*Article* **The Medieval Apparition of the Virgin of the Girdle and the Marian Appendix of Liturgical Sequences in E-TO 135**

**Patricia Peláez Bilbao and Arturo Tello Ruiz-Pérez \***

**\*** Correspondence: atelloru@ucm.es

**Abstract:** Based on the fervor and devotion of the Virgin of the Girdle of Tortosa—which gained a strong establishment from the 17th century onwards—this article explores the possibility of a cause-effect relationship between the apparition of the Virgin in the cathedral in 1178 and the Marian appendix contained in the troper-proser E-TO 135 (c. 1228–1264). By comparing the narration of the miracle and the sequences in this appendix, we can verify the existence of an early and incipient veneration—both inside and outside the walls of the cathedral—that would predate what was previously believed.

**Keywords:** the Virgin of the Girdle; troper-proser; sequence; liturgical song; medieval devotion; medieval music; miracles; Tortosa

#### **1. Introduction**

"And with great affection, I say to you, as I did the first time: Farewell, Spain! Farewell, land of Mary!" With these words, Pope John Paul II bid farewell to Spain in 2003, and they certainly have their raison d'être. The Iberian Peninsula has been a land of deep-rooted devotion to the Virgin and a clear belief in the Immaculate Conception since early on. For example, there is the legendary apparition of the Virgin on a pillar to the Apostle St. James, whose popular fervor gave birth, according to a questionable tradition from the 7th century (St. Ildephonsus and St. Julian of Toledo), to the first particular feast dedicated to the Immaculate Conception (Peinado Guzmán 2012). Or, on 25 March 1858, the day of the Incarnation, there was her self-disclosure in the Patois language (similar to Catalan), "que soy era inmaculada Concepciou" (that I am/was the Immaculate Conception), during the apparitions of Lourdes in the Pyrenees (Laurentin 1988, p. 1160).

Nearly every village, nearly every corner of the Peninsula, had its own advocation to Our Lady. In the case of Tortosa, which had been recently reconquered, this devotion was to the Virgin of the Girdle, thanks to yet another numinous apparition. According to tradition (Vidal Franquet 2008, pp. 53–64), on the night of 24–25 March 1178, the Virgin appeared to a canon who was about to celebrate Matins in the cathedral but was late amid *Te Deum*. She gave him the girdle that bound her mantle with the following words: "Et quoniam in honorem filii mei, et meum haec Ecclesia est constructa, et vobis Dertusensibus curae est me plurimum venerari, ideo quia diligo vos, pro quibus meum ad filium intercedo, soluens Cingulum, quo praecingor, a me fabricatum, super Altare illud pono, et vobis trado: ut hoc in pignus amoris mei memoriam habeatis". (Martorel y de Luna 1626, p. 459) (And since this church was built in honor of my Son and in mine, and because I love the people of Tortosa who take care that I should be highly revered and for whom I intercede with my Son, loosening the girdle with which I gird myself, made with my own hands, I place on the altar. I give it to you so that you may keep it as a sign of my love). From then on, especially since the 17th century (Alanyà i Roig 2004), this relic has been the subject of strong devotion in Catalonia and throughout Spain as a miraculous gift, also on the part of both the Habsburg and Bourbon monarchs. For instance, from 1629 to modern times,

**Citation:** Peláez Bilbao, Patricia, and Arturo Tello Ruiz-Pérez. 2023. The Medieval Apparition of the Virgin of the Girdle and the Marian Appendix of Liturgical Sequences in E-TO 135. *Religions* 14: 501. https:// doi.org/10.3390/rel14040501

Academic Editors: José María Salvador González and W. J. Torrance Kirby

Received: 28 February 2023 Revised: 28 March 2023 Accepted: 3 April 2023 Published: 5 April 2023

**Copyright:** © 2023 by the authors. Licensee MDPI, Basel, Switzerland. This article is an open access article distributed under the terms and conditions of the Creative Commons Attribution (CC BY) license (https:// creativecommons.org/licenses/by/ 4.0/).

Department of Musicology, Complutense University of Madrid, 28040 Madrid, Spain; papelaez@ucm.es

it was customary for queens of Spain to receive the reliquary with the Girdle as a means of protection during childbirth, while Felipe V was the first monarch to be a member of the Archconfraternity of the Virgin of the Girdle (Bayerri Bertomeu 1989, pp. 147–52; Vidal Franquet 2008, p. 30). Precisely, the support of the Crown was decisive for the construction of a majestic chapel (Figure 1) in honor of the Virgin of the Girdle to guard the relic in the cathedral (Gil Saura 2008). burg and Bourbon monarchs. For instance, from 1629 to modern times, it was customary for queens of Spain to receive the reliquary with the Girdle as a means of protection during childbirth, while Felipe V was the first monarch to be a member of the Archconfraternity of the Virgin of the Girdle (Bayerri Bertomeu 1989, pp. 147–52; Vidal Franquet 2008, p. 30). Precisely, the support of the Crown was decisive for the construction of a majestic chapel (Figure 1) in honor of the Virgin of the Girdle to guard the relic in the cathedral (Gil Saura 2008).

in Catalonia and throughout Spain as a miraculous gift, also on the part of both the Habs-

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**Figure 1.** Baroque Chapel of the Girdle (1672–1725) seen from the main nave of the cathedral. Photographed by Amador Àlvarez (public domain picture). **Figure 1.** Baroque Chapel of the Girdle (1672–1725) seen from the main nave of the cathedral. Photographed by Amador Àlvarez (public domain picture).

The connection between the advocation and the relic with childbirth is not coincidental. From the beginning, the fact that the relic of the *Cinta* (Girdle) was considered a protector of women in labor, as a sign of the Virgin's motherhood, could have originated from the meaning Saint Isidore's *auctoritas* gave to *incincta* (*in-cincta*): "sine cinctu; quia praecingi fortiter uterus non permittit" (*Etymologiarum* X, 151) (Oroz Reta and Marcos Casquero 2004, p. 818) (without girding, because the uterus does not allow itself to be forcefully girded). There may have been a mistaken assimilation of this term with the vernacular term *encinta*, meaning pregnant. Although etymologically debatable (Corominas and Pascual 1980, pp. 598–99), the initial steps of devotion towards this advocation by women in labor were likely taken under the same principle of authority, surely promoted by the Cathedral Chapter of Regular Canons of Saint Ruf of Avignon. The connection between the advocation and the relic with childbirth is not coincidental. From the beginning, the fact that the relic of the *Cinta* (Girdle) was considered a protector of women in labor, as a sign of the Virgin's motherhood, could have originated from the meaning Saint Isidore's *auctoritas* gave to *incincta* (*in-cincta*): "sine cinctu; quia praecingi fortiter uterus non permittit" (*Etymologiarum* X, 151) (Oroz Reta and Marcos Casquero 2004, p. 818) (without girding, because the uterus does not allow itself to be forcefully girded). There may have been a mistaken assimilation of this term with the vernacular term *encinta*, meaning pregnant. Although etymologically debatable (Corominas and Pascual 1980, pp. 598–99), the initial steps of devotion towards this advocation by women in labor were likely taken under the same principle of authority, surely promoted by the Cathedral Chapter of Regular Canons of Saint Ruf of Avignon.

Precisely, the membership and affiliation of Tortosa's Cathedral Chapter to the reforming spirit emanating from Saint Ruf of Avignon is not a trivial aspect of this matter. Alongside the monastic arm of Cluny, Saint Ruf of Avignon had become the canonical arm with which the Gregorian Reform was articulated, and in this, the emphasis on the figure of the Virgin was a key element (Vones-Liebenstein 1996). Thus, just 30 years after Tortosa was recovered from Muslim hands (1148) and 20 years since the construction of the new temple dedicated to Saint Mary began (1158), the second consecration took place in the same year Precisely, the membership and affiliation of Tortosa's Cathedral Chapter to the reforming spirit emanating from Saint Ruf of Avignon is not a trivial aspect of this matter. Alongside the monastic arm of Cluny, Saint Ruf of Avignon had become the canonical arm with which the Gregorian Reform was articulated, and in this, the emphasis on the figure of the Virgin was a key element (Vones-Liebenstein 1996). Thus, just 30 years after Tortosa was recovered from Muslim hands (1148) and 20 years since the construction of the new temple dedicated to Saint Mary began (1158), the second consecration took place in the same year as the appearance of the Virgin (Ramos 2005). Therefore, it is logical to think

that from the times of the first bishop and abbot Gaufred of Avignon (1151–1165) until the consecration by Bishop Ponç of Monells (28 November 1178), the promotion of a faith in which Mary had a preponderant role was the usual trend, as evidenced by the cathedral's own dedication. From then on, in this sense, the miracle of the girdle became the definitive endorsement in devotional terms. times of the first bishop and abbot Gaufred of Avignon (1151–1165) until the consecration by Bishop Ponç of Monells (28 November 1178), the promotion of a faith in which Mary had a preponderant role was the usual trend, as evidenced by the cathedral's own dedication. From then on, in this sense, the miracle of the girdle became the definitive endorsement in devotional terms.

as the appearance of the Virgin (Ramos 2005). Therefore, it is logical to think that from the

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On the other hand, as is so often the case in the Middle Ages with extraordinary events of a sacred nature such as apparitions, and this one should not be an exception, once they gain popularity and become widely known, the need to bring them quickly into the liturgy arises. This process involves an exchange and composition of chants in which a diversity of roles come into play, some of them representing an extension of old uses and materials, while others are new and, to a certain point, largely original areas of creativity, with new nuances and meanings. Following this process, the Ciceronian axiom *variatio delectat* flies over medieval creative consciousness, where the production of something new could also have included the practice of expanding or adapting something that already existed and would have been valued as such by tradition. In other words, "the new is usually presented with the look of the old since the river is always the father of the stream" (Tello Ruiz-Pérez 2016, p. 22). On the other hand, as is so often the case in the Middle Ages with extraordinary events of a sacred nature such as apparitions, and this one should not be an exception, once they gain popularity and become widely known, the need to bring them quickly into the liturgy arises. This process involves an exchange and composition of chants in which a diversity of roles come into play, some of them representing an extension of old uses and materials, while others are new and, to a certain point, largely original areas of creativity, with new nuances and meanings. Following this process, the Ciceronian axiom *variatio delectat* flies over medieval creative consciousness, where the production of something new could also have included the practice of expanding or adapting something that already existed and would have been valued as such by tradition. In other words, "the new is usually presented with the look of the old since the river is always the father of the stream" (Tello Ruiz-Pérez 2016, p. 22).

However, where are the medieval chants for the Virgin of the Girdle? We know that in 1508, bishop Alfonso of Aragon and the Cathedral Chapter of Tortosa jointly commissioned an *Officium Cinguli Beate Marie, suntum ex breviario antiquo Ecclesie Dertusensis*<sup>1</sup> (Figure 2) (O'Callaghan, I pp. 174–77; Bayerri Bertomeu 1989, pp. 77–81; Querol 1999, pp. 86–87; Alanyà i Roig 2004, pp. 62–63) (Office of the Girdle of Blessed Mary, taken from the ancient breviary of the Church of Tortosa) from Francesc Vicent, prior of Tarragona (Toldrà i Sabaté 2003), for a new proper worship on the second Sunday of October, but we have no trace of earlier chants directly related to the Girdle . . . Does this mean that it was not venerated before in Tortosa? However, where are the medieval chants for the Virgin of the Girdle? We know that in 1508, bishop Alfonso of Aragon and the Cathedral Chapter of Tortosa jointly commissioned an *Officium Cinguli Beate Marie, suntum ex breviario antiquo Ecclesie Dertusensis***Error! Reference source not found.** (Figure 2) (O'Callaghan 1886–1888, I pp. 174–77; Bayerri Bertomeu 1989, pp. 77–81; Querol 1999, pp. 86–87; Alanyà i Roig 2004, pp. 62–63) (Office of the Girdle of Blessed Mary, taken from the ancient breviary of the Church of Tortosa) from Francesc Vicent, prior of Tarragona (Toldrà i Sabaté 2003), for a new proper worship on the second Sunday of October, but we have no trace of earlier chants directly related to the Girdle… Does this mean that it was not venerated before in Tortosa?

**Figure 2.** Incipit of the Office of the Girdle of Blessed Mary (1508) (Martorel y de Luna 1626, p. 453). **Figure 2.** Incipit of the Office of the Girdle of Blessed Mary (1508) (Martorel y de Luna 1626, p. 453).

Using the evidence from the Marian sequences found in the Tortosa troper-proser, Chapter Library Cod. 135 (E-TO 135),**Error! Reference source not found.** compiled during the mid-13th century (c. 1228–1264) (Peláez Bilbao 2021), and specifically those collected in an unusual Using the evidence from the Marian sequences found in the Tortosa troper-proser, Chapter Library Cod. 135 (E-TO 135),<sup>2</sup> compiled during the mid-13th century (c. 1228–1264) (Peláez Bilbao 2021), and specifically those collected in an unusual Appendix dedicated to the Virgin, this article examines the interrelationships between the selection of chants

from the manuscript and early devotion to the Virgin of the Girdle. The Marian anthology, comprising 22 sequences, nine Alleluias, and one Sanctus (non-troped), draws mainly from the repertoires of the so-called "second-epoch", "victorine", or "classical" sequence (from the 12th century onwards) (Peláez Bilbao and Tello Ruiz-Pérez 2021, pp. 476–84), where four sequences are unique to Tortosa, seven have a very limited diffusion (sometimes only between peninsular sources), and 11 have pan-European dissemination. The analysis focuses on the literary and musical connection points of these sequences with the main features of the apparition and devotion of the Virgin of the Girdle, such as her self-presentation as *Maiestas Mariae* (*in solio*, on a throne), the emphasis on her title as a patroness of women in labor, the allusion to her womb (girdled by the girdle), and her love for humankind.

As a result of our approach, the Marian appendix and private or public devotion can be seen as two sides of the same coin, the apparition, finding many common elements and mutually explaining each other. Thus, going beyond establishing a simple direct dependence that would place these sequences as the possible first testimony of liturgical veneration related to the Virgin of the Girdle, something which, on the other hand, is entirely plausible, our intention is to present both as realities imbued by the unique expansive wave of the miracle.

