“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. Soo 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 reported 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]

This 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 mentioned 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.

For 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 then 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 Henry 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.