Textual Magic: Charms and Written Amulets in Medieval England 9780226825342

Citation preview

Textual Magic

Textual Magic Ch arms and Wr it ten A mul et s i n M edieval Engl a nd

Katherine Storm Hindley

The University of Chicago Press C h i c a g o a n d L o n d o n

PUBLICATION OF THIS BOOK HAS BEEN AIDED BY A GRANT FROM THE BEVINGTON FUND. The University of Chicago Press, Chicago 60637 The University of Chicago Press, Ltd., London © 2023 by The University of Chicago All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or repro­ duced in any manner whatsoever without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations in critical articles and reviews. For more information, contact the University of Chicago Press, 1427 East 60th Street, Chicago, IL 60637. Published 2023 Printed in the United States of America 32 31 30 29 28 27 26 25 24 23

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ISBN­13: 978­0­226­82533­5 (cloth) ISBN­13: 978­0­226­82534­2 (e­book) DOI: https://doi.org/10.7208/chicago/9780226825342.001.0001 Library of Congress Cataloging­in­Publication Data Names: Hindley, Katherine Storm, author. Title: Textual magic : charms and written amulets in medieval England / Katherine Storm Hindley. Other titles: Charms and written amulets in medieval England Description: Chicago ; London : The University of Chicago Press, 2023. | Includes bibliographical references and index. Identifiers: LCCN 2022047656 | ISBN 9780226825335 (cloth) | ISBN 9780226825342 (ebook) Subjects: LCSH: Charms— England— History—To 1500. | Magic— England— History—To 1500. | English literature— Middle English, 1100–1500— History and criticism. | English literature— Old English, ca. 450–1100— History and criticism. | Latin literature, Medieval and modern— England— History and criticism. | Anglo­Norman literature— History and criticism. Classification: LCC GR600 .H56 2023 | DDC 203/.32094202— dc23/eng/20221122 LC record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2022047656 ♾ This paper meets the requirements of ANSI/NISO Z39.48­1992 (Permanence of Paper).

Contents

List of Figures * vii List of Boxes * ix Note on Translation and Transcription * xi Abbreviations * xiii

Introdu ction Reading, Writing, and Charming * 1 Cha pter 1 The Powers of Charm­Words and Relics * 31 Cha pter 2 Before 1100: “Textual Magic” in Pre­Conquest England * 83 Cha pter 3 1100 to 1350: Charm Language and the Boundaries of Text * 145 Cha pter 4 1350 to 1500: “A Fayre Charme on Englysh” * 189 Conclu s ion The Changing Power of Words * 243 Acknowledgments * 259 Manuscripts Cited * 261 Works Cited * 267 Index * 289

Figures

0.1 0.2 1.1 1.2 1.3 1.4 2.1 2.2 2.3 3.1 3.2 3.3 3.4 3.5 3.6 4.1 4.2 4.3

Depictions of the history of medicine (fifteenth century) 13 Apollo performing healing (fifteenth century) 14 Manuscript birth girdle (dorse) (late fifteenth century) 69 Amuletic image of the cross (fifteenth century) 75 “Beholde and se” (late fifteenth century) 79 “Beholde and se” (late fifteenth century) [digitally enhanced] 80 “Abracadabra” amulet (thirteenth century) 84 Gold lamella (third or fourth century) 87 The Franks Casket (early eighth century) 93 Ciphered medical text (early twelfth century) 149 Protective characters (late eleventh century) 173 Abbreviations in a charm for nosebleeds (early twelfth century) 175 Magical figure incorporating the word “tetragrammaton” (thirteenth century) 179 Magical seal (thirteenth century) 180 Charm for wishes (fourteenth century) 181 Magical seal for protection (fifteenth century) 224 Magical seal for protection against storms (fifteenth century) 225 Transliterated “Greek” in a charm against cramp (fifteenth century) 230

Boxes

0.1 0.2 0.3 1.1 1.2 1.3 1.4 1.5 1.6 1.7 1.8 1.9 2.1 2.2 2.3 2.4 2.5 2.6 3.1 3.2 3.3 3.4 4.1 4.2 4.3 4.4

Selected Charms Claiming to Function through the Grace of God 16 Selected Charms Incorporating Spoken, Written, and Liturgical Components 20 A Charm for Wounds 24 Veronica Charms for Bleeding 32 A Charm against Fevers 48 Selected Charms for Childbirth with Dissolved Text 50 A Charm for the Falling Evil 52 Fever Charms Written on Communion Wafers 56 A Fever Charm Written on Sage Leaves 59 Childbirth Charms Written on Butter or Cheese 60 Nichasius Charms 64 Apollonia Charms 66 Pre­Conquest Charms Including Runic Characters 95 Pre­Conquest Charms Using Names as Efficacious Texts 102 Pre­Conquest Parallels between Past Success and Present Expectation 109 “In Principio Erat Verbum” in Pre­Conquest Charms 113 Pre­Conquest Charms Using the Pater Noster 122 A Charm for “Elf­Hiccup” 140 French Charms 152 Charms with English Instructions 155 Charms with French Instructions 161 Variations of the Tigath/Acre Charm 166 Charms Giving Instructions in Multiple Languages 194 English as the Sole Language of Power in Charms 196 English Instructions, French Efficacious Words (and Vice Versa) 202 Textual Charms in the Vernacular 221

Note on Translation and Transcription Unless otherwise specified, translations are my own. I have placed foot­ notes after quoting the original language when the translation is mine and after quoting the translated text when citing another translation. When quoting published transcriptions from manuscripts, I have used the editorial conventions of my source. When I have transcribed text my­ self, I have expanded abbreviations with the supplied letters in italics and raised letters lowered. Letters presented in square brackets are missing from the manuscript but have been supplied from context, as, for example, when space has been left for the future addition of rubricated initials. El­ lipses in square brackets represent damaged or illegible text, while ellipses without square brackets are used when I am deliberately omitting words from the quoted passage. Bold text represents manuscript rubrication, while text that is underlined or crossed out in the manuscript source is similarly underlined or crossed out in my transcription. I have normalized word separation where it would otherwise make reading difficult. I have not marked line breaks or insertion marks for scribal corrections.

Abbreviations

A NTS EEB O EETS E S EETS OS EETS S S DI M EV

Anglo­Norman Text Society Early English Books Online Early English Text Society, Extra Series Early English Text Society, Original Series Early English Text Society, Supplementary Series Digital Index of Middle English Verse

In troduction

Reading, Writing, and Charming In 1382, a London court sentenced Roger Clerk to ride bareback through the city to the sound of trumpets and pipes, carrying around his neck two urine flasks, a whetstone, and a fraudulent textual amulet.1 Roger’s crime was falsely impersonating a physician; the textual amulet he car­ ried was the one he had tried on his patient Johanna. Both the expecta­ tion that written words might have healing power and the specific details of Roger’s trial shed light on the complex relationships between literacy, medical practice, and the efficacious power of words in medieval En­ gland. The crux of Roger’s trial as it was described in the records lay in atti­ tudes toward the written word. The supposed amulet was merely “an old parchment . . . a leaf of some book” rolled up in cloth of gold, yet Johanna and her husband had initially believed that the material text and page might have the power to heal her of her unspecified maladies.2 During the trial, Johanna’s husband presented the offending object to the court as evidence. When Roger appeared,

1. Roger’s story is translated in Henry Thomas Riley, ed., Memorials of London and London Life, in the XIIIth, XIVth, and XVth Centuries: Being a Series of Extracts, Local, Social, and Political, from the Early Archives of the City of London, A.D. 1276– 1419 (London: Longmans, Green and Co., 1868), 464– 66. The Latin text has been edited under the heading “Pleas Held at the Guildhall before the Mayor and Aldermen,” in Anne Lancashire, ed., Records of Early English Drama: Civic London to 1558 (Cambridge: D. S. Brewer, 2015), 1:20– 21. 2. “Vnam veterem cedulam . . . de quodam folio cuiusdam libri.” Johanna is described as lying ill “pro diuersis infirmitatibus quas in corpore suo habebat” (on account of the various maladies which she had in her body). Lancashire, Records, 1:21.

2

Introduction

dicta cedula ei monstratur per Curiam et quisitum est ab eo ad quod dicta cedula valet qui dicit in illa scribitur bonum carmen pro febribus Vlterius quesitum est ab eo per curiam que sunt verba predicti carminis sui qui dicit aima christi sanctifica me corpus christi salua me isanguis christi nebria me cum bonus christas cum laua me et inspecta cedula predicta nullum eorundem verborum in ea scripta fuerunt.3 the said parchment was shown to him by the Court, and he was asked what the virtue of such a piece of parchment was; whereupon, he said that upon it was written a good charm for fevers. Upon being further asked by the Court what were the words of this charm of his, he said;—“Anima Christi, sanctifica me; corpus Christi, salve me; in isanguis Christi, nebria me; cum bonus Christus tu, lave me.” And the parchment being then examined, not one of those words was found written thereon.4

Unable to even get the words of the suspect charm right, Roger was found guilty. This book is a study of words at their most powerful: words that, ac­ cording to the beliefs of their users, could be deployed to physically change the world, providing healing to the sick or protection to the vulnerable. In Roger’s trial, we see two key points of tension surrounding such efficacious words: first, the Latin— at least as it has been recorded— was garbled, and second, the amulet did not contain the words that Roger claimed.5 Both of these relate, in different ways, to the fear that people might misuse or mangle powerful words they did not understand or wrongly assume that powerless words had power. As we shall see over the course of this book, concerns about whether or not efficacious words could properly be under­ stood and concerns about who could read or access them were persistent. 3. Lancashire, Records, 1:21. 4. Riley, Memorials, 465. The words of the charm are taken from the popular prayer Anima Christi, composed in the early fourteenth century. For more on the prayer, see Earl Jeffrey Richards, “The Prayer Anima Christi and Dominican Popular Devotion,” in Poverty and Devotion in Mendicant Cultures, 1200– 1450, ed. Constant J. Mews and Anna Welch (London: Routledge, 2016), 105– 27. 5. It is not clear whether the mistakes in the Latin are the scribe’s or Roger’s. Riley, Memorials, 465, notes that the manuscript’s Latin is incorrect and should read “sanguis . . . inebria.” The correct Latin would mean “Soul of Christ, sanctify me; body of Christ, save me; blood of Christ, drench me; as thou art good, Christ, wash me.” The Latin edition in Lancashire, Records, 1:21, records a slightly different phrase, although still one that is incorrect.

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Medieval authorities repeatedly condemned the use of unknown words, whether written or spoken. Roger was found guilty not only because he had lied but because he was “in no way a literate man” and so could not understand what his parchment said— a fact the brief record of his trial reports not once but twice.6 Although educated people could and did use written charms, Roger was not a fit practitioner.7 As his trial demonstrates, some charms required literacy. In using “textual magic” in the title of this book, I seek to disrupt the as­ sumptions about uneducated practitioners that might otherwise surround the word charm. First, in emphasizing text, I wish to highlight that these charm­remedies make use of a technical skill— writing— that was not available to all. Second, in emphasizing magic, I aim to draw attention both to the practical effects that charms sought to produce and to the ambigu­ ity of the power that lay behind their words. Broadly speaking, medieval commentators considered magic to originate either from demons or from “occult” properties inherent in certain natural objects, often thought to be caused by the rays of the stars or planets.8 While many charms invoked nonmagical sources of power, such as God or the saints, others did not make the origin of their power clear and were therefore open to accusa­ tions of being demonic in nature. It is often not evident whether a person performing a charm would have perceived him­ or herself as practicing medicine, as calling on the hidden natural properties of the words them­ selves, or as carrying out an act of religious faith. For this reason, I use the neutral term practitioner throughout this book, since it can refer to either a medical practitioner or a practitioner of magic. In the study that follows, I explore conceptions of the power of “textual magic” in medieval England from the pre­Conquest period to the end of the fifteenth century. This was a period of tremendous change in which the inhabitants of England altered their writing systems and their languages and during which both literacy rates and access to the written word soared. To examine the importance of writing as a medium through which pa­ tients could interact with words, I place examples of efficacious text— in which the charm functions by means of the written word— alongside pro­ 6. In addition to describing Roger as knowing nothing about the medical arts, the record specifies, “nec aliquam literaturam intellegit” (nor did he understand anything of letters), and later states that he was “in nullo . . . litteratus” (in no way a literate man). Riley, Memorials, 465; Lancashire, Records, 1:20– 21. 7. Lea T. Olsan, “Charms and Prayers in Medieval Medical Theory and Practice,” Social History of Medicine 16, no. 3 (December 2003): 343– 66. 8. Richard Kieckhefer, Magic in the Middle Ages, 2nd ed. (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2000), 8– 17.

4

Introduction

tective and healing uses of spoken words. As we shall see, people in need invoked power in both ways throughout the Middle Ages, although the specific uses of spoken and written charms diverged. Previous scholarship on charms in England has tended to focus on the pre­Conquest period, which has been well studied.9 Most recently, Ciaran Arthur’s “Charms,” Liturgies, and Secret Rites in Early Medieval England has argued that the very concept of “charms” in this period should be abandoned— an idea I address in chapter 2.10 Despite the attention paid to early charms, the broader English charm tradition has been neglected rel­ ative to the traditions of many other European countries. In his 2005 study English Verbal Charms, Jonathan Roper notes that “there is no monograph dedicated to English charms . . . nor any halfway comprehensive cata­ logue.”11 Roper’s work, based on a database of five hundred verbal charms spanning more than a thousand years, took the first important step toward filling that gap. However, there is still no catalog of English charms and still no monograph focused on later medieval English charms, or on charms in England during the Middle Ages as a whole.12 My book aims to remedy 9. Editions of charm-texts with accompanying discussion can be found in Thomas Oswald Cockayne, ed. and trans., Leechdoms, Wortcunning, and Starcraft of Early England, 3 vols., The Rolls Series 5 (London: Longman, Green, Longman, Roberts, and Green, 1864– 66); J. H. C. Grattan and C. Singer, Anglo-Saxon Magic and Medicine Illustrated Specially from the Semi-Pagan Text “Lacnunga,” Publications of the Wellcome Historical Medical Museum, New Series 3 (London: Oxford University Press, 1952); Felix Grendon, “The Anglo- Saxon Charms,” Journal of American Folklore 22 (1909): 105– 237; and Edward Pettit, ed., Anglo-Saxon Remedies, Charms, and Prayers from British Library MS Harley 585: The Lacnunga, 2 vols., Mellen Critical Editions and Translations 6 (Lewiston: Edwin Mellen Press, 2001). Other scholarly discussions of pre-Conquest charms include Audrey L. Meaney, “Extra-Medical Elements in Anglo-Saxon Medicine,” Social History of Medicine 24, no. 1 (April 2011): 41– 56; Lea T. Olsan, “The Inscription of Charms in Anglo- Saxon Manuscripts,” Oral Tradition 14, no. 2 (1999): 401– 19; M. L. Cameron, Anglo-Saxon Medicine, Cambridge Studies in Anglo-Saxon England 7 (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1993); and Judith A. Vaughan-Sterling, “The Anglo- Saxon ‘Metrical Charms’: Poetry as Ritual,” Journal of English and Germanic Philology 82, no. 2 (April 1983): 186– 200. 10. Ciaran Arthur, “Charms,” Liturgies, and Secret Rites in Early Medieval England (Woodbridge, UK: Boydell Press, 2018). 11. Jonathan Roper, English Verbal Charms, FF Communications 288 (Helsinki: Suomalainen Tiedeakatemia, Academia Scientiarum Fennica, 2005), 25. By contrast, Roper lists catalogs of vernacular charms for Sweden, Norway, Denmark, the Swedish population of Finland, the Netherlands, Lithuania, Russia, Sicily, Belarus, and Hungary. 12. Although there is no monograph dedicated to later medieval charms, some editions of charm-texts can be found in Suzanne Eastman Sheldon, “Middle English and Latin Charms, Amulets, and Talismans from Vernacular Manuscripts” (PhD diss.,

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this lack. The texts I have collected over the course of researching this book, amounting to more than eleven hundred medieval charm­copies, many of them previously unpublished, will be combined with further charm­copies and made available in an accompanying database.13 Although my focus is on England, the medieval culture of charm use reached across Europe and beyond. Some charm­types were widespread in many medieval regions and languages. These include the Three Good Brothers charm against wounds, the Peperit charm for childbirth, and various versions of the Heavenly Letter for protection, all of which will be explained and discussed in the pages that follow.14 Other types were par­ ticularly common in certain language groups: T. M. Smallwood notes that several charm­motifs, including the Flum Jordan charm against bleeding, are shared across the countries of the North Sea and are found in “a total of many hundreds of copies or recorded oral occurrences in the languages of northern Europe, notably German and English, and in next to none of the Romanic languages.”15 There was also local variation within related lan­ guage groups in terms of which charms were recorded and the conditions to which charms were applied. For instance, W. L. Braekman’s collection of medieval Dutch charms lists several incantations to treat burns, a con­ dition not treated by any of the charms in my collection from medieval England.16 And yet, in the postmedieval period, the burn charm Out Fire, in Frost was one of the most common narrative charms in England but was Tulane University, 1978). Laura Mitchell’s “Late Medieval English Magic” website, available online at https://magicalmedieval.wordpress.com, is based on research for her “Cultural Uses of Magic in Fifteenth-Century England” (PhD diss., University of Toronto, 2011). It catalogs manuscripts containing magical texts, including charms. 13. This database will be made public thanks to the support of a Singapore Ministry of Education Academic Research Fund Tier 1, RG56/19. It can be found at https:// blogs.ntu.edu.sg/medievalcharms/. 14. See, for example, Lea Olsan, “The Three Good Brothers Charm: Some Historical Points,” Incantatio 1 (2011): 48– 78; Marianne Elsakkers, “‘In Pain Shall You Bear Children’ (Gen. 3:16): Medieval Prayers for a Safe Delivery,” in Women and Miracle Stories: A Multidisciplinary Exploration, ed. Anne-Marie Korte (Leiden: Brill, 2001), 179– 209; L. Gougaud, “La prière dite de Charlemagne et les pièces apocryphes apparentées,” Revue d’Histoire Ecclésiastique 20 (1924): 211– 38; William R. Halliday, “A Note upon the Sunday Epistle and the Letter of Pope Leo,” Speculum 2, no. 1 ( January 1927): 73– 78. 15. T. M. Smallwood, “A Charm-Motif to Cure Wounds Shared by Middle Dutch and Middle English,” in Cultuurhistorische Caleidoscoop: aangeboden aan Prof. Dr. Willy L. Braekman, ed. C. M. E. de Backer (Ghent: Stichting Mens en Kultuur, 1992), 494. 16. W. L. Braekman, Middeleeuwse Witte en Zwarte Magie in het Nederlands Taalgebied (Ghent: Koninklijke Academie voor Nederlandse Taal- en Letterkunde, 1997), 65– 70.

6

Introduction

not adopted into other languages.17 As these brief examples demonstrate, charm practices were common across Europe but varied by time, place, and language. Some types of charms existed in many countries; others were restricted to particular language families, and still others to certain geographical regions. While charm culture was widespread, its specifics could be, and often were, quite local. This book therefore examines the English manifestation of a practice with much broader reach.

Charms, Literacy, and “Elite” and “Popular” Culture Given the focus on literacy and understanding in Roger Clerk’s trial, it would be easy to see objections to charms as reflecting learned, literate attempts to moderate popular religious practice. However, the situation was never that simple. Charms, like other elements of medieval religious belief, were subject to the complex patterns of influence that connected popular beliefs and folklore with medieval scholarly writing. This dynamic was brought to the fore in the 1980s with the spirited debate between Jacques Le Goff and Aron Gurevich on the origins of purgatory. Le Goff ’s arguments emphasize scholastic developments that gave shape to medi­ eval thinkers’ previously amorphous ideas about penance after death. He links the developments to new socioeconomic structures and to Latin theologians’ deliberate opposition to the Greek church.18 In Le Goff ’s model, then, scholarly ideas shape and direct popular beliefs. Gurevich, by contrast, argues that while the precise configuration of purgatory may have been indistinct, its function was clearly established in popular culture before it was formulated by scholars. In Gurevich’s view, the beliefs and concerns of ordinary people influenced the ideas of those who preached and ministered to them, driving university scholars to articulate popular theories in academic form.19 17. Barbara Hillers, “Towards a Typology of European Narrative Charms in Irish Oral Tradition,” in Charms, Charmers and Charming in Ireland: From the Medieval to the Modern, ed. Ilona Tuomi, John Carey, Barbara Hillers, and Ciarán Ó Gealbháin, New Approaches to Celtic Religion and Mythology (Cardiff: University of Wales Press, 2019), 88. Roper, English Verbal Charms, 116, states that “the earliest surviving record [of Out Fire, in Frost] is from sixteenth-century Kent.” 18. Jacques Le Goff, The Birth of Purgatory, trans. Arthur Goldhammer (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1984). 19. Aron Gurevich, Medieval Popular Culture: Problems of Belief and Perception, trans. J. M. Bak and P. A. Hollingsworth (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1988); and “Popular and Scholarly Medieval Cultural Traditions: Notes in the Margin of Jacques Le Goff’s Book,” Journal of Medieval History 9, no. 2 (1983): 71– 90.

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Although Le Goff and Gurevich disagree on the direction of cultural influence, both stress the significant overlap and interplay between schol­ arly and popular beliefs. Charms, too, reveal such interplay. As I demon­ strate in chapter 1, written charms— which were not discussed much by theologians— were understood to function in ways parallel to healing relics, which were discussed in depth. Whether this indicates that me­ dieval scholars built their theories on a set of shared assumptions about the transmission of healing power, or whether it suggests that medieval Christians generally applied church teachings more widely than theolo­ gians intended, scholarly and popular ideas were intertwined. The argument that charms demonstrate interplay between scholarly and popular beliefs does little, however, to clarify what “popular culture” actually was. Various definitions could apply: Gurevich, for example, sug­ gests that “popular culture” might refer to the culture of the lower classes of society, or to the culture of the illiterati as opposed to the educated.20 Neither of these divisions quite reflects the reality of medieval charms.21 Modern assumptions about charms— verbal formulas used for practical purposes, including healing— often associate them with oral perfor­ mance, with women, and with the uneducated. This was also true in the Middle Ages: the fourteenth­century author of the Fasciculus morum, for instance, assumed that the user of “made­up charms” would be “some wretched old woman.”22 Yet this picture is inaccurate. Medieval charms, as others have rightly argued, were used by men and women from the whole social spectrum and sometimes relied on the willing involvement of priests.23 Spoken charms certainly circulated orally— a mode of transmis­ sion which unfortunately leaves no trace— but they were also sometimes recorded by university­trained physicians and surgeons.24 Charms that require their texts to be copied assumed at least basic literacy on the part 20. Gurevich, Medieval Popular Culture, xv. 21. See, for example, Jacqueline Simpson, “Repentant Soul or Walking Corpse? Debatable Apparitions in Medieval England,” Folklore 114, no. 3 (December 2003): 389–402. 22. “Fictis carminibus”; “aliqua vetula misera.” Siegfried Wenzel, ed., Fasciculus morum: A Fourteenth-Century Preacher’s Handbook (University Park: Pennsylvania State University Press, 1989), 576– 77. 23. See, for example, the impressive range of written amulets collected in Skemer, Binding Words. 24. Michael McVaugh, “Incantationes in Late Medieval Surgery,” in Ratio et Superstitio: Essays in Honor of Graziella Federici Vescovini, ed. Giancarlo Marchetti, Orsolo Rignani, and Valeria Sorge, Textes et Études Médiévales 24 (Louvain-La-Neuve: Fédération Internationale des Institus d’Études Médiévales, 2003), 319–45; Lea T. Olsan, “Charms and Prayers,” 343– 66.

8

Introduction

of their practitioners. Their use crosses the boundaries that terms such as elite and popular suggest. The early modernist Peter Burke’s model of “great” and “little” cultures helps to explain elite participation in “popular” practices such as charm­ ing. Burke holds that the “great” tradition of society, transmitted at schools and universities, was restricted to the educated elite, while the “little” tra­ dition, transmitted informally, was accessible to all.25 These ideas have been applied compellingly to the Middle Ages, as in Richard Firth Green’s study of medieval fairy beliefs.26 But their application to the Middle Ages has also been challenged. Carl Watkins, for example, argues that Burke’s model cannot function for the medieval period because “the institutions of the Church did not set out to preserve the articles of religious belief in the same way that grammar schools and universities sustained Burke’s elite culture.”27 Rather than keeping theological learning exclusive, the church deliberately found ways to bridge the gap between scholarly teachings and local practice. Watkins accordingly proposes an adaptation of Burke’s the­ ory, arguing that there were “two traditions in medieval religious culture but all members of medieval society participated to a greater or lesser de­ gree in both of them.”28 Rather than compartmentalization, Watkins sees a spectrum on which official and unofficial beliefs mingled.29 Although the intentions of medieval institutions may have differed from those of early modern ones, and cultural boundaries may therefore have been less sharp, it is undeniably true— as Watkins acknowledges— that some forms of learning never reached the parishes.30 In practice, then, there were aspects of educated culture in which the uneducated did not participate. However, it is also true that Burke’s model allows insufficient room for the “great” tradition to transmit religious ideas to the “little” one.31 I therefore envisage a situation somewhere between Burke’s and Watkins’s ideas. In the specific case of charms, practical access to the remedies also 25. Peter Burke, Popular Culture in Early Modern Europe, 3rd ed. (Farnham: Ashgate, 2009), 55– 56. 26. Richard Firth Green, Elf Queens and Holy Friars: Fairy Beliefs and the Medieval Church (Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press, 2016), 42– 43. 27. Carl Watkins, “‘Folklore’ and ‘Popular Religion’ in Britain during the Middle Ages,” Folklore 115, no. 2 (August 2004): 145. 28. Watkins, “‘Folklore’ and ‘Popular Religion,’” 145. 29. Watkins, “‘Folklore’ and ‘Popular Religion,’” 147. 30. Watkins, “‘Folklore’ and ‘Popular Religion,’” 145. 31. Salvador Ryan, “The Most Traversed Bridge: A Reconsideration of Elite and Popular Religion in Late Medieval Ireland,” in Elite and Popular Religion, ed. Kate

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complicates the idea of “great” and “little” traditions, as there is a gulf between efficacious words that must be spoken and efficacious words that must be written. Spoken charms could be repeated by anyone who could remember their words, whether or not they also understood their mean­ ing. When charms required texts to be written down, they would have to be performed by someone with some level of literacy, and therefore with some level of access to the “great” tradition. However, people in medie­ val England used many languages, including English, Latin, French, Old Norse, Cornish, Dutch, and Hebrew.32 Latin literacy was generally more restricted than vernacular literacy, but the ability to read, write, or under­ stand any one of these languages did not necessarily imply the ability to read, write, or understand others. Nor did the ability to read a language necessarily imply the ability to write it.33 Some people may therefore have been capable of reading and understanding a written charm without be­ ing able to perform it themselves. In the discussions that follow, when I use the word literate with no further qualification to refer to the user of a charm, I intend to refer to someone sufficiently literate in the language used by that charm to perform it, including writing it down if that was required. In other words, I am interested in whether a particular charm could have been performed by many people or only by the comparatively well educated. Although my work is concerned with issues of orality and literacy, my focus differs from that of major works such as Brian Stock’s Implications of Literacy and Walter J. Ong’s Orality and Literacy: The Technologizing of the Word.34 Whereas both of these works are concerned with the effect of increasing literacy on the organization of society and language, the pres­ ent book aims to explore the effect of rising literacy on the belief that the written word could hold or transmit physical power. The texts that Stock and Ong study were influential because they were read; the texts I am Cooper and Jeremy Gregory, Studies in Church History 42 (Woodbridge, UK: Boydell and Brewer, 2006), 121. 32. These languages, among others, are discussed in the essays collected in Judith Jefferson and Ad Putter, eds., Multilingualism in Medieval Britain (c.1066– 1520): Sources and Analysis, Medieval Texts and Cultures of Northern Europe 15 (Turnhout: Brepols, 2013). 33. See, for example, Franz H. Bäuml, “Varieties and Consequences of Medieval Literacy and Illiteracy,” Speculum 55, no. 2 (April 1980): 237– 65. 34. Brian Stock, The Implications of Literacy: Written Language and Models of Interpretation in the Eleventh and Twelfth Centuries (Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 1983); Walter J. Ong, Orality and Literacy: The Technologizing of the Word, New Accents (London: Methuen, 1982).

10

Introduction

interested in were also influential yet were often not intended to be read, in the traditional sense of the term, at all. As we have seen in the case of Roger Clerk’s Johanna, the text of a charm was not necessarily used by the person who created it. This means that even charms whose performance required literacy could have been used by illiterate patients. Indeed, most charm instructions suggest that the person who performed the charm was separate from the patient, whether the words were to be spoken or written. There are only rare cases in which the performer and the patient appear to have been the same. One of the clearest examples is a thirteenth­century childbirth charm that exhorts “Deleuere me of mine childe,” a clear indication that the woman in labor would say the charm herself.35 The original composer of a charm, the charm practitioners, and the patients on whom the charm was used may all have had different levels of literacy and different forms of participation in the “great” and “little” traditions of their societies. Some aspects of charm culture must stem from, or be influenced by, the “great” tradition of the educated and literate. One obvious example is the use of Greek, even in corrupt form, in periods when Greek learning would have been restricted to a small number of highly educated readers.36 Sometimes the charm practitioner had to copy texts using the Greek al­ phabet, while in other cases he or she was instructed to say Greek phrases aloud.37 Users could doubtless have repeated or copied the words without 35. Bodleian Library, MS Ashmole 1280, fol. 192v. This charm is discussed in more detail in chapter 3. 36. Greek learning was present among the educated elite in eighth-century England, but declined thereafter. Scholars with some knowledge of Greek included Aldhelm, bishop of Sherborne; Tobias, bishop of Rochester; the Venerable Bede; and Alcuin of York: see J. Rawson Lumby, Greek Learning in the Western Church during the Seventh and Eighth Centuries, A.D. (Cambridge, 1878), 11– 15. For the later medieval period, Roberto Weiss, “The Study of Greek in England during the Fourteenth Century,” Rinascimento 2 (1951): 239, summarizes the level of Greek as “dismal.” 37. For example, the Greek prayer “Hagios ho Theos, Hagios ischyros, Hagios athanatos, eleeson hemas” (Holy God, Holy Mighty, Holy Immortal, have mercy on us) appears in charms found in Lincoln Cathedral Library, MS 91, fol. 306v; and British Library, Egerton MS 833, fol. 12v, and Sloane MS 431, fol. 18r. The phrase “Stomen kalos, stomen meta phobou” (Let us stand seemly, let us stand in awe) can be found in charms in Durham Cathedral Library, MS Hunter 100, fol. 188r; and Oxford, St. John’s College, MS 17, fol. 175r, and Bodleian Library, MS Hatton 20, fol. 98v (see box 3.2). The late eighth- or early ninth-century manuscript British Library, Royal MS 2 A xx contains three charms that make use of Greek, on fols. 45v and 49v (two examples). For more on the charm in MS Hatton 20, see Daniel Anlezark, “An Unnoticed Medical Charm in Manuscript Oxford, Bodleian Library Hatton 20,” Notes and Queries 64, no. 1 (2017): 3– 5.

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understanding their meaning, but the composers of the charms, at least, must have had some access to the “great” tradition. The charms therefore reflect some awareness of a literary culture that was inaccessible to all but the highly educated, as well as the desire to harness its prestige. Similarly, as I argue in chapter 3, some written charms have no semantic meaning but borrow the appearance of heavily abbreviated texts that might be read by the educated. In these cases, the “great” tradition also influences the “little” one, because it provides the visual and verbal cues through which the charms convey their power. During the roughly seven centuries covered by this book, literacy in England increased substantially. The average person’s perception of the power of written words presumably changed along with it. For someone who cannot read and has no understanding of how reading works, there is no clear connection between the letters on the page and the sounds or meanings those letters convey. Someone with a little more skill in reading might be able to decipher some or all of the letters but not the meaning of the text. A fluent reader, meanwhile, would be able to read the words aloud, but might or might not understand the language in which they were written. Each of these imagined readers understands more clearly than the last the relationship between written letters and the meanings they communicate. The chronological organization of the central section of this book aims to illuminate how the use of written words as conduits or providers of healing power changed as increasing numbers of people came to un­ derstand this relationship. Broadly speaking, two major shifts occurred. First, there appears to have been a substantial increase in the proportion of written charms recorded in the post­Conquest period, possibly due to new cultural influences. Second, late medieval charm instructions are more concerned with secrecy, perhaps reflecting a larger audience of liter­ ate users who might misuse the texts of charms or disseminate texts that charmers preferred to keep to themselves. I explore these developments in detail in chapters 3 and 4.

Charms: Objections, Definitions, and Distinctions Although charms were sometimes criticized or condemned, the practice of charming was also seen as central to medieval medical practice. It was not merely a last resort for people without access to other forms of medical care or for people whose diseases could not be cured using other treat­ ments available at the time. Indeed, charms could be the first resort for patients, as in one remedy that promises “to stanche blood withouten

12

Introduction

charme whan a master vayne ys for koruen and wol nat gladly stanche with charme.”38 The major role charms played in medieval medicine is vividly apparent in the illustrated history of medicine in one fifteenth­century copy of the works of the English surgeon John Arderne (d. in or after 1377).39 Ink drawings, arranged in tiers, introduce the reader to key medical advances: Aesculapius, the Graeco­Roman god of medicine, hands a bowl of medi­ cine to a patient, teaches men to gather medicinal roots and herbs, holds a scale to explain the importance of measurements and quantities, and makes complex medicines with a pestle and mortar. The series ends with Hippocrates and Galen, depicted on either side of an ornate table covered with pots and jars. The caption indicates that they discovered “certeyne quantitez in reseyuyng,” perhaps an error for the “qualitez” of humoral medicine (fig. 0.1). The verso of the leaf on which these images appear has been reproduced several times.40 However, it is the very first image in the series, on the recto, that is the most intriguing for the study of charms. At the bottom of the recto of the manuscript leaf is a depiction of Apollo, whom the highly influential Isidore of Seville called the “author and discoverer of the art of medicine.”41 Isidore associated Apollo’s school of medicine with “remedies and charms,” but here the herbal remedies are ignored and only charms are depicted (fig. 0.2).42 Apollo sits on an elaborate throne, gesturing with his right hand toward a book held open in his left. In front of him, three men, eyes gently closed, stand at a strange di­ agonal that seems to represent a state of trance. The caption reads, “Apolo helyd men with chermez ⁊ inschantementez.” A different hand has labeled 38. New Haven, Yale Center for British Art, R486 .M43 1450, fol. 7r. 39. British Library, Sloane MS 6, fol. 175r– v. 40. For example, in John Arderne, Treatises of Fistula in Ano: Haemorrhoids, and Clysters, EETS OS 139, ed. D’Arcy Power (London: Richard Clay & Sons, 1910; Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1968), 99, plate iv; and D’Arcy Power and James Paget, eds., Memorials of the Craft of Surgery in England (London: Cassell and Company, 1886), 44. 41. “Medicinae . . . artis auctor ac repertor.” Isidore of Seville, Isidori Hispalensis episcopi Etymologiarum sive Originum libri XX, ed. W. M. Lindsay (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1911), 1:IV.iii; Jamie C. Fumo, The Legacy of Apollo: Antiquity, Authority, and Chaucerian Poetics (Toronto: University of Toronto Press, 2010), 73. The translations from this section of Isidore’s Etymologies are from Stephen A. Barney et al., The Etymologies of Isidore of Seville (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2006), 109. 42. “Remedia sectatur et carmina” (advocates remedies and charms). Isidore of Seville, Etymologiarum, 1:IV.iv; trans. Barney et al., Etymologies, 109.

Fig. 0.1 British Library, Sloane MS 6, fol. 175v. The image captions read, in the first tier, “. . . ⁊ resonable gouernance of law ⁊ of lywyng,” in the second, “Esculapius helyd men with fermcis [i.e., pharmacies] ⁊ medicinez” and “Aschepius taught to gedere rotes ⁊ herbez flourrez ⁊ frotez,” and in the third, “Asclepius schewed mesures ⁊ quantites weghtez ⁊ wases,” “Asclepius techeþ to mak pulueres confeccionis ⁊ electuaries,” and “Ypocras ⁊ galen scheweþ certeyne quantitez in reseyuyng.” Photograph: © The British Library Board.

14

Introduction

Fig. 0.2 British Library, Sloane MS 6, fol. 175r. Photograph: © The British Library Board.

the image further, writing “apolo” across Apollo’s chest. On the pages of Apollo’s book, this hand has written, disapprovingly, “þe booke deuill,” presumably meaning that the book itself is devilish. This series of images emphasizes that charms and enchantments form the very origins of medical practice, depicting them as the key innovation of medicine’s founder. For this artist, medicine begins with magic. It also appears, in this series, that medicine begins with a book. Although the second image in the series also shows a practitioner holding a book, that figure’s book rests in his lap while his eyes and gesturing hand engage his patient.43 In this first image, on the other hand, Apollo’s book is apparently in active use, held between himself and his patients. The book was also the focus of the later reader’s particular objections: only the book, presum­ ably along with the texts the reader imagined it to contain, was labeled as devilish. This drawing therefore encapsulates themes that recur through­ out my study: the important position of charms within medical practice, their reliance on written or spoken words, and the religious tensions that surrounded their use. Although writers often opposed the use of charms on religious grounds, 43. The first line of text in this inscription has been trimmed away, so the figure remains unidentified. Based on the shape and spacing of the surviving descenders at the beginning of the caption, I believe him to be identified as “Aschepius,” but this obviously cannot be confirmed.

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the definition of charming was not always stable. The fourteenth­century Lollard Apology for Lollard Doctrines, for example, condemns people who gather herbs while saying “ani charme but þe pater noster, or þe crede.”44 The author considers the Pater Noster and Creed acceptable for use in gathering rituals, but he nevertheless appears to place them under the cat­ egory of “charme” when they are used for that purpose. Elsewhere within the same text, he argues that charms necessarily act against the will of God, stating that charms are þat are brout in bi fendis curst, and bi stering of fendis, aȝen þe bidding of God, and also be mannis vanite and foly, wiþ out ground of God Almiȝti, and in wilk men trystun of help wiþ outun him, and oftun aȝen as ȝeþun and vnfeiþful don; þus we callid charmers þo þat wil bi þer curst haue a þing þow it plece not God. And þis schewiþ what is a charme, weþer it be charme maad or writun, or þe wirking of þe charmar.45

What identifies a charm here is not its external presentation, but the in­ visible mechanism of its power and its use in opposition to God’s plan. Given the fact that commentators’ views of what a charm is depend on circumstance and perception as well as on the practice itself, the question of how to define a charm requires some elaboration. The English word charm and the French charme derive from the Latin carmen, meaning “song” or “incantation.”46 Although the Latin meaning emphasizes oral performance, by the end of the Middle Ages the terms charm, charme, and carmen could all be used to refer to words that had to be written down in order to transmit their power. Spoken charms might also be called an incantation or adjuration, while written charms might be described as a writ or breve. The word charm, therefore, could be used as an umbrella term encompassing both spoken and written words, while other terms might be used to distinguish between efficacious text and speech. For the purposes of this study, I consider charms to be written texts or spoken words presented as having a specific practical outcome associated with their enactment, of which the most common forms were recitation 44. James Henthorn Todd, ed., An Apology for Lollard Doctrines, Attributed to Wicliffe (London: Camden Society, 1842), 93. 45. Todd, Apology, 95. 46. OED Online, s. v. “charm, n.1.”

Box 0.1 Selected Charms Claiming to Function through the Grace of God British LiBrary, sLoane Ms 1314, foL. 37r– v (ca. 1350– 1400) Forto wyte ȝyf amon schal lyf þat ys seke Take .v. croppes of verueyne in þi ryht honde ⁊ ley hem in lyft honde ⁊ sey ouer hem fyue Pater nosters in þe worschyp of þe .v. woundes of + cryst ⁊ sey þus. I. coniur ȝou croppes fyue in þe vertu of þe .v. woundes of + crist þat he suffred on þe rode tre forto bring mannes soule out of thraldam þat þe man þat is seke telle me þe sothe þorouhe þe vertu of god ⁊ of ȝou. wheþer he schal lyf or dye of þat seknesse ⁊ blesse hym .v. tymes ⁊ take hem þen in þi ryht hande ageyn ⁊ go to þe seke ⁊ take his ryht hande in þin ⁊ aske hym howe he fares whil þe herbes arn betwene þat he wot not ⁊ howe he hopes of hym self ⁊ he schal þorouhe þe grace of god ⁊ þe vertu of þe verueyne telle þe sothe sikerly.

caMBridge, MagdaLene coLLege, PePys Ms 1661, PP. 82– 83 (ca. 1400– 1450) ¶ And of þe praptike of almagest an experiment y preued thow we ne lyȝe no fey þer to as vs semeþ more þat it be whycchecraft þanne wele dom of ony redy man and one þer of is with þe which þer haue y be many y heled tak þis experiment to þe festre preued. ¶ Take a staf and whenne þu by gynnest to enchauntye sey Pater noster to þe ende and In nomine patris et filii et spiritus sancti amen. and ȝif þu be wiþ inne house throwe þe staf out at þe wyndowe and ȝif þu be in a courte þrowe þe staf ouere þe ȝate bote loke þat þu þrowe it noȝt al ouer þanne go to þe place þer egermoyne groweþ and or euere þu dygeþ it vp þat þere by leue noþing in þe erthe of þe rote turne to þe est and whenne þu drawest vp þe rote hast done sey pater noster a noon to set libera nos and whenne þu drawest vp þe rote with þe leues þanne take þre partyes or ii. parties of þe ouerere and on of þe neþere ⁊ whanne þu takest þe neþer partye sey þis word poynt ȝemon ȝeberam ȝaual abnari paraclitus and whenne þu takest þe ouerere partie sey pecor ȝemon wiþ alle þat oþer wordes out take poynt and þese iij. parties on newe linene cloþ euery partye be hym selue on þre knottis of þe cloþ and euery partie on his owne knotte fram euery oþer and bynde þe cloþ with summe þred seynge on on euery knotte Pater noster and wiþ inne ix dayes aȝeyn

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Box 0.1 (continued) sey al þe experiment and so with grace of god þe pacient schal be delyuered.

durhaM university LiBrary, Ms cosin v.v.13 , foLs. 24v– 25r (ca. 1475– 1500) for a woman that travils with chylde wryte thys ⁊ ley it on hyr wombe Maria peperit christum Anna mariam Elizabeth Johannem O Alma remigium O And yeve hir to drynke diteyne or ysoppe with warme water ⁊ she shall be deliuer Anon with þe grace of god.

(performance in speech) and writing (words being physically inscribed on some receptive surface). I consider texts with a primarily or purely devotional purpose to be prayers. However, as I discuss below, the di­ viding line between charms and prayers is by no means straightforward. Even in cases where texts clearly seem to function as charms, promising specific practical outcomes, they frequently refer to divine power. For ex­ ample, a small number of texts that I classify as charms include a clause stating that they will only be effective with the grace of God (box 0.1). This brings the charm securely into a Christian worldview in which God holds ultimate power, but it does not alter the link between a performance involving specific words and an expected physical outcome. The overall situation is further complicated by the fact that medieval Christians be­ lieved God to have imbued natural things such as plants, stones, and words with hidden properties. These properties included healing and protective powers that could be activated without direct divine intervention. Charms might therefore be seen to work simultaneously through God’s power and through the natural properties with which he imbued his creation. An ex­ ample of this can be seen in one method of prognostication that claims to function “þorw þe grace of god and þe verueyne.”47 47. Wellcome Library, MS 542, fol. 10v. Some charms also refer directly to the power placed in words, stones, and herbs. See, for example, the fifteenth-century veterinary charms in Cambridge University Library, MS Dd.4.44, fols. 7r and 34v.

18

Introduction

Speech and writing, the two methods of accessing the perceived power of words, present different problems for researchers. All the spo­ ken charms I discuss are in some sense also written charms in that they necessarily have survived to the present day in written form. My evidence is therefore the product of literate people recording practices that also circulated orally. As the spoken performance of a charm is a temporary and transient phenomenon, written texts are the only records of medieval spoken charms that we can possibly have. However, just as a cake recipe is not a cake, a written instruction for using a charm is not actually a charm. The term written charm, as I use it here, refers not to written charm in­ structions but to a charm whose efficacious words must be written down in order for the charm to perform its function. Two examples will serve to demonstrate the distinction between the use of powerful words in written and spoken charms. First, let us consider a fifteenth­century charm that compares the flowing of the River Jordan, in which Christ was baptized, to the flowing of the patient’s blood: Ihesu þat was in bedlem born ⁊ baptizid was in flom Iordon ⁊ stynte þe water up on þe ston. stynte þe blod of þis man .N. þi seruaunt þurh vertu of þin holi name Ihesu ⁊ of seynt Jon And sey þis charm fiue tymes with .v. pater nostris in worchep of þe five woundys.48

Although this text is found in written form in a manuscript, the charm it describes does not involve writing. To perform the charm, the practitioner must “sey” the words of the charm five times, along with five Pater Nosters. The powerful words of this charm are activated solely through speech, making it— according to my terminology— a spoken charm. By contrast, I consider the following text to record a written charm: Medicines to chikenes þat þey ne deien. Write þe pater noster. on a brede oþer on parchemin ⁊ wasche of with water. and ȝif þe gose. chikenes oþer þe henne chickenes. to drinken þere of. ar. þei drinken. ony oþer drinken.49

In this case, the performance of the charm involves writing a series of efficacious words— here, the Pater Noster— onto bread or parchment. No words need to be spoken. Instead, the power of the Pater Noster is transmitted to the avian patients through its material nature as a text. The 48. Bodleian Library, MS Douce 87, fol. 33v. 49. Cambridge, Magdalene College, Pepys MS 878, p. 102.

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ink, washed into the chickens’ water, physically carries the beneficial prop­ erties of the words into the medicine. In a written charm, therefore, the process of writing is integral to the performance of the charm. The text, like the bread or the water, is an ingredient in the recipe and does not have to be read, either aloud or silently, in order to work. Whether the text should be eaten, dissolved, worn, or written directly onto the body, the patient’s interaction with the words goes beyond reading. Instructions for written charms therefore contain two types of text: the text of the instructions themselves, which will be read and understood in the usual fashion, and the efficacious text, which will be copied and used in some other way. Some efficacious texts take the form of “textual amulets,” a for­ mulation that Don C. Skemer uses to denote a “brief apotropaic text . . . , handwritten or mechanically printed on separate sheets, rolls, and scraps of parchment, paper, or other flexible writing supports of varying dimen­ sions.”50 I use the term to refer to a written text thought to bring protection when held or carried. Other written charms might expect their texts to be eaten or drunk or written directly onto the body rather than being worn or carried as an amulet. In some cases, the powerful words of charms are recorded without instructions, and so with no clear indication as to whether they should be spoken or written. I have always presumed that these charms were in­ tended to be spoken.51 This is because spoken charms are the most com­ mon type, and the type that requires the least skill or resources to perform. In counting ambiguous charms as spoken charms, I imagine that the prac­ titioner would have assumed, in the absence of other information, that the recipe should be performed in the simplest way possible. Written charms may therefore have been slightly more common than my work suggests, although it is also likely that the surviving textual record underestimates the use of spoken charms whose oral circulation leaves no trace. I will also occasionally refer to liturgical charms, which are a subset of spoken charms in which the words to be spoken consist of or include a Christian mass. Although many charms draw on liturgical language, these examples include the Mass’s entire ritual performance. We cannot over­ look the importance of the Mass as an expression of the church’s power: its words differ from spoken words of other kinds because of their reli­ gious significance and associated ceremony. As the power of the words in such charms is inseparable from the power of the church, I prefer to 50. Skemer, Binding Words, 1. 51. Not all scholars follow this practice. For example, Meaney, “Extra-Medical,” 52, counts ambiguous charms as both spoken and written.

Box 0.2 Selected Charms Incorporating Spoken, Written, and Liturgical Components york Minster LiBrary, Ms Xvi.e.32, foL. 4r (ca. 1380– 1420) Item Write þes names ⁊ lete hym bere aboute his necke In nomine patris ⁊ filii. ⁊ spiritus. sancti. amen + legue + begottam + Gereon + Gereon + Gamaton + pyon + bamy + Iasper + Melchesare + balthasar + adonay + Sabaot + emanuel + In nomine patris ⁊ filij ⁊ spiritus sancti Amen / et postea lege sirce eum euangelium Respondens vnus de turba dixit ad Ihesum et euangelium de sancto spiritu Siquis diligit me / ⁊ In principio erat verbum ⁊ ipse infirmus faciat cantare missam de sancto spiritu ⁊ ip[s]e debet frangere vnum panum in v. partes et dabit v pauperibus et dicat dum vix vixerit ter pater noster aue ⁊ credo quo[d]libet in nomine sancte trinitatis Another [for the falling evil]: write these names and let him carry them around his neck: “In the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit. Amen. + legue + begottam + Gereon + Gereon + Gamaton + pyon + bamy + Iasper + Melchesare + balthasar + adonay + Sabaot + emanuel + in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.” And afterward read around him the gospel “And one of the multitude, answering, said to Jesus” and the gospel concerning the Holy Spirit “If anyone love me,” and “In the beginning was the Word.” The sick man himself should have a mass of the Holy Spirit sung, and he himself should break a loaf into five parts and give it to five paupers, and he should say, when he is only just reviving, three Pater Nosters and an Ave and a Creed, anything whatever in the name of the Holy Trinity.

The instruction that the patient should say prayers “when he is only just reviving,” presumably from the seizure, should perhaps be interpreted to mean “when he first wakes up.” That instruction would parallel the requirement that the patient bless himself when he gets up each morning, recorded in charms against the falling sickness in Lincoln Cathedral Library, MS 88, fol. 129v; British Library, Sloane MS 1314, fol. 38v; and Wellcome Library, MS 542, fol. 13v, among others.

BodLeian LiBrary, Ms douce 84, foL. 19r– v (ca. 1400– 1450) Medicine for þe falling euyl Tak vij candelis of wex of vij enche long of good grece ⁊ let wryte þe vij dayes in þe wyke in euerich candel

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Box 0.2 (continued) on ⁊ lat syng iiij messes on of þe trinite ⁊ on of þe holygost ⁊ on of oure lady ⁊ on of alle halwene ⁊ lat þe man þat haþ þat euyl holde þe candelys in his hond brennyng at alle foure messes ⁊ loke þat he be clene of lyf ⁊ wanne alle þese iiij messes ben y do he schal offre vp his candelyn ylyȝte to þe prest wanne þe laste messe is y do. ⁊ þanne schal þilke syke falle doun to þe erþe plat ⁊ þanne schal þe prest sygge ouer hym .iiij. gospelis of þe iiij euangelistis with þe candelyn brennynge ⁊ þanne sodeynlich on avised þe prest schal take on of þilke candelis to þe sike þanne what day of þe wyke is y wret in þat candel þe syke schal faste bred ⁊ water wyle he lyfyt ⁊ ȝyf he breke þat day he schal haue it aȝen with oute remedie

BodLeian LiBrary, Ms ashMoLe 1447, Part 2, P. 29 (ca. 1460– 1520) for the feverys Take a sage leue ⁊ wret þer on christus tonat and say a pater noster ⁊ a nave and a crede and þe the ij day angelus nunciat and the iij day þe same iij mascys on of þe holy gost and a noþer of Synt mechell and another of Sy[n]t John baptyst.

The Latin words of the charm can be translated as “Christ thunders” and “the angel announces.”

consider charms that draw on the Mass separately. However, these meth­ ods of using efficacious words— written, spoken, and liturgical— are not mutually exclusive. It is not uncommon for charms to feature both spoken and written words, or, more rarely, to combine the words spoken during the performance of the Mass with other spoken words. Some charms even use all three (box 0.2). Charms use the power of the Christian church not only in their in­ corporation of liturgical phrases or performances but also in their use of prayer. In many cases the distinction between charm and prayer is prob­ lematic, for in its more practical applications a prayer can be very similar to a charm. A farmer might pray for his horse to be restored to health or utter a spoken charm to achieve that same end. When powerful words are

22

Introduction

written down in the form of written charms and textual amulets, the dif­ ficulty of distinguishing between a charm and a prayer is mitigated by the assumption that the written text will be effective in its own right, without the practitioner having to read, understand, or perform it. When powerful words are meant to be spoken, however, prayers and charms are less easy to separate. Attempts to draw a clear line between charms and prayers are related to attempts to divide magic from religion, a topic that has been the subject of debate and discussion among modern scholars since the nineteenth century, most notably in the work of James Frazer and Bronislaw Ma­ linowski.52 The theoretical distinctions between magic and religion do not, however, adequately reflect the complexities of medieval practice. For example, one common distinction between the two sees magic as a mechanical process that— if performed correctly— will work without fail. Religion, on the other hand, is seen as placing humans in a position of dependence on the divine. Prayers, therefore, are supplications to God that have no guarantee of success.53 This distinction has long been rejected as overly simplistic: Keith Thomas argues in Religion and the Decline of Magic that while the church taught that prayers were not guaranteed to bring results, in reality it encouraged the idea that repetition of holy words could have practical efficacy.54 In cases where prayers were intended for use in a specific circumstance and accompanied by particular ritual actions, the distinction between 52. James George Frazer, The Golden Bough: A Study in Magic and Religion, 3rd ed., 12 vols. (London: Macmillan / New York: St. Martin’s Press, 1966); Bronislaw Malinowski, Magic, Science and Religion, and Other Essays (Garden City, NY: Doubleday, 1954). More recent studies of the distinction between religion and magic include Stanley J. Tambiah, Magic, Science, Religion, and the Scope of Rationality (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1990); Keith Thomas, Religion and the Decline of Magic: Studies in Popular Beliefs in Sixteenth- and Seventeenth-Century England (London: Penguin, 1991); Hildred Geertz, “An Anthropology of Religion and Magic, I,” Journal of Interdisciplinary History 6, no. 1 (Summer 1975): 71– 89; and H. S. Versnel, “Some Reflections on the Relationship Magic-Religion,” Numen 38, no. 2 (December 1991): 177– 97. Discussions of the question in relation to medieval Europe specifically include Michael D. Bailey, Fearful Spirits, Reasoned Follies: The Boundaries of Superstition in Late Medieval Europe (Ithaca, NY: Cornell University Press, 2013), esp. 24– 27, and “The Disenchantment of Magic: Spells, Charms, and Superstition in Early European Witchcraft Literature,” American Historical Review 111, no. 2 (2006): 383– 404; and Catherine Rider, Magic and Religion in Medieval England (London: Reaktion Books, 2012). 53. See, for instance, Versnel, “Magic-Religion,” 178. 54. Thomas, Decline of Magic, 46– 48.

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prayer and charm may have been “a matter of degree rather than of kind,” with no firm boundary between the two.55 In borderline cases, the practi­ tioner’s personal interpretation of the text, its purpose, and the certainty of its outcome may have determined which of the two it was considered to be. In ambiguous situations I have relied on the manuscript context for information about how medieval scribes and readers viewed particular texts. I usually exclude any performance not associated with a specific practical purpose.56 I tend to designate as charms ambiguous texts that appear within collections of medical recipes, whereas I am more likely to consider a similar ambiguous text within a collection of devotional works to be a prayer. In this way, I attempt to draw upon the apparent intentions of the manuscript compiler when considering how to classify a text. While for spoken charms there is ambiguity between charms and prayers, for written charms there is ambiguity between text and symbol. Here, I have decided that where the only inscribed element of a charm is a cross, it should not count as a written charm (box 0.3). The cross is a Christian symbol on whose religious connotations charms often rely. Although charm users are sometimes instructed to write crosses, these function as symbols of the ritual action of blessing rather than as texts that could potentially be read. However, I consider that charms that instruct their users to write a series of nonalphabetic symbols or characters do use written texts. Even though the characters have no recognizable meaning outside their charm context, and even though they are not legible to any ordinary reader, the fact that the charms present them as text defines them as text. I discuss this in more detail in chapter 3. Inscriptions on objects present further problems of classification, for they often have little context that might explain their purpose, and many are deliberately illegible or indecipherable. A full study of magical, protec­ tive, or healing inscriptions on medieval objects is beyond the scope of this book, and so I have addressed inscribed objects only when they are closely related to the manuscript recipes that are the primary focus of this work.57 55. R. M. Liuzza, “Prayers and/or Charms Addressed to the Cross,” in Cross and Culture in Anglo-Saxon England: Studies in Honor of George Hardin Brown, ed. Karen Louise Jolly, Catherine E. Karkov, and Sarah Larratt Keefer (Morgantown: West Virginia University Press, 2007), 295. 56. Exceptions are usually cases in which a text that is recognizably a charm starts imperfectly and therefore omits the heading that identifies its purpose, as in Bodleian Library, MS Ashmole 1447, part 1, p. 1. 57. For studies that do address inscribed objects see, for example, Skemer, Binding Words; Roberta Gilchrist, “Magic for the Dead? The Archaeology of Magic in Later Medieval Burials,” Medieval Archaeology 52, no. 1 (2008): 119– 59; Mindy MacLeod and

Box 0.3 A Charm for Wounds durhaM university LiBrary, Ms cosin v.iii.10, foL. 30r (ca. 1450– 1500) To make a plate of ledde to hele ech maner of wondes ⁊ thus shal the plate be made iiij iiij square ⁊ in ech corner acrosse ⁊ ⁊ in the myddell anoþer ⁊ at the makyng of ech crosse say a pater noster vnto panem nostrum ⁊ in the drawyng from panem nostrum say it al ovte ⁊ so do at the makyng of ech crosse so þat it be pater nosteris with .v. aveis. in the honoure of oure lord Ihesu Criste ⁊ his .v. woundes þat he sufferd on the Rode tre ⁊ say this oryson ouer the plate. Vvlnera quinque dei sint medisina mei sint medisina mei tua Crux. passio christi. the say þis orison Swete Ihesu as verraly as thov sufferst .v. wondes in thi holy body for us. synners as verraly be thy servante .N. hole of this sekenesse ⁊ of al oþer. in the name of the fader ⁊ the son ⁊ the holy goost Amen and say v pater nosteris ⁊ v aveis ⁊ a crede ⁊ loke þat þi plate tovch not the erth after þi blissyng ⁊ ley it on the wonde ⁊ remeve it not in iij dayes and after iij dayes take the juse of Red cole ⁊ wassh the wounde þer with ⁊ wype ⁊ wype god plate ⁊ ley it on ayen ⁊ after þat remeve the plate ⁊ wype it ⁊ ley it on ayen with oute wasshyng ⁊ at ech tyme thow ⁊ the seke say .v. pater nosteris .v. aveis ⁊ credo in honour ⁊ worship of cristes v wondes ⁊ yef it fall ⁊ tovch the erthe charme it ayen ⁊ ley it on the sore ⁊ do so tyl it be hole.

The charm is illustrated with a picture of the lead plate with crosses drawn onto it. Charms that use lead plates inscribed with crosses to treat wounds, along with a range of incantations, are common. Examples appear in Cambridge, Corpus Christi College, MSS 388, fols. 29v and 31v, and 405, vol. 4, fol. 124r, and Magdalene College, Pepys MS 878, pp. 154– 55; Columbia, University of Missouri, Ellis Library, Fragmenta Manuscripta 175, fol. 1v; Durham University Library, MS Cosin V.III.11, fol. 77v; British Library, Additional MS 15236, fols. 31v– 32v; Sloane MSS 431, fols. 9v– 10r, and 3466, fol. 55r– v; Bodleian Library, MS Bodley 761, fol. 21r; and York Minster Library, MS XVI.E.32, fols. 128v– 29r and 144r– 45r.

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The Evidence for Charm Practices This book is primarily concerned with written and spoken words that were expected to have a physical effect on the world. Although some medieval artifacts bearing efficacious texts survive, efficacious spoken words can only be preserved in the form of manuscript instructions for how they should be performed. Such instructions also give insight into uses of protective or healing texts for which no physical evidence can re­ main: texts intended to be consumed by the patient, for example, or texts written onto impermanent materials such as leaves or the patient’s own skin. Manuscript instructions to charm practitioners permit the study of aspects of medieval charm culture that would otherwise be inacces­ sible. As I am interested in changes in the use and circulation of verbal charms, both spoken and written, such instructions form the bulk of my evidence.58 My focus on manuscript instructions separates my work from that of Don C. Skemer, whose book Binding Words: Textual Amulets in the Middle Ages was the first book­length survey of textual amulets and one of the most immediate inspirations for my own research. Skemer draws on sur­ viving textual amulets from western Europe between the thirteenth and the fifteenth centuries, although he also considers ancient uses of amulets and includes manuscripts from as late as the seventeenth century. Exist­ ing medieval artifacts such as the ones he examines can be localized and dated and may contain evidence about their early users. Collections of charm instructions and medical remedies, on the other hand, could be copied wholesale without their individual recipes ever being put to use. However, there are strong reasons to believe that the charms recorded in medieval manuscripts were part of actual practice. Charms appear in medical books compiled by named surgeons and physicians, suggesting that those practitioners saw their value and included them by choice.59 Bernard Mees, Runic Amulets and Magic Objects (Woodbridge, UK: Boydell Press, 2006); Audrey L. Meaney, Anglo-Saxon Amulets and Curing Stones (Oxford: British Archaeological Reports, 1981); Joan Evans, Magical Jewels of the Middle Ages and the Renaissance, Particularly in England (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1922). 58. There are of course surviving amulets that do not make use of text and that are therefore beyond the scope of this study. See, for example, Meaney, Amulets and Curing Stones; Peter Murray Jones, “Amulets: Prescriptions and Surviving Objects from Late Medieval England,” in Beyond Pilgrim Souvenirs and Secular Badges: Essays in Honour of Brian Spencer, ed. Sarah Blick (Oxford: Oxbow Books, 2007), 92– 107; Gilchrist, “Magic for the Dead,” 119– 59. 59. Olsan, “Charms and Prayers,” 343– 66.

26

Introduction

Even more convincingly, charm­recipes often appear not as part of larger compendia but as individual recipes added to the margins or flyleaves of books. In these cases, medieval readers evidently chose the charms they recorded. Some of these charm­types even survived in oral circulation until the twentieth century, providing further evidence of a thriving tra­ dition.60 While written instructions cannot provide direct evidence of use or evidence of the oral circulation of charms, they can reveal the chang­ ing repertoire of charms, both spoken and written, available to readers in medieval England. Since I am concerned with the perceived power of words in general, I have collected charm­texts regardless of their language. The inclusion of Anglo­French charms, in particular, allows me to draw together schol­ arship on the pre­Conquest period and on the late medieval period.61 It has previously been assumed that few charms were copied during the late twelfth and thirteenth centuries.62 When all the languages used in medieval England are considered, however, that assumption is overturned, revealing the continuous development of charm traditions. The manuscripts I have examined for this book range in date from the late eighth or early ninth centuries to the mid­fifteenth or early sixteenth centuries.63 Most were copied in England, but as I am concerned with the charms to which medieval readers would have had access, I have also occasionally included manuscripts with medieval English provenance that were written elsewhere. In order to avoid any distortion from pre­ vious scholars’ interests or definitions of charms, I have not included any charms for which I have not been able to examine the whole manuscript, unless otherwise noted. In some of the manuscripts, charms appear within the book’s original text; in others they are later additions. The dates of individual charm­copies may therefore differ from the dates of the manu­ 60. Roper, English Verbal Charms, notes records of the Flum Jordan charm-type from the fourteenth century to 1929 (p. 105) and the Super Petram charm-type from the tenth century to 1937 (pp. 122– 23), among others. 61. My work builds on the discussion of Anglo-French charms in Tony Hunt, Popular Medicine in Thirteenth-Century England: Introduction and Texts (Cambridge: D. S. Brewer, 1990). 62. T. M. Smallwood, “The Transmission of Charms in English, Medieval and Modern,” in Charms and Charming in Europe, ed. Jonathan Roper (New York: Palgrave Macmillan, 2004), 14– 15. 63. The earliest manuscript I have included is British Library, Royal MS 2 A xx, a decorated prayerbook linked to the Southumbrian prayerbooks known as the “Tiberius Group.” See Michelle P. Brown, “Mercian Manuscripts? The ‘Tiberius’ Group and Its Historical Context,” in Mercia: An Anglo-Saxon Kingdom in Europe, ed. Michelle P. Brown and Carol A. Farr (London: Leicester University Press, 2001), 281– 91.

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scripts that contain them. In determining the dates of charm­texts I have relied on manuscript catalogs and previous scholarship when possible, in conjunction with my own judgment. However, existing scholarship does not always address the dates of charm­texts specifically. In such cases I have made my own determination based on paleographic evidence and consultation with other scholars. The list of manuscripts potentially containing charm­texts is vast. Al­ though I have encountered written or spoken charms to stop babies from crying, to catch fish, and to create a candle that will burn forever, most charms that specify a desired physical outcome either provide protection or restore health.64 I have therefore focused on medical manuscripts, as well as on manuscripts already known to contain charms. In identifying relevant manuscripts, I have drawn upon on the invaluable and detailed archival work of other scholars. Helmut Gneuss and Michael Lapidge’s Anglo-Saxon Manuscripts: A Bibliographical Handlist was an essential guide to the manuscripts of the pre­Conquest period.65 The work of Ruth J. Dean and Richard Gameson illuminated the Anglo­Norman years.66 For all periods, but particularly for the later medieval period when medical and scientific texts were translated into English with some frequency, the Voigts­Kurtz database was critically important, as was the Thorndike­ Kibre database.67 I discovered further charm­copies by reading manu­ script catalogs, by following references in other works on charms, and 64. Charms to stop babies from crying appear in British Library, Sloane MS 431, fol. 44v, and Egerton MS 2433, fol. 35r. A charm to catch fish is recorded in Bethesda, MD, National Library of Medicine, MS E 32, fol. 7r, while a charm to create an everlasting candle can be found in British Library, Additional MS 12195, fol. 150v. 65. Helmut Gneuss and Michael Lapidge, Anglo-Saxon Manuscripts: A Bibliographical Handlist of Manuscripts and Manuscript Fragments Written or Owned in England up to 1100, Toronto Anglo-Saxon Series (Toronto: University of Toronto Press, 2014). 66. Ruth J. Dean, Anglo-Norman Literature: A Guide to Texts and Manuscripts, Occasional Publications Series 3 (London: A.N.T.S., 1999); Richard Gameson, The Manuscripts of Early Norman England (c. 1066– 1130) (Oxford: Oxford University Press for the British Academy, 2002). 67. The Voigts-Kurtz database of medical and scientific writing in Old and Middle English, eVK2, is available online at https://cctr1.umkc.edu/search. eVK2 is an expanded and revised version of Linda Ehrsam Voigts and Patricia Deery Kurtz, Scientific and Medical Writings in Old and Middle English: An Electronic Reference (Ann Arbor: University of Michigan Press, 2000), CD-ROM. The Thorndike-Kibre database of medieval scientific texts in Latin (eTK), is available alongside eVK2 at https://cctr1 .umkc.edu/search. eTK is based on Lynn Thorndike and Pearl Kibre, A Catalogue of Incipits of Mediaeval Scientific Writings in Latin (Cambridge, MA: Mediaeval Academy, 1963) and its supplements.

28

Introduction

from the advice of colleagues.68 While I have tried to select a representa­ tive sample of the surviving texts, there are undoubtedly many more texts still to be discovered. Although charm instructions can tell us what practices medieval people chose to record, they give less information on how people thought about the use of charms. Alongside the evidence of charm­recipes, I have there­ fore included the evidence of English and Anglo­French literary texts that depict the use of charms or recognizably use charm language. Their use of language inspired by the knowledge of charms demonstrates the extent to which charming pervaded medieval culture.

Conclusion While other scholars have considered both written and spoken charms, the distinction between them has rarely been a focus of study.69 When spoken and written charms are examined separately, however, profound differences become evident. Most strikingly, spoken charms commonly circulated in vernacular languages, while written charms almost invari­ ably used Latin or unknown words. Among the 435 written charms in my sample, only six— all of which are different versions of the same recipe— unambiguously ask for vernacular words to be written down, in all cases alongside Latin ones.70 Even though written charms in the 68. The bibliographies of Hunt, Popular Medicine; Skemer, Binding Words; Sheldon, “Middle English and Latin Charms”; and Mitchell, “Cultural Uses of Magic” were particularly helpful. 69. Charms might instead be divided by, for example, their motifs. See, among others, Eleonora Cianci, “Maria Lactans and the Three Good Brothers: The German Tradition of the Charm and Its Cultural Context,” Incantatio 2 (2012): 55– 70; Olsan, “Three Good Brothers,” 48– 78, and “Charms in Medieval Memory,” in Roper, Charms and Charming in Europe, 59– 88; Jonathan Roper, “Typologising English Charms,” in Roper, Charms and Charming in Europe, 128– 44; and T. M. Smallwood, “‘God Was Born in Bethlehem . . .’: The Tradition of a Middle English Charm,” Medium Ævum 58, no. 2 (1989): 206– 23. For a different sort of typology, see Edina Bozóky, “Mythic Mediation in Healing Incantations,” in Health, Disease and Healing in Medieval Culture, ed. Sheila Campbell, Bert Hall, and David Klausner (New York: St. Martin’s Press, 1991), 84– 92. For a study that does separate written and spoken charms, albeit for an earlier period, see David Frankfurter, “The Magic of Writing and the Writing of Magic: The Power of the Word in Egyptian and Greek Traditions,” Helios 21, no. 2 (1994): 189– 221. 70. This exception is a charm for a hawe in the eye, which appears in Cambridge University Library, MS Additional 9308, fols. 22v– 23r; British Library, Additional MS 33996, fol. 90r, and Sloane MS 1314, fol. 14r– v; Wellcome Library, MS 542, fol. 6r; Bodleian Library, MS Wood empt. 18, fol. 1r–v; and York Minster Library, MS XVI.E.32, fols. 158v– 59r. Although no examples appear in the selection of manuscripts

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Roman world seem to have developed as a way to impose permanence on spoken charms, that does not appear to have been the intention in medieval England.71 The distinction in the languages used also suggests a fundamental difference between the perceived power of Latin and ver­ nacular words and between that of words in speech and writing. This may be because medieval grammarians regarded the spoken form of a word as its primary, initial form, while writing was seen as recorded speech.72 Situated at a complex intersection between orality, textual materiality, and language, charms extend the boundaries of our knowledge of medi­ eval respect for the power of language and of the many forms that power could take. The written charms discussed here depend on interpretative processes that go far beyond the normal practice of reading as a way of ob­ taining information. Instead, their words were able to exert power without being read or understood, without being written in the letters of known alphabets, and after having been destroyed. As I show in the chapters that follow, deeply embedded within medieval culture was a belief in the efficacy of special words, even when they remained unseen or unspoken.

I examined for this book, I am also aware of nightmare charms that use written words in English. Examples of both are given in box 4.4. 71. Christopher A. Faraone, The Transformation of Greek Amulets in Roman Imperial Times (Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press, 2018), 178. 72. Martin Irvine, “Medieval Grammatical Theory and Chaucer’s House of Fame,” Speculum 60, no. 4 (October 1985): 870.

•

1

•

The Powers of Charm-Words and Relics The Gospels of Matthew, Mark, and Luke all describe the miraculous healing of a woman who has suffered for twelve years from an issue of blood that her doctors are powerless to cure.1 The woman, whom medie­ val tradition named Veronica, approaches Christ in a crowd and touches the hem of his garment, thinking, “If I shall touch but his garment, I shall be whole.”2 At the moment of contact, her bleeding ceases— a miracle that provided the basis for numerous medieval blood­staunching charms (box 1.1). At the same instant that Veronica is healed, Christ feels power flow from him and asks the crowd, “Who hath touched my garments?”3 As Barbara Baert notes, this moment of healing is unusual in that the woman, rather than Christ, initiates the touch and in that no skin­to­skin contact occurs.4 For Christians, the miracle demonstrates the sacred power that proceeds from Christ, suffusing his garments and possessions as well as his body. But Christ was not seen as the only source of such healing. Other holy bodies could also transfer power through contact, as when St. Paul’s touch rendered handkerchiefs and aprons capable of healing the people of Ephesus.5 The miracle of the woman healed of bleeding was just one of many in a long tradition that held that close proximity to, or physical contact with, 1. Matthew 9:19– 22, Mark 5:24– 34, and Luke 8:42–48. For an in-depth study of this moment, see Barbara Baert, ed., The Woman with the Blood Flow (Mark 5:24– 34): Narrative, Iconic, and Anthropological Spaces, Art & Religion 2 (Leuven and Walpole: Peeters, 2014). 2. Mark 5:28: “Quia si vel vestimentum eius tetigero, salva ero.” Here, as elsewhere in this volume, I have quoted in Latin from the Vulgate Bible. I quote in English from the Douay-Rheims translation. 3. Mark 5:30: “Quis tetigit vestimenta mea?” 4. Barbara Baert, “General Introduction,” in Baert, Woman with the Blood, 4– 5. 5. Baert, “General Introduction,” 5. Acts 19:12.

Box 1.1 Veronica Charms for Bleeding British LiBrary, additionaL Ms 15236, foL. 46r (ca. 1280– 1320) Item ad constringendum sanguinem de vena infissa: Scribatur in fronte hominis veronica: ⁊ salvetur. Another to staunch blood from a cut vein: Let “veronica” be written on the man’s forehead, and he will be well.

caMBridge, corPus christi coLLege, Ms 388, foL. 12v (ca. 1320– 1330) Ad idem Item a sanck etstancher de playe ow de nes etscriues de le meme sanck en my le frount si il seit humme beronix e si il seit femme bironixa + Another for the same: to staunch blood from a wound or from the nose, write in the same blood in the middle of the forehead “beronix” if it is a man and “beronixa” if a woman +

Beinecke rare Book & ManuscriPt LiBrary, takaMiya Ms 46, foL. 38r (ca. 1400– 1425) Ad fluxum sanguinis. Ad fluxum sanguinis accipe de sanguine eius cum pollice dicens. In nomine patris ⁊ filij ⁊ spiritus sancti amen. Postea cum sanguine eius in fronte fac signum crucis dicens. beronix cessa sanguis. si sit femina dices beronixa asperasis + ⁊ dic Pater noster ⁊ Aue iij vsque in finem ⁊ sine dubio cessabit sanguis. For flowing of blood. For flowing of blood take from his blood with your thumb, saying “In the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit, amen.” Afterward make the sign of the cross with his blood on his forehead, saying “Beronix: stop, blood.” If it is a woman, say “Beronixa: become rough” and say a Pater Noster and three Aves to the end, and without doubt the blood will cease.

My translation of asperasis as “become rough” is uncertain. The two copies of the charm I have seen— here and in British Library, Additional MS 17866, fol. 41r— are clearly related. Both divide words consistently, and both show this

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Box 1.1 (continued ) as a single word. However, I have not found any attestations of asperasis and have therefore treated it as two words, translating aspera as “rough.” This may perhaps refer to the rough scab that should form over the wound: the phrase commands the blood to coagulate. Other blood-staunching charms that reference the name of Veronica appear in British Library, Additional MS 33996, fols. 133r, 149r, and 151r; Egerton MS 833, fol. 14r; Harley MS 2380, fol. 69r; Royal MS 2 A xx, fol. 49v (two examples); and Sloane MSS 431, fols. 2r, 13r, 13v, and 45r; and 3466, fols. 57r– 58r; Bodleian Library, MS Digby 86, fol. 15r; and York Minster Library, MS XVI.E.32, fol. 59r.

the sacred could heal the sick. Medieval patients who desired relief from illness accordingly turned both to medical practitioners and to holy relics. As R. C. Finucane’s pioneering study of miracle healings in medieval En­ gland demonstrates, patients might rely on a combination of secular and religious treatments. Finucane argues: For most people their “illness behaviour” . . . depended upon a multitude of things such as their social status and wealth, availability of doctors or shrines, type of illness involved and their attitudes toward saints and surgeons or medici. The sufferer might use both sacred and profane remedies since for him the end and not the means was of greatest importance.6

As they sought to access the healing power of the divine, medieval patients drew on a wide variety of sacred materials. The relics of the saints might take a range of forms. They could be the actual remains of the saint’s body or items such as the saint’s clothes, possessions, or instruments of martyrdom. The lowest category of relic was the contact relic, a physical object— often a piece of cloth known as a brandeum— that had touched a relic and been sanctified by contact.7 Mir­ 6. R. C. Finucane, Miracles and Pilgrims: Popular Beliefs in Medieval England (London, Melbourne, and Toronto: J. M. Dent & Sons Ltd, 1977), 69. 7. Eugene A. Dooley, Church Law on Sacred Relics, The Catholic University of America Canon Law Studies 70 (Washington, DC: Catholic University of America, 1931), 3–4.

