Matheolus: medieval Latin literature protesting church & wife

Christ suffering passion in Isenheim Altarpiece

Late in the thirteenth century, Matheus of Boulonge married the widow Petra. Matheus suffered double punishment for his marriage. Because the Council of Lyon in 1274 tightened regulations on clerics marrying, Matheus’s marriage destroyed his church career. Petra delivered a second blow by destroying his personal life. Matheus began referring to himself as Matheolulus — little, little Matheus. Despite Matheus’s reduced stature (his name is commonly reduced only to Matheolus in modern literary study), he retained enormous wit. Matheolus’s suffering from the rule of mother church and his wife prompted him to write Lamentationes Matheoluli. That work is a masterpiece of medieval Latin literature of men’s sexed protest.

While most men are rightfully fearful of criticizing women, Matheolus dared to criticize Christ himself. Matheolus in a dream declared:

Allow me to say — it’s on the tip of my tongue —
it may be too bold — Christ, you don’t dare
to get married. Why? Because you supposed
that if you married, you would be expelled from paradise.

{ Dicam, michi cum sit in ore,
Nescio si temere, non ausus, Christe, fuisti
Uxorem capere. Quare? quia disposuisti
Quod, si quam caperes, expelleret a paradiso
Te. } [1]

Christ, however, had no need of marriage because he was already united to divinity. Ordinary men, in contrast, need marriage to provide for salvation and union with the divine. Christ in Matheolus’s dream explained:

Look, I don’t want sinners to die. I’m their redeemer.
I fought for them. When you’ve paid a lot for something
you don’t just throw it away, and so I’ve decided
to make several purgatories for them to
purge themselves in — treatment makes sick people better —
and the best one is marriage. You’ve already experienced punishment.
I needn’t reopen it; rather, I’d say that even those toasted
on a flaming gridiron don’t suffer as much punishment as
those who are imprisoned in marriage.
There is no greater martyrdom than the day-to-day
punishment like yours, refined in the furnace of marriage.
You are truly a martyr, and so if you take your suffering well
have no doubt that after you die you’re coming straight to me.
Nothing will stand in your way, no punishment will intervene.
Why? Because you have already been purged under your wife.

{ O! peccatorum quia mortem nolo, redemptor
Et pugil ipsorum, cum res non debeat emptor
Emptas tam care pessundare, janque parare
Iccirco volui sibi purgatoria pllura,
Ut se purgarent; egros sanat data cura;
Inter que majus est conjugium. Quia nosti
Penas, non resero; tamen hoc dico, quia tosti
Ferro flammifico, to penas non patiuntur
Quot patiuntur ei qui conjugio capiuntur.
Non est martirium majus quam continuata
Pen velut tua, conjugii fornace probata.
Es vere martier; ergo, bene si patiaris,
Non dubites quin me post mortis bella sequaris,
Obice sublato, nulla pena mediante,
Quippe sub uxore quoniam purgatus es ante. } [2]

Speaking ideas of Genius, Christ instructed church leaders:

It’s necessary and right for cities and towns to be replenished
with babies. If male hadn’t joined with female,
now there would be no religious orders, nor Peter being keeper of the keys.
Therefore would the clergy please stop contradicting me on this?

{ Expedit atque decet urbes et castra repleri
Filiolis. Nisi se junxisset mas mulieri,
Nil modo religio, nil Petrus claviger esset;
Ergo clerus in his michi contradicere cesset! }

The clergy of Talavera with all their heart and soul and might strove to obey such urging.

Matheolus represented his own marital suffering in devotional and liturgical contexts. In the Christian liturgical week of Christ’s passion, the three days preceding Easter in medieval Europe included Tenebrae service. That’s a service of darkness and lamentations. Matheolus in marriage experienced Tenebrae daily all year long from his wife:

Litany, the word of God, and the Mass she changes,
and sings Tenebrae to me daily from her own composition.
She curses on every canonical hour,
cries and brawls, never holding back her reins.
My wife daily chants every one of her hours for woman.
The first response is growling, singing darkly.
Then begins the antiphon: “Woe, woe, woe to you husband!”
or there are her lamentations or her quarrelsome songs.