#### **2. Main Features of the Apparition**

Unfortunately, we do not have a complete narration of the events that took place surrounding the apparition before 1508. The *breviarium antiquum* on which Francesc Vicent based his work, later edited by Martorel y de Luna, has not come down to us. However, what we do have are two references to the existence of the story, in the form of prayer without music, collected in two cathedral cartularies (E-TO 14, f. 173r and E-TO 81, f. 183r),<sup>3</sup> both from the early 14th century. Therefore, it is worth quoting Martorel's account of the miracle in extenso in order to examine its characteristics. Distributed among the third and ninth lessons of Matins, this is essentially what the Office says:

[Third Lesson]: In Tortosa, there was a virtuous priest [canon] with a God-fearing heart. Although we do not know his name, it is clear from the following account that he was a pious man. He had renounced the world to follow Christ and turned his attention to heavenly things, particularly to the Virgin Mary, mother of God, whom he honored diligently. One ordinary day, in the middle of the night, he woke up to attend Matins at the church of Tortosa, as was his custom. Miraculously, he was transported by the Lord to the gates of the church adjoining the cemetery. Still wondering how he had arrived there, he heard the *Te Deum laudamus* chant and was saddened, saying to himself, "Alas! I am late for church because I have slept too much. But since today there should be a ferial service, what is this solemn service that I hear inside the church?"

[Fourth Lesson]: While he was silently pondering these things, the doors of the church opened, and an immense brightness of light appeared to him as he stood at the threshold. From the chevet of the church to the very threshold, he saw the holy angels of God clothed in white, standing on either side of the choir and holding lighted white candles in their hands. The sight of them made him tremble. The angels nodded to him, handed him a lighted candle, and beckoned him to approach the high altar. The priest obeyed them and went to the altar, where he saw a very beautiful woman sitting on a throne adorned and crowned. Two men stood at her sides, and she looked at him and asked him: "Do you know me, priest?" In terror, the priest answered: "Although I suspect who you are, lady, I am not quite sure". Then she said to the priest: "I am the mother of God, to whom you serve and pay the highest homage. These two men beside me are the principal apostles of Christ: on the right, Peter the Vicar of Christ, and Paul, the doctor of the gentiles, on the left".

[Fifth Lesson]: Then the priest knelt down and said to her: "Oh, the Holiest Virgin Mary, mother of our Lord Jesus Christ and my Lady! Being an unworthy priest and a sinner, Queen of heaven, why do I deserve to see you while I still dwell in the flesh?" And the Holiest Virgin Mary said to him: "Because you have always tirelessly served me, you have deserved to see me in this life and be here among the choirs of angels. And since this church was built in honor of my Son and in mine, and because I love the people of Tortosa who take care that I should be highly revered and for whom I intercede with my Son, loosening the girdle with which I gird myself, made with my own hands, I place on the altar. I give it to you so that you may keep it as a sign of my love. And you will tell all these things to the bishop of the city, the clergy, and the people". Having said that, she untied it and placed it on the altar, handing it over to him. The priest said to her: "Considering that I am alone, if I tell them all these things they will not believe me". Then the most pious Virgin Mary said to him: "Behold, you have the major monk ("monachus maior", i.e., deacon)<sup>4</sup> who is in the choir, and he saw everything. Therefore, you two will report on all these things to each and every one of them". And after these words, the vision disappeared. [...]<sup>5</sup>

As can be observed, the pace of the narrative in actions and situations sets the progression of its features. Initially, the distinction between the ordinary and the extraordinary lies in the difference between the past and present tenses, respectively. The narrative's past tense portrays the daily reality that coincides with the present of the narrator and our present time. On the other hand, the present tense serves as an open door (as described in the story) to the wonderful, similar to the timeless present of the liturgy. While this may appear obvious, it is an essential detail for the narration. The liturgical chant (*Te Deum*) grants access to a supratemporal reality, enabling the eruption of heaven on earth. The narration demonstrates that participation in the liturgy is the open door to heaven, to miracles, and to encounters with things beyond our world. In the words of Cabié, "the 'Divine Liturgy' is, in a sense, heaven come down to earth and the focal point of a cosmic vision of reality. Here the entire universe is transfigured by the Holy Spirit in the offering of the sacred gifts [ . . . ] thus the singing echoes the singing of the angelic choirs". (Cabié 1986, p. 148).

Precisely the latter, despite the overwhelmed fears of our canon/priest, suggests that in heaven, the same chants are sung as on earth, and in the same way: here, the *Te Deum* is sung antiphonally, with two angelic choirs, or more specifically, with the two halves of a choir ("standing on either side of the choir"). Hence, under "an immense brightness of light," the two rows of angels form a corridor that leads directly to the Lady. She appears as the beautiful Queen of heaven crowned, enthroned, and flanked by the two visible heads of the apostolic college, Saint Peter, and Saint Paul, with typical attributes of the iconographic theme of the *Maiestas Mariae* (see e.g., Forsyth 1972; Verdier 1980; Thérel 1984; Piano 2003; Salvador-González 2012, pp. 175–209). Such a mise-en-scène is key and fundamental to understanding the vassalage relationship established between the Virgin and the canon, where she occupies the dominant position of the *dompna/dame/domina* (lady) of the troubadours as if she were a feudal lord, and he assumes the position of the vassal/lover who bows before the mighty presence of the beloved lady ("domina mea") in gestures of service, worship, respect, and homage. Overall, we see how mystical fervor portrays itself with the earthly feet of courtly love.<sup>6</sup>

Within the codes of courtly love on which this relationship is based, the girdle would then become the *gazardo/guizardo* (reward) for the merits of our spiritual lover, as a representative of the people of Tortosa and, we could say, all of humanity. Apart from the point at which she individually grants the canon the prize of being able to participate for a few moments in heavenly glory, thanks to his loyal and tireless service to her, the change from "my lady" to "our lady" is articulated. The girdle is, therefore, a gift for everyone, as evidenced by the fact that the lady sends the canon to tell everyone what has just happened, assuring that he will be believed by the deacon's testimony.

Here, the displayed portrait of Mary depicts her as a queen, as the beloved, but above all, as a mother ("I am the mother of God"), and this detail is of paramount importance in regard to the holy girdle. The girdle, being a garment that was made by the Virgin with her own hands, and used to girdle her belly and womb, was immediately recognized as a symbol of her motherhood. It is not surprising, as there existed very extensive imagery since ancient times in which Mary was depicted as the tabernacle, monstrance, container, and reliquary of Christ, that is, of *Corpus Christi*. Just to give an example, we have these eloquent words from Saint Germanos I of Constantinople (c. 634–733 or 740):

Of that belt, which encircled that all-holy body and covered God who was hidden in her womb. Of that belt, which adorned the ark of God in a beautiful and sacred fashion. Of that belt, which was often enriched by undefiled drops of milk from the one who was wholly undefiled. [ . . . ]

For if a vessel which has been in contact with myrrh even for a short time knows how to preserve its sweet smell for a long time after it has been emptied, what might one say about the belt that was wound about and attached for a long time to that truly inexhaustible and divine myrrh—I mean the most pure and wholly unblemished body of the Theotokos? Would it not preserve eternally the sweet smell of healing and fill those who approach it with faith and desire? [*Oratio IX*, 4–5]<sup>7</sup> (Cunningham 2008, pp. 249–250; Migne, PG 98, 376B–C)

The correlation between the living vessel and the Word-made-flesh explains the early association of the holy girdle with the fruit of Mary's womb. This identification was developed to such an extent that, even in the time of the Virgin, the holy girdle or *τιµιας* ´ *ζωνης* ´ (holy belt) was revered as a relic of Christ himself. We can trace this association far back in time because the episode of Tortosa, to a certain extent, replicates the one narrated by the Pseudo-Joseph of Arimathea about the delivery of the belt to Saint Thomas Apostle while Mary was taken up by angels into heaven<sup>8</sup> (Salvador-González 2013, 2019). In fact, several girdles have come down to us in different parts of Europe (Constantinople, Prato, Puy-Notre-Dame, and Bruton), each with its specific devotion (Réau 1957, pp. 62–66). However, in all these pious manifestations, the most important aspect of being observed is not so much the diversity of the girdles themselves but rather the fact that they are interconnected in one way or another. For instance, all of them are seen as a sign of the Virgin's universal motherhood and a means of maternal protection during childbirth.<sup>9</sup>

For the first time in 1347 (and later also in 1363), the "Inventari Antic de les Sanctes Relíquies" (Ancient Inventory of the Holy Relics) from Tortosa (Figure 3) recorded these practices as follows:

Ítem, té el monge major, en una caixa de fusta pintada, una Cinta, la qual se diu ésser de Santa Maria, la qual és de seda blanca et és feta a manera de eixàrsia de pescar, la qual presta a les dones que van en part et no poden enfantar, et és nuada en sinch llochs et hay 12 palms de llonch e més de 1 de ample, e hals caps és feta a manera de trena fil o de cairell, et hai un tros de cuiro lligat a cada un cap a 4 palms, la qual se diu que Santa Maria la ha tinguda Cintada en esta sgleia com hic apparet segons que pus llongament és contingut en un miracle, lo qual és escrit en alguns llibres segons ques diu.

(O'Callaghan, I, p. 160; Bayerri Bertomeu 1956, p. 488; Alanyà i Roig 2004, p. 60; Ballester 2004)

[Item: The deacon possesses a Girdle in a painted wooden box, which is believed to have belonged to Saint Mary. The Girdle is made of white silk and is shaped like a fishing tackle. It is customary to bring it to women in labor who have complications. It has five knots, 12 spans in length, and more than one span in width. At each end, it resembles the shape of a braided thread or hair braid, with a piece of leather tied to four spans. It is said that Saint Mary wore the Girdle

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sively written in some books.]

("Cintada") in this church, as mentioned in a miracle that is reportedly more extensively written in some books.] love, the Virgin was with them, and now the people had to entrust themselves to her through their devotion and songs of praise. Thus, an ideal environment existed for the compilation of a specific repertoire.

At each end, it resembles the shape of a braided thread or hair braid, with a piece of leather tied to four spans. It is said that Saint Mary wore the Girdle ("Cintada") in this church, as mentioned in a miracle that is reportedly more exten-

As previously mentioned, it is highly probable that the term *cintada* (and, by extension, *encinta*) may have been confused with the Isidorian definition of *incincta*, whether intentionally or not. However, it is a fact that the Virgin Mary was already regarded as a protector of women in labor, as evidenced by other girdles that preceded this one in time. The interesting issue for our purposes is the significance of this protective dimension for the people and the city of Tortosa. As discussed by Amades (Amades 1932), in 1148, after the reconquest of the city by Berenguer IV in the context of the Second Crusade, many lives were lost. It was crucial to ensure safe childbirths, and the apparition of the Virgin at that moment provided confidence and hope to a Tortosa that had lost its bearings. Out of

**Figure 3.** Ancient Inventory of the Holy Relics (1357) from Tortosa (E-TO c.n. 73, s.n.). @ Tortosa Chapter Library. Picture used with permission. **Figure 3.** Ancient Inventory of the Holy Relics (1357) from Tortosa (E-TO c.n. 73, s.n.). @ Tortosa Chapter Library. Picture used with permission.

**3. The Marian Appendix in E-TO 135**  At this juncture, we arrive at the crux of our hypothesis. Is it plausible that an appendix of sequences (Figure 4), such as that found in the troper-proser E-TO 135, was compiled to exalt the Virgin of the Girdle? This would imply that, in one way or another, from a liturgical standpoint, veneration and devotion to the Girdle were active in Tortosa long before its specific feast was established in the 16th century and certainly long before what was previously believed. Why else would an appendix of Marian nature be included in a liturgical codex that already covered Marian festivities within its overall corpus? However, as we have already pointed out, seeking a direct and explicit dependence relationship of the repertoire with respect to the entire current of devotion aroused by the miracle—such as, for example, that of protection during childbirth spread among women in labor—would be too simplistic a way of seeing things. Perhaps it would be much more As previously mentioned, it is highly probable that the term *cintada* (and, by extension, *encinta*) may have been confused with the Isidorian definition of *incincta*, whether intentionally or not. However, it is a fact that the Virgin Mary was already regarded as a protector of women in labor, as evidenced by other girdles that preceded this one in time. The interesting issue for our purposes is the significance of this protective dimension for the people and the city of Tortosa. As discussed by Amades (1932), in 1148, after the reconquest of the city by Berenguer IV in the context of the Second Crusade, many lives were lost. It was crucial to ensure safe childbirths, and the apparition of the Virgin at that moment provided confidence and hope to a Tortosa that had lost its bearings. Out of love, the Virgin was with them, and now the people had to entrust themselves to her through their devotion and songs of praise. Thus, an ideal environment existed for the compilation of a specific repertoire.

#### useful here to employ the concept of "interdependence" between both dimensions, litur-**3. The Marian Appendix in E-TO 135**

gical and popular, as two coetaneous fruits of the same tree, each with its own subtleties and characteristics. One is reflected and explained in the other because both have the same origin—the same root. At this juncture, we arrive at the crux of our hypothesis. Is it plausible that an appendix of sequences (Figure 4), such as that found in the troper-proser E-TO 135, was compiled to exalt the Virgin of the Girdle? This would imply that, in one way or another, from a liturgical standpoint, veneration and devotion to the Girdle were active in Tortosa long before its specific feast was established in the 16th century and certainly long before what was previously believed. Why else would an appendix of Marian nature be included in a liturgical codex that already covered Marian festivities within its overall corpus?

However, as we have already pointed out, seeking a direct and explicit dependence relationship of the repertoire with respect to the entire current of devotion aroused by the miracle—such as, for example, that of protection during childbirth spread among women in labor—would be too simplistic a way of seeing things. Perhaps it would be much more useful here to employ the concept of "interdependence" between both dimensions, liturgical and popular, as two coetaneous fruits of the same tree, each with its own subtleties and characteristics. One is reflected and explained in the other because both have the same origin—the same root.

ian appendix.

**Figure 4.** Incipit of *Ave Maria/gratia plena*, first sequence of the Marian appendix (E-TO 135, f. 120r). @ Tortosa Chapter Library. Picture used with permission. **Figure 4.** Incipit of *Ave Maria/gratia plena*, first sequence of the Marian appendix (E-TO 135, f. 120r). @ Tortosa Chapter Library. Picture used with permission.

