Promoting the King’s brand: imagery and application of decorative inlaid floor tiles in the court of Henry III

Francis Ferrone

Supervisor: Dr. Angus Stewart This thesis is submitted in partial fulfilment for the degree of

M.A. Honours in the School of History, University of St Andrews 8 January, 2016

2

I, Francis Ferrone, attest that this dissertation, for submission to the School of History, University of St Andrews, is entirely my own work. It contains exactly 9,979 words.

4 January, 2016

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Table of Contents

List of Abbreviations………………………………..4 Introduction…………………..……………...………5—7 Chapter I: The Evidence………………………….…8—10 Chapter II: Setting the Scene……………………….11—13 Chapter III: The King’s Brand……………………...14—28 Chapter IV: Adapting the Brand……………...……29—37 Conclusion……………………………………...….…38—39 Appendix……………………………………...…........40—56 Bibliography………………………………….…...…..57—59 Acknowledgements………………………………..…60

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List of Abbreviations

C.M.T…………. E. Eames, Catalogue of Medieval Lead-Glazed Earthenware Tiles in the Department of

Medieval and Later Antiquities British Museum, vols. 1-2 (London, 1980).

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Introduction

“Throughout history there have been princes for whom architecture and the decorative arts

have been an expression—in some cases almost an instrument—of political power…There

have been others for whom patronage of the arts was rather a substitute for the authority

which forever eluded their grasp. Henry III belonged to the latter rather than to the former

category…”1

Thus concludes H.M. Colvin in The History of the King’s Work, his seminal work of 1963. For

Colvin, the extravagant building and art campaign of one of England’s longest-reigning

monarchs was a façade to mask an otherwise incompetent ruler. In fact, the reign of Henry

III (1216-72) is often characterized as being riddled with diplomatic shortcomings that

culminated in the barons’ rebellion in 1258 and the general feeling amongst contemporaries

that he was ‘useless and insufficient to dispose the affairs of the kingdom.’2 Although this

characterization may be accurate, the ideological importance of the King’s artistic

commissions—specifically decorative floor tiles—is worthy of consideration. In particular,

this paper explores the possibility that Henry purposefully used decorative floor tiles to

promote his ideological values in an attempt to foster loyalty and support among his

subjects, much like modern day propaganda and marketing are used to create brand loyalty.

Central to this notion that Henry attempted to build loyalty via decorative floor tiles is the

series of pavements he commissioned for his palaces and administrative centres in the

middle decades of his reign. This was a time of increasing political tension amongst the

various factions at court, one in which ‘fitting in’ on the social spectrum was paramount.

1 H. Colvin, The History of the King’s Works, vol. 1 (London, 1963), p. 109. 2 Annales monastici, as stated in D. Carpenter, ‘King, Magnates, and Society: The Personal Rule of King Henry III, 1234-1258’, in Speculum, vol. 60 (1985), p. 39.

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For Henry, maintaining political stability required the loyalty and support of his magnates—

both Englishmen and foreigners alike. Generating solidarity and loyalty among disparate

factions would have required an image that conveyed a common purpose to which all could

pledge their loyalty. It is conceivable, therefore, that Henry purposely developed a form of

visual expression designed to resonate with members of his court while simultaneously

reinforcing his personal values and ideals—i.e., courtly branding.

In an attempt to validate this premise, this paper will identify and explain the major

branding themes embedded in the tile pavements commissioned during Henry’s reign, and

demonstrate how these themes were communicated to their audience. Additionally, this

paper will offer preliminary conclusions as to why particular themes were chosen for their

respective locations in support of the king’s brand building effort. The combination of

themes, context, and locations related to tile pavements reveals that Henry attempted to

create an all-encompassing courtly brand using a versatile yet easily recognizable series of

visual symbols reminiscent of the English monarchy that engaged the people and fostered

an affinity for the values conveyed by the imagery.

This paper is divided into four chapters. Chapter One introduces the evidence and

identifies the numerous challenges that tile pavements pose to the archaeologist and

historian alike. Chapter Two outlines the socio-political context in which these decorative

pavements were originally seen. Chapter Three explores the initial phase in which Henry

introduced his courtly brand, analysing a series of four tile pavements from the 1240s and

1250s that demonstrate how the imagery revolved largely around familiar heraldic motifs

whose selection and application were context-specific. Like any promotional campaign,

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however, the motifs and visual strategies employed early on did not remain static and were

gradually adapted to retain the interest of viewers. The fourth and final chapter, therefore,

discusses the more advanced aspects of Henry’s brand building campaign, namely, how

narrative techniques and popular interests were incorporated within these pavements to

help articulate the king’s ideology.

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Chapter 1: The Evidence

This study takes an archaeological approach. Thus the majority of analysis and discussion

centres on the material evidence—namely, the floor tiles themselves. When appropriate, the

author’s own observations are incorporated to provide new insight regarding the imagery

and possible meaning embedded within their surface designs. Financial accounts and other

textual sources, though limited, are also used to help place these tiles in their proper

historical context.

A brief overview of the material evidence is necessary to establish the research parameters

and to help identify the various challenges inherent when working with inlaid tiles. Like

stained glass windows, tiles were a creation characteristic of the medieval period without

any precedent in antiquity.3 They were created by using a wooden stamp to make an

impression on the surface of a clay tablet, which was subsequently backfilled with clay of

contrasting colour before the entire unit was glazed and fired. The resulting patterns range

from architectural and geometrical designs, heraldic bearings, real and grotesque animals,

letters and inscriptions, sacred symbols, romantic subjects, and both royal and ecclesiastical

portraits. The choice and arrangement of these motifs in relation to their physical

surroundings is significant, for, unlike stained glass and other decorative art forms, floor

tiles are tangible, capable of being tread upon and thus, to a certain degree, physically

experienced. As historical sources, they are invaluable not only for their thematic content,

but also for gaining insight as to how the patron wished to communicate specific themes to a

particular audience.

3 J. Cherry, ‘Tiles’ in J. Alexander and P. Binski. (eds.), Age of Chivalry: Art in Plantagenet England 1200- 1400 (London, 1987), p. 181.

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Despite the wealth of information which inlaid tiles reveal about the society in which they

were a part, the challenges they pose to archaeologists are numerous. Most obviously, the

very nature of their display upon the floor makes them susceptible to wear and replacement.

At many locations the provenance of individual tiles is an issue and the exact date of

manufacture remains unknown. Likewise, vandalism and theft over the centuries have been

a hindrance to this field of study, an aspect felt especially at sites such as Clarendon Palace,

Wiltshire.

While the careful recording and documentation of the surviving archaeological evidence has

made these tiles widely available for study, textual sources pertaining to their manufacture,

use and interpretation are by comparison extremely rare. In fact, when it comes to royal

commissions for tile pavements there is a distinct silence in the Liberate Rolls and other

financial accounts from Henry III who was otherwise quite vocal on matters of artistic

patronage. Indeed, Henry’s writs are almost unique in the precision with which they record

the king’s demands and the urgency with which he ordered their execution.4 In 1244, for

example, the keeper of the works at Westminster was given six weeks in which to finish a

chamber there, ‘even if a thousand workmen are required every day.’5 It is therefore curious

that the king should be so laconic with regards to these floor pavements, especially

considering their high visibility and potential to serve as royal propaganda. The matter is

further complicated by the fact that it is impossible to know the names of the artists who

designed the decorative patterns used in the king’s pavements. While they may have been

4 Colvin, The King’s Works, p. 94. 5 Close Rolls, 1242-7, as stated in Colvin, The King’s Works, p. 95.

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any one of Henry’s reputed painters there is no evidence to confirm this.6 Moreover, there

are no surviving records to indicate how contemporaries interpreted and reacted to these

pavements, nor how effective they were at achieving visual impact. As a result, our own

understanding of these tiles must remain speculative and grounded in circumstantial

evidence.