{ Litania, Dei verbum versa vice, missa
Et tenebre mihi cottidie cantantur ab issa.
Hec maledicatur, quoniam sub qualibet hora
Flet vel rixatur, numquam retrahens sua lora.
Cottidie sponso canit horas femina quasque,
Primo reponso frendens, cantat tenebrasque.
Incipit antiphona sic: “Ve, Ve veque maritis!”
Vel sunt luctisona, vel sunt sua cantia litis. } [3]

The high culture of Latin and church liturgy became for Matheolus a rich resource for protesting his suffering in marriage.

Matheolus broadly considered spirituality and following Christ. Exhausted, wounded, and exasperated, he lamented:

No rest for the husband, when night and day he is chosen
fifteen times for the passion. He is continually crucified.
Thus it is, my god Hercules! The torment of marriage
is far worse than the torment of the Stygian abode.

{ Nullo vero requies, cum nocte dieque legatur
Passio quindecies illi: semper cruciatur.
Est, medius fidius, tormentum conubiale
Iam multo gravius quam tormentum Stygiale. } [4]

Matheolus’s lament alludes to the common medieval view of sexual deficit accounting. In that accounting, women when widowed became sexually voracious. Experiencing the passion refers in part to Matheolus’s responsibility to have sex with his wife.

Experiencing the passion fifteen times daily also suggests extreme devotion to Christ’s crucifixion. St. Francis of Assisi in the twelfth century made prominent the Stations of the Cross. In that devotion, the faithful represent Jesus’s condemnation, crucifixion, and burial through fourteen stages of visual representations, narratives, and prayers arranged around a church. Matheolus described his suffering as a crucifixion that occurred daily with one more stage than the Stations of the Cross.

Matheolus in his spirituality of marital suffering encompassed Greco-Roman traditional religion. The ejaculation “It is, my god Hercules!” starts with a statement of being that could be interpreted as a parody of the Mosaic god’s name “I am.” “My god Hercules” was a traditional Greco-Roman invocation that Jews and Christians would associate with following a false god. The Stygian abode similarly was the non-Christian, Greco-Roman underworld. Marriage had become a sacrament in the Christian church by the thirteenth century. In his invocation of god and by describing marriage as far worse than being in the Greco-Roman underworld, Matheolus was playing with Christian heresy.

Matheolus also protested against marriage in economic and legal terms. The conditions of Matheolus’s marriage naturally caused him to lose sexual potency. Unlike in marriage today, spouses in medieval Europe had a legal obligation to have sex with each other even if one of them didn’t want sex. That legal obligation was known as the marital debt. Matheolus lamented:

My wife wants it, but I can’t. She petitions for her right.
I say no. I just can’t pay.

{ Vult uxor, sed ego nequeo; petit hec sua jura;
Non sovendo nego factus } [5]

Even given his sexual incapacity, Matheolus’s wife Petra sought for him to be bodily punished:

Acting as her own advocate, Petra puts forward
the law that if a destitute shriveled sack can’t
pay, under statute recompense for that injury is corporal punishment.

{ allegat enim Petra pro se
Ius, quod, si nequeat inopis rugosa crumena
Solvere, pro noxa statuatur corpore pena. }

A fundamental principle of communication economics is the criminalization of men in relation to women. In this civil case, the injury wasn’t the effect of Petra and Matheolus’s marriage on Matheolus’s genital function. The injury was depriving Petra of sex that Matheolus was required under law to provide non-consensually and regardless of ability to pay. Modern readers should be able to find some appreciation for Matheolus’s sexed protest.

Lamentationes Matheoluli deserves much more attention from scholars and the general public. For decades, scholars have associated Lamentationes Matheoluli with “tired old antifeminist commonplaces” and a “vast echo-chamber of antifeminist commonplaces.”[6] That greatly mischaracterizes the wide-ranging wit and creativity of Lamentationes Matheoluli. Moreover, dividing medieval literature into the binary categories “feminist” and “anti-feminist” is anachronistic and conceptually imperialistic.[7] Most importantly, injustices of institutionalized paternity deception, forced financial fatherhood, acute anti-men discrimination in family law, and social devaluation of men’s lives are important issues suppressed today under dominant ideology. Vibrant intellectual life needs open, diverse, fearless critical thinking. Rebirth of such thinking could start with medieval Latin literature.

