Is this the real face of Lady Jane Grey?
The identity of the woman dressed in black and white has been the subject of debate for many years.
If proved to be Lady Jane, who ruled England for nine days in July 1553, it could be the only known depiction painted in her lifetime.
Lady Jane was deposed by her cousin, Mary I, and was aged 16 or 17 at the time of her death.
The most famous image of her is Paul Delaroche's 19th century painting which shows her blindfolded before the executioner's block.
Hidden features
Research conducted by English Heritage, the Courtauld Institute of Art and Ian Tyers, a leading dendrochronologist, has uncovered previously hidden features in the mysterious portrait.
Using infrared imaging, the Courtauld found that the sitter's costume was significantly altered after the portrait was first completed.
Where now it is subdued, in the past the dress was embellished, with the imagery suggesting more decorative sleeves and a more elaborate head-dress. The white scarf across her shoulders is believed to be a later addition.
'One line of thought is that these changes were a concerted effort to immortalise Jane as a Protestant martyr after her death with a less ostentatious image,' said Peter Moore, curator at Wrest Park in Bedfordshire, where the portrait is on display.
The dendrochronology analysis – or tree ring dating – of the painted oak panels dates them to between 1539 and 1571. A merchant's mark, found on the back, is identical to a mark visible on a portrait of Lady Jane's predecessor, Edward VI, suggesting that the wood came from a merchant who supplied royal portrait artists.
Iconoclastic attack
Experts also confirmed work undertaken by past scholars which showed that the eyes of the portrait had been deliberately scratched out at some point during its lifetime, the sign of an iconoclastic attack. A posthumous image of Lady Jane in the National Portrait Gallery was damaged in the same way.
Rachel Turnbull, senior collections conservator for English Heritage, said: 'While we can't confirm that this is definitely Lady Jane Grey, our results certainly make a compelling argument.'
The portrait was acquired in 1701 by Anthony Grey, 11th Earl of Kent, and remained for 300 years at Wrest Park, his family home. When the estate was sold in 1917, the work passed into a private collection.
It re-emerged for a 2007 exhibition and scholars debated its provenance, with one historian arguing that the portrait depicted Mary Neville Fiennes, Lady Dacre, a contemporary of Lady Jane. The painting has since returned to Wrest Park on loan.
Lady Jane continues to fascinate, Helena Bonham Carter played her in 1986 and she was portrayed last year by Emily Bader in a historical fantasy series, My Lady Jane, based on a young adult novel series by Cynthia Hand.
Philippa Gregory, the historical novelist, wrote about Lady Jane in her book The Last Tudor and was given the chance to view the portrait in the English Heritage conservation studio.
She said: 'Certainly, the features are similar to those of her portrait at the National Portrait Gallery.'
She added that if the portrait is indeed of Lady Jane, it is 'a powerful challenge to the traditional representation of her as a blindfolded victim'.
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The Guardian
11 hours ago
- The Guardian
Sticky end? The British pudding faces extinction, English Heritage warns
At the end of the 17th century a French travel writer who crossed the Channel was clearly impressed by the sweet, comforting treats offered to him, declaring with relish: 'Ah! What an excellent thing is an English pudding!' More than three centuries on, English Heritage has sounded the alarm that the good old British pudding is facing extinction. Research from the charity suggests two-thirds of households in England, Wales and Scotland make puddings only once a month or less, while a third never bake or boil or steam one. English Heritage warned that if nothing was done to stem the tide, the great British pudding will not exist in 50 years. Dr Andrew Hann, a senior curator of history at English Heritage, said: 'Sweet puddings are closely intertwined with British history and it would be a huge shame for them to die out.' For the purposes of this research, the charity defines puddings as cooked sweet courses that follow a main meal – so not just traditional 'puddings' typically made in mould or basins but also dishes such as apple pies or crumbles. Hann waxed lyrical about the sort of puddings his mother would make. 'She regularly produced a delicious pudding after the main course – things like steamed sponge pudding with coming out of a pudding basin with the syrup dribbling down the side. There was a whole repertoire of delicious puddings. People are not generally making these sort of hot desserts but turning to things like ice-cream, yoghurts or fruit.' English Heritage said recipes for sweetened meat pies from the medieval period had been found and that by the Tudor and Stuart times, puddings sweetened with honey or fruit were common, although many would also have contained meat. Hann said puddings were once a luxury for the well-off but as sugar became more widely available, more people could enjoy them. The 20th century was probably the heyday of the British pudding. 'However, the research shows a clear shift away from the traditional dessert over the past 50 years,' Hann said. 'As more women entered the workforce from the 1970s onwards, households no longer had as much time to cook and started to prioritise convenience. If this decline continues, we can expect the classic great British pud to all but vanish within the next 50 years.' The research, which was carried out by YouGov, found 2% of British households eat a daily homemade pudding. While half of people born before 1970 said their parents made puddings several times a week, that was the case for only 26% of those born in the 1970s. The downward trend has continued since then. In an attempt to reignite Britain's love affair with puddings, English Heritage has introduced two new pudding-inspired ice-cream flavours to its sites: sticky toffee and apple crumble and custard. The charity is also launching The English Heritage Baking Book in early September. It contains recipes for all the nation's favourite puddings but also some of the forgotten ones, accompanied by notes on their history. Sign up to Headlines UK Get the day's headlines and highlights emailed direct to you every morning after newsletter promotion Twelfth Night cakeBy the reign of Elizabeth I, Twelfth Night involved a celebratory cake, typically a rich, yeasty fruit bread flavoured with spices, and a token or bean hidden inside. The person who found the bean became the Lord of Misrule or King of the Bean, and would have to organise the evening's revelry. The cake survived the Reformation. People began to use eggs to raise the cake, and as sugar and fruit came down in price, the cake became less of a fruited bread and more like a rich fruit cake. Over time, it was replaced by the Christmas cake. Soul cakeAlso know as a soulmass-cake, they were traditionally given to children or poorer people, known as 'soulers', who would go from door to door singing songs or reciting prayers over Allhallowtide (Halloween, Saints' Day, and All Souls' Day). There are written references to the custom from as far back as 1511. Records from the 19th century show soul cakes as roundels containing flour, butter, sugar, currants, spices and eggs. Cabinet puddingSometimes known as chancellor's pudding, it was very popular in the Georgian era. A traditional bread-and-butter style pudding, it is made with dried fruits and moulded and steamed. Served with custard. Anglo-Saxon cakeA lot of food eaten by Anglo-Saxons is still familiar. This cake was made with honey, butter, oats and dried fruit, and cooked in a heavy iron saucepan with a lid over a fire. Source: English Heritage
