Ambrosiana MS B44 Inferiore and an Easter Homily of Maximus of Turin


MS B44 Inferiore of Milanโ€™s Ambrosiana Library is an unstudied aestivial (summer season) homiliary from the thirteenth century. It is an exceptionally large manuscript, measuring approximately 40cm by 30cm. An eighteenth-century librarian of the Ambrosiana marked it as a homiliary of the โ€œAmbrosian rite,โ€ which is not a description meaningful for ascertaining the paradigms on which the homiliaryโ€™s structure is based. The invocation of the โ€œAmbrosian riteโ€ does, however, point to peculiarities in the Lombard regionโ€™s liturgical calendar which B44 might reflect. The homiliaryโ€™s reflection of local liturgical traditions could best be judged through a study of its โ€œsanctorumโ€ portion; this, however, was not the focus of my time with the manuscript. Despite its large size and length, the homiliary only spans the summer part of the liturgical year. Its de tempore section begins with the Easter Vigil and ends with the Feast of the Nativity of the Virgin. The Feast of Maryโ€™s Nativity was locally important since the Milanese Duomo was dedicated, from at least the eleventh century, to the Blessed Virginโ€™s birth.

            To familiarize myself with the manuscriptโ€™s structure and homiletic content, I surveyed the sermons it included for the Easter season (1v-52r), noting sermon incipits from Easter until Pentecost. Though for the sanctorale section, there are a wide variety of authors, the Easter de tempore section largely consists of homilies from Sts. Ambrose, Bede, Gregory, and Augustine. The sermon choices are, however, eclectic, and do not match the arrangement of the paradigmatic homiliaries summarized by Rรฉginald Grรฉgoire in his still-unsurpassed Homรฉliaires Liturgiques Mรฉdiรฉvaux. In short, MS Inf. B44โ€™s Easter sermons do not match those included in the Roman and Toledan homiliaries, nor those in the collections of Pseudo-Fulgencius, Paul the Deacon, or Romain dโ€™Agimond. As far as contemporary homiletic developments go, Inf. B44 also is far removed from the pocket-manuscript homiliaries popular among the mobile mendicants; more generally, the patristic collection of Easter homilies here does not reflect high medieval developments in preaching. No โ€œscholasticโ€ sermons based around themae are included, nor is there any trace of the politically and socially-charged โ€œactivistโ€ preaching of mendicants like Giordano da Pisa (1255-1311) or Remigio de Girolami (d. 1319). In short, though Inf. B44 compiles an eclectic set of sermons, it is a conservative exemplar of the homiliary genre.

            The description of the eighteenth-century Ambrosiana librarian on the manuscriptโ€™s first folio also notes that B44 Inf. was acquired for the Ambrosiana in the seventeenth century, when it was removed from Milanโ€™s cathedral. It is unknown if the homiliary had been a possession of the cathedral from the outset, and, if not, why or when it was moved to the cathedral. Judging by the highly moralizing and interior-focused content of the Easter sermons, it is possible that the homiliary had been used by the cathedral canons or a northern Italian monastic community. From its large size, it seems the homiliary likely would have stayed in one place, for use in private mediation or as an aid for the composition of monastic sermons. If we seek a more specific paradigm, it should be noted that B44 Inf. shares basic similarities with high-medieval Cistercian homiliaries copied in northern Italian and Burgundian monasteries, such as the house of Morimondo near Milan. These Cistercian homiliaries were usually fairly large, written in twelfth-century miniscule, and included sermons of Augustine, Bede, Ambrose, and Gregoryโ€”all characteristics that B44 Inf. shares.[1] However, further study of the Cistercian homiliaries of northern Italy is necessary to ascertain whether these and our manuscript conform to a common paradigm.

This image has an empty alt attribute; its file name is Maximus-of-Turin-Miniature-from-Medieval-Manuscript.jpg
Saint Maximus of Turin, Anonymous (Italian, Piedmontese), Carte Sciolte, n. 390, Archivio Storico della Cittร , Turin, from Codice degli Statuti di Torino o “Codice della Catena,” 1360.

