Redemption and Remembrance: The English Ecclesiastical Tomb in the Twelfth and Thirteenth Centuries

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i Abstract

In England, prominent ecclesiastical leaders during the twelfth and early thirteenth centuries led the way in commissioning funerary monuments that feature a sculptured recumbent effigy of the deceased. Approximately sixty of their tombs form the focus of this dissertation. The effigy, which stands as one of the most innovative aspects of late medieval tombs, exerted a powerful personal presence and raises a number of questions about commemoration and self-representation in the late medieval period. At the heart of this inquiry are questions about how this type of monument met the commemorative needs of the higher clergy. The study situates the development of the effigial tomb within its broader physical and commemorative environment. It provides an analysis of the geography of episcopal burial within the spatial and political complexities of the cathedral church, and highlights the extensive preparations made by the clergy for ongoing intercessory prayer, thus correlating the concern for the soul with the provisions made for the body. An analysis of the form and iconography of the effigy suggests that the representation of 'self' on a funerary monument should be seen within the framework of salvation. While the medieval tomb functions on a number of levels, for example as institutional or dynastic propaganda, the effigial tomb in this study emerges as a visual, tangible result of complex procedures that were thought to benefit the soul.

ii Acknowledgements

A number of people deserve my thanks for their help and for their patience as I worked my way through a topic that turned out to be much larger than I ever thought possible at the outset. And still it grows! Comments made by Eric Ramírez-Weaver, Bruce Holsinger, and Lisa Reilly on my drafts have inspired new thoughts about how to build on this work and shape my research further. I thank them for their insights, for the time they put into the project, and for their support of my work in general. To Larry Goedde, an unofficial but nonetheless essential member of my support team, I must express my thanks for his unfailing encouragement and kindness. To Marion Roberts of course go the most effusive thanks. For years she has stood by me and discussed, cheered, prodded, edited, and then discussed, cheered, prodded and edited some more. To her I owe thanks not only for her help with the dissertation, but also for access to the Salisbury Project, for books, for food, for moral support, and, most importantly, for friendship. I am grateful to a number of institutions who have provided very generous fellowships. I was able to conduct research in England for several summers thanks to funding from the McIntire Department of Art and Architectural History, from the University of Virginia in the form of a Dumas Malone Graduate Research fellowship and a Nichols spring travel scholarship, and from the Paul Mellon Centre for British Art. These allowed me to visit all the relevant churches, access cathedral archives and libraries, and to delve into the collections at the Bodleian and British Libraries. Staff in all these locations were especially accommodating to this “American.” David Park generously opened the files in his department at the Courtauld Institute and talked tombs

iii with me. A residential fellowship at the Yale Center for British Art gave me access to a wonderful collection as well as enthusiastic staff and Fellows. A scholarship from the British Archaeological Association allowed me to attend a conference and discuss the dissertation with leading scholars in the field. The writing of the catalogue and two chapters were generously supported by a fellowship from the Center for Advanced Study in the Visual Arts at the National Gallery, Washington DC. Research and writing can be a lonely thing, but several people deserve special mention for providing encouragement, good cheer, food, wine, and conversation along the way. In particular I thank Cliff and Steph, Sarah and Thomas, and Ann and Paul for their hospitality overseas. Dad gamely and graciously spent a considerable amount of time looking at tombs with me. Sam and I had some great discussions about the craft of writing. Ann Hunt and Jess Aberle deserve special mention for being excellent fellow travelers along the tortuous road to completion. Throughout this project, my family and close friends have offered unconditional support and love. They learned long ago to stop asking why I was pursuing this degree or how long it would take. The greatest thanks go to Joel, who has put up with me and my tombs for longer than anyone should ever have to. Without his love, optimism, and faith in me, I would not be here in Virginia, typing these last words before officially becoming something other than a graduate student.

iv Table of Contents

Abstract

i

Acknowledgements

ii-iii

Introduction

1-21

Chapter 1: Christian Bodies and Ecclesiastical Church Burial in England, Fourth to Twelfth centuries

22-51

Chapter 2: Effigy and Ornament in Twelfth- and Thirteenth-century England

52-113

Chapter 3: Bishop, Chapter, and Burial

114-160

Chapter 4: Commemorative Ritual in the Cathedral Environment

161-238

Chapter 5: The Effigy, Remembrance, and Redemption

239- 292

Conclusion

293-298

List of Abbreviations

299

Select Bibliography

300-327

Appendix I: Catalogue of extant episcopal tombs with effigies

328-579

Appendix II: Catalogue of extant effigies of non-episcopal clergy

580-650

Appendix III: List of ecclesiastical effigies known but no longer surviving 651-655 Catalogue Illustrations

656-720

Figures

721-745

1 Introduction

By the turn of the fourteenth century, it had become desirable for the wealthy in western Europe to commemorate themselves with highly visible funerary monuments crafted from luxurious materials, exquisitely carved, and showcasing the latest developments in figure sculpture and architectural motifs. The tomb chest, raised above the level of the church pavement, often supported a life-sized recumbent sculpture of the deceased. The more luxurious of these monuments were capped by an elaborate canopy of the latest architectural style adorned with carved foliage, arcades, pinnacles, buttresses, and tracery, effectively marking the tomb site as a distinct and private sacred space within the church. No expense was spared. Alabaster, brass, and Purbeck stone were polished to a glow; figure and foliate sculpture was enlivened by gilding and paint; carved and painted heraldic devices announced identity and familial connections or political associations. Imposing monuments became standard fixtures in cathedrals and monastic churches, as well as local parish churches. The Christian doctrine of resurrection and salvation does not specify a need for an elaborate tomb or even a marked burial. Yet across western Europe from the turn of the twelfth century, highly visible effigial funerary monuments became important to those who could afford them. Monument development in the twelfth and early thirteenth centuries, during which period these ornate objects became popular, has received relatively little study from art historians. This dissertation initiates an inquiry into the early stages of the effigial tomb. What were the perceived advantages to the patron, and why were certain forms with which to commemorate oneself more desirable than others?

2 An abundance of visual evidence for early development of the effigial tomb survives in England, where the trend was wholeheartedly embraced, and where, despite religious reformation and civil war, a degree of care was taken to preserve monuments erected to and by prestigious members of society.1 In England, prominent ecclesiastical leaders during the twelfth and early thirteenth centuries led the way in commissioning funerary monuments that feature a sculptured recumbent effigy of the deceased. Approximately sixty of their tombs form the focus of this study. The effigy, which stands as one of the most innovative aspects of late medieval tombs, exerted a powerful personal presence and raises a number of questions about commemoration and self-representation in the late medieval period.

Historiography The subjects of death and dying comprise an impressive portion of medieval scholarship. The dead remained active in the minds of medieval people, as a number of historians have demonstrated. In large part this was due to the rather nebulous concept of purgatory, a state in which the soul could be purified of its sins before the final judgment, in part by the actions of the living.2 Some historians have explored the ways in which the 1

2

See for example the proclamations put forth by Elizabeth I safeguarding the tombs of forefathers during the break with the church in Rome: Margaret Aston, England’s Iconoclasts, vol. 1 (Oxford, 1988); Philip Lindley, 'Disrespect for the dead'? The Destruction of Tomb Monuments in Mid-SixteenthCentury England,” Church Monuments xix (2004), 53-79; Ibid., Tomb Destruction and Scholarship: Medieval Monuments in Early Modern England (Donington, 2007), esp. chapter 1. On purgatory, see, among others, Jacques le Goff, The Birth of Purgatory, trans. A. Goldhammer, (Chicago, 1984); Aaron Gurevic, “Au moyen age: conscience individuelle et image de l’au-delà” Annales E.S.C. 37 (1982), 256-58; ibid., Medieval Popular Culture: Problems of Belief and Perception (Cambridge, 1990); Rev'd Robert Ombres, “The Doctrine of Purgatory according to St Thomas Aquinas,” The Downside Review vol. 99, no. 337 (Oct. 1981), 279-87; G.R. Edwards, “Purgatory: birth or evolution?” Journal of Ecclesiastical History 36 (1985); Peter De Wilde, “Between Life and Death: the Journey in the Otherworld,” Death and Dying in the Middle Ages, eds. Edelgard DuBruck and

3 dead were thought to communicate with the living, in the form of ghosts, revenants, or visions.3 Others have studied medieval interpretations of the processes of judgment and resurrection.4 Still others explored the art of dying, the way in which one might avoid punitive time in purgatory and (more importantly) eternal damnation.5 Studies of a more archaeological nature have added much information about attitudes towards and treatment of the dead body in the medieval period, addressing such issues as burial customs, disease, churchyard burial patterns, and attitudes to bodily division and decay.6 Ritual associated with death is a fertile field of study. Frederick Paxton's excellent work on the development of Christian burial ritual and liturgy is useful for the early

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Barbara Gusick (New York, 1999), 175-87; Anca Bratu-Minott, “From the Bosom of Abraham to the Beatific Vision: On Some Medieval Images of the Soul’s Journey to Heaven,” Death and Dying in the Middle Ages, 189-218; Burgess, “'A fond thing vainly invented': Purgatory and Pious Motive in Later Medieval England,” Parish, Church and People: Local Studies in Lay Religion, 1350-1750, ed. S Wright, (London, 1988), 56-84; Paul Binski, Medieval Death: Ritual and Representation (London, 1996), introduction and 181-99. Jean-Claude Schmitt, Ghosts in the Middle Ages: the Living and the Dead in Medieval Society, trans. T Fagan (Chicago and London, 1998); Nancy Caciola, “Spirits seeking bodies: death, possession and communal memory in the Middle Ages,” The Place of the Dead: Death and Remembrance in Late Medieval and Early Modern Europe, eds. Bruce Gordon and Peter Marshall (Cambridge, 2000), 66-86 and bibliography therein, 66. Caroline Walker Bynum, The Resurrection of the Body in Western Christianity, 200-1336 (New York, 1995). Donald F Duclow, “Dying Well: the Ars moriendi and the Dormition of the Virgin,” Death and Dying in the Middle Ages, 379-430; Roger S Wieck, “The Death Desired: Books of Hours and the Medieval Funeral,” Death and Dying in the Middle Ages, 431-476; Binski, Medieval Death, 33-50. Steven Bassett, ed., Death in Towns: Urban Responses to the Dying and the Dead, 100-1600 (Leicester, 1992); Roberta Gilchrist and Barney Sloane, Requiem: The Medieval Monastic Cemetery in Britain (London, 2005); Christopher Daniell, Death and Burial in Medieval England, 1066-1550 (London, 1997), esp. chapters 5 and 6; Elizabeth AR Brown, “Death and the Human Body in the Later Middle Ages: The Legislation of Boniface VIII on the Division of the Corpse,” Viator: Medieval and Renaissance Studies 12 (1981), 221-270; RC Finucane, “Sacred Corpse, Profane Carrion: Social Ideals and Death Rituals in the Later Middle Ages,” Mirrors of Mortality: Studies in the Social History of Death, ed. Joachim Whaley (New York, 1981), 40-60. A number of broad-ranging works on medieval death cover these and other topics, including Daniell; Ariès, The Hour of our Death (New York, 1981); Paul Binski, Medieval Death; TSR Boase, Death in the Middle Ages: Mortality, Judgment and Remembrance (London, 1972). The latter two are primarily art-historical in content.

4 medieval period.7 Late medieval funerary liturgy is well-known, since the texts of the Office for the dead and the Requiem Mass survive in great numbers from this period.8 Rituals of post-mortem commemoration, which differed according to the person commemorated as well as according to the institution that was to carry out the ritual, were, however, not so prescribed. A number of studies have been conducted on commemorative ritual in the monastic environment, particularly in the early Middle Ages.9 Late medieval commemoration in the form of the chantry also has its scholars.10 7

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Frederick S. Paxton, Christianizing Death, The Creation of a Ritual Process in Early Medieval Europe (Ithaca, 1990). His study also looks closely at rituals for the sick and dying. See also Geoffrey Rowell, The Liturgy of Christian Burial: An Introductory Survey of the Historical Development of Christian Burial Rites (London, 1977), and more specifically on the Mass for the dead, RJ Edmund Boggis, Praying for the Dead: An Historical Review of the Practice (London, 1913). Rowell; Boggis; Binski, Medieval Death, 52-55; Charlotte Stanford, “Held in “Perpetual” Memory: Funerals and Commemoration of the Elite Dead in the Late Middle Ages,” Interculture vol. 2, no. 2 (2005). Roger S Wieck, in Painted Prayers: The Book of Hours in Medieval and Renaissance Art (New York, 1997) and Time Sanctified: The Book of Hours in Medieval Art and Life (New York, 1988), gathered together illuminations of the Office for the Dead that add to our knowledge of the performative aspects of the liturgy. Daniell, chapter two, provides an overview of ritual specific to late medieval England. On English ecclesiastical funerals, see D Lepine, “'High Solemn Ceremonies': The Funerary Practice of the Late Medieval English Higher Clergy,” Journal of Ecclesiastical History 61 (Jan. 2010), 18-39. M. McLaughlin, Consorting with Saints: Prayer for the Dead in Early Medieval France (Ithaca, 1994); P. Geary, Phantoms of Remembrance: Memory and Oblivion at the End of the First Millennium (Princeton, 1994); Otto Gerhard Oexle, “Memoria und Memorialbild,” Memoria: Der Geschichtliche Zeugniswert des liturgischen Gedankens im Mittelalter, eds. Schmid and Wollasch (Munich, 1984), 384-440. Studies more specific to English practice include David Rollason, AJ Piper, Margaret Harvey, Lynda Rollason, eds., The Durham Liber Vitae and its Context (Woodbridge, 2004); W de G Birch, Liber Vitae (Hampshire Record Society, 1892); S Keynes, The Liber Vitae of the New Minster and Hyde Abbey, Winchester, BL Stowe 944, Early English Manuscripts in Facsimile, vol. 26 (Copenhagen, 1996); E Briggs, “Religion, Society, and Politics, and the Liber Vitae of Durham,” PhD dissertation, Leeds, 1987. For a recent study of an English monastic cathedral in the later Middle Ages, see Meriel Connor, “Fifteenth-Century Monastic Obituaries: The Evidence of Christ Church Priory, Canterbury,” Memory and Commemoration in Medieval England, eds. Caroline Barron and Clive Burgess (Donington, 2010), 143-58. For the institution of the chantry in England, see Clive Burgess, “'For the Increase of Divine Service': Chantries in the Parish in late Medieval Bristol,” Journal of Ecclesiastical History 36 (1985), 46-65; ibid., “Strategies for Eternity: Perpetual Chantry Foundation in Late Medieval Bristol,” Religious Belief and Ecclesiastical Careers in Late Medieval England, Christopher Harper-Bill, ed. (Woodbridge, 1991); K Wood-Legh, Perpetual Chantries in Britain (Cambridge, 1965); A Kreider, English Chantries: the Road to Dissolution (Cambridge, MA, 1979); Howard Colvin, “The Origin of Chantries,” Journal of Medieval History, vol. 26, no. 2 (2000), 163-173; David Crouch, “The Origin of Chantries: Some Further Anglo-Norman Evidence,” Journal of Medieval History, vol. 27 (2001), 15980. For the chapels, see most recently Simon Roffey, Chantry Chapels and Medieval Strategies of the

5 To my knowledge, however, a full study of later medieval commemorative ritual has not been undertaken, and its application to art history has been limited.11 The architectural and sculptural monument which marked the site of the body is the domain of art historians. Acknowledgment of the medieval funerary monument as an art form worthy of serious study only occurred in the early twentieth century. Seventeenth-, eighteenth-, and nineteenth-century studies of medieval churches proudly presented the monuments as prestigious markers of an illustrious past. Descriptive guides to churches tended briefly to highlight memorials only if their occupants conferred prestige on the institution; authors concentrated on history and biography rather than on imagery and purpose. Many of these do not even include written descriptions of the memorials. Richard Gough’s multi-volume work on sepulchral monuments in Great Britain, which appeared in the late eighteenth century, marked a significant step in the study of tombs through compiling written descriptions and engraved plates of a wide selection of English medieval monuments.12 A small number of formal studies identify patterns of development among funeral

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Afterlife (Oxford, 2008) and ibid., The Medieval Chantry Chapel: An Archaeology (Woodbridge, 2007). In addition to the studies of chantries, there are a few exceptions: Charlotte Stanford, “The Body at the Funeral: Imagery and Commemoration at Notre-dame, Paris, about 1304-18,” Art Bulletin 89 (2007), 657-73, Wieck 's studies of manuscript illuminations, as in n. 8; Geraldine A Johnson, “Activating the Effigy: Donatello's Pecci Tomb in Siena Cathedral,” Memory and the Medieval Tomb, 99-127; Clive Burgess, “A Service for the Dead, the Form and Function of the Anniversary in Late Medieval Bristol,” Transactions of the Bristol and Gloucestershire Archaeological Society vol. 105 (1987), 183-212; Connor, 143-58. Richard Gough, Sepulchral Monuments in Great Britain (London, 1786, 1796, 1799). Although Gough’s work represents one of the earliest attempts to make sense of the large number and wide variety of late medieval monuments, it is not without its faults. Both his text and images suffer in places from inaccuracy and from the lack of an adequate vocabulary and knowledge base for evaluating medieval art. For modern scholars, it remains an invaluable repository of information, particularly about tombs that have since been destroyed.

6 monuments.13 They survey a wide geographical, temporal, social and formal sampling of tombs, and document broad trends in design of commemorative monuments. These help place western medieval tombs in greater context, and Panofsky's observation that medieval tombs exhibit a “prospective” quality that differentiates them from the more heavily biographical or “retrospective” tombs that both preceded and would follow the Middle Ages is one result of such comparisons.14 By their very nature, however, overviews of this scope cannot address in detail the appearance of specific forms or their circumstances of production, and monument production across Europe was so varied that providing a tidy summation of development oversimplifies the issue. Early art historical studies that focus on English tombs used the evidence the tombs provided, in the absence of much other major figure sculpture in England from the period, to establish a basic chronology of sculptural styles.15 These studies assessed aesthetic and technical qualities, constructed a typology of forms, categorized motifs, established stylistic context, and attributed forms to sculptural schools. Generally organized chronologically and by region or material, these studies focus on stylistic aspects of individual motifs: the effigy; associated figures of angels, family members, 13

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Erwin Panofsky, Tomb Sculpture: Four Lectures on Its Changing Aspects from Ancient Egypt to Bernini (New York, 1964), and, in greater detail because narrowed to the medieval period, Kurt Bauch, Das mittelalterliche Grabbild: Figürliche Grabmäler des 11. bis 15. Jahrhunderts in Europa (Berlin, 1976). Georgia Sommers summarized development of French tombs in “Royal Tombs at St-Denis in the Reign of St. Louis” (Columbia, PhD dissertation, 1966). In addition to formal surveys, there are surveys of iconographical motifs, such as that by Henriette s’Jacob, Idealism and Realism: A Study of Sepulchral Symbolism (Leiden, 1954), though her scope extends beyond the medieval period. Panofsky, 39. Tomb sculpture comprises a large percentage of the surviving medieval figural sculpture in England. See Edward Prior and Arthur Gardner, An Account of Medieval Figure Sculpture in England (Cambridge, 1912); Arthur Gardner, English Medieval Sculpture (Cambridge, 1951); and Lawrence Stone, Sculpture in Britain: The Middle Ages (Harmondsworth, 1972). HA Tummers, Early Secular Effigies in England: The Thirteenth Century (Leiden, 1980), is narrowed in scope to English secular tombs of the thirteenth century, and represents an important compilation of the sculptural evidence. However, his discussion is largely limited to motifs (clothing, pillow, angels, etc) rather than context.

7 etc.; foliage; and/or the architectural features found in the canopy above. Frequently this methodology tends to fragment our understanding of the monument by examining each feature independently of its surrounding sculpture and overall physical context. Such studies help illuminate formal trends in sculptural output, but they seem to stem from an underlying assumption that the medieval tomb evolved as a natural course of sculptural development, generated independently of influence from social, political, or religious contexts. In concert with the proliferation of studies of the dead in the middle ages among historians, and the broad historiographical shift from style to context in the field of art history, the medieval tomb has been more adequately explored in the last twenty years as an important physical nexus of the relationship between the living and the dead. These recent approaches eschew broad surveys and give each tomb the contextual analysis that it deserves, paralleling methodological trends in the broader field of art history that demand a closer look at the concerns of the patron, circumstances of production, social customs of the day, and relationship of object to viewer. Often these newer studies focus on a single tomb, or on a group of tombs of the same formal type or belonging to patrons of the same socially defined group.16 Authors discuss issues of patronage, explore various 16

Studies on tombs of specific groups of patrons such as kings, queens, knights and nobility include Clare Richter Sherman, The Portraits of Charles V of France, 1338-1380 (New York, 1969), 65-71; Alain Erlande-Brandenberg, Le roi est mort: étude sur les funérailles, les sépultures et les tombeaux des rois de France jusqu'à la fin du XIIIe siècle (Geneva, 1975); Rachel Dressler, Of Armor and Men in Medieval England: the Chivalric Rhetoric of Three English Knights’ Effigies (Burlington, VT, 2004); Anne Morganstern, Gothic Tombs of Kinship in France, the Low Countries, and England (University Park, Pennsylvania, 2000); Kathleen Nolan, Queens in Stone and Silver: The Creation of a Visual Imagery of Queenship in Capetian France (New York, 2009). Studies based on formal type include LL Gee, “'Ciborium' Tombs in England 1290-1330,” JBAA 132 (1979), 29-41; Anne Morganstern, “Liturgical and Honorific Implications of the Placement of Gothic Wall Tombs,” Hortus Artium Medievalium: Journal of the International Research Center for Late Antiquity and the Middle Ages 10 (2004), 81-96.

8 interpretations of iconography, and bring to light important documentary sources. The result is that in recent decades, tombs have been considered as carefully constructed social statements, presenting the deceased to a living audience in the way in which he/she would want to be seen by other members of society. Focus generally has been on late medieval tombs of the laity, and investigations have been irresistibly drawn to the visual evidence tombs provide of familial connections, political associations, social standing, and other displays of the worldly status of the deceased. Heraldic imagery sculpted and painted on the tombs is an undeniable marker of illustrious ancestry, and it has been demonstrated that ancillary figures depicted in addition to the main effigy on tombs of the nobility represent family members or political and social associates.17 An effigy’s clothing, whether armor, liturgical vestments, or secular robes, provides a biographical aspect in tomb imagery indicating participation in and attainment of a certain rank of society.18 A few studies have looked specifically at the creation process, including motivation for and choice of burial imagery.19 These, too, are focused on late medieval tombs of secular patrons, with the result that expressing lineage, political associations, and social status emerge as prime motivations behind choice of imagery. In a slightly different vein, but still addressing issues of self-representation, are the studies by Dale and Perkinson that place the effigy into the broader discourse of the

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Morganstern, Gothic Tombs of Kinship. Dressler's study on tombs of knights, for example, sees in them the social encoding of a certain class, embodying concepts of chivalric display and of masculine virility: Dressler, Of Armor and Men. Brian and Moira Gittos, “Motivation and Choice: The Selection of Medieval Secular Effigies,” Heraldry, Pageantry and Social Display in Medieval England, Coss and Keen, eds. (2002), 143-67; Nigel Saul, “Bold as Brass: Secular Display in English Medieval Effigies,” Heraldry, Pageantry, and Social Display, 169-94. A new book Monumental Industry: The Production of Tomb Monuments in England and Wales in the Long Fourteenth Century, Sally Badham and Sophie Oosterwijk, eds. (Donington, 2010) promises workshop-driven analyses of tomb design and production.

9 medieval concept of individuality and artistic representation of self.20 Effigies are discussed alongside other modes of self-presentation in which an image of the individual (seals, coins, donor portraits, etc.) is a means to constructing or presenting a desired view of 'self'. Another recent line of inquiry addresses the interactive potential of medieval burial monuments as a method of perpetuating memory. Two collections of studies address the ways in which a monument might create an active dialogue between viewer and deceased by means of affective imagery and the physical experience of the object.21 Generally these investigations take the form of a case study of an individual monument and its suggested audience, and represent three major avenues of thinking about the role of the tomb, including perpetuating personal memory by affecting the viewer emotionally,22 shaping communal or institutional memory,23 and as having a religious 20

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Thomas Dale, “The Individual, the Resurrected Body, and Romanesque Portraiture: The Tomb of Rudolf von Schwaben in Merseburg,” Speculum 77 (2002), 707-43; Joan Holladay, “Portrait Elements in Tomb Sculpture: Identification and Iconography,” Europaische Kunst um 1300, Gerhard Schmidt, ed. (Vienna, 1986), 217-21; Binski, Medieval Death, 92-112. More generally, Gesta 46/2 (2007) was a special issue devoted to the medieval face in the wake of the exhibition and colloquium at the Metropolitan Museum of Art in 2006 on the same topic. Essays pertaining to the current study include the following: Thomas Dale, “Romanesque Sculpted Portraits: Convention, Vision, and Real Presence”; Stephen Perkinson, “Rethinking the Origins of Portraiture”; Julian Gardner, “Stone Saints: Commemoration and Likeness in Thirteenth-Century Italy, France and Spain.” See also Perkinson, The Likeness of the King: A Prehistory of Portraiture in Late Medieval France (Chicago, 2009). Nolan's comparison of queen's effigies to their seals is also very much about using imagery of the body to construct/express identity. Elizabeth Valdez del Alamo and Carol Stamatis Pendergast, eds., Memory and the Medieval Tomb (Brookfield, VT, 2000); Stephen Lamia and Elizabeth Valdez del Alamo, eds., Decorations for the Holy Dead: Visual Embellishments on Tombs and Shrines of Saints (Turnhout, 2002). Binski, Medieval Death, 71-2, stated that Panofsky's focus on sculptural form and iconography meant that he neglected the important role the tomb played in what Binski called a “system of mutual obligation” between the living and the dead. For example, Elizabeth Valdez del Alamo, “Lament for a Lost Queen: The Sarcophagus of Dona Blanca in Najera,” Memory and the Medieval Tomb, 43-79. Philip Lindley, “Retrospective Effigies, the Past and Lies,” Medieval Art, Architecture and Archaeology at Hereford (London, 1995), 111-21; Rocio Sanchez Ameijeiras “Monumenta et Memoriae: The Thirteenth-century Episcopal Pantheon at Léon Cathedral,” Memory and the Medieval Tomb,” 269-99; Kathleen Nolan, “The Queen's Body and Institutional Memory: The Tomb of Adelaide of Maurienne,”

10 function in inspiring the viewer to pray for the dead.24 Studies in the latter category are particularly encouraging in their recognition of the religious context in which a tomb was placed. There is still much to add to the study of medieval tombs. As the preceding discussion states, art historical scholarship has largely been drawn to monuments constructed for or by leading members of secular society. Tombs of the nobility, of royalty, and of knights have all received major study, while, with the exception of a few studies, ecclesiastical monuments have largely been ignored.25 This is perhaps due to a certain post-medieval western discomfort with the bishop’s position, which bridged the sacred and secular arenas.26 At the same time that bishops were meant to lead their diocese in spiritual conduct by example, they were also expected to be effective 24

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Memory and the Medieval Tomb, 249-67. Geraldine Johnson, “Activating the Effigy,” Memory and the Medieval Tomb, 99-127; Morganstern, “The Tomb as Prompter for the Chantry: Four Examples from Late Medieval England,” Memory and the Medieval Tomb, 81-97. On later medieval incised slabs and brasses, see Sally Badham, “Status and Salvation: The Design of Medieval English Brasses and Incised Slabs,” Transactions of the Monumental Brass Society 15:5 (1996), 412-65; Jerome Bertram, “Orate pro anima: Some Aspects of Medieval Devotion Illustrated on Brasses,” Transactions of the Monumental Brass Society 13:4 (1983), 321-41; H.K. Cameron, “The Incised Memorial as part of the Obsequies for the Dead: French Faith and Tournai Wills,” Transactions of the Monumental Brass Society 13:5 (1984), 410-23. The religious function is noted more by those who study brasses rather than those who study effigies. Admirable focused studies include Marion Roberts, “The Tomb of Giles de Bridport in Salisbury Cathedral,” Art Bulletin 65:4 (Dec 1983), 559-86; ibid., “The Effigy of Bishop Hugh de Northwold in Ely Cathedral,” Burlington Magazine (Feb. 1988), 77-84; Julian Gardner, “The Tomb of Bishop Peter of Aquablanca in Hereford Cathedral,” Medieval Art, Architecture, and Archaeology at Hereford (London, 1995). A study of the tombs of the archbishops at Canterbury was carried out by Wilson, “The Medieval Monuments,” A History of Canterbury Cathedral, Collinson et al, eds. (Oxford, 1995), 451510. Nicholas Rogers, “English Episcopal Monuments, 1270-1350,” The Earliest English Brasses: Patronage, Style and Workshops 1270-1350, ed. John Coales (London, 1987), 8-68, concentrates on early episcopal brasses. More recently, Nigel Saul, English Church Monuments in the Middle Ages: History and Representation (Oxford, 2009), devoted a chapter to ecclesiastical monuments. The complexity of the roles of bishops in medieval society is addressed in two recent major collections of essays in the face of a somewhat polarized body of past scholarship: Sean Gilsdorf, ed., The Bishop: Power and Piety at the first Millenium (Munster, 2004) and John S Ott and Anna Trumbore, eds., The Bishop Reformed: Studies of Episcopal Power and Culture in the Central Middle Ages (Burlington, VT, 2007). Both of these studies focus on the central Middle Ages. Binski, Becket's Crown: Art and Imagination in Gothic England 1170-1300 (New Haven, 2004), xiii, noted that the topic of religion had only experienced a revival of interest among medievalists in the decade prior to his book.

11 administrators, and were usually quite wealthy, descended from great families, and held important posts in the secular hierarchy, often in service to the king. Bishops have also suffered from the historiographical trend to move away from examining the medieval elite in favor of members of society more marginally represented in art and text. The experiences of nuns, monks, hermits, mendicants, and others have received more attention recently than bishops, who in the past have figured prominently in histories of the period as shapers of policy and politics due to their highly public and influential positions. Once such central figures, historiographically speaking, bishops have been in their turn marginalized.27 Episcopus, an informal group of medieval scholars (mostly historians) working on episcopal matters, was recently formed to foster intellectual exchange on the multifarious roles of bishops and secular clergy in the medieval west. Another related historiographical trend has led away from investigating issues of religious orthodoxy and church doctrine, the province of bishops and abbots, to exploring more varied, multi-sensory experiences of the spiritual, experiences which often were shared by people not in positions of leadership. The work of Jeffrey Hamburger and others on female spirituality has been a fruitful avenue of exploration in this regard.28 Indeed, medieval bishops' depth of spirituality has often been questioned. Their reputations varied, from not being at all spiritual (particularly those who rose through the ranks of royal administration), to maintaining orthodoxy and policy, to initiating reform 27 28

Ott and Jones, The Bishop Reformed, 1-20. Hamburger, The Visual and the Visionary: Art and Female Spirituality in Late Medieval Germany (New York, 1998); ibid., Nuns as Artists: The Visual Culture of a Medieval Convent (Berkeley-Los Angeles, 1996); Crown and Veil: Female Monasticism from the Fifth to the Fifteenth Centuries, eds. Hamburger and Marti (New York: Columbia University Press, 2008).

12 in the church, and even to being worthy of canonization. Paul Binski's Becket's Crown is the only recent art historical study to delve deeply into the spiritual and intellectual leanings of English thirteenth century bishops.29 At the same time that studies of spirituality and its artistic expression have soared, the religious aspects of tomb design have largely been ignored.30 The methods of commemoration chosen by ecclesiastical figures, and the possibility of their having arisen from religious motivations, are overlooked or avoided. Raised, figural, and frequently sumptuous monuments are interpreted as showy, as arising out of secular motivations. Studies emphasizing evidence such as clothing and heraldry on tombs lead the reader to believe that publicly proclaiming the deceased’s worldly status was the most important factor in the design process of a commemorative monument. The predominance of imagery illustrating status was also recognized by Sally Badham, although hers is a rare study that proposed that tombs balanced displaying status with methods to obtain salvation of the soul.31 As a result of our reluctance to discuss them, high-ranking clergy have not been acknowledged as major contributors to the development of tomb design.32 Yet in England, the ecclesiastical elite were the first to exhibit and foster the imagery of the 29

30

31

32

Binski is interested in the leading agency of the ecclesiastic as patron of the arts, and the impact of intellect and theory on form and styles chosen. He did not, however, discuss their patronage of tombs. Except those studies in note 25, which, however, tend to be for tombs that date later than the tombs under consideration here. Badham, “Status and Salvation.” Although she gives equal time to both aspects of function and imagery, she noted that status is the most prominent aspect of the imagery, and that it has received the most attention in scholarship. See also Saul, “Bold as Brass,” and English Church Monuments, for recent balanced views of English tombs. It is mentioned briefly by Binski, Medieval Death, 94. Rogers, “English Episcopal Monuments,” openly expressed the formative role of bishops in tomb design, but as his study focuses on production and design of monumental brasses, he only discussed three-dimensional tombs in terms of their influence on the development of brasses.

13 sculptured effigy, one of the more innovative aspects of late medieval tombs. My analysis of episcopal tombs demonstrates that of those bishops who died between 1150 and 1300, and for whom we have some idea of the form their tomb took based on surviving monuments or on documentary evidence, a high percentage of bishops chose effigies over other forms.33 This was especially so at certain cathedrals, for example, Ely, Exeter, Rochester, Salisbury, and Worcester, where counts of effigies compared to other forms of funerary monuments are particularly high.34 Additionally, a comparison of ecclesiastical tombs to secular tomb production reveals that ecclesiastical tombs with effigies appeared earlier than similar tombs for the laity in England. The trend set by the higher clergy was adopted by the royalty, gentry and nobility later in the thirteenth century, but for approximately 80 years previously, effigies had been commissioned most enthusiastically—indeed, almost exclusively—by the clergy. The emergence of the effigy as an option for personal display is itself an important issue which has suffered from lack of consideration, despite its pertinence to greater discussions of medieval self-definition and commemorative strategies. In 1981, Alain Erlande-Brandenberg noted that among the many questions surrounding medieval tombs, that of the origin of the motif of the effigy had not found a satisfying answer.35

33

34

35

Taking into account twelve cathedral churches that are represented in the catalogue, there are 30 effigies (or probable effigies) out of 48 episcopal tombs between years of 1150-1300 for which we have some idea of form (this count does not include London, Durham, Chichester, or Norwich, nor does it include brass slabs; I am interested only in effigies in relief, as the earliest consistent manifestation of this idea). At Rochester, we know the form of five episcopal tombs between 1150-1300, four of which had effigies; at Salisbury, we know the form of ten episcopal tombs, of which seven were effigies; at Worcester, we know the form of three tombs, all of which are effigies; at Exeter, we know the form of five episcopal tombs, four of which are effigies; Ely has three effigial tombs. Erlande-Brandenberg, “Un gisant royal du milieu du XIIe siècle, provenant de Saint-Germain-des-Pres, à Paris,” Bulletin archéologique du CTHS, nouv. ser., fasc 15 A (Paris, 1981), 33-50. Speaking more to the origin of the three-dimensional format of the effigy than to the imagery of the deceased, he

14 The question still stands, although a dissertation recently completed as of this writing may address this issue in relation to the earliest-known medieval effigies in the Holy Roman Empire.36 It has been suggested that the formal inspirations for the effigy derived from (or perhaps even were direct continuations from) pre-existing artistic representations of the deceased in funerary contexts, such as on Early Christian mosaic tomb slabs found in northern Africa, or on Etruscan and Roman tombs.37 Evidence for the continuation of use of the funerary effigy, in two- or three-dimensional forms, is slim to non-existent. The best known (quite possibly the only known) early medieval example of a tomb lid adorned with an effigy of the deceased in northern Europe is the eighth-century stone sarcophagus cover incised for Chrodoara in the church of St-Georges, Amay (Belgium), found near Liège in 1978.38 The lid portrays her standing frontally with her eyes open, holding the staff of an abbess, and includes an identifying inscription above her head and

36 37

38

observed, at least in the twelfth-century stone effigies at Fontevrault, a similarity in style and technique to smaller-scale reliefs made in contemporary metalwork. That the question had not been adequately addressed was also noted by Wilson, “Medieval Monuments,” n. 30. Dale, “The Individual, the Resurrected Body,” writing on the effigy of Rudolf of Swabia, the earliest-known medieval effigy, did not address the issue of the form's origin. Shirin Fozi, working under Jeffrey Hamburger at Harvard; dissertation not available as of this writing. Panofsky, 49-53 and figs. 175, 177, on early Christian images of the deceased in mosaic from North Africa and its early manifestations in northern Europe. He suggested that the imagery shown on several of the North African mosaics—a full-length, frontal praying figure (orant) accompanied by other references to Paradise (rich foliage, birds, etc)—may have been transmitted to the European continent through Spain. See also Noel Duval, La mosaïque funéraire dans l'art Paleochretien (Ravenna, n. d. (after 1975)), discussing finds in Algeria and Tunisia. Bauch, chapter two, sees the effigy as deriving ultimately from reclining figures on Etruscan and Roman tombs found in the region of Rome. Denise Jalabert took the motif further back to some fourth-century BC three-dimensional effigies found in Carthage that are recumbent, alive, with eyes open, arms active, feet on a plinth, and look like they are standing: “Le tombeau gothique, recherches sur l'origine de ces divers elements,” La Revue de l'Art LXIV, no. 349 (Dec. 1933), 159-66. Chrodoara was probably the founder of the monastery of Amay and died c.634. The trapezoidal sarcophagus was raised above the floor and had sculpture all around. An epitaph is at the head. The eighth-century lid may have been fashioned following her canonization: Erlande-Brandenberg, “Un gisant royal,” 34; Nancy Gautier, “Une Grande Dame, Chrodoara d'Amay,” Antiquité tardive, vol. 2 (1994), 251-61 for discussion and earlier bibliography.

15 decorative patterns below her feet. On this exciting but not exactly conclusive find rests the bulk of the argument for the continued use of the funerary effigy between Roman rule and the turn of the twelfth century. The possibility that effigies stemmed from a resurgence of artists' and patrons' interest in classical and early Christian sources, the so-called twelfth-century renaissance, still does not explain why this particular motif came to be considered an appropriate choice for funerary imagery at that time, centuries after its previous appearance.39 The vigor with which tomb effigies were commissioned is not simply a result of formal development, as if this were an inexorable progression independent of outside influence, but arose from a specific set of conditions, intellectual, cultural, and artistic, which made this form more appropriate than other formal and iconographical choices. This study does not set out to explain the origin of the effigy, but it does address the issue partially by examining the circumstances under which effigies first appeared in England.

The present study assesses the choices for tomb design and placement made by a specific group of patrons, the ecclesiastical elite, in England, from c.1150-c.1300. How did ecclesiastics go about arranging for a monument? How did the ecclesiastical tomb relate to its physical environment within the church? What was deemed important to

39

Panofksy, 51, proposed that the development of the three-dimensional effigy was part of the general development of three-dimensional figure sculpture in the eleventh and twelfth centuries, and that “in the absence of both a continuous tradition and appropriate models.... it was by translating such portraits as those on the Afro-Iberian mosaic slabs (supplemented, perhaps, by such portraits as were occasionally painted on the wall above a grave) into the language of sculpture... that funerary imagery could be revived within the framework of high medieval civilization.” Nolan, “The Queen's Body,” saw an intentional appropriation of antique imagery in Adelaide of Maurienne's choice of a mosaic effigy for her tomb slab.

16 illustrate about the deceased? What might have been some of the motivations behind the chosen imagery? In what ways did bishops arrange for their own commemoration? What do these early tombs reveal about the perceived needs of the ecclesiastical elite as they neared the point of death? What did they accept as the most efficacious methods to improve their chances of salvation? Grouping the ecclesiastical tombs together reveals certain consistencies in preferences, which help bring to light any special meaning or particular appeal these choices had for ecclesiastical patrons.40 There is some question as to how much we can understand these tombs to be personal expressions of the individual bishops whom they commemorate. An effigial tomb operates on a number of levels, as a statement of episcopal authority that benefits, in addition to the individual bishop, the bishop's family, the broader episcopal office, the local religious community, and the institution of the Church as a whole. It is possible in a number of instances to point to the religious community or to the family as the instigator of a campaign to memorialize an individual. The production of effigies representing French royalty at St-Denis, for example, was the result of decisions made by the monks in the thirteenth century rather than by the individuals commemorated. In England, a number of episcopal effigies at Wells and at Hereford cathedrals were commissioned by

40

Gardner, English Medieval Sculpture, placed together early examples of tombs of bishops and abbots; however, this grouping is a result of his principle of organization by material and in chronological order; he did not seek to explain the appearance of the motifs as a product of a specific type of patronage. Peter Brieger, English Art 1216-1307 (Oxford, 1957), noted that bishops were the first to have effigies, but their tombs are given little treatment in his book. Anne Morganstern, “Liturgical and Honorific Implications,” began her essay with several examples of early niche tombs with effigies belonging to bishops in France, but the study is chiefly interested in the development of the wall niche rather than the raised tomb chest with effigy. Also, patronage is not a specific concern in this essay. Rogers’s study, “English Episcopal Monuments,” is the only one to devote considerable importance to tombs of bishops and abbots, putting emphasis on the clergy as not only active patrons but also as innovators in style.

17 the local cathedral community rather than by the individual or by an executor tasked with carrying out the individual's wishes. Even when it is possible to identify an executor's hand, the fidelity of the executor's actions to the wishes of the departed can be questioned.41 Without documentary evidence to clarify the process of commissioning a monument in the twelfth and thirteenth centuries, any statement about a patron's desires must be made with caution. However, while tombs certainly can—and often should—be read as responding to certain needs of others, an effigial tomb is no less resonant for the individual it commemorates. The imagery that was chosen to represent bishops, and which was perpetuated through convention over time, must have fulfilled functions for both institution and individual. While I plan to examine the relationship between the ecclesiastical effigial tomb and the larger social contexts of family and religious institution at a later date, the focus of this study is on the ways in which the effigial tomb may have suited the needs of the individual whom the tomb commemorated. It addresses the needs of the community as a whole only in so far as these intersect with the needs of the bishop who is being memorialized.42 Bishops and abbots, in their roles as church leaders, were steeped in Church doctrine of the afterlife and resurrection, and highly concerned with the prospect of achieving salvation. These tombs, the visual results of complex procedures designed to benefit the soul, merit investigation as a means to

41 42

See, for example, J Gardner, “The Tomb of Bishop Peter of Aquablanca.” S Badham, “Status and Salvation,” also looked at how the “patrons' priorities for commemoration influenced the imagery of late medieval tomb design.” See also the essays on the creation process and patrons' motivations for choice of funerary monument by Brian and Moira Gittos, “Motivation and Choice,” and Nigel Saul, “Bold as Brass.” These latter recognize that the artist may have had as much, maybe even more, to do with the final form than the individual who was to be commemorated.

18 salvation. Chapter 1 surveys the custom of episcopal burial in England in the centuries leading up to the appearance of the effigy in the twelfth century. It discusses traditions of placement and form, and serves to highlight just how innovative the imagery of the effigy was by suggesting that it had no direct artistic precedent in the medieval English commemorative tradition. The chapter also demonstrates that ecclesiastical leaders from an early date enjoyed a prestigious position within the religious community after death as well as before. Chapter 2 investigates the early stages of the trend towards self-representation on a monument by assessing the formal development of the ecclesiastical effigial tomb in England. It demonstrates that high-ranking clergy were among the first to introduce and foster the imagery of the effigy in England, taking their cues from earlier examples known from the continent. However, brief comparison with other tombs in northern France and Germany show that English tombs experienced a sort of insularity in design, exhibiting a relatively limited range of forms. The chapter also highlights some onceimportant but now often overlooked aspects of design, namely painted decoration and inscriptions. Chapter 3 discusses the ecclesiastical tomb in its physical and social environment. It considers the actual process of arranging for a tomb to be built in a church: the what, the where, and the how. It recognizes that the tomb is not created independently of the community with which it is housed, and assesses the needs of the community as well as the patron in placing a monument within the church.

19 Chapter 4 outlines the ways in which the clergy prepared for their death by arranging for commemorative rituals to be carried out after the burial. While the liturgy of burial is well known, the process of ongoing commemoration of a religious leader by his community has not been adequately studied. This analysis is necessary in order to correlate the individuals’ concerns for the soul with provisions made for the body, and to identify links between visual memorialization and religious practice, i.e. the integration of tomb and ritual. Chapter 5 addresses the preference for an image of self on the monument. What information do effigies convey? What was an effigy meant to signify? How might the form have been useful to the individual it was meant to commemorate? In part an iconographical study, the chapter also relates the depiction of the body to theories current among church intellectuals about death, burial, and the afterlife in an attempt to explain the meaning behind and the ultimate preference for this commemorative format among the ecclesiastical elite. Appendix I-III: A major contribution of this dissertation is to provide a descriptive inventory of the surviving ecclesiastical tombs from this period as a basis for further interpretation. 43 The catalogue in Appendix I provides a written description of each known episcopal effigial monument surviving in England, and includes a discussion of the monument's original placement (if known), subsequent alterations or relocations, and the name of its supposed occupant (if known). The study brings together relevant 43

My study omits the tombs of bishops who chose to be commemorated by a monumental brass. The use of flat brass markers began c.1270 and continued alongside three-dimensional carved tombs of the type under consideration in this study. See Rogers, “English Episcopal Monuments,” for a study of early episcopal brasses.

20 documentary sources such as wills, fabric rolls, or bishops’ registers, as well as a substantial research into archives of notes and drawings collected by antiquaries in the seventeenth, eighteenth and nineteenth centuries and information from related early publications. Appendix II contains similar information for a number of effigial tombs of abbots, priors, deacons, and priests. Appendix III is a list of ecclesiastical tombs known or suspected to have had effigies but which no longer survive. ** Most catalogue items have one or more images associated with them. In the chapters, when I refer to a catalogue entry and its associated image(s), I use the format Cat. XX. Any additional figures discussed in the text will be referred to as Fig. XX; these additional images follow the catalogue images at the end of the study. My study suggests that the effigy and its attendant manner of display suited a specific set of needs/beliefs current to high-ranking ecclesiastics in England in the twelfth and thirteenth centuries. Specific choices were made which were thought to help negotiate the anxiety-ridden transition between life and death, in the promise of resurrection and hope for salvation. The tombs had a function, a purpose, for the patron. In thinking about the advantages that tomb imagery and placement were thought to provide, and the ways in which these dovetailed with commemorative ritual at the time, it appears that self-representation (one could even say self-promotion) had multiple functions, among them to promote remembrance, both personal and communal, to express one's belief in the doctrine of resurrection, and to aid one's progress to salvation (in part through fostering remembrance in the form of ongoing responses to the tomb). In my attempt to answer questions about the early English ecclesiastical monuments, I have

21 found that emphasis should be shifted onto the salvific aspect of a tomb, which in many cases has been diminished by studies that focus on expression of social display and personal remembrance, in other words on the 'this-world' aspects of the tomb. I do not wish to exclude or downplay the social significance of the tomb; rather, I hope to add a further, spiritual, dimension. Indeed, as I conclude, social stature, identity, memory, and viewer interaction all play a part together in the larger scheme of salvific goals; the social and the salvific are not divisible. The medieval tomb had twin goals of remembrance and redemption.

22 Chapter 1: Christian Bodies and Ecclesiastical Church Burial in England, Fourth to Twelfth Centuries

This chapter begins with a brief background of early practices of honoring the deceased body in the Christian tradition, with special reference to Britain in the Roman and early medieval periods. It then addresses the placement and form of the monuments chosen for or by early medieval prelates, leading into the twelfth century. A combination of literary and artistic evidence demonstrates that, from an earlier point in time than is generally recognized, episcopal burials in England were marked by a raised and visible tomb structure.

Honoring the dead in sacred space: the impact of the cult of saints With its promise of resurrection and everlasting life after death, Christianity transcended the abhorrence of the dead body that was typical of classical Greco-Roman culture. Roman law prohibited burial within city walls and required disposal of the dead in designated necropolises, usually located along approach roads into the city, such as the Via Appia and Latina into Rome.1 The necropolises, often surrounded by walls, were clearly marked as areas separate from those frequented by the living. Cemeteries were not centers of great activity. Rituals at the tombs were usually small in scale and private, consisting of a funerary service and perhaps a meal shared with the dead on the birthday

1

JMC Toynbee, Death and Burial in the Roman World (Baltimore: Johns Hopkins University Press, 1996), chapter four.

23 of the deceased.2 The Christian cult of saints completely transformed the Roman custom of marginalizing the dead. The dead body, which offered no advantage in Greco-Roman religions, became for Christians a vehicle of access to the divine. Access to the gods in Greco-Roman tradition, petitioning them for intercession, was achieved through making votive offerings at the altar of a temple. Ordinary humans could be venerated as heroes after death, but the heroicized dead had no influence with the gods and the dead played no great role in religious ritual.3 Christians believed, however, that certain humans could achieve instant communication with the divine at death. Saints, those who gave their lives to the faith, were believed to be spiritually in God's presence while their deceased body was very much here on earth.4 The burial sites of saints, therefore, became physical and accessible locations where heaven and earth were thought to meet. The bodies of the Christian saints were venerated by those who sought intercession and who wished to share in the holiness which manifested itself through miracles. This belief had a profound impact on the ritual landscape. Burials, no longer on

2

3

4

There were some exceptions to this typically private activity. Graves of the heroicized dead included permanent funerary altars for sacrificial offerings of animals. In instances of an especially popular hero cult, a sanctuary might be constructed around the grave, as at Verulamium in Roman Britain where a hero tomb to the north of town became the center of a major cult with an extensive sanctuary built of a size that suggests it accommodated large numbers of visitors. See Rosalind Niblett, “Why Verulamium?” Alban and St Albans: Roman and Medieval Architecture, Art and Archaeology, eds. Henig and Lindley (British Archaeological Association, 2001), 1-12. The imagery of ritual sacrifice at the grave, if not the practice itself, made its way into the tombs of ordinary middle and upper class people: see Diana Kleiner, Roman Imperial Funerary Altars with Portraits (Rome: Giorgio Bretschneider Editore, 1987). Peter Brown, The Cult of the Saints: Its Rise and Function in Latin Christianity (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1982), 5-6. St Martin's epitaph (d.397), for example, explicitly states this duality: “Here lies Martin the bishop, of holy memory, whose soul is in the hand of God; but he is fully here, present and made plain in miracles of every kind”: cited in Brown, 4. Brown's book provides the best introduction to the thinking behind the cult of saints. See also Binski, Medieval Death, introduction.

24 the fringes of experience, became central to Christian worship, so much so that Julian the Apostate, ruling after Constantine in the mid-fourth century, complained that Christians had “filled the whole world with tombs and sepulchres.”5 Great churches were built over cemeteries thought to contain graves of martyrs and confessors, the most well-known example perhaps being the old church of St Peter's in Rome, begun by the order of Constantine c.324 over what was thought to be the tomb of St Peter.6 Here, and in most early martyria, the relics of the saint were sited below the altar in a lower confessio or chamber, to which pilgrims were given access by lowering something through a shaft.7 The first sites of veneration, built over the top of the tombs of the martyrs, were located outside the city walls in the cemeteries, but by the fifth century relics of the saints and even whole saints' bodies were being introduced into churches of all types. Roman custom forbade disturbing the dead, but partitioning or moving a saint's body became a significant feature of the cult of saints. The desire to possess a saint's body or a relic from that body soon outweighed any moral concern or tradition about refraining from disturbing the dead. In his writings of the late fourth century, Paulinus of Nola explained that fragmentation of the saints' body extended the benefits of sanctity further afield, and Gregory of Tours' descriptions of pilgrimage confirm that the practice was widespread in the sixth century.8 Ambrose, archbishop of Milan, adopted the practice as early as 386

5 6

7 8

Cited in P Brown, 7. See Andre Grabar, Martyrium: Recherches sur le culte des reliques et l'art chretien antique (London: Variorum Reprints, 1972), vol. I, on the building up of sanctuaries around the saints. A comprehensive study of shrine settings is provided by John Crook, The Architectural Setting of the Cult of Saints in the Early Christian West, c.300-1200 (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 2000). On St Peter’s, see E. Kirschbaum, The Tombs of St Peter and St Paul (London: Secker and Warburg, 1959), and R. Krautheimer, Rome: Profile of a City 312-1303 (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1980). Crook, Cult of Saints, chapter 2, gives examples of such arrangements up to c.750. Gregory of Tours, The History of the Franks, trans. Lewis Thorpe (London: Penguin Books, 1974). For

25 when he exhumed the bodies of Protasius and Gervasius from a cemetery and moved them into his cathedral near the altar.9 The 'special dead' were brought to churches all over Europe, both extramural and intramural.10 The Roman geographical division between the living and the dead, already compromised by the cult of saints, experienced further disintegration when the Roman system of government collapsed in the early fifth century. Prosperous urban life could no longer be maintained, and the distinction between urban and rural began to disintegrate.11 In some cases, towns were reoriented around the martyrium that had formerly been outside the walls. At St Albans/Verulamium in England, the medieval town grew up on the north side of the church dedicated to St Albans and the Roman town across the river Ver to the southwest was abandoned.12 In Europe, the formerly extramural churches near Xanten, Bonn, and Tours were incorporated within the town limits as the cities reoriented around the religious focal points.13 Seats of power shifted so that the once-marginal martyria became more influential than the urban centers that had been the seats of power in the Roman empire. The bishop of Rome re-sited his administration from the Lateran

9 10

11 12 13

Paulinus, see Crook, Cult of Saints, 20-25, where he also discussed Roman distaste for the idea. Gregory I often wrote against the practice. On relics see also P. J. Geary, Furta Sacra: Thefts of Relics in the Central Middle Ages (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1978) and GJC Snoek, Medieval Piety from Relics to the Eucharist (Leiden: EJ Brill, 1995), chapter 1. P Brown, 36-7; Crook, Cult of Saints, 19. Crook, Cult of Saints, 44-7, cites an example of a full-body shrine in the city of Rome dating to the fourth century, though he points out that it is an unusually early case. Ariès, 36-40, noted the example of Saint Vaast, bishop of Arras, whose body was interred in the cathedral in 540; this appears to have been a standard practice by this date. Crook stated that moving bodies was more common in Gaul than in Rome, which only moved the bodies of some of its saints inside the city walls in the seventh century in response to dangerous conditions outside the towns. The phrase “special dead” was coined by Brown. S E Cleary, “Town and Country in Roman Britain?” Death in Towns, 28-42. Niblett, “Why Verulamium?” Martin Biddle, “Archaeology, Architecture, and the Cult of Saints in Anglo-Saxon England,” The Anglo-Saxon Church: Papers on History, Architecture and Archaeology in Honour of Dr H.M. Taylor, eds. LAS Butler and RK Morris, Council for British Archaeology Research Report 60 (London, 1986), 1-5.

26 church intended for this purpose to the church of St Peter's on Vatican Hill, which remains the seat of Papacy today.14

The ordinary dead in sacred space: burial in churches The attention given to the graves and reliquaries of saints was the first step towards granting ordinary individuals the privilege of being buried in a holy sanctuary. Burial ad sanctos, near the saint, was highly desirable. The belief in the efficacy of a saint's powers to aid the ordinary individual demonstrates at an early date the anxiety felt by the dying about the fate of their soul. As early as the second century, Christians sought burial near a saint as a more permanent alternative than pilgrimage for gaining the saint's protection. Burials from the late first and early second century, which were clustered near what is thought to be the grave of St Peter, have been interpreted as the result of the desire to be buried ad sanctos.15 A number of epitaphs on tombstones dated c.400 specify that the deceased chose to be buried next to a saint, and Maximus of Turin wrote c.400 that burial near martyrs would help escape “the shadows of hell—if not by our own merits at least as sharers in holiness.”16 Augustine of Hippo considered the subject c.421 in his De cura pro mortuis gerenda, and reluctantly agreed that burial ad sanctos might benefit the departed because those who recalled the departed's burial place would be more inclined to commend the soul of the departed to the care of the martyr.17 Ambrose

14

15 16 17

On the aspects of power associated with the cult of saints, see Brown, chapter 2, and the study by Barbara Abou-el-Haj, The Medieval Cult of Saints: Formations and Transformations (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1997), chapter 1. Kirschbaum, 83-91, and Crook, Cult of Saints, 14. Transl. by Crook, Cult of Saints, 14, and more fully in Ariès, 33. Crook, Cult of Saints, 15; see also PL 40: 591-610. Augustine admitted, however, that burial near the saint was not necessary in order for a friend to pray to that saint on behalf of the departed.

27 (d.397) believed that his own burial near the bodies of the saints Gervasius and Protasius would aid his soul's progress.18 The transition towards burial of ordinary people inside the church had its opponents. John Chrysostom, an early detractor of the practice, did not agree with honoring the dead in towns, and especially not in a holy place: “Take care that no sepulcher be built in town. What would you do if someone were to leave a corpse in the place where you eat and sleep? And yet you leave the dead not where you eat and sleep but next to the body of Christ…. How can one visit the churches of God, the holy temples, when they are filled with such a terrible odor?”19 Repeated statutes issued by various church councils from the fifth to the thirteenth centuries were concerned with restricting burial within a church. Several decrees forbade lay burial in churches, but this official Church protest to the practice indicates that laymen, at least at the very highest level of patronage, were allowed some burial privileges by the local religious communities.20 Indeed, the Council of Mainz in 813 included 'faithful laity,' a murky term but which generally indicated royalty and other high-level benefactors, among the worthy few who were allowed burial inside a church.21 The decree of the Council of Mainz also expressly allowed ecclesiastical leaders the privilege of burial in a church.

18 19 20

21

Crook, Cult of Saints, 14; see also PL 16: 1296. Cited in Ariès, 30. So the councils of Vaison (442), Nantes (658), and Tribur (895). Restrictions on ecclesiastical burial seem not to have been mentioned. See Ariès, 30 and 46; and Wilson, “Medieval Monuments,” 453, n.8, where he also pointed out the late attempt made in the 1292 Chichester Statutes to restrict lay church burial in England. Ariès, 46; Daniell, 186; Binski, Medieval Death, 72. William of Malmesbury, Gesta Pontificum Anglorum, ed. Winterbottom (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 2007), recounted many examples of lay burial in churches, but most of these have somehow acquired an aura of sanctity. Lay benefactors listed in Bede, Ecclesiastical History of the English People, eds. Colgrave and Mynors (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1969) who were given honorary burial, such as King Oswald, King Edmund, and Ethelbert and Bertha of Kent, were all instrumental in helping early church fathers to spread the word of Christianity.

28 There seems to have been little opposition to interior burials for the higher clergy. The founder of the church of San Vitale at Ravenna ordered an inscription on the bronze doors of the church to state explicitly that only bishops had the right to burial within.22 In the thirteenth century, Durandus of Mende advised against burial within the sanctuary of a church with the important exception of “the bodies of the holy fathers,” a phrase which could mean clergy as well as saints.23

Burial practice in Britain: the breakdown of Roman custom In Britain, burial practices generally followed the same patterns as in Europe. The Roman system of extramural burial was adhered to in Britain under Roman rule, and extramural cemeteries were separated from towns and carefully managed for the orderly disposal of the dead.24 The burial sites of Christian martyrs were given special attention, though few of these early sites of veneration survived the later invasions by the Saxon tribes after the fall of the Roman empire.25 The distinctions between intra- and extramural began to blur in the fifth and sixth centuries, when, at Winchester for example, the 22 23 24

25

Daniell, 186. Cited in Ariès, 46. He was concerned about burial where “the body and blood of our lord are prepared.” Cleary, “Town and Country in Roman Britain?” Archaeological evidence exists for the towns of Gloucester, Colchester, Cirencester, Canterbury, Chichester, Lincoln, London, St Albans, Winchester, and Wroxeter. The hill outside the Roman town of Verulamium on which the monastic church of St Albans was later founded is thought to have been the site of a Roman Christian martyrium dedicated to Alban, an early British martyr for the Christian faith. See M Biddle and B Kjolbye-Biddle, “The Origins of St Albans Abbey: Romano-British Cemetery and Anglo-Saxon Monastery,” Alban and St Albans, 45-77. At the very least, excavations have revealed that it rests above what was a third- and fourth-century RomanoBritish cemetery. No pre-existing churches have yet been found, but the authors suggest that a continuously used cemetery and an early sanctuary might be found further down the hill. Literary evidence for the cult at Verulamium is quite late. As Niblett pointed out, Bede, in the early eighth century, was the first to locate the martyrdom of Alban at Verulamium. David Rollason, Saints and Relics in Anglo-Saxon England (Oxford: Basil Blackwell Ltd, 1989), 15, noted that the cathedral of Wells is sited on a spot known to have been venerated in Roman times. A sunken canopied structure of Roman date he thinks was a martyr's tomb in an extramural cemetery. He suspects that there might be more as yet unknown cases of the continuation of Christian veneration at Romano-British saints cults.

29 population had devolved into a few separate settlements within the walls of what had been a thriving Roman town. Burials appeared within the Winchester city walls from this period, and designation of a dedicated burial ground within the city seems to have occurred by about 673.26 Based on shifts in settlement boundaries at Southampton, evidence shows that the dead were incorporated within what had been the Roman city boundaries between the early eighth and mid-ninth century.27 Certainly by the tenth century, cemeteries associated with parish and cathedral churches had appeared within the walls of many towns.28

Ecclesiastical burials in churches in Britain: location Burial of the ordinary dead within churches seems to have become a regular practice in England by c.600, and the literary evidence indicates that the majority of those buried within the church walls were senior members of the clergy. The missionary-monk Augustine and his companions, who in 597 at the request of Pope Gregory I settled the seat of the archbishopric at Canterbury, maintained the tradition of extramural burial by choosing the monastery of Saints Peter and Paul (later St Augustine's), just outside Canterbury's city wall, as the place of burial for archbishops.29 But the burials, notably, were located within the monastic church, as were the burials of the Kentish secular leaders who helped to establish Augustine's mission in southeast England. The case of 26

27 28

29

B. Kjolbye-Biddle, “Dispersal or Concentration: The Disposal of the Winchester Dead over 2000 Years,” Death in Towns, 210-47. A. Morton, “Burial in Middle Saxon Southampton,” Death in Towns, 68-77. J. Barrow, “Urban Cemetery Location in the High Middle Ages,” Death in Towns, 78-100. At York, several of the parish churches had tenth- and eleventh-century gravestones. Worcester cathedral had complete burial rights in the town as early as 966. At Chester, the burial ground of the collegiate church of St John has Anglo-Saxon and Scandinavian sculptured crosses surviving from the tenth century. Bede, EH, ii.3.

30 Paulinus, first Archbishop of York and afterwards bishop of Rochester, shows that the restrictions on burial in churches within the city could be broken at a very early date. Bede recorded that after Paulinus's death in 644, he “was buried in the chapel of the blessed Apostle St Andrew, which king Ethelbert builded up even from the foundation in the same city of Rochester.”30 William of Malmesbury recounted another early burial within a church, that of Bishop Birinus, who, in the seventh century, was interred “at Dorchester in the church which he had built.”31 The medieval chroniclers occasionally provide more specific information as to the locations of the ecclesiastical burials within the building. Several are noted as having been interred in a porticus, or chapel built off of the main church.32 Bede noted that when Augustine died in 605, his coffin was buried in the north porticus of the abbey church of Saints Peter and Paul when its construction was completed. This porticus acquired a function as a burial chamber for archbishops; Bede also recorded that the next four succeeding archbishops were placed in the same porticus, and two more were placed just outside it due to lack of space.33 Archbishops in the north of England seem to have followed suit. John of Beverley, Archbishop of York, died in 721 and was buried in a

30

31 32

33

Bede, EH, iii.14. Bede's words clearly state that the church was intramural. Colgrave and Mynors, 133, understand Bede's phrase in secretario to mean in the sanctuary, though not all writers used the term similarly. William of Malmesbury, GP, ii.75. This word has been translated variously as porch or chapel. Archaeological reconstructions of foundations of Anglo-Saxon churches show these to be separate rooms off the main body of the church. Given that some seem to have had altars, chapel might be the more accurate translation. Colgrave and Mynors in Bede, EH, 143 consider it a chapel. Bede, EH, ii.3. For archaeology of the site see W. St John Hope, “Recent Discoveries in the Abbey Church of St Austin at Canterbury,” Archaeologia, lxvi, 1915, 386-7. The porticus was off the north side of the nave. Augustine's body stayed there for 500 years until his translation. The possibility exists that the successive archbishops wanted to be buried close to their predecessor whom they may have considered saintly.

31 porticus of St Peter at Beverley Minster.34 Two late seventh-century abbots at Monkwearmouth in Northumberland are said to have been buried in two porticus in the abbey church.35 It is possible that an altar stood in or nearby each of these porticus, as at St Augustine's, where an altar dedicated to Pope Gregory I formed the liturgical focus on the eastern wall of the archbishops' burial chapel. Burial close to an altar, preferably the high altar, appears to have been highly desirable for ecclesiastical leaders. The chroniclers recount many Anglo-Saxon examples that prove the trend was current by the late seventh century.36 Hagiographies written soon after Cuthbert's death in 687 note that the retired Northumbrian hermit-bishop wanted to be buried at his remote oratory on Farne Island. When his monastic community begged him to be buried inside the main church at Lindisfarne, he succumbed to their persuasions and allowed them to bury him in a stone 34

35

36

Bede, EH, v.7. See also Raine, The Historians of the Church of York ( London: Rolls Series, 1879), vol. I, esp. the Vita Sancti Johannis by Folcard, 260, written c.1060, and the Miracula Sancti Johannis, written in the latter part of thirteenth century, 342-3. Abbot Eosterwine had been interred in the porticus at the entrance to St Peter's church at Monkwearmouth and was translated to the east end in 716: Bede, Historia Abbatum, in Venerabilis Baedae Opera, ed C Plummer (1896), 385. Bede, Historia abbatum, 379, stated that Abbot Benedict Biscop was interred near the altar and relics of St Peter, but the anonymous author of the Life of Coelfrith specifies that Benedict was buried in the porticus of St Peter to the east of the altar: Life of Coelfrith, in Venerabilis Baedae, 394. Earlier burials near an altar may have taken place. Medieval tradition at Glastonbury held that Patrick, former bishop of Ireland and later monk and abbot at Glastonbury, was buried on the right side of the altar when he died there in 472. Our best source for this is William of Malmesbury, writing centuries after the event. For Patrick, see William's Vita Patricii, in William of Malmesbury: Saints' Lives, eds. Winterbottom and Thomson (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 2002), 340-41. This tomb survived until the fire of 1184 in the Old Church. Other burials soon clustered around the altar: St Indract’s tomb complemented Patrick’s on the left side of the altar, and eight others were interred in front of the altar. See Vita Indracti, in Saints' Lives, 380-81. Indract and his companions were martyred when returning to Ireland from a pilgrimage to Rome via Glastonbury. Dating Indract's death is problematic. William’s Gesta Regum indicates that his death may have been the late fifth century, but his later Vita Indracti says it was in the reign of Ine, i.e. between 688 and 726. See Saints' Lives, 312, where the editors discuss the date. M Lapidge, Anglo-Latin Literature, 900-1066 (London: Hambledon Press, 1993), chapter 15, gives an assessment of all that is known about St Indract. William of Malmesbury’s Vita Benigni, in Saints' Lives, 254-55 and 344-47, tells of another late fifth century burial near an altar. Benignus, heir to Patrick's bishopric in Ireland, retired to a life of self-exile near Glastonbury and was interred at his oratory, to the south by the altar.

32 sarcophagus to the right of the altar.37 When his remains were translated in 698, his successor, bishop Eadberht, was buried in Cuthbert's former tomb, and the hermit who had succeeded him on Farne was also buried nearby.38 Bede provided several other early examples of burials near the altar in the north of England, notably bishop Wilfrid of York (d.709), buried near the altar at Ripon Minster.39 The practice was continued well into the tenth century, including Archbishops Dunstan (d.988) and Odo (d.958) of Canterbury;40 Oswald (d.992), bishop of Worcester and Archbishop of York;41 and Bishop Ethelwold (d.984) of Winchester.42 The burial of Bishop Swithun in 862 in the graveyard just outside the west entrance of the cathedral at Winchester was a modest exception to what

37

38 39

40

41

42

Bede, Prose Life of Saint Cuthbert, 289, gave the location near the altar. This, written c.721, and an anonymous life of Cuthbert, written c.698-705 by a monk of Lindisfarne, are found in Bertram Colgrave, Two Lives of Saint Cuthbert (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1985). On the hermit Oethelwald, see Bede, EH, v.1; on the burial of Eadberht, see EH, iv.30. Bede, EH, v.19: “he was ... buried in the church of the blessed Apostle S Peter close to the altar on the south side.” See also Eddius Stephanus's c. 710 Vita Wilfridi Episcopi, the mid-tenth century Vita Sancti Wilfridi by Fridegodus, and the Breviloquium Vitae Sancti Wilfridi by Eadmer of Canterbury, early twelfth century (an abridged version of a more detailed Vita Wilfridi written by Eadmer). The last three are in Raine, Church of York, vol. I. Osbern's late eleventh-century Vita Sancti Dunstani, in The Memorials of Dunstan, ed. W Stubbs (London: Rolls Series, 1874), 126-7, and Eadmer's early twelfth-century Vita Sancti Dunstani, in Memorials, 220-221. Dunstan “was buried in the place he had chosen, namely in the place where the divine office used to be celebrated daily by the brothers, which was in front of the steps by which you ascend to the Altar of Christ the Lord,” transl. in A Turner and B Muir, Eadmer of Canterbury: Lives and Miracles of Saints Oda, Dunstan, and Oswald (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 2006), 157. He is later described as having his head at the matutinal altar, so he seems to have rested between two altars. Odo's burial location near the altar is known from the Lives of Dunstan which record his miraculous vision of a dove settling on Odo's tomb as Dunstan was saying mass. Eadmer's Vita S Oswaldi, in Raine, vol. II, 39, gives the burial location, designated by miraculous appearance of dove and ring of fire. English translation in Eadmer of Canterbury, ed Turner and Muir, 287. Senatus's Vita Sancti Oswaldi in Raine, vol. II, 89, seems to repeat Eadmer's information. An anonymous Life, in Raine, vol. I, written c.1000 by a monk of Ramsey who knew him, does not give location. William of Malmesbury, GP, iii.115, only says he “was buried in the church of the blessed Mary.” Wulfstan's Life of St Ethelwold, in Wulfstan of Winchester: The Life of St Ethelwold, eds. Lapidge and Winterbottom, (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1991), 64-5, says “in cripta ad australem plagam sancti altaris.” Crook, Cult of Saints, 49-50, discussed the term cripta and concluded that it means a vaulted space, rather than an underground crypt as the term denotes today. In 996 Ethelwold was translated to a new shrine in the choir of the Old Minster.

33 had firmly become the rule.43 In each of these instances, the senior ecclesiastical figure was buried in a church to which he had strong ties, among a community which he had either led or to which he had generously contributed. The practice of honoring a prestigious leader of a religious community within his own church received official confirmation when, in 740, Archbishop Cuthbert of Canterbury sought and was granted permission from the Pope to bury Canterbury's future archbishops at the cathedral rather than in the nearby monastery of St Augustine's. Cuthbert built a church dedicated to St John the Baptist next to the cathedral church, and it was here that he was buried when he died in 758.44 After this point, almost all succeeding medieval archbishops were buried at Canterbury. 45

Ecclesiastical burials in churches in England: motivations The care taken to bury ecclesiastical leaders in the church and near an altar raises 43

44

45

William of Malmesbury, GP, ii.75: “he used his authority as a bishop to instruct those who stood at his bedside that they should bury his body outside the church, where it would be exposed to the tramp of feet as people passed by and to the rain pouring down.” Cuthbert's burial location and discussion of the church is in Robert Willis, Architectural History of Canterbury Cathedral (London, 1845), 2, and taken from Eadmer's Life of Archbishop Bregwin (d.762). See also William of Malmesbury, GP, i.7. The form of the church dedicated to St John is not known, nor its precise relationship to the cathedral church, though Eadmer says that it was “almost touching” it. St Augustine's Abbey also had a separate church to the east of the main church from c.620; the two were not joined until the initiative of Abbot Wulfric after 1047. It is possible that the archbishop wanted to emulate at the cathedral the ancient layout at St Augustine's. See Hope, “Recent Discoveries,” 383-4. When the Church of St John the Baptist was abandoned and the cathedral itself was chosen for burial is unclear. The first burial explicitly stated by the chroniclers to be in the cathedral church is that of Archbishop Odo, d.958. Alan Thacker, “Cults at Canterbury,” St Dunstan: His Life, Times and Cult, eds. Ramsay, Sparks, Tatton-Brown (Woodbridge: The Boydell Press, 1992), 237, suggested that this might indicate that Odo's burial in the church was a break with tradition. See Wilson, “Medieval Monuments,” for medieval burials at Canterbury Cathedral. The notable exception to the growing trend of burial within the church was the monastic cathedral church at Durham. Bishop William of St Carileph (d.1096) stated that none of his predecessors had been buried in the church, and that he did not wish it as it would detract from the honor due to St Cuthbert, the Lindisfarne hermit-bishop whose body eventually was laid to rest at Durham and formed the focus of a powerful cult. See William of Malmesbury, GP, iii.133. The first bishop to be buried inside Durham cathedral was Anthony Bek (d.1311): see the Rites of Durham, 1593.

34 questions about the needs of the clergy and local religious community. The relative lack in Britain of early Christian martyria meant that opportunities for burial ad sanctos were fewer than on the continent. Small relics, brought from Europe, were housed at altars, and so the preference for Anglo-Saxon clergy of burial near an altar may have been prompted by the need to be close to relics.46 But burial near an altar had another very powerful advantage: the altar was the liturgical focus of the church. The growing practice of entombment near an altar corresponds to formation of the concept of purgatory and the increasing liturgical emphasis on prayer for the dead. The development of the concept of purgatory illustrates that there was real anxiety about the state of the soul in between the moment of an individual's death and the end of time, the Last Judgment, which had not arrived as early as Christ prophesied in Matthew 24:34. Though not made official church doctrine until 1274, the creation of an interim state where sins could be expiated and the soul helped to gain salvation occurred in the early Middle Ages in response to this theological problem.47 Pope Gregory I (d.604) helped formalize the concept of purgatory in his fourth book of Dialogues, where he pronounced his belief that sinners who had repented on the deathbed would have a chance to do penance after death for their minor sins. The souls of people who were just, but not yet perfected, would be delayed in their progress to Heaven until penance by

46

47

Rollason, chapter 2, provided several examples of relics from Rome appearing in England. Relics were brought to England by Augustine, 597. Shortly thereafter Pope Vitalian sent relics to Northumbria from Rome. In 671, Benedict Biscop brought some from Rome to Monkwearmouth and Jarrow. Wilfrid in 680 brought relics back from Rome. His follower, Acca, bishop of Hexham, also gathered relics. On the custom of placing relics on altars, see Crook, Cult of Saints, 12-14 and 65-68. Relics became essential for the consecration of a church by the late eighth century, but up through the eighth century in Gaul and Britain the practice was not as widely observed as in Rome. On purgatory, see Jacques le Goff, The Birth of Purgatory; Binski, 24-28 and 183-99; and bibliography in my introduction, n. 2.

35 cleansing fire was complete.48 Bede recounted stories current in the early eighth century of the monks Drythelm and Fursa who had experienced visions of this interim purgatorial state. Both monks described visiting a place where souls were punished by fire and thereby cleansed, and the guide in Drythelm's vision explained that “because they did repent and confess, even though on their deathbed, they will all come to the kingdom of heaven on judgment day; and the prayers of those who are still alive, their alms and fastings and especially the celebration of masses, help many of them to get free even before the day of judgment.”49 Drythelm's guide clearly stated the benefit that intercessory prayer performed by the living could offer in this cleansing process. This belief, too, was made clear by Gregory in the late sixth century, in his accounts of souls being forced to suffer menial labor until concentrated prayer by a living priest eased their passage to salvation.50 In fact, the idea that suffrages of the living could ease the torments of the dead was articulated as early as 397 by Augustine of Hippo in his Confessions.51 Pope Gregory I, in his Dialogues, specifically recommended burial in a church as a way to aid the soul because the prominent placement of the burial would encourage people in the church to pray for the deceased.52 Surviving Anglo-Saxon tomb markers that still bear partial inscriptions illustrate Gregory's point. Several inscriptions seem to have included phrases 48

49

50 51

52

Saint Gregory the Great: Dialogues, trans. Odo John Zimmerman (New York: Fathers of the Church, Inc, 1959), book four, topics 26 and 41. The Dialogues were written c.593. Bede, EH, v.12 for Drythelm's vision, which also included a waiting place for those who are not yet perfect enough to be face to face with God but who are not actively being purged; and iii.19 for Fursa's vision. When Gregory I died, Bede, EH, ii.1, stated that he was buried before the sanctuary of the church of St Peter, like so many of the Anglo-Saxon clergy. Dialogues, book four, topic 42. Binski, 184, where he notes that Augustine is often credited as the father of Purgatory because he “validated the idea that the living could assist the dead through suffrages.” Dialogues, book four, topic 52.

36 such as orate pro me (pray for me) and requiescat in pace (may he rest in peace), showing the desire for peace after death and the possibility of its achievement through prayer.53 Drythelm's guide especially noted the importance of Mass in the process of alleviating purgatorial punishment. Gregory, when specifically asked what can be done to aid souls after death, stated that celebration of the Mass, “the holy Sacrifice of Christ, our saving Victim, brings great benefit to souls even after death.” He related, among other instances, how he succeeded in pacifying the tormented soul of a deceased monk by saying thirty Masses for him.54 Frederick Paxton's research on the development of liturgical ritual relating to death shows the sixth century to be the point at which Mass began to play a greater role in “posthumous rituals of expiation,” encouraged in part by Pope Gregory I.55 Gregory's ideas about the expiatory properties of Mass in aiding suffering souls was accepted by the Irish church by c.700 and in turn had strong impact on the Anglo-Saxons. Bede testified to the currency of the idea in the early eighth century when he wrote that weekly Masses at the altar of St Gregory in the archbishops' porticus at St Augustine's were held in memory of the deceased archbishops.56

The desire for burial in proximity to an altar may have resulted from another motive, this one of benefit both to the deceased and to the community. Saints' shrines 53

54 55

56

See Cramp, Corpus of Anglo-Saxon Stone Sculpture in England (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1984- ), 8 vols. For example, vol. 3 on York by Lang, numbers 21 and 42. Dialogues, book four, topic 57. Paxton, 66. Paxton also noted that the system of confraternity developed in monasteries in the late eighth century, with lists of dead for commemoration. Between 800-850, specialized Masses appear for remembrance of dead, and a special daily office for the dead became part of monastic ritual in the Frankish church. Bede, EH, ii.3

37 were often associated with an altar in the late antique period, and certainly from the sixth and seventh centuries, when saints were often translated from the original burial place in an underground chamber to an accessible location near an altar on the main floor of the church.57 In Revelation 6.9, John “saw under the altar the souls of them that were slain for the word of God.” Were bishops and abbots buried near the altar with the expectation of canonization? Cuthbert, as quoted by Bede, seems to have alluded to some expectation of sanctity when he agreed to be buried with the monks at Lindisfarne: “If you wish to set aside my plans and to take my body back there [to the monastery at Lindisfarne], it seems best that you entomb it in the interior of your church, so that while you yourselves can visit my sepulcher when you wish, it may be in your power to decide whether any of those who come thither should approach it.”58 His words imply an assumption that his body would be visited by monks and by people from outside the monastic community, and his suggestion of placement allowed the monks a certain amount of control over access to his body as well as a share in any benefits that might derive from his burial. It is often difficult to assess from the medieval literary sources whether a deceased prelate was considered a saint at the time of burial. Before the thirteenth century, becoming a saint was not accompanied by an official process of canonization involving inquiry, testimony, and formal papal approval. Instead, cults were largely local and 57

58

An early case is the body of St Martin of Tours (d.397), which was elevated to the apse in the rebuilt basilica in 472. Crook's research on the architectural setting of saints' shrines shows the varying patterns that developed around veneration of a saint's body. For the sixth century, see Crook, Cult of Saints, 6876, with summary on p. 246. The elevation was usually done by a succeeding bishop or abbot, who in turn hoped to be treated in the same manner. For the cult of saints in England, see Rollason, chapter 2. Bede, Prose Life of Cuthbert, 279-81. The burial place that Cuthbert had chosen for himself, according to Bede, 273, was “near my oratory towards the south, on the eastern side of the holy cross which I have erected there. Now there is on the north side of this same oratory a sarcophagus hidden under the turf.” Even if Bede fabricated Cuthbert's quote, Bede's words make it clear that the proper treatment of a revered holy father was a serious matter.

38 regulated by the bishop of the diocese. The 'proof' of sainthood lay in the miracles that were effected by the saint; formal recognition of the person as a saint occurred when the deceased's remains were translated to a more suitable location.59 In England, as in Europe, the majority of people venerated as saints after the Roman period were senior members of the church. A great number of Anglo-Saxon bishops were later honored as saints, and the many hagiographical texts that were written about them were calculated to demonstrate their worthiness of sanctity. However, though Cuthbert anticipated that his tomb would be sought after, and though he was given a burial spot close to the holiest place in the church, there is no indication that his original tomb was given the trappings of a saint's shrine. Bede implied that Cuthbert's first tomb of 687 was below ground, since, when the saint's coffin was opened and his body found uncorrupted eleven years after his death, Bede wrote that the monks then “wanted to put them [the bones] in a light chest in the same place, but above the floor, so that they might be worthily venerated.”60 The elevated and decorated chest made for Cuthbert's body eleven years after his original burial partakes of the visual culture of saints current in Gaul in the sixth century. The primary motive for elevation of a saint's body and reburial in a prominent memorial seems to have been to allow both visual and physical access to the saint. Gregory of Tours, for example, describes being

59

60

Encyclopedia Britannica, entry on canonization. Ecclesiastical control over canonization grew gradually from the tenth century. Under Gregory IX (1227–41), the process was controlled exclusively by the Holy See. Bede, Prose Life of Cuthbert, 293, and EH, iv.30, emphasis mine. Bede added that Cuthbert's successor was buried in Cuthbert's first sarcophagus, and that the new raised tomb was put on top of the former one. The new coffin was wooden, with carvings of religious figures: David Wilson, Anglo-Saxon Art from the Seventh Century to the Norman Conquest (Woodstock: The Overlook Press, 1984), 49-51.

39 able to get inside the shrine of St Martin.61 By the seventh century, documentary evidence speaks to more elaborate treatment. St Eloi, bishop of Noyon, was known to have constructed sumptuous monuments covered by precious materials over the tops of the tombs of St Martin and of St Denis. Similarly, decorative superstructures were raised over the shrines of St Germain of Auxerre, and of St Eloi himself. Despite the modest example of Cuthbert's first interment, a large number of burials of bishops and abbots in England seem to have been embellished by a threedimensional superstructure before a cult had developed around the deceased. Several were not elevated from their first burial place for many years; nevertheless, the original burial was marked by a raised monument of some kind resting on the pavement above the body, creating a three-dimensional object which demanded that the religious community and its visitors take notice.62 Literary works that emphasize the sanctity of religious exemplars by authors such as Bede, Eadmer, and others show that it was customary to treat exceptional religious leaders with great respect. But the visual alignment of the burial place of a senior ecclesiastic with the body of a saint was a striking statement that might express hope for future sanctification, or a desire to be associated with the saints in the face of coming Judgment.63

61 62

63

For this and examples in the rest of the paragraph, see Crook, Cult of Saints, 68-76 and 245-53. There are several examples of delayed translations. Eadmer said that Oswald of Worcester was translated twelve years after his death. As with Oswald, people sought the tomb of Bishop Wulfstan for cures before he was translated. William of Malmesbury, GP, iv.149 comments that if “the easy way of the ancients lived on, Wulfstan would long ago have been raised on high and proclaimed a saint.” Canonization was sought after the fire of 1147, and his translation occurred in 1218. Becket is the most well-known example. He was given a raised monument over his below-pavement burial before his translation to the Trinity Chapel: see Crook, Cult of Saints, 258-60. Crook, Cult of Saints, 253-67, called these raised tombs provided before translation 'tomb-shrines', implying their treatment was similar to saints, but Thacker, 226, offers an opposing view. He suspected that the difficulty of access to the body of Dunstan placed under the pavement, as described in accounts of pilgrims at the tomb, indicates that there was no thought of sainthood when Dunstan's monument was

40

Ecclesiastical burials in churches in England: form What form these three-dimensional burial markers took has not been definitively clarified, but some idea can be gained from the written evidence and from surviving monuments. William of Malmesbury, for example, recorded that Archbishop Cuthbert, bishop at Hereford before becoming Archbishop of Canterbury in 740, erected a monument to six of his esteemed predecessors at Hereford. The epitaph provided by Cuthbert for the tomb gives some indication of form: “This marble shades and holds their six bodies. This tomb, built with wondrous beauty, Contains them hidden under its roof, that is carved on top.”64 The carved roof and use of marble suggest that the monument was raised above the pavement, and the fact that it was made “with wondrous beauty” implies that the whole was intended to be seen. At Canterbury, the monument to Archbishop Bregwin (d.762), located in the church of St John near the body of his predecessor archbishop Cuthbert, was described by Eadmer as “flat, of decent workmanship, and a little raised above the pavement.”65 At Worcester Cathedral, over the late tenth-century grave of Oswald, archbishop of York and bishop of Worcester, was placed “a work of wonderful workmanship,” which an anonymous biographer described as having been erected in the days after his burial.66 The medieval writers use varied terminology to describe the monuments, but the most frequent descriptive term to appear in accounts of early ecclesiastical tombs is that 64 65 66

determined (possibly by Dunstan himself; certainly he designated the location). William of Malmesbury, GP, iv.163. This from Eadmer's Life of Bregwin, translated by Willis, 3. “mirabile operis opus,” in the anonymous Vita Sancti Oswaldi, in Raine, 473. The c.1000 text dates from before his translation, and so therefore must be describing his original burial. Crook, Cult of Saints, 165, noted that Oswald seemed to get the same treatment that was generally reserved for saints.

41 they were built in the manner of a pyramis, translated today as pyramid.67 Archbishop Odo's c.960 monument at Canterbury is described in Osbern's biography of St Dunstan. As Dunstan was celebrating Mass at Canterbury's high altar, a dove “rested upon the tomb of the blessed Odo, which was constructed in the fashion of a pyramid.”68 Dunstan (d.988) received similar treatment: “Here in the midst of the choir his body was deposited in a leaden coffin, deep in the ground… A tomb was afterwards constructed over him, in the form of a large and lofty pyramid, and having at the head of the saint the matutinal altar.”69 St Patrick at Glastonbury (d.472), according to William of Malmesbury, rested in a “stone pyramid ... which the devotion of later times overlaid with silver.”70 At Beverley, the tomb of St John, Archbishop of York, was also pyramidal in form.71 William of Malmesbury provided a more detailed but still enigmatic description of Bishop Wulfstan’s c.1100 tomb in Worcester Cathedral. Wulfstan “lies between two ‘pyramids’, under a beautiful stone arch. There is a wooden projection above, carrying attached to it

67

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Word choice used in medieval documents varies considerably in the descriptions of monuments, testifying either to the wide variety of monuments that were produced, or to the lack of established vocabulary for the authors to use. See Crook, Cult of Saints, 242-3, on terminology. Superstructures were called monumentum, pyramis, lectulus, domunculus, turris, tegurium, fastigium, repa, requies, or arca. Tumulus and sepulchrum also occur, but it is unclear whether they mean the whole structure (including container for the body) or just superstructure. Osbern's Life of St Dunstan, in Memorials of Dunstan, and translated by Willis, 6. William of Malmesbury's Vita Dunstani, in Saints' Lives, 254, also says it was built modo pyramidis. Eadmer used the term tumba instead of pyramis in his Vita S Odonis, in Eadmer of Canterbury, 36. This translation by Willis, 6, is compiled from a number of sources. The location of the burial is given in Osbern's Vita S Dunstan, in Memorials, 126-7. The reference to the pyramidal form comes from Eadmer, De Reliquiis Sancti Audoeni et Quorunduam aliorum sanctorum, ed A Wilmart, Revue des Sciences Religieuses, xv, 1935, 365, written before 1116. Curiously, Eadmer did not use the term pyramis in his Vita S Dunstani, in Eadmer of Canterbury, 122, preferring instead tumba. Eadmer added that according to the custom of the English, Dunstan was buried deep underground, so the pyramid must have sat on the pavement and have been itself empty. Thacker, 237, suggested that the form of Dunstan's memorial was “probably a standard one for senior ecclesiastics.” Vita Patricii, in Saints Lives, 340-341. It is unclear whether the stone pyramid, like the gold and silver, was made for the burial at a later date. From the late thirteenth-century Alia Miracula Sancti Johannis Episcopi, Raine, vol. II, 342-3.

42 the iron grilles they call ‘spiders’ webs.’”72 In front of this structure was a mat, on which supplicants could kneel. Though the exact form is unclear, the burial was marked by two upright constructions that supported a stone arch. It is possible that the two 'pyramids' were the gabled ends of a pointed or slightly rounded stone structure (the 'arch' over the tomb chest).73 The iron work has been interpreted as protective iron grilles for the coffin or chest which held the body and was most likely elevated above the pavement.74 The geometrical definition of a pyramis as having a square base and sloping sides meeting at an apex was known in medieval times from copies of Boethius’s De Arithmetica, but this strict definition of the shape does not seem to have applied in a medieval funerary context.75 The sepulchral nature of the pyramids in Egypt may not have been known in the Middle Ages, but closer to home the pyramid form in its strictest sense was used at the mausoleum of Cestius outside of Rome, and may have been known to the great number of clergy who traveled to the papal seat. More typically, the pyramid 72

73

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English translation by Winterbottom and Thomson in William of Malmesbury, GP, iv.148. The Latin reads “Iacet inter duas piramides, arcu lapideo pulchre superuoluto. Lignum in superiori prominet, quod casses ferreos, quos uocant araneas, infixos habet.” Discussed by RDH Gem, “Bishop Wulfstan II and the Romanesque Cathedral Church of Worcester,” Medieval Art and Architecture at Worcester Cathedral (London: British Archaeological Association, 1978), 20: Gem translated it as “’lies between two piramides, vaulted over above with a beautiful stone arch. A wooden beam projects out above, which has fixed in it iron grills, which are called ‘spider’s webs.’” Gem suggested “there was an independent monument with two stone piers of some form such as might be denoted by the word piramis, carrying an enriched vault or arch (it may be wondered whether this was not carved and painted). A wooden beam protruding at a higher level from the masonry structure carried iron grills, and these perhaps descended down around the monument to protect it.” See also the discussion in Crook, Cult of Saints, 236-40. Robert Willis, Architectural Nomenclature of the Middle Ages (Cambridge, 1844), did not mention the term pyramis in his discussion of medieval architectural terms used to indicate piers, so it is likely that pyramides are not the architectural piers between which the monument was inserted. Gem and Crook also come to the conclusion that the pyramides are not architectural. Crook felt that the monument was not under an arch in the wall, since the fire apparently caused debris to fall on all sides. Crook, Cult of Saints, 236-40. He also noted that since the tomb was up stairs and therefore in the east end, it had a crypt underneath it that would have precluded burial beneath the floor. Boethius, De Arithmetica, Liber Secundus, Patrologia Cursus Completus, ed JP Migne, vol 63. Pyramis is mentioned in caput xxii-xxv. See CR Dodwell, Anglo-Saxon Art: A New Perspective (Ithaca: Cornell University Press, 1982), 113-18 on the Anglo-Saxon use of the word pyramid.

43 form appears on the roofs of Greek and Roman mausolea. It is entirely conceivable that a pyramis merely meant a roof, most likely with triangular section, over the top of a solid structure, in this case not the walls of a mausoleum but a stone coffin or a tumba, a chest, constructed over the coffin. A sixteenth-century dictionary shows that the term was understood by then to mean a steeple, and it was frequently used to describe roof forms at least until the eighteenth century.76 The concept of a tomb as a structure, a house, was a metaphor that appeared frequently in surviving Anglo-Saxon poetry.77 Other terminology used to describe bishops' monuments fits into this general architectural definition. At Winchester, before his translation in 971 into Ethelwold's new westwerk, the grave of Bishop Swithun had been given a raised structure, described by the chronicler Lantfred as a tugurium, or a little hut, having the same dimensions as the coffin, and described by Wulfstan as a raised structure with gabled roof.78 The same terminology of a house or small building is frequently used in describing small-scale reliquary caskets with gabled or hipped roofs, and in describing elevated saints' shrines.79 The term was also used to describe what appear to have been monumental cross-shafts, often used outside to mark 76

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Thomas Cooper, Thesaurus Lingua Romanae et Britannicae, 1584. A tract in Latin about the 1561 fire in the steeple of St Paul's uses the word pyramis to mean the steeple: William Sparrow Simpson, Documents illustrating the history of St Paul's, 1880. The architectural meaning supplied by the Oxford English Dictionary (#3) is closer to the definition that the word had gained by the sixteenth century: “Any structure of pyramidal form, as a spire, pinnacle, obelisk, etc. Also applied to a gable.” John Leland in his Itinerary used the word to mean a spire on top of a tower, as did Celia Fiennes and Thomas Hearne in the early eighteenth century. Douglas Moffat, “The Grave in Early Middle English Verse,” Florilegium, vol. VI (1984), 96-102. Crook, Cult of Saints, 163-64 and 254-5. This, despite the fact that William of Malmesbury recorded that Swithun requested his monument to be underfoot, implying something flat. The contemporary sources on the translation are Wulfstan of Winchester, Narratio Metrica de S Swithano and Lantfred, Translatio et Miracula S. Swithuni. See also M Lapidge, The Cult of St Swithun (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 2003). St Eloi “created the mausoleum of St Denis and a tugurium over that tomb, marvellously made in gold and jewels”: Crook, Cult of Saints, 73. The body of St Fursa, an Irish missionary who died in Gaul in 645, was translated to a little house, a “domunculus,” on the east side of altar: Crook, Cult of Saints, 72. The monument over the translated body of St Chad at Lichfield is described as “covered with a wooden coffin in the form of a little house”: Bede, EH, iv. 3.

44 burials in churchyards. William of Malmesbury described pyramides in or near the cemetery at Glastonbury, of great height and carved in panels with inscriptions.80 His description corresponds with surviving cross-shafts in Scotland and northern England, in which the four sides of the shaft slope gently inwards from a rectangular base towards an apex, likening them in some degree to a pyramid.81 The term thus may have encompassed a variety of forms, though it is clear that all are funerary in nature, and are raised monuments, to which special care had been given to make visibly present the body of the deceased. Surviving monuments, many of which, however, are not securely attributable, can perhaps best illuminate the form of these early ecclesiastical monuments mentioned in texts. There are many surviving tombs with gabled or hipped lids which suit the structure-roof analogy. Though by no means the only form of funerary monument in the Roman period, Roman sarcophagi with coped lids are plentiful. Panofsky's characterization of these as “domatomorphic” because they resemble a house, with sloped roof and gables, and even, in some instances, acroteria, corresponds neatly with the types 80

81

For what follows, see Taylor and Taylor, Anglo-Saxon Architecture (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1965-78), vol. I, 255. William of Malmesbury, De Antiquitate, ed. Hearne, 44-5, described two tall pyramides “bordering the monks' cemetery” at Glastonbury. William referred a second time to two pyramids “within the monks' cemetery,” between which king Arthur and his queen were buried: Gesta Regum. William recorded these as having slightly different heights; Taylor and Taylor conclude that he was discussing the same monuments. Gerald of Wales talked about two pyramids marking the tomb of Arthur, which he said were high and inscribed. But when William of Worcester visited Glastonbury in c.1480, he recorded that “on the south there are in the cemetery two stone crosses, hollowed, where the bones of King Arthur were buried, and where Joseph of Arimathea lies”: Itinerarium, ed J Nasmith, Cambridge 1778, 294. Some scholars have suggested that these are, in each instance, the same pair of monuments, and the terms 'pyramids' and 'crosses' refer to the same form, namely a tall standing cross such as those seen in northern England and Scotland. This seems to be confirmed by an eighteenthcentury visitor who noted that the shafts had been removed for use as gateposts, but that the hollowed out basin in which they formerly stood was still visible. His description corresponds with construction methods for monumental standing crosses. Only Crook seems to express doubt as to the cross theory. A less explicable use of the term, however, occurs in a description of the rectangular tomb chest and effigy of Count Robert de Courtnay (d.1242) in Devonshire: Crook, Cult of Saints, 236-40. As a result, Crook believes that the term merely should be interpreted as “little more than a monument.”

45 of terms that were used by medieval chroniclers in England.82 The form was also used for burials of early Christian saints in Europe, such as the plain gabled sarcophagi attributed to St Germain at Auxerre (d.448) and to St Philibert (d. c.684) at Tournus. The seventhcentury crypt of the church of St-Paul at Jouarre holds the decorated and gabled sarcophagi of its early abbesses and Bishop Agilbert.83 Roman domatomorphic sarcophagi were plentiful in England, and it is clear that the form was used there well into the Middle Ages (Fig. 1).84 Archaeological excavations in the north porticus of the abbey church of St Augustine's have revealed that the first archbishops of Canterbury were interred in coffins with sloped lids.85 These, however, differ from standard Roman sarcophagi in that the coffins and lids were underground, and a visible rectangular superstructure with a flat top was built above the coffins to raise the monument above pavement level. The tomb of Archbishop Laurentius (d.619) had a wooden coffin topped by a hipped lid with flattened ridge. The coffin base was sunk below floor level, and the coped lid was covered with cement and rubble, building the structure up to a height of three feet above the pavement. A visitor to the porticus would only have seen the raised rectangular covering. Archbishop Justus (d.630) was given similar treatment. His wooden coffin with gabled lid was also below ground, and covered 82 83

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Panofsky, chapter 2. See also a summary of Roman funerary forms in Toynbee, chapter seven. Rollason, 52, has an illustration. Dating the sarcophagi is difficult, but Maille, Les Cryptes de Jouarre (Paris: Picard, 1971), places them in the seventh to early ninth centuries. In England, archaeological finds in the York area include several Roman sarcophagi with gabled lids and rudimentary decorative designs carved along the sides of the chest. Some sport a scalloped pattern on the gabled lid resembling roof tiles See Hope, “Recent Discoveries,” 390-9; Taylor and Taylor, vol. I, 134-143. The archaeology was aided by the very precise descriptions given in Goscelin's contemporary account of the translation of St Augustine written at end of the eleventh century: Historia Translationis S Augustini Episcopi, in Patrologia Latina, ed. Migne, clv. Clearly the memory of who was where had been maintained right up to the translation, with the exception of the finding of the so-called Deusdedit, an unknown burial below the altar of St Gregory. St Adrian, seventh abbot, seems to have held to Roman tradition; his body was found in a large white marble sarcophagus.

46 with white cement formed into a flat rectangular shape raised six inches above the paving. The monument of Archbishop Mellitus (d.624) was also visible as a raised rectangle with flat top raised three inches above the floor. The methods of construction show that these burials were made with great care, and the chronicler Goscelin's comments that “all the sepulchral monuments of those men ... were fragile and of tilework” and that Augustine's monument had “sculptures and angelic images... wonderfully wrought over the tomb” illustrate that the rectangular surfaces, and perhaps the walls above them, were given extensive decoration.86 Elaborate grave-markers survive from the later Anglo-Saxon period. Most can no longer be attributed to any particular person with any certainty, but they give a general idea of the type of monuments to which the medieval authors were referring. The seventh-century gabled stone lid carved with religious scenes now in the church at Wirksworth, Derbyshire, for example, could easily have found a place in the medieval chronicles as a “work of wonderful workmanship.”87 It was clearly meant to be seen, and either stood proud of the floor or formed the lid of an above-ground chest. Fragments of stone chests in the shape of houses survive from Jedburgh Abbey and St Andrews in 86

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Hope, “Recent Discoveries,” 391. Goscelin wrote that the coffin of Augustine sat on a pavement of bright purple tiles, which means that below the normal pavement level, at the bottom of the grave, a second floor was made on which to lay the coffin: Hope, 395. This was taken up during the translation and reused as relics in the newly built porticus. Why go to the trouble of having a raised wooden coffin if it was going to be covered? The cement surrounding the wooden coffins effectively preserved the gabled shape after the wood had decomposed; in effect, the archbishops were given a permanent coffin. It is possible that the monument erected by Wulfstan to his predecessors at Hereford (cited in William of Malmesbury and noted above) may also have taken this form: the high roofed tomb could have been covered by the flat marble slab, just as these high roofed tombs were covered by a flat rectangular superstructure. Overviews of the surviving Anglo-Saxon sculpture are in Rollason, chapter 2 and Wilson, Anglo-Saxon Art. For more detailed information on surviving sculpture by region, see the Anglo-Saxon Corpus. Saul, English Church Monuments, 13-24, briefly discusses Anglo-Saxon funerary imagery, and V Thompson, Death and Dying in Later Anglo-Saxon England (Woodbridge: The Boydell Press, 2004), provides a full study of Anglo-Saxon funerary customs and art.

47 Scotland. The Jedburgh fragments, thought to be dated to the eighth century, are decorated with inhabited vine scroll and have a gabled end. The St Andrews fragment, dating possibly to the ninth century, also has inhabited vine scroll and a hunting scene in relief.88 The decorative carving indicates they would have stood above the floor. The northern part of the island boasts some inventive variations on the raised monument. Scandinavian-influenced 'hogback' memorials from the tenth century are tall grave covers whose sides taper to a gabled ridge. The long sides of the walls and 'roof' are slightly bowed, and animals are often carved at each of the gabled ends. Some examples in the Meigle Museum in Scotland and in Brompton Church, Yorks, have scalloped 'tiles' (tegula) carved on the sloping top. The monastery of Iona has accumulated a large collection of grave markers, some of were laid horizontally but which measure at least a foot in thickness. These, heavily carved with interlace patterns in many cases, assured the visibility of the memorial. These stones survive alongside upright stelae and the tall decorated cross-shafts which are found all over Scotland and northern England. Just as in the Roman period, there was incredible variety in sculpted monuments through the Anglo-Saxon period. A look at the surviving monuments in cathedral settings from the twelfth and early thirteenth centuries shows that through the post-Conquest period, the elite favored sepulchral forms that were variations on the concept of the raised tomb chest. A number of unattributed (and largely undatable) decorated slabs, which either rested on a high tomb chest or were placed slightly above floor level, survive from the twelfth and early thirteenth centuries, such as the Purbeck slab at Rochester adorned on the surface with a 88

CAR Radford, “Two Scottish Shrines,” Archaeological Journal (1955), 43-60.

48 low-relief, full-length stylized foliate cross (Fig. 2).89 Decorated, raised chests, such as the Purbeck chest in Rochester's north transept (Fig. 3), also survive, sometimes with a gabled or hipped top that ultimately derived from the domatomorphic Roman sarcophagus. An early twelfth-century example found in the precinct at Canterbury bears a deep hipped lid which comprises over a third of the total height of the monument. The lid is carved with a scallop motif, and the long side of the chest features an arcade of engaged columns and cushion capitals carved in low relief. The suggestion that this form derives from antique models, and that it represents the pyramis that is so often mentioned in medieval texts, is plausible.90 At Winchester cathedral, a late twelfth-century monument most likely marking the burial of Bishop Henry of Blois (d.1171; Fig. 4) consists of a plain chest topped by a carefully molded and hipped lid of Purbeck marble, placed in front of the steps to the high altar in an extremely prominent location.91 A late twelfth-century carved Purbeck tomb chest is now married to an early thirteenth-century gabled lid in Rochester Cathedral. The lid, with its series of quatrefoils encircling low relief heads of bishops, is seen as a nod towards the nearby metropolitan tomb of Archbishop Hubert Walter (d.1205; Fig. 5) at Canterbury.92

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Saul, English Church Monuments, 19-26. Saul albeit with caution, notes the possibility, as suggested in A.N. McClain, “Patronage, Power and Identity: The Social Use of Local Churches and Commemorative Monuments in Tenth- to Twelfth-Century North Yorkshire” (Phd thesis, University of York, 2006), that fewer monuments may have been commissioned during the post-Conquest period. Ramsay and Sparks, “The Cult of St Dunstan at Christ Church,” St Dunstan: His Life, Times and Cult, 312-13, suggest that “the pyramid must have been like the Fordwich stone or other Saxon or later echoes of Roman sarcophagi.” Wilson, “Medieval Monuments,” 457, agreed, saying that Oda’s tomb must have been of this form. This tomb was formerly attributed to William Rufus, but is more likely to have belonged to the bishop. The most recent studies of this tomb are John Crook, “The 'Rufus Tomb' in Winchester Cathedral,” Antiquaries Journal 79 (1999), 187-212 and George Zarnecki, “Henry of Blois as a patron of sculpture,” Art and Patronage in the English Romanesque, eds. Macready and Thompson (London: Society of Antiquaries, 1986), 7-27. There has been very little study of this monument nor of a second tomb chest at Rochester. The most

49 Hubert Walter's monument provides a fitting ending for a chapter that discusses location and manner of burial for senior clergy leading into the thirteenth century. Arguably, his tomb was located in the most enviable position of all: south of the shrine of Thomas Becket in the brand new and sumptuous Trinity Chapel built specifically for the shrine. Furthermore, his burial was the only burial allowed into this sacred space for 200 years. Christopher Wilson noted that, while Hubert was not eligible for sainthood, he “had earned the undying gratitude of the monks” and was appropriately commemorated.93 The marble chest with its hipped lid was dismantled in 1890 and found to have been erected around and over a coffin, which rested on the pavement.94 It is the example of the tomb of Hubert Walter that brings us closest to defining the elusive medieval term pyramis used for burials of ecclesiastical leaders. The attribution of the Canterbury monument to a senior member of the clergy is certain. The quality of the carving is excellent, and the material, Purbeck marble, is sumptuous, all features fitting for the tomb of a senior prelate. Because Canterbury had a long tradition of raised tombs, it is possible that it followed in the formal trends set by Odo (d.958), Dunstan (d.988), and Theobald (d.1161). More importantly for the purposes of defining the term, a visitor's notes from c.1600 state that he had seen at Canterbury a monument in the form of a pyramis. In the

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recent publications are Nigel Saul, “The Medieval Monuments of Rochester Cathedral,” Medieval Art, Architecture, and Archaeology at Rochester, eds. Tim Ayers and Tim Tatton-Brown (British Archaeological Association, 2006), and Tim Tatton-Brown, “The Burial places of the Bishops of Rochester,” Friends of Rochester Cathedral Report (2004/5), 16-19. Wilson, “Medieval Monuments,” 454-58. He noted that the tomb was carefully sited between the piers so as to not obstruct pilgrims in the aisles, and also that the opening under the window was the widest and the most correctly oriented for the tomb. It was carefully sited. See John Morris, The Tombs of the Archbishops in Canterbury Cathedral (Canterbury, 1890), for a discussion of the historiography of this tomb and the confusing tradition that attributed it to Archbishop Theobald. In its general construction it appears to be very much like the monument to Archbishop Theobald (d.1161) at Canterbury. Gervase's description of the dismantling of Theobald's tomb after a fire proves that the monument consisted of two separate features: a tomb (tumba) built of marble slabs, dismantled first, which revealed the inner or lower coffin (sarcophagus) holding the body: R Willis, 57.

50 margin, as an illustration, he sketched Hubert's tomb.95

These many examples have established that senior clergy in England could expect to be treated with special reverence at death. A reasonably pious bishop or abbot could be assured of a place of honor for his burial, certainly within the church, and often near an altar, or in Hubert Walter's case, a shrine. Additionally, his continuing presence in the church and in the minds of the brethren was assured by a visibly prominent and tangible monument. In fact, by 1191, the prevalence of raised monuments in churches prompted the austere Cistercian order to promulgate statutes explicitly forbidding that burial markers be raised above the pavement.96 On his deathbed, Bishop Hugh of Lincoln (d.1200) requested that his monument be placed against a wall so as not to provide an obstacle to clergy carrying out services.97 His comment reveals his assumption that he would be honored with a raised monument. Senior clergy could also expect a certain degree of care taken to keep track of the burials and their locations, through locally produced documents, such as the writings of Eadmer and Gervase at Canterbury, in chronicles and histories such as Bede's, and in martyrologies which sometimes included place of burial.98 But the monuments described above, despite the care taken with form, placement,

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Morris, 18, told of Scarlett's visits to Canterbury in 1599 and 1601; his notes are embellished with a sketch of the tomb of Hubert Walter next to his entry on Odo (to whom he mistakenly attributes the monument). Lawrence Butler, “Cistercian Abbots’ Tombs and Abbey Seals,” Studies in Cistercian Art and Architecture 4 (Kalamazoo, MI: Cistercian Publications, 1993), 78-88. The 1191 statute says “let the stones in the cloisters placed over the dead be level with the ground.” This was repeated in 1194 and 1202. Magna Vita Sancti Hugonis, eds. Douie and Farmer (London: Nelson, 1961-2), 192. Rollason, 70-3, on martyrologies.

51 and record-keeping, are hardly personalized. Sculpture of the deceased did exist on many Roman tombs found on the continent, usually consisting of a relief portrait or a scene illustrating some aspect of the life of the deceased, but the Roman legacy in England did not include large numbers of sarcophagi with individualized imagery.99 While a great deal of figure sculpture survives on Anglo-Saxon funerary monuments, these did not illustrate the deceased.100 The surviving early twelfth-century tomb chests and lids also did not display carved images of the deceased. Nor is there any indication in the texts from these periods that ecclesiastical tombs were so adorned.101 The second half of the twelfth century saw the dramatic appearance of monuments sculpted with images of the deceased. At the same time, the long-standing ecclesiastical preference for monumental tomb chests with coped lids was decisively abandoned.

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I know of no Roman examples of imagery of the dead on tombs in England, but this claim must remain tentative as it is based on negative evidence. However, CR Dodwell, Anglo-Saxon Art, 125-6, counted only six examples of any kind of carved Roman sarcophagi in England. Sally Badham, “Our Earliest English Effigies,” Church Monuments Newsletter 23, no. 2 (winter 2007/08), 9-13, found a sculpture of an abbot which she suggested was an effigy modeled on Roman designs. If this is so, it is the only such case that I have come across. See Panofsky, Tomb Sculpture, chapter two, on the personalized and biographical nature of Roman funerary imagery, which he characterizes as “retrospective” in nature. Anglo-Saxon tomb imagery does include some figure carving on slabs, but these figures are smaller scale than twelfth-century effigies, and are usually (particularly by the late Anglo-Saxon period) Christian in content. See examples in Cramp, Corpus of Anglo-Saxon Stone Sculpture in England, and discussion in Thompson, Death and Dying. Corpus of Anglo-Saxon Sculpture lists some examples of biographical epitaphs, which could include the person's name, a father's name, date of death, and possibly rank (abbot, bishop, etc.).

52 Chapter 2: Effigy and Ornament in Twelfth- and Thirteenth-century England

Despite there having been a tradition of commemorative figural sculpture in the British Isles since at least the Anglo-Saxon period, the practice of picturing the deceased on a tomb did not become accepted until the twelfth century. The study that follows suggests that the development of deceased-centered imagery on sepulchral monuments in England was stimulated by a small number of sculpted effigial memorials imported by bishops from northern Europe. After this initial reception of European examples, English clergy in the twelfth and thirteenth centuries chose or had chosen for them tomb designs that followed closely the conventions established by these twelfth-century imports. The imagery of choice for the clergy was the effigy, a sculpture of a full-length figure placed horizontally but depicted as though standing, usually under a canopy, while the rest of the stone slab was decorated with some combination of foliage, angels, and (sometimes) a beast under the feet of the figure. By assessing the trends and preferences among the English high clergy for certain types of imagery over others, and by highlighting the probable use of often overlooked features such as paint and inscriptions, this chapter provides a basis for understanding what was thought to be most advantageous to the clergy in a funerary monument.

The clergy as early patrons In Europe, tomb imagery that featured a representation of the deceased was commissioned for royalty and nobility as well as the higher clergy from at least c.1100.

53 In England, by contrast, effigies remained almost exclusively the choice of ecclesiastical patrons until well into the thirteenth century.1 Of approximately 23 effigies known to exist or to have existed in England during the first 80 years of development, roughly from c.1150 to c.1230, all but one are ecclesiastical. The one exception, the earliest surviving effigy on a non-ecclesiastical tomb in England, is that for Albericus de Ver (d.1141), who was buried at Colne Priory, Essex (Fig. 6). The simplicity with which this effigy was carved makes dating it difficult, as simplicity or crudeness does not necessarily mean an earlier date; dates assigned to it vary between c.1141 and c.1225.2 The next lay examples known are the much more sophisticated military effigy of Doulting stone made for William Longespee at Salisbury (Fig. 7), from c.1230-40,3 and King John's Purbeck effigy in Worcester cathedral, dated also to the 1230s, the earliest known royal effigy to

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3

Saul, English Church Monuments, 176, also noted the leading role of ecclesiastics in the development of the effigy. John Blair, “Purbeck Marble,” English Medieval Industries, eds. Blair and Ramsay (London, 1991), 51-2, noted that ecclesiastical patrons were the mainstay of Purbeck workshops during c.1210-1250, and then knights began to order effigies from the 1230s and later. Brieger, 100, and Rogers, “English Episcopal Monuments,” 17, also mention this phenomenon briefly. It is interesting to note also that brasses appear to have been first used by ecclesiastical figures, in the 1270s and 1280s, and were later taken up with great enthusiasm by layfolk (Blair, 52; Rogers, “English Episcopal Monuments,” 17). There is a second Albericus de Ver who died in 1194, but Badham, “Earliest English Effigies,” thinks that the lack of title 'comes Oxon' indicates it is the earlier of the two. The freestone partial effigy is now located at Bures, Suffolk. The figure is low-relief on a sunken ground with a rectangular frame around it, much like the earliest ecclesiastical effigies. Only the legs are visible, but the clothing and inscription identify it certainly as a lay effigy. Tummers, Secular Effigies, recognized the Bures effigy as the earliest-known English lay effigy, but hesitated to assign a firm date to it. He gave the effigy different dates at different points in his book, ranging from c.1200 (his n. 366), to “a very early date” (p. 35), to sometime in the first quarter of the century (his catalogue). He is certain, however, that no secular effigies appear before c.1200 (p. 5), and he thinks the Bures effigy is derivative. It is, however, the only effigy he found to which he gave a pre-1230 date. Badham suggests, however, that it dates between c.1141 and c.1160, by comparison to twelfth-century effigies in Germany. She points out that it may still be an ecclesiastical commission: it may have been commissioned by the monks at Colne Priory retrospectively, rather than by the lay family it represented. Saul, English Church Monuments, 32, dates it to no later than the third quarter of the twelfth century. See also FH Fairweather, “Colne Priory Essex and the Burials of the Earls of Oxford,” Archaeologia lxxxvii (1938), 275-95. Longespee was buried at Salisbury in 1225, but the 1230s is the earliest date Tummers felt comfortable assigning to the effigy.

54 have been made in England (Fig. 8).4 Less certainly dated, but possibly slightly earlier than these 1230s examples, are two military effigies in Temple Church.5 No doubt the destruction of monastic churches in the sixteenth century has skewed our knowledge of early lay monuments, but it also probably has lowered our count of abbatial effigies. In instances where abbots' effigies did survive the Reformation, for example at Sherborne and Peterborough Abbeys, there are no equivalent early lay effigies. The majority of surviving secular effigies are products of the second half of the thirteenth century, and it is clear that ecclesiastical patrons—particularly bishops and Benedictine abbots—were the primary patrons of the form in England for many decades.

Tomb sculpture in twelfth-century England: a scenario for development Some of the earliest-known tombs in England displaying an image of the deceased were imported to the island from workshops in or near Tournai in the twelfth century.6 The sheer sophistication of the carvings imported from the region around 4

5

6

The effigies of English royalty at Fontevraud were probably commissioned by Eleanor and carried out by French sculptors. John's choice of an effigy, it has been suggested, was a conscious decision to relate himself to his ancestors at Fontevraud; earlier English kings, as far as is known, did not have a tomb effigy. Julian Luxford, “The Tomb of King Henry I at Reading Abbey: New Evidence Concerning its Appearance and the Date of its Effigy,” Reading Medieval Studies, vol. XXX (2004), raised a necessary cautionary flag: since we have only negative evidence for royal effigies in England before King John, we must use caution in making broad claims about the English royalty not choosing effigies for their monuments. Philip Lankester's recent article, “The Thirteenth-Century Military Effigies in the Temple Church,” The Temple Church in London: History, Architecture, Art, eds. Griffith-Jones and Park (Woodbridge, 2010), 93-134, is a complete and wisely cautious study of these problematic effigies. Tummers gave conflicting dates for what he considered the earliest of these: in the catalogue, he dated it to the second quarter of the thirteenth century, and on p. 86, he dated it to the first quarter of the thirteenth century. Kemp, English Church Monuments. (London: BT Batsford, 1980), 19, posited that none of the Temple Church effigies can be definitely dated earlier than c.1220. Most agree that the slabs were exported from Tournai fully carved. Zarnecki, Early Sculpture of Ely Cathedral (London: Alec Tiranti, 1958), 41, pointed out that usually the imagery on the slabs was universal in nature so they could fulfill any commission, except those with episcopal imagery, which must have been specially commissioned. Rita Wood, “The Romanesque Tomb-slab at Bridlington

55 Tournai—tomb slabs as well as other objects such as baptismal fonts—around the middle of the twelfth century suggests that the sculptural craft was by then well-established on the northern part of the continent. By contrast, post-Conquest sculpture in England at first seems to have been largely limited to abstract and geometrical forms decorating architectural features, as are found on the interior of Durham Cathedral. More evidence for figure sculpture in England exists from the first half of the twelfth century.7 These sculptures, usually small in scale and created for architectural contexts, such as the elaborate tympana and archivolts found at the churches at Kilpeck, Ely, and Malmesbury, and the biblical frieze across the front of Lincoln Cathedral, were a far cry from the lifesized and larger figures that were beginning to adorn facades and funerary monuments in twelfth-century northern France. Rochester Cathedral's west door, with its mysterious pair of jamb statues roughly dated to c.1160, provides a rare instance of twelfth-century large-scale portal sculpture in the French manner to appear on English soil. The date and the original position of a number of c.1200 life-sized statues excavated from St Mary's Abbey, York, are debated.8 The great ranks of full-scale standing figures arrayed across

7 8

Priory,” Yorkshire Archaeological Journal 75 (2003), 63-76, suggests that the Bridlington slab also may have been specially commissioned. The Tournai marblers were permitted to trade at London, Winchester and St Ives only; there is no evidence of a workshop having been established on the island: S Inskip Ladds, “The Tournai Slab at Ely,” Transactions of the Cambridgeshire and Huntingdonshire Archaeological Society 5 (1937), 178. Freda Anderson, “The Tournai Marble Sculptures of Lewes Priory,” Sussex Archaeological Collections 122 (1984), 85-100, suspected that some simpler slabs were carved on the island, although she admitted that the effigies were imported. Elizabeth Schwartzbaum, “Three Tournai Tombslabs in England,” Gesta, vol. 20, no. 1 (1981), 89-97, discussed and summarized the research, and strengthened the argument for them being carved on the continent through stylistic comparison of the tombs to the carvings at Tournai cathedral. See also LAS Butler, “Minor Medieval Monumental Sculpture in the East Midlands,” Archaeological Journal, 121 (1964), 111-53. For a general overview of English medieval sculpture, see the surveys by A Gardner and L Stone. Williamson, Gothic Sculpture, 1140-1300 (New Haven: Yale University Press, 1995), 105, repeats the suggestion that they were interior sculptures from the chapter house, although he seems more receptive to the idea that they came from a portal. He dates them to the last decade of the twelfth century. Stone, 101, was of the opinion that they came from a portal, and dated them to the first or second decade of the

56 facades did not appear in England much before the middle of the thirteenth century, and even then were comparatively sedate and few in number compared to the extremely rich facade programs of contemporary French cathedrals. Large-scale figures in cloisters, as seen at Moissac and other French complexes, were not found in England.9 The closest parallel for twelfth-century sculpture made in England to continental funerary sculpture might be relief or freestanding devotional statues, such as the enthroned figure of the Virgin at York. Figure sculpture in instances other than effigy production is even less in evidence when our scope is narrowed to sculpture in marble-like stones. The majority of ecclesiastical effigies from c.1150-1300 were sculpted of marble-like stones, valued by patrons for their rich, dark hue. The preference for dark marbles appeared first in architectural details. In the early twelfth century, Tournai stone, called a marble because of its deep color when waxed, but actually a limestone, offered patrons a striking dark contrast with the more common building stones and any paint that may have adorned the walls. The dark stone also was used for ecclesiastical furnishings, such as fonts, a small number of which survive today.10 Tournai stone was, however, imported from Flanders, and was no doubt available only to the wealthiest of patrons. When the Purbeck quarries along the coast of Dorset began production, Purbeck stone, another dark limestone that can take a high polish, offered a more readily available local option, and seems to have 9 10

thirteenth century. With the possible exception of a figure from the cloister at Durham Cathedral: Stone, 75-6. E.g. those at Winchester and Lincoln Cathedrals. Some of these do have small-scale figure sculpture. Early use in architecture in England includes bases and shafts and some capitals at Lewes Priory, for which see Anderson, “Tournai Marble Sculptures”; and at buildings under the patronage of Bishop Henry of Blois, for which see Zarnecki, “Henry of Blois as a Patron of Sculpture,” Art and Patronage in the English Romanesque, eds. Macready and Thompson (1986), 159-72. Stone, 91, also noted the use of Tournai for architectural details in Iffley church.

57 ousted the use of Tournai stone in Britain altogether by approximately 1200.11 While dating of early Purbeck architectural details can only be approximate, John Blair believes some appeared before c.1150, even perhaps within the first 30 years of the century.12 In the last quarter of the twelfth century, with its extensive use in the rebuilding of Canterbury Cathedral after the fire of 1173, Purbeck attained widespread importance as a desirable material for architectural ornamentation. Its coastal location and therefore relative ease of transport must have helped its popularity as a decorative building material in the twelfth and thirteenth centuries. Purbeck's peculiar natural qualities, particularly its composition of tiny shelly deposits, made figure carving difficult and required sculptors who were especially skilled in shaping this intractable material. In the twelfth century a great volume of Purbeck was used for simple architectural features, such as slender shafts capped by rounded capitals and bases, the most easily carved forms given the geological limitations of the stone. Purbeck and other similar 'marble' stones were used sparsely for figure carving as 11

12

John Blair, “Purbeck Marble,” 41-56. There are many examples of ongoing use of Tournai in northern Europe, however, although the stone never lent itself to deep-relief figure carving. Instead it was used for slabs or low-relief plaques: see Monuments Funéraires XII-XVIIIè siècle: Collection du Musée d'Arras (Arras, Nov. 1993). Romans used Purbeck, but there is no evidence for medieval use of the material until the twelfth century, when it first appeared, rather tentatively, in small items in parish churches such as the shafts for fonts in Buckfastleigh Church, Devon and Kilpeck, Herefordshire. Bishop Henry of Blois began using Tournai for details at Wolvesey Palace, but switched to Purbeck between 1141 and 1154. Other early architectural appearances of Purbeck include St Cross, Winchester, also under de Blois patronage, c.1160s, and the monastic buildings at Canterbury built under Prior Wibert, c.1150. See Zarnecki, “Henry of Blois,” and Blair, “Purbeck Marble.” Blair suggested the earliest large-scale use of Purbeck was the rotunda at Temple Church, London, finished by 1161. There is documentary record of a Girardus Marbrarius in a London deed of 1106, but Blair's research led him to conclude that systematic production did not begin until the 1160s, and it entered into popular use from c.1170. By c. 1175, it had reached as far north as Durham. Rosemary Leach, An Investigation into the use of Purbeck Marble in Medieval England (Hartlepool, n.d.) lists all the known locations of Purbeck in architectural settings. See also Drury, “The Use of Purbeck Marble in Medieval Times,” Proceedings of the Dorset Natural History and Archaeological Society 70 (1948), 74-98, for an early discussion of the business of quarrying Purbeck, a discussion of its use in buildings, and a list of all the tombs known to him.

58 architectural decoration, and those that do appear, such as the corbel heads at the cathedrals in Salisbury and Rochester, date from the thirteenth century, several decades after the earliest figure sculpture in Purbeck had appeared on tombs. The taste for dark marble for tomb effigies may have been influenced by its use in architectural decoration, but sculptors seem not to have developed more advanced skills in figure carving in Purbeck until patrons commissioned such imagery for their tomb slabs. It appears, then, that neither pre-existing artistic competence in figure sculpture nor a pre-existing interest in depicting the departed (as discussed in chapter 1) generated the motif of the effigy in England. Rather, the case seems to be the reverse: the desire among patrons to obtain a funerary effigy along the same lines as those commissioned on the continent may have created a need for sculptors who could develop skills in figure carving.

The slabs imported ready-carved from Tournai demonstrate the great variety of imagery current on the continent. Only two of the extant imported slabs were carved with effigies.13 Yet of the choices of monuments imported from Tournai, the effigial slabs held the greatest appeal and were to have a rich future in England. By the thirteenth century, the effigy had become the motif of choice for the English ecclesiastical elite. It eclipsed other tomb forms, such as coped lids, which seem no longer to have been produced much

13

In addition to two Tournai slabs with effigies of the deceased (one at Westminster for an abbot, Cat. 46; another at Salisbury for a bishop, Cat. 17), patrons in England received from overseas a slab portraying in relief the Archangel Michael carrying a bishop's soul (Ely Cathedral; Fig. 9), a slab with various animals (at Bridlington Priory, for which, see Wood, “Romanesque Tomb-slab”), and a slab illustrating the Tree of Jesse (Lincoln Cathedral, Fig. 10).

59 after the turn of the thirteenth century.14 Out of approximately 48 bishops' tombs for which we have some idea of form, 30 are known to have had effigies and five others are suspected of having had effigies.15 Sculpted effigies remained a preferred option among the elite through the following centuries, even while other types of burial markers, such as a flat brass slab (which in any case usually displayed an effigy, only in two dimensions rather than three), were being manufactured.16 Given that we cannot know what losses have been suffered, it would be rash to assert that all early effigies made in England were responses to imported Tournai effigies. An archaeological find of an early Purbeck slab at St Frideswide's Priory in Oxford, for example, complicates matters. This, according to John Blair, could be the earliest known funerary monument made of Purbeck, and may date from c.1100-1130. The slab has hollow chamfer molding and, on its upper surface, an incised human face couched within a pattern of concentric half-circles.17 While Blair's study of this slab emphasizes the early

14

15

16

17

The tall chests with pyramidal lids attributed to Archbishop Hubert Walter in Canterbury (Fig. 5) and Bishop (?)Glanville in Rochester, erected early in the thirteenth century, seem to have been the last of their kind. Based on my catalogue, not including bishops' effigies in Wales, nor the retrospective series at Wells or Hereford. On the brass slabs, which were coming in to use in the second half of the thirteenth century, see Coales, ed., The Earliest English Brasses: Patronage, Style and Workshop, 1270-1350 (London: Monumental Brass Society, 1987). A significant part of the Purbeck marblers' trade in memorials were the tomb chests and flat slabs made to receive brasses: S Badham, “An interim study of the stones used for the slabs of English monumental brasses,” Transactions of the Monumental Brass Society, vol. xiii, pt. vi, no. cii (1985), 475-83; S Badham and G Blacker, Northern Rock: The Use of Egglestone Marble for Monuments in Medieval England (Oxford, 2009), esp. chapter 2. Slabs with low relief crosses also remained popular in the thirteenth and fourteenth centuries: Blair, “Purbeck Marble,” 52. Plain Purbeck lids remained an option for patrons, as well as, in lesser numbers, incised slabs with figures, e.g. Bitton at Wells (Cat. 30): Sally Badham, “'A new feire peynted stone': Medieval English Incised Slabs?” Church Monuments, vol. xix (2004), 20-52; FA Greenhill, Incised Effigial Slabs, 2 vols. (London, 1976). The cadaver tomb was a later development, but it usually existed in conjunction with a lively effigy of the same form as outlined in this chapter. Blair, “Purbeck Marble,” 50; ibid., “An Early 12 th-Century Purbeck Marble Graveslab from St Frideswide's Priory,” Oxoniensia (1988), 266-8. There are other slabs with concentric lozenges dated c.1080-1120, but the concentric circles and the appearance of a face argue for a date closer to the 1120s.

60 date as evidence of a nascent Purbeck industry, I find more curious the possibility that this may be a rare early instance of a slab made in England depicting imagery of the deceased. F.A. Greenhill credited a slab in Selston, Notts. with a crudely incised fulllength image of a priest holding a chalice (Fig. 11) as “one of the first, if not the earliest of all” gravestones showing the full human figure.18 He tentatively dated this slab to c.1100. The two incised figures are exciting glimmers of early attempts to represent the deceased, but the effigial tombs that developed in England around the middle of the twelfth century took up the more three-dimensional forms that were being imported from northern Europe. The following close analysis of the early English effigies in relation to the Tournai imports helps to set out a relative timeline of production, and establishes the importance of the European influence on early effigial development in England. The two Tournai effigies that survive in England represent an abbot of Westminster (Cat. 46), unfortunately heavily damaged, and a bishop of Salisbury (Cat. 17), more elaborate in design and much better preserved. The worn state of the Tournai effigy at Westminster leaves very little for comparison, though in its more general features it is similar to its counterpart at Salisbury. Both slabs are tapered and have a wide border framing the effigy, and both effigies rise only gently in relief from a sunken ground, so that neither protrudes above the surface of the border. Indeed, the trapezoidal

18

Blair notes that the Oxford head shares a marginal hollow-chamfer motif, not yet popular, with Henry the priest's effigy at Tolpuddle (Cat. 58) and the coped slab at Winchester (Fig. 4). There is no indication on the slab as to whom it might represent, although Blair suggests the saint herself. Greenhill, vol. II, 3 and fig.16b. He did not discuss the evidence for the date in detail, nor did he specify the slab's material, but the northerly location suggests it is not Purbeck. The chasuble is pointed like on the effigy at Exeter (Cat. 6), and like the sculpture of an abbot near Bath addressed by Sally Badham, “Earliest English Effigies.” The faces at Selston and at Oxford are triangular and very simple, and bear resemblance to some late eleventh- and early twelfth-century sculptures noted in English Romanesque Art, 1066-1200: Hayward Gallery, London, 5 April-8 July 1984 (London, 1984), nos. 99, 100, 103. A similar date for the two would not be out of line.

61 shape, low relief, sunken ground, and wide border are hallmarks of many of the carved Tournai slabs exported to England. Differences in stylistic treatment of the figures are clear, however, between the two effigies. Later effigies would inherit aspects of both. The exquisite nature of the Salisbury effigy of Tournai stone (Cat. 17) demonstrates an accomplished hand especially comfortable with delicate surface detail. The figure of the bishop itself is relatively small, surrounded not just by a plain border but also by a wide border of inhabited rinceaux. A dragon curls below him, and he stands on a corbel and under a small pointed arch. The figure is in extremely low relief, narrow, and the arms are kept close to the body so that the right hand, held in front of the chest in a gesture of benediction, is bent awkwardly at the wrist. The drapery hangs close to the body, with the chasuble wrapped around the sides of the figure like a cloak, a result of the arms held tightly to the chest. Emphasis here is not on the volumes of cloth or on the body beneath it, but on the various textures and decorative details found on the cloth. These small-scale decorative features link this effigy with the St Michael slab of Tournai stone in Ely (Fig. 9), and also with the Tournai capitals and portal decoration at Tournai Cathedral itself.19 For the overall shape of the figure, a close match is found on a slab in the church of St-Memmie near Châlons-sur-Marne supposedly marking the grave of St Memmius, so much so that they may have been made at the same workshop at more or less the same time (Fig. 12).20 St Memmius's slab has a rinceaux border with similar leaf type, a beast of similar sinuous design below the corbel, and a canopy over the abbot's head. Damage across the main part of the figure makes other comparisons difficult, but 19 20

See Schwartzbaum, “Three Tournai Tombslabs,” for the comparisons to Tournai cathedral. Hugh Shortt, “The Three Bishops' Tombs Moved to Salisbury Cathedral from Old Sarum,” Friends of Salisbury Cathedral Report (1971), 2, 4; Schwartzbaum, n.17; Bauch, 35.

62 the crosier is held the same way and the feet and lower hems of the garments display the same arrangement as at Salisbury.21 One detail may help to date the Salisbury and Châlons effigies: the small curls shown in the hem of the alb, a mannered conventional device meant to represent the gathering of drapery between the lower legs. A similar feature appears on a few twelfth-century English episcopal seals, in miniature form and of metalwork, dating from the 1140s.22 The Salisbury effigy most likely dates to c.1150, but the Tournai abbot at Westminster seems to have been made a little later in the century.23 The body of the Westminster abbot fills the sunken ground completely, leaving no room for delicate rinceau detail, and the effigy seems to lack an architectural canopy or an animal at his feet, giving the body much more prominence in its frame. The major development between this and the Salisbury effigy is in the posture of the figure and the drapery treatment. On the Westminster effigy, the arm breaks free from the main outline of the body so that the hand holding the crosier is raised up above the shoulder. In what 21

22

23

It is unfortunate that the Memmius head is worn and that it is not mitred, as it could have provided valuable information regarding the now-lost Tournai head of the bishop at Salisbury. This is admittedly difficult to reconcile given that the seals were presumably made in England while the slabs were made in Europe, but the convention is unmistakably present in both formats, and disappears later in the twelfth century from seals and from effigies. On the seals, rather than the inverted u-shape seen on the effigy, the inward-curling loops of hemline are more rounded. See the seals for Bishop Nigel at Ely (between 1133-69, probably early in that range: W de G Birch, Catalogue of the Seals in the Department of Manuscripts in the British Museum (London, 1887), no. 1491), and Archbishop Theobald's c.1144 seal at Canterbury (Birch, no. 1173). For the Salisbury effigy, see Schwartzbaum, whose argument supports Zarnecki's hypothesis that the three Tournai slabs at Salisbury, Ely, and Lincoln were ordered by the same person for three bishops of the same family, probably by Bishop Alexander of Lincoln just before his death in 1148. When they were actually made and installed, however, is difficult to pin down, but an approximate date of 1150 seems likely. See however F Anderson, “The Tournai marble tomb-slabs in Salisbury Cathedral,” Medieval Art and Architecture at Salisbury Cathedral (Leeds, 1996), 87, who suggested not “earlier than the 1170s.” Sally Badham, “Earliest English Effigies,” prefers Anderson's date. The Westminster abbot is not discussed by Schwartzbaum. F Anderson, “Westminster,” thought some stylistic details point to a date after the 1160s for the Westminster abbot. It thus seems that she thought the Salisbury effigy was made after the Westminster effigy. Saul, English Church Monuments, 29-30, agrees with Anderson regarding the Westminster effigy, but believes that the Salisbury effigy dates c.1140-50.

63 remaining detail can be seen from the less-worn edges, the cloth of the sleeve falls down in multiple (albeit incised) ripples, and the chasuble reveals evidence of the sculptor's awareness of curving, horizontal folds which result from the pull of the cloth around the bent arms. These two imported Tournai effigies are generally dated somewhere between c.1150 and c.1170. Effigies made locally, of English stone, that can be dated with reasonable certainty to the twelfth century include a bishop at Exeter (Cat. 6), a bishop at Salisbury (Cat. 18), an abbot at Sherborne (Cat. 55), two abbots at Peterborough (Cats. 48, 49), and a priest at Tolpuddle, Dorset (Cat. 58). Sally Badham has suggested that a sculpture of an abbot on the exterior of St Nicholas' church, Bathampton (Somerset) might have been another early tomb effigy.24 A medieval documentary reference to the now-lost tomb of Abbot Anselm at Bury (d.1148; Cat. 61) suggests that at least one more effigy existed in England around mid-century.25 It is regrettable that Anselm's effigy does not survive, since being able to associate

24

25

Badham, “Earliest English Effigies.” I have not seen this sculpture myself, nor did Badham provide its dimensions in her article. It is also not entirely clear that this was an effigy. She dates it early, “unlikely to date from much later than c.1100,” based on the style of chasuble, suggesting it might be the effigy of Abbot John Villula (d. 1122) buried at Bath Abbey; an effigy of him was seen by Leland. The sculpture may indeed represent John, but I hesitate to assign it to such an early date. It shows more relief than Exeter (Cat. 6) and Tolpuddle (Cat. 58), but the chasuble shape and the folds of drapery show it to be similar to both. She does not make the comparison to Exeter or Tolpuddle in her article. Saul, English Church Monuments, 29-30, suggests a date in the third or fourth decades of the twelfth century, but he also did not make the comparison to other English tombs. Based on these two lower relief comparisons, I might argue a date closer to the 1160s. Zarnecki, Romanesque Sculpture at Lincoln, n. 229, where he quoted the benefactions of Abbot Anselm from a Douai manuscript: “sepultus est in capella infirmarie exterius versus occidentem ex parte aquilonali inter duas columpnas sub lapide marmoreo cum imagine mitrata suprascripta,” i.e. under a marble stone with a mitred image above it. Whether this was made of Purbeck or Tournai is difficult to say; if it was commissioned around Anselm's death, it could easily have been either, although St Edmunds was far enough away from Dorset that at this early stage a Tournai effigy might have been more likely. The earliest Purbeck effigies were relatively confined to the southwest of England. Zarnecki suggested that the missing effigy for Abbot Anselm was Tournai.

64 an early effigy with an individual is rare. The only effigy from the twelfth century that can be securely identified is that made for Abbot Clement of Sherborne, who died c.1163, and whose name was inscribed on the canopy over the head of the effigy (Cat. 55). Even with a name to attach to an effigy, however, the date of death of the deceased does not necessarily indicate the date of manufacture of his memorial. Given this and the general lack of identification of the extant effigies, stylistic analysis emerges as the best option for dating, though this, too, presents problems, not least of which is the condition in which an effigy might have survived. Clement's effigy survives only in fragments, just the head and part of the canopy, and valuable stylistic information that could have been derived from the figure shape and drapery has been lost. Adding to the challenge of dating is the lack of other English large-scale figure sculpture as comparanda. Scholars trying to establish a viable chronology of effigies have proffered dates for some early sculptures that vary by as much as half a century from each other.26 Another problem is that the surviving twelfth-century effigies produced in England exhibit a variety of styles and levels of competence, a result perhaps of lack of established local convention for large-scale horizontal memorials, and therefore it is difficult to make correlations even within the genre. Despite these cautions, the following comparison of the earliest English-made effigies to the imported Tournai slabs and to each other is intended to establish a relative timeline of production, based in part on choice and execution of 26

See as an example the early Purbeck effigy at Exeter (Cat. 6). Drury, “Early Ecclesiastical Effigies,” 254, gave it a date early in the century, even around c.1100. A Gardner, 153, gave the Exeter slab a c.1180 date, as did Bauch, 82. Bauch's discussion places it first among English-made effigies. Blair, “Purbeck Marble,” 51, says the 1160s and beyond is when we start to see a “regular series of effigies and slabs in Purbeck marble,” including this one as one of the earliest. For other examples of widely varying dates, see the literature on the effigies at Salisbury which were brought over from Old Sarum (Cats. 17, 18), and the literature regarding the identity of the three abbots' tombs in the cloister at Westminster (Cats. 45-47).

65 motifs, and, in a necessarily general sense, on figure and drapery style. A bishop's effigy at Exeter (Cat. 6), for example, can be identified as one of the earliest made in Purbeck based on similarities in motif, although not in level of skill, to the Tournai monument at Salisbury (Cat. 17).27 Both of these effigies can be characterized as barely rising out of the block of stone from which they are carved. This impression is intentional, as they are cut from a sunken background, the effigy barely (if at all) rising above the 'frame' that is left in relief around it. The pose of the two bishops, with the blessing hand held in front of the chest, palm turned outward, and arms held close into the body, is similar, as is the simple curl of the crook of the crosier. The relatively small stature of both effigies in relation to the slab as compared to later effigies is also comparable. The vestments are given similar emphases, the chasubles having a sharply pointed tongue, the borders and U-shape of the front of the dalmatic forming distinct layers of cloth over the alb. The capitals supporting the arch of the canopy are simple volutes in both cases. The face of the Salisbury Tournai effigy would have been a significant factor in a comparison with the early Purbeck effigy at Exeter, and its loss is lamentable. While the effigies share some basic similarities of form, the surrounding ornament differs. The Tournai slab is decorated with complicated and technically demanding interlaced foliage, while a simpler rectangular raised 'frame' ornaments the edges of the

27

This effigy is identified as one of the earliest made in England by Drury, “Early Ecclesiastical Effigies,” 254 and Blair, “Purbeck Marble,” 51. But see Shortt, “Three Bishops' Tombs,” 3, who did not mention the Exeter effigy and instead said the Purbeck Salisbury effigy (Cat. 18), with exception of Clement at Sherborne (Cat. 55), was probably the first “English portrait of a prelate to be placed on his tomb.” Badham, “Earliest English Effigies,” believes the sculpture of local freestone found at Bathampton, Somerset to be the oldest effigy, c.1122.

66 Purbeck slab. The spandrels of the Purbeck slab are filled with two small angels, the earliest surviving instance of angels appearing with an effigy on an English tomb, and in fact the only ones known on any of the twelfth century English effigies. Where the Purbeck effigy differs most significantly from that in Tournai stone is in the lack of small surface details on the figure itself. The Tournai effigy displays carefully detailed sculptured renditions of woven or embroidered cloth, while the surface of the drapery on the Exeter bishop is enlivened only by the clumsy linear v-pattern of the folds. These folds across the front of the body and the awkward curving lines indicating the shape of the arms and shoulders suggest that the Exeter sculptor was not practiced in rendering volume in large-scale figure sculpture. These peculiarities, along with the lack of attempt at surface detail and the simplified choice of decorative forms, indicate that the sculptor was learning to work in Purbeck with the Tournai effigial slab, or one very like it, as his model, perhaps around 1160. An effigy of a priest in Tolpuddle, Dorset, has also been identified as one of the earliest Purbeck effigies (Cat. 58). Although much damaged, the design of the drapery of the figure resembles the drapery on the Exeter bishop, rendered in sharp triangular folds over the shoulders and the chasuble ending in a point. The hands, face, and area above the head are too damaged to determine original details, but it is possible that like the Exeter effigy, a rudimentary canopy, perhaps with angels, was once in place. The edges of the slab are hollow chamfered with an incised inscription, a type which became much more popular in England than the European rectangular frame as seen on the Tournai imports and the Exeter bishop (e.g. Cats. 17, 46, 6).

67 The effigy of Abbot Clement at Sherborne (Cat. 55), of which only the head and canopy survives, is another early work in the medium of Purbeck stone, but demonstrates even in the small fraction that survives more interest in the fullness of the human form than the effigies at Exeter and Tolpuddle. Both faces at Sherborne and at Exeter are triangular in overall shape, but differ in execution. Both figures are bearded, for example, but the deeply grooved cross-hatching which leaves a raised lattice-pattern to represent the beard on the Exeter bishop is a more rudimentary solution to the challenge of sculpting hair than that achieved for the Sherborne abbot, whose hair, though incised and carved closely to his head, falls in detailed separated locks.28 The extreme low relief in which the Exeter bishop is carved also possibly indicates an earlier date than the effigy at Sherborne, where the figure (or at least the head) is raised more robustly from the slab. The architectural niche around the head of the abbot's effigy at Sherborne, like the head itself, was raised several centimeters above the slab, in contrast to the sunken relief at Exeter. Unfortunately, a comparison between the abbot at Sherborne and the Tournai effigy at Salisbury to help solidify a date or stylistic genesis is impossible given their current states, with the former retaining only the head and the latter having had the head replaced at a later date. In general, however, the choice of raised relief and increased volume on the effigy at Sherborne is more in line with the later effigies produced in England, and perhaps on that basis can be given a slightly later date than the Exeter effigy. An effigy of dark stone now in Lisieux Cathedral (Fig. 13) seems to be a 28

The grooved cross-hatched beard is also found on the head from the tomb of Ogier the Dane at Meaux, although each raised portion on the French example has been further articulated with smaller grooves to indicate individual hairs. This has been tentatively dated to c.1160 by Sauerländer, 396-7, pl. 29.

68 transitional piece, incorporating elements seen on the low-relief, self-contained Tournai effigy at Salisbury and its Purbeck derivative at Exeter (Cats. 17 and 6), with the deeper relief found in other Purbeck effigies, for example the Purbeck bishop in Salisbury (Cat. 18). Carved from a dark, polishable stone, probably Purbeck, the Lisieux effigy is likely to have been the product of an English workshop.29 In common with the Exeter effigy, this example exhibits a compact pose with arms close to the body and hands held awkwardly in front of the chest, a triangular head, a small mitre, a crosier with a simple curl at the top, and a beast at the feet. The drapery is rendered in incised lines, though the fabric flows more elegantly in curves than on the Exeter effigy. In fact, these curves are very like those on the Tournai abbot at Westminster as it once would have looked. In its protrusion from the slab, however, and the subordination of the architectural surround to the main figure, the Lisieux effigy is very close to the Purbeck effigy at Salisbury (Cat. 18). Both of the bishops' figures dominate the slab with a low, wide torso and narrow, elongated head that reaches to the very top of the slab. The mitre on both effigies overlaps the gently curving arch towards the top of the slab, and colonnettes at the sides of the two effigies are in lower relief than the figures themselves. The Purbeck effigy at Salisbury (Cat. 18), however, differs in its pose from the Tournai effigy at the same church, the Purbeck effigy at Exeter, and the Purbeck figure at Lisieux. Here, both arms are raised and the hands held up outside the line of the torso, the right hand held in a gesture of blessing and the left hand holding the crosier out to the left

29

Bauch, 82, illustrates and gives brief discussion, including comparison to Exeter and Salisbury. Gardner, 152, n. 1, and Blair, “Purbeck Marble,” 44, based on Philip Lankester's observation, say the abbot's effigy is made of Purbeck, and therefore could have been made in England and exported. Blair and Lankester date the effigy to c.1170-80.

69 side of the body. This has the effect of allowing the chasuble to fall evenly down the front and the back sides of the figure, with no folds gathered around the front of the body. Like other early Purbeck effigies, the surface treatment of the Salisbury effigy is remarkably simple, with only a few incised lines indicating the fall of cloth. The rise of the stomach and hips is hinted at, not through relative depth of the stone but through a small number of incised demi-circles. The ophrey and—a feature appearing here for the first time in Purbeck—the apparel on the chest are also drawn on the surface with incised lines. The Salisbury effigy appears to draw on another artistic source: early episcopal seal matrices, many of which, especially around the middle of the twelfth century, illustrate the episcopal figure in miniature with both arms outstretched and the chasuble falling neatly into a tongue-like shape down the front of the body. 30 The figure pose and chasuble shape are echoed on the seal made for Bishop Jocelin of Salisbury (d.1184; Fig. 14), while the seal made for Ralph, Archbishop of Canterbury (1114-22; Fig. 15) has incised semicircular motifs on the chest. The smooth, tongue-shaped chasuble with incised folds begins to disappear on seals by about 1180, replaced by asymmetrical protruding folds. As with seals, the broad, smooth spread of the figure and the simple incised detail on the Salisbury effigy was quickly abandoned in favor of more elaborate decorative techniques. The stance of the figure, however, with arms held out beyond the main outline of the

30

This pose and treatment of the chasuble appears on most seals up to c.1200, e.g. on seals of William de St Carilef, Bishop of Durham, 1080-95; Osbern, Bishop of Exeter, seal made by 1087 (Hayward, no. 338); Theobald, Archbishop of Canterbury, c.1144; Hubert Walter of Canterbury (EEA 18, pl. vii, as Bishop of Salisbury); Nigel, Ely 1133-69; Robert, Bishop of Bath, seal by 1156 (Hayward, no. 343); Robert de Chesney, Lincoln, 1148-67; Richard of Canterbury, 1177-84; Bishop Bartholomew of Exeter, d.1184; Gilbert Glanville at Rochester; and, a late example, Bishop Savaric (d.1205). Since Bishop Jocelin of Salisbury's seal is of this style, it lends credence to the suggestion that the effigy is of Jocelin (EEA 18, Salisbury, pl.vii). The chasuble begins to be treated differently on seals, with asymmetrical folds, c.1180, and becomes more capacious and falls with more breaks by c.1220.

