Front Cover
 Front Matter
 Title Page
 Table of Contents
 Chapter I: A pretty piece...
 Chapter II: The great Dr....
 Chapter III: The portrait
 Chapter IV: The new book
 Chapter V: Good advice
 Chapter VI: A blue-bottle
 Chapter VII: Up the river
 Chapter VIII: A welcome
 Chapter IX: Bright days
 Chapter X: Royal favours
 Chapter XI: An unlucky picture
 Chapter XII: Lord Jacko
 Chapter XIII: Wisdom and folly
 Chapter XIV: A quiet morning
 Chapter XV: Calm days
 Back Cover

Title: Hans the painter
Full Citation
Permanent Link: http://ufdc.ufl.edu/UF00055792/00001
 Material Information
Title: Hans the painter
Physical Description: 96 p., 1 leaf of plates : ill. (some col.) ; 17 cm.
Language: English
Creator: Rowsell, Mary C ( Mary Catherine )
Blackie & Son ( Publisher )
Publisher: Blackie & Son
Place of Publication: London ;
Glasgow ;
Edinburgh ;
Publication Date: [1888?]
Subject: Artists -- Juvenile fiction   ( lcsh )
Philosophers -- Juvenile fiction   ( lcsh )
Kings and rulers -- Juvenile fiction   ( lcsh )
Biographical fiction -- 1888   ( rbgenr )
Prize books (Provenance) -- 1888   ( rbprov )
Bldn -- 1888
Genre: Biographical fiction   ( rbgenr )
Prize books (Provenance)   ( rbprov )
novel   ( marcgt )
Spatial Coverage: England -- London
Scotland -- Glasgow
Scotland -- Edinburgh
Ireland -- Dublin
Statement of Responsibility: by Mary C. Rowsell.
General Note: Date of publication from inscription.
General Note: Frontispiece printed in shades of sepia.
Funding: Preservation and Access for American and British Children's Literature, 1870-1889 (NEH PA-50860-00).
 Record Information
Bibliographic ID: UF00055792
Volume ID: VID00001
Source Institution: University of Florida
Holding Location: Baldwin Library of Historical Children's Literature in the Department of Special Collections and Area Studies, George A. Smathers Libraries, University of Florida
Rights Management: All rights reserved, Board of Trustees of the University of Florida.
Resource Identifier: aleph - 002236803
notis - ALH7281
oclc - 70160100

Table of Contents
    Front Cover
        Cover 1
        Cover 2
    Front Matter
        Page 1
        Page 2
    Title Page
        Page 3
    Table of Contents
        Page 4
    Chapter I: A pretty piece of work
        Page 5
        Page 6
        Page 7
        Page 8
        Page 9
        Page 10
        Page 11
        Page 12
        Page 13
    Chapter II: The great Dr. Erasmus
        Page 14
        Page 15
        Page 16
        Page 17
        Page 18
    Chapter III: The portrait
        Page 19
        Page 20
        Page 21
        Page 22
    Chapter IV: The new book
        Page 23
        Page 24
        Page 25
        Page 26
    Chapter V: Good advice
        Page 27
        Page 28
        Page 29
        Page 30
        Page 31
        Page 32
    Chapter VI: A blue-bottle
        Page 33
        Page 34
        Page 35
        Page 36
        Page 37
        Page 38
        Page 39
        Page 40
    Chapter VII: Up the river
        Page 41
        Page 42
        Page 43
        Page 44
        Page 45
        Page 46
        Page 47
    Chapter VIII: A welcome
        Page 48
        Page 49
        Page 50
        Page 51
        Page 52
        Page 53
    Chapter IX: Bright days
        Page 54
        Page 55
        Page 56
        Page 57
        Page 58
        Page 59
    Chapter X: Royal favours
        Page 60
        Page 61
        Page 62
        Page 63
        Page 64
        Page 65
    Chapter XI: An unlucky picture
        Page 66
        Page 67
        Page 68
        Page 69
        Page 70
        Page 71
        Page 72
    Chapter XII: Lord Jacko
        Page 73
        Page 74
        Page 75
        Page 76
        Page 77
        Page 78
    Chapter XIII: Wisdom and folly
        Page 79
        Page 80
        Page 81
        Page 82
        Page 83
        Page 84
    Chapter XIV: A quiet morning
        Page 85
        Page 86
        Page 87
        Page 88
        Page 89
        Page 90
        Page 91
        Page 92
        Page 93
    Chapter XV: Calm days
        Page 94
        Page 95
        Page 96
    Back Cover
        Cover 1
        Cover 2
Full Text

The Baldwin Library


4!' S7i- -/-f
/ 1'

i.,,j .r .--=- -
S I, .. i

--- ,


_I'i ' ,




Author of "Traitor or Patriot?" Fisherman Grim;" Sepperi the
Drummer Boy;" &c. &c.

S ..- X. .,.



CHAP. Page


III. THE PORTRAIT, .. .. . .19

IV. THE NEW BooK, .. . 23

V. GOOD ADVICE, .. . 27

VI. A BLUE-BOTTLE,. .. . .. .33

VII. UP THE RIVER, . .... .. 41

VIII. A WELCOME, . . .. 48

IX. BRIGHT DAYS, . . .. 54

X. ROYAL FAVOURS, . ..... 60

XI. AN UNLUCKY PICTURE, . ... ..... 66

XII. LORD JACKO, . .. . 73



XV. CAL DAYS, ... . ... 91




OST people have heard of the Rhine, if a
great many have never seen it, the famous
beautiful river that, taking its rise in Swit-
zerland, and winding on between the vine-
clad hills of France and Germany, widens out amid
the flat marshy meadows of Holland, and falls at last
into the North Sea.
Not far from the spot where the Rhine turns
northward into Germany, stands the city of Basel.
It is very ancient, and was probably founded by
the Romans. It is a fine city, standing on high
sloping banks, which are washed by the broad clear
green river, and sheltered on one side by the Jura
Mountains, and on the other by the tree-clad hills of
the Black Forest. It has always been a very pros-


perous city; for one reason among several, that it
stands at the meeting-point of the three countries of
Switzerland, France, and Germany. I put Switzer-
land first, because Basel belongs to Switzerland, and is
the capital of the canton, or particular division of the
country. The people there call such a division a can-
ton, just as in England we say county.
The cathedral of Basel is a curious building with
red walls, and one of its towers shorter than the
other. It also has a grand old fish-market, and a
town-hall whose front is adorned with frescoes.
Frescoes are pictures painted in water-colours on
freshly-prepared plaster. They are often to be seen
on the inside walls of churches, and other public build-
ings in this country, but very rarely out-of-doors as one
sees them abroad. There is one other famous thing
in Basel, more famous even in times past than now,
and that is its university; and this brings me to speak
of the many famous men who have in their time
studied and taught in it. One of these was the
learned Dutchman Erasmus.
And if Basel contained a great many clever men,
and these by the way not all in its university, it had
also some queer customs of its own. One of these
was, that its clocks always struck an hour forward of
all the other clocks in the world. The tale went that
this curious custom arose out of a conspiracy once
made in Basel. to deliver the town to the enemy who


was outside trying to take it, when by chance seem-
ingly, the big town-clock, having got out of gear,
struck one when it should have struck twelve, and
thus the plans of the conspirators were upset, and
the city was saved; and ever since that time, to com-
memorate the fact, all the Basel clocks were made to
strike one hour in advance.
This plan rather put some folks about, but others
found it convenient. There was for instance, a
young scapegrace of the city, who nine times out of
ten, persisted in forgetting the singular arrangement,
and leaving off work just an hour too soon. That is
to say, for example, when the clocks struck eleven, he
said it was dinner-time, whereas even in those early
days people did not dine earlier than eleven, and of
course it was only ten. Young Master Good-for-
nothing, as his many friends called him, for he was a
favourite in spite of his tricks-young Master Hans
Holbein, for these were his two proper names-insisted
however, that it behoved him above all things to be
punctual, and off he would go from his work, which
was that of a house painter and decorator. Had he
been equally careful to obey the clock the next time
it struck, it would of course have been all even and
ship-shape, but he did not; and so while other people
got their one hour's rest, he got two.
This was certainly very scandalous behaviour on
the part of Master Hans; and his employers ought to


have put a stop to it. The only shadow of an excuse
for him was, that when he did work, he worked with
a will, and work it was, not all left-hand fingers and
thumbs, like half the clumsy fellows of the same call-
ihg, but exquisite and dainty as you might wish to
see; and so while everybody who employed him flew
into a rage with him, everybody wanted him to work
for them, and he had more work than he could get
through, especially after the fashion he chose to
do it.
One day it happened that an old apothecary named
Popps thought his house and shop wanted painting
up a bit; and so it did, for not a brush had touched it
for years, and all its carved timber work was rotting,
and the noses of the little stone cherubs chipping off,
and for all that was to be seen of the row of fresco
paintings that lay between the shop front and the
first-floor windows, there might never have been any,
for the very plaster hung down like turnip peelings.
"Paint me," said Apothecary Popps, when Hans
arrived with his ladder and paint-pots and maul-sticks.
"Stay, let me see," and the old gentleman looked up
meditatively at the now smooth clean plaster; "yes,
in the middle there, we will have Esculapius-if you
know who that is," he added grandly.
"Oh, yes! the god of medicine! I know him," said
Hans confidently. "Not a bad sort of fellow in his
way I expect. Eh master?"


"And who told you about him?" said the apo-
"Dr. Erasmus."
"Dr. Erasmus indeed! The great scholar stoop to
chatter with a flibbertigibbet like you! What next
I wonder?"
"Yes," said Hans, "as you say, what next? for
lE iil,'-, won't take up all the room, judging
by his portrait that Dr. Erasmus showed me in a
book of his. He wasn't so fat as-as some apothe-
caries are now; and there will be three nice clear
little spaces left, one on each side of the picture, and
one below."
"Well, here then, you shall paint me the represen-
tation of the bird of ,Esculapius."
"The bird?"
"Yes; by the pleasant fashions of those highly polite
and civilized times, whose falling away is greatly to be
regretted, it was a custom for patients to make an
offering of a cock to Esculapius. But for my part,
I don't taste fowls six times a year, and when I do, I
have to buy 'em."
"Ah! then perhaps you never cure anybody," said
Hans. "And if you kill them, there's an end of all
their giving."
"You don't know what you're talking about young
man. If you really knew the great Dr. Erasmus he
could no doubt tell you, that the mighty philosopher


Socrates left particular orders with his friend Crito,
to pay a cock to IEsculapius when he was dead."
"Of boiled hemlock. The wiseheads ordered him
to be poisoned, didn't they?" said Hans.
"Something like that, yes," nodded Popps.
"Well, if _Esculapius, or any of his sort, had a
hand in brewing the stuff, which I expect was the
case, I'd have cooked the cock, and eaten him myself
if I had been Crito," said Hans, as he proceeded to
mix his paints.
"You talk great nonsense. Stick to your brushes,
sir," said Popps severely. "And see, to match the
cock, in the other corner, paint me a pestle and mor-
tar, and don't be all day about it."
"Oh no!" said Hans, beginning to mount the
"A pestle and mortar will look delightful," went
on Popps, rubbing his hands with satisfaction.
"And, hi! see!" he called to Hans, now setting to
work atop of the ladder. "Yes. In the blank space
facing you, under JEsculapius, put a pair of forceps-
pincers-as large as ever you can make 'em. That'll
tempt all the folks to my shop, I'll warrant," went on
the old gentleman gleefully. "As large as there's
room for; do you hear?" he piped up at the top of
his voice, as he turned indoors. "And mind, no
shirking or truant-playing. I've my eye on you."
"All right!" nodded Hans.


The apothecary's shop faced the fish-market, and
Hans had not been long at work, before half the
sellers and buyers, and all the idlers of the place, had
stopped to watch what he was doing. But amusing
as it was, none of them stopped long, for the day
was a broiling hot one.
"Phew!" said they as they passed on, "if the poor
fellow stops there much longer, he will be frizzled to
a cinder."
"I say Hans," laughingly shouted up another,
"why don't you ask old Popps to give you a
drink "
"No thanks!" laughed back Hans, making a wry
face, and working busily on at 2Esculapius' sandalled
toes. "None of his stuff for me. I shall be down
"All right!" said the other; "I'll wait for you at
the corner; and we'll go and have a cool tankard at
the 'Goose,' and get a swim down by the St. Alban's
A cool tankard! How tempting it sounded in the
scorched ears of Hans, baking up there on the top of
the ladder. And the hours righteously counted, want-
ing one more-a whole sixty minutes to leaving-off
time! Hans wiped the heat drops from his face, and
glanced round.
Apothecary Popps was gone in; possibly because
he could not remain out any longer, for the heat.


