Sicut Scintilla Ignis in Medio Maris: Theological Despair in the Works of Isidore of Seville, Hrotsvit of Gandersheim and Dante Alighieri
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SICUT SCINTILLA IGNIS IN MEDIO MARIS: THEOLOGICAL DESPAIR IN THE WORKS OF ISIDORE OF SEVILLE, HROTSVIT OF GANDERSHEIM AND DANTE ALIGHIERI by Kristen Leigh Allen A thesis submitted in conformity with the requirements for the degree of Doctor of Philosophy Graduate Centre for Medieval Studies University of Toronto © Copyright by Kristen Leigh Allen 2009 Abstract Sicut scintilla ignis in medio maris: Theological Despair in the Works of Isidore of Seville, Hrotsvit of Gandersheim and Dante Alighieri. Doctor of Philosophy, 2009. Kristen Leigh Allen, Graduate Centre for Medieval Studies, University of Toronto. When discussing the concept of despair in the Middle Ages, scholars often note how strongly medieval people linked despair with suicide. Indeed, one finds the most recent and comprehensive treatment of the topic in Alexander Murray’s Suicide in the Middle Ages. Murray concludes that most medieval suicides had suffered from “this- worldly” despair, brought on by fatal illness, emotional or material stress, or some other unbearable circumstance. However, Murray also observes that medieval theologians and the people they influenced came to attribute suicide to theological despair, i.e. a failure to hope for God’s mercy. This dissertation investigates the work of three well-known medieval authors who wrote about and very likely experienced such theological despair. In keeping with Murray’s findings, none of these three ultimately committed suicide, thus allowing me to explore how medieval people overcame their theological despair. I have chosen these three authors because they not only wrote about theological despair, but drew from their own experiences when doing so. Their personal testimony was intended to equip their readers with the spiritual tools necessary to overcome their own despair. The first of my three authors, Isidore of Seville, will be treated in Chapter Two. Isidore’s works provide an excellent synthesis of patristic thought on despair and also hint at his willingness to share his own spiritual struggles in order to help his flock defeat this vice. Chapter Three discusses Hrotsvit of Gandersheim and her understanding of despair and presumption as closely interrelated mindsets that can afflict the repentant ii sinner. Hrotsvit’s own frequent admissions of presumption in her prefaces strongly suggest that she was also plagued with despair due to her unorthodox appropriation of the role of poeta. My fourth chapter considers Dante Alighieri’s Inferno, a poetic meditation on the ultimate fate of the desperate sinner and how such a fate might be avoided. Dante the Wayfarer will come to realize the necessity of God’s grace for those wishing to overcome sin. Indeed, all three of the writers studied consider this knowledge an important antidote to despair, proven by their own experiences. iii Acknowledgements The road to thesis completion was especially long for me, and I would not have gotten very far down it without the help of mentors, family and friends. I must first thank Joe Goering for showing forbearance and charity above and beyond the call of duty, as well as providing the guidance and support more typically required of a supervisor. I am also indebted to Isabelle Cochelin and Giulio Silano for supplying excellent advice and necessary challenges to my thinking. Likewise of great help were George Rigg, who shed light on Isidore’s clever word games in the Etymologies; Andrew Hughes, who helped me put a liturgical wild goose chase to rest; and Christopher Kleinhenz, who patiently introduced me to new aspects of Dante studies. I would have given up long ago without the steadfast support of my brother, Justin Allen, and my grandmother, Jean Allen, who always believed that I could do this. They often walked by faith and not by sight in this regard, and I am so grateful that they did. I have also been blessed with many friends who were excellent listeners and supporters during this long process: Melanie Brunet, Peter and Jodi Bubenik, Leah Cherniak, Lap Chung, Brett Dieter, John and Sarah Geck, Magda Hayton, John Knoezer, Jon Newman, Andrew Reeves, Margaret Rose, Sean Winslow, and Lorna Wright. Were it not for the reassurance of Grace Desa, I may never have finished my MA. Sage advice was also given by Dr. Danielle Thomas and the Rev. Andrew Asbil. Lastly, and most importantly, the biggest thanks must go to John, for everything. iv Dedication This thesis is dedicated to the memory of my mother, Jean Anne Knapp Allen (1954-1992) “Et nunc, domine, confiteor tibi in litteras: legat qui volet, et interpretetur ut volet, et si peccatum invenerit, flevisse me matrem exigua parte hora, matrem oculis