Obtaining access to the necessary tiles for this project was challenging due to time

constraints and the accessibility of the sources themselves, many of which are stored in the

British Museum, London. All visual analysis is based, therefore, on detailed photographs

and artistic reproductions from secondary sources. An invaluable source of tile images is

the Catalogue of Medieval Tiles, edited by Elizabeth Eames in 1980.7

Finally, this study is limited in scope to the royal tile pavements in England during the

middle years of Henry III’s reign up to the barons’ rebellion of 1258. It does not provide in-

depth discussion as to contemporary developments on the continent, a topic for which the

reader is advised to consult the work of Christopher Norton.8

6 E. Eames, Medieval Tiles – A Handbook (London, 1968), p. 60. 7 E. Eames, Catalogue of Medieval Lead-Glazed Earthenware Tiles in the Department of Medieval and Later Antiquities British Museum, vols. 1-2 (London, 1980), p. 282. Henceforth abbreviated as C.M.T. 8 C. Norton, ‘Thirteenth-century Tile Pavements in Anjou’ in The British Archaeological Association Conference Transactions, vol. 26 (2003), p. 224.

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Chapter 2: Setting the Scene

Henry III’s marriage to Eleanor of Provence in 1236 had a major socio-political impact on the

English court and it was within this changing atmosphere that Henry used inlaid tiles to

develop a brand identity that would convey his ideals and help shape his courtly culture.

Queen Eleanor had brought with her a retinue of fellow kinsmen from Savoy who sought to

benefit from the Henry’s eagerness to cultivate alliances on the continent by rewarding

foreigners who settled in the realm.9 Henry made Eleanor’s uncle William of Savoy his chief

councillor (until his death in 1239). Likewise, in 1241 Peter of Savoy was made lord of the

great honour of Richmond, while in 1244 Boniface was appointed archbishop of Canterbury.

In total no fewer than 170 Savoyards visited England, about seventy settled, and the rest

returned to the continent loaded with pensions.10 Undeniably, the House of Savoy received

spectacular patronage from Henry during these years.

In 1247 a second wave of foreigners arrived in England from the region of Poitou. This was a

smaller group than the Savoyards and it has been estimated that they probably numbered

about a hundred, of whom about half settled in England.11 Amongst this group were

Henry’s four half-brothers, William de Valence, Aymer, Geoffrey and Guy de Lusignan.

Henry made no secret of his warmth towards his fellow kinsmen, and upon their arrival the

flow of patronage was swiftly diverted in their direction. While on campaign in February

1254, for example, the king found time to write from Gascony solely to remind the regents in

9 H. Ridgeway, ‘King Henry III and the “Aliens”, 1236-1272’, in P. Cross and S. Lloyds (eds.), Thirteenth Century England II: Proceedings of the Newcastle Upon Tyne Conference, 1987 (Woodbridge, 1988), p. 87. 10 M. Prestwich, Plantagenet England, 1225-1360 (Oxford, 2005), p. 93. 11 Ibid., p. 94.

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England of William de Valences’ claims.12 In binding his own family to him through

patronage, Henry hoped to maintain his foothold in Poitou and protect the northern

frontiers of Gascony.

The extent of royal favour bestowed on the king’s half-brothers and their associates

undoubtedly embittered court politics from the late 1240s and explains the xenophobic tones

of contemporary English chroniclers such as Matthew Paris.13 It seems unlikely, however,

that it was Henry’s aim to establish a court dominated solely by Savoyards and Poitevins

from which English magnates were excluded. On the contrary, Henry hoped to create a

harmonious court in which both native barons and his foreign relations could flourish, an

aspiration that is suggested by his various artistic commissions. In 1243, for example, the

king is said to have ordered for the great hall of Dublin castle a painting of a ‘king and

queen sitting with their baronage.’14 Furthermore, young and ambitious English nobles such

as Hugh Bigod and Richard de Clare certainly attained prominent positions in the king’s

council, and it is commonly held that Henry depended on the loyalty and loans of his

wealthy younger brother Richard, earl of Cornwall.15 As such, the native English barons

were by no means excluded by the king.

Despite his efforts to create a unified court, Henry’s attempt at political cohesion ultimately

failed. In addition to English hostility towards the foreigners, the situation was intensified

12 Close Rolls, 1253-4, as stated in H. Ridgeway, ‘Foreign Favorites and Henry III’s Problems of Patronage, 1247-1258’ in The English Historical Review, vol. 104 (1989), p. 595. 13 Matthew Paris, Chronica Majora, as stated in M. Clanchy, ‘Did Henry III have a Policy?’ in History, vol. 53 (1968), p. 214. 14 D. Carpenter, ‘King, Magnates, and Society’, p. 55. 15 Ibid., p. 50.

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by the rivalry between the Savoyards and Poitevins who were competing for royal

patronage. This rivalry stemmed, in part, from the fact that by the time the Poitevins arrived

in 1247 Henry no longer had a large stock of land on which he could freely draw, so much of

it having been confiscated upon the loss of Normandy in 1244.16 Henry could still bestow

money while it lasted, but it was land the foreigners desired, and for that he was dependent

on the chancery flow into his hands of escheats, wardships and marriage-rights. The

immediate problem, it seems, is that these were far less plentiful in the 1250s than they had

been a decade earlier when the Savoyards were establishing themselves through their ties

with the queen. It was this shortage of land and the gradual deterioration of royal finances

during the 1250s that largely contributed to the mounting political tension at court.

Coincidentally, it was also during this time that a series of decorative floor pavements

appear at various sites associated with the crown. In what follows it will be argued that

these commissions were a direct attempt by Henry to instil a mode of imagery

representative of the king’s values, a familiar brand that would provide a sense of stability

and confirm Henry’s role as king within an increasingly agitated court.

16 Ridgeway, ‘King Henry III’, p. 45.

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Chapter 3: The King’s Brand

For Henry, the first step to establishing his brand imagery was to connect with his

contemporaries through imagery which they could understand and relate to. This involved

the tradition of heraldry, defined here as the hereditary use of an arrangement of emblems

on a shield to identify an individual, a family or a community.17 Since its emergence in the

mid-twelfth century, heraldry had quickly become established across Europe and by the

reign of Henry III was being applied for both decorative and ideological purposes. While

some scholars have downplayed the importance of heraldic imagery in the wall-paintings of

Henry’s palaces and castles, this claim is based on the premise that none of the murals

survive, leaving us only with brief descriptions from the royal writs.18 These rarely mention

heraldic imagery, ordering instead themes derived from the Scriptures or from the legends

of the saints. The parable of Dives and Lazarus, for example, was given a place of honour in

the king’s hall at Ludgershall, Northampton and Guildford, while the king’s patron saint,

Edward the Confessor, was allegedly painted on the walls at multiple royal sites.19

Despite this apparent lack of interest towards heraldry in the royal writs, however, there are

numerous examples in which the English king intentionally imbued his residences with

heraldic devices. As early as 1240 Henry commissioned the royal arms to be painted on the

window-shutters of his great chamber in the Tower of London, and again in 1266 on all the

doors and shutters of his hall and chamber at Winchester Castle.20 Clearly, heraldry

17 S. Oliver, Introduction to heraldry (London, 1987), p. 11. 18 T. Borenius, ‘The Cycle of Images in the Palaces and Castles of Henry III’ in Journal of the Warburg and Courtauld Institutes, vol. 6 (1943), p. 45. 19 Ibid., p. 41. 20 Calendar of Liberate Rolls 1226-40, as stated in Colvin, The King’s Works, p. 861.

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associated with the king was being incorporated in royal domestic settings both before and

after the political upheaval of 1258.

While the display of heraldic imagery at the king’s major administrative centres might be

expected, its application in other artistic mediums reveals a widespread familiarity amongst

the king’s constituents. Adrian Ailes has gone so far as to argue that the mid-thirteenth

century witnessed the first attempts to use heraldry to score political points within the court

by deliberately attempting to blacken the reputation of the opposition.21 This is illustrated in

the Trinity Apocalypse, an illuminated manuscript dated on stylistic grounds to about 1255-60

which contains an Armageddon scene in which the arms of the king are prominently

displayed against the forces of the Antichrist [fig. 1]. The enemy’s blazon is none other than

that of Simon de Montfort, earl of Leicester and prominent leader of the baronial reform

movement.22 Likewise, in the slightly later Douce Apocalypse, the inclusion of de Montfort’s

forked-tail lion amongst the Devil’s company of insurgents would have been only too

evident to the manuscript’s owner, Henry’s son and heir, the Lord Edward. These examples

leave little doubt that both Henry and his contemporaries were fully aware of the decorative

and ideological value of heraldry, and it is reasonable to suggest that these devices were

incorporated into the king’s pavements as part of his brand building campaign.

