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Archive of Monuments of the Month November 2010 to September 2011

November 2010


The John Donne Monument (d. 1631) by Nicholas Stone

St Paul’s Cathedral, London.

   Nicholas Stone’s effigy of the poet and preacher John Donne in St Paul’s Cathedral, London, is a remarkable survival of seventeenth-century English sculpture. Donne is shown standing, perched on a funerary urn, and enveloped in a body-hugging burial shroud which has been gathered into two decorative ruffs at the head and feet. Only the face, with its shuttered eyelids, raffish beard, and benign, half-smiling expression, manages to breach this unsettling cocoon. The clean, moist appearance of the drapery and the softly-nuanced modelling of the features testify to Stone’s position as the finest sculptor of the English Baroque. The statue was installed within eighteen months of its subject’s death on 31 March 1631.


Donne was the incumbent Dean of St Paul’s, and his effigy is one of the very few monumental figures to have survived, more or less intact, from the Norman cathedral which perished in the Great Fire of 1666. It is hard to credit the old story that, as flames consumed the old cathedral, the statue slid off its pedestal and torpedoed its way into the safety of the crypt. Yet it was here, half-forgotten and propped up amidst the fragments of other pre-Fire monuments, that the statue spent much of its subsequent history. Towards the end of the nineteenth century, it was finally resurrected in Wren’s church, south of the choir, in a place roughly analogous to that which it once occupied.

The idea of the statue’s near pristine resurrection from the ashes of firey tribulation is wholly appropriate to the statue’s iconography. In his Lives of 1658, Izaak Walton, gave a remarkable account of the statue’s genesis: in his final days, the ailing Donne sought to personally model for the statue, summoning an unnamed ‘choice painter’ to make a life-size sketch for just this purpose. Donne had a wooden pedestal roughly fashioned into the shape of an urn and proceeded to pose upon it clad in his own winding sheet:


[…] he thus stood, with his eyes shut, and with so much of the sheet turned aside as might show his lean, pale and death-like face, which was purposely turned towards the East, from whence he expected the second coming of his and our Saviour Jesus.

Walton therefore implies that the intention was to show Donne newly regenerated and emergent from the grave at the moment of the Last Judgement. It thus anticipated a later vogue for ‘resurrection monuments’ in seventeenth-century England. Numerous upright shrouded effigies incorporated into such monuments as those to Henry Slingsbury at Knaresborough (1633) and John Dutton at Sherbourne, Gloucestershire (1656-7), were directly and demonstrably inspired by Donne’s monument in St Paul’s.


A handful of scholars have questioned the reliability of Walton’s story: is it feasible that a middle-aged dying man could stand, feet together, on a raised pedestal for long enough to model for a preparatory drawing? Surely any artist worth his salt would only require a likeness of the face; a stand-in could be employed for the rest. However, it is important to stress that the lost sketch, and the very act of modelling for it, were not merely by-products of the statue’s development. They should be related to the period’s predilection for contemplative death rituals designed to prepare the individual for death. Images played a vital role in this context, and it is arguable that the sketch of Donne in his shroud reflects the way in which new, idiosyncratic memento mori replaced the crucifixes and madonnas previously present at the bedsides of the dying in Protestant England.    

    Walton’s account has a ring of authenticity in other ways too: Donne was generally interested in art and art theory, and the idea that he was eager to become intimately involved with the creative process is plausible. There are a number of surviving portraits that reveal his fondness for effigising himself in various affected guises and attitudes. He was also not a man intent on taking death (literally) lying down, and was especially keen to make something exhibitive and performative out of his death. He wrote to a friend that ‘it hath been my desire and God may be pleased to grant it, that I might die in the Pulpit’. It was an ambition he almost achieved when, on 25 February 1631, prior to modelling for his monument and only a month away from the grave, he preached his last sermon in front of the court at Whitehall. He was in a shocking state of emaciation. Walton says that his text, which took death as its theme, was ‘prophetically chosen’ and that ‘he presented himself not to preach mortification by a living voice: but, mortality by a decayed body and a dying face […] Donne had preach’t his own Funeral Sermon’.


Donne’s writings also reveal a persistent preoccupation with the mechanics of the dissolution of the body and it its regeneration on the day of Judgement. Yet at the same time, he severely criticised art’s ability to properly reflect the horrors of bodily putrefaction as a preface to its miraculous rejuvenation. As a result, it may also be reasonable to assume that he intended his statue to critique the shrouded, desiccated corpses of the traditional transi tomb (especially as the latter retained contentious associations with an outmoded Catholic belief in purgatory).With this in mind, the shroud and the funerary urn of Donne’s statue operate beyond their roles as generic symbols of death. They supply a nuanced context to the upright figure, emphasising the miraculous narrative of its resurrection.


Further reading:


- Bald, R. C., John Donne – A Life (London, 1970).

- Bevan, J., ‘Hebdomeda Mortium: The Structure of Donne’s Last Semon’, The Review of English Studies, New Series, 45:178 (May 1994), pp. 185-203.

- Foxell, N., A Sermon in Stone: John Donne and His Monument in St Paul’s Cathedral (London, 1978).

- Gardner, H.,‘Dean Donne’s Monument in St. Pauls’, in R. Wellek & A. Ribeiro (eds), Evidence in Literary Scholarship (Oxford, 1979), pp. 29-44.

- Peterson, R.S., ‘New Evidence on Donne’s Monument: I’, John Donne Journal, 20 (2001), pp. 1-51.

- Walton, I., The Lives of Dr. John Donne, Sir Henry Wotton, Richard Hooker, George Herbert, and Dr. Robert Sanderson, ed. T. Zouch (New York, 1854).

Dr Philip Cottrell, University College Dublin   

December 2010

Walter Helyon (d. c. 1357) at Much Marcle (Herefordshire)

Wooden effigies were probably commonplace in medieval England, particularly from the late thirteenth century to the third quarter of the fourteenth century, but only 93 are known to survive, with a further 27 documented but lost. They form a particularly vulnerable type of monument, being liable to destruction by wood beetle, damp rot and fire. The vast majority of wooden effigies are military figures and ladies, with a handful of ecclesiastics and a few other categories. Wooden effigies of men in civil dress are uncommon. Indeed only four survive, the most eye-catching of which is in Much Marcle church.