            Particularly interesting among Inf. B44โ€™s Easter sermons is the second entry for the fifth day after Easter, located between ff. 16v and 17v. This homily, misattributed in the manuscript to St. Ambrose (probably as a result of local enthusiasm for that venerable bishop), is actually a probable composition of St. Maximus of Turin, and its main themeโ€”defending oneself from lustful temptationsโ€”coheres well with the manuscriptโ€™s probable monastic origin. However, how the sermon conveys this theme is in no way typical, as it does so by extended engagement with the story of Ulysses and the Sirens. Though in Late Antiquity, scientific exegesis of Greek mythology was very common in neo-Platonic circles, Christocentric engagement with a mythological text is a rare phenomenon, even within Maximusโ€™ own homiletic corpus.

            To provide a brief analysis of the sermon: Maximus begins by recalling the passage of Ulyssesโ€™ ship past the isle of the Sirens, whose lusty song is irresistible to the sailors. Because Ulysses knows that the ship will be lost if it is captured by the siren song, he ties himself to the mast. For Maximus, the mast and the ship to which the sailors cling are figures of the cross of Christ, on which all sin is expiated. Maximus soon moves from the example of Ulyssesโ€”whose story he calls โ€œfictive and not factualโ€โ€”to Mosesโ€™ healing of his people by means of a snake affixed to a staff. Unlike the Ulysses example, the history of the Jewish people is factual, and so truly prefigures Christโ€™s sacrifice. It can be argued that Maximusโ€™ Christocentric interpretation of Ulyssesโ€™ binding to the mast is inspired by Christian exegesis of the Hebrew Scriptures, the methods of which Maximus then applies to Greek myth. There is, after all, a strong exegetical tradition, beginning already with the second century Christian apologist Justin Martyr, which sees shipsโ€”specifically Noahโ€™s arkโ€”as a figure of the cross. From there, the paradigm might be easily transferred even to the ships of Greek myth. But transference is not all that Maximus is doing, notwithstanding his curt dismissal of Ulyssesโ€™ story. For later in the sermon Maximus encapsulates salvation-history thus: โ€œFittingly is he crucified on wood so that, since man was deceived in paradise by the tree of desire, he might now be saved by the same tree of wood; and the matter which was the cause of death might be the remedy of health.โ€ In Maximusโ€™ thought, nature itselfโ€”here instantiated in woodโ€”constitutes the means of salvation, providing remedies for the bodily weakness of humankind. Since Ulyssesโ€™ salvation came directly through divinely-created nature, his tale is not just some forgettable fable. In this conception, however subtly stated, pagans and non-Christians are not outside the economy of salvation, for they, too, exist within a grace-filled nature which can proffer the remedies for their ailments.

For my transcription, translation and recitations (in Modern English and Latin), see my multimedia edition of Maximus of Turin’s homily for the fifth day after Easter in Ambrosiana MS B44 Inferiore.

Mihow McKenny
PhD Candidate in History
University of Notre Dame


[1] Mirella Ferrari, โ€œDopo Bernardo: biblioteche e โ€˜scriptoriaโ€™ cisterciensi dellโ€™Italia settentrionale nel XII secolo,โ€ in Pietro Zerbi, ed., San Bernardo e lโ€™Italia. Milan, 1993, pp. 253-306.

๏ปฟ

Bibliography

Dโ€™Avray, D. L. The Preaching of the Friars: Sermons Diffused from Paris before 1300. Oxford: Clarendon, 1985.

De Lubac, Henri. Medieval Exegesis: The Four Senses of Scripture. 3 volumes. Translated by Mark Sebanc and E. M. Macierowski. Eerdmans, 1998-2009.

Ferrari, Mirella. โ€œDopo Bernardo: biblioteche e โ€˜scriptoriaโ€™ cisterciensi dellโ€™Italia settentrionale nel XII secolo.โ€ In Pietro Zerbi, ed., San Bernardo e lโ€™Italia. Milan, 1993, pp. 253-306.

Grรฉgoire, Rรฉginald. Homรฉliaires liturgiques mรฉdiรฉvaux : analyse de manuscrits. Spoleto: Centro italiano di studi sull’Alto Medioevo, 1980.

Longรจre, Jean. La Prรฉdication Mรฉdiรฉvale. Paris: ร‰tudes Augustiniennes, 1983.

Maximus of Turin. Maximi episcopi taurinensis sermones.Edited by A. Mutzenbecher. Corpus Christianorum Series Latina, vol. 23. Turnhout: Brepols, 1962.

Rahner, Hugo, S.J. Greek Myths and Christian Mystery. Translated by Brian Battershaw. New York: Harper and Row, 1963.