"Here goes then!" said Hans to himself; and hey,
presto! with a few rapid strokes of his brush, he had
sketched upon the wall, between the. :.l.1i-,, -, a
pair of blue legs and red breeches, striped with brown,
so marvellously like those he wore that they looked
the very things. Then, leaving his paint-pots and
paraphernalia where they were, he clapped his arms
and real live legs round the ladder, slid to the bottom
of it, and was gone in a twinkling.
Scarcely had he done this than out came apothecary
Popps. "Ah, ah!" said he, looking up, and seeing
the legs, "there you are friend Hans, that is what I
like to see now. Work away my good fellow; work
away." Then he went in to his dinner, and after that,
finding the heat unendurable, he took an extra long
forty winks.
But all that done, when he came out to see how his
fresco was getting on, Hans had not come back. He
was just coming however, and in his hurry, not seeing
the old gentleman, he ran full tilt against him just at
the foot of the ladder.
"Hallo!" gasped Popps, staggering back as much
from astonishment, as the force of Hans' sturdy body,
" I thought you were-up-there !" and he pointed to
the painted legs.
"Did you?" said Hans very gravely. "Well, I am
going;" and up he sprang out of harm's way.
"What are those?" cried Popps.


"Those," said Hans. "Ah, oh! Did you not bid
me paint you a pair of forceps?"
"Forceps indeed!" growled Popps. "They are a
great deal more like your good-for-nothing legs."
"Do you think so!" said Hans, beginning to paint
them out. "Then that won't do at all. I must try
'If at first you don't succeed,
Try again! try again!'"

hummed he, and in a few moments the bulgy propor-
tions all straightened down into the slim outlines of
the most elegant, and perhaps the largest, pair of
forceps ever seen. i
"Is that better, do you think he said, bending
backward to contemplate this new effect.
"No matter what I think," grimly said Popps.
"Unless it is that I think you are an incorrigible
rogue and vagabond; and I shall never employ you
"Well, it'll last a good hundred years, if it lasts a
day. And since I've done my work, will it please you
to pay for it?"
"Ay, ay!" said apothecary Popps, as he counted
out Hans' wages. "If you had your rights, that would
be a good whipping."




THE story of Hans' trick on apothecary Popps
spread like wildfire through Basel, greatly to the
old gentleman's annoyance; for though it brought all
sorts and conditions of curiosity-mongers to the outside
of his shop to stare at the wonderful pictures on his
house front, it sent very few inside. "I don't see,"
he grunted to his particular chums, "that all this
expense I've gone to, has done me much good. I'm
not sure indeed, that it hasn't done harm; for young
Jackanapes Holbein has made such hideously real
things of those tooth-drawers he has painted up there,
that people shudder as they go by. I've seen 'em;
and what's more, yesterday one idiot with his cheek
puffed out as big as a small cabbage, mumbles 'No:
thank you, sooner than have my teeth scrowged about
with a thing like that, I'd put up with a hundred
toothaches,' and on he goes. So what's the good of
making things look nice t I've only put money into
that Hans' pockets."
That was undoubtedly true, for Hans began to be
in immense request; and very soon his fame reached
the ears of the town-council, and they gave him an
order to cover the front of the town-hall with frescoes.


This he did so thoroughly to their satisfaction, that
they next thought how improved the fish-market would
be by something of the same sort; and he set to work
on the walls, and before long had painted a row of
merry pictures of peasants dancing and enjoying them-
selves in the fields.
How real it all looks!" admiringly said the clergy-
man of the church of St. Dominic. This Hans Holbein
deserves to be encouraged. He shall paint a Dance of
Death on the walls of my church; for time's fingers
have rubbed out the old one, as a school-boy rubs out
a drawing on his slate; and it is now nothing but a
smeary shadow. And what is your church without
its Dance of Death?"
That was true. Everybody in those days knew
what a Dance of Death was. In France it was more
generally called a Dance Macabre, a title which has
long been a puzzle to students, its precise origin
being unknown. It is supposed, however, that what
was afterwards painted in a row of pictures, or in
one long picture, was in earlier Christian times, a
procession of real people dressed up to represent all
sorts of characters, who marched along two by two,
one of the two being always a skeleton, that is to
say, the representation of one. Here went a king,
there a beggar, next the Pope of Rome, or an
emperor or lovely queen. Then perhaps a poor old
man, after him a beautiful child or a youth, then a


clergyman, then an apothecary, then a miser, all
dragged from their business or pleasure, or their good
deeds or bad ones, by the bony hand of death, and led
away into the unseen, rich, poor, happy, or wretched
as they might be, for death ends all in this world.
Even at their best, these processions could hardly
have been very seemly, and no doubt soon they grew
to be riotous, and had to be done away with; but the
great truth that all must die, had just the same to be
kept in people's minds; and so the next idea was to
paint it on the walls of the church or the churchyard,
and in prayer-books in the illuminated borders round
the pages.
There were few clever artists in those days who
were not commissioned to paint these Dances of
Death; and in many towns of France and Germany,
and other countries of Europe, their remains are fre-
quently to be seen.
When Hans had painted the Dance of Death,
which of course took some time, he was wanted to
decorate the cathedral organ. Of all his pictures
some preferred however, those he painted on the
town-hall, representing the story of the life and death
of Jesus Christ. Among those who did so, was the
learned professor of the university, Dr. Erasmus; and
one morning as Hans was crossing the broad open
space in front of the town-hall, he saw Erasmus exam-
ining them very closely.


"That is Dr. Erasmus," said Hans to himself, and
with no small pride and pleasure in his heart, for
Hans was ,,.-!u....-ily quick to read the thoughts
of people in their faces, and if he read aright, Dr.
Erasmus was looking very approvingly.
For a moment Hans stood still; once he had spoken
with the learned doctor, when he had had a little job
of decorating to do in the university library; and
while he was stealing a peep into a book that lay open
on the table, Erasmus had chanced to come in, and
seeing him interested, he had shown him some of the
pictures contained in the book, which was about the
heathen gods of old Greece; and that in fact, was how
Hans had come to know about REsculapius, which
had so astonished apothecary Popps. Now there was
nothing Hans had more a fancy for, than another little
talk with Dr. Erasmus. He had seemed so kind and
plain in his way of speaking, and not at all as if you
were a lump of mud, and he a piece of gilt ginger-
bread, as some of the town-council big-wigs talked;
and yet somehow, Hans, who was not very shy, and
had very little fear of the town-council folks, rather
hesitated before he ventured nearer to the professor,
where he stood looking at his frescoes. At last how-
ever, he crossed the open space, and as he came near
Erasmus, he lifted his cap respectfully, and said it was
good weather.
"Excellent weather indeed," replied Erasmus. "And
(427) B


these pictures of yours are admirable too. Are they
entirely your own conception?"
"Yes," replied Hans, "if you mean, as I suppose,
are they all done out of my own head."
"Then by Jupiter, it can be no empty one! And
for these hands," and Erasmus stretched out his own
hand, and taking Holbein's warmly clasped it, "they
deserve good measure put into them."
"And so please you, they always take care they
have it," said Holbein, who could only think Erasmus
meant ale or wine measure.
"Come, come!" laughed Erasmus; "it was the
measure of honours and fair payment for your talents
that I meant. But tell me, when you leave your
work to-day, where do you go"
"So please you," replied Hans, "to the 'Goose,' as
I go every day."
"It does not please me," gravely smiled Erasmus;
"and you are the goose to go there."
"All my comrades go there," sighed Hans, "and I
must bestow my company somewhere."
"Then for a change," said Erasmus, what do you
say to bestowing it on me to-night? I drink only at
the fountain of learning; but you shall not find me so
dry as some will have it that I am. Will you come
I have some rare book-borderings sent me yesterday
from the wood-graver's at Rotterdam, that I think you
might like to see."


Hans' eyes sparkled with pleasure. "Right gladly
I will come," he replied; and so for the time they



THAT day when Dr. Erasmus and. Hans Holbein
met in front of the town-hall, was the beginning
of a golden time for both. Years and years older than
Hans, Erasmus was young in heart; and Hans, for all
his harum-scarum ways, had a head that would not
have disgraced older shoulders than his. The two
became fast friends, and many an hour Hans used to
spend after his day's work was done, in the quiet study
of Dr. Erasmus, in his lodging by the University gate,
instead of frittering the time away in strolling about,
or drinking at the "Goose" as once he used to do.
Often after one of those long pleasant chats with
his learned friend about anything and everything
under the sun, Hans used to go home through the
silent streets, thinking to himself what hosts upon
hosts of things there were to know-and if only one
knew them! One thing he did come to know, which
he had not learnt when he spent all his time at the
"Goose," and that was his own ignorance; and how


if one was ever to be anything better than a mere.
clever dauber, it was necessary to be as much of a
scholar as one could.
"I do believe there is nothing in the wide world you
do not know," said Hans once to Erasmus, after he had
been asking him all sorts of questions about Rome
and Greece, and Xerxes, and King Haroun Alraschid,
and Coesar, and Solomon, and what the sun was made
of, and a thousand such-like things; "nothing you do
not know."
"Nothing I do know," gravely said Erasmus, "or
next to nothing."
"They say you are one of the cleverest persons in
the world," said Hans, as gravely contemplating his.
That may be," said Erasmus, for it is not saying
Some will have it," continued Hans, looking a little
puzzled, "that the Pope of Rome himself is not so
learned as you."
"Why, that is very likely," laughed Erasmus.
"And some say that even Dr. Luther, and Dr.
Melanchthon, and Dr. Bucer all together are not so
wise as you."
That is possible too," said Erasmus with a shrug of
his bent shoulders, "though I believe it is much of a
muchness Hans. 'To every man his gift,' say the
Scriptures; and mine, I take it, is in the study with


my quiet friends the books, since I never had strong
health, while Dr. Luther was born to make a noise in
the world."
"Ay; and he does not fail at it. You can hear
him a mile off. Is that why folks call him the Wit-
tenberg Bull?"
"One reason perhaps," said Erasmus.
"I am not fond of such boisterous folks," said Hans,
as his eyes rested on the quiet thoughtful face of his
friend. "They are too much like a flaring picture."
"Nor I," replied Erasmus. "But they are some-
times exceedingly useful. But talking of pictures
Hans, I have been thinking-what say you to paint-
ing mine?"
"I too have thought a great deal about that," said
Hans, turning delighted eyes on Erasmus, "but I
dared not ask you."
"Not ask me! Why not?" said Erasmus.
"I feared to attempt it, lest I might fail."
"That is not like you," smiled Erasmus. It would
be nothing so difficult for your clever fingers; a few
wrinkles, a few gray hairs-"
"And a something that makes your face so beauti-
ful behind all these, that I fear no skill of mine can
reproduce with a poor bit of paint; but I should
rarely like to try."
"I design it for a present to an old friend."
"In Basel?"


"NTo; in England."
Ah, that's an odd country, England, isn't it? Full
of queer people."
"Yes. Sometimes I think it is the proper place
for you. And the English people are very fond of
"I don't think I care to leave Basel," said Hans.
"What should I do away from-"
"'The Goose?'" laughed Erasmus.
"And you, yes," admitted Hans sorrowfully.
"As for the 'Goose,' there are plenty of geese in
"Now you are laughing at me," grumbled Hans.
"But I was thinking of kind good friends."
"There is one there," more seriously said Erasmus,
"who for good old friendship's sake with me, would
be a friend to you. The noblest kindest man who
ever breathed."
"The King of England do you mean?" said Hans,
who had heard from many in Basel what high-born
company had been eager to entertain Erasmus in his
many travels in Europe.
"Henry! No," said Erasmus a little tartly; "no,
certainly not. His chancellor, Sir Thomas More."
"But about your portrait," said Hans, who was quite
content with his life in Basel. "When may I begin 1"
"Oh, to-morrow, if you have leisure."
"I can find it for that," said Hans.




THE painting of Dr. Erasmus' portrait went on very
well indeed. Hans took more pains over it, than
over anything he had ever done in his life; which was
however, still quite a young one.
He would not always take pains in those days; and
his love of ease, and of what he called "pleasure" some-
times brought him into a great deal of trouble; because
it made his work behind time, and people refused to
pay him as much as they had been ready to do if he
had been punctual. Then too, a great deal of the
money he did receive was spent in a very foolish way;
that is to say, a great deal too much of it went into
the till of the landlord of the Goose," or of the "Cap
and Bells," or the "Mousetrap," and other ale-houses
of Basel.
There might be some little excuse for Hans, for he
was a bright-witted, sociable fellow, and people liked
his company; and in those days there were very few
books to read which were not either very dry and
solemn, or else very nonsensical; and it was something
the same with music. It was all very solemn, such as
is used in church; or else it was a noisy rollicking
tintangle, with very little melody.


