Edward the Confessor, according to William Wordsworth

Today is the feast of the translation of Edward the Confessor. This day celebrates the anniversary of when his dead body was placed in its shrine at Westminster Abbey in recognition of his sainthood, and this took place on October 13, 1163, only two years after his sainthood had been formally acknowledged by Pope Alexander III. A translation, or translatio, is the moving of a saint's remains to a new site, often a shrine placed in such a way that the faithful could see it when they were in the church. October 13 became, in the course of the thirteenth century during the reign of Henry III, the principal feast-day for the Confessor, although this had previously been his death-day, January 5. (For the development of the liturgical feast-days, see this blogpost.)

I have written several blogposts about Edward the Confessor, since his cult was the subject of my MA thesis, and several of these give a thorough account of the development of his cult. This time around, however, I will commemorate the translatio Edwardi by presenting to you a poem by William Wordsworth, "The Norman Conquest" which was the thirty-first of his ecclesiastical sonnets, composed in the period 1821-22. (The text is taken from this website.)

Wordsworth's sonnet only treats Edward very briefly, and rather condescendingly, and it is a clear testimony to how Edward's role in the Norman Conquest was perceived at least by the poet, if not by a wider segment of the British literati. The role of Edward in the prelude to the invasion in 1066 has been a contested issue ever since William the Conqueror laid claim to being Edward's chosen successor (for more on this controversy, see this blogpost).

For William Wordsworth, however, the verdict is clear: It is Edward who is to blame for what he sees as the "evanescence of the Saxon line", presumably meaning the line of Saxon kings which the ecclesiastical sonnets have in part followed up to this point. This testiness towards the changes brought on by the Norman Conquest is probably not that uncommon Wordsworth's own time. At the very least, it is close to the sentiment of Edward Augustus Freeman (1823-97), who wrote in his six-volume The History of the Norman Conquest of England (published between 1867 to 1879). Here, Freeman launches the conviction that the Norman Conquest eradicated English culture to such an extent that it was only the later sainthood of Edward that helped his name survive the Middle Ages.

Whatever the prevalence of Wordsworth's approach to the dramatis personae of the Conquest, the sonnet is a suitable reminder that attitudes are not constant and that Edward who was revered as a saint and patron in the Middle Ages, by the nineteenth century had found himself cast in a very different role

The sigil of Edward the Confessor, as Anglorum basilei, king of the English
Courtesy of Wikimedia

Ecclesiastical Sonnets, XXI - The Norman Conquest

The woman-hearted Confessor prepares
The evanescence of the Saxon line.
Hark! 'tis the tolling Curfew!--the stars shine;
But of the lights that cherish household cares
And festive gladness, burns not one that dares
To twinkle after that dull stroke of thine,
Emblem and instrument, from Thames to Tyne,
Of force that daunts, and cunning that ensnares!
Yet as the terrors of the lordly bell,
That quench, from hut to palace, lamps and fires,           
Touch not the tapers of the sacred quires;
Even so a thraldom, studious to expel
Old laws, and ancient customs to derange,
To Creed or Ritual brings no fatal change.





Similar blogposts

A trip to Westminster Abbey

The cult of Edward the Confessor

Edward the Confessor and Thomas Becket

A poem for Harold Godwinson

Edward the Confessor and the nightingales

The Chill of the Hunt - hunting tips from the classical and medieval peripheries

In a previous blogpost I talked about the appearances of bearded women on the peripheries of the medieval world, and I lingered a bit on their mention in the encyclopedia De Natura Rerum, compiled by Thomas de Cantimpré (d.1272). This encyclopedia is a treasure-trove of medieval knowledge, and a great window into how the world was understood by the learned of the Christian west. One recurring feature in the learned litereature of the Middle Ages is of course the weirdness of the world's peripheries, the monsters and hominids of the far north and far east, perhaps best known to modern readers through Marco Polo's Il Millione or The Travels of John Mandeville. This weird world in earth's remote corners - figuratively speaking, because as we know, people in the Middle Ages did NOT believe the world was flat (see here, and here) - was a source of wonder to lay and learned alike, and make great reading even today.

