EARLY MYSTIC LITERATURE.
‘Die tumpheit behaget ir alleine selbe,
die weisheit kan niemer volle leren.’
(_Mechthild the beguine._)
§ 1. Mystic writings for women in England.
The last chapter, in dealing with some of the women who distinguished
themselves in the cause of charity and philanthropy, has suggested in what
direction the determining feature of the religious life of women in the
13th century must be sought. Outward events, stirring political changes,
and awakening confidence in national strength, had largely increased human
sympathies and widened the mental horizon. In regard to women, who sought
their vocation outside the circle of home, this had led on the one hand to
efforts for alleviating human want and human suffering, on the other to a
stirring of the imagination in the direction of speculation on the value
and the help afforded by religious belief.
The different beauties of the active and the contemplative life had all
along been realized, and were currently represented by the figures of Mary
and Martha, types of divergent tendencies which were attractive in
different ways. The busy Martha with her charitable devotion was the ideal
of many women, since rescuing the needy, assisting the helpless, and
ministering to the sick constituted the vocation of women in a special
sense. But a peculiar charm of a different kind hung at all times round
the thoughtful and studious Mary, who set the claims and realities of life
at nought compared with the greater reality of the eternal life
hereafter. At the beginning of the 13th century, when the increase in
religious enthusiasm deepened yearnings for the apprehension of the
divine, men in their individual capacities began to seek a personal and
closer communion with God. The absorption by things spiritual as
contrasted with things material took a new departure. On one side was the
learned thinker who, trained in the knowledge of the schools, sought to
fathom his own powers and through them the powers of mankind so as to
transcend the limits of sensible existence, and who gave a new development
to mysticism in its technical sense. On the other side was the large
number of those who, no longer satisfied with the mediation of appointed
ministers of the Church, sought a personal relation to God, the effect of
which on themselves would be moral regeneration. It was in connection with
these that a number of writings were composed which represent mysticism in
its popular sense: the steps by which the divine can be approached, set
forth under the form of an allegory.
The allegorical mysticism of the Middle Ages culminates in Dante
(1260-1321). It is well to bear this in mind in the presence of minor
lights. For while there is much that is strangely fascinating in the 13th
century mystic, and touches of simple good faith and of honest directness
of purpose abound, the conditions under which he works and the language in
which he expresses himself cannot pass without criticism. Cloistered
seclusion, estrangement from the outside world, the cult of asceticism,
and insistence on the emotional side of life, if judged by the standard of
to-day, are not conducive to mental and moral welfare. Moreover a later
age always finds it difficult to understand that an earlier one had its
own notions in regard to the fitness and beauty of the surroundings it
made for itself. But productive genius at all times freely makes for
itself surroundings that cannot be called absolutely healthy. It needs a
certain effort to realise on what ground the 13th century mystic stands.
But when once we are able to follow him, moving in his world is like
walking in an enchanted garden,--enchanted to us, but real to him, where
each growing sentiment and each budding thought has its peculiar charm.
It is the same with regard to the language in which the mystic expresses
himself. The close communion he seeks with the Godhead leads him to use
terms which are directly adopted from those which express the experiences
and feelings of ordinary life. There is in him no shrinking from holding
God and the saints as personalities, and no hesitation in expressing
desire for things spiritual in language currently used for expressing the
promptings of desire for things of this world; for he is a realist in the
view he takes of God and the saints. The old interpretation of the Song of
Solomon supplied him with a model after which to form his conceptions, and
by a further adaptation it led every nun to greet her bridegroom in Christ
and every monk to greet his bride in the Virgin. Outside the convent the
age of romance had brought a new element into the relations of the sexes
and had accepted years of service and continued wooing as the steps which
led to the consummation of desire. This idea transferred to spiritual
relations now caused the mystic to dwell on the steps by which the Divine
can be approached. The poetry of romance and the poetry of mysticism have
much in common; both appear to have been the outcome of the same
sentiments differently applied in convent and court. And as the language
of real life made it possible for the mystic to formulate his feelings, so
his religious aspirations in their turn helped to spiritualise the
relations of real life.
It deserves special attention that some of the writings of these early
mystics are in the vernacular and include some of the most beautiful
productions in Middle English and in early German. Their philological
interest has recently led to their publication, but their social
importance is equally great. For in them we see how the high estimation of
virgin purity, which was in the fore-ground of the moral consciousness of
the age, was advocated by the leaders of thought and came to influence the
lives of individual women, and how the asexual existence which hitherto
had been accepted as praiseworthy was extolled as virtue in itself.
Again it is difficult for a later age to rate this conception at its just
value, for the depreciation of the relationship of sex is to the modern
mind not only misplaced but misleading. It is only when we think of the
gain this depreciation has helped to secure in self-control and
self-respect that it appears at all reasonable.
Of the early productions of the mystic school, which are distinctly moral
in tendency and personal in tone, none offer greater attractions than
works written in England during the first half of the 13th century for the
use of women who were vowed to religion. All these writings, some of which
will here be considered, are in the vernacular, and owing to their
measured grace and tone of delicate refinement are among the most
attractive monuments of Middle English. They are chiefly productions of
the south of England where the Saxon element had been preserved in its
integrity. Scholars have remarked how a certain roughness of diction and a
heroic element opposed to softness of sentiment lingered on in the north
and precluded the utterance of gentler strains, while the south used a
language of combined vigour and grace and became the cradle of lyric
poetry. Moreover the south at this period cultivated the qualities which
give to a movement its moral stamina. We find loyalty to the king coupled
with distaste for court pleasures, and strong religious feeling combined
with that insistence on nationality which precluded servile submission to
the Pope. The south was also in connection with the best intellectual
forces of the age as represented by the growing schools at Oxford, and
Oxford in its turn was in direct touch with Paris, which remained
throughout the 12th century the most important centre of learning and
education in Europe.
A few words must be given to this connection and its results, for it was
in Paris that the master-minds of Oxford acquired that enthusiasm for
study which, applied to the realities of life, became zeal for reform and
desire for moral regeneration.
Two lines of study are apparent in Paris. There is the mysticism of the
school of St Victor, represented by men of such mental calibre as Hugo (†
1141), a native of Germany, and his pupil Richard († 1173), a native of
Scotland. The combined influence of these two men on the English mind was
very great, for many productions of the English mystical school were
inspired by or adapted from their Latin mystical works. The writings of
Richard translated into English are frequently found in manuscripts by the
side of the works of the later English mystics, Richard Rolle († 1349),
and Walter Hylton († 1395).
On the other hand Paris was the first to experience the vivifying
influence of the renewed study of Greek philosophy, especially of the
Aristotelian _corpus_, together with its comments by Arabian philosophers,
especially with those of Averroes (fl. 1150). Jews from the south of
France had introduced these writings, which, repeatedly condemned but as
often advocated, had the effect on speculative minds of the introduction
of a new science[791]. Christian theology, rising to the occasion, adopted
their metaphysical views, though so radically divergent from its own, and
the result was the birth of scholastic philosophy. But where the
incompatibility of the union was felt scholars left the halls of
discussion and turned their energies to grappling with the problems of
active life.
In Oxford as early as 1133 Robert Pullen, who had studied in Paris, was
lecturing on week days and preaching on Sundays to the people, and during
the course of the 13th century a number of men who had won the highest
distinctions at the university,--such as Edmund Rich († 1240), Adam Marsh
(† 1257-8), and Robert Grosseteste (afterwards bishop of Lincoln, † 1253),
followed in his footsteps. Their efforts fell in with those of the newly
founded orders of friars, and they greeted as brothers in the spirit the
twelve Dominicans who arrived at Oxford in 1221 and the Franciscans who
came in 1224. These maintained an utter distrust of learning, which led to
much argument between them and the students, but all alike were zealous in
working for the welfare of the uneducated classes.
We are indebted to Thomas de Hales[792] for one of the earliest and most
beautiful poems written for the use of a nun. He was a native of Hales in
Gloucestershire, studied both at Oxford and Paris, and was under the
influence of the Franciscan movement. Wadding says in his annals of the
Franciscan order that ‘Thomas de Hales, created a doctor of the Sorbonne,
was most celebrated and is known not only in England, but also in France,
Germany, and Italy.’ Thomas was on friendly terms with Adam Marsh who had
become a Franciscan friar, and he joined this order himself as is apparent
from the superscription of his English poem[793]. Various facts suggest
possibilities as to his career, for Hales in Gloucestershire was the home
also of Alexander de Hales († 1245) who went to Paris and spent his
energies in compiling a work on scholasticism which secured him the title
of _doctor irrefragabilis_. Moreover in 1246 Hales became the seat of a
Cistercian monastery founded by Henry III.’s brother, Richard, earl of
Cornwall, who was intimately connected with the circle of men at Oxford
and a friend and patron of the Franciscans. It is possible that Thomas
owed encouragement to the learned Alexander or to Earl Richard. The year
1250 is accepted as the date when he flourished, but his English poem was
probably written somewhat earlier. This is suggested by the praise
bestowed in it on King Henry and his wealth, which could hardly have been
accorded later than 1240, for it was then that the king began to alienate
his people’s affection by tampering with the coinage and by countenancing
foreign influences at court and in the Church, in compliance with the
wishes of his wife, Eleanor of Provence.
The poem of Thomas is called a _Luve Ron_, that is a love song; it
consists of twenty-six rhymed stanzas with much alliterative assonance.
Falling in with the tendencies of the age it treats of the happiness in
store for women who accept Christ as their spouse. Thomas describes how he
came to advise a nun in her choice of a lover. As the translation of the
poem into modern English rhyme sacrifices much of its directness, the
stanzas which follow have been rendered as prose.
‘A maid of Christ bade me earnestly to make her a love-song,
That she might best learn how to take a faithful lover,
Most faithful of all, and best suited to a free woman;
I will not refuse her, but direct her as best I can.
Maiden, thou must understand that this world’s love is rare,
In many ways fickle, worthless, weak, deceiving,
Men that are bold here pass away as the winds blow;
Under the earth they lie cold, fallen away as meadow grass.
No one enters life who is certain to remain,
For here man has many sorrows, neither repose nor rest;
Towards his end he hastens, abiding but a short time,
Pain and death hurry him away when most he clings to life.
None is so rich nor yet so free but he soon must go;
Gold and silver, pomp and ermine give him no surety;
Swift though he be, he cannot escape, nor lengthen his life by a day,
Thus, thou seest, this world as a shadow glides past.’
The poet then enlarges on the transitoriness of terrestrial love. Where
are Paris and Helen, Amadis, Tristram, and others famous for their love?
‘They have glided from this world as the shaft that has left the
bow-string.’ Wealth such as King Henry’s, beauty such as Absalom’s availed
them nought. But the poet knows of a true king whose love abides.
‘Ah sweet, if thou knewest but this one’s virtues!
He is fair and bright, of glad cheer, mild of mood,
Lovely through joy, true of trust, free of heart, full of wisdom;
Never wouldst thou regret it if once thou wert given into his care.
He is the richest man in the land as far as men have the power of speech,
All is given into his hand, east, west, north and south.
Henry the king holds of him and bows to him.
Maiden, to thee he sends the message that he would be beloved by thee.’
The beauty of this lover, Christ, is thus described, and the fairness of
his dwelling, where hate, pride and envy enter not, and where all rejoice
with the angels. ‘Are not those in a good way who love such a lord?’ the
poet asks. In return for the bliss Christ grants, He asks only that the
maiden keep bright the jewel of maidenhood which He has entrusted to her.
The poem ends thus:
‘This poem, maiden, I send thee open and without a seal,
Bidding thee unroll it and learn each part by heart,
Then be very gracious and teach it faithfully to other maidens.
Who knows the whole right well will be comforted by it.