70 body, became popular in the thirteenth century. The increased relief of the Purbeck Salisbury and Lisieux figures may indicate a later date of production than the Tournai effigy at Salisbury and the Purbeck bishop at Exeter, but two abbots' effigies at Peterborough demonstrate more conclusively the trend from two to three dimensions and from incised details to those rendered with volume (Cats. 48, 49). Both Peterborough effigies are made of Alwalton Lynch, a stone which exhibits similar qualities to Purbeck but which was quarried, and therefore probably carved, locally. In style and motif the two effigies demonstrate general similarities to each other, but are of different dates. The similarities speak of a desire on the part of the sculptor (or patron) of the later effigy (Cat. 49) to emulate the earlier of the two (Cat. 48). Each can be generally characterized as having smooth, rounded surfaces, with bodies curving gently in profile from the slab, but the drapery on the older of the two is more rudimentary, with incised lines delineating the folds of the cloth. The sculptor of the later effigy took more care to express volume in the body, particularly in his eschewal of the incised line for the drapery in favor of folds emerging from the slab in gentle undulations, in what may be the earliest instance of such drapery treatment on an English tomb. The treatment of hair also represents a great shift from the more stylized approach seen on the earlier effigy, where each lock, though more voluminous than the locks on Abbot Clement's effigy (Cat. 55), is symmetrically carved with grooved strands terminating in a tight curl, to a much more natural approach on the later effigy at Peterborough, where the hair and beard flow freely, and hang thickly in asymmetrical locks. In pose, too, the second effigy is less rigid, holding his crosier out to the side rather than in front of, and

71 close to, the body. The sculptor has responded to this shift in stance by arranging the chasuble, usually shown with folds arranged symmetrically, to pull a little to the abbot's right. Both effigies also stand encased in more detailed and more visibly prominent architectural niches than have yet been seen on English effigial slabs, one under a trefoiled arch and the other under a wide cinquefoiled arch. Both niches are further elaborated by an extensive architectural 'frieze' carved in relief above. The technical accomplishment of the sculptor of the later monument is evident in the increased level of detail in the architectural niche and frieze. These developments, when compared to the other surviving twelfth-century effigies, suggest that the Peterborough effigies are most likely products of the last three decades of the twelfth century. Even these more advanced adaptations of the effigial slab demonstrate some affiliation with Tournai models. The incredible detail lavished on the architectural backdrops for the two Peterborough abbots has a counterpart in a Tournai slab with St Michael and a bishop's soul at Ely (Fig. 9).31 On each of the Peterborough slabs, the sculptors created a complicated row of towers, peaked roofs, and pinnacles, adorned with rounded arch openings layered in multiple storeys. The Tournai example at Ely is significantly more detailed, complete with lines for ashlar masonry, more elaborate window openings and arcades, and individually carved tiles on roofs, but the proximity of the Benedictine cathedral at Ely to the Benedictine abbey of Peterborough invites speculation that the sculptor at Peterborough saw the Tournai slab at Ely and attempted a

31

Other early effigies with similar architectural details to the Tournai example at Ely include the effigy of a deacon in Avon Dassett in the Midlands (Cat. 38) and the fragment of a Purbeck effigy of an abbot in Great Staughton, Hunts (Cat. 44), showing head and canopy only, similar to the Peterborough ones in that the niche is cinquefoiled and there is an architectural frieze behind.

72 similar work. The pose of the second abbot at Peterborough (Cat. 49) resembles the pose of the Tournai abbot at Westminster (Cat. 46), with the crosier held out at the side of the body so that the arm extends beyond the outline of the torso. The extra thickness of stone on his chest suggests that the Tournai abbot held a book in his left hand, as do both abbots at Peterborough.

Development into the thirteenth century In general the trend in the thirteenth century was towards a greater emphasis on the three-dimensional nature of the body, with effigies rising boldly in deep relief from the slab. Carved surface ornament, as so competently created on the Tournai effigy at Salisbury (Cat. 17), was attempted on a small number of early thirteenth-century effigies, but generally speaking, detailed ornament disappeared in favor of greater volume in cloth and in figure. The now much-damaged surface of an early thirteenth-century effigy at Exeter (Cat. 7) reveals that the sculptor attempted ornament on almost all surfaces of the vestments in order accurately to portray woven and embroidered fabrics of rich design. Tiny carved depressions along the borders of the garments and on the shoes and mitre indicate the one-time presence of applied ornament, probably colored, to simulate pearls and precious stones. The split and sheared damage to the surface of this effigy is testimony to the unsuitability of Purbeck to this highly decorative ornament and no doubt explains the rarity of effigies of this level of detail. A third Exeter effigy (Cat. 8), now in the choir, demonstrates the other extreme, with smooth plain surfaces and bold, simple forms.

73 The more typical thirteenth-century ecclesiastical effigy maintained a compromise between plain and richly decorated surfaces. The vestments tended to have smooth surfaces, with certain details picked out in relief or by incised lines. A carved morse at the throat, a jeweled mitre, tassels, and raised decorative borders along the hems of robes were more typical representations of the elaborate ornamentation of liturgical vestments. Toward the end of the thirteenth century, vestments served as a field for demonstrating sculptural talent in rendering volume, with much more attention paid to the behavior of cloth than the display of virtuosity in rendering in stone the texture and ornament of actual liturgical vestments. Stylistic development in the thirteenth century has been welldiscussed by art historians, but a feature that gets little notice is the tendency, around mid-century, for sculptors to render the voluminous folds of the chasuble as multiple waves of cloth where the fabric hangs below the arms. Chasubles were, in fact, voluminous, and in the second half of the century, velvet, much thicker than silk, became a favored fabric.32 It is tempting to speculate that the heavy broader folds seen developing in sculpture through the thirteenth century could be attributed to the change in actual fabric, which may have served as the sculptor's model. However, the surfaces of the velvet cloth were as heavily embroidered and decorated as ever, so the shift from ornamented to smooth surfaces on the carved representations of vestments suggests a different approach to representing the fabric on an effigy: patterns could be painted on the smooth carved surfaces of the cloth instead of being carved.33 Thirteenth-century sculptors of English ecclesiastical effigies often demonstrated 32

33

Elisabeth Crowfoot, Frances Pritchard, Kay Staniland, Textiles and Clothing c.1150-c.1450 (Woodbridge: The Boydell Press, 2001, new edition). Also suggested by A Gardner, 157-8.

74 their skill on rich, curving stiff-leaf foliage or on delicately detailed architectural features. In particular, the architectural framework, apparently a desirable feature since it appeared on all of the English twelfth-century effigies except for one, was taken up with great enthusiasm. Along with increased interest in expressing volume of the body came a greater emphasis on the three-dimensionality of the surrounding framing devices, so that ultimately the sunken ground/squared frame option that had appeared with frequency in twelfth-century Europe (especially Germany and France) and that also framed the Tournai abbot at Westminster, was rejected.34 By the mid-thirteenth century, English tomb canopies were raised high off the slab to surround the figure's head protectively (e.g. Cats. 4, 12, 36).The canopy consisted of a main, usually gabled, opening around the figure's head, some with multiple facets and with multiple miniature gables and openings (Cats. 15, 35). On some effigies, the canopy provided opportunity to express great virtuosity, as for example the delicately but completely ornamented canopy above the head of the bishop's effigy on the north side of Rochester's chancel (Cat. 15). Nodding canopies were also sculpted (Cats. 15, 16, 21, 31, 35, 56, 57), and could be undercut so that they have the effect of openwork (Cat. 35). Drawing still from twelfth-century examples (Cats. 38, 48, 49; Fig. 9), the sculptor sometimes included a series of roofs and

34

There are several examples of these especially in Germany and France: the low-relief effigies Frankish rulers now at St-Denis (e.g. Childebert, Sauerländer, 411, pl. 49); a c.1200 abbot formerly in the abbey church of Nesle-le-Riposte (Sauerländer, 41; Bauch, 63); three abbess's effigies in St Servatius, Quedlinburg (Bauch, 22-4; K Blough, “The Abbatial Effigies at Quedlinburg: A Convent's Identity Reconfigured,” Gesta 47/2 (2008), 147-69); and the sculptured figure of Abbot Durandus at Moissac, placed upright on a cloister pier (Fig. 30). The frame may be explained by practices in metalwork, e.g. relief panels on shrines and altar frontals. The Gaignières drawing of the metal effigy of Bishop Philip de Dreux at Beauvais (Bauch, 76) makes the parallel between metalwork and effigies clear, with a bejeweled frame around the effigy. It appears that few European effigies before the thirteenth century have frames formed of architectural features. The earliest European ecclesiastical tomb that I have seen with an architectural feature is that for Evrard de Fouilloy, Amiens (died c.1222).

75 towers behind the primary opening. Bishop Hugh of Northwold's canopy (Cat. 3) has towers behind the main gable shown perpendicular to the slab, in another plane entirely from the main niche, and on the c.1265 tomb of Bishop Bridport at Salisbury (Cat. 20), two crenellated ashlar towers flank the main gable and are joined together by a crenellated roof perpendicular to the gable.35 Colonnettes supporting the canopy along each side of the figure by the mid-thirteenth century could be detached completely from the slab (Cats. 2, 4, 12, 36, and, later in the century, Cats. 15, 16, 35). An extremely elaborate treatment of multiple miniature gabled niches was carved in the pilasters along the sides of the figure of Bishop Hugh of Northwold at Ely (Cat. 3). Examples of lowrelief architectural surrounds in later thirteenth-century England are so rare their appearance is surprising, as on the effigies of bishops Aquablanca at Hereford (Cat. 10) and Bronescombe at Exeter (Cat. 9), especially as the high quality of these tombs proves that the more moderate shape was not due to artistic limitations. The micro-architecture on tombs allowed sculptors to demonstrate their skills in replicating in miniature the architectural details that were carved on grander scale in the cathedrals and abbey churches and which appeared in metalwork objects made for devotional use. Foliage surrounding the figure became an important addition to tomb imagery in the thirteenth century. It appeared only once on the extant twelfth-century examples (Cat. 17), in the form of densely intertwining vines compressed to form a rectangular 'frame' around the effigy. Some effigy slabs from the first part of the thirteenth century had, instead, modest repeating patterns of stiff-leaf sprigs along the outer edges of the slab, 35

This form of decoration seems to have stopped occurring by c.1270. Besides Bridport, see the tiled roof at the back of the nodding canopy with corbel heads at Sherborne (Cat. 56, 1260-70), and a damaged effigy at Peterborough (Cat. 52) that evidently once had towers or pinnacles on either side of the gable.

76 seemingly growing upwards from the tomb chest and just beginning to creep onto the edges of the slab. Two early essays in foliate edging are at Exeter (Cat. 7) and Salisbury the c.1230 tomb for William Longespee at Salisbury (Fig. 7). Sprays of simple, bulbous rounded leaves and stems are symmetrically arranged along the sides of the effigy for Bishop Bingham (c.1246; Cat. 19) at Salisbury and the edges of a bishop's effigy at Wells (Cat. 28; ?1240s). Other foliate details were limited to the niche capitals and to the heads of crosiers, in miniature imitation of full-size architectural capitals and crosiers in actual use. More exuberant thick, deeply undercut, curling stems which branch off into smaller sinuous strands and terminate in fleshy, rounded leaves such as would become popular in the mid-thirteenth century are first found on the five retrospective tombs for bishops at Wells, made of Doulting stone (Cats. 23-27; ?1210s). The varied compositions at Wells mark a breakthrough in tomb design, using foliage either as a three-dimensional frame around the head or in combination with an architectural canopy. Most of the effigies carved with foliage are of Purbeck, and mark a particularly rich phase of Purbeck carving. Foliate carving in Purbeck or other stones with similar marble-like properties appeared in architectural contexts from c.1160 up until c.1275, in capitals of columns, responds, and shafts.36 Particularly rich variety in early stiff-leaf sprays appeared in the presbytery of Chichester Cathedral by 1199. Ely Cathedral's retrochoir, dedicated in 1252, was the next great demonstration of virtuosity with Purbeck foliage with its unusual cones of vegetation at the base of the vault responds as well as

36

Foliage appears in Purbeck church capitals from the late twelfth century (e.g. Temple Church nave, St Cross at Winchester, Canterbury's post-fire work in the southeast transept and Trinity Chapel).

77 exuberant foliate capitals at arcade, gallery and clerestory levels. 37 Foliage as a major decorative feature of Purbeck effigial tombs developed by c.1230 at Worcester, where entwining vines are used in place of an architectural surround (Cats. 33, 34), and reached its height in the middle decades of the thirteenth century. Bishop Northwold's tomb at Ely (Cat. 3) is a magnificent example of luxurious foliate motifs. The many varied miniature Purbeck stiff-leaf capitals on the tomb are similar in character to the great variety of Purbeck capitals in the contemporary eastern bays of the church. But unlike the colonnettes in the east end of the building, the colonnettes on the effigy slab are fully enveloped by a thick, inhabited interlace, perhaps intended as an updated version of the twelfth-century carved shafts and arches around the portals at Ely leading from the monastic quarters to the church.38 The gable over the main figure and the individual small niches at either side of the canopy are also richly endowed with foliate motifs, particularly the multi-layered lacy crockets on each of the gables. By c.1250, foliage often served a functional as well as ornamental role on tomb slabs, in that the grouped bunches of leaves were arranged as stone spurs to help support the colonnettes, which by then were raised off the slab entirely and carved in the round. This occurs on four effigies of the 1250s (Cats. 2, 4, 12, 36), on a rather clumsy effigy of a prior at Winchester (Cat. 59), on two late thirteenth-century bishops' effigies at Rochester (Cats. 15, 16), and a late thirteenth-century effigy at Worcester (Cat. 35). Lush outgrowths of foliage could also appear below the feet, forming vegetal corbels 37

38

Lincoln's Angel Choir is equally sumptuously adorned with foliage, but utilizes considerably fewer Purbeck capitals. Similar decoration is also found at Reading Abbey (c.1125, Hayward, no. 127s) and Wolvesey Palace, (c.1140-50, Hayward, no. 147a and b). It may be an intentionally anachronistic feature. Binski, Becket's Crown, 100, feels the foliage is a nod towards Ely's Anglo-Saxon saint, Etheldreda.

78 supporting the plinth on which the effigies stand (Cats. 2, 4, 11, 12, 34). By the 1260s, this exuberance began to lessen. Bishop Aymer’s heart memorial at Winchester (Cat. 31) features small, evenly spaced individual leaves which curl around the moldings of the mandorla and of the trefoil-headed arch. But where the foliage on the tombs from the 1240s-50s had been formed of stiff-leaf clumps of curling, succulent, tri-lobed leaves, those on the heart memorial are less so, and seem more of a nod to an existing feature rather than a full expression of a new idea. Foliage with more naturalistic qualities than stiff-leaf appeared in architectural contexts in England in a few instances at Westminster, Lincoln, and Windsor from 124060, but became popular in England from the late 1270s.39 Pointed rather than rounded, tri-lobed leaves appear sporadically on tombs from the 1240s. At Salisbury, the crosiers on the tombs of bishops Bingham (Cat. 19) and Bridport (Cat. 20) terminate at the crook in a leaf of a slightly pointed variety, and ivy creeps up the staffs of an abbot at Peterborough (Cat. 51) and of Bishop Bronescombe at Exeter (Cat. 9). Bronescombe's effigy features a variety of leaf types, but they are subtly placed, and in general, effigial tombs after c.1280 do not emphasize foliate designs.40 Three Purbeck effigies (Cats. 15, 16, 35) from the last quarter of the thirteenth century are among the last of the surviving effigies to incorporate foliate ornament. They are also among the last highly ornamented Purbeck effigies to be produced. A thirteenth-century ecclesiastical effigy is almost always accompanied by angels,

39

40

Jean Givens, “The Garden Outside the Walls: Plant Forms in Thirteenth-Century English Sculpture,” Medieval Gardens (Dumbarton Oaks, 1986), 189-214. The c.1280 tomb chest of Bishop Cantilupe at Hereford is the most extensive example of detailed and varied leaf forms on a tomb. However, the foliage is on the chest and superstructure, not on an effigy.

79 usually in the corners of the slab on either side of the prelate's head. While only one effigy from the twelfth century had angels (Cat. 6), in the thirteenth century, angels became a common feature which was to last well into the fifteenth century. The twelfthcentury angels at Exeter, awkwardly fitted into the spandrels of the pointed arch over the effigy's head, seem to have flown in from the side of the slab. They are shown hovering in a sideways posture in the same plane as the effigy, holding censers out towards the bishop's head. The basic features for thirteenth-century development are present in this early arrangement, but the increasingly adept sculptors in the thirteenth century were able to demonstrate originality and skill by experimenting with pose and rendering in miniature details such as toes and feathered wings. A number of effigies from the first half of the thirteenth century portrayed the angels frontally, with wings spread behind them, in a static and generally symmetrical pose, such as the angels on a bishop's effigy at Salisbury (Cat. 19) and at Exeter (Cat. 8). These are in much lower relief than the effigy, lying flat on the slab in the same plane as the effigy, and are housed in separate gabled openings. Some angels from the first half of the century were portrayed as if flying in from above, swooping down with a thurible from the top corners of the slab towards the bishop, as on the Worcester Purbeck effigy (Cat. 34). Others from their position in the spandrels either stand on or step up the slope of the canopy, as the pair of angels made for the effigies at York (Cat. 36), and Exeter (Cat. 7).41 The sculptor was not limited to a symmetrical pairing, as seen at Temple Church (Cat. 13), at Exeter (Cat. 6), or on a bishop's effigy at Llandaff, where one angel is seated and faces frontally while the

41

Other standing angels appear on the effigy for Bishop Anselm at St David's, apparently with damp-fold drapery, both facing the canopy, holding something out towards the effigy.

80 other stands. Each of these angels has survived very well in part because of their flat orientation, parallel to the slab. As canopies and effigies gained in three-dimensionality, so did the angels, and sculptors by c.1250 began orienting the angels with their torsos perpendicular to the slab and to the main effigy (e.g. Cats. 2, 3, 4, 12). Some lean forward over the canopy towards the bishop's head, their wings suspended or folded in the air behind them.. More interest in depicting the entire body of the angel occurs on the effigies of the last four decades of the century. On Bridport's effigy at Salisbury (Cat. 20), the angels kneel at either side of the canopy, their bodies oriented towards the bishop's head. The majority of later angels are shown crouching, supported on one knee and with the other drawn up and the foot extended in the direction of the bishop's head (e.g. Cats. 9, 21, 50). In addition to angels at the head, angels could also be placed below the feet of the effigy, as supports for the figure and canopy, usually in the form of corbel heads (Cats. 9, 35, 36).42 The angels usually play an active role in the composition. Even the frontal, low relief angels tended to hold their hands in prayer, to gesture towards the effigy, or to unfurl a scroll or to hold aloft some other attribute. Two angels standing at the apex of Bishop Northwold's canopy lift the bishop's released soul in a cloth (Cat. 3). Most often, occurring first in the twelfth century and regularly through the thirteenth, the angels actively lean around the canopy and reach out towards the effigy, swinging a thurible on a long chain in the direction of the bishop's head. At the turn of the fourteenth century, as architectural canopies diminished in popularity and pillows shown under the bishop’s 42

The triple-gabled base that Bishop Aquablanca (Cat. 10) stands on also has three heads below it, but it is unclear whether they are meant to be angels since they lack the wavy clouds. There are two seated figures at the feet of Cats. 43 and 53, but these are not angels.

81 head became more prominent, angels were shown holding the pillow. This pose was not used on thirteenth-century ecclesiastical effigies; the pillow-holding angels on the limestone effigy for Bishop Marchia (d.1302) at Wells appear to be the earliest ecclesiastical instance of what rapidly in the fourteenth century became a standard arrangement on both ecclesiastical and non-ecclesiastical tombs. A fantastical beast, identified either as an asp, basilisk, dragon, or wyvern, often appears under the feet of early English ecclesiastical effigies. All those effigies known from the twelfth century have such a beast, with the exception of three (Cats. 18, 46, 58), and a great percentage of those in the thirteenth century also feature one. Of the effigies of bishops and abbots listed in the catalogue, 23 have beasts, while fourteen do not. Of those that do, at least fourteen of them are shown to be either stabbed by the crosier or biting the tip of it.43 The creatures usually writhe around or under the figure's feet. With some exceptions, they are depicted with a feathered or scaly head, large teeth, feathered wings, lions' or birds' claws, a knobbly spine and a long, serpent-like tail.44 In comparison, lay effigies with animals at the feet generally have lions or dogs, and the imagery of interacting with the beast, of triumphing over it, is much less evident.45

Consistency of motifs A consistency of form and iconography, despite changes in style, characterizes

43 44

45

Not including the groups of retrospective effigies or those in Wales. A De Vries, Dictionary of Symbols and Imagery (Amsterdam, 1976); G Bruce, “Medieval Bestiaries and their Influence on Ecclesiastical Decorative Art,” JBAA 25 (1919), 41-82; ibid., JBAA 26 (1920), 35-79. Tummers, Secular Effigies, 41-2, stated that the meaning of these is hard to discern, but probably originally stemmed from the concept seen on ecclesiastical effigies.

82 English ecclesiastical tombs into the thirteenth century. The effigy, which formed the dominant feature of the tomb, was recumbent, yet usually was depicted as alive, even active. Each bishop's effigy was fully vested for Mass, holding a crosier, the symbol of his office, in one hand, and making the gesture of benediction with the other. Abbots' effigies are tonsured (or mitred if they were granted such privileges), wear Mass vestments, and hold a crosier and a book. The effigies have one or a combination of the additional features of a canopy, foliage, angels and a beast. Style, not iconography, determined changes in ecclesiastical effigies through the thirteenth century. It is impossible to know today the extent to which these choices for imagery lay with the patrons or with the artists who may have been following local, evidently conservative, practice. What can be stated with certainty is that there is no evidence that what was produced in the workshops was at all unsatisfactory to the patrons. The cohesive output of English workshops in the second half of the twelfth century and into the thirteenth is apparent when compared to the variety of options available to patrons across the Channel. Imagery of the dead on continental funerary monuments had appeared by the end of the eleventh century. The earliest-known example seems to have been the sarcophagus of Gebhard II, bishop of Constance (d.996), which was described by a mid-twelfth century chronicler as displaying a narrative scene of the bishop's funeral sculptured in relief.46 The earliest known medieval full-sized effigy, placed horizontally over the top of the tomb, appears to be that cast in bronze for the secular leader Rudolf of Swabia and placed in the cathedral at Merseburg, dated to 46

Bulletin Monumental 107 (1949), 176, where it is proposed that this is the earliest known appearance of personal funerary iconography. It no longer survives. The scene was on a sarcophagus. See also Erlande-Brandenberg, “Un gisant royal,” 33, who believes it may have been an effigy (gisant).

83 c.1100.47 The centuries to follow saw increasing variety across Europe in expressions of imagery centered on the deceased. The effigy came to be the common choice in medieval Europe, but extant examples demonstrate a great deal of variety in its form and iconography. A twodimensional effigy in mosaic was a favored option in the twelfth century and into the thirteenth for both ecclesiastical48 and lay49 patrons. Low-relief effigies are also known in a variety of materials, including stone, stucco, and metal.50 The European effigy, besides being formally diverse, in terms of relief and materials, can be iconographically varied,

47

48

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50

Panofsky, 51-2; Bauch, 11-13; and in more detail Dale, “The Individual, the Resurrected Body.” The date is Dale's. Rudolf was a secular leader, though Dale suggests that he may have been promoted as a saintly figure, hence the use of rich materials. The tomb's inscription says that he died for the church. For example, the following: an early twelfth-century mosaic effigy of Archbishop Amblardus at StMartin-d'Ainay in Lyons (NE Toke, “The Opus Alexandrinum and Sculptured Stone roundels in the Retro-choir of Canterbury Cathedral,” Archaeologia Cantiana, vol. xlii (1930), 193); a slab for Bishop Frumald of St Vaast (d.1184) now in Arras (ibid.; Panofsky, fig. 194); and a mosaic half-length image of Gilbert, abbot of St Maria Laach (d.1152), whose figure is partially hidden by a tablet with an inscription (Panofsky, fig. 192). The mosaic slab with effigy in Sta Sabina, Rome, for Munoz de Zamora, a Dominican (d.1300; Panofsky, fig. 195), proves that in some parts of Europe the mosaic form continued beyond the twelfth century. A number of abbatial effigies in Normandy, now known only through drawings made for Gaignières, were composed of colored tiles in the first half of the thirteenth century: EC Norton, “The Thirteenth-Century Tile-Tombs of the Abbots of Jumièges,” JBAA cxxxxvii (1984), 145-67. Norton suggested the tombs were a retrospective series carried out c.1239. Altogether Norton cites evidence for the existence of around 25 now-lost tile tombs, and one survival (a knight) from thirteenth-century upper Normandy. Some early lay examples include the following: a mosaic slab for William, Count of Flanders (d.1109), once in St-Bertin at St-Omer (shown with eyes closed, Panofsky, fig. 191); a mid-twelfth-century slab inlaid with colored stones for Queen Fredegund (d.597) originally in St-Germain-des-Prés and now in St-Denis (Panofsky, 49-50; Erlande-Brandenburg, “Un gisant royal,”; idem, Le Roi est Mort, 139-40); and a twelfth-century slab for Adelaide in St-Pierre de Montmartre (Nolan, “The Queen's Body”). The stone low-relief effigy of Abbot Isarn at Marseille, whose figure is mostly hidden by a rectangular slab with a long inscription, may date from early in the twelfth century (Bauch, 47; Panofsky, fig. 196; Jacques Bousquet, “La tombe de l'abbé Isarn de Saint-Victor à Marseille,” Provence Historique vol. 46, no. 183 (Feb-Mar 1996), 97-130). A c.1130 stucco monument for the Saxon Duke Widikind is considerably higher in relief than earlier essays, and includes, perhaps for the first time, the additional features of a pedestal at his feet and a canopy above his head (Panofsky, 52 and fig. 199). Bronze effigies cast in high relief appear on the tombs of Archbishop Frederick von Wettin (d.1152), in Magdeburg cathedral, and one of his successors, probably Archbishop Wichmann (d.1192) (Panofsky, figs. 200 and 201, respectively). The use of metals for effigies continued in the thirteenth century with, among others, the bronze effigy of Bishop Evrard de Fouilloi (d.1222) in Amiens cathedral (Panofsky, fig. 202; Sauerländer, Gothic Sculpture, 467). Sauerländer dates it to shortly after the bishop's death.

84 shown either dead or alive.51 The earliest-known effigy, that of Rudolph of Swabia, shows him with eyes open, as do many, but a considerable number also depict the deceased as in death, with the eyes closed, the body depicted as on a bier, and/or arms folded as if lying in state. The effigy of Abbot Isarn at Marseilles is clearly meant to be understood as dead, lying with eyes closed in a coffin. The abbots on the thirteenthcentury tile tomb slabs at Jumièges were depicted with eyes closed and arms folded over the chest, reflecting the disposition of the dead body below it.52 A twelfth-century archbishop's effigy at Rouen is shown with eyes closed and arms folded across the chest, and the bed on which he lies is draped with cloth that spills over the molding at the sides (Fig. 16).53 Illustrating the effigy as if deceased was possible on tombs of the laity or the clergy.54 Panofsky believed the imagery of death was regional, that in Italy it was more common, but that in the north it was an exception; the examples cited above, however, show that the motif enjoyed quite a bit of currency in northern Europe.55 The deceased on European tombs could be shown in other ways besides (or in addition to) a full-length effigy. Tombs sometimes featured one or more narrative scenes of rites related to death or burial, in which the body of the deceased is attended by clergy

51

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53 54

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Binski, Medieval Death, 71, pointed out that effigies across Europe had a wide range of meaning, either representing an arrest of time, death as a process, or both. Norton, 146. He also noted the presence of the 'dead' effigy in some other thirteenth-century decorated slabs, e.g. the incised slabs from the priory of Longueville-sur-Scie (a canon of Rouen cathedral, mid century) and from Mainneville (a civilian, dated 1233). Bauch, 45-46; Morganstern, “Liturgical and Honorific Implications,” 81-3. The depiction of the effigy in death appeared quite early in France on the mosaic tomb slab for William, Count of Flanders (d.1109), with a pillow and shroud (Panofsky, fig. 191). Important lay examples include some of the royal effigies at Fontevrault, with closed eyes, each clearly laid out on a draped bier, their heads resting on pillows. The two kings and one of the female effigies have arms folded across their chests. Eleanor's tomb represents an unusual blend of death imagery with activity. See Erlande-Brandenberg, “La Sculpture Funéraire vers les Années 1200: Les Gisants de Fontevrault,” The Year 1200: A Symposium (New York, 1975), 561-77; Sauerländer, 448-9, pl. 142. Panofsky, 51.

85 and mourners. The earliest-known such scene, on the sarcophagus of Bishop Gebhard II of Constance (d.996), featured the deceased prelate laid on a bier and carried in funerary procession by two clerks.56 Another moment of funerary ceremony popularly depicted is the administration of last rites to the individual who lies on his deathbed attended by clergy. A scene of ceremonial type could illustrate clergymen reading the Office for the Dead over the body. This appears to be the scene depicted on a mid-twelfth century cenotaph made for Bishop and later Saint Hilaire at Poitiers, which features at the center an image of the bishop laid out on top of a bier (or a tomb?), and a crowd of bishops and angels carved in relief along the wall behind (Fig. 17).57 The c.1266 sarcophagus for Bishop Guilhelm Raoul at St-Nazaire in Carcassonne illustrates two separate moments in the funerary ritual (Fig. 18). At the center is a funeral scene, with the body vested in pontificals on a cushioned and draped bier. Attending clergy crowd around the bier holding instruments necessary for the rite of absolution, here carried out by another bishop, while laypersons gather behind. At either side of the central scene, the procession of the body to or from the church may be represented by figures ranged in an orderly fashion under a small blind arcade, shown in profile as they process toward the body.58 While many of these scenes existed in narrative relief panels positioned along the sides of the raised tomb chest, sometimes the scene of ritual could be expanded to

56 57

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Bulletin Monumental 107, 176. Ibid.; Bauch, 46, 259. In the center of the crowd are two angels. It is possible that this represents the rite of Absolution. The sarcophagus is engaged in the wall, and therefore only displays one face. It is supported on three colonnettes, variously decorated, and is mounted in a thirteenth-century gabled arcade in the chapel of the infirmary, which he helped to build. The narrative scene is on the lower register. Above is an engraved inscription giving name and date of death. The upper register has foliate ornament with pointed leaves. G-J Mot, Bulletin Monumental 111 (1953), thought the processional figures represent instead an extension of the crowd around the body during Absolution.

86 encompass an entire tomb set into a niche in the wall, complete with chest, effigy, and mural arch. The tomb of Abbot Arnoult at St-Père, Chartres, known unfortunately only through a drawing made for Gaignières, was a large niche tomb with chest and effigy (Fig. 19). At either end of the effigy, which here plays the role of the deceased on a bier and is the focus of the enlarged solemn scene, were two full-size statues, one a bishop reading from a text, the other a monk holding a crosier with hands held in prayer, both administering the Office of the Dead to the effigy.59 These depictions of the body at various moments in the funerary ritual are standardized, but they are also biographical, in that they depict the deceased during a specific moment in that individual's history. What happened to the deceased at the end of his life could be combined with imagery that illustrated what he hoped for after death. The majority of funerary liturgical scenes include the additional element of the soul, portrayed in the form of a miniature naked figure, which has been released from the lifeless body and is accompanied to heaven by angels. The upper portion of the central scene on Guilhelm Raoul's sarcophagus (Fig. 18) shows the bishop's soul lifted to heaven. On the tomb for Abbot Arnoult at St-Père, Chartres (Fig. 19), angels fly in the mural arch stretched over the effigy, and the two at the peak of the arch lift the abbot's soul. A similar arch, with angels holding candles along the molding and clergy sprinkling holy water and holding liturgical texts carved in panels on the inner face of the arch, now forms part of a north transept portal at Reims Cathedral. The surviving late twelfthcentury tomb to an archbishop at Rouen has a similar niched form, with the effigy shown

59

Sauerländer, 415, dated this c.1225 and suggested that it represents Archbishop Henri de France (d.1175).

87 dead and the soul being raised high among angels in the archivolts (Fig. 16). The English prelates rejected a great deal of this continental imagery, a curious circumstance that has been noted in passing but not truly explored.60 The absence of any known narrative scene of ritual on an ecclesiastical tomb, with the sole exception of the scenes on the superstructure over Bridport's tomb at Salisbury (Cat. 20), is compelling evidence for the insularity of English development of imagery of the deceased. No early imported slab or tomb chest illustrating scenes of funerary ritual is known. No early English-made tomb chest depicts a funereal scene, nor are there niche tombs with an enlarged funerary scene in the twelfth and thirteenth centuries. Even the imagery of angels lifting the soul appeared only rarely on English tombs (Cat. 3, Fig. 9). The effigy depicted the body of the deceased, to be sure, but rarely as it might have been in death.61 Despite the recumbent position, it is clear that the death of the body is not the main subject. The eyes are open and sometimes the body is shown active, striding forward, with right leg advanced before the left (Cats. 20, 36), and the drapery shown stretched as a consequence.

English ecclesiastical effigies exhibit some amount of exclusivity of iconography. Certain motifs seem to have been reserved for tombs of the clergy, even once royalty and the nobility began to commission effigies in England on a regular basis. Placing the

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Badham, “Status and Salvation,” 413-4, briefly notes this. Studies devoted to English tombs as a whole tend to have been about style, and therefore do not address iconographical choice. Badham's and Saul's work, English Church Monuments, are exceptions. The rare exceptions might be the retrospective series at Wells (Cats. 23-27), but this is not clear. Their eyes are difficult to see, and some have arms laid in a resting position while others do not. An episcopal effigy at Llandaff, however, is definitely intended to be understood as dead (Fig. 24).

88 effigy within a canopied niche appears to have been at first reserved for ecclesiastical tombs. The earliest effigies for the laity do not lie under a canopy, for example King John's tomb at Worcester and the series of knights' tombs in Temple Church (Fig. 20), each made of Purbeck and which date from the time when the canopy on Purbeck ecclesiastical tombs had become a major feature. In the second half of the thirteenth century, placing lay figures under canopies had become a more frequent occurrence, but was by no means ubiquitous for the laity, while it continued to be a regular feature for ecclesiastical monuments up until c.1300. Of the extant 213 secular tombs in Tummers's catalogue, only 16 effigies have canopies,62 while of the extant 52 ecclesiastical tombs in my catalogue for which we have knowledge of the upper part of the slab, only five bishops and six abbots do not have canopies.63 By contrast, the early tombs made for the laity frequently had some sort of pillow supporting the effigy's head, as seen on the tomb of William Longespee at Salisbury, King John at Worcester, and a knight at Temple Church.64 Pillows do not appear on any of the ecclesiastical effigies in the twelfth century or the first couple of decades into the thirteenth century. Two retrospective effigies (Cats. 28, 29) from Wells might be, if the

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These sixteen lay effigies with canopies are mostly dated by Tummers to the last two decades of the century. Most famously (although not the earliest), the 1290s effigies at Westminster for Henry III and Queen Eleanor had canopies. Blore's drawings reveal two more secular tombs with canopies which are not listed by Tummers. At Halstead, Essex was a double tomb to a knight and wife under a canopy (BL Add Ms 42012, fol. 16, undated), and in Thornhill, Yorks, a knight with multi-faceted canopy of three gables (BL Add Ms 42013, fol. 43, dated by him to 1300). These may no longer survive. A third not listed in Tummers but which does survive is a Purbeck effigy for Ailwyn, at Ramsey, Hunts, in the abbey gatehouse, which has a particularly rich canopy like that of Bishop Northwold in Ely, Cat. 3 (Roberts, “Effigy of Bishop Hugh,” fig. 8, dated c.1250). A few ecclesiastical effigies do not have canopies, but these are very much the exception rather than the rule: Cats. 11, 33, 34, 28, 29, 37, 45, 46, 47, 50, 54. Tummers, Secular Effigies, 44-52; Stone, 146; Andersson, 57. Among Tummers's survey of thirteenthcentury secular effigies, he counted over 100 examples. He also noted the relative sparseness of this feature in early ecclesiastical effigies.

89 conventional dating is accepted, the earliest ecclesiastical figures to rest on pillows. These effigies are, however, extremely unusual in design; their boldness of relief and eschewal of elaborate foliate or architectural features are surprising at the early date generally given to them (c.1220-30s). Based on these features, a date closer to c.1240 would seem more accurate, and even for this later date, the thick, broad design of the pillow is unusual. More typical of the iconographical development is the 1240s Purbeck tomb of Bishop Robert Bingham at Salisbury (Cat. 19), whose tomb, perhaps the first to do so, combined the use of a low, rectangular pillow with the canopy.65 Thereafter the pillow would become a fairly standard feature on ecclesiastical tombs.66 Tracing the use of these two motifs, the canopy and the pillow, suggests that a distinction usually was made in the thirteenth century between the tombs of the clergy and those of the laity. In the thirteenth century, figures of angels were ubiquitous on tombs of ecclesiastical figures, appearing on all but four (Cats 11, 15, 16, 31), but were rarely seen on tombs of the laity. Of the 213 known thirteenth-century secular effigies catalogued by Tummers, only six have angels. In particular, the imagery of angels censing the main figure seems to have been restricted to tombs of bishops and archbishops; even the surviving tombs of abbots do not display this imagery. Only on two highly unusual Purbeck lay tombs dating to the 1260s or 1270s and on two freestone effigies from the late thirteenth century are angels depicted in the act of censing the main figure (Fig. 65

66

Of similar date is the c.?1240s dark stone ecclesiastical effigy at Lichfield (Cat. 11), but that pillow is couched in foliage rather than placed under an architectural canopy. The pillow placed diagonally appears c.1260 (Cat. 31). By the 1290s, double pillows, one rectangular one set diagonally, were in vogue, in part because of their use at Westminster: LL Gee, “Ciborium Tombs in England,” 30. See also Tummers, Secular Effigies, 48, where he noted, however, that Bishop Bronescombe's effigy had double pillows (arranged slightly differently) before the Westminster examples. Archbishop Pecham's effigy (Cat. 1, d.1292) had pillows of the same design as at Westminster and at roughly the same date.

90 21).67 In the 1290s, tombs of the nobility at Westminster popularized the use of angels on secular tombs, but these late thirteenth-century angels all are large, seated figures who hold the pillow (or headdress on some female effigies) and are not in the act of censing.68 These are found much more frequently on tombs of the laity and clergy alike in the fourteenth century. As with some of the choices of imagery, the use of dark marble-like stone appears to be primarily reserved for tombs of bishops and abbots. Only rarely did the ecclesiastical elite choose something other than Purbeck or a similar stone for their effigies between c.1150 and 1300. Of the 29 extant bishops' tombs that were not commissioned as part of a retrospective series, I count 26 marble-like effigies compared to only 3 in freestone or wood.69 A few others no longer surviving may have been in cast metal (Appendix III). In the thirteenth century, some lay patrons commissioned effigies in Purbeck, but not in as great a percentage as ecclesiastical patrons. In Tummers's survey of secular monuments in the thirteenth century, among tombs for knights, 40 out of 143 listed are Purbeck or other marble-like stone; 6 female effigies out of 44; and 6 civilians

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69

These were made apparently by marblers who specialized in ecclesiastical effigies. Both include an elaborate architectural canopy and two seated angels who swing a censer towards the effigies. These are a knight at Sandwich, Kent (Tummers dates from c.1250-60), and a female at Romsey Abbey, with foliage, canopy and censing angels (Fig. 21; Tummers dates 1270-80; see also Drury, “Use of Purbeck,” 91, who suggests c.1270). I date the female figure to the 1260s or 1270s based on the nodding canopy, which appears in the 1260s for Aymer at Winchester (Cat. 31). Edmund Crouchback's tomb in Westminster Abbey, mid-1290s, is the only thirteenth-century military effigy to have angels at his head. A few late thirteenth century female effigies also have angels, the most famous being the effigy made for Aveline at Westminster. Gee, 30, says she is the “earliest surviving evidence” for the motif of angels sitting and holding the cushion. Tummers dated some female tombs with angels holding headdresses slightly earlier, e.g. a woman at Wolferlow, Herefs dated 1280-90; a woman at Welsh Bicknor, Herefs, dated 1280-90; a female at Rand, Lincs, dates to 1280-90; a late thirteenth century woman in Denham, Suffolk. The angels are all parallel to the slab, not seated. A late thirteenth-century female at Chichester Cathedral, however, does have seated angels. The exceptions are Cats. 1, 10, 22.

91 (including King John) out of 26.70 The use of Purbeck seemed to fall out of preference by the end of the thirteenth century, although a fragment, now in store, of Archbishop Winchelsey's monument (the head, in Purbeck) shows that as late as c.1313 Purbeck was still in use for some ecclesiastical effigies.71 The ecclesiastical favoring of Purbeck for relief effigies could perhaps be explained by the geographical spread of the material and the circumstances of its use. If Purbeck was primarily quarried for use in major religious buildings in the late twelfth and thirteenth centuries, ecclesiastical leaders would have had easy access to the material and to its sculptors. This raises the question of where Purbeck might have been carved. It has long been suggested that a centralized workshop was based in London, although others have shown that a certain amount of carving was done at Corfe, near the quarries. While there were no doubt many Purbeck sculptors in London in the thirteenth century working on the remodeled east end of St Paul's and on the rebuilding of Westminster Abbey, there is no firm evidence for centralized London-based Purbeck workshops until the 1280s.72 In the early decades of the Purbeck industry, the styles of the monuments produced are so varied that a centralized workshop seems unlikely. Sculptors may have been working locally at cathedral building sites, a third option for location of production that rarely gets 70

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Tummers, Secular Effigies, appendix. This figure includes those about which he was unsure, and also those which might be Sussex or Frosterley marble. On p. 130 he noted that relatively few secular tombs are of Purbeck. Wilson, “Medieval Monuments,” 464, noted that this is unusually late. Leland also said Winchelsey's tomb was of marble. Brieger, 101, “It has been generally accepted that this new style was formulated in London...” (i.e. those appearing in mid-century); see also Stone, 99. Sillence, 15, noted that a number of marblers were in London in mid-century, but admitted that we do not know if they made tombs. The carving of the effigy of Archbishop de Gray, which he believed was either done at a distance or posthumously, Sillence suggested, without discussion, took place on the Isle of Purbeck. Drury, “Use of Purbeck,” printed what was known in 1948 about quarry location and marblers based on physical evidence and documents; Blair, “Purbeck Marble,” provides an updated discussion of the Purbeck industry. The existing contracts do not show evidence of a centralized workshop until the late thirteenth century.

92 mentioned. Certain cathedral chapters made extensive use of Purbeck in their buildings, which surely must have required that specialist sculptors be on-site.73 The evidence in its current state is inconclusive. Trying to identify workshops or regional styles and preferences is difficult given the fact that so many losses have been suffered, especially to tombs of abbots.74 Of the tombs that do remain, there are only a few instances where consistency in style and motif can point to single workshops; further, the location of these workshops is not easily pinpointed. Some conclusions, however, can be drawn. There are some instances where a sculptor working close to a major church makes sense, such as at Peterborough, where the earliest three abbots’ tombs are each made of local stone and are similar in motif (Cats. 48-50). The tombs made in Purbeck for Bishop Northwold at Ely (Cat. 3) and that thought to have been made for Ailwyn at Ramsey Abbey are so similar in style as to suggest the same workshop, probably at Ely, as Ramsey and Ely are in close proximity to each other. The pair of Purbeck effigies in the chancel at Rochester suggests at least one local carver, because the sculptor of the later tomb (Cat. 16) looked to the earlier tomb (Cat. 15) in an attempt to imitate its overall shape and motif. The pair in the chancel at Worcester with foliage around the head are the only surviving two effigies with this motif, which strongly suggests that here, too, an effort was made to produce a 'matched' pair, even if in different stone (Cats. 33, 34). By mid-century, some effigies seem to have been sculpted in one workshop and

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Worcester may have been a likely place for a workshop. By c.1230, the rebuilding of the eastern end, with Purbeck details, was underway. Ely also would have been a likely place to find a highly competent sculptor in marble. Blair, “Purbeck Marble,” 44, suggested Salisbury as a possible major workshop. Tummers noted the same problem but for secular effigies.

93 then been shipped out to various destinations. Three Purbeck effigies, sent to the cathedrals at Carlisle, Lichfield and Ely, are so similar as to form a matching trio; they must have been made in the same workshop and more or less at the same time (Cats. 2, 4, 12). Other effigies produced around the same time share certain features with these effigies and with others, making it possible that the output came from one major workshop where several sculptors shared their talents on multiple works.75 Whether this shop was based in London, at the Isle of Purbeck, or in one of the cathedral workshops is not clear, but the wide geographic spread of the three effigies at Carlisle, Ely and Lichfield does indicate that by mid-century, patrons looked beyond their own cathedral workshops to obtain high-quality effigies carved in Purbeck. Purbeck was not used in the building works at Carlisle or Lichfield, for example.

Individualizing the effigy: beyond the sculpture The sculptured body and its imagery has always garnered the most attention in any discussion of tombs. More fleeting aspects, such as paint and inscriptions, are often forgotten or neglected as they do not survive in great number. Yet enough evidence survives to suggest that a number of early effigial tombs were at some point ornamented with color and inscriptions, additions which proved be quite ephemeral but which would have been of immense importance to the patron. The use of color in medieval 75

E.g. the angels on Northwold's tomb (Cat. 3) are very similar to the angels on these three effigies. The Bridport angels are very delicate (Cat. 20), with small swirls of drapery around the feet and carved wing feathers, and bear some similarities to the angels on de Gray's effigy (Cat. 36), especially the swirls of cloth and floating nature of it, as well as the delicate softer folds. The facial structure and treatment of the hair on the bishops' effigies are also similar. The de Gray angels at the top and bottom of the slab are very different from each other, especially in drapery treatment, suggesting perhaps two sculptors working on the same monument?

94 architectural settings has been demonstrated in recent years, but the possibility of the widespread use of color on funerary effigies has not been fully explored.76 Beautiful examples of extensively painted stone effigies survive from the fourteenth century and later. At Canterbury, the effigies of Archbishop Reynolds (d.1327) and of Prior Eastry (d.1331) both exhibit fragments of paint, mostly on the vestments.77 The paint on the alabaster effigy of Archbishop Courtenay (d.1396) was renewed based on earlier existing evidence for the color scheme.78 At Chichester, the c.1330 bishop's effigy in south transept and the c.1362 effigy under the sacellum in the south choir aisle both had color into the middle of the nineteenth century.79 Reliable evidence for the use of color is found in documents relating the discovery in 1825 of a fourteenth-century tomb for a bishop at Rochester, which had been bricked up behind a wall (Fig. 22). Although it was retouched by workers soon after it was uncovered, descriptions of the tomb as it was originally found attest that a large amount of color, particularly on the 76

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Tombs have not been part of the greater discussion of medieval polychromy, but see recently Brodrick, “Painting Techniques of Early Medieval Sculpture,” Romanesque: Stone Sculpture from Medieval England, B Heywood, ed. (Leeds, 1993), 18-27; David Park, “The Polychromy of English Medieval Sculpture,” Wonder: Painted Sculpture from Medieval England, Boldrick, Park, and Williamson, eds. (Leeds, 2002). For paint on secular tombs, see Tummers, Secular Effigies, 17-18. Park, “Polychromy of English Medieval Sculpture,” notes some occasional documentary evidence for monks working as painters in the early Gothic period, but most painters were of the laity, working on contract. Based on documentary evidence, the emergence of painting as a craft separate from carving seems to date to the late thirteenth century, with the earliest surviving guild ordinances dating from 1283. Thirteenth-century ordinances regarding painters also are known in Paris. These early references, however, do not separate tomb painters from painters of other figure carving. Alabaster carvers apparently painted their own work rather than involving other specialists. The Purbeck industry may have been localized enough and specialized enough that they, like the alabaster carvers, provided their own paint. More generally on painting, see Binski, Painters, Medieval Craftsmen series (Toronto and London: British Museum Press, 1991). Wilson, “Medieval Monuments,” 465, described Reynolds's chasuble and the apparel on the alb as “vigorously painted gold griffons on a blue ground,” citing sources of 1599 (Scarlett) and c.1613-15. Some paint can still be seen on the chasuble and dalmatic. For Eastry, see ibid., n. 176. Fragments are visible on chasuble, lining, apparel of alb, and the cushion and architecture. Scarlett, fol. 12v, in 1599 noted it was “all red powdered with lions passant gold.” Wilson, “Medieval Monuments,” n.101. A view of Courtenay was published with color in Stothard. Tummers, “Chichester,” 8 and 13, citing nineteenth-century descriptions.

95 vestments, had survived.80 The practice of painting effigies extended back to at least the thirteenth century, and possibly earlier. Two instances of extensive tomb polychromy surviving from the second half of the thirteenth century demonstrate the importance of added color at least by c.1270. The limestone effigy made in Hereford Cathedral for Bishop Aquablanca (d.1268), though partially abraded, features brightly colored vestments (Cat. 10). The pilasters with miniature niches and heads at either side of the effigy are highlighted with gold. Although the tomb was touched up in the nineteenth century, its color was noted in 1717 by Rawlinson.81 At Exeter Cathedral, the black basalt effigy and slab for Bishop Bronescombe is a splendid example of thirteenth-century paint (Cat. 9). Every surface, including foliage, the slab, the architectural features, and the pillows, are picked out in multiple colors and patterns. Here is the most extensive early surviving example of efforts to depict with accuracy in paint embroidered fabric and pearls. The pillows are each painted in rich patterns of gold, red and blue. The chasuble is resplendent in gold and red; the dalmatic and tunicle in blue and green; and the hemlines, the amice, orphrey, mitre and maniple painted with details of black, red, and gold embroidery and imitation pearls. At Salisbury a miniature effigy of a bishop, much more worn and less exquisite, still retains some red and blue coloring in the crevices of the canopy and the garments

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DT Powell described it in his notes, BL Add 17733, fol. 173v, “In Jany 1825 a beautiful monument of John de Sheppey bishop of Rochester and Lord High treasurer of England was discovered by a Mr Coldingham an architect then making an estimate to restore the cathedral to its origl beauty. The bishop died 1360 and was interrd in a nitch not far from the altar rails and over him was erected a gothic tomb on which his statues lies at full length in robes and mitre, this had been bricked up which being removed it was discovered in good preservation.” See also the Gentleman's Magazine for the year 1825, and the Bells Cathedral Guide for Rochester in 1897. Rawlinson, The History and Antiquities of the City and Cathedral Church of Hereford (1717), 183, noticed the paint and gilding on the effigy, and also on the canopy soaring above it.

96 (c.1280?; Cat. 22). The wooden effigy for Archbishop Pecham at Canterbury (d.1292; Cat. 1) was also once painted, as noted in the early nineteenth century by DT Powell.82 Dating from the first half of the thirteenth century, the effigy identified as Bishop Dudoc's at Wells is perhaps the earliest freestone ecclesiastical effigy to retain paint fragments, on the chasuble, mitre, sleeves, and foliage (Cat. 28, ?1240s). The effigy of William Longespee at Salisbury (Fig. 7; c.1230) is an early lay example with surviving fragments of paint. Two-dimensional effigies painted onto flat lids are known from the second half of the thirteenth century, most famously the coffin lid found covering the remains of Archbishop de Gray at York (Cat. 36). The high quality pigment and the careful and fully detailed image show that the painting, though soon covered by an effigy, was not an inferior or rapidly executed work.83 With the exception of the black basalt effigy of Bishop Bronescombe, most of the surviving Purbeck or similarly dark, marble-like stone monuments are today without color, and there is some question as to whether they were once decorated or left pigmentfree and simply polished. Purbeck was an expensive stone requiring skillful workmanship, and the inherent qualities of rich color and luminosity in the natural stone 82

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BL Add Ms 17733, fol. 5. See CE Keyser, A List of Buildings in Great Britain and Ireland Having Mural and Other Painted Decorations (1883), p. lxxxiii-iv on wooden effigies, although the ones he described were lay tombs and most date later than the Pecham tomb: “There can be no doubt that the wooden effigies were invariably overlaid with colour and gilding, or, in a few instances, as in the case of the effigy of Henry V at Westminster Abbey, with plates of metal enriched with enamel. The crosslegged effigy of William de Valence, also at Westminster Abbey, is still ornamented with a thin layer of enamel and gilding, which originally covered the whole figure.” He went on to list ten military effigies of wood with paint, and a handful of effigies of civilians. Sillence, “The two effigies of Archbishop Walter de Gray (d.1255) at York Minster,” Church Monuments, vol xx, 2005, also mentions other examples of painted lids, and notes that since our best evidence comes from high-status tombs, “there is no reason to suppose that they [painted lids] were considered as an inferior means of representing the deceased.”

97 are known to have been valued in the medieval period, as evidenced by their employment in the architectural setting for Becket's shrine at Canterbury Cathedral and the verses written by Henry of Avranches describing Lincoln Cathedral.84 But as Keyser noted in 1883, even in architectural settings marble-like stones could be painted. He also pointed out the practice of painting and gilding sculptured screens of alabaster in the fourteenth and fifteenth centuries. Additionally, sculpture on shrines was often painted.85 Park noted cautiously that, “it is hard to believe that this beautiful, dark polished limestone was generally intended to be concealed, but there is ample evidence that at least in some cases—such as King John’s effigy in Worcester Cathedral—it was originally fully polychromed.”86 Indeed, close scrutiny of the extant Purbeck effigies reveals several instances of tiny fragments of polychromy on the undersides of canopies, feet, and foliage, and especially in the folds and crevices formed by the drapery, enough to suggest that they were once much more fully painted. Fragmentary pigment exists on the two thirteenth-century episcopal effigies at Lichfield (Cats. 11, 12). Small areas of paint survive on the Purbeck effigy made for Bishop Giffard at Worcester, and the color on Giffard's effigy is amply supported by visual and written evidence from the first half of the nineteenth century (Cat. 35). An early thirteenth-century abbot's effigy at

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Binski, Becket's Crown, 3-12, on the polished colored marble at Canterbury, and 55-7 on Henry of Avranches, “The Metrical life of St Hugh.” Keyser, xlii: the “black marble shafts in the choir of Rochester Cathedral, showed distinct traces of early red colouring.” See p. lix for paint on alabaster screens and shrines. Park, “Polychromy of English Medieval Sculpture,” 45. The effigy of King John at Worcester, c.1230, was fully colored at one time, and still apparently retains some fragments of red coloring: see Park, “Survey of the Medieval and later Polychromy of Worcester Cathedral,” 1997 (unpublished report for Worcester Dean and Chapter), no. 18. For paint on Purbeck lay tombs, see also Blair, Goodall, Lankester, “The Winchelsea Tombs Reconsidered,” Church Monuments 15 (2000), 5-30, esp. n.18. But Drury, “Use of Purbeck,” who thought many must have been left plain. A Gardner, 158, thought the trend for paint may have caused the end of the Purbeck trade. See also Prior and Gardner, 601-602.

98 Peterborough retains some red paint under the folds where his right arm is raised and just below his right wrist on the chasuble (Cat. 51). The Purbeck bishop's effigy in Carlisle Cathedral apparently retained paint and gilding, despite its battered state, until c.1884 (Cat. 2). The Purbeck effigy at Temple Church may also have been painted in the medieval period (Cat. 13). The Bronescombe example stands as our best evidence for the practice of painting dark stone. Its excellent survival when none of the Purbeck effigies retain more than tiny fragments might be due to the physical properties of the stone itself. Paint may not have adhered in a lasting way to Purbeck in the same way as to basalt, which is a very dense stone and compared to Purbeck is much more impervious to moisture. Later generations, which preferred the dark stone to bright colors, may also have scraped and polished away significant amounts of medieval polychromy from these Purbeck monuments. Colored details could also be applied in materials other than paint. For example in the chancel at Exeter, one of the Purbeck bishop's effigies (Cat. 6) retains some red paste in the eye-sockets of the beast at the bishop's feet, used either as an adhesive to attach glass or as a coloring itself. The dark stone effigy in the chancel at Worcester (Cat. 33) retains adhesive or colored paste in the indentation carved for a jewel on the morse at the bishop's throat. The majority of Purbeck effigies, in fact, have indentations that no doubt once held glass or colored paste 'jewels.' Important examples include the effigy for King John at Worcester, and the three similarly carved mid-century episcopal effigies at Carlisle, Ely and Lichfield (Cats. 2, 4, 12). The elaborately sculptured but badly damaged surface of a bishop's effigy at Exeter (Cat. 7) was the most enthusiastically ornamented,

99 with depressions of varying sizes and shapes on the mitre, the amice, and along the borders of each of the layers of garments. The effigies were not the only part of the tomb to be painted. Large architectural superstructures over the thirteenth-century effigies seem to have been fields for decorative color schemes and, in some very rare surviving cases, painted religious imagery. Purbeck and limestone on the gabled covering over the tomb for Archbishop de Gray at York (Cat. 36) was painted, particularly the head stops and underneath the trefoiled arcade of the superstructure. Similarly, green and red paint can be found in the crevices of the moldings on the north side of the superstructure over the tomb chest and effigy for Bishop Aquablanca at Hereford (Cat. 10). The superstructure constructed for the tomb of Bishop Giles de Bridport was extensively decorated, known from some fragments of surviving paint, but more securely from colored sketches and notes taken in the nineteenth century (Cat. 20). The polychromy included striped colored bands around the Purbeck and stone shafts, and rich and varied color on the moldings above the doublebay openings.87 The c.1292 tomb of Archbishop Pecham at Canterbury (Cat. 1) features extensive color on the diminutive niches housing relief statues of bishops on the tomb chest and in the pilasters of the mural arch. The crockets on the primary gabled niche are picked out in gold. Chests, too, could be painted. An early example, albeit for a lay tomb, is the wooden chest for William Longespee at Salisbury (Fig. 7), which has some painted decoration of curled tendrils in the spandrels.88 On the tomb chest for Bishop Giffard at

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The shafts on the head canopy of Bronescombe's slab are also painted in swirling stripes. Blore BL Add Ms 42008, fol. 9 shows some painted curled tendrils in the chest spandrels, though nothing in the background of the arcade. A view reconstructing the polychromy is on display at the cathedral. See also Keyser, lxxxiii-iv.

100 Worcester (Cat. 35), the figures in the quatrefoils still retain some red coloring. Religious or any kind of narrative imagery rarely survived the depredations of Protestants and Puritans, but some record of such imagery does survive. Religious imagery often decorated the back wall of a mural arch, such as the early fourteenthcentury tomb to Bishop Swinfield at Hereford, where a representation of the crucifixion was found.89 John Britton's early nineteenth-century description of the wall behind one of the ecclesiastical effigies in the chancel at Exeter noted that, The whole interior of the arch which contains this monument has been painted in distemper; at the back was an episcopal figure, seated, in the act of benediction, and near him a female, throwing incense: his principle vestments, which were azure coloured, were represented as richly embroidered at the edges, in different hues.90 On the west panel of the tomb chest for Prior Basing at Winchester, an incised crucifixion scene, once painted, is only barely still visible (Cat. 60). In the spandrels of the superstructure over Bishop Bridport's tomb at Salisbury (Cat. 20) is a series of scenes from the bishop's life, unequaled on any other English tomb. These were carved in relief and then painted. It is possible that the paint fragments which survive on the earliest effigies and their surrounding components were not original to the tombs, but rather were painted later in the medieval period, when polychromed tombs perhaps were more fashionable and a larger labor force was trained to paint them. However, the practicalities of the situation would suggest that paint, an expensive addition, would have been provided for by the executors as part of settling the estate, rather than being added as further 89

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Dingley, “History from Marble,” clxxxi, seventeenth century. Boutell added in 1871 that an inscription was painted on the masonry. Cat. 7. Surely his identification of the censing figure as a female is wrong.

101 embellishment at a much later date, when the executors or relatives were no longer around. In three cases of extensively painted tombs surviving from the thirteenth century, those for bishops Aquablanca and Bronescombe and Archbishop de Gray of York, the bishops were survived by a nephew in the church who may have ensured proper execution of his uncle's memorial.91 Given what we know about color on statues, shrines, and architectural sculpture, known both from surviving fragments and from documentary evidence which establishes that the craft of painting was well established in the thirteenth century, the assumption should be that the tombs also were colored, and probably were intended to be colored (assuming of course the testator's estate could afford it) from the beginning. A second feature usually lost to us and therefore often overlooked is the tomb's inscription. Post-medieval English historians and antiquaries, especially of the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries, either passed over early ecclesiastical tombs in complete silence because the monuments lacked surviving inscriptions, or they made obsessive attempts to identify the deceased.92 In either case, the work of these historians makes it clear that by their time, the tombs often no longer had identifying labels. Even today, assured identification of early ecclesiastical monuments can only be achieved in a small number of cases. Nigel Saul's recent work on English tomb inscriptions suggests, however, that text formed an important feature on monuments throughout the medieval

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All three of these bishops made provisions for their burial before they died, but a role played by the nephews has been proposed by Sillence, “The Two Effigies,” for de Gray, and by J Gardner, for Aquablanca. The debate over the identification of the tomb with the coped lid in the Trinity Chapel of Canterbury Cathedral (Fig. 5) is a good example of this: see n.123. Considerable nineteenth-century literature on the Temple Church tombs focuses almost solely on identifying the tombs of the knights.

102 period.93 The evidence set out here for inscriptions on twelfth- and thirteenth-century ecclesiastical tombs supports Saul's argument. Saul identifies the late eleventh and twelfth centuries as having reduced evidence for textual embellishment on tombs94 However, among ecclesiastical circles, inscriptions appear to not to have been unusual. The tomb for Bishop Ralph Luffa (d.1123) of Chichester, for example, bears imagery of a crozier, a mitre, and an inscription with the bishop's name.95 One of the earliest extant effigies in England, that for Abbot Clement at Sherborne (Cat. 55), sports an inscription incised on the canopy curving above the abbot's head. The surviving portion offers his name, his position at the abbey, and a partial verse crediting him with improving the monastery. The twelfth-century Purbeck effigy in Tolpuddle, Dorset (Cat. 58) also has an inscription incised into the concave chamfered edge of the slab, giving us the deceased's name, Philip, and his office, a priest. At Durham, most of the slabs over the bishops' graves in the twelfth-century chapter house, seen and described in the mid-sixteenth century, featured incised names.96 The twelfthcentury Purbeck effigy from Old Sarum and now in Salisbury Cathedral (Cat. 18) retains a verse inscription that extends along the orphrey and the border of the chasuble, and

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Saul, English Church Monuments, 335-65. Saul assesses the evidence spanning from the Anglo-Saxon period to the Reformation, and focuses primarily on lay monuments. See also Sally Badham, “Status and Salvation,” 430ff, for inscriptions on tombs from the later medieval period. Saul, English Church Monuments, 338-9, noted some exceptions, however, such as the lay tombs for William de Warenne and his wife at Lewes. A relatively small number of lay effigial tombs had inscriptions through the thirteenth century. Tummers, Early Secular Effigies, noted only seven examples out of 213 secular effigies to have inscriptions. These seven span from the earliest secular effigy at Bures to the late thirteenth-century tombs at Westminster. Tummers, “Chichester,” 213. There is also an 1831 engraving of a stone with inscription found in 1831 in the cloister garth to Godfrey, Bishop of Chichester (d.1088), which may have been a sepulchral stone (Chich PRO, PD 2193). The author of the Rites, c.1593, chapter XXVI, said that each has the name engraved with the sign of the cross annexed to the name. These were also seen by Leland, vol. V, 127, who in recording the names made a point of noting some that did not have an inscription, as if they were unusual.

103 around the perpendicular edges of the slab, the only areas of the slab which are flat, linear, and suitable for lettering.97 The need to include the inscription despite the lack of space left for it on the slab illustrates the great importance attached to the text, even at the expense of the image. It is possible that the inscription was added later, but if so, it likely dates at the latest to c.1226, when the effigy was moved from Old Sarum to the new church. The inscribed text, however, lacks the bishop's name, and is thus a disappointment in terms of assigning a clear identification to the effigy. The verse inscription is relatively unusual: the majority of known early inscriptions simply consist of the name and the individual's office. A small sample of thirteenth-century ecclesiastical tombs retain incised inscriptions. The Purbeck coffin made for Abbot Alan of Tewkesbury (d.1202; Fig. 23) has an incised inscription along the chamfered edge of its lid.98 An effigy to Bishop Anselm (d.1248) in St David's Cathedral, Wales, is clearly labeled with an inscription on the inner face of the canopy's trefoil molding. An effigy at Llandaff Cathedral displays an inscription on the molding of the canopy that identifies it as belonging to Bishop William de Breuse (d.1287; Fig. 24). The metal effigy for Dean William Langton at York (d.1259; Cat. 68), now gone but recorded by historians as early as 1641, featured an inscription, with his name, date of death, and the phrase “cujus anima sit cum Deo.” The tomb lid for

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It is unknown whether the name and office was once carved on the brief canopy, the surface of which is now damaged. An inscription around the perpendicular edges of the slab has implications for the way in which this effigy was displayed: it must have sat on a plinth of some kind, or at the very least on the floor rather than flush with it so that all four sides were visible. A second inscription was apparently found when the coffin was opened in 1795. This inscription with the occupant's name was found when mortar was removed from the head of the coffin: Monasticon, vol. II, 1819, 54. Lysons was present at the opening of the tomb and noted “that besides the inscription given by Mr Gough, on removing some mortar at the head of the coffin, another became visible: it was obliterated in some parts, but, when perfect, appeared to have been Hic Iacet Dominus Alanus Abbas.”

104 Prior Basing (d.?1264; Cat. 60) at Winchester has an extensive incised inscription around the double-tiered hollow-chamfered edges of the slab that goes so far as to offer a pardon to anyone who might say prayers for the occupant. The method of manufacture and the remains of mortar bedding on the backs of six lead tablets found with the remains of Anglo-Saxon bishops at Wells led Warwick Rodwell to suggest that originally these had been fashioned as fillet inscriptions meant to be visible on the exterior of the tombs (Cats. 23-27).99 When the tombs were re-sited in the early fourteenth century, the lead fillets may have been replaced by stone inscriptions, since a fragment of stone with carved letters believed to be part of the name of Bishop Burwoldus has been associated with that bishop's monument since at least 1540.100 At Exeter, the large cross-slab for Bishop Quivil (d.1291) also bore an inscription.101 Carving the inscriptions helped ensure their survival into the present day, but it is highly likely that a number of now unidentified monuments originally had inscriptions formed of less permanent material such as paint, especially given the evidence for polychromed effigies set out above.102 At Wells Cathedral, fragments of a painted inscription survive on the chamfered edges of the stone slab of an early fourteenthcentury effigy to a Dean in the northeast chapel. The tomb at Rochester of Bishop John 99

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Rodwell, “Lead plaques from the tombs of the Saxon bishops of Wells,” Antiquaries Journal 59, pt. 2 (1979), 407-10. Five of them were made at the same time, with certain words cast from the same mold, but the way they are joined suggests a fillet inscription had been cut down to form the tablet. Rodwell proposed that they had been enclosed with the remains in c.1325, when the tombs were re-sited due to construction in the eastern end. The sixth tablet had been cast most likely in early fourteenth century. Ibid. However, this was the only one to retain a stone inscription. As Leland indicated, by 1540 the identities of the others had been lost. Perhaps theirs were painted? Britton, in his History and Antiquities of Exeter, 134, noted that the tomb had been moved and the inscription, nearly obliterated, had been renewed. DNB: “He was buried before the altar of the new lady chapel under an incised marble slab bearing a foliated cross and the inscription ‘Petra tegit Petrum: nichil officiat sibi tetrum’ (‘The stone covers Peter; may nothing do you [Peter] harm’).” Saul, English Church Monuments, 339-40, and Badham, “'A new feire peynted stone,'” 27, both also discuss the likelihood of widespread use of painted inscriptions.

105 de Sheppey (d.1360), which had been walled up until its rediscovery in 1825, retained remnants of painted lettering (Fig. 22).103 The tomb for Archbishop Reynolds in the south choir aisle of Canterbury also once had a painted inscription, which by the early seventeenth century had decayed a great deal.104 The wide, smooth flat or chamfered edges which appear on so many slabs, effigial or otherwise, from the late twelfth and thirteenth centuries could easily have accommodated, and possibly were intended for, painted lettering. The chamfered borders around slabs often served as suitable ground for inscriptions on metal strips or in metal lettering, a more sumptuous and more permanent medium than paint. Indeed, if Rodwell's surmise is correct about the lead plaques at Wells originally being fillet inscriptions, lead may have been in use for such a purpose as early as the second decade of the thirteenth century. The late thirteenth-century brass for Bishop de Luda at Ely Cathedral had an inscription on the slab itself, in separately placed latten letters around the edges of the slab.105 The large number of inscriptions incised on brass slabs when they became popular at the turn of the fourteenth century proves that at least by that date, the use of inscriptions had become widespread. Unfortunately, material having intrinsic value proved vulnerable during times of war or iconoclasm, and the 103

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This paint however does raise an issue related to preservation. Accounts written by those who first found the tomb did not mention having seen a name on the slab, and Cottingham seems to have built an argument for it belonging to Bishop Sheppey. Whether he based this argument on fragments of paint or whether he was the one to paint the name on in 1825 is unclear. The antiquarian Somner, writing c.1640, believed that Simon Islip (d.1366) was “the first [of the Canterbury archbishops] that hath an epitaph upon his tomb in the whole church.” A damaged inscription for Archbishop Reynolds (d.1327), however, was noted by Scarlett in 1599 (BL Ms Harl 1366). Wilson, “Medieval Monuments,” 465, n. 60, says this was “doubtless of medieval date... and its likely position is the edge of the base slab under the effigy, as on the monuments of Edmund 'Crouchback' at Westminster and Bishop John of Sheppey at Rochester.” The indent in the center had the figure, visible in a rubbing in Lindley, “The Tomb of Bishop William de Luda: An Architectural Model at Ely Cathedral,” Proceedings of the Cambridge Antiquarian Society 73 (1984), 75-87. The partial inscription was recorded by Gough, Sepulchral Monuments, vol. 1, 77.

106 losses have been great. A number of inscriptions no longer extant are attested to by sixteenth and seventeenth century writers. These, however, are problematic, as it is unclear whether such labeling was original to the patron's intention, or added by an executor, or by the religious community at a much later date. Some inscriptions of doubtful provenance include painted labels on the arch spanning each of the early fourteenth-century bishops' effigies at Hereford. John Leland saw in the mid-sixteenth century at least one of these monuments with the bishop's name painted thereon.106 Bishop Aquablanca's tomb at Hereford (Cat. 10) had a painted label on the wall above the effigy's head, first recorded in the seventeenth century.107 At Ely, the eighteenth-century deconstruction of the north wall of the choir meant removing bones of benefactors that were immured in the wall; on the wall, of unknown date, “there were the Traces of their several Effigies [in paint]... and over them an Inscription of their Names.”108 The etchings made by Hollar for William Dugdale's 1658 book on St Paul's Cathedral recorded large plaques hung just above the thirteenth-century bishops' tombs (Cats. 63, 64), but the date of these, too, is unknown. Some inscriptions were certainly added long after the death of the prelate. At Wells, the arch above the effigy of Bishop Marchia (d.1302) featured a label by 1634, although Leland had not noted the presence of an inscription at his visit in the midsixteenth century.109 At Exeter Cathedral, John Hoker, the local historian and Chamberlain of the town in the mid-sixteenth century, himself composed epitaphs to add 106 107 108

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Leland, vol. V, 162. These have been renewed (and possibly confused) and are visible today. Dingley, vol. 94, cliv. It was also seen by Gough, Sepulchral Monuments, vol. I, 56-7. In a copy of a letter that Bentham sent to Dr Milles, written 1772: BL Add Ms 5842, fol. 175, from William Cole's collection. BL Lansdowne Ms 213, 337b. Leland omits the tomb entirely.

107 to several of the tombs.110 At Winchester, Bishop Fox donated new presbytery screens in c.1525, and the project seems to have involved moving and re-labeling some tombs. These were newly identified by carved stone tablets built into the new choir screen.111 Fox also ordered the refashioning of the chests holding bones of former benefactors, including adding painted inscriptions. Browne Willis in the eighteenth century noted that the bones of two eleventh-century archbishops of York were deposited in Peterborough Abbey, and on the monuments inscriptions were made “in modern caracters (sic) in Capitals.”112 The confusion caused by tablets added to tombs at Canterbury Cathedral in the seventeenth century has been discussed by Morris.113 An inscription added later, however, may have replaced an earlier one. Substantial documentary evidence from the twelfth and thirteenth centuries survives to suggest that the practice of labeling tombs was quite common. Matthew Paris recorded several epitaphs in his Chronica Majora, the wording of some of which indicates that the epitaphs existed in proximity to the tomb. Where these epitaphs include the phrases (or something similar) “hic requiescat” or “hic jacet,” they securely can be understood as tablets or inscriptions placed at the tomb site. Roger of Wendover, for example, recorded

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E.g. Hamilton Rogers, on Bishop Stapeldon's tomb at Exeter: “Over are the arms of Stapledon…. There is a long inscription on that portion of the monument facing the north choir aisle, written by John Hooker, Chamberlain of Exeter in 1554.” Hoker made a similar inscription for the retrospective tomb of Leofric. For example, the inscription for bishop Aylmer's remains, cited in Milner, and earlier noted in the 1715 publication by Samuel Gale: “‘corpus ethelmari, cujus cos nunc tenet istud sarum, parisiis morte datur tumulo. Ob anno 1261’.” See more recently Biddle, “Early Renaissance at Winchester,” Winchester Cathedral: Nine Hundred Years, 1093-1993, ed. J Crook (Chichester, 1993), 263-67. Itals mine. Bodl Ms Willis 38, 51: “Behind the H Altar in the Library on the N side an arch over a Tomb on the side of the Tomb this in modern caracters in Capitals: Hic Deposita sunt ossa elfrici archiepi ebor 1051. Adjoining to the last a like mont and on the side this in like lettres: Hic posita sunt ossa kensini archiepi Ebor 1059.” These surely were added after the altar was taken down and the remains discovered, as noted by Gunton in the seventeenth century, see n.121 below. Morris, “Tombs of the Archbishops,” 14-15.

108 an epitaph or verse in his discussion of King John's burial, which began with “hoc in sarcophago.”114 At Malmesbury Abbey, late twelfth-century writings testified to the discovery of inscriptions identifying the remains of St Dunstan and King Arthur.115 Even in the likely event that these inscriptions were forged, the very fact of their being noted in the twelfth century testifies to the currency of inscriptions at least in the twelfth century. William of Malmesbury, however, cited an instance of an ecclesiastical tomb inscription made not in the twelfth century, but in the eighth. The eighth-century Bishop Cuthbert arranged for a tomb for six of his episcopal predecessors at Hereford, on which, as William records, Cuthbert “wrote these verses...: ‘This marble slab now covers bodies six Of men of high renown among us once. Its high roofed tomb in marvelous beauty made Has in its care and keeping their remains. I, Cuthbert, bishop after them, these graves Have built and named that I might honour them.’”116 Symeon of Durham, writing just after the Conquest, noted that the eighth-century grave of Acca, Bishop of Lindisfarne (d.740), outside Hexham church, was marked by a headstone cross with an inscription.117 While documentary evidence in the form of wills describing how the deceased wished his tomb to look is rare, two surviving ecclesiastical wills show that for some testators, inscriptions were important enough to be formally requested. Dean John

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Roger of Wendover, The Flowers of History, vol. II, 378-9. Others were such long laudatory verses, much more than just a label, that envisioning them to have been recorded at the site of the tomb is a challenge. They instead may have been composed for his readers or were spoken at the funeral. Antonia Gransden, “The Growth of the Glastonbury Traditions and Legends in the Twelfth Century,” Journal of Ecclesiastical History 27, no. 4 (Oct. 1976), 349-50, tells the story of the 'find' in 1191, which included a lead cross with inscription in the grave. William of Malmesbury, GP, iv.163. Itals mine. The inscription goes on to name each of the six persons buried. Cuthbert was later Archbishop of Canterbury, in c.740. Symeon of Durham, The Historical Works of Symeon of Durham, ed. J Stevenson, Church Histories of England, vol. III, pt. 2 (1855), 443. For other eighth-century examples, although not necessarily ecclesiastical, see Saul, English Church Monuments, 335-37.

109 Aquablanca's will, made in 1319, requested a tomb at Hereford with the image of a dean and lettering “sculpted” around it.118 Bishop Rickingale's will (d.1429) specified that his tomb at Chichester have both an effigy and an inscription.119 Sally Badham found a number of late medieval secular wills that specify very carefully the wording of the inscription, and she pointed out that judging by the surviving documentationthis particular element, so often overlooked, may have been the most important detail for the testator.120 It thus seems likely that the extant incised, inlaid, or painted lettering formed part of the original manufacture of the tomb, specified by the bishop or by his executors. Added to these examples of visible inscriptions are the curious instances of name plaques found within the coffin itself. The two burials of York archbishops at Peterborough included lead plaques inside each chest, with the archbishop's name thereon.121 The use of a lead plaque inside the coffin has been attested in several instances at Canterbury. A burial uncovered in 1787 was said to have had within it an inscription on a lead plaque identifying the coffin as belonging to Archbishop Theobald.122 This helped to settle the uncertainty over the identification of the coped

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Dean Aquablanca's will is printed in Capes, 186-90: “I also wish and command that upon my tomb there should be placed a suitable stone with the image of a dean in ecclesiastical vestments with my name sculpted around it” (itals mine). Also see J Gardner, “Tomb of Bishop Peter of Aquablanca,” 105. The tomb survives but is heavily damaged and the edges are cut down. The inscription, if it was made according to the will, is no longer visible. Rickingdale (d. 1429), Tummers, “The Medieval Effigial Tombs in Chichester Cathedral,” Church Monuments III (1988), 19. Badham, “Status and Salvation,” 439, inscriptions were “of prime importance.” Symon Gunton, The History of the Church of Peterborough (London, 1686), 98. The burials were in the old altar, and when it was taken down, on the north side “in two hollow places of the Wall were found two Chests of about 3 foot long a piece, in each of which were the bones of a Man, and of whom appeared by a Plate of Lead in each Chest, whereon the name of the person was engraven; in the one was Elfricus, on the other Kynsius, both which [sic] had been Arch-Bishops of York, and being dead, their bodies were interred in the Monastery of Peterburgh, where formerly they had been Monks.” An inscription on a plate of lead, found in 1787, said in capital letters ‘to the venerable memory of Theobald…’ (Morris, “Archbishops' Tombs”). Hasted also discussed this find in 1800.

110 tomb in the south part of the Trinity Chapel, which had long been attributed to Archbishop Theobald (Fig. 5), but was correctly identified as Hubert's in 1882.123 Matthew Paris mentioned a lead plaque that had been put into the Canterbury tomb of Archbishop Dunstan.124 Another was found in the tomb of Archbishop Richard, Becket’s immediate successor.125 Nearby, in the abbey church of St Augustine's, lead plaques have been found from a number of burials of benefactors and abbots, and are currently on display in the museum (Fig. 25). Those in the south transept of the Norman church may have been added to the coffins of the abbey's benefactors when they were reburied in the late eleventh century.126 The same phenomenon was noted at the cathedral of Winchester. A lead plaque was found on top of the box that contained a heart burial for Bishop Nicholas of Ely (d.1280), and the remains of Bishop Fox (d.1528), the man responsible for rearranging other tombs, were identified by a note written on vellum and placed in a lead box in his coffin.127 The practice apparently extended to relatives of bishops. Found

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First to correctly identify the tomb as Hubert's was WA Scott Robertson, “Christ Church Canterbury, Chronological conspectus of the Existing Architecture” Archaeologica Cantiana 14 (1882). On the opening of Hubert's tomb in 1890, see Morris, “Archbishops' Tombs,” (1890) and St John Hope, Vetusta Monumenta VII, I (1893). Noted in Somner, “The ancient custome [i.e. twelfth century] was to put laminan plumbean a plate of lead with the interred parties [sic] name inscribed on it, into the sepulchre with the corps [sic].” His source for this custom is an entry by Matthew Paris in 1257. The custom was also noted at Peterborough by Gunton, 98: “but a plate of Lead was put into the Coffin having the name of the deceased party, and so it was done to Dunstane, Arch-Bishop of Cbury, as Matthew Paris witnesseth.” Somner, 241. St Augustine's Abbey, Canterbury, ed. R Gem (London: English Heritage, 1997), 116. These are described as “coffin plates,” but it is unclear whether they were on the lid or inside the coffin. Either way, they would only be visible if the burial was uncovered. Two of them were for members of the Kentish royal family (with name and date of death and title). The examples of lead labels on display at the museum represent the burials of people from the eleventh century and beyond. One says it was made in the twelfth century at the reburial of a Kentish king. Several abbots of the eleventh century are also represented by these plaques. For Nicholas of Ely (d.1280), see Vaughan, 38, who thought the lettering was contemporary with the burial. The burial was opened in 1887. Matthew Bloxam, Fragmenta Sepulchralia: A Glimpse of the Sepulchral and early Monumental Remains of Great Britain, dated between 1840-50, 96-8, on Fox's burial. He was dug up in 1820. The vellum stated his name, date of death, and the number of years that

111 in a churchyard grave near the west door of the cathedral of Lincoln was a lead plaque giving the deceased's name and describing his relationship to Bishop Remigius.128 At Wells the transformation of visible fillet inscriptions into tablets to be buried with the remains shows that placing an identifying label inside was thought to be important there in the early fourteenth century. Placing these identifying markers in the coffin, out of human sight, suggests that the interred expected that his burial would be opened or moved one day, perhaps for his future canonization. Alternatively, albeit less pragmatically, it may have been thought that such inscriptions might, like the episcopal vestments and insignia that were also buried with the bishop's remains, serve as useful identifiers at the day of Resurrection. Identification of a tomb or burial seems to have been important both to the institutions, for a multitude of reasons, and to the individual. Nor was the practice unique to England. In Europe, as in England, there are enough surviving inscriptions from the twelfth and thirteenth centuries to indicate that labels were an important feature for identifying the effigy of the deceased. To name just a few, twelfth-century examples in Europe include the bronze effigy for Rudolf of Swabia, three stone abbesses' effigies at Quedlinburg, and the tombs of the Merovingian kings at the Abbey of St-Germain.129 The

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he served as bishop. Dingley's History of Marble, vol. 97, cccxc, includes an illustration of the lead plaque. He read it as “here lies William son of Walter A.... consanguinei bp Reminsiu of Lincoln who did this church.” The editor of Dingley's work says this plaque is still preserved. See also Gough, Sepulchral Monuments, vol. ii, pl. 14. On the abbesses at Quedlinburg and other tombs there with inscriptions, see Blough. On the Frankish tombs from St-Germain-des-Prés, Erlande-Brandenberg, “Un gisant royal,” with illustrations. The tombs were redone in the mid-twelfth century, and bases added in the seventeenth. Not all had inscriptions, for example the tombs of Fredegonde and Childebert are without. It is possible that some of the inscriptions could have been added in the seventeenth century. However, in works done at StGermain in 1656 (recorded in a history of the abbey in 1724), when a number of tombs was found, the

112 thirteenth-century tile tombs of abbots at Jumièges each have a very clear inscription on the trefoiled canopy around each figure's head, as did five now-destroyed tile tombs made for abbots at St-Wandrille, nearby.130 Episcopal examples, among many, include the bronze effigies of Evrard de Fouilloi at Amiens and Archbishop von Wettin at Magdeburg.131

The imagery and forms chosen for English effigial tombs are strikingly consistent when compared to the great variety of options found on the continent. Taken in aggregate, the iconographical trends for effigial tombs for the clergy during the twelfth and thirteenth centuries place great emphasis—mainly visual, but also textual—on the position of the bishop. This line of discussion will be picked up again in Chapter 5. A certain amount of conservatism or inexperience among sculptors may have contributed to the relative restriction of decorative choices in England, but the leading role of highranking members of the English clergy in introducing and in continuing to choose these effigial designs comes to the fore in the foregoing analysis. By the mid-thirteenth century, sculptural conventions were entrenched enough that three bishops could have three effigies of almost exactly similar type, but the stylistic evidence from the twelfth

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tomb for Childeric was noted as having an inscription with his name “sur un panneau de tete de sarcophage.” Norton, 148-50. The inscriptions for the abbots at Jumièges were placed on each effigy's trefoil head canopy. Norton, 153-4, also noted two other French tombs very similar to the Jumièges tombs in general imagery, one dating mid-thirteenth century, the other c.1233; each also has an inscription on the trefoiled arch, and the latter has more around the edges of the slab. As for the five now-destroyed tile tombs for abbots at St-Wandrille, according to a seventeenth-century visitor, “leurs noms sont ecrits a l'entour de leurs testes” (Norton, 155-6). The squared frame, as well as the trefoiled arch, serves as the ground for the inscription on the metal effigy of Bishop Evrard at Amiens (Bauch, 76-7; Sauerländer, 467). Von Wettin at Magdeburg has an inscription in three registers at the top of the slab, behind his head (Bauch, 28). See also Bauch, 30, for others with an inscription on the frame.

113 and early thirteenth centuries suggests that the earliest effigies were specific commissions, for the execution of which sculptors in England had to turn to imported models for inspiration. These early commissions seem to have been initiated by individual bishops, and clearly had great appeal. The role of the cathedral chapter or other institutional group in the commissioning and design process emerges more definitively in determining issues of placement and overall prominence of the monument; this is the topic of Chapter 3.

114 Chapter 3: Bishop, Chapter, and Burial

The relationship of a bishop to his chapter and to the cathedral church was varied and complex, the “sua ecclesia” (“his church”) often written by contemporary chroniclers notwithstanding. This situation had implications for episcopal burials, which, especially given the increasing size of monuments over the centuries, imposed a significant presence within the spaces cared for and used constantly by the monks or canons who constituted the cathedral chapter. The siting and form of a tomb, the tomb's physical relationship to the surrounding spaces and to the daily activities in the church, was a matter of great import to both the bishop and the chapter, for different reasons. Episcopal monuments, then, demand consideration as the results of, to use Binski's words, “politics of space.”1 The following study examines the physical consequences of late medieval episcopal burial by illustrating how the insertion of episcopal tombs affected the interiors of the churches of Salisbury, Ely and Hereford. It then explores several motivations, both individual and communal, that might have governed choices of location and, to some degree, form. Bishops' preferences are discernible from the written and physical evidence, but the chapter emerges as a more significant force behind determining burial place and type for a bishop than has previously been considered.2 What appears from this investigation is a system of exchange and compromise, from which both the religious community and the individual could benefit. Ultimately, the aspects of the decision-

1 Binski, Medieval Death, 72. 2 With the exception of Wilson in his chapter on Canterbury tombs, “Medieval Monuments,” 451-89.

115 making process discussed here support notions that the physical structure of the tomb was integral to the progress towards salvation. The design and placement of the tomb are two factors in this progress, but more important, perhaps, was that the tomb became the impetus for the development of a workable, if not always amicable, relationship with the chapter, their prayers being indispensable to the bishop for his salvation.

Part I: Comparative plans The churches at Salisbury, Ely and Hereford used here as a basis for discussion were chosen for their varied characteristics and for the relatively large amount of surviving information regarding their medieval tombs. The new cathedral at Salisbury, begun in the 1220s, was constructed on a virgin site and designed specifically for the needs of its secular chapter. How episcopal burial was treated in this carefully designed structure merits investigation. A number of episcopal tombs survive at Salisbury from the period under question, along with information about their original locations within the church. For those tombs no longer extant, descriptions exist.3 Ely, a more typical

3 The tombs were rearranged as part of a renovation scheme overseen by the architect James Wyatt from c.1789-92, but several outraged antiquaries and artists recorded the pre-renovation layout. A second renovation also took place in the nineteenth century. The best early non-printed sources for the tombs include sketches taken by John Carter in 1781, BL Add Ms 29925; volumes I, O and S in the Wiltshire Archaeological Society Library, Devizes, which include drawings by Thomas Trotter and by F Nash, F Mackenzie, G and R Cattermole, and T Baxter taken for J Britton's history of the Cathedral. Printed sources include Leland's observations in The Itinerary of John Leland in or about the years 1535-43, LT Smith, ed. (London, 1964), vol. I, 262-69; R Rawlinson, The History and Antiquities of the Cathedral Church of Salisbury and the Abbey Church of Bath (1723), and reprinted in Price, A Series of particular and useful Observations (London, 1774); R Gough, Sepulchral Monuments, vol. I; JR Planché, “On the Sepulchral Effigies in Salisbury Cathedral” JBAA (1859); AR Malden, “The Burial Places of the Bishops of Salisbury,” The Wiltshire Archaeological and Natural History Magazine (1912); and most recently S Brown, Sumptuous and Richly Adorn'd: The Decoration of Salisbury Cathedral (London, 1999); as well as various bibliography on individual tombs, for which, see entries in Appendix I. Several notes regarding locations of tombs are to be found in the chapter records; these are compiled in WH Rich Jones, Fasti Ecclesiae Sarisberiensis, vol. 1 (London, 1879).

116 cathedral church than Salisbury, consisted of a pre-existing Norman building which was extended towards the east in the thirteenth century and received further alterations through the fourteenth and fifteenth centuries. Also unlike Salisbury, the Benedictine community at Ely hosted an active pilgrimage site, focused on the Anglo-Saxon female saints whose shrines sat in the eastern end of the church. Information about the distribution of Ely burials is extracted from manuscript versions of the Liber Eliensis and the Ely Chronicon as well as from existing tombs and from post-medieval documentation.4 Hereford presents an unusual third example because of its late thirteenth-century cult to Thomas Cantilupe, and its late thirteenth-/early fourteenthcentury remodeling, which included a retrospective series of ten bishops' tombs.5 The

4 For printed versions of the Liber Eliensis, see EO Blake, ed., Liber Eliensis, Camden Third Series vol. XCII (1962) and J Fairweather, trans., Liber Eliensis: A History of the Isle of Ely from the Seventh Century to the Twelfth (Woodbridge, 2005). The Chronicon Abbatum et Episcoporum Eliensium is found in BL Ms Cotton Nero A XV and XVI and LPL Ms 448. These extend into the fourteenth and fifteenth centuries. BL Add Ms 3721 is a copy of the Chronicon which goes to the late fifteenth century. The Lambeth manuscript was published by H Wharton, Anglia Sacra, vol. I (London, 1691), 591-688, and parts of the Cotton Nero manuscripts were printed in W Dugdale, Monasticon Anglicanum, vol. I (London, 1655). Other antiquarian publications on the church and its objects include J Stevens, The History of the Antient Abbeys, Monasteries, Hospitals, Cathedral and Collegiate Churches, being two Additional volumes to Sir William Dugdale’s Monasticon Anglicanum, vol. I (London, 1722), 398-99; Browne Willis, A Survey of the Cathedrals of Lincoln, Ely, Oxford, Peterborough (1730); J Bentham, The History and Antiquities of the Conventual and Cathedral Church of Ely: from the Foundation of the Monastery, AD 673, to the Year 1771, second edn. (Norwich, 1812); W Stevenson, A Supplement to the Second Edition of Mr Bentham's History (Norwich, 1817). On the architecture of the late medieval church, see J Maddison, “The Gothic Cathedral: New Building in a Historic Context,” A History of Ely Cathedral, eds. P Meadows and N Ramsay (Woodbridge, 2003), 113-142. For the post-medieval renovations, see T Cocke, “The history of the fabric from 1541-1836,” History of Ely Cathedral, eds. Meadows and Ramsay, 213-225. 5 Important works for Hereford tombs include Leland, vol. V, 160-185; Thomas Dingley, History from Marble Compiled in the Reign of Charles II, JG Nichols, ed., Camden Society, old series, 94, 97 (London, 1867-68); R Rawlinson, The History and Antiquities of the City and Cathedral Church of Hereford (London, 1717); B Willis, A Survey of the Cathedrals of York, Durham, Carlisle, Chester, Man, Lichfield, Hereford, Worcester, Gloucester and Bristol (London, 1727); J Britton, The History and Antiquities of the Cathedral Church of Hereford (London, 1831); C. Boutell, “Tombs and Monumental Sculpture in Hereford Cathedral” JBAA 27 (1871), 191-98; M H Bloxam, “On Certain Sepulchral Effigies in Hereford Cathedral,” Archaeological Journal 34 (1877), 406-24; FT Havergal, Monumental Inscriptions in the Cathedral Church of Hereford (1881); Royal Commission on the Historical Monuments of England, An Inventory of the Historical Monuments in Herefordshire, vol. I (London, 1931), 90-117; Nicola Coldstream, “The Medieval Tombs and the Shrine of Saint Thomas

117 retrospective series provides an instructive contrast in that these episcopal tombs were instigated by the community rather than by the individual, and reflect communal, rather than personal, concerns. The plans made to illustrate this chapter (Figs. 26, 27, 28) plot episcopal tombs from the twelfth century (if known) through the turn of the sixteenth century. Liturgical fittings such as altars and shrines are indicated in purple, and tombs are color-coded by century. Solid rectangles indicate a raised structure, while outlined rectangles indicate flat slabs. Each tomb is given a number; references made to a specific tomb in the text will be identified by the figure number and the corresponding tomb number on the plan. NB: Some placements of monuments and altars are conjectural, due to lack of specific evidence, though as much as possible they reflect the information known. The twelfth- or thirteenth-century effigial tombs mentioned in the chapter have full descriptive entries in Appendix I.

Part II: What governed choices? Shrine presence and location I begin with a discussion of saints' shrines within cathedral churches because scholars generally accept the preeminence of a saint’s resting place as a magnet for late medieval episcopal burials. Peter Draper, writing on the shrines at Ely, stated “The

Cantilupe,” Hereford Cathedral: A History, G Aylmer and J Tiller, eds. (London, 2000), chapter 14. On the retrospective series in particular, see PG Lindley, “Retrospective Effigies, the Past and Lies,” Medieval Art, Architecture and Archaeology at Hereford, BAACT, D Whitehead, ed. (Leeds, 1995), 111-21. On the architectural remodeling in the early fourteenth century, see RK Morris, “The Remodelling of the Hereford Aisles” JBAA 37 (1974), 21-39; and idem, “The Architectural History of the Medieval Cathedral Church,” Hereford Cathedral, Aylmer and Tiller, eds., 218-23.

118 location of the episcopal tombs may ... be an indication of the position of the shrine.”6 Sarah Brown, making a case for the location of the shrine at Salisbury in the Trinity Chapel, stated that the evidence provided by a number of episcopal burials in that chapel “clinches the argument.”7 Nicola Coldstream in a short chapter on the medieval burials at Hereford stated that “the main focal points for the later medieval burials were the shrines of St Thomas Cantilupe.”8 The relationship between tomb and shrine is so strongly assumed by RK Morris that he uses the evidence provided by tombs at Hereford to confirm the fortunes of the cult of St Thomas: “Material evidence for the various intentions and postponements [of the canonization] can be plotted in the location of various medieval tombs in the cathedral.”9 The popular belief in the Middle Ages in the transference of sanctity through physical proximity to a saint and in the ability of saints to intercede on a person's behalf does suggest that burial near a shrine would have been a highly attractive proposition, but the evidence for burial near the main cathedral shrine is less certain than generally supposed. Plotting the later medieval burials at Ely, Salisbury and Hereford cathedrals suggests that among episcopal figures, burial near the shrine was a relatively rare phenomenon. At Hereford, the fact that neither of the two bishops who worked so actively to acquire a new episcopal saint for Hereford chose to be buried close to the sanctified remains provides a strong argument against shrines as a focus for episcopal burial. By 1287, the bones of Bishop Thomas Cantilupe were buried under the monument 6 P Draper, “Bishop Northwold and the Cult of Saint Etheldreda,” Medieval Art and Architecture at Ely Cathedral, BAACT (Leeds, 1979), 13. 7 Brown, Sumptuous and Richly Adorn'd, 22. 8 Coldstream, 323. 9 Morris, “Architectural History,” 222.

119 constructed for him in the northwest transept (Fig. 26, no. 2), the most recently updated part of the church.10 Richard Swinfield, Thomas's successor as bishop as well as his executor, actively sought Thomas's canonization from the 1290s. A formal papal inquisition in 1307 resulted in canonization in 1320, not long after Swinfield's own death in 1317. At the time of Swinfield's death, Thomas's bones were still located in the tomb in the northwest transept, the location that had hosted the many miracles that had led to Thomas's canonization.11 Swinfield, however, chose to be interred closer to the eastern end of the church, in a mural tomb against the north wall of the northeast transept (Fig. 26, no. 3). This decision might have been made with the expectation that, once canonized, Thomas's bones would receive a more appropriate shrine for his sanctified remains, and that this shrine would be located in the eastern part of the church.12 Swinfield's will did in fact provide money for a new shrine, indicating that he clearly anticipated a translation in the near future.13 As it happened, however, Thomas's bones were not translated to the new shrine until 1349, and that shrine was constructed in the Lady Chapel, not in the same part of the church as Swinfield's chosen place of burial.14

10 For Cantilupe's life, canonization and cult, see M Jancey, ed., St Thomas Cantilupe, Bishop of Hereford: Essays in his Honour (Hereford, 1982). Cantilupe died abroad in 1282 after seven years as bishop of Hereford. His flesh was buried at the monastery of San Severo outside Orvieto. His bones were kept in the Hereford Lady Chapel at first, then by 1287 were moved into the northwest transept. Partly the delay was caused by Archbishop Pecham, who refused to allow Thomas's burial in Hereford until 1283. In addition, it may have taken some time for the tomb to be readied. He died unexpectedly, and probably had not already commissioned a tomb. 11 Says RC Finucane's entry on Cantilupe in the DNB: “Between 1287 and 1312 nearly 500 miracles were recorded as evidence of his sanctity, a figure surpassed in the surviving records of medieval England only by the 700 attributed to Thomas Becket.” 12 As suggested in Morris, “Architectural History,” 219. 13 A receipt was made in 1336/7 from the Dean and Chapter to his executors for items received, including 100 marks for construction of shrine of St Thomas: WW Capes, ed., Charters and Records of Hereford Cathedral (1908), 220-1. It is not stated where this shrine was to be placed, and a decision may not yet have been made. 14 Leland, vol. V, 163, gives the dates; the location in the Lady Chapel is noted by Lt Hammond in 1634, BL Ms Lansdowne 213, fol. 333b. The placement of a shrine in the easternmost chapel has been shown

120 Although Swinfield’s tomb easily could have occupied a site in or nearer to the Lady Chapel which would have more obviously expressed his devotion to Thomas, its position is still usually explained in relation to the shrine, in part due to another scheme which saw fruition during his episcopate: the series of retrospective monuments erected for Hereford bishops who led the diocese from the Norman period to the early thirteenth century. These ten monuments were arranged in two tidy symmetrical groups along the north and south presbytery aisles (Fig. 26, nos. R1-10), and, although constructed before Thomas’s canonization, are generally thought to have been built in anticipation of the shrine’s construction in the Lady Chapel.15 Swinfield’s choice of placement is thus generally interpreted as an intentional interpolation of his body between the retrospective monuments and the shrine at the apex of the arrangement, bringing each bishop together in a historical and spiritual succession expressed visually by the tombs. While Swinfield’s tomb certainly does position the bishop in this desirable lineage—a lineage which was shortly to be augmented by the inclusion of an officially recognized episcopal saint—it is also possible to interpret his choice of burial place as directly following the precedents set by the tombs of Bishops Cantilupe and Aquablanca (Fig. 26, nos. 1,2; Cat. 10), Swinfield's immediate predecessors and unfortunately the only episcopal monuments surviving from the thirteenth century at Hereford. Neither of the two earlier tombs was influenced by the location of the relics of St Ethelbert, housed in the presbytery of to be a late medieval phenomenon in English cathedrals: see J Crook, “St Swithun of Winchester,” Winchester Cathedral: Nine Hundred Years, ed. J Crook (Chichester, 1993), 57-68. At Hereford, the eastern placement may have been because relics of St Ethelbert were already in the presbytery: see below, n.16. 15 Morris, “Remodelling,” is the core work on dating the Hereford aisles, esp. p. 25-6 on their construction in relation to the shrine; Lindley, “Retrospective Effigies,” 111 and 118-19; Coldstream, 324. Morris, “Architectural History,” 219 stated that the retrospective series “culminates” with Bishop Swinfield’s tomb.

121 Hereford long before Cantilupe's cult existed.16 All three of these bishops chose burial in a northern subsidiary chapel, near to an altar. The fact that Swinfield followed their example suggests that such a location, near an altar and in an essentially private chapel, met needs for commemoration that a shrine could not.17 Hitherto, the tomb of Bishop Thomas Charlton (d.1343) has also been understood in terms of the shrine. It has been suggested that his site against the north wall of the northwest transept (Fig. 26, no. 4) was chosen for its proximity to the Cantilupe tomb (Fig. 26, no. 2), and can be taken as evidence that interest in translating the bones to a shrine further east was waning.18 It is possible, however, that Charlton’s placement can be seen as conforming to the existing pattern evident in episcopal burials at Hereford in which episcopal tombs hug the periphery of the eastern half of the church. It is especially curious that Bishop Trillek (d.1361), who effected the completion of the shrine in the Lady Chapel and oversaw the translation, was not buried in a tomb near to it; indeed, his brass slab lay in the floor of the presbytery (Fig. 26, no. 5), physically separated from the shrine by the terminal eastern piers of the presbytery, a division no doubt reinforced by a

16 Ethelbert (d.794) of East Anglia was said in the Anglo-Saxon Chronicle to have been buried at Hereford. R Swanson and D Lepine, “The Later Middle Ages, 1268-1535,” Hereford Cathedral, eds. Aylmer and Tiller, 83-4, place Ethelbert in the presbytery near the high altar, against the south arcade where Bishop Mayhew was later buried. Morris, “Architectural History,” 224, noted that Mayhew was buried “by the image of St Ethelbert.” This “image” dated to the mid fourteenth century. Morris, “Architectural History,” 210, thus believed that Ethelbert was kept in the presbytery in the late Middle Ages. B Nilson, Cathedral Shrines of Medieval England (Woodbridge, 1998), however, stated that according to the Anglo-Saxon Chronicle the relics were stolen in 1055. The confused information about the relics may testify to its relative unimportance as a cult. 17 The northeast transept was the site of the chapel of St James by the late fourteenth century, and housed an altar to St Stephen by the second half of the thirteenth century and to James and Margaret from 1346. See the plan in Aylmer, GE and J Tiller, eds., Hereford Cathedral, 84-5, showing placement of altars, chapels, etc. 18 Coldstream, 324, and Morris, “Architectural History,” 222. Morris also stated that twenty years after the translation, the tomb of Bishop Lewis Charlton (d.1369; Fig. 26, no. 6) was built close to the Lady Chapel in the southeast transept, thereby proving renewed interest in the shrine. An altar-based explanation, however, can be offered in this instance as well as the others.

122 screen behind the high altar. His choice of a flat brass slab allowed him great flexibility of placement, and with this flexibility, he chose to be close to the high altar. The lack of episcopal burial near the shrine was evidently not a result of geographical restrictions imposed by the religious community. A c.1320 tomb to a dean or precentor was placed in the retrochoir just outside the chapel, and two laypersons were buried in the north wall of the chapel in the fourteenth century.19 Throughout the later Middle Ages, the only bishop to seek burial in the Lady Chapel was Bishop Audley, who built a chantry chapel on the south side of it in the early sixteenth century (Fig. 26, no. 10). The focus of his devotion, however, was more likely to have been the Virgin rather than St Thomas, as the decoration of his chapel implies, and as is also indicated by the imagery and location of his later chantry chapel built at Salisbury, in which he was actually buried.20 The same underlying assumption that tombs and shrines were associated has affected the scholarship regarding the shrine of St Osmund at Salisbury, to which Osmund’s relics were translated in 1457 after a long-delayed canonization.21 Although the eastern bays of the presbytery were designed to accommodate a shrine from the 19 Only one of these non-episcopal burials was put in place after Cantilupe's remains had been translated to the new shrine, though if the plan was in place from an earlier time, then the earlier two may also have been motivated by the shrine's presence. Morris, “Architectural History,” 224, suggested that Johanna de Bohun's c.1327 burial (once featuring a painting of the Virgin) in the Lady Chapel may have had more to do with the Virgin's altar than the shrine. Thus, Morris recognized that there may have been other motivating factors behind choice of placement, but did not apply that reasoning to all the tombs. The identification of the clerical tomb in the retrochoir is unknown. He appears in various sources as Dean Borew or Precentor John Swinfield (d.1311); both names suit the carved rebus on the mural arch. The effigy matches closely in style with that carved for Dean Aquablanca (d.1320) in the north transept. 20 His chantry at Hereford features a carved boss of the assumption of the Virgin. At Salisbury, his chantry altar, like the high altar at Salisbury, was dedicated to the assumption of the Virgin, and was placed under the arcade immediately adjacent to the high altar. 21 On St Osmund, see AR Malden, ed., The Canonization of St Osmund, from the Manuscript Records in the Muniment Room of Salisbury Cathedral (Salisbury, 1901) and WJ Torrance, The Story of Saint Osmund, Bishop of Salisbury (Salisbury, 1978).

123 beginning of the cathedral's construction in the early thirteenth century, and despite fifteenth-century documentary evidence suggesting that an altar to the saint (most likely adjoined to the shrine) stood behind the high altar in the presbytery, most scholars believe the shrine to have been located in the Trinity Chapel at the eastern tip of the church.22 They cite as primary evidence a change in choice of burial location made by Bishop Beauchamp, under whose episcopate the canonization occurred. Leland, a mid-sixteenth century visitor to the cathedral, is our only source for this information. He was told that Beauchamp first made arrangements for a tomb at the eastern end of the presbytery (Fig. 27, no. 16), then abandoned that site in favor of a second location in a chantry chapel on the south side of the Trinity Chapel (Fig. 27, no. 15).23 The switch is assumed by scholars to have been made in order to achieve greater proximity to the shrine, though no documentary or physical evidence proves that this was in fact Beauchamp’s goal—or even confirms that in fact Beauchamp did make such a switch.24 Evidence pertaining to

22 The first to suggest the Trinity Chapel position seems to have been Canon Wordsworth, Ceremonies and Processions of the Cathedral Church of Salisbury (Cambridge, 1901), 281. D Stroud, “The Cult and Tombs of St Osmund at Salisbury,” Wiltshire Archaeological and Natural History Magazine 78 (1984), 50-54, put forth the strongest case for the Trinity Chapel; see also T Cocke and P Kidson, Salisbury Cathedral: Perspectives on the Architectural History (RCHME, 1993), 13; Tim TattonBrown, “The Burial Places of St Osmund,” Spire (1999), 19-25; Brown, Sumptuous and Richly Adorn'd, 13, 21-2 and 114-16, allowed that the presbytery area was probably reserved for the shrine, but decided that in the event it was not put there; most recently, P Draper, The Formation of English Gothic: Architecture and Identity (New Haven, 2006), 212-13 agreed with Brown. I am working on an article which addresses the arrangement of the eastern end at Salisbury. The documentary evidence for the site behind the high altar is a late fifteenth-century processional noted by Wordsworth, Ceremonies, 280-1. The high altar and the altar of St Osmund were to be washed before the procession was directed to leave the presbytery by the north door to attend the altars in the northern transept chapels. Brown and Wordsworth were both aware of this, yet concluded anyway that the shrine was in the Trinity Chapel. 23 Leland, vol. I, 264. 24 Beauchamp's will, printed in Gough, Sepulchral Monuments, vol. II, appendix V, 273, only mentions one tomb. It is possible that Leland or his informant confused Beauchamp with Hungerford, the owner of the corresponding chapel to the north, and that the first tomb site originally belonged to Hungerford, an option which fits the Hungerford's story nicely (see n. 25 below). Even if Beauchamp did switch locations, proximity to the shrine need not be the only reason for Beauchamp’s choice of a larger, private chapel close to the altar where masses for the Virgin were said.

124 the lay burial of Lord Hungerford purported to have been near the shrine is also less certain than generally thought.25 Since burial near a shrine seems not to have been common practice for bishops, it is unwise to use the location of an episcopal tomb as evidence for the location of the shrine. In this particular case, the lack of incontestable evidence regarding either Beauchamp's tomb or the tomb for Lord Hungerford renders such assertions even less sound. At Salisbury, the only episcopal tomb that can be stated with some confidence to have had as a goal proximity to the shrine is that of Bishop Bingham (d.1246; Fig. 27, no. 4; Cat. 19). Despite the fact that the first bid for Osmund’s canonization in 1228 had not succeeded, the decorative program of the presbytery completed over the following two decades was intended for the shrine, illustrating a hope that the failed attempt at canonization would be reversed in the near future. This decorative program, according to Matthew Paris, was completed under Bingham’s episcopate (i.e. after 1228), and Bingham's burial just to the north of the space reserved for the shrine may have expressed his confidence in the sanctity of his predecessor.26 Alternatively, his burial there may have been chosen by the cathedral canons, if they felt that he had earned a tomb near to 25 In his will, Lord Hungerford (d.1459) asked to be buried near the altar of the saint. He ended up in the chantry chapel built later (1464-71) by his wife (d.1477), to the north of the Trinity Chapel. This has been cited as proof that the shrine was in the Trinity Chapel, but I suggest that we should be more cautious in making the assumption that his wife was following Lord Hungerford's wishes in building the chapel, especially given that it was not completed until some 12 years after his death. The statutes of the chapel, printed in Wordsworth, Ceremonies, 285-6, make clear that the chapel is dedicated to Jesus and the Virgin, not St Osmund, and prayers of supplication were offered to them rather than to Osmund. In fact, Osmund is not even mentioned, nor did he appear in the wall paintings recorded in the eighteenth century. H Shortt, The Hungerford and Beauchamp Chantry Chapels (Salisbury, 1970), 2-12, suggested the chapel was built to satisfy the wife, not her husband, as her tomb occupied the center while his stood against the wall. The chapel, then, may not have been built there because of the shrine. If we entertain the idea that Leland wrote Beauchamp when he instead meant Hungerford, the tomb site near the presbytery indeed would have placed Hungerford near the shrine if it was in fact in the presbytery; he was later moved to the northern chantry chapel which his wife built for her own tomb. 26 PZ Blum, “The Sequence of the Building Campaigns at Salisbury,” Art Bulletin 73 (1991), 14.

125 the (future) saint. Bishop Hugh of Northwold, who demonstrably played a leading role in financing the extension of Ely cathedral by a further six bays to the east, was said in Ely’s own chronicle to have been buried towards the east, “at the feet of” Saint Etheldreda (Fig. 28, no. 7; Cat. 3).27 Early fourteenth-century documents suggest that his contribution to the fabric was intended primarily to provide a more suitable setting for the shrines, and his burial near the shrine may be further proof of his dedication to the saints.28 Yet his burial was most likely not included within the enclosure of the feretory, and recent scholarship on the tomb places it further east of the shrines than previously supposed.29 While his burial may have received special treatment in relation to the saints, and was noted by contemporaries for its association with the saints, it is illuminating that he did not set a long-lasting trend. The burial of his successor, Bishop Kilkenny, was located in the north aisle, just as bishops before Northwold had been (Fig. 28, no. 8; Cat. 4). His tomb was described as being near the altar of St Andrew the Apostle, but a recent re-evaluation of the documentary evidence has called into question the existence of an altar to St Andrew: 'Andree' may have been a scribal error for 'Audree', or Etheldreda.30 If this was so, then

27 Bentham, 148, citing BL Ms Harley 258, said Northwold was “honourably buried behind the high altar at the feet of St Etheldreda in the middle of the presbytery.” DJ Stewart, On the Architectural History of Ely Cathedral (London, 1848), 134, cited the Lambeth Ms: “Hugh de Norwude versus orientem, juxta feretrum sce Etheldrede (jacet ad pedes sce Etheldrede, cor jacet juxta boias (?) 1254.” Eric RamírezWeaver suggested this might be an abbreviation for bonitas or bonitatis, i.e., the good one. Wharton, vol. I, 636, merely said he lay towards the east near the shrine, “versus orientem juxta feretrum.” Maddison, “The Gothic Cathedral,” 119, estimated that Northwold's recorded expenditures on the presbytery may have comprised three quarters of the total cost. 28 As noted in Draper, “Bishop Northwold,” 10, a fourteenth-century account of the fall of the crossing tower (1322) refers to the east end as the “new fabric above the sepulchres of the Holy Virgins,” whose goodwill protected the building from destruction. 29 Roberts, “Effigy of Bishop Hugh.” 30 Sayers, “A Once ‘Proud Prelate’: An Unidentified Episcopal Monument in Ely Cathedral,” BAAJ 162 (2009), 85, n. 22. The scribal error was in reference to the burial of Bishop John of Fountains, not

126 Kilkenny may also have lain near the shrine, to the north, although the addition of “Apostoli” in the description complicates the matter further. Two lay burials can be said with some certainty to have been near to the shrine: that of John Tiptoft, Earl of Worcester (d.1470), under the south arcade in bay four, and of Sir William Thorpe (d. c.1398), under a flat slab most likely in bay three.31 The tomb of Bishop Barnet (d.1373; Fig. 28, no. 15) was inserted 125 years later into the south arcade of bay five and is considered by most scholars to have been placed near the shrine, immediately to the south of it. This however ignores crucial evidence cited by Wharton from the Chronicon which described Barnet's tomb as “juxta magnum altare” rather than “juxta feretrum.”32 Barnet's tomb was thus perhaps not near the shrine, which must have been further east by 1373 (and possibly since the 1240s when the retrochoir was first extended).33 Canterbury, with its spacious Trinity Chapel built specially for the shrine of Thomas Becket, provides the model for the relationship of tombs to shrines. During the rebuilding of the eastern part of the church from 1175-84 after a fire, all tombs were moved out of the eastern end, some, such as the tombs of Archbishops Lanfranc and Theobald, not to be returned to their pre-fire positions or even to a place roughly

Kilkenny, but it is enough to throw the existence of an altar to St Andrew into doubt. The entry for Kilkenny, however, as cited by Wharton, specified that he was near the altar of St Andrew the Apostle. Was the addition of “Apostoli” also a scribal invention, or a later editorializing addition? 31 Relying on Stevens's plan rather than B Willis's: M Roberts, “Effigy of Bishop Hugh,” 83, n.38, believes Stevens to have been on-site and his plan possibly more accurate than Willis's. Thorpe made a donation to the convent and requested burial near the shrine in his will: VCH, Cambridge and the Isle of Ely, vol. IV (1953), 70. 32 Wharton, vol. I, 664. Wharton indicated that this section of the Chronicle was finished in 1388, at which point a new chronicler continued the narrative. Therefore the possibility that this is an accurate contemporary description is high. 33 This is corroborated by Stevens's 1722 plan, which shows the high altar in bay five, next to Barnet's tomb, in contrast to B Willis, who places it in bay six.

127 equivalent.34 In the post-fire eastern end, there appears to have been a deliberate policy to keep tombs out of the new Trinity Chapel and Corona.35 Only two archbishops were buried in this location. The first monument, that of Hubert Walter (d.1205; Fig. 5), who died before the official translation of the relics to the shrine, was placed against the south wall of the Trinity Chapel. His burial is usually understood as a great concession made to the archbishop in gratitude for decisions made in the convent's favor.36 Hubert's tomb, while substantially taller than other hipped-roof monuments and of high quality carved Purbeck, is tucked away on the south side, against the exterior wall and between piers, rather than proudly exhibited under the arcade surrounding the shrine. From the late fourteenth century, however, a great influx of royal tombs began to fill the arcades, indicating a relaxation of restrictions around Becket's shrine.37 Notably, the only archiepiscopal burial to appear here was that of William Courtenay (d.1396), and this was arranged contrary to his own wishes. Rather than be buried at his foundation at Maidstone, for which he had prepared, a tomb was built for him in the south arcade of the Trinity Chapel because his friend King Richard II ordered that he be buried in the Trinity Chapel, not because of the saint, as might be expected, but because King Richard wanted Courtenay buried at the feet of the king's father.38 The case of Archbishop Courtenay

34 The monks Gervase and Eadmer are the best contemporary sources for the tombs: see R Willis, Architectural History of Canterbury Cathedral, chapters 1 and 3. Lanfranc (d.1089) was moved out in 1180 and later put in the northeast transept. Theobald (d.1161) was also moved out and placed in the Lady Chapel in the nave. 35 Wilson, “Medieval Monuments,” 452-4. 36 Ibid., 454. It is possible, even, that the offer of a tomb in this area was made in order to help influence Hubert's decision to abandon the scheme to move the seat of the archbishop to another location. Wilson, 459, suggested that the convent used similar tactics in offering the location near the altar where Thomas Becket was murdered as an enticement for Archbishop Pecham (d.1292; Cat. 1) to keep his body at Canterbury rather than be buried with the Greyfriars. 37 Ibid., 495. 38 Ibid., 472-3. Even the design of the tomb, an alabaster tomb chest, was different to the flat slab for

128 suggests that even with a weakening of restrictions regarding burial around the shrine, the episcopal elite had other preferences regarding placement of their monuments. While I would not assert that bishops were not interested in having a tomb near a shrine, the evidence at these four churches shows that episcopal burial near shrines in the later Middle Ages may have been more rare than is normally thought. Two lines of reasoning emerge to explain this. Restrictions on burial near the shrine may have been enforced by the community, as is suggested for Canterbury—though the presence of the occasional layperson's or bishop's tomb near a shrine in some cathedral churches proves that this was not a universal phenomenon or that restrictions could be relaxed.39 It is also possible that other sites in the cathedral were thought to have held greater advantage for the bishop. The current investigation of trends in burial placement and form reveals an overwhelming preference for locations near an altar, suggesting that a site that combined the power of saintly relics with the sacrament of the Eucharist was a powerful draw for episcopal burials.

Bishops' burials and altars The built and documentary evidence shows that in the twelfth and thirteenth centuries, episcopal burials proliferated at subsidiary altars placed at various locations in the eastern end of the church. At Ely, the altar of the Holy Cross at the entrance to the choir was a place favored by bishops in the early twelfth century (Fig. 28; nos. 1,2). Later

which he had arranged before his death. 39 Generally speaking, there are a greater number of lay tombs near shrines than episcopal. For example, Lord Hungerford in his will asked specifically to be put near altar of St Osmund at Salisbury; at Ely, two of the tombs closest to the shrines were for laity; at Hereford, three non-episcopal burials were near Cantilupe's shrine; and at Canterbury, it is laypeople who predominate in the Trinity Chapel.

129 in the century bishops' tombs became more widely dispersed, expanding into the north and south presbytery aisles, at the altars of St Mary, St Martin, and ?St Andrew (Fig. 28, nos. 3,4,5,6). Even after Hugh of Northwold’s extension at Ely provided much greater space to the east near the shrine in the 1240s, Hugh's own example of burial in this space (Fig. 28, no. 7) was not followed by many. Hereford and Salisbury both had double transepts and multiple eastern chapels, which provided suitable options for bishops desiring burial near an altar through the thirteenth and fourteenth centuries (Fig. 27, nos. 5,6,7; Fig. 26, nos. 1,2,3,4,6). At Salisbury, the eastern Trinity Chapel also housed several episcopal tombs by the end of the thirteenth century (Fig. 27, nos. 1,2,3,8,9,10). A brief glance at the situation at Canterbury Cathedral shows that episcopal burial at side altars had long-standing archiepiscopal precedent. As described by Eadmer and Gervase, the many side chapels of the cathedral church of Canterbury were occupied by burials to various archbishops throughout the Anglo-Saxon period, and the tradition continued in the post-fire church through the burial of Thomas Bradwardine in the mid-fourteenth century.40 Around the turn of the fourteenth century, the high altar became the preeminent location for burial. The desire for such an intimate position is discernible at Ely as early as 1286, when Bishop Hugh of Balsham was placed before the high altar (Fig. 28, no. 9).

40 In the thirteenth century, Archbishop Langton (d.1228), who oversaw Becket's translation to the newly completed Trinity Chapel, was buried in St Michael's chapel in the southwest transept. Archbishop Pecham (d.1292; Cat. 1) was given a lavish mural tomb near St Benedict's altar, in the northwest crossing where the murder of Becket occurred. Archbishop Winchelsey (d.1313) had a tomb in the southeast transept near the altar of St Gregory (per the martyrology in Lambeth Ms Arundel 68, fol. 27). Archbishop Reynolds (d.1327) requested, but was not given, burial nearby, at the altar of St Mary and John the Evangelist. Simon Meopham (d.1333) occupied a highly unusual tomb between south aisle and the chapel of Saints Peter and Paul (later St Anselm). Thomas Bradwardine (d.1349) was placed in south wall of the same chapel.

130 With Bishop de Luda's death in 1298, Ely received its first tomb located near the altar under the presbytery arcade (Fig. 28, no. 11). In the early fourteenth century, three Ely bishops chose to be placed with Hugh of Balsham before the high altar (Fig. 28, nos. 12,13,14), and Bishops Hotham (d.1337; Fig. 28, no. 15) and Barnet (Fig. 28, no. 17) also chose positions in the presbytery, both of which were described in the Ely Chronicle in terms of their relation to the high altar. At Salisbury, the enclosure around the presbytery near the high altar was not perforated until c.1330—approximately eighty years after Bingham's tomb was installed under the arcade near the hoped-for shrine (Fig. 27, no. 4)—when bishops Ghent (d.1315) and Martival (d.1330) were buried on either side of the presbytery under the arcades (Fig. 27, nos. 11,12). Later in the thirteenth century, Bishop Wyville was buried in the floor of the presbytery in between these two tombs (Fig. 27, no. 13). Even the retrospective series of monuments at Hereford demonstrates the high altar's significance. The eight monuments on the exterior walls of the aisles (Fig. 26, nos. R1-4 and R6-9) were not close to altars—the chapter had other concerns besides commemoration in the devising of this scheme, and the long-dead bishops had no say in the matter—yet even in this grouping, the two bishops considered to have been great benefactors of the church were differentiated from the other eight by their placement in the middle bay of the presbytery, on either side of the space occupied by the high altar (Fig. 26, nos. R5, R10). Rather dramatic proof of the importance of placement at the high altar is found at Worcester, where Bishop Godfrey Giffard in c.1300 removed another bishop's tomb on the south side of the high altar in order to insert his in this apparently matchless spot.41 Canterbury was slightly slower to pick up the trend for burial near the 41 For the correspondence regarding Giffard's tomb, see R Graham, ed., Registrum Roberti Winchelsey

131 high altar, but once adopted, it was enthusiastically embraced. In rapid succession, archbishops' tombs from John Stratford (d.1348) to Thomas Bourchier (d.1481) filled the available spaces in the presbytery, until the only areas not occupied by tombs were those which housed the relics cupboard, the archbishop's throne, and the entrances from the aisles.42 Locations in side chapels and under the presbytery arcade allowed for the development of raised tombs, and in particular of tombs with architectural canopies. The designers of Bishop Bingham's monument were the first at Salisbury to take advantage of a position between piers of the arcade to devise a large-scale architectural feature (Fig. 27, no. 4; Cat. 19). Despite confusion over details, early drawings and plans demonstrate that the tomb built for Bingham was truly monumental in form, consisting of an effigy on a tomb chest, the whole arched over by a massive architectural canopy creating a thick screen from pier to pier. By at least the 1240s, then, the large canopied tomb had made its debut. It is not known whether the tomb for his successor William of York (d.1256; Cat. 66), of which nothing survives, also comprised an effigy under a canopy, but documentary evidence suggests that the tomb was gilded and therefore highly visible (Fig. 27, no. 5?). The heavily canopied double-bay tomb of Bishop Giles de Bridport (Oxford, 1937), 761-2; J Wilson, The Worcester Liber Albus: Glimpses of life in a great Benedictine monastery in the fourteenth century (London, 1920), 21-3 for English translation. 42 Wilson, “Medieval Monuments,” plan, 455. The first archiepiscopal tomb to pierce the presbytery enclosure belonged to John Stratford (d.1348). It rather conservatively maintained a certain distance from the high altar, but with Simon Sudbury's (d.1381) burial directly south of the high altar, Henry Chichele's (d.1443) burial on the north side of the presbytery, John Kemp's (d.1454) tomb on south side of presbytery adjoining the Stratford tomb and opposite to Chichele, and Thomas Bourchier's (d.1481) burial on the north side of high altar, the preference for burial as close as possible to the high altar is clearly evident. The trend for burial near the high altar was also slow to develop in Rome, particularly among the popes. See on the location of papal tombs Sible de Blaauw, “Private Tomb and Public Altar: The Origins of the Mausoleum Choir in Rome,” Memory and Oblivion, Reinink and Stumpel, eds. (1999), 475-82 and G Johnson, “Activating the Effigy,” where she states that preference for the high altar is not prevalent in Italian churches until the last third of the Trecento.

132 (d.1262; Cat. 20) in the chapel of Mary Magdalene in the southeast transept (Fig. 27, no. 6) is the earliest architectural monument to survive in its thirteenth-century form at Salisbury. His successor, Walter de la Wyle (d.1272; Cat. 21) followed suit with a raised tomb chest and effigy, placed under a single pointed niche in the wall, as shown in eighteenth-century drawings (Fig. 27, no. 7). At Hereford, excellent thirteenth-century survivals of canopied tombs include those constructed for Bishops Aquablanca and Thomas Cantilupe in the northwest transept (Fig. 26, nos. 1,2; Cat. 10). Each of these tombs sits between a wall and a pier, and extends the full length of the opening, demarcating the spatial boundaries of the chapels. Locations near the high altar could also offer opportunities for highly visible monuments. The c.1298 monument to Bishop de Luda at Ely consisted of a tomb chest with large, triple-gabled architectural canopy stretching between two piers, under the presbytery arcade south of the high altar (Fig. 28, no. 11). The paired tombs of Martival and Ghent at Salisbury, like the tomb of de Luda, are large two-sided constructions, with raised tomb chests and broad, though largely openwork, canopies, forming effective yet highly decorative screens in the bays leading up to the high altar (Fig. 27, nos. 11,12). The two tombs illustrate a rare attempt to create visual parity and symmetry, and demonstrate an awareness of such aesthetic opportunities by those in control of the design. Both featured half-length effigial brass slabs on raised tomb chests, with ogee canopies over the top featuring ballflower and heavily floriated finials. At Canterbury, too, the presbytery is dominated by large-scale architectural monuments. Each of these tombs is visible from both sides, and one wonders if the choice of location was not in part motivated by the increased visibility provided by such a position.

133 Proximity to the altar was, despite the large number of prominent monuments, enough of a motivation that some bishops were willing to relinquish a highly visible tomb for one that had the capability of being placed within the inner enclosure at the very heart of the sacred space. The desire to be close to the high altar may have provided initial motivation for the use among bishops of a new form of monument: that of the flat brass slab, laid flush with the floor. Bishop Hugh of Balsham was the first bishop at Ely to choose a location within, rather than around, the presbytery (Fig. 28, no. 9). While the form of his tomb is not known, its placement makes it likely that he chose a flat slab. He was joined before the high altar by several of his successors in the early fourteenth century, who were buried under flat stones featuring brasses (Fig. 28, nos. 12,13,14). At Salisbury, the advantages presented by flat funerary brasses had already been noted by several late thirteenth-century bishops who used the form to attain burial within the Lady Chapel, an intimate and already crowded space, without adding to the existing furnishings or disrupting the activity in the chapel (Fig. 27, nos. 8,9,10). While all altars contained relics, and therefore may have held attraction for burial nearby due to the salvific power exuded by the relics, a separate avenue to salvation likely stimulated the concern for relating a tomb to an altar: the intercession the local community could offer for the deceased through Masses said on his behalf. Although no authoritative Church statement has been found to espouse a preference of Masses over the power of relics, the efficacy of Masses said for the dead had been accepted among the clergy for centuries. Chapter 4 discusses the role of commemorative prayer more in depth, but as the phenomenon so dramatically affected church interiors in the later medieval period, it merits brief mention here. In the thirteenth century, bishops began to

134 endow chantries, to make provisions for one or more priests to say masses for the soul of the deceased. This altar-focused concern for the soul parallels the trend noted above for burial near an altar. Evidence from indulgences offered in the thirteenth century to encourage people to pray at the tomb of certain bishops also helps explain the increased visibility of tombs. The tomb, through its placement and form, played a direct role in attracting prayers, whether from priests or from passersby. The physical evidence suggests that visibility, a location to which visitors had access, and proximity to an altar—if possible the high altar, apparently thought to provide more advantage to the soul than lesser altars—all seem to have been of great concern to the bishop.

Bishops' choice and chapter involvement The decision-making process behind episcopal burials is not exactly known, but a scene recorded at the deathbed of William St Carileph (d.1096), bishop of Durham, is an early account which suggests that not only was it accepted procedure for a bishop to choose his own burial place, but also that such a choice was an expected privilege of office.43 The several bishops who attended Bishop William as he neared death pressed William to name his desired burial place within the cathedral church at Durham. William, however, explained to them that at Durham, a long-held tradition required all bishops to be buried in the chapter house. The fact that Durham's custom of restricting episcopal burials to the chapter house required explanation shows the situation at Durham to be unusual. More typical, perhaps, were the instructions given by Bishop Hugh of Lincoln

43 Simeon, A History of the Church at Durham, trans. J Stevenson (1993 facsimile of 1855 edition), chapter LXIX, 710. Simeon ended his account shortly after recording this episode.

135 (d.1200) on his deathbed to his confessor Adam of Eynsham. In the Magna Vita Sancti Hugonis, Adam recorded Hugh's request that he be “buried near the altar of St John the Baptist in the church of the holy Mother of God” and placed “before the altar of the patron saint I have so often mentioned, the precursor of our Lord....”44 This scenario suggests that the process was initiated by the bishop’s selection of a location; however, the fact that he also recommended that he be placed close to the wall so as not to impede services indicates that a precise spot for him within the chapel had not yet been marked. This decision, it appears, was to be made later by the bishop's executors and/or the chapter. Evidence from episcopal wills and from burial licenses issued by the chapter also leads one to conclude a certain level of agency and authority on the part of the bishop. Two wills for Bishop Aquablanca of Hereford (d.1268) survive.45 In the first, he asked for burial near the high altar, in a precise spot near the lectern and paschal candle, in the collegiate church he had founded in Savoy. His second will requested that his entrails be buried at Hereford cathedral, although his desired site within Hereford was not specified in the document.46 From Canterbury, the earliest wills to survive are from the fourteenth

44 Magna Vita Sancti Hugonis, The Life of St Hugh of Lincoln, D Douie and H Farmer, eds. (London, 1961), 191 and 192. See also p. 189, where Hugh had exhorted the master mason to finish the chapel of John the Baptist and consecrate the altar before the council was to meet there: “Make haste therefore to finish whatever is needed for the beauty and adornment of the altar of my lord and patron St John the Baptist....” Also p. 190, Adam says Hugh “told us repeatedly what his wishes were about his funeral and burial.” On Hugh's tomb and shrines, see most recently DA Stocker, “The Mystery of the Shrines of St Hugh,” St Hugh of Lincoln, H Mayr-Harting, ed. (Oxford, 1987), 89-124; J Alexander, “The Angel Choir of Lincoln Cathedral and the Shrines of St Hugh,” JBAA 148 (1995), 137-47. 45 On Aquablanca's wills and arrangements for burial, see most recently J Gardner, “The Tomb of Bishop Peter of Aquablanca in Hereford Cathedral,” Medieval Art, Architecture, and Archaeology at Hereford, BAACT, ed. Whitehead (London, 1995), 105-110, and bibliography therein. The bishop took great care to have burial planned in two countries. 46 Not all wills specify an exact location. It is possible that verbal arrangements had already been made.

136 century, and these usually noted a specific choice of burial location.47 Archbishop Reynolds asked to be buried near his predecessor and defined a precise location in relation to Archbishop Winchelsey's tomb and the nearby altars.48 The will of Archbishop Stratford (d.1348) gives detailed instructions regarding a location near the entrance to the choir.49 By the fourteenth and fifteenth centuries, the process had become formalized to the point where, for example at Durham and Canterbury, the chapter issued documents confirming bishops’ requests.50 Choices of verbs in these licenses, such as “elegerit” and “ordinavit,” perpetuate the idea that the burial place was to be of the bishop's own choosing or arranging. The wide variety of locations exhibited by the tombs themselves also testify to 47 A charter discussing Theobald’s late twelfth-century will survives, though not the will itself. See CE Woodruff, Sede Vacante Wills (Kent Archaeological Society, 1914) and Saltman, Theobald, Archbishop of Canterbury (1956), 254-7. It does not include a burial location. 48 Reynolds's will is in the Canterbury Cathedral Archives, Ch Ant A/14, dated 1327, transcribed in Woodruff, 67-72, and also in JR Wright, “The testament or last will of archbishop Walter Reynolds of Canterbury,” Medieval Studies 47 (1985), 445-73. Reynolds showed his regard for the character of his predecessor by giving instructions for his burial near Winchelsey's tomb: “Ante altaria beate Marie virginis et sci. Johis Evangeliste iuxta tumulum celebris memorie quondam R predecessoris mei seorsum in plana terra ad ipsius pedes vel ad capud, seu alias ante ipsum tumulum.” He was not, however, buried there, as his tomb is in the south choir aisle; for which, see Wilson, “Medieval Monuments,” appendix II, 253. Winchelsey's own will survives (Canterbury Ch Ant 218), dated 1313, and is printed in Graham, ed., Registrum Roberti Winchesley, 1340-45. The will however is damaged and nothing survives of his request for burial location. However, Lambeth MS 20, fol. 186 and BL Ms Arundel 68, fol. 27, say he was buried near altar of St Gregory, which corresponds with the note in his will regarding prayers for his soul at the conventual church of St Gregory. 49 The wording is however partly damaged. Canterbury Ch Ant W/219, dated 1348, printed in Woodruff, 72-6. Woodruff stated in his introduction, “Stratford appears to have been desirous that his tomb should be placed immediately to the west of the door on the south side of the choir [note: owing to the parchment being in a decayed state two or three words are lost, but the above seems to be what the Archbishop intended].” 50 At Durham, a license survives for Bishop Beaumont (d.1333), dated 1320 (i.e. only two years after he became bishop), printed in J Raine, ed., Historiae Dunelmensis, Scriptores Tres, Gaufridus de Coldingham, Robertus de Graystanes, et Willielmus de Chambre (London: Surtees Society, 1839), xxxii. A license was also given for Bishop Bury, mentioned but not printed in ibid., xxxii. Bishop Hatfield (d. 1381) obtained a license dated 1362: ibid., appendix CXIX, and see CXXVIII for a letter begging their prayers on his behalf. For Bishop Skirlaw's license dated 1404, see ibid., appendix CLXVII. At Canterbury, a license was made for Archbishop Chichele (d.1443) in 1432, printed in Sheppard, Literae Cantuariensis, Rolls Series, vol. 85, pt. III (London, 1889), 159-60. The license for Archbishop Bourchier in 1480 is printed in Sheppard, pt. III, 301-2.

137 particular preferences unique to each bishop, and suggest that the chapter generally allowed such personal choices to be granted. Bishop de la Wyle’s burial at the altar of St Edmund in Salisbury Cathedral can be interpreted as an example of individual preference being accommodated, as he also founded a school dedicated to St Edmund (Cat. 21). Bishop Bronescombe's tomb in the chapel of St Gabriel in Exeter, seen alongside his endowment in 1278 of a special celebration on St Gabriel's feast day, also suggests devotion to a particular saint (Cat. 9). An increased number of burials near altars where the Office of the Virgin was sung in the later Middle Ages suggests a trend toward increased personal devotion to the Virgin. This is perhaps most clearly expressed by the burial choices made by Bishop Audley at both Hereford and Salisbury cathedrals, as noted above. Bishops did not always receive the treatment they requested, however, and the increase in written documentation regarding burial reveals two important points: that there was an uncertainty about the process of arranging for burial, and that the chapter had oversight of the process. The number of instances in which preparations made in advance of a bishop's death were not followed reveal the very real fact that while a bishop could exert influence, he did not have absolute control over his body’s fate. At Canterbury Cathedral, Archbishop Reynolds’s request that he be buried near his predecessor was ignored.51 Archbishop Theobald (d.1161) was buried in the eastern end of Canterbury rather than at his desired place at the altar to St Mary, though he was later

51 Wilson, “Medieval Monuments,” 465. It is unclear why his request was not complied with. Wilson suggested the convent wished to keep Winchelsey’s tomb clear for visitors responding to reports of miracles, but he also noted that Reynolds had requested burial “in plana terra,” i.e. probably under a flat brass, which would not have caused any obstruction.

138 moved to the location he had originally requested.52 Also at Canterbury, Archbishop Courtenay’s burial wishes were overruled.53 At the cathedral of Worcester, Bishop John de Constantiis had been buried south of the high altar, but by 1301, Bishop Giffard had moved Bishop John’s tomb to another location and usurped his space. In turn, and not without ironic twist, Bishop Giffard's own tomb was removed after his death (Cat. 35).54 Despite the specific directions to divide Bishop Aquablanca's body between Hereford and Savoy, Aquablanca was buried entirely at Hereford (Cat. 10).55 Whether these shifts of fortune occurred as a result of the chapter’s sway or for other reasons particular to the bishop’s individual circumstances, it is clear that a certain amount of anxiety accompanied the process of selecting a burial place and of assuring its existence in perpetuity. The increase in written documentation made by both bishop and chapter to ensure the construction and survival of the monuments demonstrates this preoccupation clearly. The fourteenth- and fifteenth-century licenses issued by the chapters of Durham and Canterbury, some of which were dated quite early in the bishop's episcopate, specify the exact location for the burial, in effect reserving that space for the bishop's monument to be constructed whenever it became necessary.56 The grants also could include promises that the body and the monument built over it would not be disturbed at any point in the future. A document dated to 1432 from the chapter to

52 Gervase specifically tells us that Theobald's body was encased in lead and moved to the altar of St Mary in the nave, where he had originally requested to be buried: R Willis, 57. The new burial place is confirmed later in the 1313 “Polistorie,” BL Ms Harley 636, fol. 118v. 53 Wilson, “Medieval Monuments,” 472-3. 54 Graham, ed., Registrum Roberti Winchelsey, 761-2; J Wilson, 21-3. 55 J Gardner, “The Tomb of Bishop Peter of Aquablanca,” 107-110, examined this issue. The tomb was opened in 1925. 56 Wilson, “Medieval Monuments,” 476, believed that Chichele's monument may have been completed as early as 1426, though his license is dated to 1432 and he did not die until 1443.

139 Archbishop Chichele permitted Chichele to build a sumptuous monument in a particular place on the north side of the choir. In addition, it included a lengthy promise made by the chapter for the monument never to be disturbed, by them or by their successors.57 In 1507 the chapter at Canterbury also made a written promise to protect Archbishop Warham's tomb and its ornaments in perpetuity.58 The very fact that it became accepted procedure for a bishop to obtain a written license issued by the chapter in order to secure burial in his place of choice indicates that the authority to grant permission rested with the chapter. While the licenses allow the bishops to make some choices, verbs such as “concedemus” (we assent), “nostrum consensum ... impertimus” (we give, impart our consent) and “permittemus” (we permit) used in the licenses underscore the chapter's leading role in granting space for burial. If Bishop Hugh's case at Lincoln can be taken as typical in c.1200, then the chapter would have to grant approval and designate a specific acceptable site. Further documentary proof that the religious community held oversight and responsibility for episcopal tombs is provided by Archbishop Winchelsey's 1301 injunction to the Prior and Convent of Worcester cathedral to remove the supposedly inappropriate tomb of Bishop Giffard. The letter, which included the Archbishop's reasons for finding this tomb offensive, was directed to the Prior and Convent rather than the bishop himself, who, although ill, was still alive.59 Indeed, Winchelsey's overall criticism seems to be directed to the chapter's lack of control and oversight in this particular situation; the convent was expected to 57 Sheppard, pt. III, 159-60. 58 Ibid., 337ff. 59 Graham, ed., Registrum Roberti Winchelsey, 761-2; J Wilson, 21-3. The bishop had died and the burial in the tomb had already taken place by the time the prior responded. The prior replied that it would be best to move the tomb after the body had become dust. It is curious that the monks accepted Giffard's arrangement until they heard otherwise from the archbishop.

140 uphold a certain set of official (though unfortunately unwritten) standards regarding episcopal tombs. The controlling role played by the chapter is also discernible in the occasional clustering of episcopal burials. Retrospective treatment of remains is likely to have been decided on and executed by the respective chapters in consultation with the current bishop, rather than by a single bishop who wished to honor his predecessors.60 At Winchester, important Anglo-Saxon remains—both episcopal and lay—were placed in chests and set up around the high altar.61 At Ely, the episcopal burials on the north side of the church were complemented by the remains of the monastery's Anglo-Saxon benefactors.62 This area, near the pilgrim entrance in the north transept, seems to have become a highly visible commemorative space for these and other benefactors. At Lincoln, during the late twelfth-century reconstruction of the eastern end, it appears that previous episcopal burials were collected in the northeast transept, where in addition 60 Lindley, “Retrospective Effigies,” 115-19, on motivations for retrospective schemes in cathedrals. He, however, credited individual bishops for these schemes. At Hereford, for example, the “patron…can only be Bishop Swinfield himself.” This seems to be a typical assumption in scholarship. Bishop Jocelin is also given credit for his efforts to regain episcopal stature to Wells, including the retrospective series, and Bishop Henry of Blois is credited by scholars for the arrangement of AngloSaxon benefactors, but it is inconceivable that this was done without chapter involvement. Gervase's writings reveal just how important the prelates were to his community and its standing, and the communities at Hereford and Wells were surely also aware of this. 61 J Vaughan, Winchester Cathedral, its Monuments and Memorials (London, 1919), chapter 2. The remains were moved into the Norman crypt under Bishop Ethelwold's episcopate, then moved up to a more conspicuous position near the high altar during Henry of Blois' term as bishop. Vaughan noted that ancient benefactors of St Paul's Cathedral seem to have been displayed in a similar manner. 62 The Liber Eliensis indicated that the remains were moved into the “north side” of the new Norman church c.1154. In the fourteenth century, after the fall of the tower, they were immured in the new north wall of the choir, facing into the north aisle, and accompanied by paintings: Lindley, “The Monastic Cathedral at Ely, c.1320-1350: Art and Patronage in Medieval East Anglia,” PhD dissertation (University of Cambridge, 1985), 165-6. Maddison, “The Gothic Cathedral,” 123 and 127-8, added that there was an inscription on the north choir aisle, bay eight, which asked passersby for prayers for benefactors. Lindley, “The Tomb of Bishop William de Luda: An Architectural Model at Ely Cathedral,” Proceedings of the Cambridge Antiquarian Society 73 (1984), 76-7, citing Stevenson's addendum to Bentham's history, 23-24, said the fourteenth-century wall was taken down when the pulpitum was removed in the eighteenth century. The bones were moved to Bishop West's chapel.

141 there were painted images representing four bishops.63 The archiepiscopal tombs moved out of the eastern end at Canterbury and not returned there so that the area was kept free for the shrine also suggests a decision made by the religious community as a whole. The reburial at Salisbury of the early bishops from Old Sarum, and the retrospective tombs made for the early bishops at Hereford and Wells, also most likely fell under the purview of the chapter. Burial clusters formed over a period of time also indicate some level of chapter control over the geography of burial. At Lincoln, the majority of thirteenth-century bishops were buried together in the southeast transept, which, rather than demonstrating a desire for placement near the blessed remains of Bishop Grosseteste (d.1253) as suggested by Cole, may have been a result of the chapter limiting burial to a specific area.64 The clustering of ecclesiastical burials in the thirteenth-century transepts at York prompted Sarah Brown to suggest that this area became a “clerical mausoleum”; deans, treasurers, and archdeacons were buried alongside thirteenth- and early fourteenthcentury archbishops.65 Durham Cathedral offers the most dramatic example of a community's custom overriding individual preference. Until the early fourteenth century,

63 Medieval evidence for Lincoln is lacking, but the antiquarian evidence from c.1641 onwards is consistent in noting placement of pre-1200 bishops' tombs in the northeast transept: see An Historical Account of the Antiquities in the Cathedral Church of St Mary, Lincoln (1771), which relied on Dugdale's and Sanderson's visits to the cathedral in the 1640s. Hugh's burial may have been in this same location, although the site of the chapel of John the Baptist is disputed; J Alexander proposed an apsidal location for the chapel. 64 REG Cole, “Proceedings Relative to the Canonization of Robert Grossteste, Bishop of Lincoln,” Reports and Papers read at the Meetings of the Architectural Societies... during the year MDCCCCXV 33 (1915-6), 1-34. Grosseteste was not officially canonized but was recognized unofficially as a miracle-worker shortly after his death. 65 Brown, 'Our Magnificent Fabrick': York Minster, an Architectural History, c.1220-1500 (Swindon: RCHME, 2003), 37-43. De Gray's “personal prestige acted as a powerful magnet,” 38. She noted that there was no drive to be buried around the high altar at this time as it was strongly tied to Archbishop Roger and his legacy. She did not consider the role of the chapter.

142 when Bishop Bek (d.1311) became the first bishop to be buried in the cathedral, the convent at Durham had restricted its bishops to tombs with flat gravestones located in the chapter house, effectively countering the rapidly growing trend of prominent episcopal burials within cathedral churches.66

Chapter's concerns The bishop and the chapter had different interests in mind regarding episcopal tombs. For the community, an individual's tomb must not pose an obstacle to daily use. Bishop Hugh of Lincoln showed himself to be sensitive to this matter when he requested in 1200 that his executors put his remains “in any fitting place near a wall, in order that my tomb may not take up too much of the pavement and obstruct or injure those who pass by, as I have seen happen in a great many churches.”67 The Cistercian order had begun to regulate the use of raised tombs for practical reasons as early as 1191,68 but raised tombs had become common by 1200—Hugh clearly expected to receive one himself—and by 1250, only fifty years after Hugh's death, it had become acceptable for a tomb to be accompanied by a large architectural canopy capable of filling in the space in 66 Leland, vol. v, 127, confirmed that almost all the bishops who had presided since the community settled at Durham had been placed in the 1130s chapter house. That the custom was adhered to is all the more surprising given the wealth and public standing of the twelfth- and thirteenth-century bishops of Durham. Bek appears to have been an extremely powerful individual who for most of his episcopate was at odds with several monks in the convent. He emerged from the conflict, having been backed by papal authority, with much power over the monastery: CM Fraser, A History of Antony Bek, Bishop of Durham 1283-1311 (Oxford, 1957). The breaking of the tradition of burial in the chapter house at Durham appears to have been a direct result of Bek's power in relation to his convent. It is not known whether Bek was granted a license for burial, or if this measure was devised by the convent for use in future instances to help preserve its power over the process. 67 Magna Vita, 192. 68 L Butler, “Cistercian Abbots’ Tombs and Abbey Seals,” Studies in Cistercian Art and Architecture 4 (Kalamazoo, 1993), 78-88. Regulations date to 1191, reissued in 1194 and 1202: “let the stones in the cloisters placed over the dead be level with the ground…. And let them not hinder passersby.” The regulations also suited the Cistercian desire for simplicity.

143 between two piers of an arcade. These, notably, were always placed at the fringes of an open space; the small number of raised tombs in the center of the presbytery before an altar testifies that smooth operation of the cathedral trumped commemorative display.69 Giffard's tomb at Worcester met with censure for a variety of reasons, not least of which was the inconvenience it caused to the clergy. Though under the arcade, and not in an open space, its tall canopy blocked light to the high altar and the entire construction was placed where seats for the clergy should have been. The structure obstructed, in other words, the celebration of the Mass. For the same reasons, the chapter's supervision is also noticeable in the spaces that were kept clear. At Ely, around the space designated for the shrines, the northern presbytery arcades were kept clear of tombs—one in fact served as the entry into the feretory—and the two clear bays on the south side probably indicate the processional route around the eastern end. The removal of tombs from the eastern end at Canterbury has already been mentioned, and the refusal to place Archbishop Reynolds's tomb near that of Winchelsey, where miracles had been witnessed, also may indicate chapter control over a space that they may have wanted to keep clear. Despite potentially conflicting underlying motives for tomb design and placement, the surviving tombs and the surviving documentation demonstrate that form and placement resulted from a compromise between bishops' desires and chapter's needs. Tombs flush with the floor had minimal impact on the spatial arrangement of a church, but the canopied tombs were large enough that as fixtures they were surpassed in size 69 In only one instance among English cathedrals of the twelfth and thirteenth centuries, that of Bishop William de Blois at Winchester, is a (non-sainted) bishop's raised monument placed in the center of an oft-used liturgical space. Bishop Hotham at Ely was behind a screen, rather than in an openly trafficked area. The tomb of King John at Worcester is a royal exception to the rule. In parish churches, with tombs of lay founders, there appears to have been fewer restrictions in front of the altar, as, for example, the tombs standing before altars at St Mary's, Warwick.

144 only by the reredos and pulpitum. It is no accident that these great structures were so placed as to serve a practical purpose in the medieval church besides that of personal commemoration. Most monuments of the canopied type were constructed in between piers where screens were needed, so that tombs served a valuable function in separating one space from the next, either dividing one chapel from another or dividing the central liturgical space from the circulatory aisles on either side.70 Openwork tombs, such as the pair of tombs to Bishops Ghent and Martival at Salisbury near the high altar (Fig. 27, nos. 11,12), were often fitted with iron grilles which served not only to protect the tombs but also to preserve the traditional spatial divisions of the church by preventing any access to the choir and presbytery through unofficial entrances.71 The grilles also supported the need for security around shrines and altars, and provided useful protection for the valued relics and ornaments.72 Most episcopal tomb canopies are of openwork design, without a solid back, and this, too, is no accident.73 The open designs apparently were not intended to provide visibility; several tombs have chests much too high to allow for views into the presbytery from the aisle, and if there was a significant degree of height between the aisle and the central vessel, as at Canterbury and Westminster Abbey, the visitor in the aisle had no hope of seeing past the tomb chest.74 Enclosure and separation of hierarchical

70 One important exception is the tomb for Archbishop Walter de Gray at York (Cat. 36), which stands freely in the center of the chapel of St Michael. 71 Among others, the tombs of Ghent and Martival, e.g., at Salisbury, as well as de Luda at Ely. 72 P Draper, “Enclosures and Entrances in Medieval Cathedrals: Access and Security,” The Medieval English Cathedral: Papers in Honour of Pamela Tudor-Craig, ed. J Backhouse (Donington, 2003), 7688 and figs; Nilson, chapter three. 73 Unless they are set into a wall. A rare exception is the tomb for Aveline at Westminster Abbey, which, unlike similar tombs at Canterbury, has a solid back despite its position under the presbytery arcade. 74 The difference in floor height often resulted in a “double decker” tomb chest, as the tomb of Bourchier at Canterbury, and the royal tombs around the presbytery at Westminster.