One of the many delightful entries in Thomas de Cantimpré's De Natura Rerum deals with how the elephant is hunted, as shown by the illumination below. It was believed in the Middle Ages that the elephant had no knees and could therefore not bend down or lie down when sleeping. To make up for this defect, it was said, elephants spend their nights leaning against a tree where they slept. To hunt the elephant, therefore, you had only to chop down the tree, either before the elephant went to bed or while he was sleeping (although in the illumination below he seems to be wide awake). When the tree was sawed in two, the elephant would have no support, lose balance and fall helplessly to ground where he could be killed. 

Elephants hunted by saw
Valenciennes - BM - ms. 0320, f.051v, De Rerum Natura, Thomas Cantimpre, c.1290
Courtesy of enluminures.culture.fr

This belief in the jointless animal sleeping against a tree is a very old one, and the perhaps most famous instance is perhaps the description of the moose in Julius Caesar's Gallic Wars, which is also said to be hunted by the same method: Hunters follow the tracks to the moose's sleeping-tree, and when this has been found they undermine the roots or cut into the tree so that it can't support the weight of the mighty moose.

The two motifs are most likely connected, but how I do not know. Both these texts, however, have that in common that their respective authors are writing about their peripheries. Caesar wrote about the Gaul and Germania, a transalpine world which he had visited and in which he had held battle, but about whose nature and history he was ignorant and had to rely on local stories and tales, some no doubt exaggerated or invented, perhaps knowingly pulling the Roman imperator's leg while laughing behind his back.

When Thomas de Cantimpré applies this motif to his encyclopedia, he becomes part of a long tradition, repeating only what is well known about elephants in learned circles, supported by classical authority and the conviction of repetition rather than any eye-witness stories. Few learned men in the Middle Ages had ever seen an elephant, but of Thomas had seen one, he might have changed his mind about its appearance, as did his contemporary Matthew Paris, when he saw the elephant of Henry III in the Tower of London.

Dies Natalis Sancti Ædwardi

Here Edward king,

of Angles lord,

sent his stedfast

soul to Christ.

In the kingdom of God

a holy spirit!

- Entry in the Anglo-Saxon Chronicle for the year 1065, Whitelock, Dorothy, David, Douglas C., Tucker, Susie, I. (eds.), The Anglo-Saxon Chronicle: A Revised Translation, Eyre and Spottiswoode, 1962

On this day, the eve of the Epiphany, in 1066 Edward king of England died in sickbed only a few days after he had witnessed the consecration of Westminster Abbey. Edward died childless and was succeeded by Harold Godwinson, and he was revered by the new Norman overlords as a good and pious king. In 1161 he was canonised by Pope Alexander III and became known as Edward the Confessor. The cult was centred at Westminster and was initially embraced by King Henry II, who orchestrated the moving of his relics to a new tomb on October 13 1163. On this occasion, Henry was presented with a new vita of the Confessor, written by Aelred of Rievaulx, and this became the primary source for all subsequent renditions of Edward's life. In this blogpost, I aim to present an overview of this feast in liturgical sources from the High Middle Ages.

Edward the Confessor carrying book and sceptre

MS. Royal 20 A II, historical miscellany from England, c.1307-27

Courtesy of British library

When Edward's cult was established in 1161, there was only one celebration for the ministrants of Westminster Abbey, namely his dies natalis, January 5. The dies natalis meant the heavenly birthday of the saint, the day when, through dying, he or she entered the registers of the saint and was born into holiness. In the beginning of any cult, this day is the most important feast day, and so it was for Edward the Confessor up until the mid-13th century.

Despite Henry II's initial enthusiasm for Edward the Confessor's cult, it appears he never achieved any widespread popularity in England, and when Thomas Becket was canonised in 1173 the late archbishop's cult gained an overshadowing prominence in the realm. Becket's feastday was December 29 and thus his octave fell on the eve of Epihany, January 5, and in churches where Becket was the more important saint of the two, it is probable that Edward the Confessor was not celebrated with a complete office, but rather included in a minor memorial service.

