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Herman the Cripple

A body helpless in deformity
Was mine, though loving parents carried me
Full seven years in sick infirmity,
Then placed me in the monks’ academy.

Their island abbey Reichenau became
My home to nurture life, surrounded by
The beautiful Lake Constance, Nature’s frame
For all my shriveled nature might reply.

Herman the Cripple, or Contractus, I
Was rubbish in Christ’s Benedictine flock,
Whom kindly brothers strove to edify—
And each one proved a worthy alpenstock.

Through cramps and spasms, pangs and throbs, I bent
My fingers to the quill, my will to learn,
Just as my eyes, ears, voice, more diligent,
The sooner for God’s work began to yearn.

His service led through growth in discipline,
Although I struggled at philosophy,
A stubborn donkey or a slug therein,
Despite my passable calligraphy.

Listen! So says our rule of brotherhood,
And by the age of twenty I could sing,
For God had given me a mind as good
As legs and form inept for anything.

He slowly taught my heart a love fraternal,
Encompassing you whom I never saw,
Though it is lesser than my joy supernal
In loving her who fills all hearts with awe.

I’ve written more than others would be able,
Astronomy, mathematics, history,
And from affection true and chaste and stable,
Emerged far-famed enduring poetry.

A thousand years, two lyrics read and sung,
Words fragrant as mature and costly orris,
They breathe as written, in the Latin tongue,
Salve Regina and Alma Redemptoris.

The works’ renown is welcome, but I find
An author known to be unnecessary:
These antiphons of sweetness unconfined
Belong entirely to Our Lady Mary.

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Herman of Reichenau (1013–1054) became well-known as a scholar in many fields. His two poems named above remain in regular devotional use, in the original and in numerous translations.

The video of 450 voices from 33 countries singing the Salve Regina was made by an organization based in Chile during the international lockdown of April 2020.

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Margaret Coats lives in California.  She holds a Ph.D. in English and American Literature and Language from Harvard University.  She has retired from a career of teaching literature, languages, and writing that included considerable work in homeschooling for her own family and others. 

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44 Responses

  1. Daniel Kemper

    It’s so important to bring the history of certain figures to light, but not only as an icon, a moment, but as a real person with a life that progressed and developed and grew. You’ve illustrated that well here. I kept thinking about Thomas Quasthoff when I read it. I always like your attention to full detail in these things–that the knowledge of such remarkable people is affirming and fleshes out the experience, but does not over step the real point, the inclination of our hearts to the divine, in which it is in service. That kind of detailed follow through is extremely rare.

    Oh, I’m also reminded of a friend I’ve made at the SPC in the past couple of months. He’s the only one there with a good reason to use his iPhone at the mic–he uses the voice reader to read his poetry and short stories–he’s mute. Imagine that, a mute poet. I’ll have to dedicate an essay to him.

    BTW, he loves traditional poets like Keats etc. You just never know what you’ll find!

    Back to the main, I really liked this stanza:

    “A thousand years, two lyrics read and sung,
    Words fragrant as mature and costly orris,
    They breathe as written, in the Latin tongue,
    Salve Regina and Alma Redemptoris.”

    There’s a very skilled tension and release that engages each rhymed pair, and I adore clever ways to bring the authentic Latin into rhymes with English.

    Encore!

    Reply
    • Margaret Coats

      Thanks, Daniel, for seeing a full personality here, and for suggesting Thomas Quasthoff as a contemporary example of a disabled human being who nevertheless became a great singer using the talents given him. He is especially relevant to a detail I put in this poem, because Quasthoff has said his mother felt guilty about taking the thalidomide that caused his deformity, and he therefore wished to thank her for her care of him by proving he could make something of himself. Herman Contractus could not possibly have survived infancy without devoted parents. I wanted to emphasize their love for him by giving them a few words here–and of course they made that contribution to his development as a loving person. Herman was never able to walk; I can just see his father doing more of the carrying as he grew toward the age of seven, the normal time for a boy to be given to the monks. He was not an abandoned baby on a church doorstep; Mom and Dad chose the place, and again I see Dad rowing the boat across the lake to one of the better schools of 1000 years ago. And by the way, Saint Benedict in his Rule says his order is a “school of the Lord’s service” for anyone entering at any age.

