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OF SIX MEDIÆVAL WOMEN
WITH
A NOTE ON MEDIÆVAL GARDENS
MACMILLAN AND CO., LIMITED
LONDON · BOMBAY · CALCUTTA
MELBOURNE
THE MACMILLAN COMPANY
NEW YORK · BOSTON · CHICAGO
DALLAS · SAN FRANCISCO
THE MACMILLAN CO. OF CANADA, LTD.
TORONTO
[Illustration: _Bib. de l'Arsenal, Paris._
POET DECLAIMING TO ACCOMPANIMENT OF VIOL.
_Frontispiece._]
OF SIX MEDIÆVAL WOMEN
TO WHICH IS ADDED
A NOTE ON
MEDIÆVAL GARDENS
BY
ALICE KEMP-WELCH
WITH INTRODUCTION AND ILLUSTRATIONS
MACMILLAN AND CO., LIMITED
ST. MARTIN'S STREET, LONDON
1913
COPYRIGHT
AUTHOR'S NOTE
The Author's acknowledgments are due to the Editor of _The Nineteenth
Century and After_ for his kind permission to reprint such of the
following studies as have already appeared in that Review, and also to
"George Fleming" (Miss Constance Fletcher) for her rendering, on page
146, of four verses of Christine de Pisan's poem on Joan of Arc.
CONTENTS
PAGE
INTRODUCTION xi
A TENTH-CENTURY DRAMATIST, ROSWITHA THE NUN 1
A TWELFTH-CENTURY ROMANCE-WRITER, MARIE DE FRANCE 29
A THIRTEENTH-CENTURY MYSTIC AND BEGUINE, MECHTHILD OF MAGDEBURG 57
A FOURTEENTH-CENTURY ART-PATRON AND PHILANTHROPIST, MAHAUT,
COUNTESS OF ARTOIS 83
A FIFTEENTH-CENTURY FEMINISTE, CHRISTINE DE PISAN 116
AGNES SOREL 147
A NOTE ON MEDIÆVAL GARDENS 173
ILLUSTRATIONS
FACE PAGE
Poet declaiming to accompaniment of Viol _Frontispiece_
Roswitha presenting her Poem to the Emperor Otho I.,
the Abbess of Gandersheim standing at her side.
A. Dürer, 1501 1
Cover of St. Emmeran Gospels. 10th century 7
Marriage of Otho II. and Theophano. Byzantine, 10th century 7
Lady playing Harp. Add. MS. 38117, Brit. Mus. 32
Add. MS. 10293, Brit. Mus. 34
Boat with Knights and Lady. Add. MS. 10294, Brit. Mus. 49
Glaukos and Polyeidos in Tomb. Greek Vase, Brit. Mus. 52
Statue of Mahaut in Abbey of La Thieuloye, near Arras, now
destroyed. From a Drawing, now in Brussels, made in 1602 99
Marriage of Charles le Bel and Marie of Luxemburg. Grandes
Chrons. de France. Bib. Nat. 100
Thirteenth-Century Treatise on Surgery, in French.
Sloane MS. 1977 103
Banquet, with Minstrels playing, and Room hung with
Embroidery. MS. Romance of Alexander, 14th century.
Bodleian, Oxford 104
Harl. MS. 4425, Brit. Mus. 105
Christine de Pisan 119
Lady in Horse-Litter, returning from Tournament.
Harl. MS. 4431, Brit. Mus. 132
La Cité des Dames 138
Setting out for Poissy. Harl. MS. 4431, Brit. Mus. 140
Tomb of Agnes Sorel 158
Book of Hours of Etienne Chevalier 162
Book of Hours of Etienne Chevalier 163
Book of Hours, French, 14th century. Brit. Mus. 176
Harl. MS. 4425, Brit. Mus. 177
Flemish Master, 15th century. Stephenson Clarke Collection 181
MS. Romance of Alexander, 14th century 183
Rhenish Master, C. 1420, Frankfort Hist. Mus. 185
Harl. MS. 4425, Brit. Mus. 186
INTRODUCTION
The recent researches of scholars and students have brought the study
of mediæval times within the range of almost any one who cares to live
in imagination in the past. No part of this study has been more
advanced and made more informing to us than that which regards the
individual. This is specially true of womankind, of whom we have
learnt somewhat, in some instances from their own writings, and in
others from allusions to their work in those of contemporary and later
writers, and also, incidentally, from the vast storehouse of didactic
literature, which is so suggestive in itself, reflecting through
successive centuries, as it seems to do, the standard of conduct of
the large majority. But on this subject--a very large one, and only
partially explored--light can only be thrown gradually. For this there
are various reasons. One is that, until comparatively recent times,
the small details of everyday life which go so largely to make up a
woman's life, have generally been taken for granted by writers. Then
the few mediæval historiographers and chroniclers were principally
engaged in recounting the deeds of kings and feats of arms. Then
again, although probably many MSS. of the time still lie undiscovered
in libraries, those that are known to us are scattered far and wide.