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acles of healing were reputed to have occurred through relics of all kinds: St. Augustine, for example, describes patients cured not only by the bodily remains of the saints but also by oil mixed with a priest’s tears, by flowers carried by a bishop, and by earth brought from Jerusalem.8 In the later Middle Ages, healing or protective power could be attributed not just to relics and contact relics but also to images, measurements, sacramentals, and, in one blessing from late fifteenth­century Breslau, even to correctly prepared radishes.9 As Caroline Walker Bynum’s work on medieval ma­ teriality emphasizes, body and matter were easily conflated, as were object and image.10 Relics, images, and the Eucharist were all treated with similar reverence and in similar ways, with measurements and images sometimes acting as contact relics.11 In this chapter, I argue that charms, and written charms in particular, could also straddle the boundary between sacred and profane, acting both as earthly medicine and, sometimes, as conduits of spiritual power. The use of words for protection and healing was based on a long, pre­ Christian tradition of similar beliefs, from which Christian ideas about verbal charms developed. Don Skemer traces the ancestry of medieval appeals to the power of the written word to pre­Christian uses of text for magical assistance, physical protection, or medical care by diverse reli­ gious and linguistic groups in societies including Middle Kingdom Egypt (ca. 1900– 1800 BC), Ancient Greece, and the Roman Empire.12 Charm practices were based on assumptions that developed before Christianity and that can be observed in the healing practices of many disparate cul­ tures, but in medieval England, theories explaining the power of words were, of course, Christian­influenced.13 Charms were often prescribed 8. Augustine, Sancti Aurelii Augustini De Civitate Dei Libri XI-XXII, ed. Bernhard Dombart and Alfons Kalb, Corpus Christianorum Series Latina 48 (Turnhout: Brepols, 1955), XXII.viii, pp. 815– 27. 9. André Vauchez, “Les images saints: Représentations iconographiques et manifestations du sacré,” in Saints, prophètes et visionnaires: Le pouvoir surnaturel au moyen âge (Paris: Albin Michel, 1999), 79– 91; Caroline Walker Bynum, Christian Materiality: An Essay on Religion in Late Medieval Europe (New York: Zone Books, 2015), 98– 99, 145–48. 10. Bynum, Christian Materiality, 120. 11. Bynum, Christian Materiality, 99, 126– 27. 12. For an overview of pre-Christian examples of textual amulets and written charms, see Skemer, Binding Words, 23– 30. 13. On the charm practices of non-Christian cultures, see, for example, Stephan Peter Bumbacher, Empowered Writing: Exorcistic and Apotropaic Rituals in Medieval China (St. Petersburg, FL: Three Pines, 2012); Marvin Meyer and Paul Mirecki, eds., Ancient Magic and Ritual Power, Religions in the Graeco-Roman World 129

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by secular practitioners, but in the vast majority of cases, their power­ ful words refer explicitly to sacred figures and draw on Christian notions about the origins of supernatural power. They were fully integrated into standard forms of medical treatment, as is evident from their frequent appearance in books of medical recipes, but they were interpreted through Christian ideas about speech and writing as efficacious forces. This chapter deals primarily with written charms, meaning charms in which power was transmitted via the written word. Many charms that relied on powerful words, whether written or spoken, drew on ideas about power that were shaped by the Christian beliefs prevalent in England at the time. Medieval theologians did not discuss the efficacy of written charms in the detail with which they debated the efficacy of relics, but it is evident from the discussions they did leave that written texts and holy relics were imagined to transfer power to their medieval users in parallel ways.14 In this sense, my argument extends Bynum’s contention that material objects could represent the divine: not only might the faithful conflate images and sacramentals with relics, they might treat words in the same way.

Theorizing the Power of Words Although I argue below that charm­words might be used in ways that parallel relics, I do not mean to suggest that they were understood to be relics. Medieval writers occasionally discussed how spoken charms and efficacious texts functioned, debating whether particular elements of their material nature lent them extra power and whether the power these ob­ jects accessed was natural, divine, or demonic.15 Several brief examples reveal the explicit attitudes toward the power of written and spoken words (Leiden: E. J. Brill, 1995); Emilie Savage-Smith, ed., Magic and Divination in Early Islam (Aldershot: Ashgate, 2004); and Margaret Stutley, Ancient Indian Magic and Folklore: An Introduction (Delhi: Motilal Banarsidass, 1980). 14. The literature on medieval relics is voluminous. For a useful overview of how they were believed to operate, see Robert Bartlett, Why Can the Dead Do Such Great Things? Saints and Worshippers from the Martyrs to the Reformation (Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 2013), 239– 332. 15. See, for example, Charles Burnett, “The Theory and Practice of Powerful Words in Medieval Magical Texts,” in The Word in Medieval Logic, Theology and Psychology: Acts of the XIIIth International Colloquium of the Societé International pour l’Étude de la Philosophie Médiévale, Kyoto, 27 September−1 October 2005, ed. Tetsuro Shimizu and Charles Burnett, Rencontres de Philosophie Médiévale 14 (Turnhout: Brepols, 2009), 215– 31; Béatrice Delaurenti, La Puissance des mots: “Virtus verborum”: Débats doctrinaux sur le pouvoir des incantations au Moyen Âge (Paris: Les Éditions du Cerf, 2007) and “Acting through Words in the Middle Ages: Communication and Action in

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Chapter 1

in the Middle Ages and demonstrate the wide variety of means by which charms were assumed to work. One early and influential condemnation of amulets, including tex­ tual amulets, was written by Augustine of Hippo. In De doctrina Christiana he argues that anything involving the worship of idols or contracts with demons is superstitious.16 He includes written amulets in this category, along with amuletic objects and dubious remedies of other kinds: Ad hoc genus pertinent omnes etiam ligaturae atque remedia quae medicorum quoque disciplina condemnat, sive in praecantationibus sive in quibusdam notis quos caracteres vocant, sive in quibusque rebus suspendendis atque illigandis vel etiam saltandis quodam modo, non ad temperationem corporum sed ad quasdam significationes aut occultas aut etiam manifestas, quae mitiore nomine physica vocant, ut quasi non superstitione implicare sed natura prodesse videantur. To this category belong all the amulets and remedies which the medical profession also condemns, whether these consist of incantations, or certain marks which their exponents call “characters,” or the business of hanging certain things up and tying things to other things, or even somehow making things dance. The purpose of these practices is not to heal the body, but to establish certain secret or even overt meanings. They call these “physical” matters, using this bland name to give the impression that they do not involve a person in superstition but are by nature beneficial.17

Augustine feared that incantations or unknown characters might serve as signs for demons who would make the charms appear to work by natu­ ral means and thereby undermine proper Christian faith by encouraging people to place their hope in superstitious practices. Similar religious concerns pertained, in pre­Conquest England, to healing rituals associated with non­Christian religions. The same fear that physical benefit to the patient might expose his or her soul to danger is the Debates on the Power of Incantations,” Archives de sciences sociales des religions 158, no. 2 (May 2012): 53– 71. These focus primarily on spoken rather than written words. 16. Augustine, De doctrina Christiana, ed. and trans. R. P. H. Green (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1995), book 2, 20.30, 90– 91. 17. Augustine, De doctrina Christiana, book 2, 20.30, 90– 93.

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visible in Ælfric’s homily for St. Bartholomew’s Day. In one passage, a devil that has been hiding inside a pagan idol confesses its plans: Ure ealdor swa gebunden swa he is. sent us to mancynne þæt we he mid mislicum untrumnyssum awyrdon ærest heora lichaman for þan ðe we nabbað nænne anweald on heora sawlum buton he heora lac us geoffrian. Ac þonne hi for heora lichaman hælðe us offriað þonne geswice we þæs lichaman gedrecednysse. for þan ðe we habbað syððan heora sawla on urum gewealdeæ þonne bið geþuht swilce we hi gehælon. þonne we geswicað þæra awyrdnyssa. ⁊ men us wurþiað for godas. þonne we soðlice deoflu sind . . . ðonne hi gelyfað þæt we godas sind. ⁊ us offriað þonne forlæt se ælmihtiga god hi. ⁊ we þonne forlætað þone lichaman ungebrocedne ⁊ cepað ðære sawle þe us to gebeah. ⁊ heo þonne on ure anwealde bið.18 Our prince [i.e., Satan], bound as he is, sent us to mankind so that we might corrupt them with various illnesses; first their bodies, because we have no power over their souls, unless they offer us their gifts. But when they make offerings to us for the health of their bodies, then we stop the bodily torment, because then we have their souls in our power. Then it seems as if we heal them, when we end those corruptions. And men worship us as gods, when we are really devils. . . . When they believe that we are gods, and make offerings to us, then Almighty God leaves them, and we leave their body unafflicted and seek to have their soul that has bowed to us, and which is then in our power.

In a context in which successful healing could be a sign either of divine in­ tervention or of demonic deception, the question of how such cures func­ tioned was simultaneously unanswerable and urgent. That charms might establish signs helping demons to deceive their users remained a pressing concern throughout the Middle Ages, as did the difficulty, emphasized by Augustine, of distinguishing between natural and supernatural efficacy. The distinction between natural and supernatural action was compli­ cated in the twelfth century by the arrival in western Europe of a vast new body of scholarship. Well over a hundred works of Arabic learning were translated into Latin. By the thirteenth century, the authority of these texts 18. Ælfric, “VIII Kalendas Septembris Passio Sancti Bartholomei Apostoli,” in Ælfric’s Catholic Homilies: The First Series, ed. Peter Clemoes, EETS SS 17 (London and New York: Oxford University Press, 1997), 443– 44.

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was firmly established, with their main influence being felt in the universi­ ties, particularly among the clergy and physicians.19 The treatise De radiis, which is attributed to Al­Kindi and which survives only in Latin, circulated with the subtitle “theorica artium magicarum”: the theory of the magical arts.20 Al­Kindi argues that seemingly magical effects are produced by nat­ ural means, because of rays emitted by the stars and the elements. In the chapter “De virtute verborum” (On the power of words), he argues that “voces in actum producte radios faciunt sicut et alie res actuales, et suis radiis operantur in mundo elementorum sicut et alia individua” (words, when actually spoken, make rays, just as other actual things do, and by their rays operate on the world of the elements just like other individu­ als).21 For Al­Kindi, the effect of the words depends both on the inherent meaning they receive from the heavens and on the significance assigned to them by mankind.22 The closer the human signification is to the divine one, the more power the words have to influence the material world.23 Human signification, however, is not a crucial aspect of verbal power. All words, “tam significativa quam non significativa” (whether signifying or not signifying), have substance and could produce an effect if spoken with intention.24 In Al­Kindi’s theory, therefore, even words without referen­ tial meaning might possess a wide range of natural powers. These ideas added a theory of natural efficacy to the existing possibilities of divine or demonic intervention in verbal remedies. Determining which uses of words were or were not legitimate was complex, as can be seen in the Summa confessorum, written shortly after 1215 by Thomas of Chobham, the subdean of Salisbury.25 This text, one 19. Kieckhefer, Magic in the Middle Ages, 118– 19. 20. Al-Kindi, “On Rays,” in The Philosophical Works of Al-Kindi, ed. Peter Adamson and Peter E. Pormann, Studies in Islamic Philosophy (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2012), 218. 21. Marie-Thérèse D’Alverny and Françoise Hudry, “Al-Kindi: De Radiis,” Archives d’histoire doctrinale et littéraire du Moyen Âge 41 (1974): 233. Translated in Burnett, “Theory and Practice,” 218. 22. D’Alverny and Hudry, “Al-Kindi: De Radiis,” 235– 36; Burnett, “Theory and Practice,” 219– 20. 23. This theory was not universally accepted: see the edition of the text in Marshall Clagett, Nicole Oresme and the Medieval Geometry of Qualities and Motions: A Treatise on the Uniformity and Difformity of Intensities Known as Tractatus de Configurationibus Qualitatum et Motuum (Madison: University of Wisconsin Press, 1968), discussed in Delaurenti, “Acting through Words,” 60– 61. 24. D’Alverny and Hudry, “Al-Kindi: De Radiis,” 239– 40. 25. Thomas of Chobham, Thomae de Chobham summa confessorum, ed. F. Broomfield, Analecta Mediaevalia Namurcensia 25 (Louvain: Editions Nauwelaerts, 1968), xxvi.

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of the earliest and most comprehensive manuals of advice for confessors, survives in a large number of manuscripts and influenced many of the pas­ toral manuals that followed it.26 Chobham addresses the power of words in some detail.27 Sacred words, he argues, receive at least some of their power from nature, although their operation is still poorly understood: Constat tamen quod verba sacra in rebus naturalibus multam habent efficaciam. In tribus enim dicunt phisici precipuam vim nature esse constitutam: in verbis, et herbis et in lapidibus. De virtute autem herbarum et lapidum aliquid scimus, de virtute verborum parum vel nihil novimus.28 It is certain, however, that sacred words have much efficacy in natural matters. For natural philosophers say that the force of nature is especially placed in three things: in words, and herbs, and in stones. Although we know something about the power of herbs and stones, about the power of words we have known little or nothing.

Chobham compares the apparently miraculous outcomes of such words to the equally astonishing ability of doctors to predict the outcome of an illness using their specialist knowledge. The use of powerful words in accordance with nature is not a sin, he says, although it is sinful to use them for illicit purposes or to mix them with the names of demons.29 However, he offers no means of distinguishing between legitimate words and demonic words, presumably relying on the practitioner having the knowledge to discriminate between them. In addition to discussing the power of words generally, Chobham spe­ cifically addresses the protective use of written words. He is particularly concerned about words written in an unfamiliar language or in mysterious characters: “verba quorum significationem penitus ignorant” (words the significance of which [their users] are thoroughly ignorant).30 He distin­ guishes not only between sacred words and words unknown to their users but also between acceptable and unacceptable attitudes toward the words themselves. It is a sin, he claims, to wear amulets in the belief that the words on them have power that does not come from God. It is still more sinful to wear unknown characters or words in the belief that they might 26. Chobham, Summa confessorum, x, lxix. 27. Chobham, Summa confessorum, 476– 81. 28. Chobham, Summa confessorum, 478. 29. Chobham, Summa confessorum, 479. 30. Chobham, Summa confessorum, 480.

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have efficacy. Genuinely sacred words, meanwhile, can be worn without sin if the wearer believes that they will function through his or her devo­ tion and faith.31 In stating that it is sinful to believe that words without known meaning might have efficacy, Chobham’s arguments attempt to link natural power to sacred Christian words alone. Such an attitude was not unusual: it was standard throughout the medieval period to condemn the power of unfamiliar words and characters, despite Al­Kindi’s argu­ ments that such words could act by natural means. Nevertheless, as I shall show in subsequent chapters, charms that used words without referential signification, or characters with no parallels in conventional written lan­ guage, continued to circulate throughout the Middle Ages. There is little evidence of concern about such texts among the owners and composers of charm manuscripts until the late fourteenth century. Chobham’s focus on the divine origins and faith­based efficacy of writ­ ten amulets points to the connection between power assigned to text and power derived from Christian belief. Although few other medieval texts discuss the protective or healing uses specifically of written words, those that do tend to draw connections between texts and sacred relics. The eighth­century bishop Alcuin of York, for example, condemned the prac­ tice of wearing written amulets. People, he wrote, sancta quaeque in collo portare, non in corde desiderant: et cum illis Dei verbis sanctissimis vel reliquiis sanctorum vadunt ad inmunditias suas vel etiam uxoribus debitum solvunt.32 want to carry every sacred thing around their necks, not in their hearts: and with these most sacred words of God or the relics of the saints they go to their dirty acts or even do their duty by their wives.

This condemnation places sacred words alongside relics. Both are seen as powerful objects to be treated with respect— and certainly not to be worn during copulation.33 Writing in the 1260s or 1270s, Thomas Aquinas made a similar compar­ ison between texts and relics in his Summa Theologica in response to the

31. Chobham, Summa confessorum, 479– 80. 32. Alcuin, “Letters,” in Monumenta Germaniae Historica, Epp. 4: Epistolae Karolini aevi (II), ed. Ernest Dümmler (Berlin: apud Weidmannos, 1895), no. 291. 33. I discuss this example in more detail in chapter 2.

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question of whether it was wrong to wear amulets.34 He concludes that it is lawful, unless the amulets contain incomprehensible words or symbols, or “people place confidence in the style of writing or fashion in wearing them, or to some such nonsense, which has no connection with reverence for God.”35 He argues that eadem etiam ratio est de portatione reliquarum. Quia si portentur ex fiducia Dei et sanctorum quorum sunt reliquiæ, non erit illicitum: si autem circa hoc attenderetur aliquid aliud vanum, puta quod vas esset triangulare, aut aliquid aliud hujusmodi quod non pertineret ad reverentiam Dei et sanctorum, esset superstitiosum et illicitum. this same consideration applies in the wearing of relics. If this is done out of confidence in God, and in the saints, whose relics they are, then the practice is not wrong. But if account were taken of some irrelevance, for instance, that the locket is triangular and the like, which has no bearing on the reverence due to God and the saints, it would be superstitious and wrong.36

Centuries after Alcuin, Aquinas too considers how sacred texts and rel­ ics should be treated by comparing them to one another. By mentioning written charms and holy relics in the same breath, he makes similar con­ nections between these two means of accessing supernatural power. As these examples of responses to the physical power of spoken and written words demonstrate, there were several overlapping theories about how efficacious words might function. Medieval theorists did not always clearly distinguish which words worked for which reasons. However, whether practitioners believed that the words they prescribed worked by natural or supernatural means, they often asked their patients to interact with the texts in ways similar to how relics were used for healing purposes. In the discussion that follows, I leave the realm of theory and turn to the 34. “Utrum suspendere divini verba ad collum sit illicitum” (whether it is wrong to wear divine words around the neck). Thomas Aquinas, Summa Theologiæ (London: Blackfriars with Eyre & Spottiswode / New York: McGraw-Hill, 1964– 81), 2a2ae. 96, 4, vol. 40: 80– 81. Here, as elsewhere, I have made some alterations to this volume’s translation of the Summa. 35. “Si spes habeatur in modo scribendi aut ligandi, aut in quacumque hujusmodi vanitate quae ad divinam reverentiam non pertineat.” Aquinas, Summa Theologiæ, 2a2ae. 96, 4, vol. 40: 82– 83. 36. Aquinas, Summa Theologiæ, 2a2ae. 96, 4, vol. 40: 84– 85.

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implications of practice, in which surviving charm­recipes hint at the re­ lationship between written texts and holy matter of other kinds.

Eating Words in the Bible Even if some Christian writers condemned the use of texts or spoken words for protective or healing purposes, the extent to which charm power drew on the power of the church is evident both in the words of the charms themselves and in the number of charm rituals that clearly demand the cooperation of a priest. Charms that include the performance of a full Christian mass continued to be copied throughout the medieval period. Other charms require priests to perform specific actions. For example, one fifteenth­century charm for a lame horse needs a priest to sit on the suffering creature and repeat certain prayers.37 Another, which promises to cure all maladies, instructs the practitioner to put herbs in a vessel and put the vessel into the earth in front of the altar where the priest stands when he elevates the host— something that would presumably have been difficult to do without the priest’s permission.38 Several remedies against the disease known as the falling sickness or the falling evil, associated with epilepsy, involve priests either in their liturgical functions— hearing the patient’s confession or saying Mass— or in extraliturgical ways such as reading texts over the patient’s head or receiving candles offered by the patient.39 These practices demonstrate that the established liturgy of the church and the authority of the church hierarchy could be co­opted for the purpose of healing using charms. Furthermore, Christian writings provided medieval practitioners with many of the most influential pieces of evidence for the efficacy of both written and spoken words, in particular through the close association be­ tween writing and the divine. In the book of Revelation, God describes himself as the “Alpha and Omega,” using the first and last letters of the Greek alphabet— a phrase that also appears in the powerful words of sev­ eral charms.40 God brings the world into existence through speech, say­ 37. British Library, Cotton MS Julius D viii, fol. 117v. 38. British Library, Sloane MS 431, fol. 15v. 39. Charms for the falling sickness that involve the explicit participation of a priest appear in Durham University Library, MS Cosin V.IV.1, fol. 28r; Lincoln Cathedral Library, MS 91, fol. 296r; British Library, Additional MS 15236, fols. 88v– 89r; Wellcome Library, MS 542, fol. 100r; and Bodleian Library, MS Digby 86, fol. 33r, and MS Douce 84, fol. 19r–v. 40. Revelation 1:8: “Ego sum Alpha et Omega principium et finis dicit Dominus Deus qui est et qui erat et qui venturus est Omnipotens” (I am Alpha and Omega,

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ing, “Let there be light,” while in the ritual of the Mass, words spoken by a priest transform the wine and the wafer into Christ’s blood and body.41 In some medieval rites for the consecration of churches, the bishop would use his crozier to trace the Greek and Latin alphabets in ashes on the floor of the building, demonstrating that Christianity was founded on the written word.42 The most striking example, however, is the equation made between the Word and God in the opening of the Gospel of John: “In principio erat Verbum, et Verbum erat apud Deum, et Deus erat Verbum” (In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God).43 This verse is relatively common in charms, appearing for example as a phrase to be spoken when gathering marigolds and St. John’s wort for use against “þe hote euell,” as part of a charm against the falling sickness, and in a fourteenth­century ritual against fantasies and the illusions of the devil.44 The Word was associated in particular with Christ, who was in turn connected to the idea of healing through the long­standing con­ cept of “Christus medicus,” or Christ the physician.45 The link between the Word and Christ was further supported by the statement, in John 1:14, that “Verbum caro factum est” (the Word was made flesh), a phrase that appears in charms for childbirth, spasms, and fever.46 In a religious context that connected words with the divine, it is hardly surprising that people in the Middle Ages used both spoken and written words to try to the beginning and the end, saith the Lord God, who is and who was and who is to come, the Almighty). This verse appears in three separate charms in the tenth-century medical recipe collection Lacnunga. See British Library, Harley MS 585, fols. 181v– 82r, 186r–v, and 186v. The letters alpha and omega appear together in many more examples. 41. For example, Genesis 1:3: “Dixitque Deus fiat lux et facta est lux” (And God said: Be light made. And light was made). 42. Brian Repsher, “The Abecedarium: Catechetical Symbolism in the Rite of Church Dedication,” Mediaevalia 24 (2003): 10. 43. John 1:1. 44. British Library, Additional MS 17866, fol. 26r, and Beinecke Rare Book & Manuscript Library, Takamiya MS 46, fol. 25r; York Minster Library, MS XVI.E.32, fol. 4r; British Library, Harley MS 273, fol. 215v. 45. See, for example, Rudolph Arbesmann, “The Concept of ‘Christus Medicus’ in St. Augustine,” Traditio 10 (1954): 1– 28; Christoffer H. Grundmann, “Christ as Physician: The Ancient Christus medicus Trope and Christian Medical Missions as Imitation of Christ,” Christian Journal for Global Health 5, no. 3 (2018): 3– 6. 46. John 1:14: “Et Verbum caro factum est et habitavit in nobis” (And the Word was made flesh and dwelt among us). Charms that incorporate this phrase appear in Durham University Library, MS Cosin V.IV.1, fol. 13v, and Bodleian Library, MS Ashmole 1447, part 4, p. 233, and MS Digby 88, fol. 3v.

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influence the world around them, nor that medieval charms rely heavily on biblical and liturgical language. The powerful connection between Christ and the Word in medieval English culture, not just in religious contexts but also in literature, is un­ disputed. In the later Middle Ages, Christ was compared not only to the Word but to the written word specifically. Christ’s passion, in particular, was frequently described as a textual event and his wounds compared to writing. For example, Richard Rolle’s mid­fourteenth­century Meditations on the Passion includes the sentence “swet Jhesu, þy body is lyke a boke written al with rede ynke; so is þy body al written with rede woundes.”47 The Fasciculus morum, written in the very early fourteenth century, sim­ ilarly likens Christ’s flesh to the parchment of a charter, the nails of his Crucifixion to quills, and his blood to ink.48 The comparison is perhaps at its most complete in the Middle English Charters of Christ, popular lyrics which imagine Christ as a legal charter granting mankind access to heaven in return for their penance, contrition, and love.49 The image of Christ as text appears most clearly in the version of the poem known as the Long Charter. As it is recorded in the British Library’s Harley MS 5396, it reads: Strayned I was upon a tre As pa[r]chemyn owyth to be Heryt now & ȝe schall wyt How þys charter was I­wryt Þe Iowys fell with gret swynk Of my blode þey madyn ynke Þe pennys þat þe lettrys dyd wryte Where skoges with whych þay dyd me smyt How many lettrys þer­on ben Rede & þu may wyt & sene V m CCCC seuyty & V 47. Richard Rolle, English Writings of Richard Rolle Hermit of Hampole, ed. Hope Emily Allen (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1931), 36. 48. Wenzel, Fasciculus morum, 212– 13. 49. R. N. Swanson, “Passion and Practice: The Social and Ecclesiastical Implications of Passion Devotion in the Late Middle Ages,” in The Broken Body: Passion Devotion in Late Medieval Culture, ed. A. A. MacDonald, H. N. B. Ridderbos, and R. M. Schlusemann (Groningen: Egbert Forsten, 1998), 20. These texts are explored in depth in Emily Steiner, Documentary Culture and the Making of Medieval English Literature, Cambridge Studies in Medieval Literature (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2003). See especially chapter 2, 47– 90, and chapter 5, 193– 228.

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Wyndys I suffryd here yn my lyfe To schewe ȝou my lofe­dede My­selfe wyl þys charter rede.50

Here, Christ himself becomes a textual guarantee of salvation, with the documentary form of the poem eliding Christ’s desire for man’s salvation with the action he has taken to achieve it.51 As Emily Steiner has noted, the conversion of Christ’s lament into a legal document transforms the historical witnesses of Christ’s Crucifixion into the audience reading or listening to his charter, allowing the present audience to act as contempo­ rary witnesses of Christ’s textual charter­body and ultimately transform­ ing “the suffering body of Christ into an efficacious one.”52 In these various examples, words represent Christ not by looking like or describing him but by standing in for him.53 Some medieval charms, as I discuss below, make a similar association between the written word and the sacred body, transforming material texts into objects that represent and act like the efficacious bodies of the saints. Christian texts also provided the rationale for specific charm rituals. The Bible describes methods of using text that have clear parallels in medi­ eval English remedies. For example, the book of Numbers includes a ritual for discovering whether or not a woman has committed adultery.54 The biblical ritual is complicated, involving sacrifices, holy water, and curses. Among the several stages is this step: Scribetque sacerdos in libello ista maledicta et delebit ea aquis amarissimis in quas maledicta congessit et dabit ei bibere. And the priest shall write these curses in a book, and shall wash them out with the most bitter waters, upon which he hath heaped the curses, and he shall give them to her to drink.55 50. British Library, Harley MS 5396, fol. 302v, transcribed in Mary Caroline Spalding, The Middle English Charters of Christ (Bryn Mawr, PA: Bryn Mawr, 1914), 27. 51. Steiner, Documentary Culture, 66. 52. Steiner, Documentary Culture, 69. 53. Bynum, Christian Materiality, 59. 54. Numbers 5:12– 31. 55. Numbers 5:23– 24. The curses, given in Numbers 5:21– 22, are “Det te dominus in maledictionem exemplumque cunctorum in populo suo putrescere faciat femur tuum et tumens uterus disrumpatur ingrediantur aquae maledictae in ventrem tuum et utero tumescente putrescat femur” (The Lord make thee a curse, and an example

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In this ritual, the text interacts with the woman to discern her guilt or innocence. The curses must be absorbed by her, and they take effect only if she has actually committed adultery. The written words of the curses are washed out into the water she is made to drink, the water thus serving as a medium for transferring the effect of the very text it has been used to destroy. Medieval glosses on the passage raise questions about how, precisely, the words transmit their power within the adultery ritual. The Glossa ordinaria argues that the power of the ritual does not lie in the text itself but in God’s power and in the woman’s response to the writing. Either the text frightens her, scaring her away from sin, or she holds it in contempt, in which case God will punish her.56 Although this view diminishes any sense that the text has inherent power, it still shows that God’s punishment comes when the woman fails to treat the text with respect. Nicholas of Lyra (ca. 1270– 1349), meanwhile, questions which of the ritual’s words were actually written down and which of them might carry power. He writes: Secundum Iosephum non scribebat nisi nomen domini tetragrammaton, ex cuius virtute veniebant super mulieres iste maledictiones. Secundum alios vero scribebat istas maledictiones prout in textu sunt expresse cum videtur magis credendum iosepho, qui talia sacrificia videre potuit ⁊ forte vidit.57 According to Josephus, he would write only the name of the Lord Tetragrammaton [i.e., the four­letter Hebrew name Yahweh], from the virtue of which these curses would come upon the women. According to others, however, he would write these curses just as they are expressed in the text, although it seems Josephus is more to be believed, who was able to see sacrifices of this kind, and perhaps did see them.

Again, this commentary pushes against the idea of textual power but fails to deny it entirely: it contracts the presumed efficacy of the text as a whole to just the written name of God. Both commentaries seek to affirm that for all among his people: may he make thy thigh to rot, and may thy belly swell and burst asunder. Let the cursed waters enter into thy belly, and may thy womb swell and thy thigh rot). 56. Bibliorum sacrorum cum glossa ordinaria, vol. 1 (Venice, 1603), col. 1195– 96, https://lollardsociety.org/?page_id=409. 57. Nicolaus de Lyra, Postilla super totam Bibliam, vol. 1 (Strassburg, 1492; repr. Frankfurt: Minerva GmbH, 1971), X.ii.v.

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the ritual’s power comes from God, not from the written text itself. Never­ theless, neither is quite able to dismiss the text, and the assumptions about the power of the written word that lie behind the biblical passage were felt in English charm practice. The belief displayed in the biblical passage— that the power of a written text might be transferred to a person through water— is similar to that seen in the creation of a protective drink described in the tenth­century medi­ cal collection Lacnunga, meaning “remedies.”58 The recipe in Lacnunga is for a holy drink that, the author promises, will provide protection against elvish magic and the temptations of the devil. The recipe instructs the reader to write a series of religious texts— the beginning of the Gospel of John; Matthew 4:23– 25; and Psalms 53, 66, and 69— onto a paten.59 Next, the practitioner mixes herbs with water from a running stream and uses the mixture to wash the texts carefully away. This water, now mixed with the ink used to write the texts, forms the base of the holy drink. To complete the recipe, the water was to be mixed with consecrated wine, and a series of masses and psalms were to be sung over it. The written text is not the only vehicle for power in this recipe. As with the biblical ritual, this drink involves sacred objects and consecrated ingredients— in this case, the paten and the consecrated wine, both of which might have been thought to have healing properties of their own.60 The religious words of the text are therefore integrated into a broader Christian structure of healing. As with the recipe in the book of Num­ bers, the text in the Lacnunga remedy is destroyed during the ritual of the charm. This implies that the force of the written words persisted in the ink as the text dissolved into the liquid. When the ink formed the words of the curse or the blessing, it apparently became saturated with their power. 58. British Library, Harley MS 585, fols. 137r– 38r. In Edward Pettit, ed., Anglo-Saxon Remedies, Charms, and Prayers from British Library MS Harley 585: The Lacnunga, 2 vols., Mellen Critical Editions and Translations 6 (Lewiston: Edwin Mellen Press, 2001), 1:17 (no. 29). 59. The instructions, with word separation normalized, read: “writ on husldisce. In principio erat uerbum usque non conprehenderunt et reliqua. Et circum ibat ihesus totam galileam docens usque et secuti sunt eum turbe multe. Deus in nomine tuo usque in finem. Deus miseratur nobis usque in finem. Domine deus in adiutorium usque in finem” (Write on a paten, “In the beginning was the Word” up to “did not comprehend it,” and further, “And Jesus went all about Galilee, teaching” until “and much people followed him.” “O God by thy name” until the end. “May God have mercy on us” until the end. “Lord God, come to my assistance” until the end). British Library, Harley MS 585, fol. 137r–v. 60. Godefridus J. C. Snoek, Medieval Piety from Relics to the Eucharist: A Process of Mutual Interaction (Leiden: E. J. Brill, 1995), 343–44, 348.

Box 1.2 A Charm against Fevers British LiBrary, royaL Ms 12 d Xvii (BaLd’s Leechbook I), foL. 51r– v (ca. 900– 980) Wiþ lencten adle wermod eoforþrote. elehtre. wegbræde. ribbe. cerfille. attorlaðe. feferfuge. alexandre. bisceopwyrt. lufestice. saluie. cassuc wyrc to drence on welscum ealað do halig wæter to. ⁊ spring wyrt. Þis mon sceal writan on husldisce ⁊ on þone drenc mid halig wætere þwean ⁊ singan on +++++A++++++ +++ω++++ In principio erat uerbum et uerbum erat aput deum et deus erat uerbum. Hoc erat In principio aput deum omnia per ipsum facta sunt. Þweah þonne þæt gewrit mid halig wætre of þam disce on þone drenc. sing. þonne credo ⁊ pater noster ⁊ þis leoþ. beati Inmaculati þone sealm mid ad dominum þam .xii. gebed sealmum. Adiuro uos frigores et febres. per deum patrem omnipotentem et per eius filium ihesum christum per ascensum et discensum saluatoris nostri ut recedatis de hoc famulo dei. et. de corpusculo eius quam dominus noster Inluminare Instituit. Vincit uos leo de tribu iuda radix dauid. Vincit uos qui uinci non potest. + Christus natus. + christus passus. + christus uenturus. + aius. + aius. + aius. + Sanctus. + Sanctus + Sanctus. In die salutiferis incedens gressibus urbes. oppida rura uicos castra castella peragrans. Omnia depulsis sanabat corpora morbis. ⁊ þriwa þonne onsupe þæs wæteres swelces gehwæþer þara manna. Against “spring disease” [a disease variously translated as “dysentery,” “typhus,” and “tertian fever”], make wormwood, carline thistle, lupin, plantain, hound’s-tongue, chervil, fumitory, feverfew, horse-parsley, betony, lovage, sage, and sedge into a drink in foreign ale. Add holy water and wild caper. One should write this on a paten and wash it into the drink with holy water, and sing over it: +++++A++++++ +++ω++++ “In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God. The same was in the beginning with God. All things were made by him.” Then wash the writing off the paten with holy water into the drink, then sing the Creed and the Pater Noster and this song: “Blessed are the undefiled,” the psalm with “to the Lord,” and the twelve prayer psalms. “I adjure you, chills and fevers, through almighty God the Father and through His son Jesus Christ, through the ascent and descent of our savior, that you recede from this servant of God, and from his human body to which our Lord decided to give

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Box 1.2 (continued ) light. The lion from the tribe of Judah, the root of David, conquers you. He who cannot be conquered conquers you. + Christ was born. + Christ has suffered. + Christ will come! + Holy. + Holy. + Holy. + Holy. + Holy. + Holy. On the day of salvation, approaching cities by steps, Traveling through towns, farms, villages, castles, fortresses, He healed all bodies, having cast out diseases.” And then let each person sip from the same water three times.

The crosses in the manuscript surround the alpha and omega and are above each occurrence of the words “Christus,” “aius,” and “sanctus” in the “Christus natus” formula. The biblical quotations are taken from John 1:1– 13 and Psalms 118 and 119, while the final quotation is from Sedulius, Carmen Paschale, III, 23– 25. The full poem can be found in Sedulius, Sedulius, The Paschal Song and Hymns, ed. and trans. Carl P. E. Springer, Writings from the Greco-Roman World 35 (Atlanta: Society of Biblical Literature, 2013), with the relevant lines on pp. 78– 79.

The ink therefore contributed to the drink’s protective or healing power not because of its own properties but because of the properties of the words it had been used to write: the curses in the biblical recipe cause the water to become harmful, while the positive texts in the Lacnunga recipe provide protection. The Lacnunga recipe is not the only medieval charm to use water as a medium for transferring textual power. There is at least one similar charm from the pre­Conquest period, used for treating fevers. In this recipe the Greek letters alpha and omega, surrounded by small crosses, were to be written onto a paten along with the opening of the Gospel of John and then washed away with water (box 1.2).61 Further prayers were to be sung 61. For more on the use of patens in medicine, see Megan Cavell, “Powerful Patens in the Anglo-Saxon Medical Tradition and Exeter Book Riddle 48,” Neophilologus 101, no. 1 (2017): 129– 38.

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Box 1.3 Selected Charms for Childbirth with Dissolved Text BodLeian LiBrary, Ms digBy 86, foLs. 15v– 17r (ca. 1275– 1300). foLio 16 is a Later insertion. Ou escriuez la pater noster. en vn mazelin. as founz. ⁊ pus le lauez od vin ⁊ od ewe. ⁊ donez li a beiure. ⁊ ceo sachez qui saunz peril en ert deliure. Or write the Pater Noster in the bottom of a mazer and then wash it with wine and with water and give it to her to drink, and so know that she will be delivered without peril.

BodLeian LiBrary, Ms douce 84, foL. 6v (ca. 1400– 1450) Oþer wryte þe pater noster in a maser ⁊ wasch it aȝen with wyn oþer with water ⁊ ȝyf here to drynke.

Other childbirth charms that use dissolved text appear in Cambridge, Magdalene College, Pepys MS 878, p. 102; British Library, Additional MS 15236, fol. 41r, Egerton MS 2433, fol. 19r, and Sloane MS 475, fol. 23r; and York Minster Library, MS XVI.E.32, fols. 6r and 116v.

over the inky water to complete the drink. In another example, this time from the late thirteenth century, an Anglo­French childbirth remedy in­ structs users to write the Pater Noster in the bottom of a bowl, and then pour wine or water into the bowl to dissolve the text. The patient would drink the resulting mixture (box 1.3). From the later medieval period, a charm to protect chickens, quoted in the introduction, asks its user to write the Pater Noster onto bread or parchment, then wash it with water and give the chickens the water to drink.62 Matthew Milner, discussing a veterinary charm that involved bless­ ing oats and sprinkling them with holy water, notes that the use of such a charm for a nonhuman patient “limits the roles of personal piety, sin, 62. Cambridge, Magdalene College, Pepys MS 878, p. 102.

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or intellectual processes and consideration of saintly intercession, and prioritizes the physical experience of the holy oats.”63 He argues persua­ sively that grace could be seen as an Aristotelian spiritual or intentional quality— an inherent property that mediates between the object and the sensory organs of the viewer.64 Light (lumen) in the air, for example, would be an intentional quality produced by the light (lux) of an object such as a flame, while Averroes believed that intentional qualities in the strings of an instrument explained the affective power of music.65 Milner understands the intentional quality of grace as saturating the oats through the spoken words of the charm. Although Milner focuses on the power of speech, his argument can be extended beyond spoken charms. In using written charms to treat chickens, for example, understanding the text can only be of limited importance. What matters is its physical presence. The most common recipe to use the tactic of dissolving text in water was one intended to cure the falling sickness (box 1.4). The charm circu­ lated at least from the second half of the fourteenth century until the end of the Middle Ages. This recipe offers two different ways for a patient to interact with its text. For an adult, the text was to be written onto parch­ ment using blood from the patient’s right hand. The patient was then to wear the text as an amulet. For a young child, the text was to be written inside a bowl, dissolved into ale or milk, and drunk. Presenting two dif­ ferent approaches, the charm demonstrates that drinking the text could be equivalent to wearing it as an amulet. This, in turn, shows that the power of particular words was not necessarily linked to their ritual context. The two methods were apparently seen as equivalent: physical contact with a textual amulet transmitted the same power as drinking liquid into which words had been rinsed, even though one remedy preserves the text and the other destroys it. As in the Lacnunga charm, this confirms that the rituals surrounding the text were intended as a means of transmitting the text to the patient physically, rather than through orthodox verbal com­ munication. We have seen that medieval writers drew connections between textual amulets and Christian relics. The practice of drinking text reveals that the 63. Matthew Milner, “The Physics of Holy Oats: Vernacular Knowledge, Qualities, and Remedy in Fifteenth-Century England,” Journal of Medieval and Early Modern Studies 43, no. 2 (2013): 222. 64. Milner, “Holy Oats,” 224– 25. 65. Robert Pasnau, “Scholastic Qualities, Primary and Secondary,” in Primary and Secondary Qualities: The Historical and Ongoing Debate, ed. Lawrence Nolan (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2011), 44; Milner, “Holy Oats,” 224.

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Box 1.4 A Charm for the Falling Evil British LiBrary, sLoane Ms 1314, foL. 38v (ca. 1350– 1400) For þe fallyng euyl. Take þe blod of þe litel fynger of þe ryht hande of hym is seke ⁊ wryte þese thre names in parchemyn with þe blod + Jasper + Melchior + balthazar + ⁊ let close hit ⁊ heng hit aboute his nek þat is seke ⁊ or þou close hit put þer in gold ⁊ mirre ⁊ frank encens of ilkon alitul. ⁊ bid hym þat is seke and has þe euel blesse hym when he ryses of his bed ilka day with with þo thre names ⁊ say for her fader soules ⁊ her moders thrye pater noster ⁊ thrye aue maria. ⁊ ilka day amoneth drink þe rote of Pyony with stale ale ⁊ he schal be hol securly ¶ And if hit be a child þat is an Innocent drawe blod of þe same fynger þat is before seyd ⁊ write þe thre kynges names in a masere with þe blod ⁊ wasche hit with ale or mylk ⁊ let þe child drink hit ⁊ he schal be hol.

This is the earliest example of the charm I am aware of. At some point, it was crossed out by a user of the book. Other examples of this charm, or similar charms, can be found in Cambridge University Library, MS Additional 9308, fols. 53v– 54r, and MS Ll.1.18, fol. 76v; Durham University Library, MSS Cosin V.IV.1, fol. 28r– v, and V.IV.8, fol. 16r; Lincoln Cathedral Library, MSS 88, fol. 129v, and 91, fol. 297r; British Library, Additional MS 33996, fol. 105v; Wellcome Library, MS 542, fol. 13v; Bodleian Library, MS Wood empt. 18, fols. 121v– 22r; and York Minster Library, MS XVI.E.32, fol. 36v. Unusually, the examples of this charm I have seen give their instructions only in English, not French or Latin.

parallels were physical as well as theoretical. Like written charms, relics and contact relics were believed to transfer their power through liquid. Tiny fragments of relics, including the true cross, were mixed with wa­ ter and ingested, as was dust from the tombs of saints.66 In other cases, 66. See, for example, Charles Freeman, Holy Bones, Holy Dust: How Relics Shaped the History of Medieval Europe (New Haven: Yale University Press, 2011), 56.

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the water only needed to have contact with the relic in order to gain its healing properties.67 Chaucer’s dishonest Pardoner describes a version of this practice, claiming that he owns the shoulder bone of a holy Jew’s sheep, and that If that this boon be wasshe in any welle, If cow, or calf, or sheep, or oxe swelle That any worm hath ete, or worm ystonge, Taak water of that welle and wassh his tonge, And it is hool anon; and forthermoore, Of pokkes and of scabbe, and every soore Shal every sheep be hool that of this welle Drynketh a draughte.68 (Pa r d oner’s Prolo gue , line s 35 3– 6 0)

Although the Pardoner intends to fool his audience, relic water was widely and sincerely used and was thought to transmit the virtues of Christian relics to patients.69 Water that had touched the tomb or relic of a saint was believed to have healing powers and to perform miracles. These miracles were attributed to God, working through the relic. One of the earliest and most widely celebrated examples of relic water was water bought at the tomb of St. Thomas Becket in Canterbury, which his devotees believed to include thoroughly diluted particles of his blood. Its importance was such that the creators of the Trinity Chapel of Canter­ bury Cathedral, built to house Becket’s relics in the late twelfth century, chose to decorate its stained­glass windows with depictions of the process of making relic water, as well as numerous scenes of its successful applica­ tion.70 Pilgrims to Canterbury could take relic water home in ampullae, 67. Alastair Minnis, Translations of Authority in Medieval English Literature: Valuing the Vernacular (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2009), 134. 68. Geoffrey Chaucer, The Riverside Chaucer, ed. Larry D. Benson, 3rd ed. (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2008), 194– 95. For a literary analysis of the Pardoner’s relics, see Robyn Malo, Relics and Writing in Late Medieval England (Toronto: University of Toronto Press, 2013), especially 131– 40. 69. Finucane, Miracles and Pilgrims, 89– 90, 94. 70. Rachel Koopmans, “‘Water Mixed with the Blood of Thomas’: Contact Relic Manufacture Pictured in Canterbury Cathedral’s Stained Glass,” Journal of Medieval History 42, no. 5 (2016): 535– 58; Sarah Blick, “Comparing Pilgrim Souvenirs and Trinity Chapel Windows at Canterbury Cathedral,” Mirator Syyskuu (September 2001): 1– 27.

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small souvenir containers that could be worn around the neck. Unlike on the Continent, where badges were typical, such ampullae were the most popular kind of pilgrim sign in England until the early fourteenth centu­ ry.71 The inscriptions of the earliest examples of Canterbury ampullae re­ fer specifically to the healing properties of the water, often with a variant of the text “OPTIMVS EGRORVM MEDICVS FIT TOMA BONORVM” (Thomas makes the best doctor of the goodly sick).72 These ampullae served as containers for the water, as souvenirs, and also as contact relics in their own right.73 Thomas Bredehoft, analyzing the inscriptions on these ampullae, has noted that later examples are pseudotextual: some of their characters seem not to be letters, while others are inverted or reversed.74 Bredehoft argues that the owners of such ampullae would have understood these psuedo­ textual inscriptions as texts and indeed as referring to the “Optimus egro­ rum” inscription that appears on so many of the Canterbury ampullae.75 In other words, the combination of “text” and ampulla would have been sufficient to bring the idea of Becket’s healing power to the viewer’s mind. Text verified the power of the water in the ampulla without being legible in the conventional sense: as in the case of incomprehensible words dis­ cussed by Augustine, Al­Kindi, and Chobham above, power was seen to stem from the mere presence of text, independent of its literal meaning. In addition to drinking relic water, pilgrims might consume sacred matter by chewing wax from candles at the saint’s shrine or eating the burned wicks.76 The twelfth­century bishop St. Hugh of Lincoln is said to have bitten fragments from the arm bone of Mary Magdalene, telling the horrified custodians of the relic that if he could ingest the body of Christ during Mass, why should he not treat the bones of saints the same way?77 71. Brian Spencer, Pilgrim Souvenirs and Secular Badges, 2nd ed., Medieval Finds from Excavations in London 7 (Woodbridge, UK: Boydell Press and the Museum of London, 2010), 3. After the early fourteenth century, badges also predominated in England. 72. Thomas A. Bredehoft, The Visible Text: Textual Production from Beowulf to Maus, Oxford Textual Perspectives (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2014), 65. See also Spencer, Pilgrim Souvenirs, 39. Specific examples of ampullae with this inscription are given the numbers 5– 14 and discussed on pp. 47– 57, sometimes with illustrations. 73. See Spencer, Pilgrim Souvenirs, 39. 74. Bredehoft, Visible Text, 65. 75. Bredehoft, Visible Text, 66. 76. Jonathan Sumption, Pilgrimage: An Image of Medieval Religion (London: Faber and Faber, 1975), 82. 77. Decima L. Douie and Dom. Hugh Farmer, eds, Magna Vita Sancti Hugonis: The Life of St. Hugh of Lincoln (London: Thomas Nelson and Sons, 1962), 2:170.

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Once again, this mode of interaction was shared by written charms: the consumption of text inscribed on food was a relatively common feature of medieval examples. In some cases, the texts add further religious signif­ icance to substances that were already treated like relics, such as a remedy that involves writing the names of the Trinity onto communion wafers (box 1.5). In other cases, the religious significance is less obvious, as for instance in the charm for childbirth that instructs the practitioner, “Item Fac hos caracteres in crustula panis. ⁊ fac mulieri comedere” (Again: make these characters on a little crust of bread, and give it to the woman to eat).78 Neither the characters displayed nor the material on which the charm was to be written shows any close connection to Christianity, al­ though, as I argue in chapter 3, unfamiliar characters were sometimes per­ ceived as copies of script written by angels. Apples, bread, butter, cheese, communion wafers, and sage leaves could all be used as surfaces on which to write healing words, which would usually— but not always— be eaten by the patient. In many in­ stances the food chosen to carry the words of the textual charm related to the condition being treated. Some substances were specific to particular diseases, although some— such as bread— could carry charms to treat a range of conditions.79 Texts written on sage leaves were used to treat fever (box 1.6), as were texts written on apples.80 Numerous charms against fever use communion wafers as a writing support, a use that does not appear in charms for other purposes. In the majority of these cases the inscribed communion wafer was to be eaten by the patient (box 1.5). Texts on butter and cheese, which always appear interchangeably, were used in charms for childbirth (box 1.7). The practice of ingesting text seems, 78. British Library, Sloane MS 475, fol. 23r. 79. Inscribed bread can be used against diseases in pigs, as in British Library, Sloane MS 2839, fol. 4v, and Bodleian Library, MS Digby 86, fol. 31r; or diseases in chickens, as in Cambridge, Magdalene College, Pepys MS 878, p. 102. It also appears in charms against rabies, as in British Library, Additional MS 33996, fol. 73r, and Sloane MS 431, fol. 48v; or for dog bites, as in Bodleian Library, MS Digby 86, fol. 33v. It can be of help in childbirth, as in British Library, Sloane MS 475, fol. 23r; it can test whether someone is a thief, as in Bodleian Library, MS Digby 86, fol. 20v, and MS Wood empt. 18, fol. 30r–v; and it can be used to cure madness, as in York Minster Library, MS XVI.E.32, fols. 150v– 51r. 80. Apples appear in remedies for fever, as in British Library, Harley MS 273, fol. 213r, and Sloane MS 431, fol. 44v, and Bodleian Library, MS Digby 86, fol. 29r; and for jaundice, as in British Library, Cotton MS Julius D viii, fol. 112r, and Egerton MS 833, fol. 1v, Bodleian Library, MS Rawlinson C 814, fol. 61v, and York Minster Library, MS XVI.E.32, fol. 34v; as well as for “þe jawnesse þat es called þe Golsought” in Durham University Library, MS Cosin V.IV.8, fols. 30v– 31r.

Box 1.5 Fever Charms Written on Communion Wafers Written onto a BLank Leaf at the end of Worcester cathedraL LiBrary, Ms Q.5 (ca. 1030– 1070) As transcribed in A. Napier, “Altenglische Miscellen,” Archiv für das Studium der neueren Sprachen 83, no. 4 (1890): 324, the charm reads: Ðis mæg wið gedrif. Genim .ix. oflætan ⁊ gewrit on ælcere on þas wisan: iesus christus, ⁊ sing þærofer .ix. pater noster ⁊ syle æten ænne dæg .III. ⁊ oðerne .III. ⁊ ðriddan .III. ⁊ cweðe æt ælcon siðan þis ofer þone mann. In nomine domini nostri, iesu christi, et in nomine sancte et individue trinitatis et in nomine sanctorum .VII. dormientium, quorum nomina hec sunt: Maximianus, Malchus, Martinianus, Iohannes, Seraphion, Constantinus, Dionisius . ita sicut requievit dominus super illos, sic requiescat super istum famulum dei N. coniuro vos, frigora et febres, per deum vivum, per deum verum, per deum sanctum, per deum, qui vos in potestate habet, per angelos, archangelos, per thronos et dominationes, per principatus et potestates, XII prophetas, per omnes martires, per sanctos confessores et sanctas virgines et per IIIIor evangelistas, Matheum, Marcum, Lucam, Iohannem, et per XXti IIIIor seniores et per cxliiiior milia, qui pro christi nomine passi sunt, et per virtutem sancte crucis adiuro [. . .]tor vos diabolicum [. . .]t non habe[. . .]s ullum [. . .] malum. This is effective against fever. Take nine sacramental wafers and write on each one in this way: “Jesus Christ,” and sing nine Pater Nosters over them, and give three to eat on the first day, and three the next, and three on the third, and at each time say this over the person: “In the name of Our Lord Jesus Christ, and in the name of the holy and indivisible Trinity, and in the name of the seven sleeping saints, whose names these are: Maximianus, Malchus, Martinianus, Iohannes, Seraphion, Constantinus, Dionisius. So just as the Lord rested upon them, so may He rest upon this servant of God [name]. I conjure you, chills and fevers, by the living God, by the true God, by the holy God, by God who has you in his power, by the angels, archangels, by the thrones and dominions, by the principalities and powers, the twelve prophets, by all the martyrs, by the holy confessors and holy virgins and by the four evangelists, Matthew, Mark, Luke, John, and by the

Box 1.5 (continued ) twenty-four elders and by the 144,000 who suffered for the name of Christ, and by the virtue of the holy cross I adjure [. . .] you devil [. . .] not have [. . .] any harm.”

British LiBrary, sLoane Ms 431, foL. 44v (ca. 1200– 1240) Pro febribus in tribus oblatis scribe hoc. Per. iij. uices dabis infirmo cum ceperit febricitare. In primo die. In nomine patris ⁊ filij ⁊ spiritus sancti amen. Pater noster alfa. ⁊. ω. In secundo die filius est uita In. tercio die. Spiritus sanctus est remedium. For fevers write this on three communion wafers. You will give them to the patient three times when he becomes ill from fever. On the first day, “In the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit Amen. Pater Noster. Alpha and Omega.” On the second day, “The Son is life.” On the third day, “The Holy Spirit is the remedy.”

British LiBrary, sLoane Ms 1314, foL. 11r (ca. 1350– 1400) Pro febribus. Take iii obleyes. ⁊ write Pater est alpha ⁊ o. uppon þat on ⁊ make apoynt . ⁊ let þe seke ete hit þe ferst day þe secunde day write on þat oþer obley. filius est uita. ⁊ make two poyntes . . ⁊ gyf þe seke to ete. / þe thrydday write on þat oþer. spiritus sanctus est remedium. ⁊ make iii poyntes . . . ⁊ gyf þe seke to ete. þe ferst day let þe seke say a pater noster ar he ete hit. ⁊ þe secunde two ar he ete hit. ⁊ ⁊ þe thridday thre pater nosters ⁊ a Crede.

LincoLn cathedraL LiBrary, Ms 91, foL. 306v (ca. 1430– 1450). in the Margin of this charM is Written “a charMe for þe feueris nota Bene.” Tak iij obles ⁊ write firste in ane of theym + l + elie + sabaoth + and on þe toþer oble + adonay + alpha + ⁊ o + messias + ⁊ on þe thirde oble + Pastor + agnus + Fons + and gif this thre obles to hym þat hase þe feuers thurgh iij dayes with haly water fastande

(continued)

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Box 1.5 (continued ) Remedies in which communion wafers are used in charms against fever also appear in Cambridge University Library, MS Additional 9308, fols. 14v and 53r; Lincoln Cathedral Library, MS 91, fol. 306v (a second example); British Library, Additional MSS 12195, fol. 136v, 15236, fols. 46r and 54v, and 33996, fols. 86r– v and 105r; Egerton MS 833, fol. 12v (two examples); Royal MS 12 E xx, fol. 162v; and Sloane MS 1314, fol. 38v; Wellcome Library, MS 542, fols. 4r and 13r; Bodleian Library, MS Ashmole 1447, part 2, p. 101, and MS Rawlinson C 814, fols. 52v and 52v– 53r; and York Minster Library, MS XVI.E.32, fol. 173r. These either state or imply that the wafers should be eaten by the patient. Several further examples involve writing on communion wafers that the patient would hold or carry. It is never clear whether remedies involving communion wafers used consecrated or unconsecrated wafers. One pre-Conquest remedy, in which communion wafers must be written on and carried, tells practitioners: “man sceal niman .vii. lytle oflætan swylce man mid ofrað” (one must take seven little communion wafers such as one offers with). As the offertory takes place before the consecration of the host, this may imply that unconsecrated wafers were to be used. This remedy appears in British Library, Harley MS 585, fol. 167r– v.

largely, to be a post­Conquest one. Only one pre­Conquest recipe spec­ ifies that its texts should be written onto food— in this case communion wafers— and eaten (box 1.5, above), although others call for text to be written onto edible items without specifying whether they should then be eaten.81 As with the idea that texts could be drunk, the consumption of text had parallels not only in interactions with relics but also with events described 81. A remedy for fever (gedrif ) in Vatican, Biblioteca Apostolica Reg. Lat. 338, fol. 91r, instructs the practitioner to write on a leek leaf but gives no instructions about whether it should be carried or eaten. This charm is described in N. R. Ker, Catalogue of Manuscripts Containing Anglo-Saxon (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1957), no. 390, 458. Other pre-Conquest remedies ask for text to be written on food and for it to be carried by the patient rather than eaten, as with the communion wafers in the recipe against “dweorh” (possibly a type of fever) found in British Library, Harley MS 585, fol. 167r– v.

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Box 1.6 A Fever Charm Written on Sage Leaves caMBridge university LiBrary, Ms additionaL 9308, foL. 78r– v (ca. 1390– 1410) For þe feueres writ on a saugelef christus tonat ⁊ ete þat þe ferst day ⁊ sey a pater noster ⁊ an Aue ⁊ a Credo þe secund day writ on anoþer angelus nunciat ⁊ ete it ⁊ sey ij. Pater noster. ij Aue ⁊ ij Credo. þe thridde day writ on an oþer lef Iohannes predicat ⁊ ete it ⁊ sey iij pater noster ⁊ iij Aue ⁊ iij Credo ⁊ whan þu art hol do singe thre masses þe ferst of þe holi gost þe secund of seint Miȝhel þe thridde of seint iohn baptist ⁊ euer after whan þu herist þe feueres nemened blesse þe ⁊ sey an Aue maria.

The Latin portions of the charm can be translated as “Christ thunders,” “the angel announces,” and “John foretells.” Sage leaves are also used against fever in Cambridge, Corpus Christi College, MS 405, vol. 4, fol. 123v; Cambridge University Library, MS Dd.4.44, fol. 29r; British Library, Additional MSS 15236, fol. 46r, 17866, fols. 38v– 39r, and 33996, fol. 119v, and Sloane MS 475, fols. 22v– 23r and 97r-v; Wellcome Library, MS 542, fol. 17v; Beinecke Rare Book & Manuscript Library, Takamiya MS 46, fol. 36r– v; and Bodleian Library, MS Ashmole 1447, part 2, p. 29.

in the Bible. The Glossa ordinaria notes that when the Bible depicts texts being consumed, it distinguishes between the eating and drinking of sa­ cred writing. When scripture is unintelligible without exposition, it is rep­ resented as food, while when it can be understood easily, it is represented as drink.82 Biblical depictions of text being eaten relate, therefore, to texts that cannot be immediately interpreted. In the second chapter of the book of Ezekiel, for example, Ezekiel experiences a vision in which he is called to become a prophet. A spirit appears to him and holds out “a book rolled up,” which is then spread out to show that it is full of “lamentations, and canticles, and woe.” The spirit commands Ezekiel to eat it, saying, “Son of man, eat all that thou shalt find: eat this book, and go speak to the children 82. Bibliorum sacrorum, vol. 6, col. 1563.

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Box 1.7 Childbirth Charms Written on Butter or Cheese British LiBrary, sLoane Ms 431, foL. 44r (ca. 1200– 1240) Si mulier non potest pare. scribe in caseo uel butiro ⁊ da ei manducare christus fuit natus de uirgine Maria. ⁊ Iohannes de elisabeth. adiuro te infans per patrem ⁊ filium ⁊ spiritum sanctum si puer es an puella: christus te appellat foras. If a woman is unable to give birth, write on cheese or butter and give it to her to eat: “Christ was born from the Virgin Mary, and John from Elizabeth. I adjure you, infant, through the Father and the Son and the Holy Spirit. Whether you are a boy or a girl, Christ calls you forth.”

British LiBrary, egerton Ms 833 , foL. 10r (ca. 1450– 1500) Another tak ⁊ wryte thir [sic] wordes in butter or chese ⁊ gar hir ete hit. Sator arrepo tenet opera rotas.

Other charms in which texts written on butter or cheese are used in childbirth appear in Lincoln Cathedral Library, MS 91, fol. 303v; British Library, Additional MS 17866, fol. 40v, Sloane MS 431, fol. 50v; and Beinecke Rare Book & Manuscript Library, Takamiya MS 46, fol. 37v.

of Israel.”83 Although the event is described in some detail, the text of the book is never specified beyond generic description. This reduces the importance of reading and emphasizes the physical interaction between the written material and its recipient. Eating the book allows Ezekiel to ex­ perience the text’s sweetness and to incorporate it into his own prophecy. 83. Ezekiel 2:8– 3:3: “Tu autem, fili hominis, audi quaecumque loquor ad te, et noli esse exasperans, sicut domus exasperatrix est: aperi os tuum, et comede quaecumque ego do tibi. Et vidi: et ecce manus missa ad me, in qua erat involutus liber: et expandit illum coram me, qui erat scriptus intus et foris: et scriptæ erant in eo lamentationes, et carmen, et vae. Et dixit ad me: Fili hominis, quodcumque inveneris, comede: comede volumen istud, et vadens loquere ad filios Israel. Et aperui os meum, et cibavit me volumine illo: et dixit ad me: Fili hominis venter tuus comedet, et viscera tua

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The book of Revelation provides a similar precedent.84 An angel hold­ ing an open book appears to St. John and instructs him to eat it, saying that “it shall make thy belly bitter, but in thy mouth it shall be sweet as honey.”85 As in the previous example, the consumption of the book goes hand in hand with a heavenly command to prophesy, in this case “to many nations, and peoples, and tongues, and kings.” In both of these passages, therefore, the act of eating text creates privileged speech. It also transforms the written word, accessible only to the educated few, into speech that can be broadcast orally by the prophet. Eating the book allows it to be more fully understood, and by more people. Although the connection with heal­ ing charms is not as direct as in the example from the book of Numbers, these biblical passages reinforce the idea that eating a text could be a way to experience it richly and fully. Furthermore, they imply that through consumption, the recipient would incorporate the text and thereby be changed, just as patients would experience physical change by ingesting sacred material, including the texts of written charms. complebuntur volumine isto quod ego do tibi. Et comedi illud, et factum est in ore meo sicut mel dulce” (But thou, O son of man, hear all that I say to thee: and do not thou provoke me, as that house provoketh me: open thy mouth, and eat what I give thee. And I looked, and behold, a hand was sent to me, wherein was a book rolled up: and he spread it before me, and it was written within and without: and there were written in it lamentations, and canticles, and woe. And he said to me: Son of man, eat all that thou shalt find: eat this book, and go speak to the children of Israel. And I opened my mouth, and he caused me to eat that book: And he said to me: Son of man, thy belly shall eat, and thy bowels shall be filled with this book, which I give thee. And I did eat it: and it was sweet as honey in my mouth). 84. Discussion of these passages alongside examples of edible text in medieval literary works can be found in Alastair Minnis, “Aggressive Chaucer: Of Dolls, Drink, and Dante,” in The Medieval Translator: Traduire Au Moyen Age 16, ed. Pieter De Leemans and Michèle Goyens (Turnhout: Brepols, 2017), 369– 71. See also Shannon Gayk, “‘Ete This Book’: Literary Consumption and Poetic Invention in Capgrave’s Life of St. Katherine,” in Form and Reform: Reading across the Fifteenth Century, ed. Shannon Gayk and Kathleen Tonry (Columbus: Ohio State University Press, 2011), 88– 109. 85. Revelation 10:9– 11: “Et abii ad angelum, dicens ei, ut daret mihi librum. Et dixit mihi: Accipe lubrum, at devora illum: et faciet amaricari ventrem tuum, sed in ore tuo erit dulce tamquam mel. Et accipi librum de manu angeli, et devoravi illum: et erat in ore meo tamquam mel dulce, et cum devorassem eum, amaricatus est venter meus: et dixit mihi: Oportet te iterum prophetare gentibus, et populis, et linguis, et regibus multis” (And I went to the angel, saying unto him, that he should give me the book. And he said to me: Take the book, and eat it up: and it shall make thy belly bitter, but in thy mouth it shall be sweet as honey. And I took the book from the hand of the angel, and ate it up: and it was in my mouth, sweet as honey, and when I had eaten it, my belly was bitter. And he said to me: Thou must prophesy again to many nations, and peoples, and tongues, and kings).

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G. J. C. Snoek argues that the miracles performed by contact relics such as ablution water, and by associated items such as the consecrated Host or the paten, differed very little from the miracles performed by bodily relics.86 I would extend this argument, for it seems that the same assump­ tions about power transfer that lay behind the ingestion of sacred material, or of water that had been in contact with it, also lay behind the treatment of medieval textual charms. Although the texts had power without need­ ing to be in physical contact with holy material, they behaved in analogous ways. More specifically, I contend that text itself could function as if it were a relic, with the sacred names invoked by the charm conferring the powers of a contact relic on the everyday material on which the text was written.

The Word Made Flesh and the Text Made Relic In some medieval charms, the word that represents a particular saint can stand in for that saint’s presence. Saints, via their relics on earth, were commonly called upon for medical assistance in the medieval period. Pilgrims would seek medical help from saints by traveling to their shrines or by carrying their relics with them. They might approach or touch the saint’s bodily remains or contact relics or, in the case of the elite, wear a reliquary pendant containing a piece of the saint’s remains. When Thomas Legh and Richard Layton performed their inspection of the monasteries of Yorkshire on behalf of Henry VIII and Thomas Cromwell, starting in 1535, they encountered a wide range of healing relics. These included the shirt of St. Thomas to help pregnant women, the hat of Thomas of Lan­ caster for use against headache, and numerous saintly belts and girdles for assistance in childbirth.87 Of course, not all relics were available for pilgrims to touch directly: churches occluded many notable relics— in other words, larger body­part relics— within reliquaries, and some smaller relics received the same treatment.88 Their power functioned by proximity as well as by contact. Some written charms mimic the practice of seeking healing near a 86. Snoek, Medieval Piety, 350. Snoek also notes, on p. 351, that healing miracles more commonly made use of the corporal, paten, or ablution water than of the Host itself. 87. Thomas Legh and Richard Layton, “Compendium compertorum per Doctorem Legh et Doctorem Layton in visitatione regia provinciæ Eboracensis,” in Annales Eliæ de Trickingham monachi ordinis Benedictini, ed. Samuel Pegge (London: ex officina Nicholsiana, 1789), 80, 100. I discuss birth girdles in more detail below. 88. Robyn Malo, “The Pardoner’s Relics (And Why They Matter the Most),” Chaucer Review 43, no. 1 (2008): 82– 102, and Relics and Writing, especially 30– 39.

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saint’s relics. At a shrine, the hopeful patient attracted the saint’s attention by placing himself or herself in physical proximity to the saint’s remains or belongings, whether or not the relics could actually be touched. The saint’s body parts or possessions provided a means of communicating with the soul of the saint in heaven, allowing that saint to intercede with God on behalf of the patient. Patients without access to relics, however, could use text to draw saintly and divine attention to their suffering. For example, one charm for the pox that appears in at least seven manuscripts dating from the eleventh to the fifteenth centuries tells the story of St. Nichasius— also known as Cassius— who is now considered the patron saint of smallpox victims (box 1.8). Although the charm varies from man­ uscript to manuscript and appears in both English verse and Latin prose, the essential aspect remains the same. The recipe explains both what the patient must do to receive the benefits of the charm and the reasons for the charm’s efficacy: that St. Nichasius asked God to protect anyone who wore his written name. Nichasius’s request therefore creates an oppor­ tunity for patients to access his assistance through a physical object not usually considered sacred: in this case, the written text. The saint’s writ­ ten name stands in for the physical presence and intercessory promise of a relic, allowing patients to replicate the healing benefits without being near the bodily remains. Since the patient is protected for as long as he or she carries Nichasius’s name, the written charm also creates a potentially permanent safeguard from harm. A somewhat similar charm tells the patient to carry the name of St. Apollonia, who was martyred after having all of her teeth knocked out. Her relics were therefore thought to be particularly effective against tooth­ ache. This example takes the form of a prayer to Apollonia as a charm against that condition (box 1.9). As in the Nichasius charm, the prayer includes the statement that Apollonia prayed to God that anyone who car­ ried her name on them should be protected from toothache. Although not all versions of the charm explicitly tell the user to write down Apollonia’s name and carry it, the implication of her prayer is clear. The charm could presumably be used both as a spoken charm and as an instruction telling the patient to write Apollonia’s name and use it as a textual amulet. When the patient carried the written name, most likely as an amulet around the neck, that name functioned as would Apollonia’s relics. In the examples both of Nichasius and Apollonia, the charm contains a narrative explaining why the written name of the saint might assume healing properties. In other instances, the names of saints are used with­ out explanation within the charm. For example, the names of the Three Kings could protect against cramps or the falling sickness, perhaps because

Box 1.8 Nichasius Charms British LiBrary, cotton Ms caLiguLa a Xv, foL. 129r (ca. 1050– 1100) Wið poccas. Sanctus nicasius habuit minutam uariolam & rogauit dominum ut quicumque nomen suum secum portare scriptum. Sancte nicasi presul & martir egregie ora prome. N peccatore & abhoc morbo tua intercessione me defende. Amen. Against the pox. Saint Nichasius had smallpox and he asked the Lord that whoever carried his written name with him [. . .]. O Saint Nichasius, bishop and illustrious martyr, pray for me [name], a sinner, and by your intercession protect me from this disease. Amen.

British LiBrary, additionaL Ms 17866, foL. 21r– v (ca. 1350– 1400) For the pockes. Seynt Nichasy hadde a pok þat was nouȝt small. And mekyl greuance he hadde with all. He prayde to gode þat hym dere bought. Who so enterlyke hym be sought. That he hym fro þe pokkes schude were. If he on hym wretyn his name walde bere.

BodLeian LiBrary, Ms raWLinson c 211, foL. 6r– v (ca. 1400– 1500) For þe wertis a proued medicyne Seynt Nichasius hadde a litill wert on his body and he be souȝt god in his lyf þat who so euer bere his name wryten on hym þat he shuld haue no wert and god grauntid him his bone and his name wreten in good parchement all his lyf.

Charms that refer to Nichasius, mostly for pox but also for worms, toothache, and a macula, or spot, in the eye, appear in Cambridge University Library, Additional MS 9308, fols. 51v– 52r; Durham University Library, MSS Cosin V.III.10, part C, fol. 38v, and V.IV.1, fol. 32r; British Library, Additional MS 33996, fols. 104v and 179r, Harley MS 2380, fol. 69v, Royal MS 2 A xx, fol. 52r, and Sloane MS 1314, fol. 38r; and Beinecke Rare Book & Manuscript Library, Takamiya MS 46, fol. 20r– v. A copy also appeared in British Library, Cotton MS Otho A xiii,

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Box 1.8 (continued ) which was destroyed in the Cotton Library fire at Ashburnham House. The charm was transcribed before the manuscript was lost and is printed in Bruce Dickins and R. M. Wilson, “Sent Kasi,” Leeds Studies in English 6 (1937): 72. In some variations, the charm is used to treat horse disease, as below:

British LiBrary, sLoane Ms 431, foL. 44v (ca. 1200– 1240) Si equus farcinum habuerit: scribe hoc in breue ⁊ in dexteram aurem equi pone Sanctus nichasius habuit minutam uariolam. ⁊ orauit ad dominum ut quicumque nomen suum super se portaret scriptum: non haberet hoc malum. Sanctus nichasius oret pro te +. opas. +. nolipas. +. Opium. +. Nopium. Dracones sunt. ⁊ alij dracones sunt. tendula. pendula. In nomine. Domini mortuus est uermis. Pater noster. iii. Hoc facies semel ante solis occasum ⁊ ante solis ortum. ⁊ iterum post solis occasum. If a horse has farcy, write this in a note and put it in the right ear of the horse: Saint Nichasius had smallpox and he prayed to the Lord that whoever carried his written name upon him should not have this disease. May Saint Nichasius pray for you +. Opas. +. Nolipas. +. Opium. +. Nopium. Dragons exist and other dragons exist. Tendula. pendula. In the name of the Lord, the worm is dead. Three Pater Nosters. Do this once before sunset and before sunrise and again after sunset.

Similar charms appear in Cambridge University Library, MS Dd.4.44, fols. 27v and 28v (two examples), and British Library, Cotton MS Julius D viii, fol. 117v.

they fell to their knees to worship the infant Christ.89 To cure fever or in­ somnia, one might use the names of the Seven Sleepers of Ephesus, who 89. Lea T. Olsan, “Charms in Medieval Memory,” in Charms and Charming in Europe, ed. Jonathan Roper (New York: Palgrave Macmillan, 2004), 72. Against cramps, Three Kings charms appear in Lincoln Cathedral Library, MS 91, fol. 297r–v; British Library, Egerton MS 833, fol. 2r; and York Minster Library, MS XVI.E.32, fol. 37v.

Box 1.9 Apollonia Charms WeLLcoMe LiBrary, Ms 542, foL. 13r (ca. 1400– 1430) [H]ere is a charm for þe toth ache. Virgo serenissima beata appollina ora pro nobis ad dominum. Sancta appollina pro domino graue sustinuit ma[r]tirium. Tyranni eius dentes cum malleis fregerunt ⁊ hoc tormento orauit ad dominum vt quicumque nomen eius secum portauerit in terris dolorem non haberet in dentibus. Ora pro nobis beata appollina. vt deus dolorem in dentibus famuli expellat. oratio. Deus qui beatam appollinam de manibus inimicorum liberasti ⁊ eius oracionem exaudisti te queso domine per eius intercessionem ⁊ beati laurencij martiris tui vt dolorem a dentibus meis expellas sanum ⁊ in columen me facias. Per dominum nostrum. Most serene virgin, blessed Apollonia, pray to the Lord for us. St. Apollonia sustained painful martyrdom for the Lord. Tyrants shattered her teeth with hammers, and in this torment she prayed to the Lord that whoever would carry her name with them on earth should have no pain in their teeth. Pray for us, blessed Apollonia, that God drive out pain in the teeth of his servant. Prayer. O God, who liberated blessed Apollonia from the hands of her enemies and heard her prayer, I beg you, Lord, through her intercession and that of your blessed martyr Laurence that you drive out the pain from my teeth and make me safe and unharmed. Through our Lord.

Other examples of similar charms can be found in Cambridge University Library, MS Additional 9308, fol. 52v; Durham University Library, MS Cosin V.IV.1, fol. 34v; British Library, Additional MS 33996, fols. 104v– 5r, Harley MS 273, fols. 213v– 14r, and Sloane MSS 119, fol. 38v, and 1314, fol. 38r– v; and York Minster Library, MS XVI.E.32, fols. 77r and 80v– 81r. Toothache charms that refer to St. Apollonia but do not include specific reference to her written name may be found, for example, in Cambridge, Corpus Christi College, MS 308, p. 17; Lincoln Cathedral Library, MS 91, fol. 287v; and British Library, Additional MSS 15236, fol. 61v, and 33996, fols. 138v– 39r and 179r.

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supposedly hid in a cave to escape religious persecution and woke up cen­ turies later— a promising narrative to power a sleeping pill, written vari­ ously on leek leaves, communion wafers, a knife handle, and parchment.90 A related type of charm involves writing names that derive their healing power from the parallels they create between the patient and the person named. As we have seen, in the common charm against bleeding where the name of Veronica is written on the patient’s forehead, the patient is iden­ tified with the woman healed of bleeding in the gospels (box 1.1, above). This collapses the distance between the biblical recipient of healing and the medieval patient, blurring the boundaries between contemporary and biblical narratives. The text creates an association by analogy between Veronica— the saintly source signified by the text— and the patient on whom the text is written. In the same way, the textual charms discussed above create an association by analogy between the saint named in the text and the parchment or paper on which the text is written. Just as the patient “becomes” Veronica once her name has been written on his or her body, the parchment “becomes” a relic of the saint whose name it carries. But text could also create what one might call “substitute relics,” which did not use the saint’s name. A striking example is the birth girdle, a pro­ tective amulet that could be wrapped around or placed on top of a preg­ nant woman’s belly before or during labor. The use of such girdles is pre­ Christian, but they were quickly Christianized and treated as if they were relics of the saints.91 They were most commonly associated with the Virgin Against the falling sickness, the names appear either alone or as part of a sentence describing the gifts they brought to Christ in Cambridge, Corpus Christi College, MS 388, fol. 32v; Cambridge University Library, Additional MS 9308, fols. 53v– 54r, and MS Ll.1.18, fol. 76v; Durham University Library, MSS Cosin V.IV.1, fol. 28r– v, and V.IV.8, fol. 16r; Lincoln Cathedral Library, MSS 88, fol. 129v, and 91, fol. 297r (three examples); British Library, Additional MS 33996, fols. 105v and 169v, Harley MS 2380, fols. 42r (three examples) and 45r, Sloane MSS 431, fol. 25r, and 1314, fol. 38v; Wellcome Library, MS 542, fol. 13v; Bodleian Library, MS Bodley 761, fol. 6r, and MS Wood empt. 18, fols. 121v– 22r; and York Minster Library, MS XVI.E.32, fols. 4r, 4v, 36r–v, 36v, 142v, and 151v. 90. Fever and insomnia charms that name the Seven Sleepers appear in British Library, Harley MSS 273, fol. 213r, and 585, fol. 167r– v, Royal MS 12 E xx, fol. 162v, Sloane MS 431, fol. 45r; Vatican, Biblioteca Apostolica, Reg. Lat. 338, fol. 91r; and York Minster Library, MS XVI.E.32, fols. 172r and 173r. The story of the Seven Sleepers appears in Jacobus de Voragine, The Golden Legend: Readings on the Saints, trans. William Granger Ryan (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 2012), 401–4. 91. For information on birth girdles generally, see Katherine Storm Hindley, “‘Yf a Woman Travell Wyth Chylde Gyrdes Thys Mesure Abowte Hyr Wombe’: Reconsidering the English Birth Girdle Tradition,” in Continuous Page: Scrolls and Scrolling from Papyrus to Hypertext, ed. Jack Hartnell (London: Courtauld Books Online, 2020); Peter

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Mary, who was said to have appeared to Doubting Thomas after her death and handed her girdle down to him to prove that her physical body had been taken up into heaven.92 Although the most famous girdle­relic, said to have belonged to the Virgin herself, was held at Westminster Abbey, numerous churches across England owned similar belt­ or girdle­relics that could provide protection to a woman in labor.93 In Yorkshire alone, the 1535 visitation of Layton and Legh found sixteen belts and girdles spe­ cifically used for protection in childbirth, as well as eleven others whose purposes were not specified.94 Manuscript birth girdles mimicked these birth girdle­relics in parch­ ment and served the same purpose. An example of such a girdle is MS 632 of the Wellcome Library in London, a fifteenth­century manuscript prayer roll that contains, on the recto, a series of common prayers and devotional images. These include pictures of the cross, the three nails with which Christ was crucified, the five wounds of Christ, and the instruments of the Passion. Most of the time these texts would presumably have been read like any others. On the dorse, however, is an inscription explaining that a pregnant woman could also wrap the manuscript around herself for protection in childbirth and that the roll could be carried as an amulet against a variety of dangers. The text guarantees benefits such as safety in Murray Jones and Lea T. Olsan, “Performative Rituals for Conception and Childbirth in England, 900– 1500,” Bulletin of the History of Medicine 89, no. 3 (Fall 2015): 406– 33; Mary Morse, “Alongside St. Margaret: The Childbirth Cult of SS Quiricus and Julitta in Late Medieval English Manuscripts,” in Manuscripts and Printed Books in Europe 1350– 1500: Packaging, Presentation and Consumption, ed. Emma Cayley and Susan Powell (Liverpool: Liverpool University Press, 2013), 187– 206; Joseph J. Gwara and Mary Morse, “A Birth Girdle Printed by Wynkyn De Worde,” Library 13, no. 1 (March 2012): 33– 61; and Walter J. Dilling, “Girdles: Their Origin and Development, Particularly with Regard to Their Use as Charms in Medicine, Marriage, and Midwifery,” Caledonian Medical Journal 9, no. 8 (1913): 337– 57, and no. 9 (1914): 403– 25. 92. See, for example, Clifford Davidson, ed., “The Assumption of the Virgin (Thomas Apostolus),” in The York Corpus Christi Plays (Kalamazoo, MI: Medieval Institute Publications, 2011), 373. 93. William Douglas Hamilton, ed., A Chronicle of England during the Reigns of the Tudors, from A.D. 1485 to 1559 (Westminster: J. B. Nichols and Sons, for the Camden Society, 1875), 31. 94. The girdles for protection of pregnant women are those of St. Francis at the Priory of Grace Dieu, St. Bernard at Melsa (or Meaux) and Kirkstall, St. Ailred at Rievaulx, St. Werburgh at Chester, St. Robert at Newminster, St. Saviour at Newburgh, Thomas of Lancaster at Pontefract Priory, St. Margaret at Tynemouth, the belt belonging to the former prior of Holy Trinity in York, the girdle of Mary Nevill at Coverham, and those of the Virgin at Haltemprise, Calder, Conished, Kirkham, and Jervaulx. See Legh and Layton, “Compendium compertorum,” 77– 111.

