“Then he went, by the advice of his wife, who had well the heart of a man and a lion, through all the cities, castles and good towns that were to be rendered to him, and establish throughout good captains and so great a number of foot and mounted soldiers as he could there, and plenty of provisions.” - le Bel, Chronique, 1290
“Armed all over…mounted on a fine courser... [she] held a sharp cutting sword upright and fought right well with great courage.” - Froissart, Chronicles, 14th C.
In 1342, Jeanne de Montfort found herself assuming the lordship of Hennebont—thrust to the helm while having to prepare defenses against militant seizure. The aggressors, Jeanne de Penthièvre and her husband Charles, were present to impose their will upon de Montfort. Both parties sure of their right to inherit the powerful ducal kingdom of Brittany.
Within the castle walls Jeanne de Montfort quickly moved to rally the women and children. She encouraged everyone to do what they must to safeguard their community from besieging forces: To tear stones from wall and street; To use ammunition; To stand bravely in defense of the city. Climbing a turret to acquire a better view of the enemy at her doorstep, Jeanne devised a plan to launch a counterattack to draw the overwhelming force away from the townspeople; the community, those harmed in the politics of patriarchy. Jeanne armed herself, mounted a warhorse and led a small contingent of men to set fire to camp opposite the town.1 A daring action that resulted in a successful outcome.
The Jeanne’s—Jeanne de Montfort and Jeanne de Penthièvre—occupied both passive and active aggressor roles at various stages in the Breton War of Succession, a time of French political disarray after the death of Jean III duke of Brittany in 1341. Both women assumed power as sole lord of their respective landed titles within and without their husband’s presence. Both women rallied and fought alongside small contingents and larger armies alike, earning praise alongside the ascription of masculine attributes and animalistic monikers within contemporary chronicles, as we witnessed within the opening quotes.2
The tyrannical nature of constructs built out of patriarchy ensures we view medieval women’s power through a narrow scope—allowed only in time of masculine absence. And though it is true that both women took up power upon their husband’s various excursions and imprisonments, the ease in which they did so attests to a contemporary acceptance of practical power available to women. Their husbands, the military-minded men that they were, often sought their respective wife’s council in domestic and international policies. This exhibition of power wasn’t just required but expected of medieval noblewomen in defense of their dependent communities.3 The cooperation of men of the clergy, men of nobility, and men of military—three long-documented patriarchal spheres—points to a lived reality of recognizing women in positions of power.
As author Christine de Pizan asserted in 1405, it was vital for women to posses the knowledge of every role within the medieval estate, from care to combat. “She ought to have the heart of a man, that is, she ought to know how to use weapons and be familiar with everything that pertains to them, so that she may be ready to command her men if the need arises. She should know how to launch an attack or defend against one, if the situation calls for it. She should take care that her fortresses are well garrisoned.”4
Welcome to episode 3 of The Women Written Out: Women of the Hundred Years War, by Kate Wagner, the 15th Century Feminist. Be sure to subscribe to be notified of all future posts as we continue to explore the countless patriarchy confronting women of the past. If your brain requires words on a page—fear not, a written version of today’s episode and references are available via the 15th Century Feminist Substack. Though each episode is written to stand alone, I do recommend listening along in order as each builds upon the prior.
This is episode 3 - The Breton War of Succession: Women and Warcraft
In 1329, at just sixteen years old, Edward III of England found himself sailing to France. Newly king in his own right though heavily influenced by his materialistic mother, Edward was required to pay homage to the new French king, Philippe VI, for the Angevin lands that had been held almost continuously by the English since 1152.5 Edward had originally protested this act of submission but push came to shove and the threat of losing lands coupled with trouble from his Scottish neighbors altogether forced the young king’s hand.
Wearing red damask lined with hermine and emblazoned with fine gold silk thread depicting the bold lion of England—the very representation of the Angevin lands acquired by the English through matriarch Eleanor of Aquitaine—Edward III kissed his cousin while refusing to clasp hands with him or any of the French lords present. As the kings embraced, a chorus of English and French ministers declared they were rightfully owed more continental lands, while non!—the lands were French by right and might of war, respectively. It was homage in the most performative sense, as so much of patriarchy is. Edward was acknowledging that Philippe was his landlord without acquiescing any power to the French king.6 Philippe was a pushy rent collector, nothing more.
Though Edward was indeed a landholder within the realm of France, Philippe requiring his cousin to perform such fealty was meant to act as a show of patriarchal power. He was going to bring the king of England to his knees afore him to shore up any lingering doubt to his right to rule.