If ever thou sittest lonely, draw forth this little writing,
Sing it with sweet tones, and do as I bid thee.
He who has sent thee a greeting, God Almighty, be with thee,
And receive thee in his bower high up in heaven where He sits.
And may he have good ending, who has written this little song.’
From this poem we turn to the prose works written at this period for
religious women, which are inspired by the same spirit of earnest
devotion, and contain thoughts as tender, refined, and gentle as the poem
of Thomas de Hales. The prose treatise known as the _Ancren Riwle_[794],
the rule for recluses, is by far the most important of these works, and
from the present point of view deserves close attention, for it gives a
direct insight into the moral beauties of the religious attitude, and
enables us to form some idea of the high degree of culture and refinement
which the 13th century mystic attained.
A few words of criticism on the purpose of the book and on its authorship
are here necessary. We have before us a work written not for the regular
inmates of a nunnery, not for nuns who lived under the rule of a prioress
or abbess, but for religious women who, after being trained in a nunnery,
left it to continue a chaste and secluded life outside. The Church at all
times gave most honour to those monks and nuns who were members of a
convent and lived under the rule of a superior, but it did not deny the
credit of holy living, or the appellations monk and nun, to those who
either alone or with a few companions devoted themselves to religion, and
dwelt sometimes near a chapel or sanctuary, sometimes in a churchyard.
From the earliest times the people had held such male and female recluses
in special reverence, and the Church, yielding to popular feeling,
accepted them as holy, and in some instances countenanced their being
ranked as saints.
With reference to the distinction made from the earliest period between
the different classes of those who professed religion, and their
respective claims to holiness, it seems well to quote from the
introductory chapter of the rule of St Benedict. The following passages
occur in all the prose versions of the rule known to me, whether written
for the use of men, or adapted to the use of women.
The Anglo-Saxon version of the rule of St Benedict made in the 10th or
11th century, which is based on the version written by Aethelwold about
the year 961, runs thus[795]: ‘There are four kinds of monks, _muneca_;
the first kind are those in monasteries, _mynstermonna_, who live under a
rule or an abbot. The second kind are the hermits, _ancrena_, that is
settlers in the wilds (_westen-setlena_), who, not in the first fervour of
religious life, but after probation in the monastery, have learned by the
help and experience of others to fight against the devil, and going forth
well armed from the ranks of their brethren to the single-handed combat of
the wilderness, are able without the support of others to fight by the
strength of their own arm and the help of God against the vices of the
flesh and their evil thoughts. A third and most baneful kind of monk are
the self-appointed ones, _sylfdemena_, who have been tried by no rule nor
by the experience of a master, as gold in the furnace, but being soft as
lead and still serving the world in their works, are known by their
tonsure to lie to God. These, in twos or threes or even singly without a
shepherd, not enclosed in the Lord’s sheepfold, follow the enjoyment of
their will instead of a rule; whatever they think fit or choose to do they
call holy, and what they like not they condemn as unlawful. There is a
fourth kind of monk called wandering, _widscrithul_, who spend all their
life wandering about, staying in different cells for three or four days at
a time, ever roaming, given up to their own pleasures and the evils of
gluttony, and worse in all ways than the self-appointed ones.’
In the English versions of the rule for women, two of which, drafted
respectively in the 13th and in the 15th century, are extant, the same
distinctions are drawn between different kinds of nuns. The 13th century
version states[796] that there are the nuns living in a monastery under an
abbess, _mynecene_,--a kind of nun called _ancre_ or recluse,--the
self-appointed nuns,--and the wandering nuns who are declared altogether
evil.
The difference between the nun and the _ancre_ is made clear by these
passages. The _ancre_ or recluse, called in Latin _inclusa_, is the nun
who after receiving a convent education lives a holy life away from the
nunnery, and it is for _ancren_ or nuns of this kind that the book we are
about to discuss was written. Fortunately the work does not stand alone as
an exhortation to women recluses. We are in possession of a letter from
Ailred of Rievaulx, written between 1131 and 1161, and addressed to his
sister (sic), which was written for a similar purpose though covering very
much narrower ground, and contains advice analogous to that contained in
the _Ancren Riwle_. The original is in Latin[797], and in this form it was
probably known to the author of the _Ancren Riwle_, who refers to it,
saying how Ailred had already insisted that purity of life can be
maintained only by observing two things, a certain hardness of bodily life
and a careful cultivation of moral qualities.
The letter of Ailred is in the form of a series of short chapters and is
divided into two parts, the first of which (c. 1-20) treats of the outward
rule. It gives advice as to whom the _inclusa_ should converse with, and
whom she should admit into her presence; it tells her that she should not
own flocks, which leads to buying and selling; that she should live by the
work of her hands, not accepting as a gift more food than she needs for
herself and her servants; and that she must not do as some recluses do,
who busy themselves with ‘teaching girls and boys and turn their cells
into a school.’ It also directs her about divine service, and about her
food and clothes.
Having so far dealt with outward things Ailred (c. 21-46) dwells on the
inward life, on virginity, on the dangers of temptation and on the
beauties of humility and love. His sentences are short and are illustrated
by quotations from scripture, by reference to the holy virgin St Agnes,
and by remarks on the respective merits of Mary and Martha. The concluding
chapters (c. 47-78) are found also in the works of Anselm, archbishop of
Canterbury († 1109)[798], and appear to have been borrowed from him.
The letter of Ailred proves that the conduct of the recluse was attracting
attention in the 12th century. Part of his letter was translated into
Middle English by one Thomas N. in the 13th century, about the same time
when the _Ancren Riwle_ was drawn up, and in its superscription it is
designated as the ‘information’ which Ailred, abbot of Rievaulx, wrote for
his sister the _inclusa_[799]. In this translation, however, the opening
parts of the work which treat of the outward rule (c. 1-20) are omitted,
evidently because the translation was intended not for recluses but for
nuns, to whom directions about domestic matters, such as buying, selling,
clothing and eating, would not apply.
Further evidence can be adduced to show that women recluses in the 13th
century occupied public attention to an increasing degree. Hitherto they
had been left to dwell where they pleased, supported by chance gifts from
the people, but in the 13th century it became usual to leave them
legacies. A mass of information on the subject has been collected by
Cutts[800], who describes how women recluses occupied sometimes a range of
cells, sometimes a commodious house; and how they kept one or more
servants to run on their errands. In 1246 the bishop of Chichester issued
an injunction which shows that his attention had been drawn to these
women, and that in his mind there was a distinct difference between them
and regular nuns. Under the heading ‘On recluses’ (_inclusis_) it
says[801]: ‘Also we ordain that recluses shall not receive or keep any
person in their house concerning whom sinister suspicions may arise. Also
that they have narrow and proper windows; and we permit them to have
secret communication with those persons only whose gravity and honesty do
not admit of suspicion. Women recluses should not be entrusted with the
care of church vestments; if necessity compels it, we command it to be
done with caution, that he who carries them may have no communication with
the recluses.’
Taking these various remarks into consideration and comparing them with
what is said in the _Ancren Riwle_ itself, the author of which keeps clear
in his mind the difference between recluse and nun, I think the idea that
this work was originally written for the Cistercian nunnery at Tarent in
Dorsetshire, as is usually alleged[802], will be abandoned. This
assumption is based on the superscription of a Latin copy of the book,
which states that Simon of Ghent wrote it for his sisters the anchoresses
near Tarent (apud Tarente). But the theory that the book was originally in
Latin, and that it was written by Simon, archdeacon at Oxford in 1284, and
bishop of Salisbury between 1307-1315, has long been abandoned. The idea
that it was written for the nunnery at Tarent may also be discarded, for
Tarent was a house founded by Ralph de Kahaines in the time of Richard I.
Therefore at the time when Simon lived, and doubtless also at the time
when the book was written (1225-1250), the settlement must have consisted
of more than three women recluses and their servants. Women recluses might
be living at Tarent as elsewhere, since Simon forwarded the book to
recluses there, but they would not be members of the Cistercian convent.
It may be noticed in passing that the other Latin copy of the rule, which
was destroyed by fire in 1731, had a superscription saying that Robert
Thornton, at one time prior, gave it to the recluses (_claustralibus_) of
Bardney, which is a Benedictine abbey for men in Lincolnshire.
To relinquish the idea that the _Ancren Riwle_ was written originally for
the Cistercian nunnery at Tarent is to relinquish also the
supposition[803] that it is the work of Richard Poor, dean of Salisbury,
and afterwards bishop successively of Chichester and Durham († 1237), for
the theory of his authorship rests only on his interest in this nunnery,
to which he added a chapel and where his heart lies buried. A fuller
knowledge of the English writings of the time may reveal by whom and for
whom the book was written. The dialect proves it to be the production of a
native of the south-western part of England, while its tone reveals a
connection with Paris and Oxford. The writer must have had a high degree
of culture, and was familiar with French, with court poetry, and with the
similes so frequent in the stories of romance. He had a sound theological
training, with a knowledge of the works of Jerome, Augustine, Gregory,
Anselm, and notably of Bernard, from whom he frequently quotes. He had
strong religious sympathies, but imperfect sympathy with the established
church,--these latter facts tend to prove that he was in some measure
connected with the friars. His references to ‘our lay brethren,’ and his
description of the ‘hours’ as said by them, may serve as a clue to his
identification[804].
The _Ancren Riwle_ or rule for recluses, fills a moderately sized volume
and is extant in eight manuscript copies, of which five are in English,
that is four in the dialect of the south and one in that of the
north,--two in Latin, and one in French. The work is divided into eight
parts, a short analysis of which will give an idea of the importance of
the book and of the wide range of its author’s sympathies. As he says
himself the book was written for three sisters who in the bloom of their
youth had forsaken the world to become anchoresses, but he expects it will
be read by others. He assumes that his readers know Latin and French as
well as English, a fact which in itself proves that like the _ancren_
referred to above, the _ancren_ here addressed had received their
education in a nunnery.
In the short introduction which precedes the work the author says he will
accede to the request of the women who have importuned him for a rule.
‘Do you now ask what rule you recluses should observe?’ he asks (p.
5)[805]. ‘You should always keep the inward rule well with all your might
and strength for its own sake. The inward rule is ever alike; the outward
varies.... No recluse by my advice shall make profession, that is promise
to keep anything commanded, save three things, obedience, chastity and
stedfastness; she shall not change her home save by need, such as
compulsion, fear of death or obedience to her bishop, or her master
(herre). For she who undertakes anything and promises to do it at God’s
command, is bound to it and sins mortally in breaking her promise by will
or wish. If she has not promised she may do it and leave it off as she
will, as of meat and drink, abstaining from flesh and fish and other like
things relating to dress, rest, hours and prayers. Let her say as many of
these as she pleases, and in what way she pleases. These and other such
things are all in our free choice to do or let alone whenever we choose,
unless they are promised. But charity, that is love, and meekness and
patience, truthfulness and keeping the ten ancient commandments,
confession and penitence, these and such as these, some of which are of
the old law, some of the new, are not of man’s invention.’
He then goes on to tell them that if asked to what order they belong, they
must say, to the order of St James, who was God’s apostle (and who wrote a
canonical epistle). He dilates upon early Christian hermits and recluses,
saying that they were of the order of St James, for in his mind St James
the apostle is identical with St James the hermit.
He then describes the contents of his work, saying the first part only
shall treat of the outward rule, all the others of the inward.
The first part accordingly (pp. 15-48) is on religious service, and in it
the women are advised what prayers they shall say and at what time of the
day: ‘Let everyone say her hours as she has written them,’ and as a guide
take what ‘hours’ are kept by ‘our lay brethren.’ The sick, the sorrowful,
prisoners, and Christians who are among the heathen shall be called to
mind. The tone which the author occasionally takes has the full personal
ring of 13th century mysticism. (p. 35) ‘After the kiss of peace in the
mass, when the priest consecrates, forget there all the world, and there
be entirely out of the body, there in glowing love embrace your beloved
spouse (leofman) Christ, who is come down from heaven into the bower of
your breast, and hold him fast till he have granted all that you wish.’
