Pablo Acosta-García, “En viva sangre bañadas: Caterina da Siena y las vidas de María de Ajofrín, Juana de la Cruz, María de Santo Domingo y otras santas vivas castellanas,” Archivio italiano per la storia della pietà, 33 (2020): 143–172.

A Summary in English by Camila Walls Castillo

If citing the following summary, please give this reference:

Pablo Acosta-García, “En viva sangre bañadas: Caterina da Siena y las vidas de María María de Ajofrín, Juana de la Cruz, María de Santo Domingo y otras santas vivas castellanas” Archivio italiano per la storia della pietà, XXXIII (2020) 143-72. English Summary by Camila Walls Castillo. https://othersisters.hypotheses.org/239

In this study, Pablo Acosta-García investigates representations of female holiness on the Iberian Peninsula during the late fifteenth and sixteenth centuries. By engaging in a detailed comparative analysis of hagiographic texts, the author’s principal objective is to analyse the extent to which late-medieval Italian models of sanctity influenced the phenomenology and narration present in early modern Hispanic mysticism. As his principal point of comparison, Acosta-García looks to the work of Raymond of Capua, confessor and biographer of Catherine of Siena, and contextualizes his Legenda major as a fundamental hagiographic text, whose structure, narrative patterns, and mystic phenomenology served as a model for the written histories of later women-religious in Castile. The author takes into account a multitude of specific narrative elements, but places a particular focus on two stages in the holy woman’s lifecycle: childhood and maturity — emphasizing during this latter category the penitential traits of a saint’s life, specifically looking for codified hagiographic themes through their expressions of stigmata, and their discussion of the  process of stigmatization. The author then discusses the reliability of hagiographic influence through oral tradition, and further supports the dissemination of earlier traditions by assessing the connections these women had with their contemporary Italian counterparts. Ultimately, through a detailed review of temporal setting, physical phenomenon, and narrative arrangement, he successfully establishes the appropriation of a late medieval tradition in early modern Castilian hagiographic literature, and makes further evident the ways in which this model had evolved, diversified, and been reformed by Hispanic mysticism. 

Puella senex: Models of Saintly Childhood

Acosta-García begins by contextualizing Italian models of female sanctity through the example of beloved fourteenth-century mystic, Catherine of Siena (pg. 146). He proposes that the narrative framework of her vita, which hinges upon the division between stages of her life, provides a structural basis for later hagiographic work, the influence of which is best understood through Castilian portrayals of santa niñez (sacred childhood) and madurez (maturity) (pg. 148-149).

The narrative elements in Raymond’s telling follow a distinct pattern within each cycle.

In childhood, a holy woman is first introduced by her status, then by emphasizing the moral character of her parents, and finally, by highlighting the abundance of her family’s temporal goods (pg. 150). In this way, the author suggests that the holy child is cast in one of two roles, each representing distinct models of sacred childhood distinguished by the period in which the vitae were written: the noble child who is understood as having inherited her sanctity from birth, which is typical in narratives from the seventeenth century onward; or the secular child or puella senex (the old girl), who becomes sacred through the renunciation of worldly life at a young age, typical from earlier models of sanctity (beginning in the sixteenth century). Of these two categories, María García de Toledo (1340-1426), Beatriz da Silva (1424/1437-1492), and María de Toledo (1437-1507) represent the noble women-religious. Acosta-García remarks that the hagiographer’s insertion of noble holy women within larger late histories of the mendicant orders, suggests a “distinct aristocratic genealogy, which highlights their roots,” and echoes late medieval conceptions about the sanctity of their lineage (pg. 151). 

            The latter category therefore represents secular holy women, the group to which Catherine of Siena belongs, who is described as being “from a humble generation, but abounded in temporal goods.” (pg. 150).  This narrative element is later adopted in the lives of Hispanic secular mystics, such as María de Ajofrín (1455-1489) with respect to her parents, who “feared the Lord greatly, always walking in his commandments, and had an abundance of temporal goods,” (pg. 153) and is subsequently echoed in the description of Juana de la Cruz (1481-1534), who was said to be “… of good and Christian parents, virtuous and clean in customs, and people of an average way” (pg. 153).

