Research Portfolio Essay #1 Saturday, Sep 30 2006

 Michael D. Bailey, The Feminization of Magic and the Emerging Idea of the Female Witch in the Late Middle Ages. Essays in Medieval Studies – Volume 19, 2002, pp. 120-134.

 

            At the dawn of the Middle Ages, it was widely accepted that there existed magic users in the world, and they were powerful, educated males. By the late Middle Ages, most people acknowledged the concept of the witch: a usually female, always powerful, magic user. Michael D. Bailey’s article “The Feminization of Magic and the Emerging Idea of the Female Witch in the Late Middle Ages” analyzes the medieval viewpoint on magic users and how it may have changed in order for people to believe women could assume this once authoritative position. I will examine two assertions in Bailey’s article: first, that a stereotype shift of magic users had to occur for women to be widely accused of magic usage, and second, women’s magic had to be synonymous with evil in order to be considered feminine.

            Witchlike behavior was always believed to exist throughout the Middle Ages, but was not appropriated to women until the 14^th century. What happened before then to feminize the idea of the typical magic user? Bailey appropriates this cultural shift to the Renaissance of the 12^th century, wherein Western European rediscovered many classical, Hebrew and Arabic books dealing with the occult arts. Bailey notes that, “the systems of magic described in these sources were highly learned, undoubtedly authoritative, and explicitly demonic in nature” (125). After this point, even educated members of society such as the clergy developed respect for the reality and power of magic in the world. The theological sphere considered magic to be “highly complex, ritualized, and formalistic” (125). In 1326, even Pope John XXII felt it necessary to write of and condemn sorcerers who used magical items that they had created in order to summon demons. Therefore, it was unlikely that the dominant “cleric misogyny” would allow religious officials to believe that women were capable of such a learned, skillful act as magic (121). The shift came about when the clergy realized that all magic was done for demonic purposes. From a theological point of view, this meant “the central aspect of witchcraft… was the complete and absolutely explicit submission of the witch… to the devil” (127). When people began to believe that magical prowess rested more on how fully a person could submit herself rather than how learned she was, witchcraft became almost exclusively a feminine idea.

            Bailey asserts that not only did magic have to involve submission to be considered feminine, but it also had to be considered evil. The susceptibility to evil in women was something that everyone could agree with. Women were considered to have more “spiritual weakness and natural proclivity for evil” (120). This idea was further cemented by Heinrich Kramer in 1486 when he wrote: “All witchcraft comes from carnal lust, which in women is insatiable” (120). Of course, women “certainly had the potential for extreme good, even sanctity,” but the idea of “female duplicity” stated that if a woman did not achieve this extreme, she plunged into extreme evil (123). Bailey reminds us of the proverb of
Cicero, which was widely referred to in the Middle Ages: “A woman either loves or hates, there is no third” (123). Therefore, the weakness of women who did not reach this sanctity allowed them to more easily become possessed by and submit to demons (124). The late Middle Age idea of magic users stated that “witches… were typically not highly trained or educated people”, but it did acknowledge that witchcraft was dependent on “submission to evil rather than training or preparation, and on susceptibility to temptation rather than intellectual striving” (126, 127). According to the average thinker in the Middle Ages, who would be better suited for complete abandonment to evil than a woman? As the Middle Ages progressed into their later years, the Church had “linked the operations of magic to female weakness” and “by the early fifteenth century, women accounted for a clear majority of those tried for sorcery” (128). Because “the power of witches rested on their submission to the devil and their susceptibility to his seductions,” and the misogynistic beliefs of the clergy helped them to accept that “women were naturally weaker than men,” women were assumed to be the most powerful and submissive servants of Satan (128).

            Bailey’s words fittingly conclude: “Had clerical authorities clung to either of their earlier conceptions of magic- that is, that the sort of common sorcery often… performed by women was merely empty superstition… or that the real, powerful demonic magic performed by necromancers was… unsuited for women- the witch-hunts would surely not have happened” (128). His assertions that a shift in the idea of magic user occurred to hold women responsible for the most powerful magic and that magic had to be believed evil in order for women to be its most successful practitioners held true to the beliefs of the medieval clergy. Therefore, I agree with Bailey that because of the sexism of the clergy, the idea of a feminine witch had to be an evil and uneducated one.

