No More Learning

. . O saving greeting, spoken by the angel, instructing us in how we should greet the Virgin! O joy of the heart, sweetness to the mouth, seasoning of love! "47 e Benedictine nun and visionary Elisabeth of Scho? nau (d. 1165), who was accustomed to salute the Virgin in this way, enjoyed a vision of Mary standing at an altar and arrayed in a vestment "like a priestly chasuble," while on her head she wore a "glorious crown decorated with four precious gems, and the angelic salutation, 'Hail Mary, full of grace, the Lord is with you,' was inscribed around it. "48
Much as Richard of Saint-Laurent had insisted they should be, these recitations of the Ave Maria were typically accompanied by genu ections, usually before her images, sometimes multiplied tens or even hundreds of times. As the biographer of the Premonstratensian canon Hermann Joseph (d. 1241) explained:
It is the common custom in our order, and I think that the same is true of other orders also, that as o en as the venerable name of the Most Holy Virgin is mentioned in the Collect, in the Creed, in the Preface, and in the Angelic Salutation which is said for the Invitatory (in Salutatione Angelica, quae dicitur pro Invitatorio), the community makes a momentary reverence (veniam) in peniten- tial or ferial seasons by falling upon their knees, and on festivals with the hand.
Hermann himself was accustomed to make a full prostration at every mention of Mary's name, at which he experienced a scent of extraordinary sweetness, more pleasing than that of any ower or other perfume. 49 According to her biogra- pher Jacques de Vitry, the beguine Marie d'Oignies was sometimes so overcome with devotion that she would salute the blessed Virgin eleven hundred times a day, keeping this observance for forty days in a row. First, she would genu ect six hundred times without pause; second, she would recite the whole Psalter, standing, genu ecting, and o ering the angelic salutation at the conclusion of each psalm; third, moved even more strongly by the spirit of devotion, she would genu ect three hundred times while striking herself with the rod of discipline, going so far as to draw blood with the last three blows "to give avor to the oth- ers"; nally, she would consummate the sacri ce (sacri cium consummabat) with y more simple genu ections. 50 Less spectacularly if no less devoutly, the teen- aged beguine Margaret of Ypres said every day four hundred Pater Nosters and four hundred Ave Marias "with the same number of genu ections, as well as y
psalms," most likely short verses accompanied by salutations to the Virgin. Worn out by these devotions, Margaret sometimes found it di cult to stand. "At such times," according to her biographer omas of Cantimpre? , "she could palpably feel the touch of two angels, one on her right side and one on her le , li ing her by the elbows," who would sustain her until she could recite ten more saluta- tions to Mary, at which she would revive and be able to nish her prayers. 51 e Cistercian nun Beatrice of Nazareth maintained a similar observance, reciting every day, "with genu ections, the psalter of the Blessed Virgin (psalterium beate virginis) which," her biographer explained, "consists of as many repetitions of the angelic salutation as there are psalms in David's psalter. "52
Strange as these devotional exercises may seem today, it would seem that in the Middle Ages the Virgin Mother was greatly pleased by such attentions, as those who related the stories of her miracles were eager to attest. 53 e Cistercian Caesarius of Heisterbach (d. ca. 1240) told the story of a certain recluse who lived next to the church of Saint Severinus in Cologne "during the time of the schism between Alexander and Paschal," whom the matrons of the city would o en visit. One of these women confessed to the recluse "she could not say the name of Our Lady without tasting a wonderful sweetness. " Upon being asked the cause of such a great favor, she responded: "Every day in her honor I have been accustomed to say Ave Maria y times with the same number of genu ections (veniis), through which I have earned such sweetness that all the spittle of my mouth seems to be turned to honey during the time of prayer. " Encouraged by the matron's example, the recluse took up the exercise himself. A er six weeks, he, too, began to sense in his mouth and throat a sweetness "far surpassing the sweetness of honey" every time he greeted the Virgin. 54
Other e ects of saluting the Virgin were even more tangible, if not always enjoyed by their recipients while they were alive. A certain monk who always devoutly said her Hours was healed of a tumor in his throat by a drop of her milk. 55 A monk who fell into a river and drowned on his way to see his mis- tress was rescued from the demons who came to demand his soul because, as the Virgin said, "I know that he never le the monastery without saluting me. "56 A certain cleric who drowned while drunk was buried in unconsecrated ground until, that is, his body was exhumed and a tag was found hanging from his mouth inscribed with the words with which he had been accustomed to salute the Vir- gin: "Ave Maria, gratia plena, Dominus tecum. "57 An unlettered knight who had entered the Cistercian order but could learn only the two words "Ave Maria" was found a er his burial to have a lily growing from his mouth on one leaf of which were inscribed in letters of gold the same two words with which he had so devoutly honored the Virgin. 58
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Sometimes the circumstances were even more complicated, o en leading more recent readers to insist that Mary rewarded her devotees without regard for their overall spiritual or moral status. 59 And yet, as Anne Clark has elegantly shown, such stories of Mary's favor "o en suggest a more subtle message in which devo- tion to Mary is part of a complex religiosity. "60 One such story, rst recounted by the Benedictine Guibert of Nogent (d. 1124) and retold numerous times thereaf- ter, including in the vernacular, concerned an adulteress, the wife of whose lover prayed to the Virgin to punish her, only to be told that the Virgin couldn't:
Why [the Virgin reproved the wife in a vision] do you ask me for revenge over that woman? Clearly I can do nothing against her because daily she announces to me my joy, than which nothing is more pleasing for me to hear from any creature. Do you think that against her on your behalf I ought to be provoked, who, as if to remind me, cries out so sedulously concerning my ine able glory? 61
Other versions of the story recounted how the adulteress made her devotions before the image of the Virgin "every day on bare knees" (Jean Gobi), "[bowing] a hundred times, with her forehead touching the ground" (Alfonso X). All, how- ever, emphasized how her devotions rendered her apparently immune against the Virgin's anger. 62 Understandably incensed at the Virgin's reply and vowing to withdraw her own devotional attentions since the Virgin would not (again, apparently) help her, the wife railed against her rival when she met her entering the church: "O most foul one, how many torments will you in ict on my soul? "
I had only one hope, that the Virgin Mother of God might cast sentence of revenge against you, but already I have failed utterly in this hope, for she told me that that Ave, with which you capture her attention every day, has so ened her to such a degree that it is unbe tting for her to do anything against you. 63
