Age and the Monastic Life at Thalbach in Bregenz

Age and the monastic life: age at entry visualized

BACKDROP:

When did convent sisters join a monastic community? There’s no one clear answer. During the Middle Ages, the church sought to regulate the age of entry; the Fourth Lateran Council of 1215, for instance, set that age limit at 14 for girls and 15 for boys. Evidence from England suggests that, at least for men, the age of profession was set between 15 and 21 years (Hatcher, p. 26), and Knowles’s study on The Religious Orders in England finds that by the fifteenth century, there were “few late entrants” to the monastic life (pp. 230-31).

The circumstances are quite different in the Ukrainian orbit, where “secular women could enter a monastery... on a temporary basis” and might only later join the novitiate (Charipova, p. 267). For the convents that Liudmila Charipova has studied in the 18th century, the age of admission clusters between 15 and 22, with an average age at profession of 20. Outliers as young as age 12 and as old as 35, however, show that the age-range at entry was quite variable for these Ukraniane convents (Charipova, Table 1). She identifies a “clear distinction,” however, between profession of “virgins” and that of widows; those entries are listed separately in her source records and had different entrance requirements (Charipova p. 271 and Table 4). She finds the size of Catholic convents in the Polish region, however, to be substantially smaller than their Orthodox peers (Charipova p. 277); their demographics also seem to have followed patterns closer to those familiar from Western European convents.

In Western Europe in the later Middle Ages and Early Modern period, one would typically start the monastic life as a postulant (a kind of testing period) and then be formally received as a novice in the community. Profession came later, at the time of maturity, which the Council of Trent set at age 16 as a bare minimum, after a minimum of a one-year novitiate. 

   

From Postulant to Novice to Professed Sister

Craig Harline shows that for the Early Modern period, the sisters of both active and contemplative orders in the Low Counties tended to be in their 20’s “when they began the religious life.” Eva Schlotheuber, on the other hand, sees a persistence of child oblation, noting that the girls had typically lived within the convent community already for several years prior to this more permanent dedication to the religious life. Whether as oblates or postulants, there is clearly a probationary period before the mature sister can make her profession. 

The term “oblate” doesn’t appear in the records at Thalbach in Bregenz, but the patterns of entry can tell us something important about the nature of the community. Thalbach had been founded, at least according to legend, in 1336 as a loose sisterhood, was brought into the more structured fold as Franciscan Tertiaries during the sixteenth century, and was closed during the Josephine reforms (the “Aufhebung”) in 1782, and the building passed to the Dominicans of Hirschberg a few years later.

The work that follows is based on Thalbach in its Franciscan identity, and draws heavily on the Thalbach monastic Chronicle, which frequently reports sisters’ age of entry as well as their age at profession (seen as two distinctive events), and sometimes gives age at birth. For other sisters, birth-year for these sisters can be back-calculated, for a number of entries give age at death. We should use these data with caution – are we sure that 75 year olds have secure memory of their birth year? – but it gives us a shape and profile to the monastic community at a specific Vorarlberg-area tertiary house in the early modern period.

AGE OF ENTRY

At Thalbach in Bregenz, we can determine the age at entry for 80 sisters – roughly half the sisters whose names are known. For 65 of these monastic sisters, the chronicle actually records the age of entry. For another 15, we have age at death plus death year, so we can roughly calculate birth year, and that can be subtracted from the date of entry to determine an approximate age of entry. 

Data profile: most evidence at Thalbach is 17th and early 18th c

 

There’s some bias to the Thalbach data; we have no age-related information for the first two centuries of the convent’s existence, picking up only in the middle of the 16th century. The bulk of the information on specific sisters comes from the 17th century, and the data drops off sharply at the mid-18th century, since the closure of the monastery in 1782 disrupted both lives and data-keeping for the convent community. But with data for at least half the sisters, there’s some utility in understanding how age intersects with convent entry.

