The role of Mirabilia in liTeraTure produced
by courTier clerics in 12
ThcenTury england
Idalia Smoczyk-Jackowiak ORCID: 0000-0002-1483-0588
Akademia Pomorska Słupsk, Polska idalia.smoczyk@apsl.edu.pl
Key words: mirabilia, the marvelous, courtier clerics, Angevin court, werewolves
Fish with golden teeth, an ox-man, a woman with a beard and a mane, a lady changing into a dragon and flying away, driads dancing at night, werewolves, vam-pires, dead men walking, fairy subterranean kingdoms, or islands where people never die – these are only few examples of mirabilia recorded in the works of courtier clerics in 12th century England. In medieval western Europe the word mirabilia corresponded
to the contemporary notion of the marvelous, and it referred rather to a collection of separate objects than to a single, unified category. The etymology of the Latin word
mirabilis points to something visual, as in mirum, mirror, mirari, or in English mirror
[Le Goff 1992: 27]. Therefore, it is common to associate the marvelous phenomena with strange or amazing images which can be scrutinized with eyes wide open, looked at, or gazed at. The visual aspect of marvels witnessed in Ireland is expressed by Ger-ald of Wales when he assures the king, Henry II Plantagenet: “I soon found occasion to remark [observe] many things which are quite different to what is found in other countries, and, being quite strange, are for their novelty much to be wondered at” [Giraldus Cambrensis 2000: 6]. The visual quality of mirabilia, however, may also imply a possibility of a mirage, an optical illusion, or a figment of imagination.
The marvelous in literature and historiography had a long, pre-Christian tradi-tion, dating back to Antiquity. Therefore, the educated clerics, who had solid Latin training and extensive knowledge of ancient Greek and Roman literature, felt free to refer creatively to the world of ancient semi-gods, nymphs, fauns and driads [Curtius 2005: 193-197; Schwieterman 2010: 23; Wood 1992: 58]. However, their most impor-tant source of inspiration was oral, Celtic material, still vibrant on the fringes of the
Nr 9 SS. 145-158 2019
ISSN 2083-5485
© Copyright by Institute of Modern Languages of the Pomeranian University in Słupsk
Original research paper received: 7.06.2019
accepted: 8.10.2019
Angevin Empire: in the Welsh Marches or in the freshly conquered Irish territories. Fairies living in lakes and forests, fairy-like creatures inhabiting mysterious under-world or cups made from obscure substances belong to the Celtic repository [Faletra 2014: 167; Rigg 1992: 92; Schwieterman 2010: 14, 22; Short 2007: 348; Wood 1992: 59, 60]. Finally, it should be emphasized that supernatural elements were present also in 10th and 11th century English historical writing [Southern 1962: 263; Short 2007:
340, 348, 349; Thompson 1954: 255, 256; Rigg 1992: 41-51]. A classic example of this tendency is the inclusion of Hellequin’s Wild Hunt by an Anglo-Norman monk, Orderic Vitalis (1075-1142) in his Ecclesiastical History [Orderic Vitalis 1983: 242]. One century later, the image of ghostly hordes of huntsmen raiding English country-side was taken over and reworked by Walter Map, a cleric from the closest milieu of Henry II Plantagenet [Walter Map 2002: 26-31, 370, 371]. By referring to that tradi-tion, courtier clerics placed themselves firmly in the historical context and provided a sense of literary and historical continuity [Bartlett 2006: 13].
