“If he, with all his natural genius and aptitude for art, could achieve success, in the measure in which he did achieve it, only by never-ending and still beginning toil and study, how can we emulate even an approximation to his excellence in our art, without an exercise of both? His life is surely another practical illustration of that which the lives of the greatest artists who ever lived--of Titian, of Michael Angelo, of Raffaelle, of Leonardo da Vinci, of Albert Durer--already bear witness to: that study and practice must in art ever go hand-in-hand. Study without practice will but make the pedant; practice without study can but multiply busy worthlessness.” These tributes to his memory, coming as they did from those who could speak with authority, have a special value of their own; with all allowances for the kindly feelings of the moment, they may be accepted as a substantial and enduring testimony. At the time, perhaps, a tribute of respect, at least as much felt and appreciated, was marked by the voluntary attendance at his funeral of the workmen who had helped to carry out his works. His family felt themselves justified (in their letter of thanks to the workmen) “in recognising in that attendance, not only a kind and cordial sympathy with their own sorrow, but also a proof of the respect with which his memory was regarded, and of the pride and interest felt, in having aided to accomplish what his genius had conceived.” And what was true of the workmen was still more true of those who had been his subordinates in the work, and had laboured cordially and efficiently in the service. He had inspired the sympathy which always attends on enthusiasm and self-sacrificing labour in a great cause. A kindly notice in the ‘Saturday Review’ (of May 19th, 1860) may be added appropriately here, as expressing the feeling of the educated public on the occasion:--