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THE  NEW   YORK 

PUBLIC  LIBRARY 


ASTOR,    LENOX   AMD 
TILDEN    FuU^D/^TIONa 


THE    MADONNA    DEL    GRAN     DUCA  —  RAPHAEL 


THE  CHRIST-CHILD  IN  ART 


a  Stub^  of  Untcrpretation 


BY 


HENRY  VAN    DYKE 


Could  every  time-worn  heart  but  see  Thee  once  again 
A   tiappy  human  child  atnong  the  homes  of  men 
The  age  of  doitbt  would  pass — the  vision  of  Thy  face 
Would  silently  restore  the  childhood  of  the  race 


ILLUSTRATED 


NEW  YORK   AND   LONDON 


HARPER     &     BROJHERS     FUHIISHEKS 

1904 


THE  NEW  YORK 

PUBLIC  LIBRARY 


5  I  18 


NOX   AND 

TILDEN  FuUUD -VIONS. 

C  I 

L 


Copyright,  1893,  by  Harper  &  Brothers. 

AU  rights  reserved. 


V 


TO 

ELLEN 

ON   WHOSE    FACE   I    HAVE   SEEN 

THE  BEAUTIFUL  LIGHT  OF  MOTHERHOOD 

SHINING    ABOVE    THE    INNOCENCE    AND    TRUST 

OF    CHILDHOOD    IN    HER    ARMS 

X  SeUfcate  ttifs  Itook 

GRATEFULLY 


PREFACE 

If  it  were  possible  for  the  writer  of  this  book  to  talk  for  a  little 
while  with  those  who  are  about  to  read  it,  he  would  not  wan- 
der from  his  opportunity  by  trying  to  excuse  its  shortcomings. 
His  chief  desire  and  endeavour  would  be  simply  to  express  the 
spirit  of  what  is  written  here  in  such  a  way  that  it  might  ap- 
pear from  the  beginning  in  a  true  light,  and  with  its  own  per- 
sonal character.  In  effect,  he  would  try  to  create  an  understand- 
ing between  the  book  and  its  readers,  feeling  quite  sure  that 
they  would  give  it  fair  judgment,  provided  only  they  did  not 
take  it  at  the  outset  for  something  else  than  what  it  is  meant 
to  be. 

It  is  likely  that  he  would  wish  to  say  something  a  little  differ- 
ent to  each  one  of  them.  For  the  fault  of  a  written  Preface  is 
that  it  remains  always  the  same.  It  has  no  faculty  of  accommo- 
dation. To  accomplish  its  design  perfectly  it  should  have  the 
power  of  change,  in  order  to  adapt  itself  to  the  delicate  work  of 
opening  a  real  communication  between  one  mind  and  another. 
The  ideal  book  would  have  a  separate  introduction  to  every 
reader.  But,  after  all,  there  would  probably  be  a  good  deal  of  the 
same  substance,  though  uttered  with  a  different  accent  and  em- 
phasis, in  each  of  the  addresses.  Certain  things  would  always 
need  to  be  said  as  briefly  and  as  clearly  as  possible.  And  if  the 
opportunity  could  come  to  the  present  writer,  or — since  that  is 
hardly  possible  in  a  world  where  we  must  do  all  our  work  under 
strict  limitations — if  he  might  have  the  good-fortune  to  find  gen- 


vi  PREFACE 

tie  readers  who  would  be  willing  to  take  a  Preface  neither  as  an 
advertisement  nor  as  an  apology,  but  simply  as  an  elucidating 
word,  a  key-note,  he  would  desire  to  say,  at  least,  something 
like  this: 

The  story  of  the  birth  and  childhood  of  Jesus  the  Christ,  told 
with  such  wonderful  simplicity  and  purity  in  the  gospels  of  St. 
Matthew  and  St.  Luke,  has  made  a  most  profound  impression 
upon  the  heart  of  the  world.  It  has  exercised  a  silent,  potent 
influence  not  only  upon  human  thought,  but  also  and  still  more 
deeply  upon  human  feeling  and  action.  It  has  created  new  ideals 
of  taste  and  of  conduct ;  new  forms  of  grace  and  beauty ;  yes, 
we  may  even  say  that  it  has  created  a  new  kind  of  love  and  a 
distinct  type  of  loveliness.  For  certainly,  since  Jesus  was  born 
in  Bethlehem,  the  world  has  learned  a  new  reverence  and  ten- 
derness for  childhood,  and  in  expressing  these  it  has  discov- 
ered in  the  innocence  and  simplicity  of  the  Child  another  em- 
bodiment of  the  Eternal  Beauty  which  dwells  at  the  heart  of  all 
things  good  and  true.  This  was  indeed  a  discovery  of  incalcu- 
lable value,  to  human  art  as  well  as  to  human  life.  It  has  given 
a  new  theme  to  poet  and  painter — a  theme  of  which  ancient  art 
and  literature  knew  comparatively  little,  and  showed  but  few  and 
faint  traces.  Childhood  has  only  begun  to  "come  to  its  own," 
in  the  works  of  art  as  well  as  in  the  deeds  of  charity,  since  men 
have  heard  and  believed  the  story  of  the  Christ-child. 

The  studies  out  of  which  this  book  has  grown  have  been  a 
source  of  strength  and  joy  to  me  for  nearly  twenty  years.  They 
have  followed,  in  very  different  ways  but  always  with  the  same 
spirit,  the  influence  of  the  story  of  Christ's  nativity  and  infancy 
as  it  has  been  told  and  retold,  again  and  again,  among  men. 
They  have  led  me,  in  the  time  of  work,  back  to  the  original 
archives  of  Christianity  to  consider  and  interpret  by  fresh  contact 
the  inexhaustible  significance  of  the  brief,  inspired  record,  and  on 
through  the  history  of  the  Church  to  trace  from  century  to  cen- 
tury the  unfolding  of  truth  in  her  teaching  and  love  in  her  life, 
both  proceeding  from  Him  who  was  laid  in  the  manger  at  Beth- 


PREFACE  vii 

lehem.  They  have  led  me,  in  the  seasons  of  rest  and  recreation, 
into  some  of  the  fairest  countries  and  most  beautiful  cities  on 
earth,  to  see,  face  to  face,  the  finest  creations  of  Christian  art, 
and  try  to  understand  the  conditions  under  which  they  were 
produced,  and  the  meaning  which  they  express.  But  I  have  not 
intended  to  put  anything  more  than  a  very  small  part  of  these 
studies  into  this  book — only  the  results,  not  the  processes  ;  and 
the  results  only  in  so  far  as  they  belong  to  interpretation  rather 
than  to  criticism. 

Pray  do  not  expect  to  find  here  an  institute  of  theology  or  a 
treatise  on  painting,  a  history  of  doctrine  or  a  theory  of  art.  I 
have  not  ventured  to  attempt  these  things.  There  is  something 
less  ambitious  which  I  would  far  rather  do.  1  would  like  to 
trace  in  outline  a  single  chapter  from  the  chronicles  of  the  heart 
of  man;  to  express,  first,  in  the  language  of  to-day  and  words 
of  common  life,  the  meaning  of  the  gospel  narrative  of  the  in- 
fancy of  Jesus;  to  touch  next,  but  lightly,  upon  some  of  the  le- 
gends which  have  gathered  about  it,  that  we  may  feel  how  much 
less  they  are  worth  than  the  primitive  record;  to  follow,  then, 
some  of  the  lines  of  beauty  in  which  art  has  interpreted  the  truth 
of  the  story;  and  at  last  to  leave  the  impression,  which  is  true, 
that  the  chapter  is  still  unfinished,  because  neither  human  faith 
nor  human  art  has  yet  exhausted,  or  ever  will  exhaust,  the  sig- 
nificance of  the  story  of  the  Christ-child  for  the  joy  and  growth 
and  uplifting  of  mankind. 

But  there  are  two  points  on  which  you  are  entitled  to  look  for 
a  more  personal  utterance,  here  at  the  outset,  if  you  are  to  take 
the  trouble  of  reading  what  follows  in  a  spirit  of  comprehension. 
It  makes  a  good  deal  of  difference,  so  far  as  understanding  is 
concerned,  that  you  should  know  from  what  stand-point,  in  re- 
gard to  art  and  religion,  the  book  is  written. 

First,  then,  in  regard  to  art :  I  frankly  confess  myself  an  ad- 
herent of  no  exclusive  school ;  a  devotee  of  no  particular  the- 
ory; an  admirer  of  good  work  wherever  and  however  it  may  be 
done.  The  old  masters  are  admirable,  else  they  would  not  have 
survived.     The  modern  painters  are  admirable;  they  seem  to  us 


viii  PREFACE 

to  have  learned  some  things  hitherto  unknown  ;  and  if  we  are 
right  about  this,  some  of  them  also  will  become  old  masters  in 
the  course  of  time.  Among  all  the  manifold  works  of  art  we 
should  be  looking  always  with  clear  eyes  to  recognize  the  things 
that  are  well  done.  And  by  "well done "  I  mean,  first,  that  they 
must  be  evidently  worth  doing;  and,  second,  that  the  artist's 
keen  sense  of  their  worth  must  express  itself  by  a  thorough 
mastery  of  the  medium  in  which  he  has  chosen  to  depict  them, 
by  patient  labour  concentrated  on  its  proper  object,  and  resulting 
in  a  luminous  and  significant  interpretation  of  that  object  to 
our  perception.  From  this  it  follows  that  the  things  which 
are  well  done  in  art  will  always  have  two  qualities  in  greater  or 
less  degree:  they  will  be  true  to  nature  and  really  related  to  fact; 
they  will  also  be  characteristic  and  expressive  of  the  artist's  per- 
sonality. In  other  words  they  will  have  life-likeness,  by  virtue  of 
their  correspondence  to  the  outer  world  which  the  artist  sees  ; 
and  they  will  have  life,  by  virtue  of  their  relation  to  the  inward 
personal  power  with  which  he  sees  it.  Two  artists,  equally 
great,  will  never  interpret  the  same  subject  in  precisely  the  same 
way.  In  the  work  of  each  there  will  be  something  individual 
and  distinguished.  For  the  stream  of  art,  as  Sainte-Beuve  says 
of  the  stream  of  thought,  "  differs  from  a  river  in  not  being  com- 
posed of  a  number  of  similar  drops.  There  is  a  distinction  in 
the  quality  of  many  of  the  drops."  And  precisely  this  distinction 
is  the  chief  element  that  gives  value  to  a  work  of  art.  The 
idealists  have  done  well  when  they  have  succeeded  in  making 
their  pictures  real.  The  realists  also  have  done  well  when  they 
have  had  ideas.  But,  after  all,  there  are  as  many  different  kinds 
and  qualities  of  idealism  as  of  realism.  Let  us  not  suppose  that 
because  Abana  and  Pharpar,  the  rivers  of  Damascus,  are  beauti- 
ful there  is  no  water  to  refresh  us  in  the  river  Jordan. 

And  yet  this  confession  of  my  stand-point  in  regard  to  art  would 
not  be  complete  without  the  acknowledgment  that  I  reckon  the 
sentiment  and  feeling  of  a  picture  to  be  always  more  precious 
than  its  technical  workmanship.  I  would  willingly  have  walked 
through  a  picture-gallery  with  Coleridge,  of  whom  it  is  told  that 


PREFACE  ix 

he  would  sometimes  say,  after  looking  at  a  painting,  "There's  no 
use  in  stopping  at  this,  for  I  see  the  painter  had  no  idea.  It  is  mere 
mechanical  drawing.  Come  on ;  here  the  artist  meant  something 
for  the  mind."  Coleridge  might  have  made  a  mistake  in  any 
particular  case,  for  the  idea  of  a  picture  does  not  always  stand  out 
upon  the  surface.  But  in  general,  it  seems  to  me,  his  principle 
was  sound  and  deep.  For  with  the  greatest  possible  respect  and 
admiration  for  technical  skill  of  every  kind,  1  yet  hold,  with  the 
latest  and  one  of  the  best  of  the  critics  who  have  written  of 
"  Art  for  Art's  Sake,"  that  without  the  emotion,  feeling,  thought, 
or  idea,  "one  may  produce  art  admirable  by  virtue  of  novelty, 
colour,  form,  skill  of  hand — the  verve  of  the  artist ;  with  it  one 
may  produce  a  higher  art,  speak  a  nobler  language,  serve  a 
loftier  purpose." 

In  regard  to  my  religious  stand-point  a  word  will  suffice.  I  see 
very  clearly  that  all  who  have  approached  the  story  of  the  Christ- 
child  with  sincerity  and  humility,  whatever  their  formal  creeds, 
have  felt  its  beauty  and  its  power.  The  shepherds  in  their  rus- 
tic ignorance,  the  star-led  Magi  emerging  from  the  misty  super- 
stitions of  the  hoary  East,  the  prophet  Simeon  devoutly  waiting 
for  the  consolation  of  Israel — for  all  of  these  there  was  light  and 
blessing  in  the  presence  of  the  Holy  Babe.  But  at  the  same  time 
I  see  still  more  clearly  that  the  brightest  light  and  the  richest 
blessing,  the  best  treasures  of  art  and  the  most  abundant  works 
of  love,  have  come  where  the  birth  of  Jesus  has  been  interpreted 
in  the  faith  of  the  Christian  Church  as  the  personal  entrance  of 
God  into  the  life  of  man.  Therefore  I  hold  that  this  interpreta- 
tion is  true,  and  1  accept  it  with  all  my  heart. 

A  year  ago  I  stood  in  the  chapel  of  the  Hospital  of  the  Inno- 
cents, at  Florence.  There,  in  the  dim  light,  hung  Ghirlandajo's 
fine  painting  of  the  Adoration  of  the  Magi.  The  kings  of  Orient, 
with  their  splendid  cortege,  knelt  before  the  young  child  Jesus. 
In  the  foreground  were  two  lovely  figures  of  children,  clad  in 
diaphanous  and  fleecy  robes  of  white,  kneeling  with  folded 
hands  and  happy  faces.  As  I  looked  at  them  more  closely  I  saw 
by  the  little  drops  of  crimson,  like  necklaces  of  rubies  around 


X  PREFACE 

their  necks,  that  the  old  painter  had  meant  them  to  represent 
two  of  the  martyred  innocents  of  Bethlehem,  and  that  he  had  put 
them  into  his  picture  in  order  that  they  might  silently  utter  the 
thought  of  his  heart  concerning  the  comfort  and  help  and  salva- 
tion which  were  brought  to  the  helpless  and  suffering  children 
of  earth  by  the  infant  Saviour.  Then,  while  this  sweet  thought 
was  moving  within  my  mind,  I  left  the  chapel  and  passed  through 
the  wide  court-yard,  blazing  in  the  heat  of  the  summer  sun. 
There  1  saw  the  painter's  prophecy  fulfilled  in  the  flesh  ;  for  there 
was  a  little  outcast  child  of  the  city  being  carried  in  tenderly  to 
the  cool  chambers  of  the  hospital  to  receive  the  best  care  and 
nursing  that  the  healing  art  of  to-day  can  give.  And  it  seemed 
to  me  that  the  hospital  interpreted  the  picture,  and  the  picture 
interpreted  the  hospital.  Then  I  remembered  how  that  great 
building,  with  its  admirable  proportions  designed  by  Brunellesco, 
its  facade  adorned  with  the  exquisite  reliefs  of  Andrea  della  Rob- 
bia,  and  its  chapel  enshrining  one  of  Ghirlandajo's  noblest  paint- 
ings, had  risen  in  all  its  loveliness  from  the  Christian  faith  and 
compassion  of  the  silk  merchants  of  Florence,  who  built  it  four 
hundred  years  ago  to  be  a  refuge  for  deserted  and  defenceless  lit- 
tle ones  in  the  name  and  for  the  sake  of  Jesus  Christ  the  Lord. 
The  artist's  vision  of  beauty  had  found  its  right  place  in  the  home 
of  charity,  because  both  were  created  by  the  same  impulse  of  de- 
votion to  the  Divine  Christ-child.  Surely  both  expressions  of  that 
impulse  were  true,  and  their  union  makes  a  perfect  harmony  ;  and 
surely  it  will  be  a  good  day  for  the  world  when  that  harmony  is 
renewed.  Modern  art,  splendidly  equipped  and  full  of  skill, 
waits  for  an  inspiration  to  use  its  powers  nobly.  Modern  bene- 
ficence, practical  and  energetic,  lacks  too  often  the  ideal  touch, 
the  sense  of  beauty.  Both  these  priceless  gifts,  and  who  can  tell 
how  many  more,  may  be  received  again  when  the  heart  of  our 
doubting  age,  still  cherishing  a  deep  love  of  faith  and  a  strong 
belief  in  love,  comes  back  to  kneel  at  the  manger-cradle  where  a 
little  Babe  reveals  the  philanthropy  of  God. 


CONTENTS 


PAGE 


THE   ANNUNCIATION ,     .     .     .     .  i 

THE   NATIVITY 45 

THE   ADORATION   OF  THE   MAG! in 

THE   FLIGHT   INTO   EGYPT 147 

THE   CHILDHOOD   OF  JESUS 187 


ILLUSTRATIONS 


THE  ANNUNCIATION 

THE  MADONNA  DEL  GRAN'  DUCA — RAPHAEL  „  . 
THE  ANNUNCIATION — FRA  FILIPPO  LIPPI  .  .  , 
THE    ANNUNCIATION — LORENZO    GHIBERTI      .       .       . 

THE    ANNUNCIATION — DONATELLO 

MOSAIC  OF  THE  ANNUNCIATION — FIFTH  CENTURY 
THE    ALLEGORY    OF    THE    UNICORN   ...... 

THE    ANNUNCIATION FRA   ANGELICO   .       .       .       ,       , 

THE    ANNUNCIATION SANDRO    BOTTICELLI    .       .       . 

THE  ANNUNCIATION — FRANCESCO  FRANCIA  .  .  . 
THE   ANGELIC    GREETING — ROGER   VAN  DER  WEYDEN 

THE    ANNUNCIATION ANDREA    DEL    SARTO  .       .       . 

ECCE   ANCILLA    DOMINI — DANTE    GABRIEL    ROSSETTI 


PAGE 

Frontispiece 

3 

5 

9 

14 

17 

19 

25 
29 

33 
37 
41 


THE   NATIVITY 

IL    PRESEPIO — GIOTTO 49 

THE    VIRGIN    IN    A    WOOD FILIPPO    LIPPI         ........  55 

THE    NATIVITY ANDREA    DELLA    ROBBIA -  59 

THE    NATIVITY ROGER    VAN    DER    WEYDEN 65 

THE    ADORATION    OF    THE    SHEPHERDS — -DOMENICO    GHIRLANDAJO  69 

FROM  SARCOPHAGUS    OF    FOURTH    CENTURY  ........  72 


xiv  ILLUSTRATIONS 

PAGB 

THE   MOTHER   ADORING    HER   CHILD 75 

THE    NATIVITY — BERNARDINO   LUINI 8 1 

LA    NOTTE  -CORREGGIO 85 

THE   ADORATION   OF    THE   SHEPHERDS — MURILLO 9 1 

THE    HOLY    NIGHT FRITZ  VON    UHDE 97 

MADONNA    IN   VLADIMIR   CATHEDRAL,    KIEFF — V,  M.  VASNETZOFF  IO3 


THE  ADORATION  OF  THE  MAGI 

MOSAIC    FROM    THE  CHURCH  OF  S.  APOLLINARE  NUOVO,  RAVENNA  II3 

THE    WISE    MEN   AND    THE   STAR — ROGER   VAN    DER   WEYDEN        .  II5 

FRESCO    FROM    THE    CATACOMBS I20 

SHRINE   OF   THE   THREE    KINGS,   IN    THE    COLOGNE    CATHEDRAL    .  1 23 

ONE   OF   THE   MAGI — BENOZZO    GOZZOLI 127 

THE    ADORATION    OF   THE    MAGI — RUBENS 131 

THE    ADORATION    OF   THE    MAGI — BOUGUEREAU 135 

THE   ARRIVAL    OF    THE   MAGI    AT    BETHLEHEM — JOHN    LA    FAROE  139 

(hirst  half  ol  the  painting  in  the  Church  of  the  Incarnation,  New  York) 

THE   ARRIVAL   OF   THE    MAGI    AT    BETHLEHEM — JOHN    LA    FAROE  I43 

(Second  half  of  the  painting  in  the  Church  of  the  Incarnation,  New  York) 


THE  FLIGHT  INTO   EGYPT 

THE    FLIGHT    INTO    EGYPT — GIOTTO 151 

FRESCO — NOTRE-DAME  d'aBONDANCE — THE  FLIGHT  INTO    EGYPT  155 

THE    REPOSE    IN    EGYPT — ALBRECHT   ALTDORFER 157 

THE    REPOSE — LUCAS    CRANACH 161 

THE    HOME    IN    EGYPT — ALBRECHT    DURER 1 65 

THE    FLIGHT    INTO    EGYPT — MURILLO 1 69 


ILLUSTRATIONS  xv 

PAGB 

THE    FLIGHT    INTO    EGYPT PIERRE    LAGARDE 173 

IN    THE   SHADOW   OF    ISIS — LUC    OLIVIER    MERSON 177 

THE   TRIUMPH    OF    THE    INNOCENTS — W.    HOLMAN    HUNT     .       .       .       l8l 


THE   CHILDHOOD  OF   JESUS 

THE    ORLEANS    MADONNA — RAPHAEL 191 

THE   CHILD   JESUS    IN    THE    FIELDS — ALFRED    BRAMTOT        .       .       ,  197 

LA    BELLE   JARDINIERE— RAPHAEL 201 

THE   VIRGIN   AND    CHILD    WITH    ST.    JOHN — BOTTICELLI        .       .       .  205 

THE    HOLY    FAMILY — PINTURICCHIO 209 

THE    HOLY    FAMILY — FRANZ    DEFREGGER .  213 

THE  CHILD  JESUS  TAUGHT  BY  HIS  MOTHER — LUC  OLIVIER  MERSON  219 

THE    HOLY    FAMILY — MURILLO 223 

CHRIST   AMONG    THE   DOCTORS — DUCCIO 229 

THE   BOY   JESUS    IN    THE   TEMPLE — HOFMANN  ...,,..  233 


THE    ANNUNCIATION 


There  is  a  vision  in  the  heart  of  each 

Of  justice,  mercy,  wisdom,  tenderness 

To  wrong  and  pain,  and  knowledge  of  their  cure ; 

And  these  embodied  in  a  woman's  form 

That  best  transmits  them  pure  as  first  received 

From  God  above  her  to  mankind  below. 

Robert  Browning. 


3lnU  in  tfft  stptf)  manti)  t^t  anjel  Gabriel  tDaes  sent  from 
(Soli  unto  a  citp  of  <8aliltt,  naraeii  iQa^aretl), 

Co  a  totrsin  espouseli  to  a  man  \o^oac  name  teas  2r(>' 
sepi),  of  t()e  douse  of  E)abi5 ;  anH  tfje  Dtr^tn's  name  tnaa 
iHarp. 

Slna  t|)e  anffel  came  in  unto  ^er,  anlJ  satJ,  |)ail,  tljon  tliat 
art  dig:l)lp  faijoureu,  tlje  lorB  is  toitlj  tiftt :  blesseU  art  t^ou 
among  toomen. 

SInJ  to()en  s|)e  sato  Jjim,  6l)e  teas  troubled  at  (jis  sap- 
ing:,  anU  cast  in  lier  minJ  to|)at  manner  of  salutation  tjjis 
sidonlli  be. 

anU  tl)e  anffel  saiH  nnto  \}tv,  jFear  not,  iRarp :  for  tjjou 
tiast  founD  favour  taitif  (3oti, 

3tnU,  bejjoliJ,  tj^ou  sl)alt  conceive  in  tl)p  iuomb,  antJ  brin^ 
fortb  a  son,  anti  s^alt  call  U^  name  JESUS. 

^c  sljall  be  jreat,  anU  s^all  be  calleU  tl)e  ^on  of  tlje 
^iffljest;  ani  tl)e  lorti  (3o1i  sl)all  fftiie  unto  ()im  tt)e  tjjrone 
of  l)is  fat()er  DabiU : 

anl  be  s^all  reig;n  otier  t{)e  I)ouse  of  STacob  for  eiier ;  anH 
of  dis  king;Uom  tl)ere  sl)all  be  no  enti. 

C^en  saiU  ;Ptarp  unto  tj)e  anffel,  poto  sljall  tUB  be,  see- 
ing; 3r  fenoto  not  a  man  ? 

3ln5  tl)e  angel  ansttereJ  anli  sail  unto  l)er,  C()e  |)olp 
(Sl)ost  sball  come  upon  tjjee,  antJ  tbe  potoer  of  t^e  |)i5beBt 
sljall  oijersbaiJoto  tl)ee:  tI)erefore  also  t|)at  l^olp  tljing;  tDJjiclSf 
s^all  be  born  of  tl)ee  s^all  be  callelJ  tl^e  ^on  of  (Soli. 

9lnli,  be^olli,  t^p  cousin  ©Usabetb,  s^e  jjatb  also  concelUeJj 
a  son  in  l&er  oU  age ;  anli  t^is  is  tl)e  siptj)  mont^  toitb  ber, 
m^o  teas  callel)  barren. 

jFor  toitl)  (0oti  notI)ing  6l)all  be  impossible. 

Stnti  iHarp  saiU,  iSefjolti  tl)e  banUmatB  of  t^t  LorU ;  be  it 
unto  me  atcoriing  to  tif^  luorli.  SlnlJ  t^t  angel  BeparteU 
from  ^er. — St.  Luke,  i.  26-38. 


THE   ANNUNCIATION  —  FRA   FILIPPO   UPPI 
From  a  Painting  in  the  National  Gallery,  London 


I 


^^"^^HE  Annunciation  is  the  prelude  of  the  birth 
of  Christ.  It  is  the  slender  song  in  a  maid- 
en's heart  which  gives  the  keynote  and  the 
motive  for  all  the  splendid  symphonies,  celestial  and 
terrestrial,  which  have  been  woven  about  the  name  of 
Jesus.  To  us  who  listen  across  the  centuries  it  seems 
as  if  this  earlier  prophetic  melody  in  the  cottage  at 
Nazareth  rose  immediately  into  the  chorus  of  angels 
which  the  shepherds  heard  upon  the  hills  of  Bethle- 
hem. The  interval  of  long  and  weary  months  disap- 
pears in  our  thought.  The  Annunciation  becomes  the 
beginning  of  the  Nativity.  We  hear  in  Gabriel's  mes- 
sage and  Mary's  answer  simply  the  first  words  of  "the 
glad  tidings  of  the  Holy  Child  Jesus." 


4  THE  CHRIST-CHILD    IN    ART 

Surely  it  is  not  unnatural  that  there  should  be  such 
a  prelude  to  such  an  event.  Nothing  in  nature  arrives 
unheralded.  The  dawn  foretells  the  day-spring.  The 
bud  prophesies  the  flower.  This  is  the  way  of  God  in 
His  world.  And  it  would  be  strange  indeed — stranger 
than  any  miracle  —  if  there  should  be  no  announce- 
ment of  the  birth  of  that  well -beloved  Son,  in  whose 
perfect  life  the  fulness  of  the  Godhood  is  to  be  revealed 
in  manhood. 

But  after  what  fashion  should  this  annunciation  be 
made  ?  With  signs  and  wonders  in  heaven  and  earth  .? 
With  blasts  of  celestial  trumpets  and  mighty  voices 
echoing  over  land  and  ses.?  It  might  have  been  so 
in  a  myth  or  a  fable,  but  not  in  the  history  of  a  real 
religion.  Turn  back  to  the  record  of  the  event  which 
is  given  by  the  evangelist  Luke,  and  see  the  beautiful 
difference  between  a  true  and  a  false  revelation.  Read 
again  the  strangely  simple  and  moving  words  in  which 
the  story  is  told.  How  quiet  and  serene  is  the  nar- 
rative of  what  befell  the  lonely  maiden  of  Nazareth. 
How  little  there  is  to  strike  the  eye  and  how  much 
to  touch  the  heart.  How  direct  and  delicate  is  the 
phrase.  Nowhere  else  could  this  story  have  been 
preserved,  save  in  the  memory  of  the  virgin  who  was 
so  pure  and  gentle  that  angels  might  gladly  do  her 
reverence.  And  it  seems  most  natural  to  suppose  that 
St.  Luke,  in  his  early  discipleship,  heard  the  narrative 
from  Mary's  own  lips,  and  wrote  down  in  her  own 
words  this  sacred  poem  of  the  Annunciation. 