It seems that mirabilia included in the works produced at the Angevin court had a double role, playing both, a religious and a political function. This twofold role of mirabilia resulted from the ambiguous status of courtier clerics themselves, who existed on the borderline between the religious and secular sphere [Bartlett 2006: 12; Walter Map 2002: XIX; Otter 1996: 124]. They belonged to the clerical state and received minor or major orders. Moreover, they pursued their university education as clerics and studied theology and canon law [Walter Map 2002: XV]. Both, Gerald of Wales and Walter Map, were archdeacons and strove to obtain episcopal nominations [Rigg 1992: 88, 94; Walter Map 2002: XVIII]. Gerald hoped to become bishop of St David’s [Bartlett 2006: 24; Morgan 1982: 105] and Walter’s ambitions centered on the bishopric of Hereford. However, in addition to being clergymen, they entered royal service and pursued secular career. They acted as royal clerks and took part in diplomatic missions, protecting domestic and international interests of the Crown. Walter Map worked as an itinerant justice in the newly formed Angevin Empire and as
Henry II’s emissary to Luis VII of France and Pope Alexander III [Walter Map 2002: XVI-XVIII]. Similarly, Gerald of Wales, apart from being Henry Plantagenet’s chap-lain, acted as negotiator between the Crown and the Welsh prince Rhys ap Gruffydd. Later, in 1185, he was sent by the king to accompany his son John on his first military expedition to Ireland. Finally, in 1188 he was chosen to accompany Baldwin, the archbishop of Canterbury on a tour of Wales, which was a recruitment mission for the Third Crusade and had an important political aim [Bartlett 2006: 21]. In effect of their ambivalent position, those courtier clerics had to share their loyalties between Church and state [Jaeger 1991: 15; Walter Map 2002: XIX]. Not fully devoted to religious matters, they were criticized by such ecclesiastical scholars as John of Salisbury. Not fully secular, yet living at the royal court, they felt like outsiders in the environment dominated by courtiers from upper feudal classes [Bartlett 2006: 13; Otter 1996: 126]. As a result, those secular clerics wrote texts in which they used various strategies to
convey a religious Christian perspective and to secure political interests of the House of Anjou. Mirabilia proved to be a useful tool helping them to fulfill both aims.
Due to the fact that most of the marvels in question had a pre-Christian or an-ti-Christian origin [Le Goff 1992: 28] and opposed the official teachings of the Catho-lic Church, courtier clerics strove either to adapt them to the official doctrine, or at least to weaken their subversive character. Oddities, such as half-human, half animal creatures, like humanoid apparitions with legs descending into goat’s hooves, men with ox’s hooves in place of hands and feet, or people transforming into wolves or hawks evoked shock and horror. As Jacques le Goff notices, allowing the possibility of humans degenerating to the level of brute beasts defied the idea of man as the im-age of God, and as such was abhorrent to the medieval mind [Le Goff 1992: 32, 35, 36]. What is more, the possibility of returning to life after death as a fairy, vampire, or a ghost was unthinkable for Catholic clergy, as it questioned the finality of human life. Finally, ghostly phantasms and hybrid creatures undermined rationality which was inherent in Christian outlook on life and which formed the basis of medieval scholasticism. Thus, the Christianization of marvels was in tune with the mission of the Church.
One of the ways of presenting marvels from the Christian perspective was imbu-ing them with moral significance. For example, the story of an ox-man, recorded by Gerald of Wales in his Topographia Hibernica, served a moral purpose of warning against horrid consequences of bestiality. The ox-man lived in the court of Maurice Fitzgerald, in the neighborhood of Wicklow in Ireland:
… the whole of [his] body was human, except the extremities, which were those of an ox; they having the shape of hoofs, from the joints by which the hands are connected with the arms and the feet with the legs. His whole head was deformed by baldness, there being no hair either behind or before; but instead of it there was down in a few places. He had large eyes, round and of the colour of those of an ox. His face was flat down to the mouth, there being no protuberance of the nose, but only two orifices to serve for nostrils. He could not speak, the sounds he uttered resembling the lowing of an ox [Giraldus Cambrensis 2000: 47].
This unsettling description is complemented with a visual image which is included in the margin of the manuscript. As the man is naked, his deformed body and ox-like limbs can be seen clearly. His nudity points to his animal nature [Mittman 2003: 101], which is further emphasized by his big, round, vacant eyes and inability to speak. As a freak of nature, he was kept in Maurice’s court for years, but in the end he was se-cretly killed by “the natives of the country,” although, as Gerald remarks, he did not deserve such fate. It is suggested that such monstrous births were the result of bestial intercourse with cattle and goats [Bartlett 2000: 684; Knight 2001: 61-64], and ac-cording to Gerald, the Irish were particularly afflicted with this vice. Intercourse with animals, treated as an unnatural, carnal act and a mortal sin, was harshly condemned by the Church. Gerald suggests that it might transform humans performing it into brute beasts, since unnatural conception could result in deformed births. In fact, the misshapen ox-man looks like a mockery of the divine act of Creation. According to Mittman, he defies any attempts of categorization: neither fully human, nor animal, he
is perceived as a monstrosity [Mittman 2003: 102]. Gerald recognizes this ambiguity, when he writes: “there was seen a man-monster, if he may be called a man…”. His very existence serves as an alarming admonition against dangers of sinful relations, which may produce such sinister hybrids.
