Research Portfolio Essay #3 Sunday, Oct 8 2006

Beate Popkin, Wives, Mothers, and Witches: The Learned Discourse about Women in Early Modern
Europe. Journal of Women’s History; Autumn 1997; 9, 3; GenderWatch (GW) p. 193

 

            It is hard to disagree with the statement that women were frequently negatively portrayed in context to men in the Middle Ages. Author Beate Popkin takes this assertion one step further by stating that the feminine became the “Other” in the Medieval period. In her essay “Wives, Mothers, and Witches: The Learned Discourse about Women in Early Modern Europe,” Popkin makes two major claims. I will address each of her assertions that first, women are “Othered” to men through marriage and sexuality and second, the female witch is the resulting manifestation of the “Othered” woman.

            Popkin suggests in the beginning of her article that the discourse of women changed as a result of the shift of medieval masculine identities. Previously, there had been “the model of the warrior and the monk, each pursuing his passions in an all male environment” while during the late middle ages men were expected to “focus their attention on the welfare of the nuclear family and live their lives in close proximity to women” (1). At this point, men were now aware of the feminine sphere and their identity became dependent on “a profound need to define woman’s place in relation to man and to assure her subjection to him” (1). Men had to assure themselves that they were living alongside women, not among them. Therefore, the idea commonly shared by late medieval thinkers was that “human beings were created unequal and therefore must assume different positions in society” (2). This was not a new idea; in fact, it dated back to Ancient Greece. Aristotle, for one, “considered women’s inferiority to rest on three characteristics: she was physically weaker than man; she was intellectually less capable; and she was less able to control her emotions through reason” (2). This was also justified in the most influential book of the middle ages- the Bible: “the fact that Eve was made after Adam and from his body… pointed to her baser status” (3). The Bible further asserts that Eve was the first to give into the temptation of the devil, and therefore all women must be protected by men from temptation. Based on these facts, it was very easy for men to see women as “the Other,” the negative opposite of themselves. This made living in families in close proximity to women much more palatable, because a powerful, patriarchal figure was seen as necessary to keep the weaker, lustful female controlled.

            If then, the uncontrolled woman was a naturally sinful creature, then it was easy for medieval thinkers to so completely embrace the idea of a female witch. In an age where “church courts… regulated marriage and punished… infidelity and deviant sexual behaviors,” controlling women’s sexuality was very prominent on men’s minds (3). The idea of the female witch “point[s] out the threat women’s bodies appear to pose to men” (4). At this time “learned urban men in stable marriages faced the moral imperative of subjecting their sexual impulses to their partners- and the proliferation of marriage courts indicate that they did- it should be no surprise that women’s unruliness and sexual disorderliness loomed so large in their minds” (4). Therefore, men instead of facing their inability to cope with this moral task, tended to project their dilemma onto “the Other.” As the problem of morality continued to worry men, the marginalization of the female witch became more and more explicit. Texts like the Malleus Maleficarum and De la Deminimanie des sorciers described the illicit activities of witches in great detail, such as “witches copulating with the Devil… witches’ Sabbaths, with their frantic dancing” (4). The fact that male thinkers chose to portray women in such immoral situations betrayed their sexual anxiety regarding women. Eventually, female witches began to signify “the Other” of men not just sexually, but religiously as well. The idea of the female witch emerged first at “village level,” where she was deemed evil because she targeted others with her magic (6). However, when she reached the ears of the English and Scottish elite, her evil nature shifted: “while at the village level she was regarded as evil because she did harm to others… elite writings attributed her evil nature to the fact that she had rejected God and made a pact with the devil” (6). Now she was not only held accountable of the crime of wrong doing, she was also a practioner of heresy. This was the ultimate form of “the Other” since it was opposite of everything intellectual men held to be good: “not only could fears about one’s ability to master sexual restraint be projected onto the witch, her vilification also served to appease the anxiety intellectuals felt about their allegiance to God” (7). When men considered unwatched women to be capable of becoming witches, they found themselves as the benevolent check to the sinful “Other.”

            As the late middle ages dawned, men began to live among women in family units and “they perceived women’s power as standing in the way of their constructing viable social roles for themselves” (8). By “Othering” women to themselves through the construct of marriage and by manifesting this concept into the idea of the female witch, men were able to see women as a lesser, emotional weaker, more easily tempted version of themselves. By developing their fears about sexual restraint and religious faith into one single concept, men created one obsession that culminated into a false idea about all things feminine. The female witch may not have actually existed, but she was a dangerously real idea in the minds of unconfident, anxious men.

 

Lauren Orsini, University of Mary Washington

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Research Portfolio Essay #2 Sunday, Oct 1 2006

E. Ann Matter, Theories of the Passions and the Ecstasies of Late Medieval Religious Women. Essays in Medieval Studies – Volume 18, 2001, pp. 1-17 – Article.