But  what  is  its  inward  meaning  ?  What  significance 
has  it  for  the  soul  of  man .? 


THE    ANNUNCIAIIDN  —  LORKNZO    ( ;i  1 1  iiKKTI 
From  the  Baptistery  Gates,  Florence 


THE    ANNUNCIATION  7 

It  seems  to  me  that  it  is  the  embodiment  and  ex- 
pression of  a  twofold  mystery.  It  expresses,  first  of 
all,  the  mystery  of  a  divine  revelation,  a  flash  of  that 
secret  spiritual  light  which  is  ever  breaking  through 
from  the  realm  of  the  invisible  into  the  realm  of  the 
visible.  But  it  expresses  also,  and  no  less  truly,  the 
mystery  of  a  human  faith,  that  secret  spiritual  capac- 
ity for  receiving  enlightenment,  which  waits  and  longs 
for  the  divine  illumination,  and  is  quickened  by  it  into 
a  heavenly  fruitfulness.  This  quiet  and  obscure  event 
at  Nazareth  is  the  point  at  which  the  divine  light  in 
perfect  clearness  meets  the  human  faith  in  perfect  re- 
ceptiveness,  and  they  mingle  in  a  new  life. 

All  through  the  history  of  Israel  the  prophecy  of 
the  coming  Christ  had  been  gleaming  with  a  vague 
and  diffused  radiance,  like  sunlight  playing  from  be- 
hind the  clouds  on  distant  waters.  Now  it  is  gathered 
into  a  single  ray,  slender,  distinct,  and  vivid  with  per- 
sonality. For  many  centuries  Hebrew  motherhood  had 
been  ennobled  and  glorified  by  the  great  expectancy 
of  the  Messiah  who  should  redeem  His  people.  Now 
the  Divine  Hope  descends  dove-like  into  a  virgin's 
breast  and  is  conceived,  and  thus  begins  a  human  life, 
borne  tenderly  and  secretly  beneath  the  heart  of  her 
who,  among  all  the  maidens  of  Israel,  has  found  favour 
with  God. 

How  else  shall  the  story  be  told  than  in  the  words 
of  the  Sacred  Scripture  ?  Could  any  other  form  come 
closer  to  the  reality,  or  image  it  more  clearly  ?  I  have 
been  reading  the  disquisitions  and  explanations  of  the 
early  theologians,  but  they  seem  dry  and  tedious ;  they 


8  THE  CHRIST-CHILD    IN    ART 

add  nothing  to  knowledge,  and  they  take  much  from 
reverence.  Curious  inquiries  into  the  mystery  of  phys- 
ical birth,  they  are  worthless  as  science,  and  worse 
than  worthless  as  religion.  I  have  been  reading  also 
the  pagan  myths  of  the  birth  of  demi-gods  —  of  Per- 
seus, whom  Danae  bore,  and  of  Castor  and  Pollux,  the 
sons  of  Leda;  but  they  seem  gross  and  sensual;  the 
heaviness  of  falsehood  clings  to  them  and  weighs  them 
down.  I  have  been  reading  also  the  tales  of  Messiah's 
coming  which  are  told  in  the  Talmud,  and  which  rep- 
resent the  expectations  of  the  great  mass  of  the  Jewish 
people  in  the  time  of  Christ ;  but  they  are  full  of 
caprice  and  fantasy,  incoherent  and  grandiose;  they 
abound  in  strange  portents ;  they  are  noisy  with  the 
wars  of  Gog  and  Magog ;  they  predict  the  arrival  of  a 
monarch  whose  chief  glory  is  to  be  the  rebuilding  of  Je- 
rusalem with  gold  and  jewels  and  costly  woods,  and  the 
bringing  of  all  other  nations  to  pay  tribute  to  the  Jews. 

When  one  turns  from  all  this  literature  of  fancy 
debased  by  avarice  and  perturbed  by  sensuality,  of 
curiosity  pushed  beyond  the  mark,  and  of  realism 
which  becomes  untrue  because  it  tries  so  hard  to  be 
exact — when  one  turns  back  from  all  this  to  St.  Luke's 
narrative  of  the  Annunciation,  it  is  like  passing  from 
the  glare  and  turmoil  of  a  masquerade  in  an  artificial 
park,  into  the  soft  fresh  air  of  a  real  garden,  where  the 
dews  are  falling  and  the  fragrance  of  unseen  flowers 
comes  through  the  twilight. 

How  little  is  defined  and  yet  how  much  is  clear  in 
this  atmosphere  of  inspired  verity !  Gabriel,  "  the 
strength   of    God,"  is  the   name   given  to  the  angelic 


THE   ANNUNCIATION  —  DONATELLO 
From  a  bass-relief  in  stone  in  the  Church  of  S.  Croce,  Florence 


THE  NEW   YORK 

PUBLIC  LIBRARY 


ASTOR,   LENOX  AND 
TILDEN   FOUNDATIONS. 

c 


THE    ANNUNCIATION  il 

messenger.  Mary,  "  the  handmaid  of  the  Lord,"  is  the 
favoured  one  of  the  chosen  race  —  chosen  to  this  spe- 
cial honour,  doubtless,  for  no  other  reason  than  be- 
cause it  had  cherished  the  purity  and  dignity  of  wom- 
anhood more  perfectly  than  any  other  race  of  the 
ancient  world.  We  are  not  to  think  of  the  Hebrew 
woman  of  that  age  as  ignorant  and  degraded.  There 
is  nothing  at  all  unnatural  or  incredible  in  finding 
such  a  character  as  Mary,  so  chaste,  so  meek,  so 
noble,  in  a  quiet  home  of  Nazareth.  She  is  aston- 
ished at  the  gracious  and  joyful  salutation  that  comes 
to  her ;  and  that  also  is  not  unnatural,  for  it  is  a  greet- 
ing hitherto  unknown.  There  is  a  moment  of  won- 
der and  surprise  ;  a  tremour  of  maiden  fear ;  a  bending 
of  simple  faith  to  receive  the  heavenly  thought ;  an 
overshadowing  Spirit  of  power;  a  new  conception  of 
God  in  humanity.  The  miracle  has  come  unseen.  A 
woman,  blessed  among  all  her  sisters,  believes  that  her 
child  is  to  be  the  Son  of  the  Highest,  and  will  call 
His  name  Jesus,  because  He  shall  be  the  Saviour. 

That  is  the  essence  of  the  Annunciation.  But  what 
of  the  accidents — what  of  the  details  of  form  and  time 
and  place  ?  All  these  are  veiled.  We  do  not  know 
what  was  the  nature  and  appearance  of  the  angel ;  nor 
whether  Mary  was  waking  when  the  message  came,  or 
sleeping  and  dreaming,  as  Joseph  was  when  he  re- 
ceived his  warning.  We  are  not  told  whether  she  was 
reading  or  spinning  in  her  room,  or  praying  in  the 
Temple,  or  resting  on  the  house-top,  after  the  manner 
of  the  Orient.  The  hour  is  not  set  at  morning  or 
noon  or  evening  or  midnight.     The  story  leaves  these 


12  THE   CHRIST-CHILD  IN    ART 

things,  as  so  much  in  the  Gospel  is  left,  to  that  rever- 
ent Imagination  which  is  "the  true  sister  of  Faith." 
And  what  I  desire  to  do  here  is  to  touch  briefly  upon 
some  of  the  forms  in  which  that  Imagination  has  ex- 
pressed itself  in  art,  and  interpret  them,  if  I  can,  in  the 
spirit  of  the  truth  which  they  embody. 


II 


We  must  recall,  at  the  beginning,  some  of  the  le- 
gends of  the  Annunciation  which  are  found  in  the 
apocryphal  gospels  and  in  the  poems  and  romances 
of  the  Middle  Ages.  These  are,  indeed,  the  first  and 
most  childish  efforts  of  art,  and  the  imagery  which 
the  poets  and  story-tellers  use  in  their  narratives  is 
often  repeated  by  the  painters  and  sculptors  in  their 
works. 

The  unknown  writer  whose  fragment  of  the  his- 
tory of  Mary  is  preserved  for  us  by  St.  Jerome  adds 
only  a  single  touch  to  the  story  of  the  Annunciation, 
but  it  is  a  very  graphic  one.  He  says  that  the  angel, 
coming  in,  "  filled  the  room  where  Mary  was  with  a 
great  light."  The  author  of  the  book  called  the  Prote- 
vangeliimi  of  St.  James  gives  a  much  fuller  narrative. 
He  tells  us  that  Mary  had  been  chosen  by  lot  from 
among  seven  maidens  of  Nazareth  to  spin  the  royal 
purple  for  a  new  curtain  in  the  Temple.  One  day,  as 
she  was  returning  with  her  pitcher  of  water  from  the 
fountain,  she  heard  a  voice  saying,  "  Hail,  thou  who  art 


THE   ANNUNCIATION  13 

full  of  grace !"  She  looked  to  the  right  and  to  the  left 
to  see  whence  the  voice  came,  and  then,  trembling, 
went  into  her  house,  and,  putting  aside  the  pitcher, 
took  up  the  purple,  and  sat  down  to  spin  it.  And  be- 
hold, the  angel  of  the  Lord  stood  by  her,  and  said, 
"Fear  not,  Mary,  for  thou  hast  found  favour  in  the 
sight  of  God." 

In  the  mediaeval  poems  of  Germany,  Mary  is  de- 
scribed as  crossing  the  court-yard  to  wash  her  hands 
at  the  fountain  when  the  angel  first  appeared,  and 
as  sitting  among  her  companions,  who  were  working 
discontentedly  at  the  coarser  linen  of  the  Temple  veil, 
when  he  came  again  to  complete  his  message.  These 
details  are  often  repeated  in  the  early  works  of  art. 
If  it  is  the  first  appearance  of  the  angel  that  the  artist 
has  chosen  to  depict,  he  shows  us  the  fountain  and  the 
pitcher,  or  the  walls  and  pillars  of  the  court  through 
which  Mary  is  passing.  If  he  has  chosen  the  second 
appearance,  the  scene  is  laid  within-doors,  and  we  are 
reminded  by  some  naive  and  obvious  token  of  the 
work  in  which  Mary  was  engaged.  There  is  an  abun- 
dance of  such  representation  of  the  Annunciation 
among  the  ancient  mosaics  and  carvings  in  ivory  and 
wood  and  stone.  Rohault  de  Fleury,  in  his  splendid 
volumes,  has  described  a  number  of  them. 

The  mosaic  from  the  Church  of  Santa  Maria  Mag- 
giore,  in  Rome,  is  interesting  chiefly  because  it  shows 
the  early  date  at  which  some  of  these  legendary  par- 
ticulars became  the  common  properties  of  art.  It  was 
made  in  the  fifth  century;  and  here  are  the  skeins  of 
purple  on  Mary's  lap,  and  the  distaff  on  her  arm.     For 


H 


THE    CHRIST-CHILD   IN    ART 


the  rest,  the  mosaic  has  little  value  as  an  interpretation 
of  the  story.  It  misses  the  very  essence  of  it  by  repre- 
senting Mary  as  a  proud  empress  on  a  throne,  and  call- 
ing in  three  angels  with  Gabriel  to  witness  the  scene. 
The  most  significant  and  the  most  enduring  imag- 
inative detail  in  the  art  of  the  Annunciation  was  intro- 
duced by  St.  Bernard.  He  says  that  the  Virgin  was 
reading  in  the  Book  of  the  Prophet  Isaiah,  and  when 


MOSAIC    OF  THE   ANNUNCIATION  —  FIFTH    CENTURY 

In  S.  Maria  Maggiore,  Rome 

By  permission  of  the  J.  G.  Gotta'sche  Buchhandlung,  Nachfolger 


she  came  to  the  verse,  "  Behold,  a  virgin  shall  conceive 
and  bear  a  son,"  and  was  thinking  in  her  heart 
how  gladly  she  would  be  a  handmaid  to  serve  one 
so  blessed,  the  angel  drew  near  and  said :  "  Hail, 
Mary!  Blessed  art  thou  among  women."  The  thought 
is  so  beautiful,  it  is  no  wonder  that  art  adopted  it. 
The  Book,  lying  open  on   Mary's  knee,  or  on  a  desk 


THE   ANNUNCIATION 


15 


before  her,  or  clasped  against   her  bosom,  appears  in 
the  most  and  the  best  of  the  Annunciation  pictures. 

Other  emblems,  with  a  meaning  more  or  less  mys- 
tical, were  associated  with  the  story,  and  came  gradu- 
ally into  use  among  the  artists,  with  slight  variations 
depending  upon  personal  choice  and  training.  The 
lilies,  which  seem  to  us  the  most  natural  symbols  of 
virgin  purity,  became  common  in  the  twelfth  century. 
They  are  growing  in  a  pot  beside  the  maid  Mary,  or 
carried  in  the  angel's  hand.  Sometimes  he  bears  in 
their  stead  a  branch  of  olive,  the  emblem  of  peace,  or 
a  royal  sceptre  surmounted  with  a  cross  or  a  globe. 
When  we  see  the  palings  of  a  garden  in  the  back- 
ground of  a  picture,  the  artist  is  reminding  us  of  the 
verse  in  the  Song  of  Solomon  which  says,  "A  garden 
enclosed  is  my  sister,  my  spouse."  The  flawless  mir- 
ror is  an  illusion  to  the  phrase  in  the  Book  of  Wis- 
dom, "■  spectilum  sine  macula^  The  bush  which  burns 
but  is  not  consumed  is  taken  from  the  vision  of  Moses. 
The  dove  is  the  universal  symbol  of  the  Holy  Spirit. 
I  have  seen  pictures  of  the  Annunciation  into  which 
the  artist  has  introduced  a  basket  of  fruit  and  a  pitcher 
of  water,  to  signify  Mary's  frugality;  or  a  cat,  to  de- 
note, perhaps,  her  domesticity.  Sometimes  a  painter 
(following  a  custom  which  has  come  down  from  the 
times  in  which  every  event  in  the  Old  Testament  was 
interpreted  as  a  type  of  something  in  the  New)  will  put 
a  little  scene  from  the  Old  Testament  in  the  distance, 
representing  Eve,  because  she  is  the  mother  of  human- 
ity; or  Bathsheba,  because  the  Davidic  line  descends 
through  her  that  was  Uriah's  wife.     But  the  strangest 


l6  THE   CHRIST-CHILD   IN   ART 

and  most  mystical  of  all  the  Annunciation  emblems  is 
the  unicorn.  I  have  taken  an  illustration  of  it  from 
an  old  German  painting  in  Weimar.  The  explanation 
is  found  in  an  allegory  which  occurs  first  in  the  works 
of  an  unknown  writer  of  the  eleventh  century,  called 
Physiologus,  and  became,  somewhat  later,  one  of  the 
favourite  themes  of  mediaeval  poetry.  It  runs,  briefly, 
in  this  wise: 

"  The  unicorn  is  an  animal  of  such  wondrous  wis- 
dom and  strength  that  no  hunter  can  take  him,  and 
of  such  gracious  quality  that  his  horn  wounds  only  to 
heal.  This  represents  the  Saviour.  He  is  pursued 
by  a  heavenly  huntsman,  who  is  God  the  Father,  and 
four  hounds,  which  are  named  Truth,  Peace,  Mercy, 
and  Justice.  Coming  to  a  pure  virgin,  he  takes  refuge 
in  her  bosom,  lays  aside  all  his  wildness,  and  is  capt- 
ured at  last." 

It  was  a  strange  and  confused  theology  which  could 
evolve  such  a  legend  out  of  its  inner  consciousness; 
but,  such  as  it  was,  the  Middle  Ages  delighted  in 
it;  and  here  you  see  it  all  drawn  out  and  carefully 
labelled,  according  to  the  old  German  poem,  which 
says: 

"  Der  einhurn  hiit  gevangen  ist, 
in  miigden  schos  mit  grossem  list; 
der  ist  gewesen,  ihesus  crist, 
die  maget  du,  maria  bist." 


THE    ANNUNCIATION 


17 


III 


Out  of  this  unreal  and  allegorical  region  of  the 
early  legends  we  may  turn  with  gladness  to  the  freer 
and  fairer  realm  of  pure  art,  and  see  how  the  real 
thought  of  the  Annunciation  has  been  clothed  with 
forms  of  beauty. 

It  is  not  one  of  those  subjects  which  test  the  force 
of  an  artist's  genius  or  the  fertility  of  his  invention. 
It  does  not  demand  mighty  strength  in  the  expression 
of  emotions,  or  a  broad  range  of  comprehensive  in- 
telligence in  the 
study  of  contrast- 
ed characters,  or 
even  a  profound 
knowledge  of  his- 
tory and  archaeol- 
ogy. It  appeals 
rather  to  a  certain 
delicacy  of  senti- 
ment, a  fine  feel- 
ing for  the  beauty 
which  exists  in  the 
simplest  things,  a 
power  to  appreci- 
ate  truths   which 

evade  definition,  and  to  suggest  those  inward  expe- 
riences of  the  soul  which  are  so  profound  and  yet  so 
evanescent  that  they  can  hardly  be  expressed  in  words. 

Perhaps  it  is  due  to  this  quality  of  the  subject  that 


THE   ALLEGORY    OF   THE   UNICORN 
By  permission  of  Messrs.  Wiegandt  and  Grieben,  Berlin 


l8  THE  CHRIST-CHILD   IN    ART 

there  are  no  world-famous  pictures  of  the  Annunci- 
ation. The  greatest  artists  seem  to  have  passed  it  by ; 
or  if  they  touched  it  they  did  not  put  their  highest 
powers  into  the  painting,  and  it  remains  comparatively 
unnoticed  among  their  more  celebrated  works.  Thus 
it  comes  to  pass  that  one  who  is  studying  the  pictures 
of  the  Annunciation  will  often  find  the  most  charming 
ones  in  out-of-the-way  places.  There  is  one,  I  remem- 
ber, in  the  little  city  of  Arezzo,  over  an  outer  door- 
way in  the  neglected  church  of  S.  Annunziata.  The 
sacristan  brought  a  long  ladder  and  climbed  up  to  open 
the  crumbling  wooden  shutters  which  only  half  pro- 
tected it  from  the  weather.  It  was  a  fresco  by  Spi- 
nello  Aretino ;  the  angel,  in  his  white  robe  sown  with 
stars  and  his  diadem  crowned  with  the  tongue  of  fire, 
was  kneeling,  with  his  palm-branch,  before  the  fair  and 
humble  virgin,  and  from  the  Father's  out-spread  arms 
above,  the  heavenly  babe  came  floating  down  on  a  ray 
of  light,  borne  up  by  two  roseate  cherubs.  An  ineffa- 
ble air  of  peace  breathed  from  the  picture,  and  it  was 
most  lovely  even  in  its  decay.  Another,  of  equal 
though  very  different  charm,  I  found  in  the  Pinacoteca 
Vannucci,  at  Perugia.  It  was  the  top  of  a  triptych  by 
Piero  degli  Franceschi ;  the  virgin  walked  beneath  a 
marble  colonnade  beside  a  secluded  garden ;  the  angel 
who  met  her  had  no  need  of  lilies  or  palm-branch  to 
attest  his  origin,  for  his  aspect  was  so  noble  that,  as 
Vasari  says  of  him,  "  he  was  fit  to  come  from  heaven." 
In  many  unvisited  churches  and  obscure  galleries  I 
found  pictures  of  the  Annunciation  which  pleased  me 
with  the  charm  of  sincerity  and  sweetness  and  purity; 


THE     ANNUN'CIATION — FRA     ANGELICO 
From  a  painting  in  the  Baptistery,  Cortona 


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THE   ANNUNCIATION  21 

and  the  best  of  all  was  in  the  convent  of  La  Verna, 
high  above  the  sources  of  the  Arno,  where  the  loveliest 
works  of  Andrea  della  Robbia  are  hidden  away  in 
mountain  solitude. 

But  the  illustrations  for  this  stud}^  I  have  preferred 
to  take  from  more  accessible  places  and  from  artists 
whose  names  are  more  familiar.  They  are  not,  indeed, 
men  of  the  very  highest  rank.  But  they  are  men  of 
distinctive  quality  in  the  second  rank.  They  have  the 
individuality  of  genius,  the  power  of  giving  a  peculiar 
and  personal  pleasure  in  their  work  which  we  cannot 
fail  to  recognize  as  theirs  and  theirs  alone.  I  think  we 
should  not  forget  or  underrate  the  place  which  these 
secondary  artists  have  in  the  ministry  of  every  art. 
Dante  and  Shakespeare  and  Goethe  are  great  names ; 
but  the  sonnets  of  Petrarch  and  the  lyrics  of  Shelley 
and  the  songs  of  Heine  are  perfect  of  their  kind.  And 
so  I  think  that  each  of  these  nine  artists,  whose  con- 
ceptions of  the  Annunciation  we  are  to  study  here, 
has  his  own  value,  and  has  added  something  to  the 
interpretation  of  this  sweet  and  simple  theme. 

Look,  first  of  all,  at  the  relief  by  Lorenzo  Ghiberti. 
It  is  a  panel  in  one  of  the  northern  doors  of  the  Bap- 
tistery in  Florence.  They  were  made  before  the  fa- 
mous "  Gates  of  Paradise  "  on  the  eastern  side,  and  are 
far  less  rich  and  elaborate  than  those  unrivalled  por- 
tals. But  what  they  lack  in  finish,  in  picturesqueness, 
in  abundance  of  detail  and  wealth  of  imagination,  they 
gain  in  simplicity,  in  directness,  and  in  nobility.  These 
northern  doors,  in  fact,  were  made  before  Ghiberti  be- 
gan to  be  "a  painter  in  bronze,"  and  the  twenty -one 


22  THE    CHRIST-CHILD   IN    ART 

years  of  labour  that  he  spent  upon  them  were  confined 
to  efforts  which  belong  properly  and  strictly  within  the 
limits  of  sculpture  in  relief.  This  representation  of 
the  Annunciation  is  one  of  the  simplest  and  noblest 
of  the  panels.  The  distinct  and  unmistakable  note  in 
it  is  the  swiftness  of  a  joyful  surprise.  The  angel 
sweeps  forward  with  a  buoyant  motion,  his  garment 
lifted  by  the  wind  of  his  flight.  The  holy  dove  flies 
like  an  arrow  towards  the  Virgin's  breast.  Her  slen- 
der figure  shrinks  and  sways  with  wonder  as  she  lifts 
her  hand,  half  to  ward,  and  half  to  welcome,  the  mes- 
sage. Timidity  and  joy  blend  in  her  aspect.  The 
event  is  isolated  from  all  surroundings.  It  might  be 
anywhere.     It  is  womanhood  visited  by  God. 

Turn  from  this  to  Donatello's  sculpture  in  the 
Church  of  S.  Croce,  and  see  how  the  difference  of 
individual  character  comes  out  in  the  work  of  two  men 
dealing  with  the  same  subject,  in  the  same  age,  and 
under  the  same  influences.  Donatello's  relief  is  cut  in 
a  fine  gray  sandstone  which  is  called  pietra  sercna,  and 
stands  in  a  beautiful  tabernacle  against  the  southern 
wall  of  the  church.  The  ornamentation  of  the  back- 
ground, the  hair  of  the  Virgin  and  the  angels,  and 
the  borders  of  their  robes  are  gilded.  This  gives  a 
strange  impression  of  life -likeness  to  the  figures  which 
I  know  not  how  to  explain.  Moreover,  the  artist  has 
breathed  the  very  spirit  of  the  Renaissance  into  his 
work  —  that  subtle  expressiveness  which  seems  to  catch 
the  shadow  of  a  thought  as  it  passes  over  the  face, 
and  to  suggest  the  intensity  of  a  feeling  in  a  turn  of 
the  neck,  in  the  bending  of  an  arm.     Donatello's  con- 


THE    ANNUNCIATION  23 

ception  of  the  theme  has  gone  on  beyond  Ghiberti's. 
It  is  not  so  much  the  dramatic  surprise  of  the  an- 
gel's visit  that  impresses  him ;  it  is  rather  the  won- 
derful nature  of  the  interview  between  Mary  and  the 
angel  that  he  wishes  to  depict.  To  each  figure  he 
would  give  the  true,  the  characteristic  emotion,  yet 
without  fixing  it  in  hard  outline,  so  that  it  would 
seem  exaggerated  and  theatrical,  but  in  delicate,  sink- 
ing lines  which  appear  to  be  caught  almost  as  they  are 
vanishing.  He  has  thought  of  the  angel's  admiration 
for  her  to  whom  he  brings  such  a  message.  It  is  ex- 
pressed in  the  very  curve  of  Gabriel's  body,  in  the 
upward  glance  of  his  face,  in  the  arms  held  back  as 
if  he  did  not  dare  to  touch  her  whom  he  so  reveres 
and  loves.  And  Mary's  face  and  attitude,  with  all  the 
beauty  of  antique  sculpture,  are  tinged  also  with  a 
sentiment  of  responsiveness,  of  gentle  courtesy,  a  spirit 
lowly  and  grateful,  yet  not  afraid,  which  belongs  only 
to  the  Christian  ideal.  She  has  risen  from  the  seat 
where  she  was  reading,  and  turns  to  hear  the  angel's 
message.  There  are  none  of  the  usual  mystical  sym- 
bols of  the  Annunciation,  not  even  the  dove.  Nothing 
distracts  our  attention  from  the  conversation  between 
Gabriel  and  Mary.  It  is  a  lyric  with  two  parts  in  it, 
in  which  the  one  answers  to  the  other  perfectly,  and 
the  rhythm  would  be  lost  if  either  were  omitted. 

Fra  Giovanni  da  Fiesole,  surnamed  Angelico,  found 
in  the  Annunciation  a  favourite  theme,  suited  to  the 
unsullied  purity  of  his  spirit;  and  he  has  painted  it 
many  times  with  perfect  delicacy  and  ideal  truth.  One 
of  the  best  of  these  paintings  is  in  the    Baptistery  at 


24  THE   CHRIST-CHILD  IN   ART 

Cortona.  Turning  from  the  bare  grass -grown  piazza 
of  the  cathedral,  with  its  splendid  view  over  the  Val 
di  Chiama,  into  the  dingy  little  building,  you  see  this 
exquisite  panel  hanging  above  a  tawdry  altar  on  the 
right  hand  wall.  The  Virgin  is  seated  beneath  a  porch 
of  white  marble.  Her  dress  is  simple  in  its  form ;  but 
the  clear,  bright  colours  of  the  red  gown,  and  the  blue 
robe  with  its  green  lining  set  off  the  fairness  of  her 
face,  her  hair  of  red  gold,  and  her  hazel  eyes.  A  book 
lies  open  on  her  knees  to  show  that  she  has  been  read- 
ing. There  is  a  gold  ring  on  the  third  finger  of  her 
left  hand  to  show  that  she  is  espoused.  She  bends 
forward,  with  hands  folded  across  her  breast,  to  greet 
the  angel  —  an  image  of  meekness,  of  quiet  happiness, 
of  maidenly  purity.  Gabriel  is  clothed  in  a  garment 
of  heliotrope  lavishly  adorned  with  gold,  and  embroid- 
ered with  many  colored  jewels.  His  hair  is  like  the 
hue  of  ripe  wheat  when  the  sun  shines  through  it, 
and  his  long  golden  wings  are  tipped  with  red,  and 
covered  with  many  eyes.  A  tongue  of  fire  plays  above 
his  forehead.  He  runs  swiftly  beneath  the  porch,  shin- 
ing with  delight  so  great  that  little  rays  of  splendour 
dazzle  from  his  whole  body.  He  bears  no  wand,  nor 
branch  of  Hlies.  It  seems  as  if  he  had  come  in  too 
great  haste  to  stay  for  them.  There  is  a  childlike 
eagerness  in  his  face,  and  in  the  gesture  of  his  hands, 
the  right  pointing  to  Mary,  and  the  left  directed  up- 
ward. Behind  him  lies  a  slope  of  greensward  sprinkled 
with  flowers,  and  at  the  top  of  it  we  see,  as  in  a  vision, 
the  fiery-sworded  angel  driving  Adam  and  Eve  from 
the  lost  Paradise.     How  different  is  Gabriel's  mission 


THE    ANNUxNCIATION  —  SANDRO    BOTTICELLI 
From  a  painting  in  the  Uffizi,  Florence 


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THE    ANNUNCIATION  2/ 

now — to  announce  a  Paradise  regained!  This  is  the 
thought  that  Fra  Angelico  has  felt  and  expressed  in  his 
picture — the  thought  of  a  great  and  innocent  happi- 
ness. The  Annunciation  was  a  message  so  joyful  that 
the  most  resplendent  of  all  the  archangels  might  well 
be  glad  and  make  haste  eagerly  to  carry  it  to  the  lowly 
maid  of  Nazareth. 

The  naivete  of  this  picture  Is  altogether  charming. 
But  when  we  turn  from  it  to  look  at  the  small  tab- 
leau by  Fra  Filippo  Lippi,  which  hangs  in  the  Nation- 
al Gallery  at  London,  we  feel  that  the  childlike  spirit 
of  the  Angelican  school  has  lost  something  of  its  first 
freshness  and  naturalness.  It  has  now  a  touch  of  con- 
scious artifice.  Fra  Filippo  was  the  painter  of  sacred 
genre;  and  he  has  translated  the  story  of  the  Annun- 
ciation into  language  so  light  and  easy  that  it  seems 
almost  playful.  There  is  an  irresponsible  air  about 
this  young  angel,  in  his  white  dress,  with  collar  and 
wristband,  and  breastplate  of  dark  blue,  who  has  step- 
ped aside  from  the  garden  path  to  kneel  on  the  grass, 
with  the  branch  of  lilies  over  his  shoulder.  There  is  a 
gleam  of  roguishness  in  his  demure  eyes ;  he  is  not 
unlike  a  celestial  choir-boy.  The  Virgin  is  seated  on 
a  terrace  in  front  of  her  bedchamber  which  opens  to 
the  garden.  Through  the  doorway  you  see  the  bed 
with  its  damask  coverlet;  and  in  a  vase,  in  front  of 
her,  a  bunch  of  lilies  is  growing.  Her  dress  is  of  pale 
pink  and  blue ;  her  features  are  small  and  inexpress- 
ive. She  is  looking  down  at  the  dove  which  flies  tow- 
ards her  lap,  leaving  behind  it  a  succession  of  rings 
of  vanishing    fire,  like    circles    in   the  water,  growing 


28  THE  CHRIST-CHILD    IN    ART 

larger  and  fainter,  until  they  almost  reach  the  hand 
at  the  top  of  the  picture  —  as  if  each  pulsation  of  the 
heavenly  wings  sent  a  halo  of  light  quivering  through 
the  air.  This  fancy  is  not  without  beauty.  For  the 
rest,  the  picture  has  a  certain  grace,  but  it  is  all  the 
grace  of  this  world,  and  the  figures  bear  too  clearly  the 
impress  of  the  models  from  whom  they  were  drawn. 

In  Sandro  Botticelli  we  have  a  painter  of  the  same 
age  and  race,  but  of  a  very  different  temperament.  It 
is  said  that  he  was  the  pupil  of  Fra  Filippo  Lippi ;  if 
so,  he  learned  some  things  that  his  master  could  never 
have  taught  him.  He  was  a  student  of  psychological 
problems,  of  conflicting  emotions  and  strange  thoughts, 
divided  between  heaven  and  earth.  Familiar  with  the 
classic  beauty  of  pagan  art,  and  feeling  it  profoundly, 
he  was  yet  most  unclassical  in  all  his  work.  For  in 
his  pictures  nothing  is  fixed  and  quiet.  A  mystical 
air  stirs  in  his  draperies ;  a  mystical  passion  breathes 
from  his  faces.  He  has  caught  them  in  a  moment 
of  transition,  while  the  past  fades  and  the  future  still 
is  dim.  Yet  all  this  movement  and  flow  and  conflict 
of  his  art  is  without  violence ;  it  is  quiet,  inward,  inev- 
itable. There  is  far  more  of  yielding  in  it  than  of 
struggle.  With  him  love  is  often  weary  and  joy  often 
sorrowful.  I  think  his  picture  of  the  Annunciation  is 
very  characteristic  and  deep. 

The  strong  squares  of  red  and  white  in  the  marble 
floor,  and  the  formal  landscape  seen  through  the  open 
doorway,  suggest  the  fixity,  the  indifference  of  the 
outward  world.  It  is  one  of  those  silent,  sultry  noons 
when  nature  seems  to  be  absolutely  motionless  in  the 


THE    ANNUNCIATION  —  FRANCESCO    FRANCIA 
From  a  painting  in  the  Brera,  Milan 


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THE    ANNUNCIATION  31 

heat.  The  angel  has  come  down  unnoticed ;  his  crim- 
son robe,  girded  up  about  him  as  if  for  a  journey,  still 
flutters  a  little  as  he  kneels,  almost  crouches,  upon  the 
pavement.  His  eyes  are  full  of  reverence;  his  mouth 
is  sad ;  it  seems  to  tremble  with  pity.  The  Virgin 
turns  from  the  desk  at  which  she  has  been  reading; 
she  is  perturbed  and  overwhelmed  by  the  mysterious 
tidings.  Her  face  is  plaintive  and  her  heavy- lidded 
eyes  are  downcast.  She  seems  to  be  near  fainting  as 
she  bends  towards  the  angel  with  out-stretched  arms, 
the  hands  bending  backward  from  the  wrists,  as  if 
beseeching  him  to  depart  from  her.  The  picture  is 
full  of  profound  emotion ;  it  tells  us  at  least  one  truth 
in  regard  to  the  Annunciation  which  many  of  the 
painters  have  forgotten  ;  it  reminds  us  that  Gabriel  had 
need  to  comfort  the  Virgin  with  the  words  "  Fear  not !" 
In  Francesco  Francia's  picture,  in  the  Brera  at 
Milan,  there  is  none  of  this  intense  emotional  realism. 
The  scene  is  laid  apparently  in  the  porch  of  the 
Temple.  The  atmosphere  is  cool,  clear,  tranquil ;  it  is 
evidently  the  hour  of  evening  twilight,  in  which  the  bell 
called  the  Angelus  still  rings  in  memory  of  Gabriel's 
visit.  The  landscape  is  harmonized  with  the  painter's 
mood ;  so  still  is  it  that  the  little  lake  in  the  distance 
reflects  the  encircling  trees  as  a  mirror.  The  angel, 
in  glistering  white,  bearing  a  branch  with  three  lilies, 
has  come  gently;  and  without  effort  he  calls.  Mary 
half  turns  from  the  Temple  door  to  listen.  I  do  not 
know  whether  she  sees  him.  But  surely  she  hears 
with  quiet  and  peaceful  awe,  and  her  attitude,  with 
that  slight  drooping  of  the  head  which  Perugino  gives 


32  THE    CHRIST-CHILD    IN    ART 

to  his  saints,  is  maidenly  and  gracious.  It  is  an  idyllic 
Annunciation.  The  words  of  an  English  poet  seem 
to  be  addressed  to  such  a  virgin : 

"Mind'st  thou  not  (when  June's  heavy  breath 
Warmed  the  long  days  in  Nazareth) 
That  eve  thou  did'st  go  forth  to  give 
Thy  flowers  some  drink,  that  they  might  live 
One  faint  night  more  amid  the  sands? 
Far  off  the  trees  were  as  pale  wands 
Against  the  fervid  sky ;  the  sea 
Sighed  farther  off  eternally, 
As  human  sorrow  sighs  in  sleep. 
Then  suddenly  the  awe  grew  deep, 
As  of  a  day  to  which  all  days 
Were  footsteps  in  God's  secret  ways; 
Until  a  folding  sense,  like  prayer, 
Which  is,  as  God  is,  everywhere. 
Gathered  about  thee ;   and  a  voice 
Spake  to  thee  without  any  noise, 
Being  of  the  silence : — '  Hail,'  it  said, 
*Thou  that  art  highly  favourM; 
The  Lord  is  with  thee  here  and  now; 
Blessed  among  all  women  thou.' " 

It  is  not  another  spirit,  but  only  another  mode  of 
expressing  the  same  spirit,  which  characterizes  the 
quaint  Flemish  Annunciation  assigned  to  Roger  van 
der  Weyden,  though  I  know  not  whether  he  painted 
it.  It  makes  little  difference ;  a  dozen  men  of  the  same 
school  could,  and  would,  have  given  it  the  same  mean- 
ing. The  note  of  distinction  here,  as  in  Francia's 
picture,  is  serenity.  But  now  it  is  serenity  of  a  more 
homely  type.     Mary  is   grave   and  sedate,  a  thought- 


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THE    ANNUNCIATION  35 

ful  maiden,  reading  and  praying  in  her  bedchamber. 
It  is  early  morning,  and  the  soft  light  streams  through 
the  open  window  across  the  bed  with  its  smooth  cover- 
let and  neatly  gathered  curtains.  A  lily  is  growing  in 
a  pitcher,  and  has  pushed  open  the  lid.  Gabriel,  dis- 
creetly robed  in  white,  stands  behind  the  Virgin  and 
speaks  to  her.  He  looks  somewhat  heavy,  as  if  flight 
might  be  difficult  to  him,  but  his  aspect  is  very  benig- 
nant. He  is  such  an  angel  as  such  a  virgin  would 
have  liked  to  see.  There  is  no  fear  on  her  face  as 
she  listens,  only  the  faint  suggestion  of  a  smile  about 
her  lips.  It  is  a  placid  picture,  full  of  the  peace  of 
home  and  the  delight  of  meditation. 

Andrea  del  Sarto,  called  "  the  faultless  painter,"  rep- 
resents the  golden  age  of  Italian  art.  As  a  craftsman 
he  stood  in  the  first  rank.  In  sure  and  skilful  drawing, 
in  symmetrical  composition,  in  the  smooth  harmony 
of  colour,  he  was  a  master.  But  Andrea  always  lacked 
a  certain  fibre  of  complete  and  essential  greatness.  He 
could  execute  with  perfection,  but  he  could  not  con- 
ceive with  sublimity.  His  style  was  finer  than  his 
thought.  I  think  we  feel  this  in  his  picture  of  the 
Annunciation,  which  is  in  the  Pitti  Palace  at  Florence. 
It  is  technically  a  beautiful  piece  of  work.  Nothing- 
could  be  better  than  the  poise  of  the  figures,  the  speak- 
ing grace  of  the  angel's  face  and  hand,  the  delicate 
design  of  the  reading-desk  in  the  centre  and  the  lofty 
portico  in  the  distance.  But  there  is  a  sensation  of 
discord  when  we  see  David  bending  from  the  portico 
to  look  at  Bathsheba.  That  which  completes  the  back- 
ground  spoils  the    subject.      Nor  does   the   Madonna 


36  THE    CHRIST-CHILD    IN    ART 

satisfy  us ;  she  is  too  evidently  that  Lucrezia  Buti, 
whose  fair  face  was  but  the  mask  for  a  sordid  spirit. 
The  one  thing  that  redeems  the  picture  is  the  love- 
liness of  Gabriel,  a  shape  of  immortal  youth.  It  is  like 
that  sculpture  which  Dante  saw  in  the  Purgatorio: 

*'  L' Angel,  che  venne  in  terra  col  decreto 
Delia  molt'  anni  lagrimata  pace, 
Ch'aperse  il  Ciel  dal  suo  lungo  divieto, 
Dinanzi  a  noi  pareva  si  verace 
Quivi  intagliato  in  un  atto  soave, 
Che  non  Sembiava  imagine  che  tace. 
Giurato  si  saria  ch'ei  dicess'  Ave.'" 

Of  modern  pictures  of  the  Annunciation  there  are 
but  few.  Bouguereau's  painting  in  the  Church  of  St. 
Vincent  de  Paul,  in  Paris,  has  a  superficial  prettiness, 
but  it  is  utterly  and  irredeemably  commonplace.  There 
is  an  Annunciation  by  Burne-Jones  which  has  all  the 
charm  of  his  subtle  drawing  and  colour;  but  he  has 
made  it  an  echo  of  Florence  in  the  fifteenth  century. 
It  was  natural  enough  for  the  Florentines  to  set  the 
scene  amid  Renaissance  architecture  and  give  the  fig- 
ures an  Italian  aspect;  they  did  it  spontaneously  and 
without  reflection.  But  for  an  English  painter  of  this 
age  to  revert  purposely  to  that  type  savours  so  much 
of  artifice  that  it  makes  his  work  seem  unreal  and 
insincere. 

I  know  of  but  one  significant  and  noble  painting  of 
the  Annunciation  in  our  century,  and  that  is  Rossetti's 
Ecce  AncilLa  Domini,  in  the  National  Gallery  at  Lon- 
don.    The   picture,  as    one  looks   at    it  for   the   first 


THE     ANNQNCIATION ANDREA     DEL     SARTO 

From  a  painting  in  the  Pitti  Palace,  Florence 


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THE    ANNUNCIATION  39 

time,  appears  dreamlike  in  the  strange  beauty  of  its 
colour;  it  is  a  lily  of  white  and  gold,  but  with  infi- 
nite gradations  and  shadows  of  light  trembling  through 
the  hue  of  purity  and  the  hue  of  love.  All  this  is 
lost  in  the  engraving;  and  yet  it  is  still  possible  to 
feel  something  of  the  penetrating  sweetness  of  the 
picture's  conception.  The  poet.-painter  has  chosen  a 
mo/if  which  art  has  hitherto  neglected.  He  thinks  of 
the  Annunciation  as  coming,  like  so  many  other  an- 
gelic visits,  in  a  dream.  The  time  is  the  border- land 
between  sleeping  and  waking,  the  visionary  hour  of 
early  morning.  The  pale  flame  of  the  night-lamp  is 
about  to  expire ;  the  cool  light  of  dawn  shines  through 
the  window.  The  strong  Gabriel  appears  in  the  aspect 
of  one  of  those  of  whom  it  is  written,  "  He  maketh 
His  angels  spirits.  His  ministers  a  flame  of  fire,"  and 
the  very  air  kindles  at  his  feet  into  aureate  flames. 
Mary  is  fair  and  delicate,  pulchra  ut  luna,  electa  ut  sol. 
She  has  just  awakened;  half -rising  from  her  virgin 
couch,  she  is  not  looking  at  the  angel;  she  does  not 
see  him ;  her  eyes  are  fixed  as  in  a  dream,  and  she 
whispers,  wondering,  "  How  shall  this  be  ?"  Her  spir- 
itual loveliness  is  best  described  in  Rossetti's  own 
sonnet : 

"This  is  that  blessed  Mary,  pre-elect 

God's  Virgin.     Gone  is  a  great  while,  and  she 

Dwelt  young  in  Nazareth  of  Galilee. 
Unto  God's  will  she  brought  devout  respect, 
Profound  simplicity  of  intellect. 

And  supreme  patience.     From  her  mother's  knee 

Faithful  and  hopeful,  wise  in  charity, 


40  THE    CHRIST-CHILD   IN    ART 

Strong  in  grave  peace,  in  pity  circumspect. 
So  held  she  through  her  girlhood,  as  it  were, 
An  angel-watered  lily,  that  near  God 
Grows  and  is  quiet.     Till  one  dawn  at  home 
She  woke  in  her  white  bed,  and  had  no  fear 
At  all,  yet  wept  till  sunshine,  and  felt  awed, 
Because  the  fulness  of  the  time  was  come." 


IV 


What  thought,  then,  shall  we  bring  from  our  study 
of  these  Annunciation  pictures  ?  They  are  only  notes 
in  the  prelude  to  our  real  theme;  but  even  the  prelude 
is  not  to  be  forgotten  in  the  larger  music;  its  sug- 
gestions are  taken  up  and  unfolded;  its  melody  is 
woven  into  the  larger  harmony;  it  colours  and  influ- 
ences all  that  comes  after  it.  And  if  our  study  thus 
far  has  been  a  real  interpretation,  it  will  give  us  some- 
thing, an  impression,  a  sentiment,  a  vital  thought, 
which  will  go  onward  with  us  into  the  story  of  Beth- 
lehem and  the  scenes  of  Jesus's  childhood. 

Surely  this  impression  can  be  nothing  else  than  a 
sense  of  the  beauty  and  simplicity  of  the  faith  with 
which  Mary  received  the  revelation  that  came  to  her 
from  on  high  and  called  her  to  perfect  and  immaculate 
motherhood.  If  the  angel  could  say  "  Hail !"  to  her, 
and  call  her  blessed,  we  may  well  do  her  reverence, 
and  love  her  with  honour  above  all  other  daughters 
of  Eve.  Could  the  promise  of  the  divine  birth  at 
Bethlehem  ever  have  been  fulfilled  unless   there  had 


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THE    ANNUNCIATION  43 

been  such  a  mother,  so  pure,  so  reverent,  so  conse- 
crated to  her  mission,  to  carry  the  holy  child  beneath 
her  heart  and  nurse  Him  in  her  arms  ? 

Christmas  is  truly  the  festival  of  childhood ;  but  it 
should  also  be  the  festival  of  motherhood,  for  the 
child,  even  the  holiest,  is  not  divided  from  the  mother. 
We  may  learn  to  think  of  infancy  as  sacred  in  the 
light  that  flows  from  the  manger- cradle  of  Jesus.  Yet 
it  seems  to  me  we  cannot  receive  that  truth  perfectly 
unless  we  first  learn  to  think  of  motherhood  as  holy 
in  the  memory  of  her  whose  virginal  and  stainless  love 
found  favour  with  God  to  receive  and  guard  and  cher- 
ish the  Son  of  the  Highest. 


THE  NATIVITY 


O  blessed  day  which  giv'st  the  eternal  lie 

To  self,  and  sense,  and  all  the  brute  within ^ 

Oh  !  come  to  us  amid  this  war  of  life ; 

To  hall  and  hovel  come !  to  all  who  toil 

In  senate,  shop,  or  study!   and  to  those 

Ill-warned  and  sorely  tempted — 

Come  to  them,  blest  and  blessing,  Christmas  Day! 

Tell  them  once  more  the  tale  of  Bethlehem, 

The  kneeling  shepherds,  and  the  Babe  Divine; 

And  keep  them  men  indeed,  fair  Christmas  Day! 

Charles  Kingsley. 


9tn5  it  came  to  pass  in  t^ast  Haps,  t^ut  tfjere  tocnt  out  a 
Bccree  from  (JDeear  auffustuB,  tijat  all  t[)e  tDorli  e^onlH  be 
taj^eU. 

3lni  tl)is  tarns  teas  first  niaJe  toljen  Cprenius  toas  pto^ 
ernor  of  ^pria. 

SlnlJ  all  toent  to  be  ta;:ea,  etoerp  one  into  Us  oton  citp. 

aini  3roEiepl)  also  toent  op  from  (Salilee,  out  of  t!)e  citp  of 
jQa^aretf),  into  STttUea,  unto  t\)t  citp  of  ^atiii,  iDJ)icJ)  is  callell 
!Bet5lei)em  (becauBe  ^e  teas  of  t^e  i)otiBe  an!  lineaje  of 
£)ai)ili), 

®o  be  tapeU  toitl^  JHarp  j^ie  efipoufieU  toife,  beinj  jrcat 
\oitl)  cbim. 

ani  60  it  teas,  tdat,  to()ile  tijep  toere  t()ere,  tjie  Uaps  toere 
accomplisbcU  tljat  s\ft  fibonli  be  JeliUereli. 

anH  6be  brooffbt  fortb  |)er  firstborn  eon,  anl  torappcU  btm 
in  Btoamitnff  tlat^s,  anir  laiii  |[)im  in  a  manner ;  becanae 
tbere  toas  no  room  for  tlftm  in  tljt  inn. 

^nU  t|)ere  iuere  in  tbe  game  countrp  ebepjjerJifi  abiUing:  in 
tftt  fielU,  feeeping:  matcl^  ober  tijeir  flocfe  bp  nijbt. 

ana,  lo,  ti)t  anffel  of  tbe  torli  came  upon  tjjem,  anU  t!)e 
fflorp  of  t1)t  lorli  B()one  ronnB  about  ti)cm ;  anJ  t()ep  toere 
Bore  afraii. 

anJ  tbe  anffel  saili  unto  tbem,  jFear  not :  for,  be^olU,  3" 
bring:  pou  poa  tHiing:6  of  g;reat  iop,  to()icj)  Bjjall  be  to  all 
people. 

jFor  unto  pou  is  bom  tj^is  lap  in  t^e  citp  of  DaPiU  a 
^abiour,  tolfitl  is  €^ljvist  t()e  lorH. 

9lnU  tbiB  Bjjall  be  a  Big:n  unto  pou ;  ge  Bl)all  Cnti  t()e  babe 
torappeti  in  Btoatiming:  clotfjee,  Iping;  in  a  mang:er. 

anU  BuJJenlp  tfjere  toaB  laiti)  ti)t  ang:el  a  multituie  of 
t()e  beaijenip  boBt  praising;  ®oB,  anU  Bapinf, 

(Slorp  to  <3ati  in  tbc  ()ig;I)eBt,  anti  on  eartb  peace,  gfooll 
tuill  totoarti  men. 

Inli  it  came  to  pass,  as  tbe  ang:el6  toere  g:one  atoap  from 
tbem  into  bcaben,  tbe  sbepberis  saiti  one  to  anotj)er,  let  ub 
note  ffo  epen  unto  -^Setblebem,  anU  see  tUa  t\)ins  tobicb  is 
come  to  pass,  toj)icb  tbe  lorli  batb  maie  linoton  unto  ua, 

SlnU  t()ep  came  toitb  baste,  anJ  founU  ;|Jtarp  an5  SToBepj^, 
antJ  tbe  babe  Iping;  in  a  mang;er. — St.  Luke,  ii.  1-16. 


VDuMohcl  '92 


I 


HE  birth  of  Jesus  is  the  sunrise  of  the  Bible. 
Towards  this  point  the  aspirations  of  the 
prophets  and  the  poems  of  the  psalmists 
were  directed  as  the  heads  of  flowers  are  turned  tow- 
ards the  dawn.  From  this  point  a  new  day  began  to 
flow  very  silently  over  the  world — a  day  of  faith  and 
freedom,  a  day  of  hope  and  love.  When  we  remember 
the  high  meaning  that  has  come  into  human  life  and 
the  clear  light  that  has  flooded  softly  down  from  the 
manger -cradle  in  Bethlehem  of  Judea,  we  do  not  won- 
der that  mankind  has  learned  to  reckon  history  from 
the  birthday  of  Jesus,  and  to  date  all  events  by  the 
years  before  or  after  the  Nativity  of  Christ. 

But  it  is  a  strange  thing,  and  one  which  seems  at 
first  almost  incredible,  that  the  unconscious  evidence 
of  art  does  not  reveal  a  very  profound  impression  of 
the  Nativity  upon  the  mind  of  the  early  Church.  Many 
careless  writers,  whose  sentiment  of  what  ought  to  be 
is  stronger  than  their  knowledge  of  what  really  is,  have 


48  THE   CHRIST- CHILD   IN    ART 

spoken  of  it  as  the  first  and  favourite  theme  of  Chris- 
tian art.  But  in  fact  it  does  not  appear  in  any  form 
until  the  fourth  century;  it  is  represented  less  fre- 
quently than  many  other  subjects  from  the  Old  and 
New  Testaments;  and  it  does  not  really  assume  a  prom- 
inent and  central  place  in  art  until  the  thirteenth 
century. 

What  are  the  reasons  of  this?  —  for  reasons  there 
must  be.  An  individual  may  suppress  or  divert  the 
play  of  his  feelings  according  to  rule  or  whim.  He 
may  exalt  or  depress  an  event  in  his  imagination,  he 
may  choose  or  refuse  to  picture  it  with  his  mind  or 
his  hand,  for  purposes  which  are  artificial  and  pre- 
meditated. But  a  community,  a  generation  of  men,  is 
more  natural  and  naive.  Its  legends,  its  literature,  and, 
above  all,  its  art,  inevitably  betray  its  inmost  thought 
and  feeling.  If  the  Nativity  is  pictured  but  rarely  in 
early  Christian  art,  it  is  simply  because  the  early  Chris- 
tians did  not  at  first  fully  realize  the  great  and  beauti- 
ful meaning  of  the  Nativity  in  its  relation  to  the  whole 
life  of  Christ,  and,  indeed,  to  all  human  lives. 

I  do  not  imagine  for  a  moment  that  there  was  any- 
thing defective  in  the  faith  of  the  primitive  Church,  or 
that  she  ever  doubted  or  denied  the  truth  concerning 
the  birth  of  Jesus.  From  the  beginning  she  was  in 
possession  of  the  whole  truth,  but  it  unfolded  slowly  in 
her  consciousness,  and  the  true  significance  of  it  was 
gradually  made  plain.  This  is  the  way  of  God  in  His 
world.  Christianity  is  perfect  and  complete,  and  has 
been  so  ever  since  it  was  embodied  in  the  life  of  Christ. 
Every  one  who  has  Christ  in  his  heart  has  the  whole  of 


IL    rRESF.riO GIOTTO 

From  a  fresco  in  tlie  Chapel  of  the  Arena,  Padua 


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THE    NATIVITY  51 

it ;  nothing  can  be  added,  nothing  can  be  taken  away. 
But  the  understanding  of  it,  the  living  sense  of  what  it 
means,  comes  only  by  degrees,  to  different  men  and  to 
different  ages.  Even  yet,  as  we  gladly  believe,  the 
Church  has  much  undiscovered  country  and  many  hid- 
den treasures  in  that  territory  of  truth  which  she  has 
possessed  from  the  beginning.  And  in  the  first  centu- 
ries it  is  not  difficult  to  see,  if  we  will  take  the  pains  to 
think  about  it,  how  and  why  the  Nativity  did  not  re- 
ceive as  profound  attention  as  other  events  in  the  his- 
tory of  Jesus. 

Probably  the  first  reason  was  the  predominant  influ- 
ence of  the  resurrection  on  the  thought  of  the  early 
Christians.  It  dimmed,  for  a  time,  all  other  facts  in  the 
dazzling  blaze  of  its  glory.  This  was  for  them  incom- 
parably the  greatest  event  in  the  history  of  Christ, 
because  it  was  the  pledge  and  proof  not  only  of  his 
Messiahship,  but  also  of  their  own  immortality.  His 
crucifixion  was  inseparably  connected  with  it,  as  the 
consummation  of  his  redeeming  work.  The  entire 
history  of  salvation  was  summed  up  for  them  in  the 
words  "  He  died  for  our  sins  and  rose  again  for  our 
justification."  They  did  not  feel  any  pressing  need  of 
looking  beyond  this  to  inquire  how  Christ  came  into 
the  world,  or  what  connection  there  was  between  his 
birth  and  his  atoning  death.  It  was  enough  for  them 
that  He  was  there,  that  He  had  been  crucified  and 
raised  again  for  the  world's  redemption ;  and  there- 
fore they  were  content  to  centre  their  thought  and 
feeling  upon  the  festival  of  Easter,  in  which  these 
two  great  events  were  commemorated. 