Furthermore, self-advertisement was not a mediæval fashion. It is
perhaps difficult for us nowadays to understand a spirit of
self-effacement. Self-esteem, which may develop for either good or
ill, has perhaps always existed in the human breast, but certainly
since the time of the Renaissance, when it seemed to have its own
special revival, it has grown apace, and is to-day like unto the
Mustard Tree of Holy Writ. But it is not proposed to contrast this our
modern attitude with the impersonal one, if so it may be called, of
the Middle Ages, because, whilst there were many humble, zealous
workers then, just as there are now, it is possible there were other
and perhaps more potent factors to account for this apparently humble
attitude. In mediæval days, the subject of a narrative or didactic
work was considered so important, that an author would scarcely
venture on any independent treatment of a theme for fear of incurring
censure for a contempt of authority, or, if he did so venture, he
would probably deem it wiser to do so anonymously, or by ascription
to some departed celebrity, who was obviously not in a position to
gainsay him. The writer was of much less interest than his ideas and
sentiments. Then again there was the intense localisation of life.
Localities were very independent of one another. Each was complete in
itself, and within it there was no need for self-advertisement. It was
the same in the wider life of associated religious communities, such
as Benedictines, Cluniacs, and Cistercians, who had so much to do with
the building of abbeys and cathedrals. Within a fraternity, the
specially gifted craftsman was known, and wherever work was going on
within the Order, was made use of as needs be, not as Brother This, or
Brother That, but simply as scribe, or as artificer in Madonnas or
gargoyles, or whatever else was wanted. The glorification of the
community as a whole, and not the advertisement of the individual, was
the desired goal. This self-effacement was not so much humility,
though of course that too existed, as the special form which communal
feeling took at that time. Now if this suppression of the individual
was true of men, how much more true must it have been of women, who
seldom ventured beyond town, or castle, or convent walls. In truth,
women hardly appear on the scene, and English women least of all. It
is only women who were prominent through their high official
positions, either political or religious, such as Blanche of Castile,
or St. Catherine of Siena, or the Abbess Hildegarde, or women like the
Blessed Angela of Foligno,[1] or Julian, anchoress of Norwich,[2] or
some other of the devout women of mediæval Italy, who interpreted the
mysteries of divine love to mediæval society, having in fact, as it
were, religious salons, from whom the veil has been withdrawn, and
even amongst such as these it has sometimes been only very slightly
lifted. With these saintly and political women must be mentioned the
women doctors of Salerno--Trothula, Abella, Mercurialis, and
others--who played so important a part both as professors and
practitioners when this school of medicine was at its zenith in the
eleventh and twelfth centuries, and who left behind them, as evidence
of their learning, treatises which are of interest to-day as showing
mediæval methods in medicine.
[1] _The Book of the Divine Consolation of the Blessed Angela
of Foligno._ The New Mediæval Library.
[2] _Revelations of Divine Love recorded by Julian, Anchoress
of Norwich, 1373._
Still, even so, the records are scanty. In order, therefore, to form
some idea and estimate of women generally in the Middle Ages, we must
perforce fall back on reasoning from the known to the unknown, and,
by studying the few who are recorded in written history, judge of that
great majority who, though nameless, have yet so largely helped to
make up the world's unwritten history. Just as many a flower blooms
and dies unseen, so many a woman must have lived her life, serviceable
to her special environment, but wholly unrecorded. Just as, in the
course of ages, the seeds of some humble plant have been carried by
wind or water from some lonely region to one less remote, and made to
serve a purpose by adding to the sum-total of beauty and usefulness,
so the thoughts and deeds of many an unremembered woman have doubtless
passed into the great ocean of thought, encircling us to-day, and
influencing us as a living force.
Thus we have the women who figure in history, and whom we must take as
types of the influential woman of the time, and the women whom history
has not so honoured. Of the former, even when only portrayed in
outline, we can learn something, but how are we to learn anything of
the latter, whether living in the seclusion of religious houses or in
the world? Of those living in religious houses, we know from records
that, besides attending to their own spiritual and mental education
and tending the sick, they conducted the cloister schools and taught
in them needlework, the art of confectionery, surgery, writing, and
drawing. They also wove, and embroidered, and added their mite to the
sum-total of beauty by transcribing and illuminating MSS. of the
Gospels and of the lives of the Saints. But sometimes such a limited
sphere of activity was enlarged, and it is to an anonymous Anglo-Saxon
nun of the eighth century, to whom the experiences were related, that
we owe one of the earliest and most interesting accounts extant in
Northern Europe of a journey to Palestine.
To learn something of those living in the world, who were the
inspirers, the helpmates, and the companions of men in everyday life,
we must turn to the poems and romances. These form the key to the
domestic life of the time. Though ordinary life may be somewhat
idealised in them, still it is ordinary life on which they are based.
Moreover, many of the MSS. in which they are written down contain
miniatures--a legacy of exceeding worth to the student. But if we seek
some knowledge of mediæval life from miniatures, it is not necessary
to confine our researches to MSS. of romances. Transcripts of the
classics, of the moralised Bible, and of other religious works also
supply many pictures of everyday life, adapted quite regardless of
incongruity, for one of the characteristics of the Middle Ages was a
profound incapacity to picture to itself anything _but_ itself, or to
reconstitute in any way, as we do to-day, times and scenes not its
own. This was owing partly to its vitality and its youthfulness, which
grasped at anything and everything without discernment, and partly to
its lack of reliable material. The whole aspect of life, too, was
changed and enlarged, and for the moment over-charged, for the
flood-gates of the East, hitherto only partially opened, had been rent
asunder by the traveller and the crusader.