   The wooden effigy depicts a franklin. His hood, which is worn around his shoulders, is attached to a cape. Underneath is a supertunic with long tippets reaching almost to his knees. A purse and dagger are attached to his hip belt. The supertunic is so tight at his waist that realistic wrinkles are shown there, but the skirt section is more generously cut from the hips to the knees to allow freedom of movement. This garment as shown on this monument is of particular interest to costume historians because of the relationship it displays between the circumference of the area to be clothed, the tightness of the clothing and the size and spacing of the buttons. The sleeves are the smallest area and have the smallest and most closely-set buttons. The bodice and skirt use larger buttons but they are more closely set when required to take the strain of the tight fit of the bodice.


Walter is shown with his legs crossed, which is unusual for civilian figures. Contrary to long-standing myth, this has nothing to do with the Crusades or a reputation for piety. The pose may have been chosen for practical reasons, for example to strengthen the carving at a potentially weak point.

The effigy commemorates Walter de Helyon, the son of Sir Hugh de Helyon who held land in nearby Ashperton in 1325. Walter was born about 1317 and acted as steward to William Grandison, Lord of Ashperton, and later his son Peter Grandison and his wife Blanche Mortimer, whose fine tomb we have seen in Much Marcle church. Walter inherited lands in Ashperton from his father Sir Hugh and later acquired lands in Much Marcle, including the mansion Helyons, now known as Hellens. He married Agnes, the daughter and heiress of Walter Welsh, about 1342, by whom he had a daughter and heiress, Johanna, who in turn married Richard Walwayne of Stoke Edith.


Walter de Helyon is last recorded in 1357 and probably died soon after. He was buried, not in Much Marcle, but in Ashperton and that was where his wooden effigy was originally set up. In Camden’s famous Britannia of 1607 he recorded that ‘Sir Waltar de Hellion ... lay cross legged in Ashperrton church, which was falling down a few years since ... and was removed to Hellion’ to preserve it from damage.


Hellion, now known as Hellens, is a fine manor house in Much Marcle. By 1301, it was the property of the family of Hugh Audley who was created the 1st Earl of Gloucester in 1337. Hugh Audley died in 1347, and the control of the manor passed to his nephew, Sir James Audley, a founding knight of the Order of the Garter and companion to Edward, the Black Prince. Sir James leased it to Walter Helyon, for whom the property is now named. His descendants have resided at the manor nearly continuously since first taking occupancy.


The effigy stayed at Hellens for several centuries, but was eventually moved to Much Marcle church. In the nineteenth century it received a coat of battleship grey paint. At this time there was a strange custom at Much Marcle of carrying the effigy into the church at the head of every funeral procession, much as if it had been a funeral effigy rather than a funerary monument. In between times it was kept on a damp window sill, which unsurprisingly did the effigy no good whatsoever.

  

Fortunately in 1972 the effigy was lent to an exhibition at the London Museum entitled ‘Chaucer’s London’. On its arrival it was discovered that the nineteenth century repainting had been carried out to conceal very extensive restoration in plaster and a surface honeycombed by beetle. Much of the face had been made up and other parts crudely restored, the fingers being no more than whittled sticks roughly nailed to the stumps of the hands, and the lion at the foot had been largely made up in mortar. A large area of the torso was in small segments that fitted together like a jigsaw puzzle, but were loose enough for any of the pieces to be taken out. As well as consolidating the damaged woodwork, replacements were made for the missing tip of the nose, the fingers and missing buttons on the supertunic. The replacement of the missing forefoot was based on the complete foot and the fragmentary dagger-hilt was reconstructed on the basis of a brass at King’s Sombourne (Hampshire) and of a kidney dagger in the Museum’s collection.


The removal of the Victorian paint revealed traces of earlier, presumably original, polychromy. Flecks were found of three colours in four areas. The effigy was repainted on the basis of this evidence and subtleties of graduation and simulated wear applied to the colouring. All wooden effigies would originally have had a complete covering of paint. When the effigy was returned to the church a new plinth was provided, on which it is securely fixed and where it is safe from further deterioration.

Copyright: Sally Badham; photos of effigy: C B Newham


2011 January

Hungerford

Berkshire

      

   This freestone military effigy in the north aisle of Hungerford church reclines on a low (modern) base.  It is defaced and mutilated, and the lower legs and right arm are missing.  The figure is crossed-legged, and the head rests on two cushions (the upper in a diagonal position).  The right hand grasps the edge of the shield (an unusual gesture), and the long surcoat is worn open in the common v-fashion.

This is the only surviving pre-Reformation effigy from the previous, Early English / Perpendicular church, which was demolished between 1814 and 1816 due to disrepair.  The present church was designed by architect and builder John Pinch the elder, and completed in 1816.  Pinch, who was active in Somerset and Wiltshire, also designed St Mary’s, Bathwick in Bath (1817-1820).  This explains why Hungerford church is built in the ‘Georgian Gothic’ style and constructed of Bath stone.  The building material was transported up the adjoining and recently opened Kennet and Avon canal.

There is some confusion as to the identity of the effigy as there are no accompanying heraldic devices, inscriptions or documentary evidence.  The figure is currently labelled ‘Sir Robert de Hungerford (d. 1352)’, and there is a general consensus among antiquarians and modern-day historians alike that this is the remains of his tomb. Certainly, the Hungerford family were living in the town from the twelfth century, and Robert de Hungerford founded a chantry dedicated to the Holy Trinity in the south aisle of the church in 1325.  He was born c. 1285, the eldest son of Walter de Hungerford and Maud Heytesbury. Robert was an important man, appointed bailiff for the Duchy of Lancaster in Berkshire and Wiltshire in 1313 and sitting for Wiltshire in parliament three years later. In 1322, Edward II made him keeper of the southern lands of the Earls of Lancaster and Hereford who had been executed for arranging the murder of the King’s favourite, Piers Gaveston. Sir Robert was later made a commissioner to inquire into the possessions of the Despensers after their attainder in 1328. Although Robert married twice he was the last of his line.

However, the fact that the effigy has been dated to c.1300  (most recently by Mark Downing), strongly suggests that it is not the tomb of Robert de Hungerford. This mid-fourteenth century period of armour has been described as the age of superimposition, and the layers of garments/defences on the body from inside outwards comprised: shirt, aketon (gambeson), haubergeon, coat-of-plates, coat armour. Although the Hungerford figure is worn and the greater part of his limbs has been lost, it is clear that the figure wears the long surcoat of an earlier period and there is no evidence of plate defences, which were commonplace by the mid century. Possibly the effigy instead commemorates Robert’s father, Walter, who appears to have died after 1308. Robert may himself had another monument, only the inscription of which survives. It was not unusual for tombs to get muddled up during church rebuildings.     

