28 November 2024
The Eleanor Crosses
When you visit our exhibition, Medieval Women: In Their Own Words, the first item you’ll find on display isn’t a manuscript, a document or a printed book. It’s a statue. A crowned female figure in formal robes, weathered to a ruddy brown, her body damaged in places and missing a hand, but whose distinctive likeness remains. This statue and the woman she represents lay claim to one of the most poignant stories to survive from medieval England, a testament to the strength of affection of a husband to his wife, as well as an elaborate display of royal power. This is the story of Eleanor of Castile (b. 1241, d. 1290), Queen of England, and the Eleanor Crosses made in her memory.
The reproduction of a statue of Eleanor of Castile, on display in Medieval Women: In Their Own Words, made by Michael Whitley
Eleanor was the daughter of King Fernando III of Castile and Juana of Ponthieu. She came to England in 1255 at the age of only 14, following her marriage to Prince Edward, son of Henry III, who later became Edward I. They ruled the country together for some 18 years. During their reign, Eleanor became renowned for her skill as a landowner and administrator, her devotion to the Church, and her patronage of the arts, particularly the production and copying of books. Among the manuscripts associated with her is the Alphonso Psalter (Add MS 24686), a lavishly illuminated copy of the Book of Psalms, made to commemorate the betrothal of her son Alphonso to Margaret, daughter of Florent V, Count of Holland and Zeeland in 1284.
The Alphonso Psalter, made for Eleanor of Castile’s son: Add MS 24686, f. 11r
Towards the end of her life, Eleanor’s health began to decline, some have speculated because of an underlying heart condition or possibly a case of malaria. She eventually died on 28 November 1290, a record of which can be found in a set of accounts made by her personal treasurer, John of Berewyk (see our previous blogpost on the details of this fascinating account-book). At the time, Edward and Eleanor were engaged in a tour of her properties in the Midlands, their final stop the village of Harby in Nottinghamshire. Perhaps aware of her impending death, Eleanor had already made preparations for her final resting place. Notably, she was to receive a triple burial: her internal organs were to be buried at Lincoln Cathedral, her heart in Blackfriars Priory in London, and her body in Westminster Abbey.
The final page of Eleanor of Castile's household account book, including a note of her death: Add MS 35294, f. 15v
Such was the depth of Edward’s affection for Eleanor that after her death he commissioned a permanent memorial to his departed queen, a series of large stone crosses placed at 12 sites along the route her body was taken from Lincoln to Westminster. Constructed between 1291 and 1295 at a collective cost of at least £2000 (over £1.5 million in modern currency), each cross was at least 13 metres tall and featured a representation of her likeness. Now known as the ‘Eleanor Crosses’, these sculptures stood at Lincoln, Grantham and Stamford in Lincolnshire; Geddington and Hardingstone in Northamptonshire; Stony Stratford in Buckinghamshire; Woburn and Dunstable in Bedfordshire; St Albans and Waltham in Herfordshire; Cheapside in London; and Charing in Westminster.
The sites of the Eleanor Crosses, from Lincoln to Charing Cross (Source: Wikipedia; © OpenStreeMap)
The statue in our Medieval Women exhibition is a handmade reproduction of a sculpture owned by Hertfordshire County Council and now housed at the Victoria & Albert Museum. It was originally part of the Waltham Cross, crafted by Alexander of Abingdon, one of the leading sculptors in England around the turn of the 13th century. The statue was removed and replaced by a replica in the 1950s because of the weathering it had suffered over the centuries. This was the fate of many of the other Eleanor Crosses too, which either deteriorated through exposure to the natural elements, or instead were dismantled or destroyed. Aside from the Waltham Cross, only two others now survive in their original state (Geddington and Hardingstone). But even though the statues may not mark Eleanor's final journey as they once did in the 13th century, the story behind the crosses, Edward's love for Eleanor, and the strength of the queen's image in the popular imagination has persisted.
A drawing of the Waltham Cross as it looked in the 18th century: Add MS 36367, f. 49r
To see the statue of Eleanor of Castile in person, visit our exhibition Medieval Women: In Their Own Words, on show at the British Library from 25 October 2024 to 2 March 2025. You can purchase your tickets online now.
This exhibition is made possible with support from Joanna and Graham Barker, Unwin Charitable Trust, and Cockayne – Grants for the Arts: a donor advised fund held at the London Community Foundation.
Calum Cockburn
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24 November 2024
Medieval Women at the British Library shop
There are many reasons to visit our major exhibition, Medieval Women: In Their Own Words. There are the hundreds of fascinating women whose stories you'll encounter, from Eleanor of Castile and Hildegard of Bingen, to Margaret Paston and Birgitta of Sweden. There's the collection of unique items you’ll find on display, including The Book of Margery Kempe, the Melisende Psalter, an original medieval birthing girdle and a signed letter by Joan of Arc. There’s the opportunity to play interactive quizzes to check if you’re a witch or if you’d be entitled to a divorce. You can even smell what medieval fragrances might have been like, with our recreation of an original cosmetics recipe from the 14th century.
But, all those aside, one of the main reasons to see our exhibition is the absolutely incredible line-up of medieval women-themed gift available from the British Library Shop, including one of our favourite items we’ve ever made (we’ll leave you to guess which one that is…)
Here are just a few of our top picks from the range, also available to purchase online.
