Images of Piety: The iconography of traditional religion in late medieval Wales 9781841712086, 9781407319520

Table of contents :
Cover
Title Page
Copyright
Dedication
CONTENTS
Preface
List of Illustrations
Introduction
Chapter One: Images of Maidenhood: the Virgin Mary
Chapter Two: Images of Motherhood: St Anne and the Married Saints
Chapter Three: Images of Sanctity: Wales and the International Tradition
Chapter Four: Images of Sanctity: A Land of Saints?
Chapter Five: Images of Pity: The Iconography of the Crucified Christ
Chapter Six: Images of Vice and Virtue
Chapter Seven: Images of Liturgy and Literacy
Chapter Eight: The Destruction of the Images
Conclusion: The image of a nation?
References
Illustration

Citation preview

BAR 316 2000  GRAY  IMAGES OF PIETY

Images of Piety The iconography of traditional religion in late medieval Wales

Madeleine Gray

BAR British Series 316 9 781841 712086

B A R

2000

Images of Piety The iconography of traditional religion in late medieval Wales

Madeleine Gray

BAR British Series 316 2000

Published in 2016 by BAR Publishing, Oxford BAR British Series 316 Images of Piety © M Gray and the Publisher 2000 The author's moral rights under the 1988 UK Copyright, Designs and Patents Act are hereby expressly asserted. All rights reserved. No part of this work may be copied, reproduced, stored, sold, distributed, scanned, saved in any form of digital format or transmitted in any form digitally, without the written permission of the Publisher.

ISBN 9781841712086 paperback ISBN 9781407319520 e-format DOI https://doi.org/10.30861/9781841712086 A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library BAR Publishing is the trading name of British Archaeological Reports (Oxford) Ltd. British Archaeological Reports was first incorporated in 1974 to publish the BAR Series, International and British. In 1992 Hadrian Books Ltd became part of the BAR group. This volume was originally published by Archaeopress in conjunction with British Archaeological Reports (Oxford) Ltd / Hadrian Books Ltd, the Series principal publisher, in 2000. This present volume is published by BAR Publishing, 2016.

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The Crucifixion, from the East window at Cilcain (Flint)

For my mother and in memory of my father Wyd ystyr o waed Iestyn Arwain y gad a 'r Oen Gwyn

CONTENTS

Preface

V

List of illustrations

vii

Introduction

1-5

Chapter One. Images of Maidenhood: the Virgin Mary

6-17

Chapter Two. Images of motherhood: St Anne and the married saints

18-24

Chapter Three. Images of sanctity: Wales and the international tradition

25-33

Chapter Four. Images of sanctity: a land of saints?

34-40

Chapter Five. Images of Pity: the iconology of the crucified Christ

41-53

Chapter Six. Images of Vice and Virtue

54-59

Chapter Seven. Images of Liturgy and Literacy

60-72

Chapter Eight. The Destruction of the Images

73-86

Conclusion: the image of a nation?

87-89

Bibliography

90-100

Illustrations

101-168

Index

169-168

111

Preface This study of the religious imagery of late medieval Wales has its roots in my interest in the history and beliefs of my own country. During the research, however, it has become apparent that Wales - united with England since 1536, part of the United Kingdom since its inception and only now beginning to edge away from full union - is still a foreign country to many of my fellow historians. 'There's not a lot of architecture', the guide books say. 'The hills are steep. It often rains' ... and the place names have no vowels and begin with double consonants. We are however proud of our history and literature, and we do write a lot of books about it. Some of them are even in English. For a general background to the history of the later medieval period, the best introduction is Glanmor Williams's volume Recovery, Re-orientation and Reformation: Wales c 1415-1642 in the Oxford History of Wales series (Williams, G., 1987, republished in paperback as Renewal and Reformation: Wales c. 1415-1642, 1993). For a more detailed survey of the church and religious belief, the same author's The Welsh Church from Conquest to Reformation (Williams, G., 1976) is still standard. There are a number of guides to medieval Welsh literature, though too many of them still view the religious literature of the later medieval period from an essentially post-Reformation and Nonconformist perspective. Andrew Breeze, Medieval Welsh Literature (Breeze, 1997) has been criticised for its sometimes eccentric interpretations and its fondness for the obscure byways of the subject, but they are byways which are vital to our understanding of traditional religious belief. I have tried to refer to books which are available in English wherever possible, but some essential texts such as Jane Cartwright's book on concepts of female sanctity in Wales, Y Forwyn Fair, Santesau a Lleianod (Cartwright 1999) - have not yet been translated. Much of the poetry is also not yet available in translation. I have provided translations of all the Welsh passages but I have also quoted extensively in the original, as many of the editions of minor Welsh poets are not generally available in English libraries. Since 1974, Wales has suffered two comprehensive reorganisations of local government and administrative boundaries. These have caused chaos for historians. New counties have been created, bearing the names but not the boundaries of the ancient kingdoms of Wales; old county names have been resurrected and attached to new administrative units. Standard procedure for Welsh historians is increasingly to use the pre-197 4 county boundaries for the purposes of place-name identification, and this is the procedure followed here. Place names have been standardised according to Richards (1969): accurate Welsh spellings have been given for Welsh place names but where the English form of a name is the norm in English speech that is the form which has been used. I have inspected most of the churches discussed in detail, and wish here to record my gratitude to the clergy, churchwardens and others who opened buildings for me, gave permission for photography and went out of their way to discuss the history and iconography of their contents. Much of the field work for this study was undertaken in the summer of 1999. I am grateful to the friends who provided me with accommodation and company, particularly to Christine and Stephen Buckley and William and Julie Jones. I am also grateful to all those who helped advance my understanding of the imagery: as well as those directly acknowledged in the references, I have received valuable help from Dr Charles Kightly, whose work on Denbighshire churches was the starting-point for this study; from John Morgan-Guy, a constant source of inspiration and stringent criticism; from Miriam Gill and Tony Parkinson, who unselfishly shared their own findings on the wall paintings; and from Steve and Rachel Gray, Becci Glastonbury, Betty Bennett and Liz Pitman who helped with field research. My colleagues at University College of Wales, Newport, provide an encouraging environment for research in spite of all the pressures of modern higher education and have endured interminable lunch-time discussions of gruesome martyrdom techniques, the precise details of the Instruments of the Passion and the miracles of obscure saints. I have discussed some of the material with successive generations of students. They have all have added to my understanding, and some have made perceptive and illuminating comments which are acknowledged in the text. The Inter-Library Loan service at our library has produced

V

a steady stream of books an d periodical articles. An n Leaver and the techn ical staff at UWCN have been patience itself in helping with the illustrations. That most genial and learned of on-line discussion groups, the medieval-religion mailbase list, has provided references, advice and a forum for discussion which often anticipated my needs and broadened the scope of the work considerably. It is impossible to list the number of members of this group who have provided information and suggestions, often generously sharing the results of their own research before publication. It is immensely heartening to find that, in spite of all the attempts of those who are set in authority over us to reduce us to cut-throat competitiveness, so many academics still believe in the concept of an intellectual community. The editorial team have been unfailingly encouraging and supportive, and I have derived great benefit from the comments and suggestions of their readers. My greatest debt is to the craftsmen and their patrons who have provided us with a legacy of visual imagery in our churches and to the parishioners who protected and preserved it, often in defiance of government orders and at some risk to themselves.

VI

List of Illustrations

Unless otherwise stated, the photographs are the author's copyright. Line drawings are the work of Anne Leaver. Frontispiece: the Crucifixion, from the East window at Cilcain (Flint) l(a) 1(b) 2(a) 2(b) 3(a) 3(b) 4 5(a) 5(b) 6 7 8 9(a) 9(b) lO(a) 1O(b) 11 12(a) 12(b) 13(a) 13(b) 14(a) l 4(b) 15 16(a) l 6(b) 17 18(a) l 8(b) 19(a) 19(b) 20(a) 20(b) 2l(a) 21 (b) 22(a) 22(b) 23(a) 23(b)

Abergavenny (Mon): the Annunciation, from the tomb of Sir William ap Thomas and Gwladus his wife. The figure of God in the top left of the central panel is blowing the Word towards Mary. Abergavenny: Assumption and Coronation of the Virgin Mary, from the tomb of Sir Richard Herbert ofEwyas Abergavenny: the Twelve Apostles with their scrolls, from the tomb of Sir William ap Thomas and Gwladus Abergavenny: the wooden figure of Jesse Abergavenny: St Margaret, from the tomb of Sir Richard Herbert of Coldbrook Bangor (Caems): the Mostyn Christ Betws Gwerful Goch (Meir): the Bound Christ with the Virgin Mary and St John and the Instruments of the Passion Caerwys (Flint): dragons and vine trail, formerly part of canopy of honour Ceri (Mont): Instruments of the Passion on font Cilcain (Flint): Crucifixion with St Michael and St Peter Cilcain: the weeping Virgin Mary at the Crucifixion Coety (Glam): Easter Sepulchre (general) Coety: the Five Wounds The Instruments of the Passion - ladder, spear, cross and crown of thorns, dice shakers Coety: the Instruments of the Passion - the cockerel on the column, the pillar, whips and scourges, lanterns, Judas's money-bag The Instruments of the Passion - nails, hammer and pliers, spear and sponge and another whip Colwinston (Glam): St Nicholas and the miracle of the boy in the bath-tub Gresford (Denb): Lady chapel. St Anne in her garden Gresford: birth of the Virgin Mary Gresford: Presentation of the Virgin Mary Gresford: funeral of the Virgin Mary Gresford: Assumption of the Virgin Mary Gres ford: Coronation of the Virgin Mary Gresford: chancel, East window (general) Gresford: Virgin Mary with lilies and palm Gresford: St John the Evangelist Gresford: Christ with the Virgin Mary on his knee Gresford: God the Father Gresford: Holy Spirit Gresford: Archangel Gabriel at Annunciation Gresford: Virgin Mary with dove (Annunciation) Gresford: Te Deum. Female martyrs - Barbara, Catherine, Margaret, Dorothy Specialised angels - Power, Throne and Principality Female angels with diadems Popes and a bishop Gresford: Trevor Chapel. St Antony enters the religious life Gresford: Funeral of St Antony Gresford: Martyrdom of John the Baptist Gresford: Salome with the head of John the Baptist

Vll

24 25 25(b) 26(a) 26(b) 26(c) 26( d) 27 28 29 30 31 (a) 31 (b) 32(a) 32(b) 33(a) 33(b) 34(a) 34(b) 35(a) 35(b) 36(a) 36(b) 37 38(a) 3 8(b) 39(a) 39(b) 40(a) 40(b) 4l(a) 41 (b) 42 43 44(a) 44(b) 45 46 47 48(a) 48(b) 49(a) 49(b) 50(a) 50(b) 51 52(a) 52(b) 53 54 55(a) 55(b)

Gresford:St Apollonia and St Christopher Gresford: St Michael and ?St Zita Gresford: fragmentary Flagellation Gresford: font. St Alban St James St Leonard of Limoges St Zita Gresford: piercing ofparclose screen Hope: head of episcopal saint (?Thomas Becket), fragment of Te Deum, birds in a basket (possibly from the Purification of the Virgin Mary) Kemeys Inferior (Mon): Crucifixion from rood screen ( photo: National Museums and Galleries of Wales) Llanarth (Mon): Virgin and Child Llandderfel (Meir): Derfel's 'horse' and staff Llandderfel: pierced wainscot originally to east of rood loft Llandeilo Tal-y-bont: two grotesque heads spitting at Christ crowned with thorns (photo: National Museums and Galleries of Wales) Llandeilo Tal-y-bont (Glam): Bound Christ (photo: National Museums and Galleries of Wales) Llandyrnog (Denb): the Annunciation Llandyrnog: Coronation of the Virgin Mary Llandyrnog: St Asaph Llandyrnog: St David Llandyrnog: St Marcella Llandyrnog: St Winifred Llandyrnog: St Frideswide Llandyrnog: St Catherine Llandyrnog: Crucifixion from Seven Sacrament window Llandyrnog: Matrimony Llandyrnog: Ordination Llandyrnog: Extreme Unction Llandyrnog: St James the Great and St John the Evangelist Llaneilian-yn-Rhos (Denb): the Last Judgement with the Virgin Mary and St Michael Llanengan (Caerns): rood screens Llanengan: the Five Wounds on the rood screen Llanfrynach (Glam): squint from rood loft Llangadwaladr (Ang): East window (general) Llangadwaladr: Crucifixion Llangadwaladr: Virgin Mary Llangadwaladr: St Cadwaladr Llangadwaladr: donor figures Llan-gan (Glam), churchyard cross: Crucifixion Llan-gan: Pieta Llan-gan: possible episcopal saint Llan-gan: possible female saint Llangollen (Denb): canopy of honour Llangollen: angel with cross and crown of thorns Llangystennin (Caerns): Image of Pity Llanidloes (Mont): angels with Instruments of the Passion Llanrhaiadr-yng-Nghinmeirch (Denb ): Jesse window (general) Llanrhaiadr: Jesse Llamhaiadr: Isaiah and Zechariah Llamhaiadr: King David Llanrhaiadr: Virgin and Child surmounted by pelican Llamhychwyn: Trinity Llamwst (Denb): rood screen (general)

vm

56(a) 56(b) 57(a) 57(b) 58(a) 58(b) 59(a) 59(b) 60(a) 60(b) 6l(a) 61(b) 62(a) 62(b) 63 64 65(a) 65(b) 66 67(a) 67(b)

Llanrwst: Instruments of the Passion and Agnus Dei on the rood screen Llamwst: piercing of rood screen Llantwit Major (Glam): Jesse niche and squint Llantwit Major: detail of Jesse niche Llantwit Major: St Christopher Llantwit Major: Mary Magdalene Mochdre (Mont): Crucifixion (photo: National Museums and Galleries of Wales) Mochdre: possible Virgin Mary (photo: National Museums and Galleries of Wales) Mold (Flint): Annunciation Old Radnor (Rads): St Catherine Penallt (Mon): squint Pennant Melangell (Mont): rood screen with legend of St Melangell (photo: National Library of Wales) Rhiwabon (Denb): the Seven Corporal Works of Mercy (from Lloyd-Williams and Underwood, The architectural antiquities and village churches of Denbighshire, plate 40) St Asaph: diocesan seal with St Winifred as abbess (photo: National Museums and Galleries of Wales) St Mary Hill (Glam): Crucifixion St Mary Hill: possible Last Judgement St Mary Hill: episcopal saint St Mary Hill: female saint Usk (Mon): priory seal (photo: National Museums and Galleries of Wales) Wrexham (Denb): Doom (general) Wrexham: Doom (detail)

IX

Introduction At first sight, the visual evidence for traditional religion in medieval Wales is not a promising field for study. Compared with the wealth of painted rood screens in East Anglia and the West Country of England, the stained glass of Canterbury and York and the cycles of wall paintings in churches from Chalgrove to Pickering, the Welsh evidence can seem thin and second-rate. A few battered and faded wall paintings, some stained glass in the north, much of it fragmented and of poor quality, and a few carvings are all we have left. The glory of the medieval Welsh church was frequently its rood screen: and Welsh rood screens are masterpieces of the carver's, not the painter's art, their intricate semi-abstract tracery leaving little room for further figurative decoration. Little wonder, therefore, that historians of popular piety in medieval Wales have chosen to concentrate on the abundant literary evidence, traditional bardic poetry and the free verse of the cwndidau as well as the prose Lives of the saints and more conventional works of spiritual advice. To write off the visual evidence of belief, however, is to ignore the way in which both the basics of the faith and much more complex theological arguments were communicated to the majority of the people in an age before literacy was common. Studies of the relationship between text and visual image in the medieval period distinguish a range of literacies and levels of ability - the ability to read but not to write, the ability to recognise familiar text with or without the help of visual imagery, literacy in different languages. We are however looking at a period in which literacy for most people meant visual literacy, the reading of pictorial representations, and what Diebold terms cultural literacy, the ability to recognise references and to appreciate and interpret the implications of the choice and juxtaposition of images (Diebold 1992). We need the written text to explain the image; they would have used the image to understand and interpret and even to substitute for the written text. As Christ was the Logos, the Word of God, the visual image of Christ, and especially of the Crucifixion, could be considered as an epitome of the Bible and all learning. Meditation on the Passion - and by extension meditation on a visual depiction of the Passion - could give spiritual literacy to the unlearned and provide an adequate substitute for the written word. The concretization of both sacred stories and complex theological concepts in glass, plaster, wood and stone reflected the corporeality which characterizes later medieval spirituality with its emphasis on identification with Christ's physical sufferings. This interpretation was not confined to hard-line opponents of popular access to the Bible. Even for Wycliffe, study of the Bible should proceed from understanding the concrete sense of the text to contemplation of the Book of Life and Christ as the person of the divine Word (Spencer 1993, 139-43). It was also an interpretation which outlasted the Reformation. Henry VIII's last wife Catherine Parr, usually considered a devout

reformer, described the crucifix (not the crucifixion but its visual representation) as the book, wherein God hath included all things, and hath most compendiously written therein ... let us endeavour ourselves to study this book (The Lamentations of a Sinner, quoted in Macculloch 1999, 187)

This study proposes therefore to take a leap of faith: to proceed on the assumption that, for all its fragmentation and occasional crudity of expression, the visual imagery in Welsh churches is meant not just to communicate core beliefs to the ignorant but to reflect complex theological ideas and arguments and to inspire the devout contemplation of abstruse concepts. We will also assume that the partial destruction and survival of this visual imagery is not mere chance: that the authorities targetted for destruction what they felt to be most powerful and most dangerous, but that people protected, rescued and preserved what they valued most highly. It is not suggested that the simple visual representation of the saints or of the crucified Christ was able to communicate all this theological subtlety to an otherwise uninstructed population. There is a crucial distinction to be made between reading (visually or literally) to recall what one knows already and reading to acquire new information (Duggan 1989: though for an alternative viewpoint see Chazelle 1990). Avril Henry makes this point in her discussion of the Biblia Pauperum (Henry 1987, 17) Our modem response to medieval typology is sufficient evidence that pictures in this mode only 'instruct' if you know what they mean. They then act as reminders of the known truth. It is not a bit of good staring at a picture of a man carrying two large doors on the outskirts of a city and expecting it to suggest the risen Christ. You are likely to take him for a builder's merchant or a removal man unless you already know that this is always Samson with the gates of Gaza and that like Christ he has, as it were, broken gaol.

Visual imagery was of course important as a mnemonic device for those who could not read, who could read only with difficulty, or who simply could not afford access to books. However, while the single, simple image might be unable to communicate to those who were not already familiar with its subject, complex and/or juxtaposed images can inspire and communicate a greater depth of understanding to those who can identify their subject matter and 'read' their symbols. Visual imagery inevitably adds an interpretative gloss to the text: it literally fleshes it out. If we consider that most ubiquitous of medieval images the Annunciation: the narrative in the gospel of St Luke tells us that an angel was sent to a virgin called Mary. Most of the account consists of a report of their conversation. But the visual image cannot present us with a generic angel, a generic young woman: they must be given a physical appearance which excludes the possibility of other appearances. Then there is the temptation to add

Images of Piety

circumstantial detail, all of which will become significant. Mary's clothes and the details of her house will tell us about her status. The activity in which she is engaged when the angel appears to her will define her personality. All this interpretation is predicated on our knowledge of the basics of the traditional story, but it adds greatly to our perception of its significance. Even unfamiliar narrative can be conveyed effectively by those who understand the discourse of its visual representation. Carrier ( 1997) discusses the ways in which some modem cartoons convey narrative as well as humour without words, though he also emphasises their limitations. Let us reconsider the example of the martyrdom of St Lawrence discussed by Gombrich (1982, 156) and quoted by Duggan ( 1989)

precisely what Diebold means by 'cultural literacy', the ability to read through context and code. The implication of much of the poetic evidence is that the ordinary parishioner in Wales was adequately instructed in the basics of the faith and able to understand visual as well as poetic imagery (Prichard 1984, 58-9). Although bardic verses were often composed for performance rather than being written for a select readership, the way in which matters of faith and events in the lives of the saints are alluded to rather than being outlined and explained in detail suggests that these poems were not the principal vehicle for instruction. Rather, they are written to entertain and to expand on knowledge acquired by other means. Nor was the visual image the primary means of instruction. Rather, visual depiction was part of a range of strategies for embedding and deepening awareness of a faith communicated orally. Visual depiction was however a particularly powerful and appropriate medium for communicating and enriching the understanding of complex ideas. Visual imagery can present layer upon layer of meaning, making available simultaneously a range of levels of understanding (Camille 1985 (1), 134-5; Lewis 1991, 1-32). This simultaneous communication was particularly appropriate for the parallel systems of meaning used in medieval textual exegesis. The standard medieval method of interpreting a Biblical text was based on four levels. The simplest was the literal, in which the text was taken at face value as narrative or description. The allegorical sense interpreted the text to produce statements of doctrine. The tropological or moral sense used the text to derive principles of guidance for ethical conduct. Finally, the anagogical sense interpreted selected texts as prophecy, particularly of the Apocalypse and the coming of the Kingdom of Heaven. These levels of interpretation could produce divergent and even contradictory readings: indeed, the allegorical sense was most frequently used as a way of dealing with texts whose literal meaning was theologically or otherwise unacceptable. (The most familiar example of this is probably the interpretation of the powerfully erotic Song of Solomon as an allegory of the relationship between Christ and the church.) This four-fold hermeneutic could be mechanistic and 'scholastic' in the pejorative sense of the word, concerned with the multiplication of examples rather than the search for meaning. However, in its application to popular preaching after the twelfth-century revival, it was a powerful and effective interpretative device, rooting complex theological concepts in well-known Biblical stories (Smalley 1952, 244; Owst 1961, 56-109). In use, the three non-literal senses were frequently merged to allow a more flexible allegorical approach to the text (Spencer 1993, 193). Gombrich insists (1972, 15) that there is no evidence that this multi-level hermeneutic was ever intended to be applied to medieval art. It would perhaps be more surprising if it was felt to need explicit comment. So much of the imagery with which we are dealing is Biblical or parabiblical, and it is surely appropriate to approach it as we would a Biblical text. We do of course need to be careful about the precise meaning of symbols: we should not, for example, assume

Without the aid of the spoken word the illiterate, of course, would not know that the sufferer is not a malefactor but a saint who is marked by the symbol of the halo, or that the gestures made by the onlookers indicate compassion

This is the equivalent of saying that we cannot read text unless we know what the letter-forms indicate. Given the substantial hint from the halo, the illiterate could deduce without much difficulty that this was a martyrdom. The gridiron would indicate the familiar story of St Lawrence and the viewer would be inspired to the appropriate response. This process of deduction from first principles is not of course the way a medieval viewer would be expected to read the image. As Avril Henry says (Henry 1987, 18) Illiteracy and ignorance were not synonymous in a world in which it was common to acquire knowledge aurally: through sennons alone a medieval observer would have been familiar with much typological thought that is strange to us ... the educated medieval mind was more likely than the modern mind to be trained in image interpretation, in recognition and understanding of half-quoted biblical texts, and above all in the process of meditation which is the prelude to prayer.

The medieval viewer would normally be expected to recognise the depiction of the martyrdom of St Lawrence without any difficulty. What the work under discussion adds to this straightforward reminder is the peripheral details, which suggest further material for more complex reflection. The martyr's expression - agony, stoicism, serene triumph - serves as a commentary on the significance of the story. The aggression of the executioners can suggest parallels with the Crucifixion, and the compassion of the onlookers should guide the response of those who see the picture. The enormously complex and detailed narratives of the great cycles of stained glass at Canterbury, Bourges and Chartres could recall half-remembered episodes in the stories they told and could even add episodes which the visually literate could 'read': but by the detail of representation and juxtaposition they also provided an interpretative gloss on the narrative account (see e.g. Kemp 1997, passim). As Gombrich says, we cannot understand the visual image without 'context and code' (1982, 161) - but this is

2

Introduction

that a pretty young woman with a sword and a book is necessarily going to be St Catherine with the evidence of her learning and the instrument of her martyrdom. (The Victorian restorers who reconstructed the east window at Llanasa (Flint) made precisely this mistake. The figure which they captioned as St Catherine is in fact the local St Winifred, who was nearly killed in defence of her chastity but survived to lead a life of exemplary piety, founding a religious community and summoning and leading a synod of the British church.) The iconography of the depiction of Winifred at Llanasa is not in fact ambiguous. Where the Victorians went wrong was that they failed to look at all the saint's attributes. As well as the sword, the Llanasa figure has a scar around her neck - the scar which, according to all the surviving versions of her vita, Winifred bore to the end of her days. Nor should we expect symbolic images to bear al their meanings at all times. The dragon was by the fifteenth century a (if not the) national emblem of Wales. Its mythology went back to the Mabinogion and the Arthurian legends, and it was the heraldic device of Owain Glyndwr. However, for the Welsh as for other medieval Europeans, the dragon could also symbolise the devil, and evil in all its forms. Thus, depictions of both St George and St Michael killing dragons are common in Welsh churches. The pig was the traditional symbol of gluttony, though it could also stand (as in the depiction of the Seven Deadly Sins) for lechery and even anger. However, the pig also appears as the emblem or attribute of St Anthony and occasionally of St Frideswide. Nevertheless, some of the most central images of medieval belief are profoundly and inescapably ambivalent, capable of contradictory but equally valid meanings. The Virgin Mary is an image both of power and of humility. A queenly figure, crowned and enthroned, she is nevertheless depicted breast-feeding the infant Jesus like any humble peasant girl. At the Last Judgement, she smiles serenely as she weighs down the scales of judgement on behalf of her devotees, but defers to the power of her son who alone can offer salvation. As Penny Schine Gold remarked considering images of medieval women in general (Gold 1985: I am grateful to Kathryn Wildgen for this reference)

because he suffered, humankind can escape the consequences of that sinfulness. The ambiguity here is ultimately in the eye - and the mind - of the beholder. In the light of this ambiguity, we may ask how confident we can ever be that we are reading these images correctly that we have fully grasped the context and can crack the code. How far can we be sure that we know either what the authors and patrons wanted in their paintings and what they meant by it, or how the imagery was then understood by a range of audiences? Gombrich follows Hirsch ( 1967) in insisting on the absolute primacy of explicit authorial intent - 'the old commonsense view that a work means what its author intended it to mean, and that it is this intention which the interpreter must try his best to establish'. It is of course important to distinguish between the intention of the artist and the use which was then made of the art by preachers and others. But postmodern critical theory has taught us that we need to get behind the explicit intention of painter and writer and consider the subtext, the implicit assumptions which underlie any choice of symbol or style. We have even learned to doubt the validity of the concept of 'meaning' - certainly as applied to authorial intent. Jim Bugslag has suggested (pers. comm.) that the increased popularity of private devotional art from the thirteenth century may mean that there was no circumscribed intended meaning or set of meanings in these paintings, but that they were designed to function as an open-ended guide for devotional contemplation. He has also drawn attention to the links between modern reception theory and the study of medieval literature (by, for example, Hans Robert Jauss: Holub 1984, 76), and suggests that it is valid to apply the same approach to medieval art. Gombrich uses the example of Leonardo da Vinci's painting of St Anne with the Virgin Mary on her lap and the infant Jesus reaching out to touch a lamb. This was interpreted in various ways by contemporaries as an allegory of Christ's relation to the church or a portent of his sacrifice. Arguably, only one of these interpretations could be in accordance with the painter's explicit meaning. However, the traditional schema of the Holy Kindred, with Mary seated on Anne's lap and Christ on Mary's lap, has a whole complex of implicit significations - the role of both Mary and Anne in the Incarnation, the importance of Christ's matrilineal ancestry, the profoundly ambiguous doctrine of the Immaculate Conception. 'Rarely does the object of art illustrate one single theological thesis' (Glass 1982, 72: I am grateful to Kathryn Wildgen for this reference). In the absence of conclusive proof, it is only possible to suggest a range of possibilities for the ways in which these images may have been read (and may have been intended to be read) by medieval viewers. By analogy with medieval hermeneutics, however, we should be able to check our readings against the implicit or explicit meanings of as many other texts and images as possible. This is the approach recommended by Panofsky as long ago as 1939 (Panofsky 1939, 15-17): it still has embedded in it the idea that there are 'right' answers and 'right'

Images (and action) are too complex to be summarized as either positive or negative. Rather, an image can be a funnel for more than one attitude, and can even embrace conflicting attitudes. Sometimes the presentation of the image can constrain our interpretation. I discuss below (pages 9-11) the difference in style between the depictions of the Coronation of the Virgin at Gresford and Abergavenny on the one hand and at Llandyrnog and Hope on the other. However, some images seem to have been inherently ambivalent. The wounded body of Christ, crucified or displaying his wounds, could always be read as a reproachful sign of human sin and guilt and a sign of love, forgiveness and hope (below, pp 41-45, 51-53). Because humankind is irretrievably sinful, Christ had to suffer: but

3

Images of Piety

readings, but it allows for the possibility that those readings may be ambiguous or even contradictory at times. If, then, we accept the analogy with the four-fold textual hermeneutic, the continual presentation of visual images was designed in the first place to evoke and reinforce not only knowledge of the facts and events accounting for the sanctification of an individual and the salvation of all humankind but also awareness of their wider implications. But visual depiction was even better suited to communicate the emotional and affective power of those events and to inspire the viewer to respond actively to the images presented. More complex images such as the depictions of the Annunciation, the Seven Sacraments window at Llandyrnog (Denbs: plates 37-39) or the Trinity sequence in the great east window at Gresford (Denbs: plates 15-19), it will be argued, do make subtle and complex theological statements. However, the visual images presented in later medieval churches were not so much narratives for instruction as objects for devout contemplation. It was assumed not only that the viewer could identify the subject-matter of the image but that he or she would be aware of the wider implications of the subject and the style of its depiction and would be prompted to remember and reflect on relevant liturgical and other material. The depiction of one episode in the Crucifixion, for example, could evoke a complex meditation on Christ's humility and suffering and its consequences for the individual viewer and all humanity, linked to prayers and Biblical texts which would be familiar through frequent repetition in the services of the church. Visual imagery could even provide a counterweight to too much theological speculation. The tracery and the upper part of the main lights in the great East window at Gresford offer an extended discussion of Christ's dual nature, the theology of the Trinity and its role in the Incarnation. But below these, the main part of the window is occupied by a Te Deum sequence which simply asserts God's glory in a majestic and comprehensive hymn of praise from the whole church (plates 15-21). It will still be necessary for this study to use supporting literary evidence. We are a verbally literate culture; we need conventional written text to explain the ideas which the medieval Welsh peasants would have 'read' in the visual imagery which surrounded them. We also need to use specifically Welsh literary sources to support our interpretations of the way in which that visual imagery could be read. The theological complexity of some of the visual images we will study may not have been fully understood by all who saw the visual images, but as the literature demonstrates these ideas were part of the currency of a specifically Welsh intellectual life. This study aims however to provide a counterbalance to the traditional studies of medieval Welsh piety with their heavy emphasis on poetic evidence. Unfortunately, Wales does not have the abundant sermon evidence which has been used by Spencer (1993) and others to suggest ways in which orthodox piety was communicated to the ordinary English parishioner. The use of both bardic and popular poetry as a source for religious beliefs was a radical strategy when Ceinwen Thomas embarked on it in the

1930s (Thomas 1940). In the 1950s Glanmor Williams developed the use of these sources to illuminate the spiritual lives of ordinary lay people in Wales (for a summary of his conclusions see e.g. Williams 1976, 41630, 461-522). Glanmor Williams himself made use of visual as well as literary evidence and with characteristic modesty described his magisterial survey of medieval religion in Wales as a 'rather ragged furrow in a field that has long lain fallow' (1976, viii). However, there is a danger that in following in his footsteps we in Wales have placed too much stress on the evidence of the poets. Part of the problem is that the literary evidence is one of the richest sources we have. So much has survived in manuscript (and so much is now available in print, thanks to the work ofrecent generations of scholars); and so much of it has bearing on religious life and spirituality. In spite of the ferocious difficulties of interpretation, therefore, poetry seems to offer us an unrivalled insight into the mentality of the period. However, a more sceptical approach might lead us to question the reliability of poets an idiosyncratic group at the best of times, and in medieval Wales the highly-trained practitioners of an esoteric craft as a guide to the beliefs of ordinary people. As this study will make clear, there are interesting and suggestive divergences between the ideas communicated by the literary evidence and those suggested by the surviving visual culture. We will therefore explore the difference between literary and visual evidence and consider which is the more likely to be attuned to 'popular' spirituality. We will need to use languge carefully. The term 'popular religion' has recently been called into question, implying as it does a divorce between an 'elite' spirituality, sophisticated and refined, and a 'popular' culture of gross credulity and ritualism. This is not borne out by the evidence. As Peter Brown has demonstrated (1981, passim), the cult of the saints originated in elite Roman society. In Wales, some of the most extravagantly apocryphal stories of the Virgin Mary and the martyrs are depicted in churches under the patronage of the devout and aristocratic Margaret Beaufort, cousin and mother of kings. Meanwhile, wall paintings and carvings in remote country churches present complex and sophisticated ideas on Christ's redemptive sacrifice and the eucharist. This is however a study of popular religion in that it concentrates on the visual imagery which was available to the whole community in parish churches, cathedrals and the public areas of monastic churches. Imagery from less public sources - illuminated manuscripts, monastic seals, the decoration of private houses and the private areas of monastic enclosures - will be used where necessary to amplify and interpret visual imagery in churches but is not the main focus of this study. (The more private visual imagery of religion will be covered with the secular visual art of this period in the forthcoming volume by Peter Lord and John Morgan-Guy in the Visual Culture of Wales series, published by the University of Wales Press.) While the present study concentrates on publicly available images, it will nevertheless have to consider who was responsible for the choice and installation of this imagery,

4

Introduction

though in most cases we will be unable to find answers to any questions we may ask. We are looking at a comparatively small geographical area, though it will become apparent that even a country as small as Wales was not uniform in its visual culture or its spirituality. We will however be able to focus more clearly than Europe-wide studies which have to stretch from Italian civic piety to north German mysticism to French Cistercian theology. Most of the visual evidence we will be discussing dates from a comparatively brief period of time, from the fifteenth and early sixteenth centuries. This also gives the study a clear focus and removes some scope for confusion. However, it will also make it difficult to trace developments over time, and we will always have to bear in mind the specific circumstances of Wales during this period. The Glyndwr rising, which broke out in 1400, was followed by over a century of savage repression and social and economic collapse. The period from the midfifteenth century was indeed y ganrif aur, a golden century of literary and spiritual achievement, but it is set in a context of suffering and loss. We can only consider the visual imagery which has survived, or of which we have a record. Much more has vanished without trace - some of it in the medieval period, when walls were repainted and carved wood replaced, but probably far more during the Reformation and the subsequent centuries of ecclesiastical poverty and neglect. We will therefore be attempting to identify patterns of destruction and preservation as much as patterns of patronage and sponsorship. Ironically, the enthusiasm of the Victorians for church restoration and their fondness for the Gothic as they understood it provided the final destructive blow for much that had survived the previous centuries of neglect. In considering the importance of visual imagery as evidence for religious beliefs, we must not ignore the part which the imagery played in the formation and reinforcement of a distinctive spirituality. As the narrative sequences of Gothic stained glass at Canterbury, Chartres and Bourges made visual depiction a medium for narrative the equal of the written word, so the single images of later medieval art, in their architectonic framing, are the equivalent of the more meditative spiritual literature of the devotio moderna. They present saints, biblical figures and God himself as an ever-present reality, allowing the

faithful to enter the immediate presence of the holy. The inclusion of donors and other contemporary figures (such as the abbess at Llanllugan) further reinforces the sense that these are more than simple depictions: that they serve as intermediaries between the earthly and the sacred aspects of the saint's existence and make possible earthly contact with transcendent reality (Carrasco 1991, 65). Hagiography and visual depiction were an integral part of the cult of the saints, which required faith in the deeds and words of the saint as well as in the saint's relics. Text and image thus became holy relics themselves (Ashton 2000, 2). It is perhaps unrealistic to hope that a single overarching interpretation will emerge from such a broad overview of such diverse evidence. The idea of a characteristic 'Celtic' spirituality has come under heavy attack in recent years, though the term 'Celtic' continues to be used for the northern and western regions of Britain in the absence of any other more suitable word. Even the idea of a coherent Welsh identity has been called into question. It is the unevenness and arbitrary nature of the patterns of destruction and preservation as much as the complexity and diversity of what has survived which makes it difficult to suggest a single coherent synthesis of the Welsh visual tradition and Welsh medieval spirituality. However, while we can consider the imagery with which we are presented as specifically Welsh, we must also bear in mind that it is very much part of a broader European tradition, and that it may be better understood as forming part of that tradition rather than as exemplifying a specifically Welsh identity. A decade after the publication of Eamon Duffy's The Stripping of the Altars, it should not be necessary to argue for the strength and vitality of late medieval spirituality and devotional practice. However, the history of late medieval religion in Wales is still largely viewed from a post-Reformation, Protestant nonconformist perspective. This study aims to demonstrate that the visual culture of belief in late medieval Wales shares in the devotional intensity and theological complexity of the European tradition; that the Welsh evidence contributes to the understanding of that tradition; and that it must be read in the context of developments in theology, Christology and spirituality in the the whole of the Western Christian church.

5

ChapterOne Images of maidenhood:the Virgin Mary The overwhelming concentration in the iconography of late medieval sanctity, in Wales as elsewhere, is on the Virgin Mary. Her image was almost as ubiquitous as that of her son, and indeed often accompanied his. Like the images of other saints, however, the representation of the Virgin Mary was not constant, in content or in meaning. The episodes in her life which were chosen for depiction, the mode of representation and its significance were all matters for debate and negotiation. She was an emblem both of power and of humility. As the Queen of Heaven she was entitled to adoration and veneration greater than that offered to any other saint; as the meek virgin mother and bride of Christ, she received the ecstatic devotion of mystics and theologians. What she meant for the ordinary people of Wales - men as well as women - we can only deduce with difficulty from the range of ways in which she was depicted by and for them, by poets and dramatists as well as in the visual arts.

south nave has a depiction of the Trinity, Mary is to be found in the Crucifixion window in the north nave. The Virgin Mary appears in most of the other surviving depictions of the Crucifixion, on numerous churchyard crosses such as the ones at Halkyn and Tremeirchion (Flints) and Derwen (Denbs ), in the Pi eta as well as the Crucifixion at Llan-gan (Glam) and in stained glass at Cilcain (plates 6-7), Llanasa and Nerquis (Flints), Llangadwaladr (Ang: plates 42, 44a) and Llanrhychwyn (Caerns). There may be an iconographical distinction between depictions of the Crucifixion with and without the Virgin and St John, the Crucifixion in isolation being a more focussed devotional image, the Crucifixion with attendant figures prompting meditation on the narrative. Both versions appear on the cross at Trelawnyd (Flints). It is however unusual to find a complete representation of the Crucifixion without Mary. Those examples of isolated Crucifixions which survive are almost all fragmentary, from windows which have been damaged and reasembled. In some cases, the figure of the Virgin Mary is our onpy pointerto a depiction of the Crucifixion which is now missing. At Mold, the female head in the patchwork of medieval stained glass in the south wall of the south nave is almost identical with the head of the Virgin in the Cilcain and Llanasa Crucifixion windows. The text Sancta Maria above the head is not necessarily connected with it but makes the identification more likely. In Beaumaris (Ang), Lewis has identified the upper half of a figure of the Virgin as being from a Crucifixion scene by its similarity to that at Llanrhychwyn (Caerns) (Lewis 1970, 28). The Virgin in the Crucifixion at Cilcain (plate 7) is unusual in the intensity of her grief. Tears flow abundantly down her face, and she turns away from the Cross as if unable to bear the sight of her son's agony. The Llanasa and Mold Virgins also tum away, but without the tears: and the Llanasa and Cilcain Virgins' hands are folded in prayer rather than uplifted in anguish or hanging in grief as in some Continental examples (see for example Schiller 1972, 2, plates 511-20, 526). There was a lengthy medieval debate over the significance as well as the visual representation of Mary's grief, which resulted in a range of interpretative images. Insisting on Mary's moral integrity, St Ambrose had argued that she never doubted the reason for her son's death:

The Virgin at the Foot of the Cross The commonest representation of the Virgin Mary in a medieval church would have been as a carving in wood on the rood screen. We can assume that she stood at one side of the Cross in the vast majority of churches which had screens. In many cases, as at Llanrwst, Llantwit Major (Glam) and Colwinston (Glam), we have evidence for this: either the mortise holes which would have fixed her statue to the rood beam or the corbels or supports which would have supported it on the chancel arch. One surviving carving of the Virgin from a rood screen (plate 59b) is said to have been found hidden on the wall-plate of Mochdre church during rebuilding (Haslam 1979, 163). This diminutive figure is now in the National Museums and Galleries of Wales in Cardiff but doubt has been cast on whether it is really the Virgin Mary and, if so, whether it comes from the rood screen. It is too small, and its expression is far too cheerful even for the stoical Virgins of the Welsh tradition. It is however difficult to suggest an alternative identification (Redknap 2000: I am grateful to Dr Mark Redknap of the National Museum for discussing this figure and sharing his conclusions). There are however only a few examples of rood screens where we can be certain that there was no statue of the Virgin. The mortise holes in the rood beam at Llaneleu (Brees) suggest that it had a figure of Christ but no attendant figures. At Llanbeblig, the rood has not survived but we have poetic evidence for a rood beam with a carving of the Trinity (see below pp 45). It is unlikely (though not impossible) that this would have been accompanied by the Virgin. Mary is associated with the Trinity in the middle register of the great East window at Gresford (see below p 9-11 and plates 16-19) but at Llanrhychwyn (Caerns), where the east window in the

Mary behaved as befitted the mother of Christ, for while the Apostles had fled she stood before the Cross and looked up full of pity to the wounds of her Son, because she expected not the death of her Son but the salvation of the world. (Graef 1985, 82) Bernard of Clairvaux was silent on the subject - in his published works, at least. His pupil Amadeus of Lausanne followed his instincts towards affective piety in describing Mary's anguish beneath the Cross, before reverting to

6

Images of maidenhood: the Virgin Mary

(After his body gave its blood for slaves, blood flowed again in the eye of the woman)

patnstlc authority and affirming that she did not in fact weep (Graef 1985, 246). Later continental Marian writers followed the popular tradition of the apocryphal Vita Beatae Virginis Mariae, which described Mary weeping tears of blood, and dramatised Mary's grief in terms which made it part of the redemptive sacrifice (Graef 1985, 25964). Popular liturgical practice, however, tended to emphasise Mary's steadfast belief in her son's coming resurrection. The celebration of the votive Mass of the Virgin on Saturday and the consecration of Saturday to her provided a commemoration of her continued faith throughout the Saturday between Good Friday and Easter Sunday (Morgan 1993, 52). Elsewhere in Wales, where the representation of the Virgin in Crucifixion scenes is sufficiently well preserved for analysis, most follow this liturgical tradition rather than the imagery of the later medieval laments and the graphic realism of depictions of the crucified Christ. Where he is emaciated, exhausted, contorted in agony, she is sorrowing but stoical, in an attitude of resigned grief (see, for example, the Virgin Mary in the Crucifixion at Llangadwaladr, Ang: plate 44a). At Betws Gwerful Goch (Meir: plate 4 ), the panels have been wrongly assembled so that Mary is on Christ's left hand and appears to be turning away in grief. If the figures were rearranged so that she was on his right, she would be contemplating the Cross with an expression of restrained sorrow. At Betws it is St John the Evangelist who has one hand over his face, unable to bear the suffering before him. The visual imagery we find in Wales thus contrasts with the Continental visual depictions of the Mater Dolorosa, which made Mary's agony the focus for affective devotion: she is shown particularly in later medieval altarpieces sharing her son's suffering, splashed with his blood and fainting with grief (See, for example, Schiller 1972, 2, plates 509, 512, 517, 520). Here, as in many other aspects of conventional piety, the surviving Welsh visual imagery (and it is difficult to do more than to argue from what has survived) is at variance with the evidence of poetry and other literary texts. Glanmor Williams notes (1976, 481-7) the importance of Mary's miracles in the earliest surviving religious prose texts and the extent of veneration for her, her sorrows and her powers, in the traditional bardic poetry of later medieval Wales. Ieuan Deulwyn has a vivid image of Mary weeping tears of blood for her son's wounds:

The Welsh mystery play of the Passion gives a prominent place to Mary's grief at the foot of the cross, and her lament over her dead son's body makes it clear that she is holding him in her arms as in the Pieta (Jones 1939, 80, 180-1, 196-9). For the poets, Mary's grief was part of her power, as her pain reflected and was identified with her son's; as Rhisiart ap Rhys said, begging Mary to intercede for him, There are human marks in thy face For One who has done more than any one (Ward 1914,400 lines 25-6) In the visual imagery, however, the crucified Christ is central and Mary's suffering is played down. While her grief shows the viewer how to grieve for Christ's suffering, her steadfastness encourages hope and expectation of the Resurrection and salvation (Morgan 1993, 52-3). The Pietii and associated images It is interesting to note in this context that there are few surviving Welsh representations of the most extreme representation of Mary's grief, the Pieta, in which she holds her dead son's body in her arms in a savage reversal of the more familiar image of the Virgin and Child. One survives, battered but still moving, on the churchyard cross at Llan-gan (Glam: plate 47). The Pieta originated in southern Germany in about 1300. It probably derives from the narrative iconography of the Lamentation at the Foot of the Cross (Schiller 1972 ii, 174-9) in which Mary is accompanied by Joseph of Arimathea, Mary Magdalene and the other mourners. This separation of the image from its narrative context in order to focus on its emotional impact is entirely characteristic of late medieval devotional art. The Llan-gan Pieta is in the classic European tradition in which Mary holds her son's body horizontally on her lap, with his head on her right arm. Her skirts are spread out almost as if they lay over a table, and Christ's body lies on them as if on an altar. There are several English examples of an entirely different type of Pieta in which the dead Christ is halfseated on Mary's lap with his head towards her right shoulder (see, for example, the bas-de-page in the illustration to Nones of the Hours ofthe Cross in the Taymouth Book of Hours, BL Yates Thompson MS 13 f 123v; an initial in the Keble College MS 47 Hours of the Compassion of the Virgin; and the stained glass depiction of Our Lady of Pity at Long Melford in Suffolk. Morgan 1993, 54-5; Duffy 1992, 260 and pl 12). The Long Melford Lady of Pity is a particularly strange depiction. Christ's body is covered in wounds (in the tradition of the Fifteen Oes) and his hands and feet are clearly pierced but his eyes are open and fixed on his mother, while his right hand is extended to touch her cloak. These alternative depictions of the Pieta may derive from Italian paintings in which the Man of Sorrows is shown supported by the Virgin.

Mair am weliau i mab Gwaed oedd or llygaid iddi (Mary, for the wounds of her son, with blood flowing from her eyes) (Williams 1909,97) Breeze (1988, 116-8) quotes several similar passages, one of which, from Dafydd Eppynt's poem in praise of the Virgin, makes explicit the link between the shedding of Christ's blood and Mary's bloody tears: Wedi'r corffroi i waed er caith Gwaed ai'n olwg dyn eilwaith

7

Images of Piety Alternatively, they may have been intended to link the image of the dead Christ in his mother's arms with the Virgin and Child as a more affective counterpart to the Lily Crucifixion with its linking of Incarnation and Redemption. The carving on the west face of the churchyard cross at Llanarth (Mon, plate 30: now in the grounds of Llanarth House) has always been identified as the Virgin and Child. The figure of Christ is however exceptionally large even by medieval standards and it may be that we have here an intermediate stage in the development of the image of the Pieta. Schiller (1974 vol 2, 180 and plates 626-7 ) describes a group of northern European Pi etas in which the figure of the dead Christ on Mary's lap is small, like a child, but shows nothing to compare with the English examples in which Christ is wounded but apparently alive. The carving at Llanarth is however too worn for any certain deductions (I am grateful to Felicity Taylor for drawing this carving to my attention and for discussing it at length). There are a couple of other possible Welsh depictions of the Pieta. In his will dated 1517, William Gruffydd, burgess of Conwy, asked to be buried in the chancel of the church there 'afore Our Lady of Pity', which may have been a statue or a painting (Thomas 1876, 222). The faded wall-paintings at Llandeilo Talybont may once have included Mary in the Deposition from the Cross and the figure of the dead Christ, but if she was ever there her presence has now faded.

that Mary was herself conceived without sin. These doctrines had obvious implications for the study of Christ as well, and their development is linked with the postAnselm movement towards affective piety and the focus on the human aspect of Christ's suffering nature. On the one hand, the doctrine of the Immaculate Conception and its visual representations redressed the christological balance in the direction of Christ-as-God, by emphasising the miraculous nature of his mother's conception and birth as well as his own; on the other hand, the focus on the domestic and human in the way these stories were actually depicted swung the balance back towards Christ-as-man. According to the apocryphal accounts in the Protevangelium of James, the Gospel According to the Pseudo-Matthew and their successors, depicted in the first windows of the sequence at Gresford, Mary was born miraculously to an elderly couple whose marriage had proved infertile. The moment of her conception was traditionally said to have been the moment when her parents embraced at the Golden Gate in Jerusalem, after her birth had been prophesied by an angel (James 1924: for a summary of the apocryphal sources and a transcript of the relevant section of the Protevangelium see Ashley and Sheingorn 1990, 6-17, 53-7). These scenes (discussed below in more detail: pp 18-19) are followed in the stained glass at Gresford by the equally apocryphal story of Anne presenting her daughter at the temple (plate 13a), a parallel with the Biblical story of Samuel (on whose mother Hannah the apocryphal life of Anne may well have been based). The young Mary should have been shown in this episode as a child of three; according to the apocryphal account of the Presentation in the Gospel of Pseudo-Matthew she was miraculously able to walk up the temple steps unaided, reciting one of the gradual psalms on each step. At Gresford, however, as in most medieval visual depictions of this scene, she is shown as an adolescent. Anderson's suggestion (1971, 160-1) that the medieval artists were familiar with the equivalent episode in cycles of mystery plays, in which Mary would have been played by an older child is perhaps naive and over-literal. Medieval artists frequently depicted spiritual maturity in terms of physical adulthood - as in the numerous depictions of Jesus as a little adult on his mother's lap. Mostyn Lewis comments mockingly on the little ship visible through the archway over Anne's head 'presumably the artist thought that Jerusalem was a port!' (Lewis 1970, 6). It is however at least equally likely that this was a visual reference to the traditional description of Mary as Stella Maris, and to the belief that she had a special care for sailors. This belief is certainly reflected in Welsh poetry to her. In a poem about the shrine at Penrhys, Lewys Morgannwg promised

The early life of the Virgin Mary There are in fact very few references in the surv1vmg Welsh visual imagery to Mary as an independent actor. It is worth bearing in mind that her life could have been represented in one or more of the sequences of wall paintings which we know to have been destroyed (see below pp 84-85) or in what must have been numerous paintings of which we have no record. The frescoes on the north wall at Llangar (Meir) are so faded and damaged as to be virtually indecipherable, but it has been suggested that the upper register contains part of a Life of the Virgin. This is mainly on the basis that the head and ears of a horse or donkey can be conjecturally identified in one section. This, it has been suggested, could be either the journey to Bethlehem or the flight into Egypt. However, it seems unlikely: the the animal is facing west, and it could in any case equally well be Christ's entry into Jerusalem or any other equestrian scene. (I am grateful to Fraser Ball, the CADW curator at Rug and Llangar, for information on the various suggested interpretations of this sequence.) A rare exception is the series of stained glass illustrations of the Life of the Virgin in the east window of the Lady Chapel at Gresford (Denbs: plates 12-14). These take her story from before her miraculous conception, through her childhood and motherhood to her funeral, bodily assumption into Heaven and Coronation. This detailed elaboration of traditional stories of her early life is rooted in one of the theological developments of the later middle ages - the widely promoted but then disputed doctrine of her immaculate conception. This has to be distinguished from the doctrine of the Virgin Birth; it is the insistence

Morwyr pell a gymhellir Mair au dwg or mor a thir

'Mariners who are driven afar, Mary will bring them from sea to land' (Jones 1912, 339). Mary's early life is also represented at Hope (Flints), in a fragmentary sequence focussing on the life of her mother

8

Images of maidenhood: the Virgin Mary

St Anne and possibly including the scene of the Purification of the Virgin which has been omitted or lost at Gresford (identifiable at Hope only by the basket of birds in the central tracery lights: plate 28). There may have been another depiction of her as a child in stained glass at Tremeirchion, where the fragmentary head of a female saint has been identified as part of the scene of Anne teaching Mary to read (see below pp 19-20). Lewis identifies the haloed head of a young woman with a book at Abergele (Denb) as another example of this episode (Lewis 1970, 26 and his plate 44). Recent analysis of the paintings on the canopy of honour at Llaneilian-yn-Rhos (Denb) has identified, as well as the scenes of St Anne teaching the Virgin Mary to read and the Adoration of the Magi which Archdeacon Thomas mentioned, the Annunciation and the Adoration of the Shepherds. The paint has faded to the merest trace and the outer panels are badly damaged. It is possible, however, that the outer panels below the Annunciation represent the appearance of the angel to St Anne and St Joachim and that the panel below the Adoration of the Magi depicts the Nativity, raising the possibility of another life cycle of the Virgin Mary (Hirst 1999: I am grateful to Elizabeth Hirst of Hirst Conservation for making this report available to me and for discussing her findings).

about the Annunciation: of all the Latin prayers, it was the one which lay people were most likely to know (Cartwright 1999, 31). The Annunciation was thus a powerful image in its own right, but it also represented the moment of the Incarnation, one of the defining events of Christianity. The central belief of Christianity is that Christ's sacrifice has saved the world from sin and death. Only a human being could atone for the human action through which sin came into the world: but only God could make a sufficiently powerful atonement to wipe out the sins of the whole world. It was therefore necessary that Christ be both fully human and fully God - God made flesh in the body of a woman. It was because of her contribution to Christ's dual identity that Mary was so revered in the medieval church: it was she who gave him the humanity without which his sacrifice would have been worthless. Further, the willingness with which she agreed to her role in the great work of salvation made her a moral as well as a physical agent in the Incarnation and its consequences (Boss 2000, 26-32). The imagery in the main lights of the east window at Gresford makes it clear that the depiction of the Annunciation must be read as a visual representation of the Incarnation. Mary is shown three times, once as the Virgin of the Annunciation with a dove (plate 19b), once with lilies and palms (plate 16a, a reference to her virginity and the miracles surrounding her death), and once in a strange image in which a small but clearly identifiable figure of Mary sits on Christ's lap (plate 17). The central lights of this window (plates 17-18) contain representations of the Trinity, and the depiction of Mary in such close association with the three members of the Trinity could be read as her apotheosis as a fourth part of the godhead. Mary's presence beside the Trinity was one of her seven triumphs or heavenly joys, acclaimed by poets such as Dafydd ab Edmwnt (Breeze 1990b, 41-54 ). The Cluniac theologian Peter of Celle went so far as to describe her as almost a fourth element of the Trinity: 'if the Trinity admitted in any way an external quaternity, you alone would complete the quaternity' (Graef 1985, 253). In the Gresford window, though, it is made clear that her near-divine status is predicated on the Incarnation. She is accompanied by the Archangel Gabriel (plate 19a) and St John the Evangelist (plate 16b: the head is a restoration, probably 18th century), whose gospel begins with the well-known declaration of the mystery of the !carnation:

The Annunciation

The sequence at Gresford goes on to show the Biblical episodes in Mary's early life, beginning with the Annunciation (now largely a Victorian reconstruction). The number of depictions of the Annunciation surviving elsewhere, several of them fragmentary, suggest that this was generally perceived as a crucial devotional image, emphasising the mystery of the Incarnation as a counterpoise to that of the Crucifixion. At Llanrhaiadryng-Nghinmeirch (Denb), Mold (Flint: plate 60a) and Treuddyn (Flint), the Virgin of the Annunciation is one of the few identifiable pieces of stained glass in a patchwork of scraps. It seems likely that these fragments were saved when the window was destroyed, and that they were saved because they were significant. There are more complete depictions in glass at Llandyrnog (Denb: plate 33a), on an alabaster tomb at Abergavenny (plate la), on the canopy of honour at Llaneilian-yn-Rhos (Hirst 1999) and in a panel over the door at Holt (Denb) as well as the stained glass and (very unusually) a misericord at Gresford. The image of the Annunciation was repeated several times in stained glass at Gresford: as well as its depiction in the life story of the Virgin in the Lady Chapel, it appears in a fragment in the lower right of the east window in the Trevor chapel and in the main lights of the great east window. Duffy suggests (1992, 216) that these depictions of the Annunciation served as visual triggers for the recollection of the Annunciation story in Luke, sometimes used as the last gospel in the Mass and believed to be powerful against the Devil, and for the repetition of the Ave Maria, the prayer based on the angel's greeting to Mary. The Ave Maria also features prominently in poetry

In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God ... and the Word was made flesh, and dwelt among us, and we beheld his glory, the glory as of the only begotten of the Father, full of grace and tmth.

