The Image of the Female Healer in WesternVernacular Literature of the Middle Ages

April Harper*

Summary. This article examines the image of the female healer in a variety of western medievalsecular literary texts. Whilst many depictions of the female healer corroborate the findings ofrecent studies of women’s medical practice, the occasional divergences shed light on changes in cul-tural, religious and societal values. An advantage to viewing female healers in a literary context is theability it affords the reader to observe her in her total context—as a physician, but also as a wife, poss-ibly a mother, a queen or a member of a village. In each of these situations, a woman’s healing isdepicted as an innate quality of her femininity. The work of the female healer is at once naturaland aberrant. Her literary image serves not only to elucidate those qualities, but also shows howthe balance and value of them shift in response to changing social, economic and religiousparadigms.

Keywords: Literature; medieval; female healers; magic; learning

Literature has long been a medium through which a society articulates its values, and indi-vidual authors voice their ambitions, fears and criticisms. However, for the historian usingliterature to develop social constructs, a variety of pitfalls await. Assuming literature to bean accurate reflection of society has occasionally led to what Penelope Johnson hasdescribed as ‘a commendable effort, but a technique which backfires because ofinadequate historical evidence’.1 We must acknowledge that literature is a vehicle fortransmission of ideas and ideals and not a mirror, perfectly reflecting the society fromwhich it emanates.2 But should we, as historians, abandon the use of literature in ouranalysis of the past? Are the pitfalls so extreme that we should relegate our use of litera-ture to pithy illustrations or entertaining examples within more ‘historically’ based argu-ments? Efforts to analyse the representations of women, kings, knighthood, nuns andeven the law in medieval literature have met with a variety of success and a certaintyof controversy.3 Indeed, the traps and complexities of using literature within historicalarguments have deterred many from using literary sources in any depth within theirwork. However, for both the social historian in general and for the social historian ofmedicine specifically, there can be few better tools to help us answer questions regardingthe public perception of the craft, its practitioners and the changes within medicine,especially in reference to the female healer.4

*232 Netzer Administration Building, State University of New York, College at Oneonta, Ravine Parkway, SUNYOneonta, Oneonta, NY 13820, USA. Email: Harpera@oneonta.edu

© The Author 2011. Published by Oxford University Press on behalf of the Society for the Social History of Medicine.All rights reserved. doi:10.1093/shm/hkq111

1Johnson 1988, p. 388.2For comparison, see Kaeuper 2007.

3See Johnson 1988; Daichman 1986; Bloch, 1977. Forcontrast, see Burgwinkle 2004.

4Mulvey Roberts and Porter (eds) 1993; Porter 1985.

Social History of Medicine Vol. 24, No. 1 pp. 108–124

at Universidade Federal de SÃ

£o João del R

ei on January 28, 2014http://shm

.oxfordjournals.org/D

ownloaded from

Women and Medicine‘Women’s health was women’s business’; the accuracy of this assumption is at theheart of Monica Green’s groundbreaking article, ‘Women’s Medical Practice andHealth Care in Medieval Europe’, in which she explores two fundamental questionsabout women’s health and health care in the Middle Ages: namely, who cared forwomen and what kind of medicine did women practise.5 She challenges the long-heldview that ‘the history of women’s health care can be considered coextensive with ahistory of women medical practitioners’.6 Collecting data from several key prosopogra-phical studies of physicians in France, England and Italy, Green shows the majority offemale practitioners were not midwives. In fact, over two-thirds of women medicalpractitioners were listed as barbers, surgeons, physicians, leeches, apothecaries,empirics and even sorceresses.7 Debra Stoudt similarly argues against the traditionalview that female healers were almost entirely untrained folk-healers and midwives.The twelfth-century German legal records she examined reveal many women practisingmedicine, most of whom practised surgery, and specifically battlefield surgery. In herstudy are examples of a female practitioner in Frankfurt who healed mercenaries oftheir extensive battle wounds, and that of two other women who were locallyfamous for their surgical skills and wound draughts used in treating wounded soldiers.8

Several German medical compilations also refer to the work and expertise of women.The most striking example of such is Count Palatine Ludwig V’s twelve-volume book ofmedicine written in Heidelberg in 1502, which includes over 1,300 recipes attributed tofemale physicians.9

The diversity of female medical practice proven in these studies is reflected in theliterature of the period.10 One of the first literary references to female physicians inwestern Europe comes from Tacitus (c. 56–117 CE), who remarked that Germanwomen treated the wounds of men and ‘did not shrink away from counting and com-paring the gashes’.11 Whilst caring for illnesses and injury among family and friendswas a customary duty of women in many cultures, Tacitus’ special mention of thisgroup of women who accompanied the soldiers and possessed specialised skills forhealing battle-related wounds implies that some of those women may have beenacting as professional healers. Thus the role of women as healers in Germanicsociety had ancient roots underlying medieval practice. The image of the Germanicand Scandinavian female healer in the early and high Middle Ages reveals women’smedical skills to be frequently linked with ritual and the implications of magic.The lack of strict division between magic and medicine was echoed in the namesgiven to the female healer: ‘saga’ [wise woman], ‘sage femme’ [wise woman] and ‘bel-ladonna’ [good woman].12

5Green 1989, p. 434.6Green 1989, p. 436.7Green 1989, pp. 441–3.8Stoudt in Furst (ed.) 1997, pp. 14–15. Also Wiesner1986, pp. 94–113.

9Stoudt in Furst (ed.) 1997, p. 15; Keil in Ruh (ed.)1991.

10Although it is impossible to cover all vernacular textsof the Middle Ages in the confines of an article, the

literary texts chosen for this study were amongstthe most popular of the period, as evidenced in anumber of extant manuscripts throughout Europeand, in many cases, their widely translated andreworked state throughout the Middle Ages.

11Tacitus 1877, pp. 87ff.12See Lemay in Kirshner and Wemple (eds) 1985;Talbot and Hammond 1965, p. 211. Monica Greennotes the use of the term ‘old woman’ or ‘wise

Female Healers in Middle Ages Western Vernacular Literature 109

at Universidade Federal de SÃ

£o João del R

ei on January 28, 2014http://shm

.oxfordjournals.org/D

ownloaded from

Icelandic sagas of the twelfth and thirteenth centuries frequently mention womenhealing warriors with skill and magic. Gríma the Greenlander from Fóstbræðra sagaand Heiðr, from Biarmiland in Haralds saga hárfagra are described as ‘leeches’ andFiuríðr ‘the wise’ healed the injuries of two men wounded in hólmganga, the Norseform of the duel.13 The laying-on of hands combined with runic magic is mentioned inSigrdrífumál and was also practised as a form of diagnosis in which a man’s mother orfoster mother would touch her son all over before a battle to determine what woundshe would receive.14