Another way of adapting marvels into a Christian framework was placing them in the context of the Catholic faith, and saturating them with religious overtones. A story of the werewolves of Ossory, reported by Gerald of Wales in Topographia
Hiberni-ca, links the pagan, folkloric motif of metamorphosis of men into beasts with purely
Catholic elements of confession, absolution, holy communion, eternal salvation and the communion of the saints. Marvelous events recounted by Gerald take place in Ireland, on the borders of Meath, three years before John’s expedition and Gerald’s arrival on the island in 1185. A certain priest traveling from Ulster to Meath and ac-companied only by a little boy, spends a night in the woods, by the fire. Suddenly, to his amazement, a strange wolf comes up to him and speaks in human language, asking him not to be afraid and talking about God. The priest is astounded and wants to know what kind of creature the wolf is, “that in the shape of a beast uttered human words”. The wolf, after giving Catholic answers in various issues, explains:
There are two of us, a man and a woman, natives of Ossory, who, through the curse of one Natalis, saint and abbot, are compelled every seven years to put off the human form, and depart from the dwellings of men. Quitting entirely the human form, we assume that of wolves. At the end of the seven years, if they chance to survive, two others being substituted in their places, they return to their country and their former shape [Giraldus Cambrensis 2000: 44].
The woman-wolf, however, got seriously ill and could not finish her penitential pil-grimage. Her male companion, alarmed that she may die without receiving the holy communion, begs the priest to grant her consolation. When the terrified priest sees the she-wolf “pouring forth human sighs and groans,” he is struck with compassion and agrees to perform the last rites over her. To reassure the priest that he is not commit-ting blasphemy, the male-wolf approaches his partner and pulls down her wolf skin, revealing “the form of an old woman”. The priest, horrified and feeling that what he has just seen evades logical explanation, completes the rites with giving the wom-an-wolf the viaticum, which she receives piously. As the whole matter is theologically doubtful, the priest is summoned to a synod in Meath. We are not informed about the final decision, though, because the bishop, on Gerald’s advice, decides to send the priest with all documentation properly sealed, to Rome, to report the affair before the Pope.
It seems that Gerald manages to provide a Christian interpretation of the issue of human-animal transformation. In the case of the werewolves of Ossory problems with categorization are not as sharp as with the ox-man from Wicklow. Their metamorpho-sis is purely external and does not violate the Christian doctrine of man created as an image of God. They never became animals, but only obtained the appearance of ani-mals, which is perfectly illustrated by the image of the wolf, which miraculously pulls
the skin off his female companion, folding it back with his paw, and exposing the hu-man being underneath. The wolf skin covers a wohu-man who retained all her intellectual powers, the ability of reasoning, human emotions and the ability of speech. As Dubost suggests, “the skin is a metaphor for appearance” [Dubost 1991: 546]. Their wolf-ish appearance is only a skin-deep disguise concealing people with strong spiritual needs. In fact, their belief in the afterlife and in the divine mercy is so profound that it determines their choices. When they face a serious disease they look for the priest rather than for the doctor and they are willing to risk their lives in order to obtain holy sacraments. Overpowering yearning for God distinguishes them from the world of animals. Thus, it is clear that the people of Ossory changed only their physical shape, but their humanity remained untouched. What is more, their transformation was not only superficial, but also temporary, limited to the period of seven years, after which they were free to return to their human form. In this aspect, Gerald’s tale is different from stories about werewolves recorded by his contemporaries, Gervase of Tilbury or Marie de France, where the metamorphosis of humans into wolves is complete: not only physical, but also constitutional, and not restricted to any specific timespan. Fi-nally, the Christian context of the tale is emphasized by the expiatory character of the transformation of the people of Ossory into wolves. Their fate is inflicted upon them miraculously by “one saint”, as a punishment for the sins of the whole community. Compelled to go into exile from their native land and from their bodily shape, they take the blame for their community’s transgressions. As Sconduto notices, they take the role of scapegoats, cast into the wilderness to atone for the sins of their people [Sconduto 2008 : 33]. Thus, the inherent humanity of the Ossory werewolves, their longing for Christ illustrated by the pious reception of the holy sacraments, their sac-rifice for others, and saintly origin of the imprecation cast on them, provide the tale with a powerful Christian message.
