross, my bones stiffened so that I could not at all bend my knees. And so, doing violence to myself, I threw myself to the ground; I landed heavily and lay there, trembling wretchedly, with my head and feet and all my limbs convulsing.7 When I got up from prayer, the sisters brought me the gospel and had me read the Lord’s passion. Since I was too weak to read, they helped me. But while we were reading, the same apparition as before stood before me and as we read the passage in which the evangelist says, Satan entered into Judas, called Iscariot, he began to jump up and down and make me want to laugh.8 I kept telling the sisters to drive out that vilest of creatures, but they wondered whom I meant. Finally, when the scriptural reading was over, he vanished. IV. After this, during matins, he stood before me in human form: short, stocky, with a hideous, fiery face, his tongue a flame darting far out of his mouth, his hands and feet like the talons of the most savage birds of prey. In this form he appeared to me seven times on that same day, and once in the form of a most repulsive dog. On the following morning he stood by my bed and threatened me with a curse, saying he would strike me in the teeth with a shoe he appeared to be holding in his hand. Afterward, shortly before the mass, he again showed himself to me in the guise of a large and terrifying bull, his mouth gaping over me as if to devour me; around his neck, he seemed to be wearing a bell. V. Then, when the mass for our Lady, the Blessed Virgin, was beginning— for it was Saturday—I fell into ecstasy and my heart was opened and I saw above

6

29 May 1152. See also p. 368, of the introduction and note 10. Elisabeth’s symptoms, here and elsewhere, can be interpreted in terms of psychopathology, for instance as the kind of “hysterical fit” described by Pierre Janet, The Major Symptoms of Hysteria, 2d ed. (New York: MacMillan 1929), p. 100. But disregarding the differences in stimuli, in the perceptions of the afflicted, and in the response of her community and the context of her world arbitrarily imposes a different “narrative,” and one not more objective. Modern critics sometimes assume that the arbitrary narratological frameworks with which they are familiar are “transparent,” and so more legitimate. Yet psychoanalytic discourse, for example, is also based on what the ancient Greeks called a muthos, no more valid than the scriptural muthos that gives rise to Elisabeth’s narrative. For an interesting discussion of psychoanalysis as “an interpretive discipline whose practitioners aim to develop a particular kind of systematic account of human action,” see Roy Schafer, “Narration in the Psychoanalytic Dialogue,” Critical Inquiry 7 (1980): 29–53. The quotation is from p. 29. 8 On the seriousness of this temptation, see the discussion in the introduction and n. 29. 7

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our air a wheel of great light like a full moon, but almost twice as large. And I looked in through the center of the wheel and saw the likeness of a queen, standing on high; she appeared to be dressed in dazzling white garments and cloaked in a purple mantle. Immediately I understood that this was the sublime queen of heaven, the mother of our savior, whom I had always desired to see. And while I gazed at her with desire, she bowed down three times, worshipping before that divine light. But after she had humbled herself for the fourth time, she appeared to wait for a long time before rising. And when she stood up, she turned her face toward me and advanced a little into the lower region of the air, toward me; with her were two glorious companions, one on either side. The one on her right appeared to be wearing a monk’s cowl, but wondrous white, and in his hand he held an abbot’s staff. And so it came into my mind that this was our venerable father, the blessed Benedict. But he who was on her left was a comely youth, remarkable for his dazzling bright and curling hair.9 My Lady stopped and made the sign of the cross over me and in some way, I don’t know how, inserted these words into my mind: “Do not be afraid, for these things will do you no harm at all.” Indeed, I heard no sound of a voice, but I only saw distinctly the motion of her lips. VI. She then returned inside her light and I followed her with praises, worshipping with the utmost devotion and reciting the same thirteen versicles I usually recite. And when I finished saying these, I came out of my ecstasy and immediately refreshed my spirit with the host that brings salvation. Then I asked the priest to invoke the name of the Lord over me. And when he began the litany,

9

This may be Elisabeth’s first glimpse of her guardian angel (angelus meus, Vis. 1.58) who guides, consoles, exhorts, and sometimes chastises her. He introduces himself to her as angelus domini bonus, the good angel who protected Jacob (Genesis 48:16). Elisabeth describes him as extremely attractive, a young man dressed in white: vidi quasi puerum amabilem valde indutum veste alba . . . He is the divine version of the lewd and seductive clerk the devil will send to stalk and tempt her in chapter eight below, and in several scenes (Vis. 2.4; 7.15) he transports her to a pleasant verdant and flowering spot where she receives visions. Vis. 2.15 particularly suggests a scene of dalliance, were this a secular context: “the angel of the Lord bore me up into another place of most charming pleasantness, and he placed me under a tree laden with the fairest flowers. And I said to him, ‘My lord, let us rest a little while in this spot.’ And he replied, ‘It is pleasing to me that you rest.’ Immediately I sat down on the grass, and I gathered up a handful of the flowers that lay strewn about me on all sides, and pressing them to me I breathed in their marvelously sweet fragrance.” Elsewhere (Vis. 1.58) she addresses him as “most sweet and loving youth” (O dulcissime et amantissime iuvenis). Their relationship is complicated: despite his youth and beauty, at times he acts as fatherly guide; at times he heals her instantaneously (for example, Vis. 1.57) or stands by her bed and consoles her (Vis. 1.72). But he also whips her in anger for concealing her visions, so violently that she is in acute pain for three days afterward. Furthermore she describes herself as “half dead” after the brutal beating and unable to utter a word (Vis. 1.78). Whatever the emotional dimensions of her descriptions, however, they lack the explicit eroticism that characterizes other mystics’ relationship with Christ. For discussion and bibliography, see Bynum, JM, pp. 170–262.

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I entered into ecstasy again. Again I saw my Lady standing beside the altar, wearing a vestment like a chasuble,10 and on her head she wore a glorious diadem adorned with four gems, and inscribed around it was the annunciation of the angel, Hail Mary full of grace, the Lord is with you. VII. At vespers, on the same day, again I saw the evil one in the form of a bull, suspended in the air before my eyes. And shortly afterward I saw my consoling Lady in heavenly light, as before, protecting me with the sign of the cross. On the following day, which was Sunday, once again the devil who was lying in ambush for me presented himself to me in the form of a bull, as before. Then, because that terrifying vision was extremely troubling to me, I said to him confidently: “If in truth you are the evil one, I command you in the name of the Lord to transform yourself quickly and not to show yourself to me in that shape any more.” Immediately, he vanished and I caught sight of a fearsome valley full of smoke and black flames from which there issued forth a flock of the most foul goats. On that same day, at vespers, I saw a great light in the heavens and a beautiful dove glided out of it, amazingly white and bright as fire; in its mouth I saw something red. And as soon as it had circled in the air, it went back into the light. And I followed after the dove with reverence, uttering prayers to the Holy Spirit, since I had heard that the Spirit had appeared in the form of a dove. Afterward, at compline, as I was standing before the cross and most devoutly adoring it, I saw a great cross of gleaming gold in the heavens, so resplendent that it dazzled the eyes of my heart with which I beheld it. VIII. On the next morning, as I stood alone in the chapter house praying, again my adversary came to me and stood before me in the guise of a dainty and seductive clerk and he seemed to be wearing a white shirt. I was terrified, but nonetheless I

10 See the introduction, p. 202 and note 28. Her vision of Mary as priest is related to the ways Elisabeth’s visionary gift allows her to bypass the priests who alone have the right to handle and administer the Eucharist. Elisabeth is able to see inside the closed pyx and to discern real flesh (Vis. 1.28). She sees the moment when the wine turns to blood in the chalice although she is too ill to approach the altar and receive communion, but she must remain at a distance (Vis. 1.27). In another vision, she sees the blood from Christ’s wounded side and feet pour down into the chalice from the crucifix on which he hangs above the altar (Vis. 1.45). When she thinks she is dying and asks for extreme unction, she receives the sacrament from the abbot, or so she thinks; only later does she discover that he was not present and that the sisters around her did not know to whom she was speaking when she was in ecstasy (Vis. 1.65). She sees the dove alight beside the pyx and an angel of God at the altar, witnessing while the sisters receive communion one by one (Vis. 1.75). She almost always witnesses what is being done at the altar even if she is far away (e.g., Vis. 1.44). She sees the dove/Holy Spirit, as in the next chapter, and perceives the miracle of transubstantiation. In Vis. 1.52 she sees the dove descend, bearing something red in its beak; it hovers with outspread wings over the priest’s head, touches it with a drop of the red substance, and then does the same to the servers at the altar. When the time comes to receive communion, Elisabeth faints and sees in a vision that the dove distributes to each nun in turn a portion of what it holds in its beak. This vision is particularly powerful since the nuns receive communion directly from the Holy Spirit, without any sacerdotal intermediary.

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continued praying zealously, the more to confound him. When I had finished praying, I went up into the dormitory. He followed me there. So I went down from there into the chapel, and I came and stood between two sisters who were praying. He followed me even there, and kept standing in front of me, mocking me with a lewd gesture, nor could I turn away from him my mind’s eye, with which I kept gazing at him. Then, unable to bear his wickedness any longer, I said to him boldly: “I command you in the name of the Father and the Son and the Holy Spirit to stop making this sort of gesture immediately and not to show me this sort of wickedness any more.” Immediately he put aside his earlier dress and manner, and stood reverently, dressed now in religious vestments. Then I went out and sat in the convent of the sisters, and there too he followed me and stood smiling at me. After he had disappeared on this occasion, he appeared to me no more. After I had heard mass and received communion, I went down to the midday meal, but because of my violent agitation I scarcely touched my food. After the meal, however, I suddenly felt faint, nor was any strength left in me and I was so pressed in on all sides that every part of me was in pain. Then, with difficulty, I managed to move my tongue to indicate to the sisters who were standing around me that they should bring the relics and recite the Lord’s passion over me and pray. While they prayed, I felt as if my throat were being squeezed hard by someone’s hand, so that I almost suffocated.11 When that hour had passed, for the rest of the time my tempter left me in greater peace, through the grace of the Lord who knows how to snatch his faithful out of temptation. As I think, this release was secured from the Lord by prayer. IX. My sisters and brothers in the Lord gathered together, seeing the torments of my soul, and vowed that for seven consecutive days they would recite communal prayers and chastise themselves before the Lord for my sake, and on each day they would celebrate a special mass for my release from torment.12 And since among the seven masses one was to be sung for the Holy Spirit on June 5th, I was waiting for that day with great longing, hoping that I would then be granted 11

This phenomenon has been described as the “globus hystericus.” See Janet (note 7 above), pp. 98ff. More important than Elisabeth’s temptations is the perseverance with which she struggles against her adversary, supplementing her own determination, appropriately and with humility, by calling on her community for help. In undertaking to pray, to mortify their flesh for her deliverance, and to have special masses said, her community demonstrates a firm belief in the efficacy of the very means Elisabeth uses to save others. Such intercession and the substitution of one’s own physical suffering for the suffering of others occur without any visionary dimension. But Elisabeth also uses her visionary gift to see souls in purgatory who need intercessory prayers. In Vis. 2.7 she meets three nuns who need intercession and Elisabeth and her sisters pray and do bodily penance for them. Elisabeth also arranges to have them included in the mass for the faithful departed. Two later visions (2.8 and 14) reveal to Elisabeth that these efforts are rewarded. One might also think, on a grander scale, of Mechtild of Magdeburg who claimed to have saved 70,000 souls from purgatory through her suffering with Christ. Offenbarungen der Schwester Mechtild von Magdeburg oder das fliessende Licht der Gottheit, ed. Gall Morel (Darmstadt: Wissenschaftliche Buchgesellschaft, [1869] 1963), bk. 2, chap. 8, p. 35, and bk. 3, chap. 15, pp. 76–78. This example is cited by Caroline Walker Bynum, “The Female Body and Religious Practice in the Later Middle Ages,” in Fragmentation and Redemption (New York: Zone Books, 1991), pp. 181–238.

12

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some consolation. The longed-for day arrived and, while the brothers celebrated the divine rite, I lay in prayer with the sisters. And my heart was opened wide and I saw a great light in the heavens and suddenly a dove of great beauty, of the sort I had seen before, emerged from the light and came right up to me. And after circling my head three times, it soon flew back into the heavens. X. After these events, on Friday, while the mass of the cross was being celebrated and I lay prostrate, I saw a glorious cross in the heavens to the left of the heavenly throne. XI. On Saturday, while the office of the glorious virgin was being celebrated, I saw her again on high, in radiance, worshipping before the great majesty of our Lord. And while the servers at the altar were devoutly singing her praises, and had come to that verse in the sequence, Hail, glorious one, that says Pray, virgin, that we be made worthy of that heavenly bread, she bowed down in prayer and remained in this position until the beginning of the scriptural reading. From that day until now, on almost every Saturday and sometimes on other days as well, when an office for the Virgin is celebrated I usually see this same vision. On that same day after nones, as I was standing in the chapter house and weeping very bitterly because of some dreams in which the vileness of my ambusher had greatly vexed my soul, I kept asking my Lady, with the greatest devotion, that she deign to show me some consolation, if perhaps the things that were distressing me were not going to be harmful to me. And suddenly that heavenly light flashed forth, and my consoling Lady stepped out of it and came down to stand before me. Gazing upon her, I carefully observed the movement of her lips and recognized that she was saying my name, Elisabeth, and she added nothing more. Taking this as consolation, I thanked her and she withdrew. XII. Another time, after the dove I told you about had been showing itself to me often, I had doubts about it and asked my lord abbot whether Satan could transform himself into a dove. He said he had never read that such a transformation was possible, yet I continued to have doubts. One day I saw the cross I am accustomed to see and that same dove flew up and perched on the cross. And so I was made certain that it could not be Satan, since he is the enemy of the cross.13

13 Elisabeth is right to be suspicious, since the angel of Satan can disguise himself as an angel of light (2 Corinthians 11:14, on which see Bernard, Serm. 33.9). The devil can trick even holy men grown old in the pursuit of purity. Cassian (Conf. 2.5) tells the story of such an eremite, fooled by the devil because of his own presumptuousness so that he welcomed Satan as “an angel of light” and threw himself into a well. Cassian (Conf. 2.7; 8) goes on to tell of a man who saw a devil, resplendent like an angel, and was tricked into believing in him. The ability of the devil to appear radiant and to give visions is frightening. Bernard (Serm. 33.14) speaks of how the devil may assume disguises, attempting to seduce a good man by counterfeiting goodness. He urges caution, recalling how Mary suspected deceit when the angel came to her (Luke 2:29) and Joshua received the angel warily (Joshua 5:13 ff.). Similarly, the apostles cried out with fear when they saw Christ walking on the sea (Mark 6:48–49). In seeking guidance from the abbot, Elisabeth also does what the Rule instructs her to do; she nevertheless remains skeptical until she sees the dove alight on the cross.

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XIII. On the vigil of the feast of St. John the Baptist,14 during the divine office, I was praying and reciting fifty psalms and other prayers in praise of that venerable precursor of the Lord. When I had almost finished my prayers, suddenly a great light flashed in the heavens and in the middle of it there appeared what looked like a glorious man dressed in gleaming white, facing in the direction of the rising sun. And after a bit he turned toward me an alluring and very lovely countenance, as if he wanted me to look at him. On his head he wore a crown of shining gold, very radiant, and in front it seemed to be decorated with purple. In his right hand I saw a palm branch so bright that its radiance dazzled me so I could barely make out what was near it. And so I understood that this was the glorious martyr whom we were worshipping. Afterward, during matins, while we were intoning the Te Deum Laudamus, he appeared to me in the same manner. I leaned against the wall, and it was only with great difficulty that I was able to keep myself from going into ecstasy. And when he had disappeared again, that light in which I had seen him suddenly divided into two parts and there flashed out of it what seemed like a lightning-bolt, altogether unbearable for me to look at, and I said, “Lord, your grace is sufficient for me, spare my weakness, mitigate for me this extreme brightness for I am not strong enough to bear it.” And immediately it was taken away, and in its place there appeared a very bright star. Later in the day, at the time of the divine sacrifice, this man of God appeared to me once more.

BIBLIOGRAPHY Primary Sources Abelard, Peter. “Abelard’s Letter of Consolation to a Friend (Historia Calamitatum).” Edited by J. T. Muckle. Medieval Studies 7 (1950): 163–213. ———. The Story of Abelard’s Adversities: A Translation with Notes of the Historia Calamitatum. Edited and translated by J. T. Muckle. Toronto: Pontifical Institute of Medieval Studies, 1964. The Acts of the Christian Martyrs. Edited and translated by Herbert Musurillo. Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1972. Benedict. Regula. Edited by Rudolphus Hanslik. Vienna: Turnholt, 1960 (CSEL 75). ———. The Rule of St. Benedict in Latin and English with Notes. Edited and translated by Timothy Fry. Collegeville, Minn.: Liturgical Press, 1981. Bernard of Clairvaux. Sancti Bernardi Opera Omnia. Edited by J. Leclercq, C. H. Talbot, and H. M. Rochais. 8 vols. Rome: Editiones Cistercienses, 1957–1980. ———. On the Song of Songs. Translated by Killian Walsh and Irene Edmonds. Cistercian Fathers Series 4, 7, 31, 40. Kalamazoo, Mich.: Cistercian Publications, 1971–1980. ———. On the Steps of Humility and Pride. In Bernard of Clairvaux: Selected Works. Translated by G. R. Evans. New York: Paulist Press, 1987.

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Cassian, John. Iohannis Cassiani Conlationes XXIIII. Edited by Michael Petschenig. Vienna: Gerold, 1886 (CSEL 13). ———. Iohannis Cassiani De Institutis Coenobiorum et de Octo Principalium Vitiorum Remediis Libri XII: De Incarnatione Domini contra Nestorium Libri VII. Edited by Michael Petschenig. Prague: Tempsky, 1888 (CSEL 17). ———. John Cassian: Conferences. Translated by Colm Luibheid. New York: Paulist Press, 1985. Eadmer. The Life of St. Anselm of Canterbury. Edited and translated by R. W. Southern. Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1979. Ekbert of Schönau. Die Visionen der hl. Elisabeth und die Schriften der Aebte Ekbert und Emecho von Schönau. Edited by F. W. E. Roth. Brünn: Verlag der Studien aus dem Benediktiner- und Cistercienser-Orden, Raigerner Benediktiner Buchdruckerei, 1884. Elisabeth of Schönau. Die Visionen der hl. Elisabeth und die Schriften der Aebte Ekbert und Emecho von Schönau. Edited by F. W. E. Roth. Brünn: Verlag der Studien aus dem Benediktiner- und Cistercienser-Orden, Raigerner Benediktiner Buchdruckerei, 1884. Das Gebetbuch der hl. Elisabeth von Schönau. Edited by F. W. E. Roth. Augsburg: Verlag des Literarischen Instituts von Dr. Max Huttler, 1886. Gilbert of Hoyland. Sermones in Canticum Salomonis. Edited by J.-P. Migne. Patrologia Latina, 184. ———. Sermons on the Song of Songs. Translated by Lawrence C. Braceland. Cistercian Fathers Series 14, 20, 26. Kalamazoo, Mich.: Cistercian Publications, 1978–1979. Guibert of Nogent. Guibert de Nogent: Histoire de sa vie. Edited by Georges Bourgin. Paris: A. Picard, 1907. ———. Self and Society in Medieval France: The Memoirs of Abbot Guibert of Nogent. Translated by John F. Benton. New York: Harper Torchbooks, 1970. Roger of Byland. The Works of Gilbert of Hoyland (vol. 4): Treatises, Epistles and Sermons: with a letter of Roger of Byland. The Milk of Babes. Translated by Lawrence F. Braceland. Cistercian Fathers Series 34. Kalamazoo, Mich.: Cistercian Publications, 1981. Tauler, Johannes. Die Predigten Taulers. Edited by Ferdinand Vetter. Deutsche Texte des Mittelalters 11. Berlin: 1910. ———. The Sermons and Conferences of John Tauler. Translated by Walter Elliott. Washington, D.C.: Apostolic Mission House, 1910.

Secondary Works Benton, John F. “The Personality of Gilbert of Nogent.” The Psychiatric Review 57 (1970): 564–86. Bynum, Caroline Walker. Fragmentation and Redemption: Essays on Gender and the Human Body in Medieval Religion. New York: Zone Books, 1991. ———. Holy Feast and Holy Fast: The Religious Significance of Food to Medieval Women. Berkeley: University of California Press, 1987. ———. Jesus as Mother: Studies in the Spirituality of the High Middle Ages. Berkeley: University of California Press, 1982. ———. The Resurrection of the Body in Western Christianity. 200–1336. New York: Columbia University Press, 1995. ———. “Fast, Feast, and Flesh: The Religious Significance of Food to Medieval Women.” Representations 11 (1984): 179–214.

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———. “‘ . . . and Woman His Humanity.’” In Gender and Religion: On the Complexity of Symbols, edited by Caroline Walker Bynum, Stevan Harrell, and Paula Richman. Boston: Beacon Press, 1986. ———. “Women Mystics and Eucharistic Devotion in the Thirteenth Century.” Women’s Studies 11 (1984): 179–214. Clark, Anne L. Elisabeth of Schönau: A Twelfth-Century Visionary. Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press, 1992. Dean, Ruth J. “Elizabeth of Schönau and Roger of Ford.” Modern Philology 41 (1944): 209–20. ———. “Manuscripts of St. Elizabeth of Schönau in England.” Modern Language Review 32 (1937): 62–71. Dinzelbacher, Peter. Vision und Visionsliteratur im Mittelalter. Monographien zur Geschichte des Mittelalters 23. Stuttgart: Anton Hiersemann, 1981. Dinzelbacher, Peter, and R. Bauer, eds. Frauenmystik im Mittelalter. Ostfildern bei Stuttgart: Schwabenverlag, 1985. Köster, Kurt. “Ekbert von Schönau.” Die deutsche Literatur des Mittelalters: Verfasserlexikon. 2d ed. Berlin: Walter de Gruyter, 1980. ———. “Elisabeth von Schönau (1129 bis 1165).” Nassauische Lebensbilder 3 (1948): 34–59. ———. “Elisabeth von Schönau: Leben, Persönlichkeit und visionäres Werk.” In Schönauer Elisabeth Jubiläum 1965: Festschrift anlässlich des achthundertjährigen Todestages der heiligen Elisabeth von Schönau. Prämonstratenser-Chorherrenstift Tepl in Kloster Schönau, 17–46. Limburg: Pallottiner Druckerei, 1965. ———. “Elisabeth von Schönau: Werk and Wirkung im Spiegel der mittelalterlichen handschriftlichen Überlieferung.” Archiv für mittelrheinische Kirchengeschichte 3 (1951): 243–315. ———. “Das visionäre Werk Elisabeths von Schönau: Studien zu Entstehung, Überlieferung und Wirkung in der mittelalterlichen Welt.” Archiv für mittelrheinische Kirchengeschichte 4 (1952): 243–315. Lewis, Gertrud Jaron. Bibliographie zur deutschen Frauenmystik des Mittelalters Bibliographien zur deutschen Literatur des Mittelalters 10. Berlin: Erich Schmidt Verlag, 1989. ———. “Christus als Frau: Eine Vision Elisabeths von Schönau.” Jahrbuch für Internationale Germanistik 15 (1983): 70–80. Nebe, A. “Die heilige Elisabeth und Egbert von Schönau.” Annalen des Vereins für Nassauische Alterthumskunde und Geschichtsforschung 8 (1866): 157–292. Oehl, Wilhelm. Deutsche Mystikerbriefe des Mittelalters, 1150–1550. Munich: Georg Müller, 1931. Peters, Ursula. Religiöse Erfahrung als literarisches Faktum: Zur Vorgeschichte und Genese frauenmystischer Texte des 13. und 14. Jahrhunderts. Hermaea Germanistische Forschungen, Neue Folge 56. Tübingen: Max Niemeyer Verlag, 1988. Quint, Josef. Textbuch zur Mystik des deutschen Mittelalters: Meister Eckhart, Johannes Tauler, Heinrich Seuse. Halle: Max Niemeyer Verlag, 1952. Ringler, Siegfried. “Rezeption mittelalterlicher Frauenmystik am Werk der Christine Ebner.” In Frauenmystik im Mittelalter, edited by Peter Dinzelbacher and Dieter R. Bauer. Ostfildern bei Stuttgart: Schwabenverlag, 1985.

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Roth, F. W. E. “Aus einer Handschrift der Schriften der hl. Elisabeth von Schönau.” Neues Archiv der Gesellschaft für ältere deutsche Geschichteskunde 36 (1911): 219–25. Schönauer Elisabeth Jubiläum 1965: Festschrift anlässlich des achthundertjährigen Todestages der heiligen Elisabeth von Schönau. Prämonstratenser-Chorherrenstift Tepl in Kloster Schönau. Limburg: Pallottiner Druckerei, 1965. Vitz, Evelyn Birge. “Type et individu dans l’‘autobiographie’ médiévale: Étude d’Historia Calamitatum.” Poétique 21–24 (1975): 426–45. Wenzel, Siegfried. The Sin of Sloth: Acedia in Medieval Thought and Literature. Chapel Hill: University of North Carolina Press, 1967.

