Enclosed Gardens and Pilgrim Badges

looking closely at an enclosed garden (Besloten Hofje) at Sint-Dimpnakerk, Geel

When I visited Sint-Dimpnakerk (The Church of Saint Dymphna) in Geel, Belgium at the end of May to learn more about the church and the history surrounding Saint Dymphna, I did not anticipate finding six pilgrim badges in a sixteenth-century enclosed garden (Besloten Hofje) in a corner of the church. Though these were not Saint Dymphna pilgrim badges, my attention quickly turned towards them as I tried to discern what they were and where they had come from.

Enclosed gardens are a type of reliquary altarpiece found in houses of religious women in the late fifteenth and sixteenth centuries in the Low Countries. [1] The enclosed garden in Sint-Dimpnakerk was made in the first quarter of the sixteenth century in Mechelen, Belgium. Enclosed gardens have certain shared characteristics: “Small wooden boxes frame not only relics but also wax seals, jewellery, poupées de Malines [polychrome statuette], glass beads and pilgrim badges against a textile background of silk vegetation.”[2] The name ‘enclosed garden’ and the garden iconography central to them refer back to the hortus conclusus of the Song of Solomon (see verse 4:12). The Sint-Dimpnakerk enclosed garden evokes for the maker and viewer a fusion between Christ the bridegroom (displayed here in his Passion) and the church as his bride.

Sint-Dimpnakerk enclosed garden (Besloten Hofje), Geel, Belgium. Partly from the first quarter of the 16th century, Mechelen, Belgium, circa. . Partly restored and supplemented ca. 1863 by E.H. Theodoor Kuyl. Photograph: Hannah Gardiner.

The Sint-Dimpnakerk enclosed garden has been largely overlooked by scholarship, which explains why most of its badges haven’t yet been documented. It is outshined at Sint-Dimpnakerk by the impressive early sixteenth-century oak altarpiece depicting the story of Dymphna. It is also outshined by the seven famous, enclosed gardens of Mechelen, which have been preserved and restored and are now displayed at the Museum Hof van Busleyden (Mechelen).

The colours of the Sint-Dimpnakerk enclosed garden are faded from light, though its components remain well intact. Six saints stand beneath a crucified Christ amid bright flowers, fabric relics, and pilgrim badges. The badges are camouflaged in the garden scene and difficult to see even from the vantage point of the altar. I returned to the church at different hours of daylight to look into the enclosed garden and found a new badge each time. Some badges are carefully sewn into the flowers surrounding them. Others are placed nearby other relics and appear as a sort of backdrop for the saints. Here badges live a second life different from their first one as pilgrim souvenirs.

Where did these pilgrim badges come from? How long had these badges been kept and why? How did religious women making these enclosed gardens come across them? How did the restoration and supplementation by E.H. Theodoor Kuyl in 1863 affect the badges? I knew I could find an answer to the first question, perhaps the only answerable one. I first consulted the Kunera database to see whether the badges, or ones similar to them, had been documented. I contacted Dr. Hanneke Van Asperen at Radboud University for help identifying the badges’ origins. The captions accompanying the gallery of six photographs below contain her initial answers.

Pewter badge, reliquary head of Servatius as bishop with beard flanked by angels, one holding key, bit turned upwards, and the other holding a crosier in round frame, attachment unknown, Maastricht, the Netherlands 1500-1524 (according to Koldeweij), found location unknown, measurements unknown (Kunera 05981). Besloten Hofje, Sint-Dimpnakerk, Geel.

Metal badge, enthroned Mary with Child sitting on her left side in round badge. Besloten Hofje, Sint-Dimpnakerk, Geel.

Hanneke Van Asperen pointed to two similarly enthroned Mary badges with the inscription, ‘DE HAL’, from Halle (Belgium) about forty kilometres south-west of Mechelen. See Kunera 15229 and 13792. No identical badge could be found on the database.

Pewter badge, dotted hexagonal frame decorated with rows of pearls and with dot-in-circles along the corners. Besloten Hofje, Sint-Dimpnakerk, Geel.

Hanneke Van Asperen pointed out that if you look closely, there appears to be a “vague image of a tunic (in unidentified material: paper? parchment?),” indicating this is a badge from Aachen, Germany. For some other badges where tunic is the central image, see Kunera 03496, 25814, 05061. For a badge with a similar shape, see Kunera 25312v. No identical badge could be found on the database.

Metal badge, Madonna and Child on oval aureole pendant. Besloten Hofje, Sint-Dimpnakerk, Geel.

There are several badges in the Kunera database with very similar imagery: see Kunera 00433r and 00433v; 00434r and 00434v; 04386r and 04386v; 04686r and 04686v. Verso of all these badges depict a tunic of the Virgin Mary, indicating provenance in Aachen, Germany. No identical badge could be found on the database.

Stamped round badge, Madonna and Child. Besloten Hofje, Sint-Dimpnakerk, Geel.

Dr. Van Asperen points to Kunera 16748 as an identical badge. Further information about these badges is unknown.

