A Popular Handbook to the National Gallery, Volume I, Foreign Schools

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";244 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 awryDistinguish 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.245

1315. THE ADMIRAL PULIDO PAREJA

Velazquez (Spanish: 1599-1660). See 197.

One of the master's most famous works. "In the year 1639," says Palomino, "he made the picture of Don Adrian Pulido Pareja, a native of Madrid, Knight of the Order of Santiago, Admiral of the Fleet of New Spain, who about that time was here transacting various official matters with His Majesty. This portrait is life size, and is among the most famous painted by Velazquez, on which account he put his name to it, which he otherwise seldom did: Didacus Velazquez fecit; Philip IV. à cubiculo eiusque Pictor, anno 1639." The painter's signature was not the only thing which served at the time to stamp the picture as one of special excellence. The King one day was paying his customary visit to the painter; Philip mistook the picture for the admiral himself, and rebuked him for tarrying in Madrid when he had been ordered away. Perceiving his mistake, he addressed Velazquez with the words: 'I assure you I was deceived.' "This, of course," says Mr. Colvin, "is one of the common legends which abound in the art history of all countries, from Greece to Japan; but it is almost possible to believe the tale when we look at the picture. Something of the rugged flashing power and fierce eagerness of the sitter seems to have passed into the painter's hand, and the method of execution he has chosen emphasises and harmonises with the character of the subject. The rude soldier-sailor in his handsome suit stands in bodily and spiritual presence before us, and seems snorting with impatience to be off to the fight once more."

Pulido, the subject of the picture, was a captain who distinguished himself greatly during the siege of Fontarabia, in the war with France. "The browned face with gleams of white light belongs," says Professor Justi, in describing the picture, "to a not uncommon Castilian type, of which this is an exceptionally stout, sturdy, grim specimen. The thick black shady eyebrows, very bushy and nearly meeting above the nose, the perpendicular wrinkle right in the middle of the forehead, the up-twirled mustachio, – the whole enframed in an abundant mass of black hair parted on one side and profusely crowning the defiant head, – bespeak the dauntless soldier as he stood on the ramparts of Fontarabia, as he will yet stand on the quarter-deck of the Admiral's ship in the hottest of the fight. There is nothing of the courtier in the attitude, for he stands bolt upright, like a soldier before his commanding officer. We see at once that he is not the man to hesitate about risking his own life or that of others in the deadly jaws of a breach. Both hands wear the yellow leather gloves, the right holding the Admiral's staff, the left a very broad-brimmed felt hat. On his breast is the red, gold-hemmed scarf and the red enamelled decoration of the Order of Santiago" – which the King had bestowed upon him for his gallantry in the siege.

With regard to the technique of the picture, Palomino tells us that Velazquez painted it with brushes of unusual length, in order to work with greater force and effect standing at a distance. "It appears in fact (says Professor Justi) to have been very broadly treated, with more fiery vigour than delicacy. The light yellow-gray ground – dark above, and without any relation to the limits of wall and floor – has been specially prepared with reference to the black velvet costume. Don Adrian stands a little to the left, his glance directed towards the observer, legs246 brought close together, feet almost at a right angle. The colour is applied more freely than usual, the otherwise rarely employed dazzling white patches on the deep lace collar, flowered satin sleeves, plumes, bows on the knees, and accoutrements, helping the illusion."

1316. AN ITALIAN NOBLEMAN

Moroni (Bergamese: 1525-1578). See 697.

Inferior in charm and interest to some of the other Moronis previously in the National Gallery, and to many of the master's marvellous pictures in the Carrara Collection at Bergamo. "Only," says a recent critic, "in the expressive look in the dreamy eyes, and in the drawing and painting of the left arm, clothed in chain-armour, do we find interest." Another, and more favourable, critic (Mr. Sidney Colvin) says: "Dignity and directness of presentment, richness of quality and mellowness of tone, with a colour-sense never more powerfully shown than when the scheme is one of flesh-colour with simple black and white on gray – these are the universal qualities of Venetian portrait-painting… This is a thoroughly characteristic example in an excellent state. We already possess a portrait by the same hand, composed of much the same elements (1022): a man in a close-fitting black suit, showing chain-armour on the sleeves, a broken column, a wall, and a glimpse of sky. The two will make admirable pendants."

1317. THE MARRIAGE OF THE VIRGIN

Unknown (Sienese School: 14th or early 15th Century).