 

The Tridentine clerics might have appreciated the overall profile of entry; 45% of Thalbach’s sisters entered at age 13 to 18 (shown in green), and another 25% entered as adults at ages 19 to 24 (in blue). Thus, self-election into the sisterhood was largely done at the ages legally empowered to make decisions, and for the youngest of the group (the 13-year-olds), profession typically held off for an extra year or two. There was a small “bump” of older entries above age 25, but this was not a house that had a large population of widows or late-in-life entrances. Once one hit age 30, life would take a different course than entry into this house of tertiaries.

More challenging, however, is the presence in the convent of pre-teens, who made up 23% of the convent entries (teal and orange in the pie chart above). As the saying goes, every life has a story, and there are some stories to be told about these early entries. We shall return to them below.

A different visualization of the same data shows that the distribution of entry into Thalbach really did center on the 13 to 18 year olds. The “bell curve” skews a bit to the older population, with 20 sisters entering in the 19-to-24 range vs only 13 in the 7-to-12 range. This is, of course, as it should be from a legislative standpoint for convent life.

The challenge is, if one isn’t supposed to be able to “enter” the convent until maturity, what are all those younger girls doing in the house?

YOUNGSTERS OF THE CONVENT

Part of the answer lies in the education that Thalbach provided. Like so many other women’s convents, it provided a community service, functioning as a school though not formally labeled as one. Some of these early entries might be school-girls who wound up drawn to the monastic vocation. That is borne out in many of the endowment documents, which show several youngsters’ affiliation with the convent started as an educational one, before converting to a profession-track novitiate at some time in the teen years.

The call to spirituality could be a powerful force, and it’s important to recognize its import for the life of the Thalbach community. Two of the mid-18th century sisters were, in fact, given profession on their deathbeds. Maria Augustina Müller made her vows on her deathbed in 1752, and Maria Justina Secundin from Weingarten did likewise in 1765. The latter was a music student, and had been looking forward to her profession. When she became ill, the sisters rallied around her, and let her take her vows of profession early in order to be joined to the Order before her death. She was buried in the garb of a full-fledged sister, in keeping with her wishes. (Details on both sisters can also be found in Fußenegger (1963), 137 and 139.) 

There were exceptions to the rule, however. Take Anna Kläfflerin (Kläfler / Kläffler), for instance, who had joined as an infant. She was, to quote the Chronicle, “found in the chapel on the altar.” An abandoned foundling, the sisters clearly had a duty to care for her, even if, in 1532, her entry was without precedent (see Fusseneger 137 and Chronicle fol. 13r). Nearly a century later, in 1616, Amalia Rehmin, who eventually took the monastic name Felicitas, entered at age 4. Her father, however, was an administrative secretery at Mehrerau, and her mother, Euphrosina Öltzin, was equally well-connected, so her early entry may have been a matter of political maneuvering. But as represented in the chronicle, the majority of the early entries are simply noted without further commentary. A sister arrived young, stayed for a period of years, and then professed when of the age to do so. For Thalbach, at least, this seems to have been a relatively standard practice. 

What the convent’s membership files suggest (but the Chronicle does not say), given the presence of numerous paying youngsters over the years, is that the educational offerings of the convent may have been among their strongest recruiting tools. As an institution serving pre-teen girls in Bregenz, the Thalbach sisters had relatively little institutional competition. Some students took their education with the Sisters and returned fully to secular life; others became part of the convent’s sisterhood themselves. 

AGE AT PROFESSION

Given the variable age at entry at Thalbach, it is perhaps reassuring to see that the age of sisters at profession is in the more mature years. With two notable exceptions, none of the sisters professes before age 13, and there are peaks at age 15, 19, and 21 as sisters choose the permanence of community over the possibility of a secular lifestyle. The average age of profession at Thalbach is 18 years old. 

What of those two exceptions? Both are unusual cases. The first is Barbara von Ach of Wolfurt. Her noble status and the needs of dowry, marriage alliances, and the politics of noble life may have led to an early decision based on family need more than a mature monastic calling. In other words, she might be truly categorized as an oblate, with family decision as a stand-in for her independent choice. The second, however, is 8-year-old M. Dorothea Mayer. Her situation – like the infant Anna discovered on the altar mentioned above – is one of charity, for she enters at age 5, already a “righteous and motherless” (Rechten vnd Mutterloß) candidate. Dorothea’s permanent affiliation to the convent is inevitable, and the decision was evidently made to allow her to profess formally before the normal age of decision in light of personal circumstances.

