In the Middle Ages, the legend of Saint Ursula and her extraordinarily courageous retinue of eleven thousand virgins was, for many writers and artists, a wellspring of inspiration.
This article uses Hildegard as a case study to shift our focus from a polarised debate about the merits or otherwise of retrospective diagnosis, to examine instead what happens when diagnoses take on lives of their own.
Medieval men also worried about losing their hair. They could turn to Hildegard of Bingen to provide them with a cure for baldness.
Susan Signe Morrison’s book, “A Medieval Woman’s Companion” brings the contributions of medieval women, famous and obscure, to the forefront in this fantastic introductory text.
Even though medieval women mystics have enjoyed increased attention in recent scholarly discussion, a topic that still has not been tackled is the possible difference between seeing a vision and hearing a voice during a mystical experience and the ramifications of this difference in the context of medieval text production and in the status of mystics as authors.
There is a 1 in 10,000,000 chance that Hildegard von Bingen was just making up her list of medical cures based on herbs and plants.
This study investigates just a small aspect of the subject, namely Hildegard’s use of gendered rhetoric in her portrayal of the personified church.
The work reported on in this talk is a collaborative effort involving forces performative, scholarly, and technological. Because of the way Hildegard describes her understanding of the cosmos in the treatise Scivias, the model unfolds in two acts.
A documentary based on the article ‘Collaborative Authorship in the Twelfth Century. A Stylometric Study of Hildegard of Bingen and Guibert of Gembloux’
This article compares the twelfth-century writings of the secular mulier in the Lost Love Letters with the work of religious female ‘mystics’ to draw comparisons about the way these authors chose to express love.
Hildegard of Bingen stands out as a visionary and strong intellectual power of the Middle Ages. She was a writer letters to people of all rank and standing and of books on subjects ranging from theology to medicine, natural history, poetry and cosmology. She was also a composer, both of words and music. What really makes Hildegard extraordinary is she did this at a time when women rarely did these things.
This essay focuses on the graphic and violent language of Hildegard’s visions. I argue that Hildegard drew upon the political and ecclesiastical context in which she lived for her visionary experiences, rather than a fully developed form of salvation history.
Even though medieval women mystics have enjoyed increased attention in recent scholarly discussion, a topic that still has not been tackled is the possible difference between seeing a vision and hearing a voice during a mystical experience
I do not wish to enlist, on either side, in the battle between historians and novelists. What I would like is to suggest a foray which may at first glance seem a minor skirmish, but which may significantly affect the way in which a writer portrays people who once lived, particularly famous people.
The image thatis the subjectof this essay is one of thirty-five miniatures that once illuminated the lost Rupertsberg manuscript (Wiesbaden, Hessisches Landesbibl., MS 1, ca. 1165-75), a deluxe copy of Scivias.
Hildegard argues in the beginning of Physica that humans become what they eat.
The architectural metaphor used throughout Hildegard’s Symphonia is not an isolated or independent occurrence; rather it is deeply rooted in her theology.
Born in 1098, Hildegard was the tenth child to Hildebert von Bermersheim and his wife Mechtild. They were a very well‐to‐do family of the free nobility from the Bermersheim region of Germany. When she was eight years old, Hildegard’s parents dedicated her to the church as a tithe. Hildegard was placed in a Benedictine monastery in an enclosed room with an anchoress and tutor named Jutta von Sponheim.
In 2012 Pope Benedict XVI made it official: An 11th century Benedictine nun named Hildegard Von Bingen—mystic, writer, musician, philosopher and naturalist—was proclaimed a saint.
Why and how do ancient and medieval Christians look so different to the sky, future and world as the pagans did?
While the Medieval ascription to madness is known, in the light of recent psychological and medical insights, I will explore alternative explanations for the extreme behaviour of devout women in the Middle Ages.
Hildegard was peripherally involved in contemporary politics, and she was in contact with some of the most esteemed theologians of her day, including Bernard of Clairvaux and Pope Eugenius III, who, according to her vita, ‘commanded’ her to continue writing Scivias. Hildegard also communicated with the Emperor Frederick Barbarossa and Queen Eleanor of Aquitaine.
Scholars have noted that similar notions of Divine Love have existed among the mystical traditions within Christianity, Islam and Hinduism.
Hildegard of Bingen (1098–1179) and Her Music Drama Ordo virtutum: A critical review of the scholarship and some new suggestions By Eckehard Simon…