 

Lauren Orsini, University of Mary Washington

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Reflective Essay #1 Thursday, Sep 28 2006

            I am managing to keep up with the reading, but just barely. For example, I read the Lais of Marie de France a week early, and then struggled to read Chretien de Troyes’ Arthurian Romances that same week, since that’s what we did end up discussing that week. Now that we’re reading Chaucer’s Canterbury Tales, I am beginning to plan my reading more carefully, since I usually have to go over it with a modern translation afterward. In order to become a better student, my goal for the rest of the semester is to be more organized and trust the syllabus when it comes to reading. Because when I manage to do the right reading for the right day, class is much more interesting and I love being able to participate in the discussions.

            The most interesting thing I have learned about medieval literature so far this semester is the fact that so much hasn’t changed between then and now when it comes to romantic love. Just like today, there were demands on men to be strong and impressive and to veil their emotions, and women there was pressure to be merely beautiful and virtuous, not intelligent or funny. I see so many comparisons between a medieval knight jousting in a tournament in order to win over his sweetheart, and a young man in the 21^st century speeding in his car as fast as it goes in order to impress a girl with his driving prowess. And just as women did silly things like pluck their hairlines to be beautiful then, so we women are pressured to wear unflattering styles gleaned from celebrities to look attractive today. Men and women did stupid things to impress each other then, just as they do today. It appears that even after a couple centuries, men and women are still clueless about how to deal with one another.

One of the texts that surprised me was Ovid’s The Art of Love. I admit that I read the whole thing like an unbiased historical record. When we discussed Ovid’s use of humor and sarcasm in class, I was completely amazed. I always thought of all the Latin writers as very solemn role models that we can only aspire to now as we attempt to simulate things like democracy and the Socratic Method. It simply didn’t occur to me that antique peoples had a sense of humor.

            I actually am working on my research portfolio. I have decided to do all my essays this half of the semester on a single theme, and perhaps be able to present them as a whole at the Kemp Symposium or another literary event. My general topic is “magic and witchcraft as feminine secrets in the middle ages”. My four essays deal with witchcraft as female submission, witches as “othered” women, magic in the middle ages, and relationships between women in the middle ages. For my book length study, I am reading Gender and Sexuality in the Middle Ages by Martha A. Brozyna, and Chaucer and Gender by Michael Masi. I will only write my essay on one of them, but right now, I am not sure which book will make a better essay. So far, I am leaning towards articles that deal with “othering” of women. I find it interesting that the only way medieval writers could justify witches was by stating that magic is a type of bodily submission. Only then could they believe women were capable of it. For the next half of the semester, I plan to do my research portfolio on upper class medieval life.

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A Reading of Sexuality in the Diction of Marie de France’s Bisclavret Thursday, Sep 14 2006

            Out of all the lais of Marie de France, Bisclavret deals with the most unusual premise: that men can become temporary beasts. It is hard to swallow that Marie, an educated woman, believed that “it often used to happen” (68). However, if we interpret the baron’s condition as a metaphor for his mental state, a close reading of the lay’s diction leads brings forth hidden truths about the sexuality of Bisclavret, his wife, and the king.

            Right at the beginning of her lay, Marie explains that to be a werewolf is “to be possessed by… madness” (68). The use of the word “madness,” illuminates Marie’s belief that Bisclavret and other werewolves actually experience a psychological ailment. She also limits the ability to become a werewolf to men, signaling a tie between male sexuality and this illness. Becoming a werewolf appears to be necessary for Bisclavret because he always “returned home in high spirits” from his three day vacations each week (68). However, it must still be read as an illness because it causes his wife “great worry” and therefore marital unhappiness (68). Bisclavret’s “madness” also clashes with his reputation. He is considered a “good handsome knight who conducted himself nobly” (68). Marie uses the word “nobly” to deliberately conflict with the “ferocious beast” that Bisclavret becomes for three days out of every week (68). Bisclavret’s illness hints at a secret side of his sexuality that his wife cannot handle. Notice that when the baron is in werewolf form, he chooses to hide in “vast forests” (69). However, his wife demands explicitly “do not hide or doubt,” bespeaking her inability to acknowledge the clandestine nature of erotic love, which Bisclavret clearly desires (68). His illness can be seen as a way to release his sexual needs since he finds no outlet in his wife.