Shrine of Edward the Confessor at Westminster

MS. Egerton 3028, Roman de Brut with continuation, England, 2nd quarter of 14th century

Courtesy of British Library

We have today very little liturgical material left from the repertoire of Edward the Confessor. In my MA work I have been able to date one text snippet to the timeframe 1161-66, and this text is a part of an office material that most likely was performed on January 5 at Westminster. The text in question is a responsory referred to by Aelred of Rievaulx in a sermon for January 5, held sometime in the aforementioned timeframe. Today, this responsory survives only in MS. Rawlinson liturg. g. 10 (c.1400), and its only translation into English can be found in my MA thesis and below. A responsory is a liturgical item that follows a reading, such as a lection in an office, and responds to the theme of the preceding text.


Responsum: Edwardus domino se vidit esse ditatum.
repetenda: A primis annis studuit vitare reatum.
Verse: Omnia contemnens que carni dant famulatum.
repetenda: A primis annis studuit vitare reatum.

R. Edward saw himself enriched by the Lord.
[r.] And from his earliest years on strove to avoid sin.
V. Avoiding all that could subject him to the flesh.
[r.] And from his earliest years on strove to avoid sin.

Material for Edward's dies natalis can also be found in a few liturgical books that do not follow the Westminster Use, i.e. liturgical formulae of Westminster and its related houses. Two of these antiphonaries are from the early 13th century (one from the Sarum Use, one from the Worcester Use), and what is more interesting is that they both only have material for October 13, not January 5. I don't know why this is, but I allow myself to speculate that this might be a consequence of the veneration of Thomas Becket's octave. Edward's lack of popularity around 1220, when these books were put together, can be seen in by Archbishop Stephen Langton's plea to Pope Gregory IX that he must command the English clergy to improve their veneration of the Confessor. The pope issued a bull to this effect in 1227.

Another interesting detail, however, is that a 14th-century antiphoner from Aberystwyth, following the Sarum Use, does indeed contain material for January 5. Why this is, I don't know, but it is interesting to note that a Westminster Missal finished prior to 1386 under the auspices of Abbot Lytlyngton, where January 5 is the most important feast, holding the same rank as Christmas.

The translation of Edward the Confessor

MS. Ee.3.59, La estoire de seint aedward le rei, 13th century

Courtesy of Cambridge Digital Library

By the middle of the 13th century Edward's long-suffering popularity received a boost from Henry III who embraced Edward as his particular saint, and who refurbished Westminster in his honour and had his corpse translated once more on October 13 1169. It is possible that Henry III saw a greater royal symbolism in the translatio, owing perhaps to the fact that it was Henry II who had overseen the translation of 1163, and this became now the most important feast, replacing January 5, the aforementioned importance of this date in the Lytlyngton Missal notwithstanding.

The final result of Henry III's initiated refurbishment of Westminster

Bibliography

Carpenter, D. A., "King Henry III and Saint Edward the Confessor: the Origins of the Cult", printed in English Historical Review, Vol. CXXII, No. 498, Oxford University Press, 2007

Hope, Steffen, The King's Three Images - the representation of Edward the Confessor in historiography, hagiography and liturgy, Trondheim, 2012

Legg, John Wickham, Missale ad usum Ecclesie Westmonasteriensis, Henry Bradshaw Society, London, 1891 (Vol. I), 1893 (Vol. II) and 1897 (Vol. III)

Luard, Henry Richard (ed.), Flores Historiarum, London, 1890

Raciti, Gaetano, Aelredi Rievallensis Sermones LXXXV-CLXXXII, Corpus Christianorum Continu-atio Medievalis IIC, Brepols Publishers, 2012 Vol. 4

Edward the Confessor in the North

Ever since completing my MA thesis I have had a potentially unhealthy obsession with Edward the Confessor. This is why I tend to use him as a point of reference when exploring the medieval catalogue of saints, and this is also why I keep a lookout for his iconography, and I'm always excited to learn of new images and new renditions of him. For this reason I was very happy to find a stained glass window in York, which to my mind most likely depicted Edward the Confessor, and this blogpost gives an introduction to Edward's standing in the North.