Erasmus was greatly grieved to see Hans behave so
foolishly, and strove his best to keep him from it; and
in a measure he succeeded. He was for ever telling
him that he ought to turn over a new leaf; and one
day Hans came to him with a very demure face, and
said that at last he had done so; but when Erasmus
found the sort of leaf it was, he looked far graver
than Hans, for Hans had married, and as it soon
turned out, had a very bad wife. This was just what
Erasmus feared, for Hans had married his old house-
keeper's niece, and the housekeeper had told Erasmus
that the young woman was unthrifty, and ill-tempered,
and not at all one to make Hans happy at home, or
keep him steady and fond of his work, as a good in-
dustrious-wife might have managed to do; if he must
have a wife, which Erasmus considered was not at all
Hans' wife took no interest in his painting, although
she liked the money his work brought, to buy her
fine clothes to deck herself out with; and then her
loud tongue and shrewish ways had the effect of
hunting him out of the house, and sending him more
than ever to the Goose," running up a ruinous score
You ought to try and stay more at home," said
Dr. Erasmus one day to him. "There is no rose
without a thorn," he went on, trying to excuse the


"But there seem to be plenty of thorns without
roses," said Hans. There were a few roses at first,
but they all dropped off in no time; and it isn't all
my fault," protested Hans. "It isn't I assure you,
Dr. Erasmus, I'm a-I'm-"
"A troublesome customer."
Well, I'm not perfect I daresay, but I'd like to do
"I believe that," nodded Erasmus.
And study and paint, and all that! but who could,
with such a tongue in the house ? You can hear it a
mile off; and clack, clack, clack, it goes, like a mill-
clapper. I expect she's just another-you know whom
I mean Dr. Erasmus-the woman that other stupid
fellow married; Xan-Xant-what the mischief was
her name ?"
"Xantippe, the wife of Socrates, the great philoso-
pher. You call him a stupid fellow," said Erasmus
indignantly. "The wisest man that ever lived."
"Not wise enough to choose a good wife anyhow,"
said Hans. So you can't blame me Dr. Erasmus,
for I never set up to be anything. I don't wonder at
him not minding to be in prison, for at all events, he
was out of Xantippe's way there I suppose. Often
I think I could run to the end of the world, if she
didn't run after me; and I don't think she would.
She doesn't care for me much, I am quite sure."
"Oh, you foolish, foolish Hans!" said Erasmus


sadly, as he absently turned over the leaves of a book
before him with a sad smile.
What have you there?" asked Hans, always ready
to forget his troubles when he could.
A book for you," said Erasmus.
"For me?" delightedly asked Hans. Is it the one
you have been writing this long time?"
"Yes," said Erasmus. My Morice Encomium," he
added, smiling at the long face Hans pulled, as he
generally did when he heard a word of Latin or
"But what is the double Dutch of it?" said Hans.
"Double Dutch! you mean High Dutch?" said
It's much the same thing," said the daring Hans.
"And, anyhow, is it enough like my mother's tongue
for me to understand it?"
Oh, never fear!" said Erasmus. I have caused
it to be put into the vulgar tongue."
"Vulgar tongue?"
"German; so that the greatest dunce may read it.
It is rather good reading for dunces."
"Why, so I should say," said Hans, opening his
new book and peeping into it, "for I see in the
vulgar tongue as you call it Dr. Erasmus, it is called
The Praise of Folly. Now that must be a good book."
"I hope so," said Erasmus; "and when you have
crowned it, it will be better still."


"IU" said Hans; "I don't understand."
"Take it home with you, and then perhaps you
may," said Erasmus, still quietly smiling.



ONE evening a short time after that, Hans Holbein
entered Dr. Erasmus' study with The Praise of
Folly in his hand.
"I have crowned your work," he said, as he ad-
vanced through the shadows of the room into the
lamp-light. See whether you like it." Then he drew
back rather abashed, for he perceived that Erasmus
had a visitor with him, a handsome young gentleman,
whose slender and yet stately figure was attired in
rich garments.
"Nay, come forward Hans," said Erasmus. "This
my lord," he went on, turning to the gentleman, "is
the young friend of whom I was speaking to you,
Hans Holbein; and though for the first time," he
went on, addressing Hans, you see the Earl of Surrey
in the flesh, you know him well, do you not Hans?"
Indeed you have stood well pictured in my mind


from Dr. Erasmus' fair report," said Hans, bowing
low to the young English nobleman.
"I do well," said the earl, returning the salutation
with great and winning courtesy, "to be so honour-
ably considered." Then seeing that Erasmus had taken
the book from Hans' hands, and was turning over its
pages with looks of deep interest and curiosity, Some
new work, Dr. Erasmus?" he inquired.
A recent one my lord," replied Erasmus. My
Praise of Folly."
Ay, ay," said the nobleman in pleased expectant
tones, holding out his hand for it.
"And illustrated it would seem, by my friend Hans
here," went on Erasmus, giving the book to the earl.
"I bade him crown my poor work."
And richly he seems to have done it," laughed the
earl, "with a wealth of fool's caps!" and at every page
he turned, he laughed more heartily, snatching between
times more than one look at the roguish Hans, who
stood grave as old Time, and with downcast eyes,
as if he was not able to say as much as "Bo" to a
There was as great a craze in those days for writing
and reading books wherein the various knaveries, or
the foolish ways of human beings are shown up, as
there is in these. People never seemed to tire of
laughing at themselves, or rather at their neighbours,
for of course they themselves never did anything


wrong or stupid. One famous writer, named Sebastian
Brandt, not very long before, had written such a book,
and called it The .. of Fools. It is a curious book,
full of queer pictures, with verses describing their
meaning beneath; and not the least queer of the
pictures is its frontispiece, which represents a huge
ship floating on the waves, loaded with passengers,
every one of them wearing a fool's cap. None of
them look exactly as if they know where they are
going; let us hope it is to some land where plenty of
wisdom fruit grows.
When the preachers wanted something to make a
sermon about, they often chose one of the follies set
forth in Sebastian Brandt's book.
Dr. Erasmus' new book was something of the same
kind; but it had no pictures. Hans however, soon set
this to rights in his copy, and drew a picture to illus-
trate each different subject Erasmus had written about
in his work; arid where there had not been space
to draw them in the margin of the page, Hans had
done them on little slips of paper, and pasted them
on the edge, and so wonderfully clever all these pic-
tures were, that it was no wonder Erasmus and Lord
Surrey laughed so heartily over them.
"It takes a wise head to make so many fools," said
the earl at last, for he was very witty and learned him-
self; and felt full of admiration for Hans Holbein's
humorous ideas, as well as for the beautiful work of


his hands. You must be held in great esteem here
Master Holbein," he added.
"So, so," said Erasmus, answering for Hans, who
seemed not to know what to say in reply. "But
Basel, after all is said and done, is not a large place;
and, 'tis like Chanticleer and his jewel, with the folks
in it, they do not know how rightly to prize the trea-
sures they have."
Master Holbein should come to England," said the
earl. "His majesty, as you well know, loves pictures,
and would give him a royal welcome."
"As I have often told Hans," said Erasmus; "but
I fear he too is like Chanticleer in his way, for he sets
not such value on his talent, as he is well entitled to
do, and he pays my counsel no heed, and persists in
his own ways."
"And what is that ?" asked the Earl.
Something like this," said Erasmus, pointing to
one of Hans' pictures, "for here certainly Hans has
drawn himself."
The earl smiled a little, and yet looked very grave
as he glanced at the picture, which represented a
broad-shouldered fellow, with his arms embracing a
beer jug, and talking nonsense with a silly-looking
girl. "Hans prefers this manner of passing his time,
instead of making himself famous," continued Eras-
mus; and as he spoke he took his pen and wrote
under the picture: "Hans Holbein."


"I am truly sorry," said the earl, "to think gifts so
great should be wasted; for Heaven saves them for the
few, though indeed it is but natural for the flame to
dwindle or drop away, where it is not well nourished.
I am persuaded Master Holbein, that England is the
proper place for you."
But Hans, who was vexed with Erasmus for expos-
ing his folly, replied rather sulkily:
"But if Dr. Erasmus is to be trusted, my lord,
learned and respected as he is, your country treated
him scurvily when he left its shores; and if it could
do so to him, what would become of me?"
"How?" said the earl.
"Oh!" smiled Erasmus, "that is true in a way.
The custom-house officers at Dover seized my money
by mistake-"
"Mistake forsooth!" cried the earl.
"Ay, they believed it to be English coin; and that
is not allowed to be taken out of the country; but it
was not English coin. Still they would not listen to my
explanations, but took it, leaving me penniless when
I reached Paris, whither I was bound."
"And what did you do?" asked the earl. "By my
faith! these Jacks in office who exceed their duties,
should be crowned with one of Master Hans' fools' caps.
What did you do ?"
"Having no money I expect I must have starved,
but for quickly getting together a book of wise saws,



adages, and proverbs, and selling it to a printer, who
sold it very well."
"Ay, the Adagia," said the earl. "Who does not
know them?"
"And here you see Dr. Erasmus at his work, my
lord," said Hans, showing the earl another picture in
the book-of a musty old bookworm scraping up all
sorts of dusty old papers, and learned odds and ends,
under which he had hastily written Adagia.
But Erasmus only smiled at Hans' little bit of
malice for what he had told the earl of his laziness.
"Which of us is the more foolish?" went on Hans.
"I, who run no dangers, but stay at home and enjoy
If you do," said the earl, looking keenly at Hans;
"if it be real enjoyment."
Hans wriggled uneasily, but he continued-" Or
Dr. Erasmus, who spends all his time in racking his
brains to content other folks."
"Why, that is quickly answered," said Erasmus,
"for I shall be remembered when I am dead-for a
little while."
For all time," said the earl. Some day you will
have your statue set up."
Statues can't feel," objected Hans. "It wouldn't
make me more comfortable, if I had fifty statues of
me set up; and if I want pictures of myself, I can
make any number by copying what I see in a glass."


The earl shrugged his shoulders. Time was, of
course,. better spent than in arguing with such a
happy-go-lucky fellow as this.
"It is none the less a pity you should see it all so,
Master Hans, who have power to do so much."
And though for a long time after that Hans drowsed
and daundered on in the same indolent way, often he
saw in his mind the Earl of Surrey's handsome earnest
face, and his eyes gravely fixed on him, and he seemed
to hear his pleasant and yet chiding tones bidding
him bestir himself.



E VERY year now began to make things worse for
SHans. The holes in his wife's temper grew wider
and wider, and his little family grew larger and larger,
and the money in his purse shrank smaller and smaller,
until it became next to nothing. Then at last he
began to think seriously. How he wished now he
had taken that advice of the Earl of Surrey, and gone
to England, and one day he gathered courage, and
told his only true friend, Dr. Erasmus, all that was in
his mind.
"And it is never too late to mend," said Erasmus.
(427) 0


"Lose no more time, but start at once. You shall
carry with you a letter of introduction from me to
my good friend Sir Thomas More, and I warrant he
will receive you kindly; and that you shall not go
begging in London."
But on his way there poor Hans did go begging
very much. He was too proud to tell Erasmus that
he had no more money than what he must leave
behind for the wants of his family; and perhaps he
was right, for Erasmus was a long way from being as
rich in purse as he was in learning; and so it came
about that one florin was all Hans had in his pocket
when lie left Basel.
It was a sad parting between Hans and Erasmus,
for they loved each other dearly; and when the time
to bid farewell came at last, Hans fell on his friend's
bosom, and wept bitterly, and Erasmus said tearfully:
"I shall miss thee little Hans," for so he always
called the big sturdy fellow, "coming in with thy
jests and nonsense."
"And I,' sobbed Hans, "your grave words and
good counsel. But for you I must have been a ne'er-
do-weel indeed. Now I feel there is still some good-
in me."
"There is much," said Erasmus. "Go, improve
thy talents little Hans, so that when perchance as an
old man, or a young one still, or one of middle age,
or however it may be, as in your pictures, death shall


come, and taking thee by the hand, to lead thee to
thy rest, thy Lord will say, Well done, faithful ser-
vant.' Go now, courage, and let me have news of
And so, cheering up a bit as he trudged along,
Hans Holbein set out. He had not got a league from
Basel before he felt very thirsty, and changed his
florin at a roadside ale-house. After that, lending a
hand with a timber-laden barge, he got a free lift down
the Rhine to Strasburg. There he met an old crony
who was now settled, or rather unsettled, in the city,
with a wife of the same pattern as Mrs. Hans. The
two dined together, and as the crony (who had less
coin in his pockets than even Hans had, and who,
five days out of the week's seven, usually dined off
the smell of other people's dinners, as it was wafted
through the doors about which he happened to be
idling) had an excellent appetite, Hans paid for both
their dinners, and that quite cleared his pockets.
The thing now was, where was Hans to find a
night's lodging The crony said something about his
sleeping at his house, though not very much, and Hans
politely thanked him, but said he had rather not, and
that there was nothing he more enjoyed than walking
about all night in the open air; but he forgot the time
of year for the moment when he spoke. It was quite
the early spring; and when night came on he was glad
to creep away into the porch of the cathedral, and


began to wish himself back again in Basel for all its
However, the martins in the fretted stonework over-
head chirruped cheerily when he awoke and stretched
himself, for he was as stiff as a piece of cardboard.
Have a good heart, little Hans; have a good heart,"
they seemed to say; and he took a turn or two in the
cathedral close, while he thought what must be done
next, when whom should he run full tilt against but
the crony again.
Well," said he, when Hans told him his trouble,
"if I had your brains and fingers, I shouldn't be long
like I am. See now, one good turn deserves another.
That was a nice dinner we had yesterday. I shouldn't
mind another like it again to-day; but that's neither
here nor there."
"No indeed it isn't," said Hans ruefully. "Nor
breakfast neither. And I'm at my wits' end what to
be doing."
"I'll tell you," said the crony. "You see yon-
der house across the close. Well, it's inhabited by
Brusch, the great portrait-painter. You've heard of
"It's not his fault if I haven't," laughed Hans. "Go
on. Yes, I've heard of Erusch."
"Well, he's got an order to paint the portraits of
all the big-wigs in Strasbourg."
"Is it a large family asked Hans.


