How Cross-Dressing Helped Send Joan of Arc to the Stake

Hulton Archive/Getty Images
Hulton Archive/Getty Images

Joan of Arc is best remembered for leading French troops to victory in the Hundred Years War. Although many know about the religious visions she began to experience as a young woman, her courageous deeds in battle, and her execution at the stake, fewer know that one of the most damaging charges at her trial had to do with her clothes.

Dressing in a man’s tunic and hose was more than a fashion statement for Joan. When she was born in Domrémy, a village straddling the border between France and the Holy Roman Empire, around 1412, the Hundred Years War between France and England had already lasted 75 years. The French House of Burgundy, allied with the English monarch Henry V, controlled the northern part of France, while those loyal to the reigning French royalty controlled the south. The French had not achieved a single victory in more than a generation, and their prospects seemed so bleak that in 1420 Henry V and Charles VI signed the Treaty of Troyes, proclaiming Henry as Charles’s successor. The Crown Prince, Charles VII, rejected his father’s decree and declared himself the true ruler of France.

In 1425, a devout 13-year-old Joan first heard the voices of saints, urging her to lead troops into battle. At 17 years old, she convinced Sir Robert de Baudricourt, commander of a royal garrison, to let her go see Charles VII. While traveling to court, she began to dress like a man.

The prince was skeptical of Joan but desperate for a way to end the war, so he arranged for her to accompany his armed forces. The young woman, clad in armor, carrying a white banner embroidered with fleurs-de-lis, inspired the downtrodden troops, offering key motivation in the decisive battle of Orléans in 1429. After a series of other victorious battles, Joan helped Charles VII hold his coronation, standing near him during the ceremonies.

But the war wasn’t won, and the Burgundians captured Joan during a skirmish outside Compiègne. They delivered her to the English, who turned her over to an ecclesiastical court at Rouen, which tried her for heresy and witchcraft.

When her captors asked why she wore men’s clothing, Joan replied, “Dress is but a small matter.” But upon repeated questioning, she hinted that wearing female garb imperiled her chastity. (The soldier’s clothing she wore included a complicated series of straps connecting the hose and tunic—much harder to take off than a dress.) When told she could not attend mass unless she wore a dress, she said, “the dress of those who receive the Sacrament can have no importance.”

Her inquisitors disagreed.

After threats of torture and rounds of cross examination, Joan signed a document denying her visions and agreeing not to wear men’s clothes. She was sentenced to life imprisonment, but avoided execution. However, within a few days, possibly after some unwanted male advances from prison guards, but more likely because she didn’t understand what she’d signed and hadn’t been allowed to attend Mass even if she wore female clothes, she returned to the tunic and hose. At the same time, it was discovered that she was still hearing voices. Frustrated by her relapse into heresy—both because she continued to wear men’s clothes and continued to claim hearing voices of saints—the pro-English Bishop of Beauvais, Pierre Cauchon, decided to excommunicate and then execute her, partly for the heresy of wearing men’s clothes.

The charge was defying the Biblical verse Deuteronomy 22:5, which said that women should not wear “that which pertaineth unto a man.” Cross-dressing was generally frowned upon by medieval church and state, but there’s no record of it being prosecuted or leading directly to a death sentence. Even religious scholars agreed it was sometimes necessary: In Summa Theologica, the priest St. Thomas Aquinas wrote that women wearing men’s clothes were sinful, but said it might be done sometimes “without sin on account of some necessity, either in order to hide oneself from enemies, or through lack of other clothes, or for some similar motive."

Despite the theological wiggle room, Joan’s captors continued to harp on the sinfulness of her chosen wardrobe. During questioning before her second trial, they asked why she resumed wearing men’s dress, and she responded that it was "more lawful and suitable for me to resume it and to wear man's dress, being with men, than to have a woman's dress."

The bishop determined that the devil persuaded her to dress like a man, and declared her a relapsed heretic. Joan was sentenced to death, and at the age of 19, on May 30, 1431, she was burned at the stake—reportedly wearing a dress. As a heretic she could not be buried in holy ground, so her ashes were thrown into the river Seine.