 

Part of the reason for this case of mistaken identity is the existence of an incised indulgence slab, inviting viewers to pray for Robert de Hungerford in this life and the next.  The slab is currently attached to the north wall of the north aisle (behind the effigy).  Although it makes reference to Robert de Hungerford, there is no evidence to link it to the surviving effigy.

       

Cross-legged effigies of men in armour like that at Hungerford have commonly, but wrongly, been thought to commemorate crusaders. Most such figures date from the period between the second half of the thirteenth and the mid-fourteenth century, but the participation in crusades by the English military classes was waning by this time. Many knights commemorated by cross-legged effigies have been shown to have no connection whatsoever with crusading; the same is likely to be true of the man commemorated at Hungerford, whoever he was.

    

Bibliography

Downing, M., Military Effigies of England and Wales: Bedfordshire to Derbyshire, Vol. 1, Shrewsbury 2010.

Money, W., An Historical Sketch of the Town of Hungerford in the County of Berkshire, Newbury 1894.

      

Copyright: Dr Ellie Pridgeon (University of Leicester / Wiltshire Heritage Museum)

Photographs: Dr Ellie Pridgeon


2011 February


The Schaw Monument

Dumfermline Abbey Church

   William Schaw (c.1550-1602) was a practisng stonemason and, from 1583, master of works to the king, James VI, with responsibility for royal castles and palaces. His status is shown by his tomb in the royal abbey of Dunfermline, and, by the fact that it was ordered by James's queen, Anne of Denmark. Shaw is also regarded as one of the founders of speculative Freemasonry in Scotland. The monument is now sited under the north-west tower and was moved there in 1794 from a position further east in the nave.

The tomb is a freestone Classical wall monument consisting of short Composite pilasters flanking a long Latin inscription, in which Schaw is described as a 'most skillful architect', with a further inscribed panel on the top supported by heavy scrolled brackets. The monument finishes with a triangular pediment in which is a coat of arms, a star between three covered cups (a variant of azure, three covered cups or, for Schaw (Scotland)), and the initials W. S. William had the right to bear this arms through his family  connection with the Schaws of Sauchie, who were keepers of the king's wine cellar, and lairds with lands near Stirling. It is not recorded that he was awarded the version shown here, and it must be assumed that he added the star as a mark of heraldic difference. The top inscription, also in Latin, records Schaw's friendship with Alexander Seton, Earl of Dunfermline, who must have been involved in commissioning the monument. Schaw died in 1602 but the monument probably dates from after 1605 when Seton became the first Earl of Dunfermline. In the centre of the entablature is William Schaw's name written twice, once spelled out in full, and also displayed on a white marble panel in a device in which all the letters of his name are placed on top of each other.  

The tomb has two masons' marks repeatedly and prominently displayed on top of capitals, on the pilaster bases, and on the marble panel, but these are not Schaw's mark, they are those of the mason who created the tomb, and an assistant. The mason was David Scougal of Crail, named on the signed and dated tomb to James, 7th Earl of Glencairn, and his wife Margaret, in the Glencairn aisle of St Maurs in Kilmaurs, beneath the same mason’s mark; ‘WROGH BE DAVID SCWGAL MASSON BVRGES IN CAREL 1600’. The Glencairn tomb shares the same Classical format, but has figures of the Earl and his Countess in prayer, their elbows resting on books on the ledge of what appears to be a balcony, with their children shown on the front face. Details, such as the capitals, are similar and based on Composite originals although cruder, and include the whorl in the astragal that is also used on the Schaw tomb. Scougal may also have made the tomb to Kennedy of Bargany at Ballantrae which is similar.


Medieval tombs, with the notable exception of those made by cathedral works department for monuments erected within the building, are very rarely marked by the masons who made them. Tombs were either costed as single objects, or the different elements of more complex ones were provided by a series of contractors and these removed the need to identify work for a paymaster. Masons' marks have continued to be used for stone buildings up to the present day, although the marked faces have been invisible in the finished structures since the 18th century in most cases.    

Signed, as opposed to marked, tombs occur first in the 16th century, and by the early 17th century masons’ signatures had gained popularity, or acceptance by patrons. At first the form was mostly that found at Kilmaurs where an inscription identifies the tomb to the maker and is hardly sophisticated work. Monuments made after c.1600 that are signed reveal a much higher level of education, such as those by Epiphanius Evesham who was signing monuments at this date with ‘EVESHAM ME FECIT’. There is a marked difference between his elegant cursive script and the clumsy efforts of Scougal and certain English tomb-makers, such as John Gildon from Hereford.

   Scougal's work shows evidence of a period of transition, with his name and claim of ownership on the Kilmaurs monument used together with his mark, but the mark used on its own for the slightly later tomb at Dunfermline. The use of prominently displayed marks in this way seems to have been a short-lived phase just before signed tombs became common but is paralleled in fireplace construction where masons' marks continued to be on which masons' marks can be seen. Please contact me on


JenniferAlexanderATwarwick.ac.uk (replace AT by @)    

Monument of the Earl and Countess of Glencairn in St Maurs, Kilmaurs           Mason's mark and signature of the Kilmaurs monument opposite

Further Reading

Aonghus Mackechnie, ‘James VI’s Architects and their Architecture’, in Julian Goodacre and Michael Lyn(eds), The Reign of James VI, (East Linton, 2000), pp. 154 – 169, at

Richard Fawcett, Scottish Medieval Churches, Architecture and Furnishings, (Stroud, 2002).

Dr Jenny Alexander January 2011

 2011 March

Two wooden Epitaphien from Königsberg

In many German churches there are circular mediaeval wall tablets, depicting a coat of arms with a memorial inscription; they are real church monuments, not funeral paraphernalia like English hatchments.  They were often set up in conjunction with a floor slab, and are usually called Epitaphien, “memorials above the tomb”.  These two examples were salvaged from the ruins of Königsberg Cathedral, which was burnt out in 1945, and remained exposed to the elements for sixty years before being restored; they are now displayed in the museum rooms in the south tower.  Each one shows a shield of arms, with helmet and crest, and very elaborately carved mantling.  The work is delicately done, in lime or some such close-grained wood, and although they are broken, and the backing boards mostly lost, they do not appear to have suffered from fire or water.

   

The first one is to Gesueren von ---, 1520; the shield bears a wheel, the crest is missing; it is set on a replacement circular board with an incised inscription in Fraktur, Anno Domini 1520 Am Tag Diese Math --- --- Gesueren Von --- --- den Gott Gnad --- Des Hochlaystelzen Ritterließen ---.    