At which--perhaps contrary to expectations if not to the logic of the story--the adulteress immediately repented and, in one version at least, knelt before the Vir- gin's image and vowed to become a nun. 64 As the cantigas of King Alfonso X el Sabio (d. 1284) told it: " us the Virgin caused these two women to mend their quarrel, whereas formerly they had snarled at each other with hatred as bitter as green grape juice. "65 As Clark has observed, the point of the story is not that saluting the Virgin allows the adulteress somehow to "get away" with her sin, but rather that her devotions accomplish not only her conversion but also her rec- onciliation with the woman whom she had wronged. Like the knight who con- verted from a life of robbery upon learning that the only thing protecting him
from a demon sent to capture his soul was his daily recitation of the Ave Maria, so with the adulteress: there was nothing that pleased the Virgin and dismayed the demons so much as reminding the Mother of God of her greatest joy. 66
Nor was it enough to say the angelic salutation a certain number of times without proper attention or in a rush. Again, King Alfonso's cantigas related a story that was widely known of a nun (in other versions, named Eulalia, some- times of Saxony, at others of Saint Edward's at Sha esbury) who was accustomed to say every day a thousand Ave Marias with much "weeping and moaning and a great deal of sighing. " One night, however, the Virgin herself appeared to the nun (some said while she was asleep; others, including Alfonso's cantiga, that she was not) and reproved her:
If you wish me to be pleased by your prayer, when you say the salutation which the holy angel gave me, say it calmly and do not hurry, for we assure you that when I hear how God visited me, I derive so much pleasure therefrom . . . that I tell you it seems to me then that I have God the Father [sic], Beloved and Son, within my body again. erefore, we beseech you that you adopt a way of pray- ing very slowly. . . . Leave out two parts of what you formerly said and say well the third, and we shall love you more for this. 67
As other versions made clear, the delight that the Virgin experienced on hearing the words Dominus tecum "uttered lingeringly" (prolixius) was itself impossible to express in words, so great a thrill of joy (magnum gaudium) had she experi- enced on feeling her Son within her when he deigned to be born from her for the salvation of humankind. 68 ink of the butter ies that you feel in your gut on catching sight of your beloved or, if you have been pregnant, the feeling of your child moving in your womb for the rst time multiplied beyond reckoning, as if somehow you could contain the whole of creation in your very body. is--her medieval devotees were convinced--was what the Virgin felt every time they saluted her with these words. As the Carthusian Ludolph of Saxony (d. 1377) put it in his popular Vita Christi, citing "Bernard": "For you, Virgin Mary, to hear this angelic verse, the Ave, was like a kiss. Indeed, most blessed one, you are kissed as o en as you are devoutly greeted by the Ave. erefore," he urged his readers, "go to her image, bend your knees, and press kisses upon it, and say the Ave. "69
Signi cantly, it was not only the Virgin who bene ted from such recitations, as the nun Gertrude of Hel a learned one year as she and her sisters celebrated the Feast of the Annunciation. On the vigil of the feast, when the martyrology was read, Gertrude saw Christ turn to his Mother and "[salute] her with a most pleasing inclination of his head, as if to renew in her that sweet and inestimable
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joy which she had felt when His incomprehensible Divinity took esh in her womb, and united itself to our nature. "70 Even more striking, or so one of her sisters recorded, was the vision that Gertrude experienced as the nuns intoned the invitatory for the O ce of the feast itself:71
While the Ave Maria was chanted at Matins, Gertrude beheld three most e ca- cious streams, which owed with a sweet impetuosity from the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit into the heart of the Blessed Virgin, and owed back again from her heart with the same e cacious impetuosity to their original source. By this in owing of the Holy Trinity, it was given to the Blessed Virgin to be the most powerful a er the Father, most wise a er the Son, and most benign a er the Holy Spirit. Gertrude understood also that every time the angelic salutation, that is, the Ave Maria, is recited with devotion by the faithful on earth, that these aforesaid streams over owing with an even more e cacious force, owed over the Blessed Virgin and into her most holy heart, and thus with a wonder- ful sweetness returned to their source. From that over owing, little streams of joy, of delight, and of eternal salvation are splashed over on the persons of all the saints and angels, and especially on those on earth who are mindful of the angelic salutation, through which in every one is renewed every good which they have obtained through the Incarnation of the Son of God. 72
At Gertrude's wondering what form of devotion would be most acceptable to the Virgin at this time, the Mother of God instructed her to say forty- ve Ave Marias each day during the octave of the feast, that is, forty- ve times six or 270 repetitions of the salutation, the same as the number of days that her Son spent in her womb. 73
Once again, such service was so pleasing to the Virgin as to render her inca- pable of refusing anything that her devotees might ask, for indeed, the Virgin explained, "they would [thereby have rendered] her the same service as if they had attended her with the greatest care from the moment of conception to the time of the birth. " Accordingly, the Virgin went on, this was the way in which Gertrude should say the salutation. At the word "Ave" she should desire "the alle- viation of those weighed down with heaviness. " At the word "Maria" she should look for "the penitent to continue in good works. " At the words gratia plena she should long for "the taste of grace for those who had it not. " At the words Domi- nus tecum she should ask "indulgence for all sinners," while at benedicta tu in mulieribus she should desire "grace for those who had begun to live well. " At ben- edictus uctus ventris tui she should long for "the perfection of the elect. " Finally, she should conclude each Ave with the words Jesus, splendor paternae charitatis
[ Jesus, splendor of fatherly love] "for true knowledge," and gura substantiae ejus [ gure of his substance] "for Divine love. "74 Another time, when Gertrude had o ered the Virgin a hundred and y Aves, "praying that she might be pres- ent in her maternal piety at the hour of [Gertrude's] death," every word that she repeated appeared "like a piece of gold o ered before the tribunal of the Judge, and commended by him to his Mother," who, like a good steward, kept them until that time as she should need them for Gertrude's consolation and aid at her death. 75 In return Gertrude o ered similar sets of Aves along with the one hundred y psalms to assist her sisters at their death. 76
Learning the Ave