52  THE   CHRIST-CHILD    IN    ART 

Possibly  another  cause  which  may  have  overshad- 
owed, at  first,  the  gentle  radiance  of  the  Nativity  was  the 
fact  that  all  of  the  apostles,  and  many  of  the  other  disci- 
ples, had  seen  Christ  in  his  resurrection  glory;  but  none 
of  them  had  looked  upon  Him  as  a  helpless  babe  in  the 
cradle.  Especially  the  controlling  mind  of  St.  Paul  was 
filled  with  the  memory  of  the  form  in  which  he  had  seen 
the  Christ  —  that  form  of  splendour  shining  above  the 
brightness  of  the  Syrian  noon — and  dwelt  naturally 
upon  the  vision  of  divine  majesty  rather  than  upon 
the  lowly  picture  of  human  infancy.  The  epistles  were 
written  before  the  gospels ;  and  of  the  gospels  only 
one  lingers  with  tender  emotion  upon  the  details  of 
the  birth  in  Bethlehem.  The  thoughts  of  the  early 
Christians  were  engaged  more  constantly  with  the  ce- 
lestial glory  of  their  Lord  than  with  his  earthly  humili- 
ation. They  found  their  strength  and  comfort  amid 
the  trials  of  life  in  thinking  of  his  Divinity,  of  his  ex- 
alted state,  of  his  sovereign  power,  and  of  his  second 
coming  in  majesty,  which  they  expected  soon.  Com- 
pared with  these  ideas  the  thought  of  his  humanity 
may  perhaps  have  seemed  less  precious,  less  important 
to  them.  It  is  impossible  to  make  any  positive  or  defi- 
nite statement  on  a  subject  so  vague,  and  so  much  en- 
veloped in  uncertainty.  But  one  thing  at  least  is  very 
significant :  the  earliest  form  of  error  that  arose  in  the 
Church  denied  Christ's  true  manhood,  and  taught  that 
his  outward  form  was  an  illusion — a  mask  of  humanity 
in  which  the  Son  of  God  was  disguised. 

This  was  not  unnatural,  for  we  must  remember  that 
humanity  was  not  very  humane  to  the  early  Christians. 


THE    NATIVITY  53 

This  world  was  a  bard  home  to  them.  Indeed,  it  was 
not  a  home  at  all ;  they  did  not  regard  it  as  one.  They 
were  oppressed  and  persecuted  and  martyred,  alike  by 
Jews  and  by  pagans.  It  was  no  benefit  to  them  to  be 
born.  To  die  was  their  true  escape  and  felicity.  And 
so  it  came  to  pass  naturally  that  they  lived  much  in 
the  heavenly  future,  despising  the  present  life,  and 
celebrating  the  martyrs'  death -days  as  their  true  birth- 
days. Thus  the  great  Origen,  in  a  homily  on  Le- 
viticus, xii.  2,  assured  his  hearers  that  "  none  of  the 
saints  can  be  found  who  ever  held  a  feast  or  a  ban- 
quet upon  his  birthday,  or  rejoiced  on  the  day  when 
his  son  or  his  daughter  was  born.  But  sinners  rejoice 
and  make  merry  on  such  days.  For  we  find  in  the  Old 
Testament  that  Pharaoh,  King  of  Egypt,  celebrated  his 
birthday  with  a  feast,  and  that  Herod,  in  the  New  Tes- 
tament, did  the  same.  But  the  saints  not  only  neglect 
to  mark  the  day  of  their  birth  with  festivity,  but  also, 
filled  with  the  Holy  Ghost,  they  curse  this  day,  after 
the  example  of  Job  and  Jeremiah  and  David."  While 
the  leading  teacher  of  the  Church  was  preaching  after 
this  wise,  we  can  hardly  expect  to  find  the  Christians 
thinking  much  about  the  Nativity,  or  dreaming  of  a 
celebration  of  Christmas. 

I  do  not  mean  to  assert  that  this  was  the  universal 
and  unbroken  condition  of  thought  and  feeling  in  the 
Church  during  the  first  three  centuries.  There  were 
some  men,  in  advance  of  their  age,  who  had  learned  to 
think  of  the  whole  life  of  Christ  in  its  unity  as  a  life 
for  and  with  man.  Irenseus,  in  particular,  is  worthy  of 
special  mention  and  enduring  honour  as  the  first  of  the 


54    '  THE    CHRIST- CHILD    IN    ART 

fathers  to  bring  out  the  unfolding  of  all  the  stages  of 
human  life  in  Jesus  Christ;  and  even  though  he  had 
never  written  another  word  than  this,  he  deserves  to  be 
immortal  in  the  memory  of  the  Church  for  having  said, 
"  He  therefore  passed  through  every  age,  becoming  an 
infant  for  infants,  thus  sanctifying  infants ;  a  child  for 
children,  thus  sanctifying  those  who  are  of  this  age, 
being  at  the  same  time  made  to  them  an  example  of 
piety,  righteousness,  and  submission." 

This  sentence  holds  the  heart  of  Christmas.  But  it 
was  not  until  long  after  it  was  uttered,  it  was  not  until 
the  latter  half  of  the  fourth  century,  that  the  Church  at 
large  began  to  feel  and  to  develop  its  meaning.  Then 
it  was  that  she  emerged  from  the  storm  of  persecution 
into  the  sunshine  of  imperial  favour.  Then  she  real- 
ized that  patient  suffering  and  faithful  death  were  not 
the  only  duties  of  the  Christian,  but  that,  following 
God  in  love,  it  was  possible  to  begin  in  this  world 
the  purity  and  peace  of  heaven.  Then  she  began  to 
feel  the  wondrous  significance  of  the  living  entrance  of 
the  Son  of  God  into  the  life  of  man,  and  his  perfect 
pattern  of  holiness  in  every  human  relation.  Then  she 
passed  from  the  lower  conception  of  a  Church  saved 
out  of  the  world,  to  the  higher  conception  of  a  world 
to  be  saved  through  the  ministry  of  the  Church,  a  nat- 
ural year  to  be  transformed  by  reverent  devotion  and 
wholesome  piety  into  the  Christian  year,  a  redeeming 
life  as  well  as  an  atoning  death  of  Christ,  to  be  pre- 
served in  living  remembrance  by  the  perpetual  com- 
memoration of  its  chief  events.  Then  it  was  that, 
opening  her  heart  to  the  humanity  of  religion,  she  be- 


THE    VIRGIN"    IN    A    WOOD  —  FII.IPPO    LirPI 
From  a  painting  in  the  Berlin  Museum 


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THE    NATIVITY  57 

gan  to  draw  near  to  the  humanity  of  Jesus,  and  to  seek 
with  eager  interest  for  the  day  of  his  birth  that  she 
might  make  it  holy. 

But  what  clew  was  there  to  direct  the  search?  What 
reason  could  be  given  for  choosing  one  day  rather  than 
another  for  the  Christmas  festival  ?  The  gospels,  al- 
ways meagre  in  dates,  were  quite  silent  here.  They 
gave  no  hint  of  the  day  or  month  of  the  Nativity. 
Oral  tradition,  we  may  be  sure,  was  equally  reticent  or 
indifferent.  There  were,  indeed,  a  few  scattered  sug- 
(jestions  of  the  date  of  Christ's  birth  floatins;  here 
and  there  among  the  writings  of  the  fathers ;  but  these 
were  all  of  late  origin,  manifestly  unhistorical,  and, 
above  all,  quite  contradictory.  Clement  of  Alexandria 
said  that  many  Christians  regarded  the  20th  of  May 
as  the  day  of  the  Nativity,  others  preferred  the  20th  of 
April,  but  he  favored  the  19th  of  November.  In  the 
Eastern  Church  the  5th  or  6th  of  January  was  cele- 
brated as  the  date  of  Christ's  baptism,  and  the  Nativity 
was  joined  with  this.  Others  again  fixed  upon  the  21st 
of  March  as  the  day  of  Christ's  birth.  Between  such 
varying  and  slightly  supported  assumptions  there  was 
little  to  choose.  A  historical  date  was  clearly  out  of 
the  question.  Nothing  was  left  for  the  Church  to  do 
but  to  select  some  day  on  grounds  of  convenience  and 
symbolic  significance,  and  celebrate  it  by  common  con- 
sent as  Christmas  Day. 

It  would  take  too  long  to  trace  the  many  reasons 
which  probably  led  to  the  choice  of  the  25th  of  De- 
cember. It  was  doubtless  connected  with  the  day 
which  had  already  been  generally  accepted  as  the  date 


58  THE    CHRIST- CHILD    IN    ART 

of  the  Annunciation  and  of  the  creation  of  the  world. 
Assuming  that  the  world  was  made  in  the  spring,  be- 
cause it  was  commanded  to  bring  forth  grass  and  herbs, 
and  that  it  was  made  when  the  day  and  night  were  of 
equal  length,  because  "  the  evening  and  the  morning 
were  the  first  day,"  it  was  natural,  though  somewhat 
naive,  to  fix  upon  the  vernal  equinox  (according  to  the 
Julian  calendar,  March  25th)  as  the  exact  date  of  the 
creation.  And  once  having  discovered  by  this  easy 
method  the  very  day  on  which  the  world  came  into 
being,  and  the  glorious  light  sprang  out  of  darkness, 
what  more  simple  than  to  assume  that  it  was  the  same 
day  on  which  the  power  of  the  Almighty  overshad- 
owed Mary,  and  the  "  Day-spring  from  on  high  "  began 
his  entrance  into  the  world  ?  Nothing  could  be  plain- 
er. Even  the  least  imaginative  of  chronographers  could 
reckon  forward  from  this  fixed  point  of  the  Annuncia- 
tion nine  months,  and  arrive  at  December  25th  as  the 
day  of  the  Nativity.  And  here  another  wonderful  coin- 
cidence meets  him.  This  is  the  day  of  the  winter 
solstice,  the  day  when  the  world's  darkness  begins  to 
lessen,  and  the  world's  light  to  grow;  the  day  which 
the  ancient  world  had  long  celebrated  as  the  birthday 
of  the  sun — dies  natalis  soils  Invlcll ;  what  more  appro- 
priate day  could  be  found  for  the  birth  of  the  "  Sun  of 
Righteousness?"  St,  Augustine  points  out  an  instance 
of  the  wondrous  fulfilment  of  Scripture  in  the  fact 
that  St.  John  the  Baptist  was  born  on  June  25th,  the 
summer  solstice,  when  the  sun  begins  to  decline ;  but 
the  Lord  Jesus  was  born  on  December  25th,  the  winter 
solstice,  when  the  sun  begins  to  ascend.     And  in  this 


THE      NATIVITY ANDREA     DELTA     ROF.niA 

From  a  bass-relief  in  the  Convent  of  La  Verna 


THE  NEW   YORK 

PUBLIC  LIBRARY 


ASTOR,   LENOX   AND 
TIUDEN  FOUNDATIONS. 

c 


THE    NATIVITY  6i 

is  fulfilled  the  saying,  "  He  must  increase,  but  I  must 
decrease." 

Let  us  not  hesitate  to  admit  that  these  calculations 
have  very  small  historical  value.  At  least  they  have 
real  poetic  feeling.  I  do  not  suppose  that  the  early 
Christians  intended  to  fix  the  exact  day  of  Christ's 
birth  as  a  matter  of  infallible  chronology.  All  that 
they  meant  to  do  was  to  bind  their  devotions  into  har- 
mony with  the  year  of  nature,  and  utter  their  profound 
belief  in  the  vital  unity  of  the  life  of  Christ  with  the 
life  of  the  world.  Creation  and  redemption,  resurrec- 
tion and  daybreak,  nativity  and  the  returning  of  the 
unconquered  sun — these  are  united  in  the  thought  of 
God,  and  in  the  gratitude  of  man.  And  though  the 
shepherds  of  Bethlehem  may  not  have  watched  in  the 
fields  by  night  amid  the  rigours  of  midwinter,  though 
the  tax  registration  of  Publius  Sulpicius  Quirinus  may 
not  have  taken  place  in  December,  every  heart  that 
feels  the  simplicity  and  beauty  of  the  Christian  faith 
can  join  in  the  gladness  of  that  Christmas  Day  which 
has  been  consecrated  by  centuries  of  holy  joy,  and 
which  celebrates  the  emergence  of  a  new  light  from 
the  darkest  and  longest  of  the  nights  of  earth. 

The  earliest  mention  of  the  25th  of  December  as 
Christmas  Day  is  found  in  an  ancient  catalogue  of 
Church  festivals  about  a.d.  354.  And  it  is  surprising 
to  see  with  what  alacrity  the  date  was  received  and  the 
Nativity  celebrated  throughout  Christendom.  It  seems 
as  if  the  world  had  been  waiting  for  this  festival  of 
divine  and  human  childhood,  and  was  ready  to  welcome 
it  at  once  with  songs  of  joy.     In  the  year  360  it  was 


62  THE   CHRIST- CHILD    IN    ART 

already  celebrated  in  Rome  by  vast  multitudes  throng- 
ing the  churches.  Twenty  years  later,  Antioch  had 
taken  it  up  with  great  popular  enthusiasm.  And  in 
little  more  than  fifty  years  from  its  earliest  suggestion, 
the  observance  of  December  25th  as  the  day  of  the 
Nativity  had  become  the  universal  practice  of  Chris- 
tians. 


II 

It  is  about  this  time,  the  latter  part  of  the  fourth 
century,  that  we  find  the  legends  with  which  the  his- 
tory of  the  birth  and  childhood  of  Jesus  was  embroid- 
ered, beginning  to  take  a  definite  shape,  and  to  follow 
fixed,  conventional  patterns.  The  so-called  Gospel  of 
the  pseudo- Matthew  was  probably  written  at  the  com- 
mencement of  the  fifth  century.  The  Protevangeliiim 
of  fames  and  the  Gospel  of  Thomas  were  of  earlier 
origin,  but  the  first  clear  evidence  of  their  currency  in 
their  present  form  comes  from  the  end  of  the  fourth 
century.  These  legendary  books  came  into  existence 
in  a  very  simple  and  natural  way.  They  were  the  out- 
growth of  that  native  trait  of  the  human  mind,  famil- 
iar to  every  one  who  has  tried  to  tell  a  true  story  to 
children — the  craving  for  picturesque  detail.  A  child  is 
never  satisfied  with  the  bare  statement  that  a  thing 
happened;  he  always  wants  to  know  how  it  happened; 
he  demands  local  colour  and  dramatic  incident.  The 
childish  mind  of  the  primitive  Christians  approached 
the  brief  authentic  records  of  Christ's  nativity  and  in- 


THE    NATIVITY  63 

fancy  with  precisely  this  demand,  and  the  apocryphal 
gospels  are  simply  collections  of  the  traditions,  inven- 
tions, and  myths  with  which  it  was  answered.  Inno- 
cent and  naive  plays  of  fancy,  they  floated  lightly  and 
vaguely  through  the  popular  mind  for  two  or  three 
centuries,  until  at  last  some  one  brouo^ht  them  tosrether 
in  the  little  books  where  they  are  now  found,  and  tried 
to  give  them  dignity  and  authority  by  attaching  to 
them  the  name  of  one  of  the  apostles.  Sometimes 
these  books  were  employed  by  the  sects  who  found 
them  favourable  to  their  particular  heresies;  but  they 
were  never  accepted  by  the  Church  at  large,  nor  was 
there  ever  any  thought  among  her  recognized  teachers 
that  they  could  be  considered  in  the  same  rank  with 
the  authoritative  Scriptures.  The  contrast  was  too  im- 
mense and  striking ;  and  this  contrast  has  always  been 
regarded  as  one  of  the  strong  practical  arguments  for 
the  early  date  and  the  inspired  character  of  the  genuine 
gospels. 

At  the  point  of  the  Nativity  the  accumulation  of 
legends  is  not  so  great  as  at  other  points,  earlier  and 
later  in  the  narrative.  But  it  began  sooner,  and  it  was 
oftener  touched  by  poetic  feeling  and  sometimes  even 
by  the  air  of  truth.  For  instance,  the  first  of  these 
legendary  details  (mentioned  by  Justin  Martyr  about 
the  year  150)  was  a  really  not  improbable  answer 
to  a  very  natural  question.  For  what  could  be  more 
natural  to  one  reading  for  the  first  time  St.  Luke's  ac- 
count of  the  Nativity  than  to  wonder  and  ask  in  what 
sort  of  a  place  "  the  manger,"  in  which  the  infant  Christ 
was  laid,  may  have  stood?     And  certainly  there  is  noth- 


64  THE    CHRIST- CHILD    IN    ART 

ing  improbable  in  the  statement  of  Justin  (who  was  a 
native  of  Palestine,  and  well  acquainted  with  the  cus- 
tom, which  still  prevails  in  that  country,  of  using  grot- 
tos or  caves  in  the  rock  as  stables  and  shelters  for  cat- 
tle), that  the  manger  was  in  a  cave.  The  tradition  has 
been  generally  accepted.  But  the  artists  have  not  al- 
ways found  it  easy  to  adapt  it  to  the  conditions  of  their 
art.  The  sculptors  have  followed  it  most  frequently ;  to 
cut  a  cave  in  the  rock  was  quite  in  their  line  of  work. 
A  few  of  the  painters  have  kept  closely  to  the  idea  of  the 
grotto — for  example,  Mantegna,  in  his  "  Nativity,"  and 
Lionardo,  in  his  "  Virgin  of  the  Rocks."  But  more 
commonly  they  have  modified  it ;  at  first,  as  Giotto  has 
done,  by  placing  a  slight  shed  over  what  seems  to  be 
the  mouth  of  a  grotto ;  then  by  changing  the  grotto 
into  a  ruined  building  with  a  thatched  roof  over  it,  as 
Roger  van  der  Weyden  and  Ghirlandajo  have  done ; 
then  by  entirely  losing  the  idea  of  the  cave  in  the  idea 
of  the  stable,  as  Luini  has  done ;  and  then  by  envelop- 
ing the  event  with  shadows,  as  Murillo  has  done,  so 
that  one  cannot  tell  whether  the  place  is  a  stable  or  a 
cave. 

One  of  the  most  beautiful  legends  of  the  Nativity  is 
that  which  is  given  in  the  Protevangelium  in  regard  to 
the  miraculous  calm  and  silence  of  the  Holy  Night. 
Joseph,  having  left  the  Virgin  Mary  in  the  cave,  goes 
out  to  seek  a  nurse.  "  And  I,"  says  he,  "  was  walking 
and  was  not  walking ;  and  I  looked  up  into  the  sky  and 
saw  the  sky  astonished ;  and  I  looked  up  to  the  pole  of 
the  heavens  and  saw  it  standing,  and  the  birds  of  the 
air  keeping  still.     And  I  looked  down  upon  the  earth, 


THE    NATIVITY —  ROGER    VAN    DER    WEYDEN 
From  a  triptych  in  the  Berlin  Museum 


THt   NEW    YOPK 

PUBLIC  LIBRARY 


ASTCn.  LENOX  AKb 
TILDEN  FUUNDAtl«*l*<«. 


THE    NATIVITY  dy 

and  saw  a  trough  lying  and  work-people  reclining,  and 
their  hands  were  in  the  trough.  And  those  that  were 
eating  did  not  eat,  and  those  that  were  rising  did  not 
rise,  and  those  that  were  carrying  anything  to  their 
mouths  did  not  carry  it ;  but  the  faces  of  all  were  look- 
ing upwards.  And  I  saw  the  sheep  walking  and  the 
sheep  stood  still ;  and  the  shepherd  raised  his  hand  to 
strike  them,  and  his  hand  remained  up.  And  1  looked 
on  the  current  of  the  river,  and  I  saw  the  mouths  of  the 
kids  resting  on  the  water  and  not  drinking,  and  all 
things  in  a  moment  were  driven  from  their  course." 
This  is  an  idea  which  neither  painting  nor  sculpture 
can  express ;  for  though,  strangely  enough,  it  is  only  a 
description  of  what  one  sees  in  every  statue  and  in 
every  picture  —  a  momentary  action  fixed  in  a  beauti- 
ful rest — yet  neither  picture  nor  statue  can  tell  us  that 
the  rest  continues ;  their  natural  interpretation  is  that 
it  is  only  an  immeasurably  brief  instant  in  that  ever- 
changing  current  of  life  which  flows  through  all  things. 
But  poetry  can  do  that  which  lies  beyond  the  power  of 
the  other  arts ;  and  we  find  this  idea  of  immobility  and 
profound  quietude,  of  the  heavens  at  least,  expressed  in 
Milton's  "Ode  to  the  Nativity:" 

"  The  stars  with  deep  amaze 
Stand  fixed  in  steadfast  gaze, 

Bending  one  way  their  precious  influencci 
And  will  not  take  their  flight 
For  all  the  morning  light, 

Or  Lucifer,  that  often  warn'd  them  thence." 

There  are  two  other  noteworthy  legends  in  regard  to 
the  Nativity.     One,  which  is  common  to  several  of  the 


68  THE    CHRIST- CHILD    IN    ART 

apocryphal  books,  describes  the  dazzling  supernatural 
light  which  filled  the  cave  with  glory.  The  other  is 
narrated  in  the  book  which  is  called  by  the  name  of 
Matthew:  "And  on  the  third  day  after  the  birth  of  our 
Lord  Jesus  Christ,  the  most  blessed  Mary  went  forth 
out  of  the  cave,  and  entering  a  stable,  placed  the  child 
in  the  stall,  and  the  ox  and  the  ass  adored  him.  Then 
was  fulfilled  that  which  was  said  by  Isaiah  the  prophet, 
saying :  The  ox  knoweth  his  owner  and  the  ass  his  mas- 
ter's crib."  Both  of  these  legends  have  been  freely  ac- 
cepted by  the  artists.  There  is  hardly  one  of  them  who 
does  not  introduce  the  ox  and  the  ass ;  and  sometimes 
the  latter  animal  is  represented  with  open  mouth,  lifting 
up  his  voice  in  audible  adoration.  The  miraculous 
radiance  has  been  employed  by  some  of  the  painters  to 
produce  wonderful  effects  of  light  and  shade.  A  fa- 
mous example  of  this  is  Correggio's  picture  in  the  gal- 
lery at  Dresden. 

There  are  also  certain  symbols  or  mystical  emblems 
which  are  frequently  introduced  into  pictures  of  the 
Nativity.  The  cross  is  placed  in  the  hand  of  an  angel 
or  of  the  little  St.  John  to  remind  us  of  the  future  of 
the  Holy  Child.  The  lamb  is  the  type  of  his  purity; 
and  when  it  is  bound  with  cords  it  represents  his  sac- 
rifice. The  dove  is  the  emblem  of  the  Holy  Spirit;  it 
also  speaks  of  meekness  and  innocence.  The  gold- 
finch, because  of  the  red  spot  on  its  head,  is  connected 
with  the  memory  of  Christ's  death.  A  sheaf  of  wheat 
is  often  used  as  a  pillow  for  the  infant  Jesus,  or  a  few 
ears  of  it  are  placed  in  his  hand,  as  a  symbol  of  the 
bread  of  life.     When  He  has  his  finger  laid  upon  his 


THE   ADORATION    OF   THE    SHEPHERDS  —  DOMENICO    GHIRLANDAJO 
From  a  painting  in  the  Academy,  Florence 


1  HL   NEW    YOPK 

PUBLIC  LIBRARY 


ASTOR,   LENOX  AND 
TILDEN   FOUNDATIONS. 

C  I- 


THE    NATIVriY 


71 


lips  it  is  to  remind  us  that  He  is  the  Word  of  God. 
The  palm  is  the  symbol  of  martyrdom  and  glory ;  the 
olive  is  the  emblem  of  peace ;  the  globe  represents  his 
kingly  authority.  Thus  in  the  silent  language  of  signs 
the  artists  have  expressed  the  thoughts  of  wonder  and 
worship  which  have  gathered  through  the  ages  about 
the  cradle  of  Christ. 


Ill 

The  works  of  art  which  have  been  inspired  by  the 
Nativity  may  be  arranged  in  several  groups.  First  of 
all  there  are  the  pictures  and  carvings  which  deal  with 
the  subject  in  its  simplest  form.  These  again  are  of 
two  kinds :  the  older  artists  usually  represent  the  Vir- 
gin Mary  reclining  on  a  couch  and  the  Child  wrapped 
in  swaddling-bands  in  the  manger  beside  her ;  the  later 
artists  show  us  Mary  and  Joseph  kneeling  before  the 
Child,  who  lies  on  a  pillow  or  on  a  corner  of  his  moth- 
er's robe.  Then  there  is  a  very  large  class  of  pictures 
which  represent  the  adoration  of  the  shepherds,  the 
Child  lying  on  his  mother's  lap,  or  in  the  manger,  while 
Joseph  stands  in  the  background.  Another  group  of 
pictures  which  belong  properly  to  the  Nativity  are 
those  in  which  the  mother  is  worshipping  her  child  in 
solitude.  This  mode  of  treating  the  subject  was  very 
frequent  among  the  Italian  artists  of  the  fifteenth  and 
sixteenth  centuries.  It  expresses  with  tender  felicity 
the  thought  of  the  Nativity  which  must  have  been  in 


72 


THE   CHRIST- CHILD   IN   ART 


the  heart  of  Mary.  Yet  one  more  class  of  pictures 
seems  to  me  to  be  rightly  included  in  the  spirit  of  this 
theme:  the  pictures  of  the  Madonna  and  Child  in 
which  there  is  no  attempt  to  enthrone  them  or  to  sur- 
round them  with  celestial  splendours  and  attendant 
saints,  but  the  artist  shows  us  simply  the  mother  with 
her  Divine  Babe  folded  in  her  arms.  This  is  what 
Mrs.  Jameson  has  well  called  the  Mater  Amabilis. 
But  I  am  sure  that  the  subject  belongs  more  truly  to 
the  life  of  Christ  than  to  the  "  Legends  of  the  Madon- 
na," for  the  central  thought  of  it  is  that  wondrous  birth 
in  which  the  Son  of  God  trusted  himself  to  a  mother's 
care  and  rested  on  a  mother's  breast.  Of  each  of  these 
ways  of  depicting  the  Nativity  I  have  chosen  two  or 
more  illustrations;  but  it  will  be  more  convenient  to 
describe  and  interpret  them,  not  in  separate  classes,  but 
in  the  order  of  their  age. 

The  little  carving  from  a  stone 
sarcophagus  in  the  Church  of  St. 
Celsus  at  Milan  was  probably 
made  in  the  latter  part  of  the 
fourth  century,  and  is  one  of  the 
oldest  known  representations  of 
the  subject.  It  is  a  rude  and  sim- 
ple bit  of  work,  done  by  an  un- 
known hand  of  no  great  skill,  and 
conceived  in  that  purely  symbol- 
ical spirit  which  was  character- 
istic of  early  art;  for  it  is  evident 
that  there  is  here  no  effort  to  depict  an  historical 
event.     It  is  simply  a  hint,  a  mystic  sign  of  a  story 


FROM  SARCOPHAGUS  OF 
FOURTH  CENTURY 

In  the  Church  of  St.  Celsus, 
Milan 


THE   NATIVITY  73 

already  well  known.  And  yet  the  old  stone-cutter's 
work  is  not  without  its  charm,  for  it  shows  us  how 
truthfully  and  how  reverently  he  has  thought  of  his 
theme.  The  thatched  roof  over  the  entrance  of  the 
grotto,  the  manger,  the  ox  and  the  ass,  the  Child 
wrapped  in  swaddling-clothes  and  lying  alone,  suggest 
the  lowliness  of  Christ's  birth.  The  angel  with  the 
cross,  lifting  up  his  hand  in  wonder,  is  the  primitive 
artist's  way  of  assuring  us  that  he  believed  this  lowly 
birth  had  a  Divine  glory  and  significance. 

For  nearly  nine  centuries  after  this,  art  made  very 
little  advance,  gained  very  little  power  to  represent  the 
scenes  of  the  gospel  history  as  real  events.  Indeed,  it 
almost  seems  as  if  it  lost  power  under  the  deadening 
influence  of  the  Byzantine  traditions ;  and  the  gorgeous 
mosaics  of  San  Marco  in  Venice  are  far  less  animated 
than  the  early  paintings  in  the  catacombs  and  carvings 
on  the  sarcophagi.  But  one  needs  to  be  familiar  with 
the  dreariness  and  deadness  of  art  in  these  dark  ages 
in  order  to  appreciate  at  its  full  value  the  revival  which 
came  to  pass  at  the  end  of  the  thirteenth  century.  It 
was  Giotto,  master  of  the  seven  liberal  arts  and  friend 
of  Dante,  who  brought  this  new  life  to  its  fullest  and 
most  perfect  expression.  A  poet,  a  sculptor,  a  daring 
architect,  he  was,  above  all,  the  man  who  raised  the  art 
of  painting  from  the  grave.  In  1305  he  went  down 
from  Florence  to  decorate  the  walls  of  the  little  Chapel 
of  the  Arena  at  Padua,  which  still  remains,  in  spite  of 
the  ruins  of  time  and  the  labours  of  the  restorer,  one  of 
the  most  precious  shrines  of  art.  If  you  approach  these 
frescos  with  a  demand  for  perfection  of  technique  as 


74  THE    CHRIST- CHILD    IN    ART 

the  one  thing  indispensable  in  painting ;  if  you  come  to 
them  with  an  eye  habituated  to  superficial  prettiness 
and  clever  rendering  of  insignificant  subjects,  you  will 
be  disappointed.  Giotto  knew  little  of  perspective  as 
we  understand  it.  He  was  ignorant  of  anatomy. 
When  he  wished  to  represent  a  man  lying  down  he 
simply  tipped  the  figure  over  on  its  side.  His  animals 
look  as  if  they  were  made  of  wood,  and  his  mountains 
are  impossible.  Even  his  lovely  colours,  which  were  the 
wonder  of  his  own  age,  have  lost  a  great  deal  of  their 
pristine  purity  and  brilliance. 

