_Hans Holbein, the Younger_ (German: 1497-1543).
Hans Holbein--"the greatest master," says Ruskin, "of the
German, or any northern school"--is closely identified with
England, and at least seventy important works by him are, it
is calculated, in this country. He is called "the younger," to
distinguish him from his father of the same name, who was also
a celebrated painter.[238] The son was born at Augsburg, but
migrated early in life to Basle--then a centre of literary and
artistic activity. There he formed a friendship with Erasmus,
a portrait of whom from his hand is now one of the treasures
of the Basle Museum. Both at Basle and at Lucerne Holbein was
engaged in portraiture, house-decorating, and designs for
goldsmiths' work. Ruskin traces to Holbein's surroundings at
Basle the serious temper which characterises much of his art.
"A grave man, knowing what steps of men keep truest time to the
chanting of Death. Having grave friends also;--the same singing
heard far off, it seems to me, or, perhaps even low in the
room, by that family of Sir Thomas More; or mingling with the
hum of bees in the meadows outside the towered wall of Basle;
or making the words of the book more tuneable, which meditative
Erasmus looks upon. Nay, that same soft death-music is on the
lips even of Holbein's Madonna." The reference here is to the
famous "Darmstadt Madonna," which was painted about 1526. In
that year, leaving his wife and child behind him, Holbein set
out for England, with letters from Erasmus to Sir Thomas More,
who received him with honour. From 1528 to 1532 he was again
in Basle. In the latter year he returned to England to find
More in disgrace, and no longer able to assist him. Holbein,
however, met with a warm reception from the German merchants
of the Steelyard, and painted portraits of many of them. To
this same period also the present picture belongs. Gradually
he became known at court, and from 1536 onwards he was in
the service of Henry VIII., whose high opinion of Holbein is
recorded in the King's rebuke to one of his courtiers for
insulting the painter: "You have not to do with Holbein, but
with me; and I tell you that of seven peasants I can make seven
lords, but not one Holbein." The portrait of Christina of
Denmark, lent by the Duke of Norfolk, was one of those painted
for the King. He paid during these years several visits to the
Continent, but died in this country--being carried off by the
plague--in 1543.
It is as a portrait-painter that Holbein is best known.
His work in this kind is, says Ruskin, "true and thorough;
accomplished in the highest as the most literary sense, with
a calm entireness of unaffected resolution, which sacrifices
nothing, forgets nothing, and fears nothing." Of his fidelity
in portraiture and his fine perfection in accessories, we
have a magnificent example in the picture before us, to which
what Ruskin says of Holbein's "George Gyzen" (at Berlin)
equally applies. "In some qualities of force and grace it is
inferior. But it is inexhaustible. Every detail of it wins,
retains, rewards the attention with a continually increasing
sense of wonderfulness. So far as it reaches, it contains the
absolute facts of colour, form, and character rendered with
an inaccessible faithfulness. There is no question respecting
things which it is best worth while to know, or things which
it is unnecessary to state, or which might be overlooked with
advantage. What were visible to Holbein, are visible to us;
we may despise if we will; deny or doubt, we shall not; if we
care to know anything concerning them, great or small, so much
as may by the eye be known is for ever knowable, reliable, and
indisputable." But Holbein, as we have seen, was much more than
a portrait-painter. Few artists, indeed, have excelled him
in "majestic range of capacity." His "Madonna" at Darmstadt,
referred to above (the better known copy of which is at
Dresden), is one of the great religious pictures of the world.
(A copy of it is in the Arundel Society's Collection.) He was
also a fresco-painter, a designer for glass painting, and a
draughtsman for woodcuts; his designs for the "Dance of Death"
being the typical expression in Northern art of the spirit of
the Reformation. (For Ruskin's estimate of Holbein, see further
_Sir Joshua & Holbein_, reprinted in _On the Old Road_, vol.
i., and _Ariadne Florentina_, _passim_.)
