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<article dtd-version="1.1" article-type="book-review">
  <front>
    <journal-meta>
      <journal-id>TMR</journal-id>
      <journal-title-group>
        <journal-title>The Medieval Review</journal-title>
      </journal-title-group>
      <issn pub-type="epub">1096-746X</issn>
      <publisher>
        <publisher-name>Indiana University</publisher-name>
      </publisher>
    </journal-meta>
    <article-meta>
      <article-id pub-id-type="publisher-id">12.04.02</article-id>
      <title-group>
        <article-title>12.04.02, Seabourne, Imprisoning Medieval Women (Caroline Dunn)</article-title>
      </title-group>
      <contrib-group>
        <contrib contrib-type="author">
          <name>
            <surname>Dunn</surname>
            <given-names/>
          </name>
          <aff>Clemson University</aff>
          <address>
            <email>CDUNN@clemson.edu</email>
          </address>
        </contrib>
      </contrib-group>
      <pub-date publication-format="epub" date-type="pub" iso-8601-date="2012">
        <year>2012</year>
      </pub-date>
      <product product-type="book">
        <person-group>
          <name>
            <surname>Seabourne, Gwen</surname>
            <given-names/>
          </name>
        </person-group>
        <source>Imprisoning Medieval Women: The Non-Judicial Confinement and Abduction of Women in England, c. 1170-1509, </source>
        <year iso-8601-date="2011">2011</year>
        <publisher-loc>Burlington, VT</publisher-loc>
        <publisher-name>Ashgate Publishing Company</publisher-name>
        <page-range>Pp. xiv, 219</page-range>
        <price>$124.95</price>
        <isbn>978-1-4094-1788-0</isbn>
      </product>
      <permissions>
        <copyright-statement>Copyright 2012 Trustees of Indiana University. Indiana University provides the information contained in this file for non-commercial, personal, or research use only. All other use, including but not limited to commercial or scholarly reproductions, redistribution, publication or transmission, whether by electronic means or otherwise, without prior written permission of the copyright holder is strictly prohibited.</copyright-statement>
      </permissions>
    </article-meta>
  </front>
  <body>
    <p>

In her preface, Gwen Seabourne describes how she came to her topic
after learning of the plight of Eleanor of Brittany, who was held
captive for years by her uncle, King John. Eleanor reappears
throughout this book but Seabourne here has significantly expanded
upon her research into Eleanors life to investigate the diverse
experiences of those medieval women who were taken captive,
imprisoned, or confined in contexts of war, national politics,
personal legal quarrels, or troubled family relationships. In addition
to building her analysis upon an extensive and varied body of primary
sources, the strengths of this book lie primarily in two areas. First,
the themes that pertain to politically significant high-status
captives like Eleanor of Brittany are particularly well examined.
Second, Seabourne approaches the topic of imprisoned women as a legal
scholar and her analysis of statutes relating to abduction and
imprisonment, especially regarding the genesis of pertinent
legislation, is insightful and elegant.</p>
    <p>

The intersection of Seabourne's interests in legal history and women's
history is clear from how she frames her introduction. After
explaining her topic and chronological boundaries (from Henry II to
just before Henry VIII--both reigns associated with common law
innovations), Seabourne highlights how her subject encompasses two
historiographical trends. First she addresses the long-standing
conversation over clauses relating to liberty and imprisonment in
Magna Carta, concepts of due process in medieval England, and how
women fitted into existing legal norms. Seabourne then turns to a
shorter section on recent debates about the role of women in history.
Here she briefly outlines the continuity/transformation and
victim/agent debates that have characterized scholarship on medieval
women in recent years, although she offers her perspective on neither.
Seabourne makes it clear throughout the text, however, and especially
in her concluding two chapters, that she believes that scholars
(myself included) have gone too far in arguing against an all-
pervasive model of female subjugation and objectification. Since
Seabourne leaves this subject for the end of her book I will likewise
return to this theme at the end of the review.</p>
    <p>

Seabourne divides her book into three parts. Part I, "By Royal Power
and Command: Maidens (and Other Women) in Towers," considers women
taken and imprisoned by royal authority and this section contains two
of Seabourne's strongest chapters along with her weakest. Chapter 1
focuses on the role of women in warfare and its opening covers the
neglected area of the treatment of women during armed conflicts.
Seabourne outlines the lack of a clear and widespread canonical or
chivalric policy covering female noncombatants. Even if some argued in
favor of protecting (at least well-born) women, these dictates were
not followed consistently. The rest of Chapter 1 focuses on the
noblewomen who were confined because they or their family members
rebelled against the king. Here Seabourne includes stories about women
like Eleanor of Aquitaine, Eleanor de Montfort, Robert Bruce's female
relations, and Eleanor Cobham (a fifteenth-century duchess of
Gloucester). This analysis of the treatment of female rebels is unique
and insightful. Although held captive (without due process) because of
their actual involvement in rebellions or their potential for aiding
rebels, women rarely served as official hostages when peace was
negotiated. Seabourne makes the valid point, however, that women might
be held as unofficial hostages, using several examples of women who
came to England as prospective brides but whose marriages were delayed
or (like Richard I's betrothed Alice) never contracted.</p>
    <p>

