The Project Gutenberg eBook of Hans Holbein the Younger, Volume 2 (of 2), by Arthur B. Chamberlain

Title: Hans Holbein the Younger, Volume 2 (of 2)

Author: Arthur B. Chamberlain

Release Date: December 8, 2022 [eBook #69502]

Language: English

Produced by: Tim Lindell, Barry Abrahamsen, and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This file was produced from images generously made available by The Internet Archive)

The cover image was created by the transcriber and is placed in the public domain.

Vol. II. Frontispiece
KING HENRY VIII
Earl Spencer’s Collection, Althorp

The German Steelyard in London, and Holbein’s connection with its members—Portraits of Georg Gisze—Hans of Antwerp—The Wedighs—Derich Born—Derich Tybis—Cyriacus Fallen—Derich Berck—“The Triumph of Riches”—“The Triumph of Poverty”—Triumphal arch designed by Holbein for the Steelyard on the occasion of Queen Anne Boleyn’s coronation.

THERE is no record to show in what part of London Holbein took up his residence upon his return to England. Possibly he may have settled in the house in the parish of St. Andrew Undershaft, in Aldgate Ward, in which he was residing in 1541; or there may be some truth in the tradition recorded by Walpole[1] that he lived for a time in a house on London Bridge, in close proximity to the Steelyard, where he was much occupied in painting various members of that colony of German merchants for the next year or two. There is nothing to indicate that he returned to Chelsea, for the purpose of finishing the More family picture, or that he received further commissions from Sir Thomas and his immediate circle of friends. During Holbein’s absence in Basel More had been made Lord Chancellor, but had resigned that office on May 16th, 1532, which was about the time of Holbein’s return to London. More, a generous man, had not amassed wealth in the public service, and on relinquishing office and the salary it carried with it, retired into private life on a modest income, not sufficient to permit a lavish patronage of art. Two other members of the More circle, and good friends to Holbein, Sir Henry Guldeford, and Archbishop Warham, died in the same year, the former in May and the latter in August, and thus the painter lost two other patrons immediately after his return. A certain John Wolf was the 2painter employed to provide the escutcheons, banners, and other decorations for Guldeford’s funeral.[2]

Whether Holbein’s appearance amid entirely new surroundings was due to these events is doubtful. It is natural to suppose that he would turn instinctively towards a society of fellow-countrymen, speaking the same language, and of similar habits and modes of thought, with whom he would feel most at home, men of comfortable fortunes, well able to afford the luxury of sitting for their portraits, and with the means also of finding him other remunerative work.

These merchants of the Hanseatic League in London formed a rich corporation of considerable numerical strength, whose beginnings went back to the very early days of English history. Some of its most valuable privileges and trading monopolies were granted it by Richard I and Edward III, in return for moneys lent, monopolies which hampered English trade for centuries afterwards. This colony had always occupied a part of the river bank above London Bridge, on the site of what is now the South-Eastern Railway Station in Cannon Street.[3] Their buildings were surrounded by a turreted wall, which stretched from the river northward to Thames Street, and from Allhallows Street on the east to Cosin (Cousins) Lane on the west, their property extending towards Dowgate. Entrance in the principal front in Thames Street was by three fortified gateways, above which the Imperial double-eagle floated, and within stood their old stone Guildhall, with a pleasant garden planted on one side with fruit trees and vines after the fashion of their fatherland, and, to the west of the main gate, vaults where Rhenish wine and other foreign delicacies were sold, a favourite place of resort for English citizens as well as foreigners. It has been generally supposed that its name, the Steelyard, or Stahlhof, arose from the great weighing-machine or steelyard 3which stood within its entrance.[4] The Guildhall and Council Chamber were situated in the western corner on Thames Street, and several passages, including Windgoose Alley, ran from that street to the river, giving access to the shops and small houses, the latter usually consisting of a bedroom and sitting-room for the merchant, and, at the back, stores and apartments for clerks and workmen. The corporation was a close one, and the rules by which its members were bound were as strict as those of a monastery. Within its precincts women were strictly forbidden; all married members had to live outside the walls, nor were guests allowed to lodge there unless also of the Hanseatic community. Each night at nine the gates were shut, and the Steelyard was then like a small walled German town in the midst of London. The breaking of its laws, or the practice of any bad habits, was followed by severe punishment. Its members, too, were obliged to take their share in the wider civic life of London. The Steelyard was represented by an Alderman and a Deputy, and, among other duties, each merchant had his allotted post in case of war, and was obliged to keep the necessary arms ready for the defence of the city.

Their privileges were so great that they had always been unpopular, and this dislike grew in strength until the reign of Henry VIII, when the first attempts were made to break up their monopolies, which ended, some sixty years later, in their complete overthrow. When Holbein first came among them, however, they still occupied the foremost place in the commercial life of London, and were an exceedingly rich and prosperous community. They served the King and Court in more ways than one, for they were constantly made use of for the despatch of letters abroad and for the translation of communications received from foreign countries. They made arrangements with their agents in Europe for the payment of the diets and other expenses of Henry’s ambassadors and special messengers, and much confidential continental news was received through their business houses. Books, prints, and various rare and artistic objects were also forwarded to them for delivery to the English court. Thomas Cromwell, in particular, made much use of them in the sending and receiving of foreign correspondence. They also entertained all important visitors, 4artists, craftsmen, and others of their own countrymen who visited England.

Holbein, however, does not appear to have come into contact with them during his first visit to England; no portrait, at least, of a Steelyard merchant of that date has survived, though he painted Niklaus Kratzer, who must have known many of them intimately. Possibly his introduction to them in 1532 was due to his friendship with the German astronomer. In any case, between 1532 and 1536, he painted a considerable number of them, chiefly small half-length portraits, in which the sitter is shown in his own room or office, dressed in sober black, with the accessories of his work scattered round him, and with letters in front of him containing his name and his address at the Steelyard. These portraits were most probably painted for presentation by the sitters to the League of which they were leading members, to be hung on the walls of the Council Chamber of their Guildhall, rather than for the purpose of sending them to family relations abroad. This would account for the presence of several of them in England to-day, for when the Guild was finally broken up in 1598 and much of its property scattered far and wide, some of the portraits remained in this country while others found their way abroad.

Vol. II., Plate 1
GEORG GISZE
Kaiser Friedrich Museum, Berlin

The portrait of Georg Gisze, now in the Berlin Museum (No. 586) (Pl. 1),[5] was one of the first, if not the first, of these likenesses of Steelyard merchants to be painted by Holbein. This portrait is not only the most elaborate work of the whole series, but the sitter was also one of the most important members of the League then in London. His name is spelt in more than one way on the picture itself, and other versions of it are to be found in the English State Papers. In the letter from his brother, which he holds in his hand, he is addressed, according to the Berlin Catalogue, as Jerg Gisze. The full address is “Dem erszamen Jergen Gisze to lunden in engelant mynen broder to handen.” Below the motto on the wall, beneath the shelf on the left—“Nulla sine merore voluptas”—in the sitter’s own handwriting, is the signature G. Gisze or Gyze. It has been read both ways, for the second letter may be taken either as an i followed by a long s, or, as two connected strokes representing the letter y. On other letters from foreign correspondents, tucked behind the wall-rails on the right, his name is also spelt Gisse and Ghisse, while in the 5distich inscribed on a cartellino fastened to the wall over his head it appears in its Latinised form of Gysen. This distich, which also contains the date and the sitter’s age, runs as follows:—

In days when spelling was largely phonetic it is not surprising to find proper names spelt in a variety of ways, and the Hanse merchants, in particular, received letters from correspondents in all parts of the world, speaking a variety of languages and dialects. According to the Berlin Catalogue, Georg Gisze was born on 2nd April 1497, so that he was of Holbein’s own age, and died in February 1562, and was a member of a leading Danzig family. Woltmann regarded him as a Swiss, and states that there was a family called Gysin settled in the neighbourhood of Basel, and that the name is still to be seen on numerous sign-boards in the adjacent small town of Liestall.[6] Miss Hervey, on the other hand, suggests that, however the name may be spelt, it was probably a variation of that of Gueiss, which was one of the most distinguished in the annals of the Steelyard.[7] The family belonged to Cologne, and Albert von Gueiss was a representative of the Steelyard at the Conference held at Bruges in 1520. In at least one entry in the Steelyard records this name is spelt Gisse. She suggests, therefore, that Georg Gisze may have been a younger brother or a son of this Albert von Gueiss. In his book on Holbein’s “Ambassadors” picture, Mr. W. F. Dickes, who, in his anxiety to prove that Holbein was not in England in 1532, conveniently ignores the evidence of the letter which Gisze holds in his hand, addressed to him “in London,” conclusive proof that the portrait was produced in this country, is of opinion that it was painted in Basel.[8] Little is known of its history since it left the walls of the Guildhall in Thames Street. It was in the Orleans Collection in 1727, and was purchased at the sale of that collection by Christian von Mechel.[9] Various attempts to induce the 6Basel Library to buy it proved unavailing. It was afterwards for a time in Basel, and in 1821 was added to the Solly Collection, passing later into the Berlin Gallery.

The first time the name of Georg Gisze occurs in the English State Papers is in 1522,[10] when he was twenty-four years of age. The paper is an English translation of a protection, dated Lyon, 26 June 1522, granted by Francis I to Gerrard van Werden, George Hasse, Henry Melman, Geo. Gyse, Geo. Strowse, Elard Smetyng, Hans Colynbrowgh, and Perpoynt Deovanter, merchants of the Hanse, during the war between him, the Emperor, and England. They are forbidden to deal in wheat, salt, “ollrons,” harness, and weapons of war. Deovanter appears to have been one of the leading merchants. At this period he went as a representative of the Steelyard on several missions to Francis for the purpose of the recovery of goods taken from their ships by the Captain of Boulogne. During his absence he gave power of attorney in a suit of his against George Byrom, of Salford, to several friends and fellow-merchants, among them “George Guyse,” and, it is interesting to note, “Th. Crumwell, of London, gent.”[11]

The next reference to Gisze is at Michaelmas, 1533, in a letter from Thomas Houth to the Earl of Kildare in Ireland,[12] respecting the death of a certain John Wolff, in which, speaking of some bills, he says,—“I ascertained at the Steelyard that the handwriting was his, by the evidence of Geo. Gyes, the alderman’s deputy, and others.” This letter proves that Gisze held an important position in the Steelyard, as Deputy to the Alderman, who was probably Barthold Beckman, of Hamburg.[13] Possibly his appointment to this position occasioned the painting of his portrait.

The portrait is life-size, and half-length, the sitter being turned to the right, the face towards the spectator, and the eyes turned slightly to the left. He is wearing a flat black cap over his fair hair, which is cut straight across the forehead and covers the ears; and a dress of rose-coloured silk with a sleeveless overcoat of black, and a fine white linen shirt. He is seated behind a table covered with a cloth of Eastern design, and is in the act of opening his brother’s letter. By him, on the table, stands a tall vase of Venetian glass with twisted handles, 7filled with carnations, and scattered in front of him are various objects used in his business, a seal, inkstand, scissors, quill pens, a leather case with metal bands and clasps, and a box containing money. From the shelves on the walls hang scales for weighing gold, a seal attached to a long chain, and a metal ball for string, with a damascened design and a band with the words “HEER EN” repeated round it.[14] Books and a box are upon the shelves, and tucked within the narrow wooden bars which run round the walls are parchment tags for seals and several letters with addresses in High German. On these occur the dates 1528 and 1531, while the names of the correspondents with which they are endorsed can be more or less clearly discerned, as well as the word “England.” Woltmann reads the names as “Tomas Bandz,” “Jergen ze Basel,” and “Hans Stolten.” This last letter is marked with the writer’s particular device, which also occurs on a second letter, and is very similar to the device on the letter in the picture of Derich Tybis in Vienna. The walls of his room are painted in greyish green, the paint shown as rubbed and discoloured here and there, and along the bars and shelves, which have been worn by constant use.

The painting of the numerous details is wonderful in its accurate realism, showing the closest observation and an evident delight in their perfect rendering. It has been suggested, as the picture contains many more accessories than in his other portraits of members of the Steelyard, that Holbein took particular pains with it as the first of a possible series, and that it was a kind of “show-piece,” in order that his clients might see of what he was capable. This superb portrait, which is in a better state of preservation than most of Holbein’s existing works, is finer in its clear, luminous colour and more delicate in its drawing than any other of his pictures of this period. It is almost Flemish in the minuteness and care of its finish and in its cool, clear tones. All the objects of still-life which surround the sitter, which are placed about him as naturally as though the artist had come upon him suddenly when engaged upon his daily business, and had there and then painted him, without arranging or posing, whether of silk, or linen, or gold, or steel, or glass, are painted with a fidelity to nature never excelled by the Dutchmen or Flemings of the following century, 8who devoted their whole career to the rendering of still-life. In Holbein’s portrait, however, all these carefully-wrought minor details, beautiful in themselves as they may be, in no way force themselves on the attention to the detriment of the portrait itself, which stands out as a vivid representation of the sitter’s personality, in which the essentials of his character have been seen with an unerring eye, and set down upon the panel with an unerring hand. We get here the young German merchant to the very life, precise, deliberate and orderly in the transaction of his affairs, with strongly-marked German features, long nose, and determined chin, a living presentment which only a master could have produced.

Ruskin’s glowing description of the picture is well known, but it is so true and so eloquent that a sentence from it may be quoted:—

“Every accessory is perfect with a fine perfection; the carnations in the glass by his side; the ball of gold, chased with blue enamel, suspended on the wall; the books, the steelyard, the papers on the table, the seal ring with its quartered bearings—all intensely there, and there in beauty of which no one could have dreamed that even flowers or gold were capable, far less parchment or steel. But every change of shade is felt, every rich and rubied line of petal followed, every subdued gleam in the soft blue of the enamel and bending of the gold touched with a hand whose patience of regard creates rather than paints. The jewel itself was not so precious as the rays of enduring light which form it, beneath that errorless hand. The man himself what he was—not more; but to all conceivable proof of sight, in all aspect of life or thought—not less. He sits alone in his accustomed room, his common work laid out before him; he is conscious of no presence, assumes no dignity, bears no sudden or superficial look of care or interest, lives only as he lived—but for ever. It is inexhaustible. Every detail of it wins, retains, rewards the attention with a continually increasing sense of wonderfulness. It is also wholly true. So far as it reaches, it contains the absolute facts of colour, form, and character, rendered with an unaccusable faithfulness.”[15]

Vol. II., Plate 2
HANS OF ANTWERP
1532
Windsor Castle

The portrait of Hans of Antwerp, in Windsor Castle (Pl. 2),[16] 9belongs to the summer of the same year, 1532, and was one of the earliest of the Steelyard series. It is in oil on panel, and has darkened with age, and has suffered to some extent from repaintings. It represents the half-length figure of a middle-aged man, about three-quarters the size of life. He is turned to the right, seated at a table, upon which his elbows rest, and he is about to cut the string of a letter with a long knife. He has thick bushy hair and beard, brown in colour, and brown eyes, and is wearing a dark overcoat, which may have been originally dark green in colour, edged with a broad band of brown fur, and beneath it a brown dress and a white shirt with the collar embroidered with black Spanish work. On his head is a flat black cap. The table is covered with a dark green cloth, and upon it, in front of him, are placed a pad of paper with a quill pen resting on it, some coins and a seal engraved with the letter W. The head, strongly lightened, stands out against a background of grey-brown wall, with a strip of darker colour on the right-hand side of the panel. He wears a signet ring on the first finger of his left hand, and a smaller ring on the little finger of the right.

The letter which he holds in his hand has a superscription in crabbed Teutonic writing, which Woltmann, after careful examination, deciphered as follows:—

The parts in brackets are hidden in the original by the knife, and have been added conjecturally by him, so that the whole inscription would run in English: “To the honourable Hans of Antwerp in London, in the Steelyard, these to hand.” The words “ersamen” and “Stallhoff” are distinct, but the “Anwerpen” is less clear, and only the first letter of the Christian name is certain.

The brown under-dress the sitter is wearing certainly has some appearance of the leather apron worn by goldsmiths which Woltmann declared it to be;[17] and this, together with the gold coins on the table, such as goldsmiths were in the habit of exhibiting in their shops, he regarded as additional proof that the portrait represents the goldsmith, 10Hans of Antwerp, Holbein’s close friend and one of his executors.[18] There is considerable probability that this ascription is correct, though it is by no means absolutely certain. On the paper-pad lying on the table there is an inscription, evidently in the sitter’s handwriting, giving his age and the date. Even this inscription is not absolutely clear. Woltmann reads it:—

The second “A.D.,” however, is evidently wrong. Mr. Law[19] reads it as a possible “Aug.” for August, and is doubtful about the word “Julii.” Both these writers fail to decipher the sitter’s age, but it appears to be “53,” or, perhaps, “33,” the latter agreeing better with the apparent age of the sitter.

The W. on the seal affords some evidence against the portrait being that of John of Antwerp. Woltmann calls it “the device of his trading house,” and in this Mr. Law follows him. It is much more probable, however, that it is the initial of his surname. The seal is of a similar shape to those in the portraits of Georg Gisze and Derich Tybis. In the former the lettering is illegible, but in the latter it is plainly “D. T.” Before Hans of Antwerp’s surname was known, Woltmann’s suggestion was not out of place, but Mr. Lionel Cust[20] has recently discovered it to have been Van der Gow, which does not accord with the letter on the seal. Among the numerous references to John of Antwerp in the State Papers and elsewhere he is never once spoken of as belonging to the Steelyard, whereas the picture in question is in all probability a portrait of some merchant of the Hanseatic League. More than one German merchant of the Steelyard whose surname began with W is mentioned in the records, such as Gerard van Werden and Ulric Wise, while one of the leading jewellers of Henry’s reign was Morgan Wolf, though he was almost certainly a Welshman. However, until further evidence is forthcoming, the name Hans of Antwerp must stand as the sitter for this portrait, and it has much in its favour.

As the friend and witness and administrator of Holbein’s will, the question of the true portrait of John of Antwerp is of unusual interest. 11The two men appear to have been closely associated, and there is no doubt that Holbein supplied him with designs. One such design is well known—the drawing for a beautiful drinking-cup in the Basel Gallery upon which is inscribed the name “Hans Von Ant....” (Pl. 42).[21] Mr. Lionel Cust conjectures that the cup given by Cromwell to the King on New Year’s Day, 1539, made by John of Antwerp, was this identical cup; but it hardly appears probable that an object made for such a purpose would have the maker’s name placed upon it so prominently on a broad band running round its centre. It may be suggested that it is more likely to have been intended by the maker for presentation to the Hanseatic League to form part of the corporation plate of that body kept in the Guildhall of the Steelyard.

John of Antwerp’s name occurs frequently in the private accounts of Thomas Cromwell for the years 1537-39, and Mr. Lionel Cust has gathered together much interesting information about him. In a letter from Cromwell to the Goldsmiths’ Company we learn that he had been settled in London since 1515, but the first reference to him Mr. Cust finds is in March 1537, in the Privy Purse Expenses of the Princess Mary, which runs: “Item payed for goldsmythes workes for my ladies grace to John of Andwarpe iiij li, xvij s, vij d.” There is, however, an earlier reference, and one of considerable interest, in the State Papers, in a letter from one Richard Cavendish to the Duke of Suffolk, dated Norton, 5th June 1534, which shows that John Van Andwerp was at that time employed with a certain Hans De Fromont in searching for a gold mine at Norton. “They are,” says Cavendish, “applying themselves with diligence to find the mine. Here is the greatest diversity of earth and stones, for the stones in the gravel in most places appear to be very gold. Many assays have been made to prove it, but nothing found as yet, and it is believed the glitter ‘is but the scum of the metal which groweth beneath the ground.’ They have now begun to dig pits to get at the principal vein. The people are as glad as ever he saw to further the matter, for in old evidences the place is called Golden Norton, which proves that gold may be found there. He sees no great forwardness as yet, but prays God they may find some.”[22]

Cromwell employed him in a number of ways. In December 1537[23] 12he received 15s. for setting a great ruby, and 29s. for the gold in the ring. In November 1538[24] he was at work on the cup already mentioned for a New Year’s Gift to Henry, for which purpose he received 52 oz. of gold, and was paid nearly £20. Other work during these years consisted in making a George, setting stones in rings, making chains and trenchers, and repairing various Georges, Garters, and other jewellery belonging to the Lord Privy Seal, full details of which will be found in Mr. Cust’s paper, the last entry being dated 15th December 1539.[25]

An entry in the Book of Payments of the Treasurer of the Chamber for April 1539[26] shows him in another capacity, one, as already noted, in which the foreign traders in England were frequently employed by the Court. He received one shilling from the King’s purse for forwarding letters of importance to Christopher Mount and Thomas Panell, “his gracis servauntes and oratours in Jarmayne.”[27]

In 1537 Hans of Antwerp’s name occurs in the return for Subsidies of Aliens in England, among foreigners dwelling in the parish of St. Nicholas Acon, as “John Andwarpe, straunger, xxx li., xxx s.” In a similar list for the same parish in 1541 he is given for the first time his proper name: “John Vander Gow, alias John Andwerp, in goodes, xxx li., xxx s.” Mr. Cust suggests that his name may have been Van der Goes. This assessment of his goods at £30 and the tax on it of thirty shillings was the customary rate for foreigners. Nicholas Lyzarde, Elizabeth’s serjeant-painter,[28] was assessed to the same amount—but Holbein was taxed at the higher rate of £3 on his salary of £30, as it was the custom to tax “lands, fees and annuities” at double the rate of goods.

In April of the same year Van der Gow was anxious to obtain the 13freedom of the Goldsmiths’ Company as a step towards being admitted to the right of citizenship in London. Cromwell’s letter, recommending him to the Company “most hartely,” states that he had already lived twenty-six years in London, had married an Englishwoman, by whom he had many children, and purposed continuing in London for the rest of his life. This desire to become a naturalised Englishman might be taken as some evidence that he was not a member of the Steelyard confraternity.

From the register of the church of St. Nicholas Acon, in Lombard Street, where the goldsmiths have always congregated, we learn that he had a son, Augustine Anwarpe, baptized on 27th November 1542, and a second son, Roger, on 10th December 1547; that on three successive days in September 1543 three of his servants, John Ducheman, Jane, his maid, and Richard, were buried; that a fourth servant was buried on the 10th August 1548; and that his son Augustine was buried on 1st July 1550.[29] There can be little doubt that the three servants died of the plague which was raging in London in September 1543. Holbein was almost certainly another of its victims, and Mr. Cust suggests that he may very probably have caught the infection in John Van der Gow’s house.

The portrait, it is to be supposed, like Holbein’s other representations of Steelyard merchants, was very possibly presented to the Guild, and would remain hanging in their Guildhall until they were expelled by Elizabeth in 1598. “When in 1606,” says Woltmann, quoting from Lappenberg, “under James I, the Steelyard was given back to its possessors, the rooms were found in an evil condition, and all movables, such as tables, seats, bedsteads, and even panels and glass windows, were almost entirely stolen. That under such circumstances a sparing hand watched over the pictures is scarcely to be expected.”[30] The portrait of Hans of Antwerp, whatever its earlier adventures may have been, was in the collection of Charles I, in which it was No. 29, and is described in his catalogue as: “Done by Holbein. Item. Upon a cracked board, the picture of a merchant, in a black cap and habit having a letter with a knife in his hand cutting the seal thread of the letter; a seal lying by on a green table; bought by Sir Harry Vane and given to the King.” The crack in the panel is still plainly 14visible. It was valued by the Commonwealth Commissioners at £100, and sold for that sum. It reappears, however, in James II’s catalogue, No. 499: “By Holbein. A man’s head, in a black cap, with a letter and penknife in his hand.” It is possible that it is the picture by “Holbin” of “a Dutchman sealing a letter,” which was in the Duke of Buckingham’s collection at York House in 1635,[31] from which it may have passed into that of Charles I. The picture, though it has not the richness and transparency of colour of the “Gisze,” or its extreme delicacy of execution and luxuriance of detail, is a vigorous and life-like representation of a somewhat stolid German, painted with the truth and sincerity which Holbein brought to everything he touched.

The two small roundels, which hitherto have always been regarded as likenesses of Holbein himself, undoubtedly represent, as Dr. Ganz has recently pointed out, the same individual as the sitter in the Windsor picture, who, until his identity is finally settled, it is most convenient to call Hans of Antwerp. The first is the beautiful little painting on oak in the Salting collection,[32] in which the sitter is shown in full-face, with a flat black cap, a gown lined with light-coloured fur, and a dark under-coat or vest, cut straight across the top, as in most of Holbein’s other Steelyard portraits. The left hand only is shown, with a ring on the first finger. On the background on either side of the head is the faded inscription “ETATIS SVÆ 35.” It was possibly painted a year or two later than the Windsor portrait, to which the likeness is very marked. If, however, the sitter really represents Hans of Antwerp, and he was painted a second time by Holbein about 1534-5, when 35 years of age, he must have been only a boy when he settled in London in 1515. The second roundel is in Lord Spencer’s collection at Althorp,[33] and this, too, has always been regarded as a portrait of Holbein by himself. Here again the likeness to the Windsor picture is a strong one, though the opposite side of the face is seen, as he is shown in three-quarters profile to the spectator’s left. There are slight variations in the dress, the undervest being lower, and disclosing more of the white shirt. Some critics 15regard it as a genuine work by Holbein, but Dr. Ganz places it among the doubtful and wrongly-attributed pictures. He suggests that it is probably one of the two roundels considered to be self-portraits by Holbein which C. van Mander saw in Amsterdam in 1604, and was engraved by A. Stock as such in 1612 and published by H. Hondius. There is a replica of it in the Provinzial Museum in Hanover.[34] All three works evidently represent the same man, and at about the same age.

In the same year, 1532, he painted another goldsmith, Hans von Zürich, but the picture has disappeared, and is now only known from the engraving Hollar made of it in 1647, when it was in the Arundel collection. In the engraving he is shown at half-length, full-face, the body turned slightly to the left, and is a thin man, with a pleasant expression. It is inscribed on the top: “Hans von Zürch, Goltshmidt. Hans Holbein, 1532,” and below, “W. Hollar fecit, 1647, ex collectione Arundeliana,” and has a dedication by the publisher, H. Vander Borcht, to Matthäus Merian.[35] The date indicates that Hans von Zürich must have been living in London at that time, though his name does not occur in the State Papers.

One other portrait of a German merchant by Holbein was painted in the year 1532.[36] It is in the collection of Count von Schönborn in Vienna, and is one of a pair of portraits of brothers or near relations, members of the Wedigh family of Cologne.[37] They hung together until 1865, in which year the finer one of the two, dated 1533, was acquired by Herr B. Suermondt, of Aix-la-Chapelle, and is now in the Berlin Gallery, having been purchased in 1874, together with another fine portrait by Holbein of an unknown young man, from the Suermondt collection. The close relationship of the two sitters is proved by the exactly similar coat of arms on the enamelled ring each one is wearing. In the first edition of his book Woltmann gave it as his opinion that they were Englishmen, but afterwards came to the conclusion that both portraits represented German Steelyard merchants. The belief that they were Englishmen was afterwards strengthened by a communication to the Berlin authorities from Privy Councillor Dielitz, who, from the coat of arms on the rings, held that the pictures represented 16two members of the English family of Trelawney. This ascription, however, has been proved to be wrong, and it may be pointed out that the motto inscribed on the paper projecting from the book in the Vienna portrait,—“Veritas odium parit” (“Truth brings hatred”), is not the present motto of the Trelawney family. On the side of the same book, painted on the edges of the leaves, are the letters “H E R. W I D.,” and more recent research has established the fact that the two men were members of the Wedigh family. Members of this patrician family of Cologne had been connected with the London Steelyard since 1480. In this connection it is interesting to note that the seal in the so-called “Hans of Antwerp” picture is engraved with the letter “W,” which suggests some possibility that he, too, may have been a Wedigh.

The 1532 picture in the Schönborn collection is a small half-length. The subject, who is seated at the back of a table, is turned to the right, with head almost full-front and looking at the spectator. His right arm rests on the table, and he holds his gloves in his left hand. His hair, cut straight across his forehead, covers his ears, and he is clean-shaven. He is wearing the usual dark overcoat with deep fur collar, and an inner collar or lining of lighter fur, opened sufficiently to show a part of his embroidered under-dress, the sleeves of which are of watered or patterned silk, and a white pleated shirt gathered round the neck in a small frill. The customary flat black cap is on his head. On the table to the left is a leather-bound book with two clasps, with the artist’s initials on the cover, and a piece of paper projecting from between the leaves on which is written the Latin motto already quoted. On the plain blue background is inscribed on either side of the head, “ANNO. 1532.” and “ÆTATIS.SVÆ. 29.” It is a sympathetic and simple rendering of a young man of serious expression, in which both the beardless face, of a somewhat reddish complexion, and the two hands are very finely painted. Woltmann conjectured that the Latin motto indicated that the book on the table might be one of those writings which the German reformers were at that time busily engaged in smuggling into England, the secret dissemination of which neither Wolsey or More could stay, in spite of the drastic methods they employed to stamp it out. Although possessing many privileges, the men of the Steelyard were by no means free from persecutions of this nature.

The companion picture, in the Berlin Gallery (No. 586B) (Pl. 3), 17represents Hermann Hillebrandt Wedigh.[38] Like that of his brother, it is a small half-length. He stands directly facing the spectator, the left hand holding his buff-coloured gloves, and the right half hidden by the heavy dark-brown cloak, with black velvet collar and velvet at the wrists, the folds of which are finely arranged and painted. This cloak lacks the customary fur collar. The white shirt, partly open and showing the bare chest beneath, is tied in the front by long strings passed through a white button, and the embroidered collar is almost hidden by his beard. A flat black cap is on his head, of the type worn by all the Steelyard merchants in Holbein’s portraits. The hair, beard, and long moustache are fair, the separate hairs being indicated with almost microscopic care. The eyes are brown, the left one being decidedly smaller than the right, and there is a corresponding difference in the development of the two sides of the face. There are no accessories of any kind, and upon the plain blue background, on either side of the head, is inscribed, in gold letters: “ANNO. 1533.” and “ÆTATIS SVÆ. 39.” The gold ring is enamelled in red, white and black, and in the circle round the coat of arms there are some letters now undecipherable. This is one of the finest and most sympathetic portraits ever painted by Holbein. The face, in spite of its slight irregularity, is one of great charm and much sweetness of expression. The drawing of the hands and mouth is particularly fine.[39]

Three other portraits of Steelyard merchants bear the date 1533: Derich Born at Windsor, Derich Tybis at Vienna, and Cyriacus Fallen 18at Brunswick. The portrait of Derich Born (Pl. 4 (1)),[40] in the royal collection at Windsor Castle, painted when he was twenty-three, is, after the “Gisze” and “Hermann Wedigh” portraits, perhaps the most attractive of the Steelyard series. It is slightly under life-size, the figure shown nearly to the waist, turned to the right, and the head, upon which the light falls strongly from above on the right, nearly in full-face. His right elbow rests on a stone ledge or parapet which runs across the picture, the left hand placed across the right wrist, and a gold signet-ring with a coat of arms on his forefinger. He wears a flat black cap, black silk dress, and a white shirt with a collar of so-called Spanish work of black silk thread, very delicately painted. He is beardless, and has chestnut-brown hair, cut straight across the forehead and hiding the ears in the customary fashion.

On the flat stonework below the ledge on which his arm rests is inscribed, in large Roman letters as though cut in the stone, the following Latin couplet:

(“If you were to add a voice this would be Derich, his very self; and you would doubt whether a painter or a parent had produced him.”)

Below this runs, in slightly smaller letters of the same type:

The background is of a dark greenish blue against which stand out some branches and leaves of a vine or fig tree. It is painted in cool and delicate tones, with flesh tints of a pale brown, in which it bears a close resemblance to the portrait of Georg Gisze. It is marked, too, by the same simplicity and restraint, and air of quiet and dignified repose, and searching truth and insight in the rendering of what must have been a very attractive nature, qualities which make Holbein’s portraiture so great.

Vol. II., Plate 3
HERMANN HILLEBRANDT WEDIG
Kaiser Friedrich Museum, Berlin

Vol. II., Plate 4a
DERICH BORN
1533
Windsor Castle

This is the only one of several portraits of the series without letters or papers bearing the name and address of the sitter which can be said with absolute certainty to represent one of the London Steelyard merchants. Mr. W. F. Dickes suggests that it represents the eldest son and successor of Theodorichus de Born, the printer, of Deventer 19and Nimeguen, who issued the Netherland New Testament in 1532, and he quotes a reference to a Theodorichus de Born de Novimagio acting as Secretary to the Faculty of Arts at Cologne University, and also to a Derichus de Born who had a licence to preach. “Remembering,” he says, “that Erasmus spent his schooldays at Deventer, and that Holbein owed to him several of his introductions, I think my suggestion deserves to be considered. At any rate, there is no necessity to assume, as is done without a tittle of evidence, that this young scholar was a member of the Stahlhof! Nor does the presence of this portrait at Windsor prove that it was painted in England.”[41]

Mr. Dickes, whose chief object is to prove, for the purposes of his theory about the “Ambassadors,” that none of these Steelyard portraits was painted in England, starts by misquoting the inscription on the picture, which he gives as “Derichus si vocem addas de Born,” an extraordinary mixing of the first and third lines. There is no “de Born” in it, it is distinctly “Der. Born,” and though the young man depicted may have been a member of Theodorichus de Born’s family, as he suggests, he was certainly a member of the Steelyard, and known in London as Derich Born. In the Calendars of Letters and Papers, under the heading of “Ordnance,” a paper is printed which gives a list of “payments made by Erasmus Kyrkenar, the King’s armourer, by his Majesty’s command, from 15th Sept, to 13th Oct. 28 Hen. VIII” (1536), for wages of armourers, and the providing of armour, harness, &c., in connection with the Rebellion in the North. Among the items included in his account is the following:

“For various bundles of harness bought of Mr. Locke, merchant of London, and of Dyrycke Borne, merchant of the Steelyard,” &c.[42] This, though it does not actually prove him to have been in London in 1533, shows that he was most certainly here three years later as a member of the Steelyard. Evidence of his presence in London in the years 1542-49 is to be found in the Inventare hansischer Archive des 16. Jahrhunderts, I, quoted by Dr. Ganz,[43] who states that he was a merchant of Cologne.

The picture is on oak, 1 ft. 11½ in. high by 1 ft. 7¼ in. wide. It was at one time in the Arundel collection, and is entered in the 1655 inventory as “Derichius a Born.” It is possible that the earl owned more than one of the Steelyard portraits, for there are two entries of 20portraits of men with black birettas. On the back is the brand of Charles I, “C.R.” crowned, though it is not described in his catalogue. There is a second portrait of Derich Born by Holbein, a small oval of about 3 in. high (9 × 8 mm.), on paper, in the Alte Pinakothek at Munich, giving the head and shoulders only.[44] It is painted in oil on paper, and has suffered somewhat from retouching, but is still an excellent example of the small portraits in oil on wood or paper, usually enclosed in a case of wood or ivory, which Holbein was fond of painting at this period, closely akin to his true miniatures of a rather later date. In the Munich version the position is reversed, the sitter being turned to the right, and the face not quite so fully to the front. The workmanship, more particularly of the collar, is as fine as in the larger Windsor portrait. His name and age and the date are given, but the last figures and letters have been cut away, probably when fitting it into the frame, so that all that is left of the inscription on the background, on either side of the head, now reads:

There is every probability that the completed date was 1533, and that the little picture was produced at about the same time as the Windsor version, though the sitter looks slightly younger, and while the more important work was painted for a place on the walls of the Hanse Guildhall, the lesser one may well have been done for sending to the sitter’s relations abroad. The Munich catalogue states that it is from the Elector Palatine’s palace at Mannheim, but otherwise nothing is known of its history.

Vol. II., Plate 4b
DERICH TYBIS
1533
Imperial Gallery, Vienna

The half-length portrait of Derich Tybis, of Duisburg (Pl. 4 (2)), about half the size of life, in the Vienna Gallery (No. 1485), is of the same date, 1533.[45] It is a full-face representation of a young man, with dark brown eyes and hair, his double chin and upper lip being clean-shaven and tinged with blue. In his hands, which rest on a table in front of him, he is holding a letter which he is about to open. He wears the usual heavy, black, sleeveless cloak or overcoat, with a deep collar of fur, and a smaller inner collar of lighter fur. The fore-sleeves of his 21under-dress are of dark-brown velvet. The open fur collar allows a glimpse of a finely-pleated white shirt, with a neck-band of a conventional design of holly leaves worked in gold thread in place of the more usual black Spanish embroidery. He wears two rings on the forefinger of his left hand, one with an oval green stone in a claw setting. The table is covered with an olive-green cloth, and lying upon it are a second letter, a paper with an inscription, a seal, quill-pen, sealing-wax, and a circular inkstand in two divisions, with an ink-well in one half and some gold coins in the other.

The picture has suffered some damage, more particularly in the colour. The ground, which was originally azure blue, has turned to a greenish tone, and the shadows of the flesh are now too grey; but the masterly draughtmanship is still there and the extraordinary insight into character. Here again the fine and expressive hands at once attract attention.

The letter he holds in his hands is from his father, and is addressed “Dem ersamen Deryck tybis von Duysburch alwyl London vff wi ... dgyss mynem lesten Sun....” (“To the honourable Derich Tybis of Duisburg, at the time in London, in Windgyss, my dear son”). This address shows that Tybis was living in Windgoose Alley, one of the passage-ways running through the Steelyard, with the houses and shops of the members on either side.

On the open paper lying on the table is inscribed, in imitation of the sitter’s handwriting:

“Da ick was 33 jar alt was ick Deryck Tybis to London dyser gestalt en hab dyser gelicken den mark gesch[rieben] myt myner eigenen Hant en was Holpein malt anno 1533. per my Deryck [device here] Tybis fan Drys[burch].”

(“When I was 33 years old, I, Deryck Tybis, in London, had this appearance, and I have marked this portrait with my device in my own hand, and it was painted by Holbein in the year 1533, by me Deryck (here stands the device) Tybis von Drys....”)

The device, a combination of crosses, is repeated on the seal on the table, with the letters D.T., reversed, on either side of it. There is a somewhat similar device on some of the letters in Georg Gisze’s portrait. The address on the second letter, lying in front of him, is now almost illegible. There is no inscription on the background. The writer has found no reference to Tybis in the English State Papers.

22The fourth Steelyard portrait of 1533, that of Cyriacus Fallen, in the Brunswick Gallery,[46] is also a half-length, about half the size of life. Like Derich Tybis, the sitter is shown full-face, looking at the spectator. His hair is cut in the customary Steelyard fashion, and he is clean-shaven. His black cap is set rather jauntily on one side, and his black overcoat has a very heavy fur collar, while his fore-sleeves are of brown silk with a pattern, as in the Wedigh portrait. The neck of his white embroidered shirt is just visible over the collar. In his hands he holds his gloves and two letters, superscribed with his name and address in London. These addresses are not very legible. Dr. Woltmann at first supposed the Christian name to be Ambrose, but further examination proved it to be Cyriacus. One of the inscriptions is: “Dem Ersamen syryacussfalen zu luden vp Stalhoff sy disser briff”; and the other: “Dem Ersamen f. ... syriakus fallenn in Lunde ... stalhuff sy dies....”

On the green background, on either side of the sitter’s head, is inscribed his motto, “Patient in all things,” his age, and the date:

Fallen has a broad face, and a somewhat stolid expression; like his fellow merchants, he has been placed upon the panel with absolute truth and precision, without a touch of flattery. The eyes, hands, and dress are still in excellent condition, but the head, unfortunately, has suffered greatly in the course of time, and has been much rubbed and overcleaned, and retouched in numerous places.[47]

Vol. II., Plate 5
DERICH BERCK
1536
Lord Leconfield’s collection
Petworth

There is a gap of three years before the next and last of this series of portraits of Hanse merchants is reached, that of Derich Berck or Berg of Cologne, in Lord Leconfield’s collection at Petworth (#Pl. 5#),[48] which is dated 1536. He is represented life-size, at half-length, and full face, with brown hair and beard, and black dress and cap. Both hands are shown, and the left, resting on a table with a red cover, holds a letter addressed:—“Dem Ersame’ v[n]d fromen Derich berk i. London upt. Stalhoff,” together with the motto besad dz end (“Consider the 23end”), and the trade-mark of his business house. On the table is a slip of paper with the Latin motto, “Olim meminisse juvabit,” selected by Berck, says Dr. Ganz, to indicate that Holbein’s brush will secure him immortality.[49] In the top right-hand corner are the date and the sitter’s age, “AN. 1536. ÆTA: 30” twice over, a later inscription being painted over the faded original one. The background is blue, with a green curtain on the left.

The writer has not seen this picture, but it is described as follows by Dr. Ganz in the Burlington Magazine:—“The merchant’s cloth and cap are black, but not dark; the heavy silk reflects the light in a greenish colour finely observed. The background is blue, of the same blue as in the portrait of Richard Southwell at Florence executed in the same year. It is enriched by a green curtain with red strings, giving an opportunity for the artist—like the red cloth on the table—for introducing other tones into his composition, such as black, besides the main notes of blue and flesh colour. The brightest point in this profound harmony of colours, a part of the white shirt with black embroidery, is placed just under the face and makes the fresh and lively expression of it stronger. The light shines with a rare splendour over this man’s healthy face and is reflected in the grey-blue eyes, which look so frank and kindly.” This picture has suffered from over-painting, but it remains a splendid and virile example of Holbein’s portraiture. There is a poor copy of it in the Alte Pinakothek at Munich,[50] purchased in 1899 from a local picture-dealer. It had come originally from France, and was regarded as an unfinished portrait by Holbein of an unknown man. The Munich catalogue describes it as a school-replica.

To Holbein the Steelyard proved to be in all ways a fruitful source of income. Not only was he busily engaged for some years in painting individual members of the League, but he was also employed by them in their corporate capacity upon an important work of decoration for their Guildhall, and in at least one other direction. This decoration consisted of two large allegorical paintings in tempera representing “The Triumph of Riches” and “The Triumph of Poverty.” No record exists as to the date of this work, but it is reasonable to suppose that the commission was given him in 1532 or 1533, at the time when he was in constant attendance within the 24precincts of the Steelyard for the purpose of painting some of its leading members in the midst of their daily occupations.

These decorative paintings have long since disappeared, but the original design for “The Triumph of Riches” exists, as well as numerous copies of both compositions, so that it is possible to gain some idea of their beauty and importance. These allegories, which contained many life-size figures, were not painted on the walls, but on canvas, and so easily removable. They added greatly to the artist’s reputation in this country, and before the close of the sixteenth century they were celebrated throughout Europe among artists and connoisseurs of painting. Carel von Mander says that Federigo Zuccaro, about the year 1574, made two drawings from them, and declared them to be equal to anything accomplished by Raphael, and that after his return to Italy he told Goltzius the painter that they were even finer than any wall-paintings from Raphael’s brush.

The two pictures remained in the Guildhall of the Steelyard until 1598, when it was closed by Queen Elizabeth, who at the same time expelled the Germans from their houses. For some years the place remained desolate, and when, in 1606, under James I, the buildings were restored to the League, most of the property left behind was found to have been stolen or badly damaged. The glory and prosperity of the Steelyard, indeed, had completely vanished, never to be fully restored again, and when the affairs of the Company in London were finally wound up, the two pictures were presented by the League, through their representative, the house-master, Holtscho, on January 22nd, 1616 (old style) to Henry, Prince of Wales, like his brother, Charles I, a patron of the fine arts. Holtscho, in describing the event, says: “I cannot, also, leave it unnoticed, that although these works are old, and have lost their freshness, yet His Highness, as a lover of painting, and as the works of the master, specially this work, have been highly commended, has taken great pleasure in them, as I have myself perceived, and have also heard from himself.”[51] The researches of Dr. Lappenberg have placed these facts beyond doubt, thus disproving the old legend that the pictures were destroyed when still hanging on the walls of the banqueting-hall of the Easterlings during the Great Fire in 1666.

25It has been generally supposed that on the death of Prince Henry, two years after they were presented to him, the pictures passed into the possession of Charles I; and as they were not included among the pictures of that King’s collection sold by order of the Commonwealth in 1648-53, Dr. Lappenberg concluded that they must have remained at Whitehall until destroyed in the fire at that palace in 1698. Further evidence, however, appears to contradict this conclusion. In Van der Doort’s carefully-prepared catalogue of Charles I’s collection, although several less important works by Holbein are included, among them two miniatures, these two celebrated pictures are not mentioned. Again, Sandrart, in his autobiography, describes the two compositions in some detail, after seeing them in 1627 in the Earl of Arundel’s possession, in the long garden gallery in Arundel House. He does not say whether they were pictures or drawings, so that they may have been only the original designs; it is much more probable, however, that they were the large paintings, as Sandrart speaks of them first of all, as the chief of Holbein’s works belonging to the Earl, and afterwards describes three of his best known portraits, hanging in the same gallery, those of Erasmus, Sir Thomas More, and a “Princess of Lorraine” (the Duchess of Milan), which seems to indicate that Lord Arundel possessed the large works. It has been suggested that they may have been presented by Charles I to the Earl; but it is more likely that they were obtained by exchange with that monarch. Later on they were taken abroad with the rest of the collection by the Countess of Arundel, and were in Amsterdam at the time of her death in 1654. In the inventory then drawn up they are merely described as “Triumpho della Richezza” and “Triumpho della Poverta.” Probably they were among the pictures hastily sold by Lord Stafford in that town immediately after his mother’s decease.[52] The last trace of their history to be found is in a paragraph in Félibien’s Entretiens sur les Vies et sur les Ouvrages des plus excellents Peintres anciens et modernes, published in 1666, in which he speaks of them as having been brought from Flanders to Paris: “Il y avait encore dans la maison des Ostrelins, dans la salle du Convive, deux tableaux à détrempe, qu’on a veûs icy depuis quelques années, et qu’on avait envoyez de Flandres.”[53]

26If Félibien is correct, the pictures had once more come into the possession of the Hanseatic League. They were, no doubt, purchased in Amsterdam by that body, and forwarded to Paris. No further record of them has been discovered, and as they were already in a damaged state when presented to the Prince of Wales, the probability is that they have perished.

Vol. II., Plate 6
THE TRIUMPH OF RICHES
Design for the wall-decoration in the Guildhall of the London Steelyard Merchants Pen-and-wash drawing heightened with white
Louvre, Paris

Holbein’s original sketch for “The Triumph of Riches,” a masterly pen drawing washed with Indian-ink, and touched with white in the high lights, is in the Louvre (#Pl. 6#).[54] A similar drawing in the British Museum, purchased in 1854, which at one time was attributed to Holbein himself, is said by Woltmann to be a tracing of the Louvre example; but it has no appearance of being traced, and is certainly a copy, perhaps by an Italian.[55] The heads and attributes are given a Raphaelesque air, strikingly different from the Flemish style of a second drawing in the Museum, of the second composition, “The Triumph of Poverty.”[56] This latter is in black and red chalks and pen, washed with Indian-ink, and heightened with white, on a blue background, and was acquired in 1894 from the Eastlake collection. Lady Eastlake possessed a similar drawing of the “Riches.” Both are in all probability by Lucas Vorsterman the younger, and were purchased by Sir Charles Eastlake from the Walpole sale in 1842 for sixteen guineas. They appear to be copies, as Vertue suggested, made for engraving purposes by Lucas Vorsterman from the drawings done by Zuccaro in 1574; or possibly from the original paintings when in Amsterdam. Vorsterman certainly engraved one, if not both subjects, though only his engraving of the “Poverty” is known. These drawings,[57] at one time in the Lely collection, were in Buckingham House, before it was purchased for a royal palace, and were sold as allegorical works by Van Dyck, and bought by Horace Walpole, who regarded the “Riches” as by Vorsterman, and the “Poverty” as by Zuccaro; but the latter, like the former, is decidedly Flemish in style.[58] 27Sandrart possessed copies, in all probability those made by Zuccaro, which were afterwards in the Crozat collection, and when that collection was sold passed into that of Privy Councillor Fleischmann, of Strasburg, and while in his possession were engraved for Von Mechel’s “œuvres de Jean Holbein,” and inscribed “Zuccari delin. 1574.” All further traces of these Zuccaro drawings have now been lost.

The British Museum possesses a very rare and interesting engraving, dated 1561,[59] and inscribed “Faicte par Maistre Hans Holbeyn tres excellent pointre. Et imprime par Johan Borgni Floreto en Anuers lan M·D·LXI.” It is evidently taken from Holbein’s original design, which must have been in Antwerp at that date. Larger copies of both paintings are also in the British Museum; they are by Jan de Bisschop, a Dutch artist who died in 1686, and were probably made from the original large compositions when they were in Amsterdam. They are pen drawings washed with bistre, and are executed with great detail (#Pl. 7#).[60] The “Riches” shows several minor differences and some additions when compared with the Louvre drawing. Two new characters are introduced, Phileas and Leo Pisanus, their heads appearing before and behind the charioteer, as well as Heliogabalus and some unnamed persons; there is a parrot on the tree in the background (as in the Vorsterman drawing), while the tree itself is much larger and more finished. All goes to prove, in short, that the Louvre drawing and the copy of it in the British Museum represent Holbein’s study for the painting, while the Bisschop drawings were made from the paintings themselves, and the Vorsterman drawings either from the finished works or from Zuccaro’s copies of them, and represent the final designs.[61] The British Museum possesses a third copy of the “Triumph of Poverty,” made by Matthäus Merian the Younger in 1640, when the picture was still in London.[62]

It has been noted in an earlier chapter that Holbein, in his wall-paintings, was influenced by the example of Andrea Mantegna, whose “Triumph of Cæsar” had a European reputation. The Steelyard allegories were compositions of a similar nature, though in no sense copies of any earlier Italian work. The “Triumph of Riches” represents a crowded procession moving towards the spectator’s left. The 28magnificent chariot of Plutus, drawn by four white horses, is followed and surrounded by the most famous men of wealth of antiquity. The god of riches himself, old, bent, and bald, is seated on a high seat at the back of the car, with his feet on a sack of gold. In front of him sits Fortune on a globe, blindfolded,[63] her veil blown out like a sail, and stooping down to scatter gold among the crowd; and in front of her sits the Charioteer, named Ratio, holding the reins, which are labelled Notitia and Voluntas. The two near horses, Impostura and Contractus, are led by Bona Fides and Justitia, two finely designed figures of women, while two other women, Liberalitas and Æqualitas, are mounted on the off horses, Avaritia and Usura, which they urge along with short whips. On either side of the chariot walk Simonides, Sichaeus, Leo Byzantius, Bassa, Themistocles, Pythius, Crispinus, Ventidius, who holds up his toga to catch the coins Fortune is scattering, Gadareus and others, some of them bent down with the weight of gold they are carrying in sacks or large purses. Behind the car rides Crœsus, a majestic, crowned figure, his horse led by Narcissus, with Cleopatra, Midas, Tantalus, and other riders bringing up the rear. On the extreme right of the composition Nemesis hovers over them in the clouds. To each figure a label with the name is attached, all of which are not given on the Louvre drawing, but are found in the Vorsterman and Bisschop copies. On the extreme left, in the sky, is a large cartellino,[64] with a Latin inscription of two lines in Roman characters:—

This sentence was also written up over the central door of the Steelyard Guildhall, and has been ascribed, according to Walpole, to Sir Thomas More, but this appears to be a legend without any real foundation in fact.

Vol. II., Plate 7
THE TRIUMPH OF POVERTY
Seventeenth-century copy of the wall-decoration in the Guildhall of the London Merchants of the Steelyard
By Jan de Bisschop
British Museum

Both compositions were of the same height, but the “Triumph of Riches” was much the longer of the two, so that they must have been painted to fill particular and prescribed wall-spaces in the Hall. Probably the “Riches” occupied the place of honour on one of the long walls, opposite the windows, with the “Poverty” at one of the ends of the room. The latter, according to Dr. Ganz, came first, as the 29heads of a number of the figures in the foreground are turned backwards as though looking across the room at the other procession following them. In the “Triumph of Poverty,” in which the procession moves in the same direction, from right to left, the central figure is Poverty, an old woman, lean, and bare to the waist, seated in a rough waggon with upright poles bearing a canopy of straw. Over her head is a label with the Greek title “Πενια.” Behind her sits Infortunium, striking with a rod at the heads of the crowd of poverty-stricken, half-naked figures following the cart, among whom are an old man, Mendicitas, and an old woman, Miseria. In front of Poverty sits Industria, distributing instruments of labour, hammers, chisels, flails, squares, and other tools to the poor workmen walking below, and she is supported by Usus and Memoria. The cart is driven by Spes, who looks up towards heaven, and is drawn by two oxen, Negligentia and Pigritia, in the shafts, and two asses, Stupiditas and Ignavia, as leaders. These steeds are led by four finely designed female figures, Moderatio, with a whip, Diligentia, Solicitudo, and Labor, the last carrying a heavy spade. Behind Labor walks a young man with a basket of carpenter’s tools, and a flail over his shoulder. On a tree in the left background hangs a large wooden tablet with a long Latin inscription, also attributed to Sir Thomas More, beginning:

From the Louvre sketch in particular, but also from the numerous more or less faithful copies, sufficient evidence of the fine decorative character of the originals, their sense of rhythmic movement, their creative power and imagination, and the nobility of their design, can be obtained. The allegories they set forth were plain enough to read. They pointed out the instability of fortune and glory, and the virtue to be found in honest poverty, and warned the merchants who daily looked upon them, and whose avocations were the making of money, against undue arrogance in prosperity or needless despondency in adversity. “Both pieces,” says Van Mander, who describes them with some care, “were excellently arranged, freely drawn, and well delineated.” The colour-scheme appears to have matched the fine decorative qualities of the design. The compositions were not carried 30out in natural colours as in a picture. They were painted in greyish monochrome, with colour sparingly used. The background was blue, green was used in the trees, and the horses which drew the chariot of Plutus were white. The flesh tints of the numerous figures were rendered naturally, but the garments they wore were in monochrome, ornamented at the borders with gold, which was also used in other parts of the canvas with excellent effect, so that the paintings, when in position on the walls, must have added to the rich and brilliant appearance of the room, with its sideboards covered with silver plate and pewter ware.

We have one other record of a commission given to Holbein by the Steelyard. This was the design for the triumphal arch which they erected on Saturday, May 31st, 1533, when Anne Boleyn rode in procession from the Tower through the City to Westminster for her coronation. From a letter written by Chapuys, the Imperial Ambassador in London, to Charles V, dated May 18th in that year, it is evident that the Germans were not anxious to incur the cost of this decoration; but the Londoners, who had contributed 5000 ducats towards the festivities, of which 3000 were for a present to the new Queen, were determined to make all the inhabitants, irrespective of nationality, pay their due share.

“The Easterlings,” says Chapuys, “as being subjects of your Majesty, would like to be excused, but the great privileges they enjoy here prevent them from objecting.”[66]

Having determined to do it, however, they did it well, as contemporary records bear witness. Stow tells us that Anne, after being greeted at Fenchurch Street by the children of the City Schools, was still more splendidly welcomed at the corner of Gracechurch Street, “where was a costly and marvellous cunning pageant made by the merchants of the Stilyard: therein was the Mount Parnassus, with the Fountaine of Helicon, which was of white marble, and four streames without pipe did rise an ell high, and mette together in a little cup above the fountaine, which fountaine ranne abundantly with Reynish wine till night. On the mountaine sat Apollo, and at his feete sate Caliope; and on every side of the mountaine sate four Muses, playing on severell sweet instruments, and all their jestes, epigrams, and poesies were wrytten in golden letters, in the which every Muse, 31according to her property, praysed the Queene.” Camusat, in his narrative, says: “In all open places were scaffolds, on which mysteries were played; and fountains poured forth wine. Along the streets all the merchants were stationed.”

This triumphal arch was designed by Holbein. His original sketch for it, formerly in the Crozat collection, and more recently in that of the late Herr Rudolph Weigel, of Leipzig, is now in the Berlin Print Room (#Pl. 8#).[67] In its details it corresponds almost exactly with Stow’s description. In the centre Apollo is seated on a rock, beneath a slight bower or baldachin consisting of thin pillars supporting slender arches wreathed with leaves, across which hangs a scroll-shaped tablet for an inscription, the whole surmounted by a two-headed Imperial eagle. Apollo holds a small harp on his left knee, and with his right hand directs the music of the attendant Muses, who are grouped beneath him, five on the left hand and four on the right, on either side of a fountain of fine Renaissance design, in which the wine is falling from the smaller upper basin into the larger one beneath. The two front figures, Calliope and Polyhymnia, are seated, with lute and viol. Four of the others are singing, and the remainder playing various musical instruments, one with both a trumpet and a small drum. Apollo, crowned with a wreath, is clad in classical costume, but the ladies are wearing dresses of Holbein’s day. On either side of the group rise two tall candelabra, with blank shields for coats of arms, surmounted with royal crowns. In the background rocky mountains are indicated. The whole composition is supported by a central arch, of rich Renaissance design, shown in perspective, with a large blank tablet, to contain words of welcome, at its crown, and there are indications of smaller arches on either side. Thus it is evident that the decoration was not a painted one, but was a solid structure built across the street, under which the royal carriage would pass, and that Apollo and the Muses were represented by living persons, who played their instruments as the procession went by, while the white marble fountain splashed its Rhenish wine.

The sketch is a very hasty one, but would be quite sufficient to indicate to the Steelyard the artist’s intentions. Holbein himself, no doubt, superintended the erection of the archway. Slight as it is, it 32is masterly in draughtsmanship, displaying Holbein’s delicacy and certainty of touch in every stroke. The two seated figures, more particularly the one on the right, are rapidly drawn with the greatest grace and charm. According to Woltmann the Imperial eagle on the summit has only one head; the drawing is rubbed at the top, but there seem to be indications that the split or two-headed bird, which was then customary, was intended. Mr. W. F. Dickes denies that this drawing was intended for the Steelyard arch; he considers it to be a sketch for one of the Apollo musical festivals of Holbein’s Guild “zum Himmel” at Basel, and uses it as a proof that the painter had returned to his adopted city in 1533.[68] He bases this on an entry in the Banner Book of the Guild, dated November 23rd, 1533, which he reads as a payment to Holbein for banners painted for some festivity.[69] The symbol of the Basel Painters’ Guild was a pigeon with outstretched wings, within a wreath or bower, and Mr. Dickes sees in the eagle of the Berlin drawing, which is not within a bower, the pigeon of the Guild. He states, too, that as the Hanseatic League included merchants of other than German nationality they would have been unwilling to use an emblem so limiting as the Imperial bird. This statement is, however, incorrect. No doubt exists as to the use of the eagle on this particular occasion. It was, indeed, viewed with extreme distaste by the new Queen. Eustace Chapuys, writing to Charles V on July 11th, less than six weeks after the event, says: “I understand the lady (i.e., Anne) complains daily of the Easterlings, who on the day of her entry had set the Imperial eagle predominant over the King’s arms and hers.... This may serve as an indication of her perverse and malicious nature.”[70] And again, on the 30th of the same month, he returns to the same subject: “... the Lady who, as I am told, was not at all pleased with the Easterlings and other Germans for bringing me to see their fleet, which is greater than any that has been seen here for a long time; or that, at a solemn banquet which they made, the ships did march with their artillery. She is in a still worse humour because this was done near Greenwich park; and this has renewed the regret she felt for the eagle which the Easterlings carried in triumph the day of her entry here.”[71] These letters afford additional 33evidence that Holbein made this drawing for the occasion of Anne’s coronation, and that it has nothing to do with Basel or the Zunft zum Himmel.

Vol. II., Plate 8
APOLLO AND THE MUSES
Design for the Decoration of the Steelyard on the occasion of the Coronation of Anne Boleyn
Pen-and-wash drawing touched with green
Royal Print Room, Berlin

The Imperial two-headed eagle was also carved in stone over the principal entrance to the Steelyard. The old device had disappeared in the course of time, but in 1670 a new one was placed in position. The following item occurs in a series of accounts still extant in connection with the Steelyard buildings of that period: “December 31st, 1670. To Gabriel Cibbert, stone-cutter,—for the eagle put on over the gate from Thames Street, fixed on John Balls buildings, £5.” Caius Gabriel Cibber, a native of Holstein, and father of Colley Cibber, was a sculptor of some merit who practised in London. This sculptured shield-shaped stone, bearing an eagle displayed with a crowned collar and two heads, surrounded by an inscription, was also removed in course of time, and was recently found by Mr. Lawrence Weaver in the garden of Bickley Hall, Kent.[72]

Holbein receives the offer of a yearly pension from the Basel Town Council—“The Two Ambassadors”—The identity of the sitters—History and description of the picture—Other portraits of Dinteville and the members of his family—Félix Chrétien—Mr. Dickes’ theory that the picture represents the Princes Palatine Otto Henry and Philipp—The “Portrait of a Musician” at Bulstrode Park.

THROUGHOUT the earlier years of Holbein’s second sojourn in England, though he was busily occupied on work for the German merchants of the Steelyard, his time was by no means completely taken up with the commissions they gave him both individually and as a corporate body. During the same period he painted the portraits of more than one Englishman and several foreigners of distinction.

As already pointed out, he probably returned to England during the first months of 1532. It is to be presumed that he arrived thus early—or even in the late autumn of the previous year—or otherwise it is difficult to account for the letter of recall, dated 2nd September 1532, which was sent to him in England by the Burgomaster of Basel, Jakob Meyer—not his old patron, Meyer zum Hasen, but Jakob Meyer zum Hirschen—on behalf of the Council. Such a letter would hardly have been written if he had been absent from Basel for only a month or two. It is probable that the best part of a year would be allowed to elapse before a recall was sent to him. It runs as follows:

“Master Hans Holbein, the painter, now in England.

“We, Jacob Meiger, Burgomaster, and the Council of the City of Basel, send greeting to our dear citizen, Hans Holbein, and let you herewith know that it would please us if you would repair home as soon as possible. In that case, in order that you may the better stay at home and support your wife and children, we will furnish you yearly with thirty pieces of money, until we are able to take care of you better.

35We have wished to inform you of this, in order that you may conform to our desire. Dated Monday, 2nd September 1532.”[73]

The offer contained in this letter, which, though its terms were not lavish, was a proof that his fellow-citizens appreciated his art and were anxious to induce him to reside permanently in Basel, was not tempting enough to induce Holbein to leave England. Whatever his answer may have been—for it is to be presumed that he received the letter, though there is no actual evidence to show that he did so—the Council’s request proved ineffectual. He must have felt that it would be folly to abandon regular and remunerative employment in London for doubtful and ill-paid municipal commissions in Switzerland, more particularly as he had so recently formed a new and lucrative connection with the Steelyard, while memories of the bad times lately encountered in Basel were still vivid.