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Herrad of Hohenbourg and the Poetry of the Hortus deliciarum: Cantat tibi cantica Fiona Griffiths1

Although she was the editor of the Hortus deliciarum, a manuscript widely recognized as one of the most magnificent illustrated encyclopedias of the medieval period, Herrad, abbess of Hohenbourg (d. after 1196), was the author of only a few of the pieces that it contained.2 A garden of textual flowers as she intended it to be, the Hortus included excerpts from Honorius Augustodunensis, Rupert of Deutz, and Peter Lombard as well as such contemporary scholastic writers as the chancellor of Notre Dame, Peter Comestor.3 As its editor, Herrad’s influence may be felt in every aspect of the Hortus, from the tone and content of the pieces that she selected for inclusion in it to the integration of text and miniature in its folios and the structure of Christian history by which it was organized. However, it is through her own words that Herrad can best be known. In the few poems that she contributed to the Hortus, Herrad reveals her deep love for God and her desire that the nuns of her house would share in her devotion. Fortunately, of all the texts of the Hortus deliciarum, it is the poems that particularly attracted the attention of scholars who examined the manuscript before its destruction during the siege of Strasbourg in 1870. Many of these poems Herrad drew from the work of other authors, among them Hildebert of Lavardin, Walter of Châtillon, Aimé of Monte-Cassino, and Peter the Painter.4 However, her inconsistency in citing her sources, coupled perhaps with the fact that Herrad names herself as the author of the dedicatory poem at the outset of the work, led earlier scholars to assume that either Herrad or Relinde, the previous abbess of Hohenbourg, was the author of all of the poems in the Hortus deliciarum. So, while the poems were for centuries wrongly attributed to Herrad and Relinde, the scholarly attention given them has meant that they survived the 1870 destruction of the manuscript. Copies of the poems were published as early as 1528,5 while 231

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many other parts of the Hortus, including large sections drawn from Peter Lombard and pseudo-Clementine, were never copied and are now lost.6 Of the sixty-seven poems in the Hortus, Herrad’s authorship can be declared with certainty for only one: the dedication poem Salve cohors virginum (HD no. 1). In this piece, and the prose prologue (HD no. 2) that followed it, Herrad asserted her claim to authorship and dedicated her work to the women of Hohenbourg.7 In a short introduction to Salve cohors virginum, she describes the poem as “the rhyme of the abbess Herrad by which she lovingly salutes the Hohenbourg virgins and with good wishes invites them to faith and love of the true bridegroom.” The tone of these opening pieces is cheerful. Herrad presents herself as the loving abbess (licet indigna), mother, and handmaid of the nuns, who are her very great joy. As its title implies, Herrad intended that her work should be a garden of delights in which the women would find refreshment and repose, both for their souls and their minds. In her prologue, Herrad tells that she herself collected textual “flowers” from scripture, as well as the writings of philosophers, as a bee gathers nectar into a honeycomb. Herrad introduced several of the key themes of the Hortus deliciarum in Salve cohors virginum. She writes to encourage the women of Hohenbourg as they pass through the snares of the world, with, she prays, their eyes ever fixed on Christ. The image of the soul’s journey to God is reinforced in Herrad’s prose prologue in which she depicts herself, like Peter, walking on the water, supported by the prayers of the women of Hohenbourg.8 Christ, the Son of Mary, the King of Virgins, awaits the women in heaven, preparing to bestow upon them the riches of eternity should they be victorious in their spiritual battle, a battle that Herrad paints overwhelmingly in terms of defending chastity. While Christ the celestial bridegroom was the focus of her remarks, Herrad also felt keenly the need to warn the nuns of the attacks of the devil. She abhorred sin and consequently included in the Hortus deliciarum texts and miniatures that vividly set forth the results of human depravity.9 From the beginning of the manuscript until its end, Herrad makes clear the existence of Satan, demonic activity, and the reality of hell. The eschatological emphasis of the text, in particular the acute awareness of spiritual warfare and the existence of demonic forces evident throughout the Hortus, is foreshadowed in this initial poem. In keeping with her emphasis on salvific history, Herrad’s poetry is focused not on this world but on the next. Contemptus mundi, a theme that is sustained throughout the texts of the Hortus,10 appears in the introductory poem. “Scorn, scorn the world,” Herrad encourages the women of Hohenbourg, warning them that Christ “hates the blemishes of sins.”11 Salve cohors virginum is the only poem in the Hortus that may unequivocally be attributed to Herrad. Simple in structure, it contains twenty-five stanzas of four lines, each with seven syllables. The rhyme pattern is similarly clear: each

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stanza fits either aaaa or aabb. The poem is complicated only by Herrad’s extensive glossing: its twenty-five stanzas are accompanied by fifty-two Latin glosses. Most of these are relatively straightforward and were probably designed to aid the young women of the community who were only just beginning their Latin study.12 The “terrible enemies” of stanza five, Herrad tells us, are actually demons. The king, she adds, is Christ. Herrad’s gloss of the “little troop of the true Bridegroom” (veri sponsi turmula) in the fourth stanza as “yes, you!” (scilicet tu) interrupts the text with the immediacy of a true teacher. “Wake up,” Herrad seems to be saying to the virgins of Hohenbourg, “I am talking to you!” In other instances, the glosses are not so obvious but function to explain Herrad’s use of metaphor or to develop ideas that may have been abbreviated due to the exigencies of poetic composition. So, although in the twenty-third stanza she tells the women of Hohenbourg to ponder (volvere) the Hortus in their heart (pectore), her glosses indicate that she intends that they should study (pertractare) the text in their memory (memoria). Whether simple or not, the glosses indicate Herrad’s didactic purpose for the manuscript: the Hortus was designed first and foremost as a teaching tool. In addition to these opening pieces (HD no. 1–2), there are other poems in the Hortus, which, by virtue of their subject and placement in the text, may be associated if not explicitly with Herrad then with the monastery at Hohenbourg. The final four folio pages of the Hortus are devoted almost entirely to Hohenbourg, in text as in miniature. The penultimate folios 322v–323r provide a full facing page miniature depicting the legendary seventh- or early-eighth-century foundation of the monastery by Duke Adalric for his daughter St. Odile as well as the sixty women who were resident at Hohenbourg during Herrad’s abbacy. Four poems are inscribed in the miniature. On fol. 322v, Christ presides over the foundation of the monastery, holding a scroll containing the poem O vos quas includit.13 On fol. 322v and fol. 323r, respectively, Relinde and Herrad are depicted symmetrically, standing one on either side of the assembled canonesses and novices. Both women hold scrolls containing poetry. Relinde holds a scroll in the shape of a cross on which a poem is addressed to the women of Hohenbourg: Rilindis Hohenburgensi congregationi. It begins O pie grex and continues with Relinde’s hope that Christ, qui via. qui lux, should rule the “pious flock” of women.14 Herrad’s scroll is also inscribed with a poem. O nivei flores encourages the women of Hohenbourg to maintain their purity of mind and body, scorning the things of the world, so that they may present themselves spotless at last before the heavenly bridegroom.15 A fourth poem appears between Herrad and the women who are shown on fol. 323r. Esto nostrorum is addressed to Christ, seemingly by the women of Hohenbourg themselves.16 An example of leonine verse, the final word of each line in Esto nostrorum rhymes with that preceding the caesura. Given the tone, style, and placement of these four poems in the folios devoted to

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Hohenbourg, it is likely that they originated at the monastery and possible that Herrad had a hand in their composition. If she was their author, Herrad was clearly competent in twelfth-century forms of poetic composition. The final facing pages of the Hortus (fol. 323v and fol. 324r) contain poems that were composed specifically for the women of Hohenbourg: Rithmus de monte Hohenburc (HD no. 1162) and Item rithmus de monte Hohenburc (HD no. 1163). The names of their authors, Conradus and Hugo Sacerdos, are given in acrostics. These men may originally have been canons from the neighboring monasteries of Étival or Marbach, although by the time of writing it is probable that they served the Hohenbourg community from one of Herrad’s nearby foundations at either St. Gorgon or Truttenhausen.17 Through their poems, Conrad and Hugo encourage the women to think of their heavenly bridegroom as they contemplate heaven, just as Herrad advises in Salve cohors virginum. Both men explore the nuptial metaphor more than Herrad does, although Hugo does not encourage the vivid or literalized bridal mysticism that would develop in the following century. He stops at simply mentioning the bridegroom as God, the true king, though he does detail the manner in which women should be adorned in order to please Christ.18 Conrad explores the metaphor further, presenting the women with a celestial marriage scene (thalamus) and recalling them several times to the contemplation of their heavenly bridegroom. Apart from these poems, which were associated with Hohenbourg either by their placement in the Hortus or by their subject, there are others that may be attributed to Herrad on the basis of similarities in style and content with Salve cohors virginum. These are De primo homine on fol. 109v (HD no. 374) and Rithmus de Domino on fol. 166v (HD no. 595).19 Like Salve cohors virginum, for which Herrad’s authorship is undisputed, these two poems are relatively simple in style and rhythm. De primo homine is comprised of twenty-two stanzas of six lines, each with seven syllables and a final stanza containing eight lines. The rhyme scheme throughout is aabbcc; the final stanza adds to this pattern a fourth rhyming couplet. Rithmus de Domino contains eight stanzas of six lines, with a repeating pattern of eight syllables (4⫹4) followed by seven. The rhyme scheme follows a pattern of aabccb. In rhyme scheme, as in rhythm, Rithmus de Domino is very similar to Rithmus de monte Hohenburc (HD no. 1162) and Item rithmus de monte Hohenburc (HD no. 1163), suggesting that all three poems emerged from a similar milieu. In addition to stylistic similarities, these two poems share with Herrad’s introductory poem similarities in content. Certain ideas are repeated, for instance the contemptus mundi that appeared in Herrad’s emphatic “Scorn, scorn the world!” (Sperne, sperne seculum).20 In her prose prologue, Herrad prays that the women of Hohenbourg “may cheerfully hurry over ephemeral things to possess the things that last forever in happiness and pleasure” (transitoria secure percurratis et eterna felici jucunditate possideatis).21 This idea appears in the Rithmus de Domino in a slightly different form:

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Fac nos in hac nebula Sic curramus Ut spernamus Mundi hujus flamina. Ut secure Viae durae Linquamus pericula, Et mox lete Ac quiete Coeli dones praemia. Make us so to hasten In this mist So that we scorn The blasts of this world, So that carefree, We may leave behind The dangers of the hard road And soon happily and peacefully You will bestow on us The rewards of heaven. This idea may again be seen in O nivei flores on fol. 323r: “hasten to heaven, after despising earthly dust” (pulvere terreno contempto currite celo). A similar thematic echo is found in Herrad’s hope for eternal union with God, which appears in Salve cohors virginum and also in De primo homine. Salve cohors virginum Stella maris fulgida Virgo mater unica, Te conjungat Filio Federe perpetuo. Then may Mary, the sea’s shining star, The only virgin mother, Join you to her Son With a perpetual pledge of love. De primo homine Ut nos Dei filio

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Jungamus feliciter Et perpetualiter; That we may happily And perpetually Join ourselves to the Son of God. In fact ideas, descriptions, and metaphors that appear in Salve cohors virginum are also found in many of the poems that might be attributed to Herrad, strengthening the case for her authorship. In Salve cohors virginum, for instance, Herrad describes the women of Hohenbourg as being white like the lily (albens quasi lilium); in another place, they are addressed as snow-white flowers giving forth the scent of virtue (nivei flores dantes virtutis odores). The coupling of flowers with virtue is repeated in De Domino where Christ is described as the flos virtutis (flower of virtue). Herrad’s emphasis on contemptus mundi carries with it a sometimes veiled, but often explicit, warning of punishment meted out to the sinful. Rithmus de primo homine in particular describes in vivid detail the torments of hell; pain and sorrow are accompanied by gnashing of teeth, weeping, and shrieking.22 But after lingering for seven stanzas over descriptions of the most bitter rewards (amarissima praemia) of the wicked, Herrad introduces the comforting caveat that only those who are servants of the flesh (carnis famula) should fear the sulphurs of hell. Her emphasis on punishment and hell is counterbalanced by her celebration of heaven and of its rewards, a juxtaposition that is also apparent in O vos quas includit.23 O Vos quas includit, frangit, gravat, atterit, urit, in terris Hic carcer, mestus, labor, exilium, dolor, estus; in celis Me lucem, requiem, patriam, medicamen et umbram, Querite, sperate, scitote, tenete, vocate. O you whom prison confines, Sorrow breaks, Labor burdens, Exile and grief wear down, And passion burns here on earth; Seek me as light, Hope for me as rest, Know me as your homeland,

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Hold me as balm, Call me as cooling shade In heaven. In both poems, Herrad’s uncompromising approach to sin is tempered by a gentleness and joyfulness that conveys her affinity for the women of Hohenbourg. In general, the tone of Herrad’s poetry, as suggested by the title of her manuscript, tends to joyful expressions of love for Christ, who appears in them as the king of the godly, the fountain of life, the flower of virtue, and the hope of salvation.24 He is light, rest, solace, and comfort.25 Heaven is the city “in which the light is justice and the voice is happiness, in which the throngs rejoice in peace everlasting.”26 Herrad’s desire to worship God is palpable in her poetry. “Teach our choir to praise you in our way of life,” she pleads.27 And again she begs, “Make us thirst for you and know you.”28 Conrad and Hugo share in the celebratory nature of Herrad’s poetry. “Rejoice,” Hugo encourages the women of Hohenbourg, “rejoice with singing.”29 Adopting Herrad’s image of the Hortus as the source of the nectar of scripture, Conrad writes of the women: “Let them drink now, let them drink in the future, let them live now and always, let them all live eternally.”30 Despite these similarities, there are nevertheless differences between the poems that may have been written by Herrad and Salve cohors virginum, which we know to be her work. The chief of these differences lies in the lack of glosses. De primo homine is accompanied by only two glosses, one in Latin and one in German, while Rithmus de Domino is not glossed at all. As we have seen, Salve cohors virginum is accompanied by fifty-two glosses that are central to Herrad’s didactic purpose. If Herrad was the author of these two poems, as Autenrieth and Bischoff have assumed, her lack of glosses presents a puzzle that remains to be solved.31 Other differences have to do with the themes and content of the poems. Christ as the bridegroom is a primary theme in Salve cohors virginum. In her opening lines Herrad encourages the women of the monastery to focus always on their heavenly lover: Christus parat nupcias Miras per delicias, Hunc expectes principem Te servando virginem. Christ prepares a wedding Wonderful in delights, May you await this prince By keeping yourself a virgin. But the nuptial theme is not explored extensively either in De primo homine or Rithmus de Domino, or in three of the four short poems in the corresponding

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miniatures (fol. 322v and fol. 323r). Only O nivei flores encourages the Hohenbourg women to hasten to heaven where they would be reunited with the bridegroom.32 The idea of celestial marriage does, however, appear in the poetry of Conrad and Hugo, men who were most likely connected with Hohenbourg in some way. Despite these slight variations, it seems likely that Herrad was the author of De primo homine and Rithmus de Domino. Her relationship to the four poems inscribed in the miniature on fols. 322v and 323r is not clear, although these were probably associated with Hohenbourg and may well have been her work. Rithmus de monte Hohenburc and Item rithmus de monte Hohenburc (HD nos. 1162 and 1163) were certainly written by Conrad and Hugo specifically for inclusion in the manuscript. Through her poetry Herrad spoke directly to the women of her house, communicating spiritual truths, warnings, and exhortation. Her poems were most likely accompanied by musical notation, evidence that they may have been sung aloud by the women of Hohenbourg. Unfortunately such notation now survives only for De primo homine.33 The regular rhythm of these poems, together with their music, must have made it easy for Herrad’s nuns to memorize them. Of course, this is what Herrad had intended when she wrote in her dedication poem: Sit hic liber utilis, Tibi delectabilis Et non cesses volvere1 Hunc2 in tuo pectore.3 May this book be useful And delightful to you May you never cease to study it In your thoughts and memory. Listen now as the abbess of Hohenbourg sings a song for you. NOTES 1.

I am grateful to Barbara Newman and Terence Bredin for their very helpful comments on earlier drafts of this paper. 2. Herrad of Hohenbourg, Hortus deliciarum, ed. Rosalie Green, Michael Evans, Christine Bischoff, and Michael Curschmann, 2 vols. (London: The Warburg Institute, 1979), hereafter referred to as HD. I shall follow the 1979 edition in designating texts and miniatures of the reconstructed Hortus as “HD nos.” and “HD

1

pertractare. librum. 3 memoria. 2

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3.

4.

5.

6.

7.

8. 9.

10. 11. 12.

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fols.,” respectively. Citations from the Commentary shall be designated by the author’s name followed by “HD p.” and descriptions of miniatures in the Commentary as “HD Cat. No.” For a discussion of the sources of the Hortus deliciarum, see Bischoff, HD pp. 37–61; Fiona Griffiths, Female Spirituality and Intellect in the Twelfth and Thirteenth Centuries: A Case Study of Herrad of Hohenbourg (Cambridge University, unpublished dissertation, 1998). Many of the poems included in the Hortus may also be found in the florilegia of Charleville and Copenhagen. André Wilmart, “Poèmes de Gautier de Châtillon dans un manuscrit de Charleville,” Revue bénédictine 49 (1937): 121–69; 322–65. Paul Lehmann, “Eine Sammlung mittellateinischer Gedichte aus dem Ende des 12. Jahrhunderts,” Erforschung des Mittelalters 4 (1961): 283–316. In 1528 Gebwiller published poems from the Hortus that he entitled the Carmina Relindis and attributed to Relinde. Jérôme Gebwiller, Gravissimae sacrilegii ac contemptae theosebiae ultionis. . . . syngramma (Strasbourg, 1528), fol. D3a–D4b. Fol. 264r–fol. 294r of the Hortus are devoted to Peter Lombard’s Sententiae (HD nos. 892–1124). Fol. 295r–fol. 308v were taken from the pseudo-Clementine Recognitiones (HD nos. 1125–1130). It is not clear why Herrad referred to this prologue as a prosa, a term generally used to describe an unrhymed sequence, and not as an epistula. Peter Dronke, “The Beginnings of the Sequence,” in The Medieval Poet and His World, Storia e Letteratura 164, ed. Peter Dronke (Rome: Edizioni di Storia Letteratura, 1984), pp. 115–44. Matthew 14:28–30. See in particular the lurid depiction of hell on fol. 255r. Fol. 255r is divided horizontally into four separate sections; in each demons torment their human prey. On the very lowest level of hell, Lucifer sits enthroned on a seat of ravenous beasts who devour humans. Skulls are scattered beneath his throne. The little form of antichrist is perched on Satan’s knee. Beside the throne, a man, clearly a usurer in life, is forced by a demon to consume burning coins. His stomach is swelled with its unwelcome fruit. On the second level, two pots hang side by side over roaring fires. The pot on the left is marked Judei while the pot on the right is marked armati milites. Demons tend the fires and feed more bodies to the already crowded pots. The third level of hell depicts, amongst other horrors, a woman who devours her child, while on the top level another woman breastfeeds a serpent that has wound itself about her naked body. Above her head the text of Isaiah 66:24 warns: vermis impiorum non morietur et ignis illorum in sempiternum non extinguetur. Contemptus mundi is the theme of HD nos. 125, 359, 715, 732f, 741, 750, 1164, 1165. Sperne, sperne seculum; Christus odit maculas. HD no. 2. Although equivalent glosses were not uncommon during the twelfth century, it is unusual to find such evidence of Latin instruction within a female monastery. Books owned by female houses were generally liturgical or devotional rather than didactic or scholastic, as the Hortus. Susann El Kholi, Lektüre in Frauenkonventen des ostfränkisch-deutschen Reiches vom 8. Jahrhundert bis zur Mitte des 13. Jahrhunderts,

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13. 14. 15. 16. 17.

18.

19.

Fiona Griffiths Würzburger Wissenschaftliche Schriften 203 (Würzburg: Königshausen and Neumann, 1997); David Bell, What Nuns Read: Books and Libraries in Medieval English Libraries (Kalamazoo, Mich.: Cistercian Publications, 1995); Alcuin Blamires, “The Limits of Bible Study for Medieval Women” in Women, the Book and the Godly, Select Proceedings of the St. Hilda’s Conference, 1993, vol. 2, ed. Lesley Smith and Jane Taylor, pp. 1–12 (Woodbridge, Suffolk: D. S. Brewer, 1995). However, as John Contreni observes, “the large collection of excerpts, glosses, and pedagogical and devotional extracts that survive cannot be attributed solely to the activity of male compilers and readers.” Many anonymous pieces may well be the work of women. John J. Contreni, “The Carolingian Renaissance: Education and Literary Culture,” in The New Cambridge Medieval History, vol. 2, ed. Rosamond McKitterick (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1995); p. 719; Rosamond McKitterick, “Women and Literacy in the Early Middle Ages,” in Books Scribes and Learning in the Frankish Kingdoms, 6th–9th Centuries, ed. Rosamond McKitterick 13 (Aldershot, U.K.: Variorum, 1994), pp. 1–43. HD Cat. No. 345. HD Cat. No. 345. HD Cat. No. 346. HD Cat. No. 346. Herrad founded two monastic houses close to Hohenbourg, the first at St. Gorgon in 1178 and the second at Truttenhausen in 1180. These were designed to provide priests to celebrate the divine service at Hohenbourg. M. Idoux, “Relations d’Étival avec les monastères Alsacians d’Andlau et de Hohenbourg,” Annales de la Société d’Emulation du Département des Vosges 89 (1913): 3–108. Herrad’s foundations are recorded in charters and papal bulls that may be found in the Archives Départementales du Bas-Rhin, 5 Rue Fischart, 67000 Strasbourg, France. A copy of her foundation charter for St. Gorgon is printed in Stefan Alexander Würdtwein, Nova subsidia diplomatica, vol. 10 (Heidelberg: T. Goebhardt, 1781–1792), pp. 63–67. Herrad’s foundation charter for Truttenhausen is lost; no copy has been preserved. However, the foundation was confirmed by Pope Lucius III in 1185. His bull is printed in Johann Daniel Schoepflin, Alsatia aevi Merovingici, Carolingici, Saxonici, Salici, Suevici diplomatica, vol. 1, no. 335, Mannheim, 1772–1775. Sacer cultus, simplex vultus, casta mens et humilis, amatori, servatori Christo est amabilis. Cantus suavis gestus gravis motus pudicicie, eternalis absque malis signa sunt leticie. Regis nate sic ornate sunt. HD no. 1163. Autenrieth holds that Herrad was most probably the author of HD nos. 374 and 595 and that, on the basis of similarities in form, language, and content, she may also have been the author of the Beata illa patria, a poem that appears in a miniature of the celestial court on fol. 244r (HD Cat. No. 317). Johanne Autenrieth, “Einige Bemerkungen zu den Gedichten im Hortus deliciarum Herrads von Landsberg,” in Festschrift Bernhard Bischoff, ed. Johanne Autenrieth and Franz Brunhölzl (Stuttgart: A. Hiersemann, 1971), pp. 315, 317. Following Autenrieth, Bischoff includes the Beata illa patria in the Hortus among poems that may be attributed to Herrad. Bischoff, HD, p. 58. However, the Beata illa patria is prop-

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20. 21. 22. 23. 24. 25. 26. 27. 28. 29. 30. 31. 32. 33.

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erly the fourth stanza of Interni festi gaudia, a sequence that appears in graduals of Saint-Victor and Sainte-Geneviève and that was attributed to Adam of SaintVictor during the late fifteenth century. Léon Gautier, Oeuvres Poétiques d’Adam de Saint-Victor (Paris: Librairie Victor Palmé, 1881), p. 222; Margot Fassler, “Who Was Adam of St. Victor? The Evidence of the Sequence Manuscripts,” Journal of the American Musicological Society 37 (1984): 233–69, 236. HD no. 1. HD no. 2. Habet post delicias hec aeternas tenebras ibi fletus luminum et est stridor dentium, clamor hic plorantium, dolor ululantium. HD no. 374. HD fol. 322v; HD Cat. No. 345. HD no. 595. O Vos quas includit, HD fol. 322v; HD Cat. No. 345. In qua lux justitia et est vox laetitia, in qua gaudent agmina requie perpetua. HD no. 374. Nostrum chorum laudes morum doce tibi promere. HD no. 595. Te sitire et te scire fac nos in hac nebula sic curramus ut spernamus mundi hujus flamina. HD no. 595. HD no. 1163. Bibant (hic), bibant (in futuro) vivant (nunc et semper) vivant omnes eternaliter. HD no. 1162. Autenrieth “Einige Bemerkungen;” Bischoff, HD pp. 57–61. Pulvere terreno contempto currite celo, que nunc absconsum valeatis cernere sponsum. HD Cat. No. 346. Levy, HD pp. 87–88.

HERRAD OF HOHENBOURG: SELECTED POEMS OF THE HORTUS DELICIARUM The text of the Hortus deliciarum was accompanied by numerous interlinear and marginal glosses. In the 1979 Warburg reconstruction of the manuscript, these are relegated primarily to the footnotes. I have followed this format.

HD no. 1 Rithmus Herradis abbatisse per quem Hohenburgenses virginculas amabiliter salutat et ad veri sponsi fidem dilectionemque salubriter invitat. Salve cohors virginum Hohenburgiensium Albens quasi lilium Amans Dei Filium.

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Herrat devotissima Tua fidelissima Mater et ancillula Cantat tibi cantica. Te salutat milies Et exoptat in dies, Ut leta victoria Vincas transitoria. O multorum speculum Sperne, sperne seculum, Virtutes accumula, Veri sponsi turmula.1 Insistas luctamine, Diros hostes2 sternere, Te rex3 regum adjuvat Quia te desiderat.4 Ipse tuum animum Firmat contra Zabulum, Ipse post victoriam5 Dabit regni gloriam. Te decent delicie6 Debentur divicie7 Tibi celi curia, Servat bona plurima. Christus parat nupcias8 Miras per delicias, Hunc expectes9 principem Te servando virginem.

