no one could have dreamed that even flowers or gold were
capable, far less parchment or steel. But every change of shade is felt,
every rich and rubied line of petal followed; every subdued gleam in the
soft blue of the enamel and bending of the gold touched with a hand
whose patience of regard creates rather than paints. The jewel itself
was not so precious as the rays of enduring light which form it, and
flash from it, beneath that errorless hand. The man himself, what he
was--not more; but to all conceivable proof of sight--in all aspect of
life or thought--not less. He sits alone in his accustomed room, his
common work laid out before him; he is conscious of no presence, assumes
no dignity, bears no sudden or superficial look of care or interest,
lives only as he lived--but forever.

161. The time occupied in painting this portrait was probably twenty
times greater than Sir Joshua ever spent on a single picture, however
large. The result is, to the general spectator, less attractive. In some
qualities of force and grace it is absolutely inferior. But it is
inexhaustible. Every detail of it wins, retains, rewards the attention
with a continually increasing sense of wonderfulness. It is also wholly
true. So far as it reaches, it contains the absolute facts of color,
form, and character, rendered with an unaccusable faithfulness. There is
no question respecting things which it is best worth while to know, or
things which it is unnecessary to state, or which might be overlooked
with advantage. What of this man and his house were visible to Holbein,
are visible to us: we may despise if we will; deny or doubt, we shall
not; if we care to know anything concerning them, great or small, so
much as may by the eye be known is forever knowable, reliable,
indisputable.

162. Respecting the advantage, or the contrary, of so great earnestness
in drawing a portrait of an uncelebrated person, we raise at present no
debate: I only wish the reader to note this quality of earnestness, as
entirely separating Holbein from Sir Joshua,--raising him into another
sphere of intellect. For here is no question of mere difference in style
or in power, none of minuteness or largeness. It is a question of
Entireness. Holbein is _complete_ in intellect: what he sees, he sees
with his whole soul: what he paints, he paints with his whole might. Sir
Joshua sees partially, slightly, tenderly--catches the flying lights of
things, the momentary glooms: