Friday, 28 October 2011

Two New Faces: the Hornebolte Portraits of Mary and Thomas Boleyn?

   A portrait miniature, attributed to the Flemish artist Lucas Hornebolte (circa 1490/5 - 1544), has been the subject of a guessing game since the 18th century. The picture of an English woman from the reign of Henry VIII was known as Katherine of Aragon when it was recorded in the collection of Horace Walpole in 1774, and was presumably called that by its previous owners going as far back as Charles II. After it was acquired by the Duke of Buccleuch in the next century, the identity of the sitter was changed to Jane Seymour. The Royal Ontario Museum, which obtained a duplicate of the miniature (Fig. 1) in 1978, also accepted her as Henry VIII’s third wife.[i]   
Fig. 1
Unknown Woman, attributed to Lucas Hornebolte. c. 1525.
Watercolour and bodycolour on vellum. 4 cm diameter.
(Royal Ontario Museum, Toronto)

    Both versions were subsequently renamed. The lady was clearly neither Katherine of Aragon nor Jane Seymour when compared to authentic portraits of them. As Hornebolte’s clientele seemed to be confined within the royal circle, and that the miniature was replicated, indicated a sitter of particular importance. The most plausible choice was the wife-in-between – Anne Boleyn.[ii] But again, the identification has been problematic. The likeness does not tally with reliable images of Henry VIII’s second Queen, and two other candidates have been suggested since.[iii] Another will be put forward here based on the age of the sitter, and the connection of her picture to another limning also attributed to Hornebolte.
   Of the two copies of the miniature, the Royal Ontario version is the finer, implying it was the original taken from life. The features of the sitter are livelier, and her jewelry more elaborate with the addition of a golden pendant set with pearls hanging from her necklace. As well, the artist had taken pains to include her age: AON XXV – that is ‘age 25’ or ‘in her 25th year’. The lack of any significant visual clues as to her identity places importance on the sitter’s given age. The question of course is when was she 25 (or 24)?
   Costume evidence places Hornebolte’s lady in the mid 1520’s, in correspondence to a panel of Mary Wotton, Lady Guildford by Hans Holbein, and to a portrait type of Katherine of Aragon executed at this time.[iv] All three women wear English style hoods with gabled frames extending down to the neck, and their bodices have the distinctive white bands at the shoulders fashionable at this period. Lady Guildford was painted in 1527, while the undated panels of Queen Katherine should not be later than the latter half of that same year when her royal title came under attack by Henry VIII’s efforts to divorce her that summer.
   Painted in the middle of the 1520’s on the basis of her attire, the suggestion made in 1994 that the unknown sitter was one of the King’s two nieces cannot be accepted.[v] Margaret Douglas (born in 1515) and Frances Brandon (born in 1517) would have been 25 in 1540 and 1542 respectively. By then, elongated gabled hoods would have been terribly out of style. The fashion of the early 1540’s dictated shortened frames aligned with the mouth, and even the adaptation of the more chic rounded French hood altogether. Even the austere order of the Grey Friars of London could not help but make note in their chronicle how beginning in 1540 ‘then began all the gentlewomen of England to wear French hoods with billiments of gold’.[vi] The popularity of French styles at Henry VIII’s court during this period was also observed by the ambassador Charles de Marillac who described Queen Katheryn Howard and her ladies as ‘vestue à la françoise’.[vii]  
   The dating of Hornebolte’s portrait to the first quarter of the 16th century implies that it was one of the earliest limnings made in England; the origins of which remain contentious. Much has been made of the French embassy of 1526. On or shortly before 2 December, the secretary of Margaret of Angoulême, the sister of the King of France, brought Henry VIII two unusual gifts.[viii] The first was a locket of 'delicately wrought gold' containing on one side a likeness of Francis I 'painted on paper to the very life', and on the other, an allegorical scene (probably of enameled gold) of 'two columns, based on dry land, and between them flows the sea’, surmounted by a verse of friendship in Latin. The other was another magnificent locket set with portraits of the King's two young sons - the Dauphin Francis and Henry Duke of Orleans. The presents were meant to inspire sympathy from the English. In February 1525, the French King was captured by the Emperor Charles V at the Battle of Pavia. As one of the conditions for his release and the preservation of his crown, Francis had to surrender his sons to the Imperialists.  When their portraits were sent out, the two boys were still hostages in Spain. 
   Gasparo Spinelli, a Venetian who attended the English court, was most impressed by the portrait lockets, as was their recipient. ‘It would be very difficult to express the delight which these gifts caused His Majesty,’ Spinelli wrote, ‘for the demonstration was extreme’. The great pleasure taken by both Spinelli and Henry VIII implied that nothing of the like had ever been seen before; at least not in Venice or in England. The King, it is then supposed, encouraged Lucas Hornebolte – already in his service – to work in this novel technique depicting himself and his family.[ix]
   But did the French gifts really initiate the newfangled concept of portraiture in little in England? The ages of Hornebolte’s clients suggest otherwise. While the birth date of his lady sitter is a mystery, Henry VIII’s is not. He was born on 28 June 1491, and his early miniatures, ascribed to Hornebolte as well, included his age: AON XXXV or AON ETATIS XXXV.[x] The King was 35 from between December 1526 (when limning was supposedly introduced to his court) and 27 June 1527. The other meaning of inscription, ‘in his thirty-fifth year’, would appear not applicable as it covers the period from 28 June 1525 to 27 June 1526 – that is before the arrival of the French embassy.
   However, there is evidence that Henry VIII might have indeed been painted earlier when he was 34 as demonstrated by a miniature of his daughter Princess Mary as a young girl (Fig. 2).

 Fig. 2
Mary I as Princess, attributed to Lucas Hornebolte. c. 1525.
Watercolour and bodycolour on vellum. 4 cm diameter.
(The National Portrait Gallery, London)

The portrait, again credited to Hornebolte, does not give her age, but it does show her with an important jewel.  Pinned to Mary’s breast is a brooch with the inscription The EmPour, that is The Emperor. The earliest reference to this jewel honouring her cousin Charles V was in March 1522. Mary had recently been betrothed to Charles, and his emissary described the infatuated 6-year-old as wearing ‘on her bosom a golden brooch ornamented with jewels forming Your Majesty's name, which name she had taken on Saint Valentine's Day for her valentine’.[xi]   
   It would be reasonable to assume Mary was painted that February or shortly afterwards by Hornebolte, but he only began to appear in the royal accounts three years afterwards, starting from September 1525.[xii] He therefore took Mary’s likeness after he was employed at court, but not too long afterwards going by the international situation. After the Imperial victory at Pavia, relations between Charles V and his ally Henry VIII grew increasingly cold. The Emperor even stopped writing to his beloved aunt, Mary’s mother Queen Katherine, causing her to complain how she ‘deserv[ed] not this treatment’, but a ‘better reward’ for the affection she always had for him.[xiii] Then in March 1526, Charles jilted her daughter altogether and married elsewhere.
   Consequently, the Princess would have had no reason to wear her brooch anymore. That said, her likeness was certainly made before the receiving of the French gifts nine months afterwards. So if they had nothing to do with the introduction of portrait miniatures to England, why were Spinelli and Henry VIII so taken by Margaret of Angoulême’s presents? Evidently, it was because of their elaborate presentations in the jeweled lockets, not the actual portraits within. It is probable that the limnings Henry already owned were encased in plain frames or in little boxes (perhaps of turned ivory);[xiv] nothing like the ornate settings used by the French. But when Henry sent out two miniatures to Francis I in June 1527 – one of himself, the other of his daughter Mary - he aimed to impress. The English made settings were richly crafted in imitation of the French lockets, and were decorated with intricate symbols, requiring Henry’s envoy to interpret ‘the devices of your Highness on both sides thereof’ to the French King.[xv] 
   As Mary, and perhaps her father, sat to Hornebolte during his initial months at court, the mysterious lady could have done likewise. Based on her identity as suggested here, she did just that in the summer of 1525. Who she was can be conjectured by linking her miniature to a portrait of an unknown gentleman (Fig. 3) ascribed to the same artist. It exists in two copies as well;