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Notes:

[1] Matheus of Boulogne (Matheolus), Lamentations of Little, Little Matheus {Lamentationes Matheoluli} l. 2393-7, from Latin, my translation, benefiting from that of Correale & Hamel (2005) p. 392. The Latin text is available in Klein, Rubel & Schmitt (2014) (preferred) and Van Hamel (1892). Jehan Le Fèvre loosely translated the work into French late in the fourteenth century. The English quotations above are exclusively based on the original Latin version.

[2] Lamentationes Matheoluli l. 3024-38, from Latin trans. Correale & Hamel (2005) p. 392, with some minor changes. The claim that marriage works like Purgatory is taken up in the 15 Joys of Marriage. Matheolus dreamed that, in recognition of their martyrdom in marriage, husbands earned a higher place in heaven than virgins and any conventional martyrs. That reversed common Christian understanding of holy status. Jerome influentially described the Christian status ranking in his work, Adversus Jovinianum. Matheolus is awaken from his dream by his wife’s nagging (l. 372-3767). The subsequent quote above is from l. 3515-18, trans. id.

[3] Lamentationes Matheoluli l. 671-8 from Latin, my translation. Tenebrae is known from the ninth century. Le Fèvre’s French version is translated in Blamires, Pratt & Marx (1992) p. 182.

[4] Lamentationes Matheoluli l. 341-4, my translation. Here’s discussion of medius fidius as an oath/interjection to Hercules. The translation in Correale & Hamel (2005), p. 386, flattens the allusions and pagan references:

There is no rest for the husband, fifteen times a day and night passion is his lot; his is tortured continually. I swear, marital torment is a lot worse than the torment of hell.

Matheolus is far more interesting than merely as a source for Chaucer. Matheolus apparently also was a source for the 15 Joys of Marriage, written in French about 1400. More importantly, Matheolus’s text itself rewards careful study.

[5] Lamentationes Matheoluli l. 577-8, trans. Correale & Hamel (2005) p. 388, modified slightly. The medicalized condition “erectile dysfunction” now supports highly profitable pharmaceuticals. The implicit biological norm seems to be that a properly functioning man should in the presence of a woman be able to get an erection on demand. Such medicine can abuse masculine biology like attention deficit medicine can abuse boys’ natural level of activity. The subsequent quote above is from id. l. 582-4, trans. id. I’ve brought out the legal terminology obscured in the translation.

[6] Mann (2002) pp. 28, 40. Among the rare scholarly works that mentions Lamentationes Matheoluli, it is commonly characterized as “antifeminist.” An anthology of texts declared:

Le Fèvre’s version {of Lamentationes Matheoluli} proved an effective propagation of the satire, ensuring that “Matheolus” continued to be a name to match Jean de Meun’s for brutal antifeminism in fifteenth-century debates about women.

Blamires, Pratt & Marx (1992) p. 177. Jean de Meun was an author of the literary masterpiece Romance of the Rose.

[7] After referring to the “monstrous bulk of antifeminist literature in the Middle Ages,” Mann added a footnote explaining:

Since I have recently encountered some misunderstanding of the term “antifeminism” among non-medievalists, I had better make clear that medievalists have traditionally applied it to literary expressions of hostility to women, and not hostility to feminism (which would clearly be anachronistic).

Mann (1991b) p. 2; p. 31, n. 3. Medieval tradition, or the tradition of medievalists, doesn’t provided reasoned justification for conceptual imperialism.

[image] Christ’s passion, detail of Isenheim Altarpiece. Painted by Matthias Grünewald in 1512–1516. On display at the Unterlinden Museum at Colmar, Alsace, in France.

References:

Blamires, Alcuin, Karen Pratt, and C. William Marx. 1992. Men Impugned, Woman Defamed and Woman Defended: an anthology of medieval texts. Oxford: Clarendon Press.

Correale, Robert M., and Mary Hamel. 2005. Sources and analogues of the Canterbury Tales. Vol. 2. Cambridge: D. S. Brewer.

Klein, Thomas, Thomas Rubel, and Alfred Schmitt, eds. 2014. Lamentationes Matheoluli. Stuttgart: Anton Hiersemann. (review by Linda Burke)

Mann, Jill. 1991a/ 2002. Geoffrey Chaucer. Atlantic Highlands, NJ: Humanities Press International. Republished as Feminizing Chaucer. Woodbridge, Suffolk, UK: D.S. Brewer.

Mann, Jill. 1991b. Apologies to women: inaugural lecture delivered 20th November 1990. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press.