When Charles IV died in 1328, he was the last in a direct line of Capetian kings that had ruled France since 987. Leaving no sons, Charles’ closest male relative was in fact little old Edward III of England through his mother Isabella, Charles’ sister. Not wanting a foreign king to claim their ancestral lands, Valois lawyers cited archaic Salic laws which declared titles could not inherit through women, conveniently blocking all external claims whilst promoting their own bloodline.7 While Isabella boldly put forth her son’s right to rule France—something many English kings had claimed before (and after) her—their cousin Philippe had himself crowned as the first Valois king of France.8
Philippe’s requirement of young Edward allowed him an opportunity to flex both opulence and performative power over another sovereign.
However, before Isabella, mother to our young Edward, was able to assert her son’s right to reign over her mother-kingdom, she first had to take control of her matrimonial-kingdom from her negligent husband, king Edward II. The actions which Isabella undertook to seize power from a king that continually deferred rulership of his realm to whichever lord was in highest favor at the moment were as brutal as they were decisive, earning her the moniker of she-wolf—a beast which would tear off the limbs of her enemies, one by one.
As discussed last episode in regards to our Lioness, Jeanne de Clisson, these nicknames were meant to represent their depravity alongside patriarchal deviations. Yet, they also conveyed a very practical power that the reader would have recognized from their world around them. Isabella’s coup, post-limb tearing, was centered around gaining possession of her son, the heir to the English throne, and the vast resources that came along with that acquisition. If you controlled the king, you controlled the realm—a lesson Richard III would later egregiously exemplify.9
While Edward was in Isabella’s care—prior to his own coup in 1330—she acted as regent of England, assuming arguably the most public facing role of power we’ve retroactively allowed women of the middle ages. During this time Isabella not only positioned her son as the rightful heir to the French crown but secured him a wife and a powerful ally to boot. His new bride, Philippa of Hainault, was the daughter of Count William and Joan of Valois—Joan being the sister to the French king that would require Edward’s obedience on bended knee.10
Philippa’s dowry included the might of her uncle’s army which assembled under the exigencies of her mother-by-law, Isabella, and her rebellious acts against the negligent king of England—her husband, not her son.11 The power Isabella possessed is undeniable, and did often teeter on the brutal, but the asymmetry of her animalistic depictions is startling when held up against the chivalric acts ascribed to the men around her—they received glory, she received patriarchal disdain in perpetuity. But she was hardly the only powerful woman in Edward’s realm.
In one documented instance which occurred later in the Hundred Years War, Philippa—who was often at Edward III’s side in both peace and war throughout their 41 year marriage—emotionally pleaded, on hands and knees, to Edward’s empathetic side as he was threating to behead the surrendered Frenchmen against all objections of his lords present. Philippa exerted her influence over Edward in one of the few ways we’ve allotted for women to access power outside of the domestic sphere, widowhood, and regency, and though this submissive intercession did allow Edward to assert performative dominance, it is important to note that Philippa was the only person present able to influence a monarch in what was surely an emotionally charged moment.
This intercession, Philippa’s purported submission to her lord, has long been considered one of the few allowable showings of feminine influence upon the public domain in the middle ages. But just the year prior, Philippa was siting astride a white charger, rallying English men-at-arms to protect the kingdom against the invading Scots. As nineteenth century historian Agnes Strickland noted:
“It was now Philippa’s turn to do battle-royal with a king. As a diversion in favor of France, David of Scotland advanced into England a fortnight after the battle of Cressy and burned the suburbs of York. At this juncture Philippa herself hastened to the relief of her northern subjects.”12
The English, so stirred by Philippa’s influence, went on to defeat the Scottish at the Battle of Neville’s Cross where king David was captured and held as a prisoner of England for eleven years, often within the confines of the queen’s various landed estates.
On January 25, 1369, Edward III requested the financial records of Nicholas Sarduche of Lombardy.13 Edward, the fashionista that he was, had been urged to intervene on behalf of the London silk-women responsible for the opulent wardrobes of the king and queen.14
These entrepreneurial silk-women of England were required to rely on import to acquire their silk, as the cold, damp conditions of their little island did nothing for the warm-loving silkworm. Nicholas—exemplifying patriarchal greed finely—had undertaken a coup of his own and purchased large quantities of silk from foreign merchants, both depriving and monopolizing the market while overcharging the London silk merchants—a predominantly female occupation at the time.15
The silk-women petitioned Edward directly, informing the king:
“No other means of livelihood than their craft, that a certain Nicolas Sarduche for a long time past had been in the habit of forestalling and regrating all the crude and colored silk and other kinds of merchandise brought by aliens, thus grievously enhancing the price…to the great damage of the king, the commonality of the land and the petitioners.”16
Edward acted quickly in response to the women’s solicitation, imprisoning Sarduche upon acquisition of his records and holding him there until a verdict could be rendered.17 But before we move onto Edward’s judgment, I think it important to highlight the collective effort of a group of women to secure their own livelihood as well as that of their silk-weaving sisters. They were acting in camaraderie and were unafraid to petition the services of the highest ranking man of the realm. Edward’s willingness to both hear and champion their cause is yet another example of women’s power existing outside of the domestic sphere; Another example of women existing outside of the patriarchal-imposed meek and obedient woman of the middle ages.