145 spaces are characteristics much more typical of medieval churches than visibility.75 Instead, openwork canopies provide another, more practical and necessary advantage: natural light. The “handsome tomb” stipulated by the chapter of Canterbury for Archbishop Bourchier was only acceptable directly north of the altar provided that it not be so abundant that it impede light from the north windows to reach within.76 The monument, as built, with its wide and unusually tall aperture below the canopy, suggests that the designers took this condition seriously. The tomb also had another practical requirement to meet. The document stipulated that the construction also include room for a new cabinet to suitably house liturgical implements needed for the altar, a necessary feature in accordance with custom, to replace the existing one that would have to be removed to accommodate the tomb.77 While more detailed decisions such as material, style, and specific iconography were left up to the bishop or to his executors, these more general trends in form and location demonstrate the supervisory role of the chapter.78

75 Early examples of the use of enclosures include at Canterbury, where Eadmer (c.1064-c.1124) described the Saxon church as having a solid enclosure around the choir, so the monks were “shut out from the multitude”: R Willis, Architectural History, 11. Also at Canterbury, Gervase described the screen surrounding the choir prior to 1174 as a wall of marble slabs, dividing the choir from the aisles: ibid., 43. Nilson, chapter three, discussing the visibility or lack thereof of shrines, gave evidence that pulpitums shut the east end away from view. In 1180, there was a screen around St Frideswide's shrine to protect it from “the sight of the vulgar.” The screens around Lincoln's high altar are thirteenth century, probably date to the reconstruction of angel choir. In addition, early modern plans of many cathedrals show the church interiors clearly divided by screens into separate spaces. 76 Sheppard, pt. III, 301-2: “sepultura decenti artificio... construator, non adeo tamen superfluo ut notabiliter impediat lumen.” Wilson, “Medieval Monuments,” 482-3, suggested this must also have been the case for the earlier tomb of Simon Sudbury, which has a similarly wide open canopy, although his is much shorter than Bourchier's. 77 Ibid., “unum armarium novum ordinetur, in quo res altari pertinentes, juxta consuetudinem, idonee conservari possint.” 78 In some instances, a supervisory hand can be seen to affect the more detailed aspects of design, eg the matching pairs of tombs at Salisbury (Ghent and Martival) and at Exeter (Stafford and Bronescombe). A more extreme example of supervision occurs at Chichester Cathedral, where tombs until the fourteenth century were relatively inconspicuous compared to tombs at other cathedrals in the same period. It is likely that none before c.1330 had an effigy; those surviving from before this time either have coped lids or incised slabs, with minimal decoration indicating the rank of bishop (an incised or

146 Besides maintaining practical standards, there is also some evidence that the cathedral chapters were expected to keep the grandeur of an episcopal monument in check. Bourchier's license, in which the chapter halted this impulse (“non adeo tamen superfluo,” “not however so abundant”), is one such example. Additionally, an offended sense of decorum and established hierarchy pervades Archbishop Winchelsey's complaint regarding Giffard's tomb at Worcester. The monument had overshadowed and made awkward the use of the high altar; its canopy rose higher than the shrine of St Oswald; and the tomb of a revered predecessor had had to be moved in order to fulfill Giffard's burial wishes. The overriding concern on the part of the establishment, if we can take Winchelsey's comments as representative, was to avoid upsetting the established hierarchy of the church's internal arrangements. While Wilson stated that “a hierarchical principle inherent in all medieval concepts of order ensured that the choicest positions were reserved to archbishops and priors,” the archbishop's response to Giffard's tomb is driven by the need to return it to its rightful lesser position of importance in relation to the overall spatial and spiritual hierarchy in which the shrine and altar take prime place.79 A conspicuous tomb in a prime location, no matter how impressive the occupant, had to meet certain requirements of practicality and decorum. The retrospective campaigns at Wells and Hereford are perhaps the best indicators of the 'ideal' approach to episcopal burial from the community's point of view. Since in neither instance were the monuments simply re-creations of existing tombs that had been low relief crosier, for example, or mitre). On the Exeter pair, see B Cherry, “Flying Angels and Bishops' Tombs, a Fifteenth-Century Conundrum,” Medieval Art and Architecture at Exeter Cathedral, BAACT, ed. F Kelly (1991), 199-204 and plates, and on Chichester, H Tummers, “The Medieval Effigial Tombs in Chichester Cathedral,” Church Monuments 3 (1988), 3-41. 79 Wilson, “Medieval Monuments,” 453. He references a fourteenth-century German treatise purporting to establish the correct placing of tombs relative to rank.

147 damaged or disturbed in remodeling,80 in this newly created set of tombs one can interpret the preferred way to commemorate a bishop. The arrangement was decided upon by the community (probably involving chapter and bishop together) and was not affected by any personal requirements or preferences of the deceased. The result in both instances was a tidy symmetrical grouping of effigial tombs encircling the high altar but maintaining a respectful distance from it.81 Each bishop was allowed to occupy a certain amount of space, large enough for a tomb chest and effigy. The internal hierarchy, in which the high altar retained the highest significance, was maintained. At Hereford this hierarchy was further indicated in the differentiation between the tombs on the outer walls and the two tombs intended for the more honored bishops, which were expressed as such by their closer relationship to the altar.82 In this arrangement, with the tombs embracing the choir and presbytery, the liturgical focus of the church remained respected and central.

Exceptions to the chapter-dictated situation: the bishop's contribution to the fabric As an alternative to obtaining written promises from the chapter, a common strategy for the bishop to attain a certain amount of control over his burial place appears to have been to contribute to building works in the cathedral. An episcopal burial, to the

80 No evidence, physical or documentary, survives of the original tombs of these early bishops at Hereford, but some of the bishops represented were buried long before the advent of funerary effigies and so the scheme cannot be a simple replacement of existing tombs. The same is true for many of the early bishops at Wells. 81 The Wells effigies stood along the north and south sides of the choir on a low wall: see Cats. 23-29. 82 The southern one, under a ballflower arch, is most likely in its original location. The northern one, now resting alone on a plinth, most likely originally occupied a similar canopy opposite to the southern one. Their effigies are also differentiated from the others by the fact that they hold small models of buildings, expressing visually their contribution to built fabric.

148 chapter, was in part a commodity, to be granted in return for other services or goods. The license made out for Archbishop Chichele by the convent at Canterbury specifically states that his burial within the church was offered in return for Chichele’s contributions of objects of great value to the cathedral church and the library.83 In a more proactive effort to ensure adequate special treatment of his remains, a bishop could influence the placement and style of his burial place if he contributed to the fabric of the building itself. Contributions could be made in a number of ways, for example donating from personal funds; using political connections to obtain masons, as perhaps happened at Hereford; issuing an indulgence, as occurred often, to encourage donations from the public to the buildings works; or sending out general pleas for contributions. Usually it is not known exactly how a bishop contributed to a building, but enough evidence survives to suggest that if a bishop had helped advance construction in a significant way, the chapter might honor him with burial within or near the work to which he had contributed. That contribution to a building engendered a certain degree of 'ownership' of the fabric is illustrated in the example of Aquablanca at Hereford. In the church in Savoy that was completely of his own foundation, Aquablanca could request burial near the high altar. At Hereford, a church which belonged to a cathedral community and was governed by the community's statutes, burial at the high altar was more difficult to achieve. Instead, Aquablanca’s tomb (Fig. 26, no. 1; Cat. 10) occupies an impressive canopied structure in a strategic location at the entrance to the northwest transept, the portion of the church for which he is credited as having rebuilt.84 The possibility also exists that the placement of

83 Sheppard, pt. III, 159-60. 84 Hereford suffers from lack of contemporary documentation regarding its fabric. On the north transept,

149 Swinfield's tomb at Hereford (Fig. 26, no. 3) was connected to the remodeling scheme for the choir aisles and northeast transept, to which he may have contributed.85 Bishop Lewis Charlton (d.1369) is buried in the southeast transept (Fig. 26, no. 6), thought to have been remodeled under his episcopate.86 Bishop Trillek's (d.1361) entombment within the presbytery enclosure (Fig. 26, no. 5) is thought in part to relate to the mid fourteenthcentury choir furnishings and decorations at Hereford which may have been donated by the bishop.87 Even in the case of the retrospective monuments at Hereford, the pair of bishops who were thought by the community to have contributed to the fabric of the building were differentiated from the others by their location, closer to the liturgical heart see Marshall, Hereford Cathedral, 71-3 and Morris, “Architectural History,” 214-18. Building was clearly underway during Aquablanca's episcopate, as a document of 1246 survives enforcing payments from the canons to help with the fabric expenses in the north transept. An indulgence in Worcester Cathedral's records dated 1 March 1257 was issued for those making donations to “sumptuous works replacing old fabric at Hereford Cathedral.” Aquablanca's will provided 20 marks for 'works' at the cathedral (although cf. a dissenting view in Morris, “Architectural History,” 214). According to Marshall, Hereford Cathedral, 72, in 1256 the bishop gave land to the Dean and Chapter, some portion of which was to support the fabric of the church. The style of the eastern wall of the transept supports some involvement by the bishop, as it incorporates features constructed at Westminster Abbey just before and during Aquablanca's episcopate. The bishop had several family connections at the king's court and his having some degree of influence on the design is the best way to explain the existence of these features. He may have been responsible for bringing some of the Westminster workforce to Hereford. Marshall, 81, may have it right when he suggested that “One wonders whether Bishop Aquablanca was responsible for the aisle part, and the Dean and Chapter for the rest,” as the north and west walls do not have the same Westminster-derived details. 85 Morris, “Remodelling”; idem, “Architectural History,” 218-9. There is no documentation for Swinfield's direct involvement in the project, although as noted in n. 60, Swinfield is usually given full credit by scholars. I would suggest instead that while he probably was involved in financing the northeast chapel, since he was buried there (although Marshall suggested the tomb was added after the wall's construction), the rest of the remodeling project could have been supported from a common fund. Separation of funds was seen at York in the thirteenth century, and at Ely during its fourteenth-century building projects, and may also have occurred in the building of the northwest transept at Hereford. Swinfield's executors did set aside funding from his estate for fabric and windows in a new chapter house: Morris, “Architectural History,” 227. 86 His involvement in the chapel is, however, unproven. An Inventory of the Historical Monuments in Herefordshire, vol. I (RCHME, 1931), 91, credits him, but with a caveat that this supposition is based mostly on the presence of his tomb in the chapel. See also Marshall, Hereford Cathedral, 123-4. 87 Morris, “Architectural History,” 224, e.g. the mid-fourteenth century statue of Ethelbert, the wooden stalls in the raised loft in south choir aisle, the bishop's throne and choir stalls, all still surviving, and the pulpitum screen which survived till 1841. Morris, with less evidence, also suggested that Trillek “perhaps encouraged a renewed interest in St Ethelbert” as a “knock-on effect” of the success of Cantilupe's cult.

150 of the choir, and by their effigies, which, unlike the others, hold miniature models of buildings. The same principal, of bishops being buried in or near their own contributions to the building works, can also be seen at other churches. At Ely, while Hugh’s proximity to the shrine may be questioned, his prominent position in relation to the part of the church which he helped finance is clear (Fig. 28, no. 7). Bishop Hotham (d.1337), to whom contemporary sources give credit for the reconstruction of the Norman bays of the Ely presbytery after the crossing tower fell in 1322, was buried at the center of this part of the church (Fig. 28, no. 15).88 Other Ely bishops buried near or in their own work include Bishop Barnet (d.1373), whose tomb in addition to being south of the altar was lit by the three remodeled windows in the south aisle for which medieval sources credit him with paying (Fig. 28, no. 17); Bishop Montacute (d.1344), who was buried in the fourteenthcentury Lady Chapel to which he had contributed, as specifically stated by the monastic author of the Chronicon (Fig. 28, no. 16); and Bishop Gray (d.1478), who was buried near the windows he refashioned in the north aisle, where his arms are on display in the glass (Fig. 28, no. 18).89 Matthew Paris, a contemporary of Bishop Bingham, attributed

88 Lindley, “The Monastic Cathedral at Ely,” 74-5 and 91-6, discussed Hotham as a patron. The Chronicon gives credit to the bishop and notes the total cost. The bishop's personal accounts are lost, but the sacrist's rolls note payments for the sharpening of tools used by the bishop's masons, implying a separately funded work force from the sacrist's craftsmen who were working on the Octagon. See also Maddison, “The Gothic Cathedral,” 132. 89 Maddison, “The Gothic Cathedral,” 137-8, for Barnet. The sacrist's roll notes that certain windows in the Lady Chapel, next to high altar (i.e. the former lady chapel in south presbytery aisle), were paid for by Barnet's estate. The three aisle windows, bays 4, 5, 6, which light his burial place are identical to two in the north aisle (bays 5 and 6). This corresponds to the very specific and probably correct Chronicon (BL Ms Harl 3721) account that he did three windows in the presbytery in south part and two in the north. Lindley, “The Monastic Cathedral at Ely,” 107-8, cited the Chronicon as evidence for Montacute's generosity towards the building of the Lady Chapel, although he could not find a specific amount. He was buried “in Nova Capella Sancti Marie coram altari... circa cujus fabricam sumptuousus fecit expensam ut superius expressum est”: Wharton, vol. I, 652. Maddison, “The Gothic Cathedral,”

151 the furnishing and decoration of the presbytery and choir at Salisbury to the bishop, and this, as much as the hoped-for presence of the shrine, may explain the location of his tomb under the presbytery arcade (Fig. 27, no. 4).90 Another well-known example is Archbishop de Gray's (d.1255) tomb at York, prominently placed in the central chapel of the south transept which was rebuilt during his episcopate.91 Bishop Hugh of Lincoln's (d.1200) request made for burial in the chapel of John the Baptist may have been made with reasonable confidence of the chapter's approval, since, as Adam's account makes clear, Hugh had concern for, attachment to, and involvement in the chapel's construction.92 These cases, and there are many more, suggest a mutual system of agreement between chapter and bishop, that in return for contributing to the building process, whether financially or by other means, the bishop would be granted honorary burial within the new works. To the chapter's advantage was the construction or decoration of new fabric, while the bishop benefited by achieving for himself an appropriate burial spot, located amongst the works to which he contributed. It may even be possible to go so far as to suggest that such projects were initiated by bishops with burial uppermost in mind, that burial within the new work was not merely a happy result of contribution, but one motivating factor for it. Sarah Brown 138, mentioned the arms in the windows for Gray. 90 See Blum, 11-15, for a summary of what Bingham may have accomplished under his episcopate. 91 Documentation is discussed in E Gee, “Architectural History until 1290,” A History of York Minster, GE Aylmer and R Cant, eds. (Oxford, 1977), 127-36, and Brown, 'Our Magnificent Fabrick', 11-16. Building was underway during de Gray's episcopate (1216-55). Because de Gray was able to set up a chantry at the altar of St Michael in 1241, Gee believed that it must have been essentially complete by that date. For the new fabric in the years 1225-7 indulgences were issued, alms requested, and first fruits requested from officials in the diocese. Besides these requests, Gray's personal contribution seems to be in paying for craftsmen: he granted land to the person most likely to be the master carpenter, who was noted as being in the archbishop's service: Gee, 131-2. Like at Ely, there were two projects going on at once. The north transept, however, was erected, per the Chronicle of Meaux, at the personal expense of John le Romeyn, subdean by 1228: Gee, 133. 92 Magna Vita, 189.

152 suggests this as one motivation for Archbishop Walter de Gray's construction of the southwest transept at York Minster.93 The fact that the central chapel in the south transept at York is wider than the others has led some to put forth the idea that Archbishop de Gray's tomb was planned in that space from the earliest stages of construction, that the anticipated presence of such a prominent monument influenced the very dimensions of that part of the church.94 The tomb also demonstrates a similar use of architectural features, such as thin Purbeck and freestone shafts, trefoiled, heavily molded arches, and luxurious foliate capitals as are found in the transept chapel in which the tomb stands.95 A few other tombs demonstrate design features in common with the church fabric, suggesting that the tomb was conceived of as part of the building's construction. Aquablanca's tomb, for example, features the same sharply pointed gables, thin colonnettes and moldings, and deeply profiled medallions circumscribing carved quatrefoils as the chapel windows of the Hereford transept in which it is housed.96 At Ely, the remnants of Etheldreda's shrine and the architectural details throughout Bishop Hugh 93 Brown, 'Our Magnificent Fabrick', 38: “By initiating a new building the Archbishop and members of his Chapter could secure prominent locations in one of the most accessible areas of the Minster....” 94 Ibid., 37, as if the eastern arm was designed around the tomb. The documentary evidence regarding his chantry, which was being considered as early as 1230 and established by 1241 in the central chapel, supports the suggestion that the building project was intended from a very early date to house his tomb. Matthew Sillence, “The Two Effigies of Archbishop Walter de Gray (d.1255) at York Minster,” Church Monuments xx (2005), 5, noted that the chapel was reserved for the tomb early in the transept's construction, but posited that the tomb originally intended was not so visually prominent. He did not mention the discrepancy in chapel size. 95 The freestone is local limestone, and Brown, 'Our Magnificent Fabrick', 41, suggested it was created under the supervision of the master mason. Sillence proposed a slightly later date than did Brown; although he believed that the superstructure was added retrospectively and was not part of de Gray's plans, this does not preclude the idea that the master mason was responsible for overseeing the design and construction, nor that it was intended to relate to the building. 96 P Pepin, “The Monumental Tombs of Medieval England, 1250-1350,” PhD dissertation, University of Pittsburgh, 1977, 120-1, stated that the splayed upper part of the walls supporting the arch under which the tomb sits was designed to accommodate the tomb canopy, and could only have been made during, not after, construction of the transept. However, the canopy does not need the extra space at the sides, particularly as the rest of the tomb sits snugly against the walls, and it is possible that the unusual shape of the supports is due to the transition from the Norman building to the thirteenth-century addition.

153 of Northwold's thirteenth-century eastern end are of Purbeck marble, carved in a similarly exuberant manner as the bishop's effigy. As Marion Roberts stated, “the memorial exhibits on a small scale the same lavish ornamentation as the interior.... Northwold's memorial was an integral part of the new building.”97 Bishop Hotham's tomb at Ely also features design elements, such as the delicate multi-lobed cusping and crockets, thin shafts, and shallow ogee arches, that can be found in the upper levels of the bays constructed under his episcopate. The tombs in these four instances fit the architecture, as if the object and shell were conceived of and possibly constructed together, perhaps making use of the same accomplished masons. While proving intent behind design is difficult, at the very least it seems clear that the forms of these tombs were deliberately intended to create visually a relationship between prelate and architecture. As Paul Binski has discussed recently, one trait expected of a bishop was his generosity, his largesse towards the religious community. 98 A tomb designed to relate to the part of the building to which he contributed is a clever tangible and visual demonstration of the occupant's possession of this quality. The idea that the donations and the resulting visual relationship might serve as more than demonstrations of wealth, position, and character has also been put forth. Sally Badham and Clive Burgess have both pointed out that such donations, like giving to the poor, “were considered particularly meritorious,” and were thought to perhaps provide great benefit to the soul.99

97 Roberts, “Effigy of Bishop Hugh,” 80. 98 Binski, Becket's Crown, esp. chapter 2; see also 125-7. 99 Quote from Badham, “Status and Salvation,” 430-3; see also Burgess, “Service,” 189-90.

154 The chapter and episcopal burial Despite complicated interpersonal relationships between bishop and chapter, and despite the possibility of physical inconvenience—for surely the daily cycle of prayers and masses were seriously compromised, at least temporarily, by the construction of large structures necessitating a number of craftsmen and some time to finish—the religious communities generally not only allowed episcopal burials, but actively sought and protected the right to bury their bishops. Gervase's tract written after the fire of 1174 describing the church at Canterbury makes clear the importance that each burial held to the community.100 In the text, a 'tour' of the building both before and after the fire, archiepiscopal burials feature prominently in his description of the physical layout of the building. The act of committing this information to the written record indicates a jealous protection of rights and privileges gained through the housing of these archiepiscopal bodies; it was through the legacy of these figures that the church hoped to maintain its status as the seat of the primate of all England in the face of a threat to move the seat.101 In later decades the monks continued actively to try to secure the burials of their archbishops. Christopher Wilson believes it likely that the location of Archbishop Pecham's burial at Canterbury near the place of Becket's martyrdom—a sacred spot into which no other burials had up to that point been allowed—was a concession offered to the archbishop by the Prior and convent in an attempt to ensure his burial at Canterbury rather than allow him to will his body to the Franciscans as he had originally intended.102

100

R Willis, Architectural History, chapter 3. C Cragoe, “Reading and Rereading Gervase of Canterbury,” JBAA 154 (2001), 40-53 on the historical timing of this document, i.e. when the monastery was threatened with losing its archiepiscopal status. 102 Wilson, “Medieval Monuments,” 459. 101

155 The importance of affiliation between a religious community and its leaders is well illustrated in the example of Salisbury. At the former cathedral at Old Sarum, the burials of the late eleventh- and twelfth-century bishops occupied a prominent location in the expanded east end under the arcades of the presbytery.103 More revealing, however, is that the respect accorded to them at the old church was maintained at the new. One of the first acts undertaken for the new cathedral church at Salisbury was to disinter from Old Sarum the remains of the three early bishops who had established the cathedral community, and to move and rebury them at the new site. This occurred not when the church was ready for furnishing, but in 1226, as soon as the eastern chapels had been consecrated.104 Of these monuments, two featured carved effigies of bishops, one elaborately sculpted in low relief and the other more prominently three-dimensional (Cats. 17, 18).105 These may have rested on raised chests or on coffins sunk below the pavement, but at the very least, the effigies on the slabs would have stood higher than floor level and would therefore have formed a distinctive feature in the chapel. The third relocated burial was marked by a raised rectangular chest pierced with oval openings and flanked by short columns; the form, associated with sanctified remains, must have graced the burial of Bishop Osmund, who was the subject of a bid for canonization in 1228.106

103

R Gem, “The First Romanesque Cathedral at Old Salisbury,” Medieval Architecture and its Intellectual Context: Studies in Honour of Peter Kidson, E Fernie and P Crossley, eds. (London, 1990), plan on p. 11, relying on archaeological excavations from 1912-24. Tim Tatton-Brown, “The Burial Places of St Osmund,” 20, suggested that the body of Osmund was moved in the late twelfth century to the eastern chapel. 104 The move took place in 1226, 18th Kal July. The consecration had taken place in October, 1225. William de Waude's contemporary narrative describing the early years of the new church states clearly that the bodies and monuments of three bishops, Osmund (d.1099), Roger (d.1139), and Joceline (d.1184), were re-interred with reverence at the new site. 105 Attributing a particular monument to a specific bishop has inspired lively debate. The arguments for and against attribution are lengthy and are summarized in the relevant catalogue entries. 106 See Malden, The Canonization of St Osmund, from the Manuscript Records in the Muniment Room of

156 Together with the tomb to Sir William Longespee (d.1225; Fig. 7), the first new burial in the church and itself a high relief effigy on a raised wooden base, these monuments would have formed a significant part of the chapel's furnishings, and in the intimate space of the chapel would have made a strong visual impact.107 Without a doubt the desire to maintain a close physical link to Salisbury's early diocesan leaders had a political benefit: through their continued presence, the longevity and authority necessary for a diocesan seat could transfer from the old cathedral to the new site. That the founder-bishops needed to be present early in the building process, before the cathedral was even large enough to hold its community of canons, demonstrates their importance to establishing communal identity in a fresh location. The decision to bring the existing monuments, rather than taking the opportunity to recast the monuments in a more modern manner suitable to the new setting, is immensely meaningful. The example set by the canons at Salisbury reveals the extent to which the tangible object of the funerary monument was thought to convey a person's authority and presence. The fact that the monuments were instrumental in this transition to a new site promotes the idea that they very much signaled the presence of the bishop, who was present in terms of physical remains, but also in a more spiritual sense, as if overlooking his flock. The identities of the community's early leaders, and thus of the community as a whole, were profoundly linked to the visual evidence of the leaders' existence. The same association between object, person, authority, and presence underlies

107

Salisbury Cathedral (Salisbury, 1901). The bid failed and canonization did not occur until 1457. Longespee was buried before the bishops' bodies were brought over, recorded by William de Waude under the year 1225. The tomb of Longespee was on the plinth between the northern chapel and the Trinity Chapel; though an important local figure, he was a layperson and his relegation to the side of the chapel may reflect this status.

157 the thinking behind the creation of retrospective monuments at Hereford and Wells. Each church felt a need to render their predecessor bishops more visible, more tangible, and more present. The retrospective effigies of Anglo-Saxon bishops carved at Wells cathedral in the early thirteenth century are thought to have stemmed from largely political motives. The effigies, carved in two sets and carefully labeled, are understood alongside the rebuilding of the church and the composition of the Historiola, as one aspect of a broader initiative to secure the diocesan seat for Wells after its move to Bath Abbey.108 While it is unknown what form the original burials took before this new campaign, it is certain that the original burials were of too ancient a date to have featured effigies. But authority had come to be best expressed by a visual representation of the body, and so these fabricated effigies of the early bishops who had led the see from Wells, alongside the church's new architecture and written history, helped to legitimize Wells's attempt to reclaim the diocesan seat. Hereford's creation of a retrospective series of bishops' tombs just after the turn of the fourteenth century is less obviously political in nature, suggesting that recreated monuments did not simply offer a solution to a particular problem of authority and status. Their creation as part of a larger remodeling campaign for the eastern end is, as seen above, usually linked to hope for a future saint's shrine in the eastern part of the church; these remodeled aisles would form part of the pilgrimage route to what would become the location for the shrine of Thomas Cantilupe. The presence of bishops' monuments along

108

A history of Wells, the Historiola, was also written at around this time; this includes a prologue which questions the right of Bath to house the episcopal seat: “Historiola de primordiis episcopatus Somersetensis,” Ecclesiastical Documents, ed. Joseph Hunter (Camden Society, 1840, 1968 reprint). See also Binski, Becket's Crown, chapter 5.

158 the length of the aisles served to celebrate and make visibly manifest the long history of the see of Hereford.109 This visual expression of longevity along the route to the intended shrine is a carefully calculated statement of community identity. While certainly the effigies would prominently display the history of the see, the ten effigies at Hereford were not created under any kind of threat to the stability of the diocesan seat, as could be argued for Wells, Canterbury and even Salisbury. Aligning, in this case physically as well as figuratively, local bishops with a local episcopal saint suggests, instead, the desire to create a more general public statement about sanctity, the community's leaders, and their reflection on the religious community as a whole. The chance that one or more local bishops might be canonized, particularly in a climate where the dramatic martyrdom and rapid canonization of Archbishop Thomas Becket in the 1170s heightened the possibilities for episcopal saints, may have encouraged the care a religious community took with its former leaders.110 It would be naive not to suspect that the miraculous cures that were said to have taken place at Bishop Osmund's tomb at Old Sarum influenced the decision to relocate the early bishops' remains to the new site. The importance of controlling access to a potentially sought-after commodity was astutely noted as early as the seventh century by Bishop Cuthbert at Lindisfarne.111 A spate of episcopal canonizations occurred in the thirteenth century, including, among others, Wulfstan of Worcester (d.1095), Hugh of Lincoln (d.1200),

109

Lindley, “Retrospective Effigies,” terms it “propaganda,” and says this type of propaganda was also used at Winchester with its Anglo-Saxon saints, and the fourteenth-century paintings of seven AngloSaxon benefactors at Ely, which were arranged in front of the north transept where pilgrims entered to visit the shrines. Also see Morris, “Architectural History,” 218-9, the display of effigies is “designed to symbolise the longevity and status of episcopal office.” 110 Binksi, Becket's Crown, esp. 81-4, and chapter 6, discusses episcopal sanctification. 111 As noted in chapter 1.

159 William of York (d.1154), Edmund of Abingdon (d.1240), Richard Wych of Chichester (d.1253), and Thomas Cantilupe, (d.1282). A much larger list of bishops who were not officially canonized nevertheless engendered unauthorized cults based on extraordinarily pious personal character or reports of miracles at the tomb.112 These tombs were protected by the establishment, as demonstrated by Archbishop Winchelsey's directive to replace the tomb of Bishop John de Constantiis in its original position at Worcester because he was popularly regarded as a saint.113 The possibility of sainthood aside, the social, intellectual, and political stature of bishops increased in the twelfth and thirteenth centuries. Bishops were extremely highly connected among their ecclesiastical peers as well as among the secular leadership, and played an important role mediating between the two.114 Often extremely wealthy, to their religious communities they were expected to be generous patrons. In the late-twelfth and thirteenth centuries, many bishops were also highly regarded scholars and contributed to reforming their cathedral chapters and diocesan structure.115 The comments of Archbishop Winchelsey regarding the tomb of Bishop Giffard at Worcester in 1301 confirm that a religious community could benefit from ongoing association with its former leaders through the means of an appropriate monument. Interestingly, the appropriateness of the tomb itself, the physical structure, as much as the merits of its 112

For example, at Lincoln, Bishop Grosseteste; at London, Roger Niger; at Norwich, Walter Suffield; at Chichester, Stephen Berksted; at Rochester, Richard Wendene; at York, Sewal de Bovill; at Wells, William Bitton II; at Worcester, Walter Cantilupe. 113 Graham, ed., Registrum Roberti Winchelsey, ed. R Graham (1937), 761-3; and in English in J Wilson, The Worcester Liber Albus (1920), 21-3. 114 See for example the essays in Sean Gilsdorf, ed., The Bishop: Power and Piety at the first Millenium and John S Ott and Anna Trumbore, eds., The Bishop Reformed. 115 M Gibbs and J Lang, Bishops and Reform, 1215-1272 (Oxford, 1934), chapters 2 and 4, emphasize the prominence of the secular scholar-bishops of the thirteenth century. This is also addressed more recently by Binski, Becket's Crown, chapter 6.

160 occupant, could augment or diminish the standing of a church. Winchelsey suggested to the prior that by allowing too much latitude in tomb design and by subverting the natural hierarchy of the church, the chapter at Worcester was actually in danger of lowering the cathedral's standing within the Church rather than increasing it.116 Winchelsey attempted to smooth the situation over by pointing out to the prior that in a lower, different position, the tomb might be visited more easily by the public and thus might serve to increase the church's standing. Accessibility, even in instances where the bishop was not sainted, was as important to the community as to the bishop. Institutions could and did make of their former leaders a public feature, centered around the person's tomb, and careful treatment of the remains of church leaders provided or had the potential for providing great advantage to the community as a whole.

116

This statement about prestige is made within the injunction to remove the tomb: the context is that while a seemly tomb could improve standing, an inappropriate tomb would have the opposite effect. In Wilson's translation, “the honour of a church could be enhanced by a prelate's much-visited and beautiful monument.”

161 Chapter 4: Commemorative Ritual in the Cathedral Environment

Intercessory commemorative rituals that could be conducted for the benefit of the dead after the body had been committed to the earth proliferated in response to the concept of a post-death cleansing of the soul (purgatory), coupled with the belief that the suffering of a soul could be lessened through actions performed by the living. Clive Burgess pointed out in his 1987 work on commemoration in fifteenth-century Bristol that, as of his writing, certain important aspects of English commemorative practice had been overlooked by historians, while others, primarily the founding of chantries, had been the subjects of careful study.1 Medieval commemorative culture has become a major topic of inquiry over the intervening 23 years, but in 2010, Burgess's observation still in some ways holds true. The existing studies of death in the Middle Ages usually are broad in scope, with commemorative ritual forming only one aspect of a larger study which could also discuss rites at the deathbed, the funeral itself, and burial.2 Much has been written in recent years on tombs, on paintings, sculpture and manuscripts relating to death, and on chapels and churches built for commemorative purposes. The relationship between these visible manifestations of commemorative culture to personal memory and individual identity is a particularly fruitful development in scholarship. But the physical

1 Burgess, “Service,” 187. 2 The process of commemoration is treated briefly in Daniell, 39-64; Ariès, chapter four; Binski, Medieval Death, 115-122, although none of these is a full detailed study of what was done. Roberta Gilchrist's study on death in the medieval monastery devotes some attention to ritual, but it is primarily an archaeological study. Daniell's discussion of English commemoration generally uses evidence from later medieval burials, and often those from parish churches (usually laity) and from later medieval wills. More focused studies include Burgess, “Service,” and ibid., “Strategies for Eternity.” The proceedings of the 2008 Harlaxton Symposium, Memory and Commemoration in Medieval England, eds. Caroline Barron and Clive Burgess (Donington, 2010) examines a wide range of topics.

162 memorial was simply one aspect, albeit important, of the organized, elaborate and ongoing rituals that were thought to be particularly effective in gaining repose for the soul. The frequent recitation of prayer that mediated between the object (tomb) and the person commemorated, between the physical body and the immaterial soul, between the individual and the society in which he/she lived, is often side-stepped rather than examined as the crucial factor in these relationships that in fact it was. Burgess and most recently David Lepine and Meriel Connor are, to my knowledge, the only ones to have written specifically on the ritual of the anniversary, which, despite inspiring very little modern scholarly interest, appears to have been the most popular arrangement one could make for the good of one's soul.3 When the methods and practice of commemoration are discussed, the focus tends to be on the role of monasteries in the early medieval period, or on the late medieval period, which has the benefit of a great amount of surviving documentation. Focus, too, is usually directed to arrangements made by the laity, with Gilchrist's study of death in English monastic houses and Connor's study of late medieval monastic obituaries at Canterbury Cathedral standing as important exceptions. With the exception of Lepine's work, which uses the fourteenth- and fifteenth-century evidence from Exeter Cathedral, how the secular clergy looked after their own interests and those of their ecclesiastical peers has not been a topic of scrutiny. The study that follows provides an initial foray into strategies used for commemoration in the twelfth and thirteenth centuries by the English bishops (and to some extent other cathedral dignitaries), in the belief that there is great merit in 3 Burgess, “Service”; Lepine, “'Their Name Liveth for Evermore'?”; Connor, “Fifteenth-Century Monastic Obituaries.” Lepine's study is less about the celebration of the event and more about the broader trends of foundation and funding at Exeter.

163 investigating the actions of those who were tasked with carrying out the ceremonies, and, even more importantly, who were at the forefront of thinking about the perceived efficacy of such ceremonies. The financial provision necessary for ongoing commemoration generated careful documentation from the twelfth century forward, in part because the arrangements needed to be recorded for posterity to ensure continued practice, and in part because the choices available for commemoration were varied and complex. Wills, episcopal acta, cathedral financial documents, and obit calendars help to form an outline of the ways in which the clergy took care of their illustrious dead.4 The liturgical ceremonies can be found in cathedral customaries, missals, and manuals. By contrast, the written evidence regarding commissioning tombs, or for customizing the funeral service, both one-time events, is scant.5 The chapter elucidates the careful actions taken by the English higher clergy to arrange for commemoration and thus their spiritual future, and shows the great emphasis in the twelfth and thirteenth centuries placed on commemorative rituals within the cathedral environment. The chapter then attempts to

4 This chapter also builds on the excellent research into the practicalities of carrying out and arranging for ongoing commemoration carried out for the later medieval period, e.g. studies of chantries (as in my Introduction, n. 10), Clive Burgess's work on wills and anniversaries from late medieval Bristol, and Lepine's work on obits in fourteenth- and fifteenth-century Exeter Cathedral. 5 The collection of wills in Nicolas, Testamenta Vetusta (London, 1826), is by no means complete, but summarizes some of the better-known wills. Most of these specify a favored church for the burial, but only a few give a specific location within that church. A few give instructions about the funeral and the way the body is to be displayed on that occasion, but very few specify the form of the tomb. One rare example is the 1369 will of Joan de Cobham, in which she chose the location of her tomb and gave a description of the form she wanted it to take: a “a plain marble stone...” with a specified inscription. Another, dated 1371, for Sir Walter Manney, Knt, gave a preferred location and requested “a tomb of alabaster with my image as a knight” and with arms thereon, i.e. an effigy. Sometimes money for the making of the tomb is set aside in the will, e.g. Thomas Lord Poynings, who directed his executors to give the money to the abbey for the making of his tomb. John, Earl of Pembroke, gave 140 pounds for the making of his tomb, and for its design, he requested that it “be like” that for Elizabeth de Burgh in the Minories, London. Sir John Montacute, of Salisbury, also wanted an image of a knight with arms and a helmet under the head. The written protection for tombs that would occur in some documents by the fifteenth century (see chapter 3) is not yet evident in the twelfth and thirteenth centuries.

164 bridge the gap between the ephemeral ritual (the words, gestures, song, lights, and scents) and the more permanent objects (the tombs) that survive and are experienced now only through our sense of sight. Was the tomb integrated with these services by the thirteenth century, or did object and ritual stand and operate separately? Is it possible that the everincreasing visibility of tombs was related to the trends apparent in contemporary commemorative ritual?

A bishop's situation regarding commemoration is set apart from that of the general populace in that a bishop, ideally at least, had no direct heirs, and therefore the need to balance provision for the soul and the well-being of heirs was not a pressing matter for the clergy as it was for the laity.6 Bishops could devote the majority of their sometimes substantial income to aid the progress of the soul. To entrust the ongoing care for one's soul to descendants was a source of anxiety, partly because of fear of neglect of future generations, and partly because of the possible impermanence of the family line.7 While a certain amount of a bishop's estate often went to individuals such as nephews, brothers, sisters, parents, friends and/or respected servants, the bulk of the episcopal estates tended to be divided between religious establishments, in arrangements that they hoped would survive indefinitely. In the extant wills, the first gifts to be mentioned are usually those

6 There were some exceptions, for example, Bishop des Roches at Winchester had a son before he entered into any sacerdotal position, and others may have had illegitimate sons. The lack of direct successors allowed bishops to found a number of institutions, e.g. colleges at universities: see M Campbell, “Medieval Founders' Relics: Royal and Episcopal Patronage at Oxford and Cambridge Colleges,” Heraldry, Pageantry, and Social Display, 129 and 140. 7 Issues explored by Burgess, “Service,” 197-99. He shows that the preferable way for laity to avoid the vagaries of heirs and misfortunes of lineage was to donate to the church and allow the church administer the arrangements rather than the heirs. The parish would benefit from any extra income, and thus had a vested interest in making the endowment successful over time.

165 intended for the cathedral at which the bishop most recently served; these are followed by a hierarchical list of other churches/establishments that would also benefit.8 The beneficiary institutions could receive cash or precious objects. Books, church ornaments, and vestments were among the most popular gifts. That the bishop expected prayers to be said on his behalf as a result of his gift is usually not explicitly stated in the will, but the concept of eliciting prayers through the giving of gifts is a known medieval phenomenon.9 Land and substantial sums of cash were often donated to the cathedrals or other religious communities in separate arrangements generated and confirmed during the bishop's lifetime, indicating the higher importance of these endowments, which often did explicitly require prayers and almsgiving in return. In contrast to a monastic house or collegiate foundation, which might have been founded through the generosity of one benefactor, and where, as a result, commemorating that founder and his/her family might number high among the brethren's duties, cathedrals did not commemorate any particular individual besides the establishment's saint(s). The bishop and his household were tasked with leading and overseeing all spiritual processes in the diocese, and the cathedral chapter of canons or monks were

8 Wills survive for only a few thirteenth-century bishops (Aquablanca at Hereford, d.1269; Nicholas Longespee at Salisbury, d.1297; Richard at Chichester, d.1253), but the testaments of later medieval bishops are better represented in the surviving documents. The deathbed bequests of Bishop Henry of Blois (Winchester, d.1171) are also known. 9 A list of gifts given to Exeter Cathedral by Bishop Leofric (d.1072) ends with a request that those at the cathedral would pray for the soul of the bishop who gave them: Warren, Leofric Missal, xxiii. The issue of gift-giving and prayer is explored by, among others, Geary, Living with the Dead, 77-92, and Otto Gerhard Oexle, “Die Gegenwart der Toten,” in Death in the Middle Ages, ed. Herman Braet and Werner Verbeke (Louvain, 1983), 19-77, and “Memoria und Memorialüberlieferung im frühen Mittelalter,” Frümittelalterliche Studien 10 (1976), 70-95. Geary focuses on early medieval society. See also Arnold Angenendt, “Donationes pro anima: Gift and Countergift in the Early Medieval Liturgy,” in The Long Morning of Medieval Europe: New Directions in Early Medieval Studies, eds. Jennifer R Davis and Michael McCormick (Burlington VT: Ashgate Press, 2008), 131-54, and Thomas Head, “The Early Medieval Transformation of Piety,” The Long Morning, 155-60.

166 beholden to this special situation. An individual, then, who was to be buried in the cathedral, usually did not have the freedom of self-expression that a founder of a monastery might have, and choosing a place for burial, and, presumably, being allowed services, had to be approved by the community as a whole (see chapter 3). A cathedral was not a personalized house of prayer for the deceased. Bishops would often, in the thirteenth century and later, found their own charitable institutions or colleges to take this role. Yet despite the fact that a cathedral was not a personal institution, a leader of a religious community could receive special care within its walls, and many went to great lengths to ensure such care was provided. Documentary evidence shows that by the twelfth century, commemorative activities constituted a well-established regular feature in English cathedrals, monastic and secular. A considerable amount of time and resources was devoted to these celebrations.

Honoring the dead at Mass: the memento of the dead and the bidding of the bedes The ancient custom of honoring distinguished benefactors during Mass continued in English cathedrals throughout the medieval period. The inclusion of prayers of an intercessory nature within the Mass was a feature dating from at least the fourth century, appearing first in the eastern church.10 At first intercessory prayers were said on behalf of

10 The two volumes by Jungmann, The Mass of the Roman Rite: Its Origins and Development (Missarum Sollemnia), 1951, 1955, detail the changes to the Mass over time: see vol. I on the historical development, with 'Gothic' period pp. 103-27, and vol. II on the parts of the Mass described in detail (memento of the dead, p. 237-248). See Dix, 193-5 on the liturgy surviving from fourth-century Jerusalem, and 434ff on evolution of western rites. Briggs, “Religion, Society, and Politics,” chapter 2, provides a historical background to the libri vitae with detailed discussion of the early manifestations of intercessory prayers within the mass. Hers is a much more focused look at the early development than those by Dix or Jungmann. See also Paxton, 66-9 and passim for changes to the Mass as part of the burial service, and Boggis, chapters 7-9. Intercessory prayers appear a little later in the west, by the fifth

167 both the living and the dead, combined together in one prayer, and were general, organizing those to be remembered by groups rather than naming specific individuals.11 By the ninth century, it had become standard to separate the intercessory supplications into two portions, into a memento for the living and one for the dead.12 The memento of the dead, in which a plea is made to the Lord to remember his deceased servants, was a general prayer for all the ordinary dead, organized hierarchically by status, but could also highlight for particular remembrance certain individuals by name. These prayers for individuals were not peripheral to the Mass, but came to be located at the core of the Eucharist, in the Canon of the Mass: the prayers said for the living were placed after the offering of the gifts, and those for the dead after the consecration of the host and before the taking of communion.13

century (Jungmann, vol. II, p. 152). 11 The issue of names is complicated. The early rites in the east included general prayers said for both living and dead together, mentioning people hierarchically by group (patriarchs, prophets, apostles, martyrs, bishops, etc.) rather than by specific names: Dix, 193-5; and see Dix, 434ff, for customs in the west. Briggs, 41 and 43, updating the information in Dix, 497-511, suggested that the first evidence for reading out names of the dead is from the fourth century in the eastern church, and early fifth century for north Africa. According to Dix, the names of the dead were incorporated into the western rites in France by the 8-9th century, and in Rome the 9-10th century. Jungmann, vol. II, 159-60, and Briggs, 53, however, found evidence for names of the dead in the Roman rite from the sixth century, read with those of the living, and Briggs, 47, noted that in manuscripts of Gallican and Spanish rites, recital of names of the dead was established practice by the seventh century, together with those of the living at the offertory. 12 Separate mementos of the dead are known from at least the first half of the eighth century in the Roman church and the Irish church. See Jungmann, vol. II, 237-48, on the separation of the memento for the dead from the prayers for the living, citing as the earliest known instance the Irish Bobbio missal, c.700. Briggs, 50-52, noted concrete evidence for its existence in the Roman missal in the early eighth century, but Jungmann had suggested that its designation in the Bobbio missal as a “daily Roman mass” indicates that the memento was used in Rome earlier than c.700, even if only at weekday, more private, masses, rather than the public Sunday masses or masses on feast days. Both note, however, that the early appearances of the memento of the dead are inconsistent. Use of the memento became more generally widespread by the ninth century, with a merging of the Roman rites enforced by Carolingian reform and existing local liturgical practice. See Briggs, 55-6: “one of the many changes brought about by Frankish influence was the “adoption of the “memento etiam” for the dead as part of the ordinary celebration of the Roman Mass.” 13 Dix, 497-502; Jungmann, vol. II, 152 and 108-9. See, as examples, the texts of the canon of the Mass in an early tenth-century sacramentary, Warren, Leofric Missal, 60-62, and a thirteenth-century missal of

168 The inclusion of names of both the dead and the living in the Mass, even though separated into two separate components, demonstrates a certain solidarity among the entire Christian community, those who are and those who were, as both sets awaited a final judgment and, ultimately, full communion with God and the saints.14 The Eucharist served as a reminder of Christ’s sacrifice, and of the promise of redemption that it offered. A memento was primarily intercessory in nature. The celebrant pleads that God remember his servants, and that, for those who are deceased, he grant them repose, a place of refreshment, light and peace. The fact that repose for the dead was thought necessary implies a waiting period, and not necessarily a restful one, between death and final judgment. It is this murky and uncertain concept of a waiting period in which the soul after death received particular judgment and atoned for sins that gives prayer said on behalf of the dead its potency.15 The celebrant's prayers also made clear that the sacrifice made at the altar was an offering to God, that he might extend his mercy, favor and grace to all his people, living and dead.16

the Sarum Use, Legg, Sarum Missal, 1916 (repr. 1969), 221-229. Legg printed the Crawford Missal (a very complete example probably from the thirteenth century), which includes all the textual variations for Sundays, feast days, the Proper of the Saints, special votive Masses, and Masses for the dead. 14 But see Ariès, 149ff, who suggested that earlier commemoration liturgy, when the lists were combined and did not separate out certain individuals, emphasized more strongly the close bond of communion of all members of the church triumphant. He saw the separation of lists as a shift away from community to a concern with individual succor and salvation as the soul prepared to face judgment. 15 Purgatory was not officially declared until 1274. Le Goff's study on Purgatory suggested it appeared in the late twelfth century, but the examples of Gregory, and also Bede, show that a place of purgation (though differing in form) seemed to have been understood much earlier: see chapter 1. 16 The sacrifice is pronounced to be offered specifically for redemption of the souls of the living, for the hope of their salvation and security, then the host is raised, and then a similar plea made for the dead, emphasizing God's mercy and the hope that he will grant them refreshment, light, and peace as they wait. Jungmann, vol. II, 101-2, found a shift in Eucharistic teaching which “led to a lessening regard for the oblation which we ourselves offer up and in which we offer ourselves as members of the Body of Christ, and a greater attention to the act of transubstantiation in which the divine omnipotence becomes operative in the midst of us….” The idea was stated by Chrysostom and others that the prayers for the dead would be more efficacious in the presence of the consecrated offering.

169 During the Mass, the celebrant requested that God inscribe the names of the living and the dead among those of the elect, so that they will not be turned away at the final judgment. The source of this request perhaps lies in scripture referring to a Book of Life. That the names of those who will be saved were written in such a book is foretold in Daniel 12:1 “And at that time shall Michael stand up, the great prince which standeth for the children of thy people: and there shall be a time of trouble, such as never was since there was a nation even to that same time: and at that time thy people shall be delivered, every one that shall be found written in the book.”17 John's revelation picks up the theme again: “And I saw in the right hand of him that sat on the throne a book written within and on the backside, sealed with seven seals” (Rev 5:1). The concept had an earthly counterpart in church practice. Early medieval custom entailed inscribing names onto diptychs which were then placed on the altar during Mass.18 The evidence of manuscript libri vitae in England shows that the concept of a list of names to be inserted into the Mass was in use in the British Isles from the ninth century, if not before.19 The contents

17 See also Ariès, 103. 18 Diptychs first appear in literature referring to a dispute in the early fifth century about whether St John Chrystostom's name should be put into the diptychs of the dead (he died an exile): Briggs, 44-5; Dix, 502. These early lists included both clergy and laity, were separated into two sections, for the living and the dead, and were arranged according to class (e.g. benefactors, high ranking clergymen, martyrs or confessors, and the faithful who had died in the faith of the church). Bishops were included according to sequence of succession. 19 Briggs, 53-4, suggested with hesitation that an early seventh-century request for a name to be inscribed in the book of life might be an early example of the practice of recording names in a church manuscript. The evidence from Bede (early eighth century) is also suggestive: Bede, in his prologue to his Vita S. Cuthberti, reminded the bishop of Lindisfarne of his promise to write Bede's name in the register (album), and on completion of the life of St Cuthbert, Bede expressed the wish that when he was dead the bishop would pray for the redemption of his soul and celebrate masses as if he belonged to that household, and to inscribe his name among their own (Keynes, “Liber Vitae,” 151). Early surviving manuscript libri vitae in the UK include one from Durham, ninth century; from New Minster and Hyde, early eleventh century; and from Thorney in the early twelfth century. The oldest extant books on the continent are a Salzburg liber vitae, 784; St Gall Liber Confraternitas c.810; Liber Memorialis of Remiremont 820-21; Reichenau's confraternity book, 826; commemoration lists of San Salvatore or San Giulia, in Brescia, ninth century sacramentary; and confraternity lists of Pfafers included in a Gospel

170 of most of the surviving English libri vitae were names of benefactors, members of the religious community, and those who were accepted into its confraternity, organized under certain headings that made them, as Gerchow explained, “likely to have been compiled by re-ordering pre-existing lists, in the form either of books or of unbound leaves.”20 The names only are written, not the place with which the person is associated, nor any dates or details relevant to the individual.21 The Durham liber vitae, the oldest to survive in England, is extensive, consisting of a core list from the ninth century of over 3,000 names with later additions, all written in a particularly lavish manner in alternating gold and silver. The lists are arranged by status, each group with its own heading. While lay people at the upper echelons of society are added, the majority of the names are ecclesiastical, representing all levels of the church hierarchy. The prologue to the early eleventh-century Hyde liber vitae contains oft-cited but highly useful comments regarding the book's purpose and use: “There are set down here in due order the names of brethren and monks, of members of the household also, or of benefactors living and dead, that by the perishable memorial of this writing they may be written in the page of the heavenly book....” Specific instructions as to how the names were to be incorporated into the earthly liturgy were also given in the preface. The names were recorded here “in order that remembrance may be made of them daily in the sacred celebration of the Mass or in the harmonious chanting of Psalms. And let the names

manuscript beginning c.830. 20 Gerchow, “The Origins of the Durham Liber Vitae,” Durham Liber Vitae, 46. These are thus tidied-up versions of earlier lists, suggesting the practice of recording names was older than the libri themselves. 21 Gerchow, 46, notes that this is different to continental libri vitae or confraternity books, which tend to have lists organized by place: their “arrangement seems to be based on that of earlier libri, which was inspired by the early Christian diptychs, representing ordines in the sense of ranks and normally divided into the living and the dead.” However, the Durham liber vitae does not divide between living or dead.

171 themselves be presented daily by the subdeacon before the altar at the early or principal mass, and as far as time shall allow let them be recited by him in the sight of the Most High.”22 The sheer number of names in these books makes an organized reading of the names impossible, and the celebrant, as the preface directs, if he had time, could choose some of the names to read out loud. The book was incorporated physically into the Mass by its placement on the high altar: “And that, after the offering of the oblation, they may be humbly commended to Almighty God, by the placing (of this book) upon the holy altar, during the Canon, on the right hand of the cardinal, who is celebrating the mass. In order that, as commemoration is made of them on earth, so in the life beyond, by the mercy of Him who alone knows how all there are or are to be, the glory of those of greater merit may be augmented, and the cause of those of lesser desert may be helped. Rejoice therefore and be glad, for your names are written in heaven.”23 The name, added to the Mass, continued to be seen as a powerful option for commemoration into the later medieval period. Libri vitae and other lists of the dead were updated over time. The memento for the dead was retained in England in missals of the Sarum and York Uses, along with the option to insert the names of specific key individuals.24 The reading of names during the memento of the dead in the Mass was not, as it 22 This and the following quotes from the Hyde liber vitae are Brigg's translation, “Religion, Society and Politics,” 61-2, from the transcription in Birch, Liber Vitae Hyde, 15-16. 23 The author of the Rites of Durham, chapter X, 16-17, tells us that the Durham liber vitae similarly was kept on the high altar. 24 See the order of the canon of the Mass in the thirteenth-century Crawford Missal (Sarum), Legg, Sarum Missal, 221-229 for the memento for the living and the dead. The order for Trinity Sunday from a c.1425 York missal is printed in Latin and English in Simmons, Lay Folks Mass-book, 90-117. The memento of the dead, 110-11, has an N in place of specific names, which the celebrant would fill in. See also the early tenth-century canon of the Mass in the Leofric sacramentary, Warren, 60-62, where it implies the addition of names (“illorum et illarum”).

172 might seem, a public announcement. As the preface to the Hyde liber vitae indicates, many names could and must have been omitted, and their inclusion was at the discretion of the celebrant. For those names that went unmentioned, inclusion was effected by physical presence on the altar rather than by audible pronouncement. In the early medieval period, the memento seems to have been at first a feature of non-public Masses, those said on weekdays among the conventual community, rather than at high Mass on Sundays or the greater feast days.25 Even when the addition had become accepted as a component suitable for the more public masses, as it was in England by the thirteenth century, the custom since the eighth century had been to say the canon of the Mass in silence, or near-silence.26 The custom of silence is confirmed by the Lay Folks' Massbook, an instructional manual for the lay audience attending Mass, in which the audience member is directed to offer up prayers for the dead at the same moment that the priest would pray the memento for the dead.27 Thus, the priest and the audience were simultaneously engaged in personal, quiet prayer. The silence of this portion of the

25 See n.12. 26 Jungmann, vol. II, 104, 164, 244-5, from the prayer beginning Te igitur, after the Sanctus and Benedictus. Once the canon was said in a low tone, the names, too, were said quietly. Jungmann cited an eleventh-century account where the names were whispered into the priest’s ear. Briggs, 56-8, notes that the names were read out loud in Gallican liturgy but quietly in the Roman, and suggests that in the north the Roman practice might not entirely have been adopted. But see n. 27 below on the custom in France and England from the twelfth century. The memento is included in the canon of the Mass in the thirteenth-century Crawford Missal, Legg, Sarum Missal, 223-4, although the directions do not specify that this should be said in a lowered voice. 27 T.F Simmons, The Lay Folks Mass Book or the Manner of Hearing Mass..., Early English Text Society (London, 1879), 42-7. There are several versions (texts b,c,e,f), but all say the same thing. After the host had been raised and the bell rung, the audience was directed to laud and bless Christ, and after the paternoster, Ave Maria, and credo have been said, say a short prayer for mercy for the dead, while bowing. Each audience member was to request that this Mass might aid all sinful Christian souls in Purgatory, particularly those of family and anyone who has ever performed acts of kindness to the petitioner, that God may forgive them all their trespasses, loosen their bonds, and let them pass from the pain of Purgatory to everlasting heavenly joy. Simmons, xxxii-liii, believed this was originally written in French in the mid-twelfth century and referred to the Use of Rouen, although it was translated into English and adapted to English usage about a century later.

173 proceedings is further indicated by the instructions in the Mass-book for the audience to follow by sight the gestures made by the priest, including elevating the host and holding his arms out wide to simulate the cross. These gestures, which occur just before the memento for the dead, were the visual cues for the audience to move on to their private prayers for the dead.28 Should the audience member's prayers finish before those of the priest, he/she is instructed to say the paternoster quietly until the priest finishes his memento and begins again to pray audibly. The petition contained within the text of the memento, then, had no public or propagandistic motive. The desire was purely to be included in the sacred mysteries of the Mass and to be remembered before God at the altar along with the consecrated offering. A more public recognition of the dead, however, seems to have become a feature of the Mass at least by the Conquest in some parts of England, namely in the addition to the Mass of the bidding of the bedes. Bidding prayers survive from the tenth century in the Leofric sacramentary, and from the early eleventh century in a York gospel book.29

28 Simmons, 42-47. The actions made by the priest during the canon are specified e.g. in the thirteenthcentury Crawford Missal, Legg, Sarum Missal, 221-229, and the c.1425 York missal, Simmons, 104111. 29 Henderson, ed., Manuale et Processionale ad Usum Insignis Ecclesiae Eboracensis, Durham, Surtees Society, 1875, 219*-220*, prints the Loefric bidding prayer (Bodl Bodley 579) and the eleventh-century York prayer. See also 123-7 for a bidding prayer from York manuals (compiled from four manuscripts dating from the fourteenth through early sixteenth centuries), and 220*-226*, for additional bidding prayers from c.1400 (Sarum Missal, Bodl Ms Barlow 5); fifteenth century (Sarum Processional at cathedral, here only in a truncated version); and an undated London bidding prayer (BL MS Harl 335). Simmons, Lay Folks' Mass-book, 61-74, printed four medieval York bidding prayers including the eleventh-century one (although he labeled it tenth century); a c.1405 prayer from a York Manual; a c.1440-50 prayer from a York manual for use in parish church; this very similar to that printed by Henderson); and a c.1490-1500 shorter version of the prayer. See also his discussion of these, p. 315ff. See also Lepine and Orme, 337-9, for a fifteenth-century bidding prayer from Exeter. See Wordsworth, Ceremonies, 21-32 and xix for a Salisbury prayer first written about 1440, revised up to the date of about 1485-90, and then written out again in the time of Philip and Mary when the older ones had become difficult to read. The York pre-Conquest bidding prayer begins with list of the living, organized by general categories, then bids prayers for the spirits, that God grant them a place of refrigerium. Simmons commented that bidding prayers do not appear in the Roman use, therefore he suggested they

174 These prayers combine petitions for the living and the departed, requesting, like in the memento, that God grant all souls a place of rest. Bidding prayers were specifically directed to a listening audience. The Salisbury bidding prayer formed a part of the procession that prefaced the Sunday Mass. After sprinkling the altars in succession, the procession returned to the rood, where the priest was instructed to turn around to face the congregation, and read the bede-list out loud, in the native tongue, along with certain prayers.30 The procession would then enter the choir, with the exception of the priest and his ministers, who were to asperge the cemetery of the canons and to say there additional prayers for the dead before returning to vest for the Mass. That the text of the prayers was recorded in English rather than Latin is also indicative of its public function. Bidding prayers were said on behalf of the living and the dead, and each surviving manuscript follows certain patterns in its organization of content. Each, for example, directs the audience to pray for people grouped together based on status. The prayers for the living give precedence to those presently serving within the church; this list begins with leading members of the church hierarchy, then is followed by the king and other secular leaders, and all manner of lay persons, before moving on to prayers for

were customs retained from the Gallican church. 30 Directions for the prayer in the c.1400 Sarum missal state that after the asperging of the altars, the priest turns to the people and says the bidding prayer in the mother tongue: “post aspersionem vertat se Sacerdos ad populum et dicat preces in lingua materna in ecclesia Sarum hoc modo...” (Henderson, 220*). The Sunday order of processions at Salisbury in the thirteenth-century Consuetudinary make clear that the prayers were said before entering the choir (Rich Jones, RSO, vol. I, xxxiv, 116-25). The fifteenth-century bidding prayer at Salisbury includes specific directions for the celebrant to turn and face the audience (Wordsworth, Ceremonies, 21-32). This and the medieval bidding prayers from York in Simmons, Lay folks Mass-book, 62-74, are in English; see Simmons' discussion, 315-321. See also Baxter, Sarum Use, 51, who commented on the use of English vs. Latin. St John Hope, “The Sarum Consuetudinary and its relation to the Cathedral Church of Old Sarum,” Archaeologia LXVIII, 117, discussed the procession and prayer in terms of the church at Old Sarum.

175 the dead.31 Not all of the surviving texts of these prayers allow for the celebrant to insert individual names. A blank space in the manuscript of the pre-Conquest York bidding prayer at the place where prayers for the dead were to be spoken suggested to Simmons that at this point in the prayer the priest had the opportunity to insert individual names from the bede-roll.32 Later York bidding prayers, however, do not leave provision for specific names, although parish records indicate that such names could be included.33 Certainly, fifteenth-century bidding prayers from Salisbury and Exeter demonstrate that by that time, a fixed list of names of the dead had been incorporated into the text, to be read in its entirety at the Rood.34 In these, too, the prayer was hierarchically arranged. At the head of the lists are the bishops, listed in order of succession, and then follow other names of cathedral personnel or benefactors, grouped by rank. In the bidding prayers, emphasis lies on the local, as the participants are asked to pray for those who led the local institution, had aided it in some way, or who had been buried in that place. This interest in locality is evident in the York prayers even as early as the eleventh century, where the first of the deceased to be mentioned are those who had founded or benefited the church, with book, or vestment, or light.35 A London

31 See the bidding prayers printed in Henderson and Simmons. A c.1405 bidding prayer begins with the living in the hierarchy of the church, from the highest down to the lowest order, before mentioning the King. Their prayers for the dead, however, are not quite so detailed. The Salisbury list (Wordsworth, Ceremonies, 21-32) is much longer and more detailed. It preserves the hierarchical order in the sections for the living and for the dead, and for both, begins with the members of the church. The list of the dead to be remembered in the Exeter prayer, however, begins with kings, then lists bishops (Lepine and Orme, 337-9). 32 Simmons, 328-9. 33 Simmons, 329, noted, too, the lack of names at York, but cited an early sixteenth-century reference in a parish document about a couple who wished their names to be read from the bede-roll on Sundays; clearly individual names were read out despite the lack of notation for it in the text of the bidding prayer. 34 Wordsworth, Ceremonies, 21-32; Lepine and Orme, 337-9. 35 Simmons, 62-3. The c.1405 York prayer especially mentioned those who founded and benefited this

176 bidding prayer asks the congregation to pray first for the souls of family members, then for souls who gave to that particular church, followed by those who are commemorated in that church yearly, and then for those who are buried there, and finally for all the remaining souls in purgatory.36 The prayer in the Barlow Sarum missal also puts first the souls who rest in the local church/churchyard, and those who in life or by bequest aided that church.37 The officiator at Salisbury Cathedral's Sunday Mass was to make special note of those bishops who were buried in the church: “In especial for alle bisshopes sowles whos bodyes resteth in this holy place.”38 Then follows a list of their names, and a concluding clause that explains that these bishops have especially benefited the church: “Whych Byschopys have in ther tyme wurchipped thys churche wythe precyous vestymentys & many other Jewells.” As with those of higher status, those of lower social status who were buried at Salisbury or who gave gifts were entitled to a slightly higher ranking in the prayer than those who had not: the celebrant requested prayer “for alle soules whos bonys resteth in this chirche and chirche yard,” then for any others who might have done any good for the church, and, lastly, for all other Christian souls.39 The emphasis on the body being locally buried or on gifts being donated to the church shows

36 37 38

39

church, with book or vestment, light, etc., and towards the end, bodies buried in the local churchyard are also called out for special mention (Ibid., 64-67, and see also 68-73 and Henderson, 123-7). Henderson, 223*-225*. Henderson, 220*-223*. Wordsworth, Ceremonies, 24-6. It is interesting that Bishop Osmund (later Saint) is not included in this list. The list includes some additional bishops from other churches, interspersed with the most recent Salisbury bishops (late 14th-15th century). Some, but not all, of these previously held a position at Salisbury, e.g. a bishop of Norwich who had formerly been Dean of Salisbury (James Goldwell, d.1499); Thomas Langton, Bishop of Winchester, who had formerly been Bishop of Salisbury; and Harry Dene/Shere, who died Archbishop of Canterbury but had been Bishop of Salisbury. There is space remaining after these entries for future bishops to be recorded in the list. Wordsworth, Ceremonies, 27-31, with special emphasis on “patrones of this churche and all other lordes that have worshipped hit with her bodyes, rentis, or any other jowels” (p. 27), “And for the soules of all other mysnysters of thus churche whiche haue sersued hit or done eny gode therto in her dayes” (p. 29), and lastly for all the bones it its churchyard (p. 31).

177 that the physical presence of the body (or physical evidence of a one-time presence) had become an important factor in the level of commemoration received.

Yearly remembrance (anniversaries) The lists, discussed above, in which the names of the dead were recorded were organized according to status rather than by date within the liturgical year. By the eleventh century, if not before, cathedrals and monasteries in England were organizing their notable deceased by date of death in obit calendars, or necrologies, thereby incorporating the individual into the unceasing annual round of prayers and feasts in the liturgical calendar.40 Mimicking in form the martyrology, or the calendar of saints' days, the obit calendar suggests that the death date of an individual, not just of the 'special dead', was cause for celebration. The calendar made possible a different type of recognition to that received generally along with other benefactors, in the libri vitae, one that involved a full complement of prayers and a personalized mass on the anniversary of death. Early obit calendars were bound in with sacramentaries, breviaries, and evangeliaries, and thus there is a strong likelihood that they were used in conjunction

40 Simon Keynes, “Liber Vitae,” 151, stresses that there was a “well-developed culture of liturgical commemoration in Anglo-Saxon England, which was already thriving, as on the continent, in the eighth and ninth centuries, and which continued to flourish in the tenth and eleventh centuries.” As an example, he points out that the concept of an anniversary calendar may have been well-known: Bede mentioned that certain obits at Selsey abbey were entered into an annale (Keynes translates as “calendar”) and observed at the monastery, and Bede himself requested that his own name be written in the album of Cuthbert's community at Lindisfarne. Keynes, “Liber Vitae,” 152-3 and Liber Vitae, introduction, both summarize the early calendar texts in the British Isles. Crouch has found evidence of financial provisions for anniversaries in England dating back to the tenth century. Extant obits in calendars are known from c.1050, and are listed in notes 40 and 41 below. At Exeter, there is evidence of parish churches and city guilds maintaining obit lists by c.1200 (Lepine and Orme, 233).

178 with the Mass.41 It seems likely that these calendars supplied the priest with appropriate names to be entered each day into the two commemorative portions of the Mass: the memento and the bidding prayers. From the eleventh century forward, more common practice was to associate the obit calendar instead with texts used in the chapter house, such as the Rule of St Benedict or, more commonly, the martyrology.42 Obit calendars were usually merged with the liturgical calendar, so that the major feasts were listed 41 For example, calendar pages with obits were bound with a sacramentary and parts of a missal at Exeter (Bodl MS Bodley 579, by the end of the eleventh century and one of only a few Anglo-Saxon missals known; printed in Warren, The Leofric Missal as used in the Cathedral of Exeter, Oxford, 1883; and more recent edition by Orchard, N. A. (ed.), The Leofric Missal, 2 vols., Henry Bradshaw Society 113– 4 (Woodbridge, 2001–2). The calendar pages are printed in Lepine and Orme, 249-50), a thirteenthcentury breviary at Hyde Abbey, and the eleventh-century Homiliary of St Wulfstan at Worcester (Bod Hatton 113-4). Some were also placed into personal prayer books, as Aelfwine's (dean, then abbot) eleventh-century prayerbook at New Minster (BL Cotton Titus D xxvii and xxvi). See Keynes, Liber Vitae, 59. 42 Obits were copied in the mid-eleventh century into the margins of Abingdon Abbey's martyrology, (Cambridge, Corpus Christi, 57). From Christ Church, Canterbury (BL Cotton Nero C ix fols 19-21 and LPL MS 430, flyleaves), are surviving fragments of an obituary list compiled c.1100. BL Royal 7 E VI is the 'old martyrology' of Christ Church, from the second quarter of the twelfth century. BL Cotton Nero C ix, fols 3-18 are surviving fragments of a martrology from the second quarter of the thirteenth century. From St Augustine's is an early twelfth-century martyrology with obits (BL Cotton Vitellius C xii, fols 114-56). A twelfth-century calendar from Ely contains over 350 obits (Trinity College O.2.1). The preceding calendars are discussed in Keynes, Liber Vitae, 59. Lepine and Orme, 231, 250-258, print an early twelfth-century martyrology from Exeter with obits. The two volumes of Peterborough's Consuetudinary each begin with a calendar (Lambeth MSS 198 and 198b. See C Wordsworth, “A Kalendar or Directory of Lincoln Use; and Kalendarium e Consuetudinario Monasterii de Burgo Sancti Petri,” Archaeologia 51, pt. 1 (1888). These are dated to the latter half of the fourteenth century.) Surviving obit calendars at cathedrals also include the following: at Lincoln, an obit calendar was entered into the great Latin bible c.1185, between the book of Job and the psalms; a list (the so-called Martilogium) also survives in a copy with the cathedral's customary (1214) made by John of Schalby in the early 1330s, and in a sixteenth-century copy with additions (Statutes of Lincoln, ccxxxiii, lxxviii, ccxxxv-ccxliii, ccxliii-ccxlvi, ccxlvi-vii. Unfortunately, the authors only list the names, not the entire texts from these lists). At Hereford, an obit book was compiled in 1298, but it preserved much older material (Bod MS Rawlinson B 328, printed by Rawlinson, The History and Antiquities of the City and Cathedral-church of Hereford (1717), appendix, pp. 1-31; see also Barrow, “Athelstan to Aigueblanche, 1056-1268,” Hereford Cathedral: A History, eds. Aylmer and Tiller (London, 2000), 401). At Salisbury, the only surviving copy is from the mid-fifteenth century, but a second is known, albeit lost (the first is printed in Wordsworth and Macleane, 1-14 and Wordsworth, Ceremonies, 22942; the second was mentioned by Leland and some of its entries were copied out by him). Later medieval obit calendars at Exeter are printed in Lepine and Orme, 316-29 and see discussion, pp. 24446. During the thirteenth century, the calendar at St Paul's included the liturgical feast days as well as, in a separate column, the anniversaries to be acknowledged (see Thacker, “The Cult of Saints and the Liturgy,” St Paul's: The Cathedral Church of London 604-2004, eds. Keene, Burns, Saint (New Haven, 2004), 118, and W. Sparrow Simpson, ed., Documents Illustrating the History of St Paul's Cathedral, Camden Society, 1880).

179 alongside the local deceased to be celebrated.43 In cathedral chapters, the list of remembrances recorded in the obit calendars was noted daily at the chapter meeting along with other special notices for the day, as the early thirteenth-century Salisbury Consuetudinary instructs. On a weekly basis a chorister boy was to be assigned to read from the lectern the martyrology and afterwards to proclaim that day's obits. As summarized by Rich Jones, “after the boy had gone through the list, the officiating priest, standing behind the reader, said a short prayer for their souls, and for the souls of all the faithful deceased, that through the mercy of God they might rest in peace.”44 As there was no altar in the Salisbury chapter house, this particular attention paid to the dead was not directly associated with a Mass.45 The reading from the obit calendar in chapter served simply as an announcement to initiate a celebration of the anniversary of the death of the individual. The full anniversary celebration required a much greater involvement of time from the cathedral clergy than did praying on behalf of an individual at a Mass as described in the previous section. Anniversaries have received relatively little emphasis in the literature, despite the refreshing focus on the topic provided by Clive Burgess's article on anniversary ceremonies in late medieval Bristol.46 Burgess's

43 For example the late tenth-century calendar with additions until the late eleventh century in the Leofric Missal, Warren, l-li and 23-34. Not all liturgical calendars included the names of the ordinary dead. See, for example, the thirteenth-century Crawford Missal printed in Legg, Sarum Missal, 1916, xxi-xxxii, and later versions in ibid., 499-518. 44 Rich Jones, RSO, vol. I, xxx-xxxi, and 58-9, chapter 30 of the Consuetudinary, “De ordinatione clericorum in capitulo.” After the martyrology and obits came a reading which had been arranged by the chancellor, and then followed any discussion of duties (neglected and to be performed); on Sundays of feast days this would involve setting out the 'tabula' or roster of duties for the week. 45 St John Hope, “Sarum,” suggested that the Consuetudinary was written for the older church, and it was certainly written before the new chapter house was built; therefore it may have been written with access to an altar in mind. Wordsworth and Macleane, 122, suggest that the chapter used to meet in the eastern chapel before the chapter house was built. However, the instructions for chapter meetings in the Consuetudinary do not call for a mass related to the dead at this part of the day. 46 Mentioned by Stanford, “Body at the Funeral,” most recently, but this is not the emphasis of her article

180 study benefited from extensive surviving documentation to outline clearly the extent of anniversary activities for that location. Crouch's study on early forms of arrangements for intercessory prayer found evidence for anniversaries being celebrated for abbots, bishops, and prominent laity as far back as the tenth century.47 During the late twelfth and the thirteenth centuries, documentation shows that celebrating anniversaries at English cathedrals had become a frequent activity. The clergy, in fact, seem to have been the most populous group to make regular provision for annual commemorative services in cathedrals. As Sparrow Simpson noted regarding the obit calendar and related accounts for St Paul's cathedral, “by far the greater number of these Obits were founded either by the Clergy for themselves, or by their relatives acting in their behalf.”48 Lepine's study of the extensive surviving documentation at Exeter demonstrates that the obits celebrated at the cathedral were primarily for the cathedral community. He makes the point that such celebrations helped to “preserve the collective memory and history of the cathedral.”49 For those who could afford it, an anniversary entailed a yearly recreation of the officium defunctorum, or Office for the dead, and a requiem Mass, both of which for most people were one-time events, celebrated only at death, and ending with the lowering of the body into the grave.50 A 1256 ordinance of Robert de Hertford, Dean of Salisbury—

47 48 49 50

as it is for Clive Burgess's older but more directly relevant article, “Service.” Lepine and Orme, part III, deal with anniversaries at Exeter, but are mostly interested in extant financial documentation for obits rather than in discussing the ceremony itself. Crouch, 162. Sparrow Simpson, 202. Lepine, 65 and 70. The full extent of an anniversary celebration is often not expressly noted, but see Stanford, “Body at the Funeral,” 666, where she states that a bishop of Paris was given a full funeral ceremony for his anniversary: “Lights, bells, liturgy: all combined to re-create the initial funeral experience anew each year.” See also Burgess, “Service”; Crouch, 169. See Henderson, 60-102, for texts of the services of the dead according to the York Use; ibid., 60*-85* for the Sarum Use; and ibid., 122*-125* for the

181 unusually detailed in this regard—requested the clergy to celebrate annuale (annually) for his soul and for the souls of all his benefactors, of all the Sarum canons, and of all the faithful dead, complete with a Mass, a commendatione, and “placebo” and “dirige”; in other words, the full funerary office.51 The 1302 document detailing expenses for Dean Andrew Kilkenny's funeral and future commemoration separates the funeral rites from the requiem Mass, as two separate parts of the anniversary service.52 Such lengthy annual celebration was a common enough occurrence by the early thirteenth century that the instructions contained in the Salisbury Consuetudinary on the manner of executing the Office for the dead note in several instances that the same directions were to be followed in anniversary celebrations.53 As Burgess explained, “Liturgically it [the anniversary] was, with few alterations, a repetition of the rites accompanying—or, more strictly,

Hereford Use. The Sarum manual (1506) is particularly detailed, and gives variations in the rubrics for adjusting the Office to suit the liturgical calendar or to celebrate an anniversary. Translations of the modern rite can be found in P. Weller, ed., The Roman Ritual, in Latin and English, with Rubrics and Planechant Notation (Milwaukee, 1952), vol. II, 36-137; The Hours of the Divine Office in English and Latin (Collegeville, MN, 1963), vol. I, 991-1029. 51 Rich Jones, RSO, vol. I, 390-3. There is some question as to whether this was a chantry for a daily mass as well as the anniversary, as only the details for the anniversary are specified. Yet the heading in the register refers to it as a cantaria. See Wordsworth, Ceremonies, 197-8, who says the dean (d.1258) had “in 1256 given directions to found a chantry for his soul and the souls of / his benefactors and all canons of Sarum and all faithful souls; and one of the Priest Vicars was to be appointed to do the service, and to have 40s, i.e. three-fifths of the annual income of 5 marcs, which the Abbess of Wilton was liable to pay.” Yet the document states that this money was “ad celebrandum annuale pro anima mea” (i.e., an anniversary). The dean had paid a lump sum of 100 marks for this perpetual arrangement to the Abbess of Wilton, who was responsible for supplying the annual five marks for the celebrations. Besides the 40 shilling salary for the priest, Dean Hertford also left a mark to the Sarum communa and the residential canons for them to receive on his anniversary, “ut ipsi memoriam habeant de me post mortem meam in orationibus et suffragiis suis, et aliis benefactis.” Canons who serve were to receive three d, the vicars 1 d, and the altarists 1 obolum. The boys of the choir would get 6 d. The rest was to be equally divided between the Friars Minor of Sarum and of Wilton. The Salisbury obit calendar records an abbreviated version of the finances: he is listed in February as “per abbatissam Wilton. Canonico iii d; vicario i d. Residuum fratribus.” 52 Lepine and Orme, 312-15. 53 Rich Jones, RSO, vol. I, 183, for example, “This manner of service of the dead holds good in every anniversary and trigintal, after the first day of the trigintal.” On the Office, see Rich Jones, vol. I, xxxvivii. The corresponding section in the Consuetudinary is printed by him pp. 180-85, section CIV. See also the rubrics of the 1506 version of the Sarum Use printed in Henderson, 60*-80*.

182 preceding—the interment of the body after death.”54 Funeral ceremonies ideally followed a standard sequence, carried out in multiple parts, with, if possible, prayers said at vespers (“placebo”) on the evening before the burial, and a special combined matins and lauds sung on the day of the burial (“dirige”).55 The text of the Office consisted of antiphons, psalms and prayers, and, at matins, nine readings (the “nocturnes”) from the book of Job.56 The Sarum Consuetudinary is extremely specific in how the Office for the dead was performed, explaining which direction the priest should face, when the members of the choir should be prostrate, which parts of the Office should be sung by whom, in which form the lections should be read, and how the responsories were to be said.57 The bodies of clergy were given special treatment in that their bodies could be placed within the choir, while bodies of the laity were to be kept outside the choir enclosure.58

54 “Service,” 183. His evidence comes from the sometimes full, sometimes partial, sometimes non-existent specifications in fifteenth-century wills and churchwardens' account. He says that despite this discrepancy in the surviving literature, the anniversary was a fairly standardized process, with little variation from one person's to the next, except perhaps in the longevity of the request (e.g. 20 years, perpetuity, etc. See. p. 186). 55 Burgess, “Service,” 184, however, suggests that for the anniversary, this order was altered so that the office was all said on one day, and the mass on the next. As the directions for the service make clear, variable factors in the liturgical calendar might alter the order of service. Vespers are often referred to as “Placebo,” from the first psalm to be sung (psalm cxvi. 9), and matins as “Dirige,” for the psalm v.8, Vulgate version. “Dirige” included the Lord's prayer, lections, “Benedictus” and the “Magnificat.” See Rich Jones, RSO, vol. I, 35. The choir was to kneel at specific moments during these prayers, as section xviii in the Sarum Consuetudinary directs. Fortescue and O'Connell, The Ceremonies of the Roman Rite Described, 1996, chapter xxx, address the actions to be made during all parts of the funerary rite. 56 The readings from Job include, as the 8th lesson of matins, Job's statement on the form of the body at resurrection (Job 19:20-27). 57 Rich Jones, RSO, vol. I, 180-5, Section CIV of the Sarum Consuetudinary; Henderson, 60*-80*. 58 Images of the Office in fifteenth-century books of Hours often show the coffin in the choir near the altar (for example, in Wieck, Painted Prayers, 122; Time Sanctified, 126-7). However, the written evidence suggests a distinction between placement of the coffin for clergy and laity: see for example Rich Jones, RSO, vol. I, section XCI, 144-5; the Sarum Use in Henderson, 59*. The distinction is also found in the fourteenth-century Ordinale drawn up for Exeter Cathedral (Lepine and Orme, 19). In some larger medieval funerals the coffin could be visited by the public, which implies a position outside the choir. For example, the will of Margaret, Countess of Devon (mother of Courtenay, Archbishop of

183 At a funeral, a requiem Mass, celebrated expressly for the deceased, followed the praying of the Office for the dead. The requiem Mass is identified in miniatures by a celebrant in mass vestments standing before an altar, on which would be placed a missal and chalice, sometimes protected under a cloth.59 The coffin has a catafalque or hearse placed over it, and is depicted (perhaps with artistic license) immediately in front of the altar. The Mass for the dead was a combination of texts specially chosen to proclaim the belief in the mercy of God and faith in the promise of Resurrection.60 In places, it admitted the terror that may have to be faced at the final judgment. The Mass could be tailored depending on for whom it was to be sung; the Sarum Missal included variations in the opening prayer before the readings from the Epistles and the Gradual, during which the celebrant entreats the Lord to receive the soul of his servant into paradise; the secretum, said during the Offertory, in which the celebrant petitions God to receive the Eucharistic sacrifice on behalf of the deceased; and the postcommunion prayer, in which again God is asked to grant that the soul of the deceased be purified by the Mass and Canterbury), buried in Exeter with her husband in 1391, asked for iron bars around the coffin “to keep off the press of people” during the funeral (Nicholas, Testamenta Vetusta, 127). Burgess, “Service,” 187, supposes that the hearse would be placed inside the choir for an anniversary, but given the distinction between laity and clergy noted here for the funeral Office, it is possible that a similar distinction was maintained for the anniversary. The modern Roman Rite for funerals requires that the prayers be said in the choir while the coffin is placed just outside of the entrance to the choir (Fortescue and O'Connell, 201; Weller, Roman Ritual, 17: “The coffin is then set in the middle of the church”). In the modern rite, the bodies of priests were to be treated slightly differently from other bodies, in that their coffins were to be placed with their heads at the east end, towards the altar, rather than at the west end, further away from the altar (Fortescue and O'Connell, 390; Weller, Roman Ritual, p. xv, 5, 17). I have not found any evidence that this was a medieval custom. 59 Wieck, “The Death Desired,” 460-463; ibid., Painted Prayers, 122-4; ibid., Time Sanctified, 24, 127, 146. 60 For a thirteenth-century text of the Mass for the dead, see Legg, Sarum Missal, 431-33; also a modern version in the Saint Andrew Bible Missal, 1965, 1128-1160. The texts could be drawn from: 2 Maccabees 12; Apoc 24; 1 Thess 4; 1 Cor 15 (in the 1965 text, not the Sarum missal); and the Gospel of John. For a summary of the actions carried out during a modern Solemn Mass for the dead, see Fortescue and O'Connell, 137-9.

184 granted forgiveness and peace. These three prayers could mention the position held by the individual; there is special language in the Missal to be used if the deceased is a bishop, abbot, priest, a benefactor, a mother/father, a friend of the church, etc., although there seems not to have been much latitude for including text specific to that individual.61 For a commemorative anniversary Mass, the only major alteration to the funeral Mass is that the three changeable prayers could include language specially geared towards the yearly event.62 After the Mass, during Absolution, the rubrics for funerals specify direct involvement with the coffin, which had not been part of the Office or the Mass. The draped coffin, before being taken in procession to the burial plot, is blessed by the celebrant with incense and holy water.63 For anniversaries, Absolution was not required, although if it were to be included, a catafalque or pall could serve as the substitute for the body in its coffin, and candles could be placed around it, just as they were placed around the actual coffin for the funeral.64 Funerals could also be announced publicly, well beyond the intimate setting of the

61 For the texts of these variable prayers in a thirteenth-century Sarum Missal, see Legg, Sarum Missal, 434-42. For an earlier example, see the Leofric sacramentary, Warren, Leofric Missal, 194-6 (with variations for bishops, priests, women, etc.). The Crawford Sarum missal does not leave a place in which the individual's name could be inserted, but the Leofric sacramentary does (“ill.”). 62 See Legg, Sarum Missal, 437-8. In the early tenth century, the same prayers could be used on the day of burial, the third, seventh, and thirtieth day after burial, or the anniversary, but the celebrant was to insert the appropriate wording depending on the occasion (Warren, Leofric Missal, 197-8). The growth of personalized masses, i.e. on behalf of an individual, is discussed by Jungmann, vol. I, p. 104, 212-233. 63 Specific directions are given in Fortescue and O'Connell, 392-3 and Weller, 19-25 regarding who stands where and how the celebrant was to cense and sprinkle the coffin. The celebrant is to be vested in a cope rather than mass vestments. Wieck's publications of illuminations of this scene show the celebrant swinging the censer over the draped coffin. The altar in the background is empty as the mass is finished. The rubrics for these actions are sometimes placed at the beginning of the burial service in medieval texts, before the body is to be removed from the church, e.g. Henderson, 92-4 (York), and 80*-81* (Sarum). 64 Fortescue and O'Connell, 396.

185 choir, through the use of the church's bells and by hiring a bedesman, whose task was to go out in the town and ask the public to pray for the soul of the deceased. The very informative accounts which survive for the funeral of Dean Andrew Kilkenny at Exeter (d.1302) include the cost for bell-ringing in the city.65 The accounts also explicitly reveal that money was set aside for the same activity to be done at the dean's anniversaries. Burgess found, too, that several late medieval testators in Bristol set aside funds for a bell-ringer and/or a bedesman for both the funeral as well as the anniversary. 66 While I have not yet found evidence in thirteenth-century ecclesiastical wills or other documents for setting aside funds for these activities, we know that they were carried out. The latetwelfth-century statutes of Lichfield Cathedral specify that bells should be rung at anniversaries, as do the statutes of Lincoln Cathedral, where it is stated that this falls under the duty of the treasurer.67 Additionally, the twelfth-century chronicle by Jocelin of Brakelond recorded that the bells at the abbey church of Bury St Edmunds were rung on the anniversaries of certain abbots.68 That bells were rung only for certain abbots suggests either that the monastery considered it a privilege to be granted only to certain individuals, or that those abbots had made financial provision for this activity in their bequests. The Office sung at anniversary services for the clergy had minor differences depending on the rank of the deceased. The evidence from Salisbury reveals that different 65 Lepine and Orme, 186. The accounts also show expenses paid for vestments, shoes, and a chalice to be buried with the body, as well as wax for candles for the ceremony. For the full document, see 312-15. 66 Burgess, “Service,” 184, 188-9. He notes, however, that surviving documentation does not indicate at what stage during the anniversary proceedings the bells were to be rung or the bedesman to be sent out. 67 Bradshaw and Wordsworth, Statutes of Lincoln, vol. II, pt 1, 22, under duties of the Treasurer, who was to oversee the ringing of the bells. 68 Jocelin of Brakelond, Chronicle of the Abbey of Bury St Edmunds (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1989), 80. In this particular instance the chapter decided after the fact to honor him with this act.

186 levels of performance were specified for cathedral clergy of various ranks who had died in service at Salisbury, as well as for members of the Sarum clergy who had since gone on to be bishop elsewhere, for bishops at other churches, and also for Salisbury's own bishops.69 Anniversaries for the latter were to be treated as a double feast with some minor variations.70 As an illuminating contrast, if an anniversary were to be celebrated for a king, he was to receive the same service due a minor canon. Obits listed in the margins of a twelfth-century Exeter martyrology indicate, for some of the names, that certain individuals were permitted a solemn service; others a solemn service as for a canon, and still others a solemn service as for a bishop, all of which imply an established hierarchy of celebration.71 The rank of the deceased also affected the rank of those who would carry out the anniversary celebration. The Sarum Use specifies that on the anniversaries of predecessor bishops, the bishop himself is to perform.72 The Dean was also obligated to be present on

69 Rich Jones, RSO, vol. I, 180-5, Section CIV of the Consuetudinary, e.g., lays out specific alterations to be made in anniversary services for the different levels of clergy. The ranks of clergy mentioned include the simple canons, the lesser dignitaries (subdean, succentor, archdeacon), the higher dignitaries (precentor, chancellor, treasurer), then the dean, those who held dignities in the church, but who had gone on to be bishop in another church, then p. 185, for the bishops of other churches. For kings, 'for whom there may be an office', one should celebrate as for a simple canon at the church. See also Henderson, 62*-66*. Crouch, 163, and Colvin, 166-7, also noted the different grades of anniversary celebrations. 70 Rich Jones, RSO, vol. I, 185; Henderson, 65*. See also the dean's responsibilities in Wordsworth and Macleane, 57, which places bishops' anniversaries with other double feasts. 71 Lepine and Orme, 250-58 and discussion pp. 231-33. Usually the solemn service is reserved for cathedral dignitaries, but not all of this rank are listed as receiving a solemn service, and some of lower rank are listed as receiving it. The lack of notation of the solemn service for all dignitaries could be due to inconsistencies in record-keeping; or, perhaps, the difference in level of service may be based on factors other than rank, such as type of bequest to the cathedral. See also the canon's will printed ibid., 139-40, dated 1244, in which he set aside 10 shillings of rent from his house per year for the chapter to celebrate an anniversary for him “in a solemn manner” as was done for the Archdeacon of Totnes. The 10 shillings may be the difference between receiving a canons' typical celebration and one done in a solemn manner as for cathedral dignitaries. 72 Rich Jones, RSO, vol. I, 184-5; Henderson, 65*: “Episcopus vero in anniversariis episcoporum praedecessorum officium exsequitur.”

187 anniversaries of bishops and of other deans.73 In addition, the Dean was tasked with entertaining certain ministers and officers of the cathedral on certain feast days “and on the anniversaries of all the bishops of Salisbury to date.”74 At least some of Salisbury's requirements for high-status anniversaries were adopted elsewhere. The Dean at Lincoln Cathedral had similar responsibilities as his southern counterpart. He, too, was obligated to feed the ministers and officers of the cathedral on anniversaries of bishops, and was expected to celebrate at the anniversary, according to the statutes and customs of that church.75 In the Lichfield Cathedral statutes attributed to Bishop Hugh de Nonant (118898), the Dean of Lichfield was required to celebrate on the anniversaries of bishops and deans.76 The Peterborough obit calendar, which in some instances provides details as who was to carry out what parts of the anniversary service, suggests that even within the same rank (e.g. abbot), the person required to perform the celebrations could vary: only for some abbots does the calendar specify that on the anniversary of that abbot, the current

73 Rich Jones, RSO, vol. I, 4-5, under the duties of the office of dean; Wordsworth and Macleane, 57: “On every double feast, in the Bishop's absence, and on the first Sunday of Advent, and on Palm Sunday, and on Ash-Wednesday, and on the three days before Easter, and on Whitsun Eve, and on anniversaries of Bishops and Deans of the Church, he is bound to perform Divine service [and to celebrate].” Whether his presence was required in addition to or only in the stead of the bishop when he was absent is unclear. 74 Hemingby's Register, HM Chew, ed. (Wiltshire Archaeological and Natural History Society, 1963), no. 313, p. 165-6, and see also no. 316, p. 167-8. The register of chapter clerk John Hemingby at Salisbury Cathedral dates to the fourteenth century, but the use of the phrase “as by ancient custom” shows the tradition to be older. To be fed were the sub-treasurer, the celebrant, the deacon and sub-deacon, the two sacrists, five choristers, and the two assistants of the sacrists. Additionally, on the obits of bishops Osmund and Longespee and two deans, the altarists of the Lady Altar were to be fed at the Dean's table. 75 From the early fourteenth-century Liber Niger at Lincoln (see Bradshaw and Wordsworth, Statutes of Lincoln, vol. I; Wordsworth, “Kalendar,” 3). At Lincoln the dean was obligated to celebrate when the bishop was absent. A complaint recorded against the dean in the 1430s illuminates the duties expected of him at the anniversaries of bishops and kings, per the statutes and customs of the church (Bradshaw and Wordsworth, clxx, Bishop Gray's awards, #33). The Dean was also to have provided a chaplain to pray for the souls of his predecessors and other Christian souls at the missa matutinalis (Bradshaw and Wordsworth, clxiii). 76 Bradshaw and Wordsworth, Statutes of Lincoln, vol. 2, pt. 1, 17. The statutes show signs of having been updated in the thirteenth century.

188 abbot was to celebrate the mass.77 A certain amount of celebration seems to have been automatically due to a member of the religious community on his decease. At Salisbury, the statutes state that each canon, when he died, was due a service of thirty days sung communally, and a trental (30 masses) sung severally by those in priestly orders.78 The rest of the canons each were to sing 20 recitations of the psalter, and also to celebrate the first-year anniversary. A monk at Worcester Cathedral could expect, as a privilege of having been a member of the monastic community, thirty masses sung by a priest, and ten Psalters to be sung by the monks for him after his death.79 At Lincoln, the vicars were to sing every single day a full Office and mass for deceased canons, and on anniversaries, were given special prayers to say.80 But to have the intricate ceremony of the anniversary performed over a substantial number of years was costly and time-consuming. The difficulty with keeping up anniversaries in perpetuity was dealt with by the convent of St Mary and Ethelburga, 77 Wordsworth, “Kalendar.” Usually an argument made from omission is untenable, but in this case, since so many of them do specify, it seems to indicate that the specification was necessary, and that having an abbot celebrate for an abbot was not standard. Some of these entries also give instructions as to what prayers were to be said, who was required to read the lections at Matins/Dirige, and how many they were to read, and that the monks should be dressed in albs. Only the abbots' entries included this amount of detail; the majority of entries are simply a name and a position held. 78 Wordsworth and Macleane, 63, “for a Canon deceased it is decreed that service of thirty days be done in the community, and that each of the presbyters severally should celebrate a trental. That the others, of whatsoever order they be, should sing 20 psalters severally, and that the year's mind (anniversarium) be celebrated by each privately in his own week of duty” (c.1217-28 statutes). See also RSO, vol. i, 20-21, for a slightly different translation; and Henderson, 60*-61*, for a c.1506 Sarum manual. 79 So says a letter dated 1309 outlining the details of a former Worcester bishop's clerk's commemoration at the cathedral (Wilson, The Worcester Liber Albus, no. 435, letter written in 1309). The letter grants a man who had served as clerk under Bishop Giffard privileges of entering into the Worcester fraternity in return for “kindness to our monastery.” On his death, a priest-monk will celebrate a trental (thirty masses) for him and the rest of the monks shall sing ten psalters, “as for one of our brother monks when he goes the way of all flesh.” His name was to be inscribed in the martyrology, and mentioned on each anniversary of death. For the extra services, there would be a 10s annual charge to be paid to the convent. 80 See Crouch, 169, on details of an anniversary celebration “as for a monk” at Reading.

189 Barking, by ceasing commemoration of abbesses who had been deceased for more than 100 years.81 The Salisbury Consuetudinary clearly states that perpetual anniversary services at Salisbury were limited to those whose names were entered into the obit calendar.82 Even so, by the fourteenth century, Salisbury was celebrating 40-50 anniversaries per year, and at St Paul's the number was as high as 111 obits.83 Over 130 citizens of Hereford made contributions to their cathedral church in order to be included in the obit book in the twelfth and thirteenth centuries.84 At Exeter, in 1305, 58 obits were being celebrated in the cathedral.85 To ensure a lasting celebration, funding had to be procured. The Lincoln canons, for example, were due a perpetual anniversary celebration, but funding for this was to come from the fruits of their prebends gathered in the year of their death.86 A canon's will from Exeter dating to c.1244 bequeathed annual rent from his house to the chapter, 10 shillings of which each year was to pay for his exequies.87 Even bishops could not expect an anniversary to be celebrated as a matter of course, as a result of their having led the community. While some bishops may have been granted an annual celebration in perpetuity in return for favors done for the church and its community, it is certain that at least by the mid-twelfth century, bishops were setting 81 This, from Dugdale's Monasticon, vol. I, 442, printed in Bradshaw and Wordsworth, pt. II, vol. I, ccxxxiii. The authors note that many of the earliest obits at Lincoln also were not always kept up. 82 Section civ, 184-85; see also Henderson, 65*. Curiously, Bishop Richard Poore, who was instrumental in relocating the church to its new site, is not mentioned in either of the two known Salisbury obit calendars. However, his anniversary is listed in Hemingby's register, 165-68, as being celebrated, and amounts to be given on that day are specified in an episcopal act (see n. 99 below). 83 Edwards, VCH Wiltshire, vol. 3 (1953), 175, citing the communar's account rolls at Salisbury. For St Paul's, Edwards, Secular Cathedrals, 46-7. 84 Swanson and Lepine, “The Later Middle Ages, 1268-1535,” Hereford Cathedral: A History, 71. 85 Lepine, 60. Of those, 55 had been established in the thirteenth century. 86 Bradshaw and Wordsworth, Statutes of Lincoln, vol. 2, pt. 1, 140, 146 and 148-9. This was noted in the statutes of 1214, 1236 and 1309. The service was to be sung by the vicars. Surely this funding would not have been enough to finance a perpetual obit? 87 Lepine and Orme, 139-40. These were to be carried out in “a solemn manner” like those for the Archdeacon of Totnes.

190 aside funding intended specifically to pay for these services. The arrangements usually entailed the granting of rents or other income from a certain property, or granting a property or church directly to the institution. In the latter instance, the institution was directed to retain annually a portion of the income from that property for the administration of the service. The anniversaries of bishops undoubtedly added to the existing duties of the clergy, but they could often involve substantial gain for the chapter in additional profits from the endowment. Although a full study of anniversary expenses versus income generated by the gifts granted by bishops is unfeasible here, Burgess found, using surviving churchwardens' accounts from the late medieval period, that the larger gifts of land or perpetual rents often resulted in more annual income than the sum necessary to support the anniversary.88 As Burgess pointed out, the spiritual gain for the deceased derived not solely from the additional prayers which the gift supported, but also from the donation to the institution of any additional income. The majority of surviving documentation for episcopal anniversaries is financial in nature. Extant records date from the second half of the twelfth century, and gain in frequency in the early thirteenth. An early Salisbury charter preserved in the Register of St. Osmund dates to between 1155 and 1165, and records Bishop Jocelin's grant of the church of Alwelton to the communa (common fund) of the cathedral, to fund prayers for Jocelin's soul on his anniversary.89 A portion of the funding was also designated for the brothers at Ivychurch monastery, who would perform similar perpetual celebration for 88 Burgess, “Service”, 199-206. 89 Rich Jones, RSO, vol. I, 219-20; ibid., vol. II, lix; EEA 18, Salisbury, no. 125, dated between 1155-65. Additionally, a commons was to be given daily for a priest to celebrate in the cathedral for the bishop's soul for ever. In c.1160, the chapter released an ordinance regarding the services to be rendered on Jocelin's obit that repeats the original grant (Rich Jones, RSO, vol. I, 228).

191 Jocelin's soul.90 A note of a dispute between the monks at Rochester and their bishop, Walter (d.1182), was settled in part by the bishop increasing his obit payments to the convent and his donations to the poor.91 Preserved from around 1186 is a document related to the celebration of Bishop Gilbert Foliot's anniversary at St Paul's Cathedral, for which he granted to the Dean and Chapter the church of St Nicholas.92 In the arrangements made in 1198 by Richard of Ely, bishop of St Paul's, five marks annually were to come from the church of Broxbourne for the celebration of his obit.93 The will of Bishop Eustace of Fauconberg (dated between 1221 and 1228) gave certain lands and appurtenances to the cathedral of St Paul, from which five marks each year were designated to cover the arrangements for his annual commemoration.94 At Lichfield Cathedral, Bishop Geoffrey Muschamp in the years before his death in 1208 granted tenements to the Dean and Chapter, who were to exact from the property 20 shillings annually to pay for the observance of the bishop's obit with reverence and in perpetuity.95

90 Ibid.: “Reliqua vero dabitur fratribus de Monasterio Oderoso semper, qiu consimile servitium facere tenentur pro anima nostra in perpetuum.” Bishop Jocelin of Salisbury also supervised the constitution of four canons to the church of Heytesbury, a cathedral prebend. The duties for which these canons were accountable include a weekly mass for the bishop and convent and benefactors, and to take part in the obsequies of other canons (EEA 18, Salisbury, no. 120). For an overview of the known prebends and their property and incomes see Edwards, VCH Wiltshire, 158-61. 91 A quarrel with his monks resulted in an appeal to Rome, and the agreement entailed the bishop increasing his donations to the poor and his obit payments to the convent, among other things (DNB). 92 EEA 15, London, no. 162, 98-99. The full text is not published. 93 EEA 26, London, no. 37, 36-7. Other stipulations were that four marks annually would go to the Hospitallers of St John (who granted the church to the bishop in 1190), and that until the next bishop were to take his seat, the remainder of the income would go towards the making and repair of the windows of St Paul's. Future bishops were to continue to observe the stipulations regarding the Hospitallers and the obit, but not the windows. See also the confirmation by Bishop William St MereEglise of the same in ibid., no. 165, p. 146-7, dated 1213x17. Bishop Richard also founded two priests to serve at two altars in St Paul's: one was to celebrate for the current bishop and the faithful of the diocese, while the other for the souls of kings, bishops, and the faithful dead. 94 EEA 26, London, no. 252, 216-7. A complete copy of the will does not survive, and here the editors give a summary as gleaned from another chapter document. 5 were to be distributed at his obit, 5 to support a perpetual chaplain, who perhaps had to oversee the obit as part of his duties. 95 EEA 17, Coventry/Lichfield, 90-1. The editors suggest that this was done late in his episcopate, between

192 Eustace, Bishop of Ely (d.1215), set aside two and a half marks each year for his anniversary.96 At Chichester, in the early thirteenth century, Bishop Ranulf (d.1222) gave to the chapter a windmill in Bishopstone as well as other tenements, the profits from which were to support his anniversary.97 The cost of these anniversaries consisted primarily of payments to the clergy who were present, and of alms to the poor, since generosity numbered high among the good works thought to aid the progress of one's soul. Some of these documents outlined explicitly the payments to be distributed and to whom. On Bishop Jocelin's anniversary at Salisbury, one hundred paupers were to be given bread and beer and meat or fish, in perpetuity.98 A similar dole was given out at Salisbury on Bishop Richard Poore's anniversary (d.1237, as bishop of Durham). Among his acta was a grant to the canons' common fund, in return for which the dean and chapter conceded/granted that on the bishop's anniversary, the dignitaries, canons, and vicars of the cathedral will have the pittances given out as on feast days, and will feed one hundred poor people.99 Bishops Roger (d.1139) and Osmund (d.1099) were to be honored at Salisbury with a dole of five

96 97 98 99

1198 and 1208. Also, they note that a list of lands pertaining to his obit is found in LJRO ms D30/XXV, 1. The chapter signed the properties over to John the Chamberlain, in return for 24 shillings, 4 to be paid annually to the chapter, and twenty to be reserved for the bishop's obit. See Kettle and Johnson, VCH Staffordshire, vol. iii (1970), 140-66, for a summary of the financial activities of bishops and other personnel at Lichfield. Bentham, citing Harley 258. EEA 22, Chichester 1215-53, xxx and 19: “ad anniversarium nostrum singulis annis.” Rich Jones, RSO, vol. I, 219-20; vol. II, lix; EEA 18, Salisbury, no. 125, dated between 1155-65. EEA 19, Salisbury, p. 341-2. The act is dated between 1220 and 1227. This seems to be the only reference to the anniversary of Richard Poore at Salisbury, besides its mention in the fourteenth century in Hemingby's register (see n. 82 above). The grant was of the church of Melksham and the chapel of Erlestoke, saving funds for a perpetual vicarage. That he was not listed in the surviving obit calendar is particularly odd, given that it is primarily a document recording the doles, pittances, etc, to be given out on obit and feast days.

193 shillings' worth of bread.100 The five marks designated by Bishop Richard of St Paul's in 1198 for his anniversary celebrations were to be divided as follows: two were to be distributed among the canons and clerks who observed his obsequies, and the remaining three to be distributed among the poor.101 The 20 shillings earmarked annually to pay for the anniversary of Bishop Muschamp at Lichfield were to be divided between the clergy who would carry out his obsequies (one mark per year) and the poor (half a mark for bread).102 The anniversary of Hereford's Bishop Giles de Braose (d.1215) also involved distributions for his soul.103 The donation of the church of Baysham by Bishop Ralph de Maidstone of Hereford (d.1245/6) provided money to those who celebrated his anniversary.104 Bishop Aquablanca at Hereford gave the chapter land in the manor of Holme Lacy in 1256 to provide obit distributions from himself, his kinsmen, and a friend.105 Burgess suggests that alms had an effect not only because of generosity, but also because they would incite the recipients to prayer on behalf of the donor. Indeed, he points out that alms were not concerted efforts to alleviate poverty, but were often spread thinly across a large number of recipients, thus increasing the potential number of prayers—and, significantly, prayers of the poor, who were seen as more spiritually pure

100 From the Salisbury obit calendar, Wordsworth and Macleane, 14. 101 EEA 26, London, no. 37, 36-7. Other stipulations were that four marks annually would go to the

Hospitallers of St John (who granted the church to the bishop in 1190), and that until the next bishop were to take his seat, the remainder of the income would go towards the making and repair of the windows of St Paul's. Future bishops were to continue to observe the stipulations regarding the Hospitallers and the obit, but not the windows. See also the confirmation by Bishop William St MereEglise of the same in ibid., no. 165, 146-7, dated 1213x17. 102 EEA 17, Lichfield, no. 106, and Kettle and Johnson, VCH Staffordshire, 149. 103 In Hereford's statutes, printed in Bradshaw and Wordsworth, Statutes of Lincoln, vol. II, pt. 1, 56. The statutes were collected in 1280, though in the margin on this page is the date 13 Nov 1216, possibly the date of the anniversary arrangement. 104 In the Hereford Cathedral statutes, Bradshaw and Wordsworth, Statutes of Lincoln, 74. 105 Barrow, 45.

194 than the rich—in relation to the number of recipients.106 Burgess's study shows that more money was spent on alms in late medieval Bristol than on any other aspect of the ceremony.107 In addition to these transactions being preserved among the appropriate episcopal acta, the cathedral chapters devised accounting systems to keep track of the income and expenditures for the various anniversaries. Several English obit calendars are of interest in this regard because of their overwhelmingly practical nature. At Salisbury, each obit listed includes the name of the person for whom the anniversary was to be celebrated, the source of the funding for the obit, and monetary figures representing the gifts to canons, vicars and the poor.108 As an example, the entry for Bishop Robert Bingham (d.1246) tells us simply under his November date of death, “de Communa. canonico vi d; vicario iii d per Priorem de Merton.”109 The document is thus as much a financial one as a liturgical one, with a focus very much on the special allowances given to clergy on certain notable occasions.110 Similar documents with emphases on anniversary finances

106 “Service,” 190. 107 “Service,” 189. Lepine, 67-8, also considers the cost and benefits of almsgiving at Exeter. 108 The mid-fifteenth century calendar in Salisbury Ms E, printed in Wordsworth and Macleane, 3-14. The

obit calendar at Salisbury does include some indication of feast days, but is not a full martyrology or liturgical calendar. Rather, it specifies what is to given out on what days, for example, Epiphany is a “festum principale duplex, ix lectiones, duplex communa cum vino et dies sequele.” 109 Ibid., 13. Entries for other bishops include: Osmund (Dec), “de communa, v s in pane”; Roger (Dec), “fiet de communa, v s in pane”; Nicholas Longespee (May), “canonico, xii d.; vicario, vi d. de xx marcis per abbatem de Milton”; Henry Braundeston (Feb), “de xvi s de domibus ... ; canonico iiii d; vicario ii d. residuum calebrantibus”; Wyle, Herbert Poore, and William of York (all Jan), de communa, and each gives money to canons and vicars. Curiously, some bishops' entries do not mention any funding, e.g. Walter Scammel (d. Sept. 1286) and Jocelin (d. 1184). 110 This focus is also made clear by the few indications of feast days (not all are listed) in which the canons would receive special portions of food or wine from the commons. Canons' and dignitaries' financials were also included. Dean Hertford's anniversary, for example, is noted in February as “per abbatissam Wilton. Canonico iii d; vicario i d. Residuum fratribus.” This is a shorthand version of what was specified by him in 1256 (Rich Jones, RSO, vol. I, 392-3).

195 rather than on the deceased are known at Hereford, at Lincoln, and at St Paul’s.111 The most extensive of these entries (usually for bishops, as for example the entry for Bishop Henry de Wengham, d.1262 of St Paul's) include different levels of payment for major canons, minor canons, clerks of the choir, chaplains and secondaries, almsboys (pueris elemosinae), and paupers. The need for an accounting system at St Paul's was declared as early as the late twelfth century, when Dean Ralph de Diceto mandated that once a month the rents from obits, together with other internal cathedral accounts, should be entered in the roll of the treasury.112 Some record of payments dispensed for anniversaries survive in Lincoln Cathedral's Re and Ve rolls, which “contain, week by week, a list of those obits which were observed at Lincoln and on which allowances under the head of 'wines' or money or 'double feasts' were paid through the Clerk of Re et Ve to such canons, and sometimes to such Vicars-choral, as had been duly marked as present according to the statutable rules of the Communa, or the requirements laid down in the endowmentordinances of the several obits.”113 At Exeter, accounts survive from the fourteenth and fifteenth centuries which document each expenditure on obit days, and note the number and names of the canons present who received the benefits.114 Personnel were assigned to keep track of the financial receipts and distributions 111 Hereford's fourteenth-century liber obitum (Rawlinson, appendix, pp. 1-31); the so-called Martilogium

of Lincoln, recorded by John de Schalby in the 1330s (Bradshaw and Wordsworth, Statutes of Lincoln, ccxliii); the fourteenth-century obit calendar at St Paul's (Simpson, Documents, 62-73 for the calendar, 74-105 for list of obits and payments, 194-202 for the editor's notes on the people commemorated, in alphabetical list. As noted p. xxxiv, the documents come from the Statuta Majora of St Paul's, in the time of Richard II (1377-99), with some later additions.) Hereford's often lists the gifts the deceased gave to the church; the distributions for the obit day are often listed among them. 112 VCH London, vol. I (1909), 423. No date listed, but he became dean 1180 and died c.1202. 113 Bradshaw and Wordsworth, Statutes of Lincoln, vol. I, pt. 2, ccxlviii. The authors note, p. ccxlix, that these rolls show a considerable amount of flexibility as to when the obits were celebrated, so as to not interfere with the major feasts. These survive in fragmentary form only. He prints some in Appendix I. 114 Lepine and Orme, 273-311 and discussion 241-44. These date 1305-7. See also Lepine for a fuller discussion of the financial records at Exeter, from records spanning 1305-1467.

196 generated by anniversary arrangements. In Bishop Pattishall's statutes for Lichfield Cathedral, “the keepers of the martiloge were ordered to record the attendances of the vicars at obits so that the money could go to those who had fulfilled their duty.”115 At Salisbury, in the fourteenth century, the communar was responsible for the anniversary finances, and at Hereford and Wells, a cathedral officer was assigned the duty of collecting and recording the obit payments.116 As the evidence from the episcopal acta shows, these financial arrangements were important enough to have been made during the bishop's lifetime, rather than being left until the final moments before death or up to the executors of the bishop's estate. Few wills survive from this time period, but the Sugwas will of Bishop Aquablanca at Hereford, dated 1268, serves as a useful example of this point. He did not bequeath much to the church of Hereford, and nothing in the will references his future commemoration, although it does specify that at the funeral, the canons present should receive ten shillings each, and four pounds was to be divided among the other clerks and chaplains. However, the codicil to the will states that if anything of the estate is left over after the terms of the will are met, the remaining money should be used for pious uses and for “augmenting the provision he had already made for keeping his anniversary in Hereford Cathedral.”117 The anniversary, thus, had already been provided for before the will had been drawn up. This extensive and advanced preparation was not confined to bishops, and lesser dignitaries and canons in the cathedrals can be found making similar arrangements. At St 115 Kettle and Johnson, VCH Staffordshire, 149. 116 For Salisbury, Edwards, VCH Wiltshire, 175. For Hereford, Swanson and Lepine, 71: “Names in the

obit calendar ... were coordinated by a cathedral officer whose job was to collect and keep track of the obits, but no accounts survive.” For the escheator at Wells, Edwards, Secular Cathedrals, 241. 117 Woodruff, xi, and the codicil, 7-8.

197 Paul's, a bequest by Canon Ralph, dated 1162, provided for an anniversary service.118 Ralph de Diceto, Dean of St Paul's, granted his houses and chapel in the cathedral precinct around 1180 to the office of the dean, and at the same time made provision for a pittance to be given out on his anniversary.119 Also at St Paul's, Canon Richard of Stortford assigned a house in the churchyard to his successors in the prebend of Harlesden in 1196; his successors were then to distribute one mark per year among those in the chapter who would take part in the performance of Richard's anniversary.120 Another prebendary, Master Alard, made a similar arrangement in the late 1190s, so that the houses he built in the churchyard would transfer to future occupants of his prebend, and in return they would pay the Dean and Chapter one mark of silver on his anniversary to be distributed to the clerks and canons who would celebrate his obsequies.121 Bishop Eustace of Fauconberg ensured that one mark derived from the rent of the houses which formerly belonged to the Treasurer, Peter of St Mere-Eglise, would be distributed at Peter's annual remembrance, some to the clerks, some to the canons, and some to the cathedral's fabric account.122 Anniversaries could also be carried out for those who had once been affiliated with the church but had since moved on. For example, Lincoln accounts show that money was given out at Lincoln on the anniversary of Richard, 118 VCH London, 424. 119 EEA 15, London, no. 160, 97-8, during Gilbert of Foliot's bishopric. The establishment of the pittance

only survives in one manuscript copy of this act, which is not published in full here. See also EEA 26, London, no. 31, 31-2, where the grant is confirmed by Bishop Richard of Ely around 1190, and in which document the anniversary pittance is valued at 10s. Edwards, VCH Wiltshire, 169, noted that the custom of giving houses to future tenants of the office in exchange for observation of the anniversary was also done at Salisbury: “A favourite device of canons wishing to found an obit was to leave their canonical houses in the close to the dean and chapter, on condition that they assigned them to future residentiary canons who were to pay a small obit rent for the annual services.” 120 EEA 26, London, no. 34, 34. 121 EEA 26, London, no. 39, 38-9. 122 EEA 26, London, no. 231, 201-2. 4s 6d was for the canons; 4s 5d to the clerks; and the same amount to the fabric fund. This is dated 1225x28.

198 Bishop of London, who had been Dean of Lincoln, but who died as Bishop of London in 1198.123

Private celebrations of Mass: the chantries Remembrance of an individual within the canon of the daily high Mass was not always guaranteed, even for bishops, and the anniversary, as elaborate as it was, only occurred once a year. These strategies seem not to have provided enough security for those in fear for the fate of their soul. Crouch discussed a number of different types of arrangements that were made to secure additional prayers for the deceased, in particular by the laity in England, even before the Norman conquest.124 Members of the higher clergy might have felt that their positions as leaders of religious communities would provide insurance against neglect by their religious community. But in the twelfth and thirteenth centuries, leading churchmen across Europe also took advantage of other ways to enhance their commemoration. Abbot Suger, a well-known figure then as now, serves as an example of diversification of commemorative strategies. In 1137, long before his death, Suger's extreme concern for the fate of his soul led him to institute extensive and explicit provisions for ongoing commemoration. As Clark Maines described, Suger saw the day of his future burial as a day of terror, calamity, and misery. In his Testament, Suger established prayers, a weekly Mass for the dead, and an anniversary Mass in all [itals Maines] of the dependencies of Saint-Denis. At the abbey itself Suger provided that a daily Mass of the Holy Spirit be said for his soul beginning immediately. This Mass is to continue throughout his lifetime and requiem aeternam after his death. On the anniversary of his death, the Masses are to be increased in number and supplemented by the display of Suger’s liturgical vessels, by special 123 Bradshaw and Wordsworth, Statutes of Lincoln, ccl, in the Re and Ve rolls 124 Crouch, 162ff.

199 distributions for the brothers, and by the gift of alms to the poor.125

The establishment of anniversaries at multiple places, of weekly masses on behalf of the general population of the dead, as well as of daily masses for his own soul at his own abbey, is a powerful testament to his insecurity and fear of punishment after death, as well as to his faith in the salvific power of commemorative services. Of all these activities, the requiem Mass, said specifically on behalf of the deceased individual, was perceived by many as having the greatest effectiveness as a palliative for the soul suffering in Purgatory.126 As early as the eighth century, leaders of religious institutions and other important individuals were requesting masses not only from his/her local institution, but also from affiliated institutions. Jungmann wrote, At the Synod of Attigny (762) the attending bishops and abbots bound themselves to say, among other things, a hundred Masses for each of the group who would die. A cooperative agreement entered into in 800 between St Gall and Reichenau stipulated, inter alia, that for each deceased monk every priest was to say three Masses on three successive days after the report of the death was received, and also another Mass on the thirtieth day; at the beginning of each month, after the Office for the dead of the convent, each priest was again to read a Mass; and finally every year on November 14 a general commemoration of the dead was to be held, again with three Masses by each priest.127 As Muschiol explains, “the celebration of Mass [was compared] with the reading of the psalms according to a strict exchange rate. For example, the shorter duration of a Mass 125 Clark Maines, “Good Works, Social Ties, and the Hope for Salvation: Abbot Suger and St-Denis,”

Abbot Suger and Saint-Denis: A Symposium, Paula Gerson, ed. (New York: Metropolitan Museum of Art, 1986), 79. Maines does not mention where or how Suger was buried, unfortunately. 126 As noted in Burgess, “Strategies,” although alms, prayer, and benefaction continued to be popular choices. See Henry Lea, A History of Auricular Confession and Indulgences in the Latin Church (Philadelphia, 1896), vol. III, 323-6, on Mass as the preferred method of prayer (personalized or otherwise), from an early date. But he noted, p. 326-7, that the name alone in a general Mass came to be seen as less effective than Masses said specifically on behalf of the living or dead. 127 Jungmann, vol. I, 218-9; and cited in Ariès, 160.

200 compared with the length of a complete prayed or sung psalter—that is, all 150 psalms— increasingly led to the prayer of psalms being replaced as a memorial offering by the Mass.”128 The content of the mass, which invokes the body of Christ, offered more direct contact with the divine than did the psalms. The perceived efficacy of the Mass is not only demonstrated by the growth of personalized masses, but also is found in popular stories, preserved by chroniclers, which demonstrate supernatural approval of the practice. In the first half of the eleventh century, Raoul Glaber wrote of a hermit who told a monk from Cluny that he had learned by divine revelation that God was pleased by the number of Masses for the dead that were said at Cluny and how profitable they were to the souls of the dead.129 Roger of Wendover reported a story about Bishop Bartholomew of Exeter, who heard lamentations from the churchyard one night in 1162. The bishop later discovered that a local layperson who had financed a priest to say daily mass for the souls whose bodies were buried in the churchyard had just died, and he interpreted the wailing as that of the souls, “in their sorrow for the man who had benefited them by his alms and masses.”130 The volume of Masses requested for individual souls, as the practice proliferated through Europe, resulted in commemoration on an immeasurable scale.131 In the middle

128 Gisela Muschiol, “Time and Space: Liturgy and Rite in Female Monasteries of the Middle Ages,”

Crown and Veil: Female Monasticism from the Fifth to the Fifteenth Centuries, eds. Hamburger and Marti (New York: Columbia University Press, 2008), 195. 129 Cited in Ariès, 159. 130 Roger of Wendover, Flowers of History, transl. JA Giles (London, 1849), vol. 1, 533-4. This story not only shows the comfort that prayers can provide (or perhaps, vice versa, the discomfort that lack of prayers could provide) but also that souls were thought to be active, audible, and capable of feeling and expressing emotion. 131 Ariès, 158-9, talks about the proliferation of Masses (with mementos) during the ninth to the eleventh century. Colvin, 168-70, discussed the proliferation of Masses in monastic institutions, with special reference to Cluny. This had a resulting effect on the building in that more altars were also needed, as

201 of the twelfth century, Peter the Venerable, Abbot of Cluny, famously declared that the dead would drive out the living. The Cistercian order agreed in 1225 to restrict the number of personal Masses to one each year for each soul. By 1270, they had ceased all individual Masses and replaced them with twelve general services.132 Cook calculated that “as early as the middle of the 13th century the monks of Durham Cathedral priory were under the obligation of celebrating more than 7,000 soul-masses every year.”133 The heavy demand for Masses resulted in part in an expansion of the physical centers of commemoration beyond the confines of the monastery, where only a certain percentage of the population were priests, to involve the priests in secular churches of all types. Even these, however, became overburdened with the number of private masses expected of them.134 The directions for the liturgy itself changed over time either to accommodate or to make possible (depending on which came first) the growing number of private masses commissioned to aid an individual. The rubrics of early missals showed that a Mass required the involvement of the entire chapter, but Jungmann noticed a general shift in the twelfth century towards a more streamlined liturgy which could be carried out by one priest rather than requiring the involvement of many.135 At the same time, over the twelfth and thirteenth centuries, canon law usually limited priests to celebrating one Mass per day. One solution to the difficulty of procuring regular Masses for one's own purpose was to finance personally a priest who would take on this role, in other words, to endow a well as more ordained priests. 132 Daniell, 179. 133 Cook, 80. 134 Lea, vol. III, 327, note 3, cited instances of churches trying to limit the number of masses. 135 Jungmann, vol. 1, 104.

202 chantry. Conceptually speaking, since the individual was already providing funding to support an annual ceremony, an additional endowment for a privately supported priest to say regular Masses for the individual was not a difficult next step to take. Chantries, or cantaria, are generally defined, in Wood-Legh's words, as the hire of a private chaplain to perform “daily or weekly masses [as opposed to the yearly anniversary] and other services for a private intention, usually the repose of the souls of particular individuals.”136 The chantry has been well-studied by Wood-Legh, Kreider, Burgess, Colvin, Crouch, and others.137 Colvin's study saw the appearance of chantries as a result of a growing population and a growing awareness of Purgatory, which therefore produced greater need for intercession. The result was an overburdening of monasteries with requests for prayer, and a need for a new system in order to cope. Colvin believed that the earliest chantries in England were founded in the early thirteenth century, mostly at cathedrals.138 Wood-Legh, Edwards, and Crouch, however, each suggested that chantries, or similar institutions that might be considered precursors, existed earlier.

136 Wood-Legh, 2. She noted that the term cantaria originally meant any service performed by a private

chaplain, not necessarily services performed on behalf of individuals for the good of the soul, although this would become its main purpose and was the accepted meaning from the mid-fourteenth century. 137 See my introduction, n. 10. Wood-Legh is the standard reference for the legal history of the institution, looking at the types of foundations drawn up, how they were endowed and maintained, the duties of the clergy who were tied to the institution, etc. She made use of the extensive documentation surviving in later wills and foundation deeds, from the fourteenth century forwards, with only a few references to the thirteenth century. She also concentrated primarily on chantries in parish churches, with very little on episcopal chantries. However, it is clear that oversight of chantries was kept by the episcopal figures, no matter where the chantry was based. Kreider was interested in discovering how popular chantry institutions were at the dissolution. He concluded that the sixteenth-century repeal of the foundations must have had a profound impact on late medieval spiritual life. Burgess, “Strategies for Eternity,” departs from the better-known foundations of the very wealthy to investigate the actions of a broader slice of the population, the commercial classes, of the fifteenth century. This essay focuses on the logistics of founding, maintaining, and ensuring the survival of a chantry. Colvin and Crouch both deal with the early development of the institution. 138 Colvin, 165 and n.7. The early ones he noted were based at the cathedrals of Chichester, Exeter, Lincoln and St Paul's.

203 Wood-Legh stated that the earliest English chantries dated to the twelfth century, citing as the earliest the provision for four priests at Marwell, Hants, whose living was endowed by Bishop Henry of Blois (d.1171).139 Kathleen Edwards saw the glimmers of the English chantry institution in the foundation by Archbishop Roger de Pont l’Eveque at York in the late 1170s, when he endowed the chapel of St Mary and the Holy Angels (or St Sepulchre’s Chapel) so that “divine service may be celebrated for ever to the honour and glory of God, and for the remission of the sins of us [i.e. the archbishop] and our successors.”140 In contrast to Colvin's idea that chantries evolved from the inadequacies of monastery-based intercession, Crouch's study emphasized the patronage of the AngloNorman laity who arranged for prayer in a number of different ways in the twelfth century, some using monastic clergy and other using secular, and some masses celebrated communally (e.g. in monasteries or collegiate churches) and others privately (e.g. supporting an individual within a community to say prayers, or a single priest in a smaller chapel or parish church). In these he sees the early stages of chantry development. Given the patchy nature of surviving evidence, it is difficult to argue that the clergy led the way in devising new tactics for multiple regular Masses, but it is certainly true that they were condoning the process early in the twelfth century, as in the case of Abbot Suger. Crouch's work emphasizes the primacy of lay foundations, but he also notes 139 Wood-Legh, 4. The four priests formed a collegiate chapel “to pray for the souls of the bishops of

Winchester and kings of England and all the faithful of Christ.” See EEA 8, Winchester, no. 80; EEA 9, Winchester, 24–7, 174. 140 Cited in Edwards, English Secular Cathedrals, 303. On p. 292 she noted that chantries were developing in the late twelfth century. While the word chantry was not used to describe this college in the documents, and the specific services to be said in order to lessen the suffering of the archbishop and his successors was not laid out, nor the frequency of the prayers specified, the creation of a space dedicated to celebrating office for such a purpose, endowed with funds to continue said purpose, could be the closest arrangement to the chantry seen by that date. For the relevant documents, see The Historians of the Church of York and its Archbishops, ed. J. Raine (3 vols, Rolls Series, London, 1894), iii, 75–7.

204 that secular collegiate foundations, an important precursor to the chantries, were being created by bishops in the twelfth century. These were the foundations of Archbishop Roger de Pont l'Eveque, as Edwards had noted previously, and Henry of Blois, Bishop of Winchester, as noted by Wood-Legh.141 Both foundations stipulated prayer for the souls of the founders and other bishops of the cathedral. Other approaches in the twelfth century could not technically be called chantries—i.e. the provision of a steady income to support a priest—but still provided funds for Masses or other services which would benefit the founder. Bishop Jocelin at Salisbury, for example, arranged for an extra commons to be distributed daily to a priest who would remember him in a solemn Mass.142 In 1198, Richard of Ely, Bishop of St Paul's, earmarked a portion of annual income from the church of Cheshunt to fund two priests at St Paul's to celebrate masses at the altars of St Thomas and St Denis, which had been provided for and consecrated by him.143 One was to say mass daily for the health of the king, bishop, and the faithful of the diocese, while the other was to say a mass daily for the souls of the kings, of all the bishops of London, all the faithful of the diocese, and all the faithful dead. While the bishop was not directly named as a beneficiary of these two masses, he would have been included in them as a member of the general category of all the bishops of London. Dugdale found what he considered an early chantry established at St Paul's early in the reign of Henry II, which supported one priest to celebrate divine service for the soul of 141 Crouch, 174, says of the York foundation, “In this foundation, the communal saying of offices and mass

(as in the nearby minster) is specified and gives an extremely good example of how a twelfth-century patron could visualise a collegiate secular foundation as a machine for intercession quite as formidable as a regular community, and in no way less popular despite the explosion of monastic foundations since the beginning of the century.” For Henry of Blois, see n.139. For York, see n.140. 142 Rich Jones, RSO, vol. I, 219-20; vol. II, p. lix; EEA 18, Salisbury, no. 125, dated between 1155-65. 143 EEA 26, London, no. 36, 35-6. The full text of the act is not printed.

205 master John de London and for the souls of all the faithful deceased.144 Crouch has suggested that the earliest chantries, established in the form that would become standard in the later Middle Ages, dated to the 1180s and arose from royal patronage. Chantries at two altars were founded in Rouen Cathedral for the soul of Henry II, and at Lichfield Cathedral in England, John, Count of Mortain (later King John), gave a parish church to the chapter of Lichfield in 1192 on the condition that the chapter would appoint a priest-prebendary to say a daily mass for the health of his soul, and, after his death, for its salvation.145 Bishops could be founders of chantries for important lay people. In 1206, Bishop Geoffrey Muschamp of Lichfield granted funding for a daily mass to be said for the souls of the King and members of the royal family, and the masses arranged for by Bishop Henry of Blois (d.1171) at Winchester also included the kings as beneficiaries.146 By the early thirteenth century, arrangements for personal chantry Masses made by the higher clergy appear quite frequently in England in the surviving documentation. At Lincoln, a letter dated 1221 outlines the ordination of cantaria established by Bishop Hugh de Welles at Lincoln, which included a daily Office for the dead (including vespers, matins, commendation for the soul), and a Mass, for the bishop and for the souls

144 Dugdale, St Paul's, 27 (Henry II r. 1154-1189). The next at St Paul's was set up by Bishop Richard

Fitznigel (1189-99), who, having built two altars in the cathedral, one to St Thomas the martyr, the other to St Denis, assigned 8 marks rent yearly from one church for the maintenance of two priests to celebrate every day. Whether these celebrations were for the bishop's soul or not is unclear. 145 Crouch, 177-8. See also Kettle and Johnson, VCH Staffordshire, 146 and EEA 16, Lichfield, 37, where the entry mentions the allowance of three priests to sing daily mass at Bakewell and the singing by one priest of a daily mass at Lichfield Cathedral, probably for Count (later King) John. 146 EEA 17, Lichfield, 96-7, for Muschamp. The funding came from the resources of the see of Coventry (i.e. the bishop's funds), and the grant was made as thanks for the continued munificence of the king to the cathedral church. For de Blois, see my n.139.

206 of various other beneficiaries.147 As did Abbot Suger, Bishop Hugh de Welles planned well in advance; he did not die until 1235. Of the ten marks set aside annually to cover the expenses of Bishop Eustace de Fauconberg's (d.1228) commemoration at St Paul's, five were to fund a living for a perpetual chaplain to say mass for his soul, and the rest were to be distributed on the bishop's anniversary between the canons and clerks of the choir.148 By 1222, Salisbury Cathedral had two chaplains dedicated to saying daily Masses for the souls of all the departed bishops of that church; for this service, they each received 50 shillings per year, or just under four marks.149 The number of foundations at cathedrals grew over the course of the thirteenth century. At Salisbury, nine or ten chantries were founded in the late twelfth and thirteenth centuries, only one of which was an important lay foundation. To these chantries were added another 14 in the fourteenth century.150 At Lichfield Cathedral, during the

147 Bradshaw and Wordsworth, Statutes of Lincoln, lxv-vi, recorded in the Registrum Antiquissimum of

Lincoln. The foundation was for three chaplains, a priest, a deacon and subdeacon. In addition, they were to pray for the souls of the king and other patrons of the church, his predecessors, mother and father, and friends and benefactors, and all those of the church and the faithful dead; also the canons, brothers and sisters of the church of Lincoln, and the faithful dead. He died in 1235. It is listed in the great Chantry Register at Lincoln and was celebrated at the altar of St Hugh. 148 EEA 26, London, no. 252, 216-7. A complete copy of the will does not survive, and the editors give a summary as gleaned from another document belonging to the chapter. The editors do not specify how regular these masses were to be, however, but the amount suggests a daily mass. See also Dugdale, 27, who noted that Geoffrey de Lucie, Dean of St Paul's in Henry III's time, set up a chantry for his soul and for that of Eustace de Fauconberg and his successors, also for Philip de Fauconberg, Archdeacon of Huntingdon. “Which Eustace de Fauconberg, by his last Will and Testament, gave to those Canons certain Lands... reserving five Marks per An. to be yearly paid, for the Maintenance of a Priest, perpetually to celebrate Divine Service for his Soul, near to his Tomb in the Cathedral.” 149 Wordsworth and Macleane, 77, dated 1222: “the two priests who celebrate for Bishops departed, are to have their appointment for the year, and that each of them is to receive 50 shillings for his yearly service....” Edwards, VCH Wiltshire, 168, stated that these two annually-appointed priests were to celebrate daily masses for the souls of departed bishops, although the 1222 document does not specify the frequency of celebration required. 150 Edwards, VCH Wiltshire, 168-9, 175. See a list in Wordsworth, Ceremonies, 185-6. The lay foundation was for Earl of Cornwall.

207 thirteenth century at least 13 chantries were set up.151 Exeter Cathedral had 14 chantries by 1332, only two of which were for lay figures.152 These numbers at Salisbury, Lichfield and Exeter are quite small compared to the much more numerous foundations at St Paul's, which could boast over 70 chantries by the late fourteenth century.153 By the midthirteenth century, chantry establishments by bishops seem to have become the norm. I cite a few examples here. Archbishop de Gray had a chantry at York in the south transept, founded 1241, years before his death in 1255.154 The first known chantry at Ely was that established by Bishop Hugh de Northwold (d.1254), who conferred upon the cathedral several manors for the purpose, and built and endowed a house within the precinct for the chantry priests.155 His successor, William de Kilkenny (d.1256), left to Ely in his will 200 marks to found a perpetual chantry serviced by two chaplains.156 In 1254, Bishop Walter de Suffield appropriated the church of Mendlesham to the dean and canons of Chichester, from which 12 marks were intended to provide a priest to say mass for his predecessor, Bishop Richard de la Wych (d.1253), at the tomb and to keep two candles burning there continuously.157 The college founded by Giles de Bridport (d.1262), bishop of Salisbury

151 Kettle and Johnson, VCH Staffordshire, 149. Not all of the chantries are listed here, but most are

ecclesiastical, with the exception of two chantries for the souls of kings of England. 152 Lepine and Orme, 239-40. 153 Edwards, Secular Cathedrals, 294. Kreider proposed that London may have had an unusually large

number because of its freedom from the License of Mortmain. 154 Register of Walter de Gray, Archbishop of York, 1225-55, J Raine, ed. (Durham, Surtees Society, 1872),

190-1. As early as 1230 he had noted his intention to found a chantry, ibid., 47-58. 155 Cook, 87, and DNB: “Some time before 1248 he had bought the manors of Totteridge, Hertfordshire,

and Bramford, Suffolk, to endow prayers for his soul, and he also built and endowed a chantry house (‘the chantry on the green’) for the priests who were to celebrate for his own soul, and for the souls of his family and of members of the monastic community.” 156 Bentham, 133-6. He also “gave to the priory of Barnwell 200 Marks, for founding two Divinity Exhibitions at Cambridge.” 157 This is a note by the editors in EEA 23, Chichester, 214, at the end of the agreement mentioning candles at Chichester at the shrine and the high altar. The frequency of the masses or a description of other duties is not noted in the document, but 12 marks was a relatively high amount. The difference in the

208 Cathedral, supported a chaplain to pray daily for the bishop at the altar of St Mary Magdalene, in the cathedral.158 As with anniversaries, funding came from endowments of lands, gifts of cash with which to buy land, or rents or other income. In the case of cathedrals, the bishop usually granted the endowment to the chapter, which was then responsible for appointing and overseeing the chaplain, and, possibly, for managing the productivity of the financial assets.159 Chantries seem to have necessitated an income of five to ten marks per year, although maintaining this level of income over time proved a challenge.160 The reckoning of Henry VIII's commissioners when the cathedral chantries were being dissolved shows that, despite original intentions for their survival in perpetuity, a foundation's success relied on the productivity of the land and its good management, and income often fluctuated. At Salisbury, only one thirteenth-century chantry, that of Bishop Giles de Bridport, survived into Henry VIII's reign.161 A private chantry did not obviate the need for annual obit celebrations; indeed, it simply added to them, and one can find financial stipulation for both types of commemorations in the surviving records. In the final year of his episcopate, Bishop John Climping (d.1262) granted 50 shillings per year from the church of Rustington to the cost may have been due to the stipulation about candles. 158 Fletcher, “Bishop Giles,” 632-3. Fletcher did not provide the date of foundation given, just “before his

death.” Roberts, “Bridport,” 577, n.62, cited a ruling in 1280, BL Add Ms 28870, fol. 60, that the college was to support three chaplains, “celebrating daily in different places for his soul.” Roberts suggested one of these must have been at the altar adjacent to the bishop’s tomb. When the chantry was dissolved, its value was five marks, paid annually by the College. 159 See Wood-Legh, chapter 2, on the different types of foundations possible. Who was responsible for the productivity of the land, whether the chapter or the chaplain himself, is rarely made clear. Gifts to the cathedral chapter seem to have been entered into the common fund. On funding chantries, albeit taken from examples later in date, also see Burgess, “Strategies.” 160 Edwards, VCH Wiltshire, 169, wrote that most of the arrangements at Salisbury were for 5-10 marks a year. For cash gifts, 200 or 220 marks were considered enough to pay for chantry. 161 Jones, Fasti, 303; Fletcher, “Bishop Giles,” 633.

209 Dean and Chapter of Chichester cathedral for his anniversary.162 In what appears to be a separate arrangement, his will provided for twelve marks annually to be paid to the Dean and Chapter to support two chaplains to perform masses for his soul at the cathedral altar of Sts Katherine, Margaret and Agatha.163 At Lincoln, Bishop Henry Lexington (d.1258) founded a chantry of two chaplains; his obit was later ordered by his successor, Bishop Gravesend, and the chapter.164 Bishop Bronescombe of Exeter provided an anniversary for himself, his predecessors and successors, and his parents, at the chapel of St Gabriel in 1278, and two years later, founded a chantry in the same place.165 The proliferation of anniversaries and chantries necessitated a growth in numbers of ordained personnel, not just because of the increase in number of services, but also because some foundations provided for more than one priest. As Wood-Legh discussed, chaplains could be appointed for life, or were appointed annually from among the vicarschoral or as a stipendiary priest. They could live together in communal housing, such as Bishop Northwold's house for priests, or live independently. When funding for the anniversary and chantry were combined, it is possible that the chaplain of the chantry was also responsible for celebrating, or overseeing celebration of, the anniversary.166 At first at Lichfield Cathedral, the duties of chantries were assigned to the canons' vicars, 162 EEA 23, Chichester 1254-1305, 167. 163 EEA 23, Chichester 1254-1305, no. 229, 203. Only a notice of his will survives. 164 Bradshaw and Wordsworth, Statutes of Lincoln, clxix, which mentions that both arrangements were

recorded in Lincoln's chantry book. There was a complaint by the canons against the Dean regarding the payments to be made for/from the obit during Bishop Gray's episcopate, #17. 165 Oliver, Lives of the Bishops of Exeter, 43-6, with excerpts from the Bishop's register. The chantry was ordained on 20 July 1280, and the bishop buried nearby (Cat. 9). 166 Burgess, “Service,” 185-6, comes to a similar conclusion, but this makes sense in his area of study as the only personnel involved in most parish church anniversaries would be the chantry chaplain (if there was one), the vicar, and the churchwardens who oversaw the record-keeping and accounts, among other things. If the anniversary were for high-status person, many other people would be enjoined to participate, and the bishop or dean (or his designate) to officiate.

210 although a separate body of chaplains devoted to chantry duties began to emerge by the end of the thirteenth century.167 Some canons or vicars had chantry responsibilities permanently attached to their positions. The chantry for Bishop Pattishull, founded in 1254, was bound to the position of subchanter; chantries established by two Lichfield canons were bound to the sacrist and the vicar of the Archdeacon of Chester.168 At Salisbury, Edwards noted that existing vicars were often assigned chantry duties.169 Some bequests were especially generous to the vicars-choral: Treasurer Robert de Kareville's bequest (d.1267) called for half a penny per day to be given to each vicar, plus half a mark apiece at his funeral, and designated 20 marks to endow them with a property. They were expected to sing a daily mass for his soul in return.170 By 1319, Salisbury issued a statute against vicars-choral serving at perpetual chantries in the cathedral, although Edwards counted that in 1390, there seemed to have been only seven chantry chaplains who were not vicars choral, and Jones noted that in the fifteenth century, there were complaints that many chantries were still served by the vicars rather than by chantry priests.171 The 1319 statutes stated that perpetual chantries should be conferred on persons who “have no other source of sustenance, and who will personally and continuously fulfil [sic] the duty of such Chantries” unless the founder had specified

167 Kettle and Johnson, VCH Staffordshire, 149. 168 Ibid., 149. They also note that prebendaries of Dernford and Ufton, though probably held by their

vicars, had responsibility for two chantries of the souls of kings of England, at the altar of St John. 169 Edwards, VCH Wiltshire, 169. 170 Wordsworth and Macleane, 320-1. His will is printed in Sarum Charters, 1891, 343-5. See also

Edwards, VCH Wiltshire, 168: he left the vicars 100 marks in his will to purchase a rent from which each vicar could receive 1 d per day in perpetuity. 171 On the reforming statutes begun under Ghent and finalized under Mortival, see Edwards, VCH Wiltshire, 172-73. On the 1390 count, see ibid., 175. On the complaints at Bishop Beauchamp's visitations in the fifteenth century, see Jones, Fasti, 301-3.

211 something different.172 The great numbers of foundations at St Paul's must have swelled the cathedral's ranks considerably. By 1318, a piece of land in the churchyard had been set aside for the lodgings of chantry priests, which by the end of the century seems to have coalesced into an informal corporate body of priests, who were responsible for attending and assisting at the daily rites in the cathedral in addition to their chantry duties, as indeed they would have been at other cathedrals and in parish churches.173 In fact, Burgess suggested that great spiritual benefit would have resulted from the foundation of a perpetual chantry not just because of the masses said by the priest, but because that priest could then aid in the larger celebrations at the host church.174 This is explicitly stated in the chantry foundation of Dean Andrew Kilkenny in 1305 which was to “increase by lawful means the sustenance and stipends of the aforesaid ministers and to augment the divine cult in our abovementioned cathedral church.”175 Kreider's study of late medieval chantries demonstrates that even in the years leading up to their dissolution, significant numbers of priests were still employed in these foundations.176 Such proliferation of personnel of course led to the need for the chapter to 172 Wordsworth and Macleane, 258-9. There is a subsequent statute that says that as the vicars are to

observe all the night vigils, before the Mass of the Virgin, other stipendiary priests shall from the Mass celebrated at the dawn of the day (the morrow-mass) continue to celebrate continuously down to the Mass of the blessed Virgin, so that they do not leave the church in between, but also that the masses should not overlap each other. 173 VCH London, 422, 426. Sometimes these additional obligations are written in the chantry charter. 174 “Strategies for Eternity,” 3, where he also refers the reader to his own “'By Quick and by Dead,'” and “'For the Increase of Divine Service.'” 175 Lepine and Orme, 312-15 for the chantry ordinance, and 171-202 on the executors' accounts for his estate. On p. 136, the editors state that the chantry priest was “to benefit the cathedral by increasing the number of its clergy and religious services.” 176 Kreider, English Chantries, chapter 1. His first chapter looks specifically at various aspects of the early sixteenth-century personnel, including different types of foundation, payment situations (beneficed or stipendiary), how they compared to vicars and rectors in terms of pay and amount of work (i.e. who was serving, and in what capacity). He also considers demographics, age, income (and the realities of contemporary economics), standing, eduction, career trajectories, and behavior (including pluralism and residency).

212 maintain control over their administration of chantries and the manner of their celebration. Lincoln kept a careful register of chantry endowments and regulations begun c.1330, and augmented over time.177 At Salisbury, statutes written by Bishop Mortival in 1319 mandated that new obsequies could only be introduced by vicars with the consent of the whole chapter, and that the vicars celebrating obsequies should do so with decorum and not impede the canons in their daily activities.178 Edwards notes the existence among the cathedral records in the early fourteenth century of a number of documents regarding the correction of the behavior of vicars-choral and chantry chaplains.179 By 1362, Archbishop Islip mandated limits for the pay of chantry priests.180 Proliferation of Masses meant that commemoration took place at the cathedral's subsidiary altars as well as at the high altar and in the chapter house.181 In addition to private Masses, general Masses and other services for the dead were offered regularly in cathedrals.182 The number of services to be accommodated often meant that any one altar

177 Bradshaw and Wordsworth, Statutes of Lincoln, ccli, cclxi-cclxix. The book is in Lincoln muniments

A.1.8, “Liber de Ordinationibus Cantariarum,” c.1330. 178 Dayman and Rich Jones, Statutes, 1883, 71, and translated in Wordsworth and Macleane, 253-5. These

refer to anniversaries rather than masses, but the need for control over personnel is still clear. Also, at the beating the bell of vespers, “which is bound to be said before the obsequies themselves, let the Sacrists give diligence to be there so much earlier before the accustomed time, according as the Choir of the Church will need longer time for performing in due manner the offices incumbent on them.” The vicars are also admonished to be present at the Mass of the Virgin, etc, and not to shirk their duties at other required masses. 179 Edwards, VCH Wiltshire, 173. She noted, however, p. 174, that despite Mortival's strictness regarding the behavior and status of the vicars, he granted that the residue of his estate be made to generate profits from which to pay them ½ d per day. 180 Cook, 49. 181 At Lichfield, the thirteenth-century chantries were all, with the exception of Bishop Roger Weseham's chantry which was established in the nearby chapel of Stowe, centered on the subsidiary altars around the high altar (Kettle and Johnson, 149, e.g: Canon Hugh de Sotesby at the altar of St Radegund, founded in 1242; Canon Reynold de Cleydon, a few years later, at the altar of St Katharine; Bishop Pattishall, founded in 1254 at the altar of St Stephen; Dean Mancetter, founded 1254 at the altar of St Peter; Peter of Radnor, est. 1277 at the altar of the BVM.) At Salisbury, too, the thirteenth-century chantries had specific altars, although at least one of those was probably assigned rather than chosen. 182 At Salisbury, there was a weekly Mass which honored deceased benefactors. This was, at least in the

213 could have multiple Masses assigned to it.183 The logistics of employing chantry chaplains, canons, or vicars to celebrate so many services on different days and in different places within the church proved challenging, and led to the drawing up of tables detailing who was to sing what, where, when, and for whom. Wordsworth noted that such tables were used at Salisbury as early as 1319, and their use continued through the fourteenth and fifteenth centuries, “to make an order as to the assignment of chantry masses of constant weekly occurrence, which were sometimes called “missae currentes”.” They specified “by what name chaplains were to say mass, at what altar, for whose souls’ repose, and directing [ed] the precise order of succession in which each was bound to celebrate, beginning after the “morrow mass,” which was at an early hour when it was light, and the last (or last but one) ending before the high mass, usually about 11 o’clock.”184 Edwards added that “if one chaplain did not begin his mass immediately [sic] the preceding chaplain had finished, he was cited before the chapter for neglect of

fifteenth century, carried out at the altar of blessed Mary, which either means the high altar or that in the lady chapel: see Wordsworth, Ceremonies, 279, where he implied it was celebrated at the high altar, but also p. 284, where he queries whether it might have been in the Lady Chapel. The regulations of Bishop Peter des Roches of 1227 for the collegiate chapel at Marwell state that it was then the custom of the Sarum rite for the canons to say their private Masses in the morning after the communal celebration of the mass for all faithful departed: see EEA 9, Winchester, ed. N. Vincent (British Academy, London, 1994), 24-7. At Chichester in 1248, there was an agreement providing for a chaplain to say Masses for the dead at the altar of St Cross and St Augustine in the cathedral (inspeximus of an agreement, printed in EEA 23, Chichester, 108-10). The inspeximus does not specify whom the prayers were meant to benefit, so it was perhaps a general Mass for the dead. 183 At Lichfield, as one example, the charter founding the chantry for Peter of Radnor, which was established in 1277 at the altar of the Virgin, specified that masses there were not to interfere with the daily mass of the Virgin celebrated each morning (Kettle and Johnson, VCH Staffordshire, 148, n.9). 184 Wordsworth, Ceremonies, 198 and 224-8 for the transcripts of four of these tables, dating 1348, 1435, 1468, 1473. They show no more than 13 chantries at one time. The recognition of the need for such tables at Salisbury is written in Bishop Mortival's statutes of 1319, ch. 43 (Wordsworth and Macleane, 258-261; Bradshaw and Wordsworth, Statutes of Lincoln, cclii). The priests were to celebrate “continue et successive” from the mass “quae ex more in aurora diei celebratur usque ad missam beatae Virginis.” The arrangement was to be determined each year in October by the president of the chapter.