Images of the Evangelists were often used to recall either the incipits or (more frequently) the primer extracts from their gospels (Duffy 1992, 214-7). For the poet Gruffudd Llwyd, too, it was this which qualified Mary to be associated with the Trinity. In a poem in praise of the Trinity he describes the Incarnation in words drawn from St John's Gospel (Lewis 1937, 151; Cartwright 1999, 60):

9

Images of Piety A'r Gair aeth i Fair yn Fab A'r Gair oedd hawdd ei gam A'r Gair mab i Fair a fu Gair o nef yn gar i ni (And the Word came to Mary as a son; and the Word was easy to love; and the Word, son of Mary, was a word from Heaven and our kinsman)

A more subtle reading of the window would therefore be that it depicts Mary not as a member of the Trinity but in her relationship to each of the three other members. With lilies and a palm, she is the ever-virgin bride of the Father. On her son's knee she encapsulates in a single visual image the central paradox of her identity, that she is at the same time his mother, his sister, his bride and his daughter. This is a great deal to read into one image but it is also expressed with more elaboration in late medieval poetry (Breeze 1990a, 267-83). Iolo Goch, for example, describes her (Johnston 1993, 126-7) as mam i Dduw yn ymoddiwes, A merch i'th unbrawd, briffawd broffes, A chwaer i 'th unmab wyd a chares (Mother to God comprehending, and daughter to your one brother, declaration of greatest fortune, and you are sister to your one son and kinsman)

The third depiction of Mary with the dove of the Holy Spirit makes clear that her status is dependent on the Incarnation, the moment when, in Gabriel's words, the Holy Spirit came upon her and the power of the Almighty overshadowed her. The triple lily held by the Archangel Gabriel is another pointer to the involvement of all three persons of the Trinity in the work of the Incarnation (Koch 1982, 117). The whole series of panels is thus a concise and graphic expression of this central mystery of Christian theology. In its depiction of Mary's relationship with the Trinity, the east window at Gresford provides an orthodox alternative to the European image of the Trinity in the Virgin's womb. Breeze (1991) includes photographs of a number of European representations of the vierge ouvrante. These carvings of the Virgin open to reveal not the infant Jesus but the whole Trinity, God the Father holding the crucified Christ with the dove at his breast. This image, of the Virgin bearing the Trinity, is common in Irish as well as Welsh poetry but there are no visual representations of it in Wales. It is an unorthodox doctrine rooted in a confusion of the fact that the incarnation was the work of the whole Trinity with the notion that the Virgin actually conceived the whole Trinity. Depiction of Mary at the moment of the Incarnation also emphasises her perpetual virginity. In most surviving versions Mary is holding or confronting a white lily, the symbol of purity. However, by one of those paradoxical reversals so common in medieval symbolic thought, the lily was also believed to be able to cause or facilitate conception. The angel therefore bears a lily to enable Mary to conceive (Duggan 1991-2). The Holy Spirit is shown as a dove on a sunbeam. This is a symbol of the spirit of the

Lord in Old as well as New Testaments. However, it also refers to the medieval image devised to explain Mary's virginity postpartum. As the sun shines through the glass but does not break it, so Mary conceived and bore a child without breaking the hymen. This image appeared in the Gradual of the Mass of the Virgin in the Sarum rite (Legg 1916, 390) Lumine solari nescit vitrum violari nee vitrum sole nee virgo puerpera prole

and was incorporated in several Welsh praise poems to the Virgin. Iolo Goch praised Mary as ffenestr wydrin nef, 'the glass window of Heaven' (Johnston 1993, 128-9; cf Breeze 1997, 135; Cartwright 1999, 61-4; Breeze, forthcoming) and described how Duw o fewn aeth yn dy fynwes Fa! yr a drwy'r gwydr y terydr tes (God went into your bosom as the sunbeam goes through glass)

At Llandyrnog the dove approaches Mary's right ear: she will literally conceive the Word. At Abergavenny (Mon) the imagery is even more explicit. In an alabaster panel of the Annunciation on the east end of the tomb chest of Sir William ap Thomas and his wife Gwladus, God the Father appears as a bearded figure leaning from a cloud above the angel Gabriel's head. His breath is depicted as a cloud-like thread blowing across the panel to Mary's ear (plate la). Mary is normally depicted reading at the moment when the angel appears to her. At Llandyrnog and Abergavenny the book is still clearly visible, placed on a lectern facing the viewer to emphasise that it is open. According to Durandus, Bishop of Mande, in his treatise on the symbolism and liturgy of the church, the open book symbolises both the Book of Life and the image outlined at the beginning of St John's Gospel of the Word who is 'the light of the World and the Way, the Truth and the Life' (quoted in Camille 1989, 111). The book can also stand for the Old Testament, and in particular those Old Testament prophecies of the coming of the Messiah whose wording is reflected in the Annunciation narrative (Sheingorn 1993). Like the dove at Mary's ear, the image of the open book thus reinforces the association of the Annunciation with St John's gospel and the mystery of the Incarnation. The link between Incarnation and Crucifixion is made most clear in the famous illustration in the late fourteenthcentury Llanbeblig Book of Hours in which Christ is crucified on the lily which stands between Mary and the archangel. Duggan (1991, 39-48) suggests a range of interpretations for this complex image. According to medieval tradition, both Annunciation and Crucifixion took place on 25 March: Christ's sacrifice was already anticipated in his miraculous conception. The postcommunion collect in the Sarum rite for the mass of the Annunciation made this link clear: ...ut qui angelo nunciante christi filii tui incarnacione cognovimus per passionem eius et crucem resurrectionis gloriam perducamur. (Legg 1916, 260)

Images of maidenhood: the Virgin Mary

Like this prayer, and like the image of Mary with the Trinity in her womb, the Lily Crucifixion makes it clear that the Annunciation is a necessary precondition of the redemption. As the lily symbolises purity, the image could also signify the Crucifixion of Christ by the Virtues (Schiller 1972 vol 2, 137-40). The visual image could convey all these complex and overlapping meanings simultaneously. Hildeburgh (1923/4, 203-332) noted that the image of the Lily Crucifixion was common in other media in England - Duggan prints examples in alabaster, wood, panel paintings and stained glass - but failed to find any other examples in manuscripts. There are few examples in any medium outside England and Wales: and it is possible that the Llanbeblig Hours example is one of the earliest, if not the earliest (Duggan 1991, 45).

equally apocryphal (and ultimately contradictory) accounts of events after Mary's death, based on the Syriac Obsequies of the Holy Virgin, the Pseudo-Melito and the various recensions of the Transitus Beatae Mariae (Wright 1865: for a summary see Warner 1976, 81-90). The Transitus legends were well known in Wales and survive in a number of medieval versions (Williams 1959, 131-57; Cartwright 1999, 25). The Gresford windows are however unique in the surviving visual record in presenting Mary's death and subsequent bodily ascension to Heaven (the Assumption) as a narrative sequence. Elsewhere in Wales, visual depictions concentrate on the crucial devotional images of the Assumption and the Coronation of the Virgin. The Gresford panels narrating this story have recently been rearranged out of sequence (Lewis 1970, 41): from the left, we now have the Entombment of the Virgin, a fragmentary Coronation (plate 14b), the Funeral of the Virgin (plate 13b) and the Assumption (plate 14a). According to the earlier apocryphal accounts, Mary was carried alive to her tomb by the apostles, who had been miraculously assembled from all over the eastern world. Later versions, however, describe her death and burial. Her death was a necessary part of the tradition to establish that she was fully human. The apocryphal accounts, however, went on to claim that she had been resurrected and bodily taken into heaven. Legends surrounding her funeral included the story illustrated in the Gresford window of an onlooker who laid impious hands on her coffin. His hands stuck to the wood, and when he tried to pull them away they fell off. He repented and his hands were restored. This episode dated from the earliest versions of the story, in which the onlooker tried to shake Mary from her litter while she was being carried alive to her tomb. It was by her prayers that his hands were restored. In the later version, as depicted at Gresford, the episode is presented as a standard post-mortem miracle. The Byzantine iconography of Mary's death concentrates on the deathbed scene and the feast is still known in the Orthodox church as the Dormition of the Virgin. In the western tradition, however, the emphasis is on the Assumption, possibly reflecting the description of Mary's active ascent into Heaven in the visions of the German nun ElisabethofSchonau(d 1164) (Strachey 1924, 15-26). The account of death, entombment, resurrection and bodily ascension is so close to that of Christ as to cause some degree of iconographical confusion. A worn stone panel from the Cistercian abbey at Cwm-hir (Rads) (now built into the garden wall of the Home Farm) was identified by nineteenth-century restorers as the Ascension and copied according to that interpretation on the tympanum over the south door of the parish church. More recent opinion suggests that it is more likely that, in a Cistercian abbey dedicated to the Virgin Mary, the panel depicts her Assumption (John Davies, pers. comm.). The Gresford Assumption has been much restored, but by analogy with the other windows at Gresford it seems likely that it has been restored along the same iconographic lines as the original. It shows Mary ascending in a burst of rays of light, surrounded by worshipping angels. This is an

Narratives of the Nativity

The windows in the Gresford Lady Chapel continue with Mary's visit to her cousin Elizabeth, the birth of Jesus and the family's escape from Herod and their flight to Egypt. These are of limited use for our purposes as all that survives from the medieval glass is the inscriptions. The Victorian replacements are medieval in style and may be copies of badly-damaged medieval originals, but we cannot prove that they were modelled on windows from Gresford. They have in any case no iconographicallyunusual features. The similarities and contrasts between the Birth of the Virgin and the Birth of Jesus are however instructive. Mary's birth (plate 12b) is a social event, with attendant women, suckling and soup-making. According to the legends, Mary gave birth to Jesus alone, after Joseph had gone out to look for help. She is shown well after the birth, lying at the same angle as her mother and in the same reflective pose, her right hand under her head, but the child is already lying in the manger/crib. Joseph is in the foreground; the only other attendants are the traditional ox and ass. Between Joseph and his wife and child is a pot containing a lily, the reminder of her perpetual virginity. The Flight into Egypt is similarly devoid of extraneous detail. Joseph leads the ass on which Mary carries a rather lively baby, who looks out over her arm. The flatness and lack of iconographic detail in these panels may reflect the original: at Gresford, unusually, the Victorian restorers seem to have been concerned to reproduce as far as they could the original arrangement of the windows. It is, however, equally likely that in the absence of an adequate original model they have offered a synthesis of depictions elsewhere, an iconographic lowest common denominator. There are surprisingly few surviving representations of Christ's nativity, though the Magi are depicted on the canopy of honour at Llaneilian-yn-Rhos. Conwy once had an image of Mary with the Magi (the 'Three Kings of Cologne') in the Walton chapel: in 1529, Humfrey Holland ofConwy left 6s.8d. to gild it (Thomas 1878, 153). The Death, Assumption and Coronation of the Virgin

After the Nativity scenes the story in the Gresford sequence breaks off, to resume in a different window with

11

Images of Piety

unusually powerful image of the Assumption. Mary displays none of the humility which had become part of her late medieval image as a role model of Christian womanhood. In the Gresford Assumption she ascends serenely, her head raised and her hands uplifted in a gesture between prayer and blessing. The head is a modern replacement but from the posture of the body it seems that this Mary has always been depicted full-face, confronting and engaging with the viewer The sash of her dress is falling to the ground below her: in the official version of the legend she dropped her girdle to the ever-sceptical apostle Thomas, who had doubted her physical assumption. Iolo Goch referred to this tradition in his poem to the apostles (Breeze 1986, 95)

infertility as well as for problems in childbirth. Like the significance of visual images, the significance of relics and cults was not fixed; it could be negotiated in different contexts and in accordance with different values and priorities. As with the sequence on the life of Mary's mother Anne (see below pp 18-19), the image of Mary's girdle could be appropriated to tie the apocryphal stories of Mary's chastity and her miraculous bodily assumption into Heaven in with the daily experience of ordinary women. Boss suggests (2000, 191-6) that Mary's painless parturition could in fact offer hope and consolation to women who were afraid of a difficult birth but felt able to call on her for assistance. The sequence at Gresford is completed by a panel depicting the Coronation of the Virgin (plate 14b). This again is an unusually powerful depiction of Mary's status, though the fragmented and much-restored state of the glass makes it difficult to know how much we can rely on its imagery. Most late medieval depictions of the Coronation of the Virgin (as at Llandyrnog, Denbs:plate 33b, and Hope, Flints, two virtually identical panels of stained glass) show Mary in a submissive posture. Her hands are raised in the orans gesture of prayer, usually a portrayal of power, but her head is bowed in token of submission (on the symbolism of the orans gesture see Torjesen in Kienzle and King 1998, 42-56). In other depictions of the Coronation of the Virgin, she may have her hands crossed on her breast, or her son may be holding her right hand with his, in a gesture which hints at Bernard ofClairvaux's sermons on the Song of Solomon and the idea that Mary represents the church and hence the bride as well as the mother of Christ. The Llandyrnog and Hope Coronations avoid this: the two figures are in separate tracery lights, and Mary is already crowned. Nevertheless, the closeness of the two figures, their intimacy of expression and gesture, conveys their close human relationship, the joy of their reunion and the confidence with which Mary could intercede with her son (Morgan 1993, 45). At Gresford, in the Coronation as in the Assumption, the emphasis is not so much on Mary's relationship with her son as on her relationship with the viewer. Again she confronts us full face, her hands raised in a gesture which is not quite the full orans gesture of the catacomb frescoes but which is still almost more of a blessing than a prayer. A rather elderly Christ in a nimbed halo looks towards her and bends over to crown her. The whole scene glows out of a sunburst surrounded by worshipping angels. There may have been another depiction of the Coronation of the Virgin in the lost wall paintings at Cyffylliog (Denb: anonymous note in Arch. Camb.1876, 17). The wall paintings were discovered during restoration, but while the building was unroofed there was a storm and the plaster disintegrated. The anonymous report describes portions of an unidentified helmeted figure on the north wall. On the south wall, a painting with three compartments obviously predated the rood loft, which hid part of it. The central panel had three large figures and one small. The main figure had its hand raised in benediction. The smallest figure was crowned and had both hands raised. There were kneeling censing angels with feathered robes in the side panels, and the background was diapered with

From her host she let down To Thomas from heaven her protection, Her girdle made most excellently Of gold and jewels, the fair maiden.

In the composite Assumption and Coronation of the Virgin carved in alabaster on the tomb of Sir Richard Herbert of Ewias (d 1510) in the priory church of Abergavenny (Mon) (plate lb), Mary's girdle is slipping across her skirt as she rises into the air. But behind the figure of Sir Richard, who kneels in plate armour below Mary's feet, St Thomas can be seen already holding the relic. Mary ascends serenely into Heaven, in a pose similar to that of the Gresford Virgin, though at Abergavenny her uplifted hands have been broken off. She is encircled by a rayed ellipse, and around her are diminutive angels and figures identified by their heraldic shields as Sir Richard's children. Above her are the three persons of the Trinity, God the Father, Christ and the Holy Spirit, jointly placing a triple crown on her head. As in the Gresford Assumption, Mary is portrayed full face, gazing out of the image to engage the viewer, while the other figures (including the three persons of the Trinity) are depicted in three-quarter face or profile, looking at and engaging with her. The style of the carving suggests that it came from or was influenced by the Burton-on-Trent school of carvers (Nelson 1919, 136 and plate 6). The detail of the carving may therefore have been the responsibility of the craftsmen rather that the donor, though the overall iconographic scheme is more likely to have been the donor's responsibility. Doubt has been cast on whether the central part of this panel, the section with Mary, St Thomas, the angels and the Trinity, was originally part of the tomb design. It is stylistically similar but does not exactly fit the stone plinth which supports it. It was certainly in its present position when Richard Symonds saw it in 1645 (Long 1859, 236-7). It is however an unusual position for a carving of the Assumption. It is possible, though unlikely, that it was once part of an altar reredos and was incorporated into the tomb at some point after the Reformation and the dissolution of the little priory whose church the parishioners shared (Philip Lindley, pers. comm.). A number of English and European churches claimed to hold relics of Mary's girdle. Ironically, in view of Mary's virginal status, these relics were treated as a cure for

12

Images of maidenhood: the Virgin Mary

pomegranates. This, the note suggested, was either the Coronation of the Virgin or the Presentation of Christ in the Temple. Miriam Gill suggests (pers. comm.) that the former identification is more likely. Mary's status as queen of Heaven was acclaimed by some medieval theologians: for Bonaventure, for example,

for affective piety, it also made a profound Christological point about Christ's humanity. (For a fuller discussion of this see below pp 48.) The Virgin and Child also appear at the focal point of the Tree of Jesse, the visual representation of Christ's descent from the house of David and the fulfilment of the prophecy in Isaiah ch 11, 'There shall come forth a rod out of the stem of Jesse, and a branch shall grow out of his roots ...'. By the third century, the rod from the stem of Jesse was understood to be Mary herself, and the Mass of the Virgin refers punningly to her as the virga, the rod. From about 1 000 the branch from Jesse's root was regarded as a s;mbol of Christ and was often placed in the hand of the Virgin Mary as an attribute. Most later medieval depictions of the Tree of Jesse incorporate the kings of Israel from the patrilineal genealogy of Christ's earthly father Joseph as outlined in the Gospels of Matthew and Luke. These two genealogies are however different, and by the second century it was being assumed that one of them related to Mary. This was the origin of the emphatically matrilineal imagery of the Holy Kindred, a visual reminder of the alternative texts tracing Mary's own descent from the house of David (Ashley and Sheingorn 1990, 170-8). The border priest John Mirk, prior of Lilleshall in Shropshire, included a sermon for St Anne's Day in his collection of popular sermons, the Festial (Erbe 1905). At leat part of the F estial was translated into Welsh (Lewis 1925), but the surviving text breaks off before St Anne's Day: however, the collection still stands as an example of the teaching delivered at parish level in the Welsh borderland. Mirk's sermon identifies Mary's descent through Joachim; an alternative version in the Golden Legend identifies her with the house of Levi. Welsh depictions of the Tree of Jesse (such as the detailed examples in stained glass at Diserth, at Llanrhaiadr-yng-Nghinmeirch, Denbs (plates 51-54), and possibly at Gresford) with their numerous kings (most of them identifiable from the list in Matthew) point to the patrilineal genealogy. Like the other representations of the Virgin and Child, the complex iconography of these genealogies is making a Christological point. What is being emphasised here is Christ's human, earthly family rather than his biological descent, since it is with Joseph not Mary that the genealogical line ends, though Joseph himself is nowhere represented. At the same time, Mary herself is given a privileged position at the top or heart of the tree. The Jesse sequence at Gresford is part of a larger scheme in the great east window. Much of what is now visible is Victorian restoration, but enough remains to suggest that here at least the Victorians were following a medieval schema. The Jesse Tree fills the upper tracery. Below, at the top of the main lights, is the sequence of the Trinity with the Virgin Mary, St John the Evangelist and Gabriel. The main part of the window consists of a Te Deum sequence, mainly Victorian restoration but with some original figures and inscriptions. As we have seen, this assemblage locates the Virgin as part of the Trinity sequence through her role in the Incarnation, foretold by the prophets who figure in the Tree. Caroline Walker Bynum has argued ( 1982, 110-169;

by reason of the nuptials the Virgin Mary is the Mother of God; because of the royal throne she is the Queen of Heaven; because of the priestly vestments she is the advocate of the human race. and he applied to her the instruction in 2 Philippians 10 that in her honour every knee should bow (Graef 1985, 286- 7). The Peniarth 20 version of the Welsh bardic grammar, which has been attributed to Dafydd Ddu o Hiraddug, describes Mary as vrenhines nef a dayar ac uffern, 'queen of heaven, earth and hell' (Williams, G.J., and Jones 1934, 55). This veneration was however problematic: Mary was a woman, and the model for all women. The virtues required of women were humility, submissiveness and obedience. The different depictions of the Coronation of the Virgin negotiate this conundrum in different ways, from the exaltation of Gresford to the submissiveness of Llandyrnog and Hope. The only other depictions of the Coronation are too worn or fragmented for detailed analysis. The figures on the churchyard cross at Derwen (Denbs) can only be identified by their general pose (and the fact that the church is dedicated to the Virgin Mary). The crowned female head at Dolwyddelan Old Church may be the Virgin Mary but there is not enough surviving detail to confirm this (Lewis 1970, 34).

The Virgin and Child Elsewhere, Mary appears mainly in her relationship with her son, as the archetype of sanctified motherhood in carvings and paintings of the Virgin and Child. There are too many of these to list: in stained glass, on churchyard crosses, on the chandeliers at Llanarmon-yn-Ial and Llandegla (Denb ), on the font at Gres ford and painted on the walls at Llancarfan (Glam). The tender lyricism of later medieval depictions of Mary as a devoted mother, feeding or playing with the young Jesus, emphasised her approachability rather than her power (Morgan 1993, 46). However, the image of the Virgin and Child communicates not only holy motherhood but the mystery of the Incarnation, the ruler of the universe as a powerless infant. The pairing of Virgin and Child with Crucifixion on so many churchyard crosses is yet another reminder that it was Incarnation and Redemption, not Nativity and Crucifixion/ Ascension which bracketed the medieval narrative of salvation. The visual imagery of late medieval Wales has surprisingly few representations of the Christ-child apart from his mother: there is apparently no interest in the infancy tales and miracles. The focus, as with the depictions of the Crucifixion, is less on narrative than on the devotional image. Nevertheless, while the depiction of the infant Christ and his mother was an obvious stimulus

13

Images of Piety

1990, 262-8) that the most extravagant devotion to the Virgin Mary is found among male theologians: female mystics are far more likely to express devotion to Christ himself. We should not however assume that the writings of the mystics are necessarily a guide to secular devotion. What we have at Gresford is a sequence of stained glass which focuses on the life and family background of the Virgin Mary, depicts her death, assumption and coronation in a way which emphasises her power rather than her humility, and finally places her with the Trinity: and this is in a church which was virtually rebuilt in the late fifteenth century under the influence of one of the most powerful women in late medieval England and Wales, the redoubtable Margaret Beaufort, wife of Thomas, Lord Stanley and mother of Henry Tudor. Mystics and male theologians might emphasise Mary's humility and maternal devotion; at Gresford, under the influence of Margaret Beaufort, the focus is on her status and power. The significance of Mary's holiness and her status as mother and bride of Christ was as subject to negotiation as any other aspect of religion.

We do however have detailed descriptions of what was possibly the most important of these statues, the one at Penrhys, from the numerous poems written in its praise (Gray 1996). The shrine of the Virgin at Penrhys was the only Welsh shrine to the Virgin widely known outside Wales. Rhisiart ap Rhys's vague reference to llun ymhell a enwir, 'a far-famed image' (Williams and Rowlands 1976, 18) and Lewis Morgannwg's claim that pilgrims came hyd mor a thir, 'over sea and land' (Hartwell Jones 1912, 559) may mean no more than that the shrine attracted the devout of the West of England as well as Wales, but the image there was sufficiently important for its destruction to be a national priority in 1538. Latimer wrote to Cromwell grouping Penrhys with images of the Virgin at Worcester, Ipswich, Doncaster and Walsingham which 'would make a jolly muster in Smithfield. They would not be all day in burning' (PRO SP 1/133). The shrine was dismantled on Thomas Cromwell's special instructions in August of that year; the statue was taken to London and publicly burned (PRO SP 1/136) The descriptions of the poets make it clear that, like so many of the statues, the one at Penrhys was in fact the Virgin and Child. However, while the evidence of visual imagery views Mary in the context of her son, in the poetry Christ is referred to only in passing and in the context of his mother. The statue at Penrhys seems to have shown Mary standing, as a model of humility and tender motherhood, rather than seated in the hieratic and powerful image of the 'Throne of Wisdom' (Gilchrist 1994, 140-8). Rhisiart ap Rhys describes her as 'the tall maid' (Ward 1914, 397). She holds the infant Jesus 'in each arm' (Ward 1914, 403 line 12) - 'in thine arms is the one God above' (3 99 line 21) - and she bends over to kiss him, 'nursing Jesus for a kiss' (399 line 2). The infant Jesus has his hand confidingly on her arm (398 line 8). The statue was painted and gilded: she is 'the Virgin Mary of the ruddy cheek' (398 line 1), 'with her colour golden' (398 line 7) and 'of snow-white hue' (399 line 15). It had also been decked by the offerings of the faithful. The accounts of its destruction refer to the statue 'and her apparel', and the will of Thomas Cadogan, valet of the Crown, in 1511, bequeathed his best tunic to the statue (Prichard 1988, 29). Like many other images of the Virgin - including one at nearby Tintern as well as the more famous image at Puy in France from which the tradition seems to derive (Prichard 1988, 21-2) - the statue at Penrhys was said to have appeared miraculously and to have resisted all attempts to remove it from the site. According to Lewis Morgannwg (Hartwell Jones 1912, 338-9)

Lost images

Unfortunately, the best-known and most powerful depictions of the Virgin Mary have all been lost. The statue of Our Lady of the Taper at Cardigan was said to have been found near the river Teifi with a candle which burned undiminished for nine years. The description of this statue by Priar Hoare of Cardigan makes it clear that it was actually the Virgin and Child. Like many similar Continental statues, and like the better-known Welsh statue at Penrhys, it had been found under miraculous circumstances (in this case, floating in the Teifi with a taper burning in its hand) and had resisted all efforts to remove it to the town church; eventually a chapel was built for it (Wright 1843, 186-7). There was a similar statue at nearby Haverfordwest and the 'living image' (possibly mechanically animated) at Mold is now thought to have been a statue of the Virgin Mary rather than Christ. Poetic and other literary and archival evidence suggests that a number of similar statues were the focus of local and even regional devotion. Glanmor Williams lists passing references to statues at Llanystumdwy and Rhiw (Caerns), Pilleth (Rads) and Cydweli (Carms) (Williams 1976, 4934). Adam ofUsk wanted to be buried in front of the image of the Virgin in the priory church at Usk (Bradney 1923, 59). This may have been the carving of her face on the priory screen (for a photograph see Cartwright 1996, plate 38) but is much more likely to have been a freestanding statue. A statue at Mold (possibly the 'living image' and presumably the statue for which the ornate niche in the north aisle, with its vine trails, angels and carving of David playing the harp was constructed) was rediscovered and destroyed as recently as 1768 (Thomas 1874, 601). The wholesale destruction of these images can probably be taken as testimony to their power and to the level of devotion they attracted. While we have three surviving statues of the crucified Christ, we have only one of Mary, that from Mochdre.

llyna yn wir i llun o nef... anrydedd pan gad meddynt i kad gwytih yn y koed gynt vry oi chyddygl verch addwyn o von dar ny vynnai dwyn (There verily is her image from heaven ... When this honour was obtained, they said a miracle was found of old in the woods. She, gentle maid, would not be taken up from her shrine of oak-tmnk)

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Images of maidenhood: the Virgin Mary

This extract refers to the traditional account that the image had been found in an oak tree - in some accounts, by a swineherd, in others by a huntsman - and that a team of oxen had been unable to haul it back to the abbey at Llantarnam. Christine James has recently suggested (James 1995) that these traditions may have originated in a conjectural incident during the Glyndwr uprising. Penrhys was a grange belonging to the Cistercian monks of Llantarnam. They had tenants as well as lay brothers there, and would have had to provide a chapel for them to worship in. The chapel would almost inevitably have contained an image of the Virgin and Child. Archaeological evidence (Ward 1914; G.J. Jenkins, pers. comm.) has identified the foundations of a chapel at Penrhys which appears to have been damaged by fire in about 1400 and subsequently rebuilt in a slightly different style. Other local traditions (for which we have unfortunately only the dubious evidence of Iolo Morgannwg) describe the destruction of a religious foundation at Penrhys in reprisal for its support of Glyndwr. The Cistercians of Llantarnam supported Glyndwr: and we know that some of their property elsewhere was subjected to reprisals by the English army. It is possible to conjecture that the local people fled, hiding their valuables; that they hid the statue of the Virgin in an oak tree; and that it was later found preserved as if by a miracle. It is even possible to speculate that they may then have intended to move the statue to Llantarnam for safe keeping but were continually prevented by other commitments, and that eventually, being accustomed to supernatural explanations, they concluded that it was the statue that did not want to be moved. The archaeological evidence can be used with the poetry to enable us to reconstruct the eventual location of the statue. The first chapel building had buttresses and a stone cross wall which has been interpreted as the foundation of a narrow chancel arch. It was rebuilt, probably in the fifteenth century, and the cross wall removed and replaced by a timber screen. In most churches a screen in this position would have carried the rood, but at Penrhys it may have been designed to hold the famous statue of the Virgin. Gwilym Tew offered as his penance

now Dr Williams, for her help and advice on Gwilym Tew's poetry). The descriptions of the statue at Penrhys are a powerful and shaming reminder of the way in which Mary's appearance has been approximated to western European ideals of female beauty. She is tall and slender, with golden hair, fair complexion and rosy cheeks. For the poets, too, Mary was the ideal of aristocratic femininity. However, as Cartwright notes (1999, 51), the poets were able to hide behind vague phrases in their descriptions of her physical appearance - claiming, for example, that her beauty was so great that it hurt the eyes of those who beheld her. For those who depicted her in paint, glass, wood and stone, this was not an option: and for all their lack of skill at times, it is apparent that they tried to present her as a pretty and well-brought-up young woman of the upper classes. Mary as the intercessor for souls

Late medieval devotion to Mary has been interpreted as a response to over-emphasis on the condemnatory aspects of Christ's depiction as judge. The view of Mary as the supreme intercessor for the salvation of souls, the mediator between human frailty and Christ's perfection, goes back to the late patristic period in the Eastern church and can be found in the Western tradition from the tenth century. It was popularised by Bernard of Clairvaux, who presented Mary as the supreme human mediator, the channel of grace chosen by God. Because Christ was both God and man, he argued, we need another, purely human mediator to intercede for us with Christ. He was followed in this by a number of later medieval theologians (Graef 1985, esp 202-5, 237-8, 266-322). In a discussion of several Irish depictions of the Virgin and Child on tombs (Ryan forthcoming, 1), Salvador Ryan suggests that this should be read as an acknowledgement of the power of the Virgin Mary at the hour of death and the Last Judgement, placating and restraining her son's exercise of his judicial office. There is undoubtedly an echo of this in late medieval religious poetry. Lewis Morgannwg feared the last judgement; his poem 'To the Virgin Mary of Penrhys' has a vivid image, possibly drawn from paintings of the Doom, of Satan weighing down the balance in which souls were weighed (Ward 1914, 396):

offrwm prif un rhif o eirw rhyd, graean o aur ac arian [ar ei] gwryd

which Ifano Jones translates as 'a chief offering as numerous as the foaming waters of the stony ford/ In gold and money upon her fathom rood' (Jones 1912, 448; Ward 1914, 404). Gwryd is literally 'the length of a man', and by extension the breadth of a man from fingertip to fingertip of his outstretched arms, according to the medieval aesthetic theory that this measurement should be equal to his height. For this reason gwryd is sometimes translated as 'rood', the image of Christ outstretched on the cross. However, Anne Jones suggests caution in translating this line, and warns that gwryd can simply be translated as 'person': the offerings may be intended to be placed on the image as jewels (pers. comm.: I am grateful to Dr Jones,

For my soul do I fear; I fear to see my enemy At the head of the balance for the soul of man I fear greatly to go below; I fear the judgement of my God above ... Let Mary - the petitioner for all things - petition for a word Mary, one word for my soul!

The image of the Virgin laying her rosary on St Michael's scales as a counterpoise to the efforts of the Devil is a commonplace in medieval Welsh literature (below, pp 58-59; Breeze 1989-90). There are few surviving example in Welsh visual art of this image, 15

Images of Piety though it is familiar in English religious pamtmg (for examples see e.g. Duffy 1992, 318-9 and plates 120-2). The only certain Welsh version is on the repositioned rood panels at Llaneilian-yn-Rhos (Denb, plate 40a: see below pp 58). Other versions of this scene have been damaged or lost. The parishioners of Llangybi (Mon) recall that the wall painting exposed on the north nave wall of their church did at one time look like a figure with scales standing between two other figures, and some are prepared to identify one of the figures as being Mary with her rosary. Unfortunately, the parish was unable to afford conservation for the painting and it has now deteriorated beyond recognition. According to Stowe MS 1023 the church at Llangystennin (Caerns) once had a stained glass panel of St Michael weighing souls and Mary interceding for them. The surviving inscription SACT MIC could at one time be seen in the panel of St Peter (Lewis 1970, 66, quoting RCAHM 1956 [Caerns. i],133) but has now disappeared. Elsewhere, Mary appears in the great Last Judgement over the chancel arch at Wrexham, standing at her son's right hand (plate 67). Her she is depicted as the mater misericordia, Gwilym Tew's 'Gentle Mary, the mother of mercy' (Ward 1914, 398 line 3), her breasts exposed, pleading for mercy. The same image appears in Gaelic bardic religious poetry and its use in the Christian tradition dates at least from the twelfth century when it was used by the Benedictine abbot Arnold of Bonneval correspondent and biographer of Bernard of Clairvaux. It has been suggested that it may derive ultimately from classical models, as in the 'Iliad', where Hecuba displays her breast to her son, Hector in an effort to persuade him not to fight Achilles, though this is not so much a plea for mercy as a plea to Hector not to risk his own life. There are other classical parallels: but in all these cases the mother who exposes her breasts is pleading for mercy for herself or for those close to her rather than (as Mary does in the Doom) for the souls of all the dead. The motif also appears in a similar fashion in the hero tales of Gaelic Ireland (Salvador Ryan, pers. comm. and Ryan forthcoming, 2; see also the discussion on http://www.mailbase.ac. uk/lists/medievalre ligion/2000-0 5 .html). The Marian theologians who followed Bernard of Clairvaux and Arnold of Bonneval described Mary as baring her breasts as Christ showed his wounds, to ask for mercy: as she had suffered in spirit watching her son's agony, so she shared in the work of redemption (Graef 1985, 243-4). Alfonso X, in his Cantigas de Santa Maria, gives an example (Cantiga LXXX):

The image was however to become a commonplace of medieval depictions of the Last Judgement. A number of the surviving examples from Denmark are almost identical with the Wrexham Doom (Banning 1976, passim: James Mills, pers. comm.) The same image appears in stained glass (as in the East window at Tewkesbury) as well as in numerous manuscripts.

The breast-feeding Virgin For the poets, Mary's role as petitioner was predicated on her status as Christ's mother and nurse. The image of Mary as the nursing mother was a popular poetic trope. Gwilym Tew described her as 'nurse of an emperor' and outlined unerringly the central paradox of ' the virgin who is a nurse' (Ward 1914, 404 lines 29, 46). Ieuan ap Hywel Swrdwal's famous poem, written while he was a student in Oxford to show how traditional Welsh verse forms could be used in English poetry, describes how owr ffadyrs ffadyr, owr ffiding,/owrpop on iwr paps had swking (Garlick and Mathias 1984, 45) In illustrations in the Llanbeblig Book of Hours and Peniarth MS 23 and on the seals of several religious houses, Mary is shown feeding the infant Christ (Cartwright 1999 pls. I, III, 8; Williams 1993, 17, 46, 88). The image of the breastfeeding virgin is complex and could be appropriated to a range of significations (Coletti 1993, 89). At its simplest, the image of a humble virgin who was also queen of Heaven feeding a helpless baby who was also the all-powerful God encapsulated in all its paradoxicality the doctrine of the Incarnation. But the Virgin Mary was also seen as a type or figure of the church. Both were spoken of as the bride of Christ: and in her willing co-operation with God's plan of salvation mary provided a model for the ideal relation of the church to God. Her milk therefore came to symbolise the nourishment which the Church offered to the faithful (Boss 2000, 32-3). Bynum further links the image of the breastfeeding Virgin with the imagery of Christ's wounds, also displayed in the Last Judgement but frequently described in mystical writings as feeding the soul (Bynum 1987, 2703). Mary's actual suckling of her child was presented as evidence of her humility, and relics of her milk were venerated all over the Christian world (Warner 1985, 192205). However, in the Llanbeblig Book of Hours illustration and the monastic seals, Mary is shown seated on a throne under a canopy and holding her breast out to a well-grown child. This is the traditional hieratic image of the 'Throne of Wisdom', Mary enthroned with the Child on her knee. It places the emphasis on Mary's uniquely powerful status, though the fact that she is nursing the child makes her more human and approachable. By contrast, the depiction of her standing with the Christ-child in her arms emphasises her humility and tender motherhood. One of the breast-feeding seals comes from the Benedictine women's house at Usk (Mon: plate 66).

E en aquel dia, quan'ele for mais irado/ m6stra-ll'as tetas

santas que ouv' el mamado (And that day, when He was more angty/ She shows Him the holy teats He once suckled) with a miniature illuminating the verse. Although the text uses the plural, the image depicts the Virgin with just one bare breast. The Cantigas are probably the earliest example of this particular image (Carlos Sastre, pers. comm.).

16

Images of maidenhood: the Virgin Mary

Gilchrist (1994, 143-8) notes a few nunnery seals depicting the standing Virgin and Child but far more with the Throne of Wisdom, though she does not record how many of the seated figures are actually breast-feeding. However, Mary is also depicted seated and feeding her son on the seal of the Tironian men's house at St Dogmael's (Pembs), a seal so similar to that ofUsk that David Williams has suggested the matrix came from the same designer or engraver (1993, 17). The image on the common seal of the Cistercian men's house at Tintern is less clear but is very similar to the other two and is probably of Mary offering her breast to the child standing on her lap (for a photograph see Williams 1993, 88, though he suggests on p 46 that she is holding an orb). Devotion to the nursing Virgin was not therefore an exclusively female phenomenon. Indeed, Clarissa Atkinson (1991, 142) has found no traditions of actual miracles involving Mary's milk where the beneficiaries were other than monks and priests. This tends to support Caroline Bynum's timely reminder (1982, 110-169; 1990, 262-8) that mystical devotion to Mary is largely a male phenomenon. Nevertheless, we need not necessarily equate the writings of the mystics, powerful though they were, with the imagery of conventional secular piety. What we have at Wrexham is not mysticism but an image familiar from both sacred and secular tradition of a mother pleading with her son. The intercessory role of the medieval queen was consciously modelled on saintly and Biblical examples (Huneycutt 1995) and the Virgin Mary was the supreme example of these. However, the analogy could then operate in reverse, so that the familiar topos of the intercessory queen coloured popular understanding of Mary's contribution to human salvation. John Carmi Parsons (1995) has argued that the intercessory role was used to limit the independent power of the later medieval queens, stressing their subordinate position and making them the fount of mercy rather than power. The visual representation of Mary as a queen pleading with her son is thus not necessarily straightforward image of power and authority: it carries with it possible undertones of subordination. The poets represented Mary's pleas for mercy as their best hope: and there were obvious dangers in this. However, the fine line between Mary's power as a petitioner and the ultimate decision-making power of God is one which, on the whole, they tread fairly well. The

most extravagant claims are reserved for Mary's power to heal bodily sickness. When it comes to salvation, she can only petition: and, as Lewys Morgannwg makes clear (Ward 1914 pp 400-401 ), her value as a petitioner is based not on her inherent powers but on her status as the mother of God. I have deliberately omitted a crucial line in the extract from his description of the Last Judgement quoted above. Before mentioning Mary, he petitions Christ by his sufferings: fear the judgement I petition hisfive wounds (Ward 1914, 396 lines 38-9)

of

my

God

above.

and Mary is 'the petitioner for all things' (line 40). This is clearly Mary's status in the Wrexham Doom: she kneels as a supplicant on Christ's right as John the Baptist kneels on his left. Christ sits between them enthroned and in the scarlet robe of a judge, but with his naked body beneath the robe displaying his wounds. Angels in the background hold the Instruments of the Passion to reinforce the message. Mary can beg Christ by the breasts which nursed him, but ultimately the souls will be saved by the wounds he is displaying. Nor can Mary nourish her petitioners directly: in Ieuan ap Hywel Swrdwal's poem, it is Christ who is 'our feeding'. The depictions at Llaneilian, Llangystennin and Wrexham are the only certain visual examples of Mary actively interceding for souls (and as with the depiction of Mary at the Crucifixion we cannot do more than argue from what is known, by survival to the present day or in descriptions of now-lost imagery). The poetry and prose literature may present Mary as a healer and a powerful interceder for souls; the visual imagery clearly subordinates her role in salvation to that of her son. The broader significance of her life is equally ambiguous. With her parents St Anne and St Joachim she represents the sanctification of the family and motherhood, albeit motherhood divorced from its sexual connotations. On the one hand, the emphasis on her immaculate conception and the miraculous circumstances of her birth set her apart from other women; but on the other hand the context of domesticity in which she is depicted shows how her story could be appropriated by women and used to sanctify their own experience.

17

ChapterTwo Images of motherhood:St Anne and the marriedsaints Important as Mary was as a devotional figure whose imagery could be appropriated by ordinary women as well as mystical theologians, her virginal conception, painless childbirth and subsequent life of chastity made it difficult to approximate her experiences to the concerns of everyday life. Mary's life has few parallels even with the lives of other virginal female saints. While the lives of other female saints often begin as they approach womanhood and focus on the heroic defence of their virginity, Mary's chastity was never challenged. Nor was she obliged to retreat from the world in order to avoid corrupting others. The light (sometimes literal as well as metaphorical) of her holiness served as a cloak, protecting her from impious eyes (Cartwright 1999, 25, 53). The pattern of her life is in fact nearer to that of the typical male saint, with its emphasis on her miraculous conception and birth and the supernatural events surrounding her childhood (Henken 1991, 23-30).

fifteenth century was for much of Europe a period of social and economic development, prosperity and cultural renewal. With the rise of the cloth industry and increased urbanisation, women had careers as artisans, craft experts and businesswomen. Literate and pious, they valued charity above chastity and wanted to live the mixed life, devout but in the world and engaging with it. (MulderBakker 1995, 19-26) It needs to be remembered, though, that this revival came later to England than to the European mainland, and even later to Wales. As a country largely in the mountain zone of Britain, Wales was affected particularly badly by the agricultural crisis following the deterioration of the climate in the early fourteenth century. This was followed by a century of intermittent civil disturbance, culminating in the Glyndwr uprising of 1400, and a period of savage repression thereafter. Economic revival is only perceptible at the very end of the century. Low population levels meant prosperity for those who survived, but it was a prosperity based on subsistence agriculture and dispersed settlement. This may provide one explanation for the different emphases in late medieval spirituality in Wales.

Chastity and motherhood in late medieval sanctity

Chastity, both physical and spiritual, was fundamental to the medieval concept of sanctity for men as well as women: and for women the physical attribute of virginity was crucial. The emphasis in Welsh religious art was always on the virgin saints and martyrs. However, in the later medieval period in continental Europe, paralleling the increased number of female saints and the increased emphasis on extremes of ascetic practice in defining sanctity, there was a perceptible increase in the number of saints who had chosen to consecrate their lives in maturity, after marriage, child-bearing and all that that implied. It was however necessary that they be prepared to abdicate their married status, or at least to give up the sexual expression of their relationships. There were few role models for women wishing to lead a sanctified life within marriage (Weinstein and Bell 1986, 87-96). This makes St Anne particularly important as a woman who, according to some accounts, bore children while living as a saint. This was however only one version of her story, and the increased popularity of the doctrine of the Immaculate Conception resulted in a downplaying of Anne's role as a sexually active married saint and an increased emphasis on the value of chastity within marriage. Mulder-Bakker (1995, 17 ff) outlines three types of female holy life - the virgin martyr, the married woman and the ascetic mystic. As she admits, the married woman was rarely canonized even by local cults while she was married: but several (including high-profile saints like St Brigid of Sweden) achieved sanctity after a period of chastity within marriage and consecrated widowhood. She argues that the increased popularity in the later medieval period of the cults of married female saints who exhibited sanctity in their lives in the secular world can to some extent be linked with social and economic change. After the subsistence crisis of the fourteenth century, the

Holy mothers: the example of St Anne

The Welsh evidence does however offer some support for Mulder-Bakker's suggestion that the late medieval period saw a revaluation of the sanctity of holy women living in the world. We can see these different emphases clearly if we contrast the Virgin Mary of the Annunciation at Mold (plate 60a) with Anne in her garden at nearby Gresford (plate 12a). Mary is a young girl, roused from ecstatic contemplation by the vision of the angel, her hair blown back from her startled face by the wind of the Spirit. Anne is a plain, dumpy middle-aged housewife praying in her garden, taking advantage of an opportunity for rest and fresh air but spending the time kneeling at her devotions. The hands raised in surprise at the angel's message are strong, capable hands which could knead bread or sew clothes for the poor. Nevertheless, as the activity in which she is engaged when the angel approaches her makes clear, she is an intelligent and reflective woman. Like her daughter in the Annunciation she is kneeling in prayer but with a book open before her. This focus on preponderantly bookoriented patterns of secular female devotion is significant in that it reflects the importance of women in the combination of practical charity and an educated and reflective spirituality. It is reinforced by depictions of Anne teaching Mary to read (of which there is an example on the canopy of honour at Llaneilian-yn-Rhos, Denb, and possibly another at Tremeirchion, Flints). Representations of St Anne teaching the Virgin have to be seen in the context of increasing female literacy and the importance which Clanchy attaches to the role of women in the transmission of literacy (Clanchy 1993, 189-96, 251-2). 18

Images of motherhood: St Anne and the married saints

However, they also demand to be read more symbolically. The book can be a symbol for Christ, the Logos, the Word, which Mary was to bring into the world; it can also stand for the Old Testament, and in particular those Old Testament prophecies of the coming of the Messiah (Sheingorn 1993). For the Flemish humanists, Anne's literacy and learning were her most important characteristic, overshadowing for a while her status as a patron of infertile women, but theirs was a response to the traditional visual image rather than its origin (Tilmans 1995, 331-51, and esp 333, 336, 345). The other emphasis in these narratives of the life of Anne is on her status as a married and sexually active woman. It is because the relationship has failed to produce the expected fruit that her husband Joachim is disgraced, his offering at the temple rejected. However, although according to the earlier version of the tradition Anne and Joachim were sexually active (and Anne went on to have other children), her conception of her daughter Mary was miraculous and without the corrupting implications of carnal knowledge. The garden in which she is seen praying symbolises nature controlled and the hortus conclusus of the bride in the Song of Solomon. Her conception was believed to have taken place at the moment when she embraced Joachim at the Golden Gate in accordance with the angel's instructions, an event which forms the next episode in the sequence at Gresford. Anne and Joachim are then blessed by the High Priest: the clerical hierarchy is involved, but only when the crucial event has taken place. The birth of the Virgin Mary offered another opportunity to approximate the experience of ordinary women with that of the Holy Family. Mary's own experience of pregnancy and giving birth had of course to be presented as miraculously easy and free of pain and mess: as Gwilym Tew said, 'she was with child without illness' (Ward 1914, 403). However, her own birth could be seen in slightly more realistic terms: and it is in depictions of the birth of the Virgin that we find some of our best evidence for the everyday details of this most intimate experience. In the next window at Gresford, Anne is shown shortly after the birth of her daughter (plate 12b). The baby has been taken and wrapped in swaddling bands by a female attendant. Joachim stands in the background with his hands extended, to take the baby or in anxious enquiry about his wife. Anne lies on her side, exhausted; one of her breasts is visible above the bed-sheets, suggesting that she has been feeding the baby herself. In the foreground, another woman is making soup over a brazier. Realistic detail and spiritual significance intersect and interact here. We have already considered the powerful symbolism of the Virgin Mary's milk and its importance in the affective piety of the later medieval mystics. However, breast milk and breast-feeding was also an important attribute of the non-virginal holy mother. In the light of the belief that moral and spiritual qualities could be transmitted through breast milk, great care had to be taken in the selection of a wet-nurse, and theologians recommended that even women of high status should nurse their own children (Nip 1995, 214) The lives of married

female saints are full of praise for the fact that they fed their own children in spite of the inconvenience and loss of status this entailed. Ida of Boulogne's child was fed by a wet-nurse in her absence (in church, naturally); on her return, she did her best to make the child vomit up the lowquality milk (Nip 1995, 216-7). Robert de la Chaise-Dieu, Ursulina di Parma and St Brigid of Sweden's daughter Katarina, who eventually became a saint herself, were all said to have refused to drink milk from an unchaste wetnurse. Katarina would only accept milk from her mother or another woman of good character, and even refused to feed from her mother after Brigid had sexual intercourse (Weinstein and Bell 1986, 24-5; Nieuwland 1995, 303). Sexual activity during lactation was also believed to be damaging to the child, so a woman who willingly breastfed her children was ipso facto celibate during that time. The holy mother is thus presented as a woman who did what was best for her children rather than following her own preferences or desires: and Anne is here seen as the archetype of the holy mother. Images of Anne as a breastfeeding mother were common in continental Europe, and at the church of St Anne in Limoges a relic of her breast was venerated. Folk custom in France identified her as a saint particularly helpful to women who had difficulty lactating, and at Llanmihangel (Glam) the water from St Anne's Well flowed through the breasts of a female figure carved on a stone slab (Sautman in Ashley and Sheingorn 1990, 82; Jones 1954, 180. For a photograph of the well see Cartwright 1999 plate XI). Like the depiction of Anne reading in the garden and the emphasis on her teaching the Virgin Mary to read, breastfeeding is thus seen as an attribute of the good mother. Maternal influence is crucially important in the vitae of a number of medieval saints, and not only the female saints. As well as the girls who chose to dedicate themselves to a life of sanctity at an early age, pious mothers had a powerful influence on the lives of some of the most famous male saints. Bernard of Clairvaux, Dominic de Guzman, Thomas Aquinas, Gilbert of Sempringham, all were prepared for lives of holiness by their early upbringing, and the mother rather than the father was seen as the most important influence on their education as well as the formation of their moral and spiritual character. The general interpretation of these topoi is that they are reflections of Mary's role in the childhood of Jesus: in fact, thay can equally be seen as having more in common with the stories of Mary's own upbringing and the importance of her mother St Anne (Weinstein and Bell 1986, 23). Gresford is the only Welsh church with a full sequence of illustrations from the Life of St Anne. Fragments of a similar sequence survive at Hope, recognisable in most cases only by their inscriptions. A little of the scene of Joachim in the Wilderness can be identified, and most of Anne in the Garden. The layout of the picture is totally different from Gresford's, but the crucial image of the woman at her prayer-desk remains. Elsewhere, there is the possibility that the beautifully-delineated head of a female saint at Tremeirchion (Flint) is part of the scene of Anne

19

Images of Piety teaching Mary to read (by comparison with the more famous version at All Saints' North Street in York: for a reproduction of this with the Tremeirchion fragment see Lewis 1970 pl. 6-7). One of the paintings on the canopy of honour in the south nave at Llaneilian-yn-Rhos (Denb) has also been identified as St Anne with the Virgin (Hirst 1999). The Tremeirchion fragment represents Anne exclusively in the context of the early life of her daughter, though it may originally have been part of a fuller narrative sequence. At Llaneilian, only the depiction of St Anne teaching the Virgin to read can be identified with certainty, but there are two panels accompanying it which are so faded as to be all but indecipherable. One of them includes a figure which is almost certainly an angel and could be the promise of Mary's birth to either Anne or Joachim. It is therefore possible that here, as at Gresford and Hope, we have an emphasis on Christ's matrilineal descent to balance the more patrilinear emphasis in the Tree of Jesse. Like the most famous Welsh image of Mary at Penrhys, the best-known (and probably most venerated) image of Anne was destroyed at the Reformation. This was the depiction (medium unfortunately unknown) of the Holy Family with St Anne and St Joachim in the cathedral church at St David's (Williams, G., 1976, 493) This is particularly unfortunate as it was the only known Welsh example of a genre well known elsewhere, the Holy Kindred. This was in origin an alternative, matrilineal trinity - St Anne, the Virgin Mary and Christ. The St David's version, however, incorporated Joachim as well, possibly in a reference to the tradition that it was through him that Mary was descended from the house of David. Sheingorn, however, notes the increased emphasis on male figures in later depictions of the Holy Kindred and suggests that they reflect the renegotiation of its iconography in the interests of a more male-dominated view of the family (Ashley and Sheingorn 1990, 184-94). Even at Gresford and Hope, there are none of the details of the more extravagant versions of the life of St Anne the stories of her equally-virtuous mother Emerentiana, her pious father Stollanus and her sister Esmeria (mother of Elizabeth and grandmother of John the Baptist). These appear late in the development of the apocryphal Lives, at the end of the fifteenth century. (Mulder-Bakker 1995, 4445) James de Voragine's Golden Legend, translated into Welsh in the late fifteenth century, had an account of the descent of Anne from the priestly line of Levi (providing an alternative genealogy to that of Joseph from the royal house of David) and the story of Anne's three marriages and her three daughters. Anne was represented as having had two other daughters by successive husbands - Mary Salome, the traditional mother of the apostles James the Greater and John, and Mary Cleophas, mother of James the Less, Joses, Simon and Jude. This part of the story is reflected in Welsh poetry to St Anne and the Virgin but not in visual imagery from Wales, though it is prominent in late medieval depictions elsewhere in Europe, (Morrice 1908 22-3; Johnston 1988, 110; Cartwright 1999, 27; Ashley and Sheingorn 1990, 11-47, 169-98). Mary the wife of Cleopas was described by St John as the sister of Christ's mother and accompanied her at the crucifixion (John 19, 25) but the elaboration of her story is apocryphal.

The story of Ann's multiple marriages almost certainly sprang from the need to reconcile the doctrine of Mary's permanent virginity with the clear Biblical references to her sons: they were presented as nephews, cousins rather than brothers to Jesus. However, it was then elaborated in a way which - like the stories around Anne's conception of Mary - approximated the values and experiences of domesticity and motherhood to those of the Incarnation. The stories of the three marriages were nevertheless difficult to reconcile with the tradition of her age at Mary's birth and the doctrine of the Immaculate Conception. Less emphasis was therefore placed on this aspect of the legend as teaching on Mary's immaculate conception gained in popularity. (Atkinson 1991, 160) As a non-biblical, 'constructed' story, the life of St Anne could be written and overwritten to serve contesting interpretations (Ashley and Sheingorn 1990, 4-6). There are no surviving visual depictions in Wales of this aspect of the story, but it is perhaps implicit in the location of the two St Anne sequences, at Gresford and Hope. These two churches, which contain the fullest accounts of Anne's life as well as the most powerful expressions of the status of the Virgin Mary, were built under the influence of that remarkable woman Margaret Beaufort, wife of Thomas Stanley, Earl of Derby. Margaret Beaufort was the only daughter and heiress of John Beaufort, duke of Somerset, and grand-daughter of John Beaufort, eldest of the illegitimate sons of John of Gaunt and Katherine Swynford. The children were legitimized after John of Gaunt and Katherine's marriage but with the rider that their issue should not be considered heirs to the throne. Born in 1443, Margaret was married as a child to John de la Pole, son and heir of Henry Vi's chief minister William de la Pole, later duke of Suffolk. The marriage was annulled shortly after William's banishment and murder in 1450, and by 1455 Margaret had been married to Henry Vi's half-brother Edmund Tudor. It was through her, and not through Edmund's even more tenuous royal connections, that their son Henry VII acquired his debatable claim to the throne. After Edmund's death she married Henry Stafford, then Thomas Stanley, from whom her influence in north Wales came (Griffiths and Thomas 1985, 30, 35-7). Devout and strong-minded, thrice married in adulthood ( she can barely have remembered her first, annulled marriage), she eventually took a vow of chastity some five years before Thomas Stanley's death (Jones and Underwood 1992, 153-4). Margaret Beaufort has been credited with having inspired the restoration and rebuilding of a number of churches on or associated with the Stanley estates in north Wales, including Gresford, Hope and Mold, as well as with the new building programme at St Winifred's Well (Hubbard 1994, 32-4, though Jones and Underwood are more sceptical about the level of her involvement: 1992, 150). With her personal history, this would suggest her as an appropriate person to be honoured by stained glass telling the story of the thrice-married Anne. Her royal descent ties her in with Mulder-Bakker's theory (pp 22-3) about the royal origins of the image of the holy mother: and her career as a woman who had been repeatedly treated as a pawn in the power struggles of fifteenth-century England

20

Images of motherhood: St Anne and the married saints

but who had triumphed over arranged and loveless marriages to become an emblem of power and piety has parallels in the lives of many of the aristocratic married saints of later medieval Europe. The St Anne sequence at Gresford was actually given by John ap Madoc Fychan in 1498 (he is depicted with his wife and children at the bottom of the window) but could have been intended as a tribute to Margaret Beaufort's initiative in rebuilding the church. The great east window at Gresford with its association of the Virgin Mary and the Trinity was given by her husband Thomas Stanley (Lewis 1970, 7). References linking Margaret Beaufort with the Holy Kindred would also of course make some quite powerful political points about her son Henry VII, himself born under unusual circumstances after the death of his father and regarded by many Welsh people as mah darogan, a son of prophecy and a secular saviour of his people. The emphasis on the presence of Joachim in the scene of the Birth of the Virgin (plate 12b) may reflect the increased importance of sacred fathers in the later iconography of the Holy Kinship noted by Sheingorn (Ashley and Sheingorn 1990, 184-94) but may also be a similarly politically-charged reference to one of Margaret's husbands - but to which one?

about them has survived. In other words, the saints whose traditions and vitae survive are those who could be conformed to the model of the chaste marriage. There is one other possible example of a visual depiction of a married saint in Wales: and this is a particularly interesting depiction as it relates to one of the saints of the later medieval period. Welsh religious art largely ignores the developments in concepts of sanctity in the medieval church, preferring to remain with the Biblical and postbiblical saints and the leaders of the early medieval Welsh church. However, the female saint bearing a book and a staff on the canopy of honour over the high altar at Gyffin (Caerns) has traditionally been identified as St Brigid of Sweden. Born in 1302 or 1303, she was forced to set aside an early inclination towards the religious life and was married to a rich young nobleman. They lived together happily and she bore him eight children while running a small hospital and caring for the poor in the neighbourhood of her home. On her husband's death she gave up much of her property and founded a religious order of considerable asceticism and high spiritual standards (N ieuwland 1995, 297-329). The painting on the Gyffin canopy of honour is badly faded and has been ruthlessly overpainted: it is therefore impossible to be certain about its original iconography. It has even been suggested (Hughes and North 1924, 67) that St Brigid of Sweden has here been confused with her Welsh/Irish namesake, herself a conflation of traditions regarding two or three separate saints (below, 38). St Brigid of Sweden would however be a suitable saint for a Eucharistic context. She was best known in Wales for a collection of prayers attributed to her, the pymtheg gweddi or 'Fifteen Oes', fifteen prayers to Christ and his wounds. These were in fact English in origin but probably written in the devotional world of the English Brigittines of Syon (Duffy 1992, 249. They were well known in Wales: translations survive in several manuscripts (Roberts 19546, 254-68). Iorwerth Fynglwyd's poem to St Brigid (a poem which was ostensibly written to the Welsh/Irish Brigid but which, whether deliberately or accidentally, conflates her with St Brigid of Sweden) refers to the 'fifteen prayers', but only in passing. The implication of this oblique reference is surely that they were expected to be well known to the poem's hearers and should need no explanation. The prayers are mainly addressed to Christ as the merciful saviour, and their imagery focusses on the paradoxical contrasts between his human sufferings and his divine powers (Duffy 1992, 249-56). However, the last petition is replete with eucharistic imagery, more emphatic in the surviving Welsh translations than in the Latin equivalent (Roberts 1954-6, 263-4):

The other married saints There are few other references to married saints in surviving Welsh religious art. Glynne (1884, 173) recorded a St Elizabeth in stained glass at Llanfair Dyffryn Clwyd (Denb ), but the glass has now vanished. Further identification is thus impossible. She could have been Elizabeth the mother of John the Baptist, who also appears in the Visitation scenes at Gresford and Hope. This would make her an interesting addition to the wider Holy Family and the tally of married and maternal saints. Alternatively, she might have been Elizabeth of Hungary, the devout and charitable wife of Ludwig of Thuringia, who entered the religious life under Franciscan influence after her husband's death; or any one of the many other medieval St Elizabeths, some of them noted for their piety in the world, some (like Elizabeth of Schonau) ascetic visionaries. Reading between the lines of the vitae and traditions of some of the Welsh saints, we can still see traces of an early devotion to married female saints who were the wives and parents of saints - Gwladus the wife of Gwynllyw and mother of Cadoc, Canna the mother of Crallo, Non the mother of David. By the time these vitae were written down, however, in the eleventh and twelfth centuries, they had been reconfigured to privilege chastity inside as well as outside marriage. According to the version of her life in BL Cotton Vespasian xiv, Gwladus and her husband Gwynllyw were persuaded by their more famous son to live apart and take vows of chastity (Wade-Evans 1944, 172-81). Non's marriage to Sanctus, king of Dyfed, was rewritten as a story of rape (James 1967, 1-4). The other married female saints in the Welsh hagiographic and iconographic tradition were women like Canna, the mothers and wives of saints, but little or no information

0 lesu, y wir winwydhen, ffrwythlonaf o daeoni, copha di y cyflawnder elhyngedigaeth lhifeiriaint o waet, yr hwnn oedh yn rhedec o'th weiliau di megys y rhet y gwin o'r bagadau, yr amser yr oedhut ti yn trauaelu ar yr hoelion ar y Groes. Bit y'th gof di adel brathu dy ystlys di a gwaew y marchoc dalh hyt pann holhtes dy galonn di a gelhwng ffrwt o waed drosom ni a dwfr yn ehelaeth ...

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Images of Piety fragmentary Gospel of Mary) which presented Mary Magdalen as a prophetic church leader (King 1998, 21-41 ). The identification of Mary as the apostolorum apostola has its roots in the accounts of the Resurrection in the gospels of Mark and John in which Mary Magdalen is named as the woman who announces the news of Christ's resurrection to the other apostles. The apocryphal gospels and subsequent legends (given in their fullest form in the Golden Legend and sumarised in Buchedd Mair Fad/en) embroidered on this, representing Mary Magdalen as present at Pentecost and receiving the gifts of the Spirit then becoming an ascetic and a missionary to southern Gaul (Jansen 1998, 57-96; Jones, D.J., 1929). The conclusions which could be drawn from this were ambivalent and the subject of controversy. Jansen claims Mary Magdalen's status as a preacher and doctor of the church was a late medieval commonplace, and points out that she and the Virgin Mary were the only female saints on whose feasts the Creed was sung. Mirk's sermon in the Festial (203-8) describes her announcement of the Resurrection, her time as a preacher in Gaul and her retirement into ascetic contemplation in the wilderness. Her time as a preacher forms the bulk of the sermon, though most of this is in fact taken up with an account of a miracle she worked, raising from the dead the wife of a local chieftain who had died in childbirth. However, at the same time that sermons based on de V oragine were praising Mary's apostolate, other sermons attacked women who dared to preach and teach even in the seclusion of the convent. This standpoint too was based partly on the Biblical story of Mary Magdalen. It was Ambrose who interpreted Christ's command to Mary not to touch him as meaning that women should not touch the things which pertained to the church (Jansen 1998, 57-96). It was not a universally accepted argument: in the same book, Rusconi discusses several late medieval female saints who preached and argued doctrine, publicly as well as in the convent (Rusconi 1998, 173-195). Mirk in the Festial (204) rejects the basis of Ambrose's argument, saying (against the Biblical evidence) that Christ 'suffyrd her to towch hym and kys hys fete'. Jane Cartwright's work in progress on the Welsh prose lives of saints including Mary Magdalene should enable us to arrive at a clearer idea of how a late medieval Welsh congregation would have viewed and interpreted these visual images in the light of her status as preacher and missionary. The focus of the Welsh Buchedd Mair Fad/en is on the post-Ascension period of her life, but places equal emphasis on her time as a missionary and her years of ascetic withdrawal in the desert. However, the tradition that Mary Magdalen abased herself because she was a repentant prostitute, or at least an unchaste woman, certainly made available a powerful image of repentance, forgiveness and subsequent holiness. It could also be presented as part of the Biblical and apocryphal tradition: it was precisely because Mary Magdalen had sinned that she was called to the apostolic life. As Christ himself said, he had not come to call the righteous but sinners to repentance (Matthew 9, 13). The conclusion of Mirk's sermon is a standard call to repentance as Mary Magdalene herself has repented, and a reminder of her comfort for sinners.

(0 Jesus, true vine, most fruitful of goodness, remember the fullness of absolution from the outpouring of your blood, which flowed from your wounds as wine flows from a cluster of grapes when you laboured on the nails of the cross. Remember how you allowed your side to be pierced by the spear of the blind knight until your heart was split and poured a stream of blood on us, and water in abundance ...)

The Benedictine nuns of Usk had a chapel dedicated to another married saint, Radegund of Poitiers. Radegund was a potentially intriguing choice for a community of enclosed nuns. After a forced (and possibly polygamous) marriage to the Frankish king Clovis she was released by her husband to found a religious community of considerable austerity (for details see Nie 1995, 139-51; for translations of the Lives of St Radegund see Jo Ann McNamara 1992, 60-105). We have no evidence of visual depictions of her but it is more than likely that the chapel would have had a statue of her. But what aspect of her long and eventful life it depicted - the Christian queen, the enclosed ascetic or the influential mother of a religious community - we have no way of knowing. Mary Magdalene and the tradition of the repentant whore

There is even less evidence in the visual imagery in Welsh churches of devotion to the religious side of the third aspect of medieval womanhood. Maidens and mothers could obviously be holy: but the apocryphal tales about Mary Magdalen made sanctity available even to the whore. Later medieval tradition identified Mary of Bethany, Mary the sister of Martha, who sat at Christ's feet and heard his words, later anointed him with spikenard and wiped his feet with her hair (Luke 10.39; Mark 14.3, John 11.2, 12.3) with the Mary Magdalene from whom Christ cast out seven devils (Luke 8.2) and who who accompanied the Virgin Mary and Mary Cleophas at the Crucifixion and first saw Christ after the Resurrection. She was in tum identified with the anonymous penitent woman who, in an alternative version of the anointing story in an earlier chapter of Luke's Gospel, anointed Christ at the house of Simon the Pharisee and washed his feet with her tears (7.37-50). She was forgiven 'because she loved much', and from this stemmed the assumption that her sins were of a sexual nature. A number of different versions of the story embroidered on this conflation and attempted to reconcile its inherent contradictions (Mulder-Bakker 1995, 247-51). Part of the medieval tradition was that Mary was betrothed to St John the Evangelist and that it was at their wedding feast that Christ performed his first miracle, turning water into wine. However, according to this tradition, John then decided to follow Christ and to live in chastity, and it was this which drove Mary to a life of immorality (Mulder-Bakker 1995, 248). The tradition of Mary's betrothal to John appears in the surviving texts of the Welsh Buchedd Mair Fad/en (Jones, D.J., 1929), though the episode at the wedding feast is not specifically mentioned. This tradition stood in complete contrast with the biblical and apocryphal tradition (exemplified most fully in the 22

Images of motherhood: St Anne and the married saints

The typical iconography of Mary Magdalen with her jar of ointment represents her most obviously as a penitent. However, it is yet another of the complex and multivalent images of medieval religious art and can also be read as a reference to her importance as the apostolorum apostola. It was as a penitent that she anointed Christ with the precious ointment and wept over his feet: but it was also with sweet spices that she came to anoint his dead body and learned of the resurrection. She appears with the jar of spikenard in a thirteenth-century wall painting in a privileged position on the north wall of the chancel at Llantwit Major (Glam: plate 58b), next to a fragmentary painting of the Virgin Mary. Her presence here may indicate the location of a temporary Easter sepulchre. On the panels of the canopy of honour at Gyffin (Caerns) she accompanies the Virgin Mary, Bridget and another unidentified female saint, together with an assortment of apostles and the emblems of the Evangelists. Her position near the altar may reflect her presence at the Crucifixion but is also a reference to her status as a principal witness to the Christian faith. She is a particularly appropriate saint for a canopy of honour because of her involvement in the Eucharistic prefiguring of the miracle at her wedding and the Eucharistic implications of her close physical contact with Christ's body. One other possible medieval Welsh depiction of Mary Magdalene has survived, making her one of the most popular saints in the surviving visual record. The delicately- featured head of a young female saint in the north window of the chancel at Treuddyn (Flint) is remarkably like the Mary Magdalene at Grappenhall (Cheshire) and may be identified with her. However, Mostyn Lewis's identification of the feet in the north light of the east window at Llanllugan as those of Mary Magdalen is convincingly disproved by John Morgan-Guy, who has identified this figure as John the Baptist in his camel-skin, and the head between the feet as the camel's head. (Gray and Morgan-Guy forthcoming) The nuns of Usk (Mon) had a chapel dedicated to Mary Magdalene as well as the chapel of St Radegund. This was another interesting choice of saint for a community of religious women. Giselle de Nie (1995, 137-8) suggests that the two saints were linked, that Radegund modelled her ascetic and penitential practices on Mary Magdalene and Mary's alter ego ThaYs, another repentant whore whose life was probably a pious invention based on Mary's. There was an order of nuns called the 'Magdalenes', originally intended as an order for reformed prostitutes but eventually recruited from other women as well and probably confined to the area around Cologne (June Mecham, pers. comm.: see the discussion on the medieval religion mailbase, http://www.mailbase.ac.uk /lists/medieval-religion/ 1999-11). The statue of Mary Magdalene in the chapel at U sk achieved some fame as an object of pilgrimage. It was to this statue that the anonymous early sixteenth-century poem Mair fadlen mawr yw dwrtais was written. Cast in the form of a dialogue between the pilgrim and the statue, it advises the would-be penitent to be just and charitable, and to pray

regularly (Jones 1912, 318-19). Unfortunately, it offers no hint as to the appearance of the statue.

