Qissa Reviews: Women in the Middle Ages

The Middle Ages ran from around 476 AD (the fall of the Roman Empire) and lasted for 1000 years. Not an insignificant chunk of time then, but one we’re perhaps not as familiar with as, say, the Ancient Greeks or the Industrial Revolution. Of course, I’m speaking from the UK here. Maybe other countries have a more robust historical education. But we can look to literature to fill the gap in our knowledge and Femina: A New History of the Middle Ages Through the Women Written Out of It by Janina Ramirez certainly takes up that mantle.

Also called the Medieval period or the ‘Dark Ages’, when we consider this time our minds may conjure up something primitive. As Ramirez notes, our conceptions of this time come from the historical writers that have come before us. But even from the preface Ramirez immediately disrupts these past assumptions:

‘The medieval world was fluid, cosmopolitan, mobile and outward-looking. Every major city would have been full of individuals of different skin colours, ages, backgrounds, religions and heritage.’

What follows is a fascinating exploration of the advancements and accomplishments of the medieval period, particularly looking at the ways in which women came to and held power across Europe. 

Starting not in the fifth century but instead in 1913, Ramirez opens the book with the story of Emily Wilding Davison. You are probably familiar with the story of this suffragette. At the Epsom Derby Davison runs into the way of the King’s horse and is knocked down and killed. But even this non-medieval opener has some fascinating facts. Did you know for example that the horse in question, Anmer, was exiled to Canada for his part in her death? Or that Davison’s funeral was the single biggest ceremony for a non-royal in British history, with twenty thousand people attending? Starting with her story might seem unrelated in a book about medieval women but Ramirez deftly proves this is not the case. I won't regurgitate her words here - you'll have to read it for yourself. 

What is so fantastic about Femina is that, while it does cover amazing women from this time period, it’s actually just a book about history. We hear about archaeological finds, the arrival of Christianity in England, illiteracy in medieval times (and how it meant they used their memory more actively) and more. It’s a fascinating introduction to the Middle Ages and it doesn't feel overly didactic or forceful when speaking of women's input during these times. It is so refreshing to have a book that just covers the main players in history - male and female and, on reading it, you realise how rare that is. Ramirez does note how her own background will of course prejudice the text; no book can be free from its author’s own biases but by acknowledging this we can consider how our own views of this time have been shaped by what we’ve read previously and those authors’ prejudices, intentional or otherwise. For example, Ramirez notes how Pre-Raphaelite and Victorian artists filtered their portrayals of medieval women through their own sensibilities:

‘They are cast as virgin, victim, mother, whore or hag, with the image of an unobtainable maiden trapped in a tower repeated ad nauseum.’

So, which women from the Middle Ages are we familiar with? Joan of Arc? Sure. Julian of Norwich? Heard of her. How about Queen Bertha of Kent? Maybe less so. The first chapter opens with the Loftus Princess - an aside here that, coincidentally, I grew up in Loftus, in the North East of England, so I am actually acquainted with this particular story! - a Saxon woman discovered in a burial site in the early 2000s. Dating from the seventh century, this site revealed an astonishing amount about life during that period. Discovered with three gold pendants, two glass beads, one wire bead and part of a jet hairpin, as well as being laid to rest on a bed, we can deduce that this woman was of great importance - most likely a Saxon princess. 

It is not just the Loftus Princess covered in this opening chapter however. We also learn about Queen Bertha of Kent and how she 'brought about change and a new way of life to the English kingdoms, one which slowly saw the rejection of a pantheon of Germanic gods and treasure-laden burials.' We hear how women aided the spread of Christianity across the country and were vital to its staying power. Religion is covered heavily throughout the book as it would have played an important role in most people’s day to day lives. For example, Queen Bertha’s great great niece Hild of Whitby helped embed Roman Christianity in the north and was granted land to build a double monastery - one that houses both men and women. It is noted that Hild wanted to travel to a monastery in Gaul (a region of Western Europe) and, again, it is interesting to learn that the medieval world had access to information about other countries and their practices and even travelled these distances themselves, rather than being very small and insular, as we might assume. 

Again subverting our preconceptions, these seventh century northern women reveal a time when noblewomen could bypass marriages and ‘instead form their own centres of learning where they could be rich, respected and remembered, with the same opportunities as the men around them. They could shape their future and those of their communities. This was a singularly positive time for women in the church and the Loftus Princess, Hild and Ælfflæd and others reaped the rewards of the new faith.’ Femina features many instances of women owning land, signing charters and even being King. It is reassuring to know that we are constantly in a state of flux and that all the stereotypes around men and women’s roles in society haven’t always existed. This is something that has cropped up multiple times in other books, such as when considering women’s literacy or women’s participation in sports. 

Each chapter in Femina starts with an archaeological or archival discovery highlighting how, even in the future, scientific development will help bring more women into the stories we tell. Chapter three tells the story of scientists in Stockholm in 2017 retesting Viking bones with new DNA technology and discovering that a skeleton they had assumed was male (due to the fact it was buried with weapons such as an axe and bow), was in fact female. Birka (the skeleton) made news around the world and caused a lot of uproar: people were perhaps not ready to imagine women as warriors. 

Femina covers much of Western Europe and also touches on Eastern Europe and the Middle East. It would have been interesting to compare other cultures during this time. For example, in the approximately one thousand years of the Middle Ages, China went through the Song and Ming dynasties, Japan began the Warring States period and over in South America, the local people built huge stone heads on Easter Island. Of course, I’m not saying that Ramirez should have covered all of this. That’s enough content for many books! But it’s interesting to consider how all these events took place simultaneously. Ramirez does make numerous references to the mobility and trade during the Middle Ages and how gems from India and silks from the Silk Road can be found across Europe during this time. 

Ramirez is very skilled at moving the reader between the past and present and creating a strong sense of place. One minute you’re in thirteenth century France with the Cathars and the next you’re discovering a lost book in someone’s dusty cupboard. She touches on everything from The Da Vinci Code to the Bayeux Tapestry and Pope John Paul II's obsession with canonising saints. Towards the end there is a particularly fascinating section on gender and sexuality in medieval times, brought to life by a court case in London. 

Moving from England to France to Germany, we meet many incredible women throughout the book. The chapter on Hildegard, a German visionary (as in literally had visions) was particularly interesting. She lived until 81 years old, twice the average age for the twelfth century. She had an incredible output during this time, writing books, plays and music. I particularly implore you to listen to some of her music, which is hauntingly beautiful. But as I draw your attention here to some of the figures mentioned in Femina, I run the same risk as Ramirez:

'One of the dangers of writing about truly exceptional individuals like Hildegard is that their extensive body of work can appear an anomaly - the output of a lone genius who existed outside of society.[...] But there are a cast of important, influential and exceptional women around her.'

While the book does highlight specific women, from Abbess Cynethryth to Æthelflæd, it is important to remember that these were not isolated individuals. They interacted with society, had male followers, laid down laws, advised and generally led full and complex lives. Femina helps to rewrite history and give us a fuller picture of society as a whole during the medieval period. 

Of course, many women have unfortunately been erased from the history books and may be lost to us forever. The title of the book relates to the Reformation, when libraries were scoured for texts that were inappropriate (similar to what is happening in America at the moment) and lists of books were marked as to whether they should be destroyed or not. Those marked with 'Femina' showed that they were written by a woman, so were less worthy of preservation. Thankfully, with Ramirez’ book, we are finally seeing just how worthy these women were.