"Thunder-weather! how dull you are!" said the
crony impatiently. "I mean the great guns."
"You said big-wigs just now."
"The town-council man," shouted the crony.
"Every man jack of them, from the mayor down-
wards. No end of a job. There's such a deal of
flesh-tint to work in, and Brusch is tired out; but
he's afraid to give any of it to do to a nobody, for
fear it might be bungled, and then there'd be a pretty
kettle of fish; but if you tell him who you are, he
might give you a turn at it."
"Thanks!" said Hans; "I'll try anyhow;" and
across the road he went, and knocked at the great
portrait-painter's door.
"What do you want?" said Brusch, who happened
to be coming out, and opened the door himself.
"A job of work so please you, if you could employ
ire," said Hans, cap in hand.
"What's your name?"
"If 'twere as big as yours and as well paid for," said
Hans in wheedling tones, "I might be glad to tell it."
"Well, come, that's modest at all events," said
Brusch, not ill-pleased. "Where do you come from?"
"Ah! Then you have seen the great painter, Hans
Holbein? Know him 1- '"
"A little," said Hans. "I've learnt a few things-
from him now and again."


"A pupil of his said Brusch with growing polite-
"N-no. Not precisely a pupil."
Ah, well! I like people to be candid. If you were
not his pupil, you weren't; but I daresay you've
picked up something worth knowing from him. Come
in a moment,". and Brusch led Hans into his studio.
"You see this person," he said, stopping before the
half-finished portrait of a portly old gentleman, clad
in a scarlet gold-embroidered gown."
"Yes," said Hans, for the portrait was as large as
"That's our burgomaster. You see his nose?"
"Yes," said Hans, for it looked a trifle larger than
life. "Isn't it rather a big one?"
"There it is now!" said Brusch. "That's what
it's owner says, and mightily annoyed he is about it;
and I've painted it out and in, and in and out, till
there'll be a hole in the canvas soon. See what you
can make of it."
"But I don't know the real nose," objected Hans,
taking up the palette, and setting to work neverthe-
"Oh, it's just a plain nose! Ah, you're hitting it!"
Brusch cried admiringly. "Bless my soul! and to
think how I've hammered and hammered! Go on, go
on! So, yes. Don't overdo the vermilion."
"Wait a bit," said Hans, looking over his colours.


"I don't like to be hurried. You were going out,
weren't you?"
"Yes. There's a feast at the town-hall, and I'm
one of the distinguished guests."
"Then, pray go," for Brusch was fidgeting about
in a distracting manner. "I'll finish it off all right."
"You're a clever fellow, and I should like to engage
you. What will you take?" said Brusch.
"All you'll give me," said Hans. "But I prefer to
work by the piece. Pay me for this nose, and then
there'll be an end of it."
"And after that we'll strike a fresh bargain. Yes?"
"You can talk about that to-morrow. Pay me for
this, and I'll astonish you with it. Oh, never fear, I
won't leave it till I've done it. Trust me."
"Good!" said Brusch, and taking out his purse
he laid down a gold piece. "But remember I'm not
going on paying at that rate," he added. "I don't
mind telling you however that a great deal depends
on that nose; and I shall enjoy the entertainment
much better for having the weight of it off my mind.
Farewell, till we meet again!"
"Till we meet again," replied Hans, painting on
Sindustriously, and away went Master Brusch.
Just about sundown he returned in high good-
humour, having enjoyed himself very much.
"I wonder whether that clever fellow is still at his
work!" he said, looking in at his studio door; but all


was still. "Ah, ha!" he went on, as the red sun-rays
streamed in full on the burgomaster's portrait, with
its finished nose. "Upon my word it is perfection.
Come off there! dragging your ugly black legs all over
the wet colour!" and he took out his handkerchief
and carefully flicked at a great blue-bottle fly which
had settled on the tip of the burgomaster's nose.
"Come, off with you I say!"
But the blue-bottle did not budge. In fact it was
not a blue-bottle at all; only an exqvisitely-painted
picture of one.
For a long time Master Brusch stood lost in astonish-
ment; and hardly knew whether to be in a tremendous
rage, or lose his wits with delight and admiration of
such wonderful work.
"I hear it buzz-buzz; surely I do!" he said, listening.
"Oh, you villain, you rogue!" he cried, rushing out
into the street, "only let me catch you!" and he
seized the first person he met by the throat. It hap-
pened to be the crony.
"Come, come, Master Brusch! Do you want to
strangle me?" he gurgled out. "Hands off! What's
the matter?"
"I'm sure I beg your pardon," said Brusch. "It
isn't you I want. It's that rascal-that conjuror,
magician-journeyman painting fellow, who came ask-
ing for work this afternoon at my door. What the
mischief has become of him?"


"Ha, ha!" laughed the crony.
"What are you laughing at, you idiot? You know
where he's gone."
To be sure I do. Miles off on his way to England.
Didn't I drink a good journey to him in a parting
bumper that he paid for out of his earnings! And
sorry I am he's gone; for we don't get such fellows
hereabouts every day of the week as Hans."
"Hans! Hans what?"
"Hans Holbein to be sure. Didn't you know?"
"Hans Holbein!" gasped Brusch. "I might have
guessed it!"



TERY much after the fashion in which Hans found
Shis way from Basel to Strasburg, he made it to
Rotterdam, where he had a message to deliver from
Dr. Erasmus to an old friend, who received Hans very
kindly, and showed him all over the curious town,
with its canals crowded with boats and shipping,
whose masts towered like bare trees above the tall
pointed house-roofs. What still more interested Hans
was the house where his dear friend Erasmus was born.
He made two sketches of it; one for himself, and


one to give to Sir Thomas More along with the por-
trait which Erasmus had intrusted to him for the
great lord chancellor. Then he bade farewell to his
hospitable entertainer, who obtained for him a passage
free to England in a trading vessel.
The sea was very rough all the way; and Hans was
not sorry when the little ship reached the smooth
broad reaches of the Thames.' The flat marshland
on either side seemed to him as if it was just a piece
more of the country he had left a day or two before;
and Hans, who loved beautiful country, and had heard
so much about the loveliness of the Thames banks,
was very much disappointed, and said so to the captain
of the ship, who only smiled and replied, "Wait till
you are higher up." And Hans waited, only seeing
very slow improvement; but when he came in sight
of Greenwich, he forgot for a while about the banks
in his admiration of a large handsome building stand-
ing near the water, surrounded with fair gardens and
terraces, which were crowded with persons who,
as well as he could see from the river, were richly
attired. They were going up and down great flights
of marble steps, where they landed from the gaily-
painted pleasure-boats, and sounds of music floated
across the water.
"That is a fine place," said Hans, cheering up.
"What is it?"
"The king's palace of Greenwich," said the captain.


"It is his favourite pleasure-palace; though some say
he would really prefer Hampton Court; which how-
ever, is not his, but my lord Cardinal Wolsey's. If
that is so, it is the old tale, and his majesty is no
better than the rest of us, who always covet what is
not ours, and the king-but stay-" said the captain,
interrupting himself, and looking as if he would like
to recall his last words, lest the mischievous breeze
might have wafted them too far. "You are in luck, for
here comes his gracious majesty. And still in greater
luck," excitedly went on the captain, as a richly-gilded
barge, rowed by twelve rowers clad in scarlet and
gold, glided swiftly along the sunlit water, "for see,
he hath the queen beside him, fair Mistress Anne."
"I thought the English queen's name had been
Katherine," said Hans, taking off his cap, as all the
crew did, as the barge glided past a little distance
"That shows you must have come out of the ark
for the Dutchman you are," laughed the captain.
"Katherine was his wife; but that was seven weeks
ago, for Anne has been queen so long. See how he
whispers in her ear and smiles!"
She is very fair," said Hans admiringly. But
tell me, when did Queen Katherine die?"
Ah, she is not precisely dead."
"Not dead! But-"
"Oh, plague seize thy foolish questions! Hurrah,


hurrah! Off with thy cap again sirrah! Hurrah!
God save the queen!"
"Why, so say I-God save her of course!" slowly
said Hans, still looking mystified, and inwardly won-
dering which queen the man meant, or whether it was
both. Then he sat down on a heap of cargo, and was as
silent as a log, till suddenly his wide-open eyes caught
sight of a gray-walled moated building surrounded
with massive walls. "Thunder-weather!" he cried,
"what is that?"
"The Tower," replied the captain.
"Tower! Why, there are four towers if I can
"All the same 'tis called the Tower, and has been
since Julius Caesar set up the first of 'em."
"Is it another palace?"
'Tis what you please to call it," said the captain,
who had enough to do to keep his ship clear of all the
craft crowding the river. Some folks hold it a less
pleasant one than Greenwich; but it accommodates
many of his majesty's friends from time to time."
"But," once more began the inquisitive Hans.
Ah! a truce to your questions friend, for here we
are at London Bridge, and go no further."
"Is this Chelsea then?" shouted Hans, half-
deafened by the noise of the river rushing beneath
the arches, and the shouts of the boatmen as they
steered safe of the whirling water.


"Save you no!" shouted back the captain; "but
I will set you on your way thither. Hi!" he called,
beckoning to a small boat moored by the stairs of the
bridge. "Here is a fare for you friend," he went on
as the boatman rowed up alongside. This gentleman
is for my lord Chancellor's at Chelsea; and see you
conduct him and his luggage thither safely; for you
never rowed more valuable freight." The boatman
touched his cap respectfully.
"Fare-you-well," said Hans as he jumped into the
boat with his wallet, and his pictures tied carefully up
in a cloth, and a thousand thanks for your kind-
ness !"
Good luck to you!" said the skipper, waving his
hand. Yo ho! aloft there!" and he turned away.
"Have you all your luggage ?" asked the boatman,
eyeing Hans' little wallet.
"For the moment, yes," replied Hans; "the rest is
to follow." And away went the boat on its way to
Chelsea, where the boatman was to land him at the
water stairs fronting the avenue.
Hans' senses for the next few moments were entirely
absorbed in wondering how he should ever come alive
to the other side of the arches of the bridge; the whirl
of water through them and the uproar were so over-
whelming. When however, he was at last able to
look round him, he was lost in admiration of all the
beautiful houses and churches covering the river


banks. They were too many and close together to
ask questions about; but the boatman pointed out to
him the long row of buildings composing the palace
of Whitehall, which but lately he said, had belonged
to my lord Cardinal Wolsey, who had made a present
of it to the king. Then across the water he showed
him the red walls of Lambeth, and so the houses grew
fewer and farther between, with here and there a mill
or a farm standing in the midst of the meadows. Then,
passing the herb gardens of Battersea, a turn of the
river brought the boat in sight of one of the goodliest
pictures Hans thought he had ever seen in all his life.
" There is where you are bound for," said the boat-
man, "my lord chancellor, Sir Thomas More's house."
But he needed scarcely to say that for Hans to re-
cognize it. How many a time Dr. Erasmus had
described it to him! and there, good sooth, it stood
just as he had said: "Neither mean nor subject to envy,
yet commodious and magnificent enough;" with its spa-
cious garden, and long raised terraces, and goodly out-
buildings, of which a portion made the chapel, and all
partially screened by an avenue reaching from the
main door to the river's brink, where a flight of broad
steps, washed by the clear lapping water, offered a
"It looks restful," thought the weary traveller to
himself, as the boat glided up alongside the steps.
" Had I my choice given me, I think I had liefer spend


my days here than at gay Greenwich. How soft and
fresh-looking lies the sward under the blue sky, with
the broad shadows of the .mighty trees fringing the
margin of the stream, where those stately fellows, the
swans glide as if they were lords of the demesne!
See how close they come!" smiled Hans, as the birds,
arching their long slender necks, sailed up round the
very bows of the boat.
"Ay, they are of my lord's large family of dumb
creatures," said the boatman; "whom his own hand
loves to feed; and they are no doubt bidding your
worship welcome."
"Hark!" said Hans, as through the calm evening
air came the chime of a sweet-toned bell.
"That is the chapel bell. It is the hour of even-
song with the family," said the boatman, and all
who list may join in it. 'Tis but a prayer, and a psalm,
or a chapter, and lasts but a short time. Shall I
carry your luggage to the house ?"
SNay; thanks!" said Hans; "it is not heavy, and I
can find my way alone."
"Thank your honour! long life to your honour!"
said the boatman, pocketing his fare, which Hans paid
him out of the last change of his gold piece.