Acosta-García uses the analogy of the puella senex to describe these women, who faced with an inability to claim inherited sanctity as a natural justification for their path towards holiness, must instead come to it episodically, through a development of virtues that indicated the maturity of their faith exceeded the capacities of their age. The author argues that the path of the puella senex can be understood through four distinct phases: the confirmation of one’s holy vocation through a vision; the appropriation of penitential traits in imitation of the desert fathers; the vow of virginity; and the development of virtuous habits (temperance in dressing, abstinence in eating and drinking, and sobriety in her sleeping habits) (pg. 154).

In the life of Catherine, this development of virtue is largely related to her struggle to maintain her status as a virgin. Her Legenda states that upon realizing the expectation for her to marry, Catherine cut off her hair in an act of rebellion. This narrative element is reiterated in the life of María de Ajofrín, who faced with familial pressures to marry was said to have “valiantly resisted both the world and her relatives,” (pg. 155) as well as in the life of María de Toledo, who “did not delight in boasts, nor consent to dirty her ears with them… attributing everything she had to God” (pg. 156). Acosta-García pointedly remarks that these worldly marital renunciations underscore two important features of the sacred soul, the physical (beauty) and the moral (virtue), suggesting that “these two themes are linked, since physical attractiveness, on the one hand, platonically reflects the cleanliness of the soul, and on the other, reinforces at the narrative level the denial of worldly life in favour of adopting a life related to penitential ideals” (pg. 154).

Regardless of their status at birth, Acosta-García concludes that the path towards holiness in childhood culminated in divine betrothal. This mystical union signified a solidification of the holy woman’s vows, representing a crucial turning point in the life of a saint. Raymond of Capua establishes this in his Legenda major by detailing a visionary exchange of a diamond ring between Christ and Catherine (pg. 158). We can see this exchange echoed in the life of Juana de la Cruz, where the Virgin Mary serves as espousal intermediary: “Our Lady the Virgin Mary took a ring from her precious finger and gave it to the sacred son so that he could give it, from his hand, to his wife. And so it was done, that the Child Jesus himself gave it to her, and put it in her hand” (p. 158).  The visionary’s betrothal as narrative element thus marks the young woman’s transition from holy child, to Bride of Christ — a pattern that is clearly reflected in hagiographies of the Iberian Peninsula during the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries.  

The Mature Holy Woman: Penitence, Ecstasy, Stigmata

Acosta-García suggests that at a basic level, two distinct features of later medieval piety are clearly reflected in the biographies of Castilian holy women as they narrate their adulthood: the intermediary nature of sacred images, and a clear Christocentric devotion, with a strong eucharistic focus (pg. 158). The Legenda major by Raymond presents these elements several times throughout Catherine’s short life (her vocation for a life of faith as a result of her vision of Christ; her stigmata occurring while before a crucifix; the miracle of the Host flying towards her mouth), and it is subsequently evident in the lives of Juana de la Cruz, María de Santo Domingo,  María de Ajofrín (pg. 159).

Yet, in order to truly assess the dissemination of an earlier hagiographic tradition in early modern Spain, the author looks to the more penitential aspects of these women’s lives, particularly their experiences of stigmata. He begins this portion of the analysis by underscoring a distinction made by Jacques Dalarun, between the stigmatization (the “cause” or process by which marks are received) and the stigmata (the “effect,” or wounds, free from casual narrative). Acosta-García reminds us that only in the lives of María de Ajofrín and Juana de la Cruz are we presented with an account of the stigmatization process. In these examples, we see a stark resemblance to the Catherinian model, which can once again be understood through the replication of distinct narrative themes: first, the stigmata occur during a highlighted sacred period of time on the liturgical calendar (Holy Thursday/Good Friday); second, it makes the location of the wounds explicit (side of body, under ribs, hands and feet); third, it speaks of witnesses which can attest to the stigmata’s authenticity, in some cases through notarized documents (pg. 161).