The integration of such imagery, however, was context-specific. In the mid-thirteenth

century inlaid tiles were a relatively new medium of artistic expression. To clearly articulate

his royal ideology on these pavements, Henry first required a strong sense of his own role as

21 A. Ailes, ‘Heraldry in Medieval England’ in P. Coss, P. and M. Keen (eds.) Heraldry, Pageantry and Social Display in Medieval England (Woodbridge, 2002), p. 97. 22 Ibid., p. 94.

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monarch. Whether he fully achieved this mentality is, of course, beyond the scope of this

paper. What concerns us at present is how Henry’s vision of kingship was made manifest in

a context that was removed from the public eye, a setting, it may be presumed, in which he

could engage with the imagery on a more personal level. This notion is best explored in the

first case study, a pavement dating from the mid-1240s from the royal hunting lodge of

Clarendon Palace, Wiltshire.

A) Clarendon Palace (King’s chapel)

Excavations in the 1930s at Clarendon Palace revealed a group of tiles scattered about the

ground of a ruinous structure which presumably housed the King’s private chapel on the

floor above.23 This is suggested by an entry in the Liberate Rolls dated 14 March, 1244, which

calls for ‘a pavement of tiles to be made in the king’s own (dominica) chapel…’24 Upon

reassembly, the tiles form a circular pavement composed of ten different bands of varying

sized tiles, each of which displays a different inlaid design [fig. 2].

Many of the tiles belonging to the circular chapel pavement show variations of the fleur-de-

lis, an emblem often found in abbey floors whose significance was, at the time, primarily

religious rather than heraldic. Indeed, the fleur-de-lis frequently features on the seals of

cathedrals dedicated to the Virgin Mary.25 The repetitive use of Marian imagery and the

marked absence of perhaps more secular motifs to decorate the king’s private chapel are not

altogether surprising considering the alleged piety and religious devotion which 23 E. Eames, ‘Further Notes on a Thirteenth-Century Tiled Pavement from the King’s Chapel, Clarendon Palace’ in Journal of British Archaeological Association vol. 35 (1972), p. 76. 24 E. Eames, ‘A Thirteenth-century tiles Pavement from the King’s Chapel, Clarendon Palace’ in Journal of the British Archaeological Association, vol. 26 (1963), p. 46. 25 P. Clayton, ‘The inlaid tiles of Westminster Abbey’ in Archaeological Journal, vol. 69 (1912), p. 50.

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contemporaries attribute to Henry. Matthew Paris informs us, for instance, that the king

heard Mass three times a day, a routine which, despite the chronicler’s notorious habit of

exaggeration, conveys an image of kingship deeply rooted in faith.26 Henry’s religious piety

is confirmed, in part, by the biblical and saintly images that decorated many of his wall-

paintings and glazed windows.

From an ideological perspective, the first known application of the fleur-de-lis as a heraldic

device appears on the reverse of the seal of King Philip Augustus of France in 1180.27

However, the lily motif itself is considerably older, stemming from a legend that recalls how

King Clovis received the fleur-de-lis at his baptism from an angel sent by God to distinguish

the Merovingian bloodline.28 One possible interpretation for the lavish use of such a deeply

symbolic motif in the king’s chapel, therefore, is that Henry was attempting to rekindle this

tradition by surrounding himself with imagery associated with divinely sanctioned

kingship.

While the incorporation of such imagery within his private chapel may have helped confirm

and even bolster Henry’s sense of identity as monarch, the relatively obscure location of the

chapel itself within the sprawling palatial complex would not have been conducive for

promoting a brand image. Rather, this pavement and the choice of imagery upon it should

be interpreted as a personalized commission reserved specifically for the king or, at most, a

close inner circle of subjects. It must also be noted that the fleur-de-lis does not officially

26 Matthew Paris, Chronica Majora, as stated in H. Colvin, The King’s Works, p. 124. 27 W. Lethaby, ‘English Primitives IV: The Westminster and Chertsey Tiles and Romance Paintings’ in The Burlington Magazine of Connoisseurs, vol. 30 (1917), p. 137. 28 Clayton, ‘Westminster Abbey’, p. 59.

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appear on the royal English coat of arms until Edmund of Lancaster, Henry’s second son,

married Blanche of Artois in 1275.29 As such, an ideological interpretation of the motif as

used in the king’s chapel may be inappropriate; it could very well be that its appearance in

1244 resulted from artistic developments further afield. Indeed, the practice of inlaid tiling

was introduced to England from Anjou and Poitou early in Henry’s reign, and it is widely

held that the king was personally responsible for the importation of the skilled artisans who

were working for him at Westminster and Clarendon from about 1237 onwards.30 One

source in particular that may serve as a model for the king’s chapel is the pavement at

Cunault Abbey in Maine-et-Loire, France, whose circular design and extensive use of the

fleur-de-lis are similar to that of Clarendon.31 Whether the layout and imagery at Clarendon

were based on contemporary French developments or an older tradition reminiscent of the

Merovingian dynasty, the pavement clearly served as a platform upon which Henry could

contemplate symbols that aligned with his royal ideology. How this ideology came into

contact with those whom he shared close proximity is explored in the second case study,

also from Clarendon Palace.

B) Clarendon Palace (Queen’s chamber)

Between 1250 and 1251, only a few years after the king’s chapel was finished, a second tile

pavement was commissioned for Clarendon Palace whose imagery is considerably different

from the king’s chapel. This section of tile paving was found in situ against the west wall of

the most northerly room in a range of buildings east of the king’s chapel identified as the

29 Lethaby, ‘English Primitives’, p. 138. 30 Colvin, The King’s Works, p. 126. 31 Eames, ‘Thirteenth-century tiles’, p. 43.

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Queen’s apartments [fig. 3a].32 What remains of this pavement consists of both plain and

decorated tiles, arranged in six panels running west to east across the room. In the two

southernmost panels are a series of tiles decorated with either a lion passant sinister or a

griffin dexter, each of which is placed within a circular frame complete with small, decorative

trefoils rising from the corners [figs. 3b, 3c].

Of particular importance in light of Henry’s attempts to promote a royal brand is the

treatment of the griffins and their relationship to the adjacent lions. Interestingly, griffins do

not receive much attention in surviving bestiaries and it is therefore difficult to know how

contemporaries interpreted them apart from their obvious associations with power (the

combination of lion and eagle, lords of land and air). Popular mythology, however,

maintains that in English heraldry only the female griffin has wings, its male counterpart

being adorned with feathery spikes all over its body.33 Coincidentally, the griffins depicted

on the queen’s pavement have bold, unfurled wings and, based on the above supposition,

are decidedly female. While this observation alone is no more than mere conjecture, the

notion that the artist or patron was attempting to distinguish between female griffins and

male lions is supported by the fact that the decorative circles around each of the griffins all

have small indents at the base of each trefoil, a detail lacking in the circles surrounding the

lions.

32 E. Eames, ‘The Royal Apartments at Clarendon Palace in the Reign of Henry III’ in Journal of British Archaeological Association, vol. 28 (1965), p. 67. 33 J. Vinycomb, Fictitious and symbolic creatures in art: with special reference to their use in British heraldry (London, 1906), p. 150.

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Attributing this technical detail to gender and identifying the griffins as ‘female’ is not

unreasonable if one associates these motifs with the queen and leaves the lion to its

traditional links with Angevin kingship. Such a distinction would align with the political

context in which the tiles were laid, namely, the tense relationship in the early 1250s

between Henry and Eleanor who were in disagreement over the issue of royal patronage for

their respective families. It is no accident, it seems, that the griffins and lions in the

pavement are positioned facing each other in a confrontational, head-on arrangement.

Could this be a deliberate manifestation of the conflict between the Poitevins, supported by

Henry, and Eleanor’s family from Savoy? If so, this pavement serves as an example of how

brand imagery was sensitive to contemporary social and political dynamics, responding in

particular to domestic conflicts involving the patron himself.

Of course, the inaccessibility of the queen’s pavement relative to the more public spaces in

the palace makes it uncertain if contemporaries were aware of such imagery. Indeed, the

griffins and lions are located within the innermost chamber of the queen’s apartments, well

away from the great hall. Further analysis of the excavated floor plan reveals that the only

entrance to this chamber is located in the southwest corner. Considering that the six bands

of tiles are laid in an east-west orientation, it becomes evident that the lions and griffins

would have appeared sideways to anyone entering the room—not a particularly effective

strategy if attempting to impress visitors. For whom, then, were these motifs intended?