      Glad you like that stanza–in a way, it is the high point of the poem that Herman with his practically useless body could create songs lasting a thousand years, and still appreciated in the language of poetic art that he used at the time.

      Reply
  2. jd

    Thank you, Margaret, for the beautiful poem about the author and his glorious creation put to music. I will think about him each time we sing it during this, Our Lady’s month.

    Reply
      • Margaret Coats

        You’ve inspired me to send the post to my own music director. During the last year, he taught us the more elaborate solemn tone for Salve Regina.

    • Margaret Coats

      Thank you, jd, for your beautiful thoughts. I’m happy to tell of someone who made such a glorious contribution to Our Lady’s honor.

      Reply
  3. Jeremiah Johnson

    Really liked the rhyme on those lines ending in “alpenstock” and “Redemptoris.” And, overall, enjoyed this story of how our Father takes the weak things of this world, nourishes them through the ministry of the body of believers, and then reveals the hidden gems he’s placed within us. This is an encouraging poem!

    Reply
    • Jeremiah Johnson

      P.S. – On listening to the connected link it clicked with me that the emphasis of the poem is on “our Mother” uses the weak things of the world.

      Reply
      • Margaret Coats

        Responding to the video, Jeremiah, you’re focusing in particular on Herman’s poem more than mine. I do have him attribute his greatest work to Our Mother, and he would agree that loving her gave great strength to his abject weakness.

    • Margaret Coats

      Those were lucky rhymes, Jeremiah. Alpenstocks are certainly used in the area Herman came from, and monasteries have long been associated with production of botanicals like orris root. Even more, they’re good for nourishing spirits weak and strong. Glad this poem painted an encouraging picture!

      Reply
  4. Warren Bonham

    I’ll bet your words made Herman squirm,
    and blush since someone so infirm
    who though placed on the rubbish heap,
    wrote words that still make each heart leap.

    I wonder how many Hermans we all step over and ignore because they don’t look the way we think they are supposed to. Thanks for yet another eye-opener.

    Reply
    • Margaret Coats

      Thanks, Warren, for your little tribute to Herman’s modesty. There are surely many like him (though not as wretchedly afflicted), in whom we fail to recognize the potential. Sometimes bad behavior is more of a challenge to onlookers than physical disability, but this too can sometimes be overcome.

      Reply
  5. Roy Eugene Peterson

    I would have been thrilled to be one of your students with you as my teacher. Your elevated vocabulary and detailed information always provide a lesson to me. The marvelous rhyme flows beautifully. Your message is another great lesson–how the least likely can become among the greatest with the Grace of God!

    Reply
    • Margaret Coats

      Thanks, Roy! Herman, who embodies the message, had in his own time produced an educational chronicle of human history, and useful treatises in mathematics, and his work in astronomy made people think he might have invented the astrolabe. No one would have considered him a likely expert in any of these areas, and maybe even less so in the poetry for which he’s remembered. Encouraging indeed!

      Reply
  6. Yael

    Margaret thank you for the beautifully worded history lesson, which will assure that I have learned at least one new thing today, and the day isn’t even over yet. If I look up Reichenau abbey I may learn another thing before the sun sets. Your poetry is always a blessing to me.

    Reply
    • Margaret Coats

      Yael, I hope you’ve had a chance to look up some pictures of the abbey in its lovely lake setting. A serene place for the great cultural center it was during a long time. I’m most grateful when my poetry can be a blessing–thanks for reading!

      Reply
  7. Gigi Ryan

    Dear Margaret,

    In a world flooded with bad news, I was blessed to read a delightful story in the form of a well written poem that reminds me that God cares for the poor, often uses others humans in the process, and then brings beauty for ashes.

    Thank you.
    Gigi

    Reply
    • Margaret Coats

      Gigi, “beauty for the ashes” is a wonderful expression for what God can make, elevating persons and things we may think are the least worthwhile material. Thank you for finding delight and blessing in this poem!

