lingering remains of his early love, knew, that, although he should
make a speaking likeness, it would be a silent one, and that this Frau
Holbein must keep the look which he chose to summon to her face. That,
indeed, was knowledge that was power! How he must have chuckled as he
saw his wife looking at him more natural than life and yet without the
power to worry him! His own portrait shows us a broad, good-natured,
ruddy face, in which we see marks of talent when we know that it is
Holbein's. But in spite of its strength, its bronze, and its beard, it
has a somewhat sad and subdued air; and its heavy-lidded, pensive eyes
look deprecatingly at a Frau Holbein in the distance.

While he lived at Greenwich palace, an incident occurred which may not
be known to all our readers, and which is a striking illustration of the
esteem in which he was held by Henry. It is not a little to the honor
of that monarch, who, arbitrary and sensual as he was, had some noble
traits of character. One day, as Holbein was painting a lady's portrait
in his private studio, a nobleman intruded upon him rudely. Holbein
resented the discourtesy, and, as it was doggedly persisted in, finally
threw my lord downstairs. There was an outcry; and the painter, bolting
his door on the inside, escaped from his window along the eaves of the
roof, and, making his way directly to the King, threw himself before
him and begged a pardon, without telling his offence. Henry promised
forgiveness on condition of a full confession, which the painter began.
But meantime the nobleman arrived, and Henry, in deference to his rank,
gave him precedence, and stepped into another apartment to hear
his story. He accused Holbein of the violence, but suppressed the
provocation; whereat Henry broke into a towering Tudor rage, and, after
reproaching the nobleman for his prevarication, said, "You have to do
with me, Sir. I tell you, that of seven peasants I could make seven
earls like you; but of seven earls I could not make one Holbein. Do not