The second, to --- von Wilma, 1520, has both shield and crest of a boar’s head, set on a replacement circular board (except for the top dexter area which is original), with an incised inscription in Fraktur:  Anno 20 Ist der Erbar und ser Rath und Lieberhet Von Wilma in Verbunden.  The inscriptions were presumably copied from a pre-war source, the Gesueren one already damaged or illegible in parts.


These are the beginning of a tradition which was to flourish in the early modern period, as ever larger and more and more elaborate Epitaphien appeared all over the walls of many Baltic churches, some with painted figures of the family of the deceased kneeling in rows.  They continued to be made into the nineteenth century, the inscriptions nearly always in German, though there is one in Russian in the Castle Museum in Rīga.  These two are all that remain of many that were once in Königsberg, to judge by old photographs.  But Königsberg, which was once the capital of Prussia, was very severely damaged in the second world war, and the population of the entire province was exterminated.  It was resettled with Russians, and renamed Kaliningrad for no better reason than that Marshal Kalinin happened to die just as they were debating what to call the new city.  For decades it was a closed city, being an important strategic base, but now left behind as a tidal pool of history, inhabited only by rather melancholy displaced Russians.  For their regular worship the people throng to the new Orthodox churches, and they have no use for a Gothic Lutheran cathedral, but the building is re-roofed and restored as a concert hall, with tiny Orthodox and Lutheran chapels in the bases of the towers.  While they are obviously concerned about the remaining artefacts from the Cathedral, including its church monuments, it is rather too late to salvage more than fragments such as these.


Jerome Bertram   

2011 April

Monument of the Month - April 2011

Abbot Adam of Carmarthen, Neath Abbey South Wales

The monument traditionally ascribed to Adam of Carmarthen, Abbot of the Cistercian abbey of Neath from c.1266-1289, lies in the ruins of his house, described by Leland in the 1530s as the fairest in all Wales. It is a badly damaged monument, broken into three at the neck and knees, and worn by many years’ exposure to the weather in a nearby field, although currently housed in the undercroft. It is a large, high relief, recumbent figure, probably carved in Dundry stone imported from the Bristol region. The head of the figure is bare and lies on a single diagonal cushion, flanked by what appear to be censing angels, now practically obliterated. The abbot holds his arms close to his sides. The right forearm has disappeared, but the left arm holds an oblong, gabled object, which has been interpreted as both an open book and as a church.[1] Given that Abbot Adam initiated Neath’s splendid Decorated-style rebuilding in the late-thirteenth century, later so admired by Leland, the latter might seem the most likely option. The front of the torso is worn smooth but the drapery at the sides of the figure falls in flat, regular folds to the feet where it lies in ripples at the hem. The figure’s left foot is the only one remaining, and appears to be resting on the crouching figure of a monk, an unusual feature.


Although now quite difficult to interpret and appreciate – stemming not just from the wear it has suffered, but also from the gloom of its current surroundings - it does not take much imagination to realise that this was once a finely-carved and imposing monument. Neath was one of the wealthiest religious houses in Wales, but the Cistercian order discouraged funerary ostentation and Abbot Adam’s memorial is  not in the least reflective of the humility expected of the order. The cross-slab of Abbot Robert of Rievaulx, who died while visiting nearby Margam Abbey at the beginning of the fourteenth century, is far more fitting with Cistercian ideals, suggesting that the regard felt for Abbot Adam amongst his community must have been great indeed.


It is not known when Abbot Adam’s monument was thrown out from the abbey into the nearby field, but presumably it was some time in the sixteenth or seventeenth century when the church buildings were allowed to fall into ruin. Similarly, the motivations behind the act are not easy to fathom: was it an act of iconoclasm, or an attempt to remove it from the attentions of vandals and thus protect it? The breaking off of the head and feet (which rest, it may be remembered, on the figure of a monk) although conceivably an act of iconoclasm, may also be explained as the action of freeze-thaw weathering while exposed to the elements. If iconoclasts were responsible for the damage it is strange that the broken-off portions were not discarded, yet they remained aligned with the rest of the body.


The monument remained in the field until at least the latter part of the nineteenth century and was subsequently removed into the more protected position of the undercroft. This, unfortunately, was not the end of its travails, and a recent tormentor has appeared in the unexpected form of the BBC. Neath Abbey undercroft is now in demand as a set for episodes of the BBC Wales productions Dr Who and Merlin. Lying in the centre of the undercroft, Abbot Adam was judged to be in the way and has been moved to the edge of the room along with other fragments of medieval sculpture which are kept there. In doing so he has been disarticulated so that the head and feet have been removed from the body and the integrity of the figure has been lost. It is sincerely to be hoped that the original position and condition of this beautiful example of medieval sculpture will be remembered and that it will be restored accordingly.  


[1] David Lewis, ‘Notes on the Charters of Neath Abbey’, Archaeologia Cambrensis, vol. 4, 5th series (1887), pp. 86-115, at p. 101;

Peter Lord, The Visual Culture of Wales: Medieval Vision (Cardiff, 2003), p. 333.


Rhianydd Biebrach PhD


2011 May

Sir John Newdigate, 1610, Harefield, Middlesex



The monument of Sir John Newdigate at Harefield, Middlesex, takes a common form for a mural monument of the period, that of husband and wife kneeling under a plain round arch, facing each other over a prayer desk, their children kneeling below, two sons facing three daughters with a prayer desk between them. The spandrels of the arch have the arms of Newdigate and Fitton on hanging shields with loops of ribbons around them. Above the keystone is a cherub head with wings either side and the tablet is surmounted by an achievement of nine quarters in a roundel topped by an hourglass. The materials from which the monument is made are also common for the period, mostly alabaster but enhanced with imported black and pink marble. Some parts, however, are a little less usual. Sir John's name and date of burial, 12 April 1610, are on a scroll rather than part of the main inscription. The scroll is set over the two main figures and below it, above the prayer desk, is a winged skull with a second hourglass set on it. At either end of the cornice are black marble blocks, on the front faces of which are crests. These blocks presumably once had obelisks standing on them but they are rather larger than is necessary just for that purpose. The tablet's apron, on which is the inscription panel is terminated at either side by large S-shaped foliate scrolls and has strapwork along its lower edge. Depending from it is a shield with twenty-two quarters on it, set on an an oval with a lower termination of strapwork, which looks forward to similar features on mid C17 monuments. So, while the monument is in many ways typical of its time, it is also distinctive in others.    

The monument was erected by Ann Fitton, Sir John's widow, whose agreement with the sculptor William White was recorded by Lady Anne Emily Garnier Newdigate-Newdegate in her 1897 book, Gossip from a muniment-room: being passages in the lives of Anne and Mary Fitton, 1574 to 1618. Unfortunately Lady  Newdigate-Newdegate gave very few details other than the date of the agreement, 1614, and that it was on parchment. Its current whereabouts are unknown. William White is equally unknown but was undoubtedly a very competent London sculptor.  