Yuletide Monsters: Christmas Hauntings in Medieval Literature and Modern Popular Culture

When one thinks of modern Christmas, warm images from Christโ€™s nativity to Santaโ€™s midnight sleigh ride might come to mind. However, Saint Nicholas is not the only thing that goes bump in the nightโ€”Yule monsters represent another syncretized and modernized phenomenon, which corresponds to a medieval tradition that presents winter solstice as an ideal setting for monsters to emerge from the darkness of the long night. In celebration of the holiday season, my latest blog in our series on monsters will consider the tradition of Yuletide monsters and discuss some instances of Christmas haunting in vernacular Middle English and Old Norse-Icelandic sources, thereby catching a brief glimpse at a broader medieval tradition of monsters associated with the winter solstice.

Rima Staines, ‘Baba Yaga’ (2014).

Christmas hauntings have a deep cultural and literary history. One seasonal spook, the Slavic Baba Yagaโ€”a present-stealing witchโ€”is generally remembered today as a holiday monster, though her character has only become associated with Christmas and New Years in modern times. Another, perhaps the most famous Yule monster, is Krampusโ€”the notorious, child-stealing Christmas demon and son of Hel (the Norse goddess of the underworld), who is still popular in modern Germany and increasingly abroad. These modern Christmas hauntings align with a robust medieval tradition of Yuletide monsters that come with the cold and specifically the long night of the winter solstice. Even Grendel in Beowulf, who notoriously terrorizes the hall of Heorot, does so for XII wintra tid โ€œtwelve wintersโ€™ timeโ€ (147) specifically. While this phrase surely refers to the monsterโ€™s yearlong assault on Denmark, it also seems to stress the dark and snowy season as the prime time for Grendel’s hauntings.

Gruss vom Krampus, 1900s greeting card reading ‘Greetings from Krampus!’

Today, I will mention three popular medieval textsโ€”one poem and two sagasโ€”which feature Christmas hauntings of all types, including by a green man, an undead revenant, a troll woman and a dragon.

Although most of the Christmas monsters discussed in this blog come from popular Old Norse-Icelandic sagas, the Middle English alliterative poem Sir Gawain and the Green Knight begins with a mysterious Green Knight, gome gered in grene โ€œa man geared in greenโ€ (179), described as half etayn in erde โ€œhalf-giant on earthโ€ (140) and aluisch mon โ€œelvish manโ€ (681), who appears at Camelot on Christmas riding a green horse and wielding a green axe. Not only does the Green Knight come at Yule (284), he emerges in court wearing a fur-trimmed robe (152-56) and holding a holyn bobbe โ€œholly bundleโ€ (206) in his hand, as if he were the Ghost of Christmas Present from Charles Dickens’ A Christmas Carol.

Ghost of Christmas Present from film ‘Scrooge’ (1970) directed by Ronald Neame.

Moreover, he explicitly wishes to play a Crystemas gomen โ€œChristmas gameโ€ (283). The passage describing the Green Knightโ€™s arrival emphasizes his coming for the Christmas festivities, thereby linking him with the tradition of Yuletide monsters. The Green Knight declares that since there is no warrior who can match him in battle:

I craue in รพis court a Crystemas gomen,
For hit is ศœol and Nwe ศœer, and here ar ศep mony:
If any so hardy in รพis hous holdez hymseluen,
Be so bolde in his blod, brayn in hys hede,
รžat dar stifly strike a strok for an oรพer,
I schal gif hym of my gyft รพys giserne ryche,
รžis ax, รพat is heuรฉ innogh, to hondele as hym lykes,
And I schal bide รพe fyrst bur as bare as I sitte (283-290).

โ€œI desire in this court a Christmas game, for it is Yule and New Year, and you here are many. If any in this house holds himself so hardy, be his blood so boldโ€”his brain in his headโ€”that he dare stiffly strike one stroke for another, I shall give him my gift, this rich gisarmeโ€”this axeโ€”that is heavy enough to handle as he likes, and I shall abide the first blow, as bare as I sit.โ€

Manuscript illustration of the headless Green Knight in British Library, Cotton Nero A.x f.94v.

