Royal Witches

From Joan of Navarre to Elizabeth Woodville

Gemma Hollman

• Publisher: The History Press
• Year: 2019
• Print ISBN: 9780750989404
• eBook ISBN: 9780750993500
• Edition: 2
• Topic: History
• Subtopic: Historical Biographies
• Index: History

'An important and timely book' – Philippa Gregory

'Poignant, unique and thought-provoking' – All About History

'This introduces new readers, in the most accessible and colourful way, to a group of royal women who certainly deserve more public notice than they have hitherto received' – Professor Ronald Hutton, author of The Witch: A History of Fear, from Ancient Times to the Present

Joan of Navarre was the richest woman in the land, at a time when war-torn England was penniless.

Eleanor Cobham was the wife of a weak king's uncle – and her husband was about to fall from grace.

Jacquetta Woodville was a personal enemy of Warwick the Kingmaker, who was about to take his revenge.

Elizabeth Woodville was the widowed mother of a child king, fighting Richard III for her children's lives.

Often seen as the more easily manipulated pieces on the political chessboard, women – especially those with power or influence – were often subjected to rumour, scandal and intrigue directed by the men who sought to control them. In Royal Witches, Gemma Hollman explores the lives of these four unique women, looking at how rumours of witchcraft brought them to their knees in an era when superstition and suspicion was rife.

1

MAGIC IN THE LATE MEDIEVAL PERIOD

BEFORE EXPLORING THE lives of the four women contained in this book, it is necessary to take a moment to explore what exactly people in the fifteenth century believed about magic and sorcery. These women are defined as royal witches, but what exactly was a witch? This century was one of huge change, in terms of politics, technology and world view. At the start of the century, there was no singularly defined ‘witch’, but by the end, handbooks were circulating to help law enforcement recognise who could be a witch practising evil magic.

The previous century, courts on the Continent had been awash with intrigues. Even within the court of the Pope, there had been political accusations of sorcery against rival factions.¹ Closer to home, the French court had been falling apart due to the insanity of King Charles VI. Charles had delusions that made him believe he was made of glass, or disconnected from the world around him, and this meant there was no strong, stable ruler. Court factions began to take over, and this meant conspiracy in order to displace rivals. The king’s brother, the Duke of Orléans, dominated as the head of one faction. However, his wife Valentina Visconti came under suspicion of witchcraft, for Charles’ mental illness would often calm when she was present.² When combined with her husband’s power, her guilt was seemingly clear. England had lagged behind the Continent in terms of accusations of magic at court, but as the fifteenth century began, the precedents from elsewhere in Europe made it a tempting weapon.

The lines between magic, science and religion were blurred and ever changing. To modern minds the distinctions seem far clearer, but this was a very different time. Today, the practice of astrology is often seen as a bit of fun, or a load of nonsense, but to many medieval minds it was an absolute science. This does not mean that people blindly believed it – many scholars argued that the stars could hardly guide human fates, particularly when you could have twins who led very different lives.³ However, there was a huge section of society who believed that the cosmos could inform humans of when was an appropriate time to take a certain action. Big events such as a wedding or a battle would go more favourably if they took place under the right phase of the moon or the planets. This was so prevailing that doctors were expected to understand astrology in order to treat their patients effectively. One manuscript from 1395 instructed doctors that they should not bleed a limb if the moon was in the wrong sign.⁴

When astrology was usually considered a science, it is no surprise then that other practices which could be viewed as magic were also explored as a scientific discipline. Alchemy was the idea that with the right ingredients and conditions, one could transform one material (for example lead) into another (such as gold). Again, instead of being a fanciful notion, many people believed that this was possible. In the early 1400s, an English prince, the Duke of Bedford, employed alchemists in France to find the alchemical formula to make gold so that he could pay his soldiers, the royal purse being low.⁵

Even at the highest level of society, then, disciplines which could be considered delving into the realm of magic were being approved of and considered intellectually. However, these disciplines were not free from suspicion, and it could be a very fine line between science and magic. The astrologer making predictions for medicine could also use astrological charts for magic. Certain spells needed to be done at particular celestially important times of day or year, and these charts would help track them.⁶ They could also be used for treasonous acts, such as predicting the death of the king. The scientific man delving into astrology, therefore, was always vulnerable to attack.