The troper-proser TO 135 can be considered one of the most representative within the Spanish repertoire of sequences for three main reasons (Peláez Bilbao 2003, 2021). Firstly, because it contains a large number of sequences, no less than 77, surpassed only as far as sequences with melody are concerned—by E-H 4 (another troper-proser), dated to the early 12th century, from San Juan de la Peña (Tello Ruiz-Pérez 2017). Secondly, it provides a fairly balanced sample of all the styles of the medieval sequence as a genre. Finally, precisely because of the presence of this interesting, enigmatic, and unusual Mar-

The organization of the manuscript (Appendix A) is established by collections that develop without interruption, followed by our appendix: Kyrie (ff. 1–9v), Gloria (ff. 9v– 15v), Sanctus (ff. 15v–32v), four Episcopal blessings (ff. 32v–33r), Agnus Dei (ff. 33r–39r), sequentiary or proser (temporal, sanctoral, and common) (ff. 39r-118r), and Marian appendix (ff. 118v–144v). Each section change is marked by an illuminated initial of the first piece that starts a new collection (for example, the sequentiary: Figure 5). This occurs in all cases except in the appendix, which was added by a contemporary hand (Figure 6b): it The troper-proser TO 135 can be considered one of the most representative within the Spanish repertoire of sequences for three main reasons (Peláez Bilbao 2003, 2021). Firstly, because it contains a large number of sequences, no less than 77, surpassed only—as far as sequences with melody are concerned—by E-H 4 (another troper-proser), dated to the early 12th century, from San Juan de la Peña (Tello Ruiz-Pérez 2017). Secondly, it provides a fairly balanced sample of all the styles of the medieval sequence as a genre. Finally, precisely because of the presence of this interesting, enigmatic, and unusual Marian appendix.

is precisely where the sequentiary ends (f. 118r) and the appendix begins (f. 118v)—the only point of the manuscript in which this continuum is interrupted, since the sequentiary ends in the sixth line of the folio (Figure 6a). That is, there is a clear intention to separate the Marian appendix as a section apart from the rest of the manuscript. The organization of the manuscript (Appendix A) is established by collections that develop without interruption, followed by our appendix: Kyrie (ff. 1–9v), Gloria (ff. 9v–15v), Sanctus (ff. 15v–32v), four Episcopal blessings (ff. 32v–33r), Agnus Dei (ff. 33r–39r), sequentiary or proser (temporal, sanctoral, and common) (ff. 39r-118r), and Marian appendix (ff. 118v–144v). Each section change is marked by an illuminated initial of the first piece that starts a new collection (for example, the sequentiary: Figure 5). This occurs in all cases except in the appendix, which was added by a contemporary hand (Figure 6b): it is precisely where the sequentiary ends (f. 118r) and the appendix begins (f. 118v)—the only point of the manuscript in which this continuum is interrupted, since the sequentiary ends in the sixth line of the folio (Figure 6a). That is, there is a clear intention to separate the Marian appendix as a section apart from the rest of the manuscript.

The Marian appendix comprises eight Alleluias, 21 sequences, an additional Alleluia, one Sanctus, and a final incomplete sequence. It can be considered a kind of anthology, specifically, a Marian anthology. In fact, the appendix lacks illuminated initials and rubrics assigning each item to a feast of the Virgin or other occasions, thus exhibiting a high degree of simplicity. The last incomplete sequence (*Uterus virgineus*), with the ambiguous rubric "Sancta Maria"—added by another hand that made corrections to the manuscript during the 14th century—is an exception. As with any anthology, liturgical versatility and interchangeability are essential traits of the repertory. In this regard, as previously mentioned several times, discovering an appendix with similar characteristics is exceedingly uncommon. In the current corpus of 3381 manuscripts with sequences from all over Europe in our database, we could only identify a certain resemblance to six sources,<sup>10</sup> all of which are later than E-TO 135 (i.e., from the 14th to the 16th centuries) and have an anthological nature centered on the figure of the Virgin Mary. This scarcity of comparable testimonies further enhances the value of this Tortosa appendix. *Religions* **2023**, *14*, x FOR PEER REVIEW 9 of 22

**Figure 5.** Beginning of the sequentiary (E-TO 135, f. 39r). @ Tortosa Chapter Library. Picture used with permission timonies further enhances the value of this Tortosa appendix. **Figure 5.** Beginning of the sequentiary (E-TO 135, f. 39r). @ Tortosa Chapter Library. Picture used with permission.

rope in our database, we could only identify a certain resemblance to six sources,10 all of which are later than E-TO 135 (i.e., from the 14th to the 16th centuries) and have an anthological nature centered on the figure of the Virgin Mary. This scarcity of comparable tes-

The Marian appendix comprises eight Alleluias, 21 sequences, an additional Alleluia, one Sanctus, and a final incomplete sequence. It can be considered a kind of anthology, specifically, a Marian anthology. In fact, the appendix lacks illuminated initials and rubrics assigning each item to a feast of the Virgin or other occasions, thus exhibiting a high degree of simplicity. The last incomplete sequence (*Uterus virgineus*), with the ambiguous rubric "Sancta Maria"—added by another hand that made corrections to the manuscript during the 14th century—is an exception. As with any anthology, liturgical versatility and interchangeability are essential traits of the repertory. In this regard, as previously men-

(**a**) (**b**)

It is worth noting that, out of the total of 32 items in the appendix, including the Sanctus (not troped), exactly a quarter (8) are *unica*: four out of nine Alleluias (as shown in Table 1) and four out of 22 sequences (as shown in Table 2). Moreover, while the remaining Alleluias have generally had very limited circulation, half of the sequences (11) have been disseminated to a greater or lesser extent among European sources. These figures indicate that almost two-thirds of the items have either had regional circulation, with E-TO 135 often being the earliest source, or that E-TO 135 is the only surviving record of them. Both scenarios suggest a limited use, which is well suited for a focused devotion or worship, such as that of the Virgin of the Girdle. Furthermore, even among the sequences that have been more widely disseminated, their association with Alleluias that are relatively uncommon confers a special character upon them. It is worth noting that, out of the total of 32 items in the appendix, including the Sanctus (not troped), exactly a quarter (8) are *unica*: four out of nine Alleluias (as shown in Table 1) and four out of 22 sequences (as shown in Table 2). Moreover, while the remaining Alleluias have generally had very limited circulation, half of the sequences (11) have been disseminated to a greater or lesser extent among European sources. These figures indicate that almost two-thirds of the items have either had regional circulation, with E-TO 135 often being the earliest source, or that E-TO 135 is the only surviving record of them. Both scenarios suggest a limited use, which is well suited for a focused devotion or worship, such as that of the Virgin of the Girdle. Furthermore, even among the sequences that have been more widely disseminated, their association with Alleluias that are relatively uncommon confers a special character upon them.

However, we must keep in mind that medieval mentality is not the same as our own. Even though these data indicate a high proportion of locally or regionally disseminated compositions, the sense of originality was far different from what we currently understand. In this way, a composition chosen for a particular aspect and used locally did not cease to be considered and felt as if it were "one's own," even in cases where it was widely spread and not composed ad hoc for a specific community. On the contrary, the weight of tradition, as attested by the general dissemination of a particular item, could even further authorize its suitability for a specific use. Only when the general corpus could not meet


**Table 1.** Alleluia concordances of Marian appendix (E-TO 135).



However, we must keep in mind that medieval mentality is not the same as our own. Even though these data indicate a high proportion of locally or regionally disseminated compositions, the sense of originality was far different from what we currently understand. In this way, a composition chosen for a particular aspect and used locally did not cease to be considered and felt as if it were "one's own," even in cases where it was widely spread and not composed ad hoc for a specific community. On the contrary, the weight of tradition, as attested by the general dissemination of a particular item, could even further authorize its suitability for a specific use. Only when the general corpus could not meet local needs did medieval creativity turn to the composition of new pieces, which ultimately tended to seek to present themselves with the appearance of pre-existing ones. We want to emphasize this idea because we believe it is essential to put the peculiar nature of our repertoire in its proper perspective in connection with the miracle and veneration of the Virgin of the Girdle.

From this perspective, with regard to the thematic connections of this anthologized repertoire with the main features that we have emphasized of the Virgin of the Girdle, it can be observed that they are plentiful and appear to multiply. Some examples of this can be found in the portrayal of the Virgin as "the beautiful and blessed woman, Queen of heaven, Lady (*dompna*) of the angels" in the sequence *Uterus virgineus* (Dreves et al., AH 54, No. 248; p. 389; Peláez Bilbao 2021, II No. 77, p. 961), which is already significant enough in its incipit, "Virgin womb": can be observed that they are plentiful and appear to multiply. Some examples of this can be found in the portrayal of the Virgin as "the beautiful and blessed woman, Queen of heaven, Lady (*dompna*) of the angels" in the sequence *Uterus virgineus* (Dreves et al. 1886– 1922, AH 54, No. 248; p. 389; Peláez Bilbao 2021, II No. 77, p. 961), which is already significant enough in its incipit, "Virgin womb": can be observed that they are plentiful and appear to multiply. Some examples of this can be found in the portrayal of the Virgin as "the beautiful and blessed woman, Queen of heaven, Lady (*dompna*) of the angels" in the sequence *Uterus virgineus* (Dreves et al. 1886– 1922, AH 54, No. 248; p. 389; Peláez Bilbao 2021, II No. 77, p. 961), which is already significant enough in its incipit, "Virgin womb": can be observed that they are plentiful and appear to multiply. Some examples of this can be found in the portrayal of the Virgin as "the beautiful and blessed woman, Queen of heaven, Lady (*dompna*) of the angels" in the sequence *Uterus virgineus* (Dreves et al. 1886– 1922, AH 54, No. 248; p. 389; Peláez Bilbao 2021, II No. 77, p. 961), which is already significant enough in its incipit, "Virgin womb": *Religions* **2023**, *14*, x FOR PEER REVIEW 12 of 22 can be observed that they are plentiful and appear to multiply. Some examples of this can be found in the portrayal of the Virgin as "the beautiful and blessed woman, Queen of heaven, Lady (*dompna*) of the angels" in the sequence *Uterus virgineus* (Dreves et al. 1886– 1922, AH 54, No. 248; p. 389; Peláez Bilbao 2021, II No. 77, p. 961), which is already signif-

*Religions* **2023**, *14*, x FOR PEER REVIEW 12 of 22

*Religions* **2023**, *14*, x FOR PEER REVIEW 12 of 22

*Religions* **2023**, *14*, x FOR PEER REVIEW 12 of 22

In *Ave virgo virginum/Ave salus hominum* (Dreves et al. 1886–1922, AH 42, No. 65; p. 75; Peláez Bilbao 2021, II No. 73, p. 911), the Virgin is addressed as the beloved, with the In *Ave virgo virginum/Ave salus hominum* (Dreves et al., AH 42, No. 65; p. 75; Peláez Bilbao 2021, II No. 73, p. 911), the Virgin is addressed as the beloved, with the words "Hail, my joy, love and solace! Be my beginning and end in your praise": In *Ave virgo virginum/Ave salus hominum* (Dreves et al. 1886–1922, AH 42, No. 65; p. 75; Peláez Bilbao 2021, II No. 73, p. 911), the Virgin is addressed as the beloved, with the words "Hail, my joy, love and solace! Be my beginning and end in your praise": In *Ave virgo virginum/Ave salus hominum* (Dreves et al. 1886–1922, AH 42, No. 65; p. 75; Peláez Bilbao 2021, II No. 73, p. 911), the Virgin is addressed as the beloved, with the words "Hail, my joy, love and solace! Be my beginning and end in your praise": In *Ave virgo virginum/Ave salus hominum* (Dreves et al. 1886–1922, AH 42, No. 65; p. 75; Peláez Bilbao 2021, II No. 73, p. 911), the Virgin is addressed as the beloved, with the

words "Hail, my joy, love and solace! Be my beginning and end in your praise":

As the Mother Protectress, the Virgin is referred to as "Mother of the world, Lady; let not our crimes destroy us, bring your help" in *Ave mater gratiae/Speculum ecclesiae* (Dreves As the Mother Protectress, the Virgin is referred to as "Mother of the world, Lady; let not our crimes destroy us, bring your help" in *Ave mater gratiae/Speculum ecclesiae* (Dreves et al. 1886–1922, AH 34, No. 113, p. 95; Peláez Bilbao 2021, II No. 69, p. 890): As the Mother Protectress, the Virgin is referred to as "Mother of the world, Lady; let not our crimes destroy us, bring your help" in *Ave mater gratiae/Speculum ecclesiae* (Dreves et al., AH 34, No. 113, p. 95; Peláez Bilbao 2021, II No. 69, p. 890): As the Mother Protectress, the Virgin is referred to as "Mother of the world, Lady; let not our crimes destroy us, bring your help" in *Ave mater gratiae/Speculum ecclesiae* (Dreves et al. 1886–1922, AH 34, No. 113, p. 95; Peláez Bilbao 2021, II No. 69, p. 890): As the Mother Protectress, the Virgin is referred to as "Mother of the world, Lady; let not our crimes destroy us, bring your help" in *Ave mater gratiae/Speculum ecclesiae* (Dreves et al. 1886–1922, AH 34, No. 113, p. 95; Peláez Bilbao 2021, II No. 69, p. 890):

et al. 1886–1922, AH 34, No. 113, p. 95; Peláez Bilbao 2021, II No. 69, p. 890):

As a holy womb deserving of praise, the Virgin is hailed with the words "Thy, who close God in your womb, will deserve the highest praises, songs and announcements" in *Promereris summae laudis* (Dreves et al. 1886–1922, AH 34, No. 79, p. 71; Peláez Bilbao 2021, As a holy womb deserving of praise, the Virgin is hailed with the words "Thy, who close God in your womb, will deserve the highest praises, songs and announcements" in *Promereris summae laudis* (Dreves et al. 1886–1922, AH 34, No. 79, p. 71; Peláez Bilbao 2021, As a holy womb deserving of praise, the Virgin is hailed with the words "Thy, who close God in your womb, will deserve the highest praises, songs and announcements" in *Promereris summae laudis* (Dreves et al. 1886–1922, AH 34, No. 79, p. 71; Peláez Bilbao 2021, II No. 75, p. 930): As a holy womb deserving of praise, the Virgin is hailed with the words "Thy, who close God in your womb, will deserve the highest praises, songs and announcements" in *Promereris summae laudis* (Dreves et al., AH 34, No. 79, p. 71; Peláez Bilbao 2021, II No. 75, p. 930): As a holy womb deserving of praise, the Virgin is hailed with the words "Thy, who close God in your womb, will deserve the highest praises, songs and announcements" in *Promereris summae laudis* (Dreves al. 1886–1922, AH 34, No. 79, p. 71; Peláez Bilbao 2021, II No. 75, p. 930):

Referring to the girdle that encircled her waist, which is accessible to all, the sequence

