The Discernment of Spirits: Assessing Visions and Visionaries in the Late Middle Ages (Spatmittelalter, Humanismus, Reformation / Studies in the La) 9783161516641, 9783161586019, 3161516648

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Spätmittelalter, Humanismus, Reformation Studies in the Late Middle Ages, Humanism and the Reformation herausgegeben von Volker Leppin (Tübingen) in Verbindung mit Amy Nelson Burnett (Lincoln, NE), Berndt Hamm (Erlangen) Johannes Helmrath (Berlin), Matthias Pohlig (Münster) Eva Schlotheuber (Düsseldorf)

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Wendy Love Anderson

The Discernment of Spirits Assessing Visions and Visionaries in the Late Middle Ages

Mohr Siebeck

Wendy Love Anderson, born 1975; 1999 M.A. in Religious Studies, 2001 PhD in History of Christianity, University of Chicago; presently Academic Coordinator and Lecturer in the Center for the Humanities at Washington University in St. Louis.

ISBN 978-3-16-151664-1 / eISBN 978-3-16-158601-9 unveränderte eBook-Ausgabe 2019 ISSN 1865-2840 (Spätmittelalter, Humanismus, Reformation) Die Deutsche Nationalbibliothek lists this publication in the Deutsche Nationalbibliographie; detailed bibliographic data are available on the Internet at http://dnb.d-nb.de. © 2011 by Mohr Siebeck Tübingen, Germany. This book may not be reproduced, in whole or in part, in any form (beyond that permitted by copyright law) without the publisher’s written permission. This applies particularly to reproductions, translations, microfilms and storage and processing in electronic systems. The book was printed by Gulde-Druck in Tübingen on non-aging paper and bound by Buchbinderei Spinner in Ottersweier. Printed in Germany.

Introduction A Tale of Two Visions Sometime around 1115, the Virgin Mary appeared in a dream to the twelfth-century Englishwoman Theodora (later Christina) of Markyate (c. 1097–1156), who was seeking to end her unwanted betrothal in order to live a celibate religious life. The Virgin urged Christina not to fear and then promised to help her escape her fiancé, leaving Christina with “immense joy ... [and] a cheerful countenance.” 1 However, when the fifteenthcentury Italian woman Giovanna (later Veronica) Binasco (1445–97) likewise sought to clear her way toward religious life by teaching herself to read, the apparition of the Virgin who appeared to her and urged her not to fear had a very different reception: “Veronica said to her, ‘I will never believe that the Mother of God has come to an unworthy woman such as I, but rather I think that you are the devil, who has put on the appearance of this remarkable woman in order to deceive me.’” 2 These two visionary experiences had a great deal in common: both women sought religious life, both enjoyed the Virgin Mary’s intercession in order to resolve difficulties in the pursuit of their vocation, both enjoyed later visions of the Virgin, and both found their episodes written into a Vita intended to position its protagonist for canonization (although neither woman achieved formal sainthood). The aftermath of the two visions was also similar: in both 1 Vita of Christina of Markyate 24, ed. Paulette L’Hermite-Leclerq and Anne-Marie Legras, Vie de Christina de Markyate (Paris: CNRS Éditions, 2007), 1:108: “Magnitudinem leticie quam conceperat ex spe liberacionis sue vultus propalabat hilaritas.” A good English translation is Charles Talbot, The Life of Christina of Markyate: A TwelfthCentury Recluse, rev. ed. (Toronto: Medieval Academy Reprints for Teaching, 1998). Of course, the Virgin’s admonition not to fear replicates the Angel Gabriel’s advice to Mary herself in Luke 1:30. 2 Isidore Isolano, Inexplicabilis mysterii gesta Beatae Veronicae Virginis praeclarissimi Monasterii Sanctae Marthae urbis Mediolani, reprinted as Vita Veronica de Binasco in Acta Sanctorum Januarii (Antwerp: Société des Bollandistes, 1648), 2:172: “Cui Veronica: Hocce numquam crediderim, quod ipsa vilis femella cum sum, indigna existam ad quam Mater Dei veniat. Arbitror potius te diabolum fore, qui me deceptum veniens hujusce eximiae mulieris speciem induisti.”

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Introduction

cases, the Virgin helped remove obstacles to entry into religious life, appearing to Christina’s fiancé to convince him to annul the betrothal and teaching Veronica three mystical letters to substitute for the ones she could not understand. But the initial reception of these Marian visions was very different. Christina’s delighted acceptance of the Virgin’s message was not complicated by doubt; her hagiographer records that she awoke from the dream to find her pillow wet with tears and immediately concluded that “just as the tears she dreamed she had shed were real, so were the rest of the things she had dreamed.” 3 Veronica, on the other hand, required further assurance from Mary: “Do not doubt, daughter, that I am the mother of Christ; I am indeed she.” 4 Only after Mary’s repeated assurances that she was the true Mother of God did Veronica agree to listen to the remainder of her message. This book addresses the question of what happened in the centuries between the two visions to make their protagonists respond so differently to the helpful Virgin. This is not a book about the details of individual prophecies and visions; rather, it is a book about how these revelations were received and understood by the visionaries themselves and by the people around them between the twelfth and the fifteenth centuries in Christian Europe. Among the world’s religious traditions, Christianity had a unique relationship with the concept of prophecy: like the other Abrahamic faiths, its scriptures included and relied on prophets and prophetic texts, but unlike the other Abrahamic faiths, Christianity provided significant opportunities for contemporary prophecy as well. In both Judaism and Islam, mainstream traditions had identified a point at which prophecy had ceased, so that when revelations and visions appeared throughout Jewish and Muslim history, they were viewed as distinct from any scripturally authorized tradition of prophecy. 5 Over the course of two millennia, Christian thinkers occasionally took a similar position, arguing that proph-

3 Vita of Christina of Markyate 24, in L’Hermite-Leclerq ,76: “sicut verum flere fuit quod sompniasse putabat, ita de reliquorum eventu non ambigeret que per idem somnium viderat.” 4 Isolano, Vita Veronica de Binasco, in AS, 2:172: “Cui mater Dei: Ne ambigas, filia, me matrem Christi esse: ipsa enim ego sum.” 5 Rabbinic Judaism maintained that prophecy ended with the biblical Malachi (as codified in the Babylonian Talmud Yoma 9b), and Islam took the position that Muhammad was the final prophet and “seal of the prophets” (as codified in Qur’an 33:40 and numerous other verses). Judaism did have one major later claimant to prophetic status, the seventeenth-century visionary Nathan of Gaza, who argued that prophecy had returned along with the messiah Shabbatai Tzvi and whose claims ended after Shabbatai’s apostasy.

A Tale of Two Visions

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ecy had died out after the apostolic era. 6 Most of the time, however, a straightforward reading of the New Testament committed Christians to the position that prophecy could continue to exist within the Christian community. 7 Christian visions and revelations were therefore generally treated as part of a continuous spectrum including prophecy, with all its attendant theological implications. Discrediting all revelations was impossible, since it could lead to discrediting the foundations of the Christian tradition. As a result, the emerging institutions of Christianity had to contend since their earliest days with potentially destabilizing claims of new revelations ranging from reiteration to supercession of Christ’s message. From the Montanist sect of the second century C.E. to the Pentecostal movement in the twentieth, Christian individuals and groups have attempted to bypass established institutions and claim religious authority by virtue of some supernatural connection with the divine. As a result, Christian thinkers have devoted considerable effort to authorizing the new revelation of Jesus, working out the implications of the Spirit’s gift of prophecy, and warning about false prophets whose arrival would herald the imminent apocalypse. Who could be a prophet under the terms of Christ’s new covenant? What would such a title signify? How were believers to distinguish between the equally plausible possibilities of true and false prophecy? At some points in the history of Christianity, of course, these issues were of more immediate interest than at others. For Christina of Markyate, at the beginning of the twelfth century, prophecy was not an important contemporary category, and her dream-vision of Mary was merely one of many signs of divine favor. But beginning in the twelfth century, European Christians rediscovered prophecy, and so late medieval Western Europe became a time and place in which prophetic and institutional claims to Christian religious authority clashed repeatedly and generated a discourse about verification to which clergy and laity, men and women, visionaries and hagiographers all contributed. This discourse was gradually routinized and systematized until the mid-fifteenth-century Church inherited both the doubt which plagued Veronica Binasco and the set of doctrines and tech6 For a rare medieval example, cf. Chapter Two’s discussion of Augustinus of Ancona’s 1310 Tractatus contra divinatores et sompniatores. Modern examples are relatively easy to find in the mainline Protestant traditions; cf. the Christianity-centered account of “rhythms of prophecy belief” in chp. 2 of Paul Boyer’s When Time Shall Be No More: Prophecy Belief in Modern American Culture (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 1994). 7 Relevant passages from the New Testament include Acts 2:17–18 (quoting from Joel 2:28–32), which argues that prophecy is a sign of the “last days” which have begun at Pentecost, and Paul’s several assertions that prophecy will continue until Christ’s return (1 Cor. 1:4–8, 1 Cor. 13:8–10, Eph. 4:7–13).

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niques for distinguishing between true and false revelations which her avowals of humility were intended to demonstrate. Late medieval Christians kept the connection to biblical prophecy when they referred to these doctrines and techniques either as “testing spirits” (1 John 4:1), evoking a warning against false prophecy, or as “discernment of spirits” (1 Cor. 12:10), that is, the spiritual gift of interpretation which Paul had juxtaposed with prophecy.

The Visionary Context of Discernment The earliest historiography on the late medieval development of doctrines and techniques for the discernment of spirits assumed that medieval thinkers were merely recording a static doctrine handed down from the Church Fathers. Until the end of the twentieth century, the topic was usually addressed in the context of Christian (usually Roman Catholic) theology, often as part of a sweeping historical survey which tended to privilege famous figures (e.g., Aquinas) over minor but more influential authors (e.g., Gerson) and to harmonize patristic, medieval, and modern doctrine at all costs. These surveys also ignored sources outside the genres of either scriptural commentary or scholastic treatise; this produced a significant bias in favor of the early modern period, when scholastic treatises on the discernment of spirits were relatively common. 8 Contemporary theological treatments of the “discernment of spirits” often continue this trend, leaving the impression that the Middle Ages was devoted largely to waiting for Ignatius Loyola to burst onto the discernment scene. 9 As a recent study notes, “one tendency reflected in the popular historical surveys of discernment is to speak of a ‘discernment tradition’ or a lineage of ‘discernment literature’ which communicates a similar voice extending from the Patristic Fathers up to and through Ignatius.” 10 The few works 8 See, for instance, F. Vandenbroucke, “Discernement des esprits: au Moyen Age,” in DS 3: 1254–66; A. Cholet, “Discernement des esprits,” Dictionnaire de Théologie Catholique (Paris: Letouzey et Ané, 1911), 4:1412–15; and Günter Switek, “Discretio spirituum: Ein Beitrag zur Geschichte der Spiritualität,” Theologie und Philosophie 47 (1972): 36–76. 9 One of the most recent and detailed historico-theological surveys of the discernment of spirits – although it deals only with Bernard, Aquinas, Catherine, Gerson, and Denis the Carthusian in the medieval period – is Manuel Ruiz Jurado’s El discernimiento espiritual: teología, historia, práctica (Madrid: Biblioteca de Autores Cristianos, 1994). 10 Evan Howard, Affirming the Touch of God: A Psychological and Philosophical Exploration of Christian Discernment (Lanham, MD: University Press of America, 2000), 18. Howard’s own historical overview simply begins with Ignatius.

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devoted specifically to late medieval discernment reflected the same tendency: Paschal Boland’s 1959 study of discretio spirituum in Gerson made no claim to address Gerson’s work in any kind of historical context but instead tried “to indicate that the norms, rules, and observations proposed and taught by Gerson… vary little from that of later writers.” 11 Beginning in the 1990s, a surge of interest in the writings of medieval visionary women encouraged scholars of history and literature to reassess the discernment of spirits in terms of late medieval women’s spirituality. Rosalynn Voaden defined the discernment of spirits primarily as a “discourse developed and defined by men” 12 and argued, replicating decades of theological scholarship, that “the essential points of the doctrine [of discretio spirituum] have varied little from Augustine to the present day.” 13 Women are therefore denied any participation in the creation or transformation of this static (and inevitably misogynist) discourse; instead, “a medieval woman who wanted recognition as a visionary… had to be able to translate her experience into the masculine discourse.” 14 A more nuanced but similarly gendered treatment of the topic appears in Nancy Caciola’s otherwise astute 2003 exploration of late medieval debates over lay female sanctity. Caciola rejects the narrative in which visionary laywomen are controlled by male clerical authorities wielding guidelines for discernment but argues that “the medieval debate over the testing of spirits focused with particular intensity on women,” 15 a conclusion she demonstrates by confining her exploration of exorcisms, canonization controversies, and a handful of fourteenth-century scholastic treatises on discernment to those cases or passages which address women. She argues that similar male cases are fundamentally different: “when religious men became targets of controversy, the debate about them usually was encoded in different terms.” 16 Dyan Elliott’s 2004 work connecting the fourteenthcentury “rise of the discourse of spiritual discernment” to “clerical apprehension [about]… highly visible contemporary prophets and visionaries” 11 Paschal Boland, The Concept of Discretio Spirituum in John Gerson’s “De Probatione Spirituum” and “De Distinctione Verarum Visionum A Falsis” (Washington, DC: Catholic University of America Press, 1959), x. (For more on the historiography of discernment vis-à-vis Gerson, cf. the discussion in Chapter Five.) 12 Rosalynn Voaden, God’s Words, Women’s Voices: The Discernment of Spirits in the Writing of Late-Medieval Woman Visionaries (York: York Medieval Press, 1999), 45. 13 Voaden, “Women’s Words, Men’s Language: Discretio Spirituum as Discourse in the Writing of Medieval Women Visionaries,” in The Medieval Translator, eds. R. Ellis and R. Tixier (Louvain: Brepols, 1996), 67. 14 Voaden, God’s Words, 55. 15 Nancy Caciola, Discerning Spirits: Divine and Demonic Possession in the Middle Ages (Ithaca: Cornell University Press, 2003), 16. 16 Ibid., 17.

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makes excellent points about the connection between the discernment of spirits and inquisitorial culture, but it also addresses the topic purely in terms of how that connection affected female spirituality in the late Middle Ages, noting its applicability to men only in passing. 17 At this point, it has become commonplace for scholars writing about late medieval visionary women to cite “discernment” as an example of how female visionaries were marginalized by a repressive Church. Recent works on Joan of Arc and Birgitta of Sweden address discretio spirituum as a factor – largely negative – in each woman’s reception. 18 At the same time, references to discretio spirituum has focused on the late fourteenth and early fifteenth centuries (when the first scholastic treatises clearly aimed at the “discernment of spirits” were written) as the beginning of serious medieval discussion on the topic. Voaden’s medieval citations come exclusively from the late fourteenth and early fifteenth centuries; Caciola begins her discussion of “clerical” discernment with the late fourteenth-century trio of Henry of Langenstein, Pierre d’Ailly, and Jean Gerson; Elliott expands the trio to include another scholastic author, Henry of Friemar, two generations earlier. An otherwise excellent recent study of demoniacs and mystics in early modern Catholicism argues that Henry of Langenstein wrote “the first systematic attempt to develop a simple method for the discernment of possessing spirits” in the late fourteenth century. 19 This narrow time frame has the effect of reinforcing the preoccupation with gender in the existing scholarship, since it is precisely in the late fourteenth and early fifteenth centuries that the discourse on discretio spirituum becomes gendered. Earlier visionary controversies which do not revolve around gender are dismissed. For instance, Caciola mentions the Spiritual Franciscan controversies of the thirteenth and fourteenth centuries briefly as an example of the differences between how Dyan Elliott, Proving Woman: Female Spirituality and Inquisitional Culture in the Later Middle Ages (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 2004), 5. 18 Karen Sullivan, The Interrogation of Joan of Arc (Minneapolis: University of Minnesota Press, 1999) and Deborah Fraioli, Joan of Arc: The Early Debate (Woodbridge: Boydell Press, 2000), both have two-to-three-page sections devoted to defining discretio spirituum and then proceed to invoke the concept throughout their studies. Claire L. Sahlin, Birgitta of Sweden and the Voice of Prophecy (Rochester, NY: The Boydell Press, 2001), does an excellent job of examining key passages in Birgitta’s Reuelaciones but does not credit Birgitta with being other than reactive with respect to “late-medieval criteria for the discernment of spirits” (117). 19 Moshe Sluhovsky, Believe Not Every Spirit: Possession, Mysticism, and Discernment in Early Modern Catholicism (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 2007), 173. In Chapter Five, I argue that Henry of Friemar was neither simple nor methodical; in earlier chapters, I make my case for why he was not first. 17

The Visionary Context of Discernment

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men and women were treated, but not as a discussion of “discernment of spirits,” since she is applying the latter concept only to women. 20 In the following study, I will argue for continuity between thirteenthcentury debates over visionary Franciscan clerics and fifteenth-century debates over visionary lay women. More generally, I will argue for a visionary discourse about the discernment of spirits throughout the late Middle Ages, that is, not only a forward-looking discourse but a discourse in which many of the participants either experienced revelations and other special spiritual gifts or were reputed by contemporaries to have done so. Academically trained theologians who wrote about the discernment of spirits also wrote about “mystical” theology; authors of saints’ lives described their own visions of the prospective saints; preachers and confessors alluded to their own spiritual consolations while offering guidance to visionaries they encountered on a daily basis. Some female visionaries – Birgitta of Sweden prominent among them – could and did contribute to this discourse, which remained relatively egalitarian until the fifteenth century. In other words, there was no absolute distinction between the “visionary” and the “examiner” until the very end of the period in question. What preoccupied these men and women was not gender, but authority: they sought to define, regulate, or justify their own or their companions’ religiously based claims to influence the direction of late medieval Christendom. Their efforts turned to writing about the discernment of spirits at precisely those historical moments when the Church’s authority structures were being called into question (as, indeed, they frequently were during this period). And the precise details of those historical moments had considerable and demonstrable impact on the texts that grew out of them. It is for just that reason that I have also focused on examining writings about the discernment of spirits within their historical contexts, a practice which throws the idiosyncratic details of each text into the sharpest possible relief and avoids the temptation of lumping too many disparate formulations into a vaguely understood “discourse.” There are many things that this book does not do: most important, it does not presume to define the reality (much less the ultimate inspiration) of any individual’s religious or spiritual experience, and it does not address the legal and quasi-legal events such as exorcisms and trials which bear a significant but tangential relationship to the theological discourse under consideration. (The studies of Caciola and Elliott, mentioned above, have done a great deal to illuminate just these sorts of events.) Despite revision, my work bears some of the hallmarks of the dissertation in which it originated and which was cited by many of the “recent” works I have 20

Caciola, Discerning Spirits, 18.

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Introduction

mentioned above. But I have chosen to revise and publish this study because the current consensus that the late medieval conversation about the discernment of spirits was important in defining and limiting expressions of female spirituality simply does not give that conversation enough credit. The late medieval discourse on the discernment of spirits was a visionary project (in both senses), a series of reactions to key events in the history of Christianity, and a dynamic conversation across several centuries addressing widely diverse claims to religious authority within late medieval Christendom. To reduce it to a static doctrine or limit it to discussions of exclusively female spirituality is to miss a great deal.

Notes on Methodology and Language As I have already suggested, my investigation will view the late medieval discernment of spirits primarily in terms of religious authority rather than gender studies or doctrinal continuity. The sociologist Max Weber, perhaps the first modern theorist of religious authority, tried to distinguish the overlapping sources of authority wielded by magicians, prophets, and priests, arguing that prophets were authorized via “charismatic authentication, which in practice meant magic,” despite their focus on doctrine. 21 The priest, on the other hand, “lays claim to authority by virtue of his service in a sacred tradition, while the prophet’s claim is based on personal revelation and charisma.” 22 However, Weber himself was more interested in tracing religion along an evolutionary track: A religious community arises in connection with a prophetic movement as a result of routinization (Veralltäglichung), i.e., as a result of the process whereby either the prophet himself or his followers secure the permanence of his preaching and the congregation’s distribution of grace, hence insuring the economic existence of the enterprise and those who man it, and thereby monopolizing as well the privileges reserved for those charged with religious functions. 23

According to Weber, once routinized, the “decline or petrification of prophecy is practically unavoidable.” 24 Conflict between forces is minimized in this evolutionary model; priest and prophet seldom encounter one another, since they belong to different stages of religious life. This model is quite unlike the realities of late medieval Europe. Max Weber, The Sociology of Religion, trans. E. Fischoff (Boston: Beacon Press, 1964), 47. 22 Ibid., 46. 23 Ibid., 60–1. 24 Ibid., 78. 21

Notes on Methodology and Language

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To some extent, I am influenced by Michel Foucault, insofar as I can conceive of discretio spirituum as a “discourse” and insofar as I suspect that the rules which evolved around the process of discerning spirits came to (at least partially) constitute the experiences they were intended to regulate. 25 However, the process of discerning spirits I am studying tended to involve negotiation among a number of potential sources for authority, and so it involves an institution where several types of Weberian “prophets” and “priests” function simultaneously and sometimes complementarily. In late medieval Catholic Christianity, those who wrote about visions and revelations – regardless of whether they themselves were identified as the visionaries in question – could select from a plethora of potentially authorizing agents: they could cite confessorial or communal approval, demonstrated virtue, episcopal blessings, scriptural prooftexts, the lives of the saints, miracles, fulfilled predictions, patristic writings, gender (in several different ways), theologians’ determinations, papal decrees, canon law, and (last but not least) the charismatic verdict of the Holy Spirit. In theory, all these sources would yield the same answer as to the origin of a given experience. In practice, however, they often differed. It is precisely this sort of multiplicity that the static and/or misogynist model of discretio spirituum fails to take into consideration. In order to suggest ways of dealing with this complex, I will be using ideas derived from the French historian and theorist Michel de Certeau. In partial opposition to the single panoptic institution envisioned by Foucault, de Certeau posits a multitude of “strategies” and “tactics” through which authorities can be interrelated, prioritized, or balanced within and around a given institutional framework. As for many thinkers associated with poststructuralist and/or postmodern thought, the very creation of language for de Certeau implies relations of power and hence of authority: “Once it is spoken – once it can be breathed and felt – a language implies points of reference, sources, a history, an iconography, in short, a construction of ‘authorities.’… Inherited representations inaugurate a new credibility at the same time that they express it.” 26 However, these authorities can from 25 On the term “discourse,” I am thinking of the first part of Foucault’s Archaeology of Knowledge, trans. A.M. Sheridan (New York: Pantheon, 1972), 28: “The analysis of the discursive field …must grasp the statement in the exact specificity of its occurrence; determine its conditions of existence, fix at least its limits, establish its correlations with other statements that may be connected with it, and show what other forms of statement it excludes. … The question proper to such an analysis might be formulated in this way: what is this specific existence that emerges from what is said and nowhere else?” 26 Michel de Certeau, Culture in the Plural, trans. Luce Giard (Minneapolis: University of Minnesota Press, 1997), 11. I am ignoring de Certeau’s distinction between “strategies” and “tactics” in part because I find it difficult to sustain outside the strictly

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the very beginning be multiplied. In an early article, de Certeau identifies two types of signs of authority in a society: “discourses (works and texts) or persons (who are also representatives).” 27 Of course, the categorization of authorities, along with other types of categorization, “implies, by definition, a relationship of force and domination.” 28 In order to talk about any given authority, whether personal or textual, one must view it as “a theoretical interpretation … tied to the power of a group and to the structure of the society in which it conquered this position.” 29 Power reproduces itself through any type of authoritative knowledge. 30 But authorities can provide insight into the dominated as well as the dominant groups in this societal structure: “an authority serves as a frame of reference to the very group that breaks away from it or that it rejects.” 31 What we have, then, is a complex social structure in which each of several authorities provides more or less force in order to actualize a whole spectrum of power relationships. The most useful thing about this formulation is the plurality which it assumes: “Both appropriations and displacements depend on a dynamic distribution of possible goods and functions in order to constitute an increasingly complex network of differentiations, a combinative system of spaces.” 32 “Appropriations and displacements” are central in the discourse on discernment of spirits. De Certeau himself was fascinated by the troubled “mystics” of the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries and how they interacted with the “examiners” who bedeviled them, often with fully formulated guidelines for discretio spirituum in hand. 33 Although he is more interested in the mystics than in their examiners, de Certeau does suggest the extent to which institutional authority ultimately becomes a key factor in the mystic discourse: “The institution itself is the other in relation to political realm and in part because it does not seem to apply to the texts I am focusing on, all of which combine localized strategies with dislocated tactics. 27 Ibid., 12. 28 Ibid., 77. 29 Ibid., 87. 30 Cf. de Certeau, The Practice of Everyday Life, trans. Steven Rendall (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1984), 36: “a certain power is the precondition of this knowledge and not merely its effect or its attribute. It makes this knowledge possible and at the same time determines its characteristics. It produces itself in and through this knowledge.” 31 De Certeau, The Mystic Fable: The Sixteenth and Seventeenth Centuries, trans. Michael B. Smith (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1992), 19. 32 Ibid., 127. 33 These “examiners” are mentioned throughout The Mystic Fable; cf. also 81ff. of Heterologies: Discourse on the Other, trans. Brian Massumi (Minneapolis: University of Minnesota Press, 1986).

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[the mystics’] delirium, and that is why the institution is relevant for them. … It is a question of determining whether, in refusing to replace the institution with a delusion, the mystic is not actually in the position of aligning himself with it, and by conforming to it in this way, of eliminating the other and returning to the same.” 34 While individual texts “always define themselves as being entirely a product of inspiration,” they are nevertheless implicated in many forms of religious authority: “beside the authorized institution, but outside it and in what authorizes that institution, i.e., the Word of God.” 35 Although de Certeau might well resist this development of his thought, I wish to suggest that both mystics and examiners draw on and negotiate some of the same sets of authorities – and not solely in cases where mystics and examiners were identical! At no point in the late Middle Ages does anyone advance a single guideline for distinguishing between true and false revelations; there are always multiple guidelines, and at many points the very possibility of a single definitive rule is explicitly denied. This persistent multiplication of authorities is precisely what I find fascinating about the discernment of spirits, and I hope to make that multiplicity evident in my account. In summary, my treatment suggests that the late medieval discourse on the discernment of spirits involves a struggle for symbolic power, often framed in linguistic terms. It is a process of appropriation and displacement, of negotiation among multiple authorities. It bears striking parallels to the form of discourse de Certeau defines as “mystic,” perhaps because mysticism is precisely the form of discourse it seeks to define and delimit. Unsurprisingly, then, the discourse on discernment of spirits also – following de Certeau – bears a suspicious resemblance to the project of the historian, who must weigh and assess multiple sources in order to construct a single authoritative narrative. De Certeau notes that “the territory that [the historian] occupies is acquired through a diagnosis of the false.” 36 Both “examiner” and historian work within received ideologies even as they critique them. As de Certeau suggests in an essay on a closely related phenomenon, demonic possession, “it involves the possibility of acceding to the speech of the other, which is effectively the problem facing historians: what can we apprehend from the discourse of an absent being? How can we interpret documents bound to an insurmountable death, that is to say, to another period of time, and to an ‘ineffable’ experience always

De Certeau, Mystic Fable, 45–6. De Certeau, Heterologies, 92–3. 36 Ibid., 200. 34 35

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Introduction

approached from an outside evaluation?” 37 De Certeau ultimately advocates a return to the text: “It is best to limit oneself to the consideration of what goes on in texts whose status is labeled ‘mystic,’ instead of wielding a ready-made definition (whether ideological or imaginary) of what it is that was inscribed in those texts by an operation of writing.” 38 Of course, the term “mystic” is itself difficult for someone writing about the late Middle Ages. Bernard McGinn has emphasized that “there can be no direct access to experience for the historian. …[M]ysticism needs to be understood contextually, and … the mystical text and its place in the tradition – not mystical experience (whatever it may be ) – are the primary objects of study.” 39 In this book, I am wary of using the terms “mystic” or “mysticism” as a central focus because they may involve a theological (and hence normative) judgment which I do not feel qualified to make, and also because they are products of a later time period than the one on which I am focusing. The medieval authors I will examine prefer to use the categories of visionary/vision and prophet/revelation, categories which they often view as interchangeable for the purpose of discerning spirits and which they occasionally blur or elide in an effort to present certain experiences in a more positive light (e.g., the important distinction between claiming “prophecy” and “prophetic inspiration”). However, the adjective “mystical” (especially in the context of “theology”) does have a place in late medieval Christian thought, and it does crop up in my narrative from time to time. As for mystical texts, all of the writings on the discernment of spirits presuppose the possibility of supernatural encounter with the divine, and almost all of them agree that such an encounter is possible even today. However, I wish to investigate not what a given encounter might have been, but how it could have been understood, interpreted, and constituted within the world of late medieval Christian spirituality. A few other linguistic disclaimers must be offered at the outset. I have tried to use gender-inclusive or non-gender-specific language in my own analysis where possible, but my translations of medieval texts strive to be mostly literal. Medieval Latin and the assorted vernaculars of the late Middle Ages are gendered languages in which masculine pronouns usually allow for the possibility of mixed-gender referents while underlining the priority of male agents, so I have generally chosen to translate references to homines (or, for example, Middle High German menschen used to De Certeau, “Discourse Disturbed: The Sorcerer’s Speech,” in The Writing of History, trans. Tom Conley (New York: Columbia University Press, 1988), 244. 38 De Certeau, Heterologies, 82; cf. also Mystic Fable, 15. 39 Bernard McGinn, The Foundations of Mysticism: Origins to the Fifth Century (New York: Crossroad, 1995), xiv-xv. 37

Plan of the Book

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address mixed audiences) as “men,” while supplying as much context as possible to help my readers understand whether a given author might conceivably have envisioned a mixed-gender audience for his or her work. Throughout the work, I have also provided the original language in the footnotes so that those who are conversant with it can draw their own conclusions. On the other hand, I have not standardized the linguistic choices involved in rendering the proper names of medieval figures: in an effort to maximize readability while adhering to a variety of scholarly conventions, I have referred to Augustine of Hippo and Augustinus of Ancona; Peter Olivi, Pedro of Aragon, and Pierre d’Ailly; John Cassian, Johannes Tauler, Jan van Ruusbroec, and Jean Gerson. This mélange of naming conventions does at least reflect the transnational and multilinguistic nature of the late medieval discourse on the discernment of spirits!

Plan of the Book In the first chapter of this book, I explore the biblical and patristic origins of the “discernment of spirits” and outline the twelfth-century “rediscovery of prophecy” which brought the concept back into contemporary discourse. Prophecy was a constant part of Israelite, Second Temple, and early Christian religion; the problem of false prophecy was therefore also a constant concern, as witnessed by references in the Hebrew Bible, the New Testament, and even the early Christian Didache. Of course, the phrase “discernment of spirits” itself comes from Paul’s first letter to the Corinthians, where it follows prophecy in a list of the Holy Spirit’s gifts. Drawing on language from the early Christian theologian Origen of Alexandria, Athanasius’ third-century Life of Antony described its monastic protagonist distinguishing between angelic and demonic visitations through just such a spiritual gift. Augustine of Hippo described his mother Monica as having a similar gift, but elsewhere described the discernment of spirits as the charism whereby a biblical prophet might distinguish between spiritual visions of divine or diabolic origin. Augustine even outlined a tripartite theory of prophetic vision. Meanwhile, Augustine’s contemporary Ambrosiaster insisted that discretio spirituum was a charism bestowed on the church hierarchy ex officio, and John Cassian summarized a tradition growing out of the Desert Fathers when he described discretio as a communally conditioned virtue central to monastic life. Gregory the Great drew on both the Desert Fathers and Augustine in order to link personal holiness with an ineffable ability to distinguish between revelatory and illusory dreams. Medieval thinkers inherited these divergent traditions from their patristic predecessors, but they devoted relatively little attention

14

Introduction

to the topic until several factors converged in the twelfth century: the rise of a new prophetic tradition in which innovative scriptural interpretations were defended through appeals to revelation, the beginnings of a predominantly vernacular visionary “new mysticism,” and the attempted consolidation of religious authority (through sacramental power in particular) within the ordained clergy. In Chapter Two, I describe how discretio spirituum began to interest Catholic thinkers again in the thirteenth century, at first as a way of reining in the excesses of self-appointed prophets and visionaries and then as a way of reacting to the fragmentation of the Franciscan Order. The canon law tradition beginning with Innocent III’s 1199 letter Cum ex iniuncto bred distrust of self-proclaimed prophets and required either miraculous or scriptural support for their missions, but it did not curtail discussion of the discernment of spirits in theological circles. Thanks to the Franciscan predilection for Joachite exegesis and the order’s upheaval during its century-long poverty debate, the Friars Minor exhibited particular interest in the issue of discretio spirituum throughout the thirteenth century, with authors on both sides of the Joachite conflict (ranging from David of Augsburg to Peter of John Olivi) using the concept to bolster their positions vis-à-vis the authority of visionary experiences. Olivi’s own use of others’ visions to help explain difficult passages of Scripture bred further controversy, as did the political and religious influence of more openly prophetic figures such as Arnald of Villanova who sympathized with Olivi and his Beguin supporters. Opponents weighed in using the same language, including William of Saint-Amour’s efforts to recast the mendicant orders as false prophets and Augustinus of Ancona’s denial of the very possibility of contemporary prophetic gifts. By and large, however, Franciscan thinkers – along with their allies and opponents – retreated from the subject as Christendom took on new challenges in the fourteenth century. In Chapter Three, I note that as the Church became increasingly fearful of supposed “Free Spirits,” self-proclaimed orthodox writers leapt into action in an effort to reclaim discretio spirituum for their own parties and connect it to the ability or lack of ability to distinguish between the workings of nature and grace on the intellect. This development was foreshadowed by the work of the Augustinian master Henry of Friemar, Augustinus of Ancona’s contemporary, who attended the 1311 Council of Vienne, where the “heresy of the Free Spirit” was first defined. However, the combination of mystical and prophetic controversies flowered in Germanic vernacular literature, where “discernment” and “distinction” were translated by the same word. In the wake of Meister Eckhart’s condemnation, his disciples Henry Suso and Johannes Tauler wrote extensively about the signs by which truly spiritual people could be distinguished from false

Plan of the Book

15

mystics by someone who possessed the gift of discernment. Other spiritual authors were influenced by both Eckhart and Tauler: the renowned contemplative Jan van Ruusbroec and the relatively obscure author of the Buch von Geistlicher Armuth both developed theories of spiritual development in which discernment played a major role. All these authors agreed on the difficulty of distinguishing orthodox devotion from the pernicious, heretical antinomianism of the Free Spirits; the concept of discernment of spirits offered one potential way of making such a distinction. In some cases, powers of discernment could even compensate for a lack of ecclesiastical standing. Certainly, the choice of vernacular languages instead of Latin for spreading these sorts of ideas ensured that they could potentially reach a female and/or lay audience. In Chapters Four and Five, I explore the ways in which the Great Western Schism (1378–1417) precipitated a new crisis for prophetic as well as ecclesiastical authority. Contemporaries seem to have simultaneously admired recent prophets whose predictions had been validated by the Schism and kept an eye out for the false prophets forecast for the oncoming apocalypse. Chapter Four describes how visionaries such as Birgitta of Sweden and Catherine of Siena had begun to use the language of discernment and even discretio spirituum in order to authorize their missions of reform in the years leading up to the Schism, suggesting that the grace of discernment stemmed from a close experiential relationship with Christ. When visionary demands that the Pope return to Rome, seemed to precipitate the Schism, the examiners, confessors, and hagiographers of Birgitta, Catherine, and their fellow visionary Pedro of Aragon turned to increasingly technical (and in some cases gender-specific) defenses of their divinely inspired prophecies. Chapter Five addresses the extent to which the Schism also fostered the expansion of universities and of the prerogatives of university-trained theologians, so that by the end of the fourteenth century, treatises modeled after scholastic quaestiones and written by reformers were offering increasingly specific scholastic guidelines for discernment of spirits and the detection of false prophecy by theologians. Pierre d’Ailly wrote two treatises addressing the endemic problem of false prophecy, and Henry of Langenstein authored the first treatise entitled De discretione spirituum, but both agreed that a systematic doctrine of discernment was impossible.. Both men also assumed that some post-apostolic prophecies (especially those of Hildegard von Bingen) had immediate bearing on the situation of the Schism, so their concern was to distinguish useful prophecies and revelations from their false and useless counterparts. In Chapter Six, I focus on Jean Gerson, chancellor of the University of Paris at the beginning of the fifteenth century and a student of both Langenstein and d’Ailly, who wrote three major and several minor works

16

Introduction

concerned explicitly with the discernment of spirits in what amounted to a reform-minded synthesis of previous traditions. Of course, these traditions did not always fit together smoothly, and so Gerson sought to resolve some of these contradictions with a scripturally-based appeal to the Holy Spirit: he argued that spiritual experience was the best preparation for even a theologically trained examiner, and he finally concluded that absolute certainty about the origin of a given revelation could be granted only through an encounter with the divine (but not, of course, the same encounter that produced the revelation in the first place). At the same time, Gerson worked to tie the discernment of spirits into plans for the reform of the university, the institutional Church, and Christendom as a whole. Although Gerson and his contemporaries succeeded in ending the Schism, Gerson’s ambitious program for the discernment of spirits did not meet with equal success: later writers cited him as an authority but simplified his approach, moving towards a hierarchical and judicial emphasis on examination of the potential visionary and ignoring Gerson’s inconvenient insistence on the primacy of spiritual experience. My study demonstrates that the discourse on discernment of spirits must be understood not as a static discourse or a unified doctrine but as an evolving and often self-contradictory series of visionary responses to specific moments of crisis or contested authority in the history of the late medieval Church. This account tracks such responses for a little over two hundred years, pinpointing various traditions and new ideas which entered the mix as sources of religious authority shifted and changed during a tumultuous era in European history. At the end of this period, marked by the completion of Gerson’s extensive and widely distributed discernment treatises, there was synthesis and systematization but no solution to the intractable problem of how to tell true from false prophecy. Indeed, the complexity and internal contradictions of the late medieval discourse on discernment of spirits virtually assured that there could be no solution. The problem of discretio spirituum was to be taken up again in the following centuries, preoccupying individuals on both sides of the Reformation and opening up into a larger-scale questioning of authority and of the very concept of certainty. My hope is that this study of the late medieval discourse on discernment of spirits will be of significance not only to the history of medieval spirituality and culture, but also to scholars who study the Reformation and to all interested in the relation of prophecy to religious institutions. While prophecy is not as a rule a spiritual gift allotted to historians, I feel safe in predicting that the twenty-first century will continue to produce, interpret, and assess visions and revelations.

Chapter One

Prophecy and Discernment in Early Christianity Prophecy, Politics, and Punishment in Scripture Although biblical prophecy is sometimes described in lofty spiritual terms, the tradition of false prophecy in the Hebrew Bible always appears in a historical and political context. The book of Deuteronomy, which seems to have been either written or recovered during the religious reforms of Israel’s King Josiah (c. 622 B.C.E.), remains the only book of the Torah or Pentateuch to discuss the problem of dubiously divine inspiration in any detail. What is clearly a coherent discussion of prophetic authority (following similar explanations of judicial, then royal, then priestly authority) begins at Deut. 18:9 with Moses’ injunction against imitating “the abhorrent practices of those nations” in the land of Canaan. Apparently, the “nations” depend on augury, sorcery, necromancy, divination, and immolation of children for divine advice. In contrast, the God of Israel “will raise up for you a prophet from among your own people … him you shall heed” (Deut. 18:15). However, this authority must not be abused: But any prophet who presumes to speak in my name an oracle that I did not command him to utter, or who speaks in the name of other gods – that prophet shall die. And should you ask yourselves, “How can we know that the oracle was not spoken by the Lord?” – If the prophet speaks in the name of the Lord and the oracle does not come true, that oracle was not spoken by the Lord; the prophet has uttered it presumptuously; do not stand in dread of him (Deut. 18:20–22). 1

A parallel but briefer discussion in Deuteronomy 13 adds a corollary: if a prophet urges the worship of another god, even if the prophet’s signs and portents come true, “do not heed the words of that prophet or that dreamdiviner. For the Lord your God is testing you…. as for that prophet or dream-diviner, he shall be put to death” (Deut. 13:2–6). All citations of the Hebrew Bible are taken from the 1995 Jewish Publication Society translation. On the dating of Deuteronomy to Josiah’s reform, cf. Moshe Weinfeld, Deuteronomy 1–11 introduction, in The Anchor Bible Dictionary 5, general eds. W.F. Albright and D.N. Freedman (London: Doubleday, 1991), esp. 81–4. (Weinfeld points out that Deuteronomy in its current form is probably a version of part of Josiah’s book. The Hebrew Bible accounts of this “discovery” are 2 Kings 22:8–10 and 2 Chron. 34:14.) 1

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Even at this early stage, however, capital punishment for false prophecy seems to have worked better in theory than in practice. On the rare occasions when false prophecy appears in the Hebrew Bible, it is inevitably linked with official corruption and imminent divine (not human) retribution. As Ezekiel lists the sins which have caused God to turn away from Israel, he laments the injustice of officials and notes that Israel’s “prophets, too… prophesy falsely and divine deceitfully for them [officials]; they say, ‘Thus saith the Lord God,’ when the Lord has not spoken” (Ezek. 22:28). The prophet Jeremiah complains repeatedly of false prophets and prophets who deal falsely, but what seems to bother him the most is the total complacency of the Israelites: “The prophets prophesy falsely, and the priests rule accordingly, and my people like it so. But what will you do at the end of it?” (Jer. 5:31). God, Jeremiah asserts, will punish these false prophets along with their auditors: “they prophesy falsely in my name, with the result that I will drive you out and you shall perish, together with the prophets who prophesy to you” (Jer. 27:15). 2 Likewise, Ezekiel’s God warns that false prophets will be destroyed, both men and women “who prophesy out of their own imagination” (Ezek. 13:2). 3 The handful of references to false prophecy in the Hebrew Bible leaves it indelibly associated with oncoming catastrophe and divine rather than secular punishment, and the fate of the Jewish people is expected to bear out these threats. Prophecy proper, however, remains God’s gift to the Israelite people; it might be expected to return to them at some later eschatological moment, as witnessed by God’s famous promise to “pour out my spirit on all flesh; your sons and your daughters shall prophesy” (Joel 2:28). 4 Many of the New Testament references to false prophecy are made in the same tenor as those in the Hebrew Bible: the “Little Apocalypse” in the synoptics (Mark 13, Matthew 24, and Luke 21) forecasts false prophets and false Messiahs along with famine, war, and earthquakes. Similarly, a false prophet accompanies a beast and a deceiving devil in John’s Revela2 Note the similar passage in Lam. 2:14: “your seers prophesied to you delusion and folly. They did not expose your iniquity so as to restore your fortunes, but prophesied to you oracles of delusion and deception.” 3 The same phrase is repeated again in Ezek. 13:17, referring to male and female prophets respectively. (Elsewhere in the Hebrew Bible, God’s enforcement record on false prophecy is mixed, dealing death to the false prophet Hananiah in Jeremiah 28 but ignoring the prophet who lies to another prophet in 1 Kings 13:18.) 4 An excellent overview of recent scholarship on prophecy in the Hebrew Bible and Second Temple era can be found in the collections of David Orton, Prophecy in the Hebrew Bible: Selected Studies from Vetus Testamentum (Leiden: Brill, 1999), and Michael Floyd and Robert Haak, Prophets, Prophecy, and Prophetic Texts in Second Temple Judaism (New York: T&T Clark International, 2006).

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tion, and “deceitful spirits” are linked with the last times in 1 Tim. 4:1. 5 Other passages, however, come closer to Deuteronomy in their implication that false prophets are simply an inevitable problem of everyday living. 2 Peter 2:1 notes the historical pattern of false prophets, promising more of the same for the nascent Christian community, while Acts 13:6 mentions Paul’s confrontation with “a Jewish magician and false prophet called BarJesus.” 6 There is an idolatrous, fornicating, self-proclaimed prophetess identified as “Jezebel” in the church of Thyatira (Rev. 2:20). 2 Cor. 11:14 warns against angels of Satan who appear disguised (routinely, it seems) “as angels of light.” The most famous of these passages, however, and the one which most closely echoes the Deuteronomistic warnings, is Matt. 7:15–6: “Beware of false prophets who come to you disguised as sheep but underneath are ravenous wolves. You will be able to tell them by their fruits.” Fruits or καρπων in Greek (translated fructibus in Latin) would probably have referred to outcomes or results, suggesting that this advice refers back to the accuracy of the prophet’s predictive message. 7 The Johannine corpus also acknowledged the inevitability of false prophecy: “Beloved, not every spirit is to be trusted, but test the spirits to see whether they are from God, for many false prophets are at large in the world” (1 John 4:1). Here, again, there is some effort at offering guidelines, but also a hint of eschatology: “Any spirit which acknowledges Jesus Christ, come in human nature, is from God, and no spirit which fails to acknowledge Jesus is from God; it is the spirit of Antichrist, whose coming you have heard of; he is already at large in the world” (1 John 4:2–3). Given the early Christian emphasis on the imminent kingdom of heaven and the end of days, the distinction between contemporary false prophecy and false prophecy as a sign of the eschaton was bound to blur a little. The matter was complicated by the fact that prophecy was apparently a central element in the earliest Christian communities and was based on a combination of Jewish and Greco-Roman traditions. 8 Joel’s prediction was said to have been fulfilled in Acts 2, the account of “Pentecost” in which Cf. Rev. 2:20, 16:13, 19:20, and 20:10. All New Testament quotations in translation comes from the New Jerusalem Bible unless otherwise specified. All Greek passages come from the Nestle-Aland Novum Testamentum Graece, 27th ed. 7 A more detailed consideration of this pericope (and its partial analogue in Luke 6:43–6) exists in Michael Kramer’s “Hütet euch vor den falschen Propheten: eine überlieferungsgeschichtliche Untersuchung zu Mt 7:15–23 / Lk 6:43–46 / Mt 12:33–37,” Biblia 57:3 (1976): 349–77. 8 Cf. Laura Nasrallah, An Ecstasy of Folly: Prophecy and Authority in Early Christianity (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 2003) and the earlier but still important Gerhard Dautzenberg, Urchristliche Prophetie (Stuttgart: Kohlhammer, 1975). 5 6

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the Holy Spirit (clearly identified with the prophetic spirit of the Hebrew Bible) entered into Jesus’ disciples. Of course, Pentecost also therefore marked the beginning of Joel’s “last days,” so prophecy and eschatology met once again. Paul’s discussion of spiritual gifts in 1 Corinthians features a similar emphasis. He observes that prophecy and knowledge will continue until “perfection comes” (1 Cor. 13:8–10), insists that spiritual gifts will remain with the Christian community until Christ’s return (1 Cor. 1:4–8), and notes that prophecy is a community-building gift especially reserved for believers (1 Cor. 14:22). 9 However, Paul also cites as spiritual gifts what Antoinette Clark Wire has called “second-order speech,” that is, the interpretation of both prophecy and glossolalia. 10 In the case of glossolalia, the need for an interpreter was evident; in the case of prophecy, both Jewish and Greco-Roman traditions had long suggested that divinely inspired speech or vision might require equally inspired interpretation, and Paul’s own treatment of the question in 1 Cor. 14:29 advised that two or three prophets should “speak while the rest weigh their words.” At one point, Paul even seemed to suggest that the interpretation of divinely inspired speech was a separate gift: in the catalogue of spiritual gifts in 1 Cor. 12, he noted that “to another [is given] prophecy; to another, the discernment of spirits; to one, the gift of different tongues and to another, the interpretation of tongues” (1 Cor. 12:10). 11 The phrase “discernment of spirits” is διακρίσεις πνευμάτων in Paul’s Greek; although there is an ongoing debate among biblical scholars as to whether Paul intended this phrase to refer exclusively to prophecy or to include a broader range of inspired speech, 12 other early Christian uses of the noun διάκρσις reinforce its basic meaning of “distinguishing” or “differentiation.” 13 While Paul Cf. also Eph. 4:7–13, in which prophecy is one of the gifts that will remain until Christians achieve a unified faith. 10 Antoinette Clark Wire, The Corinthian Women Prophets: A Reconstruction through Paul’s Rhetoric (Minneapolis: Fortress Press, 1990), 148. 11 I break with the NJB translation here with the more traditional English phrase “the discernment of spirits”; NJB has “the power of distinguishing spirits,” which anticipates the future development of the concept. 12 Cf. André Munzinger, Discerning the Spirits: Theological and Ethical Hermeneutics in Paul (New York: Cambridge University Press, 2007) and his summary and evaluation of these arguments on 45–74. An even more recent effort to trace Paul’s intentions through early Christian works (up through the Vita Antonii) is Elisabeth Hense, Frühchristliche Profilierung der Spiritualität: Unterscheidung der Geister in Ausgewählten Schriften (Berlin: LIT Verlag Münster, 2010). Any final answer to the question of Paul’s original intention in framing 1 Cor. 12:10 falls well outside the scope of this study. 13 The other Pauline use of διάκρσις comes in Rom.14:1, where Paul advises against “arguments about doubtful points” (διάκρισεις διαλογισμων), but there are also references 9

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was not an uncritical champion of contemporary prophecy, he accepted it as a reality, and the enigmatic phrase “discernment of spirits” clearly had something to do with how he advised Christian communities to identify or interpret prophetic experience. With or without Pauline support, a tradition of Christian prophetic gifts handed down from the apostles endured through the first centuries of the Common Era. The early Christian community of the Didache was headed by bishop-deacons but was advised to honor wandering prophets on apostolic missions as if they were Jesus himself. False prophecy was an ever-present possibility, but the Didache maintains that a false prophet would be easily identified by attempts to outstay his or her welcome. Although the language of “testing” is used in the Didache, there is no reference to (or apparent need for) a special spiritual gift for distinguishing between prophets and freeloaders. 14 By the middle of the second century, however, competition between the claims of prophets and bishops (both claiming their own forms of apostolic succession) could be seen in the letters of Ignatius of Antioch, and by the end of that century Christianity was dealing with the movement called Montanism or the “New Prophecy,” whose adherents combined prophetic or ecstatic trances with the eschatological expectation of an imminent “new Jerusalem” at Pepuza in Asia Minor. 15 Reaction to Montanism was mixed, with the Roman Church eventually condemning Montanism but supporting the inclusion of the prophetically flavored Johannine corpus in the Christian canon. Indeed, much of the Montanist debate was fought over Scripture: anti-Montanists appealed to the warnings about false prophecy in Matthew, 1 Timothy, and 1 John, while Montanists countered with citations from Paul about the necessity of prophecy in a Christian community. 16 Throughout the Montanist debates, both sides claimed to be upholding Pauline orthodoxy, but there was comparatively little use of the Pauline concept of διάκρισις in Heb. 5:14 (where it refers to distinction between good and evil), 1 Clement 48:5 (where it refers to the skill of interpreting discourse), and the LXX text of Job 37:16 (where it describes the divine activity of regulating the clouds). 14 See Didache chps. 10–11 (in SC 248) and Aaron Milavec, “Distinguishing True and False Prophets: The Protective Wisdom of the Didache,” Early Christian Studies 2:2 (1994): 117–36. Also cf. Hense, Frühchristliche Profilierung, 39–55. 15 Christine Trevett, Montanism: Gender, Authority, and the New Prophecy (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1996) reconstructs the Montanist prophetic succession on 33–6 and discusses Ignatius’s opponents on 38–9. As Trevett points out, Ignatius not only suggests that bishops themselves should ideally possess visionary and other charismatic gifts but also encounters the problem of competing prophets, especially in Philadelphia (not far from the region where Montanism developed). 16 Ibid., 129.

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πνευμάτων. 17 Although the sources for this period are fragmentary, much of the contemporary opposition to Montanism seems to have focused on the prophets’ behavior – not the sexual peccadilloes enshrined in later heresiography, but their ecstatic trances, which “catholic” opponents insisted did not fit into the Judeo-Christian prophetic pattern and therefore implied false prophecy. Despite the eventual decline of Montanism, this issue remained ambiguous, since orthodox figures such as Justin and Athenagoras had joined the Montanists in arguing that Isaiah, Ezekiel, and John (among others) had spoken in ecstasy. 18 On this point, in fact, the Montanist position lasted much longer than the Montanists themselves.

Origen and the Antonine Tradition The first clear voice of Christian exegesis to link Pauline discernment of spirits with the false-prophecy warnings of Matthew and 1 John seems to have been the controversial third-century theologian Origen of Alexandria (185–253). Origen almost single-handedly developed many of the genres of Christian scriptural exegesis; his extensive exegetical oeuvre included homilies on 1 Corinthians, which, unfortunately, survive only in a few catena extracts. 19 However, his attention to the idea of discernment of spirits comes through in several extant works. In the famous On First Principles, for example, the Alexandrian notes a need “to discern clearly when the soul is moved by a better spirit, that is, when it suffers no mental disturbance or aberration whatsoever due to immediate inspiration and does not lose the free judgment of the will, as for example all the prophets Pierre de Labriolle’s Les sources de l’histoire du Montanisme (Fribourg: Librairie de l’université, 1913; reprinted, New York: AMS Press, 1980) contains not a single reference to 1 Cor. 12:10; although references to false prophecy are more common, they are less plentiful than one might expect, and many of them come from Tertullian’s defense of Montanism (cf. 40, 49). Cf. also Trevett, 130–2. 18 Cf. Trevett, 87–9. 19 The catena fragments on 1 Corinthians have been published by Claude Jenkins as “Origen on 1 Corinthians,” Journal of Theological Studies 9 (1908): 231–47, 353–72, 500–14 and 10 (1909): 29–51. Among these, a fragment of commentary exists on 1 Cor. 12:8–10 (Jenkins 31–2) but says nothing about discernment of spirits. Intriguingly, in the fragment on 1 Cor. 14:37–8 (Jenkins 43), Origen seems to suggest that the prophetic gift allows its bearer to distinguish between things of God and things not of God, perhaps pointing the way to the inclusion of inspired scriptural exegetes under the category of “prophet” in the early Middle Ages; these observations derive from Caroline Bammel, “Origen’s Definitions of Prophecy and Gnosis,” Journal of Theological Studies n.s. 40 (1989): 489–93. For a broader-ranging introduction to Origen as exegete, cf. Joseph Trigg’s excellent biography, Origen (New York: Routledge, 1998). 17

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and apostles were [moved].” 20 This is a clear link to the lingering Montanist debates over prophetic ecstasy, and it is interesting to note that Origen seems to be coming down on the anti-ecstatic side, although he does not phrase this as a sine qua non for a “better spirit.” Instead, he turns to the Pauline concept of discernment of spirits, and his integration of the Pauline and Johannine traditions on evaluating prophecy becomes manifest in his third homily on Exodus. Explaining the assertion in Ex. 4:12 that God will open Moses’ mouth and teach him what to say, Origen notes that the devil can also open mouths to produce lies and other evils. And so, he writes, It seems to me to be no small grace to recognize a mouth which the devil opens. A mouth and words of this sort cannot be discerned without the grace of the Holy Spirit, and therefore in the divisions of spiritual graces there is also added this: that to certain people is given discernment of spirits [1 Cor. 12:10]. The grace, therefore, by which a spirit is discerned is spiritual, as the apostle says elsewhere, “test the spirits to see whether they are from God” [1 John 4:1] …. And therefore we ought to pray that God will deign to open our mouth, so that we may subdue those who speak against us and close the mouth which the devil opens. 21

It is not that Origen does not perceive significant differences between divinely and diabolically inspired speech. At one point in his discussion of the Exodus text, in fact, he offers a series of descriptive equivalences for divine speech: “if indeed that which is said relates to the benefit of the soul, if the speech is from God, if it teaches proper behavior, encourages virtues, restrains vices, it should open the ears to such utterances.” 22 Still, Cf. Joseph Lienhard, “On ‘Discernment of Spirits’ in the Early Church,” Theological Studies 41 (1980): 505–29, esp. 512–14; and Hense, Frühchristliche Profilierung, 96–121. The quotation is from Origen’s De principiis 3.3.4. “Vnde et ex hoc manifesta discretione dinoscitur, quando anima melioris spiritus praesentia moueatur, id est, si nullam prorsus ex imminenti adspiratione obturbationem uel alienationem mentis incurrat nec perdat arbitrii sui iudicium liberum; sicut exemplo sunt omnes uel prophetae uel apostoli….” This text is in the Crouzel and Simonetti edition (SC 268): Origène: Traité des Principes (Paris: Cerf, 1980), 3:195. Lothar Lies argues that Origen’s De principiis may have affected Ignatius of Loyola’s theories about discernment of spirits in “Die Lehre der Unterscheidung der Geister bei Origenes und Ignatius von Loyola,” Origeniana 7 (1999): 717–32. 21 Origen, Homiliae in Exodum 3.3, as edited in Marcel Borret, Origène: Homélies sur l’Exode, SC 321 (Paris: Cerf, 1985), 92 and 96: “Unde mihi videtur non esse parvae gratiae intelligere os quod aperit diabolus. Non est sine sancti Spiritus gratia hujusmodi os et verba discernere; et ideo in diuisionibus spiritalium gratiarum additur etiam hoc quod datur quibusdam discretio spirituum? Ergo spiritalis est gratia per quam spiritus discernitur, sicut et alibi dicit Apostolus: Probate spiritus, si ex Deo sunt. Et ideo orandum nobis est, ut dignetur Dominus aperire os nostrum, ut possimus et contradicentes reuincere et obturare os quod diabolus aperit.” 22 Ibid., in Borret, Origène, 94: “Si uero ad utilitatem animae pertinent quae dicuntur, si de Deo sermo est, si mores docet, uirtutes inuitat, uitia resecat, patere debent aures 20

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these are not guidelines, and Origen makes no effort to offer such in this passage. The spiritual grace of discerning spirits is not merely useful, according to Origen; it seems to be the only way of distinguishing with certainty between the mouth God opens and the mouth the devil opens. Origen’s Commentary on the Song of Songs reinforces this message: when it comes to capturing its own evil thoughts, “the soul [is given] the power of discernment of spirits, so that she may understand which thought is according to God and which is from the devil.” 23 Apparently, the discernment of spirits is a grace given to “certain people” (presumably the most spiritually advanced Christians) to determine their own inner promptings. As one might expect, Origen’s reading of 1 Cor. 12:10 had a profound impact on the nascent tradition of Pauline commentary. John Chrysostom of Antioch, a prominent participant in the fourth-century “Origenist” debates, echoed the connection between discernment of spirits and false prophecy in the earliest extant series of homilies on 1 Corinthians. With typical Antiochene historicism, however, Chrysostom suggests that the discernment of spirits was necessary in first-century Corinth because Corinthian Christians needed a way to distinguish true prophets from the soothsayers endemic in their society: “Discernment of spirits … is knowing who is a spiritual person and who is not; who is a prophet and who a deceiver …. for great was the rush of the false prophets at that time.” 24 Compared to Origen, Chrysostom shows relatively little concern about the possibility of false prophecy or demonic influence in fourth-century Antioch. Later Greek commentators such as Theodoret of Cyrrhus and Cyril of Alexandria took the same historical view of the passage. 25 The earliest Latin commentator on 1 Corinthians offered a slightly different perspective, however. This was the popular “Ambrosiaster,” identified with Ambrose of Milan throughout the Middle Ages and now revealed as huiuscemodi eloquiis.” (Origen has moved briefly from discussing God’s opening Moses’ mouth to God’s opening Isaiah’s ears [Is. 50:5].) 23 Origen, Comm. in Canticum Canticorum 4.3.3 (on Cant. 2:15): “Capiunt autem cogitationes malas in eo, cum, suggerunt menti non esse eas a Deo, sed esse a maligno, et dant animae discretionem spirituum, ut intelligat quae sit cogitatio secundum Deum et quae sit ex diabolo.” In the Crouzel/Brésard edition (SC 376), Origène: Commentaire sur le Cantique des Cantiques (Paris: Cerf, 1992), 2:721–2. (The grammatical subject of “capiunt” and “dant” seems to be “angelis sanctis” one sentence back; Origen takes the phrase from Heb. 1:14.) 24 Chrysostom’s homilies on 1 Cor. are edited in PG 61; Homily 29, on 1 Cor. 12, appears in cols. 239–50. I have slightly adapted the translation of this passage from St. Chrysostom: Homilies on the Epistles of Paul to the Corinthians, ed. Philip Schaff, in Nicene and Post-Nicene Fathers XII, 1st ser. (Grand Rapids, Mich.: Eerdmans, 1955), 172. Cf. also Lienhard, 509–10. 25 Cf. Lienhard, 510.

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an original thinker familiar with the Greek Origenist tradition, writing during the pontificate of Damasus (366–384), probably a Roman presbyter. 26 Ambrosiaster describes the discernment of spirits in terms that remind us both of Origen and of the fourth-century Roman fascination with ascetic life: discretio spirituum is the ability “to understand and judge what is said, whether a spirit is holy or of the world.” 27 As Joseph Lienhard has pointed out, however, earlier in the same passage Ambrosiaster characterizes all nine of the Holy Spirit’s gifts as belonging to the clergy ex officio. Thus any cleric could claim the grace of discernment of spirits “not on his own account, but due to his rank through the efficacy of the Holy Spirit.” 28 Other early Latin commentators simply offered a pale imitation of Origen, providing rather vague descriptions of the discernment of spirits as a gift allowing someone (it is never specified who) to distinguish between divine and diabolic spirits (whatever those may be). 29 These descriptions – especially Ambrosiaster’s – continued to be used in Latin exegesis for the next millennium, but often without much thought as to their implications. The turn towards a practical contemporary application of discernment of spirits came not from the commentary tradition but from the emerging literature of Christian monasticism. An early and indisputably influential monastic text is the Vita Antonii, which most scholars agree was written by Athanasius of Alexandria (c. 296–373) but which reflects the life of a very real Egyptian monk and profoundly Origenist theologian who died in 356. 30 Antony, according to Athanasius, was skilled at avoiding the devil’s Cf. Sophie Lunn-Rockliffe, Ambrosiaster’s Political Theology (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2007), 17–32 on reception and 80–86 on Ambrosiaster’s clerical status. 27 Ambrosiaster, In epistulas sancti Pauli ad Corinthios prima 12.10: “Alii discretio spirituum. {hoc dicit} ut intellegat et iudicet, quod dicetur, an spiritus sancti sit an mundani.” Ambrosiastri qvi dicitvr commentarivs in epistvlas Pavlinas II (CSEL 81:2), ed. H.J. Vogels (Vienna: Hoelder-Pichler-Tempsky, 1968), 134. I have used my own translation, but a smoother (if less precise) version appears in Gerald Bray, Commentaries on Romans and 1–2 Corinthians by Ambrosiaster, Downers Grove, Ill.: IVP Academic, 2009, 178. A more academically oriented translation and commentary for all Ambrosiaster’s Pauline commentaries is forthcoming in Brill’s Writings from the GrecoRoman World series, sponsored by the Society for Biblical Literature. 28 Ibid. 12.4, in Vogels, Ambrosiastri, 133: “gratiam…non utique propriam, sed ordinis per efficaciam spiritus sancti.” Cf. also Lienhard, 510–11. Lunn-Rockliffe views Ambrosiaster’s tendency to bolster clerical authority as central to an emphasis on the hierarchical nature of the created world, the Church, and society. 29 Cf. Lienhard, 510, referring to the late fourth-/early fifth-century commentaries of Pelagius and Pseudo-Jerome. 30 Cf. Samuel Rubenson, The Letters of St. Antony: Origenist Theology, Monastic Tradition and the Making of a Saint (Lund: Lund University Press, 1990), esp. 86–7 on the similarities between Origen’s and Antony’s demonology. Athanasius’s Vita Antonii is usually dated to the period between 356 and 362, and its translation into Latin was very 26

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deceptions by “thinking about the Christ and considering the excellence won through him, and the intellectual part of the soul.” 31 On several occasions, the young Antony forces the devil to reveal his true form or identifies diabolic illusion correctly. 32 After twenty years of ascetic life, the fictional Antony tells his companions that demons have “deceived the Greeks with apparitions” since before the advent of Christianity, but for Christians “much prayer and asceticism is needed so that one who receives through the Holy Spirit the gift of discrimination of spirits might be able to recognize their traits – for example, which of them are less wicked, and which more; and in what kind of pursuit each of them exerts himself; and how each of them is overturned and expelled.” 33 Just as Origen did, Antony argues that the gift of διάκρσις πνευμάτων results in accurate identification of diabolic or demonic trickery. This gift seems to be linked to proper behavior, here “prayer and asceticism,” in another Origenist echo. The fictional Antony continues his monologue by insisting that demons have no real bodies and so are limited in their powers, and that even the devil’s invitations to prayer or scriptural quotations should be ignored. 34 Demonic claims to prophetic knowledge are true only insofar as they can make educated conjectures or report events faster than a human messenger can. 35 Antony advises first ignoring demonic invitations, then signing oneself with the cross and praying. If neither of these avails, the demons can simply be ignored, “for discrimination between the presence of the good and the evil is easy and possible, when God so grants it.” 36 Athanasius’s Antony continues by offering the first practical Christian guidelines for telling the difference between a divine and a diabolic vision, centering around the vision’s impact on the visionary and its outcomes. A holy vision is tranquil and gentle, Antony explains, and while it may rapid. Augustine, for instance, seems to have read it in Latin in the 380s (cf. Confessions Book 8). The best edition of the Greek text is G.J.M. Bartelink, Vie d’Antoine, in SC 400. I have used the excellent if older translation by Robert Gregg, Athanasius: The Life of Antony and the Letter to Marcellinus (Mahwah, NJ: Paulist Press, 1980). On the VA’s contribution to discernment of spirits, see R.M. Peterson, “‘The gift of discerning spirits’ in the Vita Antonii 16–44,” Studia patristica 17:2 (1982): 523–27, and also Lienhard, 514–7, and Hense, 121–32. On the VA’s overall reception history and especially its early Latin translations, cf. Pascal Bertrand, Die Evagriusübersetzung der Vita Antonii: Rezeption – Überlieferung – Edition: Unter besonderer Berücksichtigung der Vitas Patrum-Tradition, Utrecht: Proefschrift Universiteit Utrecht, 2006. 31 VA 5 (Gregg, Athanasius, 34). 32 Cf., for instance, VA 6 and 11. 33 VA 22 (Gregg, Athanasius, 47–8). 34 VA 23–30. 35 VA 31–3. 36 VA 35.

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initially frighten the soul, it ultimately leads to a joyous desire for union. A demonic vision, however, is noisy and confusing, with different results. 37 When, therefore, you are frightened on seeing someone, if the fear is instantly removed, and its place is taken by unspeakable joy and cheerfulness and confidence and renewed strength, and calmness of thought, and by the other things I mentioned before, both bravery and love of God, be of good courage and say your prayers. For the joy and stability of the soul attest to the holiness of the one who is in your presence. … But if, when certain ones appear, a disturbance occurs and noise from outside, and an apparition of a worldly kind, and threat of death, and things I spoke of before, know that the visit is from the wicked. And let this too be a sign to you: When the soul remains in fear, that is due to the presence of the enemies. 38

Antony closes his mini-treatise on demons by warning against boasting about one’s ability to expel demons and by offering a series of anecdotes detailing his own prowess. He concludes with a repetition of his earlier advice about demonic powerlessness and the need for Christian courage, at which point his listeners are strengthened in virtue and “all were persuaded to hate the demonic conniving, marveling at the grace given by the Lord to Antony for the discernment of spirits.” 39 Towards the end of the Vita Antonii, its narrator again sums up Antony’s ascetic abilities, ending with the statement of how “possessing the gift of discerning spirits, as I said before, he recognized their [demons’] movements and he knew that for which each one of them had a desire and appetite.” 40 For Athanasius’s Antony, it seems, discernment of spirits is first and foremost a divine gift or grace. However, the manifestation of that gift results in an intuitive knowledge of demonology: not only can Antony distinguish demonic visitations from their divine counterparts, but he can also identify (and therefore successfully expel) the different varieties of demons. This seems to be consonant with other materials describing Antony’s life: a Coptic version of the fourth-century Vita Pachomii features Antony’s solving a debate by referring to a revelation he has received from an angel of God and warning his own disciples to test others and to beware of false prophets. 41 The several collections of Apophthegmata Patrum also feature Antony emphasizing the need for discernment (διάκρισις), cautioning against demons who appear as angels of light, and VA 35–6. VA 36–7 (Gregg, Athanasius, 58–9). Athanasius gives several scriptural proof-texts, including Gabriel’s appearance to Zachariah, father of John the Baptist (which would become a standard example in later discernment treatises). 39 Athanasius, VA 42–4; the quote comes from VA 44 (Gregg, Athanasius, 64). 40 VA 88 (Gregg, Athanasius, 94). 41 Cf. Rubenson, 168. (The passage seems to include an allusion to 1 John 4:1 and a definite citation of Matt. 7:15.) 37 38

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demonstrating the ability to identify demonic visions as such. 42 Throughout the Apophthegmata Patrum, however, the Pauline phrase “discernment of spirits” is absent; only “discernment” (διάκρισις) is mentioned, and then the term seems to waver between referring to a necessary monastic virtue and a superior spiritual insight. 43 Origen’s simultaneous interest in behavioral considerations and spiritual charisms seems to have resulted in a gradual elision of the concept of διάκρισις and the equally key monastic notion of measure or moderation (μέτρον). 44 With the shift to Latin and the term discretio, this tendency became more pronounced: a chapter in the Greek Apophthegmata Patrum referring to the measures of youth and age was translated into Latin under the title De discretione. 45 Latin translations of both the Apophthegmata Patrum and the Vita Antonii were extremely popular from the fourth century forward; these documents were read in Benedictine monasteries beginning in the sixth century and served to transmit an “Antonine” (or more accurately, Origenist) doctrine of discernment of spirits to the Latin Middle Ages.

Visionary and Monastic Modes of Discernment Perhaps the most famous pre-Benedictine reader of the Vita Antonii was Augustine of Hippo (354–430), Christian convert and controversialist. As early as 394, Augustine had written an anti-Manichaean treatise entitled Contra Adimantum, in which he defended the validity of Ezekiel’s vision of God. 46 Augustine explains that although God is indeed invisible, Scripture contains “many types of visions.” 47 One takes place “according to corporeal eyes,” as in Moses’ vision of the burning bush; another “according to the spirit, by which we imagine that which we feel with the body,” as in Peter’s vision of the clean and unclean animals. 48 Finally, a third Ibid., 160. (Obviously Antony is citing 2 Cor. 11:14.) Cf. Lienhard, 520–1, and François Dingjan, “La discrétion dans les apophtegmes des Pères,” Angelicum 39 (1962): 403–15. There is a great deal of interesting material about monastic διάκρισις in the Apophthegmata Patrum, but considerations of space and focus prohibit a full treatment of this issue. 44 Cf. André Cabusset, “Discrétion,” DS, 3:1311–2. 45 De discretione appears in the Latin Verba Seniorum 5.10 (PL 73 cols. 912–33). Cf. Dingjan, “La discrétion,” 413 n. 31. 46 The best edition of Contra Adimantum is in CSEL 25 (sect. 6, part 1), ed. Joseph Zycha (Prague: F. Tempsky, 1891), 115–90. 47 Contra Adimantum 28, in Zycha ed., 188: “multa genera visionis.” 48 Ibid.: “unum secundum oculos corporis …. alterum secundum spiritum, quo imaginamur ea, quae per corpus sentimus.” (Spiritual visions, Augustine points out, do not 42 43

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form of vision takes place “according to the consideration of the mind, by means of which truth and wisdom are grasped as understood.” 49 Without this type of vision, the other two types are “unfruitful” and susceptible to error, and Augustine cites Romans to prove that the “invisible things” of God can indeed be understood through God’s creation. 50 But Contra Adimantum strongly implies that all true prophets of God view the divine through a combination of corporeal visions and intellectual interpretation, since nobody can have a pure enough heart to know God fully. 51 De genesi ad litteram, written in stages between 401 and 415, returns to this problem in its twelfth and final book: addressing the spiritual nature of Eden, Augustine encounters Paul’s claim in 2 Corinthians to have known a “certain man” – immediately identified with Paul himself – “who … was caught up into the third heaven” or “paradise.” 52 The question of what Paul’s experience involved requires an outline of the same three types of vision from Contra Adimantum: corporeal, spiritual, and intellectual. 53 As before, corporeal vision is standard-issue ocular viewing of perceptible images, spiritual vision operates through the imagination and also sees enigmas or images, and intellectual vision operates through the mind’s judgment (contuitum mentis) which sees species or essences. 54 mean that God is corporeal but “show many things figuratively” – “figurate multa monstrantur” (189).) 49 Ibid.: “secundum mentis intuitum, quo intellecta conspicitur veritas atque sapientia.” 50 The verse in question is Rom. 1:20: Augustine, working from an Old Latin edition, quotes the Apostle as saying “invisibilia enim dei a constitutione mundi per ea, quae facta sunt, intellecta conspiciuntur.” The Vulgate substitutes “ipsius” for “dei,” although God is clearly the referent of Paul’s statement. I have provided the Latin here because Augustine is clearly deriving much of his terminology for the third type of vision from this verse; an English version would run “For the invisible things of God from the creation of the world are perceived by the understanding of things which are made.” 51 Ibid., 189–90. (Augustine does indeed cite Matt. 5:8, “Blessed are the pure of heart, for they shall see God.”) 52 2 Cor. 12:2–4; DGAL 12.1–2. I will be using the traditional chapter and verse divisions throughout my discussion of De genesi ad litteram; where I cite text, it comes from the Bibliothèque Augustinienne edition of DGAL (vols. 48–9; ed. Agaësse and A. Solignac; Paris: Desclée de Brouwer, 1972), which contains a slightly revised version of Zycha’s text from CSEL 28:1. A new critical edition is long overdue; there is, however, an excellent translation available in St. Augustine: The Literal Meaning of Genesis, trans. John Hammond Taylor (New York: Newman Press, 1982), 2 vols. The best recent study of DGAL is probably Ludwig Fladerer, Augustinus als Exeget: zu seinen Kommentaren des Galaterbriefes und der Genesis (Wien: Österreichischen Akademie der Wissenschaften, 2010). 53 DGAL 12.7.16 ff. 54 Ibid., 12.9.20–1.

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Spiritual vision is clearly a problem category for Augustine in DGAL; it was the method through which most biblical prophecies and visions appeared (e.g., John’s Revelation), but it was also unreliable because it did not necessarily come from God. In DGAL, therefore, Augustine logically moves into a discussion of discernment of spirits which is quite reminiscent of Origen and/or Antony but is based on the three types of vision he has just outlined. Dreams and visions deriving from illness or other bodily symptoms can be clearly distinguished as corporeal, Augustine explains, but when an otherwise healthy person experiences an apparently noncorporeal vision, matters become more complicated. 55 The human soul possesses “a certain power of divination” by which it can usually tell corporeal from spiritual visions. 56 Unfortunately, “discernment is doubtless very difficult when the evil spirit acts, as it were, more tranquilly, without any vexation to the body ….[or] when it speaks truthfully and makes useful predictions, transforming itself, as it is written, into an angel of light.” 57 Ecstasy or excessus mentis can come from natural or supernatural causes and so can pertain to any sort of vision. 58 Unless the vision advises actions “against good morals or the rule of faith,” distinguishing good from evil spiritual visions is nearly impossible. 59 And even a bona fide spiritual vision from God could be misinterpreted, as Peter had done in Acts 11:8. 60 In such cases, Augustine opines, “I do not think it is possible to discern without the gift of which the Apostle spoke, when he spoke of the many gifts of God: ‘to another the discernment [diiudicatio] of spirits.’” 61 By contrast, intellectual vision is always from God and is infallible, because it involves instantaneous contact with the true essences of things: “Either one does not understand, so that [the vision] is interpreted as other than it is, or if one understands, it is immediately true.” 62 Cf. ibid., 12.19.41. Ibid., 12.13.27: “vim quandam divinitationis in se ipsa.” 57 Ibid., 12.13.28: “Discretio sane difficilima [sic] est, cum spiritus magnus quasi tranquillius agit ac sine aliqua vexatione corporis …. Quando etiam vera dicit et utilia praedicta, transfigurans se, sicut scriptum est, velut angelum lucis” [2 Cor. 11:14]. 58 Ibid., 12.2.4 and elsewhere. 59 Ibid., 12.14.28: “Non enim magnum est tunc eum dinoscere, cum ad aliqua pervenerit vel perduxerit, qua sunt contra bonos mores vel regulam fidei.” 60 Ibid., 12.14.30. 61 Ibid. “Hunc discerni non arbitror nisi dono illo, de quo ait apostolus, cum de diversis Dei muneribus loqueretur: alii diiudicatio spirituum.” Discernment of spirits was discretio spirituum in the Vulgate (and for Ambrosiaster) but separatio spirituum for Tertullian and diiudicatio spirituum in Augustine’s Latin version. 62 Ibid., 12.14.29. “aut enim non intellegerit, qui aliud opinatur quam est, aut, si intellegit, continuo verum est.” For his summary discussion of why image-based visions are fallible in 12.15.52, Augustine is heavily indebted to Cicero’s De divinatione (esp. 2.48), 55 56

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However, Augustine credits only Moses and Paul with achieving this level of vision, and he stresses that it is extremely rare, granted “only to one who somehow dies to this life, whether he leaves his body completely or is turned away and estranged from his bodily senses.” 63 According to Augustine, then, discernment of spirits applies only to otherwise orthodox spiritual visions; it would be pointless to apply it to intellectual visions, the other possible channel of prophecy, because intellectual visions can come only from God. Augustine’s influence on medieval theories and theologies of vision is difficult to exaggerate: more than a hundred medieval manuscripts of De genesi ad litteram survive, and Isidore of Seville quoted the relevant section of Contra Adimantum in the discussion of prophecy in his Etymologiae, which was even more widely read (nearly a thousand medieval manuscripts are still in existence). 64 Deviations from Augustine’s tripartite scheme among medieval authors can be counted on one hand, although it became commonplace to refer to spiritual vision as “imaginary” and to elide the boundaries between fallible spiritual visions and infallible (and therefore desirable) intellectual visions. 65 Still, Augustine remained determinedly vague about who should properly exercise the “gift of discernment of spirits” and in what, if any, contemporary context. The only accessible practical example in Augustine’s writings is that of his mother Monica, who apparently “discerned … by a certain smell, which she could not explain in words, the difference between [God’s] revelations and her and elsewhere to Iamblichus and the Neoplatonic debates over psyche and pneuma; cf. Thomas Finan, “Modes of Vision in St. Augustine: De Genesi ad Litteram XII,” in The Relationship between Neoplatonism and Christianity, eds. T. Finan and Vincent Twomey (Dublin, 1992), 141–54. But other scholars emphasize the originality of Augustine’s visio intellectualis in its role of conveying inner meaning, e.g. Karin Schlapbach, “Intellectual Vision in Augustine, De Genesi ad litteram 12, or: Seeing the Hidden Meaning of Images”, Studia Patristica 43 (2006): 239–44. 63 Ibid., 12.27.55. “nisi ab hac vita quisque quodammodo moriatur sive omnino exiens de corpore sive ita aversus et alienatus a carnalibus sensensibus.” (However, Augustine is careful to distinguish intellectual vision from the beatific vision of God after death; cf. 12.35.68.) 64 Cf. Bernard McGinn, “Visions and Critiques of Visions in Thirteenth-Century Mysticism,” in Rending the Veil: Concealment and Secrecy in the History of Religions, ed. Elliot Wolfson (New York, 1998), 122. For Isidore’s version of Contra Adimantum, cf. Etymologiae 7.8.37–40. (The “nearly a thousand” figure is taken from the “Isidore of Seville, Saint” article in Encyclopaedia Brittanica.) 65 To the best of this author’s knowledge, Aelred of Rielvaulx and Richard of SaintVictor are the only major medieval thinkers who propose more than three (much less a different three) categories of vision, although subdivisions in Augustine’s categories do occasionally pop up (e.g., Denys the Carthusian’s distinction between “pure” and “partial” imaginary and intellectual visions, bringing his total categories up to five).