214 duty.”185 Similar tables, read out during chapter, were in use at Hereford in the late thirteenth century.186 At Lichfield, by the fifteenth century, the chantry priests were to have use of the cathedral's altars between six and ten a.m., after the Morrow Mass (said at five a.m.).187 Tables of missae currentes are also known at Lincoln from the early sixteenth century.188

Strategies for commemoration beyond the cathedral The above strategies—names spoken during the canon of the Mass, celebration of anniversaries, and endowment of chantries—demonstrate the considerable commemorative activities that took place daily in the cathedral. In addition, bishops frequently reached out beyond their own cathedral church to outside institutions to aid in the care of their souls. The technique of eliciting prayer by sending notices out to sister institutions, practiced in England at least since the tenth century, remained in use by leading members of the clergy into the late medieval period.189 These notices, or mortuary rolls, often took the form of a short biography of the deceased and a request for prayers. These were carried around to other institutions, where a tituli would be inscribed to commit that institution to praying for the deceased. How often these prayers took place, and in what form, is a question for further research.190 Bishops in England seem to

185 Edwards, VCH Wiltshire, 175. 186 Bradshaw and Wordsworth, Statutes of Lincoln, 81, in the statutes of Hereford compiled c.1280. 187 Ibid., 33, in the statutes added by Bishop William Heyworth, 1420-47. 188 E.g., the list of 1506-7, Bradshaw and Wordsworth, Statutes of Lincoln, cclxiii-xv. It gives the specific

times as well as who and where. 189 As laid out in the Regularis Concordia, Symonds, ed., (New York, 1953), chapter XII, 64-8, or chapter

XIV, 141-6. Cited in Keynes, Liber Vitae, 56. 190 For example, were the prayers only offered once, or on multiple occasions? Were the names inscribed

in the institutions' liber vitae or calendar? Did the names get added to the obit lists for ongoing

215 have taken part in this practice from at least the early eleventh century. As Simon Keynes explained, a text which appears to have originated at a gathering of higher ecclesiastics in the early 11th century suggests that the bishops collectively were conscious again of the need to pray for each other as a matter of daily routine, and that in the event of a bishop's death all other bishops would be expected to say the appropriate prayers and to perform the appropriate charitable acts; it is apparent, furthermore, that copies of this document were distributed to abbots and abbesses throughout the land, and that communities of religious houses were enjoined in this way to pray for their episcopal colleagues.191

In addition to the numerous mortuary rolls known for leaders of monastic communities,192 a number of written announcements for bishops survive from the thirteenth century and beyond. When Canterbury Archbishop John Pecham died towards the end of the thirteenth century, the chapter announced his death in a letter to his suffragan bishops in the archdiocese. In this, they requested that “prayers and masses should be offered and indulgences granted for the benefit of the soul of the dead archbishop.”193 A mortuary roll for Bishop Robert de Insula (d.1283) of Durham was sent around to other institutions in the thirteenth century. The extant mortuary rolls for Bishop commemoration? J Raine, ed., The Obituary Roll of William Ebchester and John Burnby, priors of Durham, Publications of the Surtees Society vol. xxxi (Durham, 1856), xix, noted that at Durham, there is no specific evidence for how this was carried out in the later middle ages, as only early obit calendars appear to have survived. Also, he noted the fact that Durham's tituli, like others, recognized a burden of reciprocity in the stock phrase “vestris nostra damus, pro nostris vestra rogamus.” 191 Keynes, Liber Vitae, 56. 192 Early monastic rolls with tituli mentioned in Keynes, Liber Vitae, 62-3, include those for Matilda abbess at Caen, and for Vitalis, abbot of Savigny, both early twelfth-century; a pre-1214 roll for Amphelisa, prioress of Higham, which had tituli for over 370 houses; a surviving fragment of roll for Ralph, abbot of Thorney (d. 1216); roll for Lucy de Vere, prioress of Castle Hedingham, Essex (d. c.1230); fragment of roll for William, abbot of Thorney (d. 1293). Raine, Obituary Roll, noted a number of extant rolls for priors of Durham, including Priors Ralph Kernech (d.1234), Thomas Melsonby (d.1244), John Hemyngburgh (d.1416), John Wessyngton (d.1451), William Ebchester (d.1456) and John Burnby (d.1458) (on the same roll), and Robert Ebchester (d.1484). 193 Decima Douie, Archbishop Pecham (Oxford, 1952), 339. The letter is printed in Reg Pontissara, 347-8, dated 23 Jan 1293.

216 Hotham of Ely and for Bishop Hatfield of Durham in the fourteenth century, as well as Bishop Skirlaw in the fifteenth century, show the continuation of the practice throughout the late medieval period.194 The number of licenses issued to roll bearers to carry the rolls for a certain amount of time (usually two years) suggests that the strategy was used by a much greater number of deceased brethren, benefactors, abbots/abbesses, priors/prioresses, and bishops than the surviving rolls suggest.195 The practice of exchanging names was approved by St Boniface, who wrote to Abbé Optat in the thirteenth century that this should be done, “so that a bond of brotherly charity may be established between us, so that a common prayer may be said for the living, and so that prayers and solemn Masses may be celebrated for the dead of this century, when we send one another the names of our dead.”196 While prayers solicited by letter or roll were not accompanied by any financial incentive, English bishops, besides arranging for funding for prayers at their own institution, also paid for anniversaries and masses at other places. This is evident at least from the second half of the twelfth century, when, for example, Bishop Richard Peche (d.1182) of Lichfield Cathedral made a grant in alms of certain lands to Bordesley Abbey (Worcestershire), in return for which the abbot and convent granted the prayers of the

194 Hotham's roll is in the Canterbury Cathedral archives, ChAnt/E/19, and printed by Albert Way,

Cambridge Antiquarian Society, vol i, 1855. For de Insula, Hatfield and Skirlaw, see Raine, Obituary Roll, appendix. 195 Raine, Obituary Roll, xxiii-xxviii. None of these lesser rolls survive at Durham, but the licenses do, from the fourteenth and fifteenth centuries. The licenses do not always say who the deceased was, but the number of them indicates a larger populace than bishops and priors, as noted by Raine, xxvii. These were granted by the church to the roll-bearers as credentials for them to use in their travels (particularly as it seems they were at the mercy of the charity of the receiving institution, not paid by the house where the roll originated). Rolls, or at least announcements, were brought to Durham, and scribes copied the briefs from other houses: Raine, Obituary Roll, appendix X-XVI and note on pp. xix-xx. 196 Cited in Ariès, 160. He also cited Gabriel le Bras writing on this community of the dead.

217 whole Cistercian order, and that two of their own would pray in perpetuity for the bishop.197 Lichfield's Bishop Hugh de Nonant (d.1198) made arrangements with Darley Abbey, in Derbyshire, for the celebration of his anniversary in the same manner as for their abbots, and financed it by handing over to them the church of Bolsover.198 The monks at Welbeck Abbey, Nottinghamshire, celebrated a yearly service for the same bishop, as for an abbot, in return for a grant to the abbot and convent for the church of Duckmanton (Derbyshire).199 Bishop Hugh de Puiset of Durham (d.1195) was granted confraternity in return for confirmation of a grant in free alms of churches in Bamburgh to the priory of Nostell; his anniversary, as well as those of his successors, was to be celebrated by the priory in the manner of their own priors.200 Bishop Richard Poore of Salisbury was promised by the monks of Malmesbury Abbey commemoration on his anniversary with full pontifical service in return for his gift in 1222 of the chapel of Norton to be used for their infirmary.201 Richard Poore was also the object of an annual mass set up in 1227 by William of Merton, Salisbury's Archdeacon of Berkshire. The

197 EEA 16, Coventry/Lichfield, 5-6. is dated between 1160 and 1182, although the editors tentatively

suggest a date after Sept 1167, the death of Matilda. The document begins by saying the bishop does this for the souls of Henry I, Empress Mathilda, and the health of Henry II and his heirs, as well as the bishop and his predecessors and successors. In a sense, the bishop's own salvation is tucked away among the other names, but when the document specifies the prayers to be said, only the bishop is mentioned as the beneficiary. The idea of granting alms to save the soul is a major theme in Wenzel, Fasciculus Morum, in the section devoted to the deadly sin of avarice. 198 EEA 17, Coventry/Lichfield, 21, dated by the editors between 1189-1198. “For us and our successors” (i.e. bishops), “sollempniter celebrabit sicut anniversarium proprii abbatis.” That this is to be done as for an abbot is further evidence for variation in ceremonies depending on rank of the deceased, as discussed above. 199 EEA 17, Coventry/Lichfield, 54-5, dated 1189-98. 200 EEA 24, Durham, 96-7. Strangely, it seems he got this privilege simply for confirming the grant, although the donation of the churches came from Kings Henry I and Henry II. 201 EEA 19, Salisbury, 300-2, saving funds to maintain a perpetual vicar, so that they can commemorate the bishop's anniversary with a full pontifical service. Richard Poore, who had been bishop of Chichester, Salisbury, then Durham, died at a small nunnery in Dorset, to which he had contributed a great deal and where, it appears, he was buried.

218 archdeacon arranged for two additional priests in perpetuity at Faringdon church, one to celebrate the mass of the Virgin, and the other to celebrate a mass of the dead annually on the anniversaries of the archdeacon and of Bishop Richard Poore.202 This ordinance is extremely specific in stipulating which prayers were to be said, for what reason and in what order. The mass of the dead, when celebrated, was to have a separate prayers (in hierarchical order) for the Bishop and Archdeacon, for the soul of the archdeacon alone, for the souls of all the canons and vicars at Salisbury and the church of Faringdon, for those resting in the cemetery of Faringdon, for all of the dead of the parish of Faringdon, and for all the benefactors, predecessors, successors, parents, friends, etc. At Boxgrove, in return for 110 marks given to the priory of Boxgrove by Thomas, Dean of Chichester, the brethren agreed to celebrate the dean's anniversary in the priory church and to fund a chaplain who was to pray for the dead daily at the altar of the Virgin in the cathedral.203 Newly founded institutions also provided perfect opportunities to exact prayers. The brothers and sisters of the hospital for lepers at Sherburn, set up [probably] by Hugh le Puiset in Durham in the late 1180s, were required to say 160 pater nosters per day, of which 25 were for his/her own sins, and the same amount for the soul of the bishop of

202 EEA 19, Salisbury, 254-6. Each of the two additional chaplains were to be paid 50 shillings/year out of

the oblations and income of that church. All four would daily celebrate the canonical hours and the mass of the day. This ordinance is more detailed than most, specifying the garments that were to be worn as well as the form of services of the four priests. Bishop Richard Poore, along with his successor and predecessor bishops of Salisbury, were also to benefit from daily masses said by three chaplains at a chantry set up by Henry Foliot, Knight, at Chiltern Foliat church (EEA 19, Salisbury, 243-4). The three chaplains would celebrate three daily Masses: the Mass of the day, a Mass of the Virgin, and a Mass for the souls of the bishops, of Henry Foliot and his predecessors and successors, and of all the faithful dead. 203 EEA 22, Chichester, 47-9, dated between 1229 and 1244. This money must have been intended for a purchase of land. From the eight marks estimated annual income, five marks per annum were to go to the chaplain, one to the dean and chapter of Chichester, and the remainder would support celebration of the anniversary at Boxgrove.

219 Durham and for all the faithful dead.204 Gateshead hospital, established by (or augmented by?) Bishop Nicholas Farnham (Durham) in 1249, allowed for four priests in the hospital's chapel, one of whom was to perform daily prayers for the soul of the bishop and of all the faithful departed, including Mass, commendations, placebo and dirige.205 Bishop Giles de Bridport founded the Domus Vallis Scholarium at Salisbury, a residential college which was to provide for a warden, two chaplains, and 20 poor scholars.206 The scholars were to pray annually for his soul on his anniversary in the local parish church of Bridport and the college maintained the bishop's anniversary in the cathedral.207 Bishop Walter de Wyle made a similar foundation in Salisbury for St Edmund's College.208 Another strategy to emerge in the thirteenth century for leading members of the church hierarchy was the issuing of indulgences, which encouraged the faithful to offer prayer for the deceased in exchange for a certain amount of remission of penance for 204 EEA 24, Durham, 180-85, for the Sherburn hospital statutes. See also the acta signed by Hugh which

founded the organization, p.121-4. 205 EEA 29, Durham, no. 15, p. 13-15, and see also no. 16, p. 15-16, and no. 17, p. 16-18. The act itself is

done for the health (salute) of the soul of the bishop and his predecessors and successors, and the prayers, said by the fourth chaplain, are to be dedicated to the same: p. 14, “Defunctorum quatuor misse cotidie celebrentur, cum commendatione, placebo et dirige.” 206 The deed of ordinance, or foundation, is printed in Jones and Macray, Sarum Charters, 334 and in Wordsworth, St Nicholas Hospital Charters, and in English in Wordsworth and Macleane, 94-5. See also ibid., p. 87, on the Hospital of St Nicholas de Vaux, set up by Bishop Bingham, which was associated with Bridport's later college foundation. The chantry was founded before his death in 1262: Edwards, VCH Wiltshire, 169; Fletcher, “de Vaux College,” 648. Others augmented the scholars' funds over time. Fletcher, “de Vaux College,” 644 and 646, noted the contributions of Treasurer Robert de Kareville in his will of 1267, of T Boyton in 1490, and of Simon Hutchins, a fellow of the College, in the fifteenth century. 207 Fletcher, “de Vaux,” 643, stated that the de Vaux scholars “were bound” to commemorate their founder annually in his native town, but did not cite his source. There is nothing about prayers for the founder in the surviving foundation charter for the College, but the Salisbury obit calendar recorded that for Bishop Bridport's anniversary celebrations at the cathedral, funding would come “per scolares de valle”, i.e. his collegiate institution, and to the canons went 6d and the vicars 3d (Wordsworth and Macleane, p. 14). Roberts, “Bridport,” 577, n.62, found a ruling in a 1280 document (BL Add Ms 28870, fol. 60) that stated that the college was to support the anniversary in the cathedral. 208 Fletcher, “de Vaux,” 642. The Salisbury obit calendar says nothing about the college being involved in his anniversary celebration, however, just that funding would come 'de communa' and to the canons would go 12 d and to vicars 6 d “pro ecclesia de Sutton” (Wordsworth and Macleane, p. 3).

220 their confessed sins.209 Indulgences usually were employed to raise money for a specified cause, such as encouraging visitation and donations to the fabric of a church, or to a saint's shrine. By the later thirteenth century, they were used to help increase prayer for the souls of the deceased. The evidence from surviving indulgences shows that most of these were not papal indulgences, but instead were issued by bishops for bishops.210 For example, in 1266, bishops at Salisbury and Durham cathedrals granted indulgences for prayers said on behalf of Bishop Henry de Lexington of Lincoln (d.1258).211 The soul of Henry de Braundeston (d.1288), Bishop of Salisbury, stood to benefit from an indulgence granted by the bishop of Worcester in the same year of his death.212 Indulgences could be offered by a number of different bishops from different dioceses for the same person, and could be initiated over a long period of time. At St Paul's, Ralph de Baldock (d.1313), dean then bishop, was the beneficiary of twelve indulgences, and Bishop Roger Niger (d.1241) of eleven, one of which was issued as late as 1269.213 Salisbury's Bishop William de la

209 Lea, vol. III, chapter III outlines the development of different types of indulgences, but see esp. chapter

VI on their use for the dead. 210 Indulgences relating to Salisbury and its diocese are collected in Wordsworth, “Wiltshire Pardons.”

Indulgences for the prayers of deceased individuals ranged in date from 1271 to 1328, and were mostly for those who were buried in the cathedral or who died as a member of the cathedral clergy. An incomplete list of pardons related to Salisbury is to be found in Wordsworth, Ceremonies, 42-3. 211 Bishop Robert Stichill of Durham granted in 1266 an indulgence of 40 days for those going to Lincoln for services, or for those who say the Lord's prayer and Hail Mary three times for the soul of Henry de Lexington bishop of Lincoln, or who give alms (EEA 29, Durham, no. 168, p. 150). Salisbury bishop Walter de la Wyle granted 20 days for those visiting Lincoln and who said three paters and three aves for Henry de Lexington (Wordsworth, “Wiltshire Pardons,” 23). Henry de Lexington had been Treasurer at Salisbury before moving to Lincoln. 212 Wordsworth, “Wiltshire Pardons,” 25. Henry was dean of Sarum before becoming bishop, but the link with Godfrey Giffard, bishop of Worcester, is unclear. 213 W Sparrow Simpson, Documents, 1880, xvi and 6-7. There are also a number of other high clergy who benefited from this procedure. Simpson says of these beneficiaries that “the pilgrims to St Paul's are enjoined to pray for the souls of particular persons,” and thus implies that the effectiveness of the prayer was predicated on the person visiting the church.

221 Corner (d.1291) had indulgences granted for his soul by fourteen bishops over a span of eight years.214 His successor, Bishop Nicholas Longespee (d.1297), also received a great number of pardons on his behalf; references to nine survive, ranging in date from 1297 to 1328.215 Episcopal indulgences were also issued on behalf of the souls of cathedral dignitaries or prebendaries. For the chancellor of Salisbury, Ralph of York, four survive; Peter de Gorumvile, a prebendary at Salisbury who was buried in Blackfriars church, London, was the subject of five known indulgences. At St Paul's, those honored by indulgences in the thirteenth century include a prebendary, a treasurer, two deans, and an archdeacon.216 To a much lesser degree, bishops issued indulgences for the benefit of the laity. For the soul of the first Earl William Longespee buried at Salisbury (d.1225), an unusually large number of indulgences were granted.217 However, these may well be linked to the continued influence of his family in the Salisbury diocese, and especially to

214 Wordsworth, “Wiltshire Pardons,” 25- 28, starting with the Bishop of Meath in 1292 (40 days); in 1293,

the Bishop of Kildare (40 days), Archbishop of Dublin (40 days), Bishop of Rochester (40 days), Bishop of Lincoln (40 days); in 1294, Bishop of Exeter (20 days), Bishop of St Asaph (40 days); Bishop of Hereford (40 days), Bishop of Norwich (40 days), Archbishop of York (40 days); in 1295, Bishop of Bangor (40 days); in 1298, archbishop of Dublin (a different one, 40 days); in 1299, Bishop of Salisbury (40 days); in 1300, Bishop of Leighlin (40 days). 215 Wordsworth, “Wiltshire Pardons,” 27-29. In 1297, by the Bishop of Bath and Wells; in 1300, Bishop of Salisbury; in 1301, Bishop of Worcester; in 1305, the Archbishop of Canterbury; in 1306, the Bishop of Winchester, the bishop of Chichester, the Bishop of London; in 1309, the Bishop of Bangor; in 1328, the Bishop of Salisbury. Each of these was for 40 days. 216 Wordsworth, “Wiltshire Pardons,” 28-29, for Salisbury; Sparrow Simpson, xvi-xvii, 2-7, 175-77, for St Paul's. 217 One granted by Robert Kilwardby in 1270; another by Bishop Giffard of Worcester in 1278; two more in the same year by the Archbishops of Edessa and of Cashel; another in 1279 by Bishop Robert Burnell of Bath and Wells; another in 1285 by Archbishop John Pecham of Canterbury; one in 1289 by Bishop William de la Corner of Salisbury; another in 1291 granted by the Archbishop of Dublin; one in 1294 by the bishop of Rochester; and three in 1295 by bishops of Coventry and Lichfield, Chichester, and Winchester (Wordsworth, “Wiltshire Pardons,” 23-6). The indulgence issued by the bishop of Chichester in 1295 is printed in EEA 23, Chichester, 289. The indulgences varied in the number of days' penance they granted for the prayers, from 15 to 40. On Longespee's burial in the church, in March 1225, see Rich Jones, RSO, vol. II, 48.

222 the fact that his son was bishop at Salisbury from 1291 to 1297. Other lay persons at Salisbury had only one or two indulgences offered for their benefit. Why certain bishops felt compelled to proclaim an indulgence for commemorative prayers for other bishops and dignitaries is not discussed in the literature on commemoration nor on indulgences. The indulgences were offered after the death of the beneficiary, and in some cases could have been the result of an executor's or relative's request. This may be the case with the indulgence issued in 1271 by Bishop Anian II of St Asaph for the soul of Bishop Giles de Bridport and treasurer Simon de Bridport, both of Salisbury.218 Bishop Giles had died in 1262, but his brother Simon died c.1270. Simon may have requested from Anian II an indulgence for himself and his brother before he died. It has been suggested that the episcopal indulgences may have been offered in return for hospitality shown by the beneficiary to the issuer.219 However, some were instituted so long after the individual's death that they could not possibly have formed part of the individual's own arrangements (or those of his executors) to ensure safe passage of the soul, and are unlikely to have reflected a return for hospitality. At Salisbury, for example, an indulgence dated 1271 was issued by Bishop Bitton of Bath and Wells to aid the soul of Bishop Robert Bingham, who died in 1246. A second indulgence was offered in return for prayers for Bingham's soul two years later, in 1273, by Bishop Anian II of St Asaph. Some of the pardons issued for the souls of Bishops de 218 Wordsworth, “Wiltshire Pardons,” 24, the grant was for 13 days, for those who came to the altar of

Mary Magdalene near the tombs to say a pater and ave for the brothers. The connection between Anian II and the Salisbury officials is unknown to me. 219 EEA 22, Chichester, xxxviii, where the editor suggests that indulgences issued by Bishop Richard de la Wych, many of which were for places outside his diocese, could reflect his travels here, and notes that J Barrow, in St David's Episcopal Acta 1085-1280, 17-8, had already suggested that indulgences such as these might have been offered in return for hospitality at these other places. The indulgences issued by de la Wych were for places, not for people, so it is not an exact parallel.

223 la Corner and Nicholas Longespee are also dated long after the bishops' deaths.220 The question of how these decisions were made still stands.

The personalization of commemorative liturgy The foregoing discussion has demonstrated the great lengths to which leading members of the community went to insert themselves into the annual cycle of liturgy and prayer. But inclusion of an individual in commemorative ritual does not necessarily mean that commemoration was personalized or made specific to that individual. Documentation generated in-house, for example, was sparsely peppered with details about the deceased's personality or achievements. Personal reminiscences of character, or even straightforward biographical detail of the individual, were not typically recorded, even in obit lists and calendars, which were directly related to the anniversary celebration and therefore might be expected to contain personal information to be included as part of the ritual. Instead, usually these simply stated the person's name and his position in the church (bishop, abbot, dean, etc) next to the appropriate date. Those obit calendars mentioned above that list financial disbursements planned for the day are sober reminders of the practical side of making space for oneself in the regular round of prayers. While some documents, such as mortuary rolls or cathedral chronicles, sometimes did focus more on personal details, there is no evidence that these were used during commemorative ritual.221

220 Wordsworth, “Wiltshire Pardons,” 24-9. 221 Even the extent to which mortuary rolls were personalized has been questioned. According to James

Raine, the notices were written in a “highly eulogistic and pompous style,” and personal history occurs infrequently (Raine, Obituary Roll, xviii). Pictorial embellishment at the head of the roll shared by

224 On occasion, an individual might receive a certain amount of additional distinction in the cathedral documents. At Lincoln, the scribe of the twelfth-century obit list highlighted the names of two bishops of great importance to the church in red to differentiate them from the others in black ink. Yet even the bishops honored by red ink are barely described. Bishop Remigius was simply referred to as “ecclesie stabilitor” and Alexander as “huius sedis episcopus tercius.” Bishop Robert de Chesney (d.1167) is stated (in black ink) to be of “bone memorie,” a rare entry that indicates an opinion about the worthiness of the individual.222 Some, although not all, of the archbishops of Canterbury are noted as being “of great memory” in the obit calendars, but often this is the extent of personalization.223 A partially surviving necrology from Winchester describes Bishop Henry of Blois (d.1171) as worthy of memory, a venerable father who gave generously to the church. Yet these remarks are placed at the head of one of two inventories in the obit calendar which detail the precious objects he donated to the cathedral. He thus is remembered not by who he was but by what he gave.224 Gifts to the church are sometimes briefly mentioned alongside some names of benefactors, as if to Priors William Ebchester and John Burnby of Durham Cathedral (1446-56 and 1456-68 respectively) shows scenes of death, burial, and judgment. The burial scene depicts a body wearing vestments, with a mitre and crosier. Raine suggested that the images were originally made for a roll commemorating a previous prior, and that it was reused for Ebchester and Burnby. Raine did not suggest that it originally might have been intended for a bishop, but the insignia easily could suit either possibility. Similarly, Charlotte Stanford, “The Body at the Funeral,” discussed the images of two bishops in entries in the Grande Obituaire at the Cathedral of Notre-Dame, Paris, and suggested the possibility that one of these images was simply a copy of the first, and an unfinished work at that; the features of the face, significantly, are blank. If it was acceptable to re-use images such as this, any suggestion of individualization is purely imaginary. Further suggesting this is the full-color painting at the head of Bishop Hotham's mortuary roll (Canterbury Cathedral archives, ChAnt/E/19), which depicts a conventional standing figure of a bishop bearing full ornamenta. 222 The list is given in Bradshaw and Wordsworth, Statutes of Lincoln, ccxxxv-ccxliii. Each name includes that person's position, but usually no more. 223 BL Ms Arundel 68. 224 The lists are found on fols. 46-48 of BL Add Ms 29436, in twelfth-century hand, and printed in Bishop, Liturgica Historica, 392-401.

225 explain why that person should have been included at all in the regular round of prayers.225 The two early-fourteenth-century ecclesiastical figures recorded in the Grand Obituaire of Notre-Dame, Paris, discussed by Stanford, received much more extensive entries than are found in English documents. The entries detailed the individual's benefactions to the cathedral and his financial arrangements for ongoing commemoration, in what reads like a combination of a list of benefactions and a will. Even in these long entries, however, biographical details, and particularly descriptions of the individual's character and personality, are conspicuously absent, as Stanford noted.226 In other words, the focus is on that which is given rather than on the giver. Most documents, however, do not even hint at the bishops' benefactions, let alone other deeds performed by the individual; the personality of the individual who was to be recalled in prayer was of even less interest to the list's compilers.227 Stimulating personal memory of an individual seems far from the intended purpose of these documents. Nor did the liturgy itself allow for extensive personalization. Into the supplication prayer at the end of Vespers for the dead, the individual's name could be inserted and the

225 In Lincoln's calendar, Bradshaw and Wordsworth, Statutes of Lincoln, ccxxxv-ccxliii, a few entries list

land or other type of gift that was given to the church by the person commemorated (although in no way specific enough to be a legal description thereof); such gifts could come from lay or ecclesiastical donors. More of this type of entry is found in the Hereford calendar, Rawlinson, appendix, 1-31. 226 Stanford, “The Body at the Funeral,” 663. The full texts of these long and rather dry lists is printed in her appendix. She stated that though the names were kept in written form, the act of remembering took place through oral recitation, and implies that the entries included in this obit book were read in their entirety at the person's anniversary. This particular book, she points out, was bound with some liturgical texts and was kept in the choir. However, this seems to me unlikely: they were primarily lists of donations, some quite long, and surely they were not read word for word. 227 For example, the lists at Salisbury, St Paul's, and that at Lincoln recorded by John de Schalby in the 1330s (Bradshaw and Wordsworth, Statutes of Lincoln, pt. II, vol. I, ccxliii. Unfortunately the authors did not reprint the financial details, but did mention that the financial records exist). All three focus more on finances than individuals.

226 wording altered slightly to reflect the rank of the individual.228 When blessing the alms to be distributed on behalf of the dead, the person's name was spoken, along with the hope that with this act the individual might merit eternal life.229 The three changeable prayers in the requiem Mass were altered depending on for whom the Mass was to be sung. Yet the only details about the individual to be included were the person's sex, status or social group, and sometimes the person's name.230 The ecclesiastical hierarchy, for example, is differentiated from other beneficiaries of the Mass through stating that the deceased is a bishop, an abbot, a priest, or a brother or sister of the congregation. Besides the name, individualization only extended to position, and specifically his position in relation to the church: a commemorative Mass needed the barest of personal details to invoke the individual's presence so that he could partake of the holiest of the sacraments. The fear of suffering in Purgatory, and the recognition of personal responsibility for one's actions and their consequences, which had to be dealt with on an individual basis either through penance on earth or in the life beyond, did not alter the fundamental message of the Mass: that all, regardless of individual character, actions, or circumstance, were subject to God's mercy and that the promise of redemption was available to all. The name, to commend the soul to God, was sufficient. The Mass was a salve for the soul rather than an earthly memorial.

228 Henderson, 68*; Weller, 53-61. 229 Henderson, 109. 230 For example, see Legg, Sarum Missal, 431-42 and Henderson, 75*-80*, on the Mass for the dead with

variations for the oracio, secretum, and postcommuno depending on the occasion and the rank of the recipient. The missal printed by Legg does not include a space for the individual's name to be inserted, but that printed by Henderson does.

227 The tomb and the ritual If personal presence was not greatly highlighted in the texts of the Office for the dead or the requiem Masses, or in other cathedral documents related to these services, it may have been suggested by the presence of the body itself in the tomb. At a funeral, the body, or at least the coffin, was the physical focus of the prayers, as miniatures in illuminated Books of Hours illustrate.231 In these, the coffin is usually placed at the center of a group of clergy and onlookers in the church. Ritual implements include liturgical books, candles placed around the coffin, and a pall draped over it. The coffin is actively involved during the processions to and from the church, during Absolution, when at the church it is censed and sprinkled by the celebrant as prayers are said around it, and at burial. But what was the relationship, if any, between the burial, its marker, and commemorative prayer? The manual for the Sarum Use often specifies that certain anniversary celebrations, particularly those of the bishops, were to be carried out as if the body were present.232 While in part this instruction serves to maintain hierarchy of status, to elevate the bishops' anniversaries to a more complete level of performance than those celebrated for others, the ritual also implies the presence of the body at its very center. And yet, the commemorative rituals for the dead could and did exist easily without the physical focus of the body. Prayers were carried out wherever the canons or 231 Wieck, “The Death Desired”; ibid., Painted Prayers; ibid., Time Sanctified. The Office was the most-

often illustrated part of the ceremony. The body in the church is always shown encased and covered. There is some question as to whether the Office was actually sung around the body itself, since the written documentation suggests that in a communal celebration for a layperson, the body would be left outside the choir entrance. By the time these late medieval images were made, however, privatization may have made prayers said near the body by a smaller, more intimate group a normal occurrence. 232 For example, the Sarum manual printed by Henderson, 60*-80*, and the ordination for the chantry of Bishop Hugh of Wells at Lincoln Cathedral (Bradshaw and Wordsworth, Statutes of Lincoln, lxv-vi).

228 brethren gathered, notably the choir and/or the chapter house, and Masses were necessarily performed at altars. Obit lists do not include locations of burials, and particular locations for the celebration of an anniversary were not specified by the individual for his annual obit. Nor were private Masses for the dead at first associated with a tomb or burial location. The relationship between tomb and commemorative ritual is well-studied for the later medieval period, particularly the chantry foundations, which often involved the construction of a specific chapel in the cathedral, housing an altar and the individual's tomb, and purpose-built for commemorative prayers to be said within.233 But the chantry chapel is a later, albeit splendid, visual manifestation of a pairing of tomb and commemorative ritual for which evidence is difficult to find much before the twelfth century.234 In early foundation documents for chantries, mention of the tomb is usually not made, and the earliest chantries could be set at any altar in the cathedral, not necessarily one built for the purpose or one near the burial place. As Kettle and Johnson explained for Lichfield, the only physical requirements for a chantry to operate were an endowment “enough to provide a salary for a priest and to buy candles for the altar.”235 The practicalities of organizing commemorative activities on a grand scale in a cathedral meant that logistics, rather than tomb placement, dictated where the prayers were said in the church. The otherwise extremely specific arrangements for Dean

233 Most scholarship on chantries focuses on these later, more visually developed, chantries, e.g. Cook and

more recently Roffey. The latter part of Cook's book deals with the chapels found at individual churches. 234 Canterbury is an exception. Eadmer (writing at Canterbury around the turn of the twelfth century) recognized the salutatory effect of the proximity of the body to the location of commemorative prayers—particularly the Mass— when he recorded that near the burials of Canterbury's Anglo-Saxon archbishops in the north part of the church, “daily, the mystery of the sacrifice of salvation was celebrated” (Willis, 11). 235 Kettle and Johnson, VCH Staffordshire, 149.

229 Hertford's chantry in his ordinance of 1256 omit any mention of a tomb or specific altar at Salisbury Cathedral. It appears that the patron's choice of location for the celebrations was less important than ensuring its existence through adequate funding. The cathedral register, however, noted that the celebrations were to be located at the altar of St Andrew.236 The conclusion perhaps to be drawn, as indeed Wordsworth did draw, is that the chapter was most likely responsible for assigning a place for the rituals to be carried out. From assessing the information on the early chantries at Salisbury, Wordsworth concluded that it was not the custom as yet to build a chantry chapel and set up a new altar in it; but the custom in the 13th century was to give an endowment, and to ask the authorities to assign that the service should be performed in its proper turn: the requisite mass, at some altar already dedicated; and in the evensong and mattins or Dirge of the Dead, in some convenient place.237 Even when a favored altar might be specified by the deceased for his commemoration, the location and the timing of the celebrations would have to be approved by the chapter. Yet some specific evidence for combining the physical location of burial with the physical location of commemoration can be found from the thirteenth century. By the thirteenth century, both types of prayers, the Mass and the Office performed on the anniversary, had begun to center on the physical presence of the tomb. Commemoration through private Masses at subsidiary altars, as was becoming popular among cathedral clergy in the thirteenth century, provided numerous options for burial nearby. In the 236 Reference to his chantry as “ad altare beati Andreae” is found in Rich Jones, RSO, vol. I, 390, 392-3,

where is printed the ordinance. The reference to the specific altar is not prescribed in the text, but in the heading for the register's entry. See also Wordsworth, Ceremonies, 197-8. The location of his burial is not known. 237 Wordsworth, Ceremonies, 198. Cook, 37 and 49, also noted that most chantries were established at existing altars, and that the sheer multiplication of chantries meant that they would not necessarily be linked with burial.

230 1220s, Bishop Eustace de Fauconberg (d.1228) arranged for a tomb in St Paul's Cathedral near an altar, and in his will requested that the Masses for his soul should take place near his tomb.238 At Salisbury, Bishop Giles de Bridport's tomb was constructed adjacent to the altar of St Mary Magdalene, at which a chaplain celebrated for his soul.239 The chantry ordinance for Bishop Henry Lexington of Lincoln (dated 1260) provided for two priests at the altar of John the Baptist, near to which the bishop had been buried when he died in 1258.240 At Exeter, the archdeacon of Totnes founded a chantry, mentioned in his will (1264), at the altar of St Edmund, where he requested burial, “if it pleases my brethren to be buried where I wish.”241 Bronescombe's devotion to St Gabriel is evident in his provision for an annual service in honor of the saint at an altar dedicated to him, followed the next day by an annual service at the same altar for the bishop himself, his predecessor and successors, and his parents. Two years later, he endowed a chantry in that chapel, and his tomb was constructed adjacent to it.242 The presence of the body of Christ at the Mass thus became more than a balm for the soul; it also represented the promise of resurrection of the bodies that lay nearby. There is some evidence that the tomb could serve as an actual physical component of the commemorative ceremonies. There are few early documentary references to

238 EEA 26, London, no. 252. The will does not survive in full, but a summary is printed by the editors.

Five marks per annum were to fund a perpetual chaplain to celebrate mass for his soul near his tomb. 239 His brother, too, was interred in that chapel after his death (Fletcher, “Bishop Giles,” 632). Fletcher,

“De Vaux College,” 641, speculated that Bridport may also have been involved in a leper hospital dedicated to Mary Magdalene in a suburb of his local town, and if so, that this choice of burial place may have been due to personal devotion to the saint. An indulgence dated 1271 mentioned that the tomb was near this altar (Wordsworth, “Wiltshire Pardons,” 19-20). 240 Bradshaw and Wordsworth, Statutes of Lincoln, clxix. The chantry ordinance is recorded in Lincoln's chantry book. 241 Lepine and Orme, 142-3. 242 See n.165.

231 involving the tomb directly during chantry services, but an act of Bishop Walter de Suffield of Chichester in 1254 suggests that by the mid-thirteenth century a chantry priest could be expected to keep two candles burning at a tomb continuously.243 These candles were for the tomb of Bishop Richard de la Wych (d.1253), who later became Chichester's local bishop-saint; however, he was not canonized until 1262 and this attention to his tomb and to the commemorative activities there predated his status as a saint by a number of years.244 A chronicler of Fécamp Abbey, writing in the first third of the thirteenth century, made an explicit link between a sarcophagus constructed near the high altar and the services performed at the altar: “for anyone singing at mass at the great altar, the box will always be directly in front of him. It was arranged in this way so that all would be aware of the prayers offered from them, if they were to have the box continually in their sight.”245 More prevalent are documentary references to the incorporation of the tomb, or an object meant to represent the tomb, into the ritual on the anniversaries of English ecclesiastical figures, and these date as far back as the late twelfth century. This integration of tomb with anniversary ritual is not surprising since the anniversary was in effect a repetition of the funeral, and it implies (or remembers?) the presence of the body in its texts and its accoutrements (hearse, candles, pall, etc.) in a way that the Requiem

243 EEA 23, Chichester, p. 214, editors' note. 244 Once he had been canonized, the chapter agreed that candles were to be kept lit at St Richard's shrine at

all times: EEA 23, Chichester, 212-4, in a document dated 1279. 245 S Jones, “The Twelfth-Century Reliefs from Fécamp: New Evidence for their Dating and Original

Purpose,” JBAA 138 (1985), 82 (Jones's translation). The sarcophagus was a retrospective monument for the first two dukes buried in the abbey, mentioned in a chronicle incorporated into the first third of thirteenth-century poem on the history of the abbey. A much later and more extreme example of including the tomb in the Mass, in Italy, is discussed by G Johnson, “Activating the Effigy.”

232 Mass does not.246 Nor is the relationship of the anniversary ritual to the tomb a new concept: in the Early Christian church, anniversaries of saints and church leaders were celebrated at their tombs.247 At anniversaries, often a hearse or a pall was set out on the floor to represent the coffin, but a 1214 inventory from Salisbury Cathedral suggests that the tomb itself could be covered with a pall. The inventory includes three palls to be used for covering tombs, and a fourth specifically given by Bishop Herbert Poore (d.1217) for the tomb of Bishop Osmund (d.1099).248 While the first three items were probably intended for general use at funerals held in the cathedral, the specificity of the fourth, given expressly for the tomb of Bishop Osmund long after his burial, implies that the tomb was covered at certain times of the year. It seems reasonable to suggest that the bishop's anniversary was one such occasion. An inventory at Exeter recorded a gift by Bishop Blondy (d.1257) of a covering intended for his own tomb. It is possible that he, too, expected it would get used more than just once at his funeral.249 The fourteenth-century statutes at Exeter state also the involvement of a silken pall during anniversaries of bishops, although where exactly

246 Of the options for commemoration, Burgess, “Service,” 191, pointed out that only the anniversary was

intended to recall the deceased in a specific way through recreating the funeral, the moment of passing of that particular individual, whereas Mass was for the soul, not a memorial per se. Burgess does not mention the tomb in his essay, however. The Mass was deliberately less personal, connecting the deceased to the rest of Christian humanity in the hopes that he, and they, will be admitted to the communion of saints. 247 Dix, 371-2, 376. The tombs of Popes in particular were involved in the anniversary service, and Dix noted also on p. 375 that tombs of bishops of Gaul also received special attention. 248 RSO, Rich Jones, vol. II, 129ff for the text of the full inventory, esp. p. 131. The inventory says there were three “pallia ad tres tumbas cooperiendas,” and “item pallium unum quod dedit dns epsicopus H [Herbert] ad tumbam Sancti Osmundi.” See also ibid., xxxvi-vii and cxli. St John Hope, “Sarum,” 122, suggested that the palls probably covered the tombs that were later moved to the new cathedral. 249 Oliver, Lives of Bishops, 39. Blundy had purchased an estate in Lovenetorre and assigned it to his chapter for the maintenance of his obit. He is said to have been buried on the north side of the choir.

233 the pall was placed is unclear.250 From at least the end of the twelfth century, candles were sometimes placed around or even on the tomb, just as they were around or over the coffin at the funeral. The Lichfield statutes from the late twelfth century required that the treasurer find four candles to be lit during the placebo, dirige, and Mass on anniversaries of bishops, deans and canons. This privilege was reserved for those whose burial was located in the church, and the four candles were to be placed around the tomb.251 The statutes of Hereford Cathedral similarly highlight those bishops who were buried in the church by requiring the Treasurer to find two candles on the obit of those said bishops to place before the tomb and to have them be lit throughout the anniversary performance of the Office for the dead.252 At Exeter, the early fourteenth-century statutes state that at the obit celebrations of a bishop, two candles should be lit nearby during the placebo, dirige, and Mass. In the special case of Bishop Robert Warelwast (d.1155), four candles were to be used, and Bishop William Brewer (d.1244) was awarded the privilege of eight candles, perhaps because he was considered a great donor of vestments and ornaments to the cathedral.253 A complaint lodged by the canons of Lincoln Cathedral against their treasurer in 1438 proves that placing candles at bishops' tombs was also the custom at

250 Oliver, 21, citing fol. 112 of an Exeter statute book. Oliver said the pall should be placed over the

“hearse,” in which case it suggests that a stand-in hearse was placed in the choir if the bishop's tomb was not nearby. However, the Latin text is not that clear, and it is possible that it refers to the tomb itself, particularly as the statutes also require candles to be lit near the episcopal tombs on anniversaries. 251 Bradshaw and Wordsworth, Statutes of Lincoln, vol. II, pt. 1, 19. 252 Ibid., vol. II, pt. 1, 68. 253 Oliver, 21, citing fol. 112 of an Exeter statute book. Oliver says the pall should be placed over the “hearse,” but the Latin is not that clear, and it seems likely it refers to the tomb itself. On Brewer's eight candles, see DNB.

234 Lincoln.254 Physical aspects of some tombs also testify to the practice of lighting tapers for bishops at their tombs. At Winchester Cathedral, Bishop de Lucy's tomb (d.1205; Fig. 29) retains holes in the flat marble slab atop the tomb chest, into which “It was the custom to place seven tapers fixed on spikes into metal sockets on the leger-stone of his tomb, and these when lighted formed a burning cross over his remains.”255 Holes at the apex of the canopies of the effigy of Bishop Walter de la Wyle at Salisbury (Cat. 21) and of Bishop Bingham's effigy in the same church (Cat. 19) suggest that these once held some sort of candlestick. A bishop could also be more generally honored by additional lights at the cathedral on his anniversary. The 1280 statutes of Hereford note that during the obit celebrations of Bishop Richard de Capella (d.1127), all the candles should be lit.256 At York Minster, special lights were to be provided for in the choir and against the high altar during double feasts, on the day of burial of canons, and on the anniversaries of Archbishops Roger (d.1181) and Walter de Gray (d.1255).257 The actions performed during Absolution would have acquired much greater meaning were the tomb available to stand in for the coffin. According to the Sarum and York Uses, censing the tomb during the Requiem Mass formed part of the anniversary ritual for bishops and deans. The celebrant would begin censing the tomb at the head, and

254 Bradshaw and Wordsworth, Statutes of Lincoln, clxxiii (in Bishop Alnwick's Laudum, i.e. judgments on

disputes). The responsibility for carrying out this custom lay with the treasurer. 255 Vaughan, Winchester Cathedral: Its Monuments and Memorials (London, 1919), 34. 256 Hereford statutes, printed in Bradshaw and Wordsworth, Statutes of Lincoln, vol. II, pt. 1, 67. 257 York statutes, thirteenth century, printed in Bradshaw and Wordsworth, Statutes of Lincoln, vol. II, pt.

1, 97. This implies the full anniversary celebration was to be done in the choir.

235 then cense on either side, just as the angels are shown to do in the tomb sculpture.258 At Wells Cathedral, the Consuetudinary directs that the retrospective tombs of the cathedral's Anglo-Saxon bishops be censed regularly after the Altar of St Andrew.259 A 1213 ordo of Siena stated that the use of incense at a tomb was in part to fumigate and also to show that the person is “benefited by the help of” prayers.260 Visits to ecclesiastical tombs, pilgrimages of sorts, were often encouraged. Indulgences issued in the mid-thirteenth century were granted in exchange for offering prayers for the deceased, but often, as with a saints' shrine, a visit to the tomb itself was required in order to earn the indulgence. At Salisbury, the tomb of Bishop Robert Bingham was the object of several indulgences issued in the 1270s.261 To receive relaxation of penance of 13 days, a person could say prayers for Bishop Giles de Bridport and his brother “at the tomb before the altar of B Mary Magdalen” in the cathedral at Salisbury.262 The language of the indulgence for Alexander, former treasurer of St Paul's, issued by Bishop Fulk Basset, reads that visitors should worship at the altars of Saints

258 EGCF Atchley, A History of the Use of Incense in Divine Worship (Alcuin Club, 1909), 114-5. This

occurred three times during the Requiem Mass. Most of his discussion is about censing the body itself at various stages of the funeral. On p. 315-6, he discussed whether chantry Masses used incense, and concluded that they probably did. He did not say if he thought incense was used at the tomb during the Masses as well as at the altar. 259 Malone, 192: “For Jocelin the Anglo-Saxon bishops may have fulfilled a need since the church of Wells had no major relics, as did Glastonbury. The Wells consuetudinary instructs the priest on simple feasts to incense these tombs right after incensing the altar of St Andrew.” At St Augustine's in the thirteenth century, during Requiem Masses the tombs of the saints were censed (Atchley, 226-7). 260 Atchley, 204. 261 Wordsworth, Ceremonies, 42-3; “Wiltshire Pardons”: one from Bishop William de Bitton of Bath and Wells, dated 1271, one from Anian I of St Asaph, and one from Anian II of St Asaph, dated 1271 and 1272 respectively. In instances where a visit to the tomb was required, technically only those who traveled from the granting diocese were eligible for the remission, so it was not available to all who visited (Lea, p. 170-1). The rationale for offering indulgences for travel to another diocese is unclear: presumably this would increase oblations at the church in which the tomb was placed, but this would be of limited benefit to the granting bishop if he was not bishop of the church in which the tomb was housed. 262 Wordsworth, “Wilshire Pardons,” 20. The quote is Wordsworth's translation of the Latin.

236 Chad, Nicholas, and Ethelbert at the church, and there pray for the soul of Alexander. Alexander was buried before the altar of St Chad, which he built, and at which he founded a chantry of one priest.263 Also at St Paul's, a visit to the tomb of Magister Henry de Wingeham, Archdeacon of Middlesex (d.1267), was required to obtain an indulgence issued by William, Archbishop of Raga.264 To receive relaxation of penance for 20 days one could visit the tomb of Roger Niger (d.1241), former bishop of St Paul's.265 Given the mid-thirteenth century date at which such indulgences began to be offered, and the relative infrequency of their occurrence, they could not have influenced the development of the three-dimensional tomb. But having a three-dimensional tomb certainly would have served to the bishop's advantage in this situation. Whatever the perceived benefit, it is clear that a visit to the tomb itself was thought to be central to the effectiveness of these indulgences. The integration of tomb and ritual had as its model the treatment given saints' shrines. On certain days of the year, commemoration of the locally housed saint(s) formed a major part of the devotional calendar and the liturgy. Just as the elite among the ordinary dead came to insert their own commemoration into the annual round of prayer, as this chapter shows, so the practices that became customary at episcopal tombs echoed those performed at the shrines of saints, particularly in the use of lights, incense and the

263 Sparrow Simpson, 3; Dugdale, St Paul's, 19. The tomb is not mentioned in the wording of the

indulgence, but the fact that people were asked to pray for him at the altar near to it is still evidence for the importance of traveling to the place. 264 Sparrow Simpson, vxi and 5-6. The tomb was before the altar of Apostles in the cathedral. The indulgence was issued the same year. 265 Sparrow Simpson, 6-7, issued by John le Breton, Bishop of Hereford, in 1269. See also EEA 12, Exeter, no. 325, under Richard Blund, in 1252/3, who offered the same: “qui tumbam venerabilis patris Rogeri bone memorie quondam epsicop London' in ecclesia sancti Pauli Lond' quiescentis orationis causa devote visitaverint...” Roger was not officially sainted, but popularly venerated as such.

237 encouragement of visitors. The tombs of popularly revered bishops attracted offerings of prayers and objects from visitors to the church. Half of the oblations gathered over the course of each year at the tomb of Bishop Ghent (d.1315) at Salisbury was, on the day of that bishop's anniversary, divided among the canons who had been in residence that year.266 Lighting candles at the tombs of Christian martyrs was a custom dating to the fifth century.267 The association of lights with sanctity was hinted at in the comments made by Bishop Mortival regarding the oblations made for Ghent. In his register, Mortival remarked that “the lamp which till now is smoking on earth under the bushel, whensoever it please the Most High, set on a tall lampstand, giving light to all who are in the house... shall, with the furtherance of the Church, shed abroad clearer rays to that great joy of ours for which we wait.”268 Such elevation of the bishop from a smoking lamp to a bright light on tall lampstand (a hearse? a pedestal shrine?) would prefigure the hoped-for elevation and light of all who wait for entry into the communion of saints. As with the lights, incense was also used for the shrines and tombs of saints. The Abbey of St Augustine, for example, censed the tombs of the saints at requiem Masses in the thirteenth century.269 Such similar treatment of the bodies of bishops and saints suggests that bishops and their religious communities saw distinct advantages in the intertwining of body and ritual, and condoned these practices at the highest level of the church hierarchy. 266 Wordsworth and Macleane, 202-3. The other half was to be kept by the chapter, though for what

purpose is unstated. 267 Dix, 421-2. He did not discuss the history of lighting candles at tombs of the ordinary dead, although he

did note the importance of candles at funerals. 268 Wordsworth and Macleane, 202-3. 269 For saints, incense could burn in a stationary burner near a tomb, as in the shrines of Peter and

Marcellinus at the church of those saints in Rome, and several other examples, as noted in Atchley, chapter 5. For saints at St Augustine's, see Atchley, 226-7.

238 Can we posit a direct relationship between the existence of a showy monument and the hopes for attainment of peace for the soul of the deceased in the afterlife? The preliminary analysis above shows that from the late twelfth century forwards, a link between commemorative liturgy and the tangible presence of the tomb is a demonstrable fact.270 The body, even long after it was buried, maintained a place at the center of the rituals for ongoing commemoration. Three-dimensional tombs may not have been necessary to the carrying out of commemorative ritual, but their popularity developed alongside the increase in complication and number of rituals, and, when possible, they played a direct role in that ritual. Increased visual prominence of the tombs of illustrious church fathers no doubt promoted and situated the institution's history, but the tomb's involvement in commemorative prayer, at least from the twelfth century, suggests that visual prominence came to serve a perceived need for greater personalization of the liturgy, to capture more adequately the attention of the clergy and of God.

270 Stanford, “The Body at the Funeral,” also emphasized the centrality of the body (and images of the

body) to commemoration in her study of the images of the funeral incorporated in the early fourteenth century into an obituaire at Paris.

239 Chapter 5: The Effigy, Remembrance, and Redemption

The previous chapters have demonstrated that a prime factor for the clergy in choosing a location for a tomb was its proximity to an altar, and that remembrance through prayer was something for which the clergy made extensive provision. Additionally, the tomb itself often played a direct role during commemoration. I have also demonstrated the preference for an effigy from the mid-twelfth-century on, particularly, in the early decades of the form's appearance in England, for ecclesiastics. The question remains, did (and if so, how) having an effigy help to promote remembrance and/or redemption? In other words, what advantages might the form have had to make it worth the expense of the commission?

Basing his comments on those of Gregory I, Pope Nicholas in the ninth century condoned the use of visible tombs in churches: “it benefits the dead if they are buried in churches, because their relatives, whenever they come to these sacred places, remember their relatives, whose graves they see, and pour out prayers to God on their behalf.”1 That tombs could be affective, designed in such a way as to prompt an emotional response from a relative or other viewer (and thereby help maintain the memory of that person in the viewer's mind), was the topic of the essays collected in the volume Memory and the Medieval Tomb. The editors state that prompting memory was the sole purpose of the

1

For Pope Nicholas's letters, see Ernest Perels, MGH Epistolae VI, transl. WL North (Berlin, 1925), 568600, online at the Internet Medieval Sourcebook, http://www.fordham.edu/halsall/basis/866nicholasbulgar.html. The Pope is quoting Gregory as his source. The relevant passage in Gregory's works is Dialogues, IV, 50.

240 tomb. Several essays in the volume address keeping memory alive among loved ones, family members or associates through the use of tomb imagery that was affective and sensate and distinctive.2 Others stress that, as in fact Pope Nicholas stated, memorialization had a purpose: those who were left behind were not just to remember the departed among themselves, but to remember him or her to God. In England, the use of affective imagery was quite rare, and was basically unheard of on early ecclesiastical tombs. This is not to say that emotion was not expressed at the loss of a loved one. Certainly, ecclesiastical leaders could be missed by members of their community and their associates. A description of the death of an abbot at St Albans by the chronicler Matthew Paris makes the sorrow of the monks at their loss quite apparent.3 In describing the tomb of Dunstan at Canterbury in the early twelfth century, Eadmer said it was placed near the matutinal altar under a pyramid tomb, “thus by choosing so conspicuous a spot, he left a mournful and tender memorial of himself to the brethren singing in the choir, or ascending the steps of the altar.”4 Likewise, Simeon in his early twelfth-century History of Durham recorded that bishops attending the deathbed of Bishop William St Carileph decided that Bishop William “should be interred in the chapter-house, since it was a locality in which the brethren, having to assemble therein 2

3

4

Several essays in this book focus on the viewer, on the reception side of the object rather than the creation, although the authors might argue that prompting specific viewer response was a major motivation behind a tomb's creation. The impression one is left with from a viewer-centric approach, though, is a sense that the viewers, those left behind, were the primary beneficiaries of the tomb. There is no doubt that the interaction between object and viewers was crucial to the success of a tomb in promoting memory of the deceased, but it is the deceased, above all, who stood to benefit from the design. A viewer-centric approach made more sense for the follow-up volume, Decorations for the Holy Dead, which focused on viewers' experiences at saints' shrines and the ability of shrines to construct institutional memory. Both the institution and the viewers stood to gain substantially from the creation of an effective memory-experience around a shrine, much more so than did the saint. Matthew Paris, Chronicles of Matthew Paris: Monastic Life in the Thirteenth Century, transl. and ed. Richard Vaughan (Gloucester, 1984), 63-65. R Willis, Architectural History, 6.

241 daily, would be daily reminded in their hearts of their dearly beloved father, by the sight of his tomb.”5 Memory was maintained not through affective imagery but instead by placement and by the visibility of the tomb. Each of these statements is about personal memory and personal loss. Yet remembrance of an individual was also carried out in a broader context, and over a longer time span. As discussed in Chapter 3, an ecclesiastical tomb had the potential to speak to institutional and local history and identity as much as to an individual's history and identity. Given the high level of control that the chapter had over tomb placement and design within a church, it seems probable that episcopal tombs were understood to enhance the collective memory of the local church and of the broader institution. As Gervase's text on Canterbury Cathedral makes so clear, tombs stood as visual evidence of the church's history, tradition, and prestige.6 Archbishop Winchelsey's comments regarding the tomb of Bishop Giffard at Worcester are directly cognizant of the propagandistic value of a tomb for the institution; his statements reflect the view that a well-positioned and well-designed episcopal tomb had the potential to increase the status of the see.7 To a certain extent, status of the Church and local religious community could be enhanced by reference to the powerful families of which the bishop was often a member. Sometimes an episcopal tomb could be placed near a tomb of a lay member of his family. The Longespee family local to Salisbury produced a bishop and two earls who were 5

6

7

Simeon of Durham, A History of the Church of Durham, transl. J Stevenson (Burnham-on-Sea, 1993, reprint of 1855 original), 710. R Willis, Architectural History, chapter 3; C Cragoe, “Reading and Rereading Gervase of Canterbury,” JBAA 154 (2001), 40-53. See my Chapter 3, 130 and 139-40.

242 buried in the cathedral in the thirteenth century. In the fourteenth century, the grouping of Burghersh family tombs at Lincoln Cathedral, including the tomb for Bishop Burghersh, formed an impressive visual ensemble at the eastern end of the church. Heraldry appears on a few thirteenth-century ecclesiastical tombs, most notably the Purbeck monument for the heart burial of Bishop Aylmer de Valence at Winchester (Cat. 31), half-brother to Henry III. While heraldry would become more important on tombs in the fourteenth century and beyond, in the early years of effigial tomb development, proclaiming dynastic or political affiliations seems to have been relatively rare, despite the fact that bishops often descended from important, even royal, families, who would serve to augment the standing of the bishop as well as the see, and despite the fact that the position of bishop was itself socially elevated and would reflect well on the bishop's family.8 The tomb of Bishop Henry of Blois at Winchester (Fig. 4), for example, today shows no evidence of his relationship to King Stephen of Blois. The tomb of Bishop Aquablanca at Hereford (Cat. 10) has no surviving evidence of his association with the king, to whom he owed his position as bishop. Cathedral churches generally did not become episcopal family mausolea. Where burials of those related by blood were grouped together, indicating an interest in maintaining family connections, often those family members held a position in the same church.9 The aggregation of episcopal tombs in a church had the effect of

8

9

More research into the early use of heraldry on ecclesiastical tombs needs to be conducted, and perhaps compared to practice on the continent. Heraldry came into use in other circumstances in the twelfth century, for example being generally adopted on seals by c.1150. See T Woodcock and JM Robinson, The Oxford Guide to Heraldry (Oxford, 1988). As did, for example, the nephews of Bishops Aquablanca and Bridport, who were both buried near to their illustrious uncles. Morganstern, “The Bishop, the Young Lion and the Two-headed Dragon: the Burghersh Memorial in Lincoln Cathedral,” Memory and Oblivion, eds. Reinink and Stumpel, has

243 placing the bishop within a clerical family, as part of an ecclesiastical lineage, rather than a dynastic lineage. From the standpoint of the deceased, the most productive type of remembrance was that which involved ongoing prayer, as made evident by the great provision for regular commemoration discussed in Chapter 4. As Saul noted, commemoration may be understood in two senses: in the sense of remembrance of the individual, and in the sense of eliciting regular ongoing prayers, and “the former was but the means to the latter.”10 The tomb played a direct role in this process. Pope Nicholas's comments indicate that the tomb was a reminder not just of the departed but also of the importance of prayer for aiding that person. This too is echoed by later writers. A chronicler at Fécamp Abbey writing in the first third of the thirteenth century acknowledged a relationship between prayers said at the altar and burial nearby when he stated that the sight of the tomb would ensure its inclusion in prayers said at the altar.11 Financial gifts distributed on the anniversary, to onlookers and to the clergy, were thought to be a useful tool for stimulating prayer and memory. This was expressly declared in Bishop Mortival's statutes at Salisbury in 1319, in which he proclaimed that the offerings made at his predecessor's tomb would be gathered and divided between the chapter fund and the canons in residence for that year, “in order that his memory may be held in greater

10 11

discussed the grouping of Burghersh family tombs in Lincoln Cathedral, one of which was for Bishop Burghersh, but such dynastic groupings are, at least for what we know of the twelfth and thirteenth centuries, rare. Saul, “Bold as Brass,” 171-2. S Jones, “The Twelfth-Century Reliefs from Fécamp: New Evidence for their Dating and Original Purpose,” JBAA 138 (1985), 82 (Jones's translation): “for anyone singing at mass at the great altar, the box will always be directly in front of him. It was arranged in this way so that all would be aware of the prayers offered from them, if they were to have the box continually in their sight.”

244 renown among us.”12 By the fourteenth century, it was common for the tombs themselves, in their inscriptions, to exhort any passersby to pray on behalf of the individual. That the wording of these pleas is that the viewer should pray for the soul of the departed rather than to keep his memory alive is significant. This essential function of the tomb, to stimulate prayer, is expressly stated on one of the earliest effigies known. The c.1180 Purbeck episcopal effigy at Salisbury (Cat. 18) features an incised inscription asking the passerby, whoever it may be, to help with prayer, as one day that person will be in the same situation.13 Such types of inscriptions are so prevalent on later medieval surviving English memorial brasses that Sally Badham suggested that expressing status and pleading for prayer were both equal motivations for the choice of imagery on brasses for the laity.14 Other aspects of the tomb could also contribute to this essential function. Anne Morganstern suggested that from the fourteenth century and later, some medieval tombs associated with chantries sported heraldic devices that indicated the identity of the people who were to be remembered in the chantry prayers. The tomb in these instances may have acted as a visual prompt for the chantry chaplain's memory, serving the ultimate goal of intercessory prayer.15 The tomb, as an incitement to prayer, thus played a powerful part in the pursuit of spiritual redemption through its placement, its visibility, and its inscriptions. But in order to constitute a reminder, whether for political, dynastic, institutional, emotional or salvific gain, a tomb of any visible form would suffice. The tomb of 12 13

14 15

Wordsworth and Macleane, 202-3. Discussed in Anderson, “Tournai Marble tomb-slabs,” 86, and translated by her as “who ever you are, help with prayer, you will be like me.” Badham, “Status and Salvation”; see also Saul, “Bold as Brass,” 171. Morganstern, “The Tomb as Prompter for the Chantry.”

245 Dunstan mentioned by Eadmer was probably a chest with a coped lid. The memorial for William St Carileph was probably a slab flush with or set close to the chapter house floor.16 Both were thought by the brethren to be effective memorials for their leaders. The sheer fact of visibility aided the act of remembrance by the brethren and by the public. What advantage then, if any, did an effigy have over, as an example, a tomb chest with a coped lid? How might we explain the growing popularity of the effigy in the twelfth century? Was it a result of discussions of the theology of Resurrection? Did it relate to a rediscovery of Roman antiquities by the artists or patrons, or did it evolve as a happy result of a new-found desire for monumental figure carving? Was it evidence of a greater interest in 'self' or the individual? Was it borne of a need to align oneself visually with the saints, in glorified form, and if so, why then? A close look at the imagery on English ecclesiastical effigies suggests that it serves to identify the body, to present that body in the best light possible, and to express hopes for future redemption.

The effigy and the body The effigy and the body it was understood to represent are components of an ensemble. The placement of the recumbent effigy directly over the actual body in the coffin below forces a direct correlation between the image and the individual in a way that no other episcopal imagery (for example donor images or images on personal seals) could do. In addition to referencing the body through physical proximity to it, the effigy's

16

The author of the Rites of Durham, chapter xxvi, 54-55, described a number of episcopal burials in the floor of the chapter house, adorned simply with “names engraven upon stone with the signe of the crosse annexed.”

246 sculptured vestments mirrored the garments in which the corpse was dressed for burial.17 A crosier was also placed with the body in the coffin, as well as carved on the effigy. Fragments of pillows have been found in thirteenth-century ecclesiastical coffins, and after c.1230, ecclesiastical effigies began to be carved with pillows below the head. A general visual association between body and representation was all that was needed. The earliest effigies, including those in England in the twelfth and thirteenth centuries, were not accurate physiognomic portrayals of the individuals who were commemorated by the form.18 The non-specific nature of these sculptures is powerfully illustrated by the almost identical facial features of three effigies made at the same time for three bishops at three different churches (Cats. 2, 4, 12). Additionally, the representation of the person in effigy is usually of indeterminable age, and the features tend to be flawless. The lack of specificity was accepted by medieval patrons, as the 1319 will drawn up for Dean John de Aquablanca of Hereford suggests. This document includes written instruction—a rare survival at this date—for an ecclesiastical tomb, in 17

18

Thirteenth-century episcopal burials that yielded textile finds include two at Worcester (?William de Blois and ?Thomas Cantilupe, in AGI Christie, English Medieval Embroidery (Oxford, 1938), 52-4, nos. 4-8 and 68-70, nos. 33-7), one at Winchester (Henry de Blois, “On the Opening and Removal of a Tomb...” Archaeologia 42, pt. 2 (1869), 309-21), Hubert Walter's at Canterbury (Christie, 59, nos. 1518), and two at York (Walter de Gray and Geoffrey de Ludham, in Ramm et al.). Matthew Paris's description of the burial of Abbot William also details how the body was dressed and laid out (Paris, The Chronicles of Matthew Paris, 63), and Simeon's account of the translation of Cuthbert in 1104 describes the vestments in which Cuthbert had been buried (Simeon, History of Durham, 781-4). It is generally agreed that portraiture, or at least greater specificity, on medieval effigies did not appear until the fourteenth century, and even from that point is quite rare. See Joan Holladay, “Portrait Elements in Tomb Sculpture,” 217-21, in which she cites some early examples of specificity; ErlandeBrandenberg, “Le Tombeau de Saint Louis,” Bulletin Monumental 126 (1968), 14-24; Stephen Perkinson, “Rethinking the Origins of Portraiture”; idem, The Likeness of the King. Perkinson has shown that even when more exact physical likenesses began to appear in artistic production in the French courtly arena of the fourteenth century, it did not result in (or from) a wholesale adoption of a new, more modern attitude towards portraying the individual; as an art form, specificity in imagemaking may have served a specific social use, and was an extension of an already-existing system of signs (heraldry, clothing, pose, gesture) that continued to be used to express the 'individual' alongside the veristic (his term) face. Additionally, he suggested that even those portraits which are more veristic in nature were tempered by existing medieval concepts of the ideal.

247 which John commissioned not an image of himself, but simply an effigy “of a dean.” Likewise, the contract for the effigy of Henry III's sister, Queen Joan of Scotland (d.1238), merely required that the sculptor make an image of “a queen.”19 Written requests for effigies that used such generic language continued to be the norm up into the sixteenth century, despite the fact that by the end of the fourteenth century more exact likenesses were an available option. As Nigel Saul and others have pointed out, lay testators were much more concerned that executors would correctly display rank, status, and heraldic devices on their tombs than they were to receive a recognizable physical likeness in effigy.20 The remarkable innovation of representing the deceased in effigy on a funerary monument was not inspired by a need for physical likeness. The result is that funerary depictions of bishops emphasize the episcopal office rather than the person who held that office only temporarily, a distinction discussed in detail by Kantorowicz in his study of medieval political theory.21 The clothing and

19

20

21

Dean Aquablanca's will is printed in Capes, 186-90, and see J Gardner, “Tomb of Bishop Peter of Aquablanca,” 105. For Joan's tomb, see JMJ Fletcher, “Tarrant Crawford, and the Founder of Salisbury Cathedral,” Proceedings of the Dorset Natural History and Antiquarian Field Club, vol. XLIX (1928), 1-24; Calendar of the Liberate Rolls IV, 1251-60 (1959), 91, 138. Saul, “Bold as Brass,” 185-7, points out that wills show the testator to be more concerned with correct depiction of social position (through attire) and family connections (through heraldic devices, which often were clearly spelled out for the artist). Badham, “Status and Salvation,” 428ff, gives several late medieval examples of wills requesting brasses. These wills show no evidence of desire to show physical likeness or other personal details. E Kantorowicz, The King's Two Bodies. On tomb effigies emphasizing group rather than individual identity, see Binski, Medieval Death, 102-112. For secular brasses and slabs, see Badham, “Status and Salvation,” 427: “what is most apparent is the type or status of person commemorated. This was a prime concern of those commissioning monuments.” Holladay's and Saul's studies note that greater specificity, particularly more extensive and detailed costume, heraldry and inscriptions, did occur in the later centuries of the Middle Ages, but while Holladay sees this as a a step towards greater individualization, Saul, “Bold as Brass,” 189, interprets it as placing a person more firmly within a preexisting group. Although not focused on effigies, see Bynum, “Did the Twelfth Century Discover the Individual?” Jesus As Mother: Studies in the Spirituality of the High Middle Ages (Berkeley, 1982), 82109; and S Kramer and C Bynum, “Revisiting the Twelfth-Century Individual: The Inner Self and the Christian Community,” Das Eigene und das Ganz: Zum Individuellen im mittelalterlichen Religiösentum (Münster, 2002), both of which demonstrate the importance among medieval writers of

248 attributes displayed in episcopal iconography were unique to the position of bishop, but all bishops shared the same iconography. While the bishop could, at certain times in the liturgy, wear garments also worn by others, for example the cope and surplice described in the Sarum processional as choir vestments, the particular combination of items of clothing that was carved on effigies could only be worn by a consecrated bishop. The episcopal mass vestments represented the culmination of all the lower orders by including aspects of the garments worn by canon, priest, deacon, and archdeacon.22 Furthermore, the insignia, namely the sandals, the episcopal ring, gloves, the crosier, and the mitre, were unique to the rank of bishop, and were donned by him as a crucial aspect of the ceremony of episcopal consecration. The transition of the individual into his new state as bishop entailed the ritual accrual of these particular garments and objects. On tomb effigies, the vestments received particular attention from the sculptor and tomb painter alike, and, as with actual vestments, the details of cloth displayed in relief and picked out in color on the tomb would have communicated the status of the departed to great effect. Elaboration of external attributes of status on ecclesiastical tombs might suggest an overwhelming concern with outward show, or with attainment of rank and power. Certainly the tomb, with its size, fine materials, and color, was meant to impress. Yet, if communicating status and wealth had been the primary driving force behind the design of an effigy, a bishop or abbot might likely have chosen to be represented in effigy wearing a cope.23 Copes, arguably the most splendid item of a bishop's attire, were highly visible

22 23

following existing models of behavior and conforming to an exemplar rather than expressing individuality. Thanks to Warren Woodfin for this observation, pers. comm., Feb. 13, 2010. Only one tomb that I know of shows an ecclesiastic wearing a cope, and this is a late medieval brass

249 and fully ornamented outer-garments, heavily embroidered with geometric, foliate, and figural designs. A cope, however, was not exclusive to bishops or abbots: depending on the feast day, the cope was worn by different members of the choir.24 More importantly, the cope lacked in liturgical significance. It was only used at certain times in the liturgy, usually limited to processions and entrances into the choir. In the Sarum rite, the most widely used liturgy in the British Isles, when the bishop was to be the celebrant, he is instructed to enter the choir in a cope, but then to divest himself of it and be vested, or dressed, in the garments canonically required to perform the sacred rite of the Mass.25 William Durandus, in his Rationale Divinorum Officium written in the late thirteenth century, did not include copes in his detailed discussion of ecclesiastical vestments. Copes merely got a scant two-page mention in his prologue.26 The phrasing of thirteenthand fourteenth-century church inventories also indicates that a cope was surplus to the required suit of vestments.27 The accepted iconographical representation of a bishop, wearing the chasuble, tunicle, alb, stole and maniple required for celebrating Mass,

24

25

26

27

made for Canon Langeton in Exeter Cathedral, mentioned in Badham, “Status and Salvation.” Mayo, A History of Ecclesiastical Dress (New York, 1985), 55: from the thirteenth century, “The general rule for wearing copes was that they were worn by priests when presiding at much of the office in choir, when incensing altar at Lauds and Evensong, and also during processions, bidding prayers, weddings, and all ceremonial not directly connected with the offering of Mass. They were also worn by the assistant clergy during the celebration of Mass on more solemn days, by the cantors and occasionally by the choir.” The 970 Concordia Regularis states that copes could be used at great feasts by all ranks of clergy, including monks. Honorius of Autun associated them with cantors in 1125, as did Rupert of Deutz. Sicardus, Bishop of Cremona until 1215, said a cope could be worn by anyone. On the history of the cope, see E Bishop, “Origins of the Cope as a Church Vestment,” Liturgica Historia (Oxford, 1962), 260-75. Terence Bailey, The Processions of Sarum and the Western Church (Toronto, 1971), 15. See also Mayo, 38: “Lanfranc ruled in favour of copes which, although they had no intrinsic liturgical significance, gave splendour and magnificence to the great feasts.” Durandus, Durandus on the Sacred Vestments: An English rendering of the Third Book of the Rationale Divinorum Officiorum of Durandus, Bishop of Mende, ed. Rev TH Passmore (London, 1899), 17-18. The items in a suit of liturgical vestments (chasuble, maniple, stole, etc.) were often listed together, under the heading vestimenta, whereas copes were listed separately. See for example the late thirteenthand early fourteenth-century inventories at Canterbury published in Wickham Legg and St John Hope, Inventories of Christ Church Canterbury (Westminster, 1902), 44-80 and passim.

250 conveyed the bishop’s suitability to celebrate the most sacred rituals in the church. The insignia of episcopal office depicted on the effigy carried pastoral and spiritual meaning. As the authority to celebrate Mass was conferred by the ritualistic donning of liturgical vestments, so the process of becoming a bishop was effected through the act of donning episcopal insignia. A bishop’s ordination ceremony included vesting him for the celebration of the Eucharist. After the Mass and his consecration, the bishop accepted from the hands of his superior the ring, crosier, gloves and mitre. The dress of the tomb effigy is the same as that worn at the attainment of the episcopal office, the ceremony for which emphasized the bishop’s sacerdotal, as opposed to political or social, role. Each item of these vestments carried with it allegorical weight, as set out by William Durandus in the late thirteenth century and as stated in the ordination ritual. Bishops were cautioned during the donning of insignia to remain pure in spirit and deed, to maintain authority and teachings, and to exercise justice and discipline in their dealings with clergy and the faithful.28 Canons 3 and 4 of the third Lateran council held in 1179 aimed to reform the process of episcopal elections so as to eliminate candidates who were not adequately educated, mature, of worthy character, moderate in behavior, or fair of judgment. While dress and insignia were not always certain indicators of virtuous character—after all, sculptors' renditions of the Last Judgment could, as a visual lesson on the dangers of moral failing, show bishops and kings in the arms of demons as well as angels—they were considered to be markers of moral potential, and of expectation of strength and virtue. Dale’s research on the effigy of Rudolf of Swabia led him to suggest 28

Pontificale Romanum, "De consecratione electi in Episcopum." On the consecration ceremony, see W Maskell, Monumenta Ritualia Ecclesiae Anglicanae, II, 2nd edition (Oxford, 1882), cxxxii-cxlii and 268-90.

251 that external markers of royal position would have implied internal virtues and character traits, as laid out in the texts of royal consecration and coronation ceremonies.29 This was also true of bishops. To be elevated to such exalted status within the priesthood required (at least in theory) an intense spiritual devotion, and the desire and ability to be a model of Christian behavior. The pose illustrated on episcopal effigies—standing with a crosier in the left hand and blessing with the right—also represented the sacerdotal nature of the episcopal office. Evan Gatti's research traced the gesture of benediction as an iconography of the episcopacy to the tenth century, and found the choice of this imagery to be a selfconscious effort on the part of the bishop to emphasize the pastoral, spiritual side of the episcopal office rather than the administrative and political side.30 Cynthia Hahn’s work on body-part reliquaries of bishop-saints made in the shape of an arm explored the nature of the blessing gesture itself, which represents the bishop’s ability to extend God’s power and protection to the general populace. The gesture, used when making the sign of the cross, was reserved for bishops and popes. The action served to renew the bond between Christian and God through extending God’s benediction. As Hahn noted, “the Roman rite ended with a blessing by the bishop, a renewal of the sign of the cross upon the people to 29

30

Dale, “The Individual, the Resurrected Body,” 717-28. He also looks briefly at texts for episcopal investitures, and mentions in this context the mid-twelfth-century effigy of Archbishop Friedrich von Wettin of Magdeburg, which he believes shows both the individual personality (through attributes) and the glorified body to come, in the same idealized form. See also on the concept of the outer expressing the inner (in this case, through gesture and comportment), Jean-Claude Schmitt, “The Ethics of Gesture,” Fragments for a History of the Human Body, pt. 2, ed. M Feher (NY 1989) 128-47. Gatti, “Developing an Iconography of the Episcopacy: Liturgical Portraiture and Episcopal Politics in Tenth- and Eleventh-Century Manuscripts” (PhD diss., UNC-Chapel Hill, 2005), 13; idem, “Building the Body of the Church: A Bishop's Blessing in the Benedictional of Engilmar of Parenzo,” The Bishop Reformed, ed. Ott and Trumbore Jones, 92-121. See also Eric Palazzo, “The Image of the Bishop in the Middle Ages,” The Bishop Reformed, ed. Ott and Trumbore Jones, 86-91; idem, L'Évêque et son image: L'illustration du Pontifical au Moyen Age (Turnhout, 1999).

252 end the mass.”31 The gesture serves to highlight the bishop’s role as a shepherd of the people, but also places him as an intermediary or agent of transfer between the common and the divine.

The effigy and the everlasting Yet the effigy does not simply represent a historical fact, namely that the deceased had been a bishop, with all, both worldly and spiritual, that that role entailed. Patrons and artists of English episcopal effigies did not care to represent historical time. At its most basic level, the English effigy rejects the specific historical moment by not depicting a dead body. Despite its visual association with the body in the coffin, it does not display an image of the deceased as deceased. Nor is the individual depicted as he was just before death, in terms of age or condition of health. In fact, nowhere is death, or aging, or the passage of time visible on the effigy. Almost all English ecclesiastical effigies have open eyes, a reference not just to a moment in the life past, but to a future one as well.32 In medieval bestiaries, for example, illuminations of the caladrius bird, which was said to be able to foretell whether an invalid would or would not recover from his sickness, symbolically indicate death by depicting the ailing person with closed eyes (even though he was not yet dead).33 Those whom the bird predicted would live have open eyes. Additionally, the effigy slab is not treated as a shrouded bier, and the effigies typically are not posed with arms folded across the chest as a corpse laid out for burial. 31

32

33

Cynthia Hahn, “The Voices of the Saints: Speaking Reliquaries,” Gesta 36, no. 1 (1997), 20-31, quote on p. 27. With the possible exception of the Wells retrospective effigies, with arms folded over chests and possibly their eyes closed (Cats. 23-29) and an effigy in Llandaff (Fig. 24). George C Bruce, “Medieval Bestiaries and their Influence on Ecclesiastical Decorative Art,” JBAA 25 (1919), 41-82, esp. pp. 76-79.

253 Indeed, most bishops' effigies are active, with an arm raised in blessing. Bishops and abbots hold a crosier and sometimes a book. A number of effigies trample a beast below their feet, or spear it with the crosier. The more accomplished sculptures show the figure stepping forth (Cats. 20, 36). The figures sometimes stand on a corbeled base, as if upright, and the drapery, too, behaves as if the figure is standing rather than lying down. All this serves as a counterpoint to the horizontal disposition of the effigy, and to the actual body of the departed.34 That details of the individual's life were avoided in English tomb iconography indicates further the reluctance to situate the person within a specific moment in time. Narrative scenes of the funerary office were avoided, and biographical scenes of specific moments in a bishop's life are rare. Even when they do appear, as on Giles de Bridport's tomb at Salisbury (Cat. 20), each scene is broadly applicable to all or most bishops. These conventional images, of birth, teaching, death, etc., have, as Marion Roberts pointed out, iconographic precursors in narrative scenes of the lives of bishops and saints told in stained glass and manuscripts.35 A visual depiction of the deeds of the bishop, which in any case were preserved in chronicles and registers, was not thought necessary in the context of a funerary monument. Additionally, any reference to emotional or personal ties was avoided. Nowhere is the idea of loss visible on English episcopal tombs.36 Thus, a more complicated set of ideas lay behind the iconography of the effigy than merely faithfully depicting a body in a natural state. Instead, the body usually shown 34

35 36

The ambiguity of the recumbent effigy in sculptural and iconographical form was pointed out by Panofsky, 53-58. Binski, Medieval Death, 71, also noted the ambiguity of the image in relation to the dead body, particularly given the great variety of effigy forms used across Europe. Roberts, “Bridport,” 577. Or any emotion, in fact, as also noted by Badham, “Status and Salvation,” 429.

254 in English effigies is a body preserved outside of time, perhaps in a future, hoped-for state. Panofsky remarked long ago that Christian effigies were 'prospective' in nature, representing a state of being at the end of time rather than looking back to the achievements or events of the past. The idea that the effigy might represent the future spiritual state since then had been either quietly accepted or largely ignored in favor of discussions of status and family or political ties in relation to lay tombs. Thomas Dale, in his 2002 study of the c.1100 gilt bronze tomb effigy of the Swabian ruler Rudolf, returned to the idea of the effigy-as-spiritual-being. Dale concluded that the smooth, flawless, conventionalized image of the man, and the fact that it was made out of precious material, jointly express the glorious form of the resurrected body.37 Dale's study emphasized a number of late eleventh- and twelfth-century literary metaphors for the resurrected body. Hugh of St-Victor and Peter Lombard, for example, described the resurrected body as a statue re-forged or re-formed out of the original materials, losing nothing in the re-shaping, but resulting in an improved, perfected shape.38 Peter the Lombard suggested that the resulting body will be colored and luminous. Such metaphors are particularly applicable to Rudolf's early gilded bronze effigy and others like it. While the number of gilded bronze effigies like Rudolf's in England was relatively small, the interest in glowing, sumptuous materials on English

37

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Dale, “The Individual, the Resurrected Body.” On precious material invoking the heavenly, see, among others, Ellert Dahl, “Heavenly Images: The Statue of St Foy of Conques and the Signification of the Medieval 'Cult-Image' in the West,” Acta ad archaeologiam et artium historiam pertinentia 8 (1978), 175-91, esp. pp. 182ff. Dale, “The Individual, the Resurrected Body,” 728-9, cites several examples of this type of metaphor, e.g. as found in the late eleventh-century Book of the Dun Cow, and the writings of Hugh of St Victor and Peter Lombard. See also Bynum, Resurrection, 115-199 on twelfth-century scholars' discussions of the perfected and reformed body. Other concurrent metaphors for the resurrected body mentioned by Bynum include those of rebirth and regurgitation (as Jonah in the whale).

255 tombs is evident nonetheless. Whenever possible, English ecclesiastical patrons used expensive marble-like stones. These, as well as effigies carved of less showy stone, were probably painted and/or gilt, as suggested in chapter 2. In presenting an image of the deceased as a gleaming, gilded and colored body, through the media of precious materials and added color in enamel or applied glass or gems or, the early English effigy bears some affinity to Rudolf's gilt bronze effigy, to the evocation of the heavenly as found with saints' sumptuous reliquary containers, and, perhaps, to a twelfth-century conception of the resurrected body. Dale concluded his study by arguing that the innovation of Rudolf's effigy was a direct result of contemporaries' beliefs about the ruler's sanctity. Rudolf, as an unofficial martyr, was given similar treatment after death as the saints by being placed in a container which, like the containers of the saints, expressed his eventual place in heaven. While a direct correlation between having achieved (or being thought to have achieved) a certain level of sanctity in this life and being entombed in precious material might be applicable in Rudolf's particular instance, it seems troublesome to suggest that all effigies made after this one, metal or otherwise, might have been commissioned for the same reason.39 To interpret an effigy as an indicator of an individual's (perceived or real) sanctity seems untenable among English examples. Saints' monuments and those of bishops might share the same interest in sumptuous materials, but the placement of an effigy on top of a tomb marked a significant difference in practice from the treatment of saints' remains. Full-length effigies, as were becoming more popular on tombs, were

39

Dale, “The Individual, the Resurrected Body,” 717, himself mentions that Rudolf’s tomb was unusual in terms of choice of imagery (effigy) and material (gilded bronze).

256 almost never found on shrines. I only know of two examples of effigies associated with saints' burials in France, and these were added to the burial site long after the saints' remains had been commemorated. In England, the monument marking the burial of Cuthbert in the cloister of Durham Cathedral included an image of him, although whether it was a recumbent effigy or an upright statue is unknown, and in any case, the saint’s body had by that time been translated to a shrine within the cathedral.40 Some figure sculpture did exist on or around the shrines, but they were, typically speaking, narrative scenes rather than full-length effigies. Reliquaries made in the shape of body parts did exist, but most shrines were of the gabled type. Unlike reliquaries, tomb effigies do not encase the remains of the body, and therefore do not exert the same kind of direct association between object (body) and container.41 Apart from the similarity of materials, the effigy does not necessarily illustrate an individual's claim to (or reputation for) sanctity through a direct association of form between tomb and shrine. I suggest instead that in addition to evoking the glories of the afterlife in a general way, the materials used for the effigy draw their meaning from their association with the deceased body. Materials such as stone, marble, enamel, and metals were particularly

40

41

For Durham, see Rites of Durham, chapter xxxiii, 68-69. The French effigies at shrines are found at StStephen's, Obazine and at St-Omer. Binski, Medieval Death, 71, also noted that shrines of saints “excluded these bodily surrogates” (i.e. effigies). Ellert Dahl, 175-91, discusses the anthropomorphic reliquary as evoking the presence of the saint and making him or her more immediate to the worshiper. Hahn, however, showed that these body-part containers often did not contain the part of the body that they represented, and so did not project a direct relationship between body and image. Similarly, the effigy does not necessarily have a one-to-one correspondence with the remains below it. Queen Eleanor, for example, had three full-size effigies on her three tombs, each of which held fragments of her body. An effigy therefore is not an exact mirror of what lies below, but is rather a representation of a concept. There may be some correspondence between tombs with gabled lids and gabled shrines, although Pamela Tudor-Craig, in N Stratford et al., “Archbishop Hubert Walter's Tomb and its Furnishings,” Medieval Art and Architecture at Canterbury before 1220, BAACT, ed. Coldstream and Draper (Leeds, 1982), 71-93, suggested that gabled tombs stem from classical tradition, “probably reinforced by the adoption of this form for metal shrines.”

257 suited for the purpose of tomb sculpture because each of these materials was associated with permanence, with the everlasting, a concept of great importance when juxtaposed with the natural process of death and decay of the human body.42 Job, lamenting the frailty and corruption of his body, cried that his strength was not that of stone, nor his flesh made of brass, both materials impervious to decay and pain (Job 6:12). It is of this phrase of Job's that Henry of Blois, bishop of Winchester, may have been thinking when he ordered an inscription in verse on an enamel plaque stating that he, the donor, was “alive in bronze.”43 The phrase suggests that an image of him, made in bronze, both would perpetuate his memory among the living as well as symbolize his everlasting existence after judgment. Also represented by the effigy, in opposition to the reality of decay, is the concept of wholeness. Wholeness of the corporeal body has traditionally been linked to the concept of spiritual wholeness. Central to recognizing the holiness of the saints was the incorruptibility of their bodies, their resistance to, or overcoming of, the process of change, and especially decay, to which the ordinary dead were fated. Incorruptibility is an important feature of hagiography, with the translation of Cuthbert's body at Lindisfarne eleven years after his death in 687 as an early English example.44 The pleasant odors often described as emanating from saintly bodies also underscored the purity of the person interred. By contrast, decay or rot indicated and was a result of moral unwholesomeness, as in William of Malmesbury's description of the stench emanating

42 43 44

Binski, Medieval Death, 96-7. Hayward, no. 277a and b. See for example the c.698-705 Anonymous life of Cuthbert, and Bede’s c.721 prose life of Cuthbert, both printed in Colgrave, Two Lives of Saint Cuthbert.

258 from the grave of a corrupt eleventh-century abbot.45 The concept of wholeness, illustrated by the intact effigy, held particular meaning in light of the resurrection. Humans must die and decay, a result of sin, but at the resurrection, the body would be remade, whole, a concept neatly illustrated by the complete effigy placed in juxtaposition with the decayed (and sometimes partial) actual body in the coffin below. The effigy thus expresses confidence in the possibility of future resurrection. The application of color to an effigy enhances this idea. While the added brilliance to the permanent material beneath in a general way approximated the glorified, post-Resurrection body, it, too, has a meaning more directly related to the funerary context. Color was understood in the Middle Ages to express life. Its use on figure sculpture imparted life to the object, and endowed it with presence, personality, and individuality.46 As a commentator with Wycliffite fears about idolatry wrote, ‘Ye peyntor makith an ymage forgid with diverse colours til it seme in foolis izen as a lyvelie creature.’47 The author of the Rites of Durham, describing the medieval painted figures of Durham Cathedral, wrote in 1593 that the figures were “so lyvelly in cullers and gilting.”48 Both authors use the term “lyvelly,” which at its root means living or life-like. It was because of this life-likeness that painted images were sometimes problematic, seen 45

46

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William of Malmesbury, GP, v, 258, discussing Brihtwald II, abbot of Malmesbury (d.1067): “Ancient tradition has it that Brihtwald, being slow to do good but quick to do evil, came to a pitiful end, dying in the town surrounded by the materials for a drinking bout, and was buried among his predecessors in the church of St Andrew, which is right next to the big church. It is generally believed that the watchmen at the church were disturbed by dreamlike shadowy shapes, until they dug up Brihtwald’s body and sunk it in a deep marsh far away from the monastery. At intervals a noxious smell rose from the marsh and spread its noisome stench over the surrounding countryside.” Aston, England’s Iconoclasts, chapter 4, esp. p. 110; Park, “The Polychromy of English Medieval Sculpture”; Badham, “'A new feire peynted stone,'” 48-9. R Deacon and P Lindley, Image and Idol: Medieval Sculpture (London, 2001), 29-37, and also cited in Badham, “'A new feire peynted stone,'” 48. Rites of Durham, 43.

259 as idols rather than as devotional aids. Vestments on ecclesiastical effigies provided ample opportunity for color, texture, and pattern, which serve to illustrate the high office held by the individual, but, more importantly, also communicate the idea that the effigy represented the concept of everlasting life. The effectiveness of ornament and color to express life is most evident in 'cadaver' or transi tombs, a phenomenon more often seen in the fifteenth century. The bright, colored, “lyvelly” effigy on the upper tiers of these tombs is juxtaposed with a carved image of a dead corpse, gray, and wrapped in a gray shroud, below. Death is represented as absence of color, while the living effigy is expressed in vivid—vivid itself being an adjective derived from the Latin root meaning to live—color. Recent scholarship such as Dale's has focused on the effigy itself, particularly on the issue of portraiture as it may apply to medieval images, but an effigy often expresses its messages in concert with other imagery that tends to be overlooked. Tomb effigies were from their earliest appearance in England accompanied by additional sculpture that sets them apart from other standard depictions of bishops, such as on personal seals or as donors, and augments the ways in which the figure should be interpreted. First, the sculptured figure of the deceased bishop is housed in a setting that is anything but worldly. The elaboration of the architectural and/or foliate frame around a representation of the person, a consistent feature for English ecclesiastical tombs from the earliest survivals (c.1150), seems to have originated on tombs. On personal seals, as a comparison, this additional imagery did not appear until the thirteenth century. Episcopal tomb effigies were also accompanied at a very early stage by sculptured angels who swing censers towards the main figure, a feature which did not adorn representations of

260 ecclesiastics in other contexts. Each of these features adds weight to the interpretation of the effigy as a hoped-to-be-resurrected body, existing outside of historical time. Canopied niches may have been a purely decorative device, but the consistency with which they were used on early English ecclesiastical tombs, and the fact that there were plenty of other ways to make a 'frame' for an effigy lying on a slab, makes it likely that it had import beyond that of mere ornament. Contemporary imagery of figures housed under canopies or within niches in other media suggests that the combination was generally used to signify the presence of an especially holy or sanctified body in a sanctified or heavenly location. The array of 127 surviving large-scale figures arranged in tiers across the broad west front of Wells Cathedral is the largest and most visually prominent thirteenth-century use of niche imagery similar to that seen on twelfth- and thirteenth-century English ecclesiastical effigies.49 Larger-than-life sculptures of bishops, abbots, monks, deacons, kings, and knights inhabit private architectural niches seemingly scooped out of the facade. The statues are individually housed under gabled niches, but all are included as part of a greater whole. Malone's recent study of the iconographical program of the west front at Wells has interpreted the grouping of individuals on the facade as the communion of saints, the City of God. Representing saints of all types, the facade statues in aggregate represent the elect of human society, who one day will both inhabit and reinforce the heavenly Jerusalem.50 As promised to John in his revelation, “he

49

50

Originally there had been 177 statues. The figure sculpture on the west front of Salisbury was never finished and today the medieval statues are heavily damaged, but had it survived, it would have been a comparable display. The fabric of the facade at Wells is the subject of Sampson, Wells Cathedral West Front: Construction, Sculpture, and Conservation (Thrupp, Stroud, Gloucs, 1998), and a full-length study of the iconography of the facade has been published by C Malone, Facade as Spectacle: Ritual and Ideology at Wells Cathedral (Leiden, 2004). Malone, 58-69, on identifying the figures in the niches as saints, and on the concept of the saints as the

261 that overcometh will be made a pillar in the temple of God, the new Jerusalem” (Rev 3:12). Similar imagery is found in the words of Christ through John: “in my father's house there are many mansions” (John 14:2). Binski pointed to a sermon given by St Bernard on Canticles 2:14, in which Bernard used the familiar metaphor of the Church as a structure not of stones but of saints, which awaits fulfillment or completion with the living stones mentioned in Peter's epistle (1 Peter 2:4-5).51 Malone suggests that the mason, in response to a directive to create a representation of the City of God, would have begun his design with “architectural forms evocative of heaven.”52 The gabled niche, as used so freely on this facade, is one such resonant form, as it stemmed from an abundant and long-standing medieval tradition that often portrayed holy figures within an architectural framework of round or pointed arches.53 There is no documentary evidence directly linking this strain of thought with the design of the west front of Wells, yet the relationship between the physical structure of the church and its members is clearly expressed through visual means, and the concept of saints, the elect, housed in a holy space both individually and collectively was current and known by artists and ecclesiastical leaders. Similar meanings might have been understood by those who

51 52 53

structure of the City of God, 66-9. See also Binski, Becket's Crown, 106-21. Binski, Becket's Crown, 120-1, sermon no. 62, on Canticles 2:14. Malone, 93. Ibid., 94-105, on the history of the iconography of the niche. Examples of saintly figures in niches dating from the ninth to the twelfth century abound, in large-scale and small-scale works, in all sorts of media. See also Binski, Medieval Death, 86-88. S'Jacob, 168-70, did not give the tomb canopy extensive discussion, but did note that it replaced earlier Paradisical imagery often depicted at Christian burials. The buildings sometimes found on tombs, she believes, show the celestial Jerusalem, using the imagery of the city (multiple buildings in the background) and the church (single canopied niches). Some canopies on tombs go beyond representing a niche housing one individual and hint at several additional buildings behind, as if the building were part of a larger city (see e.g. Cats. 38, 44, 48, 49, Fig. 9). These tombs have some affinity with apse paintings and mosaics from Byzantine and Italian churches that suggest the existence of a holy city.

262 created and those who saw a tomb effigy in a niched setting.54 Depicted as it was at a remove from personal historical narrative, the English ecclesiastical effigy, within its niche, neatly expresses the idea of future heavenly habitation in the communion of saints. The concept of the private niche occupied by a saintly figure can be found in a more directly relevant funerary context. Saints' burial places often incorporated a threedimensional canopy arching over the tomb or shrine, an early feature known from St Peter's among other early Christian churches.55 The custom is documented in England as early as the early eighth century. Bede mentioned that a canopy was placed over the site of Etheldreda's burial when she was exhumed and her body found to be uncorrupted.56 St Swithun's former burial place at Winchester was also marked by a covering, as was Cuthbert's early tomb in the cloister at Durham.57 Two early twelfth-century manuscripts depict Cuthbert's shrine in the cathedral church under an architectural canopy.58 In each 54

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Roberts, “Effigy of Bishop Hugh,” 82, noted that Matthew Paris, in his chronicle entry regarding the death of Bishop Hugh de Northwold of Ely (Cat. 3), described Bishop Hugh as having prepared for himself a “palatia caelesta.” It is intriguing to think that Paris may have been referring to the sculptural tour-de-force that is the canopy on his tomb. Malone, 99-105, suggests that there may have been a direct transference of meaning between ecclesiastical tomb niches and the imagery of the City of God at Wells: masons working at Wells might have used tombs and shrines as their models, and perhaps even were employed as tomb carvers. In his discussion of the sculptural language of miniature habitations displayed on the Wells facade, Binski did not make a connection to tombs. On St Peter's tomb, Kirschbaum, 120-64; on early Christian saints' tombs more generally, see Crook, Architectural Setting of the Cult of Saints, chapter 2, and subsequent chapters for development of these sites over time. Bede, EH, iv, 19; Liber Eliensis, i, 27. They erected the covering while they were digging up the body, then translated it into the church and put it in the white marble sarcophagus found for her. The burial site turned into a spring which was given some sort of architectural housing, described as an atrium in bk iii, 116. the location is discussed by the Fairweather, p. 453, n. 512. For Swithun, see Crook, Architectural Setting, 163-64 and 254-5. The contemporary sources on the translation are Wulfstan of Winchester, Narratio Metrica de S Swithano and Lantfred, Translatio et Miracula S. Swithuni. See also M Lapidge, The Cult of St Swithun (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 2003). The tomb in the Durham cloister with canopy is mentioned in the Rites of Durham, xxxiii, 68-69. Cuthbert's shrine is depicted in BL Ms Yates Thompson 26, fol. 83 under triple canopy formed of a central gable flanked by rounded arches, each part topped by a tower. In Bodl Univ. Coll. Ms 165, fol. 130r, the tomb is under a double arcade with mini-towers or finials. Even if we understand these as conventionalized images of a saint's burial, they still prove the point. Similar ciboria are also known in Europe, from the beginning of the eleventh century in Dijon, over the tomb of St Benedict, and in the

263 of these illuminations, a lamp hangs in the central space over the tomb, implying that the surround houses a more intimate space. The space occupied by the sanctified presence was set apart by demarcation under a canopy. The format of ciboria over shrines—a three-dimensional architectural canopy standing upright over a burial—is admittedly quite different from a horizontal figure in relief within an arched surround, as seen on effigial tomb slabs. But certain midthirteenth-century tombs in England did include an additional three-dimensional canopy, and this was a feature which was to gain in popularity among the clergy and laity by the turn of the fourteenth century (Cats. 10, 19, 20, 36).59 It may be significant that the columns on the architectural superstructure over the effigy of Bishop Giles de Bridport in Salisbury (Cat. 20) were at one point painted with swirling bands of color, as were the engaged colonnettes on either side of the effigy of Bishop Bronescombe at Exeter (Cat. 9); often at saints' shrines the ciborium rested on twisted columns. The niche around the effigy could be augmented by foliage, which in several instances curls along the edges of slabs (Cats. 7, 17, 19, 31, 32), up and around the colonnettes (Cats. 2, 4, 12, 15, 16, 35, 36) or over the top of the canopy (Cats. 23-27, 50, 51). Other effigies lie on a bed of foliage, which replaces the imagery of the canopy altogether (Cat. 33, 34). Foliage also appears as decorative embellishments in the corners of the slab or under corbels (Cat. 11). Henriette s'Jacob discussed the use of foliage,

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twelfth century over the grave at the holy sepulcher, Jerusalem, at St Lazare’s grave in Autun, and at the tomb of St Vincentius at Basel (Walter Franzius, Das Mittelalterliche Grabmal in Frankreich (PhD diss., University of Chicago, Tubingen, 1955), 168-9. See for example LL Gee, “'Ciborium' Tombs,” who cites Italian and French sources for the 'ciborium' tomb type popularized by royals in Westminster Abbey at the end of the thirteenth century. On earlier canopies in England, on ecclesiastical tombs, see Roberts, “Bridport,” 561-5. Morganstern, “Liturgical and Honorofic Implications” discusses mural and freestanding tombs with canopies in France, also mostly for ecclesiastics.

264 sometimes inhabited with birds or other animals, as the imagery of Paradise, chiefly found near or on early Christian tombs.60 The interlaced foliage with birds entwined in the branches on the twelfth-century Tournai effigy slab at Salisbury (Cat. 17) seems to partake of the paradisical representation of the hereafter. Contemporary use of foliage in architectural settings usually served to indicate a particularly holy space. To embellish the presbyteries of the cathedrals of Ely and Lincoln, in which were housed the high altars and the shrines, the sculptors carved an unprecedented profusion of vegetation. While rather more sedate in its carved decoration, Salisbury Cathedral's selective use of foliate capitals in the choir to mark the area where the high altar is thought to have been located demonstrates a similar approach to the use of foliate details.61 Exuberant painted foliage adorned the walls in the transepts and the eastern end of the cathedral. Miraculous growth of foliage to express sanctity occurred in a number of saints' legends. William of Malmesbury tells of the death of Alphege, archbishop of Canterbury, at the hands of the Danes: Some [Danes] indeed, being better disposed towards the archbishop, fought to get his remains buried, but for some time were opposed by his killers. But when the matter was brought to judgement, it was agreed that if the dead tree which chance had provided should come to life again through the saint’s blood on the day after the hearing, the Christians could bury the body as they thought fit. And this came to pass. For in the morning the tree, which had even by that time lost its bark, was found to have come to life again, clothed in flowers and swelling buds. And so permission was then given for the body to be peacefully buried at St Paul’s

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S'Jacob, 145-167. She did not however concentrate on the high Middle Ages, since the use of the imagery was largely discontinued. But see Binski, Becket's Crown, 91, where he notes that the crocket piers at Lincoln do not mark a significant liturgical division today, although he admits we do not know the eastern end's original plan.

265 in London.62 Paul Binski interpreted the prolific foliage in Ely Cathedral's eastern end as a specific visual allusion to the hagiography of St Etheldreda, and in particular to a miracle in her legend involving the flowering of a barren twig as a specific manifestation of her purity, incorruptibility, and sanctity.63 Bishop Northwold, who helped to pay for the presbytery housing Etheldreda's shrine, received the most highly ornamented tomb of all of the surviving twelfth- and thirteenth-century examples in England, made probably by the same sculptors who worked on the building and on the shrine (Cat. 3). Binski sees in the richly entwined growth on his tomb a reference to Anglo-Saxon tradition, specifically to local Anglo-Saxon products, such as the Benedictional of St Ethelwold, in order to place the bishop as heir to Etheldreda.64 Prolific growth was also more generally associated with all members of the community of saints. The saintly inhabitants of the holy city on the west front of Wells Cathedral, for example, are framed by architectural canopies that are embellished with crockets behind the shafts. Binski suggested that the foliate details at Wells, as at Lincoln and Ely, “bring to this show of saints ... metaphorical associations of viriditas: the righteous planted in the house of the Lord who flourish in the courts of God (Psalm 91:13-4).”65 The combination at Wells of the formal elements of canopy, foliage and figure likens the west front statues to a great number of thirteenth-century ecclesiastical tomb effigies, and a transfer or overlay of meaning here should not be overlooked. 62 63

64 65

William of Malmesbury, GP, chapter 76, Elfheah, Bishop of Winchester 984-1005 after Ethelwold. Binski, Becket's Crown, 87-101. Her purity was corporeal as well as spiritual, and Binski draws comparisons between her imagery and that of the Virgin Mary. Ibid., 100. Ibid., 109. Binski did note an overlap of imagery between the foliage at Ely and that on Bishop Hugh of Northwold's tomb, p. 98-101.

266 The Bible is rich in allusions to the fruiting or flourishing tree as a metaphor for a flourishing of spiritual purity that would result in everlasting life, while barren sticks symbolize sin and death. The metaphor appears most frequently in exhortations to abide with God; those who do so will fruit, but those who do not will wither. The Pauline epistles urge the listener to take care to be part of the tree, because those who do not believe will be cut out, while those who come to believe can be grafted in. To the Romans Paul said “What fruit had ye then in those things whereof ye are now ashamed? For the end of those things is death. / But now being made free from sin, and become servants to God, ye have your fruit unto holiness, and the end everlasting life” (Romans 6:21-2). The metaphor of rooting faith in Christ and bearing fruit as a result appears also in Colossians 2:6-7: “As ye have therefore received Christ Jesus the Lord, so walk ye in him: / Rooted and built up in him, and established in the faith, as ye have been taught, abounding therein with thanksgiving.” As in Psalm 1:3, the righteous tree shall bring forth fruit, and its leaves shall not wither. The corollary, that a sinful soul is barren, was a theme taken up by Anselm in his meditations: “'Barren tree, where is your fruit? You deserve to be cut down and burnt, cut up and put on the fire.... Perhaps you think of some sin as small? Would that the strict judge would regard any sin as small.... Barren and useless wood, deserving eternal burning, what reply will you make in that day?'66 Each of these uses of the metaphor relates to the sentiment expressed in John 15:1-8: I am the true vine, and my Father is the husbandman. Every branch in me that beareth not fruit he taketh away: and every branch that beareth fruit, he purgeth it, that it may bring forth more fruit. Now ye are clean through the word which I have spoken unto you. Abide in me, and I in you. As the 66

Quoted in Rosalind and Christopher Brooke, Popular Religion in the Middle Ages: Western Europe 1000-1300 (London, 1984), 146. Written at Bec, probably between 1070 and 1080.

267 branch cannot bear fruit of itself, except it abide in the vine, no more can ye, except ye abide in me. I am the vine, ye are the branches. He that abideth in me, and I in him, the same bringeth forth much fruit; for without me ye can do nothing. If a man abide not in me, he is cast forth as a branch, and is withered; and men gather them, and cast them into the fire, and they are burned. If ye abide in me, and my words abide in you, ye shall ask what ye will, and it shall be done unto you. Herein is my Father glorified, that ye bear much fruit; so shall ye be my disciples. The vine, therefore, the living foliage, fruitful and abundant, is imagery of the possibility of salvation through Christ. The presence of angels on almost all the episcopal effigies in the twelfth and thirteenth centuries most obviously suggests a suspension of the natural, visible world in tomb imagery and speaks to a future, other-worldly state of being. Rather than the musical instruments held by angels in the thirteenth-century choir programs at Salisbury and Lincoln, the angels on ecclesiastical tombs hold thuribles and are sculpted in the act of censing the bishop.67 While the angels often occupy the spandrels of the architectural surround, near to the effigy, they do not occupy the same space as the effigy. They are kept slightly separate, just outside of the main gable, and in some cases are seen swooping down from the clouds towards the figure (Cats. 2, 3, 12, 34, 50).68 The angels thus seem to be bridging a gap between the effigy and heaven, as aides helping the body towards its desired state. In the fourteenth century, when the angels no longer hold censers but instead hold the effigy's pillow, and when they do begin to occupy the same space as the effigy, the message of aiding or guiding is still made clear by the proprietary 67

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Angels on tombs do not hold musical instruments, but on rare occasions they hold other attributes (such as a sun and moon, and scrolls). It is a curious thing that very few surviving abbatial tombs have censing angels. Cat. 50 at Peterborough and Cat. 43 at Gloucester are the exceptions. Only in two instances is the effigy itself shown on clouds: the effigy of Bishop Hugh of Northwold (Cat. 3), where a layer of cloud is carved below the beast, and the effigy of Archbishop Walter de Gray (Cat. 36), where busts of angels at the effigy's feet form corbel heads for the canopy, and the clouds from which they appear spread under the effigy and beast.

268 placement of their hands and, often, their gaze upwards towards heaven, the goal to be (but not yet) reached. As comforters and intercessors, angels, it was hoped, would be present at the moment of death to guide the soul as it left the body. In the text of the Office for the Dead, an appeal is made to the angels to take the soul safely to the bosom of Abraham.69 In illuminations introducing the Office for the Dead in late medieval Books of Hours, angels were frequently shown guiding the soul on its journey heavenward, often battling a demon who attempted a last-minute capture of the rising soul. Angels could also accompany a soul emerging from Purgatory, as some miniatures indicate.70 Convention in art was to depict the soul as an unclothed figure, much smaller than the deceased body, a type which is consistent in illuminations illustrating the Office for the Dead and on tombs that display this imagery.71 However, the motif of angels bearing the soul was a relatively unpopular form of imagery on English tombs, appearing only on the Tournai tomb at Ely, on which a large angel carries the soul of a bishop in a cloth (Fig. 9), and in much smaller form at the apex of Bishop Hugh of Northwold's gabled tomb canopy (Cat. 69

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This is an antiphon during the commendation of the soul that directly petitions for the deceased to be taken to the heavenly Jerusalem: Henderson, 58 (York), 59* (Sarum), and Absolution, 94 (York). It is interesting that at these points in the service, when the actions are more directly about the body, the text sung is about the soul. A prayer that angels may lead the soul to the regions of the living is also part of the Office (Henderson, 68*). See the variety of images in Wieck, “The Death Desired.” Usually the soul is shown departing at the deathbed, but the motif can also be found in scenes of the Office, Commendation of the dead, etc. The role of angels as carriers of the soul has roots in the classical world, and its origins are discussed by s'Jacob. There are some exceptions to the depiction of the soul as a diminutive nude figure. Sometimes the souls of saints are fully dressed, as in an eleventh-century ivory book cover illustrating the beheading of St Kilian and two companions; above the scene angels carry in a cloth all three saints, shown fully dressed (C Hahn, Portrayed on the Heart: Narrative Effect in Pictorial Lives of the Saints from the Tenth through the Thirteenth Century (Berkeley, 2001), 169). An 1162 manuscript shows angels carrying upwards the soul of St Benedict, which wears the same clothes as the deceased body in the lower scene (Hahn, Portrayed on the Heart, 105). The explanation for the unusual 'clothed soul' depictions might lie in the sanctified status of the deceased. This is borne out by the fact that in some of these depictions of angels present at a saint's death, the angels' hands are veiled, as if holding a sanctified relic.

269 3).72 More popular on effigial slabs is imagery of angels accompanying the deceased's body. On Northwold's tomb, the angels carrying the soul exist in addition to larger angels in the spandrels of the niche who cense the main figure of the bishop. The effigy, in its life-sized and fully clothed form, contradicts the typical medieval convention for depicting the soul, and the presence of both types of angel imagery on Northwold's tomb reinforces the suspicion that we are to read the angels shown censing the tomb effigy in another way, namely that these angels accompany the deceased in his bodily form. This imagery bears resemblance to depictions of bodily assumption into heaven of a particularly holy figure. Angels bear up the full-sized, clothed body of the Virgin Mary in contemporary depictions of her death.73 In illuminated manuscripts of some Lives of saints from the tenth to the twelfth century, angels could be present at the martyrdom or burial of the saint, and sometimes hold up the clothed body or a part of the body of the saint, with hands veiled so as not to defile the holy relic.74 Yet no matter how ideal it would have been for each ecclesiastical figure to have been determined a saint whose 72

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Such imagery could, however, have appeared elsewhere on the monument, for example painted on the tomb chest or on the back wall of a mural niche. As always, there is the possibility that survival rates have diminished our understanding of how popular this imagery was. But judging from extant evidence, the imagery appears to have been much more common on the continent. The c.1210 Coronation Portal on the north transept at Chartres is an early sculpted example, but the scene was depicted earlier in manuscripts, for example in the c.1170 Glasgow Psalter, Glasgow Hunterian Library, Ms U.3.2, fol. 5. The scene was described in an English twelfth-century homily: Old English Homilies of the Twelfth Century, ed. Richard Morris, series II, Early English Text Society (1873, repr. 1975), 166. Examples include the c.900 manuscript of the Life of Cassian, and a c.970 scene of the martyrdom of St Margaret, where an angel with veiled hands lifts the heads of the respective saints. An English Life of St Guthlac, c.1210, shows the dead or dying body with two angels above. One, whose hands are not covered by a cloth, helps the soul as it emerges, shown naked and clearly labeled 'anima'. The other angel hovers above, at the ready, with hands covered with a cloth and held out towards the body (see Hahn, Portrayed on the Heart, p. 81, 183, and fig. 9). Saints, however, were not bodily assumed into heaven—in fact their power very much resided in the fact that their body remained on earth. The imagery is thus not meant to be a literal depiction of an angel lifting the body of the saint to heaven, but rather a symbolic representation of their sanctity.

270 body was instantly pure and attended by angels at the moment of death, the funerary imagery combining a fully-clothed, large scale effigy with angels is not a reference to the moment of death, but rather to the moment of Resurrection. As stated in Matthew, angels will be sent to separate the wicked from the just, and will gather together the elect from all corners of the earth (Matthew 13:49 and 24:31). As displayed publicly on many large sculptured church portals and in painted scenes of the Doom, the archangel Michael weighs the souls, and other angels organize the blessed for their entry in heaven, while demons take control of their quarry destined for hell.75 Since the entombed body, which had already suffered separation from the soul, awaited only the re-awakening of the flesh, the idea that the carved angels on the tomb were meant as accompaniments at the moment of Resurrection is aptly suited to the context of the tomb. The attention of the angels thus signifies the transition from death and decay to the body's future, hoped-for, revivified state. That angels could bridge the gap between the natural and the supernatural was accepted. In Gregory the Great's writings on the Mass, at “the hour of the sacrifice, at the words of the Priest, the heavens [are] opened, and the quires of Angels are present in that mystery of Jesus Christ... high things are accomplished, with low and earthly joined with heavenly.”76 A text on the Mass by John Lydgate shows that the angels' presence was thought not only to mediate between the earthly and the 75

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The portal sculpture at St-Lazare, Autun, for example, includes angels sounding the trumpets, weighing souls, and helping the small figures who rise from the tomb. Cited in M Reeve and O Horsfall-Turner, “Mapping Space, Mapping Time: The Thirteenth-Century Vault Paintings at Salisbury Cathedral,” Antiquaries Journal 85 (2005), 82-3. The most extensive imagery of angels in English thirteenth-century cathedral churches appear on the Salisbury Cathedral choir screen and the painted vaults of the eastern transept, and on the spandrels of the Angel Choir at Lincoln. For the latter, see P Binski, “The Angel Choir at Lincoln and the Poetics of the Gothic Smile,” Art History 20 (1997), 350–374. In both churches, the angels surround the space reserved for altars and shrines. In these settings near the liturgical center of the church, the angels usually hold musical instruments or instruments of the Mass.

271 heavenly, but more specifically, to provide succor to those in pain: “And at the masse abyte and be present/ All our prayers devowtly to report/ To hym that syt above the firmament/ Sowlys in peyne they refresshe and comfort.”77 The sculptured angels do not simply guide the effigy and provide succor, they actively cense the episcopal figure. The motif was generally confined to episcopal tombs, and appeared only for a short time, roughly until the end of the thirteenth century (see chapter 2). The imagery is not directly derived from Biblical texts. The only angel with incense in John's revelation censes the altar under which lie the souls of saints (Rev. 8:34). In the writings of the ritualists, several interpretations of the use of incense arise: incense was thought to symbolize grace, to represent offerings of prayer and to help lift up that prayer, to fumigate or cleanse, and/or to drive away demons.78 From a more aesthetic standpoint, it served to create a purified, sanctified environment for prayer. Its depiction on tombs might best be explained by ritual practice. Censing of the body was performed at funerals, particularly at absolution. The Sarum rite described no fewer than nine instances of censing the body during the funeral proceedings.79 As suggested in chapter 4, censing also formed part of the anniversary ritual at the tombs of ecclesiastics. The angels on the tomb thus carry out a perpetual recreation of the one-time

77 78

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Cited in Reeve and Horsfall-Turner, n. 72. Atchley, passim, covers the evolution of the use of incense and discusses the several meanings (and justifications for its use). St Boniface and Thomas Aquinas believed it signified prayer and honor of God, and served fumigatory functions. Durandus believed that it purified, or helped to restrain demons, an application particularly useful at funerals. Atchley, 114-117 on rites in medieval funerals, citing the Sarum use. See also the appendix, which addresses rules of use in different rites. The corpse was not censed during Placebo or Dirige, but was at the Requeim Mass, after the altar was censed, then a second time before the gospel, and a third time after the Offertory. The body was censed three times at the burial service, once during three different responds. At the burial itself, the grave was censed, then again after absolution, and a final time after the first earth was thrown in. he notes however that there are some variations of this.

272 funerary service and of ongoing regular commemorative ritual.80 The incense used on these occasions served as an offering for remission of one's sins, as protection for the soul, as well as representing (or transmitting) upward prayers to God. A 1213 ordo of Siena, for example, specified that the use of incense at a tomb was in part to fumigate, but also to show that the person is “benefited by the help of” prayers.81 That the action, on the tomb, is carried out by angels rather than by earthly participants implies that the effigy is shown in the process of achieving a holy state. Artistic portrayals often depict angels censing holy figures, such as the angels in the Glasgow Psalter who hold thuribles with which to cense Mary's deceased body, or the angels on the late fourteenth-century Ayala altarpiece in the Art Institute of Chicago.82 The Last Judgment portal on the north transept at Reims cathedral illustrates the theme explicitly by displaying an angel censing the blessed as their reawakened bodies are received into heaven. The presence of censing angels suggests that episcopal bodies were considered to have the capacity for salvation, and were worthy of attention from angels.

The effigy, everlasting life, and social stratification In his revelation, John saw the saints, angels, and all of God's army dressed in pure, radiant white, and was told that those who “overcometh will wear white raiment” (Rev 3:5). Yet no known effigy portrays the deceased in plain, white raiment. Effigies, despite John's vision, illustrate the belief that distinction was maintained after the 80

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G Johnson, 105; s'Jacob, 29 and passim, both of whom also suggest they represent an eternal action rather than one single moment. Atchley, 204. A basis in ritual practice, however, does not explain why the motif would be limited to tombs of bishops. Glasgow, Hunterian Library, Ms U.3.2, fol. 5.

273 Resurrection and Judgment. In fact, John himself saw the dead, “both small and great” stand to be judged “according to their works” (Rev 20:12). The implication is that even at the end of time, a measure of particularity in both form and character was maintained, and that not all of the elect conformed to the same image. Indeed, the idea that heaven was not populated by equals seems to have been widely accepted by medieval theologians.83 One source for this way of thinking may be Paul's letter to the Corinthians, in which he compared our celestial, resurrected bodies to the stars, stating that they do not all shine with the same radiance (1 Cor 15). The concept of division within the community of saints was thus present from the earliest days of the Christian church, and was maintained through the medieval period in the text of the Mass for the dead, which incorporated the Pauline text. A wide variety of medieval works of art showed that the dead were thought to retain items of clothing and other markers of rank after the demise of the body. The Resurrection frieze spanning the west front of Wells Cathedral, completed by c.1250, shows bodies rising up from the tombs with mitres, crowns, tonsures, and other indicators of position. The many niches across the facade of Wells house the population of the ranks of heaven, all of whom bear insignia of earthly rank. On most major church portals that depict the Last Judgment, somewhere between emerging from the tomb and being assembled among the elect or the damned, the individual gets re-vested in his identifying apparel.84 Even souls, shown rising to heaven in artists' depictions, sometimes bear an

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Bynum, Resurrection, 255 and passim. To name just a few, the north transept at Reims Cathedral; the central portal on the west facade at Notre-Dame, Paris; the central portal on the south transept at Chartres Cathedral; the central portal on the west front at Poitiers. At Amiens Cathedral, the blessed are clothed, but the damned are not.

274 identifying attribute. An illumination of the death of King Edward, in the manuscript La Estoire de Seint Aedward le Rei, shows his soul, wearing a crown, exiting his mouth aided by angels. In the next scene, in which he is introduced to Christ by Saints Peter and John, his soul is full-sized and fully clothed.85 The bishop's soul carved on a twelfthcentury tomb at Ely holds a crosier as he is carried aloft by the Archangel Michael (Fig. 9). A Life of St Omer, dating to the third quarter of the eleventh century, includes a miniature which shows that at his death, he is welcomed to heaven by all the choirs of saints, comprised of archangels, prophets, apostles, martyrs, confessors and virgins, each identifiable by their apparel.86 Similarly, a view of the elect in Herrad of Hohenbourg's c. 1180 Hortus Deliciarum showed them “not as an indistinguishable mass of humanity but attired (and labeled) with the specific characteristics of their religious statuses.”87 Artists' conceptions were backed by literary descriptions of the stratified heavenly society based on visions. Mechtild of Magdeburg, in the late thirteenth century, saw in her visions of the afterlife people clearly identifiable by and grouped according to their worldly status.88 The ecclesiastical effigy, as an expression of the future, to-be-glorified body complete with all its recognizable attributes, clearly suggests retention of rank in the afterlife. The visual expression of inequality, shown through vestments and insignia, was acceptable because each individual had his/her own merits, and was to be rewarded accordingly. St. Bonaventure, in the thirteenth century, noted that God's gifts are received

85

86 87 88

CUL Ms Ee.3.59, fol. 29. Bynum, Resurrection, 10. On pp. 294-303 Bynum discusses many instances of recorded visions in which souls are shown to be corporeal and individualized, particularly through expressing rank: “Almost all early visions particularize souls by gender and religious status. There are very few that do not mention prelates or clerics as a separate group” (297). Hahn, Portrayed on the Heart, 8. Bynum, Resurrection, 119. Ibid., 297.

275 in different amounts, leading Bynum to state that “our resurrection bodies express our individuality to each other and our merit to God; the crowns stoles and dowries they bear in heaven differ as much as did their suffering, service, and status on earth.”89 Expressing on a tomb the deceased's position in life (and the afterlife) was of such importance that it went beyond the clothing and insignia on the effigy. The additional imagery that accompanied the effigy helped to reinforce the individual's position by incorporating certain meaningful visual associations that made it more appropriate to the clergy than to anyone else. A personalized niche was an extremely prominent feature on early tombs of ecclesiastics, much more so than on the tombs of their secular peers in the twelfth and thirteenth centuries.90 If the canopied niche only expressed the hope for attaining a place among the communion of saints, it ought to have appeared on a greater number of tombs, for people of all types. The idea that anyone had the potential to achieve (or could fail to achieve) everlasting life was made clear on portal sculpture from the twelfth century and later, where scenes of the Resurrection and Last Judgment depicted kings, knights, monks, and bishops alike either dragged towards the hellmouth in the devil's chains or ushered away from it by angels. The Wells front, for example, shows a cross-section of (elite) humanity, recognizable by their clothes and attributes of rank, and in Malone's interpretation, this illustrates the inclusiveness of the communion of saints: “even the simple, private believer is to be included with the saints in the

89 90

Ibid., 255. See chapter 2. A few canopies exist on a small number of exceptional thirteenth-century lay tombs, and the distinction certainly becomes less clear by the late thirteenth century, but in the first century or so of effigy development, almost all the niches were associated with ecclesiastical tombs.

276 Heavenly Jerusalem.”91 But this general desire for inclusion in the heavenly community does not explain why, in England, the canopy was a feature that on tombs tended to be reserved more for ecclesiastical patrons rather than for the laity. The relevance of the niche or canopy to the clergy lies partly in a perceived link to the Church's past, to ecclesiastical predecessors. The concept of the saints buttressing the City of God was often applied more specifically to ecclesiastical figures, despite the fact that Peter's first epistle (1 Peter 2:5) exhorts a varied audience to think of themselves as living stones. Church fathers were often referred to as part of the church fabric itself, as in Ephesians 2:19-21, in which Paul explains that the household of God is built on the foundation of the apostles and prophets, with Jesus as the cornerstone. To associate a bishop or abbot with architectural forms thus is an extension of the founding and supporting role ecclesiastical leaders held in relation to the Church.92 A visual association with the apostles would have particular significance to the clergy in their choice of selfrepresentation, and indeed, the apostles were frequently portrayed below miniature arches. Apostles stand or sit under niches on altar frontals and reliquaries, such as the reliquary of the Three Kings at Cologne made by Nicholas of Verdun.93 In monumental sculpture, the apostles often take their places under an arcade, for example on twelfth-

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Malone, 65. Honorius in the early twelfth century equated the columns of a church with bishops, whose strong example supported the organization of the church (Roberts, “Effigy of Bishop Hugh,” 79). Abbot Suger at St-Denis saw a reference to the apostles in the columns placed around the choir (Abbot Suger, On the Abbey Church of St Denis and its Art Treasures, ed. and transl. Panofsky (Princeton, 1979), 105). The reliquary of the Three Kings dates c.1190-1205. See also a twelfth-century reliquary with domed top now in the Victoria & Albert Museum, and a twelfth-century relief panel of gilded copper and enamel from Santo Domingo de Silos (illustrated in Zarnecki, Art of the Medieval World: Architecture, Sculpture, Painting, the Sacred Arts (Englwood Cliffs, NJ, 1975), 323 and 292).

277 century church lintels.94 Author portraits, i.e. representations of sainted fathers of the church, in English illuminated Biblical and patristic manuscripts frequently use this imagery.95 While the authors are depicted seated rather than standing, formal similarities exist between some of the painted architectural features above them and the sculptured niches on some of the twelfth-century tombs in England. Tombs at Peterborough (Cats. 48, 49), Ely (Fig. 9), and Avon Dassett (Cat. 38) depict above a wide arch miniature buildings with small rounded openings, ashlar masonry, and a tiled roof, as does, for example, a full-page miniature of Christ and St Peter in a c.1130 manuscript of St Anselm's prayers and meditations from St Albans Abbey.96 Rounded finials cap the roofs of the architectural arcade on the two earliest Peterborough tombs (Cats. 48, 49), and this feature also appears on some author portraits in manuscripts made in England c.1150-60, such as a manuscript of Laurence of Durham's works, made in Durham, and the portrait of Eadwine in the Eadwine Psalter, made at Canterbury.97 The relationship between recently deceased ecclesiastical leaders and the apostles is more directly expressed in the c.1100 relief panel featuring Abbot Durand (d.1071 or

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E.g. the marble lintel at St-Genis-des-Fontaines, with six apostles standing under an arcade of rounded arches. The twelfth-century lintel over the central door on the west front of Chartres Cathedral also features the apostles standing under arches of an arcade. See also a marble relief from c.1100 in StSernin, Toulouse, which illustrates an apostle with a book under a rounded niche. Manuscripts as early as the sixth-century Gospels of Saint Augustine (Cambridge, Corpus Christi College Ms 286, fol. 129v, illus. in Wormald, The Miniatures in St Augustine's Gospels (Cambridge, 1954), pl. VII), show portraits of authors seated under a niche. Thanks to Eric Ramírez-Weaver for this reference. A late eleventh-century Norman manuscript brought to England shows Saints Jerome and Eustochius seated under rounded arches supported by decorated columns with Corinthian capitals (Jerome's commentary on Isaiah, Hayward, no. 5, p. 87). Hayward, no. 19, p. 95. For Laurence of Durham, see Hayward, no. 58. The architecture comprises a segmental arch, striped columns at the sides, and central tower and two side towers. The towers have a round ball on top. The portrait of Eadwine is crowned by a rounded trefoiled arch and a rounded tower in each spandrel. The towers have ball-like finials, and the tiles of the roof are visible, as well as some narrow rounded arch windows.

278 1072) in the cloister at Moissac (Fig. 30).98 The abbot is portrayed standing under a rounded arch with simple Corinthian capitals. His arms are held out to the sides of his body, the right hand formed in a gesture of blessing and the other holding his crosier. Above him in the curve of the arch is an inscription with his name and rank (abbot of Moissac and bishop of Toulouse). In form—in low relief, frontal in pose, wearing pontifical vestments of a bishop, and standing under an arch—he is very like the effigial tomb slabs found in England and on the continent. In context, however, he forms part of a group of similar large-scale marble relief panels placed on the pillars of the cloister arcade, on which are depicted the apostles. Durand, like the apostles, is called SCS (sanctus) in the inscription and he wears a halo; he stands under the same arched surround as the apostles. In style, however, the abbot/bishop is differentiated from the apostles, particularly in the stiffness and frontality of the figure, as opposed to the turned and more fluid poses of the apostles. The difference in style must have been intentional, as a way to suggest that those on earth can aspire to the model set by the apostles, can hope to someday occupy the same space as them, without declaring equality with them. The relationship of bishop to his predecessors is expressly stated in the changeable prayers included on the occasion of a commemorative Mass for a dead bishop, as well as in part of the Office for the dead when this was said for bishops.99 The

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See on Moissac M. F. Hearn. Romanesque Sculpture: The Revival of Monumental Stone Sculpture in the Eleventh and Twelfth Centuries (Ithaca, NY, 1981); Meyer Schapiro, The Romanesque Sculpture of Moissac (NY, 1985), 7-20; Q Cazes and M Scellès, Le Cloître de Moissac (Bordeaux, 2001). The cloister was finished c.1100, as noted on an inscription on a pillar. Also at Moissac is a c.1110 gospel book with an illustration of St Matthew standing in similar arch with architectural details at the top. His arms are within the outline of his body, however (see Snyder, Medieval Art: Painting, Sculpture, Architecture, 4th-14th Century (Englewood Cliffs, NJ, 1989), fig. 383, p. 309). In the oracio, secreta, and postcommunio of the Mass (Henderson, 75*; Legg, 434), and also in the Office for the dead at Vespers (Henderson, 68*, Sarum Use; and 64, York Use).

279 prayer pleads that the deceased who was raised to the dignity of apostolic service may be joined in everlasting fellowship with the Apostles. The postcommunion prayer requests that as they numbered among those who dispensed God's gift, may they be numbered among the Elect. Extending the visual imagery associated with the apostles and other saintly precursors in the church to bishops who have recently departed this life helps reinforce the place of the bishop in a long line of priestly and saintly descent from the earliest days of the church. While foliage has been associated earlier in this chapter with concepts of the sanctified and with the possibility of salvation, this motif, like the canopied niche, appeared more frequently on ecclesiastical tombs than on tombs of the laity. The Purbeck slab on which lies King John's effigy at Worcester (Fig. 8), for example, is extremely plain, especially in contrast to the abundant foliage found on the Purbeck tomb for Bishop William de Blois (d.1236; Cat. 34) in the same church and made approximately at the same time. Like the canopied niches, foliage had direct relevance to the spiritual leaders of the Church that may help explain the exclusivity of the form. As Paul taught, leading members of the Church were expected to foster the growth of the vine. William of Malmesbury wrote of tenth-century bishops doing just that. He recounted that Dunstan, the future archbishop of Canterbury, had a vision of Ethelwold, who would later become the saintly Bishop at Winchester, in which Ethelwold “rooted out vices and planted nurseries for the growth of the virtues.” The vision consisted of a church filled with a growing tree, which spread into the heavens. Each 'leaf' was a monk's robe, and at

280 the top, protecting the others, was Ethelwold.100 Those who were leaders of the church were expected not only to cultivate their own virtues, to fully plant themselves spiritually with the Lord, but to set an example to others, to aid them to be able to partake of the tree of life in the midst of paradise (Rev 2:7). The symbol of office for bishops and abbots placed them in a long line of those charged with developing the spiritual life of the faithful. The crosier, the pastoral staff, was carved with one or many buds or leaves on the crook, and modeled after Aaron's staff, which flowered of its own accord (Numbers 17:8). Imagery of the effigy trampling a fantastical beast was also reserved for figures of bishops. It is of great importance that the choice of animal on episcopal tombs is not, for example, a phoenix, which was understood as a symbol of resurrection. Nor do the beasts represent pride or any of the deadly sins, and therefore they do not carry implications of moral allegory.101 Instead, the fantastical beast is a reference to Psalm 91:13, in which Christ tramples on the lion, dragon, adder, and basilisk. This imagery was sometimes expressed visually in trumeau sculptures depicting Christ triumphing over beasts. Bishops do not overcome the same four beasts, but instead dominate some combination of these animals. The reference, regardless, is specifically to their role as part of the Church, in the footsteps of Christ, to lead the Church to triumph over evil.

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William of Malmesbury, GP, ii, 75. Ethelwold was bishop of Winchester from 963-84. Valerie Jones, “The Phoenix and the Resurrection,” The Mark of the Beast: The Medieval Bestiary in Art, Life, and Literature, ed. D Hassig (New York, 1999), 99-115); C Brown, “Bestiary Lessons on Pride and Lust,” The Mark of the Beast, 53-70; A de Vries, Dictionary of Symbols and Imagery.

281 The effigy and contemporary resurrection theory The body has been central to western medieval thinking about salvation for many centuries, long before the twelfth century. The concept of a stratified afterlife, whether speaking of the soul in purgatory or the resurrected body among the community of saints, was also not new to the twelfth century. Likewise, the question of the form of the resurrected body, and its relationship to the earthly body, had been under debate since early Christian times. Why, then, would an image of the body on a tomb be considered so appropriate at this particular moment? Caroline Bynum has shown in her study of the literary sources that the centrality of the particular body to the process of death and revivification appears to have been of greater importance in the twelfth and thirteenth centuries than it had been in previous centuries. The starting point for theological discussion on the topic is the Pauline letter to the Corinthians, 1. Cor. 15, in which Paul described the form one might take when resurrected. Paul stated that we shall be changed, that the spiritual/celestial body will rise in glory, and will be incorrupt. Early authors such as Origen and Erigena used the metaphor of the seed to describe the generation of a new body, born after the death of the old, and formed of new material. This new form did not have to be corporeal in nature. As Origen wrote, resurrected bodies will be like those of angels, “ethereal and of a shining light.”102 The writings of John Scotus Erigena in the ninth century also demonstrate a preference for the idea of a transformed spiritual body rather than a

102

Bynum, Resurrection, 67. More generally, see ibid., pt. 1, esp. 21-63, for patristic thought on bodily resurrection.

282 material one at resurrection.103 Yet a preference for stasis, rather than change, seems to have appeared as early as the late fourth century, with the writings of, among others, Augustine of Hippo, who described the resurrected body using metaphors of a statue, building, or vessel reformed from its essential original materials, even if that material was improved in the process so as to form a new shell.104 Gregory the Great, in his Moralia in Job, argued that while change could not be denied, the resurrection of some aspect of the corporeal body would be necessary in order to maintain a link with the earthly individual, i.e. that resurrection implied a certain amount of maintaining the 'self,' corporeal as well as spiritual.105 Jesus, when resurrected, appeared to his apostles in bodily form, was recognizable to them, and ate with them. As Job foretold, the resurrected, celestial body would have a distinct corporeal aspect: “I shall rise out of the earth, and I shall be clothed again with my skin, and in my flesh I shall see my God.”106 Twelfth-century authors followed Augustine, and wrote of a process of re-forming the resurrected body from the substance of the original. Honorius’s Elucidarium, a work widely read from the twelfth to fourteenth centuries, for example, stresses the fear of decay, the particular importance of individual bodies, and the retention of difference in each body and thus of identity.107 The arguments of these authors are in an important sense about the maintenance 103 104 105

106

107

Ibid., 141-46 on John Scotus Erigena. Ibid., 94-104 on Augustine. M Smyth, “The Body, Death, and Resurrection: Perspectives of an Early Irish Theologian,” Speculum 83 (2008), 531-571 Job 19:20-27, emphasis mine. The text of Job was used in funerary liturgy, this passage in the eighth lesson of the nine lessons from Job celebrated at matins for the Office for the dead. Bynum, Resurrection, 140-52 on Honorius. Part 2 as a whole discusses the twelfth-century approaches to bodily resurrection. Bynum notes, p. 140-1, that these writers often had difficulty reconciling their own theories; Honorius, for example, wrote some early works incorporating some Erigenist ideas about the resurrected body as spiritual, alongside his scrutiny of its corporeal nature in the Elucidarium.

283 of identity through retention of corporeal form. However, it was generally agreed that the new form would not include specific elements that today we would consider essential to individuality. The blemishes, imperfections, scars, etc., would rather be smoothed over, perfected, made anew. Yet the resulting spiritual body would be largely similar to the physical body. The metaphors used by Peter the Lombard, Hugh of St-Victor and others of re-forging a glorified body from the original material, but free of its defects, illustrated this idea. Bonaventure, for example, talked of perfection, but as a sword, cleaned, or a candle, lit; in other words, we will rise particular, but cleansed.108 As a result of the improvement a body was thought to undergo at Resurrection, individual quirks and features would not be retained. The concept of a more particular corporeal resurrection apparently was cause for some dissent: it was codified by the fourth Lateran council, which in 1215 asserted in its first canon that it was heretical not to believe that “all rise with their individual bodies, that is, the bodies which they now wear.”109 Additionally, the council felt the need to confirm that God could transcend nature and make immutable the corruptible body, which is ever (on earth) in a state of flux. The physical body, then, emerged as central to the definition of the self, not just the earthly self, but also the everlasting self in the life beyond.110 108

109

110

Bynum, 121- 37 for a summary of the ideas of Peter the Lombard, and 240-1 and 247-55 for Bonaventure; Dale, “The Individual, the Resurrected Body,” 728-30 on Hugh of St-Victor and other authors using similar metaphorical imagery. Rothwell, ed., English Historical Documents, 1189-1327, vol. iii (New York, 1996), 643. Bynum, Resurrection, 154-55, notes that this indicates a formal rejection of Erigenist ideas. Bynum, Resurrection, 135 and in pt. 3, points out that while the relationship of body to self was an important topic throughout the later Middle Ages, around 1300, and beginning with Thomas Aquinas, there was a new emphasis on the role of the soul in maintaining identity, and on the nature of the bodysoul nexus at Resurrection. Additionally, there was revision and refinement of the concept of the body as a reassembled statue, as a result of the notion that true identity existed in the soul rather than the container, or the body. The debate in the 1330s over whether or not the soul, after purgatory, could achieve the beatific vision also brought into question the need for the bodily resurrection at all. See on

284 Was the effigy inspired by such developments in theological discourse? It is highly suggestive that effigy carving flourished at the precise moment during which stronger emphasis on the corporeality of the resurrected body was entering into theological discourse. While there is no known proof that discussion at the schools and universities had an impact on the forms of tombs that were produced in a mason's workshop, the fact that in England the earliest patrons of the effigy were members of the higher clergy makes a connection between form and theory tempting to consider. Many of these leading prelates would have been privy to such discussions through their study at the universities and cathedral schools, through synods and written commentaries, and through their contacts with other high-ranking ecclesiastics. The renewed emphasis on materiality of the body was not confined to the resurrected body. It permeated devotion at the highest levels of the church, as with the declaration of the doctrine of Transubstantiation in 1215, and at the popular level, where images of devotional figures were thought to channel the presence of the divine, and devotional practice increasingly incorporated bodily sensation. The notion, therefore, that an effigy might have been a result of contemporary theories about resurrection and salvation circulating among the patrons is sustainable. But asserting that currents of thought at the highest intellectual levels had direct causal influence on artistic production is always problematic. Philosophical discussions of the topic were complex and changeable, as Bynum’s work shows, while the imagery of the effigy remained comparatively static. Additionally, making a direct correspondence between effigy and textual discussions of the glorified body in the twelfth century is this Bynum, Resurrection, 279-317.

285 difficult because a non-specific image of a person was the artistic norm, no matter what the context. As Dale and Stephen Perkinson have shown, medieval artists and patrons were not interested in artistic portrayal of the 'individual' in the modern (or Renaissance) sense, in which distinction or uniqueness is highly valued.111 Dale's study on Romanesque portraiture proposed that “the absence of “individualized” faces should be viewed not so much as the failure of medieval artists to master verisimilitude as the failure of modern commentators to understand that Romanesque portraitists were responding to a different set of expectations in which the individual was quite deliberately cast as type, and standardized facial features were valued as the means of revealing the God-given virtue and reason of the individual.”112 Stephen Perkinson conducted a study of the literary use of the words contrefaire and portraiture. Contrary to modern uses of the terms, to 'portrait' someone in the twelfth and thirteenth centuries meant to find the essence of that being, a process which did not necessarily entail physiognomic likeness. 'Contrefaire,' which did involve some level of mimesis of the physical attributes of the person, was considered a pursuit of lesser importance.113 The reproduction of an exact likeness of a person was not seen as adequately expressing his or her true nature. Caroline Bynum, too, cautioned that the ways in which we today would 111

112

113

Dale, “Romanesque Sculpted Portraits”; Perkinson, “Rethinking the Origins of Portraiture”; idem, The Likeness of the King. In the latter, Perkinson's introduction and first chapter provide a useful discussion of the problems of defining 'portraiture' in the Middle Ages, as well as a summary of the scholarship on medieval portraiture to date. Perkinson then investigates reasons for the greater interest in personalization of images in the specific context of the court of the fourteenth century; he is curious about what circumstances changed in order to allow for this new interest c.1400. See also Holladay, “Portrait Elements in Tomb Sculpture,” and Binski, Medieval Death, 102-112. Dale, “Romanesque Sculpted Portraits,” 101. Both Dale and Perkinson restore intentionality to the conventionalized medieval image, but Dale's attempt in his earlier article to assign specific meaning to the conventional form based on its funerary context (i.e. that in this context the use of convention was a specific choice meant to project the idea of a resurrected, glorified body) is less convincing. Perkinson, Likeness of the King, 49-61.

286 assert and express individuality are not necessarily what medieval thinkers thought was important to emphasize.114 Her investigation into literary sources of the period suggests that although greater introspection and self-awareness indeed seems to have been a twelfth-century development, this introspection resulted not in the emergence of greater individuality or uniqueness, but in a desire for conformity to an ideal exemplar. Twelfthcentury thinkers saw themselves as made in the image of God, and as returning to that divine perfection at the end of time, a goal achieved by conforming one's behavior to that of a divine model, Christ. Dale's study on the tomb of Rudolf of Swabia, building on Bynum's work on the resurrection, suggests that the non-specific nature of the effigy was an intentional choice that dovetailed neatly with metaphorical discussions in the twelfth century of the body as being perfected, the details and defects smoothed away. 115 Dale argues that the conventionalized effigy is a representation of an individual who has been conformed to the divine exemplar and now displays its post-resurrection, glorified, perfected body. In a similar vein, Badham suggested that, “the faces on monuments were intended to convey, not an ephemeral likeness to the living person, but the eternal sanctity of his soul.”116 The problem with such an assertion is that images of individuals in other contexts were generic or idealized, whether they were figures in portal sculpture, donor images in

114

115 116

Bynum, “Did the twelfth century discover the individual?” Bynum was responding in part to Colin Morris, who in his 1972 work The Discovery of the Individual, 1050-1200 proposed that the twelfth century saw a deeper exploration of 'self' than had been carried out in earlier centuries. Morris was countering the traditional idea that individuality was an 'invention' of the Renaissance, and that increasingly veristic portraits, as seen more commonly from the fifteenth century, were the artistic result of greater interest in individuality. Ariès also saw more of an emphasis on a private, personal fate at this period in his broad cultural study of death. Dale, “The Individual, the Resurrected Body.” Badham, “Status and Salvation,” 429.

287 stained glass or manuscripts, an official representation on personal seals, or sculpture on a tomb. Depicting a bishop with a conventionalized face, a standing, blessing pose, and dressed in episcopal vestments with full insignia was standard artistic practice. If lack of specificity was standard for medieval imagery of the person in all contexts, not just a funerary one, can we say that an image of a 'generic' bishop on a tomb had special meaning related specifically to the form of the resurrected body? While certainly on some level an effigy may have been understood this way, the foregoing analysis has suggested that the imagery may offer a broader range of meanings than a straightforward depiction of the corporeal, resurrected, sanctified body. The body as depicted in effigy, despite its rich materials and other-worldly niche and foliage, is not yet assimilated to the saints. Inscriptions do not refer to them this way, nor are they shown wearing halos. Care was taken to maintain a visual distinction between the shrine of a saint and the tomb of a bishop, in part by avoiding the use of a recumbent effigy at English saints' shrines. But the powerful visual association with the apostles and saints implies the possibility that they, like their precursors, might be recognized among the sanctified. Indeed, the imagery of the effigy seems less about being in a redeemed, sanctified state than about expressing a desire to obtain it. When seen in this light, asking whether or not the effigy shows a 'perfected' individual, or expresses what is retained of the inner self's identity once assimilated to the saints, seems a little out of place, even perhaps a little premature. First, one must get there. Rather than interpreting the effigy as a medieval conception of the resurrected self, we should perhaps see the effigy as a product of strategic choices made to represent that self in a certain way, for, ultimately, salvific purposes.

288 The effigy, remembrance, and redemption I wish here to return to the question posed at the beginning of the chapter of whether or not the effigy may have had any useful function in terms of redemption and remembrance. In Badham's discussion of status and salvation on memorial brasses, her evidence for the tomb's goal of salvation is mainly limited to inscriptions exhorting passersby to prayer rather than to any imagery of the body. The body, in her estimation, primarily serves to express status.117 An essay by Saul notes that imagery of patron saints and sacred symbols on brasses adds to the tomb's salvific aspects. The contrast between Saul's essay, which discusses religious symbolic imagery and requests for prayer on secular brasses, and another essay in the same volume on secular effigies that mentions nothing of the sort, reinforces the notion that an image of the body might not be a direct or effective vehicle for expressing a patron's religious motivation.118 Morganstern made a direct correlation between a tomb and the function of stimulating prayer when she suggested that the heraldry on certain tombs roughly follows the names of those who were to be prayed for as part of the chantry foundation, and therefore that the tomb served as a useful memory device for the chaplain. However, in her analysis, the heraldry, not the effigy, is the active component that helps the soul attain its goals.119 Geraldine Johnson does talk about the effigy as having a direct role in prompting

117 118

119

Badham, “Status and Salvation.” Saul, “Bold as Brass,” and B and M Gittos, “Motivation and Choice,” Heraldry, Pageantry, and Social Display. The volume's editors on p. 14 point out this very discrepancy between effigies and brasses. But how much is our 'secular' view of effigies skewed due to the loss of additional imagery? See also Bertram, “Orate Pro Anima”; Cameron, “Incised Tournai Brasses;” and Rogers, “'Et expecto resurrectionem mortuorum'” for other discussions of religious imagery on brasses. Morganstern, “The Tomb as Prompter for the Chantry.”

289 prayer in her discussion of the c.1427 effigy of Bishop Pecci of Siena.120 This effigy, placed directly west of the high altar, was in such a location that when the celebrant turned at key moments in the Mass to cense the choir and people, the effigy was included, as was, by proxy, the deceased bishop. The effigy's placement, and the choice to design it as a dead figure lying on a bier, allowed the present-day celebrant essentially to re-create the funerary Mass for the bishop on a daily basis. This example is an unusual one, but it stems from a desire, seen at a much earlier date in English episcopal tombs, to be close to an altar, and thereby be included in the prayers said there. It seems to me that the concept of visual presence is crucial to understanding the choice to have an effigy. A three-dimensional, full-sized and (probably) fully colored image of the body, particularly before the effigy became such a widely popular form, would have functioned as a forceful, tangible, and entirely unavoidable reminder of that person's existence. In discussing the power of images of Christ and the saints, Hamburger suggests that beyond the rationale for the use of images offered by Pope Gregory and others (i.e. the ratio triplex, images as instructional, or a prompt for memory, or a way of arousing emotion), images of a person recall the subject's presence in a very direct way.121 In the same vein, Ellert Dahl argued that with body-part reliquaries, the container itself made the relics more immediate to the worshiper.122 In Barbara Drake Boehm's overview of scholarship on body-part reliquaries, she cautions that we should not

120 121

122

Johnson, “Activating the Effigy.” See essays by J Hamburger in The Mind’s Eye: Art and Theological Argument in the Medieval West, ed. Hamburger and Bouché (Princeton, 2005); idem, “Visible, Yet Secret: Images as Signs of Friendship in Seuse,” Oxford German Studies 36, no. 2 (2007), 151. Dahl, “Heavenly Images.” This, whether or not the image was directly associated with the object within the reliquary.

290 underestimate the affective power of a life-sized, colored and bejeweled sculpture.123 The relationship between likeness and presence has been explored by Belting, Dahl, and Dale, most often in terms of the presence of saints as communicated through their icons or reliquaries.124 Color added to devotional images was thought to make worship more personal and tangible, even to the point of being dangerously idolatrous. Effigies may have been no less strikingly vivid, and the insertion of a carved and painted threedimensional representation of the individual on a tomb no doubt enhanced in a dramatic fashion the 'presence' of the departed individual, particularly if it lay in conjunction with the remains of that person. Emphasizing the presence of the deceased may have had an important result in increased attention paid to it by those who were living. Sally Badham recognized that polychromy was an element crucial in terms of prompting remembrance and, especially, intercessory prayer. As she stated, “Monuments, including floor slabs, would have been viewed in a similar way [as devotional images], with polychromed figures helping to remind the Christian faithful of the person for whom they were praying.”125 Increasing the possibility of prayer by enhancing personal presence was one avenue towards the ultimate goal of redemption. Besides serving as an effective reminder to a viewer of the need to pray for an individual, the imagery of an ecclesiastical effigy comprised a sort of personal propaganda. The sculptural imagery chosen expresses in a visual way the worthiness of

123 124

125

Boehm, “Body Part Reliquaries: The State of Research,” Gesta 36:1 (1997), 8-19, esp. 14. Belting, Likeness and Presence; Dale, “Romanesque Sculpted Portraits,” 111-114; Dahl, “Heavenly Images.” Oexle, “Memoria und Memorialbild,” also discussed the effigy and presence. Badham, “'A new feire peynted stone,'” 49.

291 the deceased for inclusion in heaven. The effigy, with its angels, canopy, and foliage, expressed hope for future salvation in a general sense, but more importantly asserted the ecclesiastic's place in a saintly apostolic lineage. The highlighting of the sacerdotal privileges formerly held by the deceased through the display of vestments and insignia, as outlined earlier in the chapter, thus makes sense as a way to position the individual to his best spiritual advantage for the coming judgment. The gesture of blessing symbolized the prelate's special privilege to confer God's benediction on others. Proclaimed more noticeably than dynastic and political associations, even in later episcopal tombs where heraldry is more in evidence, was the individual's membership in the 'family' of church leaders. More specifically, the effigy and its attending imagery provided visual associations with their saintly and apostolic precursors in the Church. Concepts of future sanctity and vocation here mingle, so that the sculpture is a marker not only of the position held in life, but also of the position hoped to be held after death. These two concepts were related. The clergy believed they were closer to God and the saints than were the laity, due to their own spiritual devotion as well as their pastoral vocation, as intermediary, to cultivate the spiritual lives of those living in their cure. As shown by their blessing gesture, bishops were intermediaries between the general population and the will of God, and they had the power to transmit the word of God. A shift in practice over the twelfth and thirteenth centuries towards preventing the general public from sharing the blood of Christ at the Eucharist helped reinforce the clergy's more exclusive position. The late twelfth and thirteenth centuries in England produced a number of sainted episcopal leaders which may have further provided advantage in

292 displaying one's sacerdotal role.126 Depicting vocation and aligning themselves with models of virtuous patriarchs was thus particularly important because it served to place ecclesiastics closer to salvation. Their future state in heaven was in part predicated on their dedication to their vocation. The body, as portrayed in effigy, was not just a hopeful expression of achieving salvation, but expressed a possible means to salvation. Just as saints were thought to preserve their bodily scars in heaven, the imagery of an effigy retains the markers that make one physically recognizable but which also are the proof of one's personal devotion to God and one's worthiness of redemption. The effigy expresses through corporeal means all that was thought to be useful for obtaining a place among the saints.

126

Binski, Becket's Crown, 84, on the new style of sainthood, primarily episcopal, “defined by tough intellectual disciplines....”