However, Acosta-García notes that the Hispanic tradition departs from the Catherinian model in the raw and graphic physical representation of these women’s blessed wounds. The stigmatization process (at least in the earliest, original account which was most disseminated in Castile at the time of these Castilian “sante vive”), for example, clearly emphasizes the imperceptibility of Catherine’s wounds. Catherine is said to have experienced the pains of the passion while standing before the crucifix, in areas highlighted by rays of light which radiated off the holy symbol (pg. 161). In contrast to this invisible portrayal, in the life of María de Ajofrín we see that “there appeared such a deep gash, that it seemed to have been cut open with a razor… which remained open for twenty full days, her blood flowing more on Friday’s than on any other day.” The integration of carnal suffering with the repeated holy significance of Friday, is also echoed in the life of Juana de la Cruz, where it is said “[s]he possessed the glorious marks and increasing pains from the morning of Good Friday to the Day of Ascension” (pg. 166). The author notes that these narrative patterns, while ostensibly maintaining a Catherinian framework, more closely resemble narrative patterns seen in the lives of their contemporary Italian tertiaries, such as Lucia Brocadelli da Narni (1476-1544), who also bled on Fridays (pg. 166). Moreover, with respect to witness testimony, in the life of Lucia we see a rigorous notarial procedure that is echoed in the life of María de Santo Domingo. María who hosted judges which, in the process of their verification, confirmed precisely the location, shape, and blood flow of the wound, in order to “inspire faith of its factuality” (pg. 164). Much like the parallels which can be drawn between Lucia and María, so too can they be drawn between another Italian contemporary, Domenica Narducci da Paradiso (1473-1553), whose influence is perhaps present in the life of Juana de la Cruz with respect to her experience of ecstasy, prior to stigmatization. It is said of both these women, that their confessors found them strewn on the floor in the form of a cross, representing their visions of the crucifixion amidst their rapture, a narrative element which also serves to “surpass” the Catherinian model by placing a heightened emphasis on the physicality of stigmatization (pg. 170).

Ultimately, Acosta-García establishes that Catherinian models of holiness, integrated into larger models of late medieval Italian feminine piety, may have become known to these Hispanic mystics through an oral tradition that was facilitated by their connections to contemporary Italian holy women and their confessors.

Conclusion

As he concludes his argument, Acosta-García proposes that we bear in mind how these texts deliberately prevent us from knowing “where the narration of biographical facts end, and where the codification of hagiographic tradition begins” (p. 171).  Furthermore, he leaves us to ponder: are these coincidences indicative of an explicit imitation by these women of a known model? Or, is it instead the specific interests of the author, often a confessor or historian of mendicant orders, which informs the creation of these histories? His analysis nevertheless confirms, through the narrative structures of santa niñez and madurez, that these histories represent a knowledge of earlier Italian models of holiness —not simply of the fourteenth-century Catherinian model, but also of models created by holy women living contemporaneously with them in the fifteenth century; “that group of women which Bartolomei Romagnoli would call the ‘spirituale milizia femminile’” (pg. 171). This knowledge is particularly evident in the descriptions of Castilian stigmatics, who elevate their status beyond the Catherinian model through the graphic nature of their stigmatizations, such that they do not simply communicate a likeness to Christ, but instead, a total assimilation with Christ in his passion. In addition to pointing out these transgressive appropriations, he asserts the importance of looking to the models laid down by contemporary Italian women for future hagiographic comparison, such as Lucia Broccadelli da Narni and Domenica Narducci da Paradiso, who facilitated in “the negotiation of new forms and significances of the stigmata” among the female-religious of the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries (p. 172).

by Angela Carbone 

The doctoral program in Sciences of Human Relations (University of Bari Aldo Moro, Department of Education, Psychology and Communication Sciences), where I have worked for many years, is divided into three branches: History and Social Policy, Formative Dynamics and Political Education, and Psychology: Cognitive, Emotional and Communicative Processes. I have supervised many doctoral students in the History program including, most recently, Domenico Uccellini. In his recent article, he has brought new elements to the research on communities of non-cloistered religious women in the Terra di Bari (countryside around the city of Bari) between the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries (D. Uccellini, Benefattrici e beneficate. Conservatori femminili in Terra di Bari nella prima età moderna, in E. Ivetic, a cura di, Attraverso la storia. Nuove ricerche sull’età moderna in Italia, Editoriale Scientifica, Napoli 2020, pp. 197-208).