Round badge, possible depiction of the Virgin enthroned or what I think may be an Anna Selbdritt (Saint Anne with Virgin Mary and Christ Child), Düren(?). Besloten Hofje, Sint-Dimpnakerk, Geel.

Further information about this badge is unknown.

Though pilgrim badges are commonly found in enclosed gardens, discovering these new badges at Sint-Dimpnakerk was a very welcomed surprise on the research trip. There remains much fruitful study to be undertaken about the role of badges in this enclosed garden and the afterlife they live there and elsewhere — something I will be reflecting on in an upcoming blog post.

Works Cited

[1] “Enclosed Gardens of Mechelen (kikirpa.be).” Royal Institute for Cultural Heritage, KIK-IRPA.
[2] “Enclosed Gardens (kikirpa.be).” Royal Institute for Cultural Heritage, KIK-IRPA.
[3] Personal communication with Dr. Hanneke Van Asperen.

Sculpture group of the Martyrdom of Saint Dymphna. Dymphna, sandstone, Master Merten, early 16th century, 86 x 67 x 37 cm. King, wood, Thomas Hazaert, Mechelen (BE), 1609-1610, 124 x 44 x 30 cm. Gasthuismuseum Geel, Collection Gasthuiszusters Augustinessen Geel, inv. 03899.

I am very grateful to Maria Gerits and Frie Van Ravensteyn for the time and knowledge they shared with me during my stay in Geel. Another thanks is owed to Jolien Hoekx and Julie Cooymans at the Gasthuismuseum for their help before I arrived.

Written by Hannah Gardiner. Edited by Dr. Ann Marie Rasmussen. All photographs by Hannah Gardiner.

Saint Dymphna, lost heads, and material revelation

Sint-Dimpnakerk, Geel, Belgium. Image courtesy of WikiCommons.

SAINT DYMPHNA, LOST HEADS, AND MATERIAL REVELATION

Two years ago, I became interested in several Saint Job pilgrim badges from a village church in Wezemaal, Belgium. This church saw throngs of medieval pilgrims flock to its site for healing and protection from physical ailments. I now find myself drawn to another pilgrimage site just thirty-five kilometres north of Wezemaal in Geel, Belgium, where pilgrims flocked not for healing of their bodies, but of their minds. Sint-Dimpnakerk (the Church of Saint Dymphna) marks where the legendary seventh-century Dymphna is honoured as both patron saint of the city and of mental illness.

According to tradition, Dymphna was an Irish princess, born to the pagan king and his devout Christian wife. Following her mother’s death and her father’s subsequent incestuous advances towards her, Dymphna is said to have fled to Antwerp with her confessor to maintain her Christian vows. Her father and his men eventually found them near Geel and when Dymphna again refused him, martyred them both – cutting off her head.

The gothic church honouring Dymphna was erected in the fourteenth-century. Pilgrims would visit her relics at the church for healing from mental illnesses. Some legends suggest that she could heal mental illness because she was able to resist her insane father; others suggest that people with mental illnesses were healed at her beheading. That which ties Dymphna to mental illness is thought by art historian Katharina Van Cauteren to be her head. Van Cauteren writes, “It is not clear why Dymphna was elevated to her position as patron saint of the mentally ill. Perhaps it was because she lost her head. Many saints are supposed to protect against the physical torments that killed them or the agonies they endured.”[1] Regardless of the provenance of this association, the connection between Dymphna and those with mental illness has left a strong legacy in Geel. Geel has been recognized internationally for its community-based care model for people with mental illnesses. The home-based care that continues today stems from the pilgrimages in the late Middle Ages, when an overflow of pilgrims seeking healing would be taken in and cared for by its citizens.

I was drawn to Saint Dymphna and so turned my attention to the thirty-nine surviving pilgrim badges of Dymphna listed on the Kunera database. Niels Schalley points out certain iconographic traits that are common to Dymphna representations – such as a sword (indicating Dymphna’s beheading); a devil (madness); a crown (nobility); and a Bible (virtue) – which are likewise seen in the pilgrim badges.[2] When looking through the badges online, I noticed another trait that several of the badges curiously had in common: Dymphna’s headlessness.

Pewter badge, Dymphna with sword standing on devil in gothic frame with pilgrim on her left, inscription [S DY]MPNE TE G[EEL], Geel, Belgium, 1400-1449, found in Rotterdam, the Netherlands, 29 x 37 mm. Van Beuningen Family Collection, inv. 2348 (Kunera 00181). Photograph courtesy of the Van Beuningen Family Collection.

Pewter badge, crowned Dymphna with sword standing on devil in a gothic frame, Geel, Belgium, 1400-1449, found in Nieuwlande, the Netherlands, 30 x 38 mm. Van Beuningen Family Collection, inv. 1377 (Kunera 24437). Photograph courtesy of the Van Beuningen Family Collection.