As already pointed out, the only three portraits by him bearing the date 1532 are of German merchants. In the following year, however, more than one fine work affords proof that the Steelyard was by no means his only source of income. His most important undertaking in 1533 was the large double portrait generally known as “The Two Ambassadors,” now in the National Gallery, for which it was purchased, in 1890, with two other pictures, from the fifth Earl of Radnor, for £55,000, of which £25,000 was contributed by the State, and £30,000 by Messrs. Nathaniel Rothschild & Sons, Lord Iveagh, and Mr. Charles Cotes. The addition of this great painting to the national collections, in which, until then, Holbein had been unrepresented, aroused much curiosity as to the personality of the two sitters. Many attempts were made to identify them, and numerous solutions of the riddle were suggested in letters to the Times and other papers and reviews. Magazine articles were written about it, and, lastly, two volumes of considerable size were published with this picture as their sole subject. Probably no other painting in the world has produced so great a mass of literature.

The two men represented are Frenchmen: Jean de Dinteville, Lord of Polisy, and Bailly of Troyes, and, at the time the picture was painted, resident French ambassador in London, and his close friend George de Selve, afterwards Bishop of Lavaur, who came over to 36England in the spring of 1533 on a short visit to the Bailly. The painting (#Pl. 9#),[74] which is on ten vertical panels of oak, is 6 ft. 10 in. high by 6 ft. 10¼ in. wide, and is thus described in the National Gallery catalogue:

Vol. II., Plate 9
THE TWO AMBASSADORS
Jean de Dinteville and George de Selve
1533
National Gallery, London

“The scene is a chamber paved with inlaid marbles, and hung with green damask, which in the upper left-hand corner partly reveals a silver crucifix attached to the wall behind. In the centre of the composition is a wooden stand, having an upper and a lower shelf. To the left of this, leaning his arm upon it, stands Jean de Dinteville, a young man with dark-brown eyes and beard, in a rich costume of the period of Henry VIII, wearing a heavy gold chain with the badge of the French order of Saint-Michel, and, on his right side, depending from his girdle, a dagger with wrought gold hilt and sheath: on the sheath the inscription—ÆT. SVÆ 29. in relief. In his black bonnet is a jewel formed of a silver skull set in gold. To the right, George de Selve, dark-eyed, with a close beard, also leans upon the stand, or, more immediately, on a clasped book, the edges of which are inscribed: ÆTATIS SVÆ 25. He wears a four-cornered black cap, and a loose, long-sleeved gown of mulberry and black brocade, lined with sable, and reaching to the ground. Both these persons regard the spectator. The upper shelf of the stand is covered with a Turkish rug, on which are several mathematical and astronomical instruments, and, close to the principal personage, a celestial globe. The lower shelf bears a case of flutes, a lute, an open music-book containing part of the score and words of the Lutheran hymn, ‘Komm, heiliger Geist,’ a smaller book, on arithmetic, kept partly open by a small square, a pair of compasses, and a terrestrial hand-globe, which is in a direct line below the other globe. Under the stand lies the lute-case. Conspicuous in the foreground is the anamorphosis, or perspectively distorted image, of a human skull, which, touching the floor on the left, stretches obliquely upwards towards the right. In the shadow cast on the floor by the chief personage is the inscription—‘JOANNES HOLBEIN PINGEBAT 1533’ in sloping Roman letters.” To this it should be added that Dinteville’s dress consists of a slashed doublet of rose-coloured satin, and a black surcoat. The latter is lined with ermine, with which the shoulder-puffs, further adorned with gold tags, are 37piped. A large gold and green silk tassel, of very fine execution, hangs, with the dagger, from his girdle, and he also wears a sword, only the hilt and sheathed point of which are seen.

All that was known about the picture at the time of its purchase for the National Gallery was that at the end of the eighteenth century it was in the possession of Jean Batiste Pierre Le Brun, the Parisian picture-dealer, and husband of the well-known portrait-painter, Madame Vigée Le Brun. Le Brun issued a very indifferent engraving of it by J. A. Pierron in Part XII (dated 1790) of his “Galerie des Peintres Flamands, Hollandais et Allemands.” In the index it was described as representing “MM. de Selve et d’Avaux; l’un, Ambassadeur à Venise, l’autre, dans les pays du Nord, avec les attributs des Arts qu’ils cultivaient; on voit à terre une Tête de Mort en perspective, à prendre de l’angle gauche, qui de face ressemble à un poisson.” When the publication was issued in volume form in 1792, with text, Le Brun slightly amplified this note, and added “J’ai depuis vendu ce tableau pour l’Angleterre, où il est maintenant; les figures sont de grandeur naturelle.” He gives no information as to the source from which he obtained the picture. It is stated in the National Gallery catalogue that it is probable that it came into the hands of the dealer Vandergucht, and that from him it was purchased by the second Earl of Radnor, about 1790 or 1795; but from the account books of Longford Castle it would appear that it was sold to the Earl by the dealer Buchanan, who received one thousand guineas for it, the payments being made in 1808 and 1809.

During the years the picture remained in Longford Castle many guesses were made as to the identity of the personages. Le Brun’s title, which, after all, contained half the truth, was not accepted by the leading critics, largely owing, no doubt, to the fact that the title of Avaux did not exist until more than a hundred years after the picture was painted, so that, the one name being impossible, the other was included in the same category. In the end, a suggestion that the man on the left of the picture was Sir Thomas Wyat was regarded as a very possible solution. Mr. Wornum, in his book published in 1867, gave this attribution a qualified acceptance—“the subject is doubtful, but it is supposed to represent Sir Thomas Wyatt, the poet and diplomatist, and some learned friend”[75]—and Dr. Woltmann 38followed suit, but went a step further, suggesting John Leland, the antiquary, as the second figure.[76] Both identifications, however, were shown to be inaccurate by Mr. J. Gough Nichols in a paper contributed to Archæologia in 1873;[77] but he could offer no name in substitution, and so the matter stood until the purchase of the picture for the nation.

The public exhibition of this splendid example of Holbein’s art produced a long and interesting correspondence in the Times newspaper. Sir J. C. Robinson upheld Dr. Woltmann’s belief that the two men were Wyat and Leland, but Sir Sidney Colvin,[78] by means of convincing proofs, showed that this attribution was untenable, as also that of Le Brun. He gave, at the same time, four reasons for supposing that the personage on the left was really a Frenchman and an ambassador—(1) the traditional title; (2) its having been sold into this country from France; (3) the wearing of the French order of Saint-Michel; and (4) the close resemblance in dress and fashion of the personage in question and the portrait of another French Ambassador, the “Morette” at Dresden. He proposed, as a probable solution, the name of Jean de Dinteville—a suggestion which afterwards proved to be the correct one. When, in August 1891, the picture was cleaned, and the name of Polisy, Dinteville’s birthplace, an obscure village in Burgundy, was discovered on the terrestrial globe, the only other French towns upon it being Paris, Lyon and Bayonne, the identity of the left-hand figure was placed almost beyond doubt. Sir Sidney also suggested that the second person might be Nicolas Bourbon, the French poet.

Other attempted identifications included such divers personages as Lord Rochford, brother of Anne Boleyn; Count Balthazar Castiglione, who came to England to receive the Order of the Garter for the Duke of Urbino; and Guillaume and Jean du Bellay. The last-named solution was published in a pamphlet in 1890 by Mr. Elias Dexter, under the title of Holbein’s Ambassadors Identified. The writer sought to prove that the National Gallery picture and the one engraved for Le Brun were not the same, and that there must be two versions of the subject in existence. This contention he based on a number of slight differences between the accessories in the picture and in Pierron’s 39print, but such differences may be easily explained by the inferiority of the engraver’s work and the unusual complexity of the many details. To prove the identity of the two sitters with the brothers Du Bellay, who in 1533 were about 42 and 41 years of age respectively, he was obliged to declare the inscriptions on the dagger and the book to be forgeries. It is true that Jean du Bellay was in England in that year for a short time, and this is Mr. Dexter’s sole evidence, though he professes to see a strong likeness between the two ambassadors and the portraits of the brothers Du Bellay engraved on the same plate in the ninth volume of the Versailles Gallery.

A much more elaborate theory was advanced by Mr. W. F. Dickes in three articles in the Magazine of Art, and in several letters to the Times in answer to critics unfriendly to his attempted solution of the riddle. His contention is that the picture was painted as a memorial of the Treaty of Nuremberg between the Catholics and Protestants in 1532, and that the two persons represented are the brothers Otto Henry and Philipp of Neuburg, Counts Palatine of the Rhine. This theory he still further elaborated in a book published in 1903 under the title of Holbein’s Ambassadors Unriddled. His arguments, however, are singularly unconvincing, and have failed to obtain the support of any serious student of Holbein. Before dealing with them, however, it will be better to give a brief account of the discoveries of Miss Mary F. S. Hervey, by means of which the identity of Holbein’s two sitters was finally set at rest. Her account of her discovery of a document which provided conclusive evidence that the two Ambassadors were Jean de Dinteville and George de Selve was communicated to the Times,[79] and this, together with further corroborative evidence, was embodied in a book, Holbein’s Ambassadors: the Picture and the Men, published in 1900.

In 1895 Miss Hervey happened to come across a copy of the Revue de Champagne et de Brie for 1888, which gave a short notice of a picture formerly preserved at Polisy, containing the portraits of Jean de Dinteville and George de Selve. This paragraph was based on a catalogue published in March 1888 by M. Saffroy, an antiquarian bookseller of Pré-Saint-Gervais, in which a seventeenth-century parchment, describing the picture, was offered for sale. Miss Hervey hastened to communicate with M. Saffroy, and by one of those happy chances 40which seldom occur, the document was still in his possession, and proved to contain exactly the information which had so long been sought in vain. The following is a translation of its complete text as given by Miss Hervey:—

“[Remarks on the subject of an excellent picture of the Sieurs d’Inteville Polizy, and George de Selve Bishop of Lavour, showing the offices they held, and the time of their decease.]

“In this picture is represented, life-size, Messire Jean de DIntevile chevalier Sieur de Polizy, near Bar-sur-Seyne, Bailly of Troyes, who was Ambassador in England for King Francis I in the years 1532 [O.S.] and 1533 and since Gouverneur of Monsieur Charles de France, second son (sic) of the said King; the said Charles died at Forest Monstier in the year 1545, and the said Sr. de DIntvile in the year 1555. Interred in the Church of the said Polizy. There is also represented in the said picture Messire George de Selve, Bishop of Lavaur, a personage of great learning and virtue, who was Ambassador with the Emperor Charles V; the said Bishop was the son of Messire Jean de Selve, Premier President of the Parliament of Paris; the said Bishop died in 1541, having in the above-mentioned year 1532, or 1533, gone to England by permission of the King, to visit the said Sieur de DIntevile, his intimate friend, and also of all his family; and they two having met in England an excellent Dutch painter, employed him to make this picture, which has been carefully preserved at the same place, Polizy, up to the year 1653.”

The manuscript consists of an oblong piece of parchment which may have been cut from an inventory, but it is more probable that it was written as a descriptive label to be attached to the picture-frame, after the picture’s removal from Polisy in 1653. The latter supposition would account for the fact that no mention is made of the place where the picture then was, which would, of course, be unnecessary. The authenticity of this document has been pronounced by the British Museum authorities to be indisputable. The body of it was written just after the middle of the seventeenth century, while the heading was added at a slightly later date, at a time, no doubt, when the label had become separated from the picture.

In her book Miss Hervey gives a long and interesting account of the lives of the two men. It is sufficient to state here that Jean de Dinteville was born in September 1504, and was therefore in his twenty-ninth 41year when he came to England as resident French ambassador in February 1533; and that the name “Polisy” is given a prominent place on the terrestrial globe placed near him in the picture. The second sitter, George de Selve, was appointed to the see of Lavaur in 1526, when he was in his eighteenth year, but was only consecrated in 1534, when he was in his twenty-sixth year, which exactly agrees with the inscription on the picture, which states that he was then in his twenty-fifth year.[80] Further evidence exists in the shape of a grant from the Pope to De Selve, dated May 1526, permitting him to hold several benefices “although only seventeen years old.” The fact that he was not consecrated until the year after the picture was painted, although appointed to the see of Lavaur in 1526, explains why Holbein has not represented him in episcopal robes.

This document is confirmed by a further discovery by Miss Hervey of a Mémoire preserved in the Bibliothèque de l’Institut at Paris, which gives a summary of three letters concerning the picture. The letters themselves, which so far, with possibly one exception, have not yet been discovered, were addressed by Nicolas Camusat, the antiquary, canon of Troyes, and an intimate friend of the Dinteville family for many years, to his friends the Godefroy brothers, to whom and to others he constantly supplied antiquarian and genealogical information. His letters relating to Polisy extended from 1607 to 1655.

The following is a translation of the memorandum:

“Memoir in explanation of three letters sent by Monsr. Camusat, Canon of St. Pierre at Troyes, [touching a picture made in England of George de Selve, Bp. of Lavaur, who had gone thither to visit the Bailly of Troies, Sr. de Polizi, Jean d’Inteville, at that time the King’s ambassador].

“There are two relating to the Bishop of Lavaur, George de Selve, son of Mr. le Premier President de Selve, which Bishop had been invited by Mr. de Polizy, bailly of Troyes, ambassador in England in the years 1532 [O.S.] and 1533, to visit him in England, which he did, having first taken leave of the King. And being in England, they had made the excellent picture by a Dutch painter, Holben, which picture was preserved in the House of Polizy, distant but one league from 42Bar-sur-Seine, a hundred and forty [sic] years and more, as belonging to the Seigneur of the place, Sr. de Sessac, until the year 1653, when he had it removed to Paris, to his house near the parish of St. Sulpice; the said picture representing the said Sr. de Polizy, Jean de d’Inteville, and the said Sr. Bishop of Lavaur, who was afterwards ambassador with Charles V; and the said Bishop died in 1541. The said picture is considered the finest piece of painting in France in the opinion of the best painters. M. le Mareschal du Plessis-Praslain not long since bought the estate of Polisy for three hundred thousand livres from the said Sr. de Sessac.

“Mr. de Vic, garde des sceaux, formerly said that it was the most beautiful piece of painting in France.

“Mr. George de Selve, and his brothers, worthily served France in various embassies and legations.”

In this document the name of the painter, “Holben,” is given; it is inserted between the lines, but is in the same hand and of the same date as the writing which surrounds it. The portion at the head of the memorandum between brackets is by another hand. It is interesting to note that not only is the name of the painter given but that in the seventeenth century Holbein’s work was considered, both by painters and amateurs, to be the finest picture then in France. There is in the Godefroy collection a second paper, a copy, dated 1654, of a memorandum drawn up by Camusat, in which there is further reference to the picture. It need not be quoted here, but it speaks of the figures as life-size, and concludes by saying that “the piece is esteemed the richest and best wrought that is to be found in France.”[81]

Thus the identity of Holbein’s sitters is irrefutably established, and the picture’s history can now be traced almost without a break. Dinteville, who had already been in England on a short mission in 1531, reached London at the beginning of February 1533, and was lodged in the royal palace of Bridewell, by the Thames. The exact date of George de Selve’s visit to him is not known, but it was between February and Easter in that year; he was back in France before the end of May. There appears to have been some secrecy in connection with the latter’s journey to England, for though he had the permission of Francis I, for some reason Montmorency, the Grand Master, was, if possible, 43to be kept in ignorance of it. In a letter, dated 23rd May, to his brother, the Bishop of Auxerre, Dinteville says: “Monsr. de Lavor m’a fait cest honneur que de me venir veoir, qui ne m’a esté petit plaisir. Il n’est point de besoing que Mr. le grant maistre en entende rien.”[82]

It is impossible to say in what way Dinteville became acquainted with Holbein, or to whose offices the introduction between ambassador and painter was due. Dinteville counted among his friends more than one of Holbein’s sitters, while he was, no doubt, well acquainted with Niklaus Kratzer through his keen interest in mechanics and the various astronomical and mathematical sciences. He had thus more than one opportunity of seeing examples of Holbein’s skill in portraiture, and it is to be gathered that he conceived a great admiration for it, for otherwise he would not have ordered so large and important a portrait group of himself and his friend. With the exception of the “Duchess of Milan,” the More family group, and the now lost “Fitzwilliam, Earl of Southampton,” of which there is a good copy in the Fitzwilliam Museum, Cambridge, the “Ambassadors” is the only portrait-panel painted by Holbein in England of which there is any record in which the figures are shown both life-size and at full-length. As there is no reference in the State papers of England or France to the semi-secret business which brought George de Selve over to London, the suggestion may be hazarded that he came for the express purpose of having his portrait painted, Dinteville urging him to do so on account of the excellent painter he had discovered. The picture, crowded as it is with intricate accessories, must have taken a considerable time to complete. It was, no doubt, painted in the Ambassador’s own room in Bridewell Palace, and the sitter and the painter must have spent long hours in planning out and arranging the many mathematical and scientific instruments which form so important a feature of the panel, some of which may have been lent by or purchased from Kratzer. The visit of the future Bishop of Lavaur was so short that he can hardly have seen more than the beginning of the work and the finishing of his own head and hands. No doubt Holbein followed his usual practice and made preliminary studies of the two heads, but these drawings have not been traced, although there is a very fine unnamed 44study in the Windsor collection (Pl. 36 (1))[83] which is supposed to represent Jean de Dinteville, the features showing sufficient resemblance to those of the Bailly of Troyes to induce the suggestion that it represents him at a later date. Both Sir Sidney Colvin and Miss Hervey hold this opinion, as did the late Sir Frederick Burton; but it must be confessed that the resemblance is not very striking.[84] The Windsor drawing is of a man considerably older than the Dinteville of the picture; but the Bailly, after his residence in this country throughout the greater part of 1533, paid only three short visits to London between the years 1535 and 1537. Even if the drawing had been made by Holbein in the last-named year he would only have been in his thirty-third year. A miniature or portrait, painted by Holbein from this drawing, was in the Arundel Collection, and was engraved by Hollar. It is highly improbable, too, that after he had been so elaborately painted Dinteville would have sat again for his portrait a few years later, so that, all things considered, this attribution can only be accepted with caution. There is, however, an undoubted portrait of Dinteville at Chantilly, forming part of the collection of drawings of the ladies and gentlemen of the Court of Francis I, by Jean Clouet and his school, which was formerly at Castle Howard. This portrait was identified by Miss Hervey in 1904.[85] The likeness is very marked, though the drawing lacks the strength and fine draughtsmanship to be found in similar portrait-studies by Holbein, and it appears to have been done within a few years of the picture itself.

The picture was taken back to France by Dinteville, and remained at Polisy until the middle of the seventeenth century. By the marriage, in 1562, of Dinteville’s niece, Claude, with François de Cazillac, Baron de Cessac, the family estates, and with them the picture, passed into the possession of the latter house, a distinguished family in the south of France. In 1654 a later François de Cazillac sold Polisy, and permanently removed to the Château of Milhars in Languedoc, his chief residence. From the second document quoted above we learn that De Cessac removed the picture to his town house in Paris 45in 1653. This house was in the Rue du Four, St. Germain des Prez, behind the house known as Chapeaufort, in the parish of St. Sulpice.[86] From 1653 onwards there is no actual evidence as to the whereabouts of the picture until it turned up one hundred and twenty years later in the Beaujon sale in Paris in 1787. During his researches into its past history Mr. W. F. Dickes discovered this sale-catalogue in the Cabinet des Estampes in Paris.[87] Nicolas Beaujon, a rich financier and collector of pictures and objects of art, died without heirs in 1786, leaving all his money to charities. His pictures were sold in the following spring, and among them were two attributed to Holbein. These two works were not, apparently, part of Beaujon’s collection, but were put into the sale by some other person.[88] The first, which, according to the sale-catalogue, represented the Court of Francis II, has recently come to light again;[89] the second was the “Ambassadors” picture. The two were sold together in one lot for the insignificant sum of 602 francs, and the purchaser was evidently Le Brun. The description of the picture in the sale-catalogue tallies almost exactly with Le 46Brun’s description which accompanied Pierron’s engraving. From the sale-catalogue he obtained the supposed names of the sitters, “MM. de Selve et d’Avaux,” and he evidently endorsed, without troubling to make a careful examination of his own, the further statement of the catalogue that there was no date upon it. Probably the picture was in need of cleaning, so that both signature and date were obscured. Mr. Wornum discovered them in 1865, and they had been noted by others before that date. When the picture was acquired for the National Gallery, however, the signature had again become obscured by dirt, after the passage of some thirty years, and was only deciphered after re-cleaning.

Although no actual proofs can be produced as to the whereabouts of the picture between 1653 and 1787, Miss Hervey, in the course of her researches into the history of the De Cessac family, discovered sufficient evidence to point to the probability that M. de Cessac took it with him to Milhars when he finally settled there a few years later, and that it remained there until shortly before the Beaujon sale. The Milhars estate descended from heir to heir of the house of Dinteville until 1765, when it was sold by the Marquis de Basville, who then represented the family. He was the intimate friend of Beaujon, who made him his executor, in which capacity he drew up the inventory of all the banker’s pictures and art objects. In this inventory, however, there is no trace of Holbein’s “Ambassadors” to be found, and the inference is that as it was included in the Beaujon sale three months later it was put into that sale by the executor himself. It seems certain, therefore, that from the time when the picture was taken from England by Dinteville in 1533 until it was sent back again by Le Brun more than two hundred and fifty years later it never once left France, but remained as a treasured possession in the family for whose ancestor it was painted.[90]

In spite of the conclusive proof brought forward by Miss Hervey, Mr. W. F. Dickes, in his book devoted to the unriddling of the “Ambassadors,” refused to abandon his theory of the Nuremberg Treaty, and still pinned his faith to his Princes Palatine Otto Henry and Philipp. It is essential to his theory that Holbein should be proved to have been absent from England in 1533, and he, therefore, gives it as his opinion that the Steelyard portraits of that year, and the Cheseman portrait,[91] were most probably painted abroad. He cites, as actual proof that 47Holbein was in Basel in 1533, in addition to the extract from the “Banner Book” referred to in the preceding chapter,[92] the “Wheel of Fortune” picture in distemper at Chatsworth, which is dated 1533, with the arms of Basel on the post supporting the wheel. “No one can doubt,” he says, “that it was painted by Holbein at Basel in 1533;”[93] but, as a matter of fact, it is not by Holbein at all, being far too poor a work to be from his hand, but by Hans Schaeufelin, and the initials “H. H.” on it are of later date. The monogram and the well-known mark, in the form of a shovel, of the latter painter, which have been tampered with, are still clearly discernible beneath the letters.[94]

In his book Mr. Dickes abandons, or at least does not reprint, some of the more fantastic theories he advanced in his magazine articles; but in all that he has published on the subject his method of procedure is the simple one of denying the authenticity of all evidence which is destructive of his theory. Thus, he does not hesitate to declare the first document discovered by Miss Hervey to be an eighteenth-century forgery, and the two confirmatory papers amongst the Godefroy correspondence he places in the same category. With regard to the date and Holbein’s signature, he accepts as a fact the “staggering statement” of the Beaujon sale-catalogue that in 1787 the picture was unsigned and undated; and he infers that the inscription was added by Le Brun, and that the three documents discovered by Miss Hervey were all forgeries due to the same unscrupulous dealer. Why such an elaborate falsification should be thought necessary, and what purpose it served, unless merely to display the genealogical learning of the forger, Mr. Dickes fails to explain. When Le Brun issued his engraving in 1792, with a descriptive note lifted bodily from the Beaujon catalogue, and retaining the same title, “MM. de Selve et d’Avaux,” he had already sold the picture into England, so that to elaborate a series of forgeries in connection with it, and then scatter them about France and get them inserted among the papers of learned antiquaries, after the picture had left the country, would seem to be a very futile proceeding; and if he had added the date 1533 and a false signature to it before selling it he would surely have refrained from stating in his printed description of 48it that it was painted in “la manière dont il a marqué ses ouvrages HB. BH. 1515.” The whole theory, in fact, is absurd, as is Mr. Dickes’ further declaration that the name “Policy” on the globe is also a forgery due to Le Brun. The inscription on the book giving the age of George de Selve, “ætatis suæ 25,” is also a forgery according to the same authority, or rather, he holds that the last figure was originally an 8, but that it became damaged, and that when repaired it was altered to a 5 through the ignorance of the restorer. The alteration of the age from 25 to 28, it should be noted, is vital to Mr. Dickes’ argument, for otherwise the second figure cannot represent Count Philipp. Even this change, however, is not sufficient to put matters right, and so he assumes arbitrarily that although the picture was painted in 1533 (in spite of its forged date!) the ages of the sitters inscribed on the dagger and the book were purposely calculated from the previous year, in order to indicate that the painting was a memorial of the Nuremberg Treaty of 1532. Mr. Dickes professes to find further proofs of the ages of the sitters from the numerous accessories on the table. The cylindrical sundial is so arranged that it informs us that the sitter against whom it is placed was born on April 10th, about 10.30 P. M., in the latitude of Neuburg, which exactly agrees with the birth of Otto Henry, and this information is confirmed by the decagonal sundial further along the table. With respect to the second figure, the instruments are still more explicit, for the date, November 12th, is repeated no less than four times on Apian’s Torquetum, the astrolabe, and the quadrant, with the additional information that the hour of birth was between five and six, which exactly agrees with the day of the month and the hour of the birth of Philipp.[95]

Space does not permit even a brief reference to further erroneous inferences which Mr. Dickes draws from other parts of the picture, all of which were fully and finally dealt with by Sir Sidney Colvin in a review 49of the book.[96] Mr. Dickes by no means strengthens his case by reproducing a number of portraits, selected from various European galleries, in which he sees likenesses to his two heroes, though they bear but the faintest resemblance either to genuine portraits of the Counts Palatine or to the sitters in the “Ambassadors” picture.[97]

The book, in spite of the false theory on which it is based, displays much careful if misplaced research, and as, for this reason, it is apt to mislead those who have made no serious study of Holbein’s work, its arguments have been briefly dealt with here. Mr. Dickes, however, is not alone in refusing to accept Jean de Dinteville and George de Selve as the two ambassadors. Mrs. G. Fortescue, in her book on the painter,[98] holds that both Miss Hervey and Mr. Dickes are wrong; but she brings forward no names to take the place of those she condemns, and merely suggests, somewhat mysteriously, that later on she will produce facts which will provide the correct solution.

Turning again to the picture itself, it is evident that the accessories, with which the table is crowded, both from their unusual number and character, were not collected at haphazard merely to afford an opportunity for displaying Holbein’s skill in depicting minutiæ, but that they represent the tastes and learned pursuits of the two sitters, and were selected and arranged by Dinteville himself. The prevailing love of allegory and symbolism, of the emblem or “devise,” which was a marked characteristic of that age, is apparent in many of the picture’s details, in some of them to be read plainly, in others so obscurely that it is now impossible to explain them satisfactorily. Miss Hervey has described them with care, and has elucidated much of their meaning and purpose. The appearance of the Death’s-head twice over in the picture—in the hat-medal worn by Dinteville and in the distorted skull in the foreground—seems to indicate that the ambassador had adopted it as his personal badge or devise. The picture, indeed, in its general arrangement bears considerable likeness to the woodcut in the “Dance of Death” series known as “The Arms of Death” (“Die Wappen des Todes”), as was first pointed out by Mr. Wornum.[99] This suggests the 50possibility that Dinteville had been shown, perhaps by Holbein himself, a proof set of the “Dance of Death” woodcuts, and that he had been greatly impressed by them. He suffered much from ill-health while in England, which may have had something to do with his choice of a device of so gloomy a nature.

Certain of the instruments depicted are apparently set to indicate various dates, such as the birthdays of the sitters or important events in their lives, as pointed out by Mr. Dickes. The same instruments, together with the other objects, also represent certain of the Seven Liberal Arts—Music, Arithmetic, Geometry and Astronomy. The terrestrial globe is copied from Johann Schöner’s globe of 1523, to which about twenty names of towns have been added by Holbein, chiefly in France and Spain, selected by Dinteville as an epitome of the foreign relations of France in shaping which he had taken some share, the most important of these additions, as elucidating the identity of the chief sitter, being, of course, Polisy. The Lutheran hymn-book and the crucifix may be taken as symbolical of France’s religious diplomacy and the opinions of the two friends. The hope of religious union between the Roman Catholic and the Reformed Churches played a large part in the life of the Bishop of Lavaur. “To find means to promote that end was the object of his most earnest thought; to see it accomplished, the dearest wish of his heart.”[100] Dinteville, too, belonged to the liberal Catholic party in France, and shared the Bishop’s views. Mr. Barclay Squire first pointed out that the hymn-book in the picture was painted from a copy of Johann Walther’s Geystliche Gesangbüchlein, published at Wittemberg in 1524. The German arithmetic book was copied from a manual, The Merchant’s Arithmetic Book, by Peter Apian, published at Ingoldstadt in 1527. The badge of the order of St. Michael is worn by Dinteville without the collar of scallop-shells, and merely suspended from his neck by a gold chain. This was in accordance with the rules of the Order, which permitted it to be so worn when under arms, or when travelling, hunting, or when at home in private, or in other places where there was no company. Other details of the picture are equally interesting, more particularly the elaborate mosaic pavement, which Miss Hervey discovered to be an accurate copy of the well-known paved floor in the Sanctuary of Westminster Abbey, for the construction of which marbles and workmen were brought from Italy 51by Abbot Richard Ware in the reign of Henry III. This interesting discovery affords additional proof that the “Ambassadors” was painted in England.

The picture, which in point of size and in the elaboration of its many details is the most important work by Holbein remaining in England, is a brilliant example of the painter’s technical abilities, though as a composition it is less successful than certain other less ambitious portraits from his brush. The accessories, on account of their number, variety, and brilliance of execution, and the central position given to them—so that the two figures have something of the appearance of the supporters to a coat of arms, as in some of Holbein’s designs for glass—to some extent distract the attention from the ambassadors themselves. Dinteville appears to have selected them with great care, and evidently attached great importance to them and the meanings they were intended to convey; while the painter carried out his wishes so admirably that they remain to-day almost as important a part of the picture as they did in the opinion of the man for whom the work was painted. The distorted skull, in particular, which at once catches the eye, however entertaining or clever a rebus or emblematic puzzle the Bailly may have thought it, holds far too prominent a position in the composition for the painting to be regarded as a picture in the highest sense of the word. It is, nevertheless, a work possessing very great qualities, and, in many respects, must be placed in the forefront of Holbein’s achievement. The faces of the two men are finely and delicately modelled, though their character is not quite so subtly expressed as in such a portrait as that of the “Duchess of Milan.” The dark, penetrating eyes and well-chiselled mouth of Dinteville give vitality to his intellectual face, in which can be traced some indications of the delicate constitution which was so ill suited to the climate of England. De Selve is grave in contrast, with dark eyebrows and a more pallid complexion, and his countenance has less expression and vitality than is to be found in that of his companion. It has been suggested that this contrast between the two figures is so great that it indicates the fact proved by Dinteville’s letter, that the future Bishop’s stay in this country was of limited duration, and that his portrait was probably not completed from life.

Vol. II., Plate 10
PORTRAIT OF A MUSICIAN
Sir John Ramsden, Bulstrode Park

In concluding this account of Dinteville’s connection with Holbein reference must be made to a portrait in the possession of Sir John 52Ramsden, Bt., of Bulstrode Park, Buckingham, recently published and described for the first time by Dr. Ganz in the Burlington Magazine,[101] which represents a man with a book of music and a lute (Pl. 10). This “Portrait of a Musician” he regards as an undoubted likeness of the Bailly of Troyes from Holbein’s brush. He describes it as follows: “The man is sitting behind a table, and holds in his right hand a roll of paper, in the left a guitar. Two books in red bindings with green ribbons are placed, one open, one closed, on the red tablecloth, and this group of colours forms the contrast to the green curtain of the background. The cap and the black coat with large facings and white shirt-ruffles hanging down are decorated with golden buttags of a longish form, after the French fashion of the time. The blue eyes, looking with a sharp and cold glance, give the impression of a man of great reflection and prudence; and the beautiful, carefully tended hands belong to a gentleman of the Court.... Round the neck he wears a small golden chain and a black silk ribbon, to which is attached an object of a very singular form, executed in gold and embellished with precious stones. This cannot be a simple jewel, intended merely to hang on the gold chain, but it seems to be a kind of whistle used in place of a tuning-fork.”[102] This portrait is said to represent Lord Vaux of Harrowden, from its supposed resemblance to the two drawings by Holbein of that personage at Windsor, but Dr. Ganz holds that it bears a much closer resemblance to Dinteville as he is shown in the “Ambassadors,” and still more so to the drawing found by Miss Hervey at Chantilly. He considers that the longer beard indicates that it was painted two years later than the National Gallery picture. “The technical execution,” he says, “confirms a later date of origin; the blending of the colours and the brilliancy are in the well-preserved parts like the finest enamel. The right hand, which has a smooth appearance, is retouched; but the extraordinary quality of Holbein’s art in modelling the flesh without any contrast is to be found in the face and in the execution of the left hand. His attention was not limited to creating a portrait with the exactness of a looking-glass; he tried to give the man in his intimacy by obtaining a spacious effect. He placed the figure between two objects and painted 53the shadows in their real values.” While admitting that the likeness between this Musician and Dinteville is a strong one, the present writer is of opinion that the picture at Bulstrode Park does not represent the French ambassador. As already pointed out,[103] Dinteville’s subsequent visits to England were all short ones, of only a few weeks’ duration, during which time there would be little opportunity for sitting for his portrait, nor is it very probable that he would want a second likeness of himself so shortly after the big work was finished. Little is known of the history of Sir John Ramsden’s picture, but it is probably the ritratto d’un Musico of the Arundel inventory. It is said to have been purchased in 1860 from a sale in Scotland. Either this picture, or a replica of it, was in the Ralph Bernal sale, 1855, when it was sold to Mr. Morant for one hundred guineas. It was described in the sale catalogue as: “Portrait of Nicholas, Lord Vaux, the poet and musician, in a black dress and cap, seated at a table, an open book before him, he holds a viol de gambe in his left hand, green drapery behind, 17½ × 17, a most beautiful portrait of the highest interest.”

Portraits of Robert Cheseman—Thomas Cromwell—Lord Abergavenny—Charles de Solier, Sieur de Morette—The Earl of Arundel’s collection of pictures—Roundels of a man and his wife at Vienna—Portraits of members of the Poyntz family—Nicolas Bourbon—His verses in praise of Holbein—Design for the title-page of Coverdale’s Bible—Other woodcut designs produced in England—Hall’s Chronicle—Portraits of Sir Thomas Wyat—Margaret Wyat, Lady Lee—Sir Richard Southwell—Sir Thomas le Strange—Lady Vaux—Sir Nicholas Carew.

THERE is only one portrait by Holbein bearing the date 1533 which can be said with any certainty to represent an Englishman. This is the very beautiful one of Robert Cheseman, now in the Hague Gallery, which has been known for so long under the erroneous title of “Henry VIII’s Falconer” (Pl. 11).[104] It represents a man holding a much higher social position than that of a mere keeper of hawks. Henry’s falconers were paid at a rate which did not permit them to employ the services of the leading artist of the day should they wish—which is not at all probable—to have their portraits painted. Their wages, in fact, ranged between fifty and twenty shillings a month. Cheseman, in common with other gentlemen of that period, chose to be painted with his favourite hawk upon his wrist, for the same reason that the country squires of the eighteenth century were so often depicted with their favourite dogs. Another example of this habit is to be seen in the equally fine portrait by Holbein of an unknown man, also in the Hague Gallery, dated 1542, who is evidently a gentleman, and not a professional falconer.[105]

Vol. II., Plate 11
ROBERT CHESEMAN
1533
Royal Picture Gallery, Mauritshuis, The Hague

Robert Cheseman, of Dormanswell, near Norwood, in Middlesex, and Northcote, in Essex, was a man of wealth, and one of the leading commoners of the first-named county. He was born in 1485, son and heir of Edward Cheseman, Cofferer and Keeper of the Wardrobe to 55Henry VII, and succeeded to the family estates in 1517. His father is mentioned in a pardon granted on March 2nd, 1486,[106] “to Edward Cheseman of London, gentleman, of all fines, forfeitures, etc., due to the King or to Richard III, late, in deed and not of right, King of England,” which was granted him as one of the executors of the will of Thomas Windesore, Constable of Windsor Castle. There was also a William Cheseman, probably an uncle of Robert, who in 1485 and 1486 received grants of the offices of bailiff of the rapes of Lewes and of Braneburgh, and of Clerk of the Market of the town of Lewes, “in consideracion of the true and feithfulle service that our welbeloved servaunt and true liegeman William Cheseman hathe doone unto us, as well in the parties of beyonde the see, as at oure late victorious felde within this oure royaume.”[107]

On August 30th, 1523, Robert Cheseman was appointed Commissioner for Essex to collect the subsidy,[108] and in December 1528 was placed upon the commission of the peace for Middlesex. In 1530 he represented the same county on a commission “to make inquisition in different counties concerning the possessions held by Thomas Cardinal Archbishop of York (Wolsey) on 2 Dec. 15 Hen. VIII, when the Cardinal committed certain offences against the Crown for which he was attainted.”[109] During his life he served on a number of commissions for collecting tithes, subsidies, and the like, including one in 1533, the year in which he sat to Holbein. In 1536 his name appears among a list of people from whom money is due to the King by obligations,[110] while in the same year he supplied thirty men for the army against the Northern rebels, which proves him to have been a man of considerable substance.[111] He served on the Grand Jury at the trials of Sir Geoffrey Pole, Sir Edward Neville, and others, in 1538,[112] and of Thomas Culpeper and Francis Dereham for treason in connection with the trial of Queen Catherine Howard in 1541.[113] He was among the “squires” selected to welcome Anne of Cleves when she first landed in England, and was, in fact, one of some half-dozen men of position who represented Middlesex on all such public occasions. In 1543 he supplied ten footmen for the army going into Flanders “for the 56defence of the Emperor’s Low Countries,[114] and in the following year he himself appears to have gone with the English army into France, and it is noted against his name in the muster book that he had “10 footmen already beyond the seas.” He married Alice, daughter of Henry Dacres, of Mayfield, Staffordshire, a merchant-tailor and alderman of Fleet Street, London. She died on July 31st, 1547, and was buried at Norwood. His daughter and heir, Anne Cheseman, married Francis Chamberlayne.

The portrait of Cheseman is a half-length, facing the spectator, the head and eyes turned to the left. He wears a purplish red silk doublet, and a black cloak trimmed with fur, and the customary black cap. On his left hand, which is gloved, he carries a hooded hawk, with a bell on its claw, and with the other hand strokes its feathers. He is clean-shaven, and his long hair, which is beginning to turn grey, covers his ears. Across the plain blue background, which has turned green through the discoloration of the varnish, on either side of the sitter’s head, runs the inscription in Roman lettering:

The painting of the beautiful plumage of the bird is a most masterly piece of work, and the keen, piercing eyes and clean-cut face of its master are rendered with that unerring truth and wonderful insight which give Holbein his foremost place among the supreme painters of portraits.

This picture was seen by Sir Joshua Reynolds during his tour through Flanders and Holland in 1781, and in his diary he describes it as:—“A portrait by Holbein; admirable for its truth and precision and extremely well coloured. The blue flat ground which is behind the head gives a general effect of dryness to the picture: had the ground been varied, and made to harmonize more with the figure, this portrait might have stood in competition with the works of the best portrait painters.”[115] This accusation of a slight “dryness” is to some extent true of certain, though by no means all, of the portraits painted by Holbein in England, when compared with some of his earlier work done in Basel. It has been suggested that this may have been due to a growing habit, caused by the increasing demands made upon his time, 57of placing greater reliance on his preliminary chalk studies in painting a portrait, and thereby reducing the number of sittings given him by the actual model.[116]

An old copy of this portrait was lent to the Tudor Exhibition, 1890 (No. 173A), by the Rev. Charles Shepherd. The original picture was once in the royal collections of England. It was No. 8 on the list of objects of art which Queen Anne reclaimed from the Dutch States at the death of William III as having formed part of the collection belonging to the English royal house. Her claim was unsuccessful, and the picture remained in Holland. On the back of the panel are the letters W.E.H.P.L.C. and the seal of Johan Willem Friso, Prince of Orange-Nassau, in whose collection it was, and afterwards in that of William V. The second fine portrait of a man with a hawk in the Hague Gallery,[117] dated 1542, was another of the pictures claimed by Anne, and was No. 21 in her list. A third picture in the Hague, the beautiful portrait of a young woman[118] (No. 275), now considered to represent Holbein’s wife, has been already described. The Cheseman and the 1542 portrait were evidently taken over to Holland, with other paintings, by William III during one of his visits to the Hague.

A small round portrait on wood, in the collection of Frau L. Goldschmidt-Przibram in Brussels,[119] is dated 1533. According to both Woltmann and Zahn it is in a very damaged condition, but is a genuine work of Holbein. It represents a young man at half-length, facing the spectator, but with the head slightly turned to the left. He is clean-shaven, with bushy hair half hiding his ears, and wears the small flat black cap and costume of the German merchants of the Steelyard, and he was probably a member of that body. The right hand only is shown, holding a carnation. Across the plain background, on either side of the head, is inscribed “ANNO 1533.” The face is a very attractive one, and the portrait has for years been regarded as representing the painter himself. Dr. Woltmann so included it in his book, but it bears little resemblance to the genuine portraits of Holbein. It was previously in the Jäger, Gsell, and Fräulein Gabriele Przibram collections in Vienna.

58During 1533, or in the first months of 1534, Holbein painted Thomas Cromwell. The future Earl of Essex and “viceregent of the King in all his ecclesiastical jurisdiction within the realm” was then only at the beginning of his political career, and filled the minor post of Master of the Jewel House. The portrait of him in the possession of the Earl of Caledon,[120] at Tyttenhanger Park, St. Albans, which is evidently the original of several versions still in existence, although it has suffered greatly in the course of time, must be regarded as a genuine work of Holbein’s brush. The face has undergone severe repainting, but in many of the details his hand can be clearly traced. On one of the papers on the table in front of the sitter is the following address: “To our trusty and right wellbiloved Counsailler Thomas Cromwell, Maister of or Jewelhouse,” which proves that it cannot have been painted later than the first months of 1534, for early in that year Cromwell was promoted to be First Secretary of State and Master of the Rolls. He must, therefore, have sat to Holbein at some date between the latter half of 1532 and the spring of 1534, having been appointed to the Jewel House on the 12th April 1532 in place of Robert Amadas, the jeweller. If done after his advancement, his higher titles would have been noted in the inscription.

It is very possible that Cromwell first made the acquaintance of Holbein through their common friends, the merchants of the Steelyard, with whom the future Lord Privy Seal was closely allied in more than one business transaction, more particularly in connection with the wool trade, of which the Hanse merchants then had a monopoly. He also made constant use of their services later on in his career for the collection of continental news, the forwarding of diets to various English ambassadors abroad, the translating of foreign letters, and so on.

Eustace Chapuys, the Spanish Ambassador in London, in reply to a query from his Imperial master as to the character of Henry’s new minister, sent, in November 1535, a short and amusing biographical sketch of his career, interesting as showing how Cromwell appeared in the eyes of a foreigner.

“The Secretary, Cromwell,” he wrote, “is the son of a poor farrier, who lived in a little village a league and a half from here (London), and 59is buried in the parish graveyard. His uncle, father of the cousin whom he has already made rich, was cook (cousinier) of the late archbishop of Canterbury. Cromwell was ill-behaved when young, and after an imprisonment was forced to leave the country. He went to Flanders, Rome, and elsewhere in Italy. When he returned he married the daughter of a shearman, and served in his house; he then became a solicitor. The cardinal of York, seeing his vigilance and diligence, his ability and promptitude, both in evil and good, took him into his service, and employed him principally in demolishing five or six good monasteries. At the Cardinal’s fall no one behaved better to him than Cromwell. After the Cardinal’s death Wallop attacked him with insults and threats, and for protection he procured an audience of the King, and promised to make him the richest king that ever was in England. The King immediately retained him on his Council, but told no one for four months. Now he stands above everyone but the Lady (Anne Boleyn), and everyone considers he has more credit with his master than Wolsey had—in whose time there were others who shared his credit, as Maistre Conton (Compton), the duke of Suffolk, and others, but now there is no one else who does anything. The Chancellor is only his minister. Cromwell would not accept the office hitherto, but it is thought that soon he will allow himself to be persuaded to take it. He speaks well in his own language, and tolerably in Latin, French and Italian; is hospitable, liberal both with his property and with gracious words, magnificent in his household and in building.”[121]

This is the man whom Holbein painted when he was merely Master of the Jewel House and Clerk of the Hanaper of Chancery. He is shown, in Lord Caledon’s picture, at half-length, seated in a high-backed wooden seat, his head and body turned to the left, looking towards a window, only a small part of which is seen, with a small table beneath it covered with a Turkish cloth, on which papers are placed. He is dressed in a black surcoat with a deep fur collar, and a black cap. He rests his left elbow on another table in front of him, and holds a paper in his left hand, on the first finger of which is a heavy signet ring. The right hand is not shown. He is clean-shaven, and his bushy hair almost covers his ears and falls on the back of his neck. On the table are pen and ink, a richly-bound book with jewelled clasps, and several papers, on one of which is the inscription already quoted. 60On a second paper the word “Counseilor” can be deciphered at the head. The face, with its small eyes set closely together, its thin, compressed lips and double chin, and its sinister expression of cold determination, is a far from attractive one, and lays bare that side of Cromwell’s character for which he was so heartily hated by the Catholic party. In it is to be seen little of that other side of him, of which, after his downfall, Cranmer spoke, when writing to Henry on behalf of his old minister. “Cromwell,” he said, “was such a servant in my judgment, in wisdom, diligence, faithfulness, and experience, as no prince in this realm ever had.” A large scroll stretching across the top of the picture, evidently added after Cromwell’s death, contains a Latin inscription in his praise. The portrait is on panel, 30 in. × 24 in.

A smaller portrait of Cromwell, a circular painting with a green background, and enclosed in a painted square stone frame, showing the head only, is described by Wornum and Woltmann.[122] It was at that time in the possession of Captain Ridgway, of Waterloo Place, London.[123] It is 12 in. square, and differs in some details from the Tyttenhanger portrait. Both writers appear to regard it as a genuine work by Holbein. A portrait of Cromwell was one of the few works mentioned by name by Van Mander when describing De Loo’s collection of Holbein’s works:—“the old Lord Crauwl, about a foot and a half high, taken unusually artistically by Holbein.” Although the dimensions do not quite agree, Woltmann suggests that Captain Ridgway’s little picture was the one thus described. According to Mr. Lionel Cust,[124] the few portraits of Cromwell which have any claim to authenticity are all traceable to Holbein, and fall into two groups, or at most three, each group deriving from an original portrait by him. In the first class are the Tyttenhanger picture and others based directly upon it. This portrait, he says, descends direct from Sir Thomas Pope, one of Cromwell’s instruments in the suppression of the monasteries. The second group includes such pictures as the one in the National Portrait Gallery (No. 1683, 16¾ in. × 13 in.),[125] purchased in 1897, of which there are several versions in existence, though there 61is no portrait of this type so far traced which can be attributed to Holbein himself. The pictures in this group show the head and shoulders only, and differ in minor details from the Tyttenhanger type. The look of craftiness is accentuated, and he is shown with a slight grey whisker, and the pointed arch of the eyebrows is more strongly marked. The third group, which is closely allied to the second, includes the recently-discovered miniature in the late Mr. J. Pierpont Morgan’s collection,[126] and the medal in the British Museum, of the date 1538, which, according to Mr. Cust, is evidently based on a drawing by Holbein.[127] There was a portrait of Cromwell in the Arundel collection, which is entered in the inventory as “ritratto de Cromwell.” This was evidently the one in the possession of De Loo, which afterwards passed, with other works by Holbein, from that dealer’s collection into that of the Earl. Hollar’s engraving,[128] which is not signed or dated, does not appear to have been taken from the portrait at Tyttenhanger, but was most probably based upon the Arundel picture; but whether that picture was an original by Holbein, now lost, or one of the numerous versions now in existence, it is impossible to say. One of these versions is in the collection of M. Ch. Léon Cardon, Brussels.

Several portraits of Cromwell were included in the Tudor Exhibition, 1890, wrongly attributed to Holbein. Among them was a bust portrait, to the right, with a jewel in the cap, and the Garter George suspended from a black ribbon, lent by the Duke of Sutherland (No. 39, 20 in. × 17 in.); a small half-length, to the left, wearing both collar and George of the Garter, from Corpus Christi College, Cambridge (No. 160, 22½ in. × 17 in.); and versions of the Tyttenhanger picture lent by Mr. Charles Penruddocke (No. 162, 18 in. × 16 in.), and the Duke of Manchester (No. 163, 14 in. × 11½ in.).[129] In addition to the Hollar print, engravings were made, from one or other of the copies of the original picture, by Houbraken for his Heads of Illustrious Persons, 1745, from a picture in the possession of Mr. Edward Southwell, and by Freeman for Lodge’s Portraits, 1835, the latter from a picture in the possession of Sir Thomas Constable, Bt., at Tixall. Probably both engravings were done from the same painting.

62There is a magnificent drawing, one of the most powerful studies Holbein ever accomplished, in the collection of the Earl of Pembroke and Montgomery at Wilton House,[130] which until recently has been generally regarded as a portrait of the Lord Privy Seal—though it bears little likeness to the Tyttenhanger panel—because the words “Lord Cromwell” and “Holbein” have been inscribed in the bottom corners by a later hand than the painter’s. It is in black and red chalk on paper tinted pink, with slight touches of colour on the fur of the gown and the jewel in the cap. The outlines of the features have been reinforced in ink, but this, in contradistinction to some of the drawings in the Windsor collection, where such retouching is evidently from a later hand, has been carried out with such power combined with delicacy that it seems certain that it was done by Holbein himself. The drawing evidently at one time formed part of the Windsor series, at the date when the latter was given by Charles I to an earlier Earl of Pembroke in exchange for the little “St. George” by Raphael, which is now in the Hermitage. This book of drawings was afterwards given by Pembroke to the Earl of Arundel, and it is most probable that the so-called “Cromwell” drawing remained behind, perhaps by accident. Quite recently it has been definitely identified as the portrait of George Nevill, third Lord Abergavenny, by means of a miniature in the possession of the Duke of Buccleuch, in water-colours, on a playing card, which is based on Holbein’s drawing, and is inscribed “G. Abergaveny.”[131] It bears a very strong likeness to the drawing, and is attributed to Holbein himself. Further proof of identity is obtained from a picture, which agrees with the miniature but does not show the hands, in the collection of the Marquis of Abergavenny at Edridge Castle, Kent. Both the Wilton drawing and the miniature were included in the Burlington Fine Arts Club Exhibition, 1909 (No. 70 and Case C. No. 22), and the former was in the Tudor Exhibition, 1890 (No. 1414).

Singularly few examples remain of work executed by Holbein in 1534 and 1535. There are no dated portraits from his brush of the former year, with the exception of the two small roundels in Vienna, and none of the latter year, for the date on the beautiful miniature of 63little Henry Brandon at Windsor, usually given as 1535, has been misread.[132] There are one or two portraits which must have been done during this period, among them the Morette, the drawing of Nicolas Bourbon, and a portrait of Nicholas Poyns the younger; but there are so few examples which can be definitely given to these two years that the writer hazards the conjecture that for a part of the time Holbein was out of England. Throughout his too short career the painter seems never to have severed his connection with Basel, nor to have broken the friendly relationships which existed between him and its Council. He remained a citizen of his adopted city, and apparently retained his membership of the Painters’ Guild, until his death. To do so he must have paid some heed to the somewhat strict laws as to the duties of citizenship then in force. The customary leave of absence was about two years, and Holbein may well have returned to Basel more often than is generally supposed. He did not accede to the Council’s request contained in their letter of September 2nd, 1532, but at the end of two years, in the summer of 1534, he may possibly have paid a visit of some duration to Switzerland, returning to England in the summer or autumn of 1535. This is only conjecture, for there is no evidence of his presence in Basel during that period, but it would account for the lack of English portraits of that date, and would also help to explain the fact—in some ways inexplicable—that he did not enter the service of the royal house of England until about 1536. Against this assumption it must be noted that when he paid his well-known visit to Basel in September 1538 he was feasted and fêted by his fellow-citizens in a way which seems to indicate that he had been absent for a longer period than three years. Still, it is not impossible that he was there in 1534-5, and that he even paid a final visit home, about the winter of 1540-41, before his death in 1543, in this way retaining until the end his citizenship and the pension paid by the Basel authorities to his wife.

Vol. II., Plate 12
CHARLES DE SOLIER, SIEUR DE MORETTE
Royal Picture Gallery, Dresden

The wonderful portrait of Morette in the Dresden Gallery (Pl. 12)[133] must certainly have been painted during the period under discussion. Charles de Solier, Sieur de Morette, a well-known French diplomatist and fighting man of his day, who had paid more than one earlier visit to England, in each case of short duration, arrived in London as French 64resident ambassador in place of Castillon, on Good Friday, April 3rd, 1534, and returned to France on July 26th, 1535. This was his last and longest sojourn in this country, and Holbein must have painted him between these two dates. Even though the painter may have paid a visit to Basel as suggested, it would still leave ample time for the portrait to have been taken in the summer of either year. Probably Holbein’s introduction to Morette was brought about through the good offices of Jean de Dinteville. Though the Bailly of Troyes had left England in the previous November, Morette may have seen the “Ambassadors” picture in France in the interval, or have heard of it from Castillon, who succeeded Dinteville in London. In any case, Morette, who was one of the special ambassadors who came over for the signing of the treaty in the spring of 1528, was acquainted with at least one work of Holbein, the “Battle of Spurs,” in the temporary banqueting-hall at Greenwich, to which the King had drawn the particular notice of the envoys.

The first known reference to the portrait of Morette occurs in the correspondence of Thomas Howard, Earl of Arundel and Surrey, the great collector of Holbein’s work, who employed friends and agents on the Continent to hunt up and buy everything from his brush that they could discover. He got together a remarkably fine series of pictures and drawings by Holbein, which, on his death at Padua, 1646, came into the possession of his widow, then residing in Holland. Upon her decease in 1654, at Amsterdam, her youngest son, Lord Stafford, who was living with her, propounded a nuncupative will in his own favour, and began as quickly as he could to sell the pictures, which it had been the intention of the Earl should become heirlooms, but the deed had never been executed. The sale, however, was stopped by other representatives of the Arundel family, and a lawsuit resulted. Among the documents in connection with these proceedings was one of very great interest, an inventory of the pictures and objects of art in the possession of the Countess at the time of her death. The original list, which was in Italian, and probably drawn up for the Earl in Padua, has disappeared, but a copy of it has been recently discovered by Miss Mary L. Cox in the Record Office. This valuable document was evidently copied from the original by some clerk in Amsterdam ignorant of the Italian language, for it is full of mistakes. The complete inventory was published by Miss Cox, with an introduction by Mr. 65Lionel Cust, in the Burlington Magazine.[134] From it we learn that Lord Arundel possessed no less than forty-one works by or attributed to Holbein, in addition to the drawings, which are not included in the inventory. Among the portraits, some of which have been already noted, were those of the Duchess of Milan, Jane Seymour, Anne of Cleves, Edward VI, the Duke of Norfolk and his son the Earl of Surrey, Sir Thomas Wyat, Cromwell, Erasmus, the Earl of Southampton, Thomas and John Godsalve, Sir Edward Gage, Sir Henry and Lady Guldeford, Archbishop Warham, Dr. John Chamber, Derich Born, and Sir Thomas More and his family, as well as several unnamed portraits, to all of which reference will be found in these pages. Very possibly some few of these pictures, such as the full-length of the Earl of Surrey, were not by Holbein, though given to him in the list. Lord Arundel also possessed several works which so far have not been traced, though the titles may help towards their future rediscovery. Among them is a portrait said to be of Holbein’s wife, which is most probably the picture at the Hague;[135] one of a lady “con gli mani giunti e un agato atacato al beretino”; another of a lady, aged 40, with the inscription, “In all things, Lord, thy wilbe fulfilled”; the portrait of a musician;[136] one of an armed man, which may possibly be the portrait of Sir Nicholas Carew; the portrait of the goldsmith Hans of Zürich; the Death’s-head and bones already referred to in speaking of Ambrosius Holbein; a picture of gamblers or people playing games (“un quadretto con divers figure Jocatori, &c.”); another with the title “Legge Vecchio & Nove” (ancient and modern law); and the Arms of England in water-colours. Before his relations could interfere Lord Stafford had sold a number of pictures to the Spanish Ambassador in London, to Eberhard Jabach, of Cologne, and to the agent of the Archduke Leopold, and this may account for the fact that certain of them remained abroad, such as the Jane Seymour and Dr. Chamber in Vienna, and the Thomas and John Godsalve in Dresden.

In a letter from Turin, dated November 26th, 1628, from Sir Isaac Wake to William Boswell, the former states: “The picture after which you do seem to inquire was made by Hans Holbein in the time of Henry VIII, and is of a Count of Moretta. My Lord of Arundel 66doth desire it, and if I can get it at any reasonable price he must and shall have it.”[137] The picture was evidently then in the market, under the true names of both sitter and painter, but apparently the price was too high, and so Arundel, who possessed the original drawing for it, was not able to secure it. It was eventually bought by the Marquis Massimiliano Montecucculi, ambassador of the house of Este at Parma and Rome, and presented by him to the Duke Francesco d’Este, and so passed into the Modena gallery. According to Venturi, the portrait was at that time attributed by the Marquis Montecucculi to “Gio. Olben.” Some thirty years after the date of Wake’s letter, Scannelli, in his Microcosmo,[138] describes, under the name of “Olbeno,” a picture in the Modena collection which can be no other than the “Morette.” He says: “There was also lately among ultramontane painters a certain Olbeno, a highly qualified master, and in painting individual portraits verily stupendous. It is true in his execution there is something of that native hardness which belongs to his country in other respects; yet through his extreme diligence and truthful fidelity to nature it shows a high degree of perfection. As we see, for example, in the already noticed gallery of H.S.H. the Duke of Modena, where there is a half-length portrait by him which in its exact imitation of nature is quite wonderful.”

At a later date the true name of the sitter appears to have become lost. It has been suggested[139] that, owing to the similarity of the sound, the name Morette was first changed to Morus, as the name of Sir Thomas More would naturally suggest itself in connection with Holbein. In Italy, Morus, again naturally, would become Moro, and so in course of time the picture was said to represent Lodovico Sforza, familiarly known as Il Moro. There is no need, however, to bring in the name of Sir Thomas More at all. The change must have been directly from Morette to Maurus, which was Sforza’s second name, from which his popular nickname “Il Moro” was taken.[140] Holbein’s name in connection with the picture having been by this time forgotten, the title “Maurus,” combined with the beauty of the work, gave rise to the supposition that it could only be from the hand of Sforza’s great 67countryman, Leonardo da Vinci; and it was as a portrait of Il Moro by Leonardo that it was purchased by Augustus III, King of Poland and Elector of Saxony, from the Duke Francesco of Este-Modena in 1746. It formed part of a collection of about one hundred pictures, known as the “Modena Gallery,” some of which are now among the chief masterpieces of the Dresden Gallery, which, after long and secret negotiations, the Elector procured for his own collection at the cost of one hundred thousand sequins and very liberal largesse to various agents and go-betweens. For the next hundred years it remained at Dresden as a portrait of Lodovico and a masterpiece by Da Vinci. Then Rumohr, the critic, pointed out that the style and quality of the painting proved it to be an undoubted work by Holbein, while at the same time Von Quandt produced evidence to show that it did not represent Il Moro, but a certain jeweller employed by Henry VIII named Hubert Morett. The paper he contributed to the Kunstblatt in 1846 was accompanied by a reproduction of Hollar’s engraving of the original drawing of the picture, upon which his case was based. This engraving is inscribed “Mr. Morett” and “W. Hollar fecit, ex Collectione Arundeliana. Ao 1647. 31 Decē.” In spite of Rumohr’s criticism, however, the picture continued to be described in the official catalogues as by Leonardo, the authorities, it is said, objecting to the change of name, as in so doing the collection would be robbed of its sole work by Da Vinci; and it was not until the death of King Frederick Augustus that Holbein was allowed to come into his own again. There was considerable opposition, too, to the change from Il Moro to Mr. Morett, the goldsmith, Hollar’s engraving being a poor one, and not very much like the picture. The title was not changed, nor was the final restitution made to Holbein until 1860, in which year Holbein’s original drawing for the portrait made its appearance in London, in the sale of Samuel Woodburne, the art dealer, when it fetched £43, and was purchased immediately afterwards for the Saxon Government by Herr L. Gruner, the director of the Dresden Gallery.[141] For the next twenty-five years the picture was known as “Mr. Hubert Morett, goldsmith to Henry VIII,” who was considered by all writers to be an Englishman, his sumptuous apparel, quite unlike the sober garments worn by jewellers in those days, being explained away by a reference to the tradition that in the 68sixteenth century all Englishmen, of whatever class of society, had a passion for finery in dress.

As a matter of fact Hubert Morett was not an Englishman at all, nor could he be rightly described as “goldsmith” to Henry VIII. He was a Frenchman, one of several jewellers of Paris, who paid periodical visits to London for the purpose of selling their wares to the King and Court. Thus, in August 1536, in Gostwick’s accounts, is the entry: “Hubbert Morret, jeweller of Paris, for jewels bought by the King £282, 6s. 8d.,”[142] while in January 1532 he received 242 crowns, or £56, 9s. 4d., for similar goods.[143] Granger’s statement that Morett “did many curious works after Holbein’s designs” has no foundation in fact. Hollar’s engraving[144] simply calls the subject “Mr. Morett,” though Parthey, in a second edition of his book, cites a second state of the engraving, sold in 1844, with the added words, “Jeweller to Henry VIII”; no one, however, has so far succeeded in discovering a proof of this state, and, in all probability, these words were merely written on this particular proof by someone who had noted the reference to Morett in the Privy Purse Expenses of Henry VIII, published by Nicolas in 1827. This, no doubt, was the source of the legend, adopted at Dresden, that the picture represented a court jeweller.

