You may never have heard of Margaret Beaufort. A woman of astonishing intelligence and foresight, she has only recently begun to get proper credit as the mastermind behind several watershed moments in English history.

In this article, we discuss who Margaret was and key facts about her life. Below, we will talk about what Margaret Beautfort really looked like and reveal our lifelike re-creations of the Tudor Matriarch.

If you’d rather watch this article in video format, check out her 15 minute history & facial reconstructios video here.


Wewyck’s portrait, painted just after Margaret’s death and identified in 2019.

The Portraits: What Did Margaret Beaufort Actually Look Like?

Search for Margaret Beaufort online and you will meet the same woman over and over again: elderly, austere, hands clasped, kneeling at prayer in a white wimple and dark mantle. The National Portrait Gallery holds around twenty images associated with her, and almost every one shows her as an aged widow dressed very nearly as a nun.

There is no reliable portrait of Margaret as a young woman. The girl who gave birth to a future king at thirteen simply does not survive on panel — and may never have been painted at all.

The Forgery – What Scholars Hoped was a Portrait of Young Margaret

For a long time, the great hope was a panel now in the National Portrait Gallery showing a young woman in a 1490s gable hood, with the Beaufort arms displayed beside her. If genuine, it would have been a treasure.

It was doubted almost from the moment the Gallery first saw it. When it was shown to George Scharf, the NPG’s first director, he was unconvinced — he sketched it on the back of the owner’s letter and wrote it off as a fabrication. The panel was resold, and by the time it resurfaced at auction in 1908 Scharf’s verdict had been forgotten. The Gallery bought it as a portrait of Lady Margaret Beaufort.

Scharf’s successor-but-one, Sir Charles Holmes, wrote a sceptical report in January 1911, noting that the image was painted on very fine linen laid onto a modern panel, and that the coat of arms was a later addition. His suspicions were confirmed in 1939, when two x-ray photographs revealed a completely different image underneath — a woman’s head thought to come from an early sixteenth-century Flemish altarpiece. Someone in the nineteenth or early twentieth century had overpainted it with a period hood and Margaret’s maiden arms, almost certainly to make a sale.

Copies of the fake exist at Christ’s College, Cambridge and at Lady Margaret Hall, Oxford, which is how thoroughly it fooled people.

A new portrait, identified in 2019

Fortunately, we do have two reliable likenesses — and one of them is the subject of a genuinely thrilling piece of recent scholarship.

A large painting had hung for centuries in the Master’s Lodge at St John’s College, Cambridge — one of the colleges Margaret founded — showing an older woman kneeling at a prayer desk in a richly furnished closet. In April 2019, Dr Andrew Chen of Cambridge and Dr Charlotte Bolland of the National Portrait Gallery published their findings in The Burlington Magazine. Documents in the college archives recorded a portrait of Lady Margaret by the painter Meynnart Wewyck arriving at St John’s; dendrochronology dated the oak panel to trees felled after 1487 and 1489, with the panel itself constructed before 1521. The two strands of evidence locked together.

Wewyck was a Netherlandish painter who had been Henry VII’s own preferred artist, active at the English court from around 1502. Until 2019 not a single surviving work could be securely attributed to him. This is now the anchor of his entire body of work.

It was commissioned by Bishop John Fisher, Margaret’s confessor and executor, around 1510–12 — immediately after her death. At over 180 cm tall and 122 cm wide, it is now believed to be the earliest large-scale portrait of an English woman in existence, and one of the earliest large-scale portraits of any single individual in Britain.

How do you paint a woman a year after she has died? Two answers, and they aren’t mutually exclusive. Wewyck was working at the English court from 1502, so he may well have seen Margaret in life. And, like her son Henry VII, Margaret is believed to have had a death mask taken after embalming — a mask that would have served both this painting and her tomb effigy.

The portrait has since undergone a monumental conservation project at the Hamilton Kerr Institute — over 1,500 hours of work stripping away centuries of varnish and later overpaint — and now hangs as a centrepiece of the National Portrait Gallery’s Tudor galleries in London. Every earlier “standard” image of Margaret, including the widely reproduced NPG 551, appears to descend from this composition.

The tomb effigy: A beautiful, naturalistic look at the real face of Margaret Beaufort

The second reliable likeness is sculptural. Margaret’s tomb in the south aisle of the Henry VII Lady Chapel at Westminster Abbey was contracted in November 1511 and executed by the Florentine sculptor Pietro Torrigiano — the same artist responsible for the tombs of Henry VII and Elizabeth of York.