Medieval Women: Voices and Visions, ed. by Eleanor Jackson and Julian Harrison
A beautifully illustrated, large format volume, accompanying the exhibition, which seeks to recover women's voices, visions and experiences in Britain and Europe from around 1100 to 1500. It includes a selection of detailed expert essays and some 40 spotlight studies, revealing the rich and complex world of the women of the Middle Ages, full of colourful characters and intriguing stories from personalities both famous and lesser known, including Christine de Pizan, Joan of Arc and Julian of Norwich.
Medieval jewellery
A range of gorgeous pieces, including this stunning necklace, created by Tatty Devine and inspired by the artistry of original brass rubbings and manuscript depictions of medieval women.
Medieval Women 2025 Calendar
Our calendar showcases twelve full-colour illustrations of women from the Middle Ages, drawn from the British Library’s extensive collections. You’ll see women from all walks of life, from queens, teachers and saints, to nuns and writers, each accompanied by a brief biography.
Christine de Pizan’s cushion cover
A wonderful addition to any living room sofa: a cushion cover with the famous portrait of the French author Christine de Pizan, taken from the ‘Book of the Queen’. It shows her sitting writing at her desk in her study, with her ever-faithful dog at her side.
Medieval Women Christmas jumper
Perfect for the festive season, our Christmas jumper brings iconic women from history to life with a brass-rubbing inspired design. It features figures such as Joan of Arc, Christine de Pizan, Hildegard of Bingen, Eleanor of Acquitaine and Julian of Norwich, each adorned with subtle details hinting at their legacy.
To see all these items and more, visit our exhibition Medieval Women: In Their Own Words, on show at the British Library from 25 October 2024 to 2 March 2025. You can purchase your tickets online now.
This exhibition is made possible with support from Joanna and Graham Barker, Unwin Charitable Trust, and Cockayne – Grants for the Arts: a donor advised fund held at the London Community Foundation.
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21 November 2024
Nunning amok
Many of the manuscripts on display in our exhibition Medieval Women: In Their Own Words portray medieval nuns as holy creatures, devoting themselves to prayer, contemplation and good works. Ancrene Wisse, a 13th-century guide for female anchoresses sets out rigorous expectations for those women who chose lives of permanent enclosure and isolation in cells attached to churches. Notably, anchoresses must ‘never [be] idle’, ‘think about God all the time’, commit to a vegetarian diet, and ‘be as little fond of your windows as possible’, avoiding distraction from the outside world. The fact that the author of Ancrene Wisse felt obliged to write out these strict guidelines suggests that religious women did not always act in ways befitting their holy houses. It raises the question: where are the badly behaved nuns in the Middle Ages?
Anchoresses are warned not to keep any animal ‘bute cat ane’ (except one cat): Cotton MS Cleopatra C VI, f. 193r
We find plenty of them in the art and literature of the period. Then, as now, the ‘naughty nun’ seems to have been a popular trope. In William Langland’s Piers Plowman, ‘Wrath’ speaks about the behaviour of the nuns at his aunt’s abbey:
And dame Pernele a preestes fyle,
Prioresse worth she nevere,
For she hadde child in chirie-tyme,
Al our chapitre it wiste.
Dame Parnel, a priest’s mistress
she'll never be a prioress
For she had a child in cherry-time:
all our chapter knows it!
In the 15th-century satirical poem ‘Why I Can’t Be a Nun’ (Cotton Vespasian MS D IX), a would-be bride of Christ is aghast to discover that many convents are ‘not well governed’, but are instead populated by figures like ‘Dame Disobedient’, ‘Dame Hypocrite’, ‘Dame Lust’ and ‘Dame Wanton’. And who can forget the infamous image of a penis-harvesting nun from a 14th-century copy of the Roman de la Rose, illuminated by the Parisian artist Jeanne de Montbaston (active c. 1325–1353)?
A penis-harvesting nun from a 14th-century copy of the Roman de la Rose: Bibliotheque nationale de France, ms fr. 25526, f.106v
While these examples owe more to lewd fantasy than to historical reality, other evidence suggests that their portraits of convents in chaos contain a grain of truth. Medieval bishops regularly surveyed monasteries and nunneries in their dioceses, and many kept detailed records of their visitations. Eudes Rigaud, archbishop of Rouen, visited several convents between 1249 and 1265, and was not pleased with what he found. He wrote up nuns for faults ranging from ‘singing the hours with too much haste’, wearing costly pelisses of ‘the furs of rabbits, hares and foxes’, to drunkenness and sex with priests and chaplains.
A dancing nun in the margin of the Maastricht Hours: Stowe MS 17, f. 38r
English visitation records give examples of whole convents in disarray. At Cannington in 1351, in addition to poor leadership from a cash-hungry prioress and a lazy, Matins-shirking sub-prioress, a nun called Joan Trimelet was found pregnant—‘but not indeed by the Holy Ghost’, as the bishop’s commissioners wryly remarked. Joan Trimelet’s pregnancy was not unique. The convent of Amesbury was dissolved in 1189, following reports that the abbess had given birth three times, and that many of the sisters were living in ‘infamy’.