Through his tale of the werewolves of Ossory, Gerald takes part in the medieval discussion of the boundaries of humanity. According to Bartlett, this text opens up important questions about the definition of man and the criteria of humanity [Bartlett 2000: 685]. Such questions have been resonating since the times of Antiquity. Homer writes about Circe turning Odysseus’s men into pigs. Ovid collects numerous trans-formation stories in his Metamorphoses. The topic appears also in Celtic myths and legends. Gerald of Wales, however, attempts to present a standpoint which would be in compliance with the Catholic dogma. Therefore, in discussing this issue, he refers to the views of St Augustine, who relates some werewolf legends in his City
of God. Augustine formulates his own theory of metamorphosis, according to which
shape-changing, such as lycanthropy, was within God’s power. With God’s permis-sion, transformation of the appearance of some species is possible, and it does not imply the transformation of their nature:
We agree, then, with Augustine, that neither demons nor wicked men can either create or really change their natures; but those whom God has created can, to outward appear-ance, by his permission, become transformed, so that they appear to be what they are not [Giraldus Cambrensis 2000: 46; St Augustine 1965: 40-49 (bk 16, chap. 8)].
In effect, those who claim that they saw a werewolf could have fallen prey to mere illusion. What they truly saw was a phantasm, as their senses could have been deluded by magic or other form of supernatural intervention. In the case of the Ossory were-wolves, only their outward appearance was transformed, but inside they retained their humanity and deeply spiritual longings.
Gerald of Wales continues his considerations with drawing a parallel between nat-ural marvels and miraculous events being a part of the Catholic doctrine, a strategy which he often uses in Topographia Hibernica. Mirabilia, or irregularities of nature, might have a spiritual purpose: they may prepare the mind of an observer for accept-ing miracles described in the Bible, or caused by the saints. The description of the Os-sory werewolves precedes Gerald’s ponderings on divine transformations, especially on the mystery of the transubstantiation of the Eucharist. Almighty God was able to transform Lot’s wife into a pillar of salt, water into wine, and finally, the greatest mys-tery of all, the bread into the body of Christ [Giraldus Cambrensis 2000: 46]. Gerald is careful, however, not to draw this parallel too closely and he admits that it is safest to leave this matter unresolved, because human intellect is not able to grasp it [Giraldus Cambrensis 2000: 47]. Moreover, he seems to be aware of serious deficiencies of such comparison. The Ossory werewolves change their appearance only, but their essence remains unchanged, while the opposite is true for the Eucharist: the form of bread and wine stays the same, but their substance changes. Moreover, the transformation of men into beasts could be a mere illusion, while the transubstantiation of bread into flesh is true and real. Despite the fact, that Gerald finally distances himself from too close parallels, he is successful at providing the motif of shape-changing with Christian implications. The man-beast transformations are a prodigy of nature, which should direct human intellect to more serious matters of faith and religion. According to Gerald, it might be one of the reasons why such marvels were permitted by God.
Gerald of Wales was not the only courtly writer who aimed at the Christianization of the marvelous. Also Walter Map, a courtier Gerald was acquainted with, tried to provide his anecdotes with a Christian interpretation. In the second distinction of
De nugis curialium, he records a tale of a Northumbrian knight, who is visited by
the ghost of his diseased father [Walter Map 2002: 206, 207]. The tale belongs to a larger group of stories about the dead returning to earth and haunting the living. The knight, sitting alone in his house, and enjoying the summer evening, suddenly notices his father, clad in ragged shroud, as if he has just left his grave. Convinced that he has seen the devil, the man tries to drive the apparition away, but he changes his mind when his father speaks to him: “Dearest son, fear not. I am your father, and I bring you no ill; but call the priest and you shall learn the reason of my coming”. The priest is summoned, and comes to the knight’s house, surrounded by the crowd of people curious to see a prodigy. The ghost throws himself at his feet and explains that many years before he was excommunicated for “unrighteous withholding of tithes”. However, “common prayers of the church and the alms of the faithful” helped him to receive God’s grace. In effect, he is permitted to seek absolution. The priest absolves him immediately, and the ghost, accompanied by “a great train of people following”,
returns to his grave, which closes over him. Walter Map finishes this tale with a com-ment which expresses his doubt about the congruity of this tale with the teachings of the Church: “This new case has introduced a new subject of discussion into the books of divinity” [Walter Map 2002: 206, 207].