Van Hamel, Anton Gerard, ed. 1892. Mathéolus, Jean Le Fèvre. Les lamentations de Mathéolus et le livre de leesce de Jehan Le Fèvre, de Ressons: poèmes français du XIVe siècle. Paris: Bouillon.

Sincopus described medieval reasons for castrating men

Attis, castrated priest of goddess Cybele

To make male animals more docile and subservient, their owners commonly castrate them. Reasons for castrating men have been more complex. In the ancient world, men were castrated to serve chastely the great goddess Cybele, to be servants who wouldn’t cuckold the master’s wife, or to be high-voiced, non-threatening singers in courts. Men were also castrated for socially constructed crimes against women. The subordination of men within gynocentric society is the primary and continuing reason for men’s castration. Gynocentrism, however, becomes merely a term of facile intellectual posing, like patriarchy, if deployed as a totalizing master narrative. In reality, men are active agents partly responsible for their own castration. The medieval poem about Sincopus, written in Latin about the year 1100, documents that men’s greed has contributed to castration culture.

The poem about Sincopus directly addresses castration. Sincopus, a castrated man, guarded and served the beautiful woman Flora. Although Flora’s husband hired Sincopus, he didn’t order Sincopus to be castrated. The poem’s narrator asked Sincopus why he was castrated:

For what reason do you lack your member and two testicles?
Perhaps Perifras cut them off with sharp metal
And now they are withered with dull sores,
Or perhaps a rupture with its burden grieved you immensely,
Or the decency of a common virgin was ravished,
Or the girl of a scarcely known family was prostituted,
Or the wife of a poor man was deluded by your gift;
Alas, speak! Tell me which of them you will admit is the truth [1]

The possibilities put forward in this question probably were relatively common reasons for castrating men.

Criminalizing men in relation to women contributes to castrating men. The poem about Sincopus describes as a reason for castration that “the decency of a common virgin was ravished.” The decency of a common virgin in public understanding almost surely meant the status of any unmarried woman without a notorious reputation for sexual activity. The charge against a man wouldn’t necessarily be rape. While ravish could mean rape, it could also mean having consensual sex, with penal responsibility for that sex effectively attributed to the man. Regulation of men’s sexuality at U.S. universities is moving back toward such a regime, but without the distinction for sexual reputation.[2]

Other reasons for castrating men underscore criminalizing men in relation to women. Men were castrated for having sex with other men’s wives. Those wives are figured as deluded women merely seeking gifts for sex to help support their impoverished families. Men were also castrated for prostituting a girl. U.S. legislation, building upon the history of the Mann Act, defines any person under age 18 having “any sex act on account of which anything of value is given to or received” as a victim of “sex trafficking.”[3] In conjunction with that broad definition of prostitution and its victims, the text of the legislation leaves no doubt that the victim-prostitutes of concern are female and the prostitution perpetrators, male.

The poem about Sincopus also indicates that men were castrated as medical treatment. The phrase “a rupture with its burden grieved you immensely” probably refers to a hernia in which a section of the intestine enters the scrotum. That’s a common form of hernia among men.[4] It can cause inflammation of the scrotum and sepsis. Castration is plausible medieval treatment for such a hernia.

The narrator’s reference to Periphras cutting off Sincopus’s genitals is obscure. The German verb fräsen means “to mill.” The Swedish word fräs indicates a milling machine or cutter. Peri is a Greek prefix meaning “around” or “in excess.” Periphras could be a descriptive name for a surgeon who castrated boys at the behest of parents or lords.[5]

“Periphrastic” characterizes Sincopus’s explanation of his castration. To the narrator’s well-circumscribed question, Sincopus responded:

“Nothing I’ve undergone,” says Sincopus, “has been unworthy of me,
I do not want you to think I am such a base man;
My soul was not remiss as you believe,
Entangling itself in such foul faults.
But since you ask me why I cut off my genitals,
Lest you hope for more, I shall tell you the story briefly.” [6]

In brief, Sincopus cut off his own genitals. The story Sincopus tells begins with a pompous, periphrastic oration:

Swollen with knowledge of the grammatical art,
Overflowing with brains but not wealthy in substance,
I was vexed, irritated with perpetual burning of the breast:
“What are you doing? Look! You have no riches
Or means whence to make a small gain grow;
If you have money you will always be honored;
There is no honor for you destitute, no friends for the needy;
If gold is lacking, no letters are pleasing! [7]

Sincopus felt that his learning made him deserving of wealth. He castrated himself so that he could join the fat Galli serving in luxury the goddess Cybele.