Referring to the girdle that encircled her waist, which is accessible to all, the sequence *Nativitas Mariae virginis* (Dreves et al. 1886–1922, AH 54, No. 188, p. 288; Peláez Bilbao

Referring to the girdle that encircled her waist, which is accessible to all, the sequence *Nativitas Mariae virginis* (Dreves et al. 1886–1922, AH 54, No. 188, p. 288; Peláez Bilbao

Referring to the girdle that encircled her waist, which is accessible to all, the sequence *Nativitas Mariae virginis* (Dreves et al. 1886–1922, AH 54, No. 188, p. 288; Peláez Bilbao 847):

847):

Referring to the girdle that encircled her waist, which is accessible to all, the sequence *Nativitas Mariae virginis* (Dreves et al., AH 54, No. 188, p. 288; Peláez Bilbao 2021, II No. 62, p. 799) proclaims, "The virginal Son of the womb condoled with humankind. Infants and the elderly are girded for the praise of the Virgin": 2021, II No. 62, p. 799) proclaims, "The virginal Son of the womb condoled with humankind. Infants and the elderly are girded for the praise of the Virgin": *Religions* **2023**, *14*, x FOR PEER REVIEW 13 of 22 2021, II No. 62, p. 799) proclaims, "The virginal Son of the womb condoled with human-

*Religions* **2023**, *14*, x FOR PEER REVIEW 13 of 22

Or finally, for the sake of brevity, she is also portrayed as the emblematic figure of all women in labor, with the words "Hail, Mother of the true Solomon, the fleece of Gideon, to whom the magi with three gifts praise the childbirth" in *Verbum bonum et suave/Personemus* (Dreves et al. 1886–1922, AH 54, No. 218, p. 343; Peláez Bilbao 2021, II No. 66, p. Or finally, for the sake of brevity, she is also portrayed as the emblematic figure of all women in labor, with the words "Hail, Mother of the true Solomon, the fleece of Gideon, to whom the magi with three gifts praise the childbirth" in *Verbum bonum et suave/Personemus* (Dreves et al., AH 54, No. 218, p. 343; Peláez Bilbao 2021, II No. 66, p. 847): Or finally, for the sake of brevity, she is also portrayed as the emblematic figure of all women in labor, with the words "Hail, Mother of the true Solomon, the fleece of Gideon, to whom the magi with three gifts praise the childbirth" in *Verbum bonum et suave/Personemus* (Dreves et al. 1886–1922, AH 54, No. 218, p. 343; Peláez Bilbao 2021, II No. 66, p.

In this simple thematic sampling of the appendix, at least two highly interesting aspects of our hypothesis are evident. The first is that the connections of each of the themes with the veneration of the Virgin of the Girdle develop independently of whether a sequence has wide or limited diffusion. This corroborates our basic idea that there is no positive or negative balance between the assumption of pre-existing repertoire and the In this simple thematic sampling of the appendix, at least two highly interesting aspects of our hypothesis are evident. The first is that the connections of each of the themes with the veneration of the Virgin of the Girdle develop independently of whether a sequence has wide or limited diffusion. This corroborates our basic idea that there is no positive or negative balance between the assumption of pre-existing repertoire and the composition of a new one to meet a local need. Simply put, all sequences are viewed as "proper". In this simple thematic sampling of the appendix, at least two highly interesting aspects of our hypothesis are evident. The first is that the connections of each of the themes with the veneration of the Virgin of the Girdle develop independently of whether a sequence has wide or limited diffusion. This corroborates our basic idea that there is no positive or negative balance between the assumption of pre-existing repertoire and the composition of a new one to meet a local need. Simply put, all sequences are viewed as "proper".

composition of a new one to meet a local need. Simply put, all sequences are viewed as "proper". To illustrate this, let us take two of the examples presented here as extreme cases: *Promereris summae laudis* and *Nativitas Mariae virginis*. The former, cited as a reference to the deserving praises and songs of the womb that housed the Son of God, has a very restricted diffusion, with only four other sources besides E-TO 135. Of these, the oldest is E-Mbhmv 98 (from the end of the 12th century and the beginning of the 13th century), from the monastery of San Vicente de la Sierra (Toledo), also belonging to the regular canons of Saint Ruf of Avignon. Then we have E-TO 133 (from the end of the 13th century), from the cathedral of Tortosa, and finally, the two-voice version given by the Cistercian Las Huelgas Codex E-BUlh 11 (c. 1320), which also includes I-Rvat vat 4743 (c. 1400–1410), a Franciscan missal from Gubbio. Therefore, the diffusion of *Promereris summae laudis* seems to stem from the charisma of the Rufinians, to spread, probably through Toledo, to Las Huelgas and from there to some Franciscans in the heart of Italy. But beyond now delving into the fascinating question of the transfer of this chant between different centers (Tello Ruiz-Pérez 2006), we would like to point out the fact that, in each and every one of them, its presence could have different nuances and yet, in all of them, it would be felt as a proper chant by each community, regardless of the origin of the chant (Rufinian, Cistercian or Franciscan). At the opposite end, we have the second example, *Nativitas Mariae*  To illustrate this, let us take two of the examples presented here as extreme cases: *Promereris summae laudis* and *Nativitas Mariae virginis*. The former, cited as a reference to the deserving praises and songs of the womb that housed the Son of God, has a very restricted diffusion, with only four other sources besides E-TO 135. Of these, the oldest is E-Mbhmv 98 (from the end of the 12th century and the beginning of the 13th century), from the monastery of San Vicente de la Sierra (Toledo), also belonging to the regular canons of Saint Ruf of Avignon. Then we have E-TO 133 (from the end of the 13th century), from the cathedral of Tortosa, and finally, the two-voice version given by the Cistercian Las Huelgas Codex E-BUlh 11 (c. 1320), which also includes I-Rvat vat 4743 (c. 1400–1410), a Franciscan missal from Gubbio. Therefore, the diffusion of *Promereris summae laudis* seems to stem from the charisma of the Rufinians, to spread, probably through Toledo, to Las Huelgas and from there to some Franciscans in the heart of Italy. But beyond now delving into the fascinating question of the transfer of this chant between different centers (Tello Ruiz-Pérez 2006), we would like to point out the fact that, in each and every one of them, its presence could have different nuances and yet, in all of them, it would be felt as a proper chant by each community, regardless of the origin of the chant (Rufinian, Cistercian or Franciscan). At the opposite end, we have the second example, *Nativitas Mariae virginis*, with more than 80 agreeing sources from all the most important traditions of Europe, and in which E-TO 135 is the earliest peninsular testimony. Yet, we can reasonably To illustrate this, let us take two of the examples presented here as extreme cases: *Promereris summae laudis* and *Nativitas Mariae virginis*. The former, cited as a reference to the deserving praises and songs of the womb that housed the Son of God, has a very restricted diffusion, with only four other sources besides E-TO 135. Of these, the oldest is E-Mbhmv 98 (from the end of the 12th century and the beginning of the 13th century), from the monastery of San Vicente de la Sierra (Toledo), also belonging to the regular canons of Saint Ruf of Avignon. Then we have E-TO 133 (from the end of the 13th century), from the cathedral of Tortosa, and finally, the two-voice version given by the Cistercian Las Huelgas Codex E-BUlh 11 (c. 1320), which also includes I-Rvat vat 4743 (c. 1400–1410), a Franciscan missal from Gubbio. Therefore, the diffusion of *Promereris summae laudis* seems to stem from the charisma of the Rufinians, to spread, probably through Toledo, to Las Huelgas and from there to some Franciscans in the heart of Italy. But beyond now delving into the fascinating question of the transfer of this chant between different centers (Tello Ruiz-Pérez 2006), we would like to point out the fact that, in each and every one of them, its presence could have different nuances and yet, in all of them, it would be felt as a proper chant by each community, regardless of the origin of the chant (Rufinian, Cistercian or Franciscan). At the opposite end, we have the second example, *Nativitas Mariae virginis*, with more than 80 agreeing sources from all the most important traditions of Europe, and in which E-TO 135 is the earliest peninsular testimony. Yet, we can reasonably assert the same governing

*virginis*, with more than 80 agreeing sources from all the most important traditions of Europe, and in which E-TO 135 is the earliest peninsular testimony. Yet, we can reasonably principle. This sequence, cited here as a paradigm of reference to the girdle that girds (an expression found only in five other sequences out of a corpus of over 4700), would equally enjoy the same proper status during its life in each of the monasteries and convents, churches, and cathedrals in which it was employed over time. The important thing in both cases is to adequately meet a repertoire need that may respond to different conditions but certainly not to our modern concept of originality.

The second aspect of interest in our sample is the style of the sequences, all from the second period, which emerges as a push towards poetic and musical regularity in the midst of the 12th century. At this point, the Marian appendix of E-TO 135 attests to a common and pan-European taste, regardless of the fact that the style originated in a very specific context, the Abbey of Saint Victor in Paris. Once again, the fact that it is widespread does not hinder its use in Tortosa with a sense of local response to singing to the honored Virgin Mary, who delivered her girdle in the cathedral.

#### **4. Conclusions**

Given that the devotion that arose after the apparition of the Virgin of the Girdle in the cathedral of Tortosa (1178) does not seem to have reached its splendor until centuries later, as criticism has pointed out, this article has demonstrated that there is sufficient evidence to suggest that there was early veneration both in the popular and liturgical context shortly after the miracle. In fact, both dimensions have a relationship of dependency with respect to the miracle itself but of interdependence between them. The peculiarities of the Marian appendix in E-TO 135 meet all the conditions to be the product of a specific veneration towards the Virgin within the walls of the cathedral, exactly as in the popular realm, the protection and shelter of the Virgin of the Girdle and her relic were sought, particularly in difficult childbirths.

In addition to the fact that it is a purely Marian appendix and the promotion of fidelity and praise to Saint Mary by the people of Tortosa, the most interesting aspects of all these peculiarities in both interdependent contexts can be summarized in six points:


interdependent realities, which embody an early impulse of faith and dedication of the entire city of Tortosa to the Virgin Mary.

As a whole, these peculiarities shape an incipient piety towards the girdle and the new Marian advocation in the 13th century, at least among the members of the cathedral chapter, that is, the regular canons of Saint Ruf of Avignon, in whose charism Mary was already deeply rooted. However, the veneration of the relic for the protection of difficult childbirths, documented as early as 1357, also denotes a popular devotion that culminated in the 17th century. The current state of this fervor was recently described by the bishop of Tortosa, H.E. Msgr. Enrique Benavent Vidal, during his audience with Pope Francis in the company of the Archconfraternity of the Virgin of the Girdle of Tortosa, as follows:

This girdle, which in material terms is that of a poor girl, is the most precious treasure our Cathedral conserves (*lo mostre tresor*). For centuries it has been the bond that binds the hearts of the people of Tortosa to that of the Virgin, uniting them in heaven and on earth, in life and in death. Thanks to this, devotion to the Blessed Virgin and the faith have been transmitted in our city from generation to generation. [ . . . ] It is a dedication that, from its origin (the feast of the Incarnation of the Lord), leads to the protection and care for the life of the unborn human being. During these years I have heard the testimony of pregnant women in difficulty who have protected the lives of their children entrusting them to the Virgin, and have experienced her protection over their unborn children. (Holy See Press Office 2019).

**Author Contributions:** Conceptualization, A.T.R.-P. and P.P.B.; methodology, P.P.B. and A.T.R.-P.; formal analysis, P.P.B. and A.T.R.-P.; investigation, P.P.B. and A.T.R.-P.; resources, P.P.B. and A.T.R.-P.; writing—original draft preparation, A.T.R.-P. and P.P.B.; writing—review and editing, A.T.R.-P. and P.P.B. All authors have read and agreed to the published version of the manuscript.

**Funding:** This research received no external funding.

**Conflicts of Interest:** The author declares no conflict of interest.

### **Appendix A**

**Table A1.** Complete inventory of E-TO 135 \*.



**Table A1.** *Cont.*


**Table A1.** *Cont.*


**Table A1.** *Cont.*

\*— Lacuna/( ) Texts or rubrics that were omitted or lost in the codex/(add.) Added later.

### **Notes**


[Lectio quarta]: Haec dum secum tacicus cogitaret: Ecclesiae ianuas cernens apertas, stans ad limen, ingentem intuitus est luminis claritatem: conspexit a capite Ecclesiae, usque ad ipsum limen sanctos Dei Angelos investibus albis per choros hinc inde stantes, accensos cereos albos habentes: quos tremens cum cernerer: illum nutu Angeli vocauerunt, sibi cereum accensum tradentes: et ut Altare ad maius accederet innuentes. Quibus assensit. Perrexit igitur ad Altare, cuius ad latus vidit mulierem speciofam valde, ornatam, sedentem in solio coronatam. Cui aderant stantes ad latera duo viri, quae illum intuens: eum accersiuit, et dixit illi. Tu Presbyter noscis me? Cui perterritus respondens Presbyter ait. Ego quamquam suspicer: plene tamen, domina te non noui. Tunc illa inquit Presbitero. Ego sum mater Dei: cui tu summe obsequia praestas. Hi duo viri hinc inde stantes praecipui sunt Christi Apostoli: a dextris Petrus Christi Vicarius, et Paulus doctor gentium a finistris.[Lectio quinta]: Tunc Presbyter flexis genibus dixit illi. O sacratissima Virgo Maria mater domini nostri Iesu Christi, et domina mea: unde hoc mihi, quod ego indignus Presbyter, et peccator merear te Reginam caeli viuens adhuc corpore intueri: Virgo autem Maria sacratissima dixit ei. Surge, ne timeas, tu quidem assidue mihi seruis infessus: propterea viuens in hoc seculo me videre: chorisque his interesse Angelicis meruisti. Et quoniam in honorem filij mei, et meum haec Ecclesia est constructa, et vobis Dertusensibus curae est me plurimum venerari, ideo quia diligo vos, pro quibus meum ad filium intercedo, soluens Cingulum, quo praecingor, a me fabricatum, super Altare illud pono, et vobis trado: ut hoc in pignus amoris mei memoriam habeatis. Et tu haec omnia Urbis Episcopo, Clero, et Populo reserabis. Et haec dicens soluit, et posuit super Altare Cingulum: tradens illud, dixit illi Presbyter. Cum sim solus, mihi si dixero haec, non credent, Virgo Maria pientissima dixit illi. Ecce Monachum maiorem habes contestem, qui est in choro: et haec omnia cernit ideo illis vos duo haec omnia, et singula referetis. Et visio his dictis euanuit. [ . . . ]" (Martorel y de Luna 1626, pp. 453–60).


and giving thanks to God, he came again into the Valley of Jehoshaphat.) (trans. Roberts and Donaldson 1951, pp. 593–94). See the discussion of the scene depicted in the main altarpiece of the cathedral in (Alanyà i Roig 2004, p. 61).