Although the tale of the Northumbrian knight belongs to a wider group of Map’s stories about revenants, it is unique in its treatment of the topic. Other anecdotes usu-ally describe the revived dead who come out of their graves to terrorize the local pop-ulace [Bartlett 2000: 612; Summers 2012: 92]. Vampiric corpses, wandering at night and killing the living, evoke terror on the part of the villagers, who seek help from the local clergy. In the story about the Northumbrian knight, however, the demonic ele-ment is absent. The father is not an evil spirit with devilish intentions, but a suffering soul of a sinner, who was given a second chance due to the prayers and sacrifices of the faithful. He returns to earth not to kill, torture and spread panic, but to beg for forgive-ness. When he falls at the feet of the priest and humbly asks for absolution, he behaves like a repentant sinner who understood the gravity of his transgressions and trusts in God’s mercy. It seems that he is allowed to return to his people in his physical form for their edification and moral improvement. His very presence is a visible proof of the truth of the Catholic religion and Church’s teachings about the afterlife, purgatory and the spiritual power of the priests. In fact, he is seen by a big crowd of people who are witnesses of his confession and absolution. They can see that it is only the priest, who, through the power of the Church, can absolve his sins and offer consolation to his tormented soul. God’s forgiveness is illustrated by the graphic image of the revenant’s return to his grave, which miraculously closes over him [Walter Map 2002: 206, 207].
Attempts at the Christianization of the marvelous sometimes posed certain difficul-ties. Walter Map remarks that the case of the Northumbrian knight’s father introduced a new debate among theologians. The possibility of granting posthumous absolution to a revenant was, to put it mildly, theologically doubtful, if not totally contrary to the Catholic doctrine. Moreover, such a prodigy posed a challenge to a scientifically orient-ed mind of a twelfth-century cleric, even despite the fact that the crorient-edibility of the pre-sented events was emphasized by the presence of reliable witnesses: a knight, a priest and a crowd of people. Still, the controversy concerning this case remains unresolved.
All in all, however, the tendency among the 12th century courtier clerics of
pro-viding a Christian interpretation of mirabilia cannot be disregarded. They strove to rewrite popular folklore legends from the standpoint of religion. As a result, they transformed stories of uncanny hybrids, bloodthirsty werewolves or fearsome reve-nants into tales about the redeeming role of suffering, the value of individual sacrifice, the need of expiation for communal sins and about the power of common prayers of the Church for both, the dead and the living.
Apart from the strictly religious role of marvels, their political function seems to be equally significant. They served as a useful tool for political propaganda: for le-gitimization of the rule of the new Plantagenet dynasty and justification of conquest of new territories. Finally, the inclusion of wonders from the Celtic “fringes of the world”, that is from Wales and Ireland, into courtly texts tied those territories more closely to the Angevin Empire.
First of all, mirabilia were used to support dynastic aspirations of the new rul-ing family, thus playrul-ing a role in English political life. The Plantagenets attempted to provide their dynasty with a myth of origin which would single them out from other noble families [Aurell 2007: 362, 382; Bartlett 2000: 684; Wood 1992: 59, 62]. Their claims to prestigious, supernatural ancestry are illustrated by an interesting po-litical marvel recorded by Gerald of Wales in De Principis Instructione, which links the House of Anjou with the Melusina legend [Le Goff 1992: 33; Short 2007: 346; Wood 1992: 58]. According to Gerald, the Plantagenets had devilish forebears, the fact which influenced the fate of the dynasty they established. He reports a fearsome story of “a certain countess of Anjou,” a woman of exquisite beauty but unknown origin, who hardly ever went to church, and when she did, she always left hurriedly before the consecration. Finally, her awkward behavior aroused the suspicions of her husband, who ordered four knights to detain her. The woman, however, managed to escape, and, catching two of her children, flew off out of the church window, “under the startled gaze of the onlookers”. Gerald of Wales rounds the story off with a refer-ence to Richard the Lion-Hearted: “This was a story that King Richard frequently told, adding that it was hardly surprising if, coming as they did from such a background, the sons were forever in conflict with their parents and the brothers with each other: from the Devil they all came, and to the Devil, he said, they would return” [Giraldus Cambrensis 1891: 301].