But  you  will  forget  all  this  if  you  come  into  the  little 
Chapel  of  the  Arena  directly  from  the  desert  of  Byzan- 
tine art.  It  will  seem  to  you  like  an  oasis  of  sincerity 
and  beauty.  Giotto  dared  to  conceive  and  depict  the 
gospel  story  not  because  the  Church  told  him,  not  as 
the  Church  told  him,  but  because  he  was  filled  with  a 
living  sense  of  its  reality  and  worth ;  because  he  felt 
that  to  make  these  scenes  visible  again  to  men  would 
help  them  to  live  nobler  lives.  And  so  he  cast  away 
the  restraints  of  formalism,  and  reaching  deep  down 
into  human  nature,  covered  the  walls  with  the  finest 
and  most  living  figures  that  he  could  paint.  He  went 
straight  to  the  heart  of  every  event.  He  spent  no  time 
on  the  embroidery  of  a  robe  or  the  jewels  of  a  throne ; 
what  he  wanted  to  do  was  to  make  other  men  see  and 
feel,  as  he  had  seen  and  felt,  the  reality  of  the  story  and 
the  profound  emotion  of  those  who  were  engaged  in  it. 
This  is  what  he  has  done  in  his  picture  of  the  Nativity. 
The  landscape  is  extraordinary,  the  sheep  are  ligneous, 
and  the  goat  resembles  a  unicorn.     But  the  sentiment 


hnwuHiiuiinuiiiiiuaiiiiiiuuiiui, 


THE   MOTHER    ADORING     HER    CHILD 
From  a  painting  ascribed  to  Giovanni  Bellini,  in  tlie  CViurcli  of  II   Redentore,  Venice 


THE  NEW   SOnK 

PUBLIC  LIBRARY 


ASTOR,  LENOX  AND 
TILDEN  FOUNDATIONS. 


THE    NATIVITY  ^^ 

of  the  picture  is  perfect,  and  it  is  expressed  with  the 
simplicity  of  genius.  The  young  mother  is  reaching 
out  her  arms  to  lay  her  new-born  babe  for  the  first  time 
in  his  strange  cradle.  There  is  a  tenderness  of  love,  a 
wondering  solicitude  in  her  face  and  in  her  touch  that 
none  but  a  poet  could  have  ever  conceived.  Three  of 
the  angels  above  the  stable  are  lifting  up  their  hands  in 
adoration — "Glory  to  God  in  the  highest" — one  of 
them  is  stooping  to  tell  the  shepherds  his  glad  tidings 
of  "good-will  to  men,"  but  the  fifth  angel  bends  with 
folded  hands  of  silent  reverence  above  the  holy  place 
of  the  Nativity,  and  we  feel  that  here  indeed  is  "  peace 
on  earth,"  a  peace  of  which  every  mother's  heart  knows 
something  when  she  looks  on  the  face  of  her  first-born 
child. 

But  with  all  this  directness  and  intensity  of  feeling 
in  Giotto's  art,  there  is  in  it  something  of  that  spirit  of 
generality,  of  universal  rather  than  of  particular  beauty, 
of  desire  to  express  itself  in  typical  forms  more  than  in 
strongly  marked  individual  traits,  which  was  the  tend- 
ency of  antique  art  at  its  best.  Giotto  broke  away  from 
the  hard  and  inexpressive  Byzantine  type  with  its 
meagre,  sombre  face,  and  narrow,  fixed  eyes ;  but  he 
was  powerfully  influenced  by  the  classic  type  of  full 
and  nobly  moulded  beauty,  made  familiar  to  the  artists 
of  the  early  Renaissance  by  the  rediscovery  and  admir- 
ing study  of  the  works  of  ancient  sculpture.  It  is  true 
that  his  strong  dramatic  sense  frequently  led  him  to  ag- 
itate these  classic  faces  with  sharp  emotion,  so  that  they 
sometimes  approach  perilously  near  to  grimaces.  But 
even  this  does  not  destroy  the  impression  of  dignity. 


78  THE    CHRIST- CHILD    IN    ART 

repose,  breadth,  in  his  work;  the  classic  air  still  breathes 
from  it ;  in  this  picture  of  the  Nativity,  for  example,  we 
feel  that  there  is  a  real  relationship  to  the  bass-relief  of 
the  same  subject  by  Niccolo  Pisano  on  the  pulpit  of  the 
Baptistery  at  Pisa,  in  which  the  Virgin  is  a  copy  of  a 
figure  of  Alcestis,  and  the  head  of  Joseph  is  modelled 
after  an  antique  bust. 

In  the  work  of  Fra  Angelico  the  classic  influence 
gave  place  to  something  new  and  very  different ;  a  pro- 
found and  delicate  spiritual  impulse  in  the  old  monk's 
heart,  born  of  constant  prayer  and  self-discipline  and  se- 
clusion of  soul,  even  in  the  midst  of  successful  labour 
and  popular  applause,  created  an  original  and  ethereal 
type  of  beauty,  more  intimately  fitted  than  the  classic 
type  to  express  purity  and  reverence  and  "  such  joys  as 
angels  feel."  His  pictures  of  the  Nativity,  of  which  one 
of  the  smallest  (that  which  adorned  a  panel  of  the  great 
silver  chest  of  the  Church  of  the  Annunziata  in  Flor- 
ence) is  one  of  the  best,  seem  to  be  touched  with  celes- 
tial serenity  and  refinement.  But  their  spirit  is  still 
general  rather  than  particular ;  the  faces  are  not  individ- 
ual, they  are  typical,  though  the  type  is  changed. 

It  was  not  until  the  fifteenth  century  that  the  spirit 
of  individualism  took  possession  of  art,  and  the  passion 
of  personality  came  to  distinct  expression.  Then  the 
artists  ceased  to  detach,  to  refine,  to  generalize,  and  be- 
gan to  particularize,  to  emphasize,  to  accentuate  per- 
sonal traits,  so  that  the  faces  in  their  pictures  were  not 
so  much  general  representations  of  characters  as  they 
were  portrayals  of  individual  men  and  women.  Nothing 
seemed  to  these  artists  of  greater  interest  and  impor- 


THE    NATIVITY 


79 


tance  than  making  their  work  life-like  ;  and  life-likeness, 
as  they  understood  it,  could  be  best  attained  by  resem- 
blance to  particular  persons.  This  new  spirit,  this  prim- 
itive realism,  found  utterance  in  Fra  Filippo  Lippi,  a 
monk  of  a  very  different  character  from  Fra  Angelico. 
He  was  registered  in  the  Carmelite  monastery  at  Flor- 
ence in  1420,  but  was  little  adapted  to  wear  the  cowl 
with  credit.  Impulsive,  ardent,  pleasure-loving,  irre- 
sponsible. Brother  Filippo  was  continually  in  debt  and 
trouble.  Vasari  s  story  that  he  ran  away  with  Lucrezia 
Buti,  a  nun  of  Prato,  who  had  been  sitting  as  his  model 
for  a  picture  of  the  Virgin,  has  been  denied  by  recent 
critics  who  have  too  high  an  admiration  for  Filippo's 
painting  to  believe  anything  bad  of  his  character.  But 
though  this  story  may  be  a  malicious  fable,  there  can 
be  little  doubt  that  his  life  was  eccentric  and  irregular, 
and  that  he  did  many  things  that  he  ought  not  to  have 
done.  And  yet  he  did  some  things  that  he  ought  to 
have  done,  among  which  we  may  reckon  the  loving  care 
and  joy  with  which  he  executed  his  work  as  a  painter, 
and  the  delight  with  which  he  rendered  the  faces  of 
young  children  and  innocent  maidenhood.  Somewhere 
in  his  turbulent  breast  he  must  have  preserved  a  spring 
of  pure  imagination,  for  nothing  could  be  more  delicate 
and  lovely  than  his  picture  of  the  Nativity,  in  the  Berlin 
Museum.  The  Virgin  is  kneeling  alone  before  her 
Child  in  a  nook  in  the  forest.  The  scene,  the  locality, 
the  historical  circumstances  of  the  event  are  all  for- 
gotten. The  Child  lies  smiling  with  his  finger  on  his 
lips.  The  Virgin's  face  is  very  human  and  girlish, 
with  its   rounded   cheeks,  small  mouth,  pointed   chin. 


8o  THE    CHRIST- CHILD   IN    ART 

and  nose  which  almost  seems  to  turn  a  httle  upward. 
She  is  one  of  those  young  maidens,  gentle  and  pure 
and  shy,  who  remind  us  of  spring  flowers.  Her  hands 
are  folded  and  her  head  is  bent  above  her  babe.  She 
is  not  the  Queen  of  Heaven,  but  the  mater pia  of  the 
human  heart.  Every  mother  thinks  her  child  won- 
derful, but  more  than  all  this  mother,  who  beholds  the 
Light  of  the  World  lying  in  her  cradle.  As  Jeremy 
Taylor  says,  "  She  blesses  Him,  she  worships  Him,  she 
thanks  Him  that  He  would  be  born  of  her." 

I  remember  well  my  first  sight  of  this  picture, 
nearly  twenty  years  ago.  Hitherto  the  "old  masters" 
had  seemed  unattractive  and  dry.  And  this  little 
panel  of  green  with  its  few  spots  of  light — could  any- 
thing be  more  stupid,  or  less  worthy  of  its  stars  in  the 
catalogue }  So  I  thought  as  I  first  looked  at  it ;  but 
as  I  passed  it  again  and  again,  and  began  to  linger  a 
little  before  it,  trying  to  reach  its  secret,  something  in 
the  slender  grace,  the  sweet  humility,  of  this  virgin's 
figure,  the  simplicity  of  the  Child  looking  up  from,  its 
bed  of  wild  flowers  (each  one  painted  as  carefully  as  if 
the  artist  loved  it),  a  breath  of  poetry  from  the  dark, 
cool  shadows  of  the  wood  fascinated  me  more  and 
more,  and  at  last  I  appreciated  my  first  "  old  master." 

There  is  a  close  resemblance  in  subject  and  in  spirit 
between  this  picture  and  the  bass-relief  of  the  Nativity, 
by  one  of  the  Delia  Robbia  family,  which  is  in  the  Con- 
vent of  La  Verna.  I  say  by  one  of  the  family,  for  four 
generations  of  the  Delia  Robbia  worked  in  that  inex- 
pensive and  beautiful  material  of  glazed  and  coloured 
clay  which  has  become  inseparably  associated  with  their 


THE    NATIVITY  —  BKRN'AKI)INO    I.UIM.       From  a  painting  in  the  Church  of  Sarcmno 


^IHu   NV-W    YO«K 

PUBLIC  LIBRA RV 


ASTOR,  LEN9X  AN* 
TILDEN  FOUN»ATI«N». 


THE    NATIVITY  83 

names,  and  it  is  not  always  possible  to  decide  whether 
Luca,  the  eldest,  or  Andrea,  his  nephew,  or  Giovanni, 
the  son  of  Andrea,  or  one  of  the  three  sons  of  Giovanni, 
was  the  author  of  a  particular  relief.  But  the  evidence 
of  style  is  in  favour  of  assigning  this  exquisite  Nativ- 
ity to  Andrea,  who  had,  perhaps,  less  power  than  his 
uncle  Luca,  but  more  grace  and  charm,  and  something 
near  akin  to  the  manner  of  Fra  Filippo  in  rendering 
the  half -humourous,  half-pathetic  beauty  of  infantile 
faces.  I  climbed  up  to  see  this  panel,  from  the  smiling 
vine -clad  valley  of  the  Casentino  where  Arno  rises, 
through  the  narrow  streets  of  Bibbiena,  and  over  miles 
of  chestnut-covered  hills,  to  the  lofty,  lonely  cliff  where 
the  Convent  of  St.  Francis  stands  among  its  immemo- 
riai  groves  of  fir  and  beech,  rich  in  wild  flowers,  and 
haunted  by  myriads  of  birds.  The  bass-relief  is  in  the 
main  church  of  the  convent.  It  is  composed  in  celes- 
tial blue  and  white,  except  the  green  sheaf  of  wheat  on 
which  the  Christ-child  lies.  His  face  is  full  of  life  and 
loveliness,  more  expressive  than  the  Child  in  Fra  Filip- 
po's  painting.  Light  clouds  float  above  his  liead.  A 
family  of  joyous  angels,  all  alike,  yet  all  different,  as  if 
they  were  children  of  the  same  household,  cluster  about 
the  Heavenly  Father,  from  whom  the  Holy  Dove  is 
floating  downward ;  and  lest  we  should  forget  that  the 
angels  sang,  Andrea  has  put  the  score  of  the  Gloj-ia  in 
Excelsis  in  the  centre  of  the  panel.  The  attitude  of 
the  Virgin,  with  her  slender  neck,  bent  head,  and  long 
fingers  sensitive  to  the  very  tips  with  almost  tremulous 
delight,  is  not  different  from  Fra  Filippo's,  but  the  face 
is   nobler,  as  if  she    understood    more    profoundly  the 


84  THE    CHRIST- CHILD   IN    ART 

meaning  of  her  adoration.  While  I  was  lost  in  con- 
templation of  this  most  beautiful  tablet,  there  came 
into  the  quiet  church  a  peasant  woman  who  had  toiled 
up  the  long  steep  hill,  under  the  blazing  sun,  from  her 
home  somewhere  among  the  neighbouring  valleys. 
She  was  clothed  in  poverty  and  bent  almost  into  de- 
formity by  the  burden  of  hard  labour ;  a  black  handker- 
chief was  folded  about  her  weary,  wrinkled,  patient  face. 
She  came  as  close  as  she  could  to  the  little  altar  be- 
neath the  tablet,  and  knelt  there  for  a  long  time,  pray- 
ing in  a  murmur  while  the  tears  ran  down  her  withered 
cheeks.  I  know  not  what  tale  of  sorrow,  anxiety,  or 
loss  was  told  in  those  low  whispers ;  but  it  was  a 
strangely  moving  sight  to  behold  that  figure  of  the 
never-ceasing  yet  ever  transient  troubles  and  griefs  of 
suffering  humanity  close  beside  the  image  of  immortal 
joy  in  which  the  artist's  hand  had  pictured  the  loveli- 
ness of  the  Virgin  Mother  adoring  her  Divine  Child. 
Is  not  the  artist  also  a  minister  of  grace  and  comfort  to 
the  lowly  .•*  It  was  a  thing  not  to  be  forgotten  to  see 
the  look  of  renewed  peace  and  patience  on  the  poor, 
brown  face  as  the  woman  dropped  her  two  mites  into 
the  alms-box,  and  crept  slowly  out  into  the  sunlight. 

Roger  van  der  Weyden's  picture  of  the  Nativity,  in 
the  Museum  at  Berlin,  is  one  of  the  best  works  by  that 
devout  and  thoughtful  Flemish  master,  and  represents 
admirably  the  spirit  of  northern  art  in  the  fifteenth 
century.  Even  more  realistic  and  individual  in  its  aim 
than  Italian  art  of  the  same  period,  it  had  another  ideal 
of  beauty  and  independent  forms  of  expression.  Roger 
had  travelled  much  in  Italy;  he  had  seen  the  palms  and 


LA   NOTTE — CORREGGIO 
From  a  painting  in  the  Dresden  Gallery 


PUBLIC  LIBRARY 

ASTOn,   LENOX  AND 
TItDEN   FOUNOATION*.  ^ 


THE    NATIVITY  87 

olives  and  vineyards,  the  splendid  cities  and  melting 
landscapes,  the  gay  colours  and  graceful  forms,  the 
great  frescos  and  the  classic  works  of  art  of  the  South, 
but  he  came  back  from  it  all  unchanged  and  true  to  his 
own  ideals.  There  is  no  touch  of  Italy  in  his  work ;  it 
is  all  of  Flanders.  Grave,  subdued,  simple,  hard  in  out- 
line, amazingly  distinct  and  delicate  in  finish,  angular 
in  drapery,  cool  and  serene  in  colour,  his  pictures  are 
full  of  the  pensive  inwardness  and  self-restraint  of  the 
northern  spirit,  and  exhale  through  all  their  formality 
an  air  of  sincere  and  spiritual  beauty.  This  Nativity 
was  painted  about  1450  for  Pierre  Bladolin,  the  treas- 
urer of  the  Golden  Fleece,  and  the  founder  of  the  little 
city  of  Middleburg,  in  Flanders,  where  he  established 
the  coppersmiths  who  had  been  burned  out  of  the  cit)^ 
of  Dinant.  An  upright  and  industrious  man,  he  rose  by 
his  own  exertions  to  a  position  of  wealth  and  influence 
in  the  court  of  the  Duke  of  Burgundy,  but  it  is  said 
that  the  courtiers  disliked  him  for  his  gravity  and  econ- 
omy. Is  it  not  all  written  in  his  thin,  thoughtful  face 
and  his  figure  plainly  clad  in  sober  black,  as  Roger  has 
painted  him,  kneeling,  in  the  corner  of  the  picture  ?  In 
the  background  we  see  the  church  and  castle  which 
he  built  at  Middleburg.  The  Nativity  is  represented 
just  as  he  would  have  thought  of  it :  a  quaint,  homely 
scene.  The  Virgin's  face,  with  its  full  forehead,  wide- 
arched  brows,  and  downcast  eyes,  speaks  of  purit)  and 
piety  and  thoughtfulness.  Joseph  is  a  careful,  toil-worn 
old  man,  sheltering  with  one  hand  the  flame  of  the  lit- 
tle taper  which  he  holds  between  the  fingers  of  the 
other.     The  tiny  angels  vx^ith  their  coloured  wings  seem 


88  THE   CHRIST- CHILD   IN    ART 

to  be  clad  in  long  woollen  robes  as  if  to  resist  the  north- 
ern cold.  The  Holy  Child,  lying  on  the  corner  of  his 
mother's  mantle,  is  a  frail  and  helpless  new-born  infant, 
but  the  illumination  of  the  scene  all  flows  from  Him. 
He  is  the  Light. 

Domenico  Ghirlandajo  brings  us  back  again  into  the 
opulent  life  of  Italy  at  the  close  of  the  fifteenth  century, 
and  shows  the  culmination  of  the  school  of  Florentine 
realism.  His  picture  of  the  Nativity,  in  the  Academy 
at  Florence,  displays  the  strength  and  the  limitations  of 
that  school.  The  scene  is  somewhat  confused  and 
overloaded.  Two  Corinthian  pillars,  evidently  brought 
from  some  ruined  temple,  support  a  thatched  roof,  be- 
neath which  the  ox  and  the  ass  are  sheltered.  A  richly 
carved  sarcophagus,  with  a  Latin  inscription,  does  duty 
for  the  manger.  The  Christ-child  lies  on  the  ground 
in  front  of  it,  and  the  mother  worships  Him.  But  she 
does  not  quite  forget  herself.  There  is  less  devotion 
and  more  dignity  in  her  look  than  Lorenzo  da  Credi 
or  Andrea  della  Robbia  would  have  given  her.  And 
yet  she  is  womanly  and  beautiful.  In  the  foreground 
there  are  two  kneeling  figures,  and  a  third  standing  be- 
hind them  with  a  lamb  in  his  arms.  These  represent 
the  shepherds.  Vasari  admired  them  immensely,  and 
called  them  cosa  divina.  But  they  are  unmistakable 
citizens  of  Florence — portraits  (and  excellent  portraits 
too),  as  we  can  see  at  a  glance.  They  are  shrewd,  cul- 
tivated, worldly-wise  gentlemen  of  the  Medicean  type, 
knowing  about  as  much  of  sheep  as  the  first  well- 
dressed  acquaintance  whom  you  may  meet  in  an  after- 
noon walk  on  Fifth  Avenue.     It  seems  strange  to  us 


THE    NATIVITY  89 

to  see  them  "  assisting,"  as  the  French  say,  at  the  Na- 
tivity. But  Ghirlandajo  did  not  think  it  strange,  nor 
did  the  Florentines  laugh  at  him.  Was  it  because 
they  had  a  lower  idea  of  the  sacred  event,  or  a  higher 
idea  of  the  dignity  and  worth  of  humanity  than  pre- 
vails in  the  nineteenth  century.?  Perhaps  neither  of 
these  was  the  true  reason,  but  it  was  simply  because 
they  had  grown  used  to  seeing  the  scenes  of  the  gospel 
history  represented  as  miracle-plays,  at  the  great  Church 
festivals,  in  the  midst  of  a  crowd  of  citizens  who  were 
the  friends  and  contemporaries  of  the  actors,  and  who 
seemed  equally  in  place  in  pictures  of  the  same  scenes. 

But  the  most  noticeable  feature  in  this  picture  of 
Ghirlandajo's  is  the  background.  In  a  rich  landscape 
we  see  a  distant  city,  a  rocky  hill-side  where  the  angel 
is  appearing  to  the  shepherds,  a  Roman  causeway,  and 
a  triumphal  arch,  through  which  a  long  procession  is 
rapidly  approaching.  Horsemen  and  footmen  with 
fluttering  robes  and  rich  caparisons — a  royal  escort  for 
the  Kings  of  Orient — come  sweeping  onward  to  the 
lowly  shed.  It  seems  as  if  the  whole  world  were 
hastening  to  give  a  joyful  welcome  to  the  Prince  of 
Peace.  It  is  thus  that  the  painter,  a  citizen  of  pros- 
perous and  luxurious  Florence,  has  expressed  his  con- 
ception of  the  meaning  of  Christmas. 

In  Umbria  another  school  of  artists  was  at  work  de- 
veloping a  very  different  ideal  of  the  Nativity.  Silence, 
sentiment,  and  a  mystical  feeling  pervade  the  pictures 
of  Perugino.  The  very  atmosphere  is  filled  with  the 
clear  softness  of  twilight,  and  a  tender,  half- dreamy 
look  rests  on  all  the  faces.     Venice  cherished  still   an- 


90  THE    CHRIST- CHILD    IN    ART 

other  ideal.  Stronger,  richer,  and  more  earthly  in 
their  imagination,  the  Bellini  and  their  disciples  paint- 
ed the  Madonna  with  less  of  virginal  grace  and  more 
of  matronly  dignity.  The  Child  lies  upon  her  lap  or 
on  a  marble  balustrade  before  her,  and  the  mother 
looks  at  Him  with  a  face  in  which  there  is  hardly 
a  trace  of  deep  emotion.  She  is  proud,  classical,  al- 
most indifferent,  and  the  splendid  infant  sleeps  se- 
renely, or  listens  with  royal  approval  to  the  angels 
who  make  music  for  Him  with  guitar  and  violin.  In 
Padua  the  painters  were  even  more  influenced  by  clas- 
sical models  and  the  spirit  of  the  Renaissance  than  in 
Venice.  A  careful  study  of  their  pictures  is  as  good  as 
a  lesson  in  Greek  and  Roman  antiquities ;  but,  with 
the  exception  of  Mantegna  in  his  simpler  moods,  they 
have  little  to  tell  us  about  Bethlehem  and  the  wonder- 
ful birth. 

The  coincidence  of  Lionardo  da  Vinci,  Michael  An- 
gelo,  and  Raphael,  in  Florence,  at  the  beginning  of  the 
sixteenth  century,  marks  the  highest  period  of  Italian 
art.  Each  of  these  men  was  his  own  master,  although 
each  of  them  owed  much  to  his  instructors.  Michael 
Angelo  had  perhaps  the  mightiest  and  most  original 
genius  of  the  three.  But  he  never  painted  the  Nativ- 
ity. Raphael,  the  apostle  of  sweetness  and  light,  the 
worshipper  of  beauty,  the  wonderful  scholar  of  Peru- 
gino,  who  so  soon  surpassed  his  teacher,  left  no  picture 
of  the  event  of  the  Nativity.  The  Adoration  of  the 
Shepherds,  in  the  Loggie  of  the  Vatican,  is  the  work 
of  his  pupil,  Perino  del  Vaga. 

But     Raphael's    Madonna    del    Gran'    Duca    is    in 


THE   ADORATION    OF   THE    SHEPHERDS  —  MITRILI.O 
From  a  painting  in  tlie  Prado,  at  Madrid 


THfc:  NEW    YORK 

PUBLIC  LIBRAKY 


ASTOR,   LENOX  AND 
TIUDEN  FOUNDATIONS. 


THE    NATIVITY  93 

many  respects  the  most  perfect  and  lovable  of  those 
pictures  which  express  the  sentiment  and  significance 
of  the  Nativity  by  simply  showing  us  the  Virgin  with 
her  Divine  Babe.  This  little  panel,  which  hangs  now 
among  a  crowd  of  large  and  splendid  paintings  in  one 
of  the  richly  decorated  rooms  of  the  Pitti  Palace,  is 
simple  to  the  verge  of  austerity,  yet  it  has  a  soul- 
winning  charm  which  draws  one  back  to  it  again  and 
again  to  be  soothed  and  refreshed.  We  do  not  wonder 
that  the  Grand  Duke  of  Tuscany,  who  bought  it  in 
1 799,  and  from  whom  it  takes  its  name,  became  so  fond 
of  it  that  he  carried  it  about  with  him  wherever  he 
went,  even  into  exile,  and  believed  that  it  was  a  source 
of  blessing  to  his  life.  The  ground  of  the  picture  is  a 
very  dark  green ;  against  this  the  half-length  figure  of 
the  Virgin  is  in  soft  relief.  Her  robe  is  deep  blue,  her 
gown  red  with  a  black  border,  without  ornaments  or 
jewels,  and  of  that  indistinguishable  material  which 
Raphael  used  for  his  most  sacred  personages.  It  was 
not  that  he  did  not  understand  the  painting  of  brocade 
and  velvet;  his  portraits,  and  often  his  pictures  of  the 
saints,  show  a  complete  mastery  of  the  secrets  of  texture ; 
but  he  felt,  with  the  instinct  of  a  supreme  artist,  that 
there  was  a  dignity  so  high  and  a  beauty  so  divine  that 
it  had  no  need  of  artificial  adornment;  the  best  rever- 
ence that  he  could  show  would  be  to  make  the  dress 
forgotten.  Mary  s  face  is  pensive,  virginal,  exquisite, 
touched  with  the  modest  beauty  of  pure  motherhood. 
A  light  veil  protects  but  does  not  conceal  her  smooth 
brown  hair ;  her  soft  hazel  eyes  are  bent  with  a  con- 
tented gaze  upon  her  Child ;  her  upper  lip  is  slightly 


94 


THE    CHRIST- CHILD    IN    ART 


pressed  upon  the  lower  and  turned  upward  at  the  cor- 
ners, as  if  a  sweet  thought  were  passing  through  her 
mind  and  would  soon  break  into  a  tender  smile.  The 
Holy  Child  sits  lightly  upon  her  hand,  pressing  his 
right  cheek  lovingly  against  her  shoulder,  and  turning 
to  look  out  with  a  gentle,  almost  sad  gaze  upon  the 
world  which  He  came  to  save.  There  is  a  mystery  of 
unfathomable  though tfulness  in  his  eyes,  full  of  grace 
and  truth.  Yet  He  clings  to  his  mother  most  natur- 
ally ;  the  mystery  does  not  divide  them  nor  destroy  the 
soft  harmony  of  the  twofold  devotion.  We  feel,  in  the 
presence  of  this  picture,  the  power  of  the  noblest  im- 
agination to  help  faith,  and  realize  that  Divinity  is  so 
near  to  humanity  that  the  Son  of  God  could  be  born  of 
a  woman  and  rest  in  the  shelter  of  mother-love. 