Most examples of healing illustrate women performing surgery and other medical carewithout magic, but amulets and curing stones were occasionally part of the practice of thehealer and specifically, the female healer. The literature depicts their use most commonlyas ‘stones of life’, which staunch bleeding and have curious, non-medical uses such asmaking the holder invisible or granting his wishes.15 Many of the texts which describethe use of such magic were written in the twelfth and thirteenth centuries, during andafter the Christianisation of Scandinavia. However, topics and people presented in theworks were commonly set in the past or covered a large amount of time, encompassingyears or even centuries. When analysing the image of magical healing in these texts, itwould be a mistake to see the use of magic in healing as a vestige of the past. Althoughcountries such as Iceland were often converted by their kings virtually overnight, oftenmeasures were taken to preserve or tolerate the pagan religions.16 These texts are nodoubt recreating images of female healing in the past, but most likely, were also com-menting on a degree of contemporary practice. An example is found in the descriptionsof runic healing in the eleventh-century poem in which a female healer/seer has beencalled upon to perform a seidr for healing:

Ogre of wound-fever,Lord of the ogres,Flee now!You have been discovered.Have for yourself three pangs, wolf.Have for yourself nine needs, wolf.Three ice runes.These ice runes will grant that you be satisfied, wolf.Make good use of the healing-charms!17

However, in the wrong hands, such magic could go terribly wrong, as witnessed by EgilSkalagrimsson in his Saga. The runes which were carved into a whale bone to facilitate theseduction of a reluctant girl instead make her deathly ill:

Those who carve without knowledgeShould not write the runes[ for] Great misfortune will followWhen the secrets are misused

woman’ should not be understood as ‘midwife’ butas a general term for ‘healer’. Green 1987, p. 43,note 8.

13Ellis-Davidson in Newall (ed.) 1973, p. 40, notes 20and 55. See also Steffensen 1967–8, p. 188.

14Ellis-Davidson in Newall (ed.) 1973, p. 27.

15Meaney 1981, p. 102.16For vestiges of paganism in Scandinavian culture andmediation between pagan and Christian parties inIceland, see Schön 2004, pp. 170–3.

17MacLeod and Mees 2006, p. 118.

110 April Harper

at Universidade Federal de SÃ

£o João del R

ei on January 28, 2014http://shm

.oxfordjournals.org/D

ownloaded from

I have seen ten letters carvedOut of a bent boneThey brought on the painThat tortured the young girl.18

Egil illustrates that not only were the runes carved in ignorance of their power, but poss-ibly with dark magic as they were forcing the girl to act against her will, which damagedher health.19

The use of magic became more suspect, although still practised in popular medicineand society through the thirteenth century. Evidence of this is shown in the Icelandiccivil and religious law code, the Grágás, which states: ‘People are not to do things withstones or fill them with magic power with the idea of tying them on people or on live-stock. If people put trust in stones to ensure their own health or that of cattle, thepenalty is “lesser outlawry”’.20 While institutions of power became less tolerant, theuse of the term ‘magic’ or the use of magical objects did not necessarily carry pejorativeconnotations for medieval people. In Malcolm Cameron’s work on Anglo-Saxon medi-cine, he notes the use of prayers, charms and chants in preparing medicine.21 For med-ieval people, a prayer, a charm, or an object all served multiple purposes and thedifference between a miracle and magic was often blurred or perhaps inconsequentialto the patient who was healed.22

Before the regulatory efforts by the Church and the Faculty of Paris in the thirteenthcentury, medicine enjoyed a somewhat independent realm of authority. This lack of regu-lation and the ever-present ‘pre-Christian’ aspects of some forms of medicine had becomeconcerns for the Church. From a secular standpoint, the independent female healer chal-lenged the power of the universities and the growing professionalism of the male medicalpractitioners. From a religious point of view, she likewise presented a challenge in thelong-standing connections between women, healing and religion in pagan societies,and the newer threats of heresy that defied Church authority, such as Catharism, inwhich women played a large part and medical/religious rituals such as the laying-on ofhands were commonplace.23

The vagaries of women’s medical practice were made even more difficult to definewithin the growing Christian philosophical and scientific circles of the high MiddleAges. The focus of discourse in the philosophies of Anselm, Aquinas and otherscentred on the source and logical/scientific rationale behind phenomena. This approachhad a profound impact upon the image of the female healer. Emphasis in theologicalwritings was placed on topics such as the nature of God and miracles. Miracles werecategorised as either contra naturam or praeter naturam. For whilst the learned manunderstands the miracle of healing, through close study, as a representation ofGod’s abilities, the ignorant man or woman misconstrues something as miraculous/

18Sturluson 1976, ch. 35.19Higley 1994. The damage caused by female healers’aberrant use of magic is a common theme through-out the Middle Ages. See the fabliau Auberee.

20Grágás 1980, paragraph 7.

21Invocations served a dual purpose of imbuing themedication with a power but also acted as a timingdevice in preparation of pharmacopeia.

22Cameron 2006; Weston 1995; Meaney 1981.23See Hancke in Brenant and Dieulafait (eds) 2005;Barber 2000; Grundmann 1995; Moore 1994. Forcontrast, see Fichtenau 2000 and Hanssler 1997.

Female Healers in Middle Ages Western Vernacular Literature 111

at Universidade Federal de SÃ

£o João del R

ei on January 28, 2014http://shm

.oxfordjournals.org/D

ownloaded from

magic which the learned man would understand as natural. This kind of exploration ofpower and the definition of what was ‘natural’ also called into question those whoworked with nature and the body, and thus the ‘wise woman’ fell under harsh scrutinyfor the source of her healing abilities. The literature of the period reflected this philos-ophy. When analysing the changes in the depiction of medical care within the literatureof the twelfth century onwards, it seems to have become necessary to show that theskills and tools of a physician excluded ‘magic’. Thus a greater emphasis in the holinessof especially the female healer and a clear discussion of her power source wasneeded.24

Miracles, Magic and MedicineThis conflation of images of women as both good and bad, Christian and demonic, helperand curse is as much about the image of women in general in the Middle Ages as aboutfemale healers. And, as with the Ave/Eva split in the images of holy women and queens,we see a definite division in the image of the female healer in the literature of the highand late Middle Ages.25

In their work exploring the relationship between miracles and magic within medicine,both Peter Dinzelbacher and Richard Kieckhefer independently note a division of femalehealers into a good/bad dichotomy in relationship to their supernatural ability. Both theholy and the demonic engage in a kind of ‘magic’, both depend on a secret or specialisedknowledge, and both yield impossible or at least remarkable results. The appearance,methods and results of holy cures and unholy magic are remarkably similar, as are thewomen who practise these seemingly divergent methods of healing. A surprising fluidityexists between images of female sanctity and female heresy or witchcraft; some women,including the extreme example of Joan of Arc, who were suspected of witchcraft, werelater recognised as saints. Conversely, some holy women were later exposed asnothing more than impostors, or worse, witches.26 Even more confusing is the practiceof a small number of women in medieval life and literature who seemed to alternatebetween these spiritual states.27 As Kieckhefer notes, magic was not ‘limited to anyspecific group’, but rather saints, wise women and physicians shared ‘a commonmagical tradition’.28 What separates the two identities of healer and witch is not theirability to heal or the means by which they did so, but the source of the power theydrew upon to enact their healings.29

This dichotomy is obvious in literary works from the twelfth and thirteenth centuries, asis a growing discomfort with and intolerance towards those who would cross the increas-ingly rigid lines between holy and demonic powers of healing. An excellent case study isthe romance of Tristan.30 The earliest extant form of the romance, Béroul’s Tristan, draws

24Bynum 1988. Thanks to Sumi David for sharing herexpertise and sources on the subject.