Several prayers follow, one in Latin on the adoration of the cross, and
several in English which are addressed to the sweet lady St Mary.
Outward observances being disposed of, the author then advises the women
how to keep guard over the heart, ‘wherein is order, religion and the life
of the soul,’ against the temptations of the five senses (pp. 48-117). The
different senses and the dangers attending them are discussed, sometimes
casually, sometimes in a systematic manner. In connection with Sight we
get interesting details on the arrangement of the building in which the
recluses dwelt. Its windows are hung with black cloth on which is a white
cross. The black cloth is impervious to the wind and difficult to see
through; the white of the cross is more transparent and emblematic of
purity, by the help of which it becomes safe to look abroad. Looking
abroad, however, is generally attended with danger. ‘I write more
particularly for others,’ the author here remarks, ‘nothing of the kind
touches you, my dear sisters, for you have not the name, nor shall you
have it by the grace of God, of staring recluses, whose profession is
unrecognisable through their unseemly conduct, as is the case with some,
alas!’
Speech too should be wisely controlled, talking out of church windows
should be avoided, and conversation generally should be indulged in only
through the ‘house’ window and the parlour window. ‘Silence always at
meals,’ says the author, and quotes from Seneca and Solomon on the evil
effects of idle prattling. Hearing, that is listening too readily, also
has its dangers, for it leads to spreading untruths. ‘She who moves her
tongue in lying makes it a cradle to the devil’s child, and rocketh it
diligently as a nurse.’ In passages which show a keen insight into human
nature and which are dictated by a wise and kindly spirit, the author
among other examples describes how anyone seeking the recluse’s sympathy
for bad ends would approach her in plaintive strains, deploring that he is
drawn to her, and assuring her that he desires nothing but her
forgiveness, and thus by engrossing her thoughts more and more, would
perturb her mind by rousing her personal sympathy.
The sense of Smell also has its dangers; but in regard to the fifth sense,
Feeling, there is most need, the author thinks, of comfort, ‘for in it the
pain is greatest, and the pleasure also if it so happen.’ The sufferings
of Christ are analysed and it is shown how he suffered in all his senses
but especially in feeling.
The next part of the work (pp. 118-177) contains moral lessons and
examples. The peevish recluse finds her counterpart in the pelican which
kills her own young ones when they molest her. Like the bird, the recluse
in anger kills her works, then repents and makes great moan. There are
some fine passages on the effects of anger which is likened to a sorceress
(uorschup-pild) and transforms the recluse, Christ’s spouse, into a
she-wolf (wulvene). That women devotees often behaved very differently
from what they ought is evident from these passages, for false recluses
are likened unto foxes who live in holes and are thievish, ravenous and
yelping, but ‘the true recluses are indeed birds of heaven, that fly aloft
and sit on the green boughs singing merrily; that is, they meditate,
enraptured, upon the blessedness of heaven that never fadeth but is ever
green, singing right merrily; that is in such meditation they rest in
peace and have gladness of heart as those who sing.’ In one passage,
where the flight of birds is described, it says, ‘the wings that bear the
recluses upwards are good principles, which they must move unto good works
as a bird that would fly moveth its wings.’ From dumb animals wisdom and
knowledge can be learnt, says the author, giving as an example the eagle,
which deposits in his nest a precious stone called agate, which wards off
harm, and thus Jesus Christ should be cherished to keep off evil. In
another passage the author plays on the words _ancre_ and anchor, saying
that the _ancre_ or recluse is anchored to the Church as the anchor to the
ship, that storms may not overwhelm it. The reasons for solitary life are
then enumerated under separate headings, and passages from the Old and the
New Testament are freely quoted in illustration and corroboration of the
statements made.
The fourth part of the book (pp. 178-298) dilates on temptation, in regard
to which the writer holds that greater holiness brings increased
difficulties. ‘As the hill of holy and pious life is greater and higher,
so the fiend’s puffs which are the winds of temptation are stronger
thereon and more frequent.’ Patience and meekness are chiefly required to
resist the troubles of sickness, and wisdom and spiritual strength must
resist grief of heart, anger and wrath. Again the recluses for whom the
book is written are assured that they have least need to be fortified
against temptations and trials, sickness only excepted.
The imagery in which the author goes on to describe the seven chief sins
is graphic and powerful. They are personified as the Lion of Pride, the
Serpent of Envy, the Unicorn of Wrath, the Bear of Sloth, the Fox of
Covetousness, the Swine of Gluttony, and the Scorpion of Lust, each with
its offspring. Of the Scorpion’s progeny we are told that ‘it doth not
become a modest mouth to name the name of some of them,’ while the
Scorpion itself is a kind of worm, that has a face somewhat like that of a
woman, but its hinder parts are those of a serpent. It puts on a pleasant
countenance and fawns upon you with its head but stings with its tail.
Again, the sins are likened to seven hags (heggen), to whom men who serve
in the devil’s court are married. The description of these men as
jugglers, jesters, ash-gatherers and devil’s purveyors, gives interesting
details on the characters in real life by which they were suggested. Of
the comforting thoughts which the recluse is to dwell upon the following
give a fine example.
‘The sixth comfort is that our Lord, when he suffereth us to be tempted,
playeth with us as the mother with her young darling: she fleeth from him
and hides herself, and lets him sit alone, look anxiously around calling
Dame, dame! and weep awhile, and then she leapeth forth laughing with
outspread arms and embraceth and kisseth him and wipeth his eyes. Just so
our Lord leaveth us sometimes alone, and withdraweth his grace and comfort
and support, so that we find no sweetness in any good we do, nor
satisfaction of heart; and yet all the while our dear father loveth us
none the less, but doeth it for the great love he hath for us.’
In times of tribulation the recluse is directed to meditate on God and His
works, on the Virgin and the saints, and the temptations they withstood,
such as are related in an English book on St Margaret. Again and again the
writer, who does not tire of this part of his theme, dwells on the various
sins separately, and on the best way of meeting them.
The next part of the book (pp. 298-348) is devoted to an analysis of the
use and the manner of confession, the theory and practice of which in the
Church of Rome are ancient, but which the religious enthusiasm of the
Middle Ages elaborated into a hard and fast system. That
self-introspection and analysis are helpful in developing and
strengthening conscientiousness no one will deny, but the habitual
disclosure of one’s thoughts and criticisms of self to another, though it
may still afford support to some, has ceased to appear generally
advisable. Granted that the practice in the past served a good purpose,
the advice given in this book for recluses appears dictated by a strong
sense of fitness and moderation. The author considers confession powerful
in three directions: it ‘confoundeth the devil,’ it gives us back all the
good we have lost, and it ‘maketh us children of God.’ Under these
headings there is a long and systematic elaboration of the sixteen ways in
which confession should be made, viz. it should be accusatory, bitter,
complete, candid, and it should be made often, and speedily, humbly and
hopefully, etc. Stories out of the Bible and parables of a later age are
introduced in corroboration of each injunction. Under the heading of
candid confession the words to be used in self-accusation are interesting,
because it is obvious that a higher moral standard is claimed from women
than from men. The person who has committed sin is to address the father
confessor (schrift feder) in these words: ‘I am a woman, and ought by
right to have been more modest than to speak as I have spoken, or to do
as I have done; and therefore my sin is greater than if a man had done it,
for it became me worse.’ From the Gospels and the Fathers the writer
adduces strings of wise sayings which bear on the points he would impress
upon his readers. This fifth part of the book, he says, belongs to all men
alike, not to recluses in particular, and he ends by admonishing the
sisters in this way: ‘Take to your profit this short and concluding
summary of all mentioned and known sins, as of pride, ambition,
presumption, envy, wrath, sloth, carelessness, idle words, immoral
thoughts, any idle hearing, any false joy or heavy mourning, hypocrisy,
the taking too much or too little meat or drink, grumbling, being of
morose countenance, breaking silence, sitting too long at the parlour
window, saying hours badly or without attention of heart or at a wrong
time, any false word or oath, play, scornful laughter, wasting crumbs, or
spilling ale or letting things grow mouldy or rusty or rotten; leaving
clothes not sewed, wet with rain, or unwashed; breaking a cup or a dish,
or carelessly looking after any thing which we own and should take care
of; or cutting or damaging through heedlessness.’ These in the writer’s
eyes are the likely sins among the recluses whom he addresses and against
which he warns them to be on their guard. If they have committed them they
must forthwith confess, but trivial faults should be wiped away by prayers
said before the altar the moment the recluse is conscious of them.
Passing from the subject of Confession to that of Penance (pp. 348-383)
the author as he says borrows much from the Sentences of Bernard, the
general drift of which is in favour of self-discipline and implies
mortification of the flesh. In this context comes the reference to
Ailred’s (Seint Aldret’s) advice to his sister, who also was directed to
give the body pain by fasting, watching, and discipline, by having coarse
garments and a hard bed, and by bearing evil and working hard. But here
again the recluses addressed are told that in the eyes of their adviser
they incline rather to over-much self-denial than to over-much
self-indulgence.
The seventh part of the book (pp. 384-410) treats of the pure heart or of
love and is attractive in many ways. The sentiments developed and the
pictures described give one the highest opinion of the feelings of which
the age was capable, as reflected in this writer’s innermost being. The
beautiful parable where Christ woos the soul in guise of a king is well
worth repeating, for there we see the courtly attitude, which the age of
romance had developed in real life, receiving a spiritual adaptation.
‘There was a lady who was besieged by her foes within an earthly castle,
and her land was all destroyed and herself quite poor. The love of a
powerful king was however fixed upon her with such boundless affection
that to solicit her love he sent his messengers one after the other, and
often many together, and sent her trinkets both many and fair, and
supplies of victuals and help of his high retinue to hold her castle. She
received them all as a careless creature with so hard a heart that he
could never get nearer to her love. What would’st thou more? He came
himself at last and showed her his fair face, since he was of all men the
fairest to behold, and spoke so sweetly and with such gentle words that
they might have raised the dead from death to life. And he wrought many
wonders, and did many wondrous deeds before her eyes, and showed her his
power and told her of his kingdom, and offered to make her queen of all
that he owned. But all availed him nought. Was not this surprising
mockery? For she was not worthy to have been his servant. But owing to his
goodness love so mastered him that he said at last: “Lady, thou art
attacked, and thine enemies are so strong that thou canst not without my
help escape their hands that thou mayest not be put to a shameful death. I
am prompted by love of thee to undertake this fight, and rid thee of those
that seek thy death. I know well that I shall receive a mortal wound, but
I will do it gladly to win thy heart. Now I beseech thee for the love I
bear thee that thou love me at least after my death, since thou would’st
not in my lifetime.” Thus did the king. He freed her of her enemies and
was himself wounded and slain in the end. Through a miracle he arose from
death to life. Would not that same lady be of an evil kind if she did not
love him above all things after this?’
‘The king is Jesus Christ, the Son of God, who in this wise wooed our Soul
which the devils had beset. And He as a noble wooer, after many messengers
and many good deeds, came to prove His love and showed through knighthood
that He was worthy of love, as sometime knights were wont to do. He
entered in a tournament, and as a bold knight had His shield pierced
everywhere in the fight for His lady’s love.’
The likeness between the shield and Christ’s body is further dwelt upon.
The image of His crucified form hangs suspended in church, as ‘after the
death of a valiant knight, men hang up his shield high in church to his
memory.’
There is more on the theme of love that is very fine. The ideas generated
by knighthood are obviously present to the mind of the writer.
