Proving Woman (49 page)

¹⁵¹
William of Auvergne,
De sacramentis
(=
De sacramento poenitentiae
) c. 3, in
Opera
, 1:461; cf. 486; also William’s earlier
Tractatus novus de poenitentiae
of ca. 1223, where he outlines a similar plan (c. 1, in
Opera
, 1:571). Also see Nicole Bériou, “La confession dans les écrits théologiques et pastoraux du XIIIe sie`cle: médication de
l’ â me ou démarche judiciare,” in
Aveu
, pp. 275–76. Much of what follows in this section is an expansion upon Elliott, “Women and Confession,” pp. 48–51.

¹⁵²
See, for example, the testimony of Petra de Alzate and Katella de Gioziis, who sought out the inquisitors and confessed spontaneously,
without having been cited, in Marina Benedetti, ed.,
Milano 1300: I processi inquisitoriali contro le devote e i devoti di santa Guglielma
(Milan: Libri Scheiwiller, 1999), pp. 116–18.

¹⁵³
See Gerson,
De confessione castitatis
, in
Oeuvres
, 9:63.

¹⁵⁴
See the translation of her testimony in Elizabeth Petroff’s
Women
’
s Visionary Literature
(New York: Oxford University Press, 1986), pp. 284–90.

¹⁵⁵
Anecdotes
no. 227, p. 196.

¹⁵⁶
Bernard Gui,
Practica inquisitionis hereticae
2.7, ed. Célestin Douais (Paris: Alphonse Pi-card, 1886), pp. 43–44. The individual was still required to do penance for the
ensuing scandal.

¹⁵⁷
For her concern regarding the authenticity of her visions, which precipitated her consultation of the inquisitor in Toulouse,
see Noeïl Valois, ed., “Les révélations de Constance de Rabastens et le schisme d’occident” 2.19–20,
Annales du Midi
8 (1986): 256–57. The inquisitor forbade her to record any further revelations, at which point she countered with a series
of letters insisting on the legitimacy of her revelations and coupled with ominous predictions of his death (pp. 275–77).
See Renate Blumenfeld-Kosinski, “Constance de Rabastens: Politics and Visionary Experience in the Time of the Great Schism,”
Mystics Quarterly
25 (1999): 147–68, esp. 151, 160–61, and AndréVauchez,
The Laity in the Middle Ages: Religious Beliefs and Devotional Practices
, trans.

¹⁵⁸
See Dronke’s discussion of her case in
Women Writers of the Middle Ages
, pp. 213–14.

¹⁵⁹
Jean Duvernoy, ed.,
Le Registre d
’
inquisition de Jacques Fournier,
è
ve
ê
que de Pamiers
(1318
–
1325)
(Toulouse: E. Privat, 1965), Auda, wife of Guillelmus Fabri de Muro Veteri, 2:83; see her emendation, 2:94.

¹⁶⁰
Ibid., p. 83; see her emendation, p. 84.

¹⁶¹
Ibid., p. 94.

¹⁶²
Ibid. Cf. the predicament of Maria daughter of Petrus de Seravale from the inquisition in Bologna, whose voice became constricted
every time she tried to say the Pater Noster (Lorenzo Paolini and Raniero Orioli, eds.,
Acta S. Of
fi
cii Bononie: ab anno 1291 usque ad annum 1310
[Rome: Istituto storico italiano per il medio evo, 1982–84], 1:42).

¹⁶³
Duvernoy,
Le Registre
, Auda, 2:83–84. Heightened indignation was clearly employed by witnesses to affirm their orthodoxy. By his account, Guillelmus
told Auda that she was was lost and that the devil would carry her away body and soul (2:86). Ermengardis claims to have called
Auda “traitress” (2:87, 88), while others describe Ermengardis’s reaction as still more vehement. See n. 166, below.

¹⁶⁴
Ibid., Guillelmus Fabri, 2:86.

¹⁶⁵
Ibid., Ermengardis Garauda de Muro Veteri, 2:88.

¹⁶⁶
The fact that one had the title
magister
further suggests that William was on the lookout for credible witnesses. Before revealing Auda’s error, Ermengardis made each
of them take an oath secrecy—unless they had the leave of the said Guillelmus (ibid., Guillelmus de Infirmaria, 2:89). These
witnesses all claim that when Auda revealed her error, Ermengardis immediately responded with “ ‘To the fire, to the fire!’
” as does Guillelmus (Guillelmus de Infirmaria, 2:89; Magister Gaufridus Scriptor, 2:90; Bernardus de Querio, 2:91; Iohannes
de Monte Ventoso, 2:92).

