Exploring Costume Details on a 1511 Effigy

I have written almost nothing about my research progress, holding it instead inside my mind, often as just a mass of images, not words. This makes it awkward to share my observations. I’d like to post some effigy images from the early 16th century for someone also recreating costume of that era, but rather than mail them just to her, I’ll finally edit photos and blog about them.

I’ll begin with one of the effigies I found most satisfying to visit: Edith Babington (née Fitzherbert), wife of Thomas Babington, whose tomb rests in the nave of the Parish Church of Ashover, Derbyshire. Edith died in 1511, and according to the church guidebook this tomb was commissioned after her death, not after his in 1518.

(Click on the photos for full size images.)

Normally I am unhappy to see a painted effigy, because it means that historical information such as fragments of original color has been covered, obscured by well-meaning 19th or 20th century painters whose skill was seldom on par with the original 16th century artists. They also make mistakes in costume interpretation. Notice the loops of gold cord across her chest? These hold her mantle and are quite common on effigies. However, when the trailing ends of this cord pass under her hands, they change color to black with gold tassels. Also, the decorative lappet on the front of her bonnet is painted dark green, a color I have not seen represented in other images. I have seen that piece in both art and effigy as black, red, and gold, but not green. Despite these quibbles with the color scheme, overall the painting was pleasingly executed, with some depth of color produced by layering, and some real care for the effigy.

My original research goal was to document the earliest gable headdresses, and sadly this effigy is one of the earliest I can show. I imagined before I began that surely I would find some images that predate Elizabeth of York’s circa 1503 portrait; instead I found little evidence that gables really existed before 1500. I have a few brasses that might fall in the 1490s which show gabled bonnets, but I have not satisfied myself that they were actually executed during the 15th century.

Many of the other effigies from the first decade of the 16th century do not have gabled headdresses, but instead loose flowing hair capped with crowns, garlands, or similarly shaped rolls and netted caps. All the effigies with flowing hair also wear the terribly outdated (by 100 years) fashion of the sideless surcoat; I suspect that some important symbolism is to be conveyed by the combination of unbound hair and sleeveless overdress, but I have not yet satisfied myself that I have cracked the code. Maybe this was wedding garb, or was meant to evoke thoughts of holy women, or in some way announced the deceased lady’s elevated social status. To further confuse the question, I have not yet found a single early 16th century brass that shows a woman with flowing hair or a sideless surcoat. Only on effigies are women thus displayed.

But back to Edith! Her gown looks fairly typical of the time, comparing it mostly with English brasses. It is square necked, showing about an inch of a kirtle neckline beneath; tight sleeved without decoration at the cuff (folded back fur-lined cuffs are also common); lacks visible closure; and fits snugly to the hips before flaring to considerable fullness that falls straight down rather than being held out by undergarments. Her round-toed shoes are covered by the fullness of her gown, on which a tiny dog (a symbol of fidelity common on effigies) tugs earnestly. Her mantle is held by a long cord across the chest, but barely wraps around her shoulders. Since it leaves her front uncovered and falls to the floor behind, it seems likely that such a garment serves more of a decorative or symbolic function rather than being a useful cloak for keeping warm.

Edith wears only a little jewelry. She has a plain ring on her left hand but nothing on her right:

a rose-shaped clasp on her belt, which she wears over her left hip:

and at the end of a chain with very square links, a round ornament large enough to be a pomander:

 

There were other reasons that I liked this tomb. The man’s effigy was that of a civilian– a rare treat, since most tombs depict knights.

 

 

The tomb also had a vast number of weepers on the sides. They couldn’t have had that many children, so I puzzled over them for a while. I decided that the figures at the head of the tomb, between shield-bearing angels, were probably the donor couple praying to their favorite saints. I believe that would be Saint Catherine, holding the wheel on which she was to be tortured, and possibly Saint Thomas Becket, given that this was created in pre-Reformation England, those look like bishop’s vestments, and the donor’s name was Thomas. A rosary is prominent on Edith’s miniature figure, while her full-sized one on top of the tomb lacks one. Over the donors’ heads are the remains of scrolls that would have born prayers, most likely defaced during the Reformation. I am quite surprised that the saints’ figures survived.

 

I concluded that the weepers represented not only the couple’s children, but also their spouses. Each segment of the tomb contained a male/female pair until I came to one that had a woman holding the hands of two men. I surmise that one daughter’s first husband predeceased her mother, and she had remarried before this tomb was made. The other side bore a similar trio: one man with two women. It also had a set of two men uniquely attired: one in armor, one in priest’s robes. Perhaps one son, and not the eldest one (since he was in the middle of the side of the tomb and children are usually depicted in birth order) managed to attain a rank greater than his father? I assume that this son never married, so it was most convenient to pair him with his celibate church-serving brother. The last set of figures was also different: three males, the middle one with his gown worn open, showing his doublet and hose. I’d like to imagine that these last three were the little boys who had not yet wed when their mother died. It is unusual that no infants were depicted; did none of their progeny die early?

Here are the weepers on Edith’s side of the tomb, shown from left to right:

 

 

And here are the weepers on Thomas’s side of the tomb, also shown from left to right. The last trio of males was hard to photograph, tucked behind some immovable piece of furniture.

 

 

I love how much paint – which I assume is original to the tomb – remains on the weepers. The tiny details of purses and rosaries are wonderful.

The thing that I most enjoyed about this tomb, however, was Edith’s hat. Trying to interpret it, I see an underlayer that reaches to her shoulder, over which two lappets are placed. The bottom lappet (painted black) protrudes slightly farther than the cap beneath, and the top lappet (green) is narrower than the bottom one, but the same length.

 

The back of the rigid cap is draped with a black veil, and the front edge of the veil is folded back. See below, how the third, raised layer of fabric is very small at the bottom where it rests on her upper arm, and wide at the top? I think that and the layer it sits on is one piece of fabric, folded so that what we see is the underside or lining. At the top the folded forwardmost edge of the veil is hidden under the black lappet.

 

This. THIS is what I came to England to see. This is what I could not learn from photos in books or online. This tomb gives me so many clues about how to construct Elizabeth of York’s distinctive dress.

Now if only I could find more exemplars of this costume, instead of conflicting styles that predate it, postdate it, or are entirely imaginary. Ah, the thrill of the hunt.