Interesting also is his classification of the different kinds of love. The
love of good friends (gode iueren) is first mentioned, but higher than
that is the love between man and woman, and even higher still that between
mother and child, for the mother to cure her child of disease is ready to
make a bath of her blood for it. Higher again is the love of the body to
the soul, but the love which Christ bears to His dear spouse, the soul,
surpasses them all.
‘Thy love,’ says our Lord, ‘is either to be freely given or it is to be
sold, or it is to be stolen and to be taken with force. If it is to be
given, where could’st thou bestow it better than on me? Am I not of all
the fairest? Am I not the richest king? Am I not of noblest birth? Am I
not in wealth the wisest? Am I not the most courteous? Am I not the most
liberal of men? For so it is said of a liberal man that he can withhold
nothing; that his hands are perforated as mine are. Am I not of all the
sweetest and most gentle? Thus in me all reasons thou may’st find for
bestowing thy love, if thou lovest chaste purity; for no one can love me
save she hold by that.--But if thy love is not to be given but is to be
sold, say at what price; either for other love or for something else? Love
is well sold for love, and so love should be sold and for nought else. If
thy love is thus to be sold, I have bought it with love surpassing all
other. For of the four kinds of love, I have shown thee the best of them
all. And if thou sayest that thou wilt not let it go cheaply and askest
for more, name what it shall be. Set a price on thy love. Thou canst not
name so much but I will give thee for thy love much more. Wouldest thou
have castles and kingdoms? Wouldest thou govern the world? I am purposed
to do better; I am purposed to make thee withal queen of heaven. Thou
shalt be sevenfold brighter than the sun; no evil shall harm thee, no
creature shall vex thee, no joy shall be wanting to thee; thy will shall
be done in heaven and on earth; yea, even in hell.’
And in a further development of this idea all imaginable good, Croesus’
wealth, Absalom’s beauty, Asahel’s swiftness, Samson’s strength, are held
out as a reward to the soul who responds to the wooing of Christ and
gives herself entirely into His keeping. ‘This love,’ says the author in
conclusion, ‘is the rule which governs the heart.’
The last part of the book (pp. 410-431) appears to be appended as an
after-thought, as it treats once more of domestic matters. ‘I said before
at the beginning,’ says the author, ‘that ye ought not, like unwise
people, to promise to keep any of the outward rules. I say the same still,
nor do I write them save for you alone. I say this in order that recluses
may not say that I by my authority make new rules for them. Nor do I
command that they shall hold them, and you may change them whenever you
will for better ones. Of things that have been in use before it matters
little.’ Practical directions follow which throw a further light on the
position and conduct of the recluse, and which in many particulars are
curiously like the injunctions which form the opening part of the letter
of Ailred. The recluses shall partake of Communion on fifteen days of the
year; they shall eat twice a day between Easter and Roodmass (September
14), during the other half year they shall fast save on Sundays; and they
shall not eat flesh or lard except in sickness. ‘There are recluses,’ says
the writer, ‘who have meals with their friends outside. That is too much
friendship; for all orders it is unsuitable, but chiefly for the order of
recluses who are dead to the world.’ A recluse shall not be liberal of
other men’s alms, for housewifery is Martha’s part and not hers. ‘Martha’s
office is to feed and clothe poor men as the mistress of a house; Mary
ought not to intermeddle in it, and if any one blame her, God Himself the
supreme defends her for it, as holy writ bears witness. On the other hand
a recluse ought only to take sparingly that which is necessary for her.
Whereof, then, may she make herself liberal? She must live upon alms as
frugally as ever she can, and not gather that she may give it away
afterwards. She is not a housewife but a Church ancre. If she can spare
any fragments to the poor, let her send them quietly out of her dwelling.
Sin is oft concealed under the semblance of goodness. And how shall those
rich anchoresses who are tillers of the ground, or have fixed rents, do
their alms privately to poor neighbours? Desire not to have the reputation
of bountiful anchoresses, nor, in order to give much, be too eager to
possess more. Greediness is at the root of bitterness: all the boughs that
spring from it are bitter. To beg in order to give away is not the part of
a recluse. From the courtesy of a recluse and from her liberality, sin
and shame have often come in the end.’
This idea, that the recluse shall follow the example of Mary and not that
of Martha, occurs also in Ailred’s letter, though it is more briefly
stated (c. 41 ff.).
‘You shall possess no beast, my dear sisters,’ says the author of the
_Ancren Riwle_, ‘except only a cat. A recluse who has cattle appears as
Martha was.’ She thinks of the fodder, of the herdsman, thoughts which
bring with them traffic. ‘A recluse who is a buyer and seller (cheapild)
selleth her soul to the chapman of hell.’ Ailred similarly warned his
‘sister’ against keeping flocks (c. 5 ff.). But the author of the _Riwle_
allows the recluse to keep a cow if need be. ‘Do not take charge,’ he
says, ‘of other men’s things in your house, nor of their property, nor of
their clothes, neither receive under your care the church vestments nor
the chalice, unless compelled thereto, for oftentimes much harm has come
from such caretaking.’ The clothes the sisters wear shall be warm and
simple, ‘be they white, be they black; only see that they be plain and
warm and well-made.’ He warns them against severe discipline by the use of
hair-cloth and hedgehog-skins, and against scourging with a leathern
thong. He desires them to have all needful clothing, but forbids wearing
rings, brooches, ornamented girdles and gloves. The recluse shall ‘make no
purses to gain friends therewith, nor blodbendes[806] of silk; but shape
and sew and mend church vestments, and poor people’s clothes.’ The point
Ailred in his rule strongly insisted upon, the command that the recluse
shall not keep a school as some recluses do, is reiterated by the author
of the _Ancren Riwle_, for the excitement it brings and the personal
affection it creates between teacher and pupil are felt to be fraught with
danger. If there be a girl who needs to be taught, the recluse shall cause
her to be instructed by her servant, for she shall keep two servants, the
one to stay at home, the other to go abroad, ‘whose garments shall be of
such shape and their attire such that their calling be obvious.’ The
recluse shall read the concluding part of this book to her women once a
week, but she herself is to read in it daily if she have leisure.
Such in brief outline is the _Ancren Riwle_, a book which above all others
gives an insight into the religious life as apprehended in the 13th
century in England; a book which, written for women--the number of whom
can never have been great, contains much that remains wise and instructive
to this day, owing to its wide outlook and liberal spirit. It gives the
very highest opinion of the author’s gentleness and refinement, and of the
exalted sentiments of the women he was addressing.
* * * * *
This is not the place to dwell on the numerous spiritual love-songs which
were written in English at this period under the influence of mystic
tendencies; but it must be pointed out that those which breathe the love
of a woman’s soul to Christ were presumably written in the interest of
nuns. Among them is one in prose, entitled the ‘Wooing of Our Lord[807],’
written by its author for his ‘sister,’ which has a certain likeness to
the ‘Ancren Riwle,’ and on this ground has been ascribed to the same
author. Probably it is a paraphrase of part of it, but it has none of the
harmonious flow of the treatise itself, and its tone is so much more
emotional, that it looks like the production of a later age.
The idea of the exaltation of virginity at this period further led to the
re-writing in English of the legends of women-saints whose stories turn on
the might of virginity in conflict with the evil powers of this world.
Among them the legends of St Margaret, St Juliana and St Cecilia, are
extant in a manuscript of about the year 1230. Their authorship is
unknown, but they were evidently written in the first place for religious
women.
In conclusion a few words must be said on a treatise written about the
same time called ‘Holy Maidenhood’ (Hali Meidenhad), the interest of which
lies in the fact that while advocating the same cause as the writings
discussed above, it is quite untouched by their spirit[808]. Here also the
advantages of the love of Christ over love for earthly things are enlarged
on, and the superiority of the ‘free’ maiden over her who has embraced
family life is upheld. But this is done in a broad familiar strain and
with repeated fierce attacks on marriage.
The author ornaments his treatise with Biblical quotations, but he
possesses none of the courtly grace and elegance of diction of Thomas de
Hales and the author of the _Ancren Riwle_. In form the treatise answers
to its drift, for it is written in an alliterative homely style which
gives it a peculiar interest from the philological point of view. Looked
at from the religious standpoint it yields a curious example of what the
tone and temper would be of one who, grasping the moral drift of the age,
remained a stranger to its tenderer strains. At the same time its author
is not without considerable insight into the realities of life and has a
sense of humour usually absent in mystic writings. The following passage
which dwells on some of the annoyances of married life give a good example
of this (p. 37).
‘And how I ask, though it may seem odious, how does the wife stand who
when she comes in hears her child scream, sees the cat at the flitch, and
the hound at the hide? Her cake is burning on the stone hearth, her calf
is sucking up the milk, the earthen pot is overflowing into the fire and
the churl is scolding. Though it be an odious tale, it ought, maiden, to
deter thee more strongly from marriage, for it does not seem easy to her
who has tried it. Thou, happy maiden, who hast fully removed thyself out
of that servitude as a free daughter of God and as His Son’s spouse,
needest not suffer anything of the kind. Therefore, happy maiden, forsake
all such sorrow for the reward reserved to thee as thou oughtest to do
without any reward. Now I have kept my promise, that I would show that to
be glozed over with falsehood, which some may say and think of as true:
the happiness and sweetness which the wedded have. For it fares not as
those think who look at it from the outside; it happens far otherwise with
the poor and the rich, with those who loathe and those who love each
other, but the vexation in every case exceeds the joy, and the loss
altogether surpasses the gain.’
The writer then recommends Christ as a spouse and gives a graphic
description of pride, which he considers a power equal to that of the
devil. He has such a lively horror of pride and thinks its effects so
baneful that, should the maidenhood he has been extolling be touched by
it, its prerogative, he says, forthwith breaks down. ‘A maid as regards
the grace of maidenhood surpasses the widowed and the wedded, but a mild
wife or meek widow is better than a proud maiden,’--a distinction which is
curious and I believe stands alone at this early period. The saints
Catharine, Margaret, Agnes, Juliana and Cecilia are quoted as maidens of
irreproachable meekness.
The treatise ‘Hali Meidenhad’ exists in one copy only, and there is no
evidence as to how much it was read. Its obvious purpose is to encourage
girls to become nuns, and this not so much on account of the beauties of
convent life, as because of the troubles in worldly life they would escape
by doing so.
§ 2. The Convent of Helfta and its Literary Nuns[809].
The mystic writings with which the present chapter has hitherto dealt are
works written for nuns, not by them, for of all the English mystic
writings of the 13th century, womanly though they often are in tone, none
can claim to be the production of a woman. It is different on the
Continent, where the mystic literature of the 13th century is largely the
production of nuns, some of whom have secured wide literary fame. Their
writings, which were looked upon by their contemporaries as divinely
inspired, are among the most impassioned books of the age. They claim the
attention both of the student of art and the student of literature. For
strong natures who rebelled against the conditions of ordinary life, but
were shut out from the arena of intellectual competition, found an outlet
for their aspirations in intensified emotionalism, and this emotionalism
led to the development of a wealth of varying imagery which subsequently
became the subject-matter of pictorial art. In course of time the series
of images offered and suggested by Scripture had been supplemented by a
thousand floating fancies and a mass of legendary conceits, which were
often based on heathen conceptions; and the 13th century mystic first
tried to fix and interpret these in their spiritual application. His
endeavours may appear to some a dwelling on fruitless fancies, but since
this imagery in its later representations, especially in painting, has
become a thing of so much wonder and delight, the writers who first tried
to realise and describe these conceptions deserve at least respectful
attention.