This celebrated picture is, says Mr. Sidney Colvin, the most important
among Holbein's works--after the Darmstadt Madonna--that are extant in
good preservation, important alike as to scale, and as to richness
and multiplicity of accessories and costumes. It is also one of those
most characteristic of the master, both in his excellences and in
his faults. "There are more completely satisfying works among his
single-figure portraits, in some of which we find a greater artistic
unity--as, for instance, in the portrait of 'Christina, Duchess of
Milan.' Among the faults in the present work may be noticed the
short proportions of the figures in relation to the heads--an effect
exaggerated in the case of the personage on our left by the fashion
of the broad surcoat with its great puffed sleeves. It must further
be admitted that Holbein, who in decorative and ornamental design was
one of the most inventive, adroit, and powerful composers that ever
lived, has in this instance seemed to let his composition take care of
itself.[239] The figures are placed at either end of the desk, with a
certain _naïf_ stiffness almost recalling the pose of a photographic
group. Moreover, masterly and energetic as are the heads in modelling,
in expression they are somewhat rigid, harsh, and staring. Yet, all
deductions made, with what an effective and potent grasp does the
picture hold us! The colouring is richer and more varied than in
any other painting of the master." The accessories are painted with
"such strong minuteness of reality and diligent, though never paltry,
emphasis of detail, that their due subordination to the whole and to
the personages would seem impossible. But the subordination is there
all the same, and how it comes is Holbein's secret. The total effect is
one of singularly rich, if somewhat rigid grandeur;[240] the persons
dominating as they should; the faces and hands remaining the master
features of the picture. The heads, with their hard gaze, lay hold
on the spectator masterfully, so that he cannot forget them after he
has passed away" (_Art Journal_, January 1890). The brilliance of the
picture, now that the discoloured varnish which formerly concealed many
of its beauties has been removed, is very remarkable.[241] Every colour
appears to have stood; and after 370 years the picture remains in its
pristine freshness.
The identity of the personages portrayed in the picture had long
been a subject for critical conjecture among the ingenious. The
picture was traditionally known as "The Ambassadors," and the name
of almost every ambassador of the period had at one time or another
been suggested; while other critics, maintaining that the traditional
title rested on no good authority, went further afield and sought
to identify the personages with various poets and men of letters,
to whom the accessories in the picture seemed appropriate.[242] The
matter has now, however, been finally set at rest by the discovery
of a seventeenth-century manuscript, which gives a description of
the picture and records its history during the first 120 years of
its existence.[243] This manuscript, presented by Miss Mary Hervey
(who discovered it), is now hung in another part of the Gallery (in
the small room marked A on our plan). The traditional title of the
picture is confirmed, for the portraits are of Jean de Dinteville (on
the left), French Ambassador in England, and George de Selve (on the
right), Bishop of Lavaur, and subsequently Ambassador at Venice. The
two men, we learn from the MS., were friends; and in 1533, the year
in which the picture was painted, George de Selve came to England,
by permission of the French king, on a visit to Jean de Dinteville:
"and the two, having there met with an excellent painter of Holland,
employed him to make this picture, which has been carefully preserved
in the same place at Polizy up to the year 1653."
The document itself is convincing, and its identification of the
personages agrees with what may be learnt from an examination of the
picture. There are three inscriptions on it. One is on the sheath
of the dagger which hangs from the girdle of the personage on the
spectator's left. This inscription is: "ÆT. SVÆ 29." On the edges of
a clasped book, upon which the second personage leans, is another
inscription: "ÆTATIS SVÆ 25." Thirdly, in the shadow cast on the floor
by the chief personage is the inscription: "IOHANNES HOLBEIN PINGEBAT,
1533." Jean de Dinteville, Seigneur of Polizy, Bailly of Troyes,
Chevalier de l'Ordre du Roi,--the order of St. Michael, which he wears
in the picture,--was born September 21, 1504, and was, therefore, in
his 29th year, or just the age required by the picture, at the time
of his first Embassy to England in 1533. He remained in this country
from February to November of that year, returning again as Ambassador
in 1536. At a later period of his life he became paralysed and retired
to his estate at Polizy, where he occupied the enforced leisure of his
ill-health in building and embellishing the château, of which a vaulted
undercroft and a few other striking fragments, including an inscription
and some dates, yet remain as a monument to his tastes. He died in
1555. On the globe, which stands on the lower shelf of the what-not,
the names are all of continents, countries, or great cities,--Paris,
Lyons, Bayonne, Genoa, Rome, Nuremberg,--with the single exception
that, in the east of France, we find the name of what is little more
than a village. This name is Polizy.