Sincopus’s greedy, self-interested service of the goddess ended badly. So as to ensure and legitimate favorable omens, Sincopus preserved  his severed genitals:

At last let me confess that my member, which I destroyed,
I turned into ash and put aside in the house,
And mixing it with ground pepper, I preserved it like gold. [8]

While performing his holy offices, Sincopus carried with him the pepper-preserved ashes of his genitals.

Having become through his castration an eminent person, Sincopus hosted numerous dinners. Sincopus’s house even hosted guests when Sincopus wasn’t home. At one such dinner, the guests wanted pepper. The servant-waiter searched about the house and couldn’t find any. He then went to seek some from the neighbors. The guests themselves then began to ransack the house for pepper. They broke open the chest in which Sincopus had stored the ashes of his genitals mixed with pepper. The guests used that mixture to season their food.[9]

After returning home two days later, Sincopus discovered the precious, preserved ashes of his genitals were gone. The servant explained that the guests had broken into the chest and used the pepper they found there to season a dinner “rich with fat fowl.” None of the servants knew what had been mixed with the pepper. Sincopus then delivered aloud a prolix lamentation. A servant muttered:

What are these words that our lord, alas! speaks?
Perhaps he pickled his genitals that he cut off;
He burned them in fire and mixed them with pepper.
I would consider myself stupid if I thought pepper thus became aged;
For seasoning his member is brought to our tables;
I dipped my meat in the meat of my lord. [10]

This sensational story rapidly spread from the servants to everyone in the city. Sincopus was disgraced. He lost his high position and was covered in a shower of spit. City leaders planned to dismember Sincopus: break his legs, cut off his hands, and tear out his tongue. Sincopus wisely fled. In a far away place, he found a job as guardian of Flora.

Sincopus ends the poem by requesting the poet not to disclose his secret to all. Castrating men is today of great public importance. After nearly a millennium, Sincopus’s secret must be further revealed. Castration culture should be a matter of careful study for all.

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Notes:

[1] Radulfus Tortarius, Epistle VI, l. 66-73, from Latin trans. Wolterbeek (1991) p. 181.  All subsequent quotes are from id. unless otherwise noted. I cite quotes by “Sincopus” and poem line numbers. I’ve made some minor changes to the translation for clarity and precision. Radulfus Tortarius doesn’t have a well-standardized name. His name also commonly appears as Raoul Le Tourtier and Rodulfus Tortarius. A French Benedictine monk of the Abbey of Fleury-sur-Loire, he was born in the mid-eleventh century and died after 1122.  His poetic works are preserved in only one manuscript, MS. Vat. Reg. 1357. Ogle & Schullian (1933) p. xxxii.

The name Sincopus is similar to the word syncope. The latter is a grammatical term meaning the taking away of sound from within a word. That can be understood as a grammatical metaphor for castration.

The poem about Sincopus has attracted little scholarly attention. A nineteenth-century commentator ignore its contents for being “coarse” and “of little taste.” Wolterbeek (1991) p. 88, referring to the view of Eugène Certain in an 1853 publication. Another scholar called it “strange on all sides” and suggested that it was an in-group burlesque for Radulphus Tortarius’s friends. Bar (1937) pp. 150-1, 158.

[2] Ancient belief about beavers provides an additional, relevant perspective on forced castration:

There are frequent references {in medieval and ancient literature} to the belief that the beaver was hunted for valuable medicine that could be extracted from his testicles and that, when chased, he bit off his testicles and left them to his pursuers with the hope that, satisfied with these, they would abandon the chase.

Sheridan (1980) p. 103, n. 129. Some early literary references are Cicero, Pro Scauro 2.5; Juvenal 12.34; Pliny 8.47. 109. Id. Alan of Lille’s De planctu naturae includes such a reference. Id. p. 103. Men being hounded and harassed on college campuses might sadly consider acting like beavers in similar circumstances.

[3] 114 Stat. 1464, Public Law 106–386 (Oct.  28, 2000), An act to combat trafficking in persons, especially into the sex trade, slavery, and involuntary servitude, to reauthorize certain Federal programs to prevent violence against women, and for other purposes. See Sec. 103(3),(8)(A), and (9).