Before we attempt to arrive at some idea of the manner of life of the
women of the Middle Ages, it will be well, if possible, to modify what
seems to be a general and perhaps a distorted impression of these
women of bygone days, as regards their want of loyalty in their
domestic relations, and all the deceit and cunning such a want led to.
Without attempting to justify what is fundamentally wrong, let us go
if we can into the region of fact, and in that region there is quite
enough romance without introducing it from outside.
In the first place, so much more, as a rule, is heard of vice than of
virtue. "La voix de la beauté parle bas: elle ne s'insinue que dans
les âmes les plus éveillées." Then the standard of life in those days
was very different from what it is to-day. Manners and customs which
were accepted facts of everyday life then, would strike us as
strangely rude and repellent now. Take, for instance, the attitude
towards his queen of a king we have all been taught to revere--Arthur,
the semi-saint, and the so-called pattern of courtesy. When Guinevere
deserts him, and some of his knights are slain, his remark--not
whispered into the ear of a confidant, but uttered aloud in the
presence of all around him--is, "I am sorrier for my good knights'
loss than for the loss of my fair Queen, for queens I might have
enow." Such a sentiment, expressed in public, does not seem quite up
to our modern standard of courteous, or even civilised, conduct, and
yet here we have the sentiments of the Prince of Chivalry, as
conceived by the poets of the thirteenth century. So it is obvious
that before passing judgment upon the standard of life of the mediæval
woman, we must endeavour to arrive at the truth by thinking and living
in imagination on the same plane, as near as may be, as she did.
Then again, it is largely owing to certain stories in the Middle Ages
that the women of those times have been defamed. If we consider the
sources and the transcribers of these stories, we shall perhaps find a
reason for their distorted outlines, filled in with so much
imperfectly understood detail. Many of these tales originated in the
East, and particularly in India, where the conditions of domestic life
led to and favoured intrigue, and many of them also were mere
allegory, in which the Eastern sought to hide great truths. These the
less meditative Western interpreted literally, mistaking the outward
form for that which it concealed. So in passing to the West, Eastern
ideas and Eastern exaggeration, misconstrued, became caricature.
Moreover, the compilers of these stories were often monks or minstrels
who vied with each other for popular favour, the monk introducing into
his legends material which he hoped would rival the often shameless
outpourings of the minstrel, whilst the minstrel, for his part, tried
to adorn his story with some moral. Naturally neither class of such
purveyors was in the least capable of judging woman with respect, or
indeed of judging woman at all.
On the other hand, however, it must be remembered that there are
stories that tell a very different tale, a tale of self-sacrifice and
devotion in face of grievous trial, as, for instance, that of Eric and
Enide, sung by Chrétien of Troyes, and made familiar to us by
Tennyson's poem of "Geraint and Enid." It is impossible that such a
conception should have been the mere outcome of the poet's
imagination, since a poet, whilst he may transform, focuses and
reflects the ideas of his time. In truth, we find mediæval
literature, if we try to estimate it reasonably, gives a quite
pleasing impression of womankind, whether we turn to some of the royal
ladies who presided over brilliant Courts, where learning was
encouraged and poets made welcome, or to the lady of lesser degree,
who reigned supreme in her castle, at any rate when her lord was away,
as was often the case in time of war or during attendance at Court, or
to the abbesses who governed the religious houses they were set over,
to their material and mental well-being, proving thus their genius for
administration, and, in many instances, their rare intellectual
attainments. A record in a chartulary of the Benedictine nunnery of
Wherwell in Hampshire, now in the British Museum (Egerton MS., 2104),
and accessible to all in translation in the second volume of the
_Victoria History of the County of Hampshire_, may be mentioned in
passing, since it gives such a charming picture of mediæval convent
life. It recounts the life and work of the Abbess Euphemia, who
presided over the house from 1226 to 1257. Amongst her many good
deeds, it is told of her that "with maternal piety and careful
forethought, she built, for the use of both sick and sound, a new and
large infirmary away from the main buildings," and that, besides
caring thus for the bodily wants of her community, "she built there a
place set apart for the refreshment of the soul, namely a chapel of
the Blessed Virgin." The writer adds that "in numberless ways she
provided for the worship of God and the welfare of the sisters," and
that "she so conducted herself with regard to exterior affairs, that
she seemed to have the spirit of a man rather than of a woman." The
account is altogether delightful and informing, and should be read by
any who would go in spirit to a mediæval convent. It is therefore not
surprising that in the late Middle Ages a regard and reverence for
womanhood gradually arose--a regard and reverence for woman not merely
as the weaker vessel, but as the principle of all good and of moral
elevation. This attitude was also in large measure due to the
inevitable fusion of the cult of the Virgin and the cult of woman,
which in the thirteenth century developed into a faith. Then was it
that religion and chivalry, in combination, formed the solvent that
disintegrated the layer of selfishness--the outcome of the worship of
brute force--that had settled over man's nobler instincts, and by
their appeal to his better nature decided the position that woman, not
only as an individual, but also as a class, was thenceforth to take in
the civilised world.