On June 16, 1369, Edward found Sarduche guilty and he was fined £200.18
In case you lost track, so far we are at a tally of a minimum of seven women that were able to influence Edward III of England within the public sphere—which, according to patriarchal histories, women didn’t have access to, nor the agency to exert such power.
Let’s keep going, shall we?
Brittany, 1342
A single preserved correspondence indicates Jeanne de Montfort had been in a position of military leadership long before the aforementioned siege of Hennebont, implying her accepted power and intimate experience in the subject matter of war was anything but the standard projection of medieval woman as only able to assert minor influence over private household matters. Outside highlighting the grand scale of her sphere of influence, this document from March of 1342 shows Jeanne’s political shrewdness through her use of community efforts to procure allyship, as she had pledged herself and her military might to protect the people and goods of Saint-Malo by sea and land should they require it.19
Fast forward a few months later in May of 1342, Jeanne’s efforts to draw the mighty forces at her doorstep away from her community by setting the enemy camp aflame earned her the contemporary nickname la flamme for her brave, decisive, fiery actions.
When the opposing army became aware of the raging fire, they about-faced and cut Jeanne and her men off from Hennebont and the townspeople within. Ordering a withdrawal, Jeanne and her men hurdled towards the de Montfort stronghold of Brech, about 30km away, with the enemy hot on their hoofs all the way up to the very gates of the medieval fortress.20 Once in the safety of her familial fortification, Jeanne quickly began to organize further reinforcements in order to return to Hennebont and secure the freedom of her momentarily abandoned people. Five days later, Jeanne returned with roughly five-hundred armed supporters breaking through the attackers’ lines with the morning fog.21
Once Hennebont was fortified against the other Jeanne and party—that is Jeanne de Penthièvre and her husband Charles de Blois—our la flamme sought to strengthen her position. While being celebrated as savior by her people, Jeanne la flamme implored Edward III of England to support her cause. At this point, Philippe VI of France, at the instance of his greedy Valois lords, had started to act as aggressor to Edward and his continental lands. But Philippe miscalculated, as he was no longer dealing with a child king harboring a poor realm on his shoulders.22 Edward was now a man of thirty, and though he was far outside of youthful influence, his willingness to recognize the power and authority women possessed in the sphere of society building makes evident the far reaching acceptance of women with agency in the contemporary moment.
As Jeanne sought out a powerful ally the truest test yet of her fortitude and influence loomed in the background. Giving up on the idea of a quick siege of Hennebont, Jeanne de Penthièvre and party sought to force la flamme’s hand another way: through the trudging, messy affair that was the long siege. Pounding the city walls with artillery, the aggressors were attempting to starve out the inhabitants while creating an opportunity to capture the influential countess.
A male bishop went behind Jeanne’s back and sought out a parley with the enemy, proving to be far less resilient than our la flamme and ultimately looking quite silly at the end of this whole affair. With her council of lords against her and ready to fold, Jeanne urged them to hold on for just a while longer as she had assurances from the king across the water that reinforcements were on the way. In the dramatic style of medieval chroniclers, history has our Jeanne looking out of a high window moments from defeat only to spy the English army growing ever closer, just in the nick of time. Though we are unsure of how these events unfolded without the flair Froissart, the enemy party was obliged to scatter upon the introduction of English forces. They were routed and required to impose domination over the countess another way.23
“The Franks, they march to Hennebont, To assail its lofty walls; Then Jeanne La Flamme, the Duchess bold, Upon her people calls; And while each bell peals loud and long, Around the town rides she On her white steed, her little son Before her on her knee. Fierce in response, her subjects shout, Of every age and rank, “God save the mother and her son! Perdition to the Frank!” - Barzaz Breiz
On the other side of this armed conflict—a conflict which violently roared on for some twenty-three years—was the presumptive heir to the dukedom, Jeanne de Penthièvre, with sole claim to much of the duchy in her own right through primogeniture inheritance practices. However, with the recent reinstitution of Salic law to disbar Edward from inheriting France, Jeanne was left in a precarious position as the rightful heir of the duchy of Brittany, a French vassal—Jeanne was Jean III’s desired inheritor, his preferred leader. But she was a woman.
