The Prince of Wales in Spain

This is a good summary of the events behind the subject of Laura Cumming's book The Vanishing Velazquez:

In the spring of 1623 Charles, Prince of Wales, the young heir to the English and Scottish thrones donned a false wig and beard and slipped out of England under the assumed name of John Smith in order to journey to Madrid and secure for himself the hand of the King of Spain's daughter. His father James I and VI had been toying with the idea of a Spanish match for his son since as early as 1605, despite the profoundly divisive ramifications such a policy would have in the face of the determined 'Puritan' opposition in parliament, committed to combatting the forces of international Catholicism at every opportunity. With the Spanish ambassador, the machiavellian Count of Gondomar's encouragement to 'mount' Spain, Charles impetuously took matters into his own hands and as the negotiations stalled he departed secretly in the guise of Mr Smith to win with his romantic and foolhardy daring what his father could not achieve through diplomacy. The eventual failure and public humiliation that followed his journey to Madrid has been cited as a major influence on Charles's subsequent development and policies as king.

Another result of this journey was that Diego Velazquez painted a portrait of Prince Charles, the erstwhile suitor of the Infanta, and that portrait has been lost and found, particularly by one man in the nineteenth century, John Snare. And that's the story Laura Cummings tells, according to the publisher, Simon & Schuster:

From one of the world’s most expert art critics, the incredible true story—part art history and part mystery—of a Velazquez portrait that went missing and the obsessed nineteenth-century bookseller determined to prove he had found it.

When John Snare, a nineteenth-century provincial bookseller, traveled to a liquidation auction, he stumbled on a vivid portrait of King Charles I that defied any explanation. The Charles of the painting was young—too young to be king—and yet also too young to be painted by the Flemish painter to which the work was attributed. Snare had found something incredible—but what?

His research brought him to Diego Velazquez, whose long-lost portrait of Prince Charles has eluded art experts for generations. Velazquez (1599–1660) was the official painter of the Madrid court, during the time the Spanish Empire teetered on the edge of collapse. When Prince Charles of England—a man wealthy enough to help turn Spain’s fortunes—ventured to the court to propose a marriage with a Spanish princess, he allowed just a few hours to sit for his portrait. Snare believed only Velazquez could have met this challenge. But in making his theory public, Snare was ostracized, victim to aristocrats and critics who accused him of fraud, and forced to choose, like Velazquez himself, between art and family.

A thrilling investigation into the complex meaning of authenticity and the unshakable determination that drives both artists and collectors of their work, The Vanishing Velazquez travels from extravagant Spanish courts in the 1700s to the gritty courtrooms and auction houses of nineteenth-century London and New York. But it is above all a tale of mystery and detection, of tragic mishaps and mistaken identities, of class, politics, snobbery, crime, and almost farcical accident. It is a magnificently crafted page-turner, a testimony to how and why great works of art can affect us to the point of obsession.

I wonder if we ever see the portrait in the book? The Wall Street Journal's review of this book (written by Henrik Bering) indicates that the painting has gone underground again:

A few scattered sightings of the portrait follow in Britain. In 1898 it was up for auction by the executors of the late Edward Snare, but it did not sell. Most likely, it was returned to a safe-deposit box at the Snares’ old bank, but again, the lead grows cold. Historians consider the painting lost, but Ms. Cumming holds out a faint hope that it will resurface one day.

I have this book on my pile to read some day: The Spanish Match: A Novel of Catholic Spain by Brennan Pursell.

A Quick Read: Jean Plaidy's "The Murder in the Tower"

Plaidy (aka Victoria Holt, Philippa Carr, Eleanor Hibbert, etc) tells the story of the Overbury murder in this quick-paced and complex novel. The villainess Frances Howard, later the Countess of Essex and then the Countess of Suffolk, is a selfish and manipulative woman who makes Scarlett O'Hara seem like, well, Melanie Hamilton. Scarlett O'Hara never plotted to poison her first husband or murder one of her second husband's friends/opponents!

Plaidy's Frances is always in search of what will make her happy--at first marriage to the Earl of Essex seems a good idea since it will bring her to Court, but by the time he returns from the Continent, she had already fallen in and out of love with Henry, the Prince of Wales. Tiring of Henry she wants to become first the Earl of Somerset's mistress and then his wife, but she is married so has to get rid of that obstacle. Frances has no depth and no real attraction, at least in this reader's view--living for pleasure she is doomed to fail.