Lionardo's  influence  upon  Raphael  was  distinct,  and 
it  went  far  deeper  than  the  surface,  as  we  can  see  in 
this  picture,  with  its  inward  and  inexplicable  refinement 
of  charm.  But  Lionardo,  with  all  his  varied  powers, 
perhaps  because  they  were  so  varied,  left  no  picture  of 
his  own  which  seems  fully  adequate  to  the  expression 
of  his  genius,  unless  it  was  the  "  Last  Supper,"  which 
has  faded  to  a  spectral  image  of  its  original  grandeur. 
Among  the  Milanese  painters  who  were  fascinated  by 
his  subtle  manner  and  owned  him  as  their  master, 
the  noblest  was  Bernardino  Luini.  His  conception 
of  the  Nativity  has  nothing  extraordinary  or  strik- 
ing about  it,  but  it  is  very  graceful  and  attractive. 
The  pilgrim's  flask  and  bag  tell  the  story  of  the  long 
journey  to  Bethlehem.  The  lovely  angels  bring  the  air 
of  heaven  into  the  rude  stable.     The  Virgin's  figure  is 


THE    NATIVITY  95 

sweet  and  pure.  And  Joseph  is  worthy  to  kneel  beside 
her.  For  this  last  grace  especially  we  thank  Luini. 
Many  of  the  artists  have  treated  Joseph  with  scant  re- 
spect. They  have  represented  him  as  an  ugly  and  de- 
crepit old  man.  They  have  shoved  him  away  into  a 
corner,  or  propped  him  up  against  the  wall,  ridiculously 
fast  asleep.  They  have  almost  used  him  as  a  comic 
figure  in  the  scene.  The  ox  and  the  ass  are  often  more 
venerable.  But  Luini,  with  better  authority  in  the  gos- 
pel narrative  and  the  earliest  traditions  of  Christian  art, 
has  given  us  a  noble  and  manly  Joseph,  with  a  face 
which  corresponds  to  the  dignity  and  generosity  of  his 
conduct.  I  do  not  know  a  more  serene  and  reverent 
picture  of  the  Nativity  than  this ;  and  it  loses  none  of 
its  simplicity  and  sincerity  by  the  touch  of  intellectual 
beauty  in  the  Virgin's  face,  which  Luini  could  only 
have  learned  from  Lionardo. 

But,  it  may  be  asked,  is  such  a  picture  as  this  true 
to  nature  and  history  ?  Have  we  any  right  to  imagine 
so  much  beauty  and  grace  in  the  mother  of  Jesus  ? 
Was  not  the  stable  at  Bethlehem  a  dark,  mean  place, 
and  the  Nativity,  like  every  birth,  a  scene  of  anguish 
and  confusion  ?  Is  there  not  a  touch  of  falsehood  in 
thus  idealizing  it  and  turning  it  into  poetry?  If  the 
painter  is  stricdy  accurate  and  literally  truthful,  will 
he  not  feel  bound  to  paint  a  common  girl  of  the  He- 
brew people  for  the  Virgin,  a  carpenter  of  Palestine 
for  Joseph,  an  ordinary  Eastern  cattle  shed  for  the 
stable,  and  an  uncomely  infant  for  the  Christ-child? 

But  certainly  it  would  be  a  strange  and  unreal  thing 
to  exclude  all  poetry  from  the  treatment  of  the  Nativity. 


96  THE    CHRIST- CHILD    IN    ART 

The  very  heart  and  life  of  it  is  poetry — not  poetic  fic- 
tion, but  poetic  fact.  Read  again  the  opening  chapters 
of  St.  Luke's  gospel,  and  see  if  they  are  not  overflowing 
with  the  poetry  of  the  Nativity.  The  heavenly  mes- 
sengers who  announce  Christ's  coming,  the  old  priest 
Zacharias  and  his  wife  Elizabeth,  the  venerable  Anna 
and  Simeon  waiting  in  the  temple,  Mary  herself  in  her 
maidenly  simplicity,  all  speak  in  poetry  by  a  sponta- 
neous impulse.  A  new  star  blossoms  in  the  celestial 
fields,  a  new  music  rings  through  the  vault  of  night,  a 
new  worship  calls  the  shepherds  from  their  flocks  into 
the  secret  shrine  of  incarnate  Divinity.  And  all  this, 
so  far  from  seeming  strange  and  untruthful  to  us,  must 
appear  only  natural,  and  the  strongest  confirmation  of 
the  truth  of  the  narrative.  For  if  the  Nativity  is  any- 
thing at  all,  if  there  is  any  reality  in  it,  it  is  surely  the 
one  supreme  event  of  the  world,  and  not  otherwise 
could  the  story  of  it  be  told.  As  Horace  Bushnell  has 
said :  "  Having  wings  in  the  spiritual  outfit  of  our  nat- 
ure, it  would  be  a  kind  of  celestial  impropriety  if  God's 
spirit  did  not  spread  them  here.  Why,  the  very  ground 
ought  to  let  forth  its  reverberated  music,  and  all  the 
choirs  and  lyres  and  ringing  cymbals  of  the  creation, 
between  the  two  horizons  and  above,  ought  to  be  dis- 
coursing hymns,  and  pouring  down  their  joy,  even  as 
the  stars  do  light." 

I  think,  therefore,  that  the  artist  is  true  to  the  spirit 
of  the  Nativity  when  he  rises  above  the  limitations  of  a 
hard  literalism  and  enters  into  the  ideal  mystery  and 
beauty  of  the  Holy  Night. 

What  shall  we  say,  then,  of  Correggio's  "  La  Notte," 


THE    HOLY   NIGHT 
From  a  painting  by  Fritz  von  Uhde 


THt:  NKW    YORK 

PUBLIC  LIBRARY 


ASTOR,   LENOX  AND 
TILDEN   FOUNDATION*. 

C  I 


THE    NATIVITY  99 

that  third  treasure  of  the  Dresden  Gallery,  and  most 
popular  of  all  pictures  of  the  Nativity?  There  is  no 
crude  realism  here.  It  is  an  indubitable  poem  on  can- 
vas. But  we  may  still  question  a  little  whether  the 
poetry  is  exactly  of  the  right  kind.  The  movement  is 
overstrained ;  it  lacks  repose  and  delicacy  of  rhythm. 
This  big  shepherd,  with  his  violent  gesture  of  wonder, 
this  woman  with  contracted  brows  and  hand  lifted  to 
shade  the  dazzle  of  light,  these  wonderfully  agile  celes- 
tial limbs  vibrating  in  ecstasy  —  a  man  who  truly  be- 
lieved in  the  Nativity,  and  felt  it  most  profoundly,  would 
have  left  these  out.  But  Correggio  was  too  excitable, 
too  sensuous,  too  fond  of  showing  his  skill  in  fore- 
shortening and  contrast  of  light  and  shade.  He  was  a 
wonderful  artist,  but  his  genius  was  not  pure,  sincere, 
reverent,  and  therefore  there  is  a  touch  of  affectation  in 
his  work.  He  is  like  a  preacher  who  tries  to  say  witty 
or  pretty  things  in  a  sermon  on  the  life  of  Christ,  We 
detect  the  false  note,  and  it  spoils  our  devotion. 

But,  for  all  that,  the  heart  of  this  picture  —  the 
mother  embracing  her  Child  —  remains  a  marvel  of 
beauty,  and  the  world  has  a  right  to  love  it.  It  was  no 
new  or  original  idea  to  make  all  the  light  of  the  stable 
come  from  the  Divine  Babe.  But  no  one  else  has  done 
it  so  beautifully  as  Correggio.  The  glory  that  streams 
from  the  infant  is  a  white,  brilliant,  supernatural  radi- 
ance, manifestly  of  heaven;  and  away  behind  the  hills 
the  dawning  of  the  earth-light  looks  cold  and  gray. 

The  decline  of  Italian  art  into  superficiality  and  ex- 
aggeration, in  the  latter  part  of  the  sixteenth  and  in 
the   seventeenth  centuries,  was  followed  by  a  remark- 

^  4  i 


loo  THE    CHRIST- CHILD   IN   ART 

able  development  of  genius  in  Holland  and  Flanders, 
represented  by  Rubens,  Van  Dyck,  and  Rembrandt. 
But  it  was  not  at  its  best  in  dealing  with  religious  sub- 
jects, although  the  etching- needle  of  Rembrandt  has 
wondrously  illuminated  some  of  the  scenes  from  the 
ministry  of  Christ.  In  Spain,  during  the  seventeenth 
century,  there  was  a  glorious  after-bloom  of  art  repre- 
sented by  Velasquez  and  Murillo.  Of  these  two  Velas- 
quez was  the  greater  painter,  but  Murillo  had  a  far 
more  profoundly  and  sensitively  religious  soul.  The 
record  of  his  eventful  life  is  beautified  by  the  spirit  of 
cheerful  piety,  and  active  benevolence,  and  unfailing, 
fertile  joy  in  labour.  He  was  a  child  of  the  people,  and 
a  painter  for  the  people  of  all  time.  His  pictures  are 
known  throughout  the  world,  and  have  been  more 
highly  valued  than  those  of  any  other  man  except 
Raphael.  He  could  paint  the  ragged  children  of  Se- 
ville, and  the  devout  monks  who  were  his  companions  in 
works  of  charity,  and  the  glad  angels  who  thronged  the 
heaven  of  his  holy  thoughts,  with  an  equal  skill.  He 
was  humble,  reverent,  humane,  believing,  living  well  up 
to  the  light  that  was  given  him,  loving  his  art  only  less 
than  he  loved  his  faith  and  his  fellow -men,  doing  his 
duty  as  well  as  he  could,  and  dying  in  honourable  pov- 
erty. 

This  was  the  man  who  touched  the  Nativity  once 
more  with  the  hand  of  faith  and  love,  as  the  earliest 
artists  touched  it.  His  picture  of  the  Adoration  of 
the  Shepherds,  from  the  Prado  at  Madrid,  is  painted 
in  his  middle  manner,  which  is  called  calido,  from  its 
warmth  of  colour.      No  engraver,  however  skilful  and 


THE    NATIVITY  loi 

patient,  can  hope  to  render  anything  more  than  the 
cold  shadow  and  suggestion  of  its  wonderful  effect.  It 
is  a  miracle  of  painting — warm,  rich,  full  of  a  soft  and 
mellow  charm,  satisfying  the  eye  with  its  depth  of  light 
and  colour — and  at  the  same  time  it  overflows  with  the 
purest  and  most  sacred  feeling.  See  this  old  shepherd, 
with  his  toil -hardened  feet  and  his  rugged  head;  he 
does  not  exaggerate  his  emotion  and  fling  his  arms 
about  like  Correggio's  giant,  but  the  awe  and  tenderness 
of  his  emotion  are  manifest  in  every  line  of  his  figure 
as  he  kneels  with  rude,  unconscious  grace  before  the 
new-born  Prince  of  Peace.  And  how  natural,  how  in- 
fantile, yet  how  serenely  divine  and  luminous,  is  the 
Christ-child,  over  whom  his  mother  bends  with  min- 
gled solicitude  and  adoration!  Surely  there  is  some- 
thing more  in  this  picture  than  what  Ruskin  slightingly 
calls  a  "  brown  gleam  of  gypsy  Madonnahood."  It  is  a 
perfect  illustration  of  the  old  French  Noel: 

"  Dieu  parmy  les  pastoreaux, 
Sous  la  creche  des  toreaux, 
Dans  les  champs  a  voulu  naistre, 
Et  non  parmy  les  arroys 
Des  grands  princes  et  des  roys — 
Lui  des  plus  grands  roys  le  maistre." 

The  eighteenth  century  has  little  to  offer  in  the  way 
of  sacred  art  which  is  of  any  great  value  or  significar«ce. 
In  the  beginning  of  the  nineteenth  century  there  was  a 
strange  revival  in  Germany  which  produced  the  school 
of  Overbeck  and  his  disciples.  They  devoted  themselves 
with  a  mild  fanatical  ardour  to  the  service  of  religion 


I02  THE    CHRIST- CHILD  IN    ART 

in  art  and  art  in  religion,  wearing  their  hair  long  and 
dressing  in  quaint  costume,  so  that  they  were  called 
"  the  Nazarites,"  living  together  in  the  deserted  Monas- 
tery  of  San  Isidoro  at  Rome  very  much  as  the  painter- 
monks  had  once  lived  in  the  Convent  of  San  Marco  in 
Florence.  They  went  back  to  Fra  Angelico  for  their 
inspiration,  and  much  of  their  work  seems  like  a  pale 
reflection  of  his.  But  the  movement  was  too  self-con- 
scious, too  theoretical,  too  imitative  and  formal  in  its 
methods.  It  lacked  strength  and  originality.  It  be- 
longed to  a  past  age  more  than  to  the  present.  And  so 
its  influence,  always  confined  to  a  narrow  circle,  faded 
slowly  like  a  tender  dream  of  youth,  leaving  behind  it, 
however,  a  few  amiable  and  delicate  pictures  of  the  Na- 
tivity, among  which  those  by  Carl  MiJller  of  Dussel- 
dorf  are  probably  the  most  familiar. 

In  our  own  generation  religious  painting  has  not 
been  popular.  It  has  been  overshadowed  by  other  in- 
terests. The  artists  have  devoted  themselves  to  solving 
the  problems  of  light  and  shade,  of  colour,  of  atmos- 
pheric perspective,  of  decoration,  of  vivid  pictorial  effect. 
Some  of  the  most  celebrated  reputations  have  been  won 
by  the  brilliant  and  daring  handling  of  subjects  in  them- 
selves trivial  or  unworthy.  Others  again  have  attained 
and  deserved  fame  by  their  interpretations  of  the  beauty 
of  landscape  and  the  sea,  of  the  significance  of  ancient 
mythology  and  poetry,  of  the  pathos  of  peasant  life,  of 
the  subtle  secrets  of  portraiture.  But  how  few  are  the 
pictures  in  which  the  new-found  skill  of  technique  has 
been  sincerely  and  spontaneously  devoted  to  the  service 
of  the  beautiful  gospel  of  Christ! 


]M  A  DONNA   in 
VLADIMIR 
CATHEDRAL, 
KIEFF 

From  the 

\'.  M.  Vasi'.etzofl 


THE  NEW  YORK 

PUBLIC  LIBRARY 


ASTOH,  LEN«X  AN» 
TILDEN  l^gUNOATlOK*. 


I       TILDEN  fOO 


THE    NATIVITY 


los 


And  yet  there  are  signs  of  an  awakening  in  many 
lands — an  awakening  in  which  strange  and  diverse  ele- 
ments are  at  work;  the  crudest  realism  and  the  most 
poetic  idealism ;  the  national  spirit  which  would  trans- 
late the  scenes  of  Christ's  life  into  the  dialect  of  each 
race,  and  the  universal  spirit  which  would  create  for  it 
new  types  of  general  intelligence ;  the  growth  of  his- 
torical and  scientific  knowledge  expressing  itself  in  the 
demand  for  accuracy  of  dress  and  surroundings,  and  the 
love  of  pure  beauty  seeking  chiefly  the  perfect  har- 
monies of  form  and  colour;  the  admiration  for  the 
great  work  of  the  old  masters  which  produces  a  con- 
scious or  unconscious  imitation,  and  the  spirit  of  inde- 
pendence which  cannot  bear  to  follow  any  master — all 
these  influences  are  making  themselves  felt  in  the  dif- 
ferent men  who  are  turning  back  to  the  birth  and  in- 
fancy of  Christ  as  to  a  rediscovered  theme  for  art,  and 
recognizing  that  since  it  has  meant  so  much  to  the 
greatest  artists  and  to  the  past  ages  it  may  mean  some- 
thing to  us. 

In  other  chapters  of  this  book  there  are  illustrations 
of  the  work  of  Mr.  Holman  Hunt — the  one  amons:  the 
English  pre-Raphaelites  who  has  remained  most  true 
to  the  ideals  of  that  important  school  —  of  Bouguereau, 
Luc  Olivier  Merson,  and  Lagarde  among  the  French, 
of  Prof.  Heinrich  Hofmann  among  the  Germans,  and  of 
Mr.  John  La  Farge  among  the  American  painters.  The 
head-piece  of  this  chapter  is  from  a  tender  and  sensitive 
little  sketch  by  Mr.  Du  Mond,  a  young  American.  I 
wish  that  I  could  speak  here  also  of  the  eminently 
thoughtful   and   suggestive   pictures    which   have  been 


io6  THE    CHRIST- CHILD    IN  ART 

recently  painted  by  Mr.  Abbot  Thayer  and  Mr.  George 
Hitchcock.  In  all  of  these  there  are  signs  of  promise 
for  religious  art.  But  the  two  pictures  which  have 
been  chosen  from  our  own  generation  as  illustrations 
of  the  thought  of  the  Nativity  have  each  a  peculiar 
quality  which  makes  them  especially  significant  as  inter- 
pretations of  the  theme. 

The  "  Holy  Night,"  by  Fritz  von  Uhde,  represents 
modern  realism  in  its  most  emphatic  form.  The  tech- 
nique, if  I  might  speak  of  that,  the  brush-work,  the 
handling  of  light  and  form,  the  theory  of  perspective,  are 
the  very  essence  of  modernity.  But  the  conception  of 
the  painting  is  still  more  striking.  The  picture  follows 
the  antique  arrangement  of  a  triptych.  There  are  two 
wings,  containing  the  approach  of  the  shepherds  on  one 
side  and  the  choir  of  angels  on  the  other,  and  a  central 
panel  with  the  Nativity.  But  here  all  trace  of  resem- 
blance  to  the  antique  ceases,  and  everything  is  directly 
and  literally  translated  into  modern  German.  The 
scene  is  a  barn  in  Bavaria.  In  a  rude  loft  a  bed  has 
been  hastily  improvised  and  a  man's  heavy  great -coat 
is  thrown  over  it  for  covering.  A  stable-lantern  hangs 
against  the  wall.  Joseph  is  half  asleep  upon  the  steps 
of  a  ladder  in  the  background.  Mary  is  a  peasant  girl 
of  the  plainest  type,  ill-clad  and  weary.  The  light 
from  the  lantern,  shining  through  the  cold,  misty  air, 
seems  to  throw  a  halo  about  her.  A  great  joy  illumi- 
nates her  face,  and  her  hands  are  clasped  in  a  natural 
gesture  of  ecstasy  as  she  bends  over  the  Child  who  is 
curled  helplessly  upon  her  lap.  Is  the  realism  carried 
too  far?     Is  the  accent  of  homeliness,  of  utter  poverty 


THE    NATIVITY 


107 


too  strong,  so  that  in  time,  when  the  impression  of 
novelty  wears  off,  it  will  seem  strained  and  false  ?  Time 
alone  can  answer  that  question  and  determine  whether 
the  picture  is  only  an  experiment  or  a  lasting  work  of 
art.  But  for  the  present  we  may  value  it  as  a  sincere 
protest  against  the  unreal  and  faithless  painting  of  the 
Nativity  which  makes  it  only  an  insipid  arrangement 
of  lay-figures,  a  tableau  in  a  sacred  drama,  or  an  unbe- 
lieving imitation  of  a  picture  by  one  of  the  old  masters. 
This  work  at  least  has  the  vitality  of  a  fact  in  it.  It 
means  to  bring  the  gospel  close  to  the  heart  of  the 
common  people ;  and  if  it  helps  to  bring  the  heart  of  the 
common  people  close  to  the  gospel  it  will  fulfil  a  noble 
mission.  It  is  a  Folk-song  of  the  Nativity  in  South 
German  dialect.  And  may  not  this  also  be  a  sacred 
language  if  it  conveys  a  word  of  God  ? 

The  Russian  "  Madonna  and  Child,"  from  the  cathe- 
dral at  Kieff,  belongs  to  the  same  class  of  pictures  as 
Raphael's  Madonna  del  Gran'  Duca;  but  how  immense 
is  the  difference  in  conception !  The  Virgin's  face, 
true  to  the  traditions  of  the  Greek  Church,  conveys  a 
reminiscence  of  the  old  Byzantine  type.  But  her  figure, 
conceived  in  the  modern  spirit,  is  simply  yet  majesti- 
cally placed  in  a  vague,  dim  landscape,  stretching  away 
in  the  twilight  like  the  faint  outline  of  a  great  continent, 
above  which  she  towers  till  her  head  seems  to  be  amonor 
the  stars.  The  Christ-child,  pale,  solemn,  wide-eyed,  a 
child  of  Divine  sorrow  and  hope,  lifts  his  arms  with  a 
gesture  of  indescribable  exultation,  as  if  He  would  pro- 
claim liberty  to  all  the  inhabitants  of  a  suffering  land. 
Is  it  a  dream,  or  do  we  truly  read  here  a  speechless 

6 


io8  THE   CHRIST-CHILD    IN   ART 

eloquent  gospel  of  peace  that  is  coming  to  a  nation  at 
strife  with  itself,  and  of  emancipation  that  shall  set  the 
prisoners  free,  and  of  rest  that  shall  descend  upon  the 
weary  and  heavy-laden  from  Him  who  was  born  a 
peasant  in  a  captive  land,  to  become  the  Deliverer  of 
the  oppressed  and  the  world's  true  Leader  into  light 
and  liberty  ? 


IV 


In  art  all  that  is  sincere  and  expressive  and  masterly 
is  valuable.  There  is  no  school  that  has  the  monopoly 
of  merit,  no  way  of  painting  that  is  the  only  right  way. 
In  religion  all  that  is  pure  and  reverent  and  spiritual  is 
precious.  There  is  no  exclusiveness  in  true  piety  or 
virtue.  The  thought  of  God  is  always  "  larger  than  the 
measure  of  man  s  mind,"  and  each  soul  discerns  but  a 
fragment  of  it.  As  we  look  back  upon  the  manifold 
interpretations  of  the  Nativity  that  art  has  given  to  the 
world  we  may  value  all  that  are  significant  and  genuine 
and  beautiful,  feeling  one  fine  quality  in  one  and  another 
profound  meaning  in  another.  And  yet  none  of  them 
may  completely  satisfy  us.  All  that  the  past  has  done 
will  not  sufiice  for  the  present.  For  the  birth  of  Christ 
has  a  message  in  it  which  is  inexhaustible  and  needs  to 
be  interpreted  anew  to  every  age,  to  every  race. 

Two  great  movements  have  taken  place  in  our  own 
times  which  must  have  an  influence  upon  the  future. 
One  is  the  earnest  effort  to  understand  the  historic  life 
of  Christ,  proceeding  in  part,  at  first,  from  a  sceptical 


THE    NATIVITY  109 

impulse  and  working  with  an  anti-Christian  purpose, 
but  awakening  by  this  very  purpose  the  dormant  ener- 
gies of  Christian  scholarship,  and  resulting  more  and 
more  triumphantly  with  every  year  in  a  firmer  concep- 
tion of  the  eternal  reality  of  the  person  of  Jesus.  The 
other  movement  is  the  revival  of  popular  interest  in 
art  and  the  effort  to  make  it  minister  more  widely  to 
human  happiness  and  elevation.  As  yet  these  two 
movements  have  not  fully  interpenetrated  one  another, 
although  there  are  evidences  that  they  are  coming 
into  closer  contact.  When  the  true  relation  between 
them  is  established ;  when  Christian  theology  has  fully 
returned  to  its  vital  centre  in  Christ,  and  its  divided 
forces  are  reunited,  amid  the  hostile  camps  and  war- 
ring elements  of  modern  society,  in  a  simple  and  po- 
tent ministry  of  deliverance  and  blessing  to  all  the 
oppressed  and  comfortless  "In  His  Name;"  when  art 
has  felt  the  vivid  reality  and  the  ideal  beauty  of  this 
humane  gospel  of  the  personal  entrance  of  God  into 
the  life  of  man,  and  has  come  back  to  it  for  what  art 
needs  to-day  more  than  all  else — a  deep,  living,  spiritual 
impulse  and  inspiration — then  art  will  render  a  more 
perfect  service  to  religion,  and  religion  will  give  a  new 
elevation  to  art.  The  noblest  subjects  will  become  the 
painters'  favourite  themes.  The  marvel  of  the  Nativity 
will  be  interpreted  again  with  new  meanings  of  im- 
mortal loveliness  and  truth.  The  priceless  skill  of  the 
greatest  artists  will  be  employed  once  more  to  paint 
and  carve  upon  the  walls  of  hospitals  and  asylums  and 
refuges  for  poor  and  helpless  children  of  earth  the 
vision  of  the  Christ-child  shining  in  his  lowly  cradle, 


no  THE    CHRIST- CHILD    IN    ART 

sheltered  and  worshipped  by  pure  mother -love.  Amid 
works  of  benevolence  and  works  of  art,  beautiful  to  the 
sense  and  to  the  soul,  living  faith  will  join  hands  with 
reverent  imagination  at  the  birthplace  of  the  Son  of 
God,  who  became  a  human  child  in  order  that  the  sons 
of  men  might  become  the  children  of  God. 


THE  ADORATION   OF  THE   MAGI 


See  how  from  far  upon  the  eastern  road 
The  star-led  wizards  haste  with  odours  sweet: 
O  run,  prevent  them  with  thy  humble  ode. 
And  Jay  it  lowly  at  his  blessed  feet ; 
Have  thou  the  honour  first  thy  Lord  to  greet, 

And  Join  thy  voice  unto  the  Angel  quire. 
From  out  his  secret  altar  touched  with  hallowed  fire. 

John  Milton 


Bote  tojjen  ^tme  teas  born  in  -^Setl^lel^eitt  of  '^nbtR  in  tf)e 
iapfi  of  l^eroU  t^e  kins,  hej)olU,  tl)crc  came  toifie  men  from 
t^t  eaet  to  ^^erusalem, 

^aptnff,  (SSa^ere  tg  I)e  t^at  is  born  Mtnff  of  t()e  3fetDS  ? 
for  tec  {)aije  seen  I)i6  star  in  ti)t  cast,  anU  are  come  to  toor-- 
fif)tp  f)tm. 

5^I)cn  |)eroir  t^e  king:  bati  i)eartj  tjiese  tjjinfffi,  l)e  toas 
trottbleU,  ani  all  ^fcrnsalem  toit^  I)im. 

Slnii  tuljen  f)e  l&aU  ffatdereU  all  tl)e  ci)tcf  priefits  anil  scribes 
of  tj)e  people  tosetjicr,  l)e  Hemanieli  of  t^em  tD|)ere  (JDbrifit 
Bl)oal1)  be  born. 

Slnl  t{)ep  saiU  unto  lbim,^n  ©etl&lel)em  of  ^uUea:  for  t^vm 
it  is  toritten  bp  t^e  pjcopliet, 

^nU  t()ou  ^et()le|)em,  in  t|)c  lanU  of  ^Tn^al)*  art  not  tl^e 
least  amonff  tl)e  princes  of  ^ntiali :  for  out  of  ti)tt  sl)all  come 
a  (Sobernor,  t()at  sjjall  rule  mp  people  Israel. 

Cden  |)craii,  tol)en  l}t  fiaU  pribilp  callei  tfie  toise  men, 
inquirei  of  t()em  iilisentlp  tol^at  time  tl)e  star  appeared. 

9tnti  lit  sent  tl)em  to  -JSetiileljem,  anli  saili,  <3o  an!  search 
iiliffentlp  for  tl^c  poung;  cl)iUr ;  anli  tD()en  pe  |)abe  fonnU  ()im, 
brinff  me  toorli  again,  t^at  2f  map  come  anU  toorsjjip  Um  also. 

SL^Ijen  tl)ep  ball  ()ear5  t()e  feing,  tljep  UeparteU ;  nnb,  lo, 
tfje  star,  tobicl)  tf^tf  sato  in  t|)e  east,  toent  before  tl)em,  till  it 
came  anli  stool  ober  tDl)ere  tfft  pounff  c()illi  tuas. 

615EI)en  tl)ep  sato  t()e  star,  tdep  reioiceU  \Dit\f  ejcceeiiingf 
great  jop. 

SlnlJ  toben  tl^ep  tocre  come  into  tl)e  ()oiise,  tljep  sain  t()e 

pounff  cf)iHi  toitl)  JHarp  bis  mother,  anil  fell  tioton,  ani  toor= 

Bl)ippeti  ()im :  anl  tol)en  t|)ep  I)ali  openeU  tjjcir  treasures,  tljep 

presenteU  unto  ()im  gifts ;  go  15,  anU  franliincense,  ani  mprr^. 