Charles VII eventually helped overturn her sentence. In 1449, 18 years after her death, the French recaptured the city of Rouen—and he asked that the heresy ruling be overturned so it wouldn’t tarnish his claim to the throne. In 1456 a Trial of Rehabilitation declared Joan innocent, and in 1920 the Catholic Church canonized her as a saint. She’s now the patron saint of France, soldiers, and prisoners.

Despite the reversal of Joan’s sentence, it would be centuries before women could wear men’s clothes in public without causing a scandal. In fact, a French law forbidding women from wearing pants remained on the books until 2013. The law required Parisian women to ask permission from city authorities before “dressing as men,” and stipulated that they could not wear trousers unless “holding a bicycle handlebar or the reins of a horse.” Joan of Arc wouldn’t have been pleased; there was no exception for divine missions.

7 Terrifying Historical Remedies for Migraine Headaches

George Marks/Getty Images
George Marks/Getty Images

Migraines are more than just splitting headaches. Migraine symptoms, which affect about one in seven people worldwide, can include throbbing pain on one side of the head, nausea, sensitivity to light and sound, and visual disturbances called auras. Today, several classes of drugs are prescribed to either prevent migraine headaches from happening or halt them once they’ve started. But in previous centuries, migraine treatments weren’t so convenient—or effective.

1. Bloodletting

Whether by scalpel or by leeches, bloodletting was the most common remedy for migraine headaches (and many other ailments) before the advent of modern medicine. Throughout most of history, Western physicians subscribed to the humoral theory, in which human health was governed by four fluids (humors) that must be kept in balance. Sickness was explained as an imbalance of humors, and bloodletting was thought to rebalance the system. The methods varied, though. In the case of migraine headaches, the Greek physician Aretaeus suggested sticking a barbed goose feather up the unfortunate patient’s nose and prodding around until blood flowed.

Even as late as the 18th century, bloodletting was still believed to help migraines. Swiss physician Samuel Auguste Tissot, who was the first to describe migraines as a discrete medical condition in the 1770s, recommended bleeding, better hygiene and diet, and drugs including infusions of orange leaves and valerian.

2. Garlic

The 11th-century physician Abu al-Qasim suggested sticking a clove of garlic into the migraine headache sufferer’s temple. He offered a handy recipe:

“Take a garlic; peel and cut at both extremities. Make an incision with a large scalpel in the temple and keep under the skin a cavity wide enough to introduce the garlic and to conceal it completely. Apply compresses and tighten, let it remain about 15 hours, then remove the device. Extract the garlic, leave the wound for two or three days, then apply cotton soaked in butter until it suppurates.”

Once the wound started oozing—which was considered a good sign—the physician would cauterize the incision with a hot iron. Cauterization was meant to prevent infection, although modern research has shown that it actually lowers the threshold for bacterial infections.

3. Cupping

Cupping—inverting hot glass vessels on the patients’ body—was thought to perform the same function as bloodletting. Prominent Dutch physician Nicolaes Tulp, depicted in Rembrandt’s 1632 painting The Anatomy Lesson of Dr. Nicolaes Tulp, treated a migraine sufferer by cupping. She soon recovered.

A substance called cantharidin, a potent blistering agent secreted by the Meloidae family of beetles, was also applied as part of the cupping and blistering process to draw out bad humors. Unfortunately, if the cantharidin was left on too long, it could be absorbed into the body and cause painful urination, gastrointestinal and renal dysfunction, and organ failure. (Perhaps unrelatedly, cantharidin was also used as an aphrodisiac.)

4. Trepanation

One of the oldest types of surgery, trepanation is the practice of cutting away part of the cranium and exposing brain tissue to treat injuries or chronic conditions like migraine headaches. The 16th-century Dutch physician Petrus Forestus, who meticulously recorded the ailments and treatments of his patients, performed trepanation on a person with incurable migraines. In the brain tissue he found something he called a “black worm.” According to a 2010 study by neurologist Peter J. Koehler, the mass may have been a chronic subdural hematoma—a collection of blood between the surface of the brain and its outermost covering—and a possible cause of the patient’s agony.