Christmas stays a prominent theme throughout the poem, and it operates as a metric by which to measure time. Gawain spends the following Christmas with Lord and Lady Bertilak in anticipation of the subsequent Christmas game, when the Green Knight will deliver a return blow. Christmas feasting both begins and concludes this Middle English romance, enveloping the narrative with this holiday theme. Indeed, Christmas is mentioned nine times in the poem, demonstrating its role in framing the narrative. Yule is mentioned twice, and the first reference comes from the Green Knight himself as to the reason for his journey to King Arthurโ€™s court.

The next text in our discussion is the Old Norse-Icelandic Grettis saga, which contains multiple Christmas haunting episodes, each featuring a very different type of Yule monster. In Grettis saga, the holiday of Yule is likewise a repeated fixture and marker of time, and Yule is referenced thirty-three times in the saga.

Grettir รsmundarson as depicted in a 17th-century manuscript illustration, Reykjavรญk AM 426.

The major and most frequently discussed Yuletide haunting in the saga concerns the undead revenant Glรกmr, a Swedish herdsman who ignores Christmas traditions:

Nรบ leiรฐ svo รพar til er kemr aรฐfangadagr jรณla. รžรก stรณรฐ Glรกmr snemma upp ok kallaรฐi til matar sรญns. Hรบsfreyja svaraรฐi: “Ekki er รพaรฐ hรกttr kristinna manna at matast รพenna dag รพvรญ at รก morgun er jรณladagr hinn fyrsti,” segir hรบn, “ok er รพvรญ fyrst skylt at fasta รญ dag” (chapter 32).

“Now time past there until when comes the eve of Yule. Then Glรกmr stood up and called for his food. The lady of the house answered: โ€˜It is not proper that Christian men eat meat on this day, because tomorrow is the first day of Yule,” she says, “and thus they shall first fast today.โ€™โ€

Glรกmr’s response marks him as explicitly unchristian, which may serve to foreshadow his untimely demise:

Hann svarar: “Marga hindurvitni hafiรฐ รพรฉr รพรก er ek sรฉ til einskis koma. Veit ek eigi at mรถnnum fari nรบ betr at heldr en รพรก er menn fรณru ekki meรฐ slรญkt. รžรณtti mรฉr รพรก betri siรฐr er menn voru heiรฐnir kallaรฐir ok vil ek mat minn en รถngvar refjar” (32).

โ€œHe answers, โ€˜You have many restrictions, when I see no good come of it. I do not know that men fare better now than when they did not heed such things. It seems to me that the customs of men were better when they were called heathens, and now I want my meat, and no foolishness.”

Michael Davini, “Viking Village” (2011).

After his praise for heathenism, spurring caution, Glรกmr ventures into a known haunted region at Yuletide, and he never returns. We are told that kom hann ekki heim jรณlanรณttina โ€œhe came not home on Yule-nightโ€ and soon we learn that he has died. After days of searching and a number of attempts to bring Glรกmrโ€™s body to the church to be buried, eventually the townsfolk give up and bury Glรกmr where they find him, and รžaรฐ drรณgu menn saman at sรบ meinvรฆttr er รกรฐr hafรฐi รพar veriรฐ mundi hafa deytt Glรกm โ€œmen drew from this, that the evil spirit which had been there before will have killed Glรกmr.โ€ However, shortly thereafter, it is the undead Glรกmr who perpetrates Yuletide hauntings, as the saga reports:

Litlu sรญรฐar urรฐu menn varir viรฐ รพaรฐ at Glรกmr lรก eigi kyrr. Varรฐ mรถnnum at รพvรญ mikiรฐ mein svo at margir fรฉllu รญ รณvit ef sรกu hann en sumir hรฉldu eigi vitinu. รžegar eftir jรณlin รพรณttust menn sjรก hann heima รพar รก bรฆnum. Urรฐu menn รกkaflega hrรฆddir. Stukku รพรก margir menn รญ burt. รžvรญ nรฆst tรณk Glรกmr at rรญรฐa hรบsum รก nรฆtr svo at lรก viรฐ brotum (32).

โ€œA little time after men were aware that Glรกmr did not lay quiet. People become so greatly disturbed by this, that many fell into hysteria when they saw him, and some lost their wits. Even after Yule men thought they saw him at home on the farm. People became extremely scared.  Many men then fled. Next, Glรกmr took to riding houses at night, so that he nearly broke them.โ€

John Vernon Lord, illustration of Glรกmr riding roofs in ‘Icelandic Sagas’ 2, The Folio Society, 2002.

