She / Her / Hers: Exploring Women’s Patronage of Illuminated Manuscripts
A new digital publication dedicated to female patronage
We are delighted and honoured to present a digital publication by the distinguished American art historian and leading expert on medieval art, Dr. Barbara Drake Boehm (Paul and Jill Ruddock Curator Emerita of the Department of Medieval Art and The Cloisters at the Metropolitan Museum of Art). The central question of this publication is: How are medieval women portrayed, or how did they present themselves through the books they collected? How do we perceive them today?
What do we think the favourite books of female collectors in the Middle Ages looked like? Were they decorated with pearls, jewels and flowers or lovely and aesthetic motifs that delighted the hearts of medieval ladies? Or did women focus on other things, were they keen to present themselves appropriately in public and on an equal footing with their male contemporaries?
For many decades, researchers (both male and female) have been investigating what motivated women in the Middle Ages to commission individual books and what they focused on when compiling libraries according to their own interests and tastes.
The ‘Spitzer Hours’. Book of Hours for the use of Rome. Manuscript in Latin on vellum, illuminated by the Master of the David Scenes in the Grimani Breviary, the Master of the Prayerbooks of around 1500, the Master of Add. 15677 and a hand from the circle of the Master of James IV of Scotland. Flanders, Bruges, c. 1520.
Right at the beginning of Drake Boehm’s article, there is a huge surprise waiting for us. The book with the artistically painted jewels on pink silk in the border, surrounding the miniature of King David praying in the courtyard of his magnificent palace, did not belong to a lady, but to a man who had himself depicted in another miniature in the same book of hours. On the other hand, the Book of Hours, which contains some rather risqué obscenities in its borders that make even us, who are accustomed to the excesses of some appearances on social media, blush, belonged to a very wealthy lady. She had herself demurely portrayed in a high-necked dress next to the Virgin Mary and jubilant hosts of angels.
In general, it was essential for male and female patrons alike to have themselves portrayed with their patron saints, praying to the Virgin Mary or in some other context. In these so-called donor portraits, they often carried a book in their hand. The central question is here: What (manuscripts) did ‘she’ own, how does it reflect ‘her’ and does what was ‘hers’ define her or her times?
Book of Hours, use of Angers (?), manuscript in Latin with French prayers on vellum, illuminated by the workshop of the Harvard Hannibal Master. France, Paris, c. 1420-1425.
The ability to read (and to have access to reading material) was of the utmost importance since the beginnings of Christianity and was seen as a prerequisite for entering a convent. Monasteries were a sought-after refuge for many women in the Middle Ages, as they promised education, security and independence. Many prayer books were designed as so-called ‘primers’, i.e. books for learning to read, and some even contained an ABC to teach the owner how to spell.
One of the most important intellectual saints of Christianity is St Catherine of Alexandria, who is almost always depicted with a book, a broken wheel and a sword. The book symbolises her education and her ability to debate and convert even the most stubborn pagan intellectuals to Christianity. Unfortunately, this ability caused her downfall, as evidenced by the wheel, on which she was bound that was destroyed by God, who killed her torturers, and ultimately the sword, which decapitated her. Despite her terrible end, St Catherine was a model of self-confidence and fearlessness for women of the Middle Ages.
Prayerbook, for the use of Passau or Salzburg, likely made for an Augustinian monk. Manuscript in Latin on vellum, illuminated by Ulrich Taler and workshop. South Germany, Augsburg, text dated 1508, miniatures possibly after 1509.
Our publication will highlight further examples of intelligent, courageous and well-read women: Radegund (518–587), daughter of the prince of Thuringia, involuntary queen of France and founder of an abbey in Poitiers, which became a centre of attraction for many pilgrims. The manuscript with the illustrated tale of her life belonged to King Charles VIII of France and his dignified, influential, and cultivated wife Anne of Brittany, one among many renowned female rulers and bibliophiles of the 15th century.
Jean Bouchet, Life of St. Radegund. Manuscript on vellum, made for King Charles VIII and his wife Anne de Bretagne. France, Poitiers, c. 1496-1498.
A comparable, though less dramatic story that happened more than 900 years later, can be told of Philippa of Guelders (1464-1547), who as a young orphan had to leave her home in the Lower Rhine region. She was brought up at the court of Burgundy by two strong and learned women, Margaret of York and Mary of Burgundy. Philippa then came to the French court and received further education in cultural and political matters from the interim regent Anne de Beaujeu. When she became Duchess of Lorraine, she had learned to rule her country on behalf of her husband and later her son. Philippa was a great bibliophile, who fulfilled herself a life-long wish and ended her life in the Premonstratensian Abbey of Pont-à-Mousson. Some magnificent manuscripts from her and her son’s possession from our collection are discussed in this article.
Ludolphus Carthusiensis, Vita Christi, French translation by Guillaume Lemenand. Manuscripti, lluminated by the Master of the Chronique Scandaleuse for Philippa of Guelders and René II of Lorraine. France, Paris 1506-1508.