¹⁶⁷
Ibid., Auda, 2:95.

¹⁶⁸
Ibid., Aladaycis, widow of Arnaldus Gamicii de Muro Veteri, 2:97; Ramunda, widow of Petrus Gamicius de Muro Veteri, 2:97–98;
Guillelma de Athone, daughter of Arnauldus de Athone, 2:98–99.

¹⁶⁹
Ibid., 2:98, 99. The same phrase is used to describe Mary of Oignies’s scrupulous searching of her memory. See chap. 2, p.
52, above. Auda’s imprisonment during her trial is mentioned in passing (ibid., Magister Gaufridus Scriptor, 2:90).

¹⁷⁰
Nicolas Eymeric,
Directorium inquisitorium . . . denuo ex collatione plurium exemplorum
emendatum, et accessione multarum literarum Apostolicarum
(Rome: In aedibus Pop. Rom., 1578), pt. 2, q. 6, p. 178; pt. 2, q. 2, p. 173.

¹⁷¹
Duvernoy,
Le Registre
, 2:99.

¹⁷²
Ibid., Aladaycis, 2:100–101; cf. the later episode, Auda, 2:98.

¹⁷³
Angela of Foligno,
Il libro della Beata Angela
1.1, pp. 132–33; trans. Lachance, p. 124; Margery Kempe,
The Book of Margery Kempe
1.1, 1.3, ed. Sanford Meech and Hope Allen,
EETS
, o.s., no. 212 (London: Oxford University Press, 1940), pp. 6–7, 12.

¹⁷⁴
For shame over an incubus lover, see Caesarius of Heisterbach (
Dialogus miraculorum
3.9, 1:121–22; trans. Scott and Bland, 1:136–37; 3.42, 1:162; trans. 1:182). Lutgard cures a nun of embarrassment so she can
confess a hidden sin, but also performs the same service for a man (
VLA
, p. 202; trans. King, p. 64). Also see Jean Gobi,
La Scala coeli
nos. 249, 268, ed. Marie-Anne Polo de Beaulieu (Paris: Editions du Centre National de la Recherche Scientifique, 1991), pp.
269–70, 278. In exempla a woman’s unconfessed sin often concerns motherson incest (Elizabeth Archibald,
Incest and the Medieval Imagination
[Oxford: Clarendon, 2001], pp. 133–44).

¹⁷⁵
Ep. 24, to an unnamed bishop, in
Oeuvres
, 2:90–93; trans. McGuire, pp. 240–44.

¹⁷⁶
Special treatises were dedicated to penitents preparing for confession. See, for example,
Tractatus breuis: penitentibus tamen utilis. de modo confessionis. ac et inquisitionibus faciendis
de peccatis
, Bodleian MS 555, fols. 109r ff. This English manuscript, written ca. 1400, belonged to an Augustinian house.

¹⁷⁷
John of Freiburg,
Summa confessorum
bk. 3, tit. 34, q. 85, fol. 193v. God performs the same function for Dorothea of Montau, furthering the conflation between
God and confessor—John of Marienwerder (Dyan Elliott, “Authorizing a Life: The Collaboration of Dorothea of Montau and John
Marienwerder,” in
Gendered Voices: Medieval Saints and Their Interpreters
, ed. Catherine Mooney [Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press, 1999], pp. 177–78).

¹⁷⁸
Raymond of Peñafort,
Summa de poenitentia
3.34.28, p. 463; Gui,
Practica
bk. 5, prologue, p. 236; trans.
WE
, p. 378.

¹⁷⁹
Ugolini,
Tractatus
c. 33, 1, fol. 263v; cf. Gerson,
De arte audiendi confessionis
, in
Oeuvres
, no. 7, 8:11 ff., trans. McGuire, pp. 368 ff.; Antoninus of Florence,
Confessionale
pt. 3, c. 2, fols. 23r–v. This may be empty rhetoric: Michaud-Quantin argues that little effort was made to convince or convert
the heretic (“La conscience,” p. 49).

¹⁸⁰
Duvernoy,
Le Registre
, Auda, 2:83.

¹⁸¹
Ibid., p. 85.

¹⁸²
Ibid., p. 95. The assembly of the wise practically all concurred that her penance be private and noninfamous (p. 102; for
her sentence, see pp. 103–4).