#### **References**

#### *Archival Source*


E-BUlh 11. Santa María de Las Huelgas (Burgos), Abbey Library, ms. 11 (*olim* 9). BMV Songbook. Sta. María de Las Huelgas (c. 1320).


#### *Published Source*


Vidal Franquet, Jacobo. 2008. La Baixada de la Cinta, 500 anys. Algunes qüestions d'iconografia. *Recerca* 12: 11–64. Available online: https://raco.cat/index.php/Recerca/article/view/179342 (accessed on 9 January 2023).

Vones-Liebenstein, Ursula. 1996. *Saint-Ruf und Spanien Studien zur Verbreitung und zum Wirken der Regularkanoniker von Saint-Ruf in Avignon auf der iberischen Halbinsel (11. und 12. Jahrhundert)*. Paris and Turnhout: Brepols.

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## *Article* **Mary's Transparent Beauty in St. Bernard's Aesthetics**

**Adrián Pradier**

Department of Philosophy, University of Valladolid, 47011 Valladolid, Spain; adrian.pradier@uva.es

**Abstract:** The subject of the beauty of the Virgin Mary was a delicate one in medieval aesthetic thought. Halfway between the sacred and the profane, the theological and the anthropological, the question of Mary's beauty opened up a strictly material dimension of appreciation that could generate problems related to decorum. However, the progressive humanization of Marian images from the thirteenth century onwards invites us to wonder if there was not, after all, a way to balance or, better, to sublimate the immaterial beauty of Mary, Mother of God, and material beauty of Mary, the young virgin of Nazareth. Taking as our leitmotiv a fictional scene from Umberto Eco's novel *The Name of the Rose*, we will analyze St. Bernard's position on this issue, because he was particularly influential on this matter in his own time and later, since his work brings together not only Marian concerns of deep theological depth, but also aesthetic questions that can contribute to clarifying this question.

**Keywords:** St. Bernard of Clairvaux; mariology; beauty; medieval aesthetics; medieval philosophy

### **1. By Way of Introduction: In the Company of Adso de Melk and Ubertino da Casale**

I would like to begin this paper by taking a walk through that mysterious abbey in Umberto Eco's *The Name of the Rose* (1980). Let us go to the church. We will meet two Franciscans there: the young novice Adso of Melk, the protagonist of the story, and an elderly Ubertino of Casale, a historical character. They speak in whispers. The themes revolve around the terrible end of the controversial Fra Dulcino, a subject which leads them to slightly more personal paths. In this way, one of the most poignant concerns that Umberto Eco deploys throughout his novel is undoubtedly the one related to the concupiscible desires of Adso. The fear, sometimes dread, that he manifests towards his own passions makes him a tormented character that reflects very well the aesthetic tensions of the period. Moved by the purpose of seeking advice from Ubertino, because he is an experienced man, he finds him prostrate before a column, on which there is a statue of the virgin. That sculpture is the same in front of which William of Baskerville and Adso, at the beginning of the story, had found Ubertino.

The description of sculptures that populate the tenebrous Benedictine monastery occupies a good part of the novel. One can appreciate here the influence that the interest in medieval aesthetics played in Eco's own career, to which he dedicated several works (Eco 1956, [1959] 1986). In the scene at hand, the statue is described in sufficient detail to give us a very approximate idea of it. The text reads: "Near the last chapel before the altar, in the left nave, stood a slender column on which a stone Virgin was set, carved in the modern fashion, with an ineffable smile and prominent abdomen, wearing a pretty dress with a small bodice, the child on her arm" (Eco [1980] 2004, p. 53).

The elements that, in an iconographic key, contribute to fix the appearance of the statue are, therefore, the following: a column specifically intended to exhibit devotional figures; a new fashion or manner in the design of the image of the Virgin and Child; a particular facial gesture—the smile—and a bodily detail—the belly; the clothing, which draws attention because it is beautiful or pretty; and, finally, the position of the child on her arm. Without further clues in the story than those indicated by Adso, but considering that 1327 is the year of the narrative, we can safely infer that such an image would be integrating a typology of the Virgin Mother originating in the French sculpture of the first

**Citation:** Pradier, Adrián. 2023. Mary's Transparent Beauty in St. Bernard's Aesthetics. *Religions* 14: 471. https://doi.org/10.3390/ rel14040471

Academic Editor: José María Salvador González

Received: 28 February 2023 Revised: 28 March 2023 Accepted: 29 March 2023 Published: 2 April 2023

**Copyright:** © 2023 by the author. Licensee MDPI, Basel, Switzerland. This article is an open access article distributed under the terms and conditions of the Creative Commons Attribution (CC BY) license (https:// creativecommons.org/licenses/by/ 4.0/).

third of the fourteenth century, which probably finds its maximum expression—or, at least, the most recognizable—in the Golden Virgin of the cathedral of Amiens, which "will mark the devotional sculpture of the century" (Martín Ansón 2002, p. 43). A brief glance at the sculptural panorama of the Madonnas in this period allows us to confirm that we are not only witnessing a flowering of the Marian cult cultivated throughout the previous century, but also a considerable diversification of Her images (Waller 2011, p. 32).

Umberto Eco's description, certainly concrete, is not trivial: on the one hand, it responds to contextual interests, since it serves to situate the narration temporally, an aspect that is undoubtedly relevant for any historical novel; on the other hand, it also serves as a material witness for the end of the conversation that Adso himself and Ubertino da Casale have about feminine beauty. Kneeling in front of the statue of the Virgin, their conversation, which dealt with the heresy of Fra Dolcino and the Apostolic Brotherhood, leads to the base instincts of Remigio da Varagine, the monastery's cellarer. Taking the latter as a counterexample, the old friar urges the young novice to initiate himself into "immaculate love" and, embracing him and pointing to the image of the Virgin, declares:

'There is she in whom femininity is sublimated. This is why you may call her beautiful, like the beloved in the Song of Songs. In her,' he said, his face carried away by an inner rapture, like the abbot's the day before when she spoke of gems and the gold of his vessels, 'in her, even the body's grace is a sign of the beauties of heaven, and this is why the sculptor has portrayed her with all the graces that should adorn a woman.' He pointed to the Virgin's slender bust, held high and tight by a cross-laced bodice, which the Child's tiny hands fondled. 'You see? As the doctors have said: *Pulchra enim sunt ubera quae paululum supereminent et tument modice, nec fluitantia licenter, sed leniter restricta, repressa sed non depressa* . . . What do you feel before this sweetest of visions?'. (Eco [1980] 2004, p. 221)

Umberto Eco exposes in this brief discourse one of the most important crossroads of medieval aesthetic thought: the possibility of a disinterested contemplation of matter capable of sublimating it and turning it into an occasion for elevation. In order to present the stress elements, he invokes two key voices, halfway between fiction and history—voices which he had already used in his work *Apocalittici e integrati* (Eco [1964] 1994, pp. 17–19) to illustrate two types of position vis-à-vis mass culture: the first character, Abbone, abbot of the fictitious monastery, a reflection of another historical abbot, Suger of Saint-Denis, also a Benedictine and a lover of the beatific power of precious stones in devotional spaces; the second one, present in Ubertino's literal quotation, is Gilbertus of Hoyt, who was, according to tradition, the first continuator to the exegetical work of St. Bernard of Clairvaux in relation to the Song of Songs, today conceived as a "work in progress" (Pranger 1994, p. 22). In other words, in Ubertino's quote, St. Bernard of Clairvaux is present, the main spiritual impugner of the 12th century and the driving force behind the Cistercian reform . . . and its artistic expression.

As we know, both figures, Suger and St. Bernard, embodied two completely different ways of confronting material delights: while the latter wrote that "those of us who have come out of the people" are precisely those who consider the beauty of material things "as garbage" (*ut stercora*) (Bernardus Claraevallensis 1854a, col. 915a)<sup>1</sup> , the other, possibly influenced by the aesthetic theology of Hugues de Saint-Victor (Poirel 2001, pp. 141–70), interpreted the contemplation of material objects, in their aesthetic properties, as meditative occasion (Pradier 2022), suitable for a mystical ascent of anagogical character (*more anagogico*), in which Suger was "transferred from the material to the immaterial" (*de materialibus ad immaterialia transferendo*) (Suger of St. Denis 2018, p. 106; Suger de St. Denis 1867, p. 198)<sup>2</sup> . What is interesting, in this case, is that aesthetic tension between one and the other way of facing material charms does not develop in relation to the role of plastic arts in religious spaces—a genuine controversy of the aesthetic thought of the twelfth century, but around the feminine beauty through the figure of Virgin Mary. However, Ubertino's choice of words borders on a total lack of decorum in such a delicate matter. What is the proper way to address Her in aesthetic terms? Is it appropriate to speak of Her material beauty, that is,

Her bodily beauty? Is She beautiful in a strictly aesthetic sense? And, if these questions can be asked, how should they be articulated?

If there is one medieval author who dedicated a large part of his theological reflection to the figure of the Virgin Mary, it was undoubtedly St. Bernard of Clairvaux. On the other hand, in him also converge deep aesthetic concerns about the desirability of cultivating a type of inner beauty based on the cultivation of virtues, as opposed to the external beauty of matter. His position will contribute to the formation of an aesthetic discourse on the beauty of Mary which, after all, serves to indicate the appropriateness of a certain aesthetic attitude towards her image and, at the same time, shape a spiritual theory on beauty of deep philosophical depth. Accordingly, my presentation will be organized as follows: first, I analyze St. Bernard's theory of humility as the basis for all his subsequent aesthetic developments; second, I study the counterpoint to Mary's beauty in the biblical figure of Dinah, the young and beautiful daughter of Jacob, who, in contrast to Mary, embodies the exercise of curiosity as an occasion for personal downfall; finally, I present Mary's beauty in terms of transparent beauty. In other words, Her beauty, which is inner, is also based on the supreme virtue of humility, which is what, in some way, makes it shine, anticipate itself or, better, transparent itself in Mary's body. Her material beauty is only a consequence, a pale reflection of that other superior, immaterial beauty emanating from Her virtuous soul.

#### **2. Humility and Curiosity in St. Bernard's Thought**

The thesis that articulates St. Bernard's whole approach to the beauty of Virgin Mary and, by extension, all feminine beauty—is founded on a general theory of humility, which "can be defined as follows: humility is a virtue by which a man humbles himself by the truest knowledge of himself" (Bernardus Claraevallensis 1854b, col. 942b)<sup>3</sup> . Therefore, the first step in addressing this delicate question consists in clarifying this point, whose foundational character reverberates throughout Bernardine's philosophical and theological thoughts. The Abbot of Clairvaux considered humility to be the touchstone against which to test the worth of any person dedicated body and soul to the encounter with the divine: actions, thoughts, omissions, and faults should thus be reviewed and evaluated in terms of humility and, consequently, of pride. To humble oneself is, in fact, "essentially to prove by acts of the body and of thought that one's own misery is known and that one judges oneself" (Gilson [1986] 2006, p. 95). It is necessary, however, a personal commitment to interior truth, in line with the Benedictine Regula, so that such judgment is not only said in words: it is fundamental that each one "believes it also in the depths of his heart" (Benedict Nursiae 1847, col. 374a) 4 . Only in this way is humility capable of revealing the fragility of oneself; the brokenness of humanity; the profound and unbearable lightness of life; the anguished solitude in which the evanescence of interpersonal bridges is revealed; the lightness of spirit; the complacent pleasure of passionate falls; and, in short, the evident contrast between the ontological richness of the human, as God's favorite work, and the ontic indigence of the individual, exposed to the elements.

St. Bernard's theory of humility, which runs through his entire oeuvre, was first formulated in a treatise of his youth written around 1118: *On the degrees of humility and pride* (*De gradibus humilitate et superbiae*). The purpose was to collect in writing his fundamental teachings of his catechesis, given by himself, to the Clairvaux cloisters (McGuire 2011, p. 30; Holdsworth 1994, pp. 58–60). Humility is thus at the summit (*culmen*) of all virtues, for it is the only one whose exercise, for those disposed (*dispositi*) to carry it out and who have surpassed all previous degrees, places men in a true contemplative attitude (*in speculatione*), situated (*positi*) to "see the truth" (Bernardus Claraevallensis 1854b, col. 942b)<sup>5</sup> .

Following Saint Benedict, each degree of possession of the truth in the way of humility corresponds to each of the twelve degrees of humility recognized by Saint Benedict of Nursia (Benedict Nursiae 1847, col. 371a–376a). Additionally, for each degree ascended on the path of contemplation, one descends on the path of pride, and vice versa. The image that serves to illustrate tropologically the whole "task of ascension" (*labor ascensionis*) coincides with the biblical account of Jacob's ladder. As is well known, Jacob saw in the course of

a dream a ladder which, "resting on the earth, touched the heavens with its head", and "the angels of God ascended and descended" (Gen. 28:12–15)<sup>6</sup> . Jacob's ladder represents for St. Bernard the ethical idea of the need to choose "between progress and failure" (*inter profectum et defectum*), dimensions that he considers absolute, mutually and logically exclusive; but, at the same time, it symbolizes the condition of the human spirit, exposed "always either to advance or to decay" (Bernardus Claraevallensis 1854d, col. 461d)<sup>7</sup> : "You need to go up or you need to go down: if you want to stand, you will fall" (Bernardus Claraevallensis 1854d, col. 224a)<sup>8</sup> . In other words, humility implies choosing and accepting the more than foreseeable defeats. At the same time, the twelve steps of the ladder, in correspondence with Benedictine indications, are not to be enumerated, but to be climbed (Bernardus Claraevallensis 1854b, col. 941c)<sup>9</sup> : the revelation of the ladder already implies, in a certain way, a form of ascent by which those to whom grace has been granted can ascend; that is, all the angels and saints, as well as men who are on their way to the first degree of the possession of truth, that is, humility.

