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.