Grettir famously defeats Glรกmr, who is frequently associated with the Old Norse-Icelandic draugr, but not until the revenant has cursed Grettir with unceasing fear of the dark, as terrible light from Glรกmrโ€™s eyes haunts Grettir until the end of his days and he becomes nyctophobic forevermore.

Another Yuletide monster discussed in the saga takes place when Grettir arrives at Sandhaug to investing a trวซllagangr โ€œtroll-hauntingโ€ (chapter 64), and he encounters a trวซllkona โ€œtroll womanโ€ (65). This monster enters the halls of Sandhaug on aรฐfangadag jรณla โ€œYule-eveโ€ (64), and she plunders the halls during the long night:

Nรบ er frรก Gretti รพaรฐ at segja at รพรก er drรณ at miรฐri nรณtt heyrรฐi hann รบt dynr miklar. รžvรญ nรฆst kom inn รญ stofuna trวซllkona mikil. Hรบn hafรฐi รญ hendi trog en annarri skรกlm heldr mikla. Hรบn litast um er hรบn kom inn ok sรก hvar Gestur lรก ok hljรณp at honum en hann upp รญ mรณti ok rรฉรฐust รก grimmlega ok sรณttust lengi รญ stofunni (65).

โ€œNow it is said of Grettir that when it drew towards midnight, he heard a great din outside. Then a great troll woman came into the hall. She had a trough in one hand, and a blade, rather great, in the other. She looked around when she came in and saw where ‘Guest’ [i.e. Grettir] lay and ran towards him, but he jumped up to meet her, and they wrestled fiercely and struggled together for a long time in the hall.โ€

John Bauer, ‘Troll Cave with Deer’ (1915).

Eventually, she drags Grettir from the hall, carries him off and tries to escape to her lair ofan til รกrinnar ok allt fram at gljรบfrum โ€œup to the river and all the way to the gorgesโ€ (65). Grettir is ultimately able to cut her shoulder, slicing off the troll woman’s arm, a fatal blow which sends her off a cliff and to her death. After recovering from his encounter with the troll woman, Grettir sneaks into her cave and slays her companion, a jวซtunn โ€œgiantโ€ (66).

The final Yuletide haunting discussed in this blog comes from Hrรณlfs saga kraka, when a massive flying dรฝr โ€œbeastโ€ (probably a dragon of some kind) threatens the hall. The cowardly Hวซttr explains how this night-terror returns during Yule to haunt the hall of king Hrรณlfr:

Ok sem leiรฐ at jรณlum, gerรฐust menn รณkรกtir. Bวซรฐvarr spyrr Hวซtt, hverju รพetta sรฆtti. Hann segir honum, at dรฝr eitt hafi รพar komit tvรก vetr รญ samt, mikit ok รณgurligt, “ok hefir vรฆngi รก bakinu, ok flรฝgr รพat jafnan. Tvau haust hefir รพat nรบ hingat vitjat ok gert mikinn skaรฐa. ร รพat bรญta ekki vรกpn, en kappar konungs koma ekki heim, รพeir sem at eru einna mestir.

Bวซรฐvarr mรฆlti: “Ekki er hวซllin svรก vel skipuรฐ sem ek รฆtlaรฐi, ef eitt dรฝr skal hรฉr eyรฐa rรญki ok fรฉ konungsins.” Hวซttr  sagรฐi: “รžat er ekki dรฝr, heldr er รพat mesta trวซll” (chapter 35).

โ€œAnd as Yule neared, men became gloomy. Bวซรฐvarr asked Hวซttr what caused this. He said to him that a beast had come there for two winters in a row, great and monstrous. โ€˜And it has wings on its back and frequently flies. For two autumns now it has visited and caused great harm. No weapon bites it, and the kingโ€™s champions, those who are the greatest, do not come home.โ€™โ€

Bวซรฐvarr spoke: โ€˜the hall is not so well guarded as I thought, if one beast shall here destroy the kingโ€™s realm and livestock.โ€™ Hวซttr said: โ€˜It is not a beast, rather it is the greatest troll.โ€™” 

A Winged Dragon in a bestiary, 1278โ€“1300, Franco-Flemish. Tempera colors, pen and ink, gold leaf, and gold paint on parchment. The J. Paul Getty Museum, MS Ludwig XV 4, f.94.

