Offer an overview and a number of examinations of Arthur's fortunes. This work reveals the role of Fortune itself, often personified and consistently instrumental, in accounts of Arthur's court and reign. It traces the trajectory of the Arthurian legend, and follows the turning of Fortune's wheel, emphasizing the flourishing of the legend.

A provocative interdisciplinary study of the Victorian novel and Pre-Raphaelite art, this book offers a new understanding of Victorian novels through Pre-Raphaelite paintings. Concentrating on Elizabeth Gaskell, Wilkie Collins, George Eliot, and Thomas Hardy and aligning each novelist with specific painters, this work interprets narrative redrawings of Pre-Raphaelite paintings within a range of cultural contexts as well as alongside recent theoretical work on gender. Letters, reviews, and journals convincingly reinforce the contentions about the novels and their connection with paintings. Featuring color reproductions of Pre-Raphaelite paintings, this book reveals the great achievement of Pre-Raphaelite art and its impact on the Victorian novel. Arguing for the direct relationship between Pre-Raphaelite painting and the Victorian novel, this book fills a gap in the currently available literature devoted to the Victorian novel, the Pre-Raphaelites, and the connection of Pre-Raphaelite art to Victorian poetry. Visual readings of the Victorian novel channel the twenty-first-century readers' desire for the visual into the exploration of Pre-Raphaelite art in the Victorian novel, in the process offering fresh insights into the representation of gender in Victorian culture. Through a textual and a visual journey, this work reveals a new approach to the Victorian novel and Pre-Raphaelite art with profound implications for the study of both.

In telling Fortunes by Cards—as in all games in which they are employed—the Ace ranks highest in value. Then comes the King, followed by the Queen, Knave, Ten, Nine, Eight, and Seven; these being generally the only cards used. The order, and comparative value of the different suits, is as follows:—First on the list stand "Clubs," as they mostly portend happiness; and—no matter how numerous, or how accompanied—are rarely or never of bad augury. Next come "Hearts," which usually signify joy, liberality, or good temper; "Diamonds," on the contrary, denote delay, quarrels, and annoyance; and "Spades"—the worst suit of all—grief, sickness, and loss of money. We are of course speaking generally, as, in many cases, the position of cards entirely changes their signification; their individual and relative meaning being often widely different. Thus, for example, the King of Hearts, the Nine of Hearts, and the Nine of Clubs, respectively signify, a liberal man, joy, and success in love, but change their position, by placing the King between the two nines, and you would read that a man, then rich and happy, would be ere long consigned to a prison!

The stunning mosaics that illustrate the story of Creation in the church of San Marco in Venice are the focus of Penny Howell Jolly's compelling and provocative book. Scholars of medieval art have long been interested in the Genesis mosaics because they copy a nearly destroyed fifth-century illuminated Greek manuscript known as the Cotton Genesis. But instead of seeing the mosaics as a vehicle for reconstructing a lost cycle of paintings, Jolly presents them as a social document revealing the essential misogyny that existed in thirteenth-century Venice. Jolly analyzes more than twenty scenes, one by one in narrative order, and her perceptive reading goes well beyond what the Genesis Vulgate text says about Eve and Adam. The mosaics establish Eve as the culpable character from the very moment of her Creation, says Jolly, and depict her as dangerous and unrepentant at the end. Incorporating both feminist religious and narratological studies, Jolly poses important questions on the nature of visual language as opposed to verbal language. The very ability of visual forms to recall a rich variety of references is one source of their power, and propaganda must have enough breadth of reference to be read by diverse groups. The San Marco cupola, Jolly maintains, is dealing in powerful propaganda, and her pictorial observations offer an articulate and refreshing new view of this well-known work.

These descriptions of leisure-time activities for Victorian girls were designed to cultivate their curiosity and inventiveness, and to help them gain self-confidence regarding their competence and talents.