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own soul dreaming” and had an accurate dream that Augustine would join her in the Catholic fold, yet ignored this evidence when she prayed for a vision of Augustine’s future married life. 66 Perhaps as a result of Augustine’s avoidance of other contemporary examples, relatively few of his late antique and early medieval readers saw him as an authority on the Antonine ideal of διάκρισις – now the Latin discretio. They tended to cite him as an expert on types of prophetic vision, but they ignored his related proposal for discerning spirits. Another indirect heir to the Antonine tradition was Gregory the Great (c. 540–604). Like Monica in the Confessions, the speaker in Gregory’s Dialogues is concerned with dreams rather than prophecy or vision more generally. 67 However, De genesi ad litteram had also linked the topics of dream and vision, moving from the unreliability of the former to the classification of the latter, and there is considerable Augustinian influence throughout the Dialogues. 68 Whatever his immediate sources, Gregory follows a long classical and patristic tradition of skepticism about the reliability of dreams, but concedes that they may represent either direct or indirect revelation. 69 He warns that dreams often represent diabolic illusions and so should not be given too much credence, but their potential as truly divine messages makes it impossible to ignore them, and it is not easy to ascertain the origin of any given dream. 70 “However,” he notes, “holy men distinguish between illusions and revelations in visions, voices, or images by means of a certain intimate smell, so that they know either

Confessiones 6.13.23: “Dicebat enim discernere se nescio quo sapore, quem uerbis explicare non poterat, quid interessent inter reuelantem te et animam suam somniantem.” The best Latin edition of the Confessions – which also includes an English translation – is Confessions, ed. James J. O’Donnell (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1992). 67 The topic of true/false dreams is mostly outside the scope of this study, although that topic periodically overlaps with any investigation into discretio spirituum. Medieval thinkers drew on classical authors such as Cicero, Macrobius, and Artemidorus as well as the many scriptural examples of inspired dreaming and patristic commentaries on the significance of dreams. For additional material on dreams and dream-visions, cf. Stephen F. Kruger, Dreaming in the Middle Ages (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1992), esp. 50–3 on Augustine and Gregory; and Carolly Erickson, The Medieval Vision: Essays in History and Perception (New York: Oxford University Press, 1976), 1–47. 68 Cf. Augustine, DGAL 12.2.3. 69 Gregory the Great, Dialogues 4.50, in Grégoire le Grand: Dialogues 3 (SC 265), ed. Adalbert de Vogüé (Paris: Cerf, 1980). By “indirect revelation” I mean Gregory’s category of cogitatione simul et reuelatione (Dialogues 4.50.2, in de Vogüé, 172); judging from his examples, the term refers to a dream which requires inspired interpretation to unlock its revelatory contents. 70 Gregory, Dialogues 4.50.3–6, in de Vogüé, 172–6. 66

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that they are seized by a good spirit, or that they suffer from an illusion.” 71 Although Monica’s example would seem apt, the “holy men” here are clearly an echo of the Antonine monastic tradition. 72 As it was for Augustine, some sort of supernatural discernment ability is indispensable for Gregory, although Gregory never uses the phrase discretio spirituum. Thanks to the popularity of the Dialogues, this passage immediately became a locus classicus for Christian dream interpretation. But, like Augustine, Gregory’s influence on the more general topic of discretio was not recognized until the late Middle Ages. Late antique and early medieval contemporaries of Augustine and Gregory were more likely to look to another patristic source for insights on discretio. John Cassian (c. 365–435), Augustine’s contemporary, lived as a monk in Bethlehem and Egypt and studied in the Origenism of Evagrius of Pontus and the Antonine tradition before moving west and founding Latin monasteries in southern France. 73 In the writings he provided for these monasteries, Cassian offered one of the first Latin theories of monasticism, drawing on both the Apophthegmata and the Origenist monastic tradition. In contradistinction to the Apophthegmata Patrum, however, and in sympathy with Origen and the Vita Antonii, Cassian links discretio explicitly with Pauline discretio spirituum. Cassian’s Conlationes are ostensibly a series of dialogues with famous abbots from the Eastern tradition: the second conference is given over to Abbot Moses’ discussion of discretio. 74 The legendary Antony (of course) is Moses’ source for the unparalleled importance of discretio for monastic life. After describing Antony’s testimony in favor of discretio, Moses tells his monastic audience that “it is most clear that no virtue can be perfected or can be finished or can Ibid., Dialogues 4.50.6, in de Vogüé, 174–6: “Sancti autem viri inter inlusiones atque reuelationes ipsas uisionum uoces aut imagines quodam intimo sapore discernunt, ut sciant uel quid a bono spiritu percipiant, uel quid ab inlusione patiantur.” 72 Ibid., Dialogues 4.50–1, in de Vogüé, 176, followed by cautionary examples. For more on Gregory’s monastic ideal of discretio, as distinguished from discretio spirituum, cf. Rodrigue Belanger, “‘Discretionis lineam bene tendere’ (Mor. 28, 29): la règle d’un juste exercice de la vertu selon Grégoire le Grand,” Studia Patristica 28 (1993): 15–23. 73 There are several excellent biographies of Cassian, including Columba Stewart, Cassian the Monk (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1998). A more specific study is Gerd Summa’s Geistliche Unterscheidung bei Johannes Cassian, Würzburg: Echter, 1992. I follow Summa in emphasizing the strong connections between asceticism, spiritual discretion, and discernment of spirits in Cassian’s work. 74 Cassian’s Conlationes have most recently been edited by E. Pichery in SC, and the excerpts from Conl. 2 are in SC 42: Jean Cassien: Conférences I-VII (Paris: Cerf, 1955). Although I have made my own translations, an excellent English translation is available as John Cassian: The Conferences, trans. Boniface Ramsey (Mahwah, NJ: Paulist Press, 1997). 71

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endure without the grace of discernment. … For discernment is the mother, the guardian, and the moderator of all the virtues.” 75 Moses also emphasizes the “givenness” of discernment: just before he cites 1 Cor. 12:10, he asserts that discretio “is no everyday virtue, nor one which can be seized anywhere merely by human effort. It is ours only as a gift from God and we read in the Apostle that it is to be numbered among the most outstanding gifts of the Holy Spirit.” 76 The verse from 2 Cor. 11:14 about Satan’s angels disguising themselves as angels of light appears in connection with an anecdote about a monk lacking discretio, 77 and one of Moses’ auditors, Germanus, again echoes Origen when he asks Moses “how one should acquire it [discretio]… how one can know whether something is true and from God, or false and from the devil?” 78 However, and again in the best Origenist tradition, Cassian’s Moses stresses the requirement of proper behavior as a prerequisite for discretio: True discernment cannot be obtained without true humility. This will be the first proof of this humility, that everything which is not only done but thought is submitted to be examined by elders.… This established practice will not only teach the young monk to march directly along the way of true discernment, but will also protect him from all the deceits and snares of the enemy. 79

For Cassian, unlike Augustine or Gregory, discernment is as much about morals as it is about the Holy Spirit. Of course, Cassian’s ideal monk lives in a community based on the traditio of monastic elders as well as geographic proximity to fellow monks. Discernment is not only moral, but also communal: “We can most easily come to a precise knowledge [scientiam] of true discernment by following the traces of our elders, by doing nothing novel, and by not presuming to

Cassian, Conl. 2.4, in Pichery, Jean Cassien, 115–6: “Quibus manifestissime declaratur nullam sine discretionis gratia perfecte posse uel perfici uel stare uirtutem…. Omnium namque uirtutem generatrix, custos moderatrixque discretio est.” 76 Conl. 2.1, in Pichery, 111: “Est enim non mediocris quaedam uirtus nec quae humana passim ualeat industria conprehendi, nisi diuina fuerit largitate conlata, siquidem inter nobilissima spiritus sancti dona hanc quoque ita legimus ab apostolo numerari.” 77 Conl. 2.5, in Pichery, 117. 78 Conl. 2.9, in Pichery, 119–20: “Quomodo ergo adquiri debeat cupimus edoceri, aut quemadmodum utrum uera et ex deo, an falsa et diabolica sit possit agnosci.” 79 Conl. 2.10, in Pichery, 120: “Vera, inquit, discretio non nisi uera humilitate conquiritur. Cuius humilitatis haec erit prima probatio, si uniuersa non solum quae agenda sunt, sed etiam quae cogitantur, seniorum reseruentur examini…. Quae institutio non solum per ueram discretionis uiam iuuenem recto tramite docebit incedere, uerum etiam a cunctis fraudibus et insidiis inimici seruabit inlaesum.” 75

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discern by means of our own judgment.” 80 Monastic discretio becomes the act of monitoring not “spirits” but thoughts, which may come from God or the devil as well as from the monk himself: We must therefore keep a close eye on this threefold scheme of our thoughts, and we must exercise a wise discretion concerning them as they surface in our hearts. Right from the beginning we will scrutinize their origins, their causes, their originators, deciding our necessary reaction to them in the light of who it is that suggests them. 81

Moses advises his monastic audience to be like moneychangers, scrutinizing each thought for false metal (non-Christian origins, such as philosophy or Judaism) and counterfeit marks (of false piety or of heresy cloaking itself in Scripture), and finally disposing of underweight coins (thoughts which have been rusted by vanity). 82 Although Cassian’s interest in the origins of thoughts and the proper behavior of a monk fits neatly into the Origenist/Antonine tradition of discretio spirituum outlined above, it also bears a striking resemblance to the more mundane definition of discretio as moderation which appears in the Apophthegmata Patrum tradition. 83 Cassian’s discretio not only distinguishes between impulses from God and from the devil; it also “keeps us safe from the two kinds of excess,” i.e., too little and too much asceticism. 84 Cassian’s immediate successors chose to emphasize this aspect of discretio, with the result that the Latin word came to mean both “discernment” and “discretion” from about the fifth century forward. Even outside Cassian’s direct influence, Eastern monastic authors such as John Climacus (whose Scala paradisi was translated into Latin as early as the eleventh century) offered definitions of discernment that ranged from “selfknowledge” to “spiritual capacity” to “knowledge resulting from divine Conl. 2.11, in Pichery, 123: “Hoc igitur modo ad scientiam discretionis uerae peruenire facillime poterimus, ut seniorum uestigia subsequentes neque agere quicquam noui neque discernere nostro iudicio praesumamus.” 81 Conl. 1.20, in Pichery, 101: “Hanc igitur tripertitam rationem oportet nos iugiter obseruare et uniuersas cogitationes quae emergunt in corde nostro sagaci discretione discutere, origenes earum et causas auctoresque primitus indagantes, ut quales nos eis praebere debeamus ex illorum merito qui eas suggerunt considerare possimus.” (The threefold origin of monastic thoughts is Conl. 1.19, in Pichery, 99–100.) 82 Conl. 1.20–1, in Pichery, 101–5. This analogy had a long and fruitful life in Christian spirituality; in late medieval treatises on discernment, it would be adapted by Jan van Ruusbroec in Van der seven sloten, by Birgitta of Sweden in her Revelaciones, and by Jean Gerson in De distinctione verarum visionem ad falsis (cf. infra). 83 Lienhard may be exaggerating when he asserts on 526 that “Cassian is aware that Paul mentions ‘spirits,’ but he is unsure of what to do with them.” 84 Cassian, Conl. 2.16, in Pichery, 131: “Omni igitur conatu debet discretionis bonum uirtute humilitatis adquiri, quae nos inlaesos ab utraque potest nimietate seruare.” 80

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illumination.” 85 By the thirteenth century, Thomas Aquinas could comfortably equate discretio and prudentia. 86 The Rule of St. Benedict, which prescribed Cassian’s Conlationes as regular reading and so ensured its place in the development of Western Christian spirituality, tended to emphasize discretio as a sense of communal moderation, although it continued Cassian’s focus on humility as a necessary prerequisite. For Benedict, the virtue of discretio originates not with Paul and the Corinthian prophets but with Jacob, who sensibly refused to allow his flocks to be overdriven, and it has nothing to do with “spirits.” 87 If Augustine’s and Gregory’s references to the discernment of spirits were widely disregarded in subsequent centuries, Cassian’s paeans to discretio were often repeated and generalized in the context of Benedictine monasticism until they lost much of their specific intent. Nevertheless, the Vita Antonii and the Apophthegmata Patrum as well as Cassian’s Conlationes were widely read and copied during the Latin Middle Ages. The word discretio never quite lost its connotation of “distinction” or “discernment,” even when it seemed to refer mostly to “moderation” or “discretion.” 88 When taken together with the other patristic texts examined above, it is clear that medieval thinkers inherited exegetical, visionary, and monastic models of what the phrase discretio spirituum could mean. They had the multivalent testimony of Scripture on the topics of vision and prophecy. In short, they certainly had the sources John Climacus, Scala paradisi 26, trans. Colm Luibheid and Norman Russell as John Climacus: The Ladder of Divine Ascent (Mahwah, NJ: Paulist Press, 1982), 229. The original text is available in PG 88, cols. 1013–96; on Climacus’s diffusion into the Latin West, cf. Jean Gribomont, “La Scala Paradisi, Jean de Raïthou et Ange Clareno,” Studia Monastica 2 (1960): 345–58. Climacus actually identifies these different types of discernment as belonging to three stages of spiritual life, a development which is not echoed anywhere in Western writings on discernment with the possible exception of the Buch von Geistlicher Armuth, covered in Chapter Three. 86 This development has been addressed in detail by F. Dingjan, Discretio: Les origines patristiques et monastiques de la doctrine sur la prudence chez saint Thomas d’Aquin (Assen: van Gorcum, 1967), 229–50; cf. also Cabassut, “Discrétion.” Thomas’ remark, “discretio quae ad prudentiam pertinent,” is from his commentary on the third book of the Sentences, d. 33 q. 2 a. 5. 87 Regula Benedicti 64 (with reference to Gen. 33:13), in RB 1980: The Rule of St. Benedict in Latin and English with Notes, ed. Timothy Fry (Collegeville, MN: Liturgical Press, 1981), 17–9. Cf. also Lienhard 526–7; n. 89 on 527 is, in effect, a brief annotated bibliography of articles on discretio and Benedictine monasticism. 88 The clearest example is probably Richard of Saint-Victor’s division of discretio into five categories: diiudicatio (the closest to discernment of spirits), deliberatio, dispositio, dispensatio, and moderatio. This comes from Richard’s Adnotationes mysticae in Psalmos 143, in PL 196, 381d-382a. It is cited in Cabusset, “Discrétion,” 1312. 85

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from which to create new discourses about the discernment of spirits. It simply took some time before they needed to do so. 89

Division and Diversion through the Twelfth Century In the Western Christian tradition, there was relatively little new writing on the discernment of spirits between the fifth and the twelfth centuries, largely because contemporary prophecy and visionary activity were not much of a problem up through the eleventh century. As Bernard McGinn has pointed out, early medieval understandings of prophetic power ranged from visual and auditory revelations through interpretative insights, apologetic arguments, and accurate predictions of future events to the supremely generalized category of all those who saw God within themselves. 90 While living and recently deceased saints were often credited with prophetic power in a predictive sense, their predictions concerned personal rather than general eschatology and seldom generated much debate, enshrined as they typically were in saints’ lives. 91 Indeed, hagiographers often made a point of allowing little room for debate. For example, Adomnán’s Vita Sancti Columbae (c. 690) enumerated many examples of the saint’s visionary foresight, but also insisted that Columba’s prophetic experience was analogous to Paul’s ascent to the third heaven, leaving the strong implication that Columba had experienced infallible intellectual vision according to the Augustinian categories. 92 Meanwhile, predictions of a more apocalyptic or general nature often trickled in from the East and were usually pseudonymously attributed to Sibyls or patristic authorities. The handful of native pseudoprophetae between 500 and 1100 C.E. who Lienhard, 524, concludes that “‘discernment of spirits,’ it would seem, underwent no independent development in the Latin West. It was rather the function of the Western monastic tradition to formalize the Eastern teaching on discernment into rudimentary treatises.” Although this is true to a limited extent with regard to Cassian, it seems clear that the Latin Desert Fathers traditions, Cassian, and Augustine put together do indeed add up to considerable “independent development.” 90 Bernard McGinn, “Prophetic Power in Early Medieval Christianity,” in Lo statuto della profezia nel Medio Evo, Cristianesimo nella storia 17 (1996), ed. Potestà and Rusconi, 244ff. 91 Cf. McGinn, “Prophetic Power,” 266–9. Of course, there is a source problem here: early medieval saints’ lives are often the only extant sources which attest to the saints’ prophetic abilities, yet hagiographers had every reason to elide or eliminate contemporary criticism of the saint as they constructed his or her vita. 92 Adomnán of Iona, Vita Sancti Columbae, ed. and trans. A.O. and M.O. Anderson and rev. M.O. Anderson as Adomnan’s Life of Columba (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1991), 1.43 (300–4), cited in McGinn, “Prophetic Power,” 267 n. 61. 89

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predicted the imminence of Antichrist were usually judged as heretics, following Augustine’s admonition against using John’s Revelation as a prophetic timetable for the end of history. Again, judging from the limited sources we possess, there are few signs of debate over whether or not these individuals might have been true prophets, and there is no attempt to apply discretio spirituum in any of its patristic guises. 93 After all, the central categories of concern in early medieval Latin Christendom were infidels and heretics, not wonder-working prophets. Despite his interest in the interpretation of dreams, Gregory the Great had, famously, equated the prophets of the Old Testament with the doctors of Holy Church and insisted that the major prophetic function was describing the joys awaiting the blessed in heaven. 94 Later Latin exegetes writing on 1 Cor. 12:10, 1 John 4:1, and other key verses tended to dutifully echo their patristic predecessors, even when these echoes contradicted one another. For instance, Haymo of Auxerre (fl. 840–60), the author of an influential ninth-century set of commentaries including the Pauline epistles and the Song of Songs, felt no particular urge to create a coherent doctrine of discernment of spirits. 95 In his commentary on 1 Corinthians, Haymo echoes Chrysostom when he explains that discernment of spirits is given “so that one knows who speaks from the Holy Spirit, who from a human spirit, or who from an evil [spirit],” and he cites the example of “magicians and sorcerers” as well as the female soothsayer whose “spirit” Paul had ejected at Philippi (Acts 16:16–8). 96 In his Song of Songs commentary, however, Haymo draws his inspiration from Gregory and argues that the tower-like nose of the beloved (Cant. 7:5) refers to the Church’s holy doctores, who “wisely know how to discern between the fragrant doctrine of catholic faith and the fatal stench of heretical bodies.” Haymo then cites Cf. McGinn, “Prophetic Power,” 261–5. In the In Librum I Regnum 4.173 (published in SC 144, ed. Adalbert de Vogüé, 387–8). Cited in McGinn, “Prophetic Power,” 253 n. 9. 95 Haymo’s exegetical works are published, along with some apocryphal material, under the name of Haymo of Halberstadt (d. 853) in PL 116 and 117. On the question of which works are to be attributed to which Haymo, cf. Riccardo Quadri, “Aimone di Auxerre alla luce dei Collectanea di Heiric di Auxerre,” Italia Medioevale e Umanistica 6 (1963): 2–18, 25–7; also the more recent work of Sumi Shimihara, “Exegesis and Politics in the Works of Haymo of Auxerre,” Revue de l’histoire des religions 225:4 (2008): 471–86. Quadri and Shimihara agree that both the Pauline and Canticles commentaries cited here are definitely written by Haymo of Auxerre. 96 Haymo of Auxerre, Expositio in D. Pauli Epistolas s.v. 1 Cor. 12:10, in PL 116, 578b (as “Haymo Halberstatensi”): “alii discretio spirituum, ut noverit quis loquatur ex Spiritu sancto, vel quis ex spiritu humano, sive maligno: sicut loquebatur puella quae magnum quaestum praestabat dominis suis, de qua Paulus spiritum pythonicum expulit: et sicut loquebantur magi et incantatores.” 93 94

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1 Cor. 12:10 to prove that the discernment of spirits is a gift from the Holy Spirit, and concludes: “Therefore the nose of the Church is compared to a tower of Lebanon, because the holy doctors hold the highest place in the Church … and defend the Church from the incursions of evil spirits.” 97 Even the growth of popular heretical movements during the eleventh and twelfth centuries did not immediately foster a concomitant fascination with vision or prophecy, much less discernment of spirits. The early twelfth-century Glossa ordinaria offers only a dim and rather vague oneline synthesis of earlier traditions: with discretio spirituum, “one may discern what he hears, whether he is addressed by a good spirit or an evil spirit, since the devil speaks good in order to seduce.” 98 William of SaintThierry (d. 1148) cheerfully collapses the categories of prophecy and discernment of spirits. After announcing that true prophets would never attempt to predict the future during the Christian era, he noted that “nevertheless prophecy is also the discernment of spirits, and the knowledge of hidden senses of Scripture.” 99 Perhaps the most interesting – if least systematic – twelfth-century treatment of discretio spirituum came from William’s contemporary and friend, the Cistercian abbot Bernard of Clairvaux (1090–1153). 100 In two connected Sermones de diversis, Bernard describes the seven spirits that can impinge on a monk’s life: the devil, demons and other diabolic accomplices, the body, the world, God, good Haymo of Auxerre, Commentarium in Cantica canticorum s.v. 7:5, in PL 116, 344c: “iidem sancti doctores intelliguntur. Ipsi enim sagaciter discernere noverunt inter fragilitatem [sic – probably fragrantiam] catholicae fidei doctrinam et letiferum haeretici corporis fetorem. Nam et in divinis charismatibus, quae per Spiritum sanctum distribuuntur, dicitur: Alii datur per Spiritum discretio spirituum. Nasus ergo Ecclesiae turri Libani comparatur, quia sancti doctores et summum locum in Ecclesia tenent, ac veluti in Libano monte consistunt, et defendunt Ecclesiam a malignorum spirituum incursibus.” Haymo also equates heretics with false prophets in his Homiliae de temporae 120, PL 118, 641a. 98 The interlineal gloss for 1 Cor 12:10 following “alii discretio spirituum” runs “ut discernat quod audit, quo spiritu bono an malo dicatur, quia et dyabolus bona seductorie dicit.” Biblia Latina Cum Glossa Ordinaria 4 (facsimile of first edition, Brepols: Turnhout, 1992). 99 William of Saint-Thierry, Expositio in Epistolam ad Romanos 7, PL 180, 673C: “Est etiam prophetia discretio spirituum, et in Scripturis sensuum cognitio occultorum.” William then seems to equate this understanding of “prophecy” with doctrina vero and exhortatione [ad] moralis et benigna institutio in the following sentence. 100 As François Vandenbroucke points out in “Discernement des esprits,” 1255, “Les écrits de saint Bernard ne reflètent pas une doctrine homogène.” This has not prevented scholarship on the larger question of Bernard’s discretio, especially Christoph Benke, “Geistliche Unterscheidung bei Bernhard von Clairvaux,” Studia monastica 43:2 (2001): 297–313, and Dominique Bertrand, “Le discernement bernardin: Entre les pères du désert et Ignace de Loyola,” Collectanea cisterciensia 64:1 (2002): 5–16. 97

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angels, and (finally) the monk’s own spirit. “Since there are many kinds of spirits, discernment [discretio] among them is necessary for us,” he points out, “especially since we are taught by the Apostle not to believe all spirits.” 101 Bernard suggests that it is possible to tell good from evil spirits under certain conditions: when a monk has steeped himself in “punishing his body, humiliating his heart, striving for unity, and demonstrating charity to the brothers, as well as acquiring other virtues,” and when he then experiences a salvific (salubris) thought, he may “conclude without doubt that it is the Spirit who speaks, either through himself or through his angel.” 102 Nevertheless, Bernard warns, “it is not easy to discern [discernere] who speaks, nor to ignore the danger.” 103 In the next sermon, he reminds his audience that “it is necessary to recall to your care the discernment of spirits,” which must battle against serpents, sirens, obdurate hearts, spirits of the flesh and of the world, spirits of evil, and the everpopular angel of Satan disguised as an angel of light. 104 Here Bernard offers more general, but even less helpful, advice: “they are discerned easily by divine wisdom.” 105 One of the Sermones super Cantica canticorum also advises the monk to search his own heart to distinguish between internal and diabolic temptations, but Bernard adds that “I believe this is not possible for any mortal unless he is especially illuminated by the Holy Spirit and accepts that gift which the Apostle … called discernment of spirits.” 106 From this much, one might deduce that Bernard is following Bernard of Clairvaux Sermones de diversis, in Sancti Bernardi Opera, eds. J. Leclerq and H.M. Rochais (Rome: Editionae Cisterciensis, 1957–77), 6:178–83. The quote is Sermo 23.2: “Sed quia spirituum diversa sunt genera, necessaria est nobis eorum discretio, praesertim cum ab Apostolo didicerimus non omni spiritui esse credendum (600). Bernard is effortlessly combining allusions to 1 Cor. 12:10 and 1 John 4:1. 102 Ibid., Sermo 23.5: “Quoties vero super castigando corpore, humiliando corde, servanda unitate, et caritate fratribus exhibenda, seu ceteris virtutibus acquirendis … salubris cogitatio in mente versatur, divinus sine dubio Spiritus est qui loquitur, aut per seipsum sane, aut per angelum suum.” 103 Ibid. “nec facile est quis loquatur discernere, nec ignorare periculosum.” 104 Sermo de diversis 24, in Sancti Bernardi Opera 6:183–6; the two sermons are linked by an initial reference to “hesterno sermone,” immediately followed by this quote from Sermo 24.1: “necessaria est, discretione spirituum admonuerimus sollicitudinem vestram.” Bernard’s scriptural references in the remainder of this passage are too numerous to mention here, but his citation of 2 Cor. 11:14 is certainly noticeable. 105 Ibid.: “a divina sapientia facile discernantur.” 106 Sermo super Cantica canticorum 32.6, in Sancti Bernardi Opera 1:229: “Ego nulli hoc mortalium possibile puto, nisique illuminatus a Spiritu Sancto speciale accepit donum illud quod Apostolus … nominat discretionem spirituum.” (Bernard’s turn of phrase in the previous sentence is worth preserving, as he advises his audience that each one may “discernat inter morbum mentis et morsum serpentis.”) 101

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Cassian in collapsing the categories of monastic discretio and discretio spirituum, but clearly placing both within a monastic context. 107 In another sermon, however, Bernard invokes discretio spirituum as something completely different: a method of distinguishing between two varieties of operatio sancti Spiritus. Bernard argues that monks who can distinguish between spiritual gifts intended for their own use (e.g., compunction, devotion, understanding) and those for the use or edification of others (e.g., words of knowledge or wisdom) demonstrate “that gift of the Holy Spirit, which is called the discernment of spirits.” 108 In this reading, the process of discretio spirituum involves discerning between different classes of spiritual gifts rather than internal or external spirits. Again, discernment of spirits is placed in a monastic context, but here it seems to be even further internalized. Bernard’s notion of discretio spirituum as a sort of “meta-charism,” or a spiritual gift that operates on all other spiritual gifts, does not appear to have any immediate patristic warrant, nor was it widely cited in later literature. If anything, it is distinguished by its studied avoidance of that most troublesome gift, prophecy, which would logically have fit into the category of gifts for the edification of others. 109 It is also distinguished by its relative creativity. Beginning in the eleventh century, the interpretation of Scripture and the development of theology began to move further away from patristic models. Robert Lerner has pointed out that the early twelfth century also sees the first instances of path-breaking exegetes who claimed – as Bernard most certainly did not – that their novel interpretations were the result of direct inspiration from God. 110

In fact, Bernard mentions discretio at several other points in his writings as a virtue which abbots and other ecclesiastics should possess, in the best Benedictine tradition. Cf., among others, Sermo de diversis 26, Sermones super Cantica 33 and 79, and De consideratione 2.20. Additional instances are cited in McGinn, “Hildegard of Bingen,” cf. infra, 335 n. 40. 108 Bernard, Sermo de diversis 88, in Sancti Bernardi Opera 1:333–5; the quote is Sermo 88.6: “Ita sane obtinebimus illud Spiritus Sancti donum, quod vocatur discretio spirituum, si et ea quae nobis tantum congruunt, nobis reservemus, et ea quae ad aliorum utilitatem conferuntur, nobis largiamur et proximis.” (The problem with confusing these categories of gift, Bernard explains, is that sharing the personal ones can result in a loss of humility, while not sharing the communal ones can result in a loss of charity.) 109 Throughout all these sermons, Bernard ignores Augustine’s and Ambrosiaster’s contributions to the issue of discernment of spirits, although he shows familiarity with their work in other contexts. Either of these authors would have reminded Bernard of the link between prophecy (especially visionary prophecy) and discernment of spirits. 110 Robert Lerner, “Ecstatic Dissent: Unorthodox Bible Criticism in the High Middle Ages,” Speculum 67 (1992): 34–42 on Robert of Liège (also known as Rupert of Deutz) and Joachim of Fiore. 107

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Twelfth-Century Prophecy and Reform Bernard’s diffuse and relatively theoretical discussions of discretio spirituum were characteristic of the twelfth century. During that century, however, movements were taking place which would encourage a new – and decidedly practical – thirteenth- and fourteenth-century discourse about discretio spirituum, including rules for “testing spirits.” This shift came in response to a series of changes in the types of authority claimed by different groups within Christendom. First, and most obvious, was the continuing development of the spiritual ideals put forward by the Gregorian Reform. Richard Southern has summarized the Reform in standard terms as a program of “total papal sovereignty in all the affairs of the Christian community,” but it is also crucial to note the Reform’s emphasis on a monasticized clergy set apart from the laity. 111 Although the Reform proper is usually thought to have ended by 1122 at the latest, it bred supporters who continued to solidify and extend the authority of the papally led church hierarchy throughout the twelfth century. The Church defined its rights against those of secular princes and competing protonational bureaucracies, against theologians whose teachings conflicted with its emerging self-understanding, and against groups identified as outside the pale of Christendom (heretics, Jews, etc.). 112 Some reformers went too far and found themselves branded as heretics; others remained just this side of ecclesiastical obedience and founded religious communities or entire new orders such as the Premonstratensians, Carthusians, Franciscans, or Dominicans. The Church promulgated its agenda not only through these new orders and through the output of the papal bureaucracy, but through a series of reforming councils. It is customary to identify the papacy of Innocent III (1198–1216) as the apogee of papal power and ecclesiastical centralization, and the clearest statement of the Church’s program at the beginning of the thirteenth century came from the Fourth Lateran Council of 1215. In its opening canon, this council emphasized the linkage of Catholic unity and doctrinal orthodoxy with the sacrament of the Eucharist and the properly ordained priesthood: Richard W. Southern, Western Society and the Church in the Middle Ages (London: Penguin, 1970), 102. 112 There is a vast scholarly literature on each of these topics, but one might begin with Herbert Grundmann, Religiöse Bewegungen im Mittelalter, translated by Steven Rowan as Religious Movements in the Middle Ages (Notre Dame, IN: University of Notre Dame Press, 1995); and R.I. Moore’s The Origins of European Dissent (London: Allen Lane, 1977) and The Formation of a Persecuting Society (Oxford: Basil Blackwell, 1987). 111

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There is one true universal church of the faithful outside of which none at all are saved. In this same [church] Jesus Christ himself is priest and sacrifice, whose body and blood are truly contained in the sacrament of the altar… And this sacrament no one can confer except a priest who has been duly ordained according to the keys of the church, which Jesus Christ himself gave over to the apostles and their successors. 113

The canons of Fourth Lateran dogmatized the division of Latin Christendom into an authorized (male) clergy and a laity for whom there was little clear role; in fact, they discouraged the formation of new orders in terms that were to be repeated regularly up through Trent. 114 Yet the ideals of the reform – especially its devotion to personal holiness and the “apostolic life” – continued to affect laity as well as clergy. Lay Christians sought involvement in religious life in larger numbers and more varied ways than ever before at the dawn of the thirteenth century. A closely related development is the so-called “new mysticism.” Bernard McGinn has characterized this as a “flood of visionary narratives, especially by and about women, that begin to appear shortly after 1200. Many of these texts contain descriptions of direct encounters with Jesus that signal a new form of mystical consciousness, or mystical knowing – more direct, more excessive, more bodily in nature than older forms.” 115 These narratives often tended to come from individuals who were placed (or had placed themselves) significantly outside the church hierarchy in some way. Whether they affiliated with an informal religious community such as a beguinage, clung to chaste marriages or other unusual living arrangements, joined a mendicant third order once that option became available, wrote in vernacular languages instead of Latin, or simply lacked the necessary biological equipment for ordination as a priest, the “new Lateran IV, Canon 1, De fide catholica: “Una vero est fidelium universalis ecclesia, extra quam nullus omnino salvatur, in qua idem ipse sacerdos et sacrificium Iesus Christus, cuius corpus et sanguis in sacramento altaris sub speciebus panis et vini veraciter continentur …. Et hoc utique sacramentum nemo potest conficere, nisi sacerdos, qui fuerit rite ordinatus secundum claves ecclesiae, quas ipse concessit apostolis et eorum successoribus Iesus Christus,” in Norman Tanner, ed. and trans., Decrees of the Ecumenical Councils (Washington, DC: Georgetown University Press, 1990), 1:230. 114 Cf Lateran IV, Canon 13, De novis religionibus prohibitis, in Tanner, Decrees, 1:242. Cf. also Giles Constable, “The Diversity of Religious Life and Acceptance of Social Pluralism in the Twelfth Century,” in History, Society, and the Churches: Essays in Honor of Owen Chadwick, ed. D. Beales and G. Best (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1985), 29–47. 115 Bernard McGinn, The Flowering of Mysticism: Men and Women in the New Mysticism, 1200–1350 (New York: Crossroad, 1998), 25. McGinn very properly points out that not all these visions are or were “mystical” in nature, according to any responsible definition of the term “mysticism” – hence my preference for the more neutral terms “vision” and “visionary.” 113

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mystics” existed in an ambiguous position in relation to the priest-led Church described by Fourth Lateran. In this context, visions or other unusual spiritual consolations were a double-edged sword. They might authorize the visionary to teach publicly, receive the Eucharist, and perform other actions usually reserved for the church hierarchy, but they also opened him or her to increased scrutiny. Beginning in the thirteenth century, McGinn has traced a growing unease with visions in general and women’s visions in particular. 116 An even more controversial claim to alternative authority came from individuals who identified themselves as “prophets,” although the lines between prophet, visionary, and inspired exegete were blurred from the beginning of Christianity and certainly throughout the early Middle Ages. 117 The Gregorian Reform brought prophets onto the sociopolitical stage of Christendom again for the first time since Montanism: the first medieval prophet known throughout Latin Christendom was the visionary abbess and reformer Hildegard of Bingen (1098–1179), widely accepted as the “Sibyl of the Rhine.” 118 Hildegard believed that the ongoing struggles between papacy and empire signaled the beginning of a “time of trouble” which would climax in apocalyptic disaster and final redemption. Perhaps more to the point, Hildegard’s prophecies were indissolubly linked to her visions, and these prophecies were said to have been accepted and disseminated by eminent personages such as Bernard of Clairvaux and his pupil Pope Eugenius III. 119 Hildegard’s Vita and other contemporary documents record doubters who questioned the likelihood of revelation through an uneducated woman and wondered whether she had been seduced by evil spirits. Perhaps as a reflection of these charges, Hildegard’s own writings exhibit a healthy regard for her inspiration and warn that editing her visions constitutes a sin against the Holy Spirit. 120 Like Adomnán in the Life of Columba, Hildegard also distinguished among her own visionary experiences, repeating the Augustinian distinction between spiritual and Cf. McGinn, “Visions and Critiques of Visions.” Cf. McGinn, “Prophetic Power,” and Niels Christian Hvidt, Christian Prophecy: The Post-Biblical Tradition (New York: Oxford University Press, 2007). 118 The literature on Hildegard is extensive and ongoing, but good starting points include Barbara Newman’s Sister of Wisdom: St. Hildegard’s Theology of the Feminine (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1987) and Anne H. King-Lenzmeier’s Hildegard of Bingen: An Integrated Vision (Collegeville, MN: Liturgical Press, 2001). 119 These reports were often exaggerated; cf. Laurence Moulinier, “Et Papa Libros Ejus Canonizavit: Réflexions sur l’orthodoxie des écrits de Hildegarde de Bingen,” in Orthodoxie, Christianisme, Histoire, ed. Susanna Elm et al. (Rome: École française de Rome, 2000), 177–98. 120 B. Newman, “Hildegard of Bingen: Visions and Validation,” Church History 54 (1985): 163–75. 116 117

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intellectual visions. 121 Ultimately, Hildegard was accepted: her prophecies joined those of the Bible, the Sibyls, and shadowy figures such as Merlin and Methodius in the prophetic repertoire available to would-be medieval interpreters. Indeed, André Vauchez has argued that Hildegard’s notoriety helped to spark “une redécouverte de la notion de prophétie” along with a sustained theological effort to define what prophecy meant. 122 Along with Hildegard, the other great prophetic figure of the late twelfth century was Joachim of Fiore (c. 1135–1202), the Calabrian abbot whose revolutionary understandings of Scripture and human history had a profound impact on the remainder of the Middle Ages. 123 Joachim, whose great insights derived from two separate visionary experiences on his own account, did not identify himself as a prophet. In response to a Cistercian questioner, Joachim explained that he did not predict the future through conjecture or prophecy, but that “God who once gave the spirit of prophecy to the prophets has given me the spirit of understanding, so that I may very clearly understand all the mysteries of holy Scripture in God’s Spirit, just as the holy prophets understood who once recorded it in God’s Spirit.” 124 Most of Joachim’s exegetical methods derived from his belief in a fundamental concordance between the Old and New Testaments and a Trinitarian structure of the universe, leading to various numerical permutations of twos and threes throughout history. So, for instance, he understood human history as divided into both three eras or statuses (corresponding to the members of the Trinity, with humanity currently on the verge of the advent of Antichrist inaugurating the full status of the Spirit) and seven aetates in each Testament (corresponding to the days of creation, with Hildegard’s self-authorizing strategies are described in detail in Bernard McGinn, “Hildegard of Bingen as Visionary and Exegete,” in Hildegard von Bingen in ihrem historischen Umfeld, ed. A. Reverchon (Mainz: Philipp von Zabern, 2000), 327–33. 122 Vauchez, “Le prophétisme médiéval d’Hildegarde de Bingen à Savonarole,” in Saints, prophètes et visionnaires: Le pouvoir surnaturel au Moyen Age (Paris: Albin Michel, 1999), 117ff. 123 The classic work on Joachim and his heirs is still Marjorie Reeves, The Influence of Prophecy in the Later Middle Ages: A Study in Joachism (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1969). On Joachim himself, cf. Bernard McGinn’s The Calabrian Abbot: Joachim of Fiore in the History of Western Thought (New York: Macmillan, 1985), and the more recent G.L. Potestà, Il tempo dell’Apocalisse, Vita di Gioacchino da Fiore (Rome/Bari: Laterza, 2004). The present study is concerned primarily with Joachism rather than Joachim himself and so gives the latter relatively short shrift. 124 Ralph of Coggeshall, Chronicon Anglicanum 1195, in Radulphi de Coggeshall Chronicon Anglicanum, ed. J. Stevenson (London: Longman, 1875), 68: “Sed deus, inquit, qui olim dedit prophetis spiritum prophetiae, mihi dedit spiritum intelligentiae, ut in Dei spiritu omnia mysteria sacrae Scripturae clarissime intelligam, sicut sancti prophetae intellexerunt qui eam olim in Dei spiritu ediderunt.” 121

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humanity currently late in the Fifth Age of the New Testament and preparing for a chaotic Sixth Age before the final, universal sabbath). According to Joachim, the transition between the second and third statuses would feature two new orders of “spiritual men” who would work to defeat Antichrist as well as the false prophets and unholy kings who would precede him. The status of the Spirit itself would be characterized by an upsurge in spiritual gifts, including spiritual understanding. Despite this radical historical vision, Joachim was deeply conservative in many respects, and he emphasized obedience to the pope like any good Gregorian reformer. Before his death in 1202, Joachim wrote a Testament submitting all his work – three major treatises and more than a dozen shorter writings – for papal approval. While the Fourth Lateran Council found time to condemn certain of Joachim’s more technical views on the Trinity (where Joachim had been attempting to correct Peter Lombard), it cited the Testament and explicitly avoided any condemnation of Joachim’s person. Joachim’s eschatological writings and their elaborate exegetical framework remained untouched. In fact, they continued to gain in popularity, with Joachim’s predictions about the papal-imperial conflict and the advent of Antichrist coming to the fore. Although Joachim himself had been careful to avoid the mantle of prophecy, his posthumous readers exhibited no such concern. Even before the Fourth Lateran Council, authors such as Sicard of Cremona identified Joachim as “having the spirit of prophecy.” 125 Many pseudo-Joachite works sprung up in the first half of the thirteenth century, some of them accurately (if retroactively!) predicting events which took place after Joachim’s death, and early supporters credited him with a vision of God the Father on Mt. Tabor. 126 Scattered historical evidence of doubters notwithstanding, neither Hildegard nor Joachim were asked to formally “prove” that they were true prophets, or that their respective inspirations truly came from God. This was just as well, since the mechanisms for such validation were not especially well-defined, if they existed at all. Beyond the hints at Augustinian categories which Hildegard offered, there were no specific guidelines on which she or her twelfth-century contemporaries could draw to prove or disprove their prophetic status. A striking example of this quandary appears in an episode from the Liber visionum of Hildegard’s protégée Sicard is cited in Reeves, Influence, 40: “qui spiritum habuit prophetandi.” For more on the early spread of Joachim’s reputation, cf. Reeves and M. Bloomfield, “The Penetration of Joachism into Northern Europe,” Speculum 43 (1954): 772–93. 126 On the efflorescence of pseudo-Joachite works, cf. Reeves, Influence, esp. 518–33. On the Mt. Tabor vision, which was probably apocryphal, cf. McGinn, Visions of the End: Apocalyptic Traditions in the Middle Ages (New York: Columbia University Press, 1979), 315 n. 26. 125

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Elisabeth of Schönau (1129–65). Elisabeth is required to promise a suspicious magister that, when her usual angel appears, she will “adjure him … through the name of the Lord to reveal to me whether he was a true angel of God or not.” Elisabeth does so, invoking the entire Trinity, and the angel immediately replies: “Know for certain that I am a true angel of God, and that the visions you have seen are true and the things you have heard from my mouth are true and will truly happen unless God is reconciled to the human race.” Elisabeth’s angel is then offended, appearing with his back to her until she apologizes and arranges for the entire monastery to celebrate a Mass in honor of the angels! 127 There is no record of how the magister felt after this episode, but it seems clear that he possessed no way of authenticating Elisabeth’s visions except through her. Moreover, the angel was obviously unused to such magisterial treatment. In this account there are simply no outside criteria for judging whether Elisabeth’s visions are true or false, and the mere idea of such a judgment is portrayed as unexpected. However, Elisabeth’s dilemma also points out the growing tension between “masters” and visionaries, or between the view of the institutional Church enshrined in the Fourth Lateran Council and the many Christians who would not or could not join the priesthood but who sought some form of religious life and more immediate experiences of God’s presence. After twelve centuries, visionaries and prophets had finally achieved enough prominence and influence in Latin Christendom to concern everyone from the visionaries themselves to their confessors, abbots, and bishops. Even the theologians and canon lawyers at the new universities became involved in the debate. From the outset of the thirteenth century, all these parties began to seek a better method for distinguishing between genuine emissaries of God and their imitators or opposites. Looking back with historical hindsight, it seems clear that the concept of discernment of spirits, especially in its Augustinian connection with prophetic vision, was one possible solution to this quandary. As it turned out, more than two hundred years of negotiation and experimentation would transform the late medieval understanding of discernment of spirits beyond anything Origen, Augustine, or Cassian could have imagined. Elisabeth of Schönau, Liber visionum 3.19; Die Visionen der heiligen Elisabeth… ed. F.W.E. Roth (Brünn: Verlag der Studien aus dem Benedictiner-und-Cistercienser Order, 1884), 72: “per nomen domini illum adiurarem, quatinus indicaret mihi, utrum verus dei angelus esset, an non.… Scias pro certo, quia verus angelus dei sum, et vere sunt visiones, quas vidisti, et que de ore meo audisti, vera sunt et vere fient, nisi reconcilietur deus hominibus.” There is an excellent translation in Elisabeth of Schönau: The Complete Works, trans. Anne L. Clark (Mahwah, NJ: Paulist Press, 2000), 139. See also Barbara Newman’s reading of this episode in “Hildegard,” 174–5. 127

Chapter Two

Spiritual Understanding: New Orders and New Mysticisms Cum ex iniuncto and Canon Law Given the growing popularity of contemporary prophets and visionaries, it is no surprise that parties within the institutional Church might feel the need for some sort of restraint on a form of authorized discourse which so clearly bypassed the clerical, sacramental, and bureaucratic focus we usually associate with its Fourth Lateran Council program. The first indication of such a move comes in 1199, in a letter sent to the clergy of Metz by Innocent III and beginning with the words Cum ex iniuncto. As it turns out, Innocent’s main concern has to do with vernacular Bible translations which are being made and circulated in Metz: using these, he warns, “many laymen and women” are meeting in secret conventicles, usurping the right to preach, and falling into all sorts of heretical error. 1 The letter spends some time establishing the need for orthodox evangelists to preach openly and in public, and then moves on to the thornier issue of who can claim the right to preach. Citing Eph. 4:11, Innocent acknowledges that God intends some Christians to act as apostles, some as prophets, some as teachers; however, nobody is entitled to preach simply because they claim to be sent by God. In fact, Innocent states, “It does not suffice if someone merely asserts that he is sent by God, since any heretic can assert this; but he should demonstrate this invisible sending by working miracles or by the special witness of the Scriptures.” 2 Here Innocent adduces the examples of John the Baptist and Moses, who are clearly identified in Scripture as “sent by God”: John’s advent was predicted by the prophet Isaiah, and Moses was certified in the eyes of his people by his ability to perform miracles

Innocent III, Cum ex iniuncto, in Die Register Innocenz’ III, ed. Othmar Hagender et al. (Vienna: Verlag der Österreichischen Academie, 1979) 2:271: “laicorum et mulierum multitudo.” 2 Ibid., 273: “non sufficit cuiquam nude tantum asserere quod ipse sit missus a Deo, cum hoc quilibet haereticus asseveret, sed oportet, ut astruat illam invisibilem missionem per operationem miraculi vel per Scripture testimonium speciale.” 1

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such as changing his staff to a serpent and back again. 3 “Therefore,” Innocent concludes, “one must not believe somebody who says he is sent by God while he has not been sent by man, unless he can offer special witnesses about himself from the Scriptures, or can perform obvious miracles.” 4 Unlike Elisabeth of Schönau’s community, Innocent places the burden of proof quite squarely on the self-proclaimed apostle, prophet, or teacher. 5 He is not interested in visions or revelations per se, and he is not concerned about preachers of heretical doctrine; the Metz situation probably involved early Waldensians, whose messages were mostly orthodox. 6 By phrasing the question in terms of being “sent by God,” however, Innocent frames his inquiry so broadly that he provides the earliest set of guidelines for distinguishing between true and false prophecy in the post-Augustinian Church. This does not seem to have been Innocent’s intent; in fact, both his letter and a follow-up concentrate on the proper roles of priests and teachers, along with the problem of unauthorized vernacular Bible translations. 7 Yet there is a hint of discretio spirituum as a charism (belonging to clerics ex officio, in an echo of Ambrosiaster) which can somehow help prelates to distinguish among those who claim to be “sent by God.” At the beginning of Cum ex iniuncto, Innocent describes the duty of clerics to separate virtue from vice and points out that “this work requires greater discretio, since vices creep in secretly under the semblance of virtues, and an angel of Satan can transform himself into an angel of light [2 Cor. 11:14].” 8 Given the strong patristic association of this verse with discretio Ibid. Ibid.: “Non est ergo credendum ei qui se dicit missum a Deo, cum non sit missus ab homine, nisi de se speciale proferat testimonium de Scripturis, vel evidens miraculum operetur.” 5 Cf. the discussion of Elisabeth of Schönau in Chapter One. 6 On the probable identification of Innocent’s unlicensed preachers with the Waldensian community at Metz, cf. Malcolm Lambert, Medieval Heresy: Popular Movements from the Gregorian Reform to the Reformation, 2nd ed. (Oxford: Blackwell Publishers, 1992), 73 and 76. 7 Innocent III, Cum ex iniuncto, in Hagender, Die Register, 2:274–6. For example, on 274, Innocent cites James 3:1 and mentions the tradition of holy men “ab inicio nascentis ecclesie…contenti sint doceri potius quam docere” to support his contention that there should be relatively few teachers for the Christian flock and therefore no need for wide distribution of vernacular translations of Scripture. Cf. Leonard Boyle, “Innocent III and vernacular versions of Scripture,” in The Bible in the Medieval World, eds. K. Walsh and D. Wood (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1985), 97–107. 8 Innocent III, Cum ex iniuncto, in Hagender, Die Register, 2:271: “Tunc autem opus est discretione maiori, cum vicia sub specie virtutum oculte subintrant et angelus Sathane se in angelum lucis simulate transformat.” 3 4

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spirituum and the context of distinguishing between virtue and vice, a very plausible translation of discretio here is “discernment” rather than simply “discretion.” However, Innocent’s original intention is not certain, since he never refers to discretio or probatio spirituum, much less any of the patristic authorities on the subject. What is more certain about Cum ex iniuncto is its reception history: Innocent included it in a compilation of legal decisions he considered authoritative in 1210, and it passed into canon law in the Decretales collected under Pope Gregory IX between 1230 and 1234 – specifically, the section dealing with heretics. 9 The Decretales were sent to universities ranging from Bologna to Paris, and theologians as well as canon lawyers were familiar with many of its passages. The Decretales also spawned its own commentary tradition, but relatively little attention was devoted to Cum ex iniuncto as a possible source for investigating claims of divine inspiration. Gottofredo da Trani, writing in the early 1240s, effectively ignores this aspect of Cum ex iniuncto, although he does include among six types of heretics the Joachite-like category of “whoever understands Scripture in a sense other than what is written, which the Holy Spirit forces on him.” 10 The famous commentator Hostiensis mostly followed Gottofredo’s lead in Hostiensis’ own hugely popular Summa aurea (finished around 1253), which concentrated its treatment of Cum ex iniuncto on jurisdictional issues and the respective roles of laity, priests, and scholars when it came to preaching. However, Hostiensis does repeat Innocent’s requirement of miracles or scriptural testimony, and he asserts that unless one of these qualities is present, “one should not be admitted to preach who says that he has seen God sending him forth in dreams, even though this mission would transcend all others if it corresponded to this [description].” 11 In Hostiensis’ Commentum super decretalibus, completed before The 1210 compilatio text of Cum ex iniuncto appears in B. Tauchnitz, Quinque compilationes antiquae: nec non collectio canonum Lipsiensis (reprint edition Graz: Akademische Druck-U. Verlagsanstalt, 1956), 130. The Decretales text is in E. Friedberg, Corpus iuris canonici (Leipzig: Bernhard Tauchnitz, 1879–8) 2:784–7. In both cases, Cum ex iniuncto appears under the title De haereticis. 10 Gottofredo da Trani (Goffredus Tranensis), Summa super titulis Decretalium, facsimile of the Lyons 1517 ed. (Aalen: Scientia Verlag, 1992), 206: “quicunque aliter scripturam intelligit quam sensus Spiritus Sancti flagitat a quo scripta est.” On dating decretalist commentaries and on the tradition more generally, cf. Kenneth Pennington, “Medieval Canonists: A Bio-Bibliographical Listing,” accessed May 26, 2011, http://faculty.cua.edu/pennington/biobibl.htm. 11 Hostiensis (Cardinal Henricus de Segusio), Summa aurea, facsimile of the 1537 Lyons ed. (Aalen: Scientia Verlag, 1962), 239: “Item ad predicandum non admittitur aliquis quamvis dicat se vidisse Deum in somniis que mittit eum licet hec missio si de ipsa constaret omnes alios superaret.” 9

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his death in 1271, he seems to have dropped the hint of visionary activity, but he does recognize the difficulties with Innocent’s formula: “Since miracles occur through evil people and sinners … therefore before [someone] is added to the faith, [his] life and miracles must be inquired about. And afterwards [he] should be referred to the apostolic see, which may reject or confirm this.” 12 Fourteenth-century commentators cited Hostiensis but added even less to this tradition: there is nothing new on this aspect of Cum ex iniuncto in the commentaries of Johannes Andreae or Antonius de Butrio, or in the standard gloss on the Decretales. 13 On the other hand, Cum ex iniuncto seems to have been relatively well-known among theologians, perhaps because its themes of who should preach and teach church doctrine were immediately relevant to their lives. The canon is cited in many of the works covered by this study, including the thirteenth-century treatises of William of Saint-Amour and Peter Olivi, the fourteenth-century writings of Alfonso Pecha and Pierre d’Ailly, and the fifteenth-century synthesis of Jean Gerson. Remarkably, however, the presence of this canon and Hostiensis’ commentary did nothing to slow theological debate on what would seem to be a redundant topic: how could one distinguish between true and false revelations, and who was supposed to make this distinction? In retrospect, it seems possible that Innocent had begun to marshal the concept of discerning spirits as a way to reinforce the institutional Church’s authority over the oncoming influx of self-proclaimed prophets and visionaries. But Cum ex iniuncto opened rather than closed the medieval debate on authenticating prophecies or visions, perhaps because both miracles and scriptural proofs were themselves so difficult to authenticate. In fact, the canon made up only one part of a larger polemic in response to a series of controversies involving Joachism, the mendicant orders, and new concerns about false prophets around the middle of the thirteenth century.

12 Hostiensis, Commentum super decretalibus (aka Lectura), facsimile of the 1581 Venice ed. (Torino: Bottega d’Erasmo, 1965), 37: “Sed nec miraculo statim credendum est, quia et quandoque per malos et peccatores miracula fiunt.… Ideoque antequam fides adhibeatur, de vita et miraculis diligenter est inquirendum. Et postea referendum sedi apostolice, quae hoc reprobet vel confirmet.” 13 The fourteenth century did see the introduction of some potentially relevant new material in the Clementines, a collection of canons mostly from the 1311–2 Council of Vienne which were published as an addendum to the Decretales by Clement V’s successor John XXII in 1317. Chapter Three will address the decrees of Vienne and their aftermath, but not their implications for canon law.

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The Eternal Evangel and the Secular-Mendicant Controversy It was natural enough that Joachim’s writings, both genuine and apocryphal, found strong supporters among the second generation of Friars Minor. For one thing, Joachim’s prediction of two new orders – one of contemplative hermits, one of preachers – seemed to have been fulfilled with the Franciscans and Dominicans, and so it made sense for these orders to display some affinity for Joachim’s thought. 14 A succession of pseudoJoachite works, most famously the Super Hieremiam (c. 1240), had stressed the fulfillment of this prediction; they also tended to improve Joachim’s reputation by having him accurately (if retroactively!) “predict” other events of the early thirteenth century. 15 In the 1240s and 1250s, groups of Franciscans had begun to study Joachim with an eye towards appropriating him for the Franciscan Order, but their efforts were derailed when the Franciscan theology student Gerard of Borgo San Donnino distributed his 1254 Introductorius in Evangelium Aeternum. 16 It seems that Gerard had intended to publish Joachim’s three major works – the Liber concordie, the Expositio in Apocalypsim, and the Psalterium decem chordarum – as the “Eternal Evangel,” the Testament belonging to the Age of the Spirit, together with Gerard’s own introduction and gloss. 17 Unfortunately, no copies of Gerard’s introduction have survived, but the existing lists of errors and excerpts note Gerard’s proclamation of the imminent status of the Spirit; his insistence that the “spirit of life” had moved from the Old and New Testaments into the Eternal Evangel around the year 1200; the concurrent movement away from the active life of clerics to the contemplative life of monks and especially friars; the identification of The clearest example is the joint letter published by John of Parma and Humbert of Romans, masters general of the Franciscan and Dominican Orders respectively, in 1255: it asserted that Christ had raised up these two new orders in the final days before the Apocalypse in order to help save the world and used numerous Joachite images (without, however, citing Joachim directly, perhaps due to some of the other events in the year 1255 as mentioned below). Cf. Reeves, Influence, 146ff. 15 There is still disagreement about whether Super Hieremiam can be attributed to a Franciscan or a Cistercian author; cf. Reeves, Influence, 145–60, and idem, “The Abbot Joachim’s Disciples and the Cistercian Order,” Sophia 19 (1951): 355–71. Robert Moynihan suggests an original version by Joachim in “Development of the ‘PseudoJoachim’ Commentary ‘super Hieremiam’: New Manuscript Evidence.” Mélanges de l’école française de Rome: Moyen Age, Temps Modernes 98 (1986): 109–42. 16 On the early Franciscan involvement with Joachim, see the summary in McGinn, “Apocalyptic Traditions and Spiritual Identity in Thirteenth-Century Religious Life,” in The Roots of the Modern Christian Tradition, ed. E. Rozanne Elder (Kalamazoo, Mich.: Cistercian Publications, 1984), 7–11. 17 Of course, the idea of an “eternal gospel” derives from Rev. 14:6. 14

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Joachim with the man in linen (Dan. 12:7) and of Francis of Assisi with the angel of the sixth seal “rising from the east, bearing the sign of the living God” (Rev. 7:2), both ushering in the third status; and the idea that this Evangel had been especially entrusted to a barefoot order proceeding from both clergy and laity. 18 This eschatological elevation of the mendicant orders would have been dubious at the best of times, but in the 1250s Gerard’s speculation landed squarely in the middle of a long-brewing dispute over chairs and status among the “secular” and mendicant theologians at the University of Paris. With the mendicant orders working to control the damage, Gerard’s work was promptly condemned by a papal commission in 1255 along with Joachim, who had “invented these new and false opinions … in order to exalt this same order incredibly and unseasonably above other orders, indeed above the entire Church.” 19 In retrospect, the Franciscan chronicler Salimbene concluded, Gerard must have been deceived by the devil when “out of foolishness he thought to compose a little book, and he divulged his stupidity by distributing it among some ignorant brothers.” 20 Thanks to the secular-mendicant controversy, the distribution of Gerard’s book went well beyond the Franciscan Order, but so too did his underlying notions about the importance of prophecy amidst the final era of world history. In March of 1256, in what some scholars have seen as a response to the Introductorius, the outspokenly anti-mendicant Parisian master William of Saint-Amour issued his own “little book,” De periculis novissimorum temporum, in which he too deployed Joachite ideas in order to argue that the friars were actually the false prophets associated with the oncoming

Cf. Reeves, Influence, 187–8, and the extremely clear summary in David Burr, Olivi’s Peaceable Kingdom: A Reading of the Apocalypse Commentary (Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press, 1993), 14–21. 19 Protocol of the Anagni Commission, in ALKG 1:115: “iste novas et falsas opiniones confingat … ut exaltet huiusmodi ordinem incredibiliter et intempestive super alios ordines, immo super totam ecclesiam.” In a provincial synod in 1263, Florentius, the anti-Joachite bishop of Arles who had already presented suspect passages to the Anagni commission, forbade the use of Joachim’s writings and attacked the doctrine of three statuses with special attention to their supercessionist implications. Cf. Reeves, Influence, 65–70, on the decline of Joachim’s orthodox reputation at this point. 20 Salimbene, Chronicon, ed. Giuseppe Scalia, Cronica (Bari: Gius, Laterza & Figli, 1966), 341: “excogitavit fatuitatem componendo libellum et divulgavit stultitiam suam propalando ipsum ignorantibus fratribus.” Cf. also 664 on Gerard’s having been deceived by the devil (including an allusion to 2 Cor. 11:14). An excellent English translation from the Scalia text is J.L. Baird et al., The Chronicle of Salimbene de Adam (Binghamton, NY: Center for Medieval & Early Renaissance Studies, 1986). 18

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end times. 21 William’s work was condemned in turn in October 1256, but unlike the Introductorius the De periculis did survive in more than fifty manuscripts, 22 and it clearly shows the deployment of Cum ex iniuncto in the context of identifying false prophets. William begins from the assumption that “it is clear that the dangers of the last times are not far remote…. Therefore we are in the final age of this world.” 23 He even includes the publication of Gerard’s Introductorius (“that accursed book”) among the signs of these last times. 24 Of course, he draws on the range of New Testament passages which associate these “last times” with false prophets, but William’s prophets are actually interpreters of Scripture (not an inappropriate description for followers of Joachim), 25 which conveniently makes William himself a prophet and the mendicant theologians pseudoprophetae. Thus, William’s many (and oft-repeated) indications of false prophecy are almost all unique to the secularmendicant controversy: his false prophets pretend to piety and good deeds; beg for sustenance despite being able to work; preach and teach using unnecessarily elevated language; flatter laypeople, criticize their regular pastors; and pry into Christians’ homes to lead women, and then men, astray. This last charge, repeated no fewer than seven times in the De periculis, 26 serves double duty as an allusion to the development of the mendicants’ third orders and as a criticism of the newly pro-mendicant On William’s use of pseudo-Joachim, cf. Reeves, Joachim of Fiore and the Prophetic Future: A Medieval Study in Historical Thinking, rev. ed. (Phoenix Mill: Sutton Publishing Ltd., 1999), 33–4. The best summary of William’s anti-mendicant polemic and its historical context is Penn Szittya, The Antifraternal Tradition in Medieval Literature (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1986), 11–61. 22 This figure comes from the recent edition and translation of Guy Geltner, William of Saint-Amour: De periculis novissimorum temporum (Leuven: Peeters, 2008), 29. It is not a critical edition but relies on the central manuscript tradition of early printed editions and will be used for subsequent citations. 23 William of Saint-Amour, De periculis 8, in Geltner, 76–77: “scilicet, quod non longe remota sunt illa pericula novissimorum temporum…. Ergo nos sumus in ultima etate huius mundi.” 24 Ibid., Geltner, 76–9 (“illo maledicto libro” is on 78). William seems to approve the standard Joachite calculation – which he cites from the Introductorius – that the next status would begin in 1260. 25 William sets this equivalency out in his prologue (Geltner, 38), where he writes that “vacantes scripturis ex exponentes eas ‘videntes’ merito dici possunt, cum et ipsi in eisdem literis ‘prophete’ dicantur” before citing the Glossa (which in fact identifies the false prophets of Matt. 7:15 as “omnibus qui aliud habitu et sermone, aliud opere ostendunt”). Cf. Chapter Five for the same idea (with a more patristic source) in the writings of Pierre d’Ailly. 26 William quotes 2 Tim. 3:6, “et captivas ducunt mulierculas honeratas peccatis,” in Geltner, 40, 44, 48, 50, 66, 68, 112. 21

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French King Louis IX whose sister Isabelle had long favored the Franciscans and eventually joined the Poor Clares. 27 Even more frequently, William complains that the “false prophets” lack proper authorization to preach, but he mentions Cum ex iniuncto by name only once, and immediately points out that any claims of divinely authorized preaching made under that canon would be especially doubtful: “miracles would not suffice as a testimony of their mission, since they often are done through evil. Especially must we suspect miracles in the final Church, since the Lord says ‘false prophets will rise and offer great signs and prodigies’” [Matt. 24:24]. 28 If Cum ex iniuncto is ineffective against the mendicants, as William seems to imply, it is not clear what might make it more effective, although at one point De periculis does cite the Glossa on the deceivers of Rom. 16:17: “‘we beseech you, brothers, mark them,’ that is, discern.” 29 However, William offers no further guidelines. To him the falseness of the mendicants was all too evident.

David of Augsburg and the Retreat from Prophecy In the end, neither Gerard’s nor William’s condemned work had its desired impact. But both contributed to the strong polarization of the mendicant orders and especially the Friars Minor around the issue of prophecy in general and Joachim in particular. David of Augsburg (1200/10–1272), a contemporary of Gerard and William, was a case in point. David belonged to the strictly anti-Joachite camp of Friars Minor and was one of the principal spiritual authors of the thirteenth century, drawing extensively on Scripture as well as on Augustine, Gregory the Great, Bernard of Clairvaux, and William of Saint-Thierry. 30 We know comparatively little about David’s life. He was a popular preacher, an author of treatises on the On the link from Isabelle to Louis cf. Geltner, 10, and William Chester Jordan, “Isabelle of France and Religious Devotion at the Court of Louis IX,” in Capetian Women, ed. Kathleen Nolan (New York: Palgrave MacMillan, 2003), 209–23. 28 De periculis 14, Geltner, 116–7: “Miracula tamen non essent sufficiens testimonium missionem, cum fiant frequenter a malis (I, q. I, Teneamus), Et maxime in finali ecclesia suspecta debent esse miracula, cum dicat dominus, Mat. XXIIII, surgent pseudo prophetae et dabunt signa magna et prodigia.” 29 De periculis 12, Geltner, 92–3: “Unde de illis dicitur Ro. Ultimo, rogamus vos fratres, ut observetis eos, Glossa: ‘id est, discernatis.’” 30 The most recent treatment of David of Augsburg as himself a mystical author comes from Kurt Ruh, Geschichte der abendländische Mystik, Band II, Frauenmystik und Franziskanische Mystik der Frühzeit (Munich: Beck, 1993), 524–37. A good English introduction can be found in John V. Fleming, An Introduction to the Franciscan Literature of the Middle Ages (Chicago: Franciscan Herald Press, 1977), 216–25. 27

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mystical life, and a master of novices at Franciscan houses in Regensburg and then Augsburg. He wrote in both Latin and German, but his most popular work was the three-book De exterioris et interioris hominis compositione secundum triplicem statum incipientium, proficientium et perfectorum, usually dated to about 1250. An astonishing 433 medieval manuscripts of all or part of the work in Latin survive, along with numerous translations. 31 Most of De exterioris is a compendium of relatively standard advice about monastic life and prayer culled from earlier monastic traditions. Bernard McGinn has described the work as “primarily ascetic and often pedestrian.” 32 It is only at the end of the third book of De exterioris that David begins to offer some relatively original advice. After listing seven types of affective devotion based on Cistercian models, he provides four types of “secret revelations and visions or imaginary showings” which, he explains, pertain more to the intellect. 33 However, he warns, “the less we meddle in such matters, the less opportunity we will have to be deceived.” 34 David then proceeds to outline a description of visionary experience and prophecy that positions him as one of the greatest skeptics of his day. His first three types of visions are taken almost verbatim from Augustine: corporeal, imaginary, and intellectual – although David feels compelled to observe that imaginary visions are not only fallible, but can be signs of descent into madness. 35 The fourth type – and here David is on his own – is the false or deceptive vision: “to some people, deceived by seductive spirits or by their own false opinions, either Christ himself or his most glorious Mother appears in visions, and they do not only caress them by The Quaracchi edition, Fr. David ab Augusta: De exterioris et interioris hominis compositione secundum triplicem statum incipientium, proficientium et perfectorum (Quaracchi: Collegium S. Bonaventurae, 1899), x and elsewhere in the praefatio, lists 370 partial or complete manuscripts. In Morton Bloomfield, Incipits of Latin Works on the Virtues and Vices, 1100–1500 A.D. (Cambridge: Harvard University Press 1979), 351–2, another 66 manuscripts are listed, bringing the total to 436. The work was frequently attributed to Bonaventure (who did write a Regula novitiorum) or to David’s pupil Berthold of Regensburg, an extremely popular homilist. 32 McGinn, The Flowering of Mysticism, 114. A more positive view of David’s spirituality, comparing the teachings of De exterioris to other contemporary Franciscan works on prayer, is Bert Roest, “The Discipline of the Heart: Pedagogies of Prayer in Medieval Franciscan Works of Religious Instruction,” in Franciscans at Prayer, ed. Timothy J. Johnson (Leiden: Brill, 2007), 419–31. 33 David of Augsburg, De exterioris 3.66, Quaracchi, 356: “revelationes secretorum et visiones vel imaginariae demonstrationes.” 34 Ibid.: “His autem tanto minus immorandum est, quanto frequentius eis innitentes decipiunt.” 35 Ibid. 3.66, Quaracchi, 357, and cf. Chapter One on Augustine. 31

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embraces and kisses, but by other more indecent deeds and acts.” 36 This, David points out, is not only false and seductive but blasphemous and clearly against the Holy Spirit. “Some sort of spiritual sweetness” is an appropriate form of consolation, but true spiritual consolations should not involve bodily arousal. 37 As for revelations of the future, those, too, can lead to error: “in many places prophecies [vaticiniis] are now filling us to the point of disgust about the advent of Antichrist, the signs of oncoming judgment, the destruction of religious life, the persecution of the Church, the rebellion of kings and … many other things.” 38 These prophecies, David points out, are believed “more than they should be, by serious and devout men, putting forward various interpretations of the writings of Joachim and other prophecies as if they were true and authentic.” 39 And although revelation by the Holy Spirit in response to devout and specific prayers is entirely possible, it is also possible for humans to be enmeshed in their own desire for special graces and deceived by phantasms. 40 It seems clear that David not only belonged to the anti-Joachite party in the Franciscan Order, but that he also associated somatic visionary experiences with Joachite prophecy as potential sources of delusion. As one might guess, David is not particularly optimistic about contemporary revelations of any sort. After citing 1 John 4:1 and a host of other David of Augsburg, De exterioris 3.66, Quaracchi, 359–60: “quidam, decepti a seductoriis spiritibus, vel propriis falsis opinionibus, sibi apparere in visione vel ipsum Christum vel eius gloriossissimam Genetricem et non solum amplexibus et osculis, sed etiam aliis indecentioribus gestibus et actibus ab eis demulceri.” 37 Ibid. 3.66, Quaracchi, 360: “aliquando dulcedinum spiritualem.” Later, in De exterioris 3.68 (Quaracchi, 364) David explains that devotion can lead to “quaedam sensibiles dulcedinis et suavitatis experientiae” as well as wonderful smells, tastes, and sounds. 38 Ibid. 3.67, Quaracchi, 362: “multifariis vaticiniis iam usque ad fastidium repleti sumus de antichristi adventu, de signis appropinquantis iudicii, de destructione Religionum, de persecutione Ecclesiae, de regni defectione et … aliis pluribus.” Bernardino of Siena quoted this and the following anti-Joachite passage in his De Inspirationibus almost two centuries later (cf. Reeves, Influence, 231). 39 David of Augsburg, De exterioris 3.67, Quaracchi, 362: “quibus etiam viri graves et devoti plus quam oportuit creduli exstiterunt, de scriptis Ioachim et aliorum vaticinantium varias interpretations extrahentes, quae etsi vera essent et authentica.” David’s complaints about Joachim fit very neatly into Marjorie Reeves’ category of “first generation Joachism,” but it is interesting to speculate on whether the third book of De exterioris could possibly have been completed as late as 1255, in the aftermath of the Eternal Evangel scandal. On the face of it, David’s skepticism about Joachim’s predictions concerning kings and Antichrists suggest that these last chapters at least postdate Frederick II’s disappointingly uneventful death in 1250, if not the equally disappointing lack of any apocalypse in 1260. 40 Ibid. 36

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standard prooftexts on the ease with which the Holy Spirit can be confused with one’s own senses or an evil spirit, David suggests that “nothing ought to be accepted which does not accord with the teachings of the doctors of the Church and the tradition of approved theologians, nor should anything be held in doubt which has been defined universally and reasonably by the testimony of the holy Fathers.” 41 The novice should not instantly believe an apparent vision but should “dismiss it as less advantageous.” If the vision is evil, David asserts, the novice will not “be entered into nor deceived”; if it is good, no harm will come to him as a result. 42 Even after passing this test, the vision should only be asked for consilium sapientium, and the oblate should return to his safe and meritorious prayer and study of Scripture. 43 Bodily rather than spiritual enjoyment and feelings of pride are also danger signs, but their lack does not necessarily prove that the vision is genuinely from God. 44 “Therefore,” David concludes, “great caution must be exercised in all types of revelations or visions, lest false be taken for true, noxious for healthful, trivial for remarkable, and unimportant for crucial.” 45 It is at this point that discretio spirituum is once again introduced into the discourse on revelation. “Only the Holy Spirit, through the gift of counsel and through the grace of discernment of spirits, teaches man to explain and render certain what in those [visions] he must receive or reject, and how he must use them,” David specifies, “just as [the Holy Spirit] taught the prophets and saints, to whom the testimony of truth testified interiorly that these things were true.” 46 For David, then, discernment of spirits is the only way out of the morass caused by the inevitable issue of visions or revelations. He would prefer that the novices to whom his Ibid. 3.63, Quaracchi, 340: “Nihil recipiendum, quod ab ecclesiasticorum doctrina magistrorum et approbatorum theologorum traditione discordet, nec revocandum in dubium quod ab eis universaliter cum testimoniis sanctorum Patrum fuerit rationabiliter definitum, veritate reperta.” 42 Ibid. 3.67, Quaracchi, 365: “minus fructuosa parvipendere … innitantur eis, ne decipiantur.” 43 Ibid. 44 Ibid. 3.68, Quaracchi, 366. 45 Ibid. 3.67, Quaracchi, 364: “In omnibus ergo revelationum vel visionum generibus magna cautela habenda est, ne falso pro veris, noxia pro salutaribus, exigua pro eximiis et indifferentia pro summis recipiantur.” 46 Ibid.: “Solus autem Spiritus sanctus per donum consilii et per gratiam discretionis spirituum scit hominem expedire et certum reddere, quid in illis recipiendum sit, vel respuendum, et quomodo eis utendum; sicut et Prophetas et Sanctos docuit, quibus non solum vera ostendit, sed etiam per veritatis testimonium, quia vera essent, interius demonstravit.” (The antecedent of “illis” is actually “revelationum vel visionum” in the previous quote.) 41

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treatise is addressed avoid visionary experience altogether, but if this proves impossible, the gift of the Spirit, combined with virtues reminiscent of monastic discretio, should settle the matter. What is new here is the worry about prophecies, visions, and revelations: they are ubiquitous enough to merit fairly detailed treatment in a volume addressed to religious novices, and David is clearly concerned with contemporary visionaries rather than simply the categorization of scriptural revelations à la Augustine or the regulation of monastic life à la Cassian. In De exterioris, for the first time, there is a suggestion that the discernment of spirits could be used to distinguish between true and false revelations, but – as for Augustine – it is a mysterious last resort after more practical tests have failed. David was not particularly clear about who would actually exercise this “grace of discernment of spirits,” although the likeliest possibility is the book’s putative addressee, a novice master charged with supervising new entrants to the religious life. Fortunately for David, he was writing for a community constituted by admission into the Franciscan Order and living within carefully organized structures of authority. The section on visions in De exterioris comes near the end of its final volume, implying that its readers should have already absorbed several hundred pages’ worth of injunctions to heed one’s superiors and honor the institutional Church. As a novice master, in fact, David himself would have been in a position to give the (effectively) final word on whether a given novice’s vision was true or false, noxious or healthful, and so on. As such, David’s reference to discernment of spirits only added another safeguard to the imposing structure of sober, authoritative recommendations at the end of De exterioris. The revolutionary potential of using one charism to judge another does not seem to have occurred to him; discretio spirituum was simply another way in which pious novices could be encouraged to restrain their imaginations and avoid being deceived by the Enemy.