[4] The ancient Greek text Philogelos refers to hernias. A scholar noted:

In the most common type of hernia suffered by men, some of the lower intestine enters the scrotum (which, of course, a eunuch lacks), distending it. For a joke on that swelling, see #262.

Quinn (2001), n. 10. Joke #262 in an English translation:

Whilst on a trip, a wag contracted the dropsy. When he got back home, his wife asked if he had brought her a present. “Nothing for you. But here’s a pillow for your thighs.”

From Greek trans. Baldwin (1983) p. 49.

[5] Bar (1937), p. 154, suggests that Sincopus was a patient of a surgeon named Periphras. But Sincopus says directly that he castrated himself. Id. also notes references to persons named Periphas in Virgil, Aeneid, II.476; Ovid, Metamorphoses, VII.400; and Statius, Thebaid, VII, 641, 643. Numerous persons carried the name Periphas in Greek mythology. The name Periphras is much more rare. The father of Oedipus’s second wife Euryganeia was Periphras. Robl (2003). That man was also known as Hyperphas.

[6] Sincopus l. 75-80. I’ve substituted “soul” for “mind” in translating animus and “fault” for “sin” in translating maculis.

[7] Sincopus l. 81-88. Cf. Juvenal, Satire 7. In medieval Byzantium, court eunuchs became powerful and fabulously wealth.  Constantine the Paphlagonian, the son of farmer in tenth-century Byzantium, was castrated for sake of advancement in Constantinople. Court opportunities for eunuchs “may have provided Byzantine families with strong economic incentive to castrate a relative.” Tougher (2008) pp. 61, 64.

[8] Sincopus l. 139-41. Pepper in medieval Europe was an expensive delicacy. Sheridan (1980) p. 174, n. 14.

The Shahnameh, an epic poem that Ferdowsi wrote in Persian about 1000, includes a story with similarities to Sincopus’s story. In the Shahnameh, King Ardeshir defeated King Ardavan and took his daughter as wife. She, after becoming pregnant, attempted to poison King Ardeshir. The King ordered his vizier to execute the woman. The vizier secretly didn’t carry out the execution and instead hid the woman in his palace. To prove his good intentions, he castrated himself, had his testicles placed in salt, and sealed them in a jeweler’s box.  He dated the box and gave it to the King to keep in his treasury. Many years later the contents of the box were revealed to the King to prove that the vizier had no sexual relations with the woman. For an English translation, see “The Reign of Ardeshir” in Davis (2007) pp. 554-60. I’m grateful to Geert Jan van Gelder for pointing out this story.

Statius, a Roman poet writing in the first century GC, wrote a poem in which Asclepius castrated the boy Earinus to “soften him up” and make him more pleasing to the Emperor. Earinus later sent a lock of his hair in a jeweled, golden box to Asclepius to honor him. Statius, Silvae 3.4.

[9] For a humorous, twelfth-century Arabic poem about out-of-control guests causing the host great hardship, see van Gelder (1995). Radulfus Tortarius’s second epistle includes the earliest known version of the Ami and Amile (Amicus and Amelius) legend. Like the Tristan and Iseult legend, the Ami and Amile legend involves a protagonist traveling with another’s wife and sleeping with a sword between him and her. That sword figure also occurs in an Arabic tale about Hatim Tai, an Arabic paragon of generosity. See note [4] and associated text in my post on friendship and the tale of Attaf.

[10] Sincopus l. 224-30.

[image] Attis, a castrated priest (Gallus) serving the goddess Cybele. Marble sculpture in Museum of Ephesus, Efes, Turkey. Thanks to Pvasiliadis and Wikimedia Commons.

References:

Baldwin, Barry, trans. 1983. The Philogelos, or, Laughter-lover. Amsterdam: J.C. Gieben.

Bar, Francis. 1937. Les Epîtres latines de Raoul Le Tourtier (1065?-1114?); étude de sources; la légende d’Ami et Amile. Paris: E. Droz.

Davis, Dick, trans. 2007. Ferdowsi. Shahnameh: the Persian book of kings. London: Penguin.

Ogle, Marbury Bladen and Dorothy M. Schullian, eds. 1933. Rudolphus Tortarius. Rodulfi Tortarii Carmina. Rome: American Academy in Rome.