 The main inscription is both Latin and English, the English verses to the right of the Latin equivalent:

Here wisdomes jewell, Knighthoods flower

Cropt off in prime & youthfull hower

Religion, meekness faithfull love

Which any hart might inly moove

These ever liv'd in this Knights brest

Dead in his death wth him doth rest.

So that the marble selfe doth weepe

To think on that wch it doth Keepe   

Weep then who ere this Stone doth see,   

Unless more hard then Stone thou bee.


Two earlier monuments have closely related verse epitaphs. That to Sir Martin Culpeper, died 1604, at Feckenham, Worcestershire, both begins and ends with the final couplet of the Harefield version and omits the couplet before that, while the epitaph of Mary Plomer, died 1605, at Radwell, is adapted to suit her (Vertues Jewel, Beauties Flower) and omits the third couplet of the Harefield version. While it is possible that these verses were ones that occur only on monuments by William White, comparisons between these three monuments are rendered difficult by the dismemberment of the Feckenham example – the effigies are said to be buried beneath the church floor – and the very different form of Mary Plomer's standing wall monument – she is seated holding a dead baby (and an hourglass!). Her  six sons and five daughters are arranged in the same way as those at Harefield.but don't appear to be by the same hand.  


The phenomenon of marble weeping, as the epitaphs at Harefield, Radwell and a number of others mention, is one that I have seen myself only once. On a visit to St Peter's church, North Barningham, Norfolk, I found all the black marble components of three monuments of the first half of the C17 in were absolutely covered with drops of water.    

Jon Bayliss


2011 June

 The joint tomb of João I of Portugal (d. 1433) and his queen, Philippa of Lancaster (d. 1415)


Founder’s Chapel, monastery of Our Lady of Victory, in Batalha, Portugal

João I of Portugal (d. 1433) and his queen, Philippa of Lancaster (d. 1415) were founders of the Avisian royal line, the second to rule in Portugal.  


In the first decades of the fifteenth century, for the first time in the history of the Portuguese royal family a funerary chapel was conceived and purposely built as a royal pantheon. Significantly, João I (r. 1385-1433) had ascended to the throne not through direct descent but by appointment by parliament (the cortes), and force of arms – namely following his victory at the battle of Aljubarrota against Juan I, king of Castile, whose wife, Beatriz, was the sole legitimate heir to the Portuguese throne. The innovative dispositions made by João I concerning his burial place provide evidence for a sense of statesmanship that derives from this, and was thus first played out in his reign.


Other contemporary factors seem also to have helped promote the tomb’s unprecedented grandeur. These were indeed new times, when a political and institutional message was purposely and carefully formulated, as befitted the founders of a dynasty whose aims included sustaining and emphasising its links with the past. This new dynasty was also one imbued with new principles and values. In fact, royal funerals tended to become, from João’s reign, richer and more complex affairs, thus showing the increasing awareness of the importance of such ceremonies, as well as their potential to demonstrate the magnificence and exceptional character of monarchical power and, indeed, of the monarch himself.


Accordingly, the description made by chroniclers of João I’s death is the epitome of the ‘good death’ on one’s deathbed, infused with ritual and symbolism. As such, it functions as a reference point for the royal family and the court. The act of dying, in the way it is described, therefore resonates with the new outlines of royal commemoration, in the shape of João’s most personal architectural project: a funerary chapel within the monastery he had erected to honour St Mary the Virgin, summoned for protection on the eve of the battle of Aljubarrota. This cannot be separated from the rising notion that the dynasty he heralded was divinely consecrated.

  



The options taken in the conception and design of João I and Philippa’s memorial are its other major novelty. The tomb is composed of a large, box-shaped, limestone chest, supported by eight lion statues and covered by a lid on which the effigies of the royal couple rest. Two extensive epitaphs, commissioned by their son, Duarte (r. 1433-8), garnish two of the sides of the tomb chest. No decorative elements appear on the chest apart from these inscriptions, except for foliage and heraldry (of the kingdom of Portugal, of the Order of the Garter and, at intervals, the badges of João and Philippa).


Moreover, this is – strictly speaking – the first joint tomb chest ever to have appeared in Portugal. Such innovation, further to the tomb’s commemorative and laudatory aspects, also helps explain its exceptionally grand dimensions – 148″ long x 67″ wide x 42″ tall (375 x 170 x 184 cm). The processes of development this tomb exemplifies cannot be seen separately from earlier joint tombs in Portugal. In spite of each being devised as one single undertaking, these tombs were in fact sculpted and displayed individually. The model used for João I and Philippa – a single compartment covered with a lid featuring the two effigies – is, however, an absolute novelty, and most likely the result of influences from abroad; namely from England, as some scholars have suggested, considering the well-known cultural role that Phillipa played. Besides, the need to find a more unusual model for the burial place of the founders of Portugal’s new royal dynasty may also have lain on the need to assert the independence of the kingdom and the dynasty, in particular from Castile.

   

What might appear as the lessening of the king’s and queen’s individuality is offset by the construction of a message which surpassed the sense of the individual’s confrontation with death, and might achieve great political impact. Hence, this is not so much a discourse where the believer has stepped forward, supported by his intercessors, to face the Last Judgement, exercising one’s own virtues and social position, as seems to have been the case with earlier, fourteenth-century, tomb art. Rather, death itself is here taken hold of as an occasion for propaganda; as the ultimate expression of the royal couple’s role as founders of a new age and the guarantors of an illustrious progeny. João and Philippa are shown hand in hand – yet again, it would appear, denoting English inspiration. King and queen trace for themselves an image of perfect marital union, exemplifying a model of virtue that (as in many other respects) seems to have been set as an example for others to follow.


Notwithstanding the queen’s representation as a virtuous and pious woman (her left hand holding a prayer book), she is somewhat overshadowed by the way the king presents himself, due to the meaningful and innovative character of his effigy. Unlike earlier Portuguese tombs, whose model was non-military, João I is depicted as a soldier-king, fully clad in armour. He had ensured independence from Castile and the continuance of the Portuguese kingdom, and had conquered Ceuta, which stood as a symbol of an expansionist policy and of the struggle against Islam, now carried out beyond the borders of the Iberian Peninsula. Certainly, he is the image of a miles christianus, the bold warrior and defender of Faith, who emerges both as a reference to victories won over the Muslims in north Africa in the onset of the Portuguese expansion, and also thinks back to a mindset which, belatedly, sought to recover chivalric and crusading ideals.