AGE AT DEATH

One more category of age-related data remains: age at death. What the statistics from Thalbach suggest is that convent life must have been relatively congenial. Of course, given that dates of profession precluded the years of early childhood mortality, we should be unsurprised that life expectancy ran longer than for the average population of the day. At Thalbach, average life expectancy was nearly 63 years, and a substantial portion of the sisters lived into their seventies and eighties:

 

CONCLUSION

The patterns of age at entry, profession, and death at Thalbach offer a window into the lived realities of its monastic community. While most sisters entered the convent in their teenage years, a significant portion joined as pre-teens, often for educational access. However, the presence of child entrants, some as young as infants, underscores the complex interplay between charity, family dynamics and decisions, and monastic vocation during the time. Meanwhile, the relatively high life expectancy of the sisters suggests that convent life was both structured and, in many ways, life-sustaining. By analyzing these age-related patterns, we gain a deeper understanding of how Thalbach functioned not only as a religious institution, but also as a social and educational space within early modern Bregenz.

WORKS CITED

Charipova, Liudmila V. “Virgins and Widows: Imperial Legislation and Practices of Admission to the Novitiate and Profession in Ukrainian Women's Monasteries (1722–86).” Slavonic and East European Review, vol. 90 no. 2, 2012, p. 262-287. Project MUSE, https://dx.doi.org/10.5699/slaveasteurorev2.90.2.0262.

Fußenegger, Gerold. “Bregenz am Bodensee: Terziarinnenkloster Thalbach.” Alemannia Franciscana antiqua 9 (1963): 93–140.

Harline, Craig. “Actives and Contemplatives: the Female Religious of the Low Countries before and after Trent.” The Catholic Historical Review 81 (1995): 541-67.

Hatcher, John. “Mortality in the Fifteenth Century: Some New Evidence.” The Economic History Review, N.S. 39 (1986): 19-38.

Knowles, David. The Religious Orders in England, vol. ii. Cambridge UP, I955.

Schlotheuber, Eva. “Die Klöster im Kreise der Familien. Orte der Erinnerung, des religiösen Kultes und der Feste.” Monastische Kultur Als Transkonfessionelles Phänomen 4 (2016): 239-248.

Schlotheuber, Eva. Klostereintritt und Bildung. Die Lebenswelt der Nonnen im späten Mittelalter. Mit einer Edition des ‚Konventstagebuchs‘ einer Zisterzienserin von Heilig-Kreuz bei Braunschweig (1484–1507). Tübingen 2004, especially pp. 175–221.

Building for the Ear (from Chaco Canyon to Medieval Vorarlberg) (2/23/25)

An image of Chaco Canyon ruins from 2012

Note: The current blog post is in dialog with Primeau and Witt (2018), and draws on my own wanderings through Vorarlberg during summer 2024 and on Herbert Kaufmann’s Sakrale Kunst und Kulturstätten to understand Vorarlberg church placement.

Primeau and Witt’s study of “Soundscapes in the Past” asks “how people heard in their wider surroundings,” and answer the question in part with GIS measures. Their insight is that landscape matters and consider significant the “location of features within the built environment and performance spaces” (875).  They use the term “soundshed” – akin to watershed – to capture the way in which sound carries or is disrupted by the topographical features of a place.

They center their study on the rich archaeological site at Chaco Canyon, proposing that the Chacoan builders utilized terrain and topography as acoustical elements in their planning. They suggest that “certain features may have been placed at their locations so individuals may have heard events occurring elsewhere” (p. 875). In other words, the Chaco Canyon residents built with an eye (an ear?) toward the soundshed that surrounded them, choosing building locations and orienting openings to best use the acoustical features of a resonant landscape.

Primeau and Witt acknowledge the embodied nature of hearing, but importantly point out that larger elements in the local environment can shape these embodied perceptions. As Tilley (2008) has shown, surfaces, inclinations, textures and other elements can reduce or amplify sound. Given the nature of a canyon environment, echoic and non-echoic surfaces abound, both as elements of the built environment and of the natural surroundings.

