Recently I have been watching Elizabeth R, the series made by the BBC back in 1971, with Glenda Jackson playing the role of Queen Elizabeth I. Being too young to watch it at the time, I must have seen some photographs and trailers for the series, as I’m sure that it had an influence on my lifelong interest in Tudor history and art. At that very young age I suspect that the fascination was mostly with the fashion. All of those ruffs and grand dresses certainly had an affect on my own artistic attempts at that time. Kings and queens in flamboyant clothing became the focus for some of my own early creations.
A few years later in 1975, I made my first visit to the Tate Gallery in London, to the building which now houses the gallery’s British collection and is now known as Tate Britain. I remember that it was a very hot day in the city and being tired from walking and all of the excitement of being in the capital, my attention was beginning to wane. The elderly family friend who I was with was aware of my interest in the Tudors and stood me in front of the The Cholmondeley Ladies, also known as Two Ladies of the Cholmondeley Family. I was struck and fascinated by these two rather frosty faced individuals sitting upright holding their babies as I think nearly everyone who comes into contact with the painting is. The image never left me, and on each subsequent visit to the gallery, I headed for the Tudor collection to see if they were there. They always were. Sitting, staring right at me, as if waiting to say hello, we see you’re back. In fact, since its restoration back in the 1950s, the painting has always hung somewhere on the gallery walls. Few works in Tate’s vast collection, if any, can claim to have done that.
Several decades after being introduced to the painting for the first time, it felt strange to be standing next to it and talking about it to the public. Fated almost. What can you say about the painting if we don’t know who they are, or who painted it? I was asked. Plenty, I replied.
The branch of the Cholmondeley family referred to here were from the county of Cheshire in the north west of England. It is thought that the painting spent most of its life at Vale Royal, one of their main residences, in the collection of Thomas Cholmondeley. Thomas had inherited it along with many other works of art from his mother, who was born Mary Holford in 1563. Vale Royal started life as a Cistercian Monastery before becoming a private residence and had been purchased by Mary in 1615. The work is dated 1600 – 1610 and therefore painted at a time when the Tudor dynasty was coming to an end and passing to that of the Stuarts. It is oil painted on oak panels and was donated to Tate in 1955 by an anonymous donor. The artist is unknown and is thought to have been a local painter from the Cheshire area where the family were from, most likely a member of the local guild or company of painters.
This double portrait presents us with a complete mystery. Here we have two beautifully dressed women sitting upright on a bed gazing directly at us, each holding a child in swaddling clothes. It is unique in its format. We do not know for certain who the sitters and the babies are, who painted it or why it was painted and we do not know who donated it to Tate back in 1955. The painting arrived at Tate requiring considerable restoration which took three years to complete. The Tate conservation report from 1956 states that the figure on the left was more badly damaged than the one on the right and had been retouched already, the face in particular suffering from paint losses. The two right hand faces had also had paint added. The oak panel is made up of four joined, horizontal panels and the bottom panel had split and the wood was suffering from beetle manifestation. Many losses of paint had occurred along the horizontal grain of the panels.
As I’m sure you all know, Tudor portraits normally contain symbols or coats of arms to help us identify the sitters. However, those clues alone are not always enough and the art world is full of mystery portraits waiting to be named. With this portrait there are no such clues only the inscription on the bottom left of the painting which states that they are:
‘Two ladies of the Cholmondeley Family
Who were born the same day
Married the same day
And brought to bed the same day’
..that is gave birth the same day.
Baffling to say the least. What were the chances? Note, however, that it does not state that this took place in the same year.
The assumption that many make on first seeing the painting is that we are looking at twins. However, there are no references in the Cholmondeley family tree of twins being born at this time or close to it. Births not being recorded was common. Sometimes they were recorded in the parish or in this family’s case, in the house log book. At times, births were not recorded at all. With this in mind and the fact that there are at least four versions of the name Cholmondeley, you can imagine the headaches I went down with when searching through the family tree.
Looking closer at the painting, we can see that the lady on the left has blue eyes and the one on the right brown. The babies’ eyes mirror those of the mothers’. Both women are dressed in silver white with elaborate ruffs and trunk or cannon sleeves that were fashionable in England from about 1570 – 1620. There are different designs on the added lace around the ruffs which was known as punto in aria – stitch in the air. The design around the collars is also different. They wear necklaces of pearl and a red stone – on the left the stone is heart shaped and on the right rose shaped. It is interesting to note that the restoration report shows the lady on the right to be originally wearing a necklace of five pointed stars and not roses. The design on the stomacher on the left matches the cloth on the child but on the right not quite so. Also, the pillows. The left and right sides are slightly different. The wearing of rings was very common at this time and it was rare for a married woman not to wear one, but there are no rings on the fingers of these ladies, which is strange considering the portrait is partly supposed to do with marriage. The pose is similar to tomb sculpture and it has been suggested that is indeed what this is. Looking at effigies on Tudor tombs, including the Cholmondeley tomb itself, I can see what they mean. But why paint them so?