The convent of Helfta near Eisleben in Saxony stands out during the 13th
century as a centre of these mystic tendencies and of contemporary
culture, owing to the literary activity of its nuns. All the qualities
which make early mysticism attractive,--moral elevation, impassioned
fervour, intense realism and an almost boundless imagination,--are here
found reflected in the writings of three women, who were inmates of the
same convent, and worked and wrote contemporaneously.
The convent to which these women belonged was of the Benedictine order. It
had been founded in 1229 by Burkhardt, Count von Mansfeld, and his wife
Elisabeth, for the use of their two daughters and for other women who
wished to join them in a religious life. So many of the daughters of the
Thuringian nobility flocked thither that the convent was removed in 1234
to more spacious accommodation at Rodardesdorf, and again in 1258 to a
pleasanter and more suitable site at Helfta.
The convent was then under the abbess Gertrud[810] of the noble family of
Hackeborn, whose rule (1251-1291) marks a climax in the prosperity and
influence of the house. The convent numbered over a hundred nuns, and
among them were women distinguished in other ways besides writing. In the
annals of the house mention is made of Elisabeth and Sophie, daughters of
Hermann von Mansfeld;--the former was a good painter, and the latter
transcribed numerous books and held the office of prioress for many years
before she succeeded Gertrud as abbess. Reference is also made to the nun
Mechthild von Wippra († c. 1300), who taught singing, an art zealously
cultivated by these nuns.
This enthusiasm for studies of all kinds was inspired in the first place
by the abbess Gertrud, of whose wonderful liberality of mind and zeal for
the advance of knowledge we read in an account written soon after her
death by members of her convent[811]. She was endlessly zealous in
collecting books and in setting her nuns to transcribe them. ‘This too she
insisted on,’ says the account, ‘that the girls should be instructed in
the liberal arts, for she said that if the pursuit of knowledge (studium
scientiae) were to perish, they would no longer be able to understand holy
writ, and religion together with devotion would disappear.’ Latin was well
taught and written with ease by various members of the convent. The three
women writers who have given the house lasting fame were Mechthild,--who
was not educated at the convent but came there about the year 1268, and
who is usually spoken of as the beguine or sister Mechthild,--the nun and
saint Mechthild von Hackeborn, the sister of the abbess Gertrud, who was
educated in the convent and there had visions between 1280 and 1300,--and
Gertrud--known in literature as Gertrud the Great. Her name being the
same as that of the abbess caused at one time a confusion between them.
The writings of these nuns were composed under the influence of the same
mystic movement which was spreading over many districts of Europe, and
therefore they contain ideas and descriptions which, forming part of the
imaginative wealth of the age, are nearly related to what is
contemporaneously found elsewhere. In numerous particulars the writings of
these nuns bear a striking resemblance to the imagery and descriptions
introduced into the Divine Comedy by Dante. Struck by this likeness, and
bent upon connecting _Matelda_ of the _Purgatorio_ with a real person,
several modern students have recognised her prototype in one of the
writers named Mechthild[812].
The writings of both these women are anterior in date to the composition
of the Divine Comedy, and as they were accepted by the Dominicans,
certainly had a chance of being carried into distant districts. But there
is no proof that Dante had either of these writers in his mind when he
wrote in the _Purgatorio_ of Matelda as appearing in an earthly paradise
to the poet on the other side of the river Lethe.
‘A lady all alone, she went along
Singing and culling flower after flower,
With which the pathway was all studded o’er.
“Ah, beauteous lady, who in rays of love
Dost warm thyself, if I may trust to looks,
Which the heart’s witnesses are wont to be,
May the desire come unto thee to draw
Near to this river’s bank,” I said to her,
“So much that I may hear what thou art singing.”’
It is she who makes the triumph of the Church apparent to the poet while
Beatrice descends to him from heaven.
Without entering into this controversy, it is interesting to note the
similarity of the visions in which Mechthild von Hackeborn describes
heaven, and those which Mechthild of Magdeburg draws of hell, to the
descriptions of the greatest of Italian poets.
* * * * *
In order to gain an idea of the interests which were prominent at the
convent at Helfta it will be well to treat of the lives, history and
writings of its three women writers in succession,--the beguine
Mechthild,--the nun Mechthild,--and the nun Gertrud. Their characters and
compositions bear marked points of difference.
Mechthild the beguine[813] was born about 1212 and lived in contact with
the world, perhaps at some court, till the age of twenty-three, when she
left her people and came to Magdeburg to adopt the religious life. She was
led to take this step by a troubled conscience, which was no doubt
occasioned by her coming into contact with Dominican friars. At this time
they were making a great stir in Saxony, and Mechthild’s brother Balduin
joined their order. Mechthild lived at Magdeburg for many years in a poor
and humble way in a settlement of beguines, but at last she was obliged to
seek protection in a nunnery, because she had drawn upon herself the
hatred of the clergy.
The origin and position of the bands of women called beguines[814] deserve
attention, for the provisions made for them are evidently the outcome of a
charitable wish to provide for homeless women, and to prevent their
vagrancy and moral degradation. The name given to these women lies in
great obscurity. It is sometimes connected with a priest of Liège
(Lüttich) Lambert le Bègue (the stammerer, † 1172), a reformer in his way
whose work recalls that of the founders of orders of combined canons and
nuns, and who was very popular among women of all classes and advocated
their association. Many settlements of beguines were founded in the towns
of Flanders and Brabant, some of which have survived to this day; and in
German towns also the plan was readily adopted of setting aside a house in
the town, for the use of poor women who, being thus provided with a roof
over their heads, were then left to support themselves as best they could,
by begging, or by sick nursing, or by the work of their hands. These women
were not bound by any vow to remain in the house where they dwelt, and
were not tied down to any special routine. This freedom led to different
results among them. In some instances they were attracted by mysticism; in
others they advocated ideas which drew on them the reproach of heresy and
gave rise to Papal decrees condemning them; in others again they drifted
into ways which were little to their credit and caused them to be classed
with loose women.
In one of the houses allotted to these women in Magdeburg Mechthild spent
the years between 1235 and 1268, and during that time, under the
encouragement of the Dominican friars, she wrote prayers, meditations,
reflections on the times, and short accounts of spiritual visions, some in
prose, some in verse, which had a wide circulation. The fact of their
being written in German at a time when writings of the kind in German were
few, was the cause of their being read in lay as well as in religious
circles. These writings were afterwards collected, presumably in the order
of their composition, by a Dominican friar who issued them under the title
of ‘The Flowing Light of Divinity.’ Six of the seven books into which the
work is divided were composed before Mechthild went to Helfta, and the
visions and reflections she wrote after her admission were grouped
together in the seventh book. These writings were originally issued in the
German of the north, but the only German copy now extant is a south German
transcript, which was written for the mystics of Switzerland. The work was
translated into Latin during Mechthild’s lifetime by a Dominican friar,
but his collection only contains the first six books, the contents of
which are arranged in a different order. Both the German and the Latin
versions have recently been reprinted[815].
Among these writings were several severely critical and condemnatory of
the clergy of Magdeburg, who resented these attacks and persecuted
Mechthild. On this account she sought admission at Helfta, which was not
far distant from Halle, where her special friend the Dominican friar
Heinrich was living[816]. The nuns at Helfta were on friendly terms with
the Dominicans, who frequently visited them[817], and it appears that the
nun Gertrud the Great knew of the writings of the beguine and advocated
her admission to the nunnery. She came there in 1268 and lived there for
about twelve years; passages in the writings of her fellow nuns refer to
her death and burial[818].
With regard to her writings we are struck by their diversified contents,
by their variety in form, and by their many-sided sympathies. The ‘Flowing
Light of Divinity’ (Fliessende Licht der Gottheit), consists of a
collection of shorter and longer compositions, some in poetry, some in
prose, which may be roughly classed as spiritual poems and love-songs,
allegories, visions, and moral reflections or aphorisms. Against mysticism
the charge has been brought that it led to no activity in theological
thought and did not produce any religious reformation, but surely
enquiries into the nature of the soul and its relation to God such as
these are full of speculative interest, and have played no small part in
paving the way towards a more rational interpretation of the position of
man with regard to faith, to merit, to retribution and to the other great
questions of dogma.
Turning first to the poems which treat of spiritual love, many are in
dialogue, a form much used by the Minnesingers of the age but rarely by
its religious poets. Among them is a dialogue[819] between the Soul and
the queen Love, who sits enthroned. The Soul accuses Love (spiritual love
of course) of robbing her of a liking for the goods of this world, but
Love justifies herself by saying that she has given to the Soul instead
all that constitutes her true happiness. In another dialogue[820] the Soul
exclaims in wonder at Love, who in eloquent strains describes the power
that is within her. By this power she drove Christ from heaven to earth;
is it then to be wondered at that she can capture and hold fast a soul?
One of the longer pieces[821], less complete in form but more complex in
ideas, describes how a call comes to the Soul, and how she urges her
servants the Senses to help her to adorn herself to go forth to the dance,
that her craving for joy may be satisfied. The Soul justifies her desire
in strains such as these:
‘The fish in the water do not drown, the birds in the air are not lost,
The gold in the furnace does not vanish but there attains its glow.
God has given to every creature to live according to its desire,
Why then should I resist mine?’
The Soul then describes the various experiences which led to her union
with Christ, which she expresses in passionate strains suggestive of the
Song of Solomon.
Again, we have the Soul[822] complaining to Love of the ties which bind
her to the body, and Love directs her how to overcome them. Understanding
too discourses with the Soul[823], and the Soul admits the greater
capacities of Understanding, but she insists that Understanding owes to
her the capacity both of contemplation and spiritual enjoyment. In other
poems like points of abstract interest are touched upon. One of the most
curious of these productions is a dialogue in which Understanding
converses with Conscience[824] and expresses surprise at Conscience, whose
attitude is one of proud humility. Conscience explains that her pride
comes through her contact with God, and that her humility is due to her
contrition at having done so few good works.
The question of how far good works are necessary to salvation, in other
words justification by faith _versus_ justification by works, is a thought
prominent in the beguine’s mind, and gives the keynote to a curious and
interesting allegory on admission to the communion of the saints[825]. A
poor girl longing to hear mass felt herself transported into the church of
heaven, where at first she could see no one. Presently youths entered
strewing flowers,--white flowers beneath the church tower, violets along
the nave, roses before the Virgin’s altar, and lilies throughout the
choir. Others came and lighted candles, and then John the Baptist entered
bearing the lamb, which he set on the altar and prepared to read mass.
John the Evangelist came next, St Peter and so many more of heaven’s
inmates that the poor girl felt there was no room left for her in the nave
of the church. She went and stood beneath the tower among people who wore
crowns, ‘but the beauty of hair, which comes from good works, they had
not. How had they come into heaven? Through repentance and good
intention.’ There were others with them so richly clad that the girl felt
ashamed of her appearance and went into the choir, where she saw the
Virgin, St Catherine, holy Cecilia, bishops, martyrs and angels. But
suddenly she too was decked with a splendid cloak, and the Virgin beckoned
to her to stand by her side. Prompted by the Virgin she then took part in
the religious service and was led to the altar, where John the Baptist let
her kiss the wounds of the lamb. ‘She to whom this happened is dead,’
says the writer, ‘but we hope to find her again among the choir of
angels.’
This allegory was severely censured, and in a later chapter[826] Mechthild
says that a ‘Pharisee’ argued that it was forbidden for a layman, like
John the Baptist, to hold mass. Mechthild’s arguments in reply to the
charge are somewhat involved, but she boldly declares that John, who was
in close communion with God, was better fitted in some respects to say
mass than Pope, bishop or priest.
With Mechthild, John the Baptist, John the Evangelist and St Peter, patron
saint of the Dominicans, stand foremost among the saints of heaven. There
is a beautiful account[827] of a Soul who found herself in company with
God and the saints, who each in turn explained how they had helped to
bring her there.
