England’s Renaissance queen

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A fascinating glimpse of life at court and beyond is on view at the National Portrait Gallery’s ‘Elizabeth I and her People’

Even more than her father, Elizabeth I (reigned 1558–1603) was a Renaissance prince. Phenomenally well-educated herself – besides Greek and Latin she spoke seven other languages – she presided over a realm in which education spread, industries grew and prospered, national and international trade expanded, and England’s maritime power greatly increased. No wonder she was ‘good Queen Bess’ to many of the beneficiaries.

It was not a good time to be poor – for part of her reign one could actually be imprisoned for giving shelter to a homeless person – or a Roman Catholic (some of whom suffered very brutal executions). As under every regime there were winners and losers. The National Portrait Gallery’s show ‘Elizabeth and her People’ is mainly about the former, and it must be said that they were a varied and colourful bunch.

In the case of the menfolk, the colour was more in their lives than their costume. Black was the most expensive colour for cloth, owing to the cost of the dye and the amount needed to achieve a truly black finish. Sumptuary laws restricted its use to the upper classes, so we find a number of portraits of important men very darkly clad. These include Thomas Howard, the fourth Duke of Norfolk and the foremost commoner of his day. In the ‘Ermine Portrait’, attributed to Nicholas Hilliard, the Queen is also shown in black, though here it offsets numerous pearls and copious gold embroidery and jewel work. There is some actual Tudor jewellery on show, though as curator Tarnya Cooper explained, little of this has survived owing to the common practice of re-setting stones in more modern items as fashions changed.

While only relatively wealthy households would expect to own a painted portrait of the Queen, everyone in the realm carried her picture with them, embossed on the coinage. Early in Elizabeth’s reign there were concerns that  much existing coinage had become debased and this reduced confidence in it at home and abroad. Advised by Thomas Gresham, who had an outstanding grasp of finance, she recalled the coinage and had it all reissued. Each coin now had a set content of gold or silver and bore Elizabeth’s portrait – the first of a British monarch produced expressly for the coinage. Gresham, seen here in an outfit with fashionably ‘slashed’ sleeves, went on to found the Royal Exchange.

This was a time when education and ability allowed some to rise from humble beginnings to great prominence. One thinks, of course, of Shakespeare, the glover’s son who received as good an education as was available to any in the land at his local school, but there were many other examples. Britain was becoming increasingly meritocratic. The valuing of skill over birth is shown in a self-portrait by George Gower. He holds his palette and brush to symbolize his skill, but also depicts a pair of scale pans. One holds his family coat of arms, but weighing heavier than this is a pair of compasses, indicating his skill as a draughtsman. Skill outweighs birth. Gower became Elizabeth’s Serjeant Painter, overseeing palace decoration and set designs for royal entertainments.

Those favoured by the Queen prospered, but courtiers could fall from grace. A portrait of a lady, Elizabeth Vernon, shows her early in her marriage to Henry Wriothesley, Earl of Southampton. They had married without the Queen’s sanction, having eloped when the bride found herself pregnant. On discovery they were briefly imprisoned and never regained royal favour. Elizabeth Vernon’s portrait shows her semi-dressed with various items of toilette and adornment laid out nearby, making it a valuable record of the details of aristocratic dress.

Another unusual image is a portrait of the young John Donne (1572–1631) painted in 1596. This is an intensely romanticized image of the poet. Another journalist commented that he looks like a rock star, and he certainly does. His dark clothing is loose, his arms folded in a relaxed manner and he wears a large, wide-brimmed hat. Among the other portraits here, this extraordinary painting looks like something from another age.

A large painting, The Procession Portrait of Queen Elizabeth, shows an apparently young Queen among her courtiers but was painted (c.1600–03) toward the end of her reign. The label indicates that the youthful appearance was to flatter the Queen, although I suspect that political reasons were more important. Elizabeth had not nominated an heir, and their had been various plots against her during her reign (her spy system was extensive and sophisticated). It was essential to convince the populace at large, most of whom had never seen her, that she was vigorous and youthful. Paintings such as this were surely political propaganda.

A forthcoming exhibition is always a good reason to let the conservators get to work. Work on a portrait of Sir Walter Ralegh has revealed that one corner was painted over in the 18th century in plain black paint to match the rest of the background. This has been removed, revealing an image of waves at sea under a full moon. Ralegh had written a cycle of poems comparing Elizabeth to Cynthia, a moon goddess. Like Cynthia, Elizabeth has power over the sea, and the sea is water, which puns with ‘Walter’. So Ralegh is also in the Queen’s power. His costume is decorated with pearls, a reference to the Queen’s virginity.

What of the poor? A poignant exhibit is a tiny child’s glove, which may well have been knitted by quite a young child, as this was how many children supplemented their parents’ income. Above it is the last will of a poor woman  who lay dying and in it asked her father to look after her young children until their own father should return from sea. Unfortunately, a letter shows that he never returned and it is not thought that the children survived to adulthood. There was no ‘safety net’ in Elizabeth’s England until the passing of the first Elizabethan Poor Law of 1563.

This exhibition shows us, understandably, far more about those who did well and could commission portraits than about the most unfortunate members of society, who then as now were much less able to leave an account of themselves to posterity. It is nonetheless a fascinating glimpse into what made Elizabethan England a pivotal time in the evolution of modern society.

An accompanying catalogue, by Tarnya Cooper and Jane Eade, is published by the National Portrait Gallery, 224pp. fully illustrated, ISBN 978-1855144651