It remained for a Swedish critic, M. S. Larpent, finally to re-establish the identity of the sitter as that Count of Moretta mentioned in Wake’s letter in the seventeenth century. In a pamphlet published in Christiania in 1881, Sur le Portrait de Morett, he proved conclusively that the Dresden picture represents Charles de Solier, Sieur de Morette. M. Larpent drew attention to the fact that the drawing for the head was once in the possession of Richardson, the painter, and that at his sale in 1746 it was included in his catalogue as “One Holbein, sieur de Moret, one of the French hostages in England,” this, no doubt, being the traditional title which had remained with the drawing since it was in the Arundel collection. It has been suggested that Hollar’s engraving was done neither from the Dresden picture nor from the drawing, as it shows considerable differences in the dress and details, and is circular in shape, while the inscription is “Holbein pinxit” not “delineavit,” indicating that it was done from a painting and not a drawing, and thus proving that the Earl of Arundel possessed another 69portrait of Morette, which has disappeared. In this connection Sir Sidney Colvin draws attention to the print by Hollar of an unknown man after a painting by Holbein formerly in the Earl of Arundel’s collection, which he thinks represents Jean de Dinteville.[145] “Now, this print of Hollar’s,” he says, “is an exact companion to his other print from the ‘Mr. Morett’ in the Arundel collection. Both are small rounds, apparently taken from paintings of almost miniature size, such as Holbein is in several instances known to have made of persons who had also sat to him for full-sized portraits. I conclude that he had painted two such companion miniatures, besides his larger pictures, of the two successive French envoys, Dinteville and Morette, and that both came into the possession of the Earl of Arundel.”[146]

The identity of the sitter was established beyond all possibility of doubt in 1903 by the late Mr. Max Rosenheim’s discovery of a fine contemporary medallion portrait of the same personage, carved in boxwood, with his name and titles in full, and on the back his device of a seaport, a horse, and a dolphin.[147] Charles de Solier was born in 1480, and was fifty-four years old when resident ambassador in England in 1534, the year in which Holbein painted him. He represented him life-size and half-length, standing facing the spectator, dressed in a doublet of black satin, the sleeves of which, from the elbow downwards, are slashed with white silk. His surcoat is of the same black material, with a heavy collar and lining of fur. Both dress and black cap are decorated with gold tags, and in the latter he wears a circular gold enseigne with a figure of Fortune. Round his neck hangs a gold chain to which is suspended a medallion or watch-case of open-work. In his right hand he holds a glove, and his left, which is gloved, grasps the gilt and elaborately chased sheath of a dagger, suspended from his girdle by a chain with a large tassel, such as the one worn by Dinteville. His long beard of a reddish colour is touched here and there with grey. The background consists of a curtain of green damask. It is about 3 ft. 1 in. high by 2 ft. 6½ in. wide.

Holbein’s art, both in the subtle insight it displays into character and in its technical achievement, is seen in its highest manifestation 70in this superb and nobly-dignified portrait, which bears the stamp of truth in every touch. The handling is both brilliant and delicate in all the accessories, in the fine modelling of the flesh, and in the wonderful draughtsmanship of the right hand grasping the glove. As a likeness of a living man and as an expression of the most intimate traits of his character, it holds its own with any piece of portraiture in the world, and is, indeed, complete in every respect, displaying the finest taste in conception combined with consummate skill and unerring accuracy in execution, and most harmonious colour. The original study for it, which, no doubt, once formed a part of the Windsor collection, and now hangs by the side of the picture in Dresden, is unsurpassed for its truth and force, and the subtlety with which the likeness is expressed by the simplest means, eye and hand acting in perfect accord and allowing nothing essential to escape them.

The two small roundels, about six inches in diameter, portraits of a man, probably an Englishman, and his wife, in the Vienna Gallery[148] (Nos. 1482, 1484), formerly in the Schloss Ambras collection, are dated 1534. They are fine works, almost in miniature, though they do not show Holbein at his highest point of achievement. The man, who has a dark-brown beard, wears a black cap and a scarlet surcoat on which the letters H. & R. are embroidered in black and gold, indicating that he was in the service of Henry VIII. Across the background is inscribed: “ETATIS SVÆ 30. ANNO 1534.” The woman, of a very homely type of face, is wearing a dark-brown and black dress, and a white head-dress, which hides her hair and falls on her shoulders in the form of a cape. This head-dress is identical with the one worn by the unknown lady in the Windsor collection (Holmes No. 10), which Sir Richard Holmes thought might be a portrait of “Mother Jack,” nurse to Edward VI. It is inscribed: “ETATIS SVÆ 28. ANNO 1534.” Both portraits have now a very dark blue-green background with a small circular ring of gold round the outer edge. The two are evidently husband and wife, and the latter has more the appearance of a German than an Englishwoman. It may be suggested, therefore, though with diffidence, that it is not impossible that these two small portraits represent Susanna Hornebolt and her husband, John Parker, the King’s bowman and a yeoman of the robes. Dürer speaks 71of Susanna as being “about eighteen” in 1521, which does not quite tally with the age of the sitter in the Vienna roundel, who was twenty-eight in 1834, but it is again not impossible that Dürer imagined the young lady to be two or three years older than she was in reality. Dr. Ganz draws attention to the close likeness between this portrait and the one of an unknown man, also a small roundel, in the possession of Herr F. Engel-Gros, at Château de Ripaille near Thonon,[149] which he reproduces for the first time. The sitter is clean-shaven, facing three-quarters to the right, with a small flat red cap, elaborate black and white Spanish work on his shirt collar, and a red livery coat, lined with blue, with black bands and the initials “H. R.” embroidered on it. He considers him to be either a Netherlander or a German, and suggests that he was possibly a painter in Henry VIII’s service. It may be permitted to go a step further and to suggest that we have here a portrait of Susanna’s brother, Lucas Hornebolt. It was first exhibited in Basel in 1891, and nothing of its earlier history is known. It bears no signature or date, but is evidently of the same period as the two Vienna roundels. There is an excellent old copy on copper of this roundel in the Fitzwilliam Museum, Cambridge (No. 537),[150] in which, however, the cap and coat are black, while no trace of the royal initials on the latter can be discerned.

Among the Windsor drawings there are three, two of them very fine, which represent members of the Poyns or Poyntz family—John Poyns,[151] of North Wokendon, Essex, a member of the royal household and one of Wyat’s most intimate friends, in which the face is almost in profile to the right, with the eyes turned upwards, and a small round black cap which only covers the hair in part; and two of Nicholas Poyntz, of the Gloucestershire branch of the family.[152] Both are inscribed “N. Poines Knight,” and they are generally regarded as portraits of a father and son, and are described as Sir Nicholas Poyntz the Elder, and Sir Nicholas Poyntz the Younger. In the one he is 72represented almost full-face, with beard and bare head, a free drawing without the black lines, and somewhat rubbed. The other is a small head in profile to the left, with a short beard and moustache, wearing a round cap with white feather, and a gold chain on his shoulders. There seems to be no great difference between the ages of the two, and as Nicholas Poyntz’s father was named Anthony, probably the inscription on the first-named drawing is incorrect, and the sitter is not a member of this family. There are various portraits based upon the second drawing, all apparently contemporary copies of a lost original.[153] One of them was lent by the Marquis of Bristol to the Tudor Exhibition, 1890 (No. 79). It is a life-size portrait, half-length, in a black dress, on panel, 24 × 17 in. Another is described by Woltmann, who saw it in the possession of the Marquis de la Rosière in Paris.[154] It was photographed by Braun, but since then has disappeared. It agrees with the drawing and Lord Bristol’s picture. Both are inscribed on the right-hand side of the blue background:—“ETATIS SVÆ 25. ANNO 1535,” and above, a three-lined French motto—“IE OBAIS A QVI IE DOIS. IE SERS A QVI ME PLAIST. ET SVIS A QVI ME MERITE.” Woltmann regarded the Paris example as a fine and genuine work by Holbein,[155] but it is only an old copy. There is another in the possession of Lord Spencer at Althorp. Wornum notes a miniature on vellum, with a plain blue background, then in the possession of Mr. R. S. Holford, of Dorchester House, which corresponds with the Windsor drawing.[156] Sir Nicholas Poyntz was the eldest son of Anthony Poyntz, of Iron Acton, Gloucestershire, and Elizabeth, daughter and heir of William Hudson, of Devonshire. He does not appear to have held any office in connection with the Court. He married Joan, daughter of Thomas, Lord Berkeley, and died in 1557.

Another portrait painted by Holbein in 1535 was that of the French poet, Nicolas Bourbon de Vandœuvre, who was in England during that year. Bourbon was court-poet to Francis I, but eventually fell into disgrace owing to certain passages in his poems. In 1534 he was thrown into prison, from which he was finally released through the intervention of Henry VIII, whose interest in him had been aroused both by Anne Boleyn, who had made his acquaintance during her 73residence at the French Court in her younger days, and also by Henry’s physician, Dr. Butts. To show his gratitude he came over to England in 1535, and found plenty of employment in court circles as an instructor of youth. He returned to France in 1536, leaving many friends behind him. While in London he appears to have lodged with Cornelis Hayes, one of the chief goldsmiths employed by the King. Among his more intimate friends were Kratzer and Holbein, as may be gathered from a letter which he wrote after his return to France to Thomas Solimar, the King’s secretary, in which he says:—“I have yet to beg you to greet in my name as heartily as you can all with whom you know me connected by intercourse and friendship: Mr. Thomas Cranmer, the Archbishop of Canterbury ... Mr. Cornelius Heyss, my host, the King’s goldsmith; Mr. Nicolaus Kratzer, the King’s astronomer, a man who is brimful of wit, jest, and humorous fancies; and Mr. Hans, the royal painter, the Apelles of our time. I wish them from my heart all joy and happiness!”[157]

Bourbon held Holbein’s art in the greatest admiration, and more than one reference to it, couched in terms of high praise, appears in his printed works. The original study for the portrait Holbein painted of him is among the Windsor drawings,[158] but the picture itself has disappeared. In the sketch he is represented turned to the left, with a pen in his hand, as though in the act of composing. He has a small beard, and wears a black cap over his long hair, and looks thoughtfully in front of him, the right arm and hand being only roughly indicated. It is inscribed “Nicholas Borbonius Poeta,” and is a fine drawing, in excellent condition, but some doubts have been expressed as to whether it really represents the poet. Bourbon was delighted with the portrait Holbein painted of him, and sings its praises in an epigram on the “incomparable painter” Hans Holbein, which he published in his Nugae. It runs:

(“While the divine genius of Hans immortalises my features, tracing them on the panel with skilful hand, I also have painted him thus in verse; Hans, thus painting me, was greater than Apelles.”)

74Holbein made a smaller drawing of the portrait, which was produced as a woodcut for the 1538 edition of Bourbon’s poems, the Nugae. In this also the poet is engaged in writing, but the position is reversed. It is inscribed “Nic. Borbonius Vandop. Anno Aetatis xxxii. 1535.” The portrait is circular, within a square, the corners being filled in with Renaissance ornament, and below two naked boys supporting a shield with Bourbon’s coat of arms, a swan surmounted by a cross. On the last page is printed the following:

Both his friendship for Holbein and his admiration for his art find expression in a further poem or epigram printed in the Nugae, headed “In picturam Hansi regii apud Britannos pictoris et amici.” The verses describe a miniature painting by Holbein:

(My Hans has painted on an ivory panel a slumbering boy, looking like a reposing Cupid; I see him, I am astonished, I regard him as Charintus, whom my heart loves most warmly; I approach burning with passion, yet as I kiss him, it is only a semblance.)

All traces of this miniature, which Bourbon extols so highly, have disappeared. Two other laudatory references to Holbein occur in the Nugae. In the 1538 edition, which was published in Lyon in the same year as the “Dance of Death” cuts and the Old Testament illustrations, the following lines have reference to the former designs:

Painter Hans has expressed the image of Death with so much art, that Death himself now seems a living being, and he by the glory of his work has made himself the compeer of the immortal gods.)

75These verses read as though they were written to accompany the first edition of the “Dance of Death” woodcuts, but for some reason were never used. They are interesting, too, as containing the only contemporary reference to Holbein as the actual designer of the series. In the same edition occur the following lines:

which may be paraphrased as—“Whoever wishes to see the painter equal to Parrhasius or Zeuxis must call Hans Holbein from England and Georgius Reperdius from the French town of Lyon.” Reperdius was the Italian engraver Reverdino, about whom little is known, except that much of his engraved work was after Primaticcio. The latter was working at Fontainebleau at this period, and, if Bourbon is to be believed, Reperdius was settled in Lyon, where the poet probably met him when visiting that town for the purpose of making arrangements for the republishing of his Nugae.

For the second edition of the “Old Testament” illustrations, published in 1539, Bourbon furnished, as already noted,[159] a Latin poem in which Holbein, as the designer of the woodcuts, is compared with and placed above the greatest painters of antiquity. It describes a scene in Elysium, in which the three great Greek painters, Apelles, Zeuxis and Parrhasius appear:

Apelles breaks forth into a lament over the eclipse of their fame brought about by Holbein, and exclaims:

The verses are too long for quotation. Bourbon has added to them a Greek distich, with its translation into Latin:

Vol. II., Plate 13
TITLE-PAGE OF COVERDALE’S BIBLE
1535
From a copy in the British Museum

No other portrait by Holbein can be definitely attributed to the year 1535. It was in this year that he lost two of his first English 76patrons, and both on the scaffold—Sir Thomas More and Bishop Fisher, and his distress must have been keen, more particularly over the death of the former, who had done so much for him when he first arrived in London, a practically unknown foreign painter, with no knowledge of the English language. One other work of his, however, the design for the title-page of Coverdale’s Bible, in the publication of which Thomas Cromwell was greatly interested, was issued in this year, and possibly it was he who placed the commission in Holbein’s hands. It is interesting to note that Holbein, who illustrated the first translations of the Bible into German in Switzerland, also supplied a design for its first complete rendering into English, which was published under the title of “Biblia. The Bible, that is, the holy Scripture of the Olde and New Testament, faithfully and truly translated out of Douche and Latyn in to Englishe, M.D.XXV.” This fine folio was printed in Zürich by Froschover, and no doubt Holbein’s title-page[160] (Pl. 13) was also cut abroad, for there was no one in England at that time capable of producing so excellent an engraving. The design is divided into six little pictures which surround the title. The one across the top contains the Fall and the Redemption; on the left Adam and Eve stand under the Tree, and on the right Christ rises from the tomb, triumphant over Death and Hell. On the left-hand side of the page Moses is shown on Mount Sinai receiving the Tables of the Law, and beneath him is a representation of Ezra reading the Old Law to the Jews on their return from the Captivity. On the opposite side, in the upper picture, Christ is sending forth His disciples into the world to preach the gospel, and in the lower Paul is seen preaching. In the panel across the bottom of the page Henry VIII is seated on his throne under a canopy, with a sword of state in one hand and a Bible in the other, which he presents to the high dignitaries of the Church and the nobles of his Court, who kneel below him. On either side within arched niches are the figures of King David playing the harp, and the Apostle Paul. The King is represented with a beard, which became the fashion in the year Coverdale’s Bible was published, but in facial likeness there is little resemblance to Henry, due, possibly, to the fact that the block was cut in Switzerland. The design, as a whole, is a particularly fine and effective one, and has not suffered to any great extent from the cutting, which is good, though not 77the handiwork of a Lützelburger. Certain of the figures are of great beauty, in particular those of the risen Christ, the Adam and Eve, and the Paul. The resemblance, in facial type and movements, between the figure of the Saviour sending forth His disciples to preach and the Christ in the “Noli me Tangere” picture at Hampton Court, has been already noted.[161]

The few designs which Holbein made for woodcuts while in England appear to have been all done at about this time, when the abuses of the Church were being attacked most severely and the monasteries were being swept away; though some of them were not actually published until some years later. In them Holbein, just as he had done in his woodcuts produced in Basel, in no way attempts to disguise his adherence to the reformed religion. This feeling was shown very strongly in a series of twenty-two small satirical drawings of the Passion which appear to have been preserved in a little book, now unfortunately lost. At one time it was in the possession of the Earl of Arundel, and was shown by him to Sandrart as a work of Holbein’s. The latter mentions it in his Teutsche Akademie, stating that each sheet was full of little figures of every kind, that of the Redeemer always appearing under the form of a monk attired in black. Sixteen of these designs were engraved in the seventeenth century, no doubt while in the Arundel collection, and most probably by Hollar, though they are unsigned and have not the customary “Ex Collec. Arundell:” beneath them. In them “the enemies of Christ are represented in the dress of monks and friars, and instead of weapons they bear croziers, large candlesticks, and other church ornaments; Judas appears as a capucin, Annas as a cardinal, and Caiaphas as a bishop. In the subject of Christ’s Descent to Hades the gates are hung with papal bulls and dispensations; above them are the Pope’s arms, and the devil as keeper of the gate wears a triple crown.”[162]

Woltmann describes a second title-page, very finely cut, which he considers to have been produced during Holbein’s sojourn in England. So far it has not been discovered in any published book, but there is a fine proof of it in the Munich Print Room. On either side stand St. Peter and St. Paul, the latter pointing upwards, two tall slender figures. 78They appear as pillars of the church, and are represented as supporting the blank title itself, which is in the form of a paper scroll. In an arch above is Christ risen from the Tomb, trampling upon Death and Satan, and below are the arms of Henry VIII supported by two heraldic beasts.[163]

Something of the same satirical feeling shown in the lost drawings of the Passion is to be seen in two or three small woodcuts of this period, which, from the inferiority of the cutting, were very probably produced in England. Two of them appeared among the twenty-six little cuts in Cranmer’s Catechism, a small octavo volume published in 1548, the full title being, “Catechismus, that is to say, a shorte instruction into Christian religion for the singular commoditie and profyte of childrē and yong people. Set forth by the mooste reverende father in God, Thomas Archbyshop of Canterbury, primate of all Englande and Metropolitane.—Gualterus Lynne excudebat, 1548.” The first of Holbein’s two small pictures (folio CL) represents the parable of the Pharisee and the Publican,[164] the scene taking place in a church, with the Pharisee as a monk, kneeling at an altar, whom Christ points out to His disciples, while the Publican stands with head bent in front of them. On the edge of a book on the altar steps are the initials “H. H.” The subject of the second cut (folio CCI) is Christ casting out the Devil from the possessed man,[165] which, in spite of the unsatisfactory cutting, is very dramatic and retains much of the beauty and individuality of Holbein’s design. The Pharisees and others who stand behind are represented as bishops, monks and priests. It is signed in full “HANS HOLBEN.” A third woodcut, very similar to these, but still more feeble in execution, represents Christ as the Good Shepherd,[166] surrounded by His disciples, and pointing to the “hired servant,” here again dressed as a monk, who is flying before the wolf which scatters his frightened flock. This also is signed in full “HANS HOLBEIN.” It appears in a small English pamphlet, “A lytle treatise after the manner of an Epystle, wryten by the famous clerk Doctor Vrbanus Regius,” which was 79also published by Walter Lynne, in the same year, 1548, as the Catechism.

A third, and more important, publication of 1548, Hall’s Chronicle, contains a large folio woodcut representing King Henry VIII in Council,[167] which Woltmann regarded as undoubtedly of Holbein’s design. The scene takes place in a magnificent chamber hung with tapestries, with the King, his legs apart in his characteristic attitude, seated on a throne beneath a baldachin bearing his arms. He is surrounded by his councillors, twenty-seven in number, some listening, others lost in thought, and others again whispering among themselves. The cutting is excellent, and was probably done in Switzerland. The socle with the framework enclosing the inscription “King Henry the eyght,” and the two supporting sirens, are almost identical with the socle and supports in the beautiful woodcut of Erasmus with the figure of Terminus already described. These, with the small portraits of Wyat and Bourbon, and the “Charitas” device for Reinhold Wolfe, constitute almost the whole of Holbein’s work as a book-illustrator while in England.

There are several undated portraits and studies for portraits which must have been produced between the years 1535 and 1537, among them the likeness of Sir Thomas Wyat, the famous poet and courtier, whose father, Sir Henry Wyat, had been painted by Holbein during his first English visit. Wyat was about the Court during the period under discussion; a few years later he was often absent from England on foreign embassies. There is a study for his portrait among the Windsor drawings (Pl. 14)[168] which is one of the finest in the collection, though considerably rubbed and stained, and also a good, possibly contemporary, copy.[169] He is represented nearly full-face, wearing a cap, and with a long flowing beard, both hair and beard being modelled with the brush. The portrait which must have been painted from this singularly attractive study is not now known to exist; a small painting in oils corresponding to the drawing, but not by Holbein, was exhibited by Mr. Bruce at the National Portrait Exhibition in 1866. A second portrait of Sir Thomas was drawn by Holbein at a somewhat later date, which was reproduced as a woodcut, shortly after the poet’s 80death, in the little book entitled Næniæ in Mortem Thomæ Viati Equitis Incomparabilis, written by John Leland, the antiquary, in honour of his memory, and published in 1542. The portrait,[170] which is a small roundel in the style of the circular portraits in wax or boxwood which were at that time much in vogue, may have been drawn by Holbein himself on the block. The engraving itself is somewhat crudely done, but was, no doubt, the best that could be procured at that time in London; yet in spite of its roughness the little portrait is a true likeness, full of character, such as no one in England but Holbein could have produced. Wyat is represented almost in profile to the right, with a long beard and a high bare forehead, bearing out Leland’s description in his panegyric that “nature had given the youth dark auburn hair, but this gradually disappeared and left him bald, but the thick forest of his flowing beard increased more and more.” The neck is bare, and bounded by a slight drapery in the classical manner, giving it the appearance of a medallion. Underneath the woodcut, which is printed on the reverse of the title, are the following lines in praise of both painter and poet:

(Holbein, the greatest in the magnificent art of painting, has sketched this portrait, yet no Apelles can express in painting Wyat’s mind and happy genius.)

Vol. II., Plate 14
SIR THOMAS WYAT
Drawing in black and coloured chalks
Windsor Castle

The drawing, no doubt, was made by Holbein on purpose for the book, but whether it was an original study from memory, or was based on a portrait of Wyat he had painted some little time previously, is uncertain. Several circular oil paintings exist which are either founded upon the Næniæ woodcut, or are contemporary copies of a portrait by Holbein which cannot now be traced. The latter is the more probable supposition, as in all the paintings the head is turned to the left, whereas in the woodcut it faces to the right, not having been reversed when drawn on the block. One of these versions, formerly in the collection of the Marquis of Hastings, who lent it to the National Portrait Exhibition, 1866, is now in the National Portrait Gallery (No. 1035);[171] a second, apparently a copy from the former, is in the 81Bodleian Library at Oxford. This latter was in the Tudor Exhibition, 1890 (No. 169), the Oxford Exhibition of Historical Portraits, 1904 (No. 24), and the Burlington Fine Arts Club Exhibition, 1909 (No. 50). It is a bust, three-quarters to left, with dark hair, beard, and moustache, and bald forehead, red drapery round the shoulders, and a plain brown background; and is inscribed “SYR·THOMAS·WYAT.” A smaller circular portrait, also on an oak panel, belonging to the Countess of Romney, showing Wyat in the same position, but dressed in the costume of his day, with a black coat lined with white fur, is attributed to Lucas Cornelisz.[172] It is inscribed, “Sir Thomas Wiat. B.1503. D.1541. Lucas Cornelii,” but this is of a later period than the painting, and the date of Wyat’s death is given wrongly. The head is in the same position as in the Næniæ woodcut. On the back of this portrait was at one time another panel, which now hangs by it in Lady Romney’s collection, representing Wyat’s “Maze,” and painted as a record of an amusing incident in his diplomatic mission to Italy in 1527. In the centre of the maze is shown a falling centaur with the Pope’s triple crown on his head. There was a portrait of a Wyat in the Arundel collection (il ritratto del Cavaglier Wyat), but whether this was one of Sir Thomas, or the one of his father, now in the Louvre, is uncertain.

There are two very similar circular portraits in existence of Wyat’s son, Sir Thomas Wyat, the younger, which bear so strong a likeness to the portraits of his father that at first sight they appear to have been painted from the same original. One of them was lent to the Burlington Fine Arts Club, 1909 (No. 48), by the Rt. Hon. Lewis Fry, and the other belongs to Lady Romney.[173] He is shown in profile, to the left, looking upwards, the neck cut off at the beginning of the shoulders, as in the portraits of his father, and wearing a slight, light brown moustache, pointed beard, and short hair. Lady Romney’s version is of the same size as the Cornelisz portrait, while Mr. Fry’s more nearly approaches that of the National Portrait Gallery and Oxford portraits of his father. Mr. Fry’s panel was once in the collection of Charles I, having his brand on the back, and it is possibly the portrait which was in the possession of John, Lord Lumley, in 1590. The “classical” treatment followed in the cutting short of the bare neck has led to the erroneous 82supposition that the portrait has reference to Wyat’s decapitation in 1554 for rebellion against Queen Mary. It is possible that these portraits of the younger Wyat are based on a lost original by Holbein. He was born in 1521, so that he would have been twenty-two at the time of Holbein’s death. Mr. Roger E. Fry sees in Mr. Lewis Fry’s version a predominant Flemish influence. “It remains,” he says, “one of the most inscrutable riddles of the exhibition. It is a work of such great technical excellence that its authorship ought to be discoverable. It seems probable that it was painted in England and from life.”[174]

The very interesting and beautiful portrait of a lady lent by Major Charles Palmer to the Royal Academy Winter Exhibition, 1907 (No. 13), and to the Burlington Fine Arts Club, 1909 (No. 64) (Pl. 15),[175] is now identified, with some degree of certainty, as a portrait of Sir Thomas Wyat the elder’s sister, Margaret Wyat, Lady Lee. This identification is based upon an enlarged version of the portrait in the possession of Viscount Dillon at Ditchley, Oxfordshire, which, according to family tradition, is said to represent that lady, who was the wife of Sir Anthony Lee, and the mother of Sir Henry Lee, K.G. She is shown at three-quarters length, three-quarters to the left. Her hair, of reddish gold, is almost hidden by her black and white French hood decorated with a band of pearls arranged in groups of four, alternating with small panels of gold filigree work. Her dress is of dark-brown damask, puffed at the shoulders, and ornamented with numerous gold tags or points, and a rose-coloured petticoat. Her hands are clasped in front of her, and she holds by a short ribbon a circular gold medallion on which is a figure of Lucrece above a dark oblong stone. On her right hand are two signet rings, one with a red and one with a dark stone. The dress, open at the neck, shows a white collar or lining, and white ruffles cover her wrists. A rose in red enamel is at her breast, and a gold chain round her neck. Across the plain dark green background is inscribed, “ETATIS·SVÆ·34.” It is on panel, 16½ in. × 12½ in. Her long, very sharp nose resembles that of her brother, and her complexion is of a somewhat unpleasant reddish tone. The drawing of the face, and particularly of the hands, is very delicate. It is now in the Collection of Mr. Benjamin Altman, New York.

Vol. II., Plate 15 PORTRAIT OF A LADY
(Probably Margaret Wyat, Lady Lee)
Until recently in the Collection of Major Charles Palmer, now in that of Mr. Benjamin Altman, New York

83Opinion, so far, is divided as to whether this fine work is by Holbein or not. The first impression received is that it is certainly not by him, from the flatness of the modelling of the face, a certain hardness in the execution, and the rather unpleasant red tone of the complexion; but further examination considerably modifies this opinion. It is difficult, if the attribution to Holbein is rejected, to suggest the name of any other artist then practising in England, who possessed the ability to produce a portrait as fine and as remarkable as this one is. To Sir Martin Conway “it appears to be obviously and all over Holbein.”[176] Mr. Roger E. Fry says that “opinion is so divided that it would be rash to dogmatize. The picture is in wonderful condition and is entirely in Holbein’s manner. Indeed, it must in any case be derived directly from a drawing by Holbein. The only question to be settled is whether the master himself ever became so entirely the craftsman absorbed in the technical perfection of his work to the exclusion of the larger issues of expression; whether he could have ever so far lost his sense of relief, treated line so entirely as a matter of edge with so little sense of the mass it should define. Such questions can only be decided by a gradual consensus of opinion. My own belief is that it will be decided ultimately against Holbein’s having actually executed the painting, though I am bound to admit no other known imitator comes as near to Holbein himself as does the author of this.”[177] Dr. Ganz regards it as a genuine work by Holbein, and dates it 1540, drawing attention to the similarity of the enamelled rose fastened to her dress to the one worn by Lady Butts, who was painted by Holbein at about that date.[178] It will be seen that the critics are divided; and it is certainly by no means easy to arrive at a definite conclusion. It is interesting to note, as a minor point, that the gold tags with which Lady Lee’s dress is decorated are very similar to those on the surcoat of Sir Thomas Wyat in the Lucas Cornelisz portrait, and are arranged in much the same manner.

The dated portraits of the year 1536 are only three, one of which, the Steelyard merchant, Derich Berck, has been already described.[179] The second is the portrait of Sir Richard Southwell in the Uffizi Gallery, Florence (Pl. 16),[180] of which there is an excellent replica in the Louvre. 84It was finished on the 10th July 1536, when Southwell was thirty-three years old. It is a small half-length figure, the face three-quarters to the right, wearing a black dress, open at the neck, with black satin sleeves, and a black cap with a circular gold medallion with a negro’s head carved in cornelian. His hands are folded, and he is wearing a gold ring with a green stone, and a gold chain round his neck. He is closely shaven, and his black hair, which partly covers his ears, is cut straight across the forehead. Across the plain dark green background is inscribed on either side of the head in gold lettering:

It is on an oak panel about 19 in. high × 14 in. wide. This is one of Holbein’s finest portraits of his second English period, and displays a very subtle insight into what must have been an unattractive and in many ways despicable nature. The small brown eyes have a look of cunning, and the face with its smooth fat cheeks has few pretensions to comeliness. Southwell was heir to great wealth, and was brought up with Henry Howard, Earl of Surrey, and was intimate with the family of the Duke of Norfolk. In 1531 he was obliged to pay a fine of £1000 before he could obtain pardon for being concerned in a murder, yet three years later he was Sheriff of Norfolk. From 1535 onwards he took an active share in the dissolution of the monasteries, and was in all ways a willing and able tool of his royal master. His treachery helped to bring Sir Thomas More to the scaffold, and, later on, he played an even more treacherous part at the trial of his early companion, the Earl of Surrey. He was knighted in 1542, and appointed one of the King’s executors, and under Queen Elizabeth he became Master of Ordnance. Something of his unsavoury character is suggested by Holbein in his portrait, which is distinguished by its remarkable individuality and its fine technical qualities both in the flesh painting, more particularly in the hands and the eyes, and in all the details of the costume. Nothing is known of the history of the picture except that it belonged to the Earl of Arundel, who presented it to Cosimo II, Grand Duke of Tuscany, in 1620,[181] as one of the best Holbeins in his collection. It is still in its seventeenth-century frame, with a silver tablet engraved with the arms of England and 85the Medici, and an inscription, “Effigies domini Ricardi Southwelli Equitis aurati, consiliarii privati Henrici VIII, Regis Angliae.—Opus celeberrimi artificis Johannis Holbieni pictoris Regis Henrici VIII.”

Vol. II., Plate 16
SIR RICHARD SOUTHWELL
1536
Uffizi Gallery, Florence

The replica in the Louvre (No. 2719)[182] corresponds in all its details with the Florence picture, and appears to be only a good old copy. It has on the back the seal of the Newton family, and was brought by Napoleon from Germany in 1806. Another copy was lent to the National Portrait Exhibition at South Kensington, 1866, by Mr. H. E. Chetwynd Stapylton. A portrait of Southwell, apparently based on Holbein’s picture, was lent to the Tudor Exhibition, 1890 (No. 217), by Mr. W. H. Romaine Walker. In this version Southwell’s coat of arms and the inscription “Copley Stili” are on the right-hand side of the background, and on the left “Richd. Southwell of Horsham St. Faith’s in Norfolk ÆT.95.” The age in this inscription is altogether wrong, for Southwell was fifty-seven at his death in 1561.

Holbein’s study for the portrait is one of the most remarkable among the Windsor drawings.[183] The head and shoulders only are shown, but otherwise it is almost identical with the Uffizi panel; even the four black buttons which stand out against the white shirt are indicated in the same position as in the finished work. It is inscribed “[A]NNO ETTATIS SVÆ 33,” and bears the note in Holbein’s own handwriting, “die augen ein wenig gelbass” (the eyes a little yellowish). This study, which is about 16 in. × 11 in., is in excellent condition.

The third portrait of 1536 represents Sir Thomas le Strange. It is on panel, 15¼ × 10½ in., and was exhibited at the Tudor Exhibition, 1890 (No. 113), and at the Burlington Fine Arts Club Exhibition, 1909 (No. 41), lent by Mr. Hamon le Strange.[184] It is a bust portrait, three-quarters to the left. The sitter has greyish hair cut straight across the forehead, and a short brown beard and moustache. His black cap has a number of gold tags and a medallion, and he wears a gown with a brown fur collar over a black dress, a pleated white collar from which long tags hang down, and a long gold chain over his shoulders. Across the top, on the green-blue background, is the repainted inscription “ANNO DE 1536 ÆTATIS SVÆ 43.” It has suffered 86considerable repainting about the face, but it is a picture of much interest, and since it was last exhibited has been acknowledged by most of the leading critics to be a genuine work by Holbein. The original drawing for this picture, which shows some slight differences, is in the Windsor collection.[185] Sir Thomas Strange or le Strange, of Hunstanton, Norfolk, was born in 1493, and entered the service of Henry VIII as esquire of the body, was knighted, and accompanied the king to the Field of the Cloth of Gold. He was High Sheriff of Norfolk in 1532, and died in 1545.

A small, undated bust portrait of Lady Vaux, wife of Thomas, second Lord Vaux, of Harrowden, the poet, has every appearance of belonging to this period. There are two versions of it, one in the Prague Gallery (No. 608),[186] and one at Hampton Court (No. 591 (337)).[187] Dr. Ganz regards both as old copies, but Sir Claude Phillips considers the former to be the original work by Holbein, and A. von Zahn says that it is indubitably original, but has suffered so severely and has been so heavily over-painted that little of Holbein’s handiwork is left. The Hampton Court version is the better of the two, and is apparently an excellent copy, though in technique of a somewhat later date.[188] It has been held, nevertheless, by most English writers to be a genuine but badly-damaged work of Holbein. The head has been repainted, which gives it that faded appearance noted by Mr. Wornum[189] and Dr. Waagen,[190] though the latter attributed it to “the attempt to give the refinements of the modelling in grey half-tones,” in doing which Holbein “sacrificed the warm local colours observable in his earlier pictures.” On the other hand, many of the accessories, such as the gold-and-enamel medallion, the chain round her neck, the ring, and the cuffs, display a delicacy of execution not easily attributable to anyone but Holbein. She is represented to the waist, almost full-face, the body turned slightly to the spectator’s left, and is dressed in black, with ermine upon the sleeves, and the customary diamond-shaped hood, edged with pearls, and with a black fall. She wears a thin black chain round her neck, and at her breast a circular brooch with a figure of the 87Virgin enthroned. Her hands rest in her lap, and in her right she holds a pink. It is on panel, 1 ft. 3 in. high by 11¼ in. wide. Mr. Law suggests that it is identical with “The picture of Madame de Vaux, by Holbein,” which was among the Duke of Buckingham’s pictures sent to be sold at Antwerp, whence it presumably returned with the “Dutch Gift,” and may, perhaps, be identified with No. 410 in James I’s catalogue, described as “One of King Henry VIII’s Queens, holding a gillyflower.”[191] There is a study for the head among the Windsor drawings,[192] in which the strengthening lines are exceptionally hard and pronounced, and mar an otherwise fine drawing. Holbein also painted her husband, though the picture has been lost, but the very beautiful drawing for it, described in a later chapter,[193] remains at Windsor. There is a second study of Lord Vaux by Holbein in the same collection.

Vol. II., Plate 17
SIR NICHOLAS CAREW
Drawing in black and coloured chalks
Basel Gallery

The portrait of Sir Nicholas Carew, Henry’s Master of the Horse, was probably painted during the earlier years of Holbein’s second residence in London. It could not have been done later than 1537, for in 1538 Carew was thrown into prison for supposed connection with the conspiracy of Cardinal Pole and the Marquis of Exeter, and was beheaded on March 3rd, 1539. There is a brilliant study for this portrait in the Basel Gallery (Pl. 17), a drawing in black and coloured chalks.[194] He is wearing body armour, and has a short beard and moustache; his hair is concealed by a close-fitting coif, and there are an octagonal medallion and a white feather in his black cap. It is one of the most masterly drawings Holbein ever made, searching in its truth, and of exact and delicate draughtsmanship.[195] As it was included among the collection of works by Holbein formed by his friend and admirer, Bonifacius Amerbach, it may have been presented to the latter by the artist himself when he was in Basel in 1538.

The oil painting done from this study is in the collection of the 88Duke of Buccleuch and Queensberry, K.G.,[196] and was last publicly exhibited at the Burlington Fine Arts Club in 1909 (No. 45). It is a three-quarters length, turned to the left as in the drawing. The beard is brown, and the coif below the black hat is of cloth of gold. The octagonal gold badge represents a tree stem raguly and a banderole inscribed “SOLA.” He is wearing full plate-armour, and brown trunks slashed with cloth of gold. With his right hand he holds a white truncheon against his hip, and with the other grasps his sword by the scabbard. The background is a green damask curtain, and on a small cartellino in the left-hand bottom corner is inscribed in a cursive hand “SR NICHOLAS CAREWE, MASTER OF THE HORSE TO KING HENRY YE 8.” It is on a panel of unusual shape, being 36 in. high by 40 in. wide. This picture, as a whole, is a fine and interesting example of Tudor portraiture, but parts of it are certainly not by Holbein. The head is good, but the armour and many of the details are by some other, and possibly a later, hand. The probabilities are that it was begun by Holbein and finished by someone else; perhaps the arrest of Carew may have brought the completion of the work to an abrupt conclusion as far as Holbein was concerned. The fact that his name is given on the cartellino suggests that the portrait may be a posthumous one. It was not the usual custom at that time to place more than the date and the age of the person depicted upon the panel. Except in the form of a superscription to a letter held by the sitter, as in the Kratzer, Cromwell, and some of the Steelyard portraits, Holbein was not in the habit of adding the name to the pictures he painted in England. The “Duchess of Milan” is an exception,[197] but even here there is every probability that the cartellino was painted in at a later date. It is difficult to decide whether the Carew portrait was begun by Holbein and finished by some other hand, or whether it is an almost contemporary copy from some lost original. The head follows the Basel drawing closely, but as the latter was owned by Amerbach it is improbable that a copyist could have made use of it; so that, taking all things into consideration, it is safer to assume that Holbein himself had a share in its painting.[198] This portrait was in the possession of John, Lord Lumley, in 1590, and was 89sold from Lumley Castle in 1785 for ten guineas. In the inventory of 1590 it is described as “Of Sr Nichls Carewe Mr of the horse to K:H:8”; and it is interesting to note that the words “drawne by Haunce Holbyn” are not added, as they are after several other works by the master which Lord Lumley possessed. It has been suggested that this portrait is the “Ritratto d’homo armato” of the Arundel inventory of 1655, but if the picture remained in the possession of the Lumley family until 1785 this supposition cannot be correct. Symonds, in his Note-Books, has an entry of “A Ritratto of an English knight by Holbein who sits in a chayre and a table by him,” in the collection of the Earl of Northumberland in Suffolk House, which seems to refer to this picture.[199]

Holbein’s entry into Henry VIII’s service—Painting of “Adam and Eve”—Portraits of Henry VIII—The Whitehall fresco—Van Leemput’s copies of it—The life-size cartoon of Henry VII and Henry VIII—Drawing at Munich—Portraits of the King at Belvoir Castle, Petworth, St. Bartholomew’s Hospital, Chatsworth, Warwick Castle, Hampton Court, Windsor, Rome, and elsewhere—The portrait at Althorp—Portraits and miniatures of Jane Seymour.

THE exact date of Holbein’s entry into the royal service is unknown. Three records of the household expenditure of the King are in existence: the Accounts of Bryan Tuke, Treasurer of the Chamber, which extend from 1st October, 20th Hen. VIII (1528) to May, 23rd Hen. VIII (1531), during which period Holbein was out of England; the Privy Purse Expenses of the King, from November 1529 to December 1532; and further Accounts of Tuke, as Treasurer, from Lady Day, 29th Hen. VIII (1538) to Midsummer, 33rd Hen. VIII (1541). Although Holbein was in England during the latter half of 1532, his name does not occur in the Privy Purse expenses, as it certainly would have done had he then been in the King’s employment. Unfortunately, no accounts have been preserved for the period between 1533 and 1537, and so it is not until 1538 that we have definite proof that the painter was in receipt of a regular salary from the royal purse. The first entry referring to him is at Lady Day, 1538, when the following occurs: “Item, for Hans Holben, paynter, viili. xs.” As his salary of £30 a year, paid quarterly, was not as a rule paid in advance, he must have already been in the royal service at least three months earlier, that is in December 1537.

The first actual reference to him as painter to the King is contained in the letter of Nicolas Bourbon, already quoted, written early in 1536, in which he speaks of him as the “royal painter,” and it is to be inferred from it that Holbein already held that position in 1535, when the poet was in England and made his acquaintance. The circular miniature of Jane Seymour by Hilliard in the Windsor 91Collection, apparently copied from an original by Holbein, is inscribed “Anō Dnī 1536 ætatis svæ 27”; and the great painting of Henry VII, Henry VIII, Elizabeth of York, and Jane Seymour, with which Holbein covered one of the walls of the Privy Chamber at Whitehall, was done in 1537. None of the earlier portraits of Henry or of his two first queens, usually ascribed to Holbein, are authentic works of his, which affords some proof that he did not enter the royal service until after Jane Seymour had been crowned Queen in 1536, or, if Bourbon is to be believed, that at least he did not do so until towards the end of Anne Boleyn’s life. The small portrait of Henry VIII on the frontispiece of Coverdale’s Bible, printed in 1535, bears little real likeness to the King, and may well have been designed by Holbein without any sitting from him; though, on the other hand, it may also be taken as some indication that he was already the King’s servant in that year. It is safer, however, to assume, as the evidence for an earlier year is so scant, that he received his first pay from the royal purse in the autumn of 1536.

It is extraordinary, and indeed almost inexplicable, that Holbein was at work for so long a time in England before he received royal recognition. That this did not happen during his first sojourn in London is surprising enough, but that on his return he should remain for three or four years busily employed in painting portraits of people about Henry’s court, some of which the King must have seen, is still more difficult of explanation. Henry entered into keen but friendly rivalry with Francis I in his patronage of art, and was anxious at all times to induce good foreign artists to settle in England; and yet here was a painter of gifts which placed him high above his fellows, who, apparently, went quite unrecognised. This is the more remarkable when it is remembered that the King was well acquainted with, and had expressed his delight in, at least one work of Holbein done during his first English visit—“The Battle of Spurs,” which decorated the back of the arch of the temporary Banquet Hall at Greenwich. It is hardly possible that it was owing to any disinclination on Holbein’s own part, however anxious he may have been to retain his rights as a citizen of Basel. He could have entered Henry’s service for a year or two without renouncing his burghership, or becoming a naturalised English subject, and that he did obtain the post in the end seems to indicate that the obstacle, whatever it may 92have been, was not one of his own making. It was, on the other hand, an honour to which he would aspire, and the possibility of holding some such position must have been one of the reasons which induced him to visit this country, as it was with all the foreign artists and craftsmen who made London their temporary home. A satisfactory explanation of this mystery is hard to find, and unless further evidence is discovered, it must remain unsolved.

That there is some possibility that Holbein was indirectly employed by the Crown even earlier than 1535 is suggested by an interesting memorandum dealing with goldsmiths’ work published in the Calendars of Letters and Papers. The paper is undated, but is placed by the editor under the year 1534. It is an account rendered to the King’s Secretary, Thomas Cromwell, by the Dutchman Cornelis Hayes, one of the leading foreign goldsmiths in London during Henry’s reign, who was constantly employed by the King and the court. The articles supplied were apparently for the royal service, the chief among them being an elaborately decorated silver cradle, which may possibly have been for the use of the Princess Elizabeth, who was born on the 7th September 1533. The document runs as follows:

“Parcels delivered to Mr. Secretary by me, Cornelys Hayes, goldsmith. A silver cradle, price 16li. For making a silver plate, altering the images, making the roses underneath the cradle, the roses about the pillars, and new burnishing, 13s. 4d. For the stones that were set in gold in the cradle, 15s.; for fringes, the gold about the cushions, tassels, white satin, cloth of gold, lining, sypars, and swadyl-bands, 13s. 6d. Total, 18li. 1s. 10d. The silver that went to the dressing of the Adam and Eve, the making of all the apples, the gilding of the foot and setting of the currall (coral), 33s. 4d. To Hance, painter, for painting the same Adam and Eve, 20s.”[200] Other items are included in the account which need not be quoted.

The “Hance, painter,” who supplied this picture of “Adam and Eve,” was undoubtedly Holbein, who was acquainted with Hayes, as we learn from Bourbon’s letter, and for whom he almost certainly provided designs for jewellery.[201] The document is not very clear, 93and on a first reading it would appear that the “Adam and Eve” formed part of the decoration of the cradle; but it is more probable that it had nothing to do with it, but was a separate piece of work, either a picture or a carving in wood, honestone, or alabaster, which Holbein was employed to colour; possibly the latter, as the fee paid, twenty shillings, was a small one for an original painting from his brush. Whether picture or carving, it was evidently set in a very elaborate silver frame, decorated with silver apples in relief, as appropriate to the subject it contained, and with coral inset. No trace of this work remains, but the possibility that Holbein’s share in it was a small picture recalls that earlier “Adam and Eve” of the first Basel years, which, as already noted,[202] bears a considerable resemblance to the heads in the picture of the same subject by Mabuse in Hampton Court.

Among the numerous portraits of Henry VIII to be met with in so many of the great houses of this country and in several European museums, which, in almost all cases, are attributed by their owners to Holbein, only three[203] can be ascribed to him with any certainty. These are the large cartoon for the left-hand half of the Whitehall wall-painting, belonging to the Duke of Devonshire; the beautiful little panel portrait in Earl Spencer’s collection at Althorp; and the crayon study in the Munich Gallery. The greater number of the remaining portraits of him, most of them based on the Whitehall likeness, are merely inferior copies, and copies of copies, “shop” pieces supplied to order by Henry’s painters for presentation to foreign potentates and ambassadors, and to his own statesmen and courtiers as a reward for faithful service. Less frequently one is met with which is a good and original work by some painter of lower rank than Holbein, and such portraits, in their turn, have been multiplied by assistants in order to meet the constant demand for the King’s likeness.

The great Whitehall fresco was painted in 1537, and was the first work of importance which Holbein undertook for the Crown. It achieved immense popularity, and for one hundred and fifty years or so every foreign visitor of distinction was taken to see it, while all artists who had an opportunity of examining it spoke loudly in its 94praises. It covered one of the walls in the Privy Chamber at Whitehall, and was painted on either side and over the top of a window, or, more probably, the fireplace, and consisted of four great figures, Henry VIII and his father, Henry VII, on one side, and his mother, Elizabeth of York, and his third wife, Jane Seymour, on the other, arranged within an elaborately designed architectural setting. This great work, which added so much to Holbein’s fame among his contemporaries, was destroyed in the fire at Whitehall in January 1698; but happily, owing to the foresight of Charles II, we still possess, in the small copy of it by the Flemish artist Remigius van Leemput, in Hampton Court[204] (No. 601 (308)), a very valuable record of the composition of the work. The copy is evidently a very faithful one, and though, of course, it lacks all the greatness of style, the vividness of character, and the beauty of colour of the original—for Remée was a poor artist—it reproduces the composition with some exactitude, and so is invaluable to students of the master. This copy was made by Van Leemput in 1667, the probable reason being that the fresco was then beginning to show signs of decay, and that Charles was anxious to retain an accurate record of it before it was ruined. Patin, who visited England about 1670, and saw both the painting and the copy, said that the latter was ordered by the King “pour en estendre la posterité s’il faut ainsi dire, et n’abandonner pas une si belle chose à la fortune des temps.”[205] Walpole says that Remée, as he was familiarly called here, received £150 for his work,[206] which was a very large fee for those days, and shows how highly the King valued the original.

The wall-painting itself was still in perfect condition when Van Mander saw it in 1604. He was deeply impressed by this “over-heerlijk Portret” of Henry, which, he wrote, was so true to life that it filled the spectator with dismay.[207] “The King, as he stood there, majestic in his splendour, was so life-like, that the spectator felt abashed, annihilated, in his presence.” Earlier travellers who saw it and praised it were Johann Fischart, in 1576,[208] and Hentzner, who visited England in 1598; while Duke Johann Ernst of Saxony, who was here in 1613, was also taken to see it; it is noted in the records 95of his journey, “upon this his Royal Highness was conducted into the King’s apartment; it was small but hung with beautiful tapestries on all sides. In this room were the full-length portraits of Henrici VIII, and his father, Henrici VII. They were regarded as special works of art, and similar works are said not to be seen throughout England.” Both Pepys and Evelyn mention it in their diaries. The latter, under the date 11th February 1656, says he was glad to find, on revisiting Whitehall for the first time for many years, that “they had not much defac’d that rare piece of Hen. VII, &c., don on the walles of the King’s privy chamber.” This entry proves that ten or eleven years before Charles II ordered the copy to be made the fresco was beginning to show signs of decay. It narrowly escaped destruction in the earlier fire at Whitehall in 1691, but the conflagration of 1698 was a much more serious one. It burnt down the entire Palace, with the exception of the Banqueting House and a few buildings adjoining it. More than a thousand apartments perished in the flames, and a number of pictures in the Matted Gallery and elsewhere, mentioned by Evelyn, were destroyed. “This terrible conflagration, which broke out about four in the afternoon and lasted upwards of seventeen hours, originated through the neglect and carelessness of a laundress, a Dutch woman, who had left some linen to dry in front of a fire, in the lodging of a certain Colonel Stanley. She and twelve other persons, so it is reported, perished in the flames.”[209]

By the aid of the large cartoon and Van Leemput’s copy a very good idea of the general effect and composition of the picture can be obtained. It is divided into two stages. On the spectator’s left hand stands Henry VIII, turned fully to the front, with arms akimbo, and legs stretched widely apart, and opposite him, on the other side of the picture, is Jane Seymour. Behind and above the King, and to the right of him, on a raised step or low platform, stands his father, Henry VII, and in a corresponding position on the other side, his mother, Elizabeth of York. Henry was very proud of his legs, and Holbein has depicted him in his favourite attitude. He holds a glove in his right hand, and with the left the cord of his dagger, gold hilted, with a gold and blue velvet sheath. His gold-brown doublet is richly jewelled, and his red surcoat is trimmed with fur and elaborately brocaded with gold thread; a heavy jewelled chain crosses his 96shoulders, and from another hangs a pendant. His flat black bonnet is ornamented with pearls, devices in gold, and white feathers. The figure is rather larger than life-size, but looks colossal. His shoulders appear enormous, partly owing to the dress, and partly, no doubt, through some exaggeration on the artist’s part to flatter the vanity of his royal sitter. Henry VII is shown in simpler costume; with his right hand he holds together the folds of his long ermine-trimmed gown, his left elbow resting on the marble pedestal which Van Leemput has placed in the centre in lieu of the window or chimney-piece which occupied the same position in the wall itself. He holds his gloves in his left hand, and has the Garter collar across his breast. Unlike his son, he is beardless, and his long hair falls to his shoulders. Jane Seymour is wearing a dress of tawny gold, full ermine sleeves, and several necklaces of pearls. Her hands are clasped in front of her, and a small white dog is lying on the long skirt of her gown. Behind her, Elizabeth of York stands with her arms crossed, and holding up her dress with her right hand. The floor is covered with a Turkey carpet, and the background consists of richly-decorated pilasters and capitals, niches, and a frieze, in various coloured marbles, in the Renaissance style of which Holbein made such brilliant use. In the frieze on either side are figures supporting a shield. The shield shown in the cartoon bears the initials H and J; the other, no doubt, gave the date. In Van Leemput’s copy the initials have been changed to “ANo. Dō.” with “1537” in the corresponding panel, while the centre of the picture is filled with a high marble pedestal, with two cushions on the top, and on the front of it a long Latin inscription in praise of the two monarchs. Below this is inscribed: “Prototypvm Magnitvdinis Ipso Opere Tectorio Fecit Holbenivs Ivbente Henrico VIII,” and a little below, on a plinth: “Ectypvm A Remigio Van Leempvt Breviora Tabella Describi Volvit Carolus II. M.B.F.E.H.R. A°. Dni. m.dclxvii.”

Vol. II., Plate 18
HENRY VII AND HENRY VIII
Cartoon
Duke of Devonshire’s collection
Until recently at Hardwick Hall, now at Chatsworth

Van Leemput’s inferiority as an artist is shown most clearly in his rendering of the faces. In that of Henry VIII, in particular, the drawing is weak and lacking in character, and as a likeness it bears no close resemblance to the many portraits still existing which were copied or adapted from the fresco. It must be regarded, therefore, as a not very reliable record of the facial appearance of the four sitters as Holbein painted them.

97The pedestal was, no doubt, Van Leemput’s own invention, and the Latin verses must have been specially written for the purpose of his copy. As already pointed out, the wall on which the fresco was painted contained either a window or a fireplace. Charles Patin describes it as “sur le pignon de la croisée”; but it has been suggested that “croisée” is a typographical error for “cheminée.” Patin, however, was not a very careful observer, for he speaks of the subject as “de la main d’Holbein, le portrait d’Henry huit et des Princes ses enfants.”[210] In this, nevertheless, he may not be so completely wrong as at first sight appears. In 1897 Mr. Ernest Law, the historian of Hampton Court Palace, discovered another copy of the great wall-painting, also by Van Leemput, and of the same size and scale as the Hampton Court example, but with one important difference. In the middle foreground the copyist has placed a standing figure of Edward VI. This interesting little picture belongs to Lord Leconfield, and is in one of the private bedrooms at Petworth, Sussex. Patin may have seen this copy, and afterwards may have confused it with the wall-painting; or again, he may have confused the fresco with the picture of Henry VIII and his family, by an unknown artist of the school of Holbein, now in Hampton Court, No. 340 (510), but probably in Patin’s day hanging in Whitehall.[211]

The life-size cartoon of Henry VIII and his father, belonging to the Duke of Devonshire, until recently at Hardwick Hall (Pl. 18),[212] is, though only a working drawing, a superb example of Holbein’s mastery of composition on a monumental scale. It is the original design for the left-hand part of the Whitehall fresco, and along its outlines the prickings are still visible by means of which the design was pounced on the wall. It provides evidence that Van Leemput’s copy was a faithful one, for, with one important exception, the two agree in all points. The exception is in the position of the King’s head. In the cartoon it is about three-quarters to the right, but in the copy it has been turned so that the monarch is looking directly at the spectator. Woltmann is, no doubt, right when he suggests that the change was 98made by the express wish of Henry himself while the wall-painting was in progress.[213] He desired to be shown full-fronted to the world, for he was proud of his appearance, more particularly of his calves, as more than one contemporary anecdote shows. In his younger days, at the beginning of his reign, he was the most commanding figure at the English court, praised by all for his good looks, and celebrated for his great bodily strength and for his proficiency in all manly sports and exercises. He is thus described by the Venetian ambassador Pasqualigo in 1515; “His Majesty is the handsomest potentate I ever set eyes on; above the usual height, with an extremely fine calf to his leg; his complexion very fair and bright, with auburn hair combed straight and short in the French fashion; and a round face so very beautiful, that it would become a pretty woman, his throat being rather long and thick.”[214]

When Holbein painted him he was forty-six years old, and his face had coarsened and had lost all its youthful freshness and good looks, but his figure was still erect and kingly, and retained much of its earlier vigour. In the cartoon he stands boldly and firmly on his legs, active and alert, though massive in build, and made still broader in appearance by his rich apparel, heavily padded about the shoulders. It is in the face that his age and the habits of his life are beginning to leave ugly indications, though this is not to be gathered from the cartoon, in which his features, badly rubbed, are now barely discernible. This, however, may not be entirely due to the accidents of time, for as the cartoon was made for the purpose of transferring the leading lines of the composition to the wall, Holbein possibly only indicated the main outlines, leaving the more careful modelling to be done on the wall itself. Sadly damaged as the cartoon is, a mere fragment of the first conception of a great masterpiece, it nevertheless remains a remarkable and precious work of art, doubly valuable in that it not only shows us Holbein’s methods of work, but is also the only record from his own hand we possess to-day in this country of the most important and celebrated painting he produced while in England. The whole composition is drawn in with the point of the brush, in the manner, as Mr. S. Arthur Strong points out, at once broad and minute, of which Holbein seems to have been the solitary master. In this crowd of particulars almost everyone else would have lost sight of 99the whole, and given us a map instead of a view.[215] Mr. Roger E. Fry speaks of it as one of Holbein’s greatest creations. “It has all the grandeur of style, the lucidity and ease of arrangement of the greatest monumental design of Italy, together with a particularity and minuteness which would seem incompatible with those greater qualities of style had they not been thus wonderfully united. In all the decorative details, too, this great work gives us a measure of Holbein’s impeccable taste at a time when taste was by no means as universal as it had been in earlier centuries.”[216]

This cartoon was in 1590 in the possession of John, Lord Lumley, at Lumley Castle, and is entered in the inventory of the pictures as “The Statuary of King Henry the Eight and his father Kinge Henry the Seventh Joyned together, doone in white and black by Haunce Holbyn.” It passed subsequently into the collection of the Duke of Devonshire, and has been preserved ever since at Hardwick Hall.[217]

When it was decided to change the position of the face, it became necessary for the King to give the painter another sitting, and the full-face drawing now in the Munich Gallery[218] is, no doubt, the very study Holbein made for the purpose. This is not only evident from its agreement with Van Leemput’s copy, but also from its dimensions. It is life-size, and thus considerably bigger than any other preliminary portrait-study by Holbein which has survived. It is in black and red chalks, on paper prepared with body-colour in the manner practised by the painter at that period. The study is of the face alone, part of the hat, the collar, and a small portion of fur on the shoulders being roughly indicated. The short, scanty beard and the still scantier whiskers do not conceal the shape of the massive, almost square face, with its thin eyebrows, fat, heavy cheeks, which from their size make the mouth look small. He gazes in front of him, his eyes unconscious of the spectator, as though the thoughts of the sitter were entirely given to himself. The modelling is masterly, and is obtained by the simplest means; but the sketch, simple as it appears to be, produces a wonderful effect of perfect truth to life. Here is the King exactly as he was, as none other but Holbein could have drawn him. He has 100given not only an absolutely faithful rendering of the face itself, but has laid bare much of the complex character which lurked behind it, and the drawing must always remain both one of the artist’s very finest portrait-studies and also a living document of the utmost value in the history of Tudor England. How this drawing came to be in Munich is not known. It was discovered among a number of other drawings, put aside as of no particular value, by Herr J. H. von Hefner-Alteneck when he was keeper of the Print Room. It does not appear to have ever formed a part of the Windsor series of drawings.

The Whitehall painting became the prototype of nine-tenths of the very numerous portraits of Henry which were produced during his reign and for some little time afterwards. With one possible exception, these works are not from Holbein’s own hand; they were all the work of the less important artists attached to the English court. These, again, are of very varying degrees of skill, some being but coarse and common productions, while others have considerable artistic merits. There is great probability that some of the best of them were from the workshop of Gerard and Lucas Hornebolt, more particularly those half-lengths of which the portrait in Warwick Castle is perhaps the finest example. All, however, had their real origin in the Whitehall painting; in every one of them the King is shown full-face, and in the same characteristic attitude.

Interesting as the subject is, the scope of this book does not permit any attempt to describe, or even to compile a list of, all the portraits of Henry VIII still remaining in England. A few of the principal ones may be mentioned briefly. Several of them are full-lengths. Among these one of the most interesting is in Belvoir Castle.[219] It was purchased by the fourth Duke of Rutland at Lord Torrington’s sale in 1787 for £211. Except in some minor details of the dress, it follows the Whitehall painting very closely. The King is wearing “white hose, with the Garter on his left leg; a gold chain round his neck with the letter H, with a pendant circular gold case without any device; another gold chain or collar across the shoulder over the surcoat is mounted in jewels set in gold-and-enamel. The whole of the dress and ornaments is most elaborately painted and gilded, and in excellent effect of light and colour, being in an absolutely perfect state of preservation.”[220] 101The copyist has made the face younger and more handsome, and much more lacking in expression than the Munich sketch. The background is a curtain with an elaborate design in panels, each one surmounted by a crown. Dr. Waagen thought it to be a genuine work by Holbein. “Although painted on canvas,” he says, “the picture is of such truth, delicacy, and transparency, that I consider it an original.” A similar whole-length on wood, belonging to the Seymour family, is described by Dr. Woltmann, who regarded it as an excellently painted contemporary copy, which very possibly came into the possession of that family through their connection with Jane Seymour.[221] There is a far finer example at Petworth, much more transparent and delicate in its tones, which Wornum describes as “really magnificent.”[222] This work is by no means an exact copy; it differs in various details, more particularly in the dress, which is of silver brocade with a blue mantle lined with ermine. It is possibly the work of a Fleming. The background is architectural. There is another full-length version at St. Bartholomew’s Hospital, with a further variation of the background and the floor. Other repetitions are at Chatsworth,[223] Trinity College, Cambridge, and in the possession of Viscount Dillon at Ditchley, Enstone.[224]

The half-length and three-quarter-length versions, of which the portraits at Rome and in Warwick Castle are, perhaps, the most important, are still more numerous. In these the King is shown in the same position, and apparently several years older, the cheeks fatter and more shapeless, and with greyer beard, while in a number of them, instead of holding his dagger, he has a stick in his left hand. The Warwick picture, which is life-size, to the knees, and full-front, was considered by Dr. Waagen to be a genuine work by Holbein of about the date 1530, but more recent criticism has shown him to be 102wrong in both these assertions. “The square face is so fat,” he says, “that the several parts are quite indistinct. There is in these features a brutal egotism, an obstinacy, and a harshness of feeling, such as I have never yet seen in any human countenance. In the eyes, too, there is the suspicious watchfulness of a wild beast, so that I became quite uncomfortable from looking at it a long time; for the picture, a masterpiece of Holbein, is as true in the smallest details as if the king himself stood before you. In the very splendid dress much gold is employed. The under-sleeves are of gold, with brown shadows; the hands most strikingly true to nature; in the left he has a cane, and in the right a pair of gloves; on his head a small cap. The background is bright green. The want of simplicity of the forms, the little rounding of the whole, notwithstanding the wonderful modelling of all the details, the brownish red local tone of the flesh, the grey of the shadows, and the very light general effect, show this picture to be a transition from the second to the third manner of Holbein, and that it may have been painted about 1530.”[225]

It is, however, impossible that the portrait can have been painted in that year, when Henry was not forty. He appears to be at least fifteen years older than this. The head and hands are good, but the style of painting has little in common with that of Holbein, while the details of the dress lack the beauty, delicacy, and truth of draughtsmanship which are to be found in his work. There is a portrait in the collection of the Marquis of Bute, which, according to Dr. Waagen, is “exactly like the picture by Holbein at Warwick Castle, only less finished.”[226] When he saw it, as far back as 1854, it was ascribed to “Gerard Horebout,” and there is every probability that this attribution is the correct one, for it is not to be expected that the almost forgotten name of Hornebolt would have been substituted for the much better known one of Holbein, and the fact that the former name has clung to the picture for so long is strong evidence in favour of the contention that Hornebolt was the painter of it. For this reason the Warwick portrait, and others like it, are now tentatively attributed by most modern writers to the workshop of Gerard and Luke Hornebolt.

