This remarkable painting is compositionally unique within the context of late sixteenth century French portraiture, and provides us with an extraordinary dynastic statement and a fascinating interplay of identities and relationships between the sitters.

 

The young girl is presented alongside her mother, but there are extra portraits of both her parents included in the composition – one of her mother on the wall behind them, and an exquisitely bejewelled miniature of her presumably deceased father, which she clasps in her hand. The inherent intimacy of the miniature format is heightened by its juxtaposition between the mother and child. It hangs from the mother’s waist on a golden chain, and is grasped by her daughter, who in turn is held at the arm by her mother – an uninterrupted sequence that mirrors their familial bonds.

The Aldersey family group provides a window on to child mortality. Here we see the thirty-six year old mother with her offspring. Her age is inscribed in roman numerals, as are the ages of her two elder children. However, the smallest child is not given an age, but rather, it is inscribed with initials, presumably in memoriam. The child also wears a fine lace cap underneath his hat. Such a cap was customary attire for a sleeping child, or indeed a child laid to rest forever.

In an age when survival to adulthood was such an achievement, the importance of this noble baby within her own family can well be imagined. It is the only known portrait by William Larkin of a baby, and he has placed her regally within the full apparatus of pictorial conventions for high Jacobean court portraiture.

 

There is a formalised curtain in the background and the damask cushion on which the baby is placed is equally rich, with red silk tassels and gold trim. Likewise, no expense has been spared on her flowing lace-trimmed dress, and the ‘Turkey’ carpet is another status symbol. It would have been made in west Anatolia between the end of the 15th and the beginning of the 16th century, commonly called a ‘Holbein pattern’ because of its use in his double portrait of The Ambassadors (National Gallery, London).

The children are grouped by gender in this intriguing portrait of four siblings, and this was the norm, of course. The boys between them hold a book to symbolise their erudition and learning, while the girls are shown with cherries and apples for their future fruitfulness, and a small book of hours, for a pious life.

 

The small white dog is an Imperial Chinese breed, hinting at trade links with the East, and certainly familial wealth, as well as representing fidelity. The costumes worn by the children are of the highest quality and fashion – silk, damask, gold brocade and jewels in abundance. This family are decked out to impress, the children dressed like small courtly adults. Childhood is not the message here, but rather familial success and lineage.

This young girl tenderly feeds a sheep, as though emerging from a fairytale wood as a shepherdess. It is, of course, also an allusion to St. Agnes (perhaps after whom the child was named), and to her innocence as a ‘lamb of god’. The picture can be viewed as an extension of the pastoral portrait, which reflected the growing interest in rural life, evident in Dutch literature and art from the beginning of the seventeenth century. But in spite of the simple setting, our young girl, painted by the Amsterdam artist Dirck Santvoort, was most likely the city-dwelling offspring of a townsman. The fine lace in her costume, gold bracelets are an indication of the family’s wealth, while the diamond ring on her engagement finger points to her marriageability, and the family’s dynastic aspirations.

The elder sibling in this endearing double portrait, shown on the left, holds a rose, freshly plucked from the bush behind her, and a carnation, a combination that symbolises her marriageability. But what makes this portrait interesting is that the younger child is holding a doll – a potent symbol of childhood itself. The siblings also wear coral necklaces and bracelets. Coral was believed to ward off evil spirits, and used as a talisman to repel sickness and disease. It was a common baptism gift, carried until marriage and passed on to one’s own child. It also had associations with the Christ child – exemplified by Carlo Grivelli’s painting of the Madonna della Rondine of 1490, where the coral necklace worn by the baby Jesus was a reminder of his blood and sacrifice.

Coral was not only worn by children, but also used for teething. Here, on the right, we see a young noble toddler clutching its costly coral rinkelbel – a golden rattle with a coral branch for the child’s sore gums. It was at once a status symbol, a practical pacifier, and an amulet to keep one’s child safe.

Cornelius Johnson arguably produced his best work when painting children. From his exquisite small-scale portraits of Charles I and Henrietta Maria’s royal offspring, to the likes of our two portraits, painted at very different moments in the artist’s long-spanning career.

Here we see what had by now become the prerequisite capriccio landscape background for a noble portrait, and a brother and sister dressed in finery their parents would have been proud to wear themselves. The spaniel is most obviously a symbol of loyalty, and the parrot provides an intriguing reference to learning, as well as the exotic – another nod to their wealth.

The symbolism we have encountered in these portraits, was almost exclusively designed to highlight a family's dynastic hopes and dreams, at a time when lineage was synonymous with betterment.

 

Yet within this structure, when the artist understood how to characterise a face, we see glimmers of a child's unique personality, and occasionally, the props they hold, such as a doll, hint at a childhood lived more simply, a childhood we can more readily relate to today.

 

In the 18th and 19th centuries, childish 'play' - from blowing bubbles, to flying kites, would become more of a focus in portraits than in their old master precursors.