      Reply
  8. Joseph S. Salemi

    This is a dramatic monologue, in which the speaker (Herman) gives an account of his life, his difficulties, his education, and his accomplishments. And yet there is a suggestion (or a mere hint) of a silent interlocutor in quatrain 6, where the speaker gives the command “Listen!” I first thought this was just the reciting of a Benedictine rule (Audite!), since the words that follow are plainly “So says the rule of our brotherhood…”, but the following quatrain talks of “a love fraternal, / Encompassing you whom I never saw.” Is this “you” the reader, posterity, or someone else? It cannot be the Blessed Virgin, since she is mentioned in the next two lines as someone providing a greater “supernal” love than the fraternal love mentioned just before.

    There’s no hint in the remaining three quatrains as to who this “you” might be, so that leaves us with either the reader, or posterity, or both. It is clear in the final quatrains that the speaker Herman is talking from beyond the grave, and beyond human measurement of time. The poem’s beginning is all past tense, and the choice of words suggests time’s flow (“sooner,” “seven years,” “the age of twenty,” “slowly,” “began, “growth”). But we are kicked into eternity when Herman speaks about all that he has written, and his “far-famed enduring poetry,” and the thousand-years renown of his two hymns. Such self-praise would never come from the mouth of the living humble monk. This is Herman in 2024, in a state of blessedness.

    Margaret has pulled off a difficult trick — she has started with a narrative, such as might be given by an old man telling about his life, but then pushes it beyond earthly life into Redemption. The monologue is in some sense a rebuke to the modern notion that the achievement of great art is a valid substitute for personal salvation. Herman’s final quatrain gives all the credit to where the credit is due.

    Reply
    • Margaret Coats

      Joe, thank you for setting out your reading of the poem (especially the time scheme) in detail. This gives others a way to follow you through the poem to your conclusion that the speaker is Herman in 2024, in a state of blessedness. Furthermore, I will agree (though I hadn’t thought so far) that the poem is a rebuke of sorts to the belief that great artistic achievement is a substitute for working out one’s personal salvation. You are right that Herman achieved art enduring for a thousand years, but gives the credit for it rather to the Virgin Mary who inspired it. He himself is a monk who attended to the duties of his state and developed monastic virtue–that is, he took the recognized road of salvation.

      About time in the poem, I consider that the first clue is in the second line where Herman says a helpless deformed body “was mine.” He is no longer in his body as he speaks, but this is not emphasized so that he can tell his earthly story. You are right to notice “Listen!” (an imperative addressed to someone) as an indication that there is a listener. But you are also right that it is the first word of the Benedictine Rule, and that he is still telling the story of what listening did for him as a Benedictine. It ultimately meant that he learned to sing–to perform the opus Dei (work of God), which to Saint Benedict is principally the recitation of the entire Psalter each week as prescribed in the Rule. Herman was professed rather late for a boy growing up in a monastery and presumed to have a vocation. Ordinarily this would have happened at age 12 to 14, when the boy had shown a religious disposition and ability to perform the opus Dei. Herman’s disability prevented his easy movement to and from the chapel eight times a day. I also presume physical infirmity may have delayed the usual development of singing ability. Singing is a whole-body task. Herman was professed as a monk at age 20, when the abbot and brothers could have finally been convinced that he was able and willing to do a monk’s duty, even though he may have needed help and occasional dispensations.

      “Encompassing you whom I never saw” shows that Herman intends the fraternal love he now possesses to be extended to all who will ever be his brothers–first of all in the monastic order, and then anyone who listens to his personal narrative. This is indeed readers of my poem and hearers or singers of his hymns, whether or not they know him as the author. It is enough that they learn to love Mary as he did. That makes men he never saw his brothers.

      I very much appreciate your careful reading, and the opportunity you give me to say more about how I think it works.

      Reply
  9. Gary Krauss

    Margaret, I join the chorus of the others above in their applause for this beautiful poem and accopanying video with English translation. The combination brought tears to my eyes. Jesus is Divine Mercy and Mary is his mother who intercedes for all of us. That Mercy knows no bounds, including taking the “rubbish” of a saintly soul and converting it into a powerful instrument for the Kingdom.