Under such circumstances it was therefore hardly a small thing--as it were, merely an educational minimum--to insist, as did diocese a er diocese over the course of the thirteenth century, that every Christian man and woman know how to recite the angelic salutation and do so as the council held at Coventry in 1237 mandated, "seven times a day," as per the injunction of "the Prophet, who said, 'I have praised you seven times a day. ' "77 Such legislation makes clear once again that saying the Ave Maria was understood as itself an abbreviated form of the full canonical o ce of seven hours o ered in praise of the Virgin. So, for example, according to the Ancrene Wisse, while the recluses themselves were expected to say the Hours of the Virgin kneeling or bowing every time they said Mary's name, as we have seen, those who did not know the full O ce or for some reason or other could not say it were to recite thirty Pater Nosters, with an Ave Maria a er each Pater, and a Gloria Patri a er each Ave for Matins; likewise, they were to say twenty Paters, Aves, and Glorias for Vespers and een each at every other hour. Presumably these recitations did not include the ve Aves that every anchoress was expected to say each morning kneeling before Mary's statue and the Pater and Ave that she was to say before and a er each of the seven daily hours, nor the multiple repetitions of Paters and Aves throughout the day accompanying her other devotions to God and the Virgin, but this is not clear. e sisters were, however, allowed to cut ten repetitions along with their genu ections from Mat- ins and ve each from the other hours if they were ill. 78
Likewise, as we have seen, there were the statutes promulgated at more or less the same time throughout Europe allowing all those serving in hospitals to sub- stitute recitations of the Pater Noster and Ave Maria for the o ces they might otherwise not be able to say. 79 As the statutes for the hospital of Notre-Dame founded in 1237 by the countess Jeanne of Lille explained, the sisters and lay
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brother who knew them were to say the Hours of the Virgin, while those who did not were to observe the following ordo: twenty- ve Pater Nosters and as many Ave Marias or seven psalms or seven repetitions of Miserere mei Deus (Psalm 50) at Matins; seven Pater Nosters and as many Ave Marias or two repetitions of Mis- erere mei Deus at each of the hours of Prime, Terce, Sext, None, and Compline; ten Pater Nosters and as many Ave Marias or three repetitions of Miserere mei Deus at Vespers, thus ful lling the service of the canonical hours despite the fact that they did not (yet? ) know the full text of the Marian O ce. 80
Similar concerns would appear to be behind the rules of life for the various confraternities of the Virgin established over the course of the thirteenth and fourteenth centuries. 81 e instructions for the observance kept by the Domin- ican confraternities of Pisa according to the rule established in 1312 are partic- ularly telling. While the clergy were to recite the full Divine O ce and those who were not clergy but were able to read were to say the Hours of the Virgin, the other members of the confraternity were to say every day twenty- ve Pater Nosters and twenty- ve Ave Marias with a Gloria Patri followed by a brief lauda: "Benedetto sia lo nome del nostro segnore Ihesus Christo e della sua dolce madre Vergine Maria. " e Pater Nosters and Ave Marias were to be distributed over the course of the day, with ve each to be said at Matins and Vespers, and three for each of the four Little Hours plus Compline. 82 Similar provisions were made by the Penitents of Saint Dominic. e brothers and sisters were required to say the canonical hours (horas canonicas) daily, consisting of twenty-eight Pater Nosters and Ave Marias for Matins, fourteen Pater Nosters and Ave Marias for Vespers, and seven Pater Nosters and Ave Marias for each of the other hours. 83
Notably, both of these confraternity rules also include instructions for saying additional Pater Nosters and Ave Marias. At Pisa, while the clergy and laity who knew them were to say the Seven Penitential Psalms every day "for the living and the dead of our company," everyone else was to substitute seven Pater Nosters and seven Ave Marias following the Requiem aeternam. 84 Likewise at Pisa, everyone was to say a Pater Noster, an Ave Maria and the Gloria Patri both before and a er eating, along with the lauda: "Benedecto sia quel segnore, che ci a` creato, recom- perato e pasciuto, e ongne fedele anima defunta per la misericordia di Dio riposi in sancta pace. Amen. "85 Among the order of the Penitents of Saint Dominic, those who knew them would say either Miserere mei Deus (Psalm 50) or Laudate (Psalm 148 or 150? ) before and a er meals, while the others would say a Pater Noster. 86 As with the provisions made for the hours at Lille, so with the rules of the confraternities and order of Penitents, structurally the Pater Nosters and Ave Marias were clearly standing in for the psalms that the brothers and sisters would otherwise say, pointing at once to the importance attached to praying according
to the canonical horarium and to the way in which saying the Ave Maria, like the Divine O ce itself, was understood as a service to God.
Instruction in saying the Pater Noster and Ave Maria was accordingly wide- spread, including in some regions e orts to make the texts available in the ver- nacular, whether as a part of the O ce of the Virgin or incorporated into more extended, o en poetic meditations on the Ave Maria itself. 87 Arguably even more signi cant was the provision made by the friars, particularly in the context of the Marian confraternities, for preaching every Wednesday (Dominicans) or Friday (Franciscans) of the week, in addition to the sermons that were preached every day throughout Lent and on feast days. 88 Such sermons might range over the whole content of the liturgical year, necessarily including each of the four major feasts of the Virgin (Puri cation, Annunciation, Assumption, and Nativity). At least once a year, on the Annunciation (March 25), congregations would hear a sermon on the signi cance of the angel's greeting. Some of these sermons were preached extempore, but some were collected and published as models for sub- sequent delivery, thus providing an important glimpse into the way in which late medieval audiences were taught to think about the Ave Maria and the Virgin Mother to whom it was addressed. 89
But this was not all. For those friars and other clergy interested in exploring the mystery of the angelic salutation in more depth, perhaps simply for them- selves, perhaps in preparation for their own sermons, in addition to these model sermons, a number of thirteenth-century commentators penned whole treatises explicating Gabriel's and Elizabeth's words, one of the most prominent of which was the commentary on the Ave Maria or Speculum seu salutatio beatae Mar- iae virginis written by the Franciscan Conrad of Saxony. 90 In similar fashion, the Rouen canon Richard of Saint-Laurent framed his De laudibus beatae Mariae virginis as an exposition of the angelic salutation, while an anonymous Austrian or Bavarian monastic contemporary compiled some two hundred thirty quaes- tiones on the particulars of the evangelical event. 91 Friars like Conrad seem to have particularly enjoyed meditations on Mary's name. e Franciscan preacher Servasanctus of Faenza (d. ca. 1300) compiled a whole psalter of titles based on a declension of the grammatical elements (letters, syllables, words, phrases) in the salvi c exordium (Luke 1:28), while late in life, the Dominican Jacobus de Voragine added to the Marian sermons that he had preached during the litur- gical year a compilation of one hundred sixty meditations on her various titles, symbols, and attributes, arranged according to the letters of the alphabet. 92 For Servasanctus, as, indeed, for Richard, unlocking the mystery of the angel's Ave involved understanding the whole of creation, while for Jacobus, every recitation of the angelic salutation invoked a veritable encyclopedia of names for the Virgin Mother of God.