25Nelson in Baker (ed.) 1978, pp. 31–77; Crawford2007.

26An excellent example is Guglielma of Brunate who isstill locally venerated, but whose links with heresydeny her canonisation.

27Herzig 2006; Bynum 1988, pp. 22–4.

28Kieckhefer 1990, p. 57. Kieckhefer’s argument iscontroversial. For a different approach to the connec-tion between holiness and witchcraft, see Klaniczay1990–1.

29Dinzelbacher 1995; Kieckhefer 1994.30First mention of the tale is in the eleventh-centuryWelsh Triads—although recent scholarship argues along oral tradition going back to 780. Schoepperle1913, pp. 283–7; Bromwich (ed.) 1961, p. 329.

112 April Harper

at Universidade Federal de SÃ

£o João del R

ei on January 28, 2014http://shm

.oxfordjournals.org/D

ownloaded from

heavily on Celtic themes and narratives styles, exhibiting a world in which monsters,fairies, magic and Christian figures intertwine without conflict. Although written in thetwelfth century, Béroul’s work is representative of the early Arthurian legends, such asCulhwch ac Olwen and the Mabinogion, in transgressing borders between the holyand unholy, as well as between supernatural power and educated skill.31

Although written almost contemporaneously, the Arthurian romances differ from thesagas in their representation of healing andmagical power.Whilst the sagas often exhibitedthe power of words, spells, charms and divining inmedicine, the foci of healing power in theromances is often through ‘wondrous herbs and unguents… potions… and artefacts withmarvellous, mechanical properties’.32 Although the materials still possess ‘wondrous’ and‘marvellous’ properties, the emphasis placed upon their use shifted from the mystical tothe medical. While the manuscript of Béroul’s Tristan has been terribly damaged andmuch of the opening chapter has been lost, the text frequently makes mention of powerfulpotions brewed by women, and Tristan’s lover, Iseult, is mentioned as the healer of hiswounds.

Within Béroul’s Tristan, all female characters practise some form of medicine withoutdiscussion of source or training, but also without detail of the medical treatment givenwhich, in light of the detailed descriptions of treatment given in texts which precededBéroul’s work and those which followed it, seems to be an anomaly. The explanationmight be in the missing portion of the work. Upon analysis of later manuscripts whichderived from this version of the story, complex images of healing are found that illustrateboth skill and a holy power source in the will of God. However, such an assumption wouldargue for an unchanging image of the female healer within the textual cycle, which evi-dence from other versions and later texts discredits. An alternative, though undoubtedlycontroversial understanding of the image may be that Béroul’s Tristan is a transition piecein the image of the female healer. Rather than engage in the debate over power sourceand nature of healing as miraculous/magical, the author merely relied on women’s time-honoured position as providers and healers to facilitate the story.

The next major work devoted to the Tristan story is likewise named after its author,Thomas.33 Within Thomas’ Tristan (c. 1170), both Iseult and her mother, the Queen ofIreland, have superb healing powers. The Irish queen is an accomplished apothecary.She not only brews the deadly poison with which she tips her brother’s sword, but alsomakes a powerful love potion for her daughter. The example of this queen illustratesthe difficulty of diametrically classifying medical skills, and the difficulty that not onlythe audience but a patient might have in understanding the nature of healing. Themalice of her first concoction stands in opposition to the love that prompts her to brewthe second potion to aid her daughter in making the best of a loveless marriage. Thequeen is also a renowned healer who is able to cure Tristan of his wounds, which noother physician in England was able to heal. Thomas’ version, written in the secondhalf of the twelfth century, contains no discussion of the source of the queen’s powerand no qualifying statements or judgements on her actions.

31Although the extant manuscripts date to the thir-teenth century, linguistically, the works may date to1000–60. Blakeslee 1985.

32Kieckhefer 1990, p. 106; Watkins 2008.33Lacy (ed.) 1998.

Female Healers in Middle Ages Western Vernacular Literature 113

at Universidade Federal de SÃ

£o João del R

ei on January 28, 2014http://shm

.oxfordjournals.org/D

ownloaded from

However, by the thirteenth century, a dramatic change occurs in the depiction of thefemale healer. In the prose Romance of Tristan (c. 1240), a clear division is madebetween the healing techniques of women healers and the sources of their power.34

The first woman to use medical arts in the romance is the stepmother of Tristan.Worried that Tristan will not allow her child to inherit its father’s title and lands, the step-mother sets out to murder the young Tristan. The narrator comments on the queen’sexceptional ability to brew a poison that was ‘so well prepared and so clear’ that itcould be mistaken for cool water. However, her attempt to kill her stepson goes horriblywrong when a young maid unknowingly gives the poison to the queen’s infant son. Whileinvestigating the baby’s death, it is concluded that since poison was involved, ‘either alady or a maiden committed this treachery’.35

The connection between a woman and poison seems obvious to the characters, andperhaps even the audience. The misuse of herbal knowledge is the crime of a woman.The woman is then vilified by the narrator as ungodly, standing in stark contrast to thenext example of a female healer in the text: the young princess Iseult. After fleeing hisfather’s murderous household, Tristan comes to serve in his uncle’s realm. Acting as hisuncle’s court champion, Tristan is injured in a battle with the Irish champion, theMorholt. Although he defeats the Irish knight, Tristan is cut by the man’s lance whichhas been tipped with a deadly poison brewed by the knight’s sister. Tristan’s woundcannot be healed and he is shunned by the court on account of the stench of theputrid flesh. Trusting his life to God’s direction, Tristan sets sail and arrives in Ireland,where he is cared for by the Princess Iseult. The description of the princess, her skill,the source of her power and her healing methods stand in stark contrast to thedevious, treacherous and ungodly medicine of Tristan’s stepmother. Iseult is praised asa healer ‘who has more experience in such matters than any man or woman… andwill attend to it for the love of God and for pity’s sake’.36 The description of her careemphasises knowledge and the divine source of her powers:

She examined his wound and applied such herbs as she thought would be beneficialto him… she was sure she would soon have him hale and hearty with God’s help…

Tristan was in the room for ten days, and each day the young girl took care of himand dressed his wound as she saw fit… she took another look at the wound andafter she had examined it closely… she had Tristan carried out into the sun sothat she could see more clearly and she said to him, ‘Now I understand what pre-vented you from recovering for so long. The lance-head which wounded you waspoisoned. All those who tried to heal you were deceived, since they failed tonotice the poison. Now that by the grace of God I’ve seen it, rest assured that I’llhelp you with His help.’ Tristan was extremely pleased to hear this, and said thathe hoped God would grant her the power. The young girl sought and procuredwhat she felt would be the most effective for drawing out the poison. And whenshe had extracted it, she did her best to bring him back to health.37

34Curtis (ed.) 1994.35Curtis (ed.) 1994, p. 12. Women’s connection topoison is a common theme in medical writings.SeeRoig 1988.