    Reply
    • Margaret Coats

      Thank you, Gary! “Rubbish” is Herman’s honest term for himself–and he also called himself a donkey or slug when it came to learning philosophy. A humble soul is the best kind God can use to make a saintly and powerful one. Appreciate your powerful response to both the poem and the video that demonstrates how Herman’s work for Our Lady remains current.

      Reply
  10. Paul A. Freeman

    An inspiring tale, Margaret, as is the story behind the video. Both cases of making the best of a bad situation, and ultimately excelling.

    Reply
    • Margaret Coats

      Thanks, Paul. Glad you praise the video, because those Chilean musicians and filmmakers did a stupendous job with this one. There were many virtual choirs during the lockdown, mostly made up of younger singers because each individual needed technology skill as well as musical ability. But I have never seen and heard one with more than about 20 singers. This production has 450 participants who spoke many languages, and many of whom contributed video footage to the film, which became a devotional documentary as well as a virtual choir performance. The Chileans had to direct the whole, ensuring that singers stayed on pitch and followed the tempo set by the soprano cantor, not to mention carrying through the emotional brightness derived from her facial expressions and head motions and body language. It’s hard enough to accomplish all that when the conductor has the choir in his presence!

      Reply
    • Jonicis Bulalacao

      What a beautiful and poetical way of conveying the inspiring message of the triumph of mind and heart over disability, and the value and superiority of any work done for God and our Lady!
      Thanks for this, Margaret!

      Reply
      • Margaret Coats

        Joni, thank you for taking time from your work for God and Our Lady, to make this comment. I know you value what Blessed Herman did, as you are taking the trouble to teach singers the still more beautiful solemn tone of the Salve Regina. Much appreciate all you do!

  11. C.B. Anderson

    I loved both the poem and the video/audio that came with it. Would it be fair to say that Herman was the Stephen Hawking of his monastic order?

    Reply
    • Margaret Coats

      C. B., it’s quite fair to say that you make thought-provoking comparisons. Herman and Hawking, however, could rather be polar opposites. They both had long term and very serious disabilities, and both won scholarly repute anyway, but that’s where the comparison must end. With regard to the disability, Thomas Quasthoff, the renowned bass-baritone mentioned above by Daniel Kemper, is much more like Herman, as both of them were born with bodily afflictions and never knew any other life. Hawking was diagnosed with motor neuron disease in his mid-20’s, a time of life when theoretical physicists are already doing the major work for which they will be known. One of my own reasons for not going on in physics was that early peak phenomenon. Hawking was already a many-universes cosmologist, and even though his debilitating disease progressed extremely slowly, he stayed there, and achieved much more for 50 years with refinements and expansions of that work. He became a cult figure or god of the concept–which by its very nature makes humanity utterly insignificant in what you call “how things are.” In fact, it’s ironic that Hawking was able to retain successfully his human characteristics (including speech, and later, mere communication) by use of technology far more practical than anything he ever worked on. And Hawking was an atheist who felt and taught that God was unnecessary.

      Herman, on the other hand, was a scholar, theoretical and practical, in many different fields. And he struggled even to begin the long learning that led to his achievements. His life was far shorter than Hawking’s, and while he was admired, he was not adored, always pointing beyond himself to God. He is an example of true human significance in “how things are.”

      And since I seem to be occupied here with that question of human significance in the one created universe, let me say that my favored contemporary cosmologist is Max Tegmark. Tegmark is not disabled, and he’s no saint as Herman is, but he did at an important point in his career declare that he had been converted to the idea that humanity and its place in the universe are significant. He’s written about human life after artificial intelligence–a worthy topic.

      Reply
    • Margaret Coats

      Thanks, Mrs. Moore! Glad to know you found it enjoyable.