Glimpses of heaven and hell are frequent in these writings, and a full
description of hell[828] and one of paradise[829] deserve special
attention from the point of view of mediæval imagery. Hell is here
characterised as the seat of Eternal Hatred, which is built in the deepest
depths from stones of manifold wickedness. Pride, as shown in Lucifer,
forms the foundation-stone; then come the stones of disobedience,
covetousness, hatred and lewdness, brought thither through acts of Adam.
Cain brought anger, ferocity, and warfare, and Judas brought lying,
betrayal, despair and suicide. The building formed by these stones is so
arranged that each part of it is occupied by those who were specially
prone to the various sins. In its depths sits Lucifer, above him
Christians, Jews and heathens, according to the kind of crime committed by
each. The horrors of their sufferings recall those pictured by Herrad, and
at a later period by Dante and Orcagna. The usurer is gnawed, the thief
hangs suspended by his feet, murderers continually receive wounds, and
gluttons swallow red-hot stones and drink sulphur and pitch. ‘What seemed
sweetness here is there turned into bitterness. The sluggard is loaded
with grief, the wrathful are struck with fiery thongs. The poor musician,
who had gleefully fed wicked vanity, weeps more tears in hell than there
is water in the sea.’ Many horrible and impressive scenes, such as the
mediæval mind loved to dwell upon, are depicted.
The picture drawn of paradise is correspondingly fair. According to the
beguine there is an earthly and a heavenly paradise. Regarding the earthly
paradise she says: ‘There is no limit to its length and breadth. First I
reached a spot lying on the confines of this world and paradise. There I
saw trees and leaves and grass, but of weeds there were none. Some trees
bore fruit, but most of them sweet-scented leaves. Rapid streams cut
through the earth, and warm winds blew from the south. In the waters
mingled earth’s sweetness and heaven’s delight. The air was sweet beyond
expression. But of birds and animals there were none, for God has reserved
this garden for human beings to dwell there undisturbed,’ In this garden
Mechthild finds Enoch and Elias who explain what keeps them there. Then
she sees the higher regions of paradise in which dwell the souls who are
waiting to enter the kingdom of God, ‘floating in joy as the air floats in
the sunshine,’ says Mechthild; and she goes on to explain how on the Day
of Judgment paradise will altogether cease to exist and its inhabitants
will be absorbed into heaven.
The beguine’s writings contain various references to herself and her
compositions, and considerable praise of the Dominican friars. In one
place[830] she describes how she was told that her writings deserved to be
burnt, but she turned in prayer to God as was her wont from childhood, and
He told her not to doubt her powers for they came through Him. ‘Ah Lord,’
she exclaimed in reply, ‘were I a learned man, a priest, in whom thou
hadst made manifest this power, thou would’st see him honoured, but how
can they believe that on such unworthy ground thou hast raised a golden
house?... Lord, I fail to see the reason of it.’ But the attacks against
her roused her to anger, and she closes the poem with a stern invective
against those who are false.
Another passage contains an autobiographical sketch of Mechthild’s early
experiences[831]. She says that when she was twelve years old she felt
drawn to things divine, and from that time to the present, a period of
thirty-one years, she had been conscious of God’s grace and had been saved
from going astray. ‘God is witness,’ she continues, ‘that I never
consciously prayed to be told what is written in this book; it never
occurred to me that such things could come to anyone. While I spent my
youth with friends and relations to whom I was most dear, I had no
knowledge of such things. Yet I always wished to be humble, and from love
of God I came to a place (Magdeburg) where with one exception I had no
friends.’ She describes how at that time two angels and two devils were
her companions, and were to her the representatives of the good and evil
tendencies of which she was conscious. The devils spoke to her of her
physical beauty, promised fame ‘such as has led astray many an
unbeliever,’ and prompted her to rebellion and unchastity. Obviously her
passionate nature rose against the mode of life she had adopted, but the
thought of Christ’s sufferings at last brought her comfort. She was much
perturbed by her power of writing. ‘Why not give it to learned folk?’ she
asked of God, but God was angered with her, and her father-confessor
pressed upon her that writing was her vocation. In another impassioned
account she describes how she was oppressed by a devil[832].
In the third book of her writings Mechthild says[833] that God pointed out
to her the seven virtues which priests ought to cultivate, and we gather
from this that she did not consider the clergy devout or pure-minded. In
further passages[834] she dilates on the duties of prelate, prior and
prioress, and severely attacks the conduct of a deacon of Magdeburg. Even
more explicit in its severity to the priesthood is an account[835] of how
God spoke to her, and told her that He would touch the Pope’s heart and
make him utter a prayer, which is given, and in which the Pope declaims
against the conduct of his clergy who are ‘straightway going to hell.’ In
the Latin translation God’s admonition is amplified by the following
passages: ‘For thus says the Lord: I will open the ear of the highest
priest and touch his heart with the woe of my wrath, because my shepherds
of Jerusalem have become robbers and wolves before my very eyes. With
cruelty they murder my lambs and devour them. The sheep also are worn and
weary because you call them from healthy pastures, in your godlessness do
not suffer them to graze on the heights on green herbs, and with threats
and reproof prevent their being tended with healthful teaching and
healthful advice by those men who are supported by faith and knowledge. He
who knows not the way that leads to hell and would know it, let him look
at the life and morals of the base and degenerate clergy, who, given to
luxury and other sins, through their impious ways are inevitably going the
way to hell[836].’
The friars, it is said, must come to the rescue and reform the world, and
Mechthild being especially inclined to the Dominicans dwells on their
usefulness to true faith in a number of passages[837]. There is a long
description of how God saw that His Son, with the apostles, martyrs,
confessors and virgins, was unable to lead back the people who had gone
astray, and therefore He sent into the world two other children, that is
the two orders of friars, to save them. In another vision[838] God
explains to Mechthild the special purpose for which He has lately sent
five new saints into the world, one of whom is Elisabeth of Thüringen
‘whom I sent,’ said the Lord, ‘to those wretched ladies who sit in castles
with much unchastity, puffed up with conceit, and so absorbed by vanities
that they ought to be cast into the nether regions. Many a lady however
has now followed her example in what measure she would or could.’ The
other saints are Dominic, who has been sent to reclaim
unbelievers,--Francis, who has come as a warning to covetous priests and
conceited laymen,--a new St Peter, the Martyr († 1252),--and the sister
Jutta von Sangershausen. History tells us of Peter that he was appointed
inquisitor against the heretics in Lombardy and murdered at their
instigation[839]; and of Jutta that, having lost her husband in 1260, she
placed her children in convents and went among the heathen Prussians where
she tended the leprous till her death four years afterwards[840]. From
later passages in the writings of Mechthild, written after she had come to
live at Helfta[841], it appears that she felt that faith was not
increasing in the world; perhaps she was disappointed in her exalted
anticipations of the influence of the friars.
The writings of Mechthild of this later period are more mystic and
visionary than those of earlier days. She is distressed at the troublous
times that have come to Saxony and Thüringen, and tells[842] how she fell
ill and was so perturbed that she lost the power of prayer for seventeen
days. Many prayers and visions, some of great sweetness and beauty, were
the production of these later days. A long allegory called the ‘Spiritual
Convent or Ghostly Abbey[843]’ shows the high opinion she had of life in a
nunnery. In this poem the inmates of the convent are personified as the
Virtues, an idea occasionally used during the Middle Ages, and one which
at a later date in England, as we shall hear afterwards[844], was handled
in a very different manner, the convent inmates being represented as the
Vices. In Mechthild’s convent Charity is abbess, Meekness is chaplain,
Peace is prioress, Kindliness is sub-prioress, and among the inmates of
the convent there is Hope the singing-mistress, and Wisdom the
schoolmistress ‘who with good counsel carefully instructs the ignorant, so
that the nunnery is held holy and honoured.’ Bounty is cellaress, Mercy
sees to the clothes, Pity tends the sick, and Dread sits at the gate. The
provost or priest is Obedience, ‘to whom all these Virtues are subject.
Thus does the convent abide before God,’ the poem ends, ‘... happy are
they who dwell there.’
The writings of Mechthild offer many more points of interest. Not the
least curious among her compositions are the amplified descriptions of
Biblical history, as of the Creation, the Nativity, and the early
experiences of the Virgin[845], which enter minutely into the feelings and
emotions of those immediately concerned and give them an allegorical and
spiritualised application. Short spiritual poems are also numerous, but so
much depends on their form that a translation cannot convey their chief
beauty. Their general drift is exemplified by the two following[846].
‘It is a wondrous journeying onwards, this progress of the Soul, who
guides the Senses as the man who sees leads him who is blind. Fearlessly
the Soul wanders on without grief of heart, for she desires nought but
what the Lord wills who leads all to the best.’
And again[847], ‘My Soul spake to her Spouse: Lord, thy tenderness is to
my body delightful ministration; thy compassion is to my spiritual nature
wondrous comfort; and thy love is to my whole being rest eternal.’
Thoughts such as these are found scattered up and down in the beguine’s
writings, and give one a high estimation of her poetic power, her ready
imagination and her mastery of language. Her vigorous nature guided into
the channel of spiritual aspirations frequently filled her poems with a
passionate eloquence.
In conclusion may stand a few of the beguine’s moral reflections, which,
if they are not borrowed from elsewhere, argue well for her power of
condensing thoughts into short sentences; but here also it is not easy to
find the exact words in which to render the chief points of these
reflections[848].
‘Vanity does not stop to think what she is losing;
Perseverance is laden with virtues.
Stupidity is ever self-sufficient;
The wisest never comes to the end of what he would say.
Anger brings darkness unto the soul;
Gentleness is ever sure of attaining grace.
Pride would ever raise herself aloft;
Lowliness is ever ready to yield ...
Sluggishness will never gain wealth;
The industrious seeks more than his immediate advantage.’
And the following,--which are the product of a later period and have in
them the ring of a deeper experience[849]--‘None knows how firm he stands,
until he has experienced the prompting of desire; none how strong he is,
until hatred has attacked him; none how good he is, before he has attained
a happy end.’
* * * * *
From the writings of the beguine Mechthild we pass to those of her
companion at Helfta, the nun Mechthild von Hackeborn. Her ‘Book of Special
Grace[850]’ consists entirely of visions or revelations described by her
and put into writing by her fellow-nuns; it was widely read, and gave rise
to similar productions in other nunneries. There are many early manuscript
copies of the book in existence; it was originally written in Latin, but
has been translated into German, English, Italian and French, and has
repeatedly been printed.
The visions are so arranged that those contained in the first part of the
book have reference to festal days of the Church, to Christ, Mary and the
saints. The second part treats of the manifestations of divine grace of
which Mechthild was conscious in herself, and the third and fourth
describe how God should be praised and what is conducive to salvation or
‘soul-hele.’ In the fifth part Mechthild holds converse with those who
have departed this life, chiefly members of the convent, for the belief
that it was possible to hold communion with the souls of the departed was
readily accepted at Helfta as in other religious houses.
A sixth and seventh part were added to Mechthild’s book after her death by
her fellow-nuns and contain information about her sister, the abbess
Gertrud, and details about Mechthild’s death and the visions other nuns
had of her.
The nun Mechthild von Hackeborn, who was nine years younger than her
sister Gertrud, had come to the house as a child on a visit with her
mother, and was so much attracted to it that she remained there. She is
described by her fellow-nuns as a person of tender and delicate
refinement, whose religious fervour was remarkable, and these
characteristics are reflected in her writings. She was often suffering,
noticeably at the time when her sister, the abbess Gertrud, died (1291).
She is praised for her lovely voice, and references to music and singing
in her visions are frequent. It is not quite clear when her fellow-nuns
began to put her visions into writing, presumably between 1280 and 1300,
and authorities also differ on the year of her death, which the
Benedictines of Solesmes accept as 1298[851], whereas Preger defers it
till 1310[852].