It is possible that, similar to the king’s chapel, the queen’s pavement was not originally

commissioned to impress or entertain guests, but rather served to embody some of the most

intimate aspects of personal identity and power relations felt between the king and his

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queen. Nevertheless, it appears that some effort was devoted to the strategic display of

these motifs so that onlookers might readily identify and reflect upon them. This is

suggested by the fact that the lions and griffins are positioned in alternating rows of upside

down and right-side up. As far as can be seen, this pattern was repeated across the floor.

Thus, anyone milling about or pacing within the Queen’s chamber would see the images

quite clearly regardless of where they stood and the direction they faced. In this

arrangement one can appreciate how brand imagery was not only context-specific, but

might also reflect Henry’s relationship with his closest subjects and family members. The

extent to which these relationships were known to contemporaries is explored in a third case

study, this time from an ecclesiastical setting.

C) Winchester Cathedral (Lady Chapel)

Regardless of whether contemporaries frequently observed the king and queen’s private

pavements at Clarendon Palace, the potential of inlaid tiles to build up brand identity was

quickly realized and disseminated further afield. Tiles with similar motifs have been

discovered, for example, in the pavement of the Chapter House at Salisbury Cathedral,

although these were probably not manufactured until much later based on the fact that the

building itself was not completed until c.1284.34 A better case for the dissemination of the

king’s brand is a group of tiles dating to the early 1250s found outside the entrance of the

Lady Chapel at Winchester Cathedral, Hampshire. Based on similarities with other tiles in

the region, these are most likely the product of Winchester at Marwell, an episcopal manor

34 J. Wight, Mediaeval Floor Tiles (London, 1975), p. 17.

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which at the time was in the king’s possession because of a vacancy in the see.35 The

pavement itself is composed of twenty-five tiles arranged in a five by five square [fig. 4].

Each tile depicts either a lion or griffin surrounded by a decorative circular band with

trefoils in the corners.

Of particular interest is that, while the circular bands surrounding the lions are smooth and

contain no indents or blemishes, those surrounding the griffins have minor indents beneath

each trefoil. This treatment is identical to that used on the Queen’s tiles at Clarendon and

suggests that in both cases the artist was using a common vocabulary to differentiate

between the griffins and lions. Upon further analysis it appears that, similar to the queen’s

chamber at Clarendon, there exists at Winchester a certain degree of visual tension in which

the lions and griffins are set at odds with each other. For example, the sixteen outermost

tiles forming the border to the Winchester pavement all depict griffins that face to the left.

Conversely, the enclosed inner area of pavement contains only right-facing lions. Thus,

whereas at Clarendon the two motifs are shown facing-off in pairs, at Winchester the lions

are enclosed by a solid perimeter of griffins.

The single exception to this box-in-frame composition is the central tile in the second row

from the bottom. This tile also depicts a griffin, but unlike the perimeter tiles, it faces to the

right. This anomaly at first seems disruptive to the entire layout until it is recognized that

the griffin is shaped differently than its counterparts. Its wings, rather than appearing as

solid wedges, are divided into three vertical sections. There is also a noticeable difference in

35 C. Norton, ‘The Medieval Tile Pavements of Winchester Cathedral’ in J. Crook, (ed.) Winchester Cathedral, Nine Hundred Years, 1093–1993 (Chichester, 1993), pp. 172.

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both its skeletal structure and the curvature of its beak, which is considerably more aquiline

than any of the griffins found at Salisbury or Clarendon. Based on these stylistic differences

one may safely posit that this tile does not belong to the original pavement and is most likely

a later insertion to replace a missing tile from the central group of lions. While the box-and-

frame arrangement may seem oppressive on behalf of the griffins towards the lions, there is

something equally significant about the centrality of the lion tiles which push the griffins to

the periphery. If this composition is interpreted in the same manner as the patterns being

employed at Clarendon at roughly the same time, it would appear that power relations

between the king and queen was a prominent theme in Henry’s brand imagery, one in

which the king takes centre stage yet is noticeably restricted by the queen.

While the symbolism within the three aforementioned pavements at Clarendon and

Winchester must remain frustratingly obscure, it is evident that by the early 1250s basic

heraldic motifs had penetrated the innermost spaces of the royal residence and were being

promulgated further afield. Despite these attempts to establish a brand of tiles revolving

around familiar heraldic imagery, the absence of the complete royal arms in any of these

pavements is significant and suggests that heraldry in its fully developed form was not a

priority for the king at his more secluded and politically inactive sites. As such, the fourth

and final case study included in this chapter explores the opposite end of the spectrum, a

site of enormous political importance that features one of the most eminent displays of the

royal arms from this period.

24

D) Westminster Abbey (Chapter House)

Set apart from the other pavements in terms of both its high survival rate and overall

splendour is the illustrious pavement found in the Chapter House at Westminster Abbey.

The exact date of paving is unknown, although it can be safely said that the structure was

well on its way to completion by 1253, for in that year work was being carried out on the

entrance and canvas was purchased for covering the empty windows.36 The floor pavement

(typically the final feature to be completed in any building project) must have been laid no

later than 1258, for in that year the Close Roll, dated 20 April, records that the king gave to

Brother Robert, for paving the nearby chapel of St Dunstan, ‘all the tiles which remain of the

pavement of the chapter [house] of Westminster…’37 The pavement is laid out in fifteen

rectangular panels, or bands, on an east-west axis. Each band contains one or more distinct

inlaid patterns, ranging from decorative foliage and architectural designs to heraldry and

individual portraits.

While the surviving heraldic motifs seen at Clarendon and Winchester never fully coalesce

to form the complete coat of arms, those found at the Chapter House elevate the king’s

brand to a whole new level. Of the thirty-six tile designs found in the octagonal Chapter

House, by far the most elaborate and strategically placed are the two continuous bands of

tiles depicting the king’s arms. These start on opposite sides of the entrance and run parallel

across the floor, passing either side of the central column and terminating at the eastern row

of stone benches where, presumably, the king would preside [fig. 5]. Each shield upon the

36 Close Rolls, 43, as stated in L. Keen, ‘The chapter house decorated tile pavement’ in W. Rodwell, (ed.) Westminster Abbey Chapter House: The History, Art and Architecture of ‘a Chapter House Beyond Compare’ (London, 2010), p. 226. 37 Ibid., p. 209.

25

Chapter House floor displays the three leopards of England supported by centaurs and

wyverns in the spandrels [fig. 6]. These are amongst the earliest surviving representations

of the full royal arms of England, and their importance within the pavement layout as a

whole is indicated by their enhanced size. Compared to the other tiles in the Chapter

House, those bearing the king’s arms are easily the largest in surface area, measuring

500mm by 500mm (the next largest tiles only measure 360mm by 360mm).38 Together, the

parallel bands of proportionally enhanced tiles form a type of royal aisle, a grand walkway

for the incoming guest whose gaze and (more importantly) entire self are directed towards

the king. In this manner, the viewer literally becomes part of the king’s brand—his subjects

‘included’ within the imagery—simply by traversing the Chapter House floor.

Despite such innovative use of tile placement within the Chapter House pavement, there is a

distinct lack of uniformity in the width of each band. In fact, upon careful observation it

becomes clear that certain rows are not properly aligned due to varying sizes of tiles. This

flaw is unusual amongst other mid-thirteenth century floor pavements and raises the

question as to whether the individual tiles were in fact originally manufactured for the

Chapter House. As Elizabeth Eames has suggested, the mistakes in size might be explained

if one accepts that the artisans were using leftover stocks of tiles from other sites and were

more accustomed to paving the rectangular rooms and spaces at the king’s principal

residences.39 Laurence Keen advances this argument by suggesting that the entire Chapter

House pavement was not a special commission at all, but rather an accumulation of

decorated tiles left over from other paving operations specific to the Palace of Westminster 38 D. Carpenter, ‘King Henry III and the chapter house of Westminster Abbey’ in Rodwell, Westminster Abbey Chapter House, p. 43. 39 Eames, Medieval Tiles, p. 33.

