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kingofspain93's review against another edition
I’m marking this as a DNF because I only read it for Dulcitius (and only because it’s referenced in Rubyfruit Jungle) and I can guarantee that I will never pick up Hrotsvit’s works again. my interest in medieval women authors can’t extend to narratives about good christians, they creep me out too much. I know that many authors wrote within christianity to avoid censorship and condemnation and that this must be doubly true for women but the insipid stupidity is foregrounded in Dulcitius and I found it inescapable. if you are into this sort of thing, I read the Christopher St. John and Katharina Wilson translations back to back and the Wilson one is superior, even though she translates into rhyme. her version is more rhythmic and less patronizing than St. John, who (for example) wrote out Hrotsvit’s name as Roswitha because it was “more pleasing to the eye.”
there is some comedy here, like this exchange between Sissinus and Hirena:
Hirena: Wretched Sissinus, blush for shame, and proclaim your miserable defeat because without the help of weapons, you cannot overcome a tender little virgin as your foe.
Sissinus: Whatever the shame that may be mine, I will bear it more easily now because I know for certain that you will die. (Wilson)
I think that if I could muscle my way through what is, in reality, a very short corpus, and maybe if I had some more context and patience, I could make something of the sarcasm and bafflement of the other characters in the face of the heroines’ limpid insistence on being tortured to death for no apparent reason. but I’m not the one to do it! there is also this line, which is delivered by the one female character who isn’t a christian, which is perhaps suggestive of a deeper perspective on reality than the masculine outrage and feminine passivity on display throughout:
Wife: Alas, alas, my Lord Dulcitius, what has happened to you? You are not sane; the Christians have made a laughingstock out of you.
Dulcitius: Now I know at last. I owe this mockery to their witchcraft.
Wife: What upsets me so, what makes me more sad, is that you were ignorant of all that happened to you. (Wilson)
Wilson cites at least two sources for any readers who are interested in reading essays about the significance of pots and pans in Dulcitius, which I have to stress is about ten pages long and contains pots and pans for one scene. Medieval scholars are fuck-freaks and I appreciate the vibe, even if I’m too easily exasperated by the content. if they ever have a party I want to be invited but I’ll be like the geeky guy in a comedy who thinks his invite got lost in the mail or something.
Edit: Okay, I just read Hrotsvit's prefaces to her collected plays, and I admit that I am very stupid and there is more going on with her than I gave her credit for. Her careful approach to incorporating pagan works into her theatrical treatment of gender, and her wily justification using christianized logic, suggests that she is as duplicitous as, say, Paracelcus. Still a DNF but it's on me.
lzvknj's review against another edition
2.0
aunque no soy una persona religiosa y no concuerdo con la imagen de castidad y pureza con la que hroswitha habla de las mujeres e intenta convertir a quienes la leen al cristianismo, fue la primera dramaturga que dio una verdadera voz a las mujeres en el teatro, usándolas como protagonistas y siendo ellas los seres de superioridad moral, así que: grande hroswitha! “calímaco” me sacó un par de risas, de ahí en fuera no sé si fui particularmente fan de sus obras, pero de igual forma creo que es importante conocerla.
oblomov's review against another edition
4.0
You wouldn't think 10thC plays that essentially boil down to 'Jesus good, sex bad' would be hilarious, but Roswitha manages it and I'm still unsure if that was her intention (Roswitha is an acceptable version of the author's name and doesn't give me an aneurysm when I try to spell it).
Most of the humour comes from the odd delivery, sudden tonal shifts and the borderline sociopathic reaction of the characters, my favourite ridiculous example of all three being:
Aside from making me laugh my arse off (or uncomfortably grimace), Roswitha does have some genuinely interesting ideas and words on religion and there is an early feminist tilt to her plays, with women usually being the bastion of grace or piety long before the men convert (and even if they aren't, they always are by the end). Most of the plays are uplifting in their message and the moral is usually that anyone can be forgiven, no matter how badly they think they've sinned, which is easier to stomach than the 'cast you into hellfire!' route Roswitha could have taken.
The plays:
Dilcitius 3/5
A bumbling Roman desperately wants to bang three Christian women, threatening torture and death. All three spurn his advances to keep their chastity, and are (sort of) saved by divine intervention. Includes the above mentioned quote, along with another moment where I was 100% sure Roswitha intentionally wrote a comedy scene, and it's not only the least funny and most nonsensical moment in any of her plays, but also the most racist.
Gallicanus 4/5
Based on St Gallicanus, a Roman general who converted to Christianity. Roswitha has him wanting to a marry the Christian daughter of Constantine. Since a simple no would apparently be impolite, the daughter half agrees and gets Gallicanus to take two of her Christian mentors to war with him, and he converts when they convince him to pray to God and win a losing battle. Everyone agrees to give up nasty, squelchy sexual congress for the Lord (a theme which reoccurs throughout the rest of the plays) and then everything goes wrong when the new heathen Emporer takes the throne.
