This is an excellent book. It is lavishly illustrated, almost exclusively in colour throughout, with the plates sensibly embedded within the text of each chapter. There are ninety-five images of church plans, maps, family trees, images of sculptured effigies, incised slabs and brasses in high-definition and of good quality. The author and publisher are to be commended on such a high standard of production, as images are an important part of any discussion on tomb monuments. The material is organised very well and a pleasure to read; it is elegantly written and full of new ideas on the patronage and purpose of medieval funerary commemoration (although some may appear controversial to one or two traditionalists). All too often monuments of the dead are shown in splendid isolation with little regard to the context of their surroundings or, indeed, in their relationship with other types of memorial nearby. Dr Barker has swept away this old-fashioned approach and considers all types of tomb monument in her quest for the double tomb, and in particular those where man and wife are to be found holding hands. What is particularly enjoyable is the ‘what does this mean?’ question, for, as we soon learn, double tombs and handholding reveal much not only on the construction and patronage of these designs, and also the obvious association with the liturgy and prayers for the dead, but also medieval attitudes towards companionship, marriage, emotion and love.
The introduction begins with the final stanza from Philip Larkin’s poem ‘An Arundel Tomb’, which sets the scene for what follows. We learn of the author’s comprehensive understanding of her subject matter where her questions are placed within the historiography of the topic. This is further demonstrated in the excellent bibliography of almost thirty pages to be found at the end of the book. The first chapter, however, is on ‘The Double Tomb: marriage, symbol and society’, an informative and erudite account of the origins of joint tomb commemoration. The remarkable and under-used collection of drawings by Roger de Gaignières of largely lost tombs from western France, Burgundy, Paris and its region has been used to reveal the origins of the double tomb from the second quarter of the thirteenth century and their gradual popularity until around 1350 and followed thereafter by a rapid increase. Good use has also been made of another under-appreciated resource, the catalogue of brass rubbings from the Victoria and Albert Museum, London, produced in an updated catalogue by Muriel Clayton. In England, the popularity of Continental influences came about a century or so later. As the author rightly notes, this represented an enormous shift in funerary culture for now the living would gaze on themselves in death with the surviving spouse often responsible for their dead partner’s memorial as well as their own. The author considers different reasons for this development, but rightly concludes that ‘the emergence of the double tomb was entangled with the increasing personalisation of the funerary monument’ (p 49). And indeed this opens the door for a consideration of what the author has termed ‘queer tombs’ of two English knights in Constantinople, of about 1391, and the well-known brass for two ladies at Etchingham in East Sussex, about eighty years later. One or two readers might raise an eye-brow at this, but it is an innovative way of thinking about double tombs and the author is right not to shy away from it.
Chapter 2, ‘Love’s Rhetorical Power: the royal tomb’, notes the variation in royal commemorative programmes in medieval Europe. It is notable that, during the thirteenth and most of the fourteenth centuries, the monarchs of France and England were largely marked by single composition effigies as expressions of continuity, in contrast to those in, for example, Denmark and Iberia. The earliest example of this is the tomb of Charles iv of France and his consort Jeanne d’Evreux, and this reveals the agency of the widow in the commission and construction of their shared memorial. This was to continue with their successors, while in England only three examples from the late medieval period suggest any interest in this design, namely the tombs of Richard ii and Anne of Bohemia, Henry iv and Joan of Navarre, and Henry vii and Elizabeth of York. This break in royal tomb tradition is considered further in the relationship between Richard and Anne and the king’s influence and direction on their joint tomb in the Confessor’s Chapel at Westminster Abbey. The iconography of this royal monument, their initials engraved onto their robes, the handholding and expression of shared power, and the texts from their epitaphs reveal a public affection absent from the tombs of their predecessors. Their tomb, it is argued, is also used as a tool to transform the couple’s infertility into evidence of their saintly virtue, and it was perhaps no coincidence that images of Christ and the Virgin were included on the tester immediately above the royal couple. A double handholding tomb was commissioned for King Richard’s cousin, Philippa of Lancaster, and her husband João i of Portugal at the Dominican convent of Santa Maria da Vitória in Batalha. Theirs is the centrepiece of the Founder’s Chapel and is truly enormous: one has to see it in person to gain a true understanding of the sheer magnificence of this splendid tomb monument – and indeed to enjoy the magnificence of the monastery more generally. Queen Philippa died before construction of the royal tomb began, but her influence is clear for all to see. Yet, as well as an expression of English influence in a Portuguese monastery, the memorial for João and Philippa brought legitimacy to the royal house (he was illegitimate) and continuity, with their tomb flanked by those of their children, whereby ‘the royal family becomes the model for a broader familiar order’ (p 146). The epitaph on the base of the tomb is a remarkable 1,700 words and emphasises the union of the royal couple together with their love. It also describes the exhumations and reinterments of their bodies and of those present – in their order of precedence – at their eventual reburial.