Fig. 3
Portrait miniature of a Gentleman, attributed to Lucas Hornebolte. c. 1525.
Watercolour and bodycolour on vellum. 4 cm diameter.
(The Victoria and Albert Museum, London)

one in the Victoria and Albert Museum, and the other owned by Major General F.E. Sotheby until it was sold.[xvi] The former, probably the original, gives the individual’s age (‘age 48’ or ‘in his 48th year’). Unfortunately, costume evidence is inconclusive as to when he might have been painted,[xvii] or like the lady, who he was exactly. Nonetheless, the sitter is generally called Charles Brandon, Duke of Suffolk.[xviii] But the 48-year-old gentleman cannot be Henry VIII’s brother-in-law. Brandon’s features, known through genuine portraits of him, are at odds with those of the person in the miniature.[xix] 
   The style of lettering appearing in both the Royal Ontario miniature and in the de Wet picture is significant. Discrepancies have been found amongst the various miniatures assigned to Hornebolte. The differences in calligraphy, not to mention the overall quality of the limnings, has led to speculation that not all the miniatures were done by Hornebolte himself, but by other members of his family who immigrated to England as artists also.[xx] However, with these two particular limnings, no inconsistencies are present. They were evidently by the same hand. The individual letters and numbers - the AON and the Roman numerals - were rendered exactly alike and laid out in precisely the same way, as were the asterisks appearing in both.[xxi]
   The identical lettering style and the facing together of the two sitters give the compelling case that the two miniatures were conceived together, or at least one following the other closely. Twin portraits of a married couple would be the most obvious assumption, but external evidence proposes a different family relationship altogether - that of a father and his daughter; one pair in particular who came into prominence at the court of Henry VIII, specifically in the year 1525.
    As the unknown gentleman is not Charles Brandon, it was someone else drawn from the upper ranks of the King’s court. The most feasible nobleman is Sir Thomas Boleyn, father of the future Queen Anne. Thomas Boleyn’s birth date can be construed by his testimony given during the 'Great Matter' of the King’s divorce.  Called as a witness, he gave his age as 52 on 15 July 1529.[xxii] If he was Hornebolte’s 47 or 48-year-old sitter, that would date the miniature to 1524 – 1525. For Thomas Boleyn, it was the latter year that was of especial significance to him. After years of loyal service to the crown - as a squire of the body, keeper of the Exchange, ambassador to the Netherlands and to France, controller of the household, and treasurer – the diligent Sir Thomas was finally elevated to the peerage as Viscount Rochford on 18 June 1525.
   Part of Rochford’s success could be attributed to his marrying well. Around 1499, he took Elizabeth Howard, the eldest daughter of the Earl of Surrey (later the second Duke of Norfolk) as his wife. The couple had ‘every year a child,’ beginning with their daughter Mary, putting her at age 25 in about 1525.[xxiii] That was of course the year of her father’s great triumph – and indeed of her own. When Sir Thomas won his hard earned title that summer, Mary was already mother to a recently born son. The question was by whom?  She had been married to William Carey since 1520, and had a daughter by him, but that did not prevent her from entering the royal bed. When her son Henry was born in March 1525, there were to be rumours that his father was not Sir William, but Henry VIII.[xxiv]   
   Henry Carey’s true paternity remains speculation, but his mother Mary Boleyn might well have believed (or positively knew) that the King had fathered the boy. If that were the case, along with Sir Thomas’ ennoblement that summer, the Boleyns had added another feather to their cap.  After sixteen years of marriage, the King still had no son and his only legal heir was the Princess Mary. Though she was groomed for the crown, the handicap of her sex drove her father to consider Henry Fitzroy (his illegitimate son by a previous mistress) as a possible alternative. On the same day that Thomas Boleyn was created viscount, the 6-year-old Fitzroy was made Earl of Nottingham, as well as Duke of Richmond and Somerset – ‘the highest grade in the kingdom,’ and ‘next in rank to His Majesty’.[xxv] Later, there would even be talk that the boy might be created King of Ireland, or even King of England as the husband of his half sister Mary. With Richmond - bastard though he was - marked for a glittering future, Rochford probably  envisioned great prospects for his own family should Henry VIII acknowledge his grandson, young Carey, as his own. Was it in anticipation of such a coup for the Boleyns that Mary – the other star of the family - was painted by Hornebolte, along with her father?
   Comparison with actual portraits of Mary and Thomas Boleyn would of course settle the question of whether they were indeed Hornebolte’s two unidentified clients, but unfortunately, there is paucity of comparable images. The portrait type at Hever Castle and at Warwick Castle called Mary Boleyn lacks sound evidence as actually being of her, and what appears to be an earlier version of it (Fig. 4), dated to the mid 17th century, is unlabelled. Also, her costume raises suspicion.