5. Dead Moles

Ali ibn Isa al-Kahhal, the leading ophthalmologist of the medieval Muslim world, described more than 130 eye diseases and treatments in his groundbreaking monograph Tadhkirat al-kaḥḥālīn (The Notebook of the Oculists). While his descriptions of ocular anatomy were sound, he also touched on remedies for headaches, and here his prescriptions seem more suspect. To treat migraines, he suggested tying a dead mole to one’s head.

6. Electric Fish

Long before scientists fully understood the principles of electricity, ancient doctors recommended it as a remedy for migraines. Scribonius Largus, the court physician for the Roman emperor Claudius, saw that the torpedo fish—also known as the electric ray, native to the Mediterranean Sea among other areas—had the power to shock anyone who touched it. Largus and other doctors prescribed the shocks as cures for headache, gout, and prolapsed anus.

In the mid-18th century, a Dutch journal reported that the electric eel, found in South America, emitted even stronger shocks than the Mediterranean fish and were used for head pain. One observer wrote that headache sufferers “put one of their hands on their head and the other on the fish, and thereby will be helped immediately, without exception.”

7. Mud Foot-Baths

Compared to expired rodents, warm foot-baths must have sounded positively decadent to those afflicted with extreme pain. Nineteenth-century physicians suggested that migraine sufferers take the waters at Marienbad (now Mariánské Lázně) and Karlsbad (now Karlovy Vary), two spa towns in what is now the Czech Republic. While the mineral waters were useful for alleviating congestive headaches, mud foot-baths were believed to draw blood toward the feet and away from the head, calming the nervous system. “The foot-bath ought not to be taken too hot, and the feet should be rubbed one over the other while washing the mud off, and afterwards with a coarse towel. A brisk walk may be used to keep up the circulation,” suggested Prussian Army physician Apollinaris Victor Jagielski, M.D. in 1873.

Who Stole My Cheese? Archivists Are Cataloging 200 Years of Criminal Records From the Isle of Ely

Internet Archive Book Images via Flickr, Wikimedia Commons
Internet Archive Book Images via Flickr, Wikimedia Commons

And you thought your parents were strict. In 16th century England, the same courts that tried murderers were also tasked with getting to the bottom of cheese thefts.

As The Guardian reports, archivists from the University of Cambridge have begun cataloging close to 270 court documents from the Isle of Ely, a historic region of England known for its magnificent, gothic-style cathedral as well as being the home of Oliver Cromwell for more than a decade (Cromwell was appointed governor of the isle in 1643).

Some of the documents, which are dated from 1557 to 1775, relate to matters that may seem macabre—or even ridiculous—in the modern world. But they offer a keen insight into the area's past. "This project enables us to hear the voices of people from all backgrounds ... long dead and forgotten, and for whom there is no other surviving record," archivist Sian Collins told The Guardian.

One such person was yeoman John Webbe, who was charged with defamation by one William Tyler after Tyler's wife, Joan, overheard Webbe tell someone that: "Tyler thy husband is a knave, a rascall & a thief for he stole my goodes thefyshely [thievishly] in the night."

Then there was poor William Sturns, whose only crime was a hunger that led him to steal three cheeses; ultimately, he was deemed not guilty. "Unfortunately we don’t know what type of cheese it was," Collins told Atlas Obscura. "But cheesemaking was fairly common in the area at the time."

Not all of Ely's court cases were about backtalk and dairy products, though. The university’s website details how in 1577, Margaret Cotte was accused of using witchcraft to kill Martha Johnson, the daughter of a local blacksmith. Margaret was eventually found not guilty, which is part of what makes this project so important.

"Martha and Margaret may not appear in any other records," Collins said. "This is all we know about them."

[h/t The Guardian]

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