This warning is quickly validated, for when jรณlaaptann โ€œYule-eveโ€ arrives, King Hrรณlfr commands his warriors to stay inside and forbids them from fighting the monster, proclaiming that it is better to lose his livestock than his people. However, Bวซรฐvarr Bjarki sneaks into the night, dragging Hวซttr behind him, and the hero quickly slays the Yuletide monster terrorizing the kingdom. Then, at Bวซรฐvarrโ€™s behest, Hวซttr consumes the flesh and blood of the beast, which strengthens and emboldens him, transforming him into a hero (in a way that recalls Sigurรฐrโ€™s actions after Fรกfnir is slain).

These medieval stories of Yuletide monsters participate in a robust tradition of winter-time (and even Christmas-specific) hauntings, which continued throughout the ages and manifests still today. Dickensโ€™ Christmas Carol is perhaps one of the more memorable, with visitations by four ghosts at the home of the miserly Ebenezer Scrooge on Christmas Eve. Dr. Seussโ€™s Grinch renders its Scrooge-like antihero in the form of a green Christmas-hating monster bent on stealing Christmas, and Tim Burtonโ€™s Nightmare Before Christmas explores the theme of Christmas haunting when the pumpkin king and leader of Halloween Town, Jack Skellington, decides he would rather celebrate Christmas one year instead out of sheer boredom with his own holiday. Jack then proceeds to haunt Christmas transforming cozy festivities into a horror show as if he were a Yule monster of old.

Jack Skellington and Santa Claus from Tim Burton’s ‘Nightmare Before Christmas’ (1993).

More recently, in George R.R. Martinโ€™s Song of Ice and Fire (and HBO’s corresponding TV series Game of Thrones), winter monsters known as the White Walkers (seemingly inspired by Old Norse-Icelandic revenants), led by the fearsome Night King, come with the cold in the long night to terrorize Westeros. Even Netflixโ€™s edgy reboot of Sabrina the Teen-age Witch, appropriately retitled Chilling Adventures of Sabrina (2018), gives a nod to medieval tales of wintertime monsters when during the solstice the Spellmans place a protective candle in the chimney to prevent Yule demons from entering their home; however, this does not stop Grรฝlaโ€”an Icelandic giantessโ€”from visiting during the night when the witches’ protective candle becomes accidentally extinguished.

Night King from season eight of HBO’s ‘Game of Thrones’ TV series (2018).

Yuletide continues to provide a haunting wintry setting for monster visits. Although often balanced by saccharine images of Christmas as a source of light and warmth against the cold dark, what lurks beyond the illumination of society during the long night seems to readily elicit horror in the modernโ€”as well as medievalโ€”imagination.

Richard Fahey
PhD in English
University of Notre Dame

Further Reading

Billock, Jennifer. “The Origin of Krampus, Europeโ€™s Evil Twist on Santa.” Smithsonian Magazine (2015).

Carriรจre, Jean Louise. “Sir Gawain and the Green Knight as a Christmas Poem.” Comitatus: A Journal of Medieval and Renaissance Studies 1.1 (1970): 25-42.

Chadwick, Nora K. โ€œNorse Ghosts (A Study in the Draugr and the Haugรบbi).โ€ Folklore 57 (1946): 50โ€“65

โ€”. โ€œNorse Ghosts II (Continued).โ€ Folklore 57 (1946): 106โ€“127

Cereno, Benito. “The Legend of the Baba Yaga Explained.” Grunge (2020).

Fahey, Richard. “Medieval Trolls: Monsters From Scandinavian Myth and Legend.” Medieval Studies Research Blog (2020).

โ€”. “Dragonomics: Smaug and Climate Change.” Medieval Studies Research Blog (2019).

โ€”. “Zombies of the Frozen North: White Walkers and Old Norse Revenants.” Medieval Studies Research Blog (2018).

Firth, Matt. “Berserks, Revenants, and Ghost Seals – Surviving a Saga Christmas. The Postgrad Chronicles (2017).

โ€”. “Monsters and the Monstrous in the Sagas – The Saga of Grettir the Strong.” The Postgrad Chronicles (2017).

Jakobsson, รrmann and Miriam Mayburd. Paranormal Encounters in Iceland 1150โ€“1400. Kalamazoo, MI: Medieval Institute Publications, 2020.

โ€”. โ€œVampires and Watchmen: Categorizing the Medieval Undead.โ€ Journal of English and Germanic Philology 110 (2011): 281โ€“300

โ€”. โ€œThe Fearless Vampire Killers: A Note about the Icelandic Draugr and Demonic Contamination in Grettis Saga.โ€ Folklore 120 (2009): 307โ€“316.