If the path of humility implies a retreat from the exterior to the interior of oneself, the path of curiosity runs in the opposite direction and constitutes the first degree of ascent up the ladder of pride or the first step of descent from the summit of humility. From the ancient perspective of St. Augustine, curiosity was already considered a vice rather than a virtue, leading to the confusion of the faithful and the unhealthy search for sensual, rather than spiritual, gratifications. The position became more acute in the framework of the Cistercian theological thought of the 12th century, where St. Bernard characterized it as "the starting point of the degradation of the soul" and "the very negation of Cistercian asceticism" (Gilson [1986] 2006, p. 181)10. The reason for such a rejection finds its origin, besides in St. Bernard's own character, in a radicalization of the maxim *nosce te ipsum*. The search for the divine must begin with oneself, "but not only that, but in you it ends" (*non solum autem, sed et in te finiatur*) (Bernardus Claraevallensis 1854e, col. 745d)11. In this way, the Premonstratensian Adam Scott, for example, very influenced by St. Bernard (Ardura 1995, p. 116), considered that the reprobate "prostrate themselves" (*prosternuntur*) because of desire; "arise" (*eriguntur*) because of vanity; and "go forth" (*egrediuntur*) on account of curiosity "for the concupiscence of the eyes" (Adamus Scotus 1844, col. 454c-d)<sup>12</sup> .

St. Bernard's ideas on this subject are grounded in the practice of the Desert Fathers and in the thought of St. Augustine. There is, even if the idea of a St. Bernard reader of Pseudo-Dionysius is unlikely, a methodological coincidence with the practice of his negative theology. This is properly exercised by the purest souls and can be defined as a mode of contemplation characterized by its impulse towards the contemplation of the Divine through the negation of all things that are not God or do not point to Him (Williams 1999; Turner 1995, pp. 19–49; Roques 1949, pp. 209–10; Lossky 1939, pp. 213–14). Consequently, the specific movement of the soul ends up being "circular", a movement whereby the "entrance into itself of those which are outside it" takes place. This movement confers stability on the soul insofar as it maintains itself identical to the natural movement of the divine intelligences, which, being united to the Good-Beauty principle that attracts them, find their motor around Him. Logically, and due to the proximity of the former in relation to God, the movement from bottom to top becomes circular here (Pseudo-Dionysius Areopagite 1999, p. 141; 1857, col. 705a)13. In short, this is the path of negations, traced on a total adherence of the soul to the divine principle, in a recollection stripped of everything external and of every element foreign to itself.

This abyssal encounter of the soul with itself unfolds a bridge, given by God's grace, as far as the soul is allowed and as long as it has been freed from material burdens and the pleasures of sensibility. Any incursion into the "outside" (*foras*) could modify the meaning of the ascent journey and closing to the soul its possibility of "transcending" (*transcendere*) both the material world and itself: it is precisely within this idea, deeply rooted in the theological thought of the 12th century, that the famous Augustinian adage "do not want to go outside" (*noli foras ire*) takes on meaning and context (Augustinus Hipponensis

[1953] 1964, 1841a, col. 154)14. In reality, the best of beauty resides in the soul, so the soul must be loved more than the body. Its continuous exposure to corruption and passions makes it the door through which the attraction of matter enters and, consequently, also the pleasures aroused by the corresponding beauty, which are like anchors in the earthly world that hinder the advancement of spiritual perfection:

Of what do we consist? Of soul and body. Which of these is the better? Doubtless, the soul. What is praised in the body? Nothing else than beauty. What is beauty of the body? A harmony of its parts with a certain pleasing color. Is this form better when it is true or when it is false? Who could doubt that it is better when it is true? But, where is it true? In the soul, of course. Therefore, the soul is to be loved more than the body. But, in what part of the soul is that truth? In the mind and in the understanding. What is opposed to these? The senses. Therefore, it is clear that the senses are to be resisted with the whole force of the mind. But, what if sensible things give us too much pleasure? They must be prevented from giving pleasure. How? By the practice of renouncing them, and aiming at higher things. (Augustinus Hipponensis 1951, pp. 9–10; 1841b, col. 63)<sup>15</sup>

The Spanish Professor Luis Rey Altuna, who was a profound connoisseur of Augustinian aesthetics, wrote that "when St. Augustine, an interiorist observer if ever there was one, made psychological aesthetics, he did not walk any other path", namely "the observation and study of the aesthetic effects of the soul" (Rey Altuna 1945, p. 67). It is worth noting that this is not an observation of passions aroused in the soul in the face of the beautiful, but of the soul's own passions before itself: it welcomes beauty among its own attributes and gathers under it. In this way, for St. Bernard, too, the contempt for oneself and recognition of one's own misery, in word and in heart, not only reaches the spiritual dimension, but also the misery of the body. Where the immaterial beauty of the soul prevails, there is no room left for material beauty, which is only so in appearance, and which therefore only attracts the inexperienced people. To appreciate these delights and to desire to remain in them thus becomes a sign of weakness (*infirmitas*), which extends, ultimately, to the human body itself. This is a commonplace for Cistercian aesthetic thought, but also for Latin Fathers. For Boethius (1847, col. 742a), for example, "he who considers you beautiful does so not because of your nature, but because of the weakness of the eyes of the beholder"16. Compared to the beauty of the soul, the beauty of the body pales (Bernardus Claraevallensis 1854c, col. 901d)<sup>17</sup> .

#### **3. Biblical Figures of the Fall into Curiosity: Dinah and the Goatlings**

St. Bernard's theory of humility begins with self-contempt and interior recollection, in search of the most precious and beautiful thing in life: the immaterial soul. Under this general approach, it is obvious that "Cistercian artistic and aesthetic research will always lead us towards a conception of spiritual beauty" (Piñero 2000, p. 55). This implies recognizing it as the thing around which the task of one's salvation revolves: to care for the soul means to attend to it at every possible moment; to renounce everything that maintains us submerged under the pressure of trivial and therefore unnecessary external occupations; to discard, consequently, bodily pleasures. In this way, St. Bernard also opens the fight against senses, almost as if they were the progenitors of curiosity: they are the ones that make us go outside. Curiosity, consequently, finds its origin in a "defective self-knowledge" that is the cause of "an excessive interest in external things, frivolity of mind and heart" (Casey 2011, p. 103).

If it is already difficult to express the difficulties of a mystical encounter with the divine, it is even more difficult to communicate it to others (Lázaro Pulido 2022, pp. 983–84). For this purpose, he refers to the biblical figure of Dinah on at least two occasions: in *On the degrees of humility and pride* and in the *Sermons on the Song of Songs*. He was possibly supported by the identification that St. Isidore had established between the figure of Dinah and the soul (Isidorus Hispalensis 1850, col. 108a)<sup>18</sup> .

The first text reads as follows:

[ . . . ] (the soul) that, because of its laziness, is hindered in taking care of itself, becomes curious in the affairs of others. It does not know itself. That is why it is sent out to feed the goatlings. The eyes and ears are rightly called goatlings, symbols of sin; for just as death entered the world through sin, so it enters the soul through these windows. (Bernardus Claraevallensis 1854b, cols. 957b)<sup>19</sup>

The biblical account of Dinah, the daughter who Jacob had with Leah, plays a key role in the Bernardine theory of humility. The scene is focused on the following verse: "and Dinah the daughter of Leah went out to see the women of that country" (Gen. 34:1)<sup>20</sup> . Hamor, son of Shechem, falls in love with her and rapes her. It is interesting to note that, although in a certain way he partially releases Dinah from her total responsibility, he nevertheless locates the fault in the occasion that curiosity originally opened, which, as he himself expresses, "brings to light the experience of evil": "these steps you have in Dinah, the daughter of Jacob" (Bernardus Claraevallensis 1854f, cols. 578b-c). With extreme crudeness, St. Bernard reads the story by focusing on problems derived from the verb *videre* and the term *curiositas* attributed to Dinah: "Why did you have to go and browse foreign women; what necessity, what utility was imposed on you; was it out of sheer curiosity?" (Bernardus Claraevallensis 1854b, col. 958c)<sup>21</sup> .

Although you see idly, you are not seen idly. You observe curiously, but you are observed more curiously. Who would have thought then that your curious innocence, or your innocent curiosity, would be not only idle, but very pernicious to you, to your own and to your enemies? (Bernardus Claraevallensis 1854b, col. 958c)<sup>22</sup>

As can be seen, there are no goatlings in the biblical text. This is because St. Bernard is combining two figures: that of Dinah, daughter of Jacob, who goes outside to "see"; and that of the goatlings, which is taken from the *Sermons on the Song of Songs.* It is in this text that the bride, asking the members of the choir about the whereabouts of her bridegroom, receives the following answer: "If thou knowest not thyself, O fairest among women, go forth and follow in the steps of the flocks, and feed thy goatlings by the shepherds' tents" (Song of Songs 1:7)23. St. Bernard interprets this verse in the *De gradibus* as follows: the young bride, who represents the soul, is illustrated in the need to know herself in the context of a soliloquy, logically interior, before she is worthy to enter the King's chamber (*cellaria Regis*) (Song of Sg. 1, 3; 3, 4)24, that is, the space of mystical intimacy with the Lord, Christ. Conforming to the idea that she is not ready to accede, the soul must therefore go out to herd the goatlings (Bernardus Claraevallensis 1854b, col. 957c)25. The figure is frequently used by St. Bernard to illustrate those moments in which the soul reveals self-ignorance, more concerned with what is happening outside. We find the most clear explanation for this issue in the *Sermons on the Song of Songs*:

Terrible therefore, and a very fearful threat: "Go forth, and let your goatlings graze". Which is: "You know yourself unworthy of that familiar and sweet contemplation of heavenly, intelligible, and divine things. Wherefore go forth from my sanctuary, from your heart, where you used to draw sweetly the secrets and sacred senses of truth and wisdom; and more like one of the secular, feeding and entertaining entangle the senses of your flesh". (Bernardus Claraevallensis 1854c, cols. 963d–964a; see Bernardus Claraevallensis 1854d, col. 286a)<sup>26</sup>

However, every departure implies the risk of losing oneself, hence he himself writes: "For while Dinah was going out to let the goatlings graze, she herself was taken away from her father and her own virginity" (Bernardus Claraevallensis 1854b, col. 958c)27. The term *haedos* here means "goatlings", but its allegorical sense, according to St. Bernard, is that of "sin" (*peccatum*). Therefore, their care, their feeding, and, in general, any occupation related to their maintenance requires going outside. Hence St. Bernard goes so far as to identify the goatlings with "eyes and ears", for just as "death enters the world through sin, so it enters the mind through these windows". He continues:

The curious person, therefore, attends to these tasks, while he cares not to know in what manner he stays within. And truly if you pay attention to yourself in a watchful way, man, it will be a remarkable thing if you ever pay attention to anything else. Curious man, listen to Solomon! Listen, fool, to the wise man: "With all watchfulness keep thy heart, because life issueth out from it,"28, and all your senses be vigilant to guard that from which life springs. Curious! Where do you go when you turn away from yourself; to whom do you entrust yourself during that time; how dare you lift up your eyes to Heaven, you who sinned against Heaven? Look at the earth, so that you know yourself. It will represent you, for you are earth, and to earth you will go. (Bernardus Claraevallensis 1854b, col. 957c-d)<sup>29</sup>

St. Bernard was simply taking up a long tradition in which, contrary to the attitude of the Marian model, the attitude of Dinah, whose gaze is lost in the territory of desire, passions, or curiosity, is emphasized. Alain de Lille thought in this respect that the appetite for what is foreign is what leads the monk to look back, acting "like the wife of Loth" and withdrawing its "hand from the plow; like Dinah, the daughter of Jacob", for she craves "the ornament of strangers" (Alanus ab Insulis 1855, col. 190d)30; Thomas of Perseigne, or Thomas Cisterciensis, known for writing another commentary on the Song of Songs, wrote that death entered the world through the windows, symbol of the eyes, "just as it is said of Dinah, Jacob's daughter" (Thomas Cisterciensis 1850, col. 192b); finally, it is interesting to consider the position of Hugh of Saint-Victor, who, displaying his famous moderation, considers that the "force" (*vi*) that impels Dinah to look outside "does not go out to corrupt herself, but, nevertheless, by going out recklessly, she also suffered the losses of chastity against her will" (Hugo de S. Victore 1854, col. 639c)<sup>31</sup> .

Interesting is the position of Richard of St. Victor, who departs considerably from Bernardine ideas, not only in relation to the exculpatory treatment of Dinah, but also with regard to his aesthetic positions—largely indebted to Hugh's own convictions. In fact, he maintains the same perspective as his master, but his point of view is more exhaustive, detailed, and abundant, insofar as he throws a whole series of reasons to excuse or, at least, to understand and exculpate Dinah's fall. She represents "shame", but "ordered shame" (*intelligimus per Dinam nisi verecundiam, sed ordinatam*) (Richardus S. Victoris 1855a, col. 34a). In this sense, it is interesting how shame becomes an aesthetic criterion of a moral order, which is added to Dinah's own physical virtues and thus makes it possible to explain the strong attraction felt by others: "Dinah is of an admirable beauty and singular form, and that easily attracts the eyes of those who look at her with admiration, and quickly attracts the hearts of those who admire her with their love", for, indeed, "who does not know how the modesty of shame makes men both commendable and loved by all others? [ . . . ]. Emor is a witness to this matter, the son of Shechem, who was united to her with such ardent love that he would rather have all her males circumcised without delay than not have her" (Richardus S. Victoris 1855a, col. 36b-c)32. On this basis, Richard considers Dinah's beauty to be captivating for all of us (*captivamur*), and, far from thinking of it as an occasion of downfall, he sees it as an ingredient that deepens her beauty in a moral, behavioral root, rather than only physical. In fact, external beauty is increased by shame itself:

How else to explain the fact that we always embrace shy men with more affection than others, but that, while we marvel in them at the modesty of shyness and the grace of modesty, we are somehow attracted by the beauty of Dinah and captivated by the grandeur of her loveliness in her love? Oh, how singular is the beauty of this Dinah! (Richardus S. Victoris 1855a, col. 36b-c)<sup>33</sup>

Richard, like St. Bernard, also locates the occasion of downfall in Dinah's departure to the outside: "the integrity", he says, "that she might have been able to maintain inside, she loses it when she leaves". However, there is an elementary difference: for him, that departure does not take place according to an interest in the beauty of the other women, but to an edifying motive. The cause that has forced her to leave her innermost places and wander outward is the need to verify, in others, the presence of her own weaknesses: ashamed of herself, she goes outward with the purpose of learning about human condition. Hence, she looks "around her with curiosity at the shapes of women" and discovers "that sometimes they are very beautiful and sometimes they are less beautiful" (Richardus S. Victoris 1855a, col. 38a-b) <sup>34</sup>. Vainglory strikes her every time that, on the basis of this innate shame, she nevertheless receives the flattery of others, the praise, and, consequently, she then suffers consequences of her own corruption . . . but by a "kind of violence rather than by will, and resists as much as she can with the flattery of a perverse pleasure" (Richardus S. Victoris 1855a, col. 37d)35:

For as the beauty of shame is praised, praised and loved by almost all, Dinah is going out and abandoning her intimates, and soon forgetting the memory of her weakness, which had accustomed her to humiliate, she suddenly receives the praises of men, and while they soften her with favors, they corrupt her. [ . . . ], what do you think is the cause that has compelled her to leave her innermost recesses and wander abroad, but that we are often too ashamed of our weaknesses, so that perhaps others feel the same weaknesses in themselves, or at least our allies? So it happens that we begin to look more curiously at the affairs of others, now to look frequently around us at their faces, now at their gestures and the attitude of their whole body, ready to learn their secrets from the reports of others. (Richardus S. Victoris 1855a, col. 37c–38a)<sup>36</sup>

The difference between both authors, Richard and St. Bernard, consists in the figure chosen to speak about shame as a moral virtue: for the former, shame, when it is ordered, is represented by Dinah; hence, being beautiful, she is even more so. On the contrary, St. Bernard considers that shame is more appropriate for the Virgin Mary, not Dinah. Shame makes her even more pleasing in the eyes of God, as can be read in the *Homilies in Praise of the Virgin Mary* (*Sermones in laudibus Virginis Mariae*): "because the Virgin is shy, simple, shameful by nature" (Bernardus Claraevallensis 1854g, col. 57c)<sup>37</sup> .