36Curtis (ed.) 1994, p. 43.37Curtis (ed.) 1994, pp. 43–5.

114 April Harper

at Universidade Federal de SÃ

£o João del R

ei on January 28, 2014http://shm

.oxfordjournals.org/D

ownloaded from

The account of Iseult’s treatment of Tristan illustrates her skilled use of observation, diag-nosis, treatment and dressing, but perhaps even more importantly, constantly reinforcesthat the source of her power and success is holy.

The German reworking of the story in the mid-thirteenth century by Gottfried vonStrassburg likewise draws attention to the distinction between sources of medicalpower, and its importance in the construction of the image of the female healer.38 Inthe German version it is Iseult’s mother who is credited with Tristan’s poisoning and hiscure, thus exemplifying the dual nature of medicine and of the theriac sheemploys, which can cure or kill. The narrator is quick to reveal that her skills are notmagical, but come from ‘medical knowledge’.39 This statement provides a vital clue intracking the changing image of the female healer, for by the fourteenth century, the div-ision is no longer just between sources of power, but between learned and unlearnedpractice.

An excellent example is found within Boccaccio’s Decameron III:9, wherein Gilette, thedaughter of a physician, treats the King of France. Though the king is sceptical of her abil-ities, she declares:

‘Sire,’ said the girl, ‘you are sceptical of my powers because I am young and because Iam a woman; but I would have you know that my powers of healing do not dependso much upon my knowledge as upon the assistance of God and the expertise of mylate father, Master Gerard of Narbonne, who in his day was a famous physician’.40

Gilette openly acknowledges that she does not have ‘knowledge’. Her skill is derived fromexperience and ‘expertise’ of her father, placing her as an empiric, rather than auniversity-educated and licensed physician. She places the value of this experience onthe same level as the ‘assistance of God’— both of which rank higher than the philoso-phical training of the physician. Whilst it is difficult to know whether to interpret this as ahumorous slight against self-assured female empirics, or as Boccaccio’s support for them,it is clear from the writings of contemporary licensed physicians and surgeons that thislack of ‘knowledge’ and dependence upon God and experience was exactly whatmade the female healer not the capable saviour of men, as depicted in literature, but adanger to all. For example, in his La Grande Chirurgie, Guy de Chauliac (1300–68) testifiesto the practice of many healers who have no formal training and worst among these arewomen surgeons ‘who simply invoke God and the saints’.41

The Educated Female PhysicianA progression in the image of the female physician similar to that illustrated in the Tristancycle is found in the late twelfth-century Arthurian romances of Chrétien de Troyes.Although the female healer is common in these tales, the source of her power remainsa divisive issue in constructing her image. Chrétien makes extremely few references toeither witchcraft or godly intervention in the medical treatment of his heroes. However,there are important Christian overtones in the glimpses he provides of women caringfor the injured and ill. For example, in the romance of Erec et Enide we are told that

38Gottfried von Strassburg 1978.39Gottfried von Strassburg 1978, line 6954.

40Boccaccio 1972, p. 245.41Guy de Chauliac 1997.

Female Healers in Middle Ages Western Vernacular Literature 115

at Universidade Federal de SÃ

£o João del R

ei on January 28, 2014http://shm

.oxfordjournals.org/D

ownloaded from

Enide arms Erec ‘using neither spell nor charm in doing so’.42 The inclusion of such a state-ment by the author appears to be an important distinction that sets the ministrations ofEnide in opposition to women of the sagas and early Arthurian tradition.

Chrétien also appeals to an educated form of healing when he describes Enide’s care ofErec after he is wounded in battle. She gives him invalid’s food and drink: ‘wine mixedwith water; for unmixed it is too strong and heating’.43 The implication of this passageis a learned form of treatment in accordance with humoral theory. Enide’s immediatecare makes it possible for Erec to journey to his friend Guivret’s castle to receivemedical attention from his fellow knight’s sisters. On three occasions, Chrétien notesthe sisters are maidens. They live in isolation, beauty and tranquillity. The likeness ofthe sister’s enclosure to that of a convent is clear, and their practice is clearly devoid ofmagic or any demonic taint; rather, they exhibit a highly professional level of care:

Guivret escorted Erec to a delightful, airy room in a remote part of the castle. Hissisters exerted themselves to cure Erec and Erec placed himself in their hands, forthey inspired him with perfect confidence. First, they removed the dead flesh, thenapplied plaster and lint, devoting to his care all their skill, like women who knewtheir business well. Again and again they washed his wounds and applied theplaster. Four times or more each day they made him eat and drink, allowing him,however, no garlic or pepper… Then to bring his colour back, they began to givehim baths. There was no need to instruct the damsels, for they understood the treat-ment well.44

The treatment, in its removal of dead flesh and use of lint to dress the wound, is similar tothat advocated in the Surgery of Roger Frugardi (Roger of Salerno) c. 1170.45 However,the daily washing of the wound and reapplication of the bandage proves to be morecurious, as it places this seemingly dry wound treatment in the midst of the wounddebate of the thirteenth century. For over 1,000 years, most physicians and surgeonsheld to the teachings of Galen (130–200 CE), which encouraged the bringing forth of‘laudable’ pus in the treatment of wounds. By the thirteenth century, surgeons includingHugh de Lucca, Theodoric Borgognoni of Cervia and Henri de Mondeville, advocated a‘dry’ wound treatment in which wounds were washed, sometimes with wine, and ban-daged without the added irritants and corrosives to encourage pus. Far from being ‘laud-able’, pus was viewed as a negative result of injury and contrary to healing.46 This debateraged throughout the thirteenth century, making Chrétien’s work all the more note-worthy. For how do we understand the presence of what appears to be a case of drywound treatment in a mid-twelfth-century literary text?47 Although such detail couldcall into question the dating of the piece, the historical evidence within and surroundingthe work firmly points to the twelfth century.