The above stained glass can be found in St. Helen's Church, York, and dates to the later Middle Ages. The church is situated in the centre of York and was the parish church of glass-painters who resided in Stonegate, and their emblem can be found among the extant stained glass paintings.

The window portraying Edward the Confessor is placed in a group comprised of - from left to right - William of York, the Virgin Mary and St. Helen. Edward is the rightmost figure, and as seen above he holds an object which looks like the ring he reportedly received from John the Baptist, and which was one of his major attributes in medieval renditions of him. The story was told by Aelred of Rievaulx and gained immense popularity. In the information leaflet provided in the church, it is suggested that this figure is Emperor Constantine, but this is highly unlikely since he was not considered a saint in medieval times - at least not officially. In a book on stained glass in York which I stupidly forgot to note, but which can be bought at Waterstones in the city, it is stated that the glass does indeed depict the Confessor, though no evidence is cited for this. I, however, believe this to be the only likely explanation for iconographic reasons.

William of York (d.1154, can.1227)

Virgin Mary

Interestingly, this painting situated below that of the Virgin Mary, may also depict the Confessor, possibly together with St. John the Evangelist, to whom Edward was especially devoted

St. Helen

After this find I went to visit York Minster's undercroft where I happened to note a roof painting from the York Minster chapter house depicting St. Edmund of East Anglia. The painting in question dated from c.1290. I was quite excited to see this, since I have a major fascination for the cult of St. Edmund as well as that of St. Edward, and these two saints often appear together in later medieval art (and also sometimes in literature). This was the second depiction of St. Edmund I had found in York, the first being a carving from St. Mary's Abbey, which was refurbished in the 13th century. The figure can be found at Yorkshire Museum together with St. Cuthbert.

Edmund holding his arrows

Cuthbert, holding the head of St. Oswald

After having found St. Edmund, I went to ask one of the curators whether there were any depictions of Edward the Confessor in the Minster, and he told me there was none to be found to my initial surprise, seeing as the Confessor had in his time been generously munificient towards the Minster. The curator was wrong, however, as there is a 14th-century depiction of Edward in the lady chapel, but this I learned later. As I talked about the subject with the curator, however, I remembered a few important details from my MA research which made it all abundantly clear why Edward should ostensibly - yet incorrectly - not be present in the York Minster art programme.

St. Edmund and his arrows, painting from York Minster's chapter house, c.1290

Edward's lack of widespread support in the North is a result of the long-standing conflict between the North and the South, and in particular between the Archbishopric of York and the Archbishopric of Canterbury, at that time locked in a continuous squabble over whose archbishop was the primate of England.

This division in the English medieval church runs deep, and when Osbert of Clare failed in his petition to have Edward canonised by the Papacy around 1138, lack of wide ecclesiastical support was probably one of the main reasons why he failed, together with King Stephen's meddling in the Church's affairs. After the Anarchy, however, Alexander III granted the request for canonisation due to the wide clerical support Osbert that had been lacking earlier, and the 12 surviving petition letters do indeed represent a wide clerical spectrum, including the Archbishop of York. However, this unity proved deceptive and when Edward the Confessor was translated to a new tomb at Westminster on October 13 1163, only the diocese of Canterbury was represented.