W HEN Hans knocked at the door he saw facing
him at the end of the avenue, it was opened
by a gray-haired servitor, who desired him to enter
and wait a little while till his master should be in.
Very soon the door opened and a gentleman entered,
closely followed by a huge black-and-white mastiff dog,
who looked at him and sniffed a little, then looked at
his master, who said: "It is all right, good Roland,"
upon which the dog couched with his nose on his
outstretched paws.
As to Roland's master, Hans thought he had never
beheld a nobler looking man. His slightly bent and
fragile figure was clad in a rich but sober gown of
black velvet, and a small velvet cap of the same
material covered the long silvery hair which shaded
a grave thoughtful face full of benevolence. He
looked inquiringly at Hans, who, after his usual
fashion, had not given his name, but had said he was
from Holland, and desired to see Sir Thomas on
important business. Now Sir Thomas thought it was
late that day for business, for he looked upon the
close of day as the time for a little rest and recrea-
tion. Nevertheless he never permitted anyone to be


sent from his door without first learning what they
wanted of him.
If you have business with Sir Thomas More, I am
he," he said.
"I bring you this," said Hans, putting on his best
manners, which were good enough to pass anywhere,
and only wanted a little more using to make them
better still; then he placed the letter he had brought
from Erasmus in the hands of Sir Thomas, who cried
in glad tones: "From Erasmus! And how fares my
old friend ?" he asked as he hastily broke the seal of
his letter and opened it.
Well, sir, when we parted five days ago-" replied
"'The bearer of this,' read out Sir Thomas, 'is my
dear friend Hans Holbein.' Why then indeed," said
Sir Thomas, stretching out his hand, and warmly
clasping Holbein's, "not alone for my friend's sake,
but for your own are you right welcome, for your
fame has long preceded you to England. But to
my letter, 'I pray you of your courtesy bestow on him
your countenance.' Ay, gladly," smiled Sir Thomas
with a merry twinkle in his eye. But you are loaded
Master Holbein," he went on, observing a square
package Hans kept tightly tucked under his arm.
" Set down your burden."
"'Tis Dr. Erasmus' countenance he desires to
bestow on you," said Hans, removing the swathings
(427) D


of the package; "and I was not to rest till I had
delivered it to you, and asked you if you think it a
good counterfeit?" Then he set the portrait against a
chair back.
Sir Thomas started with surprise as he looked at it,
and his eyes shone with tears which nearly brimmed
over. Truly it seems hardly a counterfeit at all,"
he said; but as if in a moment Erasmus must speak
to me. And who is the painter of this wondrous
work ?"
"I, so please you," said Hans, looking mightily
pleased himself, for such praise from such a man was
praise indeed.
"Then, indeed, for all that has been told me of
your skill by travellers, it is short of the deserving.
But come, we will go to supper, for if you have
travelled so straight, you have had but pilgrim's fare,
and must be tired and hungry. As it falls out, I am
alone to-night," continued Sir Thomas, as he led the
way to an inner chamber, where a small but bright
fire burned on the hearth, and shone cheerily on a
table laid with a goodly array of silver platters and
goblets of Venice glass, "for my daughter and her
husband Roper, sup with friends at Battersea; and
the rest are scattered. Oh! I cry you mercy!" smiled
Sir Thomas, as Hans' eyes fell on a matronly-looking
tabby-cat perched, gravely expectant, on the arm of
Sir Thomas' huge tall-backed chair at the head of


the table. "The company of my four-footed friends'
never fails me, and I must make them known to you;
since if I can read faces, you love 'dumb beasts' as it
is the fashion to call them. And since ladies come first,
this is Madam Hika Pikra;" and as Sir Thomas took
his place, he stroked the glossy back of the cat, who
rose politely in response, twisted her sleek body about
a bit, flourished her tail, and sat down again more
solemnly expectant than before. "And this," he went
on, turning to the dog seated on his haunches beside
him, and who lovingly licked the slender hand, "is
Roland, my brave Roland, grim and a trifle sour
perhaps, to those who love not him or his master; but
to his master's friends, an amiable and courtly gentle-
man. I bid you cultivate his acquaintance, for it is
most profitable. And now, fall to, Master Holbein."
Then he said a brief grace in Latin, which Hans'
learning did not quite stretch to understanding word
for word, but which was uttered with such simple
reverence, that it made him feel more grateful for
Heaven's good gifts than ever he had done in his life.
"And does England strike you favourably?" said
Sir Thomas, after a brief silence spent by' him in
dissecting a fine sturgeon stuffed with parsley, for
which Hans found an excellent appetite; the little
you have seen of it," he added.
"It was little enough through the fog and mists,"
replied truthful Hans, "till the sun came out brightly


just as we neared Greenwich, where the king's palace
is. It looked gay enough there."
"Ah!" said Sir Thomas; "yes, Greenwich is a fair
place. I used greatly to enjoy myself when I visited
"Do you not do so now?" asked Hans.
"For these three months past, I have not been
there," replied Sir Thomas.
"But to the Tower-" began Hans, airing his newly-
acquired knowledge.
"Save you man! "smiled Sir Thomas. "The Tower
is but little of a pleasure-palace now; if ever it were,
which I can hardly imagine; but since Richard of
Gloucester caused his two young innocent nephews to
be murdered there, their ghosts are said to haunt its
passages, and the place is fallen into deeper ill-repute
than ever. For my part, I would never dwell in the
Tower of my own free will and pleasure."
"But when you visit his majesty, as you must so
frequently do-"
"Not frequently. Only when my duty to his
majesty demands it.. Then I repair to Whitehall at
Westminster. Or by preference, and the king permits,
to Bridewell, near the Black Friars."
."And the queen? Do you see her?"
"The queen is at Kimbolton, and sees no one."
"You mistake," said Hans. "She is at Greenwich.
The skipper of the boat I came in, pointed her out to


me this morning, seated in the royal barge by Henry's
"It is you who mistake friend," coldly said Sir
Thomas. "It was Mistress Anne Bullen you saw.
The queen, I tell you-Katherine of Arragon-lies
sick of a breaking heart a hundred miles away.
Enough.- Foul befall your ill-breeding, madam!
Dabbing your velvet paw into the platter," laughingly
chided Sir Thomas to the cat, who was impatiently
waiting for the plate her master was heaping with
remains of fish; and detained beyond reasonable time,
thus reminded him. "Are these your company man-
ners? If you can comport yourself no better than
that, you shall go to supper with Poke and Snatch in
the scullery."
"Poke and Snatch!" said Hans.
"A pet weasel and ferret, who are excellent fellows,
but keep a separate table. Ah, so! Have you found
your good manners again?" went on the master with
a smile of amusement, as he set down the Jlate on a
mat near, and the cat and the mastiff fell to at it.
"Well, keep your own side, and Roland is to be
trusted for keeping his. I was saying Master Hans,"
went on Sir Thomas, when Hans had watched with
amused eyes the contents of the platter fairly cleared,
that since Dr. Erasmus and I took our sweet counsel
together under the trees of yonder garden," and he
pointed through the half-open lattice to the terraces


and shady walks bathed in the last rays of the setting
sun, "time's changes have been at work; but we do
not all change with time; and my quiet old home here
is dearer to me than ever."
"It may well be so," said Hans.
"But we will talk no more. You shall to bed; for
you can but have slept poorly in the rough cradle of
the sea. There is a bed-chamber that stands always
in readiness for my chance guests. My servant shall
light you to it."
"I am greatly beholden to you-" began Hans.
"Nay, you are my friend's ambassador; and if you
owe me any debt of entertainment, we will discuss
its payment to-morrow, when you are rested and re-
freshed. Good-night, and dreamless sleep-or if
dreams must come, may they be fair ones."
And so Hans and his kind host parted for the night.



H ANS' dreams might well be fair, if they were pro-
phetical; for that day was but the beginning of
many prosperous and happy ones. Not only for the
next day or the next upon that, lie remained the guest


of Sir Thomas More, but for nearly three years he lived
under his roof as one of his kind host's own family.
All the clever and high-born people who visited the
chancellor made much of him, and Hans was as happy
as the day was long in that peaceful well-ordered
He painted a great many portraits during that time,
not only of Sir Thomas himself, and of fair Mistress
Margaret Roper, his married daughter, whom Sir
Thomas so fondly loved, and of his grandchildren,
but also of many of the chancellor's friends.
With so much to do, it may well be imagined that
he never found time now to lounge about with his
hands in his pockets, as in the old days; and as for the
pockets which once were half their time empty, they
were now full, for he was paid the prices for his
beautiful pictures which they so richly deserved, prices
which would have made Master Brusch of Strasburg
open his eyes.
Hans often privately wondered to himself how it
was that he had been so foolish as to delay for so long
coming to England. It was certainly nobody's fault
but his own; and one day, in the fulness of his heart's
gratitude to Sir Thomas More, he told him how he
now blamed himself; and then he went on to tell
him of that English gentleman who was visiting Dr.
Erasmus at Basel, and advised him to try his fortune
in England.


"And who was he?" asked Mistress Roper, who
was sitting by at her tapestry frame. "What was
his name?"
"Nay. That I cannot for the life of me remember,"
replied Hans; "for I am dull at names, especially
foreign ones; and as I tell you, he was an English-
"Oh!" smiled Sir Thomas. "You have grown into
such an Englishman that you should no longer call
Englishmen foreigners. But I wonder who it could
have been?"
"He was a nobleman-that I remember," said
Hans, "the more that he looked like one; which is
not always the case."
"Now we come nearer," said .Sir Thomas. "Was
he young or old, or middle-aged-or how ?"
"Young; and of the goodliest face and figure I
ever beheld."
"But we have many handsome young noblemen,"
said Sir Thomas.
"Stay!" said Hans. "Give me till to-morrow, and
perhaps I may be able to show you his likeness."
And the next day, at the same hour, Hans set before
them a hastily-drawn sketch, but well coloured, of the
nobleman's face. "It was easy enough, when I tried,"
he said, "for I never forgot his face, any more than I
really did his words."
"That is my Lord of Surrey!" cried Sir Thomas and


Mistress Roper both in a breath; "and done as if he
had been all the time before you."
"Or you had cut a hole in the canvas and set his
face in it," said Mistress Roper delightedly.
"Surrey-yes. That was his name," said Hans.
"What a stupid head mine is and for its dulness, he
cudgelled it well with his fist. "Do you chance to
know him ?"
"Ay, truly," replied Sir Thomas. "VWho does not?
The flower of the court. Scholar-poet-and, above
all, a chivalrous gentleman. He is the son of his
grace of Norfolk, whom you have already seen in this
house. Surrey would have been here himself but that
he is in Ireland."
"I should rarely like to see him again," said Hans
"And in the meantime, I will next Sunday invite
the Duke of Norfolk to dine with me; and after
dinner he shall tell us whose face this is. It will not
take all his wisdom to know his own son."
Accordingly with Sunday came the Duke of Norfolk.
He arrived just in time for service, which on Sundays
the chancellor and all his family attended in Chelsea
Church. Very often Sir Thomas himself took part in
the service; and the duke was astonished on entering
the church, to see Sir Thomas with a surplice on,
singing in the choir.
"Odd's bodikins my lord chancellor!" said the duke


when service was over, and they returned together to
the house. "What! a parish clerk-a parish clerk!
You dishonour the king and his office!"
"Nay," said Sir Thomas; "you may not think your
master and mine will be offended with me for serving
God, his master, or thereby count his office dis-
And so they went to dinner. Have you news of
your son of late?" asked Sir Thomas when the cloth
was withdrawn.
"Ay," sighed the duke, "fair news enough; hut I
weary to see his face again, and to hear the music of
his voice."
"Sigh not so heavily my lord duke," said Sir
Thomas, with the twinkle in his eyes that made his
face so good to look upon; "for though I cannot glad
your ears with the music of his voice, I can comfort
your eyes with something that will remind you of his
face-that is, if your eyes see like.mine."
Then with his own hands he drew aside the cover-
ing he had thrown over Hans' sketch. The duke started
from his seat with astonishment and delight. "A sight
indeed, for sore eyes! My gallant Surrey!" he said.
"Where is the man who has done this?"
"At your elbow," smiled Sir Thomas. "This is
Master Hans Holbein the painter."
"What shall I say to you, but that I thank you
heartily!" said the duke, clasping Hans by the hand.