Many other writers of this period, as illustrated in the Tristan romances, simply omitteddetail in healing treatments; in fact, there was little precedent for detailed medical

42Chrétien de Troyes 1970, lines 691–746.43Chrétien de Troyes 1970, lines 5169–72.44Chrétien de Troyes 1970, lines 5183–215.45Hunt (ed.) 1994, vol. 1, p. 46

46For dry wound treatment, see Theodoric 1960, vol.1, pp. 137–9.

47Macdougall 2000, p. 254.

116 April Harper

at Universidade Federal de SÃ

£o João del R

ei on January 28, 2014http://shm

.oxfordjournals.org/D

ownloaded from

descriptions in secular texts. Inclusion of such detail seems more in line with Chrétien’stendency to assert his wide-ranging knowledge than as a literary trope. For example, inother works he uses his characters to espouse advice on topics such as theologicaldebate and secular law with accuracy and expertise.48 As court poet to Marie de Cham-pagne, Chrétien would presumably have access to court physicians or would have beenpart of an intellectual community including medical practitioners. Do we then understandthis to be evidence of an earlier beginning to the wound debate than medical textsindicate?49

Equally puzzling is the herbal element to the sisters’ healing, for they deny the knightsgarlic and pepper. Garlic had long been known as an all-purpose theriac. Both garlic andpepper had humoral warming properties that would often be used in wound treatment.The denial of such standard treatment might, upon first consideration, be viewed as evi-dence of Chrétien’s lack of medical knowledge.50 However, it is far more likely that suchtreatment may have communicated to the audience the severity of Erec’s wounds.Perhaps Erec was so badly injured that a quick heating of his body through use ofpepper and garlic would produce a radical change in his humours which could haveproved traumatic or even fatal. This understanding of the passage seems to be most con-gruent with a similar passage later in the text in which Erec’s wife Enide’s cares for him inthe forest after he is attacked by a band of knights. Erec is badly injured and suffers greatblood loss in the battle. In her delicate care of her husband, Enide waters down his wine, ahumoral agent with warming properties, in accordance with the severity of his wounds.

The virginal state and cloistered lifestyle of the sisters evoke the image of the nun, butthe reference may be even more pointed. The treatment also bears a close resemblance tothe humoral and healing techniques found within the writings of the abbess and philoso-pher, Hildegard of Bingen. Hildegard’s medical works, the Physica and the Causae etCurae, written between 1150 and 1160, demonstrate not only her particular understand-ing of Galenic humoral theory, but also contain detailed discussion of diagnosis, regimenand medical treatment to restore the balance of humours.51 Chrétien wrote Erec et Enideonly ten years after Hildegard’s medical works were completed. His works are the first todeviate from casting the wife or a mother-figure of the hero as his healer and to cast‘cloistered’ virgins in this role instead. Although it is impossible to state with any certaintythat Chrétien was evoking the image of Hildegard and her expertise, the timing of thisshift in the literature does seem significant, even without any reference to a contemporaryhealer. The image of learned female religious figures implies not only a virtuous vessel anda holy source of the healing, but it also places the healing within the education and skillsof an educated person and more precisely, a woman whose authority, power and practicewas sanctioned by the Church.52

The increasing formalisation of medical education in the twelfth century and descrip-tions of detailed medical treatment are found in a variety of other romances and lais,such as the late twelfth/early thirteenth-century Aucassin et Nicolete. In this poem, theprotagonist falls from his horse, dislocating his shoulder. Nicolete diagnoses the

48Chrétien de Troyes 1981, lines 4795–5006.49Theodoric 1960, vol. 1, pp. 137–9.50Jacquart 1990.

51Hildegard 2008 and 1990.52For Augustinian approaches to wonder, marvels andmiracles, see Bynum 1997.

Female Healers in Middle Ages Western Vernacular Literature 117

at Universidade Federal de SÃ

£o João del R

ei on January 28, 2014http://shm

.oxfordjournals.org/D

ownloaded from

problem through palpation and manipulation of the joint and puts the shoulder back intoplace manually. She then anoints the shoulder with herbs and trusses it in place with thehem of her chemise.53

In her twelfth century lai, Les Deuz Amanz, Marie de France continues this trend towardthe professional with the inclusion, not of an educated heroine or a nun, but of an actualfemale physician trained at Salerno. The female lover urges the hero to seek a femalephysician:

I have kindred in Salerno, of rich estate. For more than thirty years my aunt hasstudied there the art of medicine, and knows the secret gift of every root andherb. If you hasten to her, bearing letters from me, and show her your adventure,certainly she will find counsel and cure. Doubt not that she will discover somecunning simple, that will strengthen your body, as well as comfort your heart.54

In a similar vein, the character of Morgan, who appears in a wide variety of Arthurianworks, is first encountered in tenth- and eleventh-century texts as a shadowy fairy/pagan goddess figure who is just as capable of murder as she is of healing with herherbal knowledge and magical powers. A maker of wondrous bandages and ointmentsthat cure even the gravest of injuries, Morgan’s ministrations are often sexuallycharged and associated with dark magic. She is often as deadly as she is helpful. In con-trast, by the early twelfth century, Morgan is cast, not as a vengeful fairy or a magicalmedic, but as a ‘great healer’ and is entrusted with the mortally wounded Arthur.55

However, in the early fifteenth-century Mort d’Arthure, the discomfort with the ‘pagan’elements of her character and healing and perhaps her role as an uneducated healerwere unpopular enough to warrant her complete dismissal from the role of physician.56

When Arthur is injured in this version of the tale, a surgeon from Salerno was called toheal the king.57

The Diminishing Presence of the Female HealerAlthough emphasising her godly source of power and skill made the female healer of lit-erature more acceptable, from the fourteenth century onwards, a subtle decrease in thepresence of female healers across all genres of literature becomes apparent. This con-tinues into the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries to the almost total exclusion of thesecharacters. The exclusion or limitation of female practitioners in literature echoed devel-opments in medicine itself from the twelfth century onwards. The rise of the universitiesand subsequent licensing of physicians excluded women, who were barred from study atthe universities and thus from legally practising within the field as medicine changed froma skill to a profession. The guidelines in the Rules of the Medical Faculty of Paris, 1270–4,required those seeking licensing in medicine to attend courses for five and a half to sixyears, in order to guarantee proper medical knowledge so as to reduce the number ofcharlatans, and indeed the competition.58 More restrictions were passed against Jews,

53Bourdillon (ed.) Aucassin et Nicolete 1970, sec. 26,lines 10–14.

54Marie de France 1986, lines 120–42.55Lacy 1993, vol. 5.

56Malory 2004.57The sex of the surgeon is not mentioned.58Denifle (ed.) Chartularium Universitatis Parisiensis1891–9, vol. 1, pp. 488–90.

