A Meal of Toads and Other Gruesome Punishments

Some chilling warnings to the faithful from Caesarius of Heisterbach's hagiographical compendium, including a whispering ghost girl, hellbound jousters, and other tormented souls

A meal of toads. From Fra Angelico’s Last Judgement

Caesarius of Heisterbach (d. 1240) was one of the most popular hagiographers of the Middle Ages. The prior of the Cistercian Heisterbach Abbey, he’s most famous for his Dialogue on Miracles, which was rivaled only by the Golden Legend in popularity. Over the course of a dozen thematic books, Caesarius tells hundreds of miracle stories categorized by themes like Contrition, Confession, Demons, and so on, but the final chapter is what concerns us today: “Of the Punishment and the Glory of the Dead.”

Some glory. Mostly punishment.

These stories are shaped as exemplum: short anecdotes with a pithy moral to them. The telling varies, with most offering simple pious lessons. For instance:

After a deacon had read the gospel for confessors, that is, “Watch, for ye know not at what hour your Lord will come,” in Aulne, a house of our Order, as he finished those words, a monk in the choir fell down and expired. And all were afraid considering the effect of the Lord’s words. There-fore, brothers, because we know not at what hour our Lord will come, let us watch faithfully, let us watch while working that when he comes and shall afflict us with death, we may at once open to Him. May our Lord Jesus Christ deign to grant us that, who will come to judge the living and the dead and the world by fire. Amen.

Useful information! As a Deacon I’ll keep in mind to be prepared should I drop dead after proclaiming the word.

Some, however, are remarkably vivid. To wit:

In the city of Metz, as I have been told by an abbot of our order, a certain usurer died who was exceedingly avaricious. Being at the point of death he begged his wife to put a purse filled with pence in his tomb. She did this as quietly as she could, but was unable to keep it quite secret, and some people went to the grave and stealthily opened it. And behold they saw there, two toads, one in the neck of the purse and the other on the man’s breast. One with its mouth was extracting coins from the purse, the other taking those that had been extracted and putting them into his heart. It was as if they said: “We will satisfy that insatiable heart with money.” Seeing this the people threw back the earth and fled in fright. What do you suppose this man’s soul suffers in hell from the undying worm, if such terrible things were manifested in his body in the grave?

Now we’re cooking with fire. Grave toads stuffing coins into the heart of a usurer’s corpse is the kind of thing you talk about on the way to brunch after mass in the 1250s AD.

Armless toad and dancing rat, detail from Bosch

Usurer’s certainly have a toad problem. Elsewhere:

A certain knight at his death bequeathed his property acquired by usury to his son. One night he knocked loudly at the door and when a page ran and asked why he knocked, he replied: “Let me in; I am the lord of this land,” and gave his name. The boy looked out through the grille and recognizing him, said: “My master is certainly dead; I will not let you in.” And when the dead man went on knocking without any effect, at last he said: “Take these fish on which I live, to my son; look you, I am hanging them on the door.” In the morning, when they went out, they found in a sort of bundle a quantity of toads and snakes. In fact that is the food in hell and it is cooked in the sulfurous flames.

Novice. What do you think of those who live ill but give much alms?

Monk. It is of no advantage to them for eternal life.

At least that explains the toads: they are the food in hell. Toads, particularly in medieval England, were poisonous and believed to be signs of witchcraft. There is actually quite a lot of toad lore, from carrying a toad tongue to make a man irresistible, to finding good fortune if one crosses your path.

Since I’m digressing, here’s a bit of folklore: bury the breastbone of a toad in an anthill, and after it has been duly flensed, throw it in a running stream. The water will break around it, and then no matter how many times you throw it away, that bone will reappear in your pocket, giving you power over cattle, horses, and people.

Caesarius of Heisterbach, 14th c. manuscript page

Anyway, back to Caesarius, who has many stories to tell of the fires and torments of hell and purgatory, which appear to be equally horrible. A priest neglected his flock so badly that when he went to hell he found them all there, and for his failures they pelted him with rocks and threw him into an even deeper pit. Then there’s Bruno, also cast into the fiery pit, where they’re so happy to have his soul that the demons throw a feast, and toast his bad name with “a cup of hell.” Everard, said to be as bad as Bruno, is laid out after his death, but the devil animates his corpse at midnight to frighten the mourners, who have to bind him before burial.

In another story, a cleric’s corpse is reanimated by the devil to swing sweetly, but a passing monk can tell all is not well:

A certain churchman had so excellent and sweet a voice that it was thought a delight to listen to it. One day a man of religion coming and hearing the sweetness of that harp said: “That is not the voice of a man but of a devil. More-over to the astonishment of all he adjured the devil and he came out of him, the body at once collapsing and becoming putrid. Then all knew that body had long been abused by the devil.

