Proving Woman (52 page)

And [the devil] makes this person feel a natural goodness and fulfillment, and hides his malice, just as when he transfigures
himself as an angel of light. But because he is not permitted to hide his malice for long, divine providence makes him reveal
it, prohibiting him from further deceiving this person, and his harmfulness [
noxietas
] is felt and his malice, and on account of this horror the person feels terror, and [the devil] abandons this quaking, trembling
man to whose soul he has attached himself. Meanwhile, the devil is also forced to reveal his own uncleanness, departing with
a terrible stench and abominable rottenness.
⁷⁵

A certain type of rapture or ecstasy can also be induced for purposes of divination by staring into a mirror, as the ancients
apparently practiced with young boys. This process attempts to drive the mind back on itself, opening it up to evil spirits,
an exercise that invariably degenerated into an experience of personal horror ending in sickness or insanity.
⁷⁶

Demonic possession probably provided the clearest physical manifestations of Satan’s influence. William of Auvergne insists
that there are certain telltale signs of demonic habitation in the human body. Evil spirits cause delirium and alienation,
outward indications of the pernicious lesions they will leave on the soul.
⁷⁷
Thus the demoniac is often recognizable by his hoarse voice because demons tend to usurp the vocal cords through violence.
Demons are sufficiently ill-adapted to the human form thatWilliam compares their appropriation of the voice with a person’s
attempting to walk with feet of wood.
⁷⁸
A demon never enters a body without inflicting damage: when the evil spirit attaches itself to the human soul, the soul cringes
at the contact just as it would as a result of touching a snake or some other poisonous creature. At the very least, a demon
will leave a permanent expression of horror on the face of the individual from whom he has departed.
⁷⁹
Thus John Nider recounts an instance in which a novice of thirteen was demonically possessed. Yet the symptoms of his possession
were raptures and other external indications of devotion, including a miraculous knowledge of Latin. After exorcism, however,
“the boy was again a rustic as before but with a difference: his face took on an unwonted and horrible aspect and such a doltish
expression that it was unclear that he could attain the degree of literacy required for the priesthood.” 80 In other words,
the physical symptoms of the boy’s true condition emerged only retrospectively in the stunned expression and reduced mental
capacity—far too late to protect either the demoniac from harm or the individuals whose credulity he might have imposed upon.

Fortunately, many holy women of the period were possessed of the gift of discernment. For this reason, Mary of Oignies never
doubted the validity of her own visions and frequently exercised her gifts on behalf of her friends.
⁸¹
Once when the devil appeared before her disguised as a good shepherd (a visionary allusion to the clergy’s pastoral duties),
her bristling hair left little doubt as to the true identity of her visitor.
⁸²
The tumultuous spiritual life of Ermine of Reims consisted almost entirely of her correct identification of demonic impostors.
In roughly two and a half months, Ermine was presented with an astonishing demonic repertoire of impersonations that included
her confessor; her deceased husband (in one instance seeking to exercise his conjugal rights); various compatriots from her
hometown; Saints Leger, Andrew, John the Baptist, Mary Magdalene, and Peter; a recently deceased friend; and a host of beautiful
angels.
⁸³
Again, she would frequently be apprised of their true natures by uncontrollable trembling or hair standing on end.
⁸⁴
Witnesses in the process of Clare of Montefalco describe a demonic illusion that parallels the experience of Saint Francis,
who was addressed and converted by a speaking image of Christ on a crucifix.
⁸⁵
Thus a cult developed around a certain crucifix that supposedly instilled feelings of sweetness and great delectation in its
worshipers, even inspiring fraudulent raptures that were followed by antinomian excesses. Clare immediately recognized the
image for what it was, however: a cross bearing a crucified demon.
⁸⁶
An unbearable smell of sulfur assailed Bridget of Sweden when in the presence of any individual under the influence of a diabolical
spirit.
⁸⁷
Joan of Arc also exercised the gift of discernment, exposing the mystic Catherine de la Rochelle as a fraud—an identification
that was seconded by her voices.
⁸⁸
Moreover, the count of Armagnac had written to Joan to ask which of the three men currently claiming to be pope should be
obeyed, a question that she left unanswered, as she was just mounting her horse when the letter arrived. But the arcane knowledge
that the count sought was a rarefied sort of spiritual discernment, if one grants that the true pope would be invested with
the special charisma of the Holy Spirit.
⁸⁹
The same could be said of Joan’s unfailing conviction that the dauphin, the future Charles VII, was the true king of France.
Indeed, even a female mystic’s miracle par excellence, the ability to distinguish between a consecrated host and its unconsecrated
counterpart, should be considered a highly specialized form of discernment.
⁹⁰