The misbehaviour of individual nuns could put a strain on their entire community. Bishop Alnwick’s 1442 report of Catesby Priory gives an insight into the disorder that could arise in a poorly governed convent. Through Alnwick’s documentation of the nuns’ voices, we find hints of a quarrel between the prioress Margaret Wavere and sister Isabel Benet, who accused each other of sexual misconduct with local knights. While other nuns commented on Benet and Wavere’s impropriety—one accuses Benet of having ‘passed the night with the Austin Friars at Northampton... dancing and playing the lute with them... until midnight’—they seem more upset by the prioress’s poor management of convent finances, and her tendency to ‘sow discord among the sisters’. Under such conditions, it is understandable that some nuns could not keep to the high standards of behaviour set out in their monastic rules. Most medieval convents were small and poor in comparison to equivalent men’s houses. It is no wonder that underfed, underfunded nuns living together in close quarters didn’t always abide in holy harmony.
A flirtatious nun with a male companion from the margins of the Maastricht Hours: Stowe MS 17, f.226r
Is it a surprise that some nuns wanted to call it quits entirely? Medieval ecclesiastical records give several examples of nuns on the run, attempting to leave their orders for reasons ranging from trying to reclaim an inheritance, running away with a lover, to simply having had enough of convent life. Sometimes convents would see flights of multiple nuns at once: in 1300, Isabella Clouvil, Matilda de Thychemers and Ermentrude de Newark all fled Delapré Abbey in Northampton, much to their bishop’s disappointment.
Church authorities often exerted considerable force to haul such nuns back to their houses. In the 14th century, Agnes de Flixthorpe, a nun of St Michael’s in Stamford, ran away from her Order at least three times, once dressed in a man’s gilt embroidered robe. She claimed that she had never been legitimately professed as a nun and was legally married to a man she refused to name. Bishop Dalderby of Lincoln responded by branding Agnes an apostate, sending secular authorities to imprison her, and eventually excommunicating her. The last reference to her case is in 1314, when Agnes was still at liberty, and we don’t know whether Dalderby’s forces managed to catch her again.
The greatest escape artist of all was surely Joan of Leeds, a nun of St Clement’s by York. In 1318, Joan slipped the convent’s net by ‘simulating a bodily illness’ and then faking her own death. She made a dummy ‘in likeness of her body’, which was buried in ‘sacred space’, leaving Joan free to ‘wander at large to the notorious peril to her soul and to the scandal of all her order’, as Archbishop Melton of York put it. Exactly what motivated her to leave is unclear. In 2020, researchers at the University of York discovered another 1318 letter from Melton, in which he reports that Joan had come to another priest, ‘Brother John’, ‘with great sorrow in her heart’. She apparently described how ‘as a girl and being under the age of personal discretion she was forced to enter the Order... by her father and mother... she both never consented to this and continually protested and also never uttered any vow of profession’.
A specific mention of ‘Johana de Ledes’ in Melton’s Register. Archbishop of York’s register, 9A f. 326v, entry 2
Joan’s story is not just one of ingenuity and bravery, but also reflects a harsh reality of medieval monastic life. Many nuns were professed at a young age, compelled to the religious life not by a legitimate calling, but by their parents’ desire to keep them out of trouble, be rid of an inconvenient second or third daughter, or even deprive them of an inheritance. Convent life was a rich tapestry, in which nuns of various levels of commitment lived and worked together: as the author of ‘Why I Can’t Be a Nun’ writes, ‘some are devout, holy and obliging’, while ‘some are feeble, lewd and forward’.
The procession of nuns to the mass: Yates Thompson MS 11, f. 6v
For more stories of complicated, daring medieval women, visit our exhibition Medieval Women: In Their Own Words, which runs until 2 March 2025. Tickets are available to order now.
This exhibition is made possible with support from Joanna and Graham Barker, Unwin Charitable Trust, and Cockayne – Grants for the Arts: a donor advised fund held at the London Community Foundation.
Rowan Wilson
Follow us @BLMedieval
09 November 2024
Joan of Arc at the British Library
There are many incredible items on display in the British Library's Medieval Women: In Their Own Words exhibition. One of the most special is undeniably a letter bearing the oldest known signature of Jeanne la Pucelle, known to English-speaking readers as Joan of Arc. Written on 9 November 1429, this letter has never previously left Riom, the town to which it was sent by Joan almost 600 years ago. We are immensely grateful to the Archives municipales de la Ville de Riom (Puy-de-Dôme) for entrusting us with their precious document, and to Jean-François Moufflet (Archives nationales, Paris) for helping to facilitate this loan.
Letter from Joan of Arc to the citizens of Riom, featuring the earliest surviving example of her signature (Moulin, 9 November 1429): Archives municipale de la Ville de Riom, AA33
Joan was born into a prosperous peasant family in the village of Domrémy during the Hundred Years' War between England and France. Urged by heavenly voices, she ran away from home to join the cause of the Dauphin Charles, son of the French king, to drive the English from France. Riding into battle with the French army at the siege of Orléans in May 1429, Joan inspired a spectacular victory, paving the way for Charles to be crowned King of France on 17 July. But Joan then experienced a downturn in fortunes. Leading an assault on Paris on 8 September, Joan was wounded and the French suffered over 1,500 casualties. Charles ordered a retreat, and Joan became increasingly isolated at the French court, without allies to support her.
When Joan sent her letter to the citizens of Riom in November 1429, she had been sent to recover an area of the eastern Loire from the clutches of the mercenary Perrinet Gressart, who was working for the Burgundian and English forces. On 4 November, a force under her command captured the town of Saint-Pierre-le-Moutier, prompting Joan to turn her attentions towards the town of La Charité-sur-Loire, also held by Gressart. In this letter, she requested gunpowder and other military supplies that would aid the assault.