"But you are no new acquaintance, let me tell you;
for often my son has told me the merry tale of the
Bookworm and the Ale-drinking Fellow."
But Hans did not look at all merry at this reminder.
"That is long ago," he said; "and bygones-"
"Shall be bygones," said the duke. "Well, well,
since you prefer it. But my lord chancellor," he went
on, turning to Sir Thomas, "if you be not careful, we
shall have you led to the block for high treason."
"The saints forbid!" smiled Sir Thomas. "How
so? What is the colour of my offence?"
"Colour forsooth! All colours. That you keep
such treasure as this master of painting, boxed away
in your retreat of Chelsea here, like a miser keeps his
"Why, truly I am not altogether unattainted of the
accusation, my lord marshal; but in inviting your
grace here to-day, I looked to wiping off some part of
it. Master Holbein should indeed no longer spend
his gifts in limited service like mine and my friends'.
Their fragrance should be wafted to court, and reach
the senses of the king. But you know I am just now
in less favour with his majesty than once I may have
"Tut!" impatiently said the duke. "And whose
fault but your own is that? You are proud my lord
chancellor; and pride-"
"Goeth before a fall."


"Nay, the king is too wise not to know when he is
faithfully served. It was Wolsey's greed of wealth
that ruined him. You are not greedy enough. I have
heard Henry's own lips say so-though I'll warrant
he'd be of another mind, if he knew of the talents you
keep rolled in a napkin here."
"They are at his majesty's disposal," replied More.
"What say you Master Hans? Will you be presented
at court, as my lord of Norfolk desires?"
"Or what if we brought the king here?" said the
duke, marking the pleasure sparkling in Hans' eyes.
"Why, better still, if he will come," said Sir Thomas.
"Oh, he will come," said the duke. "For Henry
loves an outing, as truly as any London 'prentice loves
a holiday."



T HE duke was quite right when he said that the
king would come to Chelsea for the asking. He
accepted the invitation very graciously; "but," added
a little sourly, "it is some time since my lord chancellor
extended us his hospitality."
And with words of the same sort he also greeted
Sir Thomas when, with his accustomed modest state,


he received him at the water stairs at the end of the
great avenue.
"Your majesty's time has been otherwise em-
ployed," replied Sir Thomas. "And I know only,
since the king is pleased once more to visit my poor
house, that it rejoices me and mine to bid your ma-
jesty a hearty welcome."
"As well it rejoices mine to accept it," said the
king, throwing his arm affectionately round his host's
neck, as they advanced along the avenue to the sound
of sweet music, played by unseen musicians amid the
trees. "I know not how it is," he went on; "but I
go to no house whose ordering so pleases me and
cheers my heart as yours, my good lord chancellor.
One hears no quarrelling or intemperate words here."
"Why, no," smiled Sir Thomas. "Why should
there be?"
"Each performs his duty, yet there is always alac-
rity; and for sober mirth, it is never wanting."
"I trust not, for 'tis said, 'all work and no play
makes Jack a dull boy,'" merrily smiled Sir Thomas.
Content seems to dwell in the very air," continued
Henry; "and on my faith I believe in your trees here,
the birds sing sweeter than in others."
"Truly they sing sweetly," said Sir Thomas, listen-
ing through the momentary silence to the merry bird
"And there is such passing affection and glee in the


eyes of these four-footed creatures it is your pleasure
to have always about your heels. How is it?" sighed
"Nay, should we not all try to make each other and
ourselves as happy as this changing world permits?"
"Oh, Utopia! Utopia!" laughed the king slyly.
"If it be not here at Chelsea, then in sooth it is
Once Sir Thomas More had written a book, in which
he had striven to draw the picture of a kingdom where
all was so well and justly governed, that nobody had
cause to complain, and he called his book from two
Greek words, Ou-Topos--"Nowhere."
"But what have we here?" went on the king as
now they stood together on the threshold of the great
hall, where the board was ready spread for dinner,
and upon whose walls Sir Thomas had caused to be
arranged, just facing the king's seat at table, all the
pictures which Hans had painted of himself and his
family. "Gra'mercy! What goodly company is
this ?"
"One which I have convened to wish your majesty
good appetite, and health on it," said Sir Thomas, well
pleased at Henry's evident delight and astonishment.
"Will it please you to eat?"
And without the help of his eyes, which were all on
the pictures, the king sank into his chair; and though
his journey up river had furnished him when he


arrived, with an excellent appetite, he kept forgetting
to eat, in his admiration of the pictures.
"You do not eat," expostulated his host, rising to
pour wine into the king's cup.
"Oh, truly, I am dining too well," courteously re-
joined the king. "But-so, bravely!" he went on as
Sir Thomas poured out the wine. "Brim it to the full
my lord chancellor, that I may in a bumper pledge
your health and that of this your family I see before
me," and he pointed to the pictures. "Fair Mistress
Roper, truly I think your sweet lips must open and
speak to me as I look! and you, my lord-chancellor,
I know not whether you have walked down from the
frame, or walked up into it! And your brave little
grandson there, astride his hobby-horse! Faith, we
feel as if we must kiss his chubby cheeks! Who is
the creator of such glorious work? What is the
painter's namely Is he living"
"In great hope," replied Sir Thomas, "that your
majesty will approve his pictures."
"By my crown, his hope is a certainty! Is he to
be had for money ."
"Why indeed, he loves money as well as many a
worse and better man does, I trow," said Sir Thomas.
"Where is he?"
"Close at hand. And when your majesty has dined,
I will present him to you."
"Despatch then!" interrupted the king, almost


forgetting his courtesy in his impatience. And as
quickly as possible the rest of the banquet was served;
and then Sir Thomas left the hall a moment, to re-
enter, leading Hans by the hand. "Here," he said,
"is the painter of the pictures which your majesty so
well approves, Master Hans Holbein of Basel."
"Nay," said the king, raising Hans as he dropped
on one knee before him. "Not at our feet, but in
our service Hans Holbein. What say you?"
But for the excitement and fluster he was in, Hans
could for the moment say nothing at all.
"Well?" said Henry impatiently; "you hesitate."
"No I don't," blurted out Hans in his hurry. But
for all that he did, in his mindfulness of Sir Thomas
More's many kindnesses and benefits, and his regrets
to think that this great new honour would take him
away from the happy home at Chelsea. "No, I don't
hesitate, my lord-your worship-your highness--
your majesty," floundered on poor Hans; "but -
"The workman is worthy of his wage. Well, we
are coming to it."
"I wasn't thinking of that," protested Hans.
"But we were," laughed the king. "Come, what
say you? Painter in chief and ordinary to the king,
and two hundred florins a year?"
And two hundred florins was a large sum in those


"Is it a bargain?" said the king, taking Hans by
the hand.
"It is an honour," replied courtly Hans, "beyond
my best dreamings"
"But equal only to his merits," thought Sir Thomas,
who was greatly pleased with the success of the plan.
'' He owes his good fortune to my lord of Norfolk.
Right glad I am," he went on to his son-in-law Master
Roper, as they walked together on the terrace in the
cool of the evening, after the king was gone. "Right
glad I am our Hans is in his right place at last, for if
anything should take me hence, he would have been
cast on the waves of an unkind world and he is less
skilful at the rudder of life, than he is with his graver
and brush. But if the king--God save him!--is
changeful in some matters, he abides by his favourites
in such matters as art and letters."
"As he does in your judgment of them," said Roper
proudly, "and of all else. The king to-day treated
you with such familiarity, with his arm about your.
neck, as he never before used but with Cardinal
Wolsey, with whom I once saw him linked arm-in-arm."
Sir Thomas smiled. "I believe his grace does as
sincerely love me as any subject within this realm;
but for his arm about my neck, I count that none the
(427) E


"How?" said Master Roper.
I may tell thee son Roper, I have no cause to be
proud thereof; for if my head would win the king a
castle in France, it would not fail to go off the neck
he has embraced!"



H OW truly Sir Thomas More judged the character
of the king was only too quickly proved. Little
more than a year after Hans Holbein left the roof of
his first good friend in England, the chancellor was
arrested and placed in the Tower on a charge of high
treason; and shortly after he was beheaded on Tower
Hill, whose stones were for ever reeking with the
noble blood spilt by tyrannical kings. The accusation
against him was that he refused to acknowledge the
rights of Anne Bullen's daughter, Elizabeth, as King
Henry's successor to the crown of England, while
Mary, the child of Queen Katherine of Arragon, was
living. So unreasoning and violent was Henry that a
year after Sir Thomas' head had fallen, on that self-


same Tower Hill, the poor young mother of the child
Elizabeth was executed, and the day after her death
Henry married a third wife, Jane Seymour, who
became the mother of King Edward the Sixth, and
he, after all, was the king's successor.
But death was making sad havoc with Hans' friends.
Happy in his work as he was, and loaded with atten-
tions and favours from the king and the court, he was
often sad at heart, for thinking how agreeable soever
the new friends were, they could not replace the old
ones. One of the cruellest blows was the death of
that oldest friend of all, Erasmus. Hans never saw
him again in this world. He died peacefully, drawn
gently away in the midst of his work, by the hand of
death, at about the same time that his good friend
Sir Thomas More was felled by the headsman's axe.
And so, almost side by side, Erasmus and Sir Thomas
More entered into rest, and their works live after
them. In old Rotterdam stands the statue of the
learned scholar Erasmus, reminding the world of one
of its great men whose labours made his "life sublime."
In a corner of quaint little old Chelsea church, half
crowded out of sight by ugly pews, stands the monu-
ment of the good Lord Chancellor More, surmounted
by his effigy. There in his long gown and ruff he
lies, and upon his tomb should have been graven for


epitaph, the fulfilled wish that Shakespeare makes
Wolsey measure to him:
That his bones,
When he has run his course, and sleeps in blessings,
May have a tomb of orphans' tears wept on them."

And so in the old way, amid laughter and tears,
sad hearts and blithe ones, time ran on for Hans.
He lived now principally at Whitehall, which having
once been a palace of the luxurious Cardinal Wolsey,
was now a favourite residence of the king. It was very
large at that time. The royal apartments ran near
the river, and were surrounded by gardens, and tennis-
courts, and jousting-places, and bowling-greens; and
all round almost from Charing Cross to Westminster
were houses and dwellings for the court gentlemen
and ladies in attendance on the king and queen. The
greatest part of all this no longer remains.
Half-way along the road to Westminster, stood
Hans Holbein's famous gateway. The king ordered
him to draw a plan of it, and from this it was built.
It was a very large structure, with walls of red and
white brick set in zigzag and chess-board patterns,
and adorned with roses, and portcullises, and initials;
and other cognizances of the king, intertwined with
those of his queen of the moment. Of the moment,
one says, because poor Queen Anne Bullen's last mo-


ments were now very close at hand. She had been
his wife for three years; but Henry, when he wanted
what he called "a reason" for a change, was never
long in coming on an excuse; and he soon found one
in Anne's case, and having had her put to death, he
married Jane Seymour, whom he loved after his own
particular fashion; though whether he would have
continued to do so, was of course quite another matter.
Fortunately for her, she died soon after her little son
Edward was born, before it could be put to the proof.
One would almost have imagined that after this,
Henry would'have had no more wives, but that was
not the case. He had heard of a lady living in Flanders
whom he thought might be suitable; and not un-
naturally wished first to see what she was like. So
Hans the painter was despatched to Flanders to paint
her portrait, but before he had finished it, there was
another change in Henry's mind; this time it was in
what he called his "religion." He had once opposed
the famous reformer, Luther, but now he was deter-
mined to encourage the work of the Reformation which
was spreading fast, and as the Duchess of Milan be-
longed to the Church of Rome, he gave up the idea of
marrying her, and ordered Hans to repair to Rhenish
Prussia to paint the portrait of the Princess Anne of
Cleves, who was a Protestant, and whom his new


minister, Thomas Cromwell, had recommended as a
wife for the king. Cromwell however, was thinking
much more of the use to the new form of religion the
king's marriage with Anne of Cleves would be, than
of whether her appearance would please Henry.
"What is the princess like?" said the king. "Has
she a goodly person?"
"I am but a poor judge of such matters," replied
Cromwell, who was an honest, but stern man.
"There is a saying," said Henry, "that no wise
person buys a pig in a poke, lest his bargain turn out
not to his liking."
The lady," said Cromwell, "is at Cleves; and is to
be seen doubtless for the asking."
"Ay, as she appears to be had for it," said Henry,
who seemed a little doubtful; "but kings cannot go
here and there wife-choosing, as Thumpkin chooses
apples at market. While we were going to Cleves, the
kingdom would be going all to sixes and sevens."
"True," said Cromwell thoughtfully; "and it is, as
your majesty observes, already pretty well at fives
and sixes."
Henry's brow knitted; he had said nothing of the
kind, and he objected to have words put into his
mouth; but he let it pass for the moment.
"But I see no difficulty in the matter," went on