Fig. 4
Unknown Woman, by an Unknown Artist. c. 1630-1670.
Oil on panel. 39.4 cm x 31.2 cm.
(Royal Collection)

The shape of the sitter’s gabled hood is of the middle to late 1530’s. In 1534, Mary was in disgrace with her sister the Queen and the rest of her family for her second marriage made in secret. Until she died in 1543, Mary lived in quiet obscurity, and was unlikely to have had her portrait done.
   As for Thomas Boleyn, three known likenesses exist, but only one is helpful. Rochford appears in The Black Book of the Garter (Fig. 5) in the illustration of the knights processing into the chapel. He is the second figure entering at the far right,

Fig. 5
The Black Book of the Order of the Garter (detail),
attributed to Lucas Hornebolte and Assistants. c. 1534.
Manuscript on vellum
(Royal Collection)

and is identified by his arms on his surcoat. However, he is shown in profile, and though there was an attempt at an actual likeness, the drawing is too small to be useful. Boleyn also appears in the upper left hand panel in attendance upon the King, but he is not properly identified. The best depiction of Sir Thomas is in his memorial brass at Hever (Fig. 6). However, his features are somewhat generalized, and probably depict his appearance near the end of his life in 1539.

Fig. 6
Memorial to Sir Thomas Boleyn at Hever Church, Kent (drawing of).
(National Monuments Record)

   The set of four miniatures would presumably have been passed down by Mary Boleyn to her children. Going by the provenance of two of the limnings, her daughter Katherine Carey was the beneficiary. The Royal Ontario picture eventually ended up in the possession of Charles Seymour, the sixth Duke of Somerset (1662-1748), and subsequently, his descendents the Dukes of Buckingham at Stowe.[xxvi] The tradition that Seymour inherited the miniature from his ancestor Edward Seymour the Lord Protector, cannot be established, and was likely a conjecture based on the portrait being once called his sister Jane Seymour. Aside from Somerset's branch of the family, there is his wife's to consider. She was Elizabeth Percy, a direct descendent of Katherine Carey through the marriage of her granddaughter Dorothy Devereux to the ninth Earl of Northumberland in 1594. Undoubtedly, it was Elizabeth who brought the Royal Ontario miniature into Somerset’s collection; likewise the de Wet picture, which can also be traced back to Stowe.[xxvii] 
   Did Somerset own the Buccleuch and Sotheby limnings as well? That is less certain, but probable, given that he had the other two by way of marriage. While the history of the Sotheby picture appears to be undocumented, Hornebolte’s portrait of the lady - without her age inscribed - was known to have belonged to Charles II. It is not farfetched to think that it was given to him by Seymour. The Duke, ‘very much taken notice of at court,’ was close to the King, serving as a Gentleman of the Bedchamber, a privy councillor, and at his master's funeral, was appointed second mourner.[xxviii] During his lifetime, Charles II was anxious to restore the royal art collection, much of it lost under the Commonwealth, and it is possible that Somerset presented Charles - a connoisseur of limnings - with the Buccleuch miniature, and perhaps the Sotheby as well.[xxix] 
   If Thomas and Mary Boleyn indeed sat to Hornebolte as proposed here, their portraits could possibly have even been taken before his tenure at court, making them the earliest English miniatures. Rochford might have been the one responsible for introducing Lucas and his equally talented family - his father Gerard and his sister Susanna – to the King’s attention. From 1512 to 1513, Boleyn was envoy to the court of Margaret of Austria in the Low Countries, and he would have met Gerard Hornebolte, then court painter to the Archduchess. Thomas Boleyn was a man of culture. He spoke French and Latin with ease, was interested in religious reform, and he commissioned literary works from the famed Humanist Desiderius Erasmus. It would have been entirely appropriate if the sophisticated Boleyn extended his patronage to the Horneboltes as well, and was their first client upon their emigration to England. Besides the miniatures of himself and his daughter done by Lucas, he might also have engaged the artist’s father to paint the panel of his son-in-law William Carey in 1526, probably in honour of the young man being appointed Keeper of Greenwich Palace that year.[xxx] Unlike Lucas and his sister Susanna who seemed to have been engaged primarily as limners, Gerard Hornebolte, a renowned illuminator himself, also worked on larger sized pictures.[xxxi] Amongst his works was a panel portrait of Christian II of Denmark for Margaret of Austria.[xxxii] 
   The Boleyns’ early ties to Hornebolte are admittedly tenuous, but even if limning in England was exclusively a princely art at its inception, Mary and Thomas Boleyn were by no means outsiders from the King’s innermost circle. Mary was Henry VIII’s mistress since about 1520,[xxxiii] and her father was held in the highest esteem by his royal master. Sir Thomas was ‘most chiefest’ of the Privy Council, and in the King’s own words, ‘knew more of his secret intentions than any other man in the kingdom’. It was a high compliment indeed coming from the ever suspicious Henry VIII who once remarked, “If I thought that my cap knew my counsel, I would cast it into the fire and burn it”.[xxxiv]  Until their family fortunes rose to even greater heights with the marriage and coronation of Anne Boleyn eight years later, 1525 was a highpoint for Thomas and Mary. Certainly, no two courtiers were as eager to commission their portraits that year than father and daughter in celebration of their mutual annus mirabilis of triumph and hope.   