Let us now turn, first to the woman of the Romances and then to the
woman of History. Each completes and is completed by the other. For
the woman of the Middle Ages there were practically only two
alternatives--to enter into the bonds either of Holy Matrimony or of
Holy Church. In both cases the vows were, as a rule, taken early,
especially in the case of marriage, so that the woman of the Middle
Ages knew little of the joys of girlhood, with all its romantic
castle-building and fondly fostered illusions. From playing with
dolls, the child of twelve or even younger often suddenly found
herself transformed into a wife. Although the Church had decreed that
no girl should be wedded before the age of fifteen, this mandate was
often ignored in noble families, where, through death, large fiefs had
been left without a male representative and protector. In such a case
the over-lord considered it necessary to assert his authority, and
compel the marriage of some young girl of perhaps only twelve, so as
to secure for her vassals and retainers a qualified leader, and for
himself the needful and pledged military service. Still these
marriages of convenience were often really happy arrangements, for the
girl-wife had been trained to altruism, and its principles were the
very essence of her daily life. Love, moreover, is a subtle sprite,
and just as surely as he can spread his wings and fly away, so he can
come, as if at unconscious bidding, and make for himself a
dwelling-place.
To get any true insight into the life of the woman of the Middle Ages,
we must study the small everyday affairs, and to this end go, in
imagination, to some castle, and see how the day is passed there by
its lady. Perhaps it is a day in late spring. The watchman on the
tower, heralding the day, has sounded his horn, and soon all the
castle is astir. Leaving her curtained bed, she first offers a short
prayer at the small shrine hanging close by with its flickering light.
Then the bath, the water scented with aromatic roots and covered with
rose-petals, is taken. Mass and the morning broth follow, and the day
is considered fitly begun. The poor, or any sick and sorry folk, are
the first to be considered, or perhaps there is some wounded knight,
who has sought shelter within the protecting walls of the castle, for
whom soothing potions or healing salves have to be compounded. This
latter service was generally the work of the lady of the castle, who
as a rule possessed sufficient surgical knowledge to bind a broken
limb. To beguile the weary hours of convalescence, she sings to the
lute, tells stories, recounts legends, or reads aloud a romance lately
bought from some wayfaring packman. Little is it to be wondered at
that the convalescence is protracted, or that the knight delays his
departure from day to day, sometimes to his own and the lady's
undoing.
Beside such varied ministrations, the woman of the Middle Ages rode to
the chase, went out hawking, snared birds with nets, ferreted rabbits,
spun, wove, and embroidered. Embroidering was a really formidable
occupation, for the great hall, and each room, had its special
hangings, and on fête-days every inch of wall-space was covered. One
set would picture an Arthurian legend, and others again were made
bright with flowers, lilies, roses, and columbines. The lady and her
maidens--often girls of noble birth, whom it was customary to send to
some castle to complete their education--worked at the countless yards
such decoration involved, and chatted the while, it may be, of some
coming marriage or tourney, or perchance one among them would tell a
story, and so time passed merrily enough. Then for the educated woman,
of whom there were many, Latin verse offered a wide field of delight,
and the woman of the Middle Ages read and loved her Virgil just as we
of to-day read and love our Shakespeare. When the daylight had faded,
there was always chess-playing, dancing the carole, and singing, and
by the thirteenth century little pastoral ballets, in which a knight,
and a shepherdess and her lover, took part, began to be produced for
the diversion of castle-folk. For daily entertainment, every castle of
any pretension had its own minstrel or minstrels, whilst in the
smaller castles a wandering singer was warmly welcomed. Sometimes the
lady gave audience to a poet, who read his latest idyll, a minstrel,
to the accompaniment of his viol, singing the interspersed lyrics.
Such a scene may be found depicted in miniatures, and suggests how
such a story as "Aucassin and Nicolette," and many another, partly in
prose, partly in verse, was rendered. One such miniature shows a lady
reclining on a couch, with a lordling seated beside her, the poet,
with his small parchment leaflets, declaiming his story, the minstrel
waiting to take up the theme in song. It is of interest to note that
in this particular miniature the gown of the lady is ornamented with
heraldic devices. By such means we are enabled not only to identify
the person represented--since portraiture, even if there was anything
worthy of the name, was in a very rudimentary condition--and thus
arrive at the approximate date of the picture, but also to verify a
custom, and a stage in social life. It was not until the end of the
twelfth century, when some sort of heraldic system became necessary
owing to the introduction of the closed helmet, that armorial
bearings, hitherto mere personal badges, became attached to noble
families. By the thirteenth century, when the bourgeoisie had become
rich, they were worn by the sumptuously attired wife of the lord to
distinguish her from the equally sumptuously attired wife of the
wealthy burgher.
Such, in mere outline, was the daily life of the mediæval lady.
Descriptions of the lady herself seem to be mere replicas of an
admired and fixed type, for there is in them such a sameness of
delineation, that we can only imagine that poets sang of qualities
that pleased, and did not attempt to individualise. All are good and
gracious, beautiful, and slight of figure, with delicate hands and
tapering fingers, small feet, fine and glossy hair, and grey eyes,
laughing and bright. Only occasionally are these attractions varied
and enhanced by the telling of beauty unaided by paint and hair dye.