Thus, the devilish, “Melusinian” ancestry served as a political tool. It explained constant hostilities within the Plantagenet family, which culminated in the great re-bellion of Henry II’s sons and the imprisonment of his wife, and justified various con-troversial aspects of Richard’s policy. What is interesting, the marvelous in the story is associated with femininity. The nameless “countess of Anjou” seems to be a subtle allusion to Henry II’s wife, who, as Regine Pernoud notices, was called “a second Melusine” [Pernoud 1980: 7]. Thus, it is Eleanor of Aquitaine who is allegedly the carrier and transmitter of the fabulous pedigree of the Plantagenets. A female demon marks the royal dynasty with a supernatural touch, linking it with powers which are beyond human control. Having such otherworldly sanction of their kingship, the Plan-tagenets were to be feared and obeyed.
Mirabilia, especially those taken from the Celtic repository, were used also to
oppose the belief in king Arthur’s return from the Otherworld. Hopes that the myth-ical British king would come back one day to reclaim the territories occupied by the Anglo-Norman invaders, were widespread in Wales [Aurell 2007: 387, 392]. There-fore, the idea of using the figure of the Welsh hero as a propaganda weapon against the Welsh was bold, yet dangerous, and involved a certain dose of manipulation. The courtier clerics, however, took that risk and tried to counter the ideology of political arthurianism with stories suggesting Arthur’s ineptitude or irrevocable death [Aurell 2007: 384-386] . The best example of a tale in which the Arthurian legend is deprived of its politically dangerous potential, is the symbolic story of King Herla, includ-ed in the first distinction of Walter Map’s De nugis Curialium [Walter Map 2002: 26-31]. The story combines two popular supernatural motifs: the Celtic topic of the
Underworld and the folk Germanic myth of the Wild Hunt, with the Arthurian legend [Schwieterman 2010: 5, 21, 29]. Herla, the king of “the ancient Britons” [Walter Map 2002: 26, 27], accepts the invitation of a mysterious pygmy king and visits him in his subterranean kingdom. Three days, spent on lavish feasting with the fairy folk in the nether land, appear to be two hundred years of human time. Therefore, when Herla finally returns to his land, only an elderly shepherd can recognize his speech and remember old stories of the British king who entered a cave in the side of the cliff and disappeared, never to be seen again. From that time on, the Britons were driven away by the Anglo-Saxons, who, in turn, were subjugated by the Normans. Thus, Herla returns to the world which has changed and to the country which does not need him anymore. Even if he wanted to fight with the forces of Henry II, a ruler from the new Angevin dynasty, he would be unable to because he was transformed by the whimsical fairy king into a phantom leader of a ghostly troop, always on the verge of dissipating into dust. Unable to regain his kingdom and to liberate his people, and not even interested in the matter, he is sentenced to eternal wanderings on the British soil, resembling the wild pursuit of the spirits of huntsmen from the legendary Wild Hunt, yet deprived of their energy and vigour. In the final scene of the story, Herla-Arthur hands over his wanderings, and allegedly, also his power, to Henry II and his court, and disappears with his crew in the river Wye, in the neighborhood of Hereford in the Welsh Marches. The continuity of English kingship is preserved. The “king of the ancient Britons” gives up any claims to being a victorious resistance leader, and accepts the Angevin rule. Deprived of political power, he is, once and for all, buried in the waters of the Wye River. In this way, Walter Map manages to appropriate the Ar-thurian legend for the purposes of Plantagenet propaganda. The marvelous elements embedded in the story prove to be useful in turning Celtic myths to the advantage of the new royal dynasty [Schmitt 1984: 503-506], and in propagating stories thus trans-formed in the areas traditionally hostile to Henry II’ autocratic rule [Aurell 2007: 392]. The political role of marvels is probably most explicit in the writings of Gerald of Wales, especially in his Topographia Hibernica, which he dedicated to King Henry II, hoping to gain royal favour and patronage. He calls Henry Plantagenet the “most invincible king of England, duke of Normandy and Aquitaine, and count of Anjou” [Giraldus Cambrensis 2000: 6]. The book, written after the Angevin invasion of Ire-land in 1169, as a result of Gerald’s visit in the country undertaken at the command of the king, shows the history and topography of Ireland, as seen by a Norman, whose family was actively involved in the conquest [Bartlett 2006: 25-29], and who pursued a career at the Angevin court. In effect, Gerald provides a prejudiced account of the island, which justifies the invasion. Ireland is presented as a peripheral country, cul-turally inferior to England and filled with prodigies peculiar only to itself. It is a land of monsters, repulsive hybrids and other oddities, which point to marginality and monstrosity of the island [Cohen 2000: 85, 86; Mittman 2003: 106].
