glory, and yet to keep back a certain perquisite, the more surely retained for these very disclaimers?

There is a tone and colouring about most of the statements of Christian benevolent work, that seems very far removed from that of the sober daylight of actual experience in dealing with human nature, that great and stubborn fact; a fervid glow that must often, we think, make the heart of many righteous labourers in the Lord's vineyard sad, under the certainty of having no such brilliant statistics to offer. We do not say that the statements set forth in the reports continually given to the world are not true in themselves; but we are sure that they are often calculated to give a false impression of what Christian work really is. Their fault is the same one which pervades modern religious biography: a want of simplicity, a tendency to strain and pressure, which misses, through that very effort, the true greatness of a Christian life. In taking up any such book, we seem to see, not the picture of a Christian, but a Christian sitting for his picture, with a great deal, as is usual in portraiture, put in for the occasion, and a great deal obviously left out.

In such records, the simplicity, the sweetness of a holy life, a life hid with Christ in God, is gone. Letters, diaries, are given to the public; all is laid bare, obtruded. Yet human nature has disappeared; we look in vain for

"This friend of ours, who lives in God,

The human-hearted man we loved."

After all, as we said at first, literature of a devotional class must not be judged of by the ordinary standard. It is the glory of Christianity to condescend to a limited intellectual stature, to humble itself to that which is in man. We must be prepared to see its grand ideal outlines concealed beneath much that is ordinary and mediocre. Christian commonplace will endure while the world lasts; but there are limits even to Christian commonplace, and we consider that charity, which in this region has endured all things, is now entitled to hope all things in the way of improvement.

There are certain rare and beautiful features in the present age of the world, which secular literature has not been slow to catch up and reflect. There are few poems or stories now written which do not betray some sympathy with the generous aspirations with which so many hearts are now familiar, the exalted aims to which so many lives are now directed. In originality, genius, and power, the literature of our present day probably falls short of that of some great intellectual eras; in tenderness, humanity, respect for man's moral nature, admiration for it under its more exalted conditions of self-devotion and heroism,

reverence for goodness under its humbler aspects, sympathy with the family affections, delight in God's visible creation, it rises far above that of any former age. And when we turn from literature to the social life it is connected with, when we see all that is passing around us, the ameliorating influences that are continually yet silently at work, the mighty enterprises that grow out of them,-while there is so much among us that is confessedly Christian, we feel deeply persuaded that the literature which is so professedly, has need to march with the marching order, and that its present status, as regards theology, intellect, and feeling, is unworthy of our present aims, unworthy even of our attainments, whether as Christians or as men.

ART. VI.-1. The History of our Lord as Exemplified in Works of Art. Commenced by the Late Mrs. JAMESON; Continued and completed by LADY EASTLAKE.

London, 1864.

In 2 vols.

2. Christian Iconography; or, The History of Christian Art in the Middle Ages. By M. DIDRON. Translated by E. J. MILLINGTON. London: Bohn, 1851.

IN Mr. Holman Hunt's picture of the Finding of the Saviour in the Temple, no figure has been more severely criticised than that of the youthful Jesus. Many persons, partly because they forget the limits which the painter can never pass, and perhaps more because they want the clear vision to see what he has expressed, have declared themselves ill content with the inadequate representation of that Divine countenance. But they have most loudly condemned the bright red hair, so bright, and raised so high around the head, as to form an almost selfluminous halo. It has not allayed their dissatisfaction to be told that this was a compromise of the claims of modern naturalisin, on the one hand, and medieval symbolism on the other,--a compromise effected by such an arrangement of a natural feature as would suggest the nimbus or glory of the old masters. They resent the obtrusion of any mere conventionalism into the representation of so sacred an incident. Yet the fact remains, that a painter, painting for the British public, has considered it due to himself and his subject to brave these criticisms, and to go as far as, in these days, and in a historical picture, he may towards the employment of a conventional symbol of medieval times.

This of itself raises a presumption that something may be said on behalf of medieval symbolism on principle. And in fact it enters so largely into the composition of many of our most precious art treasures, which cannot be understood without some acquaintance with it, that it may not be useless to devote a few pages to the discussion of its place in art, and to a consideration of some of its more prominent features and characteristics.