1

scilicet tu. id est demones. 3 Christus. 4 in sponsam. 5 id est mortem. 6 scilicet regni celestis. 7 eternitatis. 8 in celo. 9 in isto seculo. 2

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Interim monilia10 Circumdes11 nobilia, Et exornet faciem Mentis purgans aciem. Christus odit maculas,12 Rugas13 spernit vetulas, Pulchras14 vult virginculas Turpes15 pellit feminas. Fide cum turturea Sponsum istum redama, Ut tua formositas Fiat perpes claritas. Vivens16 sine fraudibus Es monenda17 laudibus, Ut consummes18 optima Tui gradus19 opera. Ne vacilles dubia20 Inter mundi flumina21 Verax Deus premia22 Spondet post pericula.23 Patere nunc aspera, Mundi spernens prospera,

10

virtutes. exerceas. 12 peccata. 13 crimina anime. 14 castas. 15 id est incestas. 16 tu. 17 a me. 18 finias. 19 ordinis. 20 in fide. 21 impedimenta. 22 tibi. 23 mundi. 11

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Nunc sis cruci24 socia25 Regni consors postea. Per hoc mare26 naviga, Sanctitate gravida,27 Dum de navi28 exeas Syon29 sanctam teneas. Syon turris celica, Bella30 tenens atria, Tibi fiat statio,31 Acto32 vite spacio. Ibi33 rex virgineus34 Et Marie Filius35 Amplectens te redamet A merore36 relevet. Parvipendens omnia Temptatoris37 jacula, Tunc gaudebis38 pleniter Jubilando39 suaviter. Stella maris fulgida,40 Virgo mater unica,

24

Christi. duram sustinens. 26 mundum. 27 plena. 28 corpore. 29 id est urbem celestem. 30 pulchra. 31 requies. 32 finito. 33 in Syon. 34 Christus. 35 Christus. 36 hujus seculi. 37 diaboli. 38 in Syon. 39 canticum agni. 40 Maria 25

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Te conjungat Filio Federe41 perpetuo. Et me tecum trahere Non cesses precamine, Ad sponsum42 dulcissimum43 Virginalem Filium. Ut tue victorie, Tue magne glorie, Particeps inveniar44 De terrenis45 eruar. Vale casta contio, Mea jubilatio, Vivas sine crimine46 Christum semper dilige. Sit hic liber utilis, Tibi delectabilis Et non cesses volvere47 Hunc48 in tuo pectore49 Ne more strucineo Surrepat50 oblivio, Et ne viam51 deseras Antequam pervenias52 Amen amen amen Amen amen amen

41

amore. Christum. 43 scilicet. 44 in celis. ut. 45 de periculis. 46 in hac vità. 47 pertractare. 48 librum. 49 memoria. 50 tibi. 51 Christum. 52 ad illum. 42

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Amen amen amen Amen amen amen. HD no. 2 Item prosa per Herradem abbatissam predictis virgunculis causa exhortationis composita. Herrat gratia Dei Hohenburgensis ecclesie abbatissa licet indigna dulcissimis Christi virginibus in eadem ecclesia quasi in Christi vinea Domini fideliter laborantibus, graciam et gloriam, quam dabit Dominus. Sanctitati vestre insinuo, quod hunc librum qui intitulatur Hortus deliciarum ex diversis sacre et philosophice scripture floribus quasi apicula Deo inspirante comportavi et ad laudem et honorem Christi et Ecclesie, causaque dilectionis vestre quasi in unum mellifluum favum compaginavi. Quapropter in ipso libro oportet vos sedulo gratum querere pastum et mellitis stillicidiis animum reficere lassum, ut sponsi blandiciis semper occupate et spiritalibus deliciis saginate53 transitoria secure percurratis et eterna felici jucunditate possideatis, meque per varias maris semitas periculose gradientem fructuosis orationibus vestris a terrenis affectibus mitigatam una vobiscum in amorem dilectl54 vestri sursum trahatis. Amen. HD no. 374 De primo homine. Rithmus.55 Primus parens hominum Lumen cernens coelicum, Ita fuit conditus Coetus ut angelicus, Consors esset illius Ac foret perpetuus. Serpens hunc deceperat Pomum quod gustaverat, Fuerat quod vetitum Et sic vicit miserum Statim pulsus patria Pulchra liquit atria. 53

id est inpinguate. Christi. 55 id est numerus. 54

Herrad of Hohenbourg and the Poetry of the Hortus deliciarum

Flebilis miserrimum Ruit in exilium, Plagis est impositus Diris de latronibus Quos infelix incidit Patria dum excidit. Hunc et spoliaverant Semivivum liquerant; Cui subvenit gratia Ille de Samaria, Stabulo induxerat Curam ejus egerat. Ejus sanans vulnera Solita clementia, Sic nos pius Dominus Eruit de faucibus Colubri nequissimi, Hostis invidissimi. Qui humani generis Gaudet de miseriis, Cruciatu pascitur, Poenae pater dicitur: Visu est horribilis In omni terribilis; Nullis flecti precibus Potest crudelissimus. Si in malo opere Quemquam sentit vivere Hunc dolose decipit Servum sibi eligit. Servis suis praemia, Dabit amarissima, Illos quando tartarum Mergit in sulphureum. Ejus aula sordida Multa habet tristia.

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Ibi errant animae, Dolor adest undique Gemitu moerentium Et luctu dolentium Domus tota personat, Ipse poenas ordinat. Orcus sedens solio Ignis pice fumido, Visus ejus horridus Dolor est aestuantibus; Pro diversis viciis Poenas tradit singulis. Potentes potentibus Committit tortoribus. Ibi sunt angustiae Et multe miseriae, Ibi poenitentia, Sine indulgentia. Vae, vae lamentabiliae Clamant semper animae; Verba dant precantia Nec auxiliantia Post calorem nimium Aquas intrans nivium. Nulla tamen anima Nisi carnis famula Pertimescat tartarum Et regem tartareum, Quae internis tenebris Carne jacet debilis. Habet post delicias Hec aeternas tenebras Ibi fletus luminum Et est stridor dentium, Clamor hic plorantium, Dolor ululantium.

Fiona Griffiths

Herrad of Hohenbourg and the Poetry of the Hortus deliciarum

Judex hic tartareus Gaudens cruciatibus Mala nostra trutinat,56 Poenam et remunerat, Ne nos hoc voragine Versaremur misere, Deus quaerens venerat Ovem quam prodiderat, Et qui legem dederat Legi se subdiderat, Et pro his quos condidit Mortem diram subiit. Nobis sic compatiens Dederat omnipotens Liberum arbitrium De vitandi tartarum, Vitia si spernimus Et si bona facimus. Nil nocebit animam, Veniet ad gloriam Et debemus Dominum Et amare proximum; Haec praecepta gemina Ducunt ad coelestia, Et per portam ferream Dant ad urbem semitam, In qua lux justitia Et est vox laetitia, In qua gaudent agmina Requie perpetua. Est vere floridior Et sole splendidior Mellis habet flumina, Dulcis aurae flamina;

56

wiget.

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Dicta pacis visio, Ornatu angelico, Est exstructa civitas, In qua est jocunditas; In tam dulci patria Nulla erunt taedia, Ibi exsultatio, Ibi delectatio. Inenarrabilia Ibi dantur gaudia Quae paravit Dominus Sese diligentibus; Festinemus ingredi Civitatem Domini. Fugiamus exilio Ut nos Dei filio Jungamus feliciter Et perpetualiter; Hoc concedat omnibus Seculorum Dominus Qui per cuncta tempora Regnat summa gloria. Amen. HD no. 595 Rithmus de Domino nostro Jhesu Christo. O Rex pie, O Dux viae, Jesu Christe optime, Nostrum chorum Laudes morum Doce tibi promere. Ut concordes Mentis sordes Tua ope celica Expurgemus

Fiona Griffiths

Herrad of Hohenbourg and the Poetry of the Hortus deliciarum

Et mundemus Cordis nostris intima. Ut psallamus Et solvamus Vota nostra plenitus, Spe sincera Vita vera Te colentes jugitus. Tu fons vitae Manans rite In purgata pectora Rigas mentem Sitientem Sancta per carismata. Tu solamen Et levamen Pro te tribulantibus Onus leve, Hujus suave Bene laborantibus. Flos virtutis, Spes salutis, Honor ineffabilis, Pulchritudo, Sanctitudo Est inestimabilis. Te sitire Et te scire Fac nos in hac nebula Sic curramus Ut spernamus Mundi hujus flamina. Ut secure Viae durae Linquamus pericula,

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Et mox lete Ac quiete Coeli dones praemia. HD fol. 322v; HD Cat. No. 345. O Vos quas includit, frangit, gravat, atterit, urit, in terris Hic carcer, mestus, labor, exilium, dolor, estus; in celis Me lucem, requiem, patriam, medicamen et umbram, Querite, sperate, scitote, tenete, vocate. HD fol. 322v; HD Cat. No. 345. O pie grex, cui celica lex est, nulla doli fex; Ipse Syon mons ad patriam pons, atque boni fons; est Qui via, qui lux, hic tibi sit dux, alma tegat crux. Castitatis eternitatis Christus Qui placidus ros, qui stabilis dos, virgineus flos grex Ille regat te commiserans me, semper ubique; amen. HD fol. 323r; HD Cat. No. 346. Esto nostrorum pia merces Christe laborum. Nos electorum numerans in sorte tuorum. HD fol. 323r; HD Cat. No. 346. O nivei flores dantes virtutis odores, Semper divina pausantes in theoria, Pulvere terreno contempto currite celo, celo Que nunc absconsum valeatis cernere sponsum.

TRANSLATIONS BY FIONA GRIFFITHS Translator’s note: Rather than translate the Latin glosses of Herrad’s poetry directly into English footnotes, I have incorporated these glosses into my verse

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translation only where they contribute significantly to the meaning of the poem. Many of the glosses are straightforward in their explanation of standard Christian symbolism: rex in HD no. 1, for instance, is identified in note 3 as Christus. Other glosses are used to expand an idea that can only be implicit in the verse due to the meter of the Latin poetry. These I have generally translated directly into the English verse. Overall, the glosses reinforce that the Hortus was a teaching tool for the women of Hohenbourg. HD no. 1 The rhyme of the abbess Herrad by which she lovingly salutes the Hohenbourg virgins and with good wishes invites them to faith and love of the true bridegroom. Greetings, virgin band Of Hohenbourg Who, white as the lily, Love the Son of God. Herrad, Your most devoted mother And faithful little handmaid Sings songs for you. She greets you and prays A thousand times each day That, with happy victory, You shall overcome those things that pass. O mirror of many, Scorn, scorn the world! Pile up virtues, Little troop of the true Bridegroom. Stand firm in the struggle To overthrow the terrible enemies The King of kings encourages you Since he longs for you. He himself strengthens your soul Against Zabulon After death, which is our victory, He will give you the glory of his kingdom.

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The delights of the celestial kingdom become you The riches of eternity are owed to you For you, the heavenly court Reserves many blessings. Christ prepares a wedding Wonderful in delights, May you await this prince By keeping yourself a virgin. Meanwhile, gird yourself With noble necklaces And let Christ adorn each face Cleansing it from the gaze of the mind, For he hates the blemishes of sin And scorns the aged wrinkles of a guilty soul, His desire is for beautiful little maidens Ugly women he drives away. With faith like a dove Turn back to that Bridegroom of yours So that your beauty May become an everlasting brightness. You who are living without deceit Be admonished by my praises That you may complete the excellent works Of your order. But lest you should waver with uncertain faith Amidst the streams of this world A truthful God pledges rewards After the dangers are past. Suffer bitterness now Despising the fortunes of the world Be now a partner in Christ’s cross, suffering hardship, And thereafter consort of the King. Navigate through this sea Pregnant with holiness

Fiona Griffiths

Herrad of Hohenbourg and the Poetry of the Hortus deliciarum

Until you leave this mortal vessel And attain holy Syon. Syon of the celestial battlements With its beautiful courts May it be your station, your rest, When life’s course has been run. There in Syon, may the Virgin King, Christ, the Son of Mary, Return your love and, embracing you, Comfort you from the grief of this world. Then counting as little All the darts of that tempter the Devil You will be filled with delight In sweet jubilation of the song of the Lamb. Then may Mary, the sea’s shining star, The only virgin mother, Join you to her Son With a perpetual pledge of love. And may you never cease to pull me with you By your prayers To Christ, the most sweet Bridegroom The Son of the virgin. That I may be rescued from earthly dangers And be found in heaven Sharing in your victory In your great glory. Farewell chaste assembly My joy May you live without reproach in this life And always cherish Christ. May this book be useful And delightful to you May you never cease to study it In your thoughts and memory.

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Lest like an ostrich Forgetfulness should steal upon you And you should forsake the way Before you have reached Christ. Amen. HD no. 2 A letter by Herrad, abbess to the aforementioned virgins, composed for the sake of their encouragement. Herrad, by the grace of God, abbess, although unworthy, of the church of Hohenbourg, to the sweet virgins of Christ faithfully working at Hohenbourg as though in the vineyard of the Lord, grace and glory, which the Lord will give. I make it known to your holiness, that, like a bee inspired by God, I collected from the diverse flowers of sacred scripture and philosophic writings this book, which is called the Hortus deliciarum, and I brought it together to the praise and honor of Christ and the church and for the sake of your love as if into a single sweet honeycomb. Therefore, in this very book, you ought diligently to seek pleasing food and to refresh your exhausted soul with its honeyed dewdrops, so that, always occupied with the caresses of the Bridegroom and fattened on spiritual delights, you may cheerfully hurry over ephemeral things to possess the things that last forever in happiness and pleasure. And now as I pass dangerously through the various pathways of the sea, I ask that you may redeem me with your fruitful prayers from earthly passions and draw me upward, together with you, into the affection of your beloved. Amen. HD no. 374 A rhyme concerning the first man. Man’s first parent As he gazed upon the heavenly light Was created To be a companion of the angels, The consort of the angelic cohort And to live forever. The serpent deceived that wretched man The apple that he tasted Was the forbidden one, And so that serpent conquered him

Herrad of Hohenbourg and the Poetry of the Hortus deliciarum

And immediately, expelled from paradise, He left those beautiful courts. The lamentable man Tumbled into most miserable exile And was wounded by dread bandits. He came upon them, That unlucky one, As he left paradise. They robbed him And left him half-dead. But, by grace, that one from Samaria Ministered to him. The Samaritan led him to lodging And took care of him. Healing his wounds With his wonted kindness, In the same way, our loving Lord Rescued us from the jaws Of that most worthless snake, That most hateful enemy. The one who delights In the miseries of the human race, Who feasts on torture, Is called the father of punishment. He is horrible to see, Terrifying in every way. By no entreaties can The cruelest one be swayed. If he senses that anyone Is living wickedly He ensnares such a man craftily Choosing him to be his slave. To his slaves He will give most bitter rewards When he plunges them Into fire and brimstone.

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His squalid palace Contains much sadness. There souls wander And trouble appears on every side; The whole house resounds With the moaning of those who sorrow And the laments of those who grieve; These penalties he has ordained himself. The god of hell sits on the throne Which smokes with pitch-black fire; His face is horrifying. There is pain to those who are burning For different vices He hands down his punishment to each. The powerful He entrusts to powerful torturers In that place where dire straits are And many miseries And penitence Without leniency. Woe, woe! The mournful souls always shout They utter words of prayer, But there is no succor; After the excessive heat They plunge into icy waters. But there is no soul Except a servant of the flesh That should fear the underworld And the king of hell. Such a one lies dead in inner darkness Weakened by the flesh. After the delights of the world This soul has an eternal night In which there shall be weeping And gnashing of teeth

Fiona Griffiths

Herrad of Hohenbourg and the Poetry of the Hortus deliciarum

The shouts of those lamenting And the sorrow of those shrieking. The infernal judge, Rejoicing at the terrible sufferings, Weighs our evil deeds And repays us with punishments. But lest we should be ruined In this abyss of sin God came seeking the sheep Which he had lost, And he who gave the law Put himself under it, So that for those whom he created He suffered a most horrible death. Suffering in this way with us, The omnipotent one Gave to his children a choice, The ability to avoid hell, If we scorn vices And if we do good. Nothing will harm our soul; It will come into glory, And so we ought to love God And our neighbor. These twin precepts Lead to heaven. And through the iron gate They supply the path to the city In which the light is justice And the voice is happiness, In which the throngs rejoice In peace everlasting. It is more full of flowers than the spring, More splendid than the sun; It has rivers of honey And sweetly-smelling breezes;

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It is called the vision of peace, In the beauty of angels. There is a city built In which there is joy; In such a sweet country There will be no weariness, But exultation And delight. Indescribable Joys are given there, Which the Lord prepared For those who love him; Let us hasten to enter Into the city of God. So let us flee from exile That we may happily And perpetually Join ourselves to the Son of God. May the Lord of the ages Grant this to all, He who rules through all time With utmost glory. Amen. HD no. 595 A rhyme concerning our Lord Jesus Christ O gracious King, O leader of the way, Most high, Jesus Christ, Teach our choir To praise you In our way of life. So that in harmony with you We may expel the filth From our minds With your heavenly help And cleanse The recesses of our hearts,

Fiona Griffiths

Herrad of Hohenbourg and the Poetry of the Hortus deliciarum

That we may sing Psalms And fulfill Our vows completely, With sincere hope And true life, Perpetually worshipping you. You are the well of life, Flowing justly Into hearts cleansed; Through your holy acts of grace You moisten The parched spirit. You are solace And comfort For those in tribulation for your sake. His burden is a light And pleasant one For those who labor well. You are the flower of virtue, The hope of salvation, Honor unspeakable. Your beauty, Your holiness, Are inestimable. Make us thirst for you And know you, Make us so to hasten In this mist So that we scorn The blasts of this world, So that carefree, We may leave behind The dangers of the hard road And soon happily and peacefully You will bestow on us The rewards of heaven.

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HD fol. 322v; HD Cat. No. 345. O you whom prison confines, Sorrow breaks, Labor burdens, Exile and grief wear down, And passion burns here on earth; Seek me as light, Hope for me as rest, Know me as your homeland, Hold me as balm, Call me as cooling shade In heaven. HD fol. 322v; HD Cat. No. 345 O pious flock to whom the heavenly law is given, in whom there is no residue of deceit; He is the mount of Syon, the bridge to paradise, and the fount of good; May he who is the way of chastity, the light of eternity, Christ, be your leader; May the gracious cross protect you. O flock, may he who is the peaceful dew, the stable dowry, the virginal flower, guide you, Having mercy on me, always and everywhere. Amen. HD fol. 323r; HD Cat. No. 346. O Christ, be the gracious reward of our labors. Count us in the number of your elect. HD fol. 323r; HD Cat. No. 346. O snow-white flowers giving forth the scent of virtue, Always resting in divine contemplation, Hasten to heaven, after despising earthly dust, That you may be able to see the Bridegroom, who is now hidden. BIBLIOGRAPHY Primary Sources Archives Départementales du Bas-Rhin, 5 Rue Fischart, 67000 Strasbourg, France. Gebwiller, Jérôme. Gravissimae sacrilegii ac contemptae theosebiae ultionis . . . syn gramma. Strasbourg, 1528.

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Herrad of Hohenbourg. Hortus deliciarum. Edited by Rosali T. Julian Brown, and Kenneth Levy. 2 vols. London: The Warburg Institute, 1979. Schoepflin, Johann Daniel. Alsatia aevi Merovingici, Carolingici, Saxonici, Salici, Suevici diplomatica. 2 vols. Mannheim, 1772–1775. Würdtwein, Stefan Alexander. Nova subsidia diplomatica. 14 vols. Heidelberg: T. Goebhardt, 1781–1792.

Secondary Works Autenrieth, Johanne. “Einige emerkungen zu den Gedichten im Hortus deliciarum Herrads von Landsberg.” In Festschrift Bernhard Bischoff zu seinem 65. Geburtstag, edited by Johanne Autenrieth and Franz Brunhölzl. Stuttgart: A. Hiersemann, 1971. Bell, David. What Nuns Read: Books and Libraries in Medieval English Libraries. Kalamazoo, Mich.: Cistercian Publications, 1995. Blamires, Alcuin. “The Limits of Bible Study for Medieval Women.” In Women, the Book and the Godly. Select Proceedings of the St. Hilda’s Conference, 1993, 2 vols., edited by Lesley Smith and Jane Taylor. Woodbridge, U.K.: D. S. Brewer, 1995. Contreni, John J. “The Carolingian Renaissance: Education and Literary Culture.” In The New Cambridge Medieval History, Vol. 2, edited by Rosamond McKitterick. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1995. Dronke, Peter. “The Beginnings of the Sequence.” In The Medieval Poet and His World, Storia e Letteratura 164, edited by Peter Dronke. Rome: Edizioni di Storia Letteratura, 1984. El Kholi, Susann. Lektüre in Frauenkonventen des ostfränkisch-deutschen Reiches vom 8. Jahrhundert bis zur Mitte des 13. Jahrhundert. Würzburger Wissenschaftliche Schridten 203. Würzburg: Königshausen and Neuman, 1997. Fassler, Margot. “Who Was Adam of St. Victor? The Evidence of the Sequence Manuscripts.” Journal of the American Musicological Society 37 (1984): 233–69. Gautier, Léon. Oeuvres Poétiques d’Adam de Saint-Victor. Paris: Librairie Victor Palmé, 1881. Griffiths, Fiona. Female Spirituality and Intellect in the Twelfth and Thirteenth Centuries: A Case Study of Herrad of Hohenbourg. Cambridge University, unpublished dissertation, 1998. Idoux, M. “Relations d’Étival avec les monastères Alsacians d’Andlau et de Hohenbourg.” Annales de la Société d’Emulation du Département des Vosges 89 (1913): 3–108. Lehmann, Paul. “Eine Sammlung mittellateinischer Gedichte aus dem Ende des 12. Jahrhunderts.” Erforschung des Mittelalters 4 (1961): 283–316. McKitterick, Rosamond. “Women and Literacy in the Early Middle Ages.” In Books Scribes and Learning in the Frankish Kingdoms, 6th–9th Centuries, edited by Rosamond McKitterick, 13. Aldershot, U.K.: Variorum, 1994. Wilmart, André. “Poèmes de Guatier de Châtillon dans un manuscrit de Charleville.” Revue bénédictine 49 (1937): 121–69; 322–65.

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Anonymous Lives: Documents from the Benedictine Convent of Sant Pere de les Puelles Linda McMillin

In the emerging canon of famous female writers of the Middle Ages, you will not find Aldagarda, Ermessenda de Palomars, or Saurina Suau, the women whose words are recorded in this chapter. The literary output of each was limited to a single document, 240, 170, and 540 words, respectively. However, they are far more “typical” of the way in which the majority of medieval women “wrote” in Latin than are the texts of most of the other women appearing in this volume. As residents of Barcelona, the spoken language of these three women was most likely Catalan. As members of the religious community of Sant Pere de les Puelles, all three would have daily chanted the official church Latin of the liturgy. Perhaps they read and maybe even copied various theological and devotional Latin texts as well. But only a single moment of composition survives for each woman—the moment when each needed to legally record a fiscal transaction with the religious institution of which she was a part.1 By writing these documents in Latin they become exemplars of the large number of people, both male and female, with no scholarly or literary ambitions who employed the language to conduct the daily business of medieval life. Founded in the tenth century, the Benedictine abbey of Sant Pere de les Puelles survives into modern times. Its name can be translated “Saint Peter of the girls,” or, better, “of the maidens,” and it correctly identifies the community as one of nuns. The original site of the monastery in the Plaça de Sant Pere was outside the city walls of Barcelona in the tenth century and just inside the thirteenthcentury city fortifications. Presently located a few blocks away from a major street, the via Layetana, in the modern urban center, the tenth-century church still stands and is used by the parish of Sant Pere. The monastic community, however, moved in the nineteenth century to its present location on calle Angli in the 265

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Barcelona suburb of Sarria. In 1945, the convent celebrated a millennium of existence. It continues to be a large and lively community today.2 The continuous survival of any community of women for over one thousand years is a remarkable and commendable feat. Many periods in Sant Pere’s history deserve to be narrated and celebrated: from the mythic deeds of Abbess Madrui, who survived kidnapping by Muslims in the ninth century, to the community’s perseverance through the changing fortunes of the Spanish Civil War in modern times. The documents presented here were written in the High Middle Ages, when the convent established the strength and traditions that would see it through a millennium. During the twelfth and thirteenth centuries, times of consolidation and prosperity, the community maintained an average membership of fifty nuns. Sant Pere’s endowment included abundant rural landholdings, along with mills, ovens, urban buildings, and at least one market. By the end of the thirteenth century, the convent had embarked on an ambitious and expensive building project to construct a new cloister. In the twelfth and thirteenth centuries, Catalunya, of which Barcelona is a part, grew and prospered.3 In 1137, the count of Barcelona married the heiress of the throne of the kingdom of Aragon; the union of these two dynasties produced a series of count-kings who played key roles in the reconquest of the Iberian Peninsula. Pere II was instrumental in the triumph of the Christian army over the Muslims at the battle of Las Navas de Tolosa in 1212.4 His son Jaume I (called the Conqueror) added the Balearic Islands (1229) and the region of Valencia (1238) to the domain of the Crown of Aragon. Sicily and Corsica entered the realm before 1350. While Barcelona’s rulers were conquering territories, Catalan merchants were competing with those of Genoa and Venice for dominance in Mediterranean trade. The resulting economic growth and expansion of the city of Barcelona was marked by the construction of new city walls beginning in the middle of the thirteenth century, transforming Sant Pere from a rural to an urban monastery. For the most part, the medieval nuns of Sant Pere prayed and prospered anonymously. The community produced no saints or writers. Its archives are filled with parchments recording bills of sale, donations, rental agreements, and litigation rather than mystical visions, scholarly treatises, musical scores, or personal correspondence. The names of individual nuns appear in the written record most often in official signatures, as when the entire community signed in approval of the sale of convent property. The fragments of “personal stories” associated with a few of these names are recorded by chance, background noise to the dominant discourse of economic activity. The Sant Pere archives preserve the three documents below because they record fiscal transactions in which three different women, each of whom spent some part of her life as a nun of Sant Pere, made donations of property to the convent. And, by happy chance, these documents provide a few clues to the life circumstances of each woman and her relationship to the community of Sant Pere.