This is no great masterpiece of historical fiction; Plaidy skims along the surface of the confusing parties and issues of Jacobean England. At first she depicts the domestic life of James I of England, his wife Anne, their daughter Elizabeth and sons Henry and Charles. Prince Henry seems to threaten his father because of his popularity, but he dies young and then Elizabeth marries the Palatine and is off to Bohemia. Anne and Charles fade to the background while Plaidy explores the world of James's favorites and the underground world of poisons and witchcraft Frances discovers to make the Earl of Somerset love her and kill her husband. Plaidy does not identify James I as a homosexual or these favorites as lovers.

Frances gets off too easy in fiction as she did in life. Though she plotted to murder her first husband and succeeded in murdering Thomas Overbury, James I commutes her death sentence to imprisonment in the Tower and then exile from Court for the sake of his favorite, Robert Carr. Carr's influence with King James, which was supported by Sir Thomas Overbury's skill and intelligence, fades right before his fall as George Villiers's influence rises because of his youth and beauty.

The parties and plotting about the Spanish Match between Charles, the Prince of Wales and the Infanta of Spain are in the background, as are James I's constant fear of assassination and overthrow, and his fascination with witches. One of the minor characters is Henry Howard, the Earl of Northampton, the crypto-Catholic son of Henry Howard, the Earl of Surrey (Henry VIII's last victim). He dies before his role in the murder is fully discovered and just as his great niece Francis needs his help dealing with all the blackmail from those she plotted with to murder Thomas Overbury in the Tower of London.

Entertaining and effective historical fiction. The dialogue reads like real people talking to each other.

I'm no expert in historical attire, but is the gown depicted on the cover--at least the sleeves and the belt make me wonder--historically accurate for the Court of St. James during the rule of James I?

Anne Somerset wrote a nonfiction account of Overbury's murder: Unnatural Murder: Poison at the Court of James I.

Secretary of State, "Revert" and Catholic Colonizer George Calvert

George Calvert, James I's Secretary of State, First Lord Baltimore, founder of Avalon and Maryland colonies, and pioneer in religious freedom, died on the 15th of April 1652. In Supremacy and Survival: How Catholics Endured the English Reformation [(c) 2007, Stephanie Mann], I compare and contrast the Catholic and Anglican lives of Calvert and John Donne, Dean of Saint Paul's. Both were raised in Catholic households; both conformed to the establishment Church of England--but while John Donne remained an Anglican, Lord Baltimore reverted:

George Calvert’s family was harassed into conformity to the Church of England when he was a child. Although his father attended official services, his mother never did, so the Yorkshire authorities not only meddled with their Sunday worship but determined what books they could own and what servants they could hire. Additionally, their children’s Catholic education had to end, so George and his brother came under Protestant tutelage. When he was twelve years old, Calvert conformed to the Church of England.

He was a protégé of Sir Robert Cecil who was principal secretary to Elizabeth I and James I. Calvert attended Oxford and earned his B.A. in 1597 and M.A. in 1605. Becoming private secretary to Cecil, he went on to hold several government posts, each more important than the last: Clerk of the Crown, Clerk of the Privy Council, ambassador to the Court of France, and finally Secretary of State for James I.

After working to support the Spanish alliance James I desired, including the marriage of the Prince of Wales to the Infanta of Spain, Calvert's professional life fell apart when those plans were scuttled. He left Court and in 1624 or 1625 declared himself a Catholic. Surprisingly, he still received honors from James I and Charles I:

Because of his loyal service to James I, however, his conversion did not necessarily leave him a ruined man. James was grateful to his erstwhile secretary, and made him a peer in Ireland as the First Baron Baltimore of Baltimore Manor in County Longford. Although James died a few weeks after this decision, the new king, Charles I, upheld Calvert’s peerage and role on the Privy Council.

As the first Baron Baltimore, Calvert still had influence and access to the court. He also could pursue economic ventures, especially his project to colonize the New World in the name of England and the cause of religious toleration. Although he died before that project could succeed, he left his son, Cecil Calvert, the vision and the means to accomplish it during the reign of Charles I . . .

The story of Lord Baltimore shows that Catholics could be loyal to faith and their country. But it was a complicated task. Before his conversion, Calvert had conformed to the official church. James I and Charles I both accepted him as a Catholic, honoring him and even exempting him from the harassment of searches and travel restrictions his parents had experienced, but that was because of his avowed and demonstrated willingness to serve them.

I then go on to show how Cecil Calvert, the Second Lord Baltimore achieved his father's goals in Maryland after his father died, the difficulties the colony faced, and the final takeover by William and Mary after the Glorious Revolution. John G. Krugler's triple biography, English and Catholic: The Lords Baltimore in the Seventeenth Century was my main source for this story.