The lack of devotional paraphernalia pertaining to Edward the Confessor in York suggests that this strife between the two archbishoprics were long-standing and that to the northerners, Edward the Confessor remained a southern saint. It should also be noted, however, that Edward never achieved any wide popularity beyond Westminster and the royal court, so this is not very surprising after all. However, not even Henry III's presence in York - he refurbished Clifford's Tower as his royal manor - was sufficient to move York towards greater appreciation of Edward, and instead the citizens and the clergy focussed on local saints and, as it seems, St. Edmund, whose fame rivalled that of Edward for most of the 12th and 13th centuries in the country at large. Interestingly, this goes contrary to the claim made in the liturgy for Edward the Confessor, composed at Westminster in the 12th century, where it is stated that the entire country rejoices in his sanctity.

I do not know who commissioned the stained glass windows of St. Helen's and York Minster's lady chapel, or what moved the former to place Edward alongside an important local saint such as William of York. Nonetheless, this is an interesting anomaly in York's devotional landscape, and it shows the disparity between the overarching devotional trends and personal preference.

It is of course important to note that absence of evidence is not evidence of absence, and it may be that Edward had a more prominent role among York's medieval citizenry than has been known or is suggested by the surviving material. Yet ecclesio-political considerations suggest that there is not much to find in this department, and it is perhaps emblematic that the only church around York dedicated to Edward that I know of, is the 19th-century church at Dringhouses.

Bibliography

Dutton, Marsha (ed.) and Freeland, Jane Patricia (transl.), Aelred of Rievaulx: The Historical Works, Cistercian Publications Inc., 2005

Farmer, David, Oxford Dictionary of Saints, Oxford, 2004

Hope, Steffen, The King's Three Images - The representation of St. Edward the Confessor in historiography, hagiography and liturgy, Trondheim, 2012

Rex, Peter, King & Saint: The Life of Edward the Confessor, The History Press Ltd, 2008

Scholz, Bernhard W., "The Canonization of Edward the Confessor", printed in Speculum, Vol. 36, No. 1, 1961

Williamson, E. W. (ed.), The Letters of Osbert of Clare Prior of Westminster, Oxford University Press, 1998

Edward the Confessor at Lyddington

Edward the Confessor features in a wide range of medieval texts encompassing the categories historiography, hagiography and liturgy. Also when it comes to art, the depictions of the Confessor are highly varied and present an interesting repository for how he was imagined in medieval times. It is, however, not quite as substantial as his literary legacy, nor has it survived equally well. This repository includes his personal sigil, the Bayeux tapestry, Abbot Richard Barkyng's hangings in Westminster Abbey (mid-13th-century), a stained glass series in Fécamp Abbey Church (early 14th century), the Wilton Diptych (1390s), a selection of manuscript illuminations from the mid-11th century onwards and a few odd pieces here and there whose fulness has yet to be established.

I was very kindly notified of one of these odd pieces by Margaret Hiley, who proofread my MA thesis back in the days, and I was immediately thrilled to learn of it. The oddity in question is a mural ostensibly depicting Edward the Confessor in St. Andrew's Church, Lyddington in Rutland, and it presumably dates from the 14th century as this is the date of the oldest sections of the church. We do not know for certain that it is Edward adorning the wall at Lyddington, but as the church was given to the jurisdiction of Westminster by Edward himself, it seems a plausible conjecture. In this blogpost I aim to see how well the conjecture holds up by looking closely at the few details available, and comparing this mural with other 14th-century depictions.

Image taken from this website. A better picture may be found here.

Historical background

Before embarking on a detailed investigation of the mural, it may be proper to give a brief account of Edward's general standing in 14th-century England. After Henry III, Edward's most enthusiastic devotee, there was a shift in devotional focus for the kings of England. Henry's son, King Edward I, showed his namesake saint due veneration and placed spoils from the Scottish campaign at the saint-king's tomb, but towards the end of the 13th-century the royal family became more interested in the cult of Thomas Becket. In addition, Edward hailed the legendary Arthur as a saint in order to bereave the Welsh of their hope of Arthur's return, although how much this affected his pious observances can not be stated with great certainty.