The text of the letter reads as follows:
Chers et bon amis vous sauez bien comment la ville de Saint-Pierre le Moustier a esté prinse d’assault; et, à l’aide de Dieu, ay entencion de faire vuider les autres places qui sont contraires au roy. Mais pour ce que grant despense de pouldres, trait et autres habillemens de guerre a esté faicte devant ladicte ville, et que petitement les seigneurs qui sont en ceste ville et moy en sommes pourveuz pour aler mectres le siége devant la Charité, où nous alons prestement. Je vous prie sur tant que vous aymez le bien et honneur du roy et aussi de tous les autres de par deça, que vueillez incontinant envoyer at aider pour ledit siége, de pouldres, salepestre, souffre, trait, arbelestres fortes et d’autres habillemens de guerre. Et en ce faictres tant que, par faulte desdictes pouldres et autres habillemens de guerre, la chose ne soit longue, et que on ne vous puisse dire en ce estre négligens ou refusans. Chiers et bons amis, Nostre Sire soit garde de vous. Escript à Molins, le nèufviesme jour de Novembre.
Jehanne
A mes chers et bons amis, les gens d’église, bourgeois et habitants de la ville de Rion.
'Dear and good friends, you know well how the town of Saint-Pierre-le-Moutier has been taken by an assault; and, with God’s help, it is my intention to empty the other places that are against the king. But because a large amount of gunpowder, projectiles and other materials of war were expended before the said town, and because I and the lords present in the town are poorly equipped to besiege La Charité, where we will be going soon, I ask you, in the name of the love you have for the honour and well-being of the king, as well as all the others who are here, to send us gunpowder, saltpetre [a type of early explosive], sulphur, arrows, arbalests [a type of crossbow] and other military supplies without delay to help with the siege. And do this well enough so that the siege does not drag on because of a lack of powder and other materials, and no one can accuse you of being negligent or unwilling. Dear and good friends, may Our Lord protect you! Written at Moulins, the 9th day of November.
Jehanne
To my dear and good friends the people of the church, the bourgeois and the citizens of the town of Riom.'
This is one of only a handful of surviving letters of Joan of Arc, and one of just three — the first, no less — to bear her signature. Joan dictated her letter to a scribe, but signed her own name at the end. You can almost see the pen held tightly in her hand, as she carefully inscribed the letters 'Jehanne'. Despite being illiterate, Joan of Arc (aged just seventeen) undoubtedly knew the value of the written word. We do not know whether Joan succeeded in persuading the citizens of Riom to come to her aid, and the assault on La Charité-sur-Loire certainly failed. But what we can witness in Joan's signature is an emotive physical link to one of the most inspiring figures in medieval European history.
In the British Library exhibition, the letter to Riom is displayed alongside copies of the proceedings of Joan's trial, which resulted in her burning at Rouen on 30 May 1431, followed by her rehabilitation trial in the 1450s, at which the charges laid against Joan were nullified. We are thrilled to be able to show this letter to the visitors to our exhibition, thanks to the generosity of the Archives de Riom.
The exhibition Medieval Women: In Their Own Words is made possible with support from Joanna and Graham Barker, Unwin Charitable Trust, and Cockayne – Grants for the Arts: a donor advised fund held at the London Community Foundation.
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07 November 2024
Requesting a raise: the petition of Joan Astley
At a time when women’s work was often undervalued, one woman petitioned for a raise in her salary. Her name was Joan Astley and she was nurse to Henry VI (r. 1422-1461, 1470-1471), who became King of England at only eight months old. She made her petition to the king and his council on 14 January 1424, when Henry had just turned two, asking for her annual salary to be doubled from £20 to £40, equivalent to around £35,000 in modern currency. The petition, written in Middle French, now survives on a single leaf in the British Library’s collections (Stowe Ch 643), and is currently on display in our exhibition, Medieval Women: In Their Own Words.
The petition of Joan Astley to Henry VI, asking for a pay increase; 14 January 1424: Stowe Ch 643
Joan came from a well-connected family. Her father, Sir Thomas Gresley (d. 1455) was a Lancastrian nobleman and landowner in Derbyshire who had fought in recent military campaigns in France. Meanwhile, her husband, Sir Thomas Astley (d. by 1432) was a relative of Richard Beauchamp (d. 1439), Earl of Warwick, a figure at the very heart of the English government. Upon her appointment in 1422, Joan entered a household that was principally based at Windsor and almost wholly composed of women. It included two additional nurses, Elizabeth Ryman and Matilda Fosbroke, a chamberwoman by the name of Agnes Jakeman, a laundress named Margaret Brotherman and at least two other female attendants.
As the king’s nurse, Joan had an essential role to play. The high infant mortality rate during the period meant that, even with the wealth and privilege that befitted his status, the king needed to receive the best care if he was to survive to adulthood. Joan would have been expected not only to breastfeed the young Henry, but also take responsibility for his general health and well-being, his daily life, and his education in his formative years.
A mother chooses a potential wet nurse, from Aldobrandino of Siena’s Regime du Corps: Sloane MS 2435, f. 28v
Joan’s role was even more significant considering the sudden death of Henry VI’s father, Henry V (r. 1413-1422), in 1422. Henry VI was the sole surviving heir from his father’s marriage to the French princess Catherine of Valois (d. 1437). When the infant king ascended to the throne, England had to be ruled by a regency council until he came of age. If Joan had failed in her care and Henry had not survived into adolescence, the whole country could have been plunged into a major succession crisis.
