"Like most people remembered in memorial brasses, Elizabeth Etchingham and Agnes Oxenbridge were well born, both daughters of gentry families with properties in Sussex, Kent, and beyond. Their homes were close by, and like others of their status, they were probably raised at home until adolescence and then placed for several years in another elite household; they would certainly have known each other in childhood, and they easily could have lived for several years in the same household.
Both would have been expected to marry in their late teens or twenties, although a few well-born daughters (about one in every twenty) did not marry, by choice or happenstance. Only a handful entered nunneries; the rest, supported by modest bequests from their parents, passed their lives as dependents within their families. Usually identified as “maidens” or “singlewomen,” they paid their own way in both coin and family service.
Contemporary records offer no further information about Elizabeth Etchingham and Agnes Oxenbridge, and like other maidens, they were quickly effaced in family memory. Everything we know comes from the memorial itself. The brass offers two clear indications that both were never-married: no husbands are mentioned in their inscriptions, and the uncovered heads—and, in the case of Elizabeth Etchingham, long f lowing hair—of their effigies were conventional signs of maidenhood. Elizabeth Etchingham was likely born in the 1420s and died by her mid-twenties; Agnes Oxenbridge was also likely born in the 1420s and was in her fifties when she died, almost three decades after Elizabeth Etchingham.
Although Elizabeth Etchingham’s burial in her family church in 1452 was unremarkable, the internment in 1480 of Agnes Oxenbridge next to her, rather than in her family mausoleum at Brede, was exceptional.
The heads of both families must have agreed to the unusual arrangements of 1480—Thomas Etchingham II (Elizabeth’s brother) accepting the burial of an Oxenbridge woman in his family church, and Robert Oxenbridge III allowing his sister to lie away from their family vault. But it is unlikely that either brother instigated this unusual commemoration; instead, Agnes Oxenbridge herself probably requested it, as was then the custom, in a deathbed will that no longer survives. Of course, Agnes Oxenbridge’s instructions could have been ignored, modified, or poorly implemented, so the actual execution of the Etchingham-Oxenbridge monument relied on a collaboration involving the man in whose church it was to be laid (Thomas Etchingham II), her survivors (especially Robert Oxenbridge III), and the London workshop that got the commission (denoted as workshop F by students of brass styles). As a product of so much collective effort, this memorial brass to two women must have been a scandal to no one at the time.
It nevertheless presented some creative challenges. First, the designers had to determine how to place the two effigies, given that most joint monuments commemorated married couples. Elizabeth Etchingham was assigned the conventional spot for husbands (the left, as viewed by observers), perhaps because the brass was destined for her family church, because her family was of more ancient origin, or because her smaller effigy presented less insult to husbandly prerogatives. Second, the designers had to distinguish a young, nubile maiden from her middle-aged counterpart. They used hairstyle and height to this end, differentiating the smaller maiden with youthful f lowing hair from her larger, coifed, and middle-aged companion.
Third, the designers had to express the relationship that caused these two women to be remembered together, and their decisions here are especially revealing. The design suggests that no one—not Agnes Oxenbridge in pre-mortem requests, not Thomas Etchingham II and Robert Oxenbridge III acting on her behalf, and not the artisans in the workshop—shied away from representing the two women as an intimate couple. Indeed, the monument seems to have been designed with special emphasis on their warm affection. This affection was suggested, of course, by the simple fact of their joint brass, for most brasses with multiple figures remembered married persons—a motif generally understood as celebrating the closeness and fidelity of marriage. But the designers of this brass pushed beyond mere joint commemoration in stressing intimacy, for Elizabeth Etchingham and Agnes Oxenbridge were also deliberately shown facing each other, moving towards each other, and looking directly into each other’s eyes.
Most contemporary joint effigies showed couples facing the front, much like bodies laid in tombs, but Elizabeth Etchingham and Agnes Oxenbridge were portrayed in semi-profile, turned towards each other. New and not yet standard, this pose derives partly from design developments extraneous to the specifics of this 1480 monument—particularly the patterns favored by workshop F and a desire to show in effigies the complex headdresses of the time. But the pose had an affective purpose too, for as Paul Binski has noted of other brasses, “the turning of figures on their axis enabled the intimacy of marriage to be expressed.” The designers of the Etchingham-Oxenbridge brass evoked intimacy by adopting this inward turn, and they emphasized it even more by eschewing two features common in other brasses of workshop F—a so-called “jaunty” leaning of the figures away from each other and a draping of women’s gowns in deep, immobilizing folds.Â
The effigies of Elizabeth Etchingham and Agnes Oxenbridge lack these distancing features and show, instead, the two women moving towards one another. As if to seal the affective power of the composition, the designers show Elizabeth Etchingham and Agnes Oxenbridge gazing directly into each other’s eyes, even though most married couples in contemporary brasses stare past each other into the distance. Their brass unmistakably evokes more intimacy and mutual affection than do most contemporary monuments of husbands and wives."
Bennett Judith M., "Remembering Elizabeth Etchingham and Agnes Oxenbridge", in: The Lesbian Premodern
Yes I know, I know, Mystryl is technically dead at this time, but she was still (as Mystra is now) the embodiment of the Weave, so I put her old symbol instead of the newest Mystra one, as a marker of Gale's love for magic, rather than Mystra herself.
And I've swapped the original design from Mucha to have a good view of the orb.
Others in the series can be found here :
Astarion as 'The North Star'
Shadowheart as 'The Moon'
Wyll as 'The Morningstar'
Lae'zel as 'The Comet'
Next (and last, for now), Karlach ❤️‍🔥 No idea when I'll get to her though ^^
Wuthering Heights is crazy because like every 3-5 pages there's lines like "i cannot live without my life! i cannot live without my soul" and "i've had loved the lad had he been someone else" and "we'll see if one tree won't grow as crooked as another" and "treachery and violence are spears pointed at both ends" and "i love my murderer — but yours! how can i?" and "if all else perished, and he remained, i should still continue to be; and if all else remained, and he were annihilated, the Universe would turn to a mighty stranger" and "i'd go stretch myself over her grave and die like a faithful dog"
Places in Dragon Age: Inquisition - The Emerald Graves
This forest in the Dales, once known as the Emerald March, is now the Emerald Graves. A tree grows here for every elven knight who died in the Dales, protecting the region from the humans during their Exalted March on the Dales.