Christian art was at first applied solely to purposes of decoration. A painting was not painted nor was a statue chiselled to be a treasure in itself, wherever it might be. It always implied the existence of something to be decorated. Hence the walls of churches and of monasteries, and illuminated manuscripts, are for many centuries the great repositories of Christian art. The earliest specimens of it consist of frescoes on the walls and ceilings of the Catacombs, and bas-reliefs on the sarcophagi lying there. Its earliest object was the utilisation of vacant spaces, and opportunities of decoration for the

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purpose of religious instruction. This object was attained by representations which at once conveyed a meaning to the eye. The Good Shepherd reminded every beholder of our Lord's teachings. The story of Jonah was recognised as typical of the resurrection, that corner-stone of the Christian faith. No subjects are more frequent in the Catacombs than these, and they taught their lesson without any explanation. But little variety of idea was to be obtained within the range of works so readily intelligible; and when the artist passed beyonds its bounds, some clue to his meaning became absolutely necessary, unless he at once abandoned his functions as a teacher. Accordingly, in many early works of art, especially of the Eastern Church, the figures are identified by their names; but long after this practice had died out, it remained customary to distinguish. them by certain signs. Thus our Saviour is distinguished by the cross; either the cross of the passion, heavy and strong, or the resurrection cross, formed of two light transverse bars, often carrying a flag. He is also identified by the stigmata on hands and feet and side; or by a mantle folded round Him, and held so as to display the wound in the side; or He is surrounded by the symbols of the four evangelists,--the angel, the lion, the ox, and the eagle; or He bears a book, sometimes closed, but often open, and with one of the following texts written upon it: "Peace be with you;" "I am the way, the truth, and the life;" "I am the light of the world;" "I am the resurrection;" "He who hath seen me hath seen the Father;" I and the Father are one;" "In the beginning was the Word." Saints likewise had their appropriate marks, familiar enough to identify them by. This identification by means of recognised signs, which was required for purposes of instruction, was rendered the more necessary by the habitual neglect of truth in the accessories which distinguished the ancient painters. In Italian art we find all the scenes of the sacred story placed in Italian landscapes or among Italian buildings, enacted by figures in Italian costume, and often tinctured with a certain infusion of Italian habits and manners. The same charge, if charge it be, may be brought against the Christian art of Holland, and indeed of every other country. The practice arose, no doubt, from ignorance; but one result of it was to make more than ever needful a system of signs which would give the key to the artist's meaning.

Identification, however, is not the most important end and object of symbolism. The painter's intention, in a picture of the apostle Peter, for example, is not to say, "This is Peter;" it is to express his thoughts concerning Peter. His aim is not simply to suggest the idea of that apostle to the spectator's mind, but to declare his conception of his character, and of the

emotions which moved him, or the thoughts which burned within him. For this it is of course necessary that the spectator should know for whom the figure is meant; but as art advanced it became easier to secure this object without any such cumbrous device as writing the name over the head; and when the higher aim was once satisfied, anything which merely served the purpose of identification was foreign to the object of the picture. It will be readily seen, however, that many of the characteristic insignia of Christ above mentioned do more than identify. The cross and the stigmata speak aloud of His sacrifice; the evangelists proclaim the diffusion of His gospel; the texts have each of them its own significance. So it is with the signs of the saints. And a symbol was in use which, not being in any way subservient to the end of identification, simply expresses some thought of the artist concerning his subject. This was the nimbus, or glory; and its variety of meanings well illustrates the real uses of symbolism.

It is used, both in painting and sculpture, as a sign not of office but of character; and its various forms indicate different personal qualities, just as the crown, according to the style of its ornaments, marks a king, duke, marquis, earl, or baron. It sometimes encircles the head; sometimes the whole body. In the former case, it commonly has the name of nimbus; in the latter that of aureole, and the combination of the two is called a glory; but this use of the words is not universally current.

The aureole varies somewhat in form, but it is most commonly oval. Its meaning, however, does not change with its shape. It always indicates high eminence, and is generally applied to Divine persons. Angels are not adorned with it, and saints rarely before the golden age of art; but the Virgin has it much earlier.

The nimbus proper has a great variety of shapes and of meanings. In the Latin Church it always indicates sanctity, though some forms of it have a further significance. Its commonest shape is that of a circular disc. If the disc is intersected by transverse bars, it is a mark of divinity. It is then called the cruciform nimbus, and is applied even to the emblems sometimes used to represent the Divine persons. Thus the Father was, in early art, represented by a hand; and in a miniature of the ninth century, this symbol is surrounded by the cruciform nimbus. The Son often appears in the form of a Lamb; and the Lamb is decorated with the same exclusive mark. The Holy Spirit, who is generally figured as a dove, is distinguished by the same sign. On the other hand, the Virgin Mary, in spite of all the Mariolatry of both the Eastern and the Western Churches, never possesses this peculiar mark of divinity.