The non-existence of overt religious references in the tomb’s decoration (although we must not forget the altar which originally stood by the tomb) should not therefore be mistaken for an absence of religious meaning in the ensemble. Rather, such meaning is balanced with the underlying message in the construction of the king’s image as a model of militant Christianity. Further to this, some influence of a chivalric kind might also be perceived in the tomb’s iconography. Thus, be it through heraldry, the military character of his effigy, or the inscription recalling his most prominent deeds, João I is memorialised, in his tomb, through his achievements.


As follows, the apparatus surrounding the conception of João I’s burial place is a clear reflection of his rule while king, guided by two fundamental aspects: the assertion of royal authority and the establishment of an atmosphere of prestige surrounding the new dynasty, associating it with a divinely conferred image of authenticity – unpolluted, charismatic and nationalistic. On the one hand, foreign influences were adhered to and adapted. On the other, there is a sense of continuity from the local tomb art of the past, noticeable in Philippa’s effigy. That the tomb was (to our belief) the work of a Portuguese artist probably favoured this conservatism, framed by traditional practices and the customs of the land, but which all the same took absolutely innovative models as inspiration.

   

 The monument to the founder king and queen of Portugal’s second dynasty is in many ways a turning point of great significance and innovation. Entirely original in its form, the tomb of João I and his Lancastrian wife would truly become a model for Portuguese tomb art in the fifteenth century, inspiring both monuments for other couples and for other knights individually, which from this point onwards always appear with a distinct military character.


Further reading:

● Coelho, Maria Helena de Cruz, D. João I, Rio de Mouro: Círculo de Leitores, 2005;

● Silva, José Custódio Vieira da; Redol, Pedro, The Monastery of Batalha, Lisbon: Instituto Português do Património Arquitectónico/London: Scala Publishers, 2007;

● Silva, José Custódio Vieira da; Ramôa, Joana, ‘O Retrato de D. João I no Mosteiro de Santa Maria da Vitória’, Revista de História da Arte, vol. 5, Lisbon: Instituto de História da Arte da Faculdade de Ciências Sociais e Humanas da Universidade Nova de Lisboa, 2008, pp. 77-95;

● Sousa, Armindo de, A morte de D. João I: um tema de propaganda dinástica, Porto: Centro de Estudos Humanísticos, 1984;

Copyright: Joana Ramôa

Photographs by permission of José Custódio Vieira da Silva   


 2011 July  


  ‘Today and not tomorrow’

 Doctor James Vaulx and his two wives Editha and Philip   St Mary’s Church, Meysey Hampton   

 


In the small Norman church of St Mary at Meysey Hampton (sometimes Maisey) in Gloucestershire is the charming painted limestone mural monument to Dr James Vaulx and his two wives Editha and Philip.   Like many monuments in churches it is no longer in its original position.  Today it stands in the south transept where it was moved from the chancel around 1872.  Described in The Buildings of England as ‘an elaborate and striking provincial monument’ it embodies many of the features that make monument viewing so fascinating.   As noted in a recent publication it is often the grand and sophisticated monuments that command the most attention.  But for many people, especially the casual visitor, it is this type of arresting and enigmatic monument that makes their visit memorable and enjoyable.


Within the arches of the monument are three full-size half-length portrait effigies.  The doctor is in the middle flanked by his wives.  He wears a doctor’s gown over a doublet.  His hair is curly and he is shown with a pointed beard and a long moustache.    Edith(a) Jenner (d.1617) is to his right and Philip(e) Horton (d.1631) to his left.  Editha is turned slightly towards Dr Vaulx while Philip looks ahead.   Dr Vaulx and Editha are associated with skulls, a conventional way to indicate they were dead when the monument was erected.  Dr Vaulx and Philip have books signifying learning.   Philip also holds an open pomander to ward off infection.  Possibly she is still following her husband’s advice.

Beneath each wife are grouped small effigies of their children.  Twelve are beneath Editha including the eldest son Francis who, the only Latin sentence states, was responsible for the erection of the monument, while beneath Philip are her four children.   A number of the children are shown in beds, at least one covered in a pall, an indication that some had predeceased their father.  Indeed the death of a daughter is mentioned in the inscription above Philip.

At the time the monument was erected around 1630 inscriptions had become more numerous and biographical and, with improving literacy, in English.   Here there are four, one of which informs us that Dr Vaulx was ‘That famous practitioner in Physicke & Chirurgery James Vaulx Esquire who deceased March 17th 1626 to the generall losse of the whole Countrey....’.   His fame was such that it is said he was consulted by James I who thought about appointing him his own royal physician.  On enquiring how he had obtained his knowledge and healing art the Doctor replied, ‘By practice’. The King rejoined, ‘Then by my saul thou hast killed money a man, thou shalt na’practise upon me’.   Was the doctor qualified?  No qualifications have been traced and his name does not appear in the Roll of the College of Physicians.  


The legacies of the two defining movements that altered church monuments in the sixteenth century are evident.  The influence of the Renaissance can be seen in the pose and demeanour of the effigies, the three coffered arches, winged cherub heads, composite columns and Virtues.   Virtues were a product of the Reformation, when overly Christian symbolism was suspect, and became a popular method of illustrating the deceased’s exemplary character.  Stemming from ancient pagan cultures the most common were the four Cardinal Virtues, Fortitude, Justice, Prudence and Temperance, and the three Theological virtues of Hope, Faith and Charity.

Although it is not uncommon to find Virtues on monuments of this period it is not so common to find all seven represented as here.  The four Cardinal Virtues form one row on the pediment with the Theological Virtues above.  Following 1 Corinthians 13:13 ’And now abideth faith, hope and charity, these three; but the greatest of these is charity’ (King James Bible).  Charity, with her children, occupies the apex of the monument.    Each Virtue is identified by its attribute many of which are now damaged (some within the twentieth century).


Chivalry and family lineage were of great importance as symbols of social status to those who  commissioned  monuments.  This monument includes an esquire’s helmet incorporating a motto ‘Hodie et non cras’, (today and not tomorrow) and six heraldic shields.  One of these appears to indicate a prior marriage to a lady of the name of Young but no details of this marriage have been found.   We are left with the intriguing questions of whether Dr Vaulx was qualified and how many wives he actually had.


The monument is painted although there is considerable flaking.  During conservation in 2001 nine paint samples from various parts of the monument were analysed.  It was concluded that there were at least two colour schemes which resulted in a change of colour to some of the features.  For instance, the robe of Fortitude had changed from blue to red.