 NOTES



I am grateful to Dr. Martin Spies at Giessen University, Germany, for his research help and feedback.

[i] H. Walpole: Anecdotes of Painting in England (4th edition), London, 1786, I, p. 149. H.A. Kennedy: Early English Portrait Miniatures in the Collection of the Duke of Buccleuch, London, 1917, p. 4. H. Hickl-Szabo: Miniature Portraits in the Royal Ontario Museum, Toronto, 1981, pp. 3-4.

[ii] R. Strong: exh. cat. Artists of the Tudor Court – The Portrait Miniature Rediscovered 1520-1620, London (The Victoria and Albert Museum) 1983, p. 39, no. 14. The emblem on the sitter’s brooch said to be Anne Boleyn’s falcon badge (formerly Jane Seymour’s device of the phoenix) cannot be substantiated. It is too tiny to make out; much less a bird of any sort.

[iii] E. Ives: The Life and Death of Anne Boleyn, Oxford, 2004, pp. 41-44. E. Ives: ‘The Queen and the Painters: Anne Boleyn, Holbein and Tudor Royal Portraits’, Apollo 140 (1994), pp. 36-38.

[iv] Mary Wotton, Lady Guildford (St. Louis, City Art Museum, no. 1.1943); Katherine of Aragon (The National Portrait Gallery, London, no. 163, and The Boston Museum of Fine Arts, no. 48.1142).

[v]  Ives, 1994, op. cit. (note 3), p. 37-38.

[vi] J.G. Nichols (ed.): Chronicle of the Grey Friars of London, London, 1852, p. 43.

[vii] J. Kaulek (ed.): Correspondance Politique de M. De Castillon et de M. Marillac, Paris, 1885, p. 218. Before Katheryn Howard, French fashions were made popular at court by her cousin the Francophile Anne Boleyn. After her fall, her successor Jane Seymour, who favoured more sedate English attire, insisted that her ladies followed suit: M. S. Byrne (ed.): The Lisle Letters, Chicago, 1981, IV, no. 896.   

[viii] Calendar of State Papers, Venetian, R. Brown et al. (eds.), London, 1864-1947 (hereafter cited as CSP Ven.), 1520-1526, no. 1451.

[ix] Strong, op. cit. (note 2), p. 34. R. Strong: The English Renaissance Miniature (revised edition), London, 1984, pp. 27-29.

[x] Strong, op. cit. (note 2), p. 36, no. 5, and p. 37, no. 7. D. Starkey (ed.): exh. cat. Henry VIII: A European Court in England, Greenwich (The National Maritime Museum) 1991, p. 91, V. 45.