In the description of her visions Mechthild von Hackeborn appears
throughout as a person of even temper and great sweetness of disposition,
one who was not visited by picturesque temptations, troubles and doubts,
and who therefore insisted chiefly on the beautiful side of things; for
hell with its torments and the whole mise-en-scène of the nether regions
have no meaning and no attraction for her. In her revelations Christ, the
Virgin, and other members of the vast hierarchy of heaven enter as living
realities. She is particularly fond of the angels, whom she loves to
picture as the associates of men on earth and in heaven. In conformity
with the conceptions of her age Christ is to her the wooer of the soul,
the chosen bridegroom, who combines all that makes humanity attractive and
divinity sublime. Christ and the Virgin love to confer with Mechthild, or
rather with her Soul,--the terms are used indiscriminately,--and enter
into converse with her whenever she seeks enlightenment. Flowers and
precious stones, the splendour of vestments, and occasionally some homely
object, supply her with similes and comparisons.
The following descriptions occurring in visions will give some idea of the
spirit in which Mechthild wrote[853].
‘After the feast of St Michael ... she saw a golden ascent divided into
nine grades, crowded by a multitude of angels, and the first grade was
presided over by angels, the second by archangels and so on upwards, each
order of angels presiding over one grade. She was divinely informed that
this ascent represented the abode of men in this way,--that whoever
faithfully, humbly, and devotedly fulfils his duty to the Church of God,
and for God’s sake, to the infirm, to the poor and to travellers, abides
in the first grade, consorting with the angels. Again, they who by prayer
and devotion are closer to God and in nearness to Him, are devoted to
knowledge of Him, to His teaching and help, are in the next grade and are
the companions of the archangels. Those again who practise patience,
obedience, voluntary poverty, humility, and bravely perform all virtues,
mount to the next grade with the Virtues. And those who, opposing vice and
greed, hold the fiend and all his suggestions in contempt, in the fourth
grade share the triumph of glory with the Powers. Prelates who fully
respond to the duties the Church has entrusted to them, who watch day and
night over the salvation of souls and discreetly give back twofold the
talent entrusted to them,--these in the fifth grade hold the glory of
heaven as a recompense of their work with the Pre-eminences. Again, those
who with complete submission bow before the majesty of the Divine, and who
out of love for Him love the Creator in the created, and love themselves
because they are fashioned after the image of God, who conform to Him as
far as human weakness permits, and, holding the flesh subservient to the
spirit, triumph over their mind by transferring it to things celestial,
these glory in the sixth grade with the Rulers. But those who are
steadfast in meditation and contemplation, who embracing pureness of heart
and peace of mind make of themselves a temple meet for God, which truly
may be called a paradise, according to Proverbs (viii. 31) “my delights
were with the sons of men,” and about which it is said (2 Cor. vi. 16) “I
will dwell in them and walk in them,” these dwell in the seventh grade
with the Enthroned. Those who outstrip others in knowledge and
apprehension, who by a singular blessedness hold God in their minds as it
were face to face and give back what they have drawn from the fountain of
all wisdom, by teaching and explaining to others, these abide in the
eighth grade of the ascent together with the Cherubim. And those who love
God with heart and soul, who place their whole being in the eternal fire
which is God itself, love Him not with their own but with divine love
being the chosen ones of God, who see all creatures in God and love them
for His sake, friends as well as enemies, those whom nothing can divide
from God nor stay in their ascent--for the more their enemies attack them
the more they grow in love,--those who, fervent themselves, awake fervour
in others, so that if they could they would make all mankind perfect in
love, who weep for the sins and faults of others, because, indifferent to
their own glory, they seek but the glory of God, these shall for evermore
dwell in the ninth grade with the Seraphim, between whom and God there is
nought in closer nearness to Him.
‘During mass she (Mechthild) saw that a large number of angels were
present, and each angel in guise of a lovely youth stood by the side of
the maiden entrusted to his care. Some held flowering sceptres, others
golden flowers. And as the maidens bowed they pressed the flowers to their
lips in sign of everlasting peace. Thus angels assisted at the entire
mass.
‘And as the maidens advanced to partake of the communion, each of the
angels led her who was entrusted to his care. And the King of Glory stood
in the place of the priest surrounded by shining splendour, on His breast
an ornament in the shape of a branched tree, and from His heart, in which
lies hidden the wealth of wisdom and knowledge, flowed a stream which
encompassed those who advanced with a flood of heavenly joy.’
In the preceding passages we see Mechthild in the state of rapture called
forth by the moments of celebration and service; the extracts which follow
describe one of the divine visitations which came to her as a special
manifestation of grace[854].
‘On a certain Sunday, while they were singing the _Asperges me, Domine_,
she said “Lord, in what wilt thou now bathe and cleanse my heart?”
Straightway the Lord with love unutterable bending to her as a mother
would to her son, embraced her saying: “In the love of my divine heart I
will bathe thee.” And He opened the door of His heart, the treasure-house
of flowing holiness, and she entered into it as though into a vineyard.
There she saw a river of living water flowing from the east to the west,
and round about the river there were twelve trees bearing twelve kinds of
fruit, that is the virtues which the blessed Paul enumerates in his
epistle: love, joy, peace, long-suffering, gentleness, goodness,
benignity, meekness, faith, modesty, temperance, chastity[855]. This water
is called the river of love; thereunto the soul entered and was cleansed
of every stain. In this river there were numerous fish with golden scales,
which signified those loving souls which, separated from earthly delights,
have plunged themselves in the very well-spring of all good, that is, into
Jesus. In the vineyard palm-trees were planted, some of which stood erect,
while others were bent to the ground. The palms that stand erect are those
who despised the world with its flowers, and who turned their minds to
things divine; and the palms that are bent down are those wretched ones
who lie in the earthly dust of their misdeeds. The Lord in likeness of a
gardener was digging in the earth, and she said: “O Lord, what is thy
spade?” And He answered: “My fear.”--Now in certain places the earth was
hard, in others soft. The hard earth signified the hearts of those who are
hardened in sin and who know not how to be corrected either by advice or
by reproof; the soft earth the hearts of those who are softened by tears
and true contrition. And our Lord said: “This vineyard is my Catholic
Church, in which for thirty-three years I laboured with my sweat; do thou
labour with me in this vineyard.” And she said: “How?” To whom the Lord
replied: “By watering it.” And straightway the Soul ran eagerly to the
river and set a vessel filled with water on her shoulders, and as it was
heavy, the Lord came and helped her, and its burden was lightened. And the
Lord said: “Thus when I give grace to men, do all things performed or
borne for my sake seem light and easy. But if I withdraw my grace, then do
all things seem burdensome.” Moreover round about the palms she saw a
multitude of angels like unto a wall....’
In a similar strain the visions of Mechthild proceed, always gentle and
rarely impassioned but shining with the glow of endlessly changing
imagery. There is no limit to the pictures which rise before her mental
eye or to the points which suggest analogy with things divine[856].
‘To rouse the piety of believers in relation to the glorious image of our
Saviour Jesus Christ, on the Sunday _Omnis terra_ (the second after
Epiphany), that is on the day when the exposition at Rome of the image of
Christ takes place, she was granted this vision. On a mountain overgrown
with flowers she beheld our Lord seated on a throne of jasper decorated
with gold and red stone. The jasper which is green is typical of the power
of eternal divinity, gold represents love, and the red stone the
sufferings which He endured through love of us. The mountain was
surrounded by beautiful trees covered with fruit. Under these trees rested
the souls of the saints, each of whom had a tent of cloth of gold, and
they ate of the fruit with great enjoyment. The hill is emblematic of the
mortal life of Christ, the trees are His virtues, love, pity and others.
The saints rest under different trees according as they adhered to the
Lord’s different virtues; those who followed Him in charity, eat of the
fruit of the tree of charity; those who were full of pity, eat of the
fruit of the tree of pity, and so on according to the virtue each has
practised.
‘Then those who were ready to honour the holy face with a special prayer
approached the Lord, carrying on their shoulders their sins, which they
laid at His feet; and they were forthwith transformed into jewels of
glowing gold (xenia aurea). Those whose repentance had come out of love,
because they were sad at having offended God without having been punished,
saw their sins changed into golden necklaces. Others who had redeemed them
by saying the psalms and other prayers, had them transformed into golden
rings such as are used at festivals (Dominicalibus). Those who had made
restitution for their sins by their own efforts, saw before them lovely
golden shields; while those who had purified their sins by bodily
suffering, beheld them as so many golden censers, for bodily chastisement
before God is like the sweetness of thyme.’
The following is an example of a homely simile[857].
‘On a certain occasion she was conscious of having received an unusual
gift through the Lord’s bounty, when feeling her inadequacy she humbly
said: “O bounteous King, this gift, does it befit me who deem myself
unworthy of entering thy kitchen and washing thy platters?” Whereupon the
Lord: “Where is my kitchen and where are the platters thou wouldst wash?”
She was confounded and said nothing. But the Lord, who puts questions not
that they may be answered but that He may give answer unto them Himself,
made her rejoice by His reply. He said: “My kitchen is my heart which,
like unto a kitchen that is a common room of the house and open alike to
servants and masters, is ever open to all and for the benefit of all. The
cook in this kitchen is the Holy Ghost, who kindly without intermission
provides things in abundance and by replenishing them makes things abound
again. My platters are the hearts of saints and of chosen ones, which are
filled from the overflow of the sweetness of my divine heart.”’
From a passage in these books[858] we learn that a large number of
Mechthild’s visions had been put into writing by her fellow-nuns before
she was made acquainted with the fact. For a time she was sorely troubled,
then she gained confidence, reflecting that her power to see visions had
come from God, and indeed she heard a voice from heaven informing her that
her book should be called the ‘Book of Special Grace.’
She had all her life been distressed by physical suffering. During her
last illness she was generally unconscious and her fellow-nuns crowded
about her praying that she would intercede with God in their behalf.
* * * * *
Neither of the Mechthilds makes any reference in her writings to the nun
Gertrud, but Gertrud’s works contain various references to her
fellow-nuns[859], and it is surmised that Gertrud helped to put the nun
Mechthild’s visions into writing before she wrote on her own account. A
passage in her own book of visions[860] refers to revelations generally,
and the Lord explains to her how it is that visions are sometimes written
in one, sometimes in another language. This idea may have been suggested
by the fact that the beguine Mechthild’s writings were in German and the
nun Mechthild’s in Latin.
Gertrud was very different from both of these writers in disposition[861].
Probably of humble origin, she had been given into the care of the convent
as a child (in 1261), and in her development was greatly influenced by the
sisters Gertrud the abbess, and the nun Mechthild von Hackeborn. Of a
passionate and ambitious nature, she devoted all her energies to mastering
the liberal arts, but in consequence of a vision that came to her at
twenty-five, she cast them aside and plunged into religious study. She
mastered the spirit and contents of Holy Writ so rapidly that she began to
expound them to others. Then she made extracts and collections of passages
from the Fathers, out of which we are told she made many books. The
influence of her personality was such that ‘none conversed with her who
did not afterwards declare they had profited by it.’ The admiration she
aroused among her fellow-nuns was so great that they declared that God had
compared her to the nun Mechthild and that He said: ‘In this one have I
accomplished great things, but greater things will I accomplish in
Gertrud[862].’ As a proof of her industry we are told[863] that she was
occupied from morning till night translating from Latin (into German),
shortening some passages, amplifying others ‘to the greater advantage of
her readers.’ From another passage it appears that she compiled a poem
(carmen) from the sayings (dictis) of the saints[864], and as an
illustration of her moral attitude we are told that when she was reading
the Scriptures aloud and ‘as it happened,’ passages occurred which shocked
her by their allusions, she hurried them over quickly or pretended not to
understand them. ‘But when it became needful to speak of such things for
some reason of salvation, it was as though she did not mind, and she
overcame her hesitation[865].’ Her great modesty in regard to her own
requirements is insisted on by her biographer. Many bore witness to the
fact that they were more impressed by her words than by those of
celebrated preachers, for she frequently moved her audience to tears[866].