Olivi and the Visionary Defense As it turned out, David’s reintroduction of discretio spirituum into the discourse on contemporary visions and prophecies took some time to catch on. The moderate Salimbene, writing his Chronicon in the 1280s, refers to the Apostolic Brethren movement as false prophets as well as “apostles [who] … are not” [Rev. 2:9] but says nothing about discernment.” 47 He

Salimbene, Chronicon, 405–6. Salimbene also cites 1 John 4:1 and Jer. 14:14 (“Visionem mendacem et divinationem et fraudulentiam et seductionem cordis sui prophetant 47

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also records an extensive debate between Hugh of Digne and the Dominican Peter of Apulia over the utility of Joachim’s prophecies; however, the debate allegedly turned on the interpretation of scriptural prophecies and never mentioned discernment of spirits. 48 In a lengthy excursus on the gifts of the Spirit, on the other hand, Salimbene identifies discretio spirituum only with the gift of casting out demons and mentions an episode of transitory demonic possession in Gregory the Great’s Dialogues, although he cites 1 John 4:1 in connection with the story. 49 Salimbene’s contemporary Bonaventure tended to use Joachim more than he was willing to acknowledge – Marjorie Reeves describes him as “a Joachite malgré lui” – but also avoided confronting certain questions about contemporary prophecy and visionary experience. 50 Like Joachim, Bonaventure saw history tending toward an increase in spiritual understanding and illumination of the Scriptures, and his repeated identification of Francis with the angel of the sixth seal can be (and was) read as an invitation to think of Francis and his Order as inaugurating a new status. 51 Yet Bonaventure does not discuss the discernment of spirits, nor does he attempt to offer guidelines for distinguishing between true and false prophecies amidst his discussion of a sixth age linked with prophecy and the “prophetic order” of St. Francis. 52 In addition to the anti-Joachite and moderate parties in the Franciscan Order, however, there was also a faction who tended to combine strict views on the observance of Francis’ Rule vis-à-vis poverty with a strong interest in prophecy and visionary experience. 53 Members of this faction, vobis”) about this group, headed by Gerard Segarelli. Cf. Lambert, Medieval Heresy, 202–3. 48 Salimbene, Chronicon, 343–64. Unfortunately, Salimbene is our only authority for this debate; it would have been interesting to hear an account from the Dominican side! 49 Ibid., 310–1. Another account of diabolic deception cites the same verse (825). 50 Reeves, Influence, 181; cf. also McGinn, “Apocalyptic Traditions.” 51 A great deal of excellent work has been done on the relationship between Bonaventure and Joachim, including Reeves, Influence, 179–81; McGinn, Calabrian Abbot, 213– 9; Josef Ratzinger, The Theology of History in St. Bonaventure, trans. Zachary Hayes (Chicago: Franciscan Herald Press, 1977); and E. Randolph Daniel, “St. Bonaventura’s Debt to Joachim,” Mediaevalia et Humanistica n.s. 11(1982): 61–75. 52 Cf. most notably Collationes in Hexaemeron 16.16–7, in S. Bonaventurae Opera omnia (Quaracchi: Collegium S. Bonaventurae, 1891) 5:405–6. Of course, the Collationes were delivered in 1273 and remained unfinished at the end of Bonaventure’s life; the complete material on the fifth and sixth days/ages might have included more discussion on how the “prophetic order” could be told from the false prophets who should also have been featured at the climax of the Church’s tribulation on the sixth day. 53 The classic work on the poverty debate from Francis to John XXII is still Malcolm Lambert’s Franciscan Poverty (London: S.P.C.K., 1961), but an updated version with additional background is available in David Burr’s The Spiritual Franciscans: From Protest to Persecution in the Century After Saint Francis (University Park, PA: Pennsyl-

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who became known as Spirituals, came to view Peter of John Olivi (1248– 98) as their primary theological and intellectual leader and continued to revere his memory and teachings after his death. Olivi was born in the diocese of Béziers and entered the Franciscan Order there, then studied at Paris in the 1260s, where he heard Bonaventure lecture on the gifts of the Holy Spirit in 1268. He never became a master, but by the 1270s he was lecturing on the books of the Bible and the Sentences in a Franciscan studium at Narbonne. In the late 1270s, some questions on the Virgin Mary he had written were examined and burned by the Order, and in 1283, he was again examined and censured by the Order for erroneous philosophical and theological positions on topics ranging from the sacramentality of marriage to the nature of divine knowledge, the nature and effects of grace, and, of course, the interpretation of Franciscan poverty in his doctrine of usus pauper. Olivi launched a defensive campaign over the next several years and was rehabilitated; he moved on to a series of teaching positions in Florence, Montpellier, and Narbonne, where he died in 1298. 54 Olivi’s contributions to Christian theology are many, especially in the areas of usus pauper and apocalypticism. Less well recognized are his contributions to the discourse on discernment of spirits. The Postilla super Isaiam, probably written c. 1280–1, features a series of quaestiones about prophecy during Olivi’s explication of the work’s title. 55 Prophetic vision poses a conundrum for Olivi: it should be impossible for a prophet to see future, contingent events unless he or she can see into the all-knowing mind of God, but this vision is reserved for the blessed. 56 In short, Olivi is vania State University Press, 2001). The rigorists’ support of visions had the advantage of granting quasi-evangelical authority to Francis’ Rule (especially its stricter rescensions) as well as to his Testament of 1227. 54 The best discussion of Olivi’s biography, especially of the issues surrounding the censure of 1283, comes from David Burr’s “The Persecution of Peter Olivi,” Transactions of the American Philosophical Society 66:5 (1976): 5–98. 55 David Burr has argued that Olivi’s Isaiah and Matthew commentaries crossreference each other and therefore must have been composed at about the same time; he dates the Matthew commentary to the 1280–1 academic year, although Kevin Madigan has suggested that it may in fact date from 1279–80. Cf. Burr, “The Date of Olivi’s Commentary on Matthew,” Collectanea Franciscana 46 (1976): 131–7, and Madigan, Olivi and the Interpretation of Matthew in the High Middle Ages (Notre Dame, IN: University of Notre Dame Press, 2003), 73. 56 Olivi, Postilla super Isaiam, in Peter of John Olivi on the Bible, eds. David Flood and Gedeon Gál (St. Bonaventure, NY: Franciscan Institute Publications, 1997), 192–3. This was not a new problem, and prophecy was regularly described as looking into the speculum aeternitatis, although some commentators avoided this terminology as coming too close to the Beatific Vision. Cf. David Burr, “Olivi on Prophecy,” in Lo statuto della profezia nel Medioevo, eds. G. Potestà and R. Rusconi, Cristianesimo nella storia 17 (1996), 379–88.

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debating the grounds for prophetic certainty. After rejecting divine illumination or infused light, he concludes that prophetic certainty comes from the prophet’s own conviction as he “sees” divine knowledge intellectually. “An unmoving man clings to God and to his revelations. His infallibility or ‘unfalsificability’ comes from this … and this is immediately and infallibly seen [to be] from God.” 57 In the process, Olivi mentions the necessity of discretio spirituum: “For it happens that God and his angels can send out some things so that, from the manner of sending, one cannot tell whether it comes from a good or an evil spirit; otherwise the gift of discernment of spirits would not be at all necessary for examining and discerning in these instances.” 58 However, Olivi points out, even a vision known to come from a good spirit is not always easily interpreted or understood, and some visions have multiple meanings. Biblical figures ranging from Daniel and John of Patmos to Pharaoh and Nebuchadnezzar had dreams which came from God but which required interpretation, and even Mary’s Annunciation was not explained to her in its spiritual sense. 59 Olivi concludes that the best way to interpret these dreams or visions is not by syllogistic reason or scientific thinking, but by faith; it was on account of his faith that Daniel was given “such clear ability in understanding and such liveliness of feeling, that he might easily and deeply examine whether dreams are from a good spirit or no and whether they signify this or that.” 60 This “habitual knowledge, or general wisdom about the laws and rules of divine providence” is also the knowledge from which Joachim deduced new understanding of Scripture in his Liber concordie and Expositio in Apocalypsim. 61 It enables the wielder to understand the first principle immediately and so to infer necessary conclusions without any argument; however, the knowledge itself is not invalidated because an erroneous conclusion is drawn from it. “Many are mistaken about this,” Olivi points out, “for it does not follow from this that that light is not from God or that it is false in itself,” much 57 Olivi, Postilla super Isaiam, 199: “homo immobiliter adhaeret Deo et eius revelationi. Infallibilitas vero seu infalsificabilitas eius ex hoc venit … et hoc a Deo est praesentialiter et infallibiliter visum.” 58 Ibid., 196: “Constat enim quod Deus et angeli eius sic possunt immittere aliqua quod ex modo immissionis non poterit apprehendi an sit a bono spiritu vel a malo, alias donum discretionis spirituum non essent aliquando necessarium in huiusmodi examinandis et discernendis.” 59 Ibid. 60 Ibid., 197: “Erat enim sibi datum quoddam clarum acumen in intellectu et quaedam vivacitas in affectu ad faciliter et profunde examinanda somnia an essent a bono spiritu vel non et an hoc vel illud significarent.” 61 Ibid.: “habitualis scientia seu sapientia generalium legum seu regularum divinae providentiae.”

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less that “all Joachim’s understanding came from the devil or from the conjectures of the human spirit.” 62 In fact, this “habitual gift” given to Daniel, Joseph, and other prophets is also “one way in which God suddenly teaches us a great deal about the Holy Scriptures.” 63 Here Olivi has managed to shift the grounds of discussion from Isaiah to Joachim, suggesting that Joachim’s interpretative gift is closely related to prophetic talents (and shared by some prophets), if it is not prophecy itself. As for the problem of whether a given vision comes from God, Olivi demonstrates his awareness of Augustine’s tripartite theory of prophetic vision, pointing out that intellectual vision does indeed imply infallibly divine origin. 64 However, most of his discussion highlights a profoundly affective, spiritualized ground for certainty. As he puts it, “when in the highest and most focused and most lively way the mind is transformed by God, it cannot doubt that this change is from God, because it feels with a most certain sense or taste that those things which are now shown or spoken to it are from God, and is most certain that these things are infallibly true.” 65 It is not entirely clear where the “gift of discernment of spirits” fits in this context, although it seems clear that it does somehow consist in distinguishing between visions or prophecies from good or evil sources. Meanwhile, as already seen in the Glossa tradition and William of SaintAmour’s De periculis, Olivi links prophetic revelation to the inspired exegesis of Scripture, allowing the latter to share in some of the certainty and infallibility he attributes to the former. In later exegetical works, as one might expect, Olivi did not hesitate to rely on visionary testimony to supplement and even correct scriptural narratives, at least when the visions fit better into his overall theology of history. Posthumous condemnations remind us that he heeded such visions on at least two occasions: in his commentary on John, to support the Ibid., 198: “Et in his plerumque fallimur. Non tamen ex hoc sequitur quod lumen illud non sit a Deo aut quod in se sit falsum. Quod signanter dico, quia quidam ex hoc volunt concludere quod tota intelligentia Ioachim fuerit a dyabolo vel a coniectura spiritus humani.” 63 Ibid.: “donum habituale datum Danieli vel Ioseph vel aliis prophetis…. Et iste est unus modus per quem Deus subito docet maxima de Scripturis sacris.” (The intervening paragraph compares visions to finding a grain of gold in the sand.) 64 Cf. ibid., 200. In fact, Olivi (along with many of his contemporaries, as we shall see in Chapter Four) is playing fast and loose with Augustine’s distinctions, since Isaiah’s early visions involve images and are clearly imaginary or spiritual according to Augustine, yet Olivi wants to insist that all prophecy takes place via intellectual vision. 65 Ibid., 195: “Quando enim mens altissime et intentissime et vivacissime immutatur a Deo, non potest dubitare illam immutationem esse a Deo, ac per consequens et illa quae sibi tunc ostenduntur vel dicuntur quodam certissimo sensu vel gustu sentit esse a Deo, et eo ipso est [certissimum] quod illa infallibiliter sunt vera.” 62

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counter-scriptural suggestion that the lance pierced Christ’s side before his death, and in his commentaries on Matthew and Revelation, to support the entirely extra-scriptural idea that St. Francis would be resurrected (imitating Christ) to usher in the third status. 66 According to Olivi’s commentaries, this testimony came from unnamed “spiritual” or “holy” people of both genders whom he trusted. 67 Yet Olivi was far from being an uncritical proponent of visions or of prophecies. In the Epistola ad fratrem R., dated to 1283 and responding to the charges censuring him, Olivi responded to criticism of which we have no other record: “Certain people have insisted that I follow dreams and certain fantastic visions as the equivalent of auguries, and that I rashly allow myself to predict future events.” 68 This, he avowed, was untrue: “I never follow any dream or vision completely, but I conclude that it should be followed only if the person insists that it is sent most certainly and infallibly by God, and if, in addition, the person is certainly of sound understanding.” 69 How, then, to achieve this certainty? Olivi offers three criteria: first, the vision should contain and teach nothing erroneous, dubious, or dangerous, or it should be held suspect; second, it should be entirely consonant with the faith, especially holy Scripture, or it will “seem extraneous to divine worship.” 70 Third, it should feature “an alteration in interior taste and feeling,” just as Augustine claimed that his mother “by intimate taste distinguished [discernebat] divine dreams from those which were not divine” in the Confessions. 71 “In this case,” Olivi explains, “an internal These arguments are described in detail in Burr, “Olivi, Apocalyptic Expectation, and Visionary Experience,” Traditio 41 (1985): 273–7. 67 Ibid. (Precise citations appear in the Burr article; the posthumous debate over Olivi’s use of visions will be discussed below.) In at least some cases, it is possible that Olivi is imitating Paul (in 2 Cor. 12:2–4) and referring to his own experiences in the third person. 68 Olivi, Epistola, as edited by Sylvain Piron, “Petrus Ioannis Olivi, Epistola ad Fratrem R.,” AFH 91 (1998): 62: “a quibusdam mihi impingitur, quod instar augurii somnia sequor et fantasticas visiones, et de futuris eventibus predicendis me temerarie intromitto.” For dating the letter, I have relied on the argument in Burr, “Persecution,” 39–42. 69 Olivi, Epistola, 62: “ego nullum penitus somnium, nullamque penitus visionem sequor, aut sequendam esse censeo, nisi prius homini certissime et infallibiliter constaret quod essent a Deo immissum, et nisi ultra hoc homo certus esset de sana intelligentia eius.” 70 Ibid.: “videtur enim quasi extraneum a divino cultu.” 71 Ibid., 62–3: “Tertium est immutatio interioris gustus et sensus, prout enim dicit Augustinus libro Confessionum mater sua quodam intimo gustu discernebat somnia divina ab aliis que non erant divina.” The reference is to Confessions 6.13.23, which actually specifies “smell” rather than “taste” (“discernere se nescio quo sapore”); cf. Chapter One. 66

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unction teaches everything,” since “when the mind is infallibly changed and illuminated by God, it cannot be doubted whether such a change comes from the right hand of the Highest.” 72 As for future events, Olivi insists that it would be rash (temerarium) to predict precise dates or details. Nevertheless, he is certain that some things will come to pass at some point in the future; indeed, Olivi is “compelled by a certain impulse of the spirit” to announce these events. 73 Wishing, then, to prepare himself more fully for the inevitable move into the tertius status, he does attempt to conjecture generally about the future “through the mirror of the holy Scriptures.” 74 However, he promises the anonymous Brother R., “I use more control than is generally believed of me … [and] to this same [end] I bring the visions of some people under a similar rather more strict control; not all, however, but those which on account of [their] consonance with Holy Scripture truly seem to be divine, and best suited to this purpose.” 75 Olivi’s reluctance to entirely eschew visionary testimony reminds us that visionary experience itself was key to his theology of history. This was hardly a unique idea: both Joachim and Bonaventure had maintained that the penultimate and final eras of world history would be characterized by prophetic activity. If, as Olivi argued most strongly in his Apocalypse commentary, the status of the Spirit was at hand, then the holy people of his day should be enjoying ever-increasing levels of spiritual gifts and spiritual understanding. As David Burr has pointed out, the words gustus and degustatio are Olivi’s way of describing the knowledge of this third age, which would consummate and complete other forms of knowledge. 76 The Super Isaiam outlines Olivi’s theory of how this knowledge might Olivi, Epistola, 63: “Et in hec casu interna unctio docet de omnibus. Quando enim mens a Deo infallibiliter immatatur et illustratur, dubitare non potest quin talis immutatio sit dextere excelsi.” The “internal unction” is an allusion to 1 John 2:27, which runs in the Vulgate: “et vos unctionem quam accepistis ab eo manet in vobis et non necesse habetis ut aliquis doceat vos sed sicut unctio eius.” This verse reappears several times in the same connection in Gerson; cf. Chapter Six. 73 Olivi, Epistola, 63: “quodam impulsu spiritus … compellor.” (Among the events Olivi cites as certain: the Franciscan Order will undergo many terrible tribulations; they will restore the worship of God throughout the world – or, rather, God will do so through them; the remnant of Jews will enter Christ’s church. One may surmise that these are some of the events that a Franciscan audience would consider irrefutably likely, which is interesting in and of itself.) Cf. also Burr, “Olivi on Prophecy.” 74 Olivi, Epistola, 63.: “per specula scripturarum sanctarum.” 75 Ibid.: “in hoc ipso maius moderamen observem quam de me a plerisque credatur …. Ad hoc ipsum autem sub consimili immo strictiore moderamine aliquando reduco quorumdam visiones, non tamen omnes, sed que iuxta consonantiam scripturarum sanctarum verisimiliter videntur esse divine, et ad huiusmodi magis apte.” 76 Burr, “Olivi, Apocalyptic Expectation,” 281–4. 72

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operate in figures ranging from Joseph to Joachim, and the Epistola is a defense of Olivi’s use of such knowledge. However, the implications of Olivi’s supercessionist approach to knowledge were as disturbing as the implications of Gerard’s “Eternal Evangel”: although the Church and Scripture remained authoritative in the present, they would be superceded in the near future by viri spirituales and their spiritual understanding. It is against this theological background that one must read Olivi’s most sustained discussion of discretio spirituum, a relatively brief and undated treatise probably addressed to one or more spiritually advanced members of the Beguin communities in southern France. The Remedia contra temptationes spirituales offers a list of “remedies” against “the spiritual temptations which abound on the earth at this time in order to cleanse and test the elect.” 77 The apocalyptic framework here is no accident: Olivi continues by explaining that these temptations come from both the suggestions and illusions of the Devil and from “the corrupt teaching and way of life of those who have already been conquered by the said temptations.” 78 Widespread corruption is a common concern of late medieval devotional literature, but here it is linked to an apocalyptic strain, since “the principles of our faith are in danger of destruction,” and temptations “prepare the throne [cathedram] and seat of Antichrist.” 79 The reader may presume that the decay of the earthly Church is under way and the Age of the Spirit is imminent. However, the temptations themselves are not specified, “so that I may not provide the material or occasion to openly scandalize and disturb the simple and imperfect.” 80 Judging from the remedies which follow, Olivi, Remedia contra temptationes spirituales, as edited by Raoul Manselli in Spirituali e Beghini en Provenza (Rome: Istituto storico Italiano per il Medio Evo, 1959), 282: “dicam tibi aliqua remedia contra aliquas temptationes spirituales que in hoc tempore habundant in terra ad purgandum et probandum electos.” We know very little about the immediate context in which the Remedia was written; in Manselli, “Les opuscules spirituels de Pierre Jean Olivi et la piété des béguins de Languedoc,” in La religion populaire in Languedoc du XIIe siècle à la motié du XIVe siècle, Cahiers de Fanjeaux 11 (1976), he suggests that the Remedia and other advanced treatises “pourraient sembler destinés à certaines communautés ou certains ascètes spirituels désireux d’atteindre une plus haute perfection spirituelle” (192). Despite Sylvain Piron’s recent efforts to establish a chronology for Olivi’s works, however, the Remedia remains undatable, and it is impossible to ascertain precisely what request or situation might have provoked Olivi to write it. 78 Olivi, Remedia, in Manselli ed., 282: “secundo per corruptam doctrinam et modum vivendi aliquorum qui iam victi sunt a predictis temptationibus.” 79 Ibid.: “cognoscet quod sunt in periculum destructionis principalium radicum nostre fidei et quod preparant cathedram et sedem Antichristo.” 80 Ibid: “ut non ponam materiam seu occasionem scandali et turbationis coram simplicibus et imperfectis.” 77

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these temptations arise from visionary experience in oneself and in others, a situation which fits neatly into the expectation of spiritual enlightenment on the cusp of the third status. However, in this treatise Olivi promises only that he “will demonstrate to you through what spiritual discernment [spiritualem discretionem] you should regulate yourself, if you do not wish to be conquered by the said temptations.” 81 Many of Olivi’s remedies are dependably orthodox, reaching back to the Desert Fathers and agreeing with his confrere David: the reader is warned against asking for visions or revelations (and thus falling into the sin of pride), coming to depend on “consolations,” believing visions which contradict faith or morality, believing novel ideas unmentioned by Scripture or Church Fathers, stopping prayer and good works, or becoming overwhelmed with doubt or other temptations. Nor is there anything particularly controversial about advice to consult with a confessor and to “direct your heart and mind to God, humbly recognizing the grace of God.” 82 Perhaps the trickiest portion of the twelve remedies comes with the twelfth, which suggests that, if all else fails, the temptations should not be broadcast but should be ignored and considered typical human failings rather than diabolic visitations. 83 So far, Olivi’s authorities are unremarkable: confessor, Scripture, Church Fathers, teachings of faith, morality, humility, and the grace of God. He has mentioned discretio in the classic monastic sense a few times, but has offered no clear guidelines for the process of discerning spirits. After suggesting twelve remedies for one’s own temptations, however, Olivi offers another four remedies “which you should keep to conduct yourself around those individuals who are producing the aforesaid temptations either by their way of life or by their teachings.” 84 If prospective visionaries say anything “against faith or against holy Scripture or against good mores or against the life and words of the saints … you should shrink back from their visions as false illusions and their feelings as foolish

81 Ibid.: “demonstrabo tibi per quam spiritualem discretionem debes te regere, si non vis esse victus a predictis temptationibus.” 82 Ibid., 284: “dirige cor tuum et intellectum tuum ad Deum, recognoscendo humiliter gratiam Dei.” 83 Ibid., 285: “Decimumsecundum remedium est ut, si per aliam viam non potes evadere predictas temptationes, debes eas oblivisci et per aliquam negligentiam dimittere et fugere eas et non facere conscientiam de eis nec confiteri eas nisi in general.” 84 Ibid.: “Postmodum dicam tibi aliqua remedia que debes custodire regendo te ipsum circa aliquas personas seminantes predictas temptationes aut per vitam aut per doctrinam suam.” Later in the page, Olivi adds “concordance with the Catholic faith” and “reason founded on [all] these mentioned above” to the list of tests.

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ravings and their ecstasy as stupid madness.” 85 Another remedy involves testing questionable scriptural exegesis or saints’ lives against the lives of Christ, the Holy Fathers and Apostles, the Virgin Mary, Francis, Clare, “and similar holy men and women, of whom it is held that their life was perfect.” 86 The emphasis on Francis and Clare clearly betrays Olivi’s Franciscan biases, but it also sounds like a more accessible version of his advice about consonance with Scripture in the Epistola. If the vision’s origin is unclear, however, Olivi advises his reader to bring in “some individuals who, on account of their holiness and discernment [discretionis] and humility, have been proven and resolved and demonstrated … to not be able to be deceived by the illusions and deceptions of the devil,” presumably as a result of the “interior taste” mentioned in Olivi’s other writings. 87 Certainly, this recommendation hearkens back to Olivi’s (or even David’s) earlier appeal to a confessor; the spiritual life should always have some sort of expert guidance. But this is also the point from which Olivi becomes openly controversial. “However great the exalted life or great devotion or clear intellect” of others, he states, one should feel free not to follow their advice “because you know surely and very reasonably that their counsels are not holy, according to true discernment [discretionem] according to or concerning the life taught by and attributed to Christ and the saints.” 88 Here Olivi’s discretio seems to be reaching a stage where it can actually contradict the advice of a superior if the superior departs from the lived and written traditions of the Church. Indeed, Olivi continues, “you should not fear to slight or invalidate the advice of the aforesaid individuals; you will not sin through pride and presumptuousness, since you will nevertheless act out of the love of truth.” 89 In effect, the anti-Joachite teaching on Ibid., 286. The contrasts are more powerful in Latin: “si ducunt vel divertunt ad aliquid quod sit contra fidem sive contra scripturam sanctam sive contra bonos mores sive contra vitam et verba sanctorum sane acceptas, abhorreas earum visiones tamque falses illusiones et eorum sentimenta tamquam stulta insensamenta et raptus eorum tamquam rabiem stultorum.” 86 Ibid.: “et similum sanctorum et sanctarum, de quibus constat quod vita eorum fuit perfecta.” 87 Ibid.: “aliquibus personis ratione sanctitatis et discretionis et humilitatis earum … probatum et certum et manifestum est quod non possent decipi per illusiones et deceptiones dyaboli.” 88 Ibid., 286–7: “Et tertio quod propter quantumcumque altam vitam aut magnam devotionem aut clarum intellectum … noli sequi consilia eorum aut modos, ex quo firmiter aut multum rationabiliter cognosces quod eorum consilia non sunt, secundum veram discretionem iuxta sive erga vitam a Christo et a sanctis doctam et ascriptam.” 89 Ibid., 287: “Et ne timeas quod parvipendendo sive irritando talia consilia predictarum personarum, non peccabis per superbiam aut presumptionem, dum tamen hoc facias 85

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the untrustworthiness of visions (as found in David of Augsburg) is neatly subverted by Olivi’s idea that spiritual discretio takes precedence over other forms of identifying true revelations – especially the hint (to a lay audience, no less!) that internal discretio is more reliable than an apparently expert opinion and can outweigh or “include” the set of rules Olivi has just established. 90 At the same time, this is not a manifesto for antinomian anarchy; Olivi’s appeal to Scripture and the saints is clearly genuine, as is his distrust of excessive novelty. He is also willing to advise his readers to consult a trusted third party for a final decision if they are unable to judge on their own. This mixed message is somewhat in keeping with Olivi’s overall attitudes towards church authority, which David Burr has characterized as “a peculiar bifurcation.… On the one hand, he bowed to ecclesiastical authority. On the other, he felt that the ecclesiastical hierarchy was being subverted by the carnal church and would eventually be largely controlled by it.” 91 It comes as no surprise to discover there are two very different deathbed statements attributed to Olivi, sometimes simultaneously: in one, he explained that all his knowledge came from an episode of divine illumination by Christ at Paris thirty years previously, and in the other, he submitted all his works to the final judgment of the papacy. 92 On the topic of discerning spirits, as in other areas, Olivi was simultaneously innovative and conservative.

Visionaries and Dreamers: Olivi’s Legacy Even before Olivi’s death, tensions between the rigorist “Spiritual” and more relaxed “Conventual” branches of the Franciscan Order had flared into outright rebellion and attempted schism. Members of the Spiritual party were disciplined or persecuted (depending on one’s perspective) on and off until 1309, when Pope Clement V intervened and held a series of

amore veritatis.” Obviously, this tenet would come in handy in dealing (or, rather, not dealing) with papal decisions which seemed to contradict the usus pauper, which Olivi viewed as having been invented by Christ first and Francis second. 90 Manselli, “Les opuscules spirituels,” 196–7, observes of the Remedia that “le clergé et la hiérarchie ecclésiastique semblent absents en cet opuscule. … Le confesseur peut très bien être un frère mineur. De clercs, d’évêques ou de pape, on ne parle pas.” 91 Burr, “Persecution,” 23. 92 The two assertions appear together in the earliest versions; only later did Olivi’s partisans begin to select one or the other tradition. Cf. Burr, “Persecution,” 72–3.

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hearings culminating with the Council of Vienne in 1311–12. 93 Most of the Spiritual resistance was centered in southern France and Italy, where Olivi was revered as an uncanonized saint, and it hinged on an insistence that the doctrine of usus pauper was part of the Franciscan vow – a position with which Olivi was most closely associated. It also tended towards positions which suggested that the strict “remnant” of the Franciscan Order held the key to the imminent third status. 94 It is not surprising, then, that the 1299 general chapter of the Order condemned Olivi’s teachings and excommunicated those who persisted in using his books, while requiring Provençal Spirituals to swear that they would not give the honors of canonization to anyone unrecognized by the Church, a move clearly aimed at the pilgrimage cult growing up around Olivi’s tomb in Narbonne. 95 There were widespread disciplines and book-burnings throughout the years leading up to Vienne while Conventual and Spiritual authors exchanged treatises attacking or defending Olivi and his teachings. Along with the usus pauper issue, Olivi was held culpable on numerous theological points, many of which were identical to those in the censure of 1283. From 1299 forward, he was also consistently accused of teaching, contrary to the account of John 19, that the wound in Christ’s side occurred before Christ’s death. 96 This last teaching, of course, was one of the statements Olivi himself had supported by appeal to visionary authority. Yet this seemingly questionable context was roundly ignored by Olivi’s partisans and opponents alike in the extant sources from the 1309–11 debates over his orthodoxy. The Italian Spiritual Ubertino da Casale defends Olivi on the side-wound charge with several pages of what we would now call historical-critical scholarship: he cites numerous patristic sources to support his contention that Jerome was working from a mutilated text in his Vulgate translation of Matthew and that the original text of Matthew does in fact support Olivi’s narrative of the Passion. 97 The Conventual author Raymond of Fronsac For a more detailed account of these developments, cf. Louisa Burnham, So Great a Light, So Great a Smoke: The Beguin Heretics of Languedoc (Ithaca: Cornell University Press, 2008), esp. 20–24, and Lambert, Franciscan Poverty, 157–220. 94 In, for example, Ubertino da Casale’s Arbor vitae crucifixae Jesu or Angelo of Clareno’s Historia septem tribulationem (discussed below). 95 Cf. Lambert, Franciscan Poverty, 183, 188. These miracles, of course, fulfilled the requirement of Cum ex iniuncto for Olivi to have been sent by God, but none of our extant sources seem to have pointed this out. 96 Cf. Burr, “Persecution,” 73–9, and Edith Pásztor, “Le Polemiche sulla ‘Lectura super apocalypsim’ di Pietro di Giovanni Olivi fino alla sua condanna,” Bulletino dell’Istituto Storico Italiano per il Medio Evo 70 (1958): 365–424. 97 Ubertino da Casale, Sanctitati apostolicae, in ALKG 2:377–416, esp. 402 ff. In fact, modern Bible scholars agree with Ubertino; cf. F.C. Burkitt, “Ubertino da Casale and a Variant Reading,” Journal of Theological Studies 23 (1922): 186–8. 93

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does his best to extract heretical views on Christ’s human and divine natures from Olivi’s position on the side-wound. 98 But both sides of the debate avoid much mention of the holy visionaries to whom Olivi appealed; there are lengthy Conventual polemics about the Spirituals’ lack of obedience, but only two passing, general references to their use of “dreams and fictitious visions,” 99 and no mention of visions at all in the papal bull which finally condemned the Olivian sequence of the Passion. 100 It is possible that this preference for general anti-visionary statements rather than an assessment of one specific authorizing vision stemmed from Olivi’s own posthumously growing reputation as a visionary or prophetic figure, one which has survived primarily in reports from his enemies. Raymond, along with Bonagratia of Bergamo, would later contend that Olivi “spoke false and fantastic prophecies about the Church” and that some of Olivi’s partisans considered his writings to be articles of faith as true as the Bible – to, in fact, supercede the New Testament – and to have been revealed to him by the Holy Spirit. 101 At one point in the Vienne debates, Raymond cites the verse “beware of false prophets” [Matt. 7:15] and continues “on the part of the Order.” 102 He even contrasts Francis’ humility in speaking to angels with the behavior of certain Spirituals who claim similar communications: “Others, whom the angel of darkness, transforming himself into an angel of light, seduces so that he may impede them, lest they reach glory .… for they believe that they cannot be deceived or sin” and so fall into carnal wickedness. 103 Raymond obviously felt that Olivi’s followers were demonstrating the falseness of their master; as a consequence, he felt no need to distinguish between true and false visions, because it was simpler to discredit Olivi as a false prophet based on these “fruits.”

Raymond of Fronsac, Sol ortus, in ALKG 3:7–32, esp. 24 ff. Raymond of Fronsac, Sapientia aedificavit, in ALKG 3:93–137, esp. 102: “sompniarium vel fictorum visionem sectatores” and 119: “opiniones erroneas et visiones fictas audacter modo predicant.” 100 This is Fidei catholicae fundamento in Tanner, Decrees of the Ecumenical Councils, 1:360–1. 101 Raymond of Fronsac and Bonagratia of Bergamo, In nomine domini, in ALKG 2:370: “Et falsas ac fantasticas prophetias de ecclesia dixit” and 2:371. 102 Raymond of Fronsac, Sol ortus, 23 (on chapter 14): “incipit responsio: Attendite a falsis prophetis, et finis est: pro parte ordinis.” 103 Ibid., 12: “Alii vero, quos seducit angelus tenebrarum se in lucis angelum transfigurans [2 Cor. 11:14] et ut eos impediat, ne pertingant ad gloriam …. credunt enim se non posse decipi vel peccare.” Raymond is contrasting the behavior of the “blessed Francis” to that of “brother Francis the prophet,” whom the editor tentatively identifies as Francis of Borgo San Sepulchro, held by the Inquisition in 1311 at Assisi (11 n. 8). 98 99

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Despite these condemnations, a visionary-friendly community of Olivi readers continued to exist – increasingly outside the Franciscan Order. In addition to the Remedia and other treatises intended for the laity, Olivi’s Apocalypse commentary was making the rounds of Spiritual-affiliated lay communities in France, Spain, and Italy as early as 1299. 104 The emerging Beguin groups of the Languedoc venerated Olivi as a prophet 105 and included among their number the visionary Prous Boneta, who saw herself not only as Christ’s friend and the future bearer of the Holy Spirit, but also as one of the angels of Revelation along with Francis and Olivi, and spoke of having been reborn in the spirit on a pilgrimage to Olivi’s tomb in 1306. 106 These communities also enjoyed the advice of another selfproclaimed visionary, Arnald of Villanova (c. 1230–1311), a court physician to kings and popes who evoked both Olivi and Joachim in his speculations on the advent of Antichrist and his calls for church reform. Arnald’s lengthy stays in southern France also led him to support the Franciscan Spirituals – followed by his regal patients in some cases – and to address several treatises to their lay sympathizers, emphasizing the piety and infused wisdom of unlettered Christians such as the apostles. 107 Arnald’s own amateur efforts at apocalyptic prognostication, however, united secular and mendicant theologians in disapproval. Extended controversies with masters at the University of Paris and then with Dominicans in Gerona led Arnald to identify himself as a true apostle who followed the teaching of Christ, opposing false apostles who had fallen prey to diabolical deceit. 108 Initially, it seems, Arnald reinforced his exegetical arguments Note, for instance, the stories of Matthew of Bouzigues and Jerome of Catalonia, discussed in Burr, Olivi’s Peaceable Kingdom, 199. 105 Cf. Burr, “Persecution,” 73, and Robert Lerner, “Writing and Resistance Among Beguins of Languedoc and Catalonia,” in Heresy and Literacy, 1000–1530, eds. Peter Biller and Anne Hudson (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1994), 196–8. The most comprehensive discussion of the Beguin movement is Burnham, So Great a Light. 106 Cf. Burnham, 140–61. 107 On Arnald, cf. R. Manselli, “La religiosità di Arnaldo da Villanova,” Bollettino dell’Istituto Storico Italia per il Medio Evo 63 (1951): 1–100; Robert Lerner, “The Pope and the Doctor,” Yale Review 78 (1988–89): 62–79; and H.E. Lee et al., Western Mediterranean Prophecy: the School of Joachim of Fiore and the Fourteenth Century ‘Breviloquium,’ (Toronto: Pontifical Institute of Medieval Studies, 1989), 27–46. The particular insight about the apostles comes from Arnald’s Lliço de Narbona, in Carreras y Artau and Batllori, eds., Obres Catalanes (Barcelona: Barcino, 1947) 1:164 and is quoted in Burnham, 138 n. 13. 108 On the Paris debate, cf. Franz Pelster, “Die quaestio Heinrichs von Harclay über die zweite Ankunft Christi und die Erwartung des baldigen Weltendes zu Anfang des XIV. Jahrhunderts,” Archivio Italiano per la Storia della Pietà 1 (1951): 25–82. Another Parisian response to Arnald’s work is available in Josep Perarnau Espelt, “Guiu Terrena critica Arnald de Vilanova: Edició de la Quaestio utrum per notitiam Sacrae Scripturae 104

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with the testimony of contemporary visionaries but disavowed any prophetic gifts himself, much as Olivi had. Around 1302, he switched tactics and began to report that his earlier writings had been prompted by voices, miracles, and ecstatic experiences. 109 The charges raised against him, which he summarized in a 1306 Responsio, sound familiar: “that he makes himself a prophet, although he neither performs miracles nor shows signs from revelation” (obviously following Cum ex iniuncto); and that he was a “fantastist” (fantasticus) who saw apparitions or a “dreamer” (sompniator) who depended on unreliable dreams. 110 Arnald responds by asserting that his detractors are “working in the spirit of the dragon” of the Apocalypse, plunging the Church into darkness, and consistently denouncing true writings as false. 111 The examples he offers are Fourth Lateran’s condemnation of Joachim and recent critiques of “brother Peter of John [Olivi], whom the Holy Spirit granted witness.” 112 Just as Olivi’s influence reached outside the Franciscan Order, then, so too did the theological debate over his visionary orthodoxy. Olivi’s legacy produced one further refinement in the history of discretio spirituum. When Clement V decided to hold hearings on the Conventual/Spiritual split, he requested assessments from outside authorities. Two respected Augustinians, Giles of Rome and Augustinus of Ancona, were asked to consider the charges against Olivi. In keeping with the Franciscans’ circumspection on the topic, Giles’ Impugnatio avoided any mention of visionary or prophetic activity and simply noted that Olivi’s possit determinate sciri tempus Antichristi,” Arxiu de Textos Catalans Antics 7–8 (1989): 171–222. On the Gerona debate and Arnald’s reply in the Eulogium (or La Polémica gerundense), cf. Joaquin Carreras y Artau, “La Polémica gerundense sobre el Anticristo entre Arnau de Vilanova y los Dominicos,” Anales del Instituto de Estudios Gerundenses 5 (1950): 33–58. 109 Cf. Lerner, “Ecstatic Dissent,” 44–6. As Lerner points out (46 n. 48), Arnald’s claim of miraculous signs put him on the right side of Cum ex iniuncto. 110 Arnald of Villanova, Responsio ad vacillationes adversarii veritatis, in Miquel Batllori, “Dos Nous Escrits Espirituals d’Arnau de Vilanova,” Analecta Sacra Tarraconensis 28 (1955): 61: “facebat se prophetam, cum neque faceret miracula nec ostenderet signa revellationis” and 62. (The precise origin of each charge against Arnald is prohibitively difficult to trace, since the Responsio seems to list virtually every accusation that had been made against his Tractatus de tempore adventus Antichristi and other predictive works.) 111 Arnald of Villanova, Responsio, 66: “operantes in spiritu drachonis” (cf. Rev. 12:3ff.). 112 Ibid., 77: “fratris Io[annis] P[etri], quibus Spiritus Sanctus perhibet testimonium.” After his death (and that of his protector Clement V), Arnald’s theological writings were condemned by the diocese of Tarragona in 1316; cf. Francesco Santi, “Gli ‘scripta spiritualia’ di Arnald de Vilanova,” Studi medievali ser. 3, 26 (1985): 1006–10.

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position on the side-wound was contrary to Scripture. 113 But Augustinus of Ancona (c. 1243–1328), later dubbed “Augustinus Triumphus,” focused exclusively on the issues of prophecy and divination. Augustinus lectured, taught, and wrote at Paris, Padua, and Venice during the first two decades of the fourteenth century; he is probably best known to modern historians as a strong supporter of the papacy’s supreme jurisdictional and ordinal powers. 114 Marjorie Reeves has pointed out that Augustinus’ Apocalypse commentary made use of Joachim’s Expositio, 115 but his Tractatus contra divinatores et sompniatores, written around 1310, is anything but kind to contemporary prophets as a class. Most of the work is spent inveighing against various exotic forms of divination. 116 The first seven chapters of the Tractatus, however, deal principally with dreamers (sompniatores) and those who interpret dreams, or, as Augustinus writes, “those who dreamt or divined by the outpouring of demonic illusions [that] they strove to adopt the words of the wisdom of Holy Scripture.” 117 It seems that the category of “dream” for Augustine may include any sort of supernatural vision, since he insists that neither “nocturnal illusions” nor “the visions of dreamers” should be taken as revelations. 118 Categorizing these phenomena is not the main point of the Tractatus, however; its principal argument appears in the first chapter, when Augustinus insists that “the Apostolic See should not lend its ears to any diviner or dreamer or predictor of the future or of secrets.” 119 This is surely Cf. Leon Amorós, “Aegidii Romani impugnatio doctrinae Petri Ioannis Olivi an. 1311–12, nunc primum in lucem edita,” Archivum Franciscanum Historicum 27 (1934): 399–451; the discussion of the side-wound is 420–1. Giles had already been commissioned by Boniface VIII (at some time before Boniface’s death in 1303) to write a refutation of Olivi’s Apocalypse commentary; this document, unfortunately, has been lost. Cf. Amorós, 403. 114 The most complete biography of Augustinus is P.B. Ministeri, “De vita et operibus Augustini de Ancona O.E.S.A.,” Analecta Augustiniana 22 (1951–52): 7–56, 148–262. A more recent sketch is offered by Pierangela Giglioni in “Il Tractatus contra divinatores et sompniatores di Agostino d’Ancona: Introduzione e edizione del testo,” Analecta Augustiniana 48 (1985), 24–37. On Augustinus’ political theology, cf. Eric Saak, High Way To Heaven: The Augustinian Platform Between Reform and Reformation, 1292– 1524 (Leiden: Brill, 2002), esp. 40–55. 115 Cf. Reeves, Influence, 88–9. 116 These forms include casting lots, predictions based on birdsong or the movement of fish, astronomy, geomancy, demon-summoning, and letter/number manipulations. 117 Augustinus of Ancona, Tractatus contra divinatores et sompniatores, in Giglioni, “Il Tractatus,” 54: “hiis que sompniaverunt vel immissis demonum illusionibus divinaverunt Sacre Scripture sapientie verba coaptare nituntur.” 118 Ibid., 60: “nocturnas illusiones … sompniatorum visiones.” 119 Ibid., 59: “sedes apostolica non debet cuilibet divinatori vel sompniatori sive futurorum et occultorum pronuntiatori aures apponere.” 113

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a reference to Arnald of Villanova (the impression is only strengthened when a later chapter warns against such individuals who presume to dictate a way of life to kings and princes), but no name is mentioned. 120 Instead, Augustinus cites 1 John 4:1 and explains that churchmen should avoid dreamers and diviners because these individuals are superstitious, disturb or scandalize the simple, are prohibited by holy Scripture, and are generally lying about themselves to boot. “For,” Augustinus observes tartly, “if evil angels can transform themselves into good ones, it is not remarkable if noxious men transform themselves into holy ones, so that … they live falsely under the appearance of truth and deceive the minds of men.” 121 Olivi, as it turns out, is the source for many of these visionaries: Augustinus asserts that “those who make themselves interpreters of dreams and visions” are both superstitious and evil, since “they praise and commend the doctrine of the Minorite Peter of John so much that they say that, apart from it, the Christian religion and the rules of the Gospels cannot be held or served.” 122 In order to counteract this doctrine, Augustinus writes, certain Franciscan theologians asked for it to be condemned and annulled in twelve articles, which he will now repeat. 123 The twelve articles are similar to those listed by Giles, Raymond, and other anti-Olivi authors. They include errors about the divine essence, the soul, assorted sacraments, usus pauper, and Christ’s side-wound, which is again addressed only as a deviation from Scripture. 124 Before he can discuss Olivi, however, Augustinus needs to eliminate any possibility that such “dreams” could be genuine. He begins with an attack on the very idea of contemporary messages from God: “to distinguish [discernere] between divine revelations and diabolic illusions is the gift of the Holy Spirit; therefore it is great presumption and boldness to say that nocturnal illusions and the visions of dreamers are divine revelations, especially since such revelations are not currently taking place.” 125 In Ibid., 63–4. This could also conceivably be a reference to Olivi’s correspondence with the princes of Aragon a generation earlier and might even have some application to that other Catalan visionary, Raymond Llull (1232–1316). 121 Ibid., 60: “Nam si mali angeli possunt se transfigurare in bonos, non est mirum si pestiferi homines transfigurant se in sanctos viros, ut … sub specie veritatis existentes falsarii, decipiant mentes hominum.” (This is an indirect reference to 2 Cor. 11:14.) 122 Ibid., 74: “istorum, qui interpretes sompniorum et visionum se faciunt, superstitiosam esse et malam; quia doctrinam cuiusdam fratris minoris Petri Johannis in tantum extollunt et commendant, ut preter illam religionem christianam et regulam evangelii dicant non posse haberi nec servari.” 123 Ibid. 124 Ibid., 74–80. 125 Ibid., 60–1: “discernere inter divinas revelationes et dyaboli illusiones donum est Spiritus Sancti; ideo magne presumptionis est et temeritatis nocturnas illusiones et 120

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support of the first part of this statement, Augustinus cites the Glossa Ordinaria on 1 Cor. 12:10, where the gift of discretio spirituum is identified as a way of distinguishing between good and evil spirits. 126 Discretio spirituum is the only reliable method of distinguishing between revelations and illusions, Augustinus insists. After all, there are many scriptural examples of evil spirits who can predict the future and perform apparent miracles; moreover, all the gifts Paul listed are given to both good and evil people. 127 Augustinus also offers the original argument that people who have the gift of prophecy or interpreting dreams are more likely to be evil than good, since evil people tend towards carnal vices which pollute their bodies but leave their minds clear for incoming fantasies! 128 Finally, he unveils his ultimate argument against the possibility of modern-day revelations: granted that God sent revelations and miracles to the Israelites and to the early Church, “now that the truth of the Gospel is fully revealed and declared, and the Catholic faith fully confirmed, we see distinctly that God desists from working miracles; therefore we should contend that he has likewise desisted from revelation by dreams and visions.” 129 In case these arguments are not sufficient, Augustinus then offers a set of signs by which “one can know which are inspired by God and which instigated by diabolic fraud, which are not addressed by these interpretations of dreamers.” 130 Of course, anything inspired by God must be consonant with the Bible, but this – Augustinus acknowledges – only eliminates some contenders. He is not abandoning his previous argument about the importance of the gift of discernment of spirits, but adding to it. Since “we cannot causally and a priori distinguish between the workings and revelations of good and evil spirits,” given the deceptive talents of the latter, we must identify them “by effect and a posteriori, by certain signs,” as sompniorum visiones dicere esse revelationes divinas, maxime cum nunc tales revelationes non fiant.” 126 Cf. the reference in Chapter One of this book. 127 Augustinus of Ancona, Tractatus, in Giglioni, “Il Tractatus,” 61–2. Augustinus cites the “lying spirit” who deceives Ahab’s prophets in 1 Kings 22:20–3 and the Egyptian sorcerers who counter Moses’ initial signs in Ex. chps. 7 and 8. He also insists that only charity differentiates the saved from the damned, an argument he repeats in q.15 a. 5 of his Summa de potestate ecclesiastica (c. 1320) while insisting that the gift of prophecy should not count toward canonization (Augustini Triumphi Summa de potestate ecclesiastica [Rome: Ex typographia G. Ferrarij, 1584], 103–5). 128 Ibid., 62. 129 Ibid., 62–3: “nunc, quod veritas Evangelii est plene revelata et declarata et fides catholica plene confirmata, videmus expresse quia Deus destitit ab operatione miraculorum; ergo sic debemus arguere quod destiterit a revelationes sompniorum et visionum.” 130 Ibid., 63: “homo potest cognoscere que sunt divinitus inspirata et dyabolica fraude instigata, que ab istis interpretibus sompniorum non tanguntur.”

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recommended in Matt. 7:16: “By their fruits you shall know them.” 131 In this spirit, Augustinus offers four negative indications. The first negative sign, instability or changeability on the part of the visionary, is supported by Old Testament examples of prophets who did not move physically, but is generalized to fit Augustinus’ own experience: “we see some moving and fluctuating in their state, so that they are now married, now continent, now secular, now religious, now beyond the ocean, now on this side, now casting away the world, now seeking it.” 132 The second is “deformity” of their religious observance [ritus] or of their followers’ observance. Here Augustinus alludes to Beguin-like people “who hold new ceremonies and create new sects … so that not only simple folk but also kings and princes can be led into their sect.” 133 The third sign is, in fact, any teachings which run contrary to Scripture, of which Augustinus has clearly seen many. The fourth sign is simply if the revelations (presumably predictions of future events) turn out to be untrue, since God can reveal only truth but the devil is the father of lies. 134 In what may be a jab at Arnald’s efforts to gain an educated audience for his prognostications, Augustinus adds that anyone who claims to know that a doctrine of the faith is a human invention rather than a divine revelation or to prove such a doctrine by human reason is surely inspired by the devil. 135 Augustinus outdoes David of Augsburg in his gloomy view of contemporary prophets, visionaries, and “dreamers:” they are not only dangerous and liable to deception, but it is very probably impossible for any of them to have been inspired by God. As a result, all Augustinus’ “signs” or “fruits” are negative in nature. There is no spiritual sweetness or interior taste, much less a conviction of certitude, available to the visionary him- or herself. However, Augustinus agrees with both David and Olivi that the discernment of spirits is necessary in some cases – indeed, according to Augustinus, it is the only possible method of a priori knowledge about the origin of a given prophecy. As such, it plays a central role in Augustinus’ attempt to discredit the divinatores who followed Olivi’s teachings. To a 131 Ibid., 62: “causatim et a priori non possumus cognoscere inter bonorum et malorum spirituum operationes et revelationes …. Sed per effectus et a posteriori, per aliqua signa, possumus talia cognoscere.” 132 Ibid., 64: “videmus aliquos mobiles et fluctuantes in statu eorum, ut nunc sint uxorati, nunc continentes, nunc seculares, nunc religiosi, nunc ultra mare, nunc citra, nunc mundum spernentes, nunc appetentes.” (This can be read as an allusion to Arnald of Villanova, Raymond Llull, or perhaps the Beguins as a whole.) 133 Ibid.: “aliquos novum ritum tenere et sectam novam fabricare … ut non solum simplices sed etiam reges et principes possint in eorum sectas inducere.” 134 Ibid., 65. Of course, this draws on the precedent of Deut. 18:22. 135 Ibid., 65–6, and 71–3.

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contemporary reader the Tractatus raises more questions than it answers: for example, if all the gifts of the Spirit can be bestowed on either good or evil people, how is discretio spirituum less problematic than prophecy? As for Augustinus’ references to Olivi, they seem less likely to have come from one of the Olivian works addressing discretio spirituum and more likely to derive from Olivi’s now widespread reputation as a false prophet and supporter of visionaries. With only four surviving medieval manuscripts, the Tractatus was much less popular than the works it criticized.

Choosing Not To Speak In a sense, Augustinus of Ancona represents the extreme point of the distrust of prophecy and visions which characterized so much late medieval writing on the subject from David of Augsburg forward. It comes as no surprise that Augustinus, like David, was writing during a period of profound ecclesiastical instability. The papacy had recently moved to Avignon under a cloud of French influence, the status of the Knights Templar was still unresolved, new heresies were being reported, Pope Benedict XI had recently died under suspicious circumstances, and both the monarchs of Europe and the College of Cardinals were split on several key issues (including the disposition of the Franciscans). However, Augustinus’ position proved too extreme for most later authors when he dismissed the possibility of contemporary prophecy. Even the most ardent anti-Joachites within the Franciscan Order were unwilling to go that far. Despite continued furor over Olivi’s Apocalypse commentary and its prediction of a future age of spiritual understanding and ecstatic contemplation, the issue of contemporary visions was kept relatively quiet. 136 In a Catalan process from 1318 against a work dependent on Olivi’s commentary, someone noticed that the work had cited Bonaventure – who himself cited a vision – in favor of Francis’ identification with the angel of the sixth seal, but the commission cautiously concluded that this vision was probably not authentic, “and if it was true and from God, it should be understood not literally, but as a sort of appropriation.” 137 On the early fourteenth-century debate over (and the occasional use of) Olivi’s Apocalypse commentary, cf. Burr, Olivi’s Peaceable Kingdom. 137 Catalan process as Refutación de un libelo anónimo catalán, in José Pou y Marti, Visionarios, beguinos y fraticelos catalanes (Vich: Editorial Seráfica, 1930; reprinted with new foreword Madrid: Editorial Colegio Cardinal Cisneros, 1991), 496: “Nec visio … est multum autentica, et si vera esset et a Deo, debet intelligi non ad litteram sed per quandam appropriationem.” 136

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Discretio spirituum was also not much discussed in the decades after Augustinus’ Tractatus. In the 1320s, Angelo Clareno claimed that the Franciscan minister general John of Parma had possessed this gift, but described it as the ability to identify and console unhappy or sinful friars. 138 By the time the Franciscans – with considerable “help” from the papacy – had excised most of the radical implications of Joachism from within their ranks, they had also stopped offering guidelines for dealing with contemporary visionaries. The Franciscan master Nicholas of Lyra (c. 1270/80–1349), in the massive Postilla super totam bibliam he wrote between 1322 and 1331, commented on Deut. 18:22 that “the falseness of a prophet is detected in two ways: in one way by the event, evidently when that which he predicted does not happen; in another way by the intended outcome, if what he predicted happens … and afterwards he strives to turn people away from God.” 139 However, even though Nicholas had arrived at Paris at the height of the Arnald of Villanova controversy, his prophetic examples are exclusively biblical, and his guidelines were not applied to contemporary prophets for another fifty years. 140 The topic may simply have remained too hot to handle in Franciscan circles. As Nicholas wrote in his Apocalypse commentary, “Because ‘I am not a prophet, or the son of a prophet,’ I will not say anything about the future, except what can be taken from holy Scripture or the words of the saints and authentic teachers; therefore, I leave the interpretation of this to the wise.” 141 Angelo Clareno, Liber chronicarum sive tribulationem ordinis minorem 3.95, as edited in P.G. Boaccali (Assisi: Edizioni Porziuncula, 1999), 358. An excellent new translation is David Burr and E. Randolph Daniel, Angelo Clareno: A Chronicle or History of the Seven Tribulations of the Order of Brothers Minor (St. Bonaventure, NY: Franciscan Institute Publications, 2005). 139 Nicholas of Lyra, Postilla super totam bibliam (Nuremberg: A. Koberger, 1492), under Deut. 18:22 (s.v. item “n”): “…falsitas prophete duobus modis deprehenditur, uno modo ex eventu scilicet quando non evenit quod predixit, alio modo ex fine intento, ut si quod predixist evenit … et postea nititur homines avertet a deo.” In fact, Nicholas offers not examples of false prophecy but counterexamples: he refers to the divinely inspired prophecies of Is. 38:1 and Jonah 3:3 (respectively, the death of Hezekiah and the destruction of Nineveh), both of which Nicholas argues were fulfilled spiritually but not literally. For more on Nicholas and the Postilla, cf. Nicholas of Lyra: The Senses of Scripture., eds. Philip Krey and Lesley Smith (Leiden: Brill, 2000). 140 Cf. Nicholas, Postilla, Deut. 18:22. The anti-Arnald “Guiu Terrena” quaestio was once attributed to Nicholas, but this is now considered unlikely – cf. Deanna Klepper, The Insight of Unbelievers: Nicholas of Lyra and Christian Reading of Jewish Text in the Later Middle Ages (Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press, 2007), 149–50 and 180–1. Examples of Nicholas’s guidelines being deployed to judge contemporary visionaries first appear in the 1380s and 1390s; cf. Chapters Four and Six of this work. 141 Nicholas, Postilla, on Rev. 20:6: “quia ‘non propheta sum, nec filius prophetae,’ [Amos 7:14] nolo de futuris aliquid dicere, nisi illud quod a scriptura sancta vel dictis 138

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Although Olivi’s Spiritual and Beguin followers were not bound by Nicholas’ political considerations, few of them chose to theorize about visions. An interesting exception is Alisseta Boneta, sister of the visionary Prous, who testified before the Montpellier Inquisition in 1325 that [W]hen she meditated on the things her sister told her and asked herself what the truth of the matter might be, at one point she reflected that God could do all things and thus could inspire her sister with his grace in this manner, and so she believed that what her sister said was good and true, given her by God. Later she believed in her heart that it was an illusion, the work of the devil. Finally, however, she said in the judicial process that she had concluded she would not dare to say or believe definitively that it was a demonically caused illusion or temptation, because if she said that she would fear God’s judgment, she feared God would punish her. She wished to believe definitively that on the whole it was God’s work and the Holy Spirit’s work rather than the devil’s. Insofar as it might be against the Holy Church of God, though, she did not want to hold to it, as she said. 142

Alisseta’s inconclusive conclusion is quite consistent with the Franciscan silence on the issue of discretio spirituum after Olivi: realizing the dangers inherent in making a judgment either way, she preferred not to choose. In fact, Alisseta’s sustained indecision was a logical reaction to the problematic status of visions and prophecies in the early fourteenth century. However, her stance was an unpopular one, and after three years, Alisseta abjured her errors, including her belief in the divine inspiration of her sister’s visions. 143 The next individuals to offer guidelines for distinguishing between true and false revelations did so in a different context – that of the supposed Free Spirit heresy – and from a different part of Europe.

sanctorum et doctorum authenticorum elici potest propter quod expositionem litterae dictae sapientoribus dimitto.” My translation draws on Krey, Nicholas of Lyra’s Apocalypse Commentary (Kalamazoo, Mich.: Medieval Institute Publications, 1997), 216. 142 Transcribed from the Doat text in David Burr, “Medieval Sources in Translation,” last accessed May 26, 2011, http://www.history.vt.edu/Burr/heresy/beguins/Alissetasoror_ Latin.html: “quandoque meditata fuit intra se quid hoc esse posset de his quae dicta soror sua sibi dicebat, et quandoque considerabat quod Deus poterat facere omnia, et quod potuerat dictam sororem suam sic sua gratia inspirasse. credebat quod ea quae dicta soror sua dicebat esse bona, et vera, et a Deo sibi data, et postea cogitabat in corde suo quod esset cantatio vel illusio et opus diaboli. Tamen finaliter dixit in iudicio ipsa loquens quod tunc ultimo erat in tali proposito, et credentia de praedictis, quae a dicta sorore sua audivit quod non auderet dicere nec credere determinate quod esset demonice opus, vel illusio aut temptatio quia timere iudicium Dei super hoc, et timeret quod Deus propter hoc puniret ipsam loquentem, et etiam vult credere determinate quod totum sit opus Dei, et Spiritus Sancti, et quod potius credit quod sit opus Dei quam diaboli quantum ad aliqua veruntamen quantum esse possent contra Sanctam Ecclesiam Dei, nollet ea tenere sicut dixit.” 143 Alisseta’s case is discussed in Burr, Spiritual Franciscans, 236–7, and in Burnham, So Great a Light, 159.

Chapter Three

The Wild One: Free Spirits and Distinctions The Four Instincts and Intellectual Discernment Joachim’s legacy and the possibilities of contemporary prophecy were only one set of challenges to the Church’s authority in the general area of revelations and visions. The “new mysticism” of the thirteenth and fourteenth centuries represented an equally serious problem for medieval thinkers. Growing numbers of Christians, both inside and outside the traditional religious orders, sought to live as spiritually as possible in a life of Christocentric or Christomimetic piety, usually with the goal of achieving some sense of God’s presence and perhaps ultimately union with the divine. But these interests, usually pursued by an individual under some sort of spiritual direction, could cause difficulties for a religious community. David of Augsburg had already expressed concerns that his novices were uncritically seeking supernatural delights, and other members of the mendicant orders found themselves supervising not only members of their own houses but also local communities of nuns, tertiaries, and beguines. The focus on divine union could even affect church doctrine: theological controversies about the boundaries of such union became commonplace, and although the questions they raised were far from new, they took on renewed urgency. How much could a human being know about God, using either natural reason or divinely infused grace? How close to “perfect” could an intrinsically sinful human being ever get? Were there limits on the power of God’s grace to elevate and purify the human soul? What sort of experience of God was possible in this life? Could humans achieve union with God, and, if so, under what conditions? These concerns were addressed by thinkers who had been exposed to medieval scholasticism at its height, and they formulated answers in terms of categories and distinctions based on works from Aristotle to Aquinas. But their reflections were also part of the scholastic tradition’s constant self-examination, a tendency inherited from the millennium-old Christian tension between scientia and sapientia, natural knowledge and divinely infused wisdom. The continuing importation of Aristotelian and Averroistic texts and terminology, combined with continuing rivalry between

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secular and mendicant masters, raised concerns that erupted in the Parisian condemnations of 1270 and 1277. The 1277 list of errors is particularly interesting, since its length and lack of order allow us to take it as a guide to the fears and suspicions of medieval scholastics as they approached the fourteenth century. 1 Apparently, these fears ranged from rational skepticism and preference for philosophy over theology to sexual peccadilloes, Averroistic concepts of an agent intellect, dismissal of Christian laws and teachings as fables, pure apophaticism about God, and even the belief that “raptures and visions do not occur unless by nature.” 2 The difficulties of scholastic culture and the challenges of the “new mysticism” dominated a well-known anti-scholastic current of fourteenth-century thought warning against speculation for its own sake. 3 However, this same conjunction of questions about how best to approach and/or understand God also contributed significantly to the development of a discourse on discernment. Around the time Augustinus of Ancona was assembling his case against Arnald of Villanova, another Augustinian, also in Paris, was writing about a seemingly unrelated topic. Henry of Friemar “the Elder” (c. 1245–1340) had advanced through early studies in Bologna and Paris and a stint as provincial of the German Augustinians, until he became a master of theology at Paris around 1305 and regent master of the Augustinian studium there shortly thereafter. 4 He attended the Council of Vienne in 1311–2 along with Augustinus of Ancona and Nicholas of Lyra, then was In essence, the 1277 list was compiled by a group composed of secular masters who pulled together any thesis that they could imagine a member of the mendicant orders would argue. Probably the most accessible discussion (followed by a translation) is in Edward Peters, Heresy and Authority in Medieval Europe (Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press, 1980), 223–5. For more recent analyses, cf. Nach der Verurteilung von 1277/ After the Condemnation of 1277, eds. Jan Aertsen, Kent Emery, and Andreas Speer, Miscellanea Mediaevalia 28 (Berlin: Walter de Gruyter, 2001). 2 The complete text of the errors and Bishop Templier’s accompanying letter appears in Denifle and Chatelain, CUP 1:543–58. The article quoted here is number 33, on 1:545: “Quod raptus et visiones non fiunt, nisi per naturam.” Other relevant articles could include nos. 31, 32, 40, 65 (which discounts divine intervention in dreams unless mediated through astrology), 109, 152, 153, 154, 166, 168, 174, 175, 181, 183, 211, and 215 (which is about apophaticism). 3 On late medieval scholasticism’s attitude toward speculation, cf. William Courtenay, “Spirituality and Late Scholasticism,” in Christian Spirituality II: High Middle Ages and Reformation, ed. Jill Raitt et al. (New York: Crossroad, 1997), 114–7, and André Cabassut’s article on “Curiosité” in DS 2:2654–61. 4 The best short bio-bibliographical sketch of Henry of Friemar the Elder (so called to distinguish him from three other roughly contemporary Henry of Friemars!) is Adolar Zumkeller, “Henri de Friemar,” in DS 7:191–7. A more extensive, if slightly more dated, treatment appears in Clemens Stroick, Heinrich von Friemar: Leben, Werke, philosophisch-theologische Stellung in der Scholastik (Freiburg: Herder, 1954). 1

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named regent master of the Erfurt studium in 1317, where he also acted as a popular local preacher, confessor, and arbitrator until his death in 1340. During this long career, Henry wrote numerous moral/spiritual treatises, sermons, commentaries on several books of the Bible and on Aristotle’s Ethics, and several treatises on mystical theology. 5 Although he had some limited acquaintance with the Joachite currents that still swirled around Paris at the turn of the fourteenth century, he showed little of his confrere Augustinus’ interest in the topics of prophecy and divination. 6 Henry's contribution to the literature on discernment of spirits came as a result of his interest in the confusion of grace and nature, especially as they applied to the pursuits of knowledge and the spiritual life. His Tractatus de quattuor instinctibus probably dates from the first decade of the fourteenth century and therefore from his later years at Paris. 7 De quattuor instinctibus was very popular, with more than 150 Latin manuscripts, medieval translations into several German vernaculars, and four early printed editions. One of the first mentions of the work in English describes it as “the first comprehensive treatment of the criteria for the discernment of the spirits” and adds that Henry “displays a typical Augustinian attitude when, with considerable reserve, he discusses both the socalled natural instincts and pagan philosophy.” 8 More recently, DQI has been described as a “‘proto-discernment’ treatise” focused on the idea that “divine possession is associated with calmness, serenity, and stasis.” 9 If these assessments seem contradictory, there is a reason: Henry wrote from On Henry as a mystic, cf. Bernard McGinn, The Harvest of Mysticism in Medieval Germany (1300–1500) (New York: Crossroad, 2005), 368–77. 6 On Augustinus, cf. Chapter Two. Henry was not a Joachite at all, but knew of Joachim’s work; in the relatively obscure Tractatus de origine et progressu Ordinis Fratrum Eremitarum S. Augustini (1334), a work dedicated to proving that Augustinian hermitfriars rather than Augustinian canons were the true spiritual progeny of St. Augustine, Henry claimed the title of Joachim’s order of contemplatives for the Augustinian hermits in passing and cited Joachim’s apocalypse commentary in support of this. Cf. Reeves, Influence, 257–8. 7 The critical edition is Der Traktat Heinrichs von Friemar über die Unterscheidung der Geister, ed. Robert G. Warnock and Adolar Zumkeller (Würzburg: AugustinusVerlag, 1977). Lacking any external clues, Warnock and Zumkeller date DQI by its close textual parallels to Henry’s De adventu Verbi in mentem, which is definitively dated to the first decade of the fourteenth century; as a result, they conclude that DQI also dates to this decade (27–9). I would add that DQI shows no signs of Henry’s attendance at the Council of Vienne or of the interest in Free Spirits which had certainly spread to Erfurt late in Henry’s life. On Erfurt as a center of anti-Free-Spirit polemic, cf. Robert Lerner, The Heresy of the Free Spirit in the Later Middle Ages (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1972), 130 and elsewhere. 8 Zumkeller, “The Spirituality of the Augustinians,” in Christian Spirituality II, 68. 9 Caciola, Discerning Spirits, 216–7. 5

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the tradition in which the monastic virtue of discretio was more important than discretio spirituum, and he never uses the latter phrase in his treatise. 10 However, late medieval thinkers were quick to see the work’s relevance to the discernment of spirits, pairing DQI with Henry of Langenstein’s later treatise De discretione spirituum in manuscripts and print editions. 11 In fact, DQI associates the divine and angelic instincts with action as well as calmness, but it expresses the difficulty of identifying those instincts with a novel combination of classic discernment themes and scholastic terminology: the four types of instincts are often confused “because the angel of Satan often transforms himself into an angel of light, and many times something of nature is believed to be of grace.” 12 Henry’s four instincts are divine, angelic, diabolic, and natural, and “the true cause and reason why it is difficult to discern the aforesaid instincts is the likeness and conformity of the light of nature and the light of grace.” 13 The second half of DQI is devoted to comparing the results of nature to those of grace when it comes to the acquisition of knowledge, the augmentation of internal virtues, and the performance of exterior exercises of holiness. However, the first half deals with the first three instincts, and does so by providing fourfold lists of signs for each. 14 This type of organization is not quite new – Olivi and Augustinus both listed ways in which a revelation could be confirmed as divine – but its extent certainly is. Setting form aside, however, the outward content of DQI is not especially innovative. The four signs of the divine instinct are conformity to the examples of Christ and the saints, increased humility, unity and inward motion of the Cf. Warnock and Zumkeller, introduction to Der Traktat, 36–7 on Henry’s sources, including Augustine and Bernard of Clairvaux; Stroick, Heinrich von Friemar, argues strongly that Henry was a committed Thomist, and the categories of nature and grace in DQI offer some support for this, although otherwise he does not follow Aquinas. 11 Henry of Langenstein and De discretione spirituum are addressed in Chapter Five. 12 Henry of Friemar, DQI (in the Zumkeller/Warnock edition), 152: “quia frequenter angelus Satanae ‘se transfigurat in angelum lucis,’ et multotiens creditur esse gratiae, quod est naturae.” Henry is, of course, citing 2 Cor. 11:14. 13 Ibid.: “Causa vero et ratio, quare sit difficile praedictos instinctus discernere, est similitudo et conformitas naturalis luminis et luminis gratuiti.” On 154, Henry explains – citing “Augustinum et alios doctores” – that while the instincts are fourfold, all human acts derive from either nature or grace. Although one could reasonably derive the same four instincts from, for instance, Aquinas’ Summa theologiae IaIae qq. 103–19, this formulation seems to be Henry’s own. 14 Strictly speaking, as we shall see, Henry provides four fourfold lists of signs for the first three instincts: four signs of divine instinct, four signs of angelic instinct, four signs by which to tell diabolic from divine instinct, and four signs by which to tell diabolic from angelic instinct. There is a detailed outline of DQI in the Hohmann edition of Henry of Langenstein’s De discretione spirituum, fully cited in Chapter Five, on 6ff. 10

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heart, and better performance of virtues. 15 The four signs of the angelic instinct are fear and perturbation followed by consolation and joy, hiddenness followed by manifestation, a tendency toward good and useful actions, and incitement of good will. 16 Diabolic instinct is primarily defined in opposition to both divine and angelic instincts, and its signs are the opposite of the other two sets. For example, the diabolic instinct can be distinguished from the divine by inspiring actions contrary to those of Christ and the saints, while it differs from the angelic instinct in that it produces joy followed by fear and the pain of sin. 17 However, all three supernatural instincts are placed within the context of Henry’s consuming interest in a quest we might term “devotional” or even “mystical.” Humility and meekness of heart, signs of the divine instinct, are also the virtues by which “man is especially disposed to divine union; and, through these, the approach of the heavenly kingdom is opened to men.” 18 In fact, “the divine instinct always calls man back from the exterior tumults of the world and invites him to simplicity and unity and intimacy in his heart,” and it does so “in order that he may return stronger in himself and may make himself more skilled at preserving the divine presence.” 19 Henry is not especially interested in extraordinary visions or infused knowledge, but recommends that all good religious, and especially solitaries, ought to live “with their mind continuously delighted by God alone.” 20 Once this is accomplished, discernment is no longer a problem: “those who watch their intimate hearts” and are fully turned toward God “perceive the divine instinct.” 21 Still, this is no easy task: “there are so few men who know well and distinctly when they have received the divine instinct.” 22 God mercifully accommodates the divine instinct to human weakness when he “send[s] forth his instinct under such an extraneous Henry of Friemar, DQI, 156–64. The most interesting part of this may be the centrality of the heart throughout DQI, which Caciola, Discerning Spirits, 217, connects to contemporary medical emphasis on the importance of the heart within the human body. 16 Ibid., 166–84. 17 Ibid., 176–84. The consolation/pain and joy/fear dynamics go all the way back to Athanasius’ Vita Antonii; cf. Chapter One. 18 Ibid., 158: “homo ad divinam unionem specialiter disponitur et aditus regni caelestis per eas homini aperitur.” 19 Ibid., 160: “instinctus divinus semper revocat hominem ab exterioribus tumultibus saeculi et ipsum invitat ad simplicitatem et unitatem et intimitatem sui cordis …. ut eum in se ipso reddat fortiorem et ad conservandum divinam praesentiam ipsum faciat aptiorem.” 20 Ibid., 160: “mens eorum in solo Deo iugiter delectetur.” 21 Ibid., 164: “illi soli divinos instinctus percipiunt, qui custodiunt intima sui cordis.” 22 Ibid., 162: “tam pauci homines sunt, qui bene et distincte cognoscant, quando divinos instinctus recipiunt.” 15

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form, just as he once spoke to the prophets in dreams and enigmas, so that those who receive the divine instinct so extraneously and dubiously think the divine motions [are] like some sort of dream.” 23 Perhaps Henry shared some of Augustinus’ belief that prophecy was no longer relevant, because he did not return to prophecy per se. Instead, he moved on to more common-sense advice: “if your conscience testifies that that something is pleasing to God, advantageous to you, and most useful and comforting to your neighbor, this is a certain indication of the angelic instinct.” 24 DQI is not solely concerned with distinguishing between its four titular instincts. It also offers seemingly pastoral advice on encouraging the first two and discouraging the second two. For instance, the rigidity, contentiousness, and unwillingness to take advice which result from diabolically inspired pride can be countered by cultivating “a humble heart and meek soul, and judging all men better and more learned than oneself.” 25 Sometimes humility can even allow one to turn diabolic inspiration to a good end. 26 Meanwhile, the spiritual combatant must “diligently guard his heart and attend to his interior disposition, because one attains the security of a good life and a pure conscience as a result.” 27 Indeed, Henry insists, if a person is circumspect and pays attention to both his heart and his conscience, “the devil cannot suggest anything to such a person under some pretense of holiness, because he will immediately detect his falsehood and evil.” 28 However, the spiritually perfect are still very susceptible to the devil’s efforts to “transform divine love into carnal love,” and spiritually perfect men (Henry uses vir rather than homo) especially. Fortunately, “no one can better escape that danger than by shunning the company of women as familiars, however great their religiosity and devotion.” 29 This advice is Ibid.: “oportet Deum sub specie sic extranea suos instinctus istis immittere, sicut in somno et aenigmate olim prophetis loquebatur; sic et isti tam extranee et dubie divinos instinctus recipiunt, quod divinas motiones quasi quoddam somnium arbitrantur.” 24 Ibid., 170: “et si tunc sibi conscientia attestatur, quod illud sit Deo gratum, sibi ipsi proficuum et proximo utile et consolatorium, hoc est certum indicium angelici instinctus.” 25 Ibid., 178–80; the quote is from 180: “quod homo gerat cor humile et animum mitem, et quod aestimet omnem hominem meliorem et doctiorem se.” 26 Ibid., 188–90. 27 Ibid., 184: “diligenter cor suum custodiat et interiorem dispositionem eius diligenter advertat, quia ex hoc attingit homo securitatem bonae vitae et puritatem conscientiae.” 28 Ibid., 188: “diabolus non potest homini quidquam suggerere sub tanta specie sanctitatis, quin statim suam falsitatem et malitiam deprehendat.” 29 Ibid., 192: “amorem divinum in carnalem transformat” and 194: “Et illud periculum nullus poterit melius evitare quam quod vitet familiare consortium feminarum, etiam quantumcumque religiosae et devotae exsistant.” 23

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mostly directed toward the individual for his own use, but Henry does hint at ways of identifying others who have succumbed to the diabolic instinct: “the two certain indications of a perverse heart are presumption in not fearing evil, and torpor and diffidence in advancing towards betterment.” 30 The fourth, and by far the longest, section of DQI is devoted to the natural instinct, “which should be shunned most of all, because nothing more dangerous fights against the one who wants to advance spiritually.” 31 Whether this advancement involves learning and knowledge of truth or grace and holiness, Henry writes, one must recognize the motions of the natural instinct in order to evade its clutches, but this is easier said than done, since “both the natural light and the light of grace tell one that God must be loved above all else.” 32 However, Henry wades into more troubled waters when he offers three signs by which to distinguish between inquiries inspired by nature and those inspired by grace. The first sign of naturally inspired seekers is “that their knowledge and understanding are freely scattered into a multitude of forms and phantasms, nor can they gather themselves again in mental unity.” 33 In contrast, “the effort of grace tends toward this, that the mind unites with God as with someone similar to itself.” 34 Words which come from the light of nature seem grand but are small “in fruits and in real existence,” while words which proceed from grace seem humble and simple but are great “in interior fruits and in true existence.” 35 Secondly, the natural instinct inflates man’s opinion of himself, while the instinctus gratiae (clearly a relative of the divine instinct) teaches one to discount himself, assuring himself of praise and blessedness in the afterlife. 36 In case anyone has missed the point, Henry adds that holy men think less and less of themselves as they advance in devotion, while “philosophers, who praise themselves and the truth of their Ibid., 188: “ista sunt duo certa indicia cordium perversorum, scilicet praesumptio malum non cavendi et torpor ac diffidentia in melius proficiendi.” 31 Ibid., 194: “qui summopere est vitandus, quia nimis periculose impugnat hominem spiritualiter proficere cupientem.” 32 Ibid., 196: “tam lumen naturale quam lumen gratiae dictant homini Deum esse super omnia diligendum.” 33 Ibid., 198: “quod istorum scientia et intellectus libenter spargitur ad specierum et phantasmatum multitudinem nec ipsos recolligit in mentis unitatem.” 34 Ibid.: “conatus gratiae ad hoc tendit, quod mens cum ipso Deo tamquam cum suo simili uniatur.” 35 Ibid.: “verba, quae dicuntur ex instinctu luminis naturalis, etiamsi videantur grandia in prolatione et apparentia, sunt tamen parva et modica in fructu et reali exsistentia. E contrario vero verba illa, quae procedunt per instinctum gratiae, licet humilia et simplicia videantur in apparentia, sunt tamen magna in fructu interiore et exsistentia veritatis.” Henry is probably referring to Matt. 7:16, “Ex fructibus eorum cognoscetis eis.” 36 Henry of Friemar, DQI, 200. 30

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concept by great bellows, will quickly fall into human oblivion, both themselves and their words.” 37 The third and final sign is that the natural instinct causes man to cease his attempts at spiritual advancement and diminish the fervor of divine love within him, while the instinct of grace does the opposite. Indeed, Henry adds, the subtleties of the natural instinct will erode useful spiritual concepts learned through divine grace. 38 Henry’s complaints against “philosophers” feed into a general anti-scholastic condemnation of intellectual activity conducted for its own sake and not God’s, but they also suggest a need for discernment practices aimed simultaneously at mystics and “philosophers.” While this combination of mysticism and scholasticism is perfectly consistent with Henry’s Augustinian and Parisian context, it also brings his work into closer conformity with those authors who addressed discernment a few decades later, in a world of increasing concern over various types of “mystical” heresy. It is difficult to say precisely how quickly De quattuor instinctibus spread throughout European clerical circles in the fourteenth century, or who had a chance to read and absorb it, although its survival in more than 150 manuscripts and a Middle High German translation suggests considerable appeal. 39 But even those who were not exposed to DQI would have been familiar with the decrees of the Council of Vienne, where Henry and DQI’s interest in condemning purely natural striving towards God as well as their emphasis on the importance of continued exercitia exteriora found expression in Vienne’s decree Ad nostrum, which Robert Lerner has called “the birth certificate of the heresy of the Free Spirit.” 40 Ad nostrum listed a series of errors attributed to a sect of German beghards and beguines – many of them adapted from the 1310 Parisian condemnation of the beguine Marguerite Porete, in which Henry also participated. 41 The Ibid.: “philosophi, qui se ipsos et veritatem ab ipsis conceptam magnis boatibus extulerunt, cito in se ipsis et in dictis suis in oblivionem hominum devenerunt.” 38 Ibid. Elliott, Proving Woman, claims that “Henry… interprets the impulse of nature largely in terms of scholarly vanity” (259), but I would argue for a more complicated reading. 39 Cf. McGinn, Harvest, p. 76. 40 Cf. Lerner, Heresy, 83, and 68–84 on the connections between Porete’s condemnation and Ad nostrum. 41 Cf. Denifle and Chatelain, CUP 3.660, and Paul Verdeyen, “Le Procès d’inquisition contre Marguérite Porete et Guiard de Cressonart,” Revue d'histoire ecclésiastique 81 (1986): 50. (Henry is identified as “Henricus Teutonicus … ordinis heremitarum Sancti Augustini.”) Nicholas of Lyra was also part of the twenty-one-member panel which declared Porete’s work to be heretical. On the role of the panel in Porete’s condemnation, cf. Kent Emery’s introduction to The Mirror of Simple Souls, ed. and trans. Edmund Colledge, J.C. Marler, and Judith Grant (Notre Dame, IN: University of Notre Dame Press, 1999). 37

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heretics of Ad nostrum held that man could attain a state of perfection in this life which rendered him incapable of sin and which therefore released him from the need to fast, pray, obey the Church, or obey any human laws because “where the spirit of the Lord is, there is liberty.” 42 Equally objectionably to Henry of Friemar, the heretics allegedly believed that “any intellectual nature is naturally blessed in itself, and that the soul does not require the light of glory in order to elevate itself to see God and enjoy him in bliss.” 43 In other words, the Free Spirit heresy was characterized not only by antinomianism, but also by an inability to distinguish between the effects of nature and grace acting on the intellect or moving the soul towards divine union – precisely the central element in Henry’s initial problem of discernment.