It should be noted that the wife’s first impulse about Bisclavret’s disappearances was that he must have taken a mistress. Even when she learns the truth, her first question is “whether he undressed or remained clothed” (69). When she realizes that he does undress, she continues to see Bisclavret’s werewolf form as a sexually threatening idea. She decides that she “no longer wished to lie with him” now that she has seen this primal side of him (69). The only option she sees next is to find a new man to lie with, a man “she had never loved or promised… her affection” (69). The fact that she doesn’t feel anything for the second man makes him unthreatening compared to the passionate and sexualized Bisclavret, who “loved her and she returned his love” (68). Before his wife can leave Bisclavret though, she must symbolically castrate him by stealing his clothes and therefore his manhood. She asks her new man to do this, signifying how, for her, one man must be present to remove another. However, Bisclavret’s passion and masculinity return when he gets his revenge and bites off his former wife’s nose in animal form. Marie describes how he “dashed towards her like a madman,” illuminating both his illness and the degree of hurt he felt when his wife could not accept him as a sexual being (71). The fact that he removes her sense of smell, the sense that is associated with being very strong in wolves, removes her from Bisclavret. Without a nose, there was no way she could ever understand his animal nature. Her female daughters, too, were “born without noses” and could presumably never learn to sniff out the primal desires of men (72).

The king is portrayed as a hyper-masculine figure in this lay, a great hunter and a great leader. He never had to ask for anything, he merely “commanded” or “summoned” a group of trusty followers (70). In fact, the reason that the king takes in werewolf Bisclavret is because the animal “ran up to him and begged for mercy” (70). The animal then “took hold of the stirrup and kissed [the king’s] foot and his leg” (70). In other words, the king immediately took to Bisclavret simply because he was able to act like a man. The werewolf’s ability to mimic his behavior amplifies the king’s love for himself and all men. His greatest compliment for Bisclavret is that he “has the intelligence of a human” (70). The wolf was permitted to sleep with men, “amongst the knights, just by the king” (70). The image here is one of love among men, which the king’s hyper-masculine image promotes. Werewolf Bisclavret is exactly the right kind of companion for the king because, while he is intelligent, he is also “gentle” (70). He becomes a loyal follower to the king when he “accompanied him constantly and showed clearly that he loved him” (70). However, there is a sexual side to the king’s relationship with Bisclavret when king places Bisclavret’s clothes before him to see if he turns into a man. The king’s advisor explains that “it is most humiliating for him” to have to change back into a man in front of the king (72). Therefore, they decide to leave the werewolf and the clothes in the king’s own bedchamber. In the intimacy of the king’s bedroom, Bisclavret is able to become human again and the king “ran forward to embrace him, and kissed him many times” (72). This is a reversal of when the werewolf kissed the king’s foot to beg for mercy, and signifies love being reciprocated. This also underlines the king’s masculinity and ideas of love among men; the only thing more ideal for the king than a wolf who acts like a human follower is an actual human follower.

Marie de France’s lay Bisclavret evolved into a complex tale of sexuality and secrecy when the main character’s ability to become a werewolf was read as a mental condition. Through such a lens, Marie’s diction bespeaks three main characters and their sexual conceptions and hang-ups. Note that after the sexually repressed wife and the dominant, masculine king, we find Bisclavret at the end of the story happy, but as a man with no sexual partner. Since he has the ability to remain alternating as man and beast for the rest of his life, he is in touch with both his civilized and primal sides, and therefore fulfilled.

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