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Almost unknown today, all ve of these works enjoyed a marked popularity throughout the later Middle Ages and well into the seventeenth century. Long believed to be the work of the Franciscan Saint Bonaventure, Conrad's Speculum survives in some 247 known manuscripts, the vast majority from the fourteenth and eenth centuries, with provenances from across both eastern and western Europe. 93 Running to some 840 double-columned pages in the 1898 edition, Richard's De laudibus beatae Mariae virginis was nevertheless copied into man- uscript upward of thirty times, while the Mariale, sive CCXXX quaestiones super Evangelium "Missus est Angelus Gabriel," running to more than three hundred double-columned pages in the same 1898 edition, is known in as many as thir- ty-two extant copies, including copies made before 1300 in both Cologne and Paris. 94 Servasanctus's one hundred- y-chapter Mariale is extant in some een known manuscripts with provenances ranging from the Franciscan convent of Santa Croce in Florence to the cathedral library in Valencia, the Augustinian house at Glatz (Bohemia), the Benedictine community of Bury St. Edmunds, the Carmelite house in Paris, the Augustinian house at Bordeaux, and the monastery of Saint Cyprian in Murano (this last copy also includes an incomplete version of Richard's De laudibus). 95 Albeit hardly as well known as his Legenda aurea, Jaco- bus's alphabetic Mariale also enjoyed a wide circulation, surviving in as many as sixty fourteenth- and eenth-century manuscripts, as well as at least three early printed editions. 96 Conrad's Speculum was printed four times by 1521 as the work of Bonaventure,97 while Richard's De laudibus beatae Mariae virginis passed into print as early as 1473 along with the Mariale, sive CCXXX quaestiones super Evangelium as the work of the Dominican Albert the Great. 98 Although Rich- ard's De laudibus beatae Mariae virginis was published under his own name by Jean Bogard in 1625 (as well as among the works of Albert in 1651),99 the Mariale, sive CCXXX quaestiones super Evangelium was accepted as the work of Albert until 1952. 100 Meanwhile, the copy of Servasanctus's Mariale, which had made its way from Bologna to Glatz as a gi of Archbishop Ernestus of Prague (d. 1364), was printed in 1651 as the work of the archbishop himself. 101

It would be easy to go on. Almost every aspect of late medieval European Christian religious life was marked--and enhanced--by salutation of the Virgin. From the invitatory sung at Matins to the threefold Ave Marias recited with the Franciscans' encouragement at the ringing of the bells at the end of the day (the "Angelus"), from the multiple genu ections made before the images of Mary to the ubiquitous altarpieces and Books of Hours depicting the angel kneeling
before the Virgin in imitation of her earthly devotees, from the Mary-psalters of the twel h, thirteenth, and fourteenth centuries to the fully developed rosary of the eenth said while ngering one's beads, the mystery of the words spoken by the angel was invoked aurally, visually, corporeally, and haptically day a er day. 102 So familiar, indeed, was the practice of saying the Ave Maria that it might even be used, as one late fourteenth-century handbook for household manage- ment famously put it, to time how long one should allow eggs to cook or sugar to melt for a glaze. 103 And yet, for all its familiarity, the Ave Maria never ceased to enchant. Just as the Virgin herself never wearied of being reminded of her joy, so her devotees--monks, nuns, friars, canons, clerics, beguines, anchoresses, lay brothers and sisters, kings, ladies, knights, matrons, and members of her confraternities--seem never to have wearied of saluting her, for, as their poetic reiterations of the angel's greeting, likewise their commentaries, sermons, and treatises made clear, these were words that contained a mystery in which they themselves longed to participate and yet which mere words could hardly contain.
"Let him kiss me with the kiss of his mouth" (Song of Songs 1:1). is--or so her medieval devotees averred--is what Mary exclaimed when she under- stood herself about to bear in her womb "him whom kings and prophets had not deserved to hear or see. "104 "What is this exclamation so great, so unlooked for? ," wondered the Benedictine abbot Rupert of Deutz at the beginning of his commentary on the Song of Songs de Incarnatione Domini:
O blessed Mary, the inundation of joy, the force of love, the torrent of delight covered you entirely, possessed you totally, intoxicated you inwardly, and you sensed what eye has not seen and ear has not heard and what has not entered into the heart of man, and you said: "Let him kiss me with the kiss of his mouth. "105
is was the mystery of Mary's overshadowing, the mystery of the kiss with which the Trinity espoused her at the moment of the Incarnation. As the great teacher (Doctor Universalis) Alan of Lille (d. 1203) explained in his commentary on the Song of Songs, the kiss of verse 1:1 was a triple kiss, the rst kiss being that of the Incarnation by which the divine is joined to human nature; the second, that of the Holy Spirit, by which the Son kisses the Father and the Father loves the Son; the third, that of the presence of the doctrine of Christ. " ese are the kisses," Alan elaborated, "by which the Father kisses the Son, the bridegroom the bride, the Lord the handmaiden, the son the mother, the nursling the nurse. " Accord- ingly, these were the kisses that Mary invited on hearing the angel's "Ave. "106
e Premonstratensian prior Philip of Harvengt (d. 1183) was, if anything, even more explicit, particularly about the identity of Mary's divine lover.
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According to Philip, "hearing that she had been betrothed to the Son of God and was to give birth to God and man," the Virgin burned with the Spirit or rather with love, for that which the angel had promised was to be accomplished in her. As the Virgin herself remembered the moment: " e voice of the angel that had told me of such great blessings fell silent, and the Son of God who betrothed himself to me a virgin approached," at which she cried out:
Let him kiss me with the kiss of his mouth. . . . Let him touch me with his mouth; let his touch ll me with great grace; let him deem me worthy of his kiss; let him make me fertile with his spirit. For indeed there is in a kiss of the mouth not only the exterior joining of the lips, but also a certain internal exhalation, which if it is pure will be lled with a sweet taste, as if the one kissing pours a sweet spirit into the one kissed. 107
Who could not--Philip's contemporary Amadeus, the Cistercian bishop of Lausanne (d. 1159), enthused--want to know what Mary's experience at this moment had been like? As Amadeus apostrophized the Virgin ("the most precious impress of the divine seal [agalma], the most holy vessel in which the Word of God was conceived") in the third of eight homilies that he composed in her praise:
We pray you, Lady, most worthy Mother of God, not to scorn those who seek in fearfulness, ask in piety, knock in love; we ask, by what feeling were you moved, by what love were you held, by what incitement were you stirred when these things took place in you and the Word took esh from you? Where was your soul, where your heart, where your mind, where your sense, where your reason? 108
Amadeus was not the rst nor the last to be seized by this pious curiosity. 109 Some two hundred years later, Mary's devotees were still wondering, in response to which the Carthusian Ludolph of Saxony suggested a remedy, purportedly citing Amadeus's own teacher, Bernard:
O, if you were strong enough to sense of what sort and how great was that re sent from heaven, that consolation conferred, that solace infused! how great the li ing up of the Virgin Mother, how great the ennoblement of the human race, how great the condescension of majesty! If you are able to hear the Virgin singing with joy, I think that you should begin to rejoice with her equally for so great a blessing and never cease to sing thanks to God. So that therefore you may be able to renew such a great joy for the Virgin and recall it to mind, do not neglect to salute her repeatedly with the sweet verse of the Angel and to imprint kisses of devout salutation on her feet, saying: Ave, Maria. 110
Two hundred years earlier, Amadeus' contemporary and fellow Cistercian Aelred of Rievaulx (cited by Ludolph as "Anselm") had been equally insistent in advising his sister in her life as a recluse on how she was to imagine the arrival of the angel in the Virgin's chamber:
Hear him as he utters his greeting, and so, lled with amazement and rapt out of yourself, greet your most sweet Lady together with the angel. Cry out with a loud voice: "Hail, full of grace, the Lord is with you, blessed are you among women. " Repeat this several times and consider what this fullness of grace is in which the whole world shared when the Word was made esh and dwelt among us, full of grace and truth. Wonder at the Lord who lls earth and heaven being enclosed within the womb of a maiden, whom the Father sancti ed, the Son made fertile, and the Holy Spirit overshadowed. 111
It would be surprising indeed if such regular practice did not leave a sweet taste in the mouth.
P l at e 7 Annunciation, "Incipit horae beatae marie virginis. " Book of Hours, Belgium, ca. 1475. Use of Ghent. Chicago, e University of Chicago Library, Special Collections 184, fols. 61v-62r.
