04/01/2026
In 1310, a woman was led to a stake in the heart of Paris.
Thousands watched.
Her “crime”?
She wrote a book.
Her name was Marguerite Porete — born around 1250 in what is now Belgium. She was educated, independent, and connected to the Beguines: women who pursued a spiritual life without taking formal vows and without placing themselves under permanent male religious control.
And that freedom made people nervous.
The Beguines lived differently.
They prayed in their own communities, served the poor, and sought God on their own terms.
For Church authorities, women living outside strict oversight — women speaking about God without permission — weren’t just unconventional.
They were dangerous.
Marguerite took that freedom further than most.
In the 1290s, she wrote a mystical work called The Mirror of Simple Souls — a dialogue between Love, Reason, and the Soul, describing seven stages of inner transformation.
At its core was a radical claim:
A soul can become so united with divine love
that it no longer needs rituals, rules, or intermediaries.
Or in her words:
“Love is God, and God is Love.”
And then she did something that made her ideas impossible to contain:
She didn’t write in Latin — the language of clergy and scholars.
She wrote in Old French — the language ordinary people spoke.
Meaning: her ideas could spread beyond monasteries.
Beyond bishops.
Beyond control.
And they did.
Between 1296 and 1306, the Bishop of Cambrai condemned her book as heretical and ordered it burned publicly. Marguerite was forced to watch her work turn to ash. She was commanded never to share it again.
She refused.
Marguerite believed her book was inspired by the Holy Spirit. She had even consulted respected theologians. But she would not accept that one institution could own the soul’s relationship to God.
So she kept circulating the book.
Kept teaching.
Kept insisting that divine love was not managed by earthly gatekeepers.
In 1308, she was arrested and handed to the Inquisitor of France, William of Paris — a man connected to the royal court at a time when heresy was being hunted with fire.
Marguerite spent 18 months in prison.
And through it all, she said nothing.
No oath.
No answers.
No cooperation.
Only silence — a refusal to legitimize the trial itself.
A panel of 21 theologians examined her book and extracted propositions they called heretical. One of the most feared ideas: that a soul fully united with God could no longer “sin” in the ordinary sense — because it had surrendered entirely into divine love.
To the Church, this sounded like moral chaos.
To Marguerite, it was the freedom of perfect surrender.
She was given chances to recant. Many people survived by doing so. A man arrested alongside her eventually confessed under pressure and was sentenced to life imprisonment.
Marguerite did not break.
On May 31, 1310, she was declared a “relapsed heretic.”
On June 1, she was taken to the Place de Grève, the public square of executions.
The Inquisitor denounced her as a “pseudo-mulier” — a “fake woman,” as if defying the Church meant her womanhood itself was illegitimate.
And then they burned her alive.
But something unexpected happened in that crowd.
Even chroniclers who didn’t sympathize with her ideas recorded how calm she was — so calm that people were shaken. Some accounts say the crowd was moved to tears, because they didn’t see a screaming heretic.
They saw a woman who seemed, somehow, already beyond the flames.
The Church ordered every copy of The Mirror of Simple Souls destroyed.
They wanted her erased — her words, her name, her memory.
They failed.
The book survived. It circulated in secret. It was translated into other languages. For centuries it was read anonymously — powerful enough to endure even without an author attached.
And then, in 1946, scholar Romana Guarnieri connected the text to Marguerite Porete while studying manuscripts in the Vatican Library.
Six hundred years later, she got her name back.
Today, Marguerite Porete is recognized as one of the major mystics of the medieval world. Some scholars compare her ideas to Meister Eckhart, and some believe her work may have influenced him.
And maybe that’s the real point of this story:
You can burn a woman.
You can burn paper.
But you can’t reliably burn an idea that reaches people’s inner lives.
Because what Marguerite claimed — in the simplest terms — is still threatening to any system built on control:
Love is greater than fear.
And no institution ultimately owns the soul’s relationship to its source.
She spent her final months in silence, refusing to deny what she believed was true.
But her book has been speaking for seven centuries.
And it’s still speaking now.