It is generally assumed that the portrait is of two of Mary Cholmondeley’s daughters, Lettice and her slightly elder sister, also called Mary. I wonder if in fact we are looking at mother and daughter? Mary the mother, as I have already mentioned, was born Mary Holford in 1563 and married Sir Hugh Cholmondeley (1513 – 1596). They had five sons and three daughters. Mary gave birth to her youngest child, a daughter called Frances, two months after the death of her husband in 1601 and at around the same time as her daughter Lettice gave birth to her son Richard (but not on the same day!!). Mary Holford was involved in an inheritance dispute which went on for over forty years. After her father died, her uncle, George Holford, wanted all of the property and lands passed to him as he was the next male in descent but she was having none of it. Her determination paid off and she won the dispute, ensuring that her own children inherited the family properties and land. This earned her the title of ‘the Bolde Lady of Cheshire’ a name given to her by the new King James I who visited Vale Royal in 1617 and stayed for four days. This title also referred to her refusal of the King’s offer to provide for one of her son’s at court. Interestingly, several years earlier in 1604, she had received a pardon from James for offences including witchcraft. This deserves further research as does the Bolde Lady herself. To be pardoned by James I for such a thing is strange indeed.
Late yesterday afternoon, I walked up the river Thames past Hampton Court Palace and thought once again of Elizabeth I, her mother Anne Boleyn and father Henry VIII who had all once lived there. Elizabeth. Considered by many to be a heretic and daughter of a witch. The trials of a female monarch, expected to marry and produce an heir to inherit the throne. This is something which every monarch must consider, of course. But this queen did not marry and did not have children. We all know that. Instead the throne passed to the son of her cousin Mary Queen of Scots making James VI of Scotland also James I of England. This made me think about inheritance and the fact that this might be partly what this painting is all about. Perhaps here we have the mothers and their children, gazing right at us, stating that the family inheritance is safe and that the family line will go on.
Thinking once more of the inscription. The style of the script apparently suggests a late eighteenth century date. Was this redone after a restoration or was it in fact never part of the original painting and added at a later date? Is it a red herring? If so, I wonder how we would interpret the painting if the words were not there at all?
For me the painting would be just as intriguing. After all, it was not the inscription which caught my attention when I first saw it. At such a young age I doubt if I even knew it was there. On some days when I worked in the gallery, I would go and sit with the portrait, especially if the date to give a talk was approaching. Over time I became convinced that their expressions changed. One day they would seem content and another not so, leaving me with a sense of unease. I would watch people enter the room and stop, catch sight of the double portrait and then be pulled over by their gaze and presence. Then they would stand back and just stare. Contemplating. Some read the inscription. Some didn’t. Whatever mystery it holds is unique to each individual, and I somehow doubt that we will ever know who they really were. Does their identity matter? Something deep down tells me that the inscription is indeed a red herring. No matter how much research I do about them, I feel that uncovering their identity would take away the appeal they have. I thought for a while that I might have been going somewhere with the mother/daughter theory until I saw a portrait of Mary Holford and found that she has brown eyes. The eyes of the woman in the portrait are blue. It is the face which has had most restoration but somehow this is the nature of looking at this portrait. You think you are getting somewhere and then suddenly feel as if you are getting nowhere at all. I began to be convinced that they were conspiring and as I’ve stated, the true identity we may never know and perhaps that is how it is supposed to be and may have nothing to do with the true meaning of the work.
One source suggests that because of the use of bold colours and a limited palette the painting may have been produced by a local heraldic painter. The artist. I do wonder who they were. They should have credit for the now iconic work which they created. Further research into the artists working for the guild in Cheshire at that time would perhaps give a clue although much has been done already. It is thought that they are local and not from London although the family certainly made enough trips to the capital. Were they from the Low Countries as so many artists fled from there to avoid religious persecution at that time?
Personally, I feel that the alchemical balance of red, black, gold and silvery white would give the image a place in any serious tarot deck or table of magical correspondences. The masculine gold sun and red fire energy, coupled with the silvery grey/white of the feminine moon energies against a combination of white and black. Perfect balance. They sit like two High Priestesses who hold the answers, but who remain forever silent, leaving it to us to figure it all out. You can ask but we won’t answer, they say. Two abundant Empresses who have given birth to their creations. A true esoteric mystery.
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