Vol. II., Plate 19
HENRY VIII
National Gallery, Rome

The portrait in the National Gallery, Rome (Pl. 19),[227] which was 103formerly in the Corsini Collection, is a three-quarter length, and is inscribed across the plain background, on either side of the head, “Anno · ætatis · svæ · xlix,” and was, therefore, painted in 1539 or 1540. In dress and position it closely follows Van Leemput’s copy, and the Windsor and other versions, in which the left hand holds the dagger-cord. With the exception of the substitution of brown fur for ermine, and different embroidery on the upper sleeves, the Rome and the Windsor portraits are in exact agreement as to the costume. The face in the Rome portrait is decidedly younger than in the Warwick and Windsor versions, as the date would indicate, so that it is possibly one of the earliest of the contemporary copies, taken directly from the wall-painting under Holbein’s own supervision. It is undoubtedly the best of the later portraits of the King, the face being full of character finely rendered, and it is regarded by a number of modern critics, including Dr. Ganz, as a work from Holbein’s own brush.

An important example of this type of the portraits of Henry VIII is the three-quarter length belonging to St. Bartholomew’s Hospital, London, which was last exhibited at the Burlington Fine Arts Club in 1909 (No. 23). The dress is very similar to the Warwick portrait. The King is grasping in his left hand a black staff mounted in gold. The background is dark, and on it is inscribed: “Anno [~d][~n]i 1544. ætatis svæ 55,” which is incorrect, as Henry did not enter his fifty-fifth year until 1545.[228] The portrait in Windsor Castle,[229] which, as Mr. Ernest Law points out, is the only contemporary likeness of Henry in the whole of the royal collections which has anything of an Holbeinesque character, was evidently copied from the Whitehall fresco. In the attitude and in the details of the dress it follows the original with considerable closeness, though slight differences are to be noted, as in the position of the right hand, which is here placed over the sword-belt, 104instead of below it as in Van Leemput’s copy. Its agreement with the Rome portrait has been already pointed out. The face, however, more closely resembles the Warwick portrait. Mr. Ernest Law suggests that it was executed several years later than the Holbein prototype, by some pupil or imitator, such as Guillim Stretes, after the master’s death,[230] the general attitude, pose, dress, and accessories of the original being carefully adhered to, but the features modified, and the beard shown as thinner and turning grey, to suit his added years, though in outline they still closely resemble Holbein’s drawing at Munich. The size of the panel is 3 ft. 3¾ in. high × 2 ft. 5½ in. wide. It may be the picture which was No. 866 in James II’s catalogue: “King Henry VIII at half-length, with gloves in his right hand”; though this description suits equally well the smaller portrait (18 in. × 16 in.) at Hampton Court, No. 606.

Another good version of this portrait, with the left hand on the dagger-cord, is the half-length belonging to the Earl of Yarborough, while an excellent example of the Warwick Castle type, with a cane substituted for the dagger, was lent by Lord Sackville to the Burlington Fine Arts Club in 1909 (No. 21).

There is also an excellent portrait of the Warwick type in the collection of the Duke of Manchester at Kimbolton Castle.[231] It is on panel, 35 in. × 25 in., and closely resembles the picture in the National Portrait Gallery (No. 496) (35⅛ in. × 26¼ in.), which is attributed to Luke Hornebolt.[232] The latter had at one time a coat of arms on the frame indicating that it belonged at some period to the Nassau family. It may have been taken over to Holland at the time of the marriage of Princess Mary, daughter of Charles I, to William of Orange, in 1641. There are three other portraits of the King in the National Portrait Gallery, while other versions or old copies exist at Castle Howard, and at Serlby, the seat of Viscount Galway. The latter (35 in. × 27 in.) has an inscription on the background giving the King’s titles and the date 1547, the year of his death. Another (36 in. × 30 in.), at one time in the collection of Mr. Henry Willett, and now in the Brighton Art Gallery, is said to have been taken from a wainscot in King’s Walden House, Herts, formerly the residence of Anne Boleyn.

105All these portraits, whether by the Hornebolts or less important copyists attached to Henry’s court, are based on Holbein’s Whitehall painting. There is, however, one other representation of Henry VIII, of about the date of Holbein’s first entry into the royal service, which is of a very different character, and was not painted under the influence of the great German. This is the fine picture at Hampton Court (No. 563 (313)), generally known as “King Henry VIII with a Scroll.”[233] He is seen at half-length, with head turned slightly to the right, but eyes to the front. He has reddish hair, and a small thin beard and moustache, and his eyes are dark grey. He wears a doublet of cloth of gold, cut square across the chest, covered with strings of pearls, and slashed with rows of white puffs, above which his white frilled shirt is seen. Over this is a sable-furred cloak. His black cap has a medallion, with figures of the Virgin and Infant Christ in enamel, and a white jewelled feather. In front of him is a table or ledge with a crimson cushion, on which his right hand is placed, and a scroll of white paper, one end of which he holds between the thumb and forefinger of his left. On it is inscribed a sentence from the Gospel of St. Mark in Roman lettering: “Marci—16. Ite in Mũdvm Vniversṽ et predicate Evangelivm omni creatvræ.” The background is a rich green. It is on panel, 2 ft. 4 in. high × 1 ft. 10 in. wide.

The probable authorship of this painting has given rise to much discussion and difference of opinion. It has been attributed at different times to Holbein, Janet, Joos van Cleve, and Girolamo da Treviso, and even to Toto or Penni. Dr. Woltmann considered it to be the work of a Frenchman, whereas Mr. Wornum was inclined to attribute it to an Italian hand, possibly Da Treviso. The one thing certain about it is that it is not by Holbein. There is an equal difference of opinion as to the date. The King has so youthful a look, as compared with the Hardwick cartoon and the Munich drawing, that some writers hold that he cannot have been more than thirty-eight—certainly not more than forty—when it was painted. This would make the date about 1529, in which year Holbein was in Switzerland. On the other hand, there are two facts which point to a later date—the arrangement of the hair and beard, and the text on the scroll, which, taken together, make it highly probable that the portrait was painted in 1536. It was on the 8th of May 1535 that 106Henry, in imitation of Francis I, ordered all about his court to cut their hair short and to grow their beards—“the King commanded all about his court to poll their heads; and to give them example he caused his own head to be polled, and from thenceforth his beard to be knotted and no more shaven.”[234] In the picture both hair and beard are treated in the new fashion. Again, on October 4th of the same year the printing of Coverdale’s English version of the whole Bible, for which Holbein designed the title-page, was finished, and in 1536 Henry ordered a copy of it to be laid in the choir of every church, “for every man that will to look and read therein; and shall discourage no man from reading any part of the Bible, but rather comfort, exhort, and admonish every man to read the same.” To this the text on the scroll which Henry holds in the portrait clearly refers; and further evidence is supplied by the Bible frontispiece, in which the King is shown under a canopy, with a sword in his right hand, and a clasped Bible in his left, which he is handing to his kneeling bishops. One of the little pictures which form the border of the title-page, in which our Saviour is exhorting His disciples to preach the Word throughout the world, has the same text (Mark xvi. 15) inscribed below it. The evidence, therefore, is very strongly in favour of the assumption that the portrait was painted to commemorate Henry’s share in the publication of Coverdale’s English version of the Bible. Against these two arguments in favour of the date 1536, the compilers of the catalogue of the Burlington Fine Arts Club Exhibition point out that the King does not look more than thirty, which would place the portrait at about the date of the meeting with Francis I at the Field of the Cloth of Gold in 1520. “The portrait of Eleonora of Spain, wife of Francis I, also at Hampton Court,” they say, “is evidently by the same hand; and the smaller portrait of Francis I, also at Hampton Court, is either by, or a copy after, the same painter. These circumstances would point to a possible French origin, and lend some colour to the ascription of the portrait either to “Sotto” Cleef, who worked in France before coming to England, or to Jean Clouet—more probably the latter, who may very well have been in attendance on Francis I at the Field of the Cloth of Gold.”[235] It is difficult, however, to follow these writers in their conclusion that the portrait of Eleonora, almost certainly by the elder Clouet, and the portrait of Henry VIII are by 107the same hand, while the fact that in all the earlier portraits of the King he is shown with long hair, cut straight across the forehead, and no beard, makes it still more difficult to accept the date as that of the meeting of the two monarchs in France, unless much stronger evidence as to its French origin be forthcoming. It is not safe to go farther than to ascribe it to a Franco-Flemish origin. It should be noted in passing that a small point in favour of those who see in it a work by an Italian hand lies in the scroll or cartellino, a feature not often met with in French or English portraits of that time.

On the back of the panel is branded Charles I’s cypher, and there is also a slip of paper on which is inscribed in contemporary handwriting, “Changed with my Lord Arundel, 1624.” In Charles’ catalogue, compiled in 1639, it is entered as “King Henry VIII when he was young, with a white scroll of parchment in his hand; the picture being to the shoulders; half a figure so big as the life, in a carved gilded frame. Length 4 ft. 0. A Whitehall piece, said to be done by Jennet or Sotto Cleve.” It is possibly the picture in the Commonwealth inventory—“King Henry ye 8th by Gennett,” which was “sold to Mr. Baggeley ye 23rd Oct. 1651 for £25.” It may also be the “Table with the picture of King Henry VIII, then being young,” in Edward VI’s catalogue. An early and interesting copy of this picture, on canvas, 28¾ in. × 22¼ in., is in the possession of the Merchant Taylors’ Company, which was in the Tudor Exhibition, 1890 (No. 120), and the Burlington Club Exhibition, 1909 (No. 24). In the catalogue of the former exhibition it was attributed to Paris Bordone. It was presented to the Company in 1616 by Mr. John Vernon. There is a third version of the picture in the Marquis of Exeter’s collection at Burleigh House, in which the same Latin verse is inscribed on the scroll. Dr. Waagen says that “it is very carefully painted in a brownish tone.”[236]

In addition to the Hardwick cartoon and the Munich drawing there is a third portrait of Henry existing which can be attributed almost certainly to Holbein’s hand. This is the beautiful little panel in Lord Spencer’s collection at Althorp (frontispiece),[237] which measures only 10½ in. × 7½ in. It is a half-length, three-quarters to the 108right. No hair is visible under the cap or beside the ears; the hairs of the close-cropped fair beard and moustache are drawn with minute care. The eyes are clear blue-grey. He wears a black cap trimmed with jewels and loops of pearls and a white feather falling to the left. His gown of cloth of gold is lined with brown fur, over a light grey doublet cut low at the neck, embroidered with an elaborate pattern in black, trimmed with jewels and slashed and puffed with white. The white shirt has a high collar fitting close round the neck, embroidered with a rich design in gold, and with a very small frill. On his breast is a round jewel suspended by a chain of spiral black and gold beads and H’s. The hands are shown in part, the left at his side, and the right holding a glove. The background is a plain bright blue.

It is a miniature painting of unusual size, and is drawn with extraordinary delicacy and truth, and there is an exquisite finish in all the details of the dress and ornaments, and a harmony in the colour, which no other painter then practising at the English court but Holbein was capable of producing. The first impression it gives is that, in spite of its beauty and brilliance, it yet displays certain differences from Holbein’s usual style which renders its attribution to him not absolutely certain; but repeated examination modifies this first impression, and it becomes impossible not to agree with such critics as Dr. Woltmann, Mr. Lionel Cust, and Dr. Ganz, who are emphatically of opinion that Holbein was the author of it. It is impossible, again, to find any other painter who could have produced so vivid and striking a portrait of the King, and so accomplished a work of art. Mr. Roger E. Fry describes it as one of Holbein’s most miraculous pieces of craftsmanship. “It is little more in scale than a large miniature, and Holbein has treated it with all the skill in minute delineation which he alone possessed, and that without losing for a moment unity of tone and breadth of feeling; but, wonderful as it is, it gives one scarcely any idea of an actual character. Holbein seems never to have read anything behind the expansive mask of his royal patron; whether he abstained out of discretion or failed from want of interest one can but guess.”[238] After examining the Munich head, however, it is difficult to agree with Mr. Fry’s opinion that Holbein saw nothing of Henry’s real character. The Althorp panel is almost identical in position and dress with the original cartoon for 109the Whitehall wall-painting, and it is probable that Holbein intended to use it as his model for the latter. It must have been painted in 1537, before the wall-painting itself was begun, or at least before the change in the position of the King’s head was decided upon. It may be the portrait which in the inventory of Henry VIII’s pictures, made at his death, was joined to that of Queen Jane Seymour in a diptych—“Item, a table like a booke, with the picture of Kynge Henry theight and Quene Jane”; though, if so, the corresponding portrait of Jane Seymour is lost, for the one of that queen in the Vienna Gallery is much larger than Lord Spencer’s portrait. The latter was at South Kensington in 1862 (No. 2651), and again in 1865 (No. 2028), and at the Burlington Fine Arts Club, 1909 (No. 38).

There is an excellent contemporary copy of it in the National Portrait Gallery (No. 157),[239] 10¾ in. × 7½ in., on copper, which was purchased in 1863, and was formerly in the collection of Mr. Barrett, of Lee Priory, Kent. When in his possession it was engraved in line for Singer’s edition of Cavendish’s Life of Wolsey, 1825. The background is now very dark, but in the engraving it is shown to be a curtain. This is the chief point of difference between it and Lord Spencer’s panel. There is also a somewhat weak copy of it among the miniatures in the Duke of Buccleuch’s collection, which, like the original, has no inscription. It has suffered extensive repairs at some time or other, and the eyes are now a bright chestnut colour, evidently due to the ignorance of the restorer. Other miniatures of Henry VIII, attributed to Holbein, are dealt with in a succeeding chapter.[240]

Jane Seymour was the first of Henry’s queens to be painted by Holbein. The various portraits of Katherine of Aragon and Anne Boleyn still existing are not by him, and it is evident that the artist did not enter the royal service until after Anne’s execution on 19th May 1536, and Henry’s very precipitate marriage with Jane Seymour on the following day. Portraits of both these ladies are usually ascribed to Holbein by their owners, according to the prevailing fashion of earlier days, when everything dating from Tudor times was unhesitatingly given to him. Shortly before Holbein’s return to England in 1532, Katherine of Aragon had permanently retired from court, 110and in the seclusion of The Moor, deserted by the King, her thoughts fully occupied with her impending divorce, it is not likely that she would have any desire to sit for her portrait, or to command Holbein to visit her for that purpose. There is more probability that Anne Boleyn may have been painted by him, but as no such portrait has been discovered, it must be taken for granted that he did not. The head among the Windsor drawings, inscribed “Anna Bollein Queen,”[241] has been wrongly named, and bears no likeness to the few portraits which may be said with some degree of certainty to represent her. Much information respecting the portraits of these two queens will be found in the papers read by Mr. John Gough Nichols and Sir George Scharf before the Society of Antiquaries in 1863 and published in Archæologia.[242]

There is no evidence to show that Holbein painted either Katherine’s daughter, Mary, or Anne’s daughter, Elizabeth, though here again portraits of them exist which in less critical days were said to be by him. The drawing in the Windsor Collection inscribed “The Lady Mary after Queen,”[243] has no claim to represent Queen Mary, nor is there any known portrait of her which bears any likeness to Holbein’s style of painting. The Princess Elizabeth was ten years old at the time of the painter’s death, whereas the youngest portrait of her extant is the very interesting one at the age of about fifteen or sixteen in the Royal Collection,[244] which was included in Charles I’s catalogue as “A Whitehall piece of Holben,” and said to represent “Queen Elizabeth when she was young, to the waist.” This is probably a work of Franco-Flemish origin, and has nothing to do with Holbein, who, if he had painted her, must have shown her as a little girl. Mr. Nichols, in his paper mentioned above, states that “there can be little doubt that Holbein drew the King’s natural son, Henry FitzRoy, Duke of Richmond and Suffolk, who lived until the 22nd July 1536,” but no such portrait or drawing of him can be discovered. There is, however, among the Windsor heads, a drawing of his wife, Mary,[245] daughter of Thomas, third Duke of Norfolk, and sister of Henry, Earl 111of Surrey, both of whom sat to Holbein. It is a fine drawing, but very badly rubbed. She is represented full-face, with the eyes cast down, and wearing a close-fitting white cap or hood, and a large flat black hat with a big ostrich feather. The dress is powdered with the letter R, which in some cases seems to be formed of pearls, while the letter M also occurs twice. This fashion of wearing an initial letter, usually as a pendant ornament, was by no means unusual at that period, and occurs in more than one of Holbein’s portraits. The drawing of the Duchess is inscribed “The Lady of Richmond.”

It is not until we come to the portrait of Queen Jane Seymour in the Imperial Gallery, Vienna (No. 1481) (Pl. 20),[246] that we are on certain ground. This is a genuine work of Holbein of very fine quality. She is shown almost to the knees, the body and head turned slightly to the left, and her hands clasped in front of her. She is dressed in red velvet, with hanging sleeves covered with gold embroidery, and under-sleeves of lilac-grey watered silk with an elaborate pattern, worked with seed pearls, and slashed and puffed with white. The cuffs have a deep border of wonderfully painted black Spanish work. She wears two heavy necklaces, of jewels and pearls, and a band of similar ornament along the edge of her square-cut bodice, and an ornament at the breast composed of the initials I.H.S. and three pendant pearls. Her head-dress is of the angular English pattern. The inner cap, which completely hides her hair, is of brown silk with a black stripe, and the jewelled band or framework is of the same pattern as the border of the dress. The body of the head-dress is cloth of gold, with the customary black fall. The background is of dark grey-blue without inscription. The colour scheme is rich and harmonious, but delicate and pearly in tone, and a considerable amount of gold has been used in the painting of the jewels, and the gold tissue and embroidery of the cap. Once again the extraordinarily fine painting of the hands has to be recorded; they are full of expression and character. There is less expression in the face. She has no great pretensions to beauty, and her complexion is pale, thus agreeing with all contemporary accounts of her appearance. In a singularly frank letter from Chapuys to Antoine Perrenot, dated London, 18th May 1536, which was intended for the Emperor’s ears, the Spanish ambassador 112says: “She is sister to one Edward Semel, of middle stature, and no great beauty, so fair that one would call her rather pale than otherwise.... The said Semel is not a woman of great wit, but she may have good understanding. It is said she inclines to be proud and haughty. She bears great love and reverence to the Princess (i.e. Mary). I know not if honors will make her change hereafter.”[247] He then proceeds to throw doubts upon the lady’s virtue, and to speak in coarse innuendo of Henry’s matrimonial ventures. The panel, which is probably the one which was in the Arundel Collection, measures 65 cm. by 48 cm., and is of the same size as the portrait of Dr. John Chamber; they are the largest of Holbein’s works in the Vienna Gallery. This portrait was evidently the one seen by Van Mander in Amsterdam in 1604. He says: “There was, at Amsterdam, in the Warmoesstraat, a portrait of a Queen of England, admirably executed, and very pretty and nice; she was attired in silver brocade, which appears to be genuine silver with some admixture, and it was depicted so transparently, curiously, and exquisitely, that a white foil seemed to lie beneath.”[248]

Vol. II., Plate 20
QUEEN JANE SEYMOUR
Imperial Gallery, Vienna

The original study for this portrait is in the Windsor Collection.[249] It is a fine drawing of very delicate draughtsmanship, and shows more of the figure than most of the sketches in the series, the folded hands being included. Several replicas of the picture still remain in England, the two best of which, excellent contemporary copies, are in the Duke of Bedford’s collection at Woburn Abbey, and in that of Lord Sackville at Knole. The latter was in the Tudor Exhibition, 1890 (No. 44), and the Burlington Fine Arts Club, 1909 (No. 46). Another version is in the possession of the Duke of Northumberland. Hollar made an admirable engraving from the Arundel version, a small circle dated 1648 (Parthey 1427); and there is at Windsor, as already noted, a miniature painted from it by Nicholas Hilliard, which is inscribed “Anō Dnī 1536 ætatis svæ 27.”[250] Hilliard, no doubt, found this inscription on the original from which he worked, but nothing of the kind is now discernible either on the picture in Vienna or Lord 113Sackville’s version. It may, however, have been taken from one of the numerous miniatures of this Queen, dealt with in a later chapter.[251] This inscription is valuable as giving the probable date at which Holbein painted the Queen, and proves that he was in the royal service as early as in the summer of 1536. Very probably the portrait was afterwards used by him as the basis for the head and position of Jane in the Whitehall wall-painting. There is an excellent old copy of the portrait in the Hague Gallery (No. 278) which shows slight differences.[252]

In addition to this portrait, Holbein prepared a design for a large gold cup, bearing the initials of Henry and Jane, and the latter’s motto, evidently intended as a present from the King to his consort. The finished drawing is in the Bodleian Library, Oxford, and there is another version of it in the British Museum. It is the most important of Holbein’s designs for goldsmith’s work which has been preserved, and is described in a later chapter.[253] Henry VIII appears to have been genuinely devoted to his third wife, but his happiness was short-lived, for she died on October 24, 1537, twelve days after the birth of her son, Edward VI, her death being due to carelessness on the part of her attendants.

Not a single dated portrait of the year 1537 remains, nor is there one which can be ascribed with any certainty to this year. Possibly the great Whitehall wall-painting and other works for the King occupied much of Holbein’s time.

Search for a queen to succeed Jane Seymour—Negotiations in France and Brussels—The Duchess of Milan—Hutton’s description of her—Her portrait by some unknown Netherland painter—Philip Hoby sent over with Holbein to obtain her portrait—Cromwell’s instructions to them—Hutton’s letter describing their visit—The small oil painting at Windsor—Description of the picture in the National Gallery—Continuation and final failure of the marriage negotiations—History of the picture—Purchased for the English nation by the National Art-Collections Fund for £72,000—Portrait of the Duchess as a child by Mabuse.

ON the very day of Jane Seymour’s death, the King and his Council began, with almost indecent haste, their search throughout the Courts of Europe for a new queen to fill her place. Henry’s ambassadors and agents were instructed to make discreet inquiries as to suitable candidates, and before the close of the year a number of names had been submitted to him for his consideration. In spite of this unseemly expedition, however, nearly two years were to elapse before the final choice was made, for it was not until the very end of 1539 that Anne of Cleves came to England as Henry’s fourth queen. Throughout the whole of 1538 marriage negotiations, which in the end proved fruitless, were carried on simultaneously with Francis I and the Emperor Charles V. Though Henry was anxious to marry again, in order that the succession, which rested on the precarious life of one infant Prince, might be made more assured, yet his search for a bride both in France and in Imperial circles at one and the same time was undertaken quite as much for political as for matrimonial reasons. It was his main object at that time to prevent any close understanding between his two rivals. With Charles and Francis united, and Europe at peace, there was nothing to prevent a coalition against England and an enforcement of the papal excommunication of Henry by force of arms. By playing off one monarch against the other with the bait of a proffered matrimonial alliance he hoped to keep the two apart, and by such means ensure the security of his 115throne, and be at liberty to continue the severe methods by which he sought to maintain his supremacy as self-appointed head of the English Church.

In the course of these negotiations quite a number of ladies were suggested, and in most, if not in all, cases, portraits of them were procured for Henry’s inspection. In some instances he sent his own painter for the purpose; in others, what may be termed “official” portraits, painted by foreigners, were forwarded to England by his ambassadors abroad. Of these portraits, two—those of the Duchess of Milan and of the Princess Anne of Cleves—were painted by Holbein, who was despatched to Brussels and to Düren in order to take their likenesses; but the authorship of the others is less certain, and as the portraits themselves cannot now be traced, it is difficult, if not impossible, to arrive at any final conclusion respecting them. There is much probability, however, amounting in two instances almost to certainty, that Holbein made other special journeys, in addition to the two just mentioned, for the purpose of painting ladies who had been reported to the King as beautiful or desirable. These journeys were to France, and solve, in the writer’s opinion, the mysterious journey to Upper Burgundy; but as the negotiations for a French marriage were running concurrently with those for the hand of the Duchess of Milan, it will be better, in order to avoid confusion, to deal separately with each of these proposed alliances, and the various portraits to which they gave rise. For this reason the present chapter is concerned with Holbein’s painting of the Duchess, while in the following one evidence is brought forward which indicates that he also received orders from the King to take the likenesses of several high-born ladies of France.

Shortly after the imposing funeral ceremonies of Queen Jane Seymour, Cromwell wrote to John Hutton, the English agent in Brussels at the court of the Regent of the Netherlands, Queen Mary of Hungary, the Emperor’s sister, to ask him to make secret inquiries as to suitable brides for the King, and in Hutton’s reply, dated December 4, 1537, occurs the first mention of the Duchess of Milan as a possible Queen of England. Hutton wrote:

“Uppon the recept of your letters addressid unto me by this berrar, I have made as myche secret sherche as the tyme wold permyt. 116The which, albeit had byn of lengar contenewance, I cold not perceve that anny sherche cold have found wone soo notable a personage as were meit to be lykynd to that noble Raynge. In the Court ther is wayttyng uppon the Queyn a lady of thage of 14 yerres, daughtar unto the Lord of Breidrood, of a goodly statwre. She is noted varteos, sadde, and womanly; hir beautie is competent, hir mother is departid this world, who was daughter to the Cardynall of Luikes sister. It is thought that the said Cardinall wold give a good dote to have hir bestoid after his mynd. Ther is a widdowe, the wiche also repayrithe offten to the Court, beyng of goodly personage. She was the wyffe of the late Yerle of Egmond, and, as I ame inffarmyd, she parsithe fortie yeres of age, the wich dothe not apeire in my judgement by hir face. Ther is the Duches of Myllayn, whom I have not seyn, but as it is reportid to be a goodly personage and of excellent beawtie. The Dewke of Clevis hathe a daughter, but I here no great preas neyther of hir personage nor beawtie. I have not myche exsperiens emonges ladies, and therfore this commission is to me very hard; soo that, yf in anny thyng I offend, I beseche your Lordshipe to be my mean for pardon. I have wryttyn the treuthe, as nighe as I canne possible lerne, levyng the further judgment to other, that are better skillid in such matters.”[254]

The Duchess reached Brussels shortly after this letter was despatched, and Hutton wrote again to Cromwell on the 9th of December, after a personal inspection of the lady, whom he thought to be very like Mrs. Shelton, one of Anne Boleyn’s ladies, as follows:

“The Duches of Myllan ... arived here as ystarday, very honorably acompenyd as well of hyr owen treyn as withe suche that departed from hence to meit hyr. I ame inffurmyd she is of the age of 16 yeres, very high of stature for that age. She is highar then the Regent, a goodly personage of boddy, and compytent off beawtie, of favor excellent, sofft of speche, and very gentill in countenance. She werythe moornyng aparell aftre the maner of Ytalie.... She resemblythe myche wone Mystris Shelton, that somtyme watid in Court uppon Queyn Anne. She ussithe most to spek Frenche, albeit that as it is reportid she can [speak] Ytalian and Highe Almeyn. I 117knowlige my self of judgment herein very yngnorant, albeit I have inployd my wittes to sartiffie your Lordshipe off the trewthe.”[255]

In a transcript of the same letter, addressed to Thomas Wriothesley, one of Cromwell’s secretaries, and despatched to England on the same date, Hutton added:

“Ther is non in theis parties off parsonage, beawtie, and byrthe, lyke unto the Duches off Myllayn. She is not soo pewre whyt, as was the late Qweyn, whois soal God pardon; but she hathe a syngular good countenaunce, and when she chancesithe to smyl, ther aperithe two pittes in hir cheikes, and wone in hyr chyne, the wiche becommythe hyr right excellently well.”[256]

He wrote still further in her praise in a third letter to Cromwell, dated December 21:

“Synns my letter of the 4th sent unto your Lordshipe by Fraunces the corror, I wrot your Lordshipe wone other of the 9th, wherin I sartified the arivall of the Duches of Myllan, withe my judgement of hir personage and beawtie. Synns wiche tyme I have dayly notid hir gestur and countenance, the wiche presentithe a great majestie with myche sobrenes, soo that in the furtherance of that matter I thynke your Lordshipe shuld doo highe sarvis to the Kynges Highness, and to the whole commune welthe of his Realme like proffit.”[257]

These descriptions were considered to be so satisfactory that Hutton’s other suggestions were discarded, and the young Duchess selected as a possible wife for Henry, if good terms could be arranged. Christina of Denmark, youngest daughter of King Christian II of Denmark and Isabella of Hungary, sister of Charles V, was born in 1523, and had been married, in 1534, when only eleven years of age, to Francesco Maria Sforza, the last Duke of Milan, who died in the following year, October 24, 1535. She was now in her sixteenth year, and as the niece of the Emperor, a marriage with her, so Henry and his Council considered, would be of great political advantage, as it would give the world a proof that his quarrel with Charles over the divorce of Katherine of Aragon was at an end. Henry, therefore, 118wrote on January 22, 1538, to Sir Thomas Wyat, his ambassador in Spain, ordering him to suggest the marriage to the Emperor, who in his reply, sent through his representative in London, Eustace Chapuys, declared that he would be glad to treat of it. Henry, who naturally wished to see the lady, if possible, before committing himself too far, began to throw out suggestions that she should be brought to Calais, in order that he might make her acquaintance, but this proposal was displeasing to the other parties concerned; and so, as the next best thing, it was determined to obtain her portrait. Hutton was instructed to procure one if he possibly could, and he wrote to Cromwell on February 21, describing a dinner-party he had attended given by the “Ladie Marqueis of Barrough,” at which she promised to show him, when finished, a portrait for which the Duchess of Milan was sitting, and for the purpose of which she had put off her mourning dress. This picture, apparently, was to be given to the Lady Marquis. He told Cromwell:

“The Lady Marqueis demaundid of me, yff the letters, wiche I had delyverid the Queyn, cam from the Kynges Highnes my master. Unto wiche I made answar that the cam frome the Empror. Then she said that when she sawe me delyver them, hir hart rejoissid, thynkyng ther had byne some good newis consarnyng the Duches of Myllain, of whom she made great preis, as well for hir beawtie, favor, wisdom, as for hir myche gentilnes. All wiche saynges I affirmyd. Withe that she said, yf I had seyn hir owt of hir mornyng aparell, so gorgeosly as she had seyn hir the day beffore, I wold have marveillid, for she said, to tell me in secret, she cawssid hir pikture to be made, wiche beyng fenisshed, the Duches had promissid to give it unto hir, soo that she of hir owen motion said, assone as it cam to hir handes I shuld have a sight therof.”[258]

He goes on to describe an interview with the Duchess on the following day, in which she complained of the rain, telling Hutton, “This wether likythe not the Queyn, for She is therby pynnyd upp, that She cannot ride abrode to hunt. Then I demandid if Hir Grace did not love huntyng. She answered, ‘Non better,’ and soo pawssid.

“She spekithe French, and semythe to be of fewe wordes. In hir spekyng she lispithe, wiche dothe nothyng mysbecom hir. I 119canot in anny thyng perceve, but she shuldbe off myche sobreness, and very wisse and no les gentill. It may pleis your Lordship to consedar that my poore knowlege is not to give anny judgement in suche matters, but only to showe my openyon. And for that it wilbe yet theis 8th dais, beffore I can com by hir pikture, I thought it my duetie to sartiffie your Lordshipe the premissis; and incontinent the said pikture shall com to my handes, it shalbe sent your Lordshipe with spedy deligence. Advertissyng the Lady Marques that I did send it unto Barough, for that my wiffe had myche dessire to se the Duches.”[259]

Matters seemed now to be progressing so favourably that it was decided to send over Philip Hoby to Brussels, with some show of secrecy, for the purpose of a personal interview with the young lady, and, as Henry was very anxious to obtain an accurate likeness of her, it was also arranged that Holbein should go with him, without waiting for the portrait which Hutton hoped to secure.

Philip Hoby, who was born in 1505, was the son of William Hoby, of Leominster. His zeal for the Reformation commended him to Henry VIII and Cromwell, by whom he was constantly employed from 1538 onwards in diplomatic services at the courts of Spain and Portugal, and on special missions elsewhere. He was one of the gentlemen ushers of the King’s Privy Chamber, and took part in the siege of Boulogne, being rewarded with knighthood immediately after the conquest of that town in the autumn of 1544. He was made Master of the Ordnance and admitted to the Privy Council in 1552, and died in 1558. From his correspondence he appears to have been a man of culture and refinement. Holbein made two, if not three, journeys abroad in his company, and painted his portrait, though its whereabouts is not now known, but the drawing for it, in which he is shown with a scanty beard and long thin moustache, is in the Windsor Collection.[260]

Cromwell’s instructions to Hoby were as follows:

“Instructions given by the L. Cromwell to Philip Hoby sent over by him to the duchess of Lorraine then [to the] duchess of Milan.

“To repair to Mr. Hutton and tarry secretly at his lodging until he shall have been with the Regent. Then upon Hutton’s advertisement 120to go to the Duchess, present Cromwell’s commendations and say that no doubt she had heard from the Lady Regent and by the relation of the King’s ambassador there, the cause of his coming and Cromwell’s inclination to the advancement of the same as is declared ‘in the letter.’ He shall then beg her to take the pain to sit that a servant of the King, who is come thither for that purpose, may take her physiognomy; and shall ask when Mr. Hanns shall come to her to do so. The said Philip shall as of himself express a wish that both for my Lord’s reports of her virtues and for his own view of them, it might please the King, being now without a wife, to advance her to the honour of a queen of England. ‘And he shall well note her answers, her gesture and countenance with her inclination, that he may at his return declare the same to the King’s Majesty.’ Her picture taken, he and Hanns shall return immediately.”[261] Hoby was also supplied with a second document, in which all that he was to say to the Duchess was carefully drawn up for his guidance.

In the heading to these instructions, which is written in a later hand than the body of the document, the words “to the” in square brackets have been inserted by the editor of the Calendars of Letters and Papers, &c. In doing this he has been misled by a very similar set of instructions issued to Hoby on the eve of a mission to Lorraine in August of the same year, which is dealt with in the next chapter. He thus reads the heading as indicating that Hoby was to go first of all to the Duchess of Lorraine and afterwards to the Duchess of Milan, and that the one set of instructions was to serve for the two visits. The inserted words, “to the,” however, are not needed. Christina, a few years after Holbein painted her, married, in 1540, François, Duke of Bar and Lorraine, and the writer who added the heading to the copy of Hoby’s instructions quite correctly describes her as the Duchess of Lorraine, “then (or “at that time,” i.e. at the time of Hoby’s journey to Brussels) Duchess of Milan.” This is a small point, but it is necessary to draw attention to it, as it has to do with Holbein’s subsequent journey to Upper Burgundy.

The two travellers left London on the 2nd or 3rd of March, and reached Brussels on the evening of the 10th. The next day was spent in preliminary interviews, Hutton having audience with the Lady Regent and the Duchess in the morning, and Hoby delivering 121his message to the latter in the afternoon. All going smoothly, Holbein was fetched to the court at one o’clock on the 12th, and accomplished all that he had to do within three hours, to the great admiration of Hutton, who considered that he showed himself to be a master, and that the likeness was very perfect. The English agent, the day before their arrival, had already despatched a portrait of the lady to London—in all probability the one promised him by the Lady Marquis—but after seeing Holbein’s beautiful drawing, he sent a messenger post haste to stop the bearer of the first picture, which he now regarded as but “slobbered” in comparison with the other. Hoby and Holbein, who started upon their homeward journey on the evening of the 12th, appear to have taken this inferior picture with them, so that Cromwell might compare the two. There is no evidence to indicate by whom it was painted, but as the lady was represented in gay apparel, it must have been in marked contrast to Holbein’s study and the full-length portrait he afterwards painted, representing her in her Italian widow’s weeds. It is possible that this picture is still in existence in England, and its discovery would be most interesting.

Hutton’s letter to Cromwell, describing all that took place on the occasion, is a long one, but as it is one of the few important documents still existing in which Holbein is mentioned by name, it cannot well be omitted here. It is dated March 14, 1538, and runs as follows:

“My moste bounden duetie remembered unto Your good Lordshipe. Pleasithe the same to be advertissid, that the 10th of this present monethe in the evenyng arivid here your Lordshipis sarvand Phillip Hobbie, acompenied with a sarvand of the Kynges Majesties namyd Mr Haunce, by wiche Phillip I recevyd your Lordshippis letter, beryng date at Saynct Jamys the second day of this present. Theffect wherof apercevyd, havyng the day beffore sent wone of my sarvandes towardes youre Lordshipe withe a picture of the Duches of Myllain, I thought it very nessisarie to stey the same, for that in my openion it was not soo perffight as the cawsse requyrid, neyther as the said Mr Haunce coold make it. Uppon wiche determination I dispached another of my sarvandes, in post, to returne the same, wiche your Lordshipe shall receve by this berrar. The next mornyng 122aftre the arivall of your Lordshippis said sarvand, I did adresse my selff unto the Lady Regent, declaryng unto Hir that the night past ther arivid at my lodgyng a sarvand of your Lordshippis, withe wone other of the Kynges Majesties; by wiche your Lordshippis sarvand I had recevyd commiscion to sartiffie Hir Grace that thEmprors Ambassadors, resident with the Kynges Majestie my master, had made ernyst overture unto your Lordshipe for a marriage to be treatid betwixt the Majestie of my said master, and the Duches Grace of Millain. To the wiche albeit your Lordshipe was of no les good inclination for the furtherance of the same, then the said Ambassadors were, yet your Lordshipe thought it not exspedient to be broken unto the Kynges Highnes, withowt havyng some further occation mynistrid for the openyng of the same. And for as myche as your Lordshipe had hard great commendation of the furme, beawtie, wisdom, and other verteos qualiteis, the wiche God had indewid the said Duches with, you cold perceve no mean more meit for the advauncement of the same, than to procure her perffight pictur; for wiche your Lordshipe had sent, in compeny of your said sarvand, a man very excellent in makyng off phisanymies; soo that your Lordshippis desire was that your said sarvand myght in moste humbleist wisse salute the Duches Grace, requyryng that hir pleisur might be to apoynt the tyme and place, wher the said paynter might acomplische his charge. The Regent, when I began to declare this forsaid purpos, stud uppon hir feit; but, aftre She had a littill ynclyng to what effect the same wold com, She did sit dowen, not movyng, till I had fenisshid all that I had to say, and then answered as foloythe: ‘I thanke yow for your good newis. This is not the first report that I have had of the good inclination that the Lord Crumwell hathe to thEmprores afferris, for recompence wheroff I trust he shall not fynd Us ingrat. And as to his desire in this behalff, it shall gladly be accomplisshid.’ Then I said, ‘Madam, I have yet further commiscion, wiche is to sartiffie the same unto the Duches Grace.’ Hir answar was, that She wold goo to Councell, and when the Duches cam to hir oratorie, I myght [have] very good oportunitie to talke withe hir. Withe that the Regent departid towardes the Councell Chamber, and I taried the Duches commyng; who beying com to hir oratorie, wher as remenyd no moo but two of hir ladeis, I sartiffied Hir Grace the woll effect of your Lordshippis commission consarnyng Phelipe Hobbie, whom, when 123Hir Grace wold give awdiens, wold more ample sartiffie your Lordshippis pleisur. She made answar that, if ever it shuld ly in hir powar, the good will of your Lordshipe shoid towardes hir, wiche she in no part had desarvid, shuld not remeyn unrecompencesid; and that as to your said request it was not to be denyed, albeit that she, beying ther withe the Queyn hir awnt, thought it not meit to make anny graunt therunto withowt hir consent, wiche she wold move to obteyn at the first convenient leisar, that she myght have with the Queyn consarnyng the same. Commandyng to be called unto hir wone, naymd the Lord Benedike Court, who next unto Monsur de Correra is cheiff about hir; whoo beyng com, she said unto hym, ‘Goo withe thAmbassadour and entarteyn a gentilman that is at his lodgyng, and knowe wher you shall fynd hym at suche tyme as I shall send yow for hym.’ This done, wee tooke ower leve of Hir Grace, and cam to my lodgyng, wher the said Lord salutid Phillip Hobbie, communyng together in the Italian tunge a sarten space, and then tooke his leve to repaire agayn to the Court; wiche I percevyng, requyrid hym to take the portion withe us at dynnar, wiche he promissid to doo; but aftre beyng otherweis myndid, he sent us woord that he cold not com, but wold see us aftre dynnar; wiche apoyntment he kept. For at two of the cloke in the aftrenoon he cam for Phillipe to com speke withe the Duches his mystres: who can make relation to your Lordshipe more at large what passid at the tyme. The next day foloyng, at wone of the cloke in the aftrenoon, the said Lord Benedike cam for Mr. Haunce; who havyng but thre owers space hathe shoid hym self to be master of that siens, for it is very perffight; the other is but sloberid in comparison to it, as by the sight of bothe your Lordshipe shall well aperceve. The same night Phillipe tooke his leve of the Duches. I inffurmyd the Lady Regent that the said Phillipe wold gladly, accordyng to your Lordshippis commandment, have com to have done his duetie unto Hir, to have knowen what further sarvis Hir Grace wold commaund hym; but dowttyng he should be notid, wherby myght be discoverid that wiche till then was kept secret as coldbe. She answarid that it shuld not neid, reqwiring me, that I wold make hir most effectios commendations, by my letters, unto your Lordshipe, and that yow shuld here frome Hir more at large by thEmprors Ambassadour resident with the Kynges Majestie. To sartiffie your Lordship of hir sobreness, wisdom, and other varteos 124qualities shulde be but superfluitie, for this berrar can sartiffie your Lordshipe therof at length.”[262]

The Queen Regent wrote to Eustace Chapuys in London, directly after Hoby’s departure, saying that: “I deem it opportune to acquaint you with a fact, of which you are not perhaps aware, namely, that Sieur Cromwell has sent here expressly a man, besides a message by ambassador Hauton, to the effect that the Emperor had proposed to the King, his master, the marriage of my niece, the dowager duchess of Milan, with honourable and advantageous conditions; that he (the Emperor) offers to help efficiently towards it, and wishes it to take place before King Francis becomes aware of it. Cromwell asks that the man be allowed to see and talk with my said niece, and take her portrait in order to show it to the King and give him greater desire to see her. This I have allowed, and the man has actually returned to England with the portrait, well satisfied with the personal appearance and manners of my said niece, who has not failed on the occasion to thank Cromwell for his offers and show of affection.”[263]

From Chapuys’ reply to her, dated March 23, we learn that Hoby and Holbein reached London on March 18, and that the King was delighted with the latter’s handiwork. He tells her:

“On the very same day, the 18th, the painter sent by this King to Flanders came back with the Duchess’ likeness, which, I am told, has singularly pleased the King, so much so, that since he saw it he has been in much better humor than he ever was, making musicians play on their instruments all day long. Two days after he went to dine at a splendid house of his, where he had collected all his musicians, and, after giving orders for the erection of certain sumptuous buildings therein, returned home by water, surrounded by musicians, and went straight to visit the duchess of Suffocq, the mother-in-law of the duke of Norfolk, and the wife of his brother, and ever since cannot be one single moment without masks, which is a sign he purposes to marry again, unless he does all that by way of dissimulation whilst the bishop of Tarbes is here still.”[264]

For the cost of this journey Hoby received £23, 6s. 8d. from the 125royal purse, which is noted in the book of the King’s household expenses for March 1538. “Item paid to Philip Hoby by the kinges commandment certifyed by my lord privy seal lettre for his coste and expences sent in all possible diligence for the kinge affaires in the parties of beyonde the See. xxiij li. vjs. viijd.”[265]

No doubt the portrait which so delighted the King was one of those masterly studies in black chalk touched with colour, such as the “John Godsalve” among the Windsor drawings, from which Holbein afterwards painted the magnificent full-length now in the National Gallery. He could not have done much more than this in the three hours which was the whole time allowed him for the sitting. Sir Claude Phillips, however, is of opinion that it must have been something more than a drawing, however consummate—perhaps a finished sketch of the head only in oils. “It is difficult to believe,” he says, “that a layman would express so enthusiastic an approval of a drawing of modest dimensions, and (if it followed the usual Windsor type) of modest aspect. Neither sketch, however, nor drawing is known to exist.”[266]

It was suggested by the late Sir George Scharf, F.S.A., that the small oil panel, showing the Duchess to the waist, which is practically a replica of the upper half of the National Gallery picture, is the original study made by Holbein in Brussels. This portrait, then unnamed, he discovered in 1863, in a small apartment in Windsor Castle, and it was described by him in a paper read before the Society of Antiquaries, and published in Archæologia, with a good lithograph of the picture by T. H. Maguire.[267] It is on wood, 17 in. high by 13 in. wide.

“The picture by Holbein,” says Sir George, “could only have been a drawing or a painting on rather a small scale, inasmuch as it had at once to be conveyed by a messenger to England, and one of the objects of Hutton’s letter was to show the diligence with which the King’s commands were executed and to announce the coming of the picture. The scale and workmanship of the picture before us are exactly such as might have been expected from a first-rate painter and tactician under such circumstances. All essential points are 126observed with scrupulous fidelity, and, certainly, as far as internal evidence extends, without flattery. It is not to be supposed that Holbein did nothing to the picture beyond the term of the three hours’ sitting afforded by the Duchess. Having secured all the essential points of likeness, and given the general colouring, he doubtless spent some time in further finishings from memory. But time must have been given for the picture to dry.”

Wornum, however, refuses to accept Sir George’s ascription. “The head is vigorously painted,” he says, “and very natural; it shows, however, no complete finish, which, if the picture referred to, is exactly what one would expect; but it lacks also the mastery one would expect to find in a free sketch by Holbein. The hands are inferior, but they appear to have been partly repainted; the background has also been entirely repainted.... In its present state, it looks much more like a clever study from the Arundel picture, than its pattern; anyhow the distance between them is immense, but this does not prove much, for a very inferior master to Holbein could elaborate a magical effect from a mere rough sketch, provided this possessed the real germs of truth in it.”[268]

Woltmann, too, was of opinion that this small panel was not an original work by Holbein. “We cannot find in the picture at Windsor,” he says “that freedom and bold masterly style which absolutely belong to a sketch from life, and which alone could have excited such lively admiration in John Hutton. The picture at Windsor is very pretty and graceful, but has something almost sober in its treatment. It can indeed be just as little a copy from the large painting. It exhibits some differences in the costume, for instance, a somewhat larger fur collar, and another position of the fingers, although the characteristic attitude of the hands is essentially the same. Christina also wears three rings instead of a single one; namely, a black widow’s ring on the little finger of the right hand, and on the next finger a gold hoop with a square black stone. We might, therefore, believe that this is a copy by another hand of the sketch Holbein painted from life. In favour of this opinion, we find the head, which the sketch naturally gave most distinctly, by far the best part of the painting, while the rest, which was only indicated in the sketch, appears far weaker.”[269]

Sir George Scharf describes with care the many small differences 127between the two works. In addition to the three rings instead of one, mentioned by Woltmann, the fur of the dress in the smaller picture is much deeper and has every appearance of being a wide fur collar separate from and placed over the black dress. In the larger portrait the fur is much narrower, and evidently forms the lining and collar of the outer robe, a narrow edging of it being shown down the front. In the National Gallery picture, too, this outer robe is open several inches in front, showing the under-dress of black and the knotted ribbon at the waist, all of which are missing in the Windsor panel. Again, though the hands holding the gloves have the same general position in both, the position of the fingers shows considerable variation. In the smaller portrait the two last fingers of the right hand and the two middle ones of the left are bent inwards; in the larger, the only bent fingers are the two last of the left hand. There are some other minor differences which need not be specified.

Both pictures at one time belonged to Henry VIII, and are included in the inventory of that King’s “money, jewels, plate, utensils, apparel, wardrobe stuffs, goods and chattels, consigned to the care of Sir Anthony Denny at Westminster.” The volume, now in the Record Office, is dated April 24, 1542. They appear again in a similar inventory, made after Henry’s death, taken “by vertue of a Commission under the greate seale of England, bearing date at Westminster the viij day of September, in the first year of our Sovereyne Lord Edwarde the Sixte” (1547). In these, the smaller panel is described as “Item, a Table with a Picture of the Duchesse of Myllayne.”

Woltmann’s conjecture that it is a contemporary copy made from Holbein’s original sketch appears to be the true one, though for whom made it is now impossible to say. There seems to be no reason why Henry, having the full-length panel in his possession, should have commissioned this smaller and inferior one. If ordered by Thomas Cromwell, which is not very likely, it may have reached the King in the form of plunder after the former’s execution; if done in order to be sent to the Duchess herself, it is strange that it should have remained in England. In any case, it cannot have been the “slobbered” work which Hutton, in his eagerness to serve his royal master, had hurriedly despatched on its way to London on the eve of Holbein’s arrival in Brussels. All the evidence points to the latter as being the portrait of the Duchess “out of her mourning apparel” which was 128to be given to the Lady Marquess, who had promised to show it to Hutton when finished, as his letter tells us. Hutton, pleading urgency, and knowing that the latter lady was in favour of the match, in all probability borrowed it, or begged it as a gift.

This portrait of the Duchess of Milan,[270] 70 in. by 32 in. (Pl. 21), is incomparably the greatest work from Holbein’s brush now remaining in England; it is, indeed, in many respects his masterpiece. It is of additional interest and value, too, as being the only full-length, life-size portrait of a lady painted by him. She is represented standing, facing and looking towards the spectator, her hands in front of her holding her gloves. She is dressed in mourning apparel as the widow of Sforza, a gown of plain black satin tied round the waist with a black cord, and a long black cloak reaching to her feet, lined with yellow sable, with a collar of the same fur, open in the front sufficiently to allow a part of her dress to be seen. At her neck and wrists are white frills with a narrow black edging, and on her head a closely-fitting black cap, which covers all her hair, and a part of her forehead. The gloves are pale buff, and her only ornament is a gold ring with a red stone, probably a cornelian, on the third finger of her left hand. The floor on which she stands is of pale yellow-brown colour, though no floor-boards are indicated, and the background is a plain one of deep blue, now almost black, only broken by the white cartellino over the sitter’s left shoulder, which is affixed to the wall with four dabs of red sealing-wax.

Vol. II., Plate 21
THE DUCHESS OF MILAN
1538
National Gallery, London

Holbein made the choice of a true artist in thus depicting her in her widow’s weeds instead of in all the bravery of the court dress which she was again beginning to assume. The effect of fine rich colour produced by this wonderful rendering of a plain black costume is masterly, but in no way detracts the attention of the spectator from the grace of the slender form and the vitality and subtle expression of the face, as more elaborate accessories might have done. The whole panel is painted with the utmost simplicity and directness, and yet is stamped with real grandeur of style in every delicate stroke of the brush. The modelling of the flesh is rendered with extraordinary delicacy, while the tints are unusually transparent, and a faint rosy glow of health just flushes her cheeks. Her dark-brown eyes, from under fair eyebrows, look out upon the world with an intensity of 129expression which is surpassed in few, if any, portraits by the greatest masters; the red lips are full of character, but not more so than the hands, which are exquisitely painted. In the painting of hands Holbein was always a master, but he never accomplished anything finer in this direction than those of the young Duchess. The portrait, indeed, bears the stamp of truth in every line. The painter, who never exaggerated, has made no attempt to add to the lady’s beauty; such as she was he painted her. The draperies are admirably arranged, and the painting of fur and satin as good as anything Holbein ever did, even in such portraits as that of Gisze. The restrained but stately attitude of the young girl, still only on the threshold of womanhood, the refined, reserved, and dignified character in the fresh young face, which, though gentle, is in no way lacking in strength, and the sense of humour lurking in the lips, combine to produce an effect which is fascinating in the highest degree; indeed, in the simplicity of its methods, the strength, refinement, and elegance of its conception, and in its extraordinary vitality, it must always remain not only Holbein’s masterpiece in the portraiture of women, but one of the greatest portraits in the world.

There is no doubt that Holbein painted the portrait immediately after his return from Brussels, although some writers have suggested that it is a year or so later in date than 1538. This conclusion is based largely on the supposition that Holbein’s visit to High Burgundy later in the same year was for the purpose of obtaining further sittings from the Duchess; but this is an error, as will be shown in the next chapter. The portrait was painted for Henry, and would naturally be done at once, before the negotiations for the marriage were broken off, and it remained in his collection throughout his life. Holbein was out of England more often and for a longer period in 1538 than has been generally supposed. In addition to at least one other continental journey on the King’s service, he was absent from about the middle of August until nearly Christmas, and thus everything indicates that this important panel was painted in April or May.

Another argument, advanced by Sir George Scharf in favour of the contention that it was painted some time after 1538, is that the name and titles of the lady written on the fictitious piece of paper attached to the dark background near to her left shoulder, by four dabs of sealing-wax, designate her “Duchess of Lorraine.” This 130inscription Sir George reads as: “Christine, Daughter to Christierne K. of Deñarke, and Dutchess of Lotragne and heretofore (?) Dutches of Milan.” The writing, however, is much rubbed, and is by no means easy to decipher; thus the word which Sir George read as “heretofore,” Mr. Wornum considered to be “hered” (hereditary). “This,” Sir George goes on to say, “would, if the writing be contemporary with the picture, bring the date to 1541, the year of her second marriage to Francis, Duke of Lorraine and Barr. The style of writing on the paper may perhaps raise some question, and may possibly be found to belong to the period of James I, when through his Queen and the occasional presence of Christian IV in England, a considerable interest was felt in matters connected with Denmark.”[271]

The inscription as it now is was probably painted over an earlier one from Holbein’s brush, for it is too badly done to be original; but there is no need to place it as late as Sir George suggests, for the Lumley inventory speaks of her as the Duchess of Lorraine, so that the alteration may have been due to Lord Lumley or his father-in-law. It is even possible that Holbein may have placed no title of any kind on the picture, but that the whole label was added by some other painter employed for the purpose by the owner of Nonsuch.

In spite of Henry’s admiration for the picture, the proposed match came to nothing, though for some time Hutton continued to write letters in her praises. Thus, on the 1st April 1538, he wrote to the King:

“Pleasithe Your Majestie to be advertissid that synns the departyng frome hence of Phillipe Hobbie, I have for the most part byne dayly in the Queyns chambre, by cawse I myght withe the more commoditie aperceve, whether the great modestiosnes, that is in the Duches of Myllayn, proceid of a symple yngnorance, or of a naturall inclination acompenid withe wisdom; to that intent I myght the better sartiffie Your Highnes of the same. Wherunto I have inployid my selff withe all celeritie, havyng bothe seyn and hard hir, aswell in matters off weight, as playing at the cardes and other pastymys, not apercevyng in hir anny liklihod that ther is want off wit, but rather to be estemyd, emonge the nombre of wise, the wissist. Hir sobre and gentill demenewre is myche lawdid by all them that knowe hir. 131Soo that I take it to be above the compas off a womans wit to dissemble longe withe that is graven in the hart to the contrary, but I noot that in all hir acttes she uttrithe such a myldnes, the wiche maniffestithe to be wroght in hir by nature, and presarvid withe grace and wisdom.”[272]

In the following month (May 17) he informed Wriothesley that “the Lady Regent, acompenyd with the Duches Grace of Myllayn have byne dayly a huntyng, wiche is the exarsis, that the bothe moste desyre, and have greatest delit in; and by cawsse I have thought it my bounden duetie to repayre wher the Duches Grace was, procuryng occation many tymis to talke withe Hyr Grace, whom I fynd of myche wisdom, and of as great modestiosnes, as ever I knewe anny woman. Sithe the tyme that Phelip Hobbie departid frome theis parteis, Hir Grace hathe, bothe by woordes and countenance, ussid towardes me myche benyngnitie.”[273]

He added that he had presented the Regent with four couple of young hounds and an ambling gelding, and had promised the same to the Duchess, “wiche offre she gently acceptyd.”

Early in June an obstacle to the match was suggested which proved that the Emperor and his sister were only using the Duchess as a pawn on the political chess-board, and that there was no real intention of giving her to Henry. This obstacle was the fact that the Duchess was a near kinswoman of the late Queen Katherine, Henry’s first wife, and that the Pope’s dispensation was therefore necessary. The negotiations dragged on throughout the year, Hutton suddenly dying in the middle of them, on September 5, just when the King his master was sending over two commissioners, Thomas Wriothesley, one of his secretaries, and Stephen Vaughan, to treat personally with the Regent. There is no need to record their adventures, or the manner in which that lady continually put them off with plausible excuses. They followed her about the country on her journey to Compiègne to meet the King and Queen of France. On neither side was there any real sincerity, but the Englishmen, although Dr. Edward Carne[274] was sent over to help them, could not score a point in the game. They had several personal interviews with the Duchess, after one of which they 132reported that “she is a godly personage, of stature hiegher thenne eyther of us, a very good womans face, and competently faire, but very wel favored, a lytle browne.”[275]

After another interview Wriothesley wrote to the King, on February 1, 1539:

“A blinde man shuld judge no colours, but surely, Sir, after my poure entendement, for that lyttel experyence that I have, she is mervelous wise, very gentel, and as shamfast as ever I sawe soo wittye a woman. I thinke her wisdome no lesse thenne the Quenes, which in my pouer opinion is notable for a woman. Her gentlenes excedeth. Asferre as I canne judge or here for this lytel tyme that I have been here, I am deceyved, if she prove not a good wief, if God send her a wise husbande; and sumwhat the better I lyke her, for that I have been enformed that of all the hole stock of them, her mother (Isabella, sister of Charles V) was of best opinion in religion, and shewed it soo farre, that bothe thEmperour and al the pack of them were sore greved with Her, and seamed in thende to have Her in contempte. I wolde hope no lesse of the doughter, if she might be so happye as to nestle in Englande. Very pure, faire of colour she is not, but a mervelous good brownishe face she bathe, with faire redd lippes, and ruddy chekes; and oneles I be deceyved in my judgement, which in all thinges, but specially in this kynde of judgement, is very basse, she was yet never soo wel paynted, but her lyvely visage dothe muche excel her poincture.”

Later on in the same interview Wriothesley pressed her as to her own desire in the matter, and sang his master’s praises:

“At this she blusshed excedingly, and said: ‘Asfor myn inclination,’ quod she, ‘what shuld I saye? You knowe that I am at thEmperrurs commaundement,’ and again, ‘You knowe I am thEmperours poore servaunt, and must followe his pleasour.’ Your Majesties wisedom shall easly judge uppon this, of what inclination the women be, and specially the Duchesse, whose honest countenaunce, with the fewe woordes that she wisely spake, together with that which I knowe by the meane of her most secrete chamberers and servauntes, maketh me to thinke there canne be no doubt in her.”[276]

133This letter seems to indicate that there is no truth in the well-known story told by Sandrart, and repeated by Walpole, that the Duchess herself was not anxious to become Queen of England, telling Henry’s ambassadors that “she had but one head; if she had two, one of them should be at his Majesty’s service.” On the contrary, Carne and his fellow-commissioners frequently mentioned that she seemed bent on the alliance, and could not bear to hear of any other marriage proposals. Among the frequenters of the English court it was common gossip that she was very likely to be the next queen. Thus, Robert Warner, of the Earl of Sussex’s household, writing to Lord Fitzwater on November 21, 1538, tells him that “there is small speaking of any queen; merely a report that it should be the duchess of Milan. In any case it will be an outlandish woman and will not happen till the spring.”[277] There was also a report that the King had sent her a diamond worth 16,000 ducats.

Early in 1539 Francis and Charles V were in full accord, and Henry was making every possible preparation for war. The Regent and the Emperor no longer attempted to keep up the farce of a possible matrimonial alliance with England, though even then Wriothesley was writing for Henry’s “phisnamy,” which he thought would make the Duchess leave Emperor and all rather than be frustrated of so great a match. In the end the three ambassadors departed for home on March 19, though not without some trouble, as war appeared imminent; and thus Holbein’s famous portrait remained as the only record in Henry’s possession of these long and futile negotiations.

The picture has never left England since the day it was painted. It was in the possession of Henry VIII at the time of his death, and is described in the inventory already mentioned, in which it is the twelfth entry, as—“Item, a greate table with the picture of the Duchyes of Myllayne, beinge her whole stature.” According to Mr. Lionel Cust,[278] it passed from King Henry’s collection to that of the King’s cousin, Henry Fitz-Alan, Earl of Arundel, after whose death it belonged to his son-in-law, John, Lord Lumley, husband of the Earl’s eldest daughter and co-heiress, Lady Joan Fitz-Alan. It is included in the manuscript inventory of pictures and other objects of art belonging to Lord Lumley in the reign of Queen Elizabeth already 134mentioned more than once. This inventory is entitled “A Certyficate from Mr. John Lampton, Stewarde of Howseholde to John, Lord Lumley, of all his Lo: Monumentes of Marbles, Pictures and tables in Paynture, with other his Lordshippes Howseholde stuffe, and Regester of Bookes. Anno 1590.” The picture is described as “The statuary of the Duchess of Myllayne, afterwards Duches of Lorreyn daughter to Christierne King of Denmarke doone by Haunce Holbyn,” the word “statuary” being used for a standing whole-length figure.

Against the contention that the picture passed directly from Henry’s collection into the possession of the Earl of Arundel must be placed Carel van Mander’s statement that in 1574 Zuccaro saw it in the Earl of Pembroke’s house in London. “The said Zucchero,” he says, “was also delighted with the portrait of a certain Countess, dressed in black satin, life-size, a full-length figure, unusually pretty and well painted by Holbein, and kept in Lord Pembroke’s house, where he saw it in company with some painters and lovers of art, and took such great delight in it, that he declared he had not seen its like in art and delicacy even in Rome; therefore went away filled with admiration.”[279]

Van Mander’s book was not published until 1604, thirty years later than this incident, and it is, of course, quite possible that either he or Zuccaro made a mistake as to the ownership of the picture and the place where it had been seen; but the statement is very definite, and must be taken into consideration in tracing the portrait’s history. In any case, there is no doubt that Lord Lumley owned it in 1590, and that he was a lover of Holbein’s works, of which he possessed a considerable number, most of which have been referred to individually in preceding pages, among them the great cartoon of Henry VII and Henry VIII belonging to the Duke of Devonshire, and portraits of Erasmus, Sir Thomas More, and Sir Henry and Lady Guideford, and the book of the Windsor drawings, all of which are entered in the inventory as “drawne” or “doone” by “Haunce Holbyn.” In Lord Lumley’s collection were also portraits of Sir Nicholas Carew, Sir Thomas Lovell, the elder and the younger Sir Thomas Wyat, and Sir Thomas Hennege, some of which also may well have been by Holbein, though no artist’s name is placed against them in the list.