At the start of the fourteenth century, there were beginning to emerge two separate strands of magic; that done by laymen, and that done by the elite. It was recognised that there was a clear difference between an old medicine woman in a rural village using herbs and charms for small spells and an educated university man using magical tomes to try and summon the dead. As the century progressed, the elite, demonic witchcraft took on the name ‘nigromancy’, often known today as necromancy. It was believed that by using nigromancy, people could conjure the spirits of the dead in order to ask them questions or to learn about the future.⁷ Sometimes, however, the strict definition of nigromancy was lost, and it was used as a general term to describe evil magic.

It was these educated men who were far more nefarious. Their education meant that much more dangerous avenues of magic were in their grasp, and it was often these men who were accused of acts of attempted or actual murder or bodily harm. It was very specific to men, for there were very few women at this time who were educated enough to be viewed capable of this. This was an important factor for the women in this book, as several cases therefore necessitated the help of learned men. Women, even royal ones, could not always summon the power for the more extreme acts of magic.

While accusations against men focused on their intellect and professions, another strand of magic tended to be more female orientated: love magic. In the fifteenth-century Munich Handbook, it is explained that evil magic (‘nigromancy’) could be used to ‘drive a person mad, arouse passionate love, to gain favour at court’, among others.⁸ The ability of witches to influence a person’s thoughts and feelings was believed to be a real danger, and by the end of the century the love aspect of magic was considered a much more feminine act. One contemporary witch-hunter considered that women were inherently lusty and so used magic to tempt new lovers or take their revenge against those who had scorned them.⁹ As the century progressed, and the accusations in this book took place, these assumptions about gender identity and witchcraft became ever clearer.

Witchcraft became closely identified with issues in the Church as ideas solidified. Witchcraft had usually been considered under the jurisdiction of the Church, as there were not necessarily secular laws against it. By the end of the fifteenth century, however, it was strongly believed that a witch was in league with the devil, and had turned their back on Christianity. Therefore, accused witches were tried as heretics, rather than necessarily for the crime of witchcraft. Witchcraft was also a problem within the Church, for often the most educated men of the time were members of the clergy, and therefore those implicated in accusations. Usually, if the accusations of practising witchcraft were not too malicious, the Church would let the accused go free on the promise that they did not reoffend. For most small-scale local practitioners, it was not worth the effort to fully prosecute them.

Religion and magic could also have blurred lines. The Catholic Church in the late medieval period encouraged praying to saints for intercessions, and members of the royalty or nobility would often use relics as powerful tools. A noble woman worried about a difficult birth might borrow the girdle of a female saint to wear during the birth to protect her. A sword might be inscribed with text from the Bible, or with Jesus’ name, to protect the user. In the same way, objects could be infused with magical incantations to cause harm or bestow protection.¹⁰ Both were done for similar purposes, with different intentions, for a similar outcome. While the two acts did have distinctions to the medieval mind, it still demonstrates that distinctions between magic, religion and science were not clear cut.

The most important thing to remember is that it was truly believed that there were people in the world who could use magic, and they could use this magic to cause real harm. Even if judges may be sceptical about whether the person really was a witch in one particular case, this was not to say that they did not believe in witches at all. This is why accusations of witchcraft were so powerful; they really could be partaking in nigromancy. Kings would issue orders for the Church to say prayers for their protection if it were thought that sorcerers were at work, and the insanity of one king or the unexplained death of another found an easy answer in witchcraft.

Accusations of witchcraft always found strongest currency in an uncertain climate – the arrival of a new, foreign queen and her foreign servants; the sudden rise of a relatively obscure courtier to a position of power; the insanity or minority of a king leading to factions at court. It was almost always within these climates that political accusations of witchcraft were to be found. It was also under these circumstances that the women in this book found themselves.

At the start of the fifteenth century, the word ‘witch’ was not necessarily in common vocabulary. By 1487 – just four years after the last case in this book – the Malleus Maleficarum was published in Germany. The book, known as the ‘Hammer of Witches’, was a guide for secular and religious authorities dedicated to describing what witches were, how they acted, and how they looked, so that they could successfully identify and prosecute them. The Malleus overwhelmingly blamed women for witchcraft, and although at the time of its publication it was just one theory among many, by the mid-sixteenth century it was regarded as the authority on witchcraft.¹¹ This development runs alongside the women in this book. The earliest accusation was the least severe in terms of consequence and substance, but as the century progressed and people saw its success as an accusation, each case began to inform the next. Tried and tested methods developed, and each allegation had traces of the previous one in it. As ideas of witchcraft solidified in the century, so it influenced the accusations against these women. But the relationship was symbiotic. As each woman was accused, so did their case influence contemporary ideas of witchcraft. Each time, the charges became easier to bring. It is time to learn their stories.