      Reply
  13. Brian A. Yapko

    This is a wonderful dramatic monologue, Margaret, which has the benefit of giving voice to an inspiring story – one of which I was unaware. Like Joe, I read through the piece initially uncertain of how I should read the speaker’s timeframe and the identity of the interlocutor, if any. I came to more or less the same conclusion: since the piece does indeed offer details of Herman’s earthly life but also events that go well past it (including their significance), I too read this as a heavenly summation of his life and achievements. And we, the readers, are literally the intended recipients of his speech. His humility is presented with sensitivity and the rhymes are splendid, especially “orris/redemptoris.” It is a blessing to be reminded that a person can be of service to God with or without a perfect Earthly body. And the accompanying video is thrilling.

    Reply
    • Margaret Coats

      Thank you, Brian, for the attention you show in all you touch on here. I do like the term “time scheme” for that aspect of a poem in which having such a scheme is meaningful. Please see what I said above to Joe about Herman’s time scheme, which is much the same as Augustine’s “eternal present.” For a human soul, this includes his own past that led to his redemption.

      I have a special point to make in Herman’s rather startling turn to the reader “encompassing you” (the reader) in the love he has experienced in the monastery. This is, I think, how saints would look upon those still struggling to be saved in and from the world. Herman has not been canonized, but he is a “beatus” or blessed one who could be declared a saint in the future. In his earthly body, he would have looked unlovable, but by right use of the powers of his soul, his highly gifted intelligence and memory moved his will to love. And as he is now outside time, that fraternal love extends and finds new objects beyond his time in history.

      I suspect Victor Hugo may have thought back to Herman as the realistic ideal when he created the fictional Quasimodo. The Romantics often looked back to some better time when social circumstances were less miserable for the poor. Herman’s upbringing by the Church is what Quasimodo’s should have been–and it used to happen when “life was good under the crozier.”

      But here in our own times, I’m happy that you found the video thrilling. As I said above to Paul Freeman, it is a triumph for the makers in Chile. Singers in a virtual choir are singing all at the same time, not on superimposed multiple tracks. You’ll understand how difficult it would have been to keep 450 of them at the same tempo while singing an unmeasured Gregorian piece. The conductor cannot even use a flashing-light metronome, because syllables are divided into irregular groups of two and three, with the number of notes for each even more irregular. Then the film as a whole shows dozens of responses to Herman’s 1000-year-old song in the particular ways of personal and family prayer lives.

      Thanks so much to Evan for agreeing that the video complements the poem, and for placing it as I could not have done.

      Reply
  14. Cheryl Corey

    I especially enjoyed the comparison of Herman’s “kindly brothers” to “alpenstock” and of the lyrics to “orris”. The richness of your vocabulary drove me to search for their meaning.

    Reply
    • Margaret Coats

      It was a thoroughly appropriate opportunity to use “orris,” the name for a substance almost mythical (even in incense guessing games) because it takes so long to mature, with a corresponding increase in expense. The lyrics are just as precious, though thankfully more accessible. Thank you, Cheryl, for reading and taking time to comment. Much appreciated!

      Reply
  15. Julian D. Woodruff

    One of your best, Margaret–thank you. I don’t think Bl. Hermann’s activity as a music theorist has been mentioned. He was concerned both with matters of notation and tonal hierarchy. Your poem does him distinctive honor.

    Reply
    • Margaret Coats

      Thank you, Julian. I much appreciate your judgment that the poem honors Blessed Herman with distinction he deserves. Your special knowledge qualifies you to say so, and I too think this work is one of my best. As well, you are correct that there is much more to say of Herman. I tried to deal with his musical side by speaking of his singing and his best-known poems that are so often sung, but his interest in and writings on music theory help show how truly broad his mind became. There is as well his unfinished work on psychology, in the treatise on the seven deadly sins that he left incomplete. He is certainly one who did his best to live up to his God-given potential!

      Reply
  16. Alan Orsborn

    I, unlike others, tended to receive the whole poem, and the video, together as one expression, although I realize that one is about the song writer and saint, and the other is his hymn. I guess I just tend to kind of merge things together. Salve Regina, what a beautiful Latin expression to Our Most Holy Theotokos and Ever-Virgin, Mary. Beautiful poem, beautiful hymn.

    BTW I had to look up alpenstock. By my count that puts me in arrears with you.