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The first two documents were written when their authors joined the convent of Sant Pere: Aldagarda in 1142 and Ermessenda de Palamors in 1201. While at least 266 nuns lived behind the cloister’s walls during the twelfth and thirteenth centuries, only fifteen surviving parchments describe the entrance of individual women.5 Of these, thirteen record the voices of relatives, most often parents, donating land on behalf of, or along with, a new novice. In contrast, Aldagarda and Ermessenda made donations on their own behalf. Moreover, in addition to presenting property to the convent, they each included a “profession” indicating their willingness to commit to the traditional vows of Benedictine life. Aldagarda’s was a late vocation. The names of her seven adult sons are recorded in the document, with one son old enough to be abbot of a neighboring monastery. Her sons had two different last names, an indication that Aldagarda married twice. She began her statement with a personal promise of “obedience and stability and the conversion of my life” made to Lady Guilia, the abbess of Sant Pere. Aldagarda’s vows are the earliest recorded from the convent and make this parchment a treasured relic for the contemporary community.6 Aldagarda went on to donate a plot of land to the convent. She gave a thorough description of the property: its assets, location, and boundaries. She inherited the land from her parents. Legally, upon her death, this land should have gone to her sons. However, she was adamant that the land be given to the convent and included a variety of clauses above and beyond those notarial formulas usually included in donation documents. The most threatening was an injunction that anyone who dared to tamper with her desire must pay the convent back fourfold. In this way, she made her intentions for her property crystal clear. She then secured the agreement of her sons who signed away their rights to this land. Her financial arrangements thus supported her spiritual commitment to the community, and she chose to favor her adopted sisters rather than to honor the traditional rights of her sons. There are fewer clues to the life circumstances of Ermessenda de Palamors, who entered Sant Pere in 1201. She too donated property—a more substantial amount than Aldagarda—along with money to the convent. But the document mentions no parents, siblings, children, or any other relatives who might have had an interest in her wealth or who might have impeded or supported her vocation. She acted on her own and gave herself “body and soul” to the community. Her recorded vows are less elegant than those of Aldagarda, but they touch all the right notes: obedience, stability, renunication of personal wealth. Both Aldagarda and Ermessenda disappeared into the anonymity of the cloister. They never held office, acted as witnesses, or signed any other documents. But their singular texts do show that at least two women, each of some independence and wealth, chose to enter the medieval convent of Sant Pere. This brings up the vexed question of “vocation” in the medieval world. What did it mean to “choose” to enter the convent of Sant Pere? Modern stereotypes often populate medieval monasteries with reluctant inmates forced into religious life by

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coercive parents or economic necessity. While one must be careful not to project a twentieth-century esteem of individual freedom onto medieval families, it is clear from the few surviving Sant Pere documents that some women embraced the cloister through their own volition. Other women were at least consulted in vocational deliberations.7 Entering a monastery, like contracting a marriage, was most commonly a family decision, however. Few women would have had Ermessenda’s apparent autonomy. And while Aldagarda secured the support of her children, younger potential novices would need to contend with parental desires. The wealtheir the family, the higher the stakes in the vocational decisions of its children, both male and female. Birth order, health, talent, and piety of individual children along with familial social and political aspirations all played a role in family deliberations. But medieval hagiographic accounts record more instances of children entering religious life over the protests of parents than vice versa. The best example of a family discussion of vocation in the documents associated with Sant Pere can be found in the thirteenth-century will of Berenguer Vic. Vic had two daughters. One he made his universal heir; the other he provided with one hundred pieces of gold and the directive that she was to enter the convent of Sant Pere. The choice as to which daughter was to be an heiress and which a nun was left to his wife.8 Vic further stated that if neither daughter became a nun then the two would share his estate as equal heirs. Here, then, is a case in which the wishes and opinions of father, mother, and daughters were brought to bear on a life’s decision. The final document below is the will of Suarina Suau, dated 1256. In a cache of fiscal documentation, wills most richly reveal the words and intentions of individual men and women. Of the twenty-five wills in the medieval archives of Sant Pere, five are written by women.9 However, Saurina’s is the only testament authored by a member of the convent. The document reveals a variety of details about Suarina’s life. She had been married to Ferrer Suau, but she was now widowed. She had three daughters, one of whom also entered religious life. In addition, Saurina controlled a considerable amount of wealth to distribute to her heirs. Saurina’s will follows the standard medieval format. She began by identifying herself and making assurances that she was competent to undertake this action. She then appointed two executors, both Barcelona canons and so likely leaders in the local community. She went on to make provisions for the payment of her debts. Then came her pro anima bequests. In this section of medieval wills people provided funds for prayer, other sacramental actions, and charitable work to be done on behalf of their souls to speed their journey out of purgatory and on to heaven.10 Most often an individual would spread his/her bequests over several religious organizations, tapping some male and female, larger and smaller, contemplative and charitable foundations. Such a diversification of one’s pro anima portfolio gave some assurance that whichever group was most in God’s favor at the moment would be interceding on one’s behalf. The largest bequest went to the

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foundation that would handle one’s funeral—a practice that could even lead to litigation between religious houses over burial rights. Acting to avoid such conflicts in 1250, the convent of Sant Pere entered an agreement with the Dominican house of Santa Caterina, which gave Sant Pere parishioners permission to be interred by the Dominicans as long as the Dominicans gave back to Sant Pere one-sixth of the burial bequest.11 Saurina decided to buy pro anima shares only in Sant Pere’s stock. She wished to be buried at the monastery, have masses said there on her behalf, and have a cloth purchased for one of its altars. After providing for her debts and her immortal soul, Saurina distributed the rest of her quite substantial estate. She gave a cash gift to her sister. She then stipulated that a large monetary sum derived from both her personal goods and the marriage gift (dower) given to her by her deceased husband be divided into four equal parts: one for each daughter and the fourth for the convent of Sant Pere, “as if it were one of my legitimate children.” Anything left in her estate over and above this sum, Saurina also bequeathed to the convent. Here is another case of a woman choosing to give to the convent wealth that by traditional rights should belong to her children. That Saurina designated funds from her dower for the convent was particularly problematic. This dower supported a widow for the duration of her life but then became part of the paternal inheritance of her children. Saurina clearly knew that she was acting unconventionally and created an alternative plan if her first idea proved untenable—namely, to leave the bulk of her estate to the daughter who was a sister nun of Sant Pere. This ensured the convent would receive a large share of her estate. She also exhorted her executors to ensure that the division was made between daughters and convent. If they were not up to the task, she asked that Barcelona’s bishop be called in to implement her will. People in the Middle Ages often made their wills with death impending. Saurina was no exception. Writing her testament in September, she had passed away by December. Unlike the sons of Aldagarda, who approved their mother’s gift to Sant Pere, Saurina’s two married daughters, Guillema and Geralda, contested the will at once. The resulting compromise between these daughters and Sant Pere was worked out amicably enough with Bernat de Piraria acting as one of the arbiters along with another Barcelona canon.12 The convent did not become a coheir with Saurina’s daughters. Rather, Saurina’s estate was divided among her three daughters with the convent ostensibly getting the one-third coming to the nun, Berengaria. In addition, the convent paid Guillema and Geralda a lump sum and then kept all Saurina’s moveable goods—items likely to have been already in the possession of the convent. Aldagarda, Ermessenda, and Suarina all employed scribes to physically write down their statements. Just as modern Americans consult professionals in composing wills, contracts, and sales agreements, so too residents of twelfth- and thirteenth-century Barcelona hired professional notaries to create similar legal records. Each of the over five hundred documents from these centuries in Sant Pere’s

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archives was written by professional scribes.13 Such practice obfuscates the process by which each woman “authored” her document. Did she compose the Latin? Did she dictate every word? Or did she present only in broad terms, and in vernacular Catalan, what needed to be said and trust the rest to the scribe? The answers are not clear. The majority of the Latin in each document follows common notarial formulas, and parallel phasing can be found in other wills and land transfers.14 However, the language becomes much more idiosyncratic in sections that articulate unique requests and concerns: when Aldagarda threatens those who would interfere with her land donation, when Ermessenda vows her life to the convent, when Saurina searches for alternate ways to donate the majority of her estate to Sant Pere. The struggle to find the right combination of Latin words to express these difficult sentiments may belong to scribe or woman. But the will expressed and the desires voiced are clearly those of Aldagarda, Ermessenda, and Suarina. Legal Latin, the discourse of fiscal transactions, can often appear to be sterile and impersonal. It describes the world of economics, law, politics, officialdom—a world considered the province of men. Difficult to master and often requiring a professional guide, this discourse is a conduit by which power over property and goods can be asserted. Aldagarda, Ermessenda, and Suarina knew this and actively manipulated the official Latin discourse of the medieval world to place themselves and their wealth in the hands of a woman’s community. As a result, Aldagarda and Ermessenda successfully carried out their vocational and fiscal desires, though not without the aid of indulgent sons and the absence of relatives, respectively. Suarina had already gained her vocational objective; the distribution of her wealth, however, did not follow her plan. While she failed in this latter objective, she nevertheless did manage to raise two daughters who also had facility in Latin legal discourse and could beat their mother at her own game. NOTES 1. 2.

Arxiu de Sant Pere de les Puelles (hereafter ASPP), parchments 75, 114, and 284. For a brief general history of the monastery see Antonio Paulí Meléndez, El real monasterio de San Pedro de las Puellas de Barcelona (Barcelona: Bartres, 1945). The actual founding of the monastery is the subject of the Chronicle of Sant Pere de les Puelles, a romanticized version of the early history of the convent redacted in the late thirteenth century. This chronicle has been studied by Miquel Coll i Alentorn in “La crònica de Sant Pere de les Puelles,” in I Col-loqui d’història del monaquisme catala (Santes Creus: Publicacions de l’Arxiu Bibliogràfic de Santes Crues, 1969), II, pp. 35–50. The earliest documentary reference is to the consecration of the monastery’s church in 945. The dating and authenticating of this document is the focus of Fredrico Udina Martorell’s article: “El milenario de real monsterio de San Pedro de las Puellas y el acta de consagración de su primitivo templo,” Boletín de la Real Academia de Buenas Letras de Barceiona 18 (1945):

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4. 5. 6.

7.

8.

9.

10.

11. 12.

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218–44. Maria Montserrat Cabré wrote an excellent two-volume thesis on Sant Pere for the tenth and eleventh centuries: “El monacat feminí a la Barcelona de l’alta edat mitjana: Sant Pere de les Puelles, segles X-XI,” Tesis de licenciatura en historia, Universitat de Barcelona, 1985. My own work on Sant Pere includes: “Sant Pere de les Puelles: A Medieval Women’s Community,” The American Benedictine Review 47 (1996): 200–22; “Sacred and Secular Politics: The Convent of Sant Pere de les Puelles in Thirteenth-Century Barcelona,” in Iberia and the Mediterranean World of the Middle Ages, ed. Paul Chevedden and Donald Kagey (Lieden: Brill, 1996), II, pp. 225–37; “Gender and Monastic Autonomy in Thirteenth-Century Barcelona: Abbess vs. Bishop,” Journal of Medieval History 18 (1992): 267–78. A good general survey is Thomas Bisson, The Medieval Crown of Aragon: A Short History (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1986). See also J. N. Hillgarth, The Spanish Kingdoms, vol. 1 (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1976), especially the annotated bibliography, pp. 420–24, 429–32. For a concentrated look at the city of Barcelona and its rising commercial class see Stephen Bensch, Barcelona and Its Rulers, 1096–1291 (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1995). Peter is the second of Aragon, the first of Catalonia. See McMillin, “Sant Pere: A Medieval Women’s Community,” for a complete discussion of convent life at Sant Pere in the twelfth and thirteenth centuries. Starting in the fifteenth century, each nun of Sant Pere wrote out a “Letter of Profession” at the time of her final vows. These letters are kept in a special section of the archives. While not conforming exactly to this later practice, the words of Aldagarda are roughly equivalent to these later professions and her parchment is placed first in this section of the archives. Again see McMillin, “Sant Pere: A Medieval Women’s Community.” Penelope Johnson, Equal in Monastic Profession, has an interesting discussion of individual choice versus family strategies (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1991), pp. 13–34. Arxiu Diocesà de Barcelona-Colecio Santa Ana, pp. 21–38, “alteram filiarum mearum illam scilicet quam uxor mea voluerit collocet pro monacha in monasterio Sancti Petri Barchinone et dimito eiusdem filie mee pro supplemente et legitime paterne centum aureos.” A larger study of Barcelona wills from the twelfth and thirteenth centuries found women writing thirty-two percent of the surviving testaments. See Bensch, Barcelona and Its Rules, p. 247. For more on women’s wills in medieval Catalunya see Carme Batlle Gallart and Marta Palomares, “La història de la dona a la Barcelona del segle XIII, segons els testaments,” Universitas Tarraconensis 10 (1992): 15–31; and Heidi Vierow, “The Will of Raimonda: Testament of a Woman in the Twelfth Century,” Manuscripta 36 (1992): 214–23. For more on this topic see James Brodman, “What Is a Soul Worth? Pro anima Bequests in the Municipal Legislation of Reconquest Spain,” Medievalia et humanistica 20 (1994): 15–23. ASPP 252. ASPP 282.

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13.

For a discussion of professional notaries and their practices in medieval Catalonia see Robert I. Burns, Society and Documentation in Crusader Valencia (Princeton, N.J.: Princeton University Press, 1985), pp. 33–43. See also José Bono, Historia del derecho notarial español, 2 vols. to date (Madrid: Junta de Decanos de los Colegios Notariales de España, 1979); Francesc Carreras I Candi, “Desenrotllament de la institució notarial a Catalunya in lo segle XIII,” in his Miscelánea histórica calalana (Barcelona: Casa Provincial de Caridad, 1905–1906), II, pp. 323–60; José Antonio Martín Fuertes, “Los notarios en León durante el siglo XIII,” in Notariado público v documento privado de los orígenes al siglo XIV, Actas de VII Congresso Internacional de Diplomática (Valencia: Generalitat Valenciana, Conselleria de Cultura, Educació i Ciència Diputacions d’Alacant, Castelló i València, 1989), I, pp. 597–613; and María Josefa Sanz Fuentes, “Documento notarial y notariado en la Austurias del siglo XIII,” in Notariado público y documento privado (q.v.), I, pp. 245–80. 14. The best summary of current scholarship on notarial Latin, Latin typology, and formulas for Catalonia is Burns, Society and Documentation, pp. 112–15, 134–50. See also Rafael Conde y Delgado de Molina, “Análisis de la tipología documental del siglo XIV: fuentes del Archivo de la corona de Aragón,” Cuadernos de historia 8 (1977): 47–69; Felipe Mateu y Llopis, Estil literari dels documents I formularis diplomàtics durant els segles forals (Valencia: Anubar, 1964); Santiago Villimer, Estudios de latín medieval: Documentos de la cancillería castellana, siglos XIV y XV (Valladolid: Universidad de Valladolid, Secretariado de Publicaciones, 1976); Roger Wright, Late Latin and Early Romance in Spain and Carolingian France (Liverpool: F. Cairns, 1982); and Michel Zimmerman, “Protocoles et préambules dans les documents catalans du Xe au XIIe siècle: Évolution diplomatique et signification spirituelle,” Mélanges de la Casa de Velázquez 11 (1975): 51–79.

ENTRANCE DONATION AND PROFESSION OF ALDAGARDIS, 1142 Ego soror Aldagardis promitto obedientiam et stabilitatem et conversionem morum meorum secundum regulam Sancti Benedicti coram deo et angelis euis in cenobio Sancti Petri Barchinone in presentia domine Guilie abbatissa. Dono siquidem domino deo et prefato cenobio sancti petri alodium proprium meum cultum et uncultum cum arboribus mihi adventis iure paterno. Est autem predictum alodium domos terras et vineas separati positas et ortes cum aquis et aquarum meatibus in comitatu barchinonensi in territorio vallensi in parochia sancti stephani in termino de valle de Ariolph. Hunc namque affrontationes ab oriente et a meridie et ab occiduo stratas publicas. A circio ortos et ortales ultra ipsam aqua. Quantum infra istas affrontationes ego habeo et possideo per vocem genitorum meorum cum ingressibus et egressibus integrum. Ut dici vel intelligi potest melius ad utilitatem perlibenti cenobii de meo iure, in dominum et potestatem tripartitis dei et sancti petri, trado in manu iamdicte abbatisse et sororum eius ad perpetuum plenissimum et liberum alodium iamdicti cenobii perpetuo possidendum. Secure et quieti in sana pace. Sine ullius contrarietatis obstaculo. Sique

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utrique sexus persona contra hanc mee donationis paginam ad infringendum venire temptaverit nihil sibi prosit per solo temerario ausi supradicta in consimili loco saepedicto cenobio in quadruplum restituat. Et insuper haec presens mee donationis pagina omni tempore maneat standi et firma. Que est acta x kalens decembris. Anno ab incarnatione domina cxlii post millenum, Regni vero Lodorci iunioris vi. Signum Adalgardis quobis punctati laudando firmavit firmarique rogavit. Signum Petri Poncti de Falchs, Signum Bernardi de Falchs, Signum Geraldis abbatis Sancti Cecilie, Signum Arberti de Falchs, Signum Arnalli de Olo, Signum Berengarii de Olo, Signum Ermengaudi de Olo, Nos filii eius Adalgardis iamdicet qui hoc laudamus et confirmamus. Signum Arberti de Liciano. Signum Petri Arberti de Liciano. Signum Guillermi presbiteri. Signum Petri presbiteri qui hoc scripsit die et anno quo supra. ENTRANCE DONATION AND PROFESSION OF ERMISSENDA DE PALAMORS, 1201 Notum sit cunctis quod ego Ermessen de Palamors de bono animo et bona voluntate dono domino Deo et cenobio Sancti Petri de Barchinona meum corpus et animam meam cum omni meo manso quem tenet pro me Berengarius de Terracia cum omnibus suis affrontationibus et tenedonibus suis cum ingressibus et egressibus sicut ego habeo et habere debeo in Comitatu Barchinone in Penitense sicut ego assignavi et hostendi Domine mee abatisse et aliis probis hominibus advenit mihi predictus mansus per paternam vocem. Et adhuc super hoc dono Sancto Petro CCCCLX solidos dinariorum bone monete curribilis Barchinone et de his numeris nichil remansit super me. Et ego Ermessen convenio esse obediens domine mee abatisse et aliis sororibus vestris in regula Sancti Benedicti. Ita tamen quod ego Ermessen in alio loco vitam meam commutare non possim. Et ego adhuc relinquo omnes seculi vanitates et numquam de hac ora in antea nullum proprium habeam et est predictum mansum in loco nominato prope Turrebezes. Actum est hoc mense Aprilis anno ab incarnatione domine MCCI. Signum Ermessendis de Palamaris qui hoc donum laudo et firmo. Signum Bernardi capellani Sancti Petri de supra. Signum Petri de Cleriana. Signum Guillermi de Cegrundes.

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Signum Petri presbyteri qui hoc scripsit et litteris supra positer in linea vi, vii, die et anno quo est supra. WILL OF LADY SAURINA, WIDOW OF FERRER SUAU AND NUN OF SANT PERE, 1256 In Christi nomine ego Domina Saurina uxor quondam Ferrarii Suavis monialis cenobii Sancti Petri Puellarum Barchinone in meo pleno sensu et bona memoria facio et ordino meum testamentum. In quo eligo manumissores meos Petrum de Meserata et Bernardum de Pirariis canonicos Barchinone quibus rogando precipio et plenam potestaem confero quod si me mori contigerit antequam aliud testamentum faciam, ipsi distribuant et ordinent omnia bona mea mobilia et immobilia sicut in hoc testamento quod est ultima voluntas mea invenerint ordinatum. Primum volo et mando quod de bonis meis omnia debita mea solvantur et injurie mee restituantur sicut scripta sunt in instrumento inde confecto et si plura alia debita vel injurie quam scripta sunt in dicto instrumento apparuerint in quibus ego tenear et que possint probari per testes vel instrumenta vel per aliam legitimam declaracionem solvantur et restituantur secundem deum et forum perniale sine malicia et strepitu judicii. Accipio pro anima mea et sepultura quadringentos solidos monete Barchinone de quibus dimitto cenobio Sancti Petri viginti solidos cum corpore meo ibi sepeliendo. Dimitto ebdomedariis et omnibus aliis clericis benefaciatis eiusdem cenobii uniciuque decem solidos. Et dimitto ad celebrandas missas in dicto monasterio ducentos solidos qui tradantur domine abbatisse dicti cenobii et quod ipsa de ipsis ducentis solidis faciat celebrari missam. Volo etiam et mando quod sepultura mea fiat honorifice ad noticiam manumissorum meorum. Et facta mea sepultura et solutis dictis ducentis solidis in celebracione missarum, de residuo dictorum quadringentorum solidorum volo et mando quod ematur unum pallium in servitio altaris beate Marie constructi in ecclesia Sancti Petri. Dimitto Berengarie sorori mee viginti morabatinos. Dimitto Guillelme et Berengarie moniali cenobii Sancti Petri et Geralde filiabus meis et predicto monasterio tamquam uni filiarum mearum legitimarum unicuique earum et eidem monasterio pertinenti in ipsis mille et centum morabatinis quos ego atuli in honore dicto Ferrario Suavis marito meo tempore nuptiarum nostrarum et etiam in omnibus aliis bonis meis que ego habeo vel habere debeo ubique aliqua ratione. Instituens dictas filias meas et dictum monasterium scilicet quemlibet ipsarum filiarum mearum et iddem monasterium michi heredes in eo quod eis dimitto. Et deducta et soluta dictis filiabus meis et dicto monasterio legitima eis pertinente in dicto meo sponsalitio et in aliis bonis meis, totum residuum ipsius mei sponsalicii et aliorum bonorum meorum dimitto dicto cenobio Sancti Petri; et si forte aliquo modo vel ratione dictum monasterium non posset vel deberet habere ea que sibi dimitto vel saltem partem illorum, dimitto illud quod residuum fuerit (scilicet id quod monasterium non poterit vel debebit capere

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ex isto meo legato) dicte Berengarie filie mee moniali eiusdem monasterii, hiis tamen omnibus salvis ex isto meo legato ipsi monasterio de omnibus bonis meis que sibi possum dimittere vel legere que omnia sibi dimitto. Item volo et mando quod dicta legitima dividatur inter filias meas et dictum monasterium ad cognitionem dictorum manumissorum meorum sic quod non possit aliqua causa vel ambiguitas oriri inter ipsas filias meas et dictum monasterium. Et supplico domino episcopo Barchinone quod ipse sit adjutor protector et deffensor huius mei testamenti et si dicti manumissores mei fuerint perfidi vel necligentes in hiis predictis ipse qui pater et deffensor est animarum nostrarum faciat hanc meam ordinacionem in omnibus plenarie adimpleri. Actum est hoc iii idus Octobris, anno domini millesimo ducentesimo quinquagesimo sexto. Signum Domine Suarina uxoris quondam Ferrariis Suavis, monialis monasteris Sancti Petri Puellarum Barchinone qui hoc testimentum laudo et firmo et a manumissoribus meis firmari rogo. Signum Petri de Mesereta Barchinone canonoci. Signum Bernardi de Pirariis Barchinone cononici. Testes huis rie sunt Bernardus de Galifa presbyter, Petrus presbyter, Berengarius de Casalibus presbyter. Signum Mathei Lupeti notum publici Barchinone qui hoc scribi fecit et clausit die et anno prefix.

TRANSLATIONS BY LINDA MCMILLIN Entrance donation and profession of Aldagarda, 1142 I, sister Aldagarda,1 promise obedience and stability and the conversion of my life in accordance with the rule of Saint Benedict before the face of God and his angels in the monastery of Sant Pere in Barcelona in the present of Lady Guilia, abbess. Moreover, I give to the Lord God and the said monastery of Sant Pere my own plot of land, cultivated and uncultivated, with trees, which came to me through my paternal inheritance. The said plot of land with buildings, fields, vines in a separate location, and gardens with water and streams is in the county of Barcelona, in the territory of Vallès, in the parish of Sant Esteve, in the boundaries of the valley of Ariolph.2 This place, in fact, is bordered by public streets to the east and to the south and to the west, and on the north by gardens

1

When possible, I have given the Catalan equivalent for proper names of people and places. I have not been able to locate this valley nor find an equivalent Catalan place-name.

2

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and little gardens above this water. Everything inside these boundaries I have and possess by parental inheritance with all entrances and exits. So that it can be better said and understood for the benefit of this very generous monastery concerning my will, according to the lordship and power of the tripartite God and Saint Peter, I bring into the hands of the said abbess and her sisters this land to be possessed fully and freely by this monastery forever securely and quietly in all peace without any conflicting obstacles. And if any person should be tempted to challenge this donation, to infringe on it, let there be no advantage to him through the boldness which he has dared and let him make fourfold restitution to the said convent. And moreover, let this, my present donation, remain standing and firm for all time. This is done 10 kalends December, in the year of the incarnation of the Lord 142 after the millennium3 in the true reign of Lodorco Junior VI.4 Signed Aldagarda who on this spot signs and swears in confirmation. Signed Pere Ponç de Fuchs, Signed Bernat de Fuchs, Signed Gerard abbot of Saint Cecilia, Signed Arbert de Fuchs, Signed Arnau de Olo, Signed Berenguer de Olo, Signed Ermengaud de Olo, We the children of the aforesaid Aldagardis who approve and confirm this. Signed Arbert de Liciano. Signed Pere Arbert de Liciano. Signed Guillem priest. Signed Pere, priest who wrote this on the day and year above. Entrance donation and profession of Ermissenda de Palamors, 1201 Let it be known to all that I, Ermessenda de Palamors, of good spirit and good will give to Lord God and the monastery of Sant Pere of Barcelona my body and soul with all my country estate which Berenguer de Terrassa holds for me, with 3

This construction for recording the year, counting forward from the millenium, is unique to this document. The constructions in the following two documents are much more typical. The standard reference for chronology in Iberian documents is José Vives Gatell with Jacinto Agustíy Casanovas and Pedro Voltes Bou, Manual de cronología española y universal, Escuela de estudios medievales, estudios 25 (Madrid: n.p., 1952). Robert I. Burns offers a short, cogent discussion of dating for contemporary documents in the Crown of Aragon royal archives in his chapter on “Chronology,” in Society and Documentation, pp. 91–96. 4 This is likely Louis VII of France.

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all its borders and its holdings, with entrances and exits as I have or should have in the County of Barcelona in Penedes, as I have given and exchanged to my Lady Abbess, and the said estate with all its good people came to me through paternal inheritance. And, moreover, in addition to this I give to Sant Pere 460 sous of good Barcelona monetary currency5 and of this amount nothing more remains to me. And I, Ermessenda, pledge to obey my Lady Abbess and all your sisters in the rule of St. Benedict. Moreover, I, Ermessenda, will not change residences for the rest of my life. And furthermore, I give up all secular vanities and will possess nothing of my own from this land that used to be mine and this estate in the location named near Turrebezes.6 This is done in the month of April, in the year of the incarnation of the Lord 1201. Signed, Ermessenda de Palomars who this gift confirms and signs. Signed, Bernat, Chaplain of Sant Pere above. Signed, Pere de Cleriana. Signed, Guillem de Cegrundes. Signed, Pere, priest who writes this and who inserted letters above lines 6 and 7,7 on the day and year above. Will of Lady Saurina, widow of Ferrer Suau and nun of Sant Pere, 1256 In the name of Christ I, Lady Saurina, widow of Ferrer Suau, nun of the monastery of Sant Pere de les Puelles in Barcelona, in my full senses and with good memory make and order my testament. In this I appoint as my executors Pere de Mesurata and Bernat de Piraria, Barcelona canons, whom I have nominated and instructed and to whom I give full power, in the event that my death arrives before I make another testament, to distribute and order all my moveable and unmovable goods as they find in this testament which was written according to my last desire. First, I wish and order that from my goods all my debts be paid and restitution be made for injuries I have caused as they are written in a document which I put together, and if any additional debts or injuries other than those written in this document appear which I have or could be proven to have incurred by witnesses or documents or through some other legitimate declaration, they should be paid or

5

Trying to translate medieval monetary sums into meaningful modern equivalents is notoriously difficult. The curious reader can begin with Stephen Bensch’s appendix on “Coinage and Exchange Values,” in Barcelona and Its Rulers, pp. 412–13, and follow the footnotes from there. Suffice it to say that this is not an insignificant amount of money. 6 I have not been able to locate this place nor find an equivalent Catalan place-name. 7 In the original parchment a line is inserted above the original text. The notary is assuring his readers that he added this line at the time the document was written and that this was not a later alteration.