Some of the tales get pretty dark. For example, a nun becomes pregnant and after being delivered of the child, she kills it, and then dies herself. She then appears to her kin, holding a flaming infant who torments her continually.

Then there’s Henry Nodus:

In the diocese of Treves there was another knight named Henry Nodus. Now he was extremely full of wickedness, regarding rapine, adultery, incest:, perjury and the like as virtues. When he died in the province of Menevelt, he appeared to many in a sheep-skin, as was his wont in life, haunting the house of his daughter. He could not be driven away by the sign of the cross, or by a sword. He was often struck with a sword but could not be wounded, giving off the sound of a soft bed being struck. His friends consulted John the lord bishop of Treves and he advised them to pour water on a nail of crucifixion and to sprinkle the house and his daughter and the man himself, if he was present. That being done he never appeared again. The daughter had been born of his hand-maid, although he had a lawful wife, and when she grew up, the wretch debauched her. It is not long since these things happened.

People who engage in jousting don’t fare much better than rapists:

The night after the army of the duke of Louvain was slain by the people of Liege, a servant of the count of Lootz near Montenake, passing by the place of slaughter, early in the night saw there a very great tourney of devils. I do not suppose that there had been such exaltation of the foul spirits, if they had not taken great spoils there. But of those who fall in tourneys, there is no question that they go to hell, if they have not been helped by the benefit of contrition.

Much of his writing is perfunctory, but sometimes Caesarius hits upon a nice turn of phrase, such as when a Duke returns from hell to warn his wife about the uselessness of giving alms if one has not faith: “Outside my devilish tormentor waits for me. Even if all the leaves on all the trees were to become tongues, the could not tell you enough about my torments.”

Dante and Virgil in the 9th circle, Siena ca. 1444-1450 (British Library, Yates Thompson 36, fol. 62v)

Many of the worst punishments are dealt out to nobility, clergy, and religious, particularly if they fail to uphold their vows. After a Cistercian cardinal named Jordan dies, his servant Padulph has a vision, in which he sees

a miserable crowd in the fields. Men were sitting on beasts, having their tails in their mouths, and their backs turned to their heads. Following them in a cowl and bare-foot, was [the cardinal] led by two devils. At sight of these the notary being in a great fright, the cardinal cried out: “ Pandulph, Pandulph, Pandulph!” and when the cleric stopped and said: “Who are you and why do you call out? “ he replied: “I am Jordan, your master, and I am dead.” The other said: “Where are you being taken?” and he answered: “Before Christ’s tribunal.” And he: “Do you know what will happen to you?” “I do not,” said he, “God knows. But when I come there the blessed Peter is going to give an account of my cardinalship on my behalf and S. Benedict: of my conduct as a monk. And if he can do it for me, I shall be saved, but if not, I shall be damned.” And so he was taken from his eyes.

Tile art of nuns in choir from Monasterio de la Encarnación monastery

And last for today, Caesarius evokes a creepy little ghost girl to address the grave sin of … whispering in choir.

About three years ago a little girl, I suppose, about nine years old in Mount S. Saviour, a house of our Order, died at the Advent of our Saviour. In bright daylight, when the sisterhood was standing in the choir, she entered it, and as she did so, she bowed profoundly before the altar, and so went to her place where she used to stand. Another girl of almost: the same age, seeing her standing next and knowing her to be dead, was struck with such dread that it was noticed. But being asked by the gracious lady abbess, from whose lips I heard what I am telling you, why she was so frightened in the choir, she replied: “In such and such a way did the sister Gertrude come into the choir and, when at vespers mention was made of Our Lady, she prostrated herself. And when the collect was finished, she rose and went away.”

The abbess fearing delusions of the devil said to the girl: “Sister Margaret” (that being her name) “if sister Gertrude should come again, say to her ‘Benedicite’ and if she answers ‘Dominus,’ ask her whence she comes and what she seeks.”

Next day she came again and being saluted and answering Dominus,” the girl added, “Good Sister Gertrude whence do you come at this hour and what do you want among us?” She replied: “I came here to make atonement; for I whispered with you in the choir at will uttering half-words ; there-fore I have been ordered to make atonement in the same place where it happened that I sinned. And unless you beware of the same fault, when you die, you will suffer the same punishment.”

When she had in this way made atonement four times, she said to her cousin: “Now I have completed my atonement; in future you will not see me.” And so it was; for as she looked at her, she went towards the cemetery passing through the wall by supernatural power. Such was the purgatory of that maiden.

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