    Reply
    • Margaret Coats

      Thanks, Alan, for both your comments. I agree that in this post, the video is practically necessary. I could hardly speak of Herman’s greatest poems without presenting at least one for readers to experience in some way. This amazing video is just the thing, because it proves that people all over the world still value Herman’s work. If you look at information below it on YouTube, the 33 countries where singers come from are listed. It is a wide range from all the inhabited continents. AND the English subtitles to the hymn tell what the Latin words mean, so we understand what Herman wrote. Glad you find it beautiful.

      As for alpenstock, I didn’t know the word either until last year, when I saw many walkers and climbers using them in Germany!

      Reply
  17. Alan Orsborn

    “These antiphons of sweetness” aptly describes this beautiful poem that tells a beautiful story. Regarding orris (which I was also driven look up—I am now greatly in your word debt) what is going on with “and” in that line? In my first reading my brain filled it in with “as,” but on second look I wondered if the issue is a misplaced comma after “orris.” Or am I befuddled?

    Reply
    • Margaret Coats

      The line, “Words fragrant as mature and costly orris,” speaks of the long processing (maturing) that makes orris the rarest and most expensive (costly) substance in perfumery. Orris comes from iris roots, dried, ground, and distilled. The maturing process can take up to five years. The original volume of iris root collected is reduced to a very tiny amount of orris. I never had the pleasure of smelling pure orris, but it did seem an excellent description of how precious the antiphons have been over a millennium. Of the two, Alma Redemptoris is more difficult to sing, partly due to an enchanting cadence that took me and my children many music lessons to master!

      Reply
  18. Mary Jane Myers

    Margaret

    Thank you for this wondrous poem. The vocabulary is gorgeous, the pentameter is perfect, and the rhymes are subtle. Aristotle’s rhetorical triangle is superbly illustrated here: logos (a well reasoned text); ethos (what a shining exemplar is the speaker, Blessed Herman) and and pathos ( I found myself starting to cry–and now I’m sharing this poem with many others). You also have woven in a mini-biography of this fascinating saintly figure. I am intrigued, and now want to research his life and work.

    Two autobiographical disclosures:
    1) I have hanging here in my study a superb print of the Cistercian Lilienfeld Monastery that I bought in Vienna–the “idea of the monastery” is a daily inspiration to me.
    2) I used an “alpenstock” as a “prop” in a “magical realist” short story “The Curious Affair of Helen and Franz” in my collection Curious Affairs. Those intricately carved walking sticks are conducive both to brotherly spiritual love and to romantic entanglements!

    My favorite image: “Through cramps and spasms, pangs and throbs, I bent my fingers to the quill”….and I complain about a little back discomfort as I sit in my fancy aeron chair!

    Most sincerely,
    Mary Jane

    Reply
    • Margaret Coats

      Mary Jane, thank you very much for the comment covering so much of how you appreciate the poem and Blessed Herman, the subject. He is one real historical figure whom we can call a classic in many senses. I did focus on the struggle he must have had to achieve all he did–and thus he is a true ideal to us who have so much less to overcome. The monastery atmosphere certainly helped, with its orderly life according to rule. But most of all the fraternal charity and sense of heavenly purpose created a community that built up its members and all who knew of it. I am also interested to hear of your thoughts on alpenstocks and their human value. Again, thank you.

      Reply
  19. T.M.A. Day

    Thank you for this Margaret.

    I’ve always been touched by the Salve, which I’ve prayed every night for most of my adult life. It’s so clearly been written by someone who has experienced deep sorrows and terrible graces.

    It struck me once how the entire poem, from the first word to the last, is almost working up the courage to say the name of Mary at the very end. Vita, Dulcedo, et Spes Nostra salve!

    Reply
    • Margaret Coats

      You’re right, Mr. Day, about the poem’s effect of working toward the name that must have been so well loved by Herman. As I’ve said above, his parents deserved great credit, which certainly laid a foundation for the “supernal” love of the Redeemer’s Mother. I’m glad to know that the Salve Regina has such a part in your life; it is the same in my family. Treating it here as the culminating accomplishment of Blessed Herman’s vast range of learning and activity in God’s service seems only right. My best wishes and prayers for your sacred vocation!

      Reply

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