As with so many monuments it is not an end in itself but a link in a chain and great fun can be had in trying to trace the interrelations between families.  Dr Vaulx’s last wife Philip is not buried with him as she subsequently married a Baynham (an illustrious local family).   When she died in 1631 her then husband placed a laudatory epitaph on her gravestone in St James Church, Staunton (then in Worcs. but now in Glos.).


She also appears amongst the three kneeling daughters on the monument of her father, William Horton (d.1615) also in St James Church.   Thus she is commemorated on three different memorials.

Joan and Robert Tucker


2011 August

 

The Bourchier Monuments in St Andrew’s Church, Halstead (Essex)

St Andrew’s chapel in the south aisle of the church contains the freestone effigies of a knight and lady installed beneath a tall, heraldic canopy with matching ‘tomb-chest’ panels. The canopy, described by Pevsner as ‘of a chaste, rather frigid design’, has a row of seven pendant shields above the arch, an upper register of small shields around the cornice, and singles set in the arch spandrels. The canopy and ‘tomb-chest’ are executed in chalk (commonly called clunch), a relatively soft stone, and the heraldic content is lost except for the single, large shields on the east and west sides of the canopy. Both display a cross engrailed between four water-bouchets (buckets), for Bourchier. The north-east ‘tomb-chest’ panel contains an angel and shell, the latter thought to be a rebus for the Coggeshall family. In the absence of an epitaph and further heraldry, the juxtaposition of the shell and Bourchier arms is the basis of the traditional identification of the effigies as those of John Bourchier, second Lord Bourchier (d. 1400), and his wife, Elizabeth Coggeshall.


John Bourchier was the son of Robert, Lord Bourchier (d. 1349), a confidant of Edward III who fought at Crécy (1346) and was briefly chancellor of England (1340-1). John served in France during the 1350s and 60s, was captive from 1372 to1378, and later made governor of Flanders (1384) and Knight of the Garter (1399). In 1341 Robert received a licence to found a college in the town of Halstead of eight chaplains, and to secure land and rent worth 20 marks p.a. ‘out of the abundance of the king’s affections’. In 1412 a licence was granted to Robert de Clifford, bishop of London and several local landowners to found a college of five chaplains in Halstead church to pray for the souls of Robert and John Bourchier and their wives, called ‘Bourghchiereschantrie’. The college was to be endowed with 702 acres of land, 71 acres of pasture, 57 acres of wood, 29 acres of meadow, rental income of  £5 13s. 6d. a year, and the living of the nearby church of Sible Hedingham in the manor of the first lord’s wife, Margaret Preyers.  

The male figure has a helm headrest with Saracen’s head crest, and originally had the Bourchier arms carved in low relief on its chest. The mitten gauntlets are unusual. The lady wears a gown, mantle and distinctive nebuly headdress, and has twin dogs as footrest. Traces of red colour on the hem of the lady’s robe suggest the carvings were brightly painted. The treatment of both effigies is formulaic: the armour of the male figure is typical of the period 1370-1400, while the nebuly headdress first appeared in English funerary monuments as early as the 1360s. The costume evidence, therefore, does not provide conclusive proof of the identity of the effigies, which may in any case have been commissioned during Robert Bourchier’s lifetime. The canopy and ‘tomb-chest’ appear to date from the mid- to late-fifteenth century, and may not belong. They were installed with the effigies before 1629, when the monument was drawn by an unnamed herald.

At least two other Bourchier monuments lie nearby. Immediately to the east are the effigies of a knight and lady carved from a single slab, together with fragments of a tomb chest. The knight’s armour and the v-shaped folds of the lady’s robes suggest the effigies date from before 1320. They may those of the first lord’s parents, John de Bourchier (d. 1329) and Helen of Colchester, or indeed his grandparents, Sir Robert de Burser (d. 1301) and Emma. The tomb-chest fragments feature mourners and pendant shields within quatrefoils, and do not belong to the effigies, for the original tomb-chest was significantly longer than the effigy slab. The shields probably served to identify the mourners as well as the deceased. The surviving arms are Bourchier and Munchensy, the latter a reference to Helen of Colchester, daughter of Joan de Munchensy of Stansted Hall. The third Bourchier monument, lying to the north of the altar of St Andrew, is the brass of Barthlomew, Lord Bourchier (d. 1409) and his two wives, Margaret Sutton (left) and Idonea Lovey (right), made by the London ‘B’ workshop. Bartholomew was the son of the second lord Bourchier, and the last senior Bourchier to be buried at Halstead.

In 1631 the antiquarian John Weever recorded that a chapel stood on the south side of the Halstead ‘Quire’ called ‘Bowser’s Chapell’ housing a number of Bourchier monuments, including that of the  first lord. It is not clear whether Weever meant the present chapel or the south side of the Halstead chancel; whatever their original position all of the present monuments have been moved and modified. Most of the displacement took place during the eighteenth century, a period which saw widespread remodelling of the east end of churches, great and small, and the displacement of medieval monuments. The first lord’s tomb was all but destroyed by 1806 when the Rev. D. T. Powell sketched fragments of his effigy. Powell also recorded that the twin effigy slab in the south-east corner of the chapel had been inverted, lowered into the chancel floor, and used as pavement. The canopy above the effigies of the second lord and his wife shows extensive signs of reconstruction, and has lost the foliate cusping of the cornice and the micro-vault beneath its arch. Bartholomew Bourchier’s brass was originally installed on a panelled heraldic tomb-chest, also lost.


The Halstead medieval monuments belong to a broader group of Bourchier tombs housed in a number of English churches, including those of Eleanor, Lady Bourchier (d. 1397) at Little Easton; Henry Bourchier, earl of Essex (d. 1483) at Little Easton, originally at Beeleigh Abbey, near Maldon; Elizabeth, Lady Robessart (d.1433) at Westminster Abbey, and Thomas Bourchier, archbishop of Canterbury (d.1486), in Canterbury Cathedral. Their number and geographical diversity is testimony to the aggrandisement of this Essex gentry family. There are also exemplars for a common theme in the understanding of medieval church monuments: what we see today is often far from what was intended.


Mark Duffy


2011 September


Two Monuments in Bedfordshire

On my recent survey of some north Bedfordshire churches I visited All Saints, Odell where, in the chancel, there is a large late 17th century monument to the Alston family. The Buildings of England has this to say about it:  


"To the Alston family, probably of 1678. Large richly decorated tablet with open pediment. By the same hand as the monument of 1678 at Bletsoe."

