Tag: John of Grimestone

Holy Week: Sweet Son

Victoria Emily Jones1 Comment

LOOK: The Crucifixion by Andrea Mantegna

Mantegna, Andrea_Crucifixion (San Zeno Altarpiece)
Andrea Mantegna (Italian, ca. 1431–1506), The Crucifixion, 1457–59. Tempera on panel, 75 × 96 cm. Musée du Louvre, Paris. [object record]

There’s much to look at in this painting. I want to focus on Jesus’s grieving mother under the cross to our left.

Mantegna, Crucifixion detail

In Renaissance art of the Crucifixion, Mother Mary is often shown swooning, supported by John or by one of her female companions. Here she’s with a group of four women—the other Marys—two of whom wrap an arm around her to bolster her up when her legs give out. Her son has just died, and she can’t bear to look.

This work was painted by Andrea Mantegna between 1457 and 1459 as the central element of the predella (base) of the high altarpiece at San Zeno in Verona, Italy, a monumental work of art. In 1797, French Napoleonic forces plundered the altarpiece and brought it to Paris; the country returned the three main panels to Verona in 1815 when Napoleon lost power, but they kept the three predella panels, which are on display in museums: The Crucifixion at the Louvre, and The Agony in the Garden and The Resurrection at the Musée des Beaux-Arts in Tours.

LISTEN: “Swete Sone” | Words: Anon., 14th century (before 1372) | Music by Katharine Blake, 1998 | Performed by Mediæval Bæbes on Worldes Blysse, 1998

This song is in Middle English. If you’re reading along with the lyrics, you’ll want to know that the letter thorn, þ, says th; and u makes a w or v sound.

Suete sone, reu on me, & brest out of þi bondis;
For [nou] me þinket þat i se, þoru boþen þin hondes,
Nailes dreuen in-to þe tre, so reufuliche þu honges.
Nu is betre þat i fle & lete alle þese londis.

Suete sone, þi faire face droppet al on blode,
& þi bodi dounward is bounden to þe rode;
Hou may þi modris herte þolen so suete fode,
Þat blissed was of alle born & best of alle gode!

Suete sone, reu on me & bring me out of þis liue,
For me þinket þat i se þi detȝ, it neyhit suiþe;
Þi feet ben nailed to þe tre—nou may i no more þriue,
For [al] þis werld with-outen þe ne sal me maken bliþe.

Source: Edinburgh, National Library of Scotland, Adv.MS.18.7.21, fol. 120r (DIMEV 5089); as transcribed by Carleton Brown in Religious Lyrics of the XIVth Century (1924)

MODERN ENGLISH TRANSLATION:

Sweet son, have pity on me, and break out of your bonds;
For I think I see through both your hands
Nails have been driven into the tree, so painfully you hang there.
It would be better if I fled now and abandoned all these lands.

Sweet son, your beautiful face is dripping with blood,
And your body beneath is bound to the cross;
How will your mother’s heart endure [the suffering of] such a sweet child,
Who was born most blessed of all and was the most goodly of all!

Sweet son, have pity on me and deliver me from this life,
For I think I see your death approaches quickly;
Your feet have been nailed to the tree—now I may never prosper,
For without you, all this world can never make me happy.

These three monorhyming quatrains are from John of Grimestone’s commonplace book, where he jotted down material for sermons; it’s unknown whether they’re original to him or compiled from some other source. (For other lyrics I’ve featured from this notebook, see “Undo Thy Door, My Spouse Dear” and “Love Me Brought.”)

In the poem, written in Mother Mary’s voice, Mary reveals a premonition she’s had of her son being nailed on a tree to die. (At least that’s how I read it, mainly because of the “I think I sees.”) She agonizes over this nightmare and asks Jesus that if it be true, to deliver her from this life, as she won’t be able to endure the sorrow of losing him.

Verses like these really humanize Mary, a woman who, faithful as she was to God’s unfolding plan, felt the intense parental pangs that inevitably accompany witnessing one’s child being brutalized and killed.

The poem has been set to medieval-style music by Katharine Blake, the founder of Mediæval Bæbes, a classical chart–topping British music ensemble celebrating its thirtieth anniversary this year.