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restored according to God and society immediately without harm and judicial clamor. I put aside on behalf of my soul and burial 400 sous of Barcelona money of which I give the monastery of Sant Pere 20 sous with which to bury my body there. I give the officials and all other clerical benefactors of this convent 10 sous each. And I give for the celebration of masses in the said monastery 200 sous which is to be given to the abbess of this monastery so she can see that masses are celebrated. Also I wish and order that my burial is made honorably according to the specifications of my executors. And with my burial completed and the distribution of the said 200 sous for the celebration of masses, with whatever is left over of the said 400 sous, I wish and order that one altarcloth be bought for service at the altar of Blessed Mary constructed in the church of Sant Pere. I give to Berengaria, my sister, 20 morabatins.8 I give to Guillema and Berengaria, nun of the monastery of Sant Pere, and Geralda, my daughters, and to the said monastery, as if it were one of my legitimate children, equally between them and this monastery, shares in this 1100 morabatins which I acquired in the land of the said Ferrer Suau, my husband, at the time of our marriage and also in any other goods which I have or should have anywhere for any reason. I institute that my said daughters and the said monastery—that is to say, whichever of these daughters survives me and this monastery—to be heirs from me in this that I give them. These shares having been deducted and given to my said daughters and the said monastery rightly from my said dower9 and all my goods, all the rest of my dower and all of my goods I give to the said monastery of Sant Pere. And if suddenly by some chance or reason the said monastery could not or should not have that which I give to it or at least a part of it, I give that which is leftover (that is to say this that the monastery could not or should not take from this my bequest) to the said Berengaria, my daughter, nun of this convent. Nevertheless I give safely to this monastery all that I can give or gather from all my goods in this my bequest. Likewise, I wish and order that this bequest be divided among my daughters and the said monastery with the knowledge of my said executors so no cause or ambiguity can arise between these daughters of mine and the said monastery. And I ask the lord Bishop of Barcelona that he be judge, protector, and defender of this my will and if my said executors are treacherous or negligent in this matter, he who is father and defender of our souls make this my will be implemented in all fullness. This is done the third ides of October, the year of our Lord 1256. 8

A morabatin is a larger monetary unit than a sous. One morabatin equals approximately 6.1 sous (Bensch, Barcelona and Its Rulers, p. 413). 9 I am following Bensch’s usage here in translating sponsalicium (pp. 260–75). Dower is the wealth brought to the marriage by the husband and guaranteed to the wife for her use in widowhood. This is not to be confused with a dowry, the wealth brought by the wife to the marriage.

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Signed, Lady Suarina, widow of Ferrer Suau, nun of the monastery of Sant Pere de les Puelles of Barcelona, who this will confirms and signs and to my executors strongly commands. Signed, Pere de Mesurata, Barcelona Canon. Signed, Bernat de Piraria, Barcelona Canon. The witnesses to this matter are Bernat de Galifa, priest, Pere, priest, Berenguer de Casals, priest. Signed Mateu Lupeti, Barcelona public notary, who made and ended this writing on the day and year above. BIBLIOGRAPHY Primary Sources Barcelona. Arxiu Diocesà de Barcelona. Collectió Santa Ana. Document [Pergamins], pp. 21–38. Barcelona. Arxiu de Sant Pere de les Puellas. Documents [Pergamins] 75, 114, 252, 282, 284.

Secondary Works Batlle Gallart, Carme, and Marta Palomares. “La història de la dona a la Barcelona del segle XIII, segons els testaments.” Universitas Tarraconensis 10 (1992): 15–31. Bensch, Stephen. Barcelona and Its Rulers. 1096–1291. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1995. Bisson, Thomas. The Medieval Crown of Aragon: A Short History. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1986. Bono, José. Historia del derecho notarial español. 2 vols. to date. Madrid: Junta de Decanos de los colegios Notariales de España, 1979. Brodman, James. “What Is a Soul Worth? Pro anima Bequests in the Municipal Legislation of Reconquest Spain.” Medievalia et humanistica 20 (1994): 15–23. Burns, Robert I. Society and Documentation in Crusader Valencia. Princeton, N.J.: Princeton University Press, 1985. Cabré, Maria Montserrat. “El monacat feminí a la Barcelona de l’alta edat mitjana: Sant Pere de les Puelles, segles X–XI.” 2 vols. Tesis de licenciatura en historia, Universitat de Barcelona, 1985. Carreras I Candi, Francese. “Desenrotllament de la institució notarial a Catalunya in lo segle XIII.” In his Miscelánea histórica calalana. Barcelona: Casa Provincial de Caridad, 1905–1906, II. Coll i Alentorn, Miquel. “La crònica de Sant Pere de les Puelles.” In I Col-loqui d’història del monaquisme catala. Santes Creus: Publicacions de l’Arxiu Bibliogràfic de Santes Crues, 1969, II. Conde y Delgado de Molina, Rafael. “Análisis de la tipología documental del siglo XIV: Fuentes del Archivo de la corona de Aragón.” Cuadernos de historia 8 (1977): 47–69. Gatell, José Vives, with Jacinto Agustíy Casanovas and Pedro Voltes Bou. Manual de cronología española y universal. Escuela de estudios medievales, estudios, 25. Madrid: n.p., 1952.

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Hillgarth, J. N. The Spanish Kingdoms 1250–1516. 2 vols. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1976. Johnson, Penelope. Equal in Monastic Profession. Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1991. Martín Fuertes, José Antonio. “Los notarios en León durante el siglo XIII.” In Notariado público y documento privado de los orígenes al siglo XIV. Actas de VII Congresso Internacional de Diplomática. Valencia: Generalitat Valenciana, Conselleria de Cultura, Educació i Ciència Diputacions d’Alacant, Castelló i València, 1989, I. Mateu y Llopis, Felipe. Estil literari dels documents I formularis diplomàtics durant els segles forals. Valencia: Anubar, 1964. McMillin, Linda. “Gender and Monastic Autonomy in Thirteenth-Century Barcelona: Abbess vs. Bishop.” Journal of Medieval History 18 (1992): 267–78. ———. “Sacred and Secular Politics: The Convent of Sant Pere de les Puelles in Thirteenth-Century Barcelona.” In Iberia and the Mediterranean World of the Middle Ages, edited by Paul Chevedden and Donald Kagey. Lieden: Brill, 1996, II. ———. “Sant Pere de les Puelles: A Medieval Women’s Community.” American Benedictine Review 47 (1996): 200–22. Paulí Meléndez, Antonio. El real monasterio de San Pedro de las Puellas de Barcelona. Barcelona: Bartres, 1945. Sanz Fuentes, María Josefa. “Documento notarial y notariado en la Austurias del siglo XIII.” In Notariado público y documento privado (q.v.), I. Udina Martorell, Fredrico. “El milenario de real monsterio de San Pedro de las Puellas y el acta de consagración de su primitivo templo.” Boletín de la Real Academia de Buenas Letras de Barcelona 18 (1945): 218–44. Vierow, Heidi. “The Will of Raimonda: Testament of a Woman in the Twelfth Century.” Manuscripta 36 (1992): 214–223. Villimer, Santiago. Estudios de latín medieval: Documentos de la cancillería castellana, siglos XIV y XV. Valladolid: Universidad de Valladolid, Secretariado de Publicaciones, 1976. Wright, Roger, Late Latin and Early Romance in Spain and Carolingian France. Liverpool: F. Cairns, 1982. Zimmerman, Michel. “Protocoles et préambules dans les documents catalans du Xe au XIIe siècle: Évolution diplomatique et signification spirituelle.” Mélanges de la Casa de Velázauez 11 (1975): 51–79.

Street Mysticism: An Introduction to The Life and Revelations of Agnes Blannbekin Ulrike Wiethaus

The medieval period produced an unusual genre in the history of Christian women’s (Latinate) writing: the co-authored devotional text. Illiterate, semiLatinate, or non-Latinate female religious authors would dictate revelations, autobiographical reflections, letters, and devotional teachings to male scribes who often, but not always, also served as the female author’s confessor, secretary, mentor, and pupil. It is still a matter of contention how much the scribes influenced the composition of the written text. Each case of such collaboration must be studied carefully to determine the extent to which a female author controlled the final written product.1 As the product of a collaborative process, such devotional texts take a fascinating transitional position between oral transmissions of religious knowledge and the single-authored literary texts to which we are so accustomed today; because of their unique mode of production, co-authored texts deserve special attention and should be treated as legitimate literary outlets for medieval Christian women. Medieval women authors who employed male scribes include the German visionary Hildegard of Bingen (1098–1179), the Italian holy women Angela of Foligno (1248–1309) and Catherine of Siena (1347–1380), and the English lay woman Margery Kempe (ca. 1373–1438), to name just a few.2 The practice of co-authorship crosses boundaries not only of gender but also of religious orders (it can be found among the Benedictines, the Dominicans, the Franciscans), of class (noble and bourgeois), of geography, and the divide between laity and clerical culture. The Life and Revelations of Agnes Blannbekin exemplifies several characteristics of this hybrid genre: the admiration the male scribe often voiced for his female co-author; the close cooperation between two celibate members of the church who looked upon any encounter between men and women as potentially 281

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dangerous and sinful; the complementary roles women and men could play in medieval Christian spirituality and the authority each role permitted; the points of contact between “learned” (celibate, male, clerical) and “experiential” (female, monastic, semi-monastic, or lay) approaches to medieval spirituality and theology; and, finally, the complex ways in which women’s voices survived and became part of the written heritage of medieval Christian culture. In Agnes’s case, her anonymous scribe identified himself only as a “most insignificant and unworthy Brother of the Franciscan Order” (preface).3 He discloses that he is her confessor (chap. 38); according to him, Agnes repeatedly resisted sharing her extraordinary mystical experiences with him, and only after asking for and receiving affirmative signs from the Divine Presence did she proceed to pass information on to him. “And although she was strengthened by God through such signs, she almost always talked to me with fear and shyness, prompted by me with frequent requests” (chap. 38; see also chap. 37 below).4 The Franciscan scribe’s image of an ever-reluctant Agnes reproduces the humility formula required of women visionaries and should not be taken at face value. It protected both Agnes and her confessor from possible slander about their frequent contacts. It should surprise us if the formula would be missing, because in that case, both Agnes and her confessor would have violated medieval communal standards of appropriate public self-representation. Given other internal evidence, the large size of the unfinished manuscript (235 chapters that range from one paragraph to several pages) and the many instances in which Blannbekin emerges as an outspoken and confident religious agent and observer, we may safely assume that the relationship was mutually desired and that Agnes determined the course of the text more than the humility formula would let us believe. Furthermore, we should remember that medieval confessors were financially reimbursed for their services; the mendicants especially would receive gifts and alms from the women under their care. These financial and material transactions also contributed to greater equity in their relationship. Our knowledge of Agnes’s life-circumstances is only slightly greater than that of her scribe’s. We know her name, her choice to live as a beguine, her parents’ occupation (farmers), and the date of her death (15 May 1315); scholars speculate that she came from the Austrian village of Plambach.5 Although it is mentioned that she had associates and acquaintances and prayed in her own prayer cell, we do not know whether she lived by herself or with others. Given evidence from other medieval beguines, however, it is likely that she did live with other women.6 Much of her autobiographical information follows wellestablished patterns of thirteenth-century women’s mysticism: voluntary poverty, fasting, eucharistic piety, visions, ecstasies, auditions, prayers for others, and a strong attachment to the mendicant orders.7 What is highly unusual, however, and what makes this text so fascinating, is the vivid picture it paints of medieval religious life as it took place in the streets and marketplaces among ordinary people.

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This emphasis stands in stark contrast to what Barbara Newman has aptly called the beguines’ mystique courtoise or courtly mysticism.8 As chapter 118 demonstrates, the paradigm of courtly love was of little relevance to Agnes; instead of bride, Blannbekin preferred the image of a female head of the household, a trope we find already in the writings of the Brabant Cistercian author Beatrijs of Nazareth (1200–1268). Hers is a mysticism of the urban street rather than of the noble court. The selections chosen for translation reflect the wide range of concerns typical of urban social life. Due to a city’s greater flux of classes and inhabitants, Agnes reflects frequently and not without prejudice on Christian ethics and proper behavior, on the status of desirable “insiders” and mistrusted “outsiders” (such as Jews), thus demonstrating typical medieval anxieties and stereotypes. Since a medieval city afforded greater mobility to women, she is shown roaming the streets, crossing public spaces, visiting many churches. Daily activities such as the regular practice of blood-letting, preparing food in the kitchen, and the necessity to frequent the market and the apothecary become occasions for reflection and pious interpretation. Graphic images such as her description of cleaning her teeth with a knife and pulling out two flies illustrate Agnes’s alertness to the humdrum of daily life. Her piety is rich in images of strong religious women, including a vision of her own faith as a young woman dancing around the altar. Street mysticism also includes the seedier side of a medieval town, as the story of the priest who deflowers a virgin illustrates. And yet, heaven is still close to earth, as her thoughts on angels, St. Francis, and the future rewards for the poor demonstrate. Earth is a good and sacred place to be, despite all suffering (chap.1); and if God thought that this planet would be appropriate to provide the stuff of which His body was made, then in turn no part of God’s body would be insignificant enough to serve as object of reverence. And so Agnes received a vision of swallowing Christ’s foreskin, perhaps the most outrageous provocation to our postmedieval, puritanically shaped religious sensibilities. When the book appeared in print in the first third of the eighteenth century, this vision challenged the common view that the foreskin of Christ had remained on earth, where it could still be venerated in several churches in France, Italy, and Belgium. Some critical comments on the papacy (chap. 109 and 185) added to the critical reception of Agnes’s co-authored work and eventually led to the decision to take it out of circulation. It is only because of the very recent efforts of two contemporary scholars, Peter Dinzelbacher and Renate Vogler, that a critical edition of Agnes’s life and revelations has become available again to a broad audience.9 NOTES 1.

Joan M. Ferrante analyzes other forms of literary cooperation between men and women, especially cases in which women functioned as patrons of a male writer or instigated a particular writing project on a topic of their interest. The frequency of

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3.

4. 5.

6. 7.

8. 9.

Ulrike Wiethaus these female/male collaborations on literary texts challenges traditional notions on the exclusively masculine prerogative of authorship. See Joan M. Ferrante, To the Glory of Her Sex. Women’s Roles in the Composition of Medieval Texts (Bloomington: Indiana University Press, 1997), especially pp. 39–68, for a religious context. For individual case studies, see Catherine M. Mooney, ed., Gendered Voices: Medieval Saints and Their Interpreters (Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press, 1999). On Angela of Foligno, see Catherine M. Mooney, “The Authorial Role of Brother A. in the Composition of Angela of Foligno’s Revelations,” in Creative Women in Medieval and Early Modern Italy: A Religious and Artistic Renaissance, ed. E. Ann Matter and John Coakley (Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press, 1994), pp. 34–64. On the Franciscan order in late-thirteenth-century Vienna, see Peter Dinzelbacher, “Die Wiener Minoriten im ausgehenden 13. Jahrhundert nach dem Urteil der zeitgenössischen Begine Agnes Blannbekin,” in Bettelorden und Stadt. Bettelorden und stödtisches Leben im Mittelalter und in der Neuzeit, ed. Dieter Berg (Werl 1992), pp. 181–91. Et quamvis tot indiciis confortata a domino, tamen quasi semper cum timore et verecundia mihi referebat et exacta a me precibus frequenter. See Anneliese Stoklaska, “Die Revelationes der Agnes Blannbekin. Ein mystisches Unikat im Schrifttum des Wiener Mittelalters,” Jahrbuch des Vereins fur Geschichte der Stadt Wien 43 (1987):7–34), especially p. 10. Stoklaska also offers a careful analysis of the role of the scribe in the production of the text. Walter Simons, “The Beguine Movement in the Southern Low Countries: A Reassessment” (http://matrix.divinity.yale.edu/MatrixWebData/Simonse.txt). See Peter Dinzelbacher, “Die ‘Vita et Revelationes’ der Wiener Begine Agnes Blannbekin (d. 1315) im Rahmen der Viten-und Offenbarungsliteratur ihrer Zeit,” in Frauenmystik im Mittelalter, ed. Peter Dinzelbacher and Dieter R. Bauer (Ostfildern bei Stuttgart: Schwabenverlag, 1985), pp. 152–78. Barbara Newman, From Virile Woman to WomanChrist: Studies in Medieval Religion and Literature (Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press, 1995), chap. 5. Peter Dinzelbacher and Renate Vogeler, Leben und Offenbarungen der Wiener Begine Agnes Blannbekin (d. 1315) (Göppingen: Kümmerle Verlag, 1994).

THE LIFE AND REVELATIONS OF VENERABLE AGNES BLANNBEKIN Prologus auctoris in vitam et revelationes venerabilis Agnetis Blannbekin Confiteor tibi pater, domine coeli et terrae, quia abscondisti haec a sapientibus et prudentibus et revelasti ea parvulis, ita pater, quoniam sic fuit placitum ante te. Vere, domine, testimonia tua credibilia facta sunt nimis, quod cum simplicibus sermocinatio tua, et quod dixisti: “Ducam eam in solitudinem et loquar ad cor ejus.” Nam tu parvulis et humilibus tuis arcana revelare dignaris. Et cum simplicibus tuis ductis in solitudinem internae contemplationis secreta mysterii tui

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loquens multifariam multisque modis sicut olim patribus in prophetis ad aedificationem et consolationem credentium incerta et occulta sapientiae tuae manifestas. Igitur venerandae, adorandae et amandae majestati, veritati et bonitati tuae gratias referens, o beata trinitas, ad laudem tuam, gloriam et honorem et ad aedificationem fidei et ad nutrimentum devotionis et ad divini amoris incitamentum, ego pauperculus et indignus frater ordinis fratrum minorum ea, quae a sanctis et fide dignis personis, te, domine, eis revelante, didici vel didicero, conscribere cupio, te patrem luminum invocans, a quo omne datum optimum, et omne donum perfectum est, ut mihi dare velis sedium tuarum assistricem sapientiam, ut mecum sit, mecum laboret, mecum scribat, ut scribam, quod acceptum sit coram te, et veritatis limites non excedam. Amen. Cap. I. De elementis et creaturis et rebus Facta manu Domini super unam sanctam personam post missam publicam in ecclesia, coepit suaviter viribus deficere et intus rapta in lumen inenarrabile vidit in lumine divino hominem speciosum prae filiis hominum et in homine illo illud lumen. Et in homine et in lumine divino vidit elementa et creaturas et res ex ipsis factas tam parvas quam magnas distinctas in tanta claritate, ut quaelibet, quantumcunque parva, centies sole clarior videretur, prout sol modo lucet etiam minimum granum vel lapillus. Et sicut claritas solis, quae nunc est, in comparatione illius claritatis obscura censeretur, sicut luna, cum nube obscura tegitur. Erant quoque res creatae sic distinctae in claritate, ut unaquaeque sua qualitate discerneretur, videlicet granum viride a rosa rubea, et sic de caeteris. Inter omnia elementa et res creatas terra erat praeclarior. Et hoc ideo, quia deus corpus de terra sumpserat et quia corpora sanctorum sunt de terra et quia in passione Domini terra infusa est sanguine salvatoris et sanctorum. Haec enim omnia erant in homine illo, id est in Christo. Cap. IX. De praerogativis beatae virginis Virgo beata habet tres praerogativas prae omnibus electis. Prima est, quia ferventissime deum dilexit et diligit plus quam aliquis sanctorum; et ideo prae omnibus et super omnes in deum assumpta est, et de plenitudine sui amoris omnes electi participant et perceperunt initium suae salutis et conversionis, etiam adhuc existentes in via. Secunda est, quod ipsa est speculum Christi dei, et ipse se in ipsa speculatur sicut in speculo, cognoscens se carnem ab ea sumpsisse. Et quanquam omnes sancti in patria suum gaudium habent a matre virgine ex eo, quod se in ipsa speculatur, ut dictum est. Tertia est, quod ipsa beata virgo est constituta mediatrix inter deum et peccatores ad placandum deum et reconciliandum. Et ex hoc accrescit quotidie ei gloria ex his, qui ejus meritis et intercessione convertuntur et in bono proficiunt.

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Cap. XV. De angelis De beatis angelis dixit, quod sunt immateriales et in deo. Sicut rosa apposita speculo, rosa apparet in speculo, sic ipsi in speculo divino sunt. Verum esse et veram vitam habentes ardent in divino amore, et alii plus aliis et laudant deum et intuentur deum; in hoc habent maximum gaudium. Aliud gaudium habent ex eo, quod circa nos solliciti nostram procurant salutem et, quia ex hoc deo nos et nobis profectus salutis crescit, ipsi de hoc gaudent. Ipsi enim sic sunt amici generi humano, quod omnes parati essent venire ad terram pro una anima, ne periret. Et dixit, quamvis sancti angeli intimi sint deo et ardeant in charitate, tamen multorum sanctorum charitas praecellit et est ideo pretiosior, quia cum difficultate et pugna in charitate dei profecerunt. Cap. XIX. De luce egrediente ex vulneribus Christi Dixit, quod lux de vulneribus Christi egrediens refulget in sacra stigmata beati Francisci et eisdem tantum splendorem ministrat, sicut lux solis lunae, et quod tota curia coelestis ex hoc iocundatur. Cap. XXVI. De tribus stationibus, scilicet de coquina et apotheca et de instita dei vel Christi Deinde apparuit ei Christus in eadem visione pontificalibus indutus, ut dictum est, praeter casulam, et erant paramenta coelestis coloris, infula auro fulgebat et gemmis; et habebat tres stationes, et maximam multitudem hominum circa eum, quasi totus mundus. In statione una habuit coquinam, ubi ipse solus paravit cibaria. In alia statione habuit apothecam cum aromaticis speciebus, ubi ipse solus conficiebat medicinalia. In tertia statione habuit institam, ubi sicut institor exposuit diversa mercimonia. Et ad quamlibet istarum homines veniebant, ut acciperent de his, quae ibi erant, ita ut ad coquinam venirent pro cibariis, ad apothecam pro medicinis, ad institam pro mercimonia. Et quidam inde omnino repellebantur, et negatum est, quod nihil eis daretur. Alii induciati non statim, quae volebant, acceperunt; alii statim sine difficultate habuerunt, quae eis necessaria fuerunt. Hujus visionis intellectum ipsa, quae vidit, intellexit. Cap. XXVII. De ferculis coquinae In coquina Christus cibaria praeparabat. Primum ferculum fuit nimirum de speciebus calidis et aromaticis et significat devotam memoriam passionis Christi cum vehementi compassione. Ibi, ut dixit, inflammatur anima et ignitur, et in illa inflammatione compassionis induit quandam dei similitudinem. Secundum ferculum fuit quasi lacteum, id est quasi de lacte amygdalino, et significat dolorem et compassionem super peccatis proximi. Nam lac significat quandam dulcedinem compassionis. Tertium ferculum fuit quasi butyrum, quod de se est cibus dulcis et condit omnes alios cibos et facit saporosos. Et significat orationem, quae in se

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dulcis est et ad omnia valet. Salsamentum etiam paravit dominus, quod consistit ex aceto, quod significat timorem dei, item ex herbis virentibus, quae significant multimodam gratiae innovationem in anima devota, item ex pulveribus aromaticis, et significant divinam consolationem. Cap. XXXVII. De praeputio domini Ista persona solita erat quasi a juventute semper in die circumcisionis anxie deflere ex magna cordis compassione effusionem sanguinis Jesu Christi, quem sic tempestive initio suae, infantiae effundere dignatus est. Quod et fecit modo, quando facta est ei revelatio jam dicta, quando communicaverat in die circumcisionis. Sic quoque compatiens et flens coepit cogitare de praeputio domini, ubinam esset. Et ecce, mox sensit super linguam suam parvam pelliculam ad modum pelliculae ovi cum praemaxima dulcedine, quarn deglutivit. Quam cum deglutisset, iterum pelliculam sensit in lingua cum dulcedine ut prius, quam iterum deglutivit. Et hoc accidit ei bene centum vicibus. Et cum totiens sentiret, tentata est digito eam attingere. Quod cum vellet facere, illa pellicula de se in gutture descendit. Et dictum est ei, quod praeputium cum domino surrexit in die resurrectionis. Tanta fuit dulcedo in degustatione hujus pelliculae, quod in omnibus membris et membrorum articulis sensit dulcem immutationem. In ista revelatione fuit tota interius plena lumine, ita ut se ipsam totam conspiceret. Et quoniam sacramentum dei abscondere bonum est, ista persona revelationes sibi a domino factas mihi, qui eram suus confessor, licet indignus, timuit revelare et saepe proposuit in animo nihil mihi amplius dicere. Et quotiens hoc firmiter proponeret, tunc incepit infirmari, ita quod non potuit tacere, domino hoc volente. Ego quidem nimium consolabar super eo, quod dominus dignatus est sic se homini manifestare, et multum ardebam audire. Et ipsa retulit mihi, quod quadam die volens communicare, et jam tempus praeterisset, quod non sperabat alicubi communionem se posse habere, ipsa rogabat dominum in corde suo dicens: “Domine, Si est tuae voluntatis, quod ea, quae tu mihi dignaris revelare, ego communicem fratri confessori meo, provideas mihi hodie de corporis tui sacra, communione, et hoc sit mihi pro signo.” Et sic venit ad quoddam monasterium, et post publicam missam venit capellanus illius coenobii, qui ob aliquam causam neglexerat dicere missam et valde tarde praeter solitum celebravit, et dedit ei communionem dominici corporis. Cap. XXXIX. De sanctitate vitae suae, scilicet hujus puella de qua iste libellus tractat Certificabat etiam me sanctitas vitae eius, quoniam ab exordio juventutis domino devotissime serviebat. Cum adhuc juvencula esset nunquam cum ludentibus se conmiscuit, sed, aliis puellis ad solatia puerilia convenientibus, ipsa domi remanens patrem deum exorabat in abscondito. Spiritu sancto eam docente, coepit se abstinentia mirabili affligere, ita ut, quaecunque ponebantur, comedere se simulans pio furto subtraheret et devotis pauperibus erogaret. Sicque vim naturae

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faciendo, tanta cruciabatur fame, ut frequenter seorsum amarissime fleret. Hoc cruciatu famis voluntariae propter deum bene per decem annos vitam actitabat, incipiens, cum septem foret annorum. Carnes per triginta annos vix ad unum comedit pastum. Omni die jejunavit praeter dominicum diem. Dixit, quod nunquam cum delectatione gustus cibum sumeret et quod saepe flevit pro eo, quod oportuit eam manducare corporalem cibum. Et quoniam sibi tanta austeritate carnis delitias subtraxit a juventute sua, dominus ei spirituales delitias liberalissime ministravit, sicut per plura exempla infra posita patebit. Cum enim esset annorum undecim, devotione magna flagrabat ad corpus domini. Quod cum accepisset, sensit corporaliter in ore dulcidinem inenarrabilem, et sicut retulit, quod omnis dulcedo creata in comparatione illius dulcedinis esset sicut acetum in comparatione mellis. Putabat tunc, quod hanc dulcedinem sentirent omnes communicantes. Et cum audiret, quod aliqui sacerdotes carnis illecebris se darent, mirabatur, quomodo unquam possent tanta dulcedine contempta talibus delectari sordibus. Festinabat quoque eo citius fieri begina, ut posset saepius communicare. Hujus quoque saporis dulcedinem et suavitatem, quando communicat, non solum dulcedinem gustu corporali sensit et sentit, sed etiam in anima miram spiritualem suavitatem. Ego vero fui memor illius promissi domini in apocalypsi: “Vincenti dabo manna absconditum.” Et illius verbi deuteronomii: “Afflixit te penuria, et dedit tibi cibum manna, quod ignorabas tu et patres tui,” quia haec vere in ea completa sunt. Similiter dixit mihi frater Otto de ordine fratrum minorum. Ipse quidem, ut ait, cum forsan esset annorum octodecim, totus simplex in domo paterna, nutritus inter simplices et silvestres in rure, cogebatur, ut in pascha acciperet corpus domini. Ipse adhuc quidem immunis ab omni peccato mortali inconfessus, sed in magna simplicitate communicavit. Et, mirabile dictu et magna fidei nostrae consolatio! Statim, cum sumpsisset corpus domini in os, tantam sensit dulcitudinem et suavitatem in gustu, quod mellis et balsami vinceret suavitatem. Et reputans, quod semper deberet sentire dulcidinem talem, cum communicaret, cum desiderio expectabat festum paschae anni sequentis, ut iterum corpus Christi acciperet, sed tunc non sensit. Est adhuc magnum nostrae fidei et devotionis solatium, quod ista puella, de qua superius locutus sum, frequenter, quando audit divina in missa, hora communicationis sensit corporaliter in ore dulcedinem similem supradictae et nihilominus animae et cordis inenarrabilem suavitatem. Et si contingeret aliqua die, quod dominus ei illam consolationem subtraheret—quod raro, tamen interdum, accidit—tunc nimium desolatur.