The birth of Henry VI, showing Catherine of Valois with her nurses and attendants, from the ‘Pageants of Richard Beauchamp’: Cotton MS Julius E IV/3, f. 22v
When Joan submitted her petition to the king and his council in January 1424, the two-year-old king was too young to answer her request. Yet the council evidently felt that Joan had done her job well because an inscription on the back of the document indicates that the increase in her salary was not only granted but given to her for life, a fact corroborated by the pipe rolls (a collection of financial records maintained by the English Exchequer). The same year, the composition of the royal household began to change. In April 1424, a governess called Alice Butler was appointed to teach Henry courtesy, manners and discipline. A few years later, at the age of seven, the young king had all but transitioned away from the community of women who had looked after him, spending most of his time under the care of the Earl of Warwick and with other boys from noble and royal families. He no longer had any need for a nurse and Joan’s time in the household ended altogether.
However, this was not the end of her story. After her husband died in the early 1430s, Joan remained in the king’s favour. Further grants and annuities were awarded to her in the following years, probably as a reward for her service. Most notably in 1446, she was one of three founders given a royal license to establish a fraternity and chantry for St Botolph’s without Aldersgate, a parish church in the Smithfield area of London. Joan lived nearby, one of a number of widows who rented properties within the lands owned by St Bartholomew’s Hospital during this period. A rental for the hospital, compiled in 1456 by Brother John Cok (and now known as SBHB/HC/2/1) lists her as the resident of a tenement above the Smithfield Gate and tenant of a small garden in the vicinity. She probably remained there until her death (sometime after 1463), when she was said to have been buried in St Botolph’s Church. Though Joan’s home no longer exists, in 1907 a plaque was installed to commemorate the site, serving as the foundation stone for a new building in the complex of the hospital.
A plaque marking the site of Joan Astley’s home in the grounds of St Bartholomew’s Hospital
You can see the petition of Joan Astley in person by visiting our major exhibition Medieval Women: In Their Own Words, which runs from 25 October 2024 until 2 March 2025, at St Pancras in London. Tickets are available to order now!
This exhibition is made possible with support from Joanna and Graham Barker, Unwin Charitable Trust, and Cockayne – Grants for the Arts: a donor advised fund held at the London Community Foundation.
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05 November 2024
Birgitta's marvellous marginalia
A monumental manuscript is on display in our Medieval Women exhibition. Harley MS 612 measures 54.5 x 38 cm, weighs over 15kg, and usually requires at least two British Library staff members to place it back onto its shelf. It is a compilation of Latin material by and about Birgitta of Sweden (d. 1373), copied in the mid-15th century for the Birgittine brothers of Syon Abbey. With its gorgeous, illuminated initials, wide margins, and elegant script full of decorative flourishes—courtesy of Thomas Colyngbourn, the manuscript’s scribe—one can easily imagine the awe of the Syon brothers on seeing it lying open on a lectern to be read aloud during the evening meal.
A monumental copy of the works of Birgitta of Sweden, made for the brothers of Syon Abbey: Harley MS 612, ff. 164v-165r
The text begins with a Latin translation of Birgitta’s Revelations, her visions and teachings originally written down in Swedish, but Birgitta’s voice peters out over the course of the manuscript. Considerable space is devoted to defences of Birgitta by male ecclesiastical authorities, posthumous accounts of her miracles, and even lives of other saints. As you move through the volume, it becomes more of a ‘Birgittine book’ than it is ‘Birgitta’s book’: less a document of the Swedish saint’s mysticism, and more of a grand testament to the cementing of her cult in England—and to the wealth of the community whose order bore her name.
So, amid all this institutional grandeur, what’s this doodle doing in the margins?
A marginal figure marking an addition to the text: Harley MS 612, f. 118r
Or what about this cheeky little face that peers out from the letter ‘h’ in the Latin word ‘humiliter’?
Peekaboo: Harley MS 612, f. 138r
The manuscript is full of these surprises. Marginal images are dotted throughout—some glossing the text, some marking additions, and some of them seemingly just for fun. Where they came from is something of a mystery. The volume’s exemplar (the model from which it was copied) has not been identified, so we can’t tell whether the scribe was copying them out from a manuscript sitting open in front of him, or making them up as he went along. Some patterns of marginal images seem to suggest the scribe was working with a planned programme in mind, such as the concentration of images on ff. 78v-82v, all illustrating bits of text next to which they appear. They include a trussed-up corpse head with a banderole warning about the spiritual death of worldly souls:
‘For just as they died a bodily death’ (Sicut enim illi morte corporali moriebantur): Harley MS 612, f. 78v
… and this yapping creature, a fox in a shell, seemingly representing the ‘serpent-born’, devil-suckled beast described in the text as seeking to supplant its superiors:
‘Tending towards treasons’ (proditiones tendere): Harley MS 612, f. 80v
But other marginal images seem less integral to the manuscript’s design. Instead, they are like little Easter eggs, visual treats tucked into the pages to delight any reader willing to look closely enough. This tiny critter, buried in the gutter, playfully glosses the Virgin Mary’s words to Birgitta about bad bishops being as flashy and insubstantial as butterflies:
A butterfly buried in the gutter: Harley MS 612, f. 32v
On another page, what at first looks like a simple doodle to prop up an overflowing line reveals itself as a clever illustration of the accompanying text, in which Mary tells Birgitta that Christ is like a poor peasant carrying around brushwood:
A wooden support illustrating an overflowing line of text: Harley MS 612, f. 50r
My own favourite marginal images play with the manuscript’s physical dimensions, creating trompe-l’œil effects that turn the two-dimensional page into a playground of light, shadow, and depth. You feel as though you could almost step into this tiny door, which represents Christ’s promise to protect all those who enter the Bridgettine order from their enemies:
Knock, and it shall be opened unto you (Qui in eam intraverunt): Harley MS 612, f. 164v
Then there’s this addition suspended on a ‘rope’, which, when you turn the page, appears to be driven through the folio and attached on the other side. The scribe was clearly enjoying himself here.