Kirk, Elizabeth D. “‘Wel Bycommes Such Craft Upon Cristmasse’: the Festive and the Hermeneutic in Sir Gawain and the Green Knight.” Arthuriana 4.2 (1994): 93-137.

Palmer, Alex. “Why Icelandโ€™s Christmas Witch Is Much Cooler (and Scarier) Than Krampus.” Smithsonian Magazine (2017).

Phelan, Walter S. The Christmas Hero and Yuletide Tradition in Sir Gawain and the Green Knight. Lewiston, NY: E. Mellen Press, 1992.

Squires, John. “Chilling Adventures of Sabrinaโ€ Brought Christmas Demon Grรฝla to the Screen for the First Time.” Bloody Disgusting (2018).

Su, Minjie. โ€œOld Norse White Walkers? Draugr, the Walking Dead in Medieval Icelandic Sagas.” Medievalist.net (2017).

Troop, Sarah Elizabeth. “Monsters of Christmas.” Atlas Obscura (2013).

Villareal, Daniel. “These 20 Terrifying Christmas Monsters Will Haunt Your Holidays.” Hornet (2019).

Zarka, Emily. โ€œDraugr: The Undead Nordic Zombie.โ€ Monstrum, Public Broadcasting Station (2019).

Teaching Consent: More Lessons from the Wife of Bath

On this day three years ago, my first contribution to the Medieval Studies Research Blog, in which I connected the Wife of Bathโ€™s Tale with contemporary rape culture, was published. In December 2017, the #MeToo movement was gaining momentum, and the survivors of sexual violence were thrust into the media spotlight. But while the public eye was focused on the victims who came forward in record numbers, Brock Turner, the former Stanford University student who was caught raping an unconscious 22-year-old woman in 2015, was attempting to have his multiple felony sexual assault convictions overturned. With โ€œThe Silence Breakersโ€ taking center stage, we barely noticed when Turner was trying to sneak out the back door.  

Mugshot of Brock Turner, taken by the Santa Clara County Sheriffโ€™s Office when he was arrested in January 2015. Turner was found guilty of three felony assault charges. Despite prosecutors’ recommendation that he be sentenced to six years in prison, Turner was sentenced to only six months in a county jail and then released after three.

Witnessing how our collective gaze fixated on victims, I felt that the Wife of Bathโ€™s Tale had something valuable to teach us about shifting our attention to the perpetrators of sexual violence and social reformation. I still do. So today, I return to the tale to consider how we can actively create a culture of consent. Rather than concentrating on violence, I want to highlight how the tale emphasizes education as a critical component of cultural reformation. After all, it is through education that the rapist knight is reformed in the tale.

As a refresher for those who have not recently read the Wife of Bathโ€™s Tale or who may not be familiar with the Middle English poem from Geoffrey Chaucerโ€™s Canterbury Tales, the narrative begins with the protagonist knightโ€™s rape of a maiden whom he meets in the woods. Called to the court of Camelot for his crimes, the knight escapes King Arthurโ€™s condemnation to death only because the queen suggests an alternative: the knight will return to the court in a year and one day to provide an answer to the question, โ€œWhat thyng is it that wommen moost desirenโ€?[i]

Table of Contents for the Canterbury Tales included in the Ellesmere Chaucer, a fifteenth-century manuscript housed at the Huntington Library, San Marino, MSS EL 26 C 9, fol. 72 r. The entry for the Wife of Bathโ€™s Tale, listed in the sixth row descending, contains the description โ€œOf what thyng [รพat] women louen bestโ€ โ€“ or in modern English, โ€œAbout the thing that women love most.โ€  

The task that the queen requires of the knight, in turn, requires that he receive an education โ€“ one through which he acquires information but also learns effective communication. In contrast to the knightโ€™s singular concern with what he wants and the brutal assertion of his will over a young womanโ€™s body, the endeavor upon which the knight embarks depends upon asking women what they want and listening to what they have to say. Over the course of the tale, the knightโ€™s quest forces him to see that the answer to such a question is subjective. He discovers that women desire different things and, effectively, that women have wills of their own. His journey leads him to the only acceptable answer: above all things, women desire sovereignty. Returning to Arthurโ€™s court, the knight acknowledges that women want autonomy. But his answer alone โ€“ the act of speaking the words aloud โ€“ does not suffice. Only after the knight puts his new knowledge into practice, specifically in a sexual context that compels communication with and respect for the woman in his bed, does he appear fully exonerated in the tale. In the end, the knight preserves his life and gains a wife with whom he lives happily ever after.