^Titi  being  toarnei  of  (25o5  in  a  tsream  t|)at  t{)ep  sboulU 

not  return  to  |)ercit,  tl)ep  trepartets  into  ti)eir  oton  countrp 

anot|)er  toap. — St.  Matthew,  ii.  1-12. 


MOSAIC   FROM   THE   CHURCH   OF   S.   APOLLINARE   NUOVO,    RAVENNA 


I 


iHE  story  of  the  Wise  Men  who  came  from 
the  East  to  pay  their  homage  to  the  Holy 
Child  at  Bethlehem  has  always  been  a  fa- 
vourite theme  of  Christian  art  and  legend.  It  was 
depicted  everywhere :  on  the  walls  of  the  Catacombs ; 
on  the  sculptured  faces  of  sarcophagi ;  in  the  glitter- 
ing mosaics  of  the  basilicas ;  in  the  palaces  of  the  rich 
and  the  churches  of  the  poor;  on  gilded  drinking- 
glasses,  and  carved  doors,  and  marble  pulpits,  and 
painted  ceilings,  and  bronze  coins,  and  jewelled  shrines 
— everywhere  that  art  has  left  its  touch  we  see  the 
Magi  worshipping  the  infant  Saviour.  From  the  sec- 
ond century  the  long,  rich  train  of  representations 
runs  on  unbroken  through  the  nineteenth.  We  may 
safely  say  that  there  is  no  subject  in  the  range  of 
history,  sacred  or  profane,  which  has  received  more 
splendid  illustration. 

Side  by  side  with  this  stream  of  pictures  and  carv. 

8 


„.  THE   CHRIST-CHILD   IN    ART 

114 

ings  runs  the  kindred  current  of  imagination  speaking 
to  the  ear  instead  of  to  the  eye.  Traditions  and  fables, 
myths  and  allegories,  fragments  of  history  and  philoso- 
phy, poems  and  plays  and  chronicles,  gather  about  the 
story  in  marvellous  abundance.  It  is  like  a  trellis 
overgrown  with  vines,  so  luxuriant,  so  fertile  in  leaves 
and  blossoms,  that  the  outline  of  the  sustaining  struct- 
ure is  almost  lost.  It  would  be  easy  for  one  who 
looked  at  it  carelessly  to  suppose  that  the  whole  fabric 
was  flowery  and  fictitious,  with  nothing  substantial 
about  it.  On  the  other  hand,  it  is  no  less  easy  to  mis- 
take the  growth  of  fancy  for  the  framework  of  history, 
and  accept  the  later  legends  as  if  they  belonged  to 
the  original  narrative.     I  suppose  the  hymn, 

"We  three  kings  of  Orient  are," 

is  sung  in  many  a  Protestant  Sunday-school  in  hearty 
unconsciousness  that  its  first  line  embodies  two  purely 
ecclesiastical  traditions. 

Our  first  task,  then,  if  we  would  understand  the 
Adoration  of  the  Magi,  is  to  go  back  to  the  simple  nar- 
rative as  it  is  given  in  the  original  records  of  Chris- 
tianity. Then  we  must  trace  the  growth  of  the  legends 
which  have  formed  about  it,  and  then  at  length  we  can 
hope  to  comprehend  and  appreciate  something  of  the 
works  of  art  in  which  it  has  been  illustrated.  Pictures 
and  sculptures  tell  the  story  of  religion  as  veraciously 
as  the  decrees  of  councils  and  the  chronicles  of  his- 
torians. But  their  meaning  does  not  lie  upon  the  sur- 
face.     It  yields  itself  only  to  him  who  studies   them 


1  HE  WISE  MEN 
A.\D  THE  STAK- 
HOGEK 
VAN  DER 
WEYDEN 

l-ri'iii  .1  paintingf 
ill  the  Berlin 
M.i-cum 


THK  NEW   YOBK 

PUBLIC  LIBRARY 


ASTOR,   LENOX  AND 
TILDEN  FOUNDATION*. 


THE    ADORATION    OF   THE    MAGI  117 

with  care  and  patience  in  the  light  of  the  age  from 
which  they  came. 

The  story  of  the  Magi,  as  it  is  given  by  the  evan- 
geHst  Matthew,  is  astonishingly  brief  and  unadorned. 
He  tells  us  without  preface  that  when  Jesus  was  born 
in  Bethlehem  certain  foreigners  arrived  at  Jerusalem. 
He  does  not  tell  us  how  many  they  were,  nor  of  what 
race,  nor  of  what  station  in  life ;  although  it  is  fair  to 
infer  from  the  consideration  with  which  they  were  re- 
ceived at  the  court  of  Herod,  and  from  the  fact  that 
they  carried  treasure  boxes  with  them,  that  they  were 
persons  of  wealth  and  distinction.  The  most  impor- 
tant statement  in  regard  to  them  is  that  they  were 
Magians — that  is  to  say,  disciples  of  Zoroaster,  and 
members  of  the  sacred  or  priestly  order  of  Persia, 
which  was  then  widely  scattered  among  the  Oriental 
nations,  and  included  men  of  exalted  rank.  They  came 
from  the  East,  a  word  which  to  the  dwellers  in  Pales- 
tine could  hardly  have  any  other  meaning  than  the 
ancient  region  of  Chaldea,  lying  beyond  the  Jordan 
and  the  desert.  Their  explanation  of  their  journey 
to  Herod  was  that  they  had  seen  an  appearance  in  the 
heavens  (whether  one  star,  or  many,  or  a  comet,  they 
did  not  say)  which  led  them  to  believe  that  the  King 
of  the  Jews  had  been  born,  and  they  had  come  to  do 
reverence  to  Him.  Herod  was  greatly  troubled  at  hear- 
ing this,  and  sent  for  the  chief  priests  and  scribes  ^o  in- 
quire where  the  prophets  had  foretold  that  the  Messiah 
should  be  born.  They  answered  at  once  that  Bethle^ 
hem  was  the  chosen  place.  Then  Herod,  having  asked 
the  Magi  how  long  it  was  since  they  first  saw  the  ap- 


Ii8  THE   CHRIST- CHILD   IN    ART 

pearance  in  the  sky,  sent  them  away  to  Bethlehem, 
promising  that  when  they  had  found  the  young  Christ 
he  also  would  come  to  do  reverence  to  Him.  Having 
set  out  on  their  journey,  they  saw  once  more  the 
celestial  sign ;  and  it  directed  them  to  the  place  where 
Jesus  was.  Coming  into  the  house  (for  Joseph  had 
now  found  better  shelter  than  a  stable),  they  saw  the 
young  Child  with  Mary  his  mother,  and  prostrated 
themselves  in  worship.  Opening  their  treasure  chests, 
they  presented  to  Him  gifts  of  gold  and  frankincense 
and  myrrh.  Then  being  warned  in  a  dream  not  to  go 
back  to  Herod,  they  took  another  road  into  their  own 
country. 

It  must  be  confessed  that  if  we  accept  the  tradition 
as  a  part  of  the  narrative,  and  suppose  that  what  they 
saw  in  the  sky  was  a  single  star  which  moved  directly 
in  front  of  them  all  through  their  journey,  and  finally 
took  its  stand  just  over  the  door  of  the  house  of  Joseph 
in  Bethlehem,  it  would  be  difficult  to  parallel  the 
story.  But  if  we  take  the  account  as  it  is  given  by 
the  evangelist,  we  find  a  remarkable  light  thrown 
upon  it  by  the  discoveries  of  modern  astronomy. 
The  conjunction  of  the  planets  Jupiter  and  Saturn 
is  one  of  the  rarest  of  celestial  events.  It  occurs 
only  once  in  eight  hundred  years.  This  conjunction, 
all  astronomers  agree,  happened  no  less  than  three 
times  in  the  year  747  a.u.c,  shortly  before  the  birth 
of  Christ.  In  the  following  year  it  took  place  again, 
and  now  the  planet  Mars  joined  the  conjunction.  In 
1604  the  astronomer  Kepler  observed  a  similar  con- 
junction, and  saw,  between  Jupiter  and  Saturn,  a  new. 


THE    ADORATION    OF   THE   MAGI  119 

brilliant,  evanescent  star.  The  astronomical  tables  of 
the  Chinese,  which  are  the  most  ancient  records  of 
the  sky,  mention  a  star  of  the  same  character,  which, 
according  to  the  best  calculations,  appeared  and  van- 
ished in  the  year  750  a.u.c.  These  strange  things  must 
have  been  visible  to  all  who  observed  the  heavens  in 
that  year.  Certainly  they  could  be  seen  from  Jeru- 
salem, and  to  one  leaving  that  city  they  would  appear 
to  lead  in  the  direction  of  Bethlehem.  It  may  be  that 
we  have  here,  in  this  "fairy  tale  of  science,"  a  confir- 
mation of  this  beautiful  story  of  religion,  a  hint  and 
trace  of 

"the  light  that  led 
The  holy  elders  with  their  gift  of  myrrh." 

Once  having  entered  the  house  and  found  the  Child 
whom  they  sought,  their  conduct  in  his  presence  could 
hardly  have  been  different  from  that  which  is  described 
by  the  evangelist.  Their  deep  obeisance  was  a  sign  of 
that  religious  reverence  with  which  every  Persian  was 
accustomed  to  regard  a  king.  The  gifts  which  they 
took  from  their  treasuries  were  appropriate  to  the 
region  from  which  they  were  brought  and  the  person 
to  whom  they  were  presented.  It  may  even  be  that 
the  Magians  attached  a  symbolical  meaning  to  them, 
for  the  language  of  the  Orient  is  figurative ;  and  per- 
haps the  old  Church  father,  Irenaeus,  gives  us  historic 
truth  as  well  as  poetic  beauty  when  he  represents  the 
Wise  Men  as  offering  gold  to  the  royalty,  and  incense 
to  the  divinity,  and  myrrh  to  the  humanity  of  the  new- 
born King. 


I20  THE   CHRIST- CHILD    IN    ART 

It  is  no  wonder  that  the  Christians  of  Rome,  paint- 
ing upon  the  walls  of  their  underground  hiding-places 
and  cemeteries  those  rude  but  cheerful  pictures,  like 
bright  flowers  blossoming  in  the  darkness,  which  ex- 
pressed the  hope  and  joy  of  their  early  faith,  fixed 
upon  this  story  as  one  of  the  first  subjects  of  their  art. 
It  spoke  to  them  of  the  coming  triumph  of  their  re- 
ligion, and  of  the  glory  and  dignity  which  touched  the 
Christ  even  in  his  cradle.  For  the  chapel  and  for  the 
grave  it  had  a  word  of  promise,  glad,  generous,  and 
exultant.  In  the  hands  of  these  first  artists  the  pict- 
ure corresponded  with  the  simplicity  of  the  gospel  nar- 
rative.    It  was  little  more  than  a  sketch,  a  vague  out- 


FRESCO    FROM    THE    CATACOMBS 


line,  without  fixed  form  or  curious  detail.  The  number 
of  the  Magi  varied  from  six  to  two.  One  of  the  ear- 
liest  of  these  paintings  is  from  the  Catacomb  of  SS. 
MarcelHnus  and  Peter  at  Rome.  Mary  is  seated  in  a 
large  chair;   her  brown  hair  is  unveiled,  as  a  sign  of 


THE   ADORATION    OF   THE   MAGI  121 

her  virginity,  her  bare  feet  are  crossed,  and  her  eyes 
are  downcast.  She  holds  the  Child  in  her  arms.  Two 
Magi  approach,  one  from  either  side,  and  present  their 
gifts  in  golden  dishes.  There  is  no  sign  of  royalty 
about  them;  but  their  Phrygian  caps,  short  tunics,  and 
mantles  show  that  they  come  from  the  East.  This 
picture  dates  from  the  first  half  of  the  third  century. 

As  we  go  on  tracing  the  subject  through  the  long 
series  of  representations  in  the  fourth  and  fifth  and 
sixth  centuries  we  find  its  form  becoming  more  fixed 
and  particular.  New  details  are  added :  an  open  book, 
to  show  that  the  Magi  were  familiar  with  the  prophecy 
of  Balaam ;  a  star  above  the  Child,  to  show  the  way  in 
which  He  was  recognized ;  an  old  man  standing  behind 
the  chair  of  Mary  and  pointing  upward,  to  represent 
Joseph,  or  the  prophet  Isaiah,  or  the  Holy  Ghost;  the 
heads  of  camels,  to  tell  the  story  of  the  journey.  The 
number  of  the  pilgrims  is  fixed  at  three,  to  correspond 
with  the  number  of  their  gifts,  and  perhaps  also  with 
the  three  Hebrew  children  at  the  court  of  Nebuchad- 
nezzar, whose  story  is  frequently  given  as  the  compan- 
ion piece  to  that  of  the  Magi.  At  length  the  crowns 
appear,  in  the  great  mosaic  of  S.  Apollinare  Nuovo,  in 
Ravenna  (a.d.  534).  Byzantine  art  shows  us  the  "three 
kings  of  Orient,"  stiff,  formal,  glittering  with  gold  and 
jewels,  as  they  stride  with  equal  step  to  present  their 
offerings  to  the  Madonna  and  her  Child,  enthroned  in 
state  and  guarded  by  four  archangels  with  star-tipped 
sceptres. 


122  THE   CHRIST- CHILD   IN    ART 


II 


Here  we  find  ourselves  in  the  midst  of  the  great 
stream  of  legends,  which  takes  its  rise  in  the  apocry- 
phal gospel  of  St.  Thomas,  and  flows  on,  through  ser- 
mons, and  mysteries,  and  miracle-plays,  and  poems,  and 
chronicles,  until  finally  there  is  hardly  any  conceivable 
question  which  pious  curiosity  could  ask  about  the 
Magi  for  which  the  pious  fabulist  had  not  a  ready  an- 
swer. Some  of  these  legends  are  very  beautiful,  and 
some  of  them  are  very  grotesque.  There  is  great 
store  of  them  to  be  found  in  the  Legenda  Aurea  of 
Jacobus  de  Voragine,  and  in  the  quaint  old  German 
poems  of  Peter  Suchenwirth,  Konrad  of  Fussesbrunn, 
Walther  of  Rheinau,  and  the  clever  Lady  Hros- 
witha,  the  "  White  Rose "  of  the  cloister  of  Gander- 
sheim.  It  would  be  a  long  task  to  enumerate  them 
all,  and  trace  them  to  their  sources.  But  let  us  imag- 
ine a  monk  of  the  fifteenth  century  preaching  at  the 
feast  of  Epiphany  in  the  Cathedral  of  Cologne.  The 
long  procession,  with  swinging  censers,  and  tinkling 
bells,  and  waving  banners,  has  carried  the  splendid 
golden  shrine  of  the  Magi,  crusted  with  precious 
stones,  in  its  solemn  circuit  of  the  church.  The  music 
dies  away,  and  the  preacher  mounts  the  pulpit  and 
unfolds  the  familiar  tale  of  wonder. 

"  In  this  casket,  my  children,  sleep  the  bones  of  three 
mighty  kings.  Caspar,  Melchior,  and  Balthasar  were 
their  names,  but  in  Greek  they  were  called  Galgalat, 
Malgalat,  and  Sarithin.     Now  Caspar  was  sixty  years 


SHRINE    OF    THE    THREE    KINGS,   IN    THE    COLOGNE    CA  IHEDRAL 
From  a  photograph  by  the  Arundel  Society,  London 


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old,  and  he  came  from  Arabia;  Balthasar  was  forty 
years  old,  and  he  was  black,  for  he  came  from  Saba ; 
Melchior  was  twenty  years  old,  and  his  country  was 
Tarshish.  These  kings  had  heard  the  word  of  the 
prophet  Balaam  that  a  star  should  come  out  of  Jacob, 
and  they  waited  for  its  appearance.  Moreover,  certain 
great  miracles  had  happened  to  them.  One  of  them 
had  seen  an  ostrich  hatch  an  egg,  out  of  which  came 
a  lion  and  a  lamb.  Another  had  beheld  a  flower  more 
beautiful  than  a  rose,  growing  on  a  vine,  and  out  of  it 
flew  a  dove  which  prophesied  of  Christ;  and  the  last 
had  a  child  born  to  him  which  foretold  the  birth  and 
death  of  Jesus,  and  after  thirty-three  days,  as  the  child 
had  said,  it  died.  So  these  kings  did  use  to  go  to- 
gether to  a  mighty  pleasant  place,  with  fountains  and 
choice  trees,  on  the  side  of  a  high  mountain,  called 
Mons  Victorialis,  to  watch  for  the  star.  And  suddenly, 
while  they  were  praying,  with  hands  and  eyes  lifted  up, 
it  appeared  to  them  in  the  form  of  a  little  babe,  exceed- 
ing bright  and  shining,  so  that  all  the  other  stars  were 
lost  in  its  brightness.  Then  these  kings  were  very 
glad,  and  gat  them  in  haste  upon  their  dromedaries, 
and  followed  the  star  day  and  night,  without  eating  or 
sleeping,  till  they  came  on  the  thirteenth  day  to  Jeru- 
salem. And  some  say  they  went  so  swiftly  because 
God  helped  them ;  but  it  may  have  been,  my  children, 
that  the  dromedaries  were  very  fast. 

•'  Now  when  they  had  inquired  of  Herod  the  place 
in  which  the  King  of  the  Jews  should  be  born,  they 
went  on  to  Bethlehem ;  and  the  star,  going  before 
them,  stood  still  over  the  very  house  where  Jesus  was 


126  THE   CHRIST- CHILD    IN    ART 

dwelling.  So  they  entered,  and  found  the  Holy  Vir- 
gin and  the  Child,  and  worshipped  them,  offering  gifts. 
And  Melchior  gave  thirty  pieces  of  gold,  the  same 
Vv'hich  had  been  made  by  Terah,  the  father  of  Abra- 
ham, and  given  by  Joseph  to  the  Sabeans  as  the  price 
of  the  spices  with  which  he  embalmed  the  body  of 
Jacob,  and  brought  again  by  the  Queen  of  Sheba  when 
she  came  to  visit  King  Solomon.  Nor  did  the  three 
kings  forget  the  parents  of  our  blessed  Lord,  for  as 
they  were  departing  they  gave  to  the  Virgin  money 
and  silken  robes,  and  to  Joseph  gold  and  jewels.  And 
Mary  gave  to  them  one  of  the  linen  bands  in  which 
the  child  was  swaddled,  which  they  kept  as  a  great 
treasure,  for  when  it  was  cast  into  the  fire  the  flames 
had  no  power  upon  it,  but  it  came  out  whole. 

"  Now  an  angel  had  spoken  unto  them  in  a  dream 
that  they  should  not  return  to  Herod,  for  he  was  seek- 
ing to  destroy  them  and  the  young  child  also.  So 
they  took  ship,  and  went  around  by  Tarshish  into  their 
own  country.  But  after  they  had  departed  the  star  fell 
into  a  deep  well  hard  by  the  house.  And  in  that  place, 
my  children,  a  great  wonder  is  seen.  For  those  who 
look  into  the  well  behold  the  star  in  the  bowels  of 
the  earth,  moving  from  one  side  of  the  well  to  the 
other,  just  as  if  it  were  in  the  sky.  But  when  many 
persons  are  looking  in,  the  star  appears  only  to  those 
who  are  wisest  and  most  sound  in  mind.  And  this 
doubtless  is  the  reason  why  that  French  deacon  from 
the  church  of  Tours  who  went  lately  to  the  Holy  Land 
could  not  see  the  star,  though  he  looked  long  into  the 
well. 


-|-^Twr^ 


>^ 


ONE   OF    THE    MAGI — BENOZZO    GdZZoLI 
From  the  fresco  in  the  Palazzo  Riccardi,  Florence 


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129 


"  iVow  many  years  after  the  three  kings  had  returned 
to  their  country  the  holy  apostle  Thomas  travelled 
thither  and  baptized  them  in  the  Christian  faith.  So 
they  went  out  to  preach,  and  were  slain  by  the  bar- 
barous Gentiles  of  the  far  East.  But  the  holy  Em- 
press Helena  of  blessed  memory  discovered  their 
bones,  and  brought  them  to  Constantinople.  From 
there  they  were  carried  to  Milan,  and  not  long  after 
the  Emperor  Barbarossa  brought  them  from  that  place 
unto  our  own  city.  Here  at  last  the  bones  of  these 
great  travellers  and  wise  kings  find  their  rest,  and  have 
worked  many  great  miracles,  and  are  the  glory  of  our 
city,  so  that  you,  my  children,  must  rejoice  in  them, 
and  give  liberally  of  your  gold  that  this  cathedral  may 
be  finished  to  the  praise  of  God  and  the  honour  of  the 
three  kings." 

Something  like  this  was  the  legend  which  the  curi- 
ous fancy  of  the  Middle  Ages  evolved  out  of  the  his- 
tory told  by  St.  Matthew.  A  modern  version  of  it,  less 
miraculous  but  more  realistic  and  picturesque,  is  given 
in  the  opening  chapter  of  Be7t-Hur,  with  its  three  cam- 
els emerging  suddenly  from  the  unknown,  and  its  mys- 
tic meeting  of  the  travellers  in  the  lonely  valley  of  the 
desert.  If  we  wish  illustrations  for  the  story,  there  is 
hardly  a  single  point  of  it  for  which  we  cannot  find 
some  creation  of  art,  grotesque,  or  quaint,  or  lovely,  as 
the  genius  of  the  artist  and  the  spirit  of  his  age  and 
country  may  have  moulded  his  work. 

Would  you  be  certified  of  the  names  of  the  kings  ? 
Here  the  sculptor  has  carved  them  for  you  on  a  relief 
over  the  portal  of  S.  Andrea  in   Pistoia.     Would  you 


I30 


THE   CHRIST- CHILD    IN    ART 


know  how  the  star  appeared  to  them  ?  Taddeo  Gaddi 
will  show  you  in  the  church  of  Santa  Croce  at  Flor- 
ence. Would  you  follow  their  pilgrimage  ?  You  may 
do  so  under  the  guidance  of  Andrea  del  Sarto  in  the 
cloisters  of  Sta.  Annunziata ;  or  if  you  prefer  a  modern 
picture,  Mr.  Edwin  A.  Abbey  has  drawn  it  for  you  in 
black  and  white.  Would  you  behold  them  before 
Herod  ?  You  have  only  to  look  at  the  ceiling  of  the 
cloister -church  at  Lambach,  or  the  chancel  arch  of 
S.  Maria  Maggiore  at  Rome.  Would  you  watch  their 
adoration  of  the  Christ -child?  Meister  Stephan  will 
display  it  to  you  above  the  high  altar  of  Cologne,  or 
Hans  Memlinc  in  the  hospital  at  Bruges,  or  Andrea 
Mantegna  in  the  Ufhzi,  or  Domenico  Ghirlandajo  in 
the  chapel  of  the  Innocents  at  Florence,  or  Francia  in 
the  picture-gallery  at  Dresden,  or  Titian  in  the  muse- 
um at  Madrid,  or  Niccolo  Pisano  on  the  glorious  pul- 
pits of  Pisa  and  Sienna,  or  Paul  Veronese  in  the 
National  Gallery  at  London,  or  Sodoma  in  the  church 
of  San  Agostino  at  Sienna.  Would  you  know  how 
Joseph  looked  when  he  received  his  present?  There 
he  is,  in  Fra  Angelico's  lovely  panel  in  the  Academy  at 
Florence.  Would  you  see  the  kings  warned  in  their 
dream  to  keep  away  from  Herod  ?  They  are  sleeping 
on  the  portal  of  the  cathedral  at  Benevento  and  on  Gio- 
vanni Pisano's  pulpit  at  Pistoia.  Would  you  behold 
their  embarkation  in  the  ship  of  Tarshish  ?  Benedetto 
Bonfigli  shows  their  return  by  sea  in  his  picture  at 
Perugia,  and  Gentile  da  Fabriano  has  put  it  into  the 
background  of  his  great  painting  at  Florence.  You  have 
only  to  choose  what  you  want — devout  feeling,  or  gor- 


THE    ADORATION    OF    THE    MAGI  —  Ft'BENS 
From  a  painting  in  the  Museum  at  Antwerp 


n 


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TILOEN  FCUNIATIOM. 

C  I- 


THE   ADORATION    OF   THE    MAGI  133 

geous  colour,  or  dramatic  intensity,  the  patient  realism 
of  Germany  or  the  splendid  idealism  of  Italy,  marble 
or  wood-carving,  bronze  or  mosaic,  fresco  or  oil-paint- 
ing— and  you  shall  have  it  from  the  hand  of  a  master. 


Ill 


Let  us  take  live  illustrations  of  the  story,  two  from 
the  fifteenth  century,  one  from  the  seventeenth,  and 
two  more  from  the  nineteenth. 

The  painting  by  Roger  van  der  Weyden  represents 
the  Appearance  of  the  Star  to  the  Wise  Men.  It  is 
one  of  the  side-panejs  of  the  triptych  in  the  Berlin 
Museum,  of  which  we  have  already  studied  the  central 
picture  in  the  chapter  on  the  Nativity.  The  other  side- 
panel  depicts  the  legend. oX«..tbe.  vision  in  which  the 
Roman  sibyl  shows  the  Virgin  and  Child  to  the  Em- 
peror Augustus  (a  portrait  of  Philip  the  Good).  It  was 
painted  in  1450,  and  apart  from  its  value  as  a  work  of 
earnest  and  devout  Flemish  art,  it  has  especial  interest  as 
an  evidence  of  the  fact  that  some  of  the  legendary  addi- 
tions to  the  story  of  the  Magi  made  an  earlier  impression 
upon  northern  than  upon  southern  art.  In  the  pictures 
which  the  Florentines,  Fra  Angelico  and  Benozzo  Goz- 
zoli,  were  painting  about  this  time  we  find,  for  example, 
no  trace  of  the  legend  that  one  of  the  kings  was  a  black 
man,  and  the  ages  of  the  three  are  not  always  distinctly 
marked.  But  Van  der  Weyden  has  embodied  all  the 
details  of  the   stor\^  in  his  picture;    the  star  appears 


134 


THE    CHRIST-CHILD    IN    ART 


miraculously  in  the  form  of  a  shining  babe ;  one  of  the 
kings  is  black,  with  thick  lips  and  woolly  hair ;  and, 
unless  I  am  mistaken,  the  crown  of  the  oldest  kinof  is 
-resting  upon  the  parchment  of  Balaam's  prophecy,  in 
which  they  had  read  of  the  star  to  come  out  of  Jacob. 
In  a  painter  of  to-day  the  attempt  to  imitate  all  this 
quaintness  of  sentiment  would  be  as  false  and  unnat- 
ural as  the  effort  to  reproduce  the  Flemish  stiffness  of 
outline  and  rich  elaboration  of  ornament.  But  in  Roger 
it  was  all  sincere,  and  therefore  it  is  beautiful  in  its  own 
fashion.  The  clear,  calm  light  of  early  dawn  which 
illuminates  the  landscape  with  pensive  radiance,  and 
the  serene  awe  of  devotion  which  is  expressed  in  the 
faces  and  figures  of  the  Magi,  are  but  the  reflection 
of  the  old  painter's  tranquil  and  believing  spirit,  which 
the  magic  mirror  of  art  has  preserved  for  us  through 
three  centuries  of  turmoil  and  doubt. 