293 Conclusion

The foregoing study of strategies for commemoration employed by leading ecclesiastics in England, leading up to and focusing on the years c.1150 to 1300, has identified concerns and preferences of an influential class of patrons that in England established, among other things, the trend for an effigy on a tomb. From the late thirteenth century, funerary monuments commissioned by the elite were often physically imposing, sculpturally elaborate, and costly. The late-medieval effigy, particularly when paired with heraldry, which came into widespread use on tombs in the fourteenth century, seems to proclaim above all else the social situation of the deceased. Indeed, it is the deceased's social position that is most often stressed in scholarship on late medieval tombs. Yet the evidence suggests that the ecclesiastical tombs that in England paved the way for such prominent visual display resulted from a need to guarantee in perpetuity intercessory prayer that was believed efficacious in the quest for salvation of the soul. In investigating the circumstances that surrounded the early stages of development of the sumptuous funerary monuments that became so popular among the elite in late medieval England, the study establishes the leading role of ecclesiastics in introducing and/or fostering certain practices of commemoration. From an earlier date than is typically recognized, as shown in chapter 1, leaders of religious communities sought burial not near the remains of a saint, but near an altar, where the holiness of the altar's relics were combined with the powerful sacrament of the Mass. Both were considered effective palliatives for those undergoing the purification process in purgatory. The study

294 in chapter 3 of the more practical aspects of how a bishop arranged for burial marked by a physical, visible monument in a church demonstrates that a burial place near an altar seems to have been of great concern to the bishop, even though the bishop's preferences were necessarily subject to the cathedral chapter's own needs and preferences. Obtaining a desired spot in the church necessitated a process of diplomacy and compromise between the bishop and the chapter, but the very fact of this compromise demonstrates the high level of importance such considerations held for both parties. Ongoing care for the burial place was entrusted by the deceased to the chapter, a perpetual corporate body whose care would (theoretically) outlast any care provided by family members or friends. The arrangements made for commemorative prayers also demonstrate the clergy's concern for the longevity of acts of remembrance; they aimed for remembrance maintained not just in a survivor's memory, but in perpetuity by the institution and by those who would come along in future generations. By the twelfth century, as chapter 4 shows, the higher clergy acted on a perceived need to ensure regular ongoing commemoration by making financial arrangements, often extensive, with religious institutions for commemorative prayer. As with making arrangements for burial in the church, perpetual commemoration required a collaborative relationship, and often compromise, with the members of the religious community. The fact that many of these transactions were made and approved long before death, and often long before details of the burial and tomb were worked out, shows their relative importance to the bishop. While today the tomb stands as the primary extant evidence for commemoration, the more ephemeral aspects of ritual having long since died away, the evidence presented in

295 chapter 4 makes clear that the tomb was only one aspect of much more extensive arrangements for celebrations which were hoped to aid the deceased to attain redemption. One might go so far as to suggest that the tomb was secondary to the ritual. Commemorative ritual could (and did) occur without a physical tomb nearby. Yet the documentary and physical evidence from the twelfth century and into the thirteenth suggests that leading members of the church were securing perpetual prayer at the same time that they were commissioning tombs that were more visually prominent, and more strategically located within the church. The tomb's primary purpose, at least at these early stages, seems to have been to promote the ritual, and to provide a focus for it. As I conclude in chapter 4, the tomb sometimes played a very direct role in commemorative ritual, as a physical focus for candles, incense, the pall, and similar accompaniments to anniversary celebrations and Requiem Masses. The physical monument also drew visitors who would be rewarded with indulgences for saying prayers on behalf of the deceased at the tomb. Inscriptions might request prayers from passersby. In these ways, the tomb attracted pre-arranged prayers from the religious community as well as additional prayers from visitors. The form of the tomb, the physical, tangible object designed to represent that individual, can be understood as a product of this need to enhance perpetual prayer. Although, as I point out in chapter 1, raised tombs were erected for especially revered ecclesiastical leaders long before the twelfth century, the twelfth century saw a more widespread desire for visibility in memorials. Remembrance through prayer could be aided by a variety of forms, at first by raised rectangular tomb chests, perhaps with a

296 coped lid, or maybe with an inscription, then, in the mid-twelfth century, by the innovative adoption of the effigy, a conventionalized image meant to represent the deceased. As discussed in chapter 2, the clergy actively embraced the use of a funerary effigy that was becoming popular in Europe, and developed a certain consistency of iconography before the form was picked up by non-ecclesiastical patrons in England. An effigy at first glance suggests an insertion of the personal into sacred space, and perhaps a concern with status rather than with salvation. Yet the close analysis of the imagery of the ecclesiastical effigy in chapter 5 suggests that the effigy, even with its clear demonstration of status, arose from the same motivations that inspired the choice of burial near an altar or perpetual anniversary celebrations. Its iconography expresses hope for, and perhaps was thought helpful to the process of attaining, spiritual repose. The effigy exists alongside imagery of the canopy, of foliage, and of angels, that together situate the figure in an otherworldly setting. Although usually shown alive, the effigy is not an image of the deceased as he had been in life. Specific, individualized portraiture in the modern sense was not a concern of medieval sculptors or patrons, and commemoration did not require details of the deceased's life, his experiences and achievements, or his physiognomy. Affection, loss, or other emotions did not have a place on these ecclesiastical tombs. The body depicted is not of this world, but of the world to come. The effigy, shown whole and in sumptuous, colored materials suggestive of glorification, permanence, and life, demonstrates confidence in future bodily resurrection and hope for eventual spiritual redemption. The most ‘biographical’ information conveyed about the deceased by the effigy is

297 his professional position as bishop. The effigy wore vestments and episcopal insignia, and, often, rank was stated in inscriptions on the tomb. His high status is also made clear by the simple fact of having the financial wherewithal to erect such a monument. But the City of God was thought to be as socially stratified as earthly society, and indeed, on the early ecclesiastical tombs with effigies, status appears to have been employed as a tool for expressing one's worthiness of heaven. The stance of the effigy stresses the spiritual, pastoral role of the bishop above all else. The right hand is raised in blessing, and the effigy often tramples a beast, representing evil, below its feet. The specific combination of episcopal effigy with a canopy, foliage, beasts and angels is exclusive in two ways. Among the English tombs surviving from c.1150-c.1300, the imagery was reserved for tombs of ecclesiastics rather than the laity. It also was reserved for funerary use rather than for images of a bishop in other contexts. As shown in chapter 5, the iconography relates the deceased to a long lineage of apostolic and saintly precursors, and visually places him as (hopeful) heir to them. The reservation of the imagery of apostolic descent for the funerary context suggests that achievement of a certain status in this life was thought helpful in making a case for redemption. Status was not seen as at odds with the concept of salvation, but rather was recast to the deceased's spiritual advantage. The full size, color, and strategic position of the effigy provided a much greater immediacy to those who prayed for the deceased, particularly as it implied a direct relationship to the body in the coffin below. Evidently there was a perceived need not simply for an increased variety and frequency of prayer for the deceased, but also for a tomb type that was visibly prominent and drew one's attention. An effigy states, in a

298 public manner, that the deceased is present, is hoping for, and (through its specific imagery) is worthy of salvation. A dual audience is implied in this development: those on earth who would see the effigy and be inspired to pray in remembrance, and God himself. In the twelfth and early thirteenth centuries, the ephemeral prayer and rituals and the physical tomb design and location worked in conjunction to present the deceased in the most advantageous manner, in order to encourage remembrance, and to petition for God's mercy and redemption.

299 List of Abbreviations

Ann. Mon. BAACT BE BL Bodl CIA CUL ECA ECL EDC EEA EH GP Hayward JBAA LCL LPL LSA RCHME RSO WANHS VCH

Annales Monastici, ed. Luard British Archaeological Association Conference Transactions The Buildings of England, Harmondsworth: Penguin Books British Library, London Bodleian Library, Oxford Courtauld Institute of Art, London Cambridge University Library, Cambridge Exeter Cathedral Archives, Exeter Exeter Cathedral Library, Exeter Ely Dean and Chapter Archives, CUL English Episcopal Acta. London: Published for the British Academy by Oxford University Press, 1980-. Bede, Ecclesiastical History William of Malmesbury, Gesta Pontificum Anglorum English Romanesque Art, 1066-1200: Hayward Gallery Journal of the British Archaeological Association Lichfield Cathedral Library, Lichfield Lambeth Palace Library, London London Society of Antiquaries Royal Commission on the Historical Monuments of England Rich Jones, Registrum Sancti Osmundi Wiltshire Archaeological and Natural History Society Victoria County Histories

300 Select Bibliography Manuscript sources Cambridge, Cambridge University Library EDC 4/6/7 EDC 4/6/5 EDC 14/9 Canterbury, Canterbury Cathedral Archives ChAnt/E/19 Devizes, Wiltshire Archaeological and Natural History Society Library (WANHS) Volume I Volume O Volume S Exeter, Exeter Cathedral Archives P/2/1 P/2/31 Ms 3579 (Chapter Act Book) doc. 4708 doc. 4038 Exeter, Exeter Cathedral Library D&C MS 3549E Lichfield, Lichfield Cathedral Library Ms Lich 34, Erdeswicke, Sampson “View of Staffordshire containing the Antiquities of the same county” written from 1593-1603 Ms Lich 22, Greene, Richard, “A traditional account of some things remarkable in the Cathedral Church of Lichfield from a MS supposed to be written by Dr Stukely about the year 1715.” Lichfield, LJRO LJRO D30/6/1/12 LJRO D30/6/2/56 London, British Library Add Ms 42008, 42009, 42013, 42010, 42011, 42012 Add Ms 29925, 29926, 29931, 29932, 29939, 29943 Add Ms 17733 Add Ms 71474 Add Ms 5842, 6732, 6753, 6754, 6757B

301 Add Ms 9461 Add Ms 27349, 37350 Cotton Nero D.II Cotton Vespasian D.IX Harley Ms 636 Harley Ms 1366 Kings Top 43 Lansdowne Ms 213 London, College of Arms MS C.36 MS “Yorkshire Arms” London, Society of Antiquaries “Sepulchral Monuments British Isles,” uncatalogued boxes arranged by county Oxford, Bodleian Library Gough Maps 32, 221, 222, 224, 225, 226, 228 Ms Ashmole 770, 794, 853, 864, 865 Ms Willis 38, 45, 46, 47 Ms Dodsworth 161 Ms Top Yorks C.14 Ms Dugdale 39 York, York Minster Archives Ms LI (7) Add MS 43 336/0S ******* Printed sources Addison, Charles. History of the Knights Templars. London, 1842. Andersson, A. English Influence in Norwegian and Swedish Figure Sculpture in Wood, 1220-1270. Stockholm, 1949. Anderson, Freda. “The Tournai Marble Sculptures of Lewes Priory.” Sussex Archaeological Collections 122 (1984): 85-100. _________. “The Tournai marble tomb-slabs in Salisbury Cathedral.” Medieval Art and Architecture at Salisbury Cathedral, BAACT, ed. L Keen and T Cocke. London: British Archaeological Association, 1996.

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328 Appendix I: Catalogue of Extant Episcopal Tombs with Effigies Grouped by church and alphabetized by town name

CANTERBURY Canterbury is surprisingly lacking in thirteenth-century archiepiscopal tombs. Tombs of only three thirteenth-century archbishops were constructed in the cathedral. Of these, two are non-effigial, one (for Hubert Walter) an unusual tomb chest with hipped lid, and the other (for Stephen Langton) a tapered coffin with low-relief foliate cross on the lid. Although effigial tombs became standard at Canterbury in the fourteenth and fifteenth centuries, the first to appear in the church was the late-thirteenth century tomb of Archbishop Pecham. Cat. 1 Current location: North wall of northwest transept, near martyrdom and door to cloister Identification: Archbishop Pecham (d.1292) Measurements: Length of wooden slab, 223 cm; length of Purbeck slab, 239 cm (the approximate width of the niche opening); width of wooden slab, 66 cm at top and bottom. From the wood slab, the effigy raises 34.5 cm to highest (surviving) point (his right hand). Deepest drapery ridge is approx. 6 cm. Length of effigy, 192 cm. Height of wooden slab, 6 cm; height of Purbeck slab, 10 cm; height of chest, 72.5 cm, plus a molding at bottom of approx. 12 cm. Major features: Oak effigy on a rectangular freestone chest set within a large gabled wall niche. The effigy rests on an oak slab, which in turn rests on a Purbeck slab topping a freestone

329 chest.1 Some wood missing from the robes near his feet, over his right leg, reveals that the effigy is hollow at that point. The effigy is currently highly polished, with no remaining evidence of paint, although remnants of paint on the effigy were recorded in the early nineteenth century.2 Regular indentations in the archbishop's robes suggest the former presence of colored imitation gemstones. The canopy formerly around his head is missing; three small now-filled rectangular mortices where it was attached are visible at the top of the slab. A large rectangle on the southwest edge of the slab has also been replaced, extending from the middle of the pillow to the west edge of the slab. Other than these marks on the slab, no sign of the canopy survives.3 The presence of a colonnette along the south side of the figure is suggested by the space available on the slab, the small mortices either side of the pillows and towards the bottom of the slab, and the remnant of carved ?leaves overlapping the chamfered edge at the southeast corner of the slab. The north side of the figure is set too closely to the wall to allow for a colonnette on that side. The archbishop's head rests on two tall pillows, the upper of which is set diagonally. The front part of the mitre has been removed, leaving the mortice behind.4 He is clean-shaven, and has curly hair at the ears and across the forehead. His right hand, now broken, stands free from the rest of the figure, raised in a gesture of blessing. The 1

2

3

4

Wilson, “Medieval Monuments,” 462, n.43, wonders if the original plan might have been for a brass on the Purbeck slab. By DT Powell, BL Add Ms 17733, fol. 5. According to Wilson, Powell visited Canterbury between c.1795 and 1835. It might be possible to narrow the time further: Powell was in Rochester after 1825 and may have visited nearby Canterbury at the same time. The rectangular replacement in the southwest corner near the pillow is 37 cm long and 10 cm wide. The round mortices are .9 cm diameter, 6 and 11 cm eastwards from replaced section (i.e. near the eastern half of the pillow). Additionally, the northwest corner of the slab is broken off. This is due to intentional intervention rather than accidental damage. A Gardner, 218, and Wilson, “Medieval Monuments,”464, n.50, suggested that the front part of the mitre might have been metal.

330 left hand must have held a crosier or archiepiscopal cross, but nothing of this survives. The crosier or staff was almost completely freestanding from the body, with supports in only two places: the hand, and presumably the place near the left knee where a large section of wood has been removed.5 The staff would have traveled down the left side of the body rather than crossing over it. The feet seem to have rested on a pair of beasts. One looked south, his face now missing, but two front claws are clearly discernible. A similarly shaped lump of wood is on the north side, suggesting that a second beast faced north. The archbishop's amice has evenly spaced round indentations for a jeweled effect. At his neck is a morse, carved in low relief, as is the pallium/orphrey which drapes over the shoulders and down the front of the body. There are also indentations for applied ornament along the borders of the chasuble, visible at the bottom edge and at the sides of the garment along his sleeve and where it falls from his arm. The chasuble is extremely long, and rests over the top of a dalmatic, tunicle, and long alb which breaks into folds across the tops of his feet. The garments fall down the front of the body in irregular undulations, the cloth softly pouting away from the body in curved or gently u-shaped pouches, three of which are considerably larger than the others. The drapery falls into deep, complicated ridges of overlapping cloth at either side of the body where the garments react to the figure's raised arms. The tomb chest features nine small-scale figures of bishops, each under a trefoiled arch and gabled canopy adorned with crockets and a finial. The projecting moldings on the miniature niches are painted a blue or green color (with specks of red?), while the 5

The piece of removed wood on the north side near the knees is 14 cm long.

331 recessed interstices are painted red. Crockets and finials are in gold, and the ground above the gables and within each trefoiled arch is blue. Pilasters flank each miniature niche just as they flank the larger mural arch of the tomb. The miniature bishops are depicted with slightly differently styled vestments and slightly different gestures, creating a certain amount of variety at the minute level. The bishops on the tomb chest are accompanied by eight others on the pilasters at either side of the mural arch. Three niches with bishops are arranged in vertical tiers on the south pilaster face on either side of the arch, and an additional niche with bishop is on the inner face of each pilaster, for a total of seventeen. These miniature bishops, particularly the westernmost one in the lowest niche of the pilaster which has the same pouting folds down the front and deep curves in the cloth below the arms, are generally in the style of the wooden effigy. A crocketed gable surmounts a pointed arch, with cinquefoiled inner molding. Each lobe has further trefoiled cusping. The above-mentioned pilasters flank either side of the opening. Along the pointed arch curl grape leaves and bunches of grapes evenly spaced and joined by a continuous stem. The same motif is also used on the molding of the surmounting gable. A large sexfoiled and molded medallion featuring a large foliate rosette crowns the pointed arch just under the peak of the gable. The painted decoration uses the same color scheme as the miniature niches of the tomb chest, variations in red, gold and blue/green. The crockets and vine leaves are gilded, the ground is blue or green, and moldings are gold, red and/or blue/green. The upper tier of the pilasters, above the three inhabited trefoiled niches, has a miniature niche with blind tracery of paired trefoiled lancets surmounted by a quatrefoil. The pilasters are flat at the top, although this

332 was surely not the original design.6 The masonry of the wall around the mural arch is quite damaged, though this could have occurred during the original insertion of the arch shortly after 1292. The eastern pilaster is encroached upon by the adjacent monument to Archbishop Warham, so that several of the miniature bishops on the pilaster on that side are missing. There is no evidence of wall painting on the back or sides of the mural arch, though there is plenty of space to accommodate a painted scene. History, identification and scholarship: There is no evidence that the tomb is not in its original position, though in the past there has been misidentification in part due to doubt that the wooden effigy belonged with this architectural surround. Medieval sources are unusually plentiful regarding the location of Pecham's burial. A record cited by Wharton says that his burial was “in parte equilonari, juxta locum Martyrii beati Thomae Martyris.”7 The early fourteenth-century “Polistorie” described the tomb as being in the martyrdom, and a list of archbishops' burial places from the early sixteenth century confirms the location and states that Pecham's tomb was in the wall.8 His heart was buried at Greyfriars, as noted in a late medieval burial list there.9 Leland, writing c.1540, also attributed the tomb to Pecham. Despite very clear notices of burial place in medieval and early post-medieval documentation, the tomb by 1601 was associated with the interment of Archbishop 6

7 8

9

Gee, “Ciborium Tombs,” 35, suggested that they once may have had an angel atop each rather than a gabled pinnacle. Wharton, vol. I, 117. BL Ms Harl 636, fol. 221, records that Pecham “fust enterre de coste le lyu ou Sei't Thomas fust martirize”; Corpus Christi College MS 298, fols. 111r-111v, states that both Ufford and Pecham were buried in the martyrdom, but that Pecham's was in the wall, “in pariete.” Wilson, “Medieval Monuments,” 459.

333 Ufford, who had died in 1348 before being officially consecrated as archbishop. So said Godwin in 1601, and so said the lieutenant from Norwich in 1635, who recorded that in the martyrdom, he “found the Monument of Archbishop Warham... / Also Archbishop Ufford his statue in wood... these 2 lye sleeping under that faire rich window there...”, in other words, in the north wall of the transept.10 The Lieutenant, like Godwin, did not mention a tomb for Pecham. The lieutenant was probably repeating what he saw on a plaque erected by the cathedral chapter, as Somner in 1640 noted that he thought the plaque placed there was incorrect: “I feare the Author of the Tables hath done him [Pecham] some wrong in hanging Archbishop Ufford’s Table upon that which (I take it) is rather Peckham’s tombe then [sic] his, that namely in the Corner of the martyrdome next unto Warham, which the Table-writer upon (it seems) Bishop Godwin’s conjecture, takes for granted to be Ufford’s tombe. But (as I conceive) the cost bestowed on that monument (however the Archiepiscopall effigies which it hath is framed of wood) being built somewhat Pyramis-like, and richly overlaid with gold, which is not yet worn off, gainsayes it to be Uffords. For I reade, that dying before he [Ufford] was fully Archbishop, having never received either his pall or consecration, and that in the time of the great plague… his body without any pomp or wonted solemnity was carried to Canterbury and there secretly buried by the North-wall, beside the wall of Thomas Becket.”11 The misattribution to Ufford may in part have been due to the fact that several

10 11

Godwin, 78 and 92; BL Lansdowne Ms 213, fols. 351b-354. Somner, 256.

334 historians believed that the effigy and the niche did not belong together.12 Scarlett's notes on Canterbury written after 1646 attribute the niche to Ufford, though the many deletions and insertions in the description indicate some uncertainty.13 He described in a separate paragraph the wooden effigy, which he thought belonged to a separate monument: “In the Chapell of St Thomas Beckett, a pon the monument of John Ufford, is layed a verye old monument of a bishopp, wth his myter on his head, curyouslye cutt in hard oke and remayneth sound and good: but from whens he was brought thither I knowe not. He lyeth loose a pon the top of the marble ston....” He suggested the effigy was for Archbishop Stigand.14 The fact that the wooden effigy was lying loose on the stone tomb chest was also noted by Hasted c.1800: “It seems singular that this figure should be left so exceedingly plain, when all the rest of the monument is profusely painted and gilt, and that it should not be fixed to the rest of the tomb, but be moveable. This has made some suppose, that it never originally belonged to it, but was a figure placed occasionally over the grave of any deceased archbishop, immediately after his interment, and remained there till his gravestone or monument was ready for it.”15 In the eighteenth century, the tomb was firmly attributed to Pecham rather than Ufford, but Gostling's remarks in the 1770s still reveal an uncertainty about the antiquity of the oak figure.16

12

13 14

15 16

Morris, 1890, gave a summary of the scholarship on the tomb, and is particularly useful regarding the early sources, though he seems not to have noticed that there was confusion over the effigy versus the stone chest and surround. For example, Morris said that by Hasted’s time, historians had become aware the tomb is Pecham’s, but he did not mention the doubt Hasted shows about the effigy. BL Harley Ms 1366, fols. 12v to 14r. Scarlett's comments were also printed in Morris, 1890. BL Harley Ms 1366, fols. 18r and v. He later corrected this theory by crossing it out and adding “Stygan doth not lie in the sayde churche, as it is reportyd.” Hasted, vol. 11, 400. Gostling, 208, where he attributes the tomb to Pecham, but only “if [the effigy was] originally made for this tomb, which some have thought doubtful.” Gostling was a minor canon of the church. Others who attributed the tomb to Pecham include J Dart, The History and Antiquities of the Cathedral Church of

335 The monument was depicted by Dart in a plate in his 1726 publication, though not accurately.17 DT Powell's analysis may be the most detailed and the first to make comparisons to other monuments: “The whole is in the style of that of Aymer de Valence & Edmund of Lancester [sic] in Westminster Abbey.” He then offered a description, “the whole has been gorgeously painted and gilt. The statue is of oak hollowd inside as is usual with such statues in that & preceeding age. The Abp in the attitude of giving the Benediction holds his gloved right hand straight up on the shoulder in the left held the crosier entirely gone as well as the front of the mitre. At his feet 2 mutilated winged dragons or griffons couchant.”18 Though Hasted believed that neither the wooden effigy nor its slab “has seemingly ever been painted,” Powell's comments provide contrary visual evidence.19 Besides the paint and gilt he mentioned on the architectural surround, Powell noted that “the wood [of the effigy] is covered with a thin delicate plaister on which the gilding & painting the front robe [i.e. chasuble] has been of gold richly ornamented.”20 His watercolor sketch in gray and yellow shows the hole where the crosier was attached and the holes in the wood left from the removal of the canopy. On the back of the picture is the note “front robe gold on plaister.” His sketch also includes a miniature bishop in its niche, and in the spandrel by the finial he illustrates masonry painted with red lines. Edward Blore also made a drawing of the tomb, which he clearly attributed to Pecham. He showed damage to the figures in niches at east end, but did not

17 18 19 20

Canterbury (London: 1726), 137 and 148-9; Hasted, vol. 12, entry on Pecham. Dart, 137. Dart's inaccuracies were noted by DT Powell in BL Add Ms 17733, fol.5. BL Add Ms 17733, fol. 5, for his handwritten notes on the tombs, and fol. 7 for a sketch. Hasted, vol. 11, 400. Wilson, “Medieval Monuments,” 463-4, n.50, pointed out that “the polychromy of the effigy is likely to have been much more detailed and naturalistic than that of the architecture (see the settings for imitation gems on the amice, etc),” and repeated Powell's observations.

336 draw them completely cut off as they are by the next monument.21 Modern scholars have discussed the unusual nature of wooden effigy. Fryer's analysis showed Pecham's effigy to be one of 93 known existing effigies in England and Wales made of wood, including those originally covered with metal plates.22 Of these, only three are in Kent, only three are priests, and only one is an archbishop. Thus, a wooden effigy for an archbishop seems an unusual choice, though stylistically it parallels developments found in stone and metalwork at the end of the thirteenth century.23 An oak effigy of a priest, found in St Mary's Church, Clifford, Herefordshire, has a very similarly shaped face and drapery style, particularly at the sides where the drapery falls down from the arms.24 Wilson found another late thirteenth-century oak effigy in Abergavenny Priory to George de Cantilupe that approaches Pecham's in quality.25 LL Gee examined the use of the mural arch, which were relatively rare in England before the 1290s, but well-known in France by this date. He suggested this form, as well as much of the detailing used on Pecham's monument, was derived from French exemplars.26 Wilson, the most recent scholar to assess Pecham’s tomb, evaluated the tomb's design as a product of master mason Michael of Canterbury, to whom he also attributed the creation of the tombs to Bishop Bradfield at Rochester (Cat. 14), Bishop de

21 22 23

24 25 26

BL Add 42010, fol. 56. He dated the tomb to c.1300. Fryer, 497. A Gardner, 218: it “follows closely the type worked out in stone or marble.” Brieger grouped together this effigy with those of Bishop Walter de la Wyle (Cat. 21) at Salisbury and two bishops at Rochester (Cats. 15, 16). Wilson, “Medieval Monuments,” 462, made a comparison to the stone effigy of Aveline of Lancaster. Image in the Conway Archive, Courtauld Institute of Art; see also Fryer, 496-7. Wilson, “Medieval Monuments,” 462, n.43. Gee, “Ciborium Tombs.”

337 Luda at Ely, and some of the royal tombs at Westminster.27 Pecham was the first to be buried in the martrydom. There had been no real tradition of burial established for archbishops in the thirteenth century; Pecham's four predecessors were not buried in this church, Langton's tomb was in St Michael's chapel, and Hubert Walter's in the Trinity Chapel. It is known that Pecham chose to be buried with the London Greyfriars, a decision which may have prompted Prior Eastry to respond to Pecham to convince him otherwise. Wilson suggests that this prime location, the first burial in the martyrdom, may have been offered to Pecham as inducement to retain his body at Canterbury.28

CARLISLE Cat. 2 Current location: north wall of chancel, third bay from the east. Identification: unknown; either Bishop Silvester (d.1254) or Bishop Thomas Vipont (d.1256) Measurements: (approximate because slab is not complete) Width at head, 74 cm; width at lowest part of legs, 57 cm. Length, without feet, 188 cm. Depth at chest, 25 cm; depth of head from slab, 25 cm. Major features: A badly damaged tapered Purbeck effigy on a slab, resting on the plinth in a latemedieval niche. The effigy has been placed in the mural arch at a later date, as it barely

27 28

Wilson, “Medieval Monuments,” 461-2; idem, “The Origins of the Perpendicular Style.” Wilson, “Medieval Monuments,” 459.

338 fits even without its feet. If it once stood on a tomb chest, that chest has been lost. The slab is badly worn and broken along all four edges. Of the sculpture, the head and the chasuble are the best survivals. The figure of the bishop is topped by a gabled canopy in high relief with an inner pointed arch around the bishop's head. The feature, now badly damaged and only partially surviving on the north side, is ornamented with crockets and small indentations for imitation jewels on its front face. Also remaining only on the north side are the remnants of an angel in the spandrel of the canopy. The angel sits up perpendicular to the slab, and once swung a censer over the top of the canopy towards the bishop's head. The angel rests on low-relief wavy lines indicating clouds. The canopy was supported on either side of the bishop's figure by colonnettes with Corinthian capitals. These were carved in the round, several inches above the slab and supported by four foliate spurs. Only part of the colonnette on the north side remains. The bishop's head rests on a pillow. His hair is carved in a band across his forehead, visible below the mitre. His beard hangs in long ropy curls. The nose and eyes are damaged. The mitre has deep indentations intended to hold imitation jewels. At the bishop's throat is a morse carved in relief, with a large indentation for a jewel. The effigy has low, narrow shoulders but rises up to a rounded shape at the chest and abdomen; the arms, now missing, were once raised up in front of his shoulders and carved in the round. He held a crosier along the left side of his body, tucked in among his garments, though only a ridge and part of the surrounding sudarium remains. The chasuble rests as a thick slab above the tunicle, dalmatic and alb, which lie in

339 thinner layers over the bishop's body. The folds in the chasuble begin at the shoulders, where shallow ripples swing over across the chest from the right shoulder to the left side, a unique feature on the surviving carved effigies, though seen on several bishops' seals from the first half of the thirteenth century. Below his stomach, the folds gather in deeper, nested curves, regularly spaced to the lower tip of the chasuble. The cloth at the sides of the chasuble, where disturbed by the raised arms, overlaps slightly. The garments around his legs are arranged like vertical tubes, but revealing the shape of the lower legs where the cloth falls away dramatically in between and on either side of the legs. The feet, and the decoration at the bottom of the slab, are broken off and missing. History, identification and scholarship The Purbeck effigy at Carlisle has not received much attention in early sources. Besides the chronicle of Lanercost Priory in Cumbria, medieval sources are silent regarding Carlisle burials, and no cathedral document has come to light identifying its bishops' resting places.29 Seventeenth-century sources are also mute on the subject.30 The earliest mention may be that made by Browne Willis in his notes and on a plan printed in his publication of 1727. Willis drew an effigy under a low arch in the fifth bay counting from the east, which he labeled to Bishop Strickland (d.1419), and he drew two bishops' tombs without effigies in bays 3 and 4. These latter two likely were intended to represent the two twinned late-medieval arches in bay 3, but the artist has spread them over two bays instead of correctly placing them within one. As a result, the effigy's placement is

29 30

Chronicle of Lanercost Priory, vol. 46 (Maitland Club, 1839). The chronicle begins with the year 1201. The author of the notes in BL MS Lansdowne 213 visited Carlisle in 1634 but was not impressed with the cathedral and did not mention the effigy. Carlisle was not among the churches visited by Symonds or Dingley. Leland made notes on the town but not the interior of the cathedral.

340 incorrect.31 Gough followed Willis in identifying the effigy as for Bishop Strickland, although he did not include an engraving of the tomb.32 The first substantial assessment of the effigy is in Lysons's 1816 volume of Magna Britannia.33 Lysons seems to be the first to apply any sort of stylistic analysis in his discussion and to question Willis's early fifteenth-century attribution. Lysons saw its similarity to the Ely effigy (Cat. 4), and astutely noted that “it is evidently much more ancient [than Bishop Strickland], and from the style of it, was probably designed for some bishop who died before the middle of the thirteenth century.” He saw it in the north aisle of the choir, but did not specify the exact location. The earliest-known images of the effigy occur in the middle decades of the nineteenth century. An 1840 longitudinal view of the north wall of the choir, engraved for Billings's Illustrations of Carlisle Cathedral, shows the effigy placed in a later niche awkwardly cut into the Early English arcade in the fourth bay from the east, rather than in one of the later medieval twinned four-centered mural arches in the third bay, where it is today.34 This situation was probably what Willis intended to show on his plans. Therefore by at least 1840 (and probably by 1727) the effigy had already been moved once, as the awkward niche did not date to the same period as the effigy. An undated 31

32

33 34

His manuscript plans are in Bodl Ms Willis 46, fols. 41r and 42r. Only fol. 42r shows tombs. The two tombs in bays 3 and 4 are labeled Bishops Hatton and Weston, “supposed,” and he identified the effigy as Strickland's. His published version of the plan (Willis, Survey (1727), vol. I, 285) identified the tombs in bays 3 and 4 as Appleby and Walton, supposedly, but the effigy remained labeled to Strickland. In his printed text, p. 293-4, he referred to the effigy as freestone. His placement of the effigy is probably incorrect. Ferguson, “Monuments in Carlisle Cathedral,” 260, noted in 1884 that Browne Willis did not visit the cathedral himself and instead relied on a local's information. Ferguson believed the effigy was actually in bay 4 from the east when Willis was writing, not bay 5. Sepulchral Monuments, vol. II, 53: “A blue stone figure of a bishop in pontificalibus in the North wall of Carlisle cathedral....” Lysons, vol. IV, cxcvii. A plan of Carlisle Cathedral dated 1816 is on p. 71. Plate 5, longitudinal section of the north side.

341 nineteenth-century view by Blore is the earliest detailed image of the effigy.35 His drawing illustrates three foliate crockets springing up along the side of the effigy to support the colonnette, as well as the ornament around his neck, chest, and on his mitre. The canopy around the head is damaged in Blore's view, and the feet are missing. The angel on the south side of the effigy was more in evidence when Blore drew it, but otherwise the effigy was in the same condition then as now. Blore, like Lysons, dated the effigy to 1250. The effigy was moved to its current position in 1856, under the cathedral restorations carried out by Ewan Christian.36 According to Ferguson, the effigy in 1884 still retained traces of paint and gilding, despite its heavily battered state. He is the only observer to mention this detail. Ferguson was the first to attempt a detailed study of the effigy, in which he summarized the historiography of the monument and examined the possible candidates for ownership from the thirteenth century. He pointed out that the first person to assign the effigy to Bishop Silvester de Everdon (d.1254) was Charles Purday in 1859.37 (See discussion in Cat. 13 for the monument in the Temple Church, London, which has often been assigned to the same bishop.) Based on evidence taken from the chronicle of Lanercost Priory, Ferguson suggested instead that the monument belonged to Bishop Ireton (d.1292). The reasoning behind his conclusion is that the chronicle did not mention a tomb or a burial place for Bishop Silvester, but it did mention, in a description of the

35 36

37

BL Add Ms 42010, fol. 5. Ferguson, 259. For more on the architectural history of the cathedral, see David Weston, Carlisle Cathedral History (Carlisle, 2000). Purday, The Architecture of Carlisle Cathedral (Carlisle, 1859). I could not locate a copy of this book.

342 damage incurred by a fire in the cathedral in 1292, that two successors, Bishops Robert de Chause (d.1279) and Ralph Ireton, were buried in the cathedral. In the fire, the tomb of Ireton was damaged and that of de Chause survived.38 Ferguson believed that the damage to the effigy must have been caused by the fire, and thus that this effigy belonged to Ireton. However, his argument does not explain what has happened since to the tomb of de Chause, which according to the chronicle was supposed to have survived unscathed; additionally, discounting the possibility that it could belong to Bishop Silvester based on omission in a medieval chronicle from another church is not sound methodology. In 1900, C King Eley, without explanation, returned the attribution to Silvester.39 The third possibility, that this is the effigy of de Chause, which was said to have survived the fire (and must therefore have sustained its damage at a later date), was put forth in the 1905 volume of the Victoria County History.40 More recently, Rogers hazarded an attribution to Ralph de Ireton, but Canon Weston's publication doubts that this is likely.41 The style of the effigy very strongly suggests a date in the mid-1250s, and therefore narrows down the field of candidates considerably. The effigy bears a striking resemblance to effigies in Ely (Cat. 4) and Lichfield (Cat. 12), both in generalities and in

38

39

40 41

According to the chronicle, Sylvester de Everdon suffered an accidental death in 1255, but it offers no more details about his death or burial. The next bishop was only there a year, Thomas Vipont (d.1256), and the chronicle does not mention his burial. Robert de Chause (d.1279) and Ralph Ireton (d.1292) are both said in the chronicle to have been buried in the cathedral as mentioned in the account of the fire in 1292: “ita ut mausoleum improbi exactoris [i.e. Bishop Ireton] flamma coraret, sed termini predecessoris sui, Roberti de Chalix, ex omni parte intacti perseverent” (Chronicle of Lanercost, 145). Eley, 56-7, without providing evidence, suggested that the effigy was originally (before 1292) in the choir, and was later moved to the north aisle. VCH Cumberland, vol. II (1905), 212-13. Rogers, “English Episcopal Monuments,” 58, n.111, citing Pevsner, BE, Cumberland and Westmoreland. Weston, Carlisle Cathedral History, 57.

343 details. The overall shape of the body and head, the architectural and foliate features, and the details of the face and the drapery align these effigies together. As the Ely and Lichfield effigies are dated in the mid-1250s, art-historical assessment would suggest this effigy also was commissioned in the 1250s. Thus, despite the lack of mention in the Lanercost chronicle, Silvester (d.1254) is still a possible candidate. His successor, Bishop Thomas Vipont (d.1256), is also a strong possibility based on date of death, as recently suggested by David Park, although much less is known about his career and personal affiliations.42 A less likely candidate would be Bishop de Chause, who may have purchased the effigy early in his career as bishop of Carlisle; he was consecrated in 1258.

CHICHESTER No effigial tombs from the twelfth or thirteenth centuries. Inscribed slabs with crosiers from thirteenth century.

DURHAM No effigial tombs from twelfth or thirteenth centuries, or even burials in the church until 1310.

ELY Ely cathedral saw almost wholesale redistribution of its medieval monuments in the seventeenth to nineteenth centuries. In the words of former clerk of the works John 42

Thomas, although at Carlisle only for a short time, was from a wealthy family and could easily have afforded a Purbeck monument (personal communication, David Park, Courtauld Institute, and see also Park, “Medieval Burials and Monuments,” 85).

344 Bacon, “The removal of the floor of the presbytery in 1690, and again in 1770 [Essex's restorations], and moreover that of the whole eastern limb in 1850 [GG Scott], caused much confusion amongst the monuments and slabs, many of them being necessarily disturbed, and in many cases removed from the sites of the graves.”43

Cat. 3 Current location: North choir arcade, third bay from east end of church (currently the easternmost bay within the choir enclosure, next to the altar, and 2 bays east of Cat. 4) Identification: Hugh de Northwold (d.1254) Measurements: Width at head, 86 cm; width at feet, 47 cm. Length, 207 cm. Length of figure, 166 cm; width of figure at shoulders, 44 cm. Depth at canopy (the highest point from slab), 25 cm. Major Features: This is by far the most elaborately detailed and expertly carved Purbeck effigy of all the survivals from the twelfth and thirteenth centuries. Not one portion of the slab is left plain. The overall arrangement of the slab is an effigy of the bishop under an arched canopy supported by colonnettes richly encircled by foliage, and flanked at each side by three miniature niches each housing additional figures of king, bishop, monks, abbess, etc. It sits on a modern, unrelated tomb chest. The arched opening around the effigy's head is cinquefoiled, and topped by filigree work drilled with holes, perhaps for pasted gems or for securing an attachment of some kind. A speck of gold can be found on the filigree, perhaps the remains of gilding. 43

CUL EDC 4/6/7 “Gleanings,” 1887, 9.

345 At the apex of the canopy stand two miniature angels, their upper bodies now missing, holding a soul carried in a cloth. Behind them, on a lower plane, rise a set of pilasters, possibly once having pinnacles at the top. In a third plane is a gable capping the entire arched opening; the gable recedes back to a transverse roofline resembling a transept, and has a finial at the top. On either side of this central opening is the torso of an angel, emerging from wavy layers of clouds and holding a thurible out towards the canopy. The angel on the bishop's right survives, though the head is missing; the left does not. In each corner is an elaborate tower, with battlements, designed differently on each side. The architectural surround is faceted, the side facets separated from the central opening by a pinnacle adorned with diminishing gables and the large colonnettes at either side of the effigy. These are carved almost completely in the round, fully entwined with vines and foliage, amongst which rest tiny birds, and culminate in foliate capitals. Each side facet of the slab boasts three miniature niches as richly decorated as the central niche. These are sharply pointed, with cinquefoiled arches and lush crockets. On the bishop's right are a king (top), a bishop (middle), and a monk (bottom, damaged). On the bishop's left are a crowned abbess, a queen, and a nun. Each figure stands on a tiny beast or a foliate corbel. From the surviving tombs from the thirteenth century, only the slab made for Bishop Aquablanca at Hereford has side facets with miniature arches, but these are much simpler in design, and house heads rather than full figures. The Northwold effigy is unique both in terms of expertise in carving and richness and extent of imagery. The bishop holds a crosier, the head large and elaborate against the canopy on his left side. The left hand survives, with its glove, holding the crosier and also a ?book. His

346 right hand is raised, though the hand is broken, probably in a gesture of benediction. All the drapery has crisp, sharp folds, angular in profile, and mostly arranged in a nested pattern. The alb undulates smoothly over the legs, and the stole ends lay on top in sharp relief. The dalmatic is rendered with more sharp folds, revealing the curve of the leg underneath. The vents at either side are visible. The maniple at his left side parts and falls open. The chasuble is the most damaged part, formed of ridges arranged in continuous nested v-folds all the way up to the chest. The sculptor does not show the way the cloth would fold back under the raised arms. He is without orphrey or morse. The amice is broken. His head rests on a shallow rectangular pillow, and the lappets of the mitre are visible. The mitre was sharply pointed, though the tip is broken off at the front. The eyes are open, and he has lines across his forehead. The lower half of the face is badly damaged. The hair, visible across the forehead under the mitre, is formed of rather naturalistic strands, less ropy/patterned than usual. Also, only at the sides does the beard survive, but this was also quite naturalistic. The bishop's feet rest on two beasts. The largest has a lion's mane and tail, clawed feet and an elongated and dragon-like face. His teeth are bared as he twists around to bite the crosier in between the bishop's feet. On the north side is a smaller creature, more serpent-like but with a feathered lower body. He also turns to bite the crosier at its tip. On the underside of the wavy ground on which bishop and beasts rest unfold several low relief scenes illustrating the martyrdom of St Edmund with remarkable detail. The north side is in better condition than the south, though both the corners on the north side have some damage. A portion of the northwest corner had been broken off and

347 later rejoined to the main block. There is also some damage to the pinnacles and apexes of gables at the top of the monument. The mitre is broken, the right hand missing, and the face harmed, but on the whole, it survives in remarkable condition, especially given the intricate and delicate nature of the carving. History, identification, and scholarship: Given the specificity of the carved subjects on the tomb—the imagery of St Edmund, in particular, since Hugh had been abbot of Bury St Edmund's—the effigy must belong to Bishop Hugh of Northwold. The richness of the carving on the tomb also is related to the richness of the architectural carvings in Hugh's bays of the presbytery and quite possibly to the shrine of Etheldreda. Stylistic analysis of the figure and foliate carving dates the effigy to the middle of the thirteenth century, although Binski suggested that the richly entwined foliage is archaic in character, and may be a specific reference to the monastic cathedral's rich past, and particularly, its cults of Anglo-Saxon female saints.44 The effigy has been moved from its original location, and has been separated from its coffin. Medieval sources say that Hugh was honorably buried behind the high altar at the feet of St Etheldreda in the middle of the presbytery.45 While this is one of the more specific medieval descriptions of a tomb location, some uncertainty exists about its original placement, due in part to doubt as to where exactly the medieval shrine stood, 44

45

See Roberts, “The Effigy of Bishop Hugh de Northwold,” for the only full-length study of this tomb. Binski discusses the tomb briefly in Becket's Crown, 100. Bentham, 148, citing BL Ms Harley 258: “buried behind the High Altar at the feet of St. Etheldreda, in the middle of the Presbytery.” Godwin, 208, in 1601, simply said Hugh was buried in the presbytery. Wharton, vol. I, 636, in his footnote has slightly different wording: Northwold was buried “versus orientum juxta feretrum.” Stewart, 134, included wording from a Lambeth manuscript which added the phrase “ad pedes Sce Etheldrede.” See also Draper, 13, and Roberts, “Effigy,” 82-84.

348 how far the feretory around it extended, and which bays were used for the processional path. Plans dating to the first half of the eighteenth century indicated the location of the tomb to Bishop Hugh in the center of the presbytery, though these plans differ slightly in their exact placement.46 Peter Draper's analysis of the layout of Hugh's east end preferred the placement suggested by Willis, in bay 3, closer to the shrine.47 However, based on a reassessment of the imagery in the figural boss in the vault over bay 2, Marion Roberts made the suggestion that the boss represented Hugh himself, and therefore that his burial may have been in bay 2 as Stevens's plan showed.48 Adding to uncertainty about the tomb's original placement, the early eighteenthcentury sources indicate that by that time, the tomb was not whole and the effigy was no longer associated with the original burial place. Stevens's 1722 plan referred to a tomb in the center of the presbytery as a “broken marble perhaps of Bishop Novsold” [sic].49 Willis, whose plans usually indicate an effigy if there was one, called the tomb he associated with Hugh a “gravestone” in his 1730 publication and illustrated it on the plan

46

47

48

49

See Stevens, vol. I, 399 (plan), who in 1722 showed him in the second bay from east, and Willis, Survey (1730), 331 (plan), who put him at the third bay from the east. See also CUL EDC 4/6/5, “Monts slabs and sites of graves in the eastern arm, c1887,” a plan by John Bacon, former Clerk of the Works, showing the changes up through 1850, on which he placed Hugh in the center of presbytery, in between the third set of piers from the east, east of and immediately adjacent to the shrine of Etheldreda, which he conjectured was in the middle of the fourth bay. Draper, 13. However, placing Hugh in this bay conflicts with the evidence Draper himself presented of a thirteenth-century door in bay three, which suggests that that bay was intended for a processional route. He suggested that the processional route was later moved to the 2 nd bay, but it would seem awkward to have placed a thirteenth century tomb in the third (processional) bay shortly after the eastern end was completed. Roberts, “Effigy,” 84. This would mean that the tomb was off-center, as the boss itself is not in the center of the vault. It also could well mean that the tomb was further away from the shrine than was indicated by the medieval texts. More recently, although without addressing the issue specifically, Maddison, Ely Cathedral, 47 and 50, returned to the earlier view that the tomb was directly east of the shrine. Stevens, vol. I, 399.

349 with a dotted line.50 His text indicates that the tomb was no longer extant, and that he was marking a supposed location rather than a surviving object. The effigy we now consider to be Hugh's was by Stevens and Willis not associated with that bishop, and therefore it is difficult to distinguish the location of the effigy on their plans. However, Bentham in 1771 recognized the effigy and stated that it had been “laid on Bp Barnet’s Tomb, [and] has by the incurious been taken for the effigies of that Bishop.”51 On his plan, made in 1770, he identified the Northwold effigy as being in bay 5 from the east, under the south arcade, on top of Barnet's tomb chest. The plate he provided shows the effigy in this position, on a base decorated with multiple rows of small quatrefoils. The chest is clearly not original to the effigy, as Bentham pointed out. Willis and Bentham both proposed that Hugh’s tomb was probably demolished when the shrine was leveled.52 However, it is more likely that the effigy was moved from its original location onto Barnet's tomb chest around 1684, during the choir renovations begun by Bishop Gunning, since Godwin described a different effigy on Barnet's tomb chest in 1601.53 Hugh's effigy remained in its southern location on top of Bishop Barnet's tomb

50 51

52

53

Willis, Survey (1730), 331 (plan) and 334; his manuscript plan is Bodl Ms Willis 45, fols. 4, 5. Bentham, 148 and plate XV. Willis, Survey (1730), 331, unwittingly corroborated Bentham's statement by drawing on his plan an effigy on the tomb that he attributed to Bishop Barnet. Lysons, BL Add Ms 9461, plan and fol. 44, and Kerrich, BL Add Ms 6757B, fols. 31-2, both followed Bentham's identification. Lysons, fol. 44, listed in the “Ely South aisle: John de Norwold [sic] founder of the presbytery. Altar tomb 11 feet long of Purbeck marble with tracery of quatrefoils on the sides. On the top being the effigies of the Bp within a very rich canopy ornd with foliage. Under the 5 th arch from the lanthorn. Very imperfectly figd in Bentham.” Willis, Survey (1730), 350; Bentham, 148. However, Willis, Survey (1730), 334, noted that some of the gravestones were removed from the choir under Bishop Gunning's renovations. Godwin, 217, saw the damaged effigy in Cat. 5 on Barnet's tomb on the south side of the high altar. Unfortunately Godwin did not make note of the effigy under consideration here. John Bacon, too, believed that the effigy was moved during Bishop Gunning's renovations (CUL EDC 4/6/7 “Gleanings,” 13).

350 through the first half of the nineteenth century.54 By 1850, however, Hugh's effigy had been moved to its current position, under the north arcade of the presbytery, bay 3 from the east. The current base is made from a design of George Gilbert Scott.55 Bentham provided the earliest published illustration and a brief description of the effigy, though with some inaccuracy.56 Early sketches of the tomb were made by Kerrich and by Blore.57 Gough seems not to have employed an artist to draw this effigy, though he included a description of it in his text, in which he verbally corrected what he saw as inadequacies in Bentham's work.58 A side-view of the effigy was published by Lysons in 1808.59 Stothard provided an extremely rich view of the effigy in birdseye, with a detail of the footrest, and a written description.60 His drawing shows that a portion of the top of the monument was then missing; this has been added since he took the drawing in 1812, as is clear by the join visible today. John Bacon's notes include a side view of Northwold on Scott’s new base, and a birdseye view of the effigy with indistinct details.61

54

55

56 57

58

59

60 61

See e.g. Millers (1807), 92; Lysons (1808), vol. II, 62; Storer (1816), vol. II, plan; Stothard (view taken 1812, publ. 1826); and Coney’s plates and plans in the revised edition of Dugdale, Monasticon, vol. I, before p. 457. Bacon, CUL EDC 4/6/5, plan; CUL EDC 4/6/7 “Gleanings,” 13. Atkinson, VCH Cambridgeshire, vol. IV, 70, incorrectly stated that the effigy was moved to its present site in 1770. The tomb chest on which it had formerly rested still survives in the same location and is still attributed to Bishop Barnet. Bentham, 148 and plate facing. Kerrich, BL Add Ms 6757B, fol. 31 has some foliage details from Hugh's monument, which he identified as such. Blore, BL Add Ms 42009, fol. 4, shows him from the side, on a plain base. This view is undated. Perhaps he made up a base since he knew the Barnet one was not original. Sepulchral Monuments, vol. I, 46-7. Gough seemed to be working from his own observations. There are no additional notes or sketches in his extra-illustrated edition, Bodl Gough Maps 222, and he never published an engraving of the effigy. Lysons, vol. II, after 62. This plate has line drawings of the effigies of William Kilkenny and of Hugh, seen from the side, but slightly tipped for better view. Stothard, pl. 34, first published in 1826 and drawn 1812. His plate is printed in Roberts, “Effigy,” 82. CUL EDC 4/6/7 “Gleanings,” 18 (side view) and 22 (birds-eye view). These are not particularly accomplished.

351 Cat. 4 Current location: under north arcade of choir, bay 5 from octagon or bay 5 counting from the east wall. Identification: most likely Bishop William Kilkenny (d.1256) Measurements: Length of slab, 231 cm; width of slab at head, 83 cm; width at foot, 54 cm. Length of figure, approx. 200 cm. Depth of effigy at highest points: at head, approx. 27 cm; at canopy, 20 cm. Colonnettes raised 7 cm above slab. Height of tomb chest, 42 cm up to slab (including mortar). Major features: A tapered Purbeck effigy and tomb chest. The slab may still be on its original tomb base; the base and slab fit together well and both are Purbeck stone. The effigy falls into a group of mid-thirteenth century Purbeck effigies which exhibit great plasticity and depth, with bold forms and clean details rather than a multiplicity of small-scale, elaborate embellishments (compare e.g. to Cat. 3). Its closest stylistic parallels are the Purbeck effigies at Lichfield (Cat. 12) and Carlisle (Cat. 2). The slab has chamfered edges on all sides. The bishop stands on a plain corbel resting on what were once five bunches of foliage, probably stiff-leaf (the two in the southeast corner are modern replacements; the other three are gone). The sides of the corbel are decorated with stems of leaves, of fleshy trilobed type, in low relief. From rounded bases on the corbel rises a colonnette on each side of the effigy. These are freestanding from the slab, raised quite high, and were supported by five foliate spurs, the leaves trilobed and fleshy, arising up out of the slab to embrace the colonnette. The lower

352 2/3 of the colonnette on south side, the supporting foliate spurs, and part of the slab have been replaced in new stone. At the top of each colonnette is a foliate capital, combining low relief stems of trilobed leaves in the middle and stiff-leaf volutes on corners. Resting on squared impost blocks is the architectural canopy encircling the bishop's head. The pointed arch of the canopy has an inner trefoiled molding and is decorated on the outside with small crockets. A ridge-line extends horizontally behind the pointed arch, and joins the pointed arch with two narrow perpendicular side gables, also crocketed. The surfaces of the architecture are solid and clean, not embellished with small-scale detail, such as carved roof tiles or masonry joints. An angel in each corner swoops down from clouds towards the bishop's head, each holding a thurible. Their wings are folded together behind their backs, and their drapery rendered in broad folds of cloth. The original angels' heads are missing, and one has been replaced. The bishop lies on a shallow rectangular pillow. His mitre is sharply pointed, though the front tip is broken off. A decorative raised band across its base has indents for gems. The hair (with some restoration) projects in a roll from underneath the mitre. While his nose, brow, and upper lip have been replaced, his eyes were always open. The beard is stylized, with hair hanging in separated curled clumps. His amice and soft collar splay out at his throat, above a morse carved in relief. His body shape is narrow, but deep and rounded in section. The fabric of the chasuble across his chest lies smooth, but falls in nested rounded folds below, some in higher relief than others (and some repaired in newer stone). There is a rhythm to the drapery: the folds begin with a few small rolls, then the pattern of one large fold, then two small ones, one large, two small, etc, recurs

353 about five times. Where abundant material hangs over his arms, the sculptor has tentatively carved it folding back on itself. The chasuble, which comes to the knees, lies in a thick layer above the thinner layers of dalmatic, tunicle, stole, and alb. These last reveal the shape of the lower legs by falling away dramatically in between and on either side of the legs. Part of the right foot is replaced. Remnants of cloth and a rounded ridge on the north side of the figure reveal the placement of the crosier, now missing. It would have traveled down the left side of the bishop's body. The crosier head, some fragments of which still survive, would have just touched the pointed arch canopy. His left hand, now missing, was raised above his shoulder to grasp the crosier, as was his right hand, the replacement of which is in a gesture of blessing. History, identification and scholarship: This chest and effigy seemingly have always been identified by post-medieval observers as belonging to Bishop Kilkenny, and has been in its current position at least since the early eighteenth century, despite several post-medieval renovations of the choir.62 Bentham, writing in 1771, believed that the monument was still in its original medieval position, and that the medieval texts corresponded exactly with its location. Citing copies of the Ely Chronicle in Harley Mss 258 and 3721, Bentham stated that 62

Stevens, (1722), vol. I, 399, plan shows the tomb in bay 5 from the east wall, where it was then the easternmost of the tombs in the north arcade. Stevens conjectured that the medieval high altar was also in bay 5. Willis, Survey (1730), 331 (plan), showed the same placement of the tomb (with an effigy on it), except he supposed the medieval altar to have been in bay 6. The tomb was not moved when Essex moved the choir into the east end c.1770; see, e.g., Bentham (1771), 285 (plan), showing Essex's new arrangement, and Lysons, BL Add Ms 9461, “A Plan of the Cathedral Church of Ely, with the Choir as proposed to be removed to the East End, 1768 which work is now carrying on, Nov 1, 1770.” It remained in the same place when the choir was moved westwards again in the mid-nineteenth century; see the plan of the monuments as they stood in 1850 by John Bacon, CUL EDC 4/6/5, “Monts slabs and sites of graves in the eastern arm, c1887.”

354 Kilkenny died and was buried in Spain in 1256, but that his heart was transferred to Ely and “deposited in the presbytery on the north side, between two pillars near the high altar; where we still see a Monument or Cenotaph, which was erected to his Memory.”63 However, Wharton's publication of Ely's chronicle states that Kilkenny's heart was buried “in majore ecclesia Eliensi prope altare Sn Andrea Apostoli.”64 Whether placement near the altar of St Andrew corresponds to a position “in the presbytery on the north side” is unclear, and, more importantly, the accuracy of the medieval documents recently has been questioned. It has been suggested by Jane Sayers that the scribes mistook “Audree” for “Andree,” in which case the bishop would have been buried near the altar of St Audrey (Etheldreda), associated with the cathedral's primary shrine.65 A further descriptor of Kilkenny's burial, in Lambeth Ms 448, added that his heart was buried near the “boias,” which have been interpreted as prisoners' chains miraculously broken by the saint and which were hung on a pier on the north side of the presbytery. This added detail makes sense if we accept Sayers's hypothesis that Kilkenny was buried near the altar of 63

64

65

Bentham, 149, where he also says “He left to the Convent by his Will, 200 Marks for founding a perpetual chantry of two chaplains in the cathedral church.” Millers, 81, writing in 1807, also believed Kilkenny to be in his original location. Wharton, vol. I, 636. Bentham was aware of this reference to the altar of St Andrew made in the Lambeth Ms, as seen in his own copied excerpts of the medieval chronicles (CUL EDC 14/9, 67). Sayers, 85, n.22, stated that Andree was a scribal error for Audree, which was perpetuated in later copies of the manuscript (LPL Lambeth Ms 448 has the error, fol. 45r and 110r, but the earliest manuscript, BL Cotton Titus A.1, fol. 109r, had been corrected to “Etheldreda.” She noted that the same mistake was made in the references to the altar of St Andrew/Audree associated with the burial place of John of Fountains). Published accounts, which largely made use of the later manuscripts (LPL Lambeth Ms 448, BL Harley 3721 and 258, and Bodl Ms Laud Misc. 647), perpetuated the mistake. As a result of this find, Sayers expressed doubt over the existence of an altar to St Andrew anywhere in the cathedral. Wharton's specific mention of the Apostle, however, means either that Andrew is the correct reading or that the scribe not only mistakenly copied the word but then editorialized by adding the descriptor “Apostoli.” Additionally, Draper, 13, and Atkinson, VCH, vol. IV, 70, mentioned that Bishop Redman (d.1506), whose tomb is in bay 6 under the north arcade, was near to an altar dedicated to St Andrew. Neither author, however, cited the original source for this statement, and so it cannot be verified by me; nor did Sayers address this. Bishop Redman did have a chantry chapel and altar associated with his tomb (Maddison, “The Gothic Cathedral,” 139, n. 103), and it is possible that an altar to St Andrew was newly added to the church by him when he founded his chantry.

355 Etheldreda.66 Etheldreda's altar could well have been in or near bay 5, just east of the high altar, in which case the monument could still be standing today in its original position.67 Artists’ renderings prove the tomb to have sustained its damage by at least c.1770, and to have been repaired by 1870. Bentham’s plate reproduces a pre-restoration view from the north side.68 Gough in 1786 described the figure as “somewhat like the bishops at Sarum and Worcester; on his breast a lozenge. At his feet a bending canopy of five arches.”69 Sketches in the British Library include careful details of the pre-restoration foliage by Kerrich, c.1770, a pencil drawing among Lysons's papers of the whole tomb, dated 1770, and a full view taken by Blore in the first half of the nineteenth century.70

66

67

68

69

70

Sayers, 78 and n. 21, citing Lambeth MS 448, fol. 153v: “cor vero eius jacet juxta boias.” On more information about the “boias,” see Atkinson, VCH, vol. IV, 74. Stewart, 134, incorrectly associated the phrase with the burial of Hugh. Draper, 13, however, argued that such an honorific position north of the main shrine would have been presumptuous. Additionally, a sacrist’s account from 1349-50 talks about railings, not tombs, on the north, east and south sides of the feretory, which may also indicate that the tomb was not north of the shrine in the medieval period. However, the shrine altar could have been in bay 5, near the tomb, and the shrine itself in bay 4 slightly further to the east. Such an interpretation suits the medieval documentary evidence and still allows for clear space around the shrine. Bentham, plate XVI, 149. The effigy slab is placed slightly off-center on the chest in this view, so that the head of the slab does not quite cover the chest and the slab overhangs a bit at the feet. Instead of angels, he illustrated foliage at either side of the head (a mistake rather than a result of damage and restoration). The three lower foliage spurs on the north side are shown as already broken, as is the base. Sepulchral Monuments, vol. I, 49. Gough criticized Bentham’s mistaken interpretation of the angels at either side of the head. The “bending canopy of five arches” is mysterious. Presumably he was describing the corbel with five sprigs of foliage. John Carter did not sketch the tomb for Gough, and Gough did not publish a plate of this tomb. Kerrich, BL Add Ms 6757B, series of details in fols. 25-30. These are an excellent source for the state of the foliate details on the tomb. Lysons, BL Add Ms 9461, fol. 19, is a full view taken from the north. The artist omitted the cracks on the chest, and showed five whole foliage spurs supporting the colonnette on the north side (cf. Bentham's view which showed them broken). In Lysons's sketch the effigy is damaged; it had no nose, the heads of the angels were gone, as were the tip of his mitre and his two blessing fingers. The plinth on Bentham's as on Lysons's sketch was higher than the current one, and the chest not so worn at the edges as it is now. Like Gough, Lysons, fol. 44, noted the inaccuracy of Bentham's plate. The effigy may have been partly restored by the time of Blore’s visit, or else Blore falsified its condition for his drawing, BL Add Ms 42009, fol. 5, a side view taken from the south. He shows four rich bunches of foliage supporting the colonnette. The corbel base on which the figure stands has foliage underneath. The effigy’s right fingers are raised in blessing. The angel in the spandrel

356 Lysons published a view drawn by F Nash in 1808.71 A lithograph dated to 1870 stated that “the head of angel, nose and hands of figure, some of the knots of foliage on south side, and one or two other details, have been restored.”72 The only person to express doubt that this tomb was made for Bishop Kilkenny was Thomas Kerrich, who in his notes wrote “1257 Will: Kilkenny – his heart only buried here – they do not seem to know that the mon ascribed to him is certainly his.”73 At the bottom of his sketches of this tomb he wrote that “I cannot help suspecting that this monument belongs rather to Bishop Galfridus de Burgo ob 1229.”74 He did not give a reason, but he did note information taken from Godwin, that de Burgh was “on the N side of the choir.”75 However, as the choir would have been further west in the Middle Ages, it does not make sense that a burial in this position would correspond to something described, in the medieval sources, as near the choir. Kerrich also noted that “The capitals of the pillars in the Presbytery have foliage like Kilkenny's monument-- all the foliage of the whole building is composed of the same round trefoil.”76 He did not, however, follow up on the implications of this, i.e. that the effigy more likely would date to mid-century rather than the 1220s. Additionally, his later assertion that the headless effigy (Cat. 5) might belong to de Burgh shows his uncertainty. For the moment, the attribution to Kilkenny stands. His predecessor, Bishop Hugh

71 72

73 74 75 76

is sitting upright and facing forwards. The tomb is freestanding on a pavement of black and white lozenges. Lysons, vol. II, after p. 62. LSA, uncatalogued boxes arranged by county, “Sepulchral Monuments British Isles,” Cambridgeshire, measured and drawn by DW Lonsdale and Geo Vialls, 1870, and lith GV. BL Add Ms 6757B, fol. 40. Ibid., fols. 27 and 30. See Chapter 3 for more on De Burgh's burial. See also Wharton, vol. I, 635; Godwin, 207. BL Add Ms 6757B, fol. 39.

357 of Northwold, whose effigy is securely attributed, was in office from 1229-1252, and his successor, Hugh de Balsham, was in office from 1257 until 1286. This means that if the effigy does not belong to Kilkenny, it must belong to a bishop who died in the 1220s or the 1280s. Neither of these dates matches the style of the sculpture, which suits a midcentury date. Hugh de Balsham could be a possible candidate if he ordered his effigy early during his tenure as Bishop of Ely, but there is no reason to doubt the attribution to Kilkenny.

Cat. 5 Current location: north choir aisle, second bay east of octagon Identification: ?John de Kirkby (d.1290) Measurements: Width of slab at the feet (of what survives), 59 cm; width of widest part of slab (shoulders), 67 cm; width of figure at arms, 53 cm; length of what survives, 180 cm; length of figure, what survives, 166cm; the head would have added at least 30 cm; depth of raised arm (highest point in relief), 28 cm. Major features: A damaged Purbeck effigy missing the head and separated from the coffin. It now rests on the floor in the north choir aisle. The slab, damaged at edges, had a curved chamfered edge, decorated in low relief with individual rosettes joined by a curving single stem. There are no colonnettes or other architectural supports along the sides of the slab to indicate a canopy above the head. At the bishop's feet is an animal commonly referred to as a goose, with webbed feet and a wing folded across its back showing broad,

358 simple feathers. However, it has claws, a knobby spine, and thick, sinewy legs not typical of waterfowl and should more correctly be described as a basilisk or wyvern. The creature's head is now missing, as is part of its tail, though the end of it curls up the north side of the bishop’s robes. The figure is carved in deep relief from the slab, and is wider and taller than the majority of Purbeck effigies; with the head, it would have been an impressive size. The right arm, in particular, is raised away from the body in very high relief, though broken. The left held the crosier, of which there are still remnants across the body from the left shoulder to the outside of the right foot. The sudarium that wound around it is still in evidence, with carved fringes. The amice is the uppermost part of the surviving fragment, with the break occurring at the neck. The chasuble is rounded at the bottom and falls in a few fat rolls, rounded in profile and falling asymmetrically and unevenly down the bishop's front. The raised arms have caused the excess fabric at the sides of the chasuble to break into several folds. There is no surface decoration on the chasuble, though the ends of the stole have carved wavy fringes, as do the hem and the vents at the sides of the dalmatic. The alb is almost flat in profile, with slight curves round the legs. History, attribution and scholarship: This effigy has been moved several times from its original location. The earliest available evidence regarding the effigy comes from Godwin, who described in 1601 Barnet's tomb, on the south side of the high altar (bay 5 from the east), as a “goodly tombe monstrously defaced, the head of the image being broken off.”77 It must have been

77

Godwin, 217, italics mine. Godwin's descriptions of the monuments in this church give the impression that he was actually present.

359 removed from this location in the remodeling of the choir around 1684, since Thomas Gray, writing in the early eighteenth century, saw the effigy resting on the tomb chest of Bishop Hotham, in the center of the presbytery, bay 8.78 By c.1770, as a result of Essex's remodeling of the eastern end, Hotham's tomb was moved under the north arcade, and the headless effigy resting on it was placed in the south aisle, just under the edge of the octagon, in the same bay as the eastern chapel in the south transept.79 Kerrich tentatively suggested an identification: “NB the old Bishop without a head may probably be Eustachius who built the Galilee ob 1215, or Geoffrey de Burgh ob 1228 or possibly John de Fontibus ob 1225. Most probably Geoffrey de Burgh.”80 Lysons did not attempt to identify the effigy in his notes, but in his 1808 publication printed that in the south aisle of choir could be found an ancient monument of a “bishop, with his effigies carved in Purbeck marble, round the edge of which is a hollow moulding, with a scroll of roses; the figure is much mutilated, the head and hands being destroyed: this seems to be of an earlier date than the monument of bishop Northwold, in the same church, and was probably either that of John de Fontibus ... or Geoffrey de Burgh ..., though removed (as

78

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80

Gray's notes are in the library of Pembroke College, Cambridge, but his comments are cited (with some variations) by Atkinson, VCH, vol. IV, 69, n.6 and in Sayers, 68 and n.6. Godwin, 213, did not mention an effigy on the tomb of Hotham when he wrote in 1601. Hugh's effigy (Cat. 3) probably was placed on Barnet's tomb during the same move, c.1684. Lysons, BL Add Ms 9461, “A Plan of the Cathedral Church of Ely, with the Choir as proposed to be removed to the East End, 1768 which work is now carrying on, Nov 1, 1770.” Ibid., fol. 19 has a birdseye view of the headless bishop with label “In the S Aisle of ely Cathedral, near the S Trancept.” This is a fairly accurate sketch, possibly taken by F Nash. Ibid., fol. 43 has a detail of the foliage from the side of the effigy, and a note that says “On the S Side of the nave a mutilated [illegible word] effigies of an ecclesiastic in Purbeck marb with a bird at his feet a scroll of roses round the verg of the slab head and hands gone.” See also Kerrich, BL Add Ms 6757B, fol. 39, whose comments corroborate Lysons's information: “the Old Bishop in the S Ayle close to the Lantern without a head with a wivern at his feet and his crosier cross'd diagonally over his body.” Ibid. This he wrote after having previously suggested that the effigy in Cat. 4 represented de Burgh.

360 most of the monuments of this church have been) from its original position.”81 The effigy was relocated again when the choir was removed to its third position in the mid-nineteenth century. In 1887, John Bacon recorded an unknown effigy with a goose at his feet against the north wall of the north aisle, in the sixth bay from the east end, opposite Bishop Redman's monument.82 He sketched and described the effigy, saying it had “hitherto escaped creditable recognition,” and then suggested that a comparison with the tombs of Eustace, Northwold, and Kilkenny would help to suggest an identification.83 He went on to suggest that the effigy could have been made for Bishop Fontibus (John de Fountains, d.1225), who was buried “before the high altar” and whose tomb was “discovered in 1850 between the present Norman shafts at the eastern end of Hotham’s work, upon relaying the floor of the choir and presbytery.” However, he admitted that “the wing of the bird at the foot and the roses around the border of the effigy are quite inexplicable, as it has no reference to the arms of Fontibus.” Stylistically, the effigy belongs with those carved towards the end of the thirteenth century. The drapery, formed of distinct high ridges below the chest, asymmetrical, u-shaped, and unevenly spaced, is typical of this period. Similarly shaped folds are seen on the effigy of Bishop Wyle at Salisbury (d.1271, Cat. 21), but those on the Ely bishop are fewer in number and much more pronounced. A much better comparison for the drapery is found in the Purbeck effigy of Bishop Ingelthorpe at 81 82

83

Lysons, vol. II, 61. CUL EDC 4/6/5, “Monts slabs and sites of graves in the eastern arm, c1887,” #2 on the plan. His notes in EDC 4/6/7, 21, mistakenly say that it is “on the bench opposite Bp Redman’s mont in the south [sic] aisle.” See also ibid., 24, for a pen and ink sketch of the effigy. Ibid., 21. He was writing in opposition to Millers's supposed identification of this effigy to Bishop Cox (d.1581), but I cannot find any statement to this effect in Millers. By Eustace, Bacon probably meant the Tournai slab now usually considered to have been made for Bishop Nigel.

361 Rochester (d.1291, Cat. 16).84 The Rochester bishop also provides a useful parallel in terms of its fringed detail. The use of carved fringes on vestments is an advanced feature seen only sparingly on ecclesiastical effigies until the last ten years of the century. It was introduced as a minor detail on the lappets, maniples and stoles of the first set of Wells effigies (Cats. 23-27) and the freestone effigy at Hereford of Bishop Aquablanca (d.1268; Cat. 10), and at the ends of the maniple on the Purbeck monument for Bishop Aymer de Valence (d. 1260; Cat. 31) and the basalt effigy for Bishop Bronescombe (d.1280; Cat. 9). By the 1290s, fringes had become a much more prominent feature, adorning the hem of the dalmatic and the ends of the stole and maniple on the Purbeck effigy of Ingelthorpe at Rochester (Cat. 16), and the dalmatic and stole of Bishop Giffard's Purbeck effigy at Worcester (tomb finished before 1301; Cat. 35). The Ely bishop has a fringe on the sudarium in addition to those on the dalmatic, stole, and maniple. These features suggest a date for the Ely bishop in the 1290s. The simple scroll of foliage with roses in low relief along the edges of the slab is unique, but a similar scroll (of ivy) appears along the edge of the slab of a c.1275 effigy at Rochester (Cat. 15) in between the larger spurs of leaves which supported the colonnettes. One later candidate whose tomb has yet been unaccounted for is Bishop Hugh of Balsham (d.1286).85 It would make sense that Balsham would follow the immediate

84

85

As also pointed out in Sayers, 73-6. She suggested that the foliage along the side of the Rochester bishop might have been similar to that on the Ely bishop, but it is not. Sayers also compared this effigy to that of Archbishop Pecham (Cat. 1), saying that they have a “not dissimilar” drapery style; this is a much less successful comparison. Esdaile, 4, first made this suggestion in 1973, based on superficial stylistic analysis. See also the tentative comments by Lindley, “The Monastic Cathedral,” 237, n.143, who remarked that the effigy is “distinguished by its sharp-fold drapery and flat treatment, reminiscent of the Lambeth Apocalype [sic] style: this causes a slight problem as far as dating is concerned, since it could only be the monument of Bishop Hugh de Balsham, who did not die until 1286, unless he had ordered the effigy at an earlier

362 precedents set by Hugh Northwold and Bishop Kilkenny, both of whom also were commemorated by a Purbeck effigy in relief. Arguing against this attribution, however, is the fact that Balsham's tomb was placed in front of the high altar, and if this were his effigy it would have stood proud of the floor at an extremely inconvenient location; a brass slab would have been a more practical solution for a tomb in this location. The four early fourteenth-century bishops were also buried before the high altar, and therefore likely did not have raised effigies.86 Bishop John Kirkby (d. 1290), is a better candidate for the late Purbeck effigy. In addition to the fact that the style of the effigy corresponds with his date of death, he died wealthy and could afford a Purbeck effigy, and he was interred in the north aisle where a raised tomb would be less obstructive.87 The plaque at the tomb today says the effigy represents St Hugh of Lincoln because of the so-called goose at his feet. Aside from the fact that the creature is not a goose, the effigy is much too late in date and Hugh of Lincoln was never a bishop at Ely. This effigy has recently been the subject of a new publication by Jane Sayers, which was seen by this author after this entry was written, although some of her comments have been incorporated into the notes. Her analysis benefits from a close look at the early medieval manuscripts of Ely's chronicle. She does not, however, spend much

86

87

date.” Maddison, Ely Cathedral, 59, agreed with Lindley, but Sayers, 78-9, dismissed both Esdaile's and Lindley's attribution of this effigy to Balsham based on style. Atkinson, VCH, vol. IV, 74, however, stated that the monument belonged to a bishop from first half of the fourteenth century, and suggested, without explaining his reasoning, Bishop Ketene, who was among those described as buried in the pavement before the high altar. More specifically, the medieval sources state that he was buried before the cross on the north side of the choir before the altar of St John the Baptist (LPL Lambeth Ms 448, fols. 46r and 110r; BL Cotton Titus A.I, fol. 110r, and BL Ms Harley 3721, fol. 38r: “coram cruce ex parte boriali chori ante altare sancti Johannis Baptiste,” all cited in Sayers, n. 45). See Sayers, 81-3, on his wealth. If this effigy was located north of the choir, the damage to it could well have occurred as a result of the fall of the central tower in 1322. Maddison, “The Gothic Cathedral,” 127-34, implied that it fell in a northerly direction, but see Lindley, “The Monastic Cathedral,” 22-3, who believed that the damage from the collapsed tower may have been confined to the choir proper.

363 time with the antiquarian sources or detail the monument's physical history. Sayers's aim was to identify the effigy, and she independently reached the same conclusion, using some of the same reasoning, that the effigy most likely belonged to Bishop Kirkby.

EXETER Exeter Cathedral has three thirteenth-century effigies and one twelfth-century effigy, probably the earliest-known relief effigy to be carved in Purbeck. Three are in the Lady Chapel and one is on the north side of the presbytery. The bishops' tombs apparently suffered great damage in the civil wars, as it is told that the rebels “strook off the heads of all the statues, on all monuments in the church, especially they defaced the bishops tombs, leaving one without a head, another without a nose, one without a hand, and another without an arm.”88 After this, Bishop Lamplugh (1676-88) was credited for “restoring the monuments of his episcopal predecessors to their original sites which during the Commonwealth had been thrust into the darkest corners of the Cathedral and there were rudely misplaced and obscured.”89 Assessing original locations of burials for twelfth- and thirteenth-century bishops is difficult not only because of mistreatment in the seventeenth century, but also because the church was rebuilt, from the east end westwards, beginning in the late thirteenth century under Bishop Bronescombe. Consequently, his and that of his successor Quinil (d.1291), are the only tombs from that time period in their original locations90; the others must have been re-situated after the

88

89 90

From Mercurius Rusticus, cited in John Jones, ECL D&C MS 3549E, 1787, 12. It is not possible to match up the existing effigies with those the author says were damaged. Printed in Oliver, Lives, 155-6, from a sermon given in 1684. Although Quinil's seems to have been removed, then replaced when the Lady Chapel was restored in

364 east end was finished in the early fourteenth century (the high altar was consecrated in 1328). References in the fabric accounts from c.1320 prove that at the very least, the tomb of Robert Warelwast (d.1155), and the tomb of William Brewer (d.1244), received some attention at that time.91

Cat 6 Current location: south side of Lady Chapel, set into the blind arcade in the second bay from the east wall. The easternmost of the pair in this bay. Measurements: Height of whole from plinth, 26 cm. Width at head, 82 cm; width at feet, 59 cm. Length at sides, 210 cm. Figure length, 169 cm, with very small head. Depth of figure from the sunken background, approx. 5 cm. Identification: unknown, perhaps Bishop Robert Warelwast (d.1155) Major features: A deep tapered Purbeck lid with scalloped sides and an effigy carved in very low relief on the surface. This tomb is one of a pair situated within the blind arcade along the wall of the chapel. The bay is divided into two niches, one for each tomb, each a tall pointed arch with a cusped cinquefoiled inner molding and blind tracery in the spandrels. The lid, obviously intended to rise above floor level, is deeper than most slabs (approx. 26 cm), and the sides are carved with shallow scalloped vertical grooves. A roll molding forms the border around the upper part of the slab, framing the effigy. The effigy barely rises from a sunken ground, and does not exceed the height of the roll

91

1820 (Oliver, Lives, 193). That of Brewer was actually being re-dug: Erskine, “Accounts of the Fabric,” vol. I, 114, 130. See also Oliver, Lives, 21, 36, and 382.

365 molding at the edges of the lid. The bishop in effigy stands in a niche with a rudimentary pointed arch supported by stylized foliate capitals and engaged colonnettes ending in rounded bases at either side of the slab. In between the colonnettes and the outer roll molding is a raised flat band, around the two long sides and top. An angel hovers in each spandrel of the pointed arch, shown ¾ length, with wings outstretched and holding a censer. The angels are awkwardly twisted in pose; they have wide, bulging eye sockets; their wings are small, curling at the tip and rendered into feathers by means of curved incised lines; and their drapery is formed of clumsy bands of cloth folded around them in wide but shallow parallel ridges. The angels differ slightly from each other in details. At the bishop's feet is a beast with two bodies and one head. The bodies are symmetrically arranged with the head at the center. The face of the beast is damaged, but the shape of it and the ridges of hair on top suggest possibly a ?human head. Large wings are folded over the rounded backs, the back legs are visible, a knobbly 'spine' runs along each belly, and the tails disappear behind the two colonnettes. The crosier spears the back of the beast's body on the bishop's right. Like the angels, the beast is simply rendered, the details formed by deep grooves. The figure of the bishop is extremely flat, with three-dimensionality indicated by the layers and surface treatment of vestments rather than by modeling of the body. His left hand down by his waist grasps a crosier, which ends in a simple crook at his left shoulder. The right hand is folded across the body, palm outwards, two fingers raised in blessing. The pose is not successful, the right arm especially curving like rubber at the

366 elbow rather than bending at an angle. The face is almost concave in profile and triangular in shape. The eyes are open with holes drilled for pupils. Around the curve of the mouth are incised parallel lines and strong nasal-labial lines. The beard is indicated by incised cross-hatched lines. The mitre is pinched at the sides rather than triangular in shape, and has a decorative band at the base and sides. 'Beads' of hair protrude from under the base of the mitre. His head is not on a cushion. The amice embraces a tubular neck. The drapery is clearly delineated, each layer of garment rendered in successive layers of stone, and each fold of cloth a broad, flat ridge in profile. The curves of the body are not visible in relief, but are rather suggested by the lines of the drapery. The sharply pointed chasuble is rendered in a series of eight equally sharply pointed v-shaped ridges evenly spaced from the neck of the chasuble to its tip. Adding to the unsuccessful rendering of the arms, these ridges continue as curves around the upper arms and over the shoulders. To indicate the curve of the legs below the undergarments, each leg displays a series of shallow half-moon ridges, and the depression of cloth in between his legs is likewise indicated with some incised curves. The dalmatic and tunicle both have clear splits at the sides, and an incised band around the edging. The ends of the stole and the maniple are also carved in relief. The feet are disproportionately tiny. Condition: There is a break across the animals at the feet, extending down through the base. The scalloped Purbeck at the east end shows signs of breaking away. The nose and the right hand are broken, and the lid shows some surface wear, particularly on the beast at the feet.

367 History, identification and scholarship: This and another episcopal effigy nearby (Cat. 7) have a similar history, as both were affected by renovations in the Lady Chapel. The earliest mention of this pair of tombs in the Lady Chapel comes from the writings of visitors to the cathedral in the seventeenth century.92 A lieutenant from Norwich visiting the cathedral in 1635 provided the earliest known account, although he merely mentioned that in the Lady Chapel were “2 old Abbots [sic] in marble.”93 Symonds's comment from a visit in 1644 is a little more specific: “under the south wall in an arch lyes a statue cutt in marble, very are [sic] work: a bishop, very old. Another right over against it, ill done, in the like stone.”94 From 1657 until 1820, the monuments were not visible, because the chapel was remodeled as a library. A false floor four feet higher than the original and a wooden wainscoting covered the tombs, so that for 150 years their presence went almost completely unnoticed.95 Among the commentators in the eighteenth century, only Browne Willis, in his manuscript plan of the church dated c.1720, seemed to have been

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93 94 95

Leland, vol. I, 226, did not notice either of these during his visit in the sixteenth century, though he did mention other tombs in the Lady Chapel. Nor do they appear to have been in another location in the church at that time, as no other tombs noted by him match the descriptions of these two. Hoker, a sixteenth-century local historian, gave a history of bishops and compiled contemporary knowledge of burial places, but did not make an attempt to match bishops with the existing tombs, nor to describe the tombs. BL Lansdowne 213, fol 375b. Symonds, 90. Oliver, Lives, 194, said this changed was ordered in 1657. A note found among the antiquary Crabbe's papers (printed by Swanton, Notes and Queries) speculates that the wooden paneling was erected “most probably before Dr Vilvain’s Time.” The 1787 study of tombs made by John Jones (ECL D&C Ms 3549E), and a plan engraved and published in 1757 (ECL P/2/31), omits the tombs entirely, as does Millers's 1807 history of the church, and the text portion, written by Lyttelton in 1754, of John Carter’s 1797 Plans, Elevations, Sections, and Specimens of the Architecture and the Ornaments of the Cathedral Church of Exeter. Elsewhere in the chapel, the late seventeenth-century tombs of Judge Doderidge and his wife, and the tombs of Bishops Stafford and Bronescombe, remained visible.

368 aware of their one-time existence.96 His plan shows two monuments with effigies in the second bay, one on the north wall and one on the south. He labeled these “the monuments of two bishops of whom no memory.” In another manuscript he stated that his information came from an account of the church taken in the 1650s.97 The tombs were rediscovered Oct 31, 1820 when the library was moved into the Chapter House and the chapel refitted for worship. The find was reported in the local paper, the Western Luminary.98 The older of the pair (the effigy here under consideration) was found on the north side of the chapel, under a wide arch in the western half of the bay, while the other (Cat. 7) was opposite on the south wall; this placement matches that noted by Symonds in 1644 and recorded by Willis. Since the renovation meant that the tombs escaped the general restoration under Bishop Lamplugh (1676-88), the placement of these monuments as found in 1820 most likely dated from shortly after the Lady Chapel was built (begun late thirteenth century). The reporter stated that they were “placed in gothic niches of much later date [than the effigies], and appear to be the lids only of sarcophagi, and to have been removed from some other station, to that which they now occupy.” The scalloped lid, though tapered, was placed in the niche so that the “front is placed parallel with the nitch, and the upper corner of the lid at the back inserted four of five inches into the wall.” They rested on masonry bases not part of the original tombs. Oliver, in 1821, described the niches as “surmounted by a cinque-foil arch of graceful proportion and exquisite workmanship” and noted that “The entire surface of the

96 97 98

Bodl, MS Willis 46, fol. 186v, c.1720. Bodl, MS Willis 38, 186. The final digit of the date is illegible as the manuscript is bound too tightly. Nov. 7, 1820. See also Oliver, History of Exeter, 128-9, published in 1821, and the contemporary description printed by Swanton.

369 walls, pillars, and mouldings, is painted with the three alternate colours of red, yellow, and blue.” He did not discuss the effigies in detail, though he too noted that they were likely brought here from other areas in the cathedral.99 The effigies were illustrated and briefly discussed by Lysons in 1822.100 John Britton, who visited Exeter in 1823 and 1824, included the pair in his published history of the church and illustrated them.101 He recorded that in May 1822, the effigy on the north side was moved to the south wall opposite, so that the pair rested next to each other as they are today. After a brief description, including noting that the nose on the effigy was broken, Britton attempted stylistic analysis: “the style of execution is of a remote age, and in that respect this figure bears much similarity to the effigy of Abbot Laurentius (erroneously inscribed Vitalis), in the cloisters of Westminster Abbey [Cat. 45].” He discussed the possibility that the effigy represented Bishop Osbern (d.1103), but thought the advanced age of the bones fit better with what we know about Bishop Bartholomew's age at death (d.1184). In addition, “pointed arches were not in vogue in Osbern's time,” and the figure of Bartholomew on his seal “bears a considerable resemblance to the effigy on the tomb; the mitre, which is peculiarly formed, is nearly alike in both representations.” The relatively low mitre on the seal does bear some resemblance to that on the effigy, but the vestments are not at all like those on the effigy and the seal does not

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100 101

Oliver, History of Exeter, 128-9. He deferred the description of the monuments to his “esteemed friend, John Jones, of Franklyn, esquire, [who] has been engaged in investigating their history, with a view to publication.” Jones had published an ichnography and written an account of the tombs in the cathedral in the eighteenth century, but his account of the tombs in the Lady Chapel was never published. Lysons, vol. VI, cccxxxii-cccxxxvi. Britton, Exeter, plate XX.A; see also his plan (dated 1825), and text p. 126 and 131. The move is also recounted in Oliver, Lives, 190-91. The seventeenth-century tombs were moved into the second bay on the north side, taking the place that this effigy just vacated.

370 confirm an identity to Bartholomew.102 Once moved into the same bay, it appears each was placed on a modern high tomb chest, as demonstrated by an 1830 engraving and a photograph taken before the 1870 restoration.103 These bases must have been removed in the 1870s, as the effigies now rest directly on the plinth. Whatever knowledge regarding identification that may have been attached to these two effigies before they were covered up was not recorded, and over the intervening 150 years, their very presence, let alone their identifications, was forgotten. Therefore there is no ongoing tradition associating these monuments with any names. The sources agree that this effigy is considerably older than the others in the church, but identification varies from bishops from the late eleventh century to the late twelfth. Opening the tomb did not provide any clues. The most common attribution is to Bishop Bartholomew (d.1184); Lysons may have been the first to make this statement, and Britton agreed. Modern studies of monuments of Exeter are not so definite. Bishop and Prideaux believe the effigy dates to before Bartholomew's death in 1184, and suggest instead that it might represent an early bishop, such as Leofric (d.1072), made sometime after Leofric's death but before Bartholomew's.104 Hope and Lloyd agreed that it might be a retrospective tomb for Leofric, made “possibly at the time, 1133, when Bishop William Warelwast transferred his body, together with that of Bishop Osbern (d.1103), from the

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104

Bishop and Prideaux, 121, deny even that the mitre looks the same. For the seal, see Birch, Catalogue of the Seals, no. 1539. Engraving of Lady Chapel, drawn by TH Clarke, engraved by Wm Deeble, published 1830. All four recently moved tombs in the second bay are shown on new high chests. The photograph, mentioned in Bishop and Prideaux, 121, confirms the raised bases. Bishop and Prideaux, 118-9.

371 crypt of the Saxon cathedral to the new Norman church, the crypt of which lies under the present St James's chapel.”105 Most recently, Bauch, in his chapter on early English effigies, accepted the attribution to Bartholomew and dated the effigy accordingly, though the scope of his study is too broad to allow him to question popular attributions. This is unfortunate, as it bears significantly on his dating, and thus on his discussion of formal development of tombs in England in general.106 Looking to early written sources for evidence for burial location is not conclusive. Hoker, Godwin, and Oliver offered conflicting evidence as to which bishop was buried where, and in any case, these two effigies were not originally located in the Lady Chapel as it was not built until the late thirteenth century. Those who have attempted to date the effigy based on style have suggested various dates. Gardner, describing it as “very flatly rendered, drawn rather than modeled,” dated it to 1180, though Drury dated it to much earlier in the twelfth century.107 My own opinion is that the effigy dates to c.1160. It is not a sophisticated carving like the Tournai slabs at Salisbury (Cat. 17) and Ely (Fig. 9) that are probably of midtwelfth-century date. A retrospective effigy for Leofric is possible, but we do not know for certain of any occurrence of retrospective effigies before the series at Wells was sculpted in the early thirteenth century, as part of a specific campaign to illustrate primacy in the diocese. The seal made for Bishop Bartholomew demonstrates a more 105

106 107

Hope and Lloyd, 44. They also note that in the fabric rolls of 1418/19, there is a reference to “twenty pence pro scriptura lapidis Domini Leofrici primi ecclesiae Exon episcopi, though this may have been a pavement stone brought from Crediton somewhere about 1050 when the new See of Exeter was created.” Bauch, 82. A Gardner, 154; Drury, “Early Ecclesiastical Effigies,” placed it c.1100, but in “Use of Purbeck,” he suggested c.1130.

372 accurate knowledge of relief and of anatomy and drapery than does the drapery on the tomb effigy; while I acknowledge that these were made by two different artists and that comparing style across the two forms of media is problematic, a date in the 1180s for the tomb seems too late. The arrangement of motifs on the slab likens it strongly to the Tournai effigy at Salisbury (Cat. 17), probably brought into the country by 1150. The sculptor's awkwardness with the medium of Purbeck also makes an early date likely, as quarrying and carving Purbeck was still a new industry.108 Additionally, a similar approach to carving the beard and hair is found on the sculpted head from the tomb of Ogier the Dane at Meaux, which Sauerlander dates to c.1160. Unfortunately we have little documentary evidence for Exeter's twelfth-century bishops. I suggest the possibility, based on style, the growth of the Purbeck industry, and on what little we know about bishops at Exeter, that this might be the effigy of Robert Warelwast (d.1155), whom we know was buried in the cathedral, whose monument was mentioned in the fabric accounts c.1320, and to whom an existing monument has not been assigned.109

Cat. 7 Current location: in south wall of Lady Chapel, under blind arcade in second bay from east wall; the westernmost of the pair in this bay.

108 109

Blair, “Purbeck Marble.” Blair dates the earliest Purbeck effigies, including this one, to after c.1160. The statutes indicate that Robert Warelwast was buried in the choir of cathedral (printed in JN Dalton and GH Doble, Ordinale Exon (London: Harry Bradshaw Society, 1909), vol. II, 542), and his tomb is mentioned in 1320-1 (Erskine, Accounts of the Fabric, vol. I, 130). Robert of Chichester is a possible candidate for the effigy, but there is no indication that he was buried in the cathedral. William Warelwast (d.1137), Robert's uncle, was buried at Plympton Priory (DNB).

373 Identification: ?Simon of Apulia (d.1223) Measurements: Width at head, 86 cm; width at foot, 58 cm. Length of whole, 225 cm; length of figure, 212 cm (as is, missing tip of mitre). Depth of effigy from slab, approx. 21 cm (taken at head). Major features: A gently tapered Purbeck slab with effigy, with an unusually high amount of surface ornament, now badly damaged. No other effigy rivals the intensity and delicacy of surface detail on this tomb. The slab is under the westernmost arch in the bay, which has evidence of chevron painting along the back wall. The slab has been placed on a new base which rests on the plinth, the coffin no longer present. The effigy rises in strong relief from the slab and stands within a niche. The canopy of the niche is not given as much care in treatment as other aspects of the effigy. It has a simple rounded molding, is trefoiled, and is in very low relief so that the head stands proud of it. The canopy is supported on engaged colonnettes at either side of the figure, with stiff-leaf capitals and round impost blocks. The outer edges of the slab (damaged on the south side) are decorated with a low-relief frieze of flowers and leaves, in a symmetrical and repeated pattern consisting of paired stiff-leaf curls of small leaves either side of a large tongue-like leaf with a raised vein in the center. Angels stand on either side of the canopy in the same plane as the effigy, each with one leg bent as if striding up to the canopy's peak. The sculptor has gone to the trouble to make them slightly different. The torso of the angel at the left shoulder is turned slightly so as to face towards the bishop. He had a halo, his wings were spread on either side (the feathers are

374 still visible on one wing), and across his body he holds what may once have been an open scroll or the chains of a censer, swung towards the bishop's head.110 The other angel is more frontal and static, with hands held together in front of him. An indeterminate lump of masonry at its midriff was probably once the head of the bishop's crosier. Drapery below the angel's arms is rendered in pointed v-folds in a nested, consistent pattern, and cloth falls over his legs in parallel folds. At the bishop's feet, there is a beast carved with exquisite detail. It consists of two bodies and a single head in the center, which bites the garment hanging down between the bishop's feet (cf. Cat. 6). The long snout is drawn up in ridges and the teeth bared in a snarl. The nostrils and eyes are drilled for depth. The head has feathers, and the ears are laid back close to the head. The body then splits into opposite directions, each side with front paws with claws and further careful detail along the back. The hind ends transform into long serpent-like curling stems, deeply undercut, ending in two broad sprays of foliage with a trilobe motif; additional smaller sprigs break off from the main stem. The two sides are slightly different. There is also some red paint or adhesive in the beast's eye sockets. The figure of the bishop raises high in relief, particularly the head, which has a large and heavily decorated mitre. The body is not heavily undercut at the sides and rises gently in an arc from the slab. The stance is distinctive, with arms folded across the front of his body over the staff of his crosier. The right hand is held horizontally and two fingers are outstretched in a gesture of blessing. The crosier crosses the body from the right shoulder to the left foot. The face is smooth and not bearded, but much damaged. 110

Hamilton Rogers, 43, stated in 1877 that the angels hold “labels.”

375 The eyes appear to have been open. The hair is visible across the forehead arranged in little curls, and longer curls around his ears, each lock comprised of incised parallel strands The detail on the vestments was once abundant, and when painted and adorned with imitation jewels, this figure would have rivaled the most impressive metalwork. The mitre has raised bands with alternating rounded and elliptical indentations for applied ornament resembling jewels. The cloth between the bands has indentations in the form of two large flowers, with smaller indentations dotted around. The amice also has indentations for jewels. The chasuble is arranged in multiple small, delicate folds of cloth, in a nested V-pattern, and has a decorative border. The apparel on his chest is adorned with foliate swirls in low relief (cf. Cat. 8). He wears a Y-shaped orphrey, decorated with elliptical indentations and incised borders. His maniple hangs over the left sleeve, with an elaborate border at the bottom, and incised lozenge patterns up the length of it. At the bottom of the dalmatic there is a wide decorative border with a repeating pattern of indentations for gems, each hole with a tiny incised outline. The left sleeve also has remains of wide holes along the border. The same pattern is found on the border of the tunicle, and the alb had a wide decorative band at the bottom of approximately three inches, with incised detail. The stole has a basket-weave surface pattern on it, with similar cut places for gems at the bottom. His sandals have a decorative band down the front. History, identification and scholarship: As with Cat. 6, this effigy was covered by the flooring of the library until its

376 rediscovery in 1820. This effigy was found under the south arcade, in the westernmost arch, the same place it is today.111 Investigation into the burial was made at the time: Britton recounted that this lid was taken up by John Jones, who described under it “within a cavity of ashler-work [sic] ... the skull and other bones of the deceased prelate, together with the lower part of a crosier staff, of red fir, having a tapering point, notched, to receive an indented ferula.”112 The monuments were given new bases and placed together on the south side in 1822, and the monuments of the Judge and his wife were placed opposite, in the north bay. Several descriptions of the monument contemporary with its discovery give details as to the condition in which it was found. A week after the effigy was exposed, the local paper printed a brief notice: the effigy was “carved in good stile and in much higher relief than the former [i.e. the other effigy uncovered opposite, Cat. 6]. The arms and hands are placed in easy and natural positions on the body, over the staff of the crozier; the head or crook is defaced. The mitre of this figure, is of a more recent form than the other; the feet rest on a chimera, carved in a stile of spirit and beauty, that would do honour to a period of more refined art. The head is that of a wolf, terminating the body of a serpent, branching off on each side, and scrolling down the sides of the lid, and finally branching off into rich foilage [sic], tastefully arranged by the feet of the figure; between which the head is seen.”113 A description found in the papers of William Crabbe 111

112 113

Western Luminary, Nov 7, 1820; Oliver, Lives, 190-91; idem, History of Exeter, 129; and the description printed in Swanton. Britton, Exeter, 132, however, seems to have made a mistake in his text where he stated that Bishop Apulia, to whom he assigned this effigy, was in the north wall of Lady chapel, and was moved to the south with the other. The plan shows them both in the south aisle, where they were in 1823 when he visited. Britton, Exeter, 140. This tomb was opened Oct. 31, 1820. Western Luminary, Nov 7, 1820.

377 adds, “the figure is represented as holding a Crosier but the Crook was gone, and instead of the usual attitude of bestowing benediction the arms are crossed over the crosier upon the Breast.”114 Britton was probably the first to publish an illustration of the effigy, and gave a brief description of it: “it may be remarked that his effigy, (vide / Plate XX. C [sic]) which is sculptured in bold relief from a block of Purbeck marble, seven feet four inches long, and one foot in thickness, is far more magnificently vested than those of the former prelates: his mitre, likewise, is more richly ornamented. On each side of the highpointed trefoil-headed arch, which forms the canopy, is an angel in bas-relief: at his feet, gnawing his garments, is a double-bodied monster, whose hinder parts terminate in foliage.”115 The flakiness of the surface was commented on by these early viewers. By the time Britton saw it, he noted that much of the marble was decomposed, yet it appears from the description found in Crabbe's notes that this was not the case when it was first uncovered: “Shortly after exposure this monument scaled very much, and the sharpness of the Sculpture soon disappeared in many parts. The stone of the opposite monument remains unaffected.”116 A finished drawing by Edward Blore must have been taken shortly after the discovery of the slab, as it shows the effigy in much better condition than it is now.117 The face was then intact, as well as the foliage along the sides of the slab, the stiff-leaf capitals on the colonnettes, and the detail of the apparel on the shoulder and 114 115 116 117

Swanton, 284-5. Britton, Exeter, 126. The image of the effigy is actually Pl. XX. B. Swanton, 284-5. BL Add Ms 42008, fol. 5, a side elevation taken from the Lady Chapel. He labels it as Bishop Marshall. The possibility exists that he fabricated some of the surface details to make the effigy look better than it was, but the fact that he shows the crosier and one of the angels as broken (the contemporary written descriptions testify to the broken crosier head) makes it more likely that he accurately drew what he saw.

378 chest. Blore also drew surface ornament on the garments at the legs, and five distinct vfolds where the chasuble hangs below the arm. The only damage shown in his drawing is the break in the crosier at the shoulder and the marring on the upper surface of the angel. Britton's description of the monument provides some information about the painting on the back wall of the arch: “The whole interior of the arch which contains this monument has been painted in distemper; at the back was an episcopal figure, seated, in the act of benediction, and near him a female, throwing incense: his principle vestments, which were azure coloured, were represented as richly embroidered at the edges, in different hues. These remains of ancient art have been recently obliterated by limewash.” The painting was visible to WR Lethaby, who made a sketch of it in 1897, and Hope and Lloyd, writing in 1973, mentioned that “until a few years ago” the early fourteenth-century painting of the bishop was still discernible.118 Early nineteenth-century commentators varied wildly in attaching a date or identification to this effigy. The author of the 1820 newspaper article suggested that both effigies found in the Lady Chapel antedated the tomb of Bishop Marshall (d.1206), while among Crabbe's papers was the suggestion that this effigy was “of more modern date, appearing from the Sculpture and Ornaments for about the time of Stapledon,” i.e. early fourteenth century. Lysons and Britton attributed the effigy to Bishop Simon of Apulia (d.1223), and this attribution has been widely accepted.119 Bishop and Prideaux noted, as 118

119

Hope and Lloyd, 64-5. Bishop and Prideaux, 120, could still make it out in 1922: “The mural painting referred to has been very roughly treated in clearing off the lime wash, but can still be deciphered. The Bishop is bearded, and with long flowing hair; wearing a mitre richly decorated, and holding a simple pastoral staff. The pattern of the embroidery on neck and shoulders is very similar to that on the effigy below. The maniple and apparel of the alb are also richly embroidered.” Lysons, vol. VI, cccxxxii-cccxxxvi; Britton, Exeter, 126. Hope and Lloyd, and Bishop and Prideaux, in their discussions of the monument, retain this attribution, and Lepine and Orme also do not dispute it.

379 did Hope and Lloyd, the care with which the remains and the effigy were reburied in the Lady Chapel when it was completed. Bishop and Prideaux employed a comparison with the effigy of Bishop Marshall (Cat. 8) to confirm the possibility of the monument belonging to Simon of Apulia. This is partly based on the “distinctive and unusual” design of the apparel, which they note is similar to that of Bishop Marshall and of the bishop painted on the rear wall of the arch, “confirming the opinion that all three are of about the same period.”120 The high relief of the effigy they feel indicates a later date than Marshall's effigy. Simon of Apulia was, according to Hoker and Oliver, buried in his church, though neither source offers further details.121 Despite the lack of documentation on Simon's burial, the effigy is unlikely to belong to any other bishop from the thirteenth century. Bishop Brewer (d.1244), who donated land for the new chapter house, was by all accounts buried in the center of the choir under a flat slab.122 Bishops Bronescombe (d.1280; Cat. 9) and Quinel (d.1291) have tombs securely assigned to them in the Lady Chapel. Bishop Blondy (d.1257) may offer the best alternative. He is said to have been 120 121 122

Although Lloyd and Hope say the painting is early fourteenth-century, and I agree. Hoker, 249-50; Oliver, Lives, 34. He is not mentioned by Leland. Leland, vol. I, 226 and Hoker, 251, give Brewer's burial placement in the middle of the choir; Hoker added “under a plain marble.” Godwin, 325, described his burial in 1601 as “under a plaine marble stone in the middle of the presbytery, not farre from the Bishops See.” Oliver, Lives, 36, added in 1861 that “According to the Martyrologium his mortal remains were deposited nearly in the centre of the choir of the Cathedral. When the floor was relaid in 1763 the marble slab that covered his remains was removed, and a coffin shaped thus was discovered and opened; the body was wrapt in a coarse serge, with a leathern girdle tied round the waist; a pewter chalice lay by it, with part of a crosier.” In the text written in 1754 accompanying Carter, Plans, Elevations, Sections, and Specimens, 3, Lyttelton noted an epitaph to Brewer on the floor near Marshall’s tomb. A plan of monument slabs taken before 1763, in the cathedral archives, ECA P/2/1, shows the tomb slab to Brewer near the piers to the west of Marshall's tomb, and gives an inscription thereon. See also Jones's ichnography in ECA P/2/31, 1757, ECL Ms 3549E, 62, in which Jones included Brewer in his “account of some bishops who lie buried in the choir the memorials of whom were either removed or destroyed when the chequered pavement was laid there some few years since.” This location in the presbytery floor dates to 1319-20, as a note in the fabric accounts regarding a burial being dug for Brewer proves (Erskine, vol. I, 114).

380 buried on the north side of the choir, but no surviving tomb is securely attributed to him, despite Oliver's statement that “an ancient inventory records his gift of a covering for his tomb.”123 The style of the effigy under consideration, however, does not fit with others being produced around the middle of the century. Effigies from the 1250s, such as the trio at Ely, Lichfield and Carlisle, and Walter de Gray at York (Cats. 2, 4, 12, 36), tend to be much more fully undercut, the figures and canopies rising more boldly out of the slab, the gestures more expansive, and more attention paid to richly curling foliage. This effigy has features that keep it within the first four decades of the thirteenth century. It shares a similar body shape, compact pose, and foliate border with the c.1246 effigy of Bingham at Salisbury (Cat. 19), both, in different ways, masterful works of finessed detail. However, it does not have the flowing curves and complexity of drapery of the Salisbury effigy. An effigy in a similar state of decay but which once also had minute carved detail, which has angels arranged in the same manner, and which displays the same closed stance and arrangement of arms (although with different overall body shape and canopy depth), can be found at St David's Cathedral: the inscription identifies the Welsh effigy as belonging to Bishop Anselm de la Grace, 1231-47. The pose is also shared by the effigy on the north side of the lady chapel at Worcester (Cat. 33; 1220s), another monument characterized by rich surface treatment, and the retrospective effigies at Wells (Cats. 2327), here dated to the 1220s). The sculptor of this effigy looked to the other effigies in the cathedral for

123

Oliver, Lives, 39, gave the location but did not cite his source. Hope, and Lloyd, 46, suggested that the base currently under Marshall may have belonged to Blondy.

381 inspiration for certain details, such as the standing angels and the unusual double-bodied beast seen also on Cat. 6. The highly ornamented apparel and the relatively low-relief canopy out of which the head rises prominently are both details found on Cat. 8 (although the low relief canopy also appears on later effigies such as Cats. 10, 9, the latter also in Exeter). The hair, falling in individual locks with parallel grooves, each lock curling around the base of the mitre in a row of single clumps, is similar to Cat. 8. Despite the similarity of some motifs, however, the overall style and execution is very different. The body is less rigid than Cat. 8, and the clarity of the surface is replaced with elaborate carving on the drapery, the beast, the angels, and foliage. Overall, the effigy seems to date from c.1230-1240, and given the few details known about bishops' burials at Exeter, Simon of Apulia (d.1223) seems the best (though by no means certain) candidate.

Cat. 8 Current location: north side of presbytery, third bay from the east Identification: ?Bishop Henry Marshall (d.1206) Measurements: Width of slab at foot, 58 cm (measured across top of slab; width measuring at the bottom of the slab, 66 cm). Width at head, 80 cm (measured across top of slab; width taken at the bottom of the slab, 90 cm). Length of slab, 202 cm (measured at top of slab; length measured at bottom of slab, 209 cm). Length of figure, 182 cm. Major features: Tapered Purbeck slab with effigy on a decorated Purbeck tomb chest, though the slab and chest do not belong together. The base that is currently supporting the effigy is

382 of a different size and stylistic character entirely. A better fit for the effigy's original base is the panel now hanging on the wall of the north aisle, in the next bay to the east (see below, base #2). This effigy is unlike any other surviving episcopal effigy in style; in particular, its bold features, clearly depicted, and the smooth and highly polished surfaces set it apart from others. The effigy slab, defined by a roll molding at the edges, is slightly smaller than the intermediary chamfered slab on which it rests, which in turn is smaller than the chest on which it sits. The left side of the effigy is obscured because of the stone choir screen placed closely and rather awkwardly over the top of the figure. The effigy is housed within a niche. The canopy around the bishop's head is a barely-pointed trefoil arch, and is in much lower relief than the bishop's head, which rises dramatically out of it (similar to Cat. 7). At each side of the central trefoiled arch is a smaller gabled opening, housing a demi-figure of an angel. These openings and the angels in them are in low relief and parallel to the slab, so that the angels, like the bishop, look up to the presbytery ceiling. The angels are posed in a frontal position, with wings spread symmetrically to either side. A similar angel, frontal in a simple gabled niche and carved parallel to the slab, is also found in the effigy of Bingham at Salisbury (Cat. 19), though the figures are rendered in different styles. The more visible angel at the right shoulder spreads open a scroll. Some detail of the feathers is visible, and he wears a halo. His drapery is arranged in horizontal parallel low-relief ridges at the waist, and vertical ridges on the chest. Over the angel at the bishop's left, a tubular protrusion of stone supports the head of the crosier, which cannot be seen clearly because of the choir screen. It appears to have a rounded edge, the

383 foliage in the center of the crook contained rather than twining outwards. The canopy rests on engaged colonnettes at the sides of the slab, each with round base, impost and abacus, and bell capital. The bishop's feet rest on a beast which crouches so that it faces the south side of the tomb. The spine is a prominent ridge of small knobs, and the head small and triangular, with large eyes and wrinkled face. He once bit the end of the crosier, which is now missing. The bishop's face is smooth, not bearded, with a sharp beaked nose and bulging eyes and lids, the pupils of the eyes drilled for depth. The features are in high relief, and in an unusually good state of repair. The hair is arranged in short separated curled locks across the forehead, with longer locks at the sides. His head rests on a slight pillow, on which the unusually long mitre lappets are visible. The bishop's right hand is held close to his chest, and turned so that it faces outwards in gesture of blessing. He wears a ring on his middle finger, over the episcopal glove. The left hand holds the crosier which angles across his body. The effigy is characterized by wide, smooth surfaces and bold linear detail. It rises high in relief from the slab, and stands proud of the canopy and colonnettes which frame it. Figure and drapery rise in a solid block from the slab, with no undercutting, and no indication of the shape of legs under drapery, nor of recumbency in general. The overall mass of the body is rectangular, the top being essentially flat rather than curved over the shape of a torso. The general shape of the body and clothing is a bell, with the drapery flaring on either side of the legs from the smoothly sloping shoulders.

384 The folds and separate parts of the vestments are clearly defined. Each layer of clothing is clearly differentiated as a thick layer of stone, and the surfaces are smooth, planar, and even where there are decorative features, these are strongly emphasized and seemingly placed on top of the solid smooth surface. The drapery retains a strong linear feel as found on some earlier effigies, but the linearity is applied here to a mass in higher relief than previously seen. The mitre is adorned with a smooth raised band across the base and another rising up to the central peak. The lappets are carved as a thick layer of stone with incised borders, as is the amice at his neck. The chasuble, long and pointed at the bottom, folds across the torso and over his arms in approximately eight nested curved ripples, extremely shallow in profile and narrow in width, almost like thin ropes placed on the surface. They are widely spaced except where the fabric gathers at his elbow. The shoulder adornment (the apparel) is formed of succulent trilobed foliage, rendered in bold relief (cf. Cat. 7). The orphrey, too, is in raised relief. The dalmatic is split at the sides of the legs, with an incised border at the hem and sides. The cloth is made to curl up on itself where it splits (in this, like Cat. 6). Under the dalmatic, the alb lies over the lower legs in a smooth curve, with smaller folds on either side formed of deeply chiseled tubular folds. The sleeves of both alb and dalmatic are made visible, and the ends of the stole have an incised border. History, identification and scholarship: Leland in c.1540 recorded the existence of a tomb to Bishop Marshall in the north part of the presbytery, probably in the third bay from the east, the same place in which a tomb attributed to him currently stands. Hoker stated that he was buried in the “North

385 wall of the Chauncell vnder a fayre Marble stone or Tombe.” Godwin, too, noted a “very faire tombe of marble” for Marshall on the north side of the presbytery. The lieutenant from Norwich who visited in 1635 concurred.124 An account dated 1644, however, mentioned tombs in three of the northern bays of the presbytery, but omitted that of Bishop Marshall.125 It is possible that the tomb that Leland, Hoker, Godwin, and the lieutenant had seen was moved as a result of the civil wars, and it has been suggested that the tomb we now call Marshall's was restored to that position during the episcopate of Bishop Lamplugh after the Restoration.126 Certainly the plan made by John Jones in 1757 shows a tomb to Marshall in that place, and his text written 1787 confirms that the tomb he saw was the same as exists there today: “Next is an altar Tomb on the sides of which are three small Gothick niches each containing the figure a saint [sic] sitting upon the top lies the effigy of a bishop in his Episcopal robes in his left hand a crozier his right lying on his breast with the palm upwards and the forefinger ringfinger and thumb extended and the other two fingers closed. The whole monument is of grey marble and entirely perfect.”127 John Carter's drawings of the monument taken in 1792 are the earliest known views.128 He sketched the tomb from the south, confirming that the effigy was married to its current base by then. Another view shows the north side of the tomb chest, affirming that the damage to the figures on that side had already occurred. His plans provide 124

125 126

127 128

Leland, vol. I, 227; Hoker, 248-9; Godwin, 324; BL Lansdowne 213, fol 375b. The latter mentions in order the tombs of Stapeldon, then Lacy, then Marshall on the north side of the choir. Symonds, 90. Hope and Lloyd, 32, conjecture that the separate components of the monument were married together under Bishop Lamplugh. ECL D&C Ms 3549E, 59. BL Add MS 29931, fol. 107 is a side view and details of the tomb from the south and west sides, while fol. 108 has details of the tomb chest from the north side.

386 conflicting evidence regarding the parclose screen over the top of the monument. In one plan the screen appears to pass just to the north of the monuments on this side of the presbytery, but his 1797 plan shows the Marshall tomb underneath the screen, as it is today.129 The fact that his detail sketch of the west end of the tomb chest omits the figure on the left indicates that the screen was in fact obscuring part of the monument at that time, as it does today. Edward Blore drew the tomb in an oblique view taken from the southwest corner.130 Britton also published a plate of this monument, and provided a written description.131 He stated that it is Purbeck, “finely sculptured, but now partially decomposed.” Here he seems to have been referring to the figures on the base rather than to the effigy. He confuses the description of the figures on the north and south sides, and the details of the figures on the engraving are difficult to work out. Jones noted the long tradition of this tomb belonging to Marshall despite the lack of firm evidence: “Although no inscription indicates to whose memory it is erected yet the arms upon the wall-a lion rampant-and the writings of historians and antiquaries prove it to be the monument of Bishop Henry Marshall who is said to have died in the year 1203 [actually 1206].”132 This attribution was consistently repeated through the nineteenth century. There seems to be no medieval documentation regarding Bishop Henry's burial, though Britton, citing “ancient sources,” says Marshall is buried on north 129

130

131 132

BL Add MS 29943, fol. 79, a rough pencil plan with some measurements added in ink. This shows the screen on the north side of the effigy. In a section of the choir on fol. 87v, he drew the south screen (though very sketchily) in pencil, showing the openings in the screen for the tombs as rectangular, with sharp corners rather than the current rounded ones. Blore, BL Add MS 42008, fol. 6, labeled to Simon of Apulia, probably drawn c. 1820. No architectural surround is indicated and so the chest appears to be freestanding. Britton, Exeter, plate XXI, shown “correctly delineated,” and p. 132 for his text. Jones, ECL D&C Ms 3549E, 59, citing as evidence Leland and Isacke's Antiquities. Izacke was the one to attribute the arms to Marshall. The arms, however, are on the screen, and therefore likely date later than the burial.

387 side of presbytery (his “ancient sources,” which he does not name, were likely to have been Leland, Hoker, and Jones). Bishop and Prideaux said “His tomb is now on the north side of the Presbytery, having probably been moved eastward, out of the way of the fourteenth century stalls,” i.e. when the Norman east end was replaced with the early fourteenth century east end.133 Bishop and Radford note that “the style of the effigy is advanced for the first years of the thirteenth century, but in view of the difficulties in the way of identifying it with any of the later bishops, the traditional ascription to Henry Marshall must stand. As the younger brother of William Marshall, earl of Pembroke and later Regent of England, the bishop of Exeter would be in a position to command the most modern work of his time.”134 Gardner saw the higher relief of the sculpture as heralding a new phase of effigial carving, even though the “folds are still hardly modeled though represented more by ridges than incisions”; he did not provide a date.135 Historians of the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries did not entertain the possibility that the chest and effigy slab are not part of the same tomb, though this has been pointed out several times in the twentieth century and it is now agreed that the existing base is in a later style than the effigy.136 What the monument looked like before this marriage of pieces occurred has been a subject of discussion. The only pre-civil war descriptions are those provided by Hoker and Godwin, but these are not helpful beyond noting that the tomb was fair and of marble. Three fragments found in 1934 in a cellar 133

134 135 136

Also noted by Hope and Lloyd, 45-6: “Marshall was probably buried at first to the north of the altar of the Norman cathedral, and his tomb then moved to its present position, when the construction of the presbytery was completed somewhere about 1300.” Bishop and Radford, 334-5. A Gardner, 154. He appears not to have noticed that discrepancy between the base and the effigy Prideaux and Bishop, 123, in 1922, seem to have been the first to note the discrepancy. See also Hope and Lloyd, 45-6, and more specifically Bishop and Radford in their 1941 article.

388 have since been identified in a study by Bishop and Radford as the probable original base for the effigy, based on stylistic analysis (the foliate cusps on the quatrefoils are strikingly similar to the foliate apparel on the bishop's effigy, for example, and the overall character of carving is similar on both pieces) and on measurements [see below for description, Base # 2]. The question then arises, to whom did the chest currently under the effigy belong? The base is an advanced and more intricate version of that thought to belong to the effigy originally, and the use of miniature heads in quatrefoil or lozenge shapes appeared earlier on the coped lids of the tomb chests at Canterbury and Rochester, dating from the early part of the thirteenth century. The small figures are generic enough to not offer much help in aiding identification. Hamilton Rogers suggested that they are “generally emblematic in character, and depict the orders and offices of the priesthood, episcopacy, and royalty.”137 Though difficult to identify fully because of damage, it is possible that the figures on the south side may represent stages in a bishop's life, in which case this is one of only two known examples of biographical scenes on a tomb, the other being for Bishop Giles de Bridport at Salisbury (Cat. 20). The westernmost quatrefoil contains a woman seemingly once holding a baby, the central scene may depict the deceased either as a student or a teacher, and the final quatrefoil shows the deceased in his eventual role as bishop. Hope and Lloyd note that the high quality of carving makes it likely that it belonged to a bishop; based on the similar state of surface damage and stylistic grounds, a partnership with the effigy of Bishop Simon of Apulia (Cat. 7) is possible, though the

137

Hamilton Rogers, 43.

389 style of foliage and the measurements do not add up exactly.138 Instead, they speculate that “it is more probable that the chest was designed for Bishop Richard Blondy, who died in 1257, and that it was possibly constructed during his lifetime.”139 While they admit lack of evidence for this statement, the pose of the figure of the bishop on the south side, with arms held out beyond the line of his body, does correspond to carved images of bishops made in the 1250s and supports their theory.

Description of the three bases known at Exeter: Base #1 (currently under the effigy in Cat. 8): formed of a north, south and west panel, each slightly different in style and details. There is currently no eastern panel. The north panel consists of three deep quatrefoils with a figure in each, seated frontally on benches and flanked by a pair of tapers. The figure towards the west end is the best preserved, a monk with a deep molded halo around his tonsured head. He holds a closed book in his left hand. The drapery on his torso is in nested V-folds, sharply pointed. The middle figure holds a book open on his lap. His drapery hangs in nested Vfolds between the knees, and his torso is damaged. He is also tonsured, but without a halo. One taper is missing. The easternmost figure is in an even worse state of preservation. There is some hint of a halo, and his hair is curly, not tonsured. He holds a scroll across his lap. His drapery is caught up over his knees so that it swoops in an inverted N-shape from one knee down to the other shin. Both tapers are missing. Britton

138

139

The effigy slab for Cat. 7 (228 cm) is considerably longer than the panels under Marshall (sides panels are 210 cm long, and west panel is 5.5 cm thick), even if allowance is made for the thickness of an additional panel at the eastern end. Hope and Lloyd, 46.

390 suggested these three figures represent different stages of priesthood, though this does not exactly fit the imagery. In between the larger quatrefoils are small heads in miniature quatrefoils. The small head to the east has curls down to his ears, his eyes are open, and he has drilled holes for pupils and for mouth. The face to the west is similar, with tidily combed locks coming down over his forehead. The quatrefoils are formed of two layers of roll molding, and an outer raised band, actually a vine, circumscribing each quatrefoil and forming a figure eight that binds all five quatrefoils together. Extensive intricate foliage decorates the spandrels, varying in pattern, with long stems, and leaves, generally tri-lobed, spreading into delicate tendrils. This foliage is similar in character to that in the spandrels of Walter de Gray's canopy at York (Cat. 36), though these have been restored. The damage to this side was present in 1797 when Carter took sketches of the tomb. On the west end, there are two openings for figures set within vertically elongated quatrefoils. Only one is visible due to the imposition of the choir screen. He is wellpreserved, holding a book in his left hand, and a cross in the right. The cross rests on his knee and terminates near his head. He is bearded, with a balding head and halo, probably meant to represent St Paul. Britton suggested that St Peter was in the adjacent quatrefoil. The drapery falls in nested rounded folds between the knees. The foliage here is more like vertical sprays squeezed between the elongated quatrefoils, rather than intertwined vines. On the south side, the base is generally similar to the north panel but differs in details and is very damaged. This also has three seated figures with two smaller heads in between, but the design of the quatrefoils and strapwork are more complicated, the

391 quatrefoils elongated and with additional intermediary lobes. The quatrefoils are bound together by bold strapwork rather than a sinuous stem. The foliage is heavily interlaced, but is trapped within the interstices of the strapwork rather than freely flowing across the entire surface of the panel. The figures are in varied poses, and only one is frontal. The quatrefoil to the west holds a very damaged figure of a woman wearing a head covering, facing slightly to her left and looking slightly down towards an indistinct lump near her knee. Carter's drawing does not elucidate the imagery, and Britton suggested the lump was possibly a book. Given the possibly biographical, or at the very least narrative, nature of the next scene, I suggest the possibility that this woman was holding an infant. The central quatrefoil holds a figure angled to his right, his arm raised to the right, reaching towards a smaller seated (or possibly kneeling) figure at his right side. The gesture he makes is unclear. He could be in the pose of an orator or teacher, or in the act of blessing (though he does not wear a mitre), crowning, or holding a scroll out to the other figure. The latter is suggested in the drawings of Carter and Blore, and so Britton also believed. The quatrefoil to the east holds a bishop, seated frontally with both arms out to the sides, one holding a crosier and the other in a gesture of blessing. None of these figures are nimbed as they are on the north side. The miniature head on the left is mitred, and the small head to the right wears a crown. The foliage on this panel is wispy and meandering, and the figure sculpture in the quatrefoils of an altogether different style from the effigy which rests on it. Bishop and Prideaux noted the differences in style between the panels, “which suggests the possibility that they may not be of exactly the same date, the southern side is

392 much more weathered or decayed, and possibly later than the northern one.” See my discussion of the Marshall effigy for opinions regarding attribution.

Base #2: Only the long panel or this base survives, in three Purbeck fragments that are currently on display near the Marshall tomb (Cat. 8). The panel consists of three quatrefoils with simple roll moldings and thick, fleshy foliate cusps, in the same character as the thick details around the amice of the bishop’s effigy in Cat. 8. Each quatrefoil is given a different type of leaf, but all are trilobed and succulent. In particular, the leaf type on the right hand side is extremely similar to the effigy's decorated vestments. The character of the stone is similar to the Marshall effigy, with broad expanses of smooth, polished marble, and sharp, clean details. The three fragments, of 63, 63, and 77 cm, add up to a panel approximately 203 cm in length, very close to the Marshall slab which measures 202 cm long. The fragments were discovered in 1934 and discussed in Bishop and Radford and Hope and Lloyd. It most likely was originally paired with the effigy in Cat. 8.

Base # 3: Two fragments of a Purbeck slab now displayed in the north choir aisle. This, like the other bases, has three quatrefoils. Each of these contains a figure. The figures fit awkwardly into their allotted spaces, reminiscent of the angels in the spandrels at either side of Cat. 6 in the Lady Chapel, but the rendering of their anatomy and drapery is more competent. The central figure is Christ seated in majesty on a rainbow, with a crossed nimbus, his right hand raised in gesture of blessing and his left hand holding a book. This

393 quatrefoil is more elaborate than the two at the sides, being fimbriated, but all three are much more simple in character than the other two bases, with simple roll molding defining the frame. The quatrefoils at the sides contain single standing figures. One is bearded and balding, eyes drilled, beard in straight lines, and hands raised but held in front of his body. The other is difficult to make out, but both are haloed. They are generally identified as saints Peter and Paul. One fragment was discovered in 1921 in the grass behind the cloisters, and the other had made its way into private hands but was restored to the cathedral.140 It is agreed that it once formed part of a tomb chest, though to whom it belongs has not yet been settled. Prideaux suggested at first that it belonged to Cat. 6 in the Lady Chapel, but she revised her opinion in a later statement.141 Bishop and Prideaux found stylistic parallels in some Norman figure sculpture, and end their discussion of the panel with “experts consulted seem almost agreed about its date. Professor Lethaby dates it about 1200-10. Mr Rushforth places it a decade earlier, and Mr Hamilton Thompson considers that the fimbriated quatrefoil indicates an early thirteenth century date, in spite of the archaic character of the figures; which, if found alone, would suggest twelfth century. .... We cannot say to which Bishop’s tomb it belonged; but it is evidently the side slab of a tombchest.” Bishop and Radford offer an alternate suggestion. They believe that matching dimensions, length and thickness of stone, make it likely that this and the panel from base #2 might have formed two sides of the same chest: “the style of the carving is stiff and

140 141

The slab is discussed in Bishop and Prideaux, 1922, and Bishop and Radford, 1941. Devon Notes and Queries, vol. XI, 64; ibid., vol. XI, 139 for revised opinion.

394 appears rudely modelled, so that a date in the last decade of the twelfth century has been suggested. But the dimensions and arrangement, which correspond exactly with the newly discovered slab, must outweigh the purely stylistic argument, which makes no allowance for the possibility of retarded work being produced alongside more advanced.”142 While certainly the possibility of two styles of work existing side by side exists, the argument that they are similar in “arrangement” is not a strong one. If by “arrangement” the authors mean the use of three quatrefoils, one could also include the panels currently below the effigy in Cat. 8 (base #1). The sizes may be similar, but the quatrefoils on the two panels are sufficiently different in character and in treatment that this could easily represent a third chest. It seems possible to suggest from the existence of so many similar panels that the choice of tomb chests with three quatrefoils was a local preference. I suggest that, given the style of figure carving, which is more competent than that on Cat. 6 to which I give a date of c.1155, and is of a completely different character than that on Cat. 8 and the panel attributed to his effigy's base (base #2), this could possibly be a fragment of Bishop Bartholomew's unknown tomb, and hence would date to c.1184 (probably after). If his tomb was erected after his death, this brings it closer to the dates suggested in earlier analyses. This possibility had not previously been considered, as the effigy (Cat. 6) in the Lady Chapel, which does not match this base, is usually given the attribution to Bartholomew. The use of quatrefoils with figures within had longevity. Besides the two coped

142

Bishop and Radford, 335. The slab is approx. 4 inches thick, 18 inches in width, and (originally) nearly seven feet in length.

395 lids with quatrefoils, the tomb of Bishop Fauconbrigge in London (d.1228; Cat. 63) had quatrefoils along its base, as does the tomb of Bishop Giffard at Worcester (d.1301; Cat. 35). The seal of Bishop Cantilupe of Worcester had a pair of quatrefoils with saints' heads on either side of the central figure (1237-66).

Cat. 9 Current location: in the Lady Chapel, south side, third bay from the east wall, in between the central and south chapels Identification: Bishop Walter Bronescombe (d.1280) Measurements: Length of whole, 225 cm. Height of slab and chamfer, approx. 17 cm; depth of relief of effigy from base, approx. 28 cm Major features: Painted black basalt effigy on a late medieval tomb chest and under a late medieval architectural canopy. A sophisticated sculpture and a rare surviving example of intricate medieval polychromy on an effigy. The effigy rests on a slab with a wide chamfered edge painted with roundels enclosing animals and birds, surrounded by white vine-scrolls on a red ground. There is no carved foliage along the sides of the slab, though other places on the effigy are enriched by a wide variety of foliate forms. The effigy stands within a niche carved in relatively low relief compared to the effigy, which rises prominently in relief above it. The canopy above the bishop's head is a single, sharply pointed arch, with a grape vine(?) winding around its rounded molding, each leaf with five long pointed fingers. The arch is

396 painted red and blue, and the foliage gold. On the left side of the arch is a pair of threetoed (?)bird's claws and part of a scroll, all that remains of an unusual motif. A hole is visible where this feature was attached, and doubtless it served in part to support the now-missing crosier head. Birds accompanying an effigy only appear on the Tournai slab at Salisbury and one of the freestone retrospective effigies at Wells; that at Wells is the only other one to appear close to the bishop's head. The arch is supported by two thin engaged colonnettes, each with a rounded abacus and impost block, and deeply undercut gilded foliate capitals. The two capitals are different. That on the north side is formed of large, fleshy 5-lobed convex acanthus leaves overlapping smaller concave three-pointed leaves reminiscent of ivy. On the north side, the primary leaves are the same as those on the canopy, but here are arranged in overlapping layers. The colonnettes rest on rounded bases which in turn rest on top of corbel heads. The heads rise out of a layer of wavy clouds; that on the north has thick hair curled in fashionable corkscrews and wears a green shirt, and that on the south has a red shirt and a cap tied under the chin, with curls peeking out at the bottom and across the forehead. The motif of angels as corbel heads at the base of the effigy appeared previously on the tomb of de Gray at York (Cat. 36) and Bishop Aquablanca at Hereford (Cat. 10). In each spandrel of the arch, an angel kneels, one leg stretched out behind and the other brought up at 90 degrees. Both heads have been knocked off, but the bodies remain in good condition, the angel on the south side having survived better than that on the north. The angels' drapery is in broad fold style, gathering thickly around the feet so that the toes are just visible. Their wings are folded across their backs. Both had arms

397 outstretched to swing a now-missing thurible towards the canopy. The outstretched arms were supported by a stem of fleshy round-lobed leaves, painted green, the one on the north a flatter version of the acanthus leaves on the northern capital, and the one on the south slightly different, a stem of elongated concave oval leaves. A second stem rises up behind the angels, possibly a necessity for supporting the thuribles. The wings of the angel on the north side retain some paint, and the hem of its garment has been given a gold embroidered border. The beast—a rather acrobatic lion with a long mane—under the bishop's feet faces southwards into St Gabriel’s chapel. Visible from the north side is its tail, which curves around under the beast. One leg is stretched out behind it, and the other lifted up as a dog scratching; this foot catches in its claws the base of the crosier which extends down to the beast's back. The figure of the bishop is the highlight of the tomb, carved in extremely high relief and with beautifully detailed and overlapping folds of drapery. He holds a crosier in his left hand, and the right hand is raised above his shoulder in a gesture of blessing. The crosier extends in high relief above the body, supported by a ridge of stone until it breaks free of the slab beyond his shoulder. The supporting ridge is embellished with foliage, and as with the other examples of foliage on this tomb the leaves are different on each side. The north side has a row of tri-lobed ivy leaves arranged in superimposed layers, while the south side consists of a sinuous stem curling around ivy leaves that do not overlap. The crosier has a sudarium, and the staff is painted with orange, white and black stripes.

398 The bishop has a close, almost imperceptible beard and mustache of short, straight chiseled incisions. His hair is carved in thick corkscrew curls lying horizontally across his forehead below his mitre. The eyes are open; the nose is slightly damaged. His head rests on two high pillows, one at a diagonal to the other, and each painted in rich patterns of gold, red and blue, mimicking embroidery. The upper pillow has on both sides of his head a hole with a piece of broken metal remaining inside, their function unclear. His right hand is gloved, with a large flower in relief on the back of his glove. The raised hand is supported by a ridge of stone decorated with several stems topped by long oval leaves, much like those supporting the angel on the south side. His mitre is red, with a painted band along the front and base and additional adornment painted on the surface. The maniple and amice both are decorated with gold, red and black painted lozenge patterns, as are the prominent lappets on the mitre. The maniple and stole both have carved fringes. The polychromy survives best on the drapery. The chasuble is gold on the front and red on the undersides, with a wide gold and black border. The dalmatic and tunicle are both green on the underside, and on the front are blue with a wide gold border at the hem. The orphrey and an apparel are painted over the shoulders and the orphrey descends down the front of the chasuble. The alb and sandals are also richly colored in red and gold embroidery. The paint is a surface embellishment over exquisitely carved drapery. The garments fall in smooth, supple layers, particularly the chasuble and tunicle. Where the chasuble breaks into folds across the front of the body, the cloth falls in asymmetrical, naturalistic ridges of varied size and shape, but all quite crisp in profile. The raised arms

399 cause sharp breaks in the cloth at the sides, angular and thin in profile. The edges of the two uppermost garments fold in multiple contours so that the underside is visible. The hemlines are equally active, the garments ending in complicated, wide, flattened ripples. The alb curls slightly around his feet. The tomb chest and architectural canopy were added after 1419, to match those of the Stafford monument opposite. At his feet, on a separate slab, added later when the tomb chest and canopy were added, are two angels kneeling and displaying heraldic arms.143 History, attribution and scholarship: We know something of Bishop Bronescombe's preparations for his burial and commemoration from his register, which confirms his provisions for masses and his obit, the special celebrations funded for St Gabriel's feast day, and the choice of burial location in the St Gabriel chapel.144 This chapel, and the construction of the other two eastern chapels, was begun under his episcopate. This tomb is firmly attributed and has not suffered damage or relocation in later years, though the effigy was placed on a new chest and given a new architectural canopy in the fifteenth century. The high quality of the carving and the survival of medieval paint have received some attention, though a full study of the tomb remains to be done. Post-medieval historians took note of the tomb. Leland recorded the inscription 143

144

Cherry, 201, suggests these might be the angels referred to in the fabric rolls of 1442-3: “in wire empt. pro angelis ad novam tumbam Walteri Primi. 2d” Oliver, Lives, 43-6, with excerpts from the Bishop's register. In 1280, he appointed two chaplains to pray for his soul, supported by the vicarage of Bokerel in Devon, in the “capella fere de novo constructa juxta capellam beatae mariae in ecclesia nostra cathedrali ex parte australi ubi locum elegimus sepulturae.” By a previous grant on 5 Sept 1278, he appropriated the church of St Bruered to the Dean and chapter for celebrating St Gabriel's feast and his own anniversary on the day following, when fifty poor people were to be fed, and corn worth one penny allotted to each.

400 from the fifteenth-century architectural surround. Godwin described (incorrectly) a tomb of alabaster in this location in 1601.145 In 1635, a Lieutenant from Norwich gave some more details: “Betweene that little Chappell, and the Lady Chappell, is a neat, and lofty Monumt wth curious cutt stone whereon lyeth Bp Blanscombe in Alablaster hee built Glasney Colledge in Cornwall.... the Emperor's Armes, K Edw the Confessors, and his owne, are fairely set out, and gilt.”146 Curiously, although both previous visitors saw the identification to Bronescombe, Symonds, during his 1644 visit, described a tomb visible from both sides in the south chapel with heraldry but without a name.147 This must be the same tomb, and suggests that some damage, at least to the inscription, had occurred in the past nine years. A cathedral guide from 1807 said that the inscription on the tomb was nearly obliterated.148 The chapter act book for 1822 indicates some restoration of the monument, as part of the larger project to restore the Lady Chapel for worship.149 Presumably this involved renewing the paint on the chest and canopy, as John Britton mentioned in 1826 the rich color and great state of preservation of the tomb. Britton gave Bronescombe's monument lengthy treatment, though curiously, he did not single out the effigy for any particular attention. He did, however, print a plate of the effigy. He gave the whole assemblage, including the effigy, a date in “the middle part of Edward 3's reign” as it “exhibits a more advanced state of the decorative parts of Pointed architecture

145 146 147 148

149

Godwin, 327. BL Ms Lansdowne 213, fol. 375b. Symonds, 89-90. Guide to the Cathedral Church of Exeter, 31. This 1807 guide relies heavily on Jones's 1787 work, but Jones, ECL D&C Ms 3549E, 82, gave the inscription and did not mention its bad state. ECA Ms 3579, fol. 12. Expenses from the timber fund are recorded for “Monts Bidgood and Vilvain.... 5/9/6; Monts Stafford and Bronescombe... 2/1/6,” and other expenses related to the Lady Chapel.

401 than was prevalent at the time of Bronescombe's decease.”150 John Carter took care in drawing the Bronescombe effigy c.1792, and over the course of several pages sketched many of the effigy's details, sometimes with notes on the polychromy.151 His account, however, differs somewhat from what appears today, for example in the white he recorded on the gloves and on the undergarments. The text accompanying his engravings in the 1797 publication by the Society of Antiquaries speaks highly of the tomb: “the stately monument of Bishop Bronescombe, nearly perfect; the pinnacles at the top only being wanting. The whole tomb, as well as the bishop's statue, retain their original gilding and colours. The dress of the bishop is highly elegant, studded with representations of gems, and other rich ornaments. The whole is a precious relic of ancient splendour, and has fortunately escaped the barbarous hands of the whitewashers....”152 The monument was the subject of a paper by William Crabbe in 1852, in which he provided much detail about the color on the effigy, though he mistakenly said it is carved of freestone.153 Details appearing in this publication not visible today are the

150 151

152 153

Britton, Exeter, 133. BL Add Ms 29931, fols. 113-120, among which are details of the patterns of the cushion, some parts labeled red and others either blue or black. Also the mitre and the amice, with a notation that part of the mitre is “redish” and the collar is “all of gold” and black lines, as it appears today. He also noted red on the chasuble, blue on the dalmatic, and white on the alb, as well as white gloves. He showed the birds in medallions along the slab and the black, white and red spots on dark brown ground, i.e. the ‘stone’ of the slab. Other details show the jewels and ornament for the chasuble, and details of hemlines. BL Add Ms 29943, fol. 93 is a view from the south side of the whole monument and its architectural context. Carter, Plans, Elevations, Sections. William Richard Crabbe, “Some account of the Tomb of Bishop Bronescombe in Exeter Cathedral,” Exeter Diocesan Society (1852), vol. IV, 228-37. The publication was accompanied by a color lithograph by Day and Son, E Ashworth, del, showing the north side of the effigy. In this, the screen around and over the tomb chest is green in its major members, unlike today. The color on the canopy around the head and roundels on the slab show up most clearly in this view. A birds-eye view shows the alb as green with a gold band, the dalmatic as blue with a gold band, the chasuble as a light color, with painted patterning on the orphrey, amice and edging. The mitre has red and gold detail, and the gloves

402 chevron-striped colonnettes, painted in green, white and red. He discussed the paint at length: “the extraordinary preservation of the colours of the figure, (when compared with the faded appearance of the screen) is to be attributed to its comparatively sheltered position under a canopy, and to several coats of a dark coloured wash, which, having peeled off, have exposed to view the magnificent illuminations beneath.” The dark wash or veneer may have been added in the restoration of the Lady Chapel in 1822. By the 1870s, the varnish was still present and badly peeling, although in so doing it revealed brighter paint underneath.154 The painted effigy was studied carefully by EW Tristram when he was involved with restoration and recoloring at the cathedral between 1930-36.155 During this time, the nineteenth-century coat of varnish on the effigy was removed and the medieval paint revealed.156 Tristram believed that “in the 15th century the effigy was repainted to make it correspond with the work on the Stafford tomb on the opposite side of the lady chapel, and this repainting was, at the time of the Reformation, entirely obliterated with several coatings of white. Both the repainting and the coatings having been removed in the nineteenth century, the effigy was, after a certain lapse of time, covered with varnish, but the accumulated deposits of grime, the contribution of

154 155

156

are white. The crosier is striped red and black. The angels and crosier were by this time already broken. Crabbe's text included particular details about the painted embroidery. The orphrey, for example, was patterned with lions and quatrefoils, and the dalmatic had a pattern “as as occurring on the tiles of S Gabriel’s Chapel, two birds between a fleur de lis, or sprig of foliage. The border is very magnificent, and is finished with a broad fringe.” The tunicle was “studded with an hexagonal ornament of six balls or roundlets of gold, and one in the center, with rich border and fringe.” The alb was “white with a rich border, and not the ordinary square apparels.” Hamilton Rogers, 43ff. A Erskine, Friends of Exeter Cathedral Report, March 1980, 15: “the first [major project of the Friends of Exeter Cathedral] was the financing of Professor Tristram’s work of restoration and recolouring between 1930 and 1936, which involved tombs—including Bronescombes’ [sic] splendid effigy… etc.” Devon and Cornwall Notes and Queries 17 (1932-3), 74-75, says that original coloring of the thirteenth-century effigy has only now been exposed by the removal of its nineteenth-century coat of varnish.

403 years, was left underneath. The effigy has now been, with the most minute care, thoroughly cleaned, and the original decoration… has been revealed…..”157 There is some discrepancy in these accounts. Tristram's comment about the whitewash contradicts Carter's observation that the effigy escaped being whitewashed, although it might explain the early seventeenth-century descriptions of the effigy being of alabaster. The color seen by Carter at the end of the eighteenth century was probably the late medieval scheme rather than the original scheme, since Tristram said the later medieval paint was only removed in the nineteenth century. The lithograph and Crabbe's description from the middle of the nineteenth century show the undergarments in similar colors as they are today, although the chasuble then was much lighter, almost white, where today it is red. The effigy has received high praise from several scholars. Hamilton Rogers considered this effigy “magnificently illuminated with colors, the mitre richly jewelled, and all the ecclesiastical apparel superbly embroidered and ornamented....This noble figure is, perhaps, taken altogether, the finest specimen of mediaeval sepulchral statuary in in the county....”158 Bishop and Prideaux opined, “His monumental effigy of black basalt, of London work (according to Prior and Gardner), is one of the finest, if not the finest, effigy of a medieval Bishop in England.” Hope and Lloyd call the Bronescombe effigy “the glory of ...the whole monumental sculpture of the cathedral.”159 They suggest it is of London workmanship, possibly even by the royal workshops at Westminster. Gardner noted that the effigy of Bronescombe “begins to show a distinct advantage in the treatment of drapery with thin overlapping folds,” and that the “leaves on the canopy 157 158 159

Note in the file on Bronescombe at the Courtauld Institute of Art, accessed courtesy of David Park. Hamilton Rogers, 43ff. Hope and Lloyd, 47; Bishop and Prideaux, 121.

404 begin to assume the naturalistic form of the last years of the century, and proclaim this effigy as transitional [to the 14th century].”160 Bridget Cherry discussed the fifteenth-century tomb chest and canopy, which were made after 1419, the death of Bishop Stafford, whose tomb is opposite. She is the only one to wonder in print about the appearance of the tomb before the early fifteenthcentury improvements: “How it was originally displayed is unknown. The principle of using canopies over effigies was well established by the end of the 13th century, for ecclesiastical as well as secular tombs.... However, if there had been a canopy, it would seem odd for it to be destroyed, and it seems more likely that it was the absence of such a superstructure that inspired the remaking of the tomb in a manner that was felt to be in accord with 15th-century notions of the dignity appropriate for one of the cathedral's chief benefactors.”161

HEREFORD Of effigies from the thirteenth century, Hereford retains only one: that of Bishop Aquablanca in the northwest transept. Near to him stands the tomb of Thomas Cantilupe, his successor. This was a raised tomb chest with a brass, topped by a short canopy. As it does not have an effigy, it is not considered here, though it is an important example of an early brass monument. In the early years of the fourteenth century, a series of ten retrospective effigies was completed along the choir aisles, which replaced any earlier tombs in the cathedral.

160 161

A Gardner, 166. Cherry, 201.

405 Cat. 10 Current location: in the north aisle of the choir, in between the eastern chapel of the northwest transept and the north aisle proper Identification: Peter of Aquablanca (d.1268) Measurements: Height of whole chest from stone base, 96 cm; length of chest, 236 cm; width of chest, approx. 72 cm at both ends. Length of figure, 218 cm; depth of figure to arms, 44 cm, including the pilaster slab; breadth across arms approx. 68 cm. Intercolumniations of canopy, approx. 52 cm. Entire length of tomb, 312 cm (length of chest, plus 38 cm of space on both ends). Height of shafts to bottom of capitals, 185 cm. Major features: A painted freestone effigy on a tomb chest, surmounted by a large architectural canopy of three bays. The monument rests on a plinth in between the chapel and the aisle and is visible from both sides. The canopy fills the entire bay, forming an effective screen between the two spaces. Unlike the de Gray monument at York where chest and canopy are united (Cat. 36), the piers of the canopy stand on the plinth, the tomb chest and effigy therefore are surrounded by the piers as if in a cage. The sculpted body is in very high relief, but the canopy overarching his head and the panels along the effigy's sides are unusually shallow compared to other thirteenthcentury effigies. The canopy is formed of a trefoil molding within a pointed arch. Around the roll molding of the arch are small sprigs of trilobe foliage in low relief. In the spandrels are sunken trefoils. Instead of the more typical colonnettes and foliage supporting the canopy at either side of the body, there are pilasters carved in low relief

406 and decorated with miniature tracery, niches, and heads. The pilasters retain gold and black paint, and the chamfered slab below is red and gold. The pilasters, set at an angle to the slab, are comprised of sunken panels of blind tracery separated by small carved heads, four on each side. The panels of tracery each include a gabled lancet window, with a trefoil under the gable and the lancet subdivided into two smaller lancets and an oculus. The heads on the south side are very worn; a tonsured head and possibly a bishop's head are all that can be discerned. On the north side, at the bottom is a male head with beard and mustache, his cap destroyed; a second head is without a beard and possibly tonsured; a third male head is also possibly tonsured; the fourth head is destroyed. The corbel on which the feet of the effigy rest, like the canopy and pilasters, is also unusual. The effigy stands on a triple-gabled canopy, each gable with a trefoiled inner molding matching that on the canopy at the head of the effigy. Each gable embraces an extremely worn corbel bust, one with a strap under his chin and short hair, the other, possibly female, with long hair or a head covering of some kind. There are sprigs of foliage between each head. They do not appear to be arising out of clouds, hence are probably not meant to indicate angels. There are no other effigies with a base exactly like this, although Walter de Gray's effigy at York (Cat. 36) does have a pair of angel busts as corbels below the colonnettes, and there were busts of angels below the feet of the effigy for Walter Giffard at Worcester (Cat. 35). The effigy is a rare example still exhibiting paint, though the stone and its colored surface are very worn on the south side, probably due to passing traffic in the aisle. Antiquarian evidence proves the existence of iron bars on the south side, and there may

407 also have been a screen to the north side, protecting it. Surviving paint reveals a gold amice with red and black lines; a blue (?or black) chasuble with a red, black and gold painted border; a gold band to indicate the orphrey; and a gold maniple with red and black around the edges. A red dalmatic has horizontal bands of gold decorated with black circles, stars, diamonds, and diagonal crosses along the edges at the bottom and sides. The alb and tunicle no longer have paint, but the stole is gold, and the left boot is red with gold and black strapwork. Some of the paint appears to be retouched. The figure is carved in high relief from the slab, with both arms raised and separate from the main block of stone. The drapery falls down the front of the figure below the chest in simple, wide undulations. The folds are in higher relief than most of the Purbeck effigies. The folds are nested, but with less regularity than the Purbeck examples. It thus has not quite reached the asymmetrical bold ridges of cloth which characterize effigies in Purbeck, freestone, and wood of the last decades of the century. The cloth of the chasuble as it falls from the raised arms gathers in deep v-folds, and the excess cloth doubles back on itself in the manner of later thirteenth-century sculptured drapery. The maniple, carved in the round on the left side and shown falling away from the body, displays unusual sensitivity on the sculptor's part to the pull of gravity. Fringes are carved at the ends of the maniple, stole, and lappets, and the gathered cloth around the crosier ends in a multitude of ripples. The effigy is bearded, and has short hair peeking from under the mitre across the forehead. Other features are too worn for comment. He rests on a diagonal pillow. The right hand is gloved, with a raised dot on the back of it. The left hand, which held the

408 crosier, is gone. The crosier, now visible as a stone ridge, stops just before reaching the central gable of the corbel. The architectural canopy is unlike any other known monument, but has similarities to the architecture in the north transept. It is airy and open, with thin columnar shafts and tracery, and interior vaults decorated and visible. The canopy is supported by seven piers on each side, five freestanding, and the end pair built into the piers of the arcade and wall. The piers and corresponding gables form three bays. Each pier is formed of clusters of four small rounded shafts, topped by molded capitals and tall crocketed pinnacles also of four shafts. The gables are sharply pointed, crocketed, and feature an openwork trefoil within a medallion in each peak. Below each gable is a pointed arch, deeply molded with a medallion and quatrefoil in its peak and two smaller sharply pointed lancets below, in between which is a single shaft with molded capital. There is additional small-scale figure sculpture on the canopy which exhibits the sculptor's extreme attention to detail, even at the back, underside, and heights of the canopy. At each corner of the canopy, a figure climbs out of foliage (on the northeast corner, the foliage grows downwards instead of up, and there is no figure here; the stone here is a lighter color and may be a replacement). The gables have head stops, four on each side; on the south side is one with a wide face and high forehead much like the African head carved on the Salisbury choir screen. Perched at the top of the gables are mini-carvings including a ram, a dog or dragon, and a bird. There are also figures on the backs of these, facing in towards the top of the vault. Their backs support foliate crosses, the central two of which on each side of the monument include Christ on the cross. On

409 the north side, on the two westernmost bays, green and red paint is visible in the depths of the canopy moldings. The columnar shafts are either a non-shelly dark stone or are blackened to appear dark. Underneath the canopy can be seen three finished vaulted bays with unique foliate bosses on the cross and transverse ribs. The reverse side of the traceried bays are finished. In the end walls, of solid masonry, three iron cramps are visible. The traceried windows in the eastern chapels of the northwest transept, which was rebuilt during Aquablanca's episcopate in the mid-thirteenth century, have details similar to those on the tomb canopy and display similar overall character. The shafts of the windows are very thin and delicate, with rounded capitals and a dark polish. The tracery they support consists of three lancets, as sharply pointed as those on the tomb. Above the lancets are three oculi containing quatrefoils. As with the tomb, the molding on the tracery is extremely deep, though thin and brittle when seen in elevation. Condition: a modern knee wall fills the gaps at the east and west ends of the tomb chest, to restrict access under the canopy. The paint and effigy surface on the south side are very worn. The crosier and right hand are missing, and the features of face are worn off. Iron tie bars connect the capitals of the architectural canopy; the date of these is unknown. History, attribution and scholarship: The tomb of Bishop Peter of Aquablanca is the oldest surviving monument in the cathedral. The bishop arranged for two tombs, one here and one in his collegiate foundation of St Catherine in Aiguebelle in Savoy. Two wills survive for him. The earlier

410 will requested his burial in Savoy, but the second will requested that the viscera be buried at Hereford and the body in Savoy.162 He died near Hereford, however, and the tomb was opened in 1925 to reveal that his body was buried whole at Hereford. Next to Bishop Aquablanca, inside the chapel, is the tomb of his nephew and dean of Hereford, John de Aquablanca, most likely the primary person responsible for Aquablanca's burial in the north transept.163 Given its complicated structure, it seems certain that the tomb has never been moved.164 In 1827, however, Reverend Thomas Garbett, in his pamphlet on the state of Hereford Cathedral, suggested moving some of the larger monuments such as those of bishops Aquablanca and Mayo to the nave, to relieve it of its massiveness and to bring the tombs out of relative obscurity.165 This was not done, but nineteenth-century sources did note the need for repairs.166 The north transept as a whole went through some physical changes when it became a parochial chapel to St John the Baptist around 1796.167 162

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J Gardner, “Tomb of Bishop Peter of Aquablanca,” discusses the two burial arrangements. The Sugwas will is printed in Camden Miscellany 14. Of the Savoy tomb, bronze columns survive, but the tomb was destroyed in 1792. Drawings taken by Thomas Kerrich, BL Add Ms 6729, fols. 101-103, show details of a three-dimensional effigy in metal, however, the inscription on the tomb that he transcribed in his notes gives the name of the artist, Magister Henricus de Colonia, who may have been a fifteenthcentury artist. Therefore, Gardner suggested that the effigy Kerrich saw was a later medieval replacement. Nicholas Vincent believed the rival tomb at Aiguebelle stemmed from a later attempt to claim the bishop’s body (DNB). J Gardner, “Tomb of Bishop Peter of Aquablanca,” 105. The location in between the north aisle and north transept is indicated in a general way by Leland, vol. V, 182, c.1540, and in the notes of visiting military personnel taken in 1634, BL Lansdowne 213, fol. 333b. The manuscript version of a plan by Browne Willis, Bodl Ms Willis 47, fols. 193v-194, shows the tomb in the center of the chapel rather than in between the chapel and aisle; this was corrected in his printed edition of 1727. Rev Thomas Garbett, “A Brief Enquiry into the Ancient and Present state of Hereford Cathedral” (1827). A newspaper article from the Hereford Times, Sat Oct.16, 1847, mentioned that the north transept needed repairs. Gough, Sepulchral Monuments, vol. II, cccxxviii: “After the fall of the tower the parochial service was

411 Early visitors made note of the tomb, but they did not offer much detail as to its state. Dingley mentions the tomb, with its inscription, in the seventeenth century, and a brief description appeared in 1717 by Rawlinson, who said it was “formerly curiously embellish'd with Gold, and painted, as was the elegant Arch over him.... This monument is enclos'd on the South Side with Iron Bars, which reach to the Cieling [sic].”168 Most information comes from Richard Gough and the draughtsman John Carter in the late eighteenth century. Carter's illustration taken in the late eighteenth century confirms the continued presence of the iron grate on the south side, though his view is taken from the north.169 The drawing was hastily done and lacks detail, but the pilasters on the sides of the figure are indicated, and the relative height of the effigy as it rises out of the slab is clear. He labeled the plinth as “black green” and the floor as “bluish.” His note on the

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performed in the choir, and continued there till last year, 1796, when some of the chapter objected to the parishioners going there; who in reply told the chapter, that as they had used the materials of their late parish church, they must provide them with another. At last, after a ridiculous squabble, and, instead of making some new seats in the new nave, where it was before, it was concluded that the fine North transept, which has more curious and valuable monuments in it than any other, should be all taken up with the new church. So that there will be lost to the sight of the curious, among other fine monuments, those of bishop Westfaling, St Thomas Cantalupe, Aquablanc, and John Phillips the poet. Such is the folly and want of taste in modern chapters!” Dingley, vol. 94, cliv; Rawlinson, 183; Marshall, 73. Marshall noted this was removed during Cottingham's repairs. BL Add Ms 29943, fol. 37, a sketch in ink showing both Aquablanca tombs from the north. The sketch is undated. It was reproduced in Gough’s Sepulchral Monuments, vol. I, 33. The relationship of the two tombs is difficult to interpret. The sketch was taken before the renovations for the parochial chapel and the nineteenth-century restoration. It appears that the plinth on which the bishop's tomb chest sat had been extended so that the dean's also rested on it, close on the north side of the bishop. Carter perhaps went back a second time and amended his drawing to reflect changes. Next to the tomb of the dean, Carter has written in pencil “gone to N east Transept,” and it appears that in the interval the bishop's tomb had been partly restored; in pencil he filled in the top part of the central gable of canopy, which in ink he had indicated was broken. Britton's 1831 publication said the dean's tomb rested on a coffin tomb next to the bishop, but FT Havergal, Fasti, 176, made a note that the effigy of the dean, “after several removals, was restored in 1860 to its original position. On removing the modern pavement, the ancient coffin was found immediately beneath, filled with dust and rubbish. It remains there undisturbed beneath the effigy.” See Havergal, Fasti, plate XIX for a drawing of the north transept showing the dean's effigy on a slightly higher base, probably dating c.1869. Carter’s drawing demonstrates that the damage to the dean's face existed by the end of the eighteenth century, but that more of the canopy then survived.