Chastity, motherhood sanctity

and the Welsh concept of

Apart from these few images - Anne the mother, Brigid and Radegund the mothers-turned-nuns, Mary Magdalene the repentant whore - the visual image of female sanctity in Wales is one of maidenhood. There were a number of Welsh versions of the vita of Mary Magdalene, all based on the Golden Legend account (Williams 1973, 249), but her popularity is not reflected in the surviving visual evidence. The spatial locations of these images within the churches, and the spatiality of other sites associated with nonvirginal saints, may help us to interpret attitudes towards them. Anne appears mainly in stained glass, which (unfortunately for our purposes) can be relocated. It seems likely, though, that the scenes from her life in the stained glass at Gresford are in or near their original position, in the Lady Chapel to the north of the chancel. (See e.g. Gilchrist 1994, 128-43 for a discussion of gendered space and the location of Lady Chapels within churches.) She and Mary Magdalen are both depicted in privileged positions in wall and ceiling paintings, on the canopies of honour at Llanelian-yn-Rhos and Gyffin and on the north wall of the chancel at Llantwit Major (plate 58b). However, if we look at separate buildings dedicated to these saints, there is a sense in which they are regarded as ways to sanctity rather than as the locus of sanctity itself. At the Cistercian abbey of Tintern in the Wye valley (Mon), it was the gatehouse chapel which was dedicated to St Anne and presumably contained her image. The two chapels at U sk appear to have been buildings separate from the priory church, which was dedicated to the Virgin Mary and shared with the townspeople. St Radegund's Chapel was described by Adam of Usk in 1404 as being 'within the enclosure of the monastery'. Mein assumes (2000, 701) that the chapel of St Mary Magdalene was inside the public part of the church, but there is no reference to it in the 1547 survey of chantries and other endowments. Like the chapel of St Radegund, it is described separately from the parish church in both Valor Ecclesiasticus and the postDissolution accounts, and both had their own separate endowments - including, in the case of St Radegund's Chapel, the tithes of apples and pears of the parish of U sk. The nuns also received a small income from offerings to the two chapels, suggesting that they were readily accessible to the public. Though archaeological investigation has so far failed to locate the two chapels, we have no post-Dissolution records of chapel structures elsewhere in the town, and it seems likely that both were free-standing buildings within the outer enclosure of the priory. Mein (2000, 68-72) suggests that the chapel of St Radegund may have been the structure projecting from the west end of the nave which is shown in Richard Colt Hoare' s sketch of the priory church in 1799. This structure

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Images of Piety was demolished during the Victorian rebuilding of the church. As with the chapel of St Anne at Tintern, therefore, these dedications to two non-virginal saints, one a reluctant wife, the other a repentant prostitute, were in a secondary position, in the most secularised and accessible area of the priory and in an area through which one had to pass in order to reach the inner, more holy areas such as the church and the nuns' own quarters. The church had three chantry foundations, presumably funded by the townspeople who used the nave as their parish church. One was named after its founder; the others were dedicated to St Nicholas and the Holy Trinity. There was also at least one carving of the Virgin Mary (above p 14) and according to William of Worcester a relic of St Elvetha, one of the martyred virgin daughters of Brychan Brycheiniog (Harvey 1969, 155; Cartwright 1999, 135). There had been at one time a chantry dedicated to Mary Magdalene in Goldcliff (Mon), but it disappeared between the making of the Valor Ecclesiasticus and the 1547 survey of chantry lands in the county. Here again, it seems that the married saints and holy women are valued as ways to a higher form of sanctity: as in the Welsh prose narrative Gwrthyeu e Wynvydedic Veir, the 'Miracles of the Virgin Mary', in which the legend of another repentant and sanctified prostitute, Mary of Egypt, is subsumed into an account of miracles worked by statues of the Virgin (Mittendorf, 1996). In the visual tradition, married saints and holy women are valued, but not as highly as virgins and martyrs. In a sensitive analysis of attitudes to the religious life for women in medieval Wales (1997, 20-48), Jane Cartwright identifies a substantial corpus of erotic poetry in Welsh and directed at nuns. Some of this poetry is surprisingly explicit to modern eyes and seems to have been exclusive to Wales. In the Welsh bardic tradition, the veil and the vow of chastity are seen as something between a challenge and a come-on. Praise poems and elegies to women are almost exclusively directed to married women, and it is in the domestic context that they are praised for their Christian lives. Poems to Mabli ferch Gwilym, Gwladus ferch Syr Dafydd Garn and Annes of Caerleon, all wives of leading Welsh landowners, stress their piety, charity and hospitality. Poetic evidence suggests that even chastity was

most highly valued in a domestic context, as the behaviour appropriate to a widow. Elegies to Nest, wife of Si6n Stradling of Westplas, and Gwenllian ferch Rhys describe both as chaste in terms which suggest they both retired to nunneries in widowhood (Cartwright 1997, 34-5). Cartwright suggests that this lack of respect for chastity pervaded Welsh culture and was responsible for the lack of religious houses for women in medieval Wales. However, it has to be said that this is yet another area in which the evidence of visual culture is out of alignment with the literary evidence. The iconology of sanctity in medieval Wales concentrates almost exclusively on the virgin saints of the early church, and apart from the evidence of devotion to St Anne and Mary Magdalene there are few references to married saints. We can only conjecture why there is this divergence between literary and artistic evidence. The reason may be purely practical and secular, and yet another example of the dangers of relying on poets as a guide to general or 'popular'opinion. As Jane Cartwright's poetic references imply (1997, 20-48), bards were more likely to praise women who provided hospitality for travelling poets, and they praise them for secular virtues precisely because it is those virtues which are of benefit to the bardic community. We have to be aware in interpreting these images of married saints, holy motherhood, female saints with a past, of the tension between the images of womanhood and motherhood which women construct for themselves and the images which men construct for us. Caroline Bynum has reminded us that it is largely the male mystics who exhibit devotion to the Virgin Mary and equate the female, nurturing side of Christ's identity with meekness and compassion. Women are as likely to remember that Christ as mother must also discipline and control his children. (Bynum 1982, 110-169; 1990, 262-8). It was largely male hagiographers who constructed the image of the sacrificial, breast-feeding mother. The evident tension between the bardic image of the good woman - amorous in youth, charitable and hospitable in maturity - and the iconography of female piety, with its emphasis on austerity, celibacy and martyrdom, is just one more reminder that medieval images of female sanctity, like images of womanhood itself, are complex and multivalent.

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ChapterThree Images of sanctity: Wales and the internationaltradition The conflict - or at least the profound difference of emphasis - between the surviving literary and visual sources is further apparent when we look at the representation of the other saints of the international tradition. Medieval Wales has traditionally been regarded as a land particularly devoted to the saints. In his database of Welsh church dedications, Graham Jones (in progress) lists about 500 Welsh saints with church, chapel or well dedications. Settlement names, church dedications and literary evidence also testify to the popularity of the great saints of the international Christian church, of St Martin and St Hilary, St Margaret and St Catherine. It is therefore surprising to say the least to find so few of this cloud of witnesses in the surviving visual evidence. We are of course limited to what has survived, and to the documentary evidence describing what has been lost. There must have been figures of the saints in many of the churches dedicated to them, and in chapels attached to holy wells. Some of the surviving churchyard crosses have figures of saints, most of them battered beyond recognition. But by contrast with Duffy's findings (1990, 175-9) for East Anglia and the West Country, where he counted 130 screens with figures of over 40 saints (and a lot more than that if we count Ursula and her 11,000 virgins), virtually all that survives for Wales is a restricted list of saints depicted in stained glass in the north and a few wall paintings and carvings in the south. Some of the reasons why the Welsh evidence has been particularly vulnerable to destruction and loss are discussed below, in chapter 8. There may also be specific reasons why evidence for visual depiction of the saints is so scanty in Wales. Duffy found his saints on the panels of rood screens. Welsh rood screens were normally intricately carved, with traceried panels which left little room for painting. There are traces of a series of painted panels depicting the Apostles at Mwnt (Cards: Crossley and Ridgway 1946, 55-6), and local tradition at Pennant Melangell suggested that the traces of paint on the rood screen panels there were another series of the Apostles (Hancock 1879, 63-4; Ridgway 1994, 134). Lewis (1833 vol 2: unpaginated) recorded a tradition that the screen at Llanelian (Ang) had paintings of the Apostles as well as the dedicatory saint Elian but claimed that they were paid for by the parishioners in 'the middle of the seventeenth century'. The exact middle of the century was of all times since the Reformation the most unlikely for the painting of a screen, though it could possibly have been done either during the Laudian period or after the Restoration. The western parapet of the screen at Llaneilian-yn-Rhos (Denb) still has paintings of the legend of St Hubert with the Last Judgement, but these are rare survivals. Llaneilian-ynRhos also has a canopy of honour painted with scenes from the life of the Virgin Mary. This may have been a

characteristic local form of decoration, as the canopy at nearby Gyffin (Caerns) has figures of saints, apostles and evangelists. However, no other examples have survived. It is of course likely that the rood screens would have been further embellished with carvings of saints, but these were too easy to detach and destroy. Lewis's Topographical Dictionary of Wales (1833: vol 2, unpaginated) recorded a local tradition that the twelve niches on the rood screen at Llanfilo (Bree) were for statues of the Apostles. Local tradition also suggested that the niches on the reredos at Llantwit Major (Glam) also held statues of the Apostles (Orrin 1988, 243). Some of the English saints also feature in cycles of wallpaintings. Few of these have survived in Wales. A lengthy period of underfunding and neglect in the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries was followed by large-scale church rebuilding in the nineteenth. Wall paintings were of all forms of art the most vulnerable to this. We have one example, at Bangor-on-Dee (Flint), where a fresco of the dedicatory saint of the church, Dunawd, is said to have been moved from the chancel to the south wall of the nave in the course of restoration (Thomas 1874, 800). The process may have caused irretrievable damage; the fresco is no longer there. The bulk of our evidence will therefore be drawn from the stained glass which survives in more or less fragmented form in the north. The advantage of this is that stained glass is portable and easier to rescue than (for example) a wall-painting or a structural carving. We can assume with some confidence that the parishioners of sixteenth- and seventeenth-century Wales saved what was most important to them (though we should perhaps be less confident in assuming that what was most important in the seventeenth century was also what was most important in the fifteenth). If saints were more likely to be depicted in carvings and in paint on wall or wood rather than paint and stain on glass, we will still risk underestimating their importance in the original corpus of evidence. We should however be on safer ground in looking at the proportion of saints of different types. Saints from the biblical tradition In spite of the wealth of literary evidence for devotion to the Welsh saints, by far the most frequently depicted saints are the Biblical and parabiblical saints - Christ's biblical and apocryphal family, the apostles and related saints like Mary Magdalene - and after these the helper saints and martyrs of the Roman calendar. There is a virtually complete absence of imagery drawn from the Old Testament. At Llanllugan (Mont), in a church which is believed to have been the abbey church of a small community of Cistercian nuns but to have been used (in

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Images of Piety defiance of normal Cistercian practice) by the local community as well (Gray and Morgan-Guy, forthcoming), a patchwork of medieval stained glass now in the east window has several fragments of a windowed tower which could well have been the Tower of Babel. At Gresford, in the north wall of the Lady Chapel, the figure of a boy with a bundle of sticks and a fragmentary inscription has been identified as the Sacrifice of Isaac. This, though an image drawn from the Old Testament, was one of the types of the Crucifixion and must be read in that light. Old Testment figures also appear in subordinate roles in the many representations of the Tree of Jesse and in the Te Deum windows at Gresford and Hope. Like the Isaac story, the individual figures in the Jesse tree (and by extension in the Te Deum) are a way of relating the Old Testament to the New (Ayers 1996, 266). Like the Isaac story, therefore, they must be read in the light of the Incarnation and Crucifixion. In both, the prophets appear as foretellers of Christ's life and death. Of the kings, both David and Solomon are frequently regarded as prefiguring Christ, and Solomon is normally shown (as at Diserth and Llanrhaiadr) holding a model of his temple, the forerunner of the church established by Christ. The kings in the Jesse tree also testify to the royalty as well as the humanity of the figure of Christ, whose earthly pedigree the tree sets out. The significance of the frequent depictions of the Evangelists and the linking of the Apostles with the Creed will be discussed in chapter 7. However, apostles and other New Testament figures do appear in other contexts. Fragments of sets of the Apostles appear in stained glass at Whitchurch, near Denbigh, and in the chapel at Trevor Hall (Denbs), apparently without the text of the Creed. Local tradition suggests that the latter came from the Cistercian abbey at Valle Crucis. Poems by Dafydd ap Gwilym and Iolo Goch suggest that painted panels depicting Christ and the apostles were to be found in Welsh churches, though none has survived (Jones, D.S., 1961). As we have seen, local tradition sometimes suggests that niches and traces of paint on rood screens may indicate representations of the apostles rather than other saints, but this may be based on no more compelling evidence than the fact that the screens have 12 niches or panels. Individual apostles are sometimes recognisable, though we can never be certain that these did not once form part of complete sets. Andrew, Peter and James the Great have been identified on the great tower at Wrexham (Denb ), along with Luke, Stephen and several other saints (for a list see Thomas 1903 (3), 300). St Peter is one of the most easily recognisable apostles because of his bushy beard and keys, though it is likely that he was also one of the most popular because of his status as the keeper of the keys of Heaven: porthor cun, 'great gatekeeper', as Iolo Goch describes him. He is depicted in stained glass in a detached panel at Llangystennin (Caerns) and in the tracery of one of the south windows at Gres ford. Here he appears with his fellow apostle St John the Evangelist, St Barbara and two unidentified saints. Peter now appears as one of the flanking figures in the Crucifixion at Cilcain (Flints: plate 6), but his figure is larger than that of the Virgin Mary and St John and it seems likely that he has been brought in

from elsewhere. Glynne (1884, 173) recorded the figure of St Peter in stained glass at Llanfair Dyffryn Clwyd, but this has since disappeared. St John the Evangelist is frequently depicted as an attendant figure at the Crucifixion and would have appeared on most of the rood screens. He appears twice on the canopy of honour over the high altar at Gyffin (Caerns), once represented by his emblem, the eagle, and once carrying his identifying device, a chalice, referring to the legend that at Ephesus he survived drinking from a cup poisoned with snake venom (Duchet-Suchaux and Pastoureau 1994, 197). The canopy at Gyffin has the emblems of all the evangelists and a selection of apostles with the instruments of their martyrdoms and other identifying devices. St Philip appears with his basket, St Jude with a boat, St James the Great with his pilgrim's staff and St James the Less with a club or staff and a book. (This refers to the tradition ascribing the authorship of the Epistle of St James to James the Less and his identification as James the brother of Jesus and bishop of Jerusalem. According to the account in the Golden Legend he was clubbed to death.) St Peter has his keys, St Andrew the saltire cross on which he was martyred. St Paul is included in the group, possibly as an honourary apostle, possibly because of the authority of his contribution to the scriptural canon. He carries his identifying device, the sword which was the instrument of his martyrdom. However, other significations could be attributed to the sword by medieval commentators. Mirk described Paul's sword as 'the sword of confession' which could cut away 'the chains of deadly sin' The sword is thus an image of Christ's mercy for sinners as reflected in the act of confession (Erbe 1905, 187: I am grateful to Carolyn Muessig and Miriam Gill for this reference). The sword can also refer to his status as a scriptural writer, and. in particular to his description of the whole armour of God 'and the sword of the Spirit which is the word of God' (Ephesians 6, 17: I owe much of the material in the previous sentences to discussions on the medieval-religion mailbase, archived at www. mailbase.ac.uk/lists/medievalreligion/ 1999-08/htm and www.mailbase.ac. uk/lists/medieval-religion/2000-08/htm). The emblems of the evangelists are flanked by the Virgin Mary (the dedicatory saint of the church), Mary Magdalene, St Brigid with her staff and book, and another female saint. The presence of this group of female saints on the altar canopy offers some support for Bynum's suggestion (1987, 81) that female saints are particularly associated with the eucharist. The Virgin Mary, Mary Magdalene and Brigid are all particularly appropriate for a eucharistic context. However, the main emphasis is on the Biblical saints and biblical authority. The depiction of the apostles on rood screens and canopies of honour does have eucharistic implications: it brings to mind the Communion of the Apostles of Byzantine iconography, in which Christ appears behind a canopied altar distributing bread and wine to the apostles who are lined up on either side (I am grateful to Jim Bugslag for this reference). James the Great, patron saint of pilgrims, appears with both a walker's scrip and a closed book in his hands at Llandysilio (Denb) and with pilgrim's staff and open book

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Images of sanctity: Wales and the international tradition

in the company of St Lawrence, St Catherine (or St Winifred) and an unidentified episcopal saint at Llanasa (Flint). A sketch of this window in 1825 shows the four figures flanking the Crucifixion, and with the Instruments of the Passion over their heads. The panels have now been divided, with the Crucifixion placed in the south nave and and saints in the north nave. If the pre-1825 arrangement is to be trusted, this window represents James not so much as an apostle but as one of the earliest martyrs of the heroic age of the church and one of those whose sufferings and death reflect and echo the sufferings of Christ himself.

St Catherine and the female virgin martyrs Like Christopher, St Catherine is one of the easier saints to recognise in the visual evidence because of her identifying emblem, the wheel on which her persecutors tried to torture her. As well as being one of the leading martyrs of early Christian tradition, Catherine of Alexandria is one of the learned saints of the church. According to the traditional narrative, found in the Welsh Buchedd Katrin (Williams, J.E.C., 1944, 1973) as well as in the Golden Legend, she was of royal birth. Sent to Alexandria to sacrifice to the gods, she tried instead to persuade the Emperor Maximinus to convert to Christianity. Unable to refute her himself, Maximinus summoned numerous scholars to argue with her but she emerged from the debate victorious. Several of her adversaries, conquered by her eloquence, declared themselves Christians and were at once put to death. Maximinus offered to make her his mistress if she would renounce her faith but she refused. Furious, Maximinus had Catherine scourged and then imprisoned. In prison, she was fed by a dove from heaven and succeeded in converting the empress and the commander of the army. Maximinus had a spiked wheel built to torture her to death but it was destroyed by an angel. Maximinus then had the empress tortured to death and offered to marry Catherine; not surprisingly, she refused again. Finally, he had her beheaded and angels carried her body to Mount Sinai where later a church and monastery were built in her honour. A fourteenth-century wall painting of Catherine with her instruments of martyrdom, the wheel on which she was to have been broken and the sword with which she was decapitated, has been rescued from the derelict church at Llandeilo Talybont (Glam) and is now in the Museum of Welsh Life at St Fagans. She appears in stained glass at Llangystennin (Caerns), at Gresford (plate 20a), Llandymog (plate 36b) and Llansanffraid Glan Conwy (Denbs), and in Old Radnor (plate 60b). Glynne (1884, 173) recorded a St Catherine in the stained glass at Llanfair Dyffryn Clwyd (Denbs) but it has since disappeared. At Tremeirchion (Flint), all that remains of her is her wheel. However, the sword-bearing figure in stained glass at Llanasa (Flint) captioned 'Catherine' is almost certainly the Welsh St Winifred. Winifred was beheaded by a young suitor but restored to life by her uncle, St Beuno. Her nearmartyrdom was commemorated for the rest of her life by the scar which remained around her neck - white according to Buchedd Gwenfrewi, red according to Tudur Aled (Henken 1987, 144-5). This scar can be clearly seen on the Llanasa figure. The caption is more modern than the glass itself and is probably the work of Victorian restorers: there is no caption in an 1825 drawing of the window, and the panels have been moved and their arrangement changed since the drawing was made (Lewis 1970, 52-3 and plate 53). At Llangystennin (Caerns), Catherine appears as part of an apparently random and probably decontextualised series of saints accompanying a depiction of the Image of Pity,

St Christopher After the apostles and evangelists, the saints who appear more frequently than any other are St Christopher and St Catherine of Alexandria. St Christopher's popularity is hardly surprising: the medieval belief was that to see a representation of him guaranteed safety for the day. His picture was therefore placed opposite the south door of many churches, and can still be identified at Llansannor and Llantwit Major (Glam: plate 58a) and Llanynys (Denb). It is not unfortunately possible to be certain about the original location of stained glass depicting Christopher. He now appears in the north wall of the chancel at Dolwyddelan (Caems), the south wall of the chancel at Treuddyn (Flint), the east window at Hope (Flint) and the east window of the Trevor chapel at Gresford (Denb: plate 24). The fragmentary depiction of a large foot and a fish in the east window of the south transept at Penmon (Ang) is probably also a Christopher. However, we know that the window at Hope has been relocated and we can suspect that some of the others may have been moved as well. The location of a figure of St Christopher in stained glass is arguably not as crucial as the location of a wall painting, as it could in theory be seen from outside. Christopher may well be over-represented even in the surviving data: he is one of the easiest non-martyr saints to identify. He is also probably the most familiar of these saints to a modern audience, and the one whose Life is most likely to feature in current anthologies, as it is more of a fairy-tale than a gruesome martyrdom. Offer is a giant (in some of the stories, a giant with the head of a dog, though he is seldom represented thus in surviving visual imagery). He takes a vow to serve the greatest ruler in the world and is eventually persuaded to serve God. This he does by carrying travellers across a river. One night he carries a small child across the river in a violent storm. He is weighed down by the child but eventually reaches the far bank. There the child identifies himself as Christ; the weight is the weight of the sins of the whole world. From thence, the giant is called Christopher, the Christ-bearer. He is almost invariably shown with the Christ-child on his shoulders, walking through the river, eels coiling about his legs and fish swimming past his toes. At Llansannor, all that survives is one of his legs, but the fish make it instantly recognisable.

27

Images of Piety Christ rising from the tomb and displaying his wounds. The other surviving saints are the Apostle Peter, St Nicholas and St George; a depiction of the Virgin Mary with St Michael weighing souls has now disappeared (Lewis 1970, 66-7). At Llansanffraid Olan Conwy (Denb) Catherine appears with John the Baptist and in the lost window at Llanfair Dyffryn Clwyd (also Denb) she was accompanied by one of the many St Elizabeths - possibly Elizabeth mother of John the Baptist rather than Elizabeth of Thuringia or one of the other medieval Elizabeths (though see above, pp 21). At Old Radnor she is now alone. St Catherine is frequently found paired iconographically and in church dedications with St Margaret of Antioch. The two appear on either side of the Virgin and Child on an alabaster panel part of the tomb of Richard Herbert of Coldbrook in the priory church at Abergavenny (plate 3a). The figure of a female saint on the eastern splay of a blocked window in the south aisle at Llandeilo Talybont (Glam) has been tentatively identified as St Margaret spearing the dragon. Parkinson suggests, however, that this painting is of the same date as the Crucifixion sequence, which would make it up to a century later than the painting of St Catherine (Parkinson 1985). The Golden Legend and the Welsh life of St Margaret, Buchedd Fargred (Richards 1939, 1949), both describe Margaret as the daughter of a pagan priest who was converted to Christianity by her nurse. The Roman prefect Olybrius tried to seduce her but she rejected him. Surviving versions of the legend describe in graphic detail the savage beating and tortures he had inflicted on her and her experiences in prison, where the Devil appeared as a dragon and swallowed her. She made the sign of the cross and the dragon burst into pieces, leaving her unscathed. After unsuccessful attempts to have her burned or boiled to death, Olibrius finally had her beheaded. St. Margaret is frequently depicted leading a chained dragon, carrying the cross with which she overcame the devil or standing by a large vessel which recalls the cauldron into which she was plunged. In spite of her heroic defence of her own virginity she was regarded as the patron saint of women in childbirth, her escape from the dragon's belly paralleling the child's escape from the mother's womb. According to later versions of the legend, as she died, she prayed that women who called on her in childbirth should be safe, and a dove came down from heaven and declared that her request had been granted. At Llandyrnog and Gresford (both Denb ), Catherine is associated with other identifiable virgins and martyrs, in groupings which may be significant. In the great Te Deum window above the high altar at Gresford, which originally represented visually and in words the hymn of praise of the whole church to God, she appears in the 'holy company of martyrs' with her fellow virgin martyrs Barbara and Dorothy and two other unidentified figures (plate 20a). It is also possible (and likely from the context) that one of these other figures is intended to be Margaret. The figure has a crown with multifoil projections and carries a cross, which is one of Margaret's emblems. The window was extensively restored by the Victorians but the surviving medieval elements suggest they were reconstructing the

original arrangement rather than reworking it to suit a new schema. St. Barbara was traditionally said to be the daughter of a rich heathen named Dioscorus. She was carefully guarded by her father who kept her shut up in a tower in order to preserve her from the outside world. She was however converted to Christianity. Her father dragged her before the prefect of the province, Martinianus, who had her cruelly tortured and finally condemned her to death by beheading. The father himself carried out the death-sentence, but in punishment for this he was struck by lightning on the way home and his body consumed. This part of the legend made her a popular protector from thunder-storms and fire, and she eventually became the patron saint of artillerymen and miners. Her legend also includes a last prayer, in her case that those who called on her would be guaranteed to receive absolution and the Eucharist at the hour of death. Barbara is usually depicted (as at Gresford) with a model of the tower in which her father imprisoned her; sometimes she also holds a chalice and sacramental wafer. A second representation of Barbara can be found in the tracery of one of the south windows at Gresford, where she is accompanied by the apostles Peter and John and two unidentified saints. She also appears with Catherine and several other saints on the tower at nearby Wrexham (for a list see Thomas 1903 (3), 300). The other identifiable martyr in the Gresford Te Deum window is Dorothy, who was tortured and sentenced to death during the Diocletian persecution. On her way to her execution the pagan lawyer Theophilus said to her in mockery: "Bride of Christ, send me some fruits from your bridegroom's garden." She sent him her headdress, which was miraculously filled with fruit and flowers. Theophilus at once confessed himself a Christian and was himself martyred. Dorothy is represented, as at Gresford, with a basket or wreath of flowers and is regarded as the patron saint of gardeners. However, Gresford's most important female martyr, Apollonia, is depicted not in the Te Deum window but in the east windows of the side chapels. In the Lady Chapel she appears with the four evangelists in the main tracery lights above the panels depicting the life of the Virgin Mary. In the south chapel (plates 24-25) she appears with St Christopher, the Archangel Michael and another female saint, possibly St Sitha, in the panels under the stories of St Anthony and John the Baptist. Apollonia was a deaconess of the church in Alexandria who was martyred during an uprising in the mid-third century. Her teeth were smashed and she was threatened with burning at the stake if she refused to recant, but she herself leaped into the fire. Later versions of the legend had her teeth pulled out rather than smashed, and she is usually depicted (as at Gresford) with a pincers and a tooth. In the two panels at Gresford she also carries a book, closed but in her bare hand. Surviving versions of her story do not describe her explicitly as a learned saint, but her status as a church leader and her stubborn defence of her beliefs may have qualified her in the eyes of late medieval hagiographers. She has been depicted elsewhere with book in hand (in, for example, the Giovanni del Ponte triptych 'The Ascension of St John the Evangelist' in the National Gallery in London). The

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Images of sanctity: Wales and the international tradition

presence of two large stained glass panels depicting Apollonia at Gresford has led some historians to suggest that the famous miracle-working image in the church was not of the Virgin Mary (as Glanmor Williams assumed: 1976, 460, quoting NLW SA/M/21 p 22) but of Apollonia (Lewis 1970, 5-6). The female virgin/martyr saints are perhaps the most striking single grouping of saints in the international calendar - striking because of the bizarre nature of the stories told about them. Their stories fall into a pattern designed to stress their collective identity, a sanctity defined above all by the heroic defence of their physical virginity but also by a stubborn witnessing to the faith which that chastity symbolized. To modem sensibilities their stories are grossly disturbing; the tortures inflicted on them almost always include whipping and frequently involve sexual mutilation (Agatha and Barbara both had their breasts tom off, as did the emperor's wife in the story of St Catherine). Ellen Ross has challenged the argument that there is an erotic element in these accounts, suggesting the extremes of violence they depict go too far for all but the most depraved imagination (1997, 101-2). The visual depiction of these saints in stained glass and wall paintings does not in fact focus on their sufferings but on their serene triumph over them, symbolised by the fact that they carry the implements used to torture them as emblems and trophies. However, there is no escaping the profound ambivalence about sexuality exemplified in these stories. Virtually all the young women are savagely tortured by men who claim to desire them. While the chastity of male saints may be tested by temptation, these young women are never susceptible; their virginity can only be assailed by brute force. But what they have chosen instead of human sexuality is to modern eyes equally disturbing. They see themselves as the consecrated brides of Christ. Catherine's mystical marriage with him before the emperor's final attack on her is described in the Golden Legend. Intriguingly, it is missing from the Welsh versions of her life, which is in line with Cartwright's suggestion (1997, 34-5) that the Welsh (at least in their literary tradition) did not value female chastity as highly as the other virtues. The status of these virgin martyrs as brides of Heaven is however reflected in the style of their visual representation. They are always depicted as young women: they cannot be allowed to grow in power and experience like the male saints. Like the Virgin Mary, they are presented as the ideal of the western European standard of beauty. The story of Apollonia was in fact adapted to suit the requirements of the genre. Originally an elderly and redoubtable deaconess from north Africa, she was nevertheless depicted (as at Gresford) as a young woman, with flowing blonde hair. Duffy suggests ( 1990, 189-90) that these virgin martyrs were seen primarily as as powerful helpers and protectors rather than as role models to be emulated. Their willingness to suffer rather than betray their beliefs is in the first place testimony to the power of good and to the firmness with which they hold their beliefs and is offered

as an example to those who have to endure much more mundane temptations. The popularity of these stories for over a millenium after the era of persecutions of orthodox Christians had ended may nevertheless suggest that they were regarded not so much as models to be imitated as exceptions to be admired and powerful mediators and advocates to be invoked. Their intercessory abilities derive from their willingness to suffer in defence of their commitment to Christ, and their specific powers are often given to them by Christ in visions during their sufferings and before their deaths. Further, their suffering is mimetic: they reflect and inscribe Christ's own sufferings on their own bodies and demonstrate the power of his love for sinful humanity (Ross 1997, 95-109). They are depicted with the instruments of their martyrdoms as Christ is depicted in glory but showing his wounds and surrounded by the instruments of his suffering and death (below pp 4347, 53). The implements used to torture and kill them could even associate them with crafts using those implements. In a reversal which seems at first bizarre but is in line with the interpretation of their suffering as their greatest triumph, St Apollonia has become the patron saint of dentists and Catherine of wheelwrights. The emphasis on their physical virginity can still be read as a powerful anti-feminine tract, suggesting that the only way in which a woman can achieve sanctity is to reject her femininity. The same restrictions were placed on men, but in the lives of male saints (like St Anthony and the Welsh St David) sexuality is seen as an ever-present temptation: and it is women who are the source of the threat. However, the female virgin martyrs have not completely turned away from the world of marriage and sexuality. Margaret was represented as being particularly concerned for women in childbirth, but in some versions of the legends of St Dorothy and St Catherine they too were promised that women who called on them in labour would be safe and children entrusted to them would not miscarry (Duffy 1990, 189-90). In spite of their rejection of traditional roles, the virgin martyr saints are seen as nurturing and protecting, though in not necessarily in conventional female ways. The Welsh Life of St Catherine refers to the legend that when she was beheaded milk flowed instead of blood, and that a healing oil flowed from her relics (Williams, J.E.C., 1973). Furthermore, as Duffy points out (1990, 187), there is also something profoundly subversive of male authority in their absolute rejection of the controlling structures of marriage and family. Margaret and Dorothy both defy their fathers; Catherine rejects the emperor himself, the highest secular authority; and virtually all the virgin martyrs defy men in high positions in civil society, prefects, governors and judges. Their stubborn chastity can here be read as a proxy for their rejection of male control of their lives. Their heroism also enables them to defy the restrictions which the medieval church placed on women's freedom of expression. Catherine out-argues the greatest intellects of Alexandria, and Apollonia cannot be silenced even by the mutilation of her mouth. It is probably no coincidence that many of the depictions of these formidable young women

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Images of Piety are in the church at Gresford, the same church as the most detailed and powerful depictions of the life of the Virgin Mary and her mother St Anne and a church virtually rebuilt under the influence of that remarkable woman Margaret Beaufort, wife of Thomas Stanley, Earl of Derby. (On the 'Stanley churches' of north Wales see e.g. Hubbard 1994, 32-4, though there is an alternative interpretation in Jones and Underwood 150.) In spite of the constraints on female leadership in the medieval church, female as well as male saints are depicted as leaders and as learned figures. Apollonia was a deaconess and church leader and is twice depicted as a learned saint carrying a book at Gresford. At Llanasa, both Winifred/Catherine and James the Greater carry books. Ashton suggests (2000, 17-18) that the reiteration of textual authority in medieval lives of female saints is in fact an emphasis on masculine law and authority, a controlling discourse to close the fissures in patriarchal authority created by these learned and articulate women. By extension from this argument, we could read the books which Catherine and the other learned saints are carrying as tokens of masculine authority which controls and validates their experience. This is however an unnecessarily pessimistic perspective on the relationship of medieval women to the written word. Books were commissioned, initiated, written and owned by women. These women were not necessarily complicit in their own subordination: the book could subvert as well as assert patriarchial authority - as Ashton herself argues in her discussion of the 'hidden voice' in medieval hagiography.

communities: Anthony and his monks are in recognisably monastic habits and they are depicted as members of an organised community with shared liturgical books and artefacts. In a different context, the pig could symbolise sensuality and gluttony and refer to the saint's battles with the Devil. Here, however, it is his identifying attribute. The association may have stemmed from the fact that pigs were kept by the Order of Hospitallers that grew around the Church of Saint Antony at La Motte, where some of his relics were kept. The pigs were identified by bells around their necks and were allowed to roam free. The pig sheltering under Anthony's cloak in the scene of his entry into the religious life looks anything but tame: it has tusks and a wicked expression. It does however appear to have something around its neck, which may be a bell, indicating it is one of the Hospitallers' pigs. It is also diminutive, recalling the tradition that the word 'tantony,' given to the runt of a litter of pigs or the smallest of a peal of bells is a corruption of 'Saint Antony' (Farmer 1978, 20). The other narrative sequence at Gresford has two scenes from the martyrdom of John the Baptist, both full of vivid incidental detail. In the first (plate 23a), a grotesque executioner beheads the saint while Salome waits with a platter. Another gaoler, armed with a spiked club, is watching. In the second (23b), Salome bears John's head into the banqueting hall and places it on the table. Herodias licks her lips and jabs her knife at the Baptist's forehead an incident incorporated into the story to explain the damage to one of the relics of his skull. Herod holds one hand up in surprise. Next to him, a richly-dressed young man looks uneasily at the head, while a page-boy with a small harp gazes admiringly at Salome. The location of these panels in the window over the altar is interesting. John the Baptist is one of the saints who is associated with the Eucharist, possibly because of the parallels between the depiction of his head on the plate and the Eucharistic wafer on the paten. The association is made more complex and powerful in the Gresford windows because of the vivid detail of the gluttonous banqueting scene. Herodias seems almost ready to eat the saint's head, while another plate on the table is full of sucking pigs. The image of an earthly banquet is often used in medieval religious art to symbolise the earthly delights of sin and seduction. Opposed images of feasting and fasting/prayer, seduction and sexual abstinence, make this a particularly rich source of metaphor (Carrasco 1991, 55). There is a further contrast between earthly food, consumed in gluttony or sacrificed in fasting, and spiritual nourishment from prayer and the Eucharist (Bynum 1987 passim). The presence of the heroic virgin martyr Apollonia in the same window as John the Baptist and St Anthony is also potentially intriguing. St Anthony was venerated as a protector against the plague and (in mainland Europe) against witches. However, as his presence here would seem to indicate, he also parallels the story of John the Baptist and Salome as a saint who was tempted by evil women but resisted (Dresen-Coenders 1987, 70-81 ). At Gresford (as one might expect under the influence of Margaret Beaufort) this anti-feminine emphasis could be countered by the presence of Apollonia and Sitha.

Male saints

As well as this assortment of female saints and martyrs, Wales has several other saints from the Roman calendar. The main panels of the east window in the Trevor chapel at Gresford have scenes from the life and death of the desert father St Anthony (plate 22) and a dramatic depiction of the martyrdom of John the Baptist (plate 24). These are unusual examples of narrative art in Welsh church decoration. St Anthony is shown entering the religious life (with a pig sheltering under his habit). A group of monks is welsornng him. One apears to be carrying a service book. The scene of his burial shows his soul as a tiny beardless figure carried away by two angels. Two monks are laying his body in a coffin while another holds a processional cross and reads from a book held by a fourth. Generally regarded as the founder of Christian monasticism, Anthony gave away his inheritance and retreated to a solitary life of great austerity in the Egyptian desert. Here he was tempted by a host of devils. He eventually emerged from his seclusion to organize the colony of ascetics that had grown around his retreat at Fayum into a loosely organized monastery with a rule, though each monk lived in solitude except for worship. The dissipation occasioned by this undertaking led him into a temptation of despair, which he overcame by prayer and hard manual labor. The identity of the desert hermit and reluctant religious leader has obviously been adjusted in the Gresford panels to conform with perceptions of later medieval monastic

30

Images of sanctity: Wales and the international tradition

Unfortunately for these speculations, we have no reason to assume that this is the original arrangement. Part of the window was reassembled in the early twentieth century from figures in at least two windows in the north wall of the church and from a box of fragments found in the crypt. It appears from one of the modern inscriptions that while the John the Baptist panels were found in their present location the St Anthony panels were at one time in the north aisle. This would have placed Anthony in the context of the powerful depictions of female sanctity in the life cycles of St Anne and the Virgin Mary. The St Anthony panels at Gresford were given by the rector, William Roden, in 1510. However, Margaret Beaufort was herself deeply devoted to St Anthony. She fasted regularly on the saint's day and had several statues of him in her chapel (Jones and Underwood 1992, 144). His presence in the north aisle at Gresford could therefore be read as yet another tribute to her in the year after her death. Another inscription records that eight of the figures (possibly including Apollonia and Sitha) came from 'the window in the north aisle of the choir', presumably one of the north windows of the Lady Chapel, where they would have partnered and supported the narrative of the death and assumption of the Virgin Mary. However, the Lady Chapel already has a series of stained glass panels depicting Apollonia and the Evangelists in the east window, above the narrative of the earlier life of the Virgin. The presence of Apollonia in the east windows of both side chapels, in the Lady Chapel drawing added lustre from the depictions of the Blessed Virgin Mary and in the Trevor Chapel acting as a counterweight to the martyrdom of John the Baptist, can possibly therefore be identified as part of the original arrangement, but no more. A similar pairing can be found in the stained glass at Llansanffraid Olan Conwy (Denb ), where John the Baptist appears with St Catherine. He may also be the figure depicted on a late fifteenth-century market cross in Carmarthen, though the carving is too worn for certainty. It is also possible that he is the figure holding an animal in its arms on the churchyard cross at Roch (Pembs). The Royal Commission inventory for Pembrokeshire (RCAHM 1925, 311) suggests it is the Good Shepherd holding a lamb, but by analogy with the Llansanffraid Olan Conwy example this figure is more likely to be John the Baptist with the Agnus Dei. John the Baptist and Anthony have both been identified on the church tower at Wrexham, with an assortment of Biblical saints and martyrs, but this is really too heterogeneous a grouping to suggest any overarching scheme.

the lion of St Mark, and SS Leonard of Limoges, Alban, Sitha and James (plate 26). They can however be read as a guide to the nature of the Christian life into which the child is baptised, and a promise of help in following that guide. Leonard and Sitha are helper saints, livers of holy lives rather than martyrs for the faith. According to legend, Leonard belonged to a noble Frankish family of the time of King Clovis. He used his family contacts to secure the release of a great number of prisoners, and was able to help Clovis's wife in childbirth. As a result he was given land at Noblac, near Limoges, to found a monastery. He was regarded as having special powers to help both prisoners and women in labour. The release of prisoners links with the guide to the Christian life found in the gospels (Matthew 25, 31-46) and later enshrined in the list of the seven corporal works of mercy, which include visiting prisoners. The saint, however, can go further and secure the release of the prisoner. This was an activity attributed to many of the saints of early medieval Europe (Carrasco 1991, 58-60), including saints who (like Radegund, commemorated at Usk (Mon), and possibly Leonard himself) chose the voluntary imprisonment of the enclosed religious life. The fact that the saint can choose voluntary incarceration for him/herself while demonstrating spiritual power by releasing others gives support to the argument that the saints are seen as extraordinary and powerful helpers rather than role models to be imitated. (In the same way, a Cistercian monk might raise cattle for the market while abstaining from red meat himself. The meat is not inherently evil; abstaining from it is a greater good but must be voluntarily chosen rather than imposed.) On a further symbolic level, the release of the prisoner symbolises the release of the soul from the body. Leonard appeared in at at least one other Welsh church; his image in the little church at Cwm-iou (Mon) was worth 6s 8d a year to the canons of Llanthony in 1538 (PRO SC6 Hen VIIl/1224). Sitha (or Zita) is a rare example in Wales of a late medieval lay saint. The extensive literature on developments in lay piety in the later medieval period has identified an increasing stress on lay sanctity (see, for example, Vauchez 1991 and 1993; Mulder-Bakker, 1995). Many of the saints officially canonised or unofficially venerated in this period lived lives of holiness in the world rather than in religious orders. However, judging by both literary and iconographic evidence, these developments had little impact on the concept of sanctity in late medieval Wales. The Welsh text Y Gysegrlan Fuchedd ('The Consecrated Life') draws on the general tradition of mystical piety but is obviously intended primarily for those in religious orders. No new Welsh saints were venerated, and apart from Thomas a Becket there is little evidence for new cults from the English or European tradition. At a time when new cults were springing up, developing and fading all over Europe, the Welsh concept of sanctity remained firmly rooted in the past, in the heroic age of the early Christian martyrs and the Welsh Age of the Saints. Sitha was a servant in the household of a merchant in thirteenth-century Lucca. Her piety and diligence at first

Helper saints

We cannot place too much weight on our deductions from the groupings of saints in stained glass because we know how easily windows can be rearranged: even the Gresford windows have been restored. We should be on safer ground, though, with the saints carved on the font at Gresford. Here we have what appears at first to be a random assortment of holy figures - the Virgin and Child,

31

Images of Piety earned her the contempt of her colleagues, but she eventually gained the trust of her employers and became the housekeeper. She was renowned for her charity to the poor, visiting, feeding and clothing them (in line with the seven corporal works of mercy) and her miracles include a number of stories in which her generosity with her employer's property is miraculously made good. She is normally depicted (as on the font at Gresford) with a bunch of keys, symbolising her status as a housekeeper. She may also be the figure with keys and a book on the east window of the Trevor chapel at Gresford (plate 25). Sitha's cult also involves issues of social class. Weinstein and Bell (1986, 202) found that, while the percentage of both urban and rural lower classes canonised increased from the thirteenth century, the majority of the officiallyaccepted saints always came from the upper classes. Vauchez (1991, 30-2) also emphasised that in spite of changes in concepts of lay piety and the sanctification of the active life dating back as far as twelfth and thirteenthcentury Europe, the concept of lay sanctity remained resolutely aristocratic in most areas until the end of the Middle Ages and beyond. Most of the vitae of the early Welsh saints describe them as being of royal or at least aristocratic birth. Even Winifred, who attempted to deter her young suitor by pointing out that she was of lower status than him, was from one of the ruling families of north-east Wales. It is possible that the stories of many of these saints were reworked to raise their status, but this does not alter the fact that the concept of sanctity in Wales was firmly rooted in social status. So St Sitha is triply unusual in Wales - a modem saint, a saint living a life of exemplary piety in the world, and a saint from the lower classes. Together, Leonard and Sitha's presence on the Gresford font provides a pointer to the works of charity which will be required of the newly-baptised Christian. St Alban, the first English martyr, may be a guide to the fortitude expected of the Christian - though in the sense of a sacrificial life rather than a sacrificial death. However, he may also be here as a reminder of the duty of hospitality, another of the corporal works of mercy. Alban was arrested and executed at Verulamium after giving hospitality and protection to a Christian priest. James, the patron saint of pilgrims, may be commemorated at Gresford because of the importance of pilgrimage in the economic life of the church there, but on the font he also stands as a guide through life's pilgrimage. St Mark may represent the guidance of the Gospels, or may signify a more specific reference to the primer reading from his gospel in which Christ promised his disciples power over demons, serpents, poison and disease. Duffy (1992, 214) has pointed to the way in which visual depictions of the Evangelists served as reminders of the primer readings from the Gospels. Finally, the Virgin and Child symbolise Christian childhood and motherhood. Other international helper saints appear in a variety of contexts in Wales. St Nicholas of Myra appears in stained glass at Llangystennin (Caems) and is probably the St Nicholas recorded at Hanmer (Flint) by Dinely in 1684. This window had disappeared by 1874 (Thomas 1874, 824). Another unusual example of narrative art in a series

of wall paintings on the west face of the chancel arch at Colwinston in the Vale of Glamorgan has been identified as the consecration of St Nicholas and one of his miracles. One painting (plate 11) is of a figure in a tub over a fire and may represent the story of the young woman who left her baby in a bathtub over the fire while she went to church. When she returned, the house was full of smoke and steam but thanks to the intervention of the saint the child was unharmed. An alternative interpretation which has been suggested is that the bishop in the consecration scene is Thomas a Becket (the coat of arms could be read as that of Canterbury) and that the figure in the tub depicts the martyrdom of St Vitus, who was boiled in oil when he was twelve (Newman 1995, 329; Orrin 1988, 123). St Nicholas is however the more likely identification; there was a chapel dedicated to him at nearby Cowbridge, but there is no other evidence of a local cult of St Vitus. Saints from the English tradition

Though an English saint, Thomas a Becket appears in both windows and wall painting in Wales. The stained glass is all in the Anglicised areas of north-east Wales. At Nerquis, Thomas balances the Welsh St David, also presented here as an episcopal saint, on either side of central panels depicting the Crucifixion and the Virgin and Child. At Hope, Lewis suggests (1970, 50) that the surviving inscription STE THOM refers to Thomas a Becket rather than the apostle Thomas, as there is no indication of a set of apostles. A mitred head in another section of the window (plate 28) may be Thomas's. He was also depicted on the chancel arch of the church at Llandeilo Talybont (Glam), in a comparatively Welsh district of south Wales: the painting is now in the National Museum of Wales. There is some poetic evidence for a cult of Thomas a Becket in Wales. An early fifteenth-century poem to St Teilo, dedicatory saint of Llandeilo Talybont, actually compares him with Thomas a Becket (Powell 1889-90). It is also surprising to modem eyes to see so many representations of the English patron saint, St George, in Welsh contexts. He appears in stained glass in the Trevor chapel at Gresford (Flint) and at Llangystennin (Caems). Dinely recorded a figure of St George at Hanmer (Flint) but it had disappeared by 1874 (Thomas 1874, 824). The foot of a mailed knight at Llanllugan (Mont) has been identified as St George, on the basis that the windows were probably the gift of Richard, Duke of York, Garter knight and Marcher lord of Cydewain (Gray and Morgan-Guy, forthcoming). A faded wall painting at Llanmaes in the Vale of Glamorgan depicts St George killing the dragon, with the princess tied to the stake behind him, but only traces of paint are now visible. Ayers (1996, 212) mentions the popularity of both St George and the Archangel Michael in medieval religious art as dragon-slayers and champions of good against evil. While Michael is depicted as the weigher of souls at the Last Judgement as frequently as the dragon-slayer, his popularity in Wales suggests that, in spite of its legendary and heraldic associations, the dragon was not seen exclusively as the emblem of the Welsh people. It is nevertheless ironical that we have more

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Images of sanctity: Wales and the international tradition

surv1vmg depictions in Wales of St George the dragonslayer than of any of the native saints of Wales.

pincers, Barbara's tower - serve as pointers to the most important aspect of the saint's life. Often (but not always) this is related to the manner of their deaths - or, in many cases, to the suffering which preceded their deaths. The depiction these serene young women triumphantly bearing the instruments of their torture and death indicates that the ability to transcend suffering is a crucial attribute of sanctity. Barbara's tower, however, suggests the way in which she transcended the limitations imposed on her in life. Dorothy's basket of flowers is a powerful reminder of her status as the bride of Christ as well as her ability to transcend death. The style of visual presentation further reinforces this impression of timelessness. These carefully posed figures in wall paintings and stained glass, under their crocketed canopies, are a continuation in other media of the carved stone or wooden statue in its niche. The different media may change the significance of what is depicted, but the style of depiction remains the same. These static portrayals are intended not to narrate a story taking place over chronological time in the past but to affirm timeless, living truths in a constant present.

The presentation of sanctity in Welsh iconography These saints are rarely presented in narrative form. We have some narrative material relating to St Anthony and St John the Baptist at Gresford (plates 22-23), and some of the wall paintings may originally have been part of narrative sequences. At Llanmaes in the Vale of Glamorgan, the painting of St George killing the dragon may always have stood alone. At nearby Colwinston, however, we have a sequence of paintings which may depict episodes in the life of either St Nicholas or St Thomas of Canterbury (plate 11). Apart from a few examples, however, the saints are represented as timeless figures with emblems or attributes which refer to and encapsulate their stories. The visual images of the saints do however contain material designed to remind the viewer of important aspects of their lives and to stimulate meditation on the aspects of sanctity they embody. Their identifying emblems and attributes - Catherine's wheel, Apollonia's

33

ChapterFour Images of sanctity: a land of saints? Wales has customarily been regarded as a land of saints. Twenty thousand were said to be buried on Bardsey Island in the remote north-west, five thousand on Ramsey Island near St David's. Sanctity was written into the human landscape. In a region of dispersed communities, the typical unit of settlement is named after spiritual as much as geographical features, with place names which are a compound of 'llan' (church enclosure) and the name of a saint. The vast majority of these saints are known only by their names, and their cults were intensely local. Of the c 500 dedicatory saints on Grahm Jones's database (in progress), about 350 are commemorated in only one location. However, Henken ( 1987) lists 46 Welsh saints for whom at least one vita or other evidence of a substantial folk tradition survives, and there were many more who featured briefly in literary or genealogical sources. Many were commemorated in traditional bardic poetry: as well as poems to the great heroes of the 'Age of the Saints', Dewi, Cadoc, Illtud or Beuno, there was a host of lesser saints with local cults, such as Lleuddad, Hywyn, Cawrdaf, Padarn, Gwytherin, Derfel and Deiniol. The absence of virtually all these saints from the visual record is perhaps easier to explain if we consider the very localised nature of most of their cults. The most likely form of commemoration of the dedicatory saint of a church was a small statue - over the door, in a niche on an inside wall, near an altar - and these statues were both the most likely to be the focus for intense local veneration and the most vulnerable to damage and destruction. Welsh saints with Winifred

widespread

cults: David

David is represented three times in fifteenth-century stained glass in north Wales, at Llanrhychwyn (Caerns) and Nerquis (Flints) and in a group of Welsh and Roman saints now placed above the Seven Sacrament window at Llandyrnog (Denbs: plate 34b ). As his cult is so strongly located in the south and south-west it is interesting to see so many visual representations of him surviving in the north and north-east. The Llandyrnog figure has been repeatedly misidentified as Deiniol, possibly because of the latter's north Wales associations. The inscription is difficult to read: it has been read as DANl[EL] (for Deiniol) but is more likely to be DAYl[D]. More conclusive is that the figure wears the pallium and carries the cross of a metropolitan archbishop. That David should be the saint most frequently represented in the surviving imagery is appropriate as he has been regarded since the twelfth century at least as the leading Welsh saint, though his celebration as a national patron dates mainly from the cultural revival of the eighteenth century. It is may also be relevant, though, that he is one of the few Welsh saints to have received formal papal recognition. Surviving iconography depicts him in conventional episcopal robes and there is no escaping the political significance of his cult and its visual legacy, even as late as the fifteenth century. His earliest written vitae had been designed to emphasise his superiority and that of his diocese over the Norman-influenced diocese of Llandaff and to assert the claims of the Welsh to ecclesiastical independence. Later, in 1406, Owain Glyndwr's programme for re-establishing the independence of the Welsh church involved elevating St David's to metropolitan status with authority over Welsh and border dioceses. The depiction of David in the north - at Llandyrnog, under the eye of the English strongholds of Ruthin and Rhuddlan as well as at Llanrhychwyn, once the church of the independent princes of Gwynedd - testifies to his importance as a national symbol. The only other Welsh saint who appears more than once in the surviving evidence is Winifred/Gwenfrewi, who is found as one of the same group as Dewi at Llandyrnog (plate 3Sb) and who is almost certainly the original of the figure now captioned as St Catherine standing to the right of the Crucifixion at Llanasa (Flint). Browne Willis (1721, 302-3) records stained glass with scenes from her life at her uncle's church of Clynnog Fawr (Caerns) but these have all disappeared. Winifred was the daughter of a chieftain of Tegeingl. As a child she vowed herself to Christ. But Caradog, the king's son, desired her and when she resisted him he attacked her and cut off her head. Winifred's holy uncle Beuno cursed Caradog so that he melted into the ground. He then replaced Gwenfrewi's head and healed her. Where the head had fallen, a healing spring arose. Surviving

and

Of the Welsh saints only Dewi/David and possibly Gwenfrewi/Winifred appear more than once in the surviving visual evidence. David is of course Wales's most famous saint and possibly the only one who would now be generally acknowledged elsewhere. Tradition made him a son of the royal house of Ceredigion in south-west Wales. His birth was foretold by angels and prophets and accompanied by numerous miracles. After years of study and travel, he founded a monastery at Rosina Vallis (now St David's) and defended it against the attacks of the local chieftain Boia. The most famous story about him concerns his attendance at the synod of Llanddewibrefi (near Lampeter, Cards), called to deal with the Pelagian heresy in Wales. David arrived late and could not make himself heard. He spread a cloth on the ground and it miraculously rose under him to form the hill on which Llanddewibrefi church now stands. He was said to have been consecrated archbishop either in Jerusalem or in Rome and took over the leadership of the Welsh church from Dyfrig.

34

Images of sanctity: a land of saints?

versions of Winifred's legend concentrate on this nearmartyrdom in defence of her virginity and on the miracles performed by her and at her well after her death: and Mirk in his sermon for her feast day described her as a martyr (Erbe 1905, 177). However, telescoped in the middle of her vita is the account of a life very similar to that of one of the male missionary saints of Wales: how she went on pilgrimage to Rome, founded a monastery where she taught and provided spiritual leadership to a number of other women, and summoned a synod of the whole church in Wales. Like Catherine, therefore, she can be considered as one of the learned saints as well as those who were prepared to suffer in defence of their chastity. Her representation in stained glass at Llandyrnog and Llanasa focusses on her learning and her status as an honorary martyr, but the third aspect of her life, her religious leadership, is also commemorated visually. On the seal of the cathedral chapter of St Asaph (plate 62b ), she appears wimpled as an abbess, bearing a crozier, symbol of leadership and authority (Williams 1993, 42-3) and (Cartwright suggests: 1999, 84) a reliquary. The image could be proleptic: the object in her right hand is similar to the reliquary which Lhuyd recorded at her shrine, a fragment of which has recently been rediscovered at Holywell (Edwards and Hulse 1994, 91-101 ).

references in poetry and contradictory entries in saintly genealogies. Henken suggests (1987, 196-7) that the Tyrnog of tradition is in fact a composite figure. Traditionally, St Frideswide of Oxford was said to be the daughter of a local ruler. Her father established a convent for her in Oxford but the neighbouring king, Aelgar of Mercia, fell in love with her. She was forced to run away to escape him, and took refuge in the marshes around Binsey, where she spent the rest of her life as a hermit. After her death her remains were interred in her original convent which stood on the site of Oxford Cathedral, now contained within Christ Church. Twice a year, the students went in solemn procession to her shrine. Lewis (1970, 56) claims to be bewildered by the presence of Frideswide, patron saint of Oxford University, at Llandyrnog: but it is in fact quite likely that she was placed there under the influence of a rector or a patron with Oxford connections or scholarly aspirations. Frideswide's cult was not widespread even in England. There are however references to her elsewhere in Wales. The Carmarthenshire poet Lewis Glyn Cothi refers to her three times. His elegy for Nest of Caeo (Carms) compares her to figures like Enid from the romances but mainly to female saints. Praising her for her piety, charity and hospitality he compares her to Non, Brigid, Ann, 'Ffriswydd and the saints of Rhos [in Cardigan]' (Johnston 1995, 39.23). An ode to Dafydd ap Llywelyn and his wife Lleucu, who lived in Castellhywel (Cards), praises the welcome they extended to travellers and describnes the numbers of people who travelled there, comparing them to the numbers of travellers to the shrine of St Beuno at Clynnog, to the 'fairs of Oswald' [Oswestry] 'or St Ffriswydd'. The editors suggest this is a reference to students thronging to Oxford and makes it clear that the university was identified with Frideswide in the Welsh mind (Johnston 1995, 74.56). In a poem in praise of Gruffudd Derwas and his wife Gwenhwyfar of Nannau (Meir), Lewis describes Gwenhwyfar as 'the Saint Ffriswydd of Meirionydd'. She is also likened to Catherine, Brigid, Winifred and Dwynwen, but Frideswide comes first in the list. In spite of her Welsh name, Gwenhwyfar was from an English family, a branch of the Stanleys from Hooton in the Wirral. At Llandymog, therefore, the learned martyr Catherine is commemorated with three female hermits who lived sacrificial lives rather than enduring death for their beliefs. The other three are all presented as learned saints. Marcella and Frideswide hold closed books in hands covered by their cloaks, with the same reverential gesture as a priest holding the Host through his vestments. As at Llanasa, Winifred is depicted with the sword of her near-martyrdom as well as the book which symbolises her later life of study and spiritual leadership, though at Llanasa the book is open, while at Llandymog it is closed. The four are now placed on either side of the archetype of sanctified learned womanhood, the Blessed Virgin Mary, who is sitting with a book open in front of her when she receives the news of her miraculous conception. Oddly, Catherine is the only female saint at Llandyrnog

Winifred and her companions at Llandyrnog The stained glass at Llandymog places Winifred in the company of a group of learned female saints. She now appears in the tracery lights above the Seven Sacrament window, in company with the local anchoress St Marcella (plate 35a), the English virgin saint Frideswide, patron saint of Oxford University (plate 36a), and Winifred's alter ego Catherine, patron saint of scholars and learning (plate 36b). These saints now bracket the central image in the tracery light, which is of the Annunciation. Above them, the upper tracery lights have representations of SS David and Asaph on either side of a depiction of the Coronation of the Virgin (plates 33-34). The hagiographic schema in this window has to be treated with even more caution than that at Gresford. At Llandyrnog, we are almost certain that the original arrangement has been disrupted more than once, and it may well derive from more than one medieval window. As well as saints, the Blessed Virgin Mary and the Seven Sacraments, the window now contains fragments from a sequence depicting the twelve apostles with their sections of the Creed, and the Evangelists with their emblems. Nevertheless, what has survived represents a theological and hagiographic statement of some complexity which might have been made more strongly and with greater richness of detail in the original series of windows. Little is known about the first of Winifred's companions, St Marchell or Marcella. She was the sister of Tyrnog, the dedicatory saint of the church, and is said to have lived nearby as a hermit. The church of Llanfarchell near Denbigh is dedicated to her. Tyrnog himself is one of the more obscure Welsh saints, known only from oblique

35

Images of Piety without a book. As the patron saint of scholars, she may have been sufficiently well recognised as a learned figure not to need an identifying symbol. The other three figures are very similar to each other, and Frideswide and Marcella are virtually identical. In the absence of any specific visual tradition for Marcella (and possibly in ignorance of the traditional depiction of Frideswide, who is normally represented as a Benedictine abbess with an ox or, occasionally, a pig) the craftsman at Llandyrnog has used virtually the same cartoon for both saints, though they have been given different faces. This is typical of medieval artistic practice. The visual portrayal of many of the saints in medieval religious art is repetitive, making it difficult sometimes to identify individual saints in the absence of distinctive attributes. There is some repetition even in attributes: at Llanasa, the depiction of Winifred with a sword, the instrument of her near-martyrdom, has apparently led the Victorian restorers to identify her as Catherine. When a saint has no specific identifying attributes, though, an element of choice is involved in creating an identity for her. We need to go beyond standard artistic practice and explore the meaning of this similarity in the appearance of the less well-known saints. Like the stories of the saints' lives, their visual depictions are often derivative, full of borrowings from portrayals of other saints. This similarity of visual as well as narrative motifs stresses the collective identity of the saints, which is ultimately modelled on the identity of Christ. The life and miracles of one saint are reinforced by their parallels with the lives and miracles of their predecessors and fellows and of Christ himself (Carrasco 1991, 34, 37-41). At Llandyrnog, similarity of appearance and the fairly generic attributes of the book and the palm are used to create an identity for Marcella with the other two more famous saints, Frideswide and Winifred. A saint of whom virtually nothing is now known is presented as one of four learned women. It is also interesting to note, though, that both Frideswide and Marcella are depicted bearing palms, usually an indication of martyrdom. Are they honorary martyrs because of their chastity and holiness of life, or is this a suggestion that the only women allowed to debate their faith are those prepared to die for it?

female saints at Llandyrnog, we need to explore the significance of what lies behind standard artistic practice in this case, the assumption that church leaders are best depicted as bishops. In Wales this assumption was to say the least contentious. On the one hand, these windows present two leaders of the early Welsh church as being endowed with all the authority of a canonically ordained bishop. On the other hand, the distinctive identity of the early Welsh church with its decentralisation and emphasis on monastic as well as episcopal authority is lost. There are also implications for concepts of sanctity and the recurring medieval debate over holy poverty and the challenge of extreme asceticism (Carrasco 1991, 46-7). David's vitae, Latin as well as Welsh, describe his austerity of life - eating rough bread and cress, drinking only water, labouring in the fields around his monastery. However, the visual depictions of both David and Asaph emphasise not this aspect of their piety but the dignity and hierarchical authority of the institutional church. There were alternative possibilities for the depiction of male saints. At least one Welsh saint is depicted as a hermit, in a carving slightly earlier in date than the stained glass discussed above. The parish church of Llaniestyn (Ang) has a stone effigy of its patron saint, formerly raised on a masonry platform in front of the high altar but now fixed to the west wall of the south transept. Iestyn appears in the saintly pedigrees as the son of Geraint ab Erbin, Prince of Dumnonia. He or his cult may have moved north as early as the sixth century: there is a church dedicated to him at Llaniestyn in Llyn (Caerns), and the effigy is witness to an early tradition concerning his final resting place. The church is in a remote location on the southeastern peninsula of Anglesey, near the monastic foundation of St Seiriol at Penmon, and could feasibly have been chosen as a hermitage (Gresham 1968, 233). The effigy, which has been dated to about 1380, shows the saint as a bearded man in a long tunic with a rope belt, a cloak and a pilgrim's staff. The saint is not however conspicuously affecting poverty. He is well shod; his cloak has a neat border and is fastened with a circular brooch. Although the effigy is in a remote church in the north-west, Gresham (1968, 231-2) suggests it was part of the Flintshire tradition of fine stone carving. The inscription records that it was commissioned by Gwenllian daughter ofMadoc and her husband's nephew Gruffydd ap Gwilym, ancestor of the Gruffydd family of Penrhyn (Caerns). The family had lands near the sandstone quarry district of north Flintshire as well as in Anglesey and Caernarfonshire. Other Welsh saints were depicted as secular rather than ecclesiastical authorities. At Llanbabo, in the middle of Anglesey, an effigy remarkably similar in style to that of St Iestyn depicts St Pabo as a king, with crown and sceptre and wearing elaborate robes. The inscription along the side of the slab calls him Pabo post Prydain, Pabo the support of Prydain. Described in the saintly genealogies as king and confessor, he was traditionally said to have been one of the rulers of northern Britain. Driven from his territory, he fled to Wales and was given land on Anglesey by Cadwallon Llawhir (Gresham 1968, 233-5).