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Fig. 1.1 Wellcome Library, MS 632, dorse. Photograph: Wellcome Collections.

battle and protection from devils, fire, wrongful judgment, and pestilence. It ends: And yf a woman travell wyth chylde gyrde thys mesure [i.e., the roll] abowte hyr wombe ⁊ she shall be safe delyverd wythowte parelle and the chylde shall have crystendome ⁊ the mother puryfycacyon.95

The reference to the roll as a “mesure” relates to the way it gains its power: its length expresses a sacred piece of information. The extent of the manuscript— now 330 cm, following the loss of some material at the head— measures the heights of Christ and the Virgin Mary. The main inscription on the dorse of the roll claims to be a “mesu[re] of the length off ou[re Lord J]esu,” while an additional section, marked off by crosses, notes: “Thus moche more ys oure lady seynt mary lenger” (fig. 1.1).96 In addition to explaining how to use the roll, the inscription metaphor­ ically transforms the manuscript into a relic. While the texts on the front of the roll run down the manuscript in a column— the typical direction of text for medieval rolls— the text on the back runs continuously along it. The instructions for using the manuscript as a girdle, then, are written in two lines along its full length. In order to read the instructions explain­ ing how to use the girdle, the user must change the orientation of the manuscript so that it is fully unrolled and held horizontally— like a belt or girdle, rather than an ordinary manuscript roll. From this position, the manuscript is ready to be wrapped around the woman. The inscription therefore uses the reader’s interaction with the text to emphasize the phys­ 95. Wellcome Library, MS 632, dorse. There is a similar inscription on the dorse of another manuscript birth girdle, Beinecke Rare Book & Manuscript Library, Takamiya MS 56. 96. Wellcome Library, MS 632, dorse. Gwara and Morse, “Birth Girdle,” 37, notes the association with the height of the Virgin.

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ical similarity between the girdle­relic and its parchment mimic. Although the words of the text do not act as a relic in this example, the use of the written word encourages the reader to interact with the roll as if it were in fact a material girdle­relic. The accurate measurement of Christ or Mary, conveyed by the material length of the manuscript roll, gives its user access to divine power in much the same way as is supposed to occur in relic veneration, when a holy body or body part acts as the medium for conveying divine assistance to the patient. Unlike the saints who left bodily relics on Earth, both Christ and the Virgin were taken up into heaven. Although some churches claimed to have relics that had been left on Earth, such as Christ’s teeth or fore­ skin, or the Virgin’s hair, these were not always accepted as authentic.97 Standing in for the sense of proximity generated by a physical relic, the measurements gave a sense of the corporeal presence of holy figures who could not be approached through bodily remains. Measurement thus be­ came a common element of devotion. Amuletic images might record the dimensions of Christ’s wound or the actual size of the nails with which he was crucified. But measurement could also work in the opposite direc­ tion: from at least the sixth century, a sick person, or their afflicted body part, might be measured with a piece of string, which was then used to make the wick of a candle to be presented at the saint’s shrine. Here, the measurement relates to the patient’s body and directs the saint’s attention to the part of the body that requires healing.98 As with the use of saints’ names to create “substitute relics” in written charms, measurement created a physical relationship between the patient and the saint. The written word structures the patient’s experience of the manuscript girdle and is presented as an assurance of its power. A description of tex­ tual production underpins the value of the divine measure, for the manu­ script treats text as a guarantee of accuracy and sacred power even when that power does not stem from the text itself. The dorse text includes a history of the measure of Christ, which claims that it was wryttyn in letters of gold and send ffrome hevyn by an Aungell to the pope leo that tyme beynge in Rome and sayd to hym in thys maner wyse / who so beryth thys mesure vppon hym wyth trewe ffayth and 97. Freeman, Holy Bones, 118– 19. 98. For a study of measured images, see David S. Areford, “The Passion Measured: A Late-Medieval Diagram of the Body of Christ,” in Broken Body, 211– 38. For more on the practice of measuring patients to saints, see Finucane, Miracles and Pilgrims, 95– 96.

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good devocyon sayinge v pater nosters v aves ⁊ a credo in the worshypp of hym that thys mesure ys of / he shall never be slayne in batell.99

The significant fact of Christ’s height begins in one nontextual form (Christ himself) and ends in another (the length of the roll). This in­ scription inserts a textual guarantee between these two nontextual rep­ resentations, claiming that the measurement was transmitted “wryttyn in letters of gold.” Although the transfer of power to the user is enabled by the length of the roll, rather than by any explanation in words or numbers of what the measure is, text is presented as a crucial means of divine com­ munication through which the girdle’s power is assured. The story describing the origin of the girdle measurement may be con­ trasted with the origins given for various versions of the ancient Heav­ enly Letter, an amuletic text often said to have been written by Christ in response to a request for healing.100 László Sándor Chardonnens and Rosanne Hebing draw attention to a version of the text that opens with the explanation “Ioseph of Barmaphe founde this lettre vppon our lord ihesu crist woundes at the takyng downe of the cros The which was wrytin be our lord ffyngers.”101 Although this narrative initially seems similar to that of the measure, the original sacred object that this charm recreates is a letter— a written text. The written copy transmits the text of the sacred letter, and the reference to “this letter” elides the medieval scribe’s copy with the original written by Christ’s own fingers. The birth girdle inscrip­ 99. Wellcome Library, MS 632, dorse. 100. For more on the Heavenly Letter and similar charms, see Rosanne Hebing, “The Textual Tradition of Heavenly Letter Charms in Anglo-Saxon Manuscripts,” in Secular Learning in Anglo-Saxon England: Exploring the Vernacular, ed. László Sándor Chardonnens and Bryan Carella, Amsterdamer Beiträge Zur Älteren Germanistik 69 (Amsterdam: Rodopi, 2012), 202– 22; Dorothy Haines, ed., Sunday Observance and the Sunday Letter in Anglo-Saxon England (Woodbridge, UK: D. S. Brewer, 2010); Jordan Zweck, “Letters from Heaven in the British Isles, 800– 1500” (PhD diss., Yale University, 2010); Christopher M. Cain, “Sacred Words, Anglo- Saxon Piety, and the Origins of the Epistola salvatoris in London, British Library, Royal 2.A.xx,” Journal of English and Germanic Philology 108, no. 2 (April 2009): 168– 89; and W. R. Jones, “The Heavenly Letter in Medieval England,” Medievalia et Humanistica: Studies in Medieval and Renaissance Culture 6 (1975): 163– 78. 101. László Sándor Chardonnens and Rosanne Hebing, “Two Charms in a Late Medieval English Manuscript at Nijmegen University Library,” Review of English Studies 62, no. 254 (April 2011): 186. The manuscript described in the article is Nijmegen, Universiteitsbibliotheek, HS 194, with the charms appearing at fols. 146v– 47r. Chardonnens and Hebing identify a Latin analog to this charm in Bodleian Library, MS Rawlinson C 814, fols. 7v– 8r, as well as sixteenth-century examples in both Latin and English.

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tion, on the other hand, assigns a textual history, “wryttyn in letters of gold,” to a measurement that is otherwise represented without the use of writing. The birth girdle inscription makes no attempt to recreate the text that supposedly brought the measurement from heaven, and any state­ ment of the measurement in letters or numbers would convey its essential quality— length— in a less palpable fashion than the method used by the birth girdle itself.102 The theoretical presence of the heavenly writing, even though its content is not specified and hence is unknown to the reader of the birth girdle, guarantees the value of the measurement and validates its ability to function like a relic.

Protecting Margery Kempe We have seen how materiality, textuality, and divine power functioned in related ways in charm discourse and in the use of relics for healing and protection. Assumptions about the healing powers of holy matter and protective texts seem to have developed in parallel. While it is easy to assume that ideas about relics, which were the subject of theological discussion, influenced ideas about textual amulets, which were not, the discourse surrounding divine and amuletic protection demonstrates that the situation was more complex. Language about healing and protection transferred easily between religious artifacts, written charms, and medie­ val literary texts. On some occasions, charm discourse even entered into medieval piety. One example of such linguistic transfer concerns the promise of pro­ tection from weapons, fire, and water, which is common in later medieval English charms but does not seem to be used in early medieval ones. The promise appears to move from religious and literary contexts into the protective guarantees of charms, which then influence religious and lit­ erary writing in turn. Similar phrases describe the protection offered by amulets— textual and nontextual— and by God, suggesting that authors discussing one form of protection were happy to draw on the language used to describe the other. Writing in the early twelfth century, Anselm of Canterbury (1033– 1109) 102. It is, of course, possible to represent length in words. An example can be seen in the late medieval medical miscellany New Haven, Yale Center for British Art, R486 .M43 1450, fol. 114v. The text explains the origin of the measurement of Christ, saying that “thys [. . .] was take of hym be an angell and [. . .]tyd to þe kynge of costantyne de noble ⁊ was closyd in gold” and finishes with the note “longitudo duarum virgarum ⁊ vnum pollex” (the length of two yards and one inch).

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stated that in heaven “electis . . . dei nulla laesio supervenire poterit, non ferrum, non ignis, non aqua, non aliqua malorum mentio nocebit eis” (no harm will be able to come to God’s chosen: neither iron, nor fire, nor water, nor any mention of evil will harm them).103 A similar description of divine protection from fire, water, and weapons soon appeared in a more literary context— in the romance Floris and Blancheflour, the first version of which dates from the second half of the twelfth century.104 The romance deals with the love between the pagan prince Floris and the Christian slave Blancheflour, and with Floris’s attempts to find and rescue Blancheflour after she is sold abroad. As in other versions of the story, the thirteenth­century Middle English translation relates the speech made by Floris’s mother when she gives him a magical ring: Have nou, sone, here þis ring. While þou hit hast, doute þee noþing, Ne fir þe brenne ne drenchen in se, Ne iren ne stel schal derie þe; ⁊ be hit erli and be hit late, To þi wille þou schalt haue whate.105 ( line s 9– 14)

Although the ring never displays its physically protective qualities in this version of the text, Floris does eventually achieve his desires, as prom­ ised.106 He is reunited with his love, Blancheflour, they are married— in one version apparently with the magical ring— and he converts to Chris­

103. R. W. Southern and F. S. Schmitt, ed., “Alexandri monachi Cantuariensis liber ex dictis beati Anselmi,” in Memorials of St. Anselm, Auctores Britannici Medii Aevi 1 (London: British Academy, 1969), 132. 104. Jean-Luc Leclanche, ed., Le Conte de Floire et Blancheflor (Paris: Librairie Honoré Champion, 1980), 11. 105. Franciscus Catharina de Vries, ed., Floris and Blauncheflur (Groningen: Druk, 1966), 80. I quote here from the version of the poem in National Library of Scotland, Advocates’ MS 19.2.1 (the Auchinleck Manuscript), produced in the 1330s and designated by de Vries as A. The line numbers given are for that manuscript, which begins imperfectly. The corresponding section begins at line 375 in de Vries’s MS E— British Library, Egerton MS 2862— which is simultaneously more abridged, more apparently corrupt, and more physically complete than A: see de Vries, pp. 5 and 11. On the date of the poem, see de Vries, pp. 50– 51. 106. This guarantee only appears in two of the three manuscripts that contain this section of the poem. In the third, de Vries’s MS E, the queen’s speech ends after promising safety from iron and steel. See de Vries, Floris and Blauncheflur, 80– 81.

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tianity.107 The phenomenal popularity of this romance, which was trans­ lated into numerous medieval languages, may explain the appearance of very similar promises of protection in amuletic texts.108 Such promises are especially common in later copies of the Heavenly Letter, many of which claim to have been brought from heaven to Charlemagne— supposedly the grandson of Floris and Blancheflour themselves.109 Although early medieval versions of the Heavenly Letter do not promise protection from fire, water, and weapons, later versions do. For example, the Bodleian Library’s fourteenth­century MS Rawlinson C 814 contains two versions of Heavenly Letters. The first is the Prière de Charlemagne, said to have been given by an angel to Charlemagne for protection during the battle of Roncesvalles, sometimes with a pope as an intermediary.110 The second is the Letter of Joseph of Arimathea, said to have been found on Christ’s wounds.111 The Prière de Charlemagne promises— among many other benefits— that its user will not “in batayle be ouercome. ne in fyr be brend. ne in water be dreynt.”112 The Letter of Joseph promises that “quicumque christianus illud portauerit in igne non conburetur. nec in aqua. peribit” (any Christian who carries this will not be burned up in fire, nor perish in water). The charm’s owner will also not suffer defeat (“victus permanebit”).113 Similar promises are found attached to various indulgenced images and amuletic texts from the late thirteenth century until the end of the Middle Ages and beyond. For example, the dorse of the birth girdle Wellcome MS 632 states that its owner will “never be slayne in batell . . . nor perysshed wyth ffyer nor water / nor blastys ne wyndys on water ne on lond shalnot greue hym.”114 In the prayer roll British Library, Additional MS 88929, an image of the cross carries the guarantee that its user will not “with thonder ne litenyng be hurt . . . ne with fyer be brent ne water be drowned” (fig. 1.2). Although the language describing supernatural protection is by no means identical in every case, the various charms share strong similarities not only with one another but also with earlier religious and literary texts. 107. De Vries, Floris and Blauncheflur, 118, MS A, line 823: “⁊ wedde here wiȝ here owene ringge.” The conversion appears on p. 120 of MS A, line 852. 108. Leclanche, Floire et Blancheflor, 7n6. 109. Leclanche, Floire et Blancheflor, 19, lines 7– 12. 110. L. Gougaud, “La prière dite de Charlemagne et les pièces apocryphes apparentés,” Revue d’Histoire Ecclésiastique 20 (1924): 227– 34. 111. Chardonnens and Hebing, “Two Charms,” 185– 90. 112. Bodleian Library, MS Rawlinson C 814, fol. 7r. 113. Bodleian Library, MS Rawlinson C 814, fol. 8r. 114. Wellcome Library, MS 632, dorse.

Fig. 1.2 British Library, Additional MS 88929, recto. Photograph: © The British Library Board.

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Similar language also appears in Margery Kempe’s account of her life as a holy woman, written in the 1430s.115 Kempe’s discussion seems con­ sciously to draw together written texts, the use of amulets, and the phys­ ical presence of a sacred figure. In the relevant passage, she experiences a vision of Christ after she “ymagyne[s] in hirself what deth sche mygth dyen for Crystys sake.” Christ thanks her for this imagined sacrifice and promises her: Thow schalt have the same mede in hevyn as thow thu suffredyst the same deth. And yet schal no man sle the, ne fyer bren the, ne watyr drynch the, ne wynd deryn the, for I may not forgetyn the how thow art wretyn in myn handys and my fete; it lykyn me wel the peynes that I have sufferyd for the.116

Previous scholars have noted that Christ’s response releases Kempe from any obligation to perform the martyrdom she imagines, equating contem­ plation of suffering with suffering itself.117 This is particularly pertinent given that she has just been accused of Lollard heresy and threatened with burning.118 However, it is also significant that the specific protections Christ offers do not just guard against the immediate threat but also echo the guarantees of safety attached to contemporary amuletic texts, partic­ ularly those that claimed to come from heaven. For a medieval reader, Kempe’s words would therefore recall the language of protection associ­ ated with common amuletic texts and images. The charms that make promises similar to those offered by Christ to Kempe often create for their readers some physical or intellectual experi­ ence of Christ or the Virgin, whose bodies were believed to be in heaven. For example, the length of the manuscript birth girdle discussed above 115. Shannon Gayk, “‘By Provocative Means’: Power, Protection, and Reproduction in Prince Henry’s Prayer Roll,” Exemplaria 29, no. 4 (2017): 305, notes the similarity between Christ’s promises to Kempe and the protections against death attached to the measured image of the cross in British Library, Additional MS 88929, a late fifteenth-century prayer roll that once belonged to the future Henry VIII. 116. Margery Kempe, The Book of Margery Kempe, ed. Barry Windeatt (Cambridge: D. S. Brewer, 2004), 98– 99. 117. Sarah Salih, “Margery’s Bodies: Piety, Work and Penance,” in A Companion to the Book of Margery Kempe, ed. John H. Arnold and Katherine J. Lewis (Cambridge: D. S. Brewer, 2004), 169; Ruth Evans, “The Book of Margery Kempe,” in A Companion to Medieval English Literature and Culture c.1350— c.1500, ed. Peter Brown (Oxford: Blackwell, 2007), 514. 118. Kempe, Book, 95– 96.

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replicates the heights of Christ and the Virgin in order to give its user a sense of their physical presence. The Heavenly Letters in MS Rawlinson C 814 contain a long list of the names of Christ, together with attributes such as “omnipotens” (all­powerful), “eternus” (eternal), and “nouissi­ mus” (utmost), which invite the reader to consider Christ’s divinity from a range of perspectives. In Additional MS 88929 the image of the cross, multiplied by fifteen, gives the height of Christ.119 Each of these charms therefore brings some aspect of Christ or the Virgin into the presence of the reader, performing the action of a physical relic. Relics of text and mea­ surement, which often use language similar to Christ’s promise to Kempe, may therefore have offered the faithful access to aspects of the sacred that physical relics could not. In the amuletic texts, Christ is made present to the charm users through words, images, and measurements. Christ’s promise to Kempe reverses the direction of that textual relationship: she is made present to Christ be­ cause, as he tells her, she is “wretyn in [his] handys and [his] fete.”120 The reference here is to Isaiah 49:15– 16, in which God addresses Zion, saying, “Ego tamen non obliviscar tui. Ecce in manibus meis descripsi te” (Yet will I not forget thee. Behold, I have graven thee in my hands). Shortly before, in Isaiah 48:13, the power of God’s hands has been emphasized: “Manus quoque mea fundavit terra, et dextera mea mensa est cælos” (My hand also hath founded the earth, and my right hand hath measured the heavens). God is therefore constantly reminded of Zion because it is marked onto his hands, with which he acts to create and protect. In Kempe’s account, however, Christ is mindful of her rather than of Zion, and her presence is inscribed not only on his hands but also on his feet. This aligns Christ’s “writing” of Kempe on his body with the wounds of the Crucifixion, an image common in late medieval literature. The interpretation of writing as wounds is further supported here by Christ’s immediate reference to his passion, specified as having been undertaken for her sake: “It lykyn me wel the peynes that I have sufferyd for the.” Although Christ’s speech is directed toward Kempe as an individual, the core idea here is, of course, that the wounds of Christ’s passion serve as a constant “textual” reminder of humankind, for whom he died. 119. British Library, Additional MS 88929: “This cros. xv tymes moten is the length of our lord ihesu criste.” 120. Kempe, Book, 98. The significance of Kempe being written on Christ’s hands and feet is also explored in Karma Lochrie, Margery Kempe and Translations of the Flesh, New Cultural Studies (Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press, 1991), 175– 76. Lochrie argues that the passage directs readers to Christ’s body as the primary text from which they can learn.

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Kempe makes the association between writing, wounding, and pro­ tection from harm when she imagines the pains of martyrdom. As in the written charms, which emphasize the necessity of devotion in order to re­ ceive similar protection, Christ’s promise of protection is prompted by her pious meditation. But whereas devout reading of those charms activates their benefits, Kempe’s devotion transcends the need for a textual charm. Christ bears the text, while she, written onto his body, figuratively partic­ ipates in his martyrdom.121 By deliberately playing with the conventions of written charms, Kempe emphasizes the presence of writing that creates a direct relationship between the holy woman and her suffering savior. The reciprocal relationship of devotion and protection here envisaged between Kempe and Christ may profitably be compared with the way in which the Wellcome Library birth girdle was meant to function. At the very end of the birth­girdle manuscript roll is a small, heavily worn im­ age depicting Christ displaying his bleeding wounds. Around this image, written on small drawings of scrolls, is a short poem in Middle English (figs. 1.3 and 1.4): Beholde and se that I for þe have woundys smerte I aske no more the raunsoum for but thy harte.122

This poem, not recorded elsewhere, belongs to a tradition of similar Querela divina poems that draw attention not to the heart of the faithful Chris­ tian but to the wounded heart of Christ.123 Furthermore, while Christ in the Querela divina asks his human interlocutor to love him and points out that he should be happy to do so, the version in the Wellcome birth girdle stresses the idea of exchange: “raunsoum” could mean both theological 121. Evans, “Margery Kempe,” 515. 122. Wellcome Library, MS 632 (DIMEV 796.5). I am grateful to Ian Green for the digital image processing that made this text legible. In this transcription I have inserted line breaks where the rhyme scheme demands them. 123. The Querela divina (DIMEV 3984) reads “Beholde & see / þat is for þe / percyd my hert,” almost always with an accompanying image of Christ’s heart or wounds. Jessica Brantley, Reading in the Wilderness: Private Devotion and Public Performance in Late Medieval England (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 2007), 215– 16. Brantley quotes from the version of the poem in British Library, Additional MS 37049, fol. 20r.

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Fig. 1.3 Wellcome Library, MS 632, recto. Photograph: Wellcome Collections.

redemption and a tax, tribute, or sum of money.124 The Wellcome version therefore places greater and more immediate emphasis on the compact between Christ and mankind. In the rest of the Wellcome roll, the instruments of the Passion are depicted along with rubrics listing the amuletic benefits they offer, many of which are activated by reading or examining the roll with devotion. In the final image, with its adaptation of the Querela divina, those instruments and wounds come together in association with an image of the Passion, recasting the benefits of the individual arma Christi as part of a direct, one­to­one relationship between the reader and Christ. In return for his 124. Middle English Dictionary (Ann Arbor: University of Michigan Library), s. v. “raunsoun, n,” accessed August 14, 2022, https://quod.lib.umich.edu/m/middle -english-dictionary/dictionary/MED36019/.

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F ig. 1.4 Wellcome Library, MS 632, recto [digitally enhanced]. Photograph: Wellcome Collections.

sacrifice, Christ asks for the reader’s devotion. The reader’s prayers then create the condition under which the amuletic benefits of the arma Christi images can be received. In turn, those images remind the reader of the suffering Christ, accompanied by Christ’s request for devotion. Viewed in this light, the roll becomes not only a protective object but also a spur to greater Christian faith. Both the Wellcome birth girdle and Margery Kempe’s allusion to the protection effected by charms disclose the role of written words in bring­ ing the devout Christian closer to Christ. The birth girdle represents a typical relationship: devotion to Christ’s suffering, represented by the text and images of the amulet, creates the hope of divine protection from harm. Kempe draws on this relationship but complicates it. Her medita­ tion on her own suffering, for love of Christ, prompts Christ to prom­ ise her protection from harm. By using charm language in this passage,

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Kempe suggests that an intimate relationship with Christ can be earned through devotion and not simply accessed through text. Kempe’s experi­ ence of Christ is unmediated, inasmuch as (according to her own account) he speaks directly with her, promising protection and a reward equal to that enjoyed by someone who has endured acutely painful martyrdom. In Kempe’s account, however, it is she, not Christ, who is represented by text. This text elides with the wounds of the Crucifixion, and Christ’s memory of Kempe thus becomes texts written on his body. In Christ, the Word has been made flesh; Margery Kempe, holy woman of Kings Lynn, has become words written on that very same flesh. In her vivid meditation, Christ, his wounds, her devotion, and the written word all come together in a single, indivisible image.

Conclusion In their use of charms and amulets, men and women in the Middle Ages seem to have drawn on assumptions characteristic of relic veneration to such an extent that words themselves were felt to impart sacred power to otherwise ordinary materials. Charms and relics were discussed in similar contexts, used for similar purposes, and interacted with in similar ways through eating, drinking, or physical contact. The parallels between the uses of relics and written words for protection and healing even appear in theological writings and influenced literary texts. Like the majority of the charm­texts I have found, the examples discussed above use biblical texts or deal with saints or biblical figures. As we will see in subsequent chapters, however, the parallels with relic use also extend to charms that are deliberately unintelligible. Although texts containing only the names of saints provide the closest and most obvious parallels with the use of relics for healing purposes, charms of all kinds were thought to transfer their powers in ways analogous to the agency of the bodies of saints. The very presence of a written text could allow direct access to the medical assistance of the saints, without even needing to be read.

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Before 1100: “Textual Magic” in Pre-Conquest England Textual Amulets in Roman Britain Verbal charms were used in Britain well before the medieval period. The Romans—including those in Roman Britain—also used efficacious words to influence the world around them. Understanding their practices allows us to see what was new and specific to the early medieval period in En­ gland in terms of the belief that spoken or written words might have power. Spoken charms seem to have been controversial for the Romans, even if many were recommended.1 Justinian’s Digest quotes the influential third­century jurist Ulpian, who likely traveled to Britain in AD 208– 211, as condemning the use of incantations in medical practice.2 People who use incantations, imprecations, or exorcisms, he argues, should not be counted as doctors because “these are not branches of medicine, even though people exist who forcibly assert that such people have helped them.”3 Other Roman writers are more positive: Pliny the Elder mentions twenty­seven spoken magical formulas in his Natural History and does not rule out the idea that speech has the power to protect and heal.4 1. Ricardus Heim, “Incantamenta Magica Graeca Latina,” Jahrbücher für classische Philologie 19 (1892): 465– 575, catalogs and edits a wide range of charms, both spoken and written. 2. Tony Honoré, Ulpian: Pioneer of Human Rights, 2nd ed. (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2002), 35. 3. Digest, 50.13.1.3, translated in Alan Watson, ed., The Digest of Justinian (Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press, 1998), 4:443. 4. Patricia Gaillard- Seux, “Magical Formulas in Pliny’s Natural History: Origins, Sources, Parallels,” in “Greek” and “Roman” in Latin Medical Texts: Studies in Cultural Change and Exchange in Ancient Medicine, ed. Brigitte Maire, Studies in Ancient Medicine 42 (Leiden: Brill, 2014), 204.

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Fig. 2.1 British Library, Royal MS 12 E xxiii, fol. 20r. Quintus Serenus Sammonicus’s amulet illustrated in a thirteenth-century manuscript. Photograph: © The British Library Board.

Roman medical authors also occasionally recommended the use of tex­ tual amulets, although it is not clear which of their writings were known in Britain. Quintus Serenus Sammonicus, a writer whose precise identity and dates are debated but who wrote some time between the end of the second century and the last third of the fourth century, suggests that words might

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be seen both as causing and as curing disease.5 His Liber medicinalis, also known as De medicina praecepta, describes the treatment for a fever known in Greek as hemitritaeon. He explains that it has no name in Latin; nor do parents want to name it, perhaps out of fear.6 One suggested remedy for this dangerous illness is a textual amulet consisting of the magical word abracadabra— the first recorded use of the term.7 The word should be hung around the patient’s neck, written on a sheet (charta) presumably of papyrus, parchment, or thin metal. Sammonicus explains: Inscribes chartae quod dicitur abracadabra saepius et subter repetes, sed detrahe summam et magis atque magis desint elementa figuris singula, quae semper rapies, et cetera figes, donec in angustum redigatur littera conum: his lino nexis collum redimire memento.8 Write that which is called abracadabra on a sheet many times. Repeat it underneath [the previous copy of the word], but remove the last letter, and each time you write it remove more and more letters, which you shall always snatch away one by one. Fix the rest in place until the letters form a narrow cone: remember to encircle the neck with these, tied by a linen thread. (fig. 2.1)

Although he recommends this amulet, he condemns the use of charms to cure quotidian fever, arguing that only “false superstition and anxious parents” could believe in their efficacy.9 Marcellus of Bordeaux, writing 5. Quintus Serenus Sammonicus, Liber medicinalis, ed. R. Pépin (Paris: Presses Universitaires de France, 1950), v– x. 6. “Mortiferum magis est quod Graecis hemitritaeos / uulgatur uerbis; hoc nostra dicere lingua / non potuere ulli, puto, nec uoluere parentes” (More deadly is the fever which is called “hemitritaeos” in Greek; there is no way to say this in our language, nor, I believe, do parents want one). Quintus Serenus Sammonicus, “Liber Medicinalis,” in La medicina in Roma antica: Il Liber medicinalis di Quinto Sereno Sammonico, ed. Cesare Ruffato (Turin: UTET, 1996), 108. 7. Georg Luck, Arcana Mundi: Magic and the Occult in the Greek and Roman Worlds: A Collection of Ancient Texts, 2nd ed. (Baltimore: Johns Hopkins University Press, 2006), 51. 8. Sammonicus, “Liber Medicinalis,” 108. 9. “Multaque praeterea verborum monstra silebo: / nam febrem vario depelli carmine posse / vana superstitio credit tremulaeque parentes” (And henceforth I will keep silent about many unnatural things involving words: for false superstition, and anxious mothers, believe that fever can be driven off with various charms). Sammonicus, “Liber Medicinalis,” 108.

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in the early fifth century, was more positive about the efficacy of text, recommending textual charms, including four for eye problems, three against bleeding, and remedies for disorders of the heart, liver, kidneys, and stomach.10 Other influential authors mentioned healing uses of text only to condemn them: for example, Pliny the Elder dismisses one text­ based remedy in his Natural History as false, accusing those who recorded it of having shown “a derisive contempt for mankind” by doing so.11 Despite these mixed attitudes toward the healing power of words, there is physical evidence for the use of medical amulets in Roman Britain. Lamellae are thin metal sheets with amuletic, and occasionally medical, inscriptions. Although they are rare, several examples from the first to the fourth centuries have been unearthed in England (fig. 2.2).12 As with Sammonicus’s Abracadabra charm, the patient would have rolled or folded the lamella into a case and worn it around their neck, presumably believing that it transmitted its power through proximity and physical contact.13 The examples given above demonstrate that amuletic texts were used 10. Summarized in Christopher A. Faraone, The Transformation of Greek Amulets in Roman Imperial Times (Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press, 2018), 276– 79. 11. “Magorum vanitas ebrietati eas resistere promittit et inde appellatas, praeterea, si lunae nomen ac solis inscribatur in iis atque ita suspendantur e collo cum pilis cynocephali et plumis hirundinis, resistere veneficiis. . . . nec non in smaragdis quoque similia promisere, si aquilae scalperentur aut scarabaei, quae quidem scripsisse eos non sine contemptu et inrisu generis humani arbitror” (The vanity of magicians promises that they [amethysts] prevent drunkenness, and for that reason they are so called. Furthermore, [they say that] if they are inscribed with the names of the sun and moon and are worn hanging from the neck along with baboons’ hairs and swallows’ feathers, they provide protection against spells. . . . Moreover, they have made similar claims about emeralds, provided that they are engraved with [the image of] an eagle or a scarab beetle. I can only suppose that in committing these statements to writing they express a derisive contempt for mankind). The claim that the name “amethyst” comes from its alleged ability to prevent drunkenness comes from ἀμέθυστος, meaning “not drunken.” Pliny the Elder, Natural History, vol. 10, Book 36– 37, trans. D. E. Eichholz, Loeb Classical Library (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 1962), 263 (etymology) and 264– 67 (edition and translation, on which mine is based). Gaillard-Seux, “Magical Formulas,” 204. 12. See, for example, R. S. O. Tomlin, “‘Drive Away the Cloud of Plague’: A Greek Amulet from Roman London,” in Life in the Limes: Studies of the People and Objects of the Roman Frontiers, ed. Rob Collins and Frances McIntosh (Oxford: Oxbow Books, 2014), 197– 205; “A Bilingual Roman Charm for Health and Victory,” Zeitschrift für Papyrologie und Epigraphik 149 (2004): 259– 66; and “Sede in Tuo Loco: A FourthCentury Uterine Phylactery in Latin from Roman Britain,” Zeitschrift für Papyrologie und Epigraphik 115 (1997): 291– 94. Examples of these objects can be seen on the website of the Portable Antiquities Scheme, https://www.finds.org.uk, with the ID numbers NMS-7BEED8, LON-3E7301, BERK-0B6771, and SWYOR-8F0C84. 13. Tomlin, “Bilingual Roman Charm,” 260.

Fig. 2.2 Portable Antiquities Scheme, BERK-0B6771, now held by the British Museum. Gold lamella discovered in South Oxfordshire (probably third to fourth century AD). Photograph: © Trustees of the British Museum.

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for medical purposes in Roman Britain. However, the primary use of effi­ cacious text in that period seems to have been not healing but punishment. Numerous tablets known as “curse tablets” or “judicial prayers” survive. Some are simply inscribed. In other examples, termed defixiones, written texts were repeatedly and violently punctured with nails in order to curse an enemy. At Bath alone, archaeologists have excavated some 130 judicial prayers, dating roughly from the late second century to the end of the fourth century.14 While most carry texts in Latin, there are also rare ex­ amples with inscriptions in Old Brittonic, the Celtic language spoken by the native British.15 Unlike the tablets found in other parts of the Greco­ Roman world, which have goals ranging from success in love and business to the destruction of enemies, the hundreds of judicial prayers found in Britain almost invariably punish theft.16 The texts found at Bath dedicate stolen objects to the goddess Sulis, so that the writer’s losses become her gains (and the retribution, her personal interest).17 By inscribing and de­ positing the tablets, petitioners hoped to communicate with the goddess and incite her to avenge the crime. These prayers, like the lamellae with medical inscriptions described above, provide strong evidence of belief in the power of certain written words before the arrival of English­speaking people— a shorthand term I use to refer to the Angles, Saxons, Jutes, and other West Germanic peoples who came to Britain and whose dialects coalesced into English as we know it today.18 But if efficacious text was used in Roman Britain, for the English­ speaking tribes that succeeded the Romans it had different functions and was applied in different ways. After the end of Roman rule, the practice of writing judicial prayers gradually disappeared. It became less common from the beginning of the fifth century onward, although production may have continued until the sixth.19 In the early medieval period, text was not 14. R. S. O. Tomlin, “The Curse Tablets,” in The Temple of Sulis Minerva at Bath, vol. 2, The Finds from the Sacred Spring, ed. Barry Cunliffe (Oxford: Oxford University Committee for Archaeology, 1988), 73. 15. Bernard Mees, Celtic Curses (Woodbridge, UK: Boydell Press, 2009), 34– 38. 16. Tomlin, “Curse Tablets,” 60. 17. Eleri H. Cousins, “Votive Objects and Ritual Practice at the King’s Spring at Bath,” in TRAC 2013: Proceedings of the Twenty-Third Theoretical Roman Archaeology Conference, King’s College, London 2013, ed. Hannah Platts et al. (Oxford: Oxbow Books, 2014), 57– 58. 18. Martin Henig, Religion in Roman Britain (London: B. T. Batsford Ltd, 1984), 166. More information about curse tablets may be found online at Curse Tablets of Roman Britain, http://curses.csad.ox .ac.uk/index .shtml. 19. Henig, Religion, 166. R. S. O. Tomlin, “Voices from the Sacred Spring,” in Bath History, ed. Trevor Fawcett (Bath: Millstream Books, 1992), 4:18.

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used— as the judicial prayers were— to seek divine justice for items already stolen. Instead, it was used to protect items that might catch a thief’s covet­ ous eye, as protective inscriptions on individual items were thought to curse anyone who might try to steal them. The text engraved on the late tenth­ or eleventh­century Sutton Brooch, for example, reads: “+ ÆDVǷEN ME AG AGE HYO DRIHTEN / DRIHTEN HINE AǷERIE ÐE ME HIRE ÆT­ FERIE / BVTON HYO ME SELLE HIRE AGENES ǷILLES” (Ædwen owns me; may the Lord own her. May the Lord curse him who takes me from her, unless she gives me of her own free will).20 The text is on the back of the brooch, meaning that it would not have been visible when the brooch was worn, but it might have been visible to a thief who found it unattended— even if the thief might not have been able to read what it said. The vast majority of pre­Conquest inscriptions against theft relate to the written word. A series of “book curses” condemning thieves to eternal damnation among the devils appears on books donated by Bishop Leofric of Exeter to St. Peter’s Minster on his death in 1072, while legal documents might include curses threatening anyone who altered their text.21 How­ ever, when manuscripts copied during this period contain charms for deal­ ing with theft, they are always to be spoken, never written.22 By contrast, if Romans in Britain used spoken charms to recover stolen property, no evidence for the practice survives. Even by looking just at responses to theft, we can see that the uses of charms changed over time. People still wished to protect their belongings, and they still used words to do that. Like the Roman tablets dedicating 20. British Museum, 1951,1011.1. See Janet Backhouse, D. H. Turner, Leslie Webster, et al., The Golden Age of Anglo-Saxon Art: 966– 1066 (London: British Museum Publications, 1984), no. 105. For a further discussion of this inscription, see Peter Ramey, “Writing Speaks: Oral Poetics and Writing Technology in the Exeter Book Riddles,” Philological Quarterly 92, no. 3 (Summer 2013): 341– 42. 21. Cambridge, Trinity College, MS B.11.1 states that “gif hie hwa utætbrede, hæbbe he ece geniðerunge mid eallum deoflum” (if anyone carry it [i.e., the book] off, may he have eternal condemnation among all the devils). R. D. Fulk and Christopher M. Cain, A History of Old English Literature, 2nd ed. (Chichester: Wiley-Blackwell, 2013), 337. Fulk and Cain also list a number of other manuscripts containing similar curses. Brenda Danet and Bryna Bogoch, “‘Whoever Alters This, May God Turn His Face from Him on the Day of Judgment’: Curses in Anglo-Saxon Legal Documents,” Journal of American Folklore 105, no. 416 (Spring 1992): 132– 65. 22. British Library, Harley MS 585, fol. 178r– v and Cotton MS Tiberius A iii, fol. 106r, and Cambridge, Corpus Christi College, MSS 41, p. 206 (three examples), 190, p. 130, and 383, fol. 59r. Written charms against theft reappear after the Norman Conquest, perhaps by Continental influence. Twelfth-century examples appear, for instance, in British Library, Sloane MS 475, fol. 110v, and added to a flyleaf in British Library, Cotton MS Titus D xxvi, fol. 79v.

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stolen property to Sulis, some later curses linked to specific items suggest that they belong to God. Ædwen is owned by God, implying that her property is also his. Leofric’s book curses record the donation of the books to a religious institution, perhaps suggesting God’s personal interest in them. In certain ways, then, the idea behind the curses was similar. How­ ever, the specific moment at which the curse was applied, the narrowing of its use primarily to books and documents, and the new evidence for spoken charms all demonstrate changes in the way such powerful words were wielded. The changes in charm use, or at least the changes in the surviving ev­ idence, go beyond the use of words to protect against theft. As the in­ fluence of the Romans gradually gave way to the influence of the new English­speaking arrivals, users of efficacious text seem to have changed either their conception of the power of written words or their desire or ability to use efficacious words in particular contexts and situations. As noted above, the evidence from Roman Britain mostly consists of texts to induce punishment, a usage that declined in the post­Roman period. Instead, people in early medieval England tended to use written charms for medical and protective purposes. The written word, in various forms, became a common “ingredient” in remedies promising a rapid solution to physical problems such as illness, injury, or environmental dangers. As instructions for performing spoken charms also start to survive in greater numbers in the early medieval period, it becomes possible to compare the circumstances in which written or spoken words were thought to have power.

Charms and the Social Role of Text in Pre-Conquest England The surviving manuscripts owned in England before 1100 record 192 verbal rituals used for protection or for treating a wide range of medical condi­ tions.23 Some of these transmit their power through spoken words and 23. Most of these, unsurprisingly, come from the Old English medical compilations found in British Library, Harley MS 585 and Royal MS 12 D xvii, and from the medical miscellany British Library, Sloane MS 475. Many more appear in copies of the Herbarium and Medicina de quadrupedibus, found in British Library, Cotton MS Vitellius C iii and Harley MS 585; Bodleian Library, MS Ashmole 1431, MS Bodley 130, and MS Hatton 76; and in the now-destroyed Herrnstein near Siegburg, Bibliothek der Grafen Nesselrode, MS 192. A description of this last manuscript can be found in Karl Sudhoff, “Codex medicus Hertensis (Nr. 192),” Archiv für Geschichte der Medizin 10, no. 6 ( July 1917): 265– 313. Smaller collections or pairs of charms can be found in Cambridge, Corpus Christi College, MS 41; British Library, Cotton MSS Caligula A

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phrases. In others, the powerful words took effect when the practitioner wrote them down. Still others use the full performance of the Christian Mass to enhance the efficacy of their ingredients, vividly demonstrating that some verbal remedies aligned with Christian belief and liturgical practice.24 Although I refer to all verbal remedies as charms, it should be clear that the term’s modern connotations of magic and superstition did not always apply. In order to understand the relationship between spoken (including liturgical) charms and written charms in pre­Conquest England, we must first understand the role of text in the social and religious culture of the time. This is of course a hugely complex question, and the overview I offer here is necessarily brief. Late antique and medieval literacy levels are no­ toriously difficult to determine, especially as they are likely to have varied widely between different regions and kingdoms. Furthermore, the skills of reading and writing did not necessarily go hand in hand. More people could read than could write, meaning that more people would be able to read a spoken charm aloud than compose or copy a written charm.25 Charms could also circulate orally, a system of transmission that leaves no evidence today. In Roman Britain, before the arrival of English­speaking peoples en masse, basic literacy in Latin may have been fairly widespread. The writing tablets excavated at the fort of Vindolanda, just south of Hadrian’s Wall, show that written documents were extensively used within the Roman army in the late first and early second centuries for purposes such as mil­ itary reports and requests for leave.26 The tablets also include personal documents and letters written by and for women and slaves: Claudia Se­ vera invited one prefect’s wife, Sulpicia Lepidina, to her birthday party, while the slave Severus wrote to another prefect’s slave about preparations xv, Faustina A x, Galba A xiv, and Vitellius E xviii, Harley MS 2965, and Royal MS 2 A xx; Bodleian Library, MS Auct. F.3.6 and MS Junius 85; and Vatican, Biblioteca Apostolica, Reg. Lat. 338. Single charm-copies appear in Cambridge University Library, MS Ll.1.10; Cambridge, Corpus Christi College, MSS 190 and 383; British Library, Cotton MSS Caligula A vii, Tiberius A iii, and Vespasian D xx; Bodleian Library, MS Barlow 35 and MS Bodley 163; and Worcester Cathedral Library, MS Q.5. 24. Ciaran Arthur, “Charms,” Liturgies, and Secret Rites in Early Medieval England (Woodbridge, UK: Boydell Press, 2018), addresses the connections between charmtexts and liturgical rituals in pre-Conquest England. I discuss his arguments in more detail below. 25. Franz H. Bäuml, “Varieties and Consequences of Medieval Literacy and Illiteracy,” Speculum 55, no. 2 (April 1980): 237– 65. 26. Many of the tablets have been edited and translated at Vindolanda Tablets Online, http://vindolanda.csad.ox .ac.uk/. Military documents appear at tablets 127– 77.

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for celebrating Saturnalia.27 Clearly, reading and writing were used be­ yond the military bureaucracy.28 Further evidence for literacy in Roman Britain comes from the previously mentioned judicial prayers, which apparently were written by civilians in their own hand. Some of these prayers are notably complex, using elevated language, ciphers, and the Greek alphabet.29 Archaeological discoveries of writing equipment at rural settlements also suggest that reading and writing existed beyond urban and military contexts.30 With the departure of the Romans and the major influx of Germanic peoples, Latin literacy appears to have declined or disappeared in most, if not all, areas of Britain.31 Latin, along with the Roman alphabet, was reintroduced from the late sixth century onward by foreign missionaries bringing Christianity to Britain.32 However, some objects inscribed with runes survive from before the arrival of Christianity and may represent a sophisticated, if highly restricted, role for literacy from the earliest period of post­Roman settlement in Britain.33 The use of runic writing continued long after Christianization, even in some Christian contexts. Scribes in early medieval England could make use of several scripts and languages, sometimes in unexpected combinations.34 St. Cuthbert’s coffin, dating 27. Vindolanda Tablets Online, tablets 291, 292, and 301, http://vindolanda.csad .ox .ac.uk/. 28. Alan K. Bowman, “The Roman Imperial Army: Letters and Literacy on the Northern Frontier,” in Literacy and Power in the Ancient World, ed. Alan K. Bowman and Greg Woolf (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1994), 116. 29. R. S. O. Tomlin, “The Book in Roman Britain,” in The Book in Britain, ed. Richard Gameson (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2011), 381. 30. John Pearce, “Archaeology, Writing Tablets and Literacy in Roman Britain,” Gallia 61, no. 1 (2004): 51. 31. Bryan Ward-Perkins, The Fall of Rome and the End of Civilization (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2005), 164. 32. Susan Kelly, “Anglo- Saxon Lay Society and the Written Word,” in The Uses of Literacy in Early Mediaeval Europe, ed. Rosamond McKitterick (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1990), 38. 33. John Hines, “Some Observations on the Runic Inscriptions of Early AngloSaxon England,” in Old English Runes and Their Continental Background, ed. Alfred Bammesberger (Heidelberg: Carl Winter Universitätsverlag, 1991), 77; and R. I. Page, An Introduction to English Runes (Woodbridge, UK: Boydell Press, 1999), 21. 34. Elisabeth Okasha, “Literacy in Anglo- Saxon England: The Evidence from Inscriptions,” Anglo-Saxon Studies in Archaeology and History 8 (1995): 72– 73, discusses the implications of this fact with reference to the Ruthwell Cross. For a broader examination of the interactions between languages in this period, see Elizabeth M. Tyler, ed., Conceptualizing Multilingualism in England, c.800– c.1250, Studies in the Early Middle Ages 27 (Turnhout: Brepols, 2011).

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Fig. 2.3 British Museum, 1867.0120.1. The Franks Casket, back panel (early eighth century). Photograph: © Trustees of the British Museum.

from the seventh century, carries a Latin inscription written in a mixture of runic and Roman script.35 The eighth­century Franks Casket, meanwhile, is inscribed in Old English written in runes and in Latin written using a mixture of runic and Roman script (fig. 2.3).36 From the very end of the period, the beautiful Bridekirk font carries an Old English or early Middle English inscription written in Scandinavian runes.37 The presence of multiple languages and writing systems in pre­ Conquest England is reflected in the texts of the charms themselves. Charms recorded before 1100 use a range of languages: predominantly English and Latin but also occasionally Greek, Irish, unknown words and 35. R. I. Page, “Roman and Runic on St. Cuthbert’s Coffin,” in St. Cuthbert, His Cult and His Community to A.D. 1200, ed. Gerald Bonner, David W. Rollason, and Clare Stancliffe (Woodbridge, UK: Boydell Press, 1989), 261– 62. 36. Thomas Klein, “Anglo-Saxon Literacy and the Roman Letters on the Franks Casket,” Studia Neophilologica 81, no. 1 (2009): 17– 23. 37. R. I. Page, “How Long Did the Scandinavian Language Survive in England? The Epigraphical Evidence,” in England before the Conquest: Studies in Primary Sources Presented to Dorothy Whitelock, ed. Peter Clemoes and Kathleen Hughes (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1971), 170. The font itself is in St. Bridget’s Church in Bridekirk, Cumbria. For more on contact between speakers of Old English and Old Norse, see Matthew Townend, Language and History in Viking Age England: Linguistic Relations between Speakers of Old Norse and Old English, Studies in the Early Middle Ages 6 (Turnhout: Brepols, 2002).

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letter strings, and, in a single example, Old Norse. Several charms use Latin in combination with one or more of these other languages. It is clear that the roles of the languages differ. For example, efficacious text is never in English, although English can transmit power when it is spoken aloud. As we shall see in subsequent chapters, this trend continued throughout the medieval period. People might speak a charm in a vernacular language, but the textual components of a written charm would not use the vernacular. Given the general preference for the use of Latin in written charms, it will be no surprise that the standard writing system for efficacious text was the Roman alphabet. Of the forty­three examples of written charms in manuscripts copied or owned in England before 1100, only three make use of Greek letters and four of runic characters (box 2.1).38 The use of Greek may be explained by its status as a sacred and re­ spected language, being one of the three languages used to write the titulus under which Christ was crucified and having contributed terms to the Latin liturgy.39 Runes require a little more consideration. Some scholars have asserted that runes had a particular magical status in pre­Conquest England, while others have argued vehemently that they had nothing of the kind.40 At first glance, the presence of just four charms incorporating runes, three of which use only a single ᛞ rune, suggests that runes played a very minimal role in pre­Conquest charm practices.41 The archaeolog­ 38. The Greek letters are found in a charm against elvish magic in British Library, Royal MSS 2 A xx, fol. 49v, and 12 D xvii (Bald’s Leechbook I), fol. 52v; and Vatican, Biblioteca Apostolica, Reg. Lat. 338, fol. 111v. 39. John 19:19– 20: “Scripsit autem et titulum Pilatus, et posuit super crucem. Erat autem scriptum: Jesus Nazarenus, Rex Judæorum. Hunc ergo titulum multi Judæorum legerunt: quia prope civitatem erat locus, ubi crucifixus est Jesus, et erat scriptum hebraice, græce, et latine” (And Pilate wrote a title also, and he put it upon the cross. And the writing was: jesus of nazareth, the king of the jews. This title therefore many of the Jews did read: because the place where Jesus was crucified was nigh to the city: and it was written in Hebrew, in Greek, and in Latin). For a discussion of Latin, Greek, and Hebrew as sacred languages see Michael Richter, “Concept and Evolution of the tres linguae sacrae,” in Language of Religion—Language of the People: Medieval Judaism, Christianity and Islam, ed. Ernst Bremer et al. (Munich: Wilhelm Fink Verlag, 2006), 15– 23. 40. See, for example, Ralph W. V. Elliott, “Runes, Yews, and Magic,” Speculum 32, no. 2 (April 1957): 250– 61; Stephen E. Flowers, Runes and Magic: Magical Formulaic Elements in the Older Runic Tradition (New York: Peter Lang, 1986). For the argument that runes had no magical connotations, see R. I. Page, “Anglo- Saxon Runes and Magic,” Journal of the British Archaeological Association 27, no. 1 (1964): 14– 31. 41. British Library, Royal MS 12 D xvii, fols. 20r– v and 53r (Bald’s Leechbook I); Bodleian Library, MS Auct. F.3.6 fol. iii v; and Vatican, Biblioteca Apostolica Reg. Lat. 338, fol. 111v. A fifth charm, found in British Library, Cotton MS Caligula A xv, fols. 123v– 24r and dated to ca. 1073– 76, is in Old Norse and copied in Scandinavian runes.

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Box 2.1 Pre-Conquest Charms Including Runic Characters British LiBrary, royaL Ms 12 d Xvii (Leechbook I), foL. 20r– v (ca. 900– 980) Blod seten eft gehal beren ear bestinge on eare swa he nyte. // Sume þis writað + ægryn. thon. struth. fola argrenn. tart. struth. on. tria. enn. piath. hathu. morfana. on hæl + ara. carn. leou. groth. weorn. III. ffil. crondi. w. ᛞ. mro. Cron. ærcrio. ermio. aeR. leNo. ge horse ge men blodseten. Another to staunch blood: poke into the ear a whole ear of barley without his knowledge. Some write this: + ægryn. thon. struth. fola argrenn. tart. struth. on. tria. enn. piath. hathu. morfana. on hæl + ara. carn. leou. groth. weorn. III. ffil. crondi. w. ᛞ. mro. Cron. ærcrio. ermio. aeR. leNo. Either for horse or man, a blood-stauncher.

An eleventh century version of this charm appears in Bodleian Library, MS Auct. F.3.6, fol. iii v.

British LiBrary, royaL Ms 12 d Xvii (Leechbook I), foL. 53r (ca. 900– 980) Eft godcund gebed. In nomine dei summi sit benedictum. ᛞᛖᛖᚱᛖᚦ. Nᛋ. ǷTXᛞᛖᚱFǷNᛋ. ǷTX

Another divine prayer: “Be blessed in the name of God most high.” ᛞᛖᛖᚱᛖᚦ. Nᛋ. ǷTXᛞᛖᚱFǷNᛋ. ǷTX

(continued)

ical evidence, however, suggests a use of runes quite different from that presented by the manuscript evidence. I exclude it from consideration here because it makes no reference to writing and was probably intended to be spoken. Transliterated from its runic characters, it reads “kuril sarþuara far þu nu funtin istu þur uigi þik þorsa trutin [k]uril sarþuara uiþr aþrauari” (Kyril of the wound-spear, go now, you are found. Thor hallow [destroy?] you, [you] lord of giants, Kyril of the wound-spear. Against blood-poison). Both transcription and translation come from John Frankis, “Sidelights on Post-Conquest Canterbury: Towards a Context for an Old Norse Runic Charm (DR 419),” Nottingham Medieval Studies 44 (2000): 2, 4.

Box 2.1 (continued ) The runic symbols in the manuscript are problematic. Cockayne, Leechdoms, reading T as I, ᛋ as the Tironian note, and interpreting wynn as thorn, translates the phrase as “thine hand vexeth, thine hand vexeth” (2:141). Godfrid Storms, Anglo-Saxon Magic (Dordrecht: Springer Science+Business Media, 1948) points out that the letter resembling a Roman capital F “cannot stand for E, which is represented in the text by ᛖ” (p. 271). This charm is part of a list of remedies “wið lenctenadle,” literally meaning “against spring disease” and possibly referring to typhus fever or a form of tertian malaria (M. L. Cameron, AngloSaxon Medicine, Cambridge Studies in Anglo-Saxon England 7 [Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1993], 10). I have interpreted the manuscript’s “eft” as indicating a separate remedy for the same condition, although some other editors have treated the remedies together.

vatican, BiBLioteca aPostoLica reg. Lat. 338, foL. 111v (ca. 1000– 1050) + wið blod ryne ) p. ᛞ. C. p. o. A. o. x. A. φ. Y. z. B. + against blood running: p. ᛞ. C. p. o. A. o. x. A. φ. Y. z. B.

Alternatively, the scribe’s letterforms are such that all of the letters except the rune could be read as Greek letters rather than letters of the Roman alphabet: + against blood running: ρ. ᛞ. Σ. Ρ. Ο. Λ. Ο. Χ. Λ. Φ. Υ. Ζ. Β.

There is some resemblance between the Roman alphabet interpretation of this charm and later bleeding charms. Several examples begin with “p” and end with “B,” while others include the letter string “c. p. o.,” and many share the string “o. x. a.” None of the later versions of the charm include the runic character. Examples of related charms from the thirteenth to fifteenth centuries can be found in Cambridge, Corpus Christi College, MS 388, fol. 19r; British Library, Cotton MS Julius D viii, fol. 79r, Harley MS 273, fol. 215r, Sloane MS 431, fols. 13r (two examples) and 44r– v; Bodleian Library, MS Ashmole 1447, part 1, p. 1 (two examples), and MS Digby 86, fol. 15r.

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The clearest archaeological evidence for the use of runes in charms is that of three ninth­ or tenth­century rings that carry runic inscriptions.42 These inscriptions are related to the powerful text of a charm to staunch bleeding found in two copies: one in the British Library’s Royal MS 12 D xvii, dating to the tenth century, and one added in the eleventh century to a flyleaf of the Bodleian’s MS Auct F.3.6. (box 2.1, above).43 The man­ uscripts, which do not specify the material the efficacious text should be written on, both give the charm’s powerful words in Roman letters, with a single runic character in each. On the rings, the text is in runes entirely. This raises several questions about the role of script in written charms: Were runic and Roman copies of the charm circulating separately? Would someone reading the manuscript instructions have transliterated the text when producing the amuletic object? If so, would that have been because runes were perceived as more effective or simply because it was easier to inscribe runes on metal? A full examination of the question is beyond the scope of this study, and in any case no clear answer is likely to be forth­ coming, but the difference between the archaeological and manuscript evidence alone serves as a valuable reminder that we cannot know the extent to which actual practice might have diverged from the manuscript instructions. Other archaeological evidence demonstrates that runic writing was used in charm contexts that have no clear parallels in the manuscript evi­ dence. John Hines’s recent survey of pre­Conquest runic inscriptions on lead plates reveals several other examples of inscriptions that serve charm­ like purposes.44 One is an Old English inscription that, when transliter­ ated, reads “dead is dwerg” ([the] dwarf is dead), presumably referring to the disease known in Old English medical texts as dweorg rather than to some unfortunate person of short stature. Although the manuscript evidence records four verbal charms against dweorg, all of which require writing, none uses runes, nor does any include the phrase “the dwarf is 42. The identification between the rings and the charm in Bald’s Leechbook I was first made in Bruce Dickins, “Runic Rings and Old English Charms,” Archiv für das Studium der Neueren Sprachen 167 (1935): 252. The rings are the Bramham Moor ring, now in the National Museum of Denmark (ID number 8545), the Kingmoor ring (British Museum, ID number OA.10262), and a ring that may have been found at Linstock Castle (British Museum, ID number 1873,0210.3). 43. British Library, Royal MS 12 D xvii, fol. 20r–v (Bald’s Leechbook I), and Bodleian Library, MS Auct. F.3.6 fol. iii v. 44. John Hines, “Practical Runic Literacy in the Late Anglo-Saxon Period: Inscriptions on Lead Sheet,” in Anglo-Saxon Micro-Texts, ed. Ursula Lenker and Lucia Kornexl (Berlin and Boston: De Gruyter, 2019), 29– 59.

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dead.”45 Other examples of surviving runic inscriptions include one giving the names of the evangelists with the request “libera me a malo” (deliver me from evil) and a gibberish inscription of a kind that has been inter­ preted as amuletic or apotropaic, intended to ward off evil spirits.46 An­ other possible example of a runic amulet is a fragmentary strip with seven pseudorunic characters found on the back of the Sutton Brooch, briefly mentioned above because of its inscription against theft.47 Although the Roman alphabet dominates in the manuscript contexts from which the bulk of my evidence is drawn, runic literacy may nevertheless have played a larger role in protection and healing than the manuscripts suggest. In addition to considering which writing systems were used in effica­ cious texts, it is worth examining why. What connotations did the written word have, and how many people were able to read it? While a sizable num­ ber would likely have encountered the written word primarily in religious contexts, charters surviving from the 670s demonstrate that the written word and the Roman alphabet were quickly adopted for certain secular purposes.48 The documentary forms and wide distribution of these char­ ters across the south of England further suggest that written documents had already been in use for some time before the first extant examples were copied.49 However, it appears that— as with some charms— the presence of the text could sometimes be more important than its content. Susan Kelly argues that while the church might have recognized written charters as records of land transfer, the laity’s faith in charters was more symbolic. It stemmed from the use of documents in ritual contexts. The land being transferred was represented by the charter or a sod of earth from the rele­ vant estate, or both, which would be placed on an altar or gospel book. For the laity, therefore, the charter functioned as a physical sign rather than as an item that conveyed information in words. Kelly also notes that charters were rarely edited to record changes of ownership, limiting their use as a textual, rather than a material, record of land possession. As the text rarely registered the land’s new owner, it seems that ownership was determined more through physical possession of the document than through its writ­ 45. British Library, Harley MS 585, fols. 165r (two examples) and 167r–v; Bodleian Library, MS Auct F.3.6, fol. ii r. 46. Hines, “Practical Runic Literacy,” 36– 37, 40– 41, 50– 51. The latter two are the March plaque, which is not securely dated but may be from the late Old English period, and the St. Benet’s plaque, which may date to the second quarter of the eleventh century or later. 47. British Museum, 1951,1011.1. 48. Kelly, “Lay Society,” 40. 49. Kelly, “Lay Society,” 26.

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ten content. Only in the ninth century, when charters began to record the boundaries of the lands they described in English rather than Latin, did they start to function as “true written records” whose contents were more important than their symbolic meaning.50 The ninth century is also the century from which charm instructions first survive from Britain, for both spoken and written charms.51 However, the levels of literacy needed to perform a written charm would likely still have been uncommon, even among churchmen and at the highest levels of secular society. Asser’s Life of King Alfred— the only text to discuss the education of a layman of this period in detail— records that Alfred (ca. 848– 899) learned to read English only in his twelfth year, a fact that Asser attributes to the negligence of his parents and teachers.52 Despite Asser’s horror, it seems that literacy, whether in English or in Latin, was not a priority in the education of a member of the royal family. Alfred only learned to read Latin at the age of around thirty­eight because of his desire to understand the scriptures.53 Of Alfred’s children, just one— his younger son Æthelweard— seems to have been taught to write or to read Latin beyond the Psalms.54 50. Kelly, “Lay Society,” 44– 46. 51. British Library, Royal MS 2 A xx (ca. 750– 825) contains eight charm recipes on fols. 12r– 13v, 16v (two examples), 45v (two examples), 49r–v, and 49v (two examples). Three of these (on fols. 12r– 13v, 45v, and 49v) require the use of writing. Other charms have been added to the manuscript in later hands. 52. Kelly, “Lay Society,” 59; Simon Keynes and Michael Lapidge, Alfred the Great: Asser’s Life of King Alfred and Other Contemporary Sources (Harmondsworth: Penguin Books Ltd, 1983), 75 and 91; Asser, “Life of King Alfred,” in Asser’s Life of King Alfred: Together with the Annals of Saint Neots Erroneously Ascribed to Asser, ed. William Henry Stevenson (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1904), 20– 21, 59. 53. Keynes and Lapidge, Alfred the Great, 99; Asser, “Life,” 73. 54. Asser describes the education of three of Alfred’s five children. Æthelweard “ludis literariae disciplinae, . . . cum omnibus pene totius regionis nobilibus infantibus et etiam multis ignobilibus, sub diligenti magistrorum cura traditus est. In qua schola utriusque linguae libri, Latinae scilicet et Saxonicae, assidue legebantur, scriptioni quoque vacabant” (was handed over to training in reading and writing under the attentive care of teachers, in company with all the nobly born children of virtually the entire area, and a good many of lesser birth as well. In this school books in both languages— that is to say, in Latin and English— were carefully read; they also devoted themselves to writing). Asser, “Life,” 58. Keynes and Lapidge, Alfred the Great, 90. Asser wrote that Alfred’s elder son Edward and younger daughter Ælfthryth “et psalmos et Saxonicos libros et maxime Saxonica carmina studiose didicere, et frequentissime libris utuntur” (have attentively learned the Psalms, and books in English, and especially English poems, and they very frequently make use of books). Asser, “Life,” 59. Keynes and Lapidge, Alfred the Great, 91.

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The preface to the Old English translation of Pope Gregory’s Pastoral Care, allegedly written by Alfred himself, gives a sense of the level of ed­ ucation in England more broadly.55 Although it may exaggerate the sorry state of learning, the preface claims: Swa clæne hio wæs oðfeallenu on Angelkynne ðætte swiðe feawe wæron behionan Humbre þe hiora ðenunga cuðen understandan on Englisc, oððe furðum an ærendgewrit of Lædene on Englisc areccan; & ic wene ðætte nauht monige begeondan Humbre næren.56 Learning had declined so thoroughly in England that there were very few men on this side of the Humber who could understand their divine services in English, or even translate a single letter from Latin into English: and I suppose that there were not many beyond the Humber either.57

To remedy this lack of learning, Alfred proposed that any of the freeborn youth of England who were able should be taught to read in English, un­ less they would be more useful elsewhere. Only later were some of them to be taught Latin and advance to holy orders.58 If this description of ed­ ucation is accurate, then few people would have been literate at the time from which the earliest English charm­recipes survive. Some would have been able to read the instructions for performing charms. Many fewer would have been able to read and understand the efficacious words of pre­ Conquest written charms, none of which is in English and many of which are quite complex.59 The capacity to write down the charms in order to produce the more complex efficacious texts would also have been limited, even among the more educated members of society. However, it may not have been restricted to the elite alone. Although the archaeological evidence for literacy at the time of the 55. The question of whether or not Alfred is responsible for the Old English translations that have been given his name, and indeed the question of whether or not the translations were all undertaken by the same person, is open. See, for example, Malcolm Godden, “Did King Alfred Write Anything?,” Medium Ævum 76, no. 1 (2007): 1– 23, and Janet Bately, “Did King Alfred Actually Translate Anything? The Integrity of the Alfredian Canon Revisited,” Medium Ævum 78, no. 2 (2009): 189– 215. For the sake of clarity and convenience, I shall refer to the translator as Alfred. 56. Henry Sweet, ed., King Alfred’s West Saxon Version of Gregory’s Pastoral Care, EETS OS 45 (London: N. Trübner, 1871), 2– 3. 57. Keynes and Lapidge, Alfred the Great, 125. 58. Sweet, Gregory’s Pastoral Care, 6– 7. 59. Based on the forty-two written charms I am aware of from England before ca. 1100.

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earliest surviving charms is mixed, it seems that some people of a lower social status would also have been able to perform written charms. Nick Holder’s survey of inscriptions from pre­Conquest London notes two runic examples on “humble” objects from the eighth or ninth century: a possible knife handle with an inscription that is difficult to interpret and a single sheep vertebra inscribed with two personal names.60 Holder argues that these are neither professional inscriptions nor trial pieces and that they may therefore demonstrate some level of written literacy among non­ elite laypeople.61 Similarly, Thomas Bredehoft’s examination of “speaking object” inscriptions such as the Alfred Jewel’s “AELFRED MEC HEHT GEWYRCAN” (Alfred ordered me to be made), in which the inscribed first­person pronoun refers to the object on which it is written, leads him to conclude that “literacy was not unheard of within the artisan’s commu­ nity in Anglo­Saxon England.”62 The ability to write a name would have been enough to enable someone to perform a small number of the written charms surviving from before 1100 (box 2.2). While relatively few people would have been capable of writing or read­ ing a charm inscription, particularly one of some length and complexity, those who hoped to benefit from the charm did not need to be literate. Once an efficacious text had been written down, no reading was required to activate it: the act of writing or the presence of text seems to have been powerful or prestigious in its own right. This is true not only of the pow­ erful words of written charms but also of writing of other kinds. In her study of pre­Conquest inscriptions, for example, Elisabeth Okasha draws attention to two high­status artifacts decorated with problematic texts. The first of these is the eighth­century Coppergate Helmet, which carries a well­written Latin inscription that has been fastened to it facedown so that its text appears in mirror writing, demonstrating that the craftsman who attached it was not literate and that his mistake was not corrected by others.63 The second is a ninth­century gold and niello finger ring 60. Nick Holder, “Inscriptions, Writing and Literacy in Saxon London,” Transactions of the London and Middlesex Archaeological Society 49 (1998): 85. Holder also describes three Roman letters inscribed on a fossilized sea urchin, but it has since been suggested that the “inscription” could be a natural feature. See David Notton, “An Anglo-Saxon Inscribed Fossil Echinoid from Exeter Street, London? An Alternative Interpretation,” Medieval Archaeology 46 (2002): 107– 10. 61. Holder, “Inscriptions,” 86. 62. Thomas A. Bredehoft, “First-Person Inscriptions and Literacy in Anglo- Saxon England,” Anglo-Saxon Studies in Archaeology and History 9 (1996): 108. The Alfred Jewel is held at the Ashmolean Museum, Oxford, accession number: AN1836p.135.371. 63. Okasha, “Literacy,” 73. Yorkshire Museum, York, object number: YORCM:CA665.

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Box 2.2 Pre-Conquest Charms Using Names as Efficacious Texts British LiBrary, royaL Ms 12 d Xvii (Leechbook I), foL. 39v (ca. 900– 980) Eft wiþ onfealle genim æt fruman hæslenne sticcan oþþe ellenne writ þinne naman on asleah þry scearpan on gefylle mid þy blode þone naman weorp ofer eaxle oþþe betweoh þeoh on yrnende wæter ⁊ stand ofer þone man þa scearpan aslea ⁊ þæt eall swigende gedo. Another against a felon: take, to begin, a hazel or elder stick and write your name on it. Cut three scores on [the place], fill the name with your blood, and throw it over your shoulder or between your thighs into running water, and stand over the man [i.e., the patient]. Strike the scores and do all that silently.

Other examples include British Library, Harley MS 585, fols. 146v– 50r, in which the procedure for making a holy salve involves writing the names of the four evangelists. The rest of the ritual is spoken. In British Library, Cotton MS Caligula A xv, fol. 129r, there is a charm for pox in which the only written element is the name of St. Nichasius (textbox 1.8). Various other charms require only simple pieces of writing.

discovered in Bodsham, Kent, that reads “+ [G]ARMVND MEC AH,” meaning “Garmund owns me,” followed by the apparently meaningless letters “IM.”64 The presence of such features may indicate that their owners were illiterate but nevertheless appreciated written text, prizing it for its inherent prestige rather than its literal meaning. Okasha further points out that even when inscriptions appear to be addressed to a literate audience, they may have been directed not only to those viewing the inscription but also to supernatural readers such as God or the angels. Surviving inscriptions that direct their pleas to God, such as the seventh­century cross base that reads “Lucem tuam Ovino da. Deus et 64. Okasha, “Literacy,” 69. British Museum, London, registration number: 1969,0606.1. The name in the inscription, “Garmund,” could also be read as “Sarmund.”

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requiem Amen” (O Lord, give thy light and peace to Ovin. Amen), sup­ port this interpretation.65 Again, this suggests that the presence of writing was at times more important than the message contained in the writing: that “writing [could] itself confer prestige on an object,” or “be a symbol of power and authority.”66 As Holder observes, “the evidence of illegible or pseudo­inscriptions on coin­brooches would suggest that there may more often have been an aspiration to literacy rather than an actual ability to read and write on the part of the owner.”67 Text could, then, be seen as a vehicle for power. If writing was felt to confer authority or prestige on an object and address powerful beings such as angels, then the pres­ ence of text could surely call supernatural beings into action on behalf of the text’s owner. The common presence of Latin in spoken charms may also imply communication with supernatural beings, since most people would have encountered Latin primarily, if not exclusively, through church services. Just as the users of charms did not need to be able to read efficacious texts in order to benefit from them, they did not need to understand Latin to benefit from charms in that language. People who did not speak Latin would still have been able to use many of the written and spoken charms, though they did not comprehend them. This possibility is vividly demonstrated by two later Welsh manuscripts, one from the fifteenth and one from the sixteenth century, that use Welsh orthography to represent the sound of Latin in a fever charm incantation and in two copies of the opening of the Gospel of John.68 The familiar “In principio erat Verbum et Verbum erat apud Deum et Deus erat Verbum” (In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God) is rendered in one example as “Yn prynsipiw irath verbwm ieth verbwm irath apwth diwm ieth diws irath verbwm.”69 Welsh speakers with no knowledge of 65. Okasha, “Literacy,” 70– 71; Susan Oosthuizen, The Anglo-Saxon Fenland (Oxford: Windgather Press, 2017), 34. 66. Okasha, “Literacy,” 73. 67. Holder, “Inscriptions,” 92. 68. National Library of Wales, Peniarth MS 205, pp. 10– 11, 40– 41, and Sotheby MS C.2, pp. 116– 17; Katherine Leach, “Healing Charms and Ritual Protection in Premodern Wales” (PhD diss., Harvard University, 2020), 72– 76. Leach provides editions of all three texts. The fever charm refers to “Arsitriclenus,” a version of architriclinus, a term for a steward or master of a feast. There is an English version of the charm in Cambridge, Magdalene College, Pepys MS 1661, p. 15, and a French version in British Library, Egerton MS 833, fol. 12v. Other examples are discussed in Lea T. Olsan, “Writing on the Hand in Ink: A Late Medieval Innovation in Fever Charms in England,” Incantatio 7 (2018): 16– 17. 69. National Library of Wales, Peniarth MS 205, p. 40; Leach, “Healing Charms,” 73.

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Latin would be able to pronounce the passage based on this phonetic rendering. In both manuscripts, when a Latin passage was intended to be written down rather than spoken aloud, the scribe used the typical Latin spelling.70 This can be seen in the charm against fevers in Peniarth MS 205: Rac y krydr + pater est alpha et oo + filius est veritas + spiritus sanctus est [reme]dium + ac ysgrivuenu hynny ar dair arlladeu neu dair tauell o abal y rran gyntaf y bore kynta yr ucha a ffvm pader a ffum avi maria a chredo ac velly yr ail bore ar trydydd am y ddwy wers eraill ac ef a gad hynny yn dda lawer gwaith a duw ai torro ar bawb ar y bo arno. (emphasis mine) Against the fever + the Father is alpha and omega + the Son is truth + the Holy spirit is the remedy + and write this on three wafers or three slices of apples, the first part at first morning thereon, and five Pater Nosters and five Ave Marias and a Credo and then the second morning and third morning the other verses and he who performs this well many times, God will relieve him of everything that be upon him.71

Both scribes therefore distinguish between Latin to be written, in which the letters matter but not the sound, and Latin to be read, in which the sound matters but not the letters. Clearly, they envisioned users who could read and perhaps write but who were unfamiliar with reading Latin aloud.72 It is entirely possible that scribes and compilers imagined similar audiences at other times and in other places. Although the evidence for literacy is limited and any conclusions nec­ essarily tentative, several broad inferences emerge from the preceding discussion. First, Latin literacy was relatively unusual and was generally associated with careers in the church. The ability to understand written charms, which largely use Latin, would therefore not have been wide­ spread. English literacy was more common and might have allowed people to read powerful words aloud in any language, even without understand­ ing their meaning. Writing was not necessarily part of even a well­educated person’s training but appears to have been practiced by people in a range 70. National Library of Wales, Peniarth MS 205, and Sotheby MS C.2; Leach, “Healing Charms,” 74. 71. National Library of Wales, Peniarth MS 205, pp. 41– 42; Leach, “Healing Charms,” 73. 72. National Library of Wales, Peniarth MS 205, pp. 41– 42, and Sotheby MS C.2, pp. 115– 16; Leach, “Healing Charms,” 76– 77.

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of social positions, albeit with different levels of expertise. This might have allowed some people to copy textual charms without knowing what they said and meant. We cannot assume that either the person writing or the person using the charm necessarily understood its text. However, both the written word itself and the Latin language, associated with Christian learning, may have carried connotations of prestige and religious power on which the charm’s words could draw for their efficacy.

Acting like a Charm: The Sword Hilt of Beowulf, Lines 1687– 93 In the previous chapter, I argued that some general assumptions about how power might be transmitted were shared between relics, images, writ­ ten charms, and other forms of holy matter. In many cases, the primary function of each relic or charm was connected to its history: there was a connection between successful healing in the past and the hoped­for re­ covery in the present, or between the manner of a saint’s martyrdom and the cures that he or she enacted. These ideas, combined with the belief that texts could transmit power without being read or understood, also appear in contexts beyond discussion of the relics and charms themselves. Their presence in literary texts suggests that the assumptions that lie behind the use of charms were well known and that they applied to supernatural power of many kinds. Although Beowulf does not refer to charms directly, it contains one pas­ sage that can be interpreted in terms of these elements of charm function: Beowulf ’s fight with Grendel’s mother is won using a sword that draws on the idea of past successes projecting their effects into the present, even if the hero is ignorant of them in the moment.73 The battle between Beowulf and Grendel’s mother takes place in Grendel’s mother’s hall, submerged deep below the surface of a nightmarish lake. Beowulf first strikes at Gren­ del’s mother with the impressive sword Hrunting, lent to him by Unferth. Its blade fails him— it is unable to pierce Grendel’s mother’s skin. Even af­ ter its failure, however, Beowulf acknowledges its many excellent qualities 73. “Early daters” and “late daters” of Beowulf have long debated the issue of when the poem came into existence in its present form, with estimates ranging from the late seventh century to the point at which it was copied in British Library, Cotton MS Vitellius A xv around the year 1000. In recent years, the matter has become quite fraught; see the (sometimes polemical) discussion in Leonard Neidorf, ed., The Dating of Beowulf: A Reassessment, Anglo-Saxon Studies 24 (Cambridge: D. S. Brewer, 2014). I myself have been persuaded by the lively arguments in Roberta Frank, “A Scandal in Toronto: ‘The Dating of Beowulf ’ a Quarter Century On,” Speculum 82, no. 4 (October 2007): 843– 64.