Torrigiano’s effigy.

The gilt-bronze effigy shows her in old age in widow’s dress, hood and long mantle, her head resting on two pillows worked with the Beaufort portcullis and the Tudor rose, with the Beaufort yale (a mythical beast with swivel horns, now lost) at her feet. Westminster Abbey’s own account notes that the face was probably modelled on a death mask, and that the effigy was produced using a wax-cast technique that allowed extremely fine detail.

And the detail is the point. The hands are raised in prayer, delicate, and unmistakably wrinkled — a wonderfully lifelike inclusion by the artist, and not the sort of thing a sculptor invents. Traces of original colour survive on the hands, wimple and the trimming of her mantle. The face is thin, with high cheekbones, drawn cheeks and a strong hooked nose.

Her Coloring

Skin tone we can take from the Wewyck portrait. Hair and eyes are far harder. Almost every image shows her in a widow’s hood and wimple, so there is essentially no hair visible anywhere in her iconography. The portrait gives us eyes that read as either dark blue or brown depending on the light and the state of the varnish, beneath delicately arching brown eyebrows. Her son Henry VII, for what it’s worth, was recorded as red-haired with grey/blue eyes.

The Reconstructions

So here’s what I’ve done. Working from Torrigiano’s death-mask-derived effigy, I’ve built the Margaret Beaufort who died at sixty-six – the face we can actually evidence.

Then, I’ve built an educated-guess version of a younger Margaret, regressing the bone structure the effigy gives us. This second one is an interpretation, and I want to be clear about that. The first is as close to her real face as the surviving evidence allows.

Let’s see the face of this extraordinary woman.

Margaret as she died, aged sixty-six – the version we can actually evidence.
An educated guess at the young Margaret, regressed from the effigy’s bone structure.
Margaret Beaufort, if she walked past you today 🙂

Sources & Further Reading

The portraits and their attribution

The tomb and effigy

Primary and biographical sources

Costume references



Becca Segovia Avatar

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4 responses to “Margaret Beaufort: The Face of the Woman Who Made the Tudors”

  1. I love these. She was a force of nature!

  2. Thank you for bringing yet another woman who changed the world we know to Light

  3. […] What did Margaret Beaufort really look like? Click here to find out. […]

  4. Subject: Historical and art-historical observations on the reconstruction of Margaret Beaufort.

    Dear Becca,

    First of all, I would like to express my appreciation for the incredible visual work you produce at Royalty Now. It is a fascinating project that successfully brings history closer to a wider audience. However, after carefully examining your recent reconstruction of Margaret Beaufort, I would like to share a few critical observations from a historical and art-historical perspective, offered in the spirit of constructive feedback.

    Firstly, regarding the version depicting her at the time of her death: whilst I understand the intention to reflect her well-known piety and her later vows of widowhood, the choice of textiles makes her appear almost as an austere nun dressed in rustic linen. If one examines Pietro Torrigiano’s bronze effigy at Westminster Abbey in greater detail, it reveals layered vestments with complex textures, structured sleeves beneath the mantle, and rigid folds. Even the gable hood displays a very specific turned-in hem. Margaret was one of the wealthiest women in Europe; her devotion and mourning were expressed through heavily starched, substantial fabrics of astronomical value, rather than the simplicity of a mendicant order.

    Secondly, the reconstruction of her younger self presents a strong historical contradiction. Depicting her with a radiant smile and bright eyes feels somewhat anachronistic, as it overlooks the systemic trauma of her reality. Margaret was forced into marriage at the age of twelve and endured a brutal childbirth at thirteen that left her permanently barren and on the brink of death, becoming a widow whilst still a child. Her entire life was a constant struggle of hyper-vigilance, implacable political calculation, and sheer survival to protect her son. An expression of cheerful carefree joy seems at odds with the profound historical weight of her youth; furthermore, in the iconography of the period, smiles were rarely depicted among the nobility.

    Finally, I feel that the third version (“if she walked past you today”) somewhat dilutes her strong physiognomic identity. By softening her features to align with contemporary aesthetics, the high cheekbones, drawn cheeks, and strong hooked nose that Torrigiano sculpted with such precision (likely from a death mask) are lost, resulting in an overly mystical or generic appearance.

    I firmly believe that your reconstructions would gain immense academic value if the analysis of historical context and the psychological trauma of the subjects guided the interpretation of their expressions as much as the portraits do.

    Thank you very much for your time and your openness to constructive criticism. I look forward to continuing to follow your wonderful projects.

    Yours sincerely,

    Viela Kalesi

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