meis interim mortuam quae me multos annos fleverat ut oculis tuis viverem, non inrideat sed potius, si est grandi caritate, pro peccatis meis fleat ipse ad te, patrem omnium fratrum Christi tui.” “And now, Lord, it is in writing that I confess to you. Let anyone read it who will, and judge it as he will, and if he finds it sinful that I wept over my mother for a brief part of a single hour—the mother who for a little space was to my sight dead, and who had wept long years for me that in your sight I might live—then let such a reader not mock, but rather, if his charity is wide enough, himself weep for my sins to you, who are Father to all whom your Christ calls his brethren.” Augustine, Confessiones, IX, 12, 33 Trans. Maria Boulding, O.S.B. ...and to my father, Dennis R. Allen. “Ben veggio, padre mio, sì come sprona lo tempo verso me, per colpo darmi tal, ch’è più grave a chi più s’abbandona; “per che di provedenza è buon ch’io m’armi.” “I can see, father, that time is spurring toward me to deal me such a blow as falls most heavily on one preceeding heedless on his way. “Thus it is good I arm myself with forethought.” Dante Alighieri, Paradiso, XVII, 106-109 Trans. Robert and Jean Hollander v Table of Contents Chapter One “Instar Cordis Desperati”: Introduction 1-19 Chapter Two “The Foot Fails”: Despair in the works of Isidore of Seville 20-85 Chapter Three The Rara Avis Presumes to Sing: Despair and presumption in the works of Hrotsvit of Gandersheim 86-216 Chapter Four Leaving the Selva Oscura: Despair in Dante’s Inferno 217-265 Chapter Five “Sicut scintilla ignis in medio maris”: Conclusion 266-273 Bibliography 274-289 vi Chapter One “Instar Cordis Desperati”: Introduction When I first considered writing my dissertation on the concept of despair in the Middle Ages, the work of Giotto presented an obvious starting point. Early in 1305, he completed the complex and masterfully executed programme of frescoes decorating the Arena Chapel in Padua, a marvel that has continued to draw pilgrims and tourists to the present day.1 Among its glorious panels they will find his famous fresco of Desperatio. The stark scene contains the body of a woman who has hung herself with what appears to be a piece of her own clothing. The fresco has suffered much damage over the centuries: the taut length of the noose has been scratched by passers-by as though they could not resist trying to cut her down. A small black demon hovers in the upper left-hand corner, implying that he had something to do with this last act and that he is about to claim her soul. Most of the demon’s body has been defaced, though his two thin talons are still visible as they reach toward the woman’s head. Her face is also difficult to make out, leaving the viewer to speculate as to what final emotions Giotto wanted to show there. The body language is still readable, however; Despair’s arms are flung out stiffly to each side, and her nails appear to be digging into the flesh of her palms.2 Though she is at the point of death, the self-destructive urges that led her there still plague her. 1 On the dates pertaining to Giotto’s life, see “Documents and Early Sources,” in The Cambridge Companion to Giotto, ed. Anne Derbes and Mark Sandona, (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2004), pp. xv-xvi. 2 Moshe Barasch, despite his familiarity with Giotto, did not discuss this figure in his Gestures of Despair in Medieval and Early Renaissance Art (New York: New York University Press, 1976); nor was Desperatio discussed in his Giotto and the Language of Gesture (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1987). Yet as Robert Rough has noted, the position of her arms is quite similar to what Barasch identified as the “Hippolytus” gesture often found in scenes of this period depicting frenzied or shocked mourners. See his “Enrico Scrovegni, the Cavalieri Gaudenti, and the Arena Chapel in Padua,” The Art Bulletin 62:1 (Mar. 1980): 24-35, here p. 28, note 33. Barasch does, however, discuss the fresco in his “Despair in the Medieval Imagination,” Social Research 66:2 (1999): 565-576. Here he argues that despair was usually 1 2 Giotto deliberately placed Despair and her counterpart Hope on opposite sides of the Last Judgment scene on the western wall, inviting the viewer to determine the nature of each by their relationship to the afterlife depicted there. The winged figure of Hope springs joyfully off the ground, reaching for the crown offered to her by an angel in the upper right-hand corner. She flies toward the heavenly ranks of the saints at the right hand of Christ. Despair, however, simply mirrors the hanged or otherwise tormented souls of the damned in Hell, most notably Judas Iscariot, seen on Christ’s left.3 Her feet, hidden by the length of her robe, also seem to have left the ground, but for a far more sinister reason.