Male sanctity: bishops, hermits and kings A fourth Welsh saint appears with David and Winifred in the east window at Llandyrnog. David's fellow-bishop Asaph is one of the least-known of Welsh saints, in spite of the fact that he is credited with having founded the diocese which bears his name. Like David, Asaph is depicted at Llandyrnog in conventional episcopal robes and framed by architecture which demonstrates his status and power (plate 34a). This is the standard European model for the depiction of a saint who was a church leader. In a specifically Welsh context, however, its political and cultural implications were complex and inescapable. Whatever the intentions of the craftsmen who designed and constructed the windows, they were viewed by a largely Welsh congregation who brought with them a distinctively Welsh tradition of sanctity. As with the depictions of

36

Images of sanctity: a land of saints?

The church at Llangadwaladr (Ang) takes its name from the saintly king Cadwaladr Fendigaid. His father, the appalling Cadwallon ap Cadfan, was savaged by Bede for his atrocities against the Northumbrians. Cadwaladr succeeded him as chief of the Britons but led them to defeat, preferring the founding of churches to the battlefield. However, he was credited with giving refuge to many Christians who had fled from the Saxons. He was said to be buried with his grandfather at Llangadwaladr, near the royal palace of Aberffraw, but there was a tradition that he would rise again to lead his people (Baring-Gould and Fisher ii 42-6). In the much-restored east window of the church, Cadwaladr sits in the coronation robes of a late medieval English king, under the Crucifixion and between the two donors, Owain ap Meurig and his wife Elen (plates 42, 44-45). The coat of arms on Owain's tabard includes the arms of Llywarch ap Bran and Hwfa, king of Anglesey; the donors are deliberately associating themselves with the family of the saint.

hare and the hounds were unable to attack it. Impressed by her holiness, Brochwel gave her the land around her cell as a perpetual sanctuary. She founded a community of virgins there and led them until her death 37 years later. Shortly after her death, her community was attacked by one Elise, who tried to defile the nuns, but he died suddenly and painfully (Pryce 1994, 23-40). Her settlement subsequently became a focus for pilgrimage. An apsidal church was built there to house an elaborate Romanesque shrine containing her relics. In his elegy to Einion ap Gruffudd of Llechwedd Y strad, who was buried at Pennant Melangell, Guto'r Glyn describes his pilgrimages there (Britnell and others 1994, 48; cf Allchin 1994) A Phennant i gorffEiniawn Oedd wyddfa lwys, deddfol iawn, Melangell ai 'r gafell gynt A'r dylwyth fa! y delynt (Pennant for Einion's body Was a seemly resting place, holy indeed. He had been to Melangell formerly with his family, as was fitting)

The traditions of female sanctity

Cartwright (1997, 38) comments on the number of surviving vitae and other recorded traditions relating to female Welsh saints from the fifth, sixth and seventh centuries. However, in comparison with the immense number of male saints, the number of women in the surviving record is not so impressive. Of 65 saints whose traditions have been identified by Henken (1987), only five are female. The surviving vitae and associated literary traditions of these female saints are noticeably thinner that those of the male saints and focus (like the lives of the virgin martyrs of the international church) on their defence of their chastity and their post-mortem miracles. Winifred is prepared to face death rather than submit to Caradoc. Brigid tears out one of her eyes to deter a suitor, and Melangell leaves her native land in Ireland for the life of a hermit in Wales. The focus of the visual tradition is however markedly different. While there are more representations of male than female Welsh saints in the visual record, the proportions are not as overwhelmingly weighted in favour of the male saints as they are in the literary evidence: and female saints are depicted in contexts of power and leadership. Winifred and Marchell are the only female saints depicted in stained glass. There is however a carving of St Melangell with the hare which became her attribute on the rood screen of her church at Pennant Melangell (Mont: plate 61b ). It has also been suggested that a late fourteenthcentury effigy in the church may be a figure of the saint, and that the strange animal heads carved on it are intended to represent hares (Gresham 1986, 244). According to the fifteenth-century Historia Divae Monacellae, Melangell was the daughter of an Irish king who fled to Wales to escape an unwanted marriage, as she wanted to live a life of chastity. She settled in the upper Tanat valley and lived there in seclusion for fifteen years. When Brochwel, king of Powys, was hunting in the area, a hare fled from his hounds and took refuge with Melangell. She sheltered the

Like the surviving versions of the story of St Winifred, the Historia Divae Monacellae concentrates on her early adulthood, her defence of her chastity and the miracles she performed both before and after her death. Again like the story of St Winifred, however, it has compressed into a few lines an alternative account of the life of a woman who defied both family and secular authority, who took radical steps to secure the life she wanted, and who founded and controlled a religious community. There is also an implication behind the story as we have it now that Brochwel's hunting expedition was a challenge to Melangell's seclusion and potentially to her chastity. In facing down his hunting dogs she demonstrates her control of the natural world and of animal passion. The carving of Melangell on the rood screen emphasises this interpretation of her life. She is depicted as an abbess, with a book in one hand and a crozier in the other, though the head of the crozier has broken off since Parker drew it in 1837. The story has been telescoped on the screen, as she is shown protecting the hare while already an abbess. She sits on an oak-leaf trail on the cross-beam of the rood screen. To her right, Brochwel's huntsman kneels, blowing his hunting horn, and Brochwel sits on his horse. To her left, two large dogs chase an over-sized hare which runs towards her through the foliage trails. The presence of this carving on the rood screen associates Melangell's defence of her chastity and the sacred space of her sanctuary with the Crucifixion, the Eucharist which re-enacted Christ's sacrifice, and the sacred space within the church in which that re-enactment took place. A strange carving formerly at Llan-non and now in the Ceredigion Museum, Aberystwyth, is believed to represent St Non, mother of St David (Cartwright 1996, plate 25). Non is one of the mother saints of the Welsh canon, though the developed version of her story (found in Rhigyfarch's Latin Life of St David: James 1967) emphasises her

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Images of Piety spiritual chastity by making her conceive as a result of rape. This seems to be a late development in the story and is in contradiction with the earlier part of Rhigyfarch's account, which describes David's father as the holy (and mature if not elderly) ruler Sanctus (James 1967, 1-4). However, the Llan-non stone is badly worn and could be the Virgin and Child: it has even been suggested that it may be a sheela-na-gig. A poem by Lewis Glyn Cothi refers to the 'delw wen', a statue of Non in the chapel at her well near St David's, but this has now vanished (Cartwright 1999, 85-6, 165). It is possible that the stone carving over the priest's door at Llandegley (Rads) is a statue of St Tecla. Another more famous church dedicated to this saint, Llandegla in Denbighshire, had a famous holy well dedicated to the saint nearby. According to the Biblical account in the Acts of the Apostles, Thecla was a disciple of St Paul. After enduring great persecution and gaining a reputation as a healer, she was martyred at the age of 90 and buried at Seleucia. There are many churches dedicated to her in the Middle East, but the Welsh dedications are the only two in Britain. How an Eastern saint came to be honoured in north Wales is not known. It is however possible that the saint commemorated at Llandegley and Llandegla is a local woman named after her. An early thirteenth-century collection of miracula now in the Lambeth Palace Library (MS 94) identifies a separate saint Tecla whose miracula follow those of the Biblical St Thecla and whose sepulchre was said to be at Lanteglin - the modem Llandegley (Sharpe 1990, 166-76). We have thus only a small number of surviving identifiable depictions of purely Welsh saints. However, we could also count the Irish St Brigid as Welsh because of the length of time she spent in Wales and the number of hagiographic and poetic references to her. Henken suggests (1987, 161-7) that the St Brigid of Welsh tradition is a composite of Brigid of Kildare, Brigid of Cill-Muine and an unidentified Brigid who lived in north Wales, with some features from the medieval St Brigid of Sweden. Our knowledge of the Welsh cult of the saint derives almost entirely from a sixteenth-century poem in her honour by Iorwerth Fynglwyd of St Bride's Major (Glam) (Jones, H.L., and Rowlands, 1975, 94-5). Iorwerth Fynglwydd's poem is presumably connected with the small statue of St Brigid which is now placed in the southern altar squint of St Bride's Major church. We have no way of telling how this statue survived when virtually all the other medieval statues of saints were destroyed in the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries. There are no local traditions of its preservation or rediscovery. The poet refers to the incident in the life of Brigid of Kildare in which the saint tore out one of her eyes to escape the attentions of a suitor; her subsequent journey to Wales on a piece of turf; and her healing of her stepmother's leg. She belongs to the nurturing and healing tradition of virginal saints. Her miraculous provision of food and drink - beer for all the churches in her neighbourhood in Ireland, butter from ashes, an inexhaustible supply of cheese, honey from a rock, fish from rushes - parallels the provision of spiritual food in the bread and wine of the Eucharist (for details of these

folk traditions see Henken 1987, 161-7), while her suffering to preserve her chastity could be regarded as a substitute for a martyrdom. However, Iorwerth also refers in passing to the pymtheg gweddi, the fifteen prayers to the wounds of Christ attributed to St Brigid of Sweden. This may be a simple confusion between Brigid of Sweden and the earlier St Brigid, but it may also be read as a deliberate attempt to approximate this popular late medieval devotion to the traditions of the Welsh saints. Vanished images

We are of course aware of a number of other depictions of Welsh as well as international saints which have disappeared. The obscure St Derfel, nicknamed 'Gadarn' ('the strong'), is now virtually unknown and even the medieval traditions about him were thin and lacking in detail. Henken (1987, 207) found 46 poetic references to his prowess as a warrior but the only specific tradition was that he fought at the battle of Camlaan and subsequently entered the religious life. Nevertheless, his statue at Llandderfel (Meir) was one of the most popular focal points for pilgrimage in north Wales and its destruction was a priority in 1538 (see below pp 74-75). According to local tradition, it was one of the notorious medieval mechanical images, like the more famous 'Rood of Boxley' and the 'Delw Fyw' (the 'Living Image', either Christ or the Virgin Mary) at Mold. Derfel's image had eyes which could be made to open and close as well as limbs which moved. (The sixteenth-century reformers would have us believe that these statues were deliberately manufactured to deceive a credulous population. We do not of course have to accept this uncritically. A mechanical image which could be touched, handled and carried about the parish in procession would not have deceived anyone.) The statue was seated on a horse and held a staff (Henken 1987, 208-9, quoting from an Eisteddfod essay of 1898 on the folk-lore of Merionethshire ). The parish church still displays the remains of an ornate staff, over a metre long, with four bosses spaced along its length. It also has the mutilated remains of a seated animal traditionally known as Derfel's horse (plate 31a). It is indented in a way suitable for a mounted figure and a staff. However, the animal is seated and looks superficially more like a stag than a horse. Derfel's other church, Llandderfel near Cwmbran (Mon) also claimed a picture as well as a relic of the saint (PRO E3 l 5/209 f 20d; SC6 Hen VIIl/2500, 2501). Beuno once appeared with his better-known niece Winifred and his servant Aelhaiam in the stained glass at the church Beuno founded in Clynnog Fawr (Caems) but all trace of this has now disappeared (Browne Willis 1721, 302-3). Tradition describes Beuno as one of the more energetic missionary saints of early medieval Wales, with churches associated with him from Holywell to Llyn and as far south as Llanllugan (Mont). He was also one of the more important healer saints. The tradition was that he had raised six people from the dead and would one day raise a seventh. Of the six, one was Winifred and the other was the servant Aelhaiam who was once commemorated with him at Clynnog Fawr. According to the legend, Aelhaiam

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Images of sanctity: a land of saints?

eavesdropped on Beuno's prayers and was tom apart by wild animals as a punishment, but when Beuno found what had happened he reassembled and reanimated the remains. He is credited with a number of more general healing miracles, and his tomb and well in Clynnog Fawr were visited by the sick as late as the end of the eighteenth century. Some traditions also make Beuno a nurturing saint who fed those who oppressed him (Henken 1987, 74-88). According to Browne Willis, Beuno was depicted twice at Clynnog Fawr, once in the chancel window in a sequence narrating the story of Beuno and Winifred and some of their miracles and once as an attendant figure at the Crucifixion in the east window of the chapel dedicated to him. Caution is however necessary in dating these windows. Browne Willis also records the continuation of pilgrimages to Clynnog Fawr and its holy well. In 1720 the offerings of pilgrims brought so much money to the church that it had not been necessary to raise a church rate in living memory. It is thus possible that the stained glass which Browne Willis saw was post-medieval (and possibly from the period after the restoration of the Anglican church in 1660), though its fragmented state as described by Browne Willis argues for an earlier date and for reconstruction post 1660 (Browne Willis 1721, 302-3).

place names, inheritance laws, hospitality customs, detailed descriptions of landscape, settlement and estate management and of the fabric of everyday life. Welsh (and indeed English) vitae also emphasise the continuing corporeal connection of the saint with the locality through churches, relics, shrines and wells, items which once belonged to the saint, commemorative rituals and customs which reinforce the memory of the actual place where the event happened (Jankofsky 1991, 86-8). Welsh saints are almost all of them commemorated visually in the areas with which they were connected in their lives; only David and Winifred transcend this geographical limitation to any degree. However, the main typological difference between international and Welsh saints is the absence in the Welsh tradition of a significant cult of martyrs. There were of course the two Welsh proto-martyrs, Julius and Aaron, traditionally said to have been killed in the Caerleon amphitheatre during the Diocletian persecution. However, virtually all other Welsh martyrologies are onomastic stories of otherwise unknown saints, developed to explain place names with the element merthyr. This derives from the Latin martyrium, 'a place where relics are kept': but its occurrence in connection with personal names has in some cases led to its being misinterpreted as 'a place of martyrdom'. None of these obscure martyrdom legends is commemorated in the surviving visual imagery. Winifred is presented with sword and scarred neck as a token that she was prepared to die in defence of her chastity: but the other Welsh saints whose visual representations we have been considering were renowned for their holy lives rather than their holy deaths. By contrast, the majority of the international saints depicted in Wales belong to the martyrdom tradition of the early church. By the later medieval period, concepts of sanctity were changing elsewhere. The lives and cults of the new medieval saints demonstrate the need to move away from the cult of physical martyrdom to other forms of 'living martyrdom' (Bynum 1987, 20-21). Weinstein and Bell (1986) and Vauchez (1993) remark on the increasing number of female saints during the period 11001400; the rising percentage of married saints and of lay saints generally; and the broadening of the class base of sainthood. This parallels the decline in quasi-clerical opportunities for women (as abbesses of large mixed houses) and the move towards more mystical forms of spirituality. Little of this was reflected in Wales. Ironically, the early medieval Welsh saints partook much more of the new concepts of sanctity than the traditional martyr saints: but judging from the visual evidence the latter retained their popularity in Wales along with the native non-martyrs. There were no new canonisations in Wales in the postConquest period: for the Welsh, the concept of sanctity remained firmly rooted in the past, in the glorious days of the Age of the Saints. Nor did the Welsh adopt many of the new cults which were becoming popular in England and continental Europe. St Thomas a Becket, St Brigid and St Sitha are the only recognisable later medieval

Wales and the international tradition The preponderance of saints from the international tradition (and even of saints like Thomas Becket, whose cult was centred in England) in the Welsh visual evidence is difficult to explain. A similar proportion of international to local saints is of course found in much of Europe. In Wales, however, the literary and folklore evidence suggests that the traditions and cults of local saints were powerful and enduring, more so than in England, for example. Nevertheless, this is not reflected in the visual evidence. The pattern appears even more marked if we conclude that David and Winifred are represented more frequently than the other Welsh saints because they were recognised by the Roman church. The difference does not appear to be based on geography or ethnicity. Welsh saints are as likely to appear in Anglicised areas such as the Vale of Clwyd and international saints are as likely to appear in the Welsh heartland. Geography is however important when we consider the relationship between the saints' cults and the location of their images. The vitae of the international saints and martyrs describe them in accordance with Delehaye's schemata: hyperbolic accounts of generic miracles, detailed descriptions of agonising and exemplary deaths. Temporality and spatiality are vague, the typology of the saint is characteristically and weakly individualized, and the course of the life is patterned (Boyer 1981). We are looking at a common 'horizon of expectation' in which the life and death of the saint affirms and reinforces the values of a whole society (Elliot 1987, 8-18). In contrast, while the Welsh lives are certainly patterned and celebrate communally-shared concepts of sanctity (Henken 1991 passim), they are are full of topographical and social detail:

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Images of Piety canonisations. For the Welsh saints, geographical location is probably more important than typology. The choice of saint for depiction seems to have depended not on what kind of saint they were but on their relationship to the local community. Late medieval iconography could negotiate the typology of local saints to express local concerns. Like the saints of the Book of Lian Dav, whose spiritual powers were called upon to bolster the claims of the twelfthcentury diocese, the Welsh saints of stained glass and carved stone are not so much distant exemplars of the holy life as active participants in church life and politics (Little 1991). David was depicted at Llanrhychwyn (Caerns) and Llandyrnog (Denb: plate 34b) as a bishop. The early medieval saint-king Cadwaladr appears in the Crucifixion window at Llangadwaladr (Ang) as a fifteenth-century king in Parliament robes (plate 44b ). The hermit Marcella was dressed in brocade vestments with book and palm leaf as a suitable companion for Frideswide, Winfred and Catherine, also at Llandyrnog (plates 35-36).

figures on the south faces of the same crosses (plates 48b, 65b) are both St Carma. According to legend (surviving only in the dubious recordings of the inventive Glamorgan antiquarian Iolo Morgannwg) Crallo was the son of Carma (dedicatory saint of Llan-gan) and her first husband Sadwrn. That these saints exist only in folk tradition is not of course an argument against their identification on late medieval carvings, but it would be useful to have a reference to the tradition earlier than Iolo's own manuscripts (now in the National Library of Wales in Aberystwyth). There are another two episcopal figures on the churchyard cross at Hanmer (Flints): Lee suggested (187 6) that they might be Chad, the dedicatory saint of the church, and Dunawd from nearby Bangor-on-Dee, but this must remain pure speculation. Beyond these conjectures, we have no way of accounting for the unknown number of paintings and carvings which were destroyed in the Reformation and subsequent centuries. Well chapels, shrines and and parish churches would all have had representations of their dedicatory saints, and these were the most likely to have been targeted for destruction as 'feigned' and 'abused' images. We can only speculate about their identity and distribution: but it is at least possible that they would have followed the pattern we have identified in the surviving evidence of single representations of local saints in the areas with which they were connected and a more widespread distribution of saints from the early tradition of the international church. Where Welsh saints are represented outside churches dedicated to them, this frequently reflects other connections with the locality. Marchell is depicted in the windows of the church at Llandymog (Denb) dedicated to her brother Tyrnog. He in tum was once depicted not in his own church but in nearby Llangynhafal. Asaph is also represented at Llandyrnog as the patron saint of the diocese. Aelhaiarn and Winifred as well as Beuno were once represented in the windows of Beuno's principal church at Clynnog Fawr because of their importance in Beuno's Life. The main exceptions to this pattern are David, who appears in several north Wales churches although his cult is almost entirely focused on the south and south-west, and Winifred, who is represented in stained glass at Llandymog (Denb) and possibly at Llanasa (Flint) as well as in the now-destroyed windows at her uncle's church at Clynnog Fawr. Llandyrnog is on the conjectural route from Winifred's main shrine at Holywell to the monastic church she founded at Gwytherin (Denb ), but Llanasa has no obvious direct connection. These depictions of the saints in the places with which they had the closest ties in their lives or where their relics were believed to lie are the visual assertion of a sense of continuous community, ritually re-enacted by the celebration of the saint's day. The presence of donor figures in contemporary dress, as at Gresford and Llangadwaladr (plates 42, 45), provides a further link between past and present and incorporates the viewer in the viewed image. Through the depiction of the saint of the individual place, this spiritual community then extends to include the other saints of the local and international calendar depicted in glass, fresco and carving, and eventually to the depiction of the Godhead.

Sanctity and location More significant for the Welsh saints is where they are represented. With few exceptions, identifiable depictions of Welsh saints are firmly anchored in the communities with which their lives have been traditionally linked. Thus, we have references to a statue of St Silin at Llansilin (Denb) and a portrait of St Elian on the rood screen at Llaneilian (Ang) (Thomas 1874, 517; Lewis 1833 vol 2, unpaginated). The saintly abbot Dunawd was once commemorated in a wall painting at the monastic church dedicated to him at Bangor Is-coed (Flint) and there may have been an image of St Tysilio in his church at Meifod (Mont) (Thomas 1874, 800; Williams, G., 1976, 495). Legend describes Dunawd as the son of St Pabo of Anglesey and father of St Deiniol. In his youth he was a warrior but in later life he was the founder and first abbot of Bangor Iscoed. He occurs in Bede as one of the Welsh church leaders who met Augustine and refused to accept his leadership (Baring-Gould and Fisher ii 382-6). It is of course more than likely that a number of portrayals of saints, Welsh, English and international, survive as unidentifiable figures or fragments of figures in carving and stained glass. In particular, as the Welsh male saints are so often depicted as bishops, it is possible that the unidentified episcopal saint at Llanasa, the composite episcopal figure at Llanwnnog and possibly some of the other robed figures are saints from the Welsh tradition. The patchworks of stained glass which the Victorians were so fond of constructing from medieval fragments are full of scraps of drapery as well as architectural details which probably come from the canopies over depictions of saints. How and why these scraps survived when the identifiable parts of the glass have been lost or destroyed we can only conjecture. Unidentified episcopal figures also survive in other contexts, as on the north face of the churchyard crosses at St Mary Hill and possibly at Llan-gan (Glam: plates 48a, 65a). Hugh Allen has suggested (pers. comm.) that this figure is St Crallo, the dedicatory saint of the neighbouring church at Coychurch, and that the female

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ChapterFive Images of Pity: the iconography of the crucified Christ There is little in surviving medieval Welsh religious art about the life of Christ. This is partly a reflection of the purpose of visual imagery in the later medieval period, from which virtually all the Welsh evidence dates. Like the depictions of saints, pictures of Christ were meant to provide not narrative or instruction but material for devout contemplation. There are thus none of the depictions of miracles or infancy narratives which survive in the earlier Continental tradition (Schiller 1972 vol 1 passim). Nor does Wales share in the European developments of the period immediately before the Reformation, with its detailed narratives of the Crucifixion elaborated with images drawn from Old Testament prophecy (Marrow 1979, passim). These proleptic images of Christ awaiting the Crucifixion but surrounded with the Instruments of the Passion, or of the Crucifixion itself with attendant saints and donors, in their architectonic framing, reflect the move in the contemporary literary tradition towards the more meditative spiritual approach of the devotio moderna Even the Nativity is rare in surviving Welsh ecclesiastical imagery. John Morgan-Guy has identified two carved wooden panels in the Cathedral at St David's as depictions of the Nativity and the Flight into Egypt. The same scenes were depicted in the stained glass sequence of the life of the Virgin Mary at Gresford, but all that now survive are the inscriptions NATALIS CHRISTI and FUGA IN AEGYPT. The two scenes in the modem window are Victorian reconstructions. There are however some possible depictions of events surrounding the Nativity, which may have had as much importance in the visual record as the birth itself. E.C. Rouse has suggested (Parkinson 1985, 19) that the figures on the north wall of the north chapel at Llandeilo Talybont (Glam) are also the Magi, but they are too faded for a definite identification. (It is also possible that the seated female figure on the east wall of the same chapel is the Virgin Mary with the infant Jesus, but this is only conjecture.) We have already referred to Conwy's image of Mary with the Magi (the 'Three Kings of Cologne') in the Walton chapel of the parish church. The sacrarium at Llaneilian-yn-Rhos has panels depicting the Adoration of the Shepherds as well as the Adoration of the Magi. However, these seem to have been part of a cycle of paintings depicting the life of the Virgin Mary. It is possible that the scene below the Adoration of the Magi is the Nativity: it is faded and fragmentary but seems to resemble closely the Nativity on the carved wooden panel at St David's and the almost identical painting in NLW Peniarth 23 (Hirst 1999; for Peniarth 23 see Cartwright 1999 plate III). What was commemorated in Christ's birth narrative, if the surviving imagery and the evidence of what has been lost is any guide, quite as much as the actual birth, was the epiphany, Christ's showing in the body of a child. The viewer is prompted not so much to tender love of a

helpless infant as to adoration of the incarnate deity. The same is perhaps true to some extent even of the ubiquitous depictions of the Virgin and Child. Most of the Welsh examples which have survived - in illuminated books and on convent seals - show Christ as a sturdy toddler, in his mother's arms but reaching out actively to touch her or to feed at her breasts. For the medieval church, though, the defining events of the narrative of redemption were not Crucifixion and Nativity but Crucifixion and Incarnation. The Annunciation, the moment at which God became human flesh, was commemorated in frescoes, stained glass and carved wood and stone: and in the medieval calendar the year began not at midwinter but on Lady Day. The spirituality of late medieval Wales shared with the spirituality of W estem Christianity as a whole this focus on the body and the physicality of the Incarnation, centred on Christ's physical suffering and the Cross (Beckwith 1993; Bynum 1987 esp 251-9). The inescapable image of the crucified Christ, depicted with all the graphic pathos and horror of which the craftsman was capable, hung above the rood screen in virtually every church, glowed in stained glass and much-repainted frescoes inside and was carved on preaching crosses in the churchyard. The whole story of the episodes surrounding the Crucifixion was told in the wall paintings which survived at Llandeilo Talybont (Glam) and are now in the Museum of Welsh Life at St Fagan's, and in the now-destroyed sequence at Llanwddyn (Mont), drowned beneath the waters of Lake Vymwy (Haslam 1979, 151). The Rood

For the ordinary worshipper, it was the image of Christ on the rood which dominated the church. The vast majority of churches in medieval Wales would have had a rood screen: Crossley and Ridgway list nearly 300 churches with remnants or other evidence of screens, many of them destroyed not at the Reformation but by Victorian 'restoration' (Crossley and Ridgway 1944-59). The destruction of all but a couple of the carvings which would have surmounted these screens is itself testimony to their power to move emotion and excite devotion. Those fragments which survive - the Kemeys and Mochdre figures, both now in the National Museum of Wales (plates 29, 59a) - are battered but still immensely moving depictions of an emphatically human Christ, seen in the Mochdre figure at the extreme of physical agony. Both are surprisingly small figures. This may be why they have survived when so many others have been destroyed. The Kemeys figure would have been about 93 cm tall; the Mochdre figure has been estimated at about 58 cm, and it has even been suggested that the Mochdre figure was never fixed to the rood but came from a freestanding cross

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Images of Piety

elsewhere in the church (Redknap 2000: I am grateful to Dr Redknap for discussing his findings in advance of publication. The following paragraphs are based on his article). The figure of Christ from Kemeys Inferior (Mon: plate 29) is the earlier of the two, and has recently been dated to the late thirteenth century. The available evidence suggests that it was something of a cult figure in the church as it predates the construction of the rood, which was built to house it. If the statue had some special importance, this may help to explain why it was eventually placed on the rood screen even though it was rather small for such a position. What survives of the figure is the torso and head, both arms and the right foot. Both arms are damaged and at least one is probably a replacement. The head has long hair and a sketchily-indicated crown of thorns. The face is thin and drawn, though its appearance of emaciation is exaggerated by the fact that the hair and beard on the left side have decayed. However, the expression is serene and the head is only slightly inclined to the right shoulder. This is not the victorious Christ of early iconography: but nor is it the agonised Christ of the later medieval tradition. All that remains of the much smaller figure from Mochdre (Mont) is the head and torso and the upper part of the legs. By contrast with the Kemeys Christ, the Mochdre figure is carved in a much more expressive and emotional style. This is Christ in his death agony, his head hanging almost to his chest, his eyes closed and his lips parted in what could be the final cry of anguish. The ribs are carved in deep relief and his whole posture is contorted, with knees raised and what remains of the leg twisted. The poetry to the great roods of Brecon, Llangynwyd, Chester and elsewhere likewise concentrates on the intensity of the suffering they portray (Williams, G., 1976, 478-9 and references therein). We know from poetic evidence of further rood carvings at Llanfaes, Bangor and Tremeirchion, and possibly at Rhuddlan (though see below) (Williams, G., 1976, 479-80; Jones 1912, 316). Finally, there are the carved panels depicting Christ, Mary and John from the rood screen at Betws Gwerful Goch (Meir: plate 4): but this is not strictly speaking a Crucifixion scene.

over suffering, and Jeremiah, who wept over the sinful condition of Jerusalem - were often shown as grieving seated figures. Job was described in the book devoted to his experiences in the Bible as sitting on a dunghill. Jeremiah sat outside the city of Jerusalem, lamenting 'Behold and see if there be any sorrow like unto my sorrow', words which have often been used to prefigure Christ's grief (Pickering 1970, 109-2; Schiller 1972 vol 2, 85-6; Gill, forthcoming). The Betws Gwerful Goch figure is crudely but powerfully carved and was almost certainly of local manufacture. It is so worn as to make a detailed description difficult, but it is clearly the seated Christ. It now fills the central panel of a group of five, flanked by St John the Evangelist and the Virgin Mary and two panels depicting the Instruments of the Passion. The 'Mostyn Christ' came from Gloddaeth (Denb) via Mostyn Hall to Bangor and the tradition at Gloddaeth was that it had originally come from the nearby Maenan Abbey. This can probably be discounted as an example of the Welsh tendency to assume that any examples of high artistic standards in our churches are monastic in origin. There is no evidence of a Bound Christ at Maenan. Reporting on the carving in Archaeologia Cambrensis, W.J. Hemp was more inclined to identify the figure with the 'ancient figure of the Crucifixion as bigg as the life ... shewn to none but the curious' which Dinely recorded in the parish church at Llanrwst in his Beaufort Progress in 1684. However, as Hemp himself observed, the Mostyn Christ could not have been the figure from the actual rood screen at Llanrwst. Apart from its iconographical inappropriateness, it has no sign of a peg and would in any case have been too large to be fixed to the surviving peg holes in the screen: though it may of course have come from elsewhere in the church (Hemp 1942-3, 231-2 and plates; 1944-5, 139-41). Enid Roberts suggested that the Mostyn Christ might have been the Blessed Christ of Rhuddlan, to which Gruffydd ab Ieuan ap Llywelyn Fychan wrote a poem in 1518. This statue was evidently another Bound Christ: Gruffydd describes it as drwm ei dolur/drwy waith Pei/at wrth pi/er ... Iesu fel ith rwymassan, 'heavy with grief/through the work of Pilate by a pillar ... Jesus as his captors had bound him' (Jones 1912, 309-10). There was no reference to the statue in the inventory of the contents of Rhuddlan Priory. However, Enid Roberts traced the history of the families who bought other items of the contents of the priory, including the recusant Mostyns of Creuddyn, their relatives by marriage the Puws of Penrhyn Creuddyn and the Mostyns of Gloddaeth. Her suggestion was that the Catholic branch of the Mostyn family could have hidden the statue then passed it for safe keeping to the Protestant branch. A similar carving of the Bound Christ with the Instruments of the Passion, but on an alabaster panel rather than as a wooden statue, was found in two pieces under the floor at Plas y Pentre near Llangollen in 1834. Plas y Pentre was a grange of Valle Crucis, and it is possible that that this panel and another panel found with it, depicting St Armel (or Armagillus), came from the abbey and were hidden by the Edwards family, who were recusants and

The Sessio or Bound Christ The late medieval focus on Christ's sufferings spiralled out from the Crucifixion to encompass separate devotional contemplation of each of the stages leading up to it. The 'Mostyn Christ' in Bangor Cathedral (plate 3b) and the carving now forming an altar reredos but assumed to have been part of the panelling of the rood screen at at Bettws Gwerful Goch (Meir) are not strictly speaking crucifixes but depictions of the Sessio, the 'Bound Christ' or 'Christ's Last Rest', also known as 'Christ in Distress' - Christ bound and seated in front of the cross, immediately before the crucifixion. This was popular in Continental carvings and paintings of the period and may have developed from a fusion of the image of the crucified Christ with the suffering Old Testament figures who were regarded as his prototypes. These - figures such as Job, who triumphed

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Images of Pity: the iconography of the crucified Christ

held Plas y Pentre from the mid sixteenth century. However, Ifor Edwards has suggested, by analogy with Enid Roberts' account of the Mostyn Christ, that the panels had come to Plas y Pentre from the Edwards family's former home at Plas Newydd near Chirk and may have formed part of a private altar table (Edwards 1992). This suggestion remains unproven but is particularly interesting as a survival from private as well as parochial devotion to the suffering Christ. Both panels were moved to London by clerical sons of the Plas y Pentre family in the early years of this century; the Bound Christ was taken to Whitton church in Middlesex, where it was fixed in the chancel arch. Edwards suggested (1992, 86-7) that the iconography of the Plas y Pentre and Mostyn panels could be derived from the cult of the Bound Christ of the Pays Mosan and the region around Gembloux, Beauvais, Troyes and Tournai and that they could have been copied from specific continental examples. Doubt is however cast on this hypothesis by the existence of another Welsh example of the type at Llandeilo Talybont (Glam: plate 32b), as well as the one nearer to hand at Betws Gwerful Goch (Meir). The Llandeilo Bound Christ is a wall painting, part of a sequence of devotional images of Christ's suffering and triumph which will be discussed more fully later (below, pp 48-50). There are some intriguing differences with the north Wales tradition. The upper part of the body of the Llandeilo wall painting is faded and damaged, but from what can be seen the expression on the face is tranquil rather than anguished. Unlike the Mostyn Christ, which has his arms bound behind his back, this figure has his hands clasped in his lap. However, the lower part of the body is almost identical in design with the carving at Bangor, down to the knotting of the rope around Christ's ankles, though the skull beneath his feet (which makes it clear that this is Christ at Golgotha) is in a slightly different position. There is also another possible example of a Bound Christ nearer to Plas y Pentre and Rhuddlan. The fragments of medieval stained glass in the western window in the south wall at Mold (Flint) include, as well as the Annunciation and the Virgin Mary from the Crucifixion, the head of a bearded man with a sorrowful expression. It cannot be from a Crucifixion, as the head inclines to its left. It is however remarkably similar to the heads of the Bound Christs at Troyes and Tongres, illustrated in Edwards' article (Edwards 1992, 71 ).

Santa Croce in Gerusalemme in Rome, he had a vision of Christ seated or standing on his tomb, displaying his wounds and surrounded by the Instruments of the Passion. The legend is thought to derive from an early medieval Byzantine icon in the church of Santa Croce, but this did not become a popular object of pilgrimage until the later medieval period. Copies of it spread across Europe in the fourteenth century, from Italy to France and then to England and Wales. An increasingly generous series of indulgences was offered by successive Popes to those repeating set sequences of prayers - typically, five Paternosters, five Aves and a Creed - before a copy of the image. This image is perhaps the epitome of late medieval mystical piety, focused not on the narrative of the Crucifixion story but on the contemplation of its devotional image of redemptive suffering, the suffering which the observer was urged to imitate and share as well as to pity. The name itself is multivalent. Strictly translated, the medieval Latin description, Imago Pietatis, means 'image of mercy'. In late medieval England and Germany, however, it was also translated as 'Image of Pity', Ebarmdebild - both Christ's pity for sinful humanity and the pity we should feel for his sufferings. In the 1470s Alice Chester gave the Jesus altar in the church of All Saints Bristol an altar-piece depicting this image, 'our Lord rising out of the sepulchre, sometimes called Our Lord's Pity' (Duffy 1992, 109). The image could also be described as the 'Man of Sorrows', in an obvious reference to the prophecy in Isaiah 53 .3 (Schiller 1972 vol 2, 197228; Duffy 1992, 106-9). The ambiguity in the translation of the name reflects the inescapable ambivalence of the image. Christ's expression is normally sorrowful, even reproachful, and he points to his wounds as the signs of his sufferings because of human sin. However, the image is also one of mercy: the wounds offer the hope of salvation. Similar depictions appear with the Instruments of the Passion as carvings on the tombs of two medieval bishops in the north choir aisle of Llandaff Cathedral. One is on a plaque affixed to the east end of the free-standing tomb of John Marshall (bishop 1478-1496), but appears to have been placed there after the construction of the tomb. The other is an integral part of the arch over a niche in the north wall which now contains the effigy of a thirteenth-century bishop but is traditionally described as the tomb of Dyfrig, a fifth-century saint and putative founder of the diocese. The plaque on the Marshall tomb depicts the Image of Pity surrounded by the Instruments of the Passion, but on the niche in the north wall the Instruments are on a separate shield-shaped plaque affixed to the back of the niche. In the present arrangement, therefore, the bishop's effigy gazes past the symbolic representation of Christ's sacrifice to the image of his risen body, wounded as a sign of salvation. If this was the original arrangement, we would have in south Wales a remarkable anticipation of an iconographic device which was barely known in the Western church outside Rome until the fourteenth century. Unfortunately for such speculations, we have no reason to suppose that

The Man of Sorrows or Image of Pity A fragment of stained glass formerly in the little church at Llangystennin (Caerns) but now taken for safety to the safe of a larger church (plate 50a) depicts Christ as the Man of Sorrows (otherwise known as the Image of Pity), rising from the tomb and displaying his wounds (and not the Resurrection as claimed by Mostyn Lewis: 1970, 66). This devotional image derived ultimately from the legend of the Mass of St Gregory. According to this story, while Gregory the Great was celebrating Mass in the church of

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Images of Piety

this was in fact the original arrangement. The Image of Pity is obviously an integral part of the niche: a fault in the stone runs through both the carving and the vaulting of the arch. However, the effigies in Llandaff Cathedral are known to have been relocated several times during the lengthy period of neglect of the building in the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries and the comprehensive restorations of the nineteenth and twentieth. We cannot therefore draw any conclusions about the date of the Image of Pity from the date of the effigy which now lies underneath it. What we can say is that this example of the Image of Pity was originally conceived as part of a tomb and positioned so that the effigy on the tomb would seem to gaze at it: it is therefore intended to inspire not guilt and reproach but hope and comfort. John Morgan-Guy has suggested (in a paper read to the Welsh Religious History Society at Trefecca in May 2000) that the Betws Gwerful Goch Christ is not a Bound Christ but an Image of Pity, possibly because of the surrounding panels with the Instruments of the Passion. John and Mary do appear as attendant figures in continental depictions of the Image of Pity, though usually in those in which they actually help to support Christ's body (Schiller 1972 vol 2). However, the Betws figure with its ECCE HOMO superscription and the posture of the cloaked figure looks more like the other Welsh depictions of the Bound Christ. The traditional Image of Pity is normally depicted as a standing figure - though there are seated examples, and I suggest below (p 49) that the seated Christ on the south wall at Llandeilo Talybont may be an Image of Pity and not the Entombment.

dominated the western part of the north nave wall (Reiss 2000, 74-5 and colour plate II). The surviving part of the Skenfrith figure is 7 feet (210 cm) high, but if the original went up any appreciable distance towards the apex of the arch it could have been as much as 12 feet (360 cm) tall. These representations have in the past been interpreted as a blessing on the crafts of the district (the 'Christ of the Trades'). Athene Reiss has however argued convincingly for interpreting them as a a warning against Sabbathbreaking: the craft instruments, used on the Sabbath, recrucify Christ (Reiss 2000, passim). Sabbatarianism is sometimes viewed as a primarily post-Reformation phenomenon, but there are plenty of medieval examples, from Wales as well as from elsewhere in Europe, of warnings against sabbath-breaking (Schiller 1972 vol 2, 204-5, 226 for examples from continental Europe). Gerald of Wales recorded the celebrations of the feast day of St Eluned at the church dedicated to her near Brecon. Young men and maidens danced around the graveyard in a trancelike state, miming the work which they had done on the sabbath contrary to the commandments. They were then led into the church, where they made their offerings and woke from their trance knowing they had been absolved and pardoned (Gerald of Wales 1978, 92-3: I am grateful to Anna Gallego for this reference). The Welsh collection of devotional texts known as the 'Book of the Anchorite of Llanddewibrefi' included a Welsh version of the 'Sunday Letter' or 'Epistle of Jesus', which purported to be a letter from Christ himself. warning people of the need to keep the Sabbath in order to avoid the wrath of the Day of Judgement. This text was included in several manuscript versions of parts of the 'Book of the Anchorite' (Foster 1950, 206). The iconography of this image of Christ surrounded with craft implements, which Athene Reiss has designated the 'Sunday Christ', has no obvious source. Visual depictions of the Third Commandment do not take this form. The depiction of Christ at the centre of the paintings, alive but displaying his wounds, has broad similarities with the iconography of the Man of Sorrows or Image of Pity. The craft implements surrounding him are reminiscent of (and can sometimes be confused with) the Instruments of the Passion, the more or less stylised depiction of the implements used to wound and crucify Christ. At Llanblethian (Glam), a wall painting including cinquefoils, a mattock, a saw and a sword, all dripping blood, was discovered on the north wall of the nave during restoration at the end of the last century. The plaster was then removed and the painting destroyed (Orrin 1988, 17980). Orrin identified the mattock as a scourge and suggested that this was a painting of the Instruments of the Passion. However, the saw and the sword are not normally part of the Instruments sequence, so it is more likely that this too was all that remained (or all that was found) of a Sunday Christ. The blood on the implements is an unusual feature. The figure of Christ is often depicted as wounded, and red lines sometimes flow from the craft implements to Christ's body. However, the blood dripping from the implements suggests a more complex scheme, conflating the craft implements and the Instruments of the Passion

The 'Sunday Christ' With some of the depictions of the wounded Christ, the overt emphasis is firmly on the moral implications of the iconography. Sermons encouraged worshippers to look at these representations of Christ's suffering body and consider how it had been wounded for their sins. In a Passion Sunday sermon which was subsequently translated into Welsh, the border priest John Mirk quoted the lamentation which Bernard of Clairvaux put into Christ's mouth, pointing to his wounds and contrasting them with the selfish behaviour of his audience. The same argument also appears in visual form: Christ's wounded body is depicted on wall pamtmgs, surrounded by craft implements. A virtually complete but damaged version of this image appears at Llangybi (Mon), on the north wall of the chancel. Fragmentary depictions of the same scene have been identified at Gumfreston (Pembs), at the western end of the north nave wall, and at Skenfrith (Mon) over the arch at the east end of the south aisle. These images were all at one time impressive in their scale and the vividness of their execution.The Llangybi figure is eight feet (240 cm) high and would have been taller before it was damaged during repairs to the roof. All that is now visible of the Gumfreston figure is the feet and lower legs with some of the craft implements. In its original glory, however, it would have been 9½ feet (270 cm) high. With a width of 10 feet (300 cm) it would have

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Images of Pity: the iconography of the crucified Christ

and making it abundantly clear that craft implements used on a Sunday or holy day wounded Christ as the Instruments of the Passion had done. The representation of Christ surrounded with craft implements was thus primarily a moral or instructional image, and one whose power was based on the ability of the depiction of Christ's wounded body to provoke feelings of grief and guilt. But even this reproachful image could inspire positive feelings and become the focus of devotional practices. Reiss quotes a number of wills leaving money for lights and banner cloths before 'St Sunday' or asking to be buried near the image. The welldocumented church of St Morebath (Devon) had a separate store of property and endowments belonging to 'St Sunday', suggesting an active devotional cult (Reiss 2000, 18-21). If she is correct in her identification of 'St Sunday' with the depiction of Christ surrounded by craft implements, this is an indication of the flexibility and resourcefulness of late medieval piety, which was apparently able to renegotiate the significance of visual imagery and convert an uncomfortable moralising image into a focus for comforting devotional practices.

1924, 236; Jones 1912, 558; cf Schiller 1972 vol 2, 122-4). Even in the depictions of the Doom, the Last Judgement, normally painted on the chancel arch or rood tympanum (as in the surviving example at Wrexham, Denb: plate 67), the focus is on Christ's suffering body. He sits robed for judgement, but still displaying his wounds. The Five Wounds

So intense was the focus on the suffering body of Christ as an object of devotion that it came to be represented simply as a catalogue of wounds. The devotional enumeration of Christ's wounds appears in some of the poems already mentioned - to the roods at Brecon (Lewis et al 1925, 230; Jones 1912, 303) and Llanbeblig (Jones 1912, 558) - and can be traced in its fullest form in the fifteen prayers to Christ's wounds, the 'Fifteen Oes' (named because each prayer begins with an invocation) attributed to St Brigid of Sweden and translated into Welsh by the end of the fifteenth century. Iorwerth Fynglwyd referred to these prayers in passing in a poem in praise of the Irish/Welsh St Brigid, whose statue still survives at St Bride's Major in the Vale of Glamorgan (Roberts 1954-6, 254-68; Breeze 1985, 84-91 and references therein; Rowlands 1982, 1-19). The implication of his oblique reference to the 'fifteen prayers' is that they were expected to be well known to the poem's hearers and should have needed no explanation. These devotions derive from the story of the woman 'solitary and recluse' who saw Christ in a vision and was told by him that the number of his wounds - from scourge, thorns, nails and spear - equalled the number of fifteen Paternosters said daily for a year. An increasingly extravagant series of indulgences was offered to those repeating the Paternoster in this way (Duffy 1992, 249-56). A vivid depiction of the Flagellation of Christ on the pulpit at Newton Nottage (Glam) may relate to this cult. Christ is shown crowned with thorns. Two figures are tying his feet to a pillar and preparing to whip him. The eucharistic implications of his wounds and the fifteen prayers are suggested by the vine trail which surmounts the figures. The pulpit is assumed to be late medieval but the figure of Christ is strangely impassive. He stands upright, looking at the viewer with an almost triumphant gaze, in complete contrast to the suffering Christs of European depictions of the same scene. However, the visual depiction of the wounds is generally limited to five, the pierced hands, feet and side. Their fragmented and dismembered representation appears on quasi-heraldic shields in stained glass at Llanelidan and in the Trevor chapel in Gresford Church (both Denbs ), on the rood screen at Llanengan (Caerns: plate 41a) and the roof at Llanidloes (Mont) and the panels of wooden chests at Coety (Glam: plates 8-10) and Bedwellty (Mon). Interspersed with secular heraldic shields and other devices, they accompany the Instruments of the Passion on the late medieval panelling now at Cefn Tilla (Mon). The was traditionally believed to have come from the priory at Usk but John Morgan-Guy has recently suggested (pers.

The Pieta

Perhaps the most moving of all depictions of the wounded Christ, and certainly the one which most strongly emphasised his humanity, was the pieta, the image of Christ's dead body in his mother's arms. If the representation of the Virgin Mary's presence at the Crucifixion was intended to encourage the viewer to identify with and share her grief, the pieta suggests an even more tactile approach to the mental contemplation of Christ's broken and bleeding flesh. The one certain surviving Welsh example of the pieta, carved on the east face of the churchyard cross at Llan-gan in the Vale of Glamorgan (plate 4 7), makes explicit the eucharistic resonance of Christ's wounded body. Mary's skirts are spread out to resemble an altar on which Christ lies virtually horizontally, his head only slightly raised on her right arm. Other depictions of the wounded Christ

There were other depictions of Christ in late medieval religious art which were not necessarily connected with the Crucifixion narrative but which could be used to emphasise the human, suffering aspect of his nature, in conjunction with the divine. The medieval Trinity normally depicts not Christ in majesty but God the Father with the crucified Christ in his arms. There are several surviving examples of this in Wales, in stained glass at Llanfechell (Ang) and Llanrhychwyn (Caerns: plate 55a) and on the seal of the cordwainers' and grocers' guild of Cardiff, which met in the Trinity chapel of St John's Church (Williams 1993, 23, 43: photograph on p 87). There are also references in poetry to a similar depiction of the Trinity on the now-destroyed rood screen at Llanbeblig (Caerns) (Crossley 1944, 93, quoting Hughes and North

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Images of Piety

comm.: see the forthcoming early modern volume in the Visual Arts in Wales series) that it can be identified with the panelling from the great hall at Raglan Castle. A secular provenance for this series of largely secular heraldic achievements is perhaps more likely but makes it even more significant that the depiction of Christ's suffering was considered an appropriate part of such an assemblage. There is a tension here between the prayers and meditations on the battered and pitiful body of a dying man and the presentation of the wounds as an armorial, a shield against the assaults of the devil.

large for a Crown of Thorns and may be merely a border. However, the grapes make frequent appearances in other contexts, notably in the vine trails on the beams typical of Welsh rood screens. They also appear in another commonplace of late medieval religious art, the Tree of Jesse, the visual representation of Christ's descent from the house of David and the fulfilment of the prophecy in Isaiah ch 11, 'There shall come forth a rod out of the stem of Jesse, and a branch shall grow out of his roots ... '. This is magnificently delineated in stained glass at Llanrhaiadryng-Nghinmeirch (Denbs: plates 51-54) and Diserth (Flints) and on a smaller scale at Gresford, in stone on niches at Llantwit Major (Glam: plate 57) and Mold (Flints) and in wood in the great surviving figure of Jesse at Abergavenny (Mon) (plate 2b). Churchyard's chorographic poem The Worthines of Wales described another Jesse window, over the high altar at Rhiwabon (Denb ), but this has completely disappeared. The 'branch' is commonly depicted as a grape vine with prominent bunches of grapes, and Ayers has suggested that the grapes in the Jesse tree are iconographically connected with the image of Christ as the true vine and the wine of the Eucharist (Ayers 1996, 259-69). Even the chalice and paten can become part of the Instruments of the Passion sequence: they are frequently depicted in English and European cycles and appear on a shield borne by an angel at the climax of the sequence of roof corbels at Mold. The cult of the Instruments of the Passion in the western church can be traced in part to the discovery or migration of its relics. The massive relic collections of the great basilica of Haghia Sophia and the other churches of Byzantium had come to the west as part of the plunder from the Fourth Crusade. The Crown of Thorns and part of the True Cross had already been pawned to the Venetians. They ended their travels in the 1240s in France, where St Louis built the Sainte-Chapelle to house them. The device of the Cross and Crown of Thorns is represented by another angel at Llangollen (plate 49b) and by a separate panel in the tracery at Llanrwst (plate 56a), and in fragments of stained glass at Llanwnnog (Mont). The column of the Flagellation was recorded as early as 334, standing in what were claimed to be the ruins of the house of Caiaphas in Jerusalem. It was subsequently said to have been moved by a miracle to the church of the Holy Sepulchre, but the church of San Zenone in Rome also lays claim to it. A porphyry column formerly in the Lateran basilica in Rome but now lost was believed in the seventeenth century to be the pillar from which the cockerel crowed. It was said to have been placed in the papal church and surmounted with a bronze cockerel to remind the popes to be forgiving in view of the sin of their predecessor. Callisen traced its origin to pre-Christian cults and identified a series of medieval depictions of Peter's betrayal in which the column is also identified with the column of the Flagellation (Callisen 1939, 160-78. I owe much of the information in these paragraphs to discussion on the medieval-religion mailbase list, archived on the web at http://www.mailbase.ac. uk/lists/medieval-religion/199905/html).

The Instruments of the Passion Like the martyred saints whose suffering was reflected in their identifying attributes, Christ's wounded body could also be represented by the instruments of its suffering. These appear as reinforcing images on the rood screens at Bettws Gwerful Goch (plate 4) and Llanrwst (plate 56a) and on the Plas y Pentre panel, in the diapering behind the rood at Llantwit Major (Glam), on canopies of honour and fonts and in the stained glass at Llanelidan. On the chancel arch at Wrexham (Denbs: plate 67) they reinforce the redemptive message of the Doom. However, like the Five Wounds, the Instruments are most frequently seen on shields as the 'Arma Christi', interspersed with secular coats of arms on roofs and windows. This may originally have been connected with the image of Christ as a knight and with prayers for his protection (Evans, M., 1982, 26: I am grateful to Miriam Gill for this reference), and it certainly stressed his royalty and power. However, from being a symbol of Christ's triumph over death in the Christus Victor tradition, the Instruments ultimately became part of the tradition of affective contemplation of the Passion. The blazoning of the signs and instruments of redemption alongside the coats of arms of the rulers of lay society does not however create any sense of conflict between secular and sacred images. The sequences of shields incorporate the centrality of Christ's sacrifice into human power structures, validating rather than replacing them. At their simplest, the instruments depicted are those of the crucifixion itself, the cross, the hammer, pincers and nails, the lance and the Crown of Thorns. However, more detailed schemes included the other instruments of Christ's suffering: the ladder and sponge from the Crucifixion, the pillar and scourge of the Flagellation, the dice and shakers used to divide his clothing, the lanterns from his arrest and the cockerel, symbol of Peter's betrayal (sitting on the pillar in the roof at Llangollen and in the tracery of the rood screen at Llanrwst: plate 56a). Some ofthe most elaborate schemes included depictions of episodes in the Crucifixion narrative - hands striking Christ or pulling his hair, faces spitting at him - but these are rare in Wales. A badly faded and damaged wall painting on the east wall of the chancel at Llanfrynach in the Vale of Glamorgan has been interpreted (most recently by Newman: 1995, 382) as a crown of thorns surrounding a bunch of grapes, another potent symbol of Christ's sacrifice. The 'crown' is little more than a faint circle of two twisted lines; it is unusually

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Images of Pity: the iconography of the crucified Christ

Even the wood of the cross itself could have a symbolic significance. The crosses in the stained glass windows of north Wales are in the tradition of the hewn timber crosses, with obvious graining and knots. This links them with the trees in the Vision of Seth and the History of the True Cross, mystically prefigured by the Tree of Life in Eden, growing from a shoot or seed of the Tree of Knowledge of Good and Evil and planted on Adam's grave. This tree of death becomes part of the Cross and is transformed into a tree of life when its barren timbers briefly burst into leaf then die again. This in turn has resonances of Christ's warning in Luke 23.31: 'if they do these things in a green tree, what shall be done in a dry?' The Good Friday liturgy venerated the actual lignum Crucis. As the crucifix was unveiled, the priest sang three times 'Behold the wood of the cross, on which hung the saviour of the world. Come, let us worship'. Clergy and parishioners then crawled barefoot to kiss the foot of the crucifix. Witnesses of the True Cross claimed its knots exuded a healing liquid like oil (O'Reilly 1987, 156). The Welsh poets who went on pilgrimage to Rome in the fifteenth century all commented on the relics that they saw there, including, as well as the pillar, nine thorns from the Crown of Thorns, the sponge, and a piece of the True Cross (Harries 1953, 83-5 for Huw Cae Llwyd; Jones 1912, 186 for Llywelyn ap Hywel ab Ieuan ap Gronw and 223-6 for Robin Ddu). It is perhaps surprising that no certain visual representation survives in Wales of the one relic mentioned by virtually all the poets who visited Rome, the Vernicle, described by Robert Leiaf as 'a picture of Christ's face made by his own sweat (Jones 1912, 183-4)'. The Cistercian abbey at Cwm-hir (Rads) had a miraculous picture of Christ which sounds from poetic descriptions very much like a vernicle but this was lost at the Dissolution (Williams 1976). The female saint directly above the Pieta on the churchyard cross at Llangan (Glam: plate 47) appears to be holding out a draped cloth which might be a vernicle, but the folds would make it impossible to depict the actual face. It is however too badly worn for secure identification. The Welsh visual imagery is in most cases strongly focused on the instruments which actually caused Christ's wounds, and only rarely (as in the wall paintings at Llandeilo Talybont: plate 32a) do we see depictions of the wider definition of instruments such as the spitting heads. The history of Longinius's spear, one of the most frequently depicted instruments, was even more tangled than that of the other relics of the Crucifixion. There was one candidate at Byzantium, one was discovered at Antioch during the First Crusade, one was at St Peter's in Rome by the 16th century but others were in Basle and Nuremberg. The cult of Longinius's spear was closely connected with that of the Holy Grail, believed to have been used by Christ at the Last Supper and by Joseph of Arimathea to collect the blood and water which flowed from Christ's side when it was pierced by the spear. It thus became identified iconographically with the chalice of the eucharist. Wales had its own claimant for the Grail in the cup kept at Strata Florida, but the greatest of Welsh relics,

the Croes Naid, a fragment of the True Cross, had been taken by Edward I as a symbol of the final overthrow of the princes of Gwynedd. The iconography of the Instruments of the Passion thus owes a great deal to beliefs about their survival. However, the popularity of the cult must itself be explained by reference to the increasingly intense devotion of the later medieval period to the suffering Christ. Each of the instruments of the Passion represented a different stage or aspect of Christ's suffering and had associated with it a sequence of devotional prayers. Devotion to the instruments which caused that suffering seems paradoxical at first, but must be seen in the light of the belief that the suffering was the means of spiritual healing. In the same way, medieval saints are typically depicted with (and often identified by) the instruments of their martyrdoms - Agatha and Apollonia with their pincers, Catherine with her wheel, the apostles with their crosses, swords and saws - as signs not of suffering but of triumph. Symbolic representations of Christ

The crucified body of Christ could also be represented emblematically. The image of the Lamb of God, the Agnus Dei, was familiar from the liturgy and drew ultimately on the parallels between Christ's sacrifice and the sacrificial lamb of the Jewish Passover. The device of the Agnus Dei, the lamb bearing a banner with the Cross, appears in a variety of contexts. Like the Five Wounds and the Instruments of the Passion, it is carved on corbels at Wrexham (Denb); it accompanies the Instruments of the Passion on the rood screen at Llanrwst (Denb, plate 56a: on the iconography of the Agnus Dei and its relationship to Christ's sacrificial death see Schiller 1972 vol 2, 117-21). A late seventeenth-century bench at Llanfihangel Y sceifiog (Ang) incorporates what appears to be a reused medieval panel carved with the Agnus Dei (RCAHM 1937, 84). Care needs to be exercised in dating this panel, however; it is obviously older than the bench, but the emblem of the Lamb and Flag occurs in post-Reformation contexts (as in the gable stone of the Llanrwst almshouses, dated 1610: Thomas 1874, 562). An even richer and more powerful symbol of Christ's sacrifice was the pelican, shown wounding her own breast to revive and feed her young. This image surmounts the Jesse window at Llanrhaiadr (Denbs: plate 54) and the niche to the north of the chancel window in Mold which once held a statue of the Virgin and Child. It can also be found on the one remaining bench end from the stalls at Hawarden (Flint). The image of the pelican was more than a straightforward symbol of suffering. According to medieval medical theory, breast milk was itself a form of blood adapted for the nourishment of the young (Atkinson 1991, 58-9). What the pelican was doing was therefore an extreme example of sacrificial breastfeeding. It can thus be compared not only with Christ's sacrifice on the cross but with numerous examples of mystical imagery from Bernard of Clairvaux onwards which describe Christ as

47

Images of Piety

feeding the soul with milk from his breasts as well as with blood (Bynum 1982, 117-23; Ross 1997, 49-51).