The song opens with an unaccompanied solo voice singing in free time. In the second half of the first stanza, additional voices enter, as well as a strummed instrument. Then with “& þi bodi dounward is bounden to þe rode,” the tempo quickens; a 2/4 meter takes shape and regularizes, with percussion keeping the beat; and the volume amplifies with twelve women now singing. With the final stanza, there’s once again a softening as the song returns to a single vocalist and the instrumentation drops out. This movement from weary pain, Mary barely able to speak it aloud, to foot-stomping anger, which her friends join in solidarity, and back to solitary desolation captures different shades of grief.

For a wholly a cappella solo rendition, see this performance by Ariana Ellis:

“Loue Me Brouthte” (Love Me Brought): Christ speaks from the cross

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Crucifixion (Taymouth Hours)
Crucifixion with bas-de-page scene of Christ leading figures from the mouth of Hell, from the Taymouth Hours, England, second quarter of 14th century. British Library, Yates Thompson 13, fol. 122v.
ORIGINAL MIDDLE ENGLISH:

Loue me brouthte,
& loue me wrouthte,
Man, to be þi fere.
Loue me fedde,
& loue me ledde,
& loue me lettet here.

Loue me slou,
& loue me drou,
& loue me leyde on bere.
Loue is my pes,
For loue i ches,
Man to byƷen dere.

Ne dred þe nouth,
I haue þe south,
Boþen day & nith,
To hauen þe,
Wel is me,
I haue þe wonnen in fith.
MODERN ENGLISH TRANSLATION:

Love me brought,
And love me wrought,
Man, to be thy fere. [companion]
Love me fed,
And love me led,
And love me fastens here.

Love me slew,
And love me drew,
And love me laid on bier.
Love’s my peace;
For love I chose
To buy back man so dear.

Now fear thee not;
I have thee sought
All the day and night.
To have thee
Is joy to me;
I won thee in the fight. 

Trans. Victoria Emily Jones

This medieval passion lyric is from the Commonplace Book of John of Grimestone, compiled in Norfolk, England, in 1372 and owned by the National Library of Scotland in Edinburgh. It was transcribed by Carleton Brown in Religious Lyrics of the Fourteenth Century (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1924), page 84.

Love Me Brought
Adv.MS.18.7.21, fol. 121r, with “Love Me Brought” poem highlighted. In this manuscript, the Franciscan friar John of Grimestone jotted down miscellaneous verses and quotes to use in his preaching.

(Related post: “Undo thy door, my spouse dear”)

In the poem, Christ addresses humankind from the cross, professing his great love for her. He was begotten in love by the Father, and it’s love that brought him to earth. Love nourished and guided him, and for love he stayed the difficult course, all the way to the end. Satan had stolen Christ’s beloved, and to win her back, Christ went into battle, to redeem her who was rightfully his. His decisive move: spreading out his arms across a wooden beam, so as to embrace the world, and submitting to being nailed there.

He died for love of his lady. Love is what drew him to and secured him to that cross, what kept him there when the physical and emotional agony begged he desist. And because of his persistence in seeking us, his courageous endurance as the enemy assailed, he attained ultimate victory. “Well is me!” (Blessed am I), he exclaims, “for you are mine and I am yours.” Let nothing stand between.

Katharine Blake, the founder and musical director of Mediæval Bæbes, wrote a setting of “Love Me Broughte,” in medieval style, for the group’s 1998 album Worldes Blysse. Sweet and vigorous, it features, besides voices, a zither, pipe, recorder, tambourine, and drums.

Did you enjoy this poem? For more like it, come on out on November 23 to “Christ Our Lover: Medieval Art and Poetry of Jesus the Bridegroom,” a lecture by Dr. Grace Hamman that I’ve organized for the Eliot Society in Annapolis. Learn some of the ways Christian preachers, poets, theologians, mystics, and artists in the late Middle Ages, both male and female, conceptualized Christ’s passionate love, drawing from the Song of Songs, courtly love poetry, and more—often in quite imaginative ways!

“Undo thy door, my spouse dear” (Middle English lyric)

Victoria Emily Jones3 Comments
Bouts, Aelbert_Man of Sorrows
Aelbert Bouts (Netherlandish, ca. 1451/54–1549), Man of Sorrows, mid-1490s. Oil on oak wood, 14 15/16 × 10 7/16 in. (37.9 × 26.5 cm). Harvard Art Museums / Fogg Museum, Cambridge, Massachusetts.
ORIGINAL MIDDLE ENGLISH:

Vndo þi dore, my spuse dere,
Allas! wy stond i loken out here?
     fre am i þi make.
Loke mi lokkes & ek myn heued
& al my bodi with blod be-weued
     For þi sake.