The Master Who Denied All Distinctions Thanks to Clement V’s untimely death and a long papal vacancy, the Council of Vienne’s decrees, including Ad nostrum, were not published until 1317, when the new Pope John XXII released them as the “Clementines.” Twelve years later, the same Pope issued the bull In agro dominico condemning certain doctrines taught by Meister Eckhart, the famous Dominican theologian and preacher who had died c. 1328. Issued in March of 1329 and seemingly related to Ad nostrum, the bull accused Eckhart of promulgating a number of erroneous, or simply misleading, theses, including assertions that it was possible for human beings to reach a union with God in which they could not be distinguished from God, that exterior acts were neither good nor divine nor produced nor commanded by God, and that a sort of quietism was the best way to honor God. The bull also records two articles attributed to Eckhart but which he claimed were not his teaching, including the idea that the intellect was an uncreated part of the soul. 44 While the lines of causation may never be entirely clear, Eck42 The scriptural quotation (which is cited in Ad nostrum in just this form) is from 2 Cor. 3:17: “ubi spiritus Domini, ibi libertas.” The decrees of Vienne can be most conveniently obtained in both Latin and English in Tanner, Decrees of the Ecumenical Councils; Ad nostrum is found on 1:383–4. 43 Ad nostrum, in Tanner, Decrees, 1:383: “Quarto, quod quaelibet intellectualis natura in se ipsa naturaliter est beata, quodque anima non indiget lumine gloriae, ipsam elevante ad Deum videndum et eo beate fruendum.” 44 In agro dominico, in M.-H. Laurent, “Autour du procès de Maître Eckhart. Les documents des Archives Vaticanes,” Divus Thomas (Piacenza) 3:13 (1936): 435–46. an English translation (with accompanying sketches of Eckhart’s historical and theological background) appears on 77–81 of Meister Eckhart: The Essential Sermons, Commen-

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hart was almost certainly influenced by Porete’s Miroir des âmes simples, and Ad nostrum was definitely drawn in part from the articles of Porete’s condemnation. 45 At the same time, Eckhart knew Henry of Friemar during their mutual time in Erfurt, if not earlier. 46 Some of Eckhart’s works did indeed imply the possibility that human beings could reach a state of union in which they were identical with God, even though certain of his teachings were taken out of context and others were misunderstood due to their obscurity. Even more radical treatises by other authors were distributed under Eckhart’s name, often advocating positions which Eckhart himself would have disavowed. All these circumstances combined to ensure that the figure of Meister Eckhart was associated with the heresy of the Free Spirit by the middle of the fourteenth century, if not earlier. 47 By the 1350s, Jan van Leeuwen, a lay follower of Ruusbroec, could claim that Eckhart had never given a true sermon and that his heretical teachings on divine union made him “an enormous Antichrist.” 48 Eckhart’s posthumous plunge into heresy put a number of his conspicuously orthodox students and supporters on the defensive. Most thirteenthcentury Dominican authors had not been especially interested in unpacking the idea of discretio spirituum or the problems posed by contemporary prophecy. Albert the Great, for instance, addressed the theoretical implications of prophecy in detail without ever offering standards by which to

taries, Treatises, and Defense, trans. and ed. Edmund Colledge and Bernard McGinn (Mahwah, NJ: Paulist Press, 1981).The bull’s contents were distributed well outside Cologne; cf. Robert Lerner, “New Evidence For The Condemnation of Meister Eckhart,” Speculum 72 (1997): 347–66. 45 For the relationship of Ad nostrum to Porete’s condemnation, cf. supra. The historical connection between Porete and Eckhart is described in Edmund Colledge and J.C. Marler, “‘Poverty of Will’: Ruusbroec, Eckhart and The Mirror of Simple Souls, in Jan van Ruusbroec: The sources, content and sequels of his mysticism, ed. Mommaers and N. de Paepe (Leuven: Leuven University Press, 1984), 14–47. On Eckhart’s thought more generally, the best introduction is Bernard McGinn, The Mystical Thought of Meister Eckhart: The Man From Whom God Hid Nothing (New York: Herder and Herder, 2001). On points of comparison between Porete and Eckhart, cf. also Amy Hollywood, The Soul as Virgin Wife: Mechthild of Magdeburg, Marguerite Porete, and Meister Eckhart (Notre Dame, IN: University of Notre Dame Press, 1995). 46 McGinn, Harvest, 369ff. argues for several points of similarity between Henry’s and Eckhart’s mystical works – but Eckhart showed no parallel interest in discernment. 47 Lerner, Heresy, describes other attempts to associate Eckhart with the Free Spirits (some even from Dominicans!) on 185–6 and gives a survey of some Eckhartian and pseudo-Eckhartian literature circulating in Free Spirit circles on 208–21. 48 Jan van Leeuwen, Boexken van Meester Eckaerts leere and Van den tien gheboden, cited in Lerner, Heresy, 185.

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judge modern-day visionaries. 49 Albert’s student Thomas Aquinas simply skipped discretio spirituum in his enumeration of gratia gratis data in the Summa theologiae and dealt with the problem of prophecy with the quick observations that prophets will be corrected by the Holy Spirit if they confuse their own spirit with the prophetic impulse and that “certain signs, even external, can discern [discerni] demonic prophecy from divine prophecy.” 50 However, Aquinas did not bother listing these signs, noting only that false prophets occasionally tell untruths. 51 Elsewhere in his works, he defined discretio spirituum in several conflicting ways. 52 Albert’s and Aquinas’s disinterest was shared by most of their confreres. Even Salimbene’s witness seems to confirm that thirteenth-century Dominicans were usually far less concerned than were their Franciscan and Augustinian counterparts with visions, prophecies, and how to authorize or validate them; as late as the 1330s, one German Dominican, Venturino of Bergamo, concluded that visions and revelations should be completely avoided as a source of spiritual temptation. 53 Just as some thirteenthcentury Franciscans had to deal with the embarrassments of the Eternal Evangel and Olivi’s condemnation, however, certain fourteenth-century Dominicans and their allies had to address the problem of Eckhart’s reputation and the dangers of Free Spirit “heresy” in the religious communities which they were responsible for supervising. Some scheme for discerning spirits, perhaps cast in terms of Henry of Friemar’s Thomistic In his De prophetia, which has been edited by Jean-Pierre Torrell as “La question disputée De prophetia de Saint Albert Le Grand” in the Revue des sciences philosophiques et théologiques 65 (1981): 5–53 and 197–232. 50 Aquinas, Summa theologiae IIaIIae, q. 171 a. 5 (on telling prophecy from a prophet’s own spirit) and 172 a. 5: “Ad tertium dicendum quod aliquibus signis etiam exterioribus discerni potest prophetia daemonum a prophetia divina.” 51 Cf. ST IIaIIae, q. 172 a. 5. 52 So, for instance, Summa theologiae IIaIIae, preface to qq. 171–4, where discretio spirituum is related to “spirituales substantias, a quibus vel a bonum vel ad malum inducimur”; Summa IaIIae q. 111 a. 4, where it is identified with “occulta cordium”; In epistolam I. Ad Corinthios 12, lectio II, where it is glossed as “ut scilicet homo discernere possit quo spiritu aliquis moveatur ad loquendum vel operandum”; and Summa suppl. q. 37 a. 2, where it is a gift possessed ex officio by the doorkeeper of a monastery! Denys the Carthusian, writing in mid-fifteenth century, was so troubled by Aquinas’ inattention to the issue that he wrote in his own De discretione et examinatione spirituum, published in Opera Omnia Dionysii Cartusiani (Monstrolii: Typis Cartusiae S.M. de Pratis, 1913), 40.269: “In super, S. Thomas in secunda secundae tractu quo de prefatis donis gratiae gratis data determinat, de dono isto discretionis spirituum nihil scripsit, propter difficultatem materiae, vel ob causam aliam sibi notam.” 53 Cf. Salimbene’s description of the debate between Hugh of Digne and the Dominican Peter of Apulia in Chapter Two, and on Venturino of Bergamo, the discussion in Caciola, Discerning Spirits, 218–21. 49

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distinction between nature and grace, must have seemed a logical way of distinguishing between heretical and orthodox visionaries and mystics. After all, In agro dominico had offered two related explanations for Eckhart’s errors: not only had he famously “wanted to know more than he should,” but he was also “seduced by the Father of Lies, who often turns himself into an angel of light so that he may shed a dark and gloomy cloud of the senses over the light of truth.” 54 His error, in other words, had been in part a problem of failing to accurately discern the spirits. The earliest effort to defend Eckhart against posthumous accusations of Free-Spirit-like heresy drew directly on In agro dominico. Henry Suso (c. 1300–66) was enrolled in the famous Dominican studium at Cologne from 1323/4 to 1326/7, the same timespan during which the already embattled Eckhart probably taught theology at the Cologne studium and definitely preached vernacular sermons to nuns and laypeople in the city. 55 Somewhere between 1327 and 1329, Suso wrote the Büchlein der Wahrheit, or Little Book of Truth; a year or so later he penned the more devotional Büchlein der Ewigen Weisheit, or Little Book of Eternal Wisdom. Shortly afterwards, a provincial chapter (probably the one at Maastricht in 1330) questioned the orthodoxy of Suso’s writings, but he rebounded quickly. In 1334, Suso wrote his only extant Latin work, the Horologium Sapientiae, a tremendously popular devotional text based in part on the Büchlein der Ewigen Weisheit but aimed at a more learned audience. During his years at Constance and later at Ulm, he wrote letters and traveled around the region, preaching and acting as a spiritual advisor to various houses of women religious, especially Dominican nuns. He became closely involved with Elsbeth Stagel (d. 1360), a sister in the Dominican convent of Töss, who apparently provided both the inspiration and the basic material for

In agro dominico, Laurent, 436: “plura voluit sapere quam oportuit …. Per illum enim patrem mendacii, qui se frequenter in lucis angelum transfigurat, ut obscuram et tetram caliginem sensuum pro lumine veritatis effundat, home iste seductus.” Once again, 2 Cor. 11:14 is being cited. 55 For biography on Suso and dating of his works, cf. the introduction to the critical edition of Suso’s German works edited by Karl Bihlmeyer, Heinrich Seuse: Deutsche Schriften (Stuttgart: Kohlhammer, 1907), 63–140, and Frank Tobin’s introduction to the premier English translation, Henry Suso: The Exemplar with Two German Sermons (Mahwah, NJ: Paulist Press, 1989), 19–51. Suso’s educational background is especially illuminated by P.I.M. Frank’s article, “Zur Studienorganisation der Dominikanerprovinz Teutonia in der ersten Hälfte des 14. Jahrhunderts und zum Studiengang des Seligen Heinrich Seuse,” in Heinrich Seuse: Studien zum 600. Todestag, 1366–1966, ed. E.M. Filthaut (Köln: Albertus Magnus Verlag, 1966), 39–70. An older perspective on his interactions with the Free Spirits is Georg Hofman, “Die Brüder und Schwestern des freien Geistes zur Zeit Heinrich Seuses,” also in Filthaut’s Heinrich Seuse, 9–32. 54

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Suso to put together his own “autohagiographical” Vita. 56 The Vita was not formally published until 1362–3, when Suso released an edited collection of his vernacular works (including selected letters) and entitled it the Exemplar. 57 More than five hundred manuscripts of Suso’s works survive, making him “probably the most read mystic of the late Middle Ages.” 58 Suso’s extensive scholastic training shows through in these works, especially the early Büchlein der Wahrheit and the Latin Horologium Sapientiae. However, Suso’s oeuvre is also marked by a strong interest in the traditions of the Desert Fathers, so it is no great shock that he picked up on the idea of discerning spirits and considered applying it to the highly speculative and apophatic mystical teachings of Eckhart as well as to the more obviously visionary experiences which he himself reported and advised on. 59 We have no way of knowing whether Suso read any more recent sources on discernment or whether he simply shared common sources, but his vision of discernment had a great deal in common with Henry of Friemar’s. Both men emphasized the mystical or devotional context in which visions needed to be sorted out; both applied visionary categories to contemporary, practical problems; both were interested in the distinction between grace and nature and their associated forms of knowing, sapientia and scientia; and both displayed a certain discomfort with How much of Suso’s Vita was written by Elsbeth Stagel and how much was edited beyond recognition by Suso is impossible to determine, although Stagel’s other extant writings do not strongly resemble the Life. I follow Frank Tobin’s suggestion in the preface to his Henry Suso volume, 39–40: “Both as to content and literary quality, the Life seems to have Suso as its principal source; but the inclusion of material not authored by him cannot be ruled out. However, it appears unlikely that such material would constitute enough of the total work to alter in an essential way the Life's content, intent or tone.” For a more detailed analysis of the problem, cf. Tobin, “Henry Suso and Elsbeth Stagel: Was the Vita a Cooperative Effort?” in Gendered Voices: Medieval Saints and Their Interpreters, ed. Catherine M. Mooney (Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press, 1999), 118–35. 57 I am happy to make use of Tobin’s excellent English translation in the Henry Suso volume and will cite that along with the original German from the Bihlmeyer edition. For Suso’s Horologium Sapientiae, I will translate from the critical edition of Pius Künzle, Heinrich Seuses Horologium Sapientiae (Freiburg: Universitätsverlag, 1977). However, I can also recommend Edmund Colledge’s translation of this work, Wisdom’s Watch Upon The Hours (Washington, DC: Catholic University of America Press, 1994). 58 McGinn, Harvest, x (and 195 for a similar assessment). 59 J.-A. Bizet, in his Henri Suso et le déclin de la scolastique (Paris: Aubier, 1946), claimed that that “Il est remarquable que Suso n’ait pas toujours la certitude de ses extases, ni même de la réalité de ses visions….” (224). In light of the various discernment traditions outlined in Chapter One alone, I would suggest that it is not at all remarkable! Bizet also argues that Suso did nothing significant to distinguish between visions, that he “a vu le ciel ouvert” (228), which differs significantly from my reading. 56

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scholastic pursuits while using their own scholastic backgrounds to great advantage. However, there were key differences: for one thing, Suso was writing after Vienne and after the Free Spirits had been associated in some minds with the teachings of Meister Eckhart. Suso also wrote most of his works in Middle High German, including in his readership women religious and perhaps even pious laypeople while introducing a new and different vocabulary in which to address the problems of discernment. Suso’s earliest work, the Büchlein der Wahrheit, received an additional title when Suso re-edited it for the Exemplar: “Concerning Inner Detachment and True Discernment, Which Can Be Had in the Use of Reason.” 60 The words being translated as “true discernment” are gůtem underscheide. Middle High German underscheit/d is used to translate both Latin discretio and distinctio through Suso’s German works and those of his contemporaries; as we shall see, this encouraged new connections between the problem of indistinct union with the divine, distinctions made as part of the scholastic method, and the idea of discernment of spirits. 61 Suso’s account begins when “the disciple” (der junger) is frightened that an interior revelation telling him to achieve inner detachment may be concealing “the perfidious abyss of unrestrained liberty, which causes great harm to Holy Christendom.” 62 A second, more reassuring revelation points out that “evil” (including false signs and false prophets) “hides within what is good,” and Eternal Truth grants the disciple’s request to illuminate him so that he can not only identify true detachment but can “distinguish [underscheid] well between people whose goal is a well-ordered simplicity and those who, as they say, aim at unrestrained liberty.” 63 The resultant dialogue between the disciple and Truth provides a summary of Eckhartian teachings on key issues such as the nature of the Godhead, creation, detachment, and return BDW prol., in Bihlmeyer, Heinrich Seuse, 326 (trans. Tobin, Henry Suso, 307): “Hie vaht … von inrelicher gelazenheite und von gůtem underscheide, der ze habenne ist in vernunftikeite.” 61 Examples from Suso’s work, and the much-attested translation of discretio spirituum in 1 Cor. 12:10 as underscheidung/underscheit der geiste, aside, the most illuminating witness to this lexical fact may come from MHG translations of Aquinas’s Summa theologiae. While the rarely appearing discretio spirituum is again translated as underscheidung der geiste, underscheidung(e) and underscheit interchangeably translate discretio, distinctio, divisio, or differentia. Cf. Middle High German Translation of the Summa Theologica by Thomas Aquinas, eds. Bayard Morgan and Friedrich Strothmann (Palo Alto: Stanford University Press, 1950), 356 and 395. 62 BDW prol., Bihlmeyer, 327 (Tobin, 307): “valscher grunt ungeordenter friheit und bedecket legi groze schade der heiligen kristenheit.” 63 BDW prol., Bihlmeyer, 327 (Tobin, 308): “gůten underscheid gebi … enzwúschent dien menschen, die da zilent uf ordenlicher einvaltikeit, und etlichen, die da zilent, als man seit, uf ungeordenter friheit.” 60

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to God. It also features a Christocentric vision episode in which the disciple “retreated within himself and, as his senses faded, it seemed to him as though he were being led into a land of the intellect.” 64 Then in the penultimate chapter, the disciple meets up with a “nameless wild one,” at least “in the calmness of his mind.” 65 This “wild one” is striving towards “unrestrained liberty” and quotes several articles from In agro dominico concerning “a learned teacher who denied all distinctions [underscheit].” 66 Of course, the disciple defends Eckhart with passages from the latter’s works, and finally accuses the “wild one” of failing to understand the differences between union and indistinction. He tells the wild one: The genuine light has not yet illumined you. Genuine light allows for order and distinction [underscheit], while rejecting turbulent plurality. Your sharp mind with its agility in reasoning employs with complete control the light of nature, which illumines much like the light of divine truth. … The most prominent shortcoming that disorients you and those like you is the inability to distinguish correctly [gůtes underscheides] in matters of rational truth. 67

Underscheit is precisely what is at issue in the Büchlein der Wahrheit: there seems to be a direct connection between the wild one’s antinomianism and his inability to make certain distinctions due to his lack of the “genuine light” or “light of divine truth.” He does have the light of nature, and is highly skilled in reasoning, but according to the disciple – and hence Suso – this is not enough for him to understand true detachment or true liberty. Suso echoes (and corrects) both Ad nostrum and In agro dominico when he links the theme of misapplied intellect to the idea of heretics who disavow distinctions.

BDW 5, Bihlmeyer, 338 (Tobin, 316): “er sinkende in such selb und in der vergangenheit siner sinnen duchte in, er wurde gefůret in ein vernúnftiges land.” Truth helpfully exegetes the subsequent vision and the menschen glichnús at its center as Christ surrounded by various deluded worshippers. Suso is playing with the Augustianian categories of vision here, since the disciple’s “intellectual” vision also involves images. 65 BDW 5; Tobin, 326; Bihlmeyer, 352: “in der stilli sins gemuetes …. daz namelos wilde.” 66 BDW 6; Tobin, 327; Bihlmeyer, 352 and 354: “lediger friheit …. ein hoher meister si gewen, und daz der ab sprechi allen underscheit.” For more detail on BDW and In agro dominico, cf. Herma Piesch, “Seuses Büchlein der Wahrheit und Meister Eckhart,” in Heinrich Seuse: Studien, 91–134. 67 BDW 6, Bihlmeyer, 356–7 (Tobin, 329): “Weslich lieht hat dir noch nit gelúhtet, wan weslich lieht lidet ordenunge und underscheit, entwiset von usbrúchiger manigvaltikeit. Din scharphes gemerke richset mit guenlichi dez liehtes der nature in behender vernúnftikeit, daz da vil glich lúhtet dem liehte der gœtlichen warheit.… Der meiste gebreiste, der dich und dine glichen entsetzet, der lit dar an, daz úch gebristet gůtes underscheides vernúnftiger warheit.” 64

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The Büchlein der Ewigen Weisheit barely addresses these same issues, although at one point, Eternal Wisdom does explain that “since no one on earth can really distinguish [underscheit] by clear knowledge between grace and nature” (a remark that suggests Suso is already becoming more cautious than in the Büchlein der Wahrheit), Wisdom’s human servant should simply offer to God whatever is pleasant in his spirit “so that it be made to praise me because I am Lord of nature and grace. Thus nature becomes for you supernature.” 68 Although it is less openly controversial than its predecessor, the Büchlein der Ewigen Weisheit does not exhibit any self-consciousness about its own visionary character, and its strongly Eckhartian description of the soul’s union with God might have led to Suso’s censure, because the Horologium Sapientiae, while clearly derived from the BEW, uses more moderate and conventional terms and opens on a decidedly defensive note. 69 Suso’s only Latin work warns its reader against taking passages out of context and cites scriptural examples to demonstrate that “the visions described in the following work should not all be accepted according to the letter, although many of them seem literal, but this is figurative speech.” 70 The end of the prologue explains that Suso fears those who, moved by jealousy, enviously misrepresent or destroy the works of others. More specifically, [T]hey call divine charisms superstitious figments, and they say that holy revelations are fantastic deceptions and that the deeds of the holy fathers are fabulous stories. … they follow only their own common inventions and dubious propositions as certain demonstrations. Although one must show great caution in addressing the aforesaid [revelations], they also should not be rejected in every way. 71

BEW 24, Bihlmeyer, 311 (Tobin, 291): “Wan nieman in zit dekeinen eigenlichen underscheit nach kuntlichem wissene under natur und gnad haben mag….daz es in minem lobe verzerret werde, wan ich ein herr der nature und der gnade bin; und alsus so wirt dir inetzent nature úbernatur.” The same optimistic attitude shows up in the next question, when the servant asks about turning the evil spirit’s temptations to God’s praise and is told to pray for God to receive the praises which the fallen spirit should by right have offered to Him. 69 On the BEW’s orthodoxy and its relation to the Horologium, cf. Künzle ed., Horologium Sapientiae, 28–54, and Colledge, Wisdom’s Watch, 17–30. As an example, the passage from BEW 24 supra is reproduced in HS 2.5, but the final clause, with its rather inexact attribution of úbernatur to a human subject, is omitted. Perhaps it sounded too close to “Free Spirit” teachings to claim that the “disciple” himself could ever be supra naturam without God’s involvement spelled out. 70 Horologium Sapientae prol., Künzle, 366: “Visiones quoque in sequentibus contentae non sunt omnes accipiendae secundum litteram, licet multae ad litteram contingerint, sed est figurata locutio.” 71 HS prol., Künzle, 371: “divina charismata appellantes superstitiosa figmenta, et sanctas revelationes fantasticas deceptiones sanctorumque gesta patrum esse dicunt 68

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Suso then admits that he considered suppressing his work on account of these destroyers until “Divine Wisdom prohibited it altogether by the clearest signs and by beautiful revelations,” when “a certain person” had a vision of the Virgin and Child commanding that the work be released. 72 It seems clear that Suso emerged from conflict with a chip on his shoulder when it came to the interpretation of visions. Once again, and even more sharply than in the Büchlein der Wahrheit, the Horologium Sapientiae pits those who can accurately interpret and distinguish among visions against those who focus exclusively on some sort of intellectual pursuit and denigrate visions along with visionaries. This is not to say that Suso is anti-intellectual; rather, like Henry of Friemar, he objects to those who fail to recognize the higher purpose behind intellectual endeavor. At one point in the Horologium, its protagonist disciple experiences a vision in which he sees three types of theologians: “carnal” ones, who are being deceived by black demons; “animal” ones, who are chasing an elusive silver ball (representing the truth of holy Scripture); and “spiritual” ones, who are being blissfully illumined. 73 The first class is made up of those who pursue studies only in order to enjoy temporal benefits, while Suso faults the second class for failing to read the writings of the holy fathers, especially the Vitae Patrum, and notes that “blinded by self-love, they did not perceive the worm devouring the vitals of their spiritual life, but were only concerned … to be able to hide their inward lack of the life-giving Spirit.” 74 The third class, however, are those who work diligently “so that just as their intellect is full of knowledge, their heart is full of divine wisdom; and so they advance in knowledge of the truth and also in love of the highest good.” They are led inwardly by the Holy Spirit and study the “true

narratorium fabulosam … ipsi vero suas solummodo adinventiones topicas vel propositiones dubias sequuntur tamquam demonstrationes certas, et licet in praedictis diligens cautela sit adhibenda, non tamen spernenda sunt usquequaque.” In 1.6, Suso adds that human intellect uses “images and accepted comparisons” to address incomprehensibility. 72 Ibid.: “divina sapientia per apertissima signa et pulchras revelationes omnino prohibuit …cuidam personae.” The persona here might have been one of Suso’s visionary protégées at a nearby convent. 73 HS 2.1, Künzle, 521–6. There is also a lower mansion filled with those who study the arts and the natural sciences. As Colledge points out, this description owes a little to Augustine’s Confessions and a great deal to Hugh of Saint-Victor (Wisdom’s Watch Upon The Hours, 27–8 and 38). 74 HS 2.1, Künzle, 524: “Qui amore proprio excaecati, non videbant vermem, qui interiora vitae spiritualis corrodit; sed solummodo solliciti erant … vivificatorio autem spiritu deintus carentem compingere possent.” These charges recall Suso’s portrait of the jealous skeptics in the HS prologue (cf. supra); it seems safe to guess that this second class might also be anti-visionary.

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and highest philosophy.” 75 In a series of subsequent visions, the disciple is advised to join the third group instead of gathering honors in the pursuit of worldly knowledge or reading secular philosophy. 76 After all, the disciple realizes, Wisdom is “the most simple and unchanging truth, which can neither deceive nor be deceived.” 77 Once again, Suso juxtaposes the foolishly preoccupied, prideful, anti-visionary intellectual with the increasingly holy, humble, visionary, discerning disciple. The Vita – which, despite its title, was written in German – offers Suso’s most explicit advice on distinguishing between types of visions as it incorporates themes from earlier works. The “servant” whose semihagiographical life is being told experiences numerous “visions of future and hidden things” throughout, ranging from heaven to hell, from Desert Fathers to black demons, and so on. 78 At least one holy woman also has accurate visions about the servant. 79 Yet the servant’s life is filled with concern about being identified with the wrong sorts of people, especially with “some intelligent people” who teach that “anyone striving to achieve perfection … must be made rid of God; he must also be made rid of spirit and must reject all visions, turning along to the truth shining within which this person is himself.” 80 As before, these wrong sorts are not simply intellectuals. Indeed, the servant approves of those who live a life based on reason, “a praiseworthy, godlike reason because it shines back into them with hidden truth.” 81 Unfortunately, he also has to deal with “those who aim only at themselves with their nature unbroken, using their reason only to look at things – probingly inspecting them – and then speak arrogantly about them in front of uninformed people, completely ignoring the fact that

HS 2.1, Künzle, 526: “ut sicut intellectus eorum scientia, sic et affectus eorum divina sapientia repleatur; et sicut proficiunt in cognitione veri, sic et in amore summi boni. … illius verae et summae philosophiae.” 76 HS 2.3. 77 HS 2.4, Künzle, 553: “Simplicissima et immutabilis veritas, quae mentiri et fallere non potes.” 78 The phrase is from Vita 6, Bihlmeyer, 22 (Tobin, 74): “vision kúnftiger und verborgenr dingen.” 79 Anna, in Vita 37, who sees demonic spirits plotting to harm and/or kill the servant (Bihlmeyer, 115). 80 Vita 51, Bihlmeyer, 181 (Tobin, 194): “etlichú vernúnftigú menschen … wer zů dem nehsten welle komen, dem sie got ein schedliches mitel; er mues entgœtet werden, er můsse och entgeistet sin und alle vision ze ruggen stossen, und sich zů der inlúhtenden warheit allein keren, die er selb selber ist.” 81 Vita 46, Bihlmeyer, 156 (Tobin, 175): “ein gotfœrmigú loblichú vernunft, wan si widerlúhtet in ir selb mit togenlicher warheit.” 75

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unbefitting words or deeds might be the consequence.” 82 This sort of disordered thinking, which comes from turning the light of reason outward but not inward, leads to a “free and careless manner of speaking” and to heretical doctrines such as indistinct union. 83 Suso makes himself very clear here: it is not reason that is at fault, but its misapplication. Unfortunately, as in the Büchlein der Wahrheit, not everyone in the servant’s life can grasp the distinctions he makes, and so he is regularly accused of spreading false or heretical teachings, most strikingly of causing a lord’s daughter and others “to take up a strange mode of life that is called ‘spirit,’ and those who thus live are called ‘men and women of the spirit’ … the most perverted group of people on earth.” 84 When the servant’s spiritual daughter cites the example of the “intelligent people” who reject God along with all visions, the servant corrects her, noting that the perfect person may reject a crass image of God but through constant devotion to God and spiritual contemplation reaches a stage in which the spirit remains but possesses nothing of its own. 85 He then turns to the problem of unreliable visions, and promises to tell his daughter “how to distinguish [unterscheid] between pure truth and dubious visions originating in sense knowledge.” 86 Most of this advice seems to be taken from Augustine, with the assurance that “direct sight of the naked Godhead … is pure genuine truth without any doubts. And every vision, the more intellectual and free of images it is and the more like this same pure seeing, the nobler it is.” 87 More imaginative visions and dreams are the problem: “how can one come to the truth [underschaid] since such dreams often Ibid.: “dú uf ir selbs bilde zilent mit einer unerbrochenr nature und allein mit ir vernunft na schœwlicher wise dú ding scharpflich an sehent, und dur von úbermueteklich vor unwússenden menschen kunnen reden in einr verahtunge alles des, daz dar uf mœhti gevallen missvallendes mit rede oder mit geteten.” 83 Vita 46, Bihlmeyer, 157 (Tobin, 175): “frien und unbesorgeten sprúchen.” 84 Vita 28, Bihlmeyer, 83 (Tobin, 121): “verkeret in ein sunder leben, daz heisset der geist, und die in der selben wise sind, die heissent die geister und die geisterin … daz verkertest volg, dar uf ertrich lebt. See also Lerner, Heresy, 10–34, for a reasoned approach to the familiar medieval (and, for that matter, classical) topos of sexually perverse heretics and its application to the “heresy of the Free Spirit.” 85 Vita 51. Tobin, in “Henry Suso and Elsbeth Stagel,” 135, notes that “In the final chapters of the Vita, Suso returns to the realm of speculative mysticism that he had cautiously avoided since writing the Little Book of Truth and the accusations of heresy which followed.” 86 Vita 51, Bihlmeyer, 183 (Tobin, 195): “Den underscheid enzwúschen luter warheit und zwifellichen visionen in bekennender materie.” 87 Ibid.: “Ein mitelloses schowen der blossen gotheit, daz ist rehtú lutrú warheit ane allen zwivel; und ein ieklichú vision, so si ie vernúnftiger und bildloser ist und der selben blosser schowung ie glicher ist, so si ie edelr ist.” 82

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deceive and yet without a doubt they are sometimes prophetic? 88 Suso’s solution comes – as did Olivi’s in the Epistola – from Augustine’s remarks about his mother Monica and her discernment of dreams. In Suso’s words, [T]he ability to distinguish [underschaid] was given her within, so that she recognized whether it was just an ordinary dream and should be disregarded, or whether it was a vision using images and was to be taken seriously. And the person to whom God has given this same gift can better find his own way in this matter. No one can explain this to another just with words. One knows it by experiencing it. 89

And there ends the Vita’s advice on the discernment of spirits. Although this answer raises many questions in the minds of modern readers, it seems to have satisfied the servant’s spiritual daughter and, presumably, Suso himself. At the end of the Vita, he notes that those who have achieved spiritual perfection “can see things in their secret nature and deal with them prudently with careful discernment [gůten underscheide],” but this level of spirituality is far from common. 90 Moreover, the truth is “beyond images and as unlike them as a black Moor is unlike the beautiful sun…beyond ideas and knowledge.” 91 There is an apophatic flavor to these ending chapters: Suso ultimately grounds the ability to distinguish between divine and common visions in an inexpressible, unquantifiable experience and then confirms the utter dissimilarity of any image or idea to the truth. In his earlier works, he hinted at the difficulty of underscheid and noted the fine line between grace and nature. Now, in the 1360s and nearing the end of his life, he explicitly leaves as much as possible to God. Yet he does not waver on the potential utility of visions in spiritual guidance. They are as important in the Vita as they were in the Büchlein der Wahrheit thirtyplus years earlier. Unlike Henry of Friemar, Suso is not sure that it is possible to distinguish between nature and grace. It is, however, possible to distinguish between those who use their natural abilities to move toIbid., Bihlmeyer, 183 (Tobin, 196): “wie man hie kunne underschaid der warheit vinden, wan die trœme gemeinlich triegent und och ane allen zwivel underwilent war sagent?” Suso also offers biblical examples for different types of visions. 89 Ibid.: “so ward ir dur mitte der underschaid von innen geben, daz si wol erkande, ob es allain ain gemaine trom waz, der nút ze ahten waz, ald ob es wax ein biltlich vision, dar an sich ze keren waz. Und welem menschen got die selben gabe git, der kan sich dest bas hier inne berihten. Es kan nieman dem anderen wol mit worten geben, denn der merkt es, der es enpfunden hat.” Cf. Chapter One on Augustine and the Confessions passage and Chapters Two and Six for other uses of the same passage. 90 Vita 53, Bihlmeyer, 193 (Tobin, 202): “Er kan dú ding togenlich an sehen und vernúnfteklich us rihten nah ire gůten underscheide.” 91 Ibid., Bihlmeyer, 193–4 (Tobin, 203): “sind der bildlosen warheit als verr und als ungelich, als ein swarzer mor der schœnen sunnen…unbekanten einvaltekeit.” (Suso explains that this is due to the truth’s being “formlosen,” which Tobin translates as “absolute simplicity” but which also has the basic sense of “formless” or “shapeless.”) 88

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wards grace and those who use the same abilities to move away from it. In fact, according to Suso, one of the signs of being on the right spiritual path is this very ability to discern or make distinctions.

Democratizing Distinctions Another Dominican follower of Eckhart’s, Johannes Tauler (c.1300–61), evolved a very different response to the linked problems of Ad nostrum, In agro dominico, and visionary piety. Tauler, who was born c. 1300 into an upper-class burgher family of Strassburg, might conceivably have met Eckhart during the latter’s visitation to the Strassburg Dominican house in 1314, but Tauler’s acquaintance with Eckhart’s theology must have come as a result of his later studies. 92 He followed the Dominican course of education through Peter Lombard’s Sentences, then underwent further training for his eventual role as preacher to and spiritual director for Dominican nuns, beguines, and secular audiences, mostly in or around Strassburg and Basel. Apocryphal tradition credited Tauler with the authorship of numerous works not his own and identified him with the illuminated “master” in the semi-legendary Meisterbuch. 93 This misattribution aside, Tauler was clearly a pivotal figure in the development of fourteenth-century German vernacular spirituality, drawing on Eckhart and Suso and known to Ruusbroec, the “Friends of God” circle of Margaret Ebner, and the banker-turned-mystic Rulman Merswin. Despite these witnesses, however, and despite his impact on later figures including Martin Luther, the only certain testament to Tauler’s thought comes from approximately eighty extant (but mostly undatable) sermons in Middle High German. 94 The best recent biography of Tauler (including a clear explanation of Tauler’s relation to the Meisterbuch tradition and to Merswin’s circle) is Louise Gnädiger’s Johannes Tauler: Lebenswelt und mystische Lehre (München: Verlag C.H. Beck, 1993), 9–103. A less detailed version in English is Josef Schmidt’s introduction to Johannes Tauler: Sermons, trans. Maria Schrady (Mahwah, NJ: Paulist Press, 1985), 1–9. For more on Tauler’s Dominican context, cf. Ephrem Filthaut, “Johannes Tauler und die deutsche Dominikanerscholastik des XIII./XIV. Jahrhunderts,” in Johannes Tauler, ein deutscher Mystiker, ed. Filthaut (Essen: Hans Driewer Verlag, 1961), 94–121, and McGinn, Harvest, 240ff. 93 The Meisterbuch is addressed in its own right below; cf. infra. 94 The MHG edition still in use is Ferdinand Vetter, Die Predigten Taulers (Deutsche Texte des Mittelalters 11) (Berlin: Weidmannsche Buchhandlung, 1910). However, Vetter’s ordering of the sermons was improved upon by the French translation of A.L. Corin, E. Hugueney, and G. Théry, Sermons de J. Tauler (Paris: Bibliothèque de la Faculté de Philosophie et Lettres de l’Université de Liège, 1924–9), which also added 92

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Like Suso, Tauler is comfortable accepting and drawing from the visions of especially holy contemporaries, including the “Canaanite woman” in Sermon 9 and “our [Dominican] sister up in the country” in Sermon 31, who “saw with her bodily eyes … but this is not the way in which our Lord gives himself to us.” 95 As Tauler indicates, these visions are not granted to everyone and do not always turn out as expected: Tauler reports one instance in which a Dominican sister wanted to see Jesus as a little child, and when she did, the child was wrapped in an impenetrable thorny robe. 96 Hildegard of Bingen’s visions are also cited in several instances and described in some detail. 97 Of course, spiritual knowledge offers a clearer vision of truth than either rational or sensory knowledge, and the highest form of walking in the spirit is imageless (unbiltlichen). 98 Detachment from images is ultimately necessary in order to achieve self-detachment. 99 Tauler repeatedly cautions against seeking spiritual delights or illumination instead of repose in God, calling those who do so thieves (dieben) who “[want] to have pleasure, consolation, tasting and feeling, and to be great, holy, and blessed, with knowledge and wisdom” without losing themselves. 100 Some, he warns, find a false liberty in the sweetness of the Holy two sermons published by Dick Helander in Johannes Tauler als Predigter (Uppsala: Almqvist & Wiksell boktrycheri-A.B., 1923), 346–51. Contemporary scholarship thus uses the numbering from the Corin translation but the text from the Vetter edition, and I have followed suit here, adding the original Vetter numbering in parentheses. There is no complete modern English translation of all Tauler’s sermons, although a good number are translated in either Spiritual Conferences by John Tauler, O.P., trans. Edmund Colledge and Sister Mary Jane (St. Louis: B. Herder Book Co., 1961), or Johannes Tauler: Sermons. I have drawn on these versions in making my own translations. 95 Sermon 9 (Vetter 9, 45): “ein Cananee.” Sermon 31 (V60ff., 311): “ein unser swester oben im lande…. Dis sach si mit iren liplichen ǒgen; dis enhat unser herre nút geton.” The visions are, respectively, of God surrounded by the Virgin and saints, and of angels and light surrounding a priest elevating the host at the altar. Some scholars have speculated that the swester oben im lande may be Margaret Ebner, a Dominican nun who experienced similar visions; cf. Colledge and Jane, Spiritual Conferences, 259. 96 This is Sermon 60 by Corin’s count; it does not appear in Vetter but in Helander, Tauler als Predigter, 346–51. 97 Cf. Sermon 31 (Vetter 60f, 311) and Sermon 68 (V etter 69, 379). In the latter sermon, Tauler notes that the nuns whom he is addressing have a copy of some of Hildegard’s visions (probably the Scivias) in their own library. 98 Cf. Sermon 4 (Vetter 4, 20–1) and Sermon 61 (V etter 47, 208), respectively. 99 Cf. Sermon 6 (Vetter 6, 25ff.). 100 Sermon 27 (Vetter 27, 112): “und so wil sú lust, trost, smacken und fůlen haben und wil also gros sin, also heilige, also selig, und bekenne und wissen.” Cf. also Sermon 54 (Vetter 46, 201ff.), in which the true seeker after God is compared to a hunting dog, and Sermon 57 (Vetter 52, 234ff.), in which Tauler warns communicants against abusing spiritual delights.

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Spirit; others seek a false passivity, refraining from all activity. 101 In case it is not already clear that Tauler knew Ad nostrum, he also warns against those beghards who are “false Christians” and against “Free Spirits, because they believe that they have known the truth by their own false lights, and they float in the midst of their own admiring eyes and pleasant appearance. These people give themselves up to a false passivity of their own, and say dishonest things about our Lord.” 102 Divine revelations or gifts are no guarantee of salvation, Tauler warns, but trust in God will defeat the devil’s snares and deceits, and it is also wise to practice virtue while avoiding subtle men who advocate dangerous forms of spirituality. 103 Although Tauler’s sermons are perforce less systematic than Suso’s treatises, a similar set of concerns emerges: Tauler does not want his followers to be mistaken for Free Spirits, either by distancing themselves from the practice of virtue or by misusing their natural reasoning abilities to draw inappropriate conclusions about God. These inappropriate conclusions may or may not be overtly intellectual, but although Tauler cites scholastic authorities frequently, he clearly indicates that mere scholars lack the powers of understanding possessed by one who is truly united with God. At one point, the “great masters of Paris who read their great books and turn their leaves about” are contrasted unfavorably with those who “read from the living book inside which everything is alive.” 104 In fact, Tauler points out that those held captive to natural reason (vernunft) are unable to make the distinction (underscheit) between the outwardturning natural light and the inward-turning divine light. These unfortunates “spoil the clarity of everything which should be born in the spirit – be it doctrine or truth – so that it falls into reason.” 105 It is not reason but faith which really helps people withstand the everyday deceits of the devil, Tauler asserts, although once faith has won them angelic help, “men Cf. Sermon 24 (Vetter 24) and Sermon 77 (Vetter 48), among others. The reference to “begharten” who are “valschen cristenen” is from Sermon 36 (Vetter 36, 138). The Free Spirits appear in Sermon 52 (Vetter 54, 250): “die frijen geiste, die mit iren valschen liechtern wenent die worheit bekant han, und swimment do mit uf in ir eigen beheglicheit und in ir gůt dunklicheit und kerent den sin in ir valsche lidikeit und sprechent us dem unserm herren unerlichen, ob man noch nút úber die bilde in si komen, und andere frije wort.” 103 This advice is condensed from Sermon 25 (Vetter 60e, 304ff). 104 Sermon 69 (Vetter 78, 421): “Die grossen meister von Paris die lesent die grossen bůcher und kerent die bletter umb; est ist wol gůt, aber dise lebent das lebende bůch, do es alles inne lebet.” 105 Sermon 19 (Vetter 19, 77): “alz daz in dem geiste solte geborn werden, daz verderbent die lúte domitte das sú domitte flogierent in der vernunft, es si lere, es si worheit.” 101 102

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become so reasonable and so wise that they fully know the mischief of the fiends.” 106 In order to further disarm the fiends, Tauler recommends that his now-advanced listeners seek true liberty of spirit by renouncing all attachments and entering into their own depths, coming eventually to an apophatically described union with God and a divinely inspired awareness of their own unimportance: “And this is how one knows the truth of this light: if it be the divine God shining into his own being, neither in images nor in [his] faculties, but in the ground of the soul, then it will make the man sink down more deeply into his own nothingness.” 107 This advice, Tauler notes, is provided explicitly “against the Free Spirits.” 108 The ability to look inward and distinguish between true and false experiences of God, which is lacking among both Free Spirits and Parisian masters, is granted to the spiritually adept throughout Tauler’s sermons. On the one hand, Tauler offers signs by which outside observers can identify the falsely religious: for example, one who has truly been touched by God will follow up on a virtuous beginning, but the individual lacking this touch will backslide and revert to natural pleasures. 109 Sermon 43, which gives the most extensive listing of such signs, describes deluded people whose lives are ruled by natural reason, which they mistake for the workings of God in their soul, and who have tried to free their minds of images before they were prepared to do so. These unfortunates can be identified by their neglect of virtuous practice, their false passivity, their contentiousness, and ultimately their false claims to freedom of the spirit, which lead to unrestricted indulgence in natural inclinations. Although they have been deluded by the devil, Tauler says, they should be shunned more than the devil himself because they so closely resemble true lovers of God. 110 The latter can be distinguished (underscheit) by their cultivation of Reason as the eye of the mind, blinded by self-love and regard for creatures, is featured in Sermon 51 (Vetter 45, 195). Reason as far-seeing but unable to penetrate into the inward light of grace is in Sermon 44 (Vetter 61, 330). The idea of angels strengthening human faculties is from Sermon 67 (Vetter 68, 375): “die menschen als vernúnftig werdent und als wise das si die schalkeit der vijende als wol bekennent.” The general idea that the devil cannot stand against faith and prayer appears in many of Tauler’s sermons, but especially Sermon 41 (Vetter 41, 173): “du besessen mit Gotte … alle creaturen nút getriben noch entsetzen.” 107 Tauler’s advice about true liberty of spirit can be found in Sermon 77 (Vetter 48, 214ff.); the quotation comes from Sermon 52 (Vetter 54, 249–50): “Und do an sol man bekennen worheit dis gœtlichen in lúchtens das es ein weselich in lúchten ist gewesen, nút in bilden oder in die krefte, sunder in den grunt der selen, do an das der mensche tieffer versinkt in sin eigen nicht.” 108 Sermon 52 (Vetter 54, 250): “Dis ist wider die frijen geiste.” 109 Sermon 20 (Vetter 20, 81–2). 110 Sermon 43 (Vetter 40, 167). 106

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virtues, restraint, and fear of divine judgment – yet Tauler does not seem sanguine about easily telling the two groups apart, and advises his listener to turn inwardly to God instead of listening to false advice. 111 It is equally tricky to distinguish divine and diabolic (or simply mundane) impulses within one’s own soul. At one point, Tauler tells his audience that grace could lead them to a union with God which would allow them to distinguish between the false love of the devil and the true love of God from within the ground of the soul, but they resist this grace out of complacency. 112 Elsewhere he explains that another captivity of the soul is spiritual sweetness or consolation (suessekeit des geistes), warning against confusing natural with divinely inspired joy. Tauler’s suggestion for distinguishing (here the verb is pruefen) between God and nature evokes both Athanasius and Henry of Friemar: “If one finds himself restless and distressed and perturbed as soon as the consolation begins to fail and diminish, unable to serve God as willingly and as faithfully as before, then he may be sure that he never really possessed God.” 113 The most extensive treatment of these issues, however, and the only one to bring up the language of discernment of spirits, is in Sermon 47, which addresses the gifts of the Spirit. Tauler begins his discussion by noting that while the Spirit once caused miraculous signs and fulfilled prophecies as a witness to the Christian faith, these wonders are no longer as necessary today. Nevertheless, present-day Christians should pay closer attention to the Spirit’s promptings. Tauler advises his listeners to be conscientious and cautious in determining what the Spirit wants, since all sorts of vocations and careers can lead to the Spirit. There is a definite democratization of the Spirit here. Tauler even asserts that, had he not been a priest, he would have been happy as a shoemaker, and cites the spiritual experiences of farmers and ploughmen. 114 Although Tauler is far from antinomian, he is certainly not maintaining rigid distinctions between clergy and laity in matters of spiritual practice. Finally, near the end of the sermon, Tauler quotes Paul as saying “the Spirit operates and gives discernment of spirits [underscheit der geiste],” Ibid. (167–8). Sermon 44 (Vetter 61, 335). 113 Sermon 19 (Vetter 19, 78): “obe der mensche sich vindet ungeruewig und in unfrieden und in bandekeit, so ime die suesskeit empfellet und enget, und gekan Gotte also gerne und also getrúwelichen nút gedienen noch nút gesin also ob er dis hette, do sol man es bekennen.” There are echoes here of 1 John 4:1, which runs in the Lutherbibel: “Ihr Lieben, glaubt nicht einem jeden Geist, sondern prüft die Geister, ob sie von Gott sind; denn es sind viele falsche Propheten ausgegangen in die Welt.” 114 Sermon 47 (Vetter 42, 178–9). Both turn inward for spiritual advice, as Tauler recommends. 111 112

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then rhetorically asks his audience what sort of people receive this gift. 115 Tauler’s next words outline both the qualifications of the “discerner” and the definition of underscheit der geiste: Know, that they are the men who have been tried in all ways, through flesh and through blood, and they have undergone the most cruel and severe temptations, and the fiend has passed through them and they through him, and they have been tried through bone and marrow. And these men understand the discernment of spirits. When they want to apply this [gift] and look at people, they immediately know whether or not their spirits are of God, and what paths lead them to or hinder them from reaching him. 116

Obviously, Tauler here envisions the discernment of spirits as a gift reserved for the spiritual elite, those individuals (the language is gendered, but not gender-specific) who have been tried repeatedly and have come through the trials successfully. 117 The interesting thing about this passage, however, is its uniqueness: nowhere else in Tauler’s sermons does the notion of underscheit der geiste come up, and nowhere else does Tauler seem comfortable referring his audience to any sort of expert. Indeed, he warns against self-proclaimed spiritual experts repeatedly, and once earlier in this same sermon! It is difficult to extrapolate from sermons which might have been preached decades apart, but it seems likely that Tauler felt the traditional monastic model of third-party discernment was handicapped precisely by his situation among Free Spirits (actual or imagined), Parisian schoolmen, and a host of other claimants to the rank of spiritual expert. Although he does not resort to the language of inexpressibility as Suso does, Tauler’s extant oeuvre suggests discomfort with the ever more necessary possibility of expert-driven underscheit der geiste, even as he offers extensive sets of guidelines for telling Free Spirits from genuine spiritual adepts and insists that most forms of underscheit come directly from God. Ibid. (180): “der geist wúrket und git underscheit der geiste.” This seems to be a combination of phrases from 1 Cor. 12:10–11, which in the Lutherbibel edition runs: “einem andern die Kraft, Wunder zu tun; einem andern prophetische Rede; einem andern die Gabe, die Geister zu unterscheiden; einem andern mancherlei Zungenrede; einem andern die Gabe, sie auszulegen. Dies alles aber wirkt derselbe eine Geist und teilt einem jeden das Seine zu, wie er will.” The text for Sermon 47 is actually 1 Cor. 12:6. 116 Ibid.: “Wissent, die lúte die das sint, die sint also durch geuebet in aller wise durch fleisch und durch blůt, und sint die bekorunge durch si gegangen in den grúwelichesten und in den sweresten wisen, und der vijent ist durch si gevarn und si wider durch in, und is marg und bein durch geuebet. Und dise lúte bekennent underscheit der geiste. Wenne si sich dar zů wellent keren und si die lúte ansehent, al zehant so bekennent si ir geiste obe si von Gotte sin oder nút, und weles die nechsten zů genge sin und was si des hindere.” 117 This “elite” is reminiscent of the Desert Fathers tradition, probably deliberately. 115

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A Dialectic of Indistinction Tauler’s sphere of activity seems to have been greater – or, at any rate, better documented – than Suso’s, and one tradition implies that he visited Groenendaal, a private religious community outside Brussels, where a group of disaffected secular clerics had created an Augustinian priory and were trying to live a quiet, semi-monastic lifestyle. 118 The most famous of Groenendaal’s three founders was unquestionably Jan van Ruusbroec (1293–1381), a priest who had spent twenty-six years as chaplain at the collegiate church of St. Gudula in Brussels, battling heresy and writing treatises on the proper path to divine union. After his move to Groenendaal in 1343, he continued to write and to watch as his own works were translated into other languages. Whether or not Tauler actually visited Groenendaal, by c. 1350 Tauler’s lay followers in Strassburg had access to a Low Alemannic translation of Die geestelike brulocht (The Spiritual Espousals), Ruusbroec’s most famous work and the one most concerned with issues of discernment. 119 Nearly all of Ruusbroec’s eleven treatises and assorted letters include references to misguided yet prevalent attempts to live a spiritual life. 120 Indeed, in several of his works Ruusbroec traces a progression of inappropriate spiritual choices. In Vanden vier becoringhen (The Four Temptations), written c. 1340 in Brussels, the four temptations On whether Tauler was the mysterious Dominican doctor “Canclaer,” whom Ruusbroec’s biographer Pomerius cited as a visitor to Groenendaal, cf., among others, the biographical sketch in John Ruusbroec: The Spiritual Espousals and Other Works, ed. and trans. James A. Wiseman (Mahwah, NJ: Paulist Press, 1985), 1–37. On Ruusbroec’s life and mysticism, cf. McGinn, Harvest; Paul Verdeyen, Ruusbroec and His Mysticism (Collegeville, MN: Liturgical Press, 1994); Geert Warnar, Ruusbroec: Literature and Mysticism in the Fourteenth Century (Leiden: Brill, 2007); and the articles in Jan van Ruusbroec: The Sources, Content and Sequels of His Mysticism, as well as the introductions to the English/Latin/Dutch parallel editions of the Ruusbroecgenootschap critical texts published in the Corpus Christianorum Continuatio Mediaevalis series (Turnholt: Brepols, 1988-). I have used their excellent English translations in the text of this monograph and provided the Middle Dutch text (with the editors’ omissions omitted rather than bracketed for clarity) in footnotes, along with page numbers for anyone who wishes to examine the sixteenth-century Latin version. 119 This translation is briefly addressed in the introduction to the CCCM edition of Die geestelike brulocht, ed. J. Alaerts (Turnholt: Brepols, 1988), 113. On Rulman Merswin’s circle and its exposure to Ruusbroec, cf. infra. 120 On Ruusbroec’s anti-heretical activity, an exhaustive list of passages (though without the benefit of the modern critical edition) is in J. van Mierlo, “Ruusbroec’s bestrijding van der ketterij,” Ons geestelijk erf 6 (1932): 304–46. A more concise summary of Ruusbroec’s anti-Free-Spirit polemic can be found in Lerner, Heresy, 190–5, and a useful study of the “false mystics” in the Boeesken der verclaringhe is J. Feys, “Ruusbroec and his false mystics,” Ons geestelijk erf 65 (1991): 108–24. 118

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of the title are personified as individuals who have yielded to temptation. The first follows his natural inclination, remains “manifold, and always walks outward with the holy Scriptures to find pleasure in himself and his knowledge. …[T]hose who follow him shall never reach the real truth, nor shall he. … For he will not submit to the Spirit of God, nor to anyone else.” 121 Similarly, the third type of individual delights in natural knowledge to such an extent that he believes he can reach the first truth and understand the Scriptures through natural light alone. 122 But the standard portrait of the self-involved scholar in Vanden vier becoringhen is followed by and related to a second type, the self-important visionary. Wrongly imagining that the saints’ lives are to be taken as examples, this individual wants God “to send him an angel or a saint to tell him and teach him how to live and whether his life is pleasing to God. And some want God to send them a special message written with golden letters, or else they want God to reveal his will in visions and dreams.” 123 These unhappy souls combine hypocrisy and spiritual pride, so that they become Pharisees and believe that the highest holiness is found in outward works. Their desire for special revelations can easily lead them further astray: “if our Lord allows the devil to show them dreams and visions in which they find glory and grow complacent, they will be deceived even more and become so self-willed that they shall hardly ever be able to turn back to God.” 124 In this case, it seems, they may join the fourth group of tempted people, who have turned inward, into themselves, and excised images from their understanding without any genuine knowledge of God and without practicing either inner or outer good works. “This leads to great unbelief and a perverse, false freedom of spirit,” Ruusbroec explains. 125 In other works written over a thirty-year span, he explains that these individuals are Ruusbroec, Vanden vier becoringhen, in CCCM vol. 110, ed. G. de Baere et al. (Turnhout: Brepols, 1991), 258 (English) and 259 (Dutch): “menichfuldich es met der heyliger scriftueren altoes uutweert gheet in een behagen sijns selfs ende zijnder const… die hem volgen, si en comen nemmermeer ter gherechter warheit, noch hi mede. Want hi en wilt den gheeste gods noch niemene wiken.” 122 Ibid., 282–5. 123 Ibid., 274 and 276 (English) and 275 and 277 (Dutch): “hem sinde enen inghel oft eenen helighen die segghe ende leere hoe hi leven sal ende oft sijn leven gode behaecht. Ende selc beghert dat hem god sinde enen sonderlinghen brief met gulden letteren, oft in visione oft in drome vertoene sinen wille.” 124 Ibid., 278 and 280 (English) and 279 and 281 (Dutch): “eest alsoe [dat onse heere ghedoecht] dat hem de viant vertoene drome ende visioene dae si in glorieren ende hem selven behaghen, dan werden si noch meer bedroghen ende soe eyghen in hem selven, dat si cume nemmermeer bekeeren moghen.” 125 Ibid., 288–305; the quote is on 290 (English) and 291 (Dutch): “Ende hier ute comt groet onghelove ende verkeerde valsche vriheit van gheeste.” 121

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seeking “modelessness above reason” and “spiritual liberty.” 126 They live perversely and according to their natural inclinations, believing themselves to be above the sacraments of the Church, the teachings of Christ, and the commandments of God. Some of them even believe themselves to be Christ or God, but they are united only to the dark emptiness of their own beings, which they mistake for God. 127 “In this, and in the like,” Ruusbroec observes, “many people are deceived who seem spiritual and are more evil than devils.” 128 In his final work, Vanden XII beghinen (The Twelve Beguines), he warns his readers in scriptural language to “mark these false prophets, lest you be deceived.” 129 Most of Ruusbroec’s works avoid the question of how false prophets are to be “marked,” mentioning ondersc(h)eet (the Middle Dutch cognate of MHG underscheit) most often in dealing with the vexed issue of union with God. In contrast to Suso and more explicitly than Tauler, Ruusbroec argues that a union of indistinction is possible, but only for a few souls at high levels of spiritual progress and only for short periods in this life. His teaching about the dialectic of distinction and indistinction means that reason and images, both associated with distinction, are also continuous but are modified by divinely infused grace at the higher levels of spiritual progress, so that truly spiritual people look inward “sometimes with reason and with images and in modes; sometimes above reason, without images, and without mode. When it is with reason, then it is also full of desire and full of wisdom.” 130 However, Ruusbroec does occasionally mention ondersceet in a sense that seems closer to discretio than distinctio: in Vanden blinkenden steen, he explains that those who have reached the elevated spiritual state of God’s secret friends enjoy “clear understanding and discernment (ondersceet) of all reasonable virtues,” and notes that “Modelessness above reason”: from Ruusbroec, Een spieghel der eeuwigher salicheit (Mirror of Eternal Blessedness), CCCM vol. 108, ed. G. de Baere et al. (Turnhout: Brepols, 2001), 344 (English) and 345 (Dutch), “onwise boven redene.” “Spiritual liberty” from Ruusbroec, Boecksen der verclaringhe (Little Book of Enlightenment), CCCM vol. 101, ed. G. de Baere et al. (Turnhout: Brepols, 1989), 118 (English) and 119 (Dutch), “geesteleke vrieheit.” 127 Ibid. 128 Ruusbroec, Spieghel, 344 (English and 345 (Dutch): “in dit ende in dese ghelike werden vele menschen bedroghen die gheestelec schinen ende quadere sijn dan duvele.” 129 Ruusbroec, Vanden XII beghinen, CCCM vol. 107A, ed. Mikel Mario Kors et al. (Turnhout: Brepols, 2000), 90 (English) and 91 (Dutch): “Nu merct dese valsche propheten, opdat ghi niet bedroghen en wert” [Matt. 7:15]. 130 Ruusbroec, Een spieghel der eeuwigher salicheit, 324 (English) and 325 (Dutch): “Hare insien es bi wilen redelec ende ghebeelt ende in wisen, bi wilen boven redene, beedelooes ende sonder wise. Alst redelec es, soe eest oec begheerlec ende vol wijsheiden.” 126

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“God calls such friends and invites them inward and teaches them discretion (onderscheet) in inner practice and the many hidden ways of the life spiritual.” 131 Interestingly, “secret friends” are only the penultimate level of this spiritual hierarchy: they still experience distinction (ondersceet) in the divine union, while God’s hidden sons do not. 132 Discernment among virtues is a lofty goal, but not the end of Ruusbroec’s spiritual path. 133 Die geestelike brulocht has much the same dialectic with respect to ondersceet-as-distinction: at one point, Ruusbroec explains that the divine image “has an eternal indwelling without distinction, into the divine being; and it has an eternal out-flowing, through the birth of the Son, into an otherness, with distinction, according to eternal reason.” 134 However, DGB was written in the mid-1330s, during the decade when In agro dominico was first making its impact felt, and was probably intended as a response to comments that Ruusbroec’s first treatise had been insufficiently clear about the limits of union without distinction. 135 Thus, it should come as no surprise that DGB offers advice about how one should avoid falling into error while seeking union with God and about how one should identify those who have already fallen into such error. As in Ruusbroec’s other works, this material falls squarely into the second of three stages of spiritual life: those in the first stage are simply reminded that humility can defeat the snares of the devil. 136 During the second stage, however, the wise person should emulate a bee and “fly with attention and with reason and with discernment [ondersceede] onto all the gifts and onto all the

Ruusbroec, Vanden blinkenden steen, CCCM vol. 110, 134 (English) and 135 (Dutch): “clear verstaen ende ondersceet van allen redelijcken duechden,” then 128 (English) and 129 (Dutch): “Alsulcke vriende roept ende noedt god inweert, ende leer hem onderscheet in inwindigher oefeninghen ende menighe verborghen wise gheestelijcs levens.” 132 Ibid., 134–5. 133 Cf. also ibid., 166–7, where Ruusbroec compares the state of being able to learn “discernment in all virtues and all the truth which is profitable to our mortal state” (“ondersceet in alle duechden ende alle die warheit die onsen sterfelijcken stat orhborlijc es”) to someone indirectly illuminated by the sun while remaining in shadow. 134 Die geestelike brulocht, CCCM vol. 103, ed. J. Alaerts et al. (Turnholt: Brepols, 1988), 588 (English) and 589 (Dutch): “het hevet een eewich inbliven sonder onderscheet in dat godlijcke wesen, ende het hevet een eewich uutvlieten, overmids die ghebort des soens, in eere anderheit, met ondersceede na eewigher redenen.” 135 This first treatise (Das rijcke der ghelieven, or The Realm/Kingdom of Lovers) seems to have been distributed without Ruusbroec’s knowledge and against his better judgment. Cf. Wiseman, Ruusbroec, 7–8. 136 Ruusbroec, Die geestelike brulocht, 216–7. 131

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sweetness which he ever felt.” 137 One of the most notable spiritual gifts, Ruusbroec continues, is when people “are addressed through words, or shown by images and by likenesses, some truth which they or others need, or future things. These are called revelations or visions.” 138 In the following pages, Ruusbroec neatly summarizes the traditional Augustinian definitions: intellectual visions involve being lifted out of one’s senses by the divine, while an imaginary vision or dream “may come from nature or from the fiend or from the good angel. And this is why we may esteem it insofar as it conforms to the holy Scripture and to the truth, and no more; one who wishes to give it more value is easily deceived.” 139 The devil, Ruusbroec explains, can produce deceptive images which combine truth and falsehood while inspiring a false sweetness. 140 Sometimes, however, God may send a pure and simple light – an attribute of the Holy Spirit – which shines in the spirit without distinction (onderscheet, of course), and by means of this grace an individual can attain spiritual clarity at God’s will, providing onderscheet “in many a mode” and “in all virtues.” 141 Such enlightened souls do not need revelations or raptures because they live and exist above the senses and in the spirit. Nevertheless, Ruusbroec points out, God can deprive these people of outward senses and show them “alien images within and future things in many a mode” if God so desires. 142 Ruusbroec never confirms whether the person in this charismatic state can distinguish divine from diabolic images, but several chapters later he provides a more practical alternative: three signs for identifying those subtle, wrong-minded, unvirtuous individIbid., 334 (English) and 335 (Dutch): “vlieghen met ghemercke ende met redenen ende met ondersceede op alle die gaven ende op alle die sueticheit diere hi ye ghevoelde.” 138 Ibid., 346 (English) and 347 (Dutch): “hem wert toeghesproken met woorden, oft ghetoent met beelden ende met gheliken eenighe waerheit diere hem noot is ochte anderen menschen, ochte toecomende dinghen. Dit heten revelacien ochte visione.” 139 Ibid., 350–2 (English) and 351–3 (Dutch): “mach natuerlijcke sijn, ochte vanden viant, ochte vanden goeden inghel. Ende hier omme, also verre alst der heyligher scriftueren ghelijc es ende der waerheit, soe machmenre af houden, ende niet meer; wiltmenre meer af houden, men werdet lichte bedroghen.” 140 Ibid., 356–9. It is clear that Ruusbroec has also read Cassian, judging from his use of the familiar counterfeit-coin analogy in Der seven sloten (The Seven Enclosures). Cf. Chapter One and Gerson’s use of this analogy in Chapter Six. 141 Ruusbroec, Die geestelike brulocht, 402 (English) and 403 (Dutch): “ondersceede in menigher wisen…. ondersceet in allen duechden.” The CCCM edition translates both occurrences of ondersceet as “distinction,” but Surius translates the former into Latin as “discrete ac distincte” and the latter as “discretionem.” 142 Ibid., 404 (English) and 405 (Dutch): “van binnen vremde ghelijcke ende toecomende dighe in menigher wise.” 137

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uals who are described in his other works “in order that these people may learn to know themselves and may be recognized by others.” 143 The first sign, he explains, will allow them to recognize themselves: they are manifold, unsteady, constantly speculative, lacking inward unity, and unable to attain a state of imageless quiet, while enlightened people are steady and unified. 144 The second sign contrasts an enlightened person, who has infused wisdom from God “by which he recognizes the truth distinctly [met ondersceede] and without labor,” with the false individuals who tout their subtle notions and clever thoughts but spread doctrine that hinders and alarms the enlightened while stubbornly defending their doctrine, paying little attention to virtue or practice, and demonstrating spiritual pride. 145 The third sign contrasts the charity of the enlightened with those who are particular, proud, lacking in humility or generosity, avoiding service to the poor, and insensitive to the promptings of divine love. 146 These traits are familiar from Ruusbroec’s other works as well as his contemporaries’ treatises; they also hearken back to Henry of Friemar’s signs of the natural instinct. But here they are explicitly provided in the service of discernment: “Consider [merket] and learn and avoid these things in yourselves and in all in whom you recognize them.” 147 There are similar descriptions elsewhere in DGB: later in the work (but still in the second of its three parts), Ruusbroec describes the problem of people who remain in a natural state of internal restfulness, emptying themselves of images and works but forgetting God and themselves. Such a state of natural rest means that “these people are often deceived. For sometimes the things which they desire happen to them by means of the fiend; and then they attribute it to their holiness, and it seems to them that they are worthy of it all.” 148 “This is a beginning of all spiritual error,” Ruusbroec explains, and urges his audience to “examine [merke] and prove” themselves on this count. 149 Another run-down of familiar FreeIbid., 426 (English) and 427 (Dutch): “Op dat dese menschen hem selven leeren kinnen ende oec van anderen menschen bekint werden.” The signs are “poenten” in Dutch but the familiar-sounding “signis” in Surius’s sixteenth-century Latin. 144 Ibid., 426–9. 145 Ibid., 428 (English) and 429 (Dutch): “dae hi de waerheit in bekint met ondersceede sonder aerbeit.” 146 Ibid., 428–31. 147 Ibid., 430 (English) and 431 (Dutch): “Dit merket ende leeret ende scuwet in u selven ende in alle menschen daer ghijt in bekint.” 148 Ibid., 544–6 (English) and 545–7 (Dutch): “ende dese werden dicwile bedroghen. Want hem ghescien bi wilen overmids den viant die dinghen die si begheren; ende dan draghen sijt haerre heilicheit ane, ende hem dunct dat si alles werdich sijn.” 149 Ibid., 542 (English) and 543 (Dutch): “dit es een begin van alre gheestelijcker dolinghen,” and 538 (English) and 539 (Dutch): “merke ende proeve.” 143

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Spirit traits follows: they pretend holiness for renown, lust after spiritual consolations, disobey church officials, and display outright antinomianism while seeking self-proclaimed freedom. Sometimes they are possessed by the fiend, which makes them more difficult to identify, but their deceit can be proved by citations from Scripture, the teachings of Christ, and faith. 150 Sometimes, however, they are even more dangerously deceived by the belief that they have emptied themselves and that all their interior drives come from the Holy Spirit, and this gives them a humble manner which makes it difficult to identify them. 151 Nevertheless, Ruusbroec insists, “the Spirit of God neither wills nor counsels nor performs in anyone things not in conformity with the teaching of Christ and of holy Christendom. These people can hardly be recognized except by one who would be enlightened and would have the discernment of spirits [onderscheet…der gheeste] and of divine truth.” 152 Onderscheet der gheeste never makes it out of the conditional, though, because Ruusbroec goes on to note that the teachings contained in DGB should demonstrate that these self-proclaimed “empty” people are actually precursors of Antichrist. 153 It is easy to link onderscheet to the spiritual (and Spirit-given) clarity mentioned earlier, but Ruusbroec does not make the connection. Just as Suso and Tauler did, however, Ruusbroec does link the Free Spirit crisis to the problem of visions and the need to distinguish divine from diabolic messages. “Discernment of spirits” proper – onderscheet der gheeste in Ruusbroec’s native dialect – is linked to enlightenment and divine truth but is not itself a topic for elaboration in any of Ruusbroec’s works. If it is related to “discernment of virtues,” it still falls squarely within the second level of spiritual life. But according to Ruusbroec, perfect union with the divine goes beyond reason, images, and onderscheet: “Before the face of Our Lord, reason and all consideration and distinction [onderscheede] fail; and the intellectual faculty is lifted up in modelessness, and its vision is without modes.” 154 The only truly infallible state seems to be the contemplation of God by a divine light and in a divine mode, after reason and intelligence have failed, which is surely part Ibid., 550–9. Ibid., 558–61. 152 Ibid., 560 (English) and 561 (Dutch): “Want de gheest gods en wilt noch en radet noch en werket, in ne gheenen mensce, onghelijcke dinghen der leeren Cristi ende der heiligher kerstenheit. Dese machmen qualijcke bekinnen, en ware een mensche die verlicht ware ende onderscheet hadde der gheeste ende godlijcker waerheit.” 153 Ibid., 562–3. 154 Ruusbroec, Vanden XII beghinen, 52 (English) and 53 (Dutch): “voer dat aenschijn ons heeren faliert redene end al ghemerc met onderscheede, ende die verstendighe cracht wert verheven [in onwisen] ende hare ghesichte wiseloes.” 150 151

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of the third level of spiritual life if not the afterlife. “In this exercise,” Ruusbroec writes, “one cannot err nor be deceived, and it begins here in grace and it shall endure forever in glory.” 155 Otherwise, Ruusbroec is mostly concerned with offering guidelines in order to distinguish misguided, tempted, or deceived spiritual travelers from their right-minded counterparts. The characteristics he outlines should help his readers understand their own spiritual choices or assess those of others. However, he is also conscious of how easily such guidelines can be twisted into persecution: in DGB, after he has listed the three signs, he warns against using them to judge another “unless you find him guilty with the works, for it would defile your heart, hindering it from recognizing divine truth.” 156 Ironically, Die geestelike brulocht itself was attacked fifty years later as leading towards the Free Spirit error of pantheism and spreading misleading doctrine about the possibility of indistinct union with God. 157

Alternatives to Distinction Suso, Tauler, and Ruusbroec were not exaggerating when they warned that people who were seeking God by the apparently orthodox means these authors had recommended could easily be accused of “Free Spirit” heresy. In fact, as their stories indicate, there was a very fine line between orthodox and heretical mystics in the fourteenth-century Rhineland, and the confusion was compounded by a habit of placing questionable works under the names of orthodox authors. One treatise, the Buch von Geistlicher Armuth (Book of Spiritual Poverty or Book of the Poor in Spirit) was attributed to Tauler from the late fourteenth century forward; under this name, it was cited by concerned Reformers and counter-Reformers in the sixteenth century, then featured in later debates on Lutheran Pietism and Catholic Quietism until H.S. Denifle, in his 1877 critical edition, concluded that Tauler could not have authored the Buch. 158 Although its true 155 Ruusbroec, Die geestelike brulocht, 468 (English) and 469 (Dutch): “In deser oefeninghen en machmen niet dolen noch bedroghen werden, ende si beghint hier inder gracien ende sal eewelijck dueren inder glorien.” 156 Ruusbroec, Die geestelike brulocht, 430 (English) and 431 (Dutch): “ghi en benevendet met den werken; want het soude u herte ontreinen te bekinnen die godlijcke waerheit.” 157 By Jean Gerson, whose judgment on Ruusbroec is addressed in Chapter Six. The definitive work on this issue is, of course, André Combes, Essai sur la critique de Ruysbroeck par Gerson, 4 vols. (Paris: J. Vrin, 1945–72). 158 Heinrich Seuse Denifle, ed., Das Buch von geistlicher Armuth (Munich: Literarisches Institut von Dr. Max Suttler, 1877), 51ff. Candidates for authorship have

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author remains anonymous, it is clear that the Buch was written around 1350 by someone with a clerical education (presumably male), familiar with the Friends of God movement and with the Free Spirit threat, and profoundly influenced by Tauler, Eckhart and pseudo-Eckhart, and Henry of Friemar’s De quattuor instinctibus. 159 The question of the Buch’s orthodoxy is best left to theologians, but its initial reflections on spiritual impulses are quite conservative. It teaches that the desire to perform external works can come from a variety of sources: the evil spirit inspires one to spend time with the wealthy or do unnecessary things, and nature inspires consideration of and attention to oneself, but God inspires one to help those who need it (especially holy people) and to act in moderation at the proper time. Divine inspiration will also urge people to the proper ordering of their souls, i.e., away from externals and toward God. 160 However, the Buch then moves to strident warnings against misdirected freedom (ungeordenter friheit), which its author traces to three causes: carnal weakness and indulgence, spiritual errors involving dropping either external or internal practices too quickly, and visions – either false ones sent from the evil spirit or true ones which reveal something hidden and inspire inappropriate pride. 161 “We should not believe in all spirits, for man is easily fooled,” the Buch-author warns, “and these men much resent your attempts to correct them.” 162 Of course, one must try to make a “distinction [underscheit] between well-directed [gœtlicher] freedom and misdirected freedom.” 163 Those who partake of the latter are prideful, angry, presumptuous, and full of vices, but those who are inspired by divine freedom are humble, patient, often silent, and closer to God. One particularly pernicious form of misdirected freedom is that which comes from abandoning all external good works and turning into oneself intellectually. This error gives rise to the Free Spirits included a radical Scotist, a fellow Dominican of Tauler’s, a member of the Fraticelli, a beghard or beguine in Tauler’s home city of Strassburg, or a Franciscan fan of Eckhart. Cf. the English translation of C.F. Kelley, The Book of the Poor in Spirit (New York: Harper & Brothers, [1954]), 41–8, for a summary of scholarship up through the 1950s. Lerner, Heresy, has advanced the beghard/beguine theory on 223–5, and McGinn, Harvest, 379, suggests a Franciscan author before leaving the issue open. 159 The first two claims are made in McGinn, Harvest, 37ff.; the third is infra. 160 Denifle, Das Buch, 13–16. 161 Ibid., 16–20 (with a citation of the ever-popular 2 Cor. 11:14). 162 Buch, Denifle ed., 20 (Kelley, 74): “Und do von ensol man nit allen geisten glouben, wan man wurt dicte betrogen. Und die menschen můgent sume erliden, daz man sie strasset ic.” The Buch is echoing 1 John 4:1. I have used Kelley’s translation in this text but have occasionally altered a few words (usually translations of underscheit). 163 Buch, Denifle, 16 (Kelley, 70): “underscheit under gœtlicher friheit und ungeordenter friheit.”