118 April Harper

at Universidade Federal de SÃ

£o João del R

ei on January 28, 2014http://shm

.oxfordjournals.org/D

ownloaded from

pharmacists and surgeons in 1271 and against illicit practice of medicine in general in1352.59 These likewise limited the ability of women to practise medicine by restrictingthe kinds of medicine and treatment they could perform. The terminology of these restric-tions grouped all female healers together with ‘old wives, monks, rustics, herbalists andstudents not yet trained… or coming from foreign parts… ignorant of the science ofmedicine’.60

Although the emphasis seems to be on separating those practitioners who heal fromthose who could harm, the real effect of these regulations in excluding women is appar-ent in the trials of female physicians, such as Jacqueline Felicie.61 In 1322, she wasbrought to court on charges of practising medicine without a licence.62 Though Jacque-line’s defence brought forth many witnesses with compelling testimony of her excellentskills, and her methods of diagnosis and treatment were indicative of skilled training,the Masters of Medicine declared her still to be guilty of violating the law. Jacqueline pro-tested that the law specifically mentioned amateurs and quacks, neither of which cat-egory applied to her, as illustrated in the review of her skills. Regardless, the mastersdetermined that the philosophy and science of medicine could not be learned throughexperience, and that Jacqueline’s practice constituted a threat to the lives of her patients.No doubt the competition empirics such as Felicie offered to the licensed physicians ofParis also played a part in their decision. The court went on to sentence three otherfemale practitioners alongside Felicie and would later use the case as precedent againstother female practitioners such as Peretta Peronne in 1411.63 Peronne was broughtbefore the court by the surgeons’ confraternity of St Cosmas and St Damien. Similarly,it was not only the gender of Peronne that presented a challenge to the surgeons, buther role as their competitor. Her trial transcripts specifically mention that she wasbrought forward due to her insistence to advertise herself publicly as a surgeon, evenplacing a sign to the effect outside her door. Peronne was forbidden to practisesurgery and her medical books were brought to the faculty for inspection. Althoughshe asserted she was a skilled and a proven practitioner, Peronne was found to be unedu-cated in her surgery and her herbal knowledge.64 The importance of learned medicineand understanding of textual sources was upheld in her conviction.

The emphasis upon text-based education and university training was not only theconcern of the faculty of Paris. The Chancellor of the Faculty of Medicine at Montpellier,Laurent Joubert, spoke openly in opposition to the use of empiric observation over text-based logic. He especially targeted:

ignorant women who know not even to read or write… and know nothing at allabout medicine, as to discourse and reason… a doctor, considering the nature ofan illness and the forces of the patient will prescribe the quality of the nourishmentbetter than the most knowledgeable (or rather) the most vain and presumptuouswoman in the world.65

59Denifle (ed.) Chartularium Universitatis Parisiensis1891–9, vol. 1, pp. 516–18.

60Denifle (ed.) Chartularium Universitatis Parisiensis1891–9, vol. 4, pp. 406–7. See Levin in Levin et al.(eds) 2000; Brooke 1995.

61See Green 2007.62Amt 1993, pp. 108–12.63Broomhall 2004, pp. 54–5.64See Dumas 1996.65Broomhall 2004, p. 57.

Female Healers in Middle Ages Western Vernacular Literature 119

at Universidade Federal de SÃ

£o João del R

ei on January 28, 2014http://shm

.oxfordjournals.org/D

ownloaded from

The debate in literature and in law over the superiority of ‘knowledge’ versus experiencewas being carried out with a sharp division between the voices of authority and the voicesof the healers and patients. The challenge to authority was felt at many levels and seemedto target not only the licensed physicians, but also the bodies that granted them theirauthority as well—the university and ultimately the Church. For whilst the claim tohave the support of God placed female healers in literature and reality in the categoryof ‘good’ healing, it had a curious side-effect of claiming direct interaction with God.This would seem to sanctify women’s breaking of the licensing laws, placing themoutside of authority and crossing dangerous boundaries.

Such challenges to authority and disregard for social, legal and spiritual boundaries didnot coincide well with religious reform movements of the period, two primary goals ofwhich were the consolidation and supremacy of ecclesiastical power and the cleansingof the Church from any vestiges of ‘pre-Christian’ or heretical traditions.66 Empiricssuch as Felicie often crossed boundaries between the categories of physician, surgeonand apothecary. Felicie herself was known for a special theriac she brewed which couldcure any ailment. This lack of respect for boundaries and the mystery surrounding theirwork often associated empirics with the ‘old wives’ and other suspect healers in the med-ieval medical marketplace. The issue of the source of healing power was of key impor-tance to a Church set on removing the last vestiges of ‘paganism’ from Europe, as wellas rooting out any taint of heresy.

The prominent role of women in heretical groups of the twelfth and thirteenth centu-ries was of concern to the Church as well. Women, in groups such as the Cathars, werepractising non-sanctioned forms of medicine, and appropriating the rites of sacrament.67

Groups such as the Beguines were also undermining traditional male roles by not allowingmen, including priests, into their communities.68 Although the impetus behind this actionwas to assure the purity of their convent, it was an appropriation of male power andChurch authority. As John Coakley shows in his exploration of the relationship of holywomen and ecclesiastical men, the main source of conflict lay in the fact that ‘the twosets of powers are based on putatively different authorities: an authority derived fromoutside the structures of the church in the first instance, and one derived from withinthose structures in the second’. Men’s powers were in preaching, teaching and governingthe church, but women heeded their own individual callings.69 In this atmosphere, andwith the increasingly close ties between the Church and the universities, any infringementof male spheres of authority, or any conduct that bypassed or went contrary to Churchauthority or doctrine, was met with an increasingly harsh penalty. Felicie’s presencewithin the male-dominated realm of medicine, her threat to that institution and her con-tinued empirical method of practice made her a threat to both Church and university. Thisdual threat is echoed in her dual punishment of a heavy fine, as well asexcommunication.70

66Grundmann 1995.67Hancke in Brenon and Dieulafait (eds) 2005.68Neel in Bennett et al. (eds) 1989.

69Coakley 2006, p. 770Magner 1992, p. 110.