This in-fighting which catapulted into full blown civil war between the Breton nobles emerged almost immediately after the death of duke Jean. However, prior to asserting the right of her inheritance through domination and acts of war, Jeanne de Penthièvre sought to remedy the conflict through legal, peaceful avenues.24 Jeanne’s husband Charles pressed the suit on her behalf, and though he would initiate the judicial actions as hopeful duke of Brittany, there is a constant presence of Jeanne’s important status within their proposed lordship; within their partnership itself. As K.E. Sjursen highlights, Charles’ claim to the dukedom was only valid through right of his wife, as the duchy belonged to her.25 As Jeanne herself noted:
‘They have opposed the power of my adversaries, enemies, and ill-wishers, and have repelled and driven back these enemies, and daily do repel and drive them back from the said duchy and from my right which I had and have in it.’26
Philippe’s judgment would also acknowledge Jeanne’s position as true heir, acquiescing power to Charles as duke but only due to the presence and power of his wife. “The Chronique Normande related that Charles asked the king to recognize his wife Jeanne as the heir and that Philippe acquiesced; that is, he named Jeanne and not Charles as heir. Le Bel and Froissart made this case too, noting explicitly at several points throughout their chronicles, even after the discussion of the legal suit, that Charles’s right to the duchy of Brittany came from Jeanne.”27
During this tumultuous time in Breton, French, and English history there are numerous moments that offer evidence to the scope and nature of authority that women of all ranks possessed. So many moments. From influencing men-at-arms, to petitioning directly to the highest ranking person in the country thought to be meddling in the province of the divine, women were asserting their right to livelihood and connection to community outside the walls of their home, and this was a power that contemporary men recognized. So if Edward III of England and Philippe VI of France acknowledged that women possessed power and authority in the middle ages outside of the private sphere, why can’t patriarchal historians do the same?
Both le Bel and Froissart put forward stories of this sort about Jeanne de Montfort. Though there is some question to the validity of this account, it is important to note the acceptance of female participation in warcraft by contemporary men-at-arms and chroniclers alike.
le Bel ascribes Jeanne de Montfort with a “heart of a man and a lion”
Bornstein, Diane. Ideals for women in the works of Christine de Pizan. Michigan Consortium for Medieval and Early Modern Studies, 1981
Christine de Pizan, The Book of the Three Virtues
Froissart, Chronicles
Sumption, Jonathan. Trial by Battle: The hundred Years War I, 1990
Highly recommend Helen Castor’s breakdown of this within Joan of Arc: A History
Sumption, Jonathan. Trial by Battle: The hundred Years War II, 1990
I’m such a hater, and I know it. The himpathy (thank you Kate Manne for the term) surrounding Richard grinds my mental gears.
Sumption, Jonathan. Trial by Battle: The hundred Years War II, 1990
Froissart, Chronicles
Strickland, Agnes. Lives of the Queens of England, 1890. https://archive.org/details/livesofqueensofe0002agne
Hanawalt, Barbara A., The Wealth of Wives: Women, Law, and Economy in Late Medieval London. (2007)
Ibid.
Ibid.
A. H. Thomas (vols. 1-4), P. E. Jones (vols. 5-6), eds., Calendar of Plea and Memoranda Rolls of the City of London, 1323-1482. Cambridge, 1926-61.
Ibid.
Ibid.
Sjursen, Katrin E. The War of the Two Jeannes: Rulership in the Fourteenth Century, 2015
Visser, Nils, Willeke, Snijder. “The Flame of Brittany: Jeanne de Flanders.” Medieval Warfare 4, no. 2 (2014): 33–38. https://www.jstor.org/stable/48578335
le Bel, Chronique
The infamous battle of Crecy—England’s glory under Edward III—would occur just 4 years later in 1346.
Froissart, Chronicles
Sjursen, Katrin E. The War of the Two Jeannes: Rulership in the Fourteenth Century, 2015
Jones, Michael, ed., Recueil des actes de Charles de Blois et Jeanne de Penthièvre, duc et duchesse de Bretagne (1341– 1364), suivi des actes de Jeanne de Penthièvre (1364–1384)
Graham-Goering, E.M., Negotiating princely power in late medieval France: Jeanne de Penthièvre, duchess of Brittany (c.1325–1384)
Sjursen, Katrin E. The War of the Two Jeannes: Rulership in the Fourteenth Century, 2015