Cap. XL. De osculationibus altarium hujus puellae Est et aliud mirabile non minus isto. Consuevit illa puella devotionis cause deosculari altaria, in quibus illa die missa est celebrata. Et tunc tantam sensit odoris fragrantiam, quasi ad modum similae calidae suaviter redolentis, sed

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incomparabiliter suavius. Et dixit, quod aliquando in sero iterum deosculata est altare quaerens refici illo suavissimo odore. Tunc adhuc sensit, sed non tantum sicut in mane, quando missa recenter fuit ibi dicta. Et quod est valde mirabile, dixit, quod aliquando in odore cognovit, quis frater ibi missam dixisset. Cap. XLI. De quodam sacerdote, qui unam virginem defloravit et sic missam celebravit Magna devotione fervebat ad corpus domini omni septimana communicabat. Unde ei dominus mira et magna de hoc sacramento ostendere dignatus est. Cum enim esset adhuc juvencula forsan sexdecim annorum, accidit hoc horrendum piis auribus, quod cum quidam sacerdos in nocte unam virginem deflorasset in villa, ubi et ista puella manebat, in die sequenti missam celebraret propter funus, quod habebat. Et cum esset dies fori, pauci homines aderant praeter devotas beginas. Et quoniam crimen publicum et notum erat omnibus, omnes horrebant audire missam sacerdotis illius. Et omnibus recedentibus, illa dixit dolens: “Ego volo hodie esse Maria Magdalena.” Et rogavit dominum dicens: “Domine, rogo te, ut, si iste est de numero salvandorum, non permittas eum tuum sacratissimum corpus sumere!” Et ecce, post pater noster in missa ipsa sensit et habuit hostiam veraciter in ore et deglutivit cum tanta dulcedine, quanta consuevit communicare. Sacerdos vero, quando debuit sumere corpus, respexit hinc inde in altari, sicut quasi aliquid amisisset. Accidit autem post plures annos, quod dominus eundem sacerdotem percussit morbo caduco; sicque factus inutilis et inhabilis sacerdotali officio et quasi surdus factus, devolutus est ad tantam miseriam, ut stipem acciperet cum aliis mendicis ostiatim. Miserante domino, qui nullum vult perire, factus est adeo devotus et contritus, ut per totam diem sederet in ecclesia in oratione. Et cum bene potuisset habuisse aliquem deum timentem, qui ei victui necessaria tribuisset, ipse renuit et elegit potius in tanta mendicitate inter notos vivere et sic duram poenitentiam agere. Sic quoque degens tribus annis et dimidio vitam feliciter finivit. Cap. XLIV. De reverentia facta cuidam cellario nesciens inclinando Aliud fidei nostrae augmentum omni veneratione dignissimum accidit: quod ista devota ancilla Christi visitando ecclesias praedicationis vel indulgentiae vel devotionis causa frequenter praecederet cujusdam cauponis domum, et quotiescunque transiret, reverentiam faceret cellario nesciens inclinando. Quod devotae personae cum ea comitantes advertentes notaverunt et ei de hoc loquentes in solatio corridebant. Ipsa vero ab hujusmodi adoratione cessare non poterat, quia non hoc sensu proprio, sed instigante spiritu sancto faciebat, quod rei eventus declaravit. Nam cum hoc bene perfecisset, venerunt sacerdotes de parochia cum vexillis et cum processione cleri et populi, et corpus domini, quod ibi quaedam malefica in

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vase vini absconderat propter lucrum suum, cum reverentiia, hymnis et canticis asportaverunt. Nam illa mulier malefica ducta poenitentia hoc ipsum cuidam sacerdotum retulit et personam suam salvans clam recessit. Quod factum cum vidissent personae, quae prius riserant, admirantes dominum collaudabant. Cap. LXXVIII. De minutione hujus puella Quadam vice, cum traheret sanguinem, sanguis quasi prae calore bulliebat, ita ut minutor et etiam ipsa miraretur eo, quod parcus foret ejus victus et simplex nec incentivis uteretur et omni die jejunaret et tamen sanguis calore bulliret. Sicque secum mirans audivit mox vocem intra se dicentem: “Iste calor non est a natura, sed a gratia, quia deus animam divino calore accendit, et animam sic accensam calefacit, et inde est calor iste sanguinis.” Ipsa enim saepe, sicut dictum est superius, in visitationibus divinis infundebatur a calore in pectore, ut ex hoc per totum corpus calor diffusus non poenaliter, sed suaviter, eam ureret. Cum autem vox loqueretur ei, ipsa stupefacta est non cum horrore, sed cum quadam laetitia. Nam dixit, quod, quotiens ei haec vox loqueretur, semper in initio sermonis subita et inopinata laetitia eam rapuit in stuporem, ita ut a se aliquantum deficeret et quaedam debilitas eam apprehenderet, quemadmodum si alicui nunciaretur de amico suo, quem multum diligeret et videre gestiret: Adest talis amicus tuus. Ipsa quoque ad se reversa cogitavit secum, forte ex hujusmodi accensione sanguinis taliter facta, ut praedictum est, posset infirmari, non traheret sanguinem. Vox statim ad cogitationem respondit, quod sic, quia tantus posset esse excessus caloris in ipso sanguine, quod natura ferre non posset. Unde, cum sanguis trahitur, calor minuitur et levius fertur. Et adjecit vox dicens: “Aliquando iste calor diffunditur in toto sanguine per omnia membra ita quod, ex devotione sanguine sic calente, omnia membra suaviter incalescunt, tamen absque incentivo corruptionis et absque macula.” Cap. LXXIX. De abominatione tristitiae hujus puellae Quadam die, cum communicasset, infusa est dulcedine consueta tam gustu corporali quam mentali de manna illi vivifico. Cumque per aliquod spatium diei sic perdurasset, coepit corporalibus viribus debilitari. Et quoniam tempus aderat dicendi horas canonicas, ipsa se vi ab illa consolatione abstraxit et horas deo persolvit. Et ex hoc in magnam tristitiam incidit recogitans suas miserias et defectus, quos coepit exaggerare et aggravare, cum tamen vere non esset misera, sed dives in gratia. Et post modicum facta est in extasi, et vox in ea loquebatur, reprehendens illam de illa tristitia. Et visum fuit ei, quod cum cultello, quem penes se habebat, dentes purgans, duas muscas de dentibus erueret. Et tunc ad se mox reversa audivit vocem consuetam dicentem satis duriter: “Sicut hae muscae sunt abominabiles hominibus, sic tua tristitia deo.”

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Cap. CXIV. De narrationibus sanctarum virginum, quae et quanta essent passae propter dominum His diebus quasi hora meridiana facta est super eam manus domini. Et apparuit sibi dominus in veste sicut sol refulgenti, et duae turmae candidatorum a dextris et a sinistris ejus. Et ait dominus ad eam: “Essesne libenter cum his?” Quae ait: “Utique domine!” Cui dominus: “Interroga,” inquit, “ab eis, quae et quanta passi sunt propter dominum!” Et primo beata Katherina, deinde beata Lucia, beata Christina, beata Agnes, beata Agatha et caeterae virgines et martyres, quae stabant a dextris domini, narraverunt ei, quae et qualia passae essent. Et eorum passiones coram se quasi in tabula depictas ferebant, et illa pictura quasi viva videbatur vel vitam habere. Tunc ipsa cogitavit: “Domine, non sum digna pro te talia pati.” Tunc dominus ostendit ei beatum Job in secunda turma a sinistris ejus, qui erant omnes mirae pulchritudinis. Et ait dominus: “Quia non potes pertingere ad martyrium, eo quod non sit christianorum persecutio, patere tamen voluntarie corporales infirmitates et molestias cum beato Job, qui libenter pro amore mei eas sustinuit!” Ipsa quoque eodem tempore graves passa est corporales dolores. Cap. CXVIII. De anima devota in thalamo contemplationis et materfamilias, quae quinque in domo sua facit Quadam die legeram ei quaedam beati Bernhardi super cantica, quomodo anima sponsa cunctis affectionibus renuncians aliis soli et tota incumbat amori. Hoc ipsa mente pertractans mirabatur, quomodo honori non intenderet, quia hoc etiam ex dictis beati Bernhardi habetur, quod deus, in quantum sponsus, non exigit nisi amari. Cumque ista mente volveret, audivit vocem intra se dicentem sibi: “Anima devota in thalamo contemplationis ut sponsa non intendit nisi amori. Sed alias est tanquam hospita seu materfamilias in domo et procuratrix. Nam materfamilias in procurando domum, cum timore mariti et ad honorem quinque facit in domo. Primo circumspecta est ad educandos filios et filias in moribus et disciplina. Sic anima sancta se interius sollicitius intuetur et exterius sensibus custodiam adhibet et interiores motus et exteriores mores componit. Secundo materfamilias familiam regit operibus debitis mancipando. Sic anima devota corpus debitae subjicit servituti corporaliter operando. Tertio materfamilias in se et in operibus et actibus suis est bene morigerata. Sic anima devota in omnibus actibus suis, scilicet vigiliis, jejuniis, orationibus et aliis est bene ordinata et modificata. Quarto materfamilias est sollicita, quomodo marito placeat et ejus voluntati deserviat. Et sic anima devota studet, quomodo placeat deo et ejus voluntatem adimpleat et caveat, ne ipsum offendat. Quinto materfamilias omnibus eam requirentibus se exhibet misericordiam et piam, satisfaciendo singulis pro posse. Sic anima devota suffragiis orationum, consiliis, consolationibus, exhortationibus et aliis, quibus potest, aedificare vel consolari proximum propter deum parata est omnibus.” Et multi sunt in ista revelatione ostensi, in quibus quilibet abundaret vel in quibus

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deficeret. Dictumque est ei, quod anima, prout est in thalamo contemplationis, tunc habet et gerit se ut sponsa et ibi nihil nisi amare novit et vacare amori, illique vehementer intendere tanquam sponsa et cetera. Cap. CXXII. De conguestionibus omnium elementorum de professoribus religionum Quadam vice facta in spiritu vidit et audivit, et facta est vox ad eam dicens, “Omnia elementa conqueruntur de professoribus religionum. Ignis, hoc est ignis divini amori, conqueritur, quod quidam religiosi a se tripliciter repellunt ipsum ignem divini amoris.” Cumque hanc vocem audivisset, vidit et apparuerunt ei tria significativa illius triplicis repulsionis. Vidit enim picem bullientem et aquaticarum ranarum foetum vilissimum et genus quoddam vermium, quod scorpio vocatur. Quae apparuerunt in medio ignis, ita tamen, quod quaedam tenebrae essent inter ipsa et ignem. Haec significant occupationem exteriorem et secularia negotia, quibus se implicant aliquando aliqui religiosi; item spem super deposito, ad quod confugiunt, cum volunt, inde sumentes sua solatia, item curam carnis in desideriis gulae. Item terra conqueretur: quia, ut dictum est ei, omnem honorem dominus terrae exhibuit, scilicet, quod corpus suum de terra sumpsit, quod sacro sanguine suo eam perfudit, quia quotidie corpus suum consecratur de terra, quia panis de terra nascitur. Haec omni fecit dominus propter terram illam, quae animam portat, id est, corpus humanum. Natura humani corporis de terra sumpta est ad deo serviendum et ad exercendum se corporaliter in dei servitio, et quia hoc non faciunt quidam religiosi, ideo de hoc terra conqueritur. Et vidit ibi iterum tria impedimenta videlicet congeriem stercorum, picem, plumbum et ceram simul liquatam et lumen in laterna nigra et tenebrosa. Haec: avaritia, voluptas et carnis commodum, quae maculant animam; ut pix inflammant animam; ut plumbum liquatum, quod multum calet, flexibilem et mollem faciunt ad quaeque levia, sicut cera flexibilis est. Laterna tenebrosa defectus supererogationis et difficultas debiti, eo quod diffficiles et segnes sunt ad ea, ad quae tenentur, et opportet eos stimulari ut boves, postea nihil supererogant peculiaris exercitii vel devotionis. Aer conqueritur, id est, verba, quae proferunt. Et vidit iterum ibi tria, scilicet intemperiem aeris, scilicet ventum et nubem turbidam, coruscantem et fistulantem aliquid suave in fistula. Haec sunt verba blasphemiae et maledicta et horribilia verba, item multiloqia otiosa, item, verba joculatoria et cachinnos excitantia. Aqua conqueritur, id est, sanctificatio per spiritum sanctum facta. Vidit ibi tria, videlicet aquam turbulentam, chrystallos candidas habentes nigras maculas et mel cum aculeis apum sursum versis. Haec significant violationem innocentiae baptismalis, incuriam expiationis per lacrimas et negligentiam dulcedinis devotionis propter sollicitudines.

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De qualibet materia dictorum vitiorum significativa vox facta est, quae singula, prout dicta sunt, exponebat. Haec autem visio solas personas religiosas includebat, sive in religione, sive in seculo, servitio divino mancipatas. In quolibet quoque elemento vidit multos diversorum ordinum et statuum, quos cognovit. Cap. CLXXXI. De visione omnium hominum distinctis in duodecim divisionibus et diversis eorum statibus In hac visione in deo existens vidit omnes exercitus coeli, angelos et sanctos. Vidit etiam homines omnes super terram viventes, qui erant distincti in duodecim divisiones et partes. In prima parte apparuerunt quasi trunci homines nihil habentes de homine nisi faciem, quae erat teterrima; et quasi mortui jacuerunt et immoti. Et isti sunt gentiles, in quibus sola imago dei est, mutilati ab omni virtute et gratia. In secunda parte homines erant habentes integram dispositionem humanam, sed nigri et caeci jacentes quasi mortui, et isti sunt Judaei caeci in fide et in scriptura sacrae fidei. Tertii fuerunt vivi excoriati; et discurrentes hinc inde sanguine suo alios inquinaverunt, quos tetigerunt. Isti sunt haeretici, qui discurrentes per mundum suis erroribus non cessant foedare animas. Quarti fuerunt apostatae, quorum magna multitudo est, qui in ecclesia multum nocent. Quinti fuerunt peccatores temerarii absque fronte et sine timore peccantes publice et studentes peccare, quantum possunt. Sexti homines sunt seculares, qui peccatis quidem involuti non tamen ita publice, sed aliqua honestate conversationis in facie hominum ornati fornicationibus tamen et adulterus et usuris et similibus innodati, eleemosynas largiuntur pauperibus, ecclesias visitant et similibus bonis operibus intendunt. Septimi sunt hypocritae, sub quibus comprehenduntur omnes mali religiosi, omnes mali praelati, omnes mali sacerdotes. Isti septem ordines sunt omnes in statu damnationis, nisi convertantur. Sunt aliae quinque turbae, quae sunt in bono statu. Primi sunt boni conjugati et vitae activae mancipati, qui juxta suam possibilitatem deo serviunt abstinentes ab omni mortali peccato. Secundi sunt devotae viduae et viduati coelibem vitam actitantes in seculo. Tertii sunt religiosi sub obedientia degentes, et isti sunt magni meriti apud deum. Nam nihil est adeo modicum, quod sub obedientia faciunt, pro quo non remunerentur, etiam pro quolibet passu et vestigio pedis longe plus aliis, qui pro sua voluntate illa faciunt vel dimittunt, sicut eis placet. . . . Quarti sunt homines devotioni dediti ex corde et castigationi corporali pro dei amore. Isti sunt magni meriti; nam propter castigationem corporalem sunt martyres, et isti castigatione ipsa triumphant de hoste et vitiis, sicut triumphaverunt alii martyres sua passione. . . . Unde tanquam boni negotiatores magnos thesauros meritorum congregant. . . . Quinti sunt excellenter contemplativi et elevati mente in deum, uniti deo per amorem, dotati peculiarius familiaritate cum deo. Isti tantum placent deo, ut eorum vulgaris conversatio accepta sit deo, quantum popularium hominum beatorum oratio. Isti nunquam fraudantur a desiderio suo, si quid ex corde desideraverint a deo. Item quibuscunque suis votis et

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desideriis gratiam impetrant, hos non contingit finaliter a deo separari. Item deus in talibus majores habet delicias quam in coelo, in ea parte, quod ipsi in fragili corpore degentes ad tantam perfectionem, promovente gratia, pervenerunt et adhuc sunt in continuo conatu et studio proficiendi. Item de ipsis tota coelestis curia laetatur pro eo, quod dominus in terris tantum in his honorem et gloriam habeat. Cap. CCXI. De fide tripudiante Post aliquot dies accidit, ut mecum sermocinaret de fide catholica. Cumque ab invicem recessissemus, ipsa coepit pie cogitare de fide. Habuit enim magnam devotionem et complacentiam fide Christi. Eodem die sub completorio fratrum in ecclesia non longe ab altari beatae virginis facta est super eam manus domini. Et ecce, apparuit una puella juvenis pulcherrima facie coronam auream habens, induta vestitu valde albo et quasi de serico subtilii et longo et plaudens manibus tripudiabat in radu superiori circa altare beatae virginis incedendo versus hanc virginem more pomposo et hilari vultu. Erat quoque circumfusa immenso lumine varii coloris. Haec autem virgo mirabatur, quaenam esset haec puella sic exultans et tripudians et tam superbe incedens. Tunc ei ait puella: “Ego sum fides tua. Caeterae virtutes sibi humilitatem conjunctam habent; ego vero singulariter superbiam et gloriam mihi usurpo, quia mea est.” Haec autem non intellexit, quomodo ejus esset superbia. Tunc illa ait: “Ego superbio et glorior super omnes sectas et errores, quae putridae sunt in conspectu dei. Sola ego veritate gaudeo, eamque habeo.” Ex hac apparitione ista virgo, cum prius fuisset desolata et tristis et corporaliter debilis, mox nimium consolata est et exhilarata et corporaliter confortata. Cap CCXXV. De sessionibus pauperum et divitum et praedicatorum diversorum Post octavam beati Francisci audivit sermonem, et facta est ibi manus domini super eam in lumine magno, et vidit pauperes et divites intrare locum paratum convivio. Pauperes autem sederunt in loco eminentiori et digniori super divites. Nec de hoc aliquis habuit displicentiam, sed potius placitum fuit omnibus, quoniam sic requirebat justitia, quam omnes diligebant. Disparente illa visione ad se reversa est. TRANSLATION BY ULRIKE WIETHAUS1 Preface of the Author I praise you, Father, Lord of Heaven and Earth, that you have hidden these things from the wise and clever and revealed them to the little ones, since this [choice] was pleasing to you. 1 Leben und Offenbarungen der Wiener Begine Agnes Blannbekin (d. 1315), ed., with German translation, Peter Dinzelbacher and Renate Vogeler (Göppingen: Kümmerle Verlag, 1994).

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Truly, Lord, your testimonies have gained abundant credibility since you engage in conversation with ordinary people and since you have said, “I shall lead her into solitude and I shall speak to her heart.” For it pleases you to reveal secrets to your little and humble ones. As you have done in the days of old for the forefathers in the Books of the Prophets, in order to edify and console believers, you disclose the unknown and hidden [aspects] of your wisdom by speaking with ordinary people whom you have led into the solitude of interior contemplation in many and diverse ways about the secrets of your mysteries. Therefore, Blessed Trinity, I, a most insignificant and unworthy Brother of the Franciscan Order, giving thanks to your venerable majesty, worthy of devotion and love, and to your truth and goodness, will write down for your praise, your glory, and your honor and for the edification of faith and for the nurturing of devotion and for the stimulation of love for God that which I have learned or will learn from holy and trustworthy persons to whom you, Lord, have revealed yourself. I implore you, Father of Light, whose every gift is excellent and whose every present is perfect, that you will give me the helpful wisdom of your abodes so that it may be with me, work with me, write with me so that I will write what is acceptable to you and so that I will not exceed the limits of truth. Amen. Chapter One. Concerning the Elements, Created Beings and Objects Since the hand of God came upon a holy person after mass in church, she began to lose her strength with a sensation of sweetness. Experiencing rapture and enfolded in unspeakable light, she saw a man, handsome before the sons of man, and in that man she saw that [same] light. And in the man and the divine light, she saw the elements and creatures and the things made thereof, the small and the big, distinct in such great luminosity that it seemed that each, no matter how small, shone a hundred times brighter than the sun. As the sun shines, so does even the smallest grain or pebble as if it were the sun. And the clarity of the sun as it is now would be judged dark in comparison, much like the moon when it is hidden by a cloud. The created things were distinct in their brightness such that each was different according to its characteristics, so the green seed from the red rose, and so the others. Among all elements and created objects, the earth was especially bright, the reason being that God had assumed his body from the earth and that the bodies of the saints are taken from the earth and that during the Lord’s passion, the earth was soaked in the blood of the Savior and the saints. All of these were [shown] in that man, that is, Christ. Chapter Nine. Regarding the Superior Merits of the Blessed Virgin [Mary] The Blessed Virgin enjoys three superior qualities above all the elect. The first is that she loved and still loves God more fervently than any of the saints do. And for this reason, she has been assumed into God before all and above all. And all elect, even those who are still on the way participate in the

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abundance of her love and have received the beginning of their own salvation and conversion. The second is that she herself is a mirror of the divine Christ and that He Himself views Himself in her as in a mirror, conscious that He received His flesh from her. And though all saints receive their joy from the divine Christ in their home country [heaven], He Himself, on the other hand, experiences special joy through His virginal mother, since, as has been said, He views Himself in her. The third is that the Blessed Virgin was installed as a mediator between God and sinners in order to pacify God and be reconciled. And everyday, for this reason, Her renown increases through those who through her merit and intercession are converted and make progress in becoming good persons. Chapter Fifteen. Regarding Angels Regarding the blessed angels, she said that they are immaterial and are in God. As a rose, when put in front of a mirror, appears in the mirror, so are angels in the mirror of God. Having true being and true life, they burn in divine love, some more so than others, and they praise God and they see God; in this they experience greatest joy. They derive another joy from the fact that in their solicitude for us they procure our salvation. And since it brings honor to God and progress in salvation for us, they rejoice. They are such friends of the human species that they all would be prepared and willing to descend upon earth for the sake of just one soul so that it would not perish. And she said that although the angels are very close to God and burn in love, nevertheless the love of many saints is stronger and therefore more precious, because the saints advanced in the love of God through many difficulties and struggles. Chapter Nineteen. Regarding the Light That Emanates from the Wounds of Christ She said that the light emanating from the wounds of Christ shines into the stigmata of St. Francis and brings them such splendor as the light of the sun brings to the moon that all of the divine court rejoices over it. Chapter Twenty-Six. Regarding Three Places, That Is, the Kitchen, the Pharmacy, and the Shop of God, or Rather, Christ In the same vision, Christ appeared to her clad in a bishop’s garments except for the chasuble. The paraments had the color of heaven, and the mitre shone with gold and precious stones. And He was surrounded by three sites and a great multitude of people as if it were the whole world. He had a kitchen at one place,

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where He alone prepared food. In another area, He had a pharmacy with aromatic herbs, where He alone prepared medicines. At the third location, He had a store where He, like a shopkeeper, displayed diverse goods. And people went to all three places to get something from what was available there. So they went to the kitchen for food, to the pharmacy for medicines, and to the store for merchandise. And some would be completely rejected from there, and it was forbidden that they should receive anything. Others were set some limits and they did not receive immediately what they desired. Others received immediately and without difficulty what they needed. She who saw this vision also understood its meaning. Chapter Twenty-Seven. Regarding the Foods of the Kitchen Christ prepared the dishes in the kitchen. The first dish was no doubt made from warm and aromatic specialties and represents devout remembrance, with great compassion, for the passion of Christ. As she said, there the soul is kindled and ignited. In this flaring up of compassion, the soul receives a certain divine likeness. The second dish seemed to have been made from milk, that is, the milk of almonds, and it represents sorrow and compassion for the sins of our neighbors, since milk represents a certain sweetness of compassion. The third dish seemed to have been made of butter, which in itself is a sweet food and refines and augments the taste of other foods. And it represents prayer, which in itself is sweet and good for everything. Christ also prepared brine made of vinegar, which represents the fear of God, and also of strong herbs, which represent the manifold regeneration of grace in the devout soul, and of aromatic powders, and these represent divine consolation. Chapter Thirty-Seven. Regarding the Foreskin of Christ On the feast day of the Circumcision, almost from her youth onward, and fearfully because of great and heartfelt compassion, this person was always accustomed to cry over the blood Christ deigned to shed so early at the beginning of His childhood. And this was what she did when the already mentioned revelation occurred, when she received communion on the feast day of the Circumcision. Crying and with compassion she began to think about the foreskin of Christ, where it may be located. And behold, soon she felt with the greatest sweetness on her tongue a little piece of skin like the skin in an egg, which she swallowed. After she had swallowed it, she again felt the little skin on her tongue with sweetness as before, and again she swallowed it. And this happened to her about a hundred times. And when she felt it so frequently, she was tempted to touch it with her finger. And when she wanted to do so, that little skin went down her throat on its own. And it was told to her that the foreskin was resurrected with the Lord on the