¹⁸³
Richer,
Gesta
4.18, pp. 307–8. The episode described above is translated in Charles Homer Haskins, “Robert le Bougre and the Beginnings
of the Inquisition in Northern France,” in
Studies
in Mediaeval Culture
(Oxford: Clarendon, 1929), pp. 225–26. It may allude to Robert’s 1236 persecution of the matron Petronilla of La Charité,
whom he accused of heresy but refused to acquit even after her canonical compurgation. She eventually appealed successfully
to the pope (Auvray, 10 April 1236, no. 3106). On Robert, also see chap. 2, n. 94, above.

¹⁸⁴
See Jacques Lacan,
The Seminar of Jacques Lacan: Book II
, trans. Sylvana Tomaselli (New York: Norton, 1992), esp. pp. 191–205, 196–97. See Jonathan Elmer’s analysis in
Reading the
Social Limit: Affect, Mass Culture, and Edgar Allan Poe
(Stanford: Stanford University Press, 1995), pp. 192–201.

¹⁸⁵
Cf. the recent revelation of the false confession made by the supposed perpetrator in the notorious Central Park Jogger case
(see Saul Kassin’s article in the
New York Times
, 1 November 2002). Amnesty International has also been alerted to this danger. See Edwin Dobb’s “False Confessions: Scaring
Suspects to Death,” in
Amnesty Now
28, 4 (2002): 6–9, 28. False confession is treated at length in Peter Brooks,
Troubling Confessions: Speaking Guilt in Law and Literature
(Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 2000).

PART 3

The Discernment of Spirits

Chapter Six

Clerical Quibbles

Satan, the crafty instigator, deposed from his seat,

uses

the traps of the sophists; he hides and pursues many things. He hides sometimes under the guise of atheologian,

sometimes a preacher, sometimes a confessor,sometimes a religious, sometimes a hermit, sometimes a prelate, and thus he turns
himself into the appearance of

whatsoever state. He has a thousand names and athousand

arts [
artes
] of harming. In the beginning, the crafty instigator pretended he was a theologian in the form of

an astute serpent; he spoke to Eve about God in

guile.
¹

(John Gerson)

AS THE THIRTEENTH CENTURY drew to a close, the realms of sanctity and heresy seemed to be caving in on one another. I have
suggested certain ways in which the inquisitional procedure might have facilitated this gradual collapse. But the pressures
it exerted to this end were corroborated by the methods of inquiry that prevailed in the universities of the period and the
kind of problems to which they were applied. The scholastic argument, or
disputatio
, and its implied approach to its subject matter bear some striking parallels with the inquisitional procedure.
²
This should come as no surprise. It was not an accident that a formal proof in an inquisition into sanctity, such as the one
undertaken by Peter of Colonna for Saint Louis IX, so easily lent itself to a disputational format.
³
Like the inquisitional procedure, the scholastic methodology had important twelfth-century antecedents, but its formalization
was a phenomenon of the first half of the thirteenth century. As with the
inquisitio
, it was then refined and popularized by the mendicant orders. The parallels between both the structure and the internal logic
of the two procedures, moreover, are remarkably symmetrical. In the
disputatio
, a scholar first isolates an area of investigation in the form of a proposition, which is presented as a
quaestio
. The
quaestio
is then interrogated so that two opposing sides emerge. One line of argument will attempt to support the proposition, while
the other will attempt its refutation.

Let us for a moment regard the proposition itself as the defendant in an
inquisitio
undertaken for whatever purpose. The argument in favor of the proposition corresponds to an argument for the defense, while
the opposing position (often heralded by
sed contra
or a similar phrase) represents the prosecution. If the question under discussion was first debated publicly, say, as a
quaestio disputata
or
quaestio de quolibet
, these roles might be divided between the master, his students, and some colleagues. But in the early public debates at least,
the master seems to have marshaled the arguments for both pro and contra. And this level of magisterial control may have continued
as more the rule than the exception.
⁴
Certainly by the time the
quaestio
achieves its written form the master plays every role: not only is he cast as procurator for defense and prosecution alike;
he simultaneously inhabits the role of judge, who pronounces the
determinatio
.
⁵
In this comprehensive capacity, then, the master is akin to the inquisitor of heretical depravity, who combines the roles
of prosecutor and judge. But in the scholastic question this similar conflation, with its incumbent bias toward the rejection
(or, rather, condemnation) of a given position, becomes even more pronounced, since the master is ultimately responsible for
the defense of the proposition as well. In essence, he is creating a fallible defense designed for refutation, rendering the
case for the prosecution virtually unassailable.