A real page-turner: Harley MS 612, ff. 232r-v
Since this manuscript is on display in our Medieval Women exhibition, however, I would be remiss if I didn’t end this tour of the manuscript’s marginalia with what appears to be its only image of Birgitta herself, a small portrait peeking out between two columns of text.
After all, even though this image appears alongside a male bishop’s words, defending and ‘authorising’ Birgitta’s sanctity, it’s the rich, strange, dizzying images of the divine in Birgitta’s own Revelations that must have inspired the scribe to create his gallery of wonders in the margins. However demure she looks in this portrait, Birgitta was a woman of remarkable force and intellect—just one of many whose stories are represented in our Medieval Women exhibition.
Holy Birgitta, pray for us: Harley MS 612, f. 207v
Medieval Women: In Their Own Words is on show at the British Library from 25 October 2024 to 2 March 2025. You can purchase your tickets online now.
This exhibition is made possible with support from Joanna and Graham Barker, Unwin Charitable Trust, and Cockayne – Grants for the Arts: a donor advised fund held at the London Community Foundation.
Rowan Wilson
Follow us @BLMedieval
31 October 2024
Medieval witches
While we were developing our exhibition Medieval Women: In Their Own Words, the most common question we were asked was, “Will you be including witches?” Although many people think of the Middle Ages as a time when women were widely persecuted as witches, in fact witchcraft trials were rare before 1500. The European “witch craze” only reached its peak in the early modern period, during the late 16th and 17th centuries. Still, the late Middle Ages was the time when many myths about witchcraft first developed. We always aim to please, so this Halloween we’re pleased to announce: yes, we’re including witches!
In 1486, notorious inquisitor Heinrich Kramer published a book called Malleus Malificarum (Hammer of Witches). This guide to identifying and prosecuting witches codified many ideas about witchcraft that became influential in later witch trials: that witches are predominantly women, that they enter pacts with demons, that they use magic to cause impotence, crop failure, disease and death of livestock and people. Yet the Malleus Malificarum was the culmination of a development that took place throughout the 14th and 15th centuries, when several strands of thought about magic, spirituality and women came together into one disastrous stereotype. In this blogpost, we explore these various strands as well as the stories of some of the earliest accused witches.
Midwives and herbalists
From the earliest times, women were important healthcare providers. In the absence of any formal healthcare system, informal networks of female practitioners provided medical cures and assisted women during pregnancy and childbirth. Methods of treatment ranged from blood-letting to herbal remedies to magical charms. Sometimes they would use their skills for non-medical purposes, such as supplying love charms, finding lost objects and predicting the future.
The male medical elite looked down on female practitioners. The English surgeon and medical writer John Arderne (d. c. 1377), for example, wrote dismissively of “þe medycinez of ladiez” (the medicines of ladies), which, he said, made patients worse. We can see how the woman healer whose practices spanned the medical and the occult became a figure of distrust and derision in John Lydgate’s The Pilgrimage of Man. In this moralising verse account of an allegorical journey, the pilgrim “everyman” meets an old hag who, it turns out, is the personification of sorcery. This unpleasant character is peddling inscriptions, images, ointments, herbs and astrological readings, which she uses for malicious ends. The pilgrim asks her, “Tell on without more tarrying, where learnest thou all thy cunning?” She replies, “Soothly as I rehearse can, I learned my cunning off Satan”.
Sorceresses and the devil
In the Middle Ages witchcraft was not a secular crime, but from the 14th century it came to be regarded as a form of heresy making it punishable by the Church. The heresy trials of the Order of the Knights Templar beginning in 1307, designed by Philip IV of France as a means to destroy the powerful order, included trumped-up accusations of sorcery, devil worship and performing sexual acts with demons. Many Templars confessed under torture, the order was disbanded and the leaders burned at the stake. These trials set an important precedent for establishing sorcery as evidence of heresy and paved the way for the persecution of women associated with magic.
In 1324, perhaps inspired by the trials of the Templars, one of the earliest known witchcraft trials in Europe took place. The accused was Alice Kyteler of Kilkenny in Ireland, whose three wealthy husbands had all died mysteriously leaving her with a great fortune. Richard Ledred, bishop of Ossory, pursued the case after Alice’s stepchildren accused her of using sorcery to infatuate and kill her husbands. Seven lurid charges were made against her, including that Alice summoned demons, brewed potions and had a sexual relationship with a demon incubus named Robin Artisson. Alice fled to England and evaded punishment, but her maidservant Petronella of Meath was tortured and burned at the stake as an accomplice.