[xi] Calendar of State Papers, Spanish, G.A. Bergenroth et al. (eds.), London, 1862-1954 (hereafter cited as CSP Span.), Further Supplements to Volumes 1 and 2, p. 71.

[xii] British Library, MS Egerton 2604 f.lv. However, a letters patent of 1524 - the year before Hornebolte appeared in the royal accounts - contains a limning of Henry VIII of the same type as the detached ones attributed to Hornebolte (K. Coombs: The Portrait Miniature in England, London, 1998, p.19). Could it have been Hornebolte’s equally talented sister Susanna who was responsible for this, and of even some other miniatures commonly ascribed to her brother? Her ability as a painter was recognized by Albrecht Dürer, and Giorgio Vasari singled her out as the Hornebolte Henry VIII personally recruited into his service as an artist. See: A. Dürer: Schriftlicher Nachlass, H. Rupprich (ed.), Berlin, 1956, I, p. 172, and G. Vasari: The Lives of the Painters, Sculptors and Architects, A.B Hinds (trans.), London, 1983, p. 254. Given such an accolade by the King, Susanna’s employment at court may have preceded that of her brother Lucas, and almost certainly that of her father Gerard, who did not appear in the royal household until October 1528: Letters and Papers, Foreign and Domestic, Henry VIII, J.S. Brewer et al. (eds.), London, 1864-1932 (hereafter cited as L & P), V, p. 303.  Payments to Susanna from Henry VIII might have listed in the royal account books now missing: S.E. James and J.S. Franco, ‘Susanna Horenbout, Levina Teerlinc and the Mask of Royalty’, Jaarboek: Koninklijk Museum voor Schone Kunsten Antwerpen (2000), p. 95.

[xiii] CSP Span., op. cit, (note 11), 1525-1526, no. 621.

[xiv] Coombs, op. cit. (note 12), p. 19.

[xv] L & P, op. cit. (note 12), IV (ii), no. 3169.

[xvi] Strong, op. cit. (note 2), p. 38, no. 10; G. Reynolds: Connoisseur - Complete Period Guides, New York, n.d., I, p. 128 and plate 69 (c). The Sotheby version is now in South Africa: Strong, English Renaissance Miniature, op. cit. (note 9), p. 189, no. 12).

[xvii] However, the sitter’s hair - cropped straight across the forehead and hanging over the ears on the sides - is in line with the style of the 1520’s. See the miniature of Charles V attributed to Horenbout and painted about the same time: Strong, op. cit. (note 2), pp. 38-39, no. 11.

[xviii] Prior to its identification as Charles Brandon, the de Wet miniature was erroneously called Edward Duke of Buckingham; he was executed in 1521 at the age of 43. The Sotheby version was referred to as Thomas Earl of Essex (that is Thomas Cromwell), but the likeness is clearly not of him.

[xix] Pictures of Brandon include his wedding portrait (collection of the Earl of Yarborough and another owned by the Marquis of Tavistock), The Field of the Cloth of Gold (Royal Collection, RCIN 405794), The Black Book of the Garter (Royal Collection), and a panel of him in old age (The National Portrait Gallery, London, no. 516).

[xx] Coombs, op. cit. (note 14), pp. 24-26; James and Franco, op. cit, (note 12), p. 100.

[xxi] Interestingly enough, a miniature, probably of Katharine Parr (Sudeley Castle), and one of a young lady age eighteen (Yale Center for British Art), have the same particular calligraphic style and layout as the de Wet and Royal Ontario limnings. However, both are of a later date, and based on the draftsmanship, were probably the work of Lucas’ sister Susanna or the artist Levina Teerlinc: James and Franco, op. cit. (note 12), pp. 103-104, and p. 109. For the Yale portrait, see also: Strong, op. cit. (note 2), p. 52, no. 37, and B. Grosvenor (ed.): exh. cat. Lost Faces: Identity and Discovery in Tudor Royal Portraiture, London (Philip Mould Gallery) 2007, pp. 79-83.

[xxii] L & P, op. cit. (note 12), IV, no. 5774, item 14.