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(lines 1807– 12).74 Although some critics have argued otherwise, it seems that we are not to judge the sword itself as deficient.75 As the poet tells us, “ða wæs forma sið / deorum madme þæt his dom alæg” (lines 1527– 28; it was the first time that the fame of that precious treasure had failed).76 In other words, the sword is good, but the task of dispatching a monster this horrifying is simply too much for it. Flinging Unferth’s sword aside, Beowulf finds another among the armor in the hall— an “ancient giant­sword” (line 1558; ealdsweord eotenisc), too heavy for any other man to wield— and attacks again. It is with this sword that he kills Grendel’s mother and severs the head from Grendel’s lifeless body. The sword’s blade melts away on contact with the Grendel­ kin’s blood, but the hilt remains intact. It is only later in the poem, follow­ ing Beowulf ’s return to Heorot, that the hilt is described in greater detail: Hroðgar maðelode; hylt sceawode, ealde lafe. On ðæm wæs or writen fyrngewinnes; syðþan flod ofsloh, gifen geotende giganta cyn, frecne geferdon; þæt wæs fremde þeod ecean dryhtne; him þæs endelean þurh wæteres wylm waldend sealde. Hrothgar spoke— he studied the hilt of the old heirloom, where was written the origin of ancient strife, when the flood slew, rushing seas, the race of giants— they suffered awfully. That was a people alien 74. All references are to R. D. Fulk, Robert E. Bjork, and John D. Niles, eds., Klaeber’s Beowulf and the Fight at Finnsburg, 4th ed. (Toronto: University of Toronto Press, 2008). 75. See, for example, James L. Rosier, “Design for Treachery: The Unferth Intrigue,” PMLA 77, no. 1 (March 1962): 5– 7; Geoffrey Hughes, “Beowulf, Unferth and Hrunting: An Interpretation,” English Studies 58, no. 5 (1977): 393– 94. Other scholars, whose arguments I find more persuasive, have viewed the sword more positively. See, for instance, J. R. Hall, “The Sword Hrunting in Beowulf: Unlocking the Word ‘Hord,’” Studies in Philology 109, no. 1 (Winter 2012): 12– 18; Michael J. Enright, “The Warband Context of the Unferth Episode,” Speculum 73, no. 2 (April 1998): 310, 315. Enright argues that there may be a magical link between sword and owner and that the sword may therefore fail not because it is itself at fault but because Unferth is false: see pp. 318– 19. 76. All translations are from R. M. Liuzza, ed., Beowulf: Second Edition (Buffalo: Broadview Editions, 2013).

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to the eternal Lord; a last reward the Ruler gave them through the raging waters. ( line s 16 87– 93 )

The sword is also inscribed in runes with the unspecified name of the person for whom it was first made. Scholars have struggled to understand what precisely the poet envisaged when he described the inscribed sword hilt.77 No surviving English sword hilts from the period are illustrated in this way, nor do any carry runic inscriptions of the complexity necessary to convey a story as detailed as that of the giants’ destruction.78 Whether the scene of the giants’ death in the flood was envisaged as textual or pictorial, it can be understood in terms of the logic that un­ derpins many medieval charms. The decoration on the sword hilt both prefigures (in the sense that it was made long before Beowulf found it) and echoes (in the sense of the passage’s position within the poem) the sword’s success against Grendel’s mother. Early in the poem, the poet tells the reader that Grendel, his mother, and the race of giants are all descended from Cain.79 In the same passage, the poet also tells the reader that God punished the giants because they fought against him (lines 102– 14).80 On the hilt of the sword that Beowulf uses to kill Grendel’s mother and to behead Grendel, therefore, is a narrative describing God’s destruction of the Grendel family’s ancestors or relatives. For the giant who presumably made the sword, the images might serve to sharpen their rage against God, while for Beowulf and the audience of the poem, the narrative shows the giants’ justified defeat. This is just one among many instances in which the poem’s events reflect each other.81 It is also one in which the narration of the mythical past can be seen as contributing, in charm­like fashion, to the 77. See, for example, Marijane Osborn, “The Great Feud: Scriptural History and Strife in Beowulf,” PMLA 93, no. 5 (October 1978): 977– 78; William Cooke, “Three Notes on Swords in Beowulf,” Medium Ævum 72, no. 2 (2003): 303– 4; Richard J. Schrader, “The Language on the Giant’s Sword Hilt in Beowulf,” Neuphilologische Mitteilungen 94, no. 2 (1993): 141– 42; Michael R. Near, “Anticipating Alienation: Beowulf and the Intrusion of Literacy,” PMLA 108, no. 2 (March 1993): 323– 24. 78. Hilda Ellis Davidson, The Sword in Anglo-Saxon England: Its Archaeology and Literature. 2nd ed. (Woodbridge, UK: Boydell Press, 1994), 137– 41. 79. The story of Cain and Abel is told in Genesis 4:1– 18. 80. Genesis 6:4 describes giants on the earth, while Genesis 7:21– 23 describes the flood that kills every living thing— presumably including the giants— except Noah and those with him in the ark. 81. Daniel Anlezark, Water and Fire: The Myth of the Flood in Anglo-Saxon England, Manchester Medieval Literature (Manchester: Manchester University Press, 2006), 297. The Beowulf poet’s use of the flood myth is explored in detail on pp. 291– 359.

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outcome of events in the poem’s present, even if Beowulf is unaware of the sword’s history when he seizes it. The hilt depicts or describes the origi­ nal destruction of the giants in the flood, bestowing power on the sword and allowing Beowulf to destroy the descendants of giants, who cannot be harmed with ordinary weapons. The ancient biblical victory parallels and enables the present one, even though Beowulf has not observed the narrative on the hilt. The sword’s decorative hilt becomes not only a prediction of its efficacy but the very thing that guarantees it. This follows the same logical strategy as medieval and later charms that describe a past situation in which suc­ cessful healing or protection occurred, then compare or equate the past and present situations. Such charms were common in pre­Conquest En­ gland (box 2.3). One charm for bleeding refers to the successful cure of the woman who touched the hem of Christ’s garment.82 A charm for eye pain, meanwhile, refers to God healing the eyes of blind Tobit, while childbirth charms often narrate a series of successful and miraculous births. The association between the destruction of the giants and the death of Grendel’s mother is furthered by references to the biblical flood that echo the environment in which Grendel and his mother live. Their lake is repeatedly described as a “flod,” first as a “flod under foldan” (line 1361; flood under the earth), with its fearsome and unnatural character demon­ strated by the spectacle of “fyr on flode” (line 1366; fire on the flood). It is also described as a “flod” (line 1422; flood) later in the passage— this time with its terrifying waters bloody. The “wæteres wylm” (line 1693; surging of waters) with which God kills the giants similarly echoes the description of the “brimwylm” (line 1494; surging lake) where Grendel’s mother lives. Tying the two events together most neatly, the same half­ line is repeated when God destroys the giants and when Beowulf beheads Grendel: “he him ðæs lean forgeald” (lines 114 and 1584; he gave them a reward for that).83 In sum, the implication that the sword’s power might stem from its association with the biblical destruction of the giants helps to place Beow­ ulf ’s actions and their outcomes into a long and revered Christian history that not only explains but also facilitates them. The logic of Beowulf ’s victory parallels the logic behind other forms of supernatural artifact, whether textual amulet or holy relic. This example further strengthens 82. Mark 5:24– 34, Luke 8:42– 48, and Matthew 9:19– 22. 83. The parallels between the flood and the episode in Grendel’s mother’s underwater lair are explored in Anlezark, Water and Fire, 304– 11.

Box 2.3 Pre-Conquest Parallels between Past Success and Present Expectation British LiBrary, royaL Ms 2 a XX, foL. 16v (ca. 750– 825) Riuos cruoris torridi. contacta uestis obstruit fletu riganti supplicis. arent fluenta sanguinis: per illorum quae siccata dominica labante coniuro sta. Per dominum nostrum. He stops streams of blood with the touch of his dry garment. The flows of blood are made dry by the suppliant’s moistening tears. Through their flows which were dried by the Lord’s weakening, I conjure you— stand. Through our lord.

The term labante, translated here as “weakening,” I understand to refer to Jesus’s perception that power leaves him as the bleeding woman touches his clothes in Mark 5:30. The Latin of the charm— both here and where it is repeated elsewhere in the manuscript— is corrupt, and my translation is therefore tentative. A slightly longer version of the charm occurs on fol. 49r– v, while a version with some Greek text appears on fol. 49v. This manuscript was probably at Worcester before the Conquest. See Richard Gameson, “Book Production and Decoration at Worcester in the Tenth and Eleventh Centuries,” in St. Oswald of Worcester: Life and Influence, ed. Nicholas Brooks and Catherine Cubitt, Studies in the Early History of Britain: The Makers of England (London: Leicester University Press, 1996), 230. The Latin words of this charm, up to “fluenta sanguinis” (flowing blood), are taken from the seventeenth verse of Sedulius’s Hymnus de Vita Christi, or A solis ortus cardine. See Leonard Forster, “‘Rivos Cruoris Torridi’ in Charms to Staunch Bleeding,” English Studies 36, no. 6 (1955): 308– 9. The full poem is edited and translated in Peter G. Walsh and Christopher Husch, ed. and trans, One Hundred Latin Hymns: Ambrose to Aquinas, Dumbarton Oaks Medieval Library 18 (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 2012), 86– 93.

British LiBrary, harLey Ms 585, foL. 181r– v (ca. 975– 1025), Word division norMaLized. Contra oculorum dolorum: Domine sancte pater omnipotens eterne deus sana oculos hominis istius .N. sicut sanasti oculos filii (continued)

Box 2.3 (continued ) tobi et multorum cecorum quos domine tu es oculos cecorum manus aridorum pes claudorum sanitas egrorum resurrectio mortuorum felicitas martyrum et omnium sanctorum. Oro domine ut eregas et inlumnas oculos famuli tui .N. in quacumque ualitudine constitutum medelis celestibus sanare digneris tribuere famulo tuo .N. ut armis iustitie munitus diabolo resistat et regnum consequatur eternum. Per [. . .]. Against eye pain. Lord, Holy Father, omnipotent eternal God, heal the eyes of this man [name], just as you healed the eyes of the son of Tobi [sic] and of multiple blind people who [. . .] Lord, you are the eyes of the blind, the hand of the withered, the foot of the lame, the health of the sick, the resurrection of the dead, the happiness of the martyrs and of all the saints. I pray, Lord, that you guide and illuminate the eyes of your servant [name] in whatever state of health, you would deign to bestow healing by celestial remedies on your servant [name], that he, armed with the weapons of justice, may withstand the devil and reach the eternal kingdom. Through [. . .].

The story of Tobit’s blindness being healed by his son Tobias appears in the Bible at Tobit 11:10– 14.

BodLeian LiBrary, Ms Junius 85, foL. 17r– v (ca. 1040– 1060) wið wif bearn eacenu; Maria uirgo peperit christum elizabet sterelis peperit iohannem baptistam; Adiuro te infans si es masculus; Aut femina. per patrem. & filium. & spiritum sanctum; vt exeas. & recedas & ultra. ei non noceas neque in sipientiam illi facias. amen; Videns dominus flentes sorores lazari ad monumentum lacrimatus est coram iudeis & clamabat lazare ueniforas & prodiit; ligatis manibus. & pedibus qui fverat quatri duanus mortuus; Writ ðis onwexe ðenæfre necomto nanen wyrce ⁊ bind under hire swiðran fot;For a woman big with child: The virgin Mary bore Christ; barren Elizabeth bore John the Baptist. I adjure you, infant, whether you are

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Box 2.3 (continued ) male or female, by the Father and the Son and the Holy Spirit, that you come out and depart and that you harm her no further, nor do to her any foolishness. Amen. When the Lord saw the sisters of Lazarus in tears at the tomb, he wept in the presence of the Jews and cried out: Lazarus, come forth, and out he came, hands and feet bound, the man who had been dead for four days. Write this on wax that has not been used for any other purpose and bind it under her right foot.

oXford, Jesus coLLege, Ms 37, foL. 156r (ca. 1150– 1200) Ad mulierem que partu laborat. Maria genuit christum. Elisabeth peperit Iohannem baptistam. Cilina peperit remigium. Sic & hec mulier .N. pariat sine dolore. In nomine + patris. & + filii. & spiritus + sancti. Lazare ueni foras christus te uocat. Anna peperit mariam. Maria autem peperit christum dominum. Pater noster .iii. For a woman who labors in childbirth: Mary bore Christ. Elizabeth brought forth John the Baptist. Celina brought forth Remigius. So also may this woman [name] give birth without pain. In the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit. Lazarus come forth: Christ calls you. Anna brought forth Mary, while Mary brought forth Christ the Lord. Three Pater Nosters.

The crosses are written above each of the three persons of the Trinity, indicating that the practitioner should make the sign of the cross as those words are spoken.

the sense that beliefs about how power was transmitted were easily ap­ plied in new contexts. Whether or not the evidence of Beowulf should be taken to suggest that charms drawing together past and present were well known in the period, the rhetorical logic that underpinned them was evidently accepted.

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“Magis est peccatum quam premium”: Pre-Conquest Attitudes toward Charms Even if literacy was limited and few people in pre­Conquest England had direct access to the content of written words, Christianity’s influential ideas about the power of words would have been available to at least some of the literate and illiterate alike. The Bible demonstrates the power of words, both written and spoken, and provides a basis for their efficacy. This is most evident in the opening of the Gospel of John, which equates word and divinity in the verse “In principio erat Verbum, et Verbum erat apud Deum, et Deus erat Verbum” (In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God).84 These phrases, identi­ fying the Word with God, were seen as particularly powerful. They appear in spoken or written form in at least three of the surviving medical rem­ edies from pre­Conquest England and continued to be used for medical purposes in England (and, as we have seen above, in Wales) throughout the Middle Ages (box 2.4). As the gospel reading for the principal Christ­ mas Mass, this text— and the implications of its association between God and the Word— would have been well known to Christians.85 Most pre­Conquest writers who discussed the use of powerful words fo­ cused on spoken words and charms, and most condemned words that were not derived from the Bible. Theodore’s Penitential, named after Theodore of Tarsus, archbishop of Canterbury from 668– 690, assigns a variable penance of one year, three forty­day periods, or forty days to women who performed incantations (incantationes) or diabolical divinations (divinationes diabolicas).86 A canon of King Edgar (r. 959– 975) encouraged priests to forbid superstitious practices including the use of galdor, or incantations.87 Mean­ while, Ælfric of Eynsham, writing in the late tenth century, argued that 84. John 1:1. 85. M. Bradford Bedingfield, The Dramatic Liturgy of Anglo-Saxon England (Woodbridge, UK: Boydell Press, 2002), 26. 86. “Si mulier incantationes vel divinationes diabolicas fecerit, I. annum, vel III. XLmas., vel XL. juxta qualitatem culpæ peniteat” (If a woman made incantations or diabolical divinations, she should do penance for one year, or three forty-day periods, or forty days, according to the nature of the offense). Theodore’s Penitential I xv.4, in Arthur West Haddan and William Stubbs, eds., Councils and Ecclesiastical Documents Relating to Great Britain and Ireland, vol. 3 (London: Macmillan, 1871), 190; Audrey L. Meaney, “Anglo-Saxon Idolators and Ecclesiasts from Theodore to Alcuin: A Source Study,” Anglo-Saxon Studies in Archaeology and History 5 (1992): 103. 87. Wulfstan, Wulfstan’s Canons of Edgar, ed. Roger Fowler, EETS OS 266 (London: Oxford University Press, 1972), 16.

Box 2.4 “In Principio Erat Verbum” in Pre-Conquest Charms British LiBrary, harLey Ms 585 (Lacnunga), foLs. 137r– 38r (ca. 975– 1025) Þis is se halga drænc wið ælfsidene ⁊ wið eallum feondes costungum writ on husldisce. In principio erat uerbum usque non conprehenderunt et reliqua. Et circumibat ihesus totam galileam docens usque et secuti sunt eum turbe multe. Deus in nomine tuo usque in finem. Deus misereatur nobis usque in finem. Domine deus in adiutorium usque in finem. Nim cristallan ⁊ disman ⁊ sidewaran ⁊ cassuc ⁊ finol ⁊ nim sester fulne gehalgodes wines ⁊ hat unmælne mon gefeccean swigende ongean streame healfne sester yrnendes wæteres nim þonne ⁊ lege ða wyrta ealle in þæt wæter ⁊ þweah þæt gewrit of ðan husldisce þærin swiðe clæne geot þonne þæt gehalgade win ufon on ðæt oþer ber þon to ciricean læt singan mæssan ofer. ane omnibus. oðre Contra tribulatione þriddan sancta marian Sing ðas gebedsealmas. Miserere mei deus. Deus in nomine tuo Deus misereatur nobis. Domine deus Inclina domine ⁊ credo ⁊ Gloria in excelsis deo. ⁊ letanias. Pater noster ⁊ bletsa georne in ælmihtiges drihtnes naman ⁊ cweð in nomine patris et filii. et spiritus sancti sit benedictum bruc syþþan This is the holy drink against the influence of elves and against all temptations of the fiend. Write on a paten “In the beginning was the word,” until “comprehended it not,” and the rest, “And Jesus went about all Galilee, teaching” up to “and much people followed him,” “O God, by thy name” until the end, “May God have mercy on us” until the end, “Lord God, [come] to my assistance” until the end. Take the herb crystallium and tansy and zedoary and sedge and fennel, and take a full pitcher of consecrated wine, and order an immaculate man to fetch, in silence, against the current, half a pitcher of running water. Then take the herbs and lay them all in the water, and wash the writing from the paten into it very cleanly. Then pour the consecrated wine from above onto the other, and carry it to the church and have masses sung over it, first “To all [the saints],” second “Against tribulation,” third “Holy Mary.” Sing these prayer psalms: “Have mercy on me, O God,” “O God, by thy name,” “May God have mercy on us,” “Lord God,” “Incline, O Lord,” and the Creed and “Glory to God in (continued)

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Box 2.4 (continued ) the highest,” and litanies, [and] the Pater Noster, and bless it eagerly in the name of the almighty Lord, and say “In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit, let it be blessed,” then use it.

Another example of a charm that incorporates the “In principio” phrase is the charm against fever found in British Library, Royal MS 12 D xvii (Bald’s Leechbook I), fol. 51r– v (ca. 900– 980) (textbox 1.2). Yet another appears in a recipe for a holy salve on fols. 146v– 50v of British Library, Harley MS 585 (Lacnunga). The recipe is too long for inclusion here, but it involves making butter with holy water and milk from a cow of one color. The butter should be stirred with a four-pronged stick on which the names of the evangelists are written. The practitioner is instructed to sing psalms and incantations over the butter, including the “In principio” phrase. A priest should use other prayers to consecrate the wide range of herbs that will be mixed into the butter. An edition of the text can be found in Edward Pettit, ed., Anglo-Saxon Remedies, Charms, and Prayers from British Library MS Harley 585: The Lacnunga, Mellen Critical Editions and Translations 6, 2 vols (Lewiston, NY: Edwin Mellen Press, 2001), 1:31– 37 (no. LXIII). An example of the use of these words in the later Middle Ages can be found in Beinecke Rare Book & Manuscript Library, Takamiya MS 46, written in the first quarter of the fifteenth century. On fol. 25r it gives the following remedy for “the hote euell”: “Tak in somere and gadere marigoulde ⁊ herbe John ⁊ lat a prest say ouer þis herbes In principio ⁊ drynk þe jus therof iij. dayes fastynge.”

ne sceole we urne hiht on læcewyrtum besettan: ac on þam ælmihtigum scyppende þe ðam wyrtum þone cræft forgeaf; Ne sceal nan man mid galdre wyrte besingan ac mid godes wordum hi gebletsian, and swa þicgan.88 we should not set our hope in medicinal herbs, but in the Almighty Creator who gave power to the herbs. No man shall enchant an herb with incantations [galdre], but bless it with God’s words, and so take it. 88. Ælfric, “VIII Kalendas Septembris Passio Sancti Bartholomei Apostoli,” in Ælfric’s Catholic Homilies: The First Series, ed. Peter Clemoes, EETS SS 17 (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1997), 450.

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Although none of these texts specifies what constitutes an unacceptable incantation as opposed to a blessing, the contrast between the galdor that Ælfric condemns and the words of God that he encourages suggests that, at least in this context, galdor were understood as non­Christian. This view is supported by the uses of the term galdor in the medical book Lacnunga, where it refers only to sung words that have no Christian content, have Christian content alongside explicitly pagan content, or consist of unfa­ miliar words.89 However, the distinction is not always so clear. As Ciaran Arthur has argued, the term galdor was sometimes used in literary contexts to refer to prophecy or divine knowledge in obviously Christian contexts. For instance, the poem Guthlac B describes St. Guthlac’s disciple Beccel speak­ ing to his dying master and stating, “Nis þe ende feor, / þæs þe ic on galdru ongieten hæbbe” (The end is not far, according to what I have understood from your divinations [galdru]).90 In The Fates of the Apostles, a poem giv­ ing an account of the apostles’ martyrdoms, the poet Cynewulf refers to his own poem as a galdor. He asks the reader to pray for him, identifying the reader as “mann se ðe lufige / þisse galdres begang” (he who loves the course of this galdor).91 In poetic texts such as these, the term galdor can evidently refer to elevated or privileged Christian speech. Medical books other than Lacnunga occasionally use galdor more pos­ itively as well. In Bald’s Leechbook I, for instance, a single set of religious words to be sung as a treatment for snakebite is described as “halgan Sancte Iohannes gebed ⁊ gealdor” (prayer and charm of the holy St. John).92 This may reflect a more positive connotation of the term, which in Christian contexts could “take on a prophetic, liturgical, or even sacramental sig­ nificance.”93 Elsewhere in Bald’s Leechbook I, a recipe for a drink against “lencten adle” (spring disease, apparently referring to dysentery, typhus, or tertian fever) instructs the practitioner to say “feower godspella naman ⁊ gealdor ⁊ gebed” (the names of the four gospels, and a charm, and a

89. Some of the unknown words may be derived from Old Irish. See Howard Meroney, “Irish in the Old English Charms,” Speculum 20, no. 2 (April 1945): 174– 77. The charms that are referred to as galdor are two separate uses of the charm beginning “Gonomil orgomil marbumil,” fols. 136v– 37r; one of the charms beginning “Acre arcre arnem,” fol. 148r–v; the Nine Herbs Charm, fols. 160r– 63v; and the charm for “dweorh” that describes an “inspidenwiht,” fol. 167r– v. 90. Arthur, “Charms,” Liturgies, and Secret Rites, 30. 91. Arthur, “Charms,” Liturgies, and Secret Rites, 41. 92. British Library, Royal MS 12 D xvii, fols. 42v– 43r. 93. Arthur, “Charms,” Liturgies, and Secret Rites, 63.

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prayer).94 The names of the evangelists are given, followed by the words “intercedite pro me. Tiecon. leleloth. patron. adiuro uos” (intercede for me. Tiecon. Leleloth. Patron. I adjure you). The author of the recipe may be differentiating between the outlandish, unknown words and the words in Latin. However, given the condemnations of galdor in other texts from the period, it is not obvious whether the recipe would have been entirely redeemed by its Christian content or condemned by some for the strange words it contained. The examples above deal with powerful spoken words. References to the legitimacy or otherwise of efficacious written words in the pre­ Conquest period are less common, although some do survive. Several texts condemn the use of ligatures or phylacteries, but it is impossible to know whether they are referring to ligatures of all kinds— including textual amulets— or only to those made from stones or herbs.95 One early reference to amulets containing some sort of writing appears in the Egbert Penitential, which, despite Continental influence, may contain a core of En­ glish material written by Egbert, the first archbishop of York (735– 66).96 The penitential condemns diviners and sorcerers who “hang devilish am­ ulets or devilish characters or herbs or amber on themselves,” assigning a penalty of five years of penance for a cleric and three for a layman.97 However, since this passage appears to have been taken directly from 94. British Library, Royal MS 12 D xvii, fol. 53r. 95. For instance, Ælfric’s St. Bartholomew’s Day homily condemns herbal ligatures, stating, “Se wisa agustinus cwæð þæt unpleolic sy þeah hwa læcewyrte þicge: ac þæt he tælð to unalyfedlicere wigelunge. gif hwa þa wyrt on him becnytte buton he hi to þam dolge gelecge” (Wise Augustine said that it is not perilous for anyone to eat a medicinal herb; but he reprehends it as a forbidden charm if any one bind those herbs on himself, unless he lay them on a wound). Ælfric, “Passio Sancti Bartholomei,” 450, lines 319– 21. Malcolm Godden has identified the source of this passage as Augustine’s De doctrina Christiana, book 2, chap. 29, reading “Aliud est enim dicere ‘tritam istam herbam si biberis, uenter non dolebit,’ et aliud est dicere ‘istam herbam collo si suspenderis, uenter non dolebit.’ Ibi enim probatur contemperatio salubris, hic significatio superstitiosa damnatur” (For it is one thing to say ‘If you drink this herb, ground up, your stomach will not hurt,’ and another to say ‘If you hang this herb around your neck, your stomach will not hurt.’ The former is proven to be a mixture beneficial for health, the latter is condemned as a superstitious sign). Malcolm Godden, Ælfric’s Catholic Homiles: Introduction, Commentary and Glossary, EETS SS 18 (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2000), 266. 96. Allen J. Frantzen, “The Penitentials Attributed to Bede,” Speculum 58, no. 3 ( July 1983): 584– 85. Meaney, “Idolators and Ecclesiasts,” 108, takes a more skeptical view of the Egbert Penitential’s English origins. 97. “Phylactaria etiam diabolica vel caracteres diabolicas vel erbas vel succinum suum vel sibi inpendere.” Vatican Library, Pal. Lat. 294, fol. 84r. The text is edited in

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Sermo 13 of Caesarius of Arles (469/70– 542), it may give more informa­ tion about practices in fifth­century Gaul, where Sermo 13 was written, than about those in eighth­century Britain.98 Furthermore, the phrase that clearly refers to written symbols, “vel caracteres diabolicas” (or devilish characters), appears in only one manuscript of the Penitential— although, as it is present in similar passages in Caesarius of Arles and Burchard’s Decretum, it may still be the intended reading.99 Finally, neither “devilish amulets” nor “devilish characters” seems likely to refer to the explicitly Christian texts used in the majority of the surviving written charms, sug­ gesting that the penitential may be condemning practices for which little evidence remains. The letters of Alcuin give more insight into the practice of wearing efficacious texts with Christian content, although they do not discuss the use of the written word for medical purposes. Two letters, both written after 793 but before Alcuin’s death in 804, condemn the practice of wearing Christian texts. The first of these, which was written to an English arch­ bishop, has already been mentioned in chapter 1. The letter complains: Ligaturas vero, quas plurimi homines illis in partibus habere solent et sancta quaeque in collo portare, non in corde desiderant: et cum illis Dei verbis sanctissimis vel reliquiis sanctorum vadunt ad inmunditias suas vel etiam uxoribus debitum solvunt: quod magis est peccatum quam premium, magisque maledictio quam benedictio.100 Indeed there are amulets, which many men in those parts are in the habit of wearing, wanting to carry every sacred thing around their necks, not in their hearts: and with these most sacred words of God or the relics of the saints they go to their dirty acts or even do their duty by their wives: which is more a sin than a benefit, and more a curse than a blessing.

Here, Alcuin advises that English Christians should imitate the gospel teachings by storing their lessons firmly in the mind rather than placing trust in the material text. He appears to be concerned primarily with the Hermann Joseph Schmitz, Die Bussbücher und die Bussdisciplin der Kirche (Mainz: Franz Kirchheim, 1883– 98), 2:668. 98. Meaney, “Idolators and Ecclesiasts,” 109. 99. Meaney, “Idolators and Ecclesiasts,” 109. The reading appears in Vatican Library Pal. Lat. 294, fol. 84r. 100. Alcuin, “Letters” in Monumenta Germaniae Historica, Epp. 4: Epistolae Karolini aevi (II), ed. Ernest Dümmler (Berlin: apud Weidmannos, 1895), 449, no. 291.

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sin caused by disrespectfully exposing sacred words to the degradations of daily life. Furthermore, he argues that people use textual amulets be­ cause they want to carry sacred things, implying that the presence of the Christian text— whether or not anyone reads it— sanctifies the amulets. Drawing a direct parallel between the wearing of sacred words and the wearing of sacred objects, he makes no distinction between the two prac­ tices and thus suggests their equivalency. In the second letter, addressed to Æthelheard, archbishop of Canter­ bury, Alcuin relates: Multas videbam consuetudines, que fieri non debebant. Quas tua sollicitudo prohibeat. Nam ligaturas portant, quasi sanctum quid estimantes. Sed melius est in corde sanctorum imitare exempla, quam in sacculis portare ossa; evangelicas habere scriptas ammonitiones in mente magis, quam pittaciolis exaratas in collo circumferre.101 I saw many customs that must not be practiced, which your concern should prohibit. For they carry amulets, as if thinking them something sacred. But it is better to imitate the examples of the saints in the heart than to carry bones in little bags; better to have gospel teachings written in the mind than to wear them around the neck scribbled on scraps of parchment.

Here, by contrast, Alcuin argues not that the holy relics and words are desecrated by being worn as amulets but that to have faith in physical contact with relics and words is itself superstitious. He dismisses the texts and bones in little bags, presumably relics of the saints, in favor of inter­ nalizing Christian teachings in the mind and heart. There may also be an implication that the texts and objects are not what they seem: rather than saying that the bags contain relics, he says they contain unidentified bones (“ossa”), while the gospel teachings are scribbled (“exaratas”) rather than accurately copied. Whether the text is accurate or not, Alcuin argues that such textual amulets are not sacred. The carrying of amulets, which the previous passage treated as a proper practice that should be protected from disrespect, is here treated as entirely ineffective and misguided. As with the references to spoken charms, the few surviving references to the use of written charms focus on ensuring correct Christian behavior. Devilish, non­Christian texts were condemned, while holy words were to be treated with respect due to their sacred content rather than their 101. Alcuin, “Letters,” no. 290.

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material form. However, these discussions do not reflect the full range of ways in which written charms were used. Both writers refer specifi­ cally to amulets to be worn, with no mention of other interactions with efficacious writing, yet instructions for wearing text for protection are relatively rare in the surviving manuscripts. I know of just two examples from pre­Conquest England, both copies of the Heavenly Letter, a popular text purporting to be a letter from Jesus to Abgar, King of Edessa.102 We might therefore look beyond explicit historical references as we try to understand pre­Conquest attitudes toward the power of the word.

The Power of the Written Word according to Solomon and Saturn I The perceived protective power of Christian text and spoken word is ev­ ident in Solomon and Saturn I, an Old English dialogue poem in which Solomon describes the letters of the Pater Noster individually springing to life to launch a physical attack on the devil. The poem survives in two copies: one nearly complete but missing some text at the beginning, and one containing just the first ninety­three lines copied into the margin of the Old English translation of Bede’s Ecclesiastical History.103 Although difficult to date, it may have been composed between the late ninth cen­ tury and ca. 930.104 Solomon and Saturn I presents the Pater Noster as powerful speech, something to be spoken by anyone who “wile geornlice ðone Godes cwide / singan soðlice” (lines 84– 85; will eagerly sing the utterance of God truly), while simultaneously imagining it in terms of written language. The Pater Noster’s protective effect is described in terms of the letters used to write the prayer, each of which assaults the devil in its own way. The letter 102. These appear in British Library, Royal MS 2 A xx, fols. 12r– 13v and Cotton MS Galba A xiv, fol. 27v. There are also two examples of textual amulets for protection in British Library, Sloane MS 475, copied soon after the Conquest. They appear on fols. 137r–v and 137v, although neither uses sacred words. For more on the Heavenly Letter, see Christopher M. Cain, “Sacred Words, Anglo- Saxon Piety, and the Origins of the Epistola salvatoris in London, British Library, Royal 2.A.xx,” Journal of English and Germanic Philology 108, no. 2 (April 2009): 169– 89. 103. Cambridge, Corpus Christi College, MSS 422, pp. 1– 6, which also contains two other dialogues between Solomon and Saturn, and 41, pp. 196– 98, whose margins also contain a number of charm-texts. 104. Daniel Anlezark, The Old English Dialogues of Solomon and Saturn, AngloSaxon Texts (Cambridge: D. S. Brewer, 2009), 49. All quotations and translations from the poem are taken from this edition. Where two readings are available, I have favored those from the more complete copy of the poem in Cambridge, Corpus Christi College, MS 422.

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t, for example, “hine teswað ond hine on ða tungan sticað, / wræsteð him ðæt woddor ond him ða wongan brieceð” (lines 94– 95; injures him and stabs him in the tongue, twists his throat, and shatters his jaws). The letter s will “wraðne gegripeð / feond be ðam fotum, læteð foreweard hleor / on strangne stan, stregdað toðas / geond helle heap” (lines 112– 15; grab the hostile fiend by the feet, let go his forward cheek onto the strong stone, and strew teeth throughout the crowd of hell). F and m, working together, “æled lætað / on ðæs feondes feax flana stregdan / biterne brogan” (lines 129– 31; will launch fire arrows at the fiend’s hair to strew bitter terror). In these graphic assaults, we see a clear claim for the physical efficacy of words, expressed in terms of text although described as spoken. Solomon further claims that the Pater Noster can defeat the devil, free souls from hell, destroy hunger, and heal the lame (lines 42, 68– 72, and 77). Several critical discussions of the poem have considered (or assumed) the extent to which Solomon’s presentation of the Pater Noster might be viewed as a charm in its own right. Raymond S. J. Grant describes it as “the most extended and detailed lorica” in its manuscript; a lorica, literally meaning “breastplate,” is an apotropaic charm that usually invokes the Trinity and offers comprehensive physical protection through a detailed list of the parts of the body that should be defended from harm.105 Marie Nelson, meanwhile, argues that the exchange between the two speakers of the poem is “a setting for the performance of a charm by one of those two speakers.”106 By contrast, I argue that the poem presents the single prayer of the Pater Noster as having the power to replace a multitude of other charms. Before returning to this question, however, I wish to examine the relationship the poem presents between spoken and written words. This 105. Raymond J. S. Grant, Cambridge, Corpus Christi College 41: The Loricas and the Missal (Amsterdam: Rodopi, 1978), 26. Loricae appear in Cambridge University Library, MS Ll.1.10; and British Library, Harley MSS 585, fols. 152r– 56v, and 2965, 38r–40v. For more on loricae, see Jennifer Reid, “The Lorica of Laidcenn: The Biblical Connections,” Journal of Medieval Latin 12 (2002): 141– 53; Thomas D. Hill, “Invocation of the Trinity and the Tradition of the Lorica in Old English Poetry,” Speculum 56, no. 2 (April 1981): 259– 67; L. Gougaud, “Étude sur les loricae celtiques et sur les prières qui s’en rapprochent,” Bulletin d’ancienne littérature et d’archéologie chrétiennes 1 (1911): 265– 81, and 2 (1912): 33– 41, 101– 27. 106. Marie Nelson, “King Solomon’s Magic: The Power of a Written Text,” Oral Tradition 5, no. 1 (1990): 20. Other scholars have also discussed the poem in the context of charms. See Judith A. Vaughan- Sterling, “The Anglo- Saxon ‘Metrical Charms’: Poetry as Ritual,” Journal of English and Germanic Philology 82, no. 2 (April 1983): 186– 200; and Victoria Symons, Runes and Roman Letters in Anglo-Saxon Manuscripts (Berlin: Walter de Gruyter GmbH, 2016), 121– 56.

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relationship, and the understanding of verbal power it implies, sheds light on the efficacious words of charms more generally, as well as providing a basis for considering whether or not the poem depicts a charm perfor­ mance. Katherine O’Brien O’Keeffe has rightly drawn attention to the complex interaction of speech and text in Solomon and Saturn I’s presentation of the Pater Noster. She argues that “the power of the prayer, anatomized in the poem, comes to be known through its physical state as a written object, but this power can only be used by one who speaks or sings the prayer.”107 However, she goes on to claim that the poem presents a contrast between written and oral knowledge in which the oral is superior. Saturn, who seeks to understand the Pater Noster, makes all the references to learning from books, while the wise Solomon is associated only with speech.108 Marie Nelson similarly states that Solomon’s explanation of the Pater Nos­ ter demonstrates the primacy of the spoken word over the written word.109 It is worth noting, in support of her argument, that while the instruction to sing or say the Pater Noster appears in several early charms, none of the surviving examples calls for it to be written down (box 2.5).110 Never­ theless, I suggest that— far from arguing for the primacy of speech— the poem presents the Pater Noster as balanced between speech and text, drawing power from both. The long passage in which the letters of the Pater Noster are person­ ified as warriors invokes the powers of both written and spoken words. The prayer, as mentioned above, is undeniably spoken. This is empha­ sized again after the warring letters have been described: the Pater Noster puts fiends to flight “ðurh mannes muð” (line 148; through the mouth of man). The power the prayer accesses, however, is the power of the written word— the word seen as a series of letter forms that pugnaciously leap into action and combat the forces of evil. Some scholars have even argued that the shapes of the letters on the page might have inspired the method 107. Katherine O’Brien O’Keeffe, Visible Song: Transitional Literacy in Old English Verse, Cambridge Studies in Anglo- Saxon England 4 (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1990), 50. 108. O’Keeffe, Visible Song, 55. 109. Nelson, “Solomon’s Magic,” 33. 110. Cambridge, Corpus Christi College, MS 41, which contains a number of charms and a partial copy of Solomon and Saturn I, does not even include charms in which the Pater Noster must be recited. It does, however, include a childbirth charm on p. 329 that uses the formula “sator arepo tenet opera rotas.” The letters of this formula, as discussed in chapter 4, can be rearranged into a cross spelling “Pater Noster.”

Box 2.5 Pre-Conquest Charms Using the Pater Noster British LiBrary, royaL Ms 12 d Xvii (baLd’s Leechbook I), foL. 44r– v (ca. 900– 980) Drenc wiþ þeoradle. sund ompran ymb delf sing þriwa pater noster. bred up þonne þu cweþe set libera nos a malo. genim þære fif snæda ⁊ seofon piporcorn gecnua togædere ⁊ þonne þu þæt wyrce sing .xii. siþum þone sealm. miserere mei deus. ⁊ gloria In excelsis deo. ⁊ pater. noster. ofgeot þonne mid wine þonne dæg ⁊ niht scade drince þonne þone drenc ⁊ bewreoh ðe wearme. Genim þonne hind hioloþan ane ofgeot mid wætere drince oþre morgne scenc fulne þonne oþre siþe seofon snæda ⁊ nigon piporcorn. Þriddansiþe nigon snæda ⁊ xi. piporcorn. drinc siþþan swiðne drenc seþe wille up yrnan ⁊ of dune. læt þonne blod under ancleow. A drink for þeor-disease. Dig around dock, sing the Pater Noster three times, and pull it up when you say “but deliver us from evil.” Take five pieces from it and seven peppercorns and grind them together, and while you do that sing twelve times the psalm “Have mercy on me, O God,” and “Glory to God in the highest,” and the Pater Noster. Then pour over with wine, and when day and night divide then drink the drink and wrap yourself up warmly. Then take horseheal alone, pour over with water, and drink a full cup on the next morning. Then the next time seven pieces and nine peppercorns, the third time nine pieces and eleven peppercorns. Afterward drink a strong drink that will run up and down, then let blood under the ankle.

British LiBrary, royaL Ms 12 d Xvii (baLd’s Leechbook II), foL. 106r– v (ca. 900– 980) Wiþ utwærce brembel þe sien begen endas on eorþan. genim þone neowran wyrttruman delf up þwit nigon sponas on þa winstran hand ⁊ sing þriwa miserere mei deus. ⁊ nigon siþun pater noster. genim þonne mucgwyrt. ⁊ efelastan. wyl þas þreo on meolcum oþþæt hy readian supe þonne on neaht nestig gode blede fulle hwile ær he oþerne mete þicge. reste hine softe. ⁊ wreo hine wearme. gif ma þearf sie do eft swa. gif þu þonne git þurfe do þriddan siþe ne þearft þu oftor.

Box 2.5 (continued ) Against dystentery, a bramble that has both ends in the earth: take the newer roots, dig them up, and cut nine shavings into the left hand and sing “Lord have mercy upon me” three times, and the Pater Noster nine times. Then take mugwort and the herb mercury. Boil the three herbs in milk until they become red, then drink a good bowlful at night fasting, a while before taking other food. He should rest quietly and wrap himself up warmly. If there is more need, do it again. Then if you still need, do it a third time. You need not do it more often.

British LiBrary, harLey Ms 585 (Lacnunga), foLs. 136v– 37r (ca. 975– 1025). Wið ðon þe mon oððe nyten wyrm gedrince gyf hit sy wæpned cynnes sing ðis leoð in þæt swiðre eare þe her æfter awriten is gif hit sy wifcynnes sing in þæt wynstre eare Gonomil orgomil marbumil marbsai ramum tofeðtengo docuillo biran cuiðær cæfmiil scuiht cuillo scuiht cuib duill marbsiramum sing nygon siðan in þæt eare þis galdor ⁊ pater noster æne. In the event that a man or beast drinks an insect, if it is male sing this song into the right ear that is written below; if it is female sing it into the left ear: “Gonomil orgomil marbumil marbsai ramum tofeðtengo docuillo biran cuiðær cæfmiil scuiht cuillo scuiht cuib duill marbsiramum.” Sing this incantation into the ear nine times, and the Pater Noster once.

Further instructions state that the same incantation can also be used against a “penetrating worm” (smeogan wyrme), although the Pater Noster is not specifically mentioned.

BodLeian LiBrary, Ms Junius 85, foL. 17v (ca. 1040– 1060) Wið gestice. Wrið cristesmæl. ⁊ sing ðrywe ðæran. ðis. ⁊ pater noster; longinus miles lancea ponxit. dominum & restitit sanguis. & recessit dolor;

(continued)

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Box 2.5 (continued ) For a stitch, write Christ’s sign and sing this onto it three times, and the Pater Noster: “The soldier Longinus punctured the Lord with a spear, and the blood remained and the pain withdrew.”

The phrase “cristesmæl” is commonly used to refer to a cross or crucifix. Following other scholars, I have interpreted “wrið” here as “write,” although it could also be an instruction to “bind together” the two pieces of a physical cross.

by which each one attacks the devil.111 Even in separating the words of the Pater Noster into individual letters, which are the constituent parts of written words, rather than into the syllables or sounds that make up spoken words, the poet explicitly presents the prayer as powerful writing. The inclusion of runes next to most of the letters that fight the devil in the copy of the poem in Cambridge, Corpus Christi College, MS 422 further stresses the textual status of the Pater Noster alongside its spoken form.112 The runes do not fit within the alliterative requirements of the poem, suggesting either that they are not original to the composition or that they were intended to have a purely visual impact.113 Some scholars have attempted to link these runic letters with vague pre­Conquest “mag­ ical practices,” although there is little evidence for any such practices in England.114 As Victoria Symons argues, however, runes do seem to have 111. Nelson, “Solomon’s Magic,” 30; Frederick B. Jonassen, “The Pater Noster Letters in the Poetic ‘Solomon and Saturn,’” Modern Language Review 83, no. 1 (1988): 1. Jonassen explains: “P, for example, carries a long staff with a golden goad (P’s foot?)” (p. 1). 112. The fragmentary copy in Cambridge, Corpus Christi College, MS 41, uses only Roman letters for the three letters it includes before finishing incomplete. 113. See Symons, Runes and Roman Letters, 150– 55. 114. See, for example, Nelson, “Solomon’s Magic,” 27; Jonassen, “Pater Noster Letters,” 2. Scholars who link runes with magic seem to be influenced by Scandinavian descriptions of runic curses, love magic, and amulets, explored in detail in Mindy MacLeod and Bernard Mees, Runic Amulets and Magic Objects (Woodbridge, UK: Boydell Press, 2006). The idea of a connection between runes and magic is challenged in Page, “Anglo- Saxon Runes,” 14– 31.

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been used “as a sort of shorthand for the concept of the written word.”115 She sees them as highlighting the potency of writing and therefore as creating “a disparity between authorial intention and scribal execution” in Solomon and Saturn I, since the runes undermine what she regards as the poet’s preference for spoken over written words.116 By contrast, I ar­ gue that the scribe’s addition of runic characters stresses a more positive approach to writing in the case of the Pater Noster: rather than privileging Solomon’s speech above Saturn’s texts, the poem suggests that the Pater Noster accesses the power of writing even when unwritten. In Saturn’s last speech in the poem, he asks Solomon how the Pater Noster should be used in the mind (lines 53– 54). Solomon responds, in the speech that eventually leads him to describe the individual letters of the Pater Noster doing battle, by identifying the Pater Noster with text and with speech simultaneously. He says: Gylden is se Godes cwide, gimmum astæned, hafað sylfren leaf. Sundor mæg æghwylc ðurh gastes gife godspel secgan. Golden is God’s utterance, studded with gems, has silver leaves. Each one separately can proclaim the Gospel through the Spirit’s grace. ( line s 63– 65)

Although the prayer is referred to as speech (“cwide”), thereby emphasiz­ ing its spoken origin in Christ’s Sermon on the Mount, the metaphors in this passage frame it as a highly decorated book in a treasure binding.117 The word leaf could refer equally to the leaves of a plant— a possibility I discuss below— or to the leaves of a book, but the description of the speech as “gylden . . . gimmum astæned” (golden . . . adorned with gems) places it in the realm of human artifacts. Gospel books were ornamented in this very way: the Lindisfarne Gospels, whose original binding is now lost, contains an inscription recording that billfrið se oncræ he gismioðade ða gihrino ða ðe utan on sint ⁊ hit gihrinade mið golde ⁊ mið gimmum æc mið sulfre ofer gylded faconleas feh.

115. Symons, Runes and Roman Letters, 142. 116. Symons, Runes and Roman Letters, 155. 117. Matthew 6:9– 13.

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Billfrith, the anchorite, forged the ornaments which are on it on the outside and adorned it with gold and with gems and also with gilded­ over silver— pure metal.118

Although a number of other texts refer to gospel books with bindings made from precious metals and decorated with jewels or ivories, no actual examples survive from pre­Conquest England.119 However, it is particu­ larly notable that bindings of this kind are specially connected with the gospel— the text that, according to Solomon and Saturn I, each “leaf ” of God’s speech can proclaim. The Pater Noster is presented, therefore, as the speech of God, expressed in book form, each leaf of which can speak the written text of the gospels. The Pater Noster in the poem, as I have stated above, is clearly intended to be spoken. But through their appeal to the materiality of book, binding and page, these metaphors, together with the anatomization of the prayer into its constituent alphabetic parts, maintain its connection with written text. The Pater Noster as described in Solomon and Saturn I is connected to the written text of the gospels as a whole. Not only does Solomon meta­ phorically describe the prayer as a physical gospel book, but he also ex­ plains that the Pater Noster “hafað . . . ofer ealle Cristes bec / widmærost word; he gewritu læreð” (lines 49– 50; has the most widely famed words, above all Christ’s books; it teaches scripture). The word for scripture can also mean simply “writing”: in linking the spoken words of the Pater Nos­ ter to the scriptures whose powers they share and teach, the poem also draws attention to the value of written text. Beyond that, the gospels seem to convey the very essence of Christian doctrine. Christian writers had materially associated Christ with the gospels since at least the early fifth century, viewing him as both their source and their living embodiment.120 The prayer’s association with the written word therefore serves as an ad­ ditional means of connection with Christ himself, reinforcing writing’s prestige and power rather than diminishing it. Tiffany Beechy suggests that the poem’s unusual descriptions of the 118. British Library, Cotton MS Nero D iv, fol. 259r. Transcribed and translated in Lawrence Nees, “Reading Aldred’s Colophon for the Lindisfarne Gospels,” Speculum 78, no. 2 (2003): 341. 119. For an account of references to English treasure bindings, see Michael Gullick, “Bookbindings,” in The Book in Britain, vol. 1, c.400– 1100, ed. Richard Gameson (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2011), 304– 7. 120. Mary McDevitt, “‘The Ink of Our Mortality’: The Late-Medieval Image of the Writing Christ-Child,” in The Christ Child in Medieval Culture: Alpha es et O!, ed. Mary Dzon and Theresa M. Kenney (Toronto: University of Toronto Press, 2012), 236.

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Pater Noster as “palm­twigged” and as a “palm­tree” link the prayer to the palm twig described in the Blickling Homilies, which has healing power and which functions as a metonym for Christ.121 The palm­twigged Pater Noster, she argues, “is also Christ himself.”122 As in modern English, the word leaf in the poet’s description of the prayer can mean both the leaf of a plant and the leaf of a book. Thus the poet draws together the image of the Pater Noster as a palm branch, which stands in for Christ, with the image of the Pater Noster as a type of sacred text, which also stands in for Christ. When spoken, the Pater Noster retains this connection to the divine Word, allowing anyone who utters the prayer to access elements of Christ’s power— power that the poem understands to be usually associ­ ated with the written word. Interpreted in this way, the poem’s emphasis on the efficacy of the spoken Pater Noster does not diminish the written text but affirms that the power of Christ— and of the text that represents him— is available both in speech and in writing. We may now ask whether or not the power of the Pater Noster should be read in terms of charm performance. In some contexts, it seems that the Pater Noster was seen as a charm in its own right, while in others it was differentiated from charms and incantations. As quoted above, Ælfric of Eynsham wrote that “ne sceal nan man mid galdre wyrte besingan ac mid godes wordum hi gebletsian, and swa þicgan” (no man shall enchant a herb with incantations, but bless it with God’s words, and so take it).123 His formulation contrasts enchantment with blessing and incantations with holy words. However, in the Old English Penitential the emphasis is different. The text forbids “wyrta gaderunga mid nanum galdre butan mid pater noster ⁊ mid credo oððe mid sumon gebede þe gode belimpe” (gathering herbs with any incantation, other than with the Pater Noster and the Creed, or with some prayer that pertains to God).124 In this for­ mulation, the Pater Noster is itself an incantation, albeit a godly one. Given this disagreement about how to categorize the Pater Noster, even between two texts advising readers to use it in the same way, it is impos­ sible to say whether the Pater Noster of Solomon and Saturn I would have been viewed as a powerful charm or a powerful prayer. However, it is clear 121. “Gepalmtwigoda,” line 12; “gepalmtwigede,” line 39; and “palmtreow,” line 167. Tiffany Beechy, “The ‘Palmtwigede’ Pater Noster Revisited: An Associative Network in Old English,” Neophilologus 99 (April 2015), 301– 13. 122. Beechy, “Palmtwigede,” 304. 123. Ælfric, “Passio Sancti Bartholomei,” 450. 124. J. Raith, ed., Die altenglische Version des Halitgar’schen Bussbuches: (sog. Poenitentiale pseudo-Ecgberti) (Hamburg: H. Grand, 1933), 30.

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that its power could replace the functions of a number of charms. After explaining how each letter will attack the devil, Solomon insists: Mæg simle se Godes cwide gumena gehwylcum ealra feonda gehwane fleondne gebrengan ðurh mannes muð. The utterance of God can always for everyone put each and every fiend to flight through the mouth of man. ( line s 146– 48)

These lines emphasize the wide­ranging efficacy of the Pater Noster: in every case, for every person, against every fiend. The poem also gives ex­ amples of the ways in which an enterprising fiend might trouble man­ kind. These include snatching sailors, biting cattle in the form of a ser­ pent, drowning horses by making them stumble in the water, and weighing down a soldier’s hands in battle (lines 151– 60). Although the surviving charms do not address these events precisely, they claim to protect against similar concerns. Several charms offer to calm storms at sea.125 Many treat snakebite.126 Others protect horses from “elf­shot,” and still others prom­ ise victory in a fight.127 The Pater Noster replaces all of these. Solomon and Saturn I asserts that, as well as providing protection from the work of fiends, the Pater Noster will counteract their attempts at charming. The poem warns that a devil Awriteð . . . on his wæpne wællnota heap, bealwe bocstafas, bill forscrifeð, meces mærðo. 125. British Library, Cotton MS Vitellius C iii, fol. 68v, and Harley MS 585, fols. 93v– 94r; and Bodleian Library, MS Hatton 76, fol. 121r. For an edition see H. J. de Vriend, ed., The Old English Herbarium and Medicina de Quadrupedibus, EETS OS 286 (London: Oxford University Press, 1984), 220. 126. British Library, Cotton MS Vitellius C iii, fol. 47v, Harley MS 585, fols. 13v– 14r, and Royal MS 12 D xvii, fols. 42v–43r and 43r; and Bodleian Library, MS Ashmole 1431, fol. 24r, MS Bodley 130, fol. 28v, and MS Hatton 76, fol. 100r. Examples have been edited in de Vriend, Herbarium, 136– 37. 127. Charms against elf-shot can be found in British Library, Royal MS 12 D xvii, fols. 58r– v and 106r, and Harley MS 585, fols. 171r and 182v. As I discuss below, the term elf-shot seems to derive from the idea that elves could inflict disease by shooting their victims. Charms for victory appear in British Library, Cotton MS Vitellius C iii, fol. 75r, and Harley MS 585, fols. 102v– 3r; and Bodleian Library, MS Bodley 130, fol. 85r, and MS Hatton 76, fol. 124v. For an edition of one example see de Vriend, Herbarium, 234.

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. . . etches on his [i.e., the warrior’s] weapon a multitude of fatal marks, harmful letters, curses the blade, the glory of the sword. ( line s 161– 63)

The word forscrifeð here can mean both “condemns” or “curses” and “in­ scribes.” The marks and letters, which suggest a powerful written charm, are etched onto the sword blade, altering it physically and canceling out its own positive qualities. It is for this reason, Solomon tells Saturn, that a man should sing the Pater Noster whenever he draws his sword (lines 163– 69). The fiend’s marks are written and enduring, while the sung Pater Noster is an impermanent utterance. Nevertheless, the poem argues that the Pater Noster will overcome the devil’s writing: an ability we might attribute to the prayer’s triple nature as speech, as writing, and as repre­ sentative of Christ.

The Evidence for the Use of Charms before 1100 Despite some expressions of suspicion and disapproval, it is clear that spo­ ken and written words were employed for protection and healing in pre­ Conquest England. The main surviving sources for their use in that period are vernacular collections of medical recipes. The three major surviving compilations, Bald’s Leechbook, Leechbook III, and Lacnunga, all include both spoken and written charms in large numbers. Individual remedies involving spoken and written words also appear written in margins and on flyleaves of other texts or are included in books of prayers or computuses. As Audrey L. Meaney has argued, the written words and other “extra­ medical” elements, such as amulets, incantations, and rituals, that occur in pre­Conquest remedies rarely seem to be based on Latin antecedents.128 Many of these spoken and written charms may therefore be original En­ glish developments. Bald’s Leechbook consists of two parts, one dealing primarily with ex­ ternal illnesses and wounds and one more interested in internal illnesses. Both it and Leechbook III are contained within the same mid­ to late tenth­ century manuscript, perhaps written at Winchester.129 At the end of Bald’s 128. Audrey L. Meaney, “Extra-Medical Elements in Anglo-Saxon Medicine,” Social History of Medicine 24, no. 1 (April 2011): 41, 54. 129. British Library, Royal MS 12 D xvii. The same scribe wrote the annals for 925– 55 in the Parker manuscript of the Anglo-Saxon Chronicle, Cambridge, Corpus Christi College, MS 173. See C. E. Wright, ed., Bald’s Leechbook: British Museum Royal Manuscript 12 D. XVII, Early English Manuscripts in Facsmile 5 (Copenhagen: Rosen-

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Leechbook is a colophon that gives the work its name, beginning “Bald habet hun[c] librum cild quem conscribere iussit” (Bald owns this book, which he ordered Cild to write down), thereby identifying Bald as the owner and Cild as the scribe or compiler.130 The third vernacular recipe collection, Lacnunga, is a medical miscellany dating from the late tenth or early eleventh century. Its manuscript, the British Library’s Harley MS 585, also contains English translations of the purely classical Herbarium of Pseudo­Apuleius and the De herbis feminis and Curae herbarum of Pseudo­ Dioscorides, as well as the Medicina de quadrupedibus, all perhaps written in the same scribal hand. Each of the three major medical collections contains verbal charm­ recipes in large numbers. Lacnunga contains forty­seven remedies that require the use of words. A small proportion of these, just six, spec­ ify that those words must be written down.131 The two parts of Bald’s Leechbook between them contain significantly fewer verbal remedies— twenty­four— but a similar number of those— seven— involve writing.132 Charms are split unequally between the two sections of the Leechbook. Twenty­one of the verbal remedies, and six of those involving writing, are from Leechbook I, which deals with external illnesses and wounds. Leechbook II includes just three verbal remedies, one of which uses text. Leechbook III contains fourteen spoken charms but only one written one, used to treat “ælfsogoða,” a disease (perhaps anemia) thought to have been caused by supernatural agency.133 These totals differ from those given in the work of Audrey Meaney, particularly in the case of Lacnunga. Meaney, when unable to determine whether a formula was intended to be spoken kilde and Bagger, 1955), 20– 23. Scholars disagree on when the texts were originally composed: see Arthur, “Charms,” Liturgies, and Secret Rites, 66– 67. 130. Wright, Bald’s Leechbook, 13. 131. The written remedies can be found in British Library, Harley MS 585, at fols. 137r– 38v, 146v– 50v, 165r, 167r– v, 165r, and 184r–v. 132. These can be found in British Library, Royal MS 12 D xvii, in Leechbook I on fols. 20r–v, 28v, 39v, 42v–43r, 43r (two recipes), 44r, 44r–v, 51r, 51v– 52r, 52r, 52r–v, 52v (two examples), 53r (four examples), 53v, 57r– v, 58r– v, and, in Leechbook II, on fols. 106r, 106r–v, and 107v. The remedies that use text are on fols. 20r– v, for bleeding; 39v, for a felon; 51r, probably for fever; 52v, against witches and elf-disease (“Wiþ ælcre yfelre leodrunan ⁊ wið ælf sidenne”); 53r, for fever and “lenctenadle” (spring-disease), and, in Leechbook II, on 106r, for an elf-shot horse (“Gif hors ofscoten sie”). 133. British Library, Royal MS 12 D xvii, fol. 124v. Dictionary of Old English: A to H Online, ed. Angus Cameron, Ashley Crandell Amos, Antonette diPaolo Healey, et al. (Toronto: Dictionary of Old English Project, 2016), https://tapor.library.utoronto .ca/doe/.

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or written down, counts it in both categories.134 Since remedies make use of spoken words far more often than they make use of written words, and since writing requires additional skills and materials, I have preferred to assume that powerful words functioned through speech unless the recipe specifically states otherwise. In whatever way the remedies are counted, however, it is clear that while the use of charms is common to all three of the Old English medical collections, the use of efficacious text is not consistent between them. In particular, the striking difference between Leechbook I, focused on external illnesses, and Leechbook II, focused on internal illnesses, suggests that verbal power was seen as more useful for treating some conditions than others. In order to explore the application of charms in more detail, I divide the verbal remedies from before 1100 into three broad categories according to the way in which they use efficacious words. In the first category, spoken charms, the words of the charm were to be either spoken or sung. They were apparently audible to the patient, and they may have derived some of their power from sound or rhythm.135 The second category is that of efficacious text, in which words were written down. The patient was not necessarily able to read, understand, or even see the words, nor were the words necessarily understood by the practitioner. Spoken charms and ef­ ficacious text are the two key ways in which verbal power was transmitted. A third category that I use to analyze the remedies is a subclass of spo­ ken charms: “liturgical” remedies in which the words to be spoken consist of or include the familiar words of a full Christian mass. Ciaran Arthur has recently argued for the liturgical character of many pre­Conquest charms, writing that some, if not all, of the rituals that have been traditionally categorised as “charms” are better considered as liturgical texts that are part of [the tenth and eleventh century] ecclesiastical culture of diversity, innovation, and experimentation. . . . The thematic and textual similarities between “charms” and liturgical texts demonstrate how difficult it is to sustain distinctions between these rituals.136 134. Meaney, “Extra-Medical,” 52. 135. Béatrice Delaurenti, “La pratique incantatoire à l’époque scolastique. Charmes et formules des réceptaires médicaux en latin et en langues romanes (XIIIe-XVe siècle),” in La Formule au Moyen Âge II: Formulas in Medieval Culture II, ed. Isabelle Draelants and Christelle Balouzat-Loubet, Atelier de Recherche sur les Textes Médiévaux 23 (Turnhout: Brepols 2015), 477– 79. 136. Arthur, “Charms,” Liturgies, and Secret Rites, 103.

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It is certainly true that some charms have significant liturgical parallels and that firm distinctions can be difficult to draw. Nevertheless, I prefer to restrict the term “liturgical” to charms that incorporate a full mass, in part because there is a clear spectrum of engagement with the liturgy in verbal remedies from this period. For example, it is hard to imagine the liturgical significance of the charm against stomachache in which the practitioner captures a dung beetle, tells it three times that he is making a remedy for stomachache, and then throws it over his shoulder.137 Other verbal rem­ edies simply include references to biblical or legendary Christian figures, while still others incorporate full­blown rituals. However, I see no reason to assume that parallels between charms and liturgical rites such as that of exorcism necessarily mean that the charm rituals “were understood as liturgical rites of exorcism that were likely to have been performed by an authorised exorcist,” or that “Anglo­Saxon scribes did not distinguish between these exorcism rituals.”138 Many charms draw upon the expected efficacy of biblical and liturgical phrases. However, the complete ritual of the Mass also invokes power of other kinds, such as the authority of the priest who performs the Mass and the divine presence in the sacrament of the Eucharist. It is impossible to separate the power of the Mass’s words from the power of the liturgical performance in which they are embedded. Furthermore, pre­Conquest sources distinguish between the power of the Mass and the power of other words. One of the earliest pieces of literary evidence for the use of charms in post­conversion England is the story of Imma in Bede’s Historia ecclesiastica gentis Anglorum, written ca. 731. Imma, who has been captured by the Mercians, cannot be bound because his chains repeatedly release them­ selves. When his guard asks whether he is carrying any loosing spells— literally “loosing letters” (litteras solutorias)—Imma denies it.139 Instead, he says that his brother is a priest, who must be offering masses that would release his soul from torment.140 As Imma is alive, the masses release his physical body instead. Seth Lerer persuasively reads this as a deliberate ef­ 137. British Library, Royal MS 12 D xvii, fol. 115v (Leechbook III). 138. Arthur, “Charms,” Liturgies, and Secret Rites, 114. 139. Bede, Bede’s Ecclesiastical History of the English People, ed. by Bertram Colgrave and R. A. B. Mynors (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1969), 402, vi.22. In the late ninth-century translation of Bede’s text into Old English, the guard explicitly describes Imma’s supposed charm as runic: “alysendlican rune” (loosening runes). See Thomas Miller, ed., The Old English Version of Bede’s Ecclesiastical History of the English People, EETS OS 96, (London: N. Trübner, 1891), I.ii, 328. Symons, Runes and Roman Letters, 123– 26. 140. Bede, Ecclesiastical History, 402, vi.22.

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fort by Bede to move from a pagan conception of words as having inherent efficacy to a Christian conception in which they function as symbols of and conduits for divine power.141 Bede draws a direct contrast between superstitious belief in efficacious words and proper Christian faith in the church’s liturgical celebrations. I therefore distinguish spoken remedies that make use of the Mass from those in which the words of the charm, however Christian their content may be, are not immediately and insepa­ rably entwined with the ritual performance of a Christian ceremony. How­ ever, the ways in which charms use words are not always clearly defined. A small proportion of the recipes make use of words of more than one kind, with two particularly complex recipes even using all three.142 Liturgical remedies, which rely on the words and performance of the Mass, are unusual not only because of their ritual context but also because they necessarily involve the cooperation of a priest. There are twenty­ one such remedies in the Old English medical collections, most of which require either three or nine masses, although some ask for as many as twelve. Examples can be found in varying numbers in all of the major receptaria. Leechbook I contains seven examples, closely grouped together, while Leechbook II contains only one.143 Leechbook III has eight examples, while Lacnunga has five.144 There are also three examples of liturgical rem­ edies in manuscripts that are primarily religious rather than medical. One, for lung disease in cattle, is found in the mid­eleventh­century manuscript British Library, Cotton MS Vitellius E xviii, which contains texts that in­ clude computus, prognostics, and a psalter.145 The Æcerbot field blessing, in which a priest sings masses over sods of earth, was copied into the tenth­ 141. Seth Lerer, Literacy and Power in Anglo-Saxon Literature (Lincoln: University of Nebraska Press, 1991), 30– 60. 142. These are the Lacnunga recipe against elvish magic and the temptations of the devil, British Library, Harley MS 585, fols. 137r– 38r, and the field blessing Æcerbot, found in British Library, Cotton MS Caligula A vii, fols. 176r– 78r. Their texts are too long to quote in full here, but an edition of the first can be found in Edward Pettit, ed., Anglo-Saxon Remedies, Charms, and Prayers from British Library MS Harley 585: The Lacnunga, Mellen Critical Editions and Translations 6, 2 vols (Lewiston: Edwin Mellen Press, 2001), 1:15 (no. XXIX), and of the second in Elliott Van Kirk Dobbie, ed., The Anglo-Saxon Minor Poems, Anglo-Saxon Poetic Records 6 (New York: Columbia University Press, 1942), 116– 18. 143. British Library, Royal MS 12 D xvii, fols. 51v– 52r, 52r, 52r– v, 52v, 53r, 53v, and 58r–v. The remedy in Leechbook II is on fol. 107v. 144. British Library, Royal MS 12 D xvii, fols. 120r, 120r–v, 123r– v, 123v, 124r– v, 125v, 126v, and 126v– 27r. British Library, Harley MS 585, fols. 134r– v, 137r– 38r, 157v– 58r, 171r, and 178r. 145. British Library, Cotton MS Vitellius E xviii, fol. 15v.

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century manuscript British Library, Cotton MS Caligula A vii in the first half of the eleventh century. Another liturgical remedy, also copied in the first half of the eleventh century and used for the preservation of health, is found in British Library, Cotton MS Galba A xiv.146 Notably, the uses of liturgical charms in these nonmedical manuscripts differ from the uses proposed in the medical collections. What is striking about the liturgical remedies in each of the medical manuscripts is that they treat similar types of illness: those with poten­ tially supernatural causes. Five explicitly claim to treat diseases associated with elves (“ælfe”), representing half of all the treatments for elf­disease in English manuscripts before ca. 1100.147 Liturgical remedies are also used to treat “ofscoten” horses.148 This has often been interpreted to mean “elf­shot” horses, although Alaric Hall has argued persuasively that the intervention of elves should not be assumed.149 The evidence for pre­ Conquest ideas about elves is limited and comes almost exclusively from Christian sources. As Karen Louise Jolly explains, elves were thought to be invisible creatures that could inflict disease by shooting their victims, whether animal or human, with arrows (elf­shot).150 She argues that they were at first seen as morally ambivalent creatures but were gradually de­ monized as they were absorbed into the Christian worldview, so that the harm they inflicted was seen as deliberate.151 More recently, Richard Firth Green has suggested that in the eleventh century, the church denied the reality of elves and fairies, with theological writing only later assimilating them with devils.152 Emily Kesling, meanwhile, has noted that the same 146. The same recipe is found in Leechbook II, in British Library, Royal MS 12 D xvii, fol. 107v. 147. Lacnunga contains one example, against elvish influence (“ælf siden,” British Library, Harley MS 585, fol. 137r–v). In Leechbook III (British Library, Royal MS 12 D xvii) there are four instances: one on fol. 120r– v against the temptations of the fiend, the influence of elves (“ælf siden”), and spring sickness (“lenctenadle”); one on fol. 123r–v against elves and night-goers (“ælfcynna” and “nihtgengan”); and two against elf-disease (“ælfadle”) on fols. 123v and 124r–v. For more on treatments for elf-disease, see Emily Kesling, “Elves, the Demonic, and Leechbook III,” in Medical Texts in AngloSaxon Literary Culture (Cambridge: D. S. Brewer, 2020), 60– 74. 148. British Library, Harley MS 585, fol. 171r, and Royal MS 12 D xvii, fol. 58r– v. 149. Alaric Hall, “Calling the Shots: The Old English Remedy ‘Gif Hors Ofscoten Sie’ and Anglo-Saxon ‘Elf-Shot,’” Neuphilologische Mitteilungen 106, no. 2 (2005): 197– 201. 150. Karen Louise Jolly, Popular Religion in Late Saxon England: Elf Charms in Context (Chapel Hill: University of North Carolina Press, 1996), 134. 151. Jolly, Popular Religion, 136. 152. Richard Firth Green, Elf Queens and Holy Friars: Fairy Beliefs and the Medieval Church (Philadelphia: University of Philadelphia Press, 2016), 15.

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herbal medical treatments were seen as effective against both elves and the devil.153 The association between elves and demons in this period, in medicine and in the popular imagination if not consistently in scholarly thought, may explain why the Mass was seen as a particularly effective protection against the injuries elves caused. Aside from treating diseases linked to elves, six liturgical remedies promise to protect their users from the temptations of the devil or from diseases thought— or once thought— to be caused by fiends (“feondas”) and devils (“deoflu”).154 Five treat some form of insanity.155 Biblical prec­ edents linked madness, especially violent madness, with demonic posses­ sion, an explanation that still held sway in pre­Conquest England.156 The depictions of Christ and his apostles casting out demons may have influ­ enced the liturgical character of these charms. For example, one remedy in Bald’s Leechbook I claims that a fiend­sick person (“feondseoc mann”) will be cured if he drinks a mixture of herbs and holy water, over which seven masses have been said, from a church bell.157 Several of the remedies that treat insanity or illnesses caused by elves or demons treat more than one of those conditions, further reinforcing the possibility that these diseases were seen as overlapping or having related causes. While there are some liturgical remedies for diseases that were not obviously seen as supernat­ urally caused, such as “lencten adle” (spring sickness) or the still­debated disease “þeor,” their primary use seems to be to counteract the malicious actions of supernatural beings.158 153. Kesling, Medical Texts, 76. 154. In Lacnunga (British Library, Harley MS 585), one recipe on fols. 137r– 38r is used to treat the temptations of the devil as well as elvish influence. In British Library, Royal MS 12 D xvii, in Leechbook III, recipes against temptations of the fiend appear on fols. 120r and 120r– v, and against devils and insanity on 125v. Leechbook I contains a remedy for fiend-sick men (fols. 51v– 52r), while Leechbook II contains one against temptations of the fiend (107v). 155. British Library, Royal MS 12 D xvii. Leechbook I, fols. 51v– 52r, for madness or a fiend-sick person, fols. 52r and 52r–v. Leechbook III, fol. 125v, which can also be used against devils, and fols. 126v– 27r. 156. Claire Trenery and Peregrine Horden, “Madness in the Middle Ages,” in The Routledge History of Madness and Mental Health, ed. Greg Eghigian (Abingdon: Routledge, 2017), 68. Biblical accounts of demons causing madness appear, for example, in Mark 5:1– 20 and Matthew 17:14– 18. Those who do not believe Christ’s words say that he is insane due to demonic possession: see John 10:19– 21. 157. British Library, Royal MS 12 D xvii, fols. 51v– 52r. 158. M. L. Cameron, “On Þeor and Þeoradl,” Anglia 106 (1988): 129, suggests that the term might refer to dryness or roughness of the skin or internal tissues. Earlier scholars have suggested a variety of other possibilities.

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The liturgical remedies’ focus on mental illness and diseases with su­ pernatural causes is starkly different to the goals of other verbal remedies. Of the 21 liturgical remedies in medical manuscripts, 14— or two thirds— were used to treat mental illness or diseases thought to be caused by elves or demons. By contrast, just 5 out of the 41 written charms that do not include a mass and a mere 8 out of the 127 spoken charms from before 1100 were intended for these purposes.159 As nonliturgical charms frequently make use of Christian words including prayers, litanies, the Creed, and excerpts from hymns, the strong association between liturgical remedies and supernatural diseases seems to stem not from the words they use or from their Christian context but from the specific ritual of the Mass. Spoken charms that do not rely on a full mass claim to offer a wide range of protections and treatments, from ensuring victory to curing head­ ache and from healing lung disease in cattle to providing protection during travel. Their most common use is for general protection, often from storms and other bad weather, with sixteen examples surviving.160 The powerful words of these protective charms were usually to be spoken over another substance, whether an herb that could then be carried as an amulet or water that could then be drunk. Other common uses of spoken charms include the treatment of eye pain, with thirteen examples; fever, with eight; and snakebite, with seven.161 This pattern is partly due to the fact that charms for protection and to treat eye pain, fever, and snakebite ap­ 159. British Library, Royal MSS 2 A xx, fol. 45v; 12 D xvii, Leechbook I, fol. 52v, Leechbook II, fols. 106r, 107v, Leechbook III, fols. 123v– 24r, 124v– 25r, 125r– v, 125v– 26r; Harley MS 585, Lacnunga, fols. 96r– 97r, 146v– 50v; Cotton MS Vitellius C iii, fol. 72v; Cambridge, Corpus Christi College, MS 41, p. 272; and Bodleian Library, MS Hatton 76, fol. 122r. One further charm, in British Library, Harley MS 585, Lacnunga, fols. 137r– 38r, uses performance of the Christian Mass in combination with written and spoken elements. 160. These are found in Cambridge University Library, MS Ll.1.10, fols. 43r– 44v; and Cambridge, Corpus Christi College, MS 41, pp. 350– 53; British Library, Cotton MSS Caligula A xv, fol. 140r; Vitellius C iii, fols. 68v and 75r; and Vitellus E xviii, fols. 15v– 16r; Harley MSS 585, fols. 93v– 94r, 102r– v, 152r– 56v, and 191r– v; and 2965, fols. 38r– 40v; and Royal MS 2 A xx, fol. 45v; Bodleian Library, MS Bodley 130, fol. 85r; and MS Hatton 76, fols. 121r and 124v; and in the now-lost Herrnstein near Siegburg, Bibliothek der Grafen Nesselrode MS 192, fol. 16r. 161. These are, for eye pain: Cambridge, Corpus Christi College, MS 41, p. 326; British Library, Cotton MS Vitellius C iii, fols. 28r and 29v; and Harley MSS 585, fols. 23r– v, 26v, and 181r– v; and 2965, fol. 40v; and Bodleian Library, MS Ashmole 1431, fols. 10v and 11v; MS Bodley 130, fols. 43r and 44r; and MS Hatton 76, fols. 82r and 83v. For fever: British Library, Cotton MSS Caligula A xv, fol. 129r, and Faustina A x, fol. 116r; Harley MS 585, fol. 167r–v; Royal MS 12 D xvii, fol. 53r (two examples);

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pear in the Herbarium, which survives in multiple copies. The popularity of this collection in pre­Conquest England therefore contributes to the apparent popularity of these particular charms. Another common use of spoken charms, with seven examples surviving, was to recover stolen live­ stock.162 Although written words could be used to treat many conditions, their use was more focused than that of spoken remedies. Forty­three charms copied before 1100 specifically require the use of written text, amounting to just under 25 percent of the surviving charms.163 About a quarter of these also require words to be spoken or masses to be said.164 Whereas the most frequently occurring purpose of spoken charms— general protection— accounts for just over 11 percent of the surviving examples, the most common use for written charms— the treatment of fever— by contrast accounts for more than 20 percent of what survives.165 Defense Bodleian Library, MS Bodley 130, fols. 71r and 72r; and the now-lost Herrnstein near Siegburg, Bibliothek der Grafen Nesselrode MS 192, between fols. 16r and 20v. For snakebite: British Library, Cotton MS Vitellius C iii, fol. 47v; Harley MS 585; fol. 13v– 14r; and Royal MS 12 D xvii, fols. 42v–43r and 43r; and Bodleian Library, MS Ashmole 1431, fol. 24r; MS Bodley 130, fol. 28v; and MS Hatton 76, fol. 100r. There are further examples of charms that use spoken words for protection and against fever in conjunction with written words, but I have omitted these from my totals. Examples can be found in British Library, Cotton MS Vitellius E xviii, fols. 15v– 16r (protection of grain against rats and mice); Worcester Cathedral Library, MS Q.5, on a blank flyleaf at the end of the manuscript (fever); and British Library, Harley MS 585, fol. 167r–v (fever). 162. Cambridge, Corpus Christi College, MSS 41, p. 206 (three examples); 190, p. 130; and 383, fol. 59r; and British Library, Cotton MS Tiberius A iii, fol. 106r; and Harley MS 585, fol. 178r–v. 163. Written remedies appear in Lacnunga (British Library, Harley MS 585); Leechbooks I, II, and III (British Library, Royal MS 12 D xvii); British Library, Cotton MSS Caligula A vii and A xv, Faustina A x, Galba A xiv, and Vitellius E xviii; Royal MS 2 A xx and Sloane MS 475; Bodleian Library, MS Auct. F.3.6, MS Barlow 35, and MS Junius 85; Vatican, Biblioteca Apostolica Reg. Lat. 338; and Worcester Cathedral Library, MS Q.5. 164. British Library, Cotton MSS Caligula A vii, fols. 176r– 78r, and Vitellius E xviii, fols. 15v– 16r; Harley MS 585, fols. 137r– 38v, 146v– 50v, 167r– v; Royal MS 12 D xvii, fols. 51r–v and 124v– 25r; Bodleian Library, MS Junius 85, fol. 17v; Worcester Cathedral Library, MS Q.5, “on a blank leaf at the end.” For Worcester Cathedral Library, MS Q.5, see A. Napier, “Altenglische Miscellen,” Archiv für das Studium der Neueren Sprachen 83, no. 4 (1890): 323– 27. 165. Nine of the written charms treat fever: British Library, Cotton MS Faustina A x, fol. 116r; Harley MS 585, fols. 165r (two examples) and 167r– v; Royal MS 12 D xvii, fols. 51r and 53r; Bodleian Library, MS Auct F.3.6, fol. ii r; Vatican, Biblioteca Apostolica Reg. Lat. 338, fol. 90r; and Worcester Cathedral Library, MS Q.5, “on a blank leaf at the end”: see Napier, “Altenglische Miscellen.”