Allas! allas! heuel haue i sped,
For senne iesu is fro me fled,
     Mi trewe fere.
With-outen my gate he stant alone,
Sorfuliche he maket his mone
     On his manere.

Lord, for senne i sike sore,
Forʒef & i ne wil no more,
With al my mith senne i forsake,
& opne myn herte þe inne to take.
For þin herte is clouen oure loue to kecchen,
Þi loue is chosen vs alle to fecchen;
Mine herte it þerlede ʒef i wer kende,
Þi suete loue to hauen in mende.
Perce myn herte with þi louengge,
Þat in þe i haue my duellingge. 
Amen.

MODERN ENGLISH TRANSLATION:

“Undo thy door, my spouse dear,
Alas! why stand I locked out here?
     For I am thy mate.
Look, my locks and also my head
And all my body with blood bedewed,
     For thy sake.”

“Alas! alas! evil have I sped,
For sin Jesus is from me fled,
     My true companion.
Without my gate he standeth alone,
Sorrowfully he maketh his moan
     In his manner.”

Lord, for sin I sigh sore,
Forgive, and I’ll do so no more,
With all my might I forsake my sin,
And open my heart to take thee in.
For thy heart is cleft our love to catch,
Thy love has chosen us all to fetch;
My heart it pierced if I were kind,
Thy sweet love to have in mind.
Pierce my heart with thy loving,
That in thee I may have my dwelling. 
Amen.

This poem appears in the 1372 “commonplace book” of the Franciscan friar John of Grimestone, who lived in Norfolk, England. Commonplace books were notebooks used to gather quotations and literary excerpts, with entries typically organized under subject headings. Preachers often kept them for homiletic purposes, gathering potential material for sermons. Grimestone’s is remarkable because it includes, in addition to much Latin material, 239 poems in Middle English. (English friars at the time regularly used vernacular religious verse in their sermons.) It is unknown whether Grimestone composed these verses himself or merely compiled them; likely, it is some combination. The first two stanzas of this particular poem are found, transposed, in another manuscript from almost a century earlier. Grimestone revised them slightly and added the third stanza.

Belonging to the Christ-as-lover tradition, “Undo thy door” is based primarily on Song of Solomon 5:2, cited in Grimestone’s manuscript: “I sleep, but my heart waketh: it is the voice of my beloved that knocketh, saying, Open to me, my sister, my love, my dove, my undefiled: for my head is filled with dew, and my locks with the drops of the night.” In a clever interpretation of the Old Testament source, the poet imagines the dewdrops on the Beloved’s brow as blood, thus identifying him with the thorn-crowned Christ. His bride is the human soul. Revelation 3:20 is provided as a further gloss by Grimestone: Jesus says, “Behold, I stand at the door, and knock: if any man hear my voice, and open the door, I will come in to him, and will sup with him, and he with me.”

So in the poem, the speaker is keeping company with sin and has locked out her true lover, Christ. Christ stands at the gate of her heart and implores her with great ardor to let him in and to send sin packing. Wet with the wounds of sacrifice, tokens of his love, he is persistent in his longing for her.

Christ’s entreaties provide the impetus for the speaker’s repentance, expressed in the final stanza, which changes awkwardly in form and meter. His love has pierced her to the core, undoing her resistance. She resolves to break the sin-lock—to turn away from wrongful deeds—and answer Christ’s call so that they can enjoy sweet union together, dwelling in one another’s love. It was his heart that opened first—it was cleft by the centurion’s spear as he hung on the cross—and she is compelled to respond with similar openness, receiving what he has given, requiting his desire.

SOURCES:

This poem is #6108 in the Digital Index of Middle English Verse. It is preserved in Edinburgh, National Library of Scotland, Adv.MS.18.7.21, fol. 121v. A shorter, earlier version, from the late thirteenth century, appears in London, Lambeth Palace Library 557, fol. 185v.

Middle English transcription: Carleton Brown, ed., Religious Lyrics of the XIVth Century (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1924), 86

Modern English translation: David C. Fowler, The Bible in Middle English Literature (Seattle: University of Washington Press, 1984), 85–86

For further reading, see chapters 4–5 of Siegfried Wenzel, Preachers, Poets, and the Early English Lyric (Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 1986), especially pages 140–41; and chapter 7, “The Theme of Christ the Lover-Knight in Medieval English Literature,” in Rosemary Woolf, Art and Doctrine: Essays on Medieval English Literature (London: The Hambledon Press, 1986), especially pages 109–10.