Yet the similarities between the two kinds of inquiries go beyond these structural features. Scholastic and inquisitional
personnel alike are praised and blamed for the dialectical and rhetorical techniques they employ en route to their respective
ends. Thus in scholasticism’s early days, Peter the Chanter (d. 1197) will liken certain theologians to sophists, use lessly
grappling with meaningless abstractions.
⁶
Scholars increasingly turned to the use of formal
sophismata
in their logical works, with the ultimate result that such methods were officially condemned at the University of Paris in
the fourteenth century.
⁷
Nicolas Eymeric, when discussing the most effective use of torture, encouraged the inquisitor to employ the “many licit tricks
[
cautelas
],” a number of which were verbal maneuvers, to provoke a confession. Individuals tried for heresy testify to the success
of the inquisitor’s verbal traps: thus Isabella of Bourges, one of the Beguins of Narbonne, fled from her initial summons
before the inquisitional tribunal, having already heard “what the lord inquisitor, saying subtle things [
subtilia dicens
], sought from those whom he captured or caused to be captured.”
⁸
For the Beguin notary Bernardus Sabri, the sin of the “carnal church” entailed a sophistical (
sophistice
) dismissal of Christ’s manner of life, which was to live in poverty.
⁹
Ecclesiastical authorities also tended to portray their various opponents as debased academics, constantly engaged in wily
wordplay. This chapter’s first two epigraphs, one above and the other below, present us with a theologizing Satan, whose technique
was replete with sophistical traps, while heretics, as agents of the devil, were understood to mirror their dark master. Stephen
of Bourbon claims that Cathars can be known by their
sophisticacio
, which exceeds that of the greatest master in Paris. According to Bernard Gui, many heretics escape “by verbal trickery and
carefully contrived subtleties [
fallacias verborum et per excogitatas astucias
] . . . slipping carefully out of their [the inquisitors’] hands by the sly cunning and tortuous ambiguities of their replies
[
per suas vulpinas, versucias et tortuosas responsionum
ambages callide
].”
¹⁰

Inquisition and scholasticism even partake of the same vocabulary to describe their various stages and goals. Both scholarly
and inquisitional agendas are driven by the need to prove (
probare
) certain contentions. Such proof is elicited through various articles (
articuli
) of interrogation. Both pursuits also generate sentences (
sententiae
) at the end of their respective inquiries. Naturally in the context of trials for heresy, these terms become much more than
mere mechanisms for gathering abstract truths, designating practices that color the terminology with somber hues. This is
nowhere truer than in the key terms for torture: to put someone to the question (
quaestio
) and, less frequently, “to prove” (
probare
) someone—a hideous exercise practiced on the joints (
articuli
) of the accused. Hence Bernard Gui encourages inquisitors to extract confessions and the names of confederates through “the
torments of questions [
per questionum tormenta
],” while Nicolas Eymeric cautions the inquisitor not to be too eager “to question someone [
ad quaestionandum aliquem
].”
¹¹

Thus the scholastic
disputatio
can be regarded as but another version of the
inquisitio
, epitomizing the unmistakable vector toward “incrimination” of a given proposition that is latent in inquisitional procedure.
Moreover, given its bias toward the condemnation of a certain article, the
disputatio
is not unlike the modern detective novel or, better still, its spin-off—a courtroom drama. With the verdict preordained, the
same side always wins, while the other side is time and again defeated. Nevertheless, it is essential that the ritualized
fiction of two competing sides be maintained. In fact, the seeming stability of this classroom drama is illusory. While the
scholar may appear undisputed master of this particular exercise, his apparent control extends no further than the narrow
confines of the
quaestio
that he has posed and resolved. He can never master the discursive implications of his own argument; other scholars can and
will disagree with him. The ecclesiastical authorities may also condemn some of his contentions: far from exploring and proving
the various mysteries of the faith, he might end up defending himself against charges of heresy.
¹²
But most important for our purposes is the possibility, or even the likelihood, of a complete reversal of any scholarly conclusion.
For if the inquisitional procedure has the potential to unite the extremes of sanctity and heresy by what I have described
as a covert bridge, this is even more apparent in the case of scholasticism. Now, however, the bridge is no longer covert,
but entirely exposed and available for anyone to traverse. Another scholar would, as a matter of course, gather the discarded
contentions that had been designed by their originator for the refutation of a given thesis and use them to argue the opposite
view.