[xxiii] L & P, op. cit. (note 12), XI, no. 17. Ives, 2004, op. cit. (note 3), p. 17.

[xxiv] For Henry Carey’s birth occurring in March 1525, refer to Mary Boleyn’s post-mortem that on June 22, 1543, her son and heir was ‘17 years, 15 months, and 5 days’ old (J.G. Nichols : The Herald and Genealogist, IV, London, 1867, p. 130). Inscriptions on Carey’s portrait by Marcus Gheeraerts, and on his tomb, confirm 1525 as the year. William Carey’s post-mortem stating that his son was ‘2 years, 15 weeks, and 5 days’ old on June 22, 1528 - yielding a birth year of 1526 - was probably a clerical error where ’15 weeks’ was substituted for ‘15 months’ (Nichols, p. 129). Despite the lack of royal acknowledgment, tales about Henry Carey as the King’s offspring were accepted as fact by some: L & P, op. cit. (note 12), VIII, no. 567. See also: Hoskins, A, ‘Mary Boleyn's Carey Children — Offspring of King Henry VIII?’ Genealogists' Magazine 9, Vol. 25 (1997). 

[xxv] CSP Ven., op. cit. (note 8), no. 1053.

[xxvi] Hickl-Szabo, op. cit. (note 1), p. 4. 

[xxvii] Strong, op. cit. (note 2), p. 38, no. 10.

[xxviii] Memoirs of the Life, Family, and Character of Charles Seymour, Duke of Somerset, London: printed for H. Carpenter, circa 1749, p. 56; The Dictionary of National Biography, Oxford, 1942, XVII, p. 1236.

[xxix] Charles II was not averse to receiving miniatures from his courtiers: Strong, op. cit. (note 2), p. 40, no. 15.

[xxx] H. Paget, ‘Gerard and Lucas Hornebolt in England’, The Burlington Magazine 101 (1959), pp. 396-399. J. Fletcher, ‘A Portrait of William Carey and Lord Hunsdon’s Long Gallery’, The Burlington Magazine 123 (1981), pp.304-305. The version bearing the date 1526 was subsequently found to be an Elizabethan copy.  The original appears to be one from a private collection:  Starkey, op. cit. (note 10), p.57.

[xxxi] Both Lucas and Susanna Hornebolte were specifically described by Giorgio Vasari as ‘miniaturists’. See G. Vasari, Lives of the Most Eminent Painters, Sculptors, and Architects, J. Foster (trans.), London, 1864, V, pp. 462-463. Nonetheless, Lucas Hornebolte was also said to have worked on decorative projects for Henry VIII, and panel portraits by him were possible as well: Strong, op. cit. (note 9), pp. 32-33 and pp. 42-44.

[xxxii] L. Campbell and S. Foister, ‘Gerard, Lucas and Susanna Horenbout’, The Burlington Magazine 128, (1986), p. 720.

[xxxiii] Ives, 2004, op. cit. (note 3), p. 16.

[xxxiv] G. Cavendish: The Life of Cardinal Wolsey, S.W. Singer (ed.), London, 1827, p. 119 and p. 399. CSP Span., op. cit. (note 11), 1529-1530, pp. 421-422.


Copyright, by the author, March 2011

2 comments:

  1. Mr Hui,

    Thank you so much for your fascinating and very interesting article. I have to say that I agree with your proposal that the Hornebolte minature might in fact be Mary Boleyn - all the evidence you have put forward strongly supports this idea. I also really liked your thoughts that the minature of an unknown man might be Thomas Boleyn. Since 1525 was an important year for the Boleyn's, and William Carey/Thomas Boleyn introduced Hornebolte to the English court, it could be that Hornebolte did paint several members of the Boleyn family. A very exciting thought!

    Is there anyway to identify the broach on Mary Boleyn's dress? As you said jewel identification is a way to assist identification of a person :)

    Once again thank you so much for this fascinating article!

    ReplyDelete
  2. Hello Sarah,

    Thanks for your kind thoughts.

    The image on the brooch is small and hard to make out. Do take a look at Alison Weir's new book 'Mary Boleyn' for her thoughts on what it might represent.

    Regards,

    Roland Hui

    ReplyDelete