It seems that the peripheral location of those “farthest western lands”, separated from the civilized world by the “boundless space” of the ocean, is linked with the peculiar activities of nature, which is presented in the text as a personification and
a powerful, unpredictable force, both playful and whimsical. As Bartlett observes, it is a “powerful personified force one finds in Bernard Silvester or Alanus ab Insulis, not John of Salisbury’s ‘sequence of causes’” [Bartlett 2006: 99]. In fact, in the first introduction to Topographia, Gerald explains: “For sometimes, like one wearied with serious affairs and realities, she withdraws and retires for a little space, and, as it were, sportively employs herself with extraordinary freaks in secret parts reverently and mysteriously veiled” [Giraldus Cambrensis 2000: 6]. In effect, various marvels of nature are produced, such as an island on which no one can die, so the old and the mortally sick must be transported elsewhere to end their agony. Thus, the location determines the character and the behavior of all creatures inhabiting it.
According to Gerald, the distortions of the natural world specific to those regions result in perverse sexual activities of the Irish. He relates examples of bestiality at the court of the king of Connacht, where a certain woman had sexual intercourse with a goat which was entrusted to her care. Human-animal hybrids, resulting from such unions, evoked contempt on the part of the educated cleric. A woman with a beard and a horse’s mane on her back seems to be the most shocking example of such hybrids. Being neither fully human nor animal, feminine nor masculine, she transgressed boundaries and evaded classification [Brown 2002: 55; Mittman 2003: 101-103]. Hence, Gerald gives a biased account of a colonized country, peopled with lustful and perverted savages. According to Davenport, Gerald of Wales adopts a strategy which, is “a part of familiar rhetoric of classifying peoples as barbarian in order to justify conquest and occupation” [Davenport 2006: 139]. In fact, it appears that the subjuga-tion of the Irish by the Angevin invaders was inevitable and accepted by nature itself, which sent signals to the inhabitants of the island about the forthcoming invasion:
Not long before the time when the English came over to Ireland, a fish was found at Carlenford (Carlingford) in Ulster, of an immense size and an uncommon species. Among its other prodigies, it is reported that it had three golden teeth of fifty pounds weight. I should suppose that … the colour they assumed was a presage of the golden times of the future conquest immediately impending [Geraldus Cambrensis 2000: 40].
Thus, a fish with golden teeth is another marvel, which, along with other disquieting images of freakish hybrids and creepy locations, is used by Gerald to justify Angevin expansionism.
Finally, it is worthwhile to mention “a tale of wonder,” which seems to combine a political and Christian perspective. Walter Map records the story of an Anglo-Saxon magnate, Eadric the Wild, who comes across a company of fairies dancing at night in the woodland mansion [Walter Map 2002: 154-161, 348-351]. Falling in love with one of them, he rushes into the building, kidnaps her, and forces her into marriage. When news of that prodigy reach the royal court, William the Conqueror, the new king
of England, summons the pair to London to inspect the marvel. Thus, royal inspection becomes a tool of authentication of such supernatural phenomena [Otter 1996: 105]. The beauty of the woman serves as a proof of her fairy nature and evokes amazement of the king and his courtiers [Walter Map 2002: 156, 157, 348, 349]. One day,
how-ever, the fairy vanishes, leaving her husband and their son, Alnoth, who proves to be “a man of great holiness and wisdom” [Walter Map 2002: 158, 159].
Political exploitation of prodigy is attained by the use of a series of symbols. Ea-dric is a popular figure epitomizing the initial Anglo-Saxon resistance to the Norman invasion and eventual acceptance of the new rule. Defeated by William the Conqueror, he finally submitted to the Norman king [Walter Map 2002: 154; Wood 1992: 58]. Thus, the image of an Anglo-Saxon knight taking possession of a Celtic nymph and bringing her to the Norman court, integrates three national elements in the story. Yet, peaceful co-existence of the Celts, the Anglo-Saxons and the Normans is preceded by acts of sheer violence, bloodshed and brutal, physical rape. Eadric succeeds in forcing the fairy into obedience only after “a fierce struggle,” in consequence of which he gets “hurt in feet and legs by all that the nails and teeth of women could inflict” [Walter Map 2002: 156, 157]. Despite initial violence involved in the process, a union be-tween the conquerors and the conquered appears to be possible and productive, which is symbolized by the birth of Eadric’s son, Alnoth.