There's also a brief mention of a mystical character on the battlefield, of immense stature with a sword in one hand and a cross over his shoulder, and all I could think of was Camouflage Jesus and so proceeded to giggle myself silly again.
Callimachus 5/5
My absolute favourite, this is so wonderfully dumb. Man wants to bang woman, she wants to be chaste, next verse same as the first, but this play's got monsters, angels, attempted necrophilia and characters literally dropping dead so they don't have to deal with other people, all in one zany procession of utter nonsense. I'd love to quote my favourite bits and talk at length about how fantastically stupid this play is, but since it's so short and in the public domain, I'll just add the online version here so you can enjoy it yourself without my spoilers, and if you only read one of Roswitha's plays, make it this glorious mess.
Abraham 2/5
Least funny and frankly just creepy.
Grandfather has a discussion with his grandaughter about how good it is to remain a virgin so she can marry Jesus when she dies. She's eight years old. Eh....
Girl joins a convent, but some years later she's "seduced" by a shithead pretending to be a monk, and she runs away in shame. She's twelve at this point. Ehhhh...
Grandfather hears she's become a highly sort after prostitute, so seeks her out 'pretending to be a lover' so he can get close to her, bring her home and have her repent her lustfulness. She's fourteen at this point. EHHHHH...!
As "nice" as Roswitha's argument is, that the grandaughter shouldn't be kicked out the door like she's somehow soiled and it's Grandad's duty to help and love her, everything about this play just made me feel nauseous.
Paphnutius 2/5
Also not that funny.
Paphnutius hears of Thais, a beautiful and highly successful prostitute, and decides he must save her soul. Talks a lot about Thais' lustful admirers, who regularly beat the crap out of each other to get near her, and there's some very Freudian phrasing from Paphnutius, who's supposed to be above the whole sex thing:
The play trundles along at a decent and steady speed for awhile, but rams into a litter of puppies at the end with a moment of unexpected horror:
She's given a cell, which she can't leave and it has only one small window, through which she's given bread and water. Far less ok, but she chooses it freely, I guess?
Thais says this:
Sapientia 3/5
Antiochus is angered by the Christian Sapientia and her three daughters, so has them all brought before him and given an ultimatium: worship the Roman Gods or suffer.
The masochistic gore story. Whipping, boiling in oil and ripping off nipples, all of which doesn't hurt, doesn't work or kills the torturers and all thanks to Jesus, the max level white mage.
There's also a protracted maths lesson, which is so out of place and dull that even the translator apologised for it, and said Roswitha probably included it as a middle finger to her male contemporaries as a 'see, women understand complex learning just fine, now figure out this mathematical riddle, arseholes' sort of thing.
As much as this play is about disproving Antiochus' stated belief that women are weak and easily swayed, with daughters and mother sassing the shit out of him, one bit that really stood out for me was this less than flattering line about Christianity:
The plays swing between the uncomfortable and the laugh riot. I had to keep reading because I genuinely had no idea where Roswitha would be going with the next scene (other than Jesus coming out on top), whether someone would be tortured, hump kitchenware or die from shock while being able to loudly announce they are dying from shock.
With Roswitha inspired by the Roman playwrites, notably the notable knobend [a: Terence|3009651|Terence|https://images.gr-assets.com/authors/1363355408p2/3009651.jpg], I like to think there's self awareness in her works and she's going overboard to keep our attention, which certainly worked for me. Despite some discomforting moments, the plays are mostly entertaining, imaginative and considerably more engaging than some of the morality plays written half a millenium later.
Most of the humour comes from the odd delivery, sudden tonal shifts and the borderline sociopathic reaction of the characters, my favourite ridiculous example of all three being:
Dulcitius: I'm in love! Do you think they will fall in love with me?
Soldiers: From what we know, you will have little success.
Dulcitius: Why?
Soldiers: Their faith is too strong.
Dulcitius: A few sweet words will work wonders!
Soldiers: They despise flattery.
Dulcitius: Then I shall woo in another fashion -- with torture!
Aside from making me laugh my arse off (or uncomfortably grimace), Roswitha does have some genuinely interesting ideas and words on religion and there is an early feminist tilt to her plays, with women usually being the bastion of grace or piety long before the men convert (and even if they aren't, they always are by the end). Most of the plays are uplifting in their message and the moral is usually that anyone can be forgiven, no matter how badly they think they've sinned, which is easier to stomach than the 'cast you into hellfire!' route Roswitha could have taken.
The plays:
Dilcitius 3/5
A bumbling Roman desperately wants to bang three Christian women, threatening torture and death. All three spurn his advances to keep their chastity, and are (sort of) saved by divine intervention. Includes the above mentioned quote, along with another moment where I was 100% sure Roswitha intentionally wrote a comedy scene, and it's not only the least funny and most nonsensical moment in any of her plays, but also the most racist.