The Herald Scotland
6 days ago
- The Herald Scotland
Kate Forbes coverage shows we need to stop attacking those of faith
Research by The Bible Society has found that church attendance (defined as attending church at least once a month, excluding weddings, baptisms, christenings, and funerals) has grown from 8% to 12% in England and Wales since 2018. Among 18-24-year-olds, church attendance has grown from 4% to 16%, and among 25-34-year-olds it has grown from 4% to 13%. Eighteen to 34-year-olds are now more likely to attend church than any age group except those over 65, upending what was a clear relationship between age and church attendance in 2018. Read More: Added to that, a YouGov poll conducted at the start of the year found that, for the first time since they began asking this question in 2019, the share of Britons that believe in a god or gods is now greater than the share that explicitly do not believe in any gods or higher spiritual power – 35% to 32%. Since 2019, the share who believe in a god or gods has increased by nine points, and the share who do not has decreased by 10 points. Again, this shift is markedly greater among young adults. 45% of 18-24-year-olds believe in a god or gods, compared to 34% who do not. That's a swing of 16 points since 2019. And the same patterns can be seen in their Scottish sample, though those who do not believe in a god or gods continue to outnumber those who do. It's important not to overstate the case. The UK, particularly Scotland, is becoming an increasingly secular society. According to the census, between 2011 and 2021, the share of people in England and Wales who identify as Christian declined from 59% to 43% and the share who identified with no religion increased from 25% to 37%. The Scottish census has found an even greater shift, with the share of Scots who identify with any religion declining from 56% to 43% since 2011, and the share identifying with no religion increasing from 38% to 51%. Scotland is now a majority irreligious nation, and this is the case in 24 of our 32 local authority areas. Those areas where those who identify with a religion outnumber those who don't tend to be those with historically relatively large Catholic communities, in the West Central Belt, thanks to Catholic identity's relative 'stickiness'. The exception is Na h-Eileanan Siar, where historically much higher identification with a Protestant denomination means that, despite a sharp decline, most of the population identify with one or another Protestant denomination. The long-term trend of secularisation is butting up against a generation coming of age in a different set of circumstances from those that most of us grew up in. They are the austerity generation, and the generation most shaped by the consequences of successive crises from 2008 through the pandemic. We know that religious faith and observance are strongly associated with greater happiness, a sense of community, and shared purpose. Young adults belong to a generation that broadly feels let down by their elders and left behind by society, whether thanks to the spectre of uncontrolled climate change, spiralling cost of living, or impossible housing costs, and whose communal spaces and opportunities to form communities of shared purpose were decimated by the impact of austerity on social infrastructure. It makes sense that a significant number of them, though still a minority, turned to religion to fill those gaps. This isn't inherently a bad thing, of course, and I don't want to imply that it is. Some aspects of what the Bible Society has called the Quiet Revival are rather disturbing, most significantly the role played by 'manosphere' influencers, up to and including individuals like Adam Tate, in encouraging young men to embrace 'traditional' (code for misogynistic) values and lifestyles that include Christian observance. But it would be deeply unfair to paint this entire phenomenon with that brush or understand it through that lens. What secular society should be asking is what we can learn about providing community and shared purpose for young people, and how we can accommodate this growing religious minority in the wider social and political life of an increasingly secular nation? The answer to the first question is obvious, but not necessarily easy: invest in social infrastructure. I've written several times in this paper about social isolation and the essential benefits, both social and economic, of social infrastructure. The trend of some young people turning to religion to fill that gap in secular life reinforces the need for such investment. The second is harder, as the case of Kate Forbes demonstrates. The answer to the question of whether a religious person can lead this irreligious country is yes – both Humza Yousaf and John Swinney are observant adherents to their respective faiths. The question is how to accommodate religious worldviews alongside secular ones in public debate. That is not to say that faith-based politics should not be challenged – far from it. They should be as open to contestation as politics rooted in liberalism or secular conservatism. The issue for those of faith is to be open to such challenges, should they choose to go into politics and form their politics based on their faith. For the rest of us, the issue is to find ways of challenging faith-based politics without personally attacking those of faith. While many of us seem individually able to resolve these challenges, a cursory glance at the coverage of Kate Forbes' faith and politics shows that, as a body politic, we haven't. But we'll be forced to, sooner or later: faith and faith-based politics aren't going away. Mark McGeoghegan is a Glasgow University researcher of nationalism and contentious politics and an Associate Member of the Centre on Constitutional Change. He can be found on BlueSky @
New Statesman
30-07-2025
- New Statesman
We should be eating oily fish – but what's the catch?