 

            It is well known to scholars that pious medieval men and women would often experience passions, or visions and fits, as physical and psychological manifestations of their faith. In “Theories of the Passions and the Ecstasies of Late Medieval Religious Women,” E. Ann Matter analyzes this theory as it survived and changed from the early Middle Ages up to the “long Middle Ages,” or the 16^th and 17^th centuries (3). I will examine two assertions that Matter makes in her essay: first, that there was a distinct difference in the passions of men and of women, and second, that female passions were more closely linked with demonic possession and witchcraft.

            In order to understand the medieval perspective of passions, we must observe both the spiritual and medical background to it. Religiously, Christians classified most of the passions as we consider them today (anger, jealously lust, etc.) as part of the Seven Deadly Sins. Today, we see passions as part of internal human nature. And according to Matter, in the Middle Ages people “understood human nature in a different way- if not exactly a result of, then at least intrinsically allied to, external forces” (1). Spiritually, human nature was something external to the human body. This dovetailed marvelously with the medical view of the passions at the time. Much of medieval medical thought was derived from Isidore of Seville’s Entymologie, a translation of classical Greek ideas of medicine.
Seville’s book outlined a four part diagram that grouped one of the four cardinal directions, seasons, elements, and humors of the body together. In other words, external forces such as the seasons and elements determined each person’s inner temperament. The consequence of this widespread belief was an explicit dichotomy separating male and female temperaments, and therefore passions. For example, men fit at the top of the diagram, paired with “South, Summer, Fire, Choler (dry and hot),” and women fit in “North, Winter, Water, Phlegm (moist and cold)” (2). This led to beliefs like that of William of Conches: “The warmest woman is colder than the coldest man” (3). This, of course, refers to internal temperament, not physical temperature. Because of the “humoral theory of human nature, with the strong distinction between male and female essences… [There were] “male” and “female” forms of spirituality and mysticism” (4). Therefore, the passions of men and women were experienced differently based on their opposite internal states.

            Next, Matter focuses exclusively on female passions. Because of the widespread belief in the humoral theory of human nature, even female mystics like Hildegard of Bingen justified their own passions and spirituality in this way. Hildegard took the theory one step further and described the passions of women in all four of the corners of the theory. According to her, “the sanguine woman is soft, tender, fertile… the phlegmatic woman is hardworking, practical, lusty; choleric women are soft, discreet, loyal; and the melancholic woman is the only kind of woman better off without a man… in short, intellectual” (3). Hildegard was the first person to describe the bodily humors in terms of psychosexual human behavior. This “constitute[s] a model capable of accounting for the overlapping of physical and mental states” that were considered to occur during spiritual passions (3). It should be noted that Hildegard also incorporated herself into the theory as a melancholic woman. A later scholar, William of Auvergne, wrote that “women constitutionally given to melancholia… would have a physical disposition to mystical rapture- and that even the reverse is possible- that is, that a woman given to vehement prayer and devotions can actually develop melancholia” (5). This profile fit a number of medieval mystic and visionary women such as Maria of Oignies, Christine the Marvelous, and Brigit of Sweden. However, after a burst of female spiritual activity in the 14^th century, “one can see a ‘progressive caution’ in the hagiographical writing about holy women” (5). This reflects “a dangerous collapse in the representation of the familiar polarities of female spirituality” as outlined in the humoral theory of passion (5). This led to the rising belief that spiritual women were actually overcome by demonic possession, as was the case with the trials of Joan of Arc. The climax came in the publication of the 15^th century handbook “Malleus maleficarum,” which associates Satanic powers with women, who were thought to be weaker and more prone to submission to the devil. The text turns the psychosexual structure of the humoral system against women, stating that “All witchcraft comes from carnal lust, which is in women insatiable” (6). Here, according to Matter, “is the terminus of a previously auspicious… current in the assessment of female spirituality” (6). From then on, women’s passions were seen as Satanic possessions of the devil, and resulted in the later prominently female witchcraft trials of the upcoming centuries.

            E. Ann Matter’s two assertions that first, male and female passions were understood to be different and second, that female passions were linked with demonic possession and witchcraft, both climaxed and manifested themselves in the resulting, predominantly female, witchcraft trials. The mystery in the visions and fits of spiritual women became too unusual for the medieval clergy to handle. Female saints became labeled as female demons, and the collapse of female sanctity was complete. Because the passions were usually a combination of physical and psychological manifestations in people, they were ultimately tied to the unknown. In conclusion, the fact that medieval thinkers feared the unknown was the downfall of religious women.

 

Lauren Orsini, University of Mary Washington

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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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