2

DUCHESS OF BRITTANY

JOAN OF NAVARRE was born around 1370, the sixth of seven children of Charles II (‘the Bad’) of Navarre and Joan of Valois. She was always destined for greatness; her lineage demanded it. Her father had been King of Navarre since 1349.

Navarre was a small independent state that lay between the huge Spanish territories of Castile and Aragon, and the French- and English-controlled lands in modern-day France. The territory had been ruled by both Aragon and France across the medieval period, but changes in the fourteenth century in the French dynasty meant that Charles’ father Philip III acceded to the throne of Navarre as an independent ruler through the rights of his wife, Joan II of Navarre. Charles II owned huge swathes of land in northern France, including extensive territory in Normandy, and was related to the French Crown through both his mother and father – his mother Joan II being the only child of King Louis X, and his father Philip being first cousin to King Philip VI.

Joan of Navarre’s mother, Joan of Valois, also had impressive blood flowing through her veins. The daughter of John II of France, she was also of French royalty. Her mother was Bonne of Luxembourg, giving both Joans connections to the royalty of Bohemia. Joan of Valois died at the age of 30, three years after Joan of Navarre’s birth. Charles never remarried, and so Joan grew up without a mother.

Although Joan was a Princess of Navarre, she most likely spent a lot of her early years in France. Her father spent most of his time in the country, using Navarre mainly as a source of money and manpower to extend his power in France. He had spent the first seventeen years of his life there (his father being Count of Évreux), meaning he probably viewed himself more as a French native than having any affiliation with his mother’s kingdom of Navarre. Joan’s mother died in Évreux, and this means it is likely that Joan was in the city with her mother upon her death, considering she was only 3 years old. As such, Joan almost certainly was brought up to speak French.

As a young princess, Joan would typically have expected to spend the first six or seven years of her life living with her mother and would then have begun some training in the skills that would later be required of her as a wife to another member of European nobility. This training would typically take place in the household of another noble – in this way, children (both male and female) were essentially being sent to a finishing school, where they would serve a fellow lord or lady, while simultaneously learning the skills needed to run their own household or estate. As a princess, however, it is unlikely that Joan would have moved to another household, and teaching would have taken place in her parents’ own court.

Once her mother had died, however, this became more difficult. Her mother would have been expected to be the main source of learning for Joan and a great example to follow. As with so many women in this period, no matter their rank, almost nothing is known of Joan’s childhood until her marriage at 16 years old. It is impossible to know whether Joan stayed with her father’s court as he travelled around France, busy in war and diplomacy with the French and English, or if – as was more likely, considering the precarious political position Charles was putting himself in – Joan kept her own small household in one of the family’s properties, possibly in Évreux.

In 1337, the Hundred Years War had begun between England and France. The English King Edward III claimed the throne of France through the right of his mother, Isabella of France, who was the only child remaining of Philip IV. However, the French questioned the ability of the Crown to pass through female hands, particularly when this would mean an English king taking over. Conflicts had been raging for decades between the two countries, who both attempted to capture important territories to bring them wealth, power and resources. Leaders of smaller, independent territories around the two nations, such as Navarre, therefore came in the firing line.

Charles II had attempted to increase his own power by playing one side off against the other, and this had often burnt him. After a revolution in Paris which Charles’ supporters had created, Charles found himself the subject of the dauphin’s ire. On 31 August 1358, the dauphin accused him of using magic against him, with his followers attempting to ‘perish all the royal house’. A man who was either a physician or astrologer (or both) of Charles’ was found to have paraphernalia of sorcery in his home.¹ Charles seems to have escaped without punishment, but within six years the dauphin became King Charles V of France, and so Charles of Navarre now had a powerful enemy....

Table of contents

• Cover
• Title
• Copyright
• Contents
• Acknowledgements
• Author’s Notes
• Introduction
• 1 Magic in the Late Medieval Period
• Joan Of Navarre
• Eleanor Cobham
• Jacquetta Of Luxembourg & Elizabeth Woodville
• Genealogical Tables
• Notes
• Bibliography