412 canopy of the bishop says “This mon in the style of Cantilupe's shr and same materials-but covd with paint- looks like wood-- beads on caps and fine foliage similar to Cantes.” Gough's description of the tomb is as follows: “at his [the effigy's] head a flat canopy, resting on three heads [it is unclear what he meant by this], which are also down the sides, and three under arches at his feet. Over his head is painted on the wall, Dn's Petrus de Aquablanca epus Heref. Obiit AD 1268.”170 Simon Fisher (c.1781-1836) made a watercolor sketch of the tomb from the south side. A paneled wooden dividing screen is shown on the north side of the effigy, which must have been added during the conversion to the parochial chapel.171 James Storer printed a plate in 1816 showing the bishop's tomb, though he mislabeled it and did not give it much discussion in the text.172 Britton's 1831 publication merely said that Bishop Aquablanca's monument is handsome, with columns, canopies, and effigy of a prelate.173 Edward Blore made a detailed finished drawing of the north side of the bishop's tomb which included the head stops at base of each gable in the canopy, and the effigy.174 The monument was restored c.1860. A contract dated 1858 stated that the tomb was to be “carefully cleaned and the broken shafts to canopy and the plinths to be restored.”175 FT Havergal in 1869 noted that the protective iron railing on the sides had

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Sepulchral Monuments, vol. I, 56-7; Bodl MS Gough Maps 222. LSA, uncatalogued boxes arranged by county, “Sepulchral Monuments British Isles,” Herefordshire. The image is unsigned and undated. It shows a detailed view of the pilasters at the side, plus the architectural canopy, though the effigy itself is not given much attention. Storer, vol. II, Plate 5, shows the bishop's tomb, though he identifies it as the dean's, pp. k and q. Britton, Hereford, 56. BL Add Ms 42008, fol. 10. This was taken from the north side, and it is unclear whether it was made before it became parochial chapel or after it was restored. Hereford Cathedral Library, Roger Capps' typescript report on development and repair of the cathedral : contract dated 8 Oct 1858, with John Thompson, contractor, and George Gilbert Scott, architect: “The altar tomb in the east aisle of the north transept and that in the south archway of this aisle to be carefully

413 recently removed. Havergal also stated that the color recently had been partly restored c.1860, by a “most indefatigable amateur.” 176 Modern scholarship includes the article by J Gardner on the circumstances of burial and Aquablanca's two wills. A Gardner simply noted that the tomb was “based on the type of Archbishop de Gray at York” (d.1255; Cat. 36) and dated it to c.1270.177 Coldstream compared the Aquablanca tomb with the lost tomb of Bishop Grosseteste of Lincoln (d.1253; Cat. 62) and the tomb of Walter de Gray at York and suggested that the tomb of Aquablanca, like the transept itself, shows clear links to Westminster Abbey. The finial with the crucifixion, e.g., compares favorably with sculpture at Westminster in the north transept, and the openwork canopy, with tracery and Purbeck marble colonnettes, resembles other work at Westminster.178 It appears that a detailed study of the paint on the tomb has not been completed. The monument does not have an identifying inscription, and exhumation of the body in 1925 did not bring to light an identifying plaque, but the monument seems always to have been given to Aquablanca, and this was perpetuated by the inscription (though of what date is unclear) seen by Dingley in the seventeenth century and by Gough in the 1790s. Given that the tomb was placed in the north transept, its dating is

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cleaned and the broken shafts to canopy and the plinths to be restored.” Havergal, Fasti, 176-7: “metal bars above the effigy originally supported tapestry or other covering for its protection”; here he seems to be talking about the tie bars. Havergal also noted that “dimensions and details of this tomb were taken in 1868 by Mr Charles Henmanjun, whose drawings and notes... will be found in the Library of the Royal Institution of British Architects.” The person who restored the paint, whose name was not given by Havergal, also made drawings of the patterns he found. They were at the time in Havergal’s possession, although he intended to give them to the cathedral library. The person tried to “restore slight portions of the coloured vestments.” A Gardner, 166. See also Brieger, 102-3. Coldstream, “The Medieval Tombs and the Shrine of St Thomas Cantilupe,” Hereford Cathedral: A History, eds. Aylmer and Tiller, 322-30.

414 tied to the north transept, which, because of its similarities to Westminster Abbey, is usually considered to have been begun under the episcopate of Bishop Aquablanca, who had close ties to the royal family and indeed owed his position to them. The style of effigy and architecture indicates a date in the 1260s or 1270s, which necessarily points to Aquablanca, who held the office from 1240 to 1268. His successor, John le Breton (d.1275), might be another likely candidate, but the association of Aquablanca with the work of the north transept is stronger than any evidence for John, who asked to be buried in the choir, and whose coffin is thought to have been found elsewhere.179

LICHFIELD The two thirteenth century effigies at Lichfield are the only medieval bishops' effigies to survive the damage inflicted in the civil wars.180 That much has been lost is clear from pre-Civil war sources such as Sampson Erdeswicke's notation that in Lichfield c.1600 there are a “good number of a very faire Monuments of the Bishopps and other clergymen besides divers others of Noblemen.”181 William Dugdale is the first to give any particulars about the monuments, in his pre-civil war 'Book of Monuments' in the British Library in which are found drawings of five monuments with bishops' effigies.182

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Havergal, Fasti, 17, e.g., says John was buried in the cathedral “probably in the fine stone coffin #7 [on plan] which was discovered during the late restorations under the northern arch of the tower.” Wharton, vol. I, 184 says he “was buried in the Body of this his cathedral.” The cadaver from the late fifteenth-century tomb of Dean Heywood is another notable survival, as is an early sixteenth-century tomb to a member of the Stanley family, still in situ. LCL Ms Lich 34, Sampson Erdeswicke, “View of Staffs containing the Antiquities of the same county” written from 1593-1603, fol. 53ff for Lichfield. BL Add Ms 71474, fols. 1r to 16r. Lichfield is the first cathedral Dugdale considered in the 'Book of Monuments.' The writing appears to be Dugdale's (Philip Whittemore, “Sir William Dugdale's 'Book of Draughts,'” Church Monuments 18 (2003), 25) and the artwork by William Sedgwick. Surviving illustrations in this work are of tombs of five medieval bishops and one cleric located in the eastern arm

415 These effigies first appear in the written documentation in c.1715. There is no published modern scholarship addressing the history and identification of these two tombs, although the cathedral displays new plaques with supposed identifications.

Cat 11 Current location: bay 6 east of the crossing bay, south choir aisle, against the south wall Identification: ?Bishop Patteshull (d.1241), but currently labeled as Walter de Langton Measurements: Much of the slab is missing, making full measurements difficult. From what survives, the original width of slab at head, approx. 70 cm; width at foot, approx. 58 cm. Length of whole, 214 cm. Length of figure, 197 cm. Width of figure at shoulders, approx. 65 cm. Depth of carving at head, approx. 20 cm; depth at arms, approx. 25 cm. Major features: Effigy of a bishop carved in a dark brown, almost black stone, separated from the coffin and resting on a modern stone plinth near the south wall. The material does not have shelly deposits as are found in Purbeck, Sussex, or other types of highly polishable limestone found in England. The sign in front of it in the cathedral says it is Purbeck, however. The bishop has no canopy around his head, no angels at either shoulder, and no foliage or colonnettes along the sides of his body. Instead, the imagery on this slab consists merely of an effigy whose head rests on a large pillow. The pillow is carved to indicate indentations where the head has depressed the of the cathedral, three on the north side and three on the south. Copies of these drawings were made apparently in the early 1660s, when Dugdale returned to Lichfield on behalf of the College of Arms. These are deposited with his notes in the College of Arms, C.36, and another set is with Ashmole's notes in the Bodleian, Ashmole Ms 853. Shaw's Staffordshire, in 1798, engraved some of these early images, and brought together a description based in part on Ashmole's and Dugdale's notes.

416 fabric, and is framed by a raised molding. Sprigs of foliage curve up out of the slab to embrace each of the four corners of the pillow. Resting on the pillow is the head of the crosier curling away from the body, above the bishop's left shoulder. An additional spray of foliage appears to the left of the bishop's left ear and mitre, though the reason for its presence there is unknown; it appears to be part of a higher ridge of stone next to his left ear (perhaps just a device to support the crosier?). The edges of the slab, where they survive, are chamfered. The effigy stands on two bunches of stiff-leaf foliage acting as corbels, one under each foot. A mortise hole in between these foliate corbels indicates that something was formerly attached here (perhaps the place where his crosier would have been attached, although a mortise rather than a stone spur is unusual). The underside of the corbels, where not damaged, has a finished surface. The effigy, like its Purbeck companion (Cat. 12), is attired in pontificals, and holds a crosier and raises his right hand in blessing. The figure spreads wide over the slab, reaching to the edges rather than being tidily contained by an architectural niche. Generally speaking, the figure is rectangular in massing, with the upper surfaces of the body rendered in horizontal planes, the torso flat rather than the more rounded form of Cat. 12. This figure has no undercutting, and the arm gestures are contained within the main outline of the body, though the head stands quite proud of the slab. The chasuble sits like a thick slab on top of the lower robes. Despite the awkward overall shape, the folds in the vestments are given careful treatment. They are numerous and complex, carved in a myriad of close, low-relief, complicated ripples. Across the front of the chasuble, the folds form gentle loops as they melt together along a loose axis

417 slightly to the left of the figure's central axis. The folds in the fabric continue all the way up the chest to the amice, and the fabric hangs over the arms in delicate parallel ripples, swirling as they gather at the elbow. Though arranged in soft curves, in profile the ridges are quite narrow with sharp edges. The dalmatic and alb hang in vertical pleats and end in a complicated hemline curving around the feet. The bishop wears gloves; the left one has an indent for jewels on the back, and there is also a hole in the top of each foot where jewels once were placed.183 His mitre had a raised band at the base and along the peak, but the surface of this is very worn. There are many indentations for jewels in the bands and on the surface of the mitre, as well as on his amice. The lappets are raised in relief, with carved tassels at the ends, matching those at the ends of his stole. He does not wear a morse, but instead has a small, soft trilobed shape at the base of the amice. His left hand holds what is left of the crosier, which only survives along the length of the chasuble, but its bottom would have been placed between his feet. His eyes are open, but the face is expressionless. This effigy once received additional surface treatment in paint, remnants of which survive on the south side of the effigy, against the wall. There is red in the bunch of foliage under his left foot, some black under his feet, and red on the dalmatic, in the split where it folds back, and on the underside of the chasuble. There is some damage to the edges of the slab, and part of the right hand and the crosier are missing. The surface of the face and the mitre are also damaged.

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There was some debate, cited in Gough, Sepulchral Monuments, vol. I, 85, and Bodl Gough Maps 222, 85, about whether or not these were intended to represent stigmata. Carter vehemently denied to Gough the holes' existence at all, calling in to doubt his normally exemplary skills of observation.

418 History, attribution and scholarship: The fates of the two surviving effigies here under consideration (Cat. 11 and Cat. 12) are joined, and so this entry will at first consider both together. The first written reference to either effigy appears in notes taken by Stukeley c.1715, by which time the two effigies had been placed together against the south wall of the south choir aisle in the sixth bay east of the crossing, a bay which had been widened and decorated for a tomb or chantry chapel in the ?fifteenth century. Early ichnographies, such as that made by Samuel Gale in 1720 and that printed by Browne Willis in 1727, confirm the positions noted by Stukeley.184 In 1782, the tombs were still there, as noted by Thomas Pennant and by draughtsman John Carter.185 Stukeley offers some information on identification and on previous location, as well as on the circumstances under which they were moved. One of the effigies, he stated, though regrettably without identifying which, belonged to Bishop Langton (d.1321), and had been moved c.1670 from its original position south of the high altar to the south wall of the aisle in bay 6, so as to make room for a new monument to Bishop Hacket (d.1670) under the choir arcade.186 This effigy he described as the 'uppermost' of

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For Gale's plan, see Browne Willis, Bodl Ms Willis 46, fol. 195v, 196 and 198v, and for the printed plan, Willis, Survey, vol. I, 371. Willis's plans show only one effigy in the aisle, although given Carter's comments, the other was in the wall and therefore perhaps not visible on the plan. Willis's text says there are two “defaced tombs” of the bishops opposite the tomb of Bishop Hacket in bay 6 against the south wall. Pennant, Journey from Chester to London, 108. For Carter's drawings, see BL Add Ms 29925, fol. 156. LCL MS Lich 22, “A traditional account of some things remarkable in the Cathedral Church of Lichfield from a MS supposed to be written by Dr Stukely about the year 1715,” 60. The full text reads, “Next we come to two figures cut out in grey marble, the Upermost is Bp Langton who was Lord Treasurer of England, he built that part of the Lady Choir which is added to the Old Church, also.... his corps lie under the high Altar, but his aforementioned effigies was removed to this place to make room for Bp Hacket's tomb. The lower figure is Bp Bead, lately removed and put here for the more convenient placing the Seats in the Choir. This bp's sepulture (with many others) in the time of the Civil Wars was Robbed....” Stukeley then went on to say that these effigies now occupy the space that had

419 the two. The other effigy, the 'lower figure' in Stukeley's account, formerly occupied a position in the choir, and was moved to the south wall location in recent years so as to provide convenient seating in the choir. With very few exceptions, historians have since followed Stukeley's assertion that one of these effigies is the displaced effigy of Langton. Based on sketches and notes John Carter made there in August 1782, it appears that the effigy then thought to have belonged to Langton was that made of Purbeck (Cat. 12). Carter showed the Purbeck effigy placed on a tomb chest under a late medieval mural arch in bay 6 snug against the south wall. The effigy under consideration here, which Carter assigned to Bishop Patteshull (d.1241), lay parallel, closer to the ground, in the aisle itself.187 Their positions as drawn by Carter correspond to Stukeley's description of 'uppermost' and 'lower.' In 1788, the few surviving tombs were moved again as a result of Wyatt's renovations to the east end. Hacket's tomb was re-erected against the south wall under the window of bay 6, in the place where the two effigies had rested since c.1670.188 The two

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held the medieval monument to Bishop Scroop. While bay 6 in the south wall was definitely a late medieval tomb of some note, as evidenced by the additional painted and carved imagery in that niche, it could not have belonged to Bishop Scroop, who was buried at York. For Hacket's tomb of c.1671, see an engraving made by Hollar, printed in Shaw, pl. XXVIII. On Stukeley's text, and full discussion in footnotes of the tombs mentioned therein, see Nigel Tringham, “An early eighteenth-century description of Lichfield Cathedral,” South Staffordshire Archaeological and History Society Transactions for the year 1986-7, vol. xxviii, 55- 63. Tringham dates Stukeley's account to after 1717. BL Add Ms 29925, fol. 156, two ink washes produced for Richard Gough showing birds-eye views of both medieval effigies. He annotated the images: “Two statues in the south ile [sic] of Litchfield Cathedral, they are placed, the 1st under an arch and the 11nd close to it on the ground almost being raisd somewhat by a plinth....” Carter's notes explain Stukeley's choice of language in describing one effigy as being 'upermost' and the other being 'the lower figure.' Carter added that the first (that under the arch) is carved in Sussex (Purbeck) gray marble and the second in granite. Gough printed engravings of these images in Sepulchral Monuments, vol. I, pl. XXVIII. These are the first known sketches since Dugdale's visits. The remnants of the late medieval tomb (arch and possibly tomb chest) under the window in bay 6 were taken down and no longer survive. A wall painting of the Trinity, which undoubtedly formed the backdrop to the tomb under the arch, was uncovered in the process, then covered again by paneling to form a new backing for the Hacket tomb (as seen in early photographs in Rodwell, “Revealing the

420 medieval episcopal effigies were moved one bay further west, to the fifth bay, and arranged in the bay end-to-end. Why Wyatt rearranged all of the tombs in the south wall, rather than simply placing Hacket in an unoccupied bay, is not clear. Perhaps the additional decoration of the widened and carved window splays in bay 6 was thought to have been more suited to Hacket's tomb, certainly the most impressive of the otherwise bedraggled collection of ancient tombs. Plans of the cathedral made up through c.1880 confirm the placement of the two medieval episcopal effigies end-to-end in bay 5.189 By 1891, both medieval bishops' effigies had been moved yet again. They were placed under the south choir arcade, just outside the stalls, this one in the second bay east of the crossing, and Cat. 12 in the third bay east of the crossing. In 1979, when restoration of the Hacket tomb in bay 6 (where it had been placed c.1788) led to the rediscovery of the late-medieval wall painting of the Trinity, a decision was made to switch the location of this effigy (Cat. 11) with Hacket's tall tomb, so that the painting could be clearly seen. The effigy is currently placed before the Trinity painting on a low, modern base (thus approximately recreating its location in c.1715), with a sign labeling it as Langton's tomb. While the Purbeck effigy (Cat. 12) was consistently identified with Langton until

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History,” 23 and John Maddison, ed., Medieval Archaeology and Architecture at Lichfield, BAACT (Leeds: Maney and Son, 1993), pl. XXIIC). A c.1790 bill from Wyatt in the LJRO, D30/6/1/12, confirms the disturbance in both bays, which were to be made ready for the tombs. See, e.g., Wild, Lichfield, 1813; Storer, vol. II, 1816; Britton, Lichfield, in his plan of 1819 published in 1820; the c.1817 plan in Dugdale, Monasticon, vol. VI, pt. 3; and a c.1880 plan in the LJRO D30/6/2/56. Woodhouse, A Short Account of Lichfield Cathedral (reprint 1823), 58-59, gives credit to Wyatt for gathering all the remains of monuments in the south aisle, “viz.... the recumbent figure of a Bishop, supposed to be Hugh de Patteshull, who died 1241. that of the munificent Bishop, Walter de Langton, who died 1321.” Britton, however, mistakenly places everyone to the west one bay. His plate XVI shows a fictitious arrangement of the two medieval effigies in an attempt to be economical with his plates.

421 c.1891, identification of this effigy has varied wildly, from Bishop Clinton (d.1148) to Bishop Blithe (d.1531). In the nineteenth century, historians seemed to settle on an identification with Bishop Patteshull.190 However, since Paul's 1891 plan, this effigy has instead been labeled to Langton, and this label remains at the cathedral today. Dating by stylistic analysis is not as straightforward as desired. The decision to omit any additional embellishment on the slab, such as an architectural canopy or censing angels, both of which were major decorative and iconographical features of thirteenthcentury episcopal tombs, might suggest a date in the later medieval period. Architectural surrounds were used less in the fourteenth century, which may be what prompted the modern label to Langton. However, most fourteenth-century effigies have a pair of angels at the head; this does not. Rather than belonging to a later, more austere period of effigial sculpture, I suggest this dark stone effigy was of an earlier, experimental phase, as it bears similarities to effigies dating to the 1230s and 1240s at Worcester and at Temple Church. The large pillow, with its creases and indentation caused by the weight of the head, is an unusual feature. Rectangular pillows become common at mid-century and were replaced by diagonally-placed pillows c.1260, but this particular pillow is more detailed than most, the sculptor having decided to show the creases and indentation formed by the head 190

Stukeley, LCL MS Lich 22, 60 said one was Langton, the other a Bishop Bead (but there was no Bishop Bead at Lichfield). Gale, Bodl Ms Willis 46, fol. 195v, 196 and 198v (1720): “Bp Langton and a Bp unknown viz Bp Blithe.” Willis, Survey (1727), vol. I, 371: Bishop Langton and Bishop Blyth (d.1531). Carter, BL Add Ms 29925, fol. 156 (1782): Langton and Patteshull. John Jackson Junior, History of the City and Cathedral of Lichfield (London: 1805), 132-3: Langton and Patteshull. Woodhouse, 58-59: Langton and Patteshull. Dugdale, Monasticon, c.1817: Langton and Bishop Clinton (d.1148). JB Stone, A History of Lichfield Cathedral, from its foundation to the present time (London, 1870), 85: Langton and Patteshull. Gough, Sepulchral Monuments, vol. I, 84-5 and Beresford, Lichfield, 111, also both identified this effigy as Patteshull's. Carter seems to be the first to suggest the names of Langton and Patteshull, though this is exactly opposite the attributions given at the cathedral today.

422 of the bishop. Only one other episcopal effigy includes this detail: a Purbeck episcopal effigy in Temple Church (Cat. 13), also unusual in style and also unattributed, but probably dating to the 1230s or early 1240s. The style of the foliage on the pillow aligns the Lichfield monument with others around the mid-thirteenth century, but more specifically, the foliage bears strong similarity to that on the slab of the Purbeck episcopal effigy in the chancel at Worcester (Cat. 34), which probably dates to the 1230s based on its similarities to the effigy of King John at the same church. Like the Lichfield effigy, Cat. 34 stands on a base supported by rich curls of foliage. The two thirteenthcentury effigies in the chancel at Worcester (Cats. 33 and 34) lack architectural surrounds as does the Lichfield effigy; the Worcester effigies instead lie on a bed of curving vinescroll. One of the Worcester effigies (Cat. 33), like that at Lichfield, is of a dark nonshelly limestone. Although the figure is considerably larger than most of the thirteenth-century effigies, with a smooth, broad face, thick neck, and widely splayed elbows and broad shoulders, some features of the figure style indicate a date in the second quarter of the thirteenth century. These include the overall massing of the figure into a wide, but relatively low-relief rectangular shape with little undercutting of the figure, and the pose of the arms, which are contained within the main outline of the body. Other effigies with these features include the two in the Worcester chancel (Cats. 33, 34), Bishop Bingham at Salisbury (Cat. 19), and the three early episcopal effigies at Exeter (Cats. 6, 7, 8), all dating to the 1240s or earlier. The non-Purbeck effigy in the chancel at Worcester (Cat. 33) also displays a similar breadth of figure to the Lichfield effigy.

423 The drapery style strongly suggests an early date. The myriad of soft, complex ripples on the surface of the garments are carved in a similar manner to those on King John's effigy (1230s), the Purbeck episcopal effigy at Worcester (Cat. 34), and Bingham's effigy at Salisbury (Cat. 19). The undercut loops of fabric at the hemlines of the garments are reminiscent of the hemline on King John's effigy. The slit at each side of the dalmatic folds back on itself in reaction to gravity, but the sculptor has not attempted the naturalistic treatment, typical of later thirteenth and fourteenth century figures, of the chasuble material where it falls over the arms. The chasuble itself rests in a solid layer above the figure's legs and lower garments, like on other mid-thirteenth century effigies (e.g. Cat. 4). Overall, while the carving of the body is clumsy, the numerous folds of cloth, low in relief and densely nested together, as well as the carefully rippled hemline and the indentations for jewels on the vestments, portray an interest in minute details which is more typical of an early thirteenth- rather than a fourteenth-century date. Gardner had also dated the effigy to c.1245, describing it as “a kind of dark slaty limestone,” “based on the Purbeck style of the middle of the century.”191 Gardner identified the effigy as belonging to Bishop Patteshull, who seems the most likely candidate based on style. Patteshull died suddenly in 1241, while young and after having been consecrated only in 1240. The effigy may have been made locally, and possibly made rapidly, which may explain some of its awkwardness and the use of what may be local stone. His financial estate may not have been sufficient to allow for an effigy made in a workshop further afield or of a stone from more distant quarries. If this is Patteshull's monument, then Patteshull's monument must have been 191

A Gardner, 165.

424 within the choir walls, probably in the western bays, according to Stukeley, who said this effigy was removed by c.1715 so as to provide more convenient seating in the choir. Eighteenth-century plans show permanent choir stalls in the three westernmost bays, but an archaeological dig in 1856 found a burial aligned with the piers of the north arcade in bay 4. It is possible that this effigy should be associated with that burial. Surviving medieval documentation, however, such as the Chronicon Lichfeldensis, tells us that Bishop Hugh de Patteshull was buried near the altar of St Stephen, a location which does not fit with Stukeley's account.192Several problems of interpretation arise here. The first is that the location of this altar is unknown, but also that its position in any case may have changed during the early fourteenth-century rebuild of the eastern bays of the church.193 Another problem is that it is unclear whether the chronicler was recording information from an older source written at the time of Patteshull's death, or if he was recounting the burials as they were in his own time, i.e. the early fourteenth century, by which time the eastern end had been renovated. It is also possible that Patteshull's burial had been moved, either as a result of the fourteenth-century renovations, or as a result of the

192

193

Bodl Ashmole MS 770, “Chronicon Lichefeldensis Ecclesie: quod ab initio rerum Britannicarum ad annum 1559 deductum, fundationem illius docet, seriemque regum et episcorum exhibet; e veteribus historiis et monumentis confectum, studio Guilelmi Whitloci, Lichefeldensis canonici.” This is fols. 150b, written in a sixteenth-century hand (see also Bodl Ashmole MS 865, a copy of the same, but in more modern script). Wharton printed another version of the chronicle in Anglia Sacra, that he called the Historia de Episcopis Coventrensibus et Lichfeldensibus, by Thomae Chesterfield, a canon of Lichfield, and extended by canon William Whitelocke from 1347-1559. For the reference to Patteshull's burial, see Bodl Ashmole 770, 47; Wharton, vol. I, 439. In Patteshull's time, the east bay held four chapels; these were removed in favor of an enlarged central chapel with two smaller side chapels at the east end of each choir aisle. An altar to St Stephen is known from 1241 statutes: see VCH Staffordshire, 54, where the author says it was in the north transept. Roland Paul's 1891 plan places it in the north transept, probably based on Browne Willis's plan of 1727, which shows the north transept chapels as the consistory court and St Stephen's chapel. It is possible that St Stephen's chapel may have been one of the eastern chapels before the eastern extension in the early fourteenth century, and was later switched to the north transept. Wharton says ante the altar of St Stephen, whereas the Bodleian manuscript says juxta St Stephen.

425 destruction of the civil wars; Stukeley does indicate that this tomb had been damaged and looted at that time. The documentary evidence thus does not provide a conclusive association between this monument and Bishop Patteshull's burial. Matching the effigy up with Sedgwick's pre-civil war drawings is also problematic. The sculptured figure, with its unusual pillow and lack of angels at the head or beast at the feet, does not easily fit with any of Sedgwick's drawn effigies. The closest likeness is to an effigy that was given a dark wash by Sedgwick, and which was said to have been on the north side of the choir. If this is that effigy, its location as recorded by Dugdale may corroborate Stukeley’s account. The effigy in the sketch is large and boldly drawn, and has little accompanying sculpture. However, Sedgwick drew a beast at the effigy's feet (perhaps a misunderstanding of the foliate corbels?). The tomb chest he delineated below the effigy no longer exists.194 At the very least, the suggestion that the effigy belonged to Langton must be discounted. The effigy as compared to that sketched for Dugdale and labeled as Langton's does not make a good match. The drawing shows a beast at the effigy's feet (unlike the actual effigy), and his head rests on a pillow surrounded by a canopy (there is no canopy on the actual effigy). A surviving fragment of stone can be identified as having belonged to the tomb chest in the 'Langton' sketch, but the rest of the tomb remains unidentified, and it is entirely possible that Langton's effigy, despite the hopes of some historians, did not survive the civil wars. 194

BL Add Ms 71474, fol. 9. The proportions of the tomb chest as drawn look as if the chest post-dates our effigy, except that its main motifs are quatrefoils within circles, a relatively common thirteenth-century motif. It is also possible that the effigy on its slab could have been removed from St Stephen's chapel and placed within the choir enclosure, lower down to the ground, and therefore was not seen or recorded by Dugdale and Sedgwick.

426 The bay in which the effigy is now housed was not originally intended for this effigy, although the cathedral web site and the current display in the cathedral imply an association, as if both components were part of Langton's tomb. Nevertheless, the niche merits attention in its own right. The dado wall has been cut back to form a recess whose back wall is on the same plane as the window glass. The arch around the window has been carved in two rows of deeply undercut foliage, formed of large, crinkled leaves on a single twining stem rising up to the peak. On the back wall is a damaged painting of the Trinity, probably dating to the early fifteenth century.195 The painting no doubt once was framed by a mural arch, and there are marks in the wall where an arch and a tomb chest were once attached (these could be from Hacket's tomb which was later placed here). The painting was apparently visible in 1798 when Shaw engraved an image of it and described it in his History of Staffordshire. His text asserts that the painting was “discovered a few years since.”196 Though I know of no contemporary source to confirm this, my suspicion, given Shaw's comment about the date of the find, is that Wyatt uncovered the painting when he adjusted this and the bay to its west to accommodate Hacket's tomb and the medieval effigies. It was then covered up again when Hacket's tomb was placed in the niche, as early photographs show. In 1979, while repairing Hacket's tomb, the painting was rediscovered and the panels obscuring it taken down.197 As for dating the painting, Shaw says a damaged inscription was painted on it (barely 195

196

197

An unpublished study was completed by Sharon Cather of the Courtauld Institute in the 1980s. Thanks to David Park for access to these notes. Shaw, 256, “An antient painting was discovered a few years since in the South aile, upon the wall of the cathedral, under the white-wash, by the Rev. Theophilus Buckeridge, who caused a drawing of it to be made by Mr Stringer, which may be seen engraved on Plate XXIV. Fig. 5.” Rodwell, “Archaeology in the South Choir Aisle,” Friends of Lichfield Cathedral Report (1993), 23-34, and the cathedral web site.

427 visible in the engraving), referring to a rector of the parish church of Wyggan, with date MCCCC, which suggests to Shaw that it was put up by Oliver de Langton, who was put in that rectory on the death of James de Langeton 1450 (not 1400?), and who probably was a canon in the cathedral. The niche seems to have never belonged to Bishop Langton: in Sedgwick's drawing of Langton's tomb, the effigy is facing the wrong direction for this spot. None of the tombs drawn by Sedgwick match up well with the painted niche. The closest match in Sedgwick’s drawings to the tomb niche is a drawing of a canon's tomb with a triple canopy, which Dugdale described as having been located in the south wall, across from the middle of the choir.

Cat. 12 Current location: south choir aisle, outside the choir stalls in the third bay east of crossing Identification: Currently labeled Hugh de Patteshull (d.1241), but more likely for Bishop Roger de Weseham (d.1257) Measurements: Width at feet, 47 cm; width at head, 77 cm. Length of slab, 222 cm; length of figure, 199 cm. Distance between foliage spurs, approx. 18 cm. Distance between colonnette and slab, 10.5 cm. Depth of canopy, 17 cm, including slab. Depth of figure at head, its highest point of relief, 23 cm, including slab. Height of slab approx. 5 cm. Major features: Purbeck effigy on a tapered slab, now separated from the coffin or tomb chest and

428 on a modern base. The effigy is carved as if standing within an architectural niche. He stands on a foliate corbel projecting from the slab, and his head is framed by a canopy supported by colonnettes which descend on either side of the figure to the corbel under his feet. The main feature of the canopy is a crocketed gable with an inner trefoiled molding around the head. At its top (the west end) is a cross-ridge, and at the sides are two smaller gables aligned perpendicularly to the main gable and to the slab. Two angels swoop downwards out of clouds in the spandrels and swing thuribles toward the bishop's head. The angels' drapery and wings survive very well. The colonnettes along the length of the figure are carved in the round, raised a full ten centimeters above the slab. The capitals are foliate with squared impost blocks, and the bases are rounded. Supporting each colonnette were five clusters of foliage whose trilobed leaves curled around the front of the colonnettes. In between these clusters are intermediary stems with trilobed leaves carved in low relief on the slab. A sprig of foliage also appears in between the feet, on top of the corbel. The corbel is supported by three large bunches of stiff-leaf foliage curling out from the slab and away from the corbel, in between which are single stems curling upwards around the corbel. The effigy and its architectural framework are carved in high relief, the bishop's head projecting approx. 18 centimeters from the slab. The body itself is narrow and the chest raised high so that the figure is boldly rounded in section. The arms are outstretched, beyond the main line of the body. The bishop is bearded, his eyes open, and his hair carved across the front of the forehead under the mitre. His head rests on a slight rectangular pillow. He is vested in mass pontificals. The chasuble lies fairly flat across

429 the chest, then falls in consecutive ripples, arranged along a central axis, all the way down to the knees. The folds of the chasuble do not interact but are nested inside each other. Some of the ridges are broken off, but were previously in high relief. Dalmatic, tunicle and alb lie underneath, each in relief above the layer below. The garments form troughs on either side and in between the legs. The stole is also in relief. There are no indentations carved in the vestments for jewels, but the bishop wears a morse carved in relief at his neck very like one on display in the cathedral treasury. His mitre has deep cuts for jewels around the base and the front vertical band. The amice folds out wide at the base of the throat. The hands are gloved. The right hand is raised in blessing; part is missing, but two fingers (one with a ring) survive where the hand made contact with the canopy. The crosier, with a cloth wound around the staff, is in the left hand. The crosier head, attached to the canopy, is turned inwards toward the figure and is relatively small. The bottom part of crosier is missing, but it would have pierced the corbel in between his feet. The maniple is in relief, and hangs from the left arm along the side of the body. The effigy has some surviving paint fragments: red on his right shoe, at its join with the base on the south side, and two fragments of red paint under the chasuble on the right side, one under the tip of the chasuble, the other under the folds falling from the arm. The effigy has sustained a considerable amount of damage, including a crack across the waist, damage to the right hand, broken colonnettes and several of the supporting foliate spurs, damage to the sides of the slab and the bottom of the corbel, and is missing sections of the crosier. The left hand may have been replaced; there is no visible join, though the stone seems a different color and is perhaps too well preserved.

430 History, attribution and scholarship: As noted in Cat. 11, by c.1715, this effigy had been moved from a location under the south choir arcade near the altar, and was placed under a late-medieval mural arch in bay 6 against the south wall, while the other (Cat. 11) was laid alongside it, on the floor of the aisle. They remained here until c.1788, when both were moved one bay to the west, this time arranged end-to-end in the bay. An early nineteenth-century drawing taken by Edward Blore shows less damage than currently visible. 198 This birds-eye view of the full length of the effigy shows damage only at the base and the arms. The foliate corbel under his feet only survived wholly on the bishop's left side, and part of the bishop's right arm was missing. By 1891, both were moved just south of the choir stalls. This effigy was placed in the third bay from the crossing, where it lies today. 199 On Roland Paul's 1891 plan, the labels were switched, so that this effigy was identified as belonging to Bishop Patteshull. The current label repeats this attribution. Some features on one of the bishop's effigies drawn by Dugdale's artist, Sedgwick, match up with the Purbeck effigy.200 These visitors recorded only one effigy with a faceted, gabled canopy around the head and no animal at the feet. There are, however, inconsistencies, as the artist did not show the angels, supplying in their stead an unusual foliate motif, nor the distinctive colonnettes with their foliate supports. If this illustration does represent the Purbeck effigy as it lay in 1640, it was then positioned on a 198

199

200

Blore, BL Add Ms 42013, fol. 8. He labeled it, following Carter, Bishop Langton. Blore did not mention the type of stone or location, nor did he reveal any architectural context for the effigy. Plan by Roland Paul (1891), printed in Maddison, ed., Medieval Archaeology and Architecture at Lichfield, BAACT, (Leeds: Maney and Sons, 1993). When the two effigies were moved out of bay 5, the wainscoting on the south wall in bay 5 was re-done in a Victorian version of the early fourteenthcentury blind arcade. BL Add Ms 71474, fol. 8; College of Arms C.36, fol. 57; Bodl Ashm 853, fol. 63.

431 tomb chest under a wide architectural canopy with pointed arch and cinquefoiled inner molding.201 Dugdale recorded the existence of some color on the effigy, which may correspond to the fragments of paint in the crevices of the Purbeck effigy. Dugdale described this tomb as on the south side of the choir, “near the altar,” but he unfortunately did not identify the tomb's occupant. As the altar seems to have been in bay 6 since the early fourteenth-century right up until Wyatt cleared it away in 1788, it is likely that the tomb sat in bay 6, under the south choir arcade.202 Since bay 6 was where Bishop Hacket's burial was placed c.1670, this explains, in part, Stukeley's comments about Hacket's tomb displacing a monument previously in that location. Hacket may well have displaced the Purbeck effigy and placed it under the arch in the south wall of bay 6, where Stukeley, Carter, and Pennant all saw it and described it in the eighteenth century. This part of Stukeley's story, then, might be accurate. Stukeley's identification of the tomb as being for Langton, however, conflicts with the evidence provided by Dugdale, who identified another tomb entirely as belonging to Langton.203 Gough knew of Dugdale's drawings and their copies in Ashmole's collection

201

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203

The cinquefoiled pointed arch in the drawing does not correspond with any known tombs from the midthirteenth century, but could have been added later when the church was extended to the east. A similar style of molding is found elsewhere in the thirteenth century, however, e.g. the arcading in the Salisbury chapter house, c.1280. During the renovations, Wyatt took down Hacket's 1660s screen and found that it had covered the existing medieval one: Shaw, 260, and several authors thereafter. Therefore the location of the reredos screen between the eastern piers of bay 6, as shown in 1720 by Samuel Gale is in the same location as the medieval screen. Warwick Rodwell, “Archaeology and the Standing Fabric,” 284, hypothesized that in the church predating the fourteenth-century renovation of the east end, the altar would have been in bay 4 from the crossing, with the shrine placed in bay 5, a passage around in bay 6, and eastern chapels in bay 7. When the fourteenth-century work extended the choir to the east, it effectively added two more usable bays of space in the retrochoir, and therefore the high altar could conceivably have been moved back at this time. Rodwell does not speculate on the fourteenth-century arrangement. BL Add Ms 71474, fol. 6.

432 and at the College of Arms.204 He evidently did not look closely at these sources, however, as he, like Stukeley and Carter, believed the Purbeck effigy belonged to Langton, despite the fact that Dugdale's drawing of “Langton's” tomb looks nothing like the effigy here in question.205 The style of the effigy also provides a major stumbling block to giving the Purbeck effigy to Langton. The effigy can be dated to the mid-thirteenth century with some certainty as it is typical of a number of effigies of Purbeck made at that time. The monument is damaged, but can be characterized nonetheless by richly carved motifs, great sculpted depth, and stylistically competent figures. The depth of the carving— particularly in terms of the shape of the body, the arms outstretched and carved partially in the round, and the deep canopy and colonnettes—places it in a group of sophisticated mid-thirteenth century effigies. The use of foliage along colonnettes is a motif which is found c.1230 in an effigy at Exeter (Cat. 7) and, based on a Hollar engraving, at about the same date in St Paul's (Cat. 63). It appears again c.1246 in the effigy attributed to Bingham at Salisbury (Cat. 19), although none of these examples exhibits the depth and daring of the freestanding colonnettes and foliate spurs of the effigy at Lichfield. This new attitude appears by the mid-1250s, for example in the effigy of Bishop Kilkenny at Ely (Cat. 4) and that of Archbishop Walter de Gray at York (Cat. 36). The pose of the figure, with arms outstretched rather than held close to the body, is also present on these 204

205

Bodl Gough Maps 222, 85, has an unpublished marginal annotation that a drawing in Ashmole's collection shows the effigy in Ashmole's time. Gough also knew of the collection in the College of Arms, C.36. In that drawing, the crosier is shown held in two hands, a mistake, says Gough. But Dugdale's view of 'Langton' also has a beast at feet and a pillow with crest of two mitres, and in these respects, as well as the double-handed hold on the crosier, does not match with the Purbeck effigy, as Nigel Tringham already noted in ‘An Early Eighteenth-Century Description of Lichfield Cathedral,' Transactions of the South Staffordshire Archaeological and Historical Society, xxviii, 55-63.

433 mid-1250s effigies, but not on earlier effigies. Modern stylistic analysis dates these effigies to the 1250s, but none has addressed the Lichfield effigy closely.206 The closest stylistic parallels for the Lichfield effigy are two tombs, one at Ely, and another at Carlisle (Cats. 2 and 4). These are so similar in motif as well as execution that all three must have come from the same workshop, if not the hand of the same sculptor, and at more or less the same time. Each of these three effigies has the same type of architectural ornamentation with complicated three-dimensional canopy and raised colonnettes, the same sharp facial features and manner of carving of hair, beard, and ears, the same figure massing, the same treatment of drapery, and the same overall sizing and effect. Since the late nineteenth century, the Purbeck effigy at Lichfield has been identified as belonging to Bishop Patteshull (d.1241), with the exception of the nineteenth-century historian William Beresford and Prior and Gardner, each of whom opined that the Purbeck effigy was for Bishop Roger de Weseham.207 Certainly Weseham provides a better stylistic fit, given its strong formal similarity to the effigies in Ely and Carlisle. The Ely effigy must date after c.1254, and probably belongs to Bishop William Kilkenny, and the Lichfield effigy probably does not belong to Bishop de Meuland, whose episcopate lasted from 1258 to 1296. The effigy most likely belonged to a bishop

206

207

A Gardner, 157, and Stone, 117, both date the Ely effigy to mid-century, though neither address the Lichfield effigy directly. Stone noted that about 1250, “a new florid style of monument develops in which both effigy and niche are deeply undercut and richly ornamented with stiff-leaf foliage.” Stone used the Ely effigy as a good example of this mid-century development. Rogers, “English Episcopal Monuments,” 56, noted that the Purbeck effigy at Lichfield was for a mid-thirteenth century bishop. Beresford, 117, and 111 on de Weseham's death. He unfortunately did not give any specific reason for thinking this way. There is also a brief mention of the possibility, probably referring to Beresford, in AB Clifton, The Cathedral Church of Lichfield, Bell's Cathedral Guide (1898), 92-3. See also Prior and Gardner, 582-3.

434 whose dates fall in a very narrow window in the middle of the 1250s.208 De Weseham retired from the bishopric in 1256, and died in 1257 when he was buried in the cathedral.209 I believe it highly likely that the Purbeck effigy at Lichfield was not made for Bishop Patteshull, a name which at any rate was not associated with the effigy until centuries after its production, but was instead made to commemorate Bishop Roger de Weseham. It seems likely that Roger de Weseham knew Bishop Kilkenny at Ely well; before transferring to Ely, William had served as archdeacon of Coventry in the Lichfield diocese during part of Roger's episcopate.210 The similarities between these two effigies may result from the two bishops having an executor in common. The documentation regarding Roger de Weseham's burial presents a mystery. The Lichfield chronicle described his tomb in the sixteenth century as being under a wooden chapel near (at the back of?) the tomb of Canon Radcliffe (d.1453).211 Where Radcliffe's monument stood is not known, but a raised wooden chapel under the arcade of bay 6 on the south side would have provided a convenient watching loft, such as those at St 208

209

210

211

Northwold was at Ely until 1254, and his tomb is known; therefore the tomb at Ely which matches the one at Lichfield must belong to a bishop in office soon after. Bishop Roger de Meuland could only fit the chronology if he prepared his memorial at a very early age. His dates fit with the deaths of Bishop Kilkenny at Ely (d.1256) and bishop Silvester de Everdon at Carlisle (d.1256). In addition to dying at the same time, all three knew each other from positions at Lichfield in the 1240s, and may have had an executor in common. The links between the mid-century bishops at Carlisle (Cat. 2) and de Weseham and Kilkenny (Cat. 4) are less clear. That Bishop Sylvester of Carlisle knew Kilkenny in 1248 is evidenced in EEA 29, Durham, no. 12A, and both Silvester and Kilkenny were variously involved in the king's service before their appointments as bishop. Preliminary research suggests that these three figures did know one another, but further research is of course necessary before determining how significant these acquaintances may have been. Wharton, vol. I, 447, addit. xv: “sub Oratorio ligneo ex adverso monumenti Doctoris Radcliffe,” from William Whitelocke's addition to the chronicle. But see Gough, Sepulchral Monuments, vol. I, 49, who in 1786 stated “But of these two monuments not the least traces remain.” There is no mention of a monument to Radcliffe in Habingdon's 1717 list of epitaphs, nor in Stukeley, nor in Shaw, who printed several sources together. Browne Willis, Survey (1727), 413, simply noted that Radcliffe was archdeacon of Chester (d.1453), and was buried in the cathedral. Bodl Ashmole 864, fol. 258 mentioned Radcliffe along with Bishop Norbrugge. Shaw did not mention a wooden chapel anywhere—was it removed at the Reformation?

435 Albans and at Christ Church, Oxford, for the shrine which seems to have been placed in the retrochoir from the early fourteenth century.212 The chapel may have been removed when the shrine was removed, and therefore not drawn by Sedgwick. We do know, however, that Dean Heywood erected a chantry chapel across the north aisle, which may have been of wood.213 If this is the same 'oratio ligneo,' then de Weseham's tomb would have been on the north side, which does not match with the information in Dugdale's drawing.

LINCOLN Lincoln has no effigial tombs from the twelfth or the thirteenth century. One Tournai lid carved with a Tree of Jesse from the twelfth century is illustrated in Fig. 7.

LONDON, TEMPLE CHURCH Cat. 13 Current location: in south wall of the chancel, eastern bay, next to the piscina Identification: unknown Measurements: Width at head, 85 cm; width at foot, 56 cm. Length of whole, 230 cm. Depth of effigy, approx. 25 cm.

212

213

On the shrine being in this location, see VCH Staffordshire, 1990, 53-4. The seventeenth-century tomb of Paget, which Dugdale identified as being in the retrochoir, was said to have been on the site of the shrine. Langton gave money in 1307 for a magnificent new shrine, which presumably was meant to be placed in the new eastern end begun by him. VCH Staffordshire, 54, noted that a chantry chapel for Heywood, built in 1468, crossed over the north aisle and abutted the choir screen. It may have been of wood.

436 Major features: Dramatically tapered Purbeck slab and effigy resting on the plinth along the south wall. The Purbeck used for this monument is a rich dark brown with red tones, more like that used for Cat. 3 than the typical gray-green or black-brown of most Purbeck effigies. The effigy rests on an unusually deep modern base, with a complicated profile of several orders of roll and chamfered molding. The upper surface of the slab is relatively plain, not decorated with elaborate foliage; the only foliate details on this monument, in fact, are the trilobed leaves on the crosier head. The figure stands on an undecorated modern corbel, which supports a pair of engaged columns with rounded bases and bell capitals at the figure's sides. Over his head is a plain canopy formed of a gable and inner trefoiled arch. At either side of this gable are two angels, in low relief and parallel to the slab, shown frontally and statically. They kneel, one holding a censer and the other with hands held together in prayer. Angels such as these, carved flat on the slab rather than kneeling up out of it, are also found at Exeter (Cat. 8) and at Salisbury (Cat. 19). On the outer sides of each angel is a prominent but rudimentary architectural pinnacle with pyramidal cap, incised with basic lancet and quatrefoil shapes suggesting windows, a feature which likens it to Cat. 59. The figure of the bishop overwhelms the architectural niche and attending sculpture, tightly filling the canopy and raising up higher than it in section. His arms are raised, extending up past the shoulders and out beyond the outline of the body, so that his hands are carved in the round and the figure as a whole seems wider than most effigies in this pose. His crosier extends down left side of body then crosses between his feet to

437 pierce the mouth of a serpent; he makes the gesture of blessing with his right hand. His head rests on a pillow which creases with the weight of the head. His face is broad and he is not bearded. His hair curls in discrete locks arranged symmetrically under the unusually tall mitre. His pose is static, and his chasuble sits as a thick block of stone on top of the other garments. The edges of the chasuble hang straight rather than folding back as a result of the raised arms. However, the sculptor has activated the surface by covering the chasuble, from the neck down, in multitudinous, closely-spaced, complex folds, all interlocking in a very accomplished manner, causing hairpin loops where the folds from each side meet in the middle. The undergarments fall vertically in wide pleats, with some crimping and undercutting at the hemline. The shape of the legs are just visible below the garments. The stole and maniple have carved fringes, and the sudarium wound around the crosier ends in a carefully detailed flourish. The crosier disappears into the mouth of the serpent which, unusually, winds around the bishop's feet and meets its own tail in front of the bishop's calves. The effigy and slab are in extremely good condition, with few signs of restoration and no surface wear. The tip of the gable and the toes have been replaced. The effigy is cracked across the middle. The deeply molded base and the plain corbel under the feet are modern additions. There is no surviving evidence of paint. History, attribution and scholarship: Early histories of London paid attention to the military effigies in the church and

438 ignored that of the bishop, who remained in obscurity until the eighteenth century.214 An unpublished note made by Browne Willis regarding the effigy is the earliest so far found. Willis apparently made a manuscript marginal note in a book on the history of Carlisle to the effect that Bishop Silvester of Carlisle (d.1254) was buried in Temple Church. This note was printed in 1786 in Gough's Sepulchral Monuments. Why Browne Willis made such a supposition is unknown; neither Gough nor Willis supplied documentary proof.215 Medieval sources stated that Sylvester died after an accident near Northampton while on his way to Court; it is possible that the entourage continued on to London with the body, but normal practice would have been to bring him to his own cathedral for burial.216 Additionally, there is no known evidence linking Silvester de Everdon of Carlisle with the Temple Church in London. Another problem with Willis's suggestion is that a Purbeck effigy in Carlisle (Cat. 2) easily could be attributed to Silvester. The style of the Temple Church effigy suggests a date earlier than the episcopate of Silvester de Everdon, whereas the effigy in Carlisle is of a much more appropriate date for the Carlisle bishop.

214

215

216

Early histories silent on the subject include John Weever, Ancient Funerall Monuments (1631), 441-4; John Stow, Survey of London (1598), 327; James Howell, Londinopolis (1657), 334 (which repeats Stow); Dingley, History from Marble (1687), vol. 97, ccccxxiv-xxvii. Dugdale Monasticon, vol. VI pt. II, (1830), also does not mention the bishop. Pennant, Some Account of London, 1790, mentioned the bishop, but gave no identification or description. The monument was mentioned but not closely addressed in the Gentleman's Magazine (1808), pt. II, 97-100. Baylis, 94-115, has a summary of early writers who addressed the Temple Church monuments; see also the study by K A Esdaile. Most recently, the tombs are studied by Park, “Medieval Burials and Monuments,” and Lankester, “The Thirteenth-Century Military Effigies in the Temple Church,” both in The Temple Church in London: History, Architecture, Art, eds. R Griffith-Jones and D Park (Woodbridge: The Boydell Press, 2010). Park's essay includes the bishop's effigy, but Lankester's is focused on the military effigies. Sepulchral Monuments, vol. I (1786), lxxxix and 221: “the figure of a bishop pontifically habited, in the North [sic] wall of the choir of the Temple church, is by Browne Willis, in a MS note in his History of Carlisle cathedral in the hands of Mr Ord, referred to Sylvester [sic] de Everdon, bishop of Carlisle from 1246 to 1255.” Willis did not say anything in his publication or his notes on Carlisle about Silvester being killed in London and buried at the Temple. The medieval sources are cited in H Summerson, “The King's Clericulus: The Life and Career of Silvester de Everdon, Bishop of Carlisle, 1247-1254,” Northern History 28 (1992), 88.

439 Attribution to Silvester continued in the early nineteenth century, however, and has been repeated in the twentieth century.217 Authors have either followed Willis's suggestion, or mention the even less likely possibility that the effigy belonged to Heraclius, patriarch of Jerusalem (d.1196). The attribution to Heraclius was current by the 1830s, as recounted in several publications relating to the architecture of Temple Church, although it was frequently expressed with some doubt even then.218 The patriarch of Jerusalem, though important in the Church's history as the highest authority from the Holy Land to visit and indeed consecrate the church in 1185, died in the Holy Land, and there is no documentary evidence indicating that his body was brought to England for burial. This did not stop K Esdaile in 1933 from re-asserting in her book on the Temple Church monuments the old tradition that this was a retrospective effigy made for the patriarch, meant to express the Templars' ties with the Holy Land.219 She did not supply proof, but took for fact that Heraclius was indeed buried in London. The earliest views of the tomb illustrate it before the drastic nineteenth-century restoration of the church. Gough collected two ink wash drawings of the monument made

217

218

219

Addison, 307; G Godwin, 27-9, though without giving proof that “we know” Silvester was buried in this church. See also E Beresford Chancellor, The Annals of Fleet Street, Its Traditions and Associations (London: 1912), 219; Baylis, 25; Kemp, 20, but the latter without serious deliberation. Most recently, the effigy's identity has been considered by David Park, who, in the absence of firm documentation and any better candidate, cautiously retains the identification offered by Willis (pers. comm.; Park, “Medieval Burials and Monuments,” 85-6). G Godwin, 27-9, where he presents both theories, but on the Heraclius point he expresses much doubt; Billings, Architectural Illustrations, 46, merely gives the name Heraclius and does not discuss it; Burge, 66, mentions Heraclius but expresses doubt, since the dress of the effigy is not that of an eastern bishop, and (more importantly) there is no evidence of his body having been brought to London. K Esdaile, 69-72, including a photograph. She dismissed the attribution to Silvester since he had no known ties to the Temple. Her book is otherwise an heroic work of research into the moved and fragmented surviving monuments and the events that led to their current disposition.

440 by J Basire, the side view of which shows the effigy on a plain coffin.220 A print published in 1800 shows the effigy placed on this plain coffin, next to wooden rectilinear paneling, probably part of the improvements that are mentioned by Anthony Wood as having taken place in 1683.221 This engraving shows the toes broken off, and also reveals that the effigy slab is originally only one chamfer deep. The engraving also omits the corbel at the effigy's feet and suggests that it, like the layers of molding currently under the slab, was an addition. Another view of the bishop was published in the 1805 edition of Thomas Pennant's Some Account of London.222 Stothard engraved the effigy in 1812 for his publication. This view is the first to show the new corbel below the feet.223 According to George Godwin, the tomb in 1837 was “resting on an altar tomb, about 18 inches from the ground, and surrounded by an iron railing” near the south wall in the easternmost bay in the south choir aisle.224 The monument's pre-restoration position is noted in Billings's 1838 plan.225

220

221

222 223

224 225

Bodl Gough Maps 225, fols. 76 and 77, a birds-eye and side view, drawn probably near the end of the eighteenth century. Neither has any notes regarding identification or location. K Esdaile, 72, found a reference to a decision made in 1718 that the Society of Antiquaries would seek drawings of the Temple Church monuments (including the “patriarch”). Lethieullier in the 1730s informed the society that he had had some made. Esdaile did not say if their whereabouts is known. Published in JT Smith, Antiquities of London and Environs (London: 1791-1800). See also K Esdaile, 72. On the wooden wainscoting, Anthony à Wood, Athenae Oxoniensis (1691), vol. I, 375, noted that in 1683 “the Choire and Isles adjoyning belonging to the Temple-Church, were new-wainscoted and furnished with seats.” See also Hatton, New View of London (1708), vol II, 562-75. This paneling was removed in the renovations in the 1840s. Pennant, vol. II, 4th edition, 139-41. Stothard, 28. The text says the effigy is unattributed and does not supply a date. No color is recorded. The textual description says it lies under south wall of the temple and is sculptured in hard stone, in “very sharp relief.” Stothard's usual attention to detail is lacking in some instances on this effigy; the architectural detail on the pinnacles, for example, is incorrect. But the existence of the corbel suggests it was either added after the tomb was opened in 1810 or that the earlier views neglected to record its presence. G Godwin, 27. His description of the altar tomb matches that shown in early images. On Billings's plan it is marked as the letter O, at the bottom corner of the south east aisle. The monument is too encumbered by later monuments for it to be visible in an engraving by le Keux of the southeast aisle in G Godwin, 27-8.

441 The tomb was opened in 1810, and a skeleton of a prelate was found, buried with a skeleton of a child.226 The very fact that the prelate's skeleton was whole should be enough proof to put to rest the argument that the body of Heraclius was brought back from Acre, as he most likely would not have been transported that great distance whole, and also should disprove the possibility that it was a retrospective cenotaph. The presence of the child's skeleton has invited speculation that the prelate was buried with a child of Henry III who was supposedly buried in Temple Church c.1256, as mentioned by Weever in 1631, and Sandford in 1677.227 It is possible however that the skeleton was that of a young relative of the prelate, or that the skeleton was placed in the coffin at a later date. Godwin reported that the lead had been cut into on a previous occasion. The tomb was restored in the early 1840s and placed near its previous position, but in a newly built niche above the plinth in the south wall.228 The plain tomb chest recorded in drawings around the turn of the nineteenth century is no longer visible. The burial has been sunken into the church's plinth, on which the effigy now rests. Richardson noted that it was raised on a new base several inches above the plinth.229

226

227

228

229

G Godwin, 27-8; Addison, 307; Richardson, Monumental Effigies, 31; Richardson, Ancient Stone and Leaden Coffins, 17-18 and plate IV. See also K Esdaile, 4 and 70, citing Jekyll, Facts and Observations Relating to the Temple Church and the Monuments Contained in it (1811). It was opened a second time in the 1840s, as the monuments were moved out of the choir to avoid damage during restoration. Weever, 441-4; Sandford, 92; Addison, 307; Baylis, 25-6. K Esdaile, 71, stated that she could not find a medieval source for the statement, however; if it is true, only a burial with the patriarch Heraclius would make sense to her. A full account of the restoration of the church is in Burge; for the tombs, see pp. 65-67. K Esdaile, 1228, has a detailed summary of the restorations of the church based on the Temple's records. The tombs were moved out of the church temporarily so that they were not damaged during restoration. Most were not returned to their original places. As for the bishop's effigy, “it does not now, as formerly, project into the aisle, but a recess has been formed for it in the wall, where it rests on the leaden coffin” (Burge, 66). See also K Esdaile, 14-15 and 70. The cleaning and restoration of the effigy was carried out by E Richardson and described in his publications of 1843 and 1845. Addison, 307, recounted its placement in a recess in the wall, but still described it as resting on an altartomb. In this he must have been mistaken, or else he meant that the tomb was encased by the plinth.

442 Richardson described some small defects: “The tops of the canopy, finials, and mitre were gone; and also the thumb of the right hand, the lower folds of the chasuble, the feet, the upper part of the dragon's head, and one entire side of the plinth. The upper part of the pastoral staff was detached, and the portion of the figure towards the feet much decayed. No colour was found upon it.” This last comment is curious, as according to Burge, the restoration cleared layers of dirt and paint from the effigy.230 Perhaps Burge confused the condition of this monument with those of the knights, which, according to Richardson, were encrusted with dirt and paint. This does not preclude the possibility of it having been painted in the medieval period. Richardson's publication on the monuments in 1843 has a lithograph of the bishop's effigy. The effigy is not easily dated by stylistic analysis. The deep relief of the effigy and the raised arms carved in the round suggest a date in the 1250s, but the static nature of the body and its draperies and the disposition of the angels is more typical of the 1240s or earlier. The thick layer of stone representing the chasuble is a feature that disappeared by the 1250s. The drapery is similar in detail, scale, and arrangement to that of Bingham at Salisbury (Cat. 19), but the combination of drapery treatment and robust figure finds no easy parallel among the surviving Purbeck effigies. In its overall figure shape and drapery treatment, and in specific details such as the broad neck and face, soft rippling curves of the drapery around the arms, and the creased pillow, the most favorable comparison lies with the dark stone effigy at Lichfield (Cat. 11), and a date around the

230

Richardson, Monumental Effigies, 16, for the new location and base. See also plate 11 and pp. 30-32. Richardson, Ancient Stone and Leaden Coffins, 17-18, noted again the new Purbeck base for the effigy. Burge, 66: “The paint and dirt with which the figure had been encrusted and which concealed the expression of the countenance, as well as the exquisite manner in which the dress was executed, were most carefully and judiciously removed by Mr W. S. Richardson [sic?].”

443 1240s is here hazarded. In the 1230s and early 1240s, Temple Church must have seemed a desirable place to be buried. Henry III had in the 1230s chosen to be buried there, and had set up a fund for masses to be said in the church on his behalf.231 The Early English choir was added around this time, and consecrated in 1240. The style of effigy suggests a 1230s or 1240s date (earlier than the 1256 date of the royal child's burial), which coincides with this period. There are, however, only a few candidates for burial, as most bishops from that time period are said to have been buried elsewhere. There is also very little in the way of documentation regarding any bishop who was particularly generous to the Templars, and there are only two bishops who were possibly involved with them during the crusades.232 The most likely candidate for burial here based on personal affiliation is Peter des Roches (d.1238), the bishop of Winchester, who of all the bishops wielded the most power over the King, and who spent five years on crusade in the Holy Land with the Templars and Hospitallers. However, by the end of his life, he had fallen out of favor with the king, and Matthew Paris tells us he was buried in the church at Winchester. Bishop William Brewer of Exeter (d.1244) also accompanied des Roches and the knights on crusade, but he, too, according to Matthew Paris, was buried in his own church. Another possibility is Bishop Neville of Chichester (d. 1244), who is recorded as having made a grant of perpetual vicarage to the Templars and who was heavily involved in the King's affairs; but he is also said to have been buried in his own church. Bishop Herbert Poore

231 232

VCH London, vol. I (1909), 185-91. A list copied by Dugdale taken from John Stillingflete's compilations in 1434 notes benefactors to the Templars, but does not single out any bishops which fit these dates: Bodl MS Dugdale 39, fols. 41-46b, copied probably from BL Cotton Ms Nero E.vi, and printed in Dugdale, Monasticon, vol. VI, 831.

444 (Salisbury, d.1217) made a grant to the Templars in 1206; his burial place is unknown, although if the effigy represents Herbert it must have been made several years after his death.233 There are a number of other bishops from that time period with unknown burial places, but none that immediately can be linked to the Temple Church tomb. At Rochester, for example, the burial of Bishop Henry Sanford (d.1235) is not mentioned in any local chronicle; the fact that a Robert de Sanford was Master of the London Temple from the 1230s to 1250s is suggestive, although I have yet to confirm a familial link between the two. All things considered, the little we know about this effigy means that there is no more satisfactory candidate than that suggested by Browne Willis, and an identification of the effigy with Silvester of Carlisle cannot entirely be ruled out.234 While Summerson's 1992 article on the bishop does not reveal any ties with the Temple Church, it does indicate that Silvester had been a loyal and capable, though unprepossessing, clerk in the king's service before being elected bishop of Carlisle.235

ROCHESTER Three effigies survive in the cathedral, all Purbeck, though a now-destroyed Limoges enamel effigy was commissioned in the 1270s (see Cat. 65). In addition to these are two decorated chests and two coffins with decorated lids, all of Purbeck. Cat. 14 Current location: north side of the south choir aisle, near the entrance to the crypt 233 234

235

For Herbert's grant dated 1206-7, see EEA 18, Salisbury, no. 242. The possibility that Willis confused this Silvester with another bishop of a very similar name, Silvester de Evesham, Bishop of Worcester (d.1218), must be discounted, as the Worcester bishop was recorded to have been buried in Worcester (Ann. Mon. II, 289). Summerson, 70-91.

445 Identification: usually given to John de Bradfield (d.1283); this attribution may well be correct for the mural arch and chest, but not the effigy. Measurements: Length of slab as it survives, 186 cm; probable approximate length if head were included, 216 cm. Depth of effigy including slab (taken at highest point, his arms on his chest), approx. 20 cm. Width at east end, approx. 55 cm; width at west end, approx. 68 cm, but this is not the original full width of the slab. Length of entire opening of niche, 204 cm Major features: A Purbeck effigy placed on a tomb chest in a large recessed mural arch dating to the late thirteenth century. However, the effigy, which is damaged and has been reset in this location, is probably not original to the arch. The figure is missing the head and probably a canopy around it, but by extrapolating from what remains it appears that the effigy slab would not have fit well in the mural arch. What remains of the slab was placed in the opening too far towards the east, so that the lower legs butt up against the eastern wall of the niche. The head probably would have measured an estimated additional 30 cm without allowing for a canopy. When whole, the effigy on its slab probably would not have fit into this opening. The slab has been placed awkwardly in the opening, and is sunken down on the north side by the feet. Damage to the feet and lower legs has been badly repaired with infill material, and the fragments of the lower parts of the legs have been attached slightly off-axis from the rest of the figure, so that the legs are no longer aligned. The slab for the effigy is tapered, and is bordered by a slightly rounded and raised

446 molding, making the background field from which the effigy rises slightly sunken. The effigy itself is in low relief, particularly compared to the two in the chancel (Cats. 15, 16); additionally the surface is very worn. The figure holds a book in his right hand, which rests on his stomach. His left hand (the fingers are visible) held a crosier, now gone. The angle of the remnants of the crosier indicates that it would have crossed over to the right foot. The garments are too worn to allow for much comment. The amice is low, and bordered with an incised line. The chasuble seems to have had regular nested folds, presumably once in higher relief, and which get bulkier towards the bottom of the chasuble. The regular parallel folds of the sleeve and the straight fall of the cloth at the sides of the chasuble indicate a date from the first half of the thirteenth century. More specifically, the drapery over the arm, the way the arm is held, the relative depth of the body, the way in which it is not greatly undercut from the slab, and the rounded molding along the slab’s edge, place this effigy in the same category as Cat. 19 at Salisbury, Cats. 7 and 8 at Exeter, and Cats. 48 and 49 at Peterborough. The mural niche is quite austere in its design, without the florid crockets and carvings on the cusps which would be found in the fourteenth century. A gable with bold, thick molding dominates the opening. There once was perhaps a finial at the apex, although there are no crockets on the gable. Above the pointed arch in the gable is a relief trefoil with barbed cusps in between each lobe. The pointed arch has openwork cusping, of trefoils alternating with inverted splayed V-shapes. Wilson defines this tracery as “Kentish tracery,” having “concave-sided or ‘barbed’ cusps whose ends appear to be split

447 and bent back as if made of some pliable substance.”236 There is no evidence of wall painting on the back wall, nor does Carter’s color wash from 1783 indicate any.237 Along the back of the pointed arch is an interior molding, ending in corbels with a leaf and an animal. The tomb chest is plain Purbeck, in two tiers. History, identification and scholarship: That the effigy originally did not accompany the niche is almost certain. Corroborating the physical evidence, Willis recorded in his manuscript notes “a tomb of a Bp the Head broke off” in the wall tomb in the north choir aisle, and suggested it belonged to Bishop Hethe.238 However, even this location would not have been its original location, as the architecture of the northern wall tomb is significantly later than the style of the effigy. Knowledge of its original location has been lost. Willis’s note is the earliest known explicit mention of this effigy. By 1772, the effigy had been placed in its current location within the wall tomb in the south aisle. Denne related that “the face and some other parts of it are now much defaced: this is

236 237 238

Wilson, “The Origins of the Perpendicular Style,” 30. Bodl Gough Maps 225, fol. 60. Bodl Ms Willis 46, fol. 255. The effigy is described and marked as such on his hand-drawn plan. The wall tomb in which it currently rests in the south choir aisle he labeled simply as “Another tomb of a bp probably of Bp Sheppey or Bradfield.” Unfortunately his manuscript notes are undated. The wall tomb in the south aisle is not mentioned in his 1718 published account, although he does make note, p. 288, of a damaged monument near the steps in the aisle leading to the east end, by which he probably means the tomb in the north aisle. The effigy however is not explicitly mentioned, nor is it noted in the account written by the visitors from Norwich in 1634. That the mural tomb in the north aisle and the effigy were married together for a while is also suggested by Carter’s sketches of the damage sustained by the wall tomb in the north choir aisle, Bodl Gough Maps 225, fol. 177, signed and dated 1783, and engraved for Sepulchral Monuments, vol. I, plate XXXVII, 103. His sketchy color wash of the tomb in “the north side of the choir leading to St William's chapel in Rochester” shows the slab and chest in a state of disrepair, although the upper part of the niche seems to have survived quite well. The tomb has since been restored with a new slab and the western part of the chest, about a third of it damaged in Carter's drawing, remade. It is tempting to think that the effigy may have been in the niche when the damage occurred, particularly as most of the damage was sustained at the western end on both tomb and effigy.

448 supposed to be the monument of John de Bradfield.”239 John Carter visited in 1783 and took some sketches of the tomb, annotated with the location (south aisle of the choir, near the steps to the undercroft) and an identification (“Supposed Bishop John de Bradford”).240 His drawings show exactly what survives today. Where the western part of the slab was missing, it was replaced with a new stone. On his birds-eye view Carter wrote, “This statue having been very much defac’d, parts have been made good by mortar &c. The original remains, is distinguish’d by being tinted of a dark colour, as it appears on the spot.” Carter's darker wash shows that the original remains extended just below the chasuble, and that he also thought the left foot to be original. In lighter tint to show modern replacements are the right foot, the lower legs, and the slab along the sides of the legs. He also shows that the left foot was placed too far over to the left of the body. The double-layer chest and the canopy are the same today as they are in Carter’s drawing. The niche itself is usually considered to have housed the tomb to Bishop John de Bradfield, despite some confusion over the medieval Latin descriptions of the location of 239

240

Denne and Shrubsole, The History and Antiquities of Rochester and its Environs (Rochester, 1772), 61; Denne, “Memorials of the Cathedral Church of Rochester,” in Thorpe, Custumale (1788), 195 (the description of the church and monuments in Thorpe’s 1788 publication are Denne’s, not Thorpe’s as Saul stated in “The Medieval Monuments,” 165). See also Gough, Sepulchral Monuments, vol. I, 203, although Denne, “Memorials,” 195, pointed out that Gough mistakenly thought the tomb was on the north side of the church. This was due to a mistake made on Carter’s final drawings for Gough’s plates, see n.240. Buckler in 1822 stated that “under the canopy of the south chapel is a headless figure of a bishop.” BL Add Ms 29925, fols. 253, 254, both drawn for Richard Gough, although neither was engraved. See also Bodl Gough Maps 225, fols. 60 and 62, side view and birds-eye view color washes signed by J Carter, sketched 1783. On the finished drawings in the Bodleian, Carter incorrectly located the tomb on the north side, but correctly placed it near the stairs to the undercroft. The side view demonstrates that the only original part of the south edge of the slab was along his arm, and this is also true today. His note on the birdseye view says, “View of the Remains of the Statue on the preceding monument (taken by standing on it).” This finished drawing, however does not show the feet off center as they should be, and the figure splays out to the sides much more than the very contained effigy does in actuality. His on-the-spot sketch is more accurate.

449 Bradfield's tomb.241 The author of BL Cotton Nero DII firmly stated that Bishop John de Bradfield was buried “a parte australi juxta ostium crubitorum.”242 However, Wharton, printing Edmund de Hadenham's chronicle up to 1307, printed the final word as “excubitory.”243 “Excubitory” has been interpreted as a watching chamber, but the meaning of “crubitorum” is elusive.244 While the manuscript descriptions of the location of Bradfield’s tomb are inconclusive, the architectural style of the niche does seem to correspond with Bradfield’s date of death. If, as Wilson suggested, the niche is a product of Michael of Canterbury, and thus one of the earliest ciborium tombs, with the tombs for Archbishop Pecham (1292; Cat. 1) and for members of the royal family at Westminster following in the final decade of the century, then it could be assigned to Bradfield and a date in the 1280s given.245 There are no other easy candidates for a tomb with a niche in this style;

241

242

243 244

245

Willis was unsure of its identification, suggesting it belonged either to Bishop John de Sheppey or to Bradfield: Bodl Ms Willis 46, fol. 255. Commentators in the eighteenth century did not question an attribution to Bradfield, e.g. Denne, “Memorials,” in 1788, and Carter in 1783. BL Cotton Nero DII, fol. 182. It was also printed this way in Flores Historiarum, ed. Luard (London, 1890), vol. III, 59. Wharton, vol. I, 352, and see Denne, “Memorials,” 195. For the watching chamber, see Denne, “Memorials,” 171. He uses the term excubitorium. He suggests that this was connected with the chapel of St Edmund in the western part of the south transept. But see St John Hope, “Architectural History,” 299, who discussed the difference between the Wharton printing and the Cotton manuscript, and concluded that 'crubitorum' might indicate the crypt. Most recently, Saul, “The Medieval Monuments,” 170, said his location (giving the Cotton phrase) is “hard to explain.” It is likely that the two words are variations meaning the same thing. Wilson, “The Origins of the Perpendicular Style,” 27-111. See also idem, “Medieval Monuments,” n.34, where he stated that Bradfield's monument “certainly” predates that of Pecham. Pecham’s tomb was probably made by Master Michael of Canterbury, the master mason at that church from the late 1270s, but who was working for the court by 1291. Wilson, “Medieval Monuments,” 461, suggested Bradfield's monument was completed before his transition to royal commissions, and that it was “the earliest English Gothic tomb-recess whose architecture is of high ambition. Its most remarkable feature, its pierced pendant cusping, shows an awareness of the decorative detailing of the cathedral portals which by the thirteenth century had become the main influence on French tomb architecture.” Saul, “The Medieval Monuments,” 170, relies on Wilson's analysis, saying it is “almost certainly” the work of Michael of Canterbury, and that the trefoil with split cusps in the gable is a hallmark of his style. While Wilson’s dating of the architectural niche relies on its identification as Bradfield’s, he does offer

450 the only other possibility would be Bishop Thomas de Wouldham (d.1317), but this would seem too late. 246 Most modern scholars acknowledge that the effigy is not likely to have been original to the niche, although none have noted the evidence provided by Willis that it was once in the north aisle, which strongly supports this supposition.247 The only episcopal burials at Rochester from the thirteenth century that remain unaccounted for date from the first half of the century: Benedict of Sawston (d.1226), who died at Rochester and was buried in the cathedral, and Henry de Sandford (d.1235), for whom no burial information survives but was probably interred in the cathedral. The effigy in question must, by process of elimination, belong to one of these bishops. That the left hand of the effigy holds a book rather than makes the gesture of blessing is an unusual iconographical detail.248 Books tend to be an attribute of abbots or

246

247

248

some contemporary examples which may be attributable to Michael of Canterbury and which might thus corroborate the date, for example, arcading from the cloister of Leeds priory near Maidstone, which is similar to arcading in St Etheldreda’s, Holborn, firmly dated to before 1286; also the chancel at Chartham church near Canterbury, which he gives a starting date of late 1280s or 1290s, since a reference in 1294 refers to the rebuilding of the church. Denne, “Memorials,” 196, reported that Wouldham requested burial in the cathedral or elsewhere as his executors saw fit (will in Reg Roffense, 113), but where his executors saw fit to bury him was not recorded. There is no mention of his burial in Cotton Nero DII, nor in Wharton, and the sources printed by Thorpe do not give details. Tatton-Brown, “Burial Places,” 17-18, stated that Wouldham probably had the first monumental brass at Rochester. Saul, “The Medieval Monuments,” 173, discusses a brass matrix now at the west end of the north choir aisle whose style he thinks places it in the vicinity of Wouldham's date of death, or else was made for Hamo de Hethe (d.1352) during his lifetime. St John Hope, “Architectural History,” 299, says the effigy seems earlier, but that the niche accords well with Bradfield's time. Tatton-Brown, “Burial Places,” 17, wrote that the tomb is “a fine early example of a so-called ‘Ciborium’ tomb with its ‘Kentish tracery’ canopy, though the mutilated effigy on the tomb seems to date from the earlier thirteenth century.” Saul, “The Medieval Monuments,” 170, stated that the effigy dates at least 20 years earlier. However, there are no candidates among bishops for a c.1263 tomb, and he does not discuss to whom the effigy might belong. Denne, “Memorials,” 195 seems to have been the first to notice in print that he held a book; this refutes Gough's earlier assertion that his hand was in gesture of blessing. Denne thought the book suited Bradfield's character as he was known as a man of learning. St John Hope, “Architectural History,” 299, also pointed out that the effigy holds a book and staff, but added that the sleeves of the clothing (alb, dalmatic, tunicle) secure its identity as a bishop.

451 priors, and the suggestion could be made that this is an effigy of a prior were it not for the crosier in left hand. This detail makes this a rare example of a bishop holding a book.249

Cat. 15 Current location: north side of the chancel, second bay from the east (opposite Cat. 16) Identification: probably Bishop Lawrence de St Martin (d.1274) Measurements: Width of slab at west end, 80 cm; width of slab at east end, 57 cm; length of chest, 226 cm; height of chest at west end, 45 cm; height of chest at east end (it slopes), 35; height of Purbeck slab, approx. 7cm; length of Purbeck slab, 230 cm; height of canopy, approx. 32 cm Major features: Purbeck effigy on a plain tomb chest, set against a wall in between chancel piers. The slab and tomb chest both taper towards the west end, and probably were made for the same tomb. Of the two effigies in the chancel, this is by far the more elaborate, with much more attention paid to surface detail. However, the two share the same general features, such as massing and depth of figure and of canopy, and treatment of drapery. The figure is within a niche topped by an elaborate canopy and supported by freestanding colonnettes down the sides of the figure. The capitals have stiff leaf foliage, and spurs of foliage rose up from the slab to support the shafts. These are now damaged, and the

249

Wilson, “Medieval Monuments,” 465, n.61, pointed out that the effigy of Archbishop Reynolds holds a staff and book, as does that of Bishop Walter Stapledon at Exeter, both from the early fourteenth century. He stated that these are the only two bishops' effigies he knows of with this feature. He did not make note of the so-called Bradfield effigy. Henry de Sandford, formerly monk and precentor at Rochester, apparently acquired the name “the Great Philosopher,” and it is possible that the book could be a reference to his learning (Denne, “Memorials,” 191).

452 colonnettes they supported are gone. On the south side, ?ivy leaves are carved in very low relief along the edge of the slab, in between each raised bunch of foliage. Those near the foot and head of the slab are in best state of preservation. The level of detail is such that the veins and thin stems are visible. These were not carved on north side, against the wall, so the effigy appears to have been carved specifically for a position against a northern wall. The canopy is in deep relief and curves around the head of the effigy in five facets. The more minute details on the canopy appear on the southern and not the northern side, confirming the tomb's original northern placement. The central opening of the canopy is formed of a nodding trefoil around the bishop's head with several orders of molding, and topped by a gable. Within the apex of the central gable is a miniature blind ‘rose’ window, with a central quatrefoil and eight lobes. In the corners are three additional small trefoils. The surface of the canopy incorporates a large variety of naturalistic foliage. For example, the outer band of trefoil molding is decorated with miniature rosettes, and the left spandrel has vine scroll. Around the gable is a band of alternating vine leaves and clusters of 3 grapes. Then there is a straight string course, and crockets all along top. The canopy has four additional facets at the sides, with blind architectural details. The south angled facet has a blind double-lancet window; the lancets are deeply recessed, trefoiled, and joined with a rosette at the top. There are colonnettes and mini-gables on either side, and a band of four quatrefoils runs along the bottom. The south facet, perpendicular to the slab, has part of a gable and a rosette made up of trefoils. Recessed about three inches behind the central gable is a battlemented

453 'wall,' with a string course and a trefoil within a roundel on each side of the gable. These join up with the faceted elements on both sides of the canopy. The bishop's head rests on a single pillow, placed diagonally. He has free-flowing, curly hair around his ears, and no beard. His open left eye survives, but much of the surface of the face is damaged. His right hand is raised in benediction and the left held a crosier, now gone, but marked by a broken ridge of stone along his left side and a fragment on his robes by his feet. Where the crook of the crosier overlapped the canopy there is some fragmentary evidence. The crosier may have crossed over the between the feet, but terminated closer to the right foot. The feet are now broken off, but a small beast once was underneath, as a tail or leg and claw survives on the north side. The folds of the drapery are varied in size and fall asymmetrically down the body. The chasuble has six main protrusions of cloth down the front, in much higher relief than the other undulations of cloth. The cloth hanging from the raised right arm is very subtle, unlike the bold ridge of stone as it is treated on Cat. 16 opposite. On his breast is an ephod or jeweled breastplate, and the ends of the stole have patterned indentations in the shape of a flower. History, identification and scholarship: The earliest mention of this tomb appears to be in the notes taken in 1634 by a member of a military company from Norwich: “Her [Rochester cathedral's] Monuments are but few, yet are they very ancient. Ffirst 2. bishops in blew marble, in their Pontifical Postures lye flanking either side of the High Alter; so ancient, as without Name, or Inscription, yet one of them is suppos'd / to be Bp Gundulphus.”250 Browne Willis in c.1711 made note of a bishop's effigy north of the altar that he thought was probably for 250

BL Lansdowne Ms 213, fols. 350b and 351.

454 Bishop Laurence de St Martin.251 The attribution of this northern effigy to St Martin was continued in publications in 1772 and beyond.252 Denne's plan of 1788 shows that the effigy was then in its current location.253 The fact that the effigy and base fit together nicely, and have not been cemented into place at the north side or either end, makes this an unusually intact survival at Rochester. It has been lifted up and placed on a modern plinth, but the ensemble has been kept entire.254 Antiquarian artists were captivated by the detail of this effigy, particularly of the canopy, and paid careful attention to its reproduction. Additionally, and quite unusually, each of these artists identified the tomb as belonging to Bishop Lawrence de St Martin. The earliest visual evidence comes from John Carter's sketches from a 1783 visit.255 His drawings are very particular, especially careful with details of the canopy. He shows that the feet were damaged by 1783, and his birds-eye view shows a crack across the neck, 251

252

253 254

255

History of Mitred Abbeys, vol. I, 287: “On the North side the Altar within the Rails are two very old Tombs of Bishops adorn'd with Mitres, lying at length upon Stone Chests in Representation of Stone Coffins, raised on Pedestals about a Foot from the Ground. These I take to have been erected for Bishop Gilbert de Glanvill, and Bishop Laurence de St. Martin.” Willis noted on p. 285 that he had visited Rochester around 1711 and his printed account derived from that visit. His printed account differs from his undated manuscript notes in the Bodleian Library, in which he recorded only one effigy on the north side; the other was on the south side as it is today (Bodl MS Willis 46, fol. 255). His identification in his notes of the material as freestone is curious. Perhaps it had been given a layer of paint/whitewash since the Norwich Lieutenant saw “blew marble” in 1634, possibly in 1742 during the renovations in the chancel (Denne, “Memorials,” 183). If Willis’s manuscript notes were taken after the renovations, this explains the discrepancy between them and his publication. Denne and Shrubsole (1772), 65; Denne, “Memorials,” plan and p. 192 (1788); Gough, Sepulchral Monuments, vol. I, p. 60 and pl. XXII* (1786). Denne, “Memorials,” plan. This most likely occurred at the restoration of the floor by George Gilbert Scott in 1873. See Crook, “Medieval Shrines,” 122, for nineteenth-century photos of the chancel once the floor had been removed. The tombs in the embrasures had been cleared out for the work. For more on the nineteenthcentury restorations, see D Holbrook, “Repair and Restoration of the Fabric since 1540,” Faith and Fabric: a History of Rochester Cathedral, 604-1994 (Woodbridge: The Boydell Press, 1996), 185-216. BL Add Ms 29925, fols. 244 (side view) and 245 (birds-eye view). Both of these views were drawn fair for Richard Gough and printed in his Sepulchral Monuments, vol. I, pl. XXII*. See Bodl Gough Maps 225, fol. 119, a side view, and fol. 122, a birds-eye view, “taken by standing on the statue,” signed and dated “JC sketchd 1783.” On the final engraved plate this tomb has been reversed. Artists Schnebbelie and Thomas Fisher were also at Rochester, in 1788 (Bodl. Gough Maps 227, fol. 212 and fol. 213, respectively, for their drawings of a different tomb).

455 some damaged foliage, and that the hand and crosier were then missing. It sat in the same location then as now, on the north side of the chancel, near the altar. A view taken by Blore in the first half of the nineteenth century shows the foliage more in evidence than it is today, but otherwise the damage Blore recorded is consistent with Carter's drawing and the current state of the effigy.256 An undated and unfinished birds-eye view of the effigy by G Cattermole corroborates the condition, identification, location, and the Purbeck material.257 In 1841 Hollis and Hollis published an engraved birds-eye view which is also consistent with what is seen today.258 The identification among antiquarian historians of the tomb to Lawrence de Saint Martin is supported by the medieval evidence, in a very unusual case of a consistent burial tradition. Medieval sources list on the north side of the high altar the burial of only one bishop, Lawrence de St. Martin: “sepultus est honorifice in basilica sedis sue juxta magnum altare a parte boriali.”259 There is another tomb on the north side of the chancel (the tomb chest with gabled roof commonly attributed to Bishop Glanville), but a second burial here is not mentioned in the manuscripts, the tomb is of too early a date to belong to Bishop Laurence, and there is some reason to believe the tomb has been subject to post-medieval rearrangement. The only other bishop of this period to be listed as being buried on the north side of the church is Bishop Walter de Merton, but the manuscripts

256 257 258 259

BL Add Ms 42011, fol. 29, a side view. Blore also identified it as Lawrence de St Martin, 1280. LSA, uncatalogued boxes arranged by county, “Sepulchral Monuments British Isles,” Kent. Hollis and Hollis, part V, June 1841, in which it is identified as Laurence de St Martin. BL Cotton Nero DII; his election fol. 161, consecration fol. 161b, and death on fol. 179b. See also Wharton, vol. I, 351, taken from Hadenham's Chronicle which ended in 1307. But, if Crook's suggestion of placement of shrines and altar in chancel is correct (Crook, “The Medieval Shrines,” where he proposed that the shrines were behind the altar, and the altar in same bay as the sedilia), then this effigy was north of the shrines rather than north of the high altar. It is curious that if this had been the case, the author of the medieval manuscript would not describe the tomb as such.

456 make clear that Merton was buried in the chapel of St William, which was further west of the chancel (see Cat. 65).260 Lawrence de St Martin is thus the most likely candidate for this tomb. Modern scholars agree with this unusually consistent identification. Nigel Saul, one of only two to publish solely on the medieval monuments at Rochester, says this effigy was “strongly influenced by Westminster work of the period,” and found that the details on the canopy are similar to the micro-architectural detail on the painted retable at Westminster (c.1260s). 261 He therefore concluded it was a product of a London, not a Corfe, workshop. He numbered it among the last in a series of highquality effigies such as are found at Ely (Cat. 4), York (Cat. 36), and Carlisle (Cat. 2).262 Saul and Tatton-Brown bring up the point that Bishop Lawrence must have been valued by his cathedral community as he oversaw the canonization of St William of Perth in 1256 and the construction of his shrine in the northeast transept.263 Of the two effigies in the chancel (see Cat. 16), the drapery treatment and interest in small-scale detail suggests this to be the earlier. Episcopal seals also help to confirm that this is the earlier of the two, as the c.1268 seal for Lawrence de St Martin, with its interlocking and asymmetrical folds, rounded in profile, suits better the asymmetrical vshaped drapery down the front of this effigy, than it does the later effigy's almost horizontal large rolls of cloth.264 The use of the diagonal pillow dates it to after c.1265. A likely date for the effigy would be sometime in the 1270s, but whether it was made 260 261 262 263

264

Wharton, vol. I, 352. Saul, “The Medieval Monuments,” 167-8; Tatton-Brown, “Burial Places,” 16-19. Saul, “The Medieval Monuments,” 167-8. Saul, “The Medieval Monuments,” 168; Tatton-Brown, “Burial Places,” 17. Saints Paulinus and Ithamar were already commemorated at the high altar. It is of note that he was described as buried near the high altar rather than the shrine of the saint whose canonization he oversaw. Birch, Catalogue of the Seals, no. 2151.

457 before or after the bishop's death in 1274 is not known. The small-scale detail on the canopy makes painting and/or gilding likely.

Cat. 16 Current location: south side of the chancel, second bay from east wall (opposite Cat. 15), east of the sedilia Identification: usually assigned to Bishop Thomas Ingelthorpe (d.1291) Measurements: Length of entire effigy, 222 cm. Width at west end, 75 cm; width at east end, 59 cm. Depth of canopy from base at its highest point, 26 cm; depth of effigy at its highest point (currently the ridge where the crosier was), approx. 20 cm. Height of rectangular slab, 13 cm; length of rectangular slab, 230 cm. Height of chest, 38 cm; length of chest, 217 cm. The rolls of fabric are at times as much as 3cm high. Major features: Unadorned coffin-shaped tomb chest with a Purbeck effigy, set against the south wall in between the piers of the chancel. The coffin, the thick rectangular slab, and the tapered effigy do not belong together but have been married here, and the whole has been cemented in against the south wall, and at the east and west ends next to the piers. The effigy is housed within a niche. The canopy above the head is in lower relief than Cat. 15 on the north side of the chapel, and much simpler and bolder in design. The canopy is faceted, with three angled sides, each gabled and topped with crockets and finials. The molding of the central opening around the head is trefoiled, and the gable above the central opening has head stops. Colonnettes on either side of the figure were

458 raised free from the slab, supported by foliage spurs, all of which are now broken off, though the concave sweep of leaves at the base of each spur survives. The capitals have ivy leaves rather than stiff leaf foliage. The figure's head rests on a diagonally placed pillow. The face survives in good condition. The eyes are open and the chin beardless. The hair frames the face in parallel ridges coming down onto his forehead and above the ears, straighter and tamer than the effigy opposite (Cat. 15). His left hand held a crosier, some of which still survives, carved with curved ridges around it that indicate a sudarium wrapped around it, with fringes at the bottom. The crosier ends between the feet and stabs the back of the head of a beast, which faces eastwards from between the bishop's feet. The crosier head, now broken, met the canopy at his left side. The drapery falls in broad, lumpy folds consisting primarily of three large ushaped ridges with subtle curving folds in between. Where the cloth falls from the folded arms, it is carved in high relief, though now broken off on the wall side. There are carved fringes on the stole, amice and alb. The lappets of the mitre are barely visible along his shoulders. There is no discernible difference in terms of level of detail between the wall side and altar side. History, identification and scholarship: It is clear from the physical evidence that the current ensemble of chest, thick slab, and effigy do not form an original ensemble. The dimensions of the tapered effigy fit better with the chest in the bay to the east than with this chest, and the effigy certainly does not fit the thick rectangular slab on which it is currently placed. Yet they have been

459 cemented here in place. As early as 1631, the damaged and ill-assembled state of the tombs at Rochester was noted (this is especially true for the non-effigial tombs).265 The effigy was located on the south of the chancel in 1635, when a visitor from Norwich recorded a “blew marble” effigy on either side of the altar.266 However, it is possible that the effigy was moved between 1635 and c.1711, because around 1711, Browne Willis printed that he saw both effigies on the north side of the high altar. On the south side next to the sedilia, where the effigy in question now rests, Willis recorded a “Chest, without any Effigies on it.”267 However, later in the eighteenth century the effigy was on the south side next to the sedilia. So said Willis himself in his (undated) manuscript notes, and so it was recorded by Denne in 1772 and Carter in 1783.268

265

266 267

268

Weever, 107, stated that all the monuments of any antiquity in the church had been “dismembered, and shamefully abused.” A visitor from Norwich in 1635 made a similar comment regarding the Rochester monuments, although he did not include this effigy in his censure: after noting some tombs, he dismissed “diverse others also of Antiquity, so dismembred, defac'd and abused as I was forced to leave them to some better discovery, then I was able to render of them” (BL Lansdowne Ms 213, fol. 351). For eighteenth-century descriptions, see Willis, History of Mitred Abbeys, vol. I, 288, and Denne and Shrubsole (1772), 62, where Willis’s assertion that the rearrangement and damage had occurred as a result of the Civil War was refuted and the suggestion was made that it took place during the Reformation. See also Buckler, who in 1822 noted that with few exceptions, “all the ... effigies and monuments have been displaced, and composed of discordant parts.” BL Lansdowne Ms 213, fols. 350b and 351. Willis, History of Mitred Abbeys, vol. I, 287: “On the South side opposite is another Bishop's Tomb, seemingly more ancient than the former, inclosed in a Chest, without any Effigies on it. This may probably have been for Bishop Gundulfus. Adjoyning to this Tomb stands the Confessionary” (actually the sedilia). It is possible that Willis simply mis-recorded the arrangement, particularly as his own manuscript notes differ from his published account, but the specificity of his comments make it more likely that the situation had changed between the time of his publication and the visit which gave rise to his manuscript notes. Willis's comments were not discussed by either Nigel Saul or Tim Tatton-Brown in their recent publications on the tombs at Rochester. Bodl. Ms Willis 46, fol. 255 is a hand-drawn plan, and the tomb in this location is marked and described as “a Bp his effigies in freestone (sic) prob Bp Inglethorpe.” On fol. 253, he wrote that this effigy could have been for either Inglethorpe or Bradfield. See also Denne and Shrubsole (1772), 65-6, and Denne, “Memorials,” no. 25 on the plan, and p. 196 for discussion. For Carter, see n.269. The chancel was repaved in 1742 or 1743, when alterations to the choir were carried out, and it is possible that this was the occasion for rearranging the tombs to the state in which Carter and Denne saw them (Denne and Shrubsole, 63 and 66-7; Denne, “Memorials,” 183). Apparently the cathedral was much in need of renovation: T Kerrich's notes, BL Add Ms 5842, fol. 123v, include a copy of a journal of a traveler, Mr. John Whaley, to Rochester in 1735, who found the cathedral “very old and mean.”

460 Carter provided the earliest known visual evidence.269 He labeled the tomb as Bishop Ingelthorpe’s, on the south side of choir near the altar. His drawing shows it much as it looks today, proving that the damage to the bottom of the effigy, the right hand and upper crosier, and the colonnette was there by 1783, although the foliate supports along the sides were still in evidence. However, Denne had described the effigy of this tomb in 1772 as “very perfect.”270 The base and slab Carter drew is exactly the base on which the effigy rests today. When the floor level was restored in 1873, it must have been replaced as Carter had seen it. Blore, in the first half of the nineteenth century, drew an uncharacteristically inaccurate view taken from the side.271 He correctly illustrated the broad folds of the maniple and sleeves at the side, the broken foliage, and the general forms of the canopy, but he omitted the mitre and showed the head stops on the canopy as lumps of masonry. He labeled it “probably Roger (sic) de Wendover, 1250,” but this tomb had been identified as Bishop Ingelthorpe's since at least 1772.272 The medieval sources clear up the question of attribution. Richard of Wendover was buried in Westminster, and on the south side of the high altar at Rochester was the burial of Bishop Inglethorpe: “fuit sepulture cum sollempnitate debita^ in eadem 269

270 271

272

BL Add Ms 29925, fols. 247 (side view) and 248 (birds-eye). Both of these views were copied for Richard Gough and printed by him in Sepulchral Monuments, vol. I, pl. XXII*. See also Carter's finished color wash in Bodl Gough Maps 225, fol. 119, signed “J Carter, sketch'd Sept 1783,” and fol. 123, a birds-eye view taken by standing on the statue. Denne and Shrubsole, 65. BL Add Ms 42011, fol. 8, dating to the first half of the nineteenth century. Blore's drawing makes the base look like ashlar, divided into five blocks of masonry. Denne and Shrubsole, 65-6; Denne, “Memorials,” plan and 195-6; and Gough, Sepulchral Monuments, vol. I, 202 and pl. XXII*. In Bodl. Ms Willis 46, fol. 255 (undated) the tomb in this location on the plan is marked and described as “a Bp his effigies in freestone (sic) prob Bp Inglethorpe.” But it should be noted that in Browne Willis's 1718 History of Mitred Abbeys, 288, he thought that Ingelthorpe's tomb was elsewhere: “At the Ascent up into the Choir under the great Tower are ten Steps, as there are eight other steps leading to the High Altar. Near these steps seems to have been an ancient demolish'd Monument of some Bishop, probably of Bishop Thomas de Inglethorpe.” The monument to which he was referring is probably that in the north aisle by the eight steps to St William’s chapel.

461 ecclesiae^ juxta magnum altare ex parte australi.”273 Bishop Ingelthorpe's burial is the only one noted in medieval documents as having been on the south side of the high altar. While there are now two other tombs on the south side of the chancel (a plain tomb chest and a tapered foliate slab of Purbeck), neither of these were in place in the early eighteenth century. An effigy, however, as noted above, was on the south side before 1635. Art historians continue to identify this effigy as Inglethorpe's. Stylistically it fits a date towards the end of the century. Gardner and Brieger place it in the same general category of effigies such as Bishop Wyle at Salisbury (d.1271; Cat. 21) and Archbishop Pecham at Canterbury (d.1291; Cat. 1).274 Nigel Saul suggested that if made after his death it could be the last effigy of the medieval period to have been carved from Purbeck; I would add that the effigy to Bishop Giffard (d.1301; Cat. 35) at Worcester is probably contemporary if not later than the Rochester effigy.275 Saul suggested that this Rochester effigy was the work of a London master, but much simpler in design and “coarser” than the effigy opposite in the chancel.276 The greater simplicity and boldness of form (particularly of the canopy and drapery) on this tomb might suggest a later date than its counterpart on the other side of the chancel. Both are, however, in terms of overall motif, 273

274

275 276

For Richard of Wendover, see BL Cotton Nero DII, fol. 161 and Wharton, vol. I, 350; for Ingelthorpe, Cotton Nero DII, fol. 184v and Wharton, vol. I, 353. This tomb, like that of Laurence de St Martin, is described in the medieval documents as being near the high altar rather than the shrine, which is problematic for Crook's suggestion in “The Medieval Shrines” that the shrines were in the same bay as the effigies, and the altar a bay to the west. A Gardner, 157 and 159, did note that Wyle's drapery had smoother, thinner overlapping folds, while the effigy at Rochester showed “great simplification in handling, but the broad smooth surfaces of the drapery were intentionally prepared in this way to allow for / surface decoration in gold and colour.” Brieger, 229, rather imprecisely places the two in the chancel at Rochester with the effigies of Wyle (Cat. 21) and of Archbishop Pecham at Canterbury (Cat. 1), from the 1270s or 1290s. Saul, “The Medieval Monuments,” 168. Ibid., 168.

462 canopy type, and massing, close enough in form generally—and curiously do not display great similarity to many other surviving effigies—to suggest that the carver of the later tomb was looking to the earlier one as a general guide. A date in the 1290s, and an identification as Ingelthorpe’s, is reasonable.

SALISBURY Salisbury Cathedral retains four effigies from the thirteenth century and two from the twelfth century, which were moved to the present church from the former cathedral at Old Sarum. Cat. 17 Current location: in the nave, on the plinth under the south arcade in bay 3 counting from west; the westernmost of the two effigies brought from Old Sarum Identification: unknown, probably Bishop Roger (d.1139) Measurements: Thickness of the slab, approx. 13 cm. Length of slab, approx. 219 cm (measured on the upper surface; at the base, length is approx. 226 cm). Length of effigy, 126 cm from shoulder to feet, not including the replaced head (the original head would have been an estimated additional 23 or 24 cm). Major features: Tapered Tournai slab carved with a low-relief effigy of a bishop surrounded by interlaced foliage. We have no knowledge of its original base or chest, but the edges of slab have a deep hollow chamfer, and therefore the slab would have stood somewhat proud of the floor even if the tomb chest was below floor level. The effigy does not take

463 up the entire slab's surface, but is surrounded by a raised flat border of approx. 2-3 cm in width decorated with an incised line approx. 2 cm from the edges. The figure is carved on a sunken ground, so that it does not reach a point much higher than its raised flat border, the figure very much still part of the block from which it is carved. The effigy is, within its sunken space, further surrounded by an elaborate inhabited border of interlaced foliage. Two vines arise from the top of the slab and each scrolls, more or less symmetrically, down the sides of the figure to the area below his feet. At the top of the slab the interlaced foliage includes four birds, two smaller ones in the center and two larger ones at the sides, pecking the ground just above the figure's head. At the sides of the figure, the vine sprouts pairs of large curled leaves, and twines around small birds. Below the figure's feet, slightly off-center, is a writhing, serpent-like beast, once carved in great detail. The hair on the beast is still visible at the sides of the otherwise worn raised relief. The sides and lower areas of the vines also reveal that the foliage had beaded detail and at intervals was linked together by rings. Carved feathers are visible in some areas, particularly on the two large birds across the top of the slab. The figure stands under a small and rudimentary canopy which is dominated by the foliate decoration. The arch of the canopy has been breached by the Purbeck bishop's head added at a later date, but it was probably a simple rounded arch with concave molding. A plain volute capital on the north side is still clearly visible. The figure stands on an unadorned plinth, under which writhes the beast. The bishop is vested in pontificals, and holds his right hand in front of his chest in a gesture of blessing. His left hand holds in front of his body a crosier with a simple

464 curled crook. His pose, with blessing hand held tightly against his chest and palm facing outwards, is awkward and unnaturally constricted. The garments, also kept close to the body and lacking any undulating folds, enhance the restricted attitude of the effigy. The chasuble is sharply pointed, with incised vertical lines down the front, intended either to indicate v-shaped folds or a surface pattern on the cloth. It folds over the figure's arms at the sides, like a tight cloak, and is embellished with scattered incised star motifs and a border of hatch marks arranged in alternating triangular shapes at the sides. The dalmatic has an incised u-shaped hem, the border of which is decorated with stripes and beads. A beaded pattern also adorns the hem of his alb and the ends of the stole. The slab remains in good condition, though with wear on the surface obscuring delicate carved details. The bishop's head was replaced by a larger one in Purbeck.277 One capital is missing. History, attribution and scholarship: This tomb is presumed to be one of those mentioned by William de Wauda in his early thirteenth-century account as having been brought from Old Sarum to the new cathedral site in 1226. The slab has no inscription, but can be narrowed down to one of the three Old Sarum bishops that de Wauda mentioned by name: Osmund (d.1099), Roger (d.1139), Jocelin (d.1184).278 De Waude makes clear that the three burials were

277

278

Spring, “Recent Discoveries,” 5, thought the head may have been replaced when they brought it to new Sarum, though Brown, Salisbury, 115 and 150, suggests it was a fourteenth-century replacement. Anderson, 86, arguing that this effigy belonged to Osmund, said the replaced head has stylistic affinities with Cat. 18 (which she argues was Bishop Jocelin's, d.1184), and may have been made at the same time. See more generally on the tombs at Salisbury, Spring, Salisbury Cathedral, New Bell's Cathedral Guides (London: Unwin Hyman, 1987), 111-38. Rich Jones, RSO, vol. II, 59, in 1220. Since de Wauda does not mention Bishop Herman (d.1078), it seems fair to assume that Herman was not moved to the new cathedral and most likely was not buried at Old Sarum.

465 placed in the Trinity Chapel, the only part to have been built by the time they were moved, although where exactly they were placed in the chapel is unknown. I venture to speculate an arrangement of three freestanding tombs in front of the altar with the base for Osmund's tomb in the center and the two slabs with effigies (this and Cat. 18) either side, as the north and south walls were possibly occupied by canons' stalls, and William de Longespee's tomb was already along the northern edge of the chapel.279 By the time of Leland's visit, c.1540, however, the effigies brought from Old Sarum had been moved from the eastern chapel to the nave, under the north arcade, where Leland saw them together.280 Why or when they were moved is not known. Sarah Brown wondered if they had been moved to make way for Osmund’s new shrine in the fifteenth century which is generally believed to have been in the center of the Trinity Chapel.281 By the early eighteenth century, plans of the cathedral show this and Cat. 18 in their current position in the nave on the south plinth.282 Shortt and Brown both speculated, probably correctly, that the move from north to south may have been due to

279

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281 282

Nigel Morgan, “Marian Liturgy in Salisbury Cathedral,” The Medieval Cathedral. Papers in Honour of Pamela Tudor-Craig, ed. J. Backhouse (Donington, 2003), 89-111, on stalls in the Trinity Chapel. Earl Longespee was put on the north plinth, and later thirteenth-century bishops were placed near the western end of the chapel. Leland, vol. I, 265: “in Bor. Insula navis Eccl, sepulchra duorum Episcoporum veteris, ut autamant, Sarum.” Shortt, 2, said their outline on the plinth could still be seen in 1971 in bay 15, where Wyatt placed the Tournai slab to Osmund (now in the Trinity Chapel) and where now is a reproduction brass. Spring, “Recent Discoveries,” unfortunately did not investigate below the plinth in this bay. Brown, Salisbury, 111. However, I find the evidence for the shrine's placement here inconclusive. The c.1734 plan in Lethieullier's collection, BL Add Ms 27349, fols. 44v-45, shows the two bishops in the south plinth, bay 3 from west. They are labeled as “two gravestones with the effigies of bishops, probably Herman and Herbert Poore,” brought from Old Sarum. BL Kings Top 43, fol 39f, ?pre-1745, shows them in the same place; they are numbered, but the corresponding entry on the key has been rubbed out. The tombs are drawn on the plan with effigies on them, facing east. A pre-1770 plan in Bodl Gough Maps 32 fol. 63v shows them on the south plinth, but does not assign names. Plans made after 1789, e.g. John Coney's plan for Dugdale, Monasticon, vol. VI, pt. 3, 1292, and Mackenzie's plan for Britton's Salisbury, in WANHS, volume S, fol. 1, make clear that the tombs remained in the south arcade. Mackenzie's plan, when printed, however, mistakenly showed the effigies facing west.

466 the installation of new seating in the nave in the seventeenth century.283 Spring, in his archaeological investigations in the plinth in 1979, found nothing underneath these effigies, so the bodies did not move with the effigies.284 Curiously, despite their presence on some eighteenth-century plans and the fact that Thomas Trotter drew one of the effigies in the late eighteenth century, neither Rawlinson nor Price (in 1723 and before 1753, respectively) noted the presence of the two older effigies in the cathedral. Nor did Carter, in his visit in 1781, sketch them or locate them on his manuscript plan, although he sketched other tombs.285 Scholars have debated the identification of this effigy since the eighteenth century. Both this and Cat. 18 have been caught up with problematic identifications of related tombs at Salisbury, e.g. the Purbeck shrine base with foramina, the plain Tournai slab with date carved on, and the supposed burial of bishop Roger in the niche in the north choir aisle. However, identification of this effigy usually alternates between Bishops Jocelin (d.1184) and Roger (d.1139). Gough published an engraved view, albeit ill-proportioned and lacking in much detail, and identified the tomb as belonging to Jocelin.286 Dodsworth, in 1792, printed the same identification.287 Trotter labeled the effigy as Jocelin's in his sketchbook.288 Britton,

283

284 285 286

287 288

Shortt, 2, says “about the end of the seventeenth century,” but Brown, Salisbury, 150, says they were probably moved to their present location c.1676-77, when the new seats in the nave were installed. Spring, “Recent Discoveries,” 5-6. For his plan, see BL Add Ms 29925, fol. 114. Gough, Sepulchral Monuments, fol. I, pl. IV, fig. 4. He may have drawn it himself; it certainly was not done by a professional draughtsman. But see in his text on p. 23, where he said the effigy belonged either to Herman or Jocelin. Dodsworth, A Guide to the Cathedral Church, 45. Thomas Trotter, vol. I, fol. 7, a birds-eye view watercolor labeled “joceline IV bishop of Sarum 1184.” Trotter did nothing to indicate that the head was of a slightly different style and stone. His details tend to be relatively accurate, but the use of modeling gives the figure more volume than it actually has. See

467 too, in 1814 followed Gough's identification. Planché, in 1859, said of the interlace ornament that it was “in the gorgeous style of early Anglo-Saxon sculpture,” but then went on to say that it was probably made for Jocelin, the later of the two bishops, without giving any particular reason other than that he attributed the other early effigy (Cat. 18) to Roger.289 However, confusion as to attribution is illustrated in the early nineteenth century by two printed plans of Salisbury: John Coney's plan labels the western one as Bishop Roger and the eastern one as Jocelin, while the plan by Mackenzie, made for Britton, labels the western one as Jocelin's and eastern one as representing Roger. Adding to the confusion is that Dodsworth reversed his opinion regarding identification in 1814.290 Stothard in 1817 attributed the effigy to Roger by stylistic analysis, perhaps the first to approach the two effigies in this way: “The effigy of Joceline Bishop of Salisbury [Cat. 18] is infinitely more relieved than that of Roger Bishop of the same see, which is far from possessing the bold relief we afterwards observe in the figure of King John.” He assumed a stylistic progression from low relief to high, and therefore believed the effigy in the lowest relief, surrounded by the interlace, belonged to the earliest of the two bishops.291 Modern scholars now mostly agree, with a few exceptions, in attributing the

289 290

291

also Trotter, volume O, fol. 86 for his sketch in pencil with a watercolor outline of the birdseye view. He labeled it “Bp Joscelyn” and recorded its measurements. Planché, 117-8. Coney, in Dugdale, Monasticon, vol. VI, pt. 3, 1292; Mackenzie in WANHS, volume S, fol. 1 and printed in Britton, Salisbury (1814), pl. I, pl. 1, text p. 89. Dodsworth, An Historical Account, 189-91. Stothard, 4, was the only artist to notice and replicate the tiny details of this effigy. He shows the monument in better condition, i.e. the surface is crisper, less worn, than that in which it survives today. It is unclear whether the wear occurred in following years (though doubtful-- on the plinth, the effigy is protected, but in the Trinity Chapel it might not have been so), or if he is transgressing his own stated standard of rendering the tombs in accurate current condition.

468 effigy to Roger, in large part because of stylistic analysis. Zarnecki and Schwartzbaum each saw a relationship between the Tournai slabs, all with different and unique imagery, at Ely, Salisbury, and Lincoln, and suggested that the familial relationship between Bishops Nigel, Roger, and Alexander at each of these churches, respectively, could be the common source for the three Tournai tombs. They both suggested a possible date in the late 1140s.292 Gardner suggested a date of c.1140, based on comparison with the Tournai slab at Ely, and attributed it to Roger.293 R.A. Stalley confirmed the attribution to Roger, establishing some formal links between the work promoted by Alexander and that by Roger, and also noting a similarity between the foliage on Alexander's doorways at Lincoln and on the Tournai effigy at Salisbury.294 While Zarnecki and Stalley both employed comparisons to other works that may have been commissioned by the three related bishops, Shortt and Bauch both drew the striking comparison between this effigy and that attributed to St. Memmius at Châlons-sur-Marne.295 Schwartzbaum examined the Tournai tomb slabs alongside the carvings at Tournai Cathedral. She retained the identification for Roger, but believed it to have been commissioned after his death by Alexander, shortly before Alexander's death in 1148.296 Sarah Brown, Tim TattonBrown, Kemp, Shortt, Bauch, and Saul all agree with this identification.297

292 293 294

295

296

297

Schwartzbaum, “Three Tournai Tombslabs,” 89-97; Zarnecki, Romanesque Lincoln, 95-6. A Gardner, 152-3. The Ely slab he dates to mid-century. R A Stalley, “A Twelfth-Century Patron of Architecture: A Study of the Buildings Erected by Roger, Bishop of Salisbury 1102-1139,” BAAJ (1971), 62-83, esp. 80. Shortt, 2 and his fig.1; Bauch, 36-7. Anderson, “Tournai Marble Tomb-slabs,” 87, also noted stylistic similarities between this effigy and two effigies of Mosan marble from Florennes, at Maredsous Abbey. She did not, however, illustrate these. Schwartzbaum, 89-97. Comparison to Tournai Cathedral is problematic as firm dates for its carved decoration are unknown, although she believes a date between c.1140 and the conventional c.1170 is likely. Brown, Salisbury, 115 and 150; Tatton-Brown, “Burial Places of St Osmund,” 20-21; Kemp, 16; Shortt,

469 Rich Jones and Malden, however, believed that Roger's tomb was elsewhere and that it did not have an effigy.298 Spring also opposed the attribution to Roger, stating that Roger had been a wealthy bishop, but had died in political disgrace, so “it is unlikely that an effigy would have been provided for some time after his death, if at all.”299 He suggested instead that it belonged to Jocelin. Freda Anderson offered an alternate point of view: that the Tournai effigy was made for Bishop Osmund's tomb and was made to supersede the plain, flat Tournai slab now marking the supposed site of Osmund's shrine, which may have been deemed unworthy. Her theory is in part based on the replacement of the bishop's head, which she suggests was made necessary by damage inflicted on the slab by its pilgrim visitors, or else was a desirable upgrade to make the saint's burial more visibly prominent.300 My own supposition is that the Tournai stone belongs to Bishop Roger. Tournai stone was replaced by the more easily available Purbeck stone, in architecture and in funerary monuments, from the 1150s, so from this point of view attributing the Tournai effigy to the older of the pair makes sense. The attribution to Roger is further supported by Bishop Roger's familial relationships to Bishop Nigel of Ely and Bishop Alexander of

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2; Bauch, 36; Saul, English Church Monuments, 29. On p. 150, Brown mistakenly says this effigy is Purbeck, not Tournai. Rich Jones, RSO, vol. II, lii, citing an early eighteenth-century plan, where “it is distinctly said that Roger's monumental slab was a plain stone with a cross, and it is marked as lying underneath a shallow recess in the wall in the north-east part of the cathedral.” Dr Milner found, apparently, a manuscript note to a 1615 edition of Godwin, “In the body of the church under the third arch from the tomb of bishop Roger was the altar called de missa matutinali where the early private service was performed.” Rich Jones said, “This, it has been conjectured, was the first of the eastern chapels in the north-east transept.” Malden, 340-41, essentially sidestepped identifying this effigy by rejecting the attribution to Roger, but then not mentioning the effigy again. Spring, “Recent Discoveries,” 6, suggests instead Jocelin. Anderson, “Tournai Marble Tomb-slabs,” 85-9: “we know from early miracle stories that the [Osmund's] slab was placed on the pavement and treated both by pilgrims and clergy in a manner that might harm it.” For the miracle stories, see WJ Torrance, The Story of St Osmund Bishop of Salisbury (1978), 48-52.

470 Lincoln, both of whom also are suspected to have had Tournai monuments, as others have pointed out. Stylistic analysis also supports the attribution. The interlace design of the Tournai slab has some motifs in common with, for example, the tympanum of the doorway at Kilpeck church, Herefs. (c.1140), namely the beaded motif in the vine scroll, and the rings around each bunch of stems before they branch out into multiple heads. Most believe the effigy was made abroad and imported. Anderson noted that on the figure, the “use of hatching shows an awareness of Flemish techniques and the ability to adapt them. The star-shaped motif on the chasuble cannot easily be found elsewhere.”301 Shortt stated that the similarity of the effigy to the Tournai tomb at Châlons-sur-Marne is so striking that both had to have been carved in Tournai, even perhaps in the same workshop.302

Cat. 18 Current location: in the nave, on the plinth under the south arcade in bay 3 counting from west; the easternmost of the two effigies brought from Old Sarum Identification: unknown, probably Bishop Jocelin (d.1184) Measurements: Length of slab, 205 cm; the figure takes up the whole slab. Width at head, 76 cm; width at feet, 58 cm. The thickness of the entire slab is about 16 cm, including the relief sculpture. Major features: Slightly tapered Purbeck slab with an effigy in low relief, the slab now separated

301 302

Anderson, “Tournai Marble Tomb-slabs,” 86. Shortt, 2; Schwartzbaum, n.17.

471 from its coffin. The figure of the bishop fills most of the surface of the slab, with no room left for additional decorative motifs save at the top, where is seen a low-relief, simple rounded arch, and at the bottom, which has only a plain flat plinth. Even these minimal features are dominated by the effigy, since the feet overlap their support, and the mitre overlaps the arch, which is in addition carved in much lower relief than the head. In the small spandrels above the arch were once some additional carvings, perhaps angels or birds, though these are damaged beyond recognition. This monument is unusual in its simplicity, its smooth, broad surfaces, and its rejection of the use of foliage, animals, and to some degree architectural details. The figure is in low relief, with sloping shoulders and the garments spreading wide in a bell-shape at his feet. His head and mitre are narrow and elongated. His pose contributes to the impression of a low, broad body, with both arms raised out to the sides of the torso. These are damaged, but presumably the right hand was held in blessing, and the left held the crosier, the remnants of which run along the left side of the figure and meet the canopy near the top of the slab. The face is damaged, but a slight beard of a few incised lines is visible. The features of his face are also linear in detail, for example, the long, straight nose and the nasal-labial creases. The body rises gently away from the slab. The volume of the legs is indicated by a slight rise in relief, but the curve of the stomach and hips is hinted at not through relative depth of the stone but through incised demicircles. Similarly, folds in the drapery are rendered with incised lines rather than with undulating ridges of stone. The chasuble is extremely long, and barely enlivened by a series of u-shaped gently curving lines. Incised lines define the ophrey at the front of the

472 chasuble, and the apparel at his chest. These details are the sole indication of the bishop's richly embroidered mass vestments. It is also the first time a carved apparel appears on the chest/shoulders of a Purbeck effigy. While this effigy finds no easy comparison among surviving effigies in England, and indeed contrasts strongly with the Tournai effigy next to which it sits (Cat. 17), an unidentified and undated Purbeck bishop's effigy now at Lisieux Cathedral resembles the Salisbury bishop strongly in overall character and its approach to figure representation. The effigy features a rare surviving motif at this early date: an inscription, which is incised along all four vertical edges of the slab, along the orphrey, and (no longer legible) along the borders of the chasuble. The inscription, however, does not include a name, and its description of the deceased bishop to which it refers can be—and has been—variously interpreted.303 The fact that the inscription went around all four sides suggests that the effigy was originally freestanding, and if not on a raised coffin, was at least somewhat raised above floor level. The effigy has suffered some damage. There is a crack across the entire slab at knee-level, and much surface damage along the sides of the slab and around the head. Unusually, the lower areas of the slab are in worse condition than the surfaces in higher relief. The front of the effigy itself, for example, survives very well, while the ground on which it lies is badly decayed. History, attribution and scholarship: This effigy most likely belongs to one of the three burials moved from Old Sarum into the Trinity Chapel and then into the nave, as described in Cat. 17. When placed 303

The inscription has been printed a number of times. Shortt stated the lettering is twelfth-century.

473 under the south arcade, it was partially sunken into the plinth. Gough explained that he caused the effigy to be raised up in 1770 so that the inscription around the edges of the slab would be visible.304 He may have been the first to notice this inscription; certainly Leland, who recorded the more visible lettering on the chasuble, did not make note of any lettering on the side. Gough was the first to publish an analysis and engraving of the tomb. Other early images of the effigy can be found in Britton and Stothard.305 Despite the presence of an inscription, identification is not certain. The inscription as it survives does not give a name, and the text is ambiguous enough that arguments have been made for attribution to bishops Osmund, Roger, or Jocelin. Gough, Britton, and Planché believed this effigy must belong to Roger, largely because they found allusions to aspects of Roger's life in the inscription.306 Britton believed that the sculptural style of this effigy was older than that in Cat. 17, and so assigned it to the earlier of the two bishops. Planché further supported the assertion of a date c.1139 by adding that the episcopal garments are “in perfect accordance with other monuments and drawings of the time” (except the mitre, which he says is unusual for any figure of the twelfth century), and that “the character of the sculpture is quite early enough to support the opinion...”. The same evidence, namely the inscription and sculptural style, has led others to 304

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Gough, Sepulchral Monuments, vol. I, 20-23: “the inscription on the pall is given by that industrious antiquary [Leland], and it is probable that round the edge was never raised above the pavement, till I procured it to be raised 1770, and the pavement disposed round it in such a manner that it can in future receive no injury nor escape the notice of the curious.” For Leland, vol. I, 265. Gough, “Conjectures on an antient tomb in Salisbury cathedral,” 1773; idem, Sepulchral Monuments, vol. I, pl. 4, fig. 1; Stothard (1817); Britton, Salisbury (1814), 89-90 and pl. 1. Planché, 115-7; Britton, Salisbury, 89-90; Gough, Sepulchral Monuments, vol. I, 20-23, where he reaffirmed his earlier conclusions in opposition to a different interpretation put forth to him by a Mr Barton. Britton pointed out the additional illegible lettering around the borders of the chasuble, which Gough apparently missed.

474 assign the effigy to Jocelin. Dodsworth seems to have been the first to do this in print, based on a comparison between the effigy and Bishop Jocelin's seal.307 He was followed by Stothard, Rich Jones, Malden, and, more recently, Kemp, Shortt, Tatton-Brown, and Anderson.308 Malden and Shortt believed the reference to noble birth in the inscription suited Jocelin more than the other candidates. Shortt and Anderson pointed out that the reference to three predecessors, i.e. Osmund, Roger, and Herman, makes Jocelin the best choice. Gough and Malden both allowed the possibility that the inscription might instead refer to Bishop Osmund. Raby and Stroud both published arguments supporting this theory, both based on the inscription.309 Spring agreed with Raby and Stroud, believing that such a respected bishop would not have had a plain tomb, and that the inscription describes a man well-born and respected by all.310 An attribution to Osmund could only work if the effigy was made retrospectively, as Stroud and Brown suggest. Stroud suggested it may have been made in the second half of the twelfth century, towards the end of the century, in order to promote the see and the bishop's canonization. Brown suggested it may have been made for Osmund by Roger, i.e. before 1139.311 If for Osmund, the effigy might have fitted onto the extant shrine base with foramina. Tatton-Brown argues, however, that if this had been so, there would be 307

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310 311

Dodsworth, An Historical Account, 189-91 and accompanying plate. This marked a change from his earlier 1792 publication, in which he stated it belonged to Roger. Britton, Salisbury, 90, disagreed with Dodsworth regarding the similarities to the seal, but the likeness is quite striking. Jocelin had retired in 1176 and spent his last years in a Cistercian monastery (Rich Jones, RSO, vol. II, p. lxxiii-lxxvi). Stothard; Rich Jones, RSO, vol. II, lxxiv-v; Malden, 341; Kemp, 16-19; Shortt, 3-6; Tatton-Brown, “Burial Places of St Osmund,” 20-21; Anderson, “Tournai Marble Tomb-slabs,” 86. Raby, 146-7. His poetry argument is refuted by Shortt, but then see Stroud, “A 12th-Century Effigy,” where she opposes Shortt's opinion. Spring, “Recent Discoveries,” 6. Stroud, “A 12th-Century Effigy”; idem, “Cult and Tombs of St Osmund,” 50-54; Brown, Salisbury, 115.

475 evidence of fixings for the effigy on the base.312 Stylistic analysis has generally favored the attribution to Bishop Jocelin. On this basis, Prior and Gardner had decided as early as 1912 that this effigy belonged to Jocelin. Gardner, later, noted that the “style is ruder and more experimental, the lines of the vestments being simply incised, but the relief is higher [than Cat. 17] and it shows more promise than the sophisticated tradition of the Flemish [Tournai] workers”; as a result Gardner dated it to c.1184.313 Stone dated it to c.1170, while Drury suggested c.1186, and Bauch (although not based on personal observation), 1180-90. Most recently, Saul assigned an 1180s date to the monument.314 Shortt saw the importance of this effigy's early date; besides the effigy of Clement (Cat. 55), Shortt thought the effigy was “probably the first English portrait of a prelate to be placed on his tomb.”315 The fulllength figure, in the way that it fills the slab and is carved in higher relief, has features that would become standard on monuments in the thirteenth century. In addition, Jocelin's seal (Fig. 12) looks a great deal like the effigy, with wide arms, the same kind of chasuble, same shape chasuble, in the same flat treatment and incised lines for the borders and orphrey.316 It is possible that, in the early days of effigy carving in England, the seal was used as a model for the stone carvers to follow.

312 313 314

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Tatton-Brown, “Burial Places of St Osmund,” 21. Prior and Gardner, 572-574; A Gardner, 153-47. Stone, 104; Drury, “Use of Purbeck,” 77 and pl. XI; Bauch, 82-3; Saul, English Church Monuments, 29-31. Shortt, 3. He did not mention the Purbeck effigy at Exeter (Cat. 6) however. This is printed in EEA 18, Salisbury, plate VII. Dodsworth, An Historical Account, 189-91, published an engraving of the seal and pointed out its similarities in 1814.

476 Cat. 19 Current location: in the easternmost bay of the choir (bay 6 from east end), under the north arcade (north of the present high altar). Identification: Bishop Bingham (1229-1246) Measurements: Length of slab 220 cm, length of figure approx. 190 cm. Width at head approx. 80 cm; width at foot approx. 60. Depth of canopy from slab approx. 30 cm, and head is a bit lower than the canopy. Major features: Tapered Purbeck effigy and slab now within a nineteenth century architectural surround. The effigy is extremely closed and self-contained; the body is encased in a close-fitting surrounding niche, his gestures do not extend beyond the outline of the body, and no features are carved in the round. His body rises from the slab in a consistent, gentle arc, not changing shape to allow for undulation of legs or swelling of abdomen. The right hand, in a gesture of blessing, is held tightly in front of his chest and his left hand grasps his crosier in front of his hip, a pose typical of effigies of early date. Curving over the head of the effigy is a cinquefoiled canopy. At the apex of the canopy is a small gabled tabernacle enclosing the bust of an angel, in low relief, holding a sun and crescent moon. The tip of the gable has a small hole. On a plane closer to the slab, on either side of the curved canopy, are multi-tiered turrets or pinnacles. The niche rests on a pair of engaged colonnettes, one each side of the bishop, with unremarkable foliate capitals at the tops and ball-stops at the bases. The north, south and west edges of the slab are chamfered and decorated with a band of foliage. This border features a

477 repeating pattern of a single foliate spray, comprised of two fleshy stems curling in opposite directions and ending in three succulent lobes. The foliage of the border stands in bold relief from the slab, and is the most sharply undercut feature of the slab. At the bishop's feet is a beast, arranged so that he faces south, and whose curving knobby spine is visible from the top of his head to his long curly tail. The crosier tip touches the animal's back in between the bishop's feet. The crook of the crosier survives to the left of the bishop's head. His mitre is plain. The only hair visible is clustered around his large ears. His eyes are open. He wears a full mustache and beard, which is formed of long ridges ending in a tight curl. The surface of the drapery is rendered in a multitude of tidy, delicate ripples, rising only in low relief from the mass of the figure. The folds of the chasuble are nested and evenly patterned, interlacing in the center in tiny hairpin loops. The same type of nested low relief folds shape the fabric under the arms. The rear portion of the chasuble is visible, folded over the bent arms and hence lifted around the sides of the body. The sides of the front portion of the chasuble hang below the arms in overlapping folds. The lower garments fall in a multitude of parallel, narrow fluted folds down to the feet, where the hemline is also correspondingly detailed. These fluted folds are angular and have sharp, crisp edges; the folds on the chasuble are similarly sharp in profile, despite their soft gentle curves when seen from above. There is some damage to the very upper edge of the canopy. The bishop has no nose, and one finger is broken. The lower portion of the crosier is broken (below the knees), and there is some damage around the crosier head where it meets the canopy, as if

478 it collapsed once and has been repaired. A metal rod now supports it above the pillow. Otherwise, the surface is very smooth and intact. There is no surviving evidence of paint. History, identification and scholarship: The literature surrounding this effigy has been bedeviled by consistent misappropriations to Bishop Richard Poore, who was in part responsible for building the present cathedral and was thought by tradition to have been buried on the north side of the altar, the location of this tomb at least by 1734. It has since been moved twice and its architectural surround replaced, due to post-medieval alterations in the cathedral. Early post-medieval writers completely passed over a tomb in this location. Leland, for example, mentioned the adjacent tombs of Audley and Mortival on the north side of the choir, and a tomb in the north aisle attributed to Bishop Wytte (for which, see Cat. 66), but reported nothing in this bay, and no monuments at all attributed to Bingham or Poore.317 Leland did, however, copy text from an epitaph dedicated to Richard Poore which he saw in the Lady Chapel. The tablet explicitly stated that Poore's heart was buried at Tarrant Dorset, but his body in Durham, to which church he was translated from Salisbury. Neither Lt Hammond in 1635 nor Richard Symonds in 1644 made note of the tomb, nor is it mentioned in Cosmo III's writings, though he noted Bishop Poore as being the founder.318 This omission of a monument that was so prominently placed suggests three possibilities: at that time, they did not know to whom the monument belonged and 317

318

Leland, vol. I, 262-4. He did not record a tomb in this place visible from the altar or the north choir aisle. Symonds, 129-40, gave a detailed description of the Trinity Chapel, but in the north aisle, he only mentioned tombs for Drs Bennet and Sydenham. From within the choir, he noted the tomb of Bishop Audley, on the north side, but not this effigy. Lt Hammond, BL Ms Lansdowne 213, 1635, fols. 370-2, gave a detailed description of the monuments in the Trinity Chapel and the south choir aisle, but in the north choir aisle only mentioned the chapel to Audley. Cosmo's list, Travels of Cosmo the Third, ed. Magalotti (London, 1821), 151-5, is less exhaustive than the others; he merely mentioned highlights.

479 so passed over it in silence; it was not visible to visitors who would see the tomb from the aisle; or it was not there at that time. The first written mention of this tomb occurs by c.1734, and this is also the first instance of the tradition of associating this tomb with Poore. Lethieullier, c.1734, collected an unsigned drawing of the effigy under an arch, on which was a note identifying the monument as a cenotaph for Richard Poore who was buried at Durham.319 The effigy depicted is almost certainly that now located on the north side of the altar, and his 1735 plan corroborates this by showing a monument on the north side of the altar labeled to Bishop Poore.320 Therefore, at least by c.1734, this monument was placed where it stands today. The drawing is difficult to interpret. The view is taken from the south side, near the altar. A beast, in this instance drawn as a dog, looks towards the south under the bishop's feet. The effigy has a canopy over his head (though not mirroring exactly the canopy that exists), with side colonnettes, and the distinctive foliate carving in a continuous row along the edge of the slab. The effigy is placed within a much larger architectural niche formed of a single pointed arched opening, surrounded by a solid ashlar masonry wall, shown here with a straight horizontal border across the top like a string course. The niche is unlike anything that survives in the cathedral today.321

319

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BL Add Ms 27349, fol. 50. The sketch is possibly the work of artist Charles Frederick, who signed other sketches made for Lethieullier. A note on fol. 51, accompanying Lethieullier's copy of the inscription on the tablet to Poore taken from Leland, repeats “this cenotaph was placed here in memory of the first founder of this noble Fabrick thro [sic] his bones rest at Durham.” The tablet Leland saw is “now taken away.” BL Add Ms 27349, fols. 44v-45. The niche is shaped very much like the niche in bay 4 of the north aisle, although this has no tracery. I have considered the possibility that the effigy was once in this bay in this niche and that the tracery was later removed. However, on fol. 47 is a drawing of the niche in bay 4, in which is clearly shown the Purbeck slab with raised relief cross that is currently in that position. The monument is identified on the sketch as Bishop Roger's.

480 Within the upper part of the arched opening, there appears to be openwork tracery of three pendant gables separated by pendant pinnacles. This drawing was engraved by Basire and reproduced in Gough's Sepulchral Monuments.322 The monument, attributed to Poore each time, is plotted in this location on each of the eighteenth-century plans.323 The plans show the monument as an effigy centered in the bay and flanked at head and foot by two solid blocks of masonry filling in the gaps between the effigy and the arcade piers. Drawings of the north side of the monument made in the 1780s reveal a completely different architectural surround than that depicted in the 1734 view of the south side among Lethieullier's papers. On the north side, instead of a single arch divided by inserted openwork tracery, the masonry surround was punctuated by three 'bays' of pointed arches supported by columns with rounded capitals. Each arch had an inner cinquefoiled molding. Under the pointed arches was a lowered ceiling, identified as a wooden deal 'box' by John Carter, who noted that the capitals and interior ribs of the monument were destroyed and replaced by the wood. How this damage occurred and when this unsightly solution was decided upon is unclear. The effigy fits nicely within the three open 'bays', but the plinth and roof are shown extending beyond these, filling the whole space between the arcade piers. The drawings hint at additional pointed arches going off to the east and west, as if arches once continued on either side of the three

322 323

Gough, Sepulchral Monuments, vol. I, pl. XII. BL Kings Top 43, fol. 39f; John Carter's 1781 plan, BL Add Ms 29925, fol. 114; WANHS, vol. K, fol. 11, where this plan must have been drawn just when the monuments were being moved, or just after, as it has details of what was dug up where; Browne Willis's undated plan, Bodl Ms Willis 46, fol 256v and 257. Only the pre-1770s plan in Bodl Gough Maps 32, fol. 63v, is an exception, as the key is left blank.

481 'bays' as a blind arcade but were then damaged.324 The roof capping the entire monument is constructed of rows of stone that approximate rows of roof tiles. Two sources indicate that gilding was visible on the effigy at this time, possibly recently done. 325 Given that Carter's drawings tend to be quite accurate, the supposition is that either the earlier sketch collected by Lethieullier was wildly incorrect, or that the monument was different on each side. Whatever the case, the monument had clearly suffered by the time that Carter saw it, with its broken arches and the replacement of the interior ribbed vaults with a lowered wooden ceiling. Gough recorded that its destruction was imminent.326 All of the architectural surround was discarded c.1789 when the effigy was moved to St Catherine’s chapel in the northeast transept and placed on a new base. The

324

325

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Carter drew the tomb when he visited in 1781: BL Add Ms 29925, fol. 119, published in Roberts, “Bridport,” 561. Roberts also published the woodcut based on this drawing printed in Milner's 1798 Dissertation, frontispiece. The woodcut omitted the wooden lowered ceiling, and changed the angle of view slightly, as well as the proportions of the arcaded openings. The note at the bottom says “View of the monument of Bp Poore (erected 1237) on the north side of the high altar of Salisbury cathedral. Sktch’d from the north side of the choir, as it appeared in 1781. The groins of the monument were then destroyed and the upper part of it, from the capitals to the top of the arches filled in with boards. In this view the groins are supplied.” Gough, Sepulchral Monuments, vol. I, Plate XIII, fig. 3, published an engraving of the north side of the tomb from a view drawn by Carter. In Gough's collection of papers in the Bodleian, there are several drawings of this monument, shown each time with the triple arched opening and lowered ceiling: see Bodl Gough Maps 224 fol. 404, a small side view of the whole monument; and Gough Maps 225, fol. 95, a watercolor sketch of the north side, with “wooden box” written on the lowered ceiling. See also WANHS, vol. K, fol. 42, a detailed pencil sketch of a birds-eye view of the effigy, and a side view of it within the triple arched canopy. There is no signature, but in the catalogue the drawing is tentatively ascribed to Schnebbelie, 1788. Blore, BL Add Ms 42012, fol. 6, showed the same view, but without the wooden ceiling. It is possible that Blore copied Carter's fanciful view published by Milner, because Blore was at Salisbury after Wyatt's changes: see n.331 below. All of these views depict the extended but broken blind arcade. Bodl Gough Maps 224, fol. 403, a finished and quite accurate birds-eye view of the effigy. In pencil, Gough has written to the side “purbeck gilt.” The drawing in WAHNS, vol. K, fol. 42 has a note in pencil, but the crucial word is questionable: “Bishop Poor—died 1237—1 inch to a foot- Polished Purbeck—[one? Nue? No? Now? some? most likely 'new' ] gilt.” Gough, Sepulchral Monuments, vol. I, 43: the effigy lies “under a canopy of three arches, whose fine flowered stone roof has been supplied by a plain ceiling of rough deal.” Inserted here is handwritten note, sadly partly illegible: 'and the pillars on the S side [??] taken away on [as??] the whole is to be shortly to our [cut ??] place. His skeleton is said to be intire under the tomb'.

482 removal of the monument allowed for the east end of the presbytery to be opened out into the retrochoir, a scheme carried out by James Wyatt, and its new position balanced the Bridport monument which was opposite in the southeast transept. The monument was placed against the south screen of the chapel, next to the north choir aisle. Several drawings show the monument in its new location. John Carter showed it on a new base, formed of lozenges alternating with vertical panels, and lettering around the bottom.327 Thomas Trotter’s drawing shows the new base differing slightly in details and without writing on the plinth.328 Sketches made for Britton by Mackenzie illustrate the tomb squeezed in between the pier and the aumbry.329 J Barter’s sketch of the tomb in this position has notes, very faint, but perhaps: “blue marble—on altar tomb lower pt not orig on ba[se?] pt letters[?] almost oblitd.”330 Blore's drawing of the monument showed it in its new position, but on a plain base.331 The monument remained in the northeast transept till at least 1859, when JR Planché described it there.332 Scott, c.1865, moved the effigy back to its original position under a newly constructed canopy; the effigy is not however 327

328

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BL Add Ms 29939, fol. 52, during Carter's post-Wyatt (c.1802) visit. His view depicts the northwest corner as broken off, curious for a newly built monument. See also ibid., fol. 53, for a birds-eye view of the effigy. Carter's post-Wyatt plan in BL Add Ms 29943, fol. 240, shows two tombs in the south side of the morning chapel. WANHS, vol. I, fol. 8, labeled “Richard Poore, VII bishop of Sarum, founder of present cathedral.” The effigy is shown from the north side, slightly tipped. WAHNS, vol. S, fol. 21. The sketch is labeled “The Founder. Removed from the North wall of old altar—fig in Pbeck Marble.” Mackenzie has drawn it next to the pillar in the northeast transept, with the brasses of Bishops Wyville and Guest on the floor at the entrance. The drawing is much clearer than the engraving (Britton, Salisbury, pl. XI), in which the effigy is barely recognizable. Mackenzie clearly and correctly illustrated the head canopy, the row of foliage at the edges of the slab, and the strong drapery lines, none of which are correctly conveyed in the engraving. Fol. 22 has various details, one of which is the effigy's canopy and the foliage around the base. Fol. 24v is a series of 3 niches with 6 crockets and underneath the note “Poore’s mont Salisbury cath.” This has no date. LSA, uncatalogued boxes arranged by county, “Sepulchral Monuments British Isles,” Wiltshire, an undated frontal view of the effigy and several details. The tomb is labeled Herbert le Poor. It is curious that the letters would already be obliterated, unless the new base consisted of reused parts from a destroyed monument. BL Add Ms 42011, fol. 3. Planché, 119-20.

483 centered as it was originally. The effigy here under consideration in bay 5 usually was attributed to Bishop Poore, despite evidence that he was buried elsewhere.333 The theory put forth by Lethieullier that the monument was a cenotaph to Poore was laid to rest when the monument was moved and a burial was found underneath.334 Canon Rich Jones and JR Planché, faced with the evidence of the skeleton and the strong probability of Poore's burial elsewhere, seem to have been among the first to suggest that the effigy belonged to Bingham.335 Bishop Bingham is said to have been buried on the north side of altar, but to Bingham was frequently assigned a tomb in bay 7, where the medieval high altar may have been located.336 The monuments in bay 7, however, date to the fourteenth century. The traditional attribution of this effigy to Poore continued into the twentieth century, but more recent scholars, using stylistic analysis, suggest a date in the 1230s or 1240s, and confirm the attribution to Bingham. 337 Features that particularly suggest these dates include the gently looping drapery and the contained stance, with arms held in front of 333

334

335 336

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Richard Poore is mentioned in the itinerary, taken 1478-1480, of William of Worcestre, 51: “1220: Richard [Poore] Bishop of Salisbury founded the cathedral church of St Mary on St Vitalis's day in April [28th], and died on 15 April [1237]; he lies in Tarrant Abbey.” William, 53, cites a martyrology of the Friary of St Francis in Salisbury, among which is listed “Blessed Richard, Bp of Salisbury, who founded the cathedral church of Salisbury, lies at Tarrant Abbey by Dorchester.” Such a local source at such an early date seems reliable. This evidence counters the tablet that Leland copied, which stated that his body was divided between Tarrant Abbey and Durham. There is no evidence of Poore's burial at Durham, despite the fact that he held that see when he died. See for example the undated pre-Wyatt plan, WANHS, vol. K, fol. 11, showing the tomb in bay 5 for Bishop Poore, written in ink, but in pencil next to it is “Bones found under fig.” Planché, 119; Rich Jones, RSO, vol. II, cxxx-cxxxi; idem, Fasti, 50. Rich Jones, Fasti, 50 and 88. Other tombs were also attributed to Bingham, e.g. BL Add Ms 27349, fol. 52, a 1734 drawing of the Ghent tomb on the south side of bay 7, labeled to Bingham. In BL Kings Top 43, fol 39f, the name of Bingham is also assigned to the tomb on the south side of bay 7. But by the 1770s, Gough Maps 32, fol. 63v, Bingham is given the tomb on the north side of bay 7, now known as Mortival's. See also the 1774 edition of Price, 139, and Carter's 1781 plan, BL Add Ms 29925, fol. 114. See e.g. Malden, 343, for a late (1912) attribution to Poore. More recently, see the argument in Roberts, “Bridport.” Brown, Salisbury, 118, suggests a comparison with the Sarum Master's work in the Paris Apocalypse, c.1245.

484 the body, as well as advances in the loose falling of the cloth below the arms.

Cat. 20 Location: in between the south choir aisle and eastern chapel in the southeast transept Identification: Giles de Bridport (d.1262) Measurements: Length of slab 236 cm; length of figure approx. 188 cm. Width of slab at foot, 63 cm; width at head, 95 cm. Major features: Tapered Purbeck effigy and tomb chest freestanding on the plinth, enclosed by a two-bay architectural surround in Purbeck and freestone. The architectural surround, almost a building in itself, is a gabled structure of primarily Chilmark stone, and is unlike any other surviving English canopied tomb. The interior 2-bay vault has ribs carved onto the blocks of stone. The long sides are divided into two bays; each bay has a pointed arch featuring openwork tracery (in Purbeck on the north side), through which the bishop's effigy and tomb chest can be seen. The tops of these arches are treated with hood molding and head stops, and a gabled drip molding ending in swirling fantastical beasts. Scenes apparently from the bishop's life are carved in low relief in the spandrels. The columns along the north and south sides of the monument are Purbeck marble, with rounded capitals and bases. The shorter ends of the canopy are walls of solid ashlar masonry, and the stone roof is carved to look as if covered with roof tiles. The Purbeck slab with effigy is more conventional than the architectural surround; however, in many ways, it is more pared down than its predecessors. Like Cats.

485 2, 4, 12 and 36 from the 1250s, the effigy is carved in the same stance, arms raised away from the slab, the blessing right hand carved in the round and the left hand holding a crosier which extends down the left side of the body and crosses the left foot. Around the bishop's head is a gabled canopy with inner cinquefoiled arch. The canopy is topped with miniature buildings, including crenelated towers at each side of the gable, and a crenelated parapet along the top of the slab. The surface ornament on these buildings harks back to earlier effigies (Cats. 48, 49, Fig. 6), with for example incised lines indicating ashlar masonry at the base of the towers. Angels holding thuribles and containers of incense swoop down on either side of the towers towards the bishop's head. The rest of the slab is cleaner and simpler than effigies carved in the previous two decades. There are no raised colonnettes extending the length of the figure, only a roll molding along the sides of the body as a vestige of the form. There are no great clusters of foliage carved in deep relief, the only foliage on the slab being a few tiny stylized crockets on the gable. Most foliage on the monument appears on the two-bay architectural superstructure. The edges of the slab are decorated with multiple layers of simple roll molding. The slab at the bishop's feet is plain, with only the seated lion rising from it, free of the more typically seen corbel base or entwining foliage. In terms of general figure shape and depth of relief from the slab, the effigy of Bridport is similar to others carved around the middle of the century. For example, the heads of Bishop Walter de Gray (Cat. 36) and Bridport both have similar relationships to their canopies, in terms of relative space that the head takes up within it, and the depth of the head in relation to depth of canopy.

486 The surface of the stone on the figure of the bishop has suffered damage,338 but what survives shows the drapery treatment to be cleaner, more austere, less busily worked than on effigies of previous decades. The folds of the alb, dalmatic and tunicle, for example, hang in absolutely straight, regular, and almost tubular, shapes down the length of the legs. The hemline reflects the tubular structure of the drapery above rather than being worked into a myriad of wrinkles. The chasuble also features fewer and broader folds than those on previous effigies, and the sculptor has arranged the fabric falling below the arms so that it folds back over on itself. As with Cat. 36, the sculptor was sensitive to the arrangement of the body in relation to the disposition of his feet. The left leg splays out a bit to the left, and the right projects forward, the result of the uneven placement of the feet on the back of the beast. His orphrey, carved in relief above the chasuble, also reflects this asymmetrical stance by extending down the front of the bishop in a subtle curve rather than stiffly falling down the body's central axis. Though there is some bristle on the chin, the overall impression is of a clean-shaven face (as opposed to Cats. 4, 19, 36, and King John, Fig. 19), and, unlike other effigies, there are wrinkles around the corners of his eyes. Condition: the effigy has surface damage, particularly on the face, the folds of the chasuble, and the upper parts of the lion. The edges of the slab are carefully carved with multiple moldings, but there are four places on the north edge that are smooth, as if something had been attached—a small pilaster, perhaps like the shrine base for St Osmund. One has a corresponding disturbed place in stone on the ground. The tomb once

338

Purbeck can sometimes degrade below the surface, which then sinks as though it had been struck (pers. communication from Marion Roberts, derived from a conversation with Roy Strong).