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Photo courtesy of Special Collections Research Center, e University of Chicago Library.
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NAMING MARY: MARIA
Sweet it may have been to repeat the angel's salutation in this way, but who, a er all, was this maiden to whom Gabriel had been sent? Even with the angel's example it was--or so her medieval devotees soon realized--another thing altogether to adequately describe, not to mention praise, the one saluted daily in their recitation of her Hours in whose womb "the Lord who lls earth and heaven" had been enclosed. For many, like the Franciscan Walter of Wimborne ( . 1260s), it was di cult to even know where to begin. As Walter confessed at the outset of his Marie Carmina, a poetic retelling of the life of Mary and Christ:
Once I wrote a song of Mary
Six in feet, its truth contrary.
Now verse I draw from quiver rude;
O grace, let me a poet prove.
In praise I sharpen blunted pen
To cry the Virgin's praise again.
But, oh, that words would harmonize
In style with that which I do prize.
Vile, brief, and rude though writing be, In praise of you, it's oratory.
And all the writer bums become
Like tongues of angels, cherubim.
If all the world turned into quills
And atoms scribes, for all their skills
is host could not her praise reveal
Nor even match the Virgin's heel.
As many scribes as there are leaves, Rocks, pebbles, groves, or dripping seas Could not the Virgin worthily
Describe in all eternity.
If scribes were numbered with the stars at twinkle in the face of Mars
Or drops of rain that on earth fall,
e matter's weight would crush them all. To praise, therefore, love urges me
e Virgin in her majesty;
And mildly she calls me to stand,
e o ered reed to take in hand. But I that pen accept with fear; To her dictation I adhere, Incapable of nding sense,
With her support my sole defense. My reed is blunt and rather slow; My love lukewarm, my thinking low. A student rude, I take my seat
To write that which she says is meet. 112
But why was it so di cult to write about Mary? Surely, as the sixteenth-century reformers would insist, everything that one needed to know about her had been encompassed in her response to the angel's greeting (Luke 1:38: "Behold, the handmaid of the Lord"): namely, that she was humble and obedient, a true handmaiden (ancilla) of God, most likely engaged in housework when the angel arrived. 113 What more needed to be said? In a word: everything. Praising Mary, or so her medieval devotees contended, was more than simply a matter of showing the proper respect to the woman in whom God had taken up his dwelling on earth. It was in a very real sense an exercise in praising God, for it was a er all he to whom she had given birth.
What did it mean to say with the prophet Jeremiah, "the Lord has created a new thing on the earth: a woman shall compass a man" (31:22), when that "man" was himself the Creator of heaven and earth? Or with Ecclesiasticus, "he that made me rested in my tabernacle" (24:12), when that "tabernacle" was the space of the Virgin's womb? Visually, the magnitude of the mystery is perhaps best expressed through contemporary iconography of the mappa mundi. For exam- ple, in the monumental map made in the late thirteenth century for the Bene- dictine convent at Ebstorf in Lower Saxony, the world itself is shown as the body of Christ with his head, hands, and feet peeking just over the oceanic frame, and in the late thirteenth-century map now in the cathedral at Hereford, as it was originally framed, Gabriel and Mary stood on either side of the world, enclosing the creation in the moment of the angel's greeting. 114 Representations of Christ as Creator such as those that appear as frontispieces for a number of the more lav- ishly illustrated thirteenth-century Bibles moralise? e make a similar point: Christ enthroned holds the cosmos in his bosom with his le hand while he measures its dimensions with an architect's compass in his right. 115 And yet, it was in just this way, or so her devotees marveled, that Mary had carried Christ in her womb and supported him as a baby on her lap, just as they beheld her doing every day in the sculpted and painted images before which they knelt in prayer.
116
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e miracle was not just that a virgin had become pregnant and given birth, but rather that he who was the Creator of all things had entered into his own creation--the Artist into his Work--by way of one of his own creatures and, further, had lived for nine months in her womb. What kind of artist (artifex) not only could, but would be willing to become subject in this way to the material limitations of his own art? It would be as if the Oxford philologist J. R. R. Tol- kien (d. 1973) were somehow not simply the author of e Lord of the Rings, but there in the story with Frodo, Sam, and Gollum, struggling their way into Mordor; or with Eowyn and Merry, ghting the Witch King to the death; or with Pippin trying to persuade Gandalf to come to Faramir's aid. But, again, this is what medieval Christians believed: that the Maker had somehow entered "into the thing that He [had] made . . . than which He is beyond measure greater," like the "singer into his tale or the designer into his picture. How"--or so the devout Catholic Tolkien imagined his artistic subcreation the woman Andreth wonder- ing as she whispered of this hope to the Elf Finrod--"could He the greater do this? Would it not shatter Arda [the world], or indeed all of Ea? [creation]? "117
Medieval Christians wondered much the same thing. How could the Maker of heaven and earth enter into his creation--physically, materially, corporeally, historically--without shattering the very thing he had made? eir answer: through Mary. "O Lady," Anselm of Canterbury marveled in the third of the three great prayers that he wrote in her praise, "you showed to the sight of all the world its Creator whom it had not seen. . . . [By] you the elements are renewed, hell is redeemed, demons are trampled down and men are saved. . . . O woman full and over owing with grace, plenty ows from you to make all creatures green again. " Over and over again in his prayer, Anselm emphasizes that it was Mary through whom the Creator of all things came into the world. She it was who was the "gateway of life, door of salvation, way of reconciliation, approach to recovery" and "the palace of universal propitiation, cause of general reconciliation, vase and temple of life and universal salvation. " For Anselm, the metaphors invoked through Mary's many titles were hardly as passive as some more recent critics of this traditional imagery have argued, but paradoxically-- awe-inspiringly--active. 118 Mary was no mere passage to be taken and then for- gotten, no mere vessel to be lled and then discarded by God. Rather, as both container (aula, vas, templum) and way (porta, ianua, via, aditus) she was herself an agent in making God visible to his creatures: "You showed to the world its Lord and its God whom it had not known. " Without Mary, God would have remained invisible, "Father of all created things," yet still "only ruling invisibly over them all. " rough Mary, God revealed himself to the world as at once its Creator and Redeemer: "God who made all things made himself of Mary and
thus he refashioned everything he had made. . . . So God is the Father of all cre- ated things, and Mary is the mother of all re-created things. . . . For God gave birth to him by whom all things were made and Mary brought forth him by whom all are saved. " According to Anselm, it was for this reason that "nothing equals Mary, nothing but God is greater than Mary": Mary, as vessel, as way, was the human, creaturely agent of the Creator's entry into his creation. 119
Hildegard of Bingen--or, rather, her heavenly voice--explained the mystery perhaps most succinctly: " e blessed and ine able Trinity showed itself to the world (se mundo manifestauit) when the Father sent into the world his Only-Begotten, conceived by the Holy Spirit and born of the Virgin, so that humans, born so diversely and bound by so many sins, should be brought back through Him to the way of truth. "120 More lyrically, again in Hildegard's words--or rather those of the chorus of Heaven praising the Virgin through whom the Trinity was made visible to the world:
O splendid jewel, serenely infused with the Sun!
e Sun is in you as a fount from the heart of the Father;
It is His sole Word, by Whom He created the world,
e primary matter, which Eve threw into disorder.