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(die frien geiste), and the Buch-author offers a detailed (and by now, familiar) portrait of Free-Spirit formation: For in this turning into himself there usually springs up a natural light in him, and this reveals the distinction [underscheit] of natural truth. This distinction sometimes produces a great pleasure, and this pleasure urges him on to know still more truth, so that he grows intellectually. But reason and the intellect are from nature. Hence, he remains in this natural light and he understands what he will through discernment [underscheit] to the point where he imagines he possesses all truth and distinctions [underscheit].…The pleasure he takes in forming distinctions is so satisfying to him that he gives no heed to virtue and good works. From this springs misdirected freedom, and he spurns all the laws of holy Christianity. 164

Over time, the evil spirit gets involved, deceiving these unfortunates with false lights and preventing them from repenting. Here, once again, are the characteristics of Free Spirits as observed in the works of Suso, Tauler, Ruusbroec, and even Henry of Friemar: the Free Spirits are slaves to their natural desires, unable to distinguish between nature and grace, deceived by the evil spirit as a result, and prone to misusing or overusing their intellects. They are not necessarily mistaken visionaries, but mistaken intellectuals. What is new here is the role of underscheit. While in Suso and Tauler the misguided were unable to make the appropriate distinctions, and in Ruusbroec they had to cycle between distinction and indistinction, here they are trapped in too many distinctions. However, as we shall see, the “Free Spirits” the Buch describes are in fact lacking in another type of underscheit, namely underscheit der geiste. Most of the Buch is devoted to describing the path to spiritual poverty: one must first attain natural knowledge by the use of one’s natural powers of reason. Natural knowledge, it turns out, consists of seeking distinction in created things (underscheit in geschaffenen dingen), whether spiritual or bodily. These distinctions function through images and forms, and they produce natural pleasure, which drives a person to learn more. 165 Properly utilized, the exercise of reason will lead one to the higher forms of knowledge which come from grace and God. However, reason must 164 Buch, Denifle, 19 (Kelley, 73–4): “und in dem innebliben so entspringet ein natúrlich lieht in ime, und daz zœuget ime underscheit natúrlicher warheit, und der underscheit gebirt ime grossen lust, und der lust iaget in in me [sic] warheit zů bekennende, daz er danne gar vernúnftig wurt. Uber die vernúnftikeit ist von naturen, un so er also stat in sinem natúrlichen liehte, und er mit underscheit begrisset waz er wil, und in duncket, er habe allen underscheit und alle warheit in ime…. und er het ein begnuegen uf dem underscheide, daz ime also wol ist mit dem underscheide, daz er aller tugent und gůter wercke nit enahtet. Und dar uz entspringet ein ungeordente friheit, daz er versmahet die gesetzde der heilgen cristenheit.” 165 Buch, Denifle, 26.

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ultimately be abandoned, and with it the ability to make distinctions, because they deal with created things and not the creator. Natural knowledge is as inferior to divine knowledge as the moon is to the sun. 166 The Buch-author warns that people who never move beyond natural knowledge tend to desire preeminence and honors and so fall into the sin of pride yet remain plagued by doubt and conjecture. 167 Although reason is very useful while a person has not achieved true spiritual poverty, once one is truly spiritually poor the soul must be poor in reason and even poor in grace: “then he must forsake all discernment through images [bildelichen underscheit] and transfer himself with One into One, without any distinction [underscheit].” 168 The Buch-author is not afraid to recommend something that sounds suspiciously like a union of indistinction with God, without Ruusbroec’s reservations. It therefore makes sense that underscheit, with its implication of multiplicity, is precisely that which God lacks. This is an extreme position in many ways, but it follows logically enough from the common association of underscheit with the powers of reason. Clearly, if reason is to be entirely surpassed, so is distinction. What, then, of underscheit der geiste, discernment of spirits? After natural knowledge and before divine knowledge, there is a middle stage of knowledge by grace, which still incorporates some elements of underscheit. “In man the knowledge by grace is also the distinction of virtue from vice,” the Buch-author explains. 169 One might expect this to point to underscheit der geiste, and this is indeed the case: the Buch opens a discussion of the four spirits which speak in man with the observation that “when man knows the distinction of spirits it is indeed a great grace.” 170 These four spirits are taken directly from Henry of Friemar’s De quattuor instinctibus: evil or diabolic, natural, angelic, and divine. Their actions are also similar to their counterparts in DQI, but the roles of the evil and natural spirits are considerably more complex. The evil spirit, for example, does not simply advise man to sin, but goes from encouraging immoderate and irregular virtue (disguised as a good spirit) to presenting answers to incomprehensible truths to telling the soul that it is the only one with a true path to God. Spiritual poverty, however, produces a profound sense of humility and detachment which defeats each of these diabolic machinaCf. Buch, Denifle, 140–1, for this image. Buch, Denifle, 27 and 155. 168 Buch, Denifle, 4 (Kelley, 54): “so sol er lassen allen bildelichen underscheit und sol sich in tragen mit ein in ein sunder allen underscheit.” 169 Buch, Denifle, 28–9 (Kelley, 86): “Ouch gnedelich bekantnisse ist in underscheit der tugent und untugent.” 170 Buch, Denifle, 34 (Kelley, 93): “Ouch ist daz von gnaden, daz der mensche bekennet underscheit der geiste.” 166 167

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tions. 171 The natural spirit is more ambiguous, since it speaks “in images and in forms by which man seeks the distinction of created things,” as one might expect from the Buch’s other references to natural knowledge. 172 The knowledge it imparts is not salvific, and the images it creates are not inherently good, but there is nothing intrinsically evil about them either, and over time these images can encourage understanding of God’s work. 173 The angelic spirit speaks to man primarily about the virtues which lead to God, advising which virtues to cultivate in what order and distinguishing them from vices (again, underscheit is the term used). Angelic speech “is also in images and forms, but its images are useful and good. They direct man along the path of truth, and without these images no one can practice true virtue.” 174 The Buch-author even supplies an extra section on distinguishing among evil, natural, and angelic images. Evil images, from the evil spirit, encourage sin and seek to destroy nature; neutral natural images lead one to preserve nature; but actively good angelic images direct man away from nature and toward God. They appear similar because they sprang from the same source: before Adam’s fall, natural perception was the same as that of the angels, while the evil spirit strives to counterfeit natural images so that it can destroy man’s natural powers. 175 A truly poor spirit encounters only angelic images, since the other two varieties cannot affect him, and if he can become perfectly free in all his actions, he will no longer need images because he has God alone. “God does not act or work in images, but in essence, and for this reason the spiritually poor man must increasingly be free from images,” the Buch-author explains. 176 Divine knowledge is also compared to natural knowledge: Natural truth consists in the distinction (underscheit) of manifold things that are neither good nor evil. Divine truth, however, is a pure distinction (underscheit) of eternal things which man realizes in himself without images. … those men who are touched by God within know all without natural images, for the truth reveals itself to them in a pure consciousness without representations. 177

Buch, Denifle, 34–6. Buch, Denifle, 36–7 (Kelley, 95–6): “in bilden und in formen, und do man sůchet er underscheit geschassener dinge.” 173 Buch, in Denifle, 37. 174 Buch, Denifle, 41 (Kelley, 100): “sin sprechen ist ouch in bilden und in formen. Uber die bilde sint nútze und gůt, und sie wisent den menschen uf den weg der warheit, und ane die bilde kan wenig ieman kein reht tugent gewúrden.” 175 Buch, Denifle, 100–4. 176 Buch, Denifle, 44 (Kelley, 104): “got wúrdet nit in bilde, mer in wesen. Und da von můs er von not aller bilde ledig sin.” 177 Buch, Denifle, 38 (Kelley, 97): “Und also stet natúrlich warheit in underscheide manifer dinge, die weder bœse noch gůt sint. Uber gœtlich warheit ist ein luter under171 172

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It is not entirely clear whether the “pure distinction” of the divine spirit is intended to be taken too literally, since this is the only passage in the Buch which applies the term underscheit to anything divine. However, it seems obvious that a person who is in communication with the divine spirit and has attained divine truth no longer requires underscheit der geiste. This person cannot be deceived by any false lights because he is removed from all falsehood, filled with the divine truth, beyond all forms and images. 178 “Had Lucifer genuinely known God he might never have fallen,” the Buchauthor provocatively suggests. 179 In any case, “a genuinely poor man has a pure light in himself by which he recognizes all truth.” 180 As some of his predecessors had done, the Buch-author finally offers an optimistic solution to the problem of diabolic deception. This hard-earned “pure light,” sometimes identified with the inflaming love of the Holy Spirit, will make it impossible for the spiritually poor man to be deceived by pseudo-lights or false love, and as long as he casts off all creaturely images and attachments, the devil is powerless against him. 181 The Buch-author has successfully created a unique three-stage model of underscheit: the first, underscheit of images as a power of vernunft or natural reason, is initially useful but must be surpassed and ultimately cast off; the second, underscheit der geiste, comes through grace and is likewise image-centered and useful but cannot exist simultaneously with the perfect simplicity of the poor spirit united with God; the third, underscheit ewiger dinge, is infallible, beyond images and beyond multiplicity. 182 Although the Buch’s model seems not to have impacted other late medieval treatments of the topic, it indicates some of the possibilities and dangers of employing the multivalent term underscheit in an attempt to distinguish between maligned Free Spirits and the elusive, truly free “friends of God” who seem to be around every mystical corner. Of course, the mystical piety of the fourteenth-century Rhineland did not necessarily come along with an interest in discernment. Rulman scheit ewiger dinge daz mensche in ime bekennet ane alle bilde…. in der warheit, die menschen die von gotte innerlichen berueret sint, die bekennent es alles ane natúrlich bilde, wan es offenbaret sich ane alle bilde in einem lutern bevinden.” 178 Cf. Buch, Denifle, 25–6 and 44. 179 Buch, Denifle, 25 (Kelley, 81): “Sette Lucifer got reht bekant, er enmœhte nit sin gevallen.” 180 Buch, Denifle, 10 (Kelley, 62): “Ein reht arm mensche ist ein luter lieht in ime selber, in dem es schŏwet und bekennet alle warheit.” Cf. Denifle, 30, on the same topic. 181 Buch, Denifle, 165–6. 182 The only patristic source for a threefold theory of discernment (as opposed to vision) is John Climacus, in the Scala paradisi (cf. Chapter One). At least two Latin translations of Climacus were circulating in the mid-fourteenth century, but overall the Buch-author seems to be drawing more on fourteenth-century than on patristic sources.

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Merswin (1302–82), a Strassburg banker who was moved by Tauler’s preaching to withdraw from the world, wrote on several occasions about “false free men” who claim to follow Christ but are actually servants of Lucifer and are given to a heady combination of doctrinal error and sexual perversity – but he says little about distinguishing between true and false spiritual teachings. 183 Perhaps the most detail is given in his Meisterbuch, which takes the form of a dialogue between a “master” and “God’s beloved friend from the Oberland, Rulman Merswin’s companion,” who enlightens the “master” about the true way of God. 184 Initially, the master is invited to preach a sermon, which he opens by warning of those who “come to clear understandings and rational distinctions [underscheide], but always by images and forms,” drawing on the advice of other “men without the Scriptures.” 185 The bulk of the sermon is taken up with listing characteristics of truly enlightened individuals, and the list itself is predictable: they are humble, truthful, disinterested in created things, willing what God wills, constantly sensing God’s presence, ready to fight vice with virtue, imitators of Christ, and so on. Such a one will also “will not be deceived by any false lights nor by any creaturely appearance, if he will kindly and lovingly let all things stand as they are and will take what is best from all

The “valschen frigen menschen” appear in Das Bannerbüchlein, ed. in A. Jundt, Histoire du panthéisme popular au moyen âge et au seizième siècle (Paris, 1875; reprinted Frankfurt am Main: Minerva, 1964), 211ff. Although the Bannerbüchlein has never been translated, several of Merswin’s other works are available in a less-than-ideal translation by Thomas Kepler, Mystical Writings of Rulman Merswin (Philadelphia: Westminster Press, 1960). McGinn, Harvest, 415–431, provides the most recent study of Merswin’s mystical thought and his connections to other communities of Gottesfreundes. 184 The critical edition by Charles Schmidt is Nicolaus von Basel: Bericht von der Bekehrung Taulers (Strassburg, 1875; reprinted Frankfurt am Main: Minerva, 1981); the phrase I cite is found on 1: “der liebe gottes frúnt in oeberlant Ruolmans Merswins geselle.” Elsewhere, he is identified simply as “der man, Ruolmans geselle.” The only available English translation, which is not entirely trustworthy, appears in Susannah Winkworth, The History and Life of the Reverend Doctor John Tauler with Twenty-Five of His Sermons (London: Allenson & Co., [1857]), 40–99. On Merswin himself, cf. Georg Steer, “Merswin, Rulman,” in Die deutsche Literatur des Mittelalters Verfasserlexikon 2nd ed. (Berlin: Walter de Gruyter, 1978–), 6.420–42 (esp. 435–7 on the Meisterbuch). A more recent critical edition of the Meisterbuch’s two sermons is Markus Baumann, “Das ‘Meisterbuch’ des Rulman Merswin: Textgeschichte und Teiledition (Ph.D. diss., Katholischen Universität Eichstätt, 1992), but it does not include the introductory passages cited here. 185 Meisterbuch 1, in Schmidt ed., 4: “menschen…kement zuo cloreme verstentnisse und zuo vernúnftigem underscheide, aber alles in bilden und in formen, und … ouch menschen one die geschrift.” 183

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things.” 186 Although parts of the Meisterbuch echo familiar themes from the other works in this chapter – underscheit is linked to reason and to images, scholastic training does not suffice for true holiness, and the spiritually perfect cannot be deceived – Merswin shows no interest in making links between underscheit and underscheit der geiste, and the bulk of the Meisterbuch addresses unrelated aspects of spiritual growth. Another self-proclaimed “friend of God,” the so-called “Frankfurter,” wrote his Theologia Deutsch somewhere between 1350 and 1430. 187 The Frankfurter had also been influenced by Tauler, and his prologue states that the Theologia is intended to “teach many lively distinctions [vnderscheit] of divine truth and especially how and by what means one might tell those who are truthful, righteous friends of God from the unrighteous, false free spirits, who have injured the holy Church.” 188 To nobody’s surprise, the “false free spirits” value learning for its own sake and become lost in the pleasure it produces. 189 Moreover, the evil spirit’s temptations can produce spiritual pride or undisciplined false freedom (vngeordente, falsche freiheit), leading the misguided to think Scripture and doctrine inessential and to trust only in themselves. 190 Poverty of spirit and spiritual humility, on the other hand, come from the knowledge of true faith and lead to humble behavior, disregard for the body, and adherence to laws and Ibid., 6: “er sol nút betrogen werden von keime valschen liehte noch von keime anschine der creaturen, wenne er sol alle ding guetliche und minnekliche uf in selber lossen ston und sol in allen dingen das beste nemen.” (The sermon is on John 1:47: “Ecce vere Israelita in quo dolus non est,” and the characteristics being listed belong to this vere Israelita.) 187 The critical edition is ‘Der Franckforter’ (‘Theologia Deutsch’), ed. Wolfgang von Hinten (München: Artemis Verlag, 1982); for different theories on dating the original work, cf. 2–3. Eight medieval manscripts exist, along with two different early printed versions published under the guidance of Martin Luther from manuscripts which are no longer extant. The most recent translation, which I have used as an aid in preparing my own, is made from Luther’s 1518 edition of the Theologia and is fairly close to the critical edition in many places (although the chapter numbers are off by two throughout most of the work); it is The Theologia Germanica of Martin Luther, trans. Bengt Hoffman (Mahwah, NJ: Paulist Press, 1980). The Frankfurter identifes himself as God’s friend – as well as a priest and warden in a German house of knights [herren] at Frankfurt – in the prologue (von Hinten, 67). 188 Theologia Deutsch, prologue, in von Hinten ed., 67: “leret manchen liplichen vnderscheit gotlicher warheit vnd besundern, wie wo methe man irkennen moge die warhafftigen, gerechten gotis frundt vnnd auch die vngerechten, falschen, freyen geiste, dy der heiligen kirchen gar schedlich synt.” The Frankfurter refers to his ongoing work as involving vnterscheit on several occasions, e.g. chp. 40, 130: “Das mag man mercken vnd vorstehen yn disßen vor geschriben worten vnde vnderscheit.” 189 Theologia Deutsch 42, von Hinten, 142–3. 190 Theologia Deutsch 25, von Hinten, 103–5. 186

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rules. 191 Nevertheless, “nature and selfhood recoil from this life and hold to the false, unhindered life.” 192 In fact, nature, self-centeredness, sin, and the false light are simply equated with the devil, the Frankfurter asserts; there is no difference (vnderscheit) among them. 193 The results are fairly predictable: “It must be said about the true light that it does not know deceit, has no will to deceive, and cannot itself be deceived. But the false light is deceived and constantly deceives others with it.… The true light is God or divine, while the false light is nature or natural.” 194 Thus, “wherever, whoever, whichever are those whom the true light has illuminated, they will never be deceived.” 195 The Frankfurter offers the usual list of characteristics to help the not-yet-illuminated distinguish between spiritual paths, but those spiritual paths never seem dangerously close to overlapping, and apart from the interesting suggestion that the life of a godly person cannot be spoken or written about “with genuine discernment [rechtem vnderscheit],” the Frankfurter identifies underscheit simply as the matter of his work. 196 After all, in a dualistic world where the devil, sin, false lights, and nature are all the same, there is not much need for a complex theory of discernment of spirits.

Comparisons and Conclusions It is, perhaps, remarkable that so many fourteenth-century authors did develop systems in which discernment of spirits was clearly linked to the need to distinguish between true and false spiritual teachings. To varying extents, our five main figures also tied the problem of Free Spirit heresy to the misapplication of reason, and its detection to the proper use of the intellect. They all created guidelines and lists of characteristics by which to Theologia Deutsch 26, von Hinten, 105–9. Ibid., von Hinten, 108: “Vnd dar vmmb gehet alle natur vnnd selbheit von dissem leben vnd heldet sich czu dem falschen, ledigen leben.” 193 Theologia Deutsch 43, von Hinten, 136–8. 194 Theologia Deutsch 38, von Hinten, 125–6: “Dem waren lichte gehoret czu vnd muß seyn, das eß nicht trigen wil vnd mag syne nicht wollen, das ymands betrogen werde, vnd eß mag nicht betrogen werde. Aber das falsch licht wirt vnd ust betrogen vnd betruget vorbas ander mit ym. … Das ware licht ist got ader gotlich, ßo ist das falsch licht natur ader naturlich.” 195 Ibid., von Hinten, 128: “Wann, wo vnd wilche die synt, die das ware licht erluchtet hat, die werden nymmer betrogen.” 196 Ibid., von Hinten, 136. The full quotation is instructive: “In der warheit, alles, das gotlicher libe zu gehoret yn eyme waren, votgotten menschen, das ist also gar eingeldig, recht vnd slechte, das eß mit rechtem vnderscheit nye gesprochen ader geschriben wart ader noch nye bekant wart den allein, das eß ist.” 191 192

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tell spiritual people from their deceived counterparts, but they also struggled with the idea that the ability to tell the two apart might itself come directly from God. Finally, and again to varying extents, they remained conscious of how difficult it was for even the best-intentioned and most knowledgeable individual to tell Free Spirits from orthodox teachers of speculative mysticism, and they worried about distinguishing between their own mystical teachings and those of their opponents. When Tauler warned that Free Spirits were more dangerous than even the devil, he was expressing a very real fear. Equally remarkable, in hindsight, are the many issues these men left unaddressed. One of them was the role of a religious superior, community, or order in making decisions about appropriate behavior. Perhaps some of these authors took that role for granted; although we cannot be certain about the Buch-author, all the other figures in this chapter belonged to a formally established religious group. This, of course, leads into the next question: who was the intended audience for these works? Henry of Friemar and (in one work) Suso wrote in Latin, presumably aiming at a learned and primarily male audience, but otherwise the works in this chapter were written in the vernacular, bringing new complexities and new vocabularies to a venerable set of issues. Writing in the vernacular also meant that the works were probably aimed at (and, in any case, were read by) not only traditional male religious communities and priests, but also religious women and/or laypeople. Although Olivi’s Latin Remedia was probably directed at a non-clerical audience, this move into the vernacular was a major innovation. Now, visionary men and women could conceivably read or listen to discernment advice without having to learn Latin or depend on the translation abilities of their spiritual advisors. The move into the vernacular placed writing about discernment and the process of discernment itself at least partly outside the grasp of the institutional Church. Discerning individuals might be pitted against scholastics and spiritually unawakened members of the ecclesiastical establishment as well as deluded visionaries and perverse antinomians (in theory if not in fact). Of course, this point must not be overstated. Whether discretio spirituum or underscheit der geister, the discernment of spirits was still a powerful way to demonstrate orthodoxy above all else. But its vernacular flowering in the Rhineland demonstrated its ability to operate as a discourse outside established church structures. It is no surprise, then, that the discernment of spirits became a key issue for the generation of prophetic figures just before and during the Great Western Schism.

Chapter Four

Prophecy, Gender, and the Politics of Schism Prophetic Implications of the Great Western Schism While the extended controversies over Joachim’s prophetic legacy and the fear of “Free Spirit” heresy sparked a new interest in discretio spirituum, high-profile prophetic efforts to reform the Avignon papacy and their implication in the resultant Great Western Schism (1378–1417) gave a new complexion to this evolving discourse. The Schism itself affected Latin Christendom at all levels and in virtually every possible way, most of them negative. Its effects included “spiritual anxiety and distress of conscience” as well as “administrative confusion and jurisdictional conflict.” 1 In 1401, Jean Gerson characterized it simply as an “accumulation of the greatest evils which we now experience and suffer from.” 2 However, the Schism’s effect on prophets and visionaries was more complicated. It certainly seemed to fulfill the biblical prediction of a “falling away” (discessio) before the advent of Antichrist. 3 Moreover, as Marjorie Reeves explained: The Great Schism brought into the sharpest possible focus all the various elements of the prophetic tradition…: the forces of Antichrist creating schism and persecution in the Church, the expectation of terrible tribulation and judgment, the prophetic summons of the Pope back to Rome to fulfil the full destiny of the renovatio ecclesie. Above all, it was the fact of the Great Schism itself which set the seal of truth on the prophets from Joachim and St. Francis to Jean de Roquetaillade. 4

1 The quotations come from Francis Oakley, The Western Church in the Later Middle Ages (Ithaca: Cornell University Press, 1979), 59. Probably the best overview of the Schism itself is A Companion To The Great Western Schism (1378–1417), eds. Joëlle Rollo-Koster and Thomas M. Izbicki (Leiden: Brill, 2009). 2 Jean Gerson, De distinctione verarum visionum a falsis, in Glorieux, Oeuvres complètes 3:44: “maximorum malorum cumulus quem in schismate patimur et experimur.” 3 In 2 Thess. 2:3. The Glossa ordinaria tradition interpreted this discessio as either the destruction of the Roman Empire or a schism in the Roman Church. Cf. the extensive treatment of Schism-related apocalyptic in Laura Ackerman Smoller, History, Prophecy, and the Stars: The Christian Astrology of Pierre d’Ailly, 1350–1420 (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1994), 85–101. 4 Marjorie Reeves, Influence, 422. Cf. also the discussion by Michel Mollat in his survey article, “Vie et sentiment religieux au début du Grand Schisme,” Genèse et

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With the Schism, several generations of prophetic visionaries were vindicated at a single stroke; no less a personage than Cardinal Pierre d’Ailly described the Schism as taking place according to “the books of Abbot Joachim and Hildegard.” 5 And if the Schism itself were not enough, its commencement in 1378 approximated the date given by several prophetic figures – most notably Arnald of Villanova – for the advent of Antichrist. 6 But the forecast for the End Times also featured false prophets, and the Schism only sharpened expectations of such an influx. Just as long-dead prophets could be vindicated by the events and timing of the Schism, they – along with more recently deceased visionaries – could also be proved irrefutably wrong. It is in this context that the present chapter focuses on the struggle over the prophetic legacies of Birgitta of Sweden (c. 1303–1373), Pedro of Aragon (c. 1305–1381), and Catherine of Siena (1347–1380). These three prominent prophetic advocates of the Avignon papacy’s return to Rome found that their legacies were complicated by the Schism. Today Pedro is known to only a handful of scholars, but St. Birgitta is a Patroness of Europe, and St. Catherine is a Doctor of the Church, testament to the enduring power of their revelations within the Christian tradition. Much is also made today of the fact that Birgitta and Catherine were women, a fact that was not missed by their contemporaries, but was less crucial to the discourse on discretio spirituum during their lifetimes than one might imagine. On the face of it, examples of female prophets in the Old Testament (Miriam), the New Testament (Anna the daughter of Phanuel), classical antiquity (the Sibyls), and more recent memory (Hildegard), not to mention lesser-known contemporaries, should have made their vocations no more remarkable than those of their male counterparts such as Pedro. The literature on discretio spirituum was only a little less egalitarian: for instance, all of Augustine’s prophetic examples in De genesi ad litteram were male, yet elsewhere he credited his mother with predictive dreams, and he identified the Sibyl as prophesying the coming of Christ. 7 David of Augsburg offered a rather uninviting view of the sorts of erotic visionary experiences in which women were regularly implicated, and Henry of Friemar warned his presumptively male audience against too much contact Débuts du Grand Schisme d’Occident (1362–1394) (Paris: Editions du CNRS, 1980), 295–303. 5 Pierre d’Ailly, Tractatus de materia, ed. F. Oakley in The Political Thought of Pierre d’Ailly (New Haven: Yale University Press, 1964), 315–6. Cf. Reeves, Influence, 422 n. 3. Henry of Langenstein also looked to Hildegard’s prophecies predicting the Schism. Both d’Ailly and Langenstein will be discussed more fully in Chapter Five. 6 Cf. Reeves, Influence, 323–4, 417–8. 7 Cf. Chapter One. The Sibyl reference is in De civitate dei 28.23 (PL 41, 579–81).

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with holy women, but neither of these two referred specifically to women as visionaries, and other authors, including Olivi and Suso, seemed to treat visions from holy men and holy women with equal reverence. 8 In more general terms, women were widely believed to be more susceptible to error and to falling into carnality, but for this reason they could also serve as examples of piety and humility, and their gender was symbolically associated with Christ’s humanity. 9 The importance accorded to gender would change over the decades of the Schism, but shortly before the Schism began Catherine and Birgitta were able to contribute to the discourse on discernment of spirits in their own right. And contribute they did. The bodies of writing left by these women and the accounts of their confessors – as well as the “control” case of the male visionary Pedro of Aragon – indicate that their authority shaped and was shaped by the surrounding discourse about the proper place of revelation within the institutional Church – in other words, the concept of discretio spirituum. Reference to “bodies of writing” is particularly apropos, since all three visionaries based their claims to discern spirits on bodily experience of God (albeit very different experiences), and the way their legacies were interpreted led for the first time to a clear division between the work of visionaries and that of “expert” discerners of spirits.

From Bride to Prophet It is a truth universally acknowledged that a visionary in possession of a program for papal reform must be well-connected. Birgitta Birgersdotter, related to the Swedish king by birth, used that connection to compensate for her unusual path into religious life. Although she had experienced visions of Christ and Mary as a child, she married a wealthy nobleman and bore eight children before dedicating herself to Christ after her husband’s death in 1344 and moving permanently to Rome in 1350. There she dedicated herself to a life of piety and political activism, which included a series of revelations that encouraged Pope Urban V and his successor Gregory XI to return to Rome. 10 From the outset of her visionary experiCf. Chapter Two. Of course, in David’s case, his readers (Franciscan novice masters) were also presumptively male. 9 For examples of charges of women being easily led and carnal, cf. Cum ex iniuncto in Chapter Two and De quattuor instinctibus in Chapter Three. For the connections between female gender and Christ’s humanity, the classic treatment is Carolyn Walker Bynum, Holy Feast, Holy Fast: The Religious Significance of Food to Medieval Women (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1987), 260–76. 10 The best source on Birgitta’s biography is Bridget Morris, St. Birgitta of Sweden 8

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ences, however, Birgitta was concerned about authorizing her visions through her own demonstrations of the discernment of spirits. In her Revelaciones, she receives advice about distinguishing good from evil spirits on many occasions from God, the Virgin Mary, and especially Christ, who is always described as speaking to his sponsa – that is, Birgitta. These schemes are relatively traditional in their emphasis on the aftereffects – or in scriptural terms, the “fruits” – of each spirit; some of them are also reminiscent of the visionary passages in Suso’s Horologium sapientiae and other works. To quote one passage at length: The Son speaks: How is my spirit to be understood, when there are two, evidently the good and the evil spirit? I will tell you: my Spirit is warm and performs two good things. First, it makes one desire nothing but God; second, it gives the utmost humility and contempt for the world. But the evil spirit is cold and warm: cold, because it makes bitter all that is God’s; also it is warm, because it inclines man toward the enjoyment of the flesh and the pride of the world and it instills affection for his own praise. 11

Christ further advises Birgitta as to how she should rebuff the evil spirit and praise the good one when they come calling. In another version, Mary urges Birgitta not to fear evil spirits, since the Holy Spirit produces “light and heat … the light of divine charity and the perfect illumination of holy faith,” while the devil can only manage misty shadows. 12 But the untraditional aspect of Birgitta’s teachings on discernment is their highly personalized context, going well beyond the visions of Suso’s “disciple.” From Birgitta’s first extended revelation forward, Christ emphasizes the personal (Rochester, NY: Boydell Press, 1999). An English translation of The Revelations of St. Birgitta of Sweden is in progress from Oxford University Press, but as of this writing only two of the four volumes are out; I have made my own translations. On Birgitta’s efforts to return the papacy to Rome, cf. Renate Blumenfeld-Kosinski, Poets, Saints, and Visionaries of the Great Schism, 1378–1417 (University Park, PA: Pennsylvania State University Press, 2006), 38–42. 11 Birgitta of Sweden, Revelaciones 4.110, ed. Hans Aili, Sancta Birgitta Reuelaciones Book IV, in Svenska Fornskriftsällskapet and Kungl series 2 7:4 (Göteborg: Graphic Systems, 1992), 310–1: “Filius loquitur: Quomodo intelligendus est spiritus meus, cum duo sint, spiritus scilicet bonus et malus? Ego dicam tibi: Spiritus meus est calidus et facit duo bona. Primo facit nichil desiderare nisi Deum, secundo dat summam humilitatem et mundi contemptum. Spiritus vero malus est frigidus et calidus: frigidus, quia omnia que Dei sunt facit amara; calidus ideo est, quia hominem ad carnis inclinat voluptatem et mundi superbiam et ad laudem propriam instigat affectum.” Similar distinctions are provided by an angel in Revelaciones 1.54 and by Mary in Revelaciones 3.20. 12 Birgitta of Sweden, Revelaciones 3.10, ed. Ann-Mari Jönsson, Sancta Birgitta Reuelaciones Book 3, in Svenska Fornskriftsällskapet and Kungl series 2 7:3 (Uppsala: Almqvist & Wiksell, 1998), 111: “duo veniunt, scilicet lux et calor …. ardor scilicet diuine caritatis et fidei sancte perfecta illuminacio.”

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bond between himself and Birgitta, explaining that she should not fear diabolic deception “since you desire nothing else but God and you are completely afire for him. This I alone can accomplish, and it is impossible for the devil to approach you … unless it is permitted by me, either on account of sins or some other hidden judgment known to me.” 13 Evidently, Birgitta did not have a problem with sins or hidden judgment, because her later revelations leave out even that small uncertainty. The evil spirit simply cannot counterfeit the good, Birgitta is informed: “The signs of the good spirit are sweetness of mind and glory, and the signs of the evil spirit are anxiety and restlessness of mind proceeding from desire and anger and other things.” 14 Moreover, the two spirits give opposite advice: for instance, the evil spirit tells Birgitta to remain in her native country surrounded by pride and her loving children, while the good spirit says to travel and live in poverty. 15 In a different vision, the Virgin Mary explains that the spirit of God can be identified because it ignores worldly honor, favors the spirit over the delights of the flesh, inspires patience and glorification of God, incites the mind to love and compassion, inspires all forms of chastity, supports the love of God throughout tribulation, and produces the desire “to be dissolved and to be with Christ.” 16 The evil spirit, on the other hand, eases worldly life, inspires a need for worldly honors, inspires hatred and impatience in the heart, induces audacity against God, excuses sins, leads to lightness of soul and impurity of flesh, and encourages the hope of living for a long while in shame. “Therefore,” Mary warns, “be solicitous of your thoughts, and you will not be deceived by that spirit.” 17 This optimistic outlook is not limited entirely to Birgitta: Christ informs her that first among the five gifts he has given all good priests is “conscious understanding of all irrational things, so that they can Birgitta of Sweden, Revelaciones 1.4, ed. Carl-Gustaf Undhagen, Sancta Birgitta Reuelaciones Book I, in Svenska Fornskriftsällskapet and Kungl series 2 7:1 (Uppsala: Almqvist & Wiksell, 1978), 251: “cum nichil aliud desideraueris nisi Deum et de eo tota inflammaris. Hoc ego solus possum facere, et impossibile est diabolo appropinquare tibi … nisi permittatur a me, vel propter peccata vel propter occultum iudicium michi cognitum.” (On the usefulness of temptations for testing sanctity, cf. Rev. 6.14, 79ff.) 14 Birgitta, Revelaciones 6.38, ed. Birger Bergh, Sancta Birgitta Reuelaciones Book VI, in Svenska Fornskriftsällskapet and Kungl series 2 7:6 (Arlöv: Berlings, 1991), 147: “Signa autem boni spiritus sunt dulcedo mentis et gloria, et signa mali spiritus sunt anxietas et inquietudo mentis procedens ex cupidatate vel ira etc.” The image of counterfeiting becomes literal in Mary’s advice in Revelaciones 4.23, when God and the Devil mint different coins – an image for discretio spirituum from Cassian (cf. Chapter One). 15 Cf. Revelaciones 4.4, in SBR, 4:71. 16 Birgitta, Revelaciones 4.23, in SBR, 4:128: “Septimo donat desiderium velle dissolui et esse cum Christo.” 17 Ibid.: “Ideo sollicita esto circa cogitaciones tuas, ne a spiritu isto decipiaris.” 13

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discern between good and evil, between true and false.” 18 But Birgitta is special; although she refers to herself as “an ignorant woman and an unworthy sinner,” 19 her status as bride of Christ allows her to have repeated conversations in which all the divine powers of her world reassure her about discretio spirituum. Mary even warns Birgitta, her daughter-in-law, against fearing diabolic illusion when she feels a movement in her heart because Mary herself felt the same sensations when she conceived Jesus! 20 In essence, Birgitta has crafted a doctrine of discernment of spirits grounded in her unique spousal relationship with Christ instead of the more traditional (and less personal) relationship with the Holy Spirit. Of course, evil can still deceive: Christ warns Birgitta that the devil never sleeps and that she should be cautious, since the devil “sends many falsities into deluded hearts and those willing to be pleased by the world, through which he has deceived many, just as false prophets [do].” 21 Satan can even mix truths with falsehoods, and God allows these lies “on account of the sins of the people and the clergy.” 22 However, “true prophets who desire nothing but God and want to speak only the word of God on God’s account, these cannot be deceived, because they love and speak words of truth.” 23 Christ’s logic seems somewhat circular here: true prophets cannot be deceived, but this is precisely why they are true prophets! Luckily, this is not a problem for Birgitta, who is advised not to worry about her dreams but to remain firm in her belief and love of God; there is an extremely strong implication that she is indeed a true prophet. 24 When the devil or a Birgitta, Revelaciones 1.59, in SBR, 1:436: “scilicet conscienciam intelligentem super omnia irracionabilia, ut discernerent inter bonum et malum, inter verum et falsum.” I believe that this refers to discernment rather than, say, jurisdiction over the sacrament of penance; the other four gifts (wisdom/understanding of spiritual things, chastity, temperance, and stability “in good morals, words, and deeds”) all evoke personal qualities rather than institutional prerogatives. 19 Birgitta, Revelaciones 7.29, ed. Birger Bergh, Sancta Birgitta Reuelaciones Book VII, in Svenska Fornskriftsällskapet and Kungl series 2 7:7 (Uppsala: Almqvist & Wiksell, 1967), 210: “ignara femina et indigna peccatrix.” 20 Birgitta, Revelaciones 6.88, in SBR, 6:247–8. (Mary refers to Birgitta as her daughter-in-law on 248.) 21 Birgitta, Revelaciones 4.38, in SBR, 6:150: “imittit cordi deluso et volenti placere mundo multas falsitates, per quas decipiuntur multi, sicut falsis prophetis.” 22 Ibid.: “propter peccata populorum et clericorum.” 23 Ibid.: “Illi vero prophete qui nichil desiderabant nisi Deum nec verba Dei loqui voluerunt nisi propter Deum, isti non decipiebantur set verba veritatis loquebantur et dilexerunt.” 24 Ibid., 151. Cf. Mary’s warnings against “aliquos malignos sortilegos et diuinatores et aliquas pessimas incantatrices diuersis respectibus inordinatis” in Revelaciones 7.28, SBR 7:206 – there is no suggestion that Birgitta could even be momentarily numbered among this company. Although neither Birgitta nor her divine conversation partners ever 18

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demon does in fact appear to Birgitta, a good angel usually steps in to warn her, 25 and in one such case Birgitta successfully summons Christ to debate with the demon over the real presence in the Eucharist. 26 As for demonic temptations toward desire or luxury, Mary advises Birgitta to tell the Enemy “you created nothing, therefore you can give nothing,” and this counsel is promptly put into action by the Virgin herself when a convenient demon happens by. 27 Those who are deceived by the devil in the Revelaciones are a relatively pathetic lot: a king who concludes that he is a messianic emperor after he is excommunicated, a group outside the Christian faith who follows a sorceress into battle, and so on. 28 Those who exhibit doubt about Birgitta’s status occasionally receive their own confirmatory visions and voices, as did her first editor who was paralyzed by God until he agreed to translate her revelations, the Dominican prior who envisioned a fire from heaven descending into Birgitta and heard a divine voice confirming her mission, or the Cistercian lay brother who saw Birgitta elevated from the ground spouting water along with another divine voice. 29 Most of the time, however, doubters are simply ignored: after angry Romans accuse Birgitta herself of being a sorceress, both Christ and Mary show up to assure Birgitta that she will not be harmed. 30 The “sorceress” accusation brings up an important point: although there is some discomfort reported in the Revelaciones about Birgitta’s gender, this discomfort is often linked to her prophetic abilities and is therefore resolved by her ability to discern spirits. Phitonissa, here transrefer to her as a prophet, there seems to be no doubt from passages such as these – as well as from her generally holy behavior and supernatural knowledge – that she is understood as such. Clare Sahlin has rightly observed that Birgitta’s understanding of prophecy owed a great deal to Old Testament examples, and she may have been reluctant to range herself with them, identifying just as strongly with the apostolic tradition in Birgitta of Sweden and the Voice of Prophecy, 35–6 and 74. 25 Birgitta, Revelaciones 4.61, in SBR, 4:189, and 6.3, in SBR, 6:60. 26 Birgitta, Revelaciones 4.63, in SBR, 4:195ff. Cf. also Revelaciones extravagantes 61, ed. L. Hollman (Uppsala: Almqvist & Wiksell, 1956) , 184–5, where one evil angel is immediately visible among a host of good angels. 27 Birgitta, Revelaciones 6.17, in SBR, 6:85: “‘Inimice, tu nichil creasti, ideo nichil dare potes, et eciam si possis, cicius casura sunt et finitura.’” 28 Birgitta, Revelaciones 6.68, in SBR, 6:228; and 6.82, in SBR, 6:243. 29 Birgitta, Rev. extravagantes 48, in Hollman ed., 164–5; Revelaciones 6.30, in SBR, 6:119–20; and Rev. extravagantes 55, in Hollman, 176–7. Cf. Claire Sahlin, “Gender and Prophetic Authority in Birgitta of Sweden’s Revelations,” in Jane Chance, ed. Gender and Text in the Later Middle Ages (Gainesville: University Press of Florida, 1996), 79– 80. Some people are convinced by Birgitta’s predictions and way of life even without recourse to vision; see, for instance, the “certain bishop” in Rev. extravagantes 102 who is often identified as Alfonso Pecha. 30 Birgitta, Rev. extravagantes 8–9, in Hollman, 120–2.

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lated as “sorceress,” is not simply a synonym for “witch”; rather, it describes a deceived and therefore false seer or prophet. 31 An even more striking juxtaposition of gender and discretio spirituum comes when St. Agnes is praising Birgitta’s patience and alludes to “that one who insultingly told you that he did not know by which spirit you spoke, and that it would be more useful for you to spin after the custom of women than to dispute about Scripture.” 32 On the other hand, Birgitta does not want her prophetic abilities defined in terms of gender; throughout the Revelaciones, Birgitta is compared to male prophets from the Old Testament (especially Moses) but never to female ones. 33 Although it is difficult to determine precisely which parts of the Revelaciones have been most heavily edited, and by whom, it is tempting to see the beginnings of the thematic linkage between female prophets and false prophets which would be so apparent to Gerson in another thirty years. Most of Birgitta’s rules for discretio spirituum are gender-free and so work to her advantage against the commonplaces of medieval misogyny, but this advantage would not persist into the next generation of prophets. On the whole, Birgitta’s Revelaciones paint a picture of a visionary who remains remarkably confident about her own inspiration while authorizing herself in terms of the widespread problem of discerning spirits. It is not clear from these passages that, as Rosalynn Voaden has argued, “the lady vanishes” in Birgitta’s visions; rather, the lady is vindicated again and again. 34 As Voaden explains it, Birgitta’s “construction within the discourse is as a disembodied voice, uttering the word of God. She is a Sahlin, “Gender and Prophetic Authority,” 83–4 and 91 n. 46, wants to equate phitonissa with “witch” immediately. Without getting too deeply into the editing process of the Revelaciones, I believe that this particular term is more significant; it often denotes some sort of demonic or diabolic predictive power. It certainly does so elsewhere in the Revelaciones (cf. supra), or, for example, in the episode of the “famosa phitonissa” who uses the “consilio demonis” to predict the birth (and choose the name) of Louis of Sicily according to John of Rupecissa (Robert Lerner and Christine Morerod-Fattebert, Johannes de Rupescissa: Liber secretorum eventuum (Fribourg: Éditions Universitaires Fribourg Suisse, 1994) esp. chapters 145–7 on pp. 215–6. 32 Birgitta, Revelaciones 4.124, in SBR, 4.332: “ille qui contumeliose tibi dixit se nescire, quo spiritu loquebaris, et esse tibi utilius mulierum more subtiliter filare quam de scripturis disputare.” Again, Sahlin reads this as evidence that Birgitta’s gender provoked opposition – which is surely true, but is not the extent of the matter. 33 Cf. Revelaciones 1.60, for example. It is also worth noting that Moses, along with Paul, was credited with having intellectual vision in Augustine’s original formulation of the concept (cf. Chapter One). 34 Cf. Rosalynn Voaden, God’s Words, Women’s Voices, 73–108. (In the preceding analysis, I have deliberately focused on most of the passages Voaden treated, as well as numerous others.) Caciola, Discerning Spirits, 278–280, follows a similar but less detailed line of argument. 31

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vanishing visionary, and therefore she is empowered.” 35 It is true that Birgitta often presents herself in apparently passive terms – repeatedly as a channel, and occasionally in metaphors ranging from a pipe being played by the Spirit to wood shaped by Christ the carpenter. 36 As Claire Sahlin points out, these images “emphasize God’s use of Birgitta as an instrument of revelation by stressing that she does not act on her own behalf and does not claim the messages that she promulgates as her own.” 37 Yet these images also serve to buttress Birgitta’s claim to exemplary humility; they do not conflict with the many revelations in which Birgitta is more proactively described as sponsa Christi and in which she confers with assorted celestial figures who constantly provide her with customized advice about distinguishing between good and evil spirits. 38 Indeed, the prophetess’ humility, meekness, patience, and obedience are repeatedly lauded by her partners in dialogue, often in the same passages where they offer this advice. It does not follow that Birgitta really “constructs herself to deflect attention from herself to her message.” 39 If anything, Birgitta must construct herself as highly and self-consciously virtuous in order to lend credence to her message. Since she depends so heavily on the results Ibid, 108. For Birgitta as canale, cf. below and Rev. 3.30, among other places; as pipe, cf. Rev. 4.100; as wood, cf. Rev. extravagantes 49. I stress “apparently” passive terms: Sahlin (Birgitta, 82–102) notes that the canale in particular was an image often used to describe Mary, and that Birgitta’s application of it to herself was part of a larger analogy in which she (like Mary) made the Word of God take on flesh. Comparing one’s role in salvation history to that of the Virgin Mary is not a strikingly passive declaration. 37 Cf. Sahlin, Birgitta, 78. 38 There is a strong gender component to Birgitta’s self-identification as sponsa Christi; apart from the obvious advantage of Birgitta’s being the correct gender to wed a male Christ, Mary explicitly defines Birgitta’s obligation to her as that of a daughter-inlaw taking care of her in-laws’ house at their command (Rev. 6.88). 39 Voaden, 105. I would also disagree with André Vauchez’s similar observation: “Ste Brigitte, dans ses Révélations et dans ses propos tels qu’ils nous sont rapportés par les témoins, ne manquait jamais une occasion de souligner que la fonction prophétique qu’elle exerçait était indépendante de ses mérites propres.” In “La sainteté mystique en occident au temps des papes d’Avignon et du Grand Schisme,” Genèse et débuts du Grand Schisme d’occident, 364. Claire Sahlin, Birgitta, 54, has a more nuanced view, but one in which gender is stressed above the details of discretio spirituum: “Paradoxically, this passivity and submissiveness, which exploits rather than contradicts traditional understandings of women’s subordinate status, empowered Birgitta to write and to speak forth … and also helped to establish her credibility as an authentic visionary in the eyes of her contemporaries. Without this presentation of Birgitta as commanded by God to serve as a medium of God’s words (and not her own), she would have been dismissed much more easily and immediately for audaciously criticizing the immorality of powerful leaders and transgressing restrictions normally placed on women’s speech.” 35 36

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(“fruits”) of a spirit in order to ascertain its nature, her own good conduct is the best proof of her status as both a prophet and a discerner of spirits. As is the case with Catherine of Siena and Raymond of Capua later in this chapter, there is considerable slippage between Birgitta’s own portrayal of herself and that provided by obviously third-person sources, especially after Birgitta’s death in 1370. Indeed, Voaden’s analysis begins with a famous passage from Birgitta’s Vita in which Birgitta flees repeatedly from the voice of God, fearing it to be an illusion, until the voice advises her to “go to Master Matthias, your confessor, who has experience in discerning the two types of spirits. Say to him on my behalf what I now say to you: you shall be my bridge and my channel, and you shall hear and see spiritual things, and my spirit will remain with you even to your death.” 40 However, recent research suggests that not only did two of Birgitta’s Swedish confessors prepare the manuscript of the Vita after her death, but her final confessor and editor, Alfonso Pecha, edited the Vita before submitting it to the papal court in Avignon. This portion of the Vita in particular shows Alfonso’s editorial work. 41 Whoever wrote it, this segment of the Vita proved to be enormously popular with Birgitta’s posthumous supporters, including those at the Council of Basel. 42 But a parallel passage in the Revelaciones extravagantes shows far less vacillation on Birgitta’s part; after only a single call from the voice, “terrified lest it might perhaps be an illusion of the enemy,” she heard again: ‘Be not afraid. For I am the creator of all, not the deceiver. Know that I do not speak for you alone but for the salvation of all Christians. Therefore hear what I say: you will indeed be my spouse and my channel; you will hear and see spiritual things and heavenly secrets, and my spirit will remain with you until death.’” 43 The voice then instructs her to tell Prior Peter Acta et processus canonizacionis Beate Birgitte, ed. Isak Collijn, in Svenska Fornskriftsällskapet and Kungl series 2 vol. 1 (Uppsala: Almqvist & Wiksell, 1924–31), 81: “Audi que loquor et vade ad magistrum Mathiam, confessorem tuum, qui expertus est duorum spirituum secundum discrecionem, dic ei ex parte mea, que dico tibi, quia tu eris sponsa mea et canale meum et audies et videbis spiritualia.” There is an excellent translation, with helpful notes, in Birgitta of Sweden: Life and Selected Revelations, ed. Marguerite Tjader Harris (Mahwah, NJ: Paulist Press, 1990), 78. 41 In fact, Sara Ekwall believes that the repetition of God’s voice and Birgitta’s suspicion (just before the passage I quoted above) is definitely Alfonso’s doing. Cf Ekwall, Vår älsta Birgittavita och dennas viktigaste varianter (Stockholm, Almqvist, 1965). The two versions of this vision are also discussed in Sahlin, Birgitta of Sweden, and Päivi Salmesvuori, “Establishing the Authority: Birgitta of Sweden and Her Calling Vision,” Journal of the European Society of Women in Theological Research 15 (2007): 156–7. 42 Cf. Voaden, God’s Words, 73 n. 1. 43 Birgitta, Rev.extravagantes 47, in Hollman, 162–3: “Conterrita illa, ne forte hostis esset illusio, audiuit iterum: “Noli timere. Ego enim sum omnium conditor, non deceptor. 40

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Olafson of Alvastra to write down what she will say; there is no mention of Matthias or his talent for discretio spirituum, and only the necessary amount of fear for any visionary familiar with the Vita Antonii. 44 In the Revelations, Birgitta – though always obedient to authority – seems to get all the discernment advice she needs from supernatural sources; it is only in the Life that she turns to a duly authorized confessor. While Peter, Matthias, Alfonso, and other spiritual advisors were charged with translating Birgitta’s revelations from Old Swedish to Latin and ultimately editing them to better emphasize their underlying message, there is a consensus among Birgittine scholars that most of her Revelaciones – which exist in multiple rescensions and overlapping collections – can nevertheless be read as Birgitta’s ideas rather than those of Matthias or Alfonso. 45 As it turns out, an examination of Alfonso’s own writings on Birgitta’s behalf leads one to suggest that her submission to a male authority figure for purposes of discretio spirituum may be at least as much his creation as hers. The most important text for Alfonso’s defense of Birgitta’s posthumous legacy is his Epistola solitarii ad reges, written around 1376 and distributed repeatedly during the Schism. 46 The solitarius of the title is Alfonso himself. A scion of Castilian nobility, he resigned a bitterly contested bishopric in Jaén to live an eremitic life near Rome. After Birgitta moved to Rome, he rapidly became her confessor, spiritual advisor, legate, and final editor. The Epistola solitarii was a prefatory document attached to a selection of Birgitta’s revelations which were then

Scias, quia non loquor propter te solam sed propter salutem omnium Christianorum. Audi igitur, que loquor. Tu quippe eris sponsa mea et canale meum, audies et videbis spiritualia et secreta celestia, et spiritus meus remanebit tecum vsque ad mortem.’” 44 Birgitta, Rev. extravagantes 48, in Hollman, 163. 45 Since this is a major scholarly debate, I will offer only a few English-language citations: Hans Aili, “St. Birgitta and the Text of the Revelationes: A Survey of Some Influences Traceable to Translators and Editors,” in The Editing of Theological and Philosophical Texts from the Middle Ages, ed. M. Asztalos (Stockholm, 1986), 75–91; and the more recent R. Ellis, “The Divine Message and its Human Agents: St. Birgitta and her Editors,” in Studies in St. Birgitta and the Brigittine Order, ed. James Hogg (Salzburg, 1993), 1:209–33; and B. Morris, “Labyrinths of the Urtext,” in Den heliga Birgitta – budskapet och förebilden, eds. Alf Härdelin and Meredith Lindgren (Stockholm: KVHAAH Konferenser 28, 1993), 23–34. 46 Edited in Arne Jönsson, Alfonso of Jaén: His Life and Words with Critical Editions of the Epistola Solitarii, the Informaciones and the Epistola Serui Christi (Lund: Lund University Press, 1989). Jönsson dates the Epistola solitarii to 1375–6, but its distribution in the Urbanist context of Birgitta’s collected political revelations (the Liber celestis; cf. infra) took place after the onset of the Schism.

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sent to friendly princes in an effort to solicit support for her canonization. 47 Thanks to the popularity of Birgitta’s revelations, it survives in many manuscripts and seems to have been read by late medieval authors as diverse as the anonymous English compiler of The Chastising of God’s Children and his contemporary Gerson. 48 In the Epistola solitarii, Alfonso begins by listing Birgitta’s positive qualities, especially her noble birth: her royal relatives are emphasized, and she is identified as “mistress of the spirit … glory of all women.” 49 Obviously, Birgitta’s royal connections would be an advantage for Alfonso’s aristocratic audience; Birgitta herself, while always prepared to use or renounce her resources and connections, does not seem to have viewed her birth as a prophetic advantage. Moving on to visions, Alfonso warns that it is difficult and dangerous to tell divine visions from diabolical illusions; hence, he proposes to offer his royal audience some guidelines on the subject drawn from holy Scripture and the teachings of the fathers and doctors of the Church (but apparently not from Birgitta’s Revelaciones). First, Alfonso reminds his audience of the many scriptural examples in which God chose to speak through simple folk, idiots, fishermen, and even women “to show his omnipotence … and confound the wise.” 50 Alfonso then surveys patristic and scholastic authorities on discernment, noting the need to examine the qualitas of the visionary and his or her lifestyle as well as whether the vision is corporeal, spiritual, or intellectual. 51 Subsequent chapters prove that Birgitta meets all these qualifications and even argue that some of her visions were intellectual and therefore infallible. 52 Cf. Jönsson, 106. The other major study of the Epistola solitarii is Eric Colledge, “Epistola solitarii ad reges: Alphonse of Pecha as Organizer of Birgittine and Urbanist Propaganda,” Mediaeval Studies 18 (1956): 19–49. 48 Colledge, “Epistola solitarii,” was the first to point this out. See also Colledge’s introduction to The Chastising of God’s Children and the Treatise of Perfection of the Sons of God, ed. Joyce Bazire and E. Colledge (Oxford: Basil Blackwell, 1957), esp. 45– 57. Other surviving treatises in favor of Birgitta’s canonization from about this time are enumerated in Sahlin, Birgitta of Sweden, 169–220. However, none of these had the same impact or exclusive focus on discretio spirituum that the Epistola solitarii had. 49 Alfonso, Epistola solitarii 1.3, in Jönsson, 117: “illustris generis et spiritus domina … decus omnium feminarum.” 50 Ibid., 1.22, in Jönsson, 120: “ad ostendendum omnipotenciam … ut confundat sapientes.” 51 In Epistola solitarii 1–5 (117–51 in the Jönsson edition). Cf. also Jönsson, 29–30, and supra on Augustine’s tripartite categorization of visions. 52 Alfonso, Epistola solitarii 4, in Jönsson, 142–151. Of course, since Birgitta’s revelations always involved images, they were technically spiritual/imaginary visions according to Augustine, but Alfonso tries to elide this distinction. Contrast Ambrose of Milan’s explanation for telling Birgitta a parable in the Revelaciones: “cor tuum non potest capere intelligenciam spiritualium sine similitudine aliqua corporali” (Rev. 3.6, in 47

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In an apparent change of pace, Alfonso then identifies seven signs of inspiration by the Holy Spirit, derived from his authorities: humility and obedience in the visionary, sweetness of the visionary experience, an influx of supernatural intelligible light, truth of the prophecy and good morals of the prophet, good results (“fruits”) of the prophecy, a laudable end for the prophet, and miracles after his or her death. 53 If anyone conforms to all seven, Alfonso concludes, “such a person is not deluded by the devil, nor are his visions illusory and worthless, but they are entirely divine and should be humbly received from the hand of God and believed and in every way obeyed and carried out.” 54 Birgitta’s behavior in the Life conforms neatly to this model, as Alfonso is happy to point out. Indeed, Alfonso’s seven signs require such a Life to have been written, since it appears that discretio spirituum cannot be entirely accomplished until the visionary dies! In contrast to the Revelaciones, the Epistola solitarii places great emphasis on seeking outside authorities for discernment: scriptural verses, church authorities, and one’s own spiritual advisors. The theme of seeking advice from an outside authority is also present in Alfonso’s deposition recorded on September 16, 1379, in support of Birgitta’s canonization under the Schism-era Roman Pope Urban VI. In the middle of a panegyric about Birgitta’s obedience to the pope and to her earlier confessors, Alfonso states that “the divine visions, which she had during her prayers by means of inspiration, she immediately laid bare and spoke to her aforementioned two spiritual fathers, fearing that they [came] from an angel of Satan under the appearance of an angel of light, and she subjected herself in all things to their judgment and discretion, and she obeyed whatever they decided about this.” 55 Alfonso also recounts other authorities’ acceptance of Birgitta as “prophetissa Dei” and compares her unfearing prophetic announcements to a range of biblical prophets, echo-

SBR 3:102) and similar passages in Rev. 2.18 and 4.58. Note also that Birgitta’s visions are identified as “intellectual” in the Vita processus which Alfonso edited, in Collijn ed. of Acta et processus, 86. 53 Alfonso, Epistola solitarii 7, in Jönsson, 154–66. These do not seem to owe anything to the signs related by the Virgin Mary in Birgitta’s Revelaciones (supra). 54 Epistola solitarii 7.6, in Jönsson, 167: “talis persona non illuditur a dyabolo, nec visiones eius sunt illusorie et despiciende, immo totaliter sunt diuine et humiliter tamquam de manu Dei recipiende et credende ac omnimode obediende et exequende.” 55 Deposition of Alfonso in Acta et Processus, ed. Collijn, 370: “Visiones eciam diuinas, quas habebat in oracionibus suis diuinitus, statim predictis suis spiritualibus patribus duobus detegebat et dicebat, timens illudi ab angelo sathane sub specie angeli lucis [2 Cor. 11:14], et omnes illas subiciebat eorum iudicio et discrecioni et obediebat quicquid illi determinabant in hoc.”

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ing his historical defense of Birgitta’s prophecy in the Epistola solitarii. 56 For his own part, Alfonso testifies that “to see and hear divine visions intellectually and spiritually is considered a miracle, because all of these are from God and not from the devil’s craft.” 57 He adds that, since many saints have had such visions, they are not contra naturam but supernaturam as long as they are accompanied by a virtuous life and holy death – perhaps thinking about the signs he drew up in the Epistola solitarii. 58 Indeed, Alfonso concludes, a revelation is defined as “divine and supernatural and for the illumination of the Church and the confusion of heretics.” 59 In 1379, at the onset of the Schism, Birgitta’s revelations would have illuminated the Urbanist Church, but not its Clementine opposition. Finally, in order to defend Birgitta’s revelations against those who doubted them, Alfonso “said that … he made and composed a prologue fully proving through divine Scripture that the first book of the Revelaciones, and even more the eighth, were revealed to this same lady Birgitta by divine inspiration … and about how to distinguish diabolic illusions under the appearance of angels of light from divine visions provided by the Holy Spirit.” 60 In other words, the Epistola solitarii itself becomes another form of outside authority to which Birgitta’s proponents could appeal for legitimation of her visions. Birgitta was canonized by the Roman Pope Boniface IX in 1391, but even then her sainthood remained in doubt, and her canonization was questioned but ultimately reaffirmed at the Council of Constance in 1415

Ibid. On Birgitta’s confirmation by assorted authorities, cf. 372–4; on the comparison to Jonah, 373; on her prophecy as being generally after the style of the Old Testament, 378. 57 Ibid., 379: “Item dixit ipse testis, quod videre et audire visiones diuinas intellectualiter et spiritualiter reputatur miraculum, quia hec omnia sunt a Deo et non ex arte diaboli….” This seems to be another blurring of Augustine’s line between infallible intellectual and fallible spiritual vision; cf. supra and in Chapters Two and Three for other examples. 58 Alfonso, deposition, ibid., and cf. supra. 59 Ibid., 382: “quia reuelacio diuina fuit et supra naturam et ad illustracionem ecclesie et confusionem hereticorum.” 60 Ibid., 375: “Sed quia multi non jmerito dubitabant, quomodo et qualiter predicta domina Brigida poterat habere et habebat frequentissime in oracionibus suis tantam habundanciam reuelacionum et diuinarum visionum, que continentur in libris suis, ideo ipse testis dixit … factus et compositus fuit prologus hoc plene declarans per diuinam scripturam super primo libro celesti et clarius super viij eidem domine Brigide diuinitus reuelato … et de modo discernendi illusiones diabolicas sub specie angeli lucis a visionibus diuinis ministratis a spiritu sancto.” (This is the Epistola solitarii, which formed a prologue to Revelaciones 8, the Liber celestis imperatoris ad reges.) 56

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and at the Council of Basel in 1436. 61 Politically speaking, most of this doubt had to do with Birgitta’s strong posthumous association with the Roman papal line during the Schism, but the theological explanations had to do with concern over the divine inspiration of Birgitta’s visions. 62 During the crisis of the Schism, when two opposing religious establishments ruled against one another, Birgitta’s personalized model for discernment of spirits was deemed unhelpful, and, instead, Alfonso’s appeal to expert authority exerted a lasting influence. Of course, this model essentially took the ability to discern spirits away from the visionary altogether. Here, in Voaden’s words, the lady does indeed vanish – but not necessarily because she is a lady. Alfonso was keenly aware that hostility towards Birgitta had been cast in gendered terms even during her lifetime, noting that “some religious men, more secular than spiritual” had insisted that it was “nearly impossible that God might speak through divine revelations to an ignorant little woman [muliercula].” 63 For Alfonso, however, his visionary’s gender is merely a hurdle to surmount with arguments from biblical precedent. He ignores Birgitta’s self-proclaimed status as bride of Christ in favor of promoting her as a prophetic, barely gendered instrument of God. In Alfonso’s writings, Birgitta is favored with infallible intellectual visions and authorized by a saintly life, miraculous death, holy Scripture itself, and a host of past and present theologians – but not, alas, by personal testimony from Christ and the Virgin Mary, as she would probably have preferred. 64

Cf. Bridget Morris, St. Birgitta of Sweden (Woodbridge: Boydell Press, 1999), 143– 69, and on the first canonization effort, Tore Nyberg, “The Canonization Process of St. Birgitta of Sweden,” in Procès de Canonisation au Moyen Âge: Aspects Juridiques et Religieux, ed. G. Klaniczay (Rome: École Française de Rome, 2004), 67–85. 62 The Constance debate over Birgitta’s legacy is discussed in Chapter Six of this work, but it probably suffices to say that the Constance debate produced Gerson’s De probatione spirituum and the Basel debate produced Denys the Carthusian’s De discretione et examinatione spirituum. 63 Alfonso, deposition, in Acta et Processus, ed. Collijn, 390: “aliqui religiosi pocius seculares quam spirituales … faciebant derisionem et detraccionem de hoc reputantes quasi impossibile, quod Deus loqueretur per reuelaciones diuinitus cum vna ignara muliercula.” In keeping with Alfonso’s strategy of emphasizing Birgitta’s prophetic talents and blameless life, he testifies that she knew these men had been insulting her behind her back when she smelled sulfur after being presented to them. 64 Although he does not cite it specifically in the deposition or in the Epistola solitarii, Alfonso clearly knew that the canon law tradition descending from Cum ex iniuncto required that the prophet be foretold in Scripture (a difficult point for Birgitta, though not impossible) or that the prophecy be accompanied by miracles as a proof of divine inspiration. (Cf. Chapter Two.) 61

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From Infante to Informatio Even more than Birgitta of Sweden, Infante Pedro of Aragon began his visionary career with built-in advantages: he was the fourth son of King James II of Aragon and Blanche of Anjou, and had spent his first fortyplus years as a key diplomatic and military advisor to his brother Alfonso IV “the Wise” (1327–36), and then to his nephew Pedro IV “the Ceremonious” (1336–87). He also had three sons and a daughter with his wife Jeanne of Foix and wrote various poetic works and a tractate entitled De vita, moribus, et regimine principum addressed to his royal namesake. 65 When Jeanne died in 1358, Pedro prayed for guidance and experienced a vision of his late maternal uncle, the Franciscan bishop and saint Louis of Toulouse, who advised him to serve God by joining the Friars Minor. 66 Somewhat against the wishes of his royal nephew, he did so that same year, dividing his considerable possessions among his children and formally entering the Franciscan house at Barcelona, although he continued to travel and act on the king’s behalf. Pedro’s subsequent career as a visionary reformer took off in 1365, when God commanded him to warn the Pope that if he did not return to Rome in order to heal the evils of the Church, he would suffer deadly consequences. Pedro promptly traveled to Avignon, where he was cordially received by Pope Urban V. After having Pedro’s rather straightforward visions examined by a panel of theologians and finding nothing controversial, the pope assured Pedro that he planned to return the Apostolic See to Rome and invited him to accompany him to the Eternal City in 1367. 67 When Urban returned to Avignon and died several months later, Pedro’s status as a prophet rose even further, and Urban’s papal successor, Gregory XI, granted him numerous privileges Further details of the reign of Pedro IV of Aragón can be found in Jocelyn Hillgarth, The Spanish Kingdoms, 1210–1516 (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1976), 1:347ff. The following biographical information on the Infante comes from Pou y Martí, Visionarios, 308–96. A more concise sketch with recent bibliography can be found in Peter Segl, “Peter von Aragón,” Lexikon des Mittelalters 6. 1927–8, or in Aurell, “Eschatologie,” 203–4. Pedro’s De regimine has been edited by Alexandra Beauchamp in “De l’action à l’écriture: le De regimine principum de l’enfant Pierre d’Aragon (v. 1357–1358),” Anuario de Estudios Medievales 35 (2005): 233–70. 66 This document is reproduced in Pou y Martí, Visionarios, 349–50. Cf. Jacques Paul, “Saint Louis d’Anjou, franciscain et évêque de Toulouse (1274–1297),” in Cahiers de Fanjeaux 7 (1972): 59–90. Of course, Pedro had many other family members with Franciscan leanings – Spiritual Franciscan connections aside, both his father and elder brother had been buried in Franciscan habits. 67 Unfortunately, the records of this examination have not survived. The most recent treatment of Pedro’s visionary career appears in Blumenfeld-Kosinski, Poets, Saints, and Visionaries, 37–8 and 55–9. 65

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and honors. 68 The Infante continued to play an active role in Iberian politics as well, offering not only military advice (indeed, God commanded him to do so in 1374), but also a 1377 commentary on the “cedars of Lebanon” prophecy which predicted the Castilian succession. 69 When Pedro showed interest in reforming his own order, he was named Vicar General of the Aragonese province of Friars Minor shortly before Gregory’s death in 1378. As one might expect from a prophetic advocate of the papal return to Rome, Pedro supported Urban VI from the outset of the Schism, writing in his defense to the kings of France, Castile, and Aragon. Unfortunately for Pedro, his friends and family were inclined in the opposite direction. France immediately declared for Clement VII; Castile followed suit in 1381, and while Aragon remained technically neutral until King Pedro IV’s death in 1387, his semi-estranged heir Juan of Gerona was known to be a strong Clementine partisan, and the Aragonese universities submitted rotulae to Clement rather than to Urban. 70 The Franciscan Order in Aragon also found it difficult to deal with the Infante, confirming his appointment as Vicar General but balancing it with the appointment of the Clementine Tomás de Alsina as Minister General. Pedro did not improve his position when he continued to clash with Alsina and other Franciscans over his plans for reform and their plans for papal neutrality; moreover, rumors circulated that Pope Urban planned to make Pedro a cardinal, although the appointment never came to pass. In 1379, Pedro publicized a new set of visions, which emphasized God’s support for the Urbanist cause and were directed to a wide range of luminaries including kings, dukes, and cardinals. But his readers were not convinced: while Alfonso Pecha, Birgitta’s confessor and a dedicated supporter of Pope Urban, described Pedro’s visions as “special and express revelations from Christ,” 71 supporters of In a bull of 28 March 1372 (cf. Pou y Martí, Visionarios, 352), Gregory allowed Pedro to live (with an entourage!) at any Franciscan house he chose or at the papal court and gave him entrance rights to any nunneries if he wished to preach there. Gregory also helped to award the disputed crown of Cyprus to Pedro’s grandson. 69 Cf. Robert Lerner, The Powers of Prophecy: The Cedar of Lebanon Vision from the Mongol Onslaught to the Dawn of the Enlightenment (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1983), 141–52 and 220–1. The commentary itself appears in Pou y Martí, 370–2. 70 Cf. R.N. Swanson, Universities, Academics and the Great Schism (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1979), 30ff. and Andrés Ivars, “La indiferencia de Pedro IV de Aragón en el gran Cisma de Occidente,” Archivo ibero-americano 29 (1928), 21–97 and 161–86. Prince Juan of Gerona was not on good terms with his father from 1378 on, and the Infante Pedro was clearly identified with King Pedro’s party rather than Prince Juan’s; these tensions may account for the equivocation of the Informatio. Cf. Hillgarth, Spanish Kingdoms, 249–55. 71 In Alfonso’s Informaciones 70, edited in Arne Jönsson, Alfonso of Jaén, 192: “fra68

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Pope Clement were forced to view them otherwise. It was only at this difficult point in his career that Pedro began to emphasize the heretofore reliably divine nature of his visions. In a 1379 letter to Cardinal Bertrand Atgerius, a fellow Franciscan who had tried to persuade Pedro over to the side of Pope Clement, Pedro claims not only prophetic foreknowledge of the Schism but also success in spiritual combat against the devil, who had tried to prevent him from disseminating his latest visions but was defeated when “the spirit of God, teacher of teachers and instructor of truth, prevailed in me.” 72 He then offers to submit his latest revelations for examination to the Roman Emperor and the French King (conveniently among their intended recipients) “so that they do not think I lie.” 73 However, the Infante continues not with further submission to authority but with a challenge for the cardinal: If, according to this [examination], the said revelations are false and derive from the devil’s illusion, then let me be put into the fire and burnt there as a liar. [But] if the said revelations are true and divine and revealed by our lord Jesus Christ and the Holy Spirit, then let you cardinals who have elected two popes be likewise damned as liars, as my lord Jesus has called you in my revelations.” 74

Although this visionary self-presentation does suggest a certain defensiveness, it does not seem to be particularly anxious about the possibility of diabolic deception. Even more so than Birgitta, Pedro seems confident that his visions are true and truly divine. In fact, he concludes his letter with the tart observation that Atgerius and all his schismatic brethren would be called to account at the Last Judgment for introducing error into the world. As it turned out, a verdict on Pedro’s visions did not have to wait for the Last Judgment. His nephew, King Pedro, had requested copies of the Infante’s new visions, then – possibly at the behest of his son – arranged for the Infante to submit the visions for examination to a panel of eminent theologians and dignitaries. The formal submission of the Infante’s Revelaciones and supporting material took place on July 3, 1380. Within a ter Petrus de Aragonia… habuerat super hoc speciales et expressas reuelaciones a Christo.” 72 Pedro of Aragon, Letter to Bertrand Atgerius, in Franz Bliemetzrieder, “Die zwei Minoritem Prinz Petrus von Aragon und Kardinal Bertrand Atgerius zu Beginn des abendländischen Schismas,” AFH 2 (1909): 446: “Prevaluit tamen in me Spiritus Dei, qui est doctor doctorum et instructor lucide veritatis.” 73 Ibid.: “ut non putetis me falsidicum.” 74 Ibid.: “Et si revelaciones predicte sunt false propter hanc [sic] seu ex illusione dyabolica procedentes, quod ego tanquam falsidicus ponar in igne et ibi comburar. Si vera sunt et divine et revelata a domino nostro Iesu Christo et a Spiritu sancto prolata, quod vos cardinales, qui duos summos pontifices elegistis, dampnemini tamquam mendaces, quia tales vos dicit esse dominus meus Iesus in revelacionibus supra dictis.”

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month, written testimony had been submitted to the royal secretary from the Dominicans James Mateu and Antony Folquet, the Infante’s Franciscan ally Bernard Broll, the Infante’s Franciscan rival Tomás de Alsina, the Franciscan bishop Francisco Rafart (who happened to be Juan of Gerona’s confessor), the Franciscan theologian Stefan Fort, and the Carmelite theologian Pedro de Ribas. 75 The results were not terribly surprising from a political standpoint: Broll and the two Dominicans (all supporters of Pope Urban) believed that Pedro’s visions came from God; Fort, Alsina and Ribas (all supporters of Pope Clement) suggested – as politely as possible, given the circumstances – that the Infante might have been deceived by the devil or evil spirits. Rafart, in the only deviation from party lines, stated that he did not wish to offer an opinion. 76 Nobody questioned the reliability of visions or prophecies in general, perhaps because King Pedro had a long-standing fondness for prophecies predicting the success of the Aragonese royal line. 77 The outcome of the Informatio was also politically predictable: King Pedro may have unofficially begged his beloved uncle to act discreetly, but he placed no official restrictions on his writing or travel. Indeed, the Infante received a royal safe-conduct to join Pope Urban in Rome the following year, but became ill en route and died in Pisa. 78 Despite its rather anticlimactic results, the Informatio was collected along with copies of Pedro’s works and survives in a single Vatican manuscript. It is a unique document in part because few such Informationes survive (we do not have the records of any earlier deliberations on the Infante’s visions) and in part because of the unusual lay sponsorship of the judgment and the consequent delicacy of those contributors who felt that the Infante’s visions were not of divine origin. Clearly, these individuals were caught between King Pedro’s support for his uncle and Prince Juan’s support for Pope Clement, because they evince a level of diplomacy not often encountered in such determinations. In one case, that of Stefan Fort, we have judgments both inside and outside the Informatio context to 75 Ribas was not present at the submission of material for the Informatio but was included in the panel at Juan of Gerona’s insistence, presumably due to his strongly Clementine sentiments. Cf. Pou y Martí, Visionarios, 375–6. 76 According to Pou y Martí, 375 n. 8–9, Rafart was replaced by Alsina as the prince’s confessor not long after the former abstained from judgment in the Informatio. 77 Cf. Martín Aurell, “Eschatologie, spiritualité et politique dans la confédération catalano-Aragonaise (1282–1412),” in Fin du monde et signes du temps: visionnaires et prophètes en France méridionale, fin XIIIe-début XVe siècle, Cahiers de Fanjeaux 27 (1992), 193–4, and H. Lee et al., Western Mediterranean Prophecy, 118–23. 78 Pou y Martí, Visionarios, 364–6. Infante Pedro was buried in the Franciscan convent in Valencia, where a local cult developed around his body.