It is hardly necessary to speak, save very generally, of woman's
dress, for much has already been written on the subject. For everyday
use, garments of wool or linen, according to the season, and with much
fur in winter, were worn. At weddings or tournaments, or on any other
kind of fête-day, the ladies vied with each other in rich cloth of
gold and silver, in silks woven with threads of gold and patterned
with conventional design, and in all kinds of iridescent silken
stuffs from the East. From Mosul, on the banks of the Tigris, whence
the material we call muslin takes its name, was brought a fine silk
gossamer, something like our _crêpe de Chine_. This was used for the
finely plaited underdress seen at the neck and foot of mediæval
costume. Perhaps the best representation of this, although stone seems
hardly the most favourable medium for the delineation of so delicate a
fabric, can be seen in the long slim figures of the queenly ladies
standing in the niches on either side of the west door of Chartres
Cathedral.
But when we have contemplated this gorgeous and dainty apparel, and
all the other personal luxury that accompanied it, such as enamelled
and jewelled gold circlets for the head, jewelled girdles with each
jewel chosen for its own special virtue, carved ivory combs, tablets
and hand-mirrors, and the like, we are forced to wonder how all this
refinement and beauty could go hand in hand with so much that is
unpleasing. If we turn to consider the manners of the men, we find the
same contrasts--on the one hand the maximum of gallantry and courtesy,
and on the other a corresponding churlishness and brutality.
Metaphorically and actually, the lance and the battle-axe were still
rivalling each other in the warfare of daily life. Although the
battle-axe must eventually yield to the lance, still strange extremes
have flourished side by side all down the ages. Turning to but
comparatively recent times, the coarseness we associate with much of
the reign of Charles II. stands out in glaring contrast with the
delicate, graceful poetry that found expression then. And coming still
nearer to our own days, we think of the unseemly manners in the reigns
of George III. and IV. and the dainty miniatures such as those painted
by Cosway, and wonder how these could exist together. Might we not
just as well wonder why the olive tree has a gnarled, distorted stem,
whilst its delicate, symmetrical leaves, of the tenderest green grey,
glisten in the sunshine like silvery shells fresh from ocean's bed?
Renan, amongst the many thinkers on life's mysteries, tells us that
"Life is the result of a conflict between contrary forces." But to
philosophise is useless, and it is still more useless to question
life's seeming anomalies. We can only bow in silence before "what Time
in mists confounds."
As has been already said, it is only a general idea of the women of
the Middle Ages that can be gleaned from the Romances. For something
to bring us into more real touch with them, and to reveal more of
their personality, we must consider some who have made themselves
known to us through their work, since history, until we come to the
fourteenth century, is almost silent about them. Thus it is that as we
study these women, it almost seems at first as if we were looking at
some faded frescoes in a dimly lighted church. But just as the
half-obliterated figures take form and life as our eyes grow
accustomed to the dimness, and our minds get attuned to the days that
knew their living representatives, so these women of whom we are
speaking may live again for us if only we treat their works as human
documents, and not as archæological curiosities. The following pages
tell of six such women who lived between the tenth century and the
first half of the fifteenth--Roswitha, a nun of Germany; Marie de
France, a lady at the Court of Henry the Second of England; Mechthild
of Magdeburg, mystic and beguine; Mahaut, Countess of Artois, a
great-niece of St. Louis; Christine de Pisan, an Italian by birth,
living at the Court of Charles the Fifth of France; and Agnes Sorel,
the Mistress and inspirer of Charles the Seventh.
In trying to evoke the women of these days of long ago, it is hardly
possible to do more than portray them in outline. Yet even so, if the
outline be true, we may remember, for our consolation, that it has
been said that we shall never, except in outline, see the mysterious
Goddess Truth.
[Illustration: _Photo. Macbeth._
ROSWITHA PRESENTING HER POEM TO THE EMPEROR OTHO I., THE ABBESS OF
GANDERSHEIM STANDING AT HER SIDE.
A. Dürer, 1501.
_To face page 1._]
A TENTH-CENTURY DRAMATIST, ROSWITHA THE NUN
In this age of personal curiosity, politely called psychological
interest, when personalities are analysed with all the thoroughness of
the dissecting theatre, it seems almost courting failure to try to
call to remembrance one whose personality has long since faded away,
and of whom, apparently, no contemporary writer has made mention. Of
Roswitha, the woman, we know but little, and this little is gathered
from her own writings.[3] Presumably the date of her birth was about
A.D. 935, and that of her death about A.D. 973. There is a tradition
that she was connected with the royal house of Germany, at that time
represented by the enlightened Otho the Great. Be this as it may, her
life for us begins when, probably at an early age, she entered the
Convent of Gandersheim. Gandersheim was a Benedictine nunnery in the
Harz Mountains, founded in the ninth century by Liudolf, Duke of
Saxony, and important enough to entitle its Abbess to a Seat in the
Imperial Diet, a right perhaps never exercised except by proxy. The
story of its foundation, as told by Roswitha in the unique MS. of her
works, is of strange beauty. Listen to her own words as she tells the
tale:--
[3] The authenticity of these has been called in question by
some critics, but apparently upon insufficient data.