Seabourne's discussion of the conditions of confinement, also explored
in Part I, is revealing and interesting, with the section on
provisions particularly illuminating. Seabourne also addresses issues
of securing the prisoners and complaints of mistreatment. Her longer
case study of Edward I's imprisonment of Robert Bruce's relations--
Mary and Marjorie Bruce and Isabel, countess of Buchan--in cages
provides an excellent cogent analysis of this notorious treatment.</p>
    <p>

There is some repetition in Part I. For example the daughters of
William the Lion are covered twice (46 and 50) and the first section
of Chapter 3, which examines captivity locations, seems unnecessary
when the previous chapter often covered whether rebels or potential
rebels were held in castles or sent to convents. Chapter 2, on royal
wardship and idiocy guardianship, is less satisfactory than the other
two chapters exploring royally sanctioned confinement. Both forms of
guardianship related to aspects of land tenure that were not limited
to royal guardians, and while the mentally incapacitated were
sometimes confined, wards were rarely imprisoned. They could be
abducted but Seabourne saves the topic of ward-theft for a later
chapter. Seabourne discusses royal wardship and custody of idiots too
cursorily here to be of any use (the chapter is barely six pages
long). The cases she includes here should have been discussed
elsewhere or omitted.</p>
    <p>

Part II, "Wrongful Imprisonment and Abduction: Legal Responses and
their Limits," brings us back to Seabourne's strengths. Her legal
analysis of laws and cases is strong and here she discusses a more
socially diverse group of women than the royals and nobles that were
the focus of Part I. Chapter 4 covers legislation introduced to deal
with the ravishment of wards and of women and Seabourne elegantly
argues that lawmakers were particularly concerned with property
interests that accompanied possession of the stolen ward, wife, or
daughter rather than the safety or potential collusion of the alleged
victim. Seabourne's suggestion that the anti-ravishment legislation
was often enacted at times when the king wished to bolster his royal
authority is particularly insightful. The authoritarian claims of the
legislating monarch Edward I are well known but the timing of later
statutes (1382, 1453, 1487) correspond well with her argument that
weaker royal governments were making attempts to win over the
propertied classes by promising them swift royal justice that would
guarantee property protection.</p>
    <p>

In moving from statutes to resulting court cases (Chapter 5: Common
Law) Seabourne is nearly as adept. Even though her subject is the
captivity of women she acknowledges that men were far more likely to
be abducted or imprisoned. We see this admission regarding noble
hostages in Part I and it appears again in Part II when men far
outnumber women in wrongful imprisonment actions and cases alleging
the abduction of servants. Seabourne's tables outlining the number of
pleas she found for these types of cases, separated into columns for
males and females, underscore this sexual discrepancy, but the
discrepancy should have been highlighted with totals at the bottom.
Thus Table 5.1 (108) charting "alleged instances of false
imprisonment" would show 321 males outnumbering 50 female victims. The
following subsection reveals a similar gender ratio in the taking of
servants. Interestingly, although men outnumber female servants in
both instances, the actions that allege "taking and imprisoning"
reveal a far higher ratio of men than the actions alleging "taking and
abducting." Seabourne, discussing the existence of two different
actions meaning almost the same thing, notes that the "taking and
abducting" cases correspond to post-Black-Death demographic patterns,
but she fails to account for how the discursive shift parallels an
increase in female victims. It would be helpful if she provided, here
and elsewhere, the original Latin terms used for these allegations.</p>
    <p>

Seabourne's analysis of how the ravishment-of-wife cases rise and fall
in the plea rolls matches the chronological trend that I have also
uncovered, although Seabourne links the rising pattern to a prevalence
of actual cases whereas I see many of them as fictitious. Seabourne is
surely correct in her assertion that after actions for wife-theft
declined, petitioners and lawmakers became more concerned about the
abductions of single women. Yet her argument that "those looking to
enrich themselves by controlling a woman's wealth might then have
preferred to target single women" (122) imprecisely links the
motivations of wife-abductors with those of captors of single women.
Those taking fifteenth-century women were targeting propertied elite
widows but most wife-theft cases involve women of common status.
Seabourne briefly addresses the social status of both alleged victims
and defendants in a subsequent section. In that discussion she
considers, for example, how clerics evaded secular punishment through
benefit of clergy but does not highlight the high proportion of
clerics who numbered among the alleged ravishers of women.</p>
    <p>