This piqued my interest and as Bletsoe is only about 6 kilometres away from Odell I included Bletsoe on my itinerary later in the afternoon. Pevsner's comments prompted two questions. Are both monuments by the same hand? What is the family connection?

The Alston monument at Odell is located on the north wall of the chancel. It commemorates several generations of the Alston family starting with Frances (d. 1644) and her son William (d. 1637), continuing through to Vere John Alston (d. 1762), rector of Odell. The monument is fairly large and is made of white marble in three main sections. At the centre is an inscription plate divided in two with the text in black. This is flanked by pilasters adorned at the top with winged putti and pendants of foliage, flowers and ribbons terminated with tassels. The base consists of a central panel with a pair of shields in cartouches suspended from swags that are tied at the centre and at the sides to two consoles upon which are gadrooned urns with swags. The sub-base is decorated with reliefs of foliage, ribbons, and two horizontal volutes. The superstructure is dominated by an open pediment set against a semi-circular background with raised rim which is adorned with three winged putti. At the centre of the pediment is an achievement decorated with fronds and displaying the arms of Alston, azure ten etoiles or, four, three, two and one. Underneath is inscribed the prominent motto IMMOTUS. At the base of the pediment are two rectangular blocks with shields decorated with ribbons all in shallow relief. The shield on the left displays the arms of Alston impaling Blomfield and the shield on the right displays the arms of Alston impaling St John.

Apart from the text none of the monument has any paintwork. The shields in the base are blank and may have always been so. There is no clear indication of when the monument was erected, but the style of the various sections of text give a clue. The earliest inscription is on the left-hand panel with the latest date being that of Sir Thomas Alston, 1678. This is the longest of the inscriptions. Below this is the inscription of his wife Elizabeth who died in 1677. On the right hand panel the text starts with Sir Rowland Alston who died in 1697. The text is very similar in style to the left-hand panel, although the numerals are different. The inscriptions below this are by an entirely different hand. It seems reasonable to assume that the monument was erected in 1678, or just after, and the same man cut the 1697 inscription. Perhaps he was getting on in years because he made a mistake which he subsequently corrected; "ELIZABETH wife" being changed to "ELIZABETH his wife". Supporting the 1678 date is the fact that each panel is surmounted by shields representing the earlier marriages, those of Alston and Blomfield and Alston and St John. Sir Rowland Alston married Temperance Crewe in c.1676 and the Crewe arms do not appear anywhere on the monument. It would appear that the layout was perhaps originally designed for an inscription to Frances Alston (née Blomfield, d.1644) and her son William (1609-1637) on the left panel and Thomas (her other son) and Elizabeth (née St John) on the right. A distinct left/right heraldic grouping appears at Bletsoe as we will see.

The monument at Bletsoe is inscribed to Lady Elizabeth Cavendish (Countess Bolingbroke) and can be found in the north transept of the church. This was turned into the family chapel of the St Johns and contains many minor wall tablets and four hatchments. The Cavendish monument is mounted on the east wall of the transept and is very similar to the Alston monument. The overall design is the same but some of the details are different: the urns are flaming urns, there are remains of gold paint in various locations, the putti in the superstructure are inside the rim of the semi-circular background, the blocks beneath the pediment contain crests not shields, and the shields in the base have been painted. Lady Elizabeth's inscription is on the right-hand panel and the shield below is painted with the arms of her family, Sable three Bucks' Heads cabossed Argent (Newcastle). Above the text is the crest of Newcastle, a Serpent nowed proper. The left-hand panel is blank and the shield is charged with the arms of St John, Argent, on a chief gules, two mullets or, while the block above the text has the crest of St John. It is clear that the blank left-hand panel was intended for her husband, Oliver 2nd Earl of Bolingbroke who died in 1688. The achievement at the top is Newcastle impaling St John. The lettering of the inscription is totally different to that found on the Alston monument and gives the first clue that these two monuments are not by the same hand.

Close examination of both monuments reveals the detailing to be distinctly different. The putti heads and wings on the Alston monument are styled differently and are somewhat coarser in execution, lacking irises and having less detailed hair and feathers. The ribbons and drapery, however, have surface detailing on them whereas they are carved flat on the Cavendish. Generally the Cavendish has a blunter appearance, made up for somewhat by originally highlighting some of the details in gold paint, most of which has now flaked off. It may be that there was one designer for both monuments and they were carved by different sculptors at the same workshop. It could also be that one is a copy of the other by a different workshop, although the close parallels in design and the close timing of their manufacture tend to dictate against this. The design and layout suggests a usage as seen in the Cavendish example with one person commemorated on each inscription panel and the arms of the respective person appearing below. In this respect the Alston monument may have been selected after the Cavendish had been erected - but that is pure speculation. It might be that the design is off-the-peg, in which case it is tempting to think there may be other examples. Both monuments appear to have been erected shortly after 1678, but without documentary evidence it is not possible to say anything further.

William Alston bought the manors of Great and Little Odell in 1633. As he had no issue on his death in 1638 they passed to his brother Thomas who was subsequently created a baronet in 1642. Thomas no doubt commissioned the monument at Odell.  

Elizabeth Cavendish was the youngest daughter of William Cavendish, 1st Duke of Newcastle-upon-Tyne, a famous polymath and grandson of Bess of Hardwick. Her mother was Elizabeth, William's first wife. Frances or her husband considered her illustrious family's name to be far more important than her married name as the inscription styles her "The Lady Frances Cavendish youngest daughter to his excellency William late Duke of Newcastle, wife to Oliver Earle of Bolingbrooke".


 

The connection between the two families is from the marriage of Thomas Alston to Elizabeth St John. Oliver 2nd Earl of Bolingbroke was a first cousin once removed of Elizabeth, as can be seen in the simplified family tree.

A last word may be said on the condition of the monuments. The Alston is in good condition and is located in a well cared for environment. The Cavendish is in reasonable condition although it displays staining from the iron fastenings that fix it to the wall. The conditions in the transept are not good as it is dirty, dusty and there are water stains on the walls. The area is used for storage and on my visit the monument was partially hidden behind a stack of desks. In recent years the monument to St John St John (d. 1559) was moved into the nave where it is in fine condition. It can only be hoped that conditions improve in future for the remaining monuments in the transept.     

Bibliography

Cracroft's Peerage On-line: http://www.cracroftspeerage.co.uk/  

Pevsner, N, The Buildings of England: Bedfordshire, Huntingdonshire & Peterborough, 1968

Wikipedia: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/William_Cavendish,_1st_Duke_of_Newcastle-upon-Tyne

William Page (editor), Victoria County History: A History of the County of Bedford: Volume 3, 1912  

Cameron Newham