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compare. In the Informatio, Fort simply advised the Infante to consider whether his revelations could possibly be from a diabolic or evil source and noted that considerable doubt existed among the panel members. 79 Later, however, he produced a pro-Clementine treatise in which he asserted quite emphatically that Pedro’s 1365 visions had been of divine origin but that the current ones were clearly products of diabolic deception. Fort provided additional examples of people whom the devil had deceived, then moved into a vigorous defense of the Clementine papacy. 80 Tomás de Alsina was almost as tactful, and equally taciturn: saving the Infante’s reverence and judgment several times, he opined that “these visions are dreams or powerful thoughts; nor do I believe that they should be called visions or that faith should be given them.” 81 The Infante’s Dominican supporters were also concise: the two magistri, testified together that there were three reasons for believing that the Infante’s visions had come from God. In the tradition stemming from the Vita Antonii (which they cite), the Dominicans assert that the Infante’s visions initially caused terror, but eventually evoked joy and comfort. Second, the visions induced the Infante to do good rather than evil, in accordance with the mandate of Deuteronomy 13. 82 Third, the Infante’s predictions of the future have been fulfilled, according to Deut. 18:22. 83 The only one of the Infante’s adversaries who went into detail about his doubts was the Carmelite Pedro de Ribas, Prince Juan’s post factum addition to the panel, who submitted his treatise a month after the Dominicans had done so. Ribas is identified as doctor in sacra pagina, and he had received his licentiate at Paris in 1363. 84 His contribution reveals a stereotypically scholastic interest in citing authorities for every possible assertion. However, even he built numerous escape clauses into a short but highly technical treatise on distinguishing between divine and diabolic revelations. He began by citing Augustine to the effect that he “would not Informatio, in Pou y Martí, Visionarios, 378–9. Cf. Pou y Martí, Visionarios, 375–6 n. 10, for a partial transcription. 81 Informatio, in Pou y Martí, Visionarios, 395: “illas visiones reputo fuisse sompnia uel vehementes cogitationes, nec credo quod visiones dici debeant, ac eis fides sit adhibenda.” 82 Informatio, Pou y Martí, 379–80. In fact, Deut. 13:2–6 offers only a negative proof: if someone claims to be a prophet and advises following strange gods, he is false and should be killed. 83 Ibid., 380. 84 Denifle and Chatelain, CUP 3.1275, records a request for a licentiate from the Carmelite Prior General Iohannes Balistarii for his fellow Catalonian Petrus Rivi or Riu in May 1363. Also cf. Benedict Zimmermann, Monumenta historica Carmelitana (Lirinae: ex typis abbatiae, 1905), 1:306. 79 80

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believe the gospel without the authority of the Church to prompt me.” 85 Given Augustine’s testimony, Ribas argues, one is justified in doubting the Infante’s visions, since “the illustrious lord Infante, although full of good life and good morals” is not as holy as the Evangelists! 86 Only the “authority of the Church” is empowered to examine or approve visions, Ribas asserts, and carefully continues: “Therefore, without prejudice to anyone and saving the reverence of our lord the Infante, it seems to me that such visions of events should not be believed unless the authority of the Church recommends [it].” 87 In particular Ribas notes that Urban V’s earlier examination of Pedro’s visions involved seven masters of theology but not “the brothers and the lord Cardinals in the name of the Holy Spirit,” making that determination insufficiently authoritative. 88 Lacking miracles, canonization, or scriptural testimony, Ribas suggests, the best way to determine whether or not the Infante’s visions come from God is to use the yardstick of Deut. 18:22 and check to see whether the visions’ predictions come to pass. 89 Ribas then faults the Infante’s visions for falsely claiming that Pope Urban V would not return from Rome and that Henry of Trastamara would gain the Castilian throne. 90 Ribas conInformatio, Pou y Martí, 380: “Et euangelio non crederem nisi auctoritas ecclesie me moueret.” Although Augustine makes a similar statement on several occasions throughout his work, this precise wording does not occur anywhere; Ribas was probably referring to the remark in Contra Epistolam Manichaei Qui Vocant Fundamentum 1.6 (PL 42, 176): “Ego vero Evangelio non crederem, nisi me catholicae Ecclesiae commoveret auctoritas.” The idea was certainly current, and certainly attributed to Augustine. William of Ockham, for instance, wrote in his Dialogus 1:1 (ed. Kilcullet et al. as William of Ockham: Dialogus, British Academy Medieval Texts Editorial Committee, http://www.britac.ac.uk/pubs/dialogus/ockdial.html, 6) that “teste Augustino … ‘nec evangelio’ inquit ‘crederem nisi auctoritas ecclesie compulisset.’” 86 Informatio, Pou y Martí, 381: “Illustris domini Infantis, licet bona vita et bonis moribus pleni.” 87 Ibid.: “Ideo sine preiudicio cuiuscumque et salua Reuerentia domini nostri domini Infantis, michi videtur quod talibus visionibus factorum non est credendum nisi auctoritas ecclesie moveat.” 88 Informatio, Pou y Martí, 382–3: “fratrum et dominorum Cardinalium in nomine spiritus sancti ad hoc congregatorum predictas visiones.” It is interesting to speculate whether Ribas may have been influenced here by the beginnings of conciliarist thought. 89 Informatio, Pou y Martí, 382: “hoc habebis signum: quod in nomine Domini propheta ille praedixerit et non evenerit, hoc Dominus non locutus est.” Ribas sensibly avoids quoting the remainder of Deut. 18:22, since it continues “sed per tumorem animi sui propheta confinxit” and is preceded by the injunction to kill false prophets! (Ribas also points out that false prophets and heretics may speak the truth, while miracles are not sufficient proof in themselves; he may have Cum ex iniuncto in mind.) 90 Henry of Trastamara actually did gain the Castilian throne, but in 1380 his halfbrother Peter the Cruel seemed to have the upper hand. The prediction of Henry’s victory appeared in the Infante’s “Cedars of Lebanon” commentary mentioned above. 85

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cludes that since Pedro’s visions “labor and fulminate against our most holy lord Pope Clement (who indeed rules over the whole Church of God), … it follows that neither I nor we should believe such visions, but rather have to both refute and abolish them, always saving [his] great reverence.” 91 If the Infante continues to believe in his visions, then only the authority of the Church can make a true determination; if, however, he begins to doubt them, then so much more are the panel of experts entitled to doubt them. In all these matters, Ribas concludes, he will, of course, defer to the correction of the pope and Holy Church. 92 Although he may simply be trying to discredit Urban V’s approval procedure, Ribas’s effort to address the Infante’s visions in terms of ecclesiastical authority and jurisdiction seems to prefer the authority of “brothers and Cardinals” to that of masters of theology. In some respects, his efforts to address the jurisdictional question evoke Gerson’s more systematic treatment fifty years later. 93 This is not really a solution to the problem of the Infante’s visions, given the lack of contemporary clarity over which set of cardinals to consult. It is, however, a doctrinally safe escape clause on Ribas’s part and is a concerted effort to avoid crediting Urban V’s masters of theology (or even Urban V himself!) with the right to pronounce definitively on a given set of revelations. The day after Ribas’s treatise was recorded in the Informatio, the Franciscan master of theology Bernard Broll 94 submitted a treatise responding to Ribas, or rather to the “malevolent detractors, or rather perverters of the truth, who bark and murmur everywhere in secret and in public against the [Infante’s] Reuelationes.” 95 According to Broll, these “detractors” offer three methods of judging Pedro’s visions: “from the information and structure of the revelations themselves… from the judgment and appearance of Holy Scripture … [and] from the advice and opinion of many doctors.” 96 Broll offers to prove by all three methods that the Infante’s Ibid.: “Preterea cum iste visiones moliantur et fulminentur contra sanctissimum dominum nostrum dominum papam Clementum (qui vere presidet toti ecclesie Dei) … inde sequitur quod nec ego nec nos debemus credere talibus visionibus, immo habemus et reffutare et abolire, salua semper reuerentia multa.” 92 Ibid., 383–4. Of course, Ribas does not specify which pope he means here! 93 See Chapter Six’s discussion of Gerson’s De examinatione doctrinarum for a more systematic take on the jurisdictional aspect of discretio spirituum. 94 Broll must have received his licentiate outside Paris; in 1380, he was Vicar General of the Franciscan province of Mallorca and the Infante’s ally in reforming the Order. 95 Informatio, Pou y Martí, 384: “detractores maliuoli, immo veritatis potius peruersores, latrant et murmurant, hinc inde in occulto et publico contra Reuelationes.” 96 Informatio, Pou y Martí, 384: “ex ipsarum reuelationum indicio et contextu … ex sacre sacripture judicio et pretextu … ex doctorum multorum consilio et prospectu.” (The parallel is much clearer in Latin.) 91

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visions come from God. The first issue, that of the revelation’s structure and content, seems to be the easiest: what evil spirit, Broll asks, would demand the reform of the Church and its prelates? The form of Pedro’s visions is irrelevant, since the devil could disguise himself as an angel of light, but the visions’ good results identify them conclusively as God’s. 97 Moreover, Pedro’s life is a moral one, full of zeal for church reform, and, “according to the doctors” (and Broll cites numerous authorities), “the discernment of good spirits from evil is not difficult, for if joy follows after fear, we know that help has come from the Lord.” 98 As for the second method (“according to Holy Scripture”), Broll quotes passages from Deuteronomy 13 and 18 along with Nicholas of Lyra’s commentary to demonstrate that on the one hand several of Pedro’s predictions have already come true (he mentions the papacy’s return to Rome and the death of Urban V) and that on the other hand Pedro’s revelations are leading people to God, while the Clementine cardinals at Avignon are “deceived and misled by the devil.” The cardinals’ assertion that Pope Urban VI was not canonically elected is not shared by most of the world, Broll argues, and “with every sort of reverence for the aforesaid lord Cardinals, this response … is not at all satisfactory.” 99 But, while the cardinals are falling into the grave sin of mendacity, the Infante’s revelations “contain nothing profane, nothing diabolic, by the judgment of many.” 100 Finally, having disposed of the cardinals to whom Ribas appealed, Broll turns to the opinions of other doctors, and claims that eleven masters of theology approved the Infante’s revelations under Urban V. Many others have done so since then, he adds, including Antony Folquet (one of the Dominicans who testified in the Informatio), and the Franciscan Cardinal Bishop Bertrand [Atgerius] of Ostia in a document he sent via Stefan Fort. 101 According to Broll, Atgerius considered Urban V’s trip to Rome, his return, and his death to conclusively prove the divine origin of Pedro’s 1365 revelations and went so far as to quote John’s Revelation in an effort 97 Ibid., 384–5. Broll cites not only 2 Cor. 11:14 but the pseudo-Augustinian De fraudibus diaboli; like Ribas, his every point is laden with numerous citations. 98 Ibid., 385: “non est difficilis bonorum spirituum malorumque discretio; si enim post timorem successerit gaudium, a Domino venisse scimus auxilium.” (Discussion of Pedro’s morality and zeal for reform appear on p. 386.) This familiar maxim originates in the Vita Antonii (cf. Chapter One). 99 Informatio, Pou y Martí, 387: “deceptus a diabolo et illusus. Sed cum omnimoda reuerentia dominorum Cardinalium predictorum, ista responsio in proposito nullatenus satisfacit.” 100 Ibid., 388: “nichil prophanum, nichil diabolicum continetur, multorum judicio.” 101 Ibid., 389–91. This is the Cardinal Atgerius of Pedro’s 1379 letter, and while his response is lost, it is summarized in both Broll’s and Fort’s (supra) treatises.

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to discourage any alteration of Pedro’s words. 102 Of course, Atgerius had insisted that the Infante’s 1379 visions were false insofar as they held Urban VI to be the true pope, but Broll brushes this off as already proven wrong, and adds that in any case the Infante’s visions could be interpreted morally as well as literally. 103 Broll proceeds to a general argument, offering three signs by which doctors of theology “know when a true revelation is made to someone by God, and if these three signs concur, then such [a revelation] ought reasonably to be believed.” 104 The signs are “a good life on the part of the one to whom the revelation is made, … the fulfillment of some of his earlier revelations, … [and] signs to someone or advance warning of signs.” 105 Nobody “not malevolent” could doubt the Infante’s good life, and his earlier visions are known to have come true; finally, Pope Urban V himself predicted the Infante’s arrival by “great and marvelous signs.” 106 Thus, Broll concludes, the Infante’s revelations are clearly given by God for the reform of the holy Church. What is crucial to both Broll and Ribas – and what they devote a majority of their treatises to addressing – is the Schism: not only was it the proximate motivation for the Informatio, but it offered a spectacle of divided authority to which prophetic certainty (as exemplified by the Infante) was both a challenge and a possible solution. Broll called on the authority of previous theologians both to shape his own set of guidelines and to buttress his claims about the Infante’s revelations, which ultimately supported his preferred papal candidate. Ribas, whose Clementine loyalties would not allow him to accept the Infante’s prophetic verdict, realized that these visions posed a problem for his much-lauded “authority of the Church” and that any determination made during the Schism must remain conditional. This was the case even though Ribas’s auctoritas ecclesiae was not simply the papacy but also the college of cardinals. For both Broll and Ribas, the Schism was the mother of invention: if nobody could agree on which pontiff, and hence which Church, was empowered to decide the 102 That is, Rev. 22:18, which invokes curses on anyone who would presume to alter or leave out parts of John’s revelation. 103 Informatio, Pou y Martí, 391–3. Broll cites Augustine and Bede on this point while outlining a standard fourfold method of exegesis. 104 Ibid., 394: “Item, doctores theologi ponunt quod ex tribus signis cognoscitur quando uera reuelatio est facta diuinitus alicui, et si illa tria signa concurrant, tunc tali rationabiliter est credendum.” 105 Ibid.: “bona vita illius qui fit reuelatio … aliquorum eidem reuelatorum precedentium adimpletio … alicuius signi uel signorum prenuntiatio.” Broll attributes the first two of these to William of Auxerre and the third to Aquinas (Summa IIaIIae q. 72 a. 3). 106 Informatio, Pou y Martí, 394: “non maleuoli … magnum signum et mirabile.” Broll is referring to the Infante’s Revelationes.

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authenticity of visions, then alternative methods of determination had to be found, and the expert testimony of theologians such as themselves was a likely option. Perhaps this is the explanation for their shared emphasis on the authority of Deuteronomy. It definitely explains their shared interest in the testimony of theological experts – and their own choice to act as such! – in order to distinguish between true and false visions or revelations. Taken together with Alfonso Pecha’s writings, the treatises of the Informatio allow the Schism’s role in the appeal to outside authority for the discernment of spirits to become increasingly clear.

From Apostle to Saint Catherine of Siena, the Dominican tertiary whose piety and asceticism overcame her middle-class background to the point that she advised popes and secular rulers, lacked both Pedro’s royal connections and his easy acceptance of divine inspiration. Perhaps as a result, she dealt with discretio and discretio spirituum in her “book,” the Dialogo, often enough that editors from the sixteenth through the twentieth centuries erroneously tried to isolate a “Treatise on Discretion” within the work. 107 Her hundreds of extant letters of advice also contain sporadic references to the discernment of spirits. 108 Although Catherine was conscious of the devil’s potential to deceive, she practiced and preached adherence to a virtuous life and to Christ crucified. A will sufficiently conformed to Christ was, Catherine maintained, immune to the forces of evil; the only difficulty lay in achieving the necessary level of conformity. Catherine’s position was far from naïve or optimistic: she emphasized the constant threat of demonic temptation and the difficulty of giving oneself over wholly to Christ. However, her teachings suggest that distinguishing true and false revelations should be possible – indeed, relatively straightforward – for any truly devout Christian soul. Despite Catherine’s veneration for the Church and its pontiff, her vision of discretio spirituum was a radically democratic one, 107 This long-running misconception was first identified as such by Giuliana Cavallini, “La struttura del Dialogo cateriniano nella edizione francese del 1913 e in quella italiana del 1968,” Rassegna di ascetica e mistica 21 (1970): 369–83. 108 Karen Scott has offered a groundbreaking analysis of Catherine’s letters in an article entitled “‘Io Catarina’: Ecclesiastical Politics and Oral Culture in the Letters of Catherine of Siena,” in Dear Sister: Medieval Women in the Epistolary Genre, eds. K. Cherewatuk and U. Wiethaus (Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press, 1993). As Scott points out, “Catherine’s correspondence is characterized by a combination of didactic content, personal tone, and passionate concern to affect public matters and people’s lives,” 88.

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ignoring distinctions between clergy and laity, learned and illiterate, male and female. 109 The earliest evidence of Catherine’s attitudes toward discernment comes in a letter dated to sometime before May 1374, addressed to an unidentified religious “father” who had evidently expressed concern that Catherine’s unusual eating habits were a deception of the devil rather than a sign of divine favor. 110 Catherine’s response is polite: “I’m sure it is only your zeal for God’s honor and my welfare that prompts you to fear that the devil’s deception is at work.” 111 Her correspondent, fearing that Catherine thought herself infallible, had warned that “such a belief is itself a trick of the devil.” 112 Catherine assures the “father” that “I am always fearful because of my own weakness and the devil’s cleverness. I do indeed believe I can be deluded.” 113 However, she asserts, “then I turn to the tree of the most holy cross of Christ crucified; there I lean; there I want to nail myself fast. I have no doubt that if I am nailed fast with him in love and in As Karen Scott points out in another examination of Catherine’s theology, “perfection is accessible to everyone, lay and religious, poor and rich, active and contemplative, male and female. In particular, perfection is accessible to a Dominican tertiary like Catherine, whose religious status in the fourteenth century was ambiguous, somewhere between lay and religious, poor and rich, and active and contemplative.” Scott, “‘This is why I have put you among your neighbors’: St. Bernard’s and St. Catherine’s Understanding of the Love of God and Neighbor,” in Atti del simposio internazionale Cateriniano-Bernardiniano, ed. Domenico Maffei and Paolo Nardi (Siena: Accademia Senese Degli Intronati, 1982), 293. 110 The dating of this letter supposes that such criticism of Catherine’s behavior would not have been made public after the Dominican Order signaled its approval by releasing her from local authority during her trip to Florence in May 1374. Cf. E. Dupré Theseider, Epistolario di Santa Caterina da Siena (Roma: Istituto storica italiano per il Medio Evo, 1940), 1:80 n.1. 111 Catherine, Dupré Theseider (DT) Letter 29, 80 (MT Letter 92); trans. S. Noffke, The Letters of St. Catherine of Siena vol. 1 (Binghamton, NY: SUNY-Binghamton, 1988), 7: “So’ certa che non vi muove so no el zelo dell’onore di Dio e della salute mia, temendo voi l’assedio e le illusioni delle dimonia.” Unfortunately, only one volume of Dupré Theseider’s critical edition of Catherine’s letters has been published. This has been translated by Suzanne Noffke, who has also rendered Catherine’s Dialogo into excellent English. For convenience and brevity, I have used Noffke’s translations of Catherine’s works wherever possible; where no translation is available, I have made my own mistakes. I have given the original Italian and the letter numbers in both the Dupré Theseider (DT) and the older Misciattelli/Tommasèo (MT) editions where possible, along with the page number of the edition from which I have taken the Italian. MT in full is Le Lettere di S. Caterina da Siena. ed. Piero Misciattelli (Firenze: Casa Editrice Marzocco, 1939–40). 112 Ibid., 81: “che questo è inganno del dimonio.” 113 Ibid.: “per la mia flagelità et per l’astutia del dimonio io sempre temo, pensando di potere essere ingannata.” Cf. also MT 65, where demons hide under virtue and charity. 109

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deep humility, the devil will have no power over me. And this is not because of my own powers but because of the power of Christ crucified.” 114 The same theme echoes through later letters, as in one to her confessor Raymond of Capua (1330–99): “I’m sure that if you are bound and set ablaze in the gentle Jesus, all the devils of hell with all their cunning will never be able to tear you away from so sweet a union.” 115 Instead, Raymond and his entourage must “stay hid, then, within selfknowledge, and don’t be caught outside yourselves, lest the devil catch you with all sorts of illusory imaginings against one another – for he would do this to rob you of the union of divine charity. This is why I want you, and I command you, to be submissive to one another.” 116 For Catherine, then, the union of charity with Christ makes possible an elevated self-knowledge and humility through which the soul cannot be deceived by forces of evil, although demonic deceits must be countered by self-knowledge and faith. When she identifies a number of different “lights,” the most important is “not the light of mental visions, nor of other consolations, but the light of truth: that is, which knows truth in the blood, which intoxicates the soul, desiring God through the sensation of charity with the light of the holiest faith.” 117 This distrust of visions and consolations only adds to Catherine’s disapproval of those who rely on ephemeral, “mystical” states; the “union of divine charity” is more of a lifestyle, but it does require maintenance in the outside world. 118 Indeed, Catherine’s Ibid.: “Ma io mi rivolgo pio e apogiomi all’arboro della santissima croce di Cristo crocifisso, e ine mi voglio conficare; e non dubito che, s’io starò confitta e chiavellata con lui per amore e con profondo umilità, che le dimonia non potranno contra me, non per mia virtù, ma per la virtù di Cristo crocifisso.” A similar theme of cleaving to Christ in a union of charity appears in MT 188, MT addtl. 11, and many others. 115 Catherine, DT Letter 65, 273 (MT Letter 219); Noffke, Letters, 206: “Bene ch’io non dubbito che, se voi sarete infiammati e legati nel dolce Gesù, che se fussero tutti I demoni dello’nferno con tutte le malitie loro, non vi potranno mai partire da sì dolce unione.” 116 Ibid.; Noffke, Letters, 207: “Adunque state nascosti nel cognoscimento di voi, e none state fuori di voi, acciò che Malatasca non vi pigli con le molte illusioni e cogitationi l’uno con l’altro, e questo farebbe egli per torvi l’unione della divina carità. E però io voglio e vi comando che l’uno sia subietto all’altro.” 117 Catherine, MT Letter 227, 3:303: “Non dico luce per visioni mentali, nè per altri consolazioni, ma luce di verità; cioè, che cognosciuta la verità del sangue, l’anima s’inebria, gustando Dio per affetto di carità col lume della santissima fede.” Cf. also MT Letter 315 (5:30) on how spiritual consolations are often the hidden deceits of devils, making the spiritual life seem boring (tedio) by comparison. This same theme comes up later in the Dialogo. 118 Again, compare Scott’s observations in “‘This is why I have put you among your neighbors,’” 288: “It is important to note that by ‘being in God’ Catherine does not mean simply the mystical experience of union with God, or a lesser form of unitive prayer, or 114

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theory of discernment combines a relatively positive view of human nature with a strong doctrine of grace. 119 She tells one correspondent to encourage the natural light “which God has given you” so that he may enjoy its perfection, “namely, [that perfection] which attends perfectly, with which one’s sight knows and discerns truth from lies and worldly vanity.” 120 Anyone “whose [self-]love obscures the eye of the intellect,” on the other hand, “will not be allowed to know or to discern the truth; but he will see lies in truth and truth in lies.” 121 Again, the radical egalitarianism of Catherine’s ideas of discernment comes through: her advice is the same whether it is given to her confessor, to Pope Gregory, or to a Sienese noble’s wife. Through an interior (though not ecstatic) process of “cleaving to Christ” and avoiding self-love, the soul can achieve self-knowledge, humility, and seeming immunity to the threat of demonic deception. The work Catherine called “my book,” best known to her editors as the Dialogo della divina provvidenza, offers a more deliberate (if not noticeably more systematic) perspective on the topic of discernment. In the Dialogo, it is particularly difficult to distinguish between monastic discretio, or discretion in general, and discretio spirituum, or discernment. Both are rendered discrezione in Catherine’s native dialect. And, indeed, the two seem to be fused in Catherine’s thought. On the one hand, Christ tells the soul that she “should be discerning in her penance … being done without the discerning light of the knowledge of oneself and of my goodness, it would fall short of my truth. It would be undiscerning, not loving even the fact of man’s ontological dependence on God. Being ‘in God’ or loving one’s neighbor ‘in God’ means loving the way Christ did, without self interest or desire for one’s own consolation, and for the best interest of the neighbor. She asks that the Christian direct his prayers, energies, and active works of charity toward helping the neighbor obey God’s will and be saved.” 119 Of course, Catherine’s advice here assumes a baptized and therefore redeemed individual given this ability by God. As Catherine puts it in one of many similar passages, “It seems to me that we have no reason to fear, because God has made us strong against any adversary. What can the devil do against us? He has been made weak; he lost his power through the death of God’s son.… This gentle God has given us the strength of our will, which is the soul’s fortress, and neither the devil nor anyone else can take it away from us” (DT Letter 52; Noffke, Letters, 158; cf. also DT Letter 36). However, achieving union with the crucified Christ – and receiving the ability to discern good from evil – involves more than simply a strong will. 120 Catherine, MT Letter 301, 4:263–4: “il lume che Dio v’ha dato…. In che si dimostra la sua perfezione; cioè che perfettamente vegga, col quale vedere cognosca e discerna la verità dalla bugia e vanità del mondo?” 121 Catherine, MT Letter 48, 1:185: “Il quale amore offusca l’occhio dell’intelletto, che nol lassa cognoscere nè discerene la verità; ma la bugia vede in verità, e la verità in bugia.” In MT Letter 315 (5:28ff.), she reverses the causality, describing self-love as an active force which deceives reason in various ways.

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what I most love and not hating what I most hate. For discernment is nothing else but the true knowledge a soul ought to have of herself and of me, and through this knowledge she finds her roots.” 122 This sort of discernment sounds like the monastic virtue, and indeed, we are repeatedly told that the antithesis of discrezione is either pride or foolishness. 123 On the other hand, in both the letters and the Dialogo, discrezione as selfknowledge is obviously closely linked to the ability to see through deception: “Just as all truth is gained by the light of faith, so falsehood and delusion are won through infidelity. … Who has deluded them? None but themselves, for they have thrown away the light of living faith and they go about as if they were blind, groping and clutching at everything they touch.” 124 And this ability to see through deception is once again connected to the virtue of discernment: “Discernment is that light which dissolves all darkness, dissipates ignorance, and seasons every virtue and virtuous deed. It has a prudence that cannot be deceived …. Discernment’s truly humble prudence evades every devilish and creaturely snare, and with unarmed hand – that is, through suffering – it overcomes the devil and the flesh.” 125 Although Catherine does acknowledge that the devil tempts souls in different ways according to their stations in life, she also insists that these temptations can all be resisted by proper discernment arising from faith and charity. 126 Catherine of Siena, Dialogo 9, ed. Giuliana Cavallini, Dialogo delta Divina Provvidenza ovvero Libra della Divina Dottrina (2nd edition Siena: Edizioni Cantagalli, 1994), 26–7; trans. S. Noffke, Catherine of Siena: The Dialogue (Mahwah, NJ: Paulist Press, 1980), 40: “Con questa discrezione debba fare la penitenzia sua … cioè facendo il fondamento sopra la penitenzia, impedirebbe la sua perfezione, perchè non sarebbe fatta con lume di cognoscimento di sè e della mia bontà discretamente, e non pigliarebbe la verità mia, ma indiscretamente, non amando quello che Io più amo, e non odiando quello che Io più odio. Chè discrezione non è altro che uno vero cognoscimento che l’anima debba avere di sè e di me; in questo cognoscimento tiene le sue radici.” This formulation is markedly similar to Bernard of Clairvaux’s writings on discretio. 123 Cf. Dialogo 9 and 121 on pride, and Dialogo 140 and 159 on foolishness. 124 Catherine, Dialogo 46, 119 and 122; Noffke, Dialogue, 94–5: “Come ogni verità s’acquista col lume della fede, così la bugia e l’inganno s’acquistano con la infedelità. … Chi gli à ingannati? Essi medesimi, perchè s’ànno tolto il lume della fede viva e vanno come accecati, palpando e attaccandosi a quello che toccano.” 125 Catherine, Dialogo 11, 36; Noffke, Dialogue, 44–5: “Ella è quello lume che dissolve ogni tenebre, e tolle la ignoranzia e ogni virtù condisce, e ogni strumento di virtù attuale è condito da lei. Ella à una prudenzia che non può essere ingannata. … Con vera umilità campa e passa tutti i lacciuoli del dimonio e delle creature colla prudenzia sua. Con la mano disarmata, cioè col molto sostenere, à sconfitto il dimonio e la carne.” 126 Cf. Dialogo 44, one of relatively few passages in the Dialogo where Catherine even mentions distinctions between believers. Here she distinguishes between laypeople, clerics, vowed religious, and religious authorities. Of course, as apostola she clearly gave 122

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Just as discernment springs out of charity, a lack of discernment is associated with self-love and self-reliance. 127 At one point Catherine warns her readers that the devil can take on the appearance of light to a “gluttonous” individual “to catch the soul with the hook of that very spiritual pleasure she has sought in visions and spiritual delight.” 128 This is followed by Catherine’s only practical effort at distinguishing between good and evil spirits: the single “sign” she offers is the standard advice from the Vita Antonii that the devil initially arouses joy but leaves the mind in “weariness and darkness,” while God initially inspires “holy fear. … And with this fear comes gladness and security.” 129 This rubric, which is recounted by God in the Dialogo, is once again available to anyone: “the soul, if she chooses to behave humbly and prudently, cannot be deluded. The one deluded will be the soul who chooses to travel only with the imperfect love of her own consolation rather than of my affection.” 130 Catherine’s vision of discretio spirituum is centered in the relationship between the soul and Christ: discretio spirituum as a charism of the Holy Spirit is nowhere emphasized, nor is the approval of a spiritual advisor. 131 Issues of gender, class, clerical orders, and even her own vocation as apostola are relatively unimportant to Catherine when it comes to discerning spirits, as is the community’s verdict on her experiences. In her own writings, discernment is interior and, as far as one can tell, personal. Catherine had repeatedly advised Pope Gregory XI to return to Rome; when this advice helped to precipitate the Schism in 1378, she wrote letters in support of the Roman pope, Urban VI, until her own death less than two priests (and especially the pope) unique roles with regard to the sacraments and responsibility for the spiritual welfare of Christendom, but none of these distinctions operates when it comes to the question of discernment. 127 Cf. Dialogo 44, 69, 140, etc. 128 Catherine, Dialogo 71 (184); Noffke, Dialogue, 133: “E questo fa per pigliarla con l’amo del proprio diletto spirituale che à posto nelle visioni e diletto della mente.” This is a rare citation of 2 Cor. 11:14. Other passages (e.g., Dialogo 103) also reprove the soul who places too much value on spiritual consolations. 129 Catherine, Dialogo 71, 185; Noffke, Dialogue, 133: “e rimane tedio e tenebre” and “timore santo … e con esso timore riceve allegrezza e sicurtà.” (Chapter One of this work deals with the Vita Antonii.) 130 Catherine, Dialogo 71, 186; Noffke, Dialogue, 134: “l’anima, se ella vuole andare umile e con prudenzia, non possa essere ingannata. Il quale inganno riceve l’anima che vuole navicare solo con l’amore imperfetto delle proprie consolazioni più che dell’affetto mio.” 131 It is not that Catherine ignores the third person of the Trinity; throughout the Dialogo, the Spirit is active as mercy and love, and it is the Spirit which confers grace on believers (thanks to Christ’s sacrifice). On the issue of discretio, however, the Holy Spirit is well-nigh absent from Catherine’s rhetoric, and discretio spirituum is never identified as a charism of the Holy Spirit but is linked to Christ.

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years later. 132 As Karen Scott has suggested in a series of incisive articles, Catherine’s portrayal of herself in her letters and the Dialogo must be carefully distinguished from the image of “St. Catherine” constructed during the Schism by her confessor and biographer Raymond of Capua, who acted as Catherine’s spiritual director from 1374 until her death in 1380. In 1384, after Raymond had been elected master general of the Dominican Order and well into the battles of the Schism which appeared to vitiate Catherine’s prophetic legacy, he began writing the so-called Legenda Major, which he probably completed around 1395. 133 As Scott points out, Raymond’s portrayal of Catherine emphasizes her supernatural gifts, including divinely inspired literacy and a prophetic wisdom particularly astonishing in a woman. 134 While Alfonso had mentioned Birgitta’s gender only in passing, Raymond approvingly quotes Pope Urban VI as saying that he calls Catherine a “little woman” [muliercula] “not out of contempt for her, but as an expression of the female sex which is naturally fragile, and for our [own] edification. For she ought naturally to fear, whereas we ought to be secure; instead, while we tremble, she remains fearless and comforts us with her persuasive words.” 135 Raymond even argues that Catherine’s gender constitutes the strongest proof that she is divinely inspired: “Who from these signs would not see that the fire of the Holy Spirit dwelt in her? What other proof that Christ spoke in her does one want? … From where did this little woman get such great wisdom? Who instructed her so perfectly? Who taught her such exalted matters?” 136 Catherine’s efforts to stop or end the Schism are discussed in BlumenfeldKosinski, Poets, Saints, and Visionaries, 46–54. 133 Scott, “Mystical Death, Bodily Death: Catherine of Siena and Raymond of Capua on the Mystic’s Encounter with God,” in Gendered Voices: Medieval Saints and Their Interpreters, ed. Catherine M. Mooney (Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press, 1999). For biographical data on Raymond, cf. A.W. van Ree, “Raymond de Capoue: Éléments biographiques,” in Archivum Fratrum Praedicatorum 33 (1963): 159–241. Caciola, Discerning Spirits, 280–283, also collapses Raymond’s Catherine and Catherine’s own writings in an otherwise excellent overview. 134 Scott, “Io Catarina,” 91–4. 135 Raymond of Capua, Legenda major 3.1, as edited in Jörg Jungmayr, Die Legenda Maior (Vita Catharinae Senensis) des Raimund von Capua 1 (Berlin: Weidler Buchverlag, 2004),464: “Mulierculam autem uoco non in contemptus eius sed in expressionem sexus feminei, naturaliter fragilis et ad nostrem instruccionem. Jsta siquidem naturaliter timere deberet, eciam quando nos essemus bene sicuri. Et tamen ubi nos formidamus, ipsa stat absque timore suisque persuasionibus nos confortat.” 136 Raymond, LM prol., in Jungmayr, Die Legenda, 14: “Quis per hec signa non uideat ignem spiritus sancti habitantis in ea? Quis aliud querat experimentum eius, qui loquebatur in ea Christus? … Vnde huic muliercule sapiencia tanta? Quis eam tam perfecte instruxit? Quis eam docuit tam alta?” This sort of movement is deftly understated in Gajano and Redon, 23: “Il corpo di Caterina è un protagonista essenziale nel 132

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In addition to her miraculous gender and wisdom, Raymond’s Catherine also exhibits the way of life expected of a prophet: she identifies secret sins of everyone including the pope, makes only truthful prophecies, identifies devils posing as angels, maintains a sound (though afflicted) body and soul, demonstrates obedience to her confessors and patience with her tormentors, and is scrupulously truthful. Her divinely given abilities are compared to those of a series of biblical figures – all male except for Mary Magdalen. 137 Although God does reassure her that she cannot be deceived if she properly understands herself in relation to him, just as in Catherine’s own writings, a new level of anxiety about the possibility of deception is present in Raymond’s account. 138 When Catherine sees Jesus appear to her in her cell, Raymond claims, “she told me that at the beginning of this vision, which, as in the case of many, was imaginative… she began to be afraid, lest it might be a deception of the enemy, who frequently transforms himself into an angel of light… but the Lord in no way reproved her; instead, he commended her fearfulness.” 139 Jesus promptly tells Catherine that “it would be easy for me to teach your soul through inspiration, so that you could immediately discern between one and another; but so that many others besides yourself may benefit, I will teach you verbally, just as the doctors (whom I have taught) speak.” 140 This academically minded Jesus then continues with a passage reproducing the practical Antonine teaching on discerning spirits found in the Dialogo – that is, God’s visions open with fear and close with sweetness while the devil’s do the opposite. 141

racconto di Raimondo.” Indeed, the “embodiment” of female saints by their male hagiographers is a common trope of late medieval sanctity. Contrast the opposing argument about the term muliercula in Birgitta’s canonization proceedings. 137 Ibid., in Jungmayr, Die Legenda, 24. Raymond does not even employ the obvious biblical precedents for female prophecy but instead lists men: “Cum Iacob siquidem contemplabat, cum Joseph predicabat futura, cum Daniele reuelabat mysteria, cum Dauid confitebatur die noctuque altissimo.” Perhaps Mary Magdalen was cited in view of Catherine’s own self-understanding as “apostola” – but Raymond downplays this role in favor of Catherine’s miraculous prophetic persona. 138 Raymond, LM 1.10, in Jungmayr, Die Legenda, 126. 139 Raymond, LM 1.9, in Jungmayr, Die Legenda, 114: “Fatebaturque michi, quod inprincipio huius uisionis, que ut inpluribus fuit ymaginaria … ipsa cepit formidare, ne foret deceptio jnimici, qui se frequenter transformat in angelum lucis… [2 Cor. 11:14]. Quod ipsi domino nullo modo displicuit, ymo commendauit formidinem.” 140 Ibid.: “Agile foret per inspiracionem animam tua informare, quod statim discerneret inter vnam et aliam. Sed ut prosit eciam alijs quam tibi, uolo te verbo docere. Et quidam doctores, quos ego docui, dicunt.” 141 Cf. supra.

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Raymond’s version of Catherine thus foregrounds her supernatural status, her female embodiedness, and a persistent anxiety about deception which seems quite foreign to the Catherine’s letters and Dialogo. The resulting model of discernment is actually a more traditional model than the one Catherine outlined: its stress on proper behavior and supernatural gifts can be traced back to the patristic era and through many of the authors covered earlier in this study. The only novelty in Raymond’s approach may be his efforts to use Catherine’s gender as a significant argument in favor of her prophetic veracity. Of course, the fact that Raymond has a relatively well-developed “approach” to discernment is another deviation from Catherine. In a development that undoubtedly owed something to the Schism’s palpable affront to Catherine’s prophecies of unity, discretio spirituum became far more central in Raymond’s life of Catherine than in Catherine’s own writings. In Raymond’s account, it is only after Christ teaches Catherine about discernment of spirits that her visions begin to multiply and her abstinences and miracles increase. 142 The visions become even more evident after Catherine’s mystical death, when her heart breaks in two after overflowing with divine love, and Karen Scott has pointed out that Raymond alters the chronology of Catherine’s visionary experiences in order to place her more obviously “apostolic” activities after this death, thereby authorizing the mission of political and ecclesiastical reform that led in part to the Schism. 143 In connection with the theme of discretio spirituum, however, it is important to remember that Augustine’s infallible intellectual vision was available only to one who “somehow dies to this life.” 144 In Raymond’s Legenda, his Catherine moves from anxiety over sensual or imaginary – that is, spiritual – vision to certainty as a result of intellectual vision. Those who doubt her or attribute her visions to diabolic deception are said to lack discernment themselves. 145 Raymond and Catherine obviously have very different readings of Catherine’s visionary and prophetic activity. In her writings, Catherine seems to downplay her revelations, preferring to cast herself as an androgynous Christian soul called to a mission and maintaining that nobody who cleaves completely to Christ can be deceived or harmed by the devil. Raymond, on the other hand, emphasizes the supernatural, prophetic and miraculous character of “St. Catherine’s” life (especially with regard to her gender) and organizes that life so that his readers are first anxious but then Raymond, LM 1.9, in Jungmayr, Die Legenda, 116. Scott, “Mystical Death,” esp. 165–7. 144 Cf. Chapter One. 145 Cf. Raymond, LM 2.5 (Jungmayr, Die Legenda, 242) and 3.6 (Jungmayr, Die Legenda, 558). 142 143

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abundantly clear about Catherine’s ability to distinguish between good and evil spirits. Her approach is relatively novel, while his is firmly rooted in the patristic and medieval discernment tradition, except for his emphasis on gender. Catherine herself was primarily interested in claiming the novel title of “mother” with regard to her “sons,” the churchmen and politicians whom she urged to reform, and that of apostola with regard to the Church she loved. Raymond appropriated for her the additional, more traditional title of “prophet” – casting Catherine’s mission in the most divinely authorized form possible – and emphasized her way of life and her astonishing femaleness as signs confirming that prophecy during the troubled years of the Great Schism, when it seemed that Catherine’s calls for church unity had been delivered in vain. Radical discrezione for Catherine thus became a more conservative form of discretio spirituum for Raymond.

Gender, Prophecy, and the Future Raymond of Capua’s efforts to turn his protégé into a proper female saint did not immediately bear fruit; Catherine would not be canonized until 1461, suggesting that she remained even more controversial (or perhaps less well-connected) than Birgitta. But Raymond’s Legenda major became “by far the best-seller of fifteenth-century mystical hagiography,” 146 so that his picture of a female visionary anxious about diabolic deception and reliant on male authorities set a standard for the future. Meanwhile, the visionary legacies of Birgitta, Pedro, and Catherine affected teachings on discernment during and after the Schism era. The three pre-Schism visionaries produced mixed messages on the subject of gender: while Birgitta and Raymond both argued that the visionary’s gender affected how his or her visions should be assessed, Catherine, Pedro, and (to some extent) Alfonso did not consider it especially important. But once the gender question had been opened, it remained so, and the next generation of writers felt freer to opine about women in general and female visionaries in particular. Another important element expressed by all three pre-Schism visionaries was an emphasis on an experiential relationship with Christ in which their ability to discern spirits is grounded: in Catherine’s case, the “union of divine charity;” in Pedro’s, the prevailing spirit of God; and in Birgitta’s, the more exclusive and definitely more gender-driven “bride of Christ.” During and after the Schism, experience became an important category by which to assess visions. 146

This judgment comes from McGinn, Harvest, 351.

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However, the most striking difference between the pre- and post-Schism ideas of discernment was the division between the roles of the prophet or visionary and the discerner of spirits, a split which began with Alfonso Pecha’s Epistola solitarii. Up to this point, many Christian thinkers who wrote about the discernment of spirits had themselves either been visionaries or had had visions attributed to them; all assumed that they were offering advice directly to prospective visionaries or their spiritual advisors. And all expected that a Christian visionary could deploy some version of discretio spirituum to assess his or her experiences, following in the venerable tradition of St. Antony and many others. Indeed, this was the model underlying the writings of Birgitta, Pedro, and Catherine: although they might seek validation from spiritual advisors, all three also assumed that they themselves could usefully testify to the veracity of their own revelations. But a new model of discretio spirituum emerged along with the Schism, one which assumed that the visionary was unable to assess his or her visions and instead ought to rely on outside authorities to validate any given revelation. Alfonso, Broll, Ribas, and Raymond all subscribed to some version of this “external” model of discretio spirituum. And during the Schism years, as wandering seers and visionaries proliferated, they would increasingly require outside expertise in discretio spirituum to certify their revelations as true. Writing at the end of the fourteenth century, the confessor to the Schism-era visionary Constance of Rabastens prefaced a collection of her visions with the statement that “the Holy Fathers and Doctors of the Church say that a person who has visions has to be examined,” ideally by “knowledgeable, literate, spiritual, approved men.” 147 In the absence of a reliable ecclesiastical hierarchy during the Schism years, the job of discernment (much like the job of resolving the Schism) increasingly fell to university-trained and “approved” theological experts, with the result that new efforts at systematizing discretio spirituum emerged alongside new questions about authority.

Raymond de Sabanac, “Preface to Constance de Rabastens, The Revelations,” trans. Blumenfeld-Kosinski, in Medieval Christianity in Practice, ed. M. Rubin (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 2009), 290–1. The original is in Noël Valois, “Les révélations de Constance de Rabastens et le schisme d’Occident (1384–96),” Annales du Midi 8 (1896): 241–78. Constance posed a special political problem, since her visions supported the Roman pope but her French nation supported the Avignon papacy; as Blumenfeld-Kosinski points out, de Sabanac’s preface probably draws on the Epistola solitarii. 147

Chapter Five

Academic Discernment During the Schism Medieval Universities and the Schism If the visionaries who encouraged the papal return to Rome in the late fourteenth century were at the forefront of their generation’s calls to church reform, the most prominent reformers of the Great Western Schism period were not visionaries but university-based theologians. Indeed, the Schism’s impact on medieval universities may have been even stronger than its effect on prophecy and prophetic discourse. Most obviously, the Schism encouraged a proliferation of new foundations, as rival popes battled to create or renew university charters and establish sympathetic faculties of theology who would affirm their validity. Widespread migrations of faculty and students whose allegiance did not match that of their original institutions made this expansion even easier. However, as R.N. Swanson has pointed out, “this spread of faculties of theology is merely one aspect of a claim which was being increasingly advanced by universities and their members, that they had a right to participate in church affairs.” 1 From efforts to end the Schism to pronouncements on hot-button issues such as tyrannicide to participation in church councils, professional theologians with ongoing ties to one or more medieval universities responded to the crisis of authority precipitated by the Schism by identifying those universities as the loci where Christendom-wide policies ought to be crafted. The deliberations of the theologians even became part of the visionary repertoire of the Schism: after Marie Robine, a supporter of the Avignon papacy, discovered that the kingdom of France had withdrawn obedience from Pope Benedict XIII in 1398, she had a vision in which a group of men weeping around a star had their tears collected and poured back on them by an angel in an endless cycle of mourning. God explained Swanson, Universities, Academics, 13. Cf. also Guy Lytle, “Universities as Religious Authorities in the Later Middle Ages and Reformation,” in Reform and Authority in the Medieval and Reformation Church (Washington, DC: Catholic University of America Press, 1981), 69–97; and André Vauchez , “Les théologiens face aux prophètes à l’époque des papes d’Avignon et du Grand Schism,” in Saints, prophètes et visionnaires, 199–207. 1

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to Marie that this image represented “the masters in theology at the University of Paris,” whose deliberations were just as unending as the tears. 2 It is no wonder, then, that the complex of ideas identified with the discernment of spirits fell increasingly under the purview of universitytrained theologians during this same Schism period. What had once been a decision to be made by an individual visionary (perhaps with help from a confessor or other local religious authority) became open to debate in the best scholastic tradition, and classically scholastic processes of categorization, distinction, and authorization followed in the wake of this shift. The transition was not instantaneous, but in addition to the nearly forgotten treatises that made up the Infante Pedro’s Informatio, the first decade of the Schism saw the publication of a handful of works on discerning spirits authored by high-profile academics who had studied and taught theology at the University of Paris and who were (not coincidentally) now leading the theological effort to find an end to the Schism. These men found themselves in need of rules and methods by which to judge the prophecies which the Schism had made suddenly controversial, both those from contemporary visionaries and those from long-dead prophetic figures. Thanks to the mix of visionary subjects brought to bear on the Schism, these theologians found themselves drawing on several different traditions of writing about true and false revelations, including Spiritual Franciscan, anti-Free-Spirit, monastic, scholastic, and canon-law sources. But they also emphasized new concerns: the ongoing Schism and its eschatological implications, the jurisdictional boundaries of “discernment,” the role of professional theologians in such a process, and the epistemological problem of how to be certain about another person’s innermost experiences. Although these efforts to claim the discernment and testing of spirits as the legitimate and exclusive task of university-trained theologians were not always widely diffused, the theologians seem to have succeeded in their larger battle for new authority. By the end of the Schism era, discretio spirituum was potentially (and, in practice, primarily) a job for “masters of the sacred page,” the elite cadre of schoolmen trained in the interpretation of Scripture. 3

Marie Robine, Livre des Révélations 6, in Matthew Tobin, “Le ‘Livre des Révélations’ de Marie Robine (†1399): Etude et édition,” Mélanges de l’Ecole Française de Rome: Moyen Age, Temps Modernes 98 (1986), 254: “magistris in theologia universitatis Parisiensis.” On Marie, cf. Blumenfeld-Kosinski, Poets, Saints, and Visionaries, 81–5. 3 For an overview of the larger relationship between scriptural mastery and ecclesiastical authority, cf. Ian Christopher Levy, “Holy Scripture and the Quest for Authority among Three Late Medieval Masters,” Journal of Ecclesiastical History 61 (2010): 40– 69. 2

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The Art of Discernment Despite the Schism’s well-known disadvantages for Christendom as a whole, its vagaries accelerated a number of ecclesiastical careers, and that of Pierre d’Ailly (1351–1420) is usually considered a case in point. D’Ailly came from a bourgeois background and rose rapidly through the university ranks, receiving his license and magisterium in 1381 (when he was four years younger than the minimum canonical age). 4 He was also an early starter in administrative and political roles, acting as proctor of the university’s French “nation” in 1372, and carrying a rotulus from the French nation to Pope Clement VII at Avignon in 1379. The French kings were immediately supportive of the Avignon side of the Schism papacy, just as their predecessors had supported (and, some argued, controlled) the fourteenth-century Avignon papacy before the Schism. But the University of Paris, where scholars gathered from across Europe, tried to maintain its neutrality and hosted debates on the best method of ending the Schism. In May 1381, d’Ailly presented the royal court with the university’s case for ending the Schism with a general council (the so-called via conciliaris), but a month later another university representative to the court was first denied permission to speak and then jailed. The court of King Charles VI forbade public discussion of the Schism at the university, jailing or denying degrees to those who defied the ban, and many scholars promptly left Paris for other universities. 5 D’Ailly himself took a well-timed trip to the countryside, but by 1384 he had regained royal favor as the head of the College of Navarre, and in 1389 he was named both royal chaplain and the chancellor of the University of Paris. Thanks in part to d’Ailly’s influence, the royal court reversed its ban on university discussion of the Schism in 1394; newly elected Avignon Pope Benedict XIII promptly promoted d’Ailly to the bishopric of Le Puy in 1395 and to the richer see of Cambrai a year later. This effort to win d’Ailly’s support (or at least silence his voice) was only temporarily successful, since d’Ailly was active in assembling the ill-fated Council of Pisa in 1408 and in supporting its duly elected (and therefore Europe’s third simultaneous) papal line. The second For biographical data on Pierre d’Ailly, in addition to the usual reference works, cf. the sketch in Alan Bernstein, Pierre d’Ailly and the Blanchard Affair: University and Chancellor of Paris at the Beginning of the Great Schism (Leiden: Brill, 1978), 60–9; Christopher Bellitto, “The Early Development of Pierre d’Ailly’s Conciliarism,” Catholic Historical Review 83 (1997): 217–32; and, most of all, Louis Pascoe, Church and Reform: Bishops, Theologians, and Canon Lawyers in the Thought of Pierre d’Ailly (1351–1420) (Leiden: Brill, 2005). 5 Cf. Swanson, Universities, Academics, 35–41, and the complementary account in Bernstein, Pierre d’Ailly, 28–52. 4

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Pisan Pope, John XXIII, rewarded d’Ailly with a cardinal’s hat in 1411 and named him a legate to Germany in 1413, where d’Ailly played a major role in assembling the Council of Constance, which finally ended the Schism with the 1417 election of Pope Martin V and the resignation or removal of the other three candidates. D’Ailly died in 1420 as a legate of Europe’s sole pope. Sometime before the end of the Schism, d’Ailly wrote two treatises which were published together as De falsis prophetis I and II but which are more accurately described as De falsis prophetis and De arte cognoscendi falsos prophetas. 6 Suggestions for their dates of composition have ranged from 1378 to 1413, but, following recent scholarship, this work will assume that De arte cognoscendi dates from around 1380 and De falsis prophetis a little later, perhaps around 1385. 7 Certainly, the two treatises are closely linked, sharing concerns about prophecy, authority, and the role of university-trained theologians in identifying false prophets, but De arte cognoscendi treats false prophecy as part of a series of related issues including hypocrisy, divination, and astronomy, while De falsis prophetis is addressed exclusively to the problems of false prophecy and the Schism. Both treatises view false prophecy as a relatively intractable problem; they consider but reject many of the traditional solutions to discernment quesThe two treatises survive in only one manuscript, Paris BN Lat. 3122, which contains material copied between 1372 and 1388 (or perhaps 1394) at the College of Navarre and which does not indicate even the relative dates of its contents; on this manuscript, cf. Glorieux, “L’oeuvre littéraire de Pierre d’Ailly: Remarques et précisions,” in Mélanges de science religieuse 22 (1965): 67. The only available edition is Louis Ellies du Pin, Joannes Gersonii Opera Omnia (Antwerp: Sumptibus Societatis, 1706; reprinted Hildesheim, NY: Olms, 1987), 1.489–604. De falsis prophetis (DFP I in the du Pin edition cited infra) features a reference to “miracula falsorum prophetarum, maxime hiis temporibus quae ad finem mundi appropinquare videntur magnopere debent esse suspecta, sicut declaratum fuit in prima parte primi articuli, de Arte cognoscendi falsos prophetas” (503). There are no other known patristic or medieval works which could be described by this title, but du Pin’s DFP II – unlike DFP I – begins with a discussion of natural law and refers to “persecutione speciali quam Ecclesia per ypocritas patietur circa adventum antichristi” (col. 516). Another reference to De arte cognoscendi in De falsis prophetis identifies it, logically enough, as “quaestionis De falsis prophetis” (506). 7 In “Les théologiens,” 200, Vauchez dates the two treatises to c. 1380 but does not provide an explanation and dismisses the treatises themselves as “très théorétique et abstrait, au point qu’on se demande parfois s’il ne s’agit pas simplement d’un brillant exercice d’école sur le verset évangélique (Mt, 7, 15).” But Laura Ackerman Smoller, History, Prophecy, and the Stars, 161–2 n. 26, argues from internal evidence that DFP II/De arte cognoscendi postdates d’Ailly’s commentary on Boethius, written between 1377 and 1381. Earlier, Max Lieberman, “Chronologie Gersonienne VIII,” Romania 81 (1960), 82–4, argues that both treatises belong in the fifteenth century, and most recently Pascoe, Church and Reform, 20–3 and 181, dates both to a safe “before 1397.” 6

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tions. For d’Ailly, the problem of false prophecy can be solved only conditionally, and then only by theologians deploying scriptural and scholastic authority. De arte cognoscendi, the longer of the two treatises, is centered on a single question: “Whether, in order to know false prophets, a sufficient method [ars] is given through the holy Scriptures.” 8 While d’Ailly links false prophecy with hypocrisy, following Matthew 7, he also notes the logic of the scriptural injunction to identify false prophets by their “fruits” or works (Matt. 7:16), since only God can know their interior thoughts or consciences, and since other scriptural examples prove that neither moral living nor prophetic accuracy is proof of genuinely divine inspiration. 9 Miracles are likewise useless as evidence; d’Ailly asserts that the Bible offers neither ars nor doctrina for what he terms “discernment or distinction of miracles.” 10 Indeed, humans can be deceived about miracles as a result of not only false prophecy but also human or magical/demonic illusions. However, the identification of false prophets and hypocrites would be profoundly useful to the Church, since they pretend sanctity in garments, words, and deeds and even begin to identify themselves as saints while “bringing in new superstitions under the semblance of religion.” 11 Surely, then, Scripture must offer some more detailed guidance on the topic, since otherwise it is “extremely difficult” to identify hypocrites and false prophets. 12 D’Ailly proceeds to make a key distinction between a general and a specific ars cognoscendi. The general art of identifying false prophets or hypocrites is “given by Christ on account of the rational cause,” and begins from the previously mentioned concept of “fruits” or works. 13 However, “the Lord did not give us a doctrine by which they [can be] known, namePierre d’Ailly, De arte cognoscendi falsos prophetas, du Pin ed., 511: “Utrum ad cognoscendos falsos prophetas ars sufficiens tradita sit per Scripturas sacras.” As Pascoe, Church and Reform, 186, notes, “For d’Ailly… the study of the sacred Scriptures is an art or professional skill (ars) and the theologian is its artisan or skilled craftsman (artifex), not in the sense that he creates the Scriptures, but in the sense that he knows best how to determine their meaning and to ascertain whether a particular teaching is or is not in accord with the Scriptures.” 9 D’Ailly, De arte cognoscendi, in du Pin, Joannes Gersonii, 511–13. 10 Ibid., 513–4: “discretio vel distinctio miraculorum,” 514. 11 Ibid., 514–20, and esp. 520: “novas superstitiones sub specie religionis adinveniendo.” Caciola, Discerning Spirits, 288, sees d’Ailly’s reference to hypocrites who consider themselves saints and precipitate schism as “an oblique attack” on Birgitta and Catherine, but this seems an unnecessarily specific identification. 12 D’Ailly, De arte cognoscendi, du Pin, Joannes Gersonii, 522: “ars cognoscendi… est multum difficilis.” 13 Ibid.: “propter rationalem causam a Christo tradita.” 8

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ly, a specific doctrine, certain and infallible, and this on account of the rational cause; and hence in order to know them we must always be struggling against them, in exertion and in concern.” 14 The connection between false prophecy and hypocrisy breaks down at this point. There is indeed an art or method (ars) for identifying hypocrites, which can be derived “not only from the aforesaid words of Christ” but “sufficiently … from other writings, and teachings of the saints.” 15 But prophecy is quite a different situation. D’Ailly’s discussion moves through related concepts such as divination and demon-summoning in order to focus on prophecy derived from demons, angels, and God. Demonic prophecy takes place “not through illumination properly and strictly speaking, but through imaginary vision, or through speech,” and may not only predict the future accurately but even confirm the true faith by happenstance. 16 In order to distinguish false from true prophecy, the prophecy’s truth is therefore not sufficient, and “there is not a sufficient method [ars] given by the holy Scriptures, or by any others.” 17 Obviously, however, true and false prophecy are not the same thing: they differ as to their efficient cause (true prophecy comes from God or the angels, false from demons); their final cause (false prophets seek temporal gain, true prophets do not); their formal cause (true prophecy partakes of divine certitude, but false prophecy is conjectural); and their material cause (true prophets never speak falsehood, while false prophets do). 18 These four distinctions, of which the first is principal but the other three can also provide useful signs, are founded in Scripture and do allow for “probable knowledge and likely conjecture” of false prophets. 19 However, d’Ailly emphasizes, there is no certain way of rationally distinguishing Ibid., 523: “Dominus non dedit nobis doctrinam qua[m] cognoscuntur, scilicet doctrinam specialem, certam et infallibilem, et hoc propter causam rationabilem, scilicet, ut ad cognoscendum eos semper essemus contra eos in agone, id est in exercitio et sollicitudine.” 15 Ibid., 524 and 522: “non solum ex verbis Christi praemissis” and “sufficienter … ex aliis scripturis, et sanctorum doctrinis.” In fact, d’Ailly offers six methods of identifying hypocrites, most of them supported by scriptural citations along with quotes from Gregory’s Moralia (524–5). 16 Ibid., 576–7, esp. 576: “non quidem per illuminationem proprie et stricte dictam; sed per imaginariam visionem, aut per locutionem.” 17 Ibid., 577: “non est ars sufficiens tradita per Scripturas sacras, vel quascunque alias….” Here d’Ailly is arguing against the tradition of Deut. 18:20-2 as well as pseudoChrysostom’s Matthew commentary, referring his reader back to the beginning of his tractatus and its reliance on Matthew 7. 18 These, of course, are based on the four Aristotelian causes. 19 D’Ailly, De arte cognoscendi, in du Pin, Joannes Gersonii, 578: “probabilis cognitio, et verisimilis conjectura.” 14

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between true and false prophets, since “evident knowledge [ars] is not given, but only probable and conjectural teaching.” 20 Likewise, there is no “evident doctrine given us, through which it [the origin of a given prophecy] can evidently be established.” 21 The role of theologians here is implicit but relatively clear: d’Ailly’s ars generalis cognoscendi requires someone knowledgeable about both Christian Scripture and Aristotelian causes. However, De falsis prophetis – the treatise written at a point when the Schism was clearly outlasting all predictions – makes the role of theologians much more explicit. After beginning the text with the warning of Matt. 7:15 to “beware of false prophets,” d’Ailly promptly equates true prophets with true doctors, and false prophets both with heretics and with false doctores: “The doctors of the Church are called prophets, since they interpret those things which were prophesied about Christ by the ancients; for such prophecies cannot be interpreted, unless by the spirit of prophecy, and therefore false doctors or heretics are called false prophets.” 22 Later in the same treatise, d’Ailly explains that “all those who preach and teach publicly without having been sent by God are false prophets and pseudodoctors.” 23 Echoing William of Saint-Amour, who had written more than a century earlier, d’Ailly sees false prophets as potential competition for the “doctors of the Church,” whether the early Christian teachers of Eph. 4:11 or the theology faculty at the University of Paris, and he even notes that “the teaching [doctrina] of modern times is exceedingly useful” for wouldbe false prophets. 24 The middle section of De falsis prophetis borrows heavily from the parts of De arte cognoscendi which addressed false prophecy. D’Ailly opens with the assertion that while Christ tries to indicate false prophets to his people, neither confessions of faith, nor the gift of prophecy, nor the working of miracles in Christ’s name proves anyone to have been “sent and approved by him.” 25 Although one might expect to identify false Ibid., 578: “ non est ars evidens tradita, sed solum doctrina probabilis, et conjecturativa.” 21 Ibid., 577: “non est aliqua doctrina evidens nobis tradita, per quam posset evidenter constare.” 22 D’Ailly, De falsis prophetis, in du Pin, Joannes Gersonii, 490: “Prophetae dicuntur Doctores Ecclesiae, qui interpretantur ea quae de Christo ab antiquis fuerunt prophetata; non enim potest quis Prophetias interpretari, nisi per Spiritum Prophetiae, et ideo falsi doctores, seu haeretici dicuntur falsi Prophetae.” D’Ailly cites pseudo-Chrysostom as his source, but the equation of doctores and prophetae can be derived from a number of prophetic and early medieval sources; cf. Chapter Two for William of Saint-Amour. 23 Ibid., 508: “omnes illi qui praedicant vel publice docent, non a Deo missi sunt falsi prophetae et pseudodoctores.” 24 Ibid., 510: “doctrina modernis temporis non mediocriter est utilitis.” 25 Ibid., 489: “ab eo missos vel approbatos.” 20

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prophets by their novel or unusual actions or clothing, he points out, John the Baptist and even modern monastic orders dress and behave differently from their lay contemporaries. 26 It is only “by their fruits” (Matt. 7:16) that false prophets can be identified, and through this verse d’Ailly promises to “show the art or doctrine, through which knowledge of false prophets and hypocrites can be obtained.” 27 This time, however, d’Ailly spends more time on what “fruits” entail: the “fruits” of false prophets or hypocrites signify “their works, not the hidden ones, since we cannot judge what is hidden, but the manifest ones.” 28 More precisely, “fruits” refers to their evil works, since they can sometimes feign good or even inadvertently cause good. D’Ailly explains that the verse specifies “fruits” rather than leaves or flowers because the reference is to the evil works which stem from pride and which divine judgment will eventually make manifest. 29 This is the extent of the ars seu doctrina in De falsis prophetis; D’Ailly has abandoned the language of Aristotelian causes for a more mundane botanical metaphor. Again following De arte cognoscendi, De falsis prophetis turns to a list of the many items which do not conclusively prove divine prophecy. An exterior confession of faith, while meritorious, is not probative of salvation, much less prophecy. 30 Moreover, since prophecy is “a freely given grace, which is not given to anyone for the good of the one to whom it is given, but for the use of the Church,” nothing can be deduced about the gift of prophecy from the state of the prophet. 31 In fact – and here d’Ailly unexpectedly echoes Augustinus of Ancona – being a true prophet does not require good morals or a virtuous life, since prophecy pertains to the intellect and not to the will, and only the will is perfected in charity. 32 Miracles are given through God’s grace and so have no bearing on the spiritual state of the miracle-worker; false miracles can also be accomplished in Antichrist’s name, or miracles can be feigned by sleight of hand. 33 And although a true miracle does indeed testify to the truthfulness Ibid., 492–3. Ibid., 497: “ostendit artem seu doctrinam, per quam potest haberi falsorum prophetarum et ypocritarum cognitio.” 28 Ibid.: “opera eorum, non occulta quidem, quia de occultis non judicamus, sed manifesta.” 29 Ibid., 498–9. 30 Ibid., 501. 31 Ibid.: “gratiae gratis datae, quae quandoque non dantur ad bonum illius cui dantur, sed ad utilitatem Ecclesiae.” D’Ailly is repeating the standard Thomistic position; cf. Aquinas’ Summa theologiae IIaIIae, qq. 171–4. 32 Ibid., 502, and cf. Chapter Two. 33 Ibid., 503–6. 26 27

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of its cause, it is not proof that the miracle-worker is necessarily sent by God. John the Baptist, for example, proved himself by scriptural testimony as well as miracle-working, and d’Ailly cites the canon Cum ex iniuncto in support of this connection. 34 It seems that there is no easy or sure way of identifying a true prophet for d’Ailly, although there are quite a few ways of tripping up a false one. At the end of his list of points about those who claim to be sent by God, however, d’Ailly cannot resist a quick reference to what must surely be events happening at the University of Paris in the early 1380s. He innocently observes that one can be truly sent by God through a human agent, as Moses commissioned Joshua or “as the prelates of the Church are sent by the Church; or as some who are not prelates are sent by the prelates of the Church to fill their places, and likewise doctors of theology are sent, by apostolic authority, to take the place of the Pope, and other prelates, especially for teaching and the spiritual management of souls.” 35 In case this hint was not sufficient, d’Ailly continues by noting that “there should be great caution and diligence, on account of those who importunately thrust themselves in, without due or canonical election.” 36 It seems unlikely that a work written at any point after 1379 or thereabouts could refer to the absence of the papacy’s traditional authority, and then to individuals thrusting themselves in without canonical election, without being read as an allusion to the Schism. At precisely this point, d’Ailly recommends “doctors of theology” as the logical solution to this problem of authority posed by the Schism. Like the (now-dysfunctional) pope, they possess “apostolic authority,” and, by d’Ailly’s reasoning, can therefore consider themselves to have been sent by God, albeit at second hand. 37 Not only are Ibid., 507–8. The Cum ex iniuncto reference is on col. 508; cf. Chapter Two. In 1386, d’Ailly used Cum ex iniuncto again in the treatise Super omnia vincit veritas, and in 1388 in Contra Johannem de Montesono, arguing that theologians were directly authorized by the pope to preach doctrine. (Cf. Pascoe, Church and Reform, 177, and Taber, “The Theologian and the Schism,” 93–8.) It is tempting to speculate that the De falsis prophetis reference might have triggered the others. 35 D’Ailly, De falsis prophetis, in du Pin, Joannes Gersonii, 508–9: “sicut Praelati Ecclesiarum mittuntur per Ecclesiam: vel aliqui non Praelati per Ecclesiae Prelatos mittuntur ad eorum vices supplendas: vel sicut Doctores Theologiae mittuntur, authoritate Apostolica, ad supplendum vices Pape, et aliorum Praelatorum, scilicet ad doctrinam et spirituale regimen animarum.” 36 Ibid., 509: “magna debet esse cautela et diligentia, propter eos qui importune se ingerunt, sine debita et Canonica electione.” 37 It would also be considerably easier for a doctor of theology to prove himself as such by “canonical documents” than for a prophet to do the same! (D’Ailly’s claim that theologians possess apostolic authority appears in several other treatises he wrote in the mid-1380s, especially the 1386 Super omnia. Cf. Pascoe, Church and Reform, 171.) 34

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theologians equivalent to prophets in this formulation; they also derive their authority from the same source. It is clearly the theologians who are expected to judge the prophets’ claims to divine inspiration, not the other way around. Taken together, d’Ailly’s two treatises on false prophecy clearly show the influence, not only of the Schism, but of a pervasive and growing sense of doubt – indeed, the word dubitatio is repeatedly invoked as d’Ailly argues both sides of an issue. According to De arte cognoscendi, false prophets simply cannot be identified with accuracy using scriptural methods. There can be only a general doctrine or a conjectural method of distinguishing between true and false prophecy. Meanwhile, both treatises emphasize the uselessness of traditional criteria for true prophecy – lifestyle, miracles, even prophetic accuracy. De falsis prophetis ties the problem of false prophecy back into the Schism: people who claim to have been sent by God may not only be false prophets or pseudodoctores, but uncanonically elected (and therefore false) prelates. And of course false prophets were part of the eschatological landscape of the Schism: D’Ailly was not convinced, as were some of his contemporaries, that the Schism would last until the advent of Antichrist, but at various points he identified it as one of the Church’s seven great persecutions. 38 Both of his treatises on false prophecy allude to the imminent end of days: “especially in these times which seem to approach the end of the world, the miracles of false prophets should particularly be suspected.” 39 Of course, d’Ailly did not go as far as Augustinus of Ancona did by issuing a blanket condemnation of all contemporary prophecy. In fact, d’Ailly cites Hildegard as prophetess, saint, and apocalyptic authority in both false prophecy treatises. 40 In his 1414 Tractatus de materia, he adds that both Joachim and Hildegard are useful guides to the End Times “since [their] authority is proven by many doctors.” 41 Prophecy is a very real and potentially useful gift of the Spirit for d’Ailly, but false prophecy (in both the strict sense and in the more general sense of hypocrisy) is even more

38 Cf. Pascoe, Church and Reform, esp. 15 and 21. Also cf. Reeves, Influence, 422–3, and Smoller, History, 85–101. 39 D’Ailly, De falsis prophetis, in du Pin, Joannes Gersonii, 503: “miracula falsorum prophetarum, maxime hiis temporibus quae ad finem mundi appropinquare videntur magnopere debent esse suspecta.” 40 D’Ailly, De falsis prophetis, in du Pin, 496, 500 and De arte cognoscendi, in du Pin, 519. On d’Ailly’s (generally positive) relation to Hildegard, cf. Reeves, Influence; Smoller, History; and Pascoe, Church and Reform, 18–19. 41 D’Ailly, Tractatus de materia, in Oakley, Political Thought, 316: “quorundam magnorum doctorum probat auctoritas.”

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prevalent and extremely dangerous. 42 Throughout his work, d’Ailly does not refer to discretio or discretio spirituum; he is primarily drawing on scholastic and canon-law traditions and theories of prophecy. If anything, this makes it easier for him to position apostolically authorized doctores as guards against false prophecy. The true prophet is indeed expected to defend himself “through humility and the authority of Scripture,” but the humility, at least, is technically useless in proving his prophecies to be divine, while the scriptural authority is rightfully subject to interpretation by theologians, who are both the Church’s doctors and her truest prophets of all. 43

The Doctrine of Discernment If the young Pierre d’Ailly derived career opportunities from the Schism, his older and more settled contemporary Henry of Langenstein (c. 1325– 97) was seriously inconvenienced by the Schism and its polarization of nationalities. The University of Paris, with a preeminent theology faculty gathered from across Europe, was seriously hurt by Europe’s division into Urbanist and Clementine camps. Langenstein had studied at Paris among luminaries such as Jean Buridan and Nicole Oresme and had served as vice-chancellor of the university from 1371 to 1381; he was renowned for the 1379 Epistola pacis, one of the earliest attempts to apply a conciliar solution to the Schism. 44 In 1381, he further proposed that each papal party agree to abandon a controversial candidate for canonization: for the Clementines, he suggested Charles of Blois, and for the Urbanists, Birgitta of Sweden. 45 But the same royal displeasure that drove d’Ailly out of Paris Pascoe, Church and Reform, 159, notes that d’Ailly, in a sermon delivered at the Council of Constance in 1417, refers to insufficiently reform-minded prelates as false prophets. Here, clearly, d’Ailly is identifying his colleagues as hypocrites, not deluded visionaries. 43 D’Ailly, De falsis prophetis, in du Pin, Joannes Gersonii, 494: “per humilitatem et Scripturae auctoritatem se deffendunt.” 44 For biographical sketches of Langenstein, also known as Henry Heinbuch or Henry of Hesse (but not to be confused with a Carthusian (d. 1327) who also went by the latter name), cf. J. Zemb, “Langenstein (Henri de) in Dictionnaire de théologie catholique (Paris, 1925) 8:2:2574–6; and A. Vanderjagt, “Henry of Langenstein,” in Dictionary of the Middle Ages (New York, 1985), 6:166–7. 45 In his Concilium pacis. Cf. Vauchez, “La faible diffusion des Révélations de sainte Brigitte dans l’espace française,” in Saints, prophètes, et visionnaires, 164; also cf. Sahlin, Birgitta of Sweden, 156–8. Sahlin, 158, notes that there is no way to tell from either the Consilium pacis or the De discretione spirituum whether Langenstein was actually familiar with Birgitta’s Revelaciones. The Concilium pacis, de unione ac 42

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in 1381 led to the gradual exodus of the university’s sizable English and German contingent, including Langenstein. He left Paris in 1382 and spent a productive year at the Cistercian monastery of Eberbach, where Hildegard’s works had been anthologized and where at least one resident visionary was actively predicting a hasty end to the Schism and the advent of Antichrist not long afterward; there Langenstein read both Hildegard and Joachim in hopes of gathering information about Antichrist and the apocalypse. 46 He also wrote the widely-read ascetic/mystical tract Speculum animae and the mixture of contemplative and prophetic theory that he called De discretione spirituum. 47 In 1384 he moved on to a position at the struggling studium at Vienna, which had seized the opportunity of the Schism to acquire a top-flight theology faculty. 48 Although it did not achieve the tremendous popularity of Speculum animae, De discretione spirituum did very well indeed, surviving in about 80 Latin manuscripts. 49 Throughout this lengthy treatise, Langenstein manages to combine elements of monastic ideals of discretio with the portraits of “false mystics” dating from the Free Spirit controversy and the contemporary concerns about prophecy heightened by the Schism. De reformatione Ecclesiae, is in Res concilii oecumenici Constantiensis, edited by Herman von der Hardt (Frankfurt: Solomon Schnorrius, 1697) 2:2–61. 46 The local visionary, Wilhelm of Eberbach, is discussed below along with the Invectiva; cf. infra. Eberbach’s connections with Hildegard dated at least from the priory of Gebeno (fl. 1220), one of Hildegard’s best-known medieval anthologists and apologists; cf. Moulinier, “Et Papa Libros Ejus Canonizavit.” Henry’s research into Hildegard and Gebeno as well as Joachim is confirmed in Langenstein’s 1383 Epistola de schismate, where he emphasizes that a “vir doctus venerabilis Gebeno” had carefully examined Hildegard’s writings and revelations and found them truthful. Langenstein must have been aware that Gebeno was a former prior of Eberbach as well as Hildegard’s thirteenthcentury anthologist and apologist, yet here Gebeno is identified as vir doctus rather than by rank or order, making him sound more like a university-trained theologian than not. Cf. the edition in José Carlos Santos Paz, Cisma y Profecía: Estudio y Edición de la Carta de Enrique de Langenstein a Ecardo de Ders sobre el Gran Cisma (La Coruña: Universidade da Coruña Servicio de Publicacións, 2000), 92, and also Reeves, Influence, 425. 47 The critical edition is Thomas Hohmann, Heinrichs von Langenstein ‘Unterscheidung der Geister’ Lateinisch und Deutsch: Texte und Untersuchungen zu Übersetzungsliteratur aus der Wiener Schule (Munich: Artemis Verlag, 1997). Hohmann discusses the date of the treatise on 36. 48 Cf. Michael Shank, Unless You Believe, You Shall Not Understand: Logic, University, and Society in Late Medieval Vienna (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1988), 16–17. 49 Cf. Hohmann, Heinrichs Von Langenstein, 19–27. He identifies 79 manuscripts in a non-exhaustive survey. There are also three manuscripts with a German translation of De discretione spirituum and a 1652 Latin edition of both Henry of Friemar’s De quattuor instinctibus and Henry of Langenstein’s De discretione spirituum.