At that time there was, nigh unto the Monastery,[4] a little
wood, encircled by shady hills, those same hills by the
which we ourselves are surrounded. And there was, moreover,
in the wood a small farm where the swineherds of Liudolf
were wont to dwell, and within the enclosure of which the
men, during the hours of night, composed to rest their weary
bodies until the time when they must needs drive forth to
pasture the pigs committed to their care. Here, on a time,
two days before the Feast of All Saints, these same
herdsmen, in the darkness of the night, saw full many bright
lights glowing in the wood. And they were astonished at the
sight, and marvelled what could be the purport of this
strange vision of blazing light cleaving the darkness of the
night with its wondrous brilliance. And all trembling with
fear, they related unto their Master that which they had
seen, showing unto him the place which had been illumined by
the light. And he, desiring by very sight thereof to put to
proof that which he had heard tell, joined them without the
building, and began the following night, without sleeping,
to keep watch, closing not his eyes though they were weighed
down by the desire of slumber. And after a while he saw the
kindling lights, more in number than afore, once again burn
with a red glow, in the same place forsooth, but at an hour
somewhat earlier. And this glad sign of happy omen he made
known so soon as Phoebus shed his first rays from the sky,
and the joyous news spread everywhere. And this could not be
kept back from the worthy Duke Liudolf, but swifter than
speech did it come to his ears. And he, carefully observing
on the hallowed eve of the approaching festival whether
perchance some further like heavenly vision would clearly
show it to be an omen, with much company kept watch on the
wood all the night long. And straightway when black night
had covered the land with darkness, everywhere throughout
the wooded valley in the which the very noble temple was
destined to be built, many lights were perceived, the which,
with the shining splendour of their exceeding brightness,
cleft asunder the shades of the wood and the darkness of the
night alike. And thereupon, standing up and rendering praise
to God, they all with one accord declared it meet that the
place should be sanctified to the worship of Him who had
filled it with the light. And, moreover, the Duke, mindful
of his duty to Heaven, and with the consent of his dear
consort Oda, forthwith ordered the trees to be felled and
the brushwood cut away, and the valley to be completely
cleared. And this sylvan spot, aforetime the home of fauns
and monsters, he thus cleared and made fitting for the glory
of God. And then, before obtaining the money needful for the
work, he at once set out the lines of a noble church as
traced by the splendour of the red light.[5]
[4] The first foundation, afterwards removed to Gandersheim.
[5] For other instances of churches laid out on lines said to
have been revealed in dreams or visions, see Didron,
_Christian Iconography_, vol. i. (1886) pp. 381, 382, 460,
and Sta. Maria Maggiore, Rome.
In suchwise was the building of our second Monastery to the
glory of God begun. But stone suitable for the structure
could not be found in those parts, and thus the completion
of the sanctuary which had been begun, suffered delay. But
the Abbess Hathumoda, trusting to obtain all things from the
Lord by faith, oft-times, by serving God both night and day
with holy zeal, wore herself out with too abundant labour.
And with many of those placed under her care, she besought
the solace of speedy help from Heaven, lest the work so well
begun should be left unfinished. And of a sudden she became
aware that the divine grace which she sought was present,
ready to have compassion on her longings. For as she lay one
day prostrate nigh unto the altar, fasting and giving
herself up to prayer, she was bidden of a gentle voice to go
forth and follow a bird she would see sitting on the summit
of a certain great rock. And she, embracing the command with
ready mind, went forth, putting her trust in it with all her
heart. And taking with her very skilled masons, she sped
swiftly whither the kindly Spirit led her, until she was
come to the noble sanctuary which had been begun. And there
she saw, seated on the lofty summit of the self-same rock, a
white dove, the which, flying with outspread wings,
straightway went before her, tempering its flight in
unwonted way so that the virgin, walking with her
companions, might be able to follow in a straight course its
aerial track. And when the dove in its flight had come to
the place which we now know was not wanting in great stones,
it descended, and with its beak pierced through the
ground,[6] where, beneath the soil, many stones were
disclosed. And assured by this sight, the very worthy virgin
of Christ bade her companions clear away the heavy mass of
earth, and lay the spot bare. And this done, supernal and
devout piety presiding over the work, a great wealth of
mighty stones was brought to view, whence all the needful
material for the walls of the monastery already begun, and
of the church, could be obtained. Then, striving ever more
and more with all their heart, the builders of the temple
destined to be consecrated to the glory of God, laboured at
the work by night and by day.
[6] The intervention of a bird to aid in discovery was a
favourite tradition derived from antiquity. We may recall,
amongst many variants of the theme, the story of the
celebrated expedition of the Athenians to the Island of
Scyros to find and recover the body of Theseus. Theseus,
being a hero, the agent employed in the quest must likewise
be distinguished, and so the eagle, Zeus's bird, is alone
thought worthy to peck the earth and indicate the
resting-place of the demi-god.