With the exception of Richard and the School of St. Victor, the general idea treats the figure of Dinah as the counterpoint of a soul whose appetites are ordered according to its own divine nature. For St. Bernard, it is obvious that Dinah shows a series of gestures and actions contrary to humility, motivated by curiosity, and always centered on the position of the one who "looks outside". This subject leads to the question of what could be the motive that drives such a gaze, and since it is a gaze centered on matter—the shapes of other women—it is interpreted, then, that the driving force is material delight, ephemeral and subject to corruption and loss of self. St. Bernard does not deny, therefore, the aesthetic power of matter, but its correlative influence on the sensibility to divert attention from oneself. This approach implies a condemnation of curiosity at the same time as a rejection of material beauty, especially when compared to the beauty of the soul.

#### **4. Dinah's Counterpoint: Mary's Transparent Beauty**

The *Homilies in Praise of the Virgin Mary* (*Sermones in laudibus Virginis Mariae*) were probably written by St. Bernard around 1119–1120 (McGuire 2011, p. 32; Holdsworth 1994, pp. 36–39), that is, immediately after the writing of the treatise *On the degrees of humility and pride*. It is understandable, consequently, that they share the same perspective on the value of humility. These are four texts belonging to the genre of the homily since, in Leclerq's terms, the subject is not entirely free, but rather "the explanation of a biblical passage", "verse by verse" (Leclerq 1965, p. 314). It is not, therefore, a treatise or reflection on beauty, much less on the material beauty of Mary—which, we must remember, would imply on the part of St. Bernard a clumsy affirmation. However, there are sufficient propositions that point to a consideration of beauty in psychological terms, that is, in terms of a beautiful soul, which find their highest expression in the figure of Mary. In synthesis, Mary's beauty, as opposed to Dinah's, is based on the humility with which she accepts the task of her universal Motherhood.

The setting chosen by St. Bernard is that of the Annunciation. The main theme around which the four homilies revolve is the motif of the humility with which Mary (1) receives the Archangel Gabriel, keeping her head fixed on the ground, as can be seen in the most common iconographic types as a sign of humility and obedience (Salvador 2015); (2) welcomes the news; and (3) accepts her destiny. Our Lady is indeed "holy", "simple", and "devout" (Bernardus Claraevallensis 1854g, col. 59c)38. What is interesting is the way in which the Abbot of Clairvaux links one dimension with the other and establishes, in practice, his aesthetic theory of humility . . . or his moral theory of aesthetics based on the Marian example: "This is a beautiful (*pulchra*) combination of virginity and humility. God is very pleased with this soul, in which humility exalts virginity, and virginity adorns humility" (Bernardus Claraevallensis 1854g, col. 58d)39. Humility again becomes the pillar of discharge of all appreciable conduct, so that the Virgin Mary is thus insinuated as the perfect example in the exercise of two virtues, one of which, virginity, is commendable (*laudabilis*) and advised (*consulitur*), while the other, however, is indispensable (*necessaria*) and prescribed (*praecipitur*) (Bernardus Claraevallensis 1854g, col. 59a)<sup>40</sup> .

The beauty of the Virgin was not a taboo subject. On the contrary, it is a theme with strong patristic roots that can be traced, with particular intensity, in the texts of Ephrem the Syrian (ca. 306–373), although it is true that his "insistence" is centered, above all, on her "spiritual beauty and holiness, and on her freedom from any stain of sin" (Gambero [1991] 1999, p. 110). In this way, St. Bernard describes the Virgin as "adorned with the gems of the virtues" (Bernardus Claraevallensis 1854g, col. 62a)41. It is not the first time that he uses this metaphor to extol certain virtues: for example, he refers to the "gem of wisdom" (*gemma sapientiae*) (Bernardus Claraevallensis 1854h, cols. 814a)<sup>42</sup> or the "gem of shame" (*gemma pudoris*) (Bernardus Claraevallensis 1854d, col. 258d)43. It is interesting to see how the allegorical sense prevails over the purely aesthetic value of the gems. To appreciate the specific value enjoyed by these comparisons, it is necessary to recall the criticism that St. Bernard, around 1122 (McGuire 2011, p. 34; Holdsworth 1994, pp. 48–52), carried out in his *Apologia to Abbot William* (*Apologia ad Guillelmum abbatem*) about the use of precious stones, gold, and silver in conventual spaces.

The target of his criticism was the prominent visual culture of excess that, emanating from Cluny, seemed to spread little by little to the rest of the Benedictine monasteries. Therefore, as opposed to the usual criterion of Ovidian origin, whereby the artistic result was exalted for its superiority to the material, St. Bernard denounced a loss of the simple and plain nature of everyday things. In the words of Conrad Rudolf, "not only has the material surpassed the craftsmanship, it has surpassed nature itself" (Rudolf 1990, p. 60). St. Bernard's tropological use of precious stones thus reinforces the importance of inner as opposed to outer beauty: Mary's jewels are not exterior, they are interior. Mary's beauty is not essentially exterior, but only and fundamentally interior.

The beauty of Mary, however, does not end in a collection of metaphors, more or less elaborated, more or less articulated in an aesthetic discourse on spiritual beauty. Nor does it exhaust itself in revealing a certain aesthetic taste for precious stones. She is beautiful in two ways, "resplendent with the beauty of her mind and body alike, renowned for her appearance and beauty in the heavenly places" (Bernardus Claraevallensis 1854g, col. 62a)<sup>44</sup> . This is not indicative that both beauties walk separately, but rather that they are united under a hierarchical principle, I would say, of cause and effect. In reality, Mary's beauty, entirely dependent on her soul, is transparent, to the point that her own body receives such beauty and shines outwardly. This idea, which seems to breathe the same atmosphere of Neoplatonic theory of the period45, is founded, again, in the *Sermons on the Song of the Songs*, which St. Bernard would begin to draft—and left unfinished before his death—about fifteen years after composing his treatise on humility and his homilies on the Virgin (Casey 1988, p. 13; McGuire 2011, p. 45). The final thesis of this whole approach is that withdrawal into the interior is the condition of possibility that anticipates the triumphant appearance of exterior beauty:

When the love of this beauty has fully filled the most intimate parts of the heart, it must go beyond the doors and not be like a lamp lit under a bushel basket, but rather like a lamp that shines in a dark place and does not know how to hide itself. The body, mirror of the soul, receives this resplendent light that gives off brilliant rays, and diffuses it through the limbs and senses until every act, speech, appearance, movement and smile (if there is), take on splendour, as well as seriousness and complete decorum. When the movement, gesture and use of these and all the other members of the body are serious, pure, modest, devoid of all insolence and lewdness, foreign to weakness and indolence, but adjusted to the convenience and dictated by piety, the beauty of the soul will be patent, as long as the heart does not hide any duplicity. [ . . . ]. Happy is the soul clothed with this chaste beauty, with this mantle of celestial innocence, which enables it to claim a glorious conformity, not with the world, but with the Word, of whom it is said to be the radiance of eternal life (W. 7:26), the radiance and figure of the divine substance (Hebr. 1:3). (Bernardus Claraevallensis 1854c, col. 1193c–1193d)<sup>46</sup>

It is evident, therefore, that no description of Virgin Mary's charms is necessary, since her *interior* moral beauty anticipates her *exterior* physical beauty, which is only a reflection of the first. Conversely, in other words, there is no need for any exterior beauty, since it is the interior beauty that imposes itself on matter and shines, with the strength of the virtues, in the territory of the sensible appearance, when this latter is detached from matter<sup>47</sup> .

### **5. Conclusions and a Short Epilogue on Adso, Ubertino and the Sculpture of the Virgin**

As mentioned before, Virgin Mary's beauty was not a taboo subject in medieval aesthetic thought. It is evident, however, that there is a tension between the renunciation of Mary's material beauty—or, at least, of Her aesthetic appreciation—and the exaltation of Her moral beauty—which implies, in short, the development of a psychological or, if one prefers, spiritual aesthetic. In this sense, we consider that St. Bernard's solution is undoubtedly of interest. In his treatise, he establishes a theory of humility as the moral basis from which to appreciate Mary's beauty, a beauty that, consequently, is translucent, that is transparent in her body: Mary's beauty is, in reality, the perceptible effect of a suprasensible disposition.

It is obvious, therefore, that the role of matter in the aesthetic appreciation of Mary's body, under St. Bernard's consideration, is minimal, insofar as it only plays the role of vehicle of perceptual qualities, which are the ones that are properly considered. Under this consideration is placed the historical distinction between the "veneration" (*veneration*) of images, where they play a mediating role between the visible and the suprasensible, and their "adoration" (*adoratio*), where both the subject and its image are considered objects of worship and, therefore, subjects of idolatry. The liberation of the image from its specifically material rootedness, as something effectively emanating from its superior moral condition linked, in the Marian case, to the beauty of Her soul—neutralizes the status of the images as effectively material and thus eliminates the idolatrous risks in clear harmony with the theological results of the Synod of Paris of 825, according to which such distinctions were established<sup>48</sup> .

In this sense, the appreciation of Her material beauty would not make sense if it is not done expressly taking into account her condition as an immaterial result. If this is so, man's attention to devotional representations of Mary should attend not so much to the concrete materiality of figures, but rather to their appearance, detached from those pleasures provided only by direct contact with matter. This perspective situates the experience, in Hegel's terms, "in the middle between immediate sensuousness and ideal thought" (Hegel [1835] 1975, p. 38). Focusing attention on the material representation of Mary in this way implies paying attention to that which, "despite its sensuousness, is *no longer* a purely material existence either" [ . . . ]; on the contrary, the sensuous in the work of art

is something ideal, but which, not being ideal as thought is ideal, is still at the same time there externally as a thing" (Hegel [1835] 1975, p. 38).

Cistercian aesthetic thought, which finds in St. Bernard one of its best representatives, differs greatly from other thinkers of his time, especially Hugh and Richard of Saint-Victor. The senses, which for the latter are also windows of access to the visible world from which to deploy approaches to the invisible—as can be seen in Hugh's own positions in the *De arca Noe morali* (Hugo de S. Victore 1854)—pose a notable risk of moral and spiritual falling for St. Bernard. The same question arises in Richard's thought on the power of the visible to reach the invisible, where sensorial beauty plays an indisputable role (e.g., Richardus S. Victoris 1855b, col. 153c). This difference can also be seen in aesthetic questions: the resistance of the Cistercian to consider Mary's sensitive beauty as an aesthetic element of appreciation is only possible if it depends heteronomously on a prior moral condition that anticipates that beauty as a sort of emanation, while in the Victorian framework it could be contemplated, according to the texts, as another element of Mariological dignity, but in any case autonomous (Kovach 1974; Pradier 2022).

Let us now return to the meeting between Adso and Ubertino. We had left them in front of an image of the Virgin, probably carved following the model that Amiens and other similar types marked during that period. Ubertino explained to Adso that feminine beauty should be sublimated and, consequently, also that of the Virgin herself. When Ubertino "pointed to the Virgin's slender bust", he then quotes the words of another Cistercian scholar, Gilbert of Hoyt, author also of some *Sermones in Cantica Canticum Salomonis*. He writes there the famous sentence: "For beautiful breasts are those that protrude a little and swell moderately, not floating freely, but gently contained, contained but not depressed" (Gillebertus de Hoilandia 1854, cols. 163a-b).

Certainly striking is Gilbert's appreciation, which, however, always responds to the same Bernardine criterion: it is possible to appreciate beauty without the apparent physical and material necessity of its abuse. Elsewhere Umberto Eco writes that "only nowadays, perhaps, we can see that his gravity is suffused with a certain malice" (Eco [1959] 1986, p. 11). Both St. Bernard and Gilbert point to the possibility of appreciating things when there is nothing else to do—remember, in this regard, the previous requirement of withdrawing into the interior—in their purely sensory condition, separated from their material prison, and rejoicing in the encounter with the beautiful exterior because it constitutes a precious occasion for extolling the interior beauty, which is undoubtedly superior. It is obvious that Ubertino is testing poor Adso. This reminds us that beauty, in medieval thought, was always a limit experience, in need of a suprasensible meaning, in order to become an occasion of salvation.

**Funding:** This research received no external funding.

**Institutional Review Board Statement:** Not applicable.

**Informed Consent Statement:** Not applicable.

**Data Availability Statement:** The data on which this research is based is contained in full in the bibliography. Discussions with my colleagues in the areas of Aesthetics, Medieval Philosophy and Theology and Philosophy of Arts have greatly helped me to understand the information contained in these pages in depth.

**Acknowledgments:** I am grateful for the comments of the two anonymous reviewers, who have contributed to improve the present work. From here, my appreciation of their work.

**Conflicts of Interest:** The author declares no conflict of interest.

#### **Notes**

<sup>1</sup> *Apol. ad Guil.* XII, 28: *Nos vero qui iam de populo exivimus, qui mundi quaeque pretiosa ac speciosa pro Christo reliquimus, qui omnia pulchre lucentia, canon mulcentia, suave olentia, dulce sapientia, tactu placentia, cuncta denique oblectamente corporea arbitrari sumus ut stercora,* [ . . . ].