These considerations are extremely important as we explore the fate of female mysticism in the later Middle Ages, which would
be affected by developments in the scholarly world—both indirectly and directly, formally and discursively. On a formal level,
female revelations will increasingly be examined through the lens of the hostile, inquisitional techniques of scholastic methodology.
On a general discursive level, unnerving developments in theology, particularly discussions about God’s potential for deceiving
humanity, not only articulated certain contemporary anxieties about salvation but would have the effect of casting a long
shadow of doubt over all subsequent supernatural communications. This scholarly debate certainly coincided with, and perhaps
even to some extent precipitated, a tendency toward increased surveillance of a mystic’s or visionary’s communications with
God. Although recognizing the impossibility of contriving an infallible method for assessing the integrity of what appeared
to be divine communications, scholars nevertheless strove to develop mechanisms that would ensure the highest degree of security
available, an impetus responsible for the flourishing of treatises on spiritual discernment.

GOD THE TRICKSTER IN ENGLAND

It happened, moreover, that on a certain day Master Albert [the Great] wished to have a quodlibetal ispute

in the schools; and he imagined that neither a human nor an angel would be able to trap him [
sibi concludere
]. . . .And a certain youth entered the schools in the semblance of a scholar and greeted the master, saying: “What is the
disputation about?” He answered: “It’s a quodlibet.” Then the scholar said: “On which point of the disputation are you?” He
answered: “Concerning angels.” And he said: “Therefore you should answer about angels, Master.” And the scholar presented
Albert with three arguments of such profundity that the master did not understand, nor did he know how to respond. The disputation
ended. All were to return the next day. That night after matins the master went through the cloister thinking about the arguments
of the scholar, and he heard a voice saying: “You have thought enough, Master. For I, one of the lesser demons in hell, trapped
you [
conclusi
] in order to humble your heart. Here is the center of the argument.” As soon as the master heard that, he immediately understood
the solution of the arguments. And the next day, he reported back and told the whole thing to all the others in the schools.
(Jacobus ab Aquis,
Chronicon imaginis mundi
)
¹³

I suggested earlier that, from a certain perspective, the scholar was a type of inquisitor. But other interesting analogues
also present themselves. Our two epigraphs, the one at the beginning of this chapter and the one directly above, convey a
different analogy, inviting us to consider the scholar as a type of demon. There is much to be said for this view. Lucifer
fell on account of pride, a failing that Albert is portrayed as sharing, and that is frequently considered a particular vice
of scholars, in keeping with the Pauline dictum that too much learning only inflates an individual (1 Cor. 8.1). One could
further aver that scholars and demons have similar vocations. Thus Aquinas, in response to the question whether “tempting
is the special job of demons,” will answer: “Properly speaking, to tempt is to put someone to the test so as to find out something
about him. Hence the immediate goal of any tempter is knowledge.”
¹⁴
Demon and scholar alike are duty-bound to put someone or something to the test in the pursuit of knowledge. Indeed, this function
can be further expanded to include many other clerical roles already examined, such as inquisitor (testing for an individual’s
true identity as saint or heretic), or the confessor seeking to promote the cult of his penitent (testing for the validity
of supernatural marvels manifested).
¹⁵

For Gerson, the devil is noted for his sophistical use of scholastic argumentation. This representation is on a continuum
with Gerson’s ongoing rebuke of scholars who become too wrapped up in novelties, exploring newfangled and often dangerous
metaphysical byways. The scholar-demon who challenges Albert, however, poses an unanswerable question that baffles the master
himself. Yet the story has a happy ending. For while Albert is temporarily humbled, he not only learns the correct answer
but learns it in time for the magisterial
determinatio
, which traditionally occurs on the day after the first session of the quodlibet.
¹⁶
Moreover, since it is a question that concerns angels, and Albert is the fortunate beneficiary of a native informant, the
answer may even be correct—always bearing in mind that the devil is the father of lies (John 8.44). But the anecdote also
lends itself to a less sanguine reading, one that brings it into alignment with Gerson’s concerns. More sober scholars recognized
and warned against certain theological issues that constituted dangerous inquiries, often spawning heretical outcomes.
¹⁷
A
quaestio
, once posed, could stir up attendant problems that might encourage one set of scholars to articulate what others would deem
unthinkable. On a tacit level, then, the exemplum might suggest that there are certain questions that should not be asked—questions
that could be answered only by a demon.