Thus does Roswitha tell how the work of the new Foundation was begun,
the Duke Liudolf and his wife having already journeyed to Rome to ask
of the Pope his blessing, as well as to beg of him, as a token of his
favour, some sacred relics to deposit there. The Pope, giving them his
blessing, thus makes answer to their request:--
There were here, aforetime, two mighty rulers--the most holy
Anastasius who presided over this See, and his co-apostle,
the holy Innocent. These, through their services to the
Church, were the most famous next after St. Peter and St.
Paul. With such care have the illustrious bodies of these
two been heretofore preserved by all the rulers of this
city, that never has any one been permitted to carry away
the least portion of them, and thus their sacred limbs
remain undiminished. But forasmuch as it is meet that I
yield to your pious request, I will grant you, without
recompense, tokens from both these sacred bodies, cut before
your very eyes from off the sacred bodies themselves, if so
be that you will make solemn oath to me to venerate these
relics in your community, of the which you have made
mention, preserving them for all time within your Church,
sacred hymns being there sung by night and by day, and a
light being alway kept burning. And of our apostolic right
we ordain, according to your request, that your community be
of our See, to the end that it may be secured from all
secular rule.
And Liudolf, with glad heart, made promise of this, and returned home
with the coveted relics.
The MS., now at Munich, which tells this fascinating story of love and
faith, was, it is considered, written about A.D. 1000, and was
fortunately preserved in the Benedictine convent of St. Emmeran,
Ratisbon, where the scholar and poet, Conrad Celtes, discovered it at
the end of the fifteenth century. It also includes metrical legends, a
fragment of a panegyric on the Emperor Otho, and six dramas. Of such
worth were these latter counted, that when Celtes published the MS. in
1501, Albert Dürer received a commission for an ornamental title-page,
and for a frontispiece to each of the plays. It is by these dramas
that Roswitha has distinguished herself in the world of letters; for
although the legends contain points of interest, and are treated with
skill, they are naturally not so unique as the dramas, nor do they
reflect her personality in the same way. She herself tells us that the
plays were written in imitation of the manner, but not of the matter,
of Terence, and that her only desire in writing them was "to make the
small talent given her by Heaven to create, under the hammer of
devotion, a faint sound to the praise of God."
But before considering her work, let us glance at her own life, and
the life of contemporary Saxon nunneries.
[Illustration: _Royal Library, Munich._
COVER OF ST. EMMERAN GOSPELS.
Tenth Century.
_To face page 7._]
Nearly one hundred and fifty years before the supposed date of
Roswitha's birth, the hitherto untamed and warlike Saxons had been
finally defeated by the mercenaries of Charlemagne, and, as one of the
signs of submission, forced to embrace Christianity. But having
submitted, they forthwith, and with an aptitude suggestive of the
spirit of the modern Japanese, set themselves to appropriate,
assimilate, and remodel for their own use, the rudiments of the
civilisation with which they found themselves brought into contact. So
speedy and so thorough was the transformation, that scarce a century
passed ere the once powerful Frankish kingdom of Charlemagne bowed
down before the strenuous Saxons, to whom the supreme power was
transferred. Their Chief was elected king of the Germans, and some
fifty years later their king, Otho the Great, after being crowned at
Aix-la-Chapelle, the former centre of Frankish rule, received the
Imperial Crown from the Pope in Rome. This displacement of the
political centre was naturally followed by a complete displacement of
artistic centres. Both these sides of life were fostered by Otho with
a keen personal interest--the building up of his empire and the
encouragement of art going hand in hand. Moreover, owing to his close
ties with Italy and the East, and the element of classic tradition
inevitably induced by such ties, art received an added stimulus and
grace. Oriental monks were to be found in the monasteries. Learned men
and artists were summoned from Italy and Constantinople. The number
and influence of these were increased when Otho's son, afterwards Otho
the Second, married Theophano, a Greek princess, who, bringing many
compatriots in her train, sought to reflect in her German home
something of the learning and splendour of the Byzantine Court. The
ivory, shown in illustration, commemorating this marriage, is an
example of the work of some Byzantine craftsman in her employ, whilst
the jewelled and gold-wrought cover of the Gospels of St. Emmeran (now
at Munich) shows to how high a level the goldsmith's art of the time
had been raised by the influences alluded to.
[Illustration: _Musée de Cluny, Paris._
MARRIAGE OF OTHO II. AND THEOPHANO.
Byzantine, 10th century.
_To face page 7._]
Perhaps the one place which retains in the most varied and
concentrated form the traces of this wave of artistic development then
passing over Germany, is Hildesheim. This is of interest here because
the bishops of Hildesheim were specially appointed to perform the
office of consecration of nuns at Gandersheim. It seems hardly
possible that Roswitha could have seen its gifted bishop Bernward,
himself a painter, and a worker in mosaic and metals, though owing to
the uncertainty of the date of her death--one chronicler making it as
late as 1002--it is just possible that she may have done so.