Sioned Hughes of the Museum of Welsh Life for making reproductions of these paintings available, and to them and to Dr Anthony Parkinson of the Royal Commission and Miriam Gill for valuable discussions about their history and significance). Here a number of sequences of wall paintings have been identified, the third or fourth of which is a late medieval narrative of the Crucifixion. On the north wall of the nave, the most westerly image is an angel bearing a shield with the emblem of the Nails. Over the north window, two grotesque heads are spitting at Christ (plate 32a). This dramatic image, one of the best preserved in the church, depicts the episode described in the synoptic gospels in which the chief priests find Christ guilty of blasphemy

Origins of the cult of the suffering Christ

The intensity of this concentration on the physicality of the wounded and suffering body and on the detail of the Crucifixion narrative has been seen (by Huizinga, among others) as at best a matter of over-emotionalism and at worst as almost pathological. The level of affective piety involved cannot be denied, but we are also witnessing a profound intellectual shift in Christological emphasis from Christ-as-God to Christ-as-man. The nature of this shift can best be appreciated by comparing early depictions of the Crucifixion - notably those on Early Christian monuments such as the cross at Llan-gan in the Vale of Glamorgan but represented as late as the thirteenth century in the cross at Cwm-iou (Mon) - with later examples from stained glass and rood figures. The earlier depictions are emphatically Christus victor, the ruling Christ in triumph on the cross (and even crowned, as in the Cwm-iou example: for a discussion see Lewis 2000); the later versions are, as we have seen, Christus patiens, the wounded and broken Christ at his most human (though see Schiller 1972 vol 2, 96 ff on earlier Byzantine and Carolingian examples of the suffering Christ and the controversy over the Monophysite heresy). This christological shift was initiated by St Anselm as early as the late 11th century in an attempt to redress the focus of a spirituality which overemphasised (as he saw it) the divine side of Christ's nature. This was always a difficult balancing act for systematic medieval theologians - Christ as fully god, fully man - and Anselm's intention was clearly only to rectify the balance. The whole thrust of his Cur Deus Homo is that only God and man can make satisfaction for sin (on Anselm's Christology and soteriology see e.g. Hopkins 1972, 187-212). His emphasis was however taken up and developed by other monastic theologians, notably Bernard of Clairvaux and St Francis, and reflected in the increased popularity of the devotion of the Five Wounds in a monastic context (Rubin 1991, 3026; Duffy 1992, 19, 118-23). The spread of these ideas through the church outside the cloister may be connected with the spread of other aspects of monastic devotion such as the recitation of the monastic hours and the practice of contemplative spirituality in the world, though it does not necessarly imply the privatization of devotion: there was nothing more visible to the whole church than the rood, nothing more public than the adoration of the Host, nothing more involving of the whole community than the annual Corpus Christi celebrations and the ceremonies surrounding the Easter sepulchre.

then did they spit in his face, and buffeted him; and others smote him with the palms of their hands, saying 'Prophesy unto us, thou Christ. Who is it that smote thee? (Matthew 26, 67-68)

The account in Luke describes Christ as being blindfolded, and this is perhaps implied in the crude guessing game in the Matthew account. It is certainly the way in which Christ is depicted in the only surviving Welsh Crucifixion play (Jones 1939). In the Llandeilo Talybont wall painting, however, Christ's eyes are unobscured so that he can engage with the viewer. His tormentors are represented in profile as hideous grotesques. Thick spittle streams from their mouths and runs down Christ's face and shoulders. Unlike the other two figures, Christ is depicted full face, looking out at the viewer with an expression of sorrow and compassion. What this image evokes is not so much the third-person description of the suffering servant in Isaiah 53: ...he was wounded for our transgressions, he was bruised for our iniquities: the chastisement of our peace was upon him; and with his stripes we are healed ... He was oppressed, and he was afflicted, yet he opened not his mouth; he is brought as a lamb to the slaughter, and as a sheep before her shearers is dumb, so he openeth not his mouth.

This passage would have been familiar to devout parishioners as part of the liturgy for the Wednesday before Maundy Thursday. However, the wall painting with its direct gaze is nearer to the first-person claim of Isaiah 50, almost as familiar from the liturgy of the Monday of Holy Week: I gave my back to the smiters, and my cheeks to them that plucked off the hair; I hid not my face from shame and spitting.

(I am grateful to John Morgan-Guy for these references and for an illuminating discussion of the wall painting, though our conclusions are somewhat different.) Further to the east again, and obscured by a later window but still recognizable, is a Christ in Majesty. This does not at first appear to belong to the same sequence as the Crucifixion story, but is stylistically of the same date.

Case study: the Llandeilo Talybont wall paintings

The development of later medieval thought about Christ's Passion can be traced in some detail in the remarkable series of wall paintings from Llandeilo Tal-y-bont in West Glamorgan, now awaiting display at the Museum of Welsh Life in St Fagan's (I am grateful to Dr Gerallt Nash and

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Images of Pity: the iconography of the crucified Christ

There may have been other paintings further to the west, but they are now unidentifiable. Over the chancel arch is a scene which has been conjecturally identified as a Crucifixion, overlying a diapering of floral motifs in red similar to the diapering which formed a background to the rood at Llanbedr Y strad Yw (Bree) (Haslam 1979, 327). This in turn overlies fragmentary traces of two earlier designs. The east wall of the south aisle has to the north of the window a fourteenthcentury St Catherine: this may have had over it another painting in the Crucifixion sequence, but no trace of this now remains. South of the window is another representation of the Bound Christ, seated in front of the cross (plate 32b ). This last has been touched up and repainted at least once, though its iconographic content is unchanged. There is evidence of some confusion in the inscription Ecce Homo over this painting. This is the inscription which normally belongs to depictions of the episode in which Pilate shows Christ to the crowd and asks whom he shall pardon. However, the identity of the painting is clear, and the inscription may reflect traditional usage: the carved panel of the Bound Christ at Betws Gwerful Goch (plate 4) has the same inscription. The use of an inscription from one part of the gospel narrative to describe another episode makes it clear that what we are looking at, in the wall paintings as well as the carvings, is not so much a narrative as a series of devotional images for affective contemplation. This impression is reinforced, at Llandeilo as at Betws, by the proleptic depiction of the Instruments of the Passion around the figure. The upper part of the Bettws Bound Christ is damaged and it is difficult to identify the direction of his gaze. It seems likely, though, from other examples, such as the Mostyn Christ at Bangor, that he is depicted slightly turned to the side, his eyes downcast or lookng away from the viewer. Here again we have a parallel with the Old Testament readings from the Holy Week liturgy. As the visual narrative moves nearer to the Crucifixion and Christ's suffering becomes more intense, so he withdraws his gaze from us for a while. Meanwhile, the readings from Isaiah move from the first to the third person, objectifying and describing the Suffering Servant rather than speaking with his voice. At Llandeilo, however, the figure of the Bound Christ is depicted with a sorrowful but tranquil expression and still looks directly at the viewer. On the south wall of the nave at Llandeilo, on the pier between the two arches, is a figure which has been identified as the dead Christ. The figure is seated but slumped, clothed in a loin-cloth, the head hanging and with drops of blood falling from the outflung left hand. On the westernmost pier is the Deposition from the Cross. Running parallel with the crucifixion and of the same date are a series of paintings of saints including St James the Great dressed as a pilgrim. The paintings are all similar in style, but with minute differences suggesting that several painters worked on the sequence. The whole series is pulled together by an inscription running below the pictures, and the sequence on the south wall of the nave appears to have continuous (or at

any rate similar) patterning underneath. However, the individual paintings on the south wall are out of sequence and the background is faint. It is therefore possible that we are looking at a sequence which has been built up over time as the thinking of clergy or parishioners developed. The oldest element (though it may only be older by a few years) seems to be the Bound Christ. This may have been painted as a companion for the Crucifixion over the chancel arch, and represents simple affective piety focussed on the human figure of the suffering Christ. A more determined attempt at a Christological statement comes with the easternmost figures on the north and south walls of the nave. The Christ in Majesty tilts the balance towards Christ-as-God, but is counterbalanced by the broken body of the dead Christ - Christ at his most profoundly human. This may then have been completed by a series of paintings (not all of which may have survived) telling the story of some of the events surrounding the Crucifixion and linking them with the cults of the Instruments of the Passion. It is even possible that we are looking at something more complex again. The identification of the eastern figure on the south wall of the nave as the dead Christ does raise problems. After the deposition from the cross, Christ is normally depicted as recumbent, in his mother's arms or on a slab for anointing and shrouding. The blood has ceased to flow from his wounds. Very occasionally, the dead Christ is shown seated but always supported - by Mary and the other mourners, by angels, or by God the Father in representations of the Trinity. A seated Christ unsupported and with blood still flowing from his wounds is perhaps more likely to be another version of the Image of Pity. This would make a more subtle and profound contrast with the Christ in Majesty and is yet another reminder that the iconology of medieval Welsh churches can display a high level of theological sophistication (Schiller 1972 vol 2, 168-84, 197-228). Llandeilo definitely had a rood screen: the access door to the loft survives, as do some corbels on the west face of the chancel arch. The crucifixion painted over the chancel arch may have backed this screen in the absence of a carved rood. However, it is also possible that there were carved figures, that the diapering was painted as a backdrop to them (as at Llanbedr), and that the painted crucifixion is later, from the reign of Queen Mary, when churches were expected to (and in Wales were probably ready to) reinstall their roods but lacked the means to commission carvings straight away. There is a comparable example at Llaneleu (Bree), where a cross has been painted on the tympanum of the rood screen (Crossley and Ridgway 1952, 66-8: illustration). There may also have been one or more stained glass windows taking up the theme of the crucifixion. The angel bearing the shield with the nails is in the west-facing reveal of a window and looks towards the window as if to draw attention to the subject of the glass. A similar angel is in the reveal of one of the windows in the south aisle. The thinking in the sequence at Llandeilo thus develops from simple devotion to Christ's sufferings, to a more balanced reflection on his identity, to a wider focus on the

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Images of Piety

episodes surrounding the redemptive sacrifice and their symbolic instruments. The graphic depiction of the Spitting could be part of a narrative sequence, but spitting heads are also found in the most complex representations of the Instruments of the Passion (I am grateful to Miriam Gill for drawing my attention to this and for discussion of the section on the Llandeilo paintings in her thesis: Gill, forthcoming). Like the 'Bound Christ', then, this picture is not so much telling the story as providing material for affective contemplation. And while the retelling of the story in the Welsh mystery play of the Passion focuses on the pathos of Christ's suffering, the sorrowful but steady gaze of the visual image presented here encourages a much deeper reflection on the significance of the redemptive sacrifice and the viewer's response to its challenge.

Longinius the blind spear-carrier, as well as Mary, St John, Joseph of Arimathea and Nicodemus (Jones 1939). Of these, only Mary, John and two of the soldiers appear in the surviving visual depictions. At Cilcain (Flint: plate 6) the standard flanking figures of the Virgin Mary and St John are also accompanied by St Peter and the Archangel Michael, but it is clear from the background that they are not seen as part of the Crucifixion scene. A vividly green Hill of Golgotha with a number of bones lies under the feet of Mary and John but is not continued under the feet of the saints. Indeed, as the figures of the flanking saints are larger than the central figures, it is likely that the window is a composite from two or more medieval schemes. At Llangadwaladr (Ang) a soldier stands with Mary and John, while the founder saint, Cadwaladr, appears beneath the cross (plate 42). In the Resurrection in the upper tracery, two soldiers are depicted fleeing from the scene. The now-lost rood screen at Brecon had the two thieves as well as Mary and John flanking the Crucifixion (RCAHMW 1994, 14). The reconstructed versions ofother windows incorporate saints - as at Llandyrnog, where the episcopal saints Asaph and David (not Deiniol, as Lewis claims) flank the Coronation of the Virgin in the upper lights and Saints Marcella,Winifred, Frideswide and Catherine stand in the upper part of the main lights, above the Crucifixion (plates 33-37). Unfortunately, there is no reason to suppose that this was the original arrangement. The heads of churchyard crosses usually include saints in some of the faces, but these are frequently too worn to be identifiable (plates 48, 65). However, the main (and often the only) focus is on the central image of the crucified Christ, and on the devotional image rather than the narrative of events. The east window at Llangadwaladr (Ang) has as its central panel an emaciated Christ hanging from a tau cross (plate 43). On either side, hovering and kneeling angels with chalices collect the blood which streams from his wounds. The impression of extreme emaciation is partly due to the fact that Christ's bones are visible as if in an xray. This image is a reference to Psalm 22, the 'crucifixion psalm' whose first line Christ quoted on the cross - 'My God, my God, why have you forsaken me' ...

The Crucifixion as narrative and devotional image

Crucifixion narratives can also be traced in the lost sequence of wall paintings at Llanwddyn, the only example we know of where a sequence of paintings told the narrative of the Crucifixion from the Last Supper onwards, rather than presenting isolated episodes as material for devotional meditation (Thomas 1874, 751). There may however have been a similar sequence in stained glass at Gresford. Here, unusually, a church with an extensive assemblage of late medieval stained glass does not have an obvious depiction of the Crucifixion. There is however a fragment in the lowest register of the south light in the east window of the Trevor chapel a fragmentary Flagellation which must at one time have been part of a Crucifixion sequence now lost (plate 25b). Wooden panels incorporated into a cupboard in the south transept of Brecon Cathedral include the Baptism of Christ and the Deposition from the Cross. These panels are traditionally said to have come from Neath Abbey and are a tantalising suggestion of a complete life cycle of Christ: none has survived elsewhere in Wales, though there was an image of the Risen Christ at Valle Crucis (Haslam 1979, 291; Williams, G., 1976, 355). The painting of the Ascension which Hubbard identified at Llanelian-yn-Rhos (Hubbard 1994, 202) is in fact Christ in judgement as part of the Doom sequence. The Flagellation is also represented on the pulpit at Newton Nottage (Glam), and it has been suggested that one of the faces of the churchyard cross at St Mary Hill (Glam) depicts the Embalming (plate 64; Newman 1995, 473; Orrin 1988, 390: though see below p 58-59). Elsewhere, the main focus in the visual material which has survived remains the actual crucifixion and Christ's wounds. In the main, Wales lacks the large-scale visual representations of the Crucifixion common in continental Europe, with numbers of attendant figures and compressed narrative sequences (Schiller 1972 vol 2, 149-58). The Crucifixion narrative appears regularly in literary sources, in poems and in one of the surviving Welsh mystery plays. Even here, though, the narrative is sparse by English and continental standards. The surviving Welsh Passion play has the standard four soldiers, two Jews and a bishop, the two thieves (here called Dismas and Desmas) and

I am poured out like water and all my bones are out of joint; my heart is like wax, it is melted within my breast; my strength is dried up like a potsherd, and my tongue cleaves to my jaws; thou dost lay me in the dust of death. Yea, dogs are round about me; a company of evildoers encircle me; they have pierced my hands and feet I can count all my bones they stare and gloat over me; they divide my gannents among them and for my raiment they cast lots.

This psalm would have been familiar as part of the Palm Sunday liturgy and from occasional sermons: John Mirk referred to it obliquely in his Good Friday sermon, one of

50

Images of Pity: the iconography of the crucified Christ

the ones for which a Welsh translation survives (Lewis 1923-4, 60. The Welsh 'translation' is in fact a free improvisation around Mirk's text at this point, with much more detail of Christ's sufferings)

from south Wales, but there is little evidence of Welsh pilgrimages there (Williams, G., 1991). The emphasis in the windows at Llangadwaladr, Llanwrin and Clocaenog (and arguably in the Welsh version of Mirk) is less on the blood as a focus for worship in its own right than on its sacramental qualities: the angels with their chalices link the Crucifixion with the Eucharist.

y roessant ef ar y groes mor anrygaroc ac y gellit addnabod pob kymal assgwm (They stretched him on the cross so mercilessly, and every joint of his bones could be known)

Crucifixion and benediction

and in his explanation of the symbolism of the Good Friday ritual, not in the surviving version of the Welsh translation (Erbe 1905, 126)

This theme is further developed in the Seven Sacrament window at Llandyrnog, the only surviving example of its kind in Wales (plates 37-39). The doctrine of the Seven Sacraments had been established by the twelfth century as one of the core doctrines of the church. John Mirk's manual of instruction for parish priests included a detailed discussion of the sacraments and advice on their administration, with an outline of what the priest should teach his parishioners on the subject (Kristensson 1974, 71-86; Foss 1989, 131-40). In the Llandyrnog window, five angels reflect the five wounds. Two have their hands raised in prayer and three hold chalices, but the chalices are empty. Instead, the streams of blood from Christ's wounds flow outwards to depictions of the seven sacraments of the church. Only three of the sacraments have survived more or less complete. In a panel on Christ's left, a bishop ordains a group of monks. Below this is a marriage ceremony with the officiating priest joining the hands of the couple. On Christ's right, a priest administers Extreme Unction. The rays of blood are missing from the panels depicting Marriage and Extreme Unction, but in the Ordination scene the red line reaches down to the ordaining bishop, who is shown with his hands raised over the kneeling ordinands. Immediately below the Crucifixion, an assemblage of fragments with a layman bending forward suggests Penance, though it has been confused with fragments from the separate sequence of the Apostles with their Creed. Below the Extreme Unction panel are fragments of a Eucharist, shown at the crucial moment of the elevation of the Host. The association of Christ's blood with eucharist penance and Extreme Unction is familiar, but the blessin~ of life events such as marriage and the birth and baptism of children by the Holy Blood introduces a new perspective on the medieval attitude to Christ's sufferings. This is further reflected in the carvings on the fonts at Wrexham (Denb), Bangor Is-coed (Flint) and Ceri (Mont: plate Sb), which are decorated with the Instruments of the Passion. This association of baptism with suffering and death is strange to modern eyes, accustomed as we are to thinking of baptism in terms of celebration and thanksgiving for new life. The Passion fonts are of course reflecting some tough thinking about the true meaning of baptism into the faith of Christ Crucified. However, they also provide further evidence that for the medieval believer Christ's suffering could ultimately be seen as a source of blessing and hope. The image of Christ stretched on the cross to embrace all humankind was popularised by Bernard of Clairvaux and appears in the same sermon in

The auter-ston bytokenythe Cristis body that was drawon on the crosse as ys a skyn of parchement on the harow, soo that all his bonys myght be told

The representation of Christ with visible bones is continued into the upper tracery, which contains a typical late medieval depiction of the Resurrection. Christ is stepping energetically out of a chest tomb (rather than a cave with sealed door), a cross-headed staff in his hand. Below, one of the soldiers is running away while the other looks back in astonishment. The visible bones in this section may be intended to show that Christ is resurrected bodily, not just in spirit, as Gabriel's visible bones in the Llandyrnog Annunciation (plate 33a) may suggest that angels have a corporeal presence. However, at Llangadwaladr, the glass-painter's enthusiasm for this effective image has run away with him; even the soldiers have visible bones. The Holy Blood and the Eucharist

At Llanwrin (Mont), on either side of an unusually flamboyant and emotional crucifixion, angels with chalices again collect the blood which streams from Christ's wounds. Fragments from a late window at Clocaenog (Denbs), dated by the Royal Commission to 1538, include an angel with a chalice collecting large pear-shaped drops of blood from the wound in Christ's left foot. The depiction of the wounds in later medieval religious art becomes increasingly graphic, and the emphasis is on the quantity of blood flowing from them (Lewis 1996, 209). In an addition to John Mirk's Good Friday sermon, the Welsh translator has added an extensive digression on the flowing of Christ's blood from his wounds (Lewis 1923-4, 60): and as we have seen blood drips from the outflung hand of the dead Christ/Image of Pity at Llandeilo Talybont. However, Miri Ruben has remarked on the rarity of devotion to the Holy Blood per se in England, and points out that such shrines as existed were the result of royal initiative. It was Henry III who first obtained a relic of the Holy Blood in 1247, as part of the general scramble for relics of the Passion after the sack of Constantinople. His son Edward acquired a few more drops in 1267 and gave them to the abbeys of Ashridge (Herts) and Hailes (Glos) (Rubin 1991, 314). Hailes was the only English pilgrimage shrine to the Holy Blood, and would have been easily accessible

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Images of Piety

Mirk's Festial as the attack on those who wound Christ by their sins (Erbe 1905, 112; Lewis 1923-4, 54):

response while she was able to: and that response was to rely on the sacrament of penance and the power of Christ's 'precyous blode with his bytter passyon and his most cruel and shamefull deth' (Whitford 1979, 93-4). The crucifix as well as the anointing with holy oil was thus a remedy for the crisis of faith; Christ's suffering was meant to bring hope and confidence, not shame and despair. Beneath the cross, the hill of Golgotha was frequently depicted literally with skulls and bones. The medieval tradition was that Adam himself was buried at Golgotha (see e.g. Le Couteur 1926, 119) so this was a comforting visual reference to St Paul's reminder that 'As in Adam all die, even so in Christ shall all be made alive' (1 Corinthians 15 verse 22). At Llanllugan, and in the carving of the Bound Christ now in Bangor Cathedral, the other bones include a large jawbone, too large in comparison with the skull to be human. The only Biblical references to a specific animal jawbone are those relating to Samson's slaying of a thousand Philistines with the jawbone of an ass at Ramath (Judges chapter 15). The jawbone was thus one of Samson's iconographic emblems. However, in the context of the Crucifixion, the device clearly had wider implications. The killing of the Philistines had been identified as a 'type' of the resurrection, the slaying of the Philistines by Samson prefiguring Jesus' rising from the tomb and overcoming the forces of death and evil. 'At the feet of the dying Christ we thus find repeated references to resurrection and the triumph of life and love.' (DuchetSuchaux. and Pastoureau 1994, 303; John Morgan-Guy in Gray and Morgan-Guy, forthcoming) The jawbone of an ass was also the weapon in some representations of Cain's killing of Abel (Duchet-Suchaux and Pastoureau 1994, 73). It is therefore possible that this image of the jawbone beneath the feet of the crucified Christ had an even more complex referent, encapsulating the whole story of human sin and redemption and neatly embodying the ambivalence of the image of the Crucifixion as both a reproach for sin and a sign of salvation. The Welsh imagery contrasts here with the late medieval continental tradition, and in particular the increasing elaboration of narrative detail in German and Netherlandish painting discussed by Marrow (1979). These focus less on the actual Crucifixion than on the events leading up to it - Christ's arrest and trial, his mocking and ill-treatment and the harrowing journey to Golgotha. The graphic and brutal realism of these Continental narrative depictions, with their multiplication of episodes of torture and abuse derived from the interpretation of Old Testament prophecies, is quite different from the timeless and reflective depictions of the Welsh tradition. Apart from the few exceptions quoted above, the dominant Welsh image is of the Crucifixion itself: and even this, traumatic though it is has none of the incidental details of savage abuse d~picted in (for example) Grunewald' s Isenheim altarpiece. The only other representations of the wounded Christ which appear with any frequency are the static and contemplative depictions of the Bound Christ and the Image of Pity. While these present Christ's wounded body,

Loo, myne annes ben sprad on brode, redy to klyp you; my hed is bowed, redy to kisse you; my syde ys open, to schew my heti to you ...

Under pressure from a hierarchy worried about the implications of making the Bible available in English, the sermons of the late medieval church in England had veered away from biblical exposition to concentrate more on the celebration of the lives of the saints and the festivals of the church (Spencer 1993, 158-62, 319-20). The Welsh translations of sermons from Mirk's Festial are generally in line with this tradition. However, the visual imagery which surrounded the sermon was still emphatically that of the crucified Christ. His wounded body is the centrepiece of the crudely energetic depiction of the Flagellation on the pulpit at Newton Nottage in the Vale of Glamorgan. The number of shafts and bases of churchyard crosses which survive in Wales suggest that these must have been a fairly common feature. The churchyard 'cross' was usually a pillar with a decorated head but took its name from the almost invariable depiction of the Crucifixion on one of the four sides. At Trelawnyd (Flint) the Crucifixion is depicted twice, with and without the Virgin Mary and St John. At Llan-gan in the Vale of Glamorgan the Crucifixion is accompanied by the Pieta and several saints (plates 46-48). The open-air sermons preached at these crosses by visiting friars and other preachers may well have concentrated on apocryphal saints' lives and the exposition of the festivals of the church, but the sub-text would always have been the centrality of the doctrine of Christ's sacrifice. The Crucifixion thus blessed the lives of medieval people: but what about their deaths, and the judgement which came after? The priest in the Extreme Unction panel at Llandyrnog (plate 39a) has with him a crucifix which could have been placed or held before the dying person's eyes. This was not to terrify but to comfort. The Order for the Visitation of the Sick directed the priest to hold the cross before the dying person's eyes 'that in the image they may adore their redeemer and have in mind his passion, which he endured for their sins' (quoted in Duffy 1992, 314 ). Like the Image of Pity and the Instruments of the Passion on the tombs at Llandaff, this was a declaration of faith in the saving power of Christ's sacrifice. The need to prepare for a good death was fundamental to late medieval piety. The London Welsh cleric Richard Whitford first wrote his Dayly Exercise and Experyence of Death at the request of the Bridgettine community of Syon, but it was published as late as 1537 for a wider lay audience. Though initially written for a monastic readership, this book demonstrates awareness of the fact that no preparation for death can be fully adequate. In particular, Whitford was aware of the temptation to lastminute despair. The Devil would 'come in before you ... and assayle you in many sondry wyse' - by clinging to this world, relying on good deeds rather that the merits of Christ, or falling into despair because of the weight of sinfulness. The reader was therefore urged to practise her

52

Images of Pity: the iconography of the crucified Christ

their focus is not so much on the objectified detail of the wounding process as on the viewer's empathetic engagement with its result as part of the process of salvation. The Welsh focus on the Five Wounds reflects this meditative approach, geared to the essentials of the redemptive sacrifice rather than the incidentals of the narrative. Even the devotion to the shadow-images of the Crucifixion in the Instruments of the Passion reinforces the reflective nature of this visual imagery. We are presented not with a realistic portrayal of actual suffering but with its timeless reflection in the devotional cult of the instruments which caused it. The vividness and graphic realism of Continental depictions of the Crucifixion were designed to evoke grief and contrition. However, the representation of Christ's suffering was also intended to bear witness to God's love for sinful humanity and to encourage humans to love God in return, to feel compassion for his sufferings and to seek out and accept the forgiveness he offered (Ross 1997, 1618). The image of the cockerel on the pillar in the Instruments of the Passion sequence further reminded those who saw it that even those who had betrayed Christ in the most explicit ways possible could still hope for forgiveness (Callisen 1939). The repositioning of the Doom from the traditional European location on the west wall of the church to the more customary British position over the chancel arch also associated the Christ of the Last Judgement more firmly with the suffering Christ of the rood. In the Wrexham Doom, angels hold the Instruments of the Passion to reinforce the message, as well as the emblems of the four

evangelists as testimony to their authenticity (plate 67). The wounds so openly displayed in both images were not merely a reproach to the sinner but a sign of forgiveness and hope to the penitent. Medieval spiritual writing approached Christ's wounds, and particularly the wound in his side, as openings which made possible the union of the worshipper with Christ himself. This imagery is often disturbing and even grotesque to modern sensibilities: it is difficult for us to accept, for example, the sexual connotations of the imagery of penetration in James of Milan's Stimulus amoris. Nor can we ever be certain how far the ordinary worshipper was influenced by these texts. What they do convey, though, is the sense in which Christ's wounds were seen as providing an ever-present way through the boundaries between this world and the next - 'no man comes to the Father except by me' (Beckwith 1993, 5563). The significance of the Image of Pity is that it offers the viewer both the body wounded and pierced for the sins of the world and the living Christ. There are overtones of this non-narrative representation of the crucified Christ in many of the later medieval Welsh depictions of the Crucifixion, in which Christ is portrayed as still alive, with open eyes, but with the wound in his side clearly visible. (According to the narrative in John 19 33-34, his side was not pierced until the soldiers thought he was dead.) What was presented to the medieval viewer in these crucifixion scenes was the equivalent of the Image of Pity superimposed on the Cross. Christ's body was presented as wounded and opened, a route to salvation and to fuller union with him, but he was also alive and able to engage and communicate with the worshipper.

53

Chapter Six Images of Vice and Virtue The heroic virtues exhibited by the martyr saints may have made them impossible role models for the average medieval parishioner. The virtues demonstrated (and the vices explicitly or implicitly resisted) in the exemplary lives of the later saints provided a guide, as did the charitable acts performed by saints like Nicholas, Sitha and Leonard. However, there were more specific sources of advice on the actions expected of Christians, and like the lives of the saints these guides were presented pictorially to reinforce the teaching which the priests were expected to provide. According to the decrees of the Fourth Lateran Council in 1215 and the 1281 Lambeth Council, parishioners were to be taught, as the absolute basic minimum, as well as the Apostles' Creed, the Ten Commandments and the Seven Sacraments, the two precepts of the Gospel (love of God and love of neighbour) and their embodiments in the Seven Principal Virtues and the Seven Works of Mercy, and the Seven Deadly Sins with their branches. The next chapter considers the use of visual imagery to reinforce the teaching of doctrine; in this chapter we consider the visual representation of the rules of conduct embodied in the Seven Cardinal Virtues, the Seven Corporal Acts of Mercy and the so-called Seven Deadly Sins. (They are more accurately described as the Cardinal Sins. Deadly sins, strictly speaking, are those which lead inevitably to damnation; cardinal sins are those which are the ultimate causes of all particular sins but do not themselves lead to damnation). We then turn to the visual representation of the final consequences of vice and virtue in the Last Judgement.

priest, then as a basis for questioning penitents. This was its later medieval function: the Fourth Lateran council stressed the importance of the sacrament of penance and demanded full confession and penance at least once a year, before the penitent received the sacrament of the Eucharist at Easter. O'Reilly suggests (1988, 83, 91-2) that this didactic and confessional function is the main context for the representation of the Sins in the late medieval period. Much of Mirk's Instructions (Kristensson 1974, 124-160; cf Foss 1989, 131-40), for example, is based on the use of a list of the sins as a practical framework for the confessional. The change from monastic to pastoral use may account for the changing emphasis on different sins in lists from different sources and periods. Evagrius of Pontus (d c 400), one of the first to list the Sins, was himself the leader of a group of Egyptian hermits. His list enumerated eight sins, of which he suggested that accidie, vainglory, pride, avarice and sadness were particularly dangerous to hermits, and greed, anger and lust to monks living in community (Bloomfield 1967, 59). About thirty years later, John Cassian (d c 435) devised a list which began with the monastic dangers of greed, lechery and avarice, then proceeded through anger, sadness, accidie (quad est anxietas sive taedium cordis), vainglory and pride. Although Cassian argued elsewhere that it was pride which was 'the root of all evil' (as described in the Vulgate, in Ecclesiasticus x 13), it was Gregory the Great (d 604) who (in his Moralia in Job, XXXI cap. xlv) put pride first in his list, telescoped accidie into tristitia and separated vainglory from the list as the root of all the others. The standard early medieval list then replaced tristitia with accidie and merged pride and vainglory to produce the familiar seven: Pride, Anger, Envy, Avarice, Sloth, Gluttony and Lechery (Bloomfield 1967, 69-72). The order was not however standard. Most later medieval texts list the sins in the order of pride, avarice, lechery, anger, greed, envy and sloth. Bloomfield suggests (86) that this was done to make a better mnemonic (the Latin names spell saligia, which is easier to pronounce than the Gregorian mnemonic siiaagl) but it blurs the distinction between spiritual and carnal sins. There are also a number of variants on this, and the order of the sins as depicted in wall paintings varies considerably - so much so that Gill has suggested that we may be wrong in expecting the viewer to read them either from left to right or clockwise (http://www.le.ac. uk/ha/ seed corn/findings .html). The Seven Deadly Sins were enumerated in a number of Welsh texts. An extended commentary on the Sins was a commonplace of the Welsh cyffes or poem of confession (see e.g. Lewis 1925, 97-99 for an anonymous poem sometimes attributed to Iolo Goch; idem 255-6 for Sion Cent's J'r Saith Bechod Marwol, 'To the Seven Deadly

The Seven Deadly Sins The enumeration and classification of sins is one of the oldest forms of moralising literature and may well derive from the psychological urge to list and analyse as a form of control (Bloomfield 1967, 37-8). Numbered lists also have a clearly mnemonic function, but a range of numbers has been considered important in lists of sins as of other qualities. Bloomfield suggested (1967, 26-9, 44-56) that the number seven might derive from the image of the seven spheres and their tutelary evil spirits in Zoroastrian thinking and the Gnostic doctrine of the seven demons, but it was not until the twelfth or thirteenth century that the number seven became definitive for lists of sins (Bloomfield 1967, 105): and eight was the definitive number in Eastern Christianity until recently. Bloomfield also suggests (56-7) that the list of seven (or eight) sins was originally intended for use by ascetic monastic communities (hence the early emphasis on the specifically monastic sins of gluttony and lust and the danger of spiritual sloth, accidie). It spread to Ireland, where it was adapted for lay pastoral use, first as a list of sins for the

54

Images of Vice and Virtue

Sins'). The Red Book of Hergest (Evans 1911, 1238-9) orders the sins as pride, envy, anger, sloth, avarice, gluttony and lechery: but there are several other variants. The order is probably not significant, as the complex structures of assonance and alliteration in traditional Welsh poetry probably constrained the order more than any theories as to the nature of the sins. The earlier poets of the Welsh princes (Gwalchmai ap Meilyr, for example - Lewis 1931, 23) sometimes listed eight on the Cassinese model, emphasising as John Cassian had done that pride was the chief. Wales has one identifiable visual depiction of the Seven Cardinal Sins, in the little church at Llangar (Meir). This church has been disused for some time and is now in the care of CADW. Restoration has revealed at least eight layers of paintings on the walls, with the medieval layers including saints and angels as well as the Sins. The Sins are on the south wall, in the upper of two tiers of square compartments. They are badly faded and damaged but just recognisable as figures riding on animals. The easternmost figure is almost certainly Pride, riding on a lion; the one to the right of this is riding on a boar and is probably Anger; and the westernmost figure is riding on an animal with two horns, presumably the goat of Lechery. Both Lechery and Gluttony are sometimes depicted in connection with pigs, but it would be extremely unusual in the later medieval period to have either of these as the second in the sequence. What we have at Llangar, then, is the classic Gregorian sequence of Pride, Anger, Envy, Avarice, Sloth, Gluttony and Lechery, with Pride as the chief sin from which all others flow, and the carnal sins at the end. The depiction of the Sins riding on animals and the division of the scenes into square compartments make it almost certain that the Llangar sequence dates from the late fifteenth century (Rickerby, unpub.). The association of sins with animals is common in later medieval literature, and appears to have been the preferred framework for the presentation of the Sins in fifteenthcentury English literary texts. The image of the sins mounted on appropriate animals first appears in Austria, in the early fourteenth-century Lumen Animae of Godfrey of Vorau and was subsequently popularised by a popular didactic text known as the Etymachia (Norman 1988, 1989). It also occurs as an illustration in the late medieval English manuscripts, though the animals used can vary. Bloomfield (1967, 245-9) lists 12 animals identified with Pride and 21 with Lechery. In the Chaucer MS in the Cambridge University Library, Gluttony rides a bear, while in Oxford Bodley 283 Gluttony is seated on a pig or a boar. The visual association of animals with static depictions of the vices in wall paintings is less common than the use of animals in the battle of vices and virtues. Manuscripts of the Etymachia and related illustrations associate both vices and virtues with animals, which can lead to some confusion. Both Lechery and Devotion, for example, may be depicted riding on a goat; Sloth and Patience could both ride an ass; and so on (Norman 1988, 203-20, 244-6). This is however unusual, and there is little doubt that the Llangar sequence is indeed the Vices.

Although the image of the Sins riding on animals is common in late medieval manuscripts, it is found less frequently in wall paintings. Apart from Llangar, the only other example in the British Isles is at Hardwick in Cambridgeshire. Here the identified figures are Pride on a lion, Anger on a pig, Lechery on a goat, Gluttony drinking and riding an unidentified animal and Sloth on an ass. Animals can however be found in analytical treatments of the Vices in a number of French wall-painting cycles. The imagery of sins riding on animals also appears on the late medieval misericords at Norwich (Remnant 1969, xxxix). There is one other possible reference to the Seven Deadly Sins in Welsh wall painting. In a paper given to the Society of Antiquaries in June 1870, Benjamin Ferrey described in detail the wall painting of the Seven Corporal Works of Mercy on the south wall wall of the church at Rhiwabon (Denb ). But he also made brief mention of another much-mutilated painting, at the west end of the south wall. This he described as a life-size figure, crowned and wearing what he suggested was a sceptre (Ferrey 1870, 518). Ferrey identified this figure as that of the Virgin Mary. However, Miriam Gill has suggested that it may be the Seven Deadly Sins, grouped around the figure of Pride depicted as a woman. The description of the central figure as having 'a hornshaped cap and hangings' with 'hair on each side of the head matted and crown above' suggests a typical late fourteenth-century head-dress with the hair dressed in stiff plaints on either side of the face (http://www.le.ac.uk/ ha/seedcorn/contents.html). Mary is rarely found with this style of contemporary headgear. The church was extensively restored in 1870-72 and it seems likely that the painting was lost at that time. There is certainly no record of its restoration at the same time as the more famous Rhiwabon depiction of the Seven Corporal Works of Mercy. The depiction of the Seven Deadly Sins grouped round a queenly female figure is fairly common in fourteenthcentury English iconography. Examples survive at Alveley in Shropshire, Little Hampden in Buckinghamshire, Padbury in Buckinghamshire, Raunds in Northamptonshire and Wotton Wawen in Warwickshire (http://www.le.ac.uk/ ha/seedcorn/schema.html. All these show Pride as the chief of the sins with the other six Sins proceeding from her. This arrangement is superficially similar to the presentation of the Sins grouped around the body of a naked man. However, unlike the schema with the naked man, the depiction of the sins around the figure of Pride makes no attempt to link the sins with appropriate body parts. Gill therefore suggests that the arrangement around the figure of Pride may be related to the images of Pride as a queen at the foot of the Tree of Sin in twelfthcentury manuscripts. As Rehm suggests, these may ultimately derive from Gregory the Great's description of Pride as the Queen of the Vices (Rehm 1994, 79). The focus on Pride as the mother and generator of sin is also reflected in a fifteenth-century poem from Rhiwabon. Meredudd ap Rhys was a gentleman-cleric who may have been vicar of Rhiwabon as early as 1430. By 1450 he was

55

Images of Piety

also sinecure rector of Meifod and W elshpool. He died in about 1485. He was a distinguished poet and a teacher of poets: 21 of his cywyddau (poems in the strict traditional metre) have survived, including poems of love and friendship as well as a number of religious and didactic compos1t10ns. His poem Meddylio am addoli lists balchder, pride, as the central sin but distinguishes it from gwagweniaith, vainglory, which he lists second. He then enumerates envy, anger, sloth and avarice; glothineb, gluttony, and godineb, strictly speaking adultery rather than lechery, are both mentioned but telescoped into one line (for versions of the poem see NLW Peniarth 114 f 179 and NLW MS 5269 f38b). Gill suggests that the head-dress of the central figure of the Deadly Sins at Rhiwabon dates the painting to the late fourteenth century. The implication of this is that Meredudd was responding to and possibly inspired by a painting which he found in the church where he began his career. He would have been required to explain and expound on the Seven Deadly Sins on a regular basis as part of his pastoral duties. If those who have regarded didactic wall paintings as a visual aid for preachers are correct, the poem with its distinctive schema may have its origins in the use he made of the paintings in preaching and teaching. The dating of paintings by costume is however uncertain at the best, and more so when we are relying on a reconstruction from a vague description of a painting which has now been lost. The painting may be later in date and may have been initiated or designed by Meredudd ap Rhys himself. Meredudd was not just a clerical versifier. He had studied the history of Welsh poetry and may have been acquainted with the work of the gogynfeirdd, the poets of the Welsh princes, some of who listed eight sins deriving from Pride on the Cassinese model. Their emphasis on the separate importance of Pride could well explain the choice of this particular framework for the depiction of the Sins in his parish church.

church of St Pierre at Aulnay (Charente-Inferieure) and in the context of the Last Judgement at the church of St Gilles at Argenton-Chateau (Deux-Sevres) (Katzenellenbogen 1989, 14-21). Also becoming increasingly popular from the ninth century, and also more suited to buildings than the battle scenes of the Psychomachia, is the static representation of typologies of vice and virtue, such as the one on the west front of Notre Dame in Paris. Here twelve Virtues with their corresponding Vices are placed in two double horizontal bands. Katzenellenbogen (vii) suggests that this development reflects a move away from the 'confusion and excitement' of the early Christian period and a more reflective, theoretical insight into the essential nature of the concepts of vice and virtue and their relations with each other. This development was intensified by the twelfthcentury renaissance and the fourth Lateran Council, but its origins can be traced to an earlier period (O'Reilly 1988, 53). The earliest static representations focus on the virtues, whether depicted as a frieze, in various arrangements of medallions, or in the complex schemes of Hildegarde of Bingen's Scivias and the Mystical Paradise (Katzenellenbogen 1989, 21-56). Later schemes have allegorical representations of the vices as well as the virtues, seen as famous virtuous people and sinners, animals, and even fruits and vegetables, as in the depiction of the fruits of the trees of good and evil (Katzenellenbogen 1989, 59-68). Even in these typological schemes, though, the counterposing of two series of virtues and vices has undertones of the Psychomachia and the Triumph of the Virtues. On the north portal at Chartres, for example, the Cardinal and Theological Virtues are placed directly above diminutive defeated Vices though they are not depicted as actively impaling their adversaries (O'Reilly 1988, 55). There were however problems in placing the virtues and vices directly against each other. The list of the virtues was always more flexible than that of the vices. Prudentius listed Faith, Modesty, Patience, Humble Mind, Hope, Sobriety, Good Works, Peace and Concord (O'Reilly 1988, 45). There was by the end of the fourth century a list of seven cardinal virtues - the three Christian virtues of faith, hope and charity outlined by St Paul and the classical cardinal virtues of fortitude, prudence, temperance and patience. The idea of listing virtues comes from the same numerological and mnemonic tradition as the idea of listing vices, but the specific lists of seven vices and virtues had independent origins and could not be placed in exact opposition to each other. They had to be adapted and adjusted. Bloomfield suggested that the virtues were the norm in art and that the vices were altered in visual depictions in order to make them a better contrast with the virtues. By contrast, he found more vivid and exact descriptions of the vices in literature, and a secondary list of virtues called remedia devised to counter them. These are also known as the Gift Virtues because they were considered to be related to the seven Gifts of the Spirit described in Isaiah xi 2-3 (O'Reilly 1988, 43). The several lists of Gift Virtues vary considerably. O'Reilly (46) has

The Seven Virtues

The list of the cardinal vices at Llangar obviously had another sevenfold list in the compartments beneath it. The system of correspondences so fundamental to medieval thinking would suggest a list of virtues to counteract the vices. The schemae which display the virtues and vices, alone or counterposed, are in themselves a commentary on the development of medieval deontology. The implicitly dualistic concept of a battle between the vices and virtues occurs in Christian writing as early as the end of the second century AD in the writings of Tertullian, and in the Psychomachia of the fourth-century poet Prudentius. Successive manuscripts of the Psychomachia and works inspired by them depict scenes from the actual combat between a range of virtues and vices (Katzenellenbogen 1989, 1-13; Norman 1988 passim). From the ninth century onwards, the depiction of the victory of the virtues becomes more common, each virtue being represented triumphing over a subjugated vice. This lends itself more to architectural use and is the scheme which appears in the

56

Images of Vice and Virtue

up to six variants for some of them. In the later medieval Etymachia they are listed in the as Humility, Chastity, Generosity, Patience, Love, Devotion and Abstinence (Norman 1988, 204-6).

corporal acts of mercy (plate 62a). It has been damaged by the insertion of a window and only five of the seven acts survive. It was rediscovered and heavily restored in the late nineteenth century: the geometric border and the Welsh translation of the relevant verses from St Matthew were added at this point. Nevertheless, what remains of the original has several interesting features. The characters performing the acts are clearly differentiated and one of them, giving drink to the thirsty, is a woman. Gill points out (http://www.le.ac.uk/ha/seedcorn/findings.html) that the first of the figures, the one feeding the hungry, is a fashionably-dressed male figure who is handing over not food but money from a purse. She suggests that this portrayal of the feeding as a financial transaction may relate to the popularity of forms of charity such as penny doles distributed at funerals. At Rhiwabon, as at Hardwick, Hoxne and Oddington, recipients of charity are depicted as needing the support of sticks or crutches. At Rhiwabon it is the figure receiving drink who has a T-headed staff on which he leans heavily. This, Gill suggests (http:// ww,v.le.ac.uk/ha/seedcom/findings.html), represents

The Seven Corporal Works of Mercy

At Llangar, however, we clearly have the standard list of vices in the Gregorian order. Rickerby suggests therefore that the second list at Llangar may have been not the Seven Virtues but the Seven Corporal Works of Mercy. These are the charitable acts outlined by Christ as necessary for salvation in his description of the Last Judgement (Matthew 25, 31-46): feeding the hungry, giving drink to the thirsty and hospitality to the stranger, clothing the naked, visiting prisoners and the sick. To these the medieval church added the burial of the dead. The Works of Mercy were regularly counterposed against the Vices in manuscript illumination, alone or supporting the virtue of Mercy (Katzenellenbogen 1989, 59-60). They also appear as remedies for the Vices in surviving wall paintings, especially in England. Miriam Gill suggests (in the University of Leicester database of depictions of the Sins and Works of Mercy, http://www.le.ac.uk/ha/ seedcom/imperf.html) that this pairing relates to the place of the Sins and the Works of Mercy in the scheme of salvation. Where the Sins clearly lead to Hell, the Works of Mercy are the criteria for admission to Heaven. At Trotton (Sussex), the Evil Man with the Seven Cardinal Sins around his head is juxtaposed against the Good Man with roundels depicting the Acts of Mercy: and at Hardwick (Camb) the Acts of Mercy are illustrated in a series of scenes above the Sins. The bardic stress on generosity was part of the stock in trade of the travelling poet, dependent on the hospitality of his patron. However, the poets regularly emphasised the duty of generosity as a Christian duty and a counterbalance to the temptations of worldly splendour and luxury (eg Lewis 1925, 257-8, 2934). And in the Red Book of Talgarth (NLW Llanstephan MS 27 p 46) a list of the Seven Works of Mercy is prefaced by the claim that 'God gave the seven works of mercy to heal men's souls of the seven deadly sins' (Williams, G., 1976, 474). The arrangement of the sequences of figures at Llangar may be another clue to the identity of the figures in the lower register. Earlier depictions of the virtues and vices, whether static or in combat, have the virtues in the upper register. The later battle scenes often involve the successful defence of the castle of virtue against a determined siege by the vices (Norman 1988, 234-8). At Llangar, however, we have the vices in the upper register. This is an altogether more pessimistic view of the human condition in which vice is the natural order of things and the virtues are on the defensive. It is perhaps more likely that it is human good deeds which would be placed in this subordinate position rather than the theological and cardinal virtues. The paintings in the lower register at Llangar are now completely obliterated. At Rhiwabon (Denb ), however, we have a fortunate survival of a Welsh schema of the

a deliberate decision to demonstrate that these individuals, the majority of whom are male, are in genuine need, rather than being feckless and idle. Although these images extol charity as the route to a heavenly reward, they may also be intended to express the social parameters in which it was appropriate.

Each of the Rhiwabon figures is assisted by an angel. This again is orthodox theology: we can do nothing good without God's help. In the Regensburg tapestry, one of the latest depictions of the Battle of the Virtues and Vices, the Virtues are similarly assisted by angels, making them less external forces sent by God and more like human attributes needing to be helped by divine grace (Norman 1988, 2323). There is perhaps a theological point here which links with the suggestion that the Seven Corporal Works of Mercy are likely to be presented at Llangar as the counterpoise to the Seven Deadly Sins. Human sinfulness and frailty means that inherent virtue cannot defeat sin. However, by performing good works we enable grace to act to defeat vice. As well as his poem on the Seven Deadly Sins, Meredudd ap Rhys wrote a cywydd encouraging his parishioners in their performance of the corporal acts of mercy: And the seven deeds [expected ot] the believers Which should all be performed for the sake of the weak: Supply food and drink when they come seeking, Attend to the suffering of invalids, Carry the dead from the hill to the church, Befriend every jailed prisoner, Give board and lodgings to those in need of shelter, And clothing against the elements. (trans. Archdeacon T.W. Pritchard: pers. comm.)

As with the putative painting of the Seven Deadly Sins, the relationship between this poem and the painting is difficult to establish. The style of the clothing suggests a date for the painting from the late fourteenth or very early fifteenth century. The female figure appears to be wearing

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Images of Piety

a square head-dress and one of the men has bi-coloured hose. These, the moustaches and forked beards of the male figures and their high-waisted gowns all suggest a date between 1390 and 1410. The background diapered with small trefoils is also typical of the late fourteenth and early fifteenth centuries (http://www.le.ac.uk/ha/seedcorn /contents.html). If this date is accurate - and the evidence is far more compelling than that for the Seven Deadly Sins - the painting cannot have been the responsibility of Meredudd ap Rhys. It should however have been visible at the time when he wrote his poem. The order in which the Works of Mercy are depicted in the poem is different from that of the wall painting. It is however worth bearing in mind the constraints of the extremely complex verse form in which Meredudd was writing. The order in which the Works are enumerated in the poem may have owed more to the needs of the cynghanedd than to any abstract scheme. We have thus two possible interpretations. The painting may have been inspired by Meredudd's poem; indeed, he may have commissioned it himself to communicate the same points visually. Alternatively, the poem may have been inspired by the painting, and may tell us something of how existing visual imagery was used by the clergy as material for instruction and homily.

rainbow, robed as a judge and displaying his wounds. He is flanked by angels. On his right, St Michael holds the scales while Satan attempts to drag down the pan with the soul in it and Mary places her rosary in the opposite scale. The panels which accompany this, to Christ's left, depict the legend of St Hubert. A young nobleman who went hunting on Good Friday, he followed a white stag which led him away from his followers. The stag then turned to him and displayed the crucifix between its antlers. He repented his sins, and became a monk. This sequence of the life of an obscure saint does not at first sight fit with the Last Judgement sequence. The white border above the St Hubert panels is slightly different from that above the Last Judgement panels, lending support to the theory that they were originally part of two different programmes. The Last Judgement could have been depicted on the rood loft, above the entrance to the chancel, while the life of St Hubert could have been partnered by the life of another saint on the lower panels either side of the entrance. However, recent conservation work has identified a different white border under layers of overpainting on one of these panels. This border is similar to those on the Last Judgement panels and is considered likely to be the outline of the rood loft moulding (Hirst 1999). The implications of the St Hubert legend as part of the Last Judgement sequence are similar to those of the Sunday Christ: work or leisure pursuits on Sundays and the greater feasts of the church are the activities which recrucify Christ and lead to damnation. St Michael appears again as the weigher of souls on the churchyard cross at Derwen (Denb). We have already mentioned the stained glass panel of St Michael weighing souls and Mary interceding for them at Llangystennin (Caerns) and the possible figures of Mary and Michael at Llangybi (above, pp 16). There are also a few fragments in stained glass. At Tremeirchion (Flint) the patchwork of medieval glass in the west window of the south wall includes a naked body, either rising from a coffin or sitting in the scales of judgement, and a little demon with a coxcomb. The figure rising from a coffin in the stained glass at Cwm (Flints) is also most likely from a doom. The fragmentary torso of Christ with his hand raised and displaying his wounds, now in the background of the Coronation of the Virgin at Gresford (plate 14b), may well be Christ in judgement from a lost Doom: its pose is probably too commanding for the Image of Pity, though the blood is streaming from the wound in his side. It is possible that the head and naked shoulders of a woman in the window to the west of the Coronation of the Virgin are part of the same Doom scene. Also at Gresford is a misericord depicting the Devil wheeling souls to Hell in a handcart. The worn and almost indecipherable carving on the west face of the churchyard cross at St Mary Hill (Glam: plate 64) has traditionally been identified as a Crucifixion (eg Newman 1995, 567) or an Embalming (Orrin 1988, 390). It is obviously a three-figure composition, and the central figure involves the outline of a cross. However, the crossbar is the wrong shape for a traditional cross, and is too far down the associated figure. It is possible, therefore, that

The Last Judgement

Another fifteenth-century poet, Sion Cent, placed the Works of Mercy in their Biblical context, as part of Christ's prophecy of the Last Judgement (Matthew 25, 3146) Then, Christ promised to separate the good from the wicked, welcoming the good into heaven because in caring for others they had cared for him, and consigning the wicked to hell because in neglecting others they had neglected him. Sion Cent lists only the six biblical works of mercy: his main concern is with the finality of that judgement, when the damned will be cast into the furnace and the abyss for ever, with no possibility of an end to their suffering, while the blessed will ascend to endless joy (Lewis 1925, 280-3). If there was ever a Doom over the chancel arch at Llangar or Rhiwabon, it has now been lost. We have already referred to the remarkable survival of a Doom painting at Wrexham, high over the chancel arch, battered but still clearly decipherable (plate 67). Christ sits robed for judgement; on his right hand Mary kneels with her breasts exposed, praying for mercy. To his left John the Baptist also kneels in his robe of camel skin. Below and around them, bodies crawl out of tombs and shrouds: some naked, some robed, some with crowns or mitres. To the left of the painting (on Christ's right hand), the saved are welcomed into heaven. To the right, the souls of the damned - kings and bishops as well as the common people - are herded into the flames. This is the only surviving full-scale depiction of the Last Judgement in Wales. On the painted wooden panels now displayed on the north wall of the nave at Llaneilian-ynRhos (Denb: plate 40a) but traditionally said to be repositioned panels from the rood loft, Christ sits on the

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Images of Vice and Virtue

El at Fair yfudd eirian Yntau ai wyr yn y tan At Fihangelpan elwyf Tynnyberr Sattan i bwyf Ar fenaid minau erfynwn Yn y pwys anap i hwnn Yn erbyn rhag ofu oerbair A wnel Mihangel a Mair

this is another representation of St Michael with his scales, flanked by the Virgin Mary and (presumably) Satan. Unfortunately, the carving is battered almost beyond recognition. It lay in the churchyard for generations, was replaced on its old plinth and a new column by the Victorians and now takes the full force of the westerly winds, laden with pollution from the nearby industrial estate. Other representations of the Last Judgement are known to have been lost. The church of St David's, Llangadog (Carms) was virtually ruined in the nineteenth century and rebuilt in 1889. Local tradition stated that the earlier church had had a 'rude mural painting' of the Doom (RCAHM 1917 [Carms], 146). The lost painting over the chancel arch at Llangwm Uchaf (Mon) (Thomas 1877, 467) was from its location probably a Doom: Thomas describes it as 'the figure of Our Lord in the act of blessing'. Breeze suggests (1989-90) that the vivid and circumstantial descriptions of this scene in so many Welsh poems imply that some at least of them were inspired by actual paintings. The Wrexham Doom may in fact be atypical. Although there are a number of English and Continental examples of Last Judgements in which Mary pleads for mercy with her breasts exposed, it appears from the descriptions of the poets that she was more commonly depicted in Wales placing her rosary in the scales on the side of the sinner. This was a common motif in medieval English painting and does not occur elsewhere in Europe. There are no literary references to it in English but it was a commonplace of Welsh bardic poetry: Breeze (1989-90) prints and translates eight examples, of which perhaps the most vivid is from the poem of Llywelyn ap Hywel ab Ieuan ap Gronwy of Llantrisant (Glam) in Jesus College, Oxford, MS 101:

(I saw the image of Michael and the sinner he weighs: and the ugly Black One, tugging at the thread with his swarthyhand: and the gripping on the other side, loaded down with Mary's rosary; and the soul there, dying, teaching a sharp lesson about good works. May Mary the meek and fair receive him; in the fire she knows him. When I go to Michael, I shall tug Satan's fork, and by my soul I shall wish him ill luck in the scales! May Michael and Mary, for fear of the icy cauldron, be successfulagainst him.)

and in the Last Judgement sequence in the Welsh play The Dialogue of the Soul and the Body Mary places her rosary in the scales on the side of the sinner's soul (Jones 1939, 250-1 ). The accepted textual source for this is in the Golden Legend account of the Assumption of the Virgin Mary. In one of the post -mortem miracles, a great sinner whose good and bad deeds are being weighed in the scales of judgement is advised by Truth and Justice to call on Mary with all his heart. She places her hand on the scale where his few good deeds are and weighs it down (Voragine, trans. Ryan, 1993, 2, 87). It is of course more than likely that this account in the Golden Legend may itself reflect a much earlier oral or written tradition. The image of the Virgin with her rosary is as far as we know confined to the British Isles, but the related image of Mary placing her hand, a roll of aves or a candle in the scales is common all over Europe (Breeze 1989-90, 97 n 2). The idea that Mary had anything to do with salvation was one of the tenets of traditional Catholicism which was attacked most forcibly by the Protestant reformers. Ironically, though, these images of Mary petitioning for salvation for the most sinful of her devotees can be read as a reworking of the basic Augustinian orthodoxy rediscovered by the reformers: that human actions can do nothing to ensure salvation, that individuals are saved by faith and by the inscrutable decrees of divine providence.

Llun Mihangela welwn A baiys a bwys hwnn Y gwr du yn hagr a dynn A llaw winau yn llinyn A gafael yn y gyfair Drom iawn gan baderau Mair Ar enaid yn farw yna Athro tost am weithredda

59

Chapter Seven Images of Liturgy and Literacy So far, this study has taken as one of its themes the profound difference of emphasis between literary and visual sources for the spiritual life of medieval Wales. We now move to consider the ways in which visual imagery supports verbal and text-based instruction in the faith, and the use of visual stimuli as triggers to guide and enhance the experience of the liturgy and to comment on the theological underpinning of sacrament and ritual. This will include reviewing some of the evidence presented earlier, and placing it in a different context.

inscription is necessary to remind the viewer to pray for them. The subject matter of some windows might also need text to explain it. Without the names written underneath, even the most visually literate medieval viewer would have had difficulty in identifying Frideswide and Marcella from the two stock depictions of learned female virgin martyrs at Llandyrnog. In the same window, the medieval viewer would have needed the captions to identify the episcopal saints as David and Asaph (plates 34-36). Once this bare identification by name has been established, however, the visual image tells us far more about these saints and the significance of their grouping in this window than any caption could. The text carved on the stones commemorating Iestyn and Pabo identifies them, but its main purpose was probably to identify and commemorate the donors of the carvings. There are windows where the text is at first sight even less useful. Narratives such as the lives of the Virgin Mary, St Anne, St Anthony and St John in the windows at Gresford were told in pictures with a wealth of significant detail to which the illiterate but instructed viewer could be expected to respond. Underneath the pictures, however, the skeleton of the story is told in a written text, in Latin (plates 12-13, 22-23). If we are correct in arguing that those who saw these windows were expected to be visually literate, able to decode the complex and highly significant images they present, the text underneath them is unnecessary. It adds nothing to the story: it is in fact far less detailed and nuanced than the visual presentation. Beneath the scene of the birth of the Virgin Mary, for example, with all its domestic detail and the implications of Anne's care for the child and Joachim's status in the narrative, is the simple caption NATNITAS MARIAE. This adds nothing to our knowledge or understanding of the meaning of the story. As far as we can see, text was not seen as a crucial part of the narrative (as it might have to be for a modern readership). Unlike the illustrated Bibles and other texts discussed by Schapiro (1973), Camille (1985 (1 )), Lewis (1991) and others, the narratives and contemplative images in stained glass give primacy to the visual depiction. The visual image does not interpret the text; the text is a caption subordinated to the visual image. In most cases, the text does not narrate, argue or discuss the events depicted: a brief statement naming the visual image and adding little or nothing to it is all that is offered. Nor did all the narratives in the windows at Gresford have accompanying texts. The episodes from the death and assumption of the Virgin are apparently uncaptioned. The great narrative sequences of high Gothic stained art, like those at Chartres and Bourges, are normally devoid of text: as Kemp argues (1997, 130)

Text as part of the visual image

At the simplest level, text and image support each other through the incorporation of written text into the visual image. This could be done for purely practical reasons. Several of the Gresford windows have inscriptions recording the names of the donors or asking for prayers for their souls. The increased emphasis in the later medieval church on the doctrine of Purgatory made prayers for the dead an important aspect of devotion. They could be secured by endowing a chantry, but a suitably inscribed window could invite the prayers of the whole parish. Stained glass was a peculiarly appropriate medium for this: the Mass for the Dead prayed that light perpetual might shine upon them with God's saints for ever (Ayers 1996, 67). Patrons and other lay people could of course be remembered through visual depiction. An unnamed female donor with her daughters appears under the sequence depicting the life of the Virgin Mary in the Lady Chapel at Gresford. More precise visual reminders of the wealthy were provided by heraldry. Richard, Duke of York is commemorated at Llanllugan by the roundel containing the arms of the Garter, and the side tracery lights above the Jesse window at Diserth (Flint) incorporate the arms of Archdeacon Peter Conway who left money for the window in about 1532 (Thomas 1880, 220). The heraldic windows at Llanrhaiadr-yng-Nghinmeirch, Mold and Treuddyn as well as Gresford identify important patrons of the church as well as the donors of individual windows. Such was the importance of inviting prayers for the dead that multiple forms of commemoration could be used. At Llangadwaladr the donors of the Crucifixion window, Meurig ap Llywelyn ap Hulkyn, his wife Margaret ferch Evan Fychan, Owain ap Meurig and his wife Elen, are commemorated as kneeling figures, in the heraldry on Owain's tabard and in the partly-restored inscription ORATE P: BONO ST[ATU] MEURYK [AP] LU: AP HULKYN ARMIG [M]ARGRED [V' EVAN] VACHN YWAY[NI: AP] MEURYK ELE[NAE] V[ROB] QUI HANC FENESTRAM [FIE]RI [FECERUNT] (plates 42, 45).

However, the heraldry has inaccuracies and the figures have nothing else to distinguish them. In this case, the

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Images of Liturgy and Literacy

They are not a variation but an altogether different text with a structure of its own ... the visual narrative actively competes for position with the written word; ... The images are not illustrations of the secondary text, but take up the theme as found in existing literary versions - an infinitely malleable, variable, adaptable material - and they pass it on to other texts and other images.

able to read: where they can be identified they were, like Gwenllian ferch Madog and Gruffydd ap Gwilym of the Llaniestyn monument, leading landowners, or like Ralph Davenport, mayor of Chester and donor of the panels depicting St John the Baptist at Gresford, members of the urbal elite. But perceptions of the importance of literacy reached further down the social order, and may well have reached even those who were themselves unable to read or who read only with difficulty. For them, the written {ext can thus be seen as a non-functional but highly significant adjunct to the informative visual image. The contemplation of the written word was considered to be of value even for the illiterate. At the end of the Welsh Life of St Margaret of Antioch she promises certain salvation to those who copy, read or look at the Life, as well as to those who dedicate churches to her (Richards 1939, 333; Cartwright 1999, 125). This reverence for the written word as image has its parallels in traditional Tibetan Buddhist practice, in which the mechanics of reading - even the turning of the pages - have ritual significance. Those who can decode the text visualise the meanings in their written form and hold them in their minds. Those who cannot read derive benefit simply from holding the sacred book in their hands and raising it to their foreheads (Ekvall 1964, 125, quoted in Goody 1968, 15). These fragments of text could thus acquire an apotropaic significance which could even become detached from their meaning, and they seem to have been prized for this even by those who could not read them. We have several examples of medieval windows where the surviving fragments include numerous fragments of text, often detached from the images they must have accompanied. At Gresford, all that is left of the medieval depictions of the Nativity and the Flight into Egypt are the captions NATALIS CHRISTI and FUGA IN AEGYPT. At Hope (Flints), most of what survives of the life of St Anne and the Te Deum window is text (plate 28). The fragments of pictorial glass can now be identified and interpreted only by reference to the text. The identity of a complex series of medieval windows at Caerwys (Flint) can be deduced from the surviving patchwork of fragments by the inscription RADIX JESSE from the Tree of Jesse and several fragments of the Apostles' Creed. Llandyrnog and Llanfair Dyffryn Clwyd also have disjointed fragments of the text of the Apostles' Creed detached from the visual representation of the apostles. At Llanbedrog (Caerns), all that now remains of an Annunciation window is the two fragments A VE and [MA]RIA. The surviving scraps of medieval glass at Mold (Flint) include a quantity of fragmentary inscriptions in both Latin and English, most of them unidentifiable and now assembled in the lower part of the main lights of one window in the south aisle. The words SANCTA and MARIA (on two separate fragments and probably from two different inscriptions) have now been placed over the head of a woman, probably the Virgin Mary from a depiction of the Crucifixion. They would however almost certainly have been below the figure of the Virgin (and possibly of another saint) in the original sequence, and have been rescued separately.

Text was not therefore necessary for the understanding of the visual image, though it may have added to it in some way. The text in the east windows of larger churches would only rarely have been visible to the congregation, distanced as they were from it by the rood screen and the length of the chancel. Why then was text seen a a desirable adjunct to visual representation when it added so little to understanding? Literacy, learning and the sacred

The vitae of many Welsh (and other) saints place a heavy emphasis on their learning and wisdom, and many stress the early age at which that learning was attained (Henken 1991, 26). This testifies to the almost superstitious respect for literacy and book-learning in an otherwise largely illiterate (but emphatically not unlearned) society. This is in line with Clanchy's suggestion (1993, 278-9) that we should consider early texts as works of art rather than communication: they performed the dual function of enshrining words of God in sacred script, and serving as reminders of the exact text of the liturgy in case the chanter happened to forget them. This was sacred writing in the fullest sense, aimed at God as much as at a human reader. The text in late medieval stained glass windows has not quite the same dimension of the sacred but it has the same non-utilitarian qualities, appealing to the eye of the nonliterate or barely literate viewer as much as it does to the mind of the literate.We have already noted the way in which saints sometimes carry the books which indicate their learned status through the drapery of their vestments. The books may be closed, denoting both the power and the mystery of learning (Camille 1989, 111). Priests are depicted (as in the medieval glass at Tremeirchion, Flint) holding the eucharistic host in the same way, with a reverence which suggests that it is too holy to be touched by human hands and must be held with consecrated vestments. At Llandyrnog even Mark the evangelist carries his gospel with his hand covered by his cloak. The presence of text could thus give the visual image an added weight of authority, even for those who were unable to read the words. In the east window of the Trevor chapel at Gresford, the captions under the narrative pictures of the life of St Anthony and the death of John the Baptist are written on elaborate scrolls borne by pairs of angels, further emphasising their importance. The existence of illegible text in the east windows of the great churches is part of the same process, stressing the authenticating function of the visual presentation of text when it could not be read even by the literate (cf Camille 1987, 34). The patrons who paid for the stained glass and carved stone were of all the local population the most likely to be

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Images of Piety

It is possible that in some cases the text of the inscription was saved when the rest of the window was destroyed because the written word was not perceived as threatening by the Reformers. In the case of the story of St Anne at Hope, however, and the extracts from the Latin liturgy, the words would be as unacceptable to the iconoclasts as the visual images were. If we can assume that what was saved depended on what was valued as well as on what was left, it may be that the inscriptions beneath the pictures had an iconic significance even for those who were unable to read them or who could decipher them with difficulty and only because of their familiarity. The depiction of books in devotional imagery can suggest the value which even those who were technically illiterate placed on the written word. Saints carry books, open or closed, as signs of power and authority. The fragmentary scenes in the Seven Sacraments window at Llandyrnog (Denb) are full of books, open and closed, and in the background of the Marriage panel an acolyte holds the service book open (plates 37-38). St Anne in her garden and the Virgin Mary at the Annunciation are both depicted reading, with the text of the book turned towards the viewer (eg plates 12a, 33a). That the text in all these open books is notional rather than composed of actual letters may be the result of the difficulty of presenting fine detail in glass rather than any symbolic desire to conceal what is being read. The most significant visual depiction of the act of reading is probably the scene of St Anne teaching the Virgin Mary to read, of which we have three possible versions, all in north Wales. So popular was this image that it continued in use in spite of the inherent contradiction with the apocryphal Gospel accounts of the upbringing of the Virgin. The Protevangelium, the Gospel of PseudoMatthew and their derivatives describe Mary being taken to the Temple at the age of three and remaining there during her education until she was betrothed to Joseph. An obscure alternative tradition had Mary going back home after her initial presentation and only returning to the Temple when she was seven. There is however no evidence that this version was current in Wales. English images of the Education of the Virgin attempt to negotiate the conundrum by showing Mary at home shortly before her betrothal, but according to tradition she had learned to read long before this (Sease 1993). Sease suggests (p 90) that this image of the Virgin learning to read is also problematic in the context of medieval visual literacy. If the visual image was indeed intended as 'reading material' for the illiterate, as Gregory the Great suggested, images of the reading Virgin subvert this by privileging the ability to read. In the context of the general reverence for the written word which we have been discussing, however, it seems quite appropriate that the Virgin Mary, holiest of women, should be revered for her literacy as well as for her other qualities.

responsible for the original biblical text. The extent of preReformation Welsh translation of the Bible is still a matter for debate. Williams (1976, 88-92) rejects the traditions of a Welsh translation of the Pentateuch and the gospels, while pointing to the existence of a Welsh version of the Promptuarium Bibliae, a synopsis of the historical books of the Bible, and the translation of a number of excerpts from the Gospels and other books. The frequent repetition of some sections of the Bible as liturgical readings would nevertheless have made the Latin familiar and even comprehensible to many of the congregation. The figures of the four Evangelists appear in stained glass at Hope and Gresford and in fragmentary form at Llandyrnog and Llanelidan (Denb ). At Llanllugan only John has survived, but the others may have been part of the original more extensive scheme. The emblems of the Evangelists - the man for St Matthew, the lion of St Mark, the ox of St Luke and the eagle of St John - appear in stained glass but also in a wider range of contexts. Poetic descriptions suggest that the great rood at Brecon had the symbols of the Evangelists carved on it (Jones 1912, 304) and they also appear on the fonts at Bangor Is-coed (Flint) and Gresford (Denb ). Duffy suggests that these depictions of the evangelists and their symbols served as visual prompts for the recollection of their gospels. The passages which they particularly recalled might be the incipits of the gospels but were perhaps more likely to have been the passages included in many privately-owned primers or books of hours. As well as the psalms and other scriptural passages from the Office of the Bessed Virgin, many primers contained gospel readings from some of the great feasts of the Christian year. The most familiar of these would have been the opening chapter of St John's Gospel, read as the gospel at mass on Christmas Day but also part of the liturgy for the blessing of holy bread at mass on Sunday and sometimes used as an additional gospel after Mass each day. The story of the Magi from St Matthew's Gospel was the proper gospel at Mass on the feast of the Epiphany. The Annunciation story from St Luke's Gospel was read on Lady Day and the final section of St Mark's Gospel, in which Christ promised his disciples power over devils, serpents and poison and the ability to heal the sick, was the gospel on Ascension Day. All four extracts were thought to have independent numinous qualities (Duffy 1992, 214-7). Visual representations could serve as prompts for a range of other texts. We have already seen how the representation of the crucified Christ at Llangadwaladr, with the bones visible as in an x-ray photograph (plate 43), refers to Psalm 22, the 'crucifixion psalm' from the Palm Sunday liturgy, with its line ' I can count all my bones'. The scenes of Christ's humiliation before his death and the Sessio or 'Bound Christ' were a visual commentary on several of the Old Testament readings from Isaiah and Jeremiah in the Holy Week services. However, the Sessio could also suggest the Easter Sunday introit Domine probasti me, drawn from the opening verses of Psalm 139:

Visual images as mnemonics

This reverence for the written word extended to the depictions and emblematic representations of those

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Images of Liturgy and Literacy

Domine probasti me et cognovistime tu cognovisti sessionemmeam et resurrectionemmeam (Lord, thou hast searchedme and known me Thou knowest my downsittingand my uprising)

Dyffryn Clwyd (Denb ). Fragments at Caerwys and Tremeirchion (Flint) and Llanelidan (Denb) can be recognised by the wording of the clauses of the Creed as well as the emblems of the Apostles. At Caerwys, for example, the word [T]ERRAM comes from Peter's clause [RESURR]ECTlONEM from Thadeus's and s SUB is PASSU~ SUB PONTlO PILATO from the clause attributed to St John the Evangelist, while James can be identified by the scallop-shell on his scrip and Matthias by the money-box which is his local emblem. The representation of the Creed in scrolls around the figures of the apostles rather than in captions underneath them may in itself suggest that we are looking at visual images which were expected to prompt oral recitation of the Creed. Camille suggests (1985(2), 29, 38-39) that words on scrolls are meant to depict the word as it was spoken, while captions and words in books reflect the written word. At Abergavenny (Mon), two separate sets of apostles, each bearing a scroll on which the words of the appropriate clause of the creed could be painted, are carved on alabaster panels on either side of the tomb of Sir William ap Thomas and his wife Gwladus (plate 2a). These panels were once thought to be an addition to the tomb but recent restoration has suggested that they have always been integral (M. Eastham, pers. comm.). Lewis Glyn Cothi's elegy to Gwladus describes the presence of 'God and the Twelve' on her tomb, which may be a reference to the figures on the side panels (Johnston 1995, 247-8. I am grateful to Frank Olding of the Abergavenny Museum for this reference and for a translation of the poem). In this location the Apostles with their scrolls suggest a powerful statement of faith in the salvific narrative contained in the creed and in its resounding conclusion: 'I believe ... in the communion of saints; the forgiveness of sins; the resurrection of the body; and the life everlasting'. The visual representation of Lord's Prayer was more difficult, but the medieval system of parallels and analogies allowed the seven petitions of the Lord's Prayer to be considered in the context of the other seven-fold doctrines. The Expositio moralia of Hugh of St Victor (d 1141) drew parallels between the seven-fold division of Canaan, the seven petitions of Paternoster, the seven gifts of the Holy Spirit, the seven virtues and the seven Beatitudes, all of which he suggested as opponents of the seven cardinal sins. His meditation on the Paternoster, De modo orandi, may have influenced the Welsh text Pwyll y Fader a dull Hu Sant, 'the Meaning of the Lord's Prayer according to St Hugh'. This was in fact a translation from the Speculum de Mysteriis Ecclesiae, attributed to St Hugh but probably not in fact by him. It formed part of the collection known as the Book of the Anchorite of Llanddewibrefz and was recopied in numerous manuscripts from the fourteenth to the sixteenth century (Foster 1950, 204-5, 225). It takes the petitions in turn and applies them to the Seven Deadly Sins in the Gregorian order.

Augustine's commentary on the Psalms glossed sessionem with the lines from Philippians He humbled himself and was made obedient unto death even the death of the Cross ' The image of the seated and bound Christ thus drew together the events of the Crucifixion with the joy of the Easter ceremony, using these liturgical references to link Christ's humiliation and death with the power of the Resurrection. Paintings could depict scenes of dialogue: the words could be shown as disembodied letters or on scrolls or captions, but familiar words could equally well be implied by the expressions and gestures of the participants (Tarr 1997). Not all the depictions of the Annunciation in medieval Welsh churches have scrolls or captions bearing the opening words of the Ave Maria, but they could all have functioned as triggers for the repetition of the whole prayer. More, they helped to explain its importance. The words were spoken by the angel at the moment of the Incarnation, when God became flesh, setting the whole redemptive process in motion. Repetition of the Ave Maria and meditation on the Annunciation led on to meditation on the Incarnation and the central mysteries of Christian theology. The Ave Maria was one of the texts which the border priest John Mirk's Instructions for Parish Priests listed as embodying the basics of the faith. The 1281 Lambeth Conference had decreed that all parishioners should be taught the Paternoster, the Apostles' Creed the virtues vices and works of mercy and the seven sacr;ments. Ther~ were plenty of Welsh texts embodying this basic programme. The popular Yn y Mod Hwnn, which survives in over twenty copies, provided a summary of the Creed with a commentary on the Ten Commandments, the Seven Deadly Sins, the Seven Sacraments and the Seven Works of Mercy (Foster 1950). These instructions translated into the piety expected of a lay person. NL W MS Llanstephan 117 instructs 'When you rise say your pater-noster and your ave maria and your credo to strengthen you in the Catholic faith' as well as providing additional material such as the fifteen Oes of St Brigid. However, much of this basic programme could also be linked to visual representations. The cleric Meredudd ap Rhys's poems on the Seven Deadly Sins and the Seven Corporal Works of Mercy suggest ways in which the depiction of these doctrines could inspire didactic writing and may give us a glimpse of their potential use as preaching aids. The traditional belief was that each of the twelve apostles had contributed a clause to the creed, and they were frequently depicted bearing scrolls with their clauses. Examples survive in stained glass at Diserth (Flint) and in an incomplete form at Llandyrnog (plate 39b) and Llanfair

Our Father which art in heaven, strengthen me through the seven prayers of the Pater-Noster. This is the first prayer:

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Images of Piety

Strengthen thy name so that thou shalt be a father to us and we shall be thy sons. This is against pride. The second prayer: Thy kingdom come. This is for the salvation of the soul against wrath. The third prayer: May thy will be upon us as in heaven so on the earth. This is against jealousy. The fourth prayer: Give us our daily bread. This will give us joy and is against laziness and sadness. The fifth prayer: Forgive us, Lord, our sins which we have committed against thee, as we forgive those who have sinned against us. And whoever will request this from god he must be merciful. This is against miserliness. The sixth prayer: Lead us not into temptation. This is against gluttony. The seventh prayer: release us, Lord Jesus Christ, from the bondage of our sins. Amen. And this prayer is against adultery and so ends.

which Parkinson suggests might be part of a litany: 'A dentibus mortis ... Jesu mercy' (Parkinson 1985, 13). The Jesse Tree, with its roundels depicting Christ's descent from the kings of the house of David, illustrated the prophecy in Isaiah 11 which was part of the Advent liturgy: And there shall come forth a rod out of the stem ofJesse, and a branch shall grow out of his roots And the spirit of the Lord shall rest upon him, the spirit of wisdom and understanding, the spirit of counsel and might, the spirit of knowledge and of the fear of the Lord ... And in that day there shall be a root of Jesse, which shall stand for an ensign of the people: to it shall the Gentiles seek, and his rest shall be glorious

This popular late medieval iconographic device appeared over the altars of lady chapels (as at St Augustine's, Bristol, and probably at Llanrhaiadr-yng-Nghinmeirch) and high altars (as at Diserth, Gresford and Rhiwabon, where Churchyard's Worthines of Wales described a Jesse above the altar: Thomas 1874, 836). There were further references to it in the Sarum liturgy, in the Mass of the Virgin (Legg 1916, 390) in the punning reference to Mary as the virga, the rod from the stem of Jesse:

This resulted in some odd mis-matches between petition and sin, but made it possible to follow the Sins as depicted on a church wall while reciting the prayer. Christ's seven words on the Cross could also be used as an antidote to the seven cardinal sins (Bloomfield 1967, 126-7), linking reflection on the sins as depicted on the church wall with meditation on the Rood and the other representations of the Crucifixion. All these basic texts were incorporated in the cycle of prayers for which the rosary was used as a mnemonic. The Welsh were known for their devotion to the rosary cycle, and it appears on monuments such as the one to Efa ferch Gruffydd ap Tudur in Bangor Cathedral (Gresham 1986, 231 ). The imagery of the rosary was further reinforced by the repetitive decoration on rood screens and other carvings of oak leaf and acorn trails. Many of the poets described the beads of the rosary as acorns; for Guto'r Glyn the ten beads of the Ave Maria were the 'ten acorns of God' (Williams, I., and Williams, J.Ll., 1961, 248) Other liturgical material could be linked with visual imagery. The Te Deum, the great hymn of praise to God of the whole church, was particularly suited to visual representation, with its enumeration of angels, cherubim and seraphim, the glorious company of the apostles, the goodly fellowship of the prophets, the noble army of martyrs and the saints in glory everlasting. These were illustrated in stained glass at Gresford (Denb: plates 15, 20-21)) and Hope (Flint). The text running under the figures in the Gresford window is part of the Victorian reconstruction, but several sections of the original text survive at Hope. Like the narratives under the Gresford depictions of St John the Baptist and St Anthony, the Hope Te Deum begins with a scroll held by the fingers of two hands (plate 28). If Camille is correct in his suggestion (1985(2), 29, 38-39) that spoken words appear on scrolls, this suggests that here, as with the Apostles' Creed, we are looking at a series of prompts for the understanding of a text which will be heard rather than read. A fragment of text can still be seen under the figure of the Dead Christ/Image of Pity on the south wall of the nave at Llandeilo Talybont (Glam). The text seems to be

Virga lesse floruit virgo deum et hominem genuit pacem deus reddidit in se reconcilians ima summis

The same image appears in the Sequences of the Virgin: in the opening of the Sequence for the Assumption (Legg 1916, 479) Area virga prime matris eve florens rosa processit Maria

and in the sequence Ave Maria preciosa gemma virginum (Legg 1916, 490), in a richly complex series of images, she is both the rod of Jesse and the rod of Aaron: Tu virga florens de radice Iesse ... Et Aaron in virga florigera

(cf Morgan 1991 p 101; Ayers 1996, 251). Individual saints could call to mind liturgical and devotional texts traditionally connected with them. St Brigid of Sweden was always associated with the devotional prayers to the wounds of Christ which had been attributed to her (above, p 21-22). St Radegund could well call to mind the two great hymns Vexilla regis prodeunt and Pange lingua gloriosi which Venantius Fortunatus wrote to celebrate her installation of a relic of the True Cross in her convent (McNamara 1992, 62). However, there were also iconographical parallels which could make the whole liturgy visible. Pious lay people were encouraged to meditate during the Mass on the incidents of Christ's life and death (Duffy 1992, 19, 118-23). A poem sometimes attributed to Iolo Goch identified the hours of Christ's passion with the canonical hours of the Church. At Matins God called him; at Prime he came before the false justices and false witnesses; at Terce he was crucified. At Sext he died; at Vespers he was taken down from the cross

A dent ... Jhu mer...

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and at Compline he was laid in the tomb (Ashton 1896, 545-8; cf Jones 1912, 256 and Ross 1997, 44-5 for other examples of the linking of narratives of Christ's life and suffering with liturgical time). Using wall paintings such as the ones which were rescued from Llandeilo Talybont and the ones which were destroyed when the church at Llanwddyn was submerged, the worshipper was provided with a daily cycle of meditations taking him through some of the most important events in the narrative of redemption. Even the music of the liturgy as it was performed in the larger churches could be reflected visually by the choirs of angels with musical instruments who appear in the upper tracery of the windows at Gresford and on the angel roofs of churches like Llangollen. Angelic music signalled healing and spiritual interiority (Binski 1997, 362) and the presence of angelic musicians reinforces this aspect of the sung liturgy.

communication in an age when access to books was difficult both intellectually and practically: but we are also looking at different kinds of communication involving textual as well as visual literacy. The visual image could enhance the spiritual understanding of the written word by adding layers of meaning and interpretation and reinforcing the emotional and affective power of the text (Camille 1985 (1), 134-5; Lewis 1991, 1-32). The parallel systems of meaning in medieval hermeneutics were ideally adapted to such enhancement. In our information-laden culture, we privilege the written word as a repository and communicator of new data. Without wishing to get involved in chicken-and-egg arguments about whether literacy promotes rational thought and the information society or whether rationalism and the desire for information promote literacy, we can see that the visual imagery of medieval religion is designed for slower and more contemplative consumption. In the same way, the medieval reading of text involved far more in the way of memorizing and meditation than modem reading with its emphasis on the speedy scanning of pages and the processing of information (for some medieval commentary see Duggan 1989, 246-7). The visual image could serve to recall what had been learned, but it also functioned as a mnemonic device to aid the actual process of learning. The intensely affective piety of the later medieval period was itself part of the mnemonic process. Medieval memory theory suggested that powerful and emotive images helped to imprint information on the memory as well as inspiring devotion (Gill forthcoming, ch 1). Ironically, the move from vocal to silent reading, normally considered an advance in literacy, made the visual image more not less important. Silent reading facilitated a more private, meditative consumption of the written word, nearer to the monastic lectio divina in which internalization means memorization, inscribing the sacred text in the soul. The meditation of the learned but technically illiterate on a visual image which can be 'read' then provide material for devout contemplation is an almost identical process. It was possible to engage in such meditation both privately and in church, responding to the imagery on walls and windows as well as to images in a book. Duffy reminds us (1992, 123) that private spiritual meditation in church can be an intensely communal activity when the liturgy prompts a group of worshippers to focus on the same verbal or pictorial representation. For both literate and illiterate, the visual imagery in a medieval church served as a guide to the liturgy, providing triggers for thought and action and in some cases even guiding movement around the church. The theory of a nave/chancel dichotomy, with the nave reserved for things of this world ( such as the depictions of the virtues and the vices) and the chancel for the things of heaven does not work. There are too many exceptions, from the meditation on the Crucifixion on the nave walls at Llandeilo Talybont to the moralising image of the Sunday Christ at Llangybi (Mon) and the grotesques and the emphatically this-worldly satirical figures on misericords in the chancels of many larger churches. However, there is a broad sense in which

Varieties of literacy

Visual imagery could thus supplement and reinforce as well as substituting for text, even for those who were themselves illiterate. However, Clanchy suggests (1993, 13), that by the fifteenth century a substantial minority of the population, female as well as male, would have been functionally literate to a more or less limited extent. We are looking at a range of literacies, from those who could communicate fluently in written Latin or cope with business documents, read government writs or estate accounts, to those who could with help recognise and decode familiar liturgical and other sacred texts. Even the fact that so much writing was in Latin was not necessarily an absolute barrier to those who had never been taught the language. The lives of the saints abound with episodes in which a previously uneducated person is suddenly and miraculously able to understand Latin. Even Hildegard of Bingen claimed (in Scivias) that she came to understand Latin by divine inspiration at the age of 43 in 1141. (Clanchy 1993, 191). But she had been exposed to the Latin liturgy and to Latin manuscripts and inscriptions from an early age. Members of the medieval-religion mailbase discussion group have said that they sometimes seek out and attend the Latin mass not so much for spiritual reasons as to improve their own command of the language (http://www.mailbase.ac. uk/lists/medievalreligion/ 1999-07/htm). Regular repetition would have familiarised many members of the medieval congregation with the basic elements of the liturgy. According to her protege John Fisher, Margaret Beaufort never formally learned Latin but 'had a lytell preceyvynge specially of the rubrysshe of the ordinal for the sayeng of her servyce whiche she dyde well understande' (Duffy 1992, 222). A number of those who saw the images we have been discussing would thus have been able to decode the captions under them, possibly with help from another reader or using the visual image to identify and understand the words. Gregory of Tours even has a story ofa Christian slave who learned to read through looking often enough at picture inscriptions (litteras super iconas) (Camille 1985(2), 33). We are looking at different strategies for 65

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the iconography of a medieval church leads the viewer through the building, from the entrance through the nave and past side altars to the sanctuary and the high altar. Decoration becomes more lavish and more focussed on eucharistic imagery; the tracery of rood and parclose screens channels and focusses the line of sight. At Mold (Flint), the shields borne by the westernmost angels on the corbels of the nave roof are blazoned with the arms of the Stanley family. As we move east, these give way to shields with the Instruments of the Passion, the Crucifixion itself and the chalice and paten of the Eucharist. The angels over the former chancel roof at Llanidloes also have shields with the Instruments of the Passion (plate 50b ). At Llangollen the sequencing is less clear, and monstrous grotesques are interspersed with angelic musicians in the elaborately-carved roof. Further east are the Instruments of the Passion and the Virgin and Child, though still mixed with comic and grotesque carvings. Here it is the increasing richness and elaboration of the roof that signals to the worshipper that he or she is approaching the altar (plate 49a). In the same way, the imagery led the parishioner through the Christian life, offering a commentary on the sacraments which constituted its rites of passage and embodied its basic teaching. The doctrine of the Seven Sacraments was part of the core teaching of the medieval church, set out in the decrees of the Fourth Lateran Council in 1215 and the 1281 Lambeth Council. It was set out in full in the east window at Llandyrnog (Denb: plates 37-39) but its implications can also be read in visual imagery elsewhere. We have already considered the decoration of the fonts which held the water for the sacrament of baptism. The Instruments of the Passion on the fonts at Ceri (Mont: plate Sb) and Bangor Is-coed (Flint) made it clear to all the participants that it was Christ's suffering and sacrifice which made the spiritual rebirth of baptism possible. A fuller guide to the meaning of the Christian life was provided by the symbols of the Evangelists at Bangor Iscoed and the font at Gresford (Denb) with its helper saints and Biblical references (plate 26). This was reinforced by the frequent depiction in stained glass of St John the Baptist, whose baptism of Christ in the river Jordan was the prototype of Christian baptism. The sacraments of confirmation, which admitted the recipient to participation in the Eucharist, and ordination, which conferred the ability to consecrate the bread and wine, were closely linked with the all-pervading visual imagery of the Eucharist. However, as the two sacraments which could only be performed by a bishop, they are also alluded to by the numerous episcopal figures to be found in carvings, frescoes and stained glass. That so many of the male saints of the church were themselves bishops enhanced the public perception of the office. In Wales in particular, when most late medieval bishops were English absentees, the depiction of the great leaders of the Welsh church in the Age of the Saints in episcopal vestments provided an image which could link the office of bishop and the sacraments which the bishop performed with the traditions of the Welsh saints.

The medieval Catholic church is notorious for its devaluing of marriage and married sexuality. Nevertheless, marriage was a sacrament, and in the Seven Sacrament window at Llandyrnog this was one of the sacraments which was directly blessed by a stream of blood from the wounds of the crucified Christ. Marriage was also praised by implication in the narratives of the life of St Anne in the stained glass at Gresford (Denb: plates 12-13) and Hope (Flint). A reference in Lhuyd's Parochialia (1909 ed, i 64) records the burial of Dafydd Ddu Hiraddug at Diserth 'beneath the marriage window', raising the intriguing possibility of a whole series of windows commemorating some or all of the sacraments. The sacrament of penance was reinforced visually by the confessional advice embedded in the representations of the Seven Deadly Sins, the Virtues and the Corporal Acts of Mercy on church walls: and the final anointing of the dying was prefigured by the depiction of Mary Magdalene with her jar of precious ointment. The visual depiction and discussion of the Eucharist As the overwhelming emphasis in the visual imagery makes clear, the most important sacrament in late medieval spirituality was the Eucharist. The elevation of the Host was for the laity the climax of the mass, the ultimate visual representation of the crucified Christ, as it was at that point that he became present in the consecrated bread. The significance of the Eucharist had changed from a communal meal to an object of adoration, displayed in monstrances and venerated as a relic. This new focus on seeing rather than receiving further encouraged the visual representation of the Host as an object for devout contemplation (Bynum 1987, 48-56). The ontological underpinning of the doctrine of transubstantiation was presumably accepted as beyond the comprehension of the majority of lay worshippers. It was a matter for faith rather than understanding, uncompromisingly asserted in bardic poetry as well as in sermons and in penitential counselling. Mirk's Corpus Christi sermon combines repetition of the doctrine of 'the sacrament of Cristis body that is made in the auter by vertu of the holy wordys that the prest sayed ther, and by worchyng of the Holy Gost' with miraculous tales of bleeding hosts, animals worshipping the sacrament, and invalids unable to receive the host by mouth but miraculously enabled to absorb it bodily (Erbe 1905, 16875). Unfortunately, no Welsh translation of this sermon has survived: the manuscript breaks off after the Pentecost sermon. The doctrine was however repeated with varying amounts of detail (but no more theological discussion) by the poets (e.g. Gruffudd Gryg: Williams, I., and Roberts, 1935, 141; Ieuan ap Hywel Swrdwal: Morrice 1908, 27). The implications of the doctrine did to some extent distance the eucharist from the experience of the average parishioner. The fear of loss or defilement of the precious elements meant that lay communicants were only offered the more manageable wafer rather than the easily-spilled wine. Increasing emphasis was placed on the appalling consequences of receiving the eucharist in a state of sin; so as James of Vitry explained, 'since sins have so multiplied

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in this land, it is permitted that communion be received by the laity only once a year, that is at Easter'. Preparation for the Easter communion involved making full confession of sins, receiving absolution and performing the appropriate penance (publicly if necessary). The communicant also had to be in good financial standing with the church and to be in charity with neighbours and fellow parishioners (Rubin 1991, 148-9). Faced with this awesome series of demands, it is not perhaps surprising that ordinary lay people communicated so infrequently. A distinction in spirituality developed between reverencing and consuming the Host. Regular consumption was particularly characteristic of the most fervent female mystics, much of whose piety revolved around eucharistic imagery (Bynum 1987 passim, esp pp 73-7; Duffy 1992, 127). For the ordinary parishioner, however, a range of paraeucharistic practices offered some substitute. Ordinary bread was blessed and distributed after the Mass, and a 'pax', a token of wood or precious metal inscribed with a depiction of the crucifixion or of the Lamb of God, could be passed around and kissed (Rubin 1991, 73-7; Duffy 1992, 127). The decoration of the pax again reinforced the connection between crucifixion and eucharist. A pax found in Abergavenny (Mon) and possibly intended for parochial use in the priory church there is now in the National Museum of Wales in Cardiff. It is of copper gilt and has the figures of Christ on the cross and St John attached. The figure of the Virgin Mary has been lost since the pax was rediscovered in the nineteenth century. An inscription round the framework takes the form of two Latin hexameters referring to the Crucifixion:

Sacring bells survive inside the churches of Llantrithyd, St Nicholas and Welsh St Donat's in Glamorgan .. Fowler recorded a sanctus bell at Porthkerry (Glam) in 1896, but there is no other mention of this and it does not appear to have survived. Orrin suggests he may have been thinking of the full-sized bell inscribed 'Sancta Maria ora pro nobis' which still hangs in the tower (Orrin 1988, 95, 233, 394, 407-8). Some of the churches of south-west Wales even have separate bellcotes for external sacring bells which could be rung so that the whole community would be aware of what was taking place in the church (Crossley and Ridgway 1957, quoting RCAHM 1925 [Pembs] 26 and 34, Brawdy and Burton). Liturgical developments - bells, incense, the lighting of candles and torches - served to make the eucharist more of a mystery, but also drew parishioners in to participate in the crucial moment of elevation. The emphasis in surviving visual depictions of Christ's birth narrative on the epiphany, the showing to the Magi as much as the nativity itself, may be connected with this focus on seeing rather than consuming the Host. A permanent iconographic presence for the Eucharist was provided by the numerous representations in carvings and stained glass of elevated hosts, hosts with chalices and hosts with IHS monograms. As we have already noted, the chalice and paten appear in some extended depictions of the Instruments of the Passion, as they figure in the events leading up to the Crucifixion. Chalices, patens and Eucharistic hosts are also represented in what appears to be a more liturgical context. Lewis (1970, 93) pours scorn on the artistic qualities of the clerical figure now at the apex of a window in the south aisle at Tremeirchion (Flint): it is, he says, 'appallingly drawn', with squinting eyes and a large nose and mouth. The face is in fact so idiosyncratic as to make one wonder whether it is deliberate - could it be a portrait? The vestments identify it as a cleric but it has no obvious tonsure. The hair is long and blown outwards from the face. In spite of the apparent crudity of the drawing, the Eucharistic imagery is powerful: the figure holds up two large hosts, holding them reverentially with hands covered with the vestments. Hands holding hosts and chalices also appear in fragmentary stained glass at Caerwys (Flint), Llanelidan (Denb) and Llanrhaiadr-yng-Nghinmeirch (Denb ). At Llandyrnog the depiction of the sacrament of the Eucharist in the Seven Sacraments window is reinforced by chalices and monogrammed hosts in the outer tracery lights. The focal point of this guiding liturgical imagery, and the dominant theme in the decoration of most late medieval churches, was the rood screen, surmounted by the carving of the Crucifixion and possibly backed by a depiction of the Last Judgement. Positioned on and behind the screen which separated nave from chancel, representations of Christ's wounded body gave symbolic access to Heaven and physical access to the part of the church where the Eucharist was celebrated. In practical terms, however, for the parishioner gazing on the elevated host, the rood screen could be an obstruction. In particular, those kneeling at side altars or in chantry chapels could have their view blocked by the wainscotting of rood screen or parclose. Duffy prints several illustrations of the crude attempts

IN CRUCIS H[If A]C SPECIE IHC B[?E]N[?E] MO[N]ST[RA]T ... ALMA BEAT TUA MUN[ER]A [or possibly VULNERA] LAUDAT

It is difficult to supply a full reading or an exact translation, though the lines clearly glorify the Crucifixion and Christ's sacrifice and may refer to Mary's involvement. McNeil Rushforth suggested 'Here under the form of the Crucifix Jesus clearly shows the fashion of his death, which gracious Mary accounts blessed and glorifies thy sacrifice/wounds' (Wheeler 1930, 356-8 and plate 51) The other substitute for actual communion was to see the elevation of the host, Christ made visible in form of bread. This, theologians argued, could do no harm even if the beholder was in a state of sin. The elevation thus became the central moment of the eucharist for the lay participant. It was signalled by the ringing of the sacring bell, so that worshippers at side altars and those who were following the service or absorbed in parallel devotions, using their own primers and books of hours or the visual imagery in the church, could focus on the altar. Squints gave a clearer view to worshippers at side altars as well as allowing the priests celebrating at those altars to co-ordinate their progress through the liturgy. Squints can be small apertures (as at Llantwit Major: plate 57a) but at Penallt (Mon: plate 61a) and in several churches in south-west Wales passage squints allow worshippers to move easily from one altar to another.

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made in some English churches to deal with this by punching holes through the woodwork. Welsh rood screens tend to be decorated with carved tracery rather than the painted panels which are so spectacular a feature of English screens. The Welsh screens therefore frequently had a lower dado which parishioners at side altars could see over. The decoration of the Welsh screens was often extended to the lower sections, with elaborately pierced tracery in the dado, and in some cases (as at Llanengan, Caems, and Llanrwst, Denb: plates 40b, 56b), the whole wainscot panelling was transpierced. The screen thus became less an obstruction than a frame for the eucharist. Parclose screens could also be pierced (as at Gresford: plate 27) to allow worshippers in side chapels to view the high altar as well. The function of the rood screen as a frame for the contemplation and reception of the Eucharist was further enhanced by an abundance of reinforcing imagery. Most Welsh screens were decorated with vine-trails and grapes recalling the wine of the Eucharist and the Biblical metaphors of the true vine and the winepress. Other common decorative elements included com sheaves (an obvious reference to the bread of the Host) and oak leaves with the acorns which the poets likened to the beads of the rosary. At Llanrwst (Denb) the tracery over the archways includes the Agnus Dei and the Instruments of the Passion (plate 56a), and at Llanengan (Caems) the Five Wounds appear on one of the panels of the eastern parapet (plate 41a). At Betws Gwerful Goch (Meir) the pelican in her piety on the wall-plate of the south wall in the chancel confronts a dragon on the north wall plate. These are unusual carvings to find in such a position, and it has been suggested (Kightly 1998) that they were originally part of the parapet of the rood screen. The complex relationship of Incarnation, Redemption and Eucharist could be further explored in the stained glass of the chancel. As well as the obvious depictions of the Crucifixion, the angels with their chalices of blood and the Sacraments themselves, there was a range of ways in which the subject matter chosen for the east window (or indeed for any window above an altar) could provide a detailed commentary on the significance of the sacrament celebrated there. Details of some of the crucifixion windows incorporate specific references to liturgy and belief. We have already considered the way in which the Crucifixion at Llangadwaladr (Ang) picks up the imagery of the psalm from the Palm Sunday liturgy. The tau cross, which appears in the Crucifixions at Llangadwaladr (Ang) and Llanwrin (Mont) and in the depictions of the Trinity at Llanrhychwyn (Caems: plate 55a) and Llanfechell (Ang), reinforces the eucharistic imagery of blood sacrifice and redemption. The tau was the sign of the just in Ezekiel 9.4 and was also identified with the 'sign of the Son of Man' in the apocalypse in Matthew 24. It was traditionally understood as the sign of deliverance which the people of Israel painted in blood on their doorposts at the Passover. This was the subject of the second of the lessons in the Good Friday liturgy, which was read immediately before St John's account of the Passion (O'Reilly 1987, 154).

In his analysis of the stained glass at Wells Cathedral, where the high altar is surmounted by a complex Jesse window, Ayers discusses the significance of the Tree of Jesse in the context of the Eucharist. The tree itself is by the later medieval period almost invariably depicted as a vine, recalling again the profound symbolism of the wine of the Eucharist. The tree has also to be read as the Tree of Life, in contrast to the tree from which Adam and Eve ate the fatal apple and the tree on which Christ was crucified. As a visual representation of Christ's earthly ancestry, whether derived from his mother or from his earthly father, the Jesse Tree emphasises Christ's corporeality. This was a fundamental Christological point, but was also important in the context of the doctrine of the Real Presence in the Eucharist. The Virgin and Child at the focal point of the Jesse Tree also stress Christ's corporeality and the mystery of the Incarnation as well as presenting an affective image of his humanity and powerlessness as a counterweight to his royal lineage (Ayers 1996, 259-69). The Jesse tree at Llanrhaiadr-yng-Nghinmeirch is surmounted by a pelican in her piety, tearing at her breast to feed her young (plate 54). We have already considered this powerful image in the context of the breastfeeding Virgin and the medieval identification of breast milk with blood. Above the north altar at Llanrhaiadr, the altar most commonly dedicated to the Virgin Mary, it carries a complex of significances. With its reference to sacrificial maternal care, it refers to Mary's own sacrifice in giving up her son to suffering and death, and the sword which Simeon prophesied would pierce her soul (Luke ii, 35). The pelican's blood relates directly to Christ's blood shed at the Crucifixion and to the wine of the Eucharist. There are overtones here, though, of the maternal imagery applied to Christ by theologians from Anselm and Bernard of Clairvaux to the mystic Julian of Norwich, which describes Christ as sheltering souls as a mother hen does her chicks, comforting those who are hurt and resuscitating the dead (for an extended discussion of this theme see Bynum 1982, 110-35 and references therein). This interpretative framework can be further extended. Many of the surv1vmg east windows include representations of the symbols of the evangelists, by whom the story of Christ's sacrifice was told. At Llandymog and Diserth, the Apostles who participated in the first Eucharist appear above the altar with their Creed, which explored its significance. The surviving fragments of the Apostles sequences at Caerwys and Llanfair Dyffryn Clwyd are no longer in the east windows but earlier descriptions of those churches suggest that may have been their original location. The numerous representations of the martyr saints echo Christ's sacrifice in their own suffering and death, reenacting Christ's sufferings and re-presenting the redemptive sacrifice to the world. The are not attempting to replace or substitute for that suffering but to imitate it in order to experience empathy with it and ultimately to participate in it. Since women were considered to be more circumscribed by the physical world, more embodied, than men, they were paradoxically more able to identify themselves and to be identified with the physicality of

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Christ's sufferings (Bynum 1987; Ross 1997, 95-6). Some of the saints depicted in chancel windows have a more specific eucharistic significance. Barbara was particularly important in the context of eucharistic imagery: Christ had promised her that those who called on her would be guaranteed to receive absolution and the Eucharist at the hour of their death. As a result she was often depicted carrying a chalice and wafer. An addition to the Golden Legend version of her life tells the story of a man who was nearly burnt to death in a fire. He called on St. Barbara, to whom he had always had a special devotion. She aided him to escape from the burning house and kept him alive until he could receive the sacraments. Other virgin martyrs received the same promise in some versions of their vitae (Duffy 1991, 189). Bynum suggests (1987, 81) that the eucharist was particularly associated with female saints. As well as the Virgin Mary (because of the association between Incarnation and eucharist) she identifies Mary Magdalen, possibly because her fasting and asceticism points to the contrast between physical and spiritual food and the way in which medieval spirituality emphasises the need to abstain from the former in order to receive the latter. Mary Magdalene was also identified in medieval tradition with the Marriage at Cana, at which Christ miraculously turned water into wine, prefiguring the Last Supper and the miracle of the Eucharist. According to one tradition the bridal couple at Cana were Mary Magdalene and St John the Evangelist. St John chose to remain chaste within marriage and follow Christ. Mary succumbed to sexual temptation but eventually repented (Mulder-Bakker 1995, 248). There are also eucharistic implications in the nurturing miracles performed by the virgin martyrs. The Welsh Life of St Catherine refers to the legend that when she was beheaded milk flowed instead of blood, and that a healing oil flowed from her relics (Williams, J.E.C., 1973). There were nevertheless male saints with powerful eucharistic connections. Christopher was normally painted opposite the church door so that he could be seen easily. However, he is also depicted in stained glass and may have been associated with chancel and altar because, as he bore Christ across the river, so the priest at the altar bears Christ to the congregation. John the Baptist had a complex of eucharistic connotations. It was he who foretold Christ's redemptive sacrifice in words which echo the story of the Passover: 'Behold the Lamb of God which takes away the sin of the world'. John the Baptist was frequently depicted standing, with the Agnus Dei in his arms, a reference to the prophecy. These words and the image they convey were used repeatedly in the liturgy of the Mass, and the appearance of the Agnus Dei, surrounded by a disc-like halo, was a visual reminder of the appearance of the Host. In depictions of his martyrdom, as at Gresford (plate 23b ), his head on the great plate which Salome holds is like a bizarre parody of the Eucharistic host on the paten. Indeed, the whole of the banqueting scene in the Gresford window reads like a parody on traditional depictions of the Last Supper at which the Eucharist was instituted. Herod's hand is raised in what would in another context be a gesture of

blessing. The eyes of the other participants seem fixed on him rather than on the head which Salome is carrying. There are even some Old Testament parallels which could be used to enrich this visual meditation on the Eucharist and its significance. The story of Abraham and Isaac was generally understood as a type of the Crucifixion. Abraham and his wife Sarah had one son, Isaac, conceived miraculously in their old age. God commanded Abraham to sacrifice his son: and Abraham obediently prepared to do so, but at the last minute God provided a ram instead for the sacrifice. In their obedience to God's command, Abraham and Isaac prefigured God's own willingness to sacrifice his son and Christ's obedience to his father's commands. The presence of Abraham and Isaac in the stained glass of the Lady Chapel at Gresford is therefore a visual pointer to yet another shade of meaning in the sacrifice re-enacted on the altar there. Reverence for the altar and its numinous miracle could be further signalled by the construction of a reredos behind it and a canopy of honour over it. Wales has few surviving reredoses, possibly because they were too vulnerable to iconoclastic damage and destruction. Those which survive were constructed to provide niches for statues which could in some cases have continued the eucharistic theme. At Llancarfan in the Vale of Glamorgan a late medieval screen behind the altar has nine canopied niches and numerous smaller projecting canopy heads. The debate over the origins of this remarkable piece of wood-carving continues: Orrin (1988, 184) suggests that it was either part of the main rood screen or adapted from the choir stalls of a much larger church. Newman (1995, 375), however, accepts it as a genuine medieval reredos. This interpretation was earlier suggested by Crossley and Ridgway in their authoritative series of articles (1958, 88). Crossley and Ridgway suggest, however, that it has suffered 'ill-treatment and a good deal of misguided reconstruction', in the course of which timber from other sources has been incorporated and part of the original work discarded, which seems the most likely explanation for the complexity and confusing appearance of the present structure. A more intricate stone reredos can be found in a remarkable state of preservation at Llantwit Major, also in the Vale of Glamorgan. A total of 22 niches with canopies of varying degrees of richness and elaboration are arranged in two tiers. The central panel has tiers of five and six niches with multifoiled canopies and a central niche wider and higher than the others, with moulded shafts, internal vaulting and a brattished and pinnacled canopy. On either side of this section are two-tier niches with moulded shafts and elaborate tabernacles. The outer sections each have three niches over a door leading to the vestry which occupies the space behind the reredos. Local tradition states that the niches were once occupied by gilded statues of the Apostles (Orrin 1988, 244). This is a feasible suggestion for the top row of twelve niches, with either Christ or the Virgin and Child in the larger and more elaborately decorated central niche. Statues of the Apostles would continue the eucharistic imagery, as it was they who shared the first eucharist. 69

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An elaborately carved early 13th century niche now on the east wall of the south aisle chapel at Llantwit Major (plate 57) appears to have been relocated and has been suggested as an earlier reredos (Orrin 1988, 246). It would be suitable for the purpose as it depicts the Tree of Jesse. At the base of the niche is the recumbent figure of Jesse, with the vine-stem growing out of his left side and dividing to climb up both sides of the niche. The heads of the kings of the house of David peep out of the scrolled leaves and Christ's head is at the top of the arch. The niche presumably held a statue of the Virgin and Child. The Jesse Tree with its eucharistic imagery also appears on the reredos at Christchurch Priory (Han ts) and in the parish church of St Cuthbert's, Wells: and it is possible that the massive oak figure of Jesse at Abergavenny (Mon) (plate 2b) was once part of a reredos, either at the high altar or in the chapel at the east end of the north aisle, which is where Symonds saw it in 1645 (Long 1859, 238). However it is also possible that the Llantwit Major niche was originally intended not as a full-scale reredos but as a niche flanking the altar. At Mold (Flint), a niche similar in subject though much later in style is apparently in its original position south of the altar at the east end of the south aisle. The priory church at Abergavenny may have had at least one other reredos of carved alabaster. It was for some time believed that the alabaster panels on several of the medieval tombs in the Herbert chapel of the priory church were not originally part of the tombs and may have come from one or even two reredoses. The panels include the two groups of the Twelve Apostles with their creeds, the Annunciation and the Virgin and Child with St Katherine and St Margaret (plates 1-2). Octavius Morgan (1872) suggested that the panels depicting the apostles could not have been part of the tomb because they were too long to fit properly. Recent restoration has however suggested that the panels were part of the original fabric of the tombs but that they suffered during the reconstruction of the tomb bases in the seventeenth century (Michael Eastham and Philip Lindley, pers. comm: I am grateful to Dr Lindley and Mr Eastham for spending some time discussing the iconography and conservation of the tombs with me). The reconstruction involved rebuilding the tomb bases around hollow cores, possibly to reduce the weight on the vaults beneath, and it seems that the new cores did not fit the old panelling. Michael Eastham has however suggested that the panel depicting the Ascension of the Virgin from the tomb of Sir Richard Herbert of Ewias may have been relocated. The panel includes the figures of Sir Richard and his wife Margaret Cradock, kneeling on either side of the Virgin Mary's feet. and it fits stylistically with the rest of the tomb. However, it obviously does not fit on the stone plinth which now supports it and the other figures of the Herbert family in the niche behind the effigy of Sir Richard. The paint on the plinth suggests that it is part of the original structure, so if anything has been relocated it is the alabaster panel. The Assumption of the Virgin is an unusual subject for an altar reredos but might possibly have come from a Lady Chapel. If the reredos was the gift of the Herbert family or if they were particularly connected

with the Lady Chapel their presence as patrons on the alabaster panel would be appropriate. One would expect a Lady Chapel to be located to the north, so if the Assumption panel was part of the altar reredos there the Jesse figure must have been relocated. The Jesse figure is undeniably large for a side altar and is perhaps more likely to have been associated with the main altar. However, we cannot prove conclusively that the Assumption panel was indeed part of a reredos. It could have come from elsewhere in the church: or, in spite of the fact that it does not fit exactly with the stonework in the tomb niche, it may always have been there. It is impossible now to say whether medieval reredoses are so rare in Wales because they were not a popular form of decoration or because they have been particularly vulnerable to destruction. There are however a number of surviving canopies of honour, ranging from the slight elaboration of the ceiling in the Raglan chapel at Llancarfan (Glam) to the unbelievable intricacy of Llangollen (Denb: plate 49a): though it should be remembered that the plainer canopies were probably painted with varying degrees of elaboration. Glynne recorded paintings of the four evangelists on the sacrarium roof of the abandoned church at Llandanwg (Meir) (Crossley and Ridgway 1945,162, quoting Glynne 1852, 275). The panels of the canopy at Gyffin (Caems) are decorated with saints, apostles and the emblems of the evangelists. The non-apostolic saints are all female, offering some support for Bynum's suggestion (1987, 81) that female saints are particularly associated with the eucharist. As well as the Virgin Mary, they include Mary Magdalene and Brigid, both of whom, as we have seen, had eucharistic connections. However, the main emphasis at Gyffin is arguably on biblical authority, for the narrative of the Crucifixion and the commentaries which draw out its significance. The inclusion of St Andrew and St Philip in the group of seven apostles may also have eucharistic significance. Both are mentioned by name in St John's account of the miracle of the loaves and fishes (John 6, 113), which is one of the miracles prefiguring the Last Supper. The basket which Philip carries as his emblem refers to this episode. At nearby Llanelian-yn-Rhos (Denb) faint traces of painting on the canopy include the Virgin with St Anne, the Annunciation, the Adoration of the Shepherds and the Adoration of the Magi. The other panels are too faded for certain identification but it is possible that they include the Nativity and other scenes from the life-cycle of the Virgin Mary (Hirst 1999). The Annunciation certainly fits into a scheme of eucharistic imagery, depicting the moment at which the Word becomes flesh, as the bread becomes flesh at the moment of consecration. The Adoration of the Shepherds and the Magi represent the showing of the infant Christ to the world as the priest shows the consecrated bread to the people at the Elevation. The whole life cycle of the Virgin Mary would be relevant to the celebration of the Eucharist because of her role in making Christ flesh, as the priest makes the bread flesh at the consecration.

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The canopy of honour also provided yet another medium for the depiction of reinforcing images of the Passion and related subjects. At Llangollen, the decoration of the barrel vault includes the Instruments of the Passion, vine trails and sheaves of corn, while the hammerbeams have angels with still more carvings of the Instruments of the Passion as well as the Virgin and Child and Christ in Majesty (plates 49a-b ). A number of other canopies of honour have vine trails and supporting angels with the Instruments of the Passion (as at Caerwys, Flint: plate 5a). The rood and its screen were further drawn into corporate worship by their use in the liturgy. The loft could be used for the reading of the gospel during the Mass and even for preaching. Rood lofts could be substantial constructions: the loft at Llancarfan (Glam) is about nine feet wide and may have incorporated a rood altar (Crossley and Ridgway 1958, 88). The corbels in north and south nave walls at Colwinston (Glam) indicate another broad loft, and there is a squint above and to the north of the chancel arch which may have given a line of sight from a rood altar to the high altar. The lofts at Llanfrynach (plate 41b) and Llangynwyd (both Glam) also had squints through the chancel arch, possibly indicating the sites of rood altars. Several lofts have pierced wainscotting or tympana to the east to allow a kneeling choir to follow the service and see the elevation of the host (plate 31b). The loft at Llandderfel (Meir) was said to be able to hold 60 people. This was more than would be needed for a choir at regular services, but may suggest that the loft was brought into use in the traditional processions on Palm Sunday or Corpus Christi, the two feasts when the host was brought out to meet the congregation and carried in procession around the church and parish. The eucharistic imagery used in the decoration of the lofts and screens thus acquired further significance as the framework through which the body of Christ could be brought to the people as well as the framework through which they could contemplate and at times approach it.

association of one's own tomb with the symbolic tomb of Christ was a powerful statement of faith and hope. Other parishes had substantial wooden structures intended solely or primarily for the Easter re-enactment. Eluned Martin has suggested (pers. comm.) that there may be a symbolic significance in the choice of material. Wood was a reminder of the wood of the Cross, but also of the wood of the Tree of Knowledge which began the story of human sinfulness, and of the Tree of Life. Stone had resonances not only of the stone tomb but also of the cave which was the traditional location for the Nativity in medieval religious art. It is equally likely, however, that availability of materials and the necessary craft skills was the deciding factor. At Coety (Glam), a gabled chest on legs has panels decorated with the Five Wounds and the Instruments of the Passion (plates 8-10). This is almost certainly an Easter sepulchre. The panels are original late 15th century or early 16th century work but the framework has been heavily restored. It is even possible that the original structure was designed to be carried in procession like the tabernacles illustrated in the Corpus Christi liturgies (see e.g. Cambridge Fitzwilliam MS 34 p 212, reproduced in Rubin 1991, 254). The 'vestment chest' decorated with the Five Wounds and the Instruments of the Passion in the ancient parish church of Bedwellty (Mon) may also have served at one time as an Easter sepulchre. As well as the more obvious Passion imagery, both chests are decorated with formalised flowers which may have been intended as roses or lilies. Both have profound resonances associated with the Virgin Mary. The lily was a reminder of Mary's perpetual virginity; the rose pointed to her symbol, the rose without a thorn (commemorated in the medieval hymn Ave Rosa sine spina). In the context of the Crucifixion, these emblems reminded viewers of her suffering presence at the Crucifixion and the part she played in the narrative of redemption (Eluned Martin, pers. comm.). Elsewhere, the decoration of church walls may hint at the location of permanent or temporary sepulchres, as at Llantwit Major (Glam), where Mary Magdalene is painted with her jar of precious ointment on the north wall of the chancel (plate 58b). The ritual associated with the Easter sepulchre took parishioners from the solemnity and grief of the Good Friday liturgy to the triumphant rejoicing of Easter. The Host had already been consecrated on Maundy Thursday, for there was no Mass on Good Friday. After the solemn reading of the whole Crucifixion narrative from St John's Gospel, the congregation crept barefoot and on their knees to kiss a crucifix. A reminder of hope still lay in the words repeated by the priests holding the cross: Lord, we adore your cross, and we praise and glorify your holy resmTection.Behold therefore, joy has come into the whole world through the cross

The ritual and iconography of the Easter Sepulchre The festivals themselves have left little visual record in Welsh churches. What we do have is evidence for the complex of ceremonies involving the Easter sepulchre. This was the ritual re-enactment of Christ's burial and resurrection, and involved the symbolic interment of a consecrated host. The 'sepulchre' was normally a timber frame which might be covered with an embroidered or stained cloth, but some parishes had a more permanent structure. At Cwm (Flint), Old Radnor, Llansawel (Carrus) and Bletherston (Pembs), substantial recesses in the north wall of the chancel have been tentatively identified as Easter sepulchres (Hubbard 1994, 340; Haslam 1979, 264; RCAHM 1917 [Carms] 190; RCAHM 1925 [Pembs] 19). The Royal Commission warns that these may well in fact be tomb recesses, but it would not be unusual for a tomb recess to be used as an Easter sepulchre. Duffy describes a number of tombs which were explicitly designed for use in this ritual and appropriately decorated with Resurrection imagery (1992, 32; see plates 8-10 for examples). The

The anthems which followed, Crux fide/is and Pange lingua, further emphasised the glory of the Cross and the hope of salvation it brought: and as we have seen the imagery of the Wounds and the Instruments of the Passion, which appeared on many sepulchres, was intended to

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inspire hope as well as remorse. Visual imagery could also provide an ever-present reminder of the Resurrection: it is depicted in the surviving stained glass at Llangadwaladr (Ang) and by implication in the Christ in Majesty on the north wall at Llandeilo Talybont (Glam). But the visual message conveyed by the ritual re-enactment of Christ's death and burial was one of grief and repentance, and a close personal identification with the events being reenacted. The crucifix and the consecrated host in its pyx were wrapped in cloths and laid in the sepulchre. A watch with candles was kept until Easter day, and endowments were sometimes dedicated to the provision of candles and wax (as at Llandegfedd, Mon: Gray 1991, 32). On Easter day all the lights in the church were lit, the host was returned to the high altar and the crucifix was carried

round the church to the anthem Christus Resurgens, 'Christ rising again from the dead dies no more ... Alleluia, Alleluia'. Again the congregation crept to kiss the foot of the cross, but this time with joy rather than mourning (Legg 1916, 106-37; Erbe 1905, 124-9). The ceremonial would have been simplified in the little churches of the Welsh hills but the possible survival of a permanent sepulchre at Bedwellty suggests that it would still have been taken seriously. As with the iconography of the Bound Christ, the embellishment of the Easter Sepulchre and its associated liturgical practices linked Crucifixion and Resurrection and provided a permanent reminder of their implications for the ritual of the Eucharist.

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Chapter Eight The Destruction of the Images The destruction of so much of this visual imagery has now acquired a mythology of its own. The assumption that everything was wiped away in obedience to Government fiat at the Reformation or destroyed during the Civil War is no longer tenable, but local legends of destruction and survival are more enduring. Orrin (1988, 184) records the story of the destruction of the east window at Llancarfan (Glam) during the Civil War by a local farmer named Bush, who is said to have battered the window down, crying 'Down with the great whore of Babylon'. Some of these fables may in fact be true. The glorious Jesse window at Llanrhaiadr-yng-Nghinmeirch (Denbs) is generally believed to have been preserved virtually undamaged during the Civil War and Commonwealth by the parishioners, who dismantled it and buried it in the parish chest. The story was recorded by Browne Willis in 1721, at which time it would almost have been within living memory (Willis 1721, 326-7). Much of our evidence, however, relates to more recent destruction. Some of this was accidental: ignorance rather than deliberate iconoclasm was involved when a cleaning company scrubbed the magnificent stained glass windows at Gresford with detergent in 1966, obliterating much of the detail. More deliberate damage was done at Redwick (Mon) as recently as 1948, when the surviving bressumer beam of the rood loft was removed and replaced by a steel joist cased in fake timbering (Crossley and Ridgway 1959, 63-4). Damage was also done to the rood loft, though much of it survives. The beam was decayed and general repairs to the church were necessary as a result of war damage, but Crossley and Ridgway deplored the loss of 'one of the most interesting bressumer beams in Wales'. The choice of a fake replacement for the beam is fascinatingly of its time. The repair decision fell between the two ideals of careful restoration and complete removal or replacement. The repairers claimed that the mouldings on the casing followed exactly the mouldings on the destroyed beam - though according to Crossley and Ridgway 'this is not so, and it is an unfortunate substitute of no interest whatsoever'. It is equally intriguing that post-war enthusiasm for making good should have led the repairers to the radical step of replacing the beam, and that they should then have chosen to replace it with such a bizarrely outright fake. Crossley and Ridgway did however praise their removal of the 'poor softwood screen' which had recently been erected within the chancel arch.

south-eastern border, there is no evidence of any preReformation destruction of images and every reason to assume that traditional practices were maintained in Wales for as long as possible. Chantries were still being founded and endowed in the 1530s; stained glass was still being installed. The fragments at Clocaenog (Denbs) have been dated (Thomas 1874, 405) as late as 1538. They are uncompromisingly pre-Reformation in their iconography, which is focussed on Eucharistic imagery and the Crucifixion. Christ's wounds and blood are strongly emphasised and an angel is collecting his blood in a chalice. By the time this glass was installed, the official attack on images had begun, though it was not until 1547 that the destruction of images in glass was ordered (MacCulloch 1999, 71). The early years of the official campaign against images were marked by a high degree of doctrinal confusion and contradictory instructions. The standard work on the subject, Margaret Aston's England's Iconoclasts (1988), details the Government initiatives and discusses the often conflicting pressures and ideologies behind them. The Ten Articles passed by Convocation in July 1536 and the royal injunctions which followed them in August accepted the value of visual imagery for teaching purposes but instructed the clergy not to 'set forth or extol' them. The dissolution of the smaller monasteries (and in Wales all religious houses came into this category) involved the suppression of some cult images which had been the objects of lay as well as religious devotion (Aston 1988, 225). In Wales, however, shrines (and even shrines which had been focal points for pilgrimage) were transferred from monastic ownership and leased out to lay owners. Llantarnam's shrine to St Derfel at Llandderfel (Mon), which claimed a relic as well as a picture of the saint, was leased to Henry Kemeys of Portishead on 21 Dec 1536 for £4 6s 8d, which included 20s for offerings to the relic (PRO E3 l 5/209 f 20d; SC6 Hen VIIl/2500, 2501 ). The rectory of Cwmiou (Mon) was leased to Nicholas Arnold, a Gloucestershire landowner and one of the Gentlemen Pensioners, in 1539. Offerings to the image of St Leonard in the church had been assessed by the commissioners as worth 6s 8d a year, though the accounts made a nil return for them at Michaelmas 1539 (PRO SC6 Hen VIII/1224). Even the shrine of the Virgin Mary at Penrhys with its famous statue was leased with most of Llantarnam's property to the courtier John Parker 'with all tithes, oblations and profits' in June 1537 (PRO E315/232 f 59). But in August of that year Latimer and Prior Holbeach publicly desecrated the cult statue of the Virgin at Worcester, stripping it of its clothing and jewels and claiming to have discovered that it was actually the statue of a long-forgotten bishop (Aston 1988, 173). The statue was taken to Latimer's London house but not destroyed

Iconoclasm in the early stages of the Reformation We must beware, then, of assuming that the loss of visual imagery in Welsh churches is of long standing. The earliest destruction of images in Wales can nevertheless be assumed to have begun in reponse to the commands of the government. For all the stories about Lollardy along the

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until the autumn of the following year, by which time the shrines at Walsingham, Ipswich, Willesden and Penrhys had also been stripped. Cromwell issued a second set of injunctions to the clergy in October 1538. These have been seen by many historians as a turning-point in the English Reformation. For the first time, devotion to images was denounced as superstitious, 'a common error and abuse crept into the church'. Injunction 7 enjoined parochial clergy

visual imagery in Welsh churches may have survived the purges of 1538 and 1547-53. For the most visible of the Welsh images, though, destruction preceded even the 1538 injunctions. As early as March 1538, William Barlow, the reforming bishop of St David's, reported his destruction of the statue of Our Lady of the Taper in the Benedictine priory at Cardigan (Williams 1997, 125). Barlow subsequently claimed that he had removed images throughout his diocese without any disturbance or opposition and that the people now detested the popish delusions under which they lived. Many historians have taken this absence of open resistance for support. However, in the same letter to Cromwell, Barlow went on to attack the people of St David's itself for 'ungodly ymage service, abhomynable ydolatrye and lycentiouse lybertie of dishonest lyvinge' and asked that the headquarters of the diocese be transferred to Carmarthen (Wright 1843, 206-10). If we compare this with Richard Davies's complaints, we can identify at least some collusion in the protection of images; only the most visible ( and the most accessible) can be shown to have been destroyed at this time. If the Welsh were so loyal to the outward manifestations of traditional religion, why was there not more resistance to its destruction? The reasons for Welsh acquiescence are probably connected with the experience of the past century and a quarter of repression arising out of the Glyndwr uprising. The passing of the first of the Acts of Union had at last offered the Welsh gentry and trading communities a way to local self-government and economic revival within the English state. Opposition to government policies on religion would have put all this at risk. However, as we have seen, the dismantling of traditional observances was by no means as rapid in Wales as central authority might have wished. Even Barlow (who spoke no Welsh) may have been unaware of what was going on in the more remote Welsh-speaking areas of his diocese. The Welsh had had centuries of experience in the art of agreeing outwardly with occupying forces and going their own way. On 5 April 1538, Dr Ellis Price, Cromwell's strong-arm man in the diocese of St Asaph, visited the church at Llandderfel (Meir) with its famous image of Derfel Gadarn. It was St Derfel's Day, and Price found between five and six hundred pilgrims there with offerings - 'some with kyne, others with oxen or horsis and the reste with money' (Wright 1843, 190). The popularity of the shrine seems to have given him pause for thought, but he was eventually able to report that he had ordered the wooden image of the saint to be cut off the animal on which it was mounted and sent to London. If we are to rely on Price's version of events, the parson and parishioners apparently completely misread the situation and misinterpreted the government's policies. They offered Price £40 if he would let the statue remain in the parish. When he refused, they set out for London to complain to Cromwell (Letters and Papers 13(i), 863-4). Price's contemporary Elis Gruffydd suggested Price may in fact have been motivated by personal antagonism towards the rector of Llandderfel. Subsequent commentators have shared this scepticism, suggesting

that such feigned images as ye know of in any of your cures to be so abused with pilgrimages or offerings of anything made thereunto, ye shall, for avoiding that most detestable sin of idolatry, forthwith take down and delay, and shall suffer from henceforth no candles, tapers or images of wax to be set afore any image or picture, but only the light that commonly goeth across the church by the rood-loft, the light before the sacrament of the altar, and the light about the [Easter] sepulchre, which for the adorning of the church and divine service ye shall suffer to remain .. (Aston 1988, 226-7)

Aston suggests that delay (also spelt deley) could mean either delete (i.e. destroy) or - perhaps more likely - delate (remove or put away). The ambiguity may or may not have been deliberate, but the wording of the whole instruction still left room for manoeuvre and negotiation. Rood lofts could still be illuminated; the sacrament reserved on the altar was still worthy of lights; the ritual of the Easter sepulchre was preserved. What distinguished the 'abused' and 'feigned' images from the legitimate use of images for teaching was the existence of pilgrimages and the making of offerings. This attempt to establish a distinction between proper and improper use of images was confused and ultimately impracticable. It gave scope to iconoclasts to claim that all images had the potential for abuse and should be removed; it also offered iconodules the defence that their images had not been abused. The Welsh response to the Reformation All the evidence suggests that the Welsh were generally slow to attack images, and continued to venerate them where they could. Reports from bishops such as Nicholas Robinson of Bangor in 1567 of images and altars standing in churches undefaced, lewd and indecent vigils ... many candles set up to the honour of saints, some relics yet carried about, and all the country full of beads and knots (Jones 1989, 234)

and Richard Davies of St Davids' complaint in 1577 that even the magistrates defend papistry, superstition and idolatry, pilgrimages to wells and blind chapels, and they procure the wardens of churches in time of visitation to perjury, to conceal images, roodlofts and altars (Funeral sermon ... for the Earl of Essex, transcribed in Herbeti and Jones 1988, 126)

demonstrate the dangers of assuming that Government commands are any guide to what happened at parochial level. If these complaints are rooted in reality, much of the 74

The Destruction of the Images

Price may have invented the story that local people believed the statue had power to save souls from hell. The offer of £40 to save the statue suggests they knew their man: Price was from a local family and had already had a chequered career as one of Cromwell's enforcers. On the other hand, it has been suggested that he would have been unlikely to refuse such a substantial sum if it had really been offered (Evans 1993, 137-51). The statue was eventually taken to Smithfield for burning. On 22 May it formed part of the small pyre over which the recalcitrant Observant friar John Forest was slowly roasted to death. This, it was said, was done in fulfilment of the prophecy that the statue would one day set a forest on fire. Latimer preached a jubilant sermon and prepared to ignore the potential threat posed by several hundred disaffected Welshmen. There is no evidence of public disorder following the destruction of the statue: but the wooden animal on which it had been mounted remained near the communion rails in the church until at least 1730. It is now in the church porch. It was reputedly the object of local veneration as late as the nineteenth century but was also used in the parish games on Easter Tuesday when it was fixed to a pivot and the children of the parish were given rides on it (Thomas 1874, 697-8; Evans 1993, 137-51).

his own efficiency and capacity for service, or out of a wish to protect the people who had attempted to defend the statue. He may even have felt some unease himself about what he was doing; it is noticeable that he refers to the statue as 'our Lady' and speaks of 'her' clothing. I have used this document as a focus for discussing responses to the Reformation in Wales with a number of groups of students, and it was one of these, Caroline Martin, who came up with the most radical suggestion: that the statue which was sent to London could have been a fake, and the original could have been concealed, either at Penrhys or in Herbert's home at Newport (Mon). This is mere speculation, but it is not impossible. What does appear from the letter is that the dismantling of the shrine and the seizing of the statue was not as straightforward as Herbert wished Cromwell to believe, and that there may have been considerable resistance. Rescue and preservation

In other cases we have clearer proof of deliberate strategies for the preservation of crucial images. These must have involved more or less public actions and we can thus assume that they were widely supported. We need therefore to ask why certain images were selected for preservation when others were apparently allowed to be destroyed. Gail McMurray Gibson's assumption (in Ashley and Sheingorn 1990, 96) that it was invariably the most significant images which were preserved is not always borne out by the actual facts of survival. Her argument is based on the preservation of an alabaster from Long Melford depicting the Nativity and the Adoration of the Magi, which she claims represented the mystery of the Incarnation but also helped and comforted women in childbed. There are a number of examples in Wales of the apparently deliberate preservation of doctrinally central images such as the Crucifixion; there are also examples of the survival of scraps of stained glass, carved wood and stone which may have had an iconic significance beyond their representational qualities for the people who rescued them. The clearest example in Wales of the deliberate preservation (and perhaps even the restoration) of a central image is that of the figure of the crucified Christ from the rood at Kemeys Inferior (Mon: plate 29). This was found walled up in the rood loft stairs during the restoration of the church in about 1855, with several skulls and other bones (Crossley and Ridgway 1959, 39). However, examination of the figure, now in the National Museum of Wales, suggests that one of the arms had been broken off and replaced at some point before it was hidden. Crossley and Ridgway quote a suggestion (made in Montgomeryshire Collections 53 (ii), 1954) that the figure might have been damaged when it was first taken from the rood, in or soon after 1538, but then put in safe keeping. They then suggest that the figure might have been repaired and replaced on the surviving part of the rood screen during the Catholic revival under Mary Tudor. It would then have been removed and hidden soon after Elizabeth's

The evidence for the destruction of the shrine of the Virgin Mary at Penrhys has some puzzling contradictions which may enable us to gauge popular response and guess at the extent of resistance. Latimer had suggested the shrine as a priority target in June 1538 (above p 14). On 16 August Thomas Cromwell wrote to a local gentleman, William Herbert, instructing him to with the chawnceler of the diocess off landaff repayre appon the syght theroff to Penrys, and ther to assi[ s]te the sayd chawnceler to take downe the image of our lady with quietnes and secrett maner as might be (PRO SP 1/136 f 118)

The letter, written at Arundel Castle, took until 23 August to reach Herbert. He was unable to find the chancellor of the diocese but managed to locate the bishop's commissary and some others who Cromwell had instructed him to take with him. However, the search took him three days, and by the time his party reached Penrhys word of their intentions had evidently gone before them. In his report, Herbert mentions only that there was an 'audyence' to whom he delivered a lecture on the king's wishes and Cromwell's concerning the 'idolatrie' of the shrine. He took the statue down and promised that the officials 'wyll brynge the sayd image and her apparell to your lordeshipe wythe al convenyent spede as he maye'. The report, though, was not written until 14 September, nearly three weeks after the events it described; and to judge from Herbert's promise, the officials had not yet set out with their sensitive cargo. Why the delay? There is no hint of an explanation in the letter. The most obvious explanation is that Herbert had more difficulty than he was prepared to admit in securing the statue. He may have felt it advisable to conceal the problem because it reflected on

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accession. Its present fragmentary condition may have been caused by deliberate damage during this second removal but is equally likely to be the result of natural decay during a period of concealment of over three hundred years. That the carving was walled up with skulls and other bones is fascinating and probably inexplicable. It does however suggest the possibility that it may have been hidden elsewhere for a while after its removal from the rood screen and that it might eventually have been walled up in the rood stairs as part of a general clear-out of the chamel house and other storage areas. A disused rood staircase was a convenient place for keeping anything which was no longer needed but which the parish was reluctant to destroy. Dymond (1999, 489) quotes an example from Market Harborough of the walling-up of of a number of seventeenth-century toys (which he suggests had been confiscated from people playing in the churchyard) in the rood stairs of the church. Crossley and Ridgway's suggestion about the first removal and subsequent restoration of the statue is supported by recent research on its paint and carving. The replacement arm is crudely carved and the repaired figure has been roughly repainted in a manner consistent with its having been hurriedly replaced in 1553 (Redknap 2000: I am grateful to Dr Redknap for discussing his findings in advance of publication). The damage - to the arm and possibly to the legs - suggests either a hurried official attack followed by local salvage or possibly unofficial vandalism. The figure of Christ and the possible Virgin Mary from Mochdre (plate 59) seem also to have been deliberately preserved. They were found hidden under the wall-plate of the old church when it was rebuilt in 1867 (Haslam 1979, 163). We know less about the processes by which the other surviving carvings of the crucified Christ were preserved. In his account of the Duke of Beaufort's tour through Wales, Dineley (quoted in Crossley 1946, 35) claimed to have seen the crucifix from the rood at Llanrwst:

family was Catholic, and married into the even more resolutely Catholic Puw family. Enid Roberts' suggestion was that the Bound Christ was felt to be too vulnerable in such a visibly recusant home and was passed for safe keeping to the Gloddaeth branch of the family, which was reliably Protestant but still prepared to respect the values of its Catholic connections. The Bangor figure was certainly at Gloddaeth in the early twentieth century and was regarded as a quaint curiosity: it was kept 'on the minstrel screen in the banqueting hall' (Hemp 1943, 231). The history of this carving thus gives considerable insight into the strategies which could be employed to protect crucial devotional images. The same is true of the Plas y Pentre panels depicting the Bound Christ and St Arrnail, hidden under the floorboards at Plas y Pentre by another Catholic family (above, p 42-43). Iconographically similar to the Bangor and Plas y Pentre figures of the Bound Christ is the carved panel now forming part of the reredos at Betws Gwerful Goch (Meir: plate 4), with its companion panels of Mary, John and the Instruments of the Passion. Bloxham (1882 vol 2, 42), followed by the Royal Commission inventory for Merionethshire (RCAHM 1921, 5) suggested that the panels had originally been a reredos. According to Thomas (1874, 684), quoting from the 1729 report of the Rural Dean, the panels were recorded in that year, when they were standing against one of the walls of the chancel. Thomas seems to have assumed that they were part of the screen. They were subsequently nailed either against the north wall of the singing gallery (Thomas) or on its front (RCAHM 1921, 5) and were eventually taken down, cleaned of several layers of paint and made into a reredos. At some point in this process a sixth panel decorated with arabesque flowers was removed, having become 'rotten and disfigured' (Thomas). This, and the possibility that other panels had been lost earlier, led Crossley and Ridgway to suggest that it was more likely that the panels had originally formed the front of the rood loft and that they might even have replaced free-standing figures above the loft (Crossley and Ridgway 1945, 158). There is no record of any attempt to conceal these panels, though they may have been hidden for some of the time between 1538 and 1729. Panels are easier to hide than freestanding figures: they can simply be reversed to show the blank side. Betws Gwerful Goch is now a remote hamlet but it was a busy enough centre in the early modem period for the concealment of its images to have been a priority. In the seventeenth century and possibly earlier the main road across Wales from Holywell to St David's passed through it (Ogilby 1676 plate 66; Jones 1912, 372). By the end of the seventeenth century it had a weekly market and three fairs a year (Lhuyd 1909, ii 74). Other important images were preserved by being hidden, in churches or elsewhere. An alabaster figure of the Virgin and Child was hidden at the foot of the tower at Cydweli (Carms); it was still kept hidden in the late nineteenth century but was brought out for the visit of the Cambrian Archaeological Association in 1875 (Edwards 1992, 58). At Llantwit Major (Glam), a statue of the Virgin and Child was walled up and hidden in debris in the

Over the timber arch of the chance 11,near the rood loft, lieth hid the ancient figure of the crucifix as bigg as life. This, I suppose, is shewn to none but the curious, and rarely to them.

The caution with which this figure was kept in 1684 suggests both that it was still valued locally and that it was still felt to be vulnerable. It would have been difficult to refuse permission to view it to a member of the entourage of the powerful Duke of Beaufort: that the Duke's family had recent Catholic connections may have been reassuring. This crucifix was for some time identified with the 'Bound Christ' of Bangor, but from Dineley's description it was clearly a figure of Christ on the cross rather than awaiting crucifixion. It has therefore been lost since Dineley saw it. The Bangor figure has subsequently been tentatively identified with the figure of Christ at Rhuddlan Priory (see above pp 42-43). The conjectural history of this figure since the Dissolution involves its rescue and concealment by the branch of the great Mostyn family which acquired much of the contents of the priory. This branch of the

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staircase leading to the upper chamber over the south porch (Orrin 1988, 250-1 ). This chamber may have provided accommodation for a chantry priest or assistant, and would have gone out of use when chantries were abolished in 1547. It may even have been used for the storage of items which had to be removed from the church, and the statue may therefore have been hidden by accident by the collapse of stonework in the staircase. It is more difficult to reconstruct the sequence of events which could have led to the concealment of the holy water stoup at Cadoxton-juxtaBarry (Glam). This was found walled up in the rood loft stairs with several skulls (Orrin 1988, 118). This may be an example of chance survival when more significant items have been lost; it may have been all that the parishioners were able to rescue; or this particular stoup may have had a special importance. The head of the churchyard cross at Llanarth (plate 30) with its carvings of the Virgin and Child and the Crucifixion was thrown into a nearby well (where it was eventually rediscovered by the monks of Belmont and re-erected in the grounds of their preparatory school at Llanarth Court: Felicity Taylor, pers. comm.). This seems most likely to have been an attempt to hide it: it is a common enough folklore motif. On the other hand, it could have been done to dispose of it, though presumably by someone who still had enough residual respect for its imagery to be reluctant to damage or deface it. The church shared by the parish and the Benedictine priory at Abergavenny (Mon) has a remarkable collection of late medieval tombs with alabaster side panels which were once thought to have belonged to an altar reredos (see above, p 12 and plates 1-2). This is now considered unlikely, but it is still possible that the panel depicting the Assumption and Coronation of the Virgin on the tomb of Sir Richard Herbert of Ewias has been relocated. It is stylistically similar to the other panels on the tomb but does not fit its stone supporting plinth. It was certainly in its present location when Richard Symonds visited the church in 1645. It is therefore possible that the panel was removed from its original position - whether as part of a reredos or elsewhere in the church - and affixed to the tomb of a senior member of one of the most powerful local families in order to protect it. The tradition recorded by Fenton in his Tours in Wales (p 352, quoted in Crossley and Ridgway 1945, 189) that the parishioners of Hawarden sold their golden rood for money at the beginning of the reformation is probably just one more legend, though it may have a nub of truth. The cathedral chapters of Llandaff and St David's were both implicated in the sale of jewels and plate from the shrines of their patron saints (Williams 1997, 125, 127-8). Many parishes in better-documented areas of England parted with church treasures for cash, some in the 1530s but far more in the early 1550s when virtually all moveables in churches were under threat. Many of these sales were concealments in all but name and some of the items 'bought' were returned or sold back to the churches at cost during the Marian restoration (Duffy 1992, 482-90). It was not always necessary to conceal iconographically rich material in order to preserve it. I have mentioned the

caution with which it is necessary to treat local traditions that a particularly fine piece of carving came from the nearest monastery at the Dissolution. However, some material was undoubtedly rescued and installed in parish churches as well as private homes. The nave arcade at Llanidloes can be documented as having come from Abbey Cwm-hir. The angel roof with its depictions of the Instruments of the Passion (plate 50b) cannot be proved to have been brought from outside and Charles Kightly has suggested (pers. comm.) that it was constructed for the church. He points to the date 1542 on one of the shields borne by the angels. John Morgan-Guy has however argued (pers. comm.: see the forthcoming volume by Peter Lord and John Morgan-Guy in the Visual Culture of Wales series) that the roof could have been brought from Abbey Cwm-hir with the arcading and that the date records its reinstallation. The angel roof at Cilcain (Flint) is iconographically similar and has similar traditions attached to it - though in this case it is traditionally said to have come from the Cistercian abbey of Basingwerk. Unfortunately for this theory, it does not appear to fit any structure in the ruins at Basingwerk. However, it does not seem to have originated at Cilcain either. The roof is certainly out of proportion in a small parish church. The size and scale of the carvings suggest that they were meant to be seen from further away, in a taller building. The effect in their present position is impressive but almost overwhelming. The installation of the roof has involved cutting into the moulding on the north wall, and the carving on the outside edges of the westernmost timbers also suggest that it was originally made for a larger building. It seems likely, therefore, that it was moved to Cilcain from another site. The most likely period for this seems to be the Dissolution, but its provenance remains for the moment uncertain. Like the Mostyn Christ in Bangor Cathedral, it may have come from Rhuddlan, which is slightly nearer to Cilcain than Basingwerk; there were other religious houses in the area, including a Carmelite friary in Denbigh and another Cistercian abbey at Valle Crucis. Whether they were acquired from elsewhere or constructed for the churches in which they are now found, these roofs both suggest that enthusiasm for traditional church decoration in Wales persisted at least until the 1540s. If either of them came from a religious house, it provides further testimony of the willingness of local communities to preserve and display iconographically rich material whatever its provenance. The Edwardian Reformation After the conservative reaction of the mid- l 540s, the reformers looked to the young Edward VI to complete the good work which his father had initiated, purging the church of idolatry in its visual imagery as well as the central idolatry of the Mass (Macculloch 1999, 62). The initial attack still focussed on images which had been the objects of unsuitable veneration. The third of the royal injunctions of 1547 ordered the parish clergy to 'forthwith

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take down, or cause to be taken down and destroy' all images which had been abused with pilgrimages or offerings. Injunction 27 was however more uncompromising and ordered

greatest treasure, St Teilo's skull, may already have been in the hands of the Crown's commissioner of enquiry, Miles Matthew (Williams 1997, 128). Even when church goods had initially been taken into protective custody, a long time had elapsed since the first wave of confiscation and destruction in the mid 1530s, and the heirs of those who had bought them were not always prepared to see them returned. Furthermore, Mary and her advisers wanted more than restoration. What she had in mind, in theology and liturgy as well as the visual aspects of worship, was not a return to the medieval church but the introduction of post-Tridentine Counter-Reformation Catholicism in all its Renaissance splendour. Just over the border, Bishop Brooks of Gloucester stipulated that each church in his diocese was to have

that they shall take away, utterly extinct and destroy all shrines, covering of shrines, all tables, candlesticks, trindles or rolls of wax, pictures, paintings, and all other monument of feigned miracles, pilgrimage, idolatry and superstition: so that there remain no memory of the same in walls, glasswindows, or elsewhere within their churches or houses. (Aston 1988, 256)

The focus in this later injunction is still on the abuse of images, but the net is drawn much wider and the language of destruction is more extreme. By the end of the year the ambiguity in government thinking had been eliminated, and in February 1548 the Privy Council formally instructed Cranmer (himself a leading councillor and a leader of the iconoclast group) to see to it that all the remaining images in any church or chapel were 'removed and taken away'. The Greyfriars chronicler recorded the diligence with which these instructions were obeyed in London, but in the provinces there was more scope for concealment. The wording of the government's proclamations makes it clear that they expected this to be one of their most contentious decisions:

a decent rood of five foot in length at the least, with Mary and John, and the patron or head saint of the church, proportionate to the same, not painted upon cloth or boards, but cut out of timber or stone (Aston 1988, 287)

This was considerably larger than either of the surviving rood figures from Wales. Orders from other English dioceses insisted that these statues were to be painted and gilded. It was, as Aston says, 'a time when many ageing craftsmen found themselves back in demand, a time for burnishing rusty tools'. In many cases, though, in England as well as in Wales, diocesan authorities had to accept the painting of the crucifix over the rood screen as a temporary measure (Aston 1988, 289). This seems to be what was done at Llaneleu (Bree), and possibly at Llandeilo Talybont (Glam).

in many other places much strife and contention hath risen, and daily riseth, and more and more increaseth, about the execution of the same; men being so superstitious, or rather wilful, as they would by thier good wills retain all images still ... and in some places also the images which by the said injunctions were taken down, be now restored and set up again. (Aston 1988, 262)

The Elizabethan Settlement The Marian restoration Historians are still divided on the question of whether Mary and her advisers could have hoped to succeed in restoring Catholicism to England and Wales given time. Had Mary lived as long as her sister, had she by a miracle borne the child she had prayed for: would England and Wales have returned with a sense of relief to the Catholic fold? There were plenty who welcomed the return of the rich visual imagery and liturgy of the traditional church, and in many parishes considerable financial efforts were made to fund the replacement of what had been destroyed (Hutton 1987, 129-31). Elizabeth's accession was greeted in London by a wave of pre-emptive image-breaking, but the impression from much of the rest of the country is of an obedient but weary dismantling and putting away of furnishings which had only recently been taken out, repaired and reinstalled (Hutton 1987, 133-8). Like Edward, Elizabeth moved gradually to attack images, beginning with those that had been the subjects of 'feigned miracles, pilgrimages, idolatry and superstition'. It took a series of ecclesiastical v1s1tations to enforce the implementation of this and the removal of stone altars, holy water stoups and all the apparatus of the restored liturgy. The sermon by Richard Davies quoted above (p 74) indicates that the process was particularly slow in

Mary's accession meant the reconstruction of the whole visual fabric of worship, altars, roods, images, windows and other furnishings. Contemporary observers reported with approval or despair the enthusiasm with which the people of London brought images and relics out of hiding and placed them in their windows to welcome the new queen (Aston 1988, 278). It was presumably at this time that the figure of Christ from the rood screen at Kemeys Inferior (Mon) was restored and returned to its original position, and the parishioners of Llaneleu (Bree) and Llandeilo Talybont (Glam) painted the cross above their chancel arches to replace carvings which had been lost. For all this initial enthusiasm, the comprehensive restoration of the external apparatus of Catholic worship as the embodiment of the old faith was to prove a more expensive and time-consuming and ultimately a much more challenging process. Not everyone who had acquired church goods in Henry and Edward's reigns was prepared to return them. An enquiry at Llandaff identified the eminent lawyer John Smith, Archdeacon of Llandaff and treasurer of the cathedral, as one of those responsible for the dismantling of St Teilo's shrine and the pre-emptive dispersal of the other cathedral treasurers. However, the

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The Destruction of the Images

Wales and suggests one reason. According to Davies, the gentry were using their powers as justices of the peace not to support the visitors but to hinder them, 'procuring' churchwardens 'to conceal images, roodlofts and altars' during visitations. The 1559 Injunctions actually gave some protection to stained glass by instructing that images in windows need only be broken if the windows were to be reglazed (Duffy 1992, 568). Where other visual images were concerned, however, Elizabeth's policies were in some ways harsher than her brother's. In October 1561, by which time all rood images should have been removed, Elizabeth ordered that the lofts themselves be cut down to the bressumer beam. This proved even more difficult of enforcement, and in a number of Welsh churches the loft survived, either in situ or relocated as western galleries (Hutton 1987, 136; Crossley and Ridgway passim). Elizabeth's injunctions also show an increased awareness of the possibility that images had simply been removed from churches to private houses: in 1559 it was ordered

Patterns of destruction and survival: the stained glass of north Wales Stained glass was particularly vulnerable to damage, deliberate or accidental, and it is remarkable how much has survived, albeit often in a fragmentary state. The distribution of surviving stained glass is however markedly skewed towards the north-east. There are a few fragments in south-west Caernarfonshire, several fine windows in Anglesey and the Conwy valley, and the flamboyant Crucifixion at Llanwrin (Mont). Apart from these, surviving Welsh glass is concentrated in Flintshire and the Vale of Clwyd and in a group of churches in eastern Montgomeryshire. This can probably be explained by the cost of stained glass and the strength of local economies. In general, the best stained glass survives in the most prosperous agricultural areas and in and near the trading centres of the north-east and central borders, where there was money to pay for it. Thus far, we can reasonably assume that the pattern of survival reflects the original distribution. It is surprising, though, that no significant medieval stained glass has survived from the parish churches of south and south-west Wales. Several poets mentioned the stained glass in the abbey churches at Strata Florida, Neath and Margam, but none of it has survived (Thomas 1940, 557, 577, 581). Some stained glass was found in the excavation of the monastic church at Llanthony (Mon), but its fragmented and damaged state makes it virtually impossible to interpret (Evans 1980, 21-7; Evans 1983-4, 23-4). The earlier glass in the north-east derives from York and North Midlands models but by 1500 local workshops can be tentatively identified (Lewis 1970, 3-13). South-east Wales was near to the famous glass workshops of Gloucester and Tewkesbury, so it is remarkable that so little of their work has survived west of the border. The Vale of Glamorgan was at least as prosperous as the Vale of Clwyd, and at least as conservative in its reaction to the Reformation. Part of the problem may be that, paradoxically, it was more difficult to preserve the visual culture of traditional Catholicism in an area in which recusancy had such high visibility. It is also possible that stained glass may have survived in some churches until the nineteenth century, only to be rejected in the Victorian rebuilding, which was more comprehensive in the industrial south than in the north. There is however no evidence from antiquarian and travellers' accounts to support such a suggestion so it must remain as speculation. Most of the evidence we have in fact relates to glass which was once seen in churches in north and west Wales but which has since disappeared. One exception is the glass which Richard Symonds saw at Abergavenny in 1645 (Long 1859, 233-5). In the east window of the Herbert chapel he records two figures (presumably those of Sir William ap Thomas and his wife Gwladus, whose tomb in the chapel we have already discussed) with the inscription ORATE PRO ANIMABUS WILLIELMI THOMAS MILITIS ET ALICIE [recte GLADISSE]

that no person keep in their houses any abused images, tables, pictures, paintings, and other monuments of feigned miracles, pilgrimages,idolatry or superstition (Aston 1988, 301)

The evidence quoted above nevertheless suggests that, in spite of both official and freelance iconoclasm, a surprising amount of visual imagery survived in Welsh churches until the seventeenth century. For all the stringency with which the Edwardian and Elizabethan injunctions were expressed, and for all the diligence of the visitors charged with implementing them, senior Welsh clergy continued to complain of 'papistry, superstition and idolatry'. The lack of response to these complaints is itself instructive and may reflect some degree of deliberate (if covert) policy. Though conservative in their religious practices, the people of Wales were conspicuously loyal to the Tudor dynasty and presented no threat to national order or defence. It seems that the Privy Council was prepared to tolerate some degree of unorthodoxy in religion in order to preserve the loyalty of a vulnerable and strategically important border area. There was certainly little or no enthusiasm in Wales for attacks on images beyond those whose destruction had been ordered by government fiat. The stained glass at Gresford, for example, was apparently still intact in situ in 1574 (Lewis 1970, 5, referring to BL Harleian 473). Richard Symonds saw the great Jesse tree at Abergavenny in 1645, at which time it still had its branches with 'divers statues, but spoyld' (Long 1859, 238). More damage was however done during the Civil War and Commonwealth. Wales was regarded as one of the 'dark corners of the land' by the Westminster Assembly and a special Parliamentary commission was set up, the Commission for the Propagation of the Gospel in Wales, to oversee the Welsh clergy, weed out and replace inadequates, and enforce sound doctrine. While Aston emphasises (1988, 62-3) that we should not assume that the bulk of the destruction took place in this period, a great deal probably did.

UXORIS SUE QUI !STAM CAPELLAM ET FENESTRAM VITRIARI

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Images of Piety

The implication of this may be that William and Gwladus had stained glass installed, of which all that survived in 1645 were the patron figures and their inscription. However, vitriari could equally well refer to plain or non-figurative coloured glass. All our other examples are from the north. In 1528, Edward Johns, rector of Llanynys (Denb) left money for glazing the window over the high altar of the church (Thomas 1878, 156). None of this glass has survived. Lhuyd's Parochialia (1909 i, 150) recorded local traditions of the destruction of stained glass above the high altars at Llanfair Dyffryn Clwyd, Llanrhudd and Llandyrnog (all Denb) as well as Llanynys in 1586. Llanynys has a few quarries of early sixteenth-century glass, and much more in fact survived until later at Llanfair Dyffryn Clwyd as well as at Llandyrnog. Glynne (1884, 173) referred to the great quantity of medieval stained glass in both east windows at Llanfair Dyffryn Clwyd. This included 'large figures of saints under enriched canopies', some of them identified by inscribed scrolls as SS Peter, Catherine and Elizabeth, and the date 1503. Much of this presumably fell victim to the Victorian restoration of the church in 1870-2, when serious damage was also done to the rood screen (Crossley 1946, 29-30). All that is now left is a patchwork of fragments in a window in the south wall (Lewis identifies parts of a Crucifixion and fragments of the Apostles with their creeds) and a few quarries in another window. At Llaneilian-yn-Rhos (Denb ), Lewis ( 1833 vol 2, unpaginated) referred to 'portions of ancient stained glass' in the window; there is now no pre-Victorian glass there. Glynne also visited Llanallgo (Ang), in 1868, and recorded 'portions of good coloured glass' in the east window (Glynne 1900, 90). A report on the church in advance of restoration in 1892 noted 'some choice bits of old glass which, we were informed, would be well taken care of (Davies 1892, 169). None of this glass has survived. The church of St Kentigern and St Asaph, near St Asaph Cathedral, had 'opus vitreum' installed in 1524 (Thomas 1874, 273). This may have been the royal coat of arms which Symonds saw there in 1645 (Long 1859, 261) but there may equally well have been other glass which was concealed during the Civil War. Symonds also saw (p 244) stained glass in the St Hilary chapel in Denbigh Castle with the emblems of the Five Wounds and the Instruments of the Passion There is no later record of this glass and it possibly did not survive the Commonwealth. Glynne also records fragments of stained glass, probably medieval, at Bodfari (Flint: 1884, 84), Rhuddlan (Denb: 1884, 87) and Eglwys Rhos (also Denb: 1884, 251). We are therefore obliged to base our conclusions on the destruction and survival of stained glass on a restricted and possibly unrepresentative area, with all the problems which this entails. However, the wealth of visual imagery which has survived in stained glass is far greater than that in any other medium, which makes it particularly important that we should understand why it has survived. There are several different models which we can use to explain the different patterns of survival, both for visual imagery in different media and for the survival of imagery specifically in stained glass. We can safely assume that it

was those images which were felt to be most powerful and most dangerous by the Protestant authorities - in the 1530s, during the reign of Edward VI and from 1558 - which were most likely to be destroyed. These were the images and pictures to which adoration had been offered, before which candles had been burned, to which pilgrimages had been made. Hence the destruction of the figures on the rood screens, of the statues of the Virgin Mary and the Holy Kindred and of saints like Winifred and Derfel Gadarn. Hence, too, the efforts which were made to hide at least some of these statues, and the stories of their long concealment in the houses of adherents of traditional religion or in the churches where they had once been displayed. Some wall paintings may have been obliterated because they had been venerated. The representation of St Derfel at the Monmouthshire Llandderfel is described in the Ministers' Accounts as a 'picture': this may have been free-standing but is equally likely to have been painted on the wall of the little chapel (SC6 Hen VIII/2501 ). In many cases, though, wall paintings seem to have been whitewashed over rather than systematically obliterated. This may well have helped to preserve them, for a while at least; there are numerous records of wall paintings surviving under whitewash until the Victorians exposed and destroyed them. A coat of whitewash would conceal paintings; this was necessary in order to obey the royal injunctions of 1547. Subsequent injunctions encouraged the decoration of church walls with improving texts such as the Lord's Prayer, the Ten Commandments and (with bizarre frequency) the Table of Prohibited Degrees. The royal coat of arms was also to be painted on church walls as a visual reminder of the Royal Supremacy. It is worth remembering, though, that medieval wall paintings were never meant to be permanent. Churches such as Llangar and Llandeilo Talybont with their multiple layers of medieval paint are not only a challenge to the conservator; they are a reminder of the ephemeral nature of much of what we now struggle to preserve. Stained glass was more difficult to protect. The dismantling and reconstruction virtually intact of the Jesse window at Llanrhaiadr cost the parishioners £60, according to Browne Willis (1721, 326). However, the success of the scheme probably owed as much to the availability of a local craftsman able to cope with the logistics of moving, storing and reassembling about 20 square metres of intricately-patterned glass as it did to the devotion of the local people. Thomas records a tradition that the parishioners of nearby Llanfair Dyffryn Clwyd also tried to save their glass by burying it in a chest. They were not as successful as the people of Llanrhaiadr, though the glass has been further damaged by subsequent rearrangement. What remains is a fragmentary but recognisable Crucifixion and the remains of a set of Apostles with their portions of the Creed. Glynne recorded large figures of saints in the east windows, of which only fragments and inscriptions survive. Archdeacon Thomas recorded the early stained glass in a window in the north aisle in 1874

FECERUNT.

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The Destruction of the Images

(p 118); it has now been moved again to windows in the south wall (Lewis 1970, 60-1 ). It would seem that the parishioners of Llanrhaiadr had to choose what to save and what to leave. The Jesse window was not the only stained glass in the church. When the Royalist officer Richard Symonds visited the church in 1645 he saw some other stained glass but made no mention of the Jesse window (Long 1859, 257). What he described was in the east window of the chancel. It was mainly heraldic glass but with the inscription 'J esu degne on us sinners have mercy. Thomas Salisbery'. There is no reference to anything pictorial which could be identified with the fragments now in the west window of the north aisle, though the inscription is similar to some of the disjointed fragments of text there. Apart from a rather austere Virgin of the Annunciation this window is now a patchwork of largely unidentifiable scraps, though an angel bearing a crown in the southern light may suggest the coronation of the Virgin or of another saint. According to a previous vicar, this glass was found in a farm outhouse in about 1830. The fragments have every appearance of having been salvaged from the wreck of a window which has been deliberately shattered. Apart from the head of the Virgin, they have no obvious iconographic significance. It is possible that they were picked up by a curious or acquisitive parishioner when the central imagery had been dismantled and taken for safe keeping, but more likely (in view of the head of the Virgin) that they were all that could be salvaged from the wreck. The head of the Virgin of the Annunciation also survives at Mold (plate 60a), along with what is almost certainly the Virgin's head from a Crucifixion scene, a bearded male head which may be Christ at some point in the Crucifixion narrative (possibly the Bound Christ, by analogy with Continental examples: see above pp 42-43), some other unidentified figures and several representations of the Stanley emblems of the Eagle and Child and the three joined legs of the Isle of Man. Like the scraps of coloured glass in the west window at Llanrhaiadr, these disjointed fragments have every appearance of having been hastily salvaged after a series of windows had been deliberately damaged. Crucial devotional images have been rescued the heads, possibly some of the figures - and the salvaging of the Stanley emblems may also have been deliberate. However, the absence of complete figures suggests that this was not organised and systematic dismantling but hasty rescue. At Abergele a number of isolated heads are traditionally said to have been rescued from glass which had been thrown out of the church. They include the head of a young woman which has been tentatively identified as the young Virgin Mary (Lewis 1970, 10). According to Lewis the condition of the glass bears out the tradition of its having been exposed to the weather. Other fragmentary images of the Virgin Mary include the Annunciation at Treuddyn, a possible fragment of the Coronation at Dolwyddelan and two fragments at Beaumaris. Elsewhere, the number of surviving depictions of the Crucifixion suggests that these were what parishioners

saved when they could. In the Sacrament Window at Llandyrnog, it is the Crucifixion which has been saved at the expense of the instructional images of the seven sacraments themselves. It may have been easier in this case to recognise and reconstruct the crucifixion than the complicated detail of the scenes depicting the sacraments, though it is apparent from the surrounding panels that some at least of the glass is missing. At Llanllugan the Crucufixion which forms the central panel in the modern arrangement of the east window appears to have been preserved separately from the glass which now surrounds it. Archdeacon Thomas recorded the Crucifixion and the Garter arms in 1874: he did not mention the nun who is now in the lower part of the left-hand light, but this may have been personal reluctance or a failure to recognise that she was in fact a nun. In 1891 the remaining glass was "collected and put together" at the expense of the then lord of the manor, Colonel Herbert of Glanhafren (Thomas 1874, 332; 1908, 486). The Llanllugan Crucifixion may actually be a composite: the feet are awkwardly aligned with the rest of the body but fit perfectly into a rather flat hill of Golgotha (Hughes and Macalister 1932, 460-1 ). The central panel is now surrounded by a patchwork including the lower part of St John the Baptist, a mailed and spurred foot (St Michael, or more probably St George), several sections of the tower of Babel and a jumble of fragments including hands, books, drapery, disjointed inscriptions and bones from Golgotha. It is possible that the Crucifixion was always in the parish church (which is assumed to have been shared by the small community of nuns and the local people) but that some at least of the glass in the surrounding panels was rescued from the conventual buildings and that this might explain its fragmented state (Gray and Morgan-Guy, forthcoming). There are numerous surv1vmg fragments of the Crucifixion. Dolwyddelan (Caerns) has the head of the crucified Christ. At Buttington (Mont), there is enough to reconstruct the original window from the present jumble of fragments including Christ's head, torso, legs and feet, a separate Cross and Crown and fragments of the hill of Golgotha. At Trefdraeth (Ang), Christ's head and shoulders, one hand, and a skull from Golgotha have been assembled with architectural fragments, bits of drapery, parts of angels and other scraps into a small window in the chancel. For all its lateness in date, the Clocaenog crucifixion is particularly badly damaged; all that survives is part of Christ's torso and left foot, with some fragments of the cross. These fragmentary Crucifixions all have the appearance of scraps rescued after the destruction of a window, though it is of course possible that other scraps were rescued at the same time, by the same or different individuals, and that they have not survived. Strangely, though the church at Gresford has virtually everything else in the way of stained glass imagery, it does not have a Crucifixion. This may be because the great east windows were occupied with other iconographical sequences - the lives of St Anne and the Virgin Mary in the lady chapel, the Jesse Tree, the Trinity and the Te Deum in the chancel. There are however some fragments of glass in

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the bottom right hand comer of the east window in the Trevor chapel which look like the flagellation episode in the Passion narrative, and some fragments now associated with the Coronation of the Virgin in the north wall of the Lady Chapel which could come from the Crucifixion itself. What we may have here is the fragments salvaged after the Crucifixion sequence had been deliberately destroyed. However, since so much other glass has survived, it may be that these fragments were left out when the depiction of the Crucifixion was taken for safe keeping, but that ironically the main sequence has been lost and we have been left with the fragments. We know that the surviving glass at Gresford, though it now gives the impression of remarkable completeness, has been rearranged and reassembled more than once. When Archdeacon Thomas came across a reference to the St Anthony panels in the east window of the Trevor chapel, he had to admit that their whereabouts were unknown in 1876 (Thomas 1876, 221). Part of the problem with the windows reassembled by the Victorians is that they resemble nothing so much as a crazy quilt. Little attention seems to have been paid to the original subject matter and schema: the medieval stained glass is treated merely as a curiosity to be rearranged into a superficially attractive pattern. We have therefore no idea what, if anything was discarded because it would not fit. The Victorian and later restorers have also moved stained glass around with scant regard for its original arrangement. At Caerwys, Thomas recorded a fragment of stained glass in the east window depicting St Michael (1874, 284). ). On a visit to the church in 1891 the Cambrian Archaeological Association noted 'some nice fragments of old stained glass' in the east windows of chancel and nave as well as in the window at the east end of the south wall (Arch. Camb. 1891, 69). By 1970 the only early stained glass was in the south window of the chancel. There was (and is) nothing remotely like a St Michael, though Lewis suggests that the head of a grey beast in the east light may be a dragon ( 1970, 31 ). What is apparent from some of these patchworks is the way in which the most fragmentary scraps of glass, unidentifiable to us now, could be valued, rescued and preserved. Fragments of drapery from the vestments of a favourite saint, even patterned quarries from the background diapering, seem to have had a devotional significance because of their former context.

Llandudno and the garrison chapel in Caemarfon were sold for firewood (Crossley 1944, 88, 102). At Tremeirchion (Flint), the head of the churchyard cross was sold in 1862 for £5 to pay for repairs to the church. The purchaser promptly gave it to the nearby Catholic college of St Beuno, where it remains (Arch. Camb. 1947, 338-9). The removal of the rood loft at Welshpool (Mont) had more to do with social than religious prejudice, though it also had a liturgical dimension. A petition to the bishop in the 1730s alleged that 'a great number of the very common sorte of people' sat there ('under pretence of psalm singing), who run up and down there; some of them spitting upon people's heads below'. It was also complained that 'the psalm-singers ingross the psalm singing wholly to themselves, depriving thereby all the rest of the congregation of the great benefit of psalm singing and praising God. This is a new practice, very lately sprung up amongst us, which in many places in England hath been supprest and punished as a nuisance' (Thomas 1874, 791-2). The rood loft at Wrexham was taken down by order of an earlier bishop in 1662, for reasons unknown (Thomas 1903 (iii), 298). At Llanferres, the rood beam was removed 'for the necessary conveniency and ornament of the church' in 1728 and 'a certain block or piece of stonework, supposed to be the basis or pedestal of some popish image, lying near the rails of the south side of the altar' was 'taken down as useless ... and taken in as an addition to a settle belonging to Edward Jones of Colomendy' in 1730 (Thomas 1874, 619). The same reasons may have led to the removal of the rood screen at Llanrhaeadr-ym-Mochnant on the orders of the rural dean in 1791, though part of it was kept and subsequently made into bench-ends for the chancel (Thomas 1874, 521). A 'curious image' was discovered built into the tower at Mold in 1768 and 'ordered by the then vicar to be forthwith demolished as a popish relic' (Thomas 1874, 600). This may have been the Delw Fyw, the 'living image' which the poets described at Mold, presumably an animated statue like the Rood of Boxley but possibly a statue of the Virgin Mary rather than Christ. A wall painting of the Virgin Mary was discovered at Llancarfan (Glam) in 1877/8 but even at this late date it was felt to be dangerously popish and was whitewashed over again. This may in fact have preserved it; it has recently been rediscovered and is now being conserved. Some visual imagery was destroyed not by Protestant reformers but by believers. Colin Gresham (1968, 159-61) describes the strange case of the effigy of a mid-13th century priest in the parish church of St James, Holywell. Originally placed over the priest's grave, the effigy depicts a slender figure holding a chalice. It lost its head, possibly during the Reformation, and was subsequently interpreted as a statue of Winifred herself, in spite of its priestly vestments. By the time it was reported in Archaeologia Cambrensis for 1892 (228-30), it had been badly damaged by relic-hunters who had chipped fragments of stone from it to make potions. A similar fate befell the wooden reliquary which Lhuyd saw and sketched at Winifred's second shrine of Gwytherin. By the mid-nineteenth century it had been virtually dismembered by pilgrims, who paid

The decline of a tradition So far, we have been assuming that the visual imagery in medieval Welsh churches was destroyed in reponse to changes in belief or government policy, during the religious trauma of the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries. Much of the destruction, however, took place after the Restoration and for reasons which were not always ideological. In some cases it was crude financial necessity. At Beddgelert (Caems), stained glass was sold to pay for repairs to the church in 1830, and the woodwork from the rood screen was sold for conversion into furniture (Crossley 1944, 88). The rood screens at the old church in

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the shrine's custodians for fragments of the wood. One of the gable ends was taken by a Jesuit priest to Holywell, where it was rediscovered in the early 1990s (Edwards and Hulse 1994, 91-101 ). It is possible that much of the damage to the panel depicting the Bound Christ at Betws Gwerful Goch has been caused by the reverent hands of devout pilgrims anxious to touch it. The figure of Christ is much more badly worn than those of either the Virgin Mary or St John. The present incumbent has observed that visitors to the church still seem drawn to touch the carving. Other instances of damage and destruction have more to do with the period of decay in Welsh churches in the eighteenth century and the subsequent ruthless rebuilding, usually credited to the Victorians but actually beginning in the late eighteenth century. In some cases, we can give only an approximate date for the loss or destruction of visual imagery. Edward Lhuyd, writing in about 1700, recorded and drew a stained glass window in the north wall of Llandderfel (Meir) depicting St Trillo. This had vanished by the time Archdeacon Thomas visited the church (1874, 698). Other instances of what contemporaries regarded as necessary repair and modernisation but we would now call vandalism can be more precisely dated. Between 1798 and 1802 the parishioners of Llandysul (Mont) 'removed the old rood loft, took out the mullions of the windows and disposed of the old font and its cover'. According to Archdeacon Thomas, the font (or possibly the cover) was subsequently rediscovered in use as a tea-table (Thomas 1874, 325). Thomas suggests (but with less certainty) that it was in the 1777 rebuilding that Llansannan (Denb) lost its rood screen; it was certainly still there in 1682 when it was mentioned in a petition about seating in the church (Thomas 1874, 395). As late as the 1860s, a 'common carpenter' was allowed to remove the rood screen at Llanfwrog (Denb) during repairs. Fragments were preserved in some of the pews and under the desk and pulpit, and based on these a new screen was constructed in the restoration of 1870 (Thomas 1874, 422).

Elsewhere, many rood screens had been recycled into western galleries, which preserved much carved woodwork which would otherwise have been lost. In the nineteenth century, however, all over Wales, decaying galleries and surviving rood screens were chopped up and incorporated into other forms of church furniture or thrown out. The Victorian ecclesiologists had clear, not to say doctrinaire ideas on what was desirable in a church; and they do not seem to have included the careful restoration of existing furnishings. Carved timber was valued not for its liturgical or iconographic significance but as a quaint relic of the past which could be rearranged to suit more modern tastes. This attitude has been the subject of virtually universal criticism by more recent observers. To quote Crossley again (1946, 3), If one judges their character by their work they were an unpleasant lot: smug and self-opinionated and vastly unintelligent

For all his enthusiasm for recording carved woodwork on others' churches, the Rev. John Parker was as cavalier as the next man when it came to his own church at Llanmerewig (Mont). Here rood screen, loft and other carved woodwork were incorporated into a towering Gothic fantasy of a pulpit - from which, however, he rarely preached, as he was so often away on his researches. It has since been destroyed, but his sketch of it survives (Haslam 1979, 148; Parry 1998, 82). At Cyffylliog (Denb ), part of the rood screen survived in situ until the nineteenth century, and more was incorporated into the western gallery. Baker's 1876 rebuilding dismantled it but incorporated fragments into the stalls, altar rails, the pulpit and the adjoining screen. (Hubbard 1994, 142). It was presumably in the course of this restoration that the wall painting of the Coronation of the Virgin was lost. The glorious screen from the old church of St Mary in Newtown (Mont) was carefully transferred in 1856 to the new church. Thomas saw it there before 1874, apparently complete but functioning as as 'a kind of reredos' lining the sanctuary within the altar rails, 'the lower or arcaded portion having been cut down so as to fit under the east window and the central space divided to receive the Communion-table' (Thomas 1874, 341-2; illustration of the screen in its original condition facing page 341 ). In 1909, the sections lining the sanctuary were rearranged, and the rest was re-erected in 1938 as a parclose screen in the north aisle (Haslam 1979, 173). For all his eminence as a church historian, Archdeacon Thomas fully approved of the rearrangement of the 1870s. It is only our own tastes which have made such restructuring unacceptable. Thomas also reports with apparent approval the proposal to rebuild the little fifteenth-century church at Cyffylliog (Denb ): 'the beautiful carved tracery of the old rood-screen will be worked into the new chancel seats, which are designed after some ancient ones in the mother church' (Thomas 1874, 438-9). The wainscotting of the screen at Llysfaen (Denb) now stands behind the north stalls and on the north of the sanctuary (Hubbard 1994, 249-50), and at Nerquis (Flint),

The Victorian 'restorers'

Wales suffered particularly badly at the hands of the nineteenth-century restorers, for reasons which have as much to do with contemporary social structures and ecclesiastical politics as they do with the aesthetics of belief. The demographic crisis which the Welsh gentry had experienced in the eighteenth century left many landed estates in the hands of outsiders unsympathetic to local culture and traditions. The rise of Nonconformity and the magnificent chapels which many Nonconformist congregations were able to construct placed the Anglican hierarchy on the defensive, and encouraged the wholesale rebuilding of churches as a reassertion of status and authority. Crossley and Ridgway (1957, 12) noted the exceptionally thorough destruction of medieval woodwork in Pembrokeshire: 'Few counties hint more at what they once possessed, and few have suffered as much.'

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sections of the screen have been made into a chair (Crossley and Ridgway 1945, 190-2). At Cemaes (Mont), all that survives is a fragment of enrichment from one of the beams, with an angel holding on to the vine trails (Crossley and Ridgway 1947, 184). These rearrangements can make it difficult to distinguish early from Victorian work, especially when new and old work are mixed. At Llansanffraid (Mon), panels from the rood screen were made into a chest; then in about 1931 they were reconstructed into a new screen (Crossley and Ridgway 1959, 54). A vine trail from one of the beams of the loft at Llanfarchell (Denb) had been made into an altar rail as early as the seventeenth century (Thomas 1874, 361), and the upper part of the screen at Llangynhafal (Denb) was 'removed and put around the Communion Table' in 1726 (Thomas 1874, 426). Part of the parapet of the loft at Clocaenog (Denb) may have been incorporated into the Victorian altar rails (Hubbard 1994, 132); at New Radnor, too, the remains of the rood loft became part of an altar rail (Haslam 1979, 260-1). This pattern might conceivably reflect a concern to retain the eucharistic significance of the screen, but is more likely to derive from the blithe disregard of Victorian and earlier restorers for the ecclesiological significance of church furnishings. It is however interesting that they felt the need to incorporate these fragments, however inappropriate their use of them may seem to our eyes. Other church woodwork was not immune from the attentions of the Victorians. At Gwernesney (Mon), the rood screen is still in position but the parclose screens from the chantry chapel were repositioned around the font (Crossley and Ridgway 1959, 35-8 and plate V). The intricate canopy of honour over the east end of the south nave at Caerwys (Flint) has been reorganised into reredos, screens and a pulpit. We may in fact be able to date this to a post-Victorian restoration of the church, since the Cambrian Archaeological Association saw the canopy of honour in place on their visit to the church in 1891 (Arch. Camb. 1891, 69). The reorganisation has the fortuitous advantage that the iconographically interesting carvings on one of the wall plates, with their dragons and vine trails, are now at shoulder height on the east wall of the north nave and can be clearly seen (plate 5a); but this does not necessarily compensate for the loss of the original arrangements. The altar rails at Corwen were 'faced with a band of quatrefoils from the ancient ceiling of the sacrarium' in the rebuilding of 1871-2 (Thomas 1874, 687). These screens were the fortunate ones; many more were completely destroyed. Even the cathedral of St Asaph lost its stone pulpitum screen in George Gilbert Scott's renovations of 1868 (Thomas 1874, 211-12). Worse, some of the lost screens were painted: and as we have so few surviving examples of painted screens in Wales, it is now virtually impossible to establish how widespread they once were. Writing in the early nineteenth century, John Parker recorded extensive painting on the screen at Newtown (Mont), as well as painted panels including a bishop and (possibly) St George and the Dragon. All have now gone (Crossley and Ridgway 1947, 213). The brightly-painted

rood screen decorated with shields which Meyrick saw at Llanbadarn Fawr (Cards) was probably destroyed in the rebuilding of 1869. Even where screens have survived, they have in some cases lost crucial paintings. At Old Radnor, paintings of 'saints' (unspecified) were removed in the nineteenth century (Haslam 1979). According to Lewis's Topographical Dictionary ( 1833 vol 2, unpaginated), the oak screen at Llaneilian (Ang) was 'ornamented with a portrait of St Eilian but much defaced with paint' (Crossley 1944, 70). All that survives now is an almost certainly post-Reformation figure of Death under the western coving of the rood loft and faint traces of saltire crosses on the east-facing wainscot of the loft. Not only woodwork was lost to the nineteenth-century restorers. A little early painted glass survives at Tremeirchion, but more was removed to make way for the Hicks Owen memorial window (Arch. Camb. 1947, 337). The fragmentary medieval glass which Archdeacon Thomas recorded (1874, 426) at Llangynhafal (Denb) depicting the Instruments of the Passion and with the legend 'S'te Dyrnoke ... [Ora]te pro animabus Gruffydd ap Ieun ap Eynon et Katerina' has since vanished. So have the fragments of ancient glass diapering similar in pattern to those at Bettws and Gwyddelwern, which Thomas saw at Cerrigydrudion and Llangwm (1874, 534, 555). Wall paintings were particularly vulnerable to the Victorians' enthusiasm for exposing the stonework of interior walls. Lacking our respect for even the most faded and indecipherable remains of medieval painting, they happily stripped walls of their plaster and the traces of paint with it. At Clocaenog and Cyffylliog (Denb ), as well as the recycling of the rood screen, wall paintings were uncovered and lost or destroyed during restoration (Hubbard 1994, 132, 142; Arch. Camb. 1876, 75 and 1882, 237-8). The painting of the Sunday Christ at Llanblethian (Glam) was destroyed by the removal of plaster during the 1896-7 restoration (Orrin 1988, 179-80). 'Extensive' wall paintings at nearby Cadoxton-juxta-Barry had been uncovered in 1885 but vanished unrecorded when the wall collapsed (Orrin 1988, 118-9). At Llangybi (Caerns), as recently as 1960, it was recorded that, during 'recent' preparations for replastering, fragmentary traces of wall paintings were revealed on all three walls of the chancel. All that could be seen was that they were in panels in a foliated border. No more detailed record was made, and there appears to have been no attempt at conservation (RCAHM 1960 [Caerns], 202). George Eyre Evans (1903, 88) recorded a local description of the destruction of rather more fragmentary wall paintings at Llanbadarn Fawr (Cards). When the church was restored in 1869 the men chipped off all the plaster on the walls, on which were old 'painted pictures' ... one picture was 'like an eagle', this was on the left hand wall as you looked You could pick up any amount of picture bits from the floor! I am sure they could have taken the pictures off whole, there was no need to touch them, but there, the good vicar cared nothing for such like.

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Caution is needed in dealing with descriptions like this. The paintings are merely described as 'old'; the 'readings over them in "black funny letters" ' may in fact suggest a post-Reformation date, though paintings with text under or over them were also known in pre-Reformation contexts. Restoration could of course reveal as well as destroying paintings. The sequence of the Seven Corporal Works of Mercy at Rhiwabon was found when the benefaction boards were taken off the south wall in preparation for building work (Ferrey 1870). A section of plaster fell off with them, revealing the paintings, which were then proeserved (at the cost of some overpainting and reworking). However, the other painting revealed at the same time, identified by Ferrey as the Virgin Mary but by Miriam Gill as the Seven Deadly Sins, was apparently lost during the rebuilding. More was of course lost when churches were completely rebuilt. This my have been the only practicable way of dealing with the extremes of structural decay in some churches. Like restoration, the comprehensve rebuilding of parish churches began in the later eighteenth century but gathered momentum under the Victorians: and like restoration it resulted in losses which are now regarded as deplorable. References to Llangwm Isaf (Mon), for example, suggest it had a rood screen similar to the spectacularly beautiful one which survives at its sister church of Llangwm Uchaf; the screen at Llangwm Isaf seems to have had north and south altars against its west face. Some of this screen may even have been incorporated into the one at Llangwm Uchaf (Crossley and Ridgway 1959, 49-54).

The exuberant eclecticism of the Victorians is as much a part of the visual tradition of Wales as the history of destruction and preservation after the Reformation: and like that history it needs to be seen in its own terms. However, as Victorian rebuilding and redecoration add layers of complexity to iconographic history, so they add layers of difficulty to any attempt to identify a distinctive Welsh tradition. They may even suggest a need for caution about other undocumented visual features: it is all too often impossible to prove that scraps of stained glass and small carvings belong to any recognisable regional tradition, still less that they are demonstrably in their church of origin. Destruction, survival and the heritage industry

The extent of the destruction of medieval visual imagery in Wales, and the arbitrary processes by which some of it has survived, have created a new iconodolatry. The assumption of the modem heritage industry is that everything which has survived from the medieval period must be preserved. Shattered fragments of stained glass, scraps of worm-eaten timber and faded traces of painted plaster can be offered a respect little short of veneration. Our attitude is one of closure: in declaring a responsibility to the past we imply that it is no longer part of us, that we have separated ourselves from it. In this separation of ourselves from the past, we have also separated ourselves from the beliefs which underpinned the creation and destruction of the imagery we have been discussing. We no longer see these paintings and carvings as making explicit theological and devotional statements with which we may agree or disagree. We are therefore in danger of losing all sense of the power of the visual image and of failing to comprehend the violence with which the reformers of the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries were prepared to attack them, precisely because they were beautiful, powerful and influential. There is also a tendency in the heritage industry to see 'the past' as an undifferentiated whole, all of which must be preserved simultaneously, in spite of the contradictions that entails. Thus, for example, all the painted plaster at Llangar (Meir) is displayed as if it was one sequence, from the earliest saints' figures to the eighteenth-century Death with his hourglass. The Museum of Welsh Life at St Fagan's is making a commendable attempt to present the church from Llandeilo Talybont at one moment in time, but this produces interpretative problems of its own: they will for example have to consider whether to construct a replacement rood screen and how far to restore the copies of the wall paintings which will be displayed in the church. This feeling of non-continuity, of alienation from the traditions of the past, is a recent development. Parishioners and ecclesiastical authorities have until recently felt confident in remodelling their churches to suit changes in belief and liturgical practice. The howls of indignation which have greeted (for example) the recent proposal to move the parclose screen at Gresford by one bay in order to create a chapel for weekday services would be incomprehensible to an eighteenth or nineteenth-century

Acquisitions from elsewhere

Restoration and rebuilding sometimes resulted in the installation of iconographically rich material from elsewhere. The alabaster panels depicting the Entombment and Resurrection at Llansanffraid (Mon) and the screen at Llangiwa (also Mon) are both said to have come from 'a church in Devon' (John Morgan-Guy, pers. comm.). Crossley and Ridgway (1959, 41) suggested that the screen at nearby Llanfair Cilgedin was salvaged from elsewhere at the rebuilding of the church in 1886. St Stephen's, Bodfari has a set of altar chairs with inserted panels, apparently medieval, representing the Crucifixion. However, the chairs themselves date from the 1865 rebuilding of the church and could come from anywhere (Thomas 1874, 282).The nineteenth-century pulpit at St Twrog's, Llandwrog (Caems) incorporates two sixteenthcentury Flemish panels of the Crucifixion and Deposition (RCAHM 1960 [Caerns] 182). The little church of Llanwenllwyfo (Ang) has a remarkable collection of sixteenth-century Flemish and North European glass, given by Sir Arundel Neave in 1877. Perhaps the most spectacular example of all, the fragments of the magnificent Jesse window at Worthenbury (Flint) were rescued from Winchester College by the firm of Betton and Evans of Shrewsbury when they installed a copy of the original at Winchester.

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congregation. At Llangedwyn (Denb) we now deplore the loss of the rood screen, converted into a gallery for the family of Sir Watkin Williams by 1739 and presumably finally discarded at the rebuilding of the church in 1869. However, an inscription on the wall-plate of the chancel records an earlier rebuilding, in 1527, at which an earlier rood screen may well have been lost (Thomas 1874, 5267). The Victorians destroyed much visual art and damaged far more in their ecclesiastical expansionism. In an age of dwindling congregations and differing priorities, many parishes have to make decisions on conservation based on financial realities. In most cases, the decision is still for conservation if at all possible. The parish of Llancarfan in the Vale of Glamorgan, having raised funds to keep the building open, repair the roof and tower and recast the bells,is now trying to find the resources to study and conserve the medieval wall painting which has recently been rediscovered there. In some communities, however, a positive decision has been reached not to conserve. At the time of writing (2000), the feeling among the congregation of Gumfreston (Pemb) is that the Sunday Christ there should not be actively conserved or restored. The painting is very vestigial, incomplete and badly damaged by damp and mould. Conservation would effectively destroy what is

arguably the most important thing about this particular painting, its relationship with the church and the community. It would have to be detached from the wall, taken for expert treatment, then returned and re-affixed in a 'safe' position. This would all be expensive. Furthermore and this seems to be the conclusive argument at the moment - if they received any help with expenses, the painting would then have to be kept in secure conditions. The church would have to be locked: the conservation of a rather poor painting would take place at the expense of the role of the church as a pilgrimage church and the spiritual heart of the community. The parishioners of Gumfreston have been encouraged in their decision by their awareness of the deliberately ephemeral nature of so much medieval art. Medieval wallpaintings were regularly plastered over and repainted, with sequences more in line with changing devotional practices or merely different. The modem judgement is generally that the destruction of so much visual imagery is an irreparable loss. However, this must not be allowed to stand in the way of our awareness of the very real concerns and pnontles of medieval redecorators, Protestant iconoclasts and Victorian ecclesiologists. Our obsession with conservation is in danger of becoming an obstacle to our understanding of the essentials of medieval and postmedieval belief.