In addition the writer feels called upon to mention a few incidents that
happened to Gertrud, giving them a miraculous rendering, no doubt from a
wish to enhance her worth.
The information about Gertrud is supplied by the first part of her book
called ‘The Legacy of Divine Piety[867],’ which as it does not mention
Gertrud’s death, seems to have been written while she was alive, perhaps
as a preface to a copy of her revelations. It was only after many years of
study and literary activity that she determined to write down her personal
experiences, and these accounts, written between 1289 and 1290, form the
second part of the book as it stands at present and constitute its chief
and abiding interest.
The admiration bestowed on the ‘Legacy of Divine Piety’ was almost greater
than that given to the writings of the nun Mechthild. The perusal of a
chapter will show Gertrud’s attitude of mind. Starting from the occasion
when she first became conscious of a living communion with God, she
describes how step by step she realised an approximation to things divine,
such as reverence, love, and the desire of knowledge alone can secure. She
speaks of experiencing in herself a deeper religious consciousness which
reacted in making her feel herself unworthy of the special attention of
her Creator, and she continues in this strain[868]:
‘If I look back on what the tone of my life was before and afterwards, in
truth I declare that this is grace I am grateful for and yet unworthy of
receiving. For thou, O Lord, didst grant unto me of the clear light of thy
knowledge to which the sweetness of thy love prompted me more than any
deserved correction of my faults could have done. I do not recall having
felt such happiness save on the days when thou didst bid me to the
delights of thy royal table. Whether thy wise forethought had so ordained,
or my continued shortcomings were the reason of it, I cannot decide.
‘Thus didst thou deal with and rouse my soul on a day between Resurrection
and Ascension when I had entered the courtyard at an early hour before
Prime, and sitting down by the fishpond was enjoying the beauties of the
surroundings which charmed me by the clearness of the flowing water, the
green of the trees that stood around, and the free flight of the birds,
especially the doves, but above all by the reposeful quiet of the retired
situation. My mind turned on what in such surroundings would make my joy
perfect, and I wished for a friend, a loving, affectionate and suitable
companion, who would sweeten my solitude. Then thou, O God, author of joy
unspeakable, who as I hope didst favour the beginning of my meditation and
didst complete it, thou didst inspire me with the thought that if,
conscious of thy grace, I flow back to be joined to thee like the water;
if, growing in the knowledge of virtue like unto these trees, I flower in
the greenness of good deeds; if, looking down on things earthly in free
flight like these doves, I approach heaven, and, with my bodily senses
removed from external turmoil, apprehend thee with my whole mind, then in
joyfulness my heart will make for thee a habitation.
‘My thoughts during the day dwelt on these matters, and at night, as I
knelt in prayer in the dormitory, suddenly this passage from the Gospel
occurred to me (John xiv. 23), “If a man love me, he will keep my words;
and my Father will love him, and we will come unto him, and make our abode
with him.” And my impure heart felt thee present therein. O would that an
ocean of blood passed over my head that my miserable inadequacy were
washed out now that thou hast made thy abode with me in dignity
inscrutable! Or that my heart snatched from my body were given to me to
cleanse with glowing coal, so that, freed of its dross, it might offer
thee if not indeed a worthy abode, yet one not altogether unworthy. Thus,
O God, didst thou show thyself from that hour onwards, sometimes kindly,
sometimes stern, in accordance with my improved or neglectful way of life;
though I must admit that the utmost improvement to which I sometimes
momentarily attained, had it lasted all my life, never had made me worthy
of the least part of the sustenance which I received in spite of many sins
and, alas! of great wickedness. For thy extreme tenderness shows me thee
more grieved than angered by my shortcomings, a proof to me that the
amount of thy forbearance is greater when thou dost bear with me in my
failings, than during thy mortal life, when thou didst bear with the
betrayer Judas.
‘When I strayed in mind, tempted away by some deceitful attraction, and
after hours, or alas! after days, or woe is me! after weeks, returned to
my heart, always did I find thee there, so that I cannot say that thou
hast withdrawn thyself from me from that hour, nine years ago, till eleven
days before the feast of John the Baptist, save on one occasion, when it
happened through some worldly dispute, I believe, and lasted from Thursday
(the fifth feria) to Tuesday (the second feria). Then on the vigil of St
John the Baptist, after the mass _Nec timeas etc._, thy sweetness and
great charity came back to me, finding me so forlorn in mind that I was
not even conscious of having lost a treasure, nor thought of grieving for
it, nor was desirous of having it returned, so that I cannot account for
the madness that possessed my mind, unless indeed it so happened because
thou didst wish me to experience in myself these words of St Bernard: “We
fly and thou pursuest us; we turn our back on thee, thou comest before us;
thou dost ask and art refused; but no madness, no contempt of ours makes
thee turn away who never art weary, and thou dost draw us on to the joy of
which it is said (1 Cor. ii. 9), ‘Eye hath not seen, nor ear heard it,
neither has it entered into the heart of man.’”’
These passages must suffice. Anyone desirous of following Gertrud through
the further experiences which guided her to the knowledge of God and gave
her an insight into the working of spiritual love must turn to her
writings, which bear the reader onwards in continuous flow, and with much
self-analysis and self-realisation give evidence of the conscious joy
which develops into rapture in the presence of the Divine. A passage
contained in the last chapter of the book describes Gertrud’s hopes
regarding her work, and fitly summarises her aspirations[869].
‘Behold, beloved God,’ she writes, ‘I here deposit the talent of thy most
gracious friendship, which, entrusted to me, the lowliest and least worthy
of thy creatures, I have set forth to the increase of thy power; for I
believe and dare affirm that no reason prompted me to write and speak but
obedience to thy will, desire for thy glory, and zeal for the salvation of
souls. I take thee to witness that I wish thee praise and thanks, for thy
abundant grace withdrew itself not from me on account of my unworthiness.
And herein also shalt thou find praise, that readers of this book will
rejoice in the sweetness of thy bounty, and, drawn to thee, learn greater
things through it; for as students progress from first learning the
alphabet to acquaintance with logic (logica), by means of the imagery here
described they will be led to taste of that hidden divine sustenance
(manna) which cannot be expressed even by allegory.... Meanwhile in
accordance with thy faithful promise and my humble request, grant to all
who read this book in lowliness that they rejoice in thy love, bear with
my inadequacy, and feel true contrition themselves, in order that from the
golden censers of their loving hearts a sweet odour may be wafted upwards
to thee, making full amends for my carelessness and shortcomings.’
Before the personal interest of this portion of the book the other parts
written by fellow-nuns fade into insignificance. They contain accounts of
Gertrud’s thoughts on various occasions, and are chiefly interesting for
the comments they contain on various accepted saints; we here see what
thoughts were suggested to the Helfta nuns by the personalities of St
Benedict, St Bernard, St Augustine, St Dominic, St Francis, St Elisabeth,
and others. Thus the feast of St John the Apostle gives rise to an account
of him[870] sitting in heaven, where he keeps the holy record, and writes
in different colours, sometimes in red, sometimes in black, sometimes in
letters of gold--a simile which recalls the art of writing. The ‘Legacy of
Divine Piety’ of Gertrud has repeatedly been printed in the original
Latin, sometimes in conjunction with the ‘Book of Special Grace’ of the
nun Mechthild, and, like the revelations of Mechthild, the writings of
Gertrud have been translated into German and English. Both in their
original form and in selections the writings of these nuns are used as
books of devotion among Catholics to this day, but neither Gertrud nor
Mechthild have till now been given a place in the _Acta Sanctorum_.
Gertrud outlived her distinguished contemporaries at Helfta; she died in
1311[871], her thoughts having been engrossed by the anticipation of death
for some time before. During these last years of her life she composed a
number of prayers called ‘Spiritual Exercises’[872] for the use of her
fellow-nuns, the religious fervour of which has perhaps rarely been
surpassed.
They are written in rhyme but in varying rhythm; perhaps they are best
designated as rhymed prose. Only the original Latin can give an idea of
their eloquence, but, in the interest of the general reader I have added
one in English prose. It is one of the series designated as ‘a
supplication for sinfulness and a preparation for death.’ There is one
prayer for every canonical hour; the following[873] is intended for
repetition after the hour of prime, ‘when the Soul holds converse with
Love and Truth; and when the thought of eternal judgment, at which Truth
will preside, causes the Soul to beseech Love to help her to secure Jesus
as her advocate.’
‘And thus shalt thou begin to effect a reconciliation with God.
‘O shining Truth, O just Equity of God, how shall I appear before thy
face, bearing my imperfections, conscious of the burden of my wasted
life, and of the weight of my great negligence? Woe, woe is unto me; I did
not make the payment of a Christian’s faith and of a spiritual life there
where the treasures of love are stored, that thou mightest receive it back
with manifold increase of interest. The talent of life entrusted to me,
not only have I left it unused; but I have forfeited it, debased it, lost
it. Where shall I go, whither shall I turn, how can I escape from thy
presence?
‘O Truth, in thee undivided abide justice and equity. In accordance with
number, weight and measure dost thou give judgment. Whatever thou dost
handle is weighed in truly even scales. Woe is unto me, a thousand times
woe, if I be given over to thee with none to intercede in my behalf! O
Love, do thou speak for me, answer for me, secure for me remission. Take
up my cause, that through thy grace I may find eternal life.
‘I know what I must do. The chalice of salvation I will take; the chalice,
Jesus, I will place on the unweighted scale of Truth. Thus, thus can I
supply all that is wanting; thus can I outweigh the balance of my sins. By
that chalice can I counterbalance all my defects. By that chalice I can
more than counterpoise my sins.
‘Hail, O Love, thy royal bondservant Jesus, moved in His inmost being,
whom thou didst drag at this hour before the tribunal, where the sins of
the whole world were laid on Him who was without spot or blemish, save
that out of pity of me He charged Himself with my sins,--Him the most
innocent, Him the most beloved, condemned for love through my love of Him
and suffering death for me, Him I would receive from thee to-day, O Love
Divine, that He may be my advocate. Grant me this security that in this
cause I have Him as my defender.
‘O beloved Truth! I could not come before thee without my Jesus, but with
Jesus to come before thee is joyful and pleasant. Ah Truth, now sit thee
on the seat of judgment, enter on the course of justice and bring against
me what thou wilt, I fear no evil, for I know, I know thy countenance
cannot confound me, now that He is on my side who is my great hope and my
whole confidence. Verily, I long for thy judgment now Jesus is with me, He
the most beloved, the most faithful, He who has taken on Himself my misery
that He may move thee to compassion.
‘Ah, sweetest Jesus, thou loving pledge of my deliverance, come with me to
the judgment court. There let us stand together side by side. Be thou my
counsel and my advocate. Declare what thou hast done for me, how well
thou hast thought upon me, how lovingly thou hast added to me that I might
be sanctified through thee. Thou hast lived for me that I may not perish.
Thou hast borne the burden of my sins. Thou hast died for me that I might
not die an eternal death. All that thou hadst thou gavest for me, that
through the wealth of thy merit I might be made rich.
‘Verily in the hour of death judge me on the basis of that innocence, of
that purity which came to me through thee when thou didst make atonement
for my sins with thine own self, judged and condemned for my sake, so that
I, who am poor and destitute in myself, through thee may be wealthy beyond
measure.’