This is one of the stock subjects in which the evolution of Italian art may be most clearly traced. Everybody knows the beautiful and celebrated "Sposalizio" of Raphael at Milan, which in its turn was copied, with some characteristic modifications, from Perugino's picture, now at Caen. Comparing those versions of the subject with an early one such as this, every one will be struck by the difference in general effect, but not less remarkable are the resemblances. The type, so far as the component parts are concerned, remains constant. The basis of the tale which Italian painters told for century after century is found in two of the apocryphal gospels. In them we read how the "Virgin of the Lord" was brought up, like Samuel, within the precincts of the temple, and how the High Priest summoned the suitors to an ordeal. Every man of them was to take a rod, and he whose rod should miraculously put forth leaves and blossom was to be chosen as husband. The common features of all "Sposalizio" pictures adhere closely to this legend. Thus the action always takes place within or just outside the temple. In the centre stands the High Priest with a long gray beard and (almost always) a high-peaked mitre, the Italian painters' idea of a Jewish ephod. He joins the hands of the pair in betrothal. The rod of Joseph blossoms, and above its foliage hovers the Holy Spirit in the form of a dove. One of the suitors is about to strike Joseph in his passion; another is engaged in breaking his rod in vexation. Raphael makes the mien of the suitors much more gentle. He leaves out "the passionate suitor" altogether, but gives to the "disappointed suitor" a prominent place as an opportunity for a graceful attitude. In this picture he is very much in the background (in the extreme left-hand corner).

1318. "UNFAITHFULNESS."

Paolo Veronese (Veronese: 1528-1588). See 26.

One of a series: see under 1324-26.

1319. VIEW IN ROME

Claude (French: 1600-1682). See 2.

On the right of the composition are an ancient Ionic portico (seen from the side) and a statue of Apollo, surrounded by trees. On the left is a wooded slope, beyond which, in the middle distance, is seen the church of Sta. Trinita de' Monti with other buildings.

1320, 1321. A MAN AND HIS WIFE

Cornelis Janssens (Dutch: 1594-1664).

This painter – Cornelis Janssens van Ceulen – is believed to have been born in London. He was taken into the service of James I., whose portrait he painted several times. In the National Portrait Gallery are portraits by him of Sir Edward Coke and Lord Coventry. His reputation waned somewhat after the arrival of Van Dyck, whose portrait he painted and whose influence may be noticed in the pictures now before us. In the Dulwich Gallery are two pictures formerly ascribed to Van Dyck, but now to Janssens. In 1648 "Cornelius Johnson, picture-drawer" was permitted by the Speaker's warrant to pass beyond seas with such goods and chattels as belonged to himself. On his return to Holland, he seems to have worked at Middelburg, at the Hague, and at Amsterdam. Pictures by him may be seen in all those places. His portraits are sometimes stiff in conception, but are remarkable for the "lively tranquillity of the countenances." None of the artists excelled him in painting the lace collars and cuffs which were the reigning fashion of the time.

The man is Aglonius Voon; the woman (presumably his wife), Cornelia Remoens: the names are inscribed above their heads.

1323. PIERO DI MEDICI

Angelo Bronzino (Florentine: 1502-1572). See 649.

A portrait of Piero, son of Cosimo the elder – surnamed "Il Gottoso," The Gouty – who died in 1469. Bronzino was employed to paint the portraits of many members of the Medici family. No. 704 is a contemporary portrait of one of the later Dukes.

1324. "SCORN."

1325. "RESPECT."

1326. "HAPPY UNION."

Paolo Veronese (Veronese: 1528-1588). See 26.

The four Veroneses (1325, 1324, 1318, and 1326), acquired from Cobham Hall, "obviously formed a series, or portions of a series, of enrichments for a ceiling, and must be looked at accordingly. They exhibit the decorative power of Veronese at a very high pitch in respect to colour, composition, and action, while his characteristically large and bold style of design and draughtsmanship are most fortunately employed upon them. One may readily conceive the magnificence of the saloon for which they were executed, and of which they must have been the chief ornaments. Sumptuous as they are now, their superb qualities would be enhanced if they could be seen with all their original accompaniments of gilding, carved frames, and magnificent furniture" (Athenæum, August 16, 1890).

The subjects of the pictures are moral allegories, and they go in pairs. Thus we have first "Respect" (1325) and "Scorn" (1324). In the former picture, a nude female figure – whose beautiful face recalls that of the "St. Helena" (see No. 1041) – is seen recumbent on a couch, asleep or lost in dreams. Cupid is leading a warrior, clad in sumptuous costume, but he turns aside, held back by an older man, in chivalrous respect. He is contrasted in the companion picture with another male figure, who lies prostrate while a Cupid tramples in scorn upon him. On the left two females (contrasting with the two men in the former pictures) are hurrying away. The elder carries an ermine, the emblem of purity, and guides the younger and more beautiful woman whom she has rescued from peril.