In the Vault Beneath: A georgian Mourning Ring Returns Home
A Georgian Mourning Ring and the Story of the Collins Family from Yeovil: A tale of love, loss, and craftsmanship in early 19th-century England
Some pieces of jewelry don’t just adorn — they tell entire life stories. This rare Georgian mourning ring is such a piece. A fine example of early 19th-century craftsmanship, it stands as a quiet monument to memory and devotion. Made of 18-carat gold and weighing five grams, it features a beautifully preserved enamel surround. At its heart lies intricately woven hair — a deeply personal detail, central to the mourning jewelry culture of the era. The enamel has survived in remarkable condition, lending the ring an air of timeless, almost ghostly elegance.
On the reverse of the ring’s head, an inscription reads: Elizh Collins Ob 18 Jan 1821 aet 67 — the life and death of Elizabeth Collins, captured in gold and hair.
But who was the woman whose hair this ring preserves?
Elizabeth Collins, née Windsor, was born around 1754 in the small market town of Yeovil, Somerset — a place still shaped by rural rhythms, even as revolution stirred across Europe. On December 26, 1775, 21-year-old Elizabeth married Henry Collins, two years her senior. Elizabeth and Henry had eight children: Martha, Mary, Susannah, Sarah, and the youngest — another Elizabeth.Their marriage not only marked the beginning of a large family but also brought them into one of the most flourishing industries of their time: glove making.
At the Yeovil Heritage Museum, I traced the Collins family’s footsteps. Ancient documents, diaries, maps, and artefacts pointed us to the Collins glove factory in Court Ash, a central street in Yeovil. In 1794, Henry Collins purchased Court Ash House — a nine-room residence first mentioned in 1725. At the turn of the 19th century, Yeovil was a booming glove-making hub, famed for its fine leather. The British Directory of 1797 lists an “extensive glove manufactory” in Yeovil producing around 300,000 pairs of gloves annually. In 1840, the Western Flying Post reported that Queen Victoria had chosen gloves from Yeovil for her wedding to Prince Albert — a symbolic gesture of royal support for British craftsmanship. It was a prosperous trade, and the Collins family thrived.
In spring 2025, I brought the ring — with Elizabeth’s hair — back to her hometown of Yeovil. Elizabeth Collins died on January 18, 1821, aged 67 — a remarkable age in an era when many women died young. She was buried at St. John’s Church, where her husband joined her six years later. Along with several of their children, they lie in a vault beneath the church’s central aisle.t was early May, but it felt like midsummer. The grounds around St. John's Church buzzed with life — people, dogs, the chaos of an ordinary day. Hardly the quiet, solemn atmosphere one might imagine. But then, as I pulled the ring from my pocket and it touched the light, the church bells began to ring — the timing felt uncanny, as if the bells were welcoming her home.
For the first time, I saw something new in the ring. The sunlight revealed the secret hidden inside: Elizabeth’s woven hair, gleaming not only blonde but with a distinct reddish hue. I had never noticed that before.
St. John's Church looks like something from another world. In many ways, it is. The world around it has changed. Court Ash House was home to several generations — until 1936, when it was torn down to make way for a cinema. Later, that cinema became a department store for the poor. The world changed, but the traces of Elizabeth remained.
Inside the church, I quickly found the marble memorial bearing the Collins name:
“Sacred to the memory of Henry Collins Gent, whose remains are deposited in a vault in the centre aisle of this church. He died Jan 11th MDCCCXXVII, aged LXXV years. Also Elizabeth his wife, who died Jan XVIIIth MDCCCXXI aged LXVII years.”
Guided by this inscription, I walked down the central aisle of the centuries-old church. I found the vault’s entrance — a brass plaque, etched with many names. Elizabeth was home.