135For many years Lord Lumley resided at Nonsuch. The erection of this palace was begun by Henry VIII in the year in which the Duchess was painted. The house, of which Toto was probably the chief architect or decorator,[280] was unfinished at the King’s death, and remained so during the reign of Edward VI; but in that of Mary it was completed by the Earl of Arundel, who had become possessed of it, “after the first intent and meaning of the said King his old maister.” Here Lord Lumley resided with his wife and father-in-law until the Earl’s death in 1580, when he became its owner. He added the front quadrangle, and entertained Queen Elizabeth there on more than one occasion. From his hands it reverted to the Crown in 1591 in exchange for other property. No doubt Lord Lumley’s collection of pictures remained at Nonsuch until that year, and very possibly the inventory, dated 1590, was drawn up in preparation for the removal of the works of art when this transfer of estates took place.[281]

Upon the death of Lord Lumley without issue, it is evident that the picture passed, with other portraits of the Fitz-Alan family, into the possession of Philip Howard, Earl of Arundel, son of Thomas, fourth Duke of Norfolk, and Lady Mary Fitz-Alan, younger daughter and co-heiress of Henry, Earl of Arundel. Philip Howard was father of Thomas Howard, Earl of Arundel, probably the greatest art-collector the world has ever known. When in the latter’s possession it was seen by Sandrart, in 1627, who mentions it as the portrait of the King’s “incomparable beloved one, a princess of Lorraine” (unvergleichlicher Liebstin, einer Prinzessin von Lothringen). It was entered in the Arundel inventory of 1655 as “Duchessa de Lorena grande del naturale.”

From that time until 1909 it remained in the possession of the Howard family. Walpole adds to his Anecdotes a note to the effect that “Vertue saw a whole length of this princess at Mr. Howard’s, in Soho Square.”[282] It was afterwards at Worksop Manor, then belonging to the Duke of Norfolk, and later on was removed to Arundel Castle, where it was described in the catalogue as “a very curious portrait of a Duchess of Milan.” It was included in the exhibition of Old Masters at Burlington House in 1880, and the Duke of Norfolk 136then lent it to the National Gallery, where it remained on loan for nearly thirty years. About 1908 the Duke informed the Trustees that he was receiving large offers for the picture, which he felt bound to consider, but that he was most anxious that, if possible, it should be secured for the nation; and he, therefore, gave an undertaking that before closing with any purchaser he would first offer it to the Gallery at the same price.

On April 22, 1909, his Grace told the authorities that he had been offered a sum of £61,000, which he had accepted, subject to the option granted to the National Gallery of purchasing at the same price, and that the purchasers had consented to wait until May 1 for the completion of the transaction. As the Trustees were unable to find so great a sum in so short a time, the Duke sold the picture to Messrs. P. & D. Colnaghi & Co. for £61,000 on the latter date. The purchasers then in turn offered it first of all to the nation, at the enhanced price of £72,000, giving the Trustees a month in which to raise the necessary fund. A determined effort to secure the picture was then made by the chairman, Lord Balcarres, and committee of the National Art-Collections Fund, but in spite of strenuous endeavours, the amount subscribed up to within a few days of the expiration of the time-limit fell far short of the great sum required. Most happily, however, at the last moment a munificent anonymous donor came forward with a gift of £40,000, which, with £10,000 from the Government, and other subscriptions, including one from the vendors, enabled the Fund to complete the purchase, and thus this great picture, undoubtedly the finest portrait Holbein ever painted, for which more than one millionaire collector was prepared to give an even greater price for its possession, was saved for the English nation, and has at last found a permanent home in the National Gallery.

It is interesting to note that this Duchess of Milan is identical with the little dark-eyed girl wearing a peculiar hood in the well-known picture of the three children of the King of Denmark by Mabuse, in the English Royal Collection, now in Hampton Court. This picture was engraved by Vertue in 1748, and was removed at that date from Kensington Palace to Windsor. It was thought at that time—possibly the mistake was Vertue’s—to represent the three children of Henry VII, Prince Arthur, Prince Henry, and Princess Margaret, though in 137Henry VIII’s catalogue they were correctly named as the “three children of the Kynge of Denmarke.” The whole matter was cleared up by Sir George Scharf in a paper read before the Society of Antiquaries in 1860, and printed in Archæologia.[283] The original picture appears to have been painted in the spring of 1526 at Malines, where Mabuse was then engaged, amid other work, in restoring pictures for the Lady Regent. From a letter from Sir Robert Wingfield to Wolsey, written from that city on the 14th March 1526, we learn that the young Prince of Denmark and his two sisters were then on a visit to their aunt, “which be right goodly and fair children, specially the daughters.”[284] A letter from the Emperor to the Archduke Ferdinand, of about the same date, also mentions this visit. “I am sorry to hear of the death of the Queen of Denmark. Her children are with my aunt in Flanders.”[285]

In Charles I’s catalogue this picture was attributed to Janet (“a Whitehall piece thought to be of Jennet”); and the earliest instance of its rightful ascription to Mabuse is in the Commonwealth inventory, among the pictures at St. James’s, where it is entered as: “Three children in one piece by Mabuse, sold to Mr. Grinder for £10, 23rd Oct. 1651.”

Sir George Scharf, comparing this juvenile likeness with the one painted by Holbein some thirteen years later, says: “The same features and expression of countenance, notwithstanding the difference of years, may be traced in both. The look of the eyes is quite the same, and I would also invite attention to the form of the upper eyelids which, especially in the Arundel picture, become remarkably broad on the side away from the nose.”[286] There are five or six replicas of the Mabuse picture in this country, at Wilton, Sudeley Castle, Longford Castle, Corsham House, and elsewhere. Other likenesses of the Duchess are to be found on existing medals both of Sforza and Lorraine, and in the fine engraving or etching of her by Agostino Carracci, published in Campo’s History of Cremona.

Negotiations for a French wife for the King—Marie of Lorraine, Duchess of Longueville, afterwards Queen of Scotland—Visit of Peter Mewtas to France to obtain her portrait—Pierre Quesnel—Louise of Guise—Holbein receives a royal licence to export beer—Hoby and Holbein sent to Havre to take portraits of Louise of Guise and some other lady—Renée of Guise—Expedition of Hoby and Holbein to Joinville and Nancy to obtain portraits of Renée and her cousin, Anne of Lorraine—Cromwell’s instructions—Letter from the Duchess of Guise to her daughter, the Queen of Scotland, describing their visit—Holbein’s salary and advances of his wages—Letter from Niklaus Kratzer to Cromwell—Confusion as to the dates of Hoby’s and Holbein’s continental journeys in 1538 owing to a wrong entry in the Calendar of Letters and Papers—Holbein goes on to Basel from Nancy.

AS already stated in the last chapter, during the whole of the time the negotiations for the hand of the Duchess of Milan were in progress, others were being carried on concurrently for a French bride for Henry. The King’s personal inclination, indeed, leant much more strongly towards an alliance with France than one with the Emperor; and on October 24th, the very day of Queen Jane Seymour’s death, Cromwell wrote to Stephen Gardiner and Lord William Howard, then at the French court, informing them of Henry’s loss, and urging them to make secret inquiries as to a possible successor among the princesses of France. “Our Prince,” he said, “our Lord be thanked, is in good health, and suckethe like a child of his puissance, which youe, my Lord William, canne declare. Our Mastres, thoroughe the faulte of them that were about Her, whiche suffred Her to take greate cold, and to eate things that her fantazie in syknes called for, is departed to God.”[288]

He went on to say that the Council were unanimously of opinion that the King should marry again as soon as possible:

“Soo considering what personages in Christendom be mete for Him, amonges the rest there be two in Fraunce, that may be thought 139on, thone is the Frenche Kinges doughter (Margaret, afterwards Duchess of Savoy), whiche, as it is said, is not the metest, the other is Madame de Longevile, whom they say the King of Scottes dothe desire. Of whose conditions and qualities in every pointe His Majeste desireth you both, with all your dexterite and good meanes, to enquire; and likewise in what pointe and termes the said King of Scottes standeth towards either of them; whiche His Highnes is soo desirous to knowe, His Graces desire therin to be nevertheles in any wise kept secret to your selfes.”

The details of the careful search which was made throughout France for a suitable successor to Jane Seymour are to be found in the very entertaining letters written by Louis de Perreau, Sieur de Castillon, the French ambassador in London, to Francis I and his Grand Master, Anne de Montmorency. The negotiations necessitated the despatch of numerous envoys and messengers, and the painting of four or five portraits; and there is very good evidence for the belief that two or three of these were painted by Holbein, for which purpose he made at least two journeys—to Le Havre in June 1538, and to Joinville and Nancy at the end of the following August.

In the first instance, Henry’s inclinations were very strongly set upon Marie of Lorraine, the eldest daughter of Claude, Duke of Guise, and the young widow of Charles d’Orléans, Duke of Longueville, although she had been promised to James V of Scotland before Jane Seymour’s death. Henry knew quite well that this arrangement had been made, but he would not listen to the names of other ladies which were suggested to him, and maintained with great pertinacity to Castillon that the match with Scotland had not yet been settled, and that Madame de Longueville had not herself agreed to it. “He is so amorous of Madame de Longueville,” wrote Castillon to Francis, on December 30, 1537, “that he cannot refrain from coming back upon it.” “I asked him,” he goes on, “who caused him to be more inclined to her than to others, and he said Wallop was so loud in her praises that nothing could exceed them. Moreover, he said that he was big in person, and had need of a big wife—that your daughter was too young for him, and as to Madame de Vendosme, he would not take the King of Scots’ leavings!”[289]

Either in December 1537 or early in the following January, Henry 140sent over Peter Mewtas, of the Privy Chamber, to see the Duchess secretly, and to find out from her whether she considered herself bound to James; and as a result of this mission he appears to have convinced himself that, whatever Francis I might have arranged, the lady herself and her parents were attracted by his offer, considering an alliance with so powerful a sovereign to be preferred to one with the “beggarly and stupid King of Scots,” as Henry termed his nephew to Castillon. There was a political attraction, also, about the proposal, from Henry’s point of view, for if he succeeded in taking James’s bride from him it would tend to alienate the Scots from France.

Formal articles of marriage, however, between the lady and James V were drawn up in January; but in spite of this Henry stuck to his point, and about the 1st of February Peter Mewtas was again despatched by Cromwell to find out definitely if she were still free, and also to obtain her portrait. The instructions given him need not be quoted here. They concluded by saying that if he perceived any towardness in the lady, he was, if possible, to get and bring with him “her picture truly made and like unto her.”[290]

Mewtas’ mission proved fruitless, and he was back in London some time before the 6th March. There is no evidence to show that he succeeded in obtaining a portrait of Madame de Longueville, or that he took Holbein or any other painter with him for that purpose. The Duchess seems to have been in Normandy, possibly at Longueville or Le Havre, and it may have been left to Mewtas to obtain the services of some local French painter, if such an one were to be procured. It is more likely, however, that a painter would be taken over for the purpose, though this was not mentioned in the instructions, as it was in the case of Hoby’s mission to Brussels. If any one were taken, it may have been Holbein, who was known personally to Mewtas, for among the Windsor drawings there is one of the latter’s wife.[291] This, however, is mere conjecture, and there is no evidence, either in writing or in the shape of a drawing, to show that Holbein took the portrait of this particular duchess; indeed, the fact of his journey to the Netherlands seems to point to the contrary, for Mewtas only returned to England from France early in March, so that if Holbein had accompanied him, he would have had to start off again 141without a moment’s delay with Hoby in order to reach Brussels as he did on the 10th of the same month. It was, of course, possible for him to have made both journeys, but the interval between the two was so short that extreme expedition would have been necessary.

There was, however, a French painter, Pierre Quesnel, who may possibly have been attached to Madame de Longueville’s court at the time of Mewtas’ visit; in any case, he accompanied her to Edinburgh two months later, and entered the service of James V. He came of a family of portrait painters, and also practised historical painting. His works are now unknown, but he returned to France in 1557, and designed a painted window for the Augustins of Paris. He had three sons, François, Nicolas, and Jacques. François,[292] who was born in Holyrood about 1543 and died in 1619, was a portrait-painter of exceptional ability, as may be seen from the fine portrait of “Mary Ann Walker” belonging to Lord Spencer at Althorp Park, of which an excellent reproduction in colour has been issued by the Medici Society in their National Portrait Series. It is signed “F. Q.” in monogram, and dated 1572. This picture was brought from France about one hundred years ago, and was obtained from a descendant of the lady’s family. In this connection it may be suggested that the double portrait of “James V and Marie of Lorraine,”[293] in the collection of the Duke of Devonshire at Hardwick, may possibly have been, in its original state, the production of the elder Quesnel’s brush.[294] It must be noted, in conclusion, that there is no record in the English State Papers of the result of Mewtas’ mission, and so it is doubtful if Henry VIII ever possessed a portrait of the lady, whether by Quesnel, or Holbein, or any other painter, such as Hornebolt, in the King’s pay.

Marie was married to the King of Scots on the 9th May, thus putting a final end to Henry’s plans in that direction. In her place, Francis offered him, through Castillon, the choice of any other lady in his kingdom. He was told that “she had a sister as beautiful and as graceful, clever and well-fitted to please and obey him as any other.” This remark bore fruit, and the next morning the King sent Sir John 142Russell, a member of his Privy Council, to make further inquiries. Castillon told the latter that France was a warren of honourable ladies, from which Henry might choose, and that Louise of Guise was the very counterpart of Madame de Longueville. He had not seen her for a long time, but had heard her esteemed above any other lady in the kingdom. Russell then asked Castillon “to find some way that Francis (to show it was not as a refusal that he could not have Madame de Longueville, but because she was promised beforehand) should offer him her sister, and say something of it to M. Briant (Sir Francis Brian, Master of the Toils, then ambassador to France), who would then send her portrait.”[295] “Probably,” added Castillon, in writing to Francis, “he is troubled that it must be known that his great instance made for the one is so suddenly changed for the other.” Francis sent word in reply (May 25) that he would very willingly conclude a match with Henry and Louise of Guise; and on the 31st of the same month Castillon wrote to the Grand Master, Montmorency, urging greater expedition in the matter. “If he (Henry) is to marry in France,” he said, “three or four must be put forward, but let them be of the best and such as Montmorency shall advise as well to M. Brian as in letters from the King to Castillon, who should also have portraits of these put forward.”[296]

The narrative may be broken off here to note that Holbein, who remained in London throughout April and May, engaged, among other things, upon the full-length portrait of the Duchess of Milan, received, on the 29th of the latter month, the grant of a royal licence to export “600 tuns of beer.” It runs as follows: “Hans Holbeyn, the King’s servant. Licence to buy and export 600 tuns of beer. Del. Westminster, 29th May 30 Hen. VIII.”[297] The painter was evidently prepared, when the opportunity arose, to engage in small commercial speculations in order to augment his income, as was the case with more than one of his brother artists attached to Henry’s court. Thus, in April 1531, Luke Hornebolt received a licence to export 400 quarters of barley,[298] and Anthony Toto, “the King’s painter,” was granted one in April 1541,[299] exactly similar to Holbein’s, for the exporting of 600 tuns of beer. Again, Alard Plumier, “the King’s jeweller,” in March 1542,[300] 143obtained grants for importing 400 tuns of Toulouse woad and Gascon wine, and exporting 400 tuns of beer; while, as already mentioned, Holbein’s friend and compatriot, Niklaus Kratzer, the King’s astronomer, received a very similar licence in October 1527.[301]

Henry rose promptly to the bait of Louise of Guise as a wife in place of her elder sister, now unattainable, and as usual no time was wasted. On the 3rd of June he despatched Philip Hoby and a painter to Havre to obtain the lady’s portrait. This we learn from a letter of Castillon’s to Montmorency, dated June 4th, describing an interview between the Duke of Norfolk and the ambassador’s “secretaire a cachetter” respecting the suggested marriage, which concludes with the following passage: “Finally he (Norfolk) said that yesterday he (Henry) despatched the gentleman, who wanted to go to see” (“vouloit aller”; Kaulek reads “souloit”) “Madame de Longueville, to Hâvre de Grâce to see Mademoiselle de Guyse; for a Scotchman has come hither who has said he wonders at the King of Scots taking a widow rather than a young girl, her sister, the most beautiful creature that ever he saw.”[302] In the same letter Castillon again urges that portraits of two or three of the ladies mentioned in his previous despatch should be sent as quickly as possible, as the matter is pressing. In this document there is no reference to Hoby by name, nor mention of any painter accompanying him; nor is there any entry in the King’s Book of Payments as to any expenses paid for such a journey either to Hoby or any other special envoy. Hoby had paid a visit to France earlier in the year in connection with his master’s matrimonial affairs. He had been sent over in February, at about the same time as Mewtas, and evidently, like the latter, for the purpose of urging Madame de Longueville to throw over James V. For this expedition he received exactly the same sum, £23, 6s. 8d., as for his journey to Brussels in the following March. It is entered among the royal payments for February as “Philip Hoby, sent into France about the King’s necessaries and affairs of importance, £23, 6s. 8d.”[303]

But although there is no record of payment for this second journey in June to Havre, or mention of him by name, there is no doubt that Hoby was the envoy sent, and that Holbein accompanied him. Evidence of this is contained in a letter, quoted below,[304] from the 144Duchess of Guise to her daughter Marie in Scotland, dated September 1, which speaks of the arrival of Hoby and Holbein at Joinville, and mentions their earlier visit to Havre. Contributory evidence is contained in Castillon’s letter of June 4, in which he describes the messenger sent as one who had already been over to see, or to try to see, Madame de Longueville, which undoubtedly refers to Hoby’s journey in February. According to the same letter from Joinville, two portraits at least were painted at Havre, or rather studies made, which would only occupy the artist for an hour or two, as in the case of the Duchess of Milan, the sitters in question being Louise of Guise, who was then eighteen, and some other lady—possibly Marie or Margaret of Vendôme.

Somewhere about the date of Hoby’s return from Havre, a third French candidate for Henry’s hand appeared upon the scene. This was Renée, the third daughter of the Duke of Guise, who afterwards became abbess of St. Pierre de Reims. Castillon wrote to Montmorency on June 19: “If you wish to entertain this King urge always the marriages; for he only waits for them to be presented, and the pictures must be sent immediately. He has heard that Mons, de Guyse has a daughter still more beautiful than the second. I hear she is in a religious order, but not professed (qu’elle est en une religion, mais elle n’est pas religieuse). You can say something of it to Mr. Bryant; for he (Henry) expects to be asked and to have several offered to him.”[305]

It will be seen from this letter that Castillon, who was probably unaware of the steps Henry was taking to obtain likenesses by means of his own artists, was doing his utmost, on his own account, to get portraits of likely ladies sent over from France. In a later letter (July 3) he harps upon the same theme. After reporting that Henry is still in the best of humours, and is ready to meet Francis at a house which he will have made between Boulogne and Calais, where they can both stay for six or seven days without pomp or great expense, he concludes by saying: “The principal point to bring him over to the interests of Francis is that he take a wife in France, and they must be more energetic than they have been, and let his ambassador see and send portraits and write news; for he wishes to be sought, and in the seeking they will put him so far in that he cannot draw back.”[306]

145In his reply, dated July 10, Montmorency stated that a portrait of Louise of Guise had been obtained for Brian, who must have already despatched it to England. “If the King does not decide upon her,” he said, “others shall be shown to Brian.”[307] Castillon, who, on account of the plague in London, was then living in Chelsea, in Sir Thomas More’s old house, which had been lent to him by the King for the summer, announced to Francis I on July 25 that Brian “has sent the portrait of Mademoiselle de Guise, whom this King does not think ugly, as I know by his face.”[308] In spite, however, of Henry’s appreciation of the lady’s charms, Castillon, in a letter to Montmorency of the same date, urged that portraits of Mademoiselle de Vendôme and the young de Guise (i.e. Renée) should be despatched with all diligence.[309]

Throughout these negotiations Henry frequently suggested that a selection of ladies should be brought to Calais for his personal approval, in charge of Francis’ sister, Margaret of Navarre, or some other high personage, such as the Duke of Guise. “The ladies he means,” wrote Castillon to Francis on August 12, “are Mesdemoiselles de Vendôsme, de Lorraine, and the two de Guise. He has heard something of the younger of the two last, and I think he will settle on one of them. He has a great opinion of their house.”[310] This request of Henry’s gave great offence in France, which was voiced in a letter from Montmorency to Castillon on July 29: “To bring him thither (i.e. to Calais), as he asks, young ladies to choose and make them promenade on show! They are not hackneys to sell, and there would be no propriety in it. Henry has his choice of Mdlle. de Vendosme, or Mdlle. de Guise, and can judge of their beauty by the portraits and reports made to him; and if these be not approved, there are many other ladies from whom to choose. The selection might be left to his ambassador, Briant, who could send portraits.”[311] Even this did not quell the King, and in the end he was informed that Lorraine was not under the sway of Francis, and that he would have to apply for the hand of the damsel (Anne of Lorraine) to her father and mother, and as for the two daughters of Guise, one had already professed as a nun, while the other, as well as the daughter of M. de Vendosme, could not be disposed of as though they were on sale.

This official portrait of Louise of Guise by some French painter, which Brian sent over—and possibly a second one of Marie of Vendôme, as may be inferred from the last quoted letter—must not be confused with those privately procured by Hoby at Havre in June. These later French portraits cannot now be traced, and it would be mere guesswork to attempt to name the artist who was employed to produce them; but a careful search through the royal collections or in some of the older houses in England might possibly result in their discovery.

Some time in August Holbein and Hoby set out together upon their journey “into the parties of high Burgony.” The purpose of their expedition was to obtain portraits of Renée of Guise, the Duke’s third daughter, and of her cousin, Anne of Lorraine, while Hoby was to sound the latter’s father as to his inclinations towards a possible marriage between his house and England. Hoby’s instructions from Cromwell, as given in abstract in the State Papers, run as follows:

“‘A memorial [by Cromwell] to my friend Philip Hoby touching such matters as he hath now committed to his charge.’

“To repair with diligence where the young duke of Longueville lies, where he shall find the two daughters of Mons, de Guyse, whom he shall salute, declaring that having business in these parts he could not omit to visit the one of them ‘of whom he hath by his late being there some acquaintance.’ And therewith he shall view well the younger sister, and shall require the Duchess, her mother, or whoever has the government of them, that he may take the physiognomy of her, that he may join her sister and her in a fair table. Which obtained, he shall go to the duke of Lorraine, deliver my letter of credence, and declare that no doubt he has heard of my good will to advance some personage of his house to the marriage of the King my master; and albeit my purpose has not taken the effect I desired, yet my affection remains the same; and learning lately that his Grace has a daughter of excellent quality, I directed the said Philip, who has other affairs there, to see her and get her picture. Requiring him to show his inclination and devise some overture to the King, upon which I may set forth this thing. Philip shall also speak in the same manner to the young lady. As soon as he has gotten her physiognomy and known the Duke’s pleasure he shall return with all possible diligence.”[312]

147When Marie of Guise married James V of Scotland she left her son François, Duke de Longueville, behind her in charge of his maternal grandmother, Anthoinette of Bourbon, Duchess of Guise, who throughout 1538 was at Joinville, one of the chief residences of the family, or at places in the immediate neighbourhood. Joinville is a small town in Champagne, situated on the Marne between Chaumont and Saint-Dizier, and was made a principality by Henri II in 1552 in favour of Duke Claude’s eldest son, François II of Guise. Mary Queen of Scots resided there for some time when a young girl, under the care of her maternal grandmother, the Duchess of Guise. Miss Jane T. Stoddart, in her recently-published book, The Girlhood of Mary Queen of Scots, describes Joinville as follows:

“The train from Bar-le-Duc passes through a fertile, well-wooded country, with many sparkling streams and closely planted villages. There are few more picturesquely situated towns in Eastern France than Joinville, which lies on a branch of the Marne, in a valley overshadowed by undulating tree-clad heights, on one of which, until near the end of the eighteenth century, stood the Castle of the Guises.... The woods of Joinville to-day are full of singing birds. Every variety of foliage clothes the deep ravines. The high road leading towards Wassy is fringed with innumerable small, well-kept gardens, and the air, on May evenings, is not only light and bracing, but sweet with the scent of flowers. The little town must have changed very much in appearance since the sixteenth century. It once possessed a wall and three gates, and an old map in the Hôtel de Ville shows more than a dozen spires.... It acquired great importance under the first Dukes of Guise, who used it as their habitual country residence, and entertained royal personages in the Castle with regal magnificence. That proud Castle was allowed to fall into ruins during the eighteenth century.... The picturesque quays near the church, where the grass-impeded Marne runs between rows of tall, irregularly built houses, cannot have altered greatly since Queen Mary’s time. In unexpected corners we find whitewashed houses adorned with old and costly sculptor’s work, with carved pillars, and scrolls of vine-leaves surrounding the porch.”[313]

For Joinville, then, the diplomatist and the artist set out about 148the middle of August. The journey was a long one, and Hoby received in advance for travelling expenses, £66, 13s. 4d., nearly three times as much as he had been paid for his earlier journeys to Havre and Brussels, thus showing that the expedition was to be of considerably longer duration. This payment is entered in the royal accounts under August, anno 30, and is undated, but as may be gathered from entries preceding and following it, it was on some day between August 11 and 22. The place of destination is not mentioned; Hoby is said merely to be “sent into the parts of beyond the sea with all diligence.”[314]

All the information so far to be gained about this journey is contained in a letter from the Duchess of Guise to her daughter in Scotland, dated September 1, which is preserved among the Balcarres MSS. in the Advocates’ Library in Edinburgh. From it we learn that the two travellers reached Joinville on August 30. The letter begins by describing the health of the youthful Duke of Longueville, who was not quite three years old, and was growing very tall and plump, and goes on to give an account of the illnesses of various members of the family. Louise was still ill of the fever, and had not moved from her bed for eight days. Her brother Claude had been ill, even to death, at Autun, but was now quite out of danger. “Your sister Anthoinette is also ill of a fever and of a rheum, but I think she will do well. Your aunt (the Duchess of Lorraine) is sent for to be at Court at the coming of the Queen of Hungary, who is to be presently at Compiègne, where the King and all the Court will be in a few days.”

The letter then continues:

“It is but two days since the gentleman of the King of England who was at Havre and the painter were here. The gentleman came to me, pretending that he was going to the Emperor, and having heard that Louise was ill, would not go without seeing her, that he might report news of her to the King his master. He saw her (it was the day of her fever), and talked with her as he had done to me. He then told me that, being so near Lorraine, he wished to go to Nency to see the country. ‘Je me doute (doubtai) in contynent il y allet voir la demoyselle (i.e. Anne of Lorraine) pour la tirer comes les aultres;’ for which reason I sent to their lodging to see who was there, and 149found the said painter was there. In fact they have been at Nency, where they spent a day, and were well entertained, and at every meal the maître de hôtel came to eat with them, with plenty of presents. ‘Vella se que j’en ay encore seu; au pis alle sy navyes pour voysine vostre seur se pouret estre vostre cousine.’”[315]

This letter fully bears out Cromwell’s instructions to Hoby. It is plain from its wording that Hoby had already obtained a portrait of Louise at Havre, and at least one other, of some unnamed lady (“pour la tirer comes les aultres”); and that the painter who had drawn them was the painter now at Joinville. Their journey was, however, in part at least, a failure, for their chief purpose in visiting the Duchess was to obtain a portrait of her daughter Renée, the “religieuse.” Hoby was ordered “to take the physiognomy of her, that he may join her sister and her in a fair table”; in other words, he was to get a drawing of the younger girl in order that her portrait might be painted as a companion to the one of her sister Louise already completed, so that they might be hung side by side in one of those double frames hinged together of which Henry VIII had several in his collection. Unfortunately for their purpose, Renée was not at Joinville, so that nothing could be done, and Hoby had to be content with an interview with Louise in her bedchamber. The fourth daughter, Anthoinette, was at home, but she was then only a child of seven. Thanks to the curiosity of the Duchess, however, we know that they succeeded in the second half of their mission. They spent a day at Nancy, where they were well received by the Duke of Lorraine, and evidently procured the drawing required, which Holbein would easily make in a few hours. Hoby attempted to conceal the real purpose of this visit to Nancy from the Duchess of Guise, but the lady was sharp enough to guess what was in the wind. Whether Louise or Anne, however, it was all in the family. “If the worst comes to the worst,” she tells the Queen of Scots, “if you do not have your sister for neighbour, it may well be your cousin.”

The letter is far from easy to decipher, owing to its extraordinary spelling and grammar. It is difficult to gather from it which of the two places Hoby and his companion first visited. The Duchess, 150writing only two days after they had been with her, says that the envoy told her that “he wished to go to Nency,” which seems to indicate a prospective journey; but, on the other hand, she says “they have been to Nency,” and a journey from Joinville to Nancy and back again, together with a whole day spent at the latter place, could not possibly have been accomplished between August 30 and September 1, so that it looks as though they had gone straight to the Duke of Lorraine in spite of Cromwell’s instructions, and then from there on to Joinville. The point, however, is of little importance.

Neither in Cromwell’s instructions nor the Duchess’s letter is Holbein mentioned by name, but that he was the painter who accompanied Hoby seems certain. In less than a fortnight afterwards he was in Basel, an easy journey from Lorraine, where he made a stay of at least some weeks, returning to England some time before Christmas, when he received from the royal purse a special reward of £10 for his journey into “high Burgony.” The entry runs as follows: “December, Ao xxx:—Item payde to Hans Holbyn, one of the Kingis paynters, by the Kingis commaundement, certefyed by my Lorde pryviseales lettre, x li. for his costis and chargis at this tyme sent aboute certeyn his gracis affares into the parties of high Burgony, by way of his Graces rewarde, x li.”[316]

Wornum and other writers have assumed that this journey to High Burgundy had to do with the painting of the portrait of the Duchess of Milan. The former even suggests that the £10 might be a deferred payment for the visit to Brussels in March.[317] But the title “High Burgony” was quite appropriate to the district in which Joinville and Nancy are situate. Woltmann says that High Burgundy was the name given to the county of Burgundy (Franche Comté), which belonged to the Emperor, in distinction to the duchy of Burgundy, which was French, and added that, in those days, the denomination would not have been impossible for Switzerland.[318] It may be taken, therefore, considering the lack of accurate geographical knowledge then existing in England, that the expression “High Burgony” sufficiently indicated, in the mind of the keeper of the royal accounts, that part of the world in which Guise and Lorraine had their headquarters.

That the payment of this special reward to Holbein—his travelling 151and other expenses would be included in the sum of £66, 13s. 4d. paid to Hoby—was deferred until Christmas was owing to the fact that, finding himself so near Switzerland when at Joinville, he seized the opportunity of paying a visit to his family in Basel, and so remained absent from England for about three months in all. Another point in favour of the contention that Holbein was abroad on the King’s business during 1538 more often than has been generally supposed, is to be found in the fact that at the Midsummer quarter he received three-quarters of a year’s salary in advance. At Lady Day he had been paid his customary quarter’s salary: “Lady Day, Anno xxix:—Item for Hans Holben, paynter, vii li. xs.”

At Midsummer he received £30, a whole year’s salary, but it included the quarter from Lady Day then owing to him. The entry reads: “Midsummer, Anno xxx:—Item for Hans Holbyn, paynter, for one hole yere’s annuitie advaunced to him beforehand the same yere, to be accomptedde from or Ladye dey last past, the somme of xxx li.”

On the two following quarter-days, owing to this payment in advance, he is entered as receiving nothing:

“Michaelmas, Ao xxx:—Item for Hans Holbyn, paynter, wages nihila quia solutum per warrantum.” “Christmas, Ao xxx:—Item for Hans Holbyn, paynter, Nihil.”

This payment in advance has generally been regarded as a mark of the King’s special favour and as an acknowledgment of his talents as an artist, but it was more probably due to his frequent absences from England at that time. On the one hand, his several journeys might well entail some amount of extra expenditure not covered by his travelling allowances, while on the other his income would be reduced through the limited time left him for painting the portraits of English courtiers or German merchants. There is, in fact, no portrait from his brush bearing the date 1538. Added to this, his great success in painting the Duchess of Milan must be taken into account. The King was delighted with this portrait, and his choice would naturally fall upon the man who had painted it when a similar journey was in contemplation.

There is one piece of evidence, however, against the assumption that Holbein was the painter who went to Joinville, which must not 152be overlooked—a letter from Niklaus Kratzer, the King’s astronomer, to Cromwell. It is a much-mutilated epistle, written in somewhat halting and incorrect Latin. Kratzer begins by saying that he had received, the day before writing, by a ship from Antwerp, two little books by Georgius Spalatinus, which the author had sent to him in order that he might present them to Cromwell. “These,” he says, “I gave to Hans Holbein (Joanni Holbein), in order that he might give them to you.” At first sight this looks as though Kratzer might have given Holbein the books to deliver, knowing that he was about to visit Cromwell for final instructions on the eve of his departure for High Burgundy. The letter,[319] however, is dated St. Bartholomew’s Day, August 24 (Datum Lunduni, in [festo Sancti] Bartholomei), so that if Kratzer had seen Holbein on August 23, the latter could not possibly have reached Joinville by the 30th; for although the King’s messengers were accustomed to travel with great expedition—Castillon complains to Montmorency that the English couriers took only five or six days between Paris and London, whereas the French messengers took double that time—it would have been impossible, even with the utmost speed then attainable, to reach the far borders of eastern France within a week. But although the letter is dated “St. Bartholomew’s Day,” it has no year-date. It has been placed under the year 1538 by the editor of the Calendars of Letters and Papers from such internal evidence in it as it is possible to decipher; but it is so badly mutilated that it is impossible to make much sense of the greater part of it. It contains news from abroad, and mentions Burgratus, vice-chancellor of the Duke of Saxony; and Burgratus was certainly in London in the summer of 1538, with other envoys from the German Protestant princes. These envoys, however, paid more than one visit to England. As, therefore, the letter contains no evidence absolutely conclusive of the date 1538, it may, perhaps, be permitted to hold the opinion that it was written in some other year, and that, by itself, it is not sufficient to negative the strong proofs brought forward to show that Holbein was the painter who made this particular journey into France. Nor was this the only occasion on which Spalatinus used Kratzer as the medium for sending copies of his writings to Cromwell. On February 5, 1539, Cromwell wrote to the King, enclosing “a book brought this morning by Nic. Cratzer, astronomer, 153which Geo. Spalatinus, some time schoolmaster to the duke of Saxony, desired him to deliver to the King, on ‘The Solace and Consolation of Princes.’”[320]

One other point in connection with this subject must be mentioned before leaving it. Hoby’s instructions for visiting the courts of the Duchess of Guise and the Duke of Lorraine are not dated. The editor of the Calendars has entered them under February 1538, together with the very similar instructions for the visit to the Duchess of Milan, which are also undated, placing both under the one heading, “Philip Hoby’s Missions.” For the latter instructions, which he puts second, February is, of course, the correct date, but the former should be under August, as the preceding pages prove. Dr. Gairdner was misled, in the first place, by the fact that in February Hoby received payment from the royal purse for a journey to France, and, in the second, through his misreading of the heading to the Brussels instructions, as explained in the last chapter.[321] By the insertion of two unnecessary words,[322] the last-named instructions are made to read as though it was Cromwell’s intention that Hoby, on this particular journey, should go first of all to the Duchess of Lorraine, and then to the Duchess of Milan. He concludes from this, in his preface to vol. xiii. pt. i. of the Calendars of Letters and Papers, that Hoby went to France in February for the purpose of obtaining the portraits of Marie of Guise and her sister Louise in a single picture, and immediately upon his return set out for Brussels to get one of the Duchess of Milan. There is no need to quote the whole of his argument, as it is based upon a misapprehension, for the instructions in question were undoubtedly drawn up in August, as the letter of the Duchess of Guise, of the 1st of September, clearly proves.[323]

In spite of this anxiety to obtain portraits, Henry’s negotiations for a French marriage were as unsuccessful as his advances for the hand 154of the Duchess of Milan. In each case, no doubt, the proposed alliance was largely political, though Henry seems to have been genuinely anxious to marry Madame de Longueville, or to prevent his nephew of Scotland from doing so, and was afterwards by no means unwilling to take one of her sisters. Throughout the whole proceedings the French and the Imperial ambassadors in London kept each other well informed of what was going on, though each one was of the private opinion that Henry was more inclined towards a bride from his country than from the other’s. Thus Chapuys, writing to Charles V early in 1539, reports that “everybody says he is much inclined to the duchess of Milan, whom, as I was informed three days ago, by one who knows almost all secrets, he would willingly take, even if she were delivered to him naked without a penny.”[324] On the other hand, Castillon told Montmorency: “He, however, says the practice of his marriage with the duchess of Milan still continues, ... but I know he would willingly return to marry Mademoiselle de Guise. If you think the King (Francis) and Emperor should have the pastime of seeing him thus ‘virolin virolant,’ I can easily get it up, provided a little good cheer is made to his ambassador, and that M. le Cardinal or M. de Guise caress him a little.”[325] Henry, however, finally turned his attentions in another direction, while two of the ladies he had sought were soon married elsewhere, Louise of Guise to Charles de Croi, Prince de Chimaix, in 1541, and Anne of Lorraine to René, Prince of Orange, in 1540. The third, Marie of Vendôme, died unmarried, aged twenty-two, on 28th September 1538, a week or two after Holbein was at Joinville.[326]

Whether Holbein painted pictures of one or all of these ladies from the drawings he made in France it is impossible to say. The drawings themselves cannot be traced, but this does not prove that they were not taken, for the preliminary studies of Christina of Milan and of Anne of Cleves and her sister Amelia have so far remained undiscovered. Holbein and Hoby parted company at Nancy early in September, the former to visit his wife and family in Basel, while the latter returned post-haste to London, no doubt taking with him Holbein’s sketch of Anne of Lorraine in order to show it to his royal master. In October Hoby set out for Spain, in connection with the negotiations for the Milan marriage.

155The contents of this chapter and the preceding one may be summarised as follows:

February 1, 1538.—Peter Mewtas sent over to France to obtain the portrait of Marie of Lorraine, Duchess of Longueville. Early in the same month Philip Hoby was also sent into France for the same purpose (about the King’s “necessaries and affairs of importance”), for which he was paid £23, 6s. 8d.

March 2 or 3, 1538. —Hoby and Holbein left London for Brussels to obtain the portrait of the Duchess of Milan, reaching the latter place on the evening of the 10th.

March 12, 1538.—Holbein made his drawing of the Duchess, and the two men started home on the evening of the same day, reaching London on March 18.

April and May 1538.—Holbein at work on the full-length portrait of the Duchess of Milan.

May 29, 1538.—Holbein received a royal licence to export 600 tuns of beer.

June 3, 1538.—Hoby and Holbein left London for Havre to obtain the portrait of Louise of Guise, and of some other lady, possibly Marie or Margaret of Vendôme.

June 30, 1538.—Holbein received three-quarters of a year’s salary in advance.

August 11-22, 1538.—On one of the days between these dates Hoby and Holbein left London for Nancy and Joinville to obtain portraits of Renée of Guise and Anne of Lorraine, receiving £66, 13s. 4d. for their travelling expenses. They arrived at Joinville on August 30, to find Renée absent, but were successful at Nancy in getting a likeness of Anne. From Joinville Hoby returned to London, and Holbein went on to Basel, which he reached before September 10. He remained there until after October 16.

December 1538.—Holbein, upon his return to London, received a special reward of £10 “for his costis and chargis at this tyme sent aboute certeyn his gracis affares into the parties of high Burgony, by way of his Graces rewarde.”

Holbein’s return to Basel—Fêted by his fellow-citizens—His prosperous condition—Proposes to repaint his wall-decorations—Offer of a pension of fifty gulden from the Basel Town Council, with permission to remain in England two years longer—Death and will of Sigmund Holbein—Holbein returns to England, probably by way of Paris, in order to apprentice his son Philip to Jacob David, goldsmith—Back in London before Christmas 1538—Receives a special reward for his journey to “High Burgony”—Portraits of Edward, Prince of Wales—Guillim Stretes.

SOME nine days after Hoby and Holbein parted company at Nancy the latter was home again in Basel after an absence of six years.[327] The journey across the Vosges mountains would not be a long one. On September 12, 1538, Rudolph Gwalther, then studying in Basel, wrote to the antistes Heinrich Bullinger in Zürich: “Hans Holbein came recently to Basel from England, and he gives such a glowing account of the happy condition of that kingdom, that after a few weeks’ stay he means to go back again.”[328] He received a very hearty welcome from the citizens, who, now that his reputation was much more than a local one, were naturally proud of the fact that he was one of themselves. On September 10 his fellow-burghers gave a banquet in his honour in the Guild-house in the St. Johanns-Vorstadt, the quarter of the city in which Holbein’s own residence was situated. Matthäus Steck, the steward of the Dominican Monastery, notes in his Book of Accounts that he and the schoolmaster, Brother Jacob, with their wives, were present on the occasion, and that they spent eight shillings.

There is a most interesting reference to this home-coming in Dr. Ludwig Iselin’s additions to the Faesch manuscript (discovered by Dr. 157His-Heusler), in which he says: “When he returned to Basel for a time from England, he was attired in silk and velvet; before this he was obliged to buy wine at the tap.”[329] In Basel, a city where wine was both cheap and plentiful, and all men of means kept a well-stocked cellar, to be obliged to procure it, from day to day, from the tavern was a sign of poverty, and Iselin thus contrasts Holbein’s worldly condition before leaving Switzerland and after his entry into the service of Henry VIII. Iselin adds, after stating that Holbein died soon after his return to England, that “his intention was, had God lengthened his life, to paint many of his pictures again, at his own expense, as well as the apartment in the Town Hall. The house ‘zum Tanz,’ he said, was ‘rather good.’” The pictures which he wished to put in order were, of course, his wall-paintings on the exterior of several of the Basel houses, done in his youth, some eighteen years earlier, which even then were beginning to suffer from exposure to the weather, and his frescoes in the Town Hall, some of which were already damaged by damp. No doubt, too, he felt that he could improve upon them, though it is interesting to note that he expressed himself satisfied with the “House of the Dance” façade, in which he had given the freest play to his imagination.

Twice during his absence in England, on November 23, 1533, and January 7, 1537, he had been “laid out for the banneret” by his Guild “zum Himmel”—that is, appointed as one of those who had to perform the military service of the Guild, but he had ignored the summons.[330] Possibly he knew nothing about it. He had even disregarded the letter from the burgomaster, sent to him in September 1532, shortly after his return to England, in spite of the offer of a pension which it contained; for England afforded far better opportunities than Switzerland for the making of money.

The two items, from the Banner Book of the Guild “zum Himmel,” are as follows:

The first entry is brought forward by Mr. W. F. Dickes as one of the strongest pieces of evidence in favour of his contention that Holbein obeyed the request contained in the Burgomaster’s letter, and returned to Basel in the winter of 1532, and remained there throughout the following year, so that he could not have painted “The Ambassadors” in England in 1533. He entirely misreads the entry, however, which he regards as a record “of monies due to Holbein for festal decorations on behalf of the two city guilds”[332] (Von Himmel und von Sternen); and he ignores the second entry, which, to be logical, should prove that Holbein was also in Basel in January 1537. No “monies” are entered against these items, as one would gather from his description, so that it is difficult to see how they record sums due to the painter. They were merely lists of names, as Woltmann points out,[333] of members of the Guilds appointed to take their turn of military service on festal occasions. The second entry shows this even more clearly than the first, and from it we learn that Holbein was one of thirteen members thus appointed as banner-bearers.

It is probable that one of the chief reasons for Holbein’s visit to Basel, in addition to a natural desire to see his family, was to make some arrangement with the Town Council for a further leave of absence. He was now in the actual service of a foreign sovereign, and he ran the risk of losing his rights of citizenship unless he could come to some understanding with the civic authorities. He had taken, as we have seen, no notice of the Council’s urgent request, sent after him to England in the autumn of 1532, and he had ignored the calls made upon him by the Painters’ Guild during the six years of his absence, for fulfilling his share of various official and ceremonial duties. Probably he was quite unaware that such calls had been made. Now, however, that he was in Henry VIII’s pay, it was necessary that some definite arrangement should be made, which would enable him to remain in England at least some years longer without risk of unpleasant 159consequences. The Council, seeing that he had become a painter of high reputation, known far beyond the confines of Switzerland, were more anxious than ever to keep him in Basel. Aware, however, that they were not rich enough to find him employment as remunerative as that enjoyed by him at the English court, they effected a compromise. A document was drawn up, after consultation with the painter, in which a much more generous offer was made to him than the one proposed in 1532. This agreement, which was signed on behalf of the Council by Jakob Meyer, “zum Hirschen,” after extolling Holbein’s reputation as a painter, offered him a pension of fifty gulden a year, with permission to remain in England for two years longer, during which time they would pay his wife a pension of forty gulden. After his final return to Basel, he was still to be permitted to receive service money from foreign kings, princes, nobles, and cities, and, in order to sell his pictures, was to be allowed to visit France, England, Milan, or the Netherlands once, twice, or thrice a year for that purpose.

The document runs as follows:

“Master Hans Holbein the painter’s Pension.”

“We, Jacob Meyger, Burgomaster, and the Council of the city of Basel, do make known and acknowledge with this letter that:

“From the special and favourable will which we bear to the honourable Hans Holbein, the painter, our dear citizen, since he is famous beyond other painters on account of the wealth of his art; weighing further that in matters belonging to our city respecting building affairs and other things which he understands, he can aid us with his counsel, and that in case we had to execute painting work on any occasion, he should undertake the same, for suitable reward, we have therefore consented, arranged, and pledged to give and to present to the above-named Hans Holbein a free and right pension from our treasury of fifty gulden, though with the following conditions, and only during his lifetime, whether he be well or ill, yearly, in equal parts at the four quarters.

“As however the said Hans Holbein has now sojourned for some time with the King’s Majesty in England, and according to his declaration it is to be feared that he can scarcely quit the Court for the next two years, we have allowed him under these circumstances to 160remain in England the two years following this date, in order to merit a gracious discharge, and to receive salary, and have consented during these two years to pay his wife residing among us forty gulden yearly, i.e. ten gulden quarterly, which are to begin from next Christmas, as the end of the first quarter. With the addition that in case Hans Holbein should receive his discharge from England within these two years and should return to us at Basel and remain here, that we should from that moment give him his pension of fifty gulden, and let it be paid to him in equal parts at the end of the quarter. And, as we can well imagine that the said Holbein, with his art and work being of so far more value than that they should be expended on old walls and houses, cannot with us alone reap much advantage, we have therefore allowed the said Holbein, that, unimpeded by our agreement, for the sake of his art and trade, and for no other unlawful and crafty matters, as we have also impressed upon him, he may gain, accept, and receive service money from foreign kings, princes, nobles, and cities; that moreover he may convey and sell the works of art which he may execute here once, twice, or thrice a year, each time with our special permission, and not without our knowledge, to foreign gentlemen in France, England, Milan, and the Netherlands. Yet on such journeys, he may not remain craftily abroad, but on each occasion he shall do his business in the speediest manner, and repair home without delay and be serviceable to us, as we have before said, and as he has promised.

“In conclusion, when the oft-mentioned Holbein has paid the debt of nature according to the will of God, and has departed from this valley of tears, then shall this warrant, pension, and present letter be at an end, and we and our descendants therefore are not pledged to give aught to anyone. All upright, honourable, and with integrity. This letter, signed with our official seal, we have given into the hand of the oft-mentioned Holbein as a true document. Wednesday the sixteenth day of October, anno xxxviii.”[334]

This document shows very clearly that though the civic authorities of Basel were anxious to retain Holbein in their service, they were doubtful whether they would be able to find much work for him except in the direction of an occasional wall-painting or decoration of a house-front; and his talents, they acknowledged, were too great to be 161devoted to nothing but the covering of “old walls and houses” with designs. They, therefore, made many concessions, which would enable him to pursue his art with almost the same freedom he had hitherto enjoyed. In spite of the liberality of the terms, however, the document remained, as far as Holbein was concerned, a dead letter throughout the five remaining years of his life; at least, no evidence has so far been discovered to show that he ever visited Basel again, though, as suggested in an earlier chapter,[335] he may have done so about the year 1541. Whether his wife received the pension of 40 gulden for the first two years is not known. There is no mention of it in the Council’s accounts, but Woltmann suggests that it may have been given, as was often the case with pensions of this kind, out of the monastery revenues.

Holbein was bound to return to England for at least another six months, as he had received nine months’ salary in advance, but there can be little doubt that he had, at the time, every intention of accepting the Council’s conditions. He was, however, so popular in England, and had so much work on hand, that he found it increasingly difficult to leave, so that in the end his arrangement with the Basel Council fell to the ground. It has been suggested, too, that the death of his uncle Sigmund in Berne, in November 1540, at about the time when Holbein was due to return to Basel, may have had something to do with his determination to remain in England; for Sigmund bequeathed all his property to his “dear brother’s son Hans,” and it was handed over to the latter’s wife in his absence. The will, from which we learn that “Sigmund Holbeyn” was then a citizen of Berne, and being old, was about to make a journey to Augsburg to see his relations, continues:

“In the first place, I will and bequeath to my dear brother’s son Hans Holbeyn, the painter, citizen at Basel, both as my blood relation and my own race and name, as well as from the especial love I bear him and from the affinity in which he stands to me, the free gift of all my goods and property which I have and leave in the city of Berne, namely, my house, and courtyard, and the garden behind, standing in the Brunnengasse, on the sunny side, above by the Trom Wall, near Görg Zimmerman, the tailor’s, house. The said property is free 162from taxes, with the exception of five pounds interest, including the commutation-capital, which I owe out of it to Herr Bernhard Tillman, treasurer of the council at Berne, for money lent. Item, my silver utensils, household furniture, colours, painter’s gold and silver, implements for painting, and other things, nothing excepted, that he shall appropriate the same as my appointed heir, have it in his possession, do with it and live as with his own possession and property, unmolested by my sisters and by any one. What I have here bequeathed to him, will be found noted on a separate roll, so that my cousin can better inquire after it.”[336]

He left what property he possessed in Augsburg to his three sisters, Ursula Nepperschmid and Anna Elchinger in Augsburg, and Margreth Herwart in Esslingen. The will is dated September 6, 1540, and the testator died very shortly afterwards.

On the 18th of November the Berne Town Council wrote to both Basel and Augsburg notifying his heirs of his decease, and on the 10th January in the following year the property was handed over to Holbein’s stepson, as the authorised agent of his mother. The confirmation of the testament, in the name of Hans Franz Nägely, burgomaster of Berne, speaks of him as “the honourable and wise Franz Schmid, citizen of Basel,” and says that he brought “a procuracy and a letter from Elsbeth, the wife of Master Hans Holbein, the painter, citizen of Basel, and also a letter from the burgomaster and council of the town of Basel.”

This legacy would serve to some extent in place of the annuity of 40 gulden paid by the Council to Elsbeth Holbein, which would cease when her husband failed to carry out his part of the agreement. Woltmann suggests that she probably settled in Berne in consequence of this bequest, in the house on the sunny side of the Brunnengasse, although there is no documentary proof of this. On the other hand, the inventory of her household goods and property, drawn up after her death in 1549, and preserved in Basel, indicates that she never permanently severed her connection with that city.

Holbein must have set out again for England shortly after the drawing up of this agreement, and there is some reason to suppose that he travelled back by way of Paris, taking his elder son, Philip, with him, and apprenticing him in that city for six years to Jacob 163David, the goldsmith, who was a native, and still remained a citizen, of Basel. This information is obtained from a letter addressed to David from the Burgomaster Adelberg Meyer and the Council of Basel, dated 19th November 1545,[337] with reference to a dispute between the apprentice and his master, the latter refusing to give him his discharge on the completion of his six years’ service. This letter speaks of Holbein as deceased, and refers to Philip as a “good, pious youth,” still in his minority, and under the care of his step-brother, Franz Schmid.

David is informed that “it has credibly reached our ears that thou wilt give no discharge to Philipp Holbein (but that thou hast brought him moreover in Paris before the Lord-Lieutenant), although he has served thee honestly and honourably his six years, which were promised by his father, the deceased Hans Holbein, our citizen, now when he, at befitting opportunity, desires to depart from thee, and this not alone on account of his honest and honourable service, as was thy duty before God and in all honour. Thus thou addest one cause of complaint to another, and aimest at oppressing the good, pious youth as far as thou canst and in causing his ruin. This thine unfriendly conduct has caused us not a little regret; we had in no wise foreseen it, but had rather hoped that if any one sought to hinder another in his success and welfare, thou would’st have taken up his cause and protected him.... Besides, this Philipp Holbein is in his minority, and is under the care of Franz Schmid, his brother, our citizen, and without his help and authority is qualified for no lawsuit; it is our pleasure, therefore, and we herewith request thee as our citizen, that thou forthwith and immediately breakest off the complaint brought by thee against Philipp Holbein and allowest him, kindly and friendly to depart from thee, and because he has served thee honestly and truly, that thou givest him a good sealed letter of discharge, of which he may make use. In all this we express our earnest will and command; we have also written to the Lieutenant who is judge between you both, our citizens, not to continue the proceedings, and to refer you both hither.” The letter concludes by saying that if David feels he has a just claim against Philip, he is to cite him before the municipal court of Basel, when full justice shall be done. A letter to the same effect, and of the same date, was sent to Philip, ordering him not to enter into any further law proceedings in 164Paris, but to take his discharge and return to Basel, where his case would be decided by the municipal authorities.[338]

It seems clear from this letter to David that the dispute arose shortly after the completion of Philip’s six years of apprenticeship, in which case the boy must have been left in Paris in the autumn of 1539, and not of 1538. If that was so, then Holbein cannot have personally apprenticed him on his return to England from Basel, and Philip must have gone there a year later in charge of someone else. It is possible, however, that Holbein took his son with him to England, and kept him there for twelve months or so, sending or taking him to Paris in 1539. It is usually supposed that the boy in the family group of 1528 represents Philip, the elder son, born about 1522. In the picture he appears to be five or six years old. He would thus be about fifteen or sixteen in 1538—rather a late age upon which to enter his apprenticeship—and twenty-two at the date of the letter, which, however, speaks of him as still a minor.[339]

Holbein was back again in London some time before Christmas, 1538, when he received the special reward of £10 for his journey into Upper Burgundy. His first work of importance after his return was a portrait of the infant Prince Edward, then some fourteen months old. This was presented to the King on January 1, 1539, being entered in the roll of New Year’s gifts as: “By Hanse Holbyne a table of the pictour of the pince (Prince’s) grace.” In return he received from his royal master a silver-gilt covered cup supplied by Cornelis Hayes, one of the King’s goldsmiths. “To Hans Holbyne, paynter, a gilte cruse wt a cover (Cornelis) weing x oz. quarter.”

Holbein died when Edward was just six years old, so that he cannot have painted the various portraits of the Prince in which he is represented at a somewhat later period of life and after he was King, though at one time they were all attributed to him. There are only three portraits of him, and a few drawings, which show him as a child of tender years, of which the authorship can be given to Holbein. The picture in the Provinzial Museum, Hanover, is generally regarded as the original work which he painted as a New Year’s gift for the King. An almost identical picture is in the possession of the Earl of 165Yarborough, which some writers regard as an unquestionable work of Holbein, while others consider it to be merely an excellent old copy.

The Hanover picture[340] is a life-size, half-length figure, facing the spectator. The child is dressed in a red velvet coat trimmed with gold, and sleeves of gold brocade. A red hat, with gold tags and a large ostrich feather, tied under the chin, surmounts the closely-fitting cap, from beneath which his fair hair falls over his forehead. His right hand is held out with open palm, and in his left he grasps a gold rattle. In front of him is a stone or panel on which eight lines of Latin verse from the pen of Sir Richard Morysin are inscribed, exhorting the Prince to imitate his wonderful father. “Little one, imitate your father,” the lines run, “and be the heir of his virtue, the world contains nothing greater—Heaven and Nature could scarcely give a son whose glory should surpass that of such a father. You only equal the acts of your parent, the wishes of men cannot go beyond this. Surpass him, and you have surpassed all the kings the world ever worshipped, and none will ever surpass you.”[341] The head stands out well against the sky-blue background. The round, chubby face, and small fat hands, are most truthfully and delightfully rendered, while the colour scheme is very harmonious. It is, indeed, in all ways, a most sympathetic and delightful study of childhood.

The almost equally charming little work in the Earl of Yarborough’s collection (Pl. 22)[342] is practically a replica of the one in the Hanover Museum. According to Wornum, it was at one time in the Arundel Collection, at Stafford House, and was sold in 1720, subsequently passing into the possession of Sir Richard Worsley, of Appuldurcombe, Isle of Wight, and afterwards to the present owner. The same writer notes some few peculiarities in its execution—“some defects in the right hand, and a certain want of transparency, or a mealyness in the colouring, that are not entirely consistent with Holbein’s practice.”[343] It is most probably an old and careful copy after the original at Hanover. It was in the Tudor Exhibition, 1890 (No. 174), and the Burlington Fine Arts Club, 1909 (No. 62).

166Charles I had a copy of this portrait made by Peter Oliver, signed “P. O.,” and inscribed “Edwardus Princeps Filius Henrici Octavi Regis Angliae.” In the King’s catalogue it is described by Van der Doort as: “22. Item, the picture of King Edward VI in his infancy, in a red cap with a white feather, and a red coat laced with gold, and golden cloth sleeves, holding in his left hand a round golden rattle, and with his right hand in some action; by a green table, whereupon is written in white and black letters. Being in a black shutting frame. Painted upon the wrong light. 4¾ in. × 2 in.” A marginal note describes it as “copied by Peter Oliver after Hans Holbein, whereof my Lord Arundel has the principal limning.” Wenceslaus Hollar engraved the picture in 1650,[344] when it was in the Arundel Collection.[345]

The Duke of Northumberland’s version, at Syon House,[346] is larger, and the Prince is shown at full-length. It resembles the two others in most particulars, and appears to be based on the same original drawing, though the sitter looks somewhat younger. He is wearing a jacket of patterned cloth of gold, and over it a crimson frock or coat embroidered with golden stripes. His head is covered with a white-edged, striped skull-cap, beneath which a fringe of fair hair falls on the forehead; over this is worn a red hat with a dark feather in it. Thick-soled, broad-toed shoes complete his costume. He is standing on a green velvet cloth edged with gold, which is thrown over an ornamental stone tablet containing, as in the other versions, Morysin’s Latin verses. The background is a dark green curtain. It is painted on panel, 4 ft. 3 in. high by 2 ft. 5 in. wide.

This picture has suffered considerably from rubbing and cleaning. The preliminary chalk drawing can be plainly seen through the thin painting. The position of the hands—which are beautifully painted—is somewhat altered, and the child is without his rattle. In one corner of the tablet is inscribed “Edwardus Princeps,” and in the other “Filius Henrici 8,” now almost obliterated. Mr. Wornum[347] thought it probable that this was the New Year’s gift picture, as the child appears to be a little younger than in the Hanover and Yarborough versions, and with a still brighter expression of face.

Vol. II., Plate 22
EDWARD VI
1538-9
Lord Yarborough’s Collection

All three pictures seem to have been based upon the same drawing 167in the Windsor Collection, in which the Prince is shown full-face, as a young child, with a close skull-cap, and a black cap with a feather above it, and a single frill round his neck.[348] This drawing has been badly rubbed. There is a second drawing in the same collection, also full-face, with hair cut closely across the forehead, and a plain black hat (Pl. 23).[349] This, too, has suffered considerable damage. The strong brush-work of the outlines stands out with undue emphasis, owing to the destruction of the more delicate modelling of the crayons. In this drawing the Prince appears to be at least a couple of years older than in the other drawing, or in the Hanover picture and its variants. He looks quite four or five years old. Mr. Wornum thought it might represent Henry Brandon, afterwards Duke of Suffolk, from its likeness to the boy in Holbein’s beautiful miniature, the proportions of the face not quite agreeing with those of the infant Prince;[350] but it is undoubtedly a portrait of the latter.

There is a third drawing of Edward VI at Windsor, in which he seems to be quite six, if not older. It is one of the least pleasing of the series, and if by Holbein, must be almost the last drawing he made, as the Prince was but six when the painter died. He is shown in profile to the left, with hat and feather, and almost yellow hair.[351] Several portraits exist which are based on this drawing, though they are not by Holbein, among the best of them being the versions in the National Portrait Gallery,[352] the Victoria and Albert Museum,[353] and the collection of Lord Sackville. The last-named was at the Burlington Fine Arts Club in 1909 (No. 60). In this the Prince has golden hair, a black cap with a white plume, and a purple gown lined with white fur over a pale pink doublet. His right hand, raised, holds a rose, and his gloves are in his left. The background is a greenish blue.

There is a very interesting drawing in coloured crayons by Holbein in the Basel Gallery,[354] which is described as a portrait of Edward VI, and bears considerable likeness to the various paintings and drawings in England. The face, however, is decidedly longer and more oval 168in shape than in the Windsor drawings; but much of the delicate modelling of the flesh has vanished during the passage of time, so that it is difficult to speak with absolute certainty as to the likeness. Most probably the attribution is the correct one. The boy, who appears to be about five years old, is dressed in a princely costume, and is holding a meerkat in the bend of his right arm, and stroking its back with his left hand. There is no portrait known which follows this drawing.

Upon one of the leaves of Holbein’s sketch-book, preserved in the Basel Gallery, there is a delightful little circular drawing of Edward when a small child,[355] evidently of about the same date as the Hanover portrait. His costume is much the same as in the pictures described, and he is seated on a cushion on the grass, fondling a small dog with his left hand. The background on either side of him is filled in with branches of oak with acorns. It may have been the first study for a miniature, or possibly a design for a medallion or hat-badge to be carried out in gold-and-enamel by one of Holbein’s goldsmith friends. In spite of its small size the likeness is evident.

The scope of this book does not permit any attempt to give a detailed list of the numerous portraits of the young prince painted after the death of Holbein, in which he is represented at an age varying from about ten to sixteen, some of them being works of very considerable merit. In the days when it was believed that Holbein lived until 1554, all these portraits were attributed to him, whereas now some other authorship must be sought. It is known that Guillim Stretes, the Dutch painter, was responsible for at least two of these portraits of the young King. According to Strype,[356] in 1551 Stretes was paid by the Privy Council “fifty marks for recompence of three great tables, made by the said Guillim, whereof two were the pictures of his Highness sent to Sir Thomas Hoby and Sir John Mason (ambassadors abroad); the third a picture of the late Earl of Surrey, attainted, and by the council’s commandant fetched from the said Guillim’s house.” In 1553 “Gillam Strettes, Dutchman,” was the King’s painter, in receipt of the high salary of £62, 10s. a year, and he continued in favour during the reign of Queen Mary.