26

or in the abbey itself. 40 This is suggested by an order placed in February 1237 by the king to

‘pave three chapels at Westminster Palace with tegula picta’.41 Coincidentally, Henry resided

at Westminster more than any other royal residence. Between 1234 and 1258 it is estimated

that he spent roughly 30% of his time there, compared to his 11% at Windsor and 7% at

Woodstock.42 If Keen’s argument is correct and the tiles laid at the Chapter House are in fact

merely the remains of those produced for Westminster Palace, then it would appear that

sites with greater residential and administrative importance not only received tiles of higher

material quality, but also those with more fully developed heraldic imagery.

While the evidence certainly suggests that many of the tiles used at the Chapter House come

from elsewhere, it seems unlikely that the pavement is composed entirely of leftover tiles.

Financially speaking, of course, the reuse of tiles would make sense considering the

deteriorating financial status of the Exchequer in the 1250s, and it would be of great value to

know the exact expenditure made on these tiles. Unfortunately, pavement tiles are not

itemized in any of the surviving accounts and it is therefore impossible to know if the king

would have saved money by recycling leftover palatial tiles. In terms of excess material, the

sheer number of tiles required to pave the entire Chapter House floor would suggest a

significant miscalculation on the part of the artisans working on the original pavements at

other sites. One is inclined to think, therefore, that the king commissioned a certain number

of tiles solely for the Chapter House. This notion is supported by a set of Chapter House

tiles that are sensitive to their architectural surroundings, namely, the Gothic features of the

adjacent Westminster Abbey. These tiles run along the base of the north and east walls of 40 Keen, ‘The chapter house decorated tile pavement’ p. 209. 41 Cal. Liberate Roll, 34, as stated in M. Wood, The English Mediaeval House (1965), p. 391. 42 Carpenter, ‘King Henry III and the chapter house’, p. 42.

27

the Chapter House and depict rose windows, the designs of which are very similar to the

rose window located in the south transept of the abbey [fig. 7]. If these tiles were originally

meant to reflect the abbey window (commissioned in 1245, well before the paving began), it

would make sense that they be placed on-site where their similarities could be readily

observed and appreciated—not, as Keen argues, in the removed context of a palace.43 It is

quite possible, therefore, that these tiles (and perhaps others) were produced specifically for

the Chapter House.

Whether the large heraldic tiles displaying the royal arms were also commissioned

specifically for the Chapter House must remain unknown. What is certain is that, regardless

of their provenance, the tiles were (re)laid in the mid-1250s. This is significant in light of the

broader political context of the time, for as previously mentioned, the decade leading up to

1258 witnessed considerable political discord within Henry’s court. As a result of this

tension, Henry may have felt the need to instill within his subjects a sense of political

stability held firmly in check by his overarching role as king—a message that was clear,

concise and capable of communicating to a wide audience. Here one must note that, while

primarily intended for the abbot and convent, the Chapter House was frequently used by

other bodies. The first documented instance for it entering the political domain comes from

April 1257 when the Burton Abbey annalist states that, ‘before prelates, clergy and people

congregated in a great multitude,’ the archbishop of Messina, on Henry’s behalf, solicited

the infamous Sicilian enterprise.44 Many years later, the Chapter House served as a meeting

place during Simon de Montfort’s great parliament of 1265, the first to which knights from 43 P. Binski, Westminster Abbey and the Plantagenets: kingship and the representation of power 1200—1400 (London, 1995), p. 28. 44 Annales Monastici, vol. 5, as stated in Carpenter, ‘King Henry III and the chapter house’, p. 35.

28

the shires and burgesses from the towns were both summoned.45 Against this changing

political backdrop it seems likely that Henry conceived the Chapter House from the outset

as being for the business of the realm as well as for the business of the monks. For him, it

was a place where he and his spokesmen could address the people while surrounded by

architecture which, from the ground up, proclaimed and enhanced the dignity and

splendour of his kingship.

In summary, this chapter has examined four case studies from a broad range of sites that,

when viewed together, reveal the use of decorative tiles to promote a royal brand that

revolved around familiar heraldic imagery. The decision about when, where and how to

incorporate such imagery ultimately depended on the message which Henry wished to

convey and the audience for which it was intended. This, in turn, was largely determined

by the socio-political context of the site in question. The following chapter will examine how

the king’s brand was gradually adapted in an effort to maintain the interest, loyalty and

support of his court.

45 Carpenter, ‘King Henry III and the chapter house’, p. 35.

29

Chapter 4: Adapting the Brand

When building up a brand over time, motifs must often be adapted to resonate with the

changing needs and expectations of the viewer. In this final chapter the paper turns to

examine how this model is reflected in the pavements commissioned in the later years of

Henry’s brand building campaign, particularly in the mid-1250s. Floor tiles dating from this

period convey aspects of royal ideology in a more engaging manner than previously seen.

The objective, of course, remained the same. Loyalty was still of primary importance, the

attainment of which was largely determined by how readily viewers could identify with the

king and his brand. To this end, tiles produced in this period function more as narrative

guides and interactive templates for those aspiring to be closer to the king and thereby

acquire his patronage. In short, popular legends and stories of chivalry were depicted to

highlight a specific set of skills and courtly ideals which, if properly observed and

subsequently practiced, might win favour with the king and result in political advances in

his court.

The main body of evidence which demonstrates this point is a group of inlaid tiles

discovered at the ruined site of Chertsey Abbey, Surrey. Possibly the most intricate and

aesthetically advanced tiles produced in the mid-thirteenth century, the Chertsey series

consist of various sub-groups of tiles, each of which display a wide range of imagery and

themes relevant to Henry’s ideological pursuits. Together, these tiles embody a belief

system that revolves around loyalty, honour and courtly gentility.

Before considering each theme, however, a brief word of caution is necessary. Similar to the

tiles at Westminster Abbey Chapter House, the provenance of the Chertsey tiles remains

30

uncertain and it is not entirely clear if they were originally commissioned by Henry. The

circumstantial evidence, however, suggests that they were in some way connected to the

king. Indeed, despite their discovery at a Benedictine abbey, the superb craftsmanship and

decidedly secular themes displayed on these tiles make them more suitable for a royal

palace than a religious community. Furthermore, it has been established that the abbey itself

enjoyed royal patronage under the Plantagenets and it could be that these tiles were a royal

gift to the monks.46 Geographically, Chertsey Abbey is close to Westminster Palace and

may have been a frequent destination for the king. There is evidence to show that Henry

visited the Abbey at least once, for a mandate which he issued from Chertsey exists from the

28th year of his reign.47 This close proximity helps explain the artistic similarities between

the tiles found at Chertsey Abbey and those used at the Westminster Abbey Chapter

House—both of which incorporate a similar artistic vocabulary that is suggestive of a

common artist or group of artists.48 Considering these factors, it seems likely that Henry

was involved in some capacity with the commission of the Chertsey tiles, and it is on this

premise that the chapter proceeds.

The first sub-group of Chertsey Tiles, commonly known as the Tristram series, is a set of thirty-

four tiles which illustrate the legendary twelfth-century romance of Tristram and Isolde. The

inscriptions accompanying these tiles are in French and help identify the legend as such.49 They

include the names MARC, MEHAUT and MORGAN—all of which are associated with the

46 S. Kelly, ‘Charters of Chertsey Abbey’ in Anglo-Saxon Charters, vol. 19 (2015), p. 33. 47 W. Lethaby, ‘The Romance Tiles of Chertsey Abbey’ in The Walpole Society, vol. 2 (1912), p. 78. 48 Lethaby, ‘Romance Tiles’, p. 70. 49 C.M.T., p. 146.

31

Tristram story—as well as four contractions of the name Tristram itself [fig. 8].50 If the

inscriptions are to be trusted, the tiles which they identify are the earliest surviving illustration

of the story of Tristram and are the only set of extant English tiles with Arthurian imagery

(there are no French precedents in either subject matter or artistic quality).51 Indeed, M. Loth

has shown that ‘it is impossible to find for the Romance of Tristram any other country than

England; it can have had no other cradle than Cornwall.’52 While it is possible that the imagery

depicted in the tiles is based on an illuminated manuscript, no such manuscripts survive.

Although the Chertsey tiles comprise the fullest pictorial cycle of the legend of Tristram and

Isolde, the story they tell does not relate the typical romance of courtly love poems. Rather,

the tiles concentrate on Tristram’s youth and early knighthood, largely ignoring his affair

with Isolde, who only appears three times in the entire series. By downplaying the illicit

romance, the tiles remove the dilemma of adultery and treason committed against the king.

