For the nun does not disparage marriage, far from it; nor does she inculcate a doctrine of general celibacy. It is not a question with her of giving up a lesser joy for a greater, but simply of the way to remain true to the higher standard, which in accordance with the teaching of her age she identified with a life of chastity. Her position may appear untenable; confusion of thought is a reproach which a later age readily casts on an earlier. But underneath what may seem unreasonable there is the aspiration for self-control. It is this aspiration which gives a wide and an abiding interest to her plays. For she is not hampered by narrowness of thought or by pettiness of spirit. Her horizon is limited, we grant; but she fills it entirely and she fills it well.

Passing from these generalities to the plays themselves, we find ourselves in a variety of surroundings and in contact with a wide range of personalities. The transition period from heathendom to Christianity supplies in most cases the mental and moral conflicts round which centres the interest of these plays.

The plays are six in number, and the one that stands first is divided into two separate parts. Their character varies considerably. There is the heroic, the romantic, the comic and the unrelieved tragic element, and the two plays that stand last contain long disquisitions on scholastic learning. A short analysis of their contents will give the reader an idea of the manner in which Hrotsvith makes her conceptions and her purpose evident.

‘Gallicanus,’ the play that stands first[499], is in some ways the most striking of all. A complex theme is ably dealt with and the incidents follow each other rapidly; the scene lies alternately in Rome and on the battle-field. The Emperor Constantine is bent on opposing the incursions of the Scythians, and his general Gallicanus claims the hand of the emperor’s daughter Constantia as a reward for undertaking so dangerous an expedition. Constantia is a convert to Christianity, Gallicanus is a heathen. In an interview with her father the girl declares she will sooner die than be united to a heathen, but with a mixture of shrewdness and confidence in her faith she agrees to marry him on his return on condition that the Christians John and Paul shall accompany him on his expedition, and that his daughters shall meanwhile be given into her keeping. The manner in which she receives the girls is at once proud and dignified. ‘Welcome my sisters, Attica and Artemia,’ she exclaims; ‘stand, do not kneel, rather greet me with a kiss of affection.’ There is no development of character in the course of the play, for Hrotsvith is chiefly bent on depicting states of mind under given conditions. The characters in themselves are forcibly drawn: witness the emperor’s affection for his daughter, the general’s strength and determination, Constantia’s dignified bearing and the gentleness of the Christian teachers. The sequel of events bears out Constantia’s anticipations. The daughters of Gallicanus are easily swayed in favour of Christianity and their father is converted. For Gallicanus is hard pressed by the Scythians on the battle-field and despairs of success, when the Christian teachers urge him to call upon their God for help. He does so, overcomes the Scythians and takes their leader Bradan prisoner. In recognition of his victory he is rewarded by a triumphal entry into Rome. But he is now a convert to Christianity; he describes to the emperor how Christ Himself and the heavenly host fought on his side, and he approaches Constantia and his daughters and thus addresses them: ‘I greet you, holy maidens; abide in the fear of God and keep inviolate your virgin crown that the eternal King may receive you in His embrace.’ Constantia replies: ‘We serve Him the more readily if thou dost not oppose us.’ Gallicanus: ‘I would not discourage, prevent or thwart your wishes, I respect them, so far that I would not now constrain thee, beloved Constantia, whom I have secured at the risk of my life.’ But he admits that his resolve costs him much, and he decides to seek solace in solitude for his grief at having lost so great a prize.

The sequel to this play is short, and describes the martyrdom of the Christian teachers, John and Paul, who had accompanied Gallicanus on his expedition. Gallicanus is no more, the Emperor Constantius is dead, and Julian the Apostate reigns in his stead and cruelly persecutes the Christians. No woman appears in this part of the play. We first witness the martyrdom of the Christians who are put to death by Terentian, one of the emperor’s generals. Terentian’s son is then seized by a terrible illness, and his unhappy father goes to the grave of the martyrs, where he becomes a convert to Christianity and prays for their intercession with God in behalf of his son. His prayer finds fulfilment and the boy is restored to health. Hrotsvith took this story from the Acts and the Passion of the saints John and Paul, but, as Ebert has shown, the development is entirely her own[500]. Though working on the model of Terence the nun is quite indifferent to unities of time and place, and sacrifices everything to the exigencies of the plot, so that the transition from scene to scene is often sudden and abrupt.

The next play is ‘Dulcetius, or the sufferings of the maidens Agape, Chionia and Irene[501].’ It dramatises a story which was familiar in western Europe from an early date; Ealdhelm mentions it in his poem on Virginity. Its popularity is no doubt due to the juxtaposition of entirely divergent elements, the pathos of martyrdom being in close company with scenes of broad humour.

During the persecutions under Diocletian three youthful sisters are brought before the emperor, who thus addresses the eldest:

Diocletian. The noble stock from which you spring and your extreme beauty demand that you should be connected with our court through marriage with high officials. This we incline to vouchsafe you if you agree to disown Christ and offer sacrifice to our most ancient gods.

Agape. O spare yourself this trouble, do not think of giving us in marriage. Nought can compel us to disown the name of Christ, or to debase our purity of heart.

Diocletian. What is the object of this madness?