He formed the Word in you as a human being,
And therefore you are the jewel that shines most brightly, rough whom the Word breathed out the whole of the virtues, As once from primary matter He made all creatures. 121
What Hildegard sought to capture in her music, medieval sculptors attempted to convey visually in statues in which Mary's abdomen or chest is inset with a polished crystal, the Christ-child within shining forth from her body like the very sun. 122 In Hildegard's imagery, Mary is at once material and transparent, the luminous matter (lucida materia) in which the Word took human form and through which he breathed forth his virtue into the world. She is the creature through whom God entered into his creation, the "prime matter of the world" (prima materia mundi), which Eve had perturbed. Like a jewel sparkling in the sun, Mary was infused with light, lled with God. And yet, as a sequence by the Augustinian canon Adam of Saint Victor (d. 1146) for the Feast of the Nativity (Christmas) put it, the Son came forth from her without shattering her, that is, without breaking the seal of her chastity, just as a crystal "moistened and placed in the sunlight emits a little spark of re" without breaking. 123 Here Mary's unbro- ken seal of virginity stands in for the whole of creation, which God, its Maker, miraculously entered without destroying it, like light shining through a jewel.
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Container of the Uncontainable
Mary was a mystery which, it would seem, only metaphor could adequately con- tain, if, that is, the metaphor were expanded to include the whole of heaven and earth and everything--animal, vegetable, and mineral, natural and arti cial-- therein. "Not only heaven and earth," or so the anonymous early thirteenth-cen- tury author of a series of sermons on the antiphon Salve Regina put it,
but also other names (aliis nominibus) and words of things (rerum vocabulis) ttingly designate the Lady. She is the tabernacle of God, the temple, the house, the entry-hall, the bedchamber, the bridal-bed, the bride, the daughter, the ark of the ood, the ark of the covenant, the golden urn, the manna, the rod of Aaron, the eece of Gideon, the gate of Ezekiel, the city of God, the heaven, the earth, the sun, the moon, the morning star, the dawn, the lamp, the trumpet, the mountain, the fountain of the garden and the lily of the valley, the desert, the land of promise owing with milk and honey, the star of the sea, the ship, the way in the sea, the shing net, the vine, the eld, the ark, the granary, the stable, the manger of the beast of burden, the store-room, the court, the tower, the castle, the battle-line, the people, the kingdom, the priesthood.
Nor was this all:
She is the sheep, the pasture, the paradise, the palm, the rose, the river, the draught, the dove, the column, the clothing, the pearl, the candelabra, the table, the crown, the scepter, the bread, the oil, the wine, the tree, the rod, the cedar, the cypress, the plane-tree, the cinnamon, the balsam, the myrrh, the frankin- cense, the olive, the nard, the crocus, the reed, the pipe, the pen, the gum, the sister and mother.
"Indeed," the already long-winded preacher apologized, "that I might brie y con- clude, all Scripture was written concerning her and about her and because of her, and for her the whole world was made, she who is full of the grace of God and through whom man has been redeemed, the Word of God made esh, God humbled and man sublimed. "124
As Richard of Saint-Laurent and his contemporaries read the scriptures, it would take a book--indeed, many books--just to begin to elucidate all of the gures of Mary contained therein. It took Richard twelve: one to establish the angelic salutation as the model for all addresses to the Virgin Mary; one to explain why and how Mary ought to be praised by her servants; four to list the privileges,
virtues, beauties, and names of Mary; and six to enumerate all of her gures in heaven and on earth mentioned in the Bible. According to her medieval devo- tees, not just scripture, but all of creation was re ected in Mary, "the mirror of great purity," as the German minnesinger Heinrich von Meissen or Frauenlob (d. 1318) put it, "in which God saw himself from the beginning. " "I was with him," Frauenlob has Mary declare, echoing Wisdom 7:26, "when he formed the whole creation; he gazed at me with desire unceasing. "
I carried him who carries earth and sky and yet am still a maid.
He lay in me and le me without labor. Most certainly
I slept with ree--
till I grew pregnant with God's goodness.
And what goodness!
I am the eld that bore in season
wheat for the sacred mysteries. . . .
I am the throne the Godhead
never ed--since God slipped inside. . . . All that the prophets prophesied--
of me alone their words were said. 125
Whether clerical hyperbole expressing an underlying ambivalence about elevat- ing a mere woman to such heights of cosmic and theological signi cance (as at least one recent scholar has put it), or blasphemy, making Mary (as the sixteenth- century reformers would have it) equal to God, the one thing such metaphorical and titular exuberance, once tapped, could hardly be was restrained. 126
For Richard of Saint-Laurent, there was seemingly nothing to which Mary, "the tabernacle and the triclinium of the whole Trinity," could not be compared. 127 the moon, the horizon, the morning star, the dawn, the daybreak, the morning, the light, the day, the cloud. She was the earth, the threshing- oor, the plain, the eld, the mountain, the hill, the desert, the rock. She was the fountain, the well, the stream, the river, the torrent, the water, the pond, the riverbed, the bucket, the lake, the jug, the shell, the canal, the pipe, the aqueduct, the bath, the sh- pond, the pool, the vein, the spring water, the cistern. Nor were her gures lim- ited to things in the natural world. She was the ark, the throne, the chair, the
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litter (ferculum), the settle, the tribunal, the seat, the teacher's chair (cathedra), the footstool, the couch, the rest, the dwelling, the storeroom, the nest, the cell, the medicine chest, the treasure chest, the library, the temple treasury, the wom- en's quarters, the place, the granary, the mill, the oven, the kiln, the forge, the pal- ace of the highest emperor, the court, the tabernacle, the bridal bed, the house, the temple, the city, the camp, the castle, the village, the tower, the rampart, the wall, the ship, and the ark of Noah. And (in one of the most elaborate images of all) she was the garden enclosed praised by the Beloved in the Song of Songs, along with all of its delights, fragrances, owers, herbs, trees, and birds. Mother, beloved, sister, dearest one, daughter, bride, wife, widow, good woman, virgin, virago, prince, queen: Mary bore all of these titles in her relationship with God, along with those of the celestial, terrestrial, built, and cultivated world. 128