In short, actual instances of discernment, particularly female discernment, abound for the High and later Middle Ages. The
written discourse on discernment, however, lagged far behind the actual practice. After the sixth century, there seems to
have been little consideration given to the subject. But with the spiritual reawakening of the High Middle Ages, authors such
as Bernard of Clairvaux (d. 1153) and Richard of Saint Victor (d. 1173) would again take up the question of discernment.
⁹¹
In a sermon addressed to a group of nuns, James of Vitry would exhort them to test their religious experiences, cautioning
against dreams and revelations as potential snares of the devil.
⁹²
The intense reengagement with the issue, however, occurred in the fourteenth century. Certain female mystics addressed the
subject explicitly. For instance, Dorothea of Montau remarks on the way in which the devil can manipulate illness to produce
fraudulent raptures.
⁹³
Bridget of Sweden’s life and revelations show a particular sensitivity to questions of discernment.
⁹⁴
But a more systematic approach to discernment was pioneered by a series of important theologians who were trained at the University
of Paris and occupied official positions there; this corpus culminated in the works of John Gerson.
⁹⁵
While clearly responding to a religious climate in which visions and visionaries were rife, the reappearance of this discourse
also corresponds to the possibilities and dangers opened by Ockhamite influences. And yet the proposed remedy was something
of a placebo: the Godhead’s very freedom and potential duplicity, while creating a need for discernment, simultaneously deny
the possibility of its satisfaction.

The three scholars whose writings on spiritual discernment anticipated those of John Gerson were Henry of Friemar (d. 1340),
Henry of Langenstein (also called Henry of Hessia, d. 1397), and Peter d’Ailly (d.1420).
⁹⁶
All of these men would become masters at the University of Paris. In addition, Henry of Friemar served as regent to the university,
⁹⁷
while we have seen that Peter d’Ailly immediately preceded Gerson as chancellor before his elevation as a cardinal. Their
various treatments display considerable independence of spirit. Henry of Friemar’s
Treatise on the
Four Impulses
presents the different sources of inspiration as fourfold: divine, angelic, diabolical, and natural. Basically, the first
two impulses stimulate an increase in virtue, while the last two work to the opposite purpose. But each of these different
impulses is easily mistaken for any of the others. With both angelic and diabolical impulses, first impressions tend to be
misleading: angelic inspiration disturbs in the first instance (as with Gabriel’s address to Mary) but comforts in the end.
⁹⁸
Diabolical inspiration works in reverse: it is initially reassuring and only gradually begins to reveal its hostile nature.
A quintessential example of this latter effect would be in the area of love. Initially, two individuals may be drawn together
in an intense bond of spiritual love, which, over time, will reveal its truly carnal foundation.
⁹⁹
Finally, Henry associates the natural impulse with the kind of arrogance to which scholars would be particularly prone. A
person might be prompted to speak rare and subtle things that provoke admiration in others. Yet these grand words are counterproductive
in the manner that Saint Paul intonates: knowledge inflates; love edifies. Thus the simpler words proceeding from divine grace
are ultimately more fruitful. 100 This same natural impulse leads to complacency and self-congratulation, sapping spiritual
devotion and fervor.
¹⁰¹
Indeed, the presumption resulting from insipid philosophical learning ultimately alienates the scholar from himself and from
God.
¹⁰²
On a more local level, natural impulses can disturb meditation by producing a “flux of voluble thoughts”;
¹⁰³
they disrupt prayers through vain curiosity;
¹⁰⁴
they introduce counterfeit graces that are not from God but from their own fallen powers.
¹⁰⁵
This contrasts with the ideal, wherein both the lower powers of the soul and the appetitive powers connected to the body,
which are responsible for these disturbances, would be united under the will and inspired by divine exercises.
¹⁰⁶