Bernward's learning and artistic nature attracted the attention of the
princess Theophano, who appointed him tutor to her son, the
boy-emperor Otho the Third. Brought thus into touch with the many
gifts presented on special occasions to the young Emperor by Greek and
Oriental princes, as well as by "Scots" (_i.e._ Irish missionaries and
emigrants settled in Germany), he, by taking with him to Court, from
the School of Art established in his palace at Hildesheim, apt and
talented youths, made use of these rare and beautiful offerings for
the encouragement of the study of divers arts. Students also
accompanied him when he went farther afield for study, for it is said
of him that there was no art which he did not attempt, even if he
failed to attain perfection.[7] Hildesheim thus became famous as a
working-centre of fine art, especially in metals, and remained so down
to the end of the Middle Ages. After a lapse of nearly a thousand
years, the result of the labours of this artistic prelate and his
pupils may still be seen in situ as it were. Besides jewelled
service-books, there are chalices, incense burners, a gold
candelabrum, and a jewelled crucifix, fashioned, if not in part by
him, at least under his supervision. The entrance to the Cathedral is
beautified with delicately wrought bronze doors, modelled, it may be,
from those of Sta. Sabina, Rome, themselves considered to be of
Oriental origin,[8] and in the transept rises a column adorned with
bronze reliefs from the life of Christ, probably designed by the
bishop either after his pilgrimage to Rome in 1001, when he had seen
Trajan's column, or, as a recent writer suggests, from the "Juppiter
and giant columns" of Roman Rhineland.[9]
[7] Thangmarus, "Vita Sti. Bernwardi," Migne, _Patrol. Lat._
140, col. 397. 6.
[8] Michel, _Histoire de l'Art_, 1905, Tome I. i. p. 258.
[9] _Journal of Studies_, vol. i. part i., 1911, article by
E. Strong, p. 24.
We are tempted to recall other princesses whose marriages, and even
more whose personalities, have influenced art and letters, but two
must suffice us--the one, the beautiful and cultivated Anne of
Bohemia, wife of Richard the Second, whose bridal retinue was in
reality a small Court of literary and artistic personages; the other,
the brilliant Valentine Visconti of Milan, sister-in-law of King
Charles the Sixth of France, whose influence in matters of art and
literature alone, at a time when England and France were so intimately
associated, makes her of special interest to us.
But what bearing, it may be asked, had Court life on the life of the
nun Roswitha in the convent of Gandersheim? To answer this question we
must recall briefly the position of the early religious houses, and
especially those of Saxony. Many of the foundations were royal, and,
in return for certain privileges, were obliged to entertain the king
and his retinue whenever he journeyed. Such sojourns naturally brought
a store of political, intellectual, and other information to the
favoured house. Added to this, the abbess of such a house, generally a
high-born and influential woman, was, in her position as a ruler of
lands as well as of communities, brought into direct contact with the
Court and with politics. To her rights of over-lordship were attached
the same privileges and duties as in the case of any feudal baron. She
issued summonses for attendance at her Courts, at which she was
represented by a proctor, and, when war was declared, she had to
provide the prescribed number of knights. In some cases her influence
was supreme, even in imperial affairs, extending also to matters
social and literary. Roswitha tells us how much she herself owed to
the two successive abbesses under whose rule she lived, for
suggestion, information, and encouragement in her literary work.
The convents of Saxony, as many elsewhere in the tenth and eleventh
centuries, were centres of culture in the nature of endowed colleges.
In some of them women resided permanently, and besides their religious
exercises, devoted themselves to learning and the arts, for the Church
of the Middle Ages took thought for the intellect as well as for the
soul. In others, no irrevocable vows were made, and if desire or
necessity arose, the student inmate was free to return to the world.
In others again, though residence was permanent, short leave of
absence from time to time was granted by the abbess, and the nun was
able to sojourn with her friends, or to visit some sister community.
But at Gandersheim the rule was strict, and a nun, her vows once
taken, had to remain within the convent walls. Yet even so, life there
was perhaps far less circumscribed than in many a castle, where the
men gave themselves up to war and the chase, and the women perforce
spun and embroidered and gossiped, since to venture without the walls
was fraught with difficulty and sometimes with danger. Even if there
were some who cared to read, and who would fain go in imagination to
other scenes and times, MSS. were difficult to come by, and costly
withal. Wholly different was it in the religious houses. In these,
women associated with their equals, with whom they could interchange
ideas, and the library was well furnished with MSS. of classical and
Christian writers. One of the first cares of St. Benedict, in the case
of every newly founded house, was the formation of the library. So
held in honour did this tradition become, and so assiduously was it
pursued, that the status of a monastery or a convent, as a centre of
learning, came to be estimated by its wealth in MSS. Besides the mass
of transcribing which such rivalry occasioned, there was illuminating
to be done, musical notation to be studied and prepared for the
services of the Church, chants and choir-singing to be practised, and
the needful time to be devoted to weaving and embroidery--a part of
every woman's education. Weaving had of necessity to be done in every
convent in order to provide the requisite clothing for its inmates,
and the large and often elaborate hangings used for covering the
walls. Embroidery, on the other hand, was no mere occupation, or even
a craft, but in truth a fine art. The few specimens still preserved
give some idea of the quality of the work, whilst old inventories
attest the quantity. Illuminated MSS. of the Gospels and the
Apocalypse were lent from royal treasuries, and their miniatures were
copied, with needle and silk, to adorn vestments and altar hangings.
Then at Gandersheim, as we have already said, the occasional visits of
princely travellers brought interest and diversion from the outside
world. It was in an atmosphere such as this that Roswitha passed her
days.