Visionaries and demons
The association between women and supernatural influences was also informed by their prominent role as spiritual visionaries in medieval religious culture. It was believed that visionaries were able to witness glimpses of the supernatural world and communicate with spiritual beings such as God, saints or angels to gain hidden knowledge. While visionaries could be male or female, women were particularly attracted to the visionary path as it was one of the few ways that they could claim individual religious authority. Some female visionaries recorded their experiences and created important works of religious literature, including Hildegard of Bingen, Bridget of Sweden, Catherine of Siena and Julian of Norwich.
Yet a career as a female visionary could be risky. Many churchmen were concerned that holy women might be receiving visions not from God but from the Devil. They considered that women were particularly susceptible to supernatural influences, including those of a more malevolent nature. As Heinrich Kramer explained in the Malleus Malificarum:
“Women are naturally more impressionable, and more ready to receive the influence of a disembodied spirit; [...] when they use this quality well they are very good, but when they use it ill they are very evil” (translation by M. Summers, 1971).
Church authorities developed elaborate systems to determine whether a reported vision was truly from God. Those whose visions were deemed to be from the Devil, especially those who gained power and knowledge from him, could be accused of witchcraft and heresy.
One of the most famous visionary women to be accused of witchcraft was Joan of Arc. During the Hundred Years War between England and France, the illiterate peasant girl received visions of saints and angels who told her to help the Dauphin Charles accede to the throne of France. She became the hero of the French army at the siege of Orleans, before being captured by the Burgundian-English alliance and tried for heresy. During the trial, the inquisitors accused her of visiting a “fairy tree” near her village of Domrémy, where she supposedly danced and adored the fairies. They concluded that Joan’s visions were not of saints but of evil spirits, such as Belial, Satan and Behemoth. She was found guilty and burned at the stake in 1431.
The English were particularly keen to remember Joan as a witch. The Brut chronicle, one of the most popular accounts of English history in the medieval and early modern periods, refers to Joan as “the wicche of Fraunce” (the witch of France), and claims that “By her crafte of sorserie alle the Frensshe men and her compeny trystid for to haue ouyrcome alle the Engelisshe pepull” (By her craft of sorcery, all the French men and her company trusted that they would overcome all the English people).
Political witches
Political motivations also underlie many of the other high profile witchcraft accusations of the period. Perhaps the biggest witchcraft scandal in medieval England centred on Eleanor Cobham (d. 1452), Duchess of Gloucester. Eleanor rose from a position in the lower gentry to become one of the most powerful women in England as the mistress and then wife of Humfrey, Duke of Gloucester. Humfrey was the uncle and heir of King Henry VI of England, meaning that he and Eleanor could have become king and queen if Henry had died young.
Eleanor fell victim to court politics in 1441 when she was accused of encouraging a group of scholars to make horoscopes predicting the untimely death of the king, and employing a woman named Margery Jourdemain, “the Witch of Eye”, to perform sorcery for her. At her trial, Eleanor denied plotting against the king, although she did admit to buying fertility remedies from Margery Jourdemain to help her to conceive a child with Humfrey. Both Eleanor and Margery were found guilty of heresy. Eleanor was made to perform humiliating public penance, divorce Humfrey and spend the rest of her life in imprisonment. Margery, who had been in trouble with the authorities for witchcraft before, was burned at the stake as a relapsed heretic.
Eleanor Cobham was not the only woman connected with the English royal family who was accused of witchcraft in the 15th century. Earlier in the century, Joan of Navarre (d. 1437), widow of King Henry IV of England, was accused of witchcraft as a thin excuse to confiscate her money and lands to help pay for Henry V’s war with France. Later, the Titulus Regius of 1484 justified Richard III seizing the throne of England from his young nephew by claiming that the marriage of Edward IV and Elizabeth Woodville came about through “Sorcerie and Wichecrafte, committed by the said Elizabeth, and her Moder” (sorcery and witchcraft committed by the said Elizabeth and her mother).
These accusations show the great fear directed at women who were active in English politics, particularly those who challenged the status quo by marrying into the royal family for love rather than diplomacy, and — in the case of Eleanor Cobham and Elizabeth Woodville — climbing the social ladder from relatively obscure backgrounds. In each of these examples, including Alice Kyteler and Joan of Arc, accusations of witchcraft proved to be a convenient tactic for discrediting an ambitious and influential woman in a way that was impossible for her to disprove.
Women healers, visionaries, heretics and accused witches all feature in our Medieval Women exhibition. You can encounter unique historical manuscripts relating to Joan of Arc, Eleanor Cobham and Elizabeth Woodville, and you can even have a go at our digital interactive “Are You a Witch?”, based on criteria from the Malleus Malificarum.
Medieval Women: In Their Own Words is on show at the British Library from 25 October 2024 to 2 March 2025. You can book your tickets online.
This exhibition is made possible with support from Joanna and Graham Barker, Unwin Charitable Trust, and Cockayne – Grants for the Arts: a donor advised fund held at the London Community Foundation.
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29 October 2024
Keeping a cat and other rules for anchoresses
Our exhibition Medieval Women: In Their Own Words highlights the stories of women across medieval society, from labourers and artisans to abbesses and queens. Some of the most unique experiences were had by anchoresses, religious women such as Julian of Norwich (d. after 1416), Christine Carpenter (fl. 1329-1332) and Margaret Kirkby (d. c. 1391-4), who chose to enclose themselves permanently in cells attached to churches. There they lived lives of prayer, contemplation and devotion to God.