At this point, the fact that Chaucer may have committed rape himself deserves disclosure, since Iโ€™m striving to convey how a narrative penned by his hand that rewards a rapist can teach us about consent. But the Wifeโ€™s tale is fiction and the wife herself a fictional character; neither entity represents Chaucer the person nor reflects on his charges of raptus in 1380. It is paramount to understand that my interpretation of the tale and its teachings derive directly from the Wifeโ€™s wisdom as represented in her prologue and her tale. We should recall that the Wife is a survivor of sexual assault, and as I suggested three years back, if she has something valuable to teach us about combatting sexual violence, we must listen. According to Alisoun of Bath, education is the key to consent.

One of only two surviving medieval illuminations of the Wife of Bath, which appears in the Ellesmere Chaucer. The other appears in a fifteenth-century manuscript housed at the Cambridge University Library, MS Gg.4.27.

Without sexual education, we replicate the conditions in which rape culture thrives. Socially, we continue to idolize hegemonic masculinity, a paradigm that rewards attributes like virility, aggression, and dominance and, by extension, conflates sex with conquest, a combination that inherently undermines consent. At the same time, we generally shy away from conversations about what women want because sexuality, especially when it pertains to womenโ€™s pleasure, remains so stigmatized. The sexual education young people currently receive in the U.S. is inconsistent across the country and largely deficient in its emphases and omissions. On the one hand, public school curriculums traditionally highlight the dangers of sexual activity, attempting to frighten adolescents with pictures of disease and stories of unintended pregnancy. On the other hand, conservative states and institutions tend to employ an abstinence-only strategy, via which they articulate a particular set of values related to sexual behavior but do not necessarily provide information about sex. By instilling young people with fear and denying them information, these approaches to sexual education are antithetical to sexual health. Moreover, the absence of sexual education models silence where sexual activity is concerned. Consent, however, depends upon successful communication.

Comprehensive sexual education provides young people information about human bodies and sexual behavior that is pertinent to their everyday lives.[ii] It is crucial not only for their personal health but also for the health of others, particularly their romantic partners both present and future. Healthy relationships cannot happen without communication, and without engaging in intentional conversations about sex, students are prevented from practicing a skill essential to personal and communal sexual well-being.

Due to the deficits and overall incongruity of sexual education across the country, many young people enter their college campuses and their adult lives without the tools that enable them to make informed decisions and communicate effectively in sexual situations. During their first year of college, students should have access to a course on human sexuality that provides a comprehensive introduction previously unavailable to them and appropriate for them as adults. But not all colleges include sexuality studies in their course offerings. My own institution, for example, does not currently offer a course on human sexuality for its undergraduate population. Yet if students are not equipped with the information and skills necessary for fostering sexual health, it impairs our ability to develop a community in which consent becomes accepted as doctrine.

The Center for Disease Control identifies education as an essential tool for preventing sexual violence. 

Comprehensive sexual education provides young people the information integral to navigating an omnipresent part of human experience, an aspect that affects us individually, as well as interpersonally. Conducting conversations about sex in an educational environment also establishes a visible and tangible connection between open communication and healthy sexuality. Communication, of course, cannot be separated from consent.

I want to be very clear: comprehensive sexual education need not eschew faith-based values, just as science need not exist apart from religion. Students can be taught the science surrounding sex alongside lessons about spiritual life. As Pope John Paul II said, โ€œScience can purify religion from error and superstition; religion can purify science from idolatry and false absolutes. Each can draw the other into a wider world in which both can flourish.โ€

We all deserve to flourish. By foregrounding education, the Wife of Bathโ€™s Tale begins to show us how.

Emily McLemore
Ph.D. Candidate, Department of English
University of Notre Dame


[i] Chaucer, Geoffrey. The Wife of Bathโ€™s Tale. The Riverside Chaucer, edited by Larry D. Benson, Houghton, 1987, pp. 116-22, line 905.

[ii] Bedbible Research Center. “Sex Education Statistics โ€“ The state of sexual education (+Dataset),” 2015, https://bedbible.com/sex-education-statistics/.