169

Vol. II., Plate 23
EDWARD, PRINCE OF WALES
Drawing in black and coloured chalks
Windsor Castle

The excellent little bust portrait of Edward, formerly in the possession of the Cokayne family at Rushton Hall, Northamptonshire, which was lent by Lord Aldenham to the Burlington Fine Arts Club in 1909 (No. 63), has been attributed to this painter. It is dated 1550. Mr. Roger E. Fry,[357] on account of the delicate and personal scheme of blonde and cool colouring which it displays, considers this portrait to be by the same hand as the portraits of Henry VIII and Jane Seymour, lent to the same exhibition (Nos. 21 and 46) by Lord Sackville, which have been mentioned in an earlier chapter.[358] Others exist of the same type to which Stretes’ name has been provisionally given. The Duke of Portland has a fine small full-length, undated,[359] probably from the same hand as Lord Aldenham’s panel; another whole-length belongs to Mr. Vernon J. Watney, while a third is at Southam Delabere, near Cheltenham. A very interesting portrait of a different type is at Petworth, an elaborately-painted likeness of the young King at full-length, seated on his throne, with a canopy over his head, which is dated 1547, when he was in his tenth year. This is attributed by Mr. Wornum to Stretes.[360] There is another in Christ’s Hospital which closely resembles it, and in the same building there is a second portrait of the Prince at the age of nine. There is also a fine example in the Royal Collection at Windsor Castle,[361] in which the head is of the same type as that in Lord Aldenham’s picture. It is apparently by the same hand as that of the Princess Elizabeth, also at Windsor, and whether by Stretes or not, seems to be of Franco-Flemish origin. The large picture at Bridewell Hospital, representing Edward VI transferring Bridewell Palace to the City of London, was regarded in Walpole’s day as an excellent example of Holbein’s brush, and both he and Vertue, who engraved it in 1750, asserted that one of the figures in the background represented Holbein himself.[362] The occurrence which the picture commemorates, however, took place in 1553, ten years after Holbein’s death. This picture, too, has been tentatively given to Stretes, but it is a work of no great mastery, 170though of undoubted historical interest. Descriptions of other portraits of Edward VI will be found in a paper contributed by Mr. J. Gough Nichols, F.S.A., to Archæologia.[363] No less than sixteen, of varying degrees of merit, were lent to the Tudor Exhibition in 1890. In the inventory of King Henry VIII’s pictures made shortly after his death, dated September 8, 1547, three of the earlier portraits of the young Prince of Wales were included. Two of these were full-lengths: “The Kynge’s Majestie, the whole stature, in a gowne like crymsen satten furred with lusernes,” which was protected by a curtain of white sarcenet; and “The Kynge’s Majesty, the whole stature, stayned upon clothe” (i.e. canvas), with a curtain of green sarcenet. The first named was not included in the earlier list of King Henry’s pictures drawn up in 1542, but the latter is in that inventory, and so must have been painted before 1542, and thus represented Edward as a little child. The third portrait is merely described as “The Kynge’s Majestie.” This may have been the curious “perspective” portrait of the young Prince, now in the National Portrait Gallery (No. 1300),[364] a head within a circle surrounded by a well-painted landscape, done in 1546, which has been attributed to Stretes. According to Walpole,[365] who considered it to be the work of Marc Willems, “Gulielmus pinxit” was written on the frame. It formed part of the Royal collections from the time it was painted, but was sold by the Commonwealth in 1650 for £2. It was seen in Whitehall and described by the German traveller, Paul Hentzner, in 1598. Two miniatures of Edward were lent to the Burlington Fine Arts Club Exhibition (Case C, 13 and 19) by the Duke of Buccleuch, but these are not by Holbein.

Henry VIII’s fresh matrimonial negotiations with Protestant Germany—Christopher Mont sent to the Court of the Duke of Saxony with reference to a political alliance and the King’s marriage—Anne of Cleves and her sister—Portraits of them by Lucas Cranach—Difficulties in obtaining portraits of the ladies—Richard Beard and Holbein go over to Düren for that purpose—The written descriptions of Anne—The legend woven round Holbein’s portrait of her—Henry’s disappointment on Anne’s arrival in England—Description of the portrait in the Louvre—Miniature in the Salting Collection—Drawing at Windsor—Portrait in St. John’s College, Oxford.

WITH the exception of works executed for his royal master, such as the “Duchess of Milan” and the lost French portraits, the likeness of the infant Prince Edward, and that of Anne of Cleves, there is nothing by Holbein which can be ascribed with absolute certainty to the years 1538 and 1539.[366] It is possible that the portraits of Thomas Howard, Duke of Norfolk, and his son, Henry, Earl of Surrey, were produced in the latter year, but no dated likeness by him is known of any member of the court circle, or, indeed, of any Englishman or German, painted during these two years. It is true that more than one of his undated works may be of this period, but there is no actual proof, beyond that of style, in favour of such a contention. This may be accounted for to some extent by his frequent absences from England on the King’s business, which would leave him less time than usual for private practice, while there is also the possibility that at least some of the works he produced during these two years have been lost.

By the beginning of 1539, when alarms of war were in the air, and the alliance between Francis and the Emperor was growing closer every week, Henry had abandoned all idea of a marriage in France or with the Duchess of Milan, and was turning his thoughts towards 172Protestant Germany. The project of this fresh matrimonial venture was not entirely a new one; it was under consideration during the previous summer in the midst of the more active negotiations elsewhere. There is a curious passage in one of Eustace Chapuys’ letters to the Emperor, dated London, 17th June 1538, in which he infers that Henry had grown less anxious for the Milan match because the Germans were making him offers. “Indeed it is a fact,” he says, “that about that time the King sent to Germany a painter (ung paintre) and one gentleman of his chamber for the express purpose of pourtraying the personages ‘au naturel’; for, although Cromwell at first denied this, or at least dissembled, he afterwards owned to me (Chapuys) that the report was true, that both from France and Germany several marriages had been proposed.” These marriages, he adds, according to report, were to be between the son of the Duke of Cleves and the Princess Mary, and Henry and one of the Duke’s kinswomen.[367]

This is the only reference in the State Papers to the despatch of one of the King’s painters to Germany in the earlier part of 1538, but it is interesting as containing a possible reference to Holbein and to some journey of his of which we have no further knowledge. It is much more likely, however, that Chapuys was misinformed, and that no such expedition actually took place, though it may have been suggested but afterwards abandoned.

About the middle of January 1539, Christopher Mont, or Mount, a German in Henry’s service, was sent abroad with letters of credence to the Duke of Saxony and the Landgrave. The ostensible purpose of his mission was to promote the attempted agreement between the English and German divines which had been the subject of numerous conferences in the previous year; but the real object was to find out to what extent Henry might rely upon the German Protestant princes in any trouble which might arise between England and the Pope or Emperor. At the same time, Mont, who was accompanied by Thomas Paynell, took with him private instructions from Cromwell, which included a secret message to Francis Burgartus,[368] the Duke of Saxony’s vice-chancellor, with respect to a marriage between the young Duke of Cleves and the Princess Mary, which he and Cromwell had discussed in London in the previous year. If, the instructions ran, Burgartus desire “the picture of her face,” Mont is to remind him that she is a 173King’s daughter, and that it was not the custom to send the picture of persons of such degree abroad. Burgartus, too, had seen her, and could testify of her proportion, countenance, and beauty. But there was a matter of still greater importance about which Mont was to sound the vice-chancellor, whose master, the Duke of Saxony, had married the eldest daughter of the Duke of Cleves, and was one of the most interested parties in any alliance proposed between England and Germany. Mont was to inquire diligently of the beauty and qualities of the elder of the two unmarried daughters of the Duke of Cleves, her shape, stature, and complexion, and, if he heard she was such “as might be likened unto his Majesty,” he was to throw out suggestions as to a marriage between her and the King. The proposal, however, must come from the side of Cleves, as the overtures made to his Grace in France and Flanders had not been finally refused. Mont, in short, was not to speak as if demanding her, “but rather to give them a prick to offer her;” but first of all, “it is expedient that they should send her picture hither.”[369] In this way the Princess Anne of Cleves first appears on the scene, and the Duchess of Milan, and the ladies of Guise and other royal French houses finally vanish from it.

Shortly afterwards other diplomatists were sent abroad for the same purpose. Dr. Barnes went over to Frankfurt to attend the diet of the Evangelic League, while Dr. Edward Carne and Dr. Nicholas Wootton, together with Richard Byrd, Bird, or Beard, one of the gentlemen of the King’s Chamber, were despatched to Düren, to the court of the young Duke of Cleves, whose father had recently died. Their instructions were very similar to those given to Mont. They were to offer an offensive and defensive league and an English bride to the Duke, but were merely to throw out hints with regard to Anne. Here again they were to demand a picture of the lady before the match could be considered, for Henry was always most anxious to see what his proposed bride was like before committing himself too far.[370] If she were ill-favoured he would have none of her, however useful for political reasons such an alliance might prove to be. A portrait was always asked for, but was by no means always considered sufficient. The King feared that such pictures might flatter the subject, and so it became his habit, in order to avoid such possibilities, to send over one of his own painters to procure an independent likeness. 174Holbein, in particular, he knew to be capable of bringing back a true portrait, more valuable in all ways than the efforts of some unknown foreign painter, or the written opinions of his ambassadors, whose taste might not always agree with his own.

Mont, after an interview with the Duke of Saxony, wrote to Cromwell to say that he seemed favourable to the proposed marriage, and that he promised to send a portrait as soon as possible, but said that “his painter Lucas was sick at home.” “Everyone,” he added, “praises the lady’s beauty, both of face and body. One said she excelled the Duchess (of Milan) as the golden sun did the silver moon.”[371] The Lucas referred to in this letter was Lucas Cranach the elder, and if it had not been for his illness Holbein might not have been sent over, for Cranach, no doubt, would have painted a portrait which would have satisfied the King. Towards the end of April, Cromwell wrote to Beard and Wootton, again urging them to get a portrait of the lady, which the former was to bring to London as quickly as possible.[372] In their reply, dated May 3—the letter, unfortunately, is badly mutilated—they describe a recent interview with Dr. Henry Olisleger, the vice-chancellor of Cleves, the young Duke being away at the Diet. “He said also he would cause the portraits of both the Duke’s younger sisters to be delivered to us in fourteen days. They were made, he said, half a year before. We said there was no occasion to declare the King’s goodwill to the Duke, which was manifest.... And as for the ij pictures, we wer verye w[ell] contentyd to receyve theym, and specyallye the imaige of my l[ady Anne] ... that yf eny of bothe shulde lyke his Grace ... yet wolde we gladdelye receyve and sende bothe. [And for a]s muche as we hadde not seene the ij ladyes, we shulde [not be] able to advertise his Majestye whether theyr imaiges were [l]yke to theyr persones, and so shulde his Majestye be never the nerre by the syht of the pictures.” Dr. Olisleger, however, assured them that the portraits were faithful likenesses, but the ambassadors were not satisfied. “We sayde, we hadde not seene theym, for to see but a parte of theyr faces, and that under such a monstruouse habyte and apparell, was no syght, neither of theyr faces nor of theyr persones. Why, quod he, wolde yow see theym nakydde?” What they said in answer to this last remark is lost through the mutilation of the letter, but they evidently did not approve of the court costume 175of Cleves. They concluded by saying: “A Moneday, God willing, we wylle departe to Duisseldorpe, and, excepte the Duke have enye bysynesse with us, we wyll thence to Coleyn, where we ar apoyntyd to receyve the said ij pictures, the which we wille send ynto England as soone as we canne convenyently.”[373]

In spite of these constant demands for portraits, the ambassadors do not appear to have received them at the time promised. Early in July Dr. William Petre, one of the Clerks of Chancery, was sent to Cleves with further messages and instructions to Dr. Wootton. The new ambassador and the old were to make a further demand to see the ladies, and if Beard had not already started with the portraits, they were to send them “if they may be possible gotten,” with their opinion of them as likenesses.[374]

Beard was back in London for a short time in July, but whether he came empty-handed or not there is no record to show. It is possible that he brought with him the two portraits promised by Olisleger, which were to be handed to him at Cologne. There is a portrait of Anne in England, described below, which may be one of the two in question, but in any case it cannot have satisfied Henry, for Beard was sent back almost immediately to Düren, taking Holbein with him, in order that he might paint the two sisters. They were allowed £40 for travelling expenses, while Holbein received a further sum of £13, 6s. 8d. for his own personal outlay in connection with his craft.

The following is the entry in the Treasurer’s accounts:

“July, Ao xxxi—Item, to Mr. Richard Bearde, one of the gromes of the Kingis privi-chambre, and Hans Holbyn, paynter, by like lettre sent into the parties of High Almayne upon certain his gracis affaires, for the costes and chardgis of them both, xl. li. And to Hans Holben, for the preparation of such thingis as he is appoynted to carie with him, xiij. li. vi.s. viiid.—in alle the some of liij li. vi.s. viiid.”[375]

According to Dr. Woltmann, the extra fee of £13, 6s. 8d. paid to Holbein for “the preparation of such things as he is appointed to carry with him,” was, “without doubt a portrait of the King, perhaps a miniature in a costly frame, which he had to paint and to present to the Princess as a gift from his monarch.”[376] This explanation, 176however, is not at all likely to be the correct one. As already pointed out, Henry never sent portraits of himself to the lady he was preparing to honour with his hand until he had first of all seen what she herself was like. He was too cautious a lover to commit himself so far. In all these transactions he was the one who was to be sought, and the first offer must come from the lady’s side. The simplest explanation is that the money was for the provision of the necessary painting materials, and the cost of their carriage. The sum was, no doubt, a large one if for such a purpose alone, but Holbein was then high in the King’s favour, and well paid for all that he did, while his absence from England on the royal business put an end for the time to his general practice, and this might have been considered in fixing the amount of his allowance.

The travellers reached the castle of Düren, where the ladies were living, early in August, and Holbein at once set to work. He had finished portraits of both Anne and her sister Amelia before the 11th of the month, as we learn from a letter of that date from Dr. Wootton to Henry VIII. In the course of it he says: “Your Grace’s servant Hanze Albein hathe taken th’effigies of my ladye Anne and the ladye Amelye and hath expressyd theyr imaiges verye lyvelye.”[377]

It seems probable that in this instance Holbein did more than make mere studies in crayons such as he had done in the case of the Duchess of Milan and the French ladies; and the fact that the portrait of Anne of Cleves, now in the Louvre, is on parchment fastened down on a wood panel affords some proof of this. The portrait would be painted on the parchment directly from the sitter, and afterwards mounted and the finishing touches given to it. Owing to the haste required, and the safer conveyance of the portrait, the latter process was probably not carried out until the artist was back in London.

No time appears to have been wasted. Henry not only demanded but obtained speed from his servants on their numerous journeys. Travelling post, the journey to and from Düren, which was usually made via Antwerp, took about eleven days. Holbein was in England again before the end of August, as we learn from Marillac, the new French ambassador, who, on September 1, writing from Grafton, where he had followed the King fifty miles from London, informed 177Francis I that he “has learnt that an excellent painter whom this King sent to Germany to bring the portrait of the sister of the Duke of Cleves, recently arrived in Court, and, immediately afterwards, a courier, bringing, among other news which is still kept secret, news that the said Duke’s ambassadors have started to come hither to treat and conclude the marriage of this King and the said lady.”[378]

The proposed marriage afforded opportunity for much speculation on the part of the King’s subjects, as more than one of his earlier matrimonial projects had done. An excellent idea of the kind of gossip which prevailed can be gathered from the evidence taken in the case of a certain George Constantyne, who talked so much that he got himself charged with treason. It occurs in the report of a conversation between Constantyne and the Dean of Westbury during a journey they made together to South Wales, and in the course of it Holbein’s visit to Cleves is mentioned. “The Dean asked also if Constantyne had any news of the King’s marriage. Replied, he could not tell; he was sorry to see the King so long without a queen, when he might yet have many fair children: his own father was ninety-two years old, and yet, last summer, rode thirty-two miles one day before two o’clock, and said he was not weary; the duchess of Milan and that of Cleif were both spoken of, as the Dean knew. Asked, ‘How call ye the little doctor that is gone to Cleif?’ The Dean said, it was Dr. Woten, and that he that was with him of the Privy Chamber, whom Woten sent home lately, was Berde; adding that this Berde was sent thither again with the King’s painter, and that there was good hope of the marriage, for the duke of Cleif favoured God’s word and was a mighty prince now, having possession of Gelderland against the Emperor’s will.... Said also that the matter of the duchess of Milan was really broken off, for she would have the King accept the bishop of Rome’s dispensation and give pledges. ‘Why pledges?’ asked the Dean. ‘Marry,’ said Constantyne, ‘she sayeth that the King’s Majesty was in so little space rid of the Queens, that she dare not trust his Council, though she durst trust his Majesty; for her Council suspecteth that her great aunt was poisoned, that the second was innocently put to death, and the third lost for lack of keeping her in childbed.’ Added, that he was not sure whether this was her answer or that of Cleif, but that he heard a muttering of it before Whitsuntide.”[379] 178It will be seen from this gossip that the legend respecting the Duchess of Milan’s refusal to accept Henry because she had fear for the safety of her head was commonly believed at the time.

The written descriptions of Anne which Henry received from his representatives and agents were all favourable, but not enthusiastic. Wootton in the letter referring to Holbein, already quoted, says of her: “She has been brought up with the lady Duchess her mother (as the lady Sybille also was till she was married and the lady Amelye has been and is) and in manner never from her elbow, the lady Duchess being a wise lady and one that very straitly looketh to her children. All report her to be of very lowly and gentle conditions, by the which she hath so much won her mother’s favour that she is very loth to suffer her to depart from her. ‘She occupieth her time most with the needle, wherewithall she.... She canne reede and wryte her ... Frenche, Latyn, or other langaige she [hathe no] ne, nor yet she canne not synge nor playe [upon] enye instrument, for they take it heere in Germanye for a rebuke and an occasion of lightenesse that great ladyes shold be lernyd or have enye knowledge of musike.’ Her wit is good and she will no doubt learn English soon when she puts her mind to it. ‘I could never hear that she is inclined to the good cheer of this country and marvel it were if she should, seeing that her brother, to whom yet it were somewhat more tolerable, doth so well abstain from it.’”[380]

Sir Michael Mercator, the German factor of musical instruments, knighted by Henry, wrote to Cromwell later in the year, giving praise to God “for this alliance with the most illustrious, beautiful, and noble lady Anna de Clefves, who has a great gift from God, both of sense and wit. It would be difficult to describe her good manners and grace, and how Gueldres, Cleves, and all the country of the Duke, rejoice at the alliance.”[381]

Around Holbein’s portrait of Anne there has been woven a legend which upon examination is found to have no foundation in fact. The story is to be traced back to Bishop Burnet, who, in his History of the Reformation, says:[382] “Hans Holbin having taken her picture, sent it over to the king. But in that he bestowed the common compliment of his art somewhat too liberally on a lady that was in a fair way to 179be queen the king liked the picture better than the original, when he had the occasion afterwards to compare them.” Instead of the promised beauty, continues the bishop, they brought him over a “Flanders mare.”

Walpole, following Burnet, elaborates this: “Holbein was next despatched by Cromwell to draw the lady Anne of Cleve, and by practising the common flattery of his profession, was the immediate cause of the destruction of that great subject, and of the disgrace that fell on the princess herself. He drew so favourable a likeness, that Henry was content to wed her; but when he found her so inferior to the miniature, the storm which really should have been directed at the painter, burst on the minister; and Cromwell lost his head, because Anne was a Flanders mare, not a Venus, as Holbein had represented her.”[383]

There is no truth at all in this story. The leading characteristic of Holbein’s portraiture is its complete truth; he was not in the habit of flattering his sitters, and the portrait of Anne affords one of the most striking testimonies of this. He certainly did not paint her as a Venus, nor was Cromwell’s fall owing to the picture. He was, indeed, made Earl of Essex after the lady’s marriage to the King. Letters in the State Papers show very clearly that Henry complained only of the spoken and written words of his ambassadors, and made no mention of portraits. Russell, the Lord High Admiral, in his deposition in connection with the divorce, quoted Henry as saying to him: “How like you this woman? do you think her so fair and of such beauty as report hath been made unto me of her? I pray you tell me the truth.” Whereupon the said Lord Admiral answered, that he took her not for fair, but to be of a brown complexion. And the king’s highness said, “Alas! whom should men trust? I promise you,” said he, “I see no such thing in her as hath been showed me of her, and am ashamed that men hath praised her as they have done, and I like her not.” Stow, in quoting this, adds without authority the words: “either by pictures or report,” after “I see no such thing in her as hath been showed me of her.”

Stow, apparently drawing upon his own imagination, makes exaggerated references to the part portraits played in the negotiations for the marriage. “Some went over by the king, some by the Lord 180Cromwell, and some went voluntary, to view the Lady Anne of Cleave, and to negotiate her marriage with the king. All which, either by letters, speech, or both, made very large and liberal reports in praise of her singular feature, matchless beauty, and princely perfections, and for proof thereof presented the king with sundry of her pictures, which the bringers ever affirmed to have been truly made, without flattery.”[384]

Henry, however, in his own declaration, never refers to a portrait. He entered into the marriage, he said, “because I heard so much both of her excellent beauty and virtuous conditions.” In addition, he told Sir Anthony Browne, “I see nothing in this woman as men report of her, and I mervail that wise men would make such report as they have done.” He also told Cromwell, in reply to his question as to how he liked the lady, “Nothing so well as she was spoken of; if I had known as much before as I know now, she should never have come into the realm. But what remedy?”

After all, however, the praises of her sent home by Henry’s ambassadors were not very hearty ones. In Hutton’s letter from Brussels, already quoted,[385] written shortly after Jane Seymour’s death, in answer to a request that he would search for a possible bride for the King at the Court of the Regent, he reported, among other princesses, that “the Dewke of Clevis hathe a daughter, but I here no great preas neyther of hir personage nor beawtie.” Wootton’s account, given above, is a remarkably cautious one, and lays most stress on Anne’s domestic virtues. He had also complained that he had found it impossible to judge of the personal appearance of the two ladies on account of the ugly head-dresses they wore.

Had the fault been Holbein’s, he would, no doubt, have fallen under the King’s displeasure. At the least his appointment would have been taken from him, even if he had not been forced to leave England; but the contrary was the case. In September, after his return from Cleves, he received, for a second time, a whole year’s salary in advance. This was, of course, before the King had seen the original of the portrait; but, strangely enough, if the accounts are to be believed, in addition to this year’s advance, Holbein continued to receive his salary every quarter day for the next year, so that he was paid twice over.[386] It is thus very evident that the painter 181suffered no disgrace or lack of employment or patronage, so that the legend must be abandoned.

The fine portrait of Anne of Cleves now in the Louvre (Pl. 24) is in all probability the picture which Holbein painted in Düren.[387] It is almost three-quarter length, less than life-size. She is shown standing, facing the spectator, her hands folded in front of her, and dressed in a very elaborate costume. Her sumptuous gown of red velvet with wide hanging sleeves has heavy bands of gold embroidered with pearls. The bodice is cut square, and is edged with a band of ornament decorated with jewels, and a similar one round the neck with a pendant jewelled cross. She also wears two gold chains, and several rings on her fingers. The open front of the dress is filled in with fine white linen with bands of embroidery. Her hair is covered with an almost transparent head-dress worked with an elaborate pattern and the motto “A bon fine,” over which is a cap wrought all over with gold, pearls, and other jewels. Her lace cuffs are also gold-embroidered. The background is blue-green, without inscription. Her brown eyes look straight at the spectator. More than one writer, influenced no doubt by these stories of her lack of beauty, has described this portrait as the likeness of a heavy, expressionless, ill-favoured woman; but this is far from being the case. Without any pretensions to extraordinary good looks, the face is a pleasant one, and by no means as plain as it has been described; indeed, in many ways it compares favourably with that of Queen Jane Seymour. That it is a truthful representation is certain, for Holbein never failed in this respect. Nothing is known of the history of the picture, or how it came to find a home in France, except that it was at one time in the Earl of Arundel’s possession,[388] and afterwards in the collection of Louis XIV.

Walpole speaks of the portrait done by Holbein in Düren as a miniature. He was inclined to believe that the beautiful miniature of Anne, now in the Salting Collection at South Kensington, which in his days belonged to the Barretts of Lee Priory, was the very miniature painted by Holbein on this occasion. “This very picture,” he says, “as is supposed, was in the possession of Mr. Barrett, of Kent.... The print among the illustrious heads is taken from it: and so far 182justifies the king, that he certainly was not nice, if from that picture he concluded her handsome enough. It has so little beauty, that I should doubt of its being the very portrait in question—it rather seems to have been drawn after Holbein saw a little with the king’s eyes. I have seen that picture in the cabinet of the present Mr. Barrett, of Lee, and think it the most exquisitely perfect of all Holbein’s works as well as in the highest preservation. The print gives a very inadequate idea of it, and none of her Flemish fairness. It is preserved in the ivory box in which it came over, and which represents a rose, so delicately carved as to be worthy of the jewel it contains.”[389]

It is not known in what way this miniature,[390] together with the companion portrait of Henry VIII,[391] in a similar ivory box, in the late Mr. Pierpont Morgan’s collection, came into the possession of the Barrett family. They were offered for sale by auction in 1757, but bought in; and subsequently sold by Mr. T. B. Barrett in 1826 to a dealer named Tuck, who resold them for fifty guineas to Francis Douce, by whom they were bequeathed, in 1834, to Sir Samuel Rush Meyrick, of Goodrich Court. At a later date the miniature of Anne of Cleves was bequeathed by General Meyrick to Miss Davies, from whom it was acquired by the late Mr. George Salting. This miniature follows very closely the portrait in the Louvre, though there are slight differences in the details and colour of the dress. The background is blue, without inscription. It is in water-colours, and is 1¾ in. in diameter. It was from this miniature, which is regarded as an undoubted work by Holbein, that Houbraken engraved, in 1739, the portrait of Anne for his “Illustrious Heads.”

When the Louvre picture was in the Arundel Collection it was etched by Hollar, but reversed. This print is 9¼ in. by 7 in., and is dated 1648 and inscribed—“Anna Clivensis, Henrici VIII Regis Angliæ Uxor IIIIta. H Holbein pinxit. Wenceslaus Hollar fecit aqua forti, ex Collectione Arundeliana, A. 1648.”[392]

Vol. II., Plate 24
ANNE OF CLEVES
1539
Louvre, Paris

183There are several other portraits in existence which are said, with little authority, to represent Anne of Cleves; among them a drawing in the Windsor Collection,[393] which appears at one time to have become separated from the others. It came into the possession of Dr. Meade, and at his sale in 1755 was bought by Mr. Chetwynd. After the latter’s death it was restored by his executors to the royal collection. It bears little or no resemblance to the Louvre portrait, and is almost certainly a likeness of some English lady. She is shown full-face, with a close-fitting cap covering the ears, and a hat over it. The drawing has been damaged by having been cut out round the outline. The face is a refined one. There are notes in German as to the material and colours of the dress, and the pattern of the Spanish work on the collar is drawn in detail on the margin. It has no inscription. In the National Portrait Exhibition at South Kensington in 1865, a small head of “Anne of Cleves” was exhibited by the Earl of Derby. It was in oil on panel, oval, about 3 in. by 2½ in., and signed “H. H.” It had been injured, and was then in a somewhat dirty condition; the face had considerable likeness to the Louvre picture.[394]

There is, however, one other portrait in addition to the Louvre panel which is a contemporary likeness of Anne of Cleves, though not by Holbein. This is the small picture in St. John’s College, Oxford, a fine work by some unknown painter of the Flemish School. It is a half-length, standing three-quarters to the left, behind a parapet upon which lie an orange and a pair of jewelled gloves. The head-dress is of cloth of gold and white gauze, the latter worked with the motto, “A bon fine,” as in the Louvre picture. She is wearing a low-cut dress of striped gold and black, filled in with white with embroidered bands, gold and jewelled necklaces, and a pendant cross, and several rings on her fingers. Her left hand is placed against her waistbelt, and in her right she holds three carnations. The background is dark, with a small canopy or curtain over her head. It is on panel with arched top, 19¾ in. by 14¼ in. The costume is of the same style and period as the Louvre portrait, though it differs in numerous small details, more particularly in the colours of the materials, the shape of the sleeves, and the jewelled bands of the head-dress. The general tone of colour is golden, and there is excellent painting in all the details of 184the elaborate costume. It was included in the Oxford Exhibition of Historical Portraits in 1904 (No. 30), and was one of the most interesting pictures in the collection.[395] As a likeness it bears a strong resemblance to Holbein’s portrait, and if not of Anne may well be of her sister. The suggestion may be hazarded that it is one of the two portraits, painted six months before Holbein and Beard were in Düren, which Olisleger had promised to procure for Henry VIII’s ambassadors, portraits which Beard, apparently, took with him to London early in July 1539.

There is no need even to touch upon the concluding stages of this miserable story, with which Holbein had nothing to do. Henry married Anne at Greenwich on January 6, 1540, and finally divorced her on July 12 in the same year. She settled at Richmond in the enjoyment of the rank of a princess and a pension of £3000 a year, and survived the King by ten years, dying in 1557.

Holbein’s work at Whitehall—His residence in the parish of St. Andrew Undershaft—In high favour at court—Payments of his salary—Possible visit to Basel—Portraits and miniatures of Catherine Howard—Portraits of the Duke of Norfolk—The Earl of Surrey—Unknown men at Berlin and Vienna—Unknown Englishman at the Hague—Earl of Southampton—Unknown man, aged 54, at Berlin—Unknown English lady at Vienna—Simon George—Dr. John Chamber—Sir William and Lady Butts—Unknown Englishman at Basel—Young English lady in the collection of Count Lanckoronski—Lady Rich—Holbein’s self-portraits—A newly-discovered one at Basel—Portraits, now lost, etched by Hollar—The Duke of Buckingham’s Collection.

Though there is no actual evidence in support of the statement of the older writers that Holbein, after he entered the royal service, had the use of a permanent studio in Whitehall Palace, granted to him by the King, there is every possibility that such was the case. “One of the earliest of the famous non-royal residents in Whitehall Palace,” says Dr. Edgar Sheppard, “was the artist Holbein. He had been presented to Henry VIII by Sir Thomas More, and the King assigned him a permanent suite of apartments in Whitehall, and commissioned him to paint the interior of the new Palace, for which work he received two hundred florins per annum.”[396] While the great wall-painting in the Privy Chamber was in progress, it would be necessary for him to have a room for his own use within the building, for the storage of the materials required for the work, and it is not impossible that he was permitted to retain the room as his own, perhaps one of those over the so-called “Holbein’s Gate,” for the short remainder of his life, more particularly as his practice was almost entirely confined to the court, so that a studio in Whitehall would best suit the convenience both of the painter and his sitters.[397] That he had a “permanent suite of apartments” there, as Dr. Sheppard states, is much less probable. This would indicate residence, whereas it is known 186that during his last years he occupied a house in the east of London.

It is doubtful, too, whether Holbein carried out any important decorative work in the Palace beyond the famous wall-painting already described.[398] According to a curious entry in Pepys’ Diary, under the date August 28, 1668, which is not easy to understand, the room known as the Matted Gallery had a painted ceiling of Holbein’s handiwork. The passage runs as follows: “With much difficulty, by candle-light, walked over the matted gallery, as it is now with the mats and boards all taken up, so that we walked over the rafters. But strange to see how hard matter the plaister of Paris is, that is there taken up, as hard as stone! And pity to see Holben’s work in the ceiling blotted on, and only whited over!” The exact sense of the concluding words is not very clear, but Pepys appears to mean that the ceiling had been formerly painted by Holbein, and that, having become damaged in course of time, it had recently been given a coat of whitewash. The ceiling was probably decorated with coloured plaster-work in relief, and though Holbein may have supplied the design, and may even have been responsible for the painting, it is much more likely that the plaster-work itself was done by some Italian, such as Nicolas Beilin of Modena, who had carried out similar undertakings at Fontainebleau.

The legend that Holbein also painted a “Dance of Death,” composed of life-size figures, upon the walls of one of the rooms in Whitehall, is probably pure fiction, or, at least, there is much less to be said in its favour than for Pepys’ attribution of the ceiling in the Matted Gallery to the painter. The writer who first gave currency to the story was Francis Douce, in his “Dance of Death,” published in 1833. According to his statement, “very soon after the calamitous fire at Whitehall in 1697,[399] which consumed nearly the whole of that palace, a person, calling himself T. Nieuhoff Piccard, probably belonging to 187the household of William III, and a man who appears to have been an amateur artist,”[400] made etchings after nineteen of the cuts in the Lyon “Dance of Death.” Impressions of these etchings, accompanied with manuscript dedications, are said to have been presented by this Piccard to his friends and patrons, and among others to a Mynheer Heymans, and to the “high, noble, and well-born Lord William Denting, Lord of Rhoon, Pendreght,” &c. In these addresses Piccard speaks of a “wall-painting” of the “Dance” by Holbein which he himself had seen in Whitehall. In the dedication to Heymans he says:

“Sir,—The costly palace of Whitehall, erected by Cardinal Wolsey, and the residence of King Henry VIII, contains, among other performances of art, a Dance of Death, painted by Holbein in its galleries, which, through an unfortunate conflagration, has been reduced to ashes.”

In the dedication to “Lord William Benting” Piccard is more precise:

“Sir,—In the course of my constant love and pursuit of works of art, it has been my good fortune to meet with that scarce little work of Hans Holbein neatly engraved on wood, and which he himself had painted as large as life in fresco on the walls of Whitehall.”

As far as can be ascertained, there is not the slightest truth in this legend. Nothing is known as to the identity of Heymans, but Lord William Benting was evidently William Bentinck (1704-1774), of Rhoon and Pendrecht in Holland, and Terrington St. Clements, Norfolk, third son of Hans William Bentinck, first Earl of Portland, and a Count of the Holy Roman Empire. Douce, who gave undeserved authority to this story, made no attempt to trace the history of the manuscript “addresses” which accompanied the etchings, and though he saw them, does not say to whom they then belonged, or even in what language they were written. They may be safely set down as forgeries, as far as any wall-paintings of the “Dance of Death” by Holbein are concerned. Piccard, whoever he may have been, is the sole authority for the existence of these mythical works, which are not mentioned by Van Mander or Sandrart, or by any of the foreign travellers who visited this country in their descriptions of Whitehall, though the wall-painting of Henry VIII 188with his wife and parents in the same palace is more than once spoken of in such records in terms of high praise. Both Pepys and Evelyn are equally silent on the subject, though the latter mentions the “Dance of Death” woodcuts, and ascribes them to Holbein by name. “We have seen,” he says, “some few things cut in wood by the incomparable Hans Holbein the Dane, but they are rare and exceedingly difficult to come by; as his Licentiousnesse of the Friers and Nuns; Erasmus; Moriae Encomium; the Trial and Crucifixion of Christ; The Daunce Macchabree; the Mortis Imago, which he painted in great in the Church at Basil, and afterwards graved with no lesse art.”[401] What he says is by no means free from mistakes, but as, in speaking of a visit paid to Whitehall in 1656, he describes the condition of the large wall-painting of the two kings Henry VII and Henry VIII, and their consorts, it is not probable that he would have failed to mention any other important wall-paintings in the palace had they existed. Douce thought he had discovered a corroboration of Piccard’s story in an entry in Van der Doort’s catalogue of Charles I’s collection, which runs: “A little piece, where Death with a green garland about his head, stretching both his arms to apprehend a Pilate in the habit of one of the spiritual Prince-Electors of Germany. Copied by Isaac Oliver from Holbein”; but this, no doubt, was painted from the woodcut of the Elector in the Lyon “Dance of Death,” and not from a large wall-painting.

As already stated, though Holbein may have had a workroom within the precincts of Whitehall, his permanent home in London was elsewhere. The public records show that in 1541 he was living in the parish of St. Andrew Undershaft, in Aldgate Ward. How long he had been there is not known, but possibly for the greater part of his second sojourn in England. This information is contained in a subsidy roll for the City of London, dated 24th October, 33 Hen. VIII (1541). Among the “straungers” taxed were:

Why Holbein was obliged to pay twice the amount charged to Buttessey on an equal assessment of £30 a year is explained by the fact that in these subsidies it was usual to tax “lands, fees, and annuities,” at 189double the rate of goods. “In the royal accounts,” says Sir Augustus W. Franks, “the payments to Holbein are sometimes noticed as wages, sometimes as an annuity; while other payments of a similar kind, although fees or annuities, are included under the general term “wages,” and evidently looked upon as synonymous terms for the salaries paid by the King to various members of his household. In any case, the salary of Holbein, the painter, rendered him liable to be rated, as a foreigner, at the high amount above-mentioned.”[402] There can be no doubt that this Holbein of the subsidy roll was the artist. The amount of his fee, £30, corresponds with the salary he received from the royal purse, while Holbein’s will gives his place of residence as the parish of St. Andrew Undershaft.

According to a story told by Walpole, Holbein once resided in a house on London Bridge. He says: “The father of Lord Treasurer Oxford passing over London Bridge, was caught in a shower, and stepping into a goldsmith’s shop for shelter, he found there a picture of Holbein (who had lived in that house) and his family. He offered the goldsmith 100l. for it, who consented to let him have it, but desired first to show it to some persons. Immediately after happened the fire of London, and the picture was destroyed.”[403] This story is apparently a mere legend, and there is no evidence to support it; nor is it very probable that an important painting by Holbein would have remained in the same small house for more than one hundred and twenty years. Dallaway, in his notes to Walpole, includes in a supplementary list of works by Holbein in England a small picture of Holbein, his wife, four boys, and a girl, at Mereworth Castle, Kent, which he suggests may be either a repetition or the original picture of the London Bridge story; but in the first place, Holbein never had a family of four sons, and, secondly, the picture bears no traces of Holbein’s manner. He quotes Gilpin’s description of it: “As a whole, it has no effect; but the heads are excellent. They are not painted in the common flat style of Holbein, but with a round, firm, glowing pencil, and yet exact imitation of nature is preserved—the boys are very innocent, beautiful characters.” If some such “family” picture existed in London at that time, it is much more likely to have been a copy or a replica of the genuine family group in the Basel Gallery.

190The favour with which Holbein was now regarded at court is shown by the frequency with which he received a year’s or half a year’s salary in advance, a mark of royal condescension which was most unusual. Thus under “September Ao xxxi” (1539) is the following entry: “Item paide by the Kingis highnesse commaundement certefied by my lorde privyseales lettres to Hans Holbenne, paynter, in the advauncement of his hole yeres wagis beforehande, aftre the rate of xxx li. by yere, which yeres advauncement is to be accompted from this present Michaelmas, and shall ende ultimo Septembris next commynge, the somme of xxx li.”[404] Notwithstanding this payment in advance, it appears, as already pointed out,[405] from the four following quarterly entries in the accounts having reference to Holbein, from Michaelmas 1539 to Midsummer 1540, that he continued to receive his salary of £7, 10s. each quarter as usual.[406] If these entries are to be depended upon, he clearly received his money twice over, either by accident, owing to carelessness in the keeping of the King’s accounts, or of set purpose as a further reward for his services.

In September 1540 he received an advance of half a year: “September, Ao xxxii—Item paide to Hans Holbyn, the Kingis paynter, in advauncement of his wagis for one half yere beforehande, the same half yere accompted and reconned fromme Michaelmas last paste, the somme of xv li.” This time, however, he did not receive his salary twice over, for in the two following entries, at Michaelmas and Christmas, 1540, the accounts merely state: “Item, for Hans Holbyn, paynter, wages, nihil, quia prius per warrantum.” In the following March 1541 he again obtained a half-year’s advance: “March, Ao xxxii: Item paied to Hans Holben, the Kingis painter, in advauncement of his half yeres wages before hande, after the rate of xxx li. by yere, which half yere is accompted to beginne primo Aprilis Ao xxxij. domini Regis nunc, and shall ende ultimo Septembris then next ensuynge, the somme of xv li.” The two remaining entries of which we have record, at Lady Day and Midsummer following, are as follows: “Item for Hans Holben, paynter, wages, nil, quia praemanibus”; and “Item for Hans Holbyn, paynter, nihil, quia prius.” The volume of accounts closes with the payments for this quarter, and no details of the royal expenditure during the next two years and a half exist, so that there is no record of the salary Holbein received for the remaining years of his life. In a later volume of Tuke’s accounts, as treasurer of the household, extending from October, 35 Hen. VIII (1543) to November, 36 Hen. VIII (1544), the first quarterly payments are for Christmas 1543, and Holbein’s name does not occur in them, as he had then been dead for about two months. It is rather strange, however, that it does not appear among the Christmas payments with “Nihil quia mortuus” after it, as this was the usual procedure in case of death. This omission, however, may have been due to the fact that he had once again received his salary beforehand.

191The remaining years of Holbein’s life must have been busy ones, judging from the number of preliminary studies for portraits of the men and women of Henry’s court which exist in the Windsor Collection and in many of the great European museums. These drawings are all undated, and cover the whole period of his English career, but there are so many of them that his time must have been always fully occupied. It is strange, therefore, that so few of his finished portraits can be ascribed with any certainty to the year 1540. Although it was by no means his invariable custom to put the date on his paintings, yet this was his more usual practice, and there is no known picture by him which is inscribed 1540, though there are a few dated 1541 and 1542. Several portraits of the Howard family can be given with some certainty to the earlier year, but beyond this nothing has been so far discovered. It may be suggested, as some explanation of this, that Holbein paid another visit to Basel during the last quarter of 1540, as the two years’ leave of absence granted him by the Town Council came to an end in the middle of October. The Council, who had been paying his wife the promised yearly pension of forty gulden, expected him to make Basel his permanent residence on the completion of this further extension of leave. The terms of their agreement with him were fairly generous, and it is not to be supposed that the painter would risk losing his rights of citizenship and the stoppage of the pension to his wife through a total disregard of the Council’s wish. It seems possible, therefore, that he went over to Switzerland in order to make personal application for a further and longer leave of absence in England than the agreement of 1538 permitted. Unlike many of the foreign artists and artificers then resident in this country, 192he never became a naturalised British subject, and this, no doubt, was due to the fact that he was determined to end his days as a citizen of Basel, and regarded his residence here as merely a temporary one, and England as a profitable field which, as time passed, would become worked out. He could not, of course, foresee that he was to be suddenly cut down when a comparatively young man and still in the full maturity of his powers. At Michaelmas in the year in question he received half a year’s salary in advance, so that it was impossible for him to leave England permanently for some time to come.

In the summer of 1540 Holbein lost another of his English patrons. Henry formally divorced Anne of Cleves on the 12th of July, and on the 28th of the same month Thomas Cromwell, then Earl of Essex, who had been a good friend to the painter, was beheaded for high treason, after a period of eight years during which his influence with both King and Parliament had been paramount. During the same month Henry privately married Catherine, daughter of Lord Edmund Howard, a cousin of Anne Boleyn, and niece of Thomas, third Duke of Norfolk. By this marriage the Howards, and through them the Catholic party, regained that ascendancy in the councils of the King which had received a severe check at the fall of Anne Boleyn; and at least three members of this family were painted by Holbein. The new Queen was publicly acknowledged on August 8 at Hampton Court Palace.

Although it was to be supposed that Henry would employ Holbein to paint the portrait of his new queen, until quite recently the only known likeness of her from his brush was the miniature portrait in the royal collection at Windsor Castle, and the replica of it belonging to the Duke of Buccleuch. In 1909, however, the discovery was made by Mr. Lionel Cust of a genuine and very beautiful portrait of this Queen. In the Windsor miniature (Pl. 31 (4)),[407] which shows her in a similar position to the one in the newly-discovered picture, she is represented nearly to the waist, turned to the left, her hands folded in front of her, the left over the right. Her hair and eyes are brown, and she wears a circular hood of the then fashionable French pattern, with a fall of black velvet. Her square-cut bodice is of dark cloth of gold, 193with sleeves of grey-green silk embroidered with gold, and white ruffles with black embroidery. Round her neck, over the white cambric filling of the dress, falls an elaborate necklace of pearls, rubies, and sapphires. The background, which is bright blue, has no inscription. It is painted on the back of a playing card, the eight of diamonds, and is 2⅓ inches in diameter. The hands, and the lower part of the arms, are badly painted, and appear to be a later addition.

Nothing is known of its history, or as to the date of its acquisition, but it did not belong to the Crown in Tudor or Stuart days. Dr. Ganz describes it as badly over-painted, and possibly only a copy. Doubts have been thrown from time to time on its right to be called a portrait of Catherine Howard. Mr. Ernest Law considers the attribution to be “very problematical indeed,” and states that it “does not at all accord with the Holbein drawing inscribed as ‘Queen Katherine Howard.’”[408] In this he follows earlier writers. Nichols says that though the position and head-dress of the drawing agree with the miniature, “the features do not appear to correspond.”[409] It is difficult, however, to agree with them in this, for a careful comparison of the two makes it quite evident that they represent the same lady. The version belonging to the Duke of Buccleuch is almost identical with the Windsor miniature, but is a better work and slightly smaller, being only two inches in diameter. It was last publicly exhibited at the Burlington Fine Arts Club, in 1909.[410] It was formerly in the collection of the Earl of Arundel, and when there was etched by Hollar in 1646. It was afterwards owned by Jonathan Richardson the younger (1694-1771), and subsequently by Horace Walpole. Walpole describes it as: “Catherine Howard, a miniature, damaged, it was Richardson’s, who bought it out of the Arundelian collection. It is engraved among the Illustrious Heads [of Houbraken]; and by Hollar, who called it Mary, Queen of France, wife of Charles Brandon, Duke of Suffolk.”[411] In this he is wrong, for no name is attached to 194it in Hollar’s etching, and it was first identified as Catherine Howard by Mr. Cust. In his Description of Strawberry Hill, however, Walpole calls it merely “a lady painted by Holbein,” and says that it is “probably Mary Tudor, Queen of France, sister of Henry VIII, but among the Illustrious Heads called Catherine Howard.” According to Granger, it was Vertue who first named it Mary, Queen of France. The Duke of Buccleuch also possesses a small oil painting on panel, 5⅜ in. × 4½ in., which was likewise at the Burlington Fine Arts Club (Case C, 24). It is inscribed, by a hand later than that of the painter of the portrait, “Catherine Howard Henry VIII.” According to Scharf, this is “apparently a French work, and, indeed, thoroughly so in personal characteristics.”[412] It is in the style of Clouet, and the compilers of the Burlington Fine Arts Club catalogue suggest that it may represent Anne de Pisseleu, Duchesse d’Estampes.

The Windsor drawing[413] bears no inscription, and the sitter is turned to the right, as in Hollar’s engraving, instead of to the left, but otherwise it shows the same type of features, smooth auburn hair, and French cap or hood, as in the miniature. The dress, however, in Holbein’s usual fashion, is merely indicated with a few lines, showing a plain bodice cut square, filled in with white cambric, with a diamond-shaped opening revealing neck and bosom. It agrees in the same way with the newly-discovered portrait, of which, though reversed, it is evidently one of the preliminary studies. The identity with Catherine Howard is further proved, as Mr. Lionel Cust points out, by the family resemblance, plainly visible, in certain of the features, such as the over-accentuated lower jaw, to the portraits of her uncle, the Duke of Norfolk, and of his son, the ill-fated Earl of Surrey.

In 1898 the Trustees of the National Portrait Gallery acquired a portrait of Catherine Howard[414] at the sale of the Cholmondeley pictures at Condover Hall, Shropshire, which closely follows the Windsor drawing, although in the reverse position. The excellence of the painting of the hands, and of the details of the dress and jewels, led at first to the supposition that it might be a genuine work by Holbein 195which had undergone some damage and restoration, but closer examination proved that it was merely a careful contemporary school copy, or repetition of some lost original. It is inscribed “Etatis svæ 21,” which corresponds with the known facts of Catherine Howard’s life. In the summer of 1909 the original picture of which it is a copy was submitted to Mr. Cust, who recognised it at once as not only a portrait of Catherine Howard, but as most possibly a genuine work of the great master, which proved to be the case on the removal of much dirty varnish and some repaints.[415] It came from a private collection in the west of England, where it had formed part of a series of historical portraits which had been in the possession of the same family for several generations, and had been regarded at one time as a portrait of Eleanor Brandon, Countess of Cumberland, and at another as Princess Mary Tudor. It is now in Canada, in the collection of Mr. James H. Dunn.

Henry’s fifth Queen is shown seated, at a little more than half length, turned to the left. The hands are in the same position as in the miniature, though the fingers are more closely interlaced. Her hair is auburn, parted in the middle, and the eyes are blue-grey. She wears, too, a costume of a similar fashion, though of different materials. The circular French hood, with its heavy band of gold ornament and black fall, appears to be the same, but the dress is of black satin, with a square black velvet yoke across the bosom, open at the neck and turned back to show the white lining. A band or piping of gold ornament elaborately pierced, with pairs of gold tags at intervals, runs along the outer seam of the sleeves from shoulder to wrist, and the white ruffles are embroidered all over with a floral design in black. The ornaments she wears are of exceptional interest, as they afford actual evidence that Holbein not only painted portraits of royal ladies, but also designed their jewellery. Round her neck is a small necklace, set with pearls and diamonds, less heavy and elaborate than the one represented in the miniatures, and of greater beauty and delicacy of design, to which a large pendant jewel is attached. At her breast is a brooch from which hangs a circular jewel or medallion of chased gold work, with a large oblong diamond in the centre, on which is represented the story of Lot’s wife and the flight from Sodom. This 196jewel was designed for Catherine by Holbein. It corresponds exactly, as Mr. Cust points out, with a most characteristic study, a small roundel placed within an octagon, among the wonderful series of Holbein’s original drawings for jewellery in the Print Room of the British Museum,[416] and thus gives particular interest to a portrait which in all ways forms a very important addition to the master’s work, both on account of the brilliance of its execution and of its value as an historical document. Suspended from a chain round her waist hangs a still larger circular jewel, only the upper part of which is seen. That portion of the subject which is visible represents two angels with hands raised in adoration on either side of a crowned and bearded figure, most possibly the Almighty. The background of the portrait is a plain one, of Holbein’s favourite blue, across which is inscribed, as in the National Portrait Gallery copy, “Etatis svæ 21,” on either side of the head. It is on an oak panel 29 inches high by 20 inches wide. It must have been painted between August 1540, the date of her marriage, and November 1541, when she was deprived of her dignity as Queen, and forbidden to wear jewels; most probably in the latter year, according to Mr. Cust, which would correspond with her accepted age at the time of her marriage. Its importance and its genuineness have been accepted by such leading authorities as Dr. Bode, Dr. Friedländer, Dr. Paul Ganz, and Sir Sidney Colvin.

Catherine Howard’s reign as Queen of England was a short one. There is no need to describe her tragic fate in detail. Before the close of the year 1541 it was discovered that not only had she had two lovers, one of them her cousin Francis Dereham, before her marriage, but that she had also been unfaithful to the King almost from the beginning of her married life, her paramour being one of her gentlemen, Thomas Culpeper. The Queen and her accomplice, Lady Rochford, were confined in Syon House, pending a parliamentary inquiry. Dereham and Culpeper were tried at Guildhall in December, pleaded guilty, and were hanged at Tyburn twelve days afterwards; and in February 1542, Catherine and Lady Rochford were condemned to death, and were beheaded on the 13th of the month, on the same spot on which the Queen’s cousin, Anne Boleyn, had suffered the same penalty for the same crime.

197This fresh tragedy in his life greatly aged the King, as can be seen in the portraits of him painted about this period, usually attributed to Lucas Hornebolt. A month after the execution, Marillac wrote to Francis I, on March 17, 1542, that Henry was “already very stout and daily growing heavier, much resembling his maternal grandfather, King Edward, being about his age, in loving rest and fleeing trouble. He seems very old and grey since the mishap (malheur) of this last queen, and will not yet hear of taking another, although he is ordinarily in company of ladies, and his ministers beg and urge him to marry again.”[417]

The portrait of Thomas Howard, third Duke of Norfolk, uncle by marriage to Henry VIII, was painted at about the same time as that of Catherine Howard. The inscriptions on the fine original version by Holbein in Windsor Castle (Pl. 25),[418] and the excellent contemporary copy in Arundel Castle, both state that it was taken in his sixty-sixth year, and as he is said to have been born in 1473, this gives the date of the picture as 1539 or early in 1540. He is shown standing, at half-length, slightly turned to the left. He is wearing a doublet of dusky red silk, edged with brown fur, and a white collar embroidered with black silk. His outer robe of dark velvet has a deep collar and border of ermine, and on his head is a plain, flat black hat, without a badge, over a black skull-cap which covers the ears. In his left hand he holds the long white wand of his office of Lord High Treasurer, and in his right the shorter gold baton, tipped with black, which he carried as hereditary Earl Marshal of England. Across the shoulders hangs the magnificent and richly-jewelled collar of the Order of the Garter with the pendant George, which is painted with all Holbein’s wonderful mastery in the clear rendering of minute ornament. The face, clean-shaven, and of a brown complexion, displays remarkable subtlety in the delineation of a proud and cruel nature. The cold, unflinching eyes, the thin, compressed lips with their faint, ironic smile, and the bony hands clasping the staves, reveal the sitter’s true character as it has come down to us in the pages of history, pride of race, cruelty almost remorseless in its pursuit of power, and inflexibility of purpose both in personal aggrandisement and in the service of his royal master.

198The background is green, and across the top of the panel runs the inscription: “Thomas · Dvke · off · Norfolk · Marshall · and Tresvrer off · Inglonde the · lxvi yere · of · his · age.” It is now almost illegible, through the passage of time and over-painting, but can be deciphered by the aid of the exactly similar inscription on the Arundel picture. This, as already stated, gives the date of the portrait as about 1540. The inscription, however, is not contemporary, but was probably added some hundred years later, in the reign of Charles I, when the picture was in the collection of the Earl of Arundel. It was finely etched by Vorsterman when in the Earl’s possession, in 1630, though without the inscription, but beneath the plate is engraved: “Hans Holbein pinxit. Visitur in Ædibus Arondelianis Londini.” This does not necessarily prove that the inscription on the panel did not exist at that date, as Vorsterman may have omitted it as disfiguring. That it was certainly there fifteen years later is proved by a coloured drawing on vellum by Philip Fruytiers, the Antwerp painter, dated 1645, a copy of a study by Van Dyck representing a large group of Thomas Howard, Earl of Arundel, his wife, and family. On the wall in the background Van Dyck had inserted, and Fruytiers has copied, on the one side, this very portrait of the Duke of Norfolk by Holbein, in which the inscription across the top of it in gold letters can be plainly seen, and on the other side the portrait of his son, the Earl of Surrey, also evidently a work by Holbein, though the original painting is now lost, which is inscribed: “Henry Howard Erle of Suhry anno ætatis svæ 25.” This water-colour drawing, which is signed “An. Vandyke inv. Ph. Fruytiers fecit 1645,” is in the collection of the Duke of Sutherland, and there is a small copy of it in oils on copper at Norfolk House, which also shows the inscription. It was engraved by Vertue in 1743. The original sketch or composition by Van Dyck has been lost.

Vol. II., Plate 25
THOMAS HOWARD, DUKE OF NORFOLK
Windsor Castle

It is supposed that the Windsor version is the one which was in the Arundel Collection, but its subsequent history is uncertain. That collection was divided in 1686, and the share which fell to the Duke of Norfolk may possibly have contained this portrait of his ancestor.[419] 199The Duke’s pictures were sold in 1692, and nothing further is to be heard of this portrait until it is mentioned by Walpole as being then (1762) in Leicester House, at that time the dower-house of the Dowager Princess of Wales, widow of Frederick, Prince of Wales.[420] “There can be no doubt,” says Mr. Ernest Law, “that the picture passed, on the death of the Princess in 1772, into the possession of the Crown with the rest of the collection which had been formed by Prince Frederick.”[421] It is not known from whom that Prince acquired it, but many of his pictures were purchased for him on the Continent by his agent, Bagnols, and it is not unlikely that Woltmann’s surmise is correct, and that it is to be identified with the portrait of the Duke which appeared in the catalogue of an anonymous sale of pictures at Amsterdam on April 23, 1732, as “Een zeer konstig uitmuntent stuk door Hans Holbeen, zynde de Hartog van Nortfolk nooit zoo goet gezien,” which must have been a fine work, as it fetched the relatively high price of 1120 florins.[422] It is quite possible, therefore, that the portrait was one of those sold by Lord Stafford in Amsterdam in 1654, immediately after the death of the Countess of Arundel, and that it was never in the possession of the Duke of Norfolk, but remained in that town until 1732.

The copy at Arundel Castle, about which still less is known, is so good that it is only when it is placed side by side with the Windsor version, as it was in the Tudor Exhibition in 1890, that the latter is seen to be by far the finer work of the two. The Arundel picture is slightly the smaller, and was last exhibited at the Burlington Fine Arts Club in 1909 (No. 49). There is a second version of this portrait in the Norfolk collection, at Norfolk House, in which various alterations have been made in the position and the dress, and a more elaborate background has been added. It is a work of comparatively little merit, and appears to have been painted during the seventeenth century by some inferior artist.

At the time he sat to Holbein the Duke was at the height of his power. He had been the bitter enemy of both Wolsey and Cromwell, and had assisted to bring about the downfall of both, and had arrested the latter with his own hands. After Cromwell’s execution he became the most powerful of Henry’s subjects, and reached his highest summit 200of greatness. His influence over the King, however, waned after the fall of his niece, Catherine Howard, when he was supplanted by his enemies, the Earl of Hertford and the Seymours. In 1546 he was attainted, together with his son, the Earl of Surrey, for high treason, and only escaped the latter’s fate by the death of the King on the day the warrant for his execution was made out. He remained in the Tower throughout the reign of Edward VI, but was released on the accession of Queen Mary in 1553, and his titles and estates were restored to him, but he only lived to enjoy them for a year.

Vol. II., Plate 26
HENRY HOWARD, EARL OF SURREY
Wrongly inscribed “Thomas Howard”
Drawing in black and coloured chalks
Windsor Castle

That Holbein painted his son, Henry, Earl of Surrey, is proved by the small portrait on the wall in Fruytiers’ version of Van Dyck’s picture of the Arundel family. The inscription on this miniature copy gives his age as twenty-five; and as he was born about 1517, Holbein must have painted him about 1541. He is represented with reddish hair and beard, and brown eyes, the head slightly turned to the right, and wears a black cap with a feather, and a black mantle from the folds of which the right hand appears. There is a small drawing in the Windsor Collection wrongly inscribed “Tho. Howard E. of Surrey,”[423] which bears some likeness to the Earl in the Fruytiers drawing, and is supposed to represent Henry Howard. It is badly rubbed, and has suffered from retouching and certain coarse alterations, and has the slightly-wavering touch which marks the so-called “Melanchthon” in the same collection. It is apparently the original study for the portrait which was engraved by Hollar when it was in the Arundel Collection.[424] There are two other heads at Windsor also named Thomas Howard, Earl of Surrey, but the attribution cannot be correct, as Surrey’s son, Thomas, was a small boy of only six or seven at the time of Holbein’s death. Whether the drawings represent the poet himself is also doubtful. One of them, inscribed “Thomas Earl of Surry” (Pl. 26),[425] in which he is shown full-face, clean-shaven, with hair cut straight across the forehead and partly covering the ears, and wearing a black cap with scalloped edges and an ostrich feather, is one of the finest drawings in the whole collection, conspicuous for the delicacy of the modelling and the freedom and expressiveness 201of the draughtsmanship. The face is one of considerable charm, which is not to be seen in the third drawing,[426] inscribed “Tho. Earle of Surry,” perhaps a little later in date, in which the head is turned slightly to the left, and the hair entirely covered with the black skull-cap he wears beneath the feathered bonnet. The dress is only slightly indicated, and is rubbed, and a circular medallion suspended from a broad ribbon hangs on his breast. A portrait of his wife is also to be found among the Windsor heads,[427] full-face, wearing the angular English head-dress with black fall, and a round jewelled ornament hanging from a chain round her neck, and a second medallion on her breast. The dress which, like the ornaments, is badly rubbed, was of rose-coloured velvet, according to a note in Holbein’s handwriting. The portrait for which this drawing was the study, like that of her husband, cannot now be traced. The two full-length portraits of Henry Howard, dated 1546, at Arundel Castle and at Knole respectively, are usually ascribed to the Netherlandish painter Guillim or Gillam Stretes, on account of Strype’s statement, already quoted,[428] that in 1551 the Privy Council ordered a picture “of the late Earl of Surrey, attainted,” to be fetched away from “the said Guillim’s house.” The Duke of Norfolk’s version of the portrait[429] has a very elaborate architectural setting, coarsely painted in stone colour, and apparently of a somewhat later date than the rest of the picture, while the one belonging to Lord Sackville at Knole shows the figure only, and is looked upon by some authorities as the original. The attribution of these two pictures to Stretes is extremely doubtful. The Arundel portrait, in particular, suggests the hand of an Italian, and the name of Nicolas Beilin of Modena may be tentatively suggested. One of them was in the collection of Thomas Howard, Earl of Arundel, where it was attributed to Holbein. It is described in the inventory of 1655 as “il ritratto del Conte de Surry grande del naturale.”

Only three dated works of the year 1541 remain; the two fine portraits of men in the Berlin and Vienna Galleries, and the miniature of Charles Brandon, the younger son of the Duke of Suffolk. The Berlin 202panel,[430] (No. 586 C), is inscribed at the top, in gold, on either side of the cap, “ANNO 1541,” and lower down, in smaller letters, level with the sitter’s ears: “ETATIS : SVÆ : 37.” The coat of arms, enamelled in red and white, on the gold ring on his left hand, indicates that in all probability this young man was a member of the Dutch family of Vos van Steenwijk, though the writer has failed to trace the name, or any indication of a sojourn in or visit to England on the part of its bearer, in the Calendars of the English State Papers. It is a half-length portrait, considerably less than life-size, head and body turned to the right, but both eyes shown. The eyes are grey, and the finely painted beard and moustache are a reddish brown. In his clasped hands he holds a pair of brown gloves. He wears a black silk under-dress and a surcoat of black or very dark brown, with the collar turned over to show the lining of black watered silk, and his flat cap of the same colour has a turned-down brim. He is gazing to the spectator’s right with a far-away and slightly melancholy look in his eyes, which are wonderfully painted, as is the beautiful and expressive left hand. It comes from the Von Sybel, Elberfeld, Merlo of Cologne, and Suermondt collections, having been purchased from the last-named owner in 1874.

Vol. II., Plate 27
PORTRAIT OF AN UNKNOWN YOUNG MAN
1541
Imperial Gallery, Vienna

The picture of an unknown man, aged twenty-eight, at Vienna[431] (No. 1479) (Pl. 27), is still finer in expression, and, indeed, is one of the most brilliant portraits of Holbein’s later years. It is one of his customary half-length figures, less than life-size, seated at a table, the body turned to the right, and the face looking out at the spectator. His doublet is of purple-brown silk, and over it he wears the usual black cloak with a deep collar and lining of brown fur, and black cap with a brim. The collar of his white shirt is beautifully embroidered with black Spanish work and tied with black laces. His grey gloves are held in his left hand, and his right rests on the olive-green cloth of the table, the forefinger being thrust within the pages of a gilt-edged book, near which is placed an inkstand with a red cord. On one of his rings is an intaglio. The clean-shaven face, showing blue on chin and upper lip, is of a ruddy brown complexion, and the hair, which does not cover the ears, is almost concealed by the hat. The unknown 203sitter, who appears to be an Englishman, is comely in features, and the eyes have a far-seeing, visionary expression, which Holbein has rendered with extraordinary vividness and subtlety of drawing. The upper part of the background consists of a blue-grey wall, with wooden panelling, or the back of a long wooden seat, below, and the panel is inscribed on either side of the head: “ANNO · DNI · 1541 · ETATIS · SVÆ · 28.” It was in the collection of the Archduke Leopold William in the seventeenth century. There is an old copy of this picture in the Palermo Gallery (Woltmann, 223).