487 had an iron grate across the arched openings. History, identification and scholarship: No documentary or pictorial record has yet been found indicating that the tomb has ever been moved, although Roberts expresses doubt on this point as it has been inserted awkwardly into its surroundings, and may have been dismantled and reassembled in place.339 It has been attributed to Bridport based on style and a reevaluation of antiquarian evidence, and a full study of the monument has been made by Roberts. According to the Fasti, or succession register, Bridport was buried south of the choir, in the chapel and near the altar of St Mary Magdalene, “in chori parte australi.”340 In c.1542, Leland listed tombs to both Bridport and Medford as being in the south choir aisle, though without saying which was which.341 A Lieutenant from Norwich saw the cathedral in 1635 and noted that in the upper south aisle, “on the right hand, lyeth in a Marble Monumt curiously cut Bp Giles in Hen 3rd time.”342 Most eighteenth-century plans of the church label the tomb in the southwest transept, currently given to Medford, as belonging to Bridport, and the tomb we now know as Bridport's was variously identified, usually to Bishop William Aiscough.343 Price, in the mid-eighteenth century,

339

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341 342 343

Roberts, “Bridport,” appendix I. The composition of the mortar suggests this perhaps occurred in the eighteenth century, but she notes there are no documentary references to any repairs to the monument. Wordsworth, Ceremonies, 210; Jones, Fasti, 89. The succession register apparently says chori when meaning presbytery, e.g. see the tombs of Martival and Ghent. This has led to great confusion, with all three bishops instead being assumed to have had tombs further west, closer to the choir stalls than to the presbytery. On the register as a source, see Roberts, “Bridport,” Appendix II. Leland, vol. I, 265. BL Lansdowne Ms 213, fol. 371. In a manuscript plan of Salisbury c.?1727 (Bodl Ms Willis 46, fol. fol 256v-257), Browne Willis placed Bridport in the south choir aisle next to the crossing, at the tomb now known as Medford's. The tomb now known to be Bridport's in the southeast transept he gave to Bishop York. A letter in Bodl Ms

488 noted that Bridport was buried at the altar of St Mary Magdalene, but his description of the tomb he attributed to Bridport matches the tomb to Medford.344 Richard Gough acknowledged Price's identification, but labeled the tomb to Aiscough based on the cathedral vergers' oral information.345 As a result, he attempted to reconcile the spandrel scenes with events from Aiscough's life. Though there is no inscription on the monument, nor evidence that there once had been, there is a carved shield in one of the spandrel scenes. When Stothard saw the monument in the early nineteenth century, he made note of color painted on the shield, which he interpreted as the Bridport coat of arms. By 1859 this had disappeared.346 Most nineteenth-century sources identified the tomb as representing Bridport.347 Despite the size and elaboration of the tomb, the monument does not feature prominently in antiquarian sketches until the late 1700s. An unfinished and unlabeled sketch concentrating on the architectural components rather than the effigy can be found in Smart Lethieullier's collections of notes.348 John Carter sketched the Bridport

344

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346

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Willis 38, 497, dated 1717, says that Aiscough was buried at Edington. A c.1734 plan in Lethieullier's collection (BL Add Ms 27349, fol. 44v-45), gave the tomb in the southwest transept (Medford) to Bridport, and labeled the tomb in the southeast transept as for William Aiscough; so also BL Kings Top 43, fol 39f, the pre-1770s plan Bodl Gough Maps 32, fol. 63v, and Carter's 1781 plan, BL Add Ms 29925, fol. 114. Price, 139, said that Giles was buried “under an arch that has a beautiful white marble top, wrought as a model of the outside of the tower.” This description is bewildering, particularly as the tower had not yet been built by Bridport's death. Roberts, “Bridport,” Appendix II, also noted this confusion in Price. Gough, Sepulchral Monuments, vol. II, 166-7. He also provided a long written description of the monument, particularly the spandrel scenes. Planché, 120, said it was covered with whitewash and showed no traces of arms. For Stothard's comments, see Dodsworth, An Historical Account, 215-16 and Britton, Salisbury, 95-6. Roberts found a record of someone making a plaster cast of it for the Crystal Palace, which may have removed all the paint traces (pers. communication). Dodsworth, An Historical Account, 215 and pl. 4; Buckler (1822); John Coney, in his c.1830 plan for Dugdale, Monasticon, vol. VI, pt. 3, 1292; Planché, 120. Britton, Salisbury, 95-6, attributes the monument to Bridport in the text. However, his pl. XXVI is a view of the tomb from a drawing by Mackenzie; this is labeled to Bingham. BL Add Ms 37350, fol. 133, shows a double canopy with solid roof, two crocketed gables, and scenes

489 monument in 1781.349 Wyatt's renovations sparked great interest in the cathedral's monuments, and most extant images show the monument after this period. Fortunately, the tomb seems not to have been affected by the renovations. Thomas Trotter's late eighteenth-century watercolor sketches (post-Wyatt) are most valuable for their depiction of color on the monument, particularly on the architectural surround, which had tracery moldings striped with black and gold, gilded crockets over the gables, and colored figure sculpture in the spandrels in gray, red and gold.350 He did not show any evidence of damage to the effigy. A preliminary survey report on the surviving polychromy of the monument carried out by the Courtauld Institute in 1999 recorded a great deal of red and

349 350

carved in the spandrels. No effigy drawn is inside, but this is clearly unfinished. There is nothing drawn around the tomb that might suggest that it is Salisbury, nor is there a label of any kind, or a date. BL Add Ms 37349, fol. 54 is a drawing of the tomb in the southwest transept, incorrectly attributed to Bridport, signed C Frederick, del. 1734. BL Add Ms 29925, fols. 122-3, published by Gough, Sepulchral Monuments, vol. II, pl. LIX. WANHS, volume I, fol. 19, a side elevation of the entire tomb, taken from south side facing the chapel. The Purbeck is shiny brown (even though he depicted the effigy in gray). The larger moldings within the two arched openings are striped black and gold, including the circle around the quatrefoil, the two small gables over the trefoils in each paired arch, and the inner pointed molding that caps the tracery. The hood molding of each pointed arch is gold and white striped, and the gables are black and gold striped. The crockets are all gold, as are the animals on the middle and edges. The bands of quatrefoils on either end of the canopy are painted with red ground, yellow moldings, and black in the spandrels of each quatrefoil. The figures in the large spandrels have some color, the figure at left in gold and red, that next to him in gray, on the other side, figures are in gray, gold, red. The ends of the monument, where the gable splays out, is a red background with gold patterning (leaves?), and there are leaves running vertically along the two outer Purbeck columns. There is also some gold on the smaller moldings over the pointed arches. The spandrel carvings are quite inaccurate. He shows a grouping of four people in the second from the left, and a pair of people with a star at top in the second from right, and a figure laying down in right spandrel. He is missing some of the crocket foliage on the left gable. In the same volume, fol. 18, is a birds-eye view of the effigy, although labeled for William Aiscough. While there are some inaccuracies, he did show the slight twist to the body and the off-center hanging of the orphrey down the front of the bishop's vestments. He omitted the censer that the angel on the north side is carrying, and the bowl. The mitre and face is wider than in reality, making him look a bit chubby. He simplified the thin moldings under the trefoil to one layer instead of two, and did not provide all the detail on the building at top. The beast is quite ill-defined. In volume O, fol. 111b is an ink sketch, this time without any color, and a detail of the canopy at the south side in the corner, with angel and architecture. The verso of this has the whole tomb, a view from the south, with some color washes and some notes. Mostly the notes refer to the stone, e.g. “yellowish greenish and marbled” for the base, black for the Purbeck pillars and bases, “stone color” for the limestone, white for the wall at the foot end. He has some rudimentary color washes on the figures in the canopy, but no written notes.

490 yellow in various locations on the south side of the monument, but nothing on the north side.351 Further drawings from the early nineteenth century were completed for Britton's publication and by Blore, though these do not add greatly to our knowledge of the tomb.352 Is it possible that we can suggest a designer for the tomb? Roberts discusses Westminster as an ultimate source for the design of the monument's canopy. Pamela Blum suggests that the mason [called “li Engingnur” in documents] Nicholas of York, who seems to have been brought in by Bishop William of York and who worked on the nave, was clearly familiar with Westminster, as demonstrated by the choice in the nave of piers in the piliers cantonne style.353 A document arranging for Nicholas's obit dates c.1260. Perhaps he had produced a design for Bridport's tomb before his death, and before Bridport's own death in 1262.

351

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CIA survey report, taken by JS, 3/2/99, accessed courtesy of David Park: “South side: canopy: w spandrel:-- Specks of red/orange remain in crevices A rust colour remains below the central finial of the gable of the western bay. 2nd spandrel from west: more remains of red. Suggests the backgrounds were painted red. Unable to see the remaining speck of gold mentioned by Marion Roberts [on the blazon/ arms]. E bay, w spandrel: red and yellow on background. Yellow underneath the lion’s foreleg. E spandrel, more red. Yellow on the foliage. Red on background of quatrefoil borders. Red and yellow on the parts of figurines and foliage where the relief comes out from the background. Nothing noted on the N side (2/2/99). The south side may contain more paint because it is less exposed to dusting/cleaning.” For the drawings for Britton's volume, see WAHNS, volume S, fol. 30, a collection of details of Bridport tomb, intended perhaps for a larger study, plus a side view of the effigy. The verso of this has sketches of the reliefs on the northeast side, and the detail of the angel in Purbeck in the tracery. Ibid., fol. 33 is a watercolor by T Baxter, taken from the north side, but the details are not very clear and there is no useful information about possible surviving medieval color. Baxter labeled it Bishop Bingham. Ibid., fol. 37 is a rudimentary working drawing of the northeast bay, showing the bottom half of the effigy in profile, and the arch above, with tracery and some foliage details filled in. Britton's published view, from a drawing by Mackenzie, pl. XXVI, labels it as Bingham's, although his text says Bridport. For Blore, see BL Add Ms 42010, fol. 11, a south elevation of the Bridport monument, shown whole with canopy. He labeled it correctly and assigned a date of 1280. His scenes on the south side are not entirely accurate in some places, and in others, he drew more information than what actually survives (e.g. the seated figure in the second spandrel from the west is shown more fully than what survives there now). Whether this can be taken to be accurate is hard to know. Blum, 21.

491 Cat. 21 Current location: on the plinth under the south arcade of the nave, second bay west of the crossing Identification: Walter de la Wyle (d.1271) Measurements: Width at head, approx. 74 cm (part of south side is missing); width at foot, approx. 45 cm. Length of whole, 219 cm. Length of figure, approx. 194 cm. Major features: Purbeck marble effigy, laid on a stone slab and tomb chest fabricated from fragments in c.1789. Each long side of the tomb chest is different, and the east and west ends of the chest are plain stone. The effigy is boldly carved, but lacking in delicate surface details and intricate motifs. The figure is housed within a niche, the canopy of which is carved in deep relief, although the majority of the upper part of the canopy has been broken off. The canopy framing the bishop's head is formed of a nodding trefoiled arch edged with bold raised mouldings. The whole is topped by a gable. The gable has a deep hole and groove at its apex, possibly to allow for a support for candles (a hole is also found in Cat. 19 at the apex of the canopy). The figure is flanked by rounded colonnettes, engaged to the slab along their length but raised high in relief. These have rounded capitals and end in rounded bases on either floriated or head stops, now damaged beyond recognition. If the stops were foliate, they would have been the only foliage to grace this very plain effigy. An angel sits on each side of the gable, though only that on north side survives. This angel displays the same bold broad-fold drapery as the main effigy. It crouches, left knee

492 raised, with torso facing east and head turned out towards the viewer. The broadly spreading wings at its back curve to touch the gable. Both arms are stretched out in front to swing a large rounded thurible towards the edge of the canopy near the bishop's head. The angel's head is broken off. The head of the bishop's crosier is still partly attached to the canopy, on the left side of the bishop's head, but most of the crosier is missing. The face and mitre are completely worn away except for some curly hair which survives around the sides of the forehead and the ears. On the north side, part of his mouth is still visible. The chin is smooth. His head rests on a pillow. He held a crosier with his left hand, and his right hand was raised, most likely in gesture of benediction, though it no longer survives. The drapery survives best on the north side, and is characterized by very heavy, even clumsy, broad folds of cloth arranged in deep Vs. The chasuble falls in fat, linked rolls at the front, and overlaps itself in thick layers where the raised arms disturb the natural fall of the cloth at the sides. At his feet, the alb and dalmatic are arranged in nearly symmetrical vertical folds, flattened over the lower legs, then more tubular on the sides. The maniple is a stiff ridge of stone along his left side. At the bishop's feet lie two beasts, one under each foot. Both bodies face each other, but the dog-like creature at his left foot twists so that its head looks out to the east, and the more serpent-like beast at its right foot twists westwards so that it faces the bishop. The crosier, which once crossed the body from bishop's left to right, once pierced the latter beast's mouth. There is much damage on the south side of the effigy. The face and the drapery on the south side have suffered, and the arm and angel on the south side are almost

493 completely missing. A large crack separates the head from the body at the neckline. A fragment has been inserted at the bishop's right shoulder, but it belongs to another part of the monument, or perhaps another monument entirely. It has a curved molding and some pleats of drapery, possibly part of an angel. History, attribution and scholarship: Antiquarian sources demonstrate that the effigy was formerly in the central chapel of the northwest transept and ascribe it to Bishop Wyle (d.1271). Leland copied a nowmissing martyrologium which stated that Wyle's burial was in the chapel to St Edmund.354 Wyle in his lifetime founded the College of St Edmund at Salisbury.355 A plan by Charles Frederick dated 1734 shows a tomb to Wyle against the south wall of the central chapel in the northwest transept, and other pre-renovation eighteenth-century plans concur.356 The succession register states that he was buried in this chapel.357 John Carter and Jacob Schnebbelie both drew the effigy before Wyatt's

354

355 356

357

Leland, vol. I, 265-6, included two entries for Wyle, one in January, which noted that he founded the church of St Edmunds, and one in October, which noted his burial at the altar of St Edmund. The January date appears to be correct, as it also appears in the surviving 15th-century obit calendar (see Wordsworth and Macleane, 3, and Wordsworth, Ceremonies, 231). Rich Jones, Fasti, 90, gave his date of death in January said that he was buried at the altar of St Edmund. Wordsworth, Ceremonies, 212 and 300, mentioned Bishop Scammel (d.1286) establishing c.1270 a chantry at this altar, but it is unclear if Scammel's chantry was founded for Wyle. In Wordsworth's discussions of the altar, Wyle's name does not appear. Leland did not mention Wyle's tomb in his diary (possibly the chapel was closed at his visit). Fletcher, “De Vaux,” 642. BL Add Ms 27349, fols. 44v-45. See also BL Kings Top 43, fol 39f, which shows an effigy on the tomb in that location. The tomb is marked with a J or 1, as are a few others, but in the key, 1 is left blank. Curiously, Wyle is labeled in the key as being number 8, but there is no corresponding number 8 on the plan. Bodl Gough Maps 32, fol. 63v, shows a tomb in same place, with effigy, and this one is definitely labeled Wyle. Brown dates this plan c.1789, but it still depicts the Hungerford 'cage' chapel in the nave, therefore it must be pre-1770s. See also Carter's 1781 plan, BL Add Ms 29925, fol. 114. Jones, Fasti, 90. Jones adds that the tomb had an “imagine deaurata,” but it appears that he saw the entry by Leland, vol. I, 265, for a tomb to Bishop Wytte, and read it (perhaps correctly?) as Wyle. See Cat. 66 for a discussion of the mysterious Bishop Wytte and the “imagine deaurata.”

494 renovations. Carter's is the earliest known sketch, dating from 1781.358 This side view shows the monument under a low four-centered pointed arch within a rectangular surround inserted into the chapel's south wall/screen. The spandrels are decorated with cinquefoil medallions and elongated trefoils. The niche and screen into which it is inserted appears to be stone, and the back of the niche a solid wall rather than opening into the next chapel. The arch and its effigy were located just west of the step that led up to the chapel's altar. The arched niche was a later date than the effigy, fifteenth century at the earliest, and therefore the burial may have been rearranged during a late medieval remodeling of the chapel. The effigy is shown to rest on the plinth in between the two chapels, rather than on a tomb chest. Carter’s drawing does not indicate damage yet to the face, but hints at damage to the head canopy, and shows the arms already broken, presumably during the (possible) late medieval remodeling. Schnebbelie took drawings of the monument in August 1788.359 Schnebbelie's drawings, however, seem to show an effigy in better condition than Carter recorded. In these, the crosier head was still intact, cusping is visible on the trefoiled niche around his head, the right arm is visible held up to his chest; the only damage shown is to the crosier shaft and to the surface of the forehead and mitre. Both Carter's and Schnebbelie's views show an unusual small arched opening on the back wall of the niche, just beyond the figure's raised right arm. On neither drawing can I make sense of this detail.

358 359

BL Add Ms 29925, fol. 115. Bodl Gough Maps 224, fol. 401, a side view, with the monument taken out of context. The effigy and slab are slightly tipped up for better viewing. See also WAHNS, Volume K, fol. 42, for a drawing that the curators believe may be by Schnebbelie, 1788. This is a pencil sketch of birdseye view of Cat. 19 and a side view of the same, then below, on the same page but a separate sheet of paper, a side view of Wyle in a low-arched niche, confirming the details visible in the other drawings.

495 Wyle's tomb was a victim of the late-eighteenth century scheme to open up the vistas in the cathedral. Each of the walls dividing the transept into chapels was removed so that the transepts formed one large open space. Wyle's effigy was placed on a newly fabricated base in the second bay of the nave from the crossing, as shown in plans made just after the removal.360 It has not moved since. The arch and partition wall into which the effigy had been inserted previously must have been destroyed. Several drawings record the effigy in its new location. A drawing taken by Thomas Trotter in 1798 includes the note “figure much mutilated,” suggesting that more damage occurred in moving the monument to its new location in the nave.361 The convention in Trotter's drawings is to show monuments in a better-than-reality state, which makes his evidence somewhat unreliable. He has, nevertheless, shown in this drawing quite a bit of damage; the nose, some fragments of the collar and crosier, both arms, and part of the colonnette along the north side are all missing. He shows, however, the drapery, the canopy, and the angel on the northwest corner, as whole. He drew the eyes open and illustrated several big rolls of hair on the north side of the head. The large crack across the neckline went unrecorded.362 Carter returned to Salisbury again in 1802

360

361 362

WAHNS, vol. S, fol. 1, Mackenzie's plan c.1809, where the tomb is described in the key as “Removed from N aisle of grand transept, supposed to be of Wyle.” Fol. 18, dated 1809, is a sketch of the north side of the south nave arcade with tombs in place on the plinth. See also the plan by John Coney in Dugdale, Monasticon, vol. VI, pt. 3, showing the pre-1813 arrangement with the high altar in the extreme eastern end of the church, in which Wyle's tomb is clearly shown in the nave; Dodsworth, An Historical Account, pl. 3; Britton, Salisbury, pl. I. WAHNS, Vol. I, fol. 12, a side view with slightly tipped effigy, taken from the north. There are other problems with accuracy in this drawing, for example, his inaccurate rendition of the angel's wings. Instead of illustrating the north side of the base, he drew the south side and paired it with the north side of the effigy, as if he did not notice or care that the base was different on each side. In addition, he did not convey the boldness and depth of the carving, particularly the drapery.

496 and completed a number of small sketches of various monuments.363 In pencil on his drawing of the Wyle tomb he wrote the word ‘new’ across the very bottom of the base and at the foot end. J Barter drew the effigy shortly after its move and recorded with relative accuracy the damage to the effigy.364 The tomb chest was opened in the 1970s, and two boxes of remains found within, as well as another burial below the plinth. None of these appear to belong to Wyle.365 The effigy seems always to have been attributed to Wyle, based on its former location in the chapel of St. Edmund and on Wyle's known interest in St. Edmund. The style of the drapery, the architectural details, and the depth of relief of the effigy are in concert with a date in the 1270s.366

Cat. 22 Current location: under the north arcade of the nave, bay 20 from the east, sharing the plinth in that bay with the Purbeck military effigy of William Longespee II Identification: possibly Bishop William de la Corner (d.1291) Measurements: Width at head, 47 cm; width at feet, approx. 36 cm. Length of whole, 108 cm. Depth at canopy from base of slab, 18 cm. The figure takes up all but approx. 10 363

364

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366

BL Add Ms 29939, fol. 59, Wyle is on the top left corner of this folio, in the new position with fabricated tomb base. Carter did not show architectural context in this rough sketch. He, unlike Trotter, showed the north side of the base. LSA, uncatalogued boxes arranged by county, “Sepulchral Monuments British Isles,” Wiltshire, an undated pencil sketch showing the effigy from the north side. He recorded damage to part of the canopy, the top of the face, and the crosier. Spring, “Recent Discoveries,” 9. These two boxes were from Wyatt's renovation, one marked “bones from under the west wall of the Beauchamp chapel” and the other “bones recovered from the west end of the Beauchamp chapel,” with a plan showing their positions. In the plinth was a lead coffin, dating probably to the fourteenth century. Spring suggested that Wyle's remains are still in the northwest transept, perhaps in the plinth there; burial within the plinth was evidently not uncommon at Salisbury. A Gardner, 157; Roberts, “Bridport,” 567-9.

497 cm of the whole monument. Major features: The major distinguishing feature of this effigy is its size, under four feet in length. It is the only diminutive medieval effigy at Salisbury, and the only known medieval diminutive effigy of a bishop. The slab is freestone, extremely worn so that surface details have been lost. It rests directly on the plinth, and whatever base or coffin once was associated with it is now gone. The slab portrays a recumbent effigy within a niche, with an attendant angel at either side of the effigy's head. The effigy's feet rest on what may have once been a beast, but is now worn beyond recognition. The niche over the bishop's head is a nodding trefoil with simple molding, topped by a gable, much like the canopy over the head of the Wyle effigy (Cat. 21). At the sides of the figure are colonnettes with rounded capitals and bases, in high relief but engaged with the slab, as those flanking Bishop Wyle's effigy. The angels in the corners are facing eastwards and kneeling, with one knee up and the other foot stretched behind. In pose they too are similar to the angels accompanying Wyle's effigy, though the angels' wings are not visible on the smaller tomb. Each angel appears to hold an arm out to the canopy as if embracing it. The features of the effigy are too worn to tell much. He wore a disproportionately large mitre with prominent lappets. His amice was also prominent. His head rests on a pillow, his left hand holds a crosier (still intact), and his right hand was brought up in front of his chest, probably in a gesture of benediction. The drapery style cannot be assessed in its current condition; the chasuble, for example, is worn completely flat.

498 There are some traces of red color on the freestone in the remaining crevices.367 History, attribution and scholarship: Leland in his 1542 visit mentioned a “sepulchre with an image of 4. fote in lenght [sic] of a bisshop,” which must refer to the effigy here under consideration. He did not, unfortunately, indicate its location. Rawlinson's compilation of monuments and inscriptions at Salisbury published in 1723 included a seventeenth-century text (c.1683?) by John Gregory on the custom of electing a chorister boy to be 'bishop.' Gregory mentioned this monument: “the monument lay long buried it self under the seats near the Pulpit, at the removal whereof it was of late years discovered, and translated from thence to the north part of the nave, where it now lieth betwixt the Pillars, covered over with a box of wood....”368 Rawlinson added a note saying that the box had been removed by the time of his writing (1723). The reprint of Price's observations on the cathedral in 1774 included Rawlinson's (and therefore Gregory's) text, but altered it to reflect that by this time, the tomb had an iron grille over it.369 Evidently Price believed the small tomb might have belonged to Bishop Scammel, as he stated that Scammel was “laid near the northwest grand leg under the present seating,” a location which suits Gregory's description of placement of the small effigy.370 From this information, its movements in the seventeenth

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Visible to the eye, and see also the preliminary report in the CIA, Salisbury Cathedral Polychromy Survey, done by JS, 2/2/99, accessed courtesy of David Park. Rawlinson, Salisbury, 70-71, with a woodcut on p.80. The text is reprinted in the 1774 edition of Price, 65. John Gregory's text was reprinted several times in the latter half of the seventeenth century, and it is unclear to what date exactly one should assign these particular comments. Price, 65, also Brown, Salisbury, 118-19. Price, 139, did not mention the effigy directly, but the location fits. P. 137ff in this revised version of Price are “Additional remarks from a manuscript of the late Mr Francis Price, esq.,” mostly recounting bishops' burial places. Price's description of Scammel's burial place must be a mistake, as Scammel is said in the Succession Register to lie opposite or against the salve chapel and near the altar of the relics. While there is much debate about this location, it is fairly certainly not in the east nave under the

499 century can be reconstructed. Seats were first placed in the nave after the Reformation, in Bishop Jewel's episcopate, c.1560, but in 1634, Archbishop Laud ordered the pews to be removed.371 Since Gregory's publication dates from the seventeenth century, it makes sense that these are the seats to which Gregory was referring, and that the tomb was uncovered when these were taken down per Laud's order. When exactly these were removed is unclear, and it is possible that Laud's order was not carried out for several decades. The effigy must have been discovered before the new seats were introduced in the nave in 1676-7, under Bishop Seth Ward, as these seats were not removed until c.1777.372 By c.1680, the effigy had been moved to the plinth under the north nave arcade. Spring found farthings dated 1675 and 1679 below the military effigy next to it, so both were probably moved here sometime after 1679.373 Eighteenth-century plans reveal some discrepancies about its placement, however. The c.1734 Lethieullier and Frederick plan shows a tomb of the “episcopus puerorum” (boy bishop) in the nave, in the fourth bay from the west front (bay 19 from the east).374 This plan shows it alone in the bay, while the Purbeck effigy of the knight Longespee was drawn in the third bay from the west. Another early plan shows a tomb labeled for the boy bishop in bay 4 from the west. However, in bay 3, it shows the effigy of the knight and an unlabeled smaller tomb immediately west of it, which must surely be the diminutive bishop's effigy. If so, the 371 372 373

374

seating. See Rich Jones, Fasti, 90-91: “sepultus jacet ex opposito capell. Salve ante altare reliquiarum.” Brown, Salisbury, 35. Ibid., 41. Spring, “Recent Discoveries,” 13. It is likely, although not certain, that the bishop's effigy was put into place at the same time as the military effigy. Brown, 150, posits the move took place c.1676-7 (citing the 1774 edition of Price). Planché, 123, said the effigy was discovered c.1680. He may have been looking to Rawlinson and Gregory for this date. BL Add Ms 27349, fols. 44v-45.

500 two were in the same bay then as they are today.375 A pre-1770s plan shows the two together in bay 3, as they are today.376 Neither is labeled, but the plan by John Coney, taken after the 1789 renovation under Wyatt's direction, mentions that the 'chorister bishop' is the westernmost of the pair.377 Price commented that in 1753 it was surrounded by an iron grille, and an 1898 article noted that “A herse ... still exists over the figure of the boy-bishop in Salisbury Cathedral.”378 Stothard's engraving of the effigy shows it already very worn by c.1817.379 The effigy was cleaned in the 1970s. No burial was found below it in the plinth.380 Because of its size, the effigy has been associated for centuries with the custom of electing a chorister boy to preside over events in full pontificals as 'bishop' from St Nicholas's Day to Holy Innocents' Day (Dec 6-28). It has been supposed that one of these boy bishops died while in 'office' and was given this memorial, representing a boy in pontificals, as commemoration. This tradition goes back to the late seventeenth century, and John Gregory's text about the boy bishop was reproduced in Rawlinson's 1723 publication and again in the 1774 edition of Price's publication. This attribution was consistent through the eighteenth century. Planché, writing in 1859, was the first to question the tradition in print, noting that the diminutive size is found on non-episcopal 375

376 377

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379 380

BL Kings Top 43, fol 39f, dated before ?1745. Brown, Salisbury, 149, says the plan is “obviously in error,” but she did not note that the Frederick plan also labeled a tomb for a boy bishop in bay 4. Carter, BL Add Ms 29925, fol. 114, does not list a small effigy to a bishop on his 1781 plan. Bodl Gough Maps 32, fol. 63v. Dugdale, Monasticon, vol. VI, pt. 3; see also the Mackenzie plan for Britton, c.1809 (WANHS, volume S, fol. 1). See also JK Floyer, “On a Mutilated Effigy in the Cloister of Worcester Cathedral, said to represent Alexander Neckam,” Worcester Diocesan Architectural and Archaeological Society 24 (1897), which the author supposes may have had a similar hearse as the tomb at Salisbury. Stothard (1817). Spring, “Recent Discoveries.” At least, there was no mention of such by Spring. There was also no burial found beneath the adjacent effigy to William Longespee.

501 effigies elsewhere.381 If the eastern part of the nave was the original location of this effigy, is it possible to match the location up with a particular bishop's burial place? The nodding canopy dates it towards the end of the thirteenth century. Of the five bishops who reigned in rapid succession in the latter part of the thirteenth century, Robert de Wickhampton (d.1284), Walter Scammel (d.1286), Henry de Braundeston (d.1288), de la Corner (d.1291), and Nicholas Longespee (d.1297), all but de la Corner are known to have been buried near or in the Trinity Chapel. Bishop de la Corner is known from the succession register to have been buried in between the Matutinal altar and the Spiritus Sancti altar, both of which Malden thought to be in the eastern part of the nave, a location which suits the post-medieval evidence.382 Spring in 1979 put forth the idea that the effigy is diminutive because it covered only partial remains of a bishop, and thus suggested it represents Bishop Richard Poore (see discussion in Cat. 19). However, there is no documentation that would suggest that Poore's burial was in the eastern nave, or even that any part of him was buried at Salisbury.383 De la Corner remains the best candidate.

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Planché, 121-4. He thought that the death and honorific burial of a chorister bishop would have been such a rare event that it would have been recorded in the annals. He cited a number of other examples in which adults had chosen to be commemorated by a full effigy carved on a small scale. He believed this was a conscious wish of the deceased or his executors. Among those he listed, two were ecclesiastical: a diminutive effigy to an abbot at Bindon Abbey, Dorset, of length of only 2 feet, and an ecclesiastic in Darlington, Devon, of 2 feet 8 inches. He also printed the suggestion that the diminutive effigy could represent a burial of a part of a body rather than the whole, such as a heart. Some of the other diminutive effigies hold hearts in their hands. Malden, 345-6: “in navi ecclesiae inter altare matutinum et Spiritus Sancti” (from the Fasti Eccesliae Sarisberiensis, begun as indicated on the manuscript 1698/1705 and dated c.1720). Malden suggested these altars were in the eastern part of the nave. Malden said that Seth Ward said de la Corner was buried “in medio chori” and so does Canon Rich Jones, but that Rich Jones did not notice that there was a correction in the margin of the Fasti saying “sepult: in nave ecclesiae inter altar: matutin: Sptus Sancti.” Brown, Salisbury, 118-9 and 150, thinks the Corner attribution likely. Spring, “Recent Discoveries,” 13, suggested it was moved from the choir during the seventeenth century (believing it to be Poore), but this does not follow if the episcopal effigy was under the nave

502

WELLS At Wells, seven effigies made of local Doulting stone survive from the first part of the thirteenth century. These are all retrospective effigies, created in two groups, one group of five and the other of two. Burials at Wells were interrupted when the diocesan seat transferred to Bath. Bishop Jocelin (d.1242) was the first bishop to be buried at Wells once it had been reinstated as the physical seat of the diocese. Despite the presence of seven effigial retrospective tombs, it cannot be said that effigial tombs were the standard trend at Wells. The possibility exists that Jocelin's tomb had a bronze effigy (see Cat. 67), but Bitton's tomb slab (Cat. 30) had an incised effigy. The first to have an effigial tomb after the retrospective series was Bishop Marchia (d.1302).

This section considers the seven retrospective effigies as two groups, set 1 and set 2, and then discusses their history together at the end. Their current arrangement in the cathedral is: south aisle, three bishops from set one, and one from set two; on the north side, two effigies from set one, and one from set two.

Cat. 23 (from Set 1) Current location: south choir aisle, bay east of the crossing, westernmost effigy Identification: currently labeled Burwoldus Measurements: Width at head, 67 cm; width at feet, 50 cm. Length of slab, 200 cm; length of effigy, 188 cm. Deepest point of effigy (his arms), 27 cm. Depth of canopy, 20 seats in the seventeenth century.

503 cm (from slab). Major features: The effigy slab rests on a modern plain rectangular chest, but which retains some thirteenth-century stone from the original base. This has a fragment of lettering of the bishop's name. The effigy slab is tapered and has a very modest chamfered edge, which terminates at the top left corner in a spray of foliage (the top right corner is broken off, but presumably was once the same). The bishop stands on a plain plinth, and has no beast or foliage at the feet. There are no formal architectural features around the effigy, although there is a slight raised semi-circular molding around his head, in general form similar to the Purbeck effigy at Salisbury brought over from Old Sarum (Cat. 18). Above the bishop's right shoulder, within this semi-circular 'canopy,' is the remainder of a carved bird. Still visible are the claw feet and two wings folded over its back; head and chest are gone. The bird is an unusual feature which appears also, in a similar location, on the tomb of Bronescombe at Exeter (Cat. 9). The crosier head would also have been attached here, and a fragment of it or of its supporting stone spur is still in place, though the staff is broken at the bishop's shoulder. The figure is recumbent, although his head does not rest on a pillow. He wears a tall mitre, its lappets broadly spread to each side of the bishop's head and raised prominently in relief. His hair is carved across the forehead in a row of evenly spaced curling locks, each formed of thick parallel ropy strands of hair. A mustache and beard is formed of parallel incised lines. His mouth turns down, and his eyes are widely spaced and bulge outwards, with an incised line across the center of the bulge indicating the

504 lower edge of the upper lid. The eyes could be closed, in which case the sculptor has rendered this most unnaturally, or they could be half-open and heavily lidded. The broad, rectangular face has prominent cheekbones and a squared jaw. The tip of the crosier just before the break shows a Corinthian capital with ring molding below. The staff is held in the crook of the bishop's right arm and extends to the area between his feet. Both hands are folded across his stomach as if in repose, but the fingers of his right hand are, however, held as if blessing. The bishop's figure is rectangular in massing, broad but not rising in the middle to illustrate the curve of the stomach or chest. The arms and chest are particularly wide, making him look substantially stockier than the other retrospective effigies in the cathedral. The mitre has raised bands around the base and to the peak in the center. The apparel of the amice is very tall, meeting at the neck in deeply grooved swirls of fabric. It is difficult to see if he is wearing gloves, as some of the others are, as the edges of gloves are not visible under the sleeves of the alb, which end in a raised border. Over the arms the cloth gathers in deep overlapping folds, not exactly parallel or regular in arrangement. The maniple hangs from his left arm in very high relief with large fringes at the ends, as have the mitre lappets. The chasuble, shorter than the others in this aisle, though it hangs well below the knees, is defined by deeply grooved, nested concentric folds forming below the arms. A plain tunicle with raised band at hem and edges hangs below, showing two gentle swells indicating legs. The stole, visible between the tunicle and the plain alb, also ends in prominent fringes. The hems on each garment lay in a straight line at his feet, unlike the other four in set 1, which have more gently curving hemlines.

505 Cat. 24 (Set 1) Current location: south choir aisle, bay east of the crossing, east of preceding effigy Identification: currently labeled Eilwin Measurements: Width at head, 64 cm; width at foot, 43 cm, therefore a dramatic taper. Length of slab, 186 cm; length of figure, 180 cm. Depth of canopy, 36 cm; deepest point of relief (the mitre), 38 cm. Major features: As with the previous monument, this effigy slab rests on a plain, twentiethcentury chest. The canopy and its foliage, however, are more dramatic and set this bishop apart from the others. Viewed from above, the canopy has a squared off top, edged with roll molding, then expands out into great volutes of thick sinewy foliage at either side of the bishop's head, in an unusual merging of architectural and foliate forms. The crosier head nestles inside one of these volutes, on the bishop's right. Along the edges of the effigy slab a curving stem with leaves begins at the knees and travels up to branch out into the foliage at the side of the canopy. When the effigy is viewed from the side, the foliage near the head is formed of two volutes emerging from a central point, which forms the base of the foliage seen from above. Seen from the west end, the top of the canopy is flat, but has some surface adornment of interlacing pattern of foliage in a figure-eight. This meets nicely with the volutes at the corners. The foliage is carved in deep relief, with thick, sinuous stems and long curling leaves ending in fleshy lobes. In places these leaves form large bunches of foliage seen with stiff-leaf carving. The crosier head is relatively simple in comparison.

506 The proportions of this effigy are slightly different than the previous one, the figure more gently tapered at the shoulders and less bulky across the arms and chest. The flat, broad face, however, is similar in shape to the previous figure, although the ropy beard is longer and flows more freely, and there is no mustache. The bishop has a smooth brow, and a turned-down mouth. The stone around the eyes is too worn to be certain if they are open or closed. Thick bunches of curls peek out from below the mitre across the forehead, but in a slightly different arrangement than the effigy to the west. A tall amice stands free of the neck like the previous effigy, but does not meet in soft fabric at the throat. The crosier rests in the nook of the right arm, and both hands are folded across the chest and stomach, but at a slightly different angle than the previous figure. All the fingers of the right hand are fully extended, not formed in the gesture of blessing. The crosier staff extends between the feet. The general pose is recumbent, although he does not lie on a pillow. The edges of the gloves are visible at the wrists, and the sleeves of the tunicle, though worn, are decorated in a raised band. The chasuble hangs below the tunicle, which has a raised band along the hem and edge. The stole, which, like the maniple, has fringes, is visible above the alb. Tidy regular nested folds characterize the lower part of the chasuble and the fabric over his arms, although the folds are arranged in a series of narrower u-shapes than the effigy to the west.

Cat. 25 (Set 1) Current location: south choir aisle, second bay east of crossing, to the east of the

507 previous two Identification: currently unlabeled Measurements: Width at head, 62 cm; width at feet, 45 cm. Length of slab, 187 cm; length of figure 187 cm. Deepest relief (mitre), 32 cm; depth of canopy, 26 cm. Major features: This figure stands under a canopy more traditionally architectural in nature than the previous two. His head rests within a concave elongated trefoiled surround, which rises from engaged colonnettes with shaft rings, plain squared capitals, and squared imposts. The colonnettes fade into a simple chamfer which runs along the edges of the slab. The upper corners of the slab features foliate bunches which curve up along the tops and sides of the canopy to embrace it. The crosier head still survives just to the side of the canopy at the bishop's right, but the upper shaft is broken. The crosier head has one single 3-lobed leaf inside a defined rounded edge, essentially ending in its own curls of foliage (like previous). The corbel base on which the figure stands is, like the other two, plain. This third effigy, like the second, has a slightly more elongated and narrower upper body than the first effigy. The facial features vary from those on the previous effigies, though the general shape of the face, eyes, and hair are same. Widely spaced lines across the forehead, crows' feet at the corners of the eyes, strong nasal-labial lines, and visible tendons in the neck give the effigy a more elderly aspect. Whether or not the eyes were open is unclear. As with the other figures, the crosier rests in the crook of his right arm. The right hand, with a ring, has two fingers extended in blessing as it rests

508 palm down on his chest. The left arm lays across his stomach. The mitre is the same as the previous two. The amice and maniple stand in high relief, and where the sleeves of the alb and tunicle show, the sculptor has given them a raised border. The chasuble falls in narrower ridges, closer together, than the previous two, and the folds begin higher up the chasuble, near the right hand, at the chest. The chasuble is long, hanging at its tip below the edge of the tunicle, which has a raised band at the hem. The stole, with fringes, then the base of the alb, are visible below.

Cat. 26 (Set 1) Current location: north choir aisle, bay east of the crossing, westernmost figure Identification: labeled as Bishop Sigarus Measurements: Width at head, 67 cm; width at feet, approx. 49 cm (SE corner broken). Length of slab, 199 cm; Length of head, 42 cm. Depth at highest point (the mitre), 28 cm. Major features: This slab is distinguished from the others in this set primarily by its canopy. The chamfered edge of the slab develops into a foliate stop, then a simple foliate capital, then, arching over the figure's head, a nodding trefoiled canopy. The sides of the canopy are decorated with four stems of foliage with different types of sprays at the corners. A figure of an angel partially survives on each upper corner of the slab; these are seated, facing towards the bishop's head (or possibly looking upwards, but both heads are missing). The angel on the north side is the best survival, showing the lower body, waist, and part of the upper torso. Remnants probably of wings are found on either side. On the top of the

509 canopy are two bands raised in relief which appear to have been scrolls held by the angels. What remains of the arms of the angel on the south side seems to reach towards one of the bands. The crosier head still survives on the bishop's right, resting in front of the angel, although the staff has been broken in places. The bishop stands on a different corbel base from those on the south side. His is rounded around each foot, and has a central rounded 'tongue' between the feet. There is a crack which passes across the neckline, left shoulder, and canopy on the right side. The bishop's face has also been slightly differentiated from the others, particularly in the many close wrinkles lining his forehead. The neck also shows signs of age, with tendons visible and a prominent Adam's apple. He wears a long mustache, and his beard grows along his jaw all the way up to the hairline. The hair peeks out from the mitre in short curls across the forehead. His eyes are too damaged to tell if open or closed. The hands are folded diagonally over his stomach, with the fingers fully extended. The crosier staff rests in the crook of the right arm and continues down the front of the figure towards the feet. The mitre, like the others in this set, has raised bands around mitre base and down the center. Part of the amice is broken but it was probably once as prominent as those on the other four effigies in this set. Below the collar, on the chest, is an incised and slightly raised pectoral ornament which extends over his shoulders, a feature which none of the other four effigies in this set share. Two layers of sleeves are visible below the chasuble, both with borders defined by incised lines. The maniple hangs from the left arm in relief, though it does not end in a fringe as do those on the south side. There is no evidence of

510 gloves or a ring. The chasuble falls in even, regular folds over both arms. The sculptor has begun the folds of the chasuble much higher up, so they are visible over the tops of his arms as vertical gathers which then fall into slightly irregular nested u-folds, much like the u-folds on the second effigy (Cat. 24) on the south side. Unlike on the other four effigies in this set, the tunicle is bordered by a wide raised band, and the stole is not visible. Cat. 27 (Set 1) Current location: north choir aisle, bay east of the crossing, easternmost figure Identification: currently labeled Levericus Measurements: Width at head, approx. 63 cm (SW corner broken off); width at feet, 52 cm. Length of slab, 191 cm; length of figure, approx. 188 cm. Depth of highest point, approx. 26 cm (taken at mitre and arms). Length of face and mitre, 38 cm. Major features: The figure's head rests within a cinquefoiled canopy outlined with roll molding. A second roll molding adorns the outside surface of the canopy. From the upper corners of the slab, foliage grows and curls around the canopy. The canopy has prominent foliate stops at either side of the bishop's shoulders. This figure has a smooth face and brow, as a young man. He is clean-shaven, with curls of hair all the way across the forehead. His Adam's apple is visible, but the neck is not as strained as on some of the other bishops in this set. Despite these differences, the same strong, downward lines around the nose and mouth are visible, and the eyes still bulge outwards. The mouth is turned down at the corners, and the eyes—possibly

511 closed—have an incised line towards the bottom of the bulge. His hands are crossed over his stomach, fingers fully extended, and his crosier rests in the crook of his right arm. The free-standing portion of the crosier is broken, but the crosier head rests in the curve of the canopy. The mitre is similar to the other four in the set, but the lappets are very prominent with a carved fringe, much like the first effigy in the set on the south side (Cat. 23). He wears a large amice with bold loops of soft cloth at the front, also like Cat. 23. These are in fact the only two of the set with these same features. The chasuble folds over the arms in quite deep parallel folds, regularly placed. Across the front, the chasuble falls in regular, closely spaced nested u-folds, extremely similar in regularity and arrangement as the chasuble of the unnamed bishop on the south side (Cat. 25). It hangs down below the tunicle at the front, which does not have a raised band like the tunicles on the other effigies. The maniple is folded prominently over the left arm, and it, like the mitre lappets and stole, has deeply carved fringes. There is no evidence of a ring or gloves. The sleeves of the alb come down over wrist, and sleeves of both alb and tunicle are visible. The base below his feet mimics the outline of his feet and alb, in a slightly different arrangement than the others.

Cat. 28 (Set 2) Current location: south choir aisle, bay 6 east of the crossing Identification: currently labeled Dudico. Measurements: Width at feet and head, 56 cm. Length of slab, 182 cm. Length of face and mitre approx. 23 cm as existing (missing tip of mitre).

512 Major features: This is one of the matching pair in set 2. He, like the counterpart to the north (Cat. 29), lies on a large rectangular pillow without any canopy around his head. The pillow stands proud of the slab and extends slightly over its edges; at the feet are the remnants of a fan of foliage, once forming a small corbel of sorts. The feet are broken off. The slab is roll molded around the edges, then rises up in a hollow chamfer lined with sprigs of trilobed leaves that curve up towards the top of the slab. There does not seem to have been any foliage on the north chamfered edge of the slab at any point, implying perhaps that it was originally made to be viewed from the south. The foliage along the west edge has been cut off. The figure shape is much different from those in set 1, deeper in relief, more heavily undercut from the slab, and the trunk of the body less rectangular in overall massing. The face is considerably more oval in shape and rounded in profile, dramatically different from the flat, rectangular faces on the first set. He is clean-shaven, and no hair shows below the mitre, except for behind his prominent ears, where it lies in 3 parallel ridges. The neck is also rather round and fleshy. Although only the thumb and two parts of the fingers survive, it is clear that the right hand is held in front of his chest in a gesture of blessing. The left hand held something, presumably the crosier, although the lack of any vestige of stone support along the length of a crosier staff suggest it was made of another material, probably wood. A hole in his left hand and another in his chest just above it most likely mark the points of attachment to the figure. Much has been made of the plain, low mitres on this effigy and Cat. 29, which are

513 markedly different from those on set 1. However, the front tips have been broken off, and, when whole, would have been quite a bit taller (see e.g. the rear point lying intact on the pillow). The lappets at the back of the mitre rest on the pillow behind the shoulders. The amice is lower, less prominent than those in set 1. The sleeves of the alb, dalmatic and tunicle are visible. The maniple rather naturally hangs below the folds of the chasuble from the left arm and is only just visible. The chasuble comes down just below the knees, and is formed of soft ridges and nested folds, starting from the neckline and continuing down the front of the figure. Rather unusually for funerary effigies, the cloth of the chasuble sways over to the bishop's left side rather than hanging completely symmetrically down the front, and the folds over the arms are softer and more natural than those on set 1. The chasuble folds are quite deep, generally formed of nested ushapes, but with some slight hairpin loops, and the cloth gathers in a thicker ridge at the bottom and sides of the garment. The lower garments hang in vertical channels indicating the presence of the legs below. There is, under the drapery folds, some evidence of paint. The tunicle was black or green. The chasuble on the underside has specks of red. The background of the foliage along the slab was also painted black or red and the lower part of slab might have been red. There was gold or yellow on the mitre, just above the hair; his hair may have been golden, too. There is a dark paint (green?) in the hollows of his sleeves.

Cat. 29 (Set 2) Current location: north aisle, bay 6 east of the crossing.

514 Identification: currently labeled 'Giso' Measurements: Width at feet and head, 56 cm. Length of slab, 183 cm. Length of face, 23 cm existing (missing tip of mitre) Major features: The effigy rests on a simple, chamfered, rectangular slab. There is roll molding around three edges of the slab, with only the north edge left plain. As with the other effigy in this set, this indicates that it was once (perhaps originally) visible from the south rather than the north (and hence, is today on the wrong side of the screen). The bottom left corner of the slab was once broken off. The head rests on a large rectangular pillow the same size as that on its counterpart, and there is no evidence of any architectural feature. His feet, now missing, once rested on a now-broken small bunch of foliage below. In the center of this stone is a bit of metal to which something was attached, possibly the shaft of the crosier. There is a hole in the remains of the right foot, as if made to hold a tenon by which the missing portion of the foot was once attached. In almost every way this figure is the same as the other in this set. He is, however, bearded (especially visible on the south side of the face), and his hair arranged in longer ropy strands behind his ears. The eyes on both figures are damaged, but this effigy appears to have an incised line at the midpoint of the rounded eyeball, either meant to portray closed or half-open lids. His hands are also slightly differently arranged, with the right hand across the chest, and the left across the stomach. The hands are broken, so we cannot be sure if he was blessing with his right and holding the crosier in his left, like the other effigy. The crosier again was freestanding, as the drapery folds have not been

515 disturbed, but the only possible evidence remaining for its presence is the hole in the foliate corbel. (The tiny ridge of stone on the chest is probably a remnant of the left hand.) The folds of the chasuble, while generally the same in style as his counterpart's and still, like the other, asymmetrical, are here organized slightly differently across the chest. History, identification, and scholarship of the seven Wells retrospective effigies: The seven retrospective effigies represent Wells bishops from the pre-Conquest period. The eastern end of the church has been rebuilt twice since the burials of the preConquest bishops, so the current situation has no relationship to the original burial places. Very little in fact is known about the original burials. The Historiola only mentions two, of the last two pre-Conquest bishops Dudoc and Giso, who were buried in the Saxon chancel in small niches made in the wall on either side of the high altar.384 The choir was rebuilt in the last quarter of the twelfth century, resulting in a three-bay presbytery east of the crossing.385 The bones of the early bishops were moved into 384

385

Hunter, ed., 9-41, in English translation. Giso was buried “in a little niche made in the wall, on the north side near the altar [in emiclico facto in pariete a parte aquilonali prope altare], as Duduco his predecessor was buried on the south side of the altar [a meridie juxta altare].” Rodwell, Wells Cathedral, vol. I, 110, accepts a c.1175 date for the Historiola, but Grandsen, “History,” believes it to date to c.1206; Malone, Facade as Spectacle, agrees with this. Wharton, vol. I, printed the Historia Minor (c.1370 with a list of bishops) and the Historia Major (c.1410), both from the Wells Liber Albus II. For another interpretation of “emiclico” see Rodwell, Wells Cathedral, 111, where he proposed that it could mean an apse-like structure, or a small rounded chapel, like a porticus, added on either side of the sanctuary. He also suggested that the other five bishops must have been buried in a series of porticus attached to the cathedral, as seen at Winchester Old Minster. The building chronology is discussed in Harvey, “The Building of Wells Cathedral, I: 1175-1307,” Colchester, ed., Wells Cathedral: A History, 52-75; Robinson, “Documentary Evidence Relating to the Building of the Cathedral Church of Wells,” Archaeological Journal 85 (1928), 1-22; Bilson, “Notes on the Earlier Architectural History of Wells Cathedral,” Archaeological Journal 85 (1928), 23-68; and in Rodwell, Wells Cathedral, vol. I, 3-4 and 129-31. The new eastern end was begun between 1175-85, and was rising by 1191. Harvey, Robinson, and Rodwell lean towards the earlier date within that range, c.1175, in contrast to Bilson's argument that it may have been begun later, c.1190. Malone suggests a c.1186 start date based on comparisons to other west country buildings. The form of the new eastern end remains somewhat ambiguous. From small excavations, Rodwell, Wells Cathedral, 131 and 136-8,

516 positions around the new choir, but whether this new arrangement mimicked the old is unknown. Between c.1319 and c.1325, the presbytery was extended by an additional three bays, a small eastern transept, and a new eastern chapel, as seen today.386 Leland's visit in c.1540 provides the earliest known evidence for the late-medieval placement of the tombs. The effigies remained stationary from at least that time until 1848, when the choir was renovated. In the north aisle “juxta chorum” Leland saw “quatuor tumuli et imagines Episcoporum Wellen. quae referent magnam vetustatem.” In the south aisle near the choir were “Quatuor tumuli Episcoporum Wellensium, quorum tres imagines habent antiquitatem referentes.”387 Of the three oldest southern tombs, he identified the westernmost as belonging to Bishop Burwold. Godwin, in 1601, also noted a tomb for Burwold on the south side of quire. For the others, Godwin merely guessed at the identifications of the tombs of Dudoc and Giso, the two that, as stated in the medieval documentation, were located either side of the high altar. Of Dudoc, “It seemeth his tomb is the highest [i.e. the easternmost] of those ancient monuments that we see upon the south outside the Quire.” Of Giso, “I take his to be the highest of those olde tombes that lye upon the outside of the quier toward the North.”388 In 1634, a lieutenant from Norwich visited Wells and reported “On the North side of the Quire... 5 old Bishops in

386

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suggested that this rebuild had a choir of three bays, an eastern ambulatory, and a projecting three-bay eastern chapel; see the plan p. 136, fig. 114. For the fourteenth-century work at Wells, see Draper, “The Sequence and Dating of the Decorated Work at Wells,” Coldstream and Draper, eds., Medieval Art and Architecture at Wells and Glastonbury, BAACT, 18-29; Harvey, “The Building of Wells Cathedral, II: 1307-1508,” Colchester, ed., Wells Cathedral: A History, 76-101. Leland, vol. I, 293 for the description of the tombs in the aisles; p. 294 for the identification of Burwold's tomb: “primus tumulus sic inscriptus est Burwoldus [superstes circa an. do. 1000].” Robinson, 95-112, also included an overview of the early published sources in his article which focused on identifying the effigies. Godwin, 359-61. He seems to have actually visited the church.

517 ffreestone,” and on the south side, opposite the tomb of Bishop Harewell, “Bishop Button, and 3 old Bishops in ffreestone.”389 A plan taken in 1654 and recorded by Browne Willis is the earliest source that expresses the locations of the tombs relative to the bay divisions.390 This shows, in the north aisle, two tombs in the westernmost bay, one tomb in the next bay to the east, and a fourth in the third bay to the east. The fourth is identified as Bishop Giso's; the other three, are labeled on the plan as abbots of Glastonbury. In the south aisle, the plan shows two effigies in the westernmost bay, and one in the second bay to the east, which is labeled for Bishop Button. The plan thus omits one of the effigies in this bay seen by the earlier visitors. This omission, and the depiction of only some of them as having effigies, shows this plan to be faulty. However, John Carter's drawings, notes, and plan probably dated c.1784 give reliable information regarding the arrangement.391 The figures on the north side included two from the older set in the westernmost bay of the north aisle (matching the pair that is currently in this bay). The two effigies from set two were both in the north aisle, one in the second bay to the east, and the other in the third bay to the east. On the south aisle

389

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BL Ms Lansdowne 213, fol. 337b. The fifth bishop on the north side was the tomb for Richard de Salop, which, however, is alabaster not freestone. Rodwell, Wells Cathedral, 6-10 summarizes the bibliography of Wells up through the end of the nineteenth century. He does not, however, mention the travelers from Norwich. Bodl Ms Willis 46, fol. 121v, an ichnography in ink of Wells Cathedral, taken from a plan of 1654. Also noted in Rodwell, Wells Cathedral, 9 and n. 21, 22. For the plan, BL Add Ms 29926, fol. 75. For the drawings, BL Add Ms 29926, fols. 83, 90. See also Bodl Gough Maps 225, fols. 43-45 for the pencil sketches of the tombs. Fols. 43 and 44 show the tombs on the north side of the choir; fol. 45 shows the four tombs on the south side. Gough, Sepulchral Monuments, vol. I, 11 and 196-7, reprints Willis's, Leland's and Godwin's comments on the tombs. Rodwell, “Anglo-Saxon,” 21, suggests that there is circumstantial evidence for there having been an eighth effigy, lost in the eighteenth century. He does not cite his proof for this statement, and the seventeenth-century sources I have seen can be reconciled with Carter's late eighteenth century evidence. Malone, 190, repeats his statement, still without explanation.

518 were (and are again today) three of the older set, as well as the engraved slab (Cat. 30), in the two westernmost bays. Carter related that they were “laid on the stone seats at the back side of the stalls.” Several published sources from the late eighteenth and early nineteenth century confirm what Carter recorded.392 With the exception of Burwold, and possibly Giso and Dudoc, names had been lost for these bishops since as early as c.1540. Even Willis, despite his deep research into diocesan history, did not at first seem inclined to assign any names to the effigies, and in fact did not even acknowledge their Wellsian provenance, preferring instead to assign them to abbots of Glastonbury. Carter did not assign names to the effigies at his first visit in 1784, and Gough repeated in print the conflicting theories of Willis and Leland that the effigies could either represent early abbots of Glastonbury or early bishops of Wells. Collinson's 1791 work did not hazard identifications. During his second visit between 1794 and 1798, however, Carter was able to repeat some specific names.393 How Carter became aware of these new possible 392

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Collinson (1791) vol. III, 399-400; Davis, 82-3 and 95; Buckler (1822); Britton, Wells, 105-6; Winkles (1836), vol. I, 96-7. Britton rather curiously described the easternmost of the southern effigies as being Purbeck marble covered with a yellow wash, and more boldly sculpted than the rest. These comments do not suit any of the surviving effigies. His further note, however, that the arms are across the body, and that the head was surrounded by a richly foliate recess makes it sound as if this easternmost effigy may have been the one now found in the middle of the three, Cat. 24 (with volutes). This canopy is certainly bolder than the rest, although he is not made of Purbeck and nor is the figure in greater relief than the others. Robinson dismisses Britton's comments as inaccurate, and certainly Carter did not draw an effigy which entirely matches Britton's description. Carter also wrote a brief list of the tombs in BL Add Ms 29932, fols. 2-5, in which he assigned names to them: in the south aisle, “3 figures of Bps of this church before the present fabrick was built the 1 st is Bp Barnold died 1003 the next above is Bp Ethelwinch died in 1023 next is Bp Brytwyn died 1021, above the last is an ancient marble with a cross on it of Bp Wm Britton he died in 1264...”, and in the north aisle “at the lower end against the back of the stalls are 4 effigies of Bps cut in stone in the same manner as they are in the south Isle. The first is for Bp Brithelm who died ano 973 the second for Bp Kinward who died 985 the 3rd for Bp Alwign in 997, the 4 th is known to belong to Bp Giso a Frenchman who died ano 1087.” While this is undated, other pages from BL Add Ms 29932 are dated 1794, and Carter was definitely back again between 1794 and 1798, commissioned by the Society of Antiquaries to take drawings for its cathedral series. The BL manuscript, with its technical measured drawings,

519 identifications is not known. Carter did not tend to carry out research, but rather to record what he saw or was told. However the information may have reached Carter, it seems that the new assigned names ultimately originated with Browne Willis. Despite Willis's earlier conjecture that these may have been abbots of Glastonbury, in a second set of his notes he gave the bishops the identifications that Carter later recorded on his drawings.394 The names entered into common use when they were published in the early nineteenth century.395 In 1848, however, the effigies were removed as part of a renewal of the choir furnishings. This is well discussed by Robinson, who had access to letters describing the nineteenth-century alterations.396 When the tombs were dismantled, boxes with remains were found inside with leaden tablets identifying the remains. As discussed by Robinson, the names on the tablets did not match the then-current identifications.397 Unfortunately,

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395 396

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probably includes notes taken on that second set of visits. See Bernard Nurse, “Bringing Truth To Light,” Making History: Antiquaries in Britain 1707–2007 (London: Royal Academy of Arts, 2007), 145 and 160-1. The drawings Carter made of Wells were not published by the LSA, but have since appeared in Rodwell and Leighton, Architectural Records of Wells by John Carter, F.S.A. 1784-1808, Somerset Record Society vol. 92 (2006). Bodl Ms Willis 38, 66-7: “In the south Isle of the Quire. Against the Back of the Quire stalls are 3 antient Effigies of Bishops of this church who presided before the building of the present fabric of that removal of it to Bath. The first or lowest of these is for Bp Burwold who died abt the year 1008. the next above him as I conjecture lie [sic] Bp Ethelwine.” He leaves out the two in the second bay, but they are included in the plan, p. 73. “In the North Isle of the Quire At the lower End against the Back of the Quire stalls are four old effigies of Bpps cutt in stone in like Manner as those on the opposite south isle. The three first or lowermost are unknown and hard to conjecture to whose memory they were erected unless were to Bp Brithelm who died A 973 and his successor Kinward who died A 985 and Alwyn who occurs Bp A 997. The upper is known to belong to Bp Giso a Frenchman.” The notes are undated, but at the beginning of the volume is the date 1727, and a letter referring to the ichnography on p. 73 is dated 1718. That Gough was the likely intermediary between Willis and Carter is possible—he often repeated information from Willis's notes in his text. He may not have realized for his 1786 publication that Willis had proposed two different conclusions, but perhaps had come across the information and relayed it to Carter later. In Davis (1809); Buckler (1822); Britton (1824); and Winkles (1836). Robinson, “Effigies.” These letters were written later in the nineteenth century. This paragraph is all summarized from Robinson. Ibid. Only five of the tombs had tablets: Eilwinus, Burhwoldus, Levericus, Dudoc and Giso. Robinson

520 knowledge of which effigy went with which lead tablet seems not to have been recorded in 1848. For the new arrangement, the new bases included carved names matching the tablets, but the effigies, apparently, were not kept with the correct remains. For example, the remains of Giso were moved further east, to bay 6 on the north side (to mimic his original burial to the north of the high altar), but his pre-1848 effigy was switched with one from the older set. The two effigies from the newer set were moved to the far end of the north aisle beyond the eastern transept, and were placed with the remains of Eilwin and Levericus. Another pair were put at the far end of the south aisle, and labeled Burwold and Dudoc. The other two effigies were evidently placed in the crypt under the chapter house, as the fabric record book of 1872 mentioned that they had been moved from the crypt into the south choir aisle, under the two western arches. In 1913, under the watch of Robinson, the effigies were put back as near as possible to the pre-1848 arrangement, and they have remained in this placement since.398 The exception was that Dudoc and Giso, now given the effigies from set 2, were placed on the north and south sides of the present high altar, imitating the original relative location of those burials to the high altar, despite the physical and documentary evidence that the effigies in the newer set were made for and previously placed in a northerly position. Additionally, if we take Britton's comment (in my n.399) to mean that the tomb with the most robust canopy on the south side was the easternmost, the second and third

398

discussed the age of these lead tablets—early thirteenth-century—with the exception of that made for Levericus, which was perhaps a replacement dating to the choir rearrangement of c.1325. In 1913, another tablet to Bishop Sigar was found in the tomb with Dudoc's tablet and remains. At the same time, an old stone with a partial inscription was found, probably belonging to the stone chest made for Bishop Burwold. Query: How did they match the remains up with the effigies again? Figuring out which effigy went where was easy enough, but not which remains.

521 effigies here are mixed around. In 1978, the tombs were again opened and the remains and lead plaques studied.399 It appears, however, that their post-1913 setting was retained. The five bishops in the first set are in deep relief but rectangular in massing. Their shoulders, neck, etc. are generally embraced by the canopy, sunken into it. The canopies and foliage are extremely prominent, and all very different. In this, they partake of the same spirit which gave rise to the great variety of foliate sculpture throughout the cathedral. The effigy said to be of Burwold (Cat. 23) is the clumsiest of the five, with heavy folds, broader shoulders and chest, and straight hems which suggest stiff, immovable cloth. His chasuble is also considerably shorter than the others, and his canopy much less developed. The others tend to have more gently sloping shoulders, narrower chests, the chasubles are longer, and their hems curve to reflect the action of soft cloth as it lays around the legs and feet. One bishop (Cat. 27, 'Levericus') has some similar features to Burwold, however, in the prominent mitre lappets and the same amice and cloth at throat. Cat. 27 is also a bit wider than the other three, though less than Burwold. The folds on his chasuble are very like the folds on the unnamed bishop, Cat. 25, as if he were a transitional work between Cat. 23 and Cat. 25. Some of the bishops received different facial features, such as more prominent lines or wrinkles, to depict age.400 Despite these differences, the five were clearly made together as one set. Their attitude of almost-repose is ambiguous and somewhat unusual. Their arms are folded in various positions across the body, as if resting, and their eyes, though hard

399

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See Rodwell, “Lead Plaques,” 407-10; Rodwell, “The Anglo-Saxon and Norman Churches,” 20-23; and Rodwell, Wells Cathedral, vol. I, 146-9. Reeve, 235-59, suggested that the sculptor deliberately intended to show these five as authoritative, “ancient and venerable.”

522 to tell, may possibly be closed.401 In some instances, the eyelids seem to be heavily lidded rather than closed, and the mouth on at least one is slightly open. Other effigies with arms similarly restfully arranged do not have closed eyes, e.g. Cat. 7, a tomb at Llandaff, and possibly Bishop Anselm's effigy at St Davids. Two of the Wells five are blessing, despite their restful pose, as are Cat. 7 and Bishop Anselm, and all five stand on a corbel base and lack a pillow. The need for the additional pair in the second set, added later, has been cause for query. The problem for most commentators has been the lower, Anglo-Saxon style mitre, and hence the suggestion that these were intentionally meant to look older. It has been suggested, first by Robinson, that the matching pair represent the last two bishops before the see was moved to Bath. He suggested that these once had effigies, and that this new pair of effigies replaced the original effigies and were carved as a copy of them-- hence the unusual and old-fashioned mitre.402 However, the mitres would have been taller at the front peak before they were damaged; the undamaged peak at the rear, against the pillow, seems to be less obviously 'archaic.' The documentary evidence may mitigate against these burials originally being adorned with full-size effigies. The term 'emiclico,' if interpreted as a burial in a small niche in the wall, does not suggest the existence of a full-length effigy. Additionally, in that time period, full-length effigies were rare, and would probably have been cause for remark in the Historiola had they existed. In the absence of documentary evidence recounting the translation of the bones from their original positions to the new places in the thirteenth-century choir, dating the

401 402

Binski, Becket's Crown, 105, notes that the eyes are closed. Robinson, 107-9.

523 effigies has to be done based on formal analysis and interpretation of historical circumstances.403 The effigies were made locally, all of Doulting stone quarried near Glastonbury.404 Most modern scholars agree that the first set is from the early years of the thirteenth century, while the second set was produced in either the second or third decade, although there is much variation within that range.405 Outliers of the group include Kemp, who suggested a later date for the earlier set, in the 1220s (and hence, although he did not state so explicitly, an even later date for the second set), and Reeve, who suggested some very early dates, before 1184 for the set of five effigies based on the fact that Doulting stone was probably quarried either before 1184 or after c.1205.406 C Malone, however, in her recent publication on Wells, disagreed with his early dating based on stylistic assessment.407 Based on drapery style, depth of relief, and density of foliate ornament, I would suggest a date in the 1210s for the first set, and the 1240s for the second set. The first set of effigies does not find an easy parallel in effigial sculpture nor in other sculpture at 403

404 405

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407

The old eastern end was demolished in the 1190s, so the bones must have been moved out of the building at that date (Rodwell, Wells Cathedral, vol. I, 135-47). When and how they were replaced in the new eastern end is not known. Reeve, 235-59; Rodwell, “Anglo-Saxon and Norman Church,” 17; idem, Wells Cathedral, vol. 1, 146. Robinson, 108, said the first five effigies are from the first or second decade of the thirteenth century, the second pair to about the year 1230. Andersson, 18, n.1, believed that Prior and Gardner's date for the oldest set of bishops was early, “and may rather be fixed at the first or second decade of the thirteenth century.” Stone, 104-5, suggested the earlier group is work of the first decade of the thirteenth century, the second group either the second or third decade. Tudor-Craig, “Wells Sculpture,” 102-131, gave for the first set a date of c.1200, the second coming “slightly later” in the thirteenth century, by comparison to figures on the west front and to an effigy at Glastonbury. Rodwell, “AngloSaxon and Norman Church,” 17-20; idem, Wells Cathedral, 146-7, gave the first set a date of c.1200, and the second “not carved before c.1230.” Sampson, 77, dated the first set to c.1206-09, and the second set from c.1220. Malone, 190-200, dated the first set to c.1207, and the second to c.1220. Since the two sets are separated in date, it is common to find a reason for the gap, e.g. the Interdict (Sampson, Malone) or the difficulty of procuring stone from the Doulting quarry (Reeve). Kemp, 19, based on the stiff-leaf decoration, the high relief, and the deeply cut folds of the vestments. Reeve dated the second set to shortly after 1205, the earliest date that they had yet been given. Malone, 190-200.

524 Wells. Stylistically, the early set has no relationship to the massive sculptural program of the west front, and figure sculpture in the cathedral is very rare prior to this program.408 Wells does, however, exhibit a great amount of innovation in stiff-leaf patterns, at all stages of its construction, and the foliate ornaments on the effigies should be considered as part of this spirit of innovation.409 Malone suggested that the foliage on the first set is similar to the inner piers of the north porch, and the figure sculpture to the miniature corbel figures on the transept triforium (although the bishops are considerably more severe than the lively figures in the capitals). To these I would add that there is a similarity in character also to the western arcade piers of the north and south transepts.410 The set of five seems to have been carved by a sculptor who specialized in foliage rather than the human figure. The dating of the architectural sculpture depends on the chronology of the building work, and on this there has been some disagreement.411 It

408

409

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411

Andersson, 18, who rather vehemently stated that there are no links between them; see also Sampson, 77. Tudor-Craig, “Wells Sculpture,” 111-14, dates the west front from c.1225-1248; see also Sampson, 11-60; Malone, 17-26; and Tudor-Craig, “Introduction,” Courtauld Institute Illustration Archives (hereafter CIIA), Archive 1, pt. 2. Reeve, however, compares the exuberant canopies to the c.1000 Warsaw Gospels and other AngloSaxon work. He suggests the intent was to deliberately refer to the past. Malone, 191, n. 9; but AC Fryer, “Monumental Effigies in Somerset,” likened the foliage on the retrospective effigies to the capitals in the choir, and Reeve preferred a comparison to the eastern capitals of the transept. The hair on the bishops is similar to a figure on capital of pier 22c (south transept, CIIA 1/6/75), and the facial structure is somewhat like another figure on the same capital and like Moses on the capital of pier 21c (north transept, CIIA 1/6/59). A corbel figure on the west wall of the triforium of the north transept (CIIA 1/6/53) has similar hair and facial structure to the effigies. The fact that Doulting stone was not used for much of the transepts has led Sampson and Rodwell to date the building progress at this stage to the point at which the Doulting stone may have been unavailable to the masons, i.e. after the fire at Glastonbury Abbey in 1184. The masons switched to Chilcote stone, although Doulting was retained for the capitals and other decorative sculpture. Therefore they date the transepts west of the east aisle from c.1184-c.1205, and the eastern nave bays c.1205-10. To have reached the transepts by the 1180s would mean that the start date for the eastern end would have to have been earlier (1170s) than previously proposed. To this, based on stylistic comparisons with other west country buildings, Malone objects. She dates the start of the eastern end to c.1186 (which means the fire at Glastonbury was not a deciding factor for the availability of stone.) The transept she dates to the 1190s, with the eastern bays of the nave underway by 1206. She does not explain the switch to Chilcote stone. Her reinterpretation of the documentary evidence supports her

525 appears, however, that the effigies were completed after the detail work in the transepts and east nave, which suggests a date around 1210. While a date any later than 1210 does not fit well with the building chronology,412 1210 seems early in terms of the chronology of tomb development. The position of the arms across the chest and the lack of undercutting of the figures find some comparison in the effigy in the chancel at Exeter (Cat. 7), dated to the early 1220s. The depth of the canopies and the appearance of seated angels at the head of Cat. 26 also indicate a later date; these are features which appear much more frequently in the 1250s.413 The effigies in the second set have similarities to several sculptures on the west front, dated from the 1220s to 1240s.414 The drapery, in particular, has parallels among the angels in the lower tier quatrefoils, and in some of the standing figures of bishops in the statue niches.415 In profile, they are closest to the third type of west front figure that

412

413

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thesis that the effigies were an early effort by Jocelin to move the see to Wells, and dates them to c.1207. The comparanda, then, in the architectural work either dates to the late 1180s or the mid to late 1190s, depending on which chronology is chosen. There are, in Malone's analysis, two points in the history of construction which bear signs of Bishop Jocelin's campaign to move the seat to Wells, of which we should see the effigies as a part: shortly after his election (hence her date of c.1207 for the tombs) and around 1219, when an inquiry into the history of the see was requested by the papal legate and when construction on his bishop's palace was begun. While she sees the effigies as an early development in his campaign, it is possible that they were a response to the 1219 inquiry. This later date, however, does not square with the building chronology. Additionally, the two angels either side of the effigy in Cat. 26 have drapery similar to the v-shaped folds of the censing angels on the west front above the main door, dated to the early 1220s: C.385, 386, CIIA 1/4/168-9. Tudor-Craig, “Introduction,” CIIA, vol. 1, pt. 4, p. iv, said these portal angels “must have been carved at the first stage of work on the west front.” See also Malone, 23 and Sampson, 82, where he allowed that the angels over the door on the west front are closer in style to the early set of effigies than they are to other sculpture on the west front. Tudor-Craig stated that, however, the portal angels are not directly related to the earlier set of effigies. Tudor-Craig, “Wells Sculpture,” 111-15. See also Sampson, 60, who suggests a narrower set of dates, from c.1235-1243. But Tudor-Craig, “Wells Sculpture,” 124, stated that the later set of effigies were “certainly not by the same hands” as the west front sculptures. See, e.g., the following statues [using numbering system in Sampson and in the Courtauld Illustration Archives]: c.288, CIIA 1/2/152 [angel]; c.300, CIIA 1/2/161 [angel]; c.217, CIIA 1/4/128 [full length figure, middle tier]; and, especially, c.141, CIIA 1/2/78, the figure on the right [full length, upper tier, north tower]. Similarly oval faces are found on c.125, CIIA 1/2/63 [knight, upper tier, north tower east

526 Sampson illustrates, most often found in the upper tier.416 Comparison to other effigial sculpture shows more of an affinity with a later date within that range. The drapery, with its rounded nested curves and interlocking folds, is typical of effigies of the 1240s (e.g. Cat. 19). The bold slab of the chasuble is similar to Cat. 4 at Ely, Cat. 2 at Carlisle and Cat. 12 at Lichfield, all from the 1250s. The curve of the chest, and the gathering of tubular folds of drapery around the legs are also similar to these three mid-century effigies. The slightly off-axis curve of the folds down the front of the figure speaks to the slightly more fluid drapery style found on Cats. 20 and 36, at Salisbury and York. Additionally, the lack of a canopy or innovative foliage, the very high pillow, and the undercutting of the figures from the slab speak to a date later than the previouslysuggested 1220s. A date in the 1240s or around 1250 is possible. The question remains as to why it would have been thought necessary to add these two effigies to the existing set as such a late date. Malone's analysis of the documentary evidence suggests however that although Wells held the see in name by 1219, the struggle over the election of Jocelin's successor after 1242 indicates that the situation was not entirely settled.417 The commission of the extra pair of effigies may have occurred to strengthen Wells' position; they could have been put into place as Jocelin himself was being buried in the choir.

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face, with beard)]; c. 323, CIIA 1/2/168 [deacon, east face lower tower north tower]. Sampson, 163. The profile, taken from statue 163, is what he calls the “standard upper tier type.” The effigies protrude slightly more at the chest, and sink back towards the slab more around the lower parts of the legs. They are also shorter than the west front figures. Malone, 196-200. She prefers, however, the date of c.1220, seeing the tombs as part of the second thrust of a campaign put into place by Jocelin but interrupted by his exile during the Interdict.

527 Cat. 30 Current location: south choir aisle, second bay east of the crossing, easternmost of two tombs in this bay Identification: Bishop Bitton II (d.1274) Measurements: As the slab is inaccessible because of a protective cover, these dimensions are approximate: Width at head, 55 cm (taken across upper surface of slab); width at head (taken at base of slab), approx. 79 cm. Width at foot (taken across upper surface of slab), approx. 30 cm; width at foot (at base of slab), approx. 48 cm. Length (taken across upper surface of slab), 178 cm. Length (taken at bottom of slab), approx. 196 cm. Major features: A flat tapered slab of a dark, non-shelly stone, with an effigy of a bishop incised on the surface. The edges of the slab slope rather dramatically and display a complicated profile defined by a series of roll and chamfer moldings divided by deep hollows. The slab was clearly raised up off, rather than flush with, the floor. Seen from above, the upper face of the slab is outlined by a roll molding and an incised line. There is no room for an inscription unless it was placed in one of the hollow chamfers along the slab's edges. The figure of the bishop stands under a trefoiled inner arch capped by a gable decorated with summary crockets and a finial. In the top corners of the slab, above the gable, there are wavy lines representing clouds, and angels emerging from them to sprinkle the bishop with incense. The angels (the one above the bishop's right shoulder is

528 the most complete) have wings, their heads are in profile, with a halo behind, and their hands reach out to hold the chains of a thurible. The chains, rendered by wiggly lines, cross the front of the gable and the bowls swing down on either side of the bishop's mitre. The bishop's right arm is raised up above the right shoulder in a gesture of blessing. The left rests in front of his stomach, holding a crosier. The bishop's face is heavily damaged, with only his right ear and part of his chin and hair clearly visible. He is clean-shaven, and the hair below the mitre is incised in long, flowing ropy strands. The mitre has raised bands to the peak and across the base. The amice also has raised bands along the edges of the apparel, and soft cloth is visible at the throat. The folds of the chasuble, which begin towards the neck, are broad and unevenly spaced, with interlocking, rather than nested, folds, typical of effigies from the second half of the thirteenth century. The alb has a panel patterned with lozenge diaper at the bottom, and the maniple has similarly decorated fabric as well as holes indicating jewels. The bishop's feet were not included in the effigy; the figure stops at the hem of the alb. The staff of the crosier thus ends uncertainly in the blank space below the alb. The head of the crosier is damaged. History, identification, and scholarship: A tomb assigned to a Bishop Bitton (Button, Bytton) has been in this location from at least 1540. There were two thirteenth-century bishops at Wells by the name of William Bitton (the first d.1264, the second d.1274), and this tomb over time has been assigned to each. The earliest references to the tomb, however, match with the medieval documentary record, and help secure the identification of the tomb to William Bitton II.

529 Leland in c.1540 reported that a tomb to Bishop Bytton, whom the common people thought was saintly, stood in the south aisle of the choir near to three tombs of ancient bishops.418 As he stated elsewhere that the tomb to “Bishop Bytton primus” was in the Lady Chapel, he clearly thought the tomb in the south aisle belonged to Bitton II. Leland did not describe the tomb, but Godwin, in 1601, confirmed that in the choir aisle was a “Marble stone, having a pontificall image graven upon it,” made for Bishop Bitton II.419 He too commented on the supposed sanctity of this bishop, stating that “even of late yeeres” “superstitious” people were visiting the grave. The confusion over attribution occurred by the eighteenth century, when writers occasionally switched the identification of the tomb's occupant to the earlier bishop. Willis, who copied a plan made in 1654 into his notes, recorded in the second bay of the south choir aisle, near the retrospective effigies, a tomb with effigy labeled for Bishop Bitton. He ascribed another tomb, near the entrance to the Lady Chapel, to the second Bitton.420 Carter's visit in c.1784 produced the earliest known sketch of the tomb.421 Carter did not record an identification of the tomb in his first visit, but in c.1794, he made a note of a tomb near the Lady Chapel which he, like Willis, associated with the second 418 419

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Leland, vol. I, 293. Godwin, 368. However, he incorrectly stated it was in the north aisle of the choir rather than the south. Lieutenant Hammond, visiting in 1634, merely noted the presence of a tomb to a Bishop Button in the south choir aisle, without describing it or specifying which of the two Buttons, although he did confirm the placement: BL Lansdowne 213, fol. 337b, opposite the tomb of Bishop Harewell was “Bishop Button, and 3 old Bishops in ffreestone.” Bodl Ms Willis 46, fol. 121v, an ichnography in ink, taken from a plan of 1654. He repeated this in Bodl Ms Willis 38 (undated), 66-7, and additional plan p. 73. The plan shows 4 old bishops, the “upper,” i.e. easternmost, for Bishop Bitton. For the other tomb: “At the upper end of the South Isle on the south side the Entrance to the lady Chapll is a neat Tomb arched at Top for Bp Will: Bitton the 2d who died in Nov 1274.” BL Add Ms 29926, fol. 83, drawn for Gough, but apparenlty never engraved for his publication. He noted that it was in the south aisle, and under the lower of the four effigies drawn on this folio, he has written “this stone is only the lines cut in a black slab.” See also the drawing in Bodl Gough Maps 225, fol. 45, of the same four bishops' effigies.

530 Bishop Bitton.422 So Carter, as with the retrospective effigies, followed Willis in identifying the Bitton tombs. Gough, however, printed in 1786 that the incised slab was that of Bitton II: “On the South side of the choir, in a coffin-fashioned marble stone is a figure of a bishop pontifically habited, with his mitre, maniple, and crosier, his right hand giving the blessing; two angels in the spandrils of his pediment censing him. This is the monument of William Bitton, or Button, second of the name, bishop of this see, which he filled from 1267 to 1274.”423 Collinson, whose history of the county was published in 1791, concurred with Gough. The confusion, however, continued into the nineteenth century, with Davis and Buckler attributing it to the first bishop, and Britton and Coney attributing it to the second.424 Each of these sources, however, correspond in their consistent placement of the tomb in the second bay east of the crossing, in the south choir aisle, where it can be found today. If it was moved at all in the 1848 restoration it was only moved slightly.425 It is still in or near its original position today. Incised effigies of high-ranking ecclesiastics are rare. Another, dating approximately to the same time, is found on the tomb of Prior Basing at Winchester, who

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Add Ms 29932, fols. 2-5, in the south aisle “above the last [3 bishops] is an ancient marble with a cross [sic] on it of Bp Wm Britton he died in 1264...” Further east, “At the upper end of the south Isle on the south side the entrance into the Lady chapel is a great tomb arched a top now taken down for Bp Wm Bitton died in Novr 1274.” Gough, Sepulchral Monuments, vol. I, 197, but see also p. 58, “in the south aile of the choir at Wells, on an altar tomb, is the figure of Bishop Button, second of that name, with a lion at his feet” [date in margin, 1274]. There is no lion at the feet of the incised effigy, and whether it was on an altar tomb or on the floor is unknown. He may have confused this with a different effigy. For Collinson, vol. III, 382. Davis (1809) and Buckler (1822) said it was made for Bitton I. But Britton, Wells (1824), stated it was for Bitton II, as did the revised edition of Dugdale, Monasticon (citing Collinson and Gough). Winkles (1836), showed a tomb in the right place, but labeled it mistakenly to Bishop Harewell. Roland Paul, plan dated 1891, printed in Rodwell, Wells Cathedral, vol. I, fig. 3. None of the plans indicate whether the slab was raised up on a base or left on the floor, as it is today.

531 died c.1264 (Cat. 60). Stylistically, the incised bishop's effigy could belong to either of the two Bittons, as they only died ten years apart, but the medieval and post-medieval documentation tends towards the second bishop by that name. According to the Wells Historia Major, William Bitton I was buried “in nova capella beate Marie virginis.”426 The second Bitton is recorded as having, in 1271, made provisions for a chaplain to say mass daily for the soul of his uncle, Bitton I, at the altar of St Mary, “where his body lies.”427 The second Bitton was “in australi parte chori Wellie quiescit humatus, ubi ad presens multis claris fulget miraculis” according to the Historia Major.428 His brother, who also held key posts at Wells, may have served as one of his executors.429 The second Bishop Bitton's reputation for sanctity, as noted in the Historia Major, is confirmed by other medieval sources, such as William of Worcester in the fifteenth century, and apparently, according to Godwin, lasted well into the sixteenth century.430 Rogers suggests that the incised slab may have been a temporary choice, and that, since the bishop was considered saintly, it may have been hoped that soon he would be canonized 426

427

428 429

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Palmer, ed., Collectanea I, 67. The Historia Major is from the Wells Liber Albus. The tomb for the first Bishop Bitton is most frequently described as a marble tomb, e.g. “blue marble” in 1634; Godwin, 368, “under a marble tomb.” Robinson, “Documentary Evidence Relating to the Building of the Cathedral Church of Wells,” Archaeological Journal 85 (1928), 9, citing information from the Rolls. We know that there was a chapel to Mary behind the high altar (as well as off of the cloister) because of mention of both in a document by the executors of Bitton II dated 1279. Robinson then surmised that “As this bishop's remains actually rest in the Lady Chapel of to-day, it seems reasonable to suppose that their original resting place in 1264 was the earlier Lady Chapel behind the high altar,” i.e. before the remodeling in the early fourteenth century. A prelate's burial was found in the center of Lady Chapel in 1727. Draper, “The Sequence and Dating of the Decorated Work at Wells,” 18-29, notes a reference to the chantry of Bitton I at the altar of St Mary in 1319. Palmer, ed., Collectanea I, 67. The Bittons had a strong presence at Wells. Besides the two bishops, who were uncle and nephew, Thomas de Button, brother of William Button II, was archdeacon of Wells in 1263, and precentor from 1266. Although he resigned this position in 1267, he is recorded as dean of Wells from 1284-92, then bishop of Exeter until his death. At Exeter he was buried in the eastern chapel under a large slab. He was therefore probably present to bury his brother at Wells (Palmer, ed., Collectanea, III, 75). William of Worcester, 79; Godwin, 638.

532 and translated to a more elaborate monument.431

WINCHESTER Winchester has four tombs from the thirteenth century with effigies (two bishops and possibly two priors, for which see Cats. 59 and 60). The rest are variations on the table tomb format with a Purbeck lid. The effigies show no consistency in design.

Cat. 31 Current location: hung on the east wall of the north choir aisle, next to St Gabriel's chapel Identification: Bishop Aymer de Valence (d. 1260), based on style and heraldry Major features: A Purbeck slab with a demi-effigy framed by a mandorla. The slab is approximately two-thirds the length of a full-length tomb slab, and is tapered and chamfered at the sides and bottom. Three large shields are prominently displayed: a shield with three lions (arms of England) is carved in low relief in the top left spandrel; the shield in the top right spandrel displays an eagle with large talons; at the bottom tip of the mandorla a third shield made of horizontal stripes overlaps the lower edge of the slab. The mandorla's outer molding is embraced by five sprigs of trilobed foliage which grow outwards, away from the figure. Two more bunches of foliage adorn the two lower corners of the slab, and there is further foliage where the third shield meets the torso. The

431

Rogers, “English Episcopal Monuments,” 50, with an image. See also Badham, “'A new feire peynted stone'” on incised slabs in general.

533 bust of the bishop is inside the mandorla and placed under a nodding trefoiled canopy which curves to fit within the shape of the mandorla. The canopy is supported by engaged colonnettes, with rounded capitals and bases, which also curve to fit the mandorla. There are additional sprigs of foliage along the trefoiled molding, and the gable over the canopy features foliate stops and crockets. The foliage, canopy, and bishop’s figure are finely carved in high relief. He wears a mitre; it and his face are much damaged, but soft gentle contours to the cheek and side of the face are still visible. He has large ears and discrete locks of curls arranged in clumps across the forehead, escaping from underneath the mitre. His head rests on a diagonally placed pillow, one of the first to appear in English funerary monuments. His arms are folded in front of him as he holds something in front of his chest, presumably a heart. Some damage to the object makes its shape unclear, although an 1841 engraving makes it an elongated oval, and in this it is similar to other memorials with similar iconography.432 The folds across the front of his chasuble are unevenly spaced, but the fabric does not yet exhibit the distinctive broad-fold style of the later part of the century. The folds are pointed, both in arrangement and in profile, crisply carved and angular in nature, and more robust than the refined, rather soft and rounded folds seen on earlier effigies. Below his arms, the cloth breaks in great angular planes, and at the front, they break in uneven and varied sharp Vs. A maniple hangs over his left arm. The crosier is on the figure's left, tucked into the crook of his arm, with the foliate head touching the cusp of the trefoil.

432

Hollis and Hollis, pt. IV, March 1 1841. See Tummers, Secular Effigies, for other examples of ladies holding similar objects.

534 The upper part of the slab, above the tip of the head, was once broken off but is now reunited with the rest of the slab. Despite some damage to the surface of the bishop's face and mitre, and to the object he holds, the slab is in excellent condition and exhibits extremely high-quality carving. History, identification and scholarship: The slab has been moved around frequently, but is associated with the heart burial for Bishop Aylmer de Valence (d.1260), which seems to have been on the north side of the choir as commemorated in an inscription on the 1525 choir screen.433 He died in Paris, but the Winchester annals note that his heart was brought to Winchester for burial in April of 1261, and was buried decently near the high altar, where miracles were recorded.434 At some later date, probably when the choir screen was put into place but certainly by 1715, the effigy was separated from the burial. Gale, writing in 1715, appears to be the earliest commentator on the monument and noted the two sites associated with Aylmer's burial: “Under the stairs leading up to the Organ, there is a Bust (by Tradition) of Ethelmarus the Bishop, who died A.C.1261, who, nevertheless, seems to have been interred in another place, for I find his heart was buried in the south wall of the presbytery, where this inscription is still visible.” Gale is incorrect, however, in placing the original burial place and inscription in the south wall. In this he was perhaps parroting Godwin.435 Milner, in 1798, and Ball, in 1818, both 433

434

435

“Obiit Anno Domini 1261. Corpus Ethelmari cujus Cor nunc tenet istud saxum parisiis morte datur Tumulo.” Ann. Mon., vol. II, 99 (for year 1261): “xiii kal Aprilis delatum est cor Audomari, quondam episcopi Wyntoniensis, apud Wyntoniam, et juxta magnum altare decenter humatum, ubi plurima coruscant miracula.” See ibid., 98 (for year 1260) for his death in Paris. See however Wharton, vol. I, 286, who said that the body (corpus, not cor) of the bishop was buried on the north side of the altar. Gale, 24 and 29; Godwin, 177. Confusingly, Gale brings up the effigy under the stairs again on p. 32,

535 correctly situate it on the north side.436 As Gale noted, the effigy was by 1715 under the stairs to the organ, which was placed above the Holy Sepulchre chapel on the north side of the choir.437 Carter in 1784 produced the first known drawing of the effigy, showing it with the top part sheared off, standing vertically next to a step, and labeled as near the Sepulchre chapel.438 It was still there in 1798, described by Milner as not fixed in place.439 The view of the east end of the nave drawn for Britton's 1817 publication shows the monument, still without its top, casually leaning against a Norman pier on the north side of the east end of the nave, near the steps leading up to the central choir screen.440 By 1818, the effigy was described as “lately removed,” probably for restoration work.441 The next known image, an undated drawing by Blore, shows the slab married to

436

437

438

439

440

441

but here he seems to want to reassign the effigy to represent a prior: “on the north side, under the stairs which lead to the Organ, was found some few years since, the Heart (as is supposed) of Hugh le Brune, sometime Prior of St Swithun’s, in a box of Tin. His effigies in stone is now upon the place where the heart was deposited.” Milner, History, Civil and Ecclesiastical, 72; Ball, 112 and 130. Wharton, vol. I, 286, also indicated the north side. Ball, 107, said that a new organ was erected in 1796, under the north arch of the tower, but that an organ had been in that location since Charles I. This is certainly where it stood in 1801 when James Cave produced a watercolor view of the interior of the choir, and there was a prolonged debate about whether to re-site the organ in the early nineteenth century (see Barrett, “Georgian and Victorian Restorations and Repairs 1775-1900,” Winchester Cathedral, ed. John Crook, 316-19). Exactly where the stairs to the organ were is unclear, but Milner described the Holy Sepulchre chapel, like the monument, as being under the organ stairs. BL Add Ms 29926, fol. 26. See also an undated and unlabeled sketch, Bodl Gough Maps 225, fol. 381, in ink, pencil, and color wash. This view of the demi-effigy is also missing its upper part, broken off at the tip of the head. It appears to be upright against a wall. Milner, History, Civil and Ecclesiastical, 73: “Under the organ stairs is a mutilated bust in stone, of a bishop or conventual prior, with his heart in his hands; which, from the form of the arch over it, is seen to be much more ancient than the tomb of Waynflete.” Britton, Winchester, pl. XI. In his description for this plate on p. 11, Britton says “At the base of this pier is seen a piece of sculpture, representing a half-length figure of a bishop, beneath a trefoil canopy, with his hands clasped in front, and with a shield resting against his knees.” Ball, 119. Confusingly, he stated that until recently it had stood in mutilated condition “against the wall of the south-east turret,” which, if accurate, implies there had been another temporary move in between 1817 and 1818. He did not give its new position.

536 a stylistically inappropriate top designed by William Garbett to make it whole.442 Unfortunately, Blore's view does not show its architectural context, but after its 'restoration' it was probably moved into its current location in the northeast corner of the retrochoir.443 In 1912, the missing original upper portion was discovered and reattached, and during this process, workers discovered a leaden coffer in which the heart likely originally had been placed and which had been moved with the effigy to the new location.444 Gale attributed the effigy to two different people, Bishop Aylmer and Prior Hugh le Brun, based on an earlier find of a heart burial to a prior in the same area as the effigy had at one time been placed. Milner attempted quasi-stylistic reasoning to conclude that of the two, Aylmer was the more likely identification, “because the turn of the arch agrees with the time of Ethelmar, but not with either of the cathedral priors who bore the name of Hugh. Secondly, this bust is not fixed, but has been removed from another place; probably from that where the heart rests, and where it stood until Fox rebuilt the choir. Lastly, the attitude of offering up the heart seems to correspond with the dying wish of Ethelmar, but has no relation that we can discover, with the history of the priors.”445 Britton came to the same conclusion, based on the “style of the arch and sculpture ... for Ethelmar lived in the time of Henry the Third.” Lindley, the first modern scholar to address stylistic issues, noted the clarity and crispness of the carving, the innovation of 442

443

444

445

Blore, BL Add Ms 42009, fol. 2. The new canopy was cinquefoiled rather than a trefoil. A view published by Hollis and Hollis, pt. IV, March 1 1841, shows the monument still without its top, although this may have been an editorial decision to not include the recent addition. Vaughan, 35, and Lindley, “The Medieval Sculpture,” 102, both say this occurred in 1818, cf. the supposition of GH Blore, 8, that the move occurred c.1810. Vaughan, 35-7; GH Blore, 8; and Lindley, “The Medieval Sculpture,” 102. Lindley says this was found in 1911, although the older texts say 1912. Milner, History, Civil and Ecclesiastical, 72-3.

537 the style, and its similarity to the effigy of Bridport (d.1262; Cat. 20) at Salisbury. Based on date, and the fact that his predecessor was not buried in the cathedral, he concluded that Bishop Aymer/Ethelmar is the choice that makes sense from a stylistic standpoint. The find of the upper two heraldic shields in the early twentieth century helps to confirm the attribution to Bishop Aylmer.446 Gough, who noted the presence of the lower shield, thought the entire monument belonged to a knight (and thereby negated all his own statements regarding the importance of careful visual analysis).447 Blore in 1936 suggested that this is perhaps the earliest instance of heraldry on a tomb. Nicholas Vincent added that, despite not being a favorite in the chronicles and despite mostly being an absentee bishop, the bishop's tomb was “venerated as a shrine. Miracles are said to have occurred there in the immediate aftermath of his heart's burial in 1262, and money, presumably votive offerings, was still being collected from the tomb more than a decade later.”448

Cat. 32 Current location: north choir aisle Identification: unidentified, perhaps Nicholas of Ely (d.1280) or John of Pontoise (d.1304) Measurements: Length (as is, without head or lower legs), approx. 150 cm. Width of slab from arm to arm (the widest surviving point), 63 cm; width of slab at bottom, 446

447 448

As noted in Lindley, “The Medieval Sculpture,” 102, GH Blore, 9, and in Nicholas Vincent, DNB: “decorated with the arms of Lusignan, of Henry III, and of Henry's brother, Richard, earl of Cornwall, king of Germany (d. 1272).” Gough, Sepulchral Monuments, vol. I, 53. Nicholas Vincent, DNB

538 approx. 56 cm. Major features: Purbeck torso of an effigy on its slab, heavily damaged and separated from its coffin or chest. It currently rests on the floor. Its original base seems to now be in the Holy Sepulchre chapel joined with a thirteenth-century Purbeck slab with relief sculpture of a foliate cross. The effigy's head and top portion of the slab are broken off and missing, as is the portion of slab below the knees. The body fills the surface area of the chamfered slab, leaving no space for colonnettes or other decoration on either side of the body; it is possible also that there was no corresponding canopy over the head. The shoulders are wide, and the figure rather rectangular in overall massing and section. He wears a chasuble, the folds down the center of which fall in an irregular series of interlocking curves. The sculptor understood the way in which the material of the chasuble would fall over the arms and lay against the body in multiple folds, a feature which appears in late thirteenth-century effigies and seals. His right hand is raised with two (broken) fingers extended in blessing; the left arm is lowered and presumably once held a crosier. The wide massing of the figure and the flat, angular folds found on this effigy are also visible on the effigy of priest at Cirencester (Cat. 40), and to some degree an effigy at Rochester (Cat. 14). History, identification and scholarship: Antiquarian evidence shows that this tomb was in the south transept, next to the tomb of Prior Basing (d.c.1264; Cat. 60), from at least 1635 until c.1817. The earliest

539 evidence comes from Lieutenant Hammond's visit in 1635, during which he noted that “In the south of the Crosse Ile, lyes an old Bishop in Marble, ffounder of the Organs; and by him, wch was the last I saw, was the Monument of the last Pryor, & ffirst Deane heere, his Name, Basing.”449 Quirk suggested that since Hammond calls him a bishop, the head with mitre may have been surviving then. Samuel Gale probably saw it there in 1715: “Going down from the South-Door of the Quire, at the Bottom of the Steps, on the left hand, are two old Monuments; the one hath no Inscription; the other has [an inscription to Prior Basing]....”.450 The first specific evidence we have that Hammond's “old Bishop in Marble” in the south transept is this particular effigy comes from John Carter's sketch dated 1784. Carter's sketch (though very roughly executed) shows the effigy still on its tomb chest, but reveals extensive damage at the bottom of the effigy and at the top, where a few sketchy lines indicate the ghost of a head with a mitre. The drapery folds around the arms and torso are shown accurately by Carter. The tombs are shown abutting each other, the damaged effigy to the north of Basing's.451 A 1798 plan published by John Milner shows that they were freestanding, just to the south of the steps to the south choir aisle from the south transept, and his text explains, “Without this [northeastern] chapel, on the left hand, near the stone steps, that lead up to the iron gate

449

450 451

BL Ms Lansdowne 213, fol. 364b-5b. Quirk's article, “The Monuments of Prior Basing and the 'Old Bishop in Marble',” brings together most of the following evidence. Quirk investigated the epithet “founder of the organs” but could find no evidence explaining its use by Hammond. Gale, 36. Carter BL Add Ms 29926, fol. 14, “south view of two tombs in the south transept of Winchester cathedral taken 1784.” Carter's tidier ink wash of the same date, Bodl. Gough Maps 225, fol. 130, includes the pavement, and it looks as if the two monuments are up on a step. Glued on to this folio is another sheet of paper that has in pencil and ink the birds-eye view of the Basing slab next to this effigy. A note here incorrectly suggests the damaged effigy might be “Willm De Basynge his predecessor who died AD 1284.” The BL sketch is reproduced in Quirk. Gough, Sepulchral Monuments, vol. I, 63, has an engraved view of Carter's sketch.

540 [? to the south choir aisle], are two stone coffins with their lids upon them, standing quite out of the ground.”452 The monuments in the south transept were moved to the retrochoir by 1817 during a renovation campaign headed by Prebendary Nott.453 At this point the headless effigy and its tomb chest may have been separated, as argued by Quirk. The base from the south transept was married to a lid from the north transept, the pair forming a composite tomb as described by Britton and Ball, which was located in a position parallel to the Basing monument in the bay to the east of the choir.454 The broken effigy was moved to the same bay as the composite tomb and Basing's tomb, but on the floor against the north wall, as Ball noted an extremely mutilated effigy there in 1818 without head or feet.455 Milner in 1798 said the tomb “with a mutilated statue upon it we are left to conjecture belonged to an ancient prior.”456 Quirk commented more fully on this possibility, though he noted that the unstable nature of the office of Prior at Winchester in the years during Prior Basing's rule makes it likely that this is a monument to a prior who

452

453

454

455 456

Milner, History, Civil and Ecclesiastical, vol. ii, 31; Milner, 1809, An Historical and Critical Account of Winchester Cathedral (with plan), 46: The text is in the section about the south transept. Ball, 116, noted in 1818 that the Basing tomb and “its parallel” were lately moved. See also Britton, Winchester, 77, 84-5, and Dugdale, Monasticon, vol. I; Quirk, 15; Lindley, “Medieval Sculpture,” 1024. Quirk suggested the effigy was marginalized because of its poor condition, and its base fitted with a more suitable lid and placed in a more prominent position in the retrochoir. The composite tomb as described in Britton, 124, and Ball, 129, had a slab with a raised relief cross from the north transept and a coffin chest from the south. This coffin chest Ball and Quirk took to be the chest on which the headless effigy had originally rested in the south transept. In the 1870s, the composite monument was moved in front of the Holy Sepulchre chapel, perhaps based on Milner's comment in 1798 that the cross slab was originally “in front of” that chapel. If the tomb now at the Holy Sepulchre chapel is a composite, it is a very good fit. Ball, 129. Milner, History, Civil and Ecclesiastical, vol. ii, 31-2.

541 died in the early 1300s.457 A brief note on a sketch pasted in Gough's papers suggests an identification as another Prior Basing, though the existence of a second Prior Basing appears to have been a mistake perpetuated in the antiquarian tradition.458 Blore, in 1936, also thought a prior was represented by the effigy.459 However, the iconography, or at least as much as can be seen on such a damaged figure, suggests a bishop rather than a prior, particularly the right hand offering blessing. Burials of bishops at Winchester in the late thirteenth century were few in number: William de Raleigh (d.1250) died at Tours and was buried in the church of St Martin.460 The heart memorial for Aymer de Valence (d.1260) is securely attributed (see Cat. 31). Bishop John of Exeter (d.1268) died and was buried in Italy.461 The two remaining options are Bishop Nicholas of Ely (d.1280), whose body was buried at Waverley, although his heart was buried in Winchester on the south side of the choir, now marked by an inscription on the 1525 screen462; and John of Pontoise, d.1304, who was buried at Winchester on the north side of the high altar, where a tomb under the 1525 screen is still

457 458

459 460

461

462

Quirk, 19. Bodl Gough Maps 225, fol. 130. Gale, 24, seems to be the first to note in print the existence of two priors Basing. The Fasti for Winchester only recognizes one Basing. GH Blore, 13-14. Ann. Mon., vol. II, 92 (Winchester Annals for 1250); Paris, Chronica Majora, vol. V, 178-9; but as noted in Lindley, “Medieval Sculpture,” 120, n.26, Wharton, vol. I, 307, stated that he was buried at Pontigny. Ann. Mon., vol. II, 106 (Winchester Annals for 1268), says he died at Viterbo; Ann. Mon., vol. IV, 457 (Worcester Annals), says he was also buried there. Ann. Mon., vol. II, 54 and 393 (Waverly and Winchester Annals) and Ann. Mon., vol. IV, 477 (Worcester Annals). The Winchester Annals do not extend this far in date, and the Liber Historialis and the chronicle printed by Wharton omit mention of Bishop Nicholas's burial place. However, the inscription on the 1525 choir screen tells of his heart burial in Winchester, and a fifteenth-century chronicle written by the monks of Winchester mentions a heart burial for him below one of the raised mortuary chests around the choir, to the west, and below one of the coffers, as noted in Crook, “St Swithun of Winchester,” 63 and his n. 26. As further proof of Bishop Nicholas's heart burial location, Vaughan, 38, noted that in 1887, a vase with the heart was found near the inscription on the screen. This was identified by a lead plaque with inscription, older than the date of the screen.

542 in evidence.463 Lindley described the drapery as being in a flat, sharp-fold style, which “suggests that it is one of a number executed c.1265-90.”464 My own observations of the sculptural handling of the excess cloth below the arms on episcopal seals as well as effigies confirm Lindley's dates, and make, in my opinion, Nicholas of Ely the best candidate. This effigy may thus have once been located in the choir to mark Bishop Nicholas's heart burial, just as the Purbeck memorial to Bishop Aymer de Valence seems to have done, and was moved in 1525 when the new screen was put into place. Lindley suggested that John of Exeter might be a better candidate, but we have no evidence that a memorial to that bishop was ever placed in the cathedral.465 The great similarity of character of this effigy to another in Ely (see Cat. 5) suggests that both are of similar date. At Ely, the two most likely bishops to have been commemorated with the effigy died in 1286 and 1290, respectively; these are only shortly after the date of Nicholas of Ely's death.

WORCESTER The cathedral has three episcopal effigies from the thirteenth century, two in Purbeck and the third in a dark freestone.

463 464

465

Cotton Vespasian D.IX, “sepultus est ex aquilonari plaga majoris altaris”; see also Wharton, vol. I, 286. Lindley, “Medieval Sculpture,” 102-4, though he admits that “further analysis of effigies from the period is certainly necessary.” Lindley, “Medieval Sculpture,” 102-4, “the likeliest candidate appears to be John of Exeter, though the style of the effigy marks a considerable departure from that of his predecessor; it is just possible that the tomb commemorates Bishop Nicholas of Ely, whose heart was buried in Winchester, and who may have commissioned the effigy before his death.”

543 Cat. 33 Current location: Currently on a new base to the north of the altar in the Lady Chapel Identification: ?Bishop Sylvester (d.1218) Measurements: Width of slab at foot (some missing), approx. 50 cm; width at head, approx. 82 cm; length of slab (some missing), 214 cm; width of figure at widest part (elbows), approx. 68 cm; depth of slab and figure, approx. 20 cm at highest part (the head); length of figure, 212 cm Major features: Dark freestone effigy separated from its coffin and now laid on a new base on the floor of the Lady Chapel. The stone is a dark hue, but is not Purbeck. Two types of stone, green sandstone and oolitic limestone, have been suggested as the medium.466 Both types of stone were used in the construction of the church building and would have been plentiful on site. The effigy currently faces west rather than east to better display it to the public. Extensive wear to its surface means that today it is in lower relief than it originally had been. Overall, it gives the impression of a not entirely successful attempt at a complicated and demanding sculpture. The figure is unusually wide in comparison to the slab, with the outer part of his arms extending to the outer edges of the slab. The body and its drapery appears flattened, so that, for example, folds below the arms that should be vertical rather than horizontal are flattened into the same plane as the front of the chasuble. The figure is rather ill-

466

Ute Engel, 27 and 115, believes it to be greenstone, quarried from Shropshire. Bloxam, “The Sepulchral Remains and Effigies,” 341, made the same observation. In a paper co-written by the cathedral archaeologist, it was stated that the effigy was of oolitic limestone: Guy and Brain, 18. This was based on the observations of Dr Peter Oliver, University of Worcester.

544 shaped, splayed out, the elbows spread considerably wider than the narrow shoulders. The sense of awkwardness is increased by the figure's pose, particularly the arrangement of his right hand, which makes the gesture of blessing in front of his chest, with hand bent backwards and palm facing outwards. The left hand, which grasps the crosier, is also held in front of the chest, so that the gestures are contained within the outline of the body. The crosier crosses down the front of the body at an angle towards his right foot. The crosier head, though worn, partially survives among the foliage at the bishop's left side. The figure is not housed within a niche. Instead, on either side of his head are generous loops of thick, fleshy vines sprouting large curled leaves. The loops are not symmetrically arranged, but rather each side approximates the other. Since the effigy extends the full width of the slab, there is no framing device defining the long sides of the slab. There is too much damage at the bishop's feet to determine on what he once stood. His amice is wide and prominent, extending up to his ears. His hair projects above his ears, but his forehead is bare. The face and the top of the mitre are worn away. At the base of the collar is a large lozenge-shaped morse, carved in relief, with a central oval indentation for a jewel, and four smaller circular indentations around it. There are several similar depressions on his garments, especially his maniple, mitre, and stole. The chasuble hangs lopsided, to the right, in an attempt at a more natural treatment of the behavior of soft cloth, although here carried out a bit clumsily. The folds of the cloth are in low relief and are rounded gently in profile (although once were higher in profile). The folds hang vertically down the chest and arms, then below the arms begin to resolve themselves into closely carved interlocking loops. The dalmatic below also falls towards

545 the right. The cloth of the undergarments near the legs hangs in vertical pleats, except where it is stretched across the legs. In the depressions in the morse and along the maniple are remnants of colored paste or wax. David Park has concluded that this is adhesive, used to fasten applied ornament such as faux gems, and is original to the effigy.467 History, identification, and scholarship: Habingdon's description from the first half of the seventeenth century is the earliest documentary source for the presence of two bishops' effigies in the eastern chapel (this and Cat. 34), although he did not specify their exact location.468 Plans made in the early eighteenth century show that the two effigies were then in the second bay from the east, facing eastwards.469 The move to the easternmost bay, their current location, occurred in 1974.470 The lower-relief effigy of dark freestone has been the northernmost of the pair since at least 1835, but Thomas’s publication indicated that it on the south side in 1736. Thus, the pair was either switched between 1736 and 1835, or, more likely, a

467 468

469

470

Park, “Survey,” no. 19. Habingdon (sometimes called Abingdon), 18. Habingdon (1605-1647) was an early historian of the county, but his survey of the church was not published until 1717. The tombs are not mentioned by other early commentators such as Leland, Godwin, or Dingley. For an overview of the early history of this and other medieval effigies at Worcester, see Guy and Brain. See Browne Willis’s manuscript plan, Bodl MS Willis 46, fol. 157v-158; his published plan in his Survey, vol. II, 623 (reproduced in Engel, fig. 23); a 1734 plan by J Dougherty, printed in Thomas, after p. 22. Stevens’s 1722 supplement to Dugdale’s Monasticon, vol. I, 463, added an extra bay to the Lady Chapel in the plan, and therefore mistakenly located the tombs a bay to the east, further inside the Lady Chapel rather than in between the retrochoir piers. He did not draw effigies on them as on other tombs on this plan. The effigies are shown in the second bay before the altar in a plan printed in 1796 by Green, vol. I, following p. 146 (reproduced in Engel, fig. 24), and in plans through the nineteenth century, including Wild, Worcester, pl. I; Coney’s plan in Dugdale’s revised Monasticon, vol. I; Britton, Worcester (plan taken in 1830); The Builder 63 (1892), following p. 108 (reproduced in Engel, fig. 1). The Yale Center for British Art owns a proof copy of Britton's Worcester with original drawings. Guy and Brain, 17, citing the Cathedral Chapter Acts.

546 mistake was made in Thomas’s work.471 Early printed views of the effigy were published by Thomas (1736, a side-view) and by Charles Wild (1823, a birds-eye view); Wild’s is the more accurate of the two.472 There has been much speculation as to whom these effigies represent, in part due to confusion about the location of the high altar, the burial of King John and of the shrines/burials of the cathedral's two primary saints, Wulfstan and Oswald.473 Habingdon did not record identifications of the two bishop's effigies. Only in the eighteenth century do we find attempts at identification, and these authors varied greatly in their ascriptions. Thomas in 1736 said they represented the tombs of Bishops Giffard (d.1301; Cat. 35) and Constantiis (d.1198) who were buried near the high altar, believing that the high altar had been in the easternmost part of the church.474 The presence in the eighteenth century of a third gravestone in between the two effigies of the bishops led to popular identification of the three monuments as those of King John, Wulfstan, and Oswald. Stukeley, in a letter dated 1721, is the earliest known source for this triple identification. The central one, identified by him as King John's, he described as “under a little stone before the altar under the easternmost wall of the church. On each side him [sic], on the ground, lye the effigies of the two holy bishops, and his chief saints Wolstan and Oswald.”475 Browne

471

472 473

474 475

See, e.g. Britton, Worcester (1835), appendix, description of no. 29 on plan. However, comparison of Thomas's illustration facing p. 44, text on p. 43-4, and plan indicates that the non-Purbeck effigy was to the south. The simplest explanation is that the captions on the illustration may have been mixed up. Thomas, 44; Wild, Worcester, pl. XI, no. 3. The king’s burial was in the thirteenth century described as being before the high altar, in between the saints, as for example noted in the Worcester annals printed in Wharton, vol. I, 483: “coram magno altari inter SS Oswaldum et Wulstanum.” The reconstruction of the east end in the early thirteenth century as well as the knowledge that John was moved into a new tomb in 1232, however, caused confusion. On John's burial most recently, see Engel, 206-10. Thomas, 43-4. A letter to Samuel Gale, printed in The Family Memoirs of the Revd William Stukeley MD, Surtees

547 Willis, whose manuscript and printed plans (1727) omitted the middle monument and merely refer to the effigies as “2 bishops effigies,” followed Stukeley's suggestion in his notes and the text of his publication: “Near the upper end ... are on the ground two very antient marble effigies of bps probably the real gravestones of the Bp Oswald and Wosltan and between them a little higher lies an antient gravestone under which they tell me king John was buried.”476 This third gravestone in between the bishops' effigies, despite its presence by 1721, does not appear on the plans made by Stevens (1722) or Thomas (1734), but is marked on Green's plan (1796) and is described by him.477

476

477

Society, vol. 80 (1887), 279. Stukeley also stated that the effigy of King John was originally placed in this eastern location, though he does not cite a source for any of this information, which he gained apparently while touring the church. Gough had access to Stukeley’s letters and was the first to publish Stukeley’s observations, Sepulchral Monuments, vol. I, 37: “Stukeley, on what authority I know not, supposes the image [i.e. the effigy for King John] lay on the ground, in the Lady chapel, on a stone now between bishops Oswald and Wolstan, though [the effigy was] since elevated on a tomb in the choir.” Bodl MS Willis 38, 90; Survey (1727), vol. II, 627: the real bodies of the saints and the king “lie under gravestones behind the high altar,” which he goes on to describe as “three very antient Gravestones together, the middle One is said to lie over King John, and those on each side to cover bishops Wolstan and Oswald.” The monument to John in the choir was thought by Willis to have been a cenotaph, with the real tomb further east. His plans, however, show John’s tomb in the choir and he marks two tombs on either side of the high altar as being for the two saints; in the lady chapel are the two bishops' effigies. In other words the notes and plans do not match up. From 1796 until the late nineteenth century, plans show the third monument placed in between the two effigies (see those in Green, Wild, Britton, Coney, as in n.469). The 1892 plan in The Builder does not show it there any longer, and it was probably removed during the 1870 repaving of the Lady Chapel. Green, 68, implied that the monument was a Purbeck slab, which he thought to be the base for John's original tomb, and like Willis believed the raised monument in the choir was a cenotaph. When the royal tomb in the choir was opened in the summer of 1797, and the body of the king found there in the raised tomb chest, Willis was forced to admit that he was wrong, although he still held that the bodies of the king and the saints were all originally sunken into the Lady Chapel floor with effigies set at floor level. His “An Account of the Opening of the Tomb of King John” is appended to his publications, and is largely reprinted in Gough, Sepulchral Monuments, vol. II, cccxxxi. After John’s body was discovered in the choir, another bishop's effigy was laid on top of the middle slab in the Lady Chapel. Wild, Worcester, 20, and Bloxam, “The Sepulchral Remains and Effigies,” 339, both saw three effigies in the Lady Chapel, and Bloxam's written description, p. 343, matches the fourteenth-century effigy now in the north choir aisle. John Noake, The Monastery and Cathedral of Worcester (1866), 344, also noted three bishops’ effigies. The effigy formerly in the middle position was removed to the north choir aisle in the Victorian restorations: FE Hutchinson, “The Medieval Effigies in the Cathedral Church of Worcester,” 32. The flat slab may have originally been on the burial to the north of the high altar (for which see Cat. 34), and moved to the eastern chapel in the early part of the eighteenth century when the northwest pier of the eastern crossing near to the burial had to be shored up: Engel, p. 38ff.

548 Following Willis and Stukeley, Green suggested that the effigies marked the place of burial of Oswald and Wulfstan on either side of King John, but that after the saints were elevated to their new shrines, the graves were occupied by Bishops Sylvester (south) and de Blois (north).478 Whether he thought the effigies were made for the sainted bishops or for the two thirteenth-century bishops is unclear. Despite Green's suggestion that the tombs might represent two thirteenth-century bishops, attribution to the saints persisted into the nineteenth century.479 While Gough proposed that the monuments had similarities to late twelfthcentury bishops' effigies,480 Charles Wild was seemingly the first to suggest an identification based on style. He described: “The stones out of which these effigies are carved, rest on the coffins immediately below the level of the pavement, and their form as well as the figures themselves, correspond with several known examples of the early part of the thirteenth century.”481 As a result, Wild attributed the effigies to Bishops Sylvester and de Blois, and dismissed the attribution to the saints as unlikely. Bloxam, in 1863, based on the find of a thirteenth-century episcopal burial north of the high altar, was also convinced that the effigies belonged to thirteenth-century bishops.482 He

478

479

480

481 482

Green, 64-5, 67 and 72-3, where he goes so far as to speculate as to which bishop chose which saint’s grave. See also p. 146. Both attributions are given on his plan. He completely discounted Thomas's attribution to Constantiis and Giffard. Gough, Sepulchral Monuments, vol. I, 13; Buckler (1822); Britton, Worcester (1835); Coney followed Green in giving them both sets of attributions. Gough, Sepulchral Monuments, vol. I, 13, compared them to the effigies “of Roger and the other bishop at Sarum; the same attitude and the same foliage under their heads, as under the latter. It is remarkable, that both the Worcester bishops hold a mere baculus, or staff, instead of a crosier (though both Thomas and Green call them crosiers) and have a rose on their breast. ...” See also p. 37: “bishops Oswald and Wulstan, patrons of the church, whose monuments now lie in Lady-chapel, though mistaken for two other bishops.” His recognition that they were made at a date long after the deaths of the saints evidently did not sway his opinion that they represented the saints. Wild, Worcester, 20. Bloxam, “The Sepulchral Remains and Effigies,” 276-8 and 339-41. The burial was discovered in 1861;

549 concluded that the dark stone effigy on the north side belonged to de Blois, and the Purbeck one (Cat. 34) to Cantilupe (d.1266). Green (though perhaps unknown to Bloxam) had already related that two burials, likely of prelates, existed below the two monuments.483 Confirming this was the find under the northernmost of the effigies of a thirteenth-century episcopal burial when the effigies were moved for a restoration of the Lady Chapel in 1870.484 A more precise dating from the remains was not however possible. The pool of candidates for these monuments is very small. Only three thirteenthcentury bishops were buried in the church at Worcester: Sylvester de Evesham (d.1218), described as being buried “in the church”; William de Blois (d.1236), buried in his own church; and Walter Cantilupe (d.1266), who was said to be buried to the north of the high altar.485 We also know that Bishop Constantiis (d.1198) was buried near the high altar, on the south side (see Cat. 35). The tomb for Sylvester must have been constructed in the

483

484

485

see Cat. 35, n.522. Green, 72, relating a story told to him by one who was present at the investigation, and who judged, by the vestments, that the burials were ecclesiastical. Green did not print the date of the opening, but it may have been during the renovation of the floors around the middle of the eighteenth century (for which, see Engel, p. 38ff). Fragments of the vestments were removed and studied: St John Hope, “Some Remains of Early Vestments,” 196-9; Henman, “Fragments of Ancient Vestments Exhumed at Worcester,” Architectural Association Sketch Book (1869-71), vol. III, pl. 29 and vol. IV, pl. 42 and 43; HB Southwell, “A Descriptive Account of Some Fragments of Medieval Embroidery Found in Worcester Cathedral,” Reports and Papers Read at the Meetings of the Architectural Societies of the County of Lincoln ... during the year 1913 (1914), 151-64; Christie, 52, and catalogue items 4-8. There was no mention of a burial found under the southernmost effigy, however. For Bishop Sylvester, see the Worcester annals, Ann. Mon., vol. IV, 289 (and Wharton, 484). For Bishop de Blois, see the Tewkesbury annals, Ann. Mon., vol. I, 101; for Bishop Cantilupe, the Worcester Annals up to 1308 printed in Wharton, 496: buried “cum magnum honore … juxta magnum altare.” (See also Ann. Mon., vol. IV, 453 for 1266). That he was probably buried on the north side is suggested by the find there of a thirteenth-century episcopal burial in 1861, and also by the fact that no disturbance to his tomb is recorded in 1301 in the documents pertaining to Giffard's tomb on the south side of the altar. That William of Blois was buried in the eastern chapel is likely, as his tomb was described in 1396/7 as being near a statue to the Virgin, which may well have been located in the eastern chapel. On altars to the Virgin at Worcester, see Engel, 193-7.

550 Romanesque building, as work on the east end did not begin until 1224.486 He may have been reburied or his monument re-sited in the rebuilt thirteenth-century eastern end. This was certainly done for Bishop Constantiis. Despite the small number of candidates, there is still disagreement over the effigies' identification. It is generally agreed that the freestone effigy is the older of the pair, despite Prior and Gardner's assertion that the Purbeck effigy (Cat 34) came first and the freestone was a derivative copy of poorer quality.487 Bloxam's identification of the freestone effigy to William de Blois (d.1236) has been seconded by Hutchinson, Park and Engel. 488 Guy and Brain proposed a date in the late twelfth or early thirteenth century, and therefore suggested either Bishops John de Constantiis (d.1198) or Sylvester (d.1218), favoring an identification with the earlier bishop.489 The vestments in the burial below the effigy, if indeed the coffin and effigy went together originally, probably date to the twelfth century, but this does not preclude the possibility that a bishop who died in 486 487

488

489

Hutchinson, 37, and Engel, 112ff. Prior and Gardner, 578-9 and 604, dated the Purbeck effigy (Cat. 34) to c.1240, and thought the freestone ‘copy’ came later than this date. Bloxam, “The Sepulchral Remains and Effigies,” 339, was the first to suggest that the freestone effigy was the earlier of the pair, in 1863. More recently, Hutchinson, 37; Guy and Brain, 17; Park, “Survey,” no. 19; and Engel, 115, interpreted it as earlier than the Purbeck one. Bloxam, “The Sepulchral Remains and Effigies,” 339; Hutchinson, 37; Park, “Survey,” no. 19, “probably” William de Blois. For Engel, the attribution to de Blois suits the chronology she proposed for the architectural development of the eastern end. She suggested that only the easternmost parts, not the choir, were done by the time of his death. Based on documentary evidence, she proposed that the choir was still underway in the 1250s, rejecting others' interpretation of the move of King John's body as indicating that the choir was finished by 1232. If the choir had been done, she suggests de Blois would have been buried near the high altar like his successor. Guy and Brain, 18. Their preference for the earlier bishop is based on stylistic comparison to retrospective effigies at Wells, the traditional dating of which is c.1200. I think a date of 1210-20 for the Wells effigies is more likely (see Cats. 23-27). The fact that the Worcester effigy was of stone other than Purbeck also led Guy and Brain towards the earlier date, before Purbeck came into common use. But at Worcester, Purbeck did not come into use architecturally until the remodeling of the eastern end, after 1224 (see Engel, 112ff, on the east end). Even while Purbeck was popular, effigies could still be made in other stones, such as Cats. 9, 10, 11, 23-29. Additionally, for this to be Constantiis’s burial, we would have to reconcile the placement in the Lady Chapel with the fact that the Archbishop in 1301 directed that Constantiis’s body be replaced in its original position to the south of the high altar.

551 the thirteenth century was buried in older vestments.490 Stylistically, the effigy belongs among those made in the early thirteenth century. The deeply carved volutes of foliage at either side of the head are reminiscent of the retrospective episcopal effigies carved at Wells in (in my estimation) the 1210s (Cats. 2327). The foliage, more directly, relates to the Purbeck effigy just to its south at Worcester (Cat. 34). The somewhat awkward pose, with both hands in front of the body, and especially the blessing hand held facing outwards in front of the chest, was abandoned in effigy carving after the 1240s in favor of a more three-dimensional raising of the arms at either side of the shoulders. An interest in scooping out settings for applied ornament and in forming complicated loops of drapery relates this effigy to the two others carved at/for Worcester, the Purbeck bishop to the south (Cat. 34) and King John (effigy dated c.1232). Since the Purbeck effigy has similarities to effigies dated to the late 1230s or early 1240s (see Cat. 34), the effigy in question here would better suit a date in the 1220s, and thus would fit best with Sylvester's date of death. It may even have been made slightly later, since the pair of effigies clearly reference each other. In this scenario, Cantilupe (bishop 1237-66) may have ensured a proper burial for his predecessors once the eastern chapel was ready to accommodate tombs. This might also explain the similarity of form but difference in stone: one (the Purbeck one, suggested in Cat. 34 as having been made for de Blois in the 1230s) was made with the benefit of the estate's money as it was being settled by executors, while the other (freestone, for Sylvester)

490

Christie, 52-4, nos. 4-8 and 68-70, nos. 33-7; St John Hope, “Some Remains of Early Vestments,” 197200. Hope pointed out that it was not unusual for a thirteenth-century bishop to be buried in older vestments, as with Hubert Walter at Canterbury. Therefore he did not discount the attribution to de Blois.

552 might have been made years after the bishop’s estate had already been settled, and therefore a decision might have been made to use a less costly stone. Another possible scenario is that the freestone effigy does belong to de Blois, that it was finished in the 1230s, and that the slightly later one in Purbeck belongs to Cantilupe, but was made very early in Cantilupe’s 30-year term as bishop. The first suggestion seems to me the more likely possibility.

Cat. 34 Current location: South of the altar in the Lady Chapel Identification: ?Bishop de Blois (d.1236) Measurements: Width at feet (some missing), 44 cm; width at head (some missing), 70 cm; width of figure at widest part (elbows), approx. 58 cm; length of whole, 217 cm; length of chasuble from neck to tip, 124 cm; length of figure, 199 cm. The feet appear to be in the highest relief, 28 cm with filler in places; depth of relief at head, approx. 26 cm; at arms, approx. 25 cm. Major features: A Purbeck effigy separated from its coffin and now on new base on the floor of the Lady Chapel. This effigy displays much deeper relief than the freestone example to the north, exhibits more correct proportions, and is also more skillfully carved. Great attention was paid to the minute details in the foliage carved around the head and feet and the delicate folds of the garments. Like the freestone effigy, the figure does not stand in a niche, but is embraced by a profusion of foliage around his head and his feet. The vines

553 at his head are fleshy, intertwined tendrils, arranged asymmetrically, rising from a main stem either side of the shoulders and branching into large loops on either side of the head. Along the top, more foliage frames the effigy. There is some variety in the leaf forms at the top; some are scooped out into concave ovals, while others have a raised vein down the center of the leaf. The bishop's feet rest on a corbel that is supported by two large growths of stiff-leaf foliage, which curl outwards towards the viewer. There is a series of deeply scooped fleshy trilobed leaves at their bases and around the sides of the bishop's ankles. From the top right corner, an angel, its surface very worn, swoops down out of clouds, represented by several wavy lines. A wing is visible behind him, his hand is outstretched, and he faces towards the bishop. He wears a belted garment and holds a censer below him, the chains of which are still clearly visible although the bowl is damaged. A similar angel was on the opposite corner, but is now badly damaged. There have been discrepancies in identifying the angels in the corners. Britton's plate shows them clearly as angels, as they appear today.491 Blore, however, drew one as a bird carrying a pouch; Guy and Brain also mistakenly identified these as birds.492 The bishop holds a crosier in his left hand. Its base is near the figure's left foot, and the crook, which is now missing, was by his left ear. Like his counterpart to the north (Cat. 33), the bishop's arms are contained within the outline of the body, and the right hand is held palm outward, blessing, in front of the right shoulder. The sculptor has rendered the overall shape of the body quite naturally, with narrow but satisfyingly three-

491 492

Britton, Worcester, pl. XVI. Blore, BL Add Ms 42013, fol. 7; Guy and Brain, 18.

554 dimensional shoulders. His beard is comprised of individual clumps of hair decorated with incised lines. He also wears a mustache. The sculptor carved hair at the sides by his ears but not across the front of his brow. The eyes are open. The effigy wears pontificals, and much attention has been paid by the sculptor to the fall of the cloth and its surface adornment. The mitre, for example, has a raised band across the forehead and another rising to the tip, both with indents for jewels. The letters TC have been clumsily scratched on either side of the central band, though these were added at a later date. The back of his left glove has a large depression for a jewel, and at the base of the amice is a morse in the shape of a four-petaled flower with a hole for a jewel in the center. The amice also once had indentations for jewels, and the stole and maniple have carved fringes, an incised border, and various depressions for jewels. Paste survives in the indentations of the mitre and morse.493 The folds of the cloth enliven the surface of the body from the morse all the way to the base of the undergarments. The chasuble is formed of many small, delicate, soft folds, with hairpin loops where each ridge of fabric meets at the center. The sculptor has spent time off-setting each fold so that they do not form a simple series of symmetrical v-folds all with the same central axis. The many folds are formed of thin ridges, in section like raised inverted Vs, tidily nested closely together. The hemline of the alb folds back on itself in complicated ripples matching the many folds in the garment above. History, identification, and scholarship: The early history of placement and identification of this effigy has been discussed in Cat. 33. A burial, possibly of a prelate, was evidently found under each of the bishop’s 493

D Park, “Survey,” no. 19.

555 effigies in the Lady Chapel prior to 1796, although no mention was made of a burial under this particular effigy during the 1870 restorations. 494 Of the two early effigies at Worcester, this is the one draughtsmen have reproduced most frequently. Thomas provided a crude early view, in 1736.495 Wild published a plate with this effigy in 1823, as did Britton in 1835.496 It also attracted the attention of Edward Blore.497 Besides being attributed to the cathedral’s saints, the monument has also been given to Bishops Constantiis or Giffard,498 and to Bishop Sylvester.499 When a thirteenthcentury episcopal burial was found in Dec. 1861 on the north side of the high altar, near the northwest pier of the eastern crossing, Bloxam stated that, based on measurements (which unfortunately he did not reproduce in print), the newly discovered coffin belonged with the Purbeck effigy now in the Lady Chapel.500 Since it is known from documentary sources that Bishop Cantilupe was buried near the high altar, most probably on the north side, Bloxam identified the effigy as that made for Cantilupe, placed on his tomb, and later moved to the Lady Chapel. He did not discuss why and when it might have been moved to the chapel, nor did he discuss the burial noted by Green in the Lady Chapel under this effigy.

494 495 496

497 498 499 500

Green, 40 and 71-4. Thomas, plate opp. p. 44. Wild, Worcester, pl. XI; Britton, Worcester, pl. XVI. Britton’s is a birds-eye view of six of the cathedral’s effigies, only one of which is episcopal. An original drawing for this plate can be found in the proof copy of Britton's Worcester in the Yale Center for British Art. BL Add Ms 42013, fol. 7. Thomas, 44 and 152. Green, 72-3 and plan. Bloxam, “The Sepulchral Remains and Effigies,” 341 and 276-8, esp. 278: “On comparing the dimensions of the stone coffin containing the remains of this bishop with those of the slab on which is sculptured the recumbent effigy of a bishop, that lying southernmost at the east end of the Lady Chapel, I find them so exactly to correspond that I have no hesitation in concluding that the effigy formed the original cover to the coffin.” See also the letters by Mr Perkins, cathedral architect, and Bloxam, in JBAA 18 (1862), 254-7.

556 Hutchinson and Engel agreed with Bloxam's estimation,501 but it seems unlikely for several reasons. Habingdon, writing in the first half of the seventeenth century, noted that north of the high altar, “there remaineth now a plain Marble stone”; Thomas, in 1736, noted that this stone was “now gone.” 502 This, rather than the Purbeck effigy, may well have marked the original burial of Bishop Cantilupe. Further, more than one tomb at this church may have had similar dimensions, and it is possible that the coffin and the now-missing slab formed a completely separate tomb from the effigy. However, the main objection to accepting the effigy as belonging to Cantilupe’s tomb is stylistic in nature. Most commentators of the twentieth century recognize that stylistically, the Purbeck effigy belongs to an earlier date than c.1266. Stone placed it in the second quarter of the thirteenth century.503 Gardner offered a date of c.1240, citing a “tendency [in this and others around mid-century, including Cat. 2, Cat. 3 and Cat. 56] to more elaborate, more natural draperies.”504 Guy and Brain note similarities with King John in the choir, whose effigy dates to c.1232, particularly in the use of indentations and the close folds. They date it to c.1240.505 These assessments seem to me to be accurate. While the high relief of the effigy and the figure’s proportions make it approach effigies made in the 1250s (e.g. Cats. 2, 3,

501

502

503 504 505

Hutchinson (1843), 26-7, and an unpublished typescript by the same in the Hereford Cathedral Library, shelf 5/4/7-8, “Record of the Monumental Inscriptions and Burials in the Cathedral Church of Christ and the Blessed Mary the Virgin, Worcester” (1944), 37. See also Engel, 116. Habingdon, 13 and Thomas, 35. Habingdon made clear that this was not at the lower level, along the outside of the choir wall, but was inside the choir enclosure. He thought it was a remnant of Oswald’s shrine. It is possible that this plain slab was the same as that known to be in between the two bishops’ effigies in the Lady Chapel by 1721 (see Cat. 33). It may have been moved to that location in the early part of the century when the northwest pier near the burial to the north of the high altar was shored up. Stone, 117. A Gardner, 156, with illustration. Guy and Brain, 18.

557 4 and 12), and specific motifs such as the foliate corbel are seen on effigies from the 1240s and 1250s (e.g. Cats. 4 and 12), effigies from the 1230s and around 1240 provide better parallels. Like the c.1240 freestone effigy at Lichfield (Cat. 11) and others of earlier date, the figure retains the awkward arm position close to the body. Additionally, the emphasis on surface detail is a feature of effigies made in the 1220s to 1230s rather than the 1250s. The overlapping folds at the hemline of the dalmatic and alb are of similar character to the garments seen on King John’s c.1232 effigy and on the c.1240 freestone effigy at Lichfield (Cat. 11). The drapery is not the broad, looser folds of midcentury, but is formed of sharp ridges. Instead of broad, tubular curves on the dalmatic and alb over the legs, as seen on mid-century effigies, the Worcester effigy’s tunicle and alb fold over each other in pinched angular ridges to produce the complicated hemline. A strong similarity can be found between the two miniature figures of bishops on either side of the king’s head on John’s tomb, particularly in the drapery, the details on the garments, and the shape and expression of the faces. The mustaches curve around the mouths in the same way, and the hair is carved in similar manner, although arranged in different styles (the curly hair of the bishop’s effigy appears on the beast at John’s feet rather than on the heads of the two miniature bishops). In terms of elaboration of surface detail, this effigy belongs alongside that of King John, and a date of manufacture around the mid-1230s seems to me to be likely. An effigy made at this date could still have belonged to Bishop Cantilupe if he had had it made shortly after he became bishop in 1237. Guy and Brain however suggested instead that it belonged to Bishop de Blois (d.1236), and make the point that

558 the Lady Chapel was very likely to have been de Blois's original place of burial as the chapel was begun under his episcopate.506 They cite as additional support a spandrel carving in the north aisle of the chapel of a bishop offering a church at an altar, probably meant to be de Blois. The spandrel figure is bearded, like the effigy. While the presence of a beard is not necessarily conclusive, the date of carving and the location of the effigy do indicate an association with Bishop de Blois.

Cat. 35 Current location: south choir aisle, westernmost of the pair of tombs below Prince Arthur’s chantry chapel Identification: Bishop Giffard (d.1301) Measurements: Width of slab at head, approx. 73 cm; width of slab at foot, approx. 63 cm; length of slab, 222 cm; length of figure of bishop, approx. 200 cm; width at arms, approx. 49 cm (narrow body); depth of effigy, approx. 20 cm; depth of head canopy above slab, 33 cm. The height of the colonnette, were it still extant, would be approx. 12.5 cm above the slab. Base: Height of chest, 45 cm, and an additional 10 for its chamfered base; length of base, 232 cm; each quatrefoil is 39 cm wide and 40 cm tall. Major features: The Purbeck effigy on its raised, decorated tomb chest is built into the substructure of Prince Arthur's chantry chapel which now forms its architectural surround. The effigy is framed on its slab by an elaborate three-dimensional niche. The 506

Guy and Brain, 18.

559 canopy over the figure's head is one of the most elaborate and daringly sculpted of those found on Purbeck tombs. Rising off the slab much higher in relief than the bishop's head, it has a central, crocketed gable capping a cinquefoiled inner arch that frames the head. At each side of the central opening is a faceted openwork gable over a trefoil-headed arch and a side gable of the same design placed perpendicularly to the slab. The gables are heavily crocketed, and there are tall pinnacles between the gables. There is a central 'tower' at the top, at the junction of the three main gables, somewhat like a crossing of a church. The central gable had head stops, now defaced, but probably a lady and a monk. Within these openwork gables at each side of the bishop’s head an angel sits tall. They face east, and swing thuribles over the top of the canopy towards the bishop's face. The heads of both angels are gone, as is the censer of the southern one. Angels or ecclesiastical figures also accompanied the bishop at his feet, although only the hand and arm of one, resting on one of the bishop's shoes, survives.507 He appears to have been sitting upright, looking towards the east. Only two other effigies are known to have angels at the feet—Archbishop de Gray at York (Cat. 36), and Bishop Aquablanca at Hereford (Cat. 10)—but these are in the form of busts or corbel heads. Seated figures (ecclesiastics) at the feet are rare, but appear on Cats. 43 and 53. The colonnettes which once ran down the sides of the figure were raised several centimeters off the slab. Along the length of each colonnette were six supports, now destroyed. Still surviving are the rounded abaci with foliate capitals, featuring a grape-

507

But see Guy and Brain, 18, who thought that these were “remains of claws or feet, possibly representing two dogs or angels,” and then again, p. 20, where they propose they are remains of heraldic leopards. Habingdon, 14, and Thomas, 35, copying Habingdon, correctly identified these figures as angels, which possibly were in better repair in the early seventeenth century.

560 leaf and clusters of grapes. The figure lies on a pillow set diagonally. He held a crosier, which crossed his body from the left hand over to the outside of the right foot, where a stone spur can be seen near the stole. The crosier had a cloth wrapped around it, and the crosier head, which survives where it attached to the canopy, was decorated with delicate tendrils of naturalistic vegetation. The body is low and narrow at the chest and shoulders, with a very pronounced slope up to the protruding midsection. The head is large, with large ears, open eyes, and a tidy fringe of hair across the forehead below the mitre. The mitre is decorated in relief with raised bands studded with indentations for jewels, and quatrefoils with similar indentations on the main cloth. The lappets of the mitre are visible at the back. The apparel of the amice also has depressions for gems. On the chest is a large rectangular breastplate, decorated with a quatrefoil motif and settings for gems. The drapery of the chasuble is formed of a few broad, lumpy folds with asymmetrical breaks below the figure's midsection. Jewels were once applied around the chasuble borders and along the split edges of the dalmatic underneath, which also has a carved fringe at the bottom. The tunicle and alb are also visible, and the stole has a carved fringe. The sandals, too, were ornamented with indentations for gems. Of the effigy's original pigmentation, a small bit of red paint in the far capital of the canopy and some green in a fold of the angel's robes survives. A speck of gold is visible on the hem of the alb. Park's survey sets out the evidence for color on the effigy.508 The chest: The tomb chest reveals the awkwardness of the ensemble as it was 508

Park, “Survey,” no. 20; idem, “The Giffard Monument,” 21.

561 retrofitted into the basement of the chantry chapel above. The chest only barely fits into the niche, and the slab on which the effigy lies is several inches too short for the chest (although the slab may have been truncated at the effigy's feet where the angels are missing). The south side of the tomb chest is formed of a single Purbeck panel adorned with six large quatrefoils each with a seated figure therein. Another panel with six more figures, made at the same time, is now on the south face of the second tomb under the chantry chapel, made for a female and placed immediately east of the bishop's tomb.509 It is likely that the panels were once used together to adorn the north and south faces of a single tomb chest rather than divided between two chests. 510 The separation may have occurred when the chantry chapel was built. The style of these panels dates them to the early fourteenth century, and they may have belonged to Giffard's original tomb. The type of Purbeck used is also similar, although the discrepancy between length of the chest panels and his effigy slab makes it difficult to accept this conclusion without expressing some doubt. If both panels were from Giffard's tomb, then his original tomb was intended to have been viewable from both sides. The figures on both panels form a matched set of twelve, probably the twelve apostles.511 They are now badly damaged. Each holds different attributes and displays a relaxed variation of the often formal seated, frontal pose. The figures sit on thrones with

509

510 511

This monument belongs to a lady, whose effigy slab (not in Purbeck) rests on the chest. Her identity, a subject of its own, is not explored here, although it is now generally agreed that she was Giffard's sister. For example, see Wild, Worcester, 22, who bases her identification on the entry in the Worcester annals for 1297: “13 cal sept sepulta fuit in ecclesia cathedral Matildis de Evereus, juxta locum ubi episcopus frater ejus disposuit sublimium sepeliri.” The panel on the chest is much longer than the lady’s effigy and clearly was not made for her tomb. On the use of apostles on funerary brasses, see HK Cameron, “Attributes of the Apostles on the Tournai School of Brasses,” Transactions of the Monumental Brass Society, vol. XIII, pt. IV, no. C, 1983, 283303.

562 armrests terminating in human and animal heads. From west to east, the figures on the bishop's tomb are: 1. a tonsured or balding man with short beard, his right hand on chest, his left holding a ?book. He is partially hidden by the choir aisle steps. 2. a man with long hair and long beard, his right hand across his chest, and in his left are two crossed sticks forming an X (?St. Andrew). His bare toes are visible, and his head angled slightly towards the southwest. Some red paint survives. 3. a clean-shaven man with long hair, facing to the southeast. In his left hand he holds a book facing outwards, and in his right a sword, pointing straight up from his knee. Some red paint survives next to the book. 4. a figure with a young face, clean-shaven, and with curly hair. His arms are both bent at the elbow, and he points with both hands to a wound in his sternum. In the crook of his left arm is a staff or lance. 5. a man with very long hair and beard down to his chest. He grasps the hilt of a sword with his right hand and the blade with his left, so that it the sword is held diagonally across the front of his torso. 6. a young figure with long hair, who with his right hand points to the figure next to him, and in his left hand holds upright a staff which is bulbous at the bottom (?a fuller's bat ?James the Less). Except for the westernmost figure, these are arranged in pairs so that each is looking towards his partner. In between the quatrefoils are frontal busts of angels, and in the four corners of the south face of the chest are male heads facing inwards towards the figures in quatrefoils. The series continues on the next tomb, the opening for which is shorter, and so the easternmost part of the chest is cut off. From west to east: 7. a man with very long beard down to his chest. He looks to the southeast, and holds a sword diagonally from his right

563 hand towards his lower left. 8. this figure faces frontally, is unbearded and has short hair. He holds upright in his left hand a cross-staff (?St Philip), while his right arm points to the staff. 9. a bearded figure with long hair, facing to the southeast. He displays a wound in his sternum and points to it with his left hand. His right holds a sword across his knees. 10. a bearded figure with long hair, facing to the southwest. His left arm points out to his left, to the figure at his left. His right arm holds a vertical object, perhaps a large knife with trapezoidal blade (?Bartholomew with a butcher's knife). 11. this figure is unbearded, with short hair, possibly tonsured. He holds an open book on his left knee. On his right knee is perched a large bird who looks into the book (?St John). 12. The final figure has been cut off by the eastern wall of the niche. In between the quatrefoils are busts of angels and at the far left corner are two male heads. Fragments of red paint survive on the backgrounds around the figures. History, identification, and scholarship: This tomb has, since the late eighteenth century, been identified as Bishop Giffard's, but early antiquaries often labeled this tomb as belonging to the sainted bishop Wulfstan, ironically based in part on the will of Bishop Giffard. The will stated that Giffard was to be buried on the dexter side of the high altar, which they interpreted as the north side. 512 A letter from the Archbishop of Canterbury in 1301 described Giffard's tomb as above, 'supra,' the shrine of Oswald.513 The conclusion was that since Giffard’s 512

513

Giffard’s will is printed in Thomas’s appendix, 77: “Corpus vero meum ordino sepeliendum in ecclesia cathedralie Wygorn in qua de misericordia Dei Ominpotentis consisus curam episcopalem accepi ac geffi ad tempus. Et rogo caritative, ac moneo in Jesu Christo priorem Wygorn qui pro tempore sepulture mee preerit ecclesie supradicte, nec non et confratrum isius monasterii venerandum collegium, ut corpus meum sepeliant in tumulo, quod juxta magnum altare, a parte dextra, in eodem monasterio, juxta mee voluntatis arbitrium, situatur.” R Graham, ed., Registrum Roberti Winchelsey, 761-3; and in English in J Wilson, The Worcester Liber

564 tomb and Oswald's shrine were evidently on the north side of the high altar, then the tomb in question here, located to the south of the altar, must have been for Wulfstan.514 Richard Gough dismissed with scorn the attribution to Wulfstan: “His monument has been falsely ascribed to St Wolstan by Dr Thomas and others, who, if they had in the least attended to the style of the monuments, would never have made such an exchange for the two prelates who lived two centuries asunder.”515 Green, in 1796, while still believing that Giffard had been buried on the north side of the high altar, correctly attributed the Purbeck tomb on the south to Giffard by suggesting that the effigy had been moved from the north side to below Prince Arthur's chantry at a later date.516 After Green and Gough, writers generally stuck with the identification of the tomb as Giffard's.517 That this is correct is strongly substantiated by the same medieval documentary references noted above. In 1301, after Archbishop Winchelsey conducted a visitation at

514

515

516 517

Albus, 21-3. Habingdon, 14; Thomas, 35 (relying on Habingdon); Stevens, plan; B Willis, Survey (1727), vol. II, 627 and plan facing p. 623. Sketches of this tomb made by John Carter in 1784, BL Add Ms 29926, fols. 165-6, also identify it as Wolfstone’s. See also the summary of antiquaries' writings in Guy and Brain, 19, where they note that Wharton identified the tomb as Giffard’s as early as 1691, and where they explain the reasoning behind the misunderstanding of the placement of Giffard’s tomb and Oswald’s shrine. Gough, Sepulchral Monuments, vol. I, 77, and also p. 13: “The monument in the Lady Chapel [sic], miscalled Wolstan's, is more probably bishop Gifford's, who died 1301; the altar part of it is adorned with six figures of apostles sitting in quatrefoils; and on it lies a figure in pontificalibus, the hands elevated, but not joined. At the head is a rich canopy, on which sit angels.” However, see p. 30, where he persists in the earlier mistake that Giffard was originally buried on the north side of the high altar: “John de Constantiis, who died 1198, was buried on the north side of the altar…. Gifford, in the next century, erected himself a handsome tomb in the same place, juxta magnum altare a dextra parte, says his will; but by order of the archbishop of Canterbury, January, 1302, John's remains were replaced here, and Gifford was entombed on the opposite side of the altar.” Green, 65-7 and 152. E.g. Wild, Worcester, 1823, 21-2: the “head, supported by two angels, rests under a rich canopy, such as is frequently seen in the architecture of the early part of the fourteenth century...” and “This monument, considered by Abington and Dr Thomas, to have been erected to the memory of Bp Wulstan, is now more correctly referred to Bp [sic] Godfrey Gifford, who died in 1301.” See also Bloxam, “The Sepulchral Remains and Effigies,” 342.

565 the monastic cathedral, he declared his dissatisfaction with Giffard's newly constructed tomb.518 He took issue, among other things, with the fact that it blocked light to Oswald's shrine, that it displaced the sedilia, and that it displaced an existing tomb to Bishop Constantiis which had made provision for a sedilia. All of these indicate a location for both Giffard's tomb and Oswald's shrine on the south side of the high altar, not the north. The Archbishop requested that Giffard’s tomb be rebuilt in a lower position and that the tomb to Constantiis and the sedilia be replaced. Where the convent moved Giffard's tomb is unknown, if indeed they did move it, but its incorporation in the early sixteenth century into the basement of Prince Arthur's chantry, and some comments made by the Archbishop about finding a location more accessible to visitors, suggests that the convent moved it more or less to where it stands now. David Park supposed that it may have had an encompassing canopy much like that on the tomb of Crouchback and others of similar date at Westminster.519 As Guy and Brain noted, however, the effigy was not designed to be hidden on three sides as it has been since at least the early sixteenth century.520 Stylistic analysis confirms the identification to Giffard, whose tomb was in place by 1301, not long before his death. The overall shape of the body and head is very similar to the effigy of Bishop Marchia at Wells, who died in the same year as Giffard. The large, uneven and asymmetrical drapery folds also place it alongside Marchia's effigy and others from the late thirteenth and early fourteenth century. The hair, drapery, and

518

519

520

See n.513 above. As noted by Guy and Brain, 29-30, the first to interpret the documentary sources so as to suggest a solid attribution to Giffard was Hutchinson. Park, “The Giffard Monument,” 20; idem, “Survey,” no. 20. See also C Wilson, “Medieval Monuments,” 452, n. 4, who refers to Giffard as “of metropolitan workmanship.” Guy and Brain, 18.

