Word made flesh #1

Now this is interesting.

The story is that of the Levite’s concubine from Judges (King James and Latin Vulgate): 

Judges 20.4: I came into Gabaa, of Benjamin, with my wife, and there I lodged: 5 And behold men of that city, in the night beset the house wherein I was, intending to kill me [volentes me occidere], and abused my wife with an incredible fury of lust [incredibili libidinis furore], so that at last she died. 6 And I took her and cut her in pieces, and sent the parts into all the borders of your possession: because there never was so heinous a crime, and so great an abomination committed in Israel. 7 You are all here, O children of Israel, determine what you ought to do.

According to the earlier narrative, the men who came to the house desired not to murder him but to rape him.  The host, reminiscent of Lot, offered his virgin daughter and his guest’s wife rather than the guest: “I will bring them out to you, and you may humble them, and satisfy your lust: only, I beseech you, commit not this crime against nature on the man” (“educam eas ad vos ut humilietis eas et vestram libidinem conpleatis tantum obsecro ne scelus hoc contra naturam operemini in virum”, Judges 19.24).  When she returned to the host’s house and fell dead on the threshold, her husband took her and cut her into twelve pieces, which he sent “into all the borders of Israel” (Judges 19.29.  The outrage summoned the Israelites, whom he addressed as above; and war was the result[1]. This is an image of the key scene from a 13th century Bible Moralisée (sadly blurry):

Österreicheische NationalBibliotecke Codex Vindobonensis 2554 fol. 65v, copied from Caviness 148.

The upper two images are of the corpse being brought home on an ass, and then being divided for distribution.  The lower two are of Jerome and Augustine helping Lady Philosophy  down from the ass of paganism, then giving the twelve books of the Patriarchs to the apostles.

But note the very deliberate visual parallels.  The corpse and Philosophy are helped down from the ass, Philosophy drooping in a way that imitates the inertia of the corpse.  As the corpse is dismembered into twelve parts for demonstrative distribution about the land, Philosophy is fragmented into twelve books to be distributed via the apostles.  Even the divided body parts are very flat and square, resembling images of the parts than the parts themselves, and lacking the curves that usually mark the feminine.

So the books are directly glossed as the dismembered body parts, which are themselves implicitly converted to relics and offered for idolising perusal, their femininity negated.  The female body of Philosophy, meanwhile, appears to have been constructed entirely of the books into which she is fragmented (and she has no more agency of her own, even when intact, than does the corpse). Word is made flesh – just as the words in the books are written on the dismembered flesh of the sheep who kindly donated the parchment.

This also raises the question of the female body as text.  It is not an autonomous text, however, but glossed, interpreted and directed by men – and the written word itself is essentially a male-dominated medium, so in converting to words the body that had temporarily escaped the Levite’s control, he reasserts his ownership and control. It becomes a commodity to be distributed according to the gift and will of its owner, with no more meaning than he chooses to assign it.  The woman’s experience of rape is not heard, only the man’s experience of theft.

Nevertheless – the woman has become Philosophy, and distributed to the inspiration of men’s intellect.  Grammatically feminine, of course, so she must be depicted by a woman, but it’s not a bad reincarnation for a gang-raped concubine, surely?


[1]   Which I’m sure was a great comfort to her.




Cited: Caviness, Madeline H. Visualizing Women in the Middle Ages: Sight, Spectacle, and Scopic Economy. Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press, 2001.

Poor Piers.

I just translated a sentence from a small Latin chronicle. The translation came out as "And in regarding him, the son of the king was suddenly struck with such love that he formed a potent and intimate bond with him, choosing above all other mortals to entangle with him in indissoluble chains of pleasure."

And the word I translated as 'bond', 'foedus', can mean alliance or treaty, or marriage contract, or union, or sexual relationship - and when it's an adjective, it gets into moral hysteria about FILTHY and BASE and REPUGNANT and OBSCENE and UNNATURAL.

Poor Piers Gavaston. Everyone gets so steamy-headed as soon as they start talking about him. Hugh never had this problem.

Save the unicorn!

Just a short post, as I'm sick and tired and not really eager to engage the cerebellum...

Wandering through the blogsphere, I encountered David Badke's post on unicorn capture at his bestiary blog. It contains several manuscript images, all after a pattern: virgin with the unicorn in her lap, man or men slaughtering the helpless beast. Finally, he questions,

And what are we to make of the maiden’s betrayal of the trusting unicorn? Well, we can’t be sure she was in on the trick; maybe she didn’t know the true intent of the hunters. In some illustrations, the maiden seems upset at the killing.

The girl in the image included at this point is indeed reaching out her hand towards the killer in some sort of gesture, perhaps of supplication. It's hard to tell - she also has the unicorn's horn trapped under her arm, effectively preventing it from moving. But on looking back, all the girls (save one) in the images are gesturing.

There are other similarities: like many other similar manuscript illustrations, there seems to be a pattern. In all but one image, the girl and unicorn are on the left side of the painting. The girl always gestures with the hand farthest from the 'camera' - ie, her left hand, except in the one reversed image. Her other hand is on the unicorn, usually on its horn, and in most of the pictures she could be read as restraining the unicorn. In some, the gestures seem to be encouragement to the hunters; in some, reproach or shock, perhaps. The figure of the maiden in this series of images, then, can be seen as expressing a kind of ambivalence to the death of the unicorn: complicit (to varying degrees) in its capture, she may also prefer not to see it actually slaughtered.