From the historiographical background in which many research trends in the Church’s history and the history of local powers intersect, the originality of the Uccellini’s contribution lies in the fact that he looks both at the female role in charity and at the charitable practices: women acting as benefactors and women as beneficiaries.

As evidenced by exemplary female promoters of praiseworthy charitable initiatives in Naples between the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries, such as Maria Lorenza Longo, founder of the Ospedale degli Incurabili (1521), Maria d’Ayerbe, founder of the Monastery of the convertite (1537), Elena Aldobrandini, founder of the Ritiro per matrone e vergini nobili (1655), there was significant female activity in the foundation of conservatories dedicated to the assistance of women “on the margins”.

In particular, there were noteworthy initiatives undertaken by noble women belonging to the Acquaviva family, one of the seven great noble families of the Kingdom of Naples to which King Ferdinand I of Aragon granted, in the second half of the fifteenth century, the right to add the name “d’Aragona” to their surname. The Conservatorio di Santa Maria delle Abbandonate was founded in 1573 in Casamassima (Bari) in fulfillment of a testamentary bequest of Dorotea Acquaviva d’Aragona, daughter of Giovanni Antonio Donato and Isabella Spinelli, with the aim of welcoming orphan and poor girls. About twenty years later, Archbishop Riccardi mentioned the hospitium in his Report ad limina of 1594, stating that there were young girls who had not made solemn profession of monastic vows but lived religiously, and that the structure was guarded and administered very properly.

The conservatory’s book of Rules, the Regule, statuti et consuetudini d’osservarsi inviolabilmente con la Divina grazia dalle M.R. figliole di Santa Maria dell’Abandonate – on which we are still working – precisely describe the everyday life of the girls and establish a whole series of behavioral norms.

In 1660, the archbishop of Bari, Diego Sersale, transformed the conservatory into a monastery of Poor Clares. Around the middle of the nineteenth century, there were still “thirty choir nuns, and ten converse nuns, who lived in a perfect common life under the rule of St. Clare as reformed by Pope Urban.”

Another important female figure linked to the Acquaviva family was Isabella Filomarino dei Principi della Rocca, wife of the Count of Conversano Gian Girolamo II Acquaviva d’Aragona (“the one-eyed men of the Apuglia (guercio delle Puglie)”) and niece of the archbishop of Naples Ascanio Filomarino.

Isabella was a cultured, devout and imperious woman (not by chance called the “asp of Apulia”); she supported with conviction the political project of her family, which aimed at using patronage and charity as effective instruments of power. In the 1640s, she established the Conservatorio di S. Leonardo in Conversano (Bari). The institute welcomed “mujeres in honestas” who wore the habit of the Dominican Third Order and who did not profess solemn vows: they led an intense “religious life”, but were free “to leave and choose another state”. 

A new female congregation was founded, again in Conversano, at the beginning of the seventeenth century, by Caterina Acquaviva d’Aragona, mother of Gian Girolamo II and mother-in-law of Isabella Filomarino. The conservatory, called “Casa Santa” (Holy House), welcomed – in addition to a pre-existing community of Discalced Capuchin nuns called “cappuccinelle” – “some spinsters, daughters of dishonest mothers” so that they might be prevented from “following the life of their mothers with the danger of losing their honor and becoming victims of the devil.” 

When Caterina Acquaviva of Aragon died, in the early 1630s, Gian Girolamo II and Isabella Filomarino put an end to this experiment by founding, in the place of the Casa Santa and of the contiguous church of S. Matteo, a convent dedicated to the saints Cosma and Damiano, which housed Franciscan tertiary sisters.  

These are only some examples of the ongoing research made possible by the study of the rich archival documentation. It is interesting to highlight the leading role assumed by some women of one of the most important families of the Kingdom of Naples, the Acquaviva of Aragon, together with the role played by the Church. These women were, on one hand, moved by an deep religious convictions. They sought spiritual purification and renewal, often following family bereavements and, in particular, the entrance into the state of widowhood. On the other hand, these charitable institutions became an expression of the Acquaviva family’s strategies for the control of the territory, the display of family prestige, and the management of their patrimony.