Over Christmas break I photographed my first monuments, which I just edited and put online. I learned that I have a lot to learn.
The first monument I photographed was that of Margaret Beaufort, mother of Henry VII. She died in 1509 and was memorialized in bronze by Italian sculptor Pietro Torrigiano; he made the effigies of Henry VII and Elizabeth of York, so I knew the quality would be exceptional. Because Margaret was a vowess, her head covering is different – more like a widow – and since I want to recreate married woman’s dress, I’d never made seeing her effigy in Westminster a priority.
My mother-in-law and I visited Westminster Abbey while the boys were in school. It is easy to get to, but with a £16 admission cost I needed either company who wanted to tour the Abbey or some reason to prioritize the visit. Also, the Abbey forbids photographs, and I’m not ready to write for permission to photograph in places that normally forbid it. First I need more experience visiting churches where I don’t have to get it right the first time.
The site advises budgeting an hour and a half to tour, but we spent more than twice that, listening to every stop along the audio tour. As we walked, I pointed out common themes and interesting features of the funerary art. There is a large Victorian brass on which the figures wear armor and costume from the mid-fifteenth century – but the lettering (and date) are 19th century. There were some unlabeled medieval effigies whose anonymity tormented me. The Glastonbury chair with the patina of age made me smile…our chairs are well made, but I doubt they will ever look so venerable. The mosaic floor of semiprecious stones in front of the altar really drew my eye. I could only recognize the iconography on some of the saints; I should review my art history.
I realized almost immediately why photographs are forbidden – although it wasn’t unpleasantly crowded, the flow of tourists would be nearly impossible if people stopped to snap images or to avoid stepping into another person’s photograph. I honestly felt relieved that I could not possibly document the wonders I was beholding, because there were so many things to photograph, I would have taken all day just to make it out of the transept.
There are three early Tudor monuments with effigies at Westminster Abbey: Gyles 1st Lord Daubeney (+1508) and wife Elizabeth, Margaret Beaufort (+1509), and Henry VII (+1509) and Elizabeth of York (+1503). The latter three figures I knew reasonably well from the quality online images and the replicas of Henry VII and Elizabeth of York on the stairs at the National Portrait Gallery. I also knew that the original effigies of the king and queen would be obscured by a decorative metal screen. The first monument – Gyles and Elizabeth – I could only find a small image and snippet about online, but I doubted it would yield much costume data.
When we made it to Gyles, I found a beautiful and well-preserved monument. If I cared for armor I would have studied his form, but hers was not what I sought. The lady wears a medieval sideless surcoat, a fashion that I believe did more to indicate her rank for posterity than to reflect actual clothing she may have worn in her lifetime; a cloak further obscures the details of her dress. Her hair is down and flowing under a strange coif that I do not know how to interpret. The brim is thick, like a wreath or the turned-up edge of a knitted winter cap. I believe that as I explore other monuments, I may find actual wreaths of carved stone leaves; her style is neither the norm nor an anomaly. The top of the coif is an ornate net, probably decorated with pearls or beads at the intersections of the threads. Is this a fanciful object that, like the sideless surcoat, conveyed a message to contemporary observers? Is this a style of headwear she sported in life? I don’t know, but it was not the hood or transitional English gown I came to photograph, so I admired the monument, puzzled out the inscription, and moved on.
Next we passed Henry VII and Elizabeth of York. Thank goodness I had spent plenty of time studying them at the National Portrait Gallery, for they are almost invisible behind the screen.
Margaret of Beaufort’s effigy came next, and here a familiar sight yielded fresh new ideas. My mother-in-law stood patiently while I talked through what I had never seen before, and theorized about possible construction methods. She supplied pen and paper with which to sketch the headdress, and helped me estimate the dimensions of different points on the effigy. The most fascinating feature was that the cloth around Margaret’s face folds under itself, creating a smooth edge to the front of the veil by layers of fabric, instead of folding back to reveal a lining, a technique familiar to me from other 15th-16th century hoods.
After soaking in all that I could of Margaret Beaufort, I continued the tour, jittery with the excitement of discovery. I wanted photos to refer to when, months or years hence, I attempt to recreate that hood. When we returned our audio guides and stepped outside to the cloisters, I stopped. I had to ask for permission; if they said no, I’d just be where I was now, with no photos. I asked. My interest in the effigy for researching historical costume seemed good enough to the staff member, because he assigned a cheerful young volunteer to go with me, and I got to take my photos. I promised I only needed two or three shots – odd angles like looking down at the crown of her head, not the views I could buy in the gift shop – but my companion urged me to take as long as I needed. I explained what I was doing, and what I was seeing, as I photographed, and she suggested additional shots (Have you gotten her shoes? How about that deer thing at her feet? Do you need one of the other side?) We discussed Margaret Beaufort, and what an incredible lady she was. It was simply delightful.
Afterward I rejoined my mother-in-law, toured quickly through the gardens and the cloisters, finished the last little bit of the tour where one passed the coronation chair, and we made our way toward Tom and lunch and a tour of the London Google offices.