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discretione opens with a telling analogy: just as philosophy explains the impulses and functions of created things in terms of form, theology explains them in terms of spirit, “and according to this, spirits are distinguished [and] by which of them man is most immediately agitated and moved.” 50 Thus, the discernment of spirits is placed squarely within the realm of theology. In proper scholastic fashion, Langenstein then outlines five spirits which act naturally inside humans, seven spirits (including the senses) which act on humans from the natural world, and finally the four “substantial” or supernatural spirits which also act on humans: the Holy Spirit; the spirit of a good angel; “the spirit of man, which is soul, for which the twelve preceding spirits are incentives;” and the spirit of an evil angel, which in turn uses the twelve natural spirits “for the perversion and perdition of man.” 51 Since there are so many spirits which can impel man to act, Langenstein explains, “it is most difficult to discern what motion of the soul may be from this or that spirit.” 52 Here De discretione invokes 1 John 4:1’s injunction to test the spirits and explains that John exhorts us to “examine diligently who is moved by a spirit of God and who is deceived by a spirit of dizziness and error.” 53 The possibilities for “dizziness and error” are manifold, since even the most spiritual people experience all twelve of the natural spirits along with various physical conditions which can mimic spiritual messages. Dreams of fire, for instance, can simply indicate an excess of red humors or choler, and people may experience phantasms as a result of everyday thoughts. 54 Such naturally occurring phantasms must not be confused with truly supernatural events, which are relatively rare. Moreover, God can direct or teach people in many ways other than miraculous revelations, including the Henry of Langenstein, De discretione spirituum, in Hohmann, Heinrichs von Langenstein, 52: “et secundum hoc distinguuntur spiritus, quibus immediatius agitatur et impellitur.” 51 Ibid., 54: “sunt adhuc quattuor spiritus substantiales principaliter moventes et agitantes hominem, utpote: spiritus hominis, id est anima, cuius quasi incitamenta sunt duodecim praecedentes spiritus. Secundus est spiritus sanctus. Tertius est spiritus angelicus bonus. Quartus spiritus angelicus malignus, qui saepe utitur praecendentibus duodecim spiritibus tamquam instrumentus ad perversionem et perditionem hominis.” 52 Ibid.: “difficillimum est discernere, qui motus animi sint ab hoc spiritu vel ab illo.” 53 Ibid.: “ut diligenter examinemus, qui spiritu dei aguntur, et qui decepti spiritu vertiginis ducuntur et erroris.” 54 Ibid., 56–8. Andrew Fogelman, “Finding a Middle Way: Late Medieval Naturalism and Visionary Experience,” Visual Resources 25 (2009): 7–28, argues that Langenstein’s naturalistic approach (as well as Gerson’s) was influenced by Nicole Oresme’s naturalistic/medical work debunking non-Christian prophets and astrologers. While this is an interesting line of thought, the present study provides ample precedent for naturalism in authors writing about Christian visions before Oresme and Langenstein. 50

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infusion of virtues, the granting of intrinsic qualities such as intellect or will, and the direction of devotion or zeal. God can also speak to humans through dream visions and interior voices as well as “from within, through the intellectual impression of truth without the intermediary of any imaginary or genuinely sensed likeness…. [B]y this most excellent way of divine inspiration or speech God often spoke to the prophet David, for which reason he is held by some to be the foremost of the prophets.” 55 This sort of inspiration is growing ever more rare, however. Since a person can learn about God from the institutions and doctrines established in past ages, “it is not just, or at least not necessary, for God to miraculously and anew put out a hand as if his device, directing that same person by new revelations or workings of miracles.” 56 Mostly, Langenstein points out, Christians have moved from learning via miracles and revelations to learning via Scripture and the examples of the saints. “Indeed, it seems that because [God] so rarely shows his miracles to the faithful, the word of God is therefore so precious in these days.” 57 Given the preeminent status of Scripture in the modern world, “it must not lightly be believed that all that happens with devotion or care preceding it is a special address from God or prophetic inspiration.” 58 The process of discretio spirituum for Langenstein is therefore threeway: good and evil spirits must be distinguished from one another, and both must be distinguished from natural human spirits. 59 Fortunately, there are ways to do so, some of them more practicable than others. Langenstein suggests that a potential discerner of spirits compare the “conditions of things,” or their natural affinities, explaining that evil spirits will tend towards images like serpents and scorpions, while the Holy Spirit leans towards doves, clouds, fire, and sun. 60 One must also consider the interior signs of the Holy Spirit, including sweetness, concord, modesty, and so Langenstein, De discretione, in Hohmann, Heinrichs von Langenstein, 60–2 and 86–8, esp. 88: “ab intimo, scilicet per intellectualem impressionem veritatis sine ministerio cuiuscumque phantasticae vel realiter sensatae similitudinis. Et tali modo excellentissimo divinae inspirationis vel allocutionis deus plurimum locutus fuit prophetae David, propter quod ab aliquibus eximius perhibetur prophetarum.” 56 Ibid., 78: “non est iustum, saltem non est necesse, ut deus miraculose et noviter apponat quasi manum artificio suo, ipsum dirigendo per novas revelationes vel miraculorum operationes.” (This statement comes toward the end of a passage describing God as artifex, so revealed creation is the artificium.) 57 Ibid.: “videtur, quare modo tam raro fidelibus suis miracula ostendit, et quare tam pretiosus est sermo dei in diebus istis.” 58 Ibid., 80: “Nec leviter credendum aestimo, quod omne quod devotione praemissa aut sollicitudine occurrit, sit specialis dei allocutio vel prophetica inspiratio.” 59 Ibid., 90–6. 60 Ibid., 64. 55

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forth. 61 Langenstein even summons the familiar Antonine theme of the good spirit inspiring first fear, then joy, while the evil spirit does the opposite. 62 There are also hints that diabolic inspiration can be identified by its irrationality and divine inspiration by its purity and abstraction from oneself, although a host of natural phenomena mimic both states. 63 Caritas in particular is a sign of God’s presence, and is shown through signs such as sorrow at having offended God through previous sins, enjoyment at hearing God’s words and words about God, and the revelation of divine truths. 64 Perfect caritas is shown by imitating Christ in loving enemies, bearing adversities joyfully, renouncing all possessions, fearing nothing but God, showing readiness to die, and ardently desiring to join the highest good. 65 But human affections, the motions of the intellect, and natural love can produce many of the same results as divinely inspired caritas. 66 All of these ambiguities lead Langenstein to a simple but important principle: all cases “which are doubtful in origin have to be tested by outcome [fine]. For an outcome shows in many ways what an origin was hiding. Therefore let the outcome and the consummation be investigated of that which cannot be judged as to its impulses from its origin.” 67 This sounds something like Alfonso Pecha’s advice in the Epistola solitarii, although here Langenstein does not require that the visionary have died. His advice is also similar to (but not quite identical with) to the Deuteronomistic tradition of testing prophecies by whether or not they come true, 68 and to the patristic tradition of listing “signs” of true or false prophecy. Although Langenstein does not elaborate much on this principle, testing “by end” seems to relate to both the observable behavior of the potential visionary and the results of his or her messages. Another parallel with Alfonso comes with Langenstein’s interest in a visionary’s status: he points out that in Scripture divine illumination moves down through the ranks of angels and those of humans, as evidenced by kings’ visions such as Pharaoh’s or Nebuchadnezzar’s. In contemporary practice, however, Langenstein does not want to insist that kings are the best visionaries! Instead, in a development d’Ailly would have welcomed, Langenstein Ibid. Ibid., 62. 63 Ibid., 64 and 108. 64 Ibid., 102–4. 65 Ibid., 104–6. 66 Ibid., 108. 67 Ibid., 62: “quae dubiae sunt in origine, probari habent a fine. Exitus enim multitotiens manifestat, quod origo occultabat. Qui ergo motus suos ex origine iudicare non potest, finem investiget et consummationem.” 68 Although Langenstein suggests this possibility as well; cf. ibid., 108. 61 62

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moves from celestial and secular hierarchies to their ecclesiastical equivalents: When it is therefore doubted whether certain visions or miracles come from a good spirit, it must be considered what state or grade in the ecclesiastical hierarchy [the visionary] has or used to have – so that if he is a prelate, if a high official, if a doctor by authority of the Church, if he has been legitimately sent by the Church or sent in a special way by God in order to do those things which he introduces. And he is required to teach about his mission either through authentic letters or evident miracles or numerous outcomes from his prophecies. 69

But behavior can also be taken into account: the visionary should show distrust of his or her own visions, and not exhibit lightness of judgment or credulity, which “can be seen as a desire, as if vain, for supernatural revelations and miraculous events in relation to oneself.” 70 Positive virtues also count: “In the testing of spirits, no one doubts that the quality of desire and zeal for God and justice must be examined.” 71 However, Langenstein warns, this zeal must be modified by discretion (discretio). 72 Most of De discretione is spent describing and castigating those who behave without adequate discretio. It is difficult to say what Langenstein might have read, but these portrayals strongly resemble those of Suso, Tauler, Ruusbroec, and others in describing “false mystics” and “Free Spirits” in the Rhineland. 73 Indiscreet individuals make themselves physically weak through excess austerity, or they go too far in the other direction and sink into carnal and worldly pleasures. They become spiritually exorbitant, lacking prudence, seeking fame, justifying themselves, and Ibid., 114: “Cum ergo de visionibus alicuius aut miraculis dubitatur, an a spiritu bono sint, considerandum est, quem statum aut gradum in ecclesiastica hierarchia habeat vel habuerit, utpote, si praelatus sit, si praeses sit, si auctoritate ecclesiae doctor sit, si legitime ab ecclesia vel singulariter a deo missus sit ad faciendum ea, de quibus se intromittit. Et tenetur ille docere de sua missione vel per litteras authenticas, vel miraculis evidentibus vel prophetiarum suarum crebris eventibus.” (This formulation probably owes something to Cum ex iniuncto; cf. Chapter Two.) 70 Ibid., 60: “Qui igitur in talibus levis inveniretur esse credulitatis, videtur esse quasi vane cupidus supernaturalium revelationum et circa se miraculosarum motionum.” 71 Ibid., 114: “ad probationem spiritus qualitas desiderii et zeli pro deo et iustitia examinanda nemo dubitat.” 72 Ibid., 114–6. Langenstein offers Daniel and Simon as biblical examples of this combination. 73 Cf. Chapter Three. Of the figures mentioned in Chapter Three, Langenstein’s treatment of indiscretio is most like that of Suso, with its emphasis on reason and detachment. His scheme for classifying “spirits” is closer to that of Henry of Friemar or perhaps the Buch-author, but Hohmann, Heinrichs von Langenstein, 34, insists that Langenstein could not have read Henry of Friemar’s De quattuor instinctibus. Of course, many similarities can be traced to the works’ common sources in Bernard of Clairvaux (cf. Chapter One) and other monastic theologians. 69

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condemning others. They neglect good works, foster discord, and are clearly afflicted with pride. 74 They believe themselves to have reached “such a state of liberty” that they are constantly rapt in seeming ecstasy. 75 Some even “believe that because of their life they are inspired in everything by God and are not permitted to err.” 76 However, Langenstein is particularly concerned with the irrationality: the false prophet lacks ratio as well as discretio. “If a man proceeds fatuously, irrationally, and indiscreetly, he is especially odious to God, since this is most repugnant to the condition of man, whom God gave reason sufficient to learn human and divine doctrine. And therefore those trying to live spiritually and abstractly should beware of sinning in this fashion.” 77 These qualities of irrationality and indiscretion now have a clear purpose in testing spirits: those who want special revelations, miracles, or even spiritual sweetness during contemplation or Mass are yielding to the temptations of the fiend, and an angry God will allow the devil to send fantastic visions and foolish delights to these and their fellows “who desire to become prophets without incurring a debt.” 78 In connection with the desire for prophecy, Langenstein particularly mentions “abbot Joachim, who with many expositions of holy Scripture, invented and thought out by himself, depended on this and was moved to predictions of the future.” 79 Langenstein, De discretione, in Hohmann, Heinrichs von Langenstein, 66–72. Ibid., 110: “statum tantae libertatis.” (Langenstein also describes these individuals as in excessu mentis and notes that ecstasy is not a very reliable sign of divine inspiration.) 76 Ibid., 72: “Alii credunt, quod propter vitam suam in omnibus a deo inspirentur et non permittantur errare.” Cf. the discussion of Ad nostrum in Chapter Three. 77 Langenstein, De discretione, in Hohmann, Heinrichs von Langenstein, 68: “Quia hominem fatue, irrationabiliter et indiscrete procedere est deo valde odibile; cum hoc sit maxime repugnans conditioni hominis, cui deus dedit rationem et eum sufficienter erudivit doctrinis humanis et divinis. Et ergo spiritualiter et abstracte vivere conantibus valde cavendum est peccatum ex hac parte.” 78 Ibid., 72: “qui indebite cupierunt esse vates.” It is not clear what debitum Langenstein might have had in mind, although a continual life of moderation, discretion, prayer, and good works seems like a safe bet. However, as Elliot, Proving Woman, 259, notes on this passage, “The demand for spiritual rewards, tantamount to testing God, constitutes a perilous form of spiritual pride.” 79 Ibid., 76: “Alii sunt, ut abbas Joachim, qui plurimum expositionibus sacrae scripturae, a seipso inventis et excogitatis, innituntur et moventur ex hoc ad praedicendum futura.” The complexity of Langenstein’s views on Joachim is discussed below, but here Joachim is clearly a negative example, so it is surprising that Caciola, Discerning Spirits, 298–9, insists that “one cannot avoid the conclusion that this author’s rejection of immoderate asceticism as manifested in fasts, laments, and extended vigils, his dismissal of constant visions, and his ridiculing of reports of continual demonic attack were crafted with women predominantly in mind.” 74 75

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In De discretione, then, indiscretio and irratio are indisputable indicators of diabolic deception and false prophecy because they both encourage deception and lead to ungodly behavior in and of themselves. By the same token, discretio is a powerful indication of true supernatural inspiration, and Langenstein reproduces Cassian’s paeans to the virtue (erroneously attributing them to Cyprian) at the end of his treatise. 80 Another strongly positive sign is some form of ecclesiastical authority. Yet the visionary himself or herself is decisively unable to prove (or, often, to accurately identify) the origin of potentially supernatural experiences. Instead, this determination – discretio or probatio spirituum – is the task of theologians. Like d’Ailly, Langenstein thinks highly of theological training, classing “doctors by the authority of the Church” with bishops and prelates in his list of influential people who might be likely candidates for divine revelations. 81 Moreover, as Langenstein points out, God not only speaks to humans through direct inspiration or prophetically, he also encourages rational thought. 82 Given Langenstein’s emphasis on ratio and cogitatio as well as status as important factors in identifying “spirits,” it seems clear that theologians are obvious candidates for this task. One frequently gets the sense from Langenstein (again, like d’Ailly) that prophets are the doctores’ competition, especially in light of the intensifying crisis of the Schism. De discretione complains about the prophetic use of “similitudes or figures and persuasions or examples taken from Scripture in order to try to say something new and grand, and everyone believes it to be well and legitimately done.” 83 This impression is confirmed years later in Langenstein’s Invectiva, a treatise directed against the Schism-related prophecies of the pseudonymous Telesphorus of Cosenza and written in 1392 from Langenstein’s new post at the University of Vienna, where he would serve as rector from 1393 until his death in 1397. 84 In 1392, however, he identifies himself, tellingly, as “a certain smallest one called professor of sacred theology.” 85 In this role, he immeLangenstein, De discretione, in Hohmann, Heinrichs von Langenstein, 120–2. Cf. supra. 82 Langenstein, De discretione, in Hohmann, Heinrichs von Langenstein, 82–4. 83 Ibid., 76: “similitudinibus vel figuris aut persuasionibus aut exemplis sumptis ex scripturis ad attemptandum vel dicendum nova et grandia, et omnia credunt bene et licite facta.” 84 The Invectiva or Liber contra vaticinia Telesphori was printed in H. Pez, Thesaurus anecdotorum novissimis (Augsburg, 1721), 1:2:505–64. It is treated in Reeves, Influence, 425–7, and in Vauchez, “Les théologiens,” 201–5. The Libellus de causis of “Telesphorus” was actually a compilation of earlier prophetic texts (including both Joachim and pseudo-Joachim) edited to refer specifically to the Schism. 85 Invectiva, 508: “quidam minimus sacrae Theologiae vocatus Professor.” 80 81

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diately warns his reader to “beware of false prophets, since these are evil days, [with] the end of ages threatening,” and goes on to explain in some detail that God has turned away from the world because of the great sin of the Schism. 86 In particular, he complains about people who identify themselves as prophets but are merely diviners and about those who claim to interpret Scripture prophetically. Not only are their books treasured and richly bound, but “certain foolish diviners are more believed than sound doctors.” 87 Langenstein is willing to accept that there have been true prophets throughout the history of the Church, including Hildegard and Arnald of Villanova, but Joachim in particular is depicted as a theologian manqué, “of no reputation in the Paris schools,” teaching interpretations taken from Ovid and other Latin poets while foolishly claiming a level of inspiration higher than that of the apostles! 88 Langenstein likewise suspects Telesphorus of “predicting” events which have already happened and mustering legions of “obscure poets, Sibyls, oracles, prophets, and the patterns of the stars” in an effort to prove his teachings about the apocalypse. 89 And, after all, if prophets such as Joachim, Cyril, and Merlin were truly sent by God, “how has this remained hidden for so long from the Church and the holy doctors?” 90 The Invectiva is not really a discernment treatise, although Langenstein does cite 2 Cor. 11:14 and 1 John 4:1 before recommending that spirits be tested by “the teaching of the heavenly Teacher, who said, ‘By their fruits you shall know them.’” 91 In this work Langenstein provides no further details about this procedure except to suggest that prophecies should perhaps be measured against their accuracy in dealing with the Schism, since even holy people can be deceived by what they think is divine inspiration. Here Langenstein mentions “a certain French monk named Wilhelm of the monastery of Eberbach,” whose visions predicted that the Schism would end after a few months. 92 Perhaps Langenstein avoided going into detail about the process of discretio spirituum in the Invectiva 86 Ibid (and 508ff. for Schism references): “attendere a falsis prophetis, quoniam dies mali sunt, finem minantes seculorum.” 87 Ibid., 513: “plus creditur vanis quibusdam divinatoribus, quam sanis doctoribus.” 88 Ibid, 521–2, with the quote on 521: “Parisiensis schola non ignorat.” (As Langenstein’s own works indicate, this is not precisely a true statement.) 89 Invectiva, 527: “obscuris Poetarum, Sibyllarum, Vatum, Prophetarum, et in dispositionibus siderum.” 90 Ibid., 521: “quomodo latuit hoc tam diu Ecclesiam et sanctos doctores?” 91 Ibid., 516–7: “Sed quaerens: quomodo probabimus eos? Ubi attende doctrinem coelestis Magistri, qui ait, ‘Ex fructibus eorum cognoscetis eis’” [Matt. 7:16]. 92 Ibid., 516: “monachus quidam gallicus, nomine Wilhelmus, Ebirbacencis monasterii.”

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because he remembered that he had treated it in depth at Eberbach; at any rate, the hapless Wilhelm and the more dangerous Joachim and Telesphorus are refuted at length by Langenstein’s own scripturally based account of how the Schism would in fact last until Antichrist manifested himself. 93 Langenstein does not seem to have been a militant anti-Joachite at any point – the 1383 Epistola de schismate distinguishes Joachim from false prophets, and a 1390 Ascension Day sermon praises Joachim’s efforts to predict the Last Things from Scripture 94 – but the Invectiva shows that he was especially uncomfortable with the quasi-doctoral status accorded to Joachim and his prophetic ilk. If the university was to remain a bulwark of authority and sanity during the great crisis of the Schism, Langenstein argued, then university-trained doctores must strongly assert their right of judgment over prophets and diviners past and present. They were needed now more than ever. After all, lightness of judgment and credulity came straight from the devil, who was – Langenstein believed – amassing greater earthly power with each year the Schism continued. 95

The Development of Discernment Both d’Ailly’s and Langenstein’s legacies were carried forward by their mutual pupil, Jean Gerson (1363–1429). 96 Even more than d’Ailly’s, Gerson’s early career was accelerated by the Schism: the eldest son of a lower-middle-class family, he arrived in Paris in 1377 as a scholarship student at the College of Navarre, where Henry of Langenstein was among his earliest teachers and Pierre d’Ailly was the college’s rector. Within a few years, the Paris faculties were torn apart by the Schism, and political unrest dominated the city, but Gerson throve in this uncertain environment. He seems to have been distinguished by his excellent study habits, his Perhaps tellingly, Langenstein himself was posthumously credited with authoring the so-called “Auffahrtabend” prophecy about the Schism, which was probably compiled by someone in his circle at Vienna. Cf. Jennifer Kolpacoff Deane, “The Auffahrtabend Prophecy and Henry of Langenstein: German Adaptation and Transmission of the Visio Fratris Johannis,” Viator 40 (2009): 355–86. 94 Cf. Reeves, Influence, 425–6. 95 Cf. Langenstein, De discretione spirituum, in Hohmann, Heinrichs von Langenstein, 60, for references to levitas iudicii and credulitas coming from the devil. 96 The following information is taken from the definitive modern biography of Gerson, Brian Patrick McGuire’s Jean Gerson and the Last Medieval Reformation (University Park, PA: Pennsylvania State University Press, 2005). The most recent edition of Gerson’s voluminous works is Glorieux’s ten-volume Oeuvres complètes de Jean Gerson (Paris: Desclée, 1960), cited simply as “Glorieux” throughout the following chapters, but some separate treatises have been edited more recently. 93

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ability at preaching, and his distrust of innovation – all of which were to serve him in good stead later in life. He also demonstrated an early talent for university politics, receiving various student honors, and addressing both the royal court and his college on crucial issues. When d’Ailly was elevated to the bishopric of Puy, he arranged for his protégé Gerson to succeed him as chancellor of the university in 1395. The new chancellor was only thirty-two years old and only a few years into his magistracy, but here his career ended: Gerson would hold this position in one form or another until his death more than thirty years later. During the early years of his chancellorship, he moved back and forth between the pressures of ecclesiastical and royal politics in Paris and the devotional and pastoral responsibilities of his benefice at the church of St. Donatian in Bruges; in fact, Gerson spent a full fifteen months in Bruges in 1399 and 1400, working to reform the canons of St. Donatian and writing pastoral tracts aimed at the laypeople of Bruges. He even attempted to resign his chancellorship before concluding that he could do more good in his Parisian and public role. 97 From this point forward, Gerson’s agenda was unequivocally one of reform on all fronts: he revamped the University of Paris, preached regularly to both the court and the people of Paris, worked to foster devotion to St. Joseph, and joined in various efforts to resolve the Schism. He also wrote numerous polemical tracts on the pressing questions of his day (he was against astrology and the Roman de la Rose, but favored the Carthusians and the Immaculate Conception) along with a series of treatises on both speculative and practical mystical theology. By 1407 he had joined the conciliarist party, but missed the Council of Pisa while navigating the increasingly dangerous shoals of court politics (he came out against assassination, alienating his erstwhile patron the Duke of Burgundy). In the years after Pisa, the now three-way Schism persisted while a civil war erupted in Paris, at one point forcing Gerson to flee into the vaults of Notre Dame for safety. Fortunately for the chancellor, the city’s turmoil subsided in time for him to travel to the much-anticipated Council of Constance in 1414 as the leader of the French delegation. At Constance, Gerson continued to lead through sermons and writings for the council, but when it ended in 1418 he was unable to return to Paris because the Burgundians and their English allies had taken control of the city. Instead, the titular chancellor of the University of Paris traveled through Germany and Austria, then returned to southern France to live among partisans of the Dauphin in Lyons, responding to political, theological, and spiritual questions from across Europe during his final years. 97

Cf. McGuire, Jean Gerson and the Last Medieval Reformation, esp. 110–15.

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Gerson’s library, which he left to the Celestine Order in Lyons, was destroyed in the sixteenth century. 98 However, his voluminous works allow us to reconstruct many of his favorite sources. Gerson deplored theological innovation at the expense of the Church Fathers and exhibited an interest in and reliance on twelfth-century theology characteristic of his age. However, he also employed terminology and concepts which marked him as a thoroughly “modern” nominalist while advocating a reform program which prominently featured mystical theology. 99 In fact, Gerson was often more innovative than his own rhetoric would allow him to admit, writing prose and poetry in both French and Latin on a wide variety of scholastic, spiritual, political, and pastoral topics. 100 He was the subject of a budding cult in the fifteenth and early sixteenth centuries (the council of Trent praised him as a “holy man”), but as recently as 1959, the Benedictine scholar Paschal Boland felt compelled to begin his monograph on Gerson by arguing that the “two blights against his orthodoxy – Nominalism and Conciliarism … do not militate against the orthodoxy of these two treatises upon which we have done our study.” 101 The twentieth-century resurgence in medieval studies and the concomitant reassessment of medieval religion and spirituality have made Gerson much better known; many scholars used him as a political and devotional spokesperson for his era, 102 while the past decade has seen a real renaissance in Gersonian studies focusing on Gerson’s writings in mysticism and speculative theology, his theological

Cf. Gilbert Ouy, “La Bibliothèque perdue du Chancelier Gerson,” Bulletin d’information de l’Association des Bibliothécaires français 16 (1955): 204–13. 99 On these topics, cf., respectively, Giles Constable, “Twelfth-Century Spirituality and the Late Middle Ages,” Medieval and Renaissance Studies, ed. O.B. Hardison (Chapel Hill, NC: University of North Carolina University Press, 1971), 27–60; Heiko Oberman, The Harvest of Late Medieval Theology: Gabriel Biel and Late Medieval Nominalism (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 1963); and Alois Haas, “Schools of Late Medieval Mysticism,” in Raitt et al., Christian Spirituality II: High Middle Ages and Reformation, 170–1. As Haas points out, “Gerson was an Ockhamist to a greater degree than d’Ailly. He did not try to destroy the nominalist system; rather, he attempted to join it to a schema of mystical theology” (170). 100 On Gerson’s attitude toward his own writings, cf. Daniel Hobbins’ excellent Authorship and Publicity Before Print: Jean Gerson and the Transformation of Medieval Learning (Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press, 2009), esp. chp. 2. 101 Paschal Boland, The Concept of Discretio Spirituum, ix. Gerson’s historiographical reputation as a particularly radical conciliarist came in part from the misattribution of several strongly conciliarist treatises to him; recent treatments have shown the extent to which Gerson came to conciliarism relatively late in his career. 102 Most famously, throughout Johan Huizinga’s classic The Autumn of the Middle Ages, trans. Payton and Mammitzsich (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1996). 98

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innovation, his role in the development of fifteenth-century humanism, and his contribution to the doctrine of discernment of spirits. 103 Gerson’s earliest surviving work on issues relating to discretio spirituum appears in the 1392 collation Factum est, written along with a sermon on the same verse for the September 29 feast of St. Michael the Archangel. Although both works are preserved in Latin, they were probably delivered in French before King Charles VI and his courtiers at the royal chapel of Saint Paul; the accompanying sermon urged the princes and prelates of France to seek an end to the Schism through the most peaceful means possible. 104 As this assignment suggests, Gerson was already renowned as a preacher, but throughout both sermon and collation he offers a series of rhetorical tropes of humility, even characterizing his own work as “dry and feeble.” 105 Factum est, then, must be placed in the context of Gerson’s role as a scholastic theologian-in-training (he had yet to receive his licentiate) as well as in the context of his ecclesiastical and political commitments. 106 Indeed, Gerson’s discernment discussion in the collation may remind contemporary scholars of a typical dissertation: it shows strong influence from his teachers (especially d’Ailly), demonstrates fluency in current theory (in this case, nominalism and the moderni), and subordinates a relatively weak (or at least conservative) argument to a display of broad knowledge on his chosen topic, complete with copious citations. The central topic of the collation Factum est is the role which angels play in human life, and Gerson explains that angels communicate with men through inner fantasies or dreams, sensory perceptions, or intellective apprehension (the last two categories taken, of course, from Augustine). Toward the end of the work, however, Gerson develops a warning against confusing angelic with demonic influence. Although demons can transform themselves into the semblance of angels, Gerson emphasizes that the effects they produce are different. He offers the familiar Antonine explanation that demons initially proffer “consolations and peacefulness” and later move to horrific disturbances, while angelic visitations begin 103 Overviews of recent Gerson scholarship on many of these topics can be found in the collection A Companion to Jean Gerson, ed. Brian Patrick McGuire (Leiden: Brill, 2006), as well as in the recent McGuire and Hobbins volumes on Gerson cited supra. 104 The text around which the collation (and related sermon) is based is “Factum est proelium magnum in coelo; Michael et angeli ejus praeliabantur cum dracone” [Rev. 12:7]. The collation is in Glorieux, 5:309–24. Cf. McGuire, Jean Gerson, 58ff., for the sermon’s setting. 105 Gerson, Collation Factum est, in Glorieux, 5:323: “Accepimus igitur, reverendi patres, quamquam arido jejunoque sermone.” 106 McGuire, Jean Gerson, 55, concludes that Gerson received the licentiate in theology in December of 1392.

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with horror (“not of abomination but of vehement admiration, reverence, and amazement”) and end with consolations and even ecstatic out-of-body experiences. 107 That said, Gerson admits that it is particularly difficult to identify revelations as divine rather than demonic when they seem to go against nature, as was the case with God’s command to Abraham that he sacrifice his son Isaac (Gen. 22:2). For these cases, Gerson suggests two linked pairs of conditions for “marking out the truth of prophecies”: on the one hand, true prophecies do not announce anything that does not come to pass “in the way in which [God] or the Holy Spirit intended.” 108 If they are not literally fulfilled, the discrepancy must be explained by a revelation from the Spirit explaining their conditional, mystical, or literal fulfillment (Gerson’s examples here, following Nicholas of Lyra, are Jonah and Isaiah). 109 On the other hand, true prophecies do not contain anything contrary to “good morals or sincere faith,” and if they seem to move away from good morals God must intervene “so that the one receiving the revelation may not doubt it” (the example is that of Abraham being commanded to sacrifice his son). 110 Not content with citing Antony, Augustine, and Nicholas of Lyra, Gerson’s description of demonic influence brings examples from the Desert Fathers tradition and even a mention of Origen. 111 This wide range of sources becomes even more apparent as Gerson explains that the situation of an apparently immoral revelation calls for its subject to “‘test whether the spirits come from God’…. And in this case a man should have the distinction of spirits … or [should] do what it is within him to do, praying and setting himself in order; and so the God of truth will not allow him to fall into pernicious error.” 112 The phrase “to do Gerson, Collation Factum est, in Glorieux 5:316: “Daemones in principio … consolationem et placiditatem quamdam animabus ingerunt, sed tandem eas relinquunt desolatas et prae contrarietate ac inimicitia sua patefactas ita ut horror quidam et deforis turbatio in facie et oculis perpetuo remaneat. E contrario angeli boni quemdam ab initio horrorem ingerunt, non abominationis sed vehementis admirationis, reverentiae et stuporis … in fine autem consolatas eas linquunt ac mira suavitate et placiditate refectas adeo ut eas quadam naturali inclinatione ad se trahant, et fiat extasis sive raptus et quaedam corporis derelictio.” Cf. Chapter One on the Vita Antonii, where this distinction originated. 108 Ibid., 5:318: “quatuor assigno verarum prophetiarum conditiones….in sensu quem ipsi vel Spiritus Sanctus intendebant.” 109 On Nicholas and his position on unfulfilled prophecy, cf. Chapter Two. 110 Ibid., 5:319: “bonis moribus aut sincerae fidei….quod de ea revelationem accipienti dubitari non liceat.” 111 Ibid., 5:320–1. On Origen and the Desert Fathers, cf. Chapter One. 112 Ibid., 5:319: “‘Probate spiritus si ex Deo sunt’ …. Et in hoc casu debet homo habere distinctionem spirituum … vel facere quod in se est, orando et se disponendo; et ita non permittet illum veritatis Deus in perniciosum errorem prolabi.” 107

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what it is within oneself to do” (facere quod in se est), originally from Ambrosiaster, is a well-known hallmark of theological nominalism, and Gerson offers an unusual citation for this interpretation of 1 John 4:1: the Sentences commentary of Robert Holcot, a fourteenth-century English Dominican and Ockhamist. 113 So far, Gerson’s collation displays more erudition than originality. At this point, however, the young Gerson breaks from his sources, all of which seem to indicate great confidence in a prophet’s ability to test his own spirits with God’s help, and begins to sound very much like his teachers d’Ailly and Langenstein. “All miracles and all revelations should be suspected, not believed easily, where they appear to contradict faith or good morals,” Gerson asserts. 114 As if this were not enough, he puts the whole debate in the context of canonization and points out the need to examine morals and doctrine as well as supernatural gifts such as prophecies and miracles during the canonization process. For canonization, he points out, the determinations of learned theologians are essential, and Gerson even extends this principle to suggest that “from this it can again be determined that miracles and revelations may or may not have value for declaring someone to have a right to the papacy. But it will suffice to touch on these issues.” 115 Even without this diplomatically phrased reminder of the dual papacy and the canonization challenges that appeared in its wake (Birgitta of Sweden having been canonized by the Roman Pope the year before), these final parts of Factum est clearly belong to the first generation of discernment treatises that appeared in the early years of the Schism. Especially when papal authority is insecure, Gerson suggests, the assessment of revelations is a job for “learned theologians.” This recourse to theological expertise unites him with Langenstein and d’Ailly. But this particular learned theologian also seems to be struggling to synthesize Holcot’s Quaestiones super IV libros Sententiarum is available edited by Josse Badius (Lugduni: J. Cleyn, 1510) as well as in a 1497 printing. Holcot’s wording probably explains the unusual phrase distinctionem spirituum instead of discretionem spirituum. Elliott, Proving Woman, 239–244, points out parallels between Holcot and Gerson’s later uncertainty about discernment. In Factum est, Gerson also cites Holcot’s contemporary Thomas Bradwardine and the Parisian master Nicole Oresme (Glorieux, 5:312) as well as Duns Scotus (Glorieux, 5:317), demonstrating a mastery of fourteenthcentury sources that recedes from sight in his later discernment works, where outright citations tend to be restricted to patristic authorities. 114 Gerson, Factum est, in Glorieux, 5:319: “omnia miracula omnesque revelationes habendas esse suspectas nec credenda facile ubi vel credendis vel bonis moribus obviare viderentur.” 115 Ibid.: “Ex his rursus colligi posset quod miracula vel revelationes valere possunt aut non valere ad declarandum aliquem in papatu jus habere. Sed haec tetigisse suffecerit.” 113

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patristic, thirteenth-century, and fourteenth-century sources to an even greater degree than that seen in d’Ailly and Langenstein. Over the course of Factum est, Gerson seems to stumble over the dividing lines between traditions, as his guidelines shift between a focus on prophecy (its truth, its morality) and the prophet (his or her morals or desires) as well as between identifying the visionary or prophet as the person responsible for “distinguishing the spirits” (e.g., Abraham) and assigning that responsibility within the institutional Church (e.g., theologians). It is possible to attribute these inconsistencies to Gerson’s relative youth and inexperience, but the same uneasy union of sources would continue throughout his many later writings on the topics of discernment and discretio spirituum.

Discernment and Historiography Although d’Ailly’s contributions to the topic of discernment were not well publicized, Langenstein and especially Gerson have been recognized as key figures in articulating rules for the discernment of spirits from the fifteenth century up to the present day. In the middle of the twentieth century, Paschal Boland fought off concerns about Gerson’s orthodoxy to write a monograph on Gerson’s first two major discernment treatises “because his writings on this subject are quoted as authoritative, and seemed to indicate that he had made a worthwhile contribution.” 116 However, Boland skipped Gerson’s 1423 De examinatione doctrinarum, insisting that it not only contains “erroneous Conciliarist teachings” but also “adds little to the principles already expounded by Gerson.” 117 This posthumous defense of Gerson led Boland to spend his energy “developing, explaining, or distinguishing Gerson’s doctrine or argumentation on particular points by quoting approved authors who are considered authorities” and demonstrating that Gerson’s “norms, rules, and observations vary little from that of later writers.” 118 Gerson’s originality is not altogether discounted; Boland does point out that Gerson presented “new aspects of discernment” and was “the first to write about this subject ex professo and to formulate norms for the discerning of spirits.” 119 He also contributed an “emphasis … on a rigorous examination of alleged visionaries – not only concerning their spiritual life, but their mental and physical condition.” 120 Boland, The Concept of Discretio Spirituum, ix. Ibid., 19. 118 Ibid. 119 Ibid., 146. 120 Ibid. 116 117

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On the whole, however, Boland prefers to emphasize the uniformity and modern orthodoxy of Gerson’s writings on discernment, often to the point of contradicting Gerson himself. The very different contexts in which De distinctione and De probatione were written enjoy only a few sentences apiece, and Boland’s efforts to draw contemporary pastoral morals from Gerson’s writings bear a closer resemblance to current dogma than to Gerson’s own thought. 121 Despite these weaknesses, Boland’s study continued to be cited for decades (and occasionally still pops up) as the authoritative pronouncement on Gerson’s discernment views by scholars with only a minor interest in Gerson. 122 Boland’s approach has also influenced at least one contemporary theological monograph which seeks to organize Gerson’s ideas on discernment into a single, unified system (albeit one much better informed by Gerson’s own historical context). 123 Ironically, given Boland’s attempted rehabilitation of Gerson, recent studies of medieval female mystics have adopted elements of Boland’s ahistorical and truncated analysis of Gerson’s discernment teachings precisely in order to charge Gerson – not with heresy, but with misogyny. In a provocative article, Jo Ann McNamara argues that Gerson “took the lead in advancing the revived claims of the hierarchy” against female mysticism and that he “and his lifelong friend, Pierre d’Ailly, wrote tracts criticizing the visions of women and other charlatans.” 124 Although McNamara makes more specific arguments from Gerson’s writings (without regard for their respective dates or contexts), her secondary support for both these general claims – the former perhaps more easily supported than So, for example, Boland summarizes: “A final and general conclusion that we have formed from our study and research of this subject is that a priest who by nature, grace and education is well qualified to be a spiritual director of souls could become a proficient judge of the truth or falsity of visions and revelations without having personal mystical experiences if he has made a thorough and complete study of the works of St. John of the Cross and St. Teresa and is familiar with some of the modern writers of spiritual theology” (154). This is no doubt a useful conclusion for Boland’s purposes, but aside from the obvious chronological issues with regard to Sts. John and Teresa, one of Gerson’s overriding concerns was whether “a spiritual director of souls” without “personal mystical experiences” could indeed, judge the visions of others. Cf. Chapter Six. 122 In, for example, William Christian’s Visions and Apparitions in Late Medieval and Renaissance Spain (NJ: Princeton University Press, 1981), 188–204. 123 Cornelius Roth, Discretio Spirituum: Kriterien geistlicher Unterscheidung bei Johannes Gerson (Würzberg: Echter, 2001). Roth offers his own critique of Boland on 26–9. 124 Jo Ann McNamara, “The Rhetoric of Orthodoxy: Clerical Authority and Female Innovation in the Struggle with Heresy,” in Maps of Flesh and Light: The Religious Experience of Medieval Women Mystics, ed. Ulrike Wiethaus (Syracuse, NY: Syracuse University Press, 1993), 24 and 25. 121

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the latter – prominently features Boland. The possibility that Gerson could have changed his position over nearly forty years of pondering discernment questions does not seem to be a consideration. Similarly, Rosalynn Voaden cites brief excerpts from Gerson’s three major discernment treatises (using Boland’s sometimes problematic translations for the first two) in order to support the blanket contention that In addition to its synthesis of previous teaching on discretio spirituum, the main features of interest in Gerson’s writing on the doctrine are his delineation of the role and character of the spiritual director of the visionary, and his recognition of the significance of the individual circumstances of each visionary … [including] the social and economic status of the seer, and his or her gender. 125

This continuing reliance on Boland and hence on a static reading of Gerson is difficult to support on any grounds other than those of proving Gerson’s orthodoxy: for example, a cursory reading of Gerson’s works addressing discernment will reveal that he reversed his judgment of Ermine of Reims’s visions sometime between 1401 and 1423. 126 Given this shift, it seems only reasonable to treat the rest of Gerson’s discernment oeuvre as subject to change over time. More recent scholarship has expanded to include d’Ailly, Langenstein, and occasionally Alfonso Pecha and Henry of Friemar along with Gerson as creators of a scholastic method of discerning spirits which (it is generally argued) was deployed by male clerics against female visionaries. For instance, Dyan Elliott has linked Langenstein, d’Ailly, and Gerson along with Henry of Friemar as “Parisian masters who addressed spiritual discernment,” although she notes that it is Gerson who initiates a “gendering of discourse” and who “was largely responsible for the ‘top-down’ initiative to control female spirituality.” 127 Indeed, Gerson’s ideas are unquestionably dominant in contemporary scholarship on late medieval discernment, as Nancy Caciola points out: “Gerson’s writings have attracted the most attention, and with good reason…. Gerson’s writing style was considerably more colorful than those of Langenstein or d’Ailly.” 128 Relying on selected passages from ahistorically presented selected discernment works of Gerson – along with supporting passages from Langenstein and d’Ailly, who are invoked together with Gerson as if they formed a trinity – Caciola concludes that for all three “the schism was… closely

Voaden, God’s Words, Women’s Voices, 56. In, respectively, the Judicium de vie de Sainte Ermine and De examinatione doctrinarum. Both texts are discussed in detail in Chapter Six. 127 Elliott, Proving Woman, 265 and 266–7. 128 Caciola, Discerning Spirits, 285. 125 126

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linked in these authors’ minds to unregulated feminine prophecy” 129 and that “where Langenstein, d’Ailly, and Gerson succeeded was not in setting forth infallible guidelines for testing spirits, but in setting forth the criteria for testing bodies…. with women singled out for particular attention.” 130 Similarly, Moshe Sluhovsky writes that “what had been implicit in Henry of Langenstein’s treatise [i.e., De discretione], namely, the gendered aspect of the suspicion concerning ecstatic experiences, became explicit in Gerson’s later treatises.” 131 These scholars offer many valuable insights about the discernment treatises of Langenstein, d’Ailly, and Gerson in their respective studies: Sluhovsky makes important points about the extent to which the late medieval discourse on discernment shaped related debates in early modern Catholicism, Caciola places discernment in the context of shifting popular ideas about possession and exorcism, and Elliott links the developing ideas of discernment with parallel advances in inquisitorial procedure and what she terms “inquisitional culture.” Caciola and Elliot also draw muchneeded attention to the prophetic legacy of the Schism as a context for these works. However, all three authors – like McNamara and Voaden – focus their works primarily on the topic of medieval women’s spirituality, and so all references to erring women or even traits that might be primarily associated with women are quoted and discussed, while parallel references to erring men or “male” traits are overlooked as unimportant or irrelevant. Taken together with the (understandable) tendency to compress Gerson’s voluminous writings into a short section of a much longer book, the result is at best an oversimplification of Gerson’s thought – a tendency to work his major treatises into a pastiche testifying to a uniform “ad feminam approach to discernment” 132 – accompanied by a desire to read Langenstein and d’Ailly through Gerson-colored glasses. Only a few attempts have been made to place Gerson’s individual writings on discretio spirituum in some kind of historical context. B.J. Caiger addresses the topic from a purely ecclesiological standpoint, dealing with Gerson’s three major discernment treatises and discovering that, “while the first tract is generally consistent with an ecclesiology that placed its emphasis on the ‘pilgrim’ in need of guidance, the later ones suggest rather a growing concern for the rights of the institutional hierarchy as the Ibid., 291. (As this chapter demonstrates, this is a very difficult argument to make with only Langenstein and d’Ailly under consideration. The accuracy of this assessment of Gerson will be discussed further in Chapter Six.) 130 Ibid., 312. 131 Sluhovsky, Believe Not Every Spirit, 178. 132 Elliot, Proving Woman, 273. 129

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foundation of confidence.” 133 Although Caiger admits that this is a curious move, given Gerson’s biographical movement away from ecclesiastical hierarchy), the only explanation proffered is that “Gerson’s continuing and deepening interest in the via mystica … prompted an increasingly (if never absolutely) rigid support of the institutional structure.” 134 In the end, Caiger concludes, Gerson’s “entire search over many years for a proper understanding of the relationship between the ‘pilgrim’, the institution and ‘truth’ ends in some confusion.” 135 The most valuable thing this article has to offer may be the suggestion that there is indeed something confusing and different about Gerson’s discernment treatises when they are placed in historical and chronological context. Barbara Newman sees a more consistent development in her brief examination of the same three treatises in terms of Gerson’s Mariology: the first “is even-handed with respect to gender” and mentions Mary as a model for discernment, the second more negative about female visionaries and positive about hierarchical authority but still featuring Mary, and the third “a full-scale polemic against female visionaries” focusing intensely on church hierarchy and ignoring Mary. 136 What was inexplicable for Caiger is logical for Newman: Gerson’s hierarchical trajectory in the discernment treatises fits in with his Mariology and his advocacy of the cult of St. Joseph as part of a larger effort “to undermine the authority of female visions… [Gerson] needed to discredit not only the mystics themselves, but the particular brand of Mariology that authorized them.” 137 But Newman’s excellent analysis of a shift in medieval thinking about the Virgin Mary still leaves the reader puzzled as to Gerson’s motivations for an apparently radical shift of opinion during his lifetime. There is still, as Caiger would have it, “some confusion.” Fortunately, there is relatively little confusion about Langenstein, d’Ailly, and even Gerson’s early work in Factum est (which has not typically been treated by scholars writing about Gerson and discernment). It is clear that under the pressure of the Schism, which represented a simultaneous crisis of prophecy and authority, ideas about testing and discerning spirits began to be addressed more systematically than before. Previously, the topic had mostly occupied portions of other works, the B.J. Caiger, “Doctrine and Discipline in the Church of Jean Gerson,” Journal of Ecclesiastical History 41 (1990): 390. (As Caiger notes on 389, “the problem of ascertaining by what means and what authority true teachings may be distinguished from false is fundamental to any ecclesiology.”) 134 Ibid., 390. 135 Ibid., 406. 136 Barbara Newman, God and the Goddesses: Vision, Poetry, and Belief in the Middle Ages (Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press, 2003), 288 and 289. 137 Ibid., 287. 133

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occasional sermon, or perhaps a few chapters in a saint’s life; there had existed a discourse on discernment of spirits, but it was far from unified, and there were no conventions about how it was to be presented. With the advent of the Schism, however, a new genre of scholastic treatises devoted exclusively to the issues of discernment of spirits and false prophecy developed, aimed outside the confines of any single religious community and directed towards the whole of Christendom. Arguing that the right to distinguish between true and false prophets was a prerogative of university-trained theologians, these treatises were deeply concerned with how this prerogative could best be justified. Often, their theologian authors seemed to be putting themselves in the place of – or as antagonists to – prophetic figures. Yet these theologians also recognized how few of the traditional criteria provided sufficient proof for true prophecy, and they all emphasized the difficulty in making any such determinations. Unlike the preSchism visionaries and their Schism-era defenders, Langenstein, d’Ailly, and the young Gerson were not primarily concerned with how to counsel contemporary visionaries (with the possible exception of Wilhelm of Eberbach). Indeed, the difficulty of applying their complicated schemes to the spiritual direction of any given individual does not seem to have troubled them. Their efforts were aimed more at explaining the theory and perhaps the ecclesiology of discernment than at seeking its practical applications. As the Schism wore on, however, and as the struggle to reunify the Church continued, Gerson would begin to see the need for practical as well as theoretical guidance on discretio spirituum. Toward this end, he would attempt again and again to formulate what his teachers had already deemed impossible: a universal doctrine or method for discretio spirituum.

Chapter Six

“Certain Rules and Terms”: Gerson and the Reform of Discernment Gerson the Reformer Brian Patrick McGuire describes Jean Gerson as first and foremost a reformer: “Gerson believed in a reformatio sempervirens, an ever-renewed and self-renewing reform of individual, church, and society.” 1 This devotion to reform crystallized in 1400, when Gerson decided to give up his comfortable position as dean of St. Donatian in Bruges in order to work toward reform on the much greater scale offered by his chancellorship at the University of Paris. Although Gerson’s major reforming goals were an end to the Great Schism and a renewal of moral theology within the university, the problem of assessing visions was also part of his reform agenda both during and after the Schism. It is no coincidence that Gerson returned to the topic so many times throughout his reforming career: with three major works, De distinctione verarum visionum a falsis (1401–2), De probatione spirituum (1415), and De examinatione doctrinarum (1423), and with a host of minor works beginning with the 1392 collation Factum est and ending with the 1429 Super facto puellae written only a few months before his death. As it developed over nearly four decades, Gerson’s work on discernment is unique both in extent and in scope. For Gerson, the topic of discretio spirituum included not only scriptural and patristic sources, scholastic categories, experiential claims, and pastoral considerations, but also the responsibilities of the church hierarchy and the good of Christendom as a whole. His treatises depict constant negotiation among the authority claims of university theologians, anti-Free-Spirit preachers and other spiritual experts, female visionaries and their confessors, the ecclesiastical hierarchy, the Bible, and the examples of Church Fathers. What unites this body of work is, above all, the conviction that a proper understanding of revelations and their sources is intrinsic to the successful reform of “individual, church, and society.”

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McGuire, Jean Gerson and the Last Medieval Reformation, 352.

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When Gerson finally returned from Bruges for the last time, in September 1400, he had already begun to draw up proposals for the reform of the University of Paris, arguing that its students should learn not only conventional scholastic theology but also moral theology and the art of preaching. 2 He returned to a receptive university but a popeless Paris: King Charles VI and his court had decided to subtract obedience from the Avignon papacy beginning in 1398 and lasting until 1403. During the 1390s, visionaries such as Marie Robine, Ursulina of Parma, Jean de Varennes, and Ermine de Reims had weighed in on the protracted and anguished decision-making process that led up to this decision. 3 Not surprisingly, Gerson found that the situation called for, among other things, a new focus on the truth or falsehood of visions and revelations. By his own testimony, he was especially fascinated by the case of Ermine (d. 1396), a visionary widow who had struggled against demonic attacks and was now being proposed for canonization by her supporters. 4 One supporter, Jean Morel of the abbey of Saint-Denis at Reims, forwarded the vita to Gerson and asked his opinion; his reply, known as the Judicium de vie de Sainte Ermine, is dated to late 1401 or early 1402. 5 Gerson’s verdict submits the issue to the papacy and to “the wisdom of all who know better,” but is cautiously positive: the account of Ermine’s visions, life, and death “violates the truth of faith in no way; rather it corroborates and glorifies it.” 6 In her battles against demons, Gerson wrote, Ermine had been assisted by three virtues: her “profound and true humility” (Gerson compares it to Antony’s); her “firm and living faith”; and her “prudent Gerson’s projects for reforming the University of Paris in 1400–1 are outlined in McGuire, Jean Gerson and the Last Medieval Reformation, 120–4. 3 As discussed in Blumenfeld-Kosinski, Poets, Saints, and Visionaries, 81–93. 4 Ermine’s case has most recently been treated in Blumenfeld-Kosinski, “The Strange Case of Ermine de Reims (c. 1347–1396): A Medieval Woman between Demons and Saints,” Speculum 85 (2010): 321–56. The critical edition of Ermine’s vita is Claude Arnaud-Gillet ed. and trans., Entre Dieu et Satan: Les visions d’Ermine de Reims (+1396) recueillies et transcrites par Jean Le Graveur (Florence: SISMEL/Edizioni del Galluzzo, 1997). An earlier but still interesting treatment is Françoise Bonney, “Jugement de Gerson sur deux expériences de la vie mystique de son èpoque: Les visions d’Ermine et de Jeanne d’Arc,” Actes du 95 e Congrès national des Sociétés savants, Reims, 1970. Philologie et Histoire II: Champagne et Pays de Meuse. Paris, 1975: 187– 95. Gerson’s testimony that he was thinking about Ermine during this period comes from his 1423 treatise De examinatione doctrinarum (discussed in detail below); the reference is in Glorieux, 9:474. 5 Cf. Arnaud-Gillet, Entre Dieu, 21–4, on dating the Judicium. It appears in Glorieux, 2:93–6 but has more recently been edited in Arnaud-Gillet, Entre Dieu, 171–3. 6 Gerson, Judicium de vie de Sainte Ermine, in Arnaud-Gillet, Entre Dieu, 171–2: “omnium melius sententium …veritas praecipue fidei nulla inde violatur, immo potius corroboratur et honoratur.” 2

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simplicity,” which caused her to seek advice at every turn and so remain immune to demonic blandishments. 7 Nevertheless, Gerson notes that Ermine’s experiences demonstrate “how shrewd is the iniquity of demons … how full of fury and cleverness they are in seducing people, at one time with terror, at another with allurements, and again with a thousand kinds of false miracles.” 8 In view of this, Gerson urges Morel to restrict the book’s circulation to “those who are well-ordered in their way of life and concerned with their own salvation,” citing “the limited learning of many” and their “obstinate unbelief.” 9 Perhaps Ermine’s case played into the series of lectures on the Gospel of Mark which Gerson delivered to his university in November or December of 1401: one of them, taking off from Mark 1:4 (“John was baptizing in the desert”), expanded on an earlier discussion of John’s prophetic status and delved into the pastoral issues raised by contemporary prophets. 10 Also in December 1401, Gerson penned De non esu carnium apud Carthusienses, a treatise on religious life which addresses the novice’s need for monastic discretion, noting that an indiscreet novice who walks among miracles, receives revelations and portents in dreams or fantasies, or sees visions of angels “is close to running down from that mountain which the angel climbs and the devil descends.” 11 His religious advisor (rector religionum) must then demonstrate “pious discretion and discreet piety” in order to calm the excitable novice without pushing him too far into dullness or foolishness. However, Gerson writes, “advancing [this] work is full of difficulty, laden with perils and many cares; but it is worthy of great and high praise; nor will the balm of the Spirit, which teaches all things gently, Ibid., 173: “humilitas profunda et vera,” “fides firma et viva,” and “prudens simplicitas.” These virtues will reappear in De distinctione (cf. infra). 8 Ibid., 173: “quanta est versuta malignitas demonum… quantus furor et astutia ad seducendos homines nunc terroribus, nunc blanditiis, nunc mille fallacium miraculorum artibus….” On Ermine’s miracles, Gerson also pointed out that it would indeed be impressive if a “mulier idiota et rusticana tot et talia scivisset confingere” (172). 9 Ibid.: “apud bene compositos et sollicitos de salute sua … parvam eruditionem multorum … obstinantam quorumdam incredulitatem.” 10 That is, De Ioannis prophetia, in Glorieux, 3:109–13. (The original Mark 1:4 lecture is no longer extant, but it probably drew on the Vita Antonii passage juxtaposing the verse with this theme, as do Tauler’s Sermons 43 and 44.) On Gerson’s concept of pastoral theology in general and the Mark lectures in particular, cf. Christoph Burger, Aedificatio, Fructus, Utilitas: Johannes Gerson als Professor der Theologie und Kanzler der Universität Paris (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 1986), esp. 24–36. 11 Gerson De non esu carnium apud Carthusienses, in Glorieux, 3:95: “proximus est corruere e monte illo ad quem angelus ascendit et descendit diabolus.” (Similar advice appears in the French La montagne de contemplation which Gerson addressed to his sisters. suggesting that this concern was not exclusively monastic.) 7

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fail those who devoutly pray for it.” 12 He concludes that “indiscreet solitude” is particularly dangerous for novices and that “it is fittingly found [to be] otherwise among well-instructed religious.” 13 The final paragraph of De non esu includes an apology for not continuing on the theme of indiscretio, but perhaps Gerson was writing the Mark lectures at the same time. In any event, he combined the two concepts in a 1402 letter to his brother Nicholas, who had abandoned an academic career to join a Celestine monastery the year before. What Nicholas received was a revised version of the Mark 1:4 lecture, now entitled De distinctione verarum visionum a falsis, but Gerson cautioned Nicholas that its contents were not exclusively monastic in nature: “although this teaching is useful to every Christian, it is judged to be most saving and even necessary for men dedicated to religious life and contemplation, among whom the heavenly Father has chosen you.” 14

Counterfeit Coins and Reforming Theologians Despite its scholastic origins in the lectures on Mark and its putatively monastic context, De distinctione begins from the assumption of a faith under constant siege so familiar to the Schism era: “Just as the true religion is attacked through the sophistical and false arguments of heretics, so lying angels want to infringe on the authority of true miracles and holy revelations by means of sophistry and magicians’ trickery.” 15 Gerson even notes that deception is especially rampant in “this ancient age, this final

Ibid., Glorieux, 3:95: “Opus profecto plenum difficultatis, plenum periculi et multae vigiliae, sed meriti grandis et laudis excelsae; nec deerit pie postulantibus unctio Spiritus quae docet de omnibus.” The allusion is to 1 John 2:27: “et vos unctionem quam accepistis ab eo manet in vobis et non necesse habetis ut aliquis doceat vos sed sicut unctio eius.” The full verse seems to undercut the role of the rector religiosus, but Gerson does not take up this conflict in De non esu. This verse – a favorite of Gerson’s – is also used in a similar connection by Olivi in his Epistola ad fratrem R. (cf. Chapter Two). 13 Gerson, De non esu, in Glorieux, 3:95: “quam periculosa sit indiscretis solitudo… secus in religionibus bene institutis reperitur.” 14 Prefatory letter of Gerson to his brother Nicholas (Letter 11), in Glorieux, 2:49: “Haec doctrina etsi cuilibet christiano utilis est, viris tamen religioni et contemplationi dedicatis, qualem te Pater coelestis elegit, saluberrima, immo necessaria judicatur.” 15 Gerson, De distinctione, in Glorieux, 3:38: “sicut vera religionis assertio per sophisticas et fallaces haereticorum argumentationes impugnatur, sic per mendaces angelos miraculorum verorum sanctorumque revelationem auctoritas, factus quibusdam sophisticis et magorum praestigiis, quaeritur infringi.” 12

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hour, this precursor of Antichrist.” 16 The apocalyptic tone of these passages echoes d’Ailly, whom Gerson follows in his initial statement: “There is not a general rule or method [ars] given always and infallibly for humans to distinguish between true and false or illusory revelations.” 17 But d’Ailly had explained this lack by reference to the “rational cause” and the need for constant struggle against heresy and hypocrisy. Gerson, on the other hand, explains it in terms that are reminiscent of Tauler’s or Suso’s rhetoric against self-interested scholars: no Catholic should need a complete proof for why John’s name was a true revelation to Zachariah because it is “a matter of faith, not knowledge,” and not everyone possesses the same degree of faith. 18 The problem of discerning spirits is therefore not a private but a public one: denial of all recent visionaries will “seem to weaken the authority of divine revelation” and will “scandalize ordinary people [simplices].” 19 And a few spectacular cases of spiritual default in visionaries thought to be divinely inspired can erode lay confidence in the religious life, so that anyone who seeks it will be deemed “a papelard, a beguine, or a beghard.” 20 Perhaps a solution for discretio spirituum would even help end the Schism, Gerson suggests: “the accumulation of the greatest evils which we now experience and suffer from in the schism ultimately stems from this disease of indiscretion, through which no one will permit any assent to advice.” 21 In keeping with the prescriptions of d’Ailly and Langenstein, Gerson first turns to his fellow theologians: Christians must apply the Johannine prescription to “test the spirits” via “a theologian equally skilled in learning [ars] and experience [usus]” who must be neither a worldly troublemaker nor a superstitious dreamer (Gerson offers caricatures of both) but must instead hold to a middle way in both lifestyle and judgment. 22 But Gerson seems much less sanguine than his teachers had been about the Ibid.: “in hoc senio saecula, in hac hora novissima, in praecursore Antichristi.” Ibid: “non est humanitus regula generalis vel ars dabilis ad discernendum semper et infallibiliter quae verae sunt et quae falsae aut illusoriae revelationes.” 18 Ibid.: “De hoc enim fides est, non scientia.” A similar theme appears in a different connection in Gerson’s Contra vanem curiositatem studentem, written in Nov. 1402 after the completion of De distinctione. 19 Ibid.: “Si statim negamus omnia … videbimur infirmare auctoritatem divinae revelationis …. scandalizabimus praeterea simplices.” 20 Ibid., 3:56: “Papelardus, Beguinus et Begardus.” On the term papelard as equated with the beguine movement, cf. Ernest McDonnell, The Beguines and Beghards in Medieval Culture (New Brunswick, NJ: Rutgers University Press, 1954), 472–3. 21 Gerson, De distinctione, in Glorieux, 3:44: “nunc maximorum malorum cumulus quem in schismate patimur et experimur, ab hac indiscretionis peste processerit, nullius acquiescere consilio permittentis.” 22 Ibid.: “theologus arte pariter usuque peritus.” 16 17

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success of this endeavor. He offers many cautionary anecdotes about learned men who fell into or narrowly escaped errors, and he closes De distinctione on a prayer to “Jesus Christ, that same truth who keeps us from error by his merits.” 23 Gerson’s approach diverges even more from d’Ailly’s and Langenstein’s when he tries to explain the theologian’s role in discernment. He advises that theologians act as moneychangers testing the coin of revelation – the simile is taken from Cassian – on the points of humility, discretion, patience, truth, and charity. 24 Truth in particular requires theologians to “especially distinguish between true and false religion and to address morals.” 25 However, whenever revelations seem to go against nature, “the gift which the Apostle calls discernment of spirits [discretionem spirituum] is altogether necessary.” 26 This discretio spirituum not only cannot be explained by a general rule but is “more a matter of experience than a technique and is engaged with meeting particular conditions which are infinite.” 27 In fact, “a person senses a difference between true revelations and deceptive illusions through a certain intimate taste and experiential illumination.” 28 Therefore, no person can judge another’s charity simply on the basis of “his own perception, learning, or efforts.” 29 If it should happen that we are the examiners of the coin of spiritual revelation,” Gerson concludes, “we must cling to God and to his Scrip-

Ibid., 3:56: “Cujus meritis ab omni nos errore custodiat ipsa veritas Christus Jesus qui est benedictus in saecula saeculorum.” Especially interesting in this context is the account on 3:54 of a theologian whose doubt about an article of faith was resolved only by divine illumination; it is often read as an autobiographical note of Gerson’s. 24 Ibid., 3:38–9, and cf. Chapter One on Cassian. 25 Ibid., 3:46.: “moneta revelationionum insolitarum debet a theologis priusquam admittantur examinari, quorum praecipue interest inter veram et falsam religionem, moresque concernens discernere.” 26 Ibid., 3:47: “maxime necessarium est donum quod Apostolus vocat discretionem spirituum.” The scriptural phrase discretionem spirituum represents a change in what is otherwise a passage taken verbatim from Gerson’s earlier Factum est. 27 Ibid., 3:48: “Cur ergo mirabitur aliquis si regula universalis aut doctrina certa et infallibilis nequeat tradi super hac materia, de discretione spirituum, aut de revelationum veritate? Cum ista res plus in experientia et conditionum particularium, quae infinitae sunt, concursi quam in arte versetur.” The examples here are not university theologians but Bernard of Clairvaux, Gregory the Great, and Monica the mother of Augustine. 28 Ibid.: “Agit equidem ut sapore quodam intimo et illuminatione quadam experimentali sentiat homo differentiam inter veras revelationes et deceptorias illusiones.” 29 Ibid., 3:53: “Quamobrem qui in talibus se existimat proprio sensu, arte vel industria discernere, videat ne erreat.” 23

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tures.” 30 The examiner, like St. Paul, may enjoy “certitude indeed, but from God’s light, not only from human investigation and judgment.” 31 There is a growing parallelism between theologians and visionaries in De distinctione. Like the visionary, the theologian attempting to discern spirits must seek an “experiential illumination.” Like the theologian, the potential visionary endowed with discretio must “hold to the middle way,” this time “in following the rules of life instituted by the fathers, not crossing over the boundaries his fathers had set.” 32 And, again very like the theologian, the visionary must consider the public implications of his or her revelations, announcing only those which are “useful for moral instruction, for public affairs, for the honor or increase of worship,” not those “full of empty matter or stories.” 33 Yet theologians are distinct from visionaries insofar as the latter can identify the former as demonically deceived without recourse to the content of revelations: Gerson repeatedly asserts that the visionary’s humility (especially in the face of magisterial advice) is the single best guarantor of the truth of a revelation, and his principle example of this phenomenon is a pious married woman from Arras who fasted excessively and ignored Gerson’s advice to moderate her behavior. 34 Patience, by contrast, is not an especially reliable sign because it can conceal pride: “Obstinance often imitates patience, and some people glory in suffering due to their foolish stubbornness even as their filthy clothing and hair-shirts breed and nourish the most poisonous worm of pride.” 35 Charity, too, can be imitated by empty or carnal love, and holy women are especially susceptible to confusing the two, although Gerson’s examples include both men and women (most notably Marguerite Porete, who erred due to “the great pride of her soul together with passionate

Ibid., 3:55: “Si monetae spiritualium revelationum nos examinatores esse contigerit … adhaereamus Deo et Scripturae ejus.” 31 Ibid., 3:54: “Habetur sane certitudo, sed a divino lumine, non humana solum investigatione aut aestimatione.” 32 Ibid., 3:42: “medio quoquam tenore regulas vivendi sequitur a patribus institutas, nec transgreditur fines quos patres sui posuerunt.” 33 Ibid., 3:41: “sit utilis ad mores, ad rempublicam, ad divini cultus honorem vel augmentum, aut si sit supervacuis rebus seu narrationibus mixta.” Gerson provides examples of appropriately publicized revelations from the Virgin Mary, Saint Paul, and Bernard of Clairvaux. 34 On humility, cf. De distinctione, Glorieux, 3:42 (citing Gregory’s Dialogues) and 3:50, among others; on the woman from Arras, cf. ibid., 3:43. 35 De distinctione, in Glorieux, 3:46: “nam et obstinatio saepe patientiam simulat, et nonnulli ex contumeliarum fatua perpessione gloriantur quemadmodem ipsae etiam sordes vestium et cilicium aliquando superbius vermem mordacissimum generant et nutriunt.” 30

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love” 36), and he concludes with the case of “the beghards and beguines, [who] seem to have erred because of their indiscreet fondness disguised as devotion.” 37 De distinctione, like Gerson’s earlier Factum est, is clearly synthesizing several disparate Christian traditions on discernment, including the patristic/monastic concern with discretio, the Friends of God writing in opposition to Free Spirits, and the Schism-era theologians’ offer of themselves as the logical solution to the Schism’s prophetic problems. But most of these traditions had agreed that it should be possible to distinguish between divine and diabolic visitations somehow, most of the time, under normal circumstances. Gerson, on the other hand, is notably lukewarm about the reliability of several of his signs (especially patience and charity) as well as the moral authority of theologians, who may themselves fall into error. He also follows d’Ailly’s and Langenstein’s principled rejection of a universal method for discerning spirits. Having eliminated virtually all the standard methods of determining the truth or falsehood of a vision from outside, however, Gerson has to come up with a solution, and it seems to be “experience.” He concludes that examiners of visionaries should be not only magisterially educated theologians but should also be experienced in spiritual consolations, and he defines the discernment of spirits itself as an “intimate taste and experiential illumination.” 38 The fascinating thing about Gerson’s mystical turn is the way it undercuts much of the rest of De distinctione. 39 Even as he advises, in the most traditionally Deuteronomistic fashion, that the examiner should “await the outcome [exitum] of events,” 40 he ultimately argues that certitude rests not on the observed behavior of visionaries or the reasoning of theologians but on the grace of God. And this suggests that De distinctione is as much about reforming theologians as it is about reforming visionaries: the lack of a publicly defensible method for testing spirits is attributed mostly to failures of the former, and Gerson would undoubtedly have felt that theologians would 36 Ibid., 3:51–2: “una foemina … quae Maria de Valenciennes dicebatur … sed fallebat eam sua tumiditas animi tantae passioni dilectionis immixta.” McGuire translates tumiditas animi as “intellectual pride.” On the identification of “Maria” with Marguerite Porete, cf. Lerner, Heresy of the Free Spirit, 165–6, and Chapter Three of this work. 37 Gerson, De distinctione, in Glorieux, 3:51: “videntur errasse Begardi et Begardae, ob indiscretam scilicet dilectionem nomine devotionis palliatam.” 38 Cf. supra. 39 The term “interior taste,” which Gerson used in De distinctione, is used as shorthand for various types of mystical experience in his other works; one example is the seventh consideration of the De mystica theologia practica, in Glorieux 8:30. 40 Gerson, De distinctione, in Glorieux 3:56. “non solum explorare convenit quae acta sunt sed exitum expectare.”

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benefit from the emphasis on pastoral interaction and moral teachings which De distinctione recommends. Indeed, it fits precisely into his already-stated program of reform for the University of Paris. Gerson’s emphasis on experience as a criterion for discernment was not unprecedented: Augustine defined his mother’s ability as a “certain smell,” Olivi described an “intimate taste” by which true and false revelations could be distinguished, Henry Suso suggested that discernment of spirits was an internal ability given by God, and both Birgitta of Sweden and Catherine of Siena grounded their own discernment abilities in a specific type of relationship with Christ. 41 But Gerson parts from these examples when he follows Alfonso Pecha, Henry of Langenstein, and Pierre d’Ailly in separating the roles of the visionary and the discerner, and the requirement that the ideal discerner be spiritually experienced as well as magisterially educated is all Gerson’s. That requirement does, however, fit in with other elements of Gerson’s teachings on the proper role of theologians in public life. In a March 1402 letter to the Carthusian Barthélemy Clantier arguing against Ruusbroec’s Die geestelike brulocht, Gerson warned that devout but uneducated people should not be the ones to assess such treatises because they did not have the right type of experience. “In order to determine such questions… it is not enough to live in affectivity and fervor of charity … for even little women and ignorant people who cannot read or write” can enjoy this type of contemplation, Gerson explains. 42 Educated theologians tend toward “another type of contemplation which is concerned with the investigation of divine truths by which the most saving faith…is produced, nourished, defended, and strengthened” 43 and by which its practitioners are best suited to “find the truth of faith as handed over in the Holy Scriptures” (even though theologians can be corrupted by vice and can err from “lack of pious affectivity” or from insufficient learning, and even though unlearned contemplatives may be able to pronounce on faith if “a miracle of revelation” occurs). 44 Ideally, however, “experience is the teacher [doctrix]” of the “wise and perfect theologian,” 45 who enjoys “both types of contemplation, evidently that of affectivity, which gives Cf. Chapters One, Two, Three, and Four, respectively. Gerson, Letter 13, in Glorieux, 2:61: “Ad talium itaque quaestionum determinationem…non sufficit … quae versatur in affectione et fervore caritatis … hanc enim speciem contemplationis adipisci et conscendere fas habent ipsae etiam mulierculae et idiotae sine litteris.” 43 Ibid.: “species altera contemplationis versari ponitur in perscrutatione divinarum veritatum per quas fides saluberrima … gignitur, nutritur, defenditur, roboratur.” 44 Ibid., 2:61–2: “de veritate fidei quaeritur tradita in sacris scripturis…revelationis miraculo…carentia pii affectus.” 45 Ibid., 2:61: “experientia doctrix est … sapiens et perfectus theologus.” 41 42

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taste, and that of intellect, which provides the brightness of knowledge.” 46 If we take this letter together with the contemporary De distinctione, it is clear that a discerner of spirits must indeed possess both types of contemplation: the “brightness of knowledge” together with the “taste.” It is also clear that Gerson’s claim to his brother that De distinctione was aimed at “men devoted to religious life and contemplation” did not in any way eliminate the possibility that it was aimed at theologians. 47 Several of Gerson’s writings in the years following De distinctione show further attempts to address the importance of experience in the process of discernment, which De distinctione had already identified as a question of faith. Gerson’s massive De theologia mystica speculativa, initially written in the winter of 1402–3 and revised over the next two decades, also contains references stressing both the universal availability of mystical theology and the superiority of experience in judging questions of mystical theology; the phrasing is strongly reminiscent of that in the first letter on Ruusbroec. 48 But his second letter on Ruusbroec, in 1408, offers another qualification. He quotes his earlier letter on the potential dangers of both impious theologians and inadequately learned laypeople assessing teachings on contemplation, but most of his excerpt addresses lay errors, and he adds a new contemporary example, “a certain woman who was considered by many to be a prophetess and a maker of miracles, whom I saw and to whom I spoke.” 49 Apparently, this woman had taught and written that her spirit had been annihilated and recreated while contemplating God. According to Gerson, “when she was asked how she could know this, she answered that she had experienced it.” 50 Here the difficulty is reliance on experience to assess one’s own revelations, and Gerson dismisses this as “insanity,” reminiscent of the Beghards and “people who are not so much in love as out of their minds.” 51 He even cites De distincIbid.: “vere sapiens …. utramque contemplationis speciem, illam videlicet affectus quae saporem dat, et illam intellectus quae scientiae luminositatem praestat.” 47 This letter is cited above. 48 Gerson, De theologia mystica speculativa [or De theologia mystica lectiones sex], in Glorieux, 3:250–92; cf. especially the opening section, in which Gerson argues that mystical theology is accessible only by experience (3:253), is above all forms of extrinsic knowledge (3:254), and – given the errors of the Free Spirits – should ideally be judged or corrected by experts learned in both intellective and affective knowledge (3:256–7). Although I have remained with the Glorieux text, there is an excellent critical edition with complete footnotes and commentary by André Combes, Ioannis Carlerii de Gerson de Mystica Theologia (Lugano: Thesaurus Mundi, 1958). 49 Gerson, Letter 26, in Glorieux, 2:102: “quadam quae prophetissa et miraculorum operatrix reputata est a multis, quam et vidi et allocutus sum.” 50 Ibid.: “dum quaeretur qualiter hoc scire potuerat, respondebat se expertam.” 51 Ibid.: “amantium immo et amentium.” 46

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tione in this connection. Gerson was beginning to realize that even the most spiritually experienced theologians could not solve everything, especially when it came to determinedly pious laypeople. 52

Councils, Confessors, and Reforming the Church The problems of lay piety and the reception of potentially false revelations in light of the needs of the institutional Church are taken up again in Gerson’s next work on the subject of discretio spirituum. Once France had resumed obedience to the Avignon papacy, Gerson had rapidly realized that Pope Benedict XIII had no intention of resigning his office for the good of Christendom. Gerson then became a late convert to a conciliar solution to the Schism, which Langenstein and d’Ailly had called for years before. 53 He was unable to attend the abortive Council of Pisa, but he did leave Paris to attend the Council of Constance (1414–8), which finally ended the Schism with the universal acclamation of Pope Martin V and addressed nearly every area of Christian life during its four years of deliberations. 54 Gerson was a prominent figure at Constance: he preached

In Gerson’s Traité des diverses tentations de l’ennemi (1401), written in French and therefore directed at a vernacular audience, the author shows the gap between the expectations of De distinctione, written for a theologically trained readership, and the equivalent advice for laypeople. The Traité devotes one paragraph each to diabolical sensations of sweetness and diabolically inspired desires for “visions of angels or miracles or revelations … in order to inflate pride or to deceive by false words under the semblance of truth” (in Glorieux, 7:348: “visions d’angelz ou miracles ou reuelations… et tout ce pour baillier orgeuil ou pour decepuoir par faulseté dire en samblance de verité”). Gerson then offers a blanket recommendation of humility (citing Antony) and praying for God’s grace. A similar lack of detail appears in the putatively Gersonian treatise De signis bonis et malis (in Glorieux, 9:162–6), which draws on some passages from De distinctione as it offers moral advice to pious laypeople, including the recommendation not to seek too many consolations, and concludes that their experiences should imitate those of Christ. 53 On Gerson’s growing disillusionment with Benedict, cf. McGuire, Jean Gerson and the Last Medieval Reformation, esp. 160–3. 54 The date and context of De probatione spirituum are addressed at length in André Combes, Essai sur la critique de Ruysbroeck par Gerson, 1:297–329. For more general background on Constance, the best modern treatment is Walter Brandmüller, Das Konzil von Konstanz, 1414–1418 (Paderborn: Ferdinand Schöningh, 1991–97). For further details about Gerson’s activities at Constance and his role in the conciliar movement, cf. John Morrall, Gerson and the Great Schism (Manchester: Manchester University Press, 1960), and Taber, “The Theologian and the Schism.” A contrasting view of Gerson’s reform program can be found in Louis Pascoe’s Jean Gerson: Principles of Church 52

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at least ten sermons, served as a member of the committee interrogating the would-be Bohemian reformer Jan Hus, supported the Brethren of the Common Life against the attacks of Matthew Grabon, and advocated against the legitimation of tyrannicide. He made no comment on Birgitta of Sweden’s reaffirmed canonization in February 1415; he may well have been preoccupied with the examination of Hus, who was burned as a heretic on July 6 of the same year. But when the Swedish delegation to the council requested the canonization of individuals whose sanctity rested on Birgitta’s appraisal, Gerson was appointed to the committee of cardinals and theologians tasked with investigating their cases, and he used that position as an opportunity to express misgivings about the entire Birgittine cult in his second major discernment treatise, De probatione spirituum, dated August 8, 1415. 55 Gerson had already dismissed claims that Ruusbroec’s Die geestelike brulocht was divinely inspired, and in De probatione he seems to be responding to the elevation of Birgitta’s Revelaciones to a quasi-scriptural status by some of her devotees. 56 He also must have been familiar with some of the treatises written in support of Birgitta’s canonization several decades earlier: as Eric Colledge has demonstrated, Gerson deliberately borrowed from Alfonso Pecha’s pro-Birgittine Epistola solitarii in order to compose his own anti-Birgittine work in De probatione. 57 But this treatise also fits squarely into the Council of Constance’s program for reform of the institutional Church, and so into Gerson’s linkage of reform with the discernment of spirits. De probatione begins with Scripture, moving from 1 John 4:1 to 1 Cor. 12:10: “To test whether spirits are from God is not given to anyone, but [only] to some, by the Holy Spirit.… Just as not all may prophesy… so not all may test whether spirits are from God, but it is given to spiritual persons. ” 58 There are two new elements here: the stress on the Holy Spirit Reform (Leiden: Brill, 1973). These works, however, do not address Gerson on discretio spirituum. 55 Cf. Anders Fröjmark, “The Canonization Process of Brynolf Algotsson,” in Klaniczay ed., Procès de Canonisation au Moyen Âge, 89–93. The individuals under consideration included Bishop Nicholas Hermanni of Linkoping (d. 1391), an advocate of Birgitta and of her canonization, and Bishop Brynolph of Skara (d. 1317), a previously obscure churchman who had been identified as an unrecognized saint through one of Birgitta’s visions. 56 Cf. Jönsson, Alfonso of Jaén, 27, and Sahlin, Birgitta of Sweden, 207–12. 57 On Birgitta, Alfonso, and the Epistola solitarii, cf. Chapter Four. On the connections between the Epistola and the De probatione, cf. Eric Colledge, “Epistola solitarii ad reges: Alphonse of Pecha as Organizer of Birgittine and Urbanist Propaganda,” Mediaeval Studies 43 (1956): 19–49. 58 Gerson, De probatione, in Glorieux, 9:178: “Probare spiritus si ex Deo sunt, non cuilibet datum est, sed aliquibus per Spiritum sanctum…. Sicut igitur non omnium est

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(a minor player in the Christocentric De distinctione) and the concern with who is authorized to perform this “testing” (Gerson’s earlier works had assumed that theologians would do so). However, familiar material rapidly comes in when Gerson outlines three ways of testing spirits. The first, through “knowledge and general learning, especially through erudition in holy Scripture,” has been the topic of many treatises and will occupy most of his treatise, Gerson explains. 59 This is a rehearsal of the theologyfocused parts of De distinctione, and Gerson (following d’Ailly) still concludes that testing spirits “through a general and infallible rule of knowledge for each particular case” is impossible. The second method of testing spirits, through “an intimate inspiration or an internal taste, or through the experience of a certain sweetness,” can be applied only by those who have themselves experienced spiritual consolations; this too is familiar from De distinctione, but now the theologian’s role is divorced from that of the contemplative. 60 There remains a third option: some situations “require the gift of the Holy Spirit, which the Apostle called discernment of spirits, [and] which … is the third of the aforesaid ways of testing spirits; since the first is doctrinal, the second is experiential, the third evidently [is] official as a result of an office in the hierarchy and the receipt of a spiritual gift.” 61 De distinctione was not terribly concerned with the institutional Church, mentioning only the need for obedience to prelates as a sign of humility, but in De probatione Gerson’s focus on the “hierarchical” combines with an interest in the Holy Spirit to create an option quite different from any envisioned by Gerson’s teachers. The original source for the attribution of spiritual gifts to the hierarchy ex officio is Ambrosiaster, although Gerson could also have read a later source quoting “Ambrose’s” interpretation of the Pauline verse. 62 But it is surely no accident that De probatione was written during a general church council, the other great confluence of prophetare … sic non omnium est probare spiritus si ex Deo sunt, sed quibus datum est, quales sunt spirituales.” Gerson continues this passage by citing a favorite verse, 1 John 2:27, about the teaching abilities of the Spirit; cf. supra. 59 Ibid.: “per modum artis et doctrinae generalis, sicut per eruditionem sacrarum Scripturarum, diligenti pioque studio conquisitam.” 60 Ibid.: “per inspirationem intimam seu internum saporem, sive per experimentalem dulcedinem quamdam.” 61 Ibid: “Probare spiritus, si ex Deo sunt per regulam artis generalem et infallibilem pro quolibet particulari casu, aut non potest aut vix potest humanitus fieri; sed requiritur donum Spiritus sancti; quod Apostolus nominavit discretionem spirituum; quo …. est modus tertius alius a praedictis, probandi spiritus; quoniam primus est doctrinalis, secundus est experimentalis, tertius officialis scilicet ex officio hierarchico atque spirituali dono concessus.” 62 On Ambrosiaster, cf. Chapter One.