Cromwell. "Send Master Holbein the painter to
draw the princess's portrait. He has had nothing to
do since he came back from Flanders but waste his
time, and rollick on his two hundred florins. I marked
him yesterday, spending the whole afternoon playing
tennis with half a score of other ne'er-do-wells, yonder
in the yard. Let him go to Cleves and paint the
princess; 'twill at least keep him out of mischief."
Alack! poor honest Thomas Cromwell knew not
what a peck of it that speech was brewing for himself.
How could, he dream that it would bring his head in
its turn to the scaffold, as it did! Meantime his sugges-
tion pleased the king mightily; and once more Hans
was despatched on his journeys.
Now it needs no repeating that Hans was won-
drously clever; but there is such a thing as being
too clever, and he was so in this case. When he
arrived at Cleves, and was brought into the presence
of the Princess Anne, he was taken aback, for though
he was too well mannered even to tell himself so, he
thought her one of the plainest women he had ever
seen. What was to be done? "Well," thought Hans,
"of course I have not to marry her; and it is not for
me to give an opinion. I am simply ordered to make
her picture, and it behoves me to make the best one I
can." And he set to work, and an excellent picture


he made. "A most charming one," all the princess's
courtly friends said. In short, with his gift for seeing
the better side of things, he just picked out and im-
proved upon what was best in her features; and
softened down the homelier parts, and made a very
pretty picture indeed of Anne of Cleves. She herself
was exceedingly satisfied with it; and when Hans
arrived at Whitehall once more, and set the portrait
before the king, Henry was quite delighted.
She will do," he said, "she will do. Let her be
sent at once."
And she was sent. But when Henry went to meet
her, and saw her in the flesh, of which she had a good
share, for from all accounts her face and figure were
as broad as they were long, he was in a great rage.
"She is as fat as a pig!" he cried. "Take her
And with little ceremony the poor lady was hurried
off into the country out of his sight; but having made
a sort of a bargain for her, and after all, bought his
"pig," as he called her, in a poke, she had to be kept
at the country's expense in England, and passed many
years comfortably, which perhaps she would not have
done had she been a little more comely, and so had
been made queen as Henry intended.
But that cleverness of Hans was the ruin of Crom-


well. The king was so furious with him for recom-
mending Anne of Cleves for his wife, that he deter-
mined to put an end to all his advice; and having
looked about, and scraped up a few other little causes
of blame, or what he considered causes, he had him
arrested and sent to the Tower; and in a few days
more the new prime-minister's life was sacrificed for
his cruel king's whims, as Sir Thomas More's had been.



W HITEHALL was a very busy bustling court,
full of all sorts of people. To begin with, it
did not want for fools; that is for professional fools,
or men who were called fools or jesters, and who were
sometimes wiser than other people, though all their
business was to make jokes and amuse the court.
There were three of those at one time: Will Somers,
and a very good, charitable-minded, kind-hearted man
he was; and Patch, who had once been jester-in-chief
to Cardinal Wolsey, but whom Wolsey made a present
of to the king, who had taken a fancy to some of his


quaint sayings. Then last, but by no means least,
was John Heywood. If he had lived in these days, he
would have been called a poet, for a poet he was, and
more of one by a great deal than many who call them-
selves, or are called so now. He was full of wit, and
quick fancies, and clever ideas, and as he was paid to
amuse the king, he was called a "fool." Then there
were a great many lords and ladies and idle people
about the court, who would have found it difficult to
turn their hands to anything that would have earned
a groat's worth of bread to keep them from starving,
but having plenty of money they enjoyed themselves
well enough, and served to make a show at a masque,
or a feast, or in a grand procession.
Among these was a certain Lord Jacko. Not to
be sure, that Jacko was his real name; but it had been
given him by his friends, because he was a very vain
affected fellow, whose vanity and affectation had
grown worse instead of being rubbed off by his travels
in France and Italy; and when he returned to England,
what with his apish antics and smart clothes, he re-
minded everybody of a dressed-up monkey, and so he
was nicknamed "Lord Jacko," or "the monkey who
had seen the world," for he bored everybody he came
near, with telling how much better everything was
managed in Paris or in Florence, till it was generally


wished he had remained in one or other of those
He did not seem to mind being called Lord Jacko,
perhaps because it sounded a little foreign; but if he
had minded, it would probably have been all the same,
for the name stuck to him and everybody called him
so, and therefore he must be called so in this true
Lord Jacko had never bestowed much of his notice
on Hans. Your Germans, and Dutchmen, and Swiss
were vulgar fellows, he said, who had none of the
"I-don't-know-what" air of the dear French and Italian
people; and Hans was still less conscious of Lord
Jacko's existence. His mind indeed, of late, was
occupied with very different matters. The death of
Cromwell had for one thing very greatly distressed
him, for, with all his fault-finding, Cromwell was a
sincere, honest friend to Hans, as he had been to
many. And then too, Hans lived in mortal terror
lest the king should punish him for painting Anne of
Cleves in colours she did not deserve; and a score of
times a day he used to wish himself safe back in
Basel, for all his love of England, and his luxurious
quarters at Whitehall. Had he dared, he would have
run away, but that might have raised the hue and cry
after him and put the king in mind of him, just when


his one desire was to be out of his majesty's remem-
brance. The wisest course certainly was to keep quiet;
and for a while hardly anything was to be seen of
Hans. People said he was busy, ill, sulky; and letting
them say what they pleased, he kept close as a snail
in its shell.
"Out of sight, out of mind," he said one day to the
Duke of Norfolk, who came to find out what really
had become of him, and found him hard at work
over a disc of ivory not much larger than a crown
"Why, that was well enough for a time," nodded
the cduke, "and perhaps you were wise. You are
safer than some people who flit round the throne like
a moth does round a candle. But what are you doing
there? Take aside your hand a moment, that I may
see. It is so small."
"Little and good I trust, my lord!" replied Hans,
doing as he was desired, and displaying a beautiful
little portrait of the king.
"H'm!" said the duke. "None so little-Henry
grows fatter every day; and for the goodness-why,
of course, 'the king can do no wrong,' that is well
known; but for your work here, it is indeed exquisite;
and when Henry sees it, your head will be safe enough,
for the skill you have shown in drawing his."


"It is but 'prentice work," said Hans. "I am
studying miniature painting under Luca Cornelli."
"I take it Signior Luca Cornelli would call it a
masterpiece, as I do," said the duke admiringly.
He says it is very well," said Hans. It is finished
"Ay, finished indeed. What do you intend doing
with it?"
"Begging your grate to accept it, an it pleases you."
"Right gratefully," replied the duke, delighted with
his beautiful present, and inwardly resolving to show
it to the king before he slept. "But take my advice
Master Holbein: crib yourself up no longer in this
dull room here. Believe me, the storm is all passed
over. The king's smiles shine everywhere just
'"And on your grace's family especially: is it not
so?" said Hans. "For his next wife is of your race."
"Yes. Poor thing!" said the duke. "She has your
prayers for her happiness I trust Master Holbein?"
"And long life-heartily," said Hans.
"Who shall say our star is not in the ascendant?"
went on the duke. "So be counselled my good
Master Holbein. Believe me, your error would be in
keeping longer out of sight. Only yesterday I heard
his majesty inquiring if you were indisposed."


"Why, truly, to show myself I have been-"
laughed Hans. "But I will valiantly come forth
"Do so; and fare you well!" said the duke.
Next day, true to his word, Hans showed himself
in the gardens, strolling about the river terrace; but
his heart almost jumped to his mouth when presently
he caught sight of the king approaching, attended by
a little crowd of ladies and gentlemen.
"Fair greeting to you Master Holbein!" said Henry
in his kindliest tones. "'Tis good to see you about
again. His grace of Norfolk tells me you have been
suffering from-from-"
"A nervous attack; yes, so please your majesty,"
hurriedly said Hans.
"But indeed we are sorry. And the aches and
pains of your poor head-"
"Nay; I was more in fear for that than for actually
feeling any. And it 'is all past now. Your majesty's
gracious smile is the best physic. I-I think it was
merely a little-little overwork."
"It was a great deal of it :Il.- r.:r Holbein," said
the king with a meaning look. "But be content. Do
not try it again. It is dangerous. Come, in with you!"
and playfully seizing Hans by the arm, he sent him
almost headlong into the barge moored at the bottom


of the water steps. "We are going to spend the day
at Hampton, and will not take a refusal from you to
be of our company."



EVER was merrier party; for besides the king's
guests, of whom one was Lord Jacko, Master
John Heywood, Will Somers, and Patch were on
board; and one of the ladies had her lute with her;
and they sang a couple of madrigals, and then Master
Heywood set going a catch, which lasted till they
passed Battersea.
"Do you land here my lord?" then asked Will
Somers of Lord Jacko.
"No," said Lord Jacko, who was stretched in a
most elegant attitude among the red silken cushions,
and looked more than content to be where he was.
"Land in that filthy bog! Certainly not."
"Prithee, why should he land there Will'" asked
the king.
"Because 'tis the place for simples. Does not your
majesty know that they flourish there? and that a


new, or a foreign sort, especially if the bloom be gay,
is worth a king's ransom to the growers?"
"Then go thyself," growled Lord Jacko, "with thy
red and yellow jerkin."
"Nay; I am not for plucking," rejoined Will. "The
king loves to have me in his own pleasaunce, side by
side in the parterre with his laurel poet, Master Hey-
wood here, and Patch; and the day is far off when
he will tear us hence, and fling us aside."
"Like the ill weeds you are," laughed Henry.
"In whom so much golden grain is tangled up.
For my part, I wot Brother Patch," went on Will
to Patch, who was somewhat silent, "his majesty
will never spare us, till he turns water-drinker."
So cheer up then varlet, you must be safe enough,"
said Henry. "But what maggot is at thy crack-brain
now Will? for, by my crown, I see not thy drift."
"Let it carry your majesty up the golden flood
turned on one fine day by Patch and me, from the
cask in the wine-cellars of Hampton. It was a good
turn your wisest chancellor would never have done
your majesty."
"It was a mischievous trick," said the king; "and
you should both have been whipped at the cart's tail,
had you had your deserts."
"Ay!" sighed Patch penitently.


One day, when Hampton Court belonged to Car-
dinal Wolsey, Will Somers and Patch, in search of
some new trick, found their way into the wine-cellars
beneath the palace, and.tapped a cask of canary; that
is to say, "canary" was marked on the cask; but lo!
instead of the golden liquor, out streamed a rush of
golden florins. Patch, who loved his master Wolsey,
never forgave himself that day's work, for it crowned
the king's growing anger with the cardinal, to think
he had hoarded up such wealth.
"But it was rare wine," said the incorrigible Will.
"Such as a little of goes a long way."
"Why, to be sure, if right were right," said Hey-
wood; "but ofttimes much of it goes the wrong way.
What say you my lord?" he added, turning on Lord
Jacko, beside whom he was seated.
"I don't know," sulkily said Lord Jacko.
"I believe you do not," said Will; "for though
your lordship's body has travelled far, you left your
wits at home, laid up in Battersea lavender."
"Come come; manners Will!" smiled the king.
"Faith! Those have followed my wits, that, do
what I will, refuse to stay within, as his lordship's do;
and I have worn them so constantly, that they are like
an ancient leather jack, past mending, unless I put
a fresh patch upon 'em."
(427) F


"Oh, Patch! Come; thou'rt a sad fool to-day," said
the king.
"'Tis a sad world," sighed Patch, letting his bauble
draggle in the stream. Have you not ever found it
so Master Heywood?"
"Why, 'tis as you take it," replied Heywood.
"Prithee, your lute fair lady, for a moment;" and he
struck a prelude and sang:

"'Let the world slide, let the world go:
A fig for care, and a fig for woe!
If I can't pay, why I can owe,
And death makes equal the high and low.'"