Pewter badge, Dymphna with sword standing on devil in gothic frame with pilgrim on her left, inscription SANCTE DYMP[NA], Geel, Belgium, 1400-1449, found in Nieuwlande, the Netherlands, 30 x 33 mm. Van Beuningen Family Collection, inv. 0065 (Kunera 00180). Photograph courtesy of the Van Beuningen Family Collection.

Above are three of the nine surviving badges from the Kunera database where Saint Dymphna is headless. A headless pilgrim badge is surely not unusual. One can find many headless figures in surviving badges: birds, knights, angels, saints like Servatius and Bridget and even the Blessed Virgin Mary. The fragility of pewter badges offers a simple explanation to this phenomenon. The heads were broken off somehow at some point. Given the material of the badges, this is unsurprising. And yet despite this material reality, headless badges of someone like Saint Dymphna – whose beheading is central to her martyrdom and the pilgrims participating in her martyrdom story – take on special significance.

Because of this, I want to imagine beyond a mere natural reality that offers an obvious explanation for the absent Dymphna head. Instead, I assume that the headlessness of surviving Dymphna pilgrim badges is not a material coincidence, but a material revelation. This kind of imagining, I think, brings me closer to the medieval pilgrims who carried these badges, for whom the revelatory aspects of the material world were vital.

It seems to me that there are two central alternative ways of understanding the headless Dymphna badges, both of which have within them a myriad of sub-possibilities. The first way is to assume that the Dymphna heads were intentionally broken off by pilgrims. This possibility is an argument against looking at surviving badges as objects of time alone and instead as social objects that are acted upon by pilgrims with symbolic intent. If this were the case – and I like to assume that it is – the impossible question to answer is why. It might have been an act of remembrance or reverence for the saint when a pilgrim was cured of mental illness. It may have been an act of defiance by a pilgrim – devout or disobedient – displeased to see the saint again donning a head. Perhaps after the journeys back home, to the Netherlands, for instance, where the majority of headless badges in the Kunera collection were found, the heads were broken off to symbolise an end to the object’s purpose and the badges then discarded or forgotten.

The second possibility is that pilgrims did not break the heads off, but that the badges, as spiritual objects, disclosed their own realities. I am not advocating that the badges broke themselves, though the idea compels me; rather, that the manner of intervention that caused the head to break off was secondary to the outcome. Perhaps the badges broke while being pinned on a hat or stuck in a pilgrim’s pocket; they may have fallen on the ground and been stepped on or hit against something unintentionally. I don’t suppose that Dymphna badges that became headless during a pilgrimage would have been seen as worthless but enchanted, especially for the pilgrim who encountered this change. Instead of a material coincidence, medieval pilgrims might frame this change in the badge as a revelatory occasion: one imbued with the presence of Dymphna. How much more valued would a pilgrim badge of Saint Dymphna be if it mirrored the martyrdom of the saint it represented? This second possibility sees a headless badge, as I do, as an occasion of and for further meaning making. It assumes the badge to be a special kind of spiritual participant in the pilgrimage.

Though thinking about these different possibilities excites me, the passage of time prevents me from knowing the truth of them. Despite this, I intend to continue learning about Dymphna and will be going on a research pilgrimage to the city of Geel at the end of May. I look forward to sharing more about what I find on this blog in the coming weeks. There is still much to learn from Dymphna and the pilgrim badges that represent her.    

H. Dimpna van Geel, polychrome wood sculpture, 1501-1600, 122 cm. Kerk Sint-Amandus, Geel, Belgium. Photographer: Jean-Luc Elias, KIK. © KIK-IRPA, Brussels, cliché X029117*.

[1] Katharina Van Cauteren, “Goosen Van der Weyden’s Dymphna altarpiece: A material witness to something intangible,” in Crazy about Dymphna, pp. 16-20; here p. 18.

[2] Niels Schalley, “The Cult of Saint Dymphna in Image and Prayer,” in Crazy About Dymphna, pp. 282-94; here p. 284.

Further Reading

Chen, Angus. “For Centuries, A Small Town Has Embraced Strangers With Mental Illness.” NPR, July 1, 2016. https://www.npr.org/sections/health-shots/2016/07/01/484083305/for-centuries-a-small-town-has-embraced-strangers-with-mental-illness.

Flemish Masters in Situ -  Sint-Dimpnakerk Geel, 2019. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3_3nKU4EwI8.

Jay, Mike. “Geel: Where the Mentally Ill Are Welcomed Home | Aeon Essays.” Aeon, January 9, 2014. Accessed March 14, 2023. https://aeon.co/essays/geel-where-the-mentally-ill-are-welcomed-home.

McCrary, Lorraine Krall. “Geel’s Family Care Tradition: Care, Communities, and the Social Inclusion of Persons with Disabilities.” Journal of Literary & Cultural Disability Studies 11, no. 3 (October 1, 2017): 285–303. https://doi.org/10.3828/jlcds.2017.23.

Van Dorst, Sven, ed. Crazy about Dymphna: The Story of a Girl who Drove a Medieval City Mad. Hannibal Publishing, Veurne, 2020.

Written by Hannah Gardiner.