Holbein's long residence in the house of Sir Thomas More had a good effect upon him; for although Erasmus describes the women of England as "nymphae divinis vultibus, blandae, faciles," yet Holbein seems to have resisted those temptations in London, which rendered his conduct at Basel so reprehensible. Holbein twice revisited Switzerland, once in 1526, the second and last time in 1538: the zealots had just destroyed all the images; and even some painters, infected with the spirit of the age, had declared they would rather starve, than break the second commandment. In England the same work of devastation took place; but Henry VIII., notwithstanding, gave Holbein abundance of work, as he had to paint all his royal consorts in succession, besides a number of portraits for English noblemen.
His sketches of heads, now existing at Kensington, of various people who lived at the court of Henry VIII., and among them one of that monarch, are exquisite productions. Imitations of the original drawings have been published by J. Chamberlaine, fol. Lond. 1792. One picture of Holbein is supposed to be in Surgeons' Hall. Some wood-cuts to Cranmer's Catechism (1548) were made by Holbein. Our biographer, who had never seen the work himself, was led by Walpole [Anecdotes of Painting] to believe, that all the wood-cuts were from Holbein.
With respect to the famous "Dance of Death," the biographer tells us, what we have already stated, that the painting on the wall of the church-yard at Basel is not the work of Holbein; the costumes are of a time anterior to Holbein. There was also a "Dance of Death" painted on the wall of a convent at Bern by Manuel, who lived a little before Holbein. Only on the supposition that the "Dance of Death" at Basel was Holbein's work, could that of Bern be said to be the first of its kind. But, on comparing the costumes, it appears again, that the "Dance of Death" at Bern must have been painted subsequently to that at Basel. No "Dance of Death" of an earlier date was known, until another was discovered on the wall of a convent of nuns at Klingenthal, on the right bank of the Rhine, at Basel. This bears the date of 1312, and is therefore a whole century prior to the other, which cannot have been painted before the year 1439. It has been supposed, that the idea of the "Dance of Death" was taken from certain processions very much in vogue during the middle ages; and it is singular enough, that up to this day, in funeral processions in Italy, long white robes are used, which wholly cover the head, with only two holes for the eyes. But the coincidence of another plague at Basel, which, about the year 1312, destroyed above 11,000 people, renders it more than probable that the artist availed himself of the impression which such a dreadful mortality must have made on the minds of all the surviving, to represent how inexorable death drags to the grave, in terrible sport, rich and poor, high and low, clergymen and laity.
On the authority of Nieuhoff, a Dutchman, who came over to England with William III., Mr. Douce asserts, that Holbein had painted the "Dance of Death" on the walls of Whitehall. Borbonius might then have had in mind this painting, when he mentioned the "Mors picta" of Holbein; but three biographers of Holbein, Mander, Sandrart, and Patin, were in England before Whitehall was destroyed by fire, and make no mention of this painting, although Mander speaks of other paintings of Holbein, particularly the portrait of Henry VIII., that were preserved at Whitehall. Mander states, that he also saw at Whitehall the portraits of Edward, Maria, and Elizabeth, by Holbein, "die oock ter selver plaetse te sien zyn."
Sandrart, whose work was published in 1675, also mentions the paintings of Holbein at Whitehall. Is it credible, that three travellers, two of whom were distinguished artists themselves, should have been at Whitehall, and seen there the paintings of Holbein, without taking notice of the "Dance of Death," if it had been in that place?
Holbein died of the plague in London, 1554.—Westminster Review.
When I see the spirit of liberty in action, I see a strong principle at work; and, this for awhile, is all I can possibly know of it. The wild gas, the fixed air, is plainly broke loose; but we ought to suspend our judgment until the first effervescence is a little subsided, till the liquor is cleared, and until we see something deeper than the agitation of a troubled and frothy surface. I must be tolerably sure, before I venture publicly to congratulate men upon a blessing, that they have really received one.—Burke.
If we must lash one another, let it be with the manly strokes of wit and satire; for I am of the old philosopher's opinion, that if I must suffer from one or the other, I would rather it should be from the paw of a lion, than from the hoof of an ass.—Addison.