What is more, the figure of Alnoth is used to emphasize the Christian message of the text [Otter 1996: 121-123]. His very existence seems to be an inexplicable marvel, as he is a human son of an illusory apparition, which vanishes suddenly without a trace [Walter Map 2002: 158, 159, 350, 351]. Map recognizes this problem when he writes: “We have heard of demons that are incubi and succubi, and of the dangers of union with them; but rarely or never do we read in the old stories of heirs or offspring, of them, who ended their days prosperously, as did this Alnoth” [Walter Map 2002: 158, 159]. The problem of presence of real children of imaginary parents is discussed in the
next chapter: “Fantasma is derived from fantasia, i.e. a passing apparition, for the ap-pearances which occasionally devils make to some by their own power (first receiving leave of God), pass by with or without doing harm […]. But what do we say of those cases of “fantasy” which endure and propagate themselves in a good succession, as this of Alnoth […]?” [Walter Map 2002: 160, 161]. Walter cannot solve this problem. The only explanation he can offer is that God is to be praised even in such marvels, and that his works transcend human understanding. It is striking that Alnoth, despite his devilish descent, proves to be a pious man, cured by the saintly king and martyr Ethel-bert, before his altar in Hereford [Walter Map 2002: 158, 159, 350, 351; Wood 1992: 61, 58]. Grateful for his miraculous recovery, he presents his manor and all inheritance to the local bishop. The power of Christ is greater than the influence of the demons, and Alnoth spends “the rest of his life as a pilgrim in his service” [Walter Map 2002: 158, 159]. In this way, a pagan motif of a fairy captured by a mortal, is rewritten from
the standpoint of the Catholic religion, and provided with a Christian interpretation. To sum up, the contribution of courtier clerics, Walter Map and Gerald of Wales to the formation of 12th century courtly culture cannot be underestimated. Their mixed
Anglo-Norman or Norman-Welsh descent [Bartlett 2006: 19; Cohen 2000: 97; Daven-port 2006: 137] made them familiar with English historiography on the one hand and Celtic folklore, on the other [Short 2007: 348]. Moreover, their active participation in royal government service turned them into active agents of the Plantagenet kings.
Fi-nally, those clergymen, who obtained their education as clerics, and often performed religious duties at court, obviously maintained a Christian perspective and sought to propagate Christian ethical norms [Bumke 2000: 321-325]. In effect, their dual ethnic, social and professional status was reflected in their writings. Those “new men” from lower feudal classes, innovative and opminded, yet deeply rooted in tradition, en-riched English courtly culture, providing it with elements which made it unique and distinct from purely aristocratic culture of early Middle Ages. The originality of their writings rested to a great extent on mirabilia, and on the atmosphere of wonder and strangeness they produced.
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The role of mirabilia in literature produced by courtier clerics in 12th century england
The purpose of this paper is to prove that the marvelous phenomena described in the works of Gerald of Wales and Walter Map played a double, religious and political role. This twofold role of mirabilia resulted from the ambiguous position of courtier clerics, who seemed to exist on the borderline between the religious and secular sphere. Both, Gerald of Wales and Walter Map, were archdeacons and strove to obtain episcopal nom-inations. However, in addition to being clergymen, they pursued a secular career on the royal court. As a result, they wrote texts in which they used various strategies to convey a religious, Christian perspective and to secure political interests of the House of Anjou.
Mirabilia proved to be a useful tool helping them to achieve both aims. Thus, they strove
to rewrite old, pagan stories of werewolves, vampires or revenants from the standpoint of the Catholic religion, adapting them to the official doctrine, or at least weakening their subversive character. However, apart from the religious role of marvels, their political function seems to be equally significant. They served as a useful tool for political prop-aganda: for legitimization of the rule of the new Plantagenet dynasty and justification of conquest of new territories. Finally, the inclusion of wonders from the Celtic “fringes of the world”, that is from Wales and Ireland, into courtly texts tied those territories more closely to the Angevin Empire.