There is one striking exception, in the image from Harley MS 4751. Here, the maiden's arms are wrapped firmly around the unicorn, her right hand at the nape of its neck, her left pinning its forelegs to its chest, while she turns her head to smile at the hunters. More than complicit, she is taking an active role in betraying and restraining the unicorn to prevent it from resisting its slaughter. In fact, the way she clasps it to her body is almost sexual, but of course we all know that sexualised women are evil and treacherous, so that's not surprising. If we are to read the unicorn as a Christ analogue, this falls in with some of the more dramatic depictions of either the torments before the crucifixion, or the betrayal of Judas (an embrace for a kiss?).

Anyway. The reason for this post was to add another exception, in the other direction: an image in which the girl was apparently just enjoying a peaceful cuddle with her unicorn when along came a knight with a great big spear to attack it. Again, the girl is to the left and her left hand is the one held out to the knight, but in this instance I think her aversion to the unicorn's death is much clearer. And interestingly, this is the only one in which the unicorn is free. She is not holding it - her hand rests on its head in what can only be a friendly or affectionate gesture, not a restraining one - and its head is turned around so that the long horn is levelled at the knight's chest. Uselessly, of course, as his spear is already in its side, but it's not quite the passively suffering or cruelly betrayed Christ anymore.

Ormesby Psalter, Bodleian MS Douce 366

The Sixth Deadly Sin: Lecherie

Well, people always seem to focus on sin #6, but lust just doesn't seem to concern Lorens much. It takes up about three pages, not even so many as sloth. The division of lechery seems not so organised as most of the others, or else it's over-organised. He seems to re-start the categorisation twice.

Firstly we are told that by lechery the devil tempts a man "in fyue maneres" (43): by foul looks, then foul words, then foul kisses, then foul touchings, then "comeþ a man to do þe dede". Presumably a woman does also.

Then we are told that this sin is divided into two parts:

Lechery of the heart, divided into four degrees by the spirit of lust.
- First he makes thoughts and figures of sin come into the heart.
- Next the sinner delights in these thoughts, though refusing to act on them.
- Assent of the heart, reason and will to the deed.
- Then comes greater desire and "grete brennynge [burning] wille þat þei haueþ to synne". This is followed by a mention of how women dress up to attract lustful looks, thinking no harm of it, but that as Solomon says "sche haþ no membre on hire body þat nys a grynne of þe deuel" (44), and she will have to answer for it come Judgement Day.

Lechery of the body is divided into lecherous looking, hearing, speaking and touching, and "in alle þe fyue wittes", and particularly "in þe foule dede". Lorens backtracks a little after this to assure us that it isn't just about sex (I translate): "To that sin belong all things that a man's flesh is moved to, and desires fleshly lusts, such as outrageous eatings and drinkings and beddings easy and delicious, and soft shirts and smocks and sweet robes of scarlet, and all other eases of the body that is more than need is." Ye-es. That might sound more convincing if it was less sensual. Whose soft, delicious body is that sweet robe of scarlet clinging to, Lorens?

We then seem to revert to the beginning again, and are told that the sin of lechery is divided into many branches. I count fourteen, all of which (to contradict his previous assertion) are about sex, specifically about whom one has sex with.

Between unbound persons: between people who are not bound by a vow not to have sex, but aren't married to each other.

With a comune woman: No prostitutes allowed. This is "fouler" than the previous sin.

Man unbound with woman bound.

With a married woman: "auoutrie", adultery. This is a double sin if both are married.

Unlawfully within marriage: when a married couple do "þing forboden... agens kynde [nature] and agens þe ordre of wedloke" (45). No details are given, but depending on place and time this usually included everything but missionary-style vaginal sex with the man on top, not in a holy space (consecrated ground) or a forbidden time (such as Lent), and not committed excessively. Or possibly enjoyed excessively.

Incest, ie, with his mother or daughter or the children of his godparents.

With other close relatives. I do wonder why these two weren't conflated.

With one's spouse's kin.

Unbound woman with a clerk in holy orders.

Unbound person with a person of religion.

Between monk and nun.

With a prelate.

And here I thought we were passing over the love that dare not speak its name. Not so - we can condemn it without actually naming it. Number 14 and last:

Unnatural ways. I translate: "The last is so foul and so hideous that is should not be named, that is sin against nature, which the devil teaches to a man or to a woman in many ways that may not be spoken, for the matter is so foul that it is abomination to speak it; but nevertheless be it man or woman that be guilty thereof he must tell it openly in his shrift to the priest as it was done. For because the sin is fouler and shamefuller, in so much is the shrift worth more for the shame that he hath that shriveth himself thereof, for that is great part of his penance. This sin is so displeasing to God that he made rain fire and stinking brimstone upon the cities of Sodom and Gomorrah, and sunk into hell five cities. The devil himself that purchases that sin is squeamish thereof when any does it" (46).

So there you are. Spite the devil and commit an unnatural sex act today? I do wonder, given the emphasis on how sinful it is to even name this act (we're told three times in the first sentence), if the sinner is rather caught in a bind on coming to confession. Yes, the shame is important to his penance, but if speaking it is a sin ought he write all the sordid details on a slip of paper and hand it through the screen to the confessor? We wouldn't want to compound the sin in the moment of confession, after all.


Unless otherwise specified, all quotes are from The book of vices and virtues: a fourteenth century English translation of the Somme le roi of Lorens d'Orleans. Ed. W. Nelson Francis. Early English Text Society OS 217. London: Oxford University Press, 1942.