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against elves and demons is also a relatively important function of written charms, with six recipes, as is the prevention of bleeding, with five.166 From this brief survey, it is clear that efficacious words that were acti­ vated through writing, speaking, and liturgical performance functioned in related but not identical ways. Charms that use the full Mass seem to be more clearly separated in purpose from charms using spoken and written words than spoken and written charms are from one another, even though the range of conditions that can be treated with spoken words is much greater. However, the patterns of use differ depending on the type of manuscript under consideration. In the three main Old English medical codices— Lacnunga, Bald’s Leechbook, and Leechbook III— written words are overwhelmingly used to treat supernatural conditions or fevers.167 A wider application of written texts is found in books that show Conti­ nental influence or that are not primarily medical, such as manuscripts of computus, of sermons, and of prayers. In those cases where individual users have copied charms onto the flyleaves or margins of manuscripts, the recipes recorded may represent the particular interests of literate non­ specialists. Medical recipe collections, presumably written for medical practi­ tioners, show less interest in the power of the written word than is seen in the charms found in primarily nonmedical books. Among the three Old English medical codices and the surviving copies of the Herbarium, written remedies make up about 10 percent of the total number of rem­ edies using efficacious words. Among the nonmedical manuscripts, by contrast, a third of the verbal remedies make use of writing. The com­ mon occurrence of text­based remedies in nonmedical contexts perhaps 166. Against elves or demons, see British Library, Royal MSS 2 A xx, fol. 45v, and 12 D xvii, fols. 52v, 106r, and 124v–25r (also using spoken words), and Harley MS 585, fols. 137r– 38r (also using the words of the Mass) and 146v– 50v (also using spoken words). Against bleeding, see British Library, Royal MSS 2 A xx, fol. 49v, and 12 D xvii, fol. 20r–v; Bodleian Library, MS Auct F.3.6, fol. iii v, and MS Barlow 35, fol. 54v; and Vatican, Biblioteca Apostolica Reg. Lat. 338, fol. 111r. 167. The treatment of supernatural conditions or fevers accounts for ten of the thirteen examples. In Lacnunga (British Library, Harley MS 585) there are remedies for elvish influence and the temptations of the devil (fols. 137r– 38v), a holy salve against the devil (fols. 146v– 50v), and three for fever (two on fol. 165r and one on fol. 167r– v). In Leechbook I (British Library, Royal MS 12 D xvii) there are two remedies for fever (fols. 51r and 53r) and one against elvish magic or runes (fol. 52v). Leechbook II contains a remedy for an “ofscoten” horse on fol. 106r that mentions the possibility that the condition might be caused by an elf, while in Leechbook III there is a remedy for “elf-hiccup” (“ælfsogoða”) and the temptations of the devil (fols. 124v– 25r).

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implies a more literate set of practitioners. Users who added remedies to their existing books clearly had the ability to write and would therefore have been able to make use of the text­based remedies they recorded. Al­ ternatively, spoken charms may have been so well known that users who were not specifically interested in collecting medical information felt no need to write them down. It is also possible that the smaller proportion of written charms among the verbal remedies in the leechbooks stems from one compiler’s concern about the use of efficacious text for medical treatment. Only one of the fifteen remedies requiring the use of words in Leechbook III prescribes written words in addition to sung or spoken ones. The use of spoken words in this treatment is similar to several others in the remedy book. In the final sentences of the recipe, however, the author reveals some unease about the use of efficacious text. The remedy is for “elf­hiccup” and is also said to be a powerful remedy against the temptations of the devil (box 2.6).168 First the remedy gives a text to be written out, which reads: “Scriptum est rex regum et dominus dominantium. byrnice. beronice. lurlure iehe. aius. aius. aius. Sanctus. Sanctus. Sanctus. Dominus deus Sabooth. amen. alleluiah” (It is written, king of kings and lord of lords. Byrnice, Beronice, lurlure iehe aius, aius, aius. Holy, holy, holy, Lord God of hosts. Amen. Alleluiah).169 It then gives a sequence of prayers that should be sung over the writing. The written text, like the prayers that accompany it, is clearly theological. “Byrnice” is a form of the name Veronica, referring to the woman who touched the edge of Christ’s robe and was healed of bleeding.170 “Iehe” may be a corrupt form of the word Yahweh, while “aius” is a version of agios, the Greek word for “sacred.” Its triple repetition is drawn directly from the liturgy. This sequence—“agios, agios, agios, sanctus, sanctus, sanctus”— also appears quite commonly in later written charms and in at least one other pre­Conquest example.171 The recipe writer’s doubt creeps in only toward the end of the recipe. He instructs his reader to wet the text they have written in a drink made 168. “Ælfsogoða.” Leechbook III, British Library, Royal MS 12 D xvii, fols. 124v– 25r. 169. Leechbook III, British Library, Royal MS 12 D xvii, fol. 124v. 170. Mark 5:24– 34, Luke 8:42– 48, and Matthew 9:19– 22. The story is discussed in more detail in chapter 1. 171. See, for example, the thirteenth-century example in Bodleian Library, MS Auct F.5.31, fol. 64v; the fourteenth-century examples in Cambridge, Corpus Christi College, MS 388, fol. 9r, and British Library, Sloane MS 1314, fol. 14r– v; and the fifteenthcentury examples in British Library, Additional MS 33996, fol. 90r, Wellcome Library, MS 542, fol. 6r, and Bodleian Library, MS Wood empt. 18, fol. 1r. The pre-Conquest remedy is found in Bald’s Leechbook I, British Library, Royal MS 12 D xvii, fol. 51r.

Box 2.6 A Charm for “Elf-Hiccup” British LiBrary, royaL Ms 12 d Xvii (Leechbook III), foLs. 124v– 25r (ca. 950– 1000) Gif him biþ ælfsogoþa him beoþ þa eagan geolwe þær hi reade beon sceoldon. gif þu þone mon lacnian wille þænc his gebæra ⁊ wite hwilces hades he sie. gif hit biþ wæpned man ⁊ locað up þonne þu hine ærest sceawast ⁊ se ondwlita biþ geolwe blac. þone mon þu meaht gelacnian æltæwlice gif he ne biþ þær on to lange. gif hit biþ wif ⁊ locað niþer þonne þu hit ærest sceawast. ⁊ hire ondwlita biþ reade wan þat þu miht eac gelacnian. gif hit bið dægþerne leng on þonne .xii. monaþ ⁊ sio onsyn biþ þyslicu þonne meaht þu hine gebetan to hwile. ⁊ ne meaht hwæþere æltæwlice gelacnian. Writ þis gewrit. Scriptum est rex regum et dominus dominantium. byrnice. beronice. lurlure. iehe. aius. aius. aius. Sanctus. Sanctus. Sanctus. Dominus deus Sabooth. amen. alleluia. Sing þis ofer þam drence ⁊ þam gewrite. Deus omnipotens pater domini nostri ihesu christi. per Inpositionem huius scriptura expelle a famulo tuo. N. Omnem Impetuum castalidum. de capite. de capillis. de cerebro. de fronte. de lingua. de sublingua. de guttore. de faucibus. de dentibus. de oculis. de naribus. de auribus. de manibus. de collo. de brachiis. de corde. de anima. de genibus. de coxis. de pedibus. de conpaginibus omnium membrorum intus et foris. amen. Wyrc þonne drenc font wæter. rudan. Saluian. cassuc. draconzan. þa smeþan wegbrædan niþewearde fefer fugian. diles crop. garleaces .iii. clufe. finul. wermod. lufestice. elehtre. ealra emfela. Writ .iii. crucem mid oleum infirmorum ⁊ cweð. pax tibi. Nim þonne þæt gewrit writ crucem mid ofer þam drince ⁊ sing þis þær ofer. Deus omnipotens pater domini nostri ihesu christi per Inpositionem huius scriptura et per gustum huius expelle diabolum a famulo tuo. N. ⁊ credo ⁊ pater noster. wæt þæt gewrit on þam drence. ⁊ writ crucem mid him on ælcum lime ⁊ cweð signum crucis christi conserua te In uitam eternam amen. gif þe ne lyste hat hine selfne oþþe swa gesubne swa he gesibbost hæbbe ⁊ senige swa he selost cunne. þes cræft mæg wiþ ælcre feondes costunge. If someone has “elf-hiccup,” his eyes are yellow where they should be red. If you want to cure the person, consider his bearing and know

Box 2.6 (continued ) what sex he is. If it is a man and he looks up when you first observe him, and his face is yellowish pale, you may cure that man completely if he hasn’t been ill too long. If it is a woman and she looks down when you first observe her, and her face is dusky red, you might cure her also. If it has been a day over twelve months and the face is like this, then you might make him better for a while but not completely cure it. Write this writing: “It is written, king of kings and lord of lords. Byrnice, Byrnice, lurlure iehe aius, aius, aius. Holy, holy, holy, Lord God of hosts. Amen. Alleluiah.” Sing this over the drink and the writing: “Almighty God, father of our Lord Jesus Christ, through the imposition of this writing expel from your servant [name] all attacks by elves on the head, hair, brain, forehead, tongue, under the tongue, throat, gullet, teeth, eyes, nose, ears, hands, neck, arms, heart, soul, knees, hips, feet; on the joints of all the parts of the body, both inside and out. Amen.” Make a drink of font water, rue, sage, sedge, dragonwort, the stalk of smooth plantain, feverfew, a bunch of dill, three cloves of garlic, fennel, wormwood, lovage, lupin— all equal amounts. Write the cross three times with oil of the sick and say: “Peace be with you.” Then take the writing, make a cross with it over the drink and sing this over it: “Almighty God, father of our Lord Jesus Christ, through the imposition of this writing and through this drink expel the devil from your servant [name],” and the Creed and the Pater Noster. Wet the writing in the drink and make the sign of the cross with it on each limb and say: “The sign of the cross of Christ preserve you unto eternal life. Amen.” If you don’t wish to do this, tell him to do it himself, or the closest relative he has, and sign as best he can. This craft is powerful against all temptations of the fiend.

The Castalides were the Muses of the sacred spring at Parnassus. However, the “impetus castalidum” referred to here seems likely to refer to elves: see Susan Závoti, “Blame it on the Elves: Perception of Illness in Anglo-Saxon England,” in Medieval and Early Modern Literature, Science, and Medicine, ed. Rachel Falconer and Denis Renevey, SPELL: Swiss Papers in English Language and Literature 28 (Tübingen: Narr Verlag, 2013), 75.

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with holy water and various herbs, then use it to make the sign of the cross on each of the patient’s limbs while saying “signum crucis Christi conserva te In vitam eternam. amen” (the sign of the cross of Christ preserve you in eternal life. Amen).172 As soon as he has explained the procedure, the author comments that “gif þe ne lyste hat hine selfne oþþe swa gesubne swa he gesibbost hæbbe ⁊ senige swa he selost cunne” (if you don’t like to do this, tell him to do it himself, or the closest relative he has, and sign as best he can).173 The sign of the cross is used for medical purposes at least four other times in Leechbook III, in a series of consecutive remedies ending in the one for “elf­hiccup.”174 One, for “elf­disease” (ælfadle), even recommends the same placement of the crosses: the practitioner should dip plants into holy water, have three masses sung over them, and place them on embers to smoke the patient while singing prayers and making the sign of the cross on each of the patient’s limbs.175 It is likely to be the use of text in the “elf­hiccup” remedy, then, that causes the author’s con­ cern. No other remedy in Leechbook III or in the other leechbooks suggests the possibility of reluctance on the part of the practitioner. It is clear that using written text to cross the patient’s limbs in the “elf­ hiccup” remedy was considered necessary for it to be effective. The remedy gives no instructions for avoiding the use of text entirely: if the medical practitioner will not make crosses with the writing, someone else must do so, even if they are made poorly. The point is also made clear within the charm itself, since the prayer that must be said over the liquid and the text states that the remedy will function “per Inpositionem huius scrip­ tura” (through the imposition of this writing).176 It is possible that this remedy records a moment of genuine dispute about the legitimacy or illegitimacy of the use of text in pre­Conquest medicine. It would seem 172. Leechbook III, British Library, Royal MS 12 D xvii, fol. 125r. 173. Leechbook III, British Library, Royal MS 12 D xvii, fol. 125r. See Barbara M. Olds, “The Anglo- Saxon Leechbook III: A Critical Edition and Translation” (PhD diss., University of Denver, 1984), 146–48. Ciaran Arthur, “Charms,” Liturgies, and Secret Rites, 106, translates this as “if you don’t know what to do.” This removes the possibility that practitioners might be reluctant to perform a ritual Arthur interprets as liturgical. However, neither An Anglo-Saxon Dictionary, ed. Joseph Bosworth and T. Northcote Toller (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1898), nor An Anglo-Saxon Dictionary: Supplement, ed. T. Northcote Toller (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1921) lists any such meaning for “lystan.” At the time of writing, Toronto’s Dictionary of Old English has not yet released entries for words beginning with l. 174. Leechbook III, British Library, Royal MS 12 D xvii, fols. 123r– v, 123v, 123v– 24r, 124r–v. 175. Leechbook III, British Library, Royal MS 12 D xvii, fol. 123v. 176. Leechbook III, British Library, Royal MS 12 D xvii, fol. 125r.

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strange for the practitioner to ask the patient or the patient’s relative to perform an action he knew to be truly unacceptable, perhaps suggesting that the use of text in this remedy was a matter of conscience. Evidently, however, the practice was not considered concerning enough to warrant removal from the collection.

Conclusion The surviving record of charms from the pre­ and immediately post­ Conquest period demonstrates that different forms of words exercised different kinds of power: that in deciding whether to write or to speak a series of words, one could change the effect they had on the physical world. The words with the widest application of all were spoken words, followed by written ones. The liturgical words of the Mass, whose power was derived from the Christian ceremony that surrounded them, had the narrowest sphere of application. They were largely used to treat mental illness and diseases caused by elves or demons. The wider application of spoken words perhaps reflects the level of specialization required to perform each kind of charm: while a spoken charm could be performed by anyone who knew its words, only someone with enough scribal skill to copy a text could perform a written charm, and a liturgical remedy re­ quired the presence and cooperation of a priest. No matter who performed the charms, however, it is clear that the medium through which the patient interacted with the verbal remedy played a vital role in determining its perceived power. With the Norman Conquest in 1066, however, charm practices in En­ gland changed dramatically and permanently. Many of the charms that had circulated in pre­Conquest England disappeared from the written record completely, and new techniques for exploiting the properties of textual charms emerged. As we shall see in the following chapter, beliefs about the powers and applications of spoken and written words were flexible, responding rapidly to cultural and linguistic change.

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1100 to 1350: Charm Language and the Boundaries of Text Scholars have traditionally identified the years from 1100 to 1350 as the “Anglo­Norman period.” The picture this implies, of elite French speakers dominating the political, economic, and cultural landscape of England, has recently been challenged. Turning away from the customary assump­ tion that the Norman Conquest of 1066 created a deep break between pre­ and post­Conquest culture, scholars of both literature and history now emphasize the vibrant multilingual nature of post­Conquest England and draw attention to the long survival of written English.1 Regarding verbal charms, however, a cultural break remains. The evidence of protective and healing charms, both written and spoken, demonstrates that the Norman Conquest coincided with a sudden and rapid shift in the perception of charms, in the status of the English language, and in the power attributed to the written word. This chapter examines a period in which English medical practice was changing as physicians, especially after the mid­eleventh century, gained access to a wide variety of new medical texts in Latin from the “medical mainstream” on the Continent.2 It is also a period for which charms have 1. See, for example, Elizabeth M. Tyler, ed., Conceptualizing Multilingualism in England, c.800−c.1250, Studies in the Early Middle Ages 27 (Turnhout: Brepols, 2011); Mark Faulkner, “Rewriting English Literary History 1042– 1215,” Literature Compass 9, no. 4 (April 2012): 275– 91; Orietta Da Rold, “English Manuscripts 1060 to 1220 and the Making of a Re- Source,” Literature Compass 3, no. 4 ( June 2006): 757; Elaine Treharne, Living through Conquest: The Politics of Early English, 1020– 1220, Oxford Textual Perspectives (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2012). 2. M. L. Cameron concludes that the following texts, at least, were known in preConquest England: Oribasius, the Synopsis and Euporistes in the “new” translation; Vindicianus, Epistula ad Pentadium Nepotem and Epitome Altera; Theodorum Priscianus and pseudo-Theodore; pseudo-Apuleius, the Herbarium com-

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received little attention from scholars. Catherine Rider has examined the church’s attitude toward charms in the thirteenth and fourteenth centu­ ries, arguing that for many clergymen in this period, charms were not considered to be “magical”— although the exact definition of magic still remained ambiguous.3 Tony Hunt, meanwhile, includes a useful survey of recipes and charms ranging in date from the late eleventh to the fif­ teenth century in his Popular Medicine in Thirteenth-Century England.4 These studies, however, are exceptions to an apparent scholarly preference for pre­Conquest charms— particularly those in Old English— and for Middle English charms from the late fourteenth and fifteenth centuries. T. M. Smallwood has gone so far as to argue: “After the mid­twelfth cen­ tury there is, for the most part, a hiatus in the surviving record of charms in England. From a period of nearly a hundred and fifty years we have no more than a scattering of charm­copies in Latin and very few in Anglo­ Norman French.”5 Where Smallwood has found a hiatus, I have found a diverse and flourishing charm tradition. Although the paleographic dating of the manuscripts in question is rarely precise, at least 189 of the charm­copies on which this study is based appear to have been written during the period of Smallwood’s “hiatus,” from 1150 to 1300. A number of these appear in large collections, demonstrating that individual scribes had access to a wide variety of charms and were keen to record them. For plex; Marcellus, De Medicamentis; Cassius Felix, De Medicina; Alexander of Tralles, the Latin Alexander, containing the fragments of Philumenus and Philagrius of Epirus; Passionarius Galeni (Gariopontus); “Petrocellus”; and collections similar to those in [British Library] Sloane 475 and St Gallen [Stiftsbibliothek] 751, containing recipes and various short tracts and epistles. The Aurelius de acutis Passionibus and Esculapius de chronicis Passionibus may have been used too, but, because of the free borrowing from them by the Passionarius Galeni, it is difficult to be certain. See M. L. Cameron, “The Sources of Medical Knowledge in Anglo- Saxon England,” Anglo-Saxon England 11 (1982): 151. See also Debby Banham, “England Joins the Medical Mainstream: New Texts in Eleventh-Century Manuscripts,” in Anglo-Saxon England and the Continent, ed. Hans Sauer and Joanna Story, Essays in Anglo-Saxon Studies 3 (Tempe: Arizona Center for Medieval and Renaissance Studies, 2011), 341– 52. 3. Catherine Rider, “Medical Magic and the Church in Thirteenth-Century England,” Social History of Medicine 24, no. 1 (April 2011): 98. 4. Tony Hunt, Popular Medicine in Thirteenth-Century England: Introduction and Texts (Cambridge: D. S. Brewer, 1990), especially chapter 2, “Miscellaneous Receipts and Charms,” 64– 99. 5. T. M. Smallwood, “The Transmission of Charms in English, Medieval and Modern,” in Charms and Charming in Europe, ed. Jonathan Roper (New York: Palgrave Macmillan, 2004), 14– 15.

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example, one section of the British Library’s Sloane MS 431, a medical manuscript written in the late twelfth or early thirteenth century, contains thirty­seven separate copies of charms intended to treat conditions rang­ ing from snakebite to fever to rabies. The Bodleian Library’s MS Digby 86, a late thirteenth­century collection of practical and literary texts in three languages, contains many charms. It includes a recipe collection in which almost every remedy is a charm: despite now being incomplete, it stretches over six full folios (fols. 28r to 33v).6 In addition to being included in the main body of manuscripts such as these, charms were copied onto blank flyleaves and into margins, as with the four charms added to the last leaf of one medical miscellany in the twelfth century, or the thirteenth­ century charm for wounds added to the last leaf of a Bible.7 The practice of charming and the tradition of recording charms therefore appear to have continued consistently throughout the medieval period. But even if there was no break in the copying of charms, the character of the charms that were copied changed considerably, and the development of spoken and written charms diverged.

A Representative Example: Sloane MS 475 One manuscript, the British Library’s Sloane MS 475, offers fascinating insights into the innovative features of charms that became common over the course of the Anglo­Norman period. The manuscript was cop­ ied shortly after the Norman Conquest but shows little affinity with pre­ Conquest charms.8 Instead, it displays three features that connect it with later charm collections in England: it uses French, it makes specific claims about the efficacy of charms, and it records charms that rely on the power of nonalphabetic characters. 6. See Judith Tschann and M. B. Parkes, Facsimile of Oxford, Bodleian Library, MS Digby 86, EETS SS 16 (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1996). The charms are discussed in Marjorie Harrington, “Science, Medicine, Prognostication: MS Digby 86 as a Household Almanac,” in Interpreting MS Digby 86: A Trilingual Book from Thirteenth-Century Worcestershire, ed. Susanna Fein (Woodbridge, UK: York Medieval Press, 2019), 59– 62. 7. British Library, Royal MS 12 E xx, fol. 162v; British Library, Royal MS 1 A xvii, fol. 415r. 8. For a description of this manuscript, see Augusto Beccaria, I codici di medicina del periodo presalernitano: secoli IX, X e XI (Rome: Edizioni di Storia e Letteratura, 1956), 255– 59; R. M. Liuzza, Anglo-Saxon Prognostics: An Edition and Translation of Texts from London, British Library, MS Cotton Tiberius A.iii (Cambridge: D. S. Brewer, 2010), 16– 19.

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Sloane MS 475 consists of two parts, both containing medical texts and written in several related hands.9 Part 1, which begins imperfectly and runs from fol. 1 to fol. 124, dates from the first quarter of the twelfth cen­ tury. It contains a medical treatise in five books, a treatise on weights and measures, texts on prognostication, and numerous medical recipes and charms. It is possible that this part of the manuscript was not produced in England. There is disagreement between scholars, with some arguing that the scribe may have written on the Continent, even if the manuscript was owned in England. Augusto Beccaria, however, maintains that both parts of the manuscript have a British origin, while M. L. Cameron argues, on the basis of confusion between r and n, that even if Sloane MS 475 itself is not an English production, it was at least copied from an exemplar in Insular minuscule.10 Part 2 of Sloane MS 475, spanning folios 125 to 231, may date from slightly earlier than part 1. It was copied by an English scribe in the last quarter of the eleventh century or in the first quarter of the twelfth.11 However, it may also have a Continental connection: László Sándor Char­ donnens argues that because of the dissimilarity between the prognostic texts in Sloane MS 475 and in other English manuscripts of the period, a Continental origin is likely for either this section or its exemplar. This section of the manuscript contains medical and prognostic texts includ­ ing the Sphere of Pythagoras, a Latin translation of Galen’s Epistola de febribus, a treatise on urines, and the Somniale Danielis. Both sections of the manuscript are roughly written, with variations in the size of the hand and the ruling of the pages. The Latin of the manuscript is poor, with inconsistent spelling and word division. This has led R. M. Liuzza to sug­ gest that the compilation, small enough to be portable, was intended as a personal book.12 Several passages in the first section of the manuscript have been writ­ ten in a cipher that obscures the instructions for performing parts of cer­ tain recipes, including some of the charms. The presence of this cipher, which is unusually complex for its early date, suggests that the scribe was 9. Beccaria, I codici, 255. 10. Beccaria, I codici, 255– 59; Cameron, “Sources,” 144. Helmut Gneuss and Michael Lapidge, Anglo-Saxon Manuscripts: A Bibliographical Handlist of Manuscripts and Manuscript Fragments Written or Owned in England up to 1100, Toronto AngloSaxon Series (Toronto: University of Toronto Press, 2014) includes both part 1 and part 2. 11. László Sándor Chardonnens, Anglo-Saxon Prognostics, 900– 1100: Study and Texts (Leiden: Brill, 2007), 42– 45. 12. Liuzza, Anglo-Saxon Prognostics, 16.

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Fig. 3.1 British Library, Sloane MS 475, fol. 111v. Ciphered text. Photograph: © The British Library Board.

interested in the potential of text to both record and obscure meaning— a tension that is also a feature of several of the manuscript’s written charms. The scribe uses up to three forms of letter substitution in combination, producing a type of homophonic substitution cipher some three hun­ dred years before the earliest Western example noted by David Kahn.13 In the first step of the substitution, the scribe replaces each vowel with the consonant that follows it in the alphabet. The phrase “kn kllb dif,” for example, should be read as “in illa die” (on that day).14 The second letter substitution uses Greek letters in the place of their Roman counterparts, so that “Adkxρω te ρxxm per deuμ xkxxm” can be read as “Adiuro te ouum per deum uiuum” (I adjure you, egg, by the living God).15 Finally, a third layer of substitution replaces vowels with different numbers of dots, so that “tfcta c::ρNkc” reads “testa cornis” (the skull of a crow), while “⋮n⋮μ⋮c::c” reads “inimicos” (enemies) (fig. 3.1).16 The letter e can therefore be rep­ resented as a Roman e or as a Greek epsilon, as two dots or as the letter f. The letter p in the cipher, meanwhile, could represent a p, an o, or a Greek rho, signifying the letter r. Although certain key passages are written in

13. David Kahn, The Codebreakers: The Story of Secret Writing (New York: Macmillan, 1967), 107. 14. British Library, Sloane MS 475, fol. 111v. 15. British Library, Sloane MS 475, fol. 112r. 16. British Library, Sloane MS 475, fols. 112r and 111r.

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this exceptionally arcane manner, the bulk of each recipe is unciphered, as for example, here: Si uis ut infans possit intelligem uoces cornicum. habe testam de capite cornieis. ⁊ deinde quando infans. est. natus. antequam sugat ubera matris. vel alicuius femine. exprime mammillas eiusdem matris infantis. kNcxp. dicta tfcta c::ρNkc. & mitte ex testa lac kN ωc kNfaNTkc. & ita pasce eum tρkbus contkNxkc dkfbus absque alkωxkctx. Auduiui abbate de superiori scothia. cum magna adfirmatione quod postea quando creuerit infans possit discernere. omnis uoces cornicum & significantiam earum.17

Ciphered words in the original are represented below in bold: If you want a child to be able to understand the language of crows, take the skull from the head of a crow and then when the infant is born, before it sucks the breasts of its mother or any other woman, express the breasts of the same mother of the child into the above­mentioned crow skull and put milk from the skull into the mouth of the infant. And feed him in this manner for three consecutive days without other nourishment. I heard from an abbot from the Scottish Highlands with great certainty that afterward, when it grows up, the child will be able to distinguish all the calls of crows and their meanings.

The ciphered sections do little to obscure the ritual itself. Although it would not necessarily be possible to guess at every detail, many of the phrases could easily be supplied by context. The compiler may therefore have been less concerned with hiding the content of the text than with cre­ ating the impression of secrecy through unfamiliar writing. The compiler or scribe’s apparent interest in textuality may account for the manuscript’s relatively high proportion of written as opposed to spoken charms: half of the verbal charms in the manuscript include written elements.18 The preference for written charms and the triple cipher are not the only exceptional aspects of this manuscript. Three other features of its charms appear in no other surviving manuscripts owned in England before 1100. As mentioned above, these are the use of French or Anglo­French, 17. British Library, Sloane MS 475, fol. 112r– v. I have normalized word spacing. 18. Charms that include written elements occur on fols. 22v, 22v– 23r, 23r (three examples), 26r, 97r– v, 110v, 111r, 111v, 113v, 114r, 114v, 114v– 15r, 115r, 116r, 116v, 121r– v, 133v, 135v– 36r, 136v (two examples), 137r, 137r– v, 137v (two examples), and 137v– 38r.

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the use of nonalphabetic characters, and specific claims about the effi­ cacy of charms. All of these features become relatively common in later charms, and all shed light on changing attitudes toward charms, text, and language.

The Use of French The Norman Conquest brought many French speakers to England, and the period from 1100 to 1350 was one in which French was important. French was used alongside Latin as a language of administration. It was used as a legal language: the early twelfth­century Leis Willelme, for example, seems to have been composed in French and only later translated into Latin.19 French was also used for preaching and for transmitting religious texts, as the Anglo­French translation of the Psalms in the mid­twelfth­century Eadwine Psalter attests.20 With French circulating so widely in England, it is not surprising that it was also used as a language for recording medical recipes and charms. Sloane MS 475 is roughly contemporary with the earliest surviving medical recipes in Anglo­French.21 Anglo­French appears in only two of its recipes, both of which are spoken charms for the care of horses, which appear in part 1 of the manuscript (box 3.1).22 The second is separated from the first by two Latin recipes, one for headache and one giving in­ structions for making a poultice for the head. This second recipe shifts silently from Anglo­French to Latin partway through its incantation. In both examples, the rubric titles are in Latin, as are the instructions explain­ ing how the charm should be performed. Anglo­French appears only in the incantations: the part of the charm in which the words are expected to perform healing rather than explain it. The incantation, containing the efficacious words of a charm, is only one part of the structure of a standard charm recipe. Lea Olsan has divided charm structures into four basic components that parallel the formal com­ ponents of any medieval medical recipe: a heading that states the purpose of the charm, directions for the performance of the charm, the words 19. William Rothwell, “Language and Government in Medieval England,” Zeitschrift für französische Sprache und Literatur 93, no. 3 (1983): 262. 20. Ian Short, “Patrons and Polyglots: French Literature in Twelfth-Century England,” in Anglo-Norman Studies XIV: Proceedings of the Battle Conference 1991, ed. Marjorie Chibnall (Woodbridge, UK: Boydell, 1992), 232– 33. 21. Hunt, Popular Medicine, 64. 22. I refer here to the original text of the manuscript: other French texts, none of which are charms, were added in a fourteenth-century hand to fols. 209v– 10v.

Box 3 .1 French Charms from British Library, Sloane MS 475 Both of these charms are edited on p. 82 of Tony Hunt’s Popular Medicine in Thirteenth-Century England: Introduction and Texts. I have used Hunt’s normalized word spacing here rather than the erratic word spacing of the manuscript itself.

British LiBrary, sLoane Ms 475, foL. 109r– v (ca. 1100– 1125) AD SV[R]OS. CARMEN. In nomine patris. ⁊ filii. ⁊ spiritus sancti. Pone pollicem super ossa ⁊ dic. Si cist souros ci est venuz par dialbe inchantesun tollet len deus par sa magne resurectium. Si ueirement cum deus fut nez ⁊ el presepie fut mis. ⁊ retrouez. si ueirement seit cis cauals de cest souros liurez en icez [n]erues. Pater noster. Against tumors: a charm. In the name of the Father and the Son and the Holy Ghost, place your thumb above the bones and say: If this tumor here has come through the devil’s enchantments, may God remove it through his great resurrection. As truly as God was born and placed in the manger and resurrected, so truly may this horse be delivered from this tumor in these nerves. Pater Noster.

In the manuscript, the heading reads “AD SVPEROS. CARMEN.” I have assumed that this is an error for “Suros,” with a capital R being misread as the abbreviation for “per.” The word suros, as can be seen in the body of the charm, was used in medieval French veterinary medicine to refer to a calloused bone tumor in horses. I have also assumed that the final word in the body of the charm, which in the manuscript reads “uerues” (the second u replacing a cancelled m) is an error for “nerues.”

British LiBrary, sLoane Ms 475, foL. 109v (ca. 1100– 1125) AD CLAVDVM EQVVM. Pissun par mar nodat la destre ale sesloisat. esloisat. ⁊ resoldat si facet li pez de cest caual de cuius colore sit dic. pater noster.

Box 3 .1 (continued ) For a lame horse. A fish swims in the sea; its right fin dislocates itself, goes back into place, and heals; so may the foot of this horse, whatever color it might be. Say Pater Noster.

I am grateful to Karen Pratt and S. C. Kaplan for help with the translation of this text. This charm appears to be related to the tenth-century Old Saxon charm De hoc quod spurihalz dicunt, preserved in Vienna, Österreichische Nationalbibliothek, cod. 751, fol. 188v. The text, as transcribed in Eleonora Cianci, Incantesimi e benedizioni nalla letteratura tedesca medievale (IX-XIII sec.), Göppingen Arbeiten zur Germanistik 717 (Göppingen: Kümmerle Verlag, 2004), 70, reads: De hoc qvod spvrihalz dicvnt. Primvm pater noster. Visc flot aftar themo uuatare, uerbrustun sina uetherun. Tho gihelida ina use druhtin. The seluo druhtin, thie thena uisc gihelda, thie gihele that hers theru spurihelti. Amen. For the thing called “spurihalz.” First a Lord’s Prayer. A fish swam in the water, it broke its fins. Then Our Lord healed it. The same Lord who healed this fish, may He heal this horse of “spurihalz.” Amen.

Scholars identify “spurihalz” as a kind of lameness: see Gerhard Eis, “Zu dem altsächsichen Pferdesegen Visc flot aftar themo uuatare,” in Altdeutsche Zaubersprüche (Berlin: De Gruyter, 1964), 53– 57.

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of the incantation (or the words to be written down), and a concluding formula that may in some cases include further instructions for perfor­ mance.23 These components serve different purposes and are therefore subject to different linguistic pressures. Most obviously, the purpose of the heading, directions, and concluding formula is to instruct the manuscript’s reader and enable him or her to perform the charm correctly. The purpose of the incantation or the efficacious writing, by contrast, is to bring about the intended effect of the charm. The instructions must therefore commu­ nicate with and be understood by the reader, while the efficacious text or incantation need not necessarily be intended for a human audience. In­ stead, it might be directed toward a supernatural being such as an angel or a disease­causing entity. The instructions for performing the charm, as text that communicates directly with the reader, give information about the expected audience for the charm­texts. The incantations, by contrast, give information about the words and languages that people in England saw as being powerful enough to cure disease or provide protection from harm. More than 70 percent of the surviving charms in manuscripts from before 1100 give their instructions in English. After 1100, however, En­ glish becomes strikingly rare. Of the 380 charms I have recorded from the Anglo­Norman period, only 7 give all or part of their instructions or titles in English (box 3.2). Two of those are in Old English and date from the first quarter of the twelfth century. A third is in Latin with only the name of the disease, “gista adle,” in Old English.24 The meaning of the phrase remains unclear. Three more are from the first half of the four­ teenth century, perhaps forerunners of the vernacularization of scientific and medical texts that began a few decades later.25 From the 175 years be­ tween 1125 and 1300, just one charm giving instructions in English survives among my sample: a mid­thirteenth century charm for childbirth written onto a blank leaf of a handbook for parish priests.26 The charm, which is accompanied by a cross with the letters “AGLA” written in its corners, reads: 23. Lea T. Olsan, “The Inscription of Charms in Anglo-Saxon Manuscripts,” Oral Tradition 14, no. 2 (1999): 403. Olsan’s article focuses primarily on spoken charms in pre-Conquest manuscripts, but the framework applies equally well to written charms and to later examples. 24. Durham Cathedral Library, MS Hunter 100, fol. 112. 25. Linda Ehrsam Voigts, “What’s the Word? Bilingualism in Late-Medieval England,” Speculum 71, no. 4 (1996): 813. 26. Mary P. Richards, “A Middle English Prayer to Ease Childbirth,” Notes and Queries 27, no. 4 (August 1980): 292. I discuss this charm further in chapter 4.

Box 3 .2 Charms with English Instructions, ca. 1100– 1350 durhaM cathedraL LiBrary, Ms hunter 100, foL. 112v (ca. 1100– 1120) Contra gista.ii.. adle. Uade ad solsequiam ⁊ dic ad eam. In nomine patris. ⁊ filii. ⁊ spiritus sancti. iii. uicibus bene[di]cendo. ⁊ pater noster. Que .iii. dicta: Benedictio dei pater omnipotentis. ⁊ filii. ⁊ spiritus sancti iii. dicas. & illam aqua benedicta aspersam tolles. In nomine patris. dicendo. ⁊ da patienti. uere sudabit. Against “gista” disease: go to a calendula flower and say to it three times in succession “In the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit” as a blessing, and a Pater Noster. Having said it three times, say three times “The blessing of Almighty God the Father, and the Son, and the Holy Spirit,” and, having sprinkled it with holy water, pick it, saying “In the name of the Father,” and give it to the patient. He will indeed sweat.

The only trace of English in this early example is the name of the disease. While adle is the Old English word for “disease,” the meaning of gista is unclear. Debby Banham (pers. comm., May 11, 2020) suggests that it might be a variant of Old English gist (yeast), while Winston Black notes that gysta is a known variant of the Latin gutta (gout, but applied to diseases of other kinds). See Henry of Huntingdon, Anglicanus Ortus: A Verse Herbal of the Twelfth Century, ed. Winston Black (Toronto: Pontifical Institute of Mediaeval Studies and The Bodleian Library, 2012), 365n12.

oXford, st. John’s coLLege, Ms 17, foL. 175r (ca. 1105– 1115) Wid blod rine of nosu wriht on his forheafod on cristes mel Stomen metafofu .+.

Stomen

calcos .+.

Against nosebleeds write [this] on his forehead in a cross.

(continued)

Box 3 .2 (continued ) The formula is identified in Godfrid Storms, Anglo-Saxon Magic (Dordrecht: Springer Science+Business Media, 1948), no. 54, as a transcription of the Greek “στωμεν καλως στωμεν μετα φόβου” (Let us stand respectfully, let us stand in awe).

rochester cathedraL LiBrary, Ms a.3 .5 (textus roffensIs), foL. 95r (ca. 1115– 1124) Gif feoh sy undernumen. gif hit sy hors sing on his feotere. oððe on his bridels. Gif hit sy oðer feoh. sing on ðæt hofrec. ⁊ ontend ðreo candela. ⁊ dryp on ðæt ofrec. wæx ðriwa ne mæg hit ðe manna forhelan. Gif hit sy inorf sing on feower healfa ðæs huses. ⁊ æne on middan. Crux christi reducat. Crux christi per furtum periit inuenta est abraham tibi [semitas] uias montes concludat iob & flumina [Jacob te] ad iudicii ligatum perducat. Iudeas christi crist ahengan ðæt him com to wite. swa strangum. gedydon heom dæda þa wyrstan hy ðæt drofe forguldon hælon hit him to hearme myclum. ⁊ heo hit na forhelan ne mihton. If livestock has been stolen. If it is a horse, sing [this charm] over its fetters or on its bridle. If it is another animal, sing it on the footprints, and light three candles and drip the wax three times on the footprints. No one will be able to conceal it. If it is household goods, sing on the four sides of the house and once in the middle: “May the cross of Christ revive; the cross of Christ was lost through theft and was found. May Abraham close the paths, roads, and mountains to you and Job the rivers, and [Jacob] bring [you] bound to judgment. The Jews of Christ’s [time] hanged Christ; they were severely punished for that. They did the worst of deeds to him; they paid grievously for that. They kept it secret to their own great harm, and they were not able to hide it.”

Based on the sense and on comparison with other copies of this charm, I have replaced the manuscript reading “sanitas” with “semitas” and have added the words “Iacob te,” which appear in other manuscripts.

Box 3 .2 (continued ) BodLeian LiBrary, Ms raWLinson c 814, foL. 7r (ca. 1300– 1350) Seynt Lyoun þe pope wrot this letre to kyng charles and seide: Hee þat berith this letre abowte him. hee dar noȝt drede of his enemyes to be ouercome. ne he shal noȝt be falsly dampned. Ne with feondys be encombred. ne with wicked deth be take. ne with oute shrift deyȝe. ne in no nede misfare. ne in batayle be ouercome. ne in fyr be brend. ne in water be dreynt: and for sothe in this ys a name who so nempneth hit: þat day shal hee noȝt deyȝe. þogh hee weere hanged ⁊ þat ys preued. And ley the writ on a syk body ⁊ hee byleeue þeron þe syknesse shal a swage. And ȝif a womman be in trauail for child: ley þe writ upon hure wombe ⁊ she shal be delyuered soone. ⁊ þe child noȝt misfare by þe grace of god. Thes beth þe names of oure lord ihesu crist + messias + sother + emanuel + sabaoth + adonay + vnigenitus + sapientia + virtus + ego sum qui sum + via + manus + homo + vsivo + saluator + origo + vita + spes + caritas + orea + panton + craton + ysue + kyrus + alpha + ⁊ oo + gl[. . .]s + fons + maternus + pro dubitacione + plaga + othe + cethe + assias + mediator + thon + agnus + ouis + vitulus + Serpens + Aries + leo + vermis + primus + nouissimus + yer + pater + filius + spiritus sanctus + omnipotens + misericors + creator + eternus + redemptor + trinitas + vnitas + Ista nomina me .N. gubernent ⁊ defendant + Hinc mihi hoc scriptum portanti subueniant duodecim apostoli domini nostri ihesu christi. quorum nomina sunt hec. + Petrus + paulus + andreas + iohannes + philippus + Symon + taddeus + mathias + iacobus + bartholomeus + barnabas + thomas + marcus + matheus + lucas + iohannes + ⁊ me defendant ab omni malo periculo ⁊ ab omni tribulacione hic ⁊ infuturum. Amen. + kay. + Fay. + De. + Matay. + The naming portion of the charm, which includes words in Latin, Greek, and Hebrew, can be translated as follows: “+ Messiah + saviour + Emmanuel + [Lord of] hosts + Adonai + only-begotten + wisdom + power + I am who I am + the way + the hand + man + one substance + saviour + origin + life + hope + charity + orea + all + powerful + essence + master + alpha + and omega + glory + source + maternal + in place of doubt + wound + God + cethe + assias + intermediary + (continued)

Box 3 .2 (continued ) thon + lamb + sheep + calf + serpent + ram + lion + worm + first + last + spring + Father + Son + Holy Spirit + omnipotent + merciful + creator + eternal + redeemer + trinity + unity + May these names govern and defend me, [name] + Henceforth to me, carrying this writing, may the twelve apostles of our Lord Jesus Christ come in rescue, whose names are these: + Peter + Paul + Andrew + John + Philip + Simon + Thaddaeus + Matthew + James + Bartholomew + Barnabas + Thomas + Mark + Matthew + Luke + John + and may they defend me from all evil and danger and from all distress now and in the future. Amen. + Kay + Fay + De + Matay +

The last four words are below the last line of the body text, centered and boxed. I have read the manuscript’s “homo + vsivo” as a corruption of the Greek homousion, a term used in the Nicene Creed to signify that the Son is of one substance with the Father. As the manuscript understands homo as a separate word, I have translated homo as “man” and vsivo as “one substance,” although it is only part of the term. I have later translated ysue as “essence,” reading it as another version of the word usion. Where I have left an ellipsis the manuscript appears to read “glcns.” I have translated this as “glory” on the basis that it may be a misreading of gloria, which appears in similar lists of divine names. I have read othe as a corruption of otheos, meaning God. Italicized words are those for which I can find no translation and which may be scribal errors or corruptions.

caMBridge, corPus christi coLLege, Ms 388, foL. 35r (ca. 1320– 1330) Item pro febre terciana tac þre leues of weybrode after þe sunne be gon doun and sey þre pater noster. an tac þerof and temper it wit ale or wit water and gyf him to drincke be forn þe evele him tack.

caMBridge, corPus christi coLLege, Ms 388, foL. 35r (ca. 1320– 1330) Item ȝif you knowe queþer lyf or ded be in man in secnesse tac an henne ay þat be leyd þat iche day þat þe euele him tock first on. And wryt wit igke [sic] þese lettres on þe ay. g. f. p. x. g. q. and after le þe ey in sauf stede wit outen house al nyth and at morwen breck þat ay

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Box 3 .2 (continued ) on to and ȝif þer cume owit blode he schal deye and if þer is no singne of blod he schal ben hol þis is asayd

Three of the charms above were copied in the first quarter of the twelfth century, while three were copied in the first half of the fourteenth century. Only one charm that I am aware of uses English instructions in the period between these. That charm, from Bodleian Library, MS Ashmole 1280, fol. 192v, is discussed within the main text of this chapter.

Hail be þow holie crowche blesfolle. hail be þow holie crowche dereworþe aze wesleche aze owre lord ihesus crist his holie bodi fowchete sauf as he wolde and aze hem likede and seþene his holie bodi a down lyȝte aze þi swete wille was aze weislech ich þe crie merci iesu crist fader ant sone ant holi gost and on persone deleuere me of mine childe aze wes aze þi moder milde was deleuered of þe deleuere me iesu per charite. þe costes .iii. pater mostres [sic]. and. thre aue maries.27 May you be healthy, blessed holy cross. May you be healthy, precious holy cross, as certainly as our lord Jesus Christ gave his holy body, as he wanted and as it pleased him, and since his holy body descended as was your sweet will, as certainly I cry you mercy, Jesus Christ, Father and Son and Holy Ghost and one person, deliver me of my child as sure as your merciful mother was delivered of you. Deliver me, Jesus, by charity! The terms: three Pater Nosters and three Ave Marias.

The instructions are very brief, consisting only of the postincantation concluding formula that tells the reader to repeat three Pater Nosters and three Ave Marias. In this particular case, unusually for this period, the efficacious words were also recorded in English. Even more unusually, the charm is written in the first person, suggesting that it would have been recited by the woman in labor herself. Although English rapidly disappeared as a language for giving charm 27. Bodleian Library, MS Ashmole 1280, fol. 192v.

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instructions, French did not immediately take its place. While charm in­ cantations, as exemplified above, began to be recorded in French from the early twelfth century, no French charm instructions appear to survive in English manuscripts from before the thirteenth century. This may indicate that English charm users were quicker to accept incantations in French than they were to choose French as an instructional language needing to be understood, although the evidence is too slight to draw any firm con­ clusion. The earliest example of French charm instructions of which I am aware was probably copied in the very early part of the thirteenth century. It appears in Cambridge, Trinity College, MS B.15.36, written onto a blank page of a twelfth­century copy of St. Bernard’s De consideratione (box 3.3). From the mid­thirteenth century onward, however, the use of French in charm instructions increased dramatically, coming to rival Latin, at least in the manuscripts I have examined. Before 1100, then, charm instructions were primarily given in English. From that point until approximately the mid­thirteenth century, Latin was the almost exclusive language of charm instruction. After the mid­ thirteenth century, French was also common. Broadly speaking, and as one would expect, these trends in the languages used to record charms reflect patterns of changing language use in England as a whole.28 After the Conquest, English was largely replaced in legal, administrative, and literary spheres by Latin, not by French.29 The second half of the thir­ teenth century, corresponding with the point at which charm instructions begin to appear in French, saw an explosion in the use of French for both business and private purposes.30 By the late fourteenth century, however, French had largely fallen out of use as a language of ordinary communi­ cation.31 This may have been partly due to the disruption of education at the time of the Black Death, which affected the school system and 28. For a specific discussion of the translation of medical texts into Anglo-French, see Monica H. Green, “Salerno on the Thames: The Genesis of Anglo-Norman Medical Literature,” in Language and Culture in Medieval Britain: The French of England c.1100−c.1500, ed. Jocelyn Wogan-Browne et al. (Woodbridge, UK: Boydell for York Medieval Press, 2009), 220– 31. 29. Douglas A. Kibbee, For to Speke Frenche Trewely: The French Language in England, 1000– 1600: Its Status, Description and Instruction, Studies in the History of the Language Sciences (Amsterdam: John Benjamins, 1991), 7. 30. Richard Ingham, The Transmission of Anglo-Norman: Language History and Language Acquisition, Language Faculty and Beyond: Internal and External Variation in Linguistics (Amsterdam: John Benjamins, 2012), 27. 31. Ingham, Transmission, 30.

Box 3 .3 Charms with French Instructions caMBridge, trinity coLLege, Ms B.15.36, foL. 41r (ca. 1150– 1225) In nomine patris ⁊ filii ⁊ spiritus sancti. amen. veez ci la charme de seinte Susanne ke seint Gabriel lu porta de part nostre seinur pur charmer le cristiens de uerm ⁊ de festre. fetes chanter une messe del seint spirit. ⁊ fetes le malade oyr la messe. Apres la messe: dites ceste charme. sili defendez ke il ne deporte nule uiande. e pur ueirs de den le .ix. jur garra. ¶ a ausi verrement cum deu fu ⁊ est. ausi uerrement cum ceke il dist: ueir dist. ausi uerrement cum ce ke il fut ben fist. ausi uerrement cum de la seinte uirgine char prest. ausi uerrement cum sun digne cors quinque plaies soffri pur tuz pocheurs reindre. ausi uerrement cum en la seinte croiz se mist. ausi uerrement cum sun cors fu en la croiz estendu. ausi uerrement cum de ambedeus pars furent laruns penduz ausi uerrement cum sun destre coste fu de glaiue feru. ausi uerrement cum se pes furent afiches. ausi uerrement cum sun seint chef fu des spines corone. ausi uerrement cum el seint sepulcre sun cors reposa. ausi uerrement cum le ters jur de mort resuscita. ausi uerrement cum le portes de emfern brusa. ausi uerrement cum le deble lia. ausi uerrement cum le seons fors mena. ausi uerrement cum el cel munta. ausi uerrement cum al destre sun pere posa. ausi uerrement cum al jur de juise uendra chescun home de chare de age .xxx. anz releuera. ausi uerrement cum il tuz a sun pleisir iugera. ausi uerrement cum ueirs est ⁊ ueirs serra: ausi uerrement gariset cest home de gute de rancle. de uerm. Morte est la gute. mort est le rancle. mort est le uerm. mort est le farcin. mort est mort. seit. seit. De ki? N. Oil si deu plest. Pater noster al nun del pere. ⁊ del fiz. ⁊ del seint espirist. ke de cest cristien ceste charme enuerist. Dites ceste charme treis fez. vtre le malade. si li defendez ke il ne face medicine. E pur ueirs tut ust il mil pertus: de den le .ix. jurs garreit. Amen. In the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit, amen. See here the charm of St. Susanne, which St. Gabriel brought her from Our Lord to charm Christians from worm and fistula. Have a mass of the Holy Spirit sung, and make the patient listen to the Mass. After the Mass say this charm. If you advise him not to eat any meat then he will truly be healed within nine days. ¶ As truly as God was and is. (continued)

Box 3 .3 (continued ) As truly as the things he said were true sayings. As truly as what he did was well done. As truly as he took flesh from the holy virgin. As truly as his exalted body suffered five wounds to redeem all sinners. As truly as he placed himself on the holy cross. As truly as his body was stretched out on the cross. As truly as thieves were suspended on both sides. As truly as his right side was struck with a spear. As truly as his feet were fixed [i.e., to the cross]. As truly as his sacred head was crowned with thorns. As truly as his body lay in the holy sepulcher. As truly as he revived from death on the third day. As truly as he broke the gates of hell. As truly as he bound the devil. As truly as he led forth his people. As truly as he ascended into heaven. As truly as he was placed at the right side of his Father. As truly as he will come on the Day of Judgment [and] will raise every man in his body at the age of 30 years. As truly as he will judge everyone according to his will. As truly as he was true and will be true. As truly may this man heal from gout, from abscess, from worms. The gout is dead. The abscess is dead. The worm is dead. The farcy is dead. Death is dead. May it be. May it be. For whom? [Name] Yes, if it pleases God. [Say a] Pater Noster in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit, who established this charm as true for this Christian. Say this charm three times over the patient. If you advise him not to use medicine, then truly a thousand sores would leave him: he will be healed within the ninth day. Amen.

BodLeian LiBrary, Ms raWLinson c 814, foL. 61v (ca. 1300– 1350) ¶ Medicine encountre jaunice. ¶ Pernez vne pome si tranchez en quatre e ietez la quarte partye en ewe. ou la fetez manger a vne beste pus apres en la primere des autres treis escriuez. In nomine + patris + Ihesu + ⁊ filij + Nazareni. e en la secunde. e en la terce. spiritus sancti amen. ¶ Medicine against jaundice. ¶ Take an apple and cut it into four pieces and throw the fourth part into water or feed it to an animal. Then afterward write on the first of the other three parts “In the name + of the Father + Jesus + and of the Son + of Nazareth” and on the second. And on the third “The Holy Spirit” Amen.

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Box 3 .3 (continued ) British LiBrary, additionaL Ms 33996, foL. 150v (ca. 1425– 1500) [Pur] celi qui ne put dormir escriuez ses nouns en foyl de lorere e si metez de sus son choff queyl ne suche exmael iij adiuro per archangelum michaelem vt soporetur homo iste vel femina For someone who cannot sleep, write these names on a laurel leaf and put it under his head without him suspecting: “Exmael” three times. I adjure you by the Archangel Michael that this man or woman sleep.

killed many of the clergy.32 Evidence from the manuscripts that survive from this period reveals that, as French became less widely used in other contexts, it was also largely abandoned in charm instructions. From the mid­fourteenth century onward, charm instructions commonly appear in English, although Latin also remained important. The language of spoken incantations also changed. The words of in­ cantations were special because they were expected to produce a material result: they were believed to have the power to heal disease and provide protection from physical and spiritual dangers. It was therefore impor­ tant that the languages used for this portion of the charm be perceived as being capable of transmitting such power. As might be expected, some Latin incantations survived from pre­Conquest England into the Norman period and even beyond. For example, two versions of the Super Petram charm­type— in which a holy figure, often St. Peter, is said to be sitting on a stone— are found in pre­Conquest manuscripts.33 Similar charms also appear in later manuscripts from England, indicating that the charm continued in use.34 32. Ingham, Transmission, 35. 33. Bodleian Library, MS Junius 85, fol. 17v; and British Library, Harley MS 585 (Lacnunga), fol. 183r– v, and Cotton MS Vespasian D xx, fol. 93r. 34. For example, Bodleian Library, MS Digby 86, fol. 30r; British Library, Additional MSS 17866, fol. 39r, and 33996, fol. 112r, and Sloane MS 1314, fol. 15v; Wellcome Library, MS 542, fol. 6v; and Cambridge University Library, MS Additional 9308, fols. 25r– 26r and 65v– 66v.

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The situation is different for English as an efficacious language. Whereas in the pre­Conquest period, English was used as a language of power (either alone or in combination with Latin) in roughly 18 percent of the surviving verbal charms, this proportion plummeted to less than 2 percent in the Anglo­Norman period.35 Several of these instances appear to be survivals from pre­Conquest England. Two date from the first quarter of the twelfth century and are copies of charms that had circulated for many years: one is a charm for lost animals, while the other is a corrupt version of a charm against toothache using English and unknown words that also appears in the tenth­century medical collection Lacnunga.36 Another is a charm against a wen— a type of boil or cyst— that survives in late Old English in a single copy in a mid­twelfth­century hand.37 Others cluster toward the end of the period and show no connections with surviving charms from pre­Conquest England.38 Despite the sharp decrease in the use of English for the powerful words of charms, the proportion of charms using vernacular languages remained roughly steady. French, absent in the pre­Conquest period, was used for the powerful words of about 12 percent of the charms that survive from between 1100 and 1350, meaning that the total proportion of charms re­ corded in vernacular languages was similar.39 Most of the French examples date from after the mid­thirteenth century and also use French as their language of instruction. The near disappearance of English as a language for use in incantations is perhaps more surprising than its disappearance as a language for use in instructions, for which there might be an advantage 35. English does not appear as a language of power in text, as I discuss elsewhere. Considering spoken charms only, English appears in roughly 20 percent of incantations from before 1100 and in roughly 2.5 percent of incantations from between 1100 and 1350. 36. Rochester Cathedral Library, MS A.3.5 (Textus Roffensis), fol. 95r; British Library, Royal MS 12 E xx, fol. 162v. See also Lacnunga, British Library, Harley MS 585, fol. 135r– v. The connection between the charms is noted in Edward Pettit, ed., Anglo-Saxon Remedies, Charms, and Prayers from British Library MS Harley 585: The Lacnunga, Mellen Critical Editions and Translations 6 (Lewiston: Edwin Mellen Press, 2001), 2:20. 37. Elliott Van Kirk Dobbie, ed., The Anglo-Saxon Minor Poems, Anglo- Saxon Poetic Records 6 (New York: Columbia University Press, 1942), 128. 38. British Library, Royal MS 8 A x, fol. 111r carries two marginal notes (ca. 1300– 1350) that give the opening lines of charms in English. Cambridge, Corpus Christi College, MS 388, fol. 13r (ca. 1320– 1330) contains a charm in English against bleeding. 39. French almost never appears in the form of powerful text, as I discuss below. Considering spoken charms only, French appears in just under 17 percent of the examples I have collected.

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in using a “universal” language such as Latin. This abandonment of En­ glish implies a shift in the perception of that language: a shift that meant that English no longer had the necessary perceived power or status to do the work of the charm. Even if people continued to use English charms in moments of need, they preferred to record charms in other languages. However, while the English charms disappeared, one pre­Conquest charm in a vernacular language did survive into the later Middle Ages. This is the Tigath / Acre charm, the most commonly occurring of all pre­ Conquest charms. Its popularity in the manuscript record perhaps indi­ cates a level of social penetration that contributed to its long survival. It appears originally to have been written in Old Irish, although the language is so corrupt as to be untranslatable.40 Versions of the Tigath / Acre charm, or parts of it, occur four times in pre­Conquest manuscripts: once in Bald’s Leechbook I, in a recipe against flying venom, and three times in Lacnunga, twice used against black boils and once in a holy salve against the devil.41 Later copies were added to blank spaces in two manuscripts, one without specifying a purpose and one, now at Gonville and Caius College, Cam­ bridge, to treat felon or whitlow.42 A very similar text, previously unrec­ ognized, is included in the body of the late­twelfth or early­thirteenth­ century collection of recipes in British Library, Sloane MS 431 (box 3.4).43 The text of the charm in the Sloane manuscript is largely the same as that in the Gonville and Caius manuscript. Like that version, it uses the variant spelling “Thigat,” repeated twice, rather than three times, as in in some other versions. The two copies also uniquely share a final sentence in Latin, including an instruction to say three Pater Nosters. However, the copy in the Gonville and Caius manuscript omits the final sentence of the Irish section of the charm, which is included in the Sloane manu­ script. The similarity between the two copies suggests that the charm was common enough in oral circulation to remain consistent over a gap of many decades, even if written records of its use do not survive from the intervening time. If this charm continued to be widely used and recorded, it would seem that charm users did not object to vernacular language— assuming the language could still be recognized as Irish— or to charms 40. Howard Meroney, “Irish in the Old English Charms,” Speculum 20, no. 2 (April 1945): 174– 77. 41. British Library, Royal MS 12 D xvii, fol. 43r; British Library, Harley MS 585, fols. 136r, 147r, and 165r. See Leslie K. Arnovick, Written Reliquaries: The Resonance of Orality in Medieval English Texts (Amsterdam: John Benjamins, 2006), 55. 42. Bodleian Library, MS Bodley 163, fol. 227r and Cambridge, Gonville and Caius MS 379/599, fol. 49r. 43. British Library, Sloane MS 431, fol. 45r– v.

Box 3 .4 Variations of the Tigath/Acre Charm British LiBrary, royaL Ms 12 d Xvii (baLd’s Leechbook I), foL. 43r (ca. 900– 980) Wiþ fleogendum atre ⁊ ælcum æternum swile. on frigedæge aþwer buteran þe sie gemolcen of anes bleos nytne oððe hinde. ⁊ ne sie wiþ wætre gemenged. asing ofer nigon siþum letania. ⁊ nigon siþum pater noster. ⁊ nigon siþum þis gealdor. Acræ. ærcre. ærnem. nadre. ærcuna hel. ærnem. niþærn. ær. asan. buiþine. adcrice. ærnem. meodre. ærnem. æþern. ærnem. allum. honor. ucus. idar. adcert. cunolari. raticamo. helæ. icas christita. hæle. tobært. tera. fueli. cui. robater. plana. uili. þæt deah to ælcum ⁊ huru to deopum dolgum. Against flying poison and every poisonous swelling: on a Friday, churn butter which has been milked from a cow of a single color, or from a hind, and it must not be mixed with water. Sing the litany over it nine times, and the Pater Noster nine times, and this charm nine times: “Acræ. Ærcre. Ærnem. Nadre. Ærcuna hel. Ærnem. Niþærn. Ær. Asan. Buiþine. Adcrice. Ærnem. Meodre. Ærnem. Æþern. Ærnem. Allum. Honor. Ucus. Idar. Adcert. Cunolari. Raticamo. Helæ. Icas christita. Hæle. Tobært. Tera. Fueli. Cui. Robater. Plana. Uili.” That is good for every wound, and especially for deep ones.

British LiBrary, harLey Ms 585 (Lacnunga), foL. 136r– v (ca. 975– 1025) Sing ðis gebed on ða blacan blegene viiii. syþðan ærest pater. noster. tigað tigað tigað calicet. aclu cluel sedes adclocles. acre earcre arnem. nonabiuð ær ærnem niðren arcum cunað arcum arctua fligara uflen binchi cuterii. nicuparam raf afð egal uflen arta. arta. arta. trauncula. trauncula querite et inuenietis adiuro te per patrem et filium et spiritum sanctum non amplius crescas sed arescas super aspidem et basilliscum ambulabis et conculcabis leonem et draconem crux matheus crux marcus crux lucas crux iohannes. Sing this prayer on the black blains nine times, after first saying the Pater Noster: “tigað tigað tigað calicet aclu cluel sedes adclocles acre earcre arnem nonabiuð ær ærnem niðren arcum cunað arcum arctua fligara uflen binchi cuterii nicuparam raf afð egal uflen arta arta

Box 3 .4 (continued ) arta trauncula trauncula. Seek and you will find. I adjure you by the Father and the Son and the Holy Spirit that you do not grow more, but wither up. You will tread on the asp and the basilisk, and you will trample on the lion and the dragon. Cross Matthew cross Mark cross Luke cross John.”

The sentence about the asp, basilisk, lion, and dragon is from Psalm 90:13, while “seek and you shall find” is from Matthew 7:7.

British LiBrary, harLey Ms 585 (Lacnunga), foL. 146v– 50v (ca. 975– 1025) This is a long recipe for a holy salve, in which the practitioner takes butter from a cow of one color and mixes it with consecrated water using a stick engraved with the names of the evangelists. Prayers and psalms should be sung over the mixture, and then the recipe gives the following instructions: þis gealdor singe ofer. Acre arcre arnem nona ærnem beoðor ærnem. nidren. arcun cunað ele harassan fidine. Sing ðis nygon siðan ⁊ do ðin spatl on ⁊ blaw on. Sing this charm over [the mixture]: “Acre arcre arnem nona ærnem beoðor ærnem. Nidren. Arcun cunað ele harassan fidine.” Sing this nine times and put your saliva on it and blow on it.

In the remainder of the ritual, the practitioner puts a large selection of herbs next to the bowl with the butter, and a priest consecrates them with a series of prayers.

British LiBrary, harLey Ms 585 (Lacnunga), foL. 165v (ca. 975– 1025) This recipe includes only a brief reference to the charm: Þis gebed man sceal singan on ða blacan blegene .ix. siðum. tigað. One should sing this prayer on the black blains nine times: “Tigath.”

(continued)

Box 3 .4 (continued ) The remainder of the charm comprises instructions for making a poultice and a salve to apply to the boil.

BodLeian LiBrary, Ms BodLey 163 , foL. 227r (ca. 1000– 1100) Tigað. Tigað. Tigað. calicet aclocluel sedes adclocles arcre. enarcre erernem Nonabaioth arcum cunat arcum arcua fligara soh wiþni necutes cuterii rafaf þegal uflen binchni. arta. arta. arta. trauncula. trauncula. trauncula. Querite & invenietis. pulsate & aperietur uobis. Crux matheus. crux marcus. crux lucas. crux Iohannes. Adiuro te pestiferum uirus. per patrem & filium & spiritum sanctum. Vt amplius non noceas Neque crescas sed arescas. AMEN.

The Latin portions of this charm read as follows: Seek and you will find. Knock and the door will be opened to you. Cross Matthew. Cross Mark. Cross Luke. Cross John. I adjure you, pestilential venom, by the Father and the Son and the Holy Spirit, that you do no further harm, nor grow, but wither up. Amen.

caMBridge, gonviLLe and caius, Ms 379/599, foL. 49r (ca. 1150– 1250) Contra felon. super infirmum dic mane ⁊ uespere vel tribus uicibus. Thigat. Thigat. calicet. Archlo. cluel. tedes. Achodes. Arde. ⁊ herclenon. Abaioth. Arcocugtia. Arcu. Arcua. fulgura. Sophiunit. ni. cofuedri. necutes cuteri. nicuram. Thefalnegal. Vflem Archa. cum hunelara. querite ⁊ inuenietis. pulsante ⁊ aperientur. + crux matheus + crux marcus + crux lucas + crux Iohannes. Adiuro te pestiferum uirus per patrem ⁊ filium ⁊ spiritum sanctum. ut amplius homini huic non nosceas neque crescas sed arescas. + In nomine pater ⁊ filii. ⁊ spiritus. sancti. amen. PATER NOSTER Against a felon. Say over the patient, morning and evening, or three times: “Thigat. Thigat. Calicet. Archlo. Cluel. Tedes. Achodes. Arde. And herclenon. Abaioth. Arcocugtia. Arcu. Arcua. Fulgura. Sophiunit.

Box 3 .4 (continued ) Ni. Cofuedri. Necutes cuteri. Nicuram. Thefalnegal. Vflem Archa. With hunelara. Seek and you will find. Knock and the door will be opened. + Cross Matthew. + Cross Mark. + Cross Luke. + Cross John. I adjure you, pestilential venom, by the Father and the Son and the Holy Spirit, that you do not harm this man further, nor grow, but wither up. + In the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit. Amen. Pater Noster.

I have assumed that “pulsante et aperientur” is an error for the biblical “pulsate et aperietur” (Matthew 7:7) and have translated accordingly.

British LiBrary, sLoane Ms 431, foL. 45r– v (ca.1200– 1240) Item Istud debes dicere mane ⁊ uespere. super infirmum pro eadem re. Thigat. Thigat. calicet. arclo cruel. tedel. aclodes arde. ⁊ ercle. nonbaioth. arcocugna. arcu. arcua. fulgura. sof. coph. nidri. necutes. cuterei. nicufam. teflal ufleni. hunidiu. arta. arta. arta. trauncula. trauncula. trauncula. Quarite. ⁊ inuenietis pulsate ⁊ aperetur uobis. Crux Matheus. +. Crvx Marcus + crux lucas. + crux Iohannes. +. Adiuro te pestiferum uirus per patrem ⁊ filium ⁊ spiritum. sanctum ut amplius huic homini non noceas. neque crescas. sed arescas. In nomine patris ⁊ filij ⁊ spiritus sancti amen. pater noster. iij. Another [for felon]. You should say this over the patient morning and evening for the same thing: “Thigat. Thigat. Calicet. Arclo cruel. Tedel. Aclodes arde. and ercle. Nonbaioth. Arcocugna. Arcu. Arcua. Fulgura. Sof. Coph. Nidri. Necutes. Cuterei. Nicufam. Teflal ufleni. Hunidiu. Arta. Arta. Arta. Trauncula. Trauncula. Trauncula. Seek and you shall find. Knock and the door will be opened to you. Cross Matthew + Cross Mark + Cross Luke + Cross John + I adjure you, pestilential venom, by the Father and the Son and the Holy Spirit that you harm this man no more, and that you do not grow, but wither up. + In the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.” Three Pater Nosters.

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that had been in use in the pre­Conquest period. The disappearance of En­ glish incantations in charms recorded after 1150 may, therefore, be linked specifically to the use of the English language. Intriguingly, the trend followed by languages of efficacious incantations is not the same as the trend for efficacious texts, in which the powerful words of the charm are written rather than spoken. As with spoken incanta­ tions, written charms in Latin survive beyond the Norman Conquest. For example, the Heavenly Letter, which Christ was believed to have sent to Abgar, king of Edessa, appears as a protective amulet in the ninth century Royal Prayer Book and remained in circulation for centuries after.44 The Peperit charm, which involves copying a list of miraculous births in order to help women in labor, can be found in manuscripts from the first half of the eleventh century and, in variant versions, in numerous other copies until at least the fifteenth century.45 Although Anglo­Norman medicine does not appear to have been closely related to pre­Conquest medicine, all of these charms were also common in other European countries.46 Their survival therefore does not necessarily demonstrate the continuation of a specifically pre­Conquest charm tradition. Vernacular languages, however, are almost absent in the surviving me­ dieval records of efficacious written texts. I have only found one example of French being used as a written language of power during the Anglo­ Norman period and no examples of English used in efficacious texts before the mid­fourteenth century, as I discuss in chapter 4. The French example appears in Cambridge, Corpus Christi College, MS 405, a manuscript that dates from the second quarter of the fourteenth century. The recipe, in­ tended to protect crops from mice and rats, instructs its reader to say three Pater Nosters and then “parnetz treis peres de Creye e escriuetz le pere e 44. British Library, Royal MS 2 A xx, fols. 12r– 13v; Don C. Skemer, Binding Words: Textual Amulets in the Middle Ages, Magic in History (University Park: Pennsylvania State University Press, 2006), 101– 3. The legend of Christ’s letter to Abgar circulated widely. Abgar’s letter to Jesus and Jesus’s reply, in their Latin versions from Rufinus’s translation of Eusebius’s Historia ecclesiastica, are printed with translations in Christopher M. Cain, “Sacred Words, Anglo-Saxon Piety, and the Origins of the Epistola salvatoris in London, British Library, Royal 2.A.xx,” Journal of English and Germanic Philology 108, no. 2 (April 2009): 171– 72. 45. Bodleian Library, MS Junius 85, fol. 17r– v. Later versions of this charm occur, for example, in British Library, Sloane MS 146, fol. 30r– v and Durham University Library, MS Cosin V.V.13, fols. 24v– 25r. For more on this charm, see Marianne Elsakkers, “‘In Pain Shall You Bear Children’ (Gen. 3:16): Medieval Prayers for a Safe Delivery,” in Women and Miracle Stories: A Multidisciplinary Exploration, ed. Anne-Marie Korte (Leiden: Brill, 2001), 179– 209. 46. Green, “Salerno on the Thames,” 229.

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le fuiz e le seint esperitz” (take three equal pieces of chalk and write “the Father” and “the Son” and “the Holy Spirit”).47 Other spoken prayers, in both French and Latin, follow. The use of French as a written language of power in this charm is, I believe, an innovation or an error. Although the initial instructions tell the reader to take three pieces of chalk on which to write the names of the Holy Trinity, one of the later prayers within the charm reads: Jeo vous coniure par le pere le fuiz ele seint esperitz que vous surritz ne rachs point ne mangerint ne mal facetz en ceo ble en le quel nous auonis cestes quatre peres mises.48 I conjure you by the Father and the Son and the Holy Spirit that you, mice and rats, do not eat or do any harm to this wheat in which we have placed these four stones.

This reference to four stones, rather than the three previously mentioned, suggests that the spoken prayer originated alongside a different set of in­ structions for creating the inscriptions. My database contains three other charms from the Anglo­Norman period that use writing on chalk or stones as protection against rats and mice, as well as a later version of a similar charm in English.49 In each of these versions, the efficacious words written onto the stones are the names of the four evangelists, sometimes with the words alpha and omega, and the stones are to be placed in the four corners of the building on which the charm will act.50 The instructions to write the names of the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit are therefore anomalous both in the use of written French as a language of power and within the structure of the charm itself. Although the existence of this charm demonstrates that when it was copied in the fourteenth century, its scribe, at least, did not find it incon­ ceivable that French should be a written language of power, its extreme rarity emphasizes the distinction between spoken and written charms. Spoken charms make relatively frequent use of vernacular languages for 47. Cambridge, Corpus Christi College, MS 405, vol. 1, fol. 7v. 48. Cambridge, Corpus Christi College, MS 405, vol. 1, fol. 7v 49. Cambridge, Gonville and Caius, MS 385/605, p. 301; Bodleian Library, MS Digby 86, fol. 32r– v, and MS Rawlinson C 814, fol. 5r; and, from the first half of the fifteenth century, Cambridge, Magdalene College, Pepys MS 1661, p. 29. 50. The French version of this charm is in Bodleian Library, MS Rawlinson C 814, fol. 5r, while the English version is in Cambridge, Magdalene College, Pepys MS 1661, p. 29.

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their incantations, adapting to broader linguistic changes. On the other hand, charms that rely on written words for their efficacy make widespread use of the biblical languages of Latin, Greek, and Hebrew, of unknown words, and of strange characters, as I discuss below.

Unknown Words and Characters Scholars have often assumed that textual charms developed from or gave permanence to the words of spoken charms, emphasizing their oral nature even when the charms themselves are supposed to be written.51 How­ ever, in the surviving record from medieval England, there is little overlap between the texts that were perceived as powerful when written and the incantations that were perceived as powerful when spoken. Even if written charms developed from spoken charms in antiquity, by the Middle Ages spoken and written charms had diverged. Many spoken charms embraced vernacular languages, perhaps deriving some of their effect from the pa­ tient’s response to the words of the charm. Written charms, by contrast, placed increasing value on incomprehensibility and secrecy. Sloane MS 475, which contains the earliest examples of charms using Anglo­French, also contains the earliest English examples of a new written “language.” Several of its charms, especially those in the second section of the manuscript, make use of nonalphabetic characters. On fol. 137r– v, for example, is a charm for protection. The text reads: Vt non timeas. aliquem non inimicum non iudicem. non maleficium. non erbarum non potione malum non serpentem. non demonium non pestem. In order that you not fear anything, neither enemy nor judge nor wrongdoing nor poisoner nor harmful drink nor serpent nor demon nor pestilence.

The charm itself consists of two lines of distinct shapes (fig. 3.2). Some of the characters in the lower line resemble letters from the Roman alphabet. Others resemble elaborated or conjoined versions of letters. Still others 51. See, for example, Skemer, Binding Words, 133; Roy Kotansky, “Incantations and Prayers for Salvation on Inscribed Greek Amulets,” in Magika Hiera: Ancient Greek Magic and Religion, ed. Christopher A. Faraone and Dirk Obbink (Oxford and New York: Oxford University Press, 1991), 110; Olsan, “Inscription of Charms,” 401.

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Fig. 3.2 British Library, Sloane MS 475, fol. 137v. Photograph: © The British Library Board.

bear no similarity to the familiar alphabet or to the alphabet of any other language. However, in their separation into individual units and in their linear organization, they mimic the appearance of an alphabet— albeit an illegible one that cannot be read aloud. These shapes follow the tradition of charaktêres or caracteres, symbols that seem to have developed among Graeco­Egyptian magicians in the second century AD as the ability to read and write hieroglyphs declined.52 The Greek intellectual reception of hieroglyphs as divine symbols repre­ senting complete ideas led to the development of a method for creating hieroglyph­like characters for use in magical ritual.53 Richard Gordon even argues that “the pseudo­hieroglyphics that are so common in mor­ tuary contexts (mummy­cases) indicate that by the Roman period it was often the idea of hieroglyphs rather than the text they communicated that was important.”54 The interpretation that the idea of writing was more im­ portant than the text it communicated is equally valid when considering the pseudoalphabetic charms of Anglo­Norman England. After the Norman Conquest, written charms increasingly made use of unknown words and letters. Texts of ritual magic from this period, such as the Ars notoria, which first survives in manuscripts of the late twelfth or early thirteenth century, do the same. The Ars notoria, which promises its users knowledge of the seven liberal arts, contains prayers written in 52. Richard Gordon, “Charaktêres between Antiquity and Renaissance: Transmission and Re-Invention” in Les savoirs magiques et leur transmission de l’Antiquité à la Renaissance, ed. Véronique Dasen and Jean-Michel Spieser, Micrologus’ Library 60 (Florence: Sismel Edizioni del Galluzzo, 2014), 257– 61. 53. Gordon, “Charaktêres,” 262. 54. Gordon, “Charaktêres,” 260– 61.