"As Master Holbein is making clear to us in his
new paintings on our audience-chamber walls," said
the king, for Hans was once more busy on a Dance
of Death for Henry. "And, if we mistake not, you
have depicted a poor fool in his cap and bells hurried
off by the grim sergeant."
"Yes; he stands next to the king, so please your
majesty," said Hans.
"I thought," said Patch, "the fool neighboured a
fine lord in his plumes and broidery."
"Ay, on one side, and the new-married pair to the
other-that is so," said Hans.
"A truce to death," said the king, his brows cloud-


ing. "My lord of Norfolk showed me yesterday at
supper an exquisite presentment of myself in little."
"It is not as large as life," smiled Hans, well
No; but as true," said the king. "And he further
said you are now studying from the life-the living
"Now, that is really interesting," said Lord Jacko,
rousing up. "And as I love to encourage art, I will
be your model Master Holbein. What do you say to
that ?"
"Thanks many my lord," said Hans. "But for a
few groats I have obtained the services of a poor
beggar man, and he has a truly fine form."
"And doth not bolster it up with stays?" said Will.
"Nor padding?" said Patch.
"Faith nol" laughed Hans. "He has scarce a rag
"Oh, I protest!" said the fop, applying his civet
box to his straight little insignificant nose. "How
can you endure such a fellow?"
"I would tolerate worse company for my art's sake,
my lord."
"Why then, Lord Jacko will certainly be looking
in on you Master Hans," said Will, "for you have only
to glance at his countenance, to see it is full of art."


"I see that nature has small part in it," muttered
Hans, "for the rouge and powder smothering it."
"Well, there is no telling," said Lord Jacko, well
pleased with a compliment from Will; "but I may
look in on you one of these days, and see how you
progress. And if your work pleases me, who knows
but I might commission you to paint me full length!"
"Have you not an old tale in your country, called
'Hans in luck?'" whispered Will to Hans.
Hans nodded.
"Then you are he, of a certainty. Body o' me, you
set best foot foremost from your bed this morning
Master Holbein, to stumble on such patronage as my
Lord Jacko's; and in all your life together, you have
never painted such a load of brocade and finery."
"When I find leisure I will certainly look in upon
you," said Lord Jacko airily, as they parted on landing.
"A rivederci, friend!"
"What did he say'" growled Hans. "Some papper-
"Faith, I think it meant he hopes to see you again
soon," said Heywood, who knew some Italian.
But Hans, having no such hope, walked away in




ANS and his beggar man got on wondrously well
Together. For some days after that trip to
Hampton Court, which, being by order of the king,
he could not refuse, he worked at his living figure
industriously, denying himself to all comers.
His two truest and cleverest friends and admirers,
Lord Norfolk and his son, well understanding his
desire not to be disturbed, refrained entirely from
calling at his lodgings.
One evening however, when he could no longer see
to paint, Hans strolled out for a whiff of fresh air in
Tothill Fields, and meeting the Earl of Surrey, who
also dearly loved a country walk in the moonlight,
they strolled part of the road home together.
"By the way," said the earl as they went, "you
will be getting a visitor to-morrow, if I mistake
"I trust you do my lord," said Hans, pulling a wry
face. "Unless you mean that it is yourself, or his
grace your father, intend to honour me; for you come
and go, and make no pother. And I had liefer even


the king diverted himself elsewhere this next day or
so, till I have my picture well forward."
"I have heard the king has no thought of stirring
out, for his leg is painful these two days past."
"I am heartily glad-sorry, that is," said Hans;
"and to all others I simply deny myself. So there is
an end on't."
"I am none so sure," said the earl with a doubtful
smile. "Some folks will not take a no."
"Conscience o' me my lord!" cried Hans. "Is not
an Englishman's house his castle?"
"But you are not an Englishman," laughed Surrey,
who loved a jest.
"Faith, no! neither am I," laughed Hans; "though
I often forget that. But no matter, Switzers too, can
stand on their rights."
"Well, your castle is threatened to be besieged
anyhow," said Surrey. "I heard Lord Jacko talk of
visiting you to-morrow."
"A thousand thunders!" cried Hans, who had not
forgotten his German, Englishman though he might
be. "Why, he said he might come only at some
moment when he had leisure."
Well, he has little else, after he has dressed and
dined. So be resigned Master Holbein. Though you
must not think I did not strive to prevent him; but a


jackass is easier to be persuaded to go on, than he is
to stand still. So, fare you well, 'forewarned is fore-
armed!' Pray for a rainy day; for Lord Jacko shrinks
from a drop of rain on his gay plumage."
And so they separated, in the clear light of the
moon, which augured no rainy day.
Next morning, indeed, was singularly beautiful.
The sun shone brilliantly into Hans' painting-room,
flinging glorious effects of light and shade on the
handsome beggar man, who stood against a dark-green
curtain for a background.
"The world and his wife seem all abroad to-day,
Master Holbein," remarked the man, as from time to
time strains of far-off music wafted from the streets
and the river in at the open lattice.
"So the world and his wife come not knocking at
my door," said Hans, busily stippling in, "I am glad
they should be merry. And distant music helps
But he had not finished speaking, ere the soft
sounds were lost in a tremendous stir and clatter in
the court-yard below.
"It must be the king after all," groaned Hans, and
looking with dismay at his live model; "though he
generally makes no such commotion. I wish he had
stayed at home and nursed his leg."


"Ho! ho! within there!" shouted a pompous voice.
"Make way for my lord!" and then began a loud
tattoo on Hans' street door.
"The house must be a-fire!" cried the beggar man,
starting all out of his beautiful position.
"What is it?" shouted down Hans, running to the
window, and putting his head out.
"What is it!" echoed the voice. What is it
quotha! A way to speak, o' my conscience! I suppose
you mean: Who is it? You couldn't say less if my
Lord Jacko was a block of wood."
"Lord Jacko!" groaned Hans.
"Ay! I thought I'd pull you to your manners,"
said the noisy fellow triumphantly. "Lord Jacko,
and I am his footman. And he will be here this
moment; so open the door, quick," and the man re-
doubled his tattooing.
"I am exceedingly sorry," said Hans, "but I am
not at home."
Not at home! Though you stand there filling the
casement as large as life!"
"Ay, ay. My body does-but that is nothing,"
argued Hans.
"It is burly enough," said the fellow in insolent
tones. "Come, open at once Master Holbein. Con-
science o' me! a fine how-d'ye-do for a painting fellow


like you to stand parleying with the likes o' me, who
am but my lord over again-when a nobleman, and
one of my Lord Jacko's quality, calls on you. One
would imagine it happened every day of the week"
"No. It isn't so bad as that-" began Hans.
"Bad, sirrah!"
"No matter," said Hans, only eager to get back to
his picture. "Hark ye friend," he went on, "go back
to your master, and making him my humble respects,
beg him to defer his visit till another day."
"What!" cried another voice, which set Hans' teeth
all on edge. "Send me from your pitiful door as if I
was a beggar!"
"No my lord, I hope not," said Hans, "for I trust
I never sent beggar from it yet, without a morsel of
bread or a groat; but since you are a nobleman, and
desire nothing particular of me-"
"I desire my portrait, sirrah!"
"As I say-nothing particular of me, I entreat you
to depart in peace, and come again-if you must-at
a more convenient time."
"It is perfectly convenient-"
"To you, ay, but not to me," said Hans waxing
angry. "I am busy."
"Busy, forsooth!" cried Lord Jacko, .giving the
Danels of the door a kick, and bursting it open, he


scrambled upstairs. "We'll soon see what makes you
too busy to admit me."
"No you won't," said Hans, making a dash forward
and seizing Lord Jacko as he advanced.
"Won't I!" persisted the nobleman in tones whose
rude insolence astonished the beggar man, as he
struggled to wriggle out of Hans' hands; but they
were too strong for him, and, gripping him by the
shoulders, Hans flung him to the bottom of the stairs,
where he lay motionless as a log.
Then ensued such a commotion of women's shrieks,
and angry altercation and t: ri-l (.tfo between Hans'
neighbours, and Lord Jacko's lackeys, as never was
heard; and amidst the confusion Hans made his escape.
Besides being very angry with himself, he was fright-
ened, for the one look he had been able to get of Lord
Jacko, made him think he had seriously hurt, or
perhaps even killed him. And on he rushed, till he
reached the royal apartments, where, disregardful of
the stares and detaining hands of ushers and cham-
berlains and gentlemen-in-waiting, he found himself
in the presence of the king.
"Odds bodikins! Master Hans. What now?" cried
Henry, who was seated in a cushioned bay-window
overlooking the river, quietly reading a book. "What


"I know not rightly," blundered out Hans when
he found breath.
"Ha!" laughed the king. "Some pretty piece of
work, or it would not be Hans Holbein."
"It is no laughing matter I fear," said Hans, "for
I am greatly afraid I have killed a man."
"You Hans?" said the king, laying aside his book.
"Where does he lie?"
"At the bottom of my stairs, so please your ma-
jesty. Ah!" he added, drawing a long breath; "yes,
there he comes. By the Lord Harry! and in a
"Can it be Lord Jacko?" said Henry, looking hard
at a deplorable figure which came limping forward
into his presence, with a handkerchief tied over one
eye, in anything but becoming fashion. "Why man,
has your brain met with an extra crack this morn-
"Ay," fumed Lord Jacko, shaking his fist vigorously
at the culprit Hans, "and 'tis all his doing. Send for
the hangman-the headsman-the-the sexton-"
"Wait, you are not dead yet," said the king.
"Explain what you did."
"I--I called on the fellow."
"He burst in on me," corrected Hans. Whethei
I would or no, he would thrust his company upon me;


and I was busy, and wished him at Jericho-as I
should a better man-"
"And so?"
He would not take no-"
"And so?"
"I pitched him down stairs."
"That was unmannerly of you Hans."
"I am glad it was no worse," said Hans.
"Send for the headsman! Send for the headsman!"
screeched Lord Jacko.
"If he comes, he shall settle your head first my
lord," angrily said the king. "Be silent!-for a dead
man you are mighty troublesome. I say, you behaved
scandalously Hans Holbein. We thought you knew
"So did I," said Hans penitently.
"Lord Jacko was enough to provoke a saint!" cried
the beggar man, who had followed Hans, and now
stood boldly forward in his scanty rags.
"Who are you?" snarled Lord Jacko.
"The king's subject as well as you," said the beggar
man; "and I say a saint would not have borne your
"And-I am no saint," pleaded Hans.
"No faith!" said the king. "You have sinned
shamefully Hans Holbein."


"Yes, yes. Where's the headsman?" began Lord
Jacko, whose greatest hurt had been a terrible
"Down on your knees Hans," went on the king,
"and beg Lord Jacko's pardon."
"No, no!" screamed Lord Jacko. "No-"
"Silence!" said the king; and while the dropping
of a pin might have been heard, down on his knees
went Hans. "My lord," said he, "I know not what
to say, but that in deed and in truth I do heartily
repent my violence to you; and entreat you generously
to pardon my offence."
"No, no. I won't. Is it likely now?" said Lord
Jacko, spurning the supplicant. "I'll have his life!
I'll have his life! His good-for-nothing life! And
if your majesty refuses it to me, I'll be revenged on
him myself."
"Be it so my lord," said Henry with boding stern
brows. Contrive what punishment you will on him,
and the measure of it running over shall be meted to
you again. Beware! Remember pray my lord, that
I can, whenever I please, make seven lords out of
seven ploughmen, but I cannot make one Holbein
even of seven lords."
And amid a clamour of groans and hisses, Lord
Jacko slunk away, and Hans and the beggar man,


followed by an admiring rabble, went back to their
But Hans lost his commission to paint Lord Jacko's
"figure," for Lord Jacko never darkened his door or
crossed his path again.



F the most uneventful life is really the happiest, as
some people say, then the closing years of Hans
Holbein's life were the happiest, for they passed in
peace and content; though indeed, one sore grief
befell him. It was a bitter sad day when his brave,
courteous, and courtly friend, Earl Surrey, incurred
the king's displeasure, and was executed in the Tower.
Very often Hans would wonder to himself how
Henry could be so ruthless to those who had faithfully
served him; and he never could find any more satis-
factory answer to this problem, than that all the good
qualities of Henry Tudor, King of England, were
blighted by his inordinate love of that same Henry
Tudor; and Hans thought that selfishness was a vile


thing indeed, and should be kept under as the dragon
was kept under the horse of St. George on banners
and church windows, struggling for mastery, but never
gaining it.
Before many more years had passed, another of
Hans Holbein's pictures was realized, and death took
Henry, and led him away into the unknown land,
whither he had hurried so many before their time.
If Hans grieved for his loss, which on his own
account he might well do, he had cause to be thankful
that the king did not live another day, for that would
have cost the life of his good friend and patron, the
Duke of Norfolk, who, like the ill-fated earl his son,
was doomed to die the very next day following on the
one on which Henry himself died.
And so the Duke of Norfolk was saved; and hence-
forth, in his house at Aldgate, Hans lived, beloved
and honoured, and died regretted.
But Hans Holbein's work lives on, and it will live
for many a generation longer. On the walls of royal
palaces and stately mansions it glows fresh and life-
like as ever. His pictures are very numerous. He
painted in oil, water-colour, and distemper; in large,
and in miniature; and each and all his pictures, in
their kind, are the perfection of his beautiful art.
Whatever his hands found to do, he did with all his


might and heart, sparing himself never; and though
such wonderful gifts fall to few, the energy and faith-
fulness shine a bright example for all who ever think
of "Hans the Painter."



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