The stark nature of Chaco Canyon’s building ruins of mud-brick and stone (shown in Figure 1 in the left-hand column) might historically have been softened by furs and fabrics, and almost certainly had sound-absorbing storage or even people – in other words by surfaces with less resonance than the  present day. The landscape too with its swales and swells, the hills and cliffs, and even the plant life each contribute in positive and negative ways to noise propagation, particularly at distance.

  Four Views of Chaco Canyon, July 2012

Primeau and Witt  believe, with Hamilton and Whitehouse (2006) that there can be an effective and measurable distance for interactions including speaking and shouting. Their newer methodology, however, seeks to establish more objective parameters than merely personal experience. They propose SPreAD: a System for the Prediction of Acoustic Detectability.

They observe that there are various element at play, distance attenuation being only one. Sound source height plays into sound’s ability to carry, as does the atmospheric absorption loss, which varies by temperature and humidity. Nevertheless, they assert that “Like visibility, audibility can be an actively managed aspect of the built environment, and one can question the relationship between sound and site in the landscape.”

For them, the presence of ceremonial sites on higher locations had significance, for it might mean the audibility of a ceremony’s start or end by individuals elsewhere in the Canyon community. Events in one place were meant to be experienced by individuals in another, they argue, and topographical placement support that.

For a medieval monastic historian, their conch shell examples were readily translated into the positioning of churches in Austria’s Vorarlberg. Such churches had a marked preference for locations on the hills that jutted up out of the local landscape; it is the rare church indeed that lacks a view (or that can be visited without a hike or a climb!). The inventory in Kaufmann (n.d.) makes the point effective: in image after image, it is easy to get a photo of the church from down below (as it were), because they are so frequently higher than the surrounding neighborhood. This can be confirmed in person; wear good walking shoes if you want to climb to see the building in person.

The parish church of St Nikolaus in Damuls, for instance, is on a hill; if it were waterside, we’d describe its placement as on a promontory:

  Damuls -- church of St Nikolaus: image July 2024

Already more prominent than the surrounding landscape, the position of the bells for Vorarlberg churches were even further elevated through built bell towers, typically added in the 13th to the 17th centuries. Elevation proves to be even more important than central location; many of the central churches of my study are several blocks away from the heart of the medieval “downtown,” such as it was. Clearly, the acoustical benefits of being high, along with the defensible ones, made these locations prime real-estate from the perspective of church communications. Neighbors near and far could readily hear the ringing of bells for starts or ends of service – along with weather warnings or peals of other sorts (war, arrival, general announcements). This meant that the topographical benefits of height outweighed the inconveniences of a further walk or an uphill climb. Just as at Chaco Canyon, events in one place in medieval Vorarlberg were meant to be experienced by individuals somewhat distant, and, again like Chaco Canyon, the topographical placement of churches and their bells support that.

Primeau and Witt’s study reinforces the idea that sound is not just a byproduct of environment but an actively shaped and managed aspect of spatial experience. Their concept of the “soundshed” and the methodology of SPreAD provide tools for assessing how people in the past may have structured their auditory worlds with intention—whether for ceremony, communication, or social cohesion.

Applying this framework to medieval churches in the Vorarlberg highlights how different cultures have used elevation to project sound across landscapes. These parallels suggest that sound, like sight, was a crucial factor in how such historical spaces were designed and experienced. Soundshed and soundscape design mattered as much to the late medieval church-planner as to the Chacoan builder some three centuries earlier. Both actively sought to manage audibility as an element of their built environment. Building for the ear in this way reminds us that sound was never incidental—it was an integral part of how people of the past shaped and experienced their worlds.

WORKS CITED:
Hamilton, Sue, Ruth Whitehouse, Keri Brown, Pamela Combes, Edward Herring, and Mike Seager Thomas. “Phenomenology in Practice: Towards a Methodology for a ‘Subjective’ Approach.” European Journal of Archaeology 9, no. 1 (2006): 31–71.