To the year 1542 belongs the small portrait of an unknown Englishman in the Hague Gallery (No. 277) (Pl. 28),[432] which, again, is brilliant in execution, the details painted with the minutest care, but with a touch both delicate and free from all hardness, and unusual richness of colour. The head is full-face, the body turned slightly to the left. His closely cropped hair is chestnut in colour, turning to red at the ends of his moustache and short pointed beard. It is almost the only portrait by Holbein in which the sitter is shown without a hat. He wears a dress of black velvet and watered silk with a pattern, slashed with red silk at the shoulder and wrist. On his left hand, which is gloved, stands his falcon, a large bell on its claw. His right hand, in which he holds the bird’s hood, is ungloved, with a gold ring set with a stone on the little finger. The light falls from the right, and the shadow on the left side of the face is more strongly marked than in most of Holbein’s portraits. The modelling is fine, the face full of strong character, and, as usual, the hands are most expressively painted, the whole presentment being most vivid and life-like. The background is a plain blue-grey, of much the same tone as that in the portrait of 1541 at Vienna. Across the panel is inscribed, on either side of the head, the date 1542, and lower down “ANNO · ETATIS · SVÆ · XXVIII.” Little is known about the history of this picture, except that it was at one time in the royal collections of England, and that it was taken to Holland by William III, and was included in the list of works of art reclaimed by Queen Anne after that King’s death.[433] Like the portrait of Cheseman, however, it remained abroad. It is inscribed on the back “The manner of Holbein,” and in old catalogues was absurdly described as a portrait of Sir Thomas More.

Vol. II., Plate 28
PORTRAIT OF AN UNKNOWN MAN WITH A FALCON
1542
Royal Picture Gallery, Mauritshuis, The Hague

204It is probable that during this year Holbein painted Sir William Fitzwilliam, created Earl of Southampton in 1538, who died at Newcastle in 1543. There is a fine drawing of the head in the Windsor Collection,[434] turned three-quarters to the right, wearing a black cap with a medallion, and ear-flaps, or a coif, tied under the chin; slight whiskers are indicated on the cheek-bones. It is a face of strong individuality, with a big nose, finely and boldly drawn, the dress only roughly indicated. There is a full-length portrait of the Earl, 6 ft. × 3 ft. 3 in., in the Fitzwilliam Museum, Cambridge (No. ii. 164),[435] which is described in the catalogue as probably a copy of the original picture by Holbein which, in 1793, was destroyed by fire at Cowdray House, the estate purchased by the Earl in 1528. He is represented standing to the right, and wearing a black cap tied under the chin as in the Windsor drawing, a long black cloak with fur collar reaching to the knees, dark hose and shoes, and the collar and jewel of the Garter round his neck. He grasps a gold-headed staff in both hands, and stands on a terrace with a low parapet and a pavement of black and red tiles, overlooking a distant landscape consisting of wooded country and a land-locked harbour or estuary of a river with ships. His coat of arms is in the top left-hand corner, and in the right an inscription giving his titles and offices, as Lord Privy Seal and Chancellor of the Duchy of Lancaster, and the date 1542. The supposition that this picture is a copy after a lost original by Holbein is probably correct; it is quite in his manner, though in workmanship it in no way reaches to his mastery, the landscape background in particular showing an indecisive touch quite unlike his firm handling. A copy of the head, evidently taken from this picture, a small panel, 13⅛ in. × 9¾ in., was lent to the Burlington Fine Arts Club Exhibition, 1909 (No. 34),[436] by the Duke of Devonshire, which is inscribed across the brown background, in an eighteenth-century hand, “Sir Thomas Moore.” The compilers of the Burlington Club catalogue do not accept the Cambridge portrait on which it is based as a copy after Holbein, but as an original work, and clearly by the same hand as the Earl of Surrey at Knole, the full-length of a young man in Hampton Court Palace, and 205the Sir Thomas Gresham in Mercers’ Hall, with which the name of Guillim Stretes has been connected, though on somewhat flimsy foundations.[437] The Windsor head, however, is in such close accord with the Fitzwilliam Museum picture that it seems reasonable to suppose that the latter was based on it, or, rather, upon some painting of Holbein’s for which it formed the preliminary study. There were two portraits of the Earl in the Arundel Collection, both attributed to Holbein.[438]

In 1542 John Leland’s “Naeniae” on the death of Sir Thomas Wyat was published, with the small circular woodcut of the poet after a drawing by Holbein, which has been already described;[439] but otherwise the only dated portrait of this year is the one of the young man with the falcon at the Hague, though there are several which must have been painted shortly before his death. Those of Dr. John Chamber and Sir William Butts and his wife must have been produced in 1542 or the earlier half of 1543, while others, such as the “Elderly Man” at Berlin, the small portrait of an English lady at Vienna, and the Simon George at Frankfurt, may be attributed with some certainty to the last seven or eight years of Holbein’s life. It is probable, too, that he painted at about this time another portrait of the Prince of Wales. No such painting now exists, but the full-faced head with a cap in the Windsor Collection[440] represents Edward as a boy of about five or six years of age, and certainly older than in the Hanover picture, while in the profile head with cap and feather in the same collection of drawings,[441] which forms the basis of numerous portraits in the National Portrait Gallery and elsewhere, the boy seems even older, though he was only six at the time of Holbein’s death.

The portrait of an Unknown Man, aged fifty-four, in the Berlin Gallery (No. 586 I) (Pl. 29 (1)),[442] is another work of great power in its suggestion of life-like portraiture, and of high technical excellence. He 206is shown to the waist, slightly turned to the right. The face is a dignified one, with a long nose, and a slight droop in the right eyelid, and a look of melancholy absorption about his dark grey eyes. The hair and long beard are black, the latter with numerous grey hairs finely indicated with all Holbein’s customary minute care. The hands are thrust out of sight within the sleeves. His doublet, of which only the lower part of the sleeves is visible, is of ruby-red silk or satin, over which is a black or dark-brown coat with bands of black velvet, and lined with a patterned watered silk. The black cap has gold tags. The plain background is a greyish-blue, and on either side of the head is inscribed in gold lettering, “ÆTATIS · SVÆ · 54.” On the back of the panel are the letters “W.E.P.L.C.,” apparently in a sixteenth-century hand, probably the mark of some early English collector. The same letters appear on the back of the portrait of Robert Cheseman at the Hague, and on the portrait of a young man by Joos van Cleve in Berlin (No. 633 A), which was formerly in the Marlborough Collection, where it was at one time attributed to Holbein. Nothing of the early history of the portrait under discussion is known. It belonged at one time to Sir J. E. Millais, and was lent by him to the Holbein Exhibition in Dresden in 1871, where it was acknowledged by the leading German critics to be a splendid example of the master’s later English period. It was purchased at the Millais sale, in 1897, for 3000 guineas for the Kaiser Friedrich Museum. There is a poor and lifeless copy of the head of this portrait in the collection of Mr. John G. Johnson, of Philadelphia.[443] The panel is a pastiche, for the copyist has attached the head of the Millais portrait to the body of the Unknown Young Man aged twenty-eight in the Vienna Gallery. In the copy of the head the hat is without the gold tags, the beard is slightly shorter, and the sitter appears to be somewhat younger. In that of the body the dress, hands, the rings, gloves, and book follow the Vienna picture closely, but the copyist has removed the two rings on the little finger of the right hand to the more usual ring-finger. Mr. C. Ricketts regards it as “almost certainly modern. In draughtsmanship it is without subtlety, the nostril is preposterous, the under lip like a muffin.”[444] Mr. F. J. Mather considers it to be old, and of fair quality.

Vol. II., Plate 29a
PORTRAIT OF AN UNKNOWN ELDERLY MAN
Kaiser Friedrich Museum, Berlin

Vol. II., Plate 29b
PORTRAIT OF AN UNKNOWN ENGLISH LADY
Imperial Gallery, Vienna

207“It is pretty surely of Holbein’s century, and of better quality than the reproduction indicates.”[445]

The portrait of an unknown English lady in the Imperial Gallery, Vienna (No. 1483) (Pl. 29 (2)),[446] is almost miniature in size, and is characterised by the most delicate brush-work and great charm and richness of colour. She is shown to the waist, full-face, the body turned slightly to the left, and her hands clasped in front of her. The dress is of dark brown or puce, with the yoke and central hanging part of the sleeves of black velvet. The sleeves from the elbow are of red velvet slashed with white at the wrists. She wears a French head-dress of white and gold, with black fall, closely resembling the one in the portrait of Catherine Howard. The hair is a dark reddish brown. At her breast is suspended a circular gold ornament upon which is represented figures sacrificing at an altar, possibly of Holbein’s designing. The background is a deep grey-blue, surrounded by a frame imitating stonework. It has no inscription.

Another small work of much beauty and delicacy of workmanship, and charm of expression, is the portrait of Simon George, of Quocote, in Cornwall, in the Städel Institut in Frankfurt (No. 71),[447] a profile portrait to the left, showing the head and shoulders only, and the right hand, in which the sitter holds a carnation. He has dark, closely-cropped hair and pointed beard, with a black cap over the right ear, elaborately ornamented with a white feather, many gold tags, an oval medallion with a representation of Leda and the Swan, and a small bunch of enamelled pansies. His dress is a rich one, and the open collar of the shirt is covered with black embroidery of a floral pattern of conventional design. The background is of greenish blue, and some letters of a two-lined inscription, of later date than the painting, mutilated by the reduction of the panel, which appears to have been originally round, can still be traced, including the letters NOB and part of the painter’s signature, “IOHA : H.” It was acquired in 1870 from the Brentano-Birckenstock sale. The original study for the head is in the Windsor Collection,[448] and shows the same slight frown 208wrinkling the forehead as in the picture. The hairs of the moustache are very carefully drawn, but the beard only shows a few days’ growth. It is inscribed at the bottom, in cursive writing, “S. George of Cornwall.”

The portrait of Dr. John Chamber or Chambre in the Imperial Gallery, Vienna (No. 1480) (Pl. 30),[449] is one of Holbein’s most powerful portraits of old men, the deeply-lined, clean-shaven face being full of individuality. He is shown to the waist, turned three-quarters to the right, in a plain black doctor’s cap, which covers the hair and hides all but the lobe of the ears, and a black gown with brown fur collar; and he holds a pair of grey gloves in his hands. The background is a very dark blue, and is inscribed, on either side of the head, “ÆTATIS SVE 88.” The date of John Chamber’s birth has not been traced, but the portrait was probably painted in 1541 or 1542, when Holbein was engaged upon the big “Barber-Surgeons” picture, in which Chamber is introduced in much the same position as in the Vienna portrait. He died at an advanced age, well over ninety, in 1549. He was one of the King’s physicians, and his name was the first on the roll of six doctors who in 1518 received letters patent from the Crown giving them the privilege of admitting other physicians to practise medicine in London, which was the original foundation of the Royal College of Physicians. Chamber was joint author with Dr. Butts and two others of a manuscript “Pharmacopœia” for the use of Henry VIII. As Court physician he attended Anne Boleyn at Greenwich Palace at the birth of the Princess Elizabeth, and it was he who reported to the Privy Council the critical condition of Jane Seymour when Edward VI was born. He married Joan Wardell in 1545, when he was nearly ninety, and their son was christened in the following year, both he and his wife dying within a few weeks of one another in 1549. His career, however, was more remarkable for the many religious preferments he gained, than for his medical skill. Born in Northumberland, he became a priest in early life, and was a Fellow, and afterwards Warden, of Merton College, Oxford. In 1502 he went to Italy and graduated in physic in Padua. On his return to England he succeeded Linacre as the King’s chief physician. In 1522 he was Canon of Windsor, in 1536 Dean of the 209Collegiate Church of St. Stephen, and later on Archdeacon of Meath. A very excellent copy of this portrait is in the possession of Merton College, Oxford, and was included in the Oxford Exhibition of Historical Portraits in 1904 (No. 27). It is inscribed on the back: “Dr. Chamber, phisician of King Henry VIII, copied from Hanns Holbein’s original by H. Reinhart. The original, once belonging to the collection of King Charles I, was, together with several other pictures of the same master, after the execution of this Monarch, sold and became the property of Archduke Leopold, Stadtholder of the Low Countries, from whence by legacy it passed into the Gallery of the Emperors of Austria (Ob. 1549).” The original portrait, however, does not appear at any time to have been included in the collection of Charles I, but it formed part of the wonderful series of works by Holbein got together by Thomas Howard, Earl of Arundel. In the Dictionary of National Biography the date of his birth is given as 1470, while the Oxford catalogue suggests the date 1469, but neither can be correct, or otherwise the date of the Vienna picture would be 1557 or 1558, fourteen years or so after Holbein’s death. If the age of the sitter, eighty-eight, as given on the panel, is correct, and it is accepted that the portrait was painted about 1542, Chamber must have been born about 1454. The Merton College copy was exhibited at the Royal Academy Winter Exhibition, 1901-2 (No. 155), as a work of the school of Holbein. In 1894 the Royal College of Physicians became possessed of a miniature portrait of Chamber, painted on the back of the ten of clubs, and said to be by Isaac Oliver. This is a careful copy of the Vienna picture, and has a long Latin inscription, giving Chamber’s titles, and the date of his death, round the frame. The original, when in the Arundel Collection, was engraved by Hollar (Parthey, 1372), with the inscription “D. Chambers Anno Ætatis Svæ 88. Holbein pinxit.” In the Arundel inventory it is described as “Doctore John Chambers.” It is possibly one of the pictures which remained on the Continent after the death of the Countess of Arundel in 1654.

Vol. II., Plate 30
DR. JOHN CHAMBER
Imperial Gallery, Vienna

The portraits of Sir William and Lady Butts,[450] which have suffered, more particularly the former, from coarse repainting, are probably of about the same date as the Dr. Chamber, for Butts is also one of the prominent figures in the “Barber-Surgeons” group. The portrait 210of the husband has an inscription which has been repainted by an ignorant copyist, and now reads “ANNO ATATS SVE LIX.” Unfortunately, as in the case of Chamber, the year of Butts’ birth is not known, so that the exact date of the portrait cannot be proved. It is given in the National Portrait Gallery Catalogue as 1485 (?). His tombstone at Fulham bears only the date of his death, 1545. The portraits show the heads and shoulders only. Sir William is represented in profile to the right, in black cap and furred gown, and a heavy gold chain upon his shoulders. His face is clean-shaven, and his grey hair almost covers the ears. Lady Butts is painted almost full-face, but turned slightly to the left. She wears the angular English head-dress with black fall, a plain dress with fur-trimmed mantle, and a large enamelled rose at her breast. Above her head is inscribed “ANNO ÆTATIS SVE LVII.” Both portraits were in the National Portrait Exhibition, 1866, lent by Mr. W. H. Pole-Carew, and are now in the collection of Mrs. John Gardner, Fenway Court, Boston, U.S.A. They are about 18 in. × 14 in., and the green backgrounds and inscriptions of both pictures have been badly repainted. There is a good copy or replica of Sir William in the National Portrait Gallery[451] (No. 210), and copies of both husband and wife, apparently seventeenth-century work, in the collection of Mr. F. A. Newdegate-Newdigate, at Arbury, Warwickshire. There is no head of Butts among the Windsor drawings, but that collection contains a masterly one of his wife,[452] in which the lines of the face are very strongly marked. She was a daughter of John Bacon of Cambridgeshire. The portrait of their third son, Edmund Butts, of Thornham, Norfolk, who died at the age of thirty in 1549, is in the National Gallery (No. 1496), and is regarded as a work of that little-known English painter John Bettes. This portrait is dated 1545, and the age of the sitter is given as twenty-six, and on a card on the back is the inscription “faict par Johan Bettes Anglois.”[453]

In the exhibition held at the Burlington Fine Arts Club in 1909, Prince Frederick Duleep Singh lent a portrait (No. 30), also dated 1545, said to represent Edmund Butts, and attributed by the owner to Bettes. The armorial bearings on this picture indicate a member of the Butts 211family, but the person represented is certainly not the same as in the National Gallery portrait, nor do the two appear to be the work of the same painter.

Dr. Butts was in receipt of a salary of £100 a year from the King, and was the favourite physician about the Court. He was a native of Norfolk, and educated at Cambridge. Many prescriptions in his handwriting are preserved in the British Museum. He appears as one of the characters in Shakespeare’s Henry VIII (Act v. sc. 2), and his name occurs in a number of contemporary letters. Thus, in 1537, the Earl of Shrewsbury wrote thanking Cromwell “for asking the King to licence Dr. Buttes to come to him”;[454] and on October 6, 1542, the Earl of Southampton wrote to Wriothesley from York, when upon the expedition against Scotland: “Recommend me to Butts, and thank him for his pills. I would not have foregone them at this time for all the good I have.”[455] In spite of the pills, however, the Earl died at Newcastle nine days later.

A small half-length portrait of an Unknown Man in the Basel Collection (No. 327),[456] belongs to the later period of Holbein’s English residence. He is turned three-quarters to the left, and wears the customary dark fur-lined surcoat and black cap, and dark purple sleeves, and holds his gloves and a paper, upon which the inscription is now illegible, in his clasped hands. The beard, moustache, and hair are dark. This picture, which was purchased in Basel in 1862, has been more than once restored, so that Holbein’s handiwork has suffered considerably. Another small picture which is also now in a damaged state is the portrait of a young English lady in the collection of Count Lanckoronski in Vienna,[457] which was regarded by Woltmann as probably by Holbein, but when exhibited in the Dresden Exhibition of 1871 was declared by the critics to be a genuine work. It is similar in style to the small portrait of a Lady in the Vienna Gallery, and of about the same date. She is shown at half-length, turned a little to the spectator’s right, with clasped hands, and wearing a dark dress with red puffings and gold tags from shoulder to wrist, and a French hood with bands of gold ornaments and a black fall. Round her neck is a gold chain with a 212pendant with seven flat stones, a second gold chain, and a large brooch fastened at her breast with a cameo of a double head, a young man’s shown full-face, attached to one of a lady in profile. Across the plain green background, on either side of her head, is inscribed “Anno etatis svæ xvii.” In appearance she is stolid and unattractive, but this may be partly due to the present state of the picture.

There remains one other portrait of a lady of about this date—that of Lady Rich,[458] which until 1912 had been for many years in the possession of the Moseley family at Buildwas Park, Shropshire. The sitter is represented to the waist, slightly turned to the right, and wears the English diamond-shaped hood with black fall, and a black dress with a gold medallion decorated with the figures of a man and woman by a corpse, which, according to Wornum, are “exquisitely put in.”[459] According to the same writer, it is “a fine expressive portrait, with a thin rich carnation.” It is painted on wood, 17 in. by 13 in., and has suffered some retouching. The face is a most determined one, as can be seen from the fine preliminary drawing in the Windsor Castle Collection.[460] Lady Rich was the daughter and heiress of William Jenks or Gynkes, a rich London grocer, and she married, in 1535, Lord Chancellor Rich, of notorious memory, who helped to ruin many of the prominent men of his day, such as More and Fisher. In the seventeenth century the portrait became the property of the Rev. Herbert Croft, Bishop of Hereford, whose granddaughter, Elizabeth Croft, married Acton Moseley, of Staffordshire. In 1792 the portrait, with some other pictures, was bequeathed by Sir Archer Croft to his cousin, Mr. Walter Michael Moseley. The latter’s descendant, Captain H. R. Moseley, parted with the picture in 1912, and it is now in an American collection.[461] It was last exhibited at the National Portrait Exhibition at South Kensington in 1866 as a portrait of “Queen Katherine of Arragon.” There is also a drawing of her husband, Richard Rich,[462] at Windsor, and Holbein must almost certainly have painted his portrait, but all traces of it have been lost. A version of it was among the pictures destroyed by fire at Knepp Castle in 1904.

Among the very last works from Holbein’s hand must have been 213the various miniature portraits of himself, dated 1543, described in the next chapter.[463] The self-portrait in the Uffizi Gallery, Florence,[464] which is evidently founded on one of them, or on one of the small oil-paintings, now lost, has few pretensions, in the writer’s opinion, to be regarded as an original work, though it is, of course, possible that beneath the brush-work of some later and inferior painter there may be an original work by Holbein now practically obliterated. It is only right, however, to point out that Dr. Ganz considers it to be an original though damaged drawing, and other writers are in agreement with him. It is in coloured crayons on a gold ground, and the comparatively modern inscription with the date 1543 has been painted over an earlier one, which can be still traced below. Dr. Ganz suggests that it is probably one of the two portraits which Van Mander saw in Amsterdam in 1604.

Of far greater interest is the recently-discovered portrait, first published in 1912 by Dr. Ganz,[465] which he considers to be a genuine self-portrait by Holbein, hitherto unknown. The likeness both to the numerous miniatures and to the Uffizi portrait is so great that the attribution is most certainly the correct one. It is in all ways much more attractive than the last-named work, and has far greater vitality and a more subtle expression of character. It is a drawing of the head and shoulders only, turned slightly to the spectator’s right, and the painter is wearing a dark fur-lined cloak and black cap. Part of the left hand only is shown. It is a coloured-crayon drawing touched with water-colour, on white paper which has been covered with a flesh-coloured ground. The paper has a Zürich water-mark, and was only manufactured between 1536-1540, so that the date of the drawing can be fixed with some accuracy, and was very probably done in Basel during Holbein’s short visit home in the autumn of 1538. It has, unfortunately, suffered considerable damage, and here and there has been touched up with Indian-ink. On the top right-hand comer of the blue background is inscribed, in a later hand, “H. H. 15 ...” It was purchased in England in the summer of 1910, and is now in Basel in the collection of Dr. Rudolph Geigy-Schlumberger.[466]

214Several portraits by Holbein, which so far have not been traced, were etched by Hollar when they were in the Arundel Collection, and these prints, in the absence of the originals, form invaluable records for the use of students. Some few of them, however, though Hollar has placed Holbein’s name on them, cannot have been painted by him, as, for instance, the portrait of Thomas Chaloner,[467] which is dated 1548. All the more important of them are reproduced by Dr. Ganz in his Holbein (1912),[468] and several have been already described in these pages. Among those remaining there is one of an unknown bearded man in a black cap,[469] and two of unnamed boys.[470] The second of these boys, whose head is turned three-quarters to the left, appears, from the details of the dress he is wearing, to be a Swiss. Holbein’s original silver-point study for the portrait from which the etching was taken is in the Louvre, and is dated 1520. The connection between the two was first pointed out by Dr. Ganz.[471] The circular portrait of Sir Anthony Denny is inscribed “ANNO 1541 ÆTATIS SVÆ 29.”[472] The original painting, a small roundel, descended, according to Mr. W. Barclay Squire, to the Howards of Greystoke Castle, and is now in the collection of Mr. J. Pierpont Morgan, junr. There is an old copy of it at Longford Castle.[473] The large print of an elderly, grey-bearded man, with fur coat, and cap with a feather,[474] is usually said to represent Charles Brandon, Duke of Suffolk, but though it bears considerable likeness to the authentic portraits of him, the attribution is doubtful. There are several portraits of English ladies among Hollar’s work. Of one, in which the sitter is turned to the right, and is wearing a round head-dress surmounted by a flat black cap with a large feather,[475] there is no study known, but for two others, which Hollar has reproduced as small roundels, the preliminary drawings are to be found in the Windsor Collection, one of them of an unknown lady, full-face, wearing the angular head-dress,[476] and 215the other the drawing inscribed “The Lady Mary after Queen.”[477] The profile portrait of a lady, which has been considered by some writers to represent Anne of Cleves,[478] does not appear to be after an original by Holbein, though Hollar has placed his name on it. It is possible, though not very probable, that some of these circular etchings were based on the drawings, and not on finished pictures.

Holbein’s practice during his last English period seems to have been devoted almost entirely to portraiture, so that an entry in an inventory of the Duke of Buckingham’s pictures at York House, made in 1635,[479] is of exceptional interest, as it shows that he did occasionally paint subjects other than portraits. It runs as follows: “Hans Holbin.—Jupiter and Jo in Water Coulers.” This picture, of which all traces are lost, was hanging in the Vaulted Room. The Duke possessed a number of other works by or attributed to Holbein, but unfortunately the entries in the inventory are so tantalisingly vague that it is impossible to gather much information about them, though two of them seem to have been portraits of Steelyard merchants. They included “Erasmus Rotterodamm after Holbin”; “A Dutchman Sealing a Letter” (possibly the John of Antwerp now at Windsor);[480] “A Rare piece, being a Dutchman”; “A Queen”; “An other Lady”; “A little picture in Linnen”; and “A little picture of Holbin himself,” which was probably one of the miniatures. With the exception of the last-named, all are described as by “Holbin” or “Hans Holbin.”

Another subject-picture by Holbein is mentioned by Evelyn in his Diary, but so vaguely that it is impossible to guess what it could have been. He says, under the date May 8, 1654: “I also call’d at Mr. Ducie’s, who has indeede a rare collection of the best masters, and one of the largest stories of H. Holbein.” This, however, may have been some picture similar to “The Battle of Spurs” at Hampton Court, attributed to Holbein in Evelyn’s day, and not a genuine work of the master. His judgment was not always infallible, as he speaks of the 216well-known “Dancing Picture,”[481] which he saw at the Duke of Norfolk’s at Weybridge (23rd August 1678) as “that incomparable painting of Holbein’s.”

Early references to Holbein as a miniature painter—Receives instruction from Lucas Hornebolt—Rareness of genuine miniatures by him—Sir Thomas More—Lord Abergavenny—Lady Audley—Henry and Charles Brandon—Drawing in the British Museum of a lady and children on a bench—Miniature of Mrs. Robert Pemberton—Unknown youth in the Queen of Holland’s Collection—Miniature paintings of Holbein himself—Thomas Cromwell—Anne of Cleves—Jane Seymour—Edward VI—Livina Teerlinc—Miniatures of the Holbein school—Miniature of an unknown man, possibly the painter Harry Maynert, at Munich.

The old tradition that Holbein did not practise miniature painting until after he had settled in England is probably true. Van Mander says that it was only at a late period, after he had entered the King’s service, that he, who knew how to adapt himself almost to everything, took up the art of miniature painting, in which he had before done nothing. At that time he met at the Court a very famous master in this art, named Master Lukas. “With Lukas he kept up mutual acquaintance and intercourse, and learned from him the art of miniature painting, which, since then, he pursued to such an extent, that in a short time he as far excelled Lukas in drawing, arrangement, understanding, and execution, as the sun surpasses the moon in brightness.”[482] Seventy years later Sandrart repeated this statement, which he evidently took from Van Mander’s book. The Master Lukas in question was undoubtedly Lucas Hornebolt, who was in the employment of the King throughout the whole period of Holbein’s residence in England. So far, the only pictures extant which have been attributed with some certainty to the studio of Lucas and Gerard Hornebolt are the portraits of Henry VIII, of the type of the Warwick Castle portrait, when that monarch was drawing towards the end of his life; but the sister, Susanna, wife of John Parker, Yeoman of the Robes, and one of the King’s bowmen, was well known in her day as an excellent 218miniaturist, while Guicciardini speaks of Lucas as not only a very great painter, but as exceptionally good in the art of illuminating, so that it is extremely probable that a number of the miniatures still in existence, representing Henry, his wives, and members of his Court, which though very excellent, have not the brilliance of execution and the unfailing insight into character which mark the few genuine miniatures by Holbein, were the work of the members of this family. Guicciardini published his book only twenty-four years after Holbein’s death, so that his account of the position they occupied at Henry’s court, and the estimation in which they were held in England, borne out as it is by the royal accounts, is evidently an accurate one.

Further confirmation of the fact that Holbein was famous for his skill in miniature painting during his residence in England is to be found in a manuscript “Treatise concerning the Arte of Limning,” which was written, at the request of Richard Haydock, by Nicholas Hilliard, the first and one of the finest of English native-born miniature painters, who was born in all probability in 1537, and so was a boy of six when Holbein died, and based his art on Holbein’s own practice. This treatise, which was first published in its entirety by Dr. Philip Norman in the first annual volume of the Walpole Society, 1911-12, from the original manuscript in the Edinburgh University Library, was probably written by Hilliard between 1598-1602. The manuscript, which is not in the miniaturist’s own hand, is dated 18th March 1624. In it Hilliard extols “King Henry the eight a Prince of exquisit jugment and Royall bounty, soe that of cuning stranger even the best resorted unto him, and removed from other courts to his. Amongst whom came the most excelent Painter and limner Master Haunce Holbean the greatest Master Truly in both thosse arts after the liffe that ever was, so Cuning in both together and the neatest; and therewithall a good inventor, soe compleat for all three, as I never heard of any better then hee. Yet had the King in wages for limning Divers others, but Holbean’s maner of limning I have ever imitated and howld it for the best, by Reason that of truth all the rare Siences especially the arts of Carving, Painting, Goudsmiths, Imbroderers, together with the most of all the liberall Siences came first unto us from the strangers, and generally they are the best and most in number. I heard Kinsard [Ronsard?] the great French poet on a time say, that the Ilands indeed seldome bring forth any Cunning man, 219but when they Doe it is in high perfection; so then I hope there maie come out of this ower land such a one, this being the greatest and most famous Iland of Europe.”[483]

Still further proof of Holbein’s fame as a limner or miniature painter is to be found in a manuscript written by Edward Norgate, called “Miniatura or the Art of Limning,” now among the Rawlinson MSS. in the Bodleian Library, dedicated to Henry Frederick, Earl of Arundel. Other versions of this treatise on the “Art of Limning” are in the British Museum (Harl. MSS., No. 6000); in the possession of the Royal Society, which came from the Arundel Collection; and elsewhere. Norgate based a considerable part of his treatise on the earlier one by Hilliard. “The incomparable H. Holbein,” he says, “who, in all his different and various methods of painting, either in oyle, distempre, lymning or crayon, was, it seems, so general an artist as never to imitate any man, nor ever was worthily imitated by any.”[484]

Van Mander is, no doubt, correct in saying that Holbein received instruction in the art of miniature painting from Lucas Hornebolt, and that he had not practised it until he came to England; though Hornebolt had nothing to teach him but the practical use of a medium in which, as applied to portraiture, he had until then had very little experience. There is no evidence to show that he produced true miniatures while in Basel, though there is one attributed to him in the collection of the late Mr. J. Pierpont Morgan, a portrait of a Baseler, a certain Arnold Franz, described below, which affords possible proof that he did so. Such an isolated example as this, however, may have been painted during one of his later visits to Basel, or it may represent one of the members of the German colony in London. Several of his small circular oil paintings, almost the size of the true miniature, have been described in earlier chapters,[485] so that he was already skilled in working on a small scale, and within it of producing a life-like portrait, of the utmost delicacy and truth to nature, while his extraordinary 220skill and precision in rendering with most minute yet masterly touches of the brush all the details of the sitter’s costume, jewellery, and accessories, must have left him little to learn when he began to work in the new medium. It is evident that he soon set up a standard of excellence in this field which both his contemporaries and the miniaturists who came after him did their best to reach.

His miniatures are now of the greatest rarity, though there are many in various English collections which still wrongfully bear his name, given to them in less critical days, when every portrait, great and small, dating from Tudor times, was ascribed to him. In certain of these, very possibly Holbein’s original handiwork has been buried beneath repairs and repaints by later and less skilful hands. No doubt a number of others have been lost, for so delicate and small an object of art as a miniature is soon damaged or mislaid; though against this must be set the fact that many of them were kept in specially-made ivory boxes, and so would not easily suffer destruction. The number of them which, from the perfection of their execution, can be said with some approach to certainty to be from his brush, can be counted almost on the fingers of one’s hands. These include the portraits of Mrs. Pemberton; the two sons of the Duke of Suffolk, Henry and Charles Brandon; Lady Audley; Queen Catherine Howard; Sir Thomas More; the portrait of an unknown youth in the Queen of Holland’s collection; several of the painter himself, done in the last year of his life, and two or three others. After these come several which, though less perfect in draughtsmanship, have serious claims to be considered as his work, and after these, again, there are those fairly numerous examples which, though of good execution and of real interest and value, have no pretensions to rank as works of the great master. Some of these have been attributed tentatively to such painters as the Hornebolts, Livina Teerlinc, Stretes, or Bettes, though modern criticism has not succeeded as yet in disentangling the works of these little masters the one from the other, so that the various attributions are at present more or less mere guesswork.

The beautiful miniature of Sir Thomas More, rediscovered by Dr. Williamson when in the Godolphin-Quicke Collection, and first published by him in his History of Portrait Miniatures, which is in the late Mr. J. Pierpont Morgan’s collection, has been already described when 221speaking of the portraits of Sir Thomas.[486] A second miniature of More, in the collection of the Duke of Buccleuch at Montagu House, was first reproduced by Mr. Dudley Heath in The Connoisseur.”[487] This, though based, like the Pierpont Morgan miniature, on the Huth portrait, shows some differences from both. It is smaller than the other miniature, and the sitter appears to be some years older. The eyes are more downcast and the head slightly bent, while the scanty beard is whiter. In other respects the dress, consisting of black cap and furred gown, and collar of SS with the Tudor rose, is the same. Another interesting point about it is that it is painted, not in water-colours, but in oil on a gesso ground, upon a metal plaque which appears to be silver. It has, unfortunately, suffered to some extent in the course of time, and has been retouched here and there, but it is a fine example, very possibly by Holbein, showing, according to Mr. Heath, “that vivid realism, yet reserve of expression, that sensitive modulation of the tones and contours, that insistent yet flexible drawing of the features, which constitute the sign-manual of the great portrait painter.” Nothing seems to be known of the history of this miniature, which was exhibited at South Kensington in 1862 (No. 2061), in the Royal Academy Winter Exhibition in 1879 (Case L, 4), and at the Burlington Fine Arts Club in 1909 (Case C, 17). These miniatures of More would seem to suggest that Holbein’s earlier biographers were wrong in stating that he did not begin to practise in this branch of art until after he had entered Henry VIII’s service. It has been generally supposed that when he returned to England a second time he saw little or nothing of the Chancellor, and if that is so, these miniatures must have been painted between 1526 and 1528, when he was at work on the big group of his first English patron’s family. At that time, however, Holbein had no official connection with the court, and was possibly not yet on terms of intimacy with the Hornebolts, so that it seems more probable that any miniatures of More from his hand were done between 1532, the date of Holbein’s return to London, and 1534, when the ex-Chancellor was imprisoned in the Tower. Another possible solution is that they were painted after More’s death for friends or relations who desired a memorial of him, 222and were done from the oil painting or from the preliminary drawings still in the painter’s possession.

Another miniature from the Montagu House Collection was also reproduced for the first time by Mr. Dudley Heath in the same article,[488] and was lent by the Duke of Buccleuch to the Burlington Fine Arts Club Exhibition (Case C, 22). It represents George Nevill, third Lord Abergavenny, and, as already noted,[489] is founded on the fine drawing in the collection of the Earl of Pembroke, for so long considered to be a portrait of Thomas Cromwell. The face, which is that of an old man, is turned three-quarters to the spectator’s right, and is clean-shaven. His white hair is almost covered by the black cap, on which is a gold jewel with three pendant pearls. He wears a black fur-lined gown over a black doublet open at the throat, showing his white shirt. On the left-hand side of the bright-blue background is inscribed “G. Abergaveny.” It is painted, like nearly all miniatures of the period, on a playing card, and is 1¾ in. in diameter. It was purchased by its present owner, with some other miniatures, at the Earl of Westmorland’s sale at Apethorpe Hall, Northamptonshire, in 1892. It is in a perfect state of preservation, full of vitality, and excellent in modelling, and has considerable claims to be regarded as an original. The pale, high tones of the flesh colour are in marked contrast to the lower tones of the oil miniature of Sir Thomas More in the same collection.

Vol. II., Plate 31
MINIATURES
1. HENRY BRANDON
2. CHARLES BRANDON
3. LADY AUDLEY
4. QUEEN CATHERINE HOWARD
Windsor Castle

5. PORTRAIT OF AN UNKNOWN YOUTH
Queen of Holland’s Collection
6. THOMAS CROMWELL
The late Mr. J. Pierpont Morgan’s Collection

The two almost similar miniatures of Catherine Howard, at Windsor Castle (Pl. 31 (4)) and Montagu House, have been already described;[490] both are beautiful examples, and each one is almost certainly from Holbein’s own hand, though the former has suffered from restoration. In the royal collection at Windsor there are three other miniatures which also can be given to him without any hesitation, all three being masterpieces of the art of the limner; these are the portraits of Lady Audley and the two Brandon boys. The miniature of Lady Audley (Pl. 31 (3)),[491] is of extraordinary delicacy in handling and colour, and bears the stamp of Holbein in every minute 223and unerring touch. As Mr. Law says, “there was no other artist at the court of Henry VIII, or indeed in Northern Europe, who could have produced so exquisite a work of art.”[492] She is shown to the waist, turned to the right, with hands folded in front of her. Her richly-brocaded dress is of pale crimson, with under-sleeves of dark grey and white ruffles, and she wears a French hood trimmed with pearls, and a black fall over her fair hair. Her double necklace is of almost the same pattern as the one worn by Catherine Howard. There is no inscription on the plain, deep blue background. It is 2½ in. in diameter, and is painted on the back of the two of hearts. The identity of the sitter is placed beyond doubt by the fine drawing, inscribed “The Lady Audley,” in the Windsor Collection (Pl. 37 (1)),[493] in which the position and features of the sitter, the costume and ornaments, are almost exactly the same, while the colour of the dress in the miniature agrees with the note in Holbein’s handwriting on the drawing—“damast rot.” This drawing is one of the finest and most delicate among the heads of women in the Windsor Collection—a long, handsome face, with pointed chin and sharp nose, and very expressive eyes. Holbein has carefully indicated the details of the ornaments she is wearing. Her necklace is of elaborate workmanship, apparently a band of alternate links of enamel and pearls arranged as flowers, with a large pendant with inset facetted jewels and three hanging pearls. At her breast is a large circular ornament of a somewhat similar design. The oil painting for which the preliminary study was made, and from which the miniature was possibly taken, is now lost. Elizabeth, Lady Audley, was the eldest daughter of one who must have been in constant touch with Holbein—Sir Bryan Tuke, the Treasurer of the Chamber, whose portrait by him has been already described, and from whose hands he received his salary. She married John Touchet, ninth Lord Audley.

The portraits of the two young sons of the Duke of Suffolk, Henry and Charles Brandon, are acknowledged on all sides to be among the very finest of Holbein’s miniatures. Dr. Woltmann, indeed, considered the one of the elder brother to be the best which ever came from his brush. It is, he says, “the most beautiful miniature painting by Holbein that is known to us, and exhibits more strikingly than 224any other his artistic style and his spirited and perfect mode of execution, true in spite of all its delicacy.”[494] This is certainly by no means too high praise, for both miniatures are delightful renderings of childhood, drawn with all Holbein’s keen perception, and faultless in their precision of line and delightfulness of colouring. The elder boy, Henry (Pl. 31 (1)),[495] aged five, is shown to the waist, full-face, leaning with his left arm on a table at his side, his head slightly bent in the same direction. He is wearing a black velvet dress with green under-sleeves, and a black hat with a white feather. His fair hair is cut straight across his forehead, and there is a rather sad look in his eyes. On the ledge of the table is inscribed, “ETATIS SVE 5 6 SEPDEM,” and below, on the table-leg, “ANNO” and the date, which has been variously read by different writers. The younger brother, Charles (Pl. 31 (2)),[496] aged three, is also seen to the waist and full-face. His dress is a bluish grey braided in red, and with black cuffs. His flat black cap has no feather; his hair, like his brother’s, is very fair, and his blue eyes look straight at the spectator. There is a strong likeness between the two. He holds in front of him a paper with the inscription “ANN 1541 ETATIS SVÆ 3 10 MARCI.” Both miniatures are painted on a playing card, 2 in. in diameter, and in each the background is the usual bright blue. Their pedigree in the royal collection can be traced back as far as Charles I, in whose catalogue they appear as: “Done by Hans Holbein. Given to the King by Sir H. Vane. No. 64. Item. Done upon the wrong light. Upon a round card, one of the Duke of Brandon’s children, being in a purple habit laced with red velvet lace, with both his hands before him. 2 inches.” “No. 65. Item. Another fellow piece of the same Duke of Brandon’s children, in a black cap and habit with green sleeves, leaning with his left arm upon the table, bending his breast towards his left shoulder, on the table written his age, and the year of our Lord, done upon the wrong light.” They appear again in James H’s catalogue, No. 646, as: “Two heads in one frame, in limning, being the sons of Charles Brandon, Duke of Suffolk. By Holbein.”

The boys were the sons of Charles Brandon, first Duke of Suffolk, 225who became brother-in-law of the King by his secret marriage in Paris on May 13, 1515, with the young Queen Dowager of France, widow of Louis XII; and their mother, Suffolk’s fourth wife, was Catherine, only daughter and heiress of William, tenth Lord Willoughby de Eresby. The year date on the elder boy’s portrait has been usually read as 1535. It is so given by Wornum and Woltmann, and other writers have followed them, but if the portrait represents Henry Brandon, the date is quite impossible. Mary Tudor, the “French Queen,” the Duke of Suffolk’s third wife, died on June 25, 1533, and in September of the same year Brandon married Catherine Willoughby, the mother of these two boys. In Burke, on the other hand, it is stated that the marriage took place in 1535; but this appears to be incorrect. The Dictionary of National Biography gives the date of the elder boy’s birth as September 18, 1535, which date is fixed by the inquisitio post mortem held after his father’s death in 1545; so that it is quite impossible that the lad could have been five years old in 1535. Mr. Ernest Law reads the date on the miniature as possibly 1539; to the writer, however, who has not had the privilege of examining the original, it appears, from careful examination of the excellent reproduction in Mr. Law’s book, to be either 1543 or 1545, the third figure being plainly a 4. Neither of these dates, however, can be correct, and it is quite possible that at some time the inscription, growing illegible, has been repainted, and that in so doing the restorer has made a mistake. The lettering on both miniatures lacks the precision of an original inscription by Holbein. It is generally assumed that the two dates, “6 Sep” and “10 Marci,” refer to the boys’ birthdays, and there is no difficulty with regard to the second boy, Charles, who was born in March 1538, two and a half years after his brother. The two miniatures have every appearance of having been painted at about the same time, and it is to be expected that the elder of the two would be painted first. The writer suggests, therefore, that the correct date of the portrait of Henry is September 1540, and that of Charles, March 1541.

The two boys were very carefully brought up in the Protestant faith by their mother. Martin Bucer, the German reformer, was appointed their tutor, and they were afterwards in the charge of Thomas Wilson, who became Secretary of State to Queen Elizabeth. At a later period Henry was sent to Sir John Cheke, and was educated 226with Prince Edward, and finally entered St. John’s College, Cambridge, where his brother afterwards followed him. While there the two boys contracted that scourge of the sixteenth century, the sweating sickness. On the occasion of the outbreak they were hastily removed for safety to the Bishop of Lincoln’s palace at Brickdon, in Huntingdonshire, but too late, for both developed the disease, and died together in one bed, on the same day, July 11, 1551, the younger within less than an hour of the elder. Their death at so early an age made an extraordinary impression at the time, and a pamphlet on the subject was published by their tutor, Dr. Walter Haddon. Peter Martyr said of Henry that, with the exception of Edward VI, he was the most promising youth of his day.

Vol. II., Plate 32
STUDY FOR A FAMILY PORTRAIT GROUP
Indian-ink wash drawing with brush outline
British Museum

There is a very beautiful drawing of the boys’ mother in the Windsor Collection,[497] a head turned three-quarters to the left, wearing the English angular head-dress with a band of pearls, and a second ornamented band of which part of the pattern has been drawn in detail by Holbein. The collar is elaborately braided with black velvet, and a medallion is indicated at the breast. The brown eyes and the hair have been put in with water-colour. The portrait for which it was the original study has not been traced. There is a replica of this head in the British Museum (No. 10),[498] which was formerly in the Robinson and Malcolm collections. In this connection, too, a second drawing in the British Museum may be cited, which represents a woman and children sitting on a bench (No. 8) (Pl. 32).[499] It is in Indian-ink on paper, 5¼ in. × 4¼ in., and comes from the Cosway and Utterson collections. It has been reproduced by the Vasari Society,[500] with a note by Mr. Campbell Dodgson, and by Dr. Paul Ganz.[501] Mr. Dodgson suggests that the scene represented is the interior of a church. An effect of warm sunshine is skilfully suggested by the light which falls from a window, not seen, on the right. The mother or nurse is seated in the centre of the group, on a high-backed bench with panelling of the Tudor “linen” pattern, a baby in long clothes held on her lap. On her right a boy with a flat cap and feather, and puffed sleeves, is seated, his left elbow resting on the arm of the bench. A little girl stands in front of her, looking up, and on the left a younger boy, 227dressed like his brother, is standing, the whole making a group of the greatest charm. It is described in the British Museum Catalogue as an admirable example of Holbein’s earlier Basel period, but it is evidently of later date, and the costumes are undoubtedly English. It has been recently suggested by Mr. Peartree that the woman is “Mother Jack,” nurse to Prince Edward.[502] In features and costume she bears considerable likeness to the unnamed drawing in the Windsor Collection,[503] which is supposed to be a portrait of that nurse. If this supposition be correct, the baby would be the Prince of Wales, and the date of the drawing about 1537; but this fails to account for the three other children. Dr. Ganz considers it to be a group of members of the Brandon family,[504] and as far as the two boys are concerned, this suggestion has something in its favour. The lad on the right is by no means unlike Henry Brandon. The position of the head and the left arm are exactly the same as in the miniature, and the dress has many points of resemblance. The second boy, too, has some likeness to Charles, though he does not wear the velvet-braided costume of the miniature. Again, however, there is a stumbling-block to this theory in the presence of the two younger children, for the Duke’s family by his fourth wife consisted of the two boys only. By his second marriage with Anne, daughter of Sir Anthony Browne, he had two daughters, Anne, afterwards Lady Powys, and Mary, afterwards Lady Monteagle, and by his third wife, the King’s sister, he had two other daughters, Frances, afterwards Countess of Dorset, and Eleanor, afterwards Countess of Cumberland, but these ladies were all too old for one of them to have been the little girl represented in the drawing. Owing, no doubt, to the wrong date on the miniature of Henry Brandon, Dr. Ganz ascribes this drawing to the year 1535, and sees signs in the elder boy’s face of approaching illness, although no such illness is recorded until the sudden one in 1551, when he was nearly sixteen. Both explanations are ingenious, but neither is entirely satisfactory. On the margin of the drawing, in a later hand, is written—“exaltate Cedrus. H. Holbein,” which, apparently, is a reference to Ecclesiasticus xxiv. 17, “Quasi cedrus exaltata sum in Libano.”

228The utmost perfection in miniature painting is to be found in the portrait of Mrs. Robert Pemberton (#Pl. 33 (1)pl-33#),[505] in the late Mr. J. Pierpont Morgan’s collection (No. iv.), which bears in every touch the unapproachable skill and rare individuality of the artist. It was formerly in the collection of Mr. C. Heywood Hawkins, and at his sale on May 15, 1904, realised £2750, afterwards passing into the possession of Mr. Morgan, by whose courtesy it is reproduced in this book. In the Hawkins Sale-Catalogue it was described as the portrait of Frances Howard, Duchess of Norfolk, but without authority, for there was no Duchess of Norfolk of that name in Holbein’s time. When exhibited by Mr. Hawkins at South Kensington in 1865, it was described in the catalogue as merely—“Portrait of a Lady, Anno Aetatis Suae 23. Her coat of arms is affixed to the case.” This coat, described by Sir Richard Holmes in the Burlington Magazine,[506] in a note accompanying a reproduction of the portrait, is dated MDLVI, and in style and painting is about a century later than the miniature. These arms, as Sir Richard first pointed out, are those of the Pemberton family. Further researches, undertaken by Dr. Williamson, and embodied in his catalogue of Mr. Pierpont Morgan’s Miniatures, prove, almost without doubt, that the lady represented was Mrs. Robert Pemberton. He says: “The arms of the wyverns’ heads which are quartered with those of Pemberton belong to the family of Jago di Lago, gentleman, of Newcastle-under-Lyme, Staffordshire; and Robert Pemberton, of Rushden, Northants, M.P. for Northampton in 1478, married Alice, daughter and co-heir of this Jago di Lago.... Major-General R. C. B. Pemberton, to whom I am indebted for these interesting references, is of opinion that the lady in the miniature is Margaret, daughter of Richard Throgmorton, of Higham Park, co. Northants, who was buried at Rushden, 27th October 1576. She married Robert Pemberton, of Pemberton, co. Lancs., and of Rushden, eldest son of William Pemberton, of the same places, and he died in September 1594. The arms would be those of this Robert Pemberton, whose grandfather certainly bore them.”[507]

Vol. II., Plate 33
MINIATURES

MRS. PEMBERTON
The Late Mr. J. Pierpont Morgan’s Collection

PORTRAIT OF HOLBEIN BY HIMSELF
Wallace Collection

229In this very beautiful little masterpiece the lady is shown three-quarters face to the right, wearing a black velvet bodice and small white linen cape, and a lawn collar and cuffs, embroidered with a geometrical design in black. She has a red carnation fastened in her dress, and round her neck a thin black cord with gold filigree ends, and holds a single green leaf in her crossed hands. Her hair, which is parted in the centre, is almost concealed beneath her white linen cap. The background is, as usual, blue, and across it, in gold letters, runs the inscription, “ANNO ETATIS SVÆ 23.” It is painted on the back of a playing card, and is still in its original frame, decorated with white and black enamel and three pearls.

The miniature in the Queen of Holland’s collection (Pl. 31 (5)) equals, if it does not surpass, in the brilliance and delicacy of its execution and in the subtlety of its characterisation, the portrait of Mrs. Pemberton; in some ways, indeed, it is the most perfect example of Holbein’s mastery of this branch of art which remains. Its discovery was due to Sir Richard Holmes, who, in 1903, first attributed it to Holbein, in a communication to the Burlington Magazine,[508] accompanied by a reproduction of the miniature. It forms one of a collection of some four hundred, of which about fifty are of English origin, in the royal collections of Holland at the Hague. It represents a youth of about fifteen or sixteen, who so far has not been identified. The head and shoulders only are shown, turned three-quarters to the spectator’s right, the eyes cast down. The hair is cut close, and the dress is a brown doublet trimmed with black, with a small open, falling collar with white strings attached. There is no inscription on the background. With the exception of slight discoloration of the collar through the oxidization of the pigment, this miniature is in faultless condition. “Its extraordinary power and beauty,” says Sir Richard, “were manifest at first sight, and a close examination has convinced me that it can be attributed only to Holbein, of whose work in this branch of portraiture I have long been a student, as well as of his crayon drawings. It has all the restraint of power so characteristic of him, and the exquisite delicacy of line combined with firmness and precision, which never united in the same degree in any master with whose work I am acquainted.”[509] The same writer suggested that it is possibly the portrait of a member of the family of one of the German merchants of the Steelyard. The facial characteristics, however, 230appear to be more English than German, and it most probably represents the son of some personage about Henry’s court. It was exhibited at the Exhibition of Miniatures in Rotterdam in 1910, and again at Brussels in 1912 (No. 846). Another fine miniature in the Queen of Holland’s collection, the portrait of an unknown man in black (Brussels Exhibition, No. 847), was first pointed out by Dr. Williamson in his History of Portrait Miniatures as very probably the work of Holbein; and since its exhibition at Brussels in 1912 the attribution has been accepted by some of the leading Dutch critics.[510]

A fine miniature portrait of the artist himself, painted in the last year of his life, is in the possession of the Duke of Buccleuch,[511] and was exhibited at the Royal Academy Winter Exhibition, 1879 (Case F, 25), and at the Burlington Fine Arts Club in 1909 (Case C, 23). It is a bust portrait, turned three-quarters to the left, the head facing the spectator. He is represented in the act of painting, the left hand supporting the right, and is dressed in a plain black costume with white pleated collar and cuffs, and a round black skull-cap. He has dark hair and a closely-cut beard. Across the blue background is inscribed, “H.H. AN. 1543. ÆTATIS SVÆ 45.” It was formerly in the collection of Horace Walpole, and at the Strawberry Hill sale in 1842 was purchased by Mr. W. Blamire, and when the latter’s collection was disposed of in 1863 it passed into the possession of the Duke of Buccleuch. It is one of the best of several similar miniatures, and is very fine in execution, and has been usually ascribed to Holbein himself. The best of all is in the Wallace Collection (Case B, 93) (Pl. 33 (2)),[512] and appears to be from the painter’s own hand. A number of copies are to be found in various collections; one of them, in the Mayer van den Bergh Collection, Antwerp, is reproduced by Dr. Ganz.[513] Woltmann considered that the Montagu House portrait was “scarcely the original, but an old and contemporaneous copy,”[514] but it is too excellent in execution to be the work of a mere copyist. There is a second and larger version in the Buccleuch Collection, with the same date, 1543, also attributed 231to Holbein. The first-named example may possibly be the small round mentioned by Van Mander as being in Amsterdam in his day. Lucas Vorsterman’s circular engraving was evidently based on this miniature or the somewhat larger portrait now lost,[515] of which the exceedingly poor likeness of the painter in the Uffizi Gallery gives but a feeble echo. The print follows the miniature closely, but is reversed, so that Holbein is represented as painting with his left hand. Hollar’s engraving, dated 1647, in which the painter’s left hand is omitted, was taken, according to the inscription, from an original in the collection of the Earl of Arundel, though Wornum was of opinion that it was based upon Vorsterman’s version. Both are described in an earlier chapter.[516] The inscription across the background in Hollar’s print—“HH. Æ 45. ANo 1543”—agrees with the second miniature in the Buccleuch Collection. Van Mander states that Holbein painted with his left hand, and in this Sandrart and Patin follow him, but that this was a legend is proved by the original miniature in which the artist has represented himself holding his brush. Vorsterman’s engraving, which appears to bear out Van Mander’s statement, through his failure to reverse his drawing on the wood block, if not the original source of the error, may have helped to spread it. Sir George Scharf, however, suggested another cause as the source of this tradition. “Most of the portraits of Henry VIII,” he says, “more especially those attributed to Holbein, have the light coming in from the spectator’s right, a circumstance which may have tended, in some degree, to establish the tradition that Holbein was left-handed. These are specified by Van der Dort as done upon the wrong light.”[517]

The discovery of another miniature by Holbein was made by Dr. G. C. Williamson in 1911,[518] and is one of exceptional interest, as it is an undoubted likeness of Thomas Cromwell, Earl of Essex, K.G. (Pl. 31 (6)). It came from a private source, and is now in the late Mr. Pierpont Morgan’s collection. It was fully described, and compared with other portraits of Cromwell, by Mr. Lionel Cust in the Burlington Magazine.[519] He is represented in a black cloak with fur 232collar, black cloth cap, and wearing the chain of the Garter with the pendant George. The background is blue. It is about two inches in diameter, painted on vellum or chicken-skin, pasted on card. “It is encased,” says Mr. Cust, “in an ivory box, carved on the back with a rose and other ornaments, similar to, though in no way so fine or so rich as, the ivory box which contains the miniature portrait of Anne of Cleves, lately bequeathed to the nation by Mr. George Salting, and now in the Victoria and Albert Museum. In the case, however, of Mr. Morgan’s portrait of Cromwell, the lower half of the box has been separated from the lid, cut down, and set in a gold frame, which is ornamented by a series of small deformed pearls. This gold framework is the work of a highly-efficient goldsmith, but hardly seems to date from the days of Henry VIII.” As Cromwell is shown wearing the Garter chain and badge, of which order he was made a knight in August 1537, the miniature was no doubt painted at some date between August and December in that year, to commemorate his election. In this connection it is of interest to note that in Cromwell’s accounts, preserved in the Record Office, there is an entry under 4th January 1538: “Hanns the painter, 40s.”[520] This payment would suggest that, in all probability, Holbein presented him with this miniature as a New Year’s gift, and that in return he received the forty shillings from his old patron as an acknowledgment.[521] The miniature is thus some three or four years later in date than the portrait at Tyttenhanger, painted not later than the spring of 1534, when he was Master of the Jewel House.[522]

Unfortunately this miniature has suffered severely during its past career, and has been so rubbed down that little of the details of the dress or ornaments can now be distinguished beyond the mere outlines. “The face,” says Mr. Cust, “is faded and also rubbed, but here the skilful drawing of the features reveals a master-hand which could be no other but Holbein’s. Very subtle, however, and recognizable are the distinctive features of Thomas Cromwell, the vulgar nose, with its sunken bridge, the cunning eyes with the puckered skin at their corners.”[523]

The scope of this book does not permit any detailed description of the very numerous miniatures of Henry VIII and the members of 233his family which are to be found in various collections in England, the more important of which have been publicly exhibited from time to time. In the royal collection in Windsor Castle there are four of the King himself, but none of them can be given to Holbein. Three of them appear to have been painted immediately before Holbein’s first visit to England, and the fourth shortly after his death. Two, in which Henry is beardless, and of youthful appearance, were in Charles I’s collection, and are entered in his catalogue as being among “the limned pictures which my Lord of Suffolk gave to the King.” One of them is inscribed, in two lines, “H.R. VIII. ANo ETATIS XXXVo,” which gives the date as 1525-6; the other, which it resembles closely, has no date, but merely “REX HENRICUS. OCTAVVS.”[524] The third Windsor miniature is inscribed “H.R. VIII. ANo XXXV.” In the spandrils four golden angels, on a bright red ground, are holding the letters H and K in golden cords, and linked with true-lovers’ knots. Sir George Scharf considered these initials to refer to the King’s last marriage, on July 12, 1543, with Catherine Parr, and the “XXXVo” as referring, not to Henry’s age, but to his regnal year. “The face,” he says, “at first sight looks youthful, but it is fat, and, on careful inspection, has a worn and very artificial appearance, as if means had been employed to conceal age.”[525] Mr. Wornum, on the other hand, considered the numerals to refer to the King’s actual age, and not to his reign, and the initial K to Katherine of Aragon.[526] It is only possible to say of the earlier of these miniatures that they are not the work of Holbein. As to the real author of them, the name of one or other member of the Hornebolt family can only be tentatively given, without any real proof in support of it, beyond the fact that the Hornebolts were settled in this country before 1526, the name appearing in the accounts of the expenses of the royal household in that year, and that there appears to have been no other foreign artist of like importance living in London at that date. Mr. Lionel Cust, in the Burlington Fine Arts Club Exhibition Catalogue, suggests the name of Jehan Perréal, or Jehan de Paris, as the possible author of some of the early portraits in miniature of the King, painted before Holbein’s arrival in England. Perréal was over here at the time of the marriage of 234Louis XII, whose official painter he was, with Princess Mary Tudor, for the purpose of designing the new Queen’s dresses. His visit, however, could have been but a short one, and does not account for miniatures of the year 1526.

The fourth miniature of the King at Windsor is in oils on oak, 2¾ in. in diameter, in which he is wearing a thin beard and whiskers. It is inscribed, “HENR. 8 REX. ANGL. ÆTA. S: 57.” Its date, therefore, must refer to the last year of the King’s reign, 1546, though there is a mistake in the age, as he never entered his fifty-seventh year. According to Charles I’s catalogue, it was “supposed to be done by Holben, and given to the King by my Lord Suffolk.” In type it corresponds very closely to the portrait of Henry in St. Bartholomew’s Hospital, London. There is yet another miniature of the King at Windsor, by Nicholas Hilliard, which appears to have been copied from some lost original by Holbein or by Hornebolt. It is one of the customary full-face versions, with beard, and is one of the four fine miniatures which were appended to an elaborate jewel which Hilliard executed in enamels and gold, possibly for Edward VI, representing the Battle of Bosworth Field, which was bought by Charles I from Laurence Hilliard, the painter’s son. The three other miniatures represent Henry VII, Jane Seymour, evidently copied from the well-known portrait by Holbein, and Edward VI, which recalls more than one of the portraits of the young King usually attributed to Guillim Stretes. The one of Henry VIII is inscribed in gold: “1536. ÆTATIS SVÆ 46.”

No less than five miniatures of the King were lent to the Burlington Fine Arts Club Exhibition by the Duke of Buccleuch, two of which are attributed to Holbein. One is a reduced copy of Holbein’s portrait of Henry belonging to Earl Spencer (Case C, 6). A second[527] is inscribed “H.R. VIII. ANo XXXV,” and appears to be the original from which the Windsor miniature, described above, was copied (Case C, 7). It was formerly in the Magniac Collection. The catalogue suggests that it is possibly the work of an illuminator of the French school. A third (Case C, 25), with a very similar inscription, is evidently a second copy of the same miniature. The fourth (Case C, 8 (D)), forms one of a series of eight in an ebony frame, which were formerly in the collection of Charles I. It is a full-face, with grey beard, and, according to the royal catalogue, was “done by Hans Holbein, 235given to the King by my Lord Suffolk.”[528] The companion miniatures represent Henry VII, Elizabeth of York (“copied by Hoskins after an ancient ould coloured piece”), Katherine of Aragon, Anne Boleyn (also copied by John Hoskins “after an ould colured piece”), Queen Mary (“done by Ant. More”), Edward VI, and Queen Elizabeth (“done by Old Hilliard”). The “Henry VIII” is fine, and in the Burlington catalogue is attributed to Holbein, but it is more probably another copy from “an ould coloured piece” by the master. It has considerable resemblance to the fifth miniature from Montagu House[529] (Case C, 2), also ascribed to Holbein, but not by him.

The very fine miniature portrait of the King in the Pierpont Morgan Collection was included in the same exhibition (Case B, 1).[530] Old tradition says that this portrait was presented by the King himself to Anne of Cleves. Tradition in this case may be correct, though this Queen is the least likely of all to have been the recipient of such a gift. The correspondence with reference to the suggested marriages with the Duchess of Longueville, the Duchess of Milan, and Anne herself, shows that Henry always refused to send a portrait of himself while such negotiations were in progress. His anxiety was to see a portrait of the lady first, and, if possible, the lady herself, before making his final decision, and to send one of himself before such final decision had been made would have been too compromising. It is not likely, therefore, that he sent one to Anne in Düren, and as he took the strongest aversion to her directly he saw her, it is still less probable that she received a gift of so personal a nature after she arrived in England. Dr. Williamson, in his catalogue of Mr. Morgan’s miniatures, gives a very interesting account of the history of this fine little portrait,[531] and the companion one of Anne of Cleves, both at one time in the possession of the Barrett family, of Lee Priory, Kent, and later in that of the Meyricks, of Goodrich Court, to which reference has been made in an earlier chapter.[532] Some years before the death of General Meyrick, who had succeeded to the Goodrich Court Collection, the miniature of Henry VIII disappeared, and was supposed to have been stolen. 236It is said to have travelled as far as Vienna, but four years or so after General Meyrick’s death it reappeared in England, and was repurchased for the family, from whom, in 1906, it was acquired by Mr. Morgan.