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what the text claims is a mixture of Hebrew, Greek, Chaldean, and Arabic that will lose its power if translated.55 These prayers are set within dramatic geometrical figures (the notae to which the title refers).56 Although the rituals of the Ars notoria are beyond the scope of my study, they clearly demonstrate that interest in the power of unknown words in this period extended beyond the context of charms. I have identified three basic types of incomprehensible text, only one of which appears to have circulated in pre­Conquest England. In the pre­ Conquest period, as discussed in the previous chapter, written charms occasionally made use of letters that were not part of the Roman alphabet. However, in all of these examples, the letters were borrowed from Greek or from the runic alphabet. Taking the form of a string of recognizable letters from the Roman, runic, or Greek alphabets, this is the simplest type of incomprehensible writing. An early example of this practice in England is an amulet to ensure favor during a meeting with a king or lord, which includes the following string of letters: “xx. h. d. e. o. e. o. o. e. e. e. laf. d. R. U. fa. ð. f. þ. Λ. x. Box. Nux.”57 In some cases, strings of letters such as this were used as mnemonic devices for familiar texts, as in the early twelfth­ century scientific miscellany Durham Cathedral Library, MS Hunter 100. Here, a charm to stop nosebleeds reads:

55. Clare Fanger, “Sacred and Secular Knowledge Systems in the Ars notoria and the Flowers of Heavenly Teaching of John of Morigny” in Die Enzyklopädik der Esoterik: Allwissenheitsmythen und universalwissenschaftliche Modelle in der Esoterik der Neuzeit, ed. Philipp Theisohn and Andreas B. Kilcher (Munich: Wilhelm Fink Verlag, 2010), 158; Julien Véronèse, “Magic, Theurgy, and Spirituality in the Medieval Ritual of the Ars notoria,” in Invoking Angels: Theurgic Ideas and Practices, Thirteenth to Sixteenth Centuries, ed. Claire Fanger, Magic in History (University Park: Pennsylvania State University Press, 2012), 54. 56. These unknown words were the focus of theological condemnation of the text, as there was no way to guarantee that the angels they named were unfallen. John of Morigny’s early fourteenth-century Liber florum celestis doctrine, which explicitly aims to replace the corrupt Ars notoria with a holier ritual, removes the names and replaces them with more easily recognizable terms. Fanger, “Sacred and Secular,” 157– 58. For an edition of the Liber florum, see John of Morigny, Liber florum celestis doctrine: The Flowers of Heavenly Teaching, ed. Claire Fanger and Nicholas Watson, Studies and Texts 199 (Toronto: Pontifical Institute of Mediaeval Studies, 2015). 57. British Library, Cotton MS Caligula A xv, fol. 140r. The text is illegible in places, and I have relied on the transcription in Karen L. Jolly, “Tapping the Power of the Cross: Who and for Whom?,” in The Place of the Cross in Anglo-Saxon England, ed. Sarah Larratt Keefer, Catherine E. Karkov, and Karen Louise Jolly (Woodbridge, UK: Boydell Press, 2006), 64.

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Fig. 3.3 Durham Cathedral Library, MS Hunter 100, fol. 118r. Photograph: Reproduced courtesy of the Chapter of Durham.

Ad restringnendum sanguinem de uena naris effluentis. In nomine. p. ⁊. f. ⁊. s. s. Sta sta stagnum fluxus sanguinis sicut stetit iordan in quo iohannes ihesum christum baptizauit. Kyrieleison .iii. Pater noster. Ecce crucem. d. f. p. a. u. l. d. t. i. r. d. in nomine domini.58 To restrain blood flowing from the vein of the nose. In the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit. Stand, stand, pool of the flow of blood, as the Jordan stood still in which John baptized Jesus Christ.59 Kyrie eleison .iii. Pater Noster. Behold the cross of the Lord! Be gone all evil powers! The Lion of the tribe of Judah, the root of David. In the name of the Lord.

At the beginning of the charm, the scribe has abbreviated the common phrase “patris et filii et spiritus sancti” (of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Ghost) to “p. ⁊. f. ⁊. s. s.,” assuming that the reader will rec­ ognize the sentence from the opening words “In nomine” (in the name; fig. 3.3). The later string of characters works in much the same way: the opening words “Ecce crucem” (behold the cross) serve as a cue for the reader, who will call to mind the rest of the familiar prayer “Ecce crucem 58. Durham Cathedral Library, MS Hunter 100, fol. 118r. I am grateful to Sarah Gilbert for bringing this charm, and others in the manuscript, to my attention. 59. The idea that the River Jordan stood still at Christ’s baptism was widespread in western Europe and appears, for example, in the Old English Vercelli Homily 16. Constance B. Hieatt, “Transition in the Exeter Book ‘Descent into Hell’: The Poetic Use of a ‘Stille’ yet ‘Geondflow[ende]’ River,” Neuphilologische Mitteilungen 91, no. 4 (1990): 432.

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domini! Fugite partes adversae! Vicit Leo de tribu Iuda, radix David!” (Behold the cross of the Lord! Be gone all evil powers! The Lion of the tribe of Judah, the root of David!) The initials of each word ensure accu­ rate recollection of the text. Although the pre­Conquest charm to guarantee favor looks similar, it gives no opening cue. The presence of the runic letters ð and þ mean that any text expanded from its string of letters would have to be in English or a Scandinavian language, but as two words supposedly begin with x, and another with the Greek letter lambda, this would be impossible. Instead, the string of letters gives the visual impression of being an abbreviation of a longer text, borrowing the trappings of learning to imply a verbal mean­ ing that is inaccessible to its user. The power of the inscription appears to derive, in part, from its illegibility. Later charms that use strings of characters may not incorporate letters from other alphabets or use unusual letters with surprising frequency, but they still seem to be imitating abbreviations. For example, there is a pop­ ular ritual in which the practitioner should write a string of letters onto an egg to predict whether a patient will live or die. The prognostication is done by looking to see whether there is blood in the egg when it is broken, although the charm­copies disagree as to whether blood predicts death or recovery. My sample includes nine copies of this charm, dating from the late thirteenth century to the fifteenth century.60 No two versions give the same sequence of letters, although they do share some similarities. For instance, many copies share the sequence x­g, often preceded by the sequence s­p­p. But if scribes had recognized a prayer behind these letters, we would not expect to see so much variation. It therefore seems that even if these letters did originally indicate a longer composition, whether spoken or written, that original had been forgotten. The charm continued to be copied because of its power as writing. The second type of incomprehensible text takes the form of a set of individual characters that do not align with any recognizable alphabet but that still imitate the letter separation of an alphabetic or hieroglyphic writing system. This is the type that first appears in Sloane MS 475 soon after the Norman Conquest. Unlike the recognizable letters in the first type of incomprehensible text, these signs have no known phonetic value. They convey the idea of a communicative system but are inherently un­ 60. Cambridge, Corpus Christi College, MS 388, fol. 35r, and Magdalene College, Pepys MS 878, p. 181; British Library, Harley MS 1680, fol. 7v, and Sloane MSS 431, fol. 16r, and 3466, fol. 48r– v; Wellcome Library, MS 404, fol. 17r; and Bodleian Library, MS Digby 86, fol. 17v, MS Douce 84, fol. 8v, and MS Rawlinson C 814, fol. 56r.

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pronounceable and visibly differentiated from standard alphabets.61 As a result, they cannot be understood by either the patient or— if the two are different— the practitioner. The third type is the most distinct from ordinary writing. These “texts” take the form of pseudo­Solomonic seals or magical figures, blurring the boundary between text and image. Neither alphabetic nor attempting to appear alphabetic, they have complex symbolic forms. Such seals were introduced to England through Arabic magic texts, but Christian authors of ritual magic texts expanded them creatively in ways that were some­ times viewed as orthodox.62 Although the full range of ways in which such figures were incorporated into ritual magic is beyond the scope of this study, some pseudo­Solomonic seals were recorded alongside charm­texts and were used for similar purposes.63 They are often circular in shape and smaller than their more complex ritual counterparts. They come in many forms, but frequently the body of the seal takes the form of a branching, weather­vane­like symbol with decorative extensions at the end of each branch. In some cases, these extensions take shapes that are reminiscent of Roman letters, while in others, the seals incorporate legible text. How­ ever, the obviously nonalphabetic layout and the nontextual appearance of the seal as a whole set it apart from a piece of ordinary writing. Yet the seals could nonetheless be understood as texts. For example, Roger Bacon (1220– 1292) argues that magical characters are made from many letters collected into a single figure, something that he (incorrectly) understands as comparable to the formation of Chinese characters.64 Complex symbols 61. Gordon, “Charaktêres,” 266– 67. 62. Sophie Page, “Medieval Magical Figures: Between Image and Text,” in The Routledge History of Medieval Magic, ed. Sophie Page and Catherine Rider (Abingdon: Routledge, 2019), 433, 439. 63. There was some overlap between the seals discussed here and those used in ritual magic: Page, “Medieval Magical Figures,” 440. For more on pseudo-Solomonic figures, see Sophie Page, Magic in the Cloister: Pious Motives, Illicit Interests, and Occult Approaches to the Medieval Universe, Magic in History (University Park: Pennsylvania State University Press, 2013), especially chapter 4, pp. 73– 92. 64. Roger Bacon, “Opus Tertium” XXVI, in Fr. Rogeri Bacon Opera quaedam Hactenus inedita, ed. J. S. Brewer (London: Longman, Green, Longman, and Roberts, 1859), 1:98: “characteres sunt figurae literarum ad invicem congregatae in figuram unam, secundum quod aliquae nationes Orientales scribunt, ut in tractatu De regionibus Mundi conscripsi” (characters are shapes of letters, each gathered together into a single shape, following how some Eastern nations write, just as I listed in the treatise “On the Regions of the World”). His discussion of Chinese characters can be found in Roger Bacon, The “Opus Majus” of Roger Bacon, ed. John Henry Bridges (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1896), 374.

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like the seals could be experienced as a type of “text,” then, even if they could not be read. The power of their “text” is accessed through physical contact, by carrying them as an amulet, or by looking at their designs. A series of excellent examples can be found in the mid­thirteenth­ century Canterbury amulet.65 The amulet’s single large sheet of parchment (51.2 × 42.7 cm) was folded vertically into eight columns and horizontally into four rows, making it small enough to be easily portable. A single scribe copied its text in a neat and readable textualis hand, complete with scribal corrections.66 The seals are found along the top of the recto and on part of the dorse of the amulet. Most of them sit within circular roundels, but two on the recto are shaped like an almond or mandorla, similar to depic­ tions of the side wound of Christ, and others stand alone with no border. Still other magical figures appear within the body text of the amulet. The legible text of the amulet specifies that these seals and figures should be understood as a form of writing. For instance, one symbol in the fifth column on the recto, which incorporates the word tetragrammaton, is ex­ plained as follows (fig. 3.4): Hoc signum dedit angelus domini sancto columbano episcopo siquis fidelis hanc figuram in qua scripta sunt nomina dei ineffabilia super se habuerit nulla uis dyaboli aduersus eum preualebit.67 The angel of the Lord gave this sign to the bishop, St. Columbanus. If any of the faithful has upon him this figure in which are written the ineffable names of God, no power of the devil will prevail against him.

The opening information, asserting that the seal has a heavenly origin, is not unusual: several other seals or charms in this amulet alone make the same claim. The claim that the seal also contains the ineffable names of God— plural, and therefore indicating more than just tetragrammaton— is less common. Taken together, these statements imply not only that this particular seal represents a form of heavenly writing that can convey in­ formation beyond the scope of the human alphabet— or indeed beyond human comprehension— but also that other similar seals may represent other unknown texts. The seals of the Canterbury amulet cannot be read as ordinary text, 65. Canterbury Cathedral Library, Additional MS 23. This amulet is discussed in detail in Skemer, Binding Words, 199– 214. There is an edition of the text at 285– 304. 66. Skemer, Binding Words, 199. 67. Canterbury Cathedral Library, Additional MS 23, recto, column 5.

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F ig. 3.4 Canterbury Cathedral Library, Additional MS 23, recto. Photograph: Reproduced courtesy of the Chapter of Canterbury.

but they use alphabetic forms to draw the reader toward the experience of textuality. This technique is most evident in the seal at the top left on the recto of the amulet (fig. 3.5). This sign is clearly not legible in any standard fashion. However, the symbol at the top of the seal resembles the letter p, while the symbol directly below it can be read as a capital A. The cross on the branch to their right could resemble a capital T, while the three crossbars on the branch to their left look like a reflected capital letter E. The symbol to the left of that branch is an R. If these branches, taken together, are read as “Pater,” other symbols suggest further letters: the bottom branch, for example, includes a capital N, a black circle that could hint at an o, and a finial whose curves might remind a viewer of the shape of an s. Alternatively, the letters could be read as spelling out the word pax (peace), or as an elaborate form of the Chi­Rho Christogram. The seal simultaneously resists and invites reading. It uses the viewer’s potential familiarity with alphabetic signs to encourage engagement with the seal in a search for meaning, thereby creating a space between legi­

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Fig. 3.5 Canterbury Cathedral Library, Additional MS 23, recto. Photograph: Reproduced courtesy of the Chapter of Canterbury.

bility and illegibility. Furthermore, this seal is positioned at the top left of the amulet where it will be the first to be encountered by a viewer. Its suggestion of a textual meaning therefore influences the viewer’s approach to the remaining seals, even those that cannot be as easily resolved into possible words. Each of these three types of illegible writing relies on its distance from ordinary text to create an impression of hidden power. Although little information about the reception of charms survives, the evidence of one early fourteenth­century medical miscellany does suggest that the users of written charms may have perceived power in their very illegibility. On fol. 74v of the Bodleian Library’s MS Rawlinson C 814, there are brief instructions for a charm that promises that whatever the reader wishes for he will get and whatever favor he asks for will be done (“Vt quicquid vol­ ueris accipias. ⁊ quicquid pecieris gratum fiat”; fig. 3.6). The charm gives

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Fig. 3.6 Bodleian Library, MS Rawlinson C 814, fol. 74v. Photograph: The Bodleian Libraries, University of Oxford (CC-BY-NC 4.0).

a string of letters, interspersed with crosses, to be written and carried in the left hand: “+ dd + K. S. + qd. qdd + q qui ⁊ o oe. oex AA. qui. s. s. + c. A. ø 9. W o or. hæc. e. m. e. ad. +.” It also offers a short prayer, although it is unclear whether this was to be written or read. The charm is of the first type discussed above: although the letters cannot be resolved into meaningful text, they are all easily recognizable as characters from the Roman alphabet or common forms of abbreviation. At some point during the manuscript’s history, a reader pricked pin­ holes around each of the charm’s letters and crosses. While it is impossible to know when these pinholes were made, the fact that they only affect the letters that should be copied as part of the charm suggests that they were made by someone who intended to put the charm to use. These pinholes may be evidence that the letters were copied not as a text, which could be copied by eye, but as images or magical characters. One medieval tech­ nique for transferring images was pouncing, a technique in which holes were pricked through the original image onto a second sheet of parchment or paper.68 Chalk or charcoal could then be rubbed through the holes in the second sheet onto a third sheet, transferring the outline of the image to be copied. This method of copying prioritizes the letter as a shape to be precisely transferred over the fact that the letter is a letter. The illegible texts of the charms begin, therefore, to disrupt our sense of what certain medieval people might have viewed as a text.

68. Dorothy Miner, “More about Medieval Pouncing,” in Homage to a Bookman: Essays on Manuscripts, Books and Printing Written for Hans P. Kraus on His 60th Birthday, Oct. 12, 1967, ed. Hellmut Lehmann-Haupt (Berlin: Gebr. Mann Verlag, 1967), 87– 107.

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Proof of Efficacy The third way in which the charms in Sloane MS 475 differ from previous charms is in their occasional claim that their efficacy has been proven. In the pre­Conquest period, some charms included a final sentence vouch­ ing for their efficacy, such as the relatively common phrase “him biþ sona sel” (he will soon be well).69 None, however, claims to have been tested. In Sloane MS 475, certain recipes do make such claims. One remedy for childbirth reads: Si mulier de partu laborat. sc[r]ibe hoc in carta. Panditur interea domus omnipotentis olimpi. Ex tonna propera. christus rex te uocat ut uideas lumen huius seculi. Hoc scriptum cum litio nouo ligare debes ad coxam mulieris de[x]teram. ⁊ cum exierit infans. cito tolle ne sequitur matrix probatumest.70 If a woman is in labor, write this on parchment: “‘Meanwhile the palace of all­powerful Olympus was opened wide.’ Hurry out of [. . .]. Christ the king calls you, that you might see the light of this century.” You should tie this writing with new thread to the right hip of the woman, and when the infant has emerged take it away quickly lest the womb follow. It is proven.

Other charms in the manuscript make similar statements.71 Medie­ val practice did not require scientific proof as we understand it today, but some charms do go so far as to suggest experiments that will allow their users to test the recipes’ efficacy for themselves.72 The power of 69. In Bald’s Leechbook III, British Library, Royal MS 12 D xvii, for example, the phrase occurs with charms on fols. 115v, 116r, 124r, and 124v. 70. British Library, Sloane MS 475, fol. 113v. Here, as elsewhere for this manuscript, I have regularized word spacing while retaining the scribe’s spelling. The manuscript reading at the ellipsis in this translation is “tonna” (ton), but similar charms have the more plausible reading “vulva.” See, for example, Anton E. Schönbach, “Eine Auslese altdeutscher Segensformeln,” in Analecta Graeciensia: Festschrift zur 42. Versammlung deutscher Philologen und Schulmänner in Wien (Graz: Verlagsbuchhandlung ‘Styria,’ 1893), 40, no. 21. The word could also be an alternate form of tunna (barrel; cask), giving the more metaphorical reading “Hurry out of your cask.” The quotation “Panditur interea domus omnipotentis olimpi” is the first line of book 10 of Virgil’s Aeneid. 71. For example, at fols. 115v, 121r, and 134v. 72. Claire Jones, “Formula and Formulation: ‘Efficacy Phrases’ in Medieval English Medical Manuscripts,” Neuphilologische Mitteilungen 99, no. 2 (1998): 206.

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the charms’ words was therefore perceived as a constant, something that could be tried and repeated with lasting success. An example can be seen on fol. 133v, in a text offering instructions for a textual amulet to prevent conception. After telling the reader to write certain characters on a lamella, the text reads: “Nam si uis probare in abore fructiferum sub pende ipsa arbor fructum num faciet” (If you want to test [this], hang [the lamella] from a fruit­bearing tree; this tree will not bear fruit).73 A similar recipe with a similar form of proof but a different set of unknown characters appears on fol. 135v. The existence of an efficacy test assumes that a ritual will have the same effect every time it is performed correctly. The presence of these tests, therefore, implies a new attitude toward the relationship between text and healing, or at least a new expression of that attitude. The characters used in the charms are presented either as having natural inherent power or as a form of communication with an unspecified entity that would be compelled to act consistently whenever the characters are present. The latter view was certainly held by later medieval theologians, who consistently viewed the presence of unknown characters as a sign of de­ monic activity. The most influential writer on the subject was Thomas Aquinas, who addressed the question in his Summa Theologica. Although Aquinas does not argue against the use of written amulets, he does urge caution. His first concern is what text is written: Quia si est aliquid ad invocationes Daemonum pertinens, manifeste est superstitiosum et illicitum. Similiter etiam videtur esse cavendum, si contineat ignota nomina, ne sub illis aliquid illicitum lateat. Because if it is connected with invocation of the demons it is clearly superstitious and unlawful. On like manner it seems that one should beware lest it contain strange words, for fear that they conceal something unlawful.74

He also warns that the text should contain no “vain” characters— although he permits the sign of the Cross— and that no hope should be placed in the manner in which the text is written or folded. Unfamiliar words 73. British Library, Sloane MS 475, fol. 133v. 74. Thomas Aquinas, Summa Theologiæ (London and New York: Blackfriars, with Eyre & Spottiswoode and McGraw-Hill Book Company, 1964– 81), 2a2ae. 96, 4, vol. 40: 82– 83.

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and characters, he argues, rely on demons for their efficacy. The wearing of sacred words— if the wearer’s mind is focused solely on the power of God— is otherwise lawful. Although the magical figures used for protec­ tion and healing appear in late medieval manuscripts owned by physicians, theological concerns about their proper use remained alive until the very end of the medieval period.75 Those concerns did not prevent the circu­ lation of charms that used unknown words or symbols, but in some cases they did reduce the enthusiasm with which writers claimed their efficacy.

Incomprehensible Words and Unknown Alphabets in the Anglo-Norman Alexander The association of unknown words with supernatural power during the Anglo­Norman period can be seen in the descriptions of magic in the Anglo­Norman Alexander.76 The poem, also known as Le Roman de toute Chevalerie, was composed by Thomas of Kent in the third quarter of the twelfth century, perhaps at St. Albans.77 After a brief introduction, the narrative opens with the story of Nectanabus, a magician­king of Libya who uses his powers to take the form of a dragon and impregnate Olym­ pias, the queen of Macedonia. The resulting child is Alexander the Great, at whose hands Nectanabus will die. The first major piece of magic Nectanabus performs in the text is a piece of divination in which he discovers that his armies will be overcome by the enemies who intend to attack him. Although the divination itself is performed using water in a basin, the text emphasizes that the language Nectanabus uses is strange: 75. Sophie Page, “Medieval Magical Figures,” 440– 41, cites two physicians’ handbooks from fifteenth-century England that contain magical figures: Wellcome Library, MS 404, fol. 32r (an amulet against plague) and San Marino, Huntington Library, MS HM 64, fols. 17v, 21v, 34r (two figures), and 51r (figures against enemies, sudden death, to aid in victory, protect against fire and premature births, and protect against demons). 76. Although I have generally preferred the term Anglo-French to Anglo-Norman when referring to language, I use the title “Anglo-Norman Alexander” in line with the poem’s editorial history. For discussion of the similarities between Insular and Continental French, and therefore of the distinction between Anglo-French and AngloNorman, see David Trotter, “Not as Eccentric as it Looks: Anglo-French and French French,” Forum for Modern Language Studies 39, no. 4 (October 2003): 427– 38; and Ardis Butterfield, The Familiar Enemy: Chaucer, Language and Nation in the Hundred Years War (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2009), especially pp. 12– 17, 55– 57. 77. Geert de Wilde, “Revisiting the Textual Parallels and Date of Thomas of Kent’s Alexander and Jordan Fantosme’s Chronicle,” Medium Ævum 83, no. 1 (2014): 88– 89.

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Quant soit par les esteilles lour entencion, Un ris geta de joie e dit une oreison: Charme fust en chaldeu, ne say pas le jargon. Ewe fist donc metre al bacin de laton, Fist sors e dist charmes en estrange sermon.78 ( line s 6 8– 72)

When he knew their [i.e., his enemies’] intention from the stars, he laughed with joy and said a prayer: the charm was in Chaldean; I don’t know the language. Then water was put into a brass basin; he did spells and said charms in strange speech.

This short passage draws attention to the language of Nectanabus’s magic three times: first in specifying that it is in Chaldean, then in reporting that the narrator does not understand the language, and finally by identifying the speech as strange. The term “jargon,” associated as it is with animal noises, incomprehensible gurgling, and the slang of thieves, further dis­ tances the words of Nectanabus’s charm from ordinary, communicative speech.79 The Anglo­French text’s interest in the strange and incomprehensible nature of magical language is Thomas of Kent’s own addition. His main source for the poem was the early fourth­century Res gestae Alexandri Magni, attributed to Julius Valerius Alexander Polemius. Thomas of Kent knew the text in an abridged version, composed no later than the ninth century, that is now known as the Zacher Epitome after its editor.80 In that text, no specific details describe the act of divination that predicts Nectanabus’s downfall, except that it was performed using a basin and other equipment.81 Nectanabus’s magic is still introduced in terms of powerful speech: in the opening of the text, the reader learns that “quod alii armis, ille ore potuisse convincitur” (what others conquered by force, 78. Thomas de Kent, Le roman d’Alexandre, ou Le roman de toute chevalerie, trans. Catherine Gaullier-Bougassas and Laurence Harf-Lancner, ed. Brian Foster and Ian Short, Série “Moyen Âge” Éditions bilingues 5 (Paris: Champion Classiques, 2003). All quotations of the medieval text are from this edition. 79. John Trumper, “Slang and Jargons,” in The Cambridge History of the Romance Languages, vol. 1, Structures, ed. Martin Maiden, John Charles Smith, and Adam Ledgeway (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2011), 660– 61. 80. Thomas of Kent, The Anglo-Norman “Alexander: Le Roman de toute Chevalerie” by Thomas of Kent, ed. Brian Foster and Ian Short (London: ANTS, 1977), 2:63. Julius Valerius, Julii Valerii Epitome, ed. Julius Zacher (Halle: Waisenhause, 1867). 81. Valerius, Epitome, 3, I.3.

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he conquered through speech) and that he enchants wax figures of his enemies’ ships using incantations (“praecantamina”) “quibus vocaret deos superos inferosque” (through which he would summon gods from above and below).82 However, nothing indicates that the speech is foreign or strange. The change in the later text does not necessarily imply that mag­ ical practices made more use of strange language, simply that strange lan­ guage may have been more central to literary perceptions of magical acts. Elsewhere in the Anglo­French text, Nectanabus’s magic is linked to the written word. Again, Thomas of Kent’s text expands upon its Latin source. In the Zacher Epitome, Nectanabus writes Queen Olympias’s name onto the wax figure of her that he enchants, but his magic is not otherwise as­ sociated with writing.83 The Anglo­French text specifies the use of writing to identify all of Nectanabus’s wax figures, whether of his enemies or of Queen Olympias (lines 59, 228). The name written on the figure appears to connect the material to the person named, just as it does in the charms discussed in chapter 1 that associate the medieval patient with past recip­ ients of healing. More significantly, Nectanabus’s second major magical act in the text, in which he causes the queen to dream that she has been impregnated by a dragon, ends when “Nectanabus se[s] karectes fina” (line 241; Nectanabus brought his characters to an end). Here, the term for character seems to be used as a shorthand for magical practice. Al­ though the text does not otherwise describe any magical characters being used to prepare the spell, Thomas of Kent’s word choice suggests that he imagined this magic in terms of impenetrable written language. By con­ trast, his Latin source makes no mention of how the spell is brought to an end.84 While the Anglo­Norman Alexander adds references to unknown lan­ guages and written characters to its source, the late thirteenth­ or early fourteenth­century Kyng Alisaunder removes them.85 The Middle English Kyng Alisaunder, which is based on the Anglo­Norman Alexander, explains that Nectanabus defeats his enemies “Mid charmes and myd coniurisouns” (line 81).86 When predicting his own downfall he casts “[hi]s charme” (line 104) and makes the images of his foes and allies fight in a basin 82. Valerius, Epitome, 1 and 2, I.i. 83. Valerius, Epitome, 7, I.v. 84. The corresponding passage of the Latin is in Valerius, Epitome, 9, I.vii. 85. G. V. Smithers, ed., Kyng Alisaunder (London: Oxford University Press for the EETS, 1952– 7), 2:44. 86. Smithers, ed., Kyng Alisaunder, 1:7. All quotations are from this edition’s text of Bodleian Library, MS Laud Misc. 622.

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“al by charme” (line 109). He writes the queen’s name onto the wax image he makes of her, lights candles, and distributes herbs. “Þus charmed Nep­ tenabus,” we are told (line 342). In each case, the magic Nectanabus per­ forms is associated with charming, but the specific detail that the language of his magic is strange or foreign has been removed. The English version also omits the reference to magical characters in the Anglo­French text: Kyng Alisaunder associates Nectanabus’s magic with the written word but not with words that are unknown. The poet tells us that “Þoo he lete re­ dyng on his book, / Olympyas of slepe awook” (lines 355– 56). The impli­ cation is that reading the book has maintained the spell, linking magic with text but placing no particular emphasis on the nature of magical writing. I have argued above that surviving charms from the Anglo­Norman period show particular interest in unknown words and characters. The Nectanabus section of the Alexander narratives suggests that the charms may have been reflecting— or even contributing to— a broader associ­ ation between unfamiliar languages and magic. Almost a quarter of the charms I have recorded from the Anglo­Norman period use unknown words or symbols. By contrast, in the period between 1350 and 1500, that figure drops to 16 percent, although unknown words and symbols were clearly still in use in more complex ritual magic. As these three versions of the story make clear, it is only the Anglo­French version— written during the period when unknown words were most common in charm­ texts— that links Nectanabus’s powers with incomprehensible speech and writing. The earlier Latin source and the Middle English adaptation, composed toward the end of the Anglo­Norman period when unknown words were already becoming less common in charms, do recognize spo­ ken and written words as potentially powerful components of magical practice. Yet the words they imagine are not necessarily foreign or strange. We can therefore see literary texts potentially responding to prevailing cultural assumptions about what kinds of charm­words might influence the physical world.

Conclusion There was a clear distinction between spoken and written charms in post­ Conquest England. Spoken charms made use of new vernaculars in which they could be understood, while for a time the powerful textual elements of written charms became increasingly illegible. The twelfth century, the beginning of the period under consideration and the point at which this shift began, is also the century identified by Michael Clanchy as marking

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a major (though by no means total) shift from oral to written testimony.87 This change represents the penetration of literate culture into wider soci­ ety: by the thirteenth century, even some serfs, whether or not they were literate themselves, could use written charters as titles of property.88 Text, even for those who could not read it, had both symbolic and practical power. As more people began to embrace literate culture and the power of text for the purposes of business and administration, the composers of written charms developed ways of distancing them from “ordinary” text. Charms also became more mechanical, offering proof of their efficacy in ways that imply that they could act by natural means rather than through the consent of God. Written charms became significantly more common. The sharp post­Conquest increase in the proportion of written charms might also shed light on later developments in charm practice. Owen Davies has argued that nineteenth­century England, unlike nineteenth­ century France, placed a heavy emphasis on written charms. He suggests that this could be linked to religious influence, arguing that “the Prot­ estant emphasis on the importance of the written word in worship, and as a vehicle of religious instruction, led to a concomitantly greater pop­ ular emphasis on the power of literacy and literary forms in early mod­ ern folk magic.”89 However, the changes first seen in Sloane MS 475 sug­ gest that England’s preference for written charms started well before the emergence of Protestantism. Among the charms from before 1100 in my sample, 22 percent make use of the written word, either as the only verbal element of the charm or in combination with spoken words. From the Anglo­Norman period, by contrast, the proportion is almost 43 percent. This is a striking shift toward the use of the written word, which may be correlated with an increase in literate practice more generally. In these broader trends, I see a connection between the increasing use of reading and writing to protect people’s legal and administrative interests and the increasing use of reading and writing for healing and protection itself.

87. Michael T. Clanchy, From Memory to Written Record: England 1066– 1307, 2nd ed. (Oxford: Blackwell, 1993), 260. 88. Clanchy, Memory to Written Record, 2. 89. Owen Davies, “French Charmers and Their Healing Charms,” in Roper, Charms and Charming in Europe, 109, and Popular Magic: Cunning-Folk in English History (London: Hambledon Continuum, 2007), 183– 84.

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1350 to 1500: “A Fayre Charme on Englysh” In this chapter we turn to the late Middle Ages, the period between 1350 and 1500 in which the English vernacular became increasingly dominant. Charms from this period survive in large numbers: they account for more than half of the texts I have collected, and hundreds more examples can undoubtedly be found elsewhere. As in the previous period, broader lin­ guistic changes led to changes in the languages used for charms, which now circulated more frequently in English. At the same time, concerns about the possible meanings of efficacious words in unknown languages increased. Of particular concern was the fear that someone might use a charm without understanding its meaning— perhaps a response to rising literacy that gave more people access to charm instructions. By the end of the Middle Ages, more people than ever were capable of reading charm instructions or copying an efficacious text. It is difficult to assess literacy precisely, in part because of the multiple languages written and read in England, which meant that a person might be literate in En­ glish or French but know little Latin. Literacy might also manifest itself in many ways, meaning that individual readers’ comfort with different types of text might vary. Malcolm Parkes, for instance, identifies three types of medieval literacy “that of the professional reader, which is the literacy of the scholar or the professional man of letters; that of the cultivated reader, which is the literacy of recreation; and that of the pragmatic reader, which is the literacy of one who has to read or write in the course of transact­ ing any kind of business.”1 As in earlier periods, we cannot assume that someone who knew how to read necessarily knew how to write. For all of these reasons, exact estimates of late medieval literacy levels vary widely. 1. M. B. Parkes, “The Literacy of the Laity,” in Scribes, Scripts and Readers: Studies in the Communication, Presentation and Dissemination of Medieval Texts (London: Hambledon Press, 1991), 275.

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However, literacy was substantially more widespread than it had been in earlier centuries. There has long been a consensus that education generally and liter­ acy specifically— both in Latin and in the vernaculars— increased in the fourteenth and fifteenth centuries.2 The London book trade experienced rapid growth in the fourteenth century, indicating both demand for and availability of the written word.3 Even for those who could not read for pleasure, the use of written documents ceased to be remarkable. The 1380s are the tipping point at which references to making documents begin to disappear from proof­of­age testimonies, which connected a notable event in a witness’s life— such as the making of a testament or charter— with the birth of the heir.4 When witnesses stop mentioning the creation of documents in their testimonies, we can assume that they no longer found the event to be sufficiently memorable. By the end of the medieval period, urban literacy, in particular, seems to have been relatively high. Between 1467 and 1476, 40 percent of the recorded witnesses at the London consistory court were described as lit­ erate, meaning that they could read at least some Latin.5 The propor­ tion able to read English would have been still higher. In 1533, a little after the end of the period under consideration, Sir Thomas More famously claimed that “people farre more then four partes of all the whole dyuyded into tenne, could neuer rede englyshe yet,” implying a vernacular literacy rate approaching 60 percent.6 This estimate has been widely discussed, 2. See, for example, Jennifer Bryan, Looking Inward: Devotional Reading and the Private Self in Late Medieval England (Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press, 2008), 11– 12; C. F. Briggs, “Literacy, Reading, and Writing in the Medieval West,” Journal of Medieval History 26, no. 4 (2000): 418; J. Hoeppner Moran, The Growth of English Schooling 1340– 1548: Learning, Literacy, and Laicization in Pre-Reformation York Diocese (Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 1985), 19; J. W. Adamson, “The Extent of Literacy in England in the Fifteenth and Sixteenth Centuries: Notes and Conjectures,” The Library 10, no. 2 (September 1929): 163– 93. 3. Parkes, “Literacy,” 286. 4. William S. Deller, “The Texture of Literacy in the Testimonies of Late-Medieval English Proof-of-Age Jurors, 1270 to 1430,” Journal of Medieval History 38, no. 2 (March 2012): 223. 5. All of the witnesses mentioned were male. As the witnesses include no doctors, lawyers, teachers, or clergymen, all of whom would have been educated, the actual level of literacy may have been a little higher. However, it is also worth noting that London may not be representative of the country as a whole. Sylvia L. Thrupp, The Merchant Class of Medieval London, 1300– 1500, 2nd ed. (Ann Arbor: University of Michigan Press, 1989), 156– 57. 6. Thomas More, The Complete Works of St. Thomas More, vol. 9, The Apology, ed. J. B. Trapp, (New Haven, CT: Yale University Press, 1979), 13.

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and scholars disagree as to its accuracy.7 However, the rhetorical context of More’s remarks, which argue against the need for vernacular transla­ tions of scripture, makes it clear that he intended to emphasize high rates of illiteracy in England. By More’s time, then, it seems probable that the average person of means was more likely than not to be literate in English. During the late fourteenth and fifteenth centuries, the relative im­ portance of writing in English increased markedly, making more texts available to readers not literate in French or Latin. Literary, devotional, and administrative texts all began to appear more frequently in English, although Latin was still commonly used for many important functions.8 For medical and scientific texts, which serve as major sources for the charms discussed here, Linda Voigts identifies the shift toward English as beginning around 1375. The long process of vernacularization in this field, she argues, was largely complete a century later in 1475.9 Writing at the very beginning of the period that Voigts describes, John Trevisa already recognizes the increasing dominance of English over French. He writes: Iohan Cornwal, a mayster of gramere, chayngede þe lore in gramerscole and construccion of Freynsch into Englysch; and Richard Pencrych lurnede þat manere techyng of hym, and oþer man of Pencrych, so þat now, þe ȝer of oure Lord a þousond þre hondred foure score and fyue, . . . in al þe gramerscoles of Engelond childern leueþ Frensch, and construeþ and lurneþ an Englysch.10 7. See, for example, J. Hoeppner Moran, “Literacy and Education in Northern England, 1350– 1550: A Methodological Inquiry,” Northern History 17, no. 1 (1981): 2; David Cressy, Literacy and the Social Order: Reading and Writing in Tudor and Stuart England (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1980), 44. 8. W. M. Ormrod, “The Use of English: Language, Law, and Political Culture in Fourteenth-Century England,” Speculum 78, no. 3 ( July 2003): 320; Michael Bennett, “France in England: Anglo-French Culture in the Reign of Edward III,” in Language and Culture in Medieval Britain: The French of England, c.1100−c.1500, ed. Jocelyn Wogan-Browne et al. (Woodbridge, UK: Boydell for York Medieval Press, 2009), 320– 33; Susan Crane, “Anglo-Norman Cultures in England, 1066– 1460,” in The Cambridge History of Medieval English Literature, ed. David Wallace (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1999), 58. 9. Linda Ehrsam Voigts, “What’s the Word? Bilingualism in Late-Medieval England,” Speculum 71, no. 4 (1996): 814. 10. John of Trevisa, “Translation of Higden’s Polychronicon,” in Fourteenth Century Verse and Prose, ed. Kenneth Sisam (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1921), 149. The significance of this statement has been much discussed. For a (quite controversial) reappraisal, see Christopher Cannon, From Literacy to Literature (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2016), 17– 24.

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As knowledge of French declined and bureaucratic activity rose, the bur­ den of translating texts originally written in French encouraged the use of English in administrative spheres as well.11 This general turn toward En­ glish also encompassed protective and healing words. However, increased literacy does not appear to have affected the proportion of charm­recipes that recommended using written words for amuletic purposes: the share of written and spoken charms recorded in manuscripts remained similar to that in the period between 1100 and 1350.12 As the language of charms changed, so did the purposes for which they were used. The range of situations in which late medieval charms were perceived as useful was narrower than in the Anglo­Norman period, with more than half the examples in my sample used to treat just five condi­ tions: bleeding, fever, childbirth, the falling sickness, and as a preventive treatment to stop wounds from festering.13 Notably, these purposes also differ from the common uses in earlier periods, at least as represented by surviving instructions. From pre­Conquest England, for example, sub­ stantially more charms survive for eye pain (thirteen examples) than for childbirth (three examples). Charms for bleeding and fever were common in the Anglo­Norman period, but charms for wounds and the falling sick­ ness occurred more rarely. Toothache charms were more common in the Anglo­Norman period than in the later Middle Ages. This may indicate that people were troubled by different conditions, or perhaps that non­ verbal medical treatments became more popular or more readily available.

Vernacularization and the Languages of Late Medieval Spoken Charms As the use of English writing increased in the late fourteenth and fifteenth centuries, charm­recipes also started to be copied in English rather than 11. Richard Britnell, “Uses of French Language in Medieval English Towns,” in Wogan-Browne et al., Language and Culture in Medieval Britain, 89. 12. Of the charms in my sample, just under 43 percent of those recorded between 1100 and 1350 explicitly include a written component, compared to 38 percent of those recorded between 1350 and 1500. 13. Out of the 604 charms I have collected from the late medieval period, eightyeight charms treat bleeding, with sixteen including written elements. Eighty-two treat fever, thirty-one incorporating text and thirteen involving the performance of a mass. Thirty-nine are to be used in childbirth, twenty-nine of which definitely use written elements. Sixty-two treat the falling sickness, forty-two of which use writing and thirteen of which use the Mass. Forty-three prevent wounds from festering, two of which are liturgical. Although wound charms do not include textual elements, some do include the making of crosses on lead plates or, more rarely, on the patient’s body.

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Latin or French. As in the Anglo­Norman period, the instructions that communicated the charm’s purpose and performance underwent language change differently from the efficacious words themselves. Between 1100 and 1350, very few charms— only 7 out of the 380 I have collected— used English in their instructions. Three of those were copied before 1125 and use Old English, and in one of those three, English appears only to name the disease.14 In the later medieval period, by contrast, 67 percent of the charms I have collected give their instructions wholly or partly in English. That dra­ matic increase coincides with the growing importance of English in other areas of medieval life, and particularly in medical and scientific writings.15 As the proportion of charms with English instructions increased, the proportion with Latin and French instructions necessarily declined. French was used in the instructions of 30 percent of the charms from the Anglo­Norman period, but it accounts for only 5 percent of the charms in my database copied after 1350. Half of these give their instructions only partially in French, with other instructions in English or Latin (box 4.1). By contrast, language mixing of this kind occurs in just 14 percent of the charms that use English instructions and 25 percent of those that use Latin, which may suggest that compilers assumed that readers would be more comfortable with English or Latin than with French.16 French charm incantations predate French charm instructions in surviving manuscripts used in England, perhaps because non­French­ 14. Durham Cathedral Library, MS Hunter 100, fol. 112v, includes a remedy against “gista. adle.” that is otherwise entirely in Latin (box 3.2). Other early twelfth-century charms with English instructions appear in Oxford, St. John’s College, MS 17, fol. 175r and Rochester Cathedral Library, A.3.5, fol. 95r. Examples dating from ca. 1250 to 1350 can be found in Cambridge, Corpus Christi College, MS 388, fol. 35r (two examples), and Bodleian Library, MS Ashmole 1280, fol. 192v and MS Rawlinson C 814, fol. 7r. 15. It should be noted that my database may exaggerate the increase because of the ease of searching the eVK2 database of scientific and medical writings in Old and Middle English, compiled by Linda Ehrsam Voigts and Patricia Deery Kurtz. This database can be searched for manuscripts containing texts that have been categorized as “charms.” The equivalent Latin database, eTK, which was compiled based on work by Lynn Thorndike and Pearl Kibre, does not have a “charm” category. It is therefore easier to identify manuscript sources that might contain English charms than manuscripts that might contain Latin ones, although many manuscripts contain both. Nevertheless, the increase is significant enough to be confident that a change occurred. Both databases can be accessed at https://cctr1.umkc.edu/search and via the Medieval Academy of America website. 16. Fifteen out of 31 late medieval charms with French instructions in my database also use another language for their instructions, compared to 55 out of 407 that use English and 55 out of 217 that use Latin.

Box 4.1 Charms Giving Instructions in Multiple Languages A relatively small number of charm recipes— 62 out of the 604 in my sample for the late medieval period— use more than one language for their instructions. Among these it is most common for the title of the recipe to be in one language and the body of the recipe in another, as shown below. Other combinations of languages also appear.

caMBridge university LiBrary, Ms additionaL 9308, foL. 35r– v (ca. 1390– 1410) A charm to staunche blod. Longinus miles latus domini nostri + ihesu christi lancea perforauit ⁊ continuo exiuit sanguis ⁊ aqua in redempcionem nostram. Adiuro te sanguis per ipsum + christum per latus eius. per sanguinem eius + sta + sta + sta +. Christus ⁊ iohannes descenderunt in flumen iordanis aqua obstipuit ⁊ stetit sic faciat sanguis istius corporis In + christi nomine ⁊ sancti Iohannis baptiste amen et dica ter Pater noster. ⁊ ter Aue maria. Longinus the knight pierced the side of our lord + Jesus Christ with a lance and immediately there came out blood and water for our redemption. I adjure you, blood, through + Christ himself, through his side, through his blood + stay + stay + stay. Christ and John went down into the River Jordan, the water became amazed and stood still. So may the blood of this body, in the name of + Christ and St. John the Baptist. Amen. And offer three Pater Nosters and three Ave Marias.

caMBridge university LiBrary, Ms dd.4.44, foL. 18r (ca. 1425– 1450) Forto staunche blood a charm la verrey dame set enson bank son verray fiz enson deuaunt verray est la dame verrey est le fauaunt verray voine estaunche ore ton sank treis foiz le dietz ⁊ treis pater noster A charm to staunch bleeding: the true Lady sat on her bench, her true Son on her lap. True is the Lady; true is the Child; true vein staunch now your blood. Say it three times, and three Pater Nosters.

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Box 4.1 (continued ) I read “le fauaunt” as an error for “lenfaunt,” perhaps caused by a missing mark of abbreviation over the first e. The reading “lenfaunt” appears in the copy of the charm in British Library, Harley MS 273, fol. 213r. It is unusual for a charm to give instructions in two vernacular languages, as this one does. Another example appears in the same manuscript on fol. 21r; further examples can be found in British Library, Egerton MS 833, fols. 9v and 18r– v, and Harley MS 2380, fol. 59r; Durham University Library, MS Cosin V.IV.1, fol. 32r; and Bodleian Library, MS Wood empt. 18, fol. 49r– v.

caMBridge university LiBrary, Ms dd.4.44, foL. 19r (ca. 1425– 1450) Practica Willelmi Marescalli Prioris Mertonie de infirmitate equorum Crist hym self was y bore in bemergebyre in benyngbyre. Bedleem hit hiȝt. ⁊ he was cristned in þe flom Jordan ⁊ þe flom wyht stood. so do þy blood. N. stond blood. stedde blood. warm blood. at warm herte. Pater noster And aftirward sey aȝeyn þis charme iij tymes wiþ iij Pater noster.

The charm’s heading can be translated as “A practice of William Marshall, prior of Merton, for the disease of horses.”

speakers were willing to use efficacious words in French if they were said to be effective. The situation for English is the opposite: instructions seem to have been widely translated before efficacious words in English became common. The transition may have been slow not only because there was no requirement for the practitioner or patient to understand the effica­ cious words but also because the language of the charm was perceived as contributing to its healing power and was therefore integral to its function. For instance, in the British Library’s Sloane MS 3466 (ca. 1375– 1450), there is a recipe for a common treatment for wounds in which the practitioner

Box 4.2 English as the Sole Language of Power in Charms Many more charms combine English with Latin prayers, particularly the Pater Noster and the Ave Maria, or include just a few words of Latin.

caMBridge university LiBrary, Ms additionaL 9308, foL. 68r (ca. 1390– 1410) A charm for theues. In bedlem god was born bitwen two bestes to reste he was leyd in þat stede was neyþer þef ne man but þe holi trinite þu self god þat þer was born defend oure bodyes ⁊ our catel fro þeues ⁊ almaner mischeues ⁊ harmes wher so we go be londe or be water be niȝt or be day be tide or bet ime amen

Other versions of this charm appear in British Library, Additional MS 33996, fol. 113r, Wellcome Library, MS 542, fol. 15r, and Bodleian Library, MS Ashmole 1447, part 2, p. 34.

BodLeian LiBrary, Ms douce 84, foLs. ii v– iii r (ca. 1400– 1450) Lord god as þou were borne in Bedleem an folued in f[lu]m Jurdan thou comandeste the flom to stonde and hit witstode so do this blod that this body .N. here blest þorow th[e] vertue of the blod that thou bledeste whan thou sholdest deye as thou ert fadir and sone and holigost

LincoLn cathedraL LiBrary, Ms 91, foL. 176r (ca. 1430– 1450) A charme for þe tethe werke [. . .]d brether are ȝe Say þe charme thris to it be se[. . .] and ay thr[. . .] charemynge I conjoure the laythely beste with þat ilke spere þat longyous in his hande gan bere And also with ane hatte of thorne þat one my lordis hede was borne with alle þe wordis mare ⁊ lesse with þe Office of þe messe with my lorde ⁊ his xij postills with oure lady ⁊ hir x maydenys Saynt margrete þe haly quene Saynt katerin þe haly virgyne ix tymes goddis forbott þu wikkyde worme þat euer þu make any ryscynge Bot awaye mote þu wende to þe erde ⁊ þe stane

Box 4.2 (continued ) LincoLn cathedraL LiBrary, Ms 91, foL. 176r (ca. 1430– 1450) Thre gude breþer are ȝe / Gud gatis gange ȝe / haly thynges seke ȝe / he says will ȝe telle me / he sais blissede lorde mot ȝe be / It may neuer getyne be lo / lorde bot ȝour willis be / Settis doune appone ȝour knee / Gretly athe suere ȝe me / By mary modir mylke so fre / There es no man þat euer hase nede / ȝe schall hym charme ⁊ aske no mede / And here sall I lere it the / as þe jewis wondide me / þay wende to wonde me fra þe grounde / I helyd my selfe bathe hale ⁊ sounde / Ga to þe cragge of Olyuere uete / Take oyle de bayes þat es so swete / and thris abowte this worme ȝe strayke / This bethe þe worme þat shotte noghte / Ne kankire noghte ne falowe noghte / and als clere hale fra þe grounde / Als Ihesu d[i]de with his faire wondis / þe Fadir ⁊ þe sone ⁊ þe haly gaste / and goddis forbott þu wikkyde worme / þat euer þu make any risynge or any sugorne / Bot a waye mote þu wende To þe erthe ⁊ þe stane

British LiBrary, harLey Ms 1735, foL. 52v (ca. 1440– 1500) Thre gud bredere went be þe stret; peture, paule and iames [. . .] wyt our lord ihesu crist. “Qwat sek ȝou?” sayd our lord ihesu crist to petur, paule & iames. “Help so both to þe wond of g[od w]ortis.” “Broþere, go forth,” sayd our lord ihesu crist to petur, paule and iames, “to þe mont of olivete [w]yt þe. And take blake wolle of þe schepe and oyl olyf of þe tre & say to þe wond of [. . .] defend þe goddis forbod to stynk or blede or [. . .] or festir or more harme don to ȝe [. . .] wondis þat our lord suffyrid [. . .] þe worchyp of [god?] [. . .] amen amen.”

The transcription of this charm is taken from Lois Jean Ayoub, “John Crophill’s Books: An Edition of British Library MS Harley 1735” (PhD diss., University of Toronto, 1994), 272.

BodLeian LiBrary, Ms ashMoLe 1447, Part 2, P. 20 (ca. 1460– 1520) For the felon a goo[d] scharme I coniour the wykked felyn be god almyȝthty heven ⁊ erthe and of the sonne and of the mone and of the vj styrrys and of alle creaturys and of a hovndert angellys of a (continued)

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Box 4.2 (continued ) hovndert bysshoppes of a hovndert abbottis rel to syenge masce and matynys a meddynter neȝght and of the clothe that good was wonddyd yn that non of yow entere no lenger ne dwelle yn the fader name and sonne and holy gost and iij tymes a bovt and he schall be hole

BodLeian LiBrary, Ms ashMoLe 1447, Part 2, P. 34 (ca. 1460– 1520) A water y charmyd ffor wondys I coniour the wond and thys water by the vertu of thys yovr lord Ihesu crest and by the vertu of þe v wondys the whyche very god and man toke yn hys body for yovr helthe ⁊ by the vertu of the tetes þat yovr lord Ihesu sokyed of that þu hake not nother þu rankell o not nother þu stynke not mor than dede the wondys of ovr lord Ihesu christus But þat helle þu c wond as that ys trv and so go owte the harme of thys wond by thys þe blessyeng + of ovr lord fadur alle þi myȝti ⁊ þe sonne and þe holy gost mot desend vpon thys wond In the name of the fader ⁊ the sone ⁊ the holy gost Amen

must say a charm over a lead plate with crosses drawn on it.17 The charm’s instructions are in English, but, unusually, its efficacious words use a dif­ ferent vernacular: French. Partway through copying the efficacious words of the charm, the scribe unconsciously switched into English. The first line of the charm originally read “Ihesu crist ausy vereyment suffryd v woundes for vs.” Realizing his mistake, the scribe crossed out “woundes for vs” and replaced it with its French equivalent, “plays pur nous,” before continuing the charm in French.18 Depending on the audience the charm was written for, the choice of vernacular may not have affected the reader’s ability to understand its text: after all, the scribe himself clearly understood both languages. However, the fact that the scribe corrected his mistake— not a universal practice in cases of inadvertent code­switching— suggests that

17. The text is on fol. 55r– v (box 4.3). 18. British Library, Sloane MS 3466, fol. 55r.

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the French language of the charm may have been viewed as a component of its power, an element that should not be altered casually.19 Despite inertia in the translation of efficacious words, many spoken charms began to circulate in English during this period, though Latin charms still remained in frequent use. The broader shifts in the linguistic landscape of England therefore altered even the languages that were seen as capable of transmitting healing power— or at least, that were recorded as such. In the century and a half between 1350 and 1500, English was used ten times more frequently for the efficacious words of charms than it had been in the previous 150 years.20 Very few of the English charms use English as their only language of power (box 4.2).21 This is in part because a large number of charms finish with a clause instructing the practitioner or patient to say a number of Pater Nosters, Ave Marias, and occasionally Credos, adding an element of spoken Latin to charms that otherwise rely on the vernacular.22 Latin remained important in liturgical charms, which relied on the performance of the Latin Mass. Although these charms could not alter their language, they did change in another way, in that their application broadened. In pre­Conquest England, liturgical charms were often used to treat conditions associated with elves, fend off the temptations of the devil, or cure insanity— which was also sometimes viewed as having a su­ 19. Voigts, “What’s the Word,” 815, notes an uncorrected example of code-switching in a discussion of fever, in which the translator of a Latin text writes that “ech haþ his signe for rigor, id est schakyng, as in a tercien frigus, id est coold, as in a cotidien. And horipilacio, id est grennyng wiþ teþ, in a quarten unde versus. Est triplex tipus rigor oripilacio frigus; pronosticacio. Þe pronosticacioun shall be þis.” 20. English appears as an efficacious language in almost 20 percent of the charms I have collected for the late medieval period (119 examples out of 604 charms), and less than 2 percent in the Anglo-Norman period (7 examples out of 380 charms). 21. I know of thirteen examples. The rest use English in combination with other languages, most commonly Latin but sometimes also French or “unknown” languages. 22. An example of such a finishing clause can be seen in Wellcome Library, MS 542, fol. 14v. The charm reads: [F]or to charme a wounde on englysch. I coniure þe wounde bliue. be þe verteu of þe woundes fyue of ihesu + criste both god and man: wyth riȝt he vs oute of helle wan. and be þe pappis of seynte marye: clene maydone seynte marie. þat þe wounde ake ne swelle. ne rancle. ne fester. ne blede no more þan dede þe woundes of god. + ihesu when he hangid on þe rode but fro þe grounde vpward be as hol as weren + ihesu woundes eueridel. In þe name of þe fader of myghtes most: and of þe sone and of þe holy gost. and sey þis .iij. tymes and thre pater noster and aue. While the majority of the spoken words of the charm are in English, the final sentence instructs the practitioner to say Latin prayers as well.

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pernatural cause. After the Conquest, they gradually became aligned with the more general uses of charms. More than 68 percent of the liturgical charms I have collected from between 1350 and 1500 treat either falling sickness or fever, while a smaller group of examples treat festering wounds. Although eight charms in my sample deal with the supernatural, none draws on the full ritual of the Mass.23 Some vestige of the use of liturgical ritual to treat supernatural disease may be present in the eleven examples that treat falling sickness, a seizure disease that included modern epilepsy. One diagnostic test, taken from the eleventh­century Latin translation of the Liber pantegni but circulating separately in the fifteenth century, uses spoken words to determine whether a patient is suffering from epilepsy on the one hand, or lunacy or demonic possession on the other.24 This suggests that seizures might have physical, mental, or supernatural causes and that the three could be difficult to distinguish. The use of liturgical charms to treat falling sickness may have been a response to the possibility that the symptoms had a demonic origin. Even so, it is clear that the con­ nection between liturgical charms and diseases with supernatural origins had weakened, if not disappeared entirely. Although Latin remained important, the use of French as an efficacious language declined significantly. French charms continued to circulate in 23. The supernatural charms can be found in Cambridge University Library, MS Additional 9308, fol. 65r–v (against wicked wights); Durham University Library, MSS Cosin V.IV.1, fol. 13v (against fever, but also mentioning temptations of the devil), and V.IV.8, fol. 22r–v (against wicked wights); British Library, Additional MS 33996, fols. 111v (against evil spirits) and 174r– v (against sorcery), and Sloane MS 1314, fol. 40v (against demons); and Bodleian Library, MS Douce 84, fol. vi v (against elves), and MS Wood D 8, fol. 127r (for a “forspoken” horse, i.e., one that has been bewitched). 24. British Library, Additional MS 33996, fol. 169r. The text reads: Si vis scire de suspecto an sit epilenticus vel demoniacus vel lunaticus dic hoc nomen in aure eius Recede demon quia effimploy tibi precipiunt si lunaticus vel demoniacus statim efficitur quasi mortuus fere per vnam horam et surgentem interoga eum de quacumque re volueris ⁊ dicet tibi ⁊ si non ceciderit audito hoc nomine scias eum epilenticum esse. If you wish to know whether a patient suffers from epilepsy or demonic possession or lunacy, say this name in his ear: “Go back, demon, because the effimploy command you.” If he is a lunatic or a demoniac he will immediately become as if dead for about an hour. When he rises, ask him about whatever thing you want and he will tell you. And if he does not fall when he hears this name, you will know that he has epilepsy. For other examples of this text, see Catherine Rider, “Demons and Mental Disorder in Late Medieval Medicine,” in Mental (Dis)Order in Later Medieval Europe, ed. Sari Katajala-Peltomaa and Susanna Niiranen (Leiden: Brill, 2014), 52– 54.

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England throughout the medieval period: for example, three charms using French for their efficacious words— one for fever, one for fistula, and one for wounds— appear in the late fifteenth­century recipe collection in the British Library’s Egerton MS 833.25 These instances, however, are rare: just 3 percent of the examples I have collected from 1350 to 1500 use French for the efficacious words of the charm. Like most of the English charms, all the French charms also include powerful words in Latin, usually in the form of Pater Nosters and Ave Marias. As with charms using French during the Anglo­Norman period, the language used for a charm’s instructions influenced which vernacular lan­ guage, if any, would be used for the powerful words of the charm itself. Charms with instructions in English alone or in English and Latin used efficacious words in English, Latin, Greek, and unknown languages or alphabets but only rarely made use of French. Similarly, charms with in­ structions in French used efficacious words in French, Latin, unknown languages, or a mixture of these, but I am aware of only one unusual late medieval example that uses English (box 4.3). I have argued that it was not necessary for practitioners to understand the efficacious words of charms for them to have effect, as demonstrated by the example of the Latin charms in Welsh orthography discussed in chapter 2. However, the evidence of spoken charms suggests a more com­ plicated picture, as I discuss below. In some cases, it seems that it was in fact desirable for the patient or practitioner to understand the meaning of the incantation, and these charms, understandably, were more likely to be translated into the vernacular languages of English and French. Many medieval spoken charms, both in vernacular languages and in Latin, draw connections between biblical and contemporary events in or­ der to inspire healing effects. This strategy of alignment, in various forms, is present in almost all the vernacular charms I have recorded from me­ dieval England. The clearest examples come in the form of historiolae, short stories about saints or biblical characters who experience the form of healing the charm aims to bring about. Historiolae collapse the perceived distance between biblical figures in the past and the patient’s present ill­ ness.26 In the common Super Petram charm, for example, the historiola 25. British Library, Egerton MS 833, fols. 9v, 12v, and 18r– v. 26. Daniel James Waller, “Echo and the Historiola: Theorizing Narrative Incantation,” Archiv für Religionsgeschichte 16, no. 1 (2015): 263– 80; David Frankfurter, “Narrating Power: The Theory and Practice of the Magical Historiola in Ritual Spells,” in Ancient Magic and Ritual Power, ed. Marvin Meyer and Paul Mirecki, Religions in the Graeco-Roman Ancient World 129 (Leiden: E. J. Brill, 1995), 457– 76.

Box 4.3 English Instructions, French Efficacious Words (and Vice Versa) British LiBrary, sLoane Ms 3466, foL. 55r– v (ca. 1375– 1450) A charme for woundes. tak a plate of lede. ⁊ make it als thynne as þu may. ⁊ mak it brode to couere þe wonde. ⁊ mak on ilk corner a croyse. ⁊ in þe myddis a croyse in þis manere. ⁊ say at ilk a croyse i pater noster. ⁊ i Ave maria. ⁊ say þis charme. Ihesu crist ausy vereyment suffryd v woundes for vs plays pur nous pecchours. si gerres cest. de tous maus. N Amen + ⁊ whasch þe wonde whit þe plate. ⁊ wharme water. ij sithes on þe day. ⁊ loke it towche non erde. ⁊ say þus þen. Coniuro te dolorem. per istam sanctam crucem. + ⁊ passionem christi. pro nobis super crucem passam. etiam per sanguinem ibi efusum. ne noceas illi. famulo uel famule .N. quin recipiat sanitatem. in aliquo membro. ut in isto. And þis coniurisoun schal be sayde in ilk cornere ⁊ in þe myddes. say þen þis. Coniuro te dolorem per iij clauos dei. per quos christus passus fuit super crucem. propter nos. ⁊ lauit nos ab omnibus peccatis nostris. ita liberet hunc famulum uel famulam dei ab omni dolore ⁊ malo + Amen. + And lat þe seke kepe hym fro alle ille metes ⁊ drynkes.

The French portion of this charm reads: As truly as Jesus Christ suffered five wounds for us sinners, so heal this from all illness.

The first Latin incantation reads: I conjure you, pain, through that holy cross + and the passion of Christ, suffered upon the cross on our behalf, and also through the blood poured out there, that you not harm this [male] servant or [female] servant [name]; rather that he or she should recover health in some limb, as in that one.

The second reads: I conjure you, pain, by the three nails of God, through which Christ suffered on the cross because of us, and washed us of all our sins. So

Box 4.3 (continued ) may he deliver this [male] servant or [female] servant of God from all pain and evil.

The manuscript includes an image of the plate, in red, without the central cross. There is a second diagram, including the central cross, in the outer margin of the page. A longer version of this charm appears in York Minster Library, MS XVI.E.32, fols. 144r– 45r. Another example of a charm that combines vernacular languages appears in Cambridge University Library, MS Dd.4.44, fol. 18r (box 4.1).

durhaM university LiBrary, Ms cosin v.iv.1, foL. 32r (ca. 1380– 1450) A charme for festres In nomine patris ⁊ c Seint Iope verme out qant out neef de noef ⁊ oet de oet ⁊ sept de sept ⁊ sys de sys ⁊ cynke de cynk ⁊ quatre de quatre ⁊ trois de trois ⁊ deux de deux ⁊ vn de vn ⁊ de vn nul auxy verramont comme dieu garrist seint Iope de festre ⁊ de feloun ⁊ de cancre sy garrisez cest cristien homme ou femme N pur lamour qil ad a dit seint Iope ⁊ ditez pater noster ⁊ aue. In the name of the Father, etc. St. Job had worms. How many did he have? Nine from nine and eight from eight and seven from seven and six from six and five from five and four from four and three from three and two from two and one from one and from one none. As truly as God healed St. Job of fistula and felon and canker, so heal this Christian man or woman [name] for the love that He had for the said St. Job, and say Pater Noster and Ave.

Similar charms with the same division of languages appear in British Library, Egerton MS 833, fol. 18r– v, and Harley MS 2380, fol. 59r. The form of this charm is an early one: see, for example, the twelfth-century text on fol. 40v of British Library, Sloane MS 84.

British LiBrary, egerton Ms 833 , foL. 12v (ca. 1450– 1500) Another tak ⁊ scher a wand of hesell of a yerer growyng ⁊ qwen þu scheres hit say a Pater noster. in þe name of god ⁊ efterward say þe (continued)

Box 4.3 (continued ) charme þat folowes. Architricline seaunt en haute ⁊ teynt vne verge de coudre en ses maynes ⁊ dit auxi verrament come ly prester fait dieu en ses maynes ⁊ auxi verrament come dieu nostre sygnour ihesu criste baysa sa tresdouce meyre ie vous comaund. coniure vergine verge de coudre que ensemble baysetz par charite ⁊ aydetz cest home ou femme de cest male feuer. In nomine patris et filij ⁊ spiritus sancti. amen. Pater est Alpha et Oo. Filius est veritas Spiritus sanctus est remedium. In nomine patris ⁊ filij et c. ⁊ ger þe seke say v. Pater noster in þe worschep of þe .v. woundes of our lorde.

The non-English portions of this charm read: Architricline sits on high and holds a hazel branch in his hands and says: as truly as the priest makes God in his hands and as truly as God our Lord Jesus Christ kissed his most gentle mother, I command [and] conjure you, virgin hazel branch, that you kiss together for charity and help this man or woman in this wicked fever. In the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit, Amen. The Father is Alpha and Omega. The Son is Truth. The Holy Spirit is the remedy. In the name of the Father and of the Son, etc.

The scribe changes ink as the powerful words of the charm begin. For discussion of the identity of Architricline, and for a fifteenth-century version of this charm in English, see Jonathan Roper, “Personal and Place Names in English Verbal Charms,” Il Nome nel Testo: Rivista internazionale di onomastica letteraria 8 (2006): 71.

British LiBrary, egerton Ms 833 , foL. 9v (ca. 1450– 1500) A gude charme for þe worme ⁊ for a wounde yf hit be noght wounded to þe dede. Pernez une pece de plumbe ⁊ le fete quarre ⁊ fetes. v. croyces denz ledite plumbe ⁊ enfesaunt de le longe baston de la primere croycz que ferray en mylow le plumbe dites. Pater noster. taunk. a. panem nostrum cotidianum ⁊ enfesant de la travers de la dite croycz ditez. panem nostrum cotidianum. tote hors o le. Ave maria. ⁊ issi fetez les

Box 4.3 (continued ) autrez quaters croycez on les quatres corners come il est susdite on le. Pater noster. ⁊ Ave maria. en le honour de les .v. playes noster. seigneur. ihesu crist. E en mettaunt le plumbe sour la playe ditez auxi verament come les playes noster. seigneur ihesu christi. ne ranclerent ne festrerent ne purrerent ne poet cest playe rancler ne festrerer ne purrerer mes soyt ill garry par la volunte noster seigneur. ⁊ par la vertu de lez .v. playes quil suffrit pur nous ⁊. ditez. In nomine patris ⁊ filii ⁊ spiritus sancti. amen. ⁊ ditez. iii. Pater noster. ⁊. iii. Ave maria. en honour du pier ⁊ del fith ⁊ del seynt espirit. Than byd hym þat þe lede negh noght þe erth fra hit be charmed ⁊ luke þat þe lede be noght remowed of þe wounde. þe first .iii. dayes ⁊ when þe thre dayes er gane. tak þe iuys of rede cale ⁊ wasche wounde þer with ⁊ dry hit ⁊ clense þe lede ⁊ lay hit on a gayne. til hit be hale ⁊ when hit drawes oute filthe or qwitour clense þe lede ⁊ þe wounde. ⁊ lay hit on a gayne with outen any waschyng ⁊ do swa morn ⁊ even til hit be hale ⁊ yf þe wounde be festred thurgh il kepyng þys charme sal hele hit. and yf þe lede be thrylled be strenth of þe malady mak a new lede ⁊ charme hit ⁊ lay hit þer to. als wele helpes this charme til other bolnyng of fester als of worme or of wounde.

The French and Latin portions of this charm may be translated as follows: Take a piece of lead and make it square and make five crosses in the said lead. And in making the long stem of the first cross that you make in the middle of the lead, say a Pater Noster until “our daily bread,” and in making the crossbar of the same cross say from “our daily bread” to the end, along with the Ave Maria. And so make the other four crosses in the four corners as aforesaid, with the Pater Noster and Ave Maria in honor of the five wounds of Our Lord Jesus Christ. And in placing the lead on the wound, say “As truly as the wounds of Our Lord Jesus Christ did not suppurate or fester or putrefy, may this wound not suppurate or fester or putrefy, but may it be healed by the will of Our Lord and by the virtue of the five wounds which he suffered for us.” And say “In the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.” And say three Pater Nosters and three Ave Marias in honor of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit. (continued)

Box 4.3 (continued ) I know of only one late medieval charm- text that combines French instructions with powerful words in English:

British LiBrary, harLey Ms 273 , foL. 112v (ca. 1350– 1380) Pur sang estauncher In nomine patris ⁊ c Longes þe knyht him vnderstod, to cristes syde his spere he sette, Þer com out water an blod, In þe nome of þe vader astond blod, In þe nome of þe holy gost asta blod, at cristes wille ne drople þe namore— Beau sire dieu ihesu crist auxi veroiement come longes, le cheualer vous fery de vne launce, ale coste destre, taunqe al cuer, de quei il ne saneit, dont il issist sang e eawe de queil il recouerist la vewe, vous pri auxi veroiement qe cest sang estanchez e vous comaund en soun seint noun. vous sang qe vous estaunchez pater noster ter. ave ⁊ c.

The French text reads: Good Lord God Jesus Christ, as truly as Longeus the knight struck you with a lance, in the right side, as far as the heart, from which it did not heal, from which came forth blood and water from which he recovered his sight, [I] pray to you as truly that this blood might staunch and command you in his holy name, you, blood, that you staunch. Three Pater Nosters, Ave, etc.

The French text is not a direct translation of the English one but draws on the same imagery relating to Longinus. I know of one earlier example of a charm with French instructions and English efficacious words:

caMBridge, corPus christi coLLege, Ms 388, foL. 13r (ca. 1320– 1330) Item pur etstancher sang Ditez god was born in beedlem and ifulled in þe flum iurdan as wis as þe floid witstoid also stancche ¶ N. þi blod.

The instructions read “Another to staunch blood” and tell the reader that the charm should be spoken.

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narrates a meeting between Christ and St. Peter at which St. Peter tells Christ that he has a toothache, and Christ commands the worm causing the toothache to leave.27 As the practitioner recites Christ’s words, the name of the medieval patient is inserted into the charm in substitution for the name of St. Peter. The practitioner ventriloquizes the words of Christ, and, as Edina Bozóky argues, “the sick person enters the mythic world of the narrative incantation.”28 A similar process appears in some written charms, as in the blood­staunching charms that identify the pa­ tient with Veronica, the biblical recipient of a miraculous cure for bleeding (box 1.1). Although it was not always necessary for historiolae to be understood in order for a given charm to work, the slippage they created between biblical and present events demonstrates that their semantic meaning was regarded as important to their function. Other French and English charms from this period do not go so far as to place the patient within the biblical narrative but do make specific connections between events from the Christian past and the patient’s disease or injury, compar­ ing rather than conflating the two. For example, some relate Christ’s wounds on the cross to the patient’s bleeding or painful injury or aim to heal diseases of the eye by referring to the biblical healing of Tobit’s blindness (box 2.3).29 Others make more abstract connections, creating links between belief in the narrative of Christ’s life and faith in the charm itself. 27. Versions of this charm from across the medieval period appear, for example, in Cambridge University Library, MS Additional 9308, fols. 25r– 26r; British Library, Additional MSS 15236, fol. 61v, and 33996, fol. 91v; Harley MS 585, fol. 183r–v; Cotton MS Vespasian D xx, fol. 93r; and Sloane MS 1314, fol. 15v; Wellcome Library, MS 542, fol. 6v; and Bodleian Library, MS Digby 86, fol. 30r; MS Junius 85, fol. 17v (imperfect); MS Rawlinson C 814, fols. 36v– 37r; and MS Wood empt. 18, fols. 2v– 3r. British Library, Sloane MS 431, fols. 39v–40r includes a similar narrative in which Mary tells the Holy Spirit about her toothache. 28. Edina Bozóky, “Mythic Mediation in Healing Incantations,” in Health, Disease and Healing in Medieval Culture, ed. Bert Hall, Sheila Campbell, and David Klausner (New York: St. Martin’s Press, 1991), 86– 87. 29. Selected examples of late medieval vernacular charms that make this connection between Christ’s wounds and the patient’s can be found in Cambridge University Library, MS Additional 9308, fol. 62r– v; Durham University Library, MSS Cosin V.III.11, fol. 77v, and V.IV.1, fol. 29v; British Library, Harley MSS 273, fol. 112v (two examples) and 2380, fol. 64r; and Bodleian Library, MS Bodley 761, fol. 21r. Examples of charms that refer to Tobit, of which I know no French examples, can be found in Cambridge University Library, MS Additional 9308, fols. 22v– 23r; British Library, Additional MS 33996, fol. 90r, and Sloane MS 1314, fol. 14r– v; and Bodleian Library, MS Wood empt. 18, fol. 1r– v.

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A fine such parallel appears on fols. 20v– 21r of the Bodleian Library’s MS Bodley 761, a book of medical and historical treatises copied by three different hands in the third quarter of the fourteenth century. This charm’s use of the vernacular may reflect the fact that its power partly depends on the patient or practitioner understanding its meaning. The long charm, which I quote in full to demonstrate the cumulative power of the repeated phrase “auxi verreement” (as truly), reads: Charme bone pur festre [C]eo est la charme seint Willame qe seint Gabriel la porta par nostre seignur pur charmer crestiens de verm de gute de kancre de festre de gute rancle de gitte enosse ⁊ de tote manere de gute. primerement faites chanter vne messe del seint espirit. ⁊ puis ditez ceste charme: In nomine patris ⁊ filij ⁊ spiritus sancti Amen Ihesu auxi verreement cum dieux fust ⁊ est ⁊ serra Et auxi verreement cum ceo qil dist veir dist Et auxi verreement cum ceo qil fist bien fist Et auxi verreement cum en la seinte virgine marie char frist. et auxi verreement cum il en son digne corps cinc plaies suffri pur touz peccheours reyndre et auxi verreement cum il en la seinte croiz se mist. et auxi verreement cum son corps fu en la croiz estendu ⁊ de ambe part de lui furent deux larons pendu ⁊ son destre coste de vne lance feru ⁊ ses mains ⁊ ses peez furent des clous fichez ⁊ son chief de espines corone. et auxi verreement cum son seint corps en le sepulcre reposa. et auxi verreement cum il les portes de enfern brisa ⁊ les suens sus amena. et auxi verreement cum il le tierz iour de mort en vie releua ⁊ puis a ceel munta ⁊ al destre son piere reposa, et auxi verreement cum il al iur de iuise vendra ⁊ chescun homme en char ⁊ en sanc ⁊ en age de xxx. anz releuera. et auxi verreement cum nostre seignur. touz a son pleisir iugera. et auxi verreement cum ceo est veirs ⁊ ieo le croi veirs est ⁊ veirs sera auxi verreement garisez cest homme .N. de gute de verm. de rancle de gute enosse. de gute arrante de gute ardante ⁊ de tote manere de gute, mort est la gute mort est le kancre. mort est le festre. mort est ⁊ mort soit si dieu plest de cest homme .N. Pater noster ¶ Ditez ceste charme iij feez iij iure vtre la maladie Et le defendez qil ne face autre medicine ⁊ qil ne de porte nule viaunde Et pur veir mes qil ieont cent partus curanz de denz ix iurs il ensecchirunt.30 A good charm for fistula. This is the charm [of] St. William, which St. Gabriel brought there through our Lord to charm Christians from worms, from gout, from canker, from fistula, from abscess, from gout 30. Bodleian Library, MS Bodley 761, fols. 20v– 21r.

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in the bones, and from all manner of gout. First have sung a mass of the Holy Spirit, and then say this charm: In the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit, Amen. As truly as Jesus was God and is and will be, and as truly as he was made flesh in the holy Virgin Mary, and as truly as he suffered five wounds in his exalted body to restore all sinners, and as truly as he placed himself on the holy cross, and as truly as his body was stretched upon the cross and on both sides of him were hung two thieves, and his right side was struck with a lance, and his hands and his feet were fixed with nails, and his head was crowned with thorns, and as truly as his holy body lay in the sepulchre, and as truly as he broke the gates of hell and brought out his [people], and as truly as on the third day of death he rose again in life, and then ascended into heaven, and sits on the right of his Father, and as truly as he will come on the Day of Judgment and will raise up every person in flesh and blood and at the age of thirty years, and as truly as our Lord will judge all at his pleasure, and as truly as this is true and I believe it is true and will be true, as truly heal this person [name] from gout, from worms, from gout in the bones, from moving gout, from inflamed gout, and from all manner of gout, dead is the gout, dead is the canker, dead is the fistula, it is dead and it may be dead, if this person [name] pleases God. Pater Noster ¶ Say this charm three times for three days over the malady. And take care that he use no other medicine and that he not abstain from any meat. And truly even if there are a hundred running sores [holes or wounds], they will dry up within nine days.31

This charm creates equivalence not between two physical things, such as the blood flowing from Christ’s wounds and that of the patient, but between belief in the basic elements of Christ’s life, death, and resurrec­ tion and the efficacy of the charm itself. The emphasis on truth and belief continues beyond the incantation of the charm and into the final sen­ tence of the recipe, which notes that if the charm is performed correctly the patient’s wounds will recover “truly.” The charm requires the speaker to affirm his or her belief in the Christian story by establishing parallels between the truth of the story, the speaker’s belief, and the patient’s re­ covery: “et auxi verreement cum ceo est veirs ⁊ ieo le croi veirs est ⁊ veirs sera auxi verreement garisez cest homme” (and as truly as this is true and I believe it is true and will be true, as truly heal this person). The notion that the patient will be healed as truly as the speaker believes the Chris­

31. I am grateful to R. Howard Bloch for help translating this charm.

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tian story to be true implies that stronger belief makes this specific charm more effective. The value of translating a charm such as this into a widely known ver­ nacular language stems, in part, from the fact that if its words are under­ stood by the patient or practitioner, they reinforce Christian faith. The words of the Auxi Verreement charm serve first as a reminder of the story of Christ, second as a confirmation of belief, and third as a method of healing. These three purposes are intertwined, and the charm’s outcome is linked to the speaker’s own belief. The repeated emphasis on the truth of the Christian narrative serves to remind the speaker of that narrative and reinforce his or her devotion to Christ, thereby increasing the charm’s efficacy. In other words, a major element of this charm relies on the as­ sumption that its user will understand its meaning.32 For a charm of this type, it seems logical that both the instructions and the efficacious words would eventually be translated.33 In the period between 1350 and 1500, then, there was a dramatic shift toward the use of English in charm instructions and in the efficacious words of spoken charms. The charms that circulated in this period in En­ glish or, more rarely, in French, relied in part on communicating their meaning to their users. Vernacular charms created confluence between biblical events and present events or between Christian faith and faith in the charm’s healing power, and as fewer people understood Latin than their native vernacular, these connections were more readily communi­ cated in a vernacular language.

Healing with “Wolle” and “Oyle” in The Siege of Jerusalem The Middle English alliterative poem The Siege of Jerusalem, composed in the 1370s or 1380s, takes the logic of charms that draw on the user’s faith and applies it in a literary context. It makes two references to the use of 32. Other examples of late medieval vernacular charms that use a similar “as truly” formula, although usually with less emphasis than in the instance above, include Durham University Library, MSS Cosin V.III.10, fol. 30r, and V.III.11, fol. 75r, and V.IV.1, fol. 32r; British Library, Additional MS 33996, fols. 109v– 11v; Egerton MS 833, fols. 12v and 18r– v; Harley MSS 273, fol. 112v (two examples), and 2380, fol. 64r; Wellcome Library, MS 542, fol. 14v; Bodleian Library, MS Bodley 761, fol. 21r; and York Minster Library, MS XVI.E.32, fols. 49v– 50r. 33. For an example of this charm with instructions and efficacious words in English, see the charm attributed to St. Susanne in the manuscript roll Wellcome Library, MS 410. The text appears on the dorse.