The government has, for some time, been trying to get a reluctant population to eat fish – preferably oily fish such as mackerel, herring or salmon – at least twice a week. It began campaigning around 1563, urging people to add Wednesday as a 'fissh daye' to Friday, still observed as a fast day even in newly Protestant England. It was for the national health: not the well-being of individuals, but the country's economic and military might. Elizabeth I's government, flinching at the threat from Spain, aimed to boost 'the nursery of the navy', the fishing fleet. Fish would eke out the nation's limited beef supplies, in demand from a growing and increasingly wealthy population. But neither fasting nor fish were popular and the policy was dropped. In the 18th century there was another attempt. Humiliated by defeat in the American War of Independence, parliament looked instead to develop north and west coastal Scotland, which had no large-scale fishing industry. Inconveniently located Highlanders were cleared from their villages in favour of sheep and packed off to the maritime margins to become crofters and fishing folk. The expanding herring industry attracted the attention of Adam Smith. To relieve poverty, he argued, subsidise the small and local. Bounties (subsidies) on huge fishing vessels simply ended up in the pockets of wealthy Londoners. Those small boats hardly made a dent in Scotland's vast shoals. Daniel Defoe described the Pentland Firth as 'one-third water and two-thirds fish' in the 1720s. Donald Murray's Herring Tales (2022) describes how young Highlanders and Islanders followed the 'numberless armies' throughout the season from Orkney to Lowestoft. For much of the 19th century, netting, gutting, barrelling, curing and selling fish provided jobs (demanding, cold and smelly, as they were) and food through small, usually family-owned boats. The breakfast kipper became part of the much-admired Scottish breakfast (particularly plump, rubicund fish became known as 'Glasgow Magistrates'). Smoked fish gave factory workers something 'tasty' for their tea, and extra-salted fish were given to enslaved workers in the Caribbean. Today, we take a 'healthy diet' to be a personal matter. But the old sense of the health of the economy is indissoluble from bodily health, thanks to the cost of the NHS. Oily fish – salmon, herrings, sardines, sprats, mackerel – have found themselves recommended anew by government for cardiovascular health, thanks to their micronutrients and Omega-3 – essential fatty acids that our bodies cannot make themselves. Critics and conservationists say that humans should simply eat the source of Omega-3 directly, by eating as far up the food chain as possible. Ditch lice-infested fish-farm salmon; instead eat the tiny silver anchovies, sardines, herring – the small fry that are turned into fishmeal. This is cheap, healthy fast food (though, admittedly, they can be whiffy in the kitchen). Traditional recipes tend to be quick and uncomplicated: a flash under the grill, some bread, butter and something sharp like lemon, dill pickle, capers, gooseberries or rhubarb. Potatoes often feature. Smoked mackerel flaked into mashed potato make quick fishcakes, without the smell lingering. Both herring and mackerel take kindly to a devil of mustard and cayenne. The Sicilian pasta con le sarde, an ancient, pre-tomato pasta sauce of sardines, fennel, pine nuts and raisins, takes as long to make as pasta takes to boil. A few anchovies, cooked with onions, give an umami boost to a tomato-based sauce. If there is a lesson in these contrasting stories – the Elizabethan proclamation vs the Adam Smith subsidies – it is that if the legislature wants to change the way the population eats, it must put some money into it; proclamations or their modern equivalent, 'guidelines', don't work by themselves. So much for our economic and personal health – what about the oceans? Smith was right for a reason he couldn't have foreseen: small boats don't wreck the marine ecosystem as huge trawlers do. Subscribe to The New Statesman today from only £8.99 per month Subscribe If there are to be plenty more fish in the sea – enough for us to eat our two portions a week – small might be the way to go in the kitchen, as it is in water. [See also: 150 years of the bizarre Hans Christian Andersen] Related