With the militant reign of Edward III there came an upsurge in devotion towards St. George, who eventually was pronounced the patron saint of England in 1351. In 1381, however, King Richard II embraced the cult of Edward and his veneration appears to have resulted in a widespread improvement in Edward's standing in the realm - at least among the upper echelons - and both Langland and Chaucer make references to St. Edward in their works. The historian Jean Froissart stated that Edward was generally venerated throughout all England, and particularly in Ireland. He further claims that Richard's veneration was a way of placating the Irish, but neither of these claims can be corroborated. It was Richard's enthusiasm which resulted in the Wilton Diptych in the mid-90s, which can be seen below.

In other words, it is not unlikely that the mural in question may be a rendition of Edward the Confessor given the historical circumstance. We must now turn to the details of the work for further investigation.

Image taken from this website. 

Clothing

As we see from the images above, the man in the mural wears a reddish robe and an ermine-coated cape, both very expensive accoutrements. In art, expensive and fine clothing is of course a very effective way to convey high standing in society, and it is very likely that this depicts some royal saint. Another piece of evidence to suggest this is the fact that he wears gloves, possibly hunting gloves, which clearly demarcates a man of the upper echelons.

In the literature pertaining to Edward the Confessor, he is often portrayed as a man of fine clothing. In the first biography of the king, Vita Ædwardi qui apud Westmonasteriam recquiescit (1065-75), it is stated that Edward's wife Edith was very skilled with the needle and made him beautiful and richly adorned clothes, which he wore without pride. Edward's clothing becomes a way for the author, of whom little is known beyond his Flemish origins, to emphasise the disparity between the outer and the inward man: despite his regal appearance, Edward was a humble man on the inside who valued the law of God above all other things. This is a common topos in the depiction of medieval kings, and royal saints were usually portrayed in rich clothing. In 14th century painting, however, Edward appears to be dressed in more sumptuous clothes than previously were the case, as we can see both in the Lyddington Mural and the Wilton Diptych below. Whether this was a consistent trend we can not say given the scant evidence, but both the mural and the diptych are very different from illuminations of the same century.

The gloves are another issue. As we see in the picture above, Edward of the Wilton Diptych has bare hands. The gloves may suggest hunting, which of course was a popular pastime among royals, and one which was stated to be Edward's favourite - second to praying - in Vita Ædwardi and, drawing on this biography, in William of Malmebury's Gesta Regum Anglorum (1120s). However, in the mid-12th century John of Salisbury spoke very harshly of hunting as a pastime unfit for Christians, and this view - which appears to have been common in clerical circles - can be seen reflected in the more sedate renditions of Edward in the hagiographies. Whether John of Salisbury's condemnation carried any weight into the 14th century I do not know. Nor do I know how widespread this view was. In other words, although St Edward traditionally - as a saint - was not depicted as a huntsman, this is no impediment to the possibility of such a depiction in the 14th century.

 The Wilton Diptych

Appearance

The face of the mural is to a great extent worn away, but we see outlines suggesting a bearded face. From 11th century and onwards Edward the Confessor has been described as a man of perpetual old age, having white beard at a time when he was only about thirty or forty. This is again a common topos of medieval literature, and a similar case can be seen in the depiction of Charlemagne in The Song of Roland. White beard conveyed the wisdom of old age, and emphasised the prophetic abilities of Edward the Confessor. Furthermore, in the mid-12th century, the swan-white beard - which was said to be as beautiful in the grave as in life - became a symbol of Edward's virginity, another of his prime characteristics. As we see in the Wilton Diptych, this was retained in the 14th century.

Accessories

From what remains of the mural there are two items of royal paraphernalia suggested by the heavily worn outlines. In his left hand the saint-king is holding what appears to be some circular object, possibly the royal orb or the ring he allegedly received from John the Baptist - his particular saint according to hagiography - which can also be seen in the Wilton Diptych.