Kaufmann, Herbert, ed. Sakrale Kunst und Kulturstätten: Landesausgabe Vorarlberg. Innsbruck: Süd-West-Presseverlag, n.d.

Primeau, Kristy, and David E. Witt.“Soundscapes in the Past: Investigating Sound at the Landscape Level.” Journal of Archaeological Science Reports 19 (2018): 875-885.

Summer’s Soundscape Research--by the Numbers (10/6/24)

Sampling of frescoes, St Nikolaus, Ludesch, Vorarlberg, Austria

My summer’s research was focused on Thalbach, a women’s convent of “devoted sisters” founded in 1336 in Bregenz, Vorarlberg, Austria. I was working on the women’s soundscapes, for the sisters were involved in town ceremonies and had lively -- and acoustically active lives inside their convent as well. I was in Austria, mostly, though with side trips to a number of countries. 

Research included frescoes and artworks, along with the standard array of manuscripts and incunabula (early prints), documents (so many documents) and a certain amount of standing around in cemeteries waiting for bells to ring. No, really. 

I drafted up my “account” of “summer successes” as a bit of a joke (yay, count all the things!) and then, unjokingly, fell silent as I went through a month (ugh!) of viral bronchitis. 

Here, rather belatedly, is my assessment of a summer of delightful research on soundscapes in Vorarlberg, Austria. 

1.1 million steps. That’s actually only an average of 7.3 miles a day. But it's still a lot.

16,677 photos. Mostly of documents, manuscripts, and books, but also some absolutely stunning scenery. Best hike: the Rappenlochschlucht outside of Dornbirn, Vorarlberg– a moss-bedecked gorge hike, noted for its wooden walkways hooked into the canyon sides. Waterfalls, a natural bridge, forest, and serenity: it was a great way to start a day! 

The Rappenlochschlucht, Dornbirn, Austria--zigging and zagging back through the gorge...

125 “Akten” – archival folders – across 21 boxes. Kind of like going through your great-aunt’s attic; the box may be labeled but you’re never quite sure what you’re going to find. Best find of the summer: a book-list from a local farmer who paid his taxes with books rather than with cash. The sisters were so happy with his books that they waived the third round of taxes that year! 

108 manuscripts and early prints.This was the core of my research. These materials are undigitized, and a number of the books had readers’ marks so you could see what the nuns had found interesting. My favorites were of two types. In one, books were bound by recycling old unwanted manuscripts – this means I could see physical evidence of 14th and 15th century liturgical practices in Thalbach, exactly what I had hoped to find! And the other type were the ones with illustrations; I admit that opening a book and discovering it had pictures – some of them colored! -- was one of the great joys of the trip.

Museum Exhibitions I have loved, Summer 2024 version

25 museums in 6 countries. Altarpieces, artwork, and three fantastic special exhibits. “Wir, Schwestern” (We, sisters) was on nuns and the book arts, and another was on the scriptorium at Reichenau, and a third was on Hans Holbein the Elder, Hans Burgkmair, and Albrecht Dürer. 12 abbeys and monasteries In addition to Thalbach itself, this included the Swiss monasteries of Grimmenstein and Wonnenstein, both of which were interconnected with the Bregenz monasteries in reform practices. 

8 churches with 15th c. frescoes. This was the special treat of my trip. These churches had full or partial programs of illustrations with sacred content – saints; judgment day; the life of Jesus; the life of Mary; and various builders’ marks and early modern graffiti. There were a number of visual parallels to illustrations in the Sisters’ books. And there’s nothing like standing in a church listening to the church bells and looking at the visual reminders of religious practices of the past to make the content of one’s research come to life. 

Random and planned events. And yes, I accidentally attended the inauguration ceremonies in Bratislava, Slovenia; talked church politics with a nonagenarian Swiss school-teacher outside the Bischofszell city hall; shared travel advice with a Czech pilgrim who is walking the long version of the Camino de Santiago; and had breakfast with Blair alumni in Vienna. Plus, there were the innumerable coffees and conversations with librarians and archivists, historians, curators, musicologists, composers, performers, and friends. 

TL/DR: Summer research success for me boils down to the “four P’s”: paper, parchment, pictures, and people.