Gallicanus 4/5
Based on St Gallicanus, a Roman general who converted to Christianity. Roswitha has him wanting to a marry the Christian daughter of Constantine. Since a simple no would apparently be impolite, the daughter half agrees and gets Gallicanus to take two of her Christian mentors to war with him, and he converts when they convince him to pray to God and win a losing battle. Everyone agrees to give up nasty, squelchy sexual congress for the Lord (a theme which reoccurs throughout the rest of the plays) and then everything goes wrong when the new heathen Emporer takes the throne.
There's also a brief mention of a mystical character on the battlefield, of immense stature with a sword in one hand and a cross over his shoulder, and all I could think of was Camouflage Jesus and so proceeded to giggle myself silly again.
Callimachus 5/5
My absolute favourite, this is so wonderfully dumb. Man wants to bang woman, she wants to be chaste, next verse same as the first, but this play's got monsters, angels, attempted necrophilia and characters literally dropping dead so they don't have to deal with other people, all in one zany procession of utter nonsense. I'd love to quote my favourite bits and talk at length about how fantastically stupid this play is, but since it's so short and in the public domain, I'll just add the online version here so you can enjoy it yourself without my spoilers, and if you only read one of Roswitha's plays, make it this glorious mess.
Abraham 2/5
Least funny and frankly just creepy.
Grandfather has a discussion with his grandaughter about how good it is to remain a virgin so she can marry Jesus when she dies. She's eight years old. Eh....
Girl joins a convent, but some years later she's "seduced" by a shithead pretending to be a monk, and she runs away in shame. She's twelve at this point. Ehhhh...
Grandfather hears she's become a highly sort after prostitute, so seeks her out 'pretending to be a lover' so he can get close to her, bring her home and have her repent her lustfulness. She's fourteen at this point. EHHHHH...!
As "nice" as Roswitha's argument is, that the grandaughter shouldn't be kicked out the door like she's somehow soiled and it's Grandad's duty to help and love her, everything about this play just made me feel nauseous.
Paphnutius 2/5
Also not that funny.
Paphnutius hears of Thais, a beautiful and highly successful prostitute, and decides he must save her soul. Talks a lot about Thais' lustful admirers, who regularly beat the crap out of each other to get near her, and there's some very Freudian phrasing from Paphnutius, who's supposed to be above the whole sex thing:
'I would that you could be shaken with fear to your very bowels! I would like to see your delicate body impregnated with terror in every vein, and every fibre, if that would keep you from yielding to the dangerous delights of the flesh'.
The play trundles along at a decent and steady speed for awhile, but rams into a litter of puppies at the end with a moment of unexpected horror:
Spoiler
To save her soul, Thais enters a convent to pray and repent. Ok, fair enough, if that's what she wants.She's given a cell, which she can't leave and it has only one small window, through which she's given bread and water. Far less ok, but she chooses it freely, I guess?
Thais says this:
Good father, what could be more repugnant than to have to attend to all the needs of the body in this one little room. . . . It will soon be uninhabitableTurns out, for her repentence, she will literally be living in her own piss and dung inside this one room. She unsurprisingly dies later, but her soul is saved. What the Jesus loving Hell, Roswitha?
Sapientia 3/5
Antiochus is angered by the Christian Sapientia and her three daughters, so has them all brought before him and given an ultimatium: worship the Roman Gods or suffer.
The masochistic gore story. Whipping, boiling in oil and ripping off nipples, all of which doesn't hurt, doesn't work or kills the torturers and all thanks to Jesus, the max level white mage.
There's also a protracted maths lesson, which is so out of place and dull that even the translator apologised for it, and said Roswitha probably included it as a middle finger to her male contemporaries as a 'see, women understand complex learning just fine, now figure out this mathematical riddle, arseholes' sort of thing.
As much as this play is about disproving Antiochus' stated belief that women are weak and easily swayed, with daughters and mother sassing the shit out of him, one bit that really stood out for me was this less than flattering line about Christianity:
Sapientia: The word of Christ forbids us to take thought as to what we ought to say. His wisdom is sufficient for us.Well, you said it, not me.
The plays swing between the uncomfortable and the laugh riot. I had to keep reading because I genuinely had no idea where Roswitha would be going with the next scene (other than Jesus coming out on top), whether someone would be tortured, hump kitchenware or die from shock while being able to loudly announce they are dying from shock.
With Roswitha inspired by the Roman playwrites, notably the notable knobend [a: Terence|3009651|Terence|https://images.gr-assets.com/authors/1363355408p2/3009651.jpg], I like to think there's self awareness in her works and she's going overboard to keep our attention, which certainly worked for me. Despite some discomforting moments, the plays are mostly entertaining, imaginative and considerably more engaging than some of the morality plays written half a millenium later.
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