566 relaxed disposition of the figures on the tomb chest are also of this date.521 The attention paid to the delicate surface ornament is somewhat unusual at that late date, and is more in concert with the heavily ornamented effigies made in the middle decades of the thirteenth century in terms of character, although not in terms of style. The elaborate canopy and the colonnettes carved in the round, for example, are found on effigies from the 1250s. Guy and Brain, basing their argument on these mid-century characteristics, are the only modern scholars to date the effigy to an earlier bishop; they suggest that it was made for Bishop Cantilupe (d.1266), and that it had originally been on the north side of the high altar. The base, they felt, was all that remained of Giffard's tomb.522 But the two Purbeck effigies at Rochester (Cats. 15, 16), dating to the latter decades of the thirteenth century, were treated with similar formal motifs, and one was carved with a great appreciation for surface ornament. That the effigy was carved towards the end of the thirteenth century is entirely supportable. Perhaps because they formed part of Arthur's chantry, the bishop’s effigy and the female effigy on the similar base to the east were often reproduced in engravings, the

521

522

Park, “The Giffard Monument,” 21 and “Survey,” no. 20, says the base is of the same workshop which completed the base for the de Vere tomb in Chichester, whose occupant died in 1293. Guy and Brain, 19-20. Their argument in part rests on the unusual rationale at the bishop's chest, which they say fell out of use through the thirteenth century. This does not necessarily preclude him being buried, or depicted in effigy, with one. The use of Purbeck, they say, is also unlikely at such a late date, although there are other Purbeck effigies still being made in the 1280s and 1290s (Ely Cat. 5 and Winchester Cat. 32). They conclude, correctly I think, that the burial of Cantilupe was on the north side of the high altar, confirmed by the find of a burial there in 1861. However, there is little proof that this effigy was associated with that burial. They suggest that subsequent movement of furnishings, such as Giffard's tomb being installed, and maybe in the fourteenth century when the screen between choir and presbytery was built, and again when the chantry chapel was put in, rendered the Cantilupe memorial out of place, and let to its removal below the chantry. They suggest that the now-destroyed figures below the effigy's feet were the leopards of the Cantilupe coat of arms, but the physical evidence of a small hand renders this theory untenable. Additionally, their theory does not take into account the “plain Marble stone” to the north of the high altar as noted by Habingdon, which may have marked Cantilupe’s tomb.

567 earliest being that of Sandford, published in 1677.523 Thomas in 1736 illustrated the tomb from the south, although not particularly accurately.524 Green did the same in 1796.525 Carter made sketches at Worcester for Richard Gough in 1784, in which he recorded details of the figures on the tomb chest and noted that the effigy and chest were dark marble.526 In the first half of the nineteenth century, Blore was making sketches at Worcester, Wild and Britton published engravings of the tomb seen from the south, and Hollis and Hollis's plate showed a birds-eye view of the effigy complete with details of the vestments and their polychromy. 527 The effigy was certainly painted, as surviving color and antiquarian evidence show. Wild in 1823 noted that the tomb “which bears the statue of a bishop, appears to have been painted....”528 The Hollis and Hollis plate from 1842 recorded color in certain places on the effigy, including red on the sandals and underside of the chasuble, and gold on the borders of the alb, tunicle, and chasuble and on the mitre, crosier head and ephod. The front of the chasuble was white, and there were additional decorative colors besides

523

524

525 526

527

528

Sandford, 447. Sandford’s view is of the Prince's chantry, with the basement effigies shown only indistinctly. Thomas, 39: this plate shows the bishop holding his hands straight up in the air, omits the crosier and shows nothing at his feet. The figures along the base are also only vaguely correct. Green, 98. BL Add Ms 29926, fol. 165, side view (labeled Bishop Wolston); fol. 166, details of the tomb base; fol. 167, lady’s tomb to the east; fol. 168, details of her tomb base. Gough, however, did not publish engravings of these. Blore, BL Add Ms 42008, fol. 12, a detailed side view with the front piers of the chapel cut away for maximum visibility of the effigy. On the base, at the lower right hand corner he has drawn a bishop’s head instead of an angel. See also BL Add Ms 42011, fol. 39 for his drawing of the adjacent effigy of the lady (labeled of the Clifford family, 1320). Wild, Worcester, 21-2. Britton, Worcester, has a view from the south labeled “Prince Arthur’s monumental chapel.” Hollis and Hollis, pt. VI, July 1842, second plate in the series. This view is just of the effigy, without the canopy, angels, etc. The vestments themselves held the interest of these artists and presumably their audience. Wild, Worcester, 21-2.

568 the faux jewels applied to the borders of the garments.529 Damage had occurred by the early nineteenth century as recorded by Wild and confirmed by Blore's drawings and those made for Britton's publication.530 The tomb chest with figures is somewhat unusual, although the concept of having seated figures in quatrefoils along the length of a tomb was also used on early thirteenthcentury tombs at Exeter (Cat. 8) and London (Cat. 63). It is likely that the figures here represent apostles, based on their number and on the recognition of some attributes, such as the saltire cross held by ?St Andrew, and the book and bird on the knees of ?St. John the Evangelist.531 The chest was at least partly colored, as evident from the red fragments on the ground of the quatrefoils noted above.532

YORK MINSTER At York only one effigy survives from this period, plus two table tombs with low-relief crosses attributed to archbishops. A metal effigy for a dean no longer survives but is

529

530

531

532

Hollis and Hollis, pt. VI, July 1842. See also the analysis by Park, “Survey,” no. 20, and “The Giffard Monument,” 21, where he expresses confidence in the accuracy of the Hollis and Hollis plate. Wild, Worcester, 21-2: “The feet are placed against an animal, too much defaced to be defined, and the hands are entirely gone.” Blore’s Add Ms 42008, fol. 12, shows damage similar to that seen today. The proof copy in the Yale Center for British Art for Britton’s 1835 publication shows that the engraver included more detail than actually existed. The proof engraving by Le Keux shows a dog at the effigy’s feet, but this is simply an interpretation of an unclear form in a watercolor sketch of the same view of the tomb. Britton, Worcester, 16, noted in his text that the effigy and that of the woman east of it are sadly mutilated. Gough, Sepulchral Monuments, vol. I, 13, had identified them as such in the late eighteenth century, naming especially Peter, Paul, Andrew, Thomas, Bartholomew, and James the less. Carter's drawings of c.1784, BL Add Ms 29926, fols. 165 and 166, provided careful details of the figures on the base. Park, “The Giffard Monument,” 21, n.54, noted the figure of John the Evangelist is similar to the same subject on the tomb of Bishop de Luda at Ely. Park, “Survey,” no. 20; idem, “The Giffard Monument,” 21, noted that the chests had been covered with a grey stone wash, but traces of red paint “almost certainly vermilion” are visible on the inner surfaces of a number of the quatrefoil frames. He suggested that the color found on the de Vere tomb can offer some idea as to that on the Worcester tomb.

569 known through documentation (Cat. 68).

Cat. 36 Current location: freestanding in the central chapel, in the east aisle of the south transept Identification: Archbishop Walter de Gray (d.1255) Major features: A Purbeck effigy on a tapered slab, raised on a low, stepped base, under a superstructure of nine slender Purbeck shafts and a canopy of solid masonry in the form of a gabled roof with six dormers. The shafts of the canopy are built into the base around the coffin, and are not an afterthought or later addition. The archbishop's effigy is in high relief, the head projecting boldly from the slab. His body is surrounded by an architectural niche, also in high relief. Around his head is an acutely gabled canopy with an elongated inner trefoil. At the sides of this central opening, a 'roof' slopes gently backwards. In front of this roof, on each side of the central gable, stands an angel, shown full-length and elegantly upright, with one foot gently kicking backwards, rather than swooping down from clouds in the corner. They face the bishop, holding chains for thuribles that once swung out towards the gable, and have high wings decorated with low-relief feathers folded together behind them. Along each side of the bishop extends a colonnette, carved in the round several centimeters above the slab and supported along its length by seven spurs of foliage. The foliage, thick stems ending in trilobed leaves, springs from the slab and curls around the colonnettes in multiple

570 layers. The colonnettes have rounded capitals and bases, and are supported at the bottom by corbel busts swooping out of clouds carved in wavy lines at the bottom of the slab (hence, angels?). One of these corbel figures places a proprietary hand on de Gray's foot. One displays a wrinkled brow (like some of the corbel heads in Salisbury Cathedral). In between the corbel busts is a beast, curving sinuously under the archbishop's feet. Its head twists up the right side of the archbishop's body, where its mouth is pierced by the base of the crosier. The effigy has both hands raised up to shoulder level and carved in the round, the left holding the crosier and the right in a gesture of blessing. The relief of his body is essentially contained within the depth of the colonnettes around him, though his raised arms and chest/stomach extend above the colonnettes. The shoulders are narrow, and the figure protrudes more visibly and roundly at the abdomen, in a very similar shape to the three effigies at Carlisle, Ely, and Lichfield (Cats. 2, 4, 12). The effigy is bearded and sports a mustache. His hair protrudes a little below the mitre. The head rests on a cushion. His crosier head is formed like a crook rather than curled inwards. The figure is vested in an amice, chasuble, dalmatic, tunicle, and alb, with a stole and maniple with carved fringes. The various layers of clothing are indicated by slight differences in relief. He is gloved and wears a ring. The chasuble ripples with frequent sharp and narrow folds, consistently spaced (cf. Cats. 2, 4, 12; these folds are more delicate than the three, are in lower relief, more numerous, closer together, and more regularly spaced). The chasuble is extremely long, with gentle overlapping where it hangs below the arms. The lower garments gently curve to suggest the shape of the legs,

571 in a more sophisticated manner than Cats. 2, 4, 12, where the legs are much more crudely and obviously rendered. The hemlines of the lower garments end in multiple tight curls formed by the fabric folding back over itself. The gatherings at the hem are, however, more angular, crimped and pinched, than the more rounded hemlines of King John or of the Purbeck bishop's effigy at Worcester (Cat. 34). The figure displays an unusual amount of asymmetry and energy, paralleled only by the effigy of Giles de Bridport at Salisbury (Cat. 20). The crosier crosses the body from his left hand to the outside of his right foot. The sculptor of this effigy demonstrated a rare sensitivity to the placement of the feet in relation to the beast and crosier. He allowed the unencumbered left leg to stride forward, with toe pointed downwards, while the right foot rests closer to the slab, planted firmly on top of the beast's back, out of the way of the stabbing crosier which crosses in front. The effigy represents a bishop rather than an archbishop. This is unusual given that Walter de Gray made arrangements for his burial in St Michael's chapel as early as 1241. The Purbeck columns that support the overhead canopy have rounded bases originating in the stepped base of the tomb chest and are topped by rich stiff-leaf foliage capitals in various configurations. They support trefoiled arches elaborated with three orders of roll moldings (three on each side, two at each end). Decorating the spandrels in low relief are various patterns of long sinuous stems with fleshy leaves, usually trilobed. The inside of the arcades are not decorated (cf. Cat. 20), and the ceiling is formed of flat slabs of Purbeck rather than vaults. The very solid freestone cap is also decorated with

572 trefoiled niches under gables, similar in size and character to the Purbeck ones. They have elaborate stiff-leaf capitals with head stops for the gables above. Again, each capital and head stop is different. The solid masonry at the back of these niches must once have been painted with scenes; red paint survives in the background of the niches, and gilding surviving on the head stops. A protective iron grate from 1804 was removed after 1968, but the holes are still visible in the lower, limestone part of the base.533 The upper limestone slab (below the effigial slab) has been replaced. Existing plaster finials were added in 1803-5 by Francis Bernasconi, and the sinuous foliage in the Purbeck spandrels of the canopy is largely restored in stucco.534 There are some minor flaws to the effigy (the head is missing from the angel at the archbishop's right shoulder; the end of the effigy's right foot is damaged; a thin diagonal crack across the bishop’s belly has been filled) but the tomb is otherwise in very good condition. History, identification and scholarship: The monument has been comprehensively studied as a result of a restoration campaign beginning in 1967, the results of which were published in 1971; more recently the tomb was the subject of an article by Matthew Sillence.535 Most importantly it was discovered that below the Purbeck effigy was a flat stone coffin lid covered with a painted effigy of an archbishop. The structure of the monument is such that the coffin is

533

534 535

Addleshaw, “Architects, sculptors, painters, craftsmen, 1660-1960 in York Minster,” Architectural History 10 (1967), 89-119, for the railing added in 1804; these were removed in the late-1960s restoration. See Addleshaw for the finials, and Ramm et al, 115-8 for the stucco spandrels. Ramm et al; Sillence, “The two effigies of Archbishop Walter de Gray.” See also Brown, 'Our magnificent fabrick'.

573 mostly below the pavement, the painted lid projecting 8.5 inches above the medieval floor level. Conflicting points of view about the painted lid have implications for the date of the effigy and the entire superstructure: was the entire monument planned this way by Walter de Grey and possibly begun before his death, or was the superstructure conceived and completed after his death? Rouse's study of the painting shows it is of high quality and uses expensive pigments, suggesting it was meant to be on view.536 The slab itself has carefully incised moldings around the edges like many surviving plain or low-relief coffin lids that were intended to be seen above the floor. The base for the canopy was built around the coffin and its painted lid, and so was clearly added afterwards. The question becomes one of intent. Was the painted effigy intended by de Gray to be his permanent memorial; when were the Purbeck effigy and superstructure added; and did de Gray himself make arrangements to cover the painted lid? If not, to whom can we attribute these highly visible features of this tomb? Whatever the intention for the painted coffin lid, Rouse believes that the time between putting the lid in place and adding the Purbeck superstructure was relatively short because much of it transferred to the underside of the layer of rubble put over the top of it. Brown agrees with this and concludes it was not intended for long-term show, only to be seen while they awaited the arrival of the Purbeck effigy. She also suggests that the entire monument as we see it today was probably planned by de Grey. Sillence, however, posits another scenario, in which the painted effigy was de Gray's intended permanent memorial, and the superstructure was a slightly later addition, perhaps commissioned by de Gray's wealthy nephew Dean Langton (d.1279), who prepared for 536

In Ramm et al, 120-4.

574 himself a sumptuous table tomb of brass with a bronze effigy (Cat. 68). Sillence finds other flat tomb lids that were similarly finished with paint or other colorful media, and his work raises questions about the original appearance of the many now-plain lids that survive. The restoration confirmed the presence of red paint and gilding on the overhead canopy. The canopy itself is unusual, and the authors of the 1971 study believe it is the first of such designs. They and Brown suggest association with a saint's reliquary, that it expresses a sort of functional ambiguity because of the solidity of the canopy, as if it were a feretory holding a body.537 That the Purbeck effigy bears the trappings of a bishop rather than an archbishop has been cause for speculation, with some assuming it was a mistake, or that the effigy was ordered rapidly or that the executors had to be content with whatever happened to be available at the workshop. However, the effigy is clearly of excellent quality, exhibiting the skills of a great Purbeck carver. That it was rushed or that they 'made do' seems unlikely. Brown notes that at the time of its production, official representations of the archbishops of York on seals in the late twelfth and thirteenth centuries were inconsistent in their iconography.538 De Gray's seal shows him with a pallium and a crosier, as on the seals of Archbishops Thurstan, William, Roger and Geoffrey before him. Archbishop de Ludham holds a cross staff on his seal, but Walter Giffard reverted to a crosier. To add to her evidence, the archbishop was buried with a crosier, not a cross-staff. Brown, thus,

537

538

Ramm et al, 114-20; Brown, 'Our magnificent fabrick', 41-2: “The upper part of the de Grey tomb was painted to resemble a feretory made of precious materials, for traces of red colour and gilding survive on the freestone elements.” Brown, 'Our magnificent fabrick,' 39.

575 thinks that the Purbeck was made specifically to order, especially since it fits so well in such a complicated monumental surround (other Purbeck effigies show considerable variation in size). However, Brown does not address the lack of pallium on the effigy, a feature which is consistently evident on all the seals, even those of archbishops with crosiers. Sillence believes that the lack of pallium suggests that de Gray himself was not overseeing the production of the effigy. He also notes that the omission could have been rectified by adding a pallium in paint. There is no inscription on the tomb, but by undisputed tradition it has been attributed to de Gray.539 Medieval documentation for de Gray's burial arrangements in the cathedral survives, and Matthew Paris confirms that he was buried in the Minster. It appears that by 1230 de Gray intended to set up a chantry, and in 1241 his register documents that he wished to be buried before the altar dedicated to St Michael which he had founded. The presence of a vault boss featuring St Michael in the chapel in which the tomb is placed confirms that his wishes were granted. At this altar, Mass was to be said daily for his soul by three priests and one clerk.540 The choice of the south transept may be because he was associated with its construction, or at the very least with the construction of its central chapel. The central chapel is wider than the others in the south transept, and it has been speculated that this may have been intentional, i.e. that architectural provision was made for his tomb early in the design process.541 Stylistic analysis of the effigy leads to a mid-century date, but this method does 539

540

541

Dodsworth in 1618 (Bodl MS Dodsworth 161) did not record an inscription on the tomb, although Leland, vol. V, 135, in c.1540 identified a tomb in the south transept as belonging to de Gray. Raine, ed., Register, or Rolls, of Walter de Gray, 160-2 and 47-8 has mention of the chantry, and pp. 190-1 for the altar to St Michael. See the summary of documentation in Ramm et al. 104. Brown, 'Our magnificent fabrick,' 37.

576 not yield a more specific date. Sarah Brown notes some tendencies to broad-fold drapery, though with “residual traces of the u-shaped pouches at the intersections of the folds that are so noticeable a feature of the drapery of the effigy of Bishop Robert Bingham at Salisbury, for example” (Cat. 19). She finds in the effigy many similarities to the effigy of Kilkenny at Ely (d.1256; Cat. 4), and concludes that these features suggest de Gray ordered it not long before his death in 1255. She adds that the spandrels with foliage are reminiscent of carving in the north transept of Westminster, c.1250. Marion Roberts noted that the drapery exhibits the older style of rigid v-folds rather than the more modern broad-fold style.542 Gardner links the de Gray effigy with those at Ely (Cat. 4), Worcester (Cat. 34) and other mid-century effigies.543 I see enough similarities between the de Gray effigy and the trio at Ely, Carlisle and Lichfield (Cats. 2, 4, 12), all c.1255, that it seems likely they were produced in the same workshop. The three-dimensionality of the colonnettes on either side of the effigy, their supporting foliage, the fall of the drapery at the hem line, the relative sharpness and prominence of the face, the general disposition and massing of the body, as well as the fall of the folds of the chasuble, are all seen in the Ely/Carlisle/Lichfield trio. The head canopy, the beast, the pose of the angels, and of course the entire architectural superstructure are, however, different. The de Gray effigy also shares some similarities with the Bridport effigy at Salisbury (Cat. 20), particularly that the heads and head canopies are of similar height and proportions, and that both effigies suggest movement through asymmetrical placement of the feet. However, variations exist in the pose of the angels, the embellishment of the vestments,

542 543

Roberts, “Bridport,” 568. A Gardner, 157.

577 and the hemline and general treatment of the garments, those on the Bridport effigy being much cleaner and simpler. Tombs at York have received more interest from early historians than in most cathedrals.544 Early plans show the tomb in the same location as today; some illustrate its relation to other tombs and the chapel screens.545 Several early sketches of the monument survive, including a copy of one taken for William Dugdale in 1641, one by Henry Johnston c.1670, and one by James Torre in c.1691.546 The earlier two are sophisticated, taken from the north side and showing the three arches of the canopy on the long sides of the monument. That by Torre is by comparison inexperienced, but mostly correct in its essentials, and he provides a written description which the others do not: “In the sd Chappell is erected for Walter Gray Abp this Tomb of blue Marble about 3 yds long. On the Table whereof lyes upon his back the Effigies of the Ld Abp within a Tabernacle. Mytred & in his pontificalibus holding a Cross-staff [sic; the word crosier is crossed out and replaced with Cross-staff] in his left hand wherewith he is piercing the mouth of a

544

545

546

Early documentation on York tombs includes the following: Leland's notes, vol. V, 134-7, taken between 1535 and 1543; Roger Dodsworth's collection of epitaphs compiled c.1618 (Bodl MS Dodsworth 161); William Dugdale's notes and drawings taken in 1641 and 1646 (a manuscript copy survives in a volume compiled in 1667, College of Arms, MS “Yorkshire Arms”); Henry Johnston's notes and drawings from 1669-71 (Bodl MS Top Yorks C.14); Henry Keep's “Monumenta Eboracensia,” 1680 (Cambridge, Trinity College Library); James Torre's notes and sketches from c.1691 (York Minster Library, YMA Ms LI (7)); Samuel Gale's manuscript, “A brief historicall view of the severall foundations and building of the cathedral church of York in three parts,” c.1700 (YMA Add MS 43). Torre, c.1691, fol. 98r, published in Sillence; YMA 336/0S, a pre-1726 plan, reprinted in Brown; Dugdale, Monasticon, vol. 8, for Coney's c.1826 plan which shows the tomb with an iron surround, as do illustrations and the plan in Britton, York, 1819. Poole and Hugall, 160, mistakenly place the tomb in the north transept. Willis mislabeled the tombs on his printed plan, Survey, vol. I, 1, but correctly recorded them in his published text, Survey, vol. I, 4. The identification is also incorrect in his manuscript, Bodl Ms Willis 46, fols. 16V and 18, where he says the tomb in question belongs to Archbishop Sewall, and the tomb to the north is that of de Grey. College of Arms, MS “Yorkshire Arms” fol. 123v; Bodl MS Top. Yorks. C.14, fols. 29v-30r; YMA MS LI (7), fol. 110r, respectively. The first two have been published by Sillence.

578 dragon that lyes at his feet between 2 Mens heads. About the borders of the Sd Table stand 10 Round pillars [his sketch shows 8, 4 on each side, but the total in reality is 9, with an additional one at the east end] raised to their floured Chaptiers about 1 yd & ½ high whereon are turned the Arches that bear up the Canopy over the defunct.” Samuel Gale's c.1700 manuscript description of the church notes that “this monument remains to this day as beautiful as it was at first, and not at all ruinated by time it is made of the same artificiall marble as the pillars of this part of the church arch.” He mistakenly says that the canopy was supported by eight pillars, rather than nine.547 This inaccuracy was repeated in many subsequent publications by others.548 In Drake’s Eboracum, or the History and Antiquities of the City of York, 1736, appears the earliest published illustration, based on Dugdale's drawing. His discussion in the text says de Gray was buried before the altar of St Michael, “in the south end of the cross isle which he himself had erected. His tomb, as appears by the annexed plate, is a curious Gothick performance of grey, but what others call factitious [sic], marble. And tradition has constantly averred that his body was deposited in the canopy over the pillars, as dying under sentence of excommunication from the Pope, and therefore not suffered burial in holy ground. I am sorry to be the occasion of overthrowing this fine story, which has so long been a great embellishment to the description our vergers give of the church and monument, but in reality the whole is false.”549 Richard Gough was the first to look closely at the tomb, 547 548 549

YMA Add MS 43, 28. See for example Gent, 26. Drake, 427. Drake got permission to investigate; workmen drilled into the canopy and found that it was solid masonry nearly a yard in. A very inaccurate engraving shows the effigy between oversized canopy columns, with no corbel heads at the bottom or angels at top corners of the slab. The crosier is turned in the wrong direction. The proportions are miscalculated, there is entasis on the columns, and the details of the head stops are fanciful. No stiff leaf capitals are shown.

579 though his observations unfortunately were not accompanied by an engraving: “Archbishop Grey's monument at York, in the south end of the transept erected by him, is a curious piece of work of grey marble. His figure, pontifically habited and gloved, piercing a snake with his crosier wrapt in his mantle, lies under a very plain arch, with round pillars finely foliated. On the pediment of this arch stand angels censing him: under his feet two human figures trod on by him writh [sic] themselves, while a dragon bites the end of the crosier. The canopy above consists of three arches, and the pediment part of three or more such shorter with their proper pediments, the busts on the tops of whose pillars totally misrepresented in Mr Drake's print are really the usual figures.”550 The earliest accurate illustration is that drawn by Edward Blore and engraved by Le Keux for John Britton's 1819 publication.551 Blore's view shows the correct number and disposition of columns, and the effigy, angels and other attending figures correctly, even to the minute detail of the missing head on the angel at the archbishop's right.

550 551

Gough, Sepulchral Monuments, vol. I, 49. Britton, York, pl. XIV, a longitudinal section showing de Gray’s monument in the center of the chapel, end-on, with railing around it. Pl. XVII is the engraving of de Gray’s monument in context, while pl. XXXVI shows the cathedral's effigies, including that of de Grey. BL, Add Ms 42009, fol. 3, is an original drawing by Blore, a slightly oblique view taken from the south side.

580 Appendix II: Catalogue of extant effigies of non-episcopal clergy

ABBOTSBURY, DORSET Cat. 37 (not seen, no image) Current location: Porch of St Nicholas's church, Abbotsbury Identification: unidentified abbot Major features: Purbeck effigy of an abbot on a rectangular slab. The slab is unadorned; the abbot stands alone with no additional architectural or foliate sculpture. The figure rises only slightly from the slab, the relief deepest at the abdomen and thighs, which rise just over four inches from the slab. The section of slab below the knees is missing. The abbot is tonsured, and holds a crosier at the right side of his body. He is unshaven, and his face inclines slightly to his left. The crosier head curls inwards towards the abbot's head. He holds a book in his left hand, in front of his chest. The amice sits low. The maniple hangs from the left arm and is indicated clearly in relief. The chasuble is formed of many sharp v-folds, lumpy in profile and irregular in distribution. Where the arms are raised, the excess cloth of the chasuble is drawn around the figure like a cloak. This area, too, is amplified by many v-shaped folds. History, identification, and scholarship: The creases in the chasuble liken this to the earlier of the two effigies at Glastonbury (Cat. 41), although the head and slab are more rudimentary than its

581 Glastonbury counterpart. Newman and Pevsner dated it to the early thirteenth century.1 Drury estimated that the slab, which is 2 ft 9 inches wide, would originally have been 6 ft 6 inches in length.2 Drury noted that Hutchins, in his History of Dorset, recorded its discovery on the original floor of the abbey church, “which lies buried beneath the present churchyard on the south side of St Nicholas's Church.” According to Drury, this effigy shows “ample evidence of development in technique,” particularly in the figure's depth of relief, the full folds of the chasuble, and the undercutting of the crosier head between the head and the abbot's right hand. On these bases he assigns a date at the end of the twelfth century. Drury observed that the part of the lower section where the stole and alb should be has been restored in cement representing (erroneously) repeated folds of the chasuble. His line drawing shows it without these restorations. The Conway Archive at the Courtauld Institute has two photographs.

AVON DASSETT, WARKS Cat. 38 (not seen, no image) Location: north wall of chancel Identification: an unidentified deacon Major features: Forest 'marble' effigy in low relief on a tapered slab, which rests on a low tomb chest.3 The low chest is also tapered, and the long sides are formed of two plain panels

1 2 3

Newman and Pevsner, BE, Dorset, 72. Drury, “Early Ecclesiastical Effigies,” 256. Pevsner and Wedgwood, BE, Warwickshire, 80; Bloxam, “On some rare and curious sepulchral monuments in Warwickshire,” 25-8; and A Gardner, 158, all describe it as Forest marble.

582 with a rounded engaged shaft in between and at each corner. It is currently situated against a north wall, so only the south side is visible, under a mural ogee arch with inner cinquefoiled molding and ballflower decoration. The mural arch was built when the church was rebuilt in 1868, but it is similar to one depicted in a pre-1865 view of the tomb.4 The effigy stands within an elaborate niche, the canopy of which is formed by a rounded arch topped by an architectural frieze, much like the canopy on the St Michael slab at Ely (Fig. 6). Engaged colonnettes with bell-shaped capitals flank the figure, and an additional ?hollow chamfer and roll molding surround the edge of the slab. The architectural canopy has a central building with one row of rounded arch windows, flanked by two tall towers/pinnacles at either side, each with three tiers of windows. In between the central building and side tower are intermediary 'wings' of a building. The roofs are topped by rounded pinnacles, as seen on the Ely and Peterborough effigies (Fig 6; Cats. 48, 49). The figure holds his arms tightly in front of him, the left hand in front of his chest with the palm facing awkwardly outwards, the right hand down by his waist and holding a scroll which unfolds down the length of his legs. The body rises little except to indicate the additional thickness of the arms, and the drapery is rendered in linear, low relief folds. He wears the garments of a deacon, namely a dalmatic, stole, maniple and alb, each visible in slight relief above the other garments. The stole is worn on the deacon's right side. 4

View published in 1865 in Bloxam, “On some rare and curious sepulchral monuments in Warwickshire,” 25-8; idem, Companion to the Principles of Gothic Ecclesiastical Architecture (1882), 57-63. He published two images, a side view and a birds-eye view.

583 The deacon's head is uncovered. He appears to be tonsured, with his hair combed in separate straight strands down onto his forehead, ending in a slight stylized curl. The eyes bulge a little from the face. His feet rest on a plinth, but a considerable area below the plinth is reserved for an animal (heavily damaged) and stylized foliate sprigs. A birdseye view of the effigy published first in 1865 suggests the animal was a beast with feathered wings and a long neck.5 History, identification, and scholarship: An engraving from c.1865 shows the effigy and chest in the south wall, under a very similar arch to that in which it is placed today.6 Bloxam's 1882 republication of the same article stated that the church was rebuilt in 1868, and that the effigy was moved to the north side at that time. His illustration, however, based on the earlier publication, continued to show it on the south side. Bloxam recognized that the effigy and its mural arch were not original to each other, and also recognized the unusual nature of the effigy itself. Bloxam stated that the effigy might represent Hugh, onetime rector of the church, around the year 1232. The current web site of the Avon Dassett Council also suggests that it might represent Hugh (d.1240). However, this is an instance where only one known name can be associated with the church from the thirteenth century, and so the temptation is to marry that name with the person commemorated in the church's only

5 6

Ibid. Bloxam, “On some rare and curious sepulchral monuments in Warwickshire,” 25-8. However, Bloxam's 1865 text says it was on the north side. Did he confuse his south and north? Or had the effigy been moved even by then? I do not think it is a case of the plate being reversed, as the arm posture (as much as can be seen on the image) indicates a southerly position. Bloxam mostly used the effigy as evidence for a deacon's dress.

584 surviving effigy. In style, however, the effigy is earlier in date. While in motif and compactness of the pose it is reminiscent of twelfth-century effigies, the figure and architecture on this effigy are in fact deeper in relief than the similar slab at Ely (Fig. 6) and similar abbots' effigies at Peterborough (Cats. 48, 49). A date in the early part of the thirteenth century is likely. Gardner noted that it was carried out in a “flat technique with Romanesque canopy” but did not offer a date, noting only that it was an early example.7 Pevsner and Wedgwood admitted that the compact pose, the style of carving, and the architectural details “one would call without hesitation C12. But at his feet are stiff-leaf foliage and a taut bird, impossible so early. So 1210 may be the most likely date.”8 More recently, Saul suggested a date of c.1220.9 Kemp believes that the chest on which it sits is original to the effigy, and thinks it represents one of the earliest examples of effigies with raised, decorated chests.10 The chest seems to be the same as that shown in the pre-1868 engraving.

CERNE ABBEY, DORSET Cat. 39 (not seen, no image) Current location: Cleveland Museum of Art Identification: unidentified abbot Measurements: surviving piece is 3 ft 6 inches long, 19 inches wide at elbows

7 8 9 10

A Gardner, 158 and fig. 311. Pevsner and Wedgwood, BE, Warwickshire, 80. Saul, English Church Monuments, 154-5. Kemp, 25, however, stated that the chest had quatrefoils, which I cannot see in any of the images, nor were they mentioned by Pevsner and Wedgwood, who simply noted the “three short colonnettes.”

585 Major features: Fragment of a Purbeck abbot's effigy, of which only the torso and head survive. The face has been much damaged, as has the right arm and crosier that it once held. The slab itself is also heavily damaged, and most of the slab around the head is missing. The abbot is tonsured, and his hair is separated into parallel locks with a tight curl at each end. He is bearded and mustached. The face is in high relief and the head may rest on a pillow.11 The body swells more over the abdomen than the chest, and the left hand holds a book with a strap down by his hip. The right hand, which held the staff, was placed low against the upper thigh. The folds of the chasuble, like the hair, are quite distinctive, in small, shallow, closely spaced u-shaped curves, beginning at the top of the figure and continuing all the way down. The folds under the arm are in similarly low, delicate relief. There seem to be some subtle hairpin loops across the front. The amice ends in soft folds at the throat. History, identification and scholarship: I have not seen this fragment, and most information comes from the museum catalogue which includes photographs, and from Drury's work on early Purbeck effigies.12 The effigy was bought by the Cleveland Museum in 1977 from the museum of General August Henry Lane Fox Pitt-Rivers in Dorset. The sculpture is said to have been found in Cerne Abbey in Dorset in 1810. Information about Cerne Abbey is severely lacking, so attributing this monument to a particular abbot is impossible. Drury added that Hutchins's nineteenth-century edition of the History of Dorset had printed 11 12

Drury thought there probably was a cushion behind the head, but it is weathered. The Bulletin of the Cleveland Museum of Art (March and April 1979), 101-104; Drury, “Early Ecclesiastical Effigies”; Hutchins, History and Antiquities of Dorset, 3rd edition, vol. IV (1873), 27.

586 information about a fragmentary piece of another abbot's effigy that was also found in 1810, although nothing survives of that piece today. Of the missing piece, “it is stated to have been of marble and the drawing shows a tapering coffin lid with hollow-chamfered edges on which is carved an ecclesiastic holding a book to his breast with his left hand.” Hutchins's publication includes a plate with both fragments, as well as with a part of the current effigy's lower body that has since been lost. Drury complains that Hutchins's plate is not high quality, but it does show the extent of damage to the pieces. Drury himself includes a line drawing of the surviving effigy, which he shows with a deep crack across the chest. The museum photograph does not show this crack. Drury admired the effigy as “one of the finest products of the marblers' art” and believed it to be one of the best of the early Purbeck works. Drury noted that, “the style and attitude as well as the skilful [sic] rendering of the detail of this effigy definitely fix the date as early 13th century.” The author of the Cleveland catalogue dates it to around 1225 based on style and the following comparisons: the folds of the chasuble are similar to the standing female figure in Winchester, c.1225, and the “cubic mass of the head” and the curls in the beard are similar to King John's effigy and the Purbeck effigy of a bishop in Worcester (Cat. 34). But the fall of the drapery over the arms is softer than those on King John, which they believe means makes the abbot's effigy earlier, and they suggest the folds over the chest pre-date the effigy of Longespee at Salisbury, c.1230-40 because they are lower in relief. The hair, as they note and I agree, is very like that for King John. The comparisons I would make are slightly different. The drapery of the effigy is remarkably similar to effigies at Sherborne (Cat. 56), at Shaftesbury (Cat. 54), and at

587 Glastonbury (Cat. 42), all with softly curving, busy, silky folds across the front of the chasuble. Unfortunately none of these are securely dated. The lack of overlapping folds of excess cloth below the arms places the effigy before the 1240s. Sherborne and Shaftesbury are also in Dorset, and the three effigies may have been made at the same workshop.

CIRENCESTER, GLOUCS Cat. 40 (not seen, no image) Current location: Lady chapel Identification: unidentified priest Major features: Fragmentary effigy of a priest, the upper part above the shoulders broken and missing. The effigy is probably of blue lias stone.13 I have not seen this effigy, nor is there any scholarship on it. An image can be found in the Courtauld Institute's Conway Archive. It is a broad figure, taking up almost all of the tapered slab. There is a chamfered molding along the slab's edge, but no colonnettes and therefore probably it originally had no canopy around the head. The priest's feet rest on a beast with a curling serpent-like tail. In profile the figure does not curve in the shape of the body, giving it a rectangular overall massing. The priest's hands are folded together in prayer. The drapery, now much worn, was rendered in asymmetrical v-shaped folds, breaking in an uneven pattern along the front of the figure. The extra cloth of the chasuble hangs under the arms 13

D Verey and A Brooks, BE, Gloucestershire, vol. I (2002 reprint), 254.

588 folds back on itself, a feature beginning to appear in the 1240s. In overall massing and in treatment of drapery, it is very like Cat. 32. It dates towards the end of the thirteenth century.14

GLASTONBURY ABBEY From Glastonbury abbey, two thirteenth-century effigies of abbots survive, now placed in the remains of the abbot's kitchen.

Cat 41 (not seen, no image) Current location: abbot's kitchen Identification: unidentified abbot Major features: This Purbeck effigy is the least sophisticated of the pair that survive, and is probably the older of the two survivals. The tapered slab has the abbot standing under a slightly pointed cinquefoiled arch, with a gable over the top. The decoration on this canopy is minimal, the gable having only a thin molding and the inner arch no molding at all. There is no undercutting or openwork; it is a solid canopy jutting out a few inches from the slab. There are no colonnettes supporting the canopy. There may be some carving in the spandrels, but without seeing the effigy in person, I cannot make the sculpture out. The effigy stands on top of a beast. The figure takes up the entire width of the slab. The figure has both arms raised up by his shoulders. Although the hands are missing, it is a stance that is found on most 14

Verey and Brooks, 254, say thirteenth century; Ida Roper, 604, classified it as fourteenth-century.

589 of the bishops' effigies, and it is possible that he was blessing with the right hand while the left held the crosier, the head of which is visible against the canopy. It consists of an ivy or maple leaf pattern on a solid crook, much like that on Bridport's effigy (Cat. 20). The abbot is mitred. The carving is stiff and formal, with the folds of the chasuble rendered in a strict v-pattern, lumpy in profile rather than soft and expressive. The entire front of the chasuble is busy with folds, unevenly spaced and continuing up almost to the shoulders; the bottom of the chasuble is slightly pointed. Below the arms, the voluminous cloth of the chasuble creates slight overlapping folds. The dalmatic, tunicle, and alb fall in tubular vertical pleats, the legs barely visible below. This seems a clumsier version of some of the mid-century bishops' effigies. The v-folds on the chasuble are similar to (but clumsier than) those of Bishop Hugh of Northwold at Ely (Cat. 3), and the tubular drapery at the legs and the solid hemline at bottom similar to (but clumsier than) Bishop Kilkenny's effigy at Ely (Cat. 4) The head, in high relief like the entire body, seems unnaturally wide. History, identification, and scholarship: The effigy was evidently discovered in 1783.15 It was soon set up in the surviving structure of the abbot's kitchen. It was drawn twice by John Carter in 1784. His first view is of the effigy among a grouping of columns and other objects dug up from the ruins, as his description says. It is shown in very little detail, but is recognizable because of the canopy and the shape of the slab. The second drawing is a closeup of the effigy, showing 15

See Gough, Sepulchral Monuments, vol. I, clii; and BL Add Ms 6754, fol. 259, where in a note Kerrich wrote that “the little guidebook tells us this figure was dug up in the abby [sic] church, near the NE pillar of the great tower, in the year 1793 [sic].”

590 mitre, canopy (with one head stop and small crockets on the gable), and the hands broken.16 A drawing in Gough's private collection, probably also by Carter, shows that the spandrels were broken off, and the crosier ended in the beast's mouth.17 By the time that Kerrich wrote about the effigy in his notes at the end of the eighteenth century, a guidebook had been published, and the effigy had been mounted on the wall.18 Kerrich also noted that the effigy's feet rested on a lion, and that it was well-preserved and of Purbeck marble. Antiquaries were uncertain if the effigy represented a bishop or an abbot. The abbots of Glastonbury were mitred. The guidebook that Kerrich saw called it an abbot, but Kerrich said “I think it certainly is not, for he is giving the blessing.” Gough indicated that he thought it was a bishop, but Carter labeled his original drawing as an abbot.19 Pevsner dated the effigy to the early thirteenth century, and tentatively suggested Abbot Vigor (d.1223).20 Pamela Tudor-Craig also referred to it as the effigy of Abbot Vigor.21 However, Abbot Vigor was buried in the chapter house; if this was found in the abbey church, it seems unlikely to have been Vigor's.22 The overlapping folds seen below the

16

17

18

19 20 21

22

BL Add Ms 29926, fol. 59, is the more general view of the abbot's kitchen, while fol. 60 is the closeup of the effigy. He refers to it as a statue rather than a tomb. This was copied for Gough. Most of the sketches in this book were taken in 1784. Bodl Gough Maps 228, fol. 245, the most detailed drawing that I have yet seen for this effigy. Fol. 265 shows the inside of the kitchen, and the abbot's tomb stuck up on or by a pillar. No artist is identified, but it probably was Carter. Fol. 245 shows stones behind the effigy, but these could either be from a wall or a floor. Kerrich, BL Add Ms 6754, fol. 259, “now fixd [sic] up against the wall in the abbot's kitchen.” He included some notes, as well as a view of the crosier head, a lovely maple or ivy leaf in the center, against a solid background with simple roll molding around the edge. He also noted that the crosier was broken just below the head, and he drew a tiny crocket that he says was on the gable. Gough, Sepulchral Monuments, vol. I, clii. Pevsner, BE, South and West Somerset, 177. He made note of its cinquefoiled gable. Tudor-Craig, “Wells Sculpture,” 124. She used it as a comparison when discussing the sculpture of the second set of effigies at Wells. As also noted by F Bligh Bond, An Architectural Handbook of Glastonbury Abbey with a Historical

591 arms usually only appear after c.1260, and a date in the second half of the century is here proposed.

Cat. 42 (not seen, no image) Current location: abbot's kitchen Identification: unidentified abbot Major features: A damaged effigy slab, broken above the neck and below the feet, and separated from the original burial. No canopy survives, due to the damage to the slab, but on the abbot's right side there appears to be a remnant of an engaged colonnette defining the edge of the slab. The figure sits quite tightly within, yet rises prominently from, this framework. Whether or not the figure was mitred is unknown. The vestments are ecclesiastical, and the pose, with hands held together in front of his chest in prayer, is either of a priest (e.g. Shaftesbury, Cat. 54) or an abbot (e.g. Sherborne, Cat. 56). He may have part of a crosier in the crook of his right arm, which would confirm that he is an abbot. If this and Cat. 41 are both abbots of Glastonbury, they are surprisingly different from one another in terms of iconography, with Cat. 41 having raised arms and making a blessing gesture, while this has two hands held together in prayer. The shape of the body is much more sophisticated than the rather rectangular mass of the other surviving ecclesiastical effigy at Glastonbury (Cat. 41). The torso, shoulders and arms are defined more naturally by their rising or falling volumes. The Chronicle (1920), 20.

592 drapery hangs in soft, silky nested u-shaped curves down the front of rounded chasuble. The folds are relatively shallow and delicate, and interlock with subtle hairpin loops. This drapery is similar in character, though not as detailed, as the chasuble on Bishop Bingham at Salisbury (Cat. 19). The greater simplicity of the drapery suggests a likeness with the mid-century trio of bishops at Carlisle, Ely, and Lichfield (Cats. 2, 4, 12), though the swelling of the body is more pronounced in the three bishops' effigies, and the chasubles are shorter. Bingham and the later abbot at Sherborne (Cat. 56) offer better comparisons. A date in the 1250s is possible. This effigy is not mentioned in any of the antiquarian scholarship, nor any of the modern guide books for the cathedral. An early burial was found in the 1960s, but this effigy does not seem to have gone with it.23 When it appeared here and whence it came are not known by me.

GLOUCESTER CATHEDRAL Cat. 43 (not seen, no image) Current location: south wall of presbytery, second bay east of the crossing Identification: unidentified abbot Major features: An oolite effigy of an abbot, the slab separated from its burial and now placed on a mid-fourteenth-century bracket which projects out from the choir screen into the presbytery. I did not see this effigy in person, so this description comes mainly from 23

“Pictorial History of Glastonbury Abbey: A Pitkin Guide,” by Dr CA Ralegh Radford, and “Glastonbury Abbey the Isle of Avalon,” no author or date. Philip Rahtz, Glastonbury (English Heritage, 1993), does not mention it.

593 other sources.24 The abbot is housed within a niche with a complicated openwork canopy. The nodding canopy has three facets, with a central main gable and two smaller side gables. The main gable is acutely pointed and crocketed, and has a narrow cinquefoiled inner arch and a trefoil in its apex. There are head stops near the brow of the abbot, one with, as the Bazeleys described, “characteristic heavy curled locks of the Edwardian period,” and the other possibly a woman. Previous commentators have noted a foliate stop or boss just below one of the head stops, but this large rounded shape with naturalistic leaves is much too large and in the wrong place for a foliate stop or boss. It must be the crosier head.25 The whole canopy is supported by engaged colonnettes, the one on the abbot's right side still intact, although that on the north side has been cut away, indicating perhaps that it was at one time against a north wall. The top part of the slab, including the tip of the canopy, has been sliced off at some point, as has the bottom of the slab below the feet. It appears that this occurred when it was placed in its current location, in order to get it to fit on the fourteenth-century bracket. Rising up on either side of the effigy through the openwork of the side facets of the canopy is an angel. The angel to the abbot's right survives the most completely, and appears to have been swinging a censer towards the abbot; the censer bowl remains on the molding of the canopy (a detail not noted in any earlier descriptions but visible in the published photographs). These have wings, curly hair, and long robes. At the effigy's feet are two more attending figures, hooded and robed, who lean against the soles of the

24

25

Canon and Margaret Bazeley, 289-326, have a full description, largely copied by Ida Roper, 237-41, and others. The most recent discussion is by David Welander, 24-6, 120-1, 582. It was described as a foliate stop by Bazeley, Roper, and later by Verey and Brooks, BE, Gloucestershire, vol. II, 216.

594 abbot's feet. The southern figure is too damaged to hazard a guess as to identity, but the northern one the Bazeleys suggested is either a monk or a nun. The figure's right hand rests on its cheek, and the left supports the base of the canopy. The effigy holds a crosier in his left hand (the staff of which is broken towards the top), and in his right hand, held in front of his torso, is a model of a church, rendered with similar architectural details as the canopy itself. The abbot is tonsured, with stiff locks of hair and a curly beard. The eyes are open and the ears are overly large. The head rests on a rectangular pillow. In profile, the figure swells at the abdomen. The chasuble is long, ending within eight inches of the abbot's feet. The chasuble rests smoothly across the chest and shoulders, but across the abdomen and below the arms the cloth breaks in broad, irregular and asymmetrical folds. The amice is very prominent, with soft looping material at the throat. The vestments were painted; the Bazeleys, writing in 1904, said the chasuble was certainly blue. The more recent color photographs in Welander show additional surviving paint in the canopy and on the miniature church. History, identification, and scholarship: It has been taken as fact by all the later commentators I have read that Leland saw this effigy in the south part of the presbytery. He mentioned a “fayre marble tomb” that he attributed to Abbot Serlo (d.1104). However, Leland did not specify that there was an effigy on the tomb that he saw, as he sometimes did, and this tomb is not marble. Serlo's is, however, the only medieval ecclesiastical monument that he mentions in this location, and as Serlo had a major role in building the monastery, later commentators seem to have

595 taken it for certain that Leland saw this particular effigy, complete with its miniature model of a church. The bracket which now supports it was certainly specially made in the fourteenth century to support a monument of some kind. But the effigy has been severely cut down at both ends (perhaps to fit into this position?) and along the visible side, and placing it here seems a clumsy afterthought rather than an intentional homage to a founder, which surely would have entailed making a support that would fit the slab's dimensions more perfectly. If Leland did see this effigy, it must have been trimmed and placed here sometime between the mid-fourteenth century when the bracket was made and c.1541.26 It was certainly in this location by the 1720s, as Willis mentioned an effigy here, which he attributed to Abbot Aldred (d.1069): “On the opposite Side to Abbat Parker, on the South Side the Presbytery, is a Monument for Aldred Bishop of York and Bishop of this Diocese, viz Worcester; his Effigies is carv'd in Freestone on a Shelf Tomb; but whether this was a Coenotaph [sic], I cannot say; however, as he had been the Restorer of this Convent, the Members owed so much to him as to erect this to his Memory.”27 All commentators since have chosen to identify the effigy either as Abbot Serlo or as Abbot Aldred, both of whom were heavily involved in erecting buildings at the monastery, or Abbot Foliot (d.1243), under whose tenure the church was finished and dedicated.28

26

27 28

Haines, Guide to the Cathedral Church of Gloucester (1867), suggested the effigy was placed here under Abbot Parker (1514-39). Others (the Bazeleys, Roper, most recently Welander) said that the screen and the supporting bracket were erected under Horton (1351-77), and so the effigy must have been placed here then. They do not consider the possibility that the bracket may have been designed for something (or someone) else. Verey and Brooks, BE Gloucestershire, said the monument was moved here from a northern position when the site north of the high altar was given to Osric, which was certainly before Leland's visit. He cited no proof, however. Willis, Survey (1727), vol. II, 695-6. Serlo: Bazeley, Roper, Verey and Brooks, and Welander. Aldred: Britton, Gloucester, 1829, title page

596 Each of these identifications predates the manufacture of the effigy however, which, all are agreed, was made towards the end of the thirteenth century. Roper stated, “the natural foliage, crocket work, and the Edwardian mode of wearing the hair belong to the latter part of the 13th century, so that the effigy and the canopy cannot be assigned to a date earlier than 1280.” I agree that the effigy is later than c.1280, and can perhaps suggest even more specifically a date c.1300. The shape of the face (flat, almost concave, with large ears) is typical of the early fourteenth century. The asymmetrical broad fold dates towards the end of the century, with a good comparison in the tomb of Bishop Marchia at Wells Cathedral (d.1302). The length of the robes, which puddle around pointed shoes, is similar to the retrospective tombs at Hereford from the turn of the fourteenth century. The hair, arranged in a stiff, protruding rim around the head, is also in the style of the retrospective tombs at Hereford, of Bishop Marchia at Wells, and of Bishop Giffard at Worcester (Cat. 35). Bishop Giffard is the closest stylistic parallel. The canopy, and the angels arising out of its openwork, are very like the canopy on Giffard's effigy. Additionally, seated figures placed at the feet of an ecclesiastical effigy appear rarely. The abbot from Ramsey has this feature (Cat. 53), but Giffard's effigy also had figures by the feet, quite possibly arranged in the same way as on the Gloucester effigy. That this might be a retrospective effigy for Serlo or some other esteemed contributor to the church is definitely possible. Most commentators have focused on the

and p. 68. Bazeley (followed by Roper) said that Aldred, however, was buried at York as archbishop. Foliot: Haines, MH Bloxam, “Gloucester: The Cathedral Monuments,” Transactions of the Bristol and Gloucestershire Archaeological Society, vol. XIII (1888-9), 252-259. Welander and Roper agree with Bazeley who said that Foliot is an unlikely candidate, since the monks in the time of Edward I would not have carved it sixty years later just because he oversaw the re-dedication, nor would it be given such a place of honor here when the church was redone 100 years after Foliot's death.

597 fact that the effigy holds a model of the church, and assume that it must therefore represent one of the builder-abbots. However, we should not discount the idea that one of the later abbots might have commissioned this effigy for himself. A fourteenth-century tomb from Hereford shows that one need not be credited with constructing a church in order to be depicted with one. The tomb for Joanna de Bohun in the lady chapel at Hereford Cathedral shows on the back wall of the tomb Lady Bohun presenting a model church to the Virgin. According to Gee, she donated the church of Lugwardine to the cathedral chapter, and it is probably this transaction that is being commemorated in this donor image.29 If we can accept that a model church on a tomb might represent a generous patron in a broader sense than it has previously been understood (i.e. that the imagery is not restricted to those responsible for advancing the structure of the church building), Abbot John de Gamages (d.1306) might be a good candidate for the tomb.30 He was considered generous to his church, paid off the debts incurred by previous abbots, restored the properties and the fortunes of the monastery, obtained a number of privileges for the abbey, and was generally loved by his monks. He did not, however, undertake large construction projects. There is a detailed account of his death in the abbey's Historia. He was buried just outside the choir, near the gate to the cloisters, which was on the north side of the church. Leland mentions a lay tomb to a knight and his lady by the name of Gamage, whose tomb was in a chapel in the northeast part of the body (i.e. the nave) of the church, and which may have been related to this abbot. His burial was 29

30

L Gee, “Fourteenth-Century Tombs for Women in Herefordshire,” Hereford: Medieval Art, Architecture and Archaeology, ed. Whitehead. BAACT. (London, 1995) 132-7. There were two other thirteenth century abbots after Foliot and before John, but neither of these seem to have ended their terms in a way that would allow them to be commemorated as a generous donor (Welander, 123-4).

598 nowhere near where the effigy has been since at least c.1541, but the effigy is in a style that suggests it was made during his tenure as abbot.

GREAT STAUGHTON, HUNTS Cat. 44 (not seen, no image) Major features: Fragment of an abbot's effigy in Alwalton stone. Only the upper portion of the tapered slab survives, showing the head and surrounding canopy only. The canopy consists of a pointed cinquefoiled arch over the abbot's head, and behind the arch is an architectural frieze similar to that seen on the two earliest Peterborough effigies (Cats. 48, 49), the deacon from Avon Dasset (Cat. 38), and the Tournai slab at Ely (Fig. 6). The frieze here is simple, a one-storey row of four slim towers or pinnacles, two on each side of the central arch, each with a slightly pointed lancet and a gabled roof. In between the pinnacles is an additional pointed lancet. At the peak of the cinquefoiled arch is a foliate finial. The arch itself has two roll moldings. The abbot's head is tonsured, the amice prominent, and the plain crook of his crosier curls inwards towards the figure on its right side. The relative depth of the head and amice and the use of the cinquefoil places this in the first half of the thirteenth century rather than the twelfth, though the choice of an architectural frieze suggests an earlier date, or at least a nod towards earlier models. It is not quite as advanced as an abbot's effigy from Sherborne (Cat. 56) in its treatment of architecture or the face, and may perhaps date from the first third of the century.

599 Pevsner also noted a comparison with the abbots' effigies at Peterborough, and believed this to be a thirteenth-century effigy. He noted that it is of Alwalton, rather than Purbeck, stone, which is local to Peterborough. According to Pevsner, “the monument used to be in the garden of Gaynes Hall, and its provenance is unknown.”31 For an image, see the Conway Archive in the Courtauld Institute.

LONDON, WESTMINSTER ABBEY Westminster Abbey retains the effigies of three abbots, all in very bad condition, placed in a row against the south wall of the south cloister walk.

Cat. 45 Current location: south walk of cloister, on floor under plinth, the centrally placed of three abbots Identification: labeled Gilbert Crispin (d.1117), but possibly of Gervase (d.1160) Measurements: Width at foot, 58 cm; width at top, 80 cm; length of slab, 220 cm. Width of effigy at shoulders, 45 cm; length of figure, 180 cm. Major features: Tapered Tournai slab with low relief sunken effigy of an abbot with crosier. The effigy has a wide border or frame around it, approx. 12 cm wide at the sides and bottom, and 29 cm at the top, where the name Giselbertus Crispin is inscribed in post-medieval lettering. The border appears to have been flat, though its surface is so worn that this is

31

Pevsner, BE, Bedfordshire, Huntingdon and Peterborough, 256. See also P Lankester, “Alwalton Marble Effigies,” Church Monuments Society Newsletter 12:2 (winter 1996/7), 38-40.

600 hard to say with confidence. The effigy rises only slightly (8 cm) from a sunken ground. The surface is worn so that at present the effigy is at the same level as the border, but even when whole it probably never rose much in relief above the border (cf. Cat. 17). The abbot's feet are on a slightly slanted base. There is a slight curve cut into the slab at the top to accommodate the top of his head, reminiscent of a canopy. There is, however, no evidence of a canopy, angels, foliage, or a beast at the feet. Despite the wear of the surface, the hair (tonsured) and his ears can still be seen at the sides of the head. His crosier, which extends down the right side of his body and ends in a simple crook curling away from the body, is still clearly visible. His right arm is raised up so that his hand grasps the staff just above his shoulder. In the crevices, where the surface is not worn, the fingers and some incised lines for the sleeves can still be seen. The other arm is kept in front of the body and probably held a book; some additional thickness of the stone can be seen across the chest indicating the presence of the arm. Of the vestments only the amice can easily be discerned, but along the sides of his body, tiny, almost incised lines indicate the beginnings of the carved folds of drapery. On the whole, however, this effigy is too worn for much stylistic analysis, though in its basic layout it is similar to the Tournai effigy at Salisbury (Cat. 17). The latter, however, has much more elaborate surface treatment. History, identification and scholarship: Freda Anderson is the only recent scholar to attempt dating and identification of the three abbots' effigies at Westminster, using the antiquarian sources of Flete (a fifteenth-century monk at Westminster), Camden (c.1600), and Dingley (c.1660-85),

601 among others, to determine which effigies were in existence when, and how they were then labeled.32 As Anderson's study makes clear, however, these early sources did not always correspond to each other, and subsequent identification is necessarily fraught with the possibility of error. Because this effigy is of Tournai stone, it has received more attention from art historians than the others. For example, Gardner believed the tomb slab “may be the earliest example of this type of memorial in England.” He accepted the carved lettering identifying it as Abbot Crispin, who is of early date. Bauch compared it to other Tournai effigies, such as that at Salisbury (Cat. 17) and the effigy of St Memmius at Châlons-surMarne (Fig. 9). Unfortunately, the Westminster abbot is not discussed by Schwartzbaum, nor in detail by any others who wrote on Tournai slabs in England except Anderson. Flete described eight abbots' tombs in the south cloister, each with epitaphs, but only three with effigies (imagines): Laurence, Crispin, and Humez. By Camden's time, only four tombs were noted by him (Vitalis, Laurence, Crispin and Gervase). Crispin's effigy is described by Flete as having a pastoral staff but not a mitre. One to Gervase is described as being a low slab of black marble. Sandford in 1677 described the tomb to Gervase as being “under a Stone of Black Marble” and with a faint inscription still surviving. Thomas Dingley, writing between 1660 and 1685, mentioned tombs of Crispin, Gervase, and Laurence. Henry Keepe, writing in 1683, mentioned four tombs, but said the inscriptions were either no longer present or illegible. Anderson assesses in great detail the relative merits and problems with these and authors from the eighteenth century. 32

Freda Anderson, “Three Westminster Abbots,” 3-15.

602 Anderson concludes that the Tournai effigy must be that described by Flete, Camden, and Sandford as being of black marble and of being parvus, which Anderson translates as deficient in stone, i.e. low in relief, rather than small. Each of them attributed the low black marble slab to Abbot Gervase, although none of these early authors mentioned that it had an effigy. Anderson also notes that part of the inscription survives behind the word Giselbertus, and although it is no longer legible, she believes it must have been that to Gervase, which is shorter than that of Crispin, the other candidate for this effigy, and would have fitted into the space above the head. She also notes that Gervase had family connections to Bishop Henry of Blois, at Winchester, who is known to have used Tournai marble in his works (although ultimately he was buried in a Purbeck tomb) and to King Stephen, who may have known of the Tournai trade. For stylistic reasons, as well as her knowledge of the Tournai tomb trade, she prefers a c.1160 date rather than a date in the 1120s for Crispin. I agree with the c.1160 date based on stylistic observations, but the variations in the antiquarian evidence on which she builds much of her argument give me pause. In my opinion, Flete's description (ultimately the more reliable of any of the antiquarian sources) of Crispin's tomb could well fit this tomb slab. The inscription may have been long, but there is more room for an inscription this slab than on any other effigial slab known to me, and it could have extended around all four sides of the effigy. Additionally, Flete described Crispin's tomb as being marble, with an effigy of a tonsured abbot. The identification of the Tournai effigy, despite Anderson's best efforts, to me still seems uncertain, and could be either Crispin's or Gervase's. If Crispin's, it was made several

603 decades after his death. Cat. 46 Current location: south walk of cloister, on floor under plinth against south wall, easternmost of the three Identification: labeled Abbot Laurentius (d.1176) Measurements: Width at head, approx. 67 cm; width at foot, approx. 58 (some is missing). Length of figure, 203 cm. Major features: Tapered Purbeck slab of an abbot, so worn that very little can be said about it. The slab had some thickness to it, as the edges of the slab are approximately 5 cm above ground level. The figure on it was raised quite a bit above that, approximately 15 cm as it stands today, but probably originally even higher. There is a break on the bottom corner. The head is extremely worn, but there is no indication that it once had a mitre. There are no surviving details of the vestments. History, identification and scholarship: This Purbeck effigy of an unmitred abbot seems to date from before abbots obtained the privilege to wear the mitre, which occurred during the tenure of Abbot Laurentius (c.1158-73). The possibilities are therefore few in number: either Crispin, Herbert, Gervase, or Laurentius himself if he had the effigy made before the privilege was granted. Flete described Herbert's tomb as flush with the pavement, and Herbert's name does not crop up in any later antiquarian studies of tombs; his tomb seemed to have disappeared. The evidence for Crispin and Gervase is briefly summarized in Cat. 45.

604 Flete described Laurentius as having an effigy, but of white marble, which makes an identification to him unlikely (curiously, Anderson does not note this in her text, although it is in her transcription of Flete's descriptions printed in her appendix). Additionally, Camden implied that Laurentius's effigy was mitred. Crispin and Gervase are the two best candidates. If it was made for Crispin, it is likely that it was made posthumously, as the Purbeck trade was not much underway until c.1160 (see chapter 2). Anderson gives an identification for Crispin, but she suggests that both this and the other Purbeck effigy (Cat. 47) were made at the same time, and “not before the1180s.”

Cat. 47 Current location: south walk of cloister, on floor under plinth against south wall, westernmost of three Identification: labeled Abbot Vitalis (d.1082) and William Humez (d.1222) Measurements: Width, as is, across the shoulders (the widest part), approx. 44 cm. Length, as is, approx. 187 cm. Depth of effigy, as is at highest point, approx. 10 cm above the slab. Major features: Extremely worn Purbeck effigy of an abbot. He is raised quite significantly above the slab, approx. 10 cm at the surviving highest point. The surrounding slab has been cut back to the shape of the effigy, so no evidence for border or a possible inscription around it survives. The general shape of the abbot's head, wearing a mitre, is still visible, though worn. At the top of the mitre, a lump of stone suggests a canopy possibly once curved

605 above the figure. Both arms are held in front of his chest; the left held a crosier, which crosses his body at an angle from left hand to right foot, and the right, held high up towards his neck, might have been formed in a gesture of blessing. The staff of the crosier is most clearly visible in front of the chasuble, and it is here that one can see two widely spaced folds of drapery. The legs are now simply lumps, but the sculptor showed the natural sinking of the cloth in between them. A beast was most likely at his feet. The overall size and shape of the figure, as well as its mitre and few visible folds, suggest a thirteenth century date. Its contained pose suggests a date in the early part of the thirteenth century. The stone placed above his head reads Vitalis, but the more modern inscription above the effigy labels it William Humez. History, identification and scholarship: As this effigy is mitred, it must represent Laurence or an abbot who came after him. Anderson believes that, based on the testimony of seventeenth- and eighteenthcentury antiquaries and on process of elimination, this effigy represents Laurence. However, she does not mention that both Flete and Dingley described Laurence's effigy as a white marble effigy, which is a major omission in her study. Additionally, she assumes that if a tomb was not mentioned by seventeenth-century commentators then it was no longer standing at that time. But these early scholars routinely ignored tombs that had lost their identification. It is therefore possible that this belonged to an abbot whose inscription no longer survived, and thus it was not recorded. Stylistically, the few details that can be seen on this effigy, such as the few large and widely spaced folds on the chasuble, as well as its high relief even in its damaged state, suggest a date later in the

606 thirteenth century rather than the twelfth. The latest effigy that Flete recorded belonged, he said, to Abbot William Humez (d.1222), and Flete described this effigy as marble. Since the tomb to Humez disappeared from the antiquarian record after Flete wrote, Anderson assumes it was no longer surviving by c.1600. However, her attribution to Laurence for this effigy (albeit made posthumously, as she suggests, c.1180) is less likely than an attribution to Abbot Humez. The current label to Vitalis is even less likely than either Laurentius or Humez.

PETERBOROUGH ABBEY Cat. 48 Current location: north aisle of choir, second bay east of crossing, near the choir arcade Identification: unidentified abbot; current sign attributes it to Abbot Benedict, 1177-93 Measurements: width at feet, 45 cm; width at head, 79 cm; width at arms, approx. 50 cm. Length of slab, 206 cm; length of figure, 169 cm. Depth of figure at head, 18-19 cm; depth of figure at beast, approx. 14 cm; depth of figure at canopy, 12 cm at highest part of relief. Major features: Effigy carved in low relief on a tapered slab set just above the floor. The base is modern and the effigy separated from its original burial. The stone is Alwalton Lynch, local to the area, which has larger shells than Purbeck but has a brown or gray color and can be polished like Purbeck. The figure of the abbot stands under a trefoiled canopy with two orders of simple

607 molding. Capitals of basic foliate design top colonnettes which descend down either side of the figure and end in rounded bases. Above the trefoiled arch is a frieze of miniature buildings, of simple shapes delineated by incised lines. In the spandrels of the trefoil are two tiers of arched windows, and above, across the top of the slab, extend 5 gables, in very slight relief from the slab. The wider, central gable has three arched windows and is capped by two rounded finials. The two smaller gables to each side have a single window and a single rounded finial at the peak. Under the abbot's feet is a fantastic bicephalous winged beast (or perhaps two beasts intertwined?). One head faces to the south and its neck cranes upwards to allow it to bite the tip of the crosier. On the northern side, a second head on a sinuous, serpentlike body or tail bites the bottom of the abbot's alb. Both heads have small eyes, visible teeth, and their ears are laid back. The abbot holds his crosier in his right hand, and it crosses his body past his left foot to enter the beast's mouth. The crook of the crosier curls away from the abbot's head. His left hand holds a book with a clasp. His arms are kept close to his sides, and both hands rest on the abdomen. The abbot is tonsured, his eyes are open, and he has no beard or wrinkles. The figure is quite narrow and in profile very flat. His vestments are rendered primarily with incised lines, and therefore lay very flat on the body. Two collars are visible in relief, as well as an orphrey in slight relief that extends around the neck and down the front of chasuble. The chasuble lies smoothly over the chest, but over the arms, the gathers of cloth are incised in parallel, evenly spaced lines. Five incised and widely spaced curving Vs suggest the folds of the cloth towards

608 the bottom of the chasuble. The sleeve of the alb is visible underneath the chasuble, and the stole is also clearly visible near the feet. The alb rounds smoothly over the legs, with three vertical grooves indicating the gathers between his legs. There is a break, repaired, all the way across the abbot's thighs. The part of the crosier that had been freestanding from the slab's surface is now broken. Overall it is a well-preserved, simple but effective carving in fairly low relief and with broad expanses of smooth surface. There is no sign of paint. History, identification, and scholarship: The earliest known image of the effigy is that made for William Dugdale by draughtsman Sedgwick during a visit in 1641. Of the six effigies drawn for Dugdale, three of them have a trefoiled canopy, and none of them are an exact match for this effigy. However, one has a much more accurate rendition of the canopy than the others, and although it lacks the beast at the feet, is the likeliest option.33 The sketch is annotated, and the effigy described as “statua Will de Hutch [Hotot?] Abbatis Bury, in australe parte ecclesie.”34 A curious detail on the drawing is that the stole and orphrey are shown with a row of dots down their lengths. Given that the sculpture itself is smooth on both of these garments, one wonders if Dugdale and Sedgwick saw and recorded evidence of painted 33

34

BL Add Ms 71474. The three drawings exhibiting trefoil canopies are on fols. 125v, 126v at the top of the page, and 126. Fol. 125v is the closest match. The canopy on 125v has at the top a series of gables capped by rounded finials in a row across the top of the slab, and some blind tracery in the spandrels of the trefoil opening. In addition, this image shows a prominent orphrey, and this is the only effigy surviving in the church to have such a detail. The absence of the beast is inexplicable, but the artist drew instead some dramatic curves at the hemline near the feet—perhaps he misunderstood his own rough sketches or misremembered the beast when it came time to make the final drawing? A bicephalous beast does appear at the feet of the effigy on fol. 126v, but the canopy and figure do not match the actual effigy. The name is curious. I know of no link between William de Hutch/Hotot and Bury St Edmunds, nor is there a William who served as abbot there during this time. However, William's predecessor as abbot at Peterborough, Walter, was known as Walter of Bury. Is it possible Dugdale conflated the names?

609 decoration? The effigy was drawn by Carter in 1780.35 Carter showed that the crack across the legs existed by his visit, that the crosier was broken, and that the effigy was then lying on the pavement in a chapel in the south transept. Dugdale may also have seen it here; his description of it being in the “south part of the church” is vague, and could be taken to mean the south aisle of the choir or nave, but he tended to be more precise in his labeling if the tomb was on the south side of the choir or nave. In 1801, T Kerrich visited the church and saw the effigy in the same place, noting that it was in the middle chapel of the south transept. He remarked that the effigy then was “very dirty and I could not well see the small parts.”36 Since that time it has been rigorously cleaned and polished. Blore was at the cathedral sometime after 1830, and recorded the tomb on a low stone chest made of four blocks of stone.37 Blore's drawing indicates that the tomb was not in the center of the chapel by his visit, but rather was freestanding near a wall to its south; evidently it had been moved from the south transept by the time of his visit. Carter noted that this and the four other effigies that he drew were brought in to the church from the cloisters. However, Dugdale did not identify this particular effigy as having been brought in from the cloisters, although he did label four others as having 35

36

37

BL Add Ms 29925, fol. 86. Fols. 82-86 are birds-eye views of the abbots at Peterborough: this is one of the five included in Carter's note that “this and the four following statues now inside Peterborough Minster were brought from the cloysters.” Carter's drawing shows the double beast. A small note next to it says “flatt sculpture. A bluish gray stone.” Carter's sketch was engraved for Gough. BL Add Ms 6753, fols. 27-9. Fol. 27 is a birdseye view. His notes read, “In the middle Chapel of S Transept very flat, rather a Relievo than a statue.” Signed TK 1801. He also noted that because of the dirt his sketch was not accurate, although it does match fairly closely with what exists today. Fol. 28 is a detail of the architectural canopy to his left of the abbot's head, and the note “he has no pillow. Abbot Will Hotot? Ob 1249. Middle chapel of S ayle NB carter's print of this Pla 39 is very inaccurate.” Fol. 29 is a detail of the central section of the architecture, and a profile or section of it as if looking from the side to show depth and shape of the architectural canopy in relation to the head. BL Add Ms 42009, fol. 1. I have deduced the date of his visit based on the fact that he drew the tomb base in Cat. 51, which was rediscovered in 1830.

610 been removed from there. Gunton, writing before 1686, only mentioned the removal of three effigies from the old chapter house: “in it were buried three of the Abbots, but no Inscriptions to inform us which they were; their Marble stones with their Pourtraitures or statues exquisitely carved on them are now to be seen removed into the South Isle.”38 From the two seventeenth-century sources, it seems that this effigy was not one of those originally in the chapter house. The Bell's Cathedral guide from 1929 gives some information about the later movements of the effigy from its position in the south transept. From there “it was afterwards [no date given] moved to the New Building immediately behind the apse, where now is the monument to Bishop Chambers; and now it has been put on a stone plinth on the spot where the coffin of Abbot Alexander was found, under the mistaken impression that it was the figure found there in 1830.”39 This is its current position. For the coffin of Alexander, see Cat. 51. Kerrich queried on his sketch if the effigy represented Abbot Will Hotot (d.1249). Dugdale had also suggested this identification many years before. However, the style of this effigy indicates a much earlier date than the mid-thirteenth century. It is generally agreed among twentieth-century scholars that this is the earliest surviving effigy at Peterborough, and it is usually given a late twelfth-century date, hence its tentative current attribution to Abbot Benedict (d.1193).40 Given our current state of knowledge, I 38

39

40

Gunton, 103. Gunton's account was published after his death. His account of the monuments is pp. 92103. Much information was added by Symon Patrick, from pp. 225ff, who was responsible for getting the volume published. Sweeting, 91-98. It should be noted, however, that the caption to the image of this effigy in this book labels it as being on the south side. This must be a mistake. Kemp, 19; Pevsner, BE, Bedfordshire, Huntingdonshire and Peterborough, 319, “shafts by his sides with capitals clearly still of the C12.” Stone, 140, dated it to approximately 1190, based on “primitive

611 would agree with a late twelfth-century date, but might also suggest it could have belonged to William of Waterville (1155-75).

Cat. 49 Current location: south aisle, third bay from crossing, against the south wall Identification: unidentified abbot Measurements: Width at head, 85 cm; width at feet, 68 cm. Length along side, 215 cm; length of figure, 171 cm. Depth of the point of highest relief, the beast, approx. 20 cm (incl. slab); depth of canopy, approx. 15 cm including slab. Major features: Tapered wide slab with an effigy under a cinquefoiled canopy. Like Cat. 48, this slab is made of local Alwalton Lynch stone, and survives in excellent condition. The slab is unusually wide at both top and bottom. The canopy spreads broadly above the effigy, around which there is quite a bit of blank ground. The central lobe of the cinquefoiled arch is slightly pointed. The arch rests on two faceted colonnettes topped by simple foliate capitals and ending in octagonal bases. Above the cinquefoiled arch is a series of architectural features. A roof with an incised lozenge pattern indicating roof tiles extends across the entire top of the slab. The wall below this miniature roof has a series of triple lancet windows in low relief. Six mini-towers are ranged across the front of this structure, each with single incised arched window, and a hipped roof with a rounded finial. The canopy as a whole is oddly off-centered, with the towers not quite evenly spaced, and the drapery treatment,” but with a “carefully and completely modeled” head. A Gardner, 156, however, dated it to c.1210, and suggested that Cat. 50 was an earlier work, with a date of c.1200. Neither Blair nor Drury dealt with Peterborough as the effigies are not Purbeck.

612 lobes of the main opening not quite even. Like the canopy, the figure of the abbot is also slightly off-center, perhaps because extra space was allowed on the figure's right side to accommodate his crosier, which he holds out to the right side of his body. The figure does not stand much proud of the canopy; in fact, the part of the slab in highest relief is the animal at the effigy's feet. The figure is tonsured and wears a full, curly beard. The head is of a different style than Cat. 48, with a wide face and prominent ears. His right arm is held up and slightly away from the body, unlike the constricted and symmetrical stance of Cat. 48. The head of the crosier lies on the slab next to the abbot's head, and the crook curls inwards towards his head. He holds a book in his left hand. The folds of the drapery are in relief rather than indicated by incised lines. The amice rises in bold relief. The chasuble has folds coming down over his shoulder and onto the chest, and gathers in bunches at the elbows. Where the cloth falls down the front of the figure, it is arranged in a multitude of closely spaced v-folds, which resolve into small hairpin loops along the central axis. The folds are very crisp and pointed in profile. Where the right hand is held away from the body, the sculptor has shown the cloth of the chasuble pulled slightly to the right. At the sides of the chasuble, the cloth falls in a heavy straight line rather than hanging loosely and folding back on itself. Unlike Cat. 48, this abbot does not wear an ophrey. The chasuble is extremely long, but below it is visible in high relief the apparel of the alb, decorated with two large flowers. In character this is very like the rich decorative detail on the effigy in Cat. 8. The abbot's right foot rests on the back of a winged beast with clawed feet and a

613 serpent-like tail. The tail loops around the abbot's left foot. The creature bites the bottom of the crosier to the abbot's right. History, identification and scholarship: A modern plaque says that this effigy was found in the ruins of the former Chapter House and represents an unidentified thirteenth-century abbot. As with Cat. 48, early drawings were taken by or for Dugdale, Carter, Kerrich and Blore.41 The cinquefoiled canopy makes this effigy quite easy to distinguish from the others among these early sketches. Dugdale and Carter both recorded only one effigy with a cinquefoiled canopy. When Dugdale saw it, he noted that it was “in domo capitulari,” but in pencil the note is amended to read “iam in australi parte post Chori.” It may have been then in roughly the same place as it is now. A 1929 book on the cathedral, however, records that in 1929 it was in the north choir aisle. Carter and Kerrich both recited the same lore about the effigy originally having been in the chapter house. In a note at the top of the drawing, Carter more specifically noted that the effigy was found 38 years before his visit in 1780, but this cannot be right, as Dugdale saw it in the church in or shortly after 1641, and Gunton had made a note of the move from the chapter house by 1686 (it is possible that Carter meant to write 138 years). Kerrich admitted that we know nothing more of these effigies that were moved: “The 3 Effigies of Old Abbots were, as it is said, found in the Ruins of the Chapterhouse; 41

For Dugdale, BL Add Ms 71474, fol. 126v, at the bottom of the page. The crosier, however, is incorrectly shown crossing the abbot's body. For Carter, BL Add Ms 29925, fol. 84, dated 1780 and engraved for Gough. Kerrich, BL Add Ms 6753, fol. 32, is a partial sketch of the face and architecture above the canopy arch. His notes read, “Will de Woodford? Ob 1296. He has no Pillow. Short curled beard. His right hand which holds the Crosier, is up as high as his head. Very flat sculpture—something between relievo and statue.” In different ink is written “Carter's print of this Pla 39 is very inaccurate.” For Blore, see BL Add Ms 42012, fol. 2; he did not identify the effigy.

614 but however that be, and wherever they were found, they appear to be quite unknown.” As to their new placement in the church, he says “it seems they laid the 2 flatter upon the floor because they would be least in the way, and put the other into the arch of Abbot John's tomb where it could not at all incommode any body.” Because he notes that two of them were quite flat, his description suggests that Cats. 48, 49 and 50 were the three moved in from the chapter house. Cat. 48, however, according to Dugdale and Gunton, was not one of these three. Pevsner says this and three other Peterborough abbots date between c.1195c.1225: for this one, “the curly hair and beard are a sign of an early date.”42 Stone dates this effigy to c.1200, a little later than Cat. 48, noting that it “has incorporated a new handling of drapery by gouging the folds deep into the body.”43 He thinks they must be about twenty years later than the examples at Salisbury and Exeter, which he dates to c.1170. A Gardner also suggested c.1200, but believed this effigy to be the earliest in the church. Gardner noted that “there is some advance in the attempt to render the folds more naturally, the heads… are bluffly and fully modeled, the architectural canopies boldly carved, and the whole has something almost Egyptian in the strength and assurance of its conventions.”44 While the architecture and the overall layout of this effigy are the same in concept as Cat. 48, the difference between the incised detail of Cat. 48 and the detail in relief on this effigy, particularly in the drapery, indicates that, contrary to what Gardner stated, this is a slightly later creation. Carter suggested the effigy represented Abbot John de Caleto (d.1262). Kerrich 42 43 44

Pevsner, BE, Bedfordshire, Huntingdonshire and Peterborough, 319. Stone, 104. See also Kemp, 19. A Gardner,154.

615 suggested William de Woodford (d.1296), but both of these are much too late. Benedict (d.1193) or Andrew (d.1201) are the best candidates.

Cat. 50 Current location: in niche on south side of choir aisle, adjoining the northernmost chapel in the south transept Identification: unidentified abbot Measurements: Width at head, approx. 60 cm; width at foot, approx. 45 cm. Length of whole: 185cm; length of figure, 162 cm. Depth of slab, 6 cm. Depth of whole at highest point (head and book), approx. 30 cm, but the head was once approx. 2 cm higher in relief. Major Features: Purbeck effigy of an abbot on a tapering slab. The abbot is not under an architectural canopy, but stiff-leaf foliage forms a curving mass above his head. An angel, now damaged, sits at each side of his head. The angels face towards him, and each held in one hand a now-damaged censer and the other hand rests on the abbot's amice, in a gesture almost of tenderness. The angels' drapery is folded in thick, broad pleats, and their wings are delicately feathered. Each sits up with one foot forward. Under the abbot's feet is a serpent-like creature with wings, much like on Cat. 5 at Ely. The creature's neck twists low and then comes up and around to the abbot's right to bite the bottom of the crosier. Its tail sweeps and coils around the abbot's left foot and ends on the left side of the slab. There is some damaged foliage at the bottom corners of the slab.

616 The figure of the abbot is very compact, with an overall low rectangular massing and a flat, broad torso that extends to the edges of the slab. The head is tonsured and he is not bearded. The face has sustained some damage. His left arm holds a book, a solid block of Purbeck with a carved clasp. The book and his hand still survive well. The crosier is held in his right hand, and extends straight along the right side of his body to stab the beast down below. The right hand and crosier head are now gone. The abbot is dressed in vestments that are quite delicately patterned in relief. The amice is raised in high relief. Across the upper chest the chasuble is carved with a lowrelief, almost incised, foliate pattern representing an apparel. The orphrey, visible at the front of the chasuble, has incised borders. The chasuble lies quite flat on the figure, with only a few widely spaced low-relief ridges towards the bottom, and a defining rollmolding around the edges. The folds hang in the shape of a V, are slightly asymmetrical, and resolve into hairpin loops where they meet in the center. Where the cloth is gathered over the folded arm, it forms thick ridges of cloth. The cloth at the sides of the chasuble hangs straight rather than loosely falling into overlapping folds. The dalmatic ends in an incised border, and below it can be seen in very low relief an apparel of foliate design. The material of these lower garments falls in straight vertical folds, almost tubular, over the legs, and ends in a straight hem at the feet. The effigy slab is placed on a plinth in the wall, under a mural niche with a rounded arch of multiple orders, the outer of which has billet molding. At each side of the arch are two engaged columns with simple semi-circle incised shapes on the impost block, and basket capitals with an incised design. The columns closest to the wall have

617 scalloped capitals and an impost block with an incised pattern of lozenges. On the back wall of the mural niche are some painted gray lines to suggest masonry joins, and fragments of an older inscription alongside a newer one. Towards the top, incised into one of the blocks, are some letters spelling the name John. A newer plaque says “Hos tres abates, quibus, est prior abba Johannes, alter Martinus, Andreas utimus, unus. Hic claudit tumulus; pro clausis ergo rogemus.” At the back, some stone is missing and one can see through to the staircase of the ?watching chamber above the transept chapel. This mural niche must have been in place before the watching chamber, because the watching chamber or loft appears to be added over the top of the niche. The entire tomb was hidden behind a display at the time of my visit, and it was too dark and dirty to make out any surviving paint. There is much damage to the head and the area around it, although the body and lower part of the slab survive very well. History, identification and scholarship: The earliest view of this tomb, as for all these tombs, was that taken for William Dugdale. Of the six tombs drawn by Sedgwick for Dugdale, this is the only one in a low niche with a segmental arch resting on round columns of white limestone. The effigy is shown as black marble in the sketch. The note on the sketch gives the “hos tres abbates” inscription, and notes that it is in the 'australi parte ecclie.' The drawing is accurate in its larger details.45 This abbot is the first in the series of effigies that Carter drew in 1780, and is 45

BL Add Ms 71474, fol. 125, at the bottom of the page. The beast on the effigy is much larger than it really is, he also shows a plain staff rather than a curled crosier. The top of the real crosier is completely gone, so his detail of the straight staff may actually be right, or it may indicate that the staff was broken even then. The chasuble shape is all wrong. In the large motifs, he is accurate, but not in the way in which they are depicted.

618 among those effigies brought in from the cloisters, according to Carter's note, although it was not so noted by Dugdale.46 Carter has written “name unknown” at top of the sketch of the effigy, but he reproduced the text from the tablet and noted that it was placed under the arch with the figure. His drawing is relatively accurate. Carter included the foliate detail on the chest and on the alb, neither of which was noted by Sedgwick. Carter did not draw the mural arch, although his annotation makes it clear that this is where the effigy was placed. Kerrich sketched the niche-effigy ensemble in 1820, although he was more interested in the architecture of the niche than the effigy sculpture. 47 Kerrich suggested that the niche itself was the monument of Abbot Andrew (d.1199), but that the figure on the slab probably belonged to Abbot John de Sais, as he was the founder of the church (d. 1125).48 In this he seems to have been following the sign in the niche that gives the names of John and Andrew. Kerrich did not say whether he thought this a retrospective effigy for John or if he thought it had been made early in the twelfth century. He thought 46

47

48

BL Add Ms 29925, fol. 82, annotated with, “placed under an arch on the pavement in the south aile of the choir, taken 1780 and engraved for RG.” Details are scattered over several pages. BL Add Ms 6753, fol. 19, has a pencil sketch of the arched niche with the effigy only roughly drawn in it. Fols. 20 to 26 include elevations, plans and section views of some of the niche's architectural details. Ibid., fol. 19, on which Kerrich noted, “It is a Plain Recess. Fig of black marble, without any beard. Mon of Abbot Andrew, ob 1199 in the S Ayle, or rather of Abbot John ob 1125. The arch probably may be the monument of this Abbot Andrew, as tradition informs us that it is. But there is no reason whatever to conclude that the figure is of him. [added in different ink:] It is more probably the Mon of the Founder of the Church, John de Sais ob 1128 TK 1820” He reiterated this distinction between the burials on fol. 20: “According to Willis, all the 3 Abbats, John de Sais, ob 1125, Martin de Bec ob 1154, and Andrew ob 1199 appear to have been all buried in this Tomb vol. 1 p. 146. [in different ink:] I should make no doubt it is the tomb of Abbot John de Sais, who began to rebuild the Church in 1117, died 1125.” His note on the sketch of Cat. 49, fol. 32, reads “it seems they laid the 2 flatter upon the floor because they would be least in the way, and put the other into the arch of Abbot John's tomb where it could not at all incommode any body. John himself presumably (1199) had only a simple cross stone in his Mont.” (This contradicts his earlier statement that the effigy was for John but the arch for Andrew.) But in pencil on the facing page he wrote: “NB The Inscription Hoc tres abbates has nothing at all to do with these three figures [i.e. the effigies].”

619 it “superior in style” to the other abbots in this aisle and that in the south transept (Cat. 48).49 Blore drew the tomb in the early nineteenth century; it looks much the same in his drawing as it does today.50 Its decorative features and overall style place it with others from the first half of the thirteenth century. The raised relief of the orphrey and other decorative features on the vestments are similar to those on the effigies at Exeter (Cats. 7, 8) and Cat. 49 at Peterborough. The beast at the feet is similar to that at the feet of Bishop Bingham at Salisbury (Cat. 19). The distinctive ridge around the edge of the chasuble which defines the shape of it is like the treatment on Cat. 8, and the simplicity of the folds of the chasuble argue for a date before 1240. Arguing for a date closer to mid-century, however are the seated angels in high relief, and the broad folds of their garments. There were several early thirteenth-century abbots. Three that might coincide with the date of this effigy are Martin of Ramsey (d.1233), Walter of St Edmunds (d.1245), and William de Hotot, resigned in 1249, but buried there soon after. It is certainly not that for Alexander of Holderness (d.1226), whose effigy seems to have disappeared (see below, Cat. 51).

Cat. 51 Current location: in fourth bay east of the crossing (i.e. the last Norman straight bay), against the south wall of the south choir aisle Identification: Base for Abbot Alexander of Holderness (d.1226); effigy for unidentified abbot. The modern sign says Abbot Alexander of Holderness, 1222-26. 49

50

Ibid., fol. 20, on which he also provided basic descriptive notes on the effigy: “It is not so flat, and is superior in style to the other 2, and to that in the S transept.” BL Add Ms 42012, fol. 4.

620 Measurements: Width at top, 32 cm; width at widest part, 80 cm; width at feet, 55 cm (these measurements are approximate due to missing pieces). Length of side, 207 cm; length of trapezoidal section tapering at the head, 32 cm. Length of the figure, approx. 186 cm (incl. estimate for feet). Depth of relief, approx. 30 cm. The base: width of quatrefoil panels, 48 cm each; height of panels, 38 cm. Major features: Dark marble-like effigy displayed on a tomb chest that has been cobbled together for the purpose. The tomb chest and effigy do not fit together in their current arrangement, and the documentary evidence suggests they were not originally placed together. The feet of the effigy are missing, as is most of the canopy and the colonnette along the south side of the figure. The western end of the slab may have come originally to a point, but damage in that area makes this difficult to ascertain. The base consists of a series of panels, each with a heavily molded circle around a quatrefoil motif. Columns, almost free-standing, flank the sides of each panel. In their current arrangement, they are upside-down, with rounded bases at the top and rudimentary foliate capitals at the bottom. The capitals on the base are much simpler than the foliage on the effigy slab, although both base and effigy are of marble-like stone of a similar hue. The base seems originally to have been in a similar trapezoidal shape as it is now, although several panels have been cut down. A shorter panel at the west end of the base has an oval rather than a circle, with a multi-lobed elliptical molding inside. The base, as is, is not long or wide enough for the effigy currently on it, and that effigy is not complete.

621 The effigy lies under a canopy that projects from the slab in very high relief. The arch is a trefoil with a slight point at the tip, and it rests on engaged colonnettes with a simple foliate capital (that on the south side is now missing). Much of surface of the canopy is destroyed, but it was once heavily foliated all across its surface, with thick, juicy, curling trefoiled leaves, each with a deep central groove. There are no moldings on the canopy, just foliage. The leaves curve up from the sides, near the capital, then grow up the sides of the canopy. At the top of the foliate canopy is a mystery: two arms, with open palms facing towards the west, on either side of the central point of the slab. Anatomically, this makes no sense, as they bend at the elbow and face open to the east. Was their owner at the east end of the tomb facing west? There are otherwise no hints of figure sculpture on the canopy, although Carter drew head-stops on his sketch. In its current state, the canopy overhangs the base by a great amount, but it is unclear if this is because much of the base of the slab is missing. The edges of the base are heavily damaged, but in places the original chamfer is visible. The effigy: the abbot's head, like the canopy, is in high relief. He is bearded, and his head placed on a rectangular pillow. He holds a thick book in his left hand; hand and book are damaged. In the right hand was a crosier; the hand is still there but the crosier is gone, although it once crossed his body down to his left foot. There are large vine leaves growing upwards along the staff, a bit like those on the staff of the Bronescombe effigy (Cat. 9). The chasuble undulates in gentle ridges of cloth, organized in nested Vs, with a hint of hairpin loops where they meet at the center. The chasuble sits as a very high slab

622 on the dalmatic underneath it. The stole is also in relief. Where the arms are bent, the cloth has rucked up in thick, rounded gathers. There is no attempt at fussy hemlines. The feet and lower part of the slab are missing, but the folds of the alb down to the feet are relatively flat, as if spread gently out over the legs rather than falling in stiff tubular formations or in multiple folds. This treatment gives the impression of extremely thick cloth, giving way only slightly to gravity between the legs. The canopy with its foliage is exuberant, and the figure is broad. Although the arms are both held over the chest rather than being outside the line of the torso, the effigy does not seem quite so tightly self-contained as other effigies. This may be because the arms, compared to others in this church, have real depth that separates them from the main block of the body. The cloth that falls over the arms also occupies its own space. This effigy possesses more of this vibrant quality than any of the others in the Peterborough series. There is some red paint under the folds where his right arm is raised, and just below his right wrist on the chasuble. History, identification, and scholarship: Dugdale's draughtsman drew this effigy and base, but not together.51 The base with its quatrefoil panels was roughly the same shape in 1641 as it is now, but it was then on the north side of the choir. The effigy that sits on it in the sketch is also of dark marble. The figure rests under a trefoil arch, but this is topped by a series of what look to be smaller, pointed arches. This arrangement does not match any of the effigy slabs

51

The base, with another effigy, is on BL Add Ms 71474, fol. 125, labeled “in boreali parte chori.” This effigy seems to be that depicted on fol. 126v, at the top of the page.

623 surviving today, and it appears this effigy is now missing.52 A pencil note on this drawing says “tumulus Kynsu Arch Eborac.” Gunton in the mid-seventeenth century also noted that his father thought the marble effigy then on the north side (i.e. the one drawn for Dugdale) was for Kynsius: “for Kynsius, I have heard my father who was well read in the Antiquities of this Church, say, that the Marble Monument now lying on the Northside of the Quire, was his. It bears the portraiture of a shaven monk lying on the top.”53 That the effigy drawn in the sketch is a different effigy than is currently married to the base is clear, since the one now on the base is bearded. Neither Carter nor Kerrich drew this now-missing effigy or its base. This makes sense, as the monument apparently had been covered up, perhaps in the renovations that took place after the Civil Wars.54 According to the Bell's Cathedral guide of 1929, it was “found under the woodwork of the old choir which was removed in 1830, beneath the second arch, on the north of the choir. The coffin contained the body, in a large coarse garment, with boots on, and a crosier in the left hand.... The head was gone. A piece of lead was found inscribed "Abbas: Alexandr:" The remains were gathered together and reinterred beneath the present position of the coffin.”55 The author does not note, however, that the effigy on the tomb chest today may not have been its original one. What happened to the effigy once it was uncovered is not known. A different effigy drawn for Dugdale seems to be a better match for the effigy 52

53 54

55

P Lankester, “Alwalton Marble Effigies,” Church Monuments Society Newsletter 12:2 (winter 1996/7), 38-40, noted that there was possibly an additional effigy at the time of Dugdale's visit, and suggested the missing effigy might be on fol. 125 or 126v. Gunton, 98. Gunton, 333-7, includes a description dated 1643 of the damage done to the cathedral, including to several monuments. Sweeting, 91-98.

624 under consideration here.56 This more accurately shows a trefoiled canopy with foliage extending from the colonnette capitals towards the center of the canopy. The western corners of the slab have been clipped slightly. Dugdale noted that the effigy had been brought out of the chapter house, but was now in the south choir aisle. Carter drew this effigy in 1780, and confirmed its location in the south aisle of the choir.57 His sketch also shows its unusual shape and its abundant floral motif. Both Sedgwick and Carter show the effigy complete with its feet, and below them two beasts, with the heads eating the bases of the colonnettes. They also show the remnants of the crosier head, which matches where the crosier head on the existing effigy would have been, although now it is completely gone. Both also indicate that the effigy is bearded. Blore must have been there after 1830, as he drew the base and the effigy together as we see them today.58 Blore's drawing indicates that the monument was then freestanding, and near a south wall. His drawing shows foliage over the figure's lower legs, but the drawing is not clear enough to tell whether the feet were missing when he saw it. I suspect the damage occurred when the two objects were married together. If the scenario I have developed above is right, then the tomb chest and burial are for Abbot Alexander (d.1226), proven by the lead tablet found in the grave, but Alexander's effigy is now missing. The current effigy on the base belonged to someone else, but the style of it indicates a date around the same time.59 There are a few candidates: Robert of Lindsey (d.1222), Martin of Ramsey (d.1233), and Walter of St 56 57 58 59

BL Add Ms 71474, fol. 126v, at the top of the page. BL Add Ms 29925, fol. 83. BL Add Ms 42008, fol. 13, a northwest oblique view of the monument he calls Abbot Alexander. Pevsner, BE, Bedfordshire, Huntingdonshire and Peterborough, 319, believed the effigy belonged to Alexander based on style.

625 Edmunds (d.1245). The next two succeeding abbots were both, according to Gunton, buried in the church.

Cat. 52 (no image) Current location: south choir aisle, near the choir arcade, two bays east of the crossing Identification: unidentified abbot Measurements: Width at foot, 45cm; width at head, 79 cm. Length along side, 196 cm; Length of figure, 168 cm. Depth of fig at highest point, approx. 24 cm at hands, including the slab, but the highest point may once have been a canopy (which is now approx. 19cm incl. slab). Width at shoulders 52 or 53 cm. Major features: A tapered slab of Alwalton Lynch stone, with effigy housed under a dominant canopy. The entire surface of this monument is worn, making it possible only to identify the larger details of the arrangement. It has a large crack across the figure's stomach. The canopy is large with a trefoiled arch. Above the center of the arch is an architectural feature of some kind, a central block with a roof, perhaps. The canopy seems to have once rested on colonnettes, or perhaps ended in a corbel but has a raised edge along the long sides of the slab so that the effigy is framed by this feature. In the upper corners, above each ?colonnette, is a tower or pinnacle. The feet are placed on a plain corbel. There seem to be no foliage or creatures on this slab. The abbot's head rests on a diagonal pillow. He held a crosier in the right hand, out to the right side of his body, and the crook of the crosier, were it still surviving,

626 would have rested on the canopy. His left hand is still faintly visible, and like the other abbots' effigies, he held a book. The drapery, which survives best at the bottom, is quite simplified. The folds are raised considerably higher in relief than other effigies at Peterborough, although the tops of each ridge have been broken off so relative plasticity is hard to determine. The folds are widely spaced and also very regular, falling in nested Vs with deep troughs in between. The cloth at the sides of the chasuble, where it hangs over the left arm, is not straight, as in earlier effigies, but cascades down in waves which then fold back over each other. The chasuble rests on the lower garments in a thick ridge of stone. Below this, the alb falls down in straight, tubular divisions, and ends in a flat hemline. There appears to have been no surface adornment or attempt to show multiple folds and creases. History, identification and scholarship: The best visual evidence for this tomb is in Dugdale's collection of drawings, but as with many of these drawings, the best match is not an exact match.60 The likeliest sketch shows a bold architectural feature of rectangular shape behind the central part of the trefoil canopy. This is topped by four tiny gables with rounded finials, similar in character, although much smaller, than those on Cats. 48 and 49. In the corners of the slab, where pinnacles would make more sense, Sedgwick has drawn tall sprays of foliage. The effigy in the drawing, as on the slab itself, holds the crosier out to the right side. The note on the sketch says that this effigy had once been in the chapter house, but had been brought into the south choir aisle. Dudgale's view does not show any damage, but Carter's drawing from 1780 60

BL Add Ms 71474, fol. 126,

627 recorded a similar level of mutilation as it exhibits today.61 It may have been damaged in the Civil Wars, as described in Gunton's volume. Carter's note shows that it remained in the south choir aisle from Dugdale's time until today. Carter, probably correctly, interpreted the features in the upper corners as pinnacles. Kerrich drew the tomb, noted the damage, added that the abbot is not bearded, and also thought the corner features were pinnacles.62 None of these early visitors hazarded a guess as to identity. Pevsner included it as part of the c.1195-1225 series of abbots at Peterborough. I would argue for a later date, based on the diagonal pillow, which does not generally appear until c.1260, and the size and arrangement of the folds of the chasuble. The simplicity and boldness of the drapery might argue for a 1260s date. However, all the abbots of the latter half of the century, from William de Hotot (d.c.1249) forward, were buried in the church according to records found by Gunton.63 If this effigy truly did come from the chapter house, Walter of St Edmunds (d.1245) is the best candidate. RAMSEY ABBEY, HUNTS Cat. 53 (not seen, no image) Current location: privately owned as of 1917

61 62

63

BL Add Ms 29925, fol 85, dated 1780 and engraved for Gough. BL Add Ms 6753, fol. 31. His view was very sketchy, and is only a partial birds-eye view from the shoulders up. His annotation reads, “No beard. 2 nd Effigies of an Abbot. No [?wivern] at his feet. The right hand which holds the Crosier is up nearly as high as his head. A book in his left hand. An old Abbot. [He added in different ink: Is he not rather a Prior, than an Abbot?] Of very flat sculpture— between a relievo and a statue. It is the 2nd figure in the S Ayle. [In different ink: NB This is not one of those engraved by Carter Plate 39].” For William de Hotot, see Gunton, 33 (buried before the altar of St Benedict in the cathedral); for John de Caleto, ibid., 35 (his body was placed in the south choir aisle); for Sutton, ibid., 36 (his heart burial was placed before the altar of St Oswald); for Richard of London, ibid., 37 (buried in the north part of the church).

628 Identification: unidentified abbot or prior Measurements: 12 inches thick; 26 inches long; just under 30 inches wide as is Major features: Purbeck fragment of an abbot's effigy, surviving only from the knees down. I did not see this fragment, and this discussion relies on the comments of Philip Nelson, who found the fragment in 1914 and published it in 1917.64 The abbot's feet rest (rather unusually) on two couchant rams. On either side of the lower legs is a seated figure, which faces towards the head of the main effigy. Nelson identified these as ecclesiastics wearing a dalmatic and tunicle (possibly a deacon and sub-deacon). Each holds a book open in his hands and rests the weight of it on his knees. At their backs are the rounded bases of shafts which traveled along the edges of the slab. The abbot wears an alb and chasuble. There is no sign of a crosier, so Nelson suggests he probably held a book. History, identification, and scholarship: The piece was obtained in 1914 by Philip Nelson. It had been discovered under part of a mill in Little Stukeley in 1870, probably reused for building material after the abbey's dissolution in 1539. Nelson believed it probably came from Ramsey Abbey, Hunts, which was only 8 miles away from where the fragment was found. The two rams at the feet Nelson interpreted as the rebus of Ramsey abbey, a mitred abbey. Based on a comparison to the drapery of the effigy of King John at Worcester, Nelson stated it was a mid-thirteenth century effigy. He estimated that it may have been about 7.5 ft in length when whole, tapered, with the figure under an elaborate canopy.

64

Nelson, “A Purbeck Marble Effigy of an Abbot of Ramsey of the Thirteenth Century,” Archaeological Journal, 74 (1917), 132-35, with images.

629 Nelson makes a stylistic comparison only with the effigy of King John, to which he believed this bore resemblance. As he thought John's effigy to date to c.1240, he placed this around the middle of the century, and suggested that it was made for Abbot Ralph (d.1253). Although the author provides much information about Abbot Ralph, including making a comparison to his seal, there is nothing in his argument that proves the identity of this effigy as Abbot Ralph. A more thorough stylistic analysis needs to be done. The folds of the drapery on the attendant figures and the main figure's vestments are of the silky, thin material often found on other effigies from the 1230s or 1240s, but the presence of two figures, seated upright, at the feet, confuses matters a little. Upright or perpendicular angels appear c.1240 or 1250, but figures at the feet are extremely rare in the thirteenth century, and the only others are found on effigies of a late thirteenthcentury date (Cat. 43 and possibly Cat. 35). I question, too, the attribution to an abbot. It would have been highly unusual for an abbot to be shown without a crosier. A prior might be a better identification, and a date in 1240s is here tentatively suggested.

SHAFTESBURY, DORSET Cat. 54 (not seen, no image) Current location: southwest porch of Holy Trinity Church Identification: unidentified priest Measurements: Length as is, 4 feet 5 inches Major features: Purbeck effigy of a priest. The slab is broken below the knees, cut down around

630 the head, and the face is heavily damaged. The figure rests on a pillow, and his hands are folded together across his chest in prayer. He is dressed in mass vestments but holds no other attributes. The drapery across the front of his chasuble is in gentle, low relief ushaped folds. The head is in high relief, the pillow high, the amice very tall, and the ears large. History, identification, and scholarship: The effigy seems to be mentioned only by Drury, who included a line drawing of the effigy showing hairpin loops across the front of the chasuble. He noted that when he saw it, if any of the slab remained it was covered by the cement in which it had been set. At the time a modern inscription noted that the effigy was brought to the southwest porch of Holy Trinity Church in 1817, although it did not state from where it was removed.65 Drury recognized stylistic similarity to the Cerne effigy (Cat. 39), although believed this effigy “certainly not as good as, that of the Cerne effigy.” He gave the effigy a mid-thirteenth century date based on the type of amice (upright) and length of maniple, and the pinched corners of the pillows which he thought similar to that on a military effigy dated c.1249. In the figure's pose, the delicacy of spacing and low relief of the folds, the large amice, pillow, and large ears, this priest is very like an abbot's effigy at Sherborne (Cat. 56) as well as the fragment from Cerne. The folds below the arms, however, are more sophisticated on the Sherborne abbot than on this priest. Without the canopy and feet, however, further comparisons are impossible. Comparisons might also be drawn between the pose and character of an abbot's effigy at Glastonbury (Cat. 42), although the drapery 65

Drury, “Early Ecclesiastical Effigies,” 259-60 and pl. 7.

631 is rendered much more simply on the priest. A mid-century date is likely.

SHERBORNE ABBEY Cat. 55 Current location: north choir aisle Identification: Abbot Clement (d. c.1163?) Measurements: Width at top of slab, 70 cm. Depth of slab, approx. 10 cm; depth of canopy, another 10 cm. The head rises approximately 6 cm from the slab. Major features: Fragment comprising the head and canopy only, in Purbeck marble, on a modern tomb chest. There is a crack through what survives, at the eyes. The slab itself is thick in profile and was once tapered in shape. Its edges were not treated with rounded or chamfered molding. The canopy consists of a rounded arch in deep relief with a gabled pinnacle on either side of the central opening. The pinnacles and the arch both have rounded finials on top. The pinnacles have squared corbels at the base, smoothly finished on the underside, suggesting that there were no pilasters or colonnettes extending down the sides of the slab. On the upper surface of the arch and pinnacles is an incised fragmentary inscription that includes his name. The letters are legible from the west end of the tomb rather than the east. The head rises approximately 6 centimeters from the slab, and is elongated and rather triangular in shape. He is tonsured and bearded, the hair and beard in low relief and

632 divided into individual curly locks. He either has a mustache or extremely strong nasallabial lines. His eyes are open. The crook of the abbot's crosier, located close to the abbot's head on his right, curls inwards. History, identification and scholarship: This is a rare instance of a surviving inscription that clearly identifies whom the effigy represents. Not much is known about Clement, however; even his date of death is not certain.66 The date of the effigy thus also differs according to different authors, with Drury suggesting c.1163, the Church Monuments Society website and Newman and Pevsner saying c.1150, and Kemp, Badham and Saul dating it to c.1180.67 Drury printed the inscription, “Clemens Clementum sibi sentiat omnipotentem quo dum vivebat domus hec dominante vigebat,” with Canon Mayo's translation, “the almighty's clemency may Clement feel under whose sway this house advanced in weal” [wealth]. Drury wrote that the effigy was excavated from the debris in the churchyard to the west of the abbey. To my knowledge no one has suggested an original location of burial, but he may have been buried in the chapter house as was common practice in a Benedictine monastery. Brian Kemp suggested a common workshop with Salisbury, given the close geographical and political connections between the two places.68 Drury noted a similarity to the two early effigies at Salisbury and that at Exeter (Cats. 17, 18, 6)

66

67

68

VCH, History of the County of Dorset, vol. 2 (1908), 62-70, says documentary evidence shows him as abbot in 1160, and the next abbot was in place by 1165. Drury, “Early Ecclesiastical Effigies,” thus gave date of death as c.1163; but see Kemp, 16, who said he died between 1175 and 1189, although he did not provide evidence. Church Monuments Society, www.churchmonumentssociety.org/Dorset.html; Newman and Pevsner, BE, Dorset, 375, c.1150, “i.e. the earliest of the whole South West English series”; Badham, “Our Earliest English Effigies”; Drury, “Early Ecclesiastical Effigies”; Kemp, 16-19; Saul, English Church Monuments, 29-30, dates it to 1180-90. Kemp, 19.

633 in the simple volute form the head of the crosier, but the style of the abbot's head and the architectural decoration on the slab is very different from other known early effigial slabs and an easy comparison is not possible. It is generally considered to be one of the earliest surviving English effigies. Cat. 56 Current location: the south choir aisle Identification: unidentified abbot Measurements: Width of slab at feet, 42 cm; width at head, 72 cm. Length of slab, 207 cm. Length of figure, approximately 182 cm. Depth of relief of head (as is), 20 cm from the slab; depth of canopy (as is), approximately 20 cm. Thickness of slab, approximately 8 cm. Major features: Nicely preserved abbot's effigy in Purbeck marble, on a modern base. The tapered slab has a chamfer and raised roll molding along the four edges. The canopy over the abbot's head terminates in corbel heads rather being supported by colonnettes or pilasters down the sides of the slab. The canopy is a nodding trefoil with roll molding and a short gabled hood. Behind the gable, on a plane close to the slab, is a mini-transept and crossing, complete with carved roof tiles. The corbel heads are different on each side; that on his left side is a man facing eastwards, and that on his right twists to face south. This southern corbel head also serves as the support for the crosier head, and so the stiff-leaf foliage from the crook spreads across the top of his head. The abbot holds the crosier in the crook of his right arm as he folds his hands in prayer. The staff stabs the beast at his

634 feet, a winged lion, facing south. The abbot's head rests on a pillow. He is tonsured, bearded and mustached, the hair wavy and carved with deep grooves in a manner very similar to the beard on Walter de Gray at York (Cat. 36, cf. the more stylized curls of Kilkenny at Ely (Cat. 4) or Bingham at Salisbury(Cat. 19)). The figure is very simple and the effigy characterized by expanses of smooth surface. The body is not in particularly strong relief, though the head projects robustly from the slab. The effigy is rectangular in massing, in profile flat across the upper surface rather than swelling at the abdomen or chest. The abbot is dressed in mass vestments, with drapery folds widely spaced and in very low relief, forming delicate nested curves across the front of the chasuble. Below the raised arms, the chasuble falls in multiple folds. Condition: the face and amice are damaged, as is the upper surface of the canopy, and there is a crack across the middle of the effigy. Otherwise it is in good repair. History, identification and scholarship: John Carter made a sketch of the monument c.1792, at which time the monument was against a south wall in the south chapel, resting on a plinth between columns rather than on a table tomb against the wall as it is today.69 Drury stated that the effigy was formerly in St Katherine's chapel where it was partly built into the wall, but that its original position was unknown.70 Drury attributed the effigy to Abbot Laurence de Bradford, d. 1261, and I find no reason to doubt this identification.

69 70

BL Add Ms 29931, fol. 24. The sketches in this volume mostly date to 1792. Drury, “Early Ecclesiastical Effigies,” 260-1.

635 Gardner gave this effigy a date of c.1270.71 I would rather say c.1260. The sculptor of this work was extremely accomplished, and it is a beautiful, clear and elegant example of effigy carving. The use of the nodding arch is relatively advanced, seen on, though more pronounced, the c.1270 effigy of Wyle at Salisbury (Cat. 21) and the c.1270-90 pair of bishops at Rochester (Cats. 15, 16). A much closer stylistic match is the effigy of a lady at Romsey, not far from Sherborne, and it was quite possibly carved in the same workshop, c. 1260-70 (Fig. 21). The use of stiff-leaf foliage on the crosier head suggests pre-c.1280, and overall, the relief is not as robust as the figures of the last three decades of the century. The delicate, regularly spaced nested folds indicate a date c.1250-60. There are no hairpin loops where the folds meet, as there are for Bingham at Salisbury (Cat. 19) or on an abbot's effigy at Glastonbury (Cat. 42). A very good comparison can be found in a Purbeck effigy of a priest at Shaftesbury, Dorset, in Holy Trinity church (Cat. 54), especially regarding the pose, the delicacy of spacing and low relief of the folds, the pillow, the large amice, and large ears. This priest unfortunately does not have a canopy to compare to the abbot, and his feet are truncated, damaged. The overlapping folds of cloth hanging below the arms are, however, more sophisticated on the abbot than on the Shaftesbury priest, and are similar in style to the cloth under the arms of the effigy of Archbishop Walter de Gray (Cat. 36; c.1255). The similarities between de Gray's effigy and the Sherborne effigy in the smaller details of drapery and hair make a date c.1260 likely, and may even suggest a sculptor in common.

71

A Gardner, 156, fig. 295.

636 Cat. 57 Current location: the north choir aisle Identification: unidentified ?prior Measurements: Width of slab near the top, approximately 72 cm; width at feet, 58 cm. Length of slab, 227 cm. Depth of relief of head, approximately 18 cm. Major features: Heavily damaged tapered Purbeck effigy of an ecclesiastic on a modern tomb chest. The figure—which is tonsured but does not hold a crosier or any other marker of status—stands in a niche with a beast at his feet. The canopy of the niche is formed of a nodding trefoiled arch, with multiple complicated moldings. The upper stratum of the canopy is missing, as are the corners of the slab, though it appears that some sort of carved feature did once grace each corner, likely either an angel on each side or an architectural pinnacle. Large foliate capitals and a tall impost block sit on top of engaged colonnettes on either side of the figure. The slab itself is treated at the edges with a large roll molding which echoes the engaged colonnettes. The beast at the feet is badly damaged, but seems to have been in the same plane as the bishop, so that when viewed from above, it appears to be on its side. The figure's hands are placed together in prayer. His head is on a pillow, which is turned on a diagonal. He has big ears and a tonsure. Some repairs have been made to the top of his head, but the hair comes down over the forehead and ears in straight lines. The chasuble falls in loopy, large, varied and asymmetrical folds across the front. These are now broken, but would have been quite broad in profile below the hands, while

637 those on the chest are very shallow. Where the folds meet at the central axis of the chasuble, smooth hairpin loops are still clearly visible. Condition: there are several complete breaks, one at the top of the shoulders, another halfway down the effigy and the other at the feet. The portion below the feet is in two fragments. Most of the surfaces are damaged to some degree, especially the beast, the lower legs, most of the canopy, and the figure's face. Parts of the slab itself have been broken off around the edges. History, Identification, and Scholarship: Drury reproduced a line drawing and discussed the effigy.72 He explained that the four fragments that make up the slab were found buried in the churchyard west of the abbey. He suggested that it might represent a prior, and be dated in the late thirteenth century, c.1280. As Drury noted, the figure is in higher relief than the effigy in the south aisle (Cat. 56), and the folds are “deeply and, in comparison, rather clumsily cut.” The nodding canopy places the effigy in the later three or four decades of the thirteenth century. Several features, e.g. the moldings on the canopy, the capitals, and the diagonally placed pillow, are similar to the bishop's effigy on the north of the chancel at Rochester Cathedral (Cat. 15; c.1270s). However, the Sherborne abbot lacks the deep undercutting and elaborate surface carving of the Rochester bishop's canopy, and even when allowance is made for the missing upper surface, the canopy would not have overshadowed the head quite like the Rochester canopy does. The folds in the drapery are also more subtle and delicate than those on the Rochester effigy. Its architectural detailing and larger, more active folds indicate a later date than Cat. 56 at Sherborne, so a 72

Drury, “Early Ecclesiastical Effigies,” 261 and pl. 8.

638 1270s date is here given to this effigy. The lozenge pillow also helps to date it c.1260 or later.

TOLPUDDLE, DORSET Cat. 58 (not seen) Current location: north transept of St John the Evangelist church Identification: Philip the Priest Measurements: 6 ft 4 inches long; 30 inches wide at head; 21 inches wide at foot; slab is over 8 inches thick Major features: A tapered Purbeck slab with a low-relief effigy of Philip the Priest. The effigy was not seen by me, but a line drawing was published by Drury, from whose work most of this information comes.73 The slab has a wide hollow chamfer bordering its four edges, on which the inscription, which includes his name and profession, has been incised. The effigy is in very low relief, and above the head, raised in relief from the slab, is a curved feature which, although heavily damaged, gives the impression of a canopy. The surface of this is completely gone. Drury seemed to think that it was not a canopy, but rather a receptacle for the head, as if “the priest is represented as though lying in his stone coffin.” This however, would be unusual for an English effigy; a simple arch, perhaps like that of Clement at Sherborne (Cat. 55), is much more likely. The lines indicating folds of drapery are formed of wide incisions. The chasuble is pointed, and the folds of cloth of the chasuble descend over the shoulders and down the 73

Ibid., 252-55 and pl. 1.

639 front of the figure in wide, symmetrical curving v-shapes. The maniple and stole are clearly visible, although Drury pointed out that it hung from the right wrist, which is unusual. There is nothing below the effigy's feet. His hands were probably once arranged in prayer in front of his chest. History, identification, and scholarship: Drury noted that the slab was broken into two pieces and found in separate places, one in the turf south of the chancel and the other partly rebuilt into the northeast quoin of the chancel. The pieces were recovered in 1911. Drury wrote in the early 1930s, and he noted that in recent years the pieces had been cemented together and displayed in the church. Drury recorded that the surface of the upper half of the figure, including the hands and face, was badly flaked. Although sculpted using a different technique (incised lines vs. low relief), the priest, and especially the design of his drapery, is very much like the early Purbeck bishop's effigy at Exeter (Cat. 6). Drury also made this comparison. He believed that the Exeter effigy dated to c.1100 (this to my mind is too early), and that the priest's effigy must also be from the early years of the twelfth century. I think a date in the 1150s or 1160s for both is more likely.

WINCHESTER CATHEDRAL Cat. 59 Current location: north aisle of the retrochoir, north of Bishop Wainflete’s chantry

640 chapel Identification: unidentified ?prior Measurements: Width of slab at head, approx. 85 cm; width at feet, 59 cm; length of slab, 213 cm; length of figure from mitre to feet, 183 cm; width between foliage spurs, approx. 15 cm; approx. depth from slab of center ridge of chasuble, 17-18 cm; approx. depth of head, 21 cm; current depth of canopy from slab, approx. 10-11 cm; height of canopy from tip to base, 42 cm Major features: Purbeck effigy and slab on a raised stone chest. The chest, which rests on a molded base, features at each corner engaged columns with rounded bases and capitals. Documentary evidence indicates that the base was added in the nineteenth century. Both slab and chest are tapered. The slab on which the effigy rests is thin at the edges with a slight hollow chamfer molding and rises gently towards the center. The figure lies under a damaged trefoiled canopy which once was 'supported' by a pair of colonnettes along either side of the figure. These adjoin the chamfered but otherwise unadorned base at the figure's feet. The colonnettes, now missing, had been raised off of the slab and supported by five foliate spurs. The canopy features side gables with simple blind plate tracery, similar in concept to the pilasters on the bishop's effigy in the Temple Church, London (Cat. 13). The patterns on the Winchester canopy form two lancets and large rose above. The front of the canopy has been sheared off but once was approximately 10 cm higher in relief. The figure lies on a pillow set diagonally. The body is in high relief, particularly

641 the head, but the arms and shoulders are crudely rendered, looking rather thin, tubular and bending awkwardly at the elbows. He holds a book in his left hand, which rests in front of his stomach; his right rests just above it. He wears a mitre, but does not hold a crosier. His amice is rendered without proper understanding of perspective, forming almost a hood around his neck rather than receding backwards into the slab. His eyes are open. He has a short, stylized beard, and hair carved in ropy ridges down the sides of his head and over the ears. The drapery, like the arms and shoulders, suggests an inexperienced carver. The chasuble runs in straight vertical ridges down to his arms. Below his arms, the drapery gathers along a central axis, and on either side of this falls in two side-by-side sets of regular and distinct v-folds, showing none of the natural folds of cloth that should occur given the figure's pose. Over his left arm hangs his maniple, carved with fringed and decorative ends. Where the alb is visible, the sculptor has not indicated the volume of the legs beneath; the cloth is instead rendered in five vertical tubular ridges. Condition: The upper surface of the canopy is sheared off, the foliate spurs are broken off and the colonnettes missing. The ledge beneath the feet is sheared off, as are the figure's toes. Upper surfaces are damaged on the chasuble, amice, forehead, nose, mouth, and fingers on right hand. Repairs seem to have been made on the lower legs and feet. History, identification and scholarship: John Milner, in his 1798 Antiquities of Winchester, wrote that he saw in the north aisle of the nave “lying close to the wall, an ancient mutilated figure of black marble,

642 with a mitre on the head.”74 As the only other mutilated effigy in marble in Winchester is the effigy which has been headless since at least 1784, then Milner must have been referring to the effigy here under consideration. Thus, it was located in the north aisle of the nave, and was already in a bad state of repair in the late eighteenth century. How long it had stood in this position prior to Milner's observations is unknown. Earlier visitors did not mention the effigy.75 By the time that E Blore drew the monument for Britton's 1817 Antiquities of Winchester, the tomb had been moved to the east end, to its current position, a result of the early nineteenth-century renovation campaign.76 One of Britton's plates shows that the effigy had lost his lower left foot and that the bottom left corner of the slab had been broken off.77 The description on the plan explains that the effigy had been “removed from another part of the church and raised on modern masonry.” This suggests the base was made between 1798 and 1817. In 1818, Charles Ball described a mutilated figure of black marble, its head with a small mitre, on a low raised tomb, originally in the north aisle of the church but now in the eastern part of the church.78 Hollis and Hollis's 1840 continuation of Stothard's Monumental Effigies illustrates a

74

75

76

77

78

Milner, Winchester, vol. II, 76. It is no. 73 on the plan, in the eighth bay of the nave. Curiously, he does not mention it in his descriptive 'tour' of the cathedral. For example, Leland, Dingley, Hammond, and Gale. Carter did not draw it with the other tombs he saw at Winchester in 1784. Britton, Winchester, no. 28 on the plan. An article in the Gentleman's Magazine dated 1828 says this work is just ending, having been going on for about 16 years, i.e. begun c.1812. See Philip Barrett, “Georgian and Victorian Restorations and Repairs 1775-1900,” Winchester Cathedral, ed. John Crook, 317 for the restoration campaign more generally. Plate 25. A close look at the monument reveals a seam there, though the corner has been replaced. It looks, however, close enough to the original stone to perhaps be the original stone that was later found and reattached. Britton's plate 8 shows the tomb in context, but is an inaccurate rendering of the figure. Ball, 128. The statement he makes that the tomb was at the west end of Waynflete's chapel must be incorrect, given Britton's evidence from the year before. He seems to have confused it with another tomb made up of parts from the north and south transepts which recently had been placed west of the chantry chapel according to Britton in 1817.

643 birdseye view of the effigy.79 This shows the canopy and feet sliced off as they are today, and also a crack just across the legs below the chasuble, corresponding to the cracks visible today. Because of its pre-1798 location in the north aisle of the nave, this tomb has often been attributed to Bishop Peter des Roches/Rupibus (d.1238). However, the suggestion that it could belong to a prior has also been made. Milner noted that “It is difficult to determine whether this represents a bishop or a cathedral prior; if the former, and if it has always continued in the same place [i.e. the north aisle of the nave], we have no difficulty in pronouncing that it is the monument and covers the ashes of the great and powerful prelate, once the guardian of the king and kingdom, Peter de Rupibus; as it is particularly recorded of him, that in his lifetime, he chose a humble place in his cathedral to be buried in.”80 On his plan, Britton does not commit to a specific attribution, calling it simply “an effigy of a bishop,” but in his text to plate 26 he refers to the tomb as a “mutilated effigy of a bishop, commonly attributed, and with much probability, to Peter de Rupibus.”81 In support of this attribution, he agrees (though without in-depth formal analysis) that “the style of the mitre, drapery, canopy over head, and ornaments down the sides, are all indicative of the age of Rupibus, who died 1238.” Ball expressed doubt over whom it represents, but he repeats the conjecture that it was for Bishop des Roches. Scholars of the early twentieth century held differing viewpoints over attribution. John Vaughan in 1919 offered that this effigy might belong to Bishop Toclyve alias Richard of Ilchester (d.1188), based on its appearance, which he thought indicated an 79 80 81

Hollis and Hollis, part II, Sept. 1, 1840. Milner, Winchester, 76, citing Matthew Paris. Britton, Winchester, 102, and also for next quote.

644 earlier date than that of des Roches. He posited that the effigy was moved from the choir in 1525, where an inscription to Toclyve on the present choir screen marks its original location.82 E. Blore, in 1936, preferred the attribution to des Roches on stylistic grounds, believing that the work is of a later date than, for example, the extant late twelfth century bishops at Salisbury Cathedral.83 Philip Lindley, discussing style, places it significantly earlier than the demi-effigy of Bishop Aymer (d.1260; Cat. 31) and somewhat earlier than the death of des Roches, and therefore suggests it was made for des Roches before his death in 1238.84 An attribution to des Roches's predecessor, Godfrey de Lucy (d.1204) would refute the consistent antiquarian and medieval references to the tomb of Lucy or Lucius in the retrochoir. The medieval documentary evidence helps shed some light on the episcopal burials at Winchester. According to the Waverley Annals, des Roches's heart was buried at Waverley.85 His body was buried in the cathedral, however, and Matthew Paris described his burial as “ubi etiam dum viverit humilem elegit sepulturam.”86 However, he says nothing about a burial in the north aisle, and does not mention an effigy, or even a marble tomb. Post-medieval historians seem to have interpreted the location in the north nave aisle as 'humble,' and the attribution to des Roches appears to be founded on this flimsy reasoning. Their attribution also may be a result of the distinct lack of any inscription or monument to des Roches anywhere else in the cathedral. But, while the

82 83 84 85

86

Vaughan, 31-2. E Blore, 12. Lindley, “Medieval Sculpture,” 102. Ann. Mon., vol. II, 319. The Winchester annals, Ann. Mon., vol. II, 87-8, simply records his death in 1238 without mentioning burial either at Waverly or Winchester. Paris, Chronica Majora, vol. III, 489-50.

645 effigy is clumsy in execution, a Purbeck effigy is by no means a humble monument; nor was placement in a nave aisle necessarily a humble gesture. Additionally, des Roches was a figure of extremely high standing, and if he were to have commissioned an effigy for his tomb, it most likely would have been of higher quality than the effigy considered here. In direct contrast to the suppositions of post-medieval historians, and seemingly unknown to historians up through much of the twentieth century, is the evidence contained in a Winchester manuscript called the Liber Historialis. This says rather that des Roches's burial was before the high altar on the south side, “coram summo altari in parte australi.”87 If des Roches's burial was seen as humble (although the location is not humble), placed before the high altar, this suggests that his tomb took the form of a flat stone on the floor. It may have formed a counterpart to the plain coped tomb of Bishop Henry de Blois, whose tomb was described in the Liber Historialis as “coram primo altari in parte boreali.”88 Lindley, though without citing the evidence from the Liber Historialis, suggests that the tomb may have been moved from the choir to the nave when the choir screen was refitted in 1525. However, although the choir screen retains commemorative plaques to others buried in the choir whose tombs were disturbed, there is no plaque mentioning the burial of des Roches. This suggests that his tomb was not displaced by the screen.89 I suggest, rather, that the burial of des Roches in the choir and the effigial tomb

87

88

89

BL Cotton Vespasian D.IX, fol. 22, a sixteenth-century copy of the fifteenth-century Liber Historialis of Winton, which otherwise survives in fragments only. This work is unpublished, although John Crook is working on an edition for publication. BL Cotton Vespasian D.IX, fol. 21b; but see Wharton, vol. I, 286, at the end of Thomas Rudborne's Historia Major, who describes Henry de Blois's burial as “coram summo Altari.” Lindley, “Medieval Sculpture,” 102. See also Martin Biddle, “Early Renaissance at Winchester,” Winchester Cathedral, ed. John Crook, 257-304, which discusses the known burials in that area that were moved and/or commemorated on the screen. Is it possible that des Roches's tomb was so humble that by 1525 he was overlooked? Additionally, it is possible that his tomb was left in place in 1525, but

646 that we know was later in the nave are two different monuments entirely. The only other bishops to receive full burial in the cathedral of Winchester from the late twelfth century to 1304 are Bishops Toclyve (d.1188) and de Lucy (d.1204).90 The Liber Historialis says that Richard Toclive was buried at the north side of the high altar in the choir; in 1525, a spot on the north side of the altar, on the new choir screen, featured a commemorative plaque, thereby corresponding to the manuscript evidence.91 De Lucy, who built the Lady Chapel, according to the Liber Historialis was buried just outside of it.92 The effigy, in part because of its clumsiness of execution, is difficult to date by stylistic analysis. Certain details, such as the grooves representing hair and beard, suggest an early date, c.1200, and the crudeness of the figure carving and drapery suggests a sculptor who has not yet reached a high level of sophistication. The rubbery arms found on the figure, for example, are also seen on the late twelfth-century Tournai effigy of an angel carrying a bishop's soul at Ely. However, several other aspects suggest a date somewhere in the much later and rather wide range of c.1250 to c.1290, and the crudeness must thus be attributed to an inexperienced sculptor as well as possible lack of funding for the monument. Features suggesting this later date include the deep relief in 90

91

92

was covered over when the floor was repaved in the early eighteenth century. None of the burial places of the following bishops are mentioned in Cotton Vespasian D.IX until John of Pontoise (d.1304), but other sources indicate that the next four bishops were buried elsewhere: William de Raleigh or Rale (d. 1250), was buried in St Martins, Tours (Ann. Mon., vol. II, 92; Paris, Chronica Majora, vol. V, 178-9; but as noted in Lindley, “Medieval Sculpture,” 120 n.26, Wharton, vol. I, 307, stated that he was buried at Pontigny). Aymer de Valence died in Paris in 1260, but had a heart burial at Winchester which is securely identified (Cat. 31). John of Exeter (d.1268) died in Rome (Ann. Mon., vol. II, 106). Nicholas of Ely (d.1280) was buried at Waverley, but his heart buried at Winchester (Ann. Mon., vol. II, 54 and 393). BL Cotton Vespasian D.IX, fol. 21b; see also Wharton, vol. I, 286, “ad aquilonarem partem summi Altaris Choro.” BL Cotton Vespasian D.IX, fol. 21b-22, and see also in Wharton, vol. I, 286, “ubi extra Capellam B. Virginis humatum est.” The Winchester annals are silent on his burial.

647 which it is carved, the pillow set at a diagonal angle (found on monuments after c.1260, that on Bishop Aymer's tomb slab being an early example; the effigy in question may in fact be an even earlier use of this feature), and the raised colonnettes supported by spurs of foliage (usually found on monuments dating between c.1250 and c.1290, with an effigy at London (Cat. 63) perhaps being the earliest, c.1230?). The final factor to consider is the iconography, which is not typical of a bishop's effigy. The effigy is mitred, holds a book, and no crosier is in evidence. Other bishops' effigies are mitred like this one, but they also hold a crosier and raise one hand in blessing.93 The iconography of the book is more suited to an abbot, as those at Peterborough (Cats. 48-52), although abbots, like bishops, hold a crosier as well. It is possible that the lack of episcopal insignia is what was meant by scholars who thought this might be a “humble” tomb for a bishop. But the lack of insignia should perhaps be taken seriously to mean that this was never the tomb of a bishop. Priors at Winchester were mitred from 1254, and if a late date for the effigy is accepted, this could be the effigy of one of the first mitred priors.94 Attribution to a prior, rather than to the great des Roches, may also explain the inferior quality of the monument.

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There is one possible exception, although the attribution to a bishop is in doubt there also: the effigy on the tomb at Rochester attributed to Bishop Bradfield (Cat. 14). He, too, holds a book rather than a crosier, but the effigy may have been placed in the tomb niche at a later date. Joan Greatrex, 146. According to the Fasti Ecclesiae Anglicanae 1066-1300, ed. D Greenway, vol. II (1971), 90, William de Taunton was Prior of Winchester in 1250 and obtained the privilege of pontificalia in 1254, but was expelled in 1255. He later became Abbot of Milton, a Benedictine Abbey in Dorset, and was bishop-elect of Winchester in 1261-2 although his election was quashed. No death date or location is listed. If this tomb is his, it could date to the 1260s. Whether some priors were originally buried in the church is not known. Some certainly were in the Chapter House; see Quirk, 19, esp. n. 20, where he cites Wharton, vol. I, 285 as source for other priors' burials in the chapter house. The chapter house was taken down c.1637; perhaps the tomb was moved into the cathedral shortly before that? Prior Basing (Cat. 60) also may have been moved into the south transept around that time.

648 Cat. 60 Current location: in the retrochoir, between the south piers of the arcade in the west bay of the retrochoir, west of Beaufort’s chantry Identification: Prior William Basing (d.1295) Major features: A flat, tapered Purbeck slab with a partial incised effigy on a limestone tomb chest. The plain tomb chest appears to be original to the slab, although it now rests on a modern base. On the west panel of the chest is a very faintly incised scene of the crucifixion flanked by Mary and John, once painted, but now only visible in raking light. This tomb chest thus always was intended to rest on the pavement, and prompts the intriguing suggestion that other tomb chests were similarly decorated. The slab has a wide double chamfer around the edges. There is an incised inscription on both layers of chamfered molding, but only around the west, south and east edges of the slab, suggesting that it originally sat against a northern wall. The inscription is rather battered in places. The incised imagery on the slab is a cross with the head of a mitred abbot at the top. The stem of the cross rises from a stepped base, and extends 2/3 of the slab's length. Trilobed foliage sprouts off the stem in at least four places. There is much surface damage part way up the stem, but the head of the abbot is clear above the damaged section. The abbot wears a mitre with lappets and to his right is what looks like a vertical key, and on his left a sword.

649 History, identification, and scholarship: The history of this monument is much the same as Cat. 32. I therefore will only summarize here rather than present the full evidence. Antiquarian evidence shows this tomb was in the south transept, next to Cat. 32, from at least 1635 until c.1817. The monuments in the south transept were moved to the retrochoir by 1817 during a renovation campaign headed by Prebendary Nott. Basing's incised slab and tomb chest was placed then in its current location. The tomb chest was drawn a few times in the late eighteenth century. John Carter sketched a perspective view of this and the adjacent monument in 1784.95 A birds-eye view by Carter shows the cross to have been then in much better condition than today. Below the abbot's bust, and no longer visible at all, was a floriated cross head. The artist Schnebbelie apparently re-discovered the crucifixion scene on the west end and provided a view of it in 1788, although his drawing seems not to have been engraved.96 A description dated c.1786 by Gough tells us “in the South transept of Winchester cathedral is a coffin-fashioned tomb of grey marble, having on the lid a cross flore of this shape and round the ledge in deep cut letters this inscription....” An engraving of the slab is printed just after this text.97 Carter's birds-eye view makes clear that the slab has suffered much flaking since

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97

BL Add Ms 29926, fol. 14, a “south view of two tombs in the south transept of Winchester cathedral taken 1784.” Carter's tidier ink wash, Bodl Gough Maps 225, fol. 130, includes the pavement, and it looks as if the two monuments are up on a step. Glued to this folio is another sheet of paper that has in pencil and ink the birds-eye view of the Basing slab. Bodl Gough Maps 222, fol. 63, ink wash by Schnebbelie, dated June 1788. There is hardly any detail, but the scene is recognizable. This information has been added in a note: “at the head of Basings tomb is carved a relief of the crucifixion with the V and St John as here drawn by Mr Shnebbelie who first discovered it 1788.” There is also a proof of an engraving of the top of the coffin pasted on this page. Gough, Sepulchral Monuments, vol. I, 62-63.

650 1784. The tomb has inspired very little scholarship. Lindley includes it in his rapid survey of monuments in Winchester, suggesting that it originally was set against a north wall, and noting the change in condition over the last two centuries, but he did not note the crucifixion scene on the tomb chest.98 The inscription securely identifies this monument as belonging to Prior Basing.

98

Lindley, “Medieval Sculpture,” 104.

651 Appendix III: List of ecclesiastical effigies known but no longer surviving

BURY ST EDMUNDS Cat 61 (no image) An effigy to Abbot Anselm (d.1148) was mentioned in a medieval manuscript, cited by Zarnecki: Anselm “sepultus est in capella infirmarie exterius versus occidentem ex parte aquilonali inter duas columpnas sub lapide marmoreo cum imagine mitrata suprascripta,” i.e. under a marble stone with a mitred image above it. It is unknown whether this was a Purbeck or Tournai slab; the timing is such that it could easily have been either. Zarnecki suggested it was Tournai.1

LINCOLN CATHEDRAL Cat. 62 (no image) It has been suggested that Bishop Grosseteste of Lincoln had an effigy of metal on his tomb.2 Leland described the tomb as “a goodly tumbe of marble and an image of brasse over it.”3 Rogers, a specialist in brasses, was of the opinion that the date of Grosseteste's death (1253) was too early for a flat brass and that the effigy was more likely to have been a three-dimensional bronze sculpture. A drawing made for Dugdale showed the tomb shortly after its “image of brasse” had been removed.4 Rogers suggested that the channels cut into the base visible in Dugdale's drawing once might have held a threedimensional effigy. Accounts of the reopening of Grossteste's tomb describe that under the pavement was the stone coffin.5 When the lid was removed, a thin lead plate with an embossed face on it was found across the top of the coffin. The stone of the underside of the lid was scooped out where the lead face projected into it. 1 Zarnecki, Romanesque Lincoln, 199, n.229. 2 Rogers, “English Episcopal Monuments,” 20-21, and more hesitantly, DA Stocker, “The Tomb and Shrine of Bishop Grosseteste in Lincoln Cathedral,” England in the Thirteenth Century, Proceedings of the 1984 Harlaxton Symposium (Donington, 1985), 143-148, in which he discusses fragments of sculpture that might belong to the monument. Saul, English Church Monuments, 178, takes the suggestion of a cast bronze effigy for fact. 3 Leland, vol. V, 122. 4 BL Add Ms 71474, fol. 105v, and printed in Stocker, fig.1. 5 Printed in DA Callus, ed., Robert Grosseteste (Oxford, 1955), 246-50, and see also Gough, Sepulchral Monuments, vol. I, 47-48.

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LONDON, ST PAUL'S Cat. 63 This and an adjacent effigial tomb (Cat. 64), now both missing, were engraved for Dugdale's St Paul's by Hollar, and a drawing of the tomb made by Sedgwick in 1641 for Dugdale survives in the British Library.6 The effigy, which Dugdale identified as Bishop Eustace de Fauconberg's (d.1228), is in deep relief under a horizontal canopy. The trefoiled canopy with pinnacles at the sides is supported on colonnettes raised high off the slab, with foliage spurs supporting them. The chest has five quatrefoils along its length. The sketch is labeled in pencil, “these 2 in one Arch in the south wall about the quire.” Dugdale noted in his publication that this and Cat 64 were among the monuments which remained entire “until the most recent destruction” (i.e. the Civil War).

Cat. 64 This tomb, like Cat. 63, was also recorded in Dugdale's St Paul's and in a drawing now in the British Library.7 It lay east of and directly adjacent to Cat. 63. Dugdale identified the tomb as belonging to Bishop Henry de Wengham (d.1262). The slab has no colonnettes, and the solid, faceted canopy over the head is similar to that on Cat. 16 at Rochester. The engraving does not show them, but the sketch indicates the presence of low curls of foliage along the edges of the slab.

ROCHESTER CATHEDRAL Cat. 65 (no image) The tomb for Bishop Walter de Merton (d.1277) is known to have had an enameled metal effigy made in Limoges. The executors' accounts for the purchase of the tomb from Limoges are recorded: it cost 40 pounds, 5s and 6d for the effigy's construction and its carriage from Limoges to Rochester.8 John Blair recognized a Purbeck slab laid nearby as 6 Dugdale, St Paul's, 49, 81 and plate facing; BL Add Ms 71474, fol. 180. 7 Ibid. 8 See John Blair, “The Limoges enamel tomb of Bishop Walter de Merton,” Church Monuments 10 (1995), 3-6, for a full discussion of the tomb, including the executors' accounts. See also Nigel Saul,

653 probably originally serving as the base for the effigy. Marks on the slab provide strong evidence that the slab was once supported by six short columns, and Blair suggested that, like several continental examples and Cat. 68, these columns may also have been metal. The slab, effigy and supports were placed under a two-bay stone architectural surround which still survives, albeit with a new marble effigy as a replacement. The effigy was destroyed at the Reformation, but Merton College paid for a replacement in the 1590s. In 1852, the tomb was remodeled again, this time with the current effigy.

SALISBURY CATHEDRAL Cat. 66 Leland, in c.1540, noted a tomb in the north aisle with an image of gilt bronze: “Wytte Epus Sarum cum imagine aenea de aurata.”9 His identification of the effigy as belonging to a Bishop Wytte is curious, as there is no bishop commonly known as Wytte. Rich Jones read Leland's entry as being an error for Bishop Walter de la Wyle.10 However, the placement in the north aisle does not fit with anything we know about Bishop Wyle (Cat. 21). There is some evidence that suggests that Bishop Wytte was the same person as Bishop William of York (d.1256). Bishop William of York was described in the c.1720 Register of Succession as “Jacet ad altare s. Johannis coram altare apostolorum in tumulo deaurato.”11 Christopher Wordsworth believed that this altar was in the north choir aisle, which fits with Leland's description.12 William of York died on Jan 31. In the fifteenthcentury obit calendar that survives from Salisbury, the bishop commemorated on that day is listed as Bishop William Wilton. That Bishop William of York/Wilton/Wytte might be the same person is suggested in Hemingby's fourteenth-century register, which includes a list of feasts, anniversaries and other special days on which the Dean is bound to entertain the ministers of the cathedral. It specifies the Dean's obligations on days of bishops'

9 10 11 12

“The Medieval Monuments in Rochester Cathedral,” 170-1. Leland, vol. I, 265. Rich Jones, Fasti, 90. Ibid., 88-9. Wordsworth, “List of Altars in Salisbury Cathedral,” Wiltshire Archaeological and Natural History Magazine 38 (1914), 559-60, writing in opposition to Malden and Rich Jones, who, basing their information on eighteenth-century tradition, thought it was in the south aisle. Chantry masses were said for William of York at the altar of Apostles.

654 anniversaries, which includes, among anniversaries of other bishops, the anniversary of a Bishop William Wyt, and does not mention a William of York or William Wilton.13 By Symonds' visit in 1644, the effigy did not arouse comment, and perhaps was already gone. It is not mentioned in any later documents.

WELLS CATHEDRAL Cat. 67 A tomb for Bishop Jocelin (d.1242) of Wells might have included a metal effigy. Jocelin was the first to be buried in the cathedral since the shift of the diocesan seat to the newly remodeled church at Wells. Leland noted that he was buried “in medio Chori Eccl. Wellen. tumba alta cum imag. aerea.”14 As with other notices of brass tombs in Leland's records, it is uncertain whether the image is a flat brass slab or a three-dimensional effigy. Rogers suggested that the date is too early for a flat brass; Pamela Tudor-Craig stated that it is unlikely that Dean Langton (Cat. 68) had the earliest bronze effigy in England, and suggested that Jocelin's tomb (and that of Grosseteste, Cat. 62) might have been a precedent.15 Tudor-Craig also noted that Henry III, who wanted a bronze effigy for his daughter Katherine, ordered Simon of Wells to the court to make one in 1257. The presence of a specialist in this material with Wells as a cognomen is extremely suggestive. The effigy was gone by the time that Godwin published in 1601, as he stated that Jocelin lay “under a marble tomb of late years shamefully defaced.” His Latin version published in 1616 noted more specifically that the marble tomb had been adorned formerly with his image in brass.16 In 1634, a lieutenant from Norwich noted only that “in the midst of the Quire is the Monument of Bishop Josceline in Marble.”17 13 Hemingby's Register, 166. Adding to the confusion is the existence of a brass slab to Chancellor Thomas Wytte, which Symonds in 1644 saw in the floor of the northeast transept, and a raised tomb for William Wilton. Both were sixteenth-century chancellors of Salisbury. For the obit calendar, see Wordsworth, Ceremonies, 231; Wordsworth and Macleane, Statutes, 3. 14 Leland, vol. I, 293. 15 Rogers, “English Episcopal Monuments,” 20-21; Tudor-Craig, “Wells Sculpture,” 123 and 111, where she discusses master Simon of Wells. 16 Godwin (1601), 366; Godwin, De Praesulibus (London, 1616). 17 BL Ms Lansdowne 213, fol. 337b.

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YORK MINSTER Cat. 68 William de Langton, dean of York (d.1279) had a metal effigy, probably of bronze, in the south transept of the cathedral. This was drawn for Dugdale in 1641, and was lost approximately four years later.18 Dugdale's drawing shows that the effigy was in low relief, and that the dean wore mass vestments and held a book. The slab had an inscription along its four edges, and rested on four short columns, which Dugdale helpfully labeled as brass. The slab supporting the effigy was of gray marble overlaid with a brass plate, on which lay the effigy. The tomb was also described as brass by Roger Dodsworth in 1618, but his description of the monument is not otherwise very helpful.19 It is curious that Leland did not make note of the effigy when he visited in the 1540s. The monument has been studied by Sally Badham, who detailed its documentation and its physical history, suggested that it may have been a cast bronze effigy made abroad, and demonstrated the wealth that William de Langton amassed that allowed him to commission such a tomb. Langton's effigy and the Limoges effigy for Bishop de Merton (Cat. 65) are the most securely documented metal ecclesiastical effigies in England.

18 College of Arms, Ms “Yorkshire Arms,” fol. 111V, reproduced in and discussed by Sally Badham, “A Lost Bronze Effigy of 1279 from York Minster,” Antiquaries Journal 60 (1980), 59-65 and by Sarah Brown, 'Our magnificent fabrick', 43. 19 Bodl. Ms Dodsworth 161, fol. 17. He gave a transcription of the epitaph, and noted that the brass tomb was surrounded by an iron grate.

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Cat. 1 Canterbury Cathedral Photo: author

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Cat. 2 Carlisle Cathedral Photo: author

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Cat. 3 Ely Cathedral Photo: author

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Cat. 3 Ely Cathedral Photo: RCHME

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Cat. 3 Ely Cathedral Photo: author

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Cat. 3 Ely Cathedral Photo: author

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Cat. 4 Ely Cathedral Photo: RCHME (left), author (right)

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Cat. 4 Ely Cathedral Photo: author

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Cat. 5 Ely Cathedral Photo: author

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Cat. 6 Exeter Cathedral Photo: author

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Cat. 6 Exeter Cathedral Photo: author

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Cat. 7 Exeter Cathedral Photo: author

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Cat. 7 Exeter Cathedral Photo: author

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Cat. 8 Exeter Cathedral Photo: author

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Cat. 9 Exeter Cathedral Photo: author

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Cat. 9 Exeter Cathedral Photo: author

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Cat. 10 Hereford Cathedral Photo: author

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Cat. 10 Hereford Cathedral Photo: author

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Cat. 11 Lichfield Cathedral Photo: author

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Cat. 11 Lichfield Cathedral Photo: author

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Cat. 12 Lichfield Cathedral Photo: author

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Cat. 13 London, Temple Church Photo: author

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Cat. 13 London, Temple Church Photo: author

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Cat. 14 Rochester Cathedral Photo: author

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Cat. 15 Rochester Cathedral photo: author

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Cat. 15 Rochester Cathedral Photo: author

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Cat. 16 Rochester Cathedral Photo: author

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Cat. 16 Rochester Cathedral Photo: author

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Cat. 17 Salisbury Cathedral Photo: author

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Cat. 17 Salisbury Cathedral Photo: author

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Cat. 18 Salisbury Cathedral Photo: author

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Cat. 18 Salisbury Cathedral Photo: author

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Cat. 19 Salisbury Cathedral Photo: RCHME

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Cat. 19 Salisbury Cathedral photo: author

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Cat. 20 Salisbury Cathedral Photo: RCHME

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Cat. 20 Salisbury Cathedral Photo: author

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Cat. 20 Salisbury Cathedral Photo: author

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Cat. 31 Winchester Cathedral Photo: author

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Cat. 32 Winchester Cathedral Photo: author

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Cat. 33 Worcester Cathedral Photo: author

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Cat. 33 Worcester Cathedral Photo: author

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Cat. 34 Worcester Cathedral Photo: author

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Cat. 34 Worcester Cathedral Photo: author

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Cat. 35 Worcester Cathedral Photo: author

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Cat. 35 Worcester Cathedral Photo: author

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Cat. 36 York Minster Photo: RCHME

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Cat. 36 York Minster Photo: author

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Cat. 36 York Minster Photo: author

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Cat. 45 London, Westminster Abbey Photo: author

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Cat. 48 Peterborough Cathedral Photo: author

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Cat. 48 Peterborough Cathedral Photo: author

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Cat. 49 Peterborough Cathedral Photo: author

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Cat. 49 Peterborough Cathedral Photo: author

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Cat. 50 Peterborough Cathedral Photo: author

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Cat. 50 Peterborough Cathedral Photo: author

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Cat. 51 Peterborough Cathedral Photo: author

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Cat. 51 Peterborough Cathedral Photo: author

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Cat. 55 Sherborne Abbey Photo: author

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Cat. 56 Sherborne Abbey Photo: author

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Cat. 57 Sherborne Abbey Photo: author

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Cat. 58 Tolpuddle, Dorset Photo: Drury, “Early Ecclesiastical Effigies”

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Cat. 59 Winchester Cathedral Photo: author

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Cat. 60 Winchester Cathedral Photo: author

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Cat. 60 Winchester Cathedral Photo: author

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Cat. 63 London, St Paul’s Cathedral Photo: Dugdale, St Paul’s

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Cat. 64 London, St Paul’s Cathedral photo: Dugdale, St Paul’s

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Fig. 1 York, Roman sarcophagus Photo: author

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Fig. 2 Rochester Cathedral Photo: author

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Fig. 3 Rochester Cathedral Photos: author

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Fig. 4 Winchester Cathedral Photo: author

Fig. 5 Canterbury Cathedral Photo: author

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Fig.6 Tomb of Albericus de Ver, Bures, Suffolk Photo: Tummers, Secular Effigies, fig. 174

Fig.7 Longespee tomb, Salisbury Cathedral Photo: author

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Fig.8 King John, Worcester Cathedral Photo: author

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Fig. 9 Ely Cathedral Photos: author

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Fig. 10 Lincoln Cathedral Photo: author

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Fig. 11 Selston, Notts Photo: Greenhill, Incised Effigial Slabs, fig. 16b

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Fig. 12 St-Memmie, nr. Châlons-sur-Marne Photo: Bauch, Das mittelalterliche Grabbild , figs. 37, 38

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Fig.13 Lisieux Cathedral Photo: Bauch, Das mittelalterliche Grabbild , fig. 116

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Fig. 14 Seal of Bishop Jocelin of Salisbury (d.1184) Photo: EEA 18, Salisbury, pl.vii

Fig.15 Seal of Ralph, Archbishop of Canterbury Photo: English Romanesque Art, cat. 342

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Fig. 16 Rouen Cathedral Photo: Morganstern, “Liturgical and Honorific Implications” fig. 4

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Fig.17 St-Hilaire, Poitiers Photo: Bauch, Das mittelalterliche Grabbild, fig. 57

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Fig. 18 Carcassonne Photo: Bulletin Monumental 111 (1953)

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Fig. 19 Bodleian MS Gough Drawings-Gaignieres, vol. 9, fol. 48 Photo: Morganstern, “Liturgical and Honorific Implications,” fig. 2

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Fig. 20 Temple Church, London Photo: author

Fig. 21 Romsey Abbey Photo: RCHME

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Fig. 22 Bishop John de Sheppey, Rochester Cathedral Photo: author

Fig. 23 Tomb of Abbot Alan, Tewkesbury Abbey Photo: Derek Walden

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Fig. 24 Bishop William de Breuse, Llandaff Cathedral Photo: author

Fig. 25 Lead plates, St Augustine’s Abbey, Canterbury Photo: St Augustine’s Abbey, Canterbury, ed. R Gem, fig. 54

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Fig. 26 Plan manipulated by author. Source: RCHME, An Inventory of the Historical Monuments in Herefordshire, vol. I, 105

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Fig. 27 Plan manipulated by author. Source: Brown, ‘Sumptuous and Richly Adorn’d’, fig. 1, p. 2

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Fig. 28 Plan manipulated by author. Source: VCH Cambridgeshire, vol. IV

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Fig. 29 Winchester Cathedral Photos: author

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Fig. 30 Sculpture of Durandus, Moissac Photo: Cazes and Scellès, Le Cloître de Moissac