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.

 

Follow us @BLMedieval

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.

Calum Cockburn

Follow us @BLMedieval

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  

It's time to test your knowledge about women from the Middle Ages, as featured in our major new exhibition Medieval Women: In Their Own Words. There are no prizes for getting the answers, just the warm glow of knowing you can tell your Eleanors from your Margarets, and your Isabellas from your Margerys. We'll be setting more quizzes over the coming months, so thinking caps on!

The skull of a Barbary lion on display in the Medieval Women exhibition, kindly loaned by the Natural History Museum

 

1. Which medieval queen owned a pet lion?  Eleanor of Aquitaine/Isabella the She-Wolf/Margaret d'Anjou/Juana of Castile

2. The Trotula is named after which medical practitioner?  Trota of Salerno/Trota of Seville/Trota of Salamanca/Trota of Salisbury

3. Which medieval visionary was fond of hazelnuts?  Birgitta of Sweden/Julian of Norwich/Catherine of Siena/Hildegard of Bingen

4. Where would you wrap a birthing girdle?  Round your ankle/belly/wrist/neck

5. A letter written in 1429 bearing the first-known signature of which famous woman is on display in the UK for the very first time?  Margaret Paston/Margery Kempe/Eleanor Cobham, Duchess of Gloucester/Joan of Arc

 

We will post the answers @BLMedieval on Sunday, 3 November.

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.

 

Follow us @BLMedieval

 

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!

Witches using magic to cause a storm, from Ulrich Molitor, De lamiis et phitonicis mulieribus (On Witches and Female Soothsayers) (1495)

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.

A female medical practitioner performing cupping therapy on a man, Sloane MS 6

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”.

The pilgrim meets the personification of Sorcery, in John Lydgate, The Pilgrimage of Man: Cotton MS Tiberius A VII, f. 69r

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.

Burning of the Templars, from the Chroniques de France ou de St Denis, BL Royal MS 20 C vii, f. 48r

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.

A woman experiencing a spiritual vision, Yates Thompson MS 11, f. 29r

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.

A decorated initial with an armoured knight, perhaps Joan of Arc, from the Rehabilitation Trial of Joan of Arc: Stowe MS 84, f. 2r

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 Cobham and her husband Humfrey, Duke of Gloucester, from the St Albans Benefactors’ Book, Cotton MS Nero D VII, f. 154r

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.

Horoscope of Henry VI, Egerton MS 889, f. 5r

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.

Elizabeth Woodville from the Book of the Fraternity of the Assumption of Our Lady of the Skinners of London, The London Archives, CLC/L/SE/A/004A/MS31692

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.

Eleanor Jackson

Follow us @BLMedieval

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.

Calum Cockburn

Follow us @BLMedieval

Alongside our Medieval Women exhibition, we are delighted to announce a series of public events, featuring prominent speakers and focusing on themes connected with our show. The full listing can be found on our online events page.

On 29 October, Kate Mosse, novelist, playwright and campaigner, and author of Labyrinth and Warrior Queens & Quiet Revolutionaries, will pick her highlights from the voices and lives showcased in the exhibition, in Here and Now: Meet the Medieval Women. Kate will be joined by musician Kate Arnold in an exclusive live performance of medieval lyrics accompanied by the hammered dulcimer.

Then, on 8 November, the exhibition curators will join historian Helen Castor in conversation, giving insights into how the show was put together, in Medieval Women: the Curators' Lunchtime Lecture. 

On 11 November, we are delighted to welcome Hetta Howes, talking about her new book, Poet, Mystic, Widow, Wife, in conversation with Helen Carr, in The Extraordinary Lives of Medieval Women.

We have a panel discussion on 18 November, Medieval Get Ready With Me, when Anita Bhagwandas, Jill Burke and Amber Butchart will be exploring the history of cosmetics, fragrances and treatments.

Our final event that month is The Ordinary Lives of Medieval Women, on 28 November, when historical novelist Philippa Gregory will be joined in conversation by presenter and journalist Sangita Myska, telling the stories of the 'ordinary' medieval women who went to war, tilled the fields, wrote, loved, committed crimes, cooked, nursed and rioted. But not necessarily all at once.

Later in the year and into 2025, our speakers include Janina Ramirez and Lauren Groff, as well as theatrical and musical performances.

We hope you can join us either in person or online, and that you are able to visit our major exhibition, Medieval Women: In Their Own Words, at the British Library until 2 March 2025 (tickets can be booked in advance here).

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.

 

Follow us @BLMedieval

Fanfare, please! We are thrilled to say that the British Library's major new exhibition, Medieval Women: In Their Own Words, is now open to the public. The first ticket-holders are starting to go through the doors, and we hope thousands more will follow them in the coming months.

It's about time, we think, that medieval women took the spotlight. Margery Kempe (died in 1438) wrote the first autobiography in the English language. Her contemporary, Joan of Arc (burned in 1431), led armies to victory in a male-dominated world. Marta, an enslaved Russian woman, was sold in the marketplace in Venice in 1450. Shajar al-Durr (died in 1257) was the first woman to rule in Mamluk Egypt. Margery Brews wrote the first Valentine letter in 1477. Sibylle of Flanders (died in 1163) refused to return home with her husband from Jerusalem. Margaret of Anjou (died in 1482) owned a pet Barbary lion. Gwerful Mechain (lived in the late 1400s) wrote explicit poetry. Joan Astley asked Henry VI for a pay rise in 1423/4. Margaret, Maid of Norway (died in 1290), aged just seven, was to be betrothed to an English prince. Estellina Conat was the first woman to print a book in Hebrew, in 1474. Margaret Starre took part in the Peasants' Revolt in 1381. Joan of Beverley embroidered an altar band in the 14th century.

Our exhibition features an incredible range of manuscripts, documents and early printed books from the Library's collections, alongside some amazing loans from other institutions. Medieval Women is the culmination of many months' hard work behind the scenes, by colleagues in our Exhibitions, Loans, Conservation, Marketing, Press, Publishing, Events, Learning, Commercial and Visitor Services teams — not to mention the curators (Ellie, Julian, Calum) and our other colleagues. We hope you have the chance to visit our exhibition in person, to attend one of the events, or to buy the book. We like to think that the medieval women whose stories we tell would have been delighted to make your acquaintance.

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.

 

Follow us @BLMedieval