It is highly significant, for example, that there are no surviving scenes of King Mark being

duped by the lovers. In fact, Mark appears in no images with Isolde, and there is not even

the suggestion of their relationship as husband and wife. Rather, the tiles present King

Mark in an unusually positive light, emphasizing the masculine power relations inherent in

the feudal hierarchy while simultaneously downplaying the problematic issues of adultery

and betrayal. Thus, the legend as told by the Chertsey tiles is very much in support of the

king and, through selective illustration, celebrates the fidelity which Henry expected of his

subjects.

50 Lethaby, ‘Romance Tiles’, p. 73. 51 Ibid., p. 78. 52 Ibid., p. 72.

32

Loyalty as a theme is continued in the Tristram series through the numerous demonstrations

of fealty to one’s lord and the formal exchange of allegiance. In figure [9a] the lords of

Parmenie offer their hands to Tristram after relinquishing their lands to him.53 Through this

act they swear an oath of fealty to Tristan and acknowledge his status as their lord. A kiss

was another way to signify feudal allegiances, and this act is featured in two of the tiles. In

the first, King Mark kisses Tristram, either upon learning he is his nephew or (more likely)

upon hearing Tristram’s offer to fight Morold [fig. 9b].54 The kiss embodies Mark’s loyalty

and respect for Tristram, which Tristram reciprocates in returning the kiss. After his defeat

of Morold, the barons display their gratitude to Tristram by kissing him, as well [fig. 9c].

The dedication of three tiles to these relatively small acts—in that they have little

consequence to the plot—is significant. By focusing on minor events in the narrative, the

tiles highlight the relationship between lord and vassal—the most fundamental unit of

feudal society and the foundation of the socio-political structure. The visual manifestation

of such relationships in the Chertsey Tiles reinforces this hierarchy, suggesting that the

patron was someone who valued (and profited from) such allegiance.

While loyalty may have played a central role in the Tristram legend to begin with, there is

reason to believe that the emphasis placed on fidelity to the king was partially in response to

contemporary developments at Henry’s court. As previously observed in the Queen’s

pavement at Clarendon Palace, brand building could be linked to power relations at all

levels—including that of the royal couple. To this extent, one might question if, through

these tiles, the Tristram legend was being adapted to serve as a subtle warning, a note of

53 C.M.T., p, 75. 54 Ibid., p. 79.

33

caution embedded within an otherwise thrilling tale of romantic deceit and betrayal. This

notion stems from the fact that the king’s wife, Eleanor, was apparently enthralled by tales

of knightly chivalry and romance. Indeed, the queen relished stories based on both classical

history and Arthurian legend, the so-called ‘matter of Britain’. This is suggested by the list

of heroes introduced to the queen by her chaplain, John of Howden. John’s Anglo-Norman

version of the Latin poem, Rossignos, was composed specifically for Eleanor and includes the

names of Hector, Troilus, Alexander and Caesar, as well as Gawain, Iwain, Perceval,

Lancelot and Arthur.55 In 1249-50 the Master of the Knights Templar was ordered to deliver,

for the use of the Queen’s works at Westminster Palace, the librum magnum, written in

French and containing the gests of Antioch and the Kings.56 Shortly afterwards, one of the

queen’s apartments at Westminster Palace was redecorated and named the ‘Antioch

Chamber’, presumably in honour of the epic capture and defence of the city in 1098.

Additionally, between 24 June and 28 October 1252, Eleanor bought two romances, one from

Peter of Paris for 10s and one ‘done by the hand of William of Paris at Oxford’ for 1 15s.57

Clearly, the queen found such stories highly captivating and worthy of visual display. One

cannot help but suspect, therefore, that the king, in censoring one of the greatest Arthurian

romances, may have been strategically editing certain details of the legend to emphasize the

importance of personal piety and fidelity.

Yet if Eleanor’s interest in romance was indeed a motivating factor in the choice of imagery

for these tiles, so too must have been her respect for honour. Indeed, the Tristram tiles go to

great length to illustrate Tristram’s military valour and portray him as a guardian of honour.

55 M. Howell, Eleanor of Provence (Oxford, 1998), p. 82. 56 Lethaby, ‘English Primitives’, p. 138. 57 Howell, Eleanor, p. 84.

34

Tristram’s duel with Morold receives the greatest attention out of all the episodes depicted.

Although the actual combat occurs in only two scenes [figs. 10a, 10b], the extended episode

occupies eight to ten tiles—depending on whether one includes the uncertain

identifications—which accounts for about a quarter of all the tiles.58 The most unusual

inclusion in the Chertsey series is Tristram’s confrontation with Duke Morgan. This episode

is rarely—if ever—depicted in medieval art, but the Chertsey series devotes five tiles to the

subject.59 The immediate reason for Tristram’s voyage to Parmenie is, of course, to claim the

fief that is rightfully his by inheritance. His motivation, however, is honour, and the catalyst

that moves Tristram to violence is Duke Morgan’s defamation of himself and his parents.

Another less commonly depicted instance concerning the defence of honour is Tristram’s

challenge to the Irish steward [figs. 11a, 11b]; although the steward refuses the challenge,

both tiles illustrate Tristram’s willingness to defend his honour through combat.

Upholding honour by means of physical combat is further demonstrated by a second sub-

group of tiles from Chertsey Abbey commonly referred to as the Combat series. This group

includes nine roundels, each of which is baked in four separate quarters that, when placed

together, share a white circular band around their border. Two of these tiles have been

identified as the slaying of Saladin by Richard ‘Coeur de Lion’ in single mounted combat

[figs. 12; 13a, 13b].60 Apart from being Henry’s uncle, King Richard I (r.1189-99), was an

especially significant figure vis-à-vis the lion and physical combat, a theme which Henry

allegedly incorporated in the decoration of several wall-paintings at various royal sites. In

June 1251, for example, he ordered the ‘story of Antioch’ to be painted at Winchester Castle,

58 C.M.T., p. 80. 59 Ibid., p. 92. 60 Ibid., p. 95.

35

and in July he had ‘the story of Antioch and the duel of King Richard’ painted in the room

beneath his chapel at Clarendon.61 Furthermore, in 1251 the King’s Chamber at the Tower of

London was painted with the story of Antioch.62 Clearly, Richard embodied for Henry the

ideal knight who displayed both courage and honour in battle.

However, based on the diversity of arms displayed by the knights on the remaining tiles in

the Combat series, it is likely that the tiles also evoke popular tales and heroes besides that of

King Richard. The tile listed as figure [13c] displays a knight and lion in deadly combat, the

former’s shield bearing a chevron that is reminiscent of the Clare family, a prominent and

influential English family within Henry’s court. Another tile [fig. 13d] illustrates a knight

bearing a distinct heraldic cross. Eames suggests that these are illustrations of well-known

judicial combats in which a hero was pitted against a lion, not all of which may date from

the medieval period.63 The inclusion of three tile designs [figs. 14a, 14b, 14c] in which the

style of dress is Classical, along with the image of a rider with neither shoes nor stirrups

[fig. 14a] confirms this notion. Eames further posits that these images may represent the

story of Sampson or other biblical stories set outside Western Europe.64 Were these attempts

to associate the king with models from antiquity? The simultaneous use of contemporary,

ancient and perhaps even biblical figures to convey heroic feats of honour and military

courage is—like the legend of Tristram and Isolde—suggestive that Henry was adapting his

brand to revolve around familiar stories and sagas that would spark interest and encourage

contemporaries to identify with the English monarchy.

61 Liberate Rolls, 35, as stated in Borenius, ‘Cycle of Images’, p. 42. 62 Lethaby, ‘English Primitives’, p. 140. 63 E. Eames, ‘A Decorated Tile Pavement from the Queen’s Chamber, Clarendon Palace, Wiltshire, Dated 1250-1252’ in The British Museum Quarterly, vol. 22 (1960), p. 35. 64 Lethaby, ‘Romance Tiles’, p. 74.

36

The third and final theme embedded within the Chertsey Tiles is that of knightly gentility.

Various attributes celebrated in medieval courtly society—musical talent, hunting skill and

cleverness—all receive prominent attention in the Tristram series, as well as in tiles from

sites further afield such as Westminster Abbey Chapter House. In both cases there exists a

common notion that one must prove oneself worthy to hold a place at the king’s court. In

other words, both display scenes of individual tests of skill which were used to gain the

attention, respect, and ultimate support of the king.

