Creating Edith Swanneck
Forming an impression of the 11th century Queen that never was.
How do you create an impression of a woman of historic importance, despite her being almost invisible to us?
Though we only possess fragmentary evidence of her life and absolutely no contemporary depictions of her personal appearance, it is safe to assume that Eadgifu the Fair, known to posterity as Edith Swanneck, would have been a present and key player in some of the most historic events of the 11th century, events that defined the future of England. Her long and abundant marriage to the last Saxon King - Harold Godwinson - counted for nothing in the eyes of the church; she never became Queen alongside him. But it does demonstrate that she provided a steadying presence throughout some of the most difficult moments in his life - banishment, betrayal, scandal, war and loss.
She is a woman who we know very little about, aside from basic facts. We know, for example, that she was an incredibly wealthy heiress to land in East Anglia in the 11th century, indicated by the Domesday book recordings taken after the Conquest of England. She had at least six children with Harold through which our own late Queen was linked to the Saxon Kings of Wessex. Renowned for her piety, some historical discourse suggests she was in fact the famous Walsingham Visionary (read Bill Flint’s ‘Edith the Fair’). She was incredibly beautiful, so much so that it was immortalised in Heinrich Heine’s poignant 19th century poem ‘Battlefield of Hastings’ in which it is said:
“Swan-necked, men named her for that erst, her neck of smoothest pearl, was swan-like arched - and Harold the king, he loved the comely girl’.
I find it fascinating, and sad, that Edith would have lived an eventful, remarkable life yet, as with so many female characters in the early medieval era, her voice has been lost to us. I suppose it was the sporadic, momentary appearance of Edith as either a footnote or background character at such a pivotal moment in history that peaked my interest in her life, and subsequently my desire to create an historic impression of her.
So. A woman with no voice of her own, no contemporary depictions and one that is almost never mentioned in discussion about the tumultuous events of her lifetime unless as a footnote to the story of great men. Not a promising start.
The task of any re-enactor when creating an impression of a real person is authenticity- being as true to the origin as possible in the way you source, produce and wear the clothing. Focusing on presenting the era and person authentically brings you closer to their story and to understanding their world, which any historian - academic or ‘living’ - should strive to achieve as much as possible.
This is of course something that is butchered repeatedly on TV - leather armour anyone? It is easily done, I suppose - when the evidence is lacking it is the more convenient option to give in to conjecture and delve into the realm of fantasy, making things up that fit in with modern perceptions of what we perhaps think they should have looked like. So creating the impression of a real, historically important, yet somewhat mysterious, figure was and continues to be somewhat challenging.
Where does that leave this impression? As with every reenactor’s impression repertoire, it’s a constant work in progress. However, some of what we know about the period more generally, combined with knowledge of Edith’s status, does help.
She was a powerful heiress in her own right with extensive lands and properties. As a wealthy noblewoman, she would have worn colours to show off her status. Deep, dark colours show an ability to afford material that required either a lot of dye, therefore costing more money, or was the first, and therefore most concentrated, fabric out of the dye pot. For Edith, I have chosen a deep blue, that would have been achieved with woad, and a deep burgundy red achieved by using madder root. Madder would have required an expensive mordant (or binding agent) to get it to ‘stick’ to the fabric, the most efficient mordant (alum) being particularly difficult to access in this period.
Edith was well known for her piety - a cross around her neck demonstrates her pious nature. A way to make this even more of a status symbol would be to wear a silver cross.
A white veil would not only ensure Edith was modestly dressed, as expected of her in England at this time, but white would also be a symbol of prestige; in an age without washing machines it was notoriously difficult to clean and maintain. Additionally, if you could keep it that way, you were clearly not labouring in the fields like a peasant.
A drawing from the Old English Hexateuch, available to view on the British Library online archive
And the golden headband? It is generally accepted that wealthy women of Saxon England at this time would have worn material bindes or headbands, likely embroidered with elaborate patterns and motifs. I have since created one myself, as it is a more widely accepted feature of fashion in this period.
However, within a particular 11th century translation of the Bible called the ‘Old English Hexateuch’ are over 400 colourful images drawn by the author, in the clothing style of their own time; namely the time in which Edith would have lived. What we see are both women and men on a number of occasions wearing golden bands around their heads. It is difficult to ascertain from a drawing what material these are made of, although from the symmetry and consistency of them it would be reasonable to assume they were some form of metal.
Would it therefore be total madness to suggest that a woman of nobility, like Edith, could have worn a metal circlet? It’s all a little bit of conjecture based on historical evidence, but for this particular impression, I ran with the idea.
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Those are the basics, at least, at the start of this ongoing recreation. But tweaks are inbound to enhance the status and prestige to match just how rich Edith truly was: embroidery on the cuffs and neckline; perhaps even small strips of silk imported from abroad; jewellery, would all achieve this. Yet, as a first attempt to create someone real, it has been a steep and enjoyable learning curve on the realities of how limited the evidence we have is, and the extent to which living historians must grapple with the eternal temptation to choose convenience over authenticity.
Written by @historywithjess