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This rare early portrait of Elizabeth I, painted when she was still a princess, offers an unusually intimate glimpse of the future queen before the construction of her later public image. In marked contrast to the opulent portraiture associated with her later reign, Elizabeth is presented here as an intellectual young adolescent, whose status as a legitimate heir to the throne had only recently been restored.
The present work is an in-period copy of a portrait in the Royal Collection, which is considered the earliest individual portrayal of Elizabeth. Until the re-emergence of the present work in 2005, the Royal Collection work was thought to be the only surviving single likeness of Elizabeth as Princess from this formative period. It depicts her at approximately thirteen years of age, datable to c.1546, some twelve years before her accession in 1558. To this date, neither work has been securely attributed.
In contrast to the highly codified representations of her reign, in...
This rare early portrait of Elizabeth I, painted when she was still a princess, offers an unusually intimate glimpse of the future queen before the construction of her later public image. In marked contrast to the opulent portraiture associated with her later reign, Elizabeth is presented here as an intellectual young adolescent, whose status as a legitimate heir to the throne had only recently been restored.
The present work is an in-period copy of a portrait in the Royal Collection, which is considered the earliest individual portrayal of Elizabeth. Until the re-emergence of the present work in 2005, the Royal Collection work was thought to be the only surviving single likeness of Elizabeth as Princess from this formative period. It depicts her at approximately thirteen years of age, datable to c.1546, some twelve years before her accession in 1558. To this date, neither work has been securely attributed.
In contrast to the highly codified representations of her reign, in which authority and magnificence are projected through highly elaborate costumes, this early likeness presents a more human and intimate image. Although still adorned in the trappings of her rank, Elizabeth appears composed and self-possessed, her demeanour reflecting the courtly ideals of decorum and piety expected of a princess. Notably, the portrait is largely devoid of overt monarchical symbolism, instead emphasising personal presence over dynastic display. In more prosaic terms and given its early date within the development of English portraiture in oil, the type may also be understood as among the earliest surviving representations of a young girl in English oil painting.
The Royal Collection portrait is thought to have been sent by Elizabeth as a gift to her brother, Edward VI, in 1547. The two siblings appear to have enjoyed a close relationship. Edward’s letters attest to his affection for his sister, expressing how keenly he felt her absence following his accession, while Elizabeth remained at Hatfield. In May 1547, Elizabeth sent a letter to accompany the portrait Edward had requested, writing: “For the face, I graunt. I might wel blushe to offer, but the mynde I shal never be ashamed to present… when you shal loke on my picture you wil witsafe to think that as you have but the outwarde shadow of the body afore you, so my inwarde minde wischeth that the body it selfe were oftener in your presence.”[1]
The Royal Collection picture, therefore, was likely a mark and symbol of affection, commissioned for a private audience. This was unusual in Royal portraiture. Until then, the function of portrait paintings had largely been directed towards display or diplomacy. Holbein’s imposing Henry VIII was clearly designed to awe, as much as his controversial portrait of Anne of Cleves was produced to facilitate marriage negotiations. In this context, the portrait of Princess Elizabeth represents a notable shift in function.
Within this expanding framework for the production and purpose of royal portraiture, the present work may be understood in relation to the commissioning practices of Elizabeth’s immediate circle. Catherine Parr, Henry VIII’s final queen and one of the most culturally engaged figures at court, emerges as a central patron in mid-Tudor England, and her role in the development of English portraiture is significant. Her chamber accounts record payments to artists including John Bettes the Elder, Lucas Hornebolte, and Hans Eworth,[2]and suggest associations with William Scrots and Levina Teerlinc.
Catherine was also a prolific disseminator of her own image. Her fourth husband, the reprehensible Thomas Seymour, wrote “give me one of your small pictures… if ye have any left…”.[3] Portraits were likewise exchanged within the royal family: Catherine presented Edward VI with a portrait of herself and the King, while a comparable example was given to the Earl of Hertford, her brother-in-law and later Protector Somerset. Elizabeth, who was living with Catherine Parr during this period, must be understood within this milieu. It is highly plausible that she was directly exposed to, and perhaps participated in, these patterns of artistic patronage. The present portrait may be situated within this context, reflecting the broader practice of producing and circulating likenesses within a closely connected dynastic and familial network. It has also been suggested that this portrait may have been painted at the end of Henry VIII’s reign, for his own collection.
Recent dendrochronological analysis of the central German oak panel on which this portrait is painted provides an earliest possible felling date of 1546. The painting is therefore likely to have been executed from 1548 onwards, allowing time for seasoning. The political difficulties of Elizabeth’s position in Queen Mary’s reign make it unlikely that the picture was made after Edward VI’s death in 1553. Nor does it accord with the more controlled and overtly political imagery that developed following her accession in 1558, when her royal portraiture became increasingly regulated. The Royal Collection portrait, which belonged to Edward VI and is recorded at Westminster in 1547, further suggests that the production of related versions would have required some degree of access to, or sanction from, the royal court.
The provenance of the present work is obscured by the fact that, by the early twentieth century, it appears to have lost its original identity. The picture was sold from the Ramsden collection in 1932. Sir John Ramsden, 5th Bt., had married Lady Guendolen Seymour, daughter and co-heir of Edward Adolphus, 12th Duke of Somerset, a direct descendant of Protector Somerset. Lady Guendolen inherited a substantial group of paintings from her father, including important Tudor portraits, together with the estate of Bulstrode in Buckinghamshire, where the present work is recorded in 1930. The painting is almost certainly identifiable with that listed in the Bulstrode inventory as ‘L. Cranach Portrait of a lady in a pink jewelled dress, holding a book, panel 29 × 21½ in’.[4] These dimensions would have included the two now-missing narrow panels on either side of the central panel preserved here. Its misidentification and uncertain attribution at that date likely accounts for its relatively modest status within the collection and its absence from other inventories so far identified.
[1] Karen Hearn (ed.), (1995) Dynasties: Painting in Tudor and Jacobean England, 1530-1630. London: Tate Publishing, p. 78.
[2] The National Archives (n.d.) PRO E315/340, fol. 30a, cited in Susan James (1996) ‘Lady Jane Grey or Queen Kateryn Parr?’, The Burlington Magazine, January.
[3] Susan James, Kateryn Parr – The Making of a Queen (London, 1999), p. 419.
[4] D/RA/3-109q, Bulstrode Papers.