The other item appears to be a sword, suggested by the yellow-golden hilt at the figure's left flank. This is the most unusual aspect of this mural in the traditional depictions of Edward the Confessor, as this is the only representation I've come across where the saint-king is armed. In the catalogue of artistic portrayals, the sceptre, the orb and the crown are all common items and emphasising the peaceful aspect of monarchy for which Edward was famous. The sword is, in other words, unprecedented, and this may be due to its 14th-century provenance, which, as we have seen, was a period when martial saints were more popular - and more expedient, if we can talk so cynically about religion - than a solomonic peacemaker like Edward.

The Emblem

The final aspect of this investigation is slightly tenuous, but it is crucial to the matter at hand. Just beside the hilt of the saint's sword we can see what appears to be the pattern of the cape. It is impossible to make out the pattern properly, but from the pictures it looks very much like the cape is coloured in gold and azure. If this indeed is the case, there is a strong possibility that the cape is decorated with the arms of Edward the Confessor - invented long after he had passed away - which were adopted into the arms of Richard II sometime in the 1390s. The arms of Edward the Confessor, as seen below, is a golden cross surrounded by five golden martlets on an azure background, strongly reminiscent of the palate seen in the cape at Lyddington. If this really is the case - which may never be subject to certainty - it can be proved beyond reasonable doubt that this really is a representation of Edward the Confessor.

Conclusion

To sum up, there are several pieces of evidence which suggest the mural depicts Edward the Confessor. It fits with the traditional representations of him in both art and literature, although some aspects are unusual, but that definitive proof mentioned at the end is still solely a matter of conjecture. Nonetheless, I feel comfortable including this mural in the existing canon of medieval portrayals, and if it really is the case, the art history pertaining to the Confessor has been more diverse than hitherto believed. Now it only remains for me to visit St Andrew's, Lyddington and behold this mural with my own blue eyes.



Literature

Barlow, Frank, The Life of King Edward the Confessor, Clarendon Press, 1992

Berners, Sir John Bourchier Lord (transl.), The Chronicle of Froissart, AMS Press, Inc., 1967

Binski, Paul, "Abbot Berkyng's Tapestries and Matthew Paris's Life of St Edward the Confessor", printed in Archaeologia or Miscellaneous Tracts relating to Antiquity published by the Society of Antiquaries of London, Vol. CIX, Devonshire Press, Torqay, 1991

Binski, Paul, Westminster Abbey and the Plantagenets: kingship and the representation of power, 1200-1400, Yale University Press, New Haven, 1995

Campbell, Marian, "White Harts and Coronets: The Jewellery and Plate of Richard II", printed in Gordon, Dillian, Monnas, Lisa and Elam, Caroline, The Regal Image of Richard II and the Wilton Diptych, Harvey Miller Publishers, London, 1997

Harrison, Madeline, "A Life of St. Edward the Confessor in Early Fourteenth-Century Stained Glass at Fecamp, in Normandy", printed in Journal of the Warburg and Courtauld Institutes, Vol. 26, no. 1/2, 1963

Hector, L. C., and Harvey, Barbara F. (eds. and transl.), The Westminster Chronicle 1391-1394, Clarendon Press, Oxford, 1983

Lewis, Katherine, "Becoming a Virgin King: Richard II and Edward the Confessor ", printed in Riches, Samantha J. E. and Salih, Sarah (eds.), Gender and Holiness - Men, women and saints in late medieval Europe, Routledge, 2002 Luscombe, David, ‘Salisbury, John of (late 1110s–1180)’, Oxford Dictionary of National Bi-ography, Oxford University Press, 2004; online edn, May 2011

Mitchell, Shelagh, "Richard II: Kingship and the Cult of Saints", printed in Gordon, Dillian, Monnas, Lisa and Elam, Caroline, The Regal Image of Richard II and the Wilton Diptych, Harvey Miller Pub-lishers, London, 1997

Mynors, R. A. B., Thomson, R. M., Winterbottom, M., William of Malmesbury: Gesta Regum Anglorum, The History of the English Kings, Clarendon Press, 1998

Riches, Samantha, St George - Hero, Martyr and Myth, Sutton Publishing, Stroud, 2000

Saul, Nigel, Richard II, Yale University Press, New Haven, 1997