120 April Harper

at Universidade Federal de SÃ

£o João del R

ei on January 28, 2014http://shm

.oxfordjournals.org/D

ownloaded from

ConclusionBy the sixteenth century, the image of the female healer in literature was relegatedalmost entirely to fairy figures. Her presence was limited and her relation to the realfemale healer and her medical knowledge would be severed—she was a fantastical crea-ture with mysterious abilities, not a physician. The detailed accounts of healing becameabsent and the otherworldly fairy functioned more as a deus ex machina rather than arepresentative figure of the female healer. The progressive exclusion of women fromeducation, professional licensing and the male sphere of power had succeeded in limitingthe legal practice of women, and by association had eliminated their literarycounterparts.71

The final image of Malory’s work is Morgan sailing away with the injured Arthur to themystical lands of Avalon where he is destined to be healed and someday return to hiskingdom, but what of his female healer? Was she intended to return as well or wasshe to disappear or continue to practise her craft in the mists of obscurity, relegated tothe fringe of both society and the imagination? What was the fate of the image of thefemale healer in literature? Knights and soldiers in literature did not stop fighting—who healed them? Did the healers of literature disappear? Here again, the healer ofliterature seems to echo the trends of the female healer in society. By no means didthe female healer of reality disappear, for despite the efforts of the authorities,women were still practising medicine. Peretta Peronne complained that there weremany female surgeons and healers who were practising their crafts and were notbeing prosecuted.72 Women such as Novella d’Andrea were found, like Gilette of theDecameron, continuing their father’s medical work—in Novella’s case, she even gaveher father’s lectures to his medical class when he was ill.73 The small numbers offemale practitioners found in excellent studies such as those of Monica Green showthe presence of women in a variety of medical careers and imply larger numbers offemale healers who practised undocumented.74

No longer prominent, but certainly not gone, the female healer in literature reflects thesearch for her counterpart in history. The frustrating glimpses and partial stories of thesewomen place historians of medicine and historians of literature on equal footing, attempt-ing to avoid the pitfalls of their assumptions while creating an image of the female healer.And perhaps in this way, the images constructed in literature can aid the historian in sup-plying yet more information as we interpret the ideals and images of the female healer aswell as adding voices to the historical debate over her place and practice in society andhow that society, at all levels, viewed her.

AcknowledgementsI am grateful for the time, patience and excellent suggestions of my editors, Clare Pils-worth, Debby Banham and the external readers. Many thanks must also go to SumiDavid, Linsey Hunter, Elizabeth Thomas, Caroline Proctor and Iona McCleery for theirtime, friendship and generosity in sharing their enthusiasm, ideas and sources.

71Green 1989.72Dumas 1996.

73Fulda 1904.74Green 1989.

Female Healers in Middle Ages Western Vernacular Literature 121

at Universidade Federal de SÃ

£o João del R

ei on January 28, 2014http://shm

.oxfordjournals.org/D

ownloaded from

BibliographyPrimary sources

Boccaccio G. 1972, The Decameron, McWilliam G. H. (trans.), London: Penguin.Bourdillon F. W. (ed.) 1970, Aucassin et Nicolete, Manchester: Manchester University Press.Bromwich R. (ed.) 1961, Trioedd Ynes Prydein, Cardiff: University of Wales Press.Chrétien de Troyes 1970, Erec et Enide, Comfort W. W. (trans.), London: Dent.Chrétien de Troyes 1981, Lancelot/Le Chevalier de la Charrette, Kibler W. (ed. and trans.), New York:Garland.

Curtis R. L. (ed.) 1994, The Romance of Tristan, Oxford: Oxford University Press.Denifle H. (ed.) 1891, Chartularium Universitatis Parisiensis, Paris: Delalain.Gottfried von Strassburg 1978, Tristan, Thorpe L. (trans.), Harmondsworth: Penguin.Grágás 1980, Laws of Early Iceland: Grágás I, Dennis A., Foote P. and Perkins R. (eds), Winnipeg: Uni-versity of Manitoba Press.

GuydeChauliac1997, InventariumSiveChirurgiaMagna,McVaughM.andOgdenM. (eds), Leiden: Brill.Hildegard von Bingen 1990, Physica, Throop P. (ed.), Rochester, VT: Healing Arts Press.Hildegard von Bingen 2008, Causes and Cures, Throop P. (ed.), New York: MedievalMS.Lacy N. 1993, Lancelot-Grail: The Old French Arthurian Vulgate and Post-Vulgate in Translation, 5vols, New York and London: Garland.

Lacy N. (ed.) 1998, Early French Tristan Poems, Arthurian Archives, Cambridge and Rochester, NY:D. S. Brewer.

Malory T. 2004, La Mort D’Arthure, Shepherd S. (ed.), New York: Norton.Marie de France 1986, ‘Deus Amanz’, in Burgess G. and Busby K. (eds), Lais, Harmondsworth:Penguin, 82–5.

Roig J. 1988, Llibre de les Dones, Tinena J. (ed.), Barcelona: Laertes.Sturluson S. 1976, Egil’s Saga, Edwards P. and Palsson H. (eds), Harmondsworth: Penguin.Tacitus 1877, The Agricola and Germania, Church A. J. and BrodribbW. J. (trans.), London: Macmillan.Theodoric 1960, The Surgery of Theodoric, Campbell E. and Colton J. (trans.), 2 vols, New York:Appleton-Century-Crofts.

Secondary sourcesAmt E. 1993, Women’s Lives in Medieval Europe, New York: Routledge.Barber M. 2000, The Cathars: Dualist Heretics in Languedoc in the High Middle Ages, London andNew York: Longman.

Blakeslee M. 1985, ‘Mal dacre, Malpertuis, and the date of Béroul’s “Tristan”’, Romania, 106,145–72.

Bloch R. 1977, Medieval French Literature and the Law, California: University of California.Brooke E. 1995, Women Healers: Portraits of Herbalists, Physicians and Midwives, Rochester, VT:Healing Arts Press.

Broomhall S. 2004,Women’s Medical Work in Early Modern France, Manchester: Manchester Univer-sity Press.

Burgwinkle W. 2004, Sodomy, Masculinity and the Law in Medieval Literature: France and England1050–1230, New York: Cambridge University Press.

Bynum C. W. 1988, Holy Feast and Holy Fast: The Religious Significance of Food to Medieval Women,Berkeley, CA: University of California Press.

Bynum C. W. 1997, ‘Wonder’, American Historical Review, 102, 1–26.Cameron M. L. 2006, Anglo-Saxon Medicine, New York: Cambridge University Press.Coakley J. 2006, Women, Men and Spiritual Power, New York: Columbia University Press.Crawford K. 2007, ‘Constructing Evil Foreign Queens’, Journal of Medieval and Early Modern Studies,37, 393–418.

Daichman G. S. 1986, Wayward Nuns in Medieval Literature, New York: Syracuse University Press.Dinzelbacher P. 1995, Heilige oder Hexen? Schicksale auffälliger Frauen in Mittelalter und Frühneu-zeit, Zurich: Artemis.

122 April Harper

at Universidade Federal de SÃ

£o João del R

ei on January 28, 2014http://shm

.oxfordjournals.org/D

ownloaded from

Dumas G. 1996, ‘Les femmes et les pratiques santé dans le “Registre des plaidoiries du Parlement deParis 1364–1427”’, Canadian Bulletin of Medicine, 13, 13–37.

