Gothic Tombs of Kinship is a study of one monumental tomb type in Northern Europe, traced from the thirteenth through the fifteenth centuries. This is the first extensive treatment that recognizes the kinship tomb for what it is, rather than compounding it with its celebrated counterpart, the ceremonial tomb, where the final rites or funeral procession of the deceased are represented. The unique characteristic of a tomb of kinship is that it includes a figurative representation of a family tree. This book establishes the kinship tomb as an important Northern European iconographical type, equal in interest to the ceremonial tomb as a manifestation of the mentality of the late Middle Ages. It traces the development of the type from its inception in France and diffusion in the Low Countries and England until its vulgarization in prefabricated tombstones and alabaster tombs in the fifteenth century. The study demonstrates that after being imported into England in the late thirteenth century, the kinship tomb became a vehicle for Edward III's assertion of his claim to the French throne and, inspired by the king and court, the preferred type of the fourteenth-century English baron. Limited to the princes and knights and their ladies in the thirteenth century, the tomb was adopted by the minor gentry and the middle class by the late fourteenth century, with a corresponding change from an extended family program to one confined to the nuclear family. Gothic Tombs of Kinship identifies a representative number of kinship tombs from the period and the territories that marked their apogee, deciphers their programs, and places them in their cultural context.

Despite the profusion of knightly effigies created between c. 1240 and c. 1330 for tombs throughout the British Isles, these commemorative figures are relatively unknown to art historians and medievalists. Until now, their rich visual impact and significance has been relatively unexplored by scholars. In this study, Rachel Dressler examines this category of sculpture, illustrating how English military figures employ a visual language of pose, costume, and attributes to construct a masculine ideal that privileges fighting prowess, elite status, and sexual virility. Like military figures on the Continent, English effigies represent knights wearing chain mail and surcoats, and bearing shields and swords; unique to the British examples, however, is the display of an aggressive sword handling pose and dynamically crossed legs. Outwardly hyper masculine, the carved figures partake in artistic subterfuge: the lives of those memorialized did not always match proffered images, testifying to the changing function of the knight in England during the thirteenth and early fourteenth centuries. This study traces the development of English military figures, and analyzes in detail three fourteenth-century examples-those commemorating Robert I De Vere in Hatfield Broad Oak (Essex), Richard Gyvernay at Limington (Somerset), and Henry Allard in Winchelsea (Sussex). Similar in appearance, these three sculptures represent persons of distinctly different social levels: De Vere belonged to the highest aristocratic rank, where Gyvernay was a lesser county knight, and Allard was from a merchant family, raising questions about his knightly standing. Ultimately, Dressler's analysis of English knight effigies demonstrates that the masculine warrior during the late Middle Ages was frequently a constructed ideal rather than a lived experience.

Medieval tombs often depict husband and wife lying side-by-side: demonstrating, as in the words of Philip Larkin's poem An Arundel Tomb, their "stone fidelity". This is the first book to address the phenomenon of the "double tomb", drawing the rich history of tomb sculpture into dialogue with discourses of power, marriage, gender and emotion, and placing them in the context of ecclesastical material culture of the time more broadly. It offers new interpretations of some of the most famous medieval monuments, such as those found in Westminster Abbey and Canterbury Cathedral, as well as drawing attention to a host of lesser-known memorials from throughout Europe. In turn, these monuments provide a vantage point from which to reconsider the culture of medieval marriage, from wedding rings and dresses, to the sacramental symbolism of matrimony, and embodied ritual practices. Whilst it is tempting to read these sculptures as straightforward expressions of romantic feeling, the author argues that a closer look reveals the artifice behind the emotion: the artistic, religious, political and legal agenda underlying the rhetoric of married love.

Picturing Death: 1200–1600 brings together essays considering four key centuries of imagery related to human mortality, from tomb sculpture to painted altarpieces, from manuscripts to printed books, and from minute carved objects to large-scale architecture.

Chantries were religious institutions endowed with land, goods and money. At their heart was the performance of a daily mass for the spiritual benefit of their founders, and the souls of all faithful dead. To Church reformers, they exemplified some of medieval Catholicism’s most egregious errors; but to the orthodox they offered opportunities to influence what occurred in an unknowable afterlife. The eleven essays presented here lead the reader through the earliest manifestations of the chantry, the origins and development of ‘stone-cage’ chapels, royal patronage of commemorative art and architecture, the chantry in the late medieval parish, the provision of music and textiles, and a series of specific chantries created for William of Wykeham, Edmund Audley, Thomas Spring and Abbot Islip, to the eventual history and the cultural consequences of their suppression in the mid-16th century.

Samson and Delilah in Medieval Insular French investigates several different adaptations of the story of Samson that enabled it to move from a strictly religious sphere into vernacular and secular artworks. Catherine Léglu explores the narrative’s translation into French in medieval England, examining the multiple versions of the Samson narrative via its many adaptations into verse, prose, visual art and musical. Utilizing a multidisciplinary approach, this text draws together examples from several genres and media, focusing on the importance of book learning to secular works. In analysing this Biblical narrative, Léglu reveals the importance of the Samson and Delilah story as a point of entry into a fuller understanding of medieval translations and adaptations of the Bible.

In this volume, experts from around the world investigate childhood in the past, showing why it is important to understand childhood, why different cultures construct different ideas of how to rear children, what part children play in the community, and when and why childhood ends.