Hard as it may be to believe, there were those who might argue that even Richard had not been encyclopedic enough in his scope. For Frauenlob, the Virgin was also the weasel who "bore the ermine who bit the snake," the lion's roar "that roused its cub from death's rst ood," the re "in which the phoenix renewed its youth," and the Grail "that healed the noble King's great woe. "129 For Jacobus de Voragine, she was likewise the bee, the dove, the ivory, the elephant, the chicken, the lily, the pearl, the sheep, the mirror, and the eece, not to men- tion (as Richard had) the almond, the cedar, the cypress, the galbanum, the olive, the palm tree, and the rose. As Jacobus explained: "For just as according to the philosophers, those things which are scattered among the animals by nature are gathered together in human beings through reason, like simplicity in the dove, kindness in the lamb, liberality in the lion; so all the graces which are given to others are gathered together in Mary at the same time. "130 Accordingly, for the fourteenth-century Dominican compiler of the French Rosarius, Mary was the panther (or leopard) in her temperance, the swallow in her desire for contem- plation, the stork in her lo iness of life, the ewe in her suitability for sacri ce to God, the whale in her protection of others, the lark in that she was full of grace, the salamander in her adaptability, the bee in her sweetness, the swan in her song at death, the nightingale in her nobility, the pigeon in her removal from the world, the tortoise in the hardness of her shell, the dromedary to the camel that is Christ, and the falcon in the gentility of her heart and body. 131 Not to be outdone, the English Franciscan Walter of Wimborne likewise composed, in addition to his lengthy Marie Carmina, a 164-stanza poem in Latin inspired in part by the images compiled by Richard in his De laudibus beatae Mariae virginis, hailing the Virgin as (among other things) phoenix of virgins, key of heaven, maidenly gem, room (zeta) of the Word, abyss of honey, saw of death, incense of heaven, shield of sinners, and wagon of God. 132
To be sure, such e orts to describe Mary in all her referential glory could, if the Spirit so willed, lend themselves to what some might call a certain elitist (a. k. a. educated) obscurantism, but their point was not mere--or not merely-- showing o . 133 Rather, and rather more modestly, they were an attempt to capture in nouns or names (nomina) that which all the words in the world could not hope to describe. ere are four reasons, Jacobus contended, that God's human creatures are not able to praise Mary su ciently. First, on account of their weak- ness; second, on account of their unworthiness; third, on account of her dignity; fourth--and, arguably, most important--on account of the insu ciency and poverty of words, "because suitable words do not exist for us (verba idonea nobis de ciunt). "134 As Dante, arguably the greatest poet of the Middle Ages, perhaps in all of Christendom, excused himself for not describing the Virgin more fully in his Paradiso,
And even if my speech were rich as my imagination is, I should not try
to tell the very least of her delights. 135
Indeed, or so one anonymous fourteenth-century Flemish poet somewhat mischievously suggested, arguably the greatest praise one might give to Mary would be to admit that he could never praise her enough. As the poet set the scene, "once there were three masters, pro cient in learning and chosen in wis- dom," who met one day to discuss how best they might praise the Virgin. e rst, Albert of Cologne (that is, Doctor Albertus Magnus [d. 1280]), argued that if all the owers, grass, herbs, beasts, and even the stars of heaven were to have tongues and could speak as wisely as the masters from Paris to the Danube, they could not thank her or praise her virtues and nobility enough. e second, Henry Formater (that is, the Doctor Solemnis Henry of Ghent [d. 1293]), argued that if every drop of water in the seas and rivers, every grain of sand, all the rain, hail, and snow which has fallen since the beginning of the world had tongues and could speak as wisely as the masters from Paris and Montpellier, they could not thank her or praise her chastity and virtue enough. e third, Jacob van Maerlant (d. ca. 1300), the hero of the piece despite the fact that he wrote not in Latin but in Dutch and was no philosopher but merely a poet, argued that if all the sh in the sea, the worms in the ground, the beasts in the forest, the birds in the air, and the crops in the eld had tongues and, moreover, even if they were joined by all the saints, angels, apostles, confessors, martyrs, and virgins, who then did nothing but speak her praises with a hundred thousand tongues, every one the wisest in the world, still they could not thank and praise the Virgin enough.
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At which--somewhat predictably, given the circumstances--the great scholastic philosophers Albert and Henry declared Jacob their master "because you have spoken the praise of Mary better than we did. is we admit. "136
Under such circumstances, even the language of scripture might come to seem inadequate. e great Franciscan Doctor Seraphicus Bonaventure of Bagnoreg- gio (d. 1274) put the mystery this way in the rst of the sermons that he preached for the Feast of the Annunciation:
Because the mystery of the incarnation of the Lord is so secret and deep that no understanding is able to seize it, no tongue able to unfold it, the Holy Spirit, con- descending to human weakness, wished that it be described by many metaphors (metaphoris), by which as if led by the hand, we might come to some knowledge of it. For, according to the Apostle [Romans 1:20], "the invisible things of God are made comprehensible through those visible things that have been made. "137
"A rod shall come forth out of the root of Jesse, and a ower shall rise up out of his root, and the Spirit of the Lord shall rest upon him" (Isaiah 11:1); " e Lord will give goodness, and our earth shall yield her fruit" (Psalm 84:13); "He who created me rested in my tabernacle" (Ecclesiasticus 24:12). According to Bonaventure, all of these visible things (root, rod, and ower; the earth and her fruit; the tabernacle in which the Creator rested) were ways of attempting to express the same incomprehensible mystery: how the immensity of the eternal majesty con ned itself in Mary's womb. As the Mother of God Mary was the temple in which "the whole Divinity dwelt corporeally" (cf. Malachi 3:1). 138 She was the house of David in which "the true David, Christ, dwelt and dedicated to himself and blessed for all eternity" (cf. 2 Kings [Samuel] 7:29). 139 And she was the ark of the covenant in which "all the treasures of wisdom and knowledge are hidden because in her she contained the esh of Christ" (cf. 2 Chronicles 5:8). 140 Indeed, as Bonaventure understood it, without Mary, that "wonderful vessel, the work of the Most High" (Ecclesiasticus 43:2), the whole universe would be deformed: "For if you take the Mother of God from the world, in consequence you take the incarnate Word, without which the deformity of sinning and the error of sinners would remain. "141
Nor was it only Mary whom Divinity had infused. Isaiah heard the seraphs sur- rounding the throne of the Lord calling, " e whole earth is lled with his glory" (Isaiah 6:3), which is to say, the humanity of the Son of God " lled the most sacred womb of the Virgin and in consequence the whole universe. . . . [and] that plenitude which was in the Virgin Mary over owed into the whole Church. "142 Filling the Virgin's womb, God the Creator over owed in his goodness to su use
the whole of creation, now transformed in both grace and meaning. "He who created me rested in my tabernacle" (Ecclesiasticus 24:12), that is, Bonaventure explained, he who was Creator was also the inhabitant of that which he had cre- ated because he was both God and man, Alpha and Omega. Inhabiting the Vir- gin corporeally, he likewise rested sacramentally in the tabernacle of the militant Church (that is, the Church on earth), while at the same time resting spiritually in the tabernacle of the faithful soul as well as sempiternally in the tabernacle of the celestial court. " us," Bonaventure argued, "what is said [in this text] is true in every mode, namely literally, allegorically, morally, and anagogically. "143
Full of Grace
