Eve of Wilton

Goscelin of Canterbury was a monk and writer of hagiographies, producing (among others) one of Saint Edith of Wilton while he was chaplain to the nuns of Wilton Abbey. He did not know her personally, having been born years after Edith died. There was, however, a young nun of Wilton whom he clearly knew very well and for whom he wrote something special.

Eve of Wilton (c.1058 - c.1125) was given to Wilton Abbey as a child by her Danish father when she was about seven years old, eventually becoming a Benedictine nun. Goscelin was the chaplain at the time, and seems to have taken a special interest in her.

She left the Abbey when she was 22, going to Normandy and Chalonnes-sur-Loire in the Anjou region. Apparently, Goscelin was unaware of her departure, and was bothered that he was not consulted on her change of venue. She became an anchoress, living in a small cell with a single window through which books and food were passed for her.

Goscelin was moved to write a book for her, the Liber confortatorius ("Book of Consolation"). It starts out:

O my soul, dearer to me than the light, your Goscelin is with you, in the inseparable presence of the soul. He is with you, undivided, in his better part, that part with which he was allowed to love you, that part which cannot be hindered by any physical distance. ... Since your soul mate cannot and does not deserve to visit you in the flesh, he now seeks you out with anxious letters and long laments. ...

God's provident mercy has afforded us the consolation that, though distant in space, we can be present to each other in faith and in writing. Despite these torments of separation, which I deserved because of my crimes [italics are mine], a letter shuttling back and forth can reconnect us and keep us warm.

You have relinquished me and banished me from your sight, but your love will be able to see me in your reading and to take in my voice and my sighing words, using your eyes for ears ... Therefore do not think me cut off from you. 

The second paragraph's "which I deserved because of my crimes" suggests an Abelard and Heloise situation, an improper relationship between a male mentor and a female mentee in a religious setting. The Liber seems to be a guide for anchoresses, predating the Ancrene Wisse by several decades, but describes their relationship in a way that has caused modern readers to describe it as a "love letter."

The two never met again, and Goscelin encourages anyone finding the book to somehow get it to her.

We don't know if Eve ever saw the book written for her. Her life as an anchoress took an unusual turn. Anchoresses and anchorites usually stayed in their cell until death, but Eve forsook the anchoress life to live with a former monk named Hervé. This was highly unexpected, but we are told they were given approval by an abbot, Geoffrey of Vendôme.

The story of her on the continent was written about by an English poet called Hilary the Englishman. I want to talk about him next time.

Margaret Kirkby

Margaret Kirkby (c.1322 - 1391/4 CE) was an anchoress in a couple locations in England. Although she withdrew from public life to devote herself to a contemplative life worshipping God (in a cell like the illustration to the left), we  actually know quite a bit about her.

Growing up in a landowning family in Ravensworth, North Yorkshire, she made the acquaintance of Richard Rolle, the spiritual director of the Cistercian convent at Hampole. He wrote for her an English translation of the Psalms, with commentary relating the Psalms (which are, technically, songs) with his concept of canor, the idea that sound—specifically through singing things like the Psalms—can link the devout to God.

Rolle wrote his own version of the Ancrene Wisse, called The Form of Living, in which he warned her of the difficulties she would face as an anchoress cut off from his guidance. He also sent her copies of other of his writings.

Margaret Kirkby and Richard Rolle had an interesting relationship. She suffered from seizures while in her cell, and Rolle would sit at the window to her cell and comfort her with her head on his shoulder.

Margaret's career as an anchoress took an unusual turn in 1357 when she was allowed to leave her cell in Hampole and enter a cell at a church in Ainderby that would allow her to observe Mass. Remarkably, she reversed this in the early 1380s, returning to the Hampole convent for her remaining years.

Anchorites were not too numerous, and having an extremely devout person sealed away in the church (or some other building's) wall was rare enough that the spectacle drew visitors and donors. A silver ewer was bequeathed to her by one of her patrons, Sir Bryan Stapleton, in 1394. She did not get to enjoy its use for long, however, since she died in 1394.

The man who guided her to and through the religious life, Richard Rolle, became one of the most widely read authors in the hundred years after he died. We will meet Richard Rolle next time.

A Manual for Nuns

Sometimes, devoting yourself to a religious life meant a life of service: going out into the world to help others. Sometimes, pursuing a religious calling meant withdrawing from the world as a hermit, living simply on your own in order to contemplate God. Sometimes, the withdrawal was more severe, and your desire to withdraw from the world meant enclosing yourself in a small space and avoiding contact with the world. The men and women who took this path were called anchorites and anchoresses.

Many anchoritic cells still exist—called anchorholds—small cells built into the walls of local village churches. They might have three windows: one facing the altar for observing Mass, one for food and drink to be passed into the anchoress, one for light from the outside.

The Ancrene Wisse (Old English: "Rule of Anchoresses) was written in the early 13th century as a guide for young women wishing to live the anchoress life. The context tells us it was written for three young women known to the author. We can also guess approximately where it was written—or at least where the author grew up—because of the West Midlands dialect used.

Because medieval manuscripts were copied by hand, mistakes could be made. There are nine copies of the Ancrene Wisse in various British libraries with tiny alterations, but the main message is the same. One of the pieces of advice is: 

No anchorite, by my advice, shall make profession, that is, vow to keep any thing as commanded, except three things, that is, obedience, chastity, and constancy as to her abode; that she shall never more change her convent, except only by necessity, as compulsion and fear of death, obedience to her bishop or superior;

 and when you wake in the morning:

When you are quite dressed, sprinkle yourselves with holy water, which you should have always with you, and think upon God’s flesh, and on his blood, which is over the high altar, and fall on your knees toward it, with this salutation, “Hail, thou author of our creation! Hail, thou price of our redemption! Hail, thou who art our support during our pilgrimage! Hail, O reward of our expectation!”

Although anchoresses by definition withdrew from the world, presumably avoiding fame and attention, at least one was well-known. Tomorrow we'll meet her.