Despite gestures in the direction of counterfeit graces and the like, Henry of Friemar thus interprets the impulse of nature
largely in terms of scholarly vanity—a focus that anticipates the kind of conflation of scholasticism and mysticism apparent
in Gerson’s work. Therefore the treatise does not directly engage the kind of physical challenges presented by the body’s
impingement on spiritual functions. In contrast, Henry of Langenstein’s
On the Discernment of Spirits
develops the category of nature as a vehicle for the diagnostic tendency observed in the previous chapter. Our second Henry
foregrounds his treatment of discernment by noting the extent to which a person’s spiritual leanings are predicated on personal
predispositions and circumstances—complexion, position of the planets, health, pregnancy, the passions, or the humoral imbalance
afflicting melancholics.
¹⁰⁷
For instance, he notes that certain dispositions are more bound to the flesh than others, and thus less susceptible to heightened
spiritual conditions.
¹⁰⁸
Such an awareness has a distinct tendency to naturalize the supernatural. As a result, Henry by and large passes over the
“spiritual delights . . . in contemplations or in the sacrament of the eucharist, etc. . . . or visions” that one might expect
would occupy a sizable portion of such a treatise. Instead, he warns those who deem themselves worthy of such extraordinary
experiences, and who murmur against God when they are not forthcoming, that sometimes “God permits them to be vexed and tried
by the most bitter temptations, into which they fall by their impatience and murmuring. And sometimes God in his anger permits
fantastic visions [
phantasticas visiones
] to be sent to them from whatsoever source, and they, who unduly desired to be prophets, become delirious and insane.” The
demand for spiritual rewards, tantamount to testing God, constitutes a perilous form of spiritual pride.
¹⁰⁹
As if to counteract this presumption, Henry’s treatise is inclined to de-emphasize supernatural intervention in an individual’s
life, often reiterating that not every vexation or difficulty is due to demonic influence: there is, after all, such a thing
as coincidence.
¹¹⁰
By the same token, he scorns individuals who interpret every outer act that might correspond to their wishes as a miracle.
¹¹¹
In keeping with this de-emphasis of the extraordinary, all extremes are regarded with suspicion, whether the fanaticism of
recent converts or an excessive asceticism that will not be restrained by sound counsel. Ultimately, both corporeal and spiritual
powers can become enervated, leading to a kind of stupefaction and even madness.
¹¹²
As ballast, Henry turns to the condition for the reception of divine speech, which, simply put, is love for God.
¹¹³
Hence, in contrast to Henry of Friemar, this later Henry was so anxious to de-emphasize an unhealthy overreliance on supernatural
explanations that he says practically nothing about discerning angelic or demonic influence. The treatise concludes with a
deliberate temporal hierarchy that determined whose spiritual impulses were, by definition, more meritorious.

Therefore when it is doubted as to whether the visions or the miracles of someone are from a good spirit, it ought to be considered
which state or position in the ecclesiastic hierarchy he occupies or occupied: certainly if he is a prelate or is a ruler
[
praeses
], if he is a teacher [
doctor
] in the authority of the church, if he is legitimately sent by the church or singularly by God for doing those things, over
which he involved himself. And he is bound to teach about his mission either through authentic letters, or evident miracles,
or with frequent correct predictions of the future. Otherwise the spirit, by which such a one acts, should be held suspect.
¹¹⁴

Such a ranking would not easily accommodate women, if at all.