Seabourne continues to focus on allegations of abduction and
imprisonment in Chapter 6 but describes what happened when petitioners
sought to resolve cases outside the common law. She considers how
accessories and attempted abduction fell outside the purview of
existing legal actions and illustrates concerns about official
misconduct and intimidation of jurors or litigants by powerful elites.
The chapter contains interesting and insightful information but lacks
a sense of chronology. For example, Seabourne fails to note, when
discussing high rates of imprisonment and abduction allegations and
resulting oyer and terminer commissions from the early fourteenth
century, that this particular type of commission was common during
those years for all types of alleged crimes.</p>
    <p>

In Chapter 7 Seabourne returns to the historiographical debate
regarding women's victimization versus empowerment when she considers
the imprisonment and especially abduction cases that some scholars
have interpreted as collusive. She overstates the extent to which
previous authors have interpreted cases as consensual. Seabourne
astutely highlights how ideas and vocabulary of consent have changed
over time, that some of the terser narratives make it impossible to
classify the woman as victim or agent, and that some narratives offer
such conflicting stories that "what really happened" can be asserted
only by an imprudent scholar. However, Seabourne's allegation that
those who interpret some cases as collusive are failing to consider
the nuances of how the meaning of consent might have changed over
time, or are relying upon "questionable assumptions about the facts of
the case" (161), is unjustified. Earlier historians have not merely
assumed but have combed through the available evidence and employed
inductive reasoning before proposing that many cases of abduction
could have been collusive.</p>
    <p>

The question of consent appears again in Seabourne's Chapter 8 (the
sole chapter in Part III: Other Roles). Seabourne begins by
considering women confined in convents and again challenges current
viewpoints that stress female agency over victimization. In this case
Seabourne is emphasizing the passivity of women forced into nunneries,
countering recent studies by Barbara Harris and Marilyn Oliva that
focus on the agency of women to choose the monastic life voluntarily.
When Seabourne presents one case of a nun running off from her convent
with a local barber (170), she provides evidence for lack of consent
to monastic life but in doing so unfortunately contradicts her earlier
arguments against the possibility of collusive abductions. The
additional "other roles" that Seabourne considers here return her to
noble and royal families when she discusses women as captors or the
activities of women whose relatives were confined.</p>
    <p>

Seabourne concludes with an exploration of gender and why it is useful
to consider women as captives, captors, abductors, and abductees even
when men also found themselves in these roles during the English
middle ages. She outlines what she terms a model of "dangerous
weakness" that she sees in male attitudes to women and their abduction
and imprisonment. Women were both dangerous and weak in their
susceptibility to capture and thus lawmakers and men in power felt
that women should be both blamed and protected. In her conclusion
Seabourne also considers how various phases in a woman's lifecycle
could be relevant to her experiences but she does not use lifecycle
status as a particular category of analysis earlier in the text.</p>
    <p>

Finally, Seabourne presents the reader with an appendix discussing the
problematic Latin term <italic> raptus</italic> , in which she considers the
question of conflation of modern concerns of rape and abduction
together in the medieval term. Contrary to earlier scholarship, she
postulates that late thirteenth-century statutes do not conflate the
two concepts under the umbrella term of <italic> raptus</italic> . Seabourne
suggests that <italic> raptus</italic>  was meant to indicate that what occurred
was "something more outrageous than abduction, though the 'extra
something' varied with gender" (195). In the case of male wards it
might mean force; in the case of women it might indicate sex or threat
of rape. I suspect that this hypothesis will not garner wide support
among those studying ravishment.</p>
    <p>

Since <italic> raptus</italic>  is a notoriously difficult term to interpret and
with so many additional terms used to denote both abduction and sexual
violence in late medieval England it would be useful to see the
original Latin or vernacular vocabulary in the footnotes. When
discussing the (French vernacular) petition of Isabel Cleterne, who
complained that she had been "forcibly seized" it would be valuable to
know if the original terminology employed the term <italic> ravie</italic> , most
often associated with the taking of women, or if more gender-neutral
vocabulary was used. The distinction matters when Seabourne uses
Cleternes petition to highlight a particular "female vulnerability to
abduction and confinement" (2). Furthermore when discussing the well-
known case of Jane Boy's ravishment (154), Seabourne seems to
interpret the text describing how Jane "consented to the
<italic> raptus</italic> " as consenting to rape, rather than to abduction
(elopement).</p>
    <p>

Taking on a topic that covers multifaceted experiences of women of all
degrees of social status over three hundred years is ambitious and
some parts of Seabourne's book are more successful than others.
Organizing the abundance of material is one area that meets with less
success since there are some areas of repetition with topics
(wardship, nuns) covered across two or three parts of the book. Some
small errors might have been saved by enhanced copy-editing. A period
comes mid-sentence (7), the scholar Judith Evans Grubbs is
rechristened Jane (112), and surely Seabourne meant to say that
noblewomen were always susceptible or vulnerable to confinement rather
than "noblewomen were always amenable to confinement" (85). Yet these
are quibbles when overall Seabourne has presented students and
scholars with a very readable text. This would be a useful and
informative book for undergraduates in a women's history course or for
scholars seeking evidence of women's place in the legal and political
culture of medieval England.

</p>
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