It represents the head and shoulders only, full-face, with grey beard and moustache. Henry wears a black cap trimmed with jewels, loops of pearls, and a white feather, a brown fur coat over a grey doublet embroidered with black, a narrow white collar, and a gold chain round his neck. There is no inscription on the blue background. It is 1¼ in. in diameter, and is still preserved within its original turned ivory box, ornamented at top and bottom with the Tudor rose, and covered with a piece of rock crystal. There is some resemblance between it and the crayon drawing of the King at Munich, and, in the details of the costume, to the large cartoon at Chatsworth and the full-face portrait in Windsor Castle, which has been considered by some critics to be a copy of a lost picture by Holbein, and by others as an original portrait by some such court painter as Lucas Hornebolt. The differences in the costume are slight, and the dress is in its main features the same. Fine as this miniature is, it is difficult to ascribe it to Holbein himself; it is more probably only an excellent old copy of a lost original, or the work of some capable miniaturist adapted from one of Holbein’s paintings.

The miniature of Anne of Cleves, which is slightly larger than the one of Henry VIII, and is enclosed within a similar turned ivory box delicately carved to represent a Tudor rose, has been already described.[533] It is of the finest workmanship, and may be given to Holbein with little hesitation. It was included in the Burlington Club Exhibition, 1909 (Case B, 4), and the catalogue states that in all probability it was painted in July 1539, at Düren. Holbein’s visit to that place was of longer duration than was usual when he was sent to take likenesses of the ladies who were candidates for Henry’s hand.[534] As a rule, he only remained just long enough to make a study in coloured crayons, but he stayed at Düren for a week or two, and so may have had time to paint both the large portrait and the miniature, though it must be remembered that he also painted or drew the lady’s sister, the Princess Amelia. It is much more probable that the miniature was taken from the larger portrait, or that both were done from some lost crayon study, 237than that the Louvre picture should have been painted from the miniature.

There are several miniatures of Queen Jane Seymour in existence, in most cases attributed to Holbein, all, with one exception, closely following the portrait of that Queen in the Vienna Gallery, upon which they are evidently based. Among the best are two which were in the Burlington Fine Arts Club Exhibition, lent by Mr. Vernon Watney and by the Duke of Buccleuch. The former (Case B, 2),[535] inscribed merely “AoN XXV,” is said to have belonged originally to the Seymour family, and to have been given by Charles, Duke of Somerset, to his granddaughter, Elizabeth Wyndham, wife of the Right Hon. George Grenville, from whom it passed into the possession of the Duke of Buckingham. It was afterwards in the Sackville Bale and Lumsden Propert collections. Sir George Scharf considered this miniature to be a portrait of Anne Boleyn, and regarded the “XXV” as the King’s regnal date, and not as that of the lady’s age;[536] but the likeness to Jane Seymour is stronger, though not very marked. Mr. C. F. Bell points out[537] that the likeness of the sitter to Lady Hemingham or Heveningham (“Henegham”), as she is represented in the fine drawing at Windsor,[538] is much more pronounced, and he suggests that the miniature was painted from the portrait of that lady, taken from the drawing, which has now disappeared. Mr. Watney’s miniature, however, closely resembles the one belonging to the Duke of Buccleuch (Case C, 5),[539] though the latter has no inscription and the pendant jewel set with large pearls is absent. This last portrait belonged to Horace Walpole, and by him was regarded as representing Katherine of Aragon, and under that name it passed from the Strawberry Hill sale into the hands of Mr. Blamire, and afterwards into its present ownership. It appears to be, however, an undoubted portrait of Henry’s third queen. Another miniature of Jane Seymour was lent to the same exhibition by Mr. H. Dent-Brocklehurst (Case B, 6),[540] attributed like the others to Holbein, which was also formerly in the possession of Horace Walpole. The portrait of this queen is also among the four miniatures attached to the enamelled 238jewel, of Nicholas Hilliard’s workmanship, in the royal collection at Windsor, mentioned above. It is inscribed “ANŌ DNĪ 1536 ÆTATIS SVÆ 27,” which no doubt appeared on the original miniature by Holbein, now lost, from which all these others are also derived.

The miniatures of Catherine Howard have been already described.[541] It is doubtful whether Holbein painted Queen Catherine Parr, for the King did not marry her until July 12, 1543, only a month or two before the artist died. A miniature in the possession of Mr. H. Dent-Brocklehurst, lent by him to the Burlington Fine Arts Club Exhibition (Case B, 7), is said to represent this Queen and to be by Holbein, but both attributions are probably incorrect. It is inscribed “ANO XXXII,” and if this is to be read as the regnal year, it must have been painted between April 1540 and April 1541, and, if it represents this Queen, more than two years before her marriage. She wears a scarlet, black, and white circular French hood with black fall, and cloth of gold dress. Sir George Scharf considered it to be a portrait of Catherine Howard.[542]

Several miniatures of Edward VI exist—there are three in the Buccleuch Collection—though not one has been so far discovered from the hand of Holbein himself. Most of them represent the boy at a period after Holbein’s death, and the name of Guillim Stretes has been suggested as their author.[543] The beautiful little circular drawing of the Prince, at a very early age, in the Basel Gallery,[544] is apparently Holbein’s first study for a miniature which has now disappeared, and may have been the “portrait of the Prince’s Grace” which the artist presented to Henry VIII on New Year’s Day, 1539.[545]

Certain of these miniatures, and others not described here, some of them apparently copies after Holbein, while others are original works, were no doubt produced by Susanna Hornebolt, Livina[546] Teerlinc, and Stretes, all three of whom were in turn much employed about the court, and enjoyed royal pay. It has been impossible, so far, to separate the works of these artists, or to find any starting-point in the shape of a signed miniature from which any judgment of their particular methods and style can be formed. What little is known of Susanna Hornebolt has been given in an early chapter. Livina Teerlinc, eldest daughter of the miniaturist, Simon Binnink of Bruges, married George Teerlinc of Blankenberghe, near Bruges, and after 239the death of her husband’s father, in 1545, they came to England.[547] She is mentioned by Vasari in a short passage as “Levina, daughter of the above-named Master Simon of Bruges, who was nobly married in England by Henry VIII, was held in great esteem by Queen Mary, and is now in much favour with Queen Elizabeth,” an account which Guicciardini copies and slightly elaborates.[548] Her name does not occur in the royal accounts, however, until Midsummer, 1547, under Edward VI, when, as “maistris Levyn Terling paintrix,” she received a quarter’s wages of £10. She held the same appointment under Mary and Elizabeth and at the same salary, £40 a year. On New Year’s Day, 1556, she presented Queen Mary with a small picture of the Trinity, and two years later her New Year’s gift to Queen Elizabeth was a portrait of her Majesty “finely painted upon a card,” for which she received in return a silver-gilt casting-bottle weighing 2¾ oz. In 1561, on a like occasion, there was given to the same Queen, “By Mrs. Levina Terling, the Queenes personne and other personnages in a box fynely painted,” which so pleased Elizabeth that she retained it in her own keeping, and gave “Maistris Levyn Terling” in return a silver-gilt covered salt-cellar weighing 5½ oz.[549] George Teerlinc returned to Bruges, and died there before 25th August 1580; and Mr. Weale conjectures that his wife died before him, probably in England, but there is no documentary evidence of this. In any case, Vasari, and Guicciardini after him, were wrong in stating that while at the English court she was “nobly married.”

In the case of Livina, as with Susanna Hornebolt, it is impossible to point with certainty to any work as being indubitably from her hand. The two beautiful miniatures in the Salting Collection representing two little girls, sisters, aged five and four respectively, which were formerly in the collection of Mr. C. H. T. Hawkins, were attributed by both these owners to Livina Teerlinc, and were so described in the catalogue of the Burlington Fine Arts Club Exhibition (Case B, 5).[550] The richness of the costume indicates that they were the children of some important personage about the court. Each one is dated “ANO DNI 2401590,” and they are enclosed in a contemporary turned ivory case. Dr. Williamson states that at one time they had attached to them “a strip of parchment on which was recorded, in handwriting undoubtedly contemporary, that the two little portraits were ‘fynely’ painted by Lavina Teerlinc in 1590 at Greenwich.”[551] It is impossible however, that miniatures painted in 1590 can be her work if Mr. Weale’s conjecture[552] that she died before 1580 is correct; but Dr. Williamson, who has been good enough to re-examine his notes, made when the miniatures were in the Hawkins collection, is now of opinion that the date on the parchment is not 1590, but 1570. The third figure is indistinct, but appears to be 7. If this is so, the attribution of these charming little works to Livina is very probably a true one, and the artist may still have predeceased her husband, as Mr. Weale surmises. There is an interesting miniature in Earl Spencer’s collection, signed with an “L,” and dated 1526, a double portrait, said to represent Sir John Boling and his mother, though the couple appear to be man and wife, which has been ascribed by some writers to Lucas d’Heere, though the date, of course, makes such authorship impossible. Mr. J. J. Foster[553] states that when he examined it he thought he could discern a “T” following the “L,” and suggests that it was the work of Livina Teerlinc; but this is equally impossible, for, according to Mr. Weale’s researches, she and her husband did not reach England until about 1545, while in 1526 she must have been a mere child.

There are several very interesting miniatures in the Pierpont Morgan Collection which, although they cannot be given to Holbein himself, are certainly of his school and period. One of the finest represents a Baseler named Arnold Franz, a man with a brown beard and moustache, dressed in black.[554] It is in a richly-enamelled gold frame with pendant pearls, and the sitter’s age, “AET. 32,” enamelled on the front, and on the reverse, “Arnold Franz, Holbein Pinx.” It was procured at the sale of a collection in Basel, and was stated to have been in the possession of the descendants of the sitter ever since it was painted. There was also an unbroken family tradition that Holbein himself had painted it, and that Franz, said to have been a 241printer and a friend of Froben’s, was intimately acquainted with the artist. The Franz family, now extinct, are also said to have possessed for many years a letter from Holbein to his friend, in which the miniature is mentioned, but the document has been lost.[555] A second miniature in Mr. Morgan’s collection is a portrait of Niklaus Kratzer, and is evidently by the same hand as the one of Arnold Franz. It is not a reduced version of the Louvre picture, which was painted in 1528, but appears, in Dr. Williamson’s opinion, to have been painted some years earlier than that date, though, if that be the case, it is not very likely that Holbein was its author. The face is nearly in profile, to the left, and the astronomer is wearing the customary fur-lined black coat and black cap, and a gold chain round his neck. In his hand he holds a brass armillary sphere. A third miniature, in the same possession, which has considerable affinity in style to the two just mentioned, represents Charles Brandon, Duke of Suffolk. It was formerly in the possession of the royal house of Holland, and afterwards in the Propert and Tomkinson collections. Dr. Williamson suggests that some of the Holbeinesque miniatures, such as these, which exist in considerable numbers, may have been the work of Hans Mielich (1515-1572), of Munich, who painted portraits and miniatures of some merit, and was for a time court painter to the Duke Albrecht V of Bavaria. There is no record, however, of any visit paid by him to England. Others may be possibly the work of such painters as Thomas and John Bettes and Guillim Stretes, who are dealt with in a succeeding chapter.[556]

There remains one other miniature to be noted, which until recently was regarded as the work of Hans Mielich, but is now, with apparent justice, given to Holbein. It is in the Bavarian National Museum, Munich, and represents a young man, turned slightly to the right, with a fair pointed beard and moustache, and wearing a black dress and cap. It is inscribed upon the blue background, on either side of the sitter’s head, “H.M. ÆTATIS SVÆ 27.”[557] It was once thought to be a portrait of Melanchthon, and afterwards, on account of the initials it bears, it was regarded as a portrait of Mielich by himself. Its attribution to Holbein was due to Dr. Hans Buchheit, the director of the 242National Museum, who published it in 1911 as a work of the painter’s later time. The initials upon it are undoubtedly those of the sitter, and not of the artist, and it has been suggested that it represents the painter, Harry Maynert, one of the witnesses to Holbein’s will.[558] Whether this is so or not, the miniature itself is a fine one, and, judging from a photograph alone, its attribution to Holbein by Dr. Buchheit must be accepted as the correct one.

The history of the book of drawings by Holbein in the royal collection at Windsor Castle—Early references to it—Sir John Cheke—The book’s various changes of ownership—Charles I exchanges it with the Earl of Pembroke for a Raphael—Afterwards in the Arundel Collection—Discovery of the drawings in Kensington Palace by Queen Charlotte—John Chamberlaine’s publication of them from engravings by Bartolozzi—Methods of their execution—Their present condition—Description of the more important of them—And of similar portrait-drawings at Berlin and Basel—Holbein and the Clouets—The “Queen of Sheba” miniature painting at Windsor—The “Death of Virginia” at Dresden—Drawing of a ship at Frankfurt—Drawings of animals.

IF, through some great misfortune, nothing remained of Holbein’s work but the wonderful series of drawings of the heads of the men and women of Henry VIII’s court, in the royal library at Windsor, this collection alone would still afford irresistible proof of his right to the title of one of the very greatest masters of portraiture. The history of these drawings can be traced with some exactness, though there are certain breaks in the continuity of the story. In whatever way they may have been preserved by Holbein during his lifetime, they were, shortly after his death, bound together in book form, and so remained until their rediscovery in the eighteenth century. Although they are not included in the elaborate inventory of the royal collection of works of art, dated 24th April 1542, or in the second inventory taken five years later, in the first year of Edward VI’s reign, it may be conjectured that they came into the possession of the Crown on Holbein’s death in 1543, or very shortly afterwards. His death was so sudden, that they may have been left behind in his painting-room at Whitehall, unknown to his executors, and so remained in royal keeping, though this is not a very likely surmise. It is certain, in any case, that the book containing them was at one time in the possession of Edward VI. This is proved by an entry in the Lumley inventory of 1590, to which reference has been already made more 244than once. The entry is as follows: “A greate booke of Pictures doone by Haunce Holbyn of certeyne Lordes, Ladyes, gentlemen and gentlewomen in King Henry the 8: his tyme, their names subscribed by Sr John Cheke Secretary to King Edward the 6 wch book was King Edward the 6.”

There is no reason to doubt the statement that the names on many of the drawings were supplied by Sir John Cheke, who, at one time professor of Greek at Cambridge, became one of the tutors of the young Prince before he ascended the throne, and died in 1557. He must thus have been intimately acquainted with a certain number of Holbein’s sitters, though not with all of them. This would account for the fact that although many of the names he has written on the drawings are the right ones, certain others are incorrect, while some fourteen of them are not named at all. He made mistakes, for instance, over some of the earlier drawings, such as several of the sitters in the More Family Group, with whom he was not likely to have been acquainted, and in some doubtful cases he probably indulged in guesswork. The late Sir Richard Holmes considered that he merely made a list of the drawings, which has not survived, and that from this list the names were inscribed on the sheets by some later hand.[559] There is an entry in the accounts of Sir Thomas Carwarden, Master of the Revels, preserved among the Loseley MSS., which very probably refers to this very book of drawings. The document is undated, but is considered to be of the reign of Edward VI. It is as follows: “Item for a peynted booke of Mr. Hanse Holby making, 6 li.” It is, of course, quite possible that this “peynted booke” may have had nothing to do with the Windsor drawings, but there is no other known work of Holbein’s to which the description would so well apply. The supposition that it was the very book, and that it was purchased by Sir Thomas for Edward VI, fits in well with the fact, established by the Lumley inventory, that the youthful monarch at one time possessed it. If this be so, the suggestion that Henry VIII obtained it immediately after Holbein’s death is, of course, incorrect.

It would appear that the book came into the possession of Henry Fitz-Alan, Earl of Arundel, after the death of Edward VI, either by 245gift or purchase, and was preserved at Nonsuch, together with the various portraits by Holbein, already mentioned, some of which were certainly at one time in the royal possession; and on his death in 1580, passed to his son-in-law, Lord Lumley. The palace and estate of Nonsuch reverted to the Crown in 1591, by exchange for other property, but at what time the numerous pictures by Holbein left the possession of the Lumley family is not known. At Lord Lumley’s death in 1609 the greater number of his books passed into the hands of Henry, Prince of Wales, elder brother of Charles I, and it is very probable that the “greate booke of Pictures doone by Haunce Holbyn” accompanied them, and once again formed part of the royal collections.[560] It is usually stated, however, that Charles I obtained them through the good offices of M. de Liancourt, the French ambassador, this statement being based on a note in Abraham Van der Doort’s catalogue of that monarch’s pictures, which, if correct, indicates that at some time between the drawing up of the Lumley inventory (1590) and the list of King Charles’ pictures (1639), the book of drawings had been taken into France, and so cannot have belonged to Henry, Prince of Wales. It seems certain, nevertheless, that this supposed journey to France and back again never took place. Mr. Lionel Cust’s suggestion is evidently correct, and the mistake has arisen through a confusion between Holbein’s book of drawings and a very similar book of drawings by a French hand, representing illustrious personages of the French court, both of which were in the King’s collection, and are separately described in Van der Doort’s catalogue. It was the latter book, no doubt, which was procured through M. de Liancourt, some such volume as that now at Knowsley, or the collection formerly at Castle Howard, now at Chantilly,[561] or the numerous albums of a similar kind scattered about France. Holbein’s book of drawings, on the other hand, came to Charles I from his brother.

The King, however, did not retain the volume for long, but exchanged it with the Earl of Pembroke for the beautiful little picture of “St. George slaying the Dragon,” by Raphael, which is now in the Hermitage Gallery, St. Petersburg. This latter is entered in Van der Doort’s catalogue as “A little St. George, which the King had in exchange of 246My Lord Chamberlain, Earl of Pembroke, for the book of Holbein’s drawings.” This picture was sold by the Commonwealth for £150, and after passing through the La Noue, De Sourdis, and Crozat collections, found a final resting-place in the Hermitage. In 1627, while still in the Earl of Pembroke’s possession, it was engraved by Lucas Vorsterman, so that the exchange with the King may have taken place in 1628 or thereabouts. Lord Pembroke, in his turn, did not keep the drawings, but almost at once passed them on to the great collector, Thomas Howard, Earl of Arundel, who, according to Sir Edward Walker, who wrote his life, had “more of that exquisite master, Hans Holbein, than are in the world besides.” Whether Lord Pembroke gave the drawings to him, or in his turn carried out a second exchange, is not known.

Their presence in the Arundel Collection is proved by a contemporary reference in the manuscript among the Harleian MSS.[562] in the British Museum entitled, “An exact & Compendious Discours concerning the Art of Miniatura or Limning,” on the fly-leaf of which is written, in an eighteenth-century hand, “of Limning by Hilliard,” to which attention has been already called.[563] As the Holbein drawings were still in the possession of Charles I in 1627, the paragraph in the “discours” which speaks of them as in the Arundel Collection cannot have been penned by Nicholas Hilliard himself, who died in 1619. The compiler was almost certainly Edward Norgate, who held Holbein in the highest estimation. Speaking of the painting of shadows, he says:—

“The black must be deepened with ivory black, and if in working in the heightenings and light-reflections, you will mingle with your ordinary black a little lake and indigo, or rather a little litmus instead of indigo, you will find your black to render a rare and admirable reflection like to that of the well-dyed satin, especially if your lights be strong and hard; the manner whereof if you please to see inimitably expressed, you will find abundantly for your content in the gallery of my most noble Lord the Earl of Arundell, Earl Marshal of England, and done by the incomparable pencil of that rare master, Hans Holbein, who in all his different and various manners of painting, either in oil, distemper, limning, or crayon, it seems was so general and absolute 247an artist, as never to imitate any man, or ever was worthily imitated by any.”[564]

The reference to the Windsor drawings occurs in the chapter dealing with crayon-painting. “I shall not need,” the writer says, “to insist upon the particulars of this manner of working; it shall suffice, if you please, to view of a book of pictures by the life, by the incomparable Hans Holbein, servant to King Henry the Eighth. They are the pictures of most of the English lords and ladies then living, and were the patterns whereby that excellent painter made his pictures in oil by; they are all done in this latter manner of crayons I speak of, and though many of them be miserably spoiled by the injury of time, and the ignorance of some who formerly have had the keeping of the book, yet you will find in those ruinous remains an admirable hand, and a rare manner of working in few lines and no labour in expressing of the life and likeness, many times equal to his own, and ever excelling other men’s oil pictures. The book hath been long a wanderer; but is now happily fallen into the hands of my noble lord the Earl Marshal.”[565]

A second contemporary reference to the drawings occurs in the Bodleian Library manuscript, Miniatura or the Art of Limning, etc., also by Edward Norgate, to which reference has been already made.[566] Norgate, when dealing with crayon drawings, says: “A better way was used by Holbein, by priming a large paper with a carnation or complexion of flesh-colour, whereby he made pictures by the life, of many great lords and ladies of his time, with black and red chalke, with other flesh colours, made up hard and dry, like small pencil sticks. Of this kind was an excellent booke, while it remained in the hands of the most noble Earl of Arundel and Surrey. But I heare it has been a great traveller, and wherever now, he hath got his errata, or (which is as good) hath met with an index expurgatorius, and is made worse with mending.”[567] That the book was described 248as a “great traveller” is, no doubt, due to the fact that from 1642 until his death, four years later, the Earl was living on the Continent, and that he took all his works of art with him. “After her husband’s death,” says Mr. Cust,[568] “the Countess of Arundel continued to reside at various places on the Continent, accompanied by her collections, until her own death at Amsterdam in 1654. Litigation then ensued between her sons as to the disposal of her property. A good part of the valuable Arundel Collection was disposed of in Holland by the Countess’s younger son, Lord Stafford, but a considerable part eventually returned to the family of the Duke of Norfolk in England.” There is every reason to suppose that among the latter the Holbein book was included.

It should be noted that, according to Charles I’s catalogue, the number of drawings was only fifty-four. Van der Doort may have made a mistake in the entry, putting a 5 instead of an 8, otherwise it must be supposed that Lord Arundel already possessed some thirty of these “heads,” which he added to the book after Lord Pembroke had given it to him. The collection as it now exists does not contain the whole of the portrait-drawings of Holbein’s English period. The fine head of Lord Abergavenny at Wilton appears to have been kept back, or to have been accidentally retained, by Lord Pembroke when he parted with the remainder of the collection, and there are several others in continental museums and elsewhere, some of which are known to have once formed part of the Arundel Collection. At Basel there are Sir Nicholas Carew, an unknown English lady, and a second English lady and her husband; at Dresden the Count Moretta; at Munich the head of Henry VIII; at Berlin a fine head of an unknown Englishman; in the Salting Collection the magnificent study of a lady already described;[569] and the two heads in the Duke of Devonshire’s Collection at Chatsworth.[570] If, therefore, Van der Doort is correct in stating that there were only fifty-four drawings in the book when it was in his keeping, the one person in England most likely to have added so considerably to their number was the Earl of Arundel, who was unceasing in his search for original works from Holbein’s hand. There is no record to show at what time the book returned to the royal collections, though the tradition noted by 249Dallaway, in his edition of Walpole’s Anecdotes, that they were purchased for James II at the sale of the possessions of Henry, Duke of Norfolk, in 1686, is no doubt the correct one.[571] A list of the drawings was included in James II’s catalogue, which was published by Bathoe in 1758. After this the drawings themselves were laid aside and forgotten, and it was not until early in the reign of George II that they were rediscovered by Queen Caroline hidden away in a folio in an old bureau in Kensington Palace, together with a volume of equal importance containing the drawings of Leonardo da Vinci, which now form so valuable a part of the royal collection at Windsor. Queen Caroline had them framed and glazed, and for many years they decorated her own apartments, first at Richmond, and afterwards in Kensington Palace. Early in the succeeding reign they were removed to the Queen’s House, now Buckingham Palace, where they were taken from the frames and bound up in two volumes, forming a part of the large collection of drawings, similarly bound, got together by George III. The suggestion that they should be engraved originated with Dalton, the keeper of the King’s drawings, but the work was so badly done that it was abandoned in 1774 after ten plates only had been issued. The engraver was George Vertue, who, according to Walpole, was the originator of the project. “It is a great pity,” he says, “that they have not been engraved; not only that such frail performances of so great a genius might be preserved, but that the resemblances of so many illustrious persons, nowhere else existing, might be saved from destruction. Vertue had undertaken this noble work; and after spending part of three years on it, broke off, I do not know why, after having traced off, on oil paper, but about five and thirty. These I bought at his sale; and they are so exactly taken as to be little inferior to the originals.”[572] This tracing was done by Vertue and Müntz when the drawings were hanging in Queen Caroline’s room at Kensington. There were thirty-four of them, and they were framed and hung in what Walpole called his Holbein Chamber at Strawberry Hill. Somewhat later the projected publication was taken up again more successfully, on the suggestion, according to Dallaway, of Horace Walpole, under the direction of John Chamberlaine, who succeeded Dalton as keeper of the drawings. The engravings were published between 1792 and 1800 in fourteen 250numbers, containing eighty-two portraits, forming two large folio volumes, under the title of Imitations of Original Drawings by Hans Holbein, in the Collection of His Majesty, for the Portraits of Illustrious Persons of the Court of Henry VIII, with Biographical Tracts. The historical notices were written by Edmund Lodge, Lancaster Herald, and the plates, with the exception of eight, were engraved by F. Bartolozzi, R.A. F. C. Lewis was also engaged to take part in the work, but his plate of “Cecilia Heron” was in all ways so much finer than Bartolozzi’s efforts that Chamberlaine had the plate destroyed, fearing that if it were published side by side with the others, the latter would suffer so severely from the contrast that the success of the publication would be endangered. As transcripts of Holbein’s drawings, Bartolozzi’s engravings have very little artistic merit. Many of them, indeed, have small likeness to the originals, and all of them lack the strength and character and the searching truth of line which make the drawings themselves such masterpieces of art. In more recent years the drawings have been frequently photographed and published, the most important series being that issued by Mr. F. Hanfstaengl in two volumes, with an introduction and descriptive notes by the late Sir Richard Holmes, F.S.A. It should be added that under Queen Victoria the two volumes were broken up, and the drawings properly mounted and arranged. They are now kept in four portfolios.

In Walpole’s day the collection consisted of eighty-nine sketches, but in more recent times two have been withdrawn, as the work of Jacob Binck. One of the two heads of Sir Thomas Wyat is only a good, careful copy of the other, in which the hair of the beard is drawn with great elaboration, from the hand of some follower or imitator of Holbein, and in one or two other cases the drawings are, perhaps, only copies of lost originals, or even original drawings by some other hand, such as the so-called “Melanchthon,” with its faltering line, which lacks much of Holbein’s customary strength and certitude.

The drawings were executed in almost all cases in black and coloured chalks. During his first visit to England Holbein used, as a rule, white paper, the outlines being drawn in black and the features modelled in red chalk. The series of heads of members of Sir Thomas More’s family, and contemporary drawings such as the Warham and Guldeford, are done in this manner. Later on it was his custom to use a paper 251covered entirely with a ground of flesh or salmon colour, upon which the features were modelled in black chalk, and slight touches of red, after which the outlines were strengthened and the details of the hair, dress, and ornaments put in with pen or brush and Indian-ink. In some cases the whole face was completely modelled with the greatest delicacy, and as a rule the eyes, hair, and beard were drawn in with water-colour or coloured crayons in their natural hues. Upon a number of the drawings the colour and material of the costume worn by the sitter are indicated by notes in Holbein’s own handwriting, and in some of them details of the ornaments or embroideries have been drawn on the margin of the sheet with the brush with the sure and rapid hand of a master. In one instance—the portrait of John Godsalve—the drawing is entirely finished in water-colours, and the figure is shown against a blue background; and in one of the two heads of Sir Thomas More the holes with which it was pricked for tracing on the panel can still be seen. The earlier drawings are usually the largest, the one last-named being about 16 in. high by 12 in. wide. The Warham is 17 in. by 12 in., the Guldeford 15 in. by 11 in., and the Godsalve the same size. One of the largest of all is the Jane Seymour, which is 20½ in. by 11 in.

“Some have been rubbed,” says Walpole, “and others traced over with a pen on the outlines by some unskilful hand.”[573] In a few instances, it is true, these strengthening touches appear to be by some other hand than Holbein’s, but in most of the drawings they are just as certainly his. The studies have suffered considerable damage during the passage of time. They are stained, and many of them badly rubbed, so that the more delicate modelling and colouring carried out in crayons has almost vanished. In consequence the brush-work, which has better withstood rough usage, at first sight appears to be a little hard, and in some instances even coarse, thus slightly marring that perfect harmony of effect which characterised the drawings when fresh from the artist’s hand. The finer details have been worn away, leaving certain lines more prominent than Holbein intended. A closer study, however, as Sir Richard Holmes points out, shows that it is to the wonderful strength and delicacy combined of these touches that the portraits owe the vivid and life-like quality which they so pre-eminently possess. “On some of the heads these 252touches occur only on the eyes, nostrils, and lips, where the marvellous accuracy of modelling, particularly in the corners of the mouth, is not to be excelled in the work of any other master.”[574] It must be remembered, too, that these studies were, in almost all cases, working drawings, done for transference or for copying on the panel, and are in that sense not finished works, some parts and details being emphasised more strongly than others. In certain of the drawings the beard and the hair have been put in with the brush with that careful and elaborate detail with which such features were usually carried out by Holbein in his finished portraits; for instance, in the long beard of Sir Thomas Wyat or the close-cut hair of Simon George. In other drawings the unshaven stubble on a man’s chin or upper lip is put in with a few masterly strokes. Here and there high lights have been indicated with a touch of white, as in the heads of Lord and Lady Vaux. It may be taken, then, that in the greater number of cases, the only hand which can be traced in these drawings is that of Holbein himself, dimmed here and there by the passing of the years, or rough or careless usage at some time or other during their earlier wanderings. Certain critics, however, consider that in many of them, some later hand has attempted to revivify the fading lines, with results quite contrary to those intended. Mr. Campbell Dodgson, speaking of the lovely head of an Englishwoman in the Salting Collection, describes it as being “entirely free from the retouching which disfigures many of the Windsor heads.”[575] Mr. Gerald Davies is also among those who consider that the drawings have been retouched by some other hand than Holbein’s. “I am quite persuaded,” he says, “that the strengthening of the outlines, either by chalk lines or in many cases by Indian-ink, is not due to the hand of Holbein himself. Among the drawings are a few which have never been so touched. The lines of these are of great delicacy and of the most expressive quality—an artistic dream which has almost faded from the paper. These are the select few which, having suffered most from rubbing, and having the faintest indications to guide the hand of the reinforcer, have been left in their ghostly beauty. Others have been revived by the application of a bolder chalk line of the proper colour in parts where the outline seemed most to need it. It has been done on the whole well, if 253such a thing can ever be said to have been well done at all. But these same lines will be found to be hard and wiry, and somewhat unfeeling as compared to the subtly sympathetic outline of the master himself. There remains yet the further manner of reinforcement by a strong outlining, often accompanied by a slight thickening in parts by means of a wash, in what appears to be Indian-ink. The ink has toned now, and has lost much of the offence of its once strong contrast with the rest of the delicate modelling. But remembering what that contrast would have been when the ink was fresh, I find it impossible to believe that it was added by the hand of Holbein.”[576] Mr. Davies suggests that this Indian-ink strengthening took place when the drawings came into the hands of Charles I, and that possibly Wenceslaus Hollar was employed for the purpose. It is difficult to follow him in this suggestion of Hollar’s retouching, nor can the writer agree with him in his opinion that a more or less wholesale retouching of the drawings has ever been undertaken by any hand than that of Holbein himself. A more credible suggestion is that of Mr. Lionel Cust, who says: “It is very probable that the drawings were refreshed by outlines very soon after Holbein’s death, if not by the painter himself. Since that date the most likely time for them to have suffered any alteration would have been after their rediscovery at Kensington, when they were for a time in the hands of George Vertue, an expert crayon-artist himself as well as engraver.”[577]

Some part of the damage done to them may have been due to wear and tear in the artist’s own studio, for it is possible that he employed an assistant or two; though if that had been the case, it is strange that there is no record among the State papers of a licence granting him leave to employ journeymen, such as was necessary under the Act dealing with foreign residents. It is possible, too, though far from probable, that he may have had one or two pupils—though here again there is no record of them—who would copy his drawings, and might be entrusted occasionally with the tracing of the drawings upon the panel, or even in painting parts of the replicas of portraits which must sometimes have been ordered. It is evident that these drawings were made solely for the artist’s own purposes, both in order to avoid a too frequent attendance of his sitters at his studio, and also because it was the method of working which best suited him. They remained, 254therefore, in his own possession, and were never handed over to his patrons. The fashion of collecting portraits of celebrities which was in vogue in France throughout the sixteenth century was only imitated in a very minor degree in England. In France, as M. Dimier points out, “the result of this rage for portraits was that people were not content with the necessarily limited number of originals. The works of the masters of the time were copied and recopied a hundred times, often by unskilful and sometimes by absolutely clumsy hands. This was the case not only with the portraits of kings and queens, which have been multiplied thus in all ages, but with those of any one at court—a feature which is peculiar to the period under consideration. Not even the number of painted portraits and painted copies was enough; there was a demand for quicker and cheaper satisfaction. The original chalk-drawings were copied, in the same medium, an infinite number of times, far oftener, indeed, than the paintings; and these drawings were commonly bound into albums and preserved as family treasures. A vast number of these albums must have perished, but a vast number still exist.”[578] Nothing of this kind occurred on this side of the Channel. Holbein’s original drawings, after his death, were preserved in a volume in this fashion, but they formed an unique example. Though copies or duplicates of one or two of them exist, such as the John Fisher and the Duchess of Suffolk in the British Museum, the Guldeford, Fisher and Poyntz formerly in the Heseltine Collection, and the head called Sir Charles Wingfield in the collection of Sir John Leslie, Bart., recently published by Mr. Lionel Cust,[579] the collection as a whole was never copied in this way, as it would have been in France. It is doubtful if most of these duplicates, fine as they are, are actually from Holbein’s own hand.

It may be taken for granted that portraits were painted from nearly all these Windsor studies, more than eighty in number, though possibly a few, drawn during the last months of his life, were not carried out in this way. It is, therefore, a little extraordinary that less than thirty of such finished oil portraits have so far been traced, the remainder having disappeared; and of these latter only about one half are original paintings by Holbein, the remainder being copies of lost originals. Among the first-named we have Jane Seymour, Catherine 255Howard, the Prince of Wales, Sir Thomas More, Warham, Guldeford, Southwell, John Godsalve, Reskimer, Simon George, Lady Vaux, Lady Rich, Lady Butts, Lady Audley (miniature only), and one or two others; in the second class the More Family Group is the most important, there being no less than seven studies for this great work at Windsor, including the one of Sir Thomas himself.

There still remain more than fifty drawings in England alone of which no paintings are known. It seems impossible that the whole of these pictures should have perished. Some of them, it is to be hoped, may yet be discovered, hidden away in some remote country house, perhaps obscured by dirt and disfigured by repaintings, so that hitherto they have remained unrecognised. It is not very likely that drawings of this size were made as preliminary studies for miniatures, or otherwise this might account for some of the missing portraits, as such small works would be much more easily lost than panel paintings. It is true that in a few instances, such as the portraits of Lady Audley and the Earl of Abergavenny, we have miniatures closely following the drawings, but no large portraits; but it does not follow that the latter were not painted.

On the other hand, there are a considerable number of Holbein’s portraits—between thirty and forty—for which no preliminary studies remain, and these range over every period of his career. This, however, is not so extraordinary, for drawings disappear more easily than pictures. In some instances, too, their absence may be explained by the artist’s method of work. It was his occasional habit, more particularly in the earlier half of his career, to fasten down the preliminary study upon the panel, and use it as the ground-work of his painting, so that the drawing naturally was lost. The portrait of his wife and children at Basel has been carried out in this way, and the Anne of Cleves in the Louvre is painted on vellum or parchment, afterwards mounted on canvas. This, however, was not his more regular practice, which was to transfer the study to the panel by tracing or pricking. Not a single study exists for any one of the portraits of the German merchants of the Steelyard, or for such portraits as the Duchess of Milan, Jean de Dinteville and the Bishop of Lavaur, Kratzer, Thomas Godsalve, Sir Henry Wyat, Cromwell, Tuke, the Duke of Norfolk, Cheseman, Dr. Chamber, and the painted portraits of various unknown men at Berlin, Vienna, Basel, and elsewhere. For 256the portraits of Erasmus there is only a study for the hands, while there is no drawing for the Amerbach or Froben. On the other hand, among a number of fine drawings in continental museums there are, in addition to the two earlier and three later ones of the members of the Meyer family, only two—the Morette in Dresden and the Sir Nicholas Carew in Basel—of which the finished paintings still exist.

There is no doubt that Holbein’s practice as a portrait painter during his second and longer residence in England was almost entirely confined to the court and to those who were in the King’s employment. The Windsor drawings, a number of which have been described in previous chapters of this book, make this sufficiently clear. Included among the heads which have not been described are John Russell, Earl of Bedford; Sir William Parr, afterwards Marquis of Northampton; Thomas Boleyn, Earl of Wiltshire and Ormonde; Edward Stanley, Earl of Derby; George Brooke, Lord Cobham; Thomas, Lord Vaux; Sir Thomas Parry; Sir William Sherrington; Sir Thomas Wentworth; Edward, Lord Clinton; Sir Thomas le Strange; Sir George Carew; Lord Chancellor Rich, and others; and among the ladies, Lady Parker, Lady Ratcliffe, Mary Zouch, Lady Rich, Lady Henegham, the Marchioness of Dorset, Lady Mewtas, Lady Monteagle, and Lady Borough.

Vol. II., Plate 34a
UNKNOWN ENGLISHMAN
Drawing in black and coloured chalks
Windsor Castle

Vol. II., Plate 34b
WILLIAM PARR
Marquis of Northampton
Drawing in black and coloured chalks
Windsor Castle

The study of William Parr, Marquis of Northampton (Pl. 34 (2)),[580] is one of the few in which the hands are shown. The head, with close-cropped hair and short, round beard, has suffered from rubbing, but remains a fine and strongly individualised study of character. The dress and jewellery are indicated with some elaboration, to which are added notes in Holbein’s handwriting, and detailed sketches of his hat ornaments and other jewellery are drawn in the margin. The medallion he wears appears to be of open-work with a figure of St. George, and one of the links of his chain is inscribed with the word “Mors.” In the Thomas Boleyn,[581] also, the right hand is shown, and the dress is drawn with much more detail than in most of the companion drawings, while the face is one of the most carefully elaborated in the whole series, the individual hairs of the beard and moustache being indicated with minute precision. Equally careful drawing of the hair is to be seen in the head of Lord Stanley,[582] with its expressive face and fine 257eyes. Another very powerful drawing is the full-face portrait of Lord Cobham,[583] with open doublet showing his bare chest, a head of most striking individuality. One of the most beautiful among the more finished studies is that of Lord Vaux (Pl. 35),[584] in which the hair, cut straight across the forehead, and the beard and moustache are put in with almost microscopic detail, as well as the design upon the white collar with its strings of black and white cord. There is a second study of Lord Vaux[585] in the collection. It is, of course, impossible to give even a short description of the whole of the drawings, but among the numerous studies of “unknown men” two in particular cannot be overlooked. The one is the head of a handsome young man with a long, sharp nose,[586] thin whiskers, and a small beard, the head turned slightly to the right, and both eyes shown (Pl. 34 (1)). He wears large ostrich feathers in his black hat, which has a medallion, the design not indicated, and gold tags. The dress, very roughly sketched in, is badly rubbed. The drawing is one of great beauty, very delicate and refined in its treatment and feeling. The second, to which reference has been already made, is the very striking likeness of a man with a flat, broad nose, bushy, curly beard, and hair falling over the ears, his eyes cast slightly downwards, one of the most powerful drawings in the Windsor Collection, which Miss Hervey suggests is possibly a study for a second portrait of Jean de Dinteville (Pl. 36# (1)).[587] Dr. Paul Ganz considers the sitter to be a man of pronounced southern French type, and probably a member of the French embassy which was in London in 1533.[588] It is just as probable, however, that this unknown nobleman was English, for the type, though unusual, is to be met with occasionally.

Vol. II., Plate 35
THOMAS, LORD VAUX
Drawing in black and coloured chalks
Windsor Castle

Vol. II., Plate 36a
UNKNOWN MAN
(said to be Jean de Dinteville)
Drawing in black and coloured chalks
Windsor Castle

Vol. II., Plate 36b
MARY ZOUCH
Drawning in black and coloured chalks
Windsor Castle

Vol. II., Plate 37a
LADY AUDLEY
Drawing in black and coloured chalks
Windsor Castle

Vol. II., Plate 37b
LADY MEWTAS
Drawing in black and coloured chalks
Windsor Castle

Vol. II., Plate 38
“THE LADY HENEGHAM”
(Possibly Margaret Roper)
Drawing in black and coloured chalks
Windsor Castle

Among the portraits of ladies it is unfortunate that several of the finest have suffered from bad rubbing. Such an one is the head of Mary, daughter of the Duke of Norfolk, and wife of the King’s natural son, Henry, Duke of Richmond, which has been already described.[589] The fine head of Lady Mewtas (Pl. 37# (2)),[590] the face a strong 258one, is very delicately modelled, and unspoilt by the presence of too forcible outlines. Her jewelled ornaments include a circular pendant with five dark table stones and three hanging pearls, suspended from a thin chain, with beads round the neck, a circular medallion at the breast with a figure subject now almost obliterated, and across the top of the bodice a band of pearls set in groups of five like flowers. The incorrectly-named “Lady Mary, after Queen,”[591] whom it certainly does not represent, is another fine drawing which has suffered considerable damage. It has been gone over with the tracing point for transference to panel, but no painting after it is now known to exist. The same is the case with the head of the Marchioness of Dorset,[592] the daughter of Charles Brandon and the King’s sister, Mary, which also shows indications of tracing. This is a good example of a drawing in which the fine modelling of the face has now almost disappeared, so that the darker lines stand out too insistently. There is most brilliant and subtle drawing of the eyes, nose, and mouth in the very expressive and beautiful head of the so-called Lady Henegham (Pl. 38),[593] wife of Sir Anthony Hemingham or Heveningham, of Ketteringham in Norfolk, which remains in very excellent condition. She wears a small pendant ornament with one hanging pearl at her neck, and on the breast an upright oval medallion with a figure within a Renaissance framework. It has been suggested that this fine head really represents Margaret Roper, and the features are not unlike those of several members of the More family; but against this attribution must be placed the fact that the drawing, unlike all the other studies for the family picture, is not on white paper. Among the best of the other heads of women are Lady Parker,[594] Lady Lister,[595] Lady Rich,[596] Lady Elyot,[597] Lady Audley, already described (Pl. 37 (1)), an unknown lady, wearing a white cap or bonnet covering the hair and ears and reaching to the chin[598]—a large drawing on white paper, something of 259the type of the More family, but rather more freely drawn—and Mary Zouch (Pl. 36 (2)).[599] The last-named is one of the most attractive of the whole series. The face, seen in full, is modelled with extreme delicacy and expression. She wears a French circular hood with bands of ornament over her smooth, yellow hair, parted in the middle and covering the ears. Her dress is of black velvet, as noted in Holbein’s handwriting, and the medallion at her breast, surrounded with a Renaissance framework, has an almost obliterated subject, apparently a female figure with flying draperies seated on a rock, possibly Perseus and Andromeda. This drawing is inscribed “M. Souch,” and Sir Richard Holmes, following Wornum, suggests that the drawing represents Joan, wife of Richard Zouch, son of Lord Zouch of Haringworth. It is, however, more probably Mary Zouch, a member of the same family, who was a maid of honour to Jane Seymour, and, after the Queen’s death, received an annuity of £10 on April 6th, 1542, in recognition of her services, which was to be continued until she “was married or otherwise provided for.”[600]

The Berlin Print Room possesses a remarkably fine portrait-drawing of an unknown Englishman,[601] with deep blue eyes, straight brown hair, a scanty beard, and a thoughtful, expressive face, slightly turned to the left. He wears a small flat cap, unornamented, and the usual gown with heavy fur collar. Only slight touches of colour have been used on the eyes, hair, and lips, and the paper has been covered with a pale red wash.

Among the portrait-drawings in the Basel Gallery, some fourteen in all, most of which have been already described, the finest is perhaps that of an unknown young man in a large, broad-brimmed black hat,[602] which is certainly one of the most beautiful of his drawings now existing (Pl. 39). The sitter, a handsome and dignified man, with a large, straight nose, and refined features—evidently a man of culture of the type of Bonifacius Amerbach—is turned to the left, the face seen almost in profile, though both eyes are shown. The lips of the mobile mouth are slightly parted, and the expressive eyes gaze into the distance, 260as though he were lost in thought. The brown, bushy hair, which covers the ears and falls over the forehead, is drawn with rapid, masterly touches, and the profile of the face stands out with great effect against the dark background formed by the underside of his large hat. The flesh tints are suggested with simple but subtle touches of the chalk. The dress is merely sketched in with a few lines, though the brown fur collar of his coat is sufficiently indicated just where it comes under the beardless chin. This superb drawing, in which the artist has seized upon and set down with unerring insight the finest traits of the sitter’s character, is in black and coloured chalks. The type of face, in the opinion of Woltmann and Dr. Ganz, is distinctly German. From its technique, which, on the one hand, has much in common with the later studies of the Meyer family made for the Darmstadt “Madonna,” and on the other with the drawings for the More Family Group, it may be surmised that this study was made in Basel shortly before Holbein left for his first visit to England. It has much in common, too, with the coloured drawing in Basel of Holbein himself, and it may be noted, as a small point, that the hat the unknown youth is wearing is similar to the one the artist wears, though rather larger, and is of a different fashion from the black head-gear worn by Holbein’s English sitters.

Among the other portraits of unknown personages at Basel are two heads of an Englishman and his wife,[603] and a third, still finer, of a lady wearing the angular English head-dress and black fall, who was evidently a member of the court circle.[604] This drawing, which is also in black and coloured chalks, must be placed among the best of Holbein’s studies of women. It has been conjectured that it represents Lady Carew, and also Lady Guldeford. The equally beautiful drawing of Sir Nicholas Carew[605] has been described already. All the drawings just mentioned form part of the Amerbach Collection, and it may be suggested, though the suggestion is not a very plausible one, that at least those of them which represent English people were taken to Basel by Holbein himself, on one or other of his visits home, and were left behind when he returned to England, together with the sketch-book, 261also in the Amerbach Collection, which is undoubtedly of the English period; or, on the other hand, they may have been sent over from London to his widow with his personal belongings by his executors after his death.

Vol. II., Plate 39
PORTRAIT OF AN UNKNOWN YOUNG MAN
Drawing in black and coloured chalks
Basel Gallery

Altogether apart from their artistic merits, these drawings of Holbein’s are of the utmost historical value, both on account of their number, including as they do so many of the leading characters who played a part in the making of England in Tudor days, and also because of the perfection of their draughtsmanship and the corresponding life-likeness of their portraiture, so that they form true documents in every sense of the word. Holbein’s genius shows us Henry’s ministers and the lords and ladies who surrounded him, just as they were in life, without any attempt at flattery, but with every feature set down with unfaltering truth, and, above all, with a grasp of character which the portrait drawings of no other great master of his period show in the same degree. He has left behind, as a mine of wealth for the use of the student of history, in drawings alone, without taking into account his numerous painted portraits for which no drawings now exist, a series of more than one hundred representations of Tudor men and women. In only one other instance can we turn to a similar series of contemporary portraits—the chalk drawings of French men and women of the same century by the two Clouets, Jean and François, father and son. These, though of the utmost value as historical portraiture, and also of great beauty and even fascination as works of art, fall short of the greatness which stamps Holbein’s work of a like nature. The elder Clouet had not his mastery of drawing; his knowledge was more limited and his means more restricted. His drawings have “a stiffness and dryness which are very far from the flowing and supple handling of the Basle master.”[606] His son had considerably more science. “His drawing in reality is extremely profound, and as exactly calculated as any known. In tracing the human face and all the parts presented by the model, he has the ability of a specialist, whose long practice of an art that is deep rather than wide has enabled him to accumulate a mass of information and experience. He reaches perfection in the proportion of the features, in the exact placing of all the fine fugitive, mobile parts of the face, in the careful study of the extremely subtle relations from which the mass of form draws its solidity, 262and in skill in constructing the unity of impression of a face and of a type.”[607] He has little or nothing, however, of Holbein’s beauty of style. Holbein’s drawings are matchless in the delicacy of their modelling, every little depression or prominence in the contours of the face being indicated with an exactitude and a simplicity of means unrivalled in work of such nature; and also for the way in which this delicacy of touch in handling the crayon, and subtlety and precision of the strengthening lines with brush or pencil, are combined with the wonderful vigour and sense of life with which each individual drawing is filled. Added to their truthfulness in portraiture there is that remarkable insight into the true nature and feelings of the sitter which is one of the greatest qualities of Holbein’s art. It is owing to the knowledge and mastery which are the basis of these Portrait-Studies—studies usually made with rapidity, but in which nothing essential has been missed by the penetrating eye and unerring hand of the artist—that so perfect a result is obtained with means apparently so slight. Delicacy and strength meet in them in exquisite combination; the flexibility and refinement of his line are always kept well under control, and there is no over-elaboration of detail to the detriment of character. Each drawing bears upon it the stamp of a style, and of a great style, which was Holbein’s own individual possession, in which freedom and truth are tempered and perfected by self-restraint.

Vol. II., Plate 40
THE QUEEN OF SHEBA’S VISIT TO KING SOLOMON
Silver-point drawing washed with colour
Windsor Castle

To attempt even a list of Holbein’s more important drawings other than his portrait-studies would be quite beyond the scope of this book, in the course of which, however, many of them have been touched upon; but there still remain several which cannot be passed over in silence. Chief among them is the small drawing on parchment, highly finished like a miniature, in the Library, Windsor Castle, which represents the “Queen of Sheba’s visit to King Solomon” (Pl. 40).[608] It is a composition containing no less than thirty-four small figures, and so, after the wall-paintings in the Basel Town Hall and the “Triumphs” of the London Steelyard, is one of the most considerable arrangements of grouping ever attempted by him. King Solomon is seated on a throne on a high daïs approached by a number of steps within a large chamber, the roof of which is supported by slender columns 263of Renaissance architecture. Behind the throne is suspended a large curtain, and on the steps on either side are placed groups of the elders and long-bearded wise men of Solomon’s kingdom. In the centre the Queen mounts the steps, her hands outstretched as though in wonder and admiration of the great king. In the foreground a procession of her ten ladies, walking two and two, passes towards the left, and on the right are a group of her attendants bearing rich presents, some of them kneeling with uplifted baskets. The drawing is in silver-point, slightly washed with grey and brown, and touched here and there with water-colour; the fruits in one of the baskets are red and green, and some of the draperies and details are touched with dead gold. The background between the pillars is blue powdered with gold stars. The Renaissance architecture of the setting is purer and less florid in style than is the case with many of Holbein’s earlier studies for glass paintings. The figures of the women are gracefully conceived and grouped, and the heads of the men have character and expression. In its general arrangement the upper half of this miniature drawing recalls the “Rehoboam” wall-painting in the Basel Town Hall, though the setting is more richly treated; while in the general gracefulness of its design it is Italian in feeling, and has close affinity to the “Triumph of Riches” drawing for the decoration of the Steelyard. It was probably done at about the same date as the latter, perhaps as a present for the King, the subject having been chosen as conveying a subtle and flattering suggestion that Henry and Solomon were alike in their possession of great wisdom. It is finished with such minute care that it does not seem likely that it is merely the preparatory sketch for some larger picture or wall-painting. There is no record of any wall-decoration of this subject, either in the Steelyard or at Whitehall, though Holbein may have had some idea when at work upon it that it might serve for such a purpose afterwards if it met with the King’s approval; or, on the other hand, it may be a miniature copy from one of his frescoes in grisaille, which has disappeared, made by Holbein himself as a gift for his royal master. It was at one time in the Arundel Collection, and while there was engraved by Hollar. In the inventory of that collection it is entered as “Regina de Saba in miniatura chiaroscuro.” There is a picture in the Dresden Gallery representing the “Death of Virginia,” which appears to be an early copy of another of Holbein’s lost frescoes in grisaille, which has many 264points in common with the “Queen of Sheba” miniature painting, and is carried out in a similar scheme of colouring. Both were, no doubt, the work of his second English residence.[609]

Another important drawing, of an earlier date, in the Städel Institut at Frankfurt, represents a transport ship about to put out to sea.[610] It is a three-masted vessel, with high poop, crowded with small figures, among them a troop of landsknechte, one of whom stands in the stern, a fine figure, holding aloft a banner which flaps in the wind. Others play drum and trumpets, some hold pikes, and one of them embraces a girl. The anchor has been hauled up, and most of the sailors are at work in the rigging unfurling the sails; but several of them are taking parting drinks from large jars, even at the masthead, and one of the number is already overcome with sea-sickness. Below, on the left, a boat with two rowers is pulling vigorously towards the ship, either to put on board a late comer or to fetch off those for the shore. The exact date of this drawing is uncertain. It is possible that Holbein saw some such vessel during his visit to Amerbach in the south of France, or that he made it a year or two later at Antwerp on his way to England for the first time.

His skill in the representation of animals is shown in a number of drawings. There are some fine horses in the “Triumph of Riches” study, and also in the “Samuel and Saul” and the “Sapor and Valerian” drawings for the Basel Town Hall paintings, as well as in the woodcut of “The Ploughman” in the “Dance of Death” series and in others of his woodcut illustrations; the latter also showing good studies of sheep, dogs, and other animals. The early drawings of a lamb and a bat have been described on a previous page.[611]

Holbein as a practical designer for craftsmen in the different branches of art workmanship—Architectural designs—The “Holbein Gate” at Whitehall—The Porch at Wilton—Drawing of a royal chimney-piece in the British Museum—Ceilings in St. James’s Palace and the Matted Gallery, Whitehall—Sculptured capitals in the More Chapel, Chelsea Church—Glass window in Shelton Church, Norfolk—Number of his designs for jewellers, goldsmiths, and armourers—The Jane Seymour Cup—Other designs for cups in the Basel Museum—Sir Anthony Denny’s clock—Sword and dagger hilts and sheaths—Henry VIII’s love of jewellery—Pendants—Book covers—Monograms—Panels of ornament—Designs for circular medallions or enseignes in the British Museum and at Chatsworth and Basel—The leading English and foreign jewellers in London—Holbein’s probable connection with some of them.

Holbein was a master in all crafts, and Erasmus’ description of him in his letter to Peter Ægidius,[612] not as painter, or sculptor, but simply as a fine workman (insignis artifex), was a true one. His great technical powers in every department of decorative design, his practical knowledge of the various processes employed in the different branches of art workmanship for which he supplied the craftsmen with patterns and working drawings, show him to have been a real master of arts in every sense of the word.

“The artistic quality he possessed in the highest degree,” says Mr. M. Digby Wyatt, “was, I consider, the intensity with which he realised ‘form.’ Able master as he was of delineation, what gives the stamp of enduring truth to his work is the feeling of assurance his delineation conveys to the mind of the spectator, that what he has drawn from life was the vera effigies of what he saw—that what he designed could never be executed with equal propriety in any other way than as his drawing defined it. There is never any uncertainty as to his intention or meaning—what he says was, was—what he says should be, should be. In this precise conception of pure form and power of conveying his own sense of it to others, he stood upon the same platform as the great men to whose universal genius I have already alluded—Albert 266Dürer and Leonardo da Vinci. The artist who possesses in a high degree any such power as that I have attempted to define, must of necessity have the requisite aptitude for success in either painting, architecture, or sculpture, or all three; since the power in question lies at the root of and is indispensable to the satisfactory practice of either or all. Architects will do well to look earnestly at such reliques as time has spared of the genius of Dürer, Da Vinci, and especially of Hans Holbein, since, so far as I know, they were the best makers of working drawings who ever lived. Of whatever they drew they gave every characteristic, and their slightest sketches never fail to mark essentials and to omit secondaries of form and expression.”[613]

Horace Walpole, speaking of the rise of Renaissance architecture in England—“Grecian art plaistered on Gothic,” he calls it—says that “the beginning of reformation in building seems owing to Holbein. His porch at Wilton, though purer than the works of his successors, is of this bastard sort; but the ornaments and proportions are graceful and well chosen. I have seen drawings of his, too, in the same kind. Where he acquired this taste is difficult to say; probably it was adopted from his acquaintance with his fellow-labourers at court.”[614] Though there is no doubt that Holbein would have been a fine architect had his inclination led him to practise that branch of art—the backgrounds of his designs for painted glass afford ample proof of his aptitude for design in the new architectural manner of the Italian Renaissance—Walpole’s assertion cannot be accepted as the truth. Henry VIII had at least two good Italian architects in his employment—first, Girolamo da Treviso, and afterwards John of Padua, as well as sculptors and modellers of architectural detail such as Benedetto da Rovezzano and Giovanni da Maiano, and it is the influence of such Italians as these that is to be most clearly discerned in the buildings which were erected in England at this period. Holbein produced a few designs of an architectural nature, but no building exists of which it can be said that he was the architect.

The gateway which, according to tradition, he designed, and hence known as “Holbein’s Gate,” was one of Henry VIII’s additions to Whitehall, and connected the tennis court, the cock-pit, and the 267bowling-green with the palace, besides providing the King with a gallery into the park, from which he could witness the sports which took place there on special occasions. It was built, according to Walcott, of stone mixed with small squares of flint, and tesselated, and was “very neatly set.” J. T. Smith, in his Antiquities of Westminster, describes it as being in the Tudor style of architecture, with battlements and four lofty towers, the whole enriched with bustos on the north and south sides. Pennant, who had himself seen the gate, says: “To Holbein was owing the most beautiful gate at Whitehall, built with bricks of two colours, glazed and disposed in a tesselated fashion. The top, as well as an elegant tower on each side, were embattled. On each front were four busts, in baked clay, which resisted to the last every attack of the weather.” An excellent idea of its appearance is to be obtained from the engraving by G. Vertue (1725) in the “Vetusta Monumenta.”

The gateway was pulled down in 1759 in order to widen Parliament Street. The materials were obtained by the Duke of Cumberland, Ranger of Windsor Park, with the intention of re-erecting the gate at the end of the Long Walk. In the end, however, they were worked up in several buildings the Duke built in the park. Two of the medallions were put in front of the park lodges, but most of them appear to have been stolen when the gateway was pulled down. Three of them eventually came into the possession of a coachbuilder named Wright, who, in 1769, employed John Flaxman, the sculptor, then a boy, to repair them. They were in terra-cotta, coloured and gilt, and the ornaments included the rose and crown and the King’s initials. Wright had them removed to Hatfield Priory, Essex, where they were still to be seen in 1803, in which year J. T. Smith went down there to copy them. They were larger than life, and were said to be representations of Henry VII, Henry VIII when sixteen, and Bishop Fisher. The two which decorated the front of the park lodges were afterwards removed to Hampton Court, where, says Allan Cunningham, “they are made to do duty as two of the Roman emperors described by Hentzner in his Travels.” It seems probable that they were the work of Giovanni da Maiano. In its design there is nothing to suggest that Holbein was the architect of this famous gateway, and it is much more probable that one of the Italians employed by the King was responsible for it; and the legend which connects Holbein with it may have 268arisen from the fact that he had rooms in Whitehall, possibly in the very gateway to which his name has been so long attached. It contained, says Dallaway, “several apartments, but the most remarkable was the ‘little study, called the New Library,’ in which Holbein was accustomed to employ himself in his art, and the courtiers to sit for their portraits.”[615]

Tradition has also long associated the name of Holbein with the Porch at Wilton, the seat of the Earl of Pembroke. This porch or loggia is of no great beauty, but it is free from any admixture of Gothic detail, and is a good example of the early adaptation in England of Renaissance architecture and ornamentation. It originally formed part of the house, but in the nineteenth century, when some alterations to the buildings were made, it was removed to the end of a walk in the gardens. The dissolution of the monastery of St. Edith, on the site of which the house stands, took place in 1539, and the abbey and its rich possessions were granted by the King to Sir William Herbert shortly afterwards. In the erection of his mansion the first Earl no doubt employed one of the architects then attached to Henry’s court, for there is little in the design of this small porch to support the tradition that the man he selected was Holbein, rather than one of the Italians whose business it was to invent and embellish such buildings. It is, indeed, simpler in design and less lavish in ornamental detail than those architectural backgrounds to his windows which Holbein produced when in Basel, based upon recollections of his visit to Italy. The size of the porch may be gauged by the entrance-way, which measures 8 feet in height. Round the three outer doorways runs an interlaced design cut in low relief, which still retains much of its original colour, the ground a rich red and the ornament yellow, from which the original gilding has worn away. In the corners a wreath of fruit and flowers encircles a small wyvern on a blue background. Above the capitals of the fluted pillars, and just below the projecting mouldings that divide the upper and lower portions of the porch, is a broad band filled with a pattern of intersecting circles, painted on a flat surface in light blue and yellow, lined and touched with darker blue and red. Probably the whole surface was originally painted and gilded. In the upper part the double pillars are repeated, but with rich acanthus capitals. On the three faces over the openings are panels with the Pembroke coat of arms, 269with a circular medallion on each side, containing heads of men and women in relief, those on the front being apparently busts of the Earl and his wife. The vigorous heraldic design supported by the Talbot dogs and wyverns forms a novel finish to the crown. The interior has a ribbed and vaulted ceiling, and brackets and other details in bold relief, including a number of figures on pedestals. It is, of course, possible that Holbein provided drawings for the building of this porch, but there is no real evidence of this, and the style of the design does not suggest his invention. It is much more likely to have been due to one of Henry’s Italians, such as Antonio Toto. “The character of the whole,” says Woltmann, “as is shown especially in the crowning, is far too feeble for us to think of Holbein as its architect; and, besides this, the costume of the half-length figures, introduced in several of the medallions, shows that the work was executed near the close of the sixteenth century.”[616] Wornum also calls attention to the lateness of the costumes, and says of the porch itself that it displays “neither taste nor knowledge of the style.” He adds: “As for the Whitehall Gate, it was a mongrel of Gothic and Renaissance quite unworthy of Holbein, and, I should imagine, an impossible design for him; it was similar in general character to the gate of St. James’s Palace, at the bottom of St. James’s Street.”[617] Waagen says that the medallions contain busts of Edward VI and the Pembroke family.[618]