To this end, musical talent was clearly an important aspect in Henry’s court and is reflected

in multiple tiles from both locations. Scenes from the Tristram series depict how Tristram’s

talent of playing the harp helps him become closer to King Mark and gains him access to the

Irish court [fig. 15a].65 Later, in the same series, Tristram is shown instructing Isolde how to

play the harp—an instructional relationship that would ultimately result in their illicit

romance [fig. 15b].66 Finally, a tile illustrating the disguised Tristram harping in a boat off

the Irish shore highlights both his musical talent and his cleverness in devising a plan to win

Isolde’s affection [fig. 15c]. The importance of musical entertainment and skill is echoed in

the Chapter House at Westminster Abbey, where there are two identical tiles that illustrate a

musical duo [fig. 15d]. The figure on the left holds a three-stringed fiddle; that to the right

holds a harp. Neither is depicted in a playing position, and it may be assumed, therefore,

65 C.M.T., p. 112. 66 Ibid., p. 115.

37

that the musicians are warming up.67 It is also possible that this tile was originally part of a

much larger series pertaining to the various stages of a musical production.

In addition to musical skill, tiles from both sites also reveal how hunting ability might result

in favour at the king’s court. Indeed, the tile listed as figure [16] features Tristram’s hunting

ability which proves instrumental throughout the legend in navigating the hero through

difficult situations and in elevating his status at court. The value placed on hunting is

further emphasized in the Chapter House pavement where a three-tile sequence depicts a

hunting party in swift pursuit of a deer [figs. 17a, 17b, 17c]. Adjacent tiles from the same site

also contain portraits of the king and queen enthroned with a dog and a falcon, respectively

[figs.18a, 18b]. The inclusion of the falcon is particularly significant, for it aligns with the

extensive body of literature on the art of falconry that had emerged by the mid-thirteenth

century and culminated in the 1240s with Emperor Frederick II’s treatise, De arte venandi.68

Popular interest, it seems, had once again found visual expression in the king’s brand. In

the case of the Tristram series, a well-known narrative is used to highlight certain knightly

qualities to illustrate how one might gain favour with the king. Similarly, with the Chapter

House tiles, the tiles associate the king with courtly pursuits and pastimes, establishing him

as a more relatable figure in the eyes of the nobility and a patron worthy of their loyalty and

support.

67 Keen, ‘The chapter house decorated tile pavement’ p. 220. 68 C. Haskins, ‘The De Arte Venandi cum Avibus of the Emperor Frederick II’, in English Historical Review, vol. 36 (1921), p. 338.

38

Conclusion Brand building via the use of a common repertoire of visual motifs to encourage a sense of

loyalty to an ideology can be observed throughout history. In mid-thirteenth century

England, a time when symbolism and heraldry were gaining widespread attention, the

importance of establishing a brand image was especially vital for the king. For Henry III,

the political tension at court during the 1240s and 1250s required a strategy that would help

ensure the continued loyalty and support of his magnates. He therefore developed imagery

that would resonate with his subjects while simultaneously reinforcing his personal

ideology of kingship. It has been the aim of this paper to demonstrate how inlaid tiles

played a central role in this process, serving as a vehicle through which the king could

establish and promote his royal brand.

Defining Henry’s ‘brand’ in precise terms is difficult, for although the various tile

pavements discussed above revolve around similar notions of kingship, they each display a

different range of symbols and compositional layouts that relate to their socio-political

contexts. Pavements found at secluded sites such as Clarendon Palace incorporate heraldic

motifs that reflect an internalization of kingship on a personal level, revealing, perhaps, the

areas of conflict or tension felt by its patron. Conversely, the tiles used in the Chapter House

at Westminster Abbey convey a much more explicit message of kingship, one that fits the

politically-charged atmosphere by physically inviting the viewer to participate in the brand

itself. As seen with the various sub-groups of Chertsey Tiles, the king’s brand was also

adaptable, ready to incorporate popular legends and courtly pursuits to captivate the

viewer’s attention. Familiar imagery was used to communicate the king’s values and

reinforce the underlying principles of loyalty, honour and courtly gentility. In this manner,

39

the patron was providing an instructional template for anyone wishing to obtain Henry’s

patronage and support.

Of course, many of the observations and conclusions made throughout this paper are

tentative and require further corroboration with contemporary records. This is complicated,

however, due to the relative lack of surviving literary sources pertaining to floor tiles. One

aspect that is particularly vague and would be of immense value to this study is a more

complete understanding of how contemporaries interpreted and reacted to these tiles.

Further research might also examine in greater detail the relationship between Henry and

Eleanor at the time these tiles were produced. Despite these areas of ambiguity, it is clear

that inlaid floor tiles commissioned during this period were far more than a mere substitute

for the king’s political incompetence. Rather, they served as an artistic medium through

which Henry could actively attempt to establish and promote his royal ideology in a manner

that would resonate with his subjects.

40

Appendix

Figure 1: Illustration from the Trinity Apocalypse, c. 1255-60, showing the arms of Simon de Montfort (a white lion on red) in an early example of ‘black’ propaganda; image taken from Ailes, ‘Heraldry’, p. 151, plate III.

41

Figure 2: Inlaid tile pavement, discovered beneath the king’s chapel in Clarendon Palace, now in the British Museum, London; image take from M. Mellor and D. Ling, ‘Establishing best practice in asbestos removal: the management of unique Medieval floor tile assemblages’ in The British Museum Technical Research Bulletin, vol. 3 (2009), p. 103, plate II.

42

(A)

(B)

(C)

Figure 3: (A) Inlaid tile pavement with lion and griffin motifs, discovered in the northernmost chamber of the Queen’s apartments in Clarendon Palace, now in the British Museum, London; image taken from Mellor and Ling, ‘Establishing best practice’, p. 104, plate III. (B) and (C) are illustrations by E. Eames of tiles from the same pavement; images taken from C.M.T., pp. 340-410, plates 1795 and 1868.

43

Figure 4: Inlaid tile pavement showing lions and griffins, currently located outside the Lady Chapel in Winchester Cathedral, Hampshire; image taken from Norton, ‘Winchester Cathedral’, p. 169, plate II.

44

Figure 5: Drawing by C. Constantino and W. Rodwell showing current tile layout in Westminster Abbey Chapter House, London; image taken from Mortimer and Rodwell, Westminster Abbey Chapter House, p. 305, plan 2.

45

Figure 6: Inlaid floor tile showing the royal arms, currently in Westminster Abbey Chapter House, London; image taken from Carpenter, ‘King Henry III and the chapter house’, p. 37, plate 41.

46

Figure 7: Inlaid floor tiles showing rose window designs; currently located in Westminster Abbey Chapter House, London; image taken from Binski, Westminster Abbey and the Plantagenets, p. 29, plate 33.

47

(A)

(B)

(C)

(D)

©

(F)

(G)

Figure 8: Illustrations by E. Eames of various inscriptions associated with the Tristram series discovered at Chertsey Abbey, Surrey; now in the British Museum, London. (A, B and C) depict the names MARC, MEHAUT and MORGAN; (D, E, F, and G) depict derivatives of the name ‘TRISTRAM’; images taken from C.M.T., pp. 250-255, plates 870, 877, 883, 886, 936, 939 and 940.

48

(A)

(C)

(B)

Figure 9: Illustrations by E. Eames of inlaid tiles that depict scenes of homage and allegiance to the king; discovered at Chertsey Abbey, Surrey; now in the British Museum, London; images taken from C.M.T., pp. 170-174, plates, 480, 485 and 487.

49

(A)

(B)

(A)

(B)

Figure 11: Illustrations of inlaid tiles depicting a challenge of honour; (A) depicts Tristram gesturing; (B) depicts the steward; discovered at Chertsey Abbey, Surrey; now in the British Museum, London; images taken from C.M.T., pp. 169-71, plates 479 and 498.

Figure 10: Illustrations by E. Eames of inlaid tiles that show the duel between Tristram and Morhold; discovered at Chertsey Abbey, Surrey; now in the British Museum, London; images taken from C.M.T., pp. 178-79, plates 489 and 490.