George de Selve, Bishop of Lavaur, was one of six brothers, nearly all
of whom attained distinction as Ambassadors. In 1526, at the early
age of 18, he was appointed to the See of Lavaur, but he was not
consecrated until 1534, when he was 26. It follows from these dates
that in 1533, the year in which he sat to Holbein, he was 25 years old,
or precisely of the age recorded in the picture. His non-episcopal
dress is explained by the fact that he was only consecrated in the
following year, the same in which he was appointed Ambassador at
Venice. In 1536 he was transferred to Rome, where he remained two
years, and in 1540 we find him intrusted with an important mission
to Charles V. Having voluntarily returned to his diocese when at the
zenith of his career, in order to devote himself completely to his
episcopal duties, he died in 1542 (N.S.) at the early age of 34. His
profound learning, his piety, his keen interest in all intellectual
pursuits, make him one of the remarkable figures of his day.
Some further description of the details may assist the spectator in his
examination of the picture. The background is hung with green damask,
which in the upper left-hand corner reveals a silver crucifix. Jean de
Dinteville, the figure on the left, habited in the rich costume of the
period of Henry VIII. and Francis I., wears a heavy gold chain with the
badge (as already explained) of the French Order of St. Michael. In his
right hand he holds a richly-chased gold dagger, "the design of which
is manifestly Holbein's own; and beside it hangs a large green and gold
silk tassel, in itself a miracle of painting." In his black bonnet is
a jewel formed of a silver skull set in gold. The other personage is
more soberly attired. He wears a loose, long-sleeved gown of mulberry
and black brocade, lined with sable, and the four-cornered black cap,
"which was in that age the common headgear of scholars, university
doctors, and ecclesiastics in undress." "The contrast between the
swordsman on one side and the gownsman on the other is characteristic
of the era and profession of the two ambassadors." The upper shelf
of the stand, or what-not, between the two figures is covered with
a Turkish rug, very beautifully painted, and on this are several
mathematical and astronomical instruments, and, close to the principal
personage, a celestial globe. Conspicuous on the lower shelf is a lute,
of which one of the strings was broken and curled up over the unbroken
one. On the lower shelf also are a case of flutes; an open music-book,
containing part of the score and words of the Lutheran hymn, "Komm,
heiliger Geist";[245] a smaller book on arithmetic, kept partly open by
a small square, a pair of compasses, and a terrestrial hand-globe (in
direct line below the other globe). On this globe the famous line drawn
by Pope Alexander VI. in 1493 between the spheres of influence of Spain
and Portugal is marked. Underneath the what-not is the lute-case; and
a fine mosaic adorns the floor. The design of this is (as Miss Hervey
points out) an accurate copy of the well-known mosaic pavement in the
Sanctuary of Westminster Abbey, for the construction of which marbles
and workmen were brought from Italy by Abbot Richard Ware in the reign
of Henry III. "Nothing brings the English sojourn of the great painter
more closely home to us than to fancy him wandering through the aisles
of the venerable Abbey--venerable even then--to sketch the outlines of
the historic pavement trodden by so many generations before and since
that time."
On the floor is a mysterious-looking object, which puzzled the
connoisseurs for centuries. Even the late Mr. Wornum could make
nothing of it; and in his book on Holbein (1867) dismissed it as "a
singular object which looks like the bones of some fish." The puzzle
was first solved by Dr. Woodward in 1873, when the picture was hung in
the "Old Masters" Exhibition. The curious fish-like object is simply
the anamorphosis--the distorted projection--of a human skull. It was
probably drawn from the reflection in a cylindrical mirror; and it
is seen to be an accurate representation when viewed from the proper
point. If the spectator cannot discover this for himself, the attendant
will readily assist him. One must stand at a little distance off and
look in the direction of the length of the object from the right hand
in order to "find the skull." Pictorial puzzles such as the skull were
at the time not uncommon. Allusions to such things are to be found in
old inventories of pictures; and Shakespeare in _Richard II._ says:
Like pérspectives, which, _rightly_ gazed upon,
Show nothing but confusion: eyed _awry_
Distinguish form.--Act II. Sc. 2.
Similarly, Canon Ainger has pointed out that in _Twelfth Night_, when
the Duke first becomes aware that Viola and Sebastian, who had up to
that time from their exact likeness been thought the same person, are
really two, he cries out that here is a puzzle in nature corresponding
to those in art, where an object varies according to the point of view
from which it is regarded:
A natural perspective--that is and is not!