<sup>2</sup> *Adm*. XXXIII: *Unde, cum ex dilectione decoris domus Dei aliquando multicolor, gemmarum speciositas ab exintrinsecis me curis devocaret, sanctarum etiam diversitatem virtutum, de materialibus ad immaterialia transferendo, honesta meditatio insistere persuaderet, videor videre me quasi sub aliqua extranea orbis terrarum plaga, quae nec tota sit in terrarum faece nec tota in coeli puritate, demorari, ab hac etiam inferiori ad illam superiorem anagogico more Deo donante posse transferri*. *pulchre lucentia, canon mulcentia, suave olentia, dulce sapientia, tactu placentia, cuncta denique oblectamente corporea arbitrari sumus ut stercora,* […]. <sup>2</sup> *Adm*. XXXIII: *Unde, cum ex dilectione decoris domus Dei aliquando multicolor, gemmarum speciositas ab exintrinsecis me curis devocaret, sanctarum etiam diversitatem virtutum, de materialibus ad immaterialia transferendo, honesta meditatio insistere persuaderet, videor videre pulchre lucentia, canon mulcentia, suave olentia, dulce sapientia, tactu placentia, cuncta denique oblectamente corporea arbitrari sumus ut stercora,* […]. <sup>2</sup> *Adm*. XXXIII: *Unde, cum ex dilectione decoris domus Dei aliquando multicolor, gemmarum speciositas ab exintrinsecis me curis devocaret, sanctarum etiam diversitatem virtutum, de materialibus ad immaterialia transferendo, honesta meditatio insistere persuaderet, videor videre pulchre lucentia, canon mulcentia, suave olentia, dulce sapientia, tactu placentia, cuncta denique oblectamente corporea arbitrari sumus ut stercora,* […]. <sup>2</sup> *Adm*. XXXIII: *Unde, cum ex dilectione decoris domus Dei aliquando multicolor, gemmarum speciositas ab exintrinsecis me curis devocaret, sanctarum etiam diversitatem virtutum, de materialibus ad immaterialia transferendo, honesta meditatio insistere persuaderet, videor videre pulchre lucentia, canon mulcentia, suave olentia, dulce sapientia, tactu placentia, cuncta denique oblectamente corporea arbitrari sumus ut stercora,* […]. <sup>2</sup> *Adm*. XXXIII: *Unde, cum ex dilectione decoris domus Dei aliquando multicolor, gemmarum speciositas ab exintrinsecis me curis devocaret, sanctarum etiam diversitatem virtutum, de materialibus ad immaterialia transferendo, honesta meditatio insistere persuaderet, videor videre* <sup>1</sup> *Apol. ad Guil.* XII, 28: *Nos vero qui iam de populo exivimus, qui mundi quaeque pretiosa ac speciosa pro Christo reliquimus, qui omnia pulchre lucentia, canon mulcentia, suave olentia, dulce sapientia, tactu placentia, cuncta denique oblectamente corporea arbitrari sumus ut stercora,* […]. <sup>2</sup> *Adm*. XXXIII: *Unde, cum ex dilectione decoris domus Dei aliquando multicolor, gemmarum speciositas ab exintrinsecis me curis devocaret, sanctarum etiam diversitatem virtutum, de materialibus ad immaterialia transferendo, honesta meditatio insistere persuaderet, videor videre*

<sup>1</sup> *Apol. ad Guil.* XII, 28: *Nos vero qui iam de populo exivimus, qui mundi quaeque pretiosa ac speciosa pro Christo reliquimus, qui omnia*

<sup>1</sup> *Apol. ad Guil.* XII, 28: *Nos vero qui iam de populo exivimus, qui mundi quaeque pretiosa ac speciosa pro Christo reliquimus, qui omnia*

<sup>1</sup> *Apol. ad Guil.* XII, 28: *Nos vero qui iam de populo exivimus, qui mundi quaeque pretiosa ac speciosa pro Christo reliquimus, qui omnia*

<sup>1</sup> *Apol. ad Guil.* XII, 28: *Nos vero qui iam de populo exivimus, qui mundi quaeque pretiosa ac speciosa pro Christo reliquimus, qui omnia*

*Religions* **2023**, *14*, x FOR PEER REVIEW 12 of 16

*Religions* **2023**, *14*, x FOR PEER REVIEW 12 of 16

*Religions* **2023**, *14*, x FOR PEER REVIEW 12 of 16

*Religions* **2023**, *14*, x FOR PEER REVIEW 12 of 16

*Religions* **2023**, *14*, x FOR PEER REVIEW 12 of 16


This idea is taken (Rico Pavés 2001, p. 427) from Plotinus (1939, p. 330; *Enn.* VI, 9, 8, 3–5; 19), for whom, "except when there is a kind of break in it," the "natural movement" of the soul is "in a circle around something, something not external but a center, and the center is that from which the circle derives" (ἡ δὲ κατὰ φύσιν κίνησις οἵα ἡ ἐν κύκλῳ περὶ τι οὐκ ἔξω, ἀλλὰ περὶ κέντρον, τὸ δὲ κέντρον ἀφ'οὗ ὁ κύκλος, […]). This idea is taken (Rico Pavés 2001, p. 427) from Plotinus (1939, p. 330; *Enn.* VI, 9, 8, 3–5; 19), for whom, "except when there is a kind of break in it," the "natural movement" of the soul is "in a circle around something, something not external but a center, and the center is that from which the circle derives" (ἡ δὲ κατὰ φύσιν κίνησις οἵα ἡ ἐν κύκλῳ περὶ τι οὐκ ἔξω, ἀλλὰ περὶ κέντρον, τὸ δὲ κέντρον ἀφ'οὗ ὁ κύκλος, […]). This idea is taken (Rico Pavés 2001, p. 427) from Plotinus (1939, p. 330; *Enn.* VI, 9, 8, 3–5; 19), for whom, "except when there is a kind of break in it," the "natural movement" of the soul is "in a circle around something, something not external but a center, and the center is that from which the circle derives" (ἡ δὲ κατὰ φύσιν κίνησις οἵα ἡ ἐν κύκλῳ περὶ τι οὐκ ἔξω, ἀλλὰ περὶ κέντρον, τὸ δὲ κέντρον ἀφ'οὗ ὁ κύκλος, […]). This idea is taken (Rico Pavés 2001, p. 427) from Plotinus (1939, p. 330; *Enn*. VI, 9, 8, 3–5; 19), for whom, "except when there is a kind of break in it," the "natural movement" of the soul is "in a circle around something, something not external but a center, and the center is that from which the circle derives" ( This idea is taken (Rico Pavés 2001, p. 427) fromPlotinus(1939, p. 330; *Enn.* VI, 9, 8, 3–5; 19), for whom, "except when there is a kind of break in it," the "natural movement" of the soul is "in a circle around something, something not external but a center, and the center is that from which the circle derives" (ἡ δὲ κατὰ φύσιν κίνησις οἵα ἡ ἐν κύκλῳ περὶ τι οὐκ ἔξω, ἀλλὰ περὶ κέντρον, τὸ δὲ κέντρον ἀφ'οὗ ὁ κύκλος, […]). This idea is taken (Rico Pavés 2001, p. 427) from Plotinus (1939, p. 330; *Enn.* VI, 9, 8, 3–5; 19), for whom, "except when there is a kind of break in it," the "natural movement" of the soul is "in a circle around something, something not external but a center, and the center is that from which the circle derives" (ἡ δὲ κατὰ φύσιν κίνησις οἵα ἡ ἐν κύκλῳ περὶ τι οὐκ ἔξω, ἀλλὰ περὶ κέντρον, τὸ δὲ κέντρον ἀφ'οὗ ὁ κύκλος, […]). [ . . . ]).

<sup>14</sup> *De vera religione liber unus* XXIX, 72: "Do not go abroad. Return within your self. In the inward man dwells truth. If you find that you are by nature mutable, transcend yourself. But remember in doing so that you must also transcend yourself even as a reasoning soul. Make for the place where the light of reason is kindled. What does every good rea- soner attain but truth? And yet truth is not reached by reasoning, but is itself the goal of all who reason. There is an agreeableness than which there can be no greater. Agree, then, with it. Confess that you are not as it is. It has to do no seeking, but you reach it by seeking, not in space, but by a disposition of mind, so that the inward man may agree with the indwelling truth in a pleasure that is not low and carnal but supremely spiritual" *(Noli foras ire, in teipsum redi; in interiore homine habitat veritas; et si tuam naturam mutabilem inveneris, transcende et teipsum. Sed memento cum te trascendis, ratiocinantem animam te transcendere. Illuc ergo tende, unde ipsum* <sup>14</sup> *De vera religione liber unus* XXIX, 72: "Do not go abroad. Return within your self. In the inward man dwells truth. If you find that you are by nature mutable, transcend yourself. But remember in doing so that you must also transcend yourself even as a reasoning soul. Make for the place where the light of reason is kindled. What does every good rea- soner attain but truth? And yet truth is not reached by reasoning, but is itself the goal of all who reason. There is an agreeableness than which there can be no greater. Agree, then, with it. Confess that you are not as it is. It has to do no seeking, but you reach it by seeking, not in space, but by a disposition of mind, so that the inward man may agree with the indwelling truth in a pleasure that is not low and carnal but supremely spiritual" *(Noli foras ire, in teipsum redi; in interiore homine habitat veritas; et si tuam naturam mutabilem inveneris, transcende et teipsum. Sed memento cum te trascendis, ratiocinantem animam te transcendere. Illuc ergo tende, unde ipsum* <sup>14</sup> *De vera religione liber unus* XXIX, 72: "Do not go abroad. Return within your self. In the inward man dwells truth. If you find that you are by nature mutable, transcend yourself. But remember in doing so that you must also transcend yourself even as a reasoning soul. Make for the place where the light of reason is kindled. What does every good rea- soner attain but truth? And yet truth is not reached by reasoning, but is itself the goal of all who reason. There is an agreeableness than which there can be no greater. Agree, then, with it. Confess that you are not as it is. It has to do no seeking, but you reach it by seeking, not in space, but by a disposition of mind, so that the inward man may agree with the indwelling truth in a pleasure that is not low and carnal but supremely spiritual" *(Noli foras ire, in teipsum redi; in interiore homine habitat veritas; et si tuam naturam mutabilem inveneris, transcende et teipsum. Sed memento cum te trascendis, ratiocinantem animam te transcendere. Illuc ergo tende, unde ipsum* <sup>14</sup> *De vera religione liber unus* XXIX, 72: "Do not go abroad. Return within your self. In the inward man dwells truth. If you find that you are by nature mutable, transcend yourself. But remember in doing so that you must also transcend yourself even as a reasoning soul. Make for the place where the light of reason is kindled. What does every good rea- soner attain but truth? And yet truth is not reached by reasoning, but is itself the goal of all who reason. There is an agreeableness than which there can be no greater. Agree, then, with it. Confess that you are not as it is. It has to do no seeking, but you reach it by seeking, not in space, but by a disposition of mind, so that the inward man may agree with the indwelling truth in a pleasure that is not low and carnal but supremely spiritual" *(Noli foras ire, in teipsum redi; in interiore homine habitat veritas; et si tuam naturam mutabilem inveneris, transcende et teipsum. Sed memento cum te trascendis, ratiocinantem animam te transcendere. Illuc ergo tende, unde ipsum* <sup>14</sup> *De vera religione liber unus* XXIX, 72: "Do not go abroad. Return within your self. In the inward man dwells truth. If you find that you are by nature mutable, transcend yourself. But remember in doing so that you must also transcend yourself even as a reasoning soul. Make for the place where the light of reason is kindled. What does every good rea- soner attain but truth? And yet truth is not reached by reasoning, but is itself the goal of all who reason. There is an agreeableness than which there can be no greater. Agree, then, with it. Confess that you are not as it is. It has to do no seeking, but you reach it by seeking, not in space, but by a disposition of mind, so that the inward man may agree with the indwelling truth in a pleasure that is not low and carnal but supremely spiritual" *(Noli foras ire, in teipsum redi; in interiore homine habitat veritas; et si tuam naturam mutabilem inveneris, transcende et teipsum. Sed memento cum te trascendis, ratiocinantem animam te transcendere. Illuc ergo tende, unde ipsum* <sup>14</sup> *De vera religione liber unus* XXIX, 72: "Do not go abroad. Return within your self. In the inward man dwells truth. If you find that you are by nature mutable, transcend yourself. But remember in doing so that you must also transcend yourself even as a reasoning soul. Make for the place where the light of reason is kindled. What does every good rea- soner attain but truth? And yet truth is not reached by reasoning, but is itself the goal of all who reason. There is an agreeableness than which there can be no greater. Agree, then, with it. Confess that you are not as it is. It has to do no seeking, but you reach it by seeking, not in space, but by a disposition of mind, so that the inward man may agree with the indwelling truth in a pleasure that is not low and carnal but supremely spiritual" *(Noli foras ire, in teipsum redi; in interiore homine habitat veritas; et si tuam naturam mutabilem inveneris, transcende et teipsum. Sed memento cum te trascendis, ratiocinantem animam te transcendere. Illuc ergo tende, unde ipsum lumen rationis*

*accenditur. Quo enim pervenit omnis bonus ratiocinator, nisi ad veritatem? Cum ad seipsam veritas non utique ratiocinando perveniat, sed quod ratiocinantes appetunt, ip a sit. Vide ibi convenientiam qua superior esse non possit, et ipse conveni cum ea. Confitere te non esse quod ipsa est: siquidem se ipsa non quaerit; tu autem ad ipsam quaerendo venisti, non locorum spatio, sed mentis affectu, ut ipse interior homo cum suo inhabitatore, non infima et carnali, sed summa et spirituali voluptate conveniat).*


Again in Sermones in Cantica Canticorum XXXV, 2 (Bernardus Claraevallensis 1854c, 963b): "For goatlings—which signify sin, and are to be placed in judgment on the left side—are the wandering and malicious senses of the body, through which sin, like death through windows, entered into the soul" (Haedos quippe—qui peccatum significant, et in judicio collocandi sunt a sinistris—dicit vagos et petulantes corporis sensus, per quos peccatum, tanquam mors per fenestras, intravit ad animam).


#### **References**


Ardura, Bernard. 1995. *Prémontrés. Histoire et Spiritualité*. Saint-Étienne: Université de Saint-Étienne.


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