Quinn. John T. 2001. “45 Jokes from The Laughter Lover.” Online at Diotima.

Robl, Werner. 2003. Rudolf Tortarius: Ad Syncopum. Online commentary.

Sheridan, James J., ed. and trans. 1980. Alan of Lille. The plaint of nature {De planctu naturae}. Toronto: Pontifical Institute of Mediaeval Studies.

Tougher, Shaun. 2008. The eunuch in Byzantine history and society. London: Routledge.

Van Gelder, Geert Jan. 1995.  “The Joking Doctor: Abū l-Hakam ‘Ubayd Allah ibn al-Muzaffar (d. 549/1155).”  Pp. 217-28 in Concepción Vázquez de Benito & Miguel Ángel Manzano Rodríguez, eds. Actas XVI Congreso UEAI {Union Européene des Arabisants et des Islamisants}. Salamanca.

Wolterbeek, Marc. 1991. Comic tales of the Middle Ages: an anthology and commentary. New York: Greenwood Press.

Nazhun lamented al-Makhzumi loving every one-eyed

Castle at Almodóvar, earlier known as al-Mudawwar al-Adna

Since the beginning of human civilization, war has been predominately organized as men killing men. Yet some men have sought a better way. An Arabic anecdote about Nazhun and al-Makhzumi, poets living in Andalusia probably in the twelfth century, narrates though an invective contest alternatives for men’s lives.

The descriptive frame for the anecdote sets out a key contrast. The narrator explains:

Although the people of Andalusia were champions in the horse race of the holy war, rushing from the mountains and the canyons to respond to its call, they also kept, out of fear of satire, a special place for luxury, pleasure, wantonness, and the patronage of the poets. [1]

The word “people” obscures in generic identity that the persons fighting and dying in holy war were men. The dual spheres of war and luxury parallel the power of the sword and the pen. The man poet al-Makhzumi wielded the pen as a greatly feared satirist. That skill brought him to the place of luxury. Yet places of luxury are sustained as much with eulogy as with satire. Al-Makhzumi wrote weak poetic eulogy.

Al-Makhzumi’s weak poetic eulogy in the place of luxury generated an invective war between him and Nazhun. Positioning herself as one accustomed to living in the place of luxury, Nazhun ridiculed al-Makhzumi’s eulogy. Al-Makhzumi was from Almodóvar. Nazhun described Almodóvar as farm country. Al-Makhzumi’s first response to Nazhun’s attack on him was to spit. Nazhun in turn wished him ill health. They exchanged further verbal blows. With more daring than most educated men would dare today, al-Makhzumi called Nazhun a liar and “a red hot strumpet whose thing admits odors that can be smelled from miles.” The vizier Abū Bakr ibn Sa’id, acting the part of the benighted white knight of European chivalry, intervened to defend Nazhun. Al-Makhzumi then attacked Nazhun with disparagement of men’s genitals:

May God not allow her to hear good tidings, and may he show her nothing but a penis.

A penis is a wonderful organ that brings good tidings of joy, and on some occasions, new life. Appreciating this reality, Nazhun responded to al-Makhzumi:

Why, dirty old man, you contradict yourself! What could be better for a woman than what you have mentioned {a penis}?

Al-Makhzumi, upholding a sort of gender symmetry, then disparaged Nazhun’s vagina as being widely stretched. Within the place of luxury, al-Makhzumi was a verbal warrior willing to attack harshly women as well as men.

While men tend to idealize women as pure, sweet, and innocent, women are as capable of viciousness as are men warriors. Nazhun turned on al-Makhzumi with poetic invective:

Tell the vile one a word
To be recited until he meets his maker
In Almodóvar you were reared
And shit smells sweeter than that place
There the Bedouin have begun
To swing and sway in their walk
Therefore you became
Besotted with everything round
You were created blind
But you get lost in every one-eyed

In its Islamic context, the vague reference to “his maker” implicitly suggests a vile, demonic force. Associating Almodóvar with shit parallels the farm country insult that Nazhun made earlier. But turning Bedouins into effeminate men suggests in contrast urban life. That contrast leads into Nazhun’s new line of attack on al-Makhzumi. The Arabic word for Almodóvar comes from the Arabic word for round. The Arabic word for “one-eyed” naturally extends to mean penis by the penis’s single orifice. But neither “round” nor “one-eyed” are best understood to refer to penis.[2] These words more plausibly figure the low, backside presentation of male hips. Nazhun represents al-Makhzumi as enjoying the position of the pedagogue in an ancient form of male-male sexual-intellectual transmission.[3] Underneath Nazhun’s invective is two-eyed envy of the one-eyed’s special relationship with the blind teacher. Nazhun tried to figure herself as male:

I have responded to a poem in kind
So pray tell me, who is more poetic?
By creation, I may be female
But my poetry is male

Al-Makhzumi in turn poetically disparaged Nazhun as being sexually easily accessible.[4] Al-Makhzumi then amorously departed with a young male slave.

castle at Almodóvar del Río in Andalusia

Al-Makhzumi the pedagogue of invective had a foil in the vizier Abū Bakr. Al-Makhzumi reportedly was Nazhun’s teacher.[5] Abū Bakr defended Nazhun from al-Makhzumi, sought her love, and complained of her promiscuity. She wrote to him:

Oh Abū Bakr, you hold a place forbidden
to others in my heart, reserved for my best friend
However many lovers may be in truth
Love for Abū Bakr would have the foremost place [6]

Those words express what’s now known among men as friend-zoning. Men in the friend zone are loved non-erotically.

Men fight other men primarily to serve women in gynocentric society. So do men leaders of state. An alternative for men is to learn skills of invective and affiliate with men in the place of luxury that women inhabit. In the deep poetic irony of human society, such a turn makes men more erotically attractive to women.

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Notes:

[1] Anecdote about Nazhun and al-Makhzumi, al-Maqqarī’s version, from Arabic trans. Hammond (2010) p. 139. All subsequent quotes are from id., pp. 139-42, unless otherwise noted. I’ve made a few minor changes to the translations for clarity. The names Nazhun and al-Makhzumi are properly written as Nazhūn (Nazhūn al-Garnatī bint al-Qulā’ī) and al-Makhzūmī (Abū Bakr al-Makhzūmī). I use the former forms for accessibility. Schippers (1993) provides an alternate English translation based on the version in Ibn al-Khatīb’s Ihāta.

[2] Hammond (2010), pp. 135-6, finds “round” (mudawwar) and “one-eyed” (a’war) to refer to a penis. Those references seem to me to generate a less coherent, less meaningful interpretation of the poem. While possible, they are not necessary.

[3] Figural association of eyes, buttocks, and pedagogy occurs in the influential Life of Aesop. That work, written in Greek about the first century, diffused widely throughout the Islamic world.

Writing at the end of the fourteenth century, Geoffrey Chaucer associated the eye with the anus: “Absolon has kissed her lower eye {Absolon hath kist hir nether ye},” meaning Absolon has kissed Alisoun’s anus. Chaucer, Canterbury Tales, The Miller’s Tale, v. 3852.

[4] Al-Makhzumi told Nazhun to listen and recited:

Why don’t you ask Nazhun
Why she gathers her tails so proudly
When she spots a friendly face
She lifts up her shirt as she has done so often for me

[5] Hammond (2010) p. 133, n. 19.

[6] From Arabic trans. Nykl (1946) p. 303, quoted in Segol (2009) p. 156.

[image] Castle at Almodóvar del Río in Andalusia. Thanks to Phillip Capper (first photo), Wolfgang Manousek (second photo), and Wikimedia Commons. A fortress on the hill in Almodóvar dates to 740. Almodóvar was then known as al-Mudawwar al-Adna.

References:

Hammond, Marlé. 2010. Beyond elegy: classical Arabic women’s poetry in context. Oxford: Oxford University Press.

Nykl, Alois Richard. 1946. Hispano-Arabic poetry, and its relations with the old Provenc̜al troubadours. Baltimore: J.H. Furst Co.

Schippers, Arie. 1993. “The role of woman in medieval Andalusian Arabic story-telling.” Pp. 139-152 in Jong, Frederick de. 1993. Verse and the fair sex: studies in Arabic poetry and in the representation of women in Arabic literature : a collection of papers presented at the 15th Congress of Union Européenne des Arabisants et Islamisants (Utrecht/Driebergen, September 13-19, 1990). Utrecht: Houtsma Stichting.

Segol, Marla. 2009. “Representing the Body in Poems by Medieval Muslim Women.” Medieval Feminist Forum 45:1: 147-169.