As to the interpretation and significance of the puzzle, authorities
differ. Some see in the skull only a punning signature of the painter's
name (_hohl bein_, hollow bone, holbein). Others discover in it a
recondite allusion to Cranmer (crâne-mère). Others again, when the
identity of the personages was still in dispute, sought to connect
the skull with the death of one or other of them; most ingenious and
far-fetched theories were elaborated by Sir F. Burton and others with
this object. Probably, however, the distorted skull is only a variant
on the _memento mori_, which occurs very frequently in portraits of the
time (see, for instance, No. 1036). It may be (as Miss Hervey suggests)
that Dinteville had adopted the death's-head as his personal badge or
_devise_. He suffered from ill-health, and in a letter to his brother
describes himself as "the most melancholy ambassador that ever was
seen."
There is still a field open to conjecture with regard to the elaborate
accessories described above. Mr. Sidney Colvin thinks, indeed, that
the globes, quadrant, music-book, etc., are probably simply introduced
by the painter to show his skill of hand for the satisfaction of his
patrons, the choice of objects having been made partly in compliment
to them as persons interested in music and the sciences, partly because
they were the properties readiest to hand in the society of such men
as Kratzer, the astronomer, and the German merchant goldsmiths of the
Steelyard, among whom Holbein lived (_Times_, Dec. 10, 1895). Miss
Hervey sees in the accessories "a record, probably unique in the domain
of art, of the thoughts and studies, the hopes and fears, which swayed
the country and generation of Jean de Dinteville. The objects selected
for illustration precisely represent the pursuits and occupations most
in vogue at the time in France. Geometry and Mechanics, the foundations
of the builder's art, just then attaining classical expression in the
lovely creations of the French Renaissance; Music, especially that of
the lute, which was so fashionable that every Frenchman of exalted
position carried a lutist in his train; the ingeniously contrived and
artistically rendered _devise_; these, as the literature of the period
abundantly testifies, were among the favourite studies and pastimes
of the Court of France." Dinteville "must have devoted many an hour
to thinking out with the painter the elaborate details." A different
contention has been argued with much ability by Mr. Alfred Marks:--
The scheme of the picture is very unusual. At either end of a
table of two stages stands a figure in a ceremonious attitude.
Between these figures, the two stages of the table, occupying
the middle and most prominent portion of the picture, are
loaded with numerous accessories. The method of their display
forbids us to suppose that, as suggested by Mr. Colvin,
they are here merely to show the painter's skill of hand.
Indeed, the whole scheme of the picture--pose of figures and
arrangement of accessories--tells of some occasion which the
picture is designed to commemorate, or, let us say, perhaps,
some occasion of which advantage has been taken to place the
personages in a situation of more than ordinary interest. What
this occasion was the picture, as we shall find, declares
with sufficient plainness. Holbein's symbolism was simple
and direct. Does he desire to convey that his sitter is a
merchant? The figure is represented as holding a bond; other
bonds lie on a table, together with a seal and a pen. Or, if he
is portraying an astronomer, he introduces a quadrant, dials,
compasses, and other instruments of the craft. In the "Two
Ambassadors" the symbolism is, from the nature of the case,
not personal to each of the two figures, but applicable to the
occasion. The lute, instrument of harmony, was already, as has
been shown by Mr. Dickes [see _Magazine of Art_, December 1891
and June 1892], the accepted symbol of a treaty; the suggestion
is strengthened by the introduction of a case of flutes. The
occasion commemorated is, therefore, a treaty. Nor are we left
in doubt as to the nature of this treaty; the globes celestial
and terrestrial, the compasses, dials, quadrants, merchants'
calculating book, clearly indicate that the treaty was one
relating to commerce or navigation.
Mr. Marks discovers in support of his theory that in 1533 (the date of
the picture) some agreement was arrived at between King Henry VIII.
and the French Ambassador with regard to certain grievances of French
merchants. George de Selve, as we have seen, came over to England with
the French King's permission and assisted Dinteville, it is suggested,
in the arrangement, the conclusion of which is celebrated by Holbein's
picture (_Times_, Dec. 7, 12, 23, 1895).
With regard to the _provenance_ of the picture, in the year 1653 it
was still, as we have seen, at the château of Polizy. The next known
notices of it occur in a Rouen catalogue of 1787, and in the _Galerie
des Peintres_ (1792) of J. R. P. Lebrun (husband of the artist
Vigée-Lebrun), who had the picture in his possession, and states that
he had sold it, and that it was then in England. It seems probable that
it came into the hands of the dealer Vandergutsch, and that from him it
was purchased by the second Earl of Radnor about 1808 or 1809, in whose
family it became an heirloom. In 1891 it was purchased from the present
earl for the nation.[246]