Ellis-Davidson H. R. 1973, ‘Hostile Magic in the Icelandic Sagas’, in Newall V. (ed.), The Witch Figure:Folklore Essays by a Group of Scholars in England Honouring the 75th Birthday of KatharineM. Briggs, Boston: Routledge and Kegan Paul, 20–41.

Fichtenau H. 2000. Heretics and Scholars in the High Middle Ages 1000–1200, Philadelphia, PA:Pennsylvania University Press.

Fulda L. 1904, Novella d’Andrea. Schauspiel in vier Aufzügen, vol. 2, Stuttgart: Auflage.Green M. 1987, The Trotula: An English Translation of the Medieval Compendium of Women’s Medi-cine, Philadelphia: University of Philadelphia Press.

Green M. 1989, ‘Women’s Medical Practice and Health Care in Medieval Europe’, Signs, 14, 434–73.Green M. 2007, ‘Getting to the Source: The Case of Jacoba Felicie and the Impact of the PortableMedieval Reader on the Canon of Medieval Women’s History’, Medieval Feminist Forum, 42,50–63.

Grundmann H. 1995, Religious Movements in the Middle Ages, Indiana: University of Notre DamePress.

Hancke G. 2005, ‘La prédication féminine chez les cathares’, in Brenon A. and Dieulafait C. (eds), LesCathares devant l’histoire: mélanges offerts à Jean Duvernoy, Cahors: L’Hydre, 289–310.

Hanssler M. 1997, Katharismus in Sudfrankreich. Struktur der Sekte und inquisitorischen Verfolgungin der zweiten Hälfte des 13. Jahrhunderts, Aachen: Shaker Verlag.

Herzig T. 2006, ‘Witches, Saints, and Heretics: Heinrich Kramer’s Ties with Italian Women Mystics’,Magic, Ritual and Withcraft, 24–55.

Higley S. 1994, ‘Dirty Magic, Seiðr, Scicne and the Parturating Man in Medieval Norse and Welsh Lit-erature’, Essays in Medieval Studies, 11, 137–49.

Hunt T. (ed.) 1994, Anglo-Norman Medicine, Woodbridge: Boydell and Brewer.Jacquart D. 1990, ‘Theory, Practice and Three Fifteenth-Century Physicians’, Osiris, 6, 140–60.Johnson P. D. 1988, ‘Review of Daichman G. S., Wayward Nuns in Medieval Literature’, Speculum,63, 388–90.

Kaeuper R. 2007, ‘Literature as Essential Evidence for Understanding Chivalry’, Journal of MedievalMilitary History, 5, 1–34.

Keil G. 1991, ‘Ludwig V’, in Ruh K. (ed.), Die deutsche Literatur des Mittelalters. Verfasserlexikon:Neuzeit, Sigmaringen: Jan Thorbecke, 219–43.

Kieckhefer R. 1990, Magic in the Middle Ages, New York: Cambridge University Press.Kieckhefer R. 1994, ‘The Holy and the Unholy: Sainthood, Witchcraft, and Magic in Late MedievalEurope’, Journal of Medieval and Renaissance Studies, 24, 355–85.

Klaniczay G. 1990–1, ‘Miraculum und Maleficium. Einige Überlegungen zu den weiblichen Heiligendes Mittelalters in Mitteleuropa’, Wissenschaftskolleg Jarhbuch, 220–48.

Lazar M. 1964, Amour courtois et Fin’Amors dans la literature di xiie siècle, Paris: Klincksieck.Lemay H. 1985, ‘Anthonius Guainerius andMedieval Gynecology’, in Kirshner J. andWemple S. (eds),Women of the Medieval World: Essays in Honor of John H. Mundy, Oxford and New York: Black-well, 326–7.

Levin C. 2000, ‘Jacqueline Félicie’, in Levin C., Barrett-Graves D. and Carney J. et al. (eds), Extraordi-nary Women of the Medieval and Renaissance World: A Biographical Dictionary, Westport, CT:Greenwood Press, 84–6.

Macdougall S. 2000, ‘The Surgeon and the Saints: Henri de Mondeville on Divine Healing’, Journal ofMedieval History, 26, 253–67.

MacLeod M. and Mees B. 2006, Runic Amulets and Magic Objects, Woodbridge: Boydell.Magner L. 1992, A History of Medicine, New York: Marcel Dekker.Meaney A. L. 1981, Anglo-Saxon Amulets and Curing Stones, British Archaeological Reports BritishSeries 96, Oxford: British Archaeological Reports.

Moore R. I. 1994, The Origins of European Dissent, Toronto: University of Toronto Press.Mulvey Roberts M. and Porter R. (eds) 1993, Literature and Medicine during the Eighteenth Century,London: Routledge.

Female Healers in Middle Ages Western Vernacular Literature 123

at Universidade Federal de SÃ

£o João del R

ei on January 28, 2014http://shm

.oxfordjournals.org/D

ownloaded from

Neel C. 1989, ‘The Origins of the Beguines’, in Bennett J. and Clark E. et al. (eds), Sisters and Workersin the Middle Ages, Chicago: University of Chicago, 240–60.

Nelson J. L. 1978, ‘Queens as Jezebels: The Careers of Brunhild and Balthild in Merovingian History’,in Baker D. (ed.), Medieval Women, Oxford: Blackwell, 31–77.

Porter R. 1985, ‘The Patient’s View: Doing Medical History from Below’, Theory and Society, 14,175–98.

Schoepperle G. 1913, Tristan and Isolt: A Study of the Sources of the Romance, London: Nutt.Schön E. 2004, Asa-Tors hammare, Gudar och jättar i tro och tradition, Värnamo: Fält and Hässler.Spurlin W. J. and Fisher M. (eds) 1995, The New Criticism and Contemporary Literary Theory: Connec-tions and Continuity, New York: Garland.

Steffensen J. 1967–8, ‘Aspects of Life in Iceland in the Heathen Period’, Saga-Book of the VikingSociety, 17, 177–205.

Stoudt D. 1997, ‘Medieval German Women and the Power of Healing’, in Furst L. (ed.), WomenHealers and Physicians, Lexington: University Press of Kentucky, 13–42.

Talbot C. H. and Hammond E. A. 1965, TheMedical Practitioners in Medieval England: A BiographicalRegister, London: Wellcome Historical Medical Library.

Watkins C. 2008, History and the Supernatural in Medieval England, New York: Cambridge UniversityPress.

Weston L. M. C. 1995, ‘Women’s Medicine, Women’s Magic: The Old English Metrical ChildbirthCharms’, Modern Philology, 92, 279–93.

Wiesner M. E. 1986, Working Women in Renaissance Germany, New Brunswick, NJ: Rutgers Univer-sity Press.

124 April Harper

at Universidade Federal de SÃ

£o João del R

ei on January 28, 2014http://shm

.oxfordjournals.org/D

ownloaded from