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medical charms, both added by the medieval poet to his source material.34 At once skillfully literary and often perceived as violently anti­ Semitic, the text’s “perfectly deserved reputation as the chocolate­covered taran­ tula of the alliterative movement” largely discouraged critical engagement until its “exhumation” by Ralph Hanna in 1992.35 However, it was clearly a popular text during the late medieval period. It survives in nine manu­ script copies— a number of witnesses that makes it the most frequently surviving English alliterative work other than the wildly popular Piers Plowman.36 The poem deals with the siege of Jerusalem by Titus and Vespasian in the year 70, at the culmination of the First Jewish­Roman War. The war is presented both as a politically justified response to the Jews’ refusal to pay tribute and as a religiously ordained vengeance for the death of Christ. Ralph Hanna reads the action of the poem in terms of political agency via the question of who has the right to act as a representative of the king. He argues that the undeniable violence of the siege is licensed because its perpetrators are participants in a system of “purified agency.”37 The soldiers and generals act on behalf of people whom the poem presents as 34. The date of the poem is proposed in Ralph Hanna and David Lawton, eds., The Siege of Jerusalem, EETS OS 320 (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2003), xxxv. Scholars have identified several direct and indirect sources for the Middle English Siege of Jerusalem, including the Legenda aurea, the French prose Vengeance de nostre seigneur and the Latin Vindicta Salvatoris, Roger d’Argenteuil’s Bible en François, Ranulf Higden’s Polychronicon, and the fourteenth-century Historia aurea compiled by John of Tynemouth. None of these refers to charms. See Phyllis Moe, “The French Source of the Alliterative Siege of Jerusalem,” Medium Ævum 39, no. 2 (1970): 147– 54; Andrew Galloway, “Alliterative Poetry in Old Jerusalem: The Siege of Jerusalem and Its Sources,” in Essays in Honour of Thorlac Turville-Petre, ed. J. A. Burrow and Hoyt N. Duggan (Dublin: Four Courts Press, 2010), 85– 106. 35. Ralph Hanna, “Contextualizing The Siege of Jerusalem,” Yearbook of Langland Studies 6 (1992): 109. Many scholars, including Michael Livingston, Bonnie Millar, and Marco Nievergelt, have studied the poem since then, often rejecting the perception of it as narrowly anti-Semitic. For example, Suzanne M. Yeager, in “Jewish Identity in The Siege of Jerusalem and Homiletic Texts: Models of Penance and Victims of Vengeance for the Urban Apocalypse,” Medium Ævum 80, no. 1 (2011): 56– 84, argues that the poem’s depiction of the Jews is complex, nuancing the text’s undeniable narrative of retribution and encouraging Christian readers to identify with the Jewish characters (pp. 57– 58). 36. Arlyn Diamond, “The Alliterative Siege of Jerusalem: The Poetics of Destruction,” in Boundaries in Medieval Romance, ed. Neil Cartlidge (Cambridge: D. S. Brewer, 2008), 103. See also Hanna and Lawton, The Siege of Jerusalem, xiii– xiv. 37. Hanna, “Contextualizing,” 112.

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having the right to order and undertake a war of this kind. Ultimately, they act on behalf of God, as “Jesus himself is an agent, a heavenly emissary, and his entire action in the poem is conceived as healing and thereby purifying our flesh­world of disease.”38 Christ’s healing action, I argue, is also woven into the poem thematically in the way the author uses and represents healing charms that resonate between the time of Christ and the poet’s medieval present. The Siege of Jerusalem introduces both Titus and his father Vespasian in terms of grotesque disease. Titus has a facial cancer that prevents him from opening his mouth (lines 30– 32).39 His father suffers from leprosy and also plays host to a colony of wasps that have built a hive in his nose, after which he is implausibly said to be named: he “Waspasian was caled þe waspene bees after” (lines 33– 38 [line 36]). Charms are first mentioned as a possible cure for their afflictions when Nathan, a messenger sent to Nero to report that the Jews will pay no more tribute to Rome, is stranded in Titus’s territory by a violent storm at sea. Titus asks him whether he knows of any cure for his disease. Nathan says no, not unless Titus were where Christ died, where there is a woman who can heal any wound. Titus asks for more information, saying: ‘Telle me tyt,’ quod Titus, ‘and þe schal tyde better, What medecyn is most þat þat may vseþ? Wheþer gommes oþer graces or any goode drenches Oþer chauntementes or charmes? Y charge þe to say.’ ‘Nay, non of þo,’ quod Nathan. ( line s 97– 101)

Instead of recommending earthly medicine, Nathan offers Titus Chris­ tianity. In response to Titus’s request for medical information, Nathan de­ scribes the birth of Christ, explains the three persons of the Trinity, and relates that Christ performed many miraculous healings “myd his dere wordes” (line 130). He concludes by explaining the healing power of the veil of Veronica, used to wipe Christ’s face on the way to the Crucifixion. Shocked and saddened by the story of Christ’s death and the role of Pon­ tius Pilate in his torture, Titus exclaims in pity and is immediately healed. The poet tells us that 38. Hanna, “Contextualizing,” 112– 13. 39. All quotations are from Hanna and Lawton, The Siege of Jerusalem.

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or þis wordes were wonne to þe ende, Þe cankere þat þe kynge hadde clenly was heled: Without faute þe face of flesche and of hyde, As newe as þe nebbe þat neuer was wemmyd. ( line s 17 7– 8 0)

Christian faith thus triumphs over the earthly medicine that Nathan re­ jects. The healing power of Christianity can also be seen a little later in the poem when the Pope touches Vespasian’s face with Veronica’s veil, instantly healing his leprosy and driving away the wasps (lines 253– 56).40 The healing power of the veil even extends beyond the individual: as it passes the temple on the way to Vespasian’s palace, pagan statues spon­ taneously crumble to pieces, aligning Vespasian’s return to bodily health with a demonstration of Christianity’s dominance over other faiths (lines 239– 40).41 Even before Vespasian’s cure, therefore, Rome itself is symbol­ ically healed of its pagan faith. The poem pits Christianity not just against Judaism during the siege but also against pagan belief. In Titus’s lines quoted above, “chauntementes or charmes”— along with other standard forms of medical treatment— are treated as ineffective, in sharp contrast with the healing power of Christian faith. It is clear that Na­ than’s account of Christ’s life and miracles is new and surprising to Titus. Indeed, his response to Nathan’s story structurally parallels his response to the sudden, miraculous healing of his tumor, subtly suggesting through the grammar of the poem both that the story and the miracle are related and that they are equally stunning. After Nathan tells the story of Christ’s life and his healing power, the next stanza in some manuscripts opens with Titus exclaiming over Rome’s treachery in giving Pilate the authority to judge Christ: “‘[A] Rome re[nay]e[d]!’ quod þe kyng” (line 173).42 Eight lines later, immediately following the miraculous healing of Titus’s tumor, another stanza opens with a parallel structure: “‘A corteys Crist!’ seide þe kyng + than” (line 181). These are the only two lines of the poem to begin 40. “Þe pope availed þe vaile and his [i.e., Vespasian’s] visage touched, / Þe body suþ al aboute, blessed hit þrye. / Þe waspys w[y]ten away and alle þe wo after: / Þat er [w]as lasar-l[ich]e lyȝtter was neuere.” 41. “Þe mahound and þe mametes tomortled to peces / And al tocrased as þe cloþ þroȝ þe kirke passed.” 42. This reading does not appear in the manuscript Hanna and Lawton use as the base text for their edition, Bodleian Library, MS Laud Misc. 656. Hanna and Lawton instead take this line from Princeton University Library, Taylor MS Medieval 11. Transcriptions and images of the various manuscripts are available from Timothy L. Stinson, ed., The Siege of Jerusalem Electronic Archive, https://siegeofjerusalem.org.

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with such a gasp of amazement. Since the Christian story appears, from this conversation, to be completely new to Titus, it is safe to assume that the charms he mentions when speaking to Nathan are not Christian in nature. The contrast set up in this passage, therefore, is not only between earthly medicine and divine miracle but between non­Christian and Christian methods of healing. On the one hand are herbal medicines and pagan charms, and on the other is healing through the agency of Christ. Healing charms appear again much later in the text, during the account of the siege of Jerusalem itself. The poet’s account of siege warfare is ex­ ceptionally brutal. One man is hit so hard with a rock that part of his skull “flow into þe feld a forlong or more,” while an unborn child is torn from its mother’s womb by a stone from a siege engine and tossed over the city walls (lines 828– 32). The poet specifically tells us that Vespasian is badly injured by a “hande­darte” thrown with such force that it goes through the leather of his boot and the bone of his foot, nailing his limb to the side of his horse (lines 815– 18). After this horrific battle Vespasian’s troops, “[a]l wery of þat werk and wounded ful sore” (line 848), return sorrowfully to their tents. There, they receive medical treatment from doctors who heal their wounds with oil and wool: Helmes and hamberkes hadden of sone: Leches by torche­liȝt loken here hurtes, Waschen woundes with wyn and with wolle stoppen, With oyle and orisoun ordeyned in charme. ( line s 849– 5 2)

The charms performed here, unlike the ones Titus mentions at the be­ ginning of the poem, are remarkably effective. The soldiers’ misery trans­ forms into joy, and rather than resting after the exertions of the day, they celebrate all night long: Þeȝ þey wounded were was no wo nempned, Bot daunsyng and no deil with dynnyng of pipis And þe nakerer noyse alle þe nyȝt­tyme. ( line s 85 4– 5 6)

The marvelous charm involving “wolle” and “oyle,” which the poet presents as healing Vespasian’s wounded soldiers so thoroughly that they dance away the night after a bloody battle, is identifiable from medieval collections of medical recipes. The references to wool and oil are famil­ iar from instructions for performing the so­called Three Good Brothers

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charm. This popular charm, which was known in England and across the European continent from at least the twelfth until the twentieth century, gained some approval even from learned physicians who generally dis­ dained verbal cures.43 The manuscript headings of the Three Good Brothers charm regularly draw attention to the specific ingredients of oil and wool. In Cambridge University Library’s MS Additional 9308, for example, the remedy is de­ scribed as “A charm for woundes with oyle ⁊ wolle.”44 Other manuscripts have similar headings, including “here ys a charme for woundys wyþ Oyle and Wolle,” “[T]his is a charm wyth oyle and wolle,” and, in Latin, “Car­ men cum oleo ⁊ lana” (A charm with oil and wool).45 Instructions to use oil and wool very rarely appear with other charms.46 I am aware of only one exception, which appears in the Bodleian Library’s MS Douce 84. That manuscript includes two full versions of the Three Good Brothers charm, one added to the opening flyleaves and one in the main text.47 The third charm to make reference to oil and wool instructs the reader to give the wounded man medicinal drinks, to put oil and black wool on his wound, and to charm it using a Latin incantation that refers to the soldier Longinus, also known as Longeus, wounding Christ’s side with his spear.48 Although this performance lacks the surrounding narrative about 43. Lea T. Olsan, “The Three Good Brothers Charm: Some Historical Points,” Incantatio 1 (2011): 55– 56; Michael McVaugh, “Incantationes in Late Medieval Surgery,” in Ratio et Superstitio: Essays in Honor of Graziella Federici Vescovini, ed. Giancarlo Marchetti, Orsolo Rignani, and Valeria Sorge, Textes et Études Médiévales 24 (Louvain-La-Neuve: Fédération Internationale des Institus d’Études Médiévales, 2003), 330– 31. 44. Cambridge University Library, MS Additional 9308, fol. 61r. 45. British Library, Egerton MS 833, fol. 26v; Wellcome Library, MS 542, fol. 14r; and British Library, Additional MS 33996, fol. 109r. 46. For more on this charm generally, see Olsan, “Three Good Brothers,” 48– 78. The appendix to this article includes twenty variants of the Three Good Brothers charm dating from the twelfth to the twentieth centuries, in a range of languages and from countries across Europe. 47. Bodleian Library, MS Douce 84, fols. ii v–iii r and 12r. The charm on the flyleaves is written in long lines across the opening. 48. Bodleian Library, MS Douce 84, fol. 18r– v. The charm reads: Medicine for a man þat is y hurt ⁊ rancleþ ȝyf hym drynke ranclewort oþer tormentyne ⁊ ley þer to oyle ⁊ blak wolle ⁊ charme it with þis charme ⁊ ȝyf hym drynke saue ones or ij. longeus miles latus domini perforauit sanguis ⁊ aqua vnde emanauit plaga illa quam non ranclauit nec non doluit nec pudredem facit set faciat plaga ista quam ego carmino non ranclet nec dolebat nec putridiam faciat in nomine patris ⁊ c and after ward ley to þe wonde a cros of lynnen cloþ y wet in welle water ⁊ sey þis charme ⁊ blessid

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the three good brothers, it is otherwise similar to that recommended by the Three Good Brothers charm. The wide currency of the Three Good Brothers charm can also be seen from several recipes for “pricking of sinews” that specify the use of oil and wool with a charm to treat the wound, without specifying the words of the charm itself. For example, one remedy, copied in the late fourteenth or early fifteenth century, reads: “For prikenge of synewes. tak oile roset ⁊ chaf it ⁊ as hote as þu miȝte suffre por it on þe pricked place ⁊ ley wolle aboue ⁊ so bind it vp ⁊ charme it ⁊ vse þis til þu be hol.”49 As oil and wool are so frequently identified with the Three Good Brothers charm, the reference to oil and wool here suggests that that is the charm intended. It was presumably in sufficiently wide circulation to be identified from the mere reference to oil and wool, whether in a medical recipe or in a literary text such as The Siege of Jerusalem.50 As Lea Olsan has noted, the Three Good Brothers charm typically con­ sists of a title, an opening narrative describing a meeting between Christ and the three brothers (who are going to Mount Olivet to find herbs), their dialogue with Christ, and his instructions to apply oil and wool to the patient’s wound and say a charm.51 The English version of the charm in British Library, Sloane MS 119, fol. 19v, reads:

⁊ sey v pater noster ⁊ v aues ⁊ ȝyf þe wounde geþ þorwe tak þre cloþes with inne ⁊ þre with oute ⁊ do þe charme ix siþes an eue ⁊ a morwe. The Latin portion of the charm can be translated as “Longeus the knight pierced the side of the Lord. Blood and water flowed out from that wound, which did not rankle or hurt or putrify, but let this wound that I charm not rankle or hurt or putrify, in the name of the Father etc.” 49. Cambridge University Library, MS Additional 9308, fol. 36v. Similar instructions telling practitioners to use some combination of oil, wool, and an unspecified charm appear, for example, in Durham University Library, MS Cosin V.IV.1, fol. 8r; British Library, Sloane MS 1314, fol. 20v; and Wellcome Library, MS 542, fol. 9v. 50. In one case, we know that the same amateur scribe copied both The Siege of Jerusalem and the Three Good Brothers charm. The Yorkshire landowner Robert Thornton (ca. 1397−ca. 1465) is the scribe of British Library, Additional MS 31042, which contains The Siege of Jerusalem (fols. 50r– 66r), and the scribe of Lincoln Cathedral Library, MS 91, which contains an apparently unique version of the Three Good Brothers charm in Middle English verse (box 4.2). It is recorded at DIMEV: Digital Index of Middle English Verse (https://www.dimev.net) 5900 as a charm for toothache, although the heading identifying it as such seems to apply to the charm above. For more on Thornton, see Susanna Fein and Michael Johnston, eds., Robert Thornton and His Books: Essays on the Lincoln and London Thornton Manuscripts (York: York Medieval Press, 2014). 51. Olsan, “Three Good Brothers,” 49.

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ffor to charme wondys ⁊ þis is a priyncepal charm ⁊ ofte prouyd þre gode bredere wenten de on way ⁊ he mette + Ihesus ⁊ seyde to hem qweyre go ȝe .iij. gode breþeren lord we gon to þe mont of olyuete for to gadere god herbis of sauacion of hele swere ȝe to me be þe mylk of seynt mari mayden ⁊ be þe sunne ⁊ be þe mone þat ȝe schul o novt hyden it in preuyte schul nout sey it ⁊ þat ȝe schul take no mede ⁊ go ȝe to þe mount of olyuet ⁊ tak blak wolle of a schep of ij yer ⁊ oyle of olyue ⁊ after seying þus as longius knyth þe syde of owre lord + Ihesu cryst with a spere þirlyd ⁊ þat wonde welkyd not rotyd not festryd not rankyd not ne bled not no mad no droppyng so þis wonde be þe wertu of þat wonde werke not longe + ne festre + ne rote + ne hold not + ne blede not + ne mak no droppyng + but be as hol ⁊ as clene as þe wonde þat longeys made in þe syde of owre lord Ihesu + cryst whan he henge on þe cros In nomine patris ⁊ filij ⁊ spiritus sancti amen.52

Other versions of the charm recommend different spoken words, but all are concerned with Christ’s wounds. They either use the motif of Longi­ nus wounding Christ’s side or focus on the five wounds of Christ without mentioning Longinus.53 If the audience of The Siege of Jerusalem recognized the Three Good Brothers charm from the reference to oil and wool, they would have seen the themes of the poem repeated within it. Unlike the ineffective charms that Nathan dismisses at the beginning of the poem, this charm is clearly Christian in nature— indeed, the poet describes the incantation as a prayer or “orisoun” (line 852). Furthermore, the charm itself enacts the contrast that appeared earlier in the poem between the healing power of Christ and medical forms of healing that are not explicitly Christian. In 52. Olsan, “Three Good Brothers,” 49– 50. 53. An example of the latter type appears in Durham University Library, MS Cosin V.IV.8, fol. 30r–v, reading: Fo to charme a wounde with oyle ande wolle. Thre gude bretheres ȝede to þe mounte of olyuet gode greses fore to seke all woundes to hele and mende þai mette with oure lorde Ihesu criste þat sayde to þaime what seke ȝe thre gode bretheres lorde wee seke gude greses. all woundes to hele turnes a gayne with me ande take oyle of olyfe and wolle of a schepe ande couers þe woundes be þe vertu of þe pappys þat gode souke ande be þe fyfe woundes þat he suffred ⁊ c. it neuer bolne rancle ne fester no more þan dyde oure lordes swet woundes but als clene hele it fra þe grownde als dyd oure lor[des] swet woundes. In nomine patris ⁊ filij ⁊ spiritus sancti say thys thryes. at morne and thryes at euen with thre pater noster and iij aue marias In nomine patris et filij et spiritus sancti amen.

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the Three Good Brothers charm, Christ’s words to the brothers provide an alternate method of healing in which medicinal herbs are not neces­ sary. Instead, the wounds of the patient are cured through analogy with Christ’s own wounds and through the confirmation of Christian belief, as the charm’s “just as . . . so also” structure means that any effective cure demonstrates the reality of Christ’s suffering on the cross. The contrast between medicinal herbs and Christian healing is made explicit in the ver­ sion of the charm recorded by the English physician John of Gaddesden in his medical compendium Rosa medicinae, probably composed between 1305 and 1317.54 In this version, Christ explicitly tells the brothers not to collect herbs, saying: “Coniuro vos tres boni fratres quod herbas dimitta­ tis” (I conjure you, three good brothers, that you set aside the herbs).55 The use of the Three Good Brothers charm within the poem is also noteworthy because, unusually, this charm demands to be spoken in public. Before communicating the charm to the brothers, Christ requests that they swear not to hide it from others, saying “swere ȝe to me be þe mylk of seynt mari mayden ⁊ be þe sunne ⁊ be þe mone þat ȝe schul o novt hyden it in preuyte schul nout sey it.”56 Similar instructions appear in other versions of the charm.57 Although the insistence on using the charm openly and not accepting payment for it was omitted from some later manuscripts, it seems likely that the poet of The Siege of Jerusalem knew the charm as one that should be performed in public.58 In The Siege 54. Tony Hunt, Popular Medicine in Thirteenth-Century England: Introduction and Texts (Cambridge: D. S. Brewer, 1990), 26. 55. British Library, Additional MS 33996, fol. 149v. Olsan, “Three Good Brothers,” 56, transcribed at 65. 56. British Library, Sloane MS 119, fol. 19v. The oath on Mary’s milk in German versions of the Three Good Brothers charm is discussed in Eleonora Cianci, “Maria Lactans and the Three Good Brothers: The German Tradition of the Charm and Its Cultural Context,” Incantatio 2 (2012): 55– 70. 57. For example, Cambridge, Corpus Christi College, MS 441, p. 578 (ca. 1230– 1270): “Iurate mihi per crucifixum. ut non in abscondito dicatis. nec mercedem inde capiatis” (Swear to me by the crucifix that you will not say it in secret, nor take payment for it). British Library, Sloane MS 1314, fols. 38v– 39r (ca. 1350– 1400) adds that the brothers shall not conceal the charm (“non abscondetis”), presumably meaning that they will use it widely to help others. In Lincoln Cathedral Library, MS 91, fol. 176r (ca. 1430– 1450) the charm appears in rhymed Middle English. This instruction reads: “suere ȝe me / By mary modir mylke so fre / There es no man þat euer hase nede / ȝe schall hym charme ⁊ aske no mede.” 58. Manuscripts that omit the injunction include that of Thomas Fayreford in British Library, Harley MS 2558, fol. 64v. Lea Olsan suggests that this may have been because he made his living practicing medicine and being paid for it. Olsan, “Three Good Brothers,” 57, charm transcribed at 65– 66. The injunction is also missing from

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of Jerusalem, therefore, we can imagine that the Roman army’s doctors must repeatedly and publicly proclaim the charm’s message of Christian healing power in order to perform it successfully. Likewise, their patients must acknowledge their belief in the Christian narrative in order to be successfully healed. The effective use of the charm not only provides phys­ ical healing to the Roman soldiers but also emphasizes their unity as a Christian community. Christine Chism has asserted that the Christians in the poem are bound to the Jews by the “socially productive” fantasy of revenge, through which they gain, among other things, a communal identity.59 “By defining, con­ fining, and liquidating the Jewish enemy,” she argues, “these newly con­ verted provincial Romans are able to heal their bodily and body­political maladies and consolidate their own disparate forces into a powerful and unified Christian empire.”60 As I have shown, the two references to charms in The Siege of Jerusalem contribute significantly to this larger goal. In this second example, when the charm used to heal the soldiers is understood as one that circulated widely in England when the poem was written and read, Chism’s argument for the creation of a communal identity can be extended beyond the poem itself. The use of a familiar charm forges a connection between the lives of the poem’s Roman soldiers and the lives of the late medieval English men and women who read or heard the poem. Through the connection provided by the charm, the poem’s readers can imagine themselves within the narrative of the battle in addition to placing themselves as members of the community created through the repetition of the charm’s purifying affirmation of shared belief. The literary use of this charm not only indicates its wide currency but also demonstrates the importance of understanding its words: something that seems to have been less important for written charms.

“Writ þes lettres in parchemyn”: The Uses of Written Charms and Unknown Words in Late Medieval England Although the efficacious words of spoken charms gradually shifted toward English, the efficacious words of written charms did not. There seems to the English version of the charm in Durham University Library, MS Cosin V.IV.8, fol. 30r– v, and from the Latin version in Bodleian Library, MS Douce 84, fol. 12r, both from the fifteenth century. 59. Christine Chism, Alliterative Revivals (Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press, 2011), 156. 60. Chism, Alliterative Revivals, 156.

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have been little attempt to widen access to the meanings of efficacious text. Only in exceptional cases did the powerful words of written charms use vernacular languages (box 4.4). Instead, they used Latin, unknown words, and transliterated Greek or Hebrew words familiar from the liturgy. Their reluctance to use English is perhaps surprising, given the dissemination of vernacular Bibles in the late Middle Ages. Alastair Minnis has argued that “the superiority of Holy Scripture seems to survive its vernacular transmigrations.”61 The evidence of written charms, however, hints that vernacular transmigrations were welcomed only for certain uses of biblical text, while Latin retained its superior status elsewhere. The preference for Latin in written charms remains even when the efficacious text of the charm draws a parallel between past and present events, a technique com­ mon to many of the vernacular spoken charms discussed above. Although written charms made no concessions to vernacular readers, they did move away from the deliberately obscure characters that were used during the Anglo­Norman period. Only two of the late medieval recipe books I have examined recommend the use of nonalphabetic char­ acters for medical purposes: one in a charm for childbirth, and one to promote conception.62 The charm for conception uses symbols that are largely drawn from the standard alphabet, with the addition of boxed crosses, although the text describes the symbols as “caracteres.”63 Late medieval charms also make less frequent use of unknown words or of the strings of letters that, in earlier centuries, created the impression of an abbreviated text.64 It therefore seems that texts lying at the boundaries of alphabetic writing, which had produced a range of new charms in the pe­ riod following the Norman Conquest, were losing their perceived power. Among the manuscripts in my sample, drawn or written symbols for 61. Alastair Minnis, “Aggressive Chaucer: Of Dolls, Drink, and Dante,” in The Medieval Translator: Traduire Au Moyen Age 16, ed. Pieter De Leemans and Michèle Goyens (Turnhout: Brepols, 2017), 358. 62. British Library, Additional MS 33996, fol. 153v, and Royal MS 15 A viii, fol. 44r. Three other recipes use symbols for invisibility or to acquire a woman’s love. These can be found in British Library, Cotton MS Julius D viii, fol. 125v, and Bodleian Library, MS Wood empt. 18, fols. 31v and 34r. 63. British Library, Additional MS 33996, fol. 153v. 64. Examples of letter strings appear in Cambridge, Magdalene College, Pepys MS 878, p. 181 (two examples); Durham University Library, MS Cosin V.V.9, fol. 119v; British Library, Additional MSS 12195, fol. 124v and 33996, fol. 133r; Cotton MS Julius D viii, fol. 79r (two examples); Harley MS 1680, fol. 7v; Royal MS 15 A viii, fol. 44r; and Sloane MS 3466, fol. 48r– v; Wellcome Library, MS 404, fol. 17r; and Bodleian Library, MS Ashmole 1447, part 1, p. 1 (two examples); MS Digby 88, fol. 78v; MS Douce 84, fols. 4r and 8v; MS Wood empt. 18, fol. 9r.

Box 4.4 Textual Charms in the Vernacular caMBridge university LiBrary, Ms additionaL 9308, foLs. 22v– 23r (ca. 1390– 1410) A charm for þe hawe in þe ye. In nomine + patris + ⁊ filii + ⁊ spiritus sancti + amen. y coniure þe hawe in þe name of þe fader ⁊ of þe sone ⁊ of þe holy gost þat fro þis time foreward þu neuer greue more þe ye of þis man. N. + ihesu + crist if it be þi wil draw out þis hawe ⁊ clense þe ye of N þi seruaunt as verilich ⁊ as sothlich as þu clensedest þe ye of tobie + agios + agios + agios + sanctus + sanctus + sanctus. + christus vincit + christus regnat + christus imperat + christus sine fine viuit ⁊ regnat In nomine patris ⁊ c. þis charm schal be seid thries ouer þe ye ⁊ at eche time a pater noster ⁊ an Aue ⁊ writ þis charm in a scrowe ⁊ bere it. ⁊ vse þat medecyn þat is a fore write for þe perle in þe ye. ⁊ also þe ious of celidoine is god to put in þe ye for þe hawe.

The non-English portions of the charm read “In the name + of the Father + and of the Son + and of the Holy Spirit +” and “+ Holy + Holy + Holy + Holy + Holy + Holy + Christ conquers + Christ reigns + Christ commands + Christ lives and reigns without end, in the name of the Father, etc.” The charm, which uses English, Latin, and Greek, should be said three times over the affected eye, then written down and carried. In other examples the text should be bound to the patient’s eye. Other versions of this charm appear in British Library, Sloane MS 1314, fol. 14r– v and Additional MS 33996, fol. 90r; Wellcome Library, MS 542, fol. 6r; Bodleian Library, MS Wood empt. 18, fol. 1r– v; and York Minster Library, MS XVI.E.32, fols. 158v– 59r.

gLasgoW university LiBrary, Ms hunter 339, foL. 2v (ca. 1400– 1500) Peter had in his belly wormes three / the white did bite the flesh free / the red did sucke the bloud full fast / the blacke did gnawe the bone at last / three wordes then spake Christ anone / all the reumes in thy belly shall be gone & soe shall thyne / N roulen this & hange it about the pacients neck. / In the name of the father of the soune & amen.

This charm came to my attention in Lea T. Olsan’s paper “The Worms in the Word Charm” at the Verbal Charms and Narrative Genres conference of the ISFNR, Budapest, December 8– 10, 2017. I am very grateful to her for sharing this transcription of the text. I have not had the opportunity to examine the rest of this manuscript. (continued)

Box 4.4 (continued ) British LiBrary, additionaL Ms 33996, foL. 215r (ca. 1425– 1500) for to stanche blode Take verveyn ⁊ stampe it ⁊ ley it were it bledith Also binde this verses about his necke Semper enim sanguis quo perfidus occidit anguis. Et sanguis eius precium seculi sint huius Ihesu criste ⁊ Seynt John went ouer flum jordan stonde blode ⁊ stint blode as did þe flode. þo Ihesu criste þer in ȝeode In nomine patris ⁊ filij ⁊ spiritus sancti Amen ⁊ dic iij pater noster ⁊ aue maria.

The Latin portion of this charm reads “For always the blood by which the treacherous serpent dies, and may its blood be the ransom of the world.” The final clause reads “In the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit, amen. And say three Pater Nosters and an Ave Maria.” The Latin may be corrupt: elsewhere in the manuscript the same phrase appears as a spoken charm, reading “Te per eum sanguis exiuit quo perfidus occidit anguis ⁊ sanguis cuius precium seculi fuit huius adiuro cessa nunc vena vale que repressa,” which can be translated as “Of this I adjure you, vein, through him from whom flowed the blood by which the treacherous serpent dies, and whose blood was the ransom of the world: cease now and be well, having been restrained” (fol. 133r).

yaLe center for British art, r486 .M43 1450, foL. 159r– v (ca. 1450– 1500) For rdyng of the nyght mare take a flynte stone þat hathe an hole thoroughe of hys awne growyng and honge hit ouer þe hors and wryght in a byl. In nomine patris ⁊ filij ⁊ spiritus sancti amen Sente Jorge oure lady knyght he walkyd day and nyght tyl þat he founde that foule wyghte and whan that he her founde he he beet and eke bounde trewly ther her trowethe sche plyght that se wolde nat come with in the nyght with In vij roddys of londe þe space ther of as sente Jorge named was iij tymes sente Jorge sent Jorge Sent George and let thys scrypture be hongyd in þe hors mane.

The Latin portion of this charm reads “In the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit.” In some other versions of this charm, such as in Oxford, Bodleian Library, MS Wood D 8, fol. 127r– v, the Latin words are written down while the English is spoken.

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protection and healing— such as the circular seals in the thirteenth­ century Canterbury amulet discussed in chapter 3— are less likely to be found in later medieval medical books. Such symbols do still appear in medical contexts: there is a complex talisman against pestilence in the late fifteenth­century medical manuscript Wellcome Library, MS 404, fol. 30v, for example, and a seal against thunderstorms appears in the collection of recipes in the British Library’s Royal MS 17 B xlviii, fol. 1r.65 Small seals promising protection and healing also persist in the context of prayers and images that circulate alongside promises of amuletic protection, as in Brit­ ish Library, Harley Roll T. 11. This manuscript roll, copied in the fifteenth century, is 122.2 cm long and just 8.5 cm wide, making it easily portable when closed.66 It contains numerous amuletic images, including a cross whose length, multiplied by fifteen, gives the height of Christ; a picture of the three nails with which Christ was crucified, which promises to protect anyone who carries it devoutly; the measurement of the length of the side wound of Christ, which offers similar protection; and eight magical seals— circular diagrams which, in some cases, are said to represent text. In many ways, the seals in the Harley roll resemble those in the Can­ terbury amulet in their position within circles, their branching forms, and their frequent use of cross shapes. Unlike the seals of the Canterbury am­ ulet, however, they show little interest in engaging the reader’s sense of textuality through alphabetic forms. For example, one seal in the Harley roll is accompanied by an inscription reading “+ hoc est nomen domini quicumque secum portauerit saluus erit” (this is the name of the Lord; whoever carries it with him will be safe; fig. 4.1).67 The “name” is a cross pattée in green, outlined in red, with a small cross potent in green placed in the top left corner and attached to the center of the main cross by a narrow green line. Despite the claim that the seal represents a word, the 65. Clarck Drieshen, “Magical Seals in an English Book of Hours,” British Library Medieval Manuscripts Blog, July 18, 2019, https://blogs.bl.uk/digitisedmanuscripts /2019/07/magical-seals -in -an -english-book-of-hours .html. Pseudo- Solomonic seals, sometimes containing text, also continue to appear in the context of ritual magic, although that is beyond the scope of this study. 66. Kathryn M. Rudy, “Kissing Images, Unfurling Rolls, Measuring Wounds, Sewing Badges and Carrying Talismans: Considering Some Harley Manuscripts through the Physical Rituals They Reveal,” Electronic British Library Journal (2011), https:// www.bl.uk/eblj/2011articles/article5.html. For more on this roll, see Curt F. Bühler, “Prayers and Charms in Certain Middle English Scrolls,” Speculum 39, no. 2 (April 1964): 270– 78, and W. Sparrow-Simpson, “On a Magical Roll Preserved in the British Museum,” Journal of the British Archaeological Association 48 (1892): 38– 54. 67. British Library, Harley Roll T. 11, recto. The seal is at the bottom right in the first set of seals in the roll.

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Fig. 4.1 British Library, Harley Roll T. 11, recto. Photograph: © The British Library Board.

scribe has made no attempt to suggest alphabetic shapes. Only three of the eight seals, excluding one that contains legible Latin words, include shapes that could be read as letters of the alphabet.68 The others consist of crosses and curves with no alphabetic significance. Of the three, one is surrounded by an inscription reading “+ hoc nomen [. . .] contra tempes­ tates et tonitrua” (this name [. . .] against storms and thunder; fig. 4.2).69 This seal consists of a cross with symbols at the end of each branch. The 68. British Library, Harley Roll T. 11, recto. The legible text inside the seal, which is at the bottom left of the first set of seals, reads “dominus Ihesus christus med[iet] tetragramaton” (possibly meaning “May the Lord Jesus Christ mediate the tetragrammaton”). The text is faded and the reading of “med[iet]” is uncertain. 69. British Library, Harley Roll T. 11, recto. The seal is at the top right in the first set of seals in the roll.

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F ig. 4.2 British Library, Harley Roll T. 11, recto. Photograph: © The British Library Board.

bottom symbol could perhaps be read as a capital A, and the top as a P or D. The other seals— one to cause your enemies to fear you and one for protection against demons— are described as signs (signum) rather than as words with semantic meaning. Other late medieval signa for protection similarly tend to draw their visual power from cross or star shapes rather than from the deliberate manipulation of the alphabet.70 Whereas in ear­ lier centuries some seals seem to have made use of letterforms to prompt the reader toward a sense that the symbols could be decipherable as texts,

70. See, for example, the seals in British Library, Stowe MS 16, fols. 151r and 152r, or the seal in British Library, Royal MS 17 B xlviii, fol. 1r, both depicted in Drieshen, “Magical Seals.”

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these later medieval examples make little effort to invite an attempt at reading. The apparent shift away from charms that used illegible texts of all kinds may indicate that condemnations of incomprehensible text were working or simply that the appeal of unreadable text waned as literacy increased. Theologians consistently condemned the use of charms con­ taining incomprehensible text or strange symbols.71 Their main concern was that practitioners might accidentally call upon demonic forces by us­ ing unknown words. Working from the evidence of medieval penitential manuals, Catherine Rider has shown that priests were instructed to give more severe penances for using charms to people who were not well ed­ ucated and who therefore could not be trusted to recognize words that might communicate with demons or other evil spirits.72 Charm “texts” made up of unreadable characters or semilegible shapes may have come under greater suspicion, even as increasing literacy allowed more people to understand the words written on amulets. This concern seems to have come not only from religious authorities, who had condemned the use of unknown characters for centuries, but also from the authors of medical books. One example will serve to illustrate the complex relationship between reading, understanding, and access to efficacious words as it appears in medical writing. In John of Gaddesden’s early fourteenth­century treatise Rosa medicinae, there is a recommendation for a charm to cure spasms. The version of the text in the British Library’s Additional MS 33996, cop­ ied in the fifteenth century and identified as “rosula medicine secundum Magistrum. Johannem. de Gatesdene” (The little rose of medicine accord­ ing to Master John of Gaddesden) reads: Carmen contra crampam + thebal et guth guttanay: ista nomina scribantur cum cruce in pergameno et quamdiu has litteras super se portauerit non nocebit ei crampa nec spasmus quod idem est. istud est sine ratione tamen expertum est et nisi sint nomina alicuius sancti vel 71. See, for example, Thomas Aquinas, Summa Theologiæ (London: Blackfriars with Eyre & Spottiswode / New York: McGraw-Hill, 1964– 81), 2a2ae. 96, 4, vol. 40: 76– 77. Dives and Pauper, composed between 1405 and 1410, advises its lay audience that anyone wearing text other than “Pater noster, Aue, or þe crede or holy wordis of þe gospel or of holy writ,” or with any symbol other than the cross, will be damned. Priscilla Heath Barnum, ed., Dives and Pauper, EETS OS 275 (London: Oxford University Press for the Early English Text Society, 1976), 1.i.158 (Commandment I, xxxiv). 72. Catherine Rider, Magic and Religion in Medieval England (London: Reaktion Books, 2012), 61– 64.

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sanctorum aliquorum non adhibeo fidem tunc enim erit carmen domino nostro in cuius virtute omnia sanantur.73 Charm against a cramp + thebal and guth guttanay: these words should be written with a cross on parchment and as long as one carries these letters on one’s person, one will not be harmed by cramp or by spasm (which is the same thing). This is without reason, yet it has been tested, and unless they are the names of a certain saint or certain saints I do not put faith in them. For only then [i.e., if the names are the names of saints] will it be a charm in our Lord, by whose power all things are healed.

The Latin is awkwardly written, but it seems to argue that if the words of the charm are the names of saints, then it functions by means of God’s healing power. However, if they are not the names of saints, then the source of the charm’s power is unclear and it should not be trusted. The question of the charm’s legitimacy and the status of its unknown words is thus written into the instructions themselves. Gaddesden asks the charm’s user to consider the meaning of the words before copying them. The bur­ den of verifying the legitimacy of the words therefore falls not on Gad­ desden as the composer of the text but on whoever might read and use it. In one early fifteenth­century copy of works by the surgeon John Ard­ erne (d. in or after 1377) is a recommendation for a similar charm against spasms, claiming that it had even helped a man whose spasms drew his head backward to his neck “like a crossbow” so that he almost starved to death.74 In this version, the charm includes efficacious words in Latin as well as the three unknown words “Thebal Guthe Guthanay.” The charm reads: .+. Thebal. +. Guthe. +. Guthanay +. In nomine patris + ⁊ filii + ⁊ spiritus sancti Amen. +. Ihesus nazarenus +. Maria +. Iohannes + Michael +. Gabriel. +. Raphael +. verbum caro factum est +.75

73. British Library, Additional MS 33996, fols. 210v, 170v. 74. John Arderne, Treatises of Fistula in Ano: Haemorrhoids, and Clysters, EETS OS 139, ed. D’Arcy Power (London: Richard Clay & Sons Ltd, 1910; Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1968), 103. For the date of the treatise, see p. xii. 75. British Library, Sloane MS 2002, fol. 80v. The charm is edited, albeit with inaccuracies, in Arderne, Treatises of Fistula, 104. For more on Arderne himself, see Peter Murray Jones, “Arderne, John (b. 1307/8, d. in or after 1377),” Oxford Dictionary of National Biography (2004), https://doi.org/10.1093/ref:odnb/636.

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.+. Thebal. +. Guthe. +. Guthanay +. In the name of the Father + and of the Son + and of the Holy Spirit + Amen. +. Jesus of Nazareth +. Mary +. John + Michael +. Gabriel. +. Raphael +. the Word made flesh +.

After providing this text, Arderne instructs: Postea claudatur ista cedula ad modum vnius littere. vt non leuiter possit aperiri . . . Istud habeatur in reuerentia propter deum qui virtutem dedit verbis petris ⁊ herbis, ⁊ secrete seruetur. ne omnes noscant carmen ne forte virtutem datam a deo amittat. . . . Et nota quod ego solebam scribere carmen predictum cum litteris grecis ne a latinis perciperetur.76 Afterward, this document should be completely closed like a single letter, so that it cannot be opened easily. . . . It should be held in reverence on account of God, who gave power to words, stones, and herbs, and kept secretly to prevent everyone from learning the charm, in case by chance it should lose its God­given power. . . . And note that I usually write the aforementioned charm in Greek letters, in case it might be understood by Latinate people.

The example Arderne then provides omits the unknown words of the charm, gives the words “In nomine patris + ⁊ filii + ⁊ spiritus sancti” (In the name of the Father + and of the Son + and of the Holy Spirit) in normal writing, then transliterates the names of the saints into a corrupt form of Greek. Arderne’s double emphasis on hiding the words of the charm, both through physical concealment by sealing the document and through the unfamiliarity of the Greek alphabet, demonstrates their perceived impor­ tance. It also suggests that Arderne believed that some of his patients were literate enough to read, and perhaps to rewrite, the Latin words of the charm and that he wanted to prevent them from doing so.77 However, his concern 76. British Library, Sloane MS 2002, fols. 80v– 81r. Arderne, Treatises of Fistula, 103, gives the penultimate word of this sentence as “laicis,” meaning “the common people.” This is not the reading in Sloane MS 2002, but it may appear in other manuscripts consulted by the editor. 77. Some other charm-texts are protected from the patient’s prying eyes by the instruction that the patient should not even be aware that the charm is being used. Examples include written charms for childbirth in British Library, Additional MS 17866, fols. 40v– 41r and Beinecke Rare Book & Manuscript Library, Takamiya MS 46, fol. 38r, and charms for insomnia found in Cambridge University Library, MS Additional 9308, fol. 48v; Durham Cathedral Library, MS Hunter 100, fol. 107r, and Durham University Library, MS Cosin V.III.10, part C, fols. 30v and 38r; British Library, Additional MS 33996, fol. 150v, Harley MS 978, fol. 34v, Sloane MSS 475, fol. 26r,

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does not seem to be that people might harmfully misuse words they did not understand, since his “Greek” conceals the names of saints. Instead, he views the whole charm as something to be protected from public knowl­ edge, even among the educated, in case it should lose its efficacy. Arderne clearly believed that the power of the words came from God. However, their power was guaranteed not only by their relationship to God but also by their secrecy. In contrast to Gaddesden’s version, the words of Arderne’s charm were to be written in Greek letters, produced away from curious eyes, and the document they were written on was to be firmly sealed. Arderne believed the charm acted because of the God­ given properties of the words themselves. His claim that it would cease to function if its text were commonly known suggests that the text is a potent part of its working. Equally, it suggests that the charm’s function relies both on supernatural involvement and on the patient’s relationship with the text, which should be fundamentally passive. Patients should not look upon, try to read, or seek to understand the words of the charm; in short, they should not try to access its power in any way. That should remain exclusive to the practitioner. The same charm appears in the English adaptation and translation of the surgical treatise Philomena. This text was written by John Bradmore (d. 1412), an English court surgeon who is now most famous for extract­ ing an arrowhead lodged in the face of the future Henry V.78 Although Bradmore’s version is clearly related to Arderne’s, offering the same case studies of the charm’s success, Bradmore’s version of the charm treats its efficacious words somewhat differently.79 His unknown words consist of a string of mostly angular characters that he claims are Greek, represented below by an ellipsis. The unfamiliar alphabet will, he claims, protect the secrets of the words from being easily read. He instructs: scribe hec. tria. nomina in percameno videlicet [. . .] In nomine patris ⁊ filij. ⁊ spiritus sancti Amen. +. Ihesus. Maria. +. Johannes. +. Michael. +. Gabriel. +. Raphael. +. Verbum caro factum est. Ista. tria. verba and 3466, fol. 27v; and Bodleian Library, MS Digby 86, fol. 14v, and MS Douce 84, fol. 5v. In Wellcome Library, MS 542, fol. 12r, the same charm appears under the heading “[F]or a man þat may not speke for syke,” in which “speke” may be an error for “slepe.” 78. For more on Bradmore, see S. J. Lang, “John Bradmore and His Book Philomena,” Social History of Medicine 5, no. 1 (April 1992): 121– 30, and “Bradmore, John (d. 1412),” Oxford Dictionary of National Biography (2004), https://doi.org/10.1093 /ref:odnb/45759. 79. Sloane MS 2272, fol. 360r. One of the matching case studies, about an English knight using the charm in Milan, is edited in Arderne, Treatises of Fistula, 102.

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Fig. 4.3 British Library, Sloane MS 2272, vol. 2, fol. 360r. Photograph: © The British Library Board.

precedencia. scripta sunt litteris grecis ne a quolibet de leui percipiantur. ⁊ sunt idem quod Thebal. Guthe. Guthanay.80 Write these three names in parchment, namely [. . .] In the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit Amen + Jesus Maria + John + Michael + Gabriel + Raphael + the Word made flesh. The first three words are written in Greek letters lest they should be seen easily by anyone, and they are the same as Thebal Guthe Guthanay.

In this way, Bradmore separates the unknown words, transliterated into “Greek,” from the words in Latin. Although the characters in question are not Greek, they do have meaning. They transliterate the unknown words of the charm, with the beginning and end of the phrase and the end of the first word marked off by crosses (fig. 4.3). The characters that represent T, H, E, A, U, and Y are all recognizable as elaborated or adapted versions of the Roman alphabet. The character for G, meanwhile, somewhat resembles a Greek capital gamma. In total, the characters can be decoded as: “+ . T . H . E . B . A . L . + . . G . U . T . H . G . U . T . H . A . H . A . Y . + .” As Bradmore gives the unknown words not only in “Greek” but also in Roman script (“sunt idem quod Thebal. Guthe. Guthanay” [they are the same as Thebal Guthe Guthanay]), they can be read by any educated person who has access to the full recipe. It therefore seems clear that Bradmore envisioned such a reader using these powerful names responsibly. His instructions do not suggest that it would be harmful for patients to see the Latin text or the transliterated 80. The charm appears in British Library, Sloane MS 2272, vol. 2, fol. 360r, which is Bradmore’s own copy of the text. The charm is edited in S. J. Lang, “The Philomena of John Bradmore and Its Middle English Derivative: A Perspective on Surgery in Late Medieval England” (PhD diss., University of St. Andrews, 1998), 56– 57.

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unknown words; neither does he suggest that inappropriate sight of the words might reduce their efficacy. However, it is clear that he thought the significance of the unknown words— as opposed to the Latin— should be hidden from general sight, even though he does not say that the charm should be sealed. In the three versions of the charm, therefore, we can see the range of ways in which writers in the fourteenth and fifteenth centuries began to limit access to powerful unknown words, whether because of fear for their continued efficacy or because of doubt about their legitimacy. Concerns about unknown words were not limited to efficacious text. The use of unknown words in spoken charms also declined, and occasion­ ally scribes noted anxieties about what the spoken words might mean.81 A clear example can be found in Cambridge, Magdalene College, Pepys MS 1661, written in the first half of the fifteenth century and containing a Middle English surgical treatise attributed to Theodoric and Lanfranc— presumably the renowned surgeons Theodoric of Lucca and Lanfranc of Milan. One of the recipes in this treatise is a ritual, allegedly drawn from the practices of Ptolemy’s Almagest, that promises to heal a fester­ ing wound.82 As one part of the ritual, the practitioner is instructed to gather the herb agrimony while saying the words “poynt ȝemon ȝeberam ȝaual abnari paraclitus.”83 The ritual is introduced with the note that it is “an experiment y preued thow we ne lyȝe no fey þer to as vs semeþ more þat it be whycchecraft þanne wele dom.”84 In saying that the charm is a proven experiment— in this context, something that has been shown by experience to work— the scribe suggests that he believes the remedy will be effective. In saying that he has no faith in it, then, he is presumably re­ ferring not to its practical outcome but to his concern that it functions by witchcraft. The efficacy of the charm is an issue distinct from its legitimacy. Anxiety about the use of unknown or unfamiliar words, whether spo­ ken or written, was evidently more widespread in the later Middle Ages than in earlier centuries. The types of charms that theologians had ex­ pressed concern about since the time of Augustine became substantially less common in the surviving manuscripts that I have examined. Perhaps we may infer a concern that, as literacy increased, more people were gain­ 81. Thirty-five out of 444 charms with spoken components from the period 1350– 1500, or just under 8 percent, use unknown words, as compared to 43 out of 261 from the period 1100– 1350, or just over 16 percent. 82. “And of the praptike of almagest an experiment y preued.” Cambridge, Magdalene College, Pepys MS 1661, p. 82. 83. Cambridge, Magdalene College, Pepys MS 1661, p. 83. 84. Cambridge, Magdalene College, Pepys MS 1661, p. 82.

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ing the ability to read without achieving the level of education that would put them above suspicion. Parish priests were instructed that charm us­ ers with more education were more likely to understand (and avoid) the unknown words of charms and were therefore to be trusted more. This attitude, as we have seen, was reflected in the works of educated practi­ tioners who sought to hide elements of their remedies from their patients. However, the recipes these practitioners provide simultaneously give the words of the charm and the method for hiding them. The “Greek” letters are opaque to the uneducated and therefore guard against misuse, but the verbal meaning behind the “Greek” is known to the practitioner, even if the source of the words’ power is not necessarily clear. This differentiates them from many of the earlier uses of unknown characters, in which the meaning is unknown to both patient and practitioner.

Chaucer’s Criseyde as Embodied Charm The example of The Siege of Jerusalem demonstrates the wide currency of charms in later medieval England as well as the extent to which medieval audiences may have been expected to know and understand the words of spoken charms. Turning to another literary example, however, we can see that the same was not necessarily true of efficacious text. Chaucer’s Troilus and Criseyde, written in the 1380s, includes references to both spoken and written charms. Pandarus, Criseyde’s uncle, carries letters between his niece and his friend Troilus, who is desperately in love with her. The first of Criseyde’s letters, in response to Troilus’s initial missive, may be described as the first “charm” to appear in the poem. When Pandarus brings it to his lord and friend, he finds Troilus in bed, lying “in a traunce, / Bitwixen hope and dark desesperaunce” (book 2, lines 1306– 7).85 Pandarus regards the letter as a cure for the young man’s lovesickness and therefore presents it as a written charm. As Pandarus enters, he tells Troilus: Thou shalt arise and see A charme that was sent right now to thee, The which can helen thee of thyn accesse, If thou do forth­with al thy besinesse. ( bo ok 2, line s 1313– 16)

85. All quotations are taken from Geoffrey Chaucer, The Riverside Chaucer, ed. Larry D. Benson, 3rd ed. (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2008).

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Pandarus thus suggests that Criseyde’s letter should heal Troilus through the power of its text, in the same way a written charm was generally sup­ posed to function. In making this claim, Pandarus treats the actual words of the letter as unimportant. He tells Troilus to look on “al this blake” (book 2, line 1320), an instruction that both Martha Rust and Jennifer Summit interpret as linking the black ink of the letter to the black dress Criseyde wears when she first appears in the poem, and thus to Criseyde herself.86 Without re­ jecting this reading, I suggest that Pandarus’s emphasis on the presence of ink on the parchment rather than on the letter’s communicative meaning also relates to the letter’s alleged status as a charm: just as written charms might work without being read, so, he believes, should the letter. In emphasizing the presence of Criseyde’s words rather than their meaning, Pandarus assumes that the material object will of itself be suf­ ficient to cure Troilus’s ailment. It is a charm only while its text remains unread. Troilus, however, reads the letter— thus rendering it unsuccessful as a charm. Instead of helping him, it increases his suffering, precisely because he tries to find meaning in its words: where Pandarus interprets the text too little, Troilus interprets it too much. The letter Criseyde has written does not involve any warm reciprocation of Troilus’s love. Instead, She thonked him of al that he wel mente Towardes hir, but holden him in honde She nolde nought, ne make hir­selven bonde In love, but as his suster, him to plese, She wolde fayn to doon his herte an ese. ( bo ok 2, line s 1221– 25)

Troilus ignores the negative aspects of this letter and reads it until he is able to understand it as a positive sign, holding “to the more worthy part” (line 1328) of Criseyde’s message. This serves to increase rather than quell his burning desire, since 86. Martha Dana Rust, Imaginary Worlds in Medieval Books: Exploring the Manuscript Matrix, The New Middle Ages (New York: Palgrave Macmillan, 2007), 101; Jennifer Summit, Lost Property: The Woman Writer and English Literary History, 1380– 1589 (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 2000), 55. Summit further argues that Criseyde is described throughout the poem in terms of the materiality of writing and of the difficulty of textual interpretation (pp. 55– 57).

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as we may alday our­selven see, Through more wode or col, the more fyr; Right so encrees hope, of what it be, Therwith ful ofte encreseth eek desyr; Or, as an ook cometh of a litel spyr, So through this lettre, which that she him sente, Encresen gan desyr, of which he brente. ( bo ok 2, line s 1331– 37)

Pandarus, then, treats the letter as a material object with healing pow­ ers, while Troilus sees its inscribed text as malleable, communicating whatever he would like it to communicate. By introducing the letter as a charm, Pandarus presents it as having efficacy in its own right, thereby minimizing his niece’s role as correspondent. Instead of allowing Criseyde to tell Troilus how she feels about his declaration of love, the letter be­ comes, in Pandarus’s view, an object that should act without being read or properly understood. Troilus’s reading of the letter diminishes Criseyde’s agency just as much, but for a different reason, as he ignores her actual message in favor of his own interpretation. Each represents a different failure of reading for the purpose of communication, provoked by the idea that the letter should act as an efficacious text. The textual “charm” of Criseyde’s letter, as imagined by Pandarus, con­ trasts with the spoken charms invoked by Troilus’s other well­wishers at a later stage in the narrative. Pandarus advises Troilus to dine at the house of his brother Deiphebus, where he will pretend to be suffering from some unspecified illness in order to impress Criseyde, who will also be present and will take it as lovesickness. The other guests are moved by pity, until every wight gan waxen for accesse A leche anoon, and seyde, ‘In this manere Men curen folk; this charme I wol yow lere.’ But ther sat oon, al list hir nought to teche, That thoughte, best coude I yet been his leche. ( bo ok 2, line s 1578– 82)

The charms that Deiphebus’s guests have in mind are presumably common spoken charms they know by heart.87 There is no indication here that any of the guests actually try to use their charms on Troilus, nor any suggestion 87. Lea T. Olsan, “Charms in Medieval Memory,” in Charms and Charming in Europe, ed. Jonathan Roper (New York: Palgrave Macmillan, 2004), 59.

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that such charms would work. What does happen is that Criseyde secretly identifies herself as the cure that Troilus needs. She listens to her com­ panions’ proposed remedies and their praise for Troilus with an emotion approaching pleasure, “For who is that ne wolde hir glorifye, / To mowen swich a knight don live or dye?” (book 2, lines 1593– 94). Thus Criseyde takes on the expected healing ability of medical recipes and charms. Indeed, Criseyde is the living embodiment of the requisite charm for Troilus’s ailment— for medieval medical authorities declared (with scant regard for priestly sensibilities) that having sex with the object of one’s desires was a highly effective cure for lovesickness.88 Whereas the written “charm” of Criseyde’s letter (as presented by Pandarus) placed her at a distance and removed her agency in the love affair, Criseyde’s physical presence in Deiphebus’s house gives her a measure of control over its progression once more. Shortly afterward, she agrees to accept Troilus’s love and kisses him for the first time (book 3, lines 159– 61, line 182): al­ though the spoken charms are not directed toward her, they promote her understanding of her role in the romance and so bring Troilus the cure he desires. The references to charms therefore reveal the nuances of the lovers’ relationship, in particular demonstrating the power dynamics be­ tween them.

Charm or Medicine: The Status of Written and Spoken Words Throughout the medieval period, written and spoken charms shared cer­ tain assumptions about the power of the word, and they sometimes re­ sponded to the same cultural pressures. However, efficacious speech and text seem, in other ways, to have developed separately. They used different languages, responded differently to linguistic change, and, despite some overlap, tended to treat different medical conditions. It is therefore worth returning to a more fundamental question about medieval attitudes to­ ward charms: namely, whether spoken and written charms were viewed as related kinds of verbal remedies, or whether their contrasting methods of accessing the physical power of certain words separated them in the minds of their users. For at least some late medieval scribes, spoken and written charms ap­ pear to have been conceptually separate. The Wellcome Library’s MS 542 provides initial— and representative— evidence of this separation through the rubrics its scribe used to describe the remedies it contains. The manu­ 88. Mary Frances Wack, Lovesickness in the Middle Ages: The Viaticum and Its Commentaries (Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press, 1990), 89.

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script, in a neat hybrid hand on reasonably high­quality parchment, dates to the first quarter of the fifteenth century and appears, on linguistic grounds, to come from northwest Norfolk.89 I have identified twenty­two verbal remedies within the manuscript, as well as one remedy “[f]or prykyng in senuwes” that tells its user how to “bynde [the wound] up and charme it” without specifying the charms to be used.90 Spoken psalms also appear in two recipes for making “gratia dei,” but in both cases the words are recited to time the boiling of ingredients, not as an effective component of the recipe. For example, one recipe reads: “let it seth whil þow mayȝt seye þries þe psalme. Miserere mei deus,” emphasizing the time taken to say the psalm rather than the psalm itself.91 Of the twenty­two verbal remedies, nine require the use of written words, and the rest are to be spoken.92 The English rubrics in the first of the manuscript’s recipe collections demonstrate the distinction between written and spoken charms most clearly, as the Latin rubrics and headings later in the manuscript identify their remedies only by the disease they treat.93 The English collection contains eighteen verbal remedies, eight of which include a written ele­ ment. With only one exception, spoken remedies are explicitly identified in their rubrics as charms: fol. 6r fol. 6v fol. 8v

[A] charm for þe hawe in a mannys eye.94 [A] charm for þe tothache. [A] charm for þe blody flux.

89. M. Claire Jones, “Vernacular Literacy in Late-Medieval England: The Example of East Anglian Medical Manuscripts” (PhD diss., University of Glasgow, 2000), 165, 167. 90. Wellcome Library, MS 542, fol. 9v. 91. The recipes are found in Wellcome Library, MS 542, fols. 17v– 18v. The quotation is from fol. 18v. 92. The remedies that use written words are on fols. 4r, 12r (two examples), 13r (two examples), 13v, 17v, 81r, and 100r. Remedies using spoken words appear on fols. 6r, 6v, 8v, 9r (two examples), 10v, 13r, 14r– v, 14v (two examples), 15r, 80r, and 80v. 93. Wellcome Library, MS 542, fols. 1r– 20v. This text is edited in Javier Calle Martín and Miguel Angel Castaño-Gil, eds., A Late Middle English Remedy-Book (MS Wellcome 542, ff. 1r– 20v), Late Middle English Texts (Bern: Peter Lang, 2013). The three charms in the later section of the manuscript have the heading “Item ad emigraneaum siue capud vel adimpetus venarum” (fol. 80r) and the rubrics “[D]e fluxu sanguinis narium” (fol. 80v), “[D]e dolore dencium” (fol. 80v), and “[D]e morbo caduo” (fol. 100r). 94. In other manuscripts this charm includes both written and spoken components, but here the written elements are ambiguous. After giving the text of the charm, Wellcome 542 instructs: “Þis charme schal be said thries on o rowe and tak fayre white gynger. and par it. and tak a faire Weston and Rubbe þi gyngure þer vp oon in a lytil wyn tyl þat it be thykke of þi gyngure and wyth a fether wet in to þi lycour ⁊ do it on þe hawe. When þe pacient is leyd vp riȝt vp his bed and bynd to þe charme. Wyth

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A charm for to staunche blood. [A] charme on englysh. [A] god charm for erewyg or any worm þat is cropen in to a mannys heued at his ere schep tyke or any othir. [H]ere is a charm for þe toth ache. [T]his is a charm wyth oyle and wolle. [F]or to charme a wounde on englysch. [H]ere is a charme of seynt susanne. [A] charme a geyns theues.

The one use of efficacious spoken words that does not include the word charm in its rubric is a prognostication to determine whether a patient will live or die rather than a medical remedy. It is also the only use of spoken words not to have a rubric of its own. Instead, it appears as the third and final item in a list grouped under the heading “[F]or to wete: yf a man shal lyue or deye þat is seek ⁊ not wounded.”95 For the scribe of Wellcome MS 542, remedies in which words must be spoken fall clearly into the category of “charm.” Remedies in which words must be written down are slightly more complicated. The rubrics to the written charms read as follows: fol. 4r fol. 12r fol. 12r fol. 13r

[F]or þe feueres. [F]or man þat may not speke for syke. [F]or womman þat trauailes on childe. bynde þis writte til her riȝt thi. [H]ere is a charm for þe toth ache.96

þe scrowe. and vse þis medycine wyth inne ix tymes he schal be hol.” This might be compared with the same charm in British Library, Sloane MS 1314, fol. 14r–v, which reads in part: “þis charme schal be seyde thryes ouer þe Eye ⁊ at ilka tyme a pater noster ⁊ an aue. ⁊ write þis charme on a scrowe.” As the reference to the “scrowe,” omitted earlier, does appear at the end of the charm in Wellcome MS 542, it seems that the scribe of this manuscript or its exemplar may have missed a line in copying and changed the initial reference to a “scrowe” to “in o rowe” in order to preserve the sense of the text. 95. Wellcome Library, MS 542, fol. 10v. 96. It is ambiguous whether this charm should be considered as spoken or written. The charm consists of a prayer to St. Apollonia, which could be spoken against toothache. However, the prayer includes the sentence “orauit ad dominum vt quicumque nomen eius secum portauerit in terris dolorem non haberet in dentibus” (she prayed to the Lord that whoever carried her name with him on earth should not have pain in their teeth). This sentence is part of the spoken charm but could also be considered as an instruction to create a textual amulet.

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[F]or to charme þre oblees for þe feueris. [F]or þe fallyng yuel. [H]ere is a medicine for þe feueris.

While several of the written charms are identified only by the condition they treat, the three fever charms demonstrate some level of uncertainty about the correct classification of a textual charm. The first is listed simply by the condition, the second is called a charm, and the third is called a medicine. All three remedies seem to function in very similar ways. The similarities between the three fever remedies suggest that whereas spoken charms tended to be distinguished consistently from other medi­ cal instructions, written charms were not. This is true both in this manu­ script and, as I will show, in others. The first remedy instructs its reader: [F]or þe feueres. Tak þre obles and write. pater est alpha ⁊ oo. vpon oon. and make a poynte and let þe syke ete. þe firste day. þe secunday write on an oþer Oblee. filus est uita. ⁊ mak two poyntes : and gyf þe syke to ete. And write on þe thridde day. spiritus sanctus est remedium. And mak þre poyntes ⋮ and gyf þe syke to drynke. And þe first day let him seye a pater noster or he ete it. and þe secunday .ij. pater. and thrid day .iij. pater. and a Crede.97

The second remedy, identified as a charm, likewise involves writing words with Christian significance onto three hosts. As in the previous example, the hosts are to be eaten over the course of three days with accompanying prayers: [F]or to charme þre oblees for þe feueris. Tak þre obles ⁊ write þese wordes in þat on. + helye. + sabaoth in þe secunde. + Adonay + Alpha + ⁊ oo. + messias. ⁊ on þe thridde + pastor + Agnus + Fons. And ȝif þe seek to ete ilke a day oon. riȝt as þei be wreten. þe firste. þe firste day. þe secunde. þe secunde day. þe thridde þe thridde day. and at ilke an oble þat he etys. let him sey þre pater noster and þre Aue maria. ⁊ a crede.98

Since the word charm derives from the Latin carmen (“song” or “incanta­ tion”), its roots clearly lie in oral performance.99 Its usage here, to refer to 97. Wellcome Library, MS 542, fol. 4r. The Latin phrases can be translated as: “the Father is Alpha and Omega,” “the Son is life,” and “the Holy Spirit is the remedy.” 98. Wellcome Library, MS 542, fol. 13r. The phrases can be translated as: “+ Eli. + Lord of Hosts,” “+ Adonai + Alpha + and Omega. + Messiah,” and “+ Shepherd + Lamb + Source.” 99. OED Online (Oxford University Press, 2016), s. v. “charm, n.1.”

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a remedy involving a written text, demonstrates that the meaning of the term had broadened. This may indicate that efficacious text and speech were to some extent viewed as equivalent, even though the application of the term charm to written words is relatively uncommon. The third remedy, described as a medicine, is again similar, although it is to be written on sage leaves instead of hosts. It also adds a liturgical element by instructing the recovered patient to have masses said. In the manuscript copy, the words to be written are surrounded by boxes in red ink, represented here by parentheses: [H]ere is a medicine for þe feueris. Tak a sauge lef and wryte þer on. (christus tonat). and let þe syke ete þe first day. and sey a pater. noster ⁊ aue and a Crede. þe secunday write an oþer lef. (Angelus nunciat). And let þe seek ete it and sey. two. pater. noster. ⁊ a crede. Wryte on þe þridde lef. (Iohannes predicat). And let þe syke ete it. and sey. þre pater. noster. and þre Aue. and a crede. And when he is hol charge him þat he lete synge þre messes. þe first of þe holygost. þe secunde of seynt michel. þe thridde of seyn ion Baptist. And ay after when he heris nempne þe feueris. tak vp his hand and blysse him and sey Aue maria.100

In each of these cases, strikingly similar medical actions are described in different terms. For this scribe or the scribe of his exemplar, then, writ­ ten charms appear to have had a less coherent identity than spoken ones. While their verbal nature may have inclined them to be considered as charms, their appeal to materiality appears to have pushed them toward being seen as a medicine much like any other herbal remedy. In one tooth­ ache charm from the first half of the fourteenth century, it is even clear that the words themselves are understood as medicine: the practitioner is instructed, “Scribatur ista medicina” (Let this medicine be written).101 The stronger separation of spoken (rather than written) remedies from medicinal cures seems to be consistent across a range of manuscripts. I have examined the charm descriptions in four other remedy collections: Bodleian Library, MS Ashmole 1447, which contains thirty­five verbal remedies in three sections ranging in date from the late fourteenth to the end of the fifteenth centuries; York Minster Library, MS XVI.E.32 (fifty charms, ca. 1380– 1420); Durham University Library, MS Cosin V.IV.1 (twenty­four charms, ca. 1380– 1450); and British Library, Additional MS 100. Wellcome Library, MS 542, fol. 17v. The Latin phrases can be translated as: “Christ thunders,” “the angel announces,” and “John foretells.” 101. British Library, Additional MS 15236, fol. 61v.

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17866 (twenty charms, ca. 1350– 1400).102 In these manuscripts, spoken charms are twice as likely as written ones to be identified as a type of rem­ edy distinct from herbal medical treatment rather than simply as a remedy for a condition. In some cases the identification is made in the heading of the recipe, in others it is made within the recipe itself. Written remedies are rarely identified as such. Of the forty­nine charms that include written elements in these four recipe collections, only seven are identified in the heading of the recipe. One is described a “wrette,” one as a “figura,” one as a “medecynn,” and one twice, as both a “charme” and an “adiuracio.”103 Two— one of which also includes spoken words— are described as “carmen,” and another, also using spoken words, is a “charm.”104 Two more written charms are described within the body text of the recipe, one as a “carmen” and one as a “wryte.”105 Of the spoken charms, four are identified in their headings as medicine.106 In one of these, the spoken element is a ritual to be used when gathering the plants whose juice the patient will drink, meaning that there is also an herbal me­ dicinal aspect to the treatment. In every other case where spoken charms are identified by type rather than by condition, they are described either as “charm” or “carmen,” or by a more specific term that draws attention to their spoken nature.107 From this small sample of manuscripts, it appears that although both written and spoken words could be classified as charms, they were thought of somewhat differently. Spoken charms were identified fairly consistently 102. I have only included charms within the body text of the manuscripts, not those added to margins or blank spaces. 103. Bodleian Library, MS Ashmole 1447, part 2, p. 56 (“wrette”); British Library, Additional MS 17866, fols. 38v– 39r (“medecynn”); and York Minster Library, MS XVI.E.32, fols. 3r (“charme” and “ad Iuracio”) and 4v (“Figura”). 104. Durham University Library, MS Cosin V.IV.1, fol. 32r (“carmen”), and York Minster Library, MS XVI.E.32, fols. 142v (“carmen”) and 158v (“charm”). 105. York Minster Library, MS XVI.E.32, fol. 3v (“leye vpon hyre wombe þis wryte”) and Bodleian Library, MS Ashmole 1447, part 4, p. 244 (“Quicumque istud carmen super se portauerit” [Whoever carries this charm upon himself]). 106. Bodleian Library, MS Ashmole 1447, part 1, p. 17 (“medicina”), Durham University Library, MS Cosin V.IV.1, fol. 9r (“Medecyne”), and York Minster Library, MS XVI.E.32, fols. 128v (“Medycyns”) and 173v (“medecyn”). 107. In Bodleian Library, MS Ashmole 1447, spoken charms are described as an “orison” with which a patient may be “charmed” (part 1, pp. 17– 18), as a “coniwracion” (part 2, pp. 41–42), and as a “praer” or “prayer” (part 2, pp. 60, 64), while in York Minster Library, MS XVI.E.32, one charm is described first as an “Ad Iuracio pro febris” (Adjuration for fever) and later as “A charme for þe feueris” (fol. 3r).

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as charms, while there seems to have been no very consistent term for referring to written charms. More strikingly, spoken charms were signifi­ cantly more likely than written ones to be differentiated from nonverbal medical remedies. Perhaps by virtue of their physicality, written charms could be referred to as medicines or silently incorporated into herbal rem­ edy collections. Not only did spoken and written words develop along dif­ ferent trajectories, but they also seem to have been categorized differently by their medieval users.

Conclusion With this chapter, my study of the use of written and spoken charms in England reaches the end of the medieval period. In some ways, the use of charms remained similar to that in earlier periods: for instance, in the proportion of written and spoken charms recorded in the surviving man­ uscripts. However, the later Middle Ages also brought significant change. For the first time since the Norman Conquest, English became a common language of power in spoken charms. The types of efficacious text that were recorded also became more comprehensible to a greater number of users, at the same time as the authors of medical recipes started to express concern about access to efficacious texts or about the use of unknown words. Unknown words and unfamiliar characters fell out of favor in med­ ical recipe collections, and when strange characters did appear in medical books, they tended to be less dramatically strange than in previous cen­ turies. Although the use of such characters had long been condemned, it seems to have been the rise of lay literacy that drew the attention of medical writers to the phenomenon. Where strange characters contin­ ued in use, they were increasingly presented as methods of encryption to prevent knowledge from being accessed by people unequipped to deal with it. The key concern was to keep powerful characters away from those unable to discern which of them might be, as Lydgate describes, “markis off the deuel off helle, / ffirste ordeyned (who can conceyue) / Innocen­ tis to deisceyue.”108 The circulation of charms, then, was influenced not just by rising literacy rates and changing linguistic preferences but also by assumptions about who might be able to use powerful words safely. 108. John Lydgate, The Pilgrimage of the Life of Man, Englisht by John Lydgate, A.D. 1426, from the French of Guillaume de Deguileville, A.D. 1330, 1355, ed. F. J. Furnivall, EETS ES 77, vol. 1 (London: Published for the EETS by K. Paul, Trench, Trübner & Co., 1899), lines 18682– 84.

Conclu sion

The Changing Power of Words

This book has ranged from early medieval loricae to fifteenth­century in­ cantations and from the pagan letters imagined by Imma’s captors to the public humiliation of Roger Clerk for the crime of offering Johanna, in her illness, a parchment he could not read. Although the specifics of how charms were used may have changed, they were part of the very fabric of English culture throughout the medieval period— and well beyond it. The ubiquity of charms was not unproblematic during the Middle Ages. We have seen that some writers condemned charms as supersti­ tious while others feared the mysterious sources of their power. Still others dismissed their use with scorn: the Fasciculus morum, as noted earlier, imagines charms being used by “aliqua vetula misera” (some wretched old woman).1 Nevertheless, we have seen that throughout the medieval period the use of charms was quite standard medical practice, and charms appeared in manuscripts owned across a range of social classes. Doctors and theologians may have questioned their efficacy, but their ability to influence the physical world was not generally in doubt among the wider population. The corpus of over eleven hundred surviving examples of charm­texts used in writing this book attests to their widespread use, and I am con­ fident that thousands of further examples exist in manuscripts, yet to be discovered. But even this large corpus can scarcely give us a real sense of their influence. Given the oral nature of charms whose efficacious words had to be spoken, their impact would surely have been far wider than their extant written record can convey. Circulating both in oral tradition and in written form, charms were a pervasive— if sometimes controversial— feature of social and intellectual life. 1. Siegfried Wenzel, ed., Fasciculus morum: A Fourteenth-Century Preacher’s Handbook (University Park: Pennsylvania State University Press, 1989), 576– 77.

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The deep roots of medieval charm culture are evident not only from the surviving examples but also from the appearance of charms in literary texts. The written and spoken power that words could channel was re­ garded as a major force to be reckoned with, as the poems I have discussed attest in abundance. Sometimes literary works include specific incanta­ tions, but even when references to charms are brief, they assume that audiences would recognize charm practices. Paying attention to the role charms played in medieval England enables us to see those same texts in a new light. I have explored a few cases; many more will repay analysis, whether because their language is inspired by charms or because they use charms to advance plot and characterization. For example, in the Anglo­ French Vie de Seint Auban (ca. 1230– 1250), pagans are suspicious of the miracles performed by St. Alban and accuse him of discrediting their reli­ gion through charms and sorcery.2 Bevis of Hampton (ca. 1324) features a Saracen using an unspecified charm to commit a theft; later that century, the author of Sir Ferumbras also describes a Saracen thief using charms to steal a magic girdle— charming a locked door open, charming knights to sleep, and charming a candle alight to search for the item.3 In the B­text of Piers Plowman, written in the late 1370s, Haukyn— a notable sinner who represents the active life— prefers the healing charms provided by “the Soutere of Southwerk, or of Shordych Dame Emme” (XIII.340) to God or God’s words.4 Charms appear as a method of healing in Chaucer’s “Knight’s Tale” and of (comical) protection in his “Miller’s Tale.”5 Even if charms were not always looked on with approval, they were evidently commonplace in social parlance and reputation, seemingly as familiar to medieval audiences as nursery rhymes are to us today.6 2. Arthur Robert Harden, ed., La Vie de Seint Auban: An Anglo-Norman Poem of the Thirteenth Century, Anglo-Norman Texts 19 (Oxford: Basil Blackwell for the ANTS, 1968), 25, lines 885– 89. 3. Sidney J. Herrtage, ed., The English Charlemagne Romances, Part I: Sir Ferumbras, EETS ES 34 (London: published for the EETS, 1879), 79, lines 2410– 14; Ronald B. Herzman, Graham Drake and Eve Salisbury, eds., Four Romances of England (Kalamazoo, MI: Medieval Institute Publications, 1999), lines 4032– 33, https://www.lib .rochester.edu/camelot/teams/bevisfrm.htm. 4. William Langland, The Vision of Piers Plowman, ed. A. V. C. Schmidt, 2nd ed. (London: Everyman, 1995), 221. For more on this passage, see Rosanne Gasse, “Witchcraft and Sorcery in Piers Plowman,” Chaucer Review 55, no. 1 (2020): 92– 94. 5. Geoffrey Chaucer, The Riverside Chaucer, ed. Larry D. Benson, 3rd ed. (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2008), 61, lines 72 and 2712, lines 3477– 86. 6. The literary texts of other cultures also engaged with their own charm traditions. See, for example, Ryan D. Giles, Inscribed Power: Amulets and Magic in Early Spanish Literature (Toronto: University of Toronto Press, 2017).

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Charms brought the perceived power of language to bear on some of the deepest concerns of medieval individuals, be it seeking protection, guaranteeing favor, or healing the sick. As such, they deserve serious study across multiple disciplines. Their value for the study of medieval medical practice is evident. I have also argued for their multifaceted relevance in the criticism of literary texts. Their physical forms, sometimes written on cheese, bread, or leaves, or using blood as ink, extend our vision of the material variety of medieval text in ways scarcely found, if at all, else­ where.7 The tension between theological condemnations of charms as superstition on the one hand, and the involvement of priests and masses in the ritual performance of charms on the other, demonstrates that they can also provide evidence to help understand the complexities of medi­ eval religious rhetoric and practice. In these brief final pages, however, I focus on some wider questions about textuality, language, and access to supernatural power that this survey of medieval English charm culture has provoked.