50

Figure 12: Inlaid floor tile thought to represent King Richard I bearing the royal arms of England; discovered at Chertsey Abbey, Surrey, now in The British Museum, London; image taken from E. Eames, Medieval Tiles, A Handbook (London, 1968), p. 4, plate B.

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(A)

(C)

(B)

(D)

Figure 13: Illustration by E. Eames of inlaid tiles belonging to the ‘Combat series’; (A and B) are considered to represent King Richard and Saladin; (C and D) depict unidentified battle scenes; discovered at Chertsey Abbey, Surrey; now in the British Museum, London; images taken from C.M.T., pp. 120-26, plates 466, 467, 469 and 470.

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(A)

(B)

(C) Figure 14: Illustrations by E. Eames of inlaid tiles depicting scenes with Classical and perhaps biblical associations; discovered at Chertsey Abbey, Surrey; now in the British Museum, London; images taken from C.M.T., pp. 127-34, plates 471-74.

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(A)

(C)

(B)

(D)

Figure 15: Illustrations by E. Eames of inlaid tiles; (A, B and C) depict music scenes from the Tristram series; discovered at Chertsey Abbey, Surrey; now in the British Museum, London; (D) depicts two musicians preparing to play, currently located at Westminster Abbey Chapter House, London; all images taken from C.M.T., pp. 167-88, plates 478, 494, 495 and 504.

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Figure 16: Illustration by E. Eames of an inlaid tile depicting a scene from the Tristram series in which the young Tristram is demonstrating his hunting skill; discovered at Chertsey Abbey, Surrey; now in the British Museum, London; image taken from C.M.T., p. 129, plate 465.

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(A) (B)

(C)

Figure 17: Illustrations by E. Eames of three inlaid tiles depicting a hunting scene, currently located in Westminster Abbey Chapter House, London; images taken from Keen, ‘The chapter house decorated tile pavement’ p. 224, plates 29, 30 and 31.

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(A) (B)

Figure 18: Illustrations by E. Eames of inlaid tiles depicting the king and queen enthroned with a hound and falcon; currently located at Westminster Abbey Chapter House, London; images taken from Keen, ‘The chapter house decorated tile pavement’ p. 225, plates 32, and 34.

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Works Cited Ailes, A., ‘Heraldry in Medieval England’ in Coss, P. and Keen, M. (eds.) Heraldry, Pageantry and Social Display in Medieval England (Woodbridge, 2002), pp. 83-104. Beaumont, T., and Gerrard, C., Clarendon: landscape of kings (London, 2007). Binski, P., Westminster Abbey and the Plantagenets: kingship and the representation of power 1200—1400 (London, 1995).

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Borenius, T., and Charlton, J., ‘Clarendon Palace: An Interim Report’ in The Antiquaries’ Journal, vol. 16 (1936), pp. 14-29. Carpenter, D., ‘King Henry III and the chapter house of Westminster Abbey’ in Rodwell, W. (ed.) Westminster Abbey Chapter House: The History, Art and Architecture of ‘a Chapter House Beyond Compare’ (London, 2010), pp. 32-39. Carpenter, D., ‘King Henry III’s ‘Statute’ against Aliens: July 1263’ in The English Historical Review, vol. 107 (1992), pp. 925-944. Carpenter, D., ‘King, Magnates, and Society: The Personal Rule of King Henry III, 1234-1258’ in Speculum, vol. 60 (1985), pp. 39-70. Chaplais, P., ‘The Making of the Treaty of Paris (1259) and the Royal Style’ in The English Historical Review, vol. 67 (1952), pp. 235-253.

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Eames, E., ‘A Thirteenth-century tile Pavement from the King’s Chapel, Clarendon Palace’ in Journal of the British Archaeological Association, vol. 26 (1963), pp. 40-53.

Eames, E., ‘A Tile Pavement from the Queen’s Chamber, Clarendon Palace, dated 1250-2’ in Journal of the British Archaeological Association, vol. 14 (1951), pp. 95-106.

Eames, E., Catalogue of Medieval Lead-Glazed Earthenware Tiles in the Department of Medieval and Later Antiquities British Museum, vols. 1-2 (London, 1980). Eames, E., ‘Further Notes on a Thirteenth-Century Tiled Pavement from the King’s Chapel, Clarendon Palace’ in Journal of British Archaeological Association, vol. 35 (1972), pp. 71-76.

Eames, E., Medieval Tiles – A Handbook (London, 1968).

Eames, E., ‘The Royal Apartments at Clarendon Palace in the Reign of Henry III’ in Journal of British Archaeological Association, vol. 28 (1965), pp. 57-85.

Gardner, J., and Eames, E., ‘A Tile kiln at Chertsey Abbey’ in Journal of the British Archaeological Association, vol. 17 (1954).

Haskins, C., ‘The De Arte Venandi cum Avibus of the Emperor Frederick II’, in English Historical Review, vol. 36 (1921), pp. 337-39. Howell, M., Eleanor of Provence (Oxford, 1998).

Jacob, E., ‘The Reign of Henry III. Some Suggestions’ in Transactions of the Royal Historical Society, vol. 10 (1927), pp. 21-53. Keen, L., ‘The chapter house decorated tile pavement’ in Rodwell, W. (ed.) Westminster Abbey Chapter House: The History, Art and Architecture of ‘a Chapter House Beyond Compare’ (London, 2010), pp. 209-236. Kelly, S., ‘Charters of Chertsey Abbey’ in Anglo-Saxon Charters, vol. 19 (2015), pp. 21-35. Knapp, G., ‘The Medieval Tiles of Winchester Cathedral’ in Winchester Cathedral Record, vol. 25 (1956), pp. 45-52. Lethaby, W., ‘English Primitives IV: The Westminster and Chertsey Tiles and Romance Paintings’ in The Burlington Magazine of Connoisseurs, vol. 30 (1917), pp. 133-40. Lethaby, W., ‘The Romance Tiles of Chertsey Abbey’ in The Walpole Society, vol. 2 (1912), pp. 69-80. Loomis, R., ‘A Sidelight on the “Tristan” of Thomas’ in The modern Language Review, vol. 10 (1915), pp. 304-309.

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Loomis, R., ‘Illustrations of Medieval Romance on Tiles from Chertsey Abbey (San Diego, 1916), pp. 85-104. Noppen, J., The Chapter House, Westminster Abbey (London, 1953). Norton, C., ‘The Medieval Tile Pavements of Winchester Cathedral’ in Crook, J. (ed.) Winchester Cathedral, Nine Hundred Years, 1093–1993 (Chichester, 1993), pp. 167-176. Norton, C., ‘The production and distribution of medieval floor tiles in France and England’ in Barral, A. (ed.) Artistes, artisans et production artistique au moyen age, vol, 3 (1990), pp.101-31.

Norton, C., ‘Thirteenth-century Tile Pavements in Anjou’ in The British Archaeological Association Conference Transactions, vol. 26 (2003), pp. 210-234. Oliver, S., Introduction to heraldry (London, 1987). Prestwich, M., Plantagenet England, 1225-1360 (Oxford, 2005). Ridgeway, H., ‘Foreign Favorites and Henry III’s Problems of Patronage, 1247-1258’ in The English Historical Review, vol. 104 (1989), pp. 590-610. Ridgeway, H., ‘King Henry III and the Aliens, 1236-1272’ in Thirteenth Century England, vol. II (Newcastle upon Tyne, 1987), pp. 33-77. Salzman, L, Building in England Down to 1540: a documentary history (1952).

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Stopford, J., ‘The organization of the medieval tile industry’ in Oxford Journal of Archaeology, vol. 11 (1992), pp. 341-63. Vinycomb, J., Fictitious and symbolic creatures in art: with special reference to their use in British heraldry (London, 1906). Ward-Perkins, J., ‘English Medieval Embossed Tiles’ in Archaeological Journal, vol. 94 (1937), pp. 128-153. Wight, J., Mediaeval Floor Tiles (London, 1975).

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Acknowledgements

I would like to express my sincere gratitude to my supervisor, Dr. Angus Stewart, for his

valuable and constructive suggestions during the planning and development of this research

work. His willingness to give his time so generously has been very much appreciated. I

would also like to extend my thanks to the University of St Andrews Print and Design team

for their technical assistance in producing this work. Finally, I wish to thank my family for

their unwavering support and encouragement throughout my study.