Art: Tantalizing Glimpse

Thomas Cardinal Wolsey, the Most Reverend Father in God, Archbishop of York and Lord Chancellor of England, was, next to King Henry VIII, the most powerful man in the realm. But he was also still the poor boy from Ipswich who had constantly to prove himself. It was only natural, therefore, that when he decided to establish a private residence just outside London, it should be the most sumptuous one in the land. In 1514, he picked a site a few miles down the Thames from London. There stood a small manor belonging to the Knights Hospitallers of St. John of Jerusalem. In time, the manor became the great palace of Hampton Court.

Since Wolsey’s day the place has undergone several transformations, notably at the hands of Sir Christopher Wren a century and a half later. Wren remodeled it for his royal masters, William and Mary. But Wolsey’s apartments are still there, and it is said that sometimes at night His Eminence can be heard opening and shutting doors. This summer the thousands of tourists who descend upon Hampton Court can get something of the flavor of Wolsey’s and Henry VIII’s day, as the result of an elaborate restoration job performed by the Ministry of Works. But the restoration has also given the art world an extra dividend: in restoring the 16th century paintings, the ministry uncovered some rare and priceless specimens from the 15th. One official has called them as exciting as the Leonardo cartoon owned by the Royal Academy.

A Sybarite’s Passion. As far as historians know. Cardinal Wolsey was his own chief architect, and he certainly spared neither his talent nor his energies. When he had finished, Hampton Court probably covered eight acres of land, contained 1,000 rooms, was the largest single structure built in England since the days of the Romans. The cardinal employed 2,500 artisans and laborers, filled the place with ornaments and vessels of gold and silver, covered the beds and furnishings with the costliest silks. He had, in fact, a Sybarite’s passion for finery, and he let it be known that he was not averse to accepting “official” gifts. At one point, when the Venetian government was pressing for some trade concessions, its ambassador in London suggested that his superiors dispatch to Hampton Court 100 Damascene carpets at once. “To discuss the matter further until the cardinal receives his 100 carpets would be idle,” he said.

With Wolsey’s failure to get the King’s marriage to Catherine of Aragon annulled, he fell into disgrace, and Henry deprived him not only of his chain of office but his palace as well. Since then, time has not always been kind to it. The small room known as Wolsey’s closet was especially hard hit by history. Its ceiling was caked with grime; the paintings were so blistered, peeled and blackened with varnish that they were hardly worth looking at. It took restorers 18 months to complete their work.

The Rose Revealed. Cardinal Wolsey loved bright color. Under the layers of dirt, the restorers gradually revealed the brilliant Tudor blue (“byse”) and gold work of the ceiling Wolsey ordered. It displayed the Tudor rose and the white plumes of the Prince of Wales, and it consists of 129 panels made up of a kind of papier-mâché. For the few panels that had been destroyed, the restorers finally came close to duplicating the material. One of its ingredients was goats’ hair.

The Ministry of Works’ chief restorer, Alistair Stewart, thinks that the 16th century paintings of the Passion were commissioned by Henry. Other panels were covered with a blackened 17th century overpainting of inferior quality. It was when the restorers X-rayed these for the 16th century work beneath that they found traces of an even earlier work. Stewart attributes the 16th century paintings to one Lambert Lombard, who, in blotting out the paintings already on the canvas, used a coat of solid color that actually preserved at least part of them. The restorers feel they have uncovered as much as the X rays indicate exists, and so the art world will have to be satisfied with this tantalizing glimpse of a work that must have been a masterpiece.