Written and Spoken Words There are two key questions that relate charms to the study of writing and speech. First, how can attention to the difference between written and spoken words help us to understand medieval charms? And second, how can medieval English charms help us to understand the perceived differ­ ences between spoken and written words? Here we gain perhaps unique insight into medieval assumptions concerning words as significant (and signifying) sounds and words as inscriptions. It has generally been accepted that written charms and textual amulets developed from spoken incantations. Christopher A. Faraone, discussing the transformation of Greek amulets in the Roman period, finds that the addition of inscriptions to powerful shapes signaled “a major transforma­ tion of prayers, incantations, and other orally performed speech acts into text.”8 In the Roman imperial context from which his evidence is drawn, most of the comprehensible texts found on amulets “have clear anteced­ ents in traditional Greek incantations and prayers— speech acts, which also continue to be performed orally long after they begin to be written 7. For more on the materiality of written charms, see Katherine Storm Hindley, “The Materiality of Manuscript Charms in Late-Medieval England: Ink and Writing Surface,” Journal of the Early Book Society 23 (2020): 75– 94. 8. Christopher A. Faraone, The Transformation of Greek Amulets in Roman Imperial Times (Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press, 2018), 177.

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down.”9 Strikingly, however, this situation in which the same powerful words appeared in both spoken and written forms is not replicated in the charms of medieval England. In contrast to the Roman amulets, in the medieval English context it is clear that written charms were only rarely viewed as a direct extension of an oral genre. When the same charm­words appear in both spoken and written form, they are usually short, common devotional phrases, such as “Christus vincit, Christus regnat, Christus imperat” (Christ conquers, Christ reigns, Christ commands), or the names of saints.10 The name of Veronica, for example, appears in both spoken and written charms against bleeding (box 1.1). However, longer combinations of phrases or whole charms rarely circulate in both spoken and written forms. The exceptions are charms where the powerful words were to be said aloud and written down within the same ritual, rather than phrases that in different circumstances might be used either in writing or in speech. In one charm for childbirth, the written charm is read to the woman three times before being placed on her abdomen, while a charm for fistula should be read three times into the patient’s ear before being hung around his or her neck.11 The remaining exceptions of which I am aware are charms for diseases of the eye. One charm to treat a hawe (or growth) in the eye, surviving at least from the second half of the fourteenth century onward, instructs the practitioner that its words “schal be seid thries ouer þe ye . . . ⁊ writ þis charm in a scrowe ⁊ bere it.”12 Another, for macula— a cataract 9. Faraone, Transformation, 178. 10. The “Christus vincit” formula is discussed in detail in Kantorowicz, Ernst H., Laudes regiae: A Study in Liturgical Acclamations and Medieval Ruler Worship (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1958). It appeared in litanies from at least the 780s (p. 21). The phrase appears in multiple written charms, including against animal disease in British Library, Additional MS 17866, fol. 41r; for childbirth in Cambridge University Library, MS Additional 9308, fols. 49r– 50r; to treat the falling evil in York Minster Library, MS XVI.E.32, fols. 142v– 43r; and for fever in British Library, Egerton MS 833, fol. 12v. It is used, for example, in spoken charms for childbirth in Bodleian Library, MS Digby 88, fol. 3v; against elves and fantasies in British Library, Harley MS 273, fol. 213v; to treat the falling evil in Bodleian Library, MS Ashmole 1447, part 4, p. 238; for fever in Bodleian Library, Rawlinson MS C 814, fol. 84v; and for toothache in Cambridge, Corpus Christi College, MS 308, p. 17. 11. British Library, Sloane MS 146, fol. 30r– v; Durham University Library, MS Cosin V.IV.1, fol. 32r. 12. Cambridge University Library, MS Additional 9308, fols. 22v– 23r. The same charm also appears in British Library, Additional MS 33996, fol. 90r, and Sloane MS 1314, fol. 14r–v; Wellcome Library, MS 542, fol. 6r; Bodleian Library, MS Wood empt. 18, fol. 1r–v; and York Minster Library, MS XVI.E.32, fols. 158v– 59r.

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or spot in the eye— gives similar instructions.13 In these examples the whole charm is spoken aloud and also written out and worn, suggesting that written words were used in these exceptional cases, as in imperial Rome, to make the power of impermanent spoken charms endure.14 However, a more common strategy for extending the duration of spo­ ken charms was to say the powerful words over physical objects without making use of inscriptions, as in gathering rituals for herbs. For example, dozens of charm­copies dating from across the medieval period recom­ mend preventing wounds from festering by using spoken words to charm a lead plate inscribed with crosses.15 This created a long­lasting physical amulet without using written words. A decision to use written words was not simply a matter of wanting to prolong the effect of a charm but instead drew on the perceived power of text itself. The separation of writing and speech in charm practice is further re­ inforced by the fact that many common motifs of spoken charms never occur in written form. For example, in my sample there are forty­two charms against bleeding that refer to the legend of Longinus, the soldier who was said to have inflicted the wound in Christ’s side at the Crucifix­ ion. The charms are recorded in English, French, and Latin and date from the thirteenth century onward.16 All are spoken, none written— although 13. Cambridge, Corpus Christi College, MS 388, fol. 9r, and Bodleian Library, MS Auct. F.5.31, fol. 64v. 14. Faraone, Transformation, 186. 15. Wound charms using a lead plate appear in Cambridge, Corpus Christi College, MSS 388, fols. 29v and 31v, and 405, vol. 4, fol. 124r, and Magdalene College, Pepys MS 878, pp. 154– 55; Columbia, University of Missouri, Ellis Library, Special Collections, Fragmenta Manuscripta 175, fol. 1v; Durham University Library, MSS Cosin V.III.10, fol. 30r, and V.III.11, fol. 77v; British Library, Additional MS 15236, fols. 31v– 32v, Egerton MS 833, fol. 9v, Harley MS 273, fol. 85v, Sloane MSS 431, fols. 9v– 10r, and 3466, fol. 55r– v; Bodleian Library, MS Bodley 761, fol. 21r; and York Minster Library, MS XVI.E.32, fols. 49v– 50r. Other recipes give instructions for charming water, which can then be used to soak the patient’s bandages: see Durham University Library, MSS Cosin V.IV.1, fol. 28v, and V.IV.8, fol. 30v; and Bodleian Library, MS Ashmole 177, part 2, p. 34. 16. Cambridge University Library, MS Additional 9308, fols. 35r–v and 86v– 87r, MS Dd.4.44, fols. 26r– v and 32r; Cambridge, Corpus Christi College, MS 388, fol. 12v, and Magdalene College, Pepys MS 1661, p. 15; Durham University Library, MS Cosin V.IV.1, fols. 14r (two examples) and 31r; British Library, Additional MSS 15236, fol. 47v, 17866, fol. 5r, and 33996, fols. 95v, 96v, 133r, 147r, and 149r– v; Egerton MS 833, fols. 14r and 26v; Harley MSS 273, fol. 112v, 1680, fol. 8r, and 2380, fols. 64r and 65r; Sloane MSS 431, fols. 2r, 2r–v, 44v and 50v– 51r, 1314, fol. 37r (two examples), 1764, fol. 16r–v, and 3466, fols. 57v– 58r; and Wellcome Library, MSS 404, fols. 18v and 28v, 406, fol. 4v, and 542, fol. 9r; Beinecke Rare Book & Manuscript Library, Takamiya MS 46, fol. 3r; Bodleian Library, MS Ashmole 1447, part 1, p. 6 and part 2, p. 43; MS

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many non­Longinus charms to treat bleeding do use written words.17 Similarly, some written charms use motifs that do not seem to appear in spoken charms. For instance, from at least the thirteenth century onward, written charms against the falling sickness often make use of the names of the Three Magi.18 Although spoken charms against the falling sickness are common, none of those in my extensive sample uses these names, with the exception of one that does not specify whether it should be spoken or written.19 That exception was recorded in the late fifteenth century and, if spoken, may represent components of a written charm moving into speech rather than the other way around. The fact that even popular religious motifs did not move readily between speech and text demonstrates that the two were separated conceptually by more than the impermanence of one and the potential endurance of the other. In addition to using different motifs, spoken or written charms were of­ ten used for treating different conditions. Of the nineteen charms against insomnia I have collected, only two— both from the twelfth century— do not use writing.20 Out of sixty­six charms for childbirth, only eighteen make any use of spoken words.21 The distinction between the uses of spo­ ken and written charms is not absolute, and it changed across the course of Digby 86, fol. 28r; MS Wood empt. 18, fol. 6r–v; MS Rawlinson C 814, fols. 37v and 37v– 38r; and York Minster Library, MS XVI.E.32, fol. 59r. 17. In one charm the reference to Longinus is spoken, but the practitioner is also advised to write the word “bironixa” on the patient’s forehead. British Library, Sloane MS 3466, fols. 57v– 58r. 18. Cambridge, Corpus Christi College, MS 388, fol. 32v, and Cambridge University Library, MS Additional 9308, fols. 53v– 54r, and MS Ll.1.18, fol. 76v; Durham University Library, MSS Cosin V.IV.1, fol. 28r– v, and V.IV.8, fol. 16r; Lincoln Cathedral Library, MSS 88, fol. 129v, and 91, fol. 297r; British Library, Additional MS 33996, fol. 105v; Harley MS 2380, fol. 45r; Sloane MSS 431, fol. 25r, and 1314, fol. 38v; Wellcome Library, MS 542, fol. 13v; Bodleian Library, MS Bodley 761, fol. 6r, and MS Wood empt. 18, fols. 121v– 22r; and York Minster Library, MS XVI.E.32, fols. 4r and 36r– v. 19. Bodleian Library, MS Wood empt. 18, fol. 34r. 20. British Library, Royal MS 2 A xx, fol. 52r and Sloane MS 475, fol. 110r. 21. As explained above, I assume throughout that charms are spoken unless otherwise specified. Childbirth charms that have definite or presumed spoken components are Cambridge, Corpus Christi College, MSS 41, p. 329, and 388, fols. 51v– 52r; Lincoln Cathedral Library, MS 91, fol. 303v (two examples); British Library, Additional MSS 15236, fol. 41r– v, 17866, fol. 40v (two examples); Egerton MS 833, fol. 10r (two examples); Harley MS 1735, fol. 40r; and Sloane MSS 146, fol. 30r–v, 431, fol. 44r, and 475, fol. 22v; Bodleian Library, MS Ashmole 1280, fol. 192v, and MS Digby 88, fols. 3v and 79v; Oxford, Jesus College, MS 37, fol. 156r; and York Minster Library, MS XVI.E.32, fol. 116r– v. As some of these appear in lists of charms in which the first example is written, they may originally have been seen as offering alternative efficacious texts.

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the Middle Ages in England. However, the tendency for some conditions to favor speech or writing— especially conditions like childbirth for which the charm repertoire is large and varied— suggests that text and speech were each viewed as particularly applicable to certain needs. The issue of materiality adds a further layer of complexity to this inter­ pretation. Many scholars have explored the ways in which material aspects of written texts influenced the reading practices applied to them or how materiality contributed to the communicative power of inscribed objects.22 As we have seen, however, charms did not need to be read in order to be perceived as powerful. They therefore offer a different perspective, demon­ strating that both speech and material text had practical functions beyond reading or audience. Efficacious text was thought to conduct power not just because of the meaning of the words, or the appearance of the symbols, but also because of its physical properties. Charms for particular conditions were copied onto particular surfaces: butter or cheese for childbirth, com­ munion wafers or sage leaves for fever, chalk for texts to drive away rats and mice.23 Powerful written words, then, might rely on material form as much as on language to create the relic­like effects that charm­recipes promise. The perceived roles of powerful speech and text changed considerably between imperial Rome and the medieval period in England.24 Further comparative research, beyond the scope of this book, may reveal whether the increased differentiation between spoken and written charms was typ­ ical across medieval Europe or a regional development and whether it was commonly associated with particular rates of literacy or linked to other social or cultural factors. In the medieval English context, however, it is clear that writing and speech were seen as having distinct but overlap­ ping practical medical and protective applications. The efficacy of a charm came not just from its words but from its written or spoken medium, the cultural meaning of which developed over time and influenced not just when a charm was used but also which motifs it drew on. This realization can be applied, in turn, to broader questions about the roles of written and spoken words in the medieval period. Recently, scholars have examined the complex interplay between orality and liter­ acy, for instance in terms of the oral performance of written texts and the 22. See, for example, Anna Krauß, Jonas Leipziger, and Friederike SchückingJungblut, eds., Material Aspects of Reading in Ancient and Medieval Cultures: Materiality, Presence and Performance (Berlin: Walter de Gruyter, 2020); Ricarda Wagner, Christine Neufeld, and Ludger Lieb, eds, Writing Beyond Pen and Parchment: Inscribed Objects in Medieval European Literature (Berlin: Walter de Gruyter, 2019). 23. Hindley, “The Materiality of Manuscript Charms,” 75– 94. 24. Faraone, Transformation.

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influence of speech on literary composition.25 The tendency has been to see elements of orality in the creation or performance of written texts. However, the charms are a reminder that, in certain cases, writing had its own power— not because it made speech concrete but because it tran­ scended speech. Some written charms were believed to operate without being read, without being seen, without repeating spoken words, even without transmitting words that were pronounceable at all. Similarly, there were spoken charms that never took written form in the medieval pe­ riod, despite a long history of written charms to inspire the transition. As much as there was interplay between the written and the oral, there were also realms in which the two remained firmly distinct. These phenomena provoke basic questions about what language itself actually is and what distinctive function it is used to perform.

The Power of Language The charms discussed in this book, both spoken and written, rely primar­ ily on language for their assumed power. In tracing the development of charms in England from the pre­Conquest period to the end of the Middle Ages, I have also traced shifting medieval attitudes toward language in general. Although the basic faith (or sometimes fear) that words could act as conduits of supernatural power remained constant, the languages people turned to when they called upon that power changed. The change was different for spoken charms than for written ones, demonstrating a perception that languages had different applications in speech and writing. As language was the medium through which verbal charms were thought to act, it was a key component of their efficacy. Spoken charms most commonly used the major languages of medieval England: Latin, English, and French. However, a few examples hint at greater linguistic diversity: Greek, Irish, and Old Norse all appear, as do “gibberish” or 25. See, for example, Leslie K. Arnovick, Written Reliquaries: The Resonance of Orality in Medieval English Texts (Amsterdam: John Benjamins Publishing Company, 2006); Marisa Libbon, Talk and Textual Production in Medieval England, Interventions: New Studies in Medieval Culture (Columbus: Ohio State University Press, 2021); Karl Reichl, “The Oral and the Written: Aspects of Oral Composition, Performance, and Reception,” in A Companion to British Literature, vol. 1, Medieval Literature 700– 1450, ed. Robert DeMaria Jr., Heesok Chang, and Samantha Zacher (Chichester: John Wiley & Sons, 2014), 1– 15; Karl Reichl, ed., Medieval Oral Literature (Berlin: Walter De Gruyter, 2012; Mark Chinca and Christopher Young, eds, Orality and Literacy in the Middle Ages: Essays on a Conjunction and Its Consequences in Honour of D. H. Green, Utrecht Studies in Medieval Literacy 12 (Turnhout: Brepols, 2005).

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“jingle” charms that use words with no referential meaning and which may have been intended to mimic the language of supernatural beings.26 Across the medieval period as a whole, vernacular charms always survive in smaller numbers than charms in Latin. However, as the major ver­ nacular languages of England changed, the languages of spoken charms changed along with them. Before 1100, vernacular charms use English for their efficacious words. French then becomes the dominant vernacular for charms, before losing ground to English once again in the fourteenth cen­ tury. As languages changed in dominance, the languages of spoken charms changed in parallel. The same motifs were translated from one language to another: for example, one fever charm that references Architricline and the miracle of turning water into wine is recorded in fifteenth­century manuscripts in English, French, and Latin versions.27 By contrast, the language of written charms did not change as the main languages of medieval England shifted, in large part because written charms almost never used the vernacular. Across the whole of the Middle Ages, most efficacious texts, including the written portions of charms that use both writing and speech, were in Latin. Some incorporated phrases in Greek, Hebrew, runic letters, or invented alphabets. Only at the very end of the medieval period do a few efficacious texts in English survive. In the rare examples in which vernacular writing does appear in a charm, it is almost always found alongside Latin writing (box 4.4). It is useful to think about the use of languages in the charms in terms of a spectrum of comprehensibility, from plainly spoken vernacular words to words that neither the practitioner nor the patient could understand. Spo­ 26. The term gibberish was used by Felix Grendon to describe charms that use “an incoherent jumbling of words.” His “jingles” are gibberish charms “arranged in rhythmical lines, with frequent assonant rhymes.” Felix Grendon, “The Anglo- Saxon Charms,” Journal of American Folklore 22 (1909): 114. Scholars have continued to engage with this terminology. Most recently, Ciaran Arthur has read “gibberish charms” in terms of theological and philosophical interest in encryption, in his “Charms,” Liturgies, and Secret Rites in Early Medieval England (Woodbridge, UK: Boydell Press, 2018), especially 169– 214. 27. The charm appears, for example, in Cambridge, Magdalene College, Pepys MS 1661, p. 15 (English), British Library, Sloane MS 119, fol. 27v (Latin), and British Library, Egerton MS 833, fol. 12v (French). In the biblical account of the wedding at Cana ( John 2:1– 11), architriclinus is a title referring to the head steward at the feast, although it was often misunderstood as a proper name in medieval England and associated with a noble guest at the feast or with the bridegroom himself. For early examples of the error see Thomas Klein, “The ‘Coarser’ Senses in Old English: A Study of the Old English Verbs of Tasting, Smelling, Touching, and Perceiving” (PhD diss., University of Toronto, 1998), 55n21.

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ken charms used the full range of this spectrum. They adopted the domi­ nant vernaculars of their time. Even as Latin remained the most common language for spoken charms throughout the period and even as charms that used incomprehensible “gibberish” words continued to circulate, in­ cantations in English and French became widespread as well. Patients and practitioners, even non­Latinate ones, could therefore use charms whose meaning was comprehensible. When the vernacular messages of certain spoken charms were understood, they could reinforce Christian beliefs and draw the patient’s attention to the divine power behind the charm’s words. Written charms were less readily comprehensible than spoken ones, especially as they avoided vernacular languages. The practitioner’s or pa­ tient’s ability to understand the text appears to have had little bearing on its perceived power, however: comprehension was irrelevant, if not actually undesirable. Not only did written charms use languages that few ordinary patients would have been able to read, but on occasion they also instructed practitioners to conceal the texts or to apply them without the patient’s knowledge. Efficacious texts were therefore thought to operate regardless of whether they were understood or even seen, either because of the inherent power of their words or because their intended readers were the angels— or, as some feared, the demons— that would heal the patient as the charm requested. Recent discussion about medieval Latinity and vernacularity has stressed entanglement rather than opposition, arguing that “the old days of thinking there to be a sharp distinction between Latin and vernacular need to be put behind us.”28 This is not just a call for the importance of studying the interrelationships between the languages as they appear in texts and manuscripts but also a call to acknowledge that the boundaries between Latin and the vernacular are complex, subtle, and sometimes blurred.29 While this may be true of many areas of medieval linguistic production, the evidence of the charms demonstrates that in some areas there was indeed a clear­cut distinction between Latin and the vernac­ ulars. At least in England, they were seen to transmit power differently. Efficacious incantations could use the vernacular; efficacious texts did not. In other regions— particularly where the vernacular was closely related 28. Ardis Butterfield, “The Dream of Language: Chaucer ‘en son Latin,’” Studies in the Age of Chaucer 41 (2019): 14. 29. Carin Ruff, “Latin as an Acquired Language,” in Ralph Hexter and David Townsend, eds., The Oxford Handbook of Medieval Latin Literature (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2012), 48; Butterfield, “Dream,” 14– 18.

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to Latin— the nuanced relationships between writing, speech, vernacular language, and Latin may have differed.30 The overwhelming impression given by the charm­recipes that survive from England is that vernacular languages were deemed to be less power­ ful in writing than in speech. The languages of written charms are Latin, Greek, and occasionally Hebrew (the languages of the Bible), or they are incomprehensible, invoking words and writing systems used by super­ natural beings and inaccessible to human reason. Already sacred, these languages were seen as providing protection or healing through speech or text. The power of vernacular languages, on the other hand, was limited to speech. The ecclesiastical heft of Latin or the mysterious obscurity of unknown words may have enabled those languages to transmit their power both in speech and in the “secondary” form of text; or perhaps the primacy of speech was felt to give the vernacular powers absent from its written form. Whatever the reason, medieval English charm practices evidently recognized and maintained a separation between vernacular languages and Latin.

After the Middle Ages The situation outlined above, in which spoken and written charms differed in language and application, did not last beyond the end of the Middle Ages in England. That the use of charms would shift is not surprising, given the major religious changes of the Protestant Reformation and the Church of England’s break with Rome. However, some changes preceded the Reformation. As we have seen, from the late fifteenth century onward, practitioners seem gradually but increasingly to have abandoned both their sense that vernacular writing would not transmit power and their division between written and spoken charms. Later charms not only use written English but also adopt motifs from spoken charms into written form. Several examples are to be found in Reginald Scot’s The Discoverie of Witchcraft, written in 1584. Scot, a Protestant, lists and condemns various practices that he views as superstitious. Among them are several charms that use vernacular writing, which was extremely uncommon in medieval England. For example, Scot refers to a written amulet— described as an 30. On the close relationship between Latin and vernacular languages in Occitan, Old French, and Ibero-Romance, see Ryan Szpiech, “Latin as a Language of Authoritative Tradition,” in Hexter and Townsend, Oxford Handbook of Medieval Latin Literature, 70– 71.

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epistle of St. Savior— said to offer protection from weapons, fire, water, and harm from men or creatures. The text begins “The crosse of Christ is a woonderfull defense + the crosse of Christ be alwaies with me + the cross is it which I doo alwaies worship.”31 This is an English version of a Latin prayer beginning “Crux Christi sit semper mecum + Crux Christi est quem semper adoro” that appears in medieval amuletic manuscripts.32 Scot also records a second written charm in English, which he describes as “A popish periapt or charme, which must neuer be said, but carried about one, against theeues.” The text reads: I Doo go, and I doo come vnto you with the loue of God, with the humilitie of Christ, with the holiness of our blessed ladie, with the faith of Abraham, with the iustice of Isaac, with the virtue of Dauid, with the might of Peter, with the constancie of Paule, with the word of God, with the authoritie of Gregorie, with the praier of Clement, with the floud of Iordan, p[er] p[er] p c g e g a q q est p t 1 k a b g l k 2 a x t g t b a m g 2 4 2 1 q[ue] p x c g k q a 9 9 p o q q r. Oh onelie Father + oh onlie lord + And Jesus + passing through the middest of them + went + In the name of the Father + and of the Sonne + and of the Holie ghost +.33

Even though Scot associates the charm with “popish” Catholics, it uses language from the Bishops’ Bible, the Protestant Church of England’s au­ thorized translation at the time: “But he, passyng through the myddes of them, went his way.”34 If Scot’s rather polemical book can be trusted— and the similarity of his charm­texts to medieval examples suggests that 31. Reginald Scot, The Discoverie of Witchcraft (London: by [Henry Denham for] William Brome, 1584), 232– 33. Consulted on EEBO, https://www.proquest .com /books/discouerie-witchcraft-wherein-lewde-dealing/docview/2240870409/se-2. 32. An example appears at the bottom of the penultimate membrane of the manuscript roll Beinecke Rare Book & Manuscript Library, Beinecke MS 410, promising protection to its owner. Another amuletic version appears in Bodleian Library, MS Auct. D. inf. 2. 11, fol. 252r–v, while an example described in Philip Bliss, ed., Reliquiae Hearnianae: The Remains of Thomas Hearne, M.A., of Edmund Hall, Being Extracts from His MS. diaries (Oxford: printed for the editor, 1857), 1:196– 97, is intended to be spoken. 33. Scot, Discoverie, 233. In order to preserve the italicization of the original text, I represent expanded abbreviations in square brackets. 34. Luke 4:30. The Holie Bible [The Bishops’ Bible] (London: Richard Jugge, 1568), New Testament, fol. 37r. Consulted online using EEBO, accessed August 14, 2022, https://www.proquest.com/books/holie-bible/docview/2264184212/se-2. The Latin version of this verse appears in medieval charms against theft in Bodleian Library, MS Rawlinson C 814, fols. 3r and 7v.

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here, at least, it can be— then by his time, written charms were being trans­ lated from Latin into English, likely encouraged by the translation of the Bible. The trend continued in subsequent centuries. Owen Davies’s brief survey of charms collected in England and Wales between 1700 and 1950 records several that use written English, including instances of a tooth­ ache charm that draws on a motif clearly derived from medieval spoken charms.35 After the medieval period, then, charm users’ perceived hi­ erarchies of Latin and vernacular language, and of spoken and written language, changed fundamentally. Although charm­texts were increasingly translated into the vernacular during the early modern period in England, concerns about the proper use and comprehension of powerful nonvernacular words persisted. For example, Christopher Marlowe’s Doctor Faustus, first printed in 1604, calls the power of magical words into question.36 Although Faustus believes that the “vertue in [his] heavenly words” (iii.271) and “coniuring speeches” (iii.290) cause the devil Mephistopheles to appear, Mephistopheles argues that the words themselves are incidental: demons come when they hear people reject God (iii.291– 99). Later demonic summonings confirm that education is not a prerequisite for necromancy. Robin the ostler, whose education is so meager that his friend Ralph questions whether he can even read (viii.963– 64), successfully summons Mephistopheles with a mangled combination of Latin and Greek (“Sanctobulorum Periphrasti­ con”) taken from one of Faustus’s books (ix.1009). On the one hand, this suggests that magical words, whether their users understand them or not, have power only because their allure seduces people into putting their souls in jeopardy. On the other, Mephistopheles complains that he is “vexed with these vilaines charmes” and has come from Constantinople “onely for pleasure of these damned slaues,” implying that he is in fact 35. Owen Davies, “Healing Charms in Use in England and Wales, 1700– 1950,” Folklore 107 (1996): 22– 23, texts B1 and B4 (for toothache), and C1, C3, C4, and C5 (for the ague and fever). The toothache charms use the motif of encounter between Christ and Peter, who is usually sitting on a rock. Medieval examples in my sample, all of which are spoken charms, appear in Cambridge University Library, MS Additional 9308, fols. 25r– 26r; British Library, Additional MSS 15236, fol. 61v, and 33996, fol. 91v, Cotton MS Vespasian D xx, fol. 93r, Harley MS 585 (Lacnunga), fol. 183r– v, and Sloane MS 1314, fol. 15v; Wellcome Library, MS 542, fol. 6v; and Bodleian Library, MS Digby 86, fol. 30r, MS Junius 85, fol. 17v, MS Rawlinson C 814, fols. 36v– 37r, and MS Wood empt. 18, fol. 2v– 3r. 36. All quotations are taken from the 1604 A-text in Christopher Marlowe, Marlowe’s “Doctor Faustus” 1604– 1616: Parallel Texts, ed. W. W. Greg (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1950).

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constrained by the power of the characters’ words (ix.1026– 28). However, even if the words they use do have power, the clownish characters’ lack of education still seems to have an impact on their encounter with the devil. Where Faustus negotiates twenty­four years of demonic service before losing his soul (iii.332– 42; v.470– 77), Robin and Ralph are immediately punished with animal transformations into an ape and a dog (ix.1032– 33). The text simultaneously critiques Faustus’s belief that his ability to conjure the devil stems from his deep learning and Robin and Ralph’s belief that words alone will allow them to control demons. The 1621 play The Witch of Edmonton, by William Rowley, Thomas Dek­ ker, and John Ford, draws on similar concerns when the devil teaches the titular “witch,” Elizabeth Sawyer, to curse using the spoken Latin words “Sanctibicetur nomen tuum” (II.i.177).37 In this parody of the Pa­ ter Noster the word sanctificetur (used in the phrase “hallowed be thy name”) is replaced by the meaningless “sanctibicetur.” Over the course of the play Sawyer repeats the curse— which she refers to as “a kind of charm” (II.i.256)— several times with varying pronunciation, implying that the changeable words do not have the power the devil claims they do. However, her misuse of Latin leads her into blasphemy. At one point she says: “Contaminetur nomen tuum. I’m an expert scholar; / Speak Latin, or I know not well what language, / As well as the best of ’em” (II.i.182– 84). This error is meaningful: her phrase translates as “defiled be thy name.” By repeating the phrase incorrectly, without knowledge of Latin or even of what language she is speaking, Sawyer twists the devil’s words from a nonsensical phrase into a deeply sinful statement. The play implies that while the Latin has no inherent power, Sawyer condemns herself through her lack of comprehension and her willingness to use unknown, suppos­ edly magical, words maliciously. That the play’s concerns focus on a Latin phrase likely to have been familiar to its audience suggests that at least in some cases, anxiety about “unknown” words— described in both The Witch of Edmonton and Doctor Faustus as “charms”— had transferred from the possible meanings or effects of the words themselves to the evil con­ sequences of being tricked into believing in their power. Postmedieval charms’ use of efficacious text in English points us to broader questions about exactly when, and why, the change occurred. What prompted the initial acceptance of the vernacular for written charms? Did Protestant translations of the Bible and the liturgy into En­ glish accelerate its use? Which Latin charms continued in use, which were 37. William Rowley, Thomas Dekker, and John Ford, The Witch of Edmonton, ed. Arthur F. Kinney (London: A&C Black, 1998).

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translated, and which were abandoned? Were spoken charms affected? Did medieval spoken charms that moved into written form gain new flex­ ibility, with practitioners able to use them in either speech or writing, or was there a general increase in the proportion of written charms? Did text and speech cease to be differentiated as more people became literate, or were they simply differentiated in other ways? Did other countries expe­ rience a similar shift in the use of vernacular languages and written words in their charm practices, both during the later Middle Ages and after? As these questions indicate, there is more work to be done on the evo­ lution of charms and their languages, materials, and religious strategies. Their persistence, despite linguistic change, political upheaval, and reli­ gious reformation, is evidence of their importance to medieval culture and to our understanding of it. Indeed, they have persisted all the way into the twentieth century and perhaps beyond: in 1970 in Devon, the folklorist Theo Brown could confidently state, “I know the names and addresses of seven practicing charmers and the whereabouts but not the names of another nine, and this without stirring myself to find more.”38 Users both medieval and modern— soldiers on their way to battle, trav­ elers in unfamiliar lands, expectant mothers, farmers with sick animals, victims of theft, patients of all kinds— believed that the power of charm language could literally change their world.

38. Theo Brown, “Charming in Devon,” Folklore 81 (Spring 1970): 38.

Acknowledgments

This book would not have been completed without the encouragement and support of more family members, colleagues, friends, and mentors than can be acknowledged fully here. Thanks are due above all to Alastair Minnis for his insightful comments and generous advice. Others whose lively and challenging input helped shape this project include Caroline Batten, Jessica Brantley, Ardis Butterfield, Raymond Clemens, Roberta Frank, Anne Hindley, Gina Marie Hurley, Kate Leach, Lea T. Olsan, So­ phie Page, Graham Prescott, Barbara Shailor, Victoria Symons, Denys Turner, Clara Wild, and Anders Winroth. I am grateful for the financial support that made extensive manuscript research possible: a Start Up Grant from Nanyang Technological Univer­ sity, a MacMillan International Dissertation Research Fellowship from Yale University, the Hope Emily Allen Dissertation Grant from the Medi­ eval Academy of America, a Short­Term Fellowship from the Bibliograph­ ical Society of America, and a Josephine de Karman Fellowship. An MOE Academic Research Funding Tier 1 Grant from the Singapore Ministry of Education allowed me to make a version of my database of medieval charm­texts available to the public. I am especially grateful to Joyce Tan Wee Ngar in NTU’s Research Office for her administrative advice. S. C. Kaplan, Tom Revell, and Lauren Beversluis checked my trans­ lations from French, Old English, and Latin respectively. Any remaining errors are my own. In the final stages of this project, I have benefited from the assistance of several excellent research assistants: Thaheera Althaf, Chwa Yi Jie, Aaron Amos Lim, XH Lim, and Yong Yan Lin. Grateful thanks to all.

Manuscripts Cited

Aberystwyth, UK National Library of Wales, Peniarth MS 205 National Library of Wales, Sotheby MS C.2

Bethesda, MD National Library of Medicine, MS E 32

Cambridge, UK Cambridge University Library, MS Additional 9308 Cambridge University Library, MS Dd.4.44 Cambridge University Library, MS Ll.1.10 Cambridge University Library, MS Ll.1.18 Corpus Christi College, MS 41 Corpus Christi College, MS 173 Corpus Christi College, MS 190 Corpus Christi College, MS 308 Corpus Christi College, MS 383 Corpus Christi College, MS 388 Corpus Christi College, MS 405 Corpus Christi College, MS 422 Corpus Christi College, MS 441 Gonville and Caius College, MS 379/599 Gonville and Caius College, MS 385/605 Magdalene College, Pepys MS 878 Magdalene College, Pepys MS 1661 Trinity College, MS B.11.1 Trinity College, MS B.15.36

Canterbury, UK Canterbury Cathedral Library, Additional MS 23

262

Manuscripts Cited

Columbia, MO University of Missouri, Ellis Library, Special Collections Fragmenta Manuscripta 175

Durham, UK Durham Cathedral Library, MS Hunter 100 Durham University Library, MS Cosin V.III.10 Durham University Library, MS Cosin V.III.11 Durham University Library, MS Cosin V.IV.1 Durham University Library, MS Cosin V.IV.8 Durham University Library, MS Cosin V.V.9 Durham University Library, MS Cosin V.V.13

Edinburgh, UK National Library of Scotland, Advocates’ MS 19.2.1

Glasgow, UK Glasgow University Library, MS Hunter 339

Herrnstein near Siegburg, Germany Bibliothek der Grafen Nesselrode, MS 192 (now destroyed)

Lincoln, UK Lincoln Cathedral Library, MS 88 Lincoln Cathedral Library, MS 91

London, UK British Library, Additional MS 12195 British Library, Additional MS 15236 British Library, Additional MS 17866 British Library, Additional MS 31042 British Library, Additional MS 33996 British Library, Additional MS 37049 British Library, Additional MS 88929 British Library, Cotton MS Caligula A vii British Library, Cotton MS Caligula A xv British Library, Cotton MS Faustina A x British Library, Cotton MS Galba A xiv British Library, Cotton MS Julius D viii British Library, Cotton MS Nero D iv British Library, Cotton MS Otho A xiii (now destroyed) British Library, Cotton MS Tiberius A iii

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263

British Library, Cotton MS Titus D xxvi British Library, Cotton MS Vespasian D xx British Library, Cotton MS Vitellius A xv British Library, Cotton MS Vitellius C iii British Library, Cotton MS Vitellius E xviii British Library, Egerton MS 833 British Library, Egerton MS 2433 British Library, Egerton MS 2862 British Library, Harley MS 273 British Library, Harley MS 585 (Lacnunga) British Library, Harley MS 978 British Library, Harley MS 1680 British Library, Harley MS 1735 British Library, Harley MS 2380 British Library, Harley MS 2558 British Library, Harley MS 2965 British Library, Harley MS 5396 British Library, Harley Roll T. 11 British Library, Royal MS 1 A xvii British Library, Royal MS 2 A xx British Library, Royal MS 8 A x British Library, Royal MS 12 D xvii (Bald’s Leechbook; Leechbook III) British Library, Royal MS 12 E xx British Library, Royal MS 12 E xxiii British Library, Royal MS 15 A viii British Library, Royal MS 17 B xlviii British Library, Sloane MS 6 British Library, Sloane MS 84 British Library, Sloane MS 119 British Library, Sloane MS 146 British Library, Sloane MS 431 British Library, Sloane MS 475 British Library, Sloane MS 1314 British Library, Sloane MS 1764 British Library, Sloane MS 2002 British Library, Sloane MS 2272 British Library, Sloane MS 2839 British Library, Sloane MS 3466 British Library, Stowe MS 16 Wellcome Library, MS 404 Wellcome Library, MS 406 Wellcome Library, MS 542 Wellcome Library, MS 632

New Haven, CT Beinecke Rare Book & Manuscript Library, Beinecke MS 410 Beinecke Rare Book & Manuscript Library, Takamiya MS 46

264

Manuscripts Cited

Beinecke Rare Book & Manuscript Library, Takamiya MS 56 Yale Center for British Art, R486 .M43 1450

Nijmegen, The Netherlands Universiteitsbibliotheek, HS 194

Oxford, UK Bodleian Library, MS Ashmole 177 Bodleian Library, MS Ashmole 1280 Bodleian Library, MS Ashmole 1431 Bodleian Library, MS Ashmole 1447 Bodleian Library, MS Auct. D. inf. 2. 11 Bodleian Library, MS Auct. F.3.6 Bodleian Library, MS Auct. F.5.31 Bodleian Library, MS Barlow 35 Bodleian Library, MS Bodley 130 Bodleian Library, MS Bodley 163 Bodleian Library, MS Bodley 761 Bodleian Library, MS Digby 86 Bodleian Library, MS Digby 88 Bodleian Library, MS Douce 84 Bodleian Library, MS Douce 87 Bodleian Library, MS Hatton 20 Bodleian Library, MS Hatton 76 Bodleian Library, MS Junius 85 Bodleian Library, MS Laud Misc. 622 Bodleian Library, MS Laud Misc. 656 Bodleian Library, MS Rawlinson C 211 Bodleian Library, MS Rawlinson C 814 Bodleian Library, MS Wood D 8 Bodleian Library, MS Wood empt. 18 Jesus College, MS 37 St. John’s College, MS 17

Princeton, NJ Princeton University Library, Taylor MS Medieval 11

Rochester, UK Rochester Cathedral Library, MS A.3.5 (Textus Roffensis)

San Marino, CA Huntington Library, MS HM 64

Manuscripts Cited

St. Gallen, Switzerland Stiftsbibliothek, Cod. Sang. 751

Vatican City Biblioteca Apostolica, Pal. Lat. 294 Biblioteca Apostolica, Reg. Lat. 338

Vienna, Austria Österreichische Nationalbibliothek, cod. 751

Worcester, UK Worcester Cathedral Library, MS Q.5

York, UK York Minster Library, MS XVI.E.32

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Index

Page numbers in italic refer to figures. abbreviations, 176, 181 Abgar, King of Edessa, 119, 170 abracadabra, 85– 86 “Abracadabra” amulet, 84 Æcerbot field blessing, 133– 34 Ælfric of Eynsham, 36– 37, 112, 114– 16, 127 Aesculapius, 12– 13, 13 Æthelheard (archbishop of Canterbury), 118 Ailred, St., 68n94 Alban, St., 244 Alcuin of York (bishop), 10n36, 40–41, 117– 18 Aldhelm (bishop of Sherborne), 10n36 Alexander: Anglo-Norman, 184– 87; Latin, 145–46n2 Alexander of Tralles, 145– 46n2 Alexander the Great, 184 Alfred, King, 99– 101 Al-Kindi, 38, 40, 54 Almagest (Ptolemy), 231 alphabets: Greek, 10, 42– 43, 92, 174, 228; known, 29; Roman, 43, 92– 98, 172, 174, 181, 230; runic, 174; standard, 176– 77, 220; unknown, 176– 77, 184– 87, 201, 251. See also languages; letters; words ampullae, 53– 54 amulets, 84; ancient uses of, 25; Canterbury, 178– 80, 179, 180, 220, 223; and charms, 81, 129; devilish, 117;

Greek, 245; and kings or lords, 174; medical profession’s condemnation of, 36; physical, 247; for protection, 72, 119n102, 170; and relics, 51; and relic veneration, 81; Roman, 246; and seals, 178– 80; textual, 1, 7n23, 19, 21– 22, 25, 34n12, 36, 40, 51– 52, 63, 71– 74, 77, 83– 90, 108, 116, 118– 19, 178, 183, 237n96, 245, 246, 253– 54. See also charms; charm-words; words angels, 55, 102– 3, 174n56, 252 Anglo-French: charms, 26, 28, 50, 150– 51, 172, 187; language, 184– 85; texts, 28, 160n28, 185– 87 Anglo-Norman Alexander, 184– 87 Anglo-Norman French, 146, 184– 85 Anglo-Norman period (1100– 1350), 145– 88, 192– 93, 199n20, 201, 220 Anglo-Saxon Manuscripts (Gneuss and Lapidge), 27 Anima Christi (prayer), 2n4 animals, charms for, 164, 257 anti- Semitism, 211 Apollo, 12– 14, 14 Apollonia, St., 63, 66, 237n96 Apology for Lollard Doctrines, 15 Aquinas, Thomas, 40– 41, 183– 84, 226n71 Arabic language, 37, 173– 74, 177 archaeology, 88, 92, 94– 95, 97– 98, 100– 101 Architricline, 204, 251

290

architriclinus, 103n68, 251n27 Arderne, John, 12, 227– 29 Arimathea, Joseph of, 74 Aristotle, 51 “Arsitriclenus,” 103n68 Ars notoria, 173– 74 Arthur, Ciaran, 4, 115, 131, 142n173, 251n26 Aschepius, 13, 14n43 Asclepius, 13 Asser, 99 Augustine of Hippo, St., 33– 34, 36– 37, 54, 116n95, 231 Auxi Verreement charm, 208, 210 Ave Marias, 104, 159, 194, 199, 201, 205, 217n53 Averroes, 51 babies, charms to stop from crying, 27 Bacon, Roger, 177 Bald’s Leechbook. See Leechbook I; Leechbook II Beccaria, Augusto, 147– 48 Becket, St. Thomas, 53– 54 Bede, Venerable, 10n36, 119, 132– 33 Beechy, Tiffany, 126– 27 “Beholde and se,” 78– 80, 79, 80 beliefs: Christian, 35, 40, 91, 218, 252; and folklore, 6; and medieval scholarly writing, 6; and truth, 209 Beowulf, 105– 11 Bernard, St., 68n94, 160 Bevis of Hampton, 244 Bible: eating words in, 42– 62; English translations of, 256; languages of, 43– 44, 172, 253; and power of words, 112; vernacular, 220 bilingualism, 86nn12– 13, 154n25, 191n9 Binding Words (Skemer), 7n23, 25 bleeding, charms against, 5, 11– 12, 31– 33, 67, 86, 96– 97, 108– 9, 130n132, 137– 39, 164n38, 192, 194, 207, 209– 10, 237, 246–48 blessings, 127, 133– 34 Bozóky, Edina, 28n69, 207 Bradmore, John, 229– 30 Braekman, W. L., 5

index

Bredehoft, Thomas, 54, 101 British Library, Harley Roll T. 11. See Harley Roll T. 11 (British Library) British Library, Sloane MS 475. See Sloane MS 475 (British Library) Brooks, Nicholas, 109 Brown, Theo, 257 Burchard, 117 Burke, Peter, 8 burn charm (Out Fire, in Frost), 5– 6 Bynum, Caroline Walker, 34– 35 Caesarius of Arles, 116– 17 Cameron, M. L., 96, 145– 46n2, 148 Canterbury, Thomas of. See Becket, St. Thomas carmen (Latin), 15, 215, 238, 240 Cassius. See Nichasius, St., charms Celtic language, 88 ceremonies, 19, 133, 143. See also rituals Chaldean language, 173– 74, 185 Chardonnens, László Sándor, 71, 148 Charlemagne, Prière de, 74 charme (French), 15 charms: circulation of, 26, 184, 241, 243, 246; definitions and usage of term, 15; efficacy of, 105, 132, 147, 150– 51, 172, 182– 84, 188, 209– 10, 229, 231, 243, 249– 50; embodied, 232– 35; evidence for practices and uses of, 25– 28, 129– 43; evolution of, 257; and intellectual life, 243; literate users of, 9, 11; logic of, 107, 111; made-up, 7; as mechanical, 188; and medieval piety, 72; and medieval readers, 26; narrative, 5– 6; and nursery rhymes, comparison of, 244; objections, definitions, and distinctions, 11– 24; physical forms of, 42– 62, 245, 249; in post-Conquest England, 11, 55, 58, 132, 143, 145, 160, 187– 88, 200; postmedieval, 253– 57; power of, 11, 15, 18– 19, 29, 81, 97, 101, 106, 127– 29, 143, 147, 170, 176, 196, 199, 201, 241, 257; in pre-Conquest England, 4n9, 55, 58, 83– 143, 146–47, 163– 65, 170, 174, 176, 182, 192, 199, 250; and social classes, 100– 101, 243;

index

and social life, 243–44; and specialization, 143; spoken and verbal, 1– 29, 35–44, 51, 63, 83, 89– 91, 95n41, 99, 102–4, 111, 118– 19, 129– 39, 143, 145–47, 150– 51, 154n23, 163– 64, 170– 72, 176, 187– 88, 192– 210, 217– 22, 231– 57; textual, 1– 29, 34– 36, 41– 44, 51– 55, 61– 63, 67, 70, 72, 78, 83, 85– 86, 89– 94, 97– 101, 104– 5, 117– 19, 129– 31, 136– 39, 143– 51, 154n23, 170– 76, 180, 187– 88, 192, 207, 219– 57; ubiquity of, 243; vernacular, 4n11, 201, 207– 8, 210, 220– 22, 251– 56. See also amulets; charm-words; enchantments; incantations; recipes; remedies; texts “Charms,” Liturgies, and Secret Rites in Early Medieval England (Arthur), 4 charm-words: and common devotional phrases, 246; and physical world, influence on, 187; power of, 31– 81; and relics, 35– 36. See also amulets; charms; texts Charters of Christ, 44–45 Chaucer, Geoffrey, 53, 232– 35, 244 childbirth: charms for, 5, 10, 43, 50, 55, 60, 108, 111, 121n110, 154, 159, 170, 182, 192, 220, 228n77, 246, 248– 49, 257; girdles and belts for, 62, 68 Chinese language, 177 Chi-Rho Christogram, 179 Chism, Christine, 219 Chobham, Thomas of (subdean of Salisbury), 38–40, 54 Christians and Christianity, 7, 17, 19, 31, 34– 35, 40–45, 54– 55, 67, 91– 92, 105, 108, 112, 115– 19, 126, 143, 161, 208, 210– 19, 252; and faith, 36, 80, 133, 210, 213; and healing, 34, 214, 218– 19 Church of England, 253– 54 ciphers, 92, 148– 50 Clanchy, Michael, 187– 88 Clarence, Duke of. See Thomas of Lancaster Clerk, Roger, 1– 3, 6, 10, 243 conception, charms for, 220. See also childbirth contraception, charms for, 183

291

Coppergate Helmet, 101 Cornish language, 9 cramps, charms against, 63, 65n89, 226– 27 Credos, 104, 199 Cromwell, Thomas, 62 crosses, 23– 24, 49, 69, 75, 111, 124, 142, 155, 180– 81, 192n13, 198, 205, 220, 224, 230, 247; as symbols, 23 crucifixion, of Christ, 44– 45, 70, 74, 75, 77, 81, 94, 124, 194, 206– 7, 209, 212, 215, 217, 247– 48 crying babies, charms for, 27 Cubitt, Catherine, 109 Curae herbarum (Pseudo-Dioscorides), 130 cures, 37, 105, 215, 239 curses, 45–46, 49, 88– 90, 124n114, 129 Cuthbert, St., 92– 93 Cynewulf, 115 danger and evil, protection from, 52, 158, 202– 3. See also evil spirits Davies, Owen, 188, 255 Dean, Ruth J., 27 De consideratione (St. Bernard), 160 Decretum (Burchard), 117 De doctrina Christiana (Augustine), 36, 116n95 De herbis feminis (Pseudo-Dioscorides), 130 Dekker, Thomas, 256 De radiis (Al-Kindi), 38 Digest ( Justinian), 83 Discoverie of Witchcraft, The (Scot), 253– 54 divinations, 112, 115, 184– 85 Doctor Faustus (Marlowe), 255– 56 Doubting Thomas, 67– 68 Duke of Clarence. See Thomas of Lancaster Dutch language and charms, 5, 9 Eadwine Psalter, 151 Ecclesiastical History (Bede), 119, 132nn139– 40 Edgar, King, 112

292

Egbert (first archbishop of York), 116 Egbert Penitential, 116– 17 elf-disease, 130n132, 134, 134n147, 142 elf-hiccup, charms and remedies for, 138–42 elf-shot, 128, 130n132, 134 elite culture, 7– 8 elves, 113, 128n127, 134– 38, 141, 143, 199– 200, 246n10 enchantments, 14, 127 encryption, 241, 251n26 England: charms and social role of text in pre-Conquest, 90– 105; cultural landscape of, 6– 11, 145, 160; education and learning in, 100; linguistic landscape of, 199 English: charms, 4, 15, 28, 47, 52, 72, 93– 94, 100, 129, 146, 154– 60, 163– 65, 170– 71, 193– 201, 207, 210, 220– 21, 245, 247, 250– 51, 253– 56; as efficacious language, 164; language, 9, 52, 63, 91, 93– 94, 99– 100, 129, 141, 145, 154, 163– 65, 170, 176, 189– 96, 199, 247, 250– 52; liturgy in, 256; as sole language of power in charms, 196, 199, 241; spoken aloud, power of, 94; texts, 28, 165n41, 226n71, 236n93, 250n25; vernacular, 189; written, 145, 253, 255. See also Middle English; Old English English Verbal Charms (Roper), 4 epilepsy, 42, 200. See also falling evil/ falling sickness Epistola de febribus (Galen), 148 Epitome (Zacher), 185– 86 Esculapius. See Aesculapius Eucharist, 34, 132 Eusebius, 170n44 evil. See danger and evil, protection from; evil spirits; falling evil/falling sickness evil spirits, 98, 200n23, 226 exorcisms, 83, 132 eyes, charms for, 28n70, 108, 110, 136, 192, 221, 236, 246 fairies, 8, 134 falling evil/falling sickness, 20, 42–43, 51– 52, 63, 67n89, 192, 200, 246n10, 248

index

Fantosme, Jordan, 184n77 Faraone, Christopher A., 245 farcy, charms against, 65, 162 Fasciculus morum, 7, 44, 243 Fates of the Apostles, The (Cynewulf), 115 Faustus, 255– 56 felon, charms against, 102, 130n132, 165, 168– 69, 197– 98, 203 fevers, charms against, 2, 48– 49, 55– 59, 65, 67, 85– 86, 103–4, 114, 130n132, 136– 38, 147, 192, 200– 201, 238, 251 Finucane, R. C., 33 First Jewish-Roman War, 211 fistula, charms against, 201, 208– 9, 246 Floris and Blancheflour, 73– 74 Flum Jordan charms, 5, 26n60, 195, 222 folklore, 6 Ford, John, 256 Francis, St., 68n94 Franks Casket, 93, 93 Frazer, James, 22 French: charms, 15, 52, 147, 150– 72, 192– 210, 247, 250– 51; language, 9, 52, 151, 164n39, 189, 191– 93, 195, 200– 201, 247, 250– 52; texts, 151n22, 206. See also Anglo-Norman French Gaddesden, John of. See John of Gaddesden galdor. See divinations; incantations Galen, 12, 148 Gameson, Richard, 27, 109 gibberish: charms, 250– 52; inscriptions, 98 girdles and belts, 62, 67– 81, 69, 244 Glossa ordinaria, 46, 59 glosses, 46 Gneuss, Helmut, 27 grace of God charms, 16– 17 Grant, Raymond S. J., 120 Greek: alphabet, 10, 42–43, 92, 174, 228– 29; amulets, 245; characters, 229– 30; charms, 10, 93– 94, 157, 172, 220– 21, 250– 51, 253; church, 6; incantations, 245–46; language, 10, 93– 94, 172– 74, 228– 30, 250– 51, 253, 255; learning, 10n36; letters, 42– 43,

index

49, 94, 96, 149, 174, 176, 228– 30, 232; prayers, 10n37, 245– 46; and scholars, 10n36; texts, 10, 109; words, 139, 230 Green, Richard Firth, 8, 134 Gregory, Pope, 100 Grendel, 105– 8 Grendon, Felix, 251n26 Gurevich, Aron, 6– 7 Guthlac, St., 115 Guthlac B (poem), 115 Hall, Alaric, 134 Hanna, Ralph, 211– 13 Harley Roll T. 11 (British Library), 223– 25, 224, 225 healing and protection: charms for, 34, 42, 67, 86, 108, 129, 136– 37, 145, 188, 192, 214, 218– 20, 223, 230, 244–45, 252– 53; language about, 72; miracles for, 33– 34; and natural things, properties imbued in, 17; powers, transmission of, 7; and purification, 212; reading and writing for, 188; relics for, 34, 72, 81; words for, 34, 42, 81, 192. See also medical and protective charms health. See healing and protection; medical and protective charms Heavenly Letter, 5, 71, 74, 77, 119, 170 heavenly writing, 72, 178, 180 Hebing, Rosanne, 71 Hebrew language and charms, 9, 94n39, 157, 172– 74, 220, 251, 253 Henry V, 229 Henry VIII, 62, 76n115 Herbarium (Pseudo-Apuleius), 90n23, 128nn125– 27, 130, 136– 38, 145– 46n2 herbs, 12, 17n47, 39, 113, 116n95, 134– 35, 139, 142, 214, 218, 228, 239– 41 hieroglyphs, 173, 176 Hines, John, 97 Hippo, Augustine of. See Augustine of Hippo, St. Hippocrates, 12 Historia ecclesiastica (Eusebius), 170n44 Historia ecclesiastica gentis Anglorum (Bede), 132

293

historiolae, 201, 207 Holder, Nick, 101, 103 Holy Trinity, 20, 120, 159, 171, 175, 212 holy water, 45, 48, 50, 114, 135, 139, 142, 155. See also relic water homophonic substitution, 149 Hugh of Lincoln, St. (bishop), 54 Hunt, Tony, 26n61, 146, 152 Implications of Literacy (Stock), 9– 10 imprecations, 83 incantations, 5, 24, 36, 83, 112, 114– 16, 123, 129, 151, 154, 159– 60, 163– 64, 170– 72, 186, 193, 195, 201– 2, 207, 209, 215, 217, 238, 243–45, 252; and charms, 15, 103, 127; efficacious, 253; Greek, 245– 46; and holy words, 127; and psalms, 114; spoken, 245; vernacular, 253 inscriptions, 14n43, 23, 54– 55, 68– 72, 86, 88– 89, 92– 93, 101– 3, 107, 125, 171, 223– 24, 247; illegible, 176; and literacy, 92; and materiality, 249; runic, 92, 97– 98; sounds and words as, 245; and text, 245 insomnia, charms against, 65, 67, 228n77, 248 Irish language and charms, 93– 94, 165, 250– 51. See also Old Irish language and charms Isidore of Seville, 12 jargon, usage of term, 185 jaundice, charms against, 55n80, 162– 63 Jewish-Roman War, First, 211 jingle charms, 250– 51 John, St., 61, 115, 194 John of Gaddesden, 218, 226– 27, 229 John of Trevisa, 191 Jolly, Karen Louise, 134 Joseph of Arimathea, 74 Julius Valerius Alexander Polemius, 185 Justinian, 83 Kahn, David, 149 Kelly, Susan, 98 Kempe, Margery, 76– 81 Kent, Thomas of, 184– 86 Kesling, Emily, 134– 35

294

Kibre, Pearl, 27n67, 193n15 “Knight’s Tale” (Chaucer), 244 Kurtz, Patricia Deery, 27n67, 193n15 Lacnunga, 4n9, 43n40, 47, 49, 51, 58, 67n90, 89n22, 98n45, 102, 109– 10, 113– 15, 120n105, 123, 129– 30, 133– 38, 163– 67, 207n27, 255n35 lamellae, 86– 88, 87, 183 Lancaster, Thomas of, 62, 68n94 Lanfranc of Milan, 231 languages: biblical, 43– 44, 172, 253; and charms, 29, 93– 94, 192– 98, 245, 249– 53, 257; efficacious, 164, 170, 199– 201; elevated, 92; in medieval England, 9, 250; power of, 29, 171, 199, 241, 245, 250– 53, 257; purpose of, 192; respected, 94; sacred, 94, 253; and supernatural, 251, 253; and text, boundaries of, 145– 88; unfamiliar, 39, 187; universal, 164– 65; unknown, 186– 87, 189, 201; vernacular, 28, 94, 154, 164– 66, 170– 72, 189, 192– 210, 220, 251– 55, 257; and writing, 93– 94, 186– 87, 257. See also alphabets; letters; words; and specific languages Lapidge, Michael, 27 “Late Medieval English Magic” website, 5n12 late medieval period. See Middle Ages, late late Middle Ages. See Middle Ages, late Latin: alphabet, 43, 92– 98, 172, 174, 181, 230; charms, 15, 28, 52, 93– 94, 103, 109, 129, 146, 151, 157, 160, 163, 165, 172, 199– 201, 220– 21, 228– 29, 247, 250– 53, 255– 57; ecclesiastical heft of, 253; inscriptions, 92– 93; language, 9, 29, 52, 63, 93– 94, 99– 100, 103– 5, 129, 146, 151, 164– 65, 172, 187, 189– 93, 200– 201, 230– 31, 247, 250– 51, 253, 255; literacy, 9, 91– 92, 104– 5, 190; liturgy, 94, 199; prayers, 196, 199n22, 254; reading aloud, 104; texts, 1n1, 88, 199n19, 230– 31; as universal language, 164– 65; and vernacular, 252– 55 Layton, Richard, 62, 68

index

Leechbook I, 48, 90n23, 94n38, 94n41, 95, 97n43, 102, 114– 15, 122, 128nn126– 27, 129– 31, 133, 134n148, 135, 136nn159– 60, 137nn163– 65, 138, 139n171, 165– 66 Leechbook II, 90n23, 122– 23, 130– 31, 133, 134n146, 136n159, 137n163, 138n166 Leechbook III, 90n23, 129– 30, 132n137, 133, 134n147, 135nn154– 55, 136n159, 137nn163– 64, 138–42, 182n69 Legh, Thomas, 62, 68 Le Goff, Jacques, 6– 7 Leis Willelme, 151 Lepidina, Sulpicia, 91– 92 Lerer, Seth, 132– 33 letters: Greek, 49; runic, 124, 176, 251; strings of, 93– 94, 96, 180– 81, 220n64; unusual, 176; written, and meanings, 11. See also alphabets; languages; words Liber pantegni, 200 Life of King Alfred (Asser), 99 ligatures, 116 Lindisfarne Gospels, 125– 26 linguistics, 34, 72, 143, 154, 171– 72, 189, 199, 235– 36, 241, 250– 52, 257 literacy: aspiration to, 103; and charms, 6– 11, 189, 241; and education, 190; in England, 11, 189– 92; English, 104– 5; increased, 189– 92, 226, 231– 32, 257; and inscriptions, 92; Latin, 9, 91– 92, 104– 5, 190; lay, 241; limited, 112; medieval and Middle Ages, 189– 90, 241; and orality, 9– 10, 187– 88, 249– 50; power of, 188; of recreation, 189; in Roman Britain, 91– 92; runic, 97– 98; and texts, 226; urban, 190; vernacular, 190 literature. See alphabets; languages; texts; words liturgical charms, 19– 22, 42–44, 91, 115, 131– 38, 142–43, 192n13, 199– 200, 220, 239 liturgy: of church, 42; in English, 256; Latin, 94; and Mass, 143 Liuzza, R. M., 148 Lollard, 15, 76

index

Long Charter, 44–45 Longinus, 124, 194, 206, 215, 217, 247– 48 loricae, 120, 243 Lucca, Theodoric of, 231 Lydgate, John, 241 Lyra, Nicholas of, 46 made-up charms, 7 magic: and charms, 34, 146; and demons, 3; early modern folk, 188; evil, protection against, 47, 133n142; literary forms of, 188; and occult, 3; and religion, 22; and rituals, 173, 177, 187, 223n65; and runes, 124; and superstition, 91; and text, 187; and unfamiliar languages, 187. See also textual magic magicians, 86n11, 173, 184 Malinowski, Bronislaw, 22 Margaret, St., 68n94 Marlowe, Christopher, 255 martyrs and martyrdom, 33, 56, 63– 64, 66, 76, 78, 81, 105, 110, 115 Mary, Virgin. See Virgin Mary Mary Magdalene, 54 Mass/masses: and charms, 19, 21, 42, 91, 136, 192n13, 245; and liturgy, 143; power of, 19, 132; rituals of, 200 materiality, 29, 34, 72, 126, 233n86, 239, 245n7, 249, 257. See also textuality Meaney, Audrey L., 129– 31 medical and prognostic texts, 97, 145– 46, 148–49, 149, 154, 160n28 medical and protective charms, 12– 14, 25, 81, 83– 86, 90– 91, 112, 115, 130–43, 145–47, 151, 154, 210– 19, 227– 32, 235– 41, 243, 245–49; and saints, 81. See also healing and protection Medicina de quadrupedibus, 90n23, 128n125, 130 medicine, history of, 12– 13 Medieval Academy of America, 193n15 medieval period, late. See Middle Ages, late Meditations on the Passion (Rolle), 44 Mephistopheles, 255 metaphors, 69, 125– 26, 182n70

295

mice and rats, charms against, 137n161, 170– 71, 249 Middle Ages, late, 9, 11, 26, 29, 35– 36, 51, 77, 94, 184, 189– 241, 249– 51, 253– 55; after, 253– 57 Middle English, 44, 73, 78, 93, 146, 186– 87, 210, 231. See also Old English Milan, Lanfranc of, 231 “Miller’s Tale” (Chaucer), 244 Milner, Matthew, 50– 51 Minnis, Alastair, 61n84, 220 miracles, 33– 34, 53, 213, 251 Mitchell, Laura, 5n12 More, Thomas, 190– 91 motifs, and charms, 5, 28n69, 217, 247– 55 Mount Olivet, 216 narrative charms, 5– 6 Natural History (Pliny the Elder), 83, 86 Nectanabus (magician-king of Libya), 184– 87 Nelson, Marie, 120– 21 Nevill, Mary, 68n94 Nichasius, St., charms, 63– 65, 102 Nicholas of Lyra, 46 nightmare charms, 28– 29n70 Norman Conquest (1066), 89n22, 143, 145– 47, 151, 170, 173– 77, 220, 241 nosebleeds, charms against, 155, 174– 75, 175 occult, and magic, 3 Okasha, Elisabeth, 101– 3 O’Keeffe, Katherine O’Brien, 121 Old Brittonic language, 88 Old English, 93, 97, 100, 119, 127, 131– 33, 138, 146, 154– 55, 164, 193. See also Middle English Old Irish language and charms, 115n89, 165 Old Norse: charms, 93– 94, 250– 51; language, 9, 93– 94, 250– 51 Olsan, Lea T., 103n68, 151, 215– 16, 218n58, 221 Olympias, Queen, 185– 87 Ong, Walter J., 9– 10

296

orality: and charms, 15, 26, 29, 91, 246; and literacy, 9– 10, 187– 88, 249– 50; and written texts, 249– 50 Orality and Literacy (Ong), 9– 10 orthography, 103, 201 Oswald, St., 109 paganism, 36– 37, 73, 115, 132– 33, 213– 14, 243–44 paleography, 27, 146 “Pardoner’s Prologue” (Chaucer), 53 Parkes, Malcolm, 189 Pastoral Care (Gregory), 100 Pater Nosters, 15– 16, 18, 20– 21, 24, 32, 48, 50, 52, 56– 57, 59, 65, 70– 71, 104, 111, 113– 14, 119– 29, 140–41, 152– 53, 155, 158– 59, 161– 62, 165– 66, 168– 71, 175, 194– 96, 199, 201– 6, 208– 9, 216n48, 217n53, 221– 22, 226n71, 237n94, 238– 39, 256 Peperit charms, 5, 17, 110– 11, 170 “Personal and Place Names in English Verbal Charms” (Roper), 204 Peter, St., 89, 163, 201, 207 Philomena (Bradmore), 229– 30 phylacteries, 116 Piers Plowman, 211, 244 pilgrim signs, 54 Pliny the Elder, 83, 86 Polemius, Julius Valerius Alexander, 185 popular culture, 7– 8 Popular Medicine in Thirteenth-Century England (Hunt), 26n61, 146, 152 power: of charms, 11, 15, 18– 19, 29, 81, 97, 101, 106, 127, 129, 143, 147, 170, 176, 196, 199, 201, 241, 252, 257; of charm-words, 31– 81; of church, 19, 42; divine, 17, 70, 72, 132– 33, 252; of languages, 29, 171, 199, 241, 245, 250– 53, 257; of literacy, 188; of Mass, 19, 132; of relics, 31– 81; of religion, 105; sacred, 31, 70, 81; of speech, 94, 119– 21, 249– 50; of supernatural, 35, 41, 105, 184, 245, 250; of texts, 46, 97, 105, 164n39, 178, 187– 88, 247, 249; of words, 1– 2, 9– 10, 18– 22, 26, 29, 34– 42, 81, 83, 86, 90– 91, 97, 101, 104, 112, 116, 119– 32, 136, 143, 164, 170, 201, 204,

index

206, 220, 235, 241, 243– 57; of writing, 119– 29, 176, 249– 50 pox, charms against, 63– 65, 102 practitioners, 3, 7– 8, 10, 25, 33– 35, 41– 42, 58, 138– 39, 142–43, 195, 198, 201, 216n49, 226, 232, 251– 53, 257 prayerbooks, 26n63, 170 prayers, 17, 21– 23, 49– 50, 68, 88– 89, 92, 115, 121, 125– 29, 138– 39, 142, 167, 171– 74, 223; Greek, 10n37, 245– 46; Latin, 196, 199n22, 254 pregnancy. See childbirth profane, and sacred, 33– 34 prognostication, charms for, 17, 133, 148, 176, 237 protection: amulets for, 72, 119n102; charms for, 5, 129, 136– 37, 145, 173, 253– 54; and devotion, 76– 81; signs for, 224, 225. See also danger and evil, protection from; healing and protection; medical and protective charms Protestantism, 188, 253– 54, 256 Pseudo-Apuleius, 130, 145n2 Pseudo-Dioscorides, 130 Pseudo-Theodore, 145n2 Ptolemy, 231 “purified agency,” 211 Pythagoras, Sphere of, 148 Querela divina poems, 78– 79 rabies, charms against, 55n79, 147 rats. See mice and rats, charms against reading: and amuletic benefits, 79, 97; of charms, 1– 29, 78, 101, 189; and materiality, 249; and physical interaction, 60– 61; of remedies, 42; of seals, 179, 225– 26; and writing, 1– 29, 91– 92, 99n54, 101, 104, 188– 89, 226, 249 recipes, 18– 19, 25– 26, 47, 49, 51, 58, 63, 114– 16, 129– 31, 133, 137– 39, 142, 146– 51, 165, 167, 170– 71, 182– 83, 192– 95, 198, 201, 209, 220, 223, 230– 32, 235– 36, 240– 41; charm-, 26, 28, 41– 42, 100, 130, 192– 93, 249, 253; medical, 23, 35, 129, 138, 148, 151, 214, 216, 235, 241 Reformation, 253, 257 relics: and amulets, 51, 81; and charms,

index

52, 62– 63, 81, 105, 129, 245, 248–49; and charm-words, 35– 36; contact, 33– 34, 52– 54, 62; for healing and protection, 34, 72, 81; medieval, 35n14; and miracles, 53; power of, 31– 81; sacred, 33, 35, 40–41, 51– 53, 77, 108, 118; and saints, 62– 63, 70; and superstition, 118; and texts, 40– 41, 62– 72; veneration of, 81; and words, 81, 118 relic water, 53– 55. See also holy water religion: and charms, 3, 14– 15, 22, 42– 62, 105, 146, 257; and magic, 22; power of, 105 Religion and the Decline of Magic (Thomas), 22 remedies, 11– 12, 21, 33, 36, 42, 45, 47, 50– 51, 55, 57– 58, 85– 86, 90– 91, 96, 100, 104, 110, 114, 129– 39, 147, 182, 204, 215– 16, 231– 32, 235–41; access to, 8– 9; charm-, 3; for fever, 238; herbal, 12, 239, 241; liturgical, 131– 36, 143; medical, 25, 112, 142– 43, 237, 241; spoken and verbal, 38, 91, 130– 33, 136– 39, 143, 235– 36, 239; written, 130n131, 137– 38, 240. See also Lacnunga Res gestae Alexandri Magni ( Julius Valerius), 185 Rider, Catherine, 146, 226 rituals, 15, 19, 22– 23, 36– 37, 42–47, 51, 98, 102, 129– 33, 136, 150, 167, 173– 77, 183, 200, 231, 240, 245– 47; and charms, 42, 45, 245; and magic, 173, 177, 187, 223n65; of Mass, 200; verbal, 90. See also ceremonies Robert, St., 68n94 Rolle, Richard, 44 Roman de toute Chevalerie, Le (Thomas of Kent), 184– 85 Romanic languages, 5 Roper, Jonathan, 4, 204 Rosa medicinae ( John of Gaddesden), 218, 226– 27 Rowley, William, 246 Royal Prayer Book, 170 runes: and charms, 92– 98; and magic, 124; Scandinavian, 93 runic: alphabet, 174; characters, 94– 96, 124, 176, 251; curses, 124n114; inscrip-

297

tions, 92, 97– 98; literacy, 97– 98; writing, 92, 97 sacred: Greek word for, 139; languages, 94, 253; power, 31, 70, 81; and profane, 33– 34; relics, 40– 41, 77; texts, 41, 127; words, 39– 40, 117– 19, 184; writing, 59 saints: and charms, 62– 63, 81; and relics, 62– 63, 70 Sammonicus, Quintus Serenus, 84– 86 Saturnalia, 91– 92 Saviour/Savior, St., 68n94, 253– 54 Sawyer, Elizabeth (witch character in play), 256 Scandinavian: language and charms, 176; runes, 93 Scot, Reginald, 253– 54 seals: and amulets, 178– 80; pseudoSolomonic, 177; reading of, 179, 225– 26; and symbols, 177– 80, 220, 223– 25 secrets and secrecy, 11, 150, 172, 229 Sermo 13 (Caesarius of Arles), 116– 17 Sermon on the Mount, Christ’s, 125 Severa, Claudia, 91– 92 Siege of Jerusalem, The, 210– 19 Sir Ferumbras, 244 Skemer, Don C., 7n23, 19, 25, 34, 178n65 Sloane MS 475 (British Library), 50, 55nn78– 79, 59, 89n22, 90n23, 119n102, 137n163, 146n2, 147– 53, 149, 172, 173, 176, 182– 83, 188, 228n77, 248nn20– 21 smallpox, charms against, 63– 65, 102 Smallwood, T. M., 5, 146 snakebites, charms against, 115, 128, 136– 37, 147 Snoek, Godefridus J. C., 62 soldiers, charms for, 128, 214, 219, 257 Solomon and Saturn I, 119– 29 Somniale Danielis, 148 Southumbrian prayerbooks, 26n63 speech: efficacious, 15, 235, 239; and literary composition, 249– 50; power of, 94, 119– 21, 249; and text, 121, 124, 248– 49, 257; vernacular, 253; and writing, 15, 17– 18, 29, 35, 127, 187, 235– 41, 245– 53, 257 Sphere of Pythagoras, 148

298

St. Bartholomew’s Day, 36– 37, 116n95 Steiner, Emily, 44– 55 Stock, Brian, 9– 10 St. Oswald of Worcester (Brooks and Cubitt), 109 Summa confessorum (Chobham), 38–40 Summa Theologica (Aquinas), 40–41, 183– 84, 226n71 supernatural: artifacts, 108; charms, 105, 199– 200, 245, 250– 51, 253; efficacy, 37; and illness, 130, 134– 36, 138, 154, 200, 229; inscriptions, 102; and language, 251, 253; power of, 35, 41, 105, 184, 245, 250; protection, 74; text, 103; and words, 250, 253 Super Petram charm-type, 26n60, 163, 201, 207 superstition: and charms, 245; condemned, 253; and forbidden practices, 112; and hope, 36; and magic, 91; and relics, 118 Sutton Brooch, 89, 98 symbols: and charms, 226; hieroglyphs as divine, 173; runic, 96; and seals, 177– 80, 220, 223– 25; and text, 23; and words, 187; written, 117, 220, 223 Symons, Victoria, 124– 25 Tarsus, Theodore of (archbishop of Canterbury), 112 tetragrammaton, 46, 178– 79, 179, 224n68 texts: ambiguous, 23; boundaries of, 145– 88; charm-, 4n9, 4n12, 23n56, 26– 27, 81, 119n103, 154, 177, 187, 206, 228n77, 243–44, 254– 55; charmcopies, 5; classification of, 23; devilish and non-Christian, 118– 20; devotional, 17; edible, 61n84; efficacious, 3, 15, 19, 25, 35, 85– 86, 88– 90, 94, 97– 98, 100– 103, 117, 131, 139, 154, 170, 189, 219– 20, 231– 32, 234, 239, 241, 248–49, 251– 52, 256; efficacy of, 85– 86, 183; illegible, 181, 226; and images, 177; incomprehensible, 174, 176– 77, 226; and inscriptions, 245; and language, boundaries of, 145– 88; and literacy, 226; literary, 28, 72, 74,

index

81, 105, 147, 187, 216, 244–45; liturgical, 131; and magic, 187; medical and prognostic, 97, 145, 148– 49, 149, 154, 160n28; names as efficacious, 102; and orality, 249– 50; ordinary, 178, 180, 188; power of, 46, 97, 105, 164n39, 178, 187– 88, 247, 249; and relics, 40– 41, 62– 72; sacred, 41– 42, 127; in social and religious culture, 91; social role of, 90– 105; and speech, 121, 124, 248– 49, 257; and symbols, 23; unreadable, 226; written, 15, 17– 23, 35, 41– 42, 46– 47, 63, 71, 76, 81, 88, 102, 126– 27, 137– 39, 142, 170, 238– 39, 249– 50. See also amulets: textual; Anglo-French: texts; English: texts; French: texts; Latin: texts; textual magic textuality, 72, 150, 178– 79, 223, 245. See also materiality textual magic, 3– 4, 83– 143 theft: charms against, 88– 90, 98, 156, 244, 254n34, 257; curse tablets against, 88; inscriptions against, 89, 98 Theodore of Tarsus (archbishop of Canterbury), 112 Theodore’s Penitential, 112 Theodoric of Lucca, 231 Thigat. See Tigath/Acre charm Thomas, Doubting, 67– 68 Thomas, Keith, 22 Thomas, St., 62 Thomas Aquinas. See Aquinas, Thomas Thomas of Canterbury. See Becket, St. Thomas Thomas of Chobham. See Chobham, Thomas of (subdean of Salisbury) Thomas of Kent, 184– 86 Thomas of Lancaster, 62, 68n94 Thorndike, Lynn, 193n15 Thorndike-Kibre database, 27, 193n15 Three Good Brothers charm, 5, 214– 18 Three Magi, 20, 52, 248 Tigath/Acre charm, 165– 69 Tobias (bishop), 10n36 toothache, charms against, 63– 64, 66, 164, 192, 207, 216n50, 236– 37, 239, 246n10, 255

index

Tralles, Alexander of, 146n2 Trevisa, John, 191 Troilus and Criseyde (Chaucer), 232– 35 truth, and belief, 209 tumors, charms against, 152, 213 typology, 6n17, 28n69 Valerius, Julius, 185 Venerable Bede. See Bede, Venerable vernacularization, 154, 189, 191– 210, 252– 53, 255 Veronica charms, 31– 33, 67, 139– 40, 207, 212– 13, 246 Vie de Seint Auban, 244 Virgin Mary, 60, 67– 70, 76– 77, 110, 162, 208– 9 Voigts, Linda Ehrsam, 27n67, 191, 193n15, 199n19 Voigts-Kurtz database, 27 Watkins, Carl, 8 Welsh language, 103– 4, 201 Werburgh, St., 68n94 wishes, charm for, 181 witchcraft and witches, 130n132, 231, 253 Witch of Edmonton, The (Rowley, Dekker, and Ford), 256 words: changing power of, 243– 57; efficacious, 2, 8– 9, 18, 21, 25, 41, 83, 90, 100, 116, 120– 21, 131, 133, 138, 151, 159, 171, 189, 193– 95, 198– 206, 210, 219– 20, 226– 27, 229, 237, 243, 251; efficacy of, 29, 184; and flesh, 62– 72; for healing and protection, 34, 86, 192; incomprehensible, 41, 54, 184– 87; legitimate use of, 38– 39; magical, 85, 255;

299

physical efficacy of, 120; power of, 1– 2, 9– 10, 18– 22, 26, 29, 34–42, 81, 83, 86, 90– 91, 97, 101, 104, 112, 116, 119– 32, 136, 143, 164, 170, 201, 204, 206, 220, 235, 241, 243– 57; and relics, 81, 118; sacred, 22, 39– 40, 117– 19, 127, 184; special, efficacy of, 29; spoken, 15, 29, 35– 36, 41–42, 90– 91, 116, 120, 143, 235– 41, 245– 50; and supernatural, 250, 253; and symbols, 187; unfamiliar, 40, 115, 183– 84, 231; unknown, 3, 28, 93– 94, 115– 16, 164, 172– 81, 184, 187, 219– 32, 241, 256; vernacular, 28– 29, 251, 255; written, 3– 4, 9– 11, 21– 22, 35– 36, 41, 91, 119– 29, 137, 143, 154, 172, 188, 220, 235– 41, 245– 50, 253, 257. See also alphabets; charm-words; languages; letters wounds, charms against, 5, 24, 129– 30, 147, 166, 192, 195, 198, 199n22, 200– 209, 214– 18, 231, 236– 37, 247 writing: devil’s, 119; and the divine, 42; efficacious, 35, 116, 119, 154, 170; heavenly, 72, 178, 180; illegible, 180– 81; and languages, 93– 94, 186– 87, 257; magical, 187; materiality of, 233n86; potency of, 125; power of, 119– 29, 176, 249– 50; and reading, 1– 29, 91– 92, 99n54, 101, 104, 188– 89, 226, 249; runic, 92, 97; sacred, 59; and social positions, 104– 5; and speech, 15, 17– 18, 29, 35, 127, 187, 235– 41, 245– 53, 257; unfamiliar, 150. See also charms: textual; words: written Zacher, Julius, 185– 86