The  most  remarkable  and  interesting  of  all  pictures 
of  the  Magi  is  Benozzo  Gozzoli's  fresco  in  the  Riccardi 
Palace  at  Florence.  This  Benozzo,  if  history  speaks 
the  truth  of  him,  was  a  most  delicious  man,  correct  in 
his  conduct,  respected  and  beloved  by  his  neighbours 
for  his  amazing  industry  and  exemplary  piety,  and  at  the 
same  time  not  in  the  least  spoiled  or  priggish,  but  filled 
with  an  ever-new  passion  of  wonder  and  delight  towards 
all  the  creatures  of  God,  and  resolved  to  show  as  many 
of  them  as  possible  in  his  pictures.  His  great  oppor- 
tunity came  when  the  Medici,  the  Rothschilds  of  Flor- 
ence, sent  for  him,  in  1459,  to  decorate  the  walls  of  the 
family  chapel  in  their  new  palace.  The  room  is  only 
about  twenty-five  feet  square,  but  all  the  walls,  except 


IHE 

\I)OKATI0i 
>r  THE 
MAGI— 
ISOUGUERE, 


i;iichof 
\'iiiceu;; 
I'aul 


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c 


J 


THE   ADORATION    OF   THE    MAGI  137 

on  the  side  which  has  been  cut  away  in  modern  times 
to  make  room  for  a  window,  are  completely  covered 
with  the  most  gorgeous  colours  and  life-like  figures.  I 
know  of  no  room  in  the  world  which  makes  such  an 
overwhelming  impression  of  the  opulence  of  painting. 
The  subject  which  Benozzo  chose  was  the  Journey  of 
the  Kings  of  the  East,  and  he  has  crowded  the  whole 
chapel  with  it,  leaving  only  the  square  recess  where  the 
altar  once  stood  for  two  beautiful  rows  of  adoring  angels 
and  a  picture  of  the  Nativity,  which  has  now  disap- 
peared. It  is  an  idle  thing  to  say,  as  many  of  the 
guide-books  do,  that  the  frescos  were  painted  by  lamp- 
light  because  there  was  originally  no  window  in  the 
chapel.  Such  superb  colours  were  never  mixed  in  arti- 
ficial light.  The  little  room  is,  in  fact,  only  a  space  por- 
tioned off  within  a  lofty,  well-lighted  hall,  and  Gozzoli 
must  have  worked  there  before  the  ceiling  was  put  on. 
Then  his  pictures  were  closed  in,  like  jewels  in  a 
casket. 

He  has  represented  the  long  procession  of  the  Magi 
as  passing  through  a  valley,  into  which  they  come  wind- 
ing down  on  the  left,  and  out  of  which  they  go  winding 
up  on  the  right,  with  prancing  steeds  and  stately  war- 
riors, graceful  pages  and  wrinkled  councillors,  spearmen 
and  huntsmen,  sleek  greyhounds,  spotted  leopards,  and 
keen-eyed  hawks.  Meanwhile,  on  the  hills  around,  life 
goes  on  as  usual.  Hunters  follow  the  deer,  travellers 
pursue  their  journey  along  winding  roads  to  the  distant 
towns,  the  pines  stand  straight  and  solemn  upon  the 
rocks,  and  the  palms  lift  their  feathery  heads  against 
the  sky.     The  oldest  king  is  a  portrait  of  the  venerable 


138  THE   CHRIST- CHILD   IN    ART 

Patriarch  of  Constantinople,  with  his  long  snowy  beard 
and  red  robe,  riding  on  a  white  mule.  Behind  him,  as 
the  second  king,  comes  the  Greek  emperor,  John  Palse- 
ologus,  dark-faced  and  haughty,  in  his  rich  green  dress 
and  pointed  crown,  looking  just  as  he  did  when  he  came 
to  the  famous  council  at  Florence  in  1439,  at  which  the 
union  of  the  Greek  and  Latin  Churches  was  promised 
but  not  accomplished.  The  third  king  is  the  young 
Lorenzino  de  Medici,  then  a  boy  of  some  twelve  years. 
He  is  dressed  in  white,  embroidered  with  gold,  and 
wears  a  light  blue  turban  on  the  golden  curls  which 
cluster  round  his  cheeks  and  fall  upon  his  neck.  His 
proud  eyes  look  out  at  you  serenely,  as  with  hands 
crossed  over  his  gemmy  bridle  and  spurred  feet  daintily 
touching  his  stirrups,  he  bestrides  his  grand  white 
charger,  which  tosses  its  head  as  if  it  felt  the  joy  of 
carrying  the  flower  of  the  Medicean  house,  the  hope  and 
glory  of  Florence.  He  is  followed  by  a  throng  of  peo- 
ple, mounted  and  on  foot,  among  whom  are  Cosimo  de 
Medici,  the  aged  head  of  the  family,  and  his  son  Piero, 
and  the  painter  himself,  in  a  red  cap  with  the  inscription 
Opus  Benotii  on  the  brim. 

It  is  a  marvellous  opus  indeed,  and  one  which  gives 
us  great  admiration  for  Benozzo's  fertility  and  skill. 
But  what  has  all  this  Florentine  display  to  do  with  the 
story  of  the  Magi  ?  Little  enough,  to  be  sure,  if  we  take 
it  literally;  but  it  was  the  best  that  Benozzo  knew  of 
the  pomp  and  splendour  of  earth ;  and  if  the  innocent 
old  painter  could  only  have  brought  it  all  in  truth  to 
the  feet  of  the  infant  Christ,  Florence  might  have  had 
a  happier  history,  and  the  dream  of  the  Emperor  Palae- 


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THE   ADORATION   OF  THE   MAGI  141 

ologus  might  have  been  fulfilled  in  the  union  of  Eastern 
and  Western  Christendom. 

The  immense  Adoration  in  the  museum  at  Ant- 
werp is  one  of  the  most  triumphant  works  of  that  robus- 
tious pagan  and  superb  colourist,  Peter  Paul  Rubens. 
It  is  said  that  he  finished  the  picture  in  thirteen  days. 
It  was  a  tour  de  force,  yet  from  a  painter's  point  of  view 
there  is  little  to  be  altered.  The  figures  are  wrapped 
in  a  flood  of  warm  light,  brilliant  without  glare,  and 
filled  with  harmonious  tones.  Types  of  beauty  and  of 
ugliness  appear  side  by  side.  The  two  noble  princes 
in  the  foreground ;  the  burly  African  in  green  and  pea- 
cock blue,  with  his  thick  lips  and  rolling  eyes,  looking 
down  in  scornful  surprise  upon  the  babe  whom  he  must 
worship ;  the  grotesque  heads  of  the  camels ;  the  grin- 
ning Nubians  peering  beneath  the  cobwebbed  beams  of 
the  stable ;  the  joyous  child,  leaning  from  the  lap  of  his 
mother,  who  smiles  at  his  eagerness ;  the  curious  spec- 
tators ;  the  soldiers'  helmets ;  the  Corinthian  pillar  in 
the  background ;  the  head  of  the  ox,  dashed  into  the 
foreground  with  a  few  swift,  sure  strokes  of  the  brush 
— what  a  vigorous  tableau  is  this!  How  rich,  how  dra- 
matic, how  frankly  heathen ! 

The  picture  by  Bouguereau  in  the  Lady  Chapel  of 
the  Church  of  St.  Vincent  de  Paul,  at  Paris,  is  likewise 
one  of  the  best  that  its  author  has  painted.  But  here 
we  have  passed  from  the  religious  atmosphere  of  Ant- 
werp in  the  seventeenth  century  to  that  of  Paris  in  the 
nineteenth.  The  artist  is  learned ;  he  respects  the  tra- 
ditions; he  is  devout;  he  will  not  lose  the  doctrinal 
meaning  of  the  scene.     Yet  he  is,  above  all,  a  beauty 


142 


THE   CHRIST- CHILD   IN    ART 


worshipper.  He  must  have  graceful  outlines,  smooth 
surfaces,  refined  colours.  The  Virgin  is  seated  in  front 
of  a  marble  house,  under  an  awning.  Her  blue  robe 
covers  her  dress  completely ;  only  a  touch  of  red  shows 
at  her  wrist.  She  seems  weary  and  oppressed.  In  the 
background  the  white  houses  of  the  Syrian  town  lie 
quivering  in  the  heat.  The  child  Jesus  seems  to  be 
nearly  a  year  old.  He  sits  on  Mary's  lap,  leaning  back, 
with  his  right  hand  raised  in  benediction.  It  is  the 
attitude  of  a  young  prince.  The  three  kings,  two  of 
whom  are  dark,  middle-aged  men,  while  the  third  is  old 
and  gray,  kneel  before  the  Child,  and  one  of  them  swings 
a  censer.  They  are  dressed  in  long  robes  of  dull  yel- 
low, with  diadems  and  large  halos.  Their  attendants 
carry  gifts  and  fans  of  peacock's  plumes,  St.  Joseph, 
a  dignified  and  protecting  figure,  stands  beside  the  Vir- 
gin,  with  one  hand  on  the  back  of  her  chair  and  the 
other  laid  on  his  breast.  It  is  all  very  carefully  com- 
posed, solemn  and  stately.  The  impression  which  it 
makes  is  one  of  elegance.  But,  after  all,  the  picture 
misses  something.  It  is  not  deep  enough.  Its  colour 
lacks  warmth,  and  its  figures  lack  life.  Its  beauty  is 
elaborate  and  unreal.  It  says  too  much  and  too 
little ;  for  a  great  painting  must  be  at  once  frank 
and  reserved.  It  must  express  its  meaning,  and 
yet  have  a  mystery  in  it,  something  below  the  sur- 
face, which  leads  the  mind  on  into  the  secret  of 
visions. 

When  we  come  to  La  Farge's  double  picture  in  the 
chancel  of  the  Church  of  the  Incarnation,  at  New  York, 
we  find  these  conditions  met,  and  may  justly  say  that 


H 

1 

■"''';.^ 

^HlHi 

.     .;:-:.^T^ 

^^HHbI 

-s^^^H 

^s 

jhI 

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aSTOH,  LENOX  AND 

tilden  foundations. 
C 


THE   ADORATION    OF   THE   MAGI 


H5 


this  latest  work  of  art  upon  the  familiar  theme  is  also 
one  of  the  noblest.  In  drawing,  the  picture  is  not 
faultless;  there  is  a  touch  of  insecurity  in  some  of  the 
figures.  In  colour  it  is  a  victorious  experiment  "  in 
the  key  of  blue."  The  painter  has  abandoned  the  tra- 
ditions. He  shows  us  four  pilgrims,  not  kings,  but 
Magians  of  the  East.  One  of  them  has  dismounted, 
and  kneels,  uncovered,  with  out-stretched,  trembling 
hands,  a  sincere  and  eloquent  figure.  The  others,  seat- 
ed high  upon  their  wearied  horses,  are  still  in  the  back- 
ground. A  shining  angel,  white  as  snow,  points  to  the 
couch  where  Mary  is  lying  with  her  babe. 

How  significant  the  action  with  which  she  lifts  the 
veil  from  "the  Light  of  the  World!"  How  sublime  the 
meaning  of  the  scene !  For  now  the  sweet  pastoral 
seclusion  of  the  Nativity,  with  its  angelic  songs  and 
wondering  shepherds,  is  broken  by  the  contact  of  the 
great  world.  The  vast  stream  of  history,  flowing  down 
from  the  cradle  of  nations  in  the  Orient,  sweeps  suddenly 
towards  the  cradle  of  Jesus.  The  past,  with  all  its  ven- 
erable  traditions,  the  scattered  races  of  mankind,  the 
philosophy  of  the  ages,  the  honour  and  power  and  wealth 
of  earthly  kingdoms,  come  thronging  dimly  in  the  train 
of  these  mysterious  visitors  to  do  homage  to  an  infant 
on  his  mother's  breast. 

And  when  our  world  learns  this  lesson ;  when  pride 
bows  down  to  meekness,  and  experience  does  homage 
to  innocence;  when  every  child  is  reverenced  as  a  royal 
heir  of  heaven  because  it  is  a  brother  of  the  Christ-child 
— then  the  Epiphany  will  come,  and  a  great  light  will 
lighten  the  nations. 


THE    FLIGHT   INTO    EGYPT 


Thou  wayfaring  Jesus,  a  pilgrim  aitd  stranger, 

Exiled  from  heaven  by  love  at  thy  birth, 
Exiled  again  from  thy  rest  in  the  manger, 

A  fugitive  child  'mid  the  perils  of  earth — 
Cheer  with  thy  fellowship  all  who  are  weary, 

Wandering  far  from  the  land  that  they  love ; 
Guide  every  heart  that  is  homeless  and  dreary 

Safe  to  its  home  in  thy  presence  above. 


3[n5  fofftn  t))t^  toerc  JeparteU,  ht'i^olti,  tift  anjcl  of  t^t 
lorU  appearetl)  to  Sfoecpl)  in  a  Jream,  saping:,  trifle,  anU 
tafee  tj)c  pottitff  cljtiii  anil  (jis  motl)tr,  anti  flee  into  ©ffppt,  anlJ 
i)e  tdou  t!)ere  until  ^  ftrinff  t[)ee  tDorB :  for  |)eroB  toill  secfe 
tfft  pounff  rttlli  to  lestrop  l^im. 

€i5R()en  l^e  arose,  l^e  toofe  t()e  pounff  cfjillj  anJ  f)ig  motjjer 
6p  niffbt,  anH  Uepartcti  into  ©ffppt: 

ana  mag  tl^ere  until  t^e  Jeat!)  of  |)eroS :  tl&at  it  mijljt  be 
fulfiUeli  n)()icf)  toae  spolien  of  tl)e  lorli  bp  tlie  propl^et,  eap^ 
inff,  ©ut  of  ©ffppt  i)abe  ^  caUeU  mp  con. 

C()en  l^erolJ,  tol^cn  ()e  cato  tf)at  I)c  teas  moclieli  of  t|)e  toise 
men,  toad  ercecUinff  torotd,  anii  gent  fort[),  anU  gleto  all  tl)e 
cl)ilJren  tl)at  toere  in  ^et^jle^em,  anU  in  all  tfje  coastB  ti)ereof, 
from  ttDo  pears  olJ  anlJ  unJer,  accorJinff  to  tjje  time  tofjicir 
i)e  !)ai  lJilig;entlp  inquired  of  t()e  toise  men. 

Ci)en  teas  fullilleli  t|)at  tD!)icl^  toae  epoiken  i^  ^txtm^  t^t 
propbet,  sapinff, 

3rn  fiamaj)  toag  t()ere  a  Poice  {)carli,  lamentation,  anU  toeep-- 
inff,  anlD  ffreat  mourning,  Hacj)el  toeepinff  for  (jer  tjiiUren, 
anJ  tonullJ  not  be  comfortelr,  because  tj^ep  are  not. 

^ttt  tDf)cn  |)eroU  teas  JealJ,  befjoIB,  an  anjel  of  ll^e  lorJ 
appearetl)  in  a  Bream  to  3rosep()  in  ©ffppt, 

giapinff,  arise,  anU  tafee  tl)e  pounff  e()ilti  anU  J)is  mot^tx, 
ani  ffo  into  tbe  lanlr  of  S^srael:  for  tl^ep  are  beaB  to^iej 
BOUgllt  t|)e  pounff  ciiili's  life.— St.  Matthew,  ii.  13-20. 


I 


lANY  great  travellers  have  visited  Egypt,  and 
many  famous  fugitives  have  found  asylum 
there ;  but  none  so  great  or  so  famous  as 
the  little  Child  who  was  carried  thither  by  his  parents 
in  the  days  of  Herod  the  king.  The  story  of  their 
journey  is  told  by  the  Evangelist  Matthew,  who  says 
that  after  the  visit  of  the  Magi,  Joseph  had  a  dream 
in  which  he  saw  an  angel  warning  him  to  save  the 
child  Jesus  from  the  envious  wrath  of  Herod  by  flee- 
ing into  Egypt,  and  that  he  acted  upon  the  warning 
promptly,  going  away  from  Bethlehem  by  night,  and 
remaining  in  Egypt  until  Herod  was  dead. 

Nothing  could  be  more  likely  than  that  Joseph 
should  have  such  a  dream  after  the  Magi  had  de- 
parted; for  he  knew,  as  all  the  inhabitants  of  Judea 
had  reason  to  know,  the  black,  jealous,  bloody  tem- 
per of  King  Herod,  and  how  quick  and  cruel  he  was 
to  put  any  fancied  rival  out  of  the  way.  His  own 
children  and  his  favourite  wife  Mariamne  were  butch- 
ered by  his  command  because  he  was  afraid  of  them ; 
and  such  an  incident  as  the  homage  of  the  Wise  Men 
to  the  child  Jesus,  coming  to  his  ears,  would  certainly 
have  aroused  his  malignant  fear.  It  was  natural  that 
Joseph's  sleep  should  be  troubled  with  some  dark  pre- 


ISO 


THE    CHRIST- CHILD   IN    ART 


sentiment  of  the  slaughter  of  the  innocents  at  Bethle- 
hem, and  that  he  should  be  ready  to  heed  the  angel's 
exhortation  to  speedy  flight.  Everything  was  in  favour 
of  Egypt  as  the  place  of  refuge.  It  was  far  beyond 
the  reach  of  Herod's  treacherous  hand,  and  yet  it  was 
near  enough  to  be  easily  gained.  Three  days  would 
be  sufficient  to  bring  the  travellers  to  the  boundary 
between  Egypt  and  Palestine,  and  once  across  it  they 
would  be  safe.  The  gifts  of  the  Magi  had  provided 
them  with  money  for  the  journey.  In  Egypt  they 
would  find  many  colonies  of  Jews,  among  whom  they 
would  be  kindly  received  and  securely  hidden.  So 
they  set  out  on  their  pilgrimage,  this  faithful  Joseph 
and  the  mother  Mary,  with  their  sacred  Child ;  with 
what  company,  if  any,  and  in  what  manner  of  journey- 
ing, we  know  not,  save  that  their  departure  was  under 
the  friendly  cover  of  darkness ;  they  passed  safely 
through  the  mountains  of  Judea,  and  across  the  Phil- 
istine plain,  and  reached  the  friendly  shelter  of  the 
land  of  the  Sphinx,  while  Herod's  fury  of  jealousy 
spent  itself  in  vain  upon  the  children  of  Bethlehem. 
And  when  the  murderous  king  was  dead,  they  re- 
turned from  exile  to  their  own  country.  That  is  the 
brief  and  simple  history  of  the  Flight. 

But  the  poetry  of  it  —  how  deep,  how  wonderful, 
how  suggestive !  Let  any  one  who  believes  that  Jesus 
was  the  Christ  reflect  upon  the  significance  of  this 
story — the  strange  contrast  between  the  serene,  mu- 
sical night  of  the  Nativity,  and  this  troubled,  threaten- 
ing night  of  the  journey;  the  adoration  which  was 
brought  to  the  Child  from  far  lands,  and   the  perse- 


THE    FLIGHT    INTO    EGYPT — GIOTTO 
From  a  fresco  in  the  Chapel  of  the  Arena,  Padua 


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TILDEN  FOUNDATIONS. 

C  L. 


THE   FLIGHT   INTO   EGYPT  153 

cution  which  followed  him  in  his  own  country;  the 
king  of  Heaven  fleeing  from  the  king  of  Judea;  the 
utter  helpless  dependence  of  the  little  babe  upon  his 
parents  during  the  long  and  weary  journey;  the  mys~ 
tery  of  his  secret  sojourn  among  the  venerable  tem- 
ples and  pyramids  and  dusty  idolatries  of  old  Egypt 
— surely  the  picture  of  the  Holy  Child  would  not  be 
perfect  without  this  weird  shadow  of  peril  and  this 
experience  of  the  hard  vicissitudes  of  mortal  life. 


II 


It  was  not  possible,  however,  for  the  active  imagina- 
tion of  the  early  Christians  to  rest  content  with  St. 
Matthew's  short  and  plain  record  of  the  Flight.  They 
must  know  more  about  it  —  how  the  pilgrimage  was 
made,  through  what  places  the  Holy  Family  passed, 
what  marvels  and  portents  happened  by  the  way,  and 
where  they  found  a  resting-place.  And  so  the  litera- 
ture of  the  Flight  unfolded  itself  in  the  apocryphal 
gospels,  and  continued  its  growth  through  the  poems 
and  chronicles  of  the  Middle  Ages.  Nothing  can  be 
more  clear  than  the  difference  between  the  simple 
statement  of  St.  Matthew  that  the  journey  was  made 
— a  statement  which  bears  every  mark  of  being  his- 
torical, and  reads  as  if  it  were  merely  a  transcript  of 
the  Virgin  Mary's  remembrance  of  that  hurried  and 
dream-like  episode  —  and  the  wild,  fantastic  fables  of 
later  times.     And  yet  these  fanciful  stories,  which  were 


154  THE  CHRIST- CHILD    IN   ART 

told  SO  often  at  the  fireside,  in  the  tent,  at  the  rest- 
ing-place of  the  reapers,  and  by  the  camp-fires  of  the 
caravan,  have  had  considerable  influence  upon  art. 

Here  is  one,  for  example,  from  the  History  of  the 
Nativity  of  Mary. 

"  And  having  come  to  a  certain  cave  and  wishing 
to  rest  in  it,  the  blessed  Mary  dismounted  from  her 
beast,  and  sat  down  with  the  child  Jesus  in  her 
bosom.  And  there  were  with  Joseph  three  boys  and 
with  Mary  a  girl,  going  on  the  journey  along  with 
them.  And  lo !  suddenly  there  came  forth  from  the 
cave  many  dragons,  and  when  the  children  saw  them 
they  cried  out  in  great  affright.  Then  Jesus  went 
down  from  the  bosom  of  his  mother,  and  stood  on  his 
feet  before  the  dragons;  and  they  adored  Jesus,  and 
thereafter  retired.  But  Mary  and  Joseph  were  very 
much  afraid  lest  the  child  should  be  hurt  by  the  drag- 
ons. And  Jesus  said  to  them :  Do  not  be  afraid,  and 
do  not  consider  me  as  a  little  child;  for  I  am  and 
always  have  been  perfect,  and  all  the  beasts  of  the  field 
must  needs  be  tame  before  me."  I  do  not  know  that 
any  of  the  painters  have  ventured  upon  a  representa- 
tion of  the  dragons,  but  many  of  them,  beginning  with 
Giotto,  have  given  us  the  three  boys  and  the  girl  who 
had  such  a  dreadful  fright. 

Another  anecdote  told  by  the  same  author  has  al- 
ways been  a  favourite  with  the  poets  and  painters. 
The  Holy  Family  are  resting  beneath  a  date-palm, 
and  Mary  longs  for  some  of  the  tempting  fruit, 
which  hangs  high  above  her  head.  Joseph  declares 
that   he   is   too   tired    to   climb   the   smooth   stem    of 


FRESCO  —  NOTRE   DAME  /-/»:iy 

D'ABONDANCE  —  THE 
FLIGHT  INTO  EGYPT 


the  tree.  But  the  child  Jesus  knows  his  mother's 
wish,  and  at  his  command  the  branches  bend  down- 
ward to  her  hand.  Then  he  thrusts  his  finger  into 
the  sand  at  the  root  of  the  tree,  and  a  spring  of 
water  bursts  forth.  The  next  morning  Jesus  thanks 
the  tree,  saying,  "  This  privilege  I  give  thee,  O  palm- 
tree,  that  one  of  thy  branches  be  carried  away  by  my 
angels  and  planted  in  the  Paradise  of  my  Father.  And 
this  blessing  will  I  confer  upon  thee,  that  it  shall  be 
said  of  all  who  conquer  in  any  contest.  You  have  won 
the  palm  of  victory.'*  Accordingly  we  may  see  in 
Correggio's  "  Madonna  della  Scodella,"  at  Parma,  the 
obedient  tree  and  the  spring,  from  which  the  Virgin 


156  THE   CHRIST- CHILD    IN    ART 

is  dipping  a  bowl  of  water,  while  four  charming  angels 
are  flying  up  to  heaven  with  the  palm  branch. 

There  is  another  story  which  touches  more  upon 
the  danger  of  the  Flight.  As  the  fugitives  were  de- 
parting from  Bethlehem  they  passed  some  men  in  a 
field  sowing  corn.  And  the  Virgin  begged  them  to 
answer,  if  any  one  inquired  when  the  Son  of  Man 
passed  by,  "When  we  were  sowing  this  corn."  Now 
it  came  to  pass  that  same  night  that  the  corn  sprang 
up  and  ripened  so  that  on  the  morrow  they  were  reap- 
ing it.  And  when  the  soldiers  of  Herod  came  and 
asked  when  the  Son  of  Man  passed  by,  the  husband- 
men answered,  "As  we  were  sowing  this  corn."  So 
the  soldiers  thought  that  they  could  never  overtake 
Him,  and  turned  back  from  following.  In  a  picture  by 
Hans  Memlinc  in  the  Pinakothek  at  Munich  these 
truthful  and  deceptive  husbandmen  appear  in  the  back- 
ground. There  is  a  quaint  addition  to  this  legend, 
current  among  the  northern  Highlands  of  Scotland. 
It  is  said  that  a  malicious  little  black  beetle  over- 
heard the  soldiers'  question,  and  thrusting  up  his  head, 
answered,  "  The  Son  of  Man  passed  here  last  night." 
And  this  is  the  reason  why  the  Highlanders  stamp 
on  the  black  beetle  when  they  see  it,  saying,  "  Beetle, 
beetle,  last  night !" 

The  same  thought  of  the  danger  of  the  journey 
has  given  rise  to  the  various  anecdotes  of  encounters 
with  robbers.  Sometimes  it  is  a  band  of  brio^ands 
lying  in  ambush;  and  as  the  Child  draws  near,  they 
hear  a  great  noise  like  the  sound  of  a  king  approach- 
ing with  horses   and   chariots,  so  that  a  panic  seizes 


THK   REPOSE   IX   EGYPT  —  From  a  painting  by  Albrecht  Altdorfer 


THE  NEW  YORK 

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TILD£N  FOUNDATIONS. 

C  I- 


THE    FLIGHT    INTO    EGYPT  159 

them,  and  they  run  away  without  doing  the  harmless 
travellers   any  injury.      Again,   the    Holy   Family   are 
taken  prisoners  by  the  captain  of  a  company  of  brig- 
ands; but  instead  of  cruelty  he  shows  them  kindness, 
carrying  them  to  his  own  house,  and  entertaining  them 
with  the  best  of  fare  in  his  garden  of  fruit-trees.     His 
good-wife  helps  to  give  the  little  Child   a  bath,  and 
prudently  saves  the  water.     Some  days  later,  when  the 
hospitable  brigand  comes  home  from  a  skirmish  fatally 
wounded,  the  same  wonderful  water  heals  him  and  re- 
stores him  to  life.     At  another  time  the  travellers  are 
stealing  quietly  past  a  band  of  robbers  who  have  fallen 
asleep.     But   two   of  them,  Titus  and   Dumachus,  are 
roused  by  the  noise.     Dumachus  wishes  to  awaken  his 
comrades  and  capture   the  pilgrims ;   but  Titus   being 
of  an  amiable  disposition,  though  a  robber,  bribes  his 
companion  with  forty  pieces  of  money  and  a  girdle  to 
keep  still  and  let  them  escape,  for  which  Mary  blesses 
him,  and  Jesus  foretells  that  after  thirty  years  the  two 
robbers  shall  be  crucified  with  him,  and  Titus  shall  en- 
ter  into   Paradise   as   the    penitent   thief.     These   are 
very  primitive  stories,  but  they  appear  to  indicate   at 
least  that  the  early  Christians  recognized  a  difference 
among  thieves,  and  were  willing  to  believe  in  the  possi- 
bility of  goodness  dormant  under  the  crust  of  evil. 

There  is  another  class  of  legends  which  centre  in 
the  idea  of  the  divinity  of  Jesus.  The  Egyptian  idols 
are  represented  as  tumbling  from  their  pedestals  at  his 
approach.  A  whole  city  of  idols,  whatever  that  may 
mean,  is  changed  into  a  sand-hill  as  he  passes  by. 
And  one  very  large  and  powerful  idol,  to  which  all  the 


i6o  THE    CHRIST- CHILD   IN    ART 

others  were  accustomed  to  pay  homage,  cries  out  that 
Jesus  is  a  greater  God  than  any  of  them,  and  forthwith 
falls  into  a  thousand  fragments.  All  this  is  but  a 
childish  way  of  saying  that  the  religion  of  Jesus  de- 
stroys idolatry. 

But  the  greatest  fund  of  marvellous  stories  about  the 
Flight  is  found  in  the  Arabic  Gospel  of  the  Infancy, 
which  was  current  among  the  Christians  of  the  East, 
and  was  probably  used  by  Mohammed  in  the  compo- 
sition of  the  Koran.  It  is  an  Oriental  variation  upon 
a  sacred  