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This portrait of Queen Elizabeth I, painted towards the end of her reign in the 1590s, epitomises the unrestrained flamboyance that dominated her later iconography.
By this date, Elizabeth was acutely aware of the power of portraiture and deployed it with increasing sophistication to project an image of authority. These later portraits are marked by their opulence, standing in marked contrast to the restraint of those produced earlier in her rule. Among these later works, two works stand out for their exceptional scale and theatricality: the ‘Ditchley’ portrait by Marcus Gheeraerts the Younger, and the ‘Armada’ portrait. In both, Elizabeth is shown as an icon and saviour of England, her powerful position as head of state transcending her body of ageing flesh and bones. Such images convey a carefully constructed vision of power and stability. At a moment when the question of succession remained unresolved, the figure of Gloriana, resplendent in imposing costume and jewels, stood firm.
The artist...
This portrait of Queen Elizabeth I, painted towards the end of her reign in the 1590s, epitomises the unrestrained flamboyance that dominated her later iconography.
By this date, Elizabeth was acutely aware of the power of portraiture and deployed it with increasing sophistication to project an image of authority. These later portraits are marked by their opulence, standing in marked contrast to the restraint of those produced earlier in her rule. Among these later works, two works stand out for their exceptional scale and theatricality: the ‘Ditchley’ portrait by Marcus Gheeraerts the Younger, and the ‘Armada’ portrait. In both, Elizabeth is shown as an icon and saviour of England, her powerful position as head of state transcending her body of ageing flesh and bones. Such images convey a carefully constructed vision of power and stability. At a moment when the question of succession remained unresolved, the figure of Gloriana, resplendent in imposing costume and jewels, stood firm.
The artist or workshop that painted the present work was evidently well versed in this established visual language, producing an image designed to impress and to affirm loyalty. In keeping with the prevailing idiom of Elizabeth’s later portraiture, the costume dominates the composition, its surface richly worked with colour and detail.[1] Elizabeth is presented wearing a large open-set standing ruff arranged in large figures of eight, which lends an ethereal quality. This effect is enhanced by the gauze ‘rail’ that hangs behind, framing the queen in a manner typical of her later large-scale portraits.
The broad red sleeves of the gown are split to reveal a pair of white silk sleeves embellished with floral forms, including Tudor roses interspersed with acorns and honeysuckle. Each motif is symbolic of Elizabeth’s lineage and authority. The Tudor rose alludes to dynastic unity, while honeysuckle and acorns, associated with love and growth, are motifs linked to the personal iconography of Elizabeth’s parents, Henry VIII and Anne Boleyn.[2] These forms recur across the stomacher and skirt, which are densely embroidered in gold thread. At the centre of the stomacher, a naturalistic rose appears to grow upward, while more stylised roses, honeysuckle and birds are arranged in couched gold across the skirt. The birds may evoke the falcon badge of Anne Boleyn, though they may equally allude more broadly to themes of motherhood, abundance and Elizabeth’s role of protector of the kingdom.
The queen’s jewellery plays an equally significant role within the composition. Most prominent is the long string of pearls worn around the neck, which the queen delicately holds between the thumb and ring finger of her right hand. Pearls, long associated with purity and virginity, feature insistently in her later portraits, hung around the neck, woven into the hair, and worn at the ears. Around Elizabeth’s neck hangs a distinctive jewel composed of a large square-cut diamond flanked by two figures and terminating in a pendant pearl. It appears to be based on ‘The Mirror of France’, the same jewel which appears in the ‘Clopton’ portrait, suggesting the repetition of specific items of royal jewellery across multiple portraits.
Elizabeth did not sit for the many contemporary portraits of her that survive, but nevertheless attempted to control their dissemination. One way to regulate the Queen’s image was through the circulation of approved head designs (or ‘patterns’) which could then be drawn or traced by the artist, as is likely to have been done here. Once the head had been drawn, the artist would then either imagine the costume or work from further patterns, embellishing it with a level of detail corresponding to the depth of their patron’s pocket. Only a small number of original face patterns from the Tudor period have survived, but one of John Fisher and another of a lady thought to be Elizabeth I can be found in the National Portrait Gallery, London.
The present work was formerly in the possession of the Misses Marjorie Edith and Cecilia Mary Blencowe of Marston House, Banbury, Oxfordshire. The Blencowe family have a long and illustrious heritage and had been at Marston since the reign of Henry VI. Later generations of the family were actively involved in politics and Anthony Blencowe was provost of Oriel College, Oxford between 1572 and 1618. His portrait, painted by an unknown hand in 1601, is in the art collection at Oriel College. In the early twentieth century Marston House and its contents were put up for sale. The family appear to have retained the estate and the present work passed into the possession of the aforementioned two sisters and was then sold at auction in 1954 with the remainder of their art collection.
[1] We are grateful to Jacqui Ansell, Fashion Historian, for her assistance when researching the costume.
[2] Eric Ives, (2004) The Life and Death of Anne Boleyn. Hoboken: Wiley-Blackwell, p.243.