Several surviving texts provide guidance to anchoresses about how to live their lives. One handbook, known as Ancrene Wisse, was composed in the first decades of the 13th century, supposedly for three sisters who had chosen to enter the contemplative life. One of the earliest and most important surviving manuscripts of this text (Cotton MS Cleopatra C VI) is on display in the exhibition. The Middle English work not only offers anchoresses spiritual advice, but also practical instructions about all aspects of their daily routine, outlining the rules they are expected to observe, from their food and drink to their clothes and possessions, and even the pets they could own.
The earliest surviving manuscript of Ancrene Wisse; England, c. 1225-1230: Cotton MS Cleopatra C VI, f. 193r
Here is a selection of these rules that give a taste of what life as an anchoress might have looked like:
Life in the Anchorhold
- An anchoress’s cell should only have three windows: a church window, that provides a view into the church to see the Eucharist, a house window, to allow for food and other goods to be brought in, and a parlour window for dealing with the outside world. These windows should be as small as possible, and closed when not in use.
- Anchoresses are not allowed to preach and can only offer advice to women. They are also not allowed to criticise men for their vices, the exception being ‘holy old anchoresses’ who may do it in a certain way (the text does not elaborate).
- Anchoresses should not curse or swear.
- Anchoresses must not become teachers or turn the anchorhold into a school.
- They should neither send letters, nor receive letters, nor write without leave.
- Anchoresses are allowed maidservants – Julian of Norwich is known to have had two, called Sarah and Alice – but they have to observe strict rules.
The enclosure of an anchoress by a bishop; London, 15th century: Lansdowne MS 451, f. 76v
Diet, Sleep and Hygiene
- Anchoresses must not use meat or fat in their meals but instead observe a diet of vegetable stew and be accustomed to drink very little.
- Eating with guests outside the anchorhold is not allowed, and men are barred from eating in the anchoress’s presence.
- Anchoresses and their maidservants should not eat or snack outside of mealtimes.
- No one else is allowed to sleep in the anchoress’s home, and anchoresses must only sleep in their beds.
- Washing is encouraged! Anchoresses can wash themselves and their things as often as they like.
- Anchoresses must have their hair cut, shaved or trimmed four times a year.
- Bloodletting is permitted (a common medieval medical treatment), but the guide warns that afterwards, the anchoress should do nothing strenuous for three days and pass the time with her servants, sharing ‘theawfule talen’ (virtuous stories) together.
- When unwell, anchoresses should not take remedies advised by ‘uncundelich lechecreft’ (unnatural healing), in case they make things worse.
Clothing
- Clothing should be plain, warm and well-made.
- A covering should be worn upon the head, either a wimple or a simple cap.
- In winter, an anchoress’s shoes should be soft, large, and warm, while in summer, light shoes can be worn, or there is the option to walk barefoot.
- Anchoresses should not own rings, brooches, patterned belts and gloves or any other kind of adornments.
The only animal an anchoress was allowed to keep was a cat: Add MS 42130, f. 190r
Manual Work and Possessions
- Anchoresses should not conduct business. An anchoress who is fond of bargaining ‘chepeth hire sawle the chap-mon of helle’ (sells her soul to the peddler of Hell).
- They should not make embroidered items like purses, caps, silk bandages or lace as a means of making friends. If they want to sew, they can make church vestments or mend clothes for the poor.
- Anchoresses can receive gifts from ‘good people’, but they should not take anything from those they do not trust. Examples of untrustworthy people include those with ‘fol semblant’ (foolish pretences) or ‘wake wordes’ (idle chatter).
- Anchoresses are not allowed to look after other people’s possessions, including clothes, boxes, charters or tally sticks, indentures, church vestments and chalices.
- No pets allowed! Anchoresses are told ‘ne schule ye habben nan beast bute cat ane’ (you should not keep any animals, except a single cat), so they do not invest too much thought on their welfare. If an anchoress must have an animal, then it should not bother or harm anyone and she should not think too much about it, as an ‘ancre ne ah to habben na thing thet ut-ward drahe hire heorte’ (‘an anchoress should not have anything which draws away her heart’).
Ancrene Wisse was one of the more popular medieval anchoritic handbooks – at least 17 manuscripts of the text survive, with translations in Middle English, Anglo-Norman French and Latin – but whether these rules represented a reality for all anchoresses is difficult to judge. There may have been other advisory texts available to guide them, some less stringent than others. One can also imagine the individual relationships anchoresses had with their communities meant that a life of restriction and near-total seclusion was harder to adhere to. Nonetheless, the rules Ancrene Wisse sets out give us a sense of what these women were knowingly committing to when then entered the contemplative life.
An anchoress inside her anchorhold; London, c. 1400-1410: Cambridge, Corpus Christi College, MS 079, f. 96r
To learn more about the lives of anchoresses, visit our major exhibition Medieval Women: In Their Own Words, which runs from 25 October 2024 until 2 March 2025, at St Pancras in London. Tickets are available to order now!
This exhibition is made possible with support from Joanna and Graham Barker, Unwin Charitable Trust, and Cockayne – Grants for the Arts: a donor advised fund held at the London Community Foundation.
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