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hierarchy and Holy Spirit in the theology of Gerson’s day. De probatione is therefore in some sense a “conciliarist” take on the discernment of spirits, although the respective authorities of pope and council are never at issue. Indeed, Gerson elaborates very little on the “official” aspects of this method, preferring to discuss the gift of the Spirit common to both his second and his third methods. Here he is recycling ideas from his second letter on Ruusbroec: “No one can judge perfectly who is only learned in Holy Scripture and who is not also himself an expert in the battle of many spiritual affects, who has never ascended to the heavens or descended into the abyss and seen the wonder of God in the depths.” 63 In other words, a combination of the first two methods – someone with both magisterial and spiritual experience – is ideal. Failing that, however, when a judgment is sought on “unfamiliar people whose hearts we have neither seen nor examined, it is necessary for us to take signs from their works.” 64 Certainly, no unlettered and unadvised visionary can distinguish for him- or herself between divine, angelic, demonic, and merely human inspiration, Gerson asserts. Such a task will inevitably confound those “who neither by their own ingenuity and cleverness, nor by learning in the disciplines of theology and philosophy, nor by the teaching of others, know how to distinguish such things.” 65 Although Gerson is advocating mystical experience as a qualification for his spiritual examiners, he is also trying to eliminate the possibility of a visionary claiming to discern his or her own spirits. The fine line Gerson walked in De distinctione, trying to preserve the usefulness of signs and magisterial examination over against the superiority of mystical experience, is even finer here. De probatione concludes with the assertion that “there is someone now alive … to whom it has been given to experience and practice all which has been said on many occasions and among many persons of this era.” 66 If this is the case, then Gerson, De probatione, in Glorieux, 9:178: “Probare spiritus … nemo perfecte potest per solam sacrae Scriptura eruditionem, qui non etiam expertus sit in seipso variam affectionum spiritualium pugnam, tamquam ascenderit nunc in coelos, nunc descenderit in abyssos et viderit mirabilia Dei in profundo.” 64 Ibid., 9:180: “in alienis personis quorum corda neque videre neque scrutari datur, oportet ut ab operibus signa sumamus.” This is followed by a citation from Matt. 7:16, “By their fruits you will know them.” 65 Ibid, 9:184: “qui neque per seipsos ea acumine ingenii, neque per eruditionem in theologicis et philosophicis disciplinis, neque per aliorum traditionem sciunt talia distinguere.” 66 Ibid., 9:185: “habentes vivere hominem, cujus nomen sit in libro vitae, cui pluries et in pluribus personis hujus temporis, datum est experiri et practicare omnia quae dicta sunt.” This has been read almost universally as another autobiographical reference, with no clear grounds for such a reading; most recent scholarship seems to have reached a 63

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discernment by experience – ideally a combination of magisterial and mystical – ought to be the rule of the day, according to Gerson’s own teachings. But now Gerson was writing from Constance, and the pastoral and magisterial concerns he had displayed in De distinctione had expanded to include the tottering institutional Church. He announces that he will focus on the first, magisterial method, specifically so that the council may use it “in the canonization of saints and the evaluation of their teachings.” 67 As it turns out, Gerson is interested in “especially the one who is called Birgitta,” whose visions include not only angels but Christ, Mary, St. Agnes, and other saints speaking to her “familiarly” or “as a husband would speak to a wife.” 68 Could Gerson be thinking of the ways Birgitta’s heavenly visitors offered her personalized discernment advice based on her spousal relationship with Christ? It is possible, but Gerson instead focuses on the widespread distribution of Birgitta’s Revelaciones: approving false visions would be inappropriate, but condemning visions which were accepted as truth by many different nations could result in a “not inconsiderable … scandal for the Christian religion and a terrible thing for the devotion of the people.” 69 Thus, Gerson advises that the council take a middle-of-the-road position, with “silence and dissimulation,” neither condemning nor denying such widely disseminated revelations. 70 It is clear that Gerson himself doubts the veracity of Birgitta’s visions, but the “Christian religion” and the “devotion of the people” – in other words, the concerns of the institutional Church – must take precedence over any

consensus that Gerson probably never enjoyed the sort of mystical experience he described so meaningfully. Cf. McGuire, “Jean Gerson, the Carthusians, and the Experience of Mysticism,” in The Mystical Tradition and the Carthusians 3, ed. James Hogg (Analecta Carthusiana 130 [1995]), 61–86. The opposing view is presented at length in André Combes, La théologie mystique de Gerson: Profil de son évolution (Rome: Desclée et socii, 1963–4). 67 Gerson, De probatione, in Glorieux, 9:179: “et diligenter inspicere dum in hoc sacro Concilio, queritur tractari de canonizatione sanctorum, et examinatione doctrinum suarum.” 68 Ibid.: “praesertim unius qua Brigitta nominatur, assueta visionibus quas nedum ab angelis, sed a Christo et Maria et Agnete et caeteris sanctis, familiaritate jugi, sicut sponsus ad sponsam loquitur.” Combes, Essai, 305, argues that “praesertim” attaches to the preceding phrase, “examinatione doctrinarum suarum” [i.e., of proposed saints] in an effort to underline the extent to which Gerson was worried about Birgitta’s theology. 69 Gerson, De probatione, in Glorieux, 9:179: “non parve est inde scandalorum in christiana religione et devotione populorum formidatio.” 70 Ibid., 9:180: “Denique in ipso etiam silentio et dissimulatione, ex quo res in medium posita est, non nihil inesse discriminis pertinescimus. Invenire vero medium aliquod vel expediens inter haec extrema.”

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belated effort to test Birgitta’s spirits. “Silence and dissimulation,” rather than examination or experience, are in order! Gerson’s idealism on the issue of discretio spirituum would seem to have suffered an impossible blow here: if any results can be ignored for the good of the Church, what is the point of bothering? Remarkably, however, he keeps going, perhaps cheered by the thought that a newly unified Church would be able to nip cases like Birgitta’s in the bud. With scholastic precision, Gerson offers a series of signs from which a probable (but not certain) decision can be made: “To whom is the revelation made? What does it contain and say? Why is it said to have happened? To whom was it presented for advice? From whom and from whence did the revelation come?” 71 As in De distinctione, the life of the visionary is emphasized over the vision’s content, or in Gerson’s words: “The testing of spirits includes not only the person who undergoes visions, but also the quality of the vision.” 72 In other words, the visionary is the obvious first resort of probatio spirituum, and the vision itself is something of an afterthought. Most of Gerson’s signs again deal overwhelmingly, if traditionally, with the visionary’s way of life: one must consider whether he or she is active or contemplative, in community or alone, “susceptible to visions, whether good and discerning [discretii] in judgment, possessed of natural reason.” 73 He or she must not be physically ill, new to the service of God, tending towards excessive debasement, or prideful either spiritually (too ascetic) or intellectually (trusting in one’s own judgment). In order to ascertain all of this, Gerson points out, one must observe “of what sort the person is and will be, in what way learned, accustomed, pleased; with whom spoken; whether rich or poor.” 74 Every detail of the visionary’s motives in reporting his or her visions must be examined. In another sign of Gerson’s renewed interest in hierarchy (or perhaps his objections to Alfonso Pecha), the visionary’s confessor is likewise charged with a program of action aimed more at the individual than at the vision: the confessor ought to 71 Ibid.: “Tu quis, quid, quare, cui, qualiter, unde require. Quis est cui fit revelatio. Quid ipsa continet et loquitur. Quare fieri dicitur. Cui pro consilio detergitur. Qualiter venire et under venire reperitur.” (In the Latin, of course, Gerson’s list of signa makes a neat and easy-to-remember rhyming couplet.) 72 Ibid., 9:181: “Probatio spirituum respicit nedum personam quae visiones patitur, sed visionum qualitatem.” [Italics are mine.] Of course, qualitas of both vision and visionary was central to Alfonso Pecha’s discernment process in the Epistola solitarii; cf. Chapter Four. 73 Ibid., 9:180–4; the quote is from 9:180: “suscipiens visiones, si sit boni si discreti judicii, rationis naturalis.” 74 Ibid., 9:180: “Rursus plurimum refert attendere qualis sit et fuerit persona, qualiter erudita, quibus assueta, quibus delectata, cum quibus conversata, si dives vel egena.” (Gerson explains that richness may indicate pride, and poverty, deception.)

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avoid praising his charge, instead offering scoldings or advice about humility. Another seemingly novel characteristic of De probatione spirituum is Gerson’s attack on female visionaries, since dismissal of female visionaries as a class does not appear in any of Gerson’s works up through 1415. Although he certainly provides a few negative female examples in De distinctione, they are matched by at least equal numbers of negative male examples, along with a handful of positive female examples including Monica and the Virgin Mary. 75 What he does say about women as a class in De distinctione is that they are susceptible to confusing carnal and spiritual love, although he then provides a male example. 76 In other works, Gerson’s Judicium on Ermine addressed her gender only insofar as it might imply some miraculous character to her revelations, and his allusions to the Free Spirit heresy throughout his early works were usually couched in unisex or male terms (so “Maria of Valenciennes” in De distinctione is an example of beguini et beguinae). Even in De probatione, two men are cited with disapproval – the antipapal hermit-preacher Jean de Varennes and the recently executed heretic Jan Hus – while Birgitta is the only woman so cited. 77 However, De probatione does present a series of grave doubts about the relationship between female visionaries and their male confessors. Observing that excessive zeal appears “especially among youths and women,” Gerson warns that female visionaries will waste their

By my count, there are nine examples of named or unnamed male figures behaving badly in De distinctione, as compared to two female figures (“Maria” and the woman from Arras). In fact, more theologians or “learned men” (three) than women (two) are cited for falling into error! There are also innumerable collective examples of “people” or “men” going astray and only one of “women” (as being susceptible to carnal love). Affirmative citations of male sources or men’s actions far outnumber those of women, of course, but Gerson does praise the Virgin Mary’s visionary and discernment skills during the Annunciation, Monica’s discernment abilities, and an unnamed devota mulier (who appears in opposition to “Maria’s” views on charity). 76 Cf. De distinctione, in Glorieux 3:51, and mentioned supra. 77 The references to Varennes and Hus are in De probatione, Glorieux, 9:183; both are described as individuals whose long-term results vitiated the seemingly divine inspiration of their initial reception. Varennes was a papal official who left Avignon for an eremitic life and then became a preacher of reform arguing against Pope Benedict XIII. Not surprisingly, he was imprisoned by the archbishop of Reims and presumably executed or died in prison. Cf. André Vauchez, “Un réformateur religieux dans la France de Charles VI: Jean de Varennes,” in Académie des Inscriptions et Belles-Lettres: Comptes rendus des séances de l’année 1998 Novembre-Décembre (Paris, 1998), 1111–1130. On Hus, the would-be Bohemian reformer, cf. infra. 77 Cf. De probatione, in Glorieux, 9:184, and supra. 75

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confessors’ time with excessive chatter about their visions. 78 And since women also possess “an insatiable itch to see and to speak – let us remain silent about touching” (followed by a quotation from the Aeneid about Dido’s attraction to Aeneas), it seems clear that Gerson is concerned about sex. 79 Such terminally fanciful women are likely, he asserts, “to be turned away from the truth” by confessors who are themselves false prophets. 80 Of course, the fear that male-female spiritual friendship could turn sexual dates from the Desert Fathers (if not earlier) and appears frequently in late medieval devotional literature. 81 And the charges of De probatione also served as another thinly veiled reproach to Birgitta and to her confessor Alfonso Pecha. But as Nancy McLoughlin has pointed out, in the context of Constance this passage in De probatione is not so much an attack on female visionaries as it is an attack on the mendicant orders who had opposed Gerson on several key points at Constance (as well as throughout his career as chancellor) and who were connected with (and legitimized by) their responsibility for confessional duties in communities of religious women. 82 Somehow, De probatione keeps coming back to the importance of the institutional Church – in this case its various forms of 78

nis.”

Gerson, De probatione, in Glorieux, 9:184: “praesertim in adolescentibus et foemi-

Ibid: “habet insatiabilem videndi loquendique, ut interim de tactu silentium sit, pruriginem.” 80 Ibid: “Nullus idcirco mirabitur si tales ad fabulas conversi, avertuntur a veritate.” Gerson’s scriptural source here is 2 Tim. 3:6–7, a diatribe against false prophets who lead away foolish little women (captivas ducunt mulierculas oneratas) and turn them away from truth. At a minimum, this citation implies that the confessors, not the women, are the false prophets. But the same verse appears several times in William of Saint-Amour’s anti-mendicant treatise De periculis (cf. Chapter Two) and had become a staple of antimendicant polemic by the early fifteenth century. In fact, Gerson himself used it very explicitly against mendicants in his 1408 De visitatione praelatorum, as noted by Nancy McLoughlin, “Gerson as a Preacher in the Conflict Between Mendicants and Secular Priests,” in McGuire ed., A Companion to Jean Gerson, 282. 81 For example, in Henry of Friemar’s De quattuor instinctibus (cf. Chapter Three). Henry’s four instincts also appear in De probatione, leading the careful reader to wonder whether Gerson had access to Henry’s treatise as well as Alfonso’s and other known sources. Since the diffusion of Henry’s work was relatively limited until mid-fifteenthcentury (but tended to be in precisely the areas where Gerson spent time), there is no definite evidence either way. 82 McLoughlin, “For the Sake of the University of Paris: Jean Gerson, Theological Reform, and Secular-Mendicant Conflict (1384–1429),” UC-Santa Barbara dissertation, 2005. On the connections drawn more generally between friars and visionary women, cf. John Coakley, “Gender and the Authority of Friars: The Significance of Holy Women for Thirteenth-Century Franciscans and Dominicans,” Church History 60 (1991): 445–60. However, cf. below on De examinatione doctrinarum for an example of Gerson’s polemic being more clearly directed at visionaries themselves. 79

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religious life and their proper roles with respect to one another. De probatione also emphasizes the theme of avoiding scandal, which overwhelms all other considerations in practice. (Despite his objections, Gerson does not contest Birgitta’s Revelaciones outright.) Away from the university and Paris at last, Gerson’s view of discernment of spirits had broadened along with his reform agenda, moving from a narrow focus on theologians to a wider focus on the institutional Church and even (via the Holy Spirit) the authority of the council. In Gerson’s final works on discernment, his focus would become even more broad, affecting not only the institutional Church but also the whole of Christendom. But his interest in the Holy Spirit meant that spiritual experience continued to be an important category as well, and (councils notwithstanding) the Church already had a long, visionary history of failing to reconcile the demands of the Holy Spirit with those of its own institutional continuity.

Hierarchy, Spirit, and Reforming Christendom Gerson’s last major opus on discretio spirituum, De examinatione doctrinarum, was written in 1423, while the English and their Burgundian allies held Paris and while Gerson, still the university’s titular chancellor, lived a quasi-monastic life in Armagnac Lyons near the Celestine convent where his youngest brother (also called Jean) had taken vows. The Lyons years were among Gerson’s most productive. He received a constant stream of letters and high-profile visitors, and penned more than forty treatises in response to their assorted requests. Unfortunately, there is no way of telling precisely what request De examinatione was written in response to. It begins with the Matthean verse “Beware of false prophets,” neglected in Gerson’s earlier discernment works, and Gerson elaborates on the verse using a medical metaphor: “Just as poison destroys the body, so false prophecies, so varied and strange teachings drag souls to destruction …. they disturb the Church and they overturn all polities, temporal as well as spiritual.” 83 A later reference to clerics living “in the land of Hus” suggests that Gerson may have been thinking of the ongoing religious and military turmoil in Bohemia, 84 but in any case Gerson’s focus has broadened again: this time he is concerned not only with the institutional Church Gerson, De examinatione doctrinarum, in Glorieux, 9:458: “quia sicut venenum corpus enecat, sic prophetiae falsae, sic doctrinae variae et peregrinae trahunt animas ad interitum …. Turbant insuper Ecclesiam; politias omnes, temporales simul et spirituales evertunt.” 84 Cf. ibid., 9:459. 83

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but with Christendom, in both its “temporal” and “spiritual” aspects. By the same token, in De examinatione Gerson is ostensibly concerned only with visions and revelations but also with doctrina or religious teachings in general, although most of the treatise is in fact devoted to consideration of visions and revelations. Like De probatione, De examinatione meanders from its stated plan to address four modes of examining doctrine (theologically, by example, philosophically, and practically) 85 in favor of a division into three different parts: the six degrees of persons who are to judge doctrine, the six questions for the ars examinationis; and some additional considerationes. This is the work on which Gerson’s reputation as a champion of hierarchical discernment is primarily based, but when De examinatione doctrinarum is viewed in the context of his other discernment works, it is striking how effectively he seems to undermine hierarchical authority in the name of reform. Gerson distinguishes six degrees of doctrinal examiners in the following order: “council, pope, prelate, teacher [doctor], educated person, and the discerner of spirits.” 86 These levels, however, do not all derive their authority from the same source, and their jurisdictions sometimes overlap. Thus, the general council serves as “an authoritative and final judge on teachings touching the faith,” while the pope is second in authority to the council and acts as examinator juridicus. 87 Within his own jurisdiction, each prelate has the same sort of judicial authority as the pope. A master or doctor of theology can also evaluate teachings, but his status as an examiner is “partly authoritative, partly doctrinal.” 88 Meanwhile, the educated (bene doctus) individual “sufficiently learned in holy writ” is a valid examinator only in terms of doctrine. 89 The sixth level, the discerner of spirits, partakes of neither authoritative nor doctrinal authority: anyone having the spiritual gift of discernment of spirits can become an examinator doctrinarum “insofar as he wishes this gift of the Holy Spirit to be extended to him… since the Holy Spirit by its manifestation makes known the truth, and it can neither deceive nor be deceived.” 90 Gerson is not 85 Ibid.: “quadruplici modo de examinatione doctrinarum: primo theologicaliter, deinde exemplariter, tertio philosophicaliter, quarto practicabiliter.” 86 Ibid., 9:458: “Concilium, papa, praesul, doctor, bene doctus, discretor quoque spirituum de dogmate censent.” This forms the first two lines of a verse quatrain in the Latin text. 87 Ibid., 9:459: “Examinator authenticus et finalis judex doctrinarum fidem tangentium Concilium est generale.” 88 Ibid., 9:462: “Examinator partim authenticus, partim doctrinalis.” 89 Ibid.: “quilibet in sacris litteris sufficienter eruditus.” 90 Ibid., 9:463: “Examinator hujusmodi doctrinarum, est omnis habens discretionem spirituum, quantum hoc donum Spiritus Sancti in eo vult extendi. Deducitur ex terminis,

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issuing an entirely open mandate, of course; the human vessel of this infallible Spirit is expected to concur with articles of faith and with the literal sense of Scripture, and the Spirit should produce the now-familiar “intimate taste” in its operatio and humility in its recipient. 91 This last is an interesting development: Gerson’s insistence on moral qualifications for visionaries seems to have blended with his emphasis on experiential qualifications for their magisterial judges, so that now theologians as well as visionaries can be tested by humility! It is also worth noting that Gerson has abandoned the attempt to follow Ambrosiaster in linking the gifts of the Spirit directly to the church hierarchy as he did in De probatione. However, Gerson is well aware of the difficulties inherent in granting authority to someone outside the hierarchy: he stresses that discretio spirituum (like the other gifts of the Spirit) is given for the edification of the Church, and cites a “canon” – clearly Cum ex iniuncto – to the effect that “no one claiming to have been sent from above should be believed unless he teaches about his mission after the manner of John the Baptist.” 92 Moreover, if someone claiming to have a gift from the Spirit is judging a case with ambiguous or extraneous teachings, it should instead be referred to the other five grades of examinatores for judgment. 93 In her article on Gerson’s ecclesiology, Caiger argues that these qualifications keep the discretor “firmly at the bottom of the list” of authorities. 94 quoniam Spiritus Sanctus in manifestatione veritatis intima, nec fallere nec falli potest.” Discretor, the term Gerson uses to describe this individual on 9:458 (cf. supra), is a relatively unusual Latin word, and one not frequently used to describe human beings, since it would normally evoke Heb. 4:12–3: “vivus est enim Dei sermo et efficax et penetrabilior omni gladio ancipiti et pertingens usque ad divisionem animae ac spiritus, et non est ulla creatura invisibilis in conspectu eius; omnia autem nuda et aperta sunt oculis eius.” While discretor is applied to the thought-discerning abbot Silvanus in Verba seniorum 10.85 (in PL 73, 928a), the overwhelming majority of medieval uses of the term seem to apply it to God or God’s Word. Thus, even Gerson’s choice of terminology would seem to add authority to the discretor. 91 Gerson, De examinatione, in Glorieux, 9:463–4. Monica’s experience in the Confessions is cited in support of the “intimate taste.” What I have translated “literal sense” is in fact sensus litteralis, but Gerson explains that it may be found in parabolicis locutionibus or other non-“literal” interpretations. In fact, it is the sense which the Spirit intended (“verum ille quem Spiritus Sanctus principaliter intendebat,” 9:463); the circularity of this definition does not seem to have troubled Gerson. 92 Ibid., 9:464: “nemini dicenti se missum desuper, opertere credi nisi de sua doceat missione exemplo Joannis Baptistae.” On Cum ex iniuncto and the canon-law tradition, cf. Chapter Two. Taber, “The Theologian and the Schism,” op. cit., points to the Monzon affair (cf. Chapter Five), where Cum ex iniuncto was invoked, as a key to Gerson’s future “theory and practice of ecclesiology” (257). 93 Gerson, De examinatione, in Glorieux, 9:464. 94 Caiger, “Doctrine and Discipline,” 400.

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Apart from these restrictions, however, Gerson’s scheme seems to offer virtually unlimited power to the discretor. As an examiner of doctrine, the discretor’s jurisdiction reaches further than any of the five hierarchical categories. His authority is neither authoritative nor doctrinal but comes directly from the Spirit and is therefore not only infallible but also universal. It is only logical that he himself becomes a subject of scrutiny: his behavior must be analyzed by the same behavioral standards and canons used to assess visionaries! In asides throughout De examinatione, Gerson further undermines the standing of the hierarchy. He observes that while the apostles and their immediate successors were taught things not written in the Gospels, the Gospels, once authorized by the Church, were “more to be believed than any other human authority.” 95 At the beginning of the treatise, referring to the Bohemian situation (where the hierarchy had largely sided with the Utraquists), he further asserts that “the soul of a just person sometimes reveals the truth more than seven examiners assembled on high in order to decide.” 96 Could Gerson also have been thinking of war-torn France, where the hierarchy was divided and the University of Paris was now agreeing with the English position on virtually all the issues of the day? 97 It appears that the unlicensed practitioner of discretio spirituum is particularly useful in times of stress, warfare, or widespread heresy – all of which seemed to Gerson and his contemporaries to be the case for them. According to Gerson, after all, even a doctor of theology is also

Gerson, De examinatione, in Glorieux, 9:463: “plus est credendum Evangelio, quam alteri cuicumque auctoritate humanae.” Gerson continues by observing that “totius Ecclesiae, quoniam illa est auctoritas Dei et Evangelii, ne errare possit in fide,” but he never links this totius Ecclesiae back to any sort of human authority. And while Gerson describes the “apostolis et immediatis successoribus” as “noviter et certitudinaliter a Christo doctis,” the term certitudinaliter and the fact that he includes “immediate successors” does seem to hark back to the Pentecost narrative of Acts 2. This entire passage comes just before Gerson begins discussing the authority of the charismatic discretor. 96 Gerson, De examinatione, in Glorieux, 9:459: “Anima denique justi aliquando vera annuntiat, plusquam septem speculatores constituti in excelsa ad speculandum.” On the Utraquist movement and the Bohemian wars, the most accessible English treatment is in Lambert, Medieval Heresy, 284–360. 97 Interestingly, Caiger, “Doctrine and Displine,” 398, considers this passage to be among the “admissions” which have “undermined the force of the first three claims for authority in discrimination” – i.e., council, pope, and prelate. This qualification may be because Caiger translates speculatores as “bishops”; it seems to me to point to the doctrinal examiners (magistri and the bene doctus) as well. Caiger concludes that Gerson is indeed upholding the hierarchy, but admits that this seems “contradictory.” 95

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obliged to preach or teach without a particular commission “when the need to uproot heresies is imminent.” 98 The second part of De examinatione doctrinarum is even more clearly directed outside the institutional Church: in the same fashion as De distinctione’s five points and De probatione’s list of interrogatives, here Gerson offers a series of question-based tests for evaluating doctrine. These tests do not require popes, councils, or prelates, and they foreground the good of the Church as a whole. The first test, on the teaching itself, requires consonance with Scripture primo et principaliter, underlining the authority Gerson gives to the bene doctus earlier. Gerson offers the contemporary case of Raymond Llull as a problematic example. 99 The next two tests deal with how and by whom the teaching is propagated: is the teacher expert in that field, old or young, obedient or disobedient, male or female? The same questions are then asked about the audience of the teachings, extending the examination process even further. In keeping with this extension, the final three-part question addresses an issue which received only a single mention in De probatione: the purpose or outcome (finis) of these teachings – specifically, whether the outcome is “honorable, useful, [and] pleasing,” whether it can be shown to have involved temporal gain or profit, and whether it leads to carnal or spiritual excess. 100 The mild ambiguity of the term finis (meaning either “outcome” or “purpose”) allows Gerson to evaluate the atmosphere surrounding the teaching – in other words, expanding the discernment process outside content and moral character to include details about audience and reception history. 101 Dyan Elliott has pointed out the extent to which Gerson uses inquisitio and other terms from inquisitorial protocol throughout this section of De examinatione, but there is no sign in the text of an episcopally appointed inquisitor. 102 Gerson’s strong interest in examining the context and results of revelations seems at best unrelated to his efforts to establish a hierarchy for discerning spirits. 98 Gerson, De examinatione, in Glorieux, 9:462: “dum necessitas imminent haereses convellendi.” 99 Cf. ibid., 9:465. Also in 1423 – possibly around the same time he was writing De examinatione – Gerson penned a treatise Super doctrinam Raymundi Lulle, in Glorieux, 10:121–8. Obviously, the Llull case was on his mind. 100 Gerson, De examinatione, in Glorieux, 9:470: “honorabile, utile, delectabile.” In De probatione, there is only the relatively brief heading of quo fine, which focuses on both the manner of the visionary’s death and his or her motivations. Cf. supra. 101 Here I disagree with Caiger’s argument that finis means only “outcome” and not “purpose” in De examinatione (cf. Caiger, “Doctrine and Displine,” 403–4). It would be somewhat peculiar if Gerson argued that holy revelations had to have a pleasing purpose, but the issue of temporal gain does seem to be directed at purpose rather than outcome. 102 Cf. Elliott, Proving Woman, 283–4.

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What Gerson does say about the hierarchy in this section of De examinatione is not precisely calculated to inspire confidence. As is well known, Gerson devotes considerably more space in De examinatione than he did in De probatione to the problem of visionary women. Citing biblical, patristic, and physiological commonplaces about women’s lesser capacity, he concludes that “every teaching of women, especially that expressed in solemn word or writing, is to be held suspect, unless it has been diligently examined by the other six types of people which we have addressed above, and much more so than the teaching of men.” 103 Women may claim to enjoy unmediated visions of God (perhaps a Free Spirit reference?) and may “call priests of God their sons” while sinking into disobedience and sensuality. 104 While men as well as women can be seduced by diabolical illusion, women are especially prone to mental or physical illness which may inspire visions, Gerson adds. 105 In another echo of De probatione, he warns about the potential for confessors to exaggerate or tell lies in praise of their visionaries, “especially in canonization materials and testimonies taken up by confessors.” 106 In other words, visionary women can successfully dupe priests, and therefore women’s teachings require examination by all six grades of examiners – that is, including the “freelance” discerner of spirits. The attack here is rhetorically aimed at female visionaries, but one cannot help wondering whether the problem is the visionaries or the institutional Church which has enabled them. In fact, Gerson’s final paragraph on the topic is marked by an emphasis on problematic hierarchy rather than gender. He cautions “especially prelates and doctors about lesser people, particularly the uneducated [idiotas], or unlearned little women.” 107 They should not be believed lightly, even if they produce “unusual visions or miracles.” 108 Then Gerson comes to his strongest point: he asserts that the late Pope Gregory XI’s deathbed warning was to “beware of people, either men or women, speaking the visions of their heads under the appearance of religion; because 103 Gerson, De examinatione, in Glorieux, 9:468: “omnis doctrina mulierum, maxime solemnis verbo seu scripto, reputanda est suspecta, nisi prius fuerit altera sex modorum quos supra tetigimus examinata, et multo amplius quam doctrina virorum.” 104 Ibid., 9:467: “appellare sacerdotes Dei filios suos.” This description in the context of the Schism suggests Catherine of Siena, who did indeed refer to priests as “sons” in some contexts, but it could also apply to other figures, such as the thirteenth-century Franciscan visionary Angela of Foligno. 105 Ibid., 9:467–9. 106 Ibid., 9:469: “praesertim in materia canonizationis et testificationis sumptae per confessors.” 107 Ibid.: “Sequitur altera cautela pro praelatis specialiter et doctoribus, apud inferiores praesertim idiotas, ac sine litteris mulierculas.” 108 Ibid.: “visiones insolitas seu miracula.”

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through such people he himself had been seduced.” 109 It was this pope whose return to Rome sparked the Great Western Schism, so it does not require a great deal of investigation to deduce the identity of some of these visionaries; if nothing else, this provides a conclusive explanation for Gerson’s distrust of Birgitta. Judging from the plurals and the care with which he specifies both genders, he may also have been referring to Catherine of Siena, Pedro of Aragon, and perhaps other lesser-known figures. 110 De examinatione’s broad condemnation of female visionary activity is somewhat lessened by the even-handedness of this final warning. But the shocking aspect of this example is its insistence that even the pope cannot necessarily avoid “seduction” and that even papally approved visionaries must be tested in terms of their visions’ outcome. Moreover, this example comes at the end of a section providing warnings which undercut almost the entire hierarchy of examiners Gerson has offered: visionaries can deceive not only their confessors (presumably bene doctus), but also theologians, prelates, and the pope! The only authorities left undamaged are the council – which, of course, functions under the inspiration of the Holy Spirit itself – and the truly charismatic discerner of spirits. Both the first and second parts of De examinatione are further complicated by a final series of “considerations” which reiterate a preference for experiential over hierarchical qualifications. Here Gerson returns to familiar difficulties from De distinctione and De probatione: the problem of personal experience recurs, accompanied by the problem of public perception. Gerson warns that some errors should not be publicized for fear of scandal, that second-hand reports should not be given full credence, that people with experience of spiritual revelation should be consulted in any evaluation process, and that teachings dealing with mystical theology are particularly difficult to address without help from the Holy Spirit. 111 In fact, help from the Holy Spirit seems to trump the series of signs Gerson offered in the previous section: “One should not understand [the Spirit’s] inspiration via certain rules and terms, as if the inspiration had not been from grace.” 112 (The Spirit also appears to delight in undermining Gerson’s earlier anti-female polemic, as the passage continues with the scriptural

Ibid.: “ut caverent ab hominibus, tam viris quam mulieribus, sub specie religionis visiones loquentibus sui capitis; quia per tales ipse seductus esset.” 110 Cf. Chapters Four and Five. 111 Gerson, De examinatione, in Glorieux, 9:473–5. 112 Ibid., 9:474: “non debet ejus inspiratio sub certis regulis aut terminis comprehendi, sicut nec gratuita visitatio.” 109

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example of “strong women who are considered pathways of the home.”) 113 Even the best of examiners may fall into errors from which only God can rescue them, Gerson points out, and he provides as an example his own “near seduction” by Ermine and her supporters before he launches into yet another polemic against excessive curiosity and innovation in the schools, which he still considered in need of reform. 114 By the end of De examinatione, the dual challenges of sustaining the faith throughout Christendom and trusting the inspiration of the Spirit seem to negate the authority of Gerson’s church hierarchy as well as his guidelines for detailed magisterial examination. Gerson is nowhere near suggesting that the hierarchy should be done away with, of course, but it seems that for every appeal to the hierarchy, he provides two cautions against trusting it entirely. As Brian Patrick McGuire points out, in De examinatione Gerson has “deconstructed his own exhortation to listen only to recognized authorities and to be suspicious of individual religious experience. In the end, control is abandoned to the Holy Spirit, a requirement that covers both men and women, the learned and the unschooled.” 115 The anti-hierarchical and pro-spiritual tendencies of De examinatione are further amplified in a minor work, Centilogium de impulsibus, which Gerson wrote in 1423 or 1424. 116 This work identifies a series of impulses which operate on humans: divine (including luminous, kind, and sweet); moral (which may originate from the Holy Spirit); demonic; and diabolical (including violent, fraudulent, deceitful, and evil). 117 Gerson’s examples of diabolical deceit include both men and women, but the gender question does not seem to concern him here. 118 Instead, he observes that a certain Ibid.: “quales sunt qui exemplo mulieris fortis considerant semitas domas suae.” Gerson is citing Prov. 31:27, often glossed as referring to the perfect soul rather than the mulierem fortem. 114 Ibid., 9:474–5; the quote is from 9:475, “Fui pridem, fateor, per relationes aliquorum magnae merito reputationis, proximus seductioni de quadam Hermina, Remensi, nisi modum responsionis propriae, Deo volente, temperassem.” 115 McGuire, Jean Gerson and the Last Medieval Reformation, 318. 116 The Centilogium de impulsibus is dated to October 1424 in Glorieux, 8:134, but if it is the “alia scripta de impulsibus… quae proficiunt ad examinationem doctrinarum” mentioned at the end of De examinatione (Glorieux, 9:475), it must have been written shortly before or contemporaneous with the 1423 work. 117 Here, as in several of Gerson’s other works (supra), the issue of Henry of Friemar’s possible influence appears but remains unanswerable, as there are strong parallels but no obvious textual borrowing and considerable differences. 118 Gerson, Centilogium. There is one reference to Eve (Glorieux, 8:142), one to women as being more susceptible to “impetum cordis sui” (8:137), and another to the female soothsayer of Acts 16:16–8, an episode Gerson describes as involving “fictis miraculis et revelationibus muliercularum” (8:143). But there is no effort to discuss 113

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knowledge of whether impulses are good or evil (especially those which might come from the Holy Spirit) cannot be achieved by humans, “neither according to [the impulses’] origin, nor their middle, nor their end.” 119 D’Ailly’s influence still shows as Gerson explains that some types of probable knowledge about moral impulses are possible, but the erstwhile chancellor goes on to warn that divine impulses or supernatural graces “evidently cannot be known unless it has been especially revealed.” 120 On the other side of the moral spectrum, Satan’s deceit can “conceal itself now from theologians under monastic rules, now preachers, now confessors, now the religious, now hermits, now prelates.” 121 Under the guise of an angel of light (2 Cor. 11:14), Satan is even able to produce seeming apostles, evangelists, preachers, teachers, virgins, martyrs, monks, and hermits; Satan also can offer counterfeit spiritual gifts, including “discernment of spirits but deceptive.” 122 Here Gerson has cast the entire institutional Church into question, and he does not even seem to be considering the wider problem of public perception (which is just as well under the circumstances). The Centilogium seems to be a work with strong pastoral elements intended for individual guidance. In its final section, however, Gerson does recommend a series of ways to resist diabolic impulses, and these run a very familiar gamut: humility, poverty of spirit, avoidance of judgment, mourning, fortitude, the counsel of the Holy Spirit, intellect accompanied by purity of heart, wisdom accompanied by peace and a sense of adoption by God, and charity inspired by the Holy Spirit. 123 This order implies that spiritual gifts are indeed the most effective, and we learn in this connection that the counsel of the Spirit is (again) “from an intimate taste” and turns out to be “true discernment of spirits,” which can overcome false signs. 124 Stripped of the gender as a key element to the extent that there was in De examinatione; rather, there are many more examples of male misbehavior. 119 Ibid., in Glorieux, 8:136: “neque secundum originem, neque secundum media, neque secundum finem.” 120 Ibid., 8:149: “cognosci non potest evidenter hic nisi specialiter fuerit revelatum.” (Later on, Gerson writes that the biblical Job identified demonic impulses ex instinctu synderesis; cf. 8:140.) 121 Ibid., 8:142: “Celat se nunc theologi sub habitu, nunc praedicatoris, nun religiosi, nunc solitarii, nunc praelati.” 122 Ibid., 8:146: “discretio spirituum sed fallax.” Gerson runs through the entire catalogue of spiritual gifts in 1 Corinthians 12 here, showing how Satan twists most of them. (Prophecy is left unchanged, presumably because demons can already prophesy.) 123 Ibid., 8:147–9. 124 Ibid., 8:148: “ex intimo gustu …. Haec est vera discretio spirituum.” Oddly enough, the signum fallax is compared to “parturientis phantasias patitur nisi a Deo fuerit immissa visitatio.”

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doctrinal and hierarchical claims of De examinatione, the Centilogium de impulsibus throws Gerson’s resort to experience into sharp focus: once human knowledge, human behavior, and human institutions have all been largely discounted as methods of distinguishing between divine and diabolic impulses, only vera discretio spirituum – “true discernment of spirits,” another grace coming from the Holy Spirit and experienced by taste or other sensations – is a reliable guide. The virtually omnipotent Satan and helpless hierarchy of the Centilogium represents an implicit abandonment (or at least contraction) of Gerson’s plans for spiritual reform across Christendom: with every institution and office proving unreliable, he has returned to a program for individual reform based on a mystical, “intimate,” and above all private understanding of discretio spirituum. For the first time in his extensive discernment oeuvre, Gerson even seems to be suggesting that perhaps a visionary should, after all, look to his or her own capacity for discernment aided by the Holy Spirit.

Joan of Arc and the Outcomes of Reform Although he could take comfort in the ending of the Great Western Schism, Gerson’s grander projects for reform of the university, of the institutional Church, and of Christendom had met with decidedly mixed success. But shortly before his death in July 1429, he entered one last public controversy which called for his discernment skills. Another pressing question of inspiration had arisen in France, this one having to do with the controversial young woman known to posterity as Joan of Arc. In the first months of 1429, Joan managed to convince both the future Charles VII and a panel of theological examiners at Poitiers that she was sent by God and that she should be given the necessary resources to battle the English at Orléans. Her interaction with the Dauphin remains mysterious. She apparently identified him, although it is not clear whether or not he was in disguise, and told him some sort of private sign or secret. 125 Unfortunately, the record of the Poitiers deliberations has been lost, but a summary of its findings indicates that the panel found her way of life Cf. Sullivan, The Interrogation of Joan of Arc, 64–70, and Peyronnet, “Gerson, Charles VII, et Jeanne d’Arc: la propagande au service de la guerre,” Revue d’histoire ecclésiastique 84 (1989): 334–70. During her trial, Joan briefly claimed that the “sign” she gave the king was a crown-bearing angel, but she promptly denied it in the following examination, and otherwise insisted that she could not reveal the contents of what she had told him. Sullivan gives ample reason for discounting this narrative or reading the angel as Joan herself. 125

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unobjectionable and offered conditional approval of her mission. 126 But when an armor-clad Joan succeeded, against all odds, at lifting the English siege of Orléans, she demonstrated the practical shortcomings of Gerson’s recommendation to judge a revelation by its outcome. The Dauphin’s delighted partisans almost unanimously hailed her as a messenger from God, but the English and their Burgundian allies used that same outcome to argue that she had been inspired by the devil. Gerson himself was a partisan of the Dauphin, and many of Joan’s Poitiers examiners were Gerson’s own students or former colleagues. 127 It is no surprise that the titular Chancellor could not resist weighing in on a topic so near to both his political sympathies and his theological expertise. On May 14, only six days after Joan’s victory at Orléans, Gerson penned a short treatise in her defense entitled Super facto puellae et credulitate sibi praetestanda, which draws on many features of his lifelong discernment oeuvre. 128 Super facto puellae begins by explaining why matters of faith are to be judged in a different fashion from other possibly false probabilities, an issue which Gerson had encountered with increasing force throughout his major discernment treatises. While it is wrong to disbelieve a matter of faith, he asserts, there are also matters “which are called of piety or devotion to the faith, and [are] in no way necessary [to believe].” 129 Gerson suggests three conditions for judging such a matter: that it excites devotion and affection towards God; that it is vouched for “either by the general account or by the attestation of the faithful who say that they have seen or heard it”; and that “when considered with discretion by men learned in theology and of good moral character … it does not include or commingle any falsehood or error which might be manifested to the detriment of faith

Cf. Fraoli, Joan of Arc: Early Debates, esp. 45–54. Ibid., 47. 128 The authenticity of this treatise, which has also been referred to as De mirabili victoria and De puella Aurelianensis, was cast into doubt during the 1950s but finally proved (along with a new critical edition) in Daniel Hobbins, “Jean Gerson’s Authentic Tract on Joan of Arc: Super Facto Puellae et Credulitate Sibi Praetestanda (14 May 1429), Mediaeval Studies 67 (2005): 99–155. Interestingly, Fraioli, Joan of Arc, 126–49, had compared Super facto puella with De probatione and concluded that “the fourteen years’ interval between the two tracts has seen a marked breakdown and decay in the chancellor’s ability to write a reasoned and cohesive argument in a comprehensible and precise manner” (140); although this rather overstates the cohesiveness of De probatione, Fraioli might have been better served by comparing Super facto puellae to Gerson’s more developed ideas in De examinatione. 129 Gerson, Super facto puellae, in Hobbins, “Jean Gerson’s Authentic Tract,” 147: “quod illa vocantur de pietate vel devotione fidei, et nullomodo de necessitate.” 126 127

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or good mores, directly or indirectly, openly or secretly.” 130 This is a characteristically Gersonian reference to magisterially educated theologians, assuming their jurisdiction as examinatores but not communicating great faith in their ability to reach consensus: when Gerson points out that it is not canonically lawful for anyone to pass judgment on such a matter when it is tolerated in at least one province of the institutional Church, he adds that it is widely known that the doctors of the Church have yet to reach full agreement on the conception of the Blessed Virgin! 131 Super facto puellae, written to explain Joan’s factum at Orléans, shares an emphasis on outcome with De examinatione: even before Gerson deals with Joan’s way of life and her conformity with church doctrine, he asserts that her mission should be judged in terms of the results it produces. Of course, Gerson’s political interests coincided with Joan’s, so his definition of “good results” turns out to address topics other than devotion towards God: he writes that he is “considering circumstances with their clear result, especially from the final cause which is most just, that is, the restitution of a king to his kingdom and the most just expulsion and conquest of his most pertinacious enemies.” 132 After setting out these general considerations, however, the treatise follows the usual pattern of Gerson’s discernment works and provides specific points on which Joan’s case can be judged. Joan’s virtuous life is again brought forward as evidence in her favor: she displays the traits of prudence, temperance, and humility; she is neither superstitious nor fraudulent; she has brought joy and praise of God to her allies, along with fear to her enemies; her warnings are consonant with Scripture and with good morals; she appears not to be acting in her own interests, since she is willing to risk her body for her faith. 133 Each one of these guidelines (if not their specific application to Joan) can be traced back to one or more of Gerson’s earlier discernment treatises. Gerson even makes the now-familiar point that many canonization processes for people less holy than Joan are tolerated due to pious devotion, even if they are not 130 Ibid., 148: “Altera condicio est quod habeatur circa talia probabilis aliqua coniectura vel ex communi relatione vel ex fidelium attestatione qui dicunt se vidisse vel audisse. Superadditur tertia condicio cum discretione pensanda per viros in theologia et bonis moribus eruditos… non includatur vel immisceatur aliquod falsum vel erroneum quod manifeste sit in detrimentum fidei vel bonorum morum, directe vel indirecte, palam vel occulte.” 131 Ibid., 148–9. Gerson’s involvement in the Monzon case and the expulsion of the Dominicans from the University of Paris in the 1390s made this an especially logical example for him, but it does not reflect especially well on doctores as a group. 132 Ibid., 149: “circumstantiis attentis, cum effectu patenti, praesertim ex causa finali quae justissima est, scilicet restitutio regis ad regnunt suum et pertinacissimorum inimicorum suorum justissima repulsio seu debellatio.” 133 Ibid., 149–50.

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necessarily required by faith. 134 The final section of De mirabili includes a defense of Joan’s more controversial practices (wearing men’s clothing, riding into battle, and cutting her hair) with many biblical and patristic examples defending each practice. But Gerson’s spiritual interests shine through when he notes that Joan and her followers have not misused God’s grace for the purposes of vain curiosity, mundane inquiry, or sectarian hatred. He then provides a brief disquisition on the proper receipt of God’s grace, ending it with a prayer. 135 Leaving aside the details of Joan’s victory, Gerson’s views on discernment do not seem to have changed much between 1423 and 1429: the conclusion that it is “pious, salutary, of true and devout faith” to believe in the Maid is based on many of the same guidelines (however internally inconsistent) that he offered in De examinatione. 136 He argues that the orthodoxy of Joan’s revelations can be supported by the purity of her motives and lifestyle as well as the justice and success of her cause. In keeping with the decision of the Poitiers commission, Super facto puellae finally offers conditional approval of Joan’s mission by stressing that it would be more dangerous to disbelieve Joan’s divine mission than to believe in it. 137 But Super facto puellae can also usefully be read as a contrast to Gerson’s Centilogium, since the former focuses exclusively on public and the latter on private discernment processes. Instead of admitting the doubt about the institutional Church which pervades the Centilogium, Super facto puellae’s initial distinction between faith and devotion successfully removes the institutional Church from consideration, a wise choice in view of the problems Joan would later face with Englishdominated bishops and a University of Paris full of (now hostile) examiners. However, and very much unlike the Centilogium or any of Gerson’s major discernment treatises, the question of experience and the Holy Spirit barely enters into Super facto puellae. Perhaps Gerson realized the futility of championing spiritual experience in such a public (and so clearly political) case. Instead, Super facto puellae concentrates on the safest

134 Ibid., 150. References to unnecessary canonization, of course, suggest De probatione as well. 135 Ibid., 152–3. 136 Ibid., 149: “quod pie et salubriter potest de pietate fidei et devotionis.” 137 Cf. ibid., 152. Gerson notes that “neque sequitur semper post primum miraculum quidquid ab hominibus expectatur vel expectabatur” but nevertheless “non operteret concludere ea quae facta sunt, a maligno spiritu vel non a Deo facta esse; sed vel propter nostram ingratitudinem et blasphemias, vel aliunde … posset contingere frustratio expectationis nostrae in ira Dei.” There is certainly a note of justification here, but it is cautiously expressed: Joan is not necessarily inspired by an evil spirit.

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topics of the discernment tradition: the lifestyle of the visionary, the content of her visions, and the results they produced. As it turned out, Super facto puellae focused on precisely the elements of Gerson’s discernment teachings which would be most popular in the following centuries. Future writers on discernment, whether general or devoted to a specific visionary/vision, occasionally followed Gerson in acknowledging, but trying desperately to marginalize the possibility of, experiential discernment. Some of these writers preferred to work through the church hierarchy, or at least with its agreement – Gerson’s works were certainly amenable to this reading. But they overwhelmingly emphasized guidelines focusing on the character of the visionary at least as much as the content of his or her visions, even though Gerson had demonstrated how unreliable lifestyle could be as a predictor of inspiration. Indeed, within a few months of Gerson’s death in July 1429, an anonymous treatise written by a Parisian cleric (sometimes called De bono et malo spiritu) took Super facto puellae and twisted its arguments in favor of Joan’s lifestyle into a condemnation stressing her unwomanly, irreverent, and blasphemous conduct. 138 The judges at Joan’s 1431 trial in Rouen were probably also familiar with Gerson’s discernment works, although they avoided citing such an eminent member of the opposing camp by name. However, Gerson’s legacy to them included not only a synthesis of earlier discernment traditions but also a generous measure of uncertainty: three of the theologians consulted during Joan’s trial at Rouen – men selected for their allegiance to the English cause as well as their magisterial status – declared themselves unable to give a definitive verdict on whether Joan’s inspiration came from God or from the devil. “A formal answer,” they wrote, “is dependent upon a certitude of discernment about the origin of the alleged revelations which we are unable to reach.” 139 The treatise is identified in September 1429 as De bono et malino spiritu [sic] in Denifle and Chatelain, CUP 4:515. It has been published in Noel Valois, “Un nouveau témoignage sur Jeanne d’Arc: réponse d’un clerc parisien à l’apologie de la pucelle par Gerson (1429),” Annuaire-Bulletin de la Société de l’histoire de France 43 (1906): 161– 79, and is discussed in Elliott, Proving Woman, 288–92, and Fraioli, Joan of Arc, 159– 72. De bono et malo spiritu begins by asserting that judgments in favor of Joan have ignored the requirements of Cum ex iniuncto and have been too hasty, but then proceeds to condemn Joan on a series of charges unrelated to Cum ex iniuncto: her masculine attire and behavior, her heretical claim that God intervenes for a single nation, her failure to observe holy days, her inaccurate predictions, her idolatry, and her sorcery. 139 In Tisset and Y. Lanhers, Procès de condamnation de Jeanne d’Arc (Paris: Klincksieck, 1960–71), 1:323: “formalis responsio … pendet ex certitudine discrecionis originis pretensarum revelacionum quam actingere minime sufficimus.” Cf. Fraioli, Joan of Arc, 35; on the identity and orientation of the judges, cf. Pierre Champion, “Les Juges de 138

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Discernment and Reform: Gerson’s Legacy At Gerson’s death in 1429, he left not only any further defense of Joan but also many of his lifelong projects unfinished. His brother Jean, a Celestine monk, finished and distributed the commentary on the Song of Songs which had occupied Gerson’s final months, but neither Jean nor the Celestines and Carthusians who became Gerson’s literary executors could see Gerson’s reform initiatives through to their conclusion. His projects for reform at the university level had been largely abandoned. His projects for reform of the institutional Church, while successful in ending the Schism at Constance, resulted in several decades of debate over the respective authority of pope and council, ending with a papal victory which Gerson would not have approved (and which gave him a posthumous reputation for tainted orthodoxy). Perhaps his most lasting impact came out of the projects that proposed to reform and spiritualize Christendom as a whole, such as his support of the cult of St. Joseph and his championship of affective mystical traditions. (Indeed, the popular spiritual classic Imitatio Christi was attributed to Gerson well into the nineteenth century.) 140 But the erstwhile Chancellor also gained an enduring posthumous reputation as an authority on the discernment of spirits. His concerns about Birgitta’s Revelaciones in De probatione were brought up during the reappraisal of her canonization at the Council of Basel in the mid-1430s, 141 and his treatise in favor of Joan was (predictably) invoked throughout her posthumous “rehabilitation” trial in the early 1450s. 142 Gerson was cited among other patristic and medieval authorities on the discernment of spirits in ecclesiastical records from fifteenth-century rural Spain, as local priests and bishops strove to assess the veracity of their parishioners’ revelations. 143 At the same time, the new genre of extensive and carefully structured treatises on discretio spirituum, beginning with Denys the Carthusian’s De discretione et examinatione spirituum (1459), became a

Jeanne d’Arc,” Revue universelle 1 (1920): 301–12, and the appendix to vol. 2 of the Tisset/Lanhers Procès edition. 140 Gerson’s supposed authorship of the Imitatio Christi was upheld as late as the 1890s. Cf. McGuire, Jean Gerson and the Last Medieval Reformation, 328–9. 141 As discussed in Sahlin, Birgitta of Sweden, 221–3. 142 On Joan’s rehabilitation (more properly, the process of nullification of the previous verdict), cf. the critical edition with introduction and notes by Pierre Duparc, Procès en nullité de la condamnation de Jeanne d’Arc (Paris: Klincksieck, 1977–89). 143 As described in William Christian, Apparitions in Late Medieval and Renaissance Spain, 188–204.

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staple of theological writing and made Gerson and some of his scholastic predecessors even more popular as sources. 144 But a more disturbing trend was also underway. Gerson’s works on discernment were brought to bear on female visionaries and even rewritten to suit a more authoritarian perspective. Dyan Elliot has pointed out that several manuscripts of De examinatione doctrinarum have removed Gerson’s conclusion, with its distrust of authority and appeals to the Holy Spirit, and instead substituted an account of an alleged 1424 trial of a female visionary who, under torture, admitted to falsifying her revelations out of cupidity and devotion to the devil. 145 By the end of the fifteenth century, Gerson’s De probatione spirituum was being used together with the Malleus maleficarum in order to interrogate suspected witches. 146 Was this an outcome Gerson would have desired? Despite his misgivings about the roles of female visionaries with respect to their confessors and with respect to the Great Schism, Gerson would probably have been uncomfortable with the ways in which his work on discernment was used against women dedicated to religious life. He had not only advocated for Joan but had initially suspended judgment about Ermine and had deemed Porete erroneous but devout. Even the woman of Arras mentioned in De distinctione, whose demonic inspiration Gerson was quite certain about, was for him a source of remembered grief that she had not taken his advice, not a criminal in need of a trial. Gerson would undoubtedly have been happy to imagine himself a spiritual guide, authority, and perhaps even consolation to future Christians, but would not have wanted to be an instrument for their punishment.

De discretione et examinatione spirituum appears in Doctoris ecstatici D. Dionysii Cartusiani Opera Omnia, 40:267–305. This massive work has most recently been analyzed, with extensive discussion of its debt to Gerson, in Stefan Podlech, Discretio: Zum Hermeneutik der religiösen Erfahrung bei Dionysius dem Kartäuser, Analecta Cartusiana 194 (Salzburg: Institut für Anglistik und Amerikanistik, Universität Salzburg, 2002). An extensive bibliography of early modern discernment treatises can be found in Joseph Pegon, “Discernement des esprits: période moderne,” DS 3:1266–81. 145 Elliott, Proving Woman, 200–1, shares my skepticism about the existence of this trial, which is said to have taken place in Lyons in 1424 (while Gerson was still alive and living there); all other considerations aside, it seems impossible that he would not have written about it elsewhere! The account of the supposed trial is appended to De examinatione in the 1706 edition of du Pin, Joannis Gersonii Opera Omnia, 1:19–20. 146 Cf. McGuire, “Late Medieval Care and Control of Women: Jean Gerson and His Sisters,” Revue d'histoire ecclésiastique 92 (1997): 35; and Montague Summers, “A Note upon the Bibliography of the Malleus Maleficarum,” in Summers’s edition and translation of the Malleus (London: John Rodker, 1928; reprint, London: Bracken Books, 1996), xvii-xviii. 144

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The use of Gerson’s discernment treatises in judicial contexts recognized some of the important contributions he had made: his effort to synthesize discernment traditions from several different areas into a coherent whole, his concern about the role the institutional Church should play in the lives of pious lay Christians, and his ongoing interest in how the reception and distribution of revelations affected readers and auditors throughout Christendom. But as instruments of inquisition, Gerson’s discernment treatises had to be read so as to obscure not only their principled insistence on the conditional nature of theological determinations, but also their increasingly strong mystical element. From De distinctione forward, Gerson showed a remarkable tenacity in his repeated insistence that “discernment of spirits” be properly treated as a gift of the Holy Spirit, despite the complications this introduced for any practical applications. Thinking more generally of mystical theology as a potential tool for reforming university, Church, and Christendom, Gerson placed spiritual experience at the center of his treatment of discernment. An ineffable encounter with the divine was to be expected not only of the visionary but also of his or her examiner, and this encounter (the “intimate taste”) was not only ungendered but could offer a level of certainty which wellmeaning but fallible theologians could not. Toward the end of De distinctione, Gerson argues against the judicium of an unnamed theological examiner with a striking metaphor: “I praise the judgment you have described, but I demand an experiential taste.” 147 This focus on experience is the most unusual (and perhaps the least appreciated) element of Gerson’s thought on discernment. In the end, Gerson certainly succeeded in popularizing and publicizing the idea of “discernment of spirits” as a way of distinguishing between true and false revelations, but the mystical elements he introduced into the process would have implications for the future reform of Christendom which Gerson himself could not have foreseen.

De distinctione, in Glorieux 3.54: “Laudo judicium tuum quale dixisti; sed experimentalem gustationem coexigo.” 147

Concluding Thoughts Late Medieval Discernment In late medieval Europe, a series of Christian thinkers devoted intense consideration and many manuscript pages to a single, critical question: how could anyone separate true visions or revelations from their false counterparts? This single question turned out to have multiple answers, and it developed into a complex, multifaceted, often internally inconsistent discourse which can be understood only in its historical context as a visionary discourse negotiating among multiple sources of authority for the right to determine what constituted a valid revelation. Patristic models for the discernment of spirits were varied to begin with, addressing overlapping categories of phenomena including prophecies, visions, and dreams. But medieval interest in the topic originated from a series of new challenges to the Church’s authority around the end of the twelfth century and blossomed in the wake of the equally challenging Great Western Schism two centuries later. The late medieval discourse on discernment of spirits which this study has traced included clerics and laypeople, hagiographers and polemicists, men and women. They responded to the challenges of discernment in the name of one or more sources of religious authority: Scripture, the Church Fathers, canon law, the church hierarchy, the consensus of trained theologians, the evidence of signs and miracles, the experience of a personal bond with Jesus Christ, and even the testimony of the Holy Spirit. They also addressed themselves to different sets of concerns, but whether it was Innocent III responding to self-proclaimed and unauthorized messengers of God, Birgitta of Sweden answering critics of her politicized visions, or Jean Gerson trying to end the Schism and restore the confidence of the faithful through a general council, the people who wrote about discernment of spirits in the late Middle Ages were all trying to strengthen those aspects of Christianity and Christendom which meant the most to them. They shared the characteristically medieval drive towards reform, but they developed it in different and fascinating directions. Ultimately, the late medieval discourse on discernment of spirits should be appreciated for its diversity and creativity as well as its historical significance.

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That historical significance was, however, more extensive than has been commonly realized. Prophets and visionaries played a major role in church history during the later Middle Ages, but the discernment of spirits played a major role in who was credited with prophetic or visionary abilities, and the concepts of “revelation” and “discernment of spirits” developed side by side. It is no coincidence that late medieval thinkers were repeatedly drawn to the question of how to discern spirits. Patristic luminaries such as Augustine, Cassian, Ambrosiaster, and Gregory had already offered interpretations of the discernment of spirits which addressed topics ranging from visions to dreams to monastic life. Their writings were more than sufficient for centuries, until the twelfth-century “rediscovery of prophecy” and the thirteenth-century explosion of “visionary mysticism” helped to change the ideological landscape of Christendom. Suddenly, members of the laity and women, whether lay or religious, were making new claims to religious authority, describing God’s presence in new terms, and using the developing vernacular languages of Europe. The institutional Church obviously needed some way to deal with these new agents, and its first noteworthy effort came in 1199, with Innocent III’s letter Cum ex iniuncto. When Cum ex iniuncto’s simple guidelines for proving divine inspiration passed into canon law in the 1230s, they might easily have ended any further debate on the matter, at least among theologians. But the matter turned out otherwise: Cum ex iniuncto and the canon law commentaries it bred flourished alongside other late medieval discernment traditions stemming from a series of historical crises in which the institutional Church’s authority was called into question. The thirteenth-century Franciscan authors David of Augsburg and Peter of John Olivi addressed the question of discerning spirits as they tried to reconcile their Order with the troubled legacy of Joachism and the threats of anti-mendicant polemicists like William of Saint-Amour. Early fourteenth-century debates over Olivi’s use of visions expanded outside the Order, to the point that amateur prognosticator and sometime visionary Arnald of Villanova defended Olivi as a witness of the Holy Spirit while the Augustinian theologian Augustinus of Ancona condemned not only Olivi and Arnald but the very possibility of contemporary prophecy. Meanwhile, Augustinus’ confrere Henry of Friemar drew on other debates from the late thirteenth century, considering the relative roles of nature and grace in the acquisition of knowledge and the application of natural reason to matters of faith as he identified four instincts which could influence human beings and suggested ways of identifying each one. Henry’s concerns ultimately fed into the Council of Vienne, where some of them were reified as the intellectually misguided, antinomian, undiscerning “heretics of the Free Spirit” who sought indistinct union with God. After the four-

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teenth-century Dominican theologian Meister Eckhart became identified with the Free Spirits, a new generation of thinkers indebted to Eckhart marshaled the concept of discernment of spirits in an effort to distinguish themselves from the heretics who had become their intellectual doppelgängers. Dominicans Henry Suso and John Tauler, along with the Dutch priest Jan van Ruusbroec and the anonymous author of the Buch von Geistlicher Armuth, were able to exploit the possibilities of Germanic vernacular languages in which “discernment” and “distinction” were translated by the same word. Between the 1320s and the 1370s, these men evolved related but very different sets of (mostly) vernacular guidelines for distinguishing orthodox seekers of God from their heretical counterparts, emphasizing lifestyle over doctrine as a deciding factor. The Rhineland thinkers focused on the challenges of lay spirituality and directed their message to lay and female audiences as well as the traditional male religious community. But even without direct influence from these works, figures without formal theological training had begun to take up the discernment question during the second half of the fourteenth century. The visionary reformers Birgitta of Sweden and Catherine of Siena both made discernment of spirits part of their claims to genuine divine authorization, and both grounded their discernment abilities in personal and profoundly experiential relationships with Christ. When Catherine and Birgitta, along with fellow visionary Pedro of Aragon, finally convinced the papacy to move back from Avignon to Rome, the ensuing Great Western Schism threw the topic of prophecy and its discontents into even sharper focus. The Schism placed new stress on the presence of both true prophets (who were being sought to predict when the Schism would end and whether it would end with Antichrist) and false prophets (who were certainly part of the scriptural forecast for the era just before Antichrist and who were easily identified if they failed to pick the right dates for the Schism). Proponents of Birgitta, Pedro, and Catherine found themselves arguing for their visionaries’ status as true prophets against apparent proof that the visionaries had split the Church apart instead of healing it as they had promised to do. The Schism also opened up new opportunities for professional theologians, who seized the opportunity to claim the discernment of spirits as their own prerogative. In the early years of the Schism, Parisian luminaries Henry of Langenstein and Pierre d’Ailly penned the first stand-alone treatises on the topics of discerning spirits and identifying false prophets. Langenstein and d’Ailly tended to oppose claims of prophetic authority with a weighty edifice of theory designed to promote the rival claims of theologians as arbiters of the Christian faith. Their schemes were often less than practical, but their systematic approach to the topic produced some surprises, as

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when they concluded that there was no scripturally-based method to reach absolute certainty about the divinely inspired nature of a specific vision. Finally, and perhaps inevitably, a theologian made the attempt to synthesize the varied medieval discernment traditions in order to use them as part of a larger program of church reform. D’Ailly’s protégé and lifelong friend Jean Gerson, Chancellor of the University of Paris during the latter two-thirds of the Schism and a key figure in its resolution, dedicated three major treatises and numerous minor works to the topic of discerning spirits. Throughout his extensive discernment oeuvre, as he responded to specific questions and situations, Gerson tried to balance the conflicting guidelines from his sources with his own lifelong commitment to reform and his scripturally founded insistence on placing the Holy Spirit and spiritual experience at the center of discretio spirituum. Some of the results of Gerson’s efforts were regrettable: arguing against Birgitta of Sweden’s claims to divine inspiration, Gerson introduced wholesale condemnations of female visionary activity into the discernment discourse for the first time. However, he also followed Birgitta and other female visionaries in grounding the ability to discern spirits in a gender-neutral encounter with God’s presence. This recourse to mystical experience as the only true grounds for certainty constantly undermined Gerson’s attempts to appropriate discernment for university-trained theologians, vest it in the church hierarchy, or reduce it to a series of practical precepts. In the end, it seems, Gerson had synthesized the late medieval discourse on the discernment of spirits without solving the problems which gave rise to it. But he certainly succeeded in popularizing the topic; within a few decades of his death in 1429, a score of new works had been devoted to the subject now generally called “the discernment of spirits.”

The Future of Discernment Throughout Gerson’s works, his reliance on spiritual experience runs headlong into his other concerns, most notably to establish some sort of institutional protocol for testing spirits, to reform the university and the Church, and to maintain Christian faith. Sometimes, it seemed, the promptings of the Spirit had to be ignored or downplayed, whether they came at the stage of initial revelation or the stage of testing. Sometimes the Spirit was unreadable or simply unavailable, and so a set of less accurate guidelines had to be used. In either case, absolute certainty was simply unobtainable. Yet Gerson never made this disjunction between ideal and reality as explicitly as it has been presented here. In keeping with his efforts at synthesis, he seems to have tried to incorporate spiritual experience into

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the other discernment traditions he invoked and used. Future interpreters of Gerson took their cues from him in this as well: sometimes they acknowledged the problem of experience, as three of Joan’s judges did, but they ultimately set experience aside in favor of a reform agenda, however misguided, and a practical focus on Gerson’s lists of questions and qualifications. They glossed over the inconsistencies in the tradition and admitted that discernment processes had occasionally made mistakes without allowing themselves to draw more general conclusions. They sought what spiritual certainty they could through the Church’s hierarchy or through specific protocols rather than through charismatic individual discerners, but the route of direct appeal to the Holy Spirit remained open, in theory if not in practice. As late as 1495, the Florentine reformer and selfproclaimed prophet Girolamo Savonarola could defend his own charismatic status by writing that “I have read the sacred Scriptures and the lives and teachings of the saints from beginning to end, through which I understand well enough all the signs of diabolic as well as divine apparitions; and I understand how much one apparition differs from another, not only through these teachings, but also through experience.” 1 But Savonarola’s appeal to experience was no more successful than Gerson’s; he was burned as a heretic in 1498. In the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries, following a judicial reading of Gerson’s work, the discernment of spirits became increasingly a process of institutionally grounded examination rather than a private self-examination or an ineffable experience. It also became more rigid, as Gerson’s qualifications about the need for experiential certitude were increasingly ignored. The gulf between visionaries and examiners seemed to widen. Yet potential claims of inspiration by the Holy Spirit continued to destabilize claims to hierarchical authority. In 1516, the Fifth Lateran Council summed up these developments as it inveighed against a certain class of all-toofamiliar preachers and their “invented miracles, new and false prophecies, and other frivolities” 2 in yet another effort at reform: Without any reverence for the testimony of canon law, indeed contrary to canonical censures, twisting the sense of Scripture in many places, often giving it rash and false Girolamo Savonarola, Compendio di rivelazioni, ed. Angela Crucitti, Compendio di rivelazioni: Testo volgare e latino e Dialogus de veritate prophetica (Rome: A. Belardetti, 1974), 35: “io ho lette le Scritture dal principio insino a la fine e le vite de’ santi passati e le loro dottrine, per le quale ho inteso sufficientemente tutte le condizione delle apparizione diabolice e etiam divine; e non solamente per dottrina, ma etiam per esperienzia cognosco quanta differenzia è tra l’una e la’atra apparizione.” This excerpt is also cited in Sluhovsky, Believe Not Every Spirit, 179. 2 Fifth Lateran Council, Circa modum praedicandi, in Tanner, Decrees, 1:636: “conficta miracula et nova ac falsa vaticinia, aliaque levia.” 1

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interpretations, they preach what is false; they threaten, describe, and assert to be present, totally unsupported by legitimate proofs and merely following their own private interpretation, various terrors, menaces, and many other evils, which they say are about to arrive and are already growing; they very often introduce to their congregations certain futile and worthless ideas and other matters of this nature; and, what is more appalling, they dare to claim that they possess this information from the light of eternity and by the guidance and grace of the Holy Spirit. 3

The council pointed out that “such things give rise to great scandal since they ignore devotion and authority” 4 and decreed that all claims of divine revelation should be “tested” through examination by either the apostolic see or (in cases of extreme local urgency) “three or four learned and serious men.” 5 Any proceedings contrary to this rule were to be punished not only according to the usual civil and canon law but also by permanent exclusion from the office of preaching and by immediate excommunication. 6 Strikingly, however, Fifth Lateran refers to neither discernment nor certitude, and its pronouncements on the topic have a certain defensive air: “We therefore desire… to restore that uniformity which has been neglected, and to preserve such as remains, insofar as we can with God’s help.” 7 Ironically, Fifth Lateran seems to have tried to divorce the language of discernment from the task of reform. While Fifth Lateran is generally singled out for its failure to head off the Protestant Reformation, it also failed spectacularly to affect the proliferation of false prophets and unlicensed preachers during the sixteenth century. Indeed, Susan Schreiner has argued that the sixteenth-century “wave of spiritualism in all its various forms meant that the injunction… to test the spirits became a shared concern belonging to both sixteenthcentury Catholicism and Protestantism.” 8 If the Reformation era brought Ibid, 1:635: “[D]um sine ulla canonum attestatione, vel reverentia, imo contra ipsas canonicas sanctiones, sacrae Scripturae sensum multifarium pervertentes, temereque ac perperam plerumque interpretantes, contra veritatem praedicare, terroresque ac minas, multaque mala prope diem affutura, iamque ingruentia, nulla prorsus legitima ratione muniti, sed suo dumtaxat sensui obsequentes, comminantur, repraesentant adesseque asseverant, plerumque etiam vana quaedam et inania et alia huiusmodi populis ingerere, et quod enormius est, ab aeternitatis lumine, et sancti Spiritus admonitione aut infusione illa se habere asserere audent.” 4 Ibid., 1:636: “magnumque scandalum parientia, nulla devotionis et auctoritatis.” 5 Ibid., 1:636–7, citing 1 John 4:1. The quote comes from 1:637: “tribus aut quatuor doctis et gravibus viris.” 6 Ibid., 1:638. 7 Ibid., 1:636: “Nos igitur … uniformitatem, quantum cum Deo possumus posthabitam reducere, et retentam conservare, quique populo verbum Dei praedicant, tales esse cupientes.” 8 Susan Schreiner, Are You Alone Wise?: The Search for Certainty in the Early Modern Era (New York: Oxford University Press, 2010), 270. Schreiner argues that the late 3

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with it new questions of certainty and uncertainty, the problems of prophecy and visionary activity it encountered seem strangely familiar from a medieval perspective. Martin Luther, who read from many of the foundational figures of the late medieval discernment traditions, identified Gerson as the primary medieval exponent of Anfechtung, or (spiritual) temptation. 9 Of course, Catholic propagandists promptly identified Luther himself as a false prophet, and the discourse of and about what constituted true spiritual inspiration occupied both sides of the emerging Reformation. 10 Erasmus’s debate with Luther addressed, among other things, the question of discernment of spirits, and Ignatius Loyola’s famous passages on discernment of spirits in his Ejercicios can be traced not only to figures ranging from Origen through Gerson but also to Erasmus’s 1522 Paraphrasis in evangelium Matthaei. 11 At the same time, prophecy continued to be an especially dangerous method for expressing political discontent; if Savonarola was its most famous fifteenth-century example, its sixteenth-century exponents included the short-lived Anabaptist leader Thomas Müntzer, while England executed Elizabeth Barton, the “Holy Maid of Kent,” when she insisted that God disapproved of King Henry VIII’s divorce plans. 12 And familiarmedieval discourse on the discernment of spirits fed directly into the sixteenth century’s new crises of “authority, the need for certainty, and the appeals to the Spirit” (ibid.). 9 Cf. Heiko Oberman, “Simul Gemitus et Raptus: Luther and Mysticism,” in his The Dawn of the Reformation, 136–7. For more on the relations between Luther and Gerson, cf. Steven Ozment, Homo Spiritualis: A Comparative Study of the Anthropology of Johannes Tauler, Jean Gerson, and Martin Luther (Leiden: Brill, 1969) and Walter Dress, Die Theologie Gersons: Eine Untersuchung zur Verbindung von Nominalismus und Mystik im Spätmittelalter (Gütersloh: C. Bertelsmann, 1931). 10 This is amply demonstrated throughout Sluhovsky, Believe Not Every Spirit. 11 Erasmus’s Paraphrasis on Matthew has yet to be published in the ongoing Omnia opera Desiderii Erasmi edition from Brill, so it must be consulted in volume 7 of the Omnia opera of Joannes Clericus (Leiden: Vander Aa, 1703-6) and in an excellent translation, Paraphrase on the Gospel of Matthew, Collected Works of Erasmus 45, ed. Robert D. Sider and trans. Dean Simpson (Toronto: University of Toronto Press, 1998). On the Erasmus-Luther controversy in terms of discretio spirituum and the effect it had on Loyola’s Ejercicios, cf. Marjorie O’Rourke Boyle, “Angels Black and White: Loyola’s Spiritual Discernment in Historical Perspective,” Theological Studies 44 (1983): 241–57. On Loyola’s debt to Gerson, cf. Roth, Discretio Spirituum, 339–78. 12 On Savonarola and prophecy, a useful treatment is Bruno Pinchard, “Jérôme Savonarole entre la scolastique et l’humanisme: les doutes d’un prophète,” Revue des Sciences Philosophiques et Théologiques 72 (1988): 227–40. On Müntzer, cf. the classic The Radical Reformation by George Williams (Philadelphia: Westminster Press, 1962) and Cornelius Dyck, “The Life of the Spirit in Anabaptism,” Mennonite Quarterly Review 47 (1973): 309–26. On Barton and other English prophetesses, cf. Diane Watt, Secretaries of God: Women Prophets in Late Medieval and Early Modern England (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1997). One could also cite sixteenth-century cases ranging from William Hackett to Catarina de Raconsi to Lucrecia de León.

232

Concluding Thoughts

sounding concerns about antinomian mystics and their claims to divine illumination provoked the alumbrado (or “Illuminist”) controversy in sixteenth-century Spain and the Quietist debate in seventeenth-century France. 13 Among Protestants, the reduction of tradition to the Bible and its Spirit-driven interpretation led to similar problems, as radical factions argued for an indwelling of the spirits, and as “discernment of spirits” was frequently invoked. 14 In Catholic countries, the task of discernment was allocated first to oneself and one’s confessor (following Loyola’s Ejercicios) but then to the church hierarchy, which Michel de Certeau has characterized as dedicated to “the endless task of ‘discernment,’ the struggle against deception.” 15 Like their medieval counterparts, these early modern approaches never entirely succeeded in putting an end to the problem of potentially false prophets or deluded visionaries, or the conflict between prophetic and priestly authority. There is still ample room for Christians today to claim that they are inspired by the Holy Spirit and need no judge but themselves, or that their interior certainty outweighs charges against their manner of living. There is also space for numerous contemporary debates on the role of prophecy within Christianity, the conflicting claims of hierarchy and charisma, the part women should play in church life, and the need to consider the good of all believers in making controversial decisions. Nor are these exclusively Christian preoccupations; most of them apply to at least some other major religious traditions, and a few hold obvious relevance even for secularists. Looking back across the centuries to late medieval thinkers, we may recognize in our own era many of the same contradictions that appeared in theirs, but we must credit them with some recognition of these contradictions as well. The late medieval discourse on the discernment of spirits shaped future discussions on the topic, but it also offers an example of vibrant, varied, relatively inclusive, and remarkably open-ended exchanges on a key religious question. If prophecy is, as George Eliot famously and equivocally wrote, “the most gratuitous” form of mistake, it may be that discernment of spirits is the most gratuitous form of understanding.

On alumbrados, cf. Alvaro Huerga, Historia de los alumbrados (Madrid: Fundación Universitaria Española, 1978); on Quietism, cf. Jacques Le Brun, Le quiétisme entre la modernité et l’archaïsme (Leiden: Brill, 1983). On the similarities between the two movements, cf. Sluhovsky, Believe Not Every Spirit, 97–136. 14 For some specifically English Puritan examples, cf. Geoffrey Nuttall, The Holy Spirit in Puritan Faith and Experience (Oxford: Basil Blackwell, 1947; reprinted Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1992), 34–47. 15 Michel de Certeau, The Mystic Fable, 98; on the examiners generally, 79–112. 13

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