It would be hard to imagine--would it not? --how such an indwelling could not have had some e ect on the Virgin, other than her giving birth, although many since the sixteenth century have insisted that it did not, that Mary was "just a housewife" who was obedient to God. Perhaps the most contested e ect of this indwelling since the mid-nineteenth century, and thus in the modern historiog- raphy of her cult, has been her preservation whether before or a er her concep- tion from sin. 144 For Mary's medieval devotees, however, the e ects included not only her spiritual, but also her intellectual state, o en to what some would later ridicule as a preposterous extent. Never mind (although the debate was a erce one) whether she was conceived without original sin or only sancti ed in her mother's womb, what did the Virgin in whom the Creator of all things had made his dwelling know? According to the thirteenth-century Mariale, sive CCXXX quaestiones super Evangelium of Pseudo-Albert the Great, everything: Mary had knowledge of all of the mechanical arts, especially those having to do with weav- ing, and all of the liberal arts, including those of the trivium (grammar, rheto- ric, dialectic) along with civil and canon law, physics and medicine, and those of the quadrivium (music, astronomy, arithmetic, and geometry), not to mention theology and all the matter of Peter Lombard's Sentences, the textbook of the Scholastics. 145 As Hilda Graef writing in the mid-twentieth century somewhat dismissively commented, "had the author lived in our own time he no doubt would have added aeronautics and nuclear physics"--and why not? 146 Moreover, Pseudo-Albert would insist, Mary had not only perfect knowledge of the Incar- nation "through grace and singular experience," but also perfect knowledge of the Trinity "without mediation," as well as knowledge of her own predestina- tion; of souls and spirits, angels, and demons; of the scriptures, what ought to be done and what ought to be contemplated; of all creatures "through nature,
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grace, and contemplation"; and of "evening and morning," that is, rst and last things. Indeed, Pseudo-Albert concluded, "there was nothing of which she was ignorant," whether of action or contemplation, by nature or grace; rather, her knowledge of all things was perfectly complete. 147
e German poet Heinrich von Mu? geln (d. 1369) would concur. In his Der meide kranz ( e Virgin's garland), the seven liberal arts plus Philosophy, Medicine, Alchemy, Metaphysics, and eology meet at the court of Emperor Charles IV (d. 1378) in Prague to debate which among them is to hold the place of honor as a jewel in Mary's crown. As Charles judges the case, eology is nec- essarily the victor, for her truth surpasses that of all of the other arts. Philosophy "speaks of corruption and generation and the rightful operations of Nature," but eology speaks of the one who rules over and nourishes Nature. Grammar "uses words and teaches the parts of speech," but she forgets that Word "which became esh in the maiden and which never separates itself from the divine essence. " Arithmetic counts and measures everything from the sands of the sea to the stars of heaven, but eology describes "how the king allowed himself to receive num- berless wounds for our sake. " Music "lured God into the depths of the heart" so that he "took on humanity from the maiden," but she did not master that tune that was "composed on the cross by the child of the maiden and the Word of God. " Astronomy teaches the movement of the stars and what events will hap- pen in the future: "For that reason," she argues, "I may stand in the crown of the Virgin who spun three persons out of one Word, painlessly; the rays of the sun did not break her glass. " But eology teaches about him "who has embedded the stars into the grail of heaven and who may pull them down again. "148 And so forth. All twelve arts in the end are nevertheless admitted to adorn the Virgin's garland, for each, while itself inadequate to the task of describing her in full, contributes to the understanding and praise of the Virgin, she who gave birth to the Truth surpassing all human arts.
While full of the knowledge of the Creator and his creation, Mary was like- wise, as the angel had put it, "full of grace," a fullness only intensi ed by the fact that "the Lord [was with her]. " All virtues, Pseudo-Albert would contend, were embodied in her--faith, hope, charity, justice, obedience, worship, penitence, prudence, fortitude, perseverance, temperance, chastity, sobriety, modesty-- along with the gi s of the Holy Spirit (Isaiah 11:2-3), the Beatitudes (Matthew 5:3-11), and the fruits of the Spirit (Galatians 5:22-23). 149 She had the graces of healing, working miracles, prophecy, discernment of spirits, tongues, and the interpretation of scriptures (1 Corinthians 12:9-10). And she was an apostle, a prophetess, an evangelist, and a pastor (Ephesians 4:11). 150 She also, of course, had a perfect body, perfect complexion (warm and dry), and perfect health, and,
therefore--Pseudo-Albert reasoned according to contemporary physiologi- cal theory--black eyes and black hair. 151 At her death, she was (as the Church sings) "exalted above all the choirs of the angels," because she possessed all the properties of all the hierarchies of the angels. Likewise, she was "blessed among women" because she possessed "in the highest degree all singular blessings singu- larly, and all universal blessings universally," including the blessings of Adam and Eve, of Abraham on Isaac, of Jacob's blessings on his sons, and Balaam's blessings on Israel. 152 In short, as Albert the Great's fellow Dominican omas Aquinas would put it in his commentary on the angelic salutation, the Virgin "surpasses the angels in her fullness of grace, which is greater in her than in any angel. . . . Grace lled her soul . . . Grace over owed into her body [ tting it for the con- ception of God's Son]. . . . [And] grace over ows from her onto all mankind. "153
Leaving to one side later anxieties about how far one could or should go in praising the Virgin, perhaps we may now begin to appreciate how, from the per- spective of her high and late medieval devotees, even hyperbole might come to seem inadequate. As the thirteenth-century Franciscan Conrad of Saxony put it in his popular meditation on the angel's greeting:
e grace of which [Mary] was full was certainly immense. An immense vessel (vas) cannot be full, unless that is also immense wherewith it is lled. Mary was a vessel beyond measure (vas immensissimum), since she could contain Him who is greater than the Heavens. Who is greater than the Heavens? Without doubt He of whom Solomon says: "If heaven and the heaven of heavens cannot contain thee, how much less this house which I have built? " (3 Kings 8:27). It was not indeed the house which Solomon built, but she who is signi ed by that house, which could contain God (sed domus per illam signi cata Deum capere potuit). You, therefore, O most immeasurable Mary (immensissima Maria), are more capacious than the Heavens, because "he whom the Heavens cannot contain was carried in your womb. "154 You are more capacious than the world, because He whom the whole world cannot contain, "being made man, was enclosed in you. "155 If Mary's womb then had such immensity, how much more had her mind? And if so immense a capacity was full of grace, it was tting that that grace which could ll so great a capacity, should also be immense. Who can measure the immen- sity of Mary? . . . . Mary is a heaven, as much because she abounded in heavenly purity, heavenly light, and other heavenly virtues, as because she was the most high throne of God. . . . Mary was also the earth which brought forth for us that fruit of which the same Prophet says: " e earth has given its fruits" (Psalm 66:7). Mary is also an abyss in goodness and deepest mercy; whence she obtains for us the mercy of her Son, as it were "an abyss calling upon an abyss" (Psalm 41:8). 156
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For Conrad and, indeed, the majority of his contemporaries, it was inconceivable that one might praise Mary "too much," as if it were even possible to praise her, like God to whom she had given birth, enough. Never mind how (although, of course, they were certain that she had been a virgin), Mary had carried in her body the Author of the World. To minimize Mary would be to suggest that one might minimize God.