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Conclusion: the image of a nation? Any account of the history of late medieval religious art in Wales is bound to leave us with a great unanswered question. The evidence suggests that many parishes and individuals invested a great deal of money, effort and emotional capital in the installation of visual imagery in their churches. The evidence also suggests that in many parishes efforts were made to protect and preserve this visual imagery in opposition to government policies. The people of Wales in the sixteenth and early seventeenth centuries were notorious for their adherence to traditional religious practices - pilgrimages, the veneration of shrines, images and relics - even when these had technically been outlawed. Why, then, did the Welsh accept what was done to their churches without protest? Some attempts to answer this question have focussed on the practical realities of the situation in Wales - the trauma of the fifteenth century, the hope ofrecovery offered by the Acts of Union, the power and specifically Welsh prestige of the Tudor monarchs. Others have pointed to the weaknesses of late medieval Welsh spirituality as exemplified by the writings of the traditional poets, with their credulity, their dependence on externals, their overemphasis on the crudely physical and the mechanical performance of rituals. David Williams's judgement that 'men will abandon so lightly only what they lightly hold' (Williams 1950, 46) has been echoed by many others smce. A consideration of the visual evidence helps to correct this picture to some extent. The devastatingly graphic depictions of the Crucifixion, for example, with their emphasis on the salvific power of tortured flesh and the hope offered by Christ's wounds, remind us that the embodied nature of late medieval spirituality was at least deeply felt: and it had positive as well as negative aspects. Nevertheless, there is no denying the profound difference of emphasis between the literary tradition, with its emphasis on the lives, legends and miracles of the saints, and the visual culture with its a limited range of Biblical and ascetic saints and its close focus on Christ's redemptive sacrifice as the gate to salvation. It is tempting to see this as the difference between 'orthodox' imagery and 'popular' belief and to suggest that what the poets may be telling us is how people responded to the impeccably orthodox images which were provided (by the church or by other lay people) for their instruction and contemplation. We are back with the debate over the extent to which we should rely on the poets to articulate the experience of a whole community. Do the poems communicate a general lay response to religious stimuli, or do they just tell us how the poets responded? Members of the clergy can be identified as responsible for some of the visual images we have been discussing. The St Anthony panels at Gresford were given by the rector, William Roden, in 1510. The will of Edward Johns, rector of Llanynys (Denb) in 1528, left money for the window over the high altar to be glazed at his expense. We

have suggested that St Frideswide appears in the sequence of saints at Llandyrnog (Denb) because the rector had been to Oxford. In many cases we may suspect (even if we cannot prove) that the glazing of a window or the painting of a wall was a jointly-funded project. We know, for example, that Archdeacon Peter Conway left money towards the Jesse window at Diserth (above, p 60). We cannot identify or prove responsibility for the choice or arrangement of visual imagery in the majority of these schemes. We may nevertheless be able to assume that it was a matter for negotiation between the clergy and leading parishioners, drawing on a common stock of ideas about what was appropriate. However, we have evidence for the involvement of a number of lay patrons in what were presumably controlling roles in the design and installation of visual material in churches. The east window in the Lady Chapel at Gresford was given by a family whose names are now missing from the inscription but who are depicted kneeling in the lowest panels. Modern inscriptions at Gresford record the gift of window panels by Ralph Davenport, former mayor of Chester, and his wife Christiana and by Hywel ap David and his wife Margaret, both in the early sixteenth century. The great east window at Gresford with its association of the Virgin Mary and the Trinity was given by Margaret Beaufort's husband Thomas Stanley (Lewis 1970, 7). The fragments of medieval glass now in the west window of the north aisle at Llanrhaiadr-yng-Nghinmeirch (Denb) once included part of the arms of the Salusbury family (Thomas 1874, 429) and still have an inscription which includes the word SALISBER ... and could record a gift by the family. Lay patrons could employ a range of poses and compositional strategies to convey messages about their beliefs and priorities (Schleif 1993). The choice and arrangement of saints and other figures is obviously theirs: but so are the attitudes of the figures in the composition, the frozen communication embodied in the gestures of the patrons and the holy figures. We have suggested that Richard, Duke of York and a leading Garter knight, was responsible for the presence of St George, patron saint of the Garter, in one of the windows at Llanllugan. In the east window at Llangadwaladr (Ang), Meurig ap Llywelyn, Margaret and their son and daughter-in-law flank the image of their royal and holy ancestor Cadwaladr (plate 42). The blood from the wounds of the crucified Christ flows visually into the chalices held by the attendant angels and metaphorically down to the saint and his descendants. The grief of the Virgin Mary and St John reflects their grief. This two-way transaction in which the patrons offer public veneration and the saints respond with approbation and blessing is presented with spurious impartiality. The donors have chosen the mode of presentation but are then written into it in the third person as actors. The text under the visual representation can also be read as part of this process, as the frozen utterance of the patrons, as the

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liturgical texts incorporated in (for example) depictions of the Annunciation represent the words of the holy actors. But whatever the motivations and strategies demonstrated in this imagery, there is no perceptible difference between the windows funded by lay and clerical patrons. It is possible that the difference between literary and visual sources is more apparent than real, based on the differential survival rates of religious art in different media. Much of what has survived is in stained glass, which for all its fragility and vulnerability to deliberate or accidental damage seems to have been easier to rescue and preserve than carvings or freestanding paintings. Wall paintings should have been safe under their coats of whitewash, but most have been destroyed since the eighteenth century, either by building work or by inadequate conservation. It is possible that imagery in churches was to some extent media-specific, that stained glass and carving were more likely to provide material for contemplation and that wall paintings were more likely to provide narrative and instruction. If true, this would suggest that material such as the lives and miracles of the saints could have been lost as wall paintings decayed or were stripped in the course of church restoration and rebuilding. On the other hand, the extended meditation on the Crucifixion at Llandeilo Talybont and at Llangybi (Mon) suggests that any distinction between wall paintings and other media was not an invariable rule. We have however lost so much of the wall paintings that we cannot with confidence draw any firm conclusions from what survives. There are nevertheless ways in which the media chosen for depictions do communicate part of the message. The medieval image of the Virgin as the glass through which the sunbeam was particularly important in the context of the doctrine of her triple virginity, and gave added resonance to depictions of the Annunciation in stained glass. This resonance extended to other depictions of the Virgin in glass, and prompted recollection of the Lauds hymn Gloriosa Domina which describes her as 'the window of heaven'. By extension, the image of the Holy Spirit as a sunbeam shining through glass could suggest the light of the Spirit shining through all depictions in stained glass. Spatial analysis of the location of visual imagery in churches has suggested ways in which liturgical space could be articulated. We could develop this to suggest that imagery for instruction was more likely to be found in the nave or aisles of a church, to which the laity had most frequent access, while material for devout and sometimes distant contemplation was located in the chancel. This was the space of the priesthood and the most sacred object of devout contemplation, the consecrated host. This might also explain some of the deficiencies in the visual record, since wall painting tended to be concentrated in the nave and stained glass in the chancel. Again, though, the paintings at Llandeilo Talybont stand as a reminder that these distinctions are not an invariable rule. The visual representation of belief was not necessarily simple. Visual imagery can give concise and at the same time subtle and nuanced expression to ideas of

considerable theological complexity. Single images like the Lily Crucifix and compound representations like the great east window at Gresford and the Seven Sacraments window at Llandyrnog were like Buddhist devotional paintings, images for detailed and lengthy study. To some extent the traditional poetry of medieval Wales, with its allusive style and complex web of images and the wide resonances of its vocabulary offers a verbal parallel to the visual representation of ideas. There are however essential differences between word and image as communication. Written communication tends to produce linear sequences of ideas, whether narrative or argument. Visual communication may present equally complex concepts and theories but presents them in a form which suggests contemplative acceptance rather than discussion. There is no scope - indeed, there is no need - for logical, linear argument. This hermeneutic of contemplation rather than discussion is reflected in the pastoral writing of the period, in which the mysteries of scholastic theology are simply asserted rather than being discussed or explained. We are still in a period of pre-literate communication as defined by Goody (Goody and Watt 1963, 304-45; Goody 1977, 11-12, 43-4; Goody 1987, 219-21). Goody suggests the difference between verbal and written communication is that verbal communication hampers logical analysis: it is difficult to refer back and pick up on weak points in an earlier stage of the argument. While this is not entirely true of the structured syllogisms of verbal scholastic debate, it may offer some pointers to the weaknesses in visual communication. The complex content of the Seven Sacraments window, for example, rests on the assertion and acceptance of its basic sacramental theology and the meditative exploration of its implications. There is no attempt to use visual imagery to construct an argument about the nature and validity of the sacraments presented. Parishioners instructed on such a system were ill-equipped to deal with the attacks of the reformers on the origins and nature of the sacraments, attacks which were based on the logical analysis of Scripture. The problem with traditional belief was thus not that it was held lightly or in ignorance, but that it was held in a form which was not susceptible to verbal argument and defence. Our uncertainty about the responsibility - financial and artistic - for much of this imagery makes it difficult to say whether it represents a specifically Welsh approach. Too much of our material comes from churches in anglicised areas near the border; too much was constructed under the influence of English craftsmen. The idea of an identifiable Welsh - still less a 'Celtic' - spirituality is in any case problematic. Oliver Davies still finds evidence in Welsh literary sources for the traditional view of a diffuse, almost pantheistic spirituality, aware of the divine in the natural world and rejoicing in its beauty (Davies 1996 passim, esp 5-6). However, while the literary culture is broad-based in its approach to sanctity, reflecting the extensive traditions of veneration of local saints, the visual culture is much more closely geared to the broader European tradition with its emphasis on the saints of the international calendar and the depiction of the Crucifixion.

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Conclusion: the image of a nation?

The nearest parallel to the literary tradition in the visual record is probably the decorative tradition of the Welsh rood screens, their panels and cross-beams intricately carved with acorns and ivy berries, vine-trails and sheaves of corn. The rood screens are also of all the visual material the most obviously local in inspiration and manufacture, and the one element of church decoration in which there is an identifiable Welsh style (Crossley and Ridgway 194459). On the other hand, the eucharistic resonances of this decorative imagery link it closely to the more figurative elements in the Welsh iconographic tradition, with its limited range of Biblical and ascetic saints and its spirituality closely focussed on Christ's redemptive sacrifice as the gate to salvation. It was this emphasis

which was restored to Welsh piety by the Methodist Revival of the eighteenth century. The hymns of the Methodist tradition are full of images drawn from this iconographic vocabulary but now expressed verbally rather than visually. The same translation from visual to verbal imagery can be found in Welsh poetry of the period of the Reformation. Gruffudd ab Ieuan ap Llywelyn Fychan of Llannerch's poem Yn Erbyn Braint Delwau (Morrice 1910, 31-4) may breathe the spirit of true Protestantism in its criticism of the adoration of saints and images. But in its insistence on the importance of Christ's sacrifice and its loving retelling of his wounds it conveyed exactly the same message which had been communicated to the people of Wales in the imagery he rejected, in stained glass, in wall paintings and in carved wood and stone.

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Evans, D.H., 1983-4. 'Further Excavation and Fieldwork at Llanthony Priory, Gwent'. Monmouthshire Antiquary 5, 1-61 Evans, J. Gwenogfryn, 1911. The Poetry in the Red Book of Hergest. Llanbedrog: privately printed. Evans, M., 1982. 'An illustrated fragment of Peraldus 's Summa of Vice: Harleian MS 3244'. Journal of the Warburg and Courtauld Institute 45. Ferrey, B., 1870. Report on the Rhiwabon wall paintings in Proceedings of the Society of Antiquaries 2nd ser. 4, 1867-70, 517-9. Foss, David B., 1989. 'John Mirk's Instructions for Parish Priests' in W.J. Sheils and Diana Wood, eds., The Ministry: Clerical and Lay. Studies in Church History 26, Ecclesiastical History Society. Foster, I., 1950. 'The Book of the Anchorite'. Proceedings of the British Academy 36, 197-226 Gerald of Wales. 1978. The Journey through Wales and The Description of Wales. Translated with introduction by Lewis Thorpe. Harmondsworth: Penguin Books. Gilchrist R., 1994. Gender and Material Culture. London: Routledge. Gilchrist R., 1995. Contemplation and Action: the other religious life. London and New York: Leicester University Press. Gilchrist R. and Oliva M., 1993. Religious Women in Medieval East Anglia: History and Archaeology c 1100-1540, Studies in East Anglian History I, Norwich: Centre of East Anglian Studies. Gill, M. forthcoming.' Late Medieval Wall Painting in England: Content and Context (c.1330-1530)'. Courtauld Institute of Art thesis. Glass, Dorothy, 1982. 'In Principia: the Creation in the Middle Ages' in Roberts, L.D., ed., 67-104 Glynne, S., 1884. 'Notes on the older churches in the four Welsh dioceses'. Archaeologia Cambrensis 5th series 1, 81-104. Glynne, S., 1900. 'Notes on the older churches in the four Welsh dioceses'. Archaeologia Cambrensis 5th series 17, 85109. Gold, Penny Schine. 1985. The lady and the Virgin : image, attitude, and experience in twelfth-century France. Chicago : University of Chicago Press. Gombrich, E.H., 1972. Symbolic Images: studies in the art of the Renaissance. London: Phaidon. Gombrich, E.H., 1982. The Image and the Eye. Further studies in the psychology of pictorial representation. Oxford and London: Phaidon. Goody, Jack, 1968. Literacy in Traditional Societies. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Goody, Jack, 1977. The Domestication of the Savage Mind. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Goody, Jack, 1987. The Interface between the Written and the Oral. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Goody, Jack, and Ian Watt, 1963. 'The Consequences of Literacy'. Comparative Studies in Society and History 5 (3), 30445, reprinted in Goody 1968, 27-68. Gray, M., 1991. 'The last days of the chantries and shrines of Monmouthshire'. Journal of Welsh Ecclesiastical History 8, 20-40. Gray, M., 1996. 'Penrhys: the archaeology of a pilgrimage'. Morgannwg 40, 10-32 Gray, M., and Morgan-Guy, J., forthcoming. "'A Better and Frugal Life": Llanllugan and the Cistercian women's houses in Wales' in Cistercians in Wales and the West, ed P.V. Webster and M. Gray.

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GraefH., 1985. Mary: a history of doctrine and devotion. London: Sheed & Ward Gresham, Colin, 1986. Medieval Stone Carving in North Wales. Cardiff: University of Wales Press. Griffiths, Ralph, and Thomas, Roger, 1985. The Making of the Tudor Dynasty. Gloucester: Alan Sutton Hancock, T.W., 1879. 'Pennant Melangell: its parochial history and antiquities'. Montgomeryshire Collections 12, 53-84. Harries, Leslie, ed., 1953. Gwaith Huw Cae Llwyd ac eraill. Cardiff: University of Wales Press. Haslam, Richard, 1979. The Buildings of Powys. Cardiff and London: Penguin/University of Wales Press. Hemp, W.J., 1942-3. 'The Mostyn Christ'. 97, 231-2 and plates Hemp, W.J., 1944-45. 'The Mostyn Christ'. Archaeologia Cambrensis 98, 139-41 Henken, Elissa, 1987. Traditions of the Welsh Saints. Cambridge: D.S. Brewer. Henken, Elissa, 1991. The Welsh saints: a study in patterned lives. Cambridge: D.S. Brewer. Henry, Avril, 1987. Biblia Pauperum: a facsimile and edition. Aldershot: Scolar Press. Hildburgh, W.L., 1923-4. 'An alabaster table of the Annunciation with the Crucifix: a study in English iconography'. Archaeologia 74, 203-32. Hirsch, E.D., 1967. Validity in Interpretation. New Haven: Yale University Press. Hirst Conservation, 1999. 'Documentation of conservation works carried out to St Eilian's Church, Llaneilian-yn-Rhos', unpublished report. Hopkins, Jasper, 1972. A Companion to the Study of St Anselm. Minneapolis: University of Minnesota Press. Hubbard, Edward, 1994. The Buildings of Wales: Clwyd. Penguin/University of Wales Press. Hughes, H. Harold, and North, Herbert L., 1924. Old Churches of Snowdonia. Bangor: Jarvis and Foster. Hughes H. H. and Macalister R. A. S., 1932. Report of visit to Llanllugan. Archaeologia Cambrensis, 87, 458-61 Hutton, Ronald, 1987. 'The local impact of the Tudor Reformation' in C. Haigh, ed., The English Reformation Revised, 114-138. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Huneycutt, Lois L., 1995. 'Intercession and the High-Medieval Queen: the Esther topos' in Carpenter and MacLean, 12646. James, C., 1995. 'Penrhys: Mecca'r Genedl' in H. Teifi Edwards, ed., Cwm Rhondda. Llandysul: Gomer Press, pp 27-71 James, J.W., ed., 1967. Rhigyfarch 's Life of St David. Cardiff: University of Wales Press. James, M.R., 1924. The Apocryphal New Testament: being the Apocryphal Gospels, Acts, Epistles and Apocalypses. Oxford: Clarendon Press Jankofsky, Klaus, 1991. 'National Characteristics in the Portrayal of English Saints in the South English Legendary' in Blumenfeld-Kosinski and Szell. Jansen, K.L., 1988. 'Maria Magdalena: Apostolorum Apostola'. Kienzle and Walker, 57-96. Johnston, Dafydd, 1993. Poems of Iola Gach. Llandysul: Gomer. Johnston, Dafydd, 1995. Gwaith Lewys Glyn Cathi. Cardiff: University of Wales Press.

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Lewis, Flora, 1996. 'The Wound in Christ's Side and the Instruments of the Passion' in Lesley Smith and Jane H.M. Taylor, Women and the Book: assessing the visual evidence. London and Toronto: British Library/University of Toronto Press. Lewis, Henry, 1925. 'Dam o 'r Ffestival', Transactions of the Honourable Society of Cymmrodorion, I 923-4: supplementary volume. London: Honourable Society of Cymmrodorion. Lewis, Henry, 1931. Hen Gerddi Crejyddol. Cardiff: University of Wales Press. Lewis, Henry, Thomas Roberts and Ifor Williams, 1925. Cywyddau Iola Gach ac eraill. Cyfres y Cywyddau: Bangor, Evan Thomas. Lewis, J.M., 2000. 'The Cwmyoy Crucifix'. Monmouthshire Antiquary 16, 4 7-50.

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Lewis, Mostyn, 1970. Stained Glass in North Wales up to 1850. Altrincham: John Sherratt and Son. Lewis, Samuel, 1833. A Topographical Dictionary of Wales. London: S. Lewis. Lewis, Suzanne, 1991. 'The English Gothic Illuminated Apocalypse, lectio divina and the art of memory'. Word and Image 7(1), 1-32. Lhwyd, Edward, 1909 ed. Parochialia. London: Cambrian Archaeological Association. Little, Lester K., 1991. 'Spiritual Sanctions in Wales' in Blumenfeld-Kosinski and Szell pp 67-80.

Lloyd-Williams, Richard, and Underwood, Martin, 1872. The architectural antiquities and village churches of Denbighshire. Denbigh: Lloyd-Williams & Underwood. Long, Charles Edward, ed., 1859. Diary of the marches of the royal army during the Great Civil War, kept by Richard Symonds ... . London: Camden Society, 74. MacCulloch, Diarmaid, 1999. Tudor Church Militant: Edward VI and the Protestant Reformation. London: Allen Lane. McNamara, Jo Ann, and John E. Halborg with E. Gordon Whatley, 1992. Sainted Women of the Dark Ages. Durham and London: Duke University Press. Marrow, James H., 1979. Passion Iconography in Northern European Art of the Late Middle Ages and Early Renaissance. Kortrijk: Van Ghemmert Publishing Company. Mein, A.G., 2000. 'St Mary's Priory Church, Usk: some recent work and some new theories'. Monmouthshire Antiquary 16, 53-72. Mittendorf, Ingo, 1996. 'The Middle Welsh Mary of Egypt and the Latin source of the Miracles of the Virgin Mary' in Erich Poppe and Bianca Ross, eds., The Legend of Mary of Egypt in Medieval Insular Hagiography pp 205-36. Dublin: Four Courts Press. Morgan, N., 1993. 'Texts and Images of Marian Devotion in Fourteenth-Century England' in N. Rogers, ed., England in the Fourteenth Century: Proceedings of the 1991 Harlaxton Symposium, 34-57. Stamford: Paul Watkins. Morrice, J.C., 1908. Gwaith Barddonol Hywel Swrdwal a 'i Fab Ieuan. Bangor: Bangor Welsh Manuscripts Society. Morrice, J.C., ed., 1910. Detholiad o Waith Gruffudd ab Ieuan ab Llewelyn Vychan. Bangor: Bangor Welsh Manuscripts Society. Mulder-Bakker, Hanneka, 1995. Sanctity and Motherhood: essays on holy mothers in the Middle Ages. New York and London: Garland Publishing. Newman, John, 1995. The Buildings of Wales: Glamorgan. London and Cardiff: Penguin/University of Wales Press. Norman, Joanne S., 1988. Metamorphoses of an Allegory: the Iconography of the Psychomachia in Medieval Art. New York: Peter Lang. Ogilby, John, 1676. Britannia. Reprinted 1971: Reading: Osprey Publications. O'Reilly, Jennifer, 1987. 'The Rough-hewn Cross in Anglo-Saxon Art' in Michael Ryan, ed., Ireland and Insular Art AD 500-1200. Dublin: Royal Irish Academy. O'Reilly, Jennifer, 1988. Studies in the Iconography of the Virtues and Vices in the Middle Ages. New York and London: Garland Publishing. Orrin, G., 1988. Medieval Churches of the Vale of Glamorgan. Cowbridge: D. Brown & Sons Owst, G.R., 1961. Literature and Pulpit in Medieval England. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2nd ed.

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Royal Commission on Ancient and Historical Monuments in Wales and Monmouthshire, 1921. An inventory of the ancient monuments in Wales and Monmouthshire. Vol.6, County of Merioneth. London: H.M.S.O. Royal Commission on Ancient and Historical Monuments in Wales and Monmouthshire, 1925. An inventory of the ancient monuments in Wales and Monmouthshire. Vol.7, County of Pembroke. London : H.M.S.O. Royal Commission on Ancient and Historical Monuments in Wales, 1937. An inventory of the ancient monuments in Anglesey. London : HMSO. Royal Commission on Ancient and Historical Monuments in Wales and Monmouthshire, 1956. An inventory of the ancient monuments in Caernarvonshire. Vol.I, East: The cantref of Arllechwedd and the commote of Creuddyn. London : HMSO. Royal Commission on Ancient and Historical Monuments in Wales and Monmouthshire, 1994. The Cathedral Church of St John the Evangelist, Brecon: an architectural study. London: HMSO Rubin, Miri, 1991. Corpus Christi: the Eucharist in late medieval culture. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Rusconi, Roberto, 1988. 'Women's Sermons at the end of the Middle Ages: Texts from the Blessed and Images of the Saints'. Kienzle and Walker, 173-95. Ryan, Salvador, forthcoming, 1. 'Popular religion in Gaelic Ireland, 1450-1640'. National University oflreland, Maynooth, Ph D thesis. Ryan, Salvador, forthcoming, 2. 'The persuasive power of a mother's breast: the Virgin Mary's role as advocate in Bardic religious poetry and its connection with a secular literary motif. Submitted to Celtica for 2001. Sease, Wendy, 1993. 'St Anne and the Education of the Virgin: Literary and Artistic Traditions and their Implications' in N. Rogers, ed., England in the Fourteenth Century: Proceedings of the 1991 Harlaxton Symposium, 81-96. Stamford: Paul Watkins. Schapiro, Meyer, 1973. Words and Pictures: on the literal and the symbolic in the illustration of a text. The Hague and Paris: Mouton. Schiller, Gertrude, 1972. Iconography of Christian Art. London: Lund Humphries, 2 vols. Schleif, Corine, 1993. 'Hands that appoint, anoint and ally: late medieval donor strategies for appropriating approbation through painting'. Art History 16(1), 1-32. Sheingom, Pamela, 1983. "'The Wise Mother": The Image of St Anne teaching the Virgin Mary', Gesta 32, 69-80 Smalley, Beryl, 1952. The Study of the Bible in the Middle Ages. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2nd ed. Spencer, H. Leith, 1993. English preaching in the late Middle Ages. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Strachey, J.P., 1924. Poem on the Assumption. Cambridge Anglo-Norman Texts v. l. Cambridge: University Press. Tarr, Roger, 1997. "'Visibile parlare": the spoken word in fourteenth-century central Italian painting'. Word and Image 13 (3), 223-44. Thomas, Ceinwen, 1940. 'The social and religious history of Wales from 1350 to 1550, as reflected in the literature of the period'. National University of Ireland, Dublin, Ph.D. thesis. Thomas, D.R., 1874. The History of the Diocese of St Asaph. London and St Asaph: James Parker and Charles Hughes. Thomas, D.R., 1876. 'Extracts from old wills relating to Wales and the Marches'. Archaeologia Cambrensis 4th series 7, 220-7. Thomas, D.R., 1877. 'Llangwm Ucha, Monmouthshire'. Archaeologia Cambrensis 4th series 8, 40-51.

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Thomas, D.R., 1878. 'Extracts from old wills relating to Wales and the Marches'. Archaeologia Cambrensis 4th series 9, 148-56. Thomas, D.R., 1880. 'Extracts from old wills relating to Wales and the Marches'. Archaeologia Cambrensis 4th series 11, 217-21. Thomas, D.R., 1908-13. Esgobaeth Llanelwy. The history of the diocese of St Asaph. 3 vols. Oswestry: Caxton Press. Vauchez, Andre, 1991. 'Lay people's sanctity in Western Europe' in Blumenfeld-Kosinski and Szell pp 21-32. Vauchez, Andre (ed. Daniel E. Bornstein, trans. Margery J. Schneider), 1993. The Laity in the Middle Ages: Religious Beliefs and Devotional Practices. Notre Dame and London: University of Notre Dame Press Voragine, Jacobus de, trans. W.G. Ryan, 1993. The Golden Legend Readings on the Saints. Princeton, New Jersey: Princeton University Press. Wade-Evans, A.W., 1944. Vitae sanctorum Britanniae et genealogiae. Cardiff: University of Wales Press. Ward, J., ed., 1914. 'Our Lady of Penrhys', Archaeologia Cambrensis 6th series, vol xiv Weinstein, D., and R.M. Bell, 1986. Saints and Society: the two worlds of Western Christendom, 1000-1700. Chicago and London: University of Chicago Press. Wheeler, R.E.M., 1930. 'A pax at Abergavenny'. Antiquaries Journal l 0, 356-8. Whitford, R., 1979. A Werke for Householders; A Dayly Exercyse and Experyence of Death, ed. J. Hogg. Salzburg: AngloAmerican Institute. Salzburg Studies in English Literature 89. Williams, D., 1950. A History of Modern Wales. London: Murray. Williams, D.H., 1976. 'Cwm-hir Abbey'. Cistercian Studies 11. Williams, D.H., 1993. A Catalogue of Seals in the National Museum of Wales. Cardiff: National Museum of Wales. Williams, G., 1976. The Welsh Church from Conquest to Reformation. Cardiff: University of Wales Press. Williams, G., 1987. Recovery, reorientation and reform : Wales c.1415-1642. Oxford: Clarendon Press. Williams, G ., 1991. 'Poets and Pilgrims in Fifteenth- and Sixteenth-century Wales'. Transactions of the Honourable Society of Cymmrodorion 69-98. Williams, G., 1997. Wales and the Reformation. Cardiff: University of Wales Press. Williams, G.J ., and Jones, E.J ., 1934. Gramadegau 'r Penceirddiaid. Cardiff: University of Wales Press. Williams, I., and Roberts, T., 1935. Cywyddau Dafydd ap Gwilym a 'i Gyfoeswr. Cardiff: University of Wales Press. Williams, I., and Williams, J. LL, 1961. Gwaith Guto 'r Glyn. Cardiff: University of Wales Press. Williams, J.E. Caerwyn, 1944. 'Bucheddau'r Saint: eu cefndir a'u datblygiad fel llen' BBCS 11, 149-57 Williams, J.E. Caerwyn, 1973. 'Buchedd Catrin Sant'. BBCS 25, 247-68 Williams, John Morgan, and Eurys I Rowlands, eds., 1976. Gwaith Rhys Brydydd a Rhisiart ap Rhys. Cardiff: University of Wales Press. Willis, Browne, 1721. A Survey of the Cathedral Church a/Bangor. London: Robert Gosling. Wright, W., 1865. Contributions to the apocryphal literature of the New Testament. London: Williams and Norgate.

99

Images of Piety

100

Illustrations

l(a) Abergavenny (Mon): the Annunciation, from the tomb of Sir William ap Thomas and Gwladus his wife. The figure of God in the top left of the central panel is blowing the Word towards Mary. (b) Abergavenny: Assumption and Coronation of the Virgin Mary, from the tomb of Sir Richard Herbert ofEwyas

101

Images of Piety

2(a) Abergavenny: the Twelve Apostles with their scrolls, from the tomb of Sir William ap Thomas and Gwladus his wife. (b) Abergavenny: the wooden figure of Jesse

102

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Illustrations

5 (a) Caerwys (Flint): dragons and vine trail, formerly part of canopy of honour. (b) Ceri (Mont): Instruments of the Passion on font

105

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6 Cilcain (Flint): Crucifixion with St Michael and St Peter

Illustrations

7 Cilcain: the weeping Virgin Mary at the Crucifixion

107

Images of Piety

8 Coety (Glam): Easter Sepulchre (general)

108

Illustrations

9 (a) Coety: the Five Wounds. (b) The Instruments of the Passion - ladder, spear, cross and crown of thorns, dice shakers

109

Images of Piety

10 (a) Coety: the Instruments of the Passion - the cockerel on the column, the pillar, whips and scourges, lanterns, Judas's money-bag. (b) The Instruments of the Passion - nails, hammer and pliers, spear and sponge and another whip

110

Illustrations

11 Colwinston (Glam): St Nicholas and the miracle of the boy in the bath-tub

111

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Illustrations

15 Gresford: chancel, East window (general)

115

Images of Piety

16 (a) Gresford: Virgin Mary with lilies and palm. (b) St John the Evangelist

116

Illustrations

17 Gresford: Christ with the Virgin Mary on his knee

117

Images of Piety

18(a) Gresford: God the Father. (b) Holy Spirit

118

Illustrations

19(a) Gresford: Archangel Gabriel at Annunciation. (b) Virgin Mary with dove

119

Images of Piety

20(a) Gresford: Te Deum. Female martyrs - Barbara, Catherine, Margaret, Dorothy. (b) Specialised angels - Power, Throne and Principality

120

Illustrations

21(a) Female angels with diadems. (b) Popes and a bishop

121

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24 Gresford: St Apollonia and St Christopher

124

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25(a) Gresford: St Michael and ?St Zita. (b) Gresford: fra2:mentarv Fla2:ellation

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26(a) Gresford: font. St Alban. (b) St James.

126

Illustrations

26 (c) St Leonard of Limoges. (d) St Zita

127

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27 Gres ford: piercing of parclose screen

Illustrations

28 Hope: head of episcopal saint (?Thomas Becket), fragment of Te Deum, birds in a basket (possibly from the Purification of the Virgin Mary)

129

Images of Piety

29 Kemeys Inferior (Mon): Crucifixion from rood screen ( photo: National Museums and Galleries of Wales)

130

Illustrations

30 Llanarth (Mon): Virgin and Child

131

Images of Piety

31(a) Llandderfel (Meir): Derfel's 'horse' and staff. (b) Llandderfel: pierced wainscot originally to east of rood loft

132

Illustrations

32(a) Llandeilo Tal-y-bont (Glam): two grotesque heads spitting at Christ crowned with thorns (photo: National Museums and Galleries of Wales). (b) Llandeilo Tal-y-bont: Bound Christ (photo: National Museums and Galleries of Wales)

133

Images of Piety

33(a) Llandyrnog (Denb): the Annunciation. (b) Llandyrnog: Coronation of the Virgin

134

Illustrations

34(a) Llandyrnog: St Asaph. (b) St David

135

Images of Piety

35(a) Llandyrnog: St Marcella. (b) St Winifred

136

Illustrations

36(a) Llandymog: St Frideswide. (b) St Catherine

137

Images of Piety

3 7 Llandyrnog: Crucifixion from Seven Sacrament window

138

Illustrations

38(a) Llandymog: Matrimony. (b) Ordination

139

Images of Piety

39 (a) Llandyrnog: Extreme Unction. (b) Llandyrnog: St James the Great and St John the Evangelist

140

Illustrations

40(a) Llaneilian-yn-Rhos (Denb): the Last Judgement with the Virgin Mary and St Michael. (b) Llanengan (Caems): rood screens

141

Images of Piety

4l(a) Llanengan: the Five Wounds on the rood screen. (b) Llanfrynach (Glam): squint from rood loft, suggesting possible location of rood altar

142

Illustrations

42 Llangadwaladr (Ang): East window (general)

143

Images of Piety

43 Llangadwaladr: Crucifixion

144

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45 Llangadwaladr: donor figures

Illustrations

46 Llan-gan (Glam), churchyard cross: Crucifixion

147

Images of Piety

4 7 Llan-gan: Pieta

148

Illustrations

a

b

48(a) Llan-gan: episcopal saint. (b) female saint

149

Images of Piety

49(a) Llangollen (Denb): canopy of honour. (b) angel with cross and crown of thorns

150

Illustrations

50(a) Llangystennin (Caems): Image of Pity. (b) Llanidloes (Mont): angels with Instruments of the Passion

151

Images of Piety

51 Llanrhaiadr-yng-Nghinmeirch (Denb ): Jesse window (general)

152

Illustrations

52(a) Llanrhaiadr: Jesse. (b) Isaiah and Zechariah

153

Images of Piety

53 Llanrhaiadr: King David

154

Illustrations

54 Llanrhaiadr: Virgin and Child surmounted by pelican

155

Images of Piety

55(a) Llanrhychwyn: Trinity. (b) Llanrwst (Denb): rood screen (general)

156

Illustrations

5 6( a) Llanrwst: Instruments of the Passion and Agnus Dei on the rood screen. (b) Llanrwst: piercing of rood screen

157

Images of Piety

57(a) Llantwit Major (Glam): Jesse niche and squint. (b) detail of Jesse niche

158

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6l(a) Penallt (Mon): passage squint from south aisle to chancel. (b) Pennant Melangell (Mont): St Melangell with hare and crozier (photo: National Library of Wales)

162

Illustrations

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167

Images of Piety

67(a) Wrexham (Denb): Doom (general). (b) Detail of central figures

168

Index Aaron, St 39 Abergavenny (Mon) 9, 10, 12, 28, 46, 63, 67, 70, 77, 79-80 Abergele (Denb) 9, 81 Abraham 26, 69 absolution 28, 67, 69 acorns 64, 68 Adam ofUsk 14 Aelhaiarn, St 38-40 Agatha, St 29 Agnus Dei 4 7, 68, 69 Alban, St 31-32 Alfonso X of Castile and Leon, Can tigas of 16 altar rails 83-84 Amadeus of Lausanne 6-7 Ambrose, St 6, 22 Andrew, St 26, 70 angel roofs 65, 66, 71, 77 angels 65 Anne, St 3, 8-9, 13, 17-21, 23-24, 35, 62, 66 Ann es of Caerleon 24 Annunciation 1-2, 9-11, 18, 35, 41, 51, 61-63, 70, 81 Anselm, St, Christo logy of 8, 48, 68 Anthony, St 3, 28, 30-31, 33, 61 Apollonia, St 28-31 Apostles 25, 26, 35, 63, 68, 69, 70 Apostles' Creed 51, 61, 63, 68 Arma Christi see Five Wounds; Instruments of the Passion Atmel (Atmagillus), St 42-43 Arnold ofBonneval 16 Asaph, St 35-36, 40, 60 ass's jawbone 52 Augustine of Canterbury, St 40 Ave Maria 9, 61, 63, 64

breast milk 47, 68 breast-feeding 16-17, 19 Brecon 50 Rood at 42, 45, 50, 62 Brigid oflreland/Wales, St 21, 37, 38, 45 Brigid of Sweden, St 18, 19, 21, 23, 26, 38, 45, 64 Brigid, St (various) 35, 70 Brochwel, king of Powis 37 Brychan Brycheiniog 24 Buddhism, reading rituals in 61 Burton (Pembs) 67 Burton-on-Trent school of carvers 12 Buttington (Mont) 81 Cadoc, St 21 Cadogan, Thomas, valet of the Crown 14 Cadoxton-juxta-Barry (Glam) 77, 84 Cadwaladr, St (Cadwaladr Fendigaid) 37, 40, 50, 87 Caernarfon Castle, garrison chapel in 82 Caerwys (Flint) 61, 63, 67, 68, 71, 82, 84 Canna, St 21, 40 canopies of honour 26, 46, 69-71, 84 see also Gyffin; Llaneilian-yn-Rhos Cardiff, cordwainers' and grocers' guild 45 Trinity chapel in St John's Church in 45 Cardigan, image of Our Lady of the Taper at 14, 74 Catherine of Alexandria, St 3, 27-30, 35-36, 49, 69, 80 Cefu Tilla (Mon) 45-46 Cemaes (Mont) 84 Ceri (Mont) 51, 66 Cerrigydrudion (Denb) 84 Chad, St 40 chalices 46-47, 50, 51, 66-69, 73, 87 chantries 60 charity 18, 24, 32, 35, 56-58 Chester, Rood at 42 childbirth 12, 28, 29 Christ 41-53 Baptism of 50 Presentation in Temple 12-13 Flagellation 45-47, 50, 52, 82 Crucifixion 1, 2, 3, 41-53, 64-65, 67, 81, 82 Deposition from the Cross 49, 50, 85 Embalming 50 Entombment 85 Resurrection 50-52, 63, 71-72, 85 as Logos 1 inMajesty48-49, 71, 72 as the Man of Sorrows 7-8, 27-28, 43-44, 49, 52-53, 64 of the Trades 44-45 in triumph 48 Christopher, St 27, 28, 69 church furniture 83-85 churchyard crosses 6, 13, 31, 40, 50, 52, 58, 77, 82 Cilcain (Flint) 6, 26, 50, 77 Civil War, iconoclasm during 73, 79 Clocaenog (Denb) 51, 73, 81, 84 Clynnog Fawr (Caerns) 34, 35, 38-40 Coety (Glam) 45, 71 Column of the Flagellation 46-47 Colwinston (Glam) 6, 32, 33, 71 confession 26, 54, 66, 67 confirmation 66

Bangor Cathedral 42, 64 Bound Christ at 42, 49, 52, 76 Bangor Iscoed (Bangor-on-Dee, Flint) 25, 40, 51, 62, 66 baptism 51, 66 see also fonts Barbara, St 26, 28-29, 33, 69 Barlow, William, bishop of St David's 74 Basingwerk Abbey (Flint) 77 Beaufort, Margaret 4, 14, 20-21, 30-31, 65 Beaumaris (Ang) 6, 81 Beddgeleti (Caerns) 82 Bede, the Venerable 37, 40 Bedwellty (Mon) 45, 71, 72 Bernard ofClairvaux 6, 12, 15-16, 44, 47, 51-52 Betws Gwerful Goch (Meir) 7, 42, 44, 46, 49, 68, 76, 82-83 Beuno, St27,34,35,38-40 Bible 1, 52 medieval interpretation of 2 Welsh translation of 62 bishops 34, 36, 40, 43, 51, 58, 66 Bletherston (Pembs) 71 Bodfari (Flint) 80, 85 Bonaventure 13 Book of the Anchorite ofL!anddewibreji 44, 63-64 books, as visual images 3, 9, 10, 18, 21, 26, 28, 30, 32, 35-37, 61-62 books of hours 62 Bound Christ 42-43, 49, 52-53, 62-63, 76, 81 Brawdy (Pembs) 67

169

Images of Piety

Conway, Archdeacon Peter 60 Conwy (Caems) 8, 41 Walton chapel in church of 11 com sheaves, as decorative motif 68, 71, 89 Corpus Christi 48, 66, 71 Corwen (Meir) 84 Cowbridge (Glam) 32 Coychurch (Glam) 40 Cradock, Margaret, wife of Richard Herbert ofEwias 70 Crallo, St 40 Croes Naid 47 Cromwell, Thomas 14, 74-75 Crown of Thoms 46-47 Cwm (Flint) 58, 71 Cwm-hir Abbey (Rad) 11, 47, 77 Cwm-iou (Mon) 31, 73 Cydweli (Carms) 14, 76 Cyffylliog (Denb) 12-13, 83, 84 Dafydd ab Edmwnt 9 Dafydd ap Gwilym 26 Dafydd ap Llywelyn ofCastellhywel 35 Dafydd Ddu Hiraddug 13, 66 Dafydd Eppynt 7 Davenport, Ralph, mayor of Chester, and wife Christiana 61, 87 David, King 26 David, St 29, 32, 34-36, 39, 40, 60 Davies, Richard, bishop of St David's 74 Dayly Exercise and Experyence of Death 52 death 28, 51-52, 66, 69 Deiniol, St 34, 40 Denbigh Castle, St Hilary chapel in 80 Derfel, St (Derfel Gadarn) 38, 73, 74-75, 80 Derwen (Denb) 6, 13, 58 Devil, the see Satan devotio moderna 41 Dewi, St see David Diserth (Flint) 13, 26, 46, 60, 63, 66, 68 Dolwyddelan (Caerns) 13, 27, 81 Doncaster, image ofBVM at 14 donors 5, 12,21,31,35,37,4~41,60,61,87-88 see also patronage Dorothy, St 28-29, 33 dragons 3, 28, 32-33, 68, 84 Dunawd, St 25, 40 Durandus, bishop ofMande 10 Dwynwen, St 35 Eagle and Child 81 Easter 67, 71-72 Easter Sepulchres 23, 48, 71-72 Easter Sunday liturgy 62-63 Edwards family, of Plasnewydd and Plas y Pentre 42-43 Efa ferch Gruffydd ap Tudur 64 Eglwys Rhos (Denb) 80 Eilian, St 25, 40 Einion ap Gruffydd ofLlechwedd Ystrad 37 Elen wife ofOwain ap Meurig (Llangadwaladr) 37, 60 Elisabeth of Schonau 11 Elizabeth, St (various) 21, 28, 80 Eluned, St 44 Elvetha, St 24 Epiphany 67, 70 see also Magi Etymachia 55

Eucharist 26, 28, 30, 38, 50-51, 66-72, 73 Evagrius of Pontus 54 Evangelists 35, 61, 62, 70 emblems of 53, 62, 66, 68 Extreme Unction 51, 52, 66 Feeding of the Five Thousand 70 Fifteen Oes of St Brigid 21-2, 38, 45, 63, 64 Fisher, John 65 Five Wounds 45-46, 48, 53, 68, 71, 80 fonts 46, 51, 62, 66, 83 Forest, John, Franciscan friar 75 Francis of Assisi, St, Christo logy of 48 Frideswide, St 3, 35-36, 60 Gabriel, Archangel see also Annunciation 9 galleries in churches 76, 79, 83, 86 George, St 3, 28, 32-33, 81, 84, 87 Gerald of Wales 44 Gloddaith (Denb) 42, 76 Glyndwr uprising 15 Godfrey ofVorau 55 Goldcliff(Mon) 24 Golgotha 50, 52, 81 Good Friday, liturgy 4 7, 51, 68, 71-72 gospels 9, 32, 62 grape-vine motif see vine trails Gregory the Great, St 54 Mass of 43 Gresford (Denb) 4, 6, 8-14, 23, 26-32, 40, 45, 46, 50, 58, 60-62, 64-66,68,69, 73, 79, 81-82, 85, 87 Gruffudd Dderwas ofNannau 35 Gruffudd Gryg 66 Gruffudd Llwyd 9-10 Gruffydd, Elis 74 William, burgess ofConwy (Caems) 8 Gmffydd ab Ieuan ap Llywelyn Fychan 42, 89 Gmffydd ap Gwilym 36, 61 Gumfreston (Pemb) 86, 44 Guto'r Glyn 37, 64 Gwalchmai ap Meilyr 55 Gwenhwyfar wife ofGmffudd Dderwas ofNannau 35 Gwenllian ferch Madoc 36 Gwenllian ferch Rhys 24 Gwenllian ferch Madog 61 Gwemesney (Mon) 84 Gwilym Tew 15, 16 Gwladus ferch Syr Dafydd Garn 9-10, 24, 63, 79-80 Gwladus, St 21 Gwynllyw, St 21 Gwytherin (Denb) 40, 82-83 Gyffin (Caerns) 21, 23, 25, 26, 70 Halkyn (Flint) 6 Hanmer (Flint) 32, 40 Hardwick (Camb) 57, 55 hares 37 Haverfordwest (Pembs) 14 Hawarden (Flint) 47, 77 Herbeti, Richard, of Coldbrook 28 Richard, ofEwias 12, 70 William [ofNewpoti] 75 heritage industry 85-86 Herod 30, 69 Herodias 30

170

Index

Lewis Glyn Cothi 35, 38, 63 Lewis Morgannwg 14-15, 17, 8 lilies 9-10, 9-11, 71 Lily Crucifixion 8, 10-11 Limoges (France), church of St Anne at 19 literacy 1-2, 60-72, 88 female 18-19 liturgy 60-72 Good Friday 47, 68, 71-72 Holy Week 48-49, 71-72 Palm Sunday 50 Llanallgo (Ang) 80 Llanarmon-yn-Ial (Denb) 13 Llanarth (Mon) 8, 77 Llanasa (Flint) 3, 6, 27, 36, 40 Llanbabo (Ang) 36 Llanbadam Fawr (Cards) 84, 84-85 Llanbeblig (Caerns) 6, 45 Llanbedr Ystrad Yw (Bree) 49 Llanbedrog (Caerns) 61 Llanblethian (Glam) 44-45, 84 Llancarfan (Glam) 13, 69, 71, 73, 82, 86 Raglan chapel in parish church 70 Llandaff Cathedral 77, 43-44 shrine of St Teilo at 78 Llandanwg (Meir) 70 Llandderfel (Meir) 38, 71, 74-75, 83 Llandderfel (Mon) 38, 73, 80 Llanddewibrefi (Cards) 34 Llandegfedd (Mon) 72 Llandegla (Denb) 13, 38 Llandegley (Rads) 38 Llandeilo Talybont (Glam) 8, 27, 28, 32, 41, 43, 44, 47-51, 64, 65, 72, 78,80,85 Llandudno (Caems) 82 Llandwrog (Caerns) 85 Llandymog (Denb) 9, 10, 27, 28, 34-36, 40, 50-52, 60-63, 66-68, 80, 81, 12-13 Llandysilio (Denb) 6 Llandysul (Mont) 83 Llaneilian (Ang) 25, 40, 84 Llaneilian-yn-Rhos (Denb) 9, 11, 16-18, 20, 23, 25, 41, 50, 58, 70,80 Llaneleu (Bree) 6, 49, 78 Llanelidan (Denb) 45, 46, 62, 63, 67 Llanengan (Caerns) 45, 68 Llanfaes (Ang), Rood at 42 Llanfair Cilgedin (Mon) 85 Lian fair Dyffryn Clwyd (Denb) 21, 26-28, 61, 63, 68, 80 Llanfarchell (Denb) 35, 84 Llanfechell (Ang) 45, 68 Llanferres (Denb) 82 Llanfihangel Ysceifiog (Ang) 47 Llanfilo (Bree) 25 Llanfrynach (Glam) 46, 71 Llanfwrog (Denb) 83 Llangadog (Catms) 59 Llangadwaladr (Ang) 6-7, 37, 40, 50-51, 60, 68, 72, 87 Llan-gan (Glam) 6, 7, 40, 45, 47, 52 Llangar (Meir) 8, 55-58, 80, 85 Llangedwyn (Denb) 85 Llangiwa (Mon) 85 Llangollen (Denb) 65, 66, 70, 71 Llangwm (Denb) 84 Llangwm Isaf(Mon) 85

Hildegard of Bingen 65, 56 Hoare, ..., Prior of Cardigan 14 Holland, Humfrey, of Conwy 11 Holt (Denb) 9 Holy Blood 73 cult of 50-51 Holy Grail 4 7 Holy Kindred 3, 13, 20, 80 holy water stoups 77 Holy Week, liturgy 48-49, 71-72 Holywell (Flint) 38, 82-83 St Winifred's Well at 20 Hope (Flint) 12-13, 19, 20, 26, 27, 32, 61, 62, 64, 8-9 Hubert, St 25, 58 Hugh of St Victor, Expositio Moralia of 63 hunting 37 Huw Cae Llwyd 4 7 Hywel ap David [Gresford] 87 iconoclasm 73-82 Ida ofBoulogne 19 Iestyn, St (Iestyn ap Geraint ab Erbin) 36, 60 leuan ap Hywel Swrdwal 16, 17, 66 leuan Deulwyn 7 Image of Pity 7-8, 27-28, 43-44, 49, 52-53, 64 Incarnation 3, 4, 8-11, 13-14, 16, 26, 41, 63, 68, 70 infertility 12 Instruments of the Passion 17, 27, 42, 43-44, 46-50, 53, 66-68, 71, 77, 80, 84 lolo Goch 10, 12, 26, 54, 64 lolo Morgannwg 15, 40 lorwerth Fynglwyd 21, 38, 45 Ipswich, image ofBVM at 14 Ireland 37 Isaac, Sacrifice of 26, 69 James the Great, St 26-27, 30-32, 49, 63 James the Less, St 26 James of Milan 53 James ofVitry 66-67 Jeremiah 42 Joachim, St 8-9, 17-21 Job 42 John ap Madoc Fychan [Gresford] 21 John the Baptist 17, 23, 28, 30-31, 33, 58, 61, 66, 69, 81 John Cassian, St 54, 55 John the Evangelist, St 6-7, 9-10, 22, 26, 42, 62, 69 Johns, Edward, rector ofL!anynys 80 Joseph of Arimathea 47 Jude, St 26 Julius, St 39 Katarina, St, dau of Brigid of Sweden 19 Kemeys Inferior (Mon) 75-76, 78 carving of Crucifixion from 41-42 Lamb of God see Agnus Dei Lambeth Conference, 1281 54, 63, 66 Last Judgement 3, 15-17, 25, 28, 32, 45, 46, 50, 53, 58-59, 67 Last Supper 47, 50, 69, 70 Latimer, Hugh 14, 73-74 Lawrence, St 2, 27 Le Puy (France), image ofBVM at 14 Leonard of Limoges, St 31-32 Leonard, St 73

171

Images of Piety

Llangwm Uchaf(Mon) 59, 85 Llangybi (Caerns) 84 Llangybi (Mon) 16, 44, 65 Llangynhafal (Denb) 40, 84 Llangynwyd (Glam) 71 Rood at 42 Llangystennin (Caerns) 16, 26, 27, 32, 43, 58 Llanidloes (Mont) 45, 66, 77 Llaniestyn (Ang) 36, 61 Llaniestyn (Caerns) 36 Llanllugan (Mont) 5, 23, 25-26, 32, 38, 52, 60, 62, 81, 87 Llanmaes (Glam) 32, 33 Llanmerewig (Mont) 83 Llanmihangel (Glam) 19 Lian-non (Cards) 37-38 Llanrhaeadr-ym-Mochnant (Denb) 82 Llanrhaeadr-yng-Nghinmeirch (Denb) 9, 13, 26, 46, 47, 60, 67, 68, 73, 80-81, 87 Llanrhudd (Denb) 80 Llanrhychwyn (Caerns) 6, 34, 40, 45, 68 Llanrwst (Denb) 6, 42, 46, 47, 68, 76 Llansanffraid Glan Conwy (Denb) 27, 28, 31 Llansanffraid (Mon) 84, 85 Llansannan (Denb) 83 Llansannor (Glam) 27 Llansawel (Carms) 71 Llansilin (Denb) 40 Llantarnam Abbey (Mon) 73 Llanthony Priory (Mon) 79 Llantrithyd (Glam) 67 Llantwit Major (Glam) 6, 23, 25, 27, 46, 67, 69-71, 76-77 Llanwddyn (Mont) 41, 50, 65 Llanwenllwyfo (Ang) 85 Llanwnnog (Mont) 40 Llanwrin (Mont) 51, 68, 79 Llanynys (Denb) 27, 80 Llanystumdwy (Caerns) 14 Lleucu wife ofDafydd ap Llywelyn ofCastellhywel 35 Llyfr Ancr Llanddewibreji 44, 63-64 Llysfaen (Denb) 83 Llywelyn ap Hywel ab Ieuan ap Gronw 47, 59 Long Melford (Suffolk) 7 Longinius's spear 47 Luke, St 26

Immaculate Conception 3, 8, 18, 20 birth 19, 60 early life 8-9 Presentation 8 Purification 9 education 18-20, 62 and Child 8, 13-15, 28, 31-32, 41, 71, 76-77 breastfeeding by 16-17 death and Assumption 11-12, 70 Coronation 3, 11-13, 35, 81, 83 in eucharistic imagery 69-70 girdle of 12 interceding for souls 16-17, 58-59 liturgies of 64 Our Lady of Pity 7-8 Our Lady of the Taper 14 Star of the Sea 8 tears of blood of7 Throne of Wisdom 14, 16 Mary of Egypt, St 24 Mary Magdalene 22-24, 26, 66, 69-71 Mass of St Gregory 43 Matthew, Miles [ofLlandaft] 78 Matthias, St 63 Meifod (Mont) 40 Melangell, St 37 memory theory 65 Meredudd ap Rhys, vicar ofRhiwabon 55-57, 63 Methodist Revival 89 Meurig ap Llywelyn ap Hulkyn 60, 87 Michael, St 3, 15-16, 28, 32-33, 50, 58, 58-59, 81 Mirk, John, Festial 13, 35, 44, 50-52, 66 Instructions/or Parish Priests 51, 54, 63 misericords 9, 58, 65 Mochdre (Mont) 6, 14, 41-42, 76 Mold (Flint) 6, 9, 14, 18, 20, 38, 43, 46, 47, 60, 61, 66, 70, 81, 82 Mostyn Christ 42, 43, 49, 52, 76 Mostyn family, ofCreuddyn 42 Mostyn family, ofGloddaeth 42, 76 Museum of Welsh Life, St Fagan's 85 music 65 Mwnt (Cards) 25 mystery plays, Welsh 7, 50, 59

Mabli ferch Gwilym 24 Maenan Abbey (Denb) 42 Magi 11 Adoration of 9, 41 Man of Sorrows see Image of Pity Marchell (Marcella), St 35-36, 40, 40, 60 Margam Abbey (Glam) 79 Margaret of Antioch, St 28-29, 61 Margaret ferch Evan Fychan, wife ofMeurig ap Llywelyn ap Hulkyn 60, 87 Margaret wife ofHywel ap David [Gresford] 87 Mark, St, evangelist 32, 61 lion as emblem of 31 marriage 51, 66 Marriage at Cana 69 Marshall, John, bishop ofLlandaff 43-44 martyrdom 39 instruments of 4 7 martyrs 27-30, 68-69 Mary, Blessed Virgin 1-2, 6-21, 26, 28, 42, 61, 67, 80-81, 82

Nativity 9, 11, 41 Neath Abbey (Glam) 50, 79 Neave, Sir Arundel 85 Nerquis (Flint) 6, 32, 34, 83-84 Nest ofCaeo 35 Nest, wife of Sir Sion Stradling ofWestplas 24 New Radnor (Rad) 84 Newton Nottage (Glam) 45, 50, 52 Newtown (Mont) 83, 84 Nicholas of Myra, St 32, 33 Nicholas, St 24, 28 Non, St 21, 35, 37-38 oak leaves 37, 64, 68 Old Radnor (Rad) 27, 28, 84, 71 Order of the Garter 32 ordination 51, 66 Oswestry (Salop) 35 Owain ap Meurig (Llangadwaladr) 37, 60 Oxford University, Welsh connections with 35

172

Index

rood screens I, 6, 7, 15, 26, 41-42, 45-47, 49, 50, 53, 62, 64, 6668, 75-79, 82-85, 89 rosary 64 roses 71

Pabo, St 36, 40, 60 Palm Sunday liturgy 50, 62 Palm Sunday processions 71 Pange lingua gloriosi 64 parclose screens 66-68, 84, 85 Parker, the Rev John 83, 84 Parr, Catherine I passover 68 patens 46, 66, 67 Paternoster 63-64 patron saints 19, 26, 28-29, 32, 34-36, 40 patronage see also donors 3, 4, 12, 14, 20-21, 30-32, 57, 60, 8788 Paul, St 26 paxes 67 pelican in her piety 47-48, 68 Penallt (Mon) 67 penance 51, 54, 66, 67 Penmon (Ang) 27 Pennant Melangell (Mont) 25, 37 Penrhys (Glam) 8, 14-15, 73, 75 Peter of Celle 9 Peter, St 26, 28, 50, 80 pews 83 Philip, St 26, 70 Pit:ta 6, 7-8, 45 pigs 3, 30, 36 pilgrimages 32, 37, 38, 47, 51, 73, 74 Pilleth (Rads) 14 Plas Newydd near Chirk (Denb) 43 Plas y Pentre, near Llangollen (Denb) 42-43, 46 poetry, Welsh 4, 24, 54-55, 59 Porthkerry (Glam) 67 prayers for dead 60 Price, Dr Ellis 74-75 primers 62 prophets 26 see also Tree of Jesse: Te Deum Psychomachia of Prudentius 56 pulpits 45, 50, 52, 83 pulpitum screens 84 Purgatory 60 Puw family, of Penrhyn Creuddyn 42

Sabbatarianism 44-45 sacraments, seven 51, 66, 81 sacring bells 67 St Asaph Cathedral 84 chapter seal 35 St Asaph (Denb), church of St Kentigern and St Asaph in 80 St Beuno's College, Tremeirchion 82 St Bride's Major (Glam) 38, 45 St David's Cathedral 20, 41, 77 St David's (Pemb) 74 St Non's chapel at 38 St Dogmael's Abbey (Pembs) 17 St Mary Hill (Glam) 40, 50, 58 St Nicholas (Glam) 67 saints, emblems of 26, 33, 63 Salome 30, 69 Salusbury, Thomas 81, 87 Samson 52 Satan 9, 15, 28, 52, 58-59 sermons 52 see also Mirk, John, Festial Sessio see Bound Christ Seven Cardinal Vitiues 54-59 Seven Corporal Works of Mercy 54-59, 63, 85 Seven Deadly Sins 54-59, 63-64, 85 grouped round Pride 55-56 riding on animals 55 Seven Sacraments 51, 66, 81 Seven Words from the Cross 64 sheela-na-gigs 38 Shepherds, Adoration of 9, 41 Silin, St 40 Sion Cent 54-55, 58 Sitha, St 28, 30-31, 31-2 Skenfrith (Mon) 44 Smith, John, Archdeacon ofLlandaff78 soldiers at Cmcifixion 50-51 Solomon 26 squints 67 stained glass, destruction of 79-82 Stanley, Thomas, earl of Derby 87, 20-1, 30 Stanley family, heraldic emblems of 81 Stephen, St 26 Strata Florida Abbey (Card) 79, 47 Sunday Christ 44-45, 58, 65, 84, 86 Sunday, St, cult of 45 Symonds, Richard 12, 79, 80-81 Syon, Bridgettines of 52 tau cross 68 Te Deum 64 Te Deum windows 4, 13, 26, 28, 61 Tecla, St 38 Teilo, St 32 skull and shrine of78 Tertullian 56 text in visual imagery I, 60-64 Theda, St 38 thieves at Cmcifixion 50 Thomas the Apostle, St 12 Thomas Becket, St 31, 32, 33, 39

Radegund of Poi tiers, St 22-24, 31, 64 Raglan Castle (Mon) 46 reception theory 3 Redwick (Mon) 73 reredoses 12, 25, 69-70 Rhisiart ap Rhys 7, 14 Rhiw (Caems) 14 Rhiwabon (Denb) 46, 55-58, 64, 85 Rhuddlan (Flint) 80 rood at 42 Rhuddlan Friary (Flint) 77 carving of Christ at 42, 76 Richard, duke ofY ork (d 1460) 32, 60, 87 Robeti de la Chaise-Dieu 19 Robeti Lleiaf 47 Robin Ddu47 Robinson, Nicholas, bishop of Bangor 74 Roch (Pembs) 31 Roden, William, rector of Gresford 31 rood lofts 71, 83

173

Images of Piety

Valle Crucis Abbey (Denb) 26, 42-43, 50 Venantius Fortunatus 64 vernicle 47 Vexilla regis prodeunt 64 vine-trail motif 46, 68, 71, 84 Vitus, St 32

Three Kings of Cologne see Magi Tibetan Buddhism, reading rituals in 61 Tintem Abbey (Mon) 17, 23-24 image ofBVM at 14 tombs 71 iconography of9-I0, 12, 15, 28, 43-44, 63, 70 Tower of Babel 26, 81 Tree ofJesse 13, 26, 46, 61, 64, 68, 70 Tree ofKnowledge 47, 68, 71 Tree of Life 47, 68, 71 Trefdraeth (Ang) 81 Trelawnyd (Flint) 6, 52 Tremeirchion (Flint) 6, 9, 18-20, 27, 58, 61, 63, 67, 82, 84 Rood at 42 Treuddyn (Flint) 9, 23, 27, 60, 81 Trevor Hall (Denb) 26 Trillo, St 83 Trinity 6, 9-10, 12, 13, 24, 45, 68 Trotton (Sussex) 57 True Cross 46-4 7 Tudur Aled 27 Tyrnog, St35,40, 84 Tysilio, St 40

wall paintings, destruction of 84-85 Walsingham, image ofBVM at 14 Welsh St Donat's (Glam) 67 Welshpool (Mont) 82 Whitchurch (Denb) 26 Whitford, Richard 52 William ap Thomas, Sir, and wife Gwladus 79-80 tomb of9-I0, 63 Winifred, St 3, 27, 30, 34-36, 37, 38-39, 40, 80 shrine and reliquary of 82-83 well at Holywell 20 Worcester, image ofBVM at 14 Worthenbury (Flint) 85 Wrexham (Denb) 16, 26, 31, 45, 46, 47, 51, 53, 58, 82 Wycliffe, John I Yn y Modd Hwnn 63

Ursulina di Panna 19 Usk Priory (Mon) 14, 16-17, 45 chantries at 24 chapels of St Mary Magdalene and St Radegund at 22-24

174