The development of the double monument paved the way – quite literally – for multiple effigies of subsequent spouses: an excellent photograph of Robert Ingleton and his three wives from Thornton (Bucks) has been used to illustrate this point. Their brass opens chapter 3 on ‘Gender, Agency and the Much-Married Woman’. Dr Barker notes that this was a feature largely for men and that it is rare to find a wife flanked by more than one husband. This reflects the complexities of remarriage felt by many well-off widows in the late medieval period, which is briefly considered. More often than not it was social status, length of marriage and emotional attachment that led particular widows to choose which husband to join in death, and a number of iconic examples are taken to demonstrate this: Queen Joan, for example, was able to include her many identities on her tomb with Henry iv at Canterbury, while Beatrice of Portugal, an illegitimate daughter of João i, chose to be buried and commemorated with her first husband, Thomas earl of Arundel, at Arundel (West Sussex), where their tomb reflects her choices. The agency and influence of the widow in the commissioning of tomb programmes is skilfully discussed in the section of this chapter devoted to Margaret Holland, duchess of Clarence, niece of Richard ii and (half) sister-in-law and later daughter-in-law of Henry iv. There are close comparisons with the chapel and tomb of King João and Queen Philippa in Batalha, for it was the duchess who played a guiding hand in the construction of her own tomb and chapel, as well as requesting the exhumation and reburial of both husbands from elsewhere in the cathedral with her in the Holland Chapel. It was resplendent with the heraldic arms of not only her husbands but also her natal family and of her sons. The joint tomb has three effigies carved of alabaster, with Margaret at the centre flanked by each husband on either side; such a display was almost unheard of at this time. The tomb, the chapel and the heraldic motifs are an excellent example of a wealthy aristocratic widow, with strong royal connections, who took her commemorative responsibilities seriously while at the same time making herself the focus.
The final chapter, ‘Holding Hands: gesture, sign, sacrament’, identifies thirty-six surviving examples of handholding couples on mostly English compositions from the fourteenth and fifteenth centuries. The author has also found a further nine now lost instances of this fashion. All of them show married couples and all of them show the man on the left-hand side with his right hand joining that of his bride. The significance of the right hand is evident from images in other mediums of the period, the rubrics of service books from England and France and the practicalities of construction. Dr Barker demonstrates that this was a largely English phenomenon over a seventy-year period from 1370 to 1440, with a brief burst of popularity by members of the Troutbeck and Boteler families of Cheshire in the 1450s and ’60s. They are shown in a variety of different materials: in brass, on incised slabs, as carved effigies from alabaster and freestone and of copper-alloy. This is important as it suggests that handholding tombs were not peculiar to one workshop but that different craftsmen were involved in the production. The point is emphasised that these memorials were intended to command attention. The magnificent tomb for Ralph and Katherine Green at Lowick (Northants) once again demonstrates the agency of the widow in its commission. In this instance a contract has survived that identifies the craftsmen involved as Thomas Prentys and Robert Sutton of Chellaston (Derbys) and that the tomb cost £40. Theirs was a highly distinguished workshop, and Katherine wanted the best. Yet she was not buried with Ralph, and instead chose to be interred and commemorated before the high altar of the Black Friars church in Norwich with the remains of her second husband, Sir Simon Felbrigg, which brings us back to questions of choice, identity and audience. After a final word in the Epilogue, the book concludes with a complete bibliography, a place and name index and a thematic index.
This new book brings to life the history of the double tomb monument. It is informative and readable and draws on both extant and lost material. It places the subject matter in the contexts of the age and considers all forms of tomb alongside each other and not in isolation. The fashion for handholding raises important questions about production, motive and networks, and about the environment in which they were placed, and the author has provided much to consider and reflect upon. Stone Fidelity is a must not only for the already groaning shelves of tomb enthusiasts but also for anyone interested in, to borrow a phrase, effigies with attitude.
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