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day of resurrection. And so great was the sweetness of tasting that little skin that she felt in all [her] limbs and parts of the limbs a sweet transformation. During this revelation, she was so filled with light within that she could observe herself completely. And because it is good to hide God’s mystery, this person was afraid to share this divinely inspired revelation with me, her unworthy confessor, and she often resolved in her mind not to tell me anything further of it. And whenever she firmly determined [not to tell me], she began to get sick, so that she could not keep silent, since God wanted it [i.e., sharing her vision]. I, on the other hand, was really very comforted that the Lord deigned to show Himself to a human being in such a way, and greatly desired to hear [about it]. And she herself told me that one day, when she wanted to receive communion and the time had passed [and] she did not hope that it would be possible to receive communion anywhere, she herself asked the Lord in her heart and said, “Lord, if it is Your will that I shall tell the friar, my confessor, what you deigned to reveal to me, then provide me with the communion of your sacred body today, and this shall be a sign to me.” And then she went to a certain monastery, and after the public Mass, the chaplain of that community arrived, who for some reason had neglected to say mass and officiated much later than usual, and he gave her the communion of the body of the Lord. Chapter Thirty-Nine. Regarding the Holiness of Her Life, Namely of the Girl Who Is the Topic of This Book The fact that she served the Lord most devotedly from the beginning of her youth also proved to me the holiness of her life. When she was still a little girl, she never mingled with those who played games, but, while the other girls gathered for childish pleasures, she remained at home and worshipped God the Father in secret. As the Holy Spirit taught her, she began to afflict herself with admirable abstinence, so that she, pretending to eat whatever was put before her, took it in a pious act of stealing and distributed it among the devout poor. And thus, forcefully subduing nature, she was tortured by such hunger that she often cried bitterly when alone. Beginning at the age of seven, she spent a good ten years of her life with such martyrdom of voluntary hunger for God’s sake. For thirty years, she hardly ate any meat at meals. Every day except for Sundays, she fasted. She said that she never ate with the pleasure of tasting [the food] and that she often cried, because she had to eat material food. And because she abstained with such austerity from the pleasures of the flesh since her youth, the Lord generously offered her spiritual delights, as will become obvious through numerous examples given below. When she was eleven years old, she burned with great devotion for the body of the Lord [Eucharist]. When she received Him, she physically felt in her mouth

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an inexpressible sweetness, and as she recounted, all earthly sweetness was in comparison to this sweetness as vinegar is in comparison to honey. Then she assumed that all who took communion would feel such sweetness. And when she heard that some priests gave themselves to carnal lust, she wondered how they could disdain such sweetness and enjoy such filth. She hastened all the more quickly to become a beguine so that she could take communion more frequently. When she takes communion, she feels this sweetness and pleasantness of taste, but not only does and did she experience the sweetness of the bodily sense of taste, but also a miraculous spiritual sweetness in the soul. I, however, was reminded of that promise of the Lord in the Apocalypse, “I will give hidden manna to the winner.” And of the words in Deuteronomy which were truly fulfilled in her, “He afflicted you with lack of food and gave you as food manna which you and your fathers did not know.” I was told something similar by friar Otto of the Franciscan Order. He said that when he was about eighteen years old, living a very simple life in his father’s house and raised among simple and rural people in the countryside, he was forced to take communion at Easter. Until then still untouched by any mortal sin and without having undergone confession, he took communion in great simplicity [of mind]. And, amazing to say and greatly consoling to our faith, he immediately, upon receiving the Body of Christ in the mouth, tasted such sweetness and pleasantness that it surpassed the sweetness of honey and balm. And thinking that he always ought to feel such sweetness when he took communion, he anticipated with desire the Easter celebration of the following year to receive the Body of Christ again, but then he did not feel anything. It is a great solace for our faith that this young woman about whom I spoke above, not only physically feels a sweetness in her mouth similar to the one mentioned above during the hour of communion when she hears something Divine during Mass, but an inexpressible sweetness of soul and heart as well. And if it were to happen that the Lord would withhold from her such consolation—it happens rarely, yet sometimes it does—then she is extraordinarily desolate. Chapter Forty. Regarding This Girl’s Kisses of the Altars There is yet another wondrous thing, not less than this. Motivated by devotion, this girl used to kiss those altars on which Mass was celebrated that day. And then she experienced such a fragrant odor, similar to a warm, sweet smelling roll, but incomparably sweeter. And she said that once, in the evening, she again kissed the altar with the wish to be edified by this very sweet odor. Then she smelled it, but not as much as in the morning when Mass had just been celebrated. And what is very miraculous, she said, is that she once recognized through odor what friar had celebrated Mass there.

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Chapter Forty-One. Regarding a Certain Priest Who Had Deflowered a Virgin and in This State [of Sin] Celebrated Mass She burned with great devotion for the Body of Christ—she took communion every week. For this reason, the Lord deigned to show her miraculous and great things about this sacrament. When she was still a young girl of about sixteen years of age, something horrible to these pious ears happened: namely, that during one night, a priest deflowered a young virgin in the town where that girl stayed. The following day, he celebrated Mass because of a funeral which he had to perform. And since it was market day, there were only a few people present besides the pious beguines. And since the crime was out in the open and known to all, all were horrified to listen to the Mass celebrated by that priest. And while everybody retreated, she [Agnes] said in great pain, “Today, I wish to be Mary Magdalene.” And she asked the Lord, “Lord, I beg you that, if he is among the number of those who will be saved, you will not permit him to take the Body of Christ.” And behold, after the Our Father during that Mass, she herself felt and truly had the host in the mouth and swallowed it with such sweetness as she was used to while taking communion. The priest, however, when it was his turn to receive the body [of Christ], looked around at the altar as if he had lost something. But after some years, it happened that the Lord hit that priest with epilepsy; having become so useless and unfit for the office of the priesthood and having become as good as deaf, he was thrown into such misery that together with other beggars he accepted alms at the doors. Through the compassion of the Lord who does not want anybody to perish, he became so devout and contrite that he spent the whole day praying in church. And although he could well have accepted a God-fearing sponsor who would have provided him with the daily necessities, he rejected this and rather chose to live in such poverty among acquaintances of such notoriety and to engage in such hard penance. In this way, he spent three and a half more years and ended life happily.

Chapter Forty-Four. Regarding an Unconscious Reverence Shown to a Basement by Bowing [in front of it] Another increase of our faith happened, most worthy of every veneration: that this devoted maidservant of Christ, visiting churches because of a sermon or indulgence or out of devotion, often passed the house of a certain merchant, and whenever she walked through, unconsciously showed reverence to the basement by bowing [toward it]. This was noticed by devout [and] attentive persons who accompanied her; speaking to her about it, they merrily laughed together. She, however, was unable to stop this kind of veneration in which she did not engage by her own will, but because of instigation by the Holy Spirit, as became clear at the end.

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Namely, when she had accomplished [her veneration] appropriately, priests from the parish came with banners and a procession of clerics and the people, in order to carry away the Body of the Lord [the host] with devotion, hymns and songs. A certain witch had hidden [the host] in a wine vessel for her own profit [in the said basement]. Driven by remorse, the woman, a witch, confessed this to a priest, and, to save her person, secretly disappeared. When the persons who previously laughed saw this, they all together praised the Lord in admiration. Chapter Seventy-Eight. Regarding the Blood-letting of This Maiden Once, when she underwent blood-letting, the blood almost boiled [foamed] because of heat so that the barber-surgeon and also she wondered about it, because her food was meager and simple and she did not use any stimulants [spicy herbs] and fasted every day and nevertheless, the blood boiled hot. And as she felt puzzled, she heard a voice within herself saying, “This heat does not stem from nature, but from grace, because God ignites the soul with divine heat, and warms the soul kindled in such fashion. And this is the reason for this heat of the blood.” As stated above, during divine visitations, her chest often was filled with heat, so that a heat diffused throughout her body burned her sweetly, not painfully. When the voice spoke to her, she felt stupefied not out of fear, but with a certain joy, since, as she said, whenever that voice spoke to her, a sudden and unexpected joy jolted her into a stupor at the beginning of the speech. This resulted in a little loss of consciousness; and the kind of weakness grabbed her that somebody felt to whom the news would be announced about a friend whom she or he loved very much: Your particular friend is here. When she regained normal consciousness, she thought to herself whether she could possibly become ill from such an inflammation of the blood as described before, if she would not let blood. The voice immediately replied to the thought that this could happen, because the excess of heat in the blood itself could become so great that nature could not bear it. Bloodletting therefore leads to a diminishing of the heat, which makes it more tolerable. And the voice added by saying, “Sometimes, blood will distribute that heat throughout the whole body to all limbs so that, when the blood has become hot through devotion, all limbs become pleasantly warmed, but without sexual overtones and blemish.” Chapter Seventy-Nine. Regarding the Horror of This Girl’s Sadness/Depression One day, after she had taken communion, she was filled with the usual sweetness of that life-giving manna in her bodily as much as in her spiritual sense of taste. And after she remained in this state for a certain part of the day, she began to lose her physical strength. And because the time arrived to say the canonical hours,

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she tore herself away from that consolation and discharged her duty to God by reading the hours. And because of this she fell into great sadness, thinking about her miseries and defects, which she began to exaggerate and to magnify, although in truth she was not poor but rich in grace. And after a short time, she was granted a state of ecstasy, and a voice spoke within her, reprimanding her for her sadness. And it was shown to her that as she cleaned her teeth with a knife that she owned, she pulled two flies from her teeth. And soon thereafter, when she returned to a normal state of consciousness, she heard the usual voice saying to her rather harshly, “As these flies are disgusting to humans, so is your sadness to God.” Chapter One Hundred Fourteen. Regarding the Stories Told by Holy Virgins about What and How Much They Have Suffered Because of the Lord During these days, around the noon hour, the hand of the Lord came upon her. And the Lord appeared to her in a garment shining like the sun, accompanied to the left and right by two groups of people dressed in white. And the Lord said to her, “Would you not like to be with them?” She said, “Indeed, o Lord.” The Lord encouraged her and said, “Find out from them in what way and how much they suffered because of the Lord.” And first Blessed Catherine, then Blessed Lucy, Blessed Christina, Blessed Agnes, Blessed Agatha and the other virgins and martyrs who stood to the right of the Lord told her what and how much they had suffered. And they carried the emblems of their passions with them as if painted on a wooden board and that painting seemed as if alive or having life. Then she thought, “Lord, I am not worthy to suffer for you in such a way.” Then the Lord showed her Blessed Job in the second group [of saints] to his left, all of which were of remarkable beauty. And the Lord said, “Since you cannot reach out to martyrdom because of the absence of a persecution of Christians, suffer nonetheless physical infirmities and illnesses out of your free will, together with Blessed Job, who gladly endured them out of love for me.” At that time, she suffered from grave physical pain. Chapter One Hundred Eighteen. Regarding the Devout Soul in the Bridal Chamber of Contemplation and the Female Head of the Household Who Accomplishes Five Things in Her Home One day, I read to her something by Blessed Bernard [of Clairvaux] on the Song of Songs, how the Soulbride renounces all other affections and throws herself completely into love. She intensely thought about this in her mind and wondered how she [the Soulbride] did not strive for honor, because this also is known from Blessed Bernard’s statements that God, inasmuch as He is Bridegroom, does not demand anything but to be loved. And when she contemplated this in her mind, she heard a voice within her saying to her, “The devout soul in the bridal chamber

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of contemplation, like a bride, does not strive after anything but love. But in all else she resembles a female innkeeper or the female head of the household in the home and a female housekeeper, because in managing the home, a female head of the household accomplishes five things in the house in fear of her spouse and in his honor. First, she is mindful of the education of sons and daughters in morals and discipline. Thus internally, a holy soul looks rather solicitously upon herself, and externally, she provides for the custody of the senses and coordinates internal motion and external mores. Second, the female head of the household rules the family by employing [them] in their obligatory tasks. Thus, the devout soul subjects them to due service by working corporally. Third, a female head of the household is greatly accommodating in herself and in her works and activities. Thus the devout soul is well ordered and moderate in all of her activities, that is, in vigils, fasts, prayers and other deeds. Fourth, a female head of the household is concerned about the ways in which she may please the spouse and serve his will. And thus the devout soul strives after how to please God and how to implement His will and takes care not to offend Him. Fifth, a female head of the household displays compassion and piety towards all who approach her with a request, satisfying each as she is able to. Thus, the devout soul is prepared to edify or console her fellow man or woman through the help of prayers, counsel, consolations, exhortations and anything else that she is able to.” And much was shown in this revelation, in what things someone would abound or in what things someone would be lacking. And it was told to her that the soul, inasmuch as she is in the bridal chamber of contemplation, behaves and conducts herself like a bride and there does not know anything but to love and be open to love and there to strive intensely like a bride etc. Chapter One Hundred Twenty-Two. Regarding the Complaints of All Elements about Those Who Have Taken Religious Vows At one time, when she came into the spirit, she saw and heard [supernaturally], and a voice came to her that said, “All elements complain about those who have taken religious vows. The fire, that is, the fire of Divine Love, complains that certain religious [i.e., those who have taken vows] repel that fire of Divine Love away from themselves in three ways.” And when she had heard this voice, she saw [supernaturally] and three symbols of those three types of rejection appeared to her. Indeed, she saw boiling pitch and the extremely vile brood of water frogs and a certain type of vermin called scorpion. These appeared in the middle of the fire, yet in such a way that a certain darkness existed between them and the fire.

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These symbolize the external activities and the worldly business transactions in which certain religious get involved at times, also the hope regarding [their] savings to which they flee when they wish, taking their financial support from it, [and] also their care for meat in gluttonous desire. In the same way, the earth is complaining, because, as it was told her, God gave all honor to the earth in that He took His body from the earth, in that He soaked the earth with His sacred blood, because His body of earth is consecrated daily, because bread grows from the earth. The Lord did all of this because of that earth who carries the soul, that is, the human body. The nature of the human body is taken from the earth to serve God and to train itself bodily in service to God, and because certain religious do not engage in this, therefore the earth complains. And she saw there again three obstacles, namely a heap of manure, liquified pitch, lead and wax mixed together and a light in a black and darkened lantern. These are greed, lasciviousness, and physical laziness, which stain the soul. Like pitch, they inflame the soul, like liquid lead, which is very hot, they make the soul malleable and soft towards everything reckless much like wax is malleable. The dark lantern represents a lack of generosity and a difficulty regarding obligations, because they are obstinate and sluggish regarding that for which they are held responsible, and it is necessary to prod them like cattle, after which they do not offer anything above and beyond in terms of special devotional exercises or devotions. The air complains, that is the words which communicate. And again she saw three [aspects or things], namely, intemperance of the air, actually, wind and turbulent clouds, flashing and whistling something sweet through a whistle. These are the words of blasphemy and cursing and horrible words, also leisurely chitchat, witty and teasing speech and words that make people laugh. The water complains, that is the sanctification that is effected by the Holy Spirit. There she saw three [aspects or things], namely turbulent water, white crystals with black spots, and honey spiked with the sharp tips of bee stings sticking out. These represent the violation of baptismal innocence, carelessness regarding tearful expiation [of sins] and the neglect of the sweetness of devotion due to other cares. The voice appeared for each element that symbolized the mentioned vices and explained everything as it has been said. This vision, however, includes only religious, whether living in a monastic context or in the world, [and] who were committed to divine service. In each single element she saw many whom she recognized from various orders and ranks. Chapter One Hundred Eighty-One. Regarding a Vision of all Human Beings in Twelve Distinct Divisions and Their Different Conditions In this vision, while in God, she saw all the hosts of heaven, angels and saints. She also saw all human beings who live on earth, which are subdivided into twelve divisions and parts.

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In the first part, humans appeared as if mutilated, having nothing of a human being except for the face, which was extremely ugly. And they lay as if dead and unmovable. And these are the heathen in whom there is only the image of God, but they are cut off from every virtue and grace. In the second section were those human beings who had complete human characteristics, but who were black and blind and lying as if dead. And these are the Jews, blind in faith and in the writings of sacred faith. The third were skinned alive; running to and fro, they splattered others, whom they touched, with their blood. These are the heretics, who, running around the world, never stop defiling souls with their errors. The fourth were the apostates, of whom there are many who bring much harm to the Church. The fifth were the thoughtless sinners who, without shame and fear, sin publicly and attempt to sin as much as they can. The sixth are the worldly humans, caught in sins but not so publicly. Rather, adorned with a certain respectability of conduct in the eyes of others, they nonetheless engage in fornication and adultery and usury and similar things and give alms to the poor, attend church and aspire to similar good deeds. The seventh are the hypocrites, who are understood to be all evil religious, all evil prelates, all evil priests. These seven orders are all in the state of damnation unless they convert. There exist five other groups who are in good standing. The first are the well married and those who participate in the vita activa, who try to serve God according to their possibilities and abstain from all mortal sin. The second are the devout widows and widowers who live a chaste life in the world. The third are the religious who live under [the vow of] obedience; they enjoy great merit in God because under [the vow of] obedience, nothing is too small that they perform. For this they will reap rewards, even for every step or turn, more so than others who do or do not so out of their own will, just as it pleases them. . . . The fourth are those human beings who are dedicated to devotion from the heart and to bodily mortification out of love for God. They enjoy great merit, since because of their bodily castigation, they are martyrs, and through their mortification, they triumph over the Enemy and vices as other martyrs have triumphed through their suffering. . . . Therefore, like good merchants, they accumulate great treasures of merit. The fifth are excellent contemplatives, elevated to God spiritually, united with God through love, endowed with a special friendship with God. They please God so much that their ordinary conversation with God is accepted much like the prayer of a person from among the good ordinary people. They will never be disappointed in their desire if they wish for something from God from [the bottom of] their hearts. In the same way, whenever they pray for God’s mercy for someone, it will not happen at the end that the person will be separated from God. In

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the same way, God finds more pleasure in them than in heaven, because they achieved such perfection while in their fragile body, with the help of grace, and [yet] they still remain in steady effort and eagerness for progress. In the same way all heavenly hosts rejoice over them, because through them, the Lord receives great honor and fame on earth. Chapter Two Hundred Eleven. Regarding the Dancing Faith After some days, it happened that she talked with me about the Catholic faith. And after we took leave from each other, she herself began to think about the faith, since she possessed great devotion and pleasure in the faith of Christ. And on the same day in church, during the Compline of the Brothers not far from the altar of the Blessed Virgin, the hand of the Lord came over her. And behold, a young woman appeared, with the most beautiful face and a golden crown and something that seemed to be made of delicate and long silk. And clapping her hands, with a happy countenance she festively danced on the highest step around the altar of the Blessed Virgin. She was also bathed in a boundless light of many colors. This virgin, however, wondered who this girl might be that danced so happily and moved so proudly. Then the girl told her, “I am your faith. The other virtues pledged themselves to humility; I alone, on the other hand, seized pride and glory for myself, because they belong to me.” But she [Agnes] did not understand this, how pride could belong to her. Then the girl said, “I am proud and praiseworthy above all sects and false teachings which are putrid in the sight of God. I alone enjoy truth and I possess it.” Within a short while, this apparition had consoled, animated and physically strengthened this virgin who before felt desolate, sad and physically weak. Chapter Two Hundred Twenty-Five. Regarding the Seats of the Poor and the Rich, and of Diverse Types of Preachers After the Octave of Blessed Francis, she heard a sermon and it happened there that the hand of the Lord came upon her in a great light, and she saw the poor and the rich enter a place prepared for a feast. The poor, however, sat on a higher and worthier place above the rich. And nobody showed displeasure about this, but it rather pleased everybody, because justice required it, which all loved. When this vision disappeared, she came back to herself [her senses]. . . . BIBLIOGRAPHY Primary Sources Dinzelbacher, Peter, and Renate Vogeler, eds. Leben und Offenbarungen der Wiener Begine Agnes Blannbekin (d. 1315). Göppingen: Küemmerle Verlag, 1994.

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Secondary Works Dinzelbacher, Peter. “Die ‘Vita et Revelationes’ der Wiener Beguine Agnes Blannbekin (d. 1315) im Rahmen der Viten-und Offenbarungsliteratur ihrer Zeit.” In Frauenmystik im Mittlelalter, edited by Peter Dinzelbacher and Dieter R. Bauer 152–78. Ostfieldern bei Stuttgart: Schwabenverlag, 1985. ———. “Die Wiener Minoriten im ausgehenden 13. Jahrhundert nach dem Urteil der zeitgenössischen Begine Agnes Blannbekin.” In Bettelorden und städtisches Leben im Mittelalter und in der Neuzeit, edited by Dieter Berg 181–91. Werl: Dietrich Coelde, 1992. Ferrante, Joan M. To the Glory of Her Sex: Women’s Roles in the Composition of Medieval Texts. Bloomington: Indiana University Press, 1997. Mooney, Catherine M. “The Authorial Role of Brother A. in the Composition of Angela of Foligno’s Revelations.” In Creative Women in Medieval and Early Modern Italy: A Religious and Artistic Renaissance, edited by E. Ann Matter and John Coakley, 34–64. Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press, 1994. Newman, Barbara. From Virile Woman to Woman Christ: Studies in Medieval Religion and Literature. Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press, 1995. Simons, Walter. “The Beguine Movement in the Southern Low Countries: A Reassessment,” (http://matrix.divinity.yale.edu/MatrixWebData/Simonse.txt). Stoklaska, Anneliese. “Die Revelationes der Agnes Blannbekin. Ein mystisches Unikat Im Schrifttum des Wiener Mittelalters.” Jahrbuch des Vereins für Geschichte der Stadt Wien 43 (1987): 7–34.

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Birgitta Birgersdotter, Saint Bride of Sweden (1303?–1373) Sandra Straubhaar

King’s cousin, child bride, lady-in-waiting, mother of eight, widow, nun, founder of a religious order, prophetess, and reformer, Birgitta Birgersdotter stands out as one of the more striking figures of the tumultuous fourteenth century. The eight books of Revelationes received by Birgitta in the form of visionary messages from Christ and various saints, and subsequently dictated to various scribes, including Birgitta’s tutor and colleague Master Matthias of Linköping, and the two Peter Olofssons from Östergötland (Prior Peter of Alvastra [a Cistercian] and Magister Peter of Skänninge [a Dominican]), range in focus from firebrand outcries for church reform to philosophical arguments and impassioned devotional texts. As might be expected in the case of a writer who often disturbed her audience, Birgitta’s canonization in 1391, eighteen years after her death, was not uncontroversial; it was carefully reviewed, but not overturned, at the Council of Constance two decades later. Birgitta was related to the Swedish royal family on her mother’s side. The family’s holdings were at Finsta, Uppland, Sweden, where Birgitta was born in the winter of 1302–1303. Her father, Birger Persson, was a king’s counselor and prominent landowner. After the death of her mother, she was sent to Östergötland to live with an aunt. Birgitta had numerous spiritual experiences as a child, including a vision she received at the age of seven in which the Virgin Mary appeared to her and placed a crown upon her head. At thirteen, she married the eighteen-year-old knight Ulf Gudmarsson and moved with him to Ulvåsa, Östergötland, where the couple had eight children. Ulf died in 1344. In 1346 King Magnus and Queen Blanka, at whose court Birgitta had served in secular office, gave her the royal manor of Vadstena to rebuild as a monastic foundation. Birgitta traveled widely, including pilgrimages to Santiago de Compostela and Jerusalem (immediately prior to her husband’s death and her own death, 309

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respectively), and she spent extended periods of time in Rome, in order to present her petition for a new monastic order for both monks and nuns (Ordo Sanctissimi Salvatoris); to promote church reform, specifically the return of the papacy from Avignon; and to live where many early martyred saints had lived. In 1370, Birgitta’s proposed Rule for her new Order, which she had received by revelation some years earlier, was finally approved by Pope Urban V. (Birgitta’s Book IV, Revelation 138, was seen as having accurately foretold Urban’s death upon returning to Avignon later that year.1) Following Birgitta’s death in 1373, her daughter Katarina became the first abbess of the new community at Vadstena; other Birgittine communities were quickly established across Europe. The Ordo Sanctissimi Salvatoris lives today, though now only including nuns, despite attrition during the Reformation and the nineteenth century. The Birgittine community in England, currently housed at South Brent, Devon, is the only such community to have survived uninterrupted since its founding. A Birgittine house was re-established in the twentieth century by Swedish immigrant Maria Elisabeth Hesselblad [1870–1957], in the very building where Birgitta herself lived in Rome, in the Piazza Farnese. Subsequent tradition remembers Birgitta with praise. Margery Kempe of Lynn, the English visionary, traveler, and diarist of the generation immediately following Birgitta, was intimately acquainted with her Revelationes (“Brydys boke”); she mentions hearing it read to her a number of times. Perceiving herself later in life as having consciously followed in Birgitta’s footsteps, Margery lived a secular family life at first, which she later abandoned for an ascetic one of pilgrimages to various locations in Europe and Palestine. (Unlike Birgitta, though, Margery did not wait for her husband’s death to embrace celibacy.) When Margery visited Rome she was able to interview both Birgitta’s servant maid and a male former housemate; the former remembered Birgitta’s laughing face (“lawhyng cher”) and the latter that Birgitta had not affected particularly “holy” mannerisms but carried herself like an ordinary person. (“He wend lityl that sche had ben so holy a woman as sche was, for sche was evyr homly and goodly to alle creaturys that woldyn spekyn with hir.”2) One hundred years after Birgitta’s death, we find mention of her in Hartmann Schedel’s world chronicle, Chronicorum liber (Nuremberg, 1493); she is the only Swede of either gender in the book. Birgitta’s revelatory calls to reform come across as astoundingly assertive and rhetorically strong even today, as some of the examples below show. For example, Book IV, Revelation 49, includes the pope in its emphatic chastisement of materialistic clergy, not excluding the pope. It is not often in history that critiques arising from within a hierarchical religious institution, aimed at the topmost levels of that institution, receive as wide a hearing as Birgitta’s critiques did. However, it must be remembered that the contents of Birgitta’s critical revelations were not unique for their time; they embodied in stronger wording arguments already widespread among the clergy. Birgitta’s outsider status as a woman from

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the edge of the known world and her late-in-life dedication to the religious life paradoxically may have given her writing more, rather than less, credibility: even barbarians could tell that all was not well with the papacy! In this context, it is instructive to note that in the subsequent generation, when Birgitta’s chastising revelations no longer reflected current church politics, her canonization was deemed worthy of review at the Council of Constance. At that council, critics such as Jean Gerson (chancellor of the University of Paris) questioned the extrainstitutional nature of Birgitta’s inspiration; older critiques were referred to, including those from an unnamed and nonattending “dominus et magister” from Perugia who had written against Birgitta in the 1390s, stressing that women had no right to speak and write in God’s name. In any case, the canonization was eventually upheld.3 Birgitta’s devotional texts (see the extract from Book V below) are also framed in uncommonly strong language, focusing intensely on the physical elements of the Passion in ways that almost seem more sixteenth century than fourteenth century—generating a script for meditation for the personal use of individual readers. Specifically, Lars Bergquist (1988) sees Birgitta’s tortured Christ as precociously anticipating the crucified sufferer found in Ignatius of Loyola’s Exercises and the paintings of Matthias Grünewald, both of which were produced with much the same intentions.4 Birgitta’s recorded revelations seem to have been put into words in Swedish first, and later translated to Latin. Birgitta then took an active part in editing the Latin texts to match her original impressions (which may or may not have been verbal).5 This process hardly throws Birgitta’s authorial role in the production of the material in doubt, but it makes some sense to see the texts we retain as a collaborative effort. Birgittine Latin exhibits a number of frequently employed idiosyncratic usages, including the use of the verb stare for Christ on the cross (“stat,” “stetit in cruce;” see Quattuor Orationes below), presumably to emphasize Christ’s active participation in the process. (Note also that Birgitta “stands” in prayer; see the superscript to Book IV, Revelation 136.) Birgitta’s vision of the nativity of Christ (Book VII, Revelation 21, not included below), in which Mary, kneeling in prayer, gives birth miraculously “in the twinkling of an eye” (“in momento et ictu oculi”) from no particular bodily orifice, may have radically changed the iconographic representation of the Nativity in art.6 Another Birgittine anomaly, though not shown below, is the use of the noun natura to refer to the human genitalia.7 In today’s largely secular and Lutheran Sweden, Birgitta is still remembered and honored as a famous Swede who acted in the international arena, even though the average Swede could not tell you much about what she had to say. As of 1999, Birgitta is one of two choices (the other is Catherine of Siena) as patron saint of the European Union.

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The following texts offer an introduction to Birgitta’s complete works. They are selected in part to show the exceptionally broad range of her thought and concerns, including not only chastisements and devotional texts but also meditations on theodicy and admissions of her own inadequacies. Book IV of the Revelationes, dealing largely with calls to reform, is not anthologized nearly as often as her devotional texts are. Accordingly, it is given the most space below. NOTES 1. 2. 3. 4. 5.

6. 7.

Bridget Morris, Saint Birgitta of Sweden (Woodbridge: Boydell Press, 1999), pp. 116–17. Lynn Staley, ed. The Book of Margery Kempe (Kalamazoo, Mich.: Medieval Institute Publications, 1996), p. 99. Morris, Saint Birgitta, pp. 154–58. Lars Bergquist, Saint Birgitta (Lund: Swedish Institute, 1988 and 1996), pp. 12, 33. For example, the extremely lengthy Book V of the Revelationes (Liber questionum) was received on a horseback journey from Alvastra to Vadstena, a distance of forty kilometers, which took approximately one hour (Morris, p.87). If the revelation came into Birgitta’s consciousness word for word, it would have had to have been at a very high speed. On the other hand, one vita from shortly after Birgitta’s death does specifically refer to illa verba diuinitus ei data, “the words that were given her from God” (Morris, pp. 3–5). Morris, Saint Birgitta, pp. 135–38. Marguerite Tjader Harris, Birgitta of Sweden: Life and Selected Revelations (New York: Paulist Press, 1990), pp. 244–53.

SAINT BRIDE’S REVELATIONES, EXCERPTS Book I, Chapter 331 Tu autem, sponsa mea, debes esse quasi caseus, corpus tuum quasi formella, in qua caseus, donec figuram formelle habuerit, formabitur. Sic anima tua, que est michi dulcis et delectabilis sicut caseus, tam diu probari et purgari debet in corpore, donec corpus et anima in unum concordent et unam formam continencie ambo tenuerint, ut caro obediat spiritui et spiritus carnem regat ad omnem virtutem. Book IV, Chapter 492 Vni persone videbantur quasi quod esset in magno choro. Et apparuit Sol magnus, & lucens, duaeque sedes, quasi praedicator in choro erant, una a dexteris, aliaque a sinistris, distantes a Sole longo spatio, & intervallo, duoque radii de Sole ad 1

Sancta Birgitta, Revelaciones, ed. Carl-Gustaf Undhager (Uppsala: Almqvist and Wiksell, 1978), p. 338. 2 Heliga Birgittas originaltexter, ed. Bertil Högman (Uppsala: Almqvist and Wiksell, 1951), pp. 73–74, 84–86.

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sedes procedebant. Tunc vox una audiebatur de sede, quae ad sinistram partem erat, dicens: Ave Rex in aeternum, creator, & redemptor, justusque Judex. Ecce Vicarius tuus, qui sedet in sede tua in mundo, reduxit jam sedem suam in antiquum, & priorem locum, ubi sedit primus Papa Petrus, qui fuit Princeps Apostolorum. Respondit vox de dextera sede dicens: Quomodo (inquit) poterit intrare in Sanctam Ecclesiam, in qua foramina cardinum sunt plena rubigine, & terra? Ideo & postes inclinati sunt ad terram, quia in foraminibus non est locus, ubi uncini imprimantur, qui postes deberent sustentare. Uncini quoque sunt extensi ad plenum, nihilque curvati ad postes tenendum. Pavimentum vero totum effossum est, & conversum in foveas profundas, ad modum puteorum profundissimorum, quae nullum omnino habent fundum. Tectum autem est limitum pice, & ardet de igne sulphureo, stillans quasi pluvia densa. De nigredine vero, & spissitudine fumi, qui de abysso fossarum, & de stillicidiis tecti ascendit, omnes parietes maculati sunt, & ita deformes in colore ad intuendum, quasi sanguis commixtus putrida sanie. Ideo amicum Dei non decet mansionem habere in tali templo. Respondit vox de sede ad partem sinistram: Expone (inquit) spiritualiter, quae dixisti corporaliter. Tunc ait vox, Papa simulatur, & designatur in postibus. In foraminibus vero cardinum significatur humilitas, quae sic vacua debet esse ab omni superbia, ut nihil appareat in ea, nisi quod pertinet ad officium humile Pontificale, sicut foramen debet esse vacuum totaliter a rubigine, sed jam foramina, id est humilitatis insignia, sunt ita repleta superfluitatibus, & divitiis, & facultatibus, quae ad nihil aliud custodiuntur, nisi ad superbiam, quod nihil apparet humile, quia tota humilitas conversa est ad mundanam pompam. Ideo non mirum, quod Papa, qui similatur in postibus, inclinatus est ad mundialia, quae signatur in rubigine, & in terra. Propterea Papa incipiat veram humilitatem in se ipso, primo in apparatu suo in vestibus, in auro, & argento, & vasis argentiis, in equis, & aliis utensilibus, segregando de eis omnibus sola necessaria sua, alia vero erogando pauperibus, & specialiter his, quos noverit amicos Dei. Deinde moderate disponat familiam suam, & necessarios habeat famulos, qui vitam suam custodiant, quia licet in manu Dei est, quando eum velit vocare ad judicium, justum tamen est, ut habeat famulos propter roborandam justitiam, & ut eos, qui se contra Deum, & Sanctum Ecclesiae consuetudinem erigrunt, valeat humiliare. In uncinis vero, qui postibus conjunguntur, significantur Cardinales, qui extenti, & effusi sunt, in quantum valent, ad omnem superbiam, cupiditatem, & carnis delectamentum. Ideo recipiat Papa in manu malleium, & forpicem & flectat cardines ad velle suum, non permittendo eos habere plura de vestibus, & familia, & de utensilibus, nisi quantum requirit necessitas, & vitae usus. Flectatque eos forpice, id est verbis lenibus, & consilio divino, paternaque charitate, qui si noluerint obedire, recipiat malleum, scilicet ostendendo eis severitatem suam, faciendoque quitquit poterit, quod tamen non sit contra justitiam, donec flectantur ad velle suum. In pavimento autem significantur Episcopi, & Clerici saeculares, quorum cupiditas nullum habet fundum, de quorum superbia, & vita luxoriosa procedit fumus, ob quem abhominantur eos omnes Angeli in caelis, & amici Dei in terris. Ista enim Papa in

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multis emendare potest, si unumquemque permittit habere necessaria, non superflua, praecipiatque unicuique Episcopo attendere ad cleri sui vitam, & omnis qui noluerit emendare vitam suam, & stare in continentia, privetur omnino praebenda sua, quia carius est Deo, quod in loco illo non dicatur Missa, quam quod manus meretriceae tangant Corpus Dei. Book V, Chapter 133 Interrogacio Terciadecima Questio sexta. “Item cur malis datur maior prosperitas in mundo quam bonis?” Responsio questionis sexte. “Item, cur mali quandoque prosperantur in mundo magis quam boni, respondeo: ‘Hoc est indicium magne paciencie et caritatis mee et probacio iustorum. Nam si solis amicis meis darem temporalia bona, desperarent mali et superbirent boni. Sed ideo dantur omnibus bona temporalia, vt ego Deus, omnium dator et creator, diligar ab omnibus et vt, cum boni superbiunt, per malos erudiantur ad iusticiam. Intelligant eciam omnes, quod temporalia non sunt diligenda nec michi Deo preponenda sed habenda ad solam sustentacionem, et sint ad servicium meum tanto feruenciores, quo minus in temporalibus inueniunt aliquid stabilitatis.’” Book VII, Chapter 34 Reuelacio, quam beatus Franciscus ostendit domine Birgitte, in qua inuitauit eam ad cameram suam ad comedendum et bibendum, declarans ei spiritualiter, quod camera fuit obediencia, cibus eius fuit conuertere animas ad Deum, potus autem erat, quando conuersos videbat totis viribus Deum diligere et oracioni aliisque virtutibus cum feruore vacare. Cap. III. In festo sancti Francisci in sua ecclesia Rome in Transtiberim apparuit sanctus Franciscus eidem sponse Christi dicens: “Veni in cameram meam ad comedendum et bibendum mecum.” Quod ipsa audiens statim parauit se ad iter, vt visitaret eum in Assisio. Vbi dum per quinque dies moram duxisset, proponens tunc Romam redire, intravit ecclesiam, vt se et suos sancto Francisco commendaret. Cui tunc ipse apparuit dicens: “Bene veneris! Inuitavi enim te in cameram meam, vt mecum comederes et biberes. Scito tamen, quod hec domus non est camera, quam ego dixi tibi, sed camera mea est obediencia vera, quam ego semper tenui ita, quod numquam sustinui esse sine preceptore. Habui enim mecum continue presbiterum, cui in omnibus preceptis humiliter obedui, et hec fuit camera mea. Tu igitur similiter facias, quia sic placet Deo. Cibus autem meus, quo

3 Sancta Birgitta, Revelaciones, ed. Birger Bergh (Uppsala: Almqvist and Wiksell, 1971), pp. 144 and 149. 4 Den heliga Birgittas Revelaciones, ed. Birger Bergh (Uppsala: Almqvist and Wiksell, 1967), pp. 116–17.

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delectabiliter reficiebar, erat hoc, quod scilicet libentissime traxi proximos meos a vanitatibus vite secularis ad seruiendum Deo toto corde, et tunc velut dulcissimos morsellos illud gaudium gluciebam. Potus autem meus erat illud gaudium, quod habui, dum aliquos per me conuersos vidi Deum diligere et totis viribus suis contemplacioni et oracioni vacare, alios ad bene viuendum instruere et veram paupertatem imitari. Ecce filia, iste potus ita letificabat animam meam, quod omnia, que in mundo sunt, dissipiebant michi. Intra igitur hanc cameram meam et hunc cibum meum comede et hunc potum bibe mecum. Bibe ergo illud, vt cum Deo reficiaris in eternum.” TRANSLATION BY SANDY STRAUBHAAR Book I, Chapter 33: Cheese Exemplum But you, my bride, should be like unto a cheese, and your body like a cheesemold, in which the cheese is formed until it takes on the shape of the mold. Thus your soul, which is sweet to me and delectable like unto a cheese, should be tested and purified within the body until the body and the soul are in harmony and union, and both have the same configuration of self-control, such that the flesh obeys the spirit and the spirit leads the flesh unto all virtue. Book IV, Chapter 49: On the State of the Church It seemed to a person as if she were in a great congregation. And a great and shining Sun appeared and two thrones, like a preacher before the congregation, appeared. One throne was on the right hand, the other on the left. They were positioned some distance away from the Sun, and two rays of light shone from the Sun onto the thrones. Then a single voice was heard from the left-hand throne, saying, “Hail eternal King, creator, redeemer, and just Judge. Behold thy Vicar, who sits on thy throne on earth: he has now brought back thy throne to the ancient and original place, where the first Pope, Peter, sat, who was the Prince of the Apostles.” A voice responded from the right-hand throne, saying, “How (said the voice) could he enter Holy Church, where the openings of the hinges are full of rust and dirt? The doors have fallen to the ground as a result, for there is no fastening-place in the doorways for the hooks that are supposed to hold up the doorposts. Also the hooks are fully extended, rather than curved for holding the posts. Further, the entire floor has been dug up and consists of deep pits, like very deep wells that have no bottom at all. Also the roof is daubed with pitch and burns in a sulfurous fire which drips down like dense rain. Indeed, all the walls are stained from the blackness and density of the smoke which rises from the depths of the pits and distills down from the roof; they are discolored amazingly thereby, like blood mixed with putrid gore. Because of this it is not proper for a friend of God to stay in such a temple.” The voice said, “The Pope is indicated here, symbolized by the doors. Further, the

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openings of the hinges signify humility, which should be devoid of all pride, with nothing appearing there that does not pertain to the humble Pontifical office; thus the hinge-opening should be entirely devoid of rust. But now the hingeopenings, that is, the symbols of humility, are so full of excesses, riches, and power, that they are maintained for no other reason but for pride, showing no humility, because all humility has been replaced with worldly display. It is thus no wonder that the Pope, who is symbolized by the doors, has fallen to worldly things, which are symbolized by the rust and the dirt. Therefore, let the Pope himself take up a true humility, beginning with his magnificence in clothing, in gold and silver vessels, in horses, and in other useful things: he should sort out from all these things only that which he needs and then pay out the remainder to paupers, particularly those whom he would like to make friends of God. Then he should cut back his household to a moderate level, retaining those necessary servants he needs to stay alive. For although it is in the hand of God when He wishes to call him to judgment, it is, nevertheless, just for him to possess servants for the establishment of justice so that he can lay low those who have taken actions contrary to God and Holy Church. Further, the hooks which are joined to the doors signify the Cardinals, who are numerous and unrestrained in the way they indulge themselves in all pride, greed, and delights of the flesh. Therefore, let the Pope take hammer and scissors in his hand and bend the cardinals to his will, not permitting them to have more clothes, servants, or useful things, but only the quantities that necessity and the maintenance of life require. And let him bend them with scissors, that is, by soft words and divine counsel and fatherly love. And if they refuse to obey, let him indeed take up the hammer, showing them his severity and doing whatsoever he can (for this is not against justice) until they are bent to his will. Further, the floor signifies the Bishops and secular Clerics, whose greed has no limit and whose pride and luxurious living gives off smoke, for which they are hated by all the Angels in heaven and the friends of God on earth. Truly this Pope could amend many things if he permits each and every one to possess necessities, but not superfluities, and if he instructs each and every Bishop to attend to the life of his own allotment. And everyone who refuses to amend his life and live sparingly should be deprived of all his allotments. This is dearer to God; for in that place the Mass is not spoken, where meretricious hands touch the body of God.” Book V (Interrogations and Revelations: Christ in Heaven Responds to Questions Posed by a Monk on a Ladder) Chapter 13: Why Do the Wicked Prosper? Thirteenth Interrogation Sixth question. “Why is greater prosperity in the world given to wicked people than to good people?”

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Answer to the sixth question. “To the question, why do wicked people sometimes prosper in the world to a greater degree than good people, I respond: ‘This is a sign of my great patience and charity, and a testing of the just. For if I were to give worldly riches only to my friends, the wicked would despair and the good would become prideful. But worldly riches are given to everyone, so that I, God, giver and creator of all, may be worshipped by all; and so that when the good become prideful, they are taught justice by means of the wicked. Let all truly know, that worldly things are not to be worshipped, nor placed above me, but had only for sustenance; and let them be that much more fervent in my service, who find less stability in worldly matters.’”

Book VII, Chapter 3: Vision of Saint Francis Revelation shown by Saint Francis to Lady Brigitta, in which he invited her to his chamber to eat and to drink, declaring to her in spiritual fashion that his chamber was obedience, and his food was to turn souls unto God, and moreover that [his] drink consisted of seeing those converted souls worshipping God with all their strength, fervently devoting themselves to prayer and other virtues. Chapter 3. On the feast-day of Saint Francis, in his church at Rome across the Tiber, Saint Francis appeared to this same bride of Christ, saying: “Come into my chamber to eat and drink with me.” Hearing this, she prepared herself immediately for the journey, in order to visit him in Assisi. When she had stayed five days there, proposing then to return to Rome, she entered the church to commit herself and hers to the keeping of Saint Francis. The saint himself then appeared to her, saying: “Welcome! I did indeed invite you into my chamber to eat and drink with me. Know, though, that this house is not the chamber I spoke of to you. My chamber is true obedience, and I have always held to it in this way: I have never allowed myself to be without a guide. Indeed, I have had an elder continually with me, all of whose instructions I have humbly obeyed: and this was my chamber. You, therefore, shall do similarly, for such is pleasing to God. And my food, which I have feasted on with delight, was this: that with evident and greatest pleasure I have pulled my neighbors away from the vanities of a secular life to serve God with all their hearts; I dined on that joy then, like the sweetest of morsels. And my drink was that joy which I have had when I have seen those converted by me worshipping God, devoting all their strength to contemplation and prayer, teaching others to live well and imitating true poverty. And lo, daughter, this drink so delighted my soul that all things which are of the world fled defeated before me. Enter, therefore, this my chamber, and eat this food of mine and drink this drink with me. Drink it now, that you may feast with God in eternity.”

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BIBLIOGRAPHY Primary Sources Den heliga Birgittas Revelaciones, Book VII. Edited by Birger Bergh. Uppsala: Almqvist and Wiksell, 1967. Heliga Birgittas originaltexter. Edited by Bertil Högman. Uppsala: Almqvist and Wiksell, 1951. Sancta Birgitta Revelaciones. Book I. Edited by Carl-Gustaf Undhagen. Uppsala: Almqvist and Wiksell, 1978. Sancta Birgitta, Revelaciones, Book IV. Edited by Hans Aili. Stockholm: Almqvist and Wiksell, 1992. Sancta Birgitta, Revelaciones, Book V: Liber Questionum. Edited by Birger Bergh. Uppsala: Almqvist and Wiksell, 1971.

Secondary Works Bergquist, Lars. Saint Birgitta. Lund: Swedish Institute, 1988 and 1996. Harris, Marguerite Tjader. Birgitta of Sweden: Life and Selected Revelations. New York: Paulist Press, 1990. Morris, Bridget. Saint Birgitta of Sweden. Woodbridge: Boydell Press, 1999. Staley, Lynn, ed. The Book of Margery Kempe. Kalamazoo, Mich.: Medieval Institute Publications, 1996.

Appendix

Tables of Contents to Women Writing Latin: From Roman Antiquity to Early Modern Europe, Volumes 1 and 3: VOLUME 1. WOMEN WRITING LATIN IN ROMAN ANTIQUITY, LATE ANTIQUITY, AND THE EARLY CHRISTIAN ERA Part I. Roman Antiquity Women Writing in Rome and Cornelia, Mother of the Gracchi Judith P. Hallett An Introduction to Epigraphic Poetry Jane Stevenson The Eleven Elegies of the Augustan Poet Sulpicia Judith P. Hallett Women’s Graffiti from Pompeii Elizabeth Woeckner The Fragment of Martial’s Sulpicia Judith P. Hallett The Vindolanda Letters from Claudia Severa Judith P. Hallett Part II. Late Antiquity and the Early Christian Era Vibia Perpetua: Mystic and Martyr Judith Lynn Sebesta Faltonia Betitia Proba: A Virgilian Cento in Praise of Christ Bernice M. Kaczynski 319

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Inscriptions on Fabia Aconia Paulina Victoria Erhart Itinerarium Egeriae: A Pilgrim’s Journey Victoria Erhart Appendix Contributors

VOLUME 3. EARLY MODERN WOMEN WRITING LATIN Angela Nogarola (ca. 1400) and Isotta Nogarola (1418–1446): Thieves of Language Holt N. Parker Costanza Varano (1426–1447): Latin as an Instrument of State Holt N. Parker Cassandra Fedele (1465–1558) Diana Robin Laura Cereta (1469–1499) Diana Robin Conventual Life in Renaissance Italy: The Latin Poetry of Suor Laurentia Strozzi (1514–1591) Jane Stevenson Olympia Fulvia Morata (1526/7–1555): Humanist, Heretic, Heroine Holt N. Parker Luisa Sigea (1522–1560): Iberian Scholar-Poetess Edward V. George Johanna Otho (Othonia) and Women’s Latin Poetry of Reformed Europe Jane Stevenson Elizabeth Jane Weston (1581–1612) Brenda M. Hosington Bathsua Reginald Makin (1600–1675?) Anne Leslie Saunders Alpha Virginum: Anna Maria van Schurman (1607–1678) Pieta van Beek Appendix Contributors

Contributors

PHYLLIS R. BROWN is Associate Professor in the English Department and associated with the Program for the Study of Women and Gender at Santa Clara University, where she has taught since 1982. She has published articles on Louise Labé, Guillaume de Machaut, Heloise, and Anglo-Saxon poetry and is currently coediting a collection of essays on Hrotsvit of Gandersheim. Brown is also Faculty Director of the Peer Educator Program at Santa Clara University, and she edits Chronica for the Medieval Association of the Pacific. LAURIE J. CHURCHILL is Associate Professor of Humanities-Classics at Ohio Wesleyan University, where she also coordinates the Women’s Studies Program. She has been on the faculty at OWU since 1989. Churchill’s academic research and publications focus on Ovid’s erotic poetry and the representation of women in Latin poetry. Currently, she is working on a book with photographer Kippra Hopper on Women Artists of West Texas. She is on leave from academe while she considers reinventing her life in Truth or Consequences, New Mexico. MARK DAMEN studied at the University of Florida and the University of Texas at Austin, where he received his Ph.D. in classical studies. His work centers on ancient drama in performance, mainly Greek and Roman comedy and their intersection. He also performs regularly in theater classics, most recently The Winter’s Tale and Cyrano de Bergerac, and oversees the playwriting program at Utah State University, which produces a Festival of New Plays featuring works by local writers. 321

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FIONA GRIFFITHS, who completed her Ph.D. at Cambridge University in 1998, has taught at the University of Lethbridge and Smith College. Her research interests include the spiritual and intellectual worlds of medieval religious women, with a focus on the life and work of Herrad of Hohenbourg. Currently she is working on a monograph entitled Herrad of Hohenbourg: Women and Learning in TwelfthCentury Europe. JANE E. JEFFREY, Associate Professor of English at West Chester University, is the author of Blicking Spirituality and the Old English Vernacular Homily: A Textual Analysis (Lewiston, N.Y., 1989) and has published articles on Hrotsvit of Gandersheim and teaching medieval women. LINDA MCMILLIN is Associate Professor of History at Susquehanna University. She has written several articles on the women of San Pere and is currently coediting a volume of essays on Hrotsvit of Gandersheim. THALIA A. PANDIRI, Professor of Classics and Comparative Literature at Smith College, holds a Ph.D. in classics from Columbia University and is a Fellow of the American Academy in Rome. She chairs the Five-College Faculty Seminar on Literary Translation and is editor-in-chief of the translation journal Metamorphoses. She is currently completing a book on representations of maternal filicide and, as a research fellow with the Kahn Institute, is examining oral histories of the Greek refugees who survived the Asia Minor Disaster in 1922. DANIEL SHEERIN (Ph.D., University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill) is Professor of Classics and Concurrent Professor of Theology at the University of Notre Dame and a member of the faculty of its Medieval Institute. His research interests include patristic literature, liturgical studies, medieval Latin literature, and the controversial works of Erasmus of Rotterdam. ANNE COLLINS SMITH received her Ph.D. in philosophy from the University of Texas at Austin. She is presently Assistant Professor of Philosophy and Classical Studies at Susquehanna University in Selinsgrove, Pennsylvania. She specializes in ancient and medieval metaphysics and natural theology, with a sideline in philosophy in popular culture. STEVEN A. STOFFERAHN is a doctoral candidate in medieval history at Purdue University, Indiana. He is currently writing his dissertation in the field of Carolingian literature and culture. SANDRA STRAUBHAAR (Ph.D., German studies and humanities, Stanford University, 1982) teaches Nordic languages, literature, and culture in the Germanic Studies Department of the University of Texas at Austin. Her recent publications include “Holberg’s Apology for Zenobia of Palmyra and Catherine I” (Scandinavica 36.2); “Gustav Storm’s Heimskringla as a Norwegian Nationalist

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Genesis Narrative” (Tijdschrift voor Skandinavistiek 20.2); and “Nasty, Brutish and Large: Cultural Difference and Otherness in the Figuration of the Trollwomen of the Fornaldar sögur” (Scandinavian Studies 73.2). TATIANA TSAKIROPOULOU-SUMMERS graduated with a Ph.D. in classical philology from the University of Illinois, Champaign-Urbana. She has taught at Loyola University-Chicago and is currently a Blount Fellow at the University of Alabama. She regularly teaches courses touching on female experiences from antiquity to modern times. Her research focuses on Latin poetry and ancient poetic theory. ULRIKE WIETHAUS is the author of numerous articles and books on medieval Christian mysticism, including Ecstatic Transformation: Transpersonal Psychology in the Work of Mechthild (Syracuse, N.Y., 1995), Maps of Flesh and Light: The Religious Experience of Medieval Women Mystics (Syracuse, N.Y., 1993), and Dear Sister: Medieval Women and the Epistolary Genre (Philadelphia, 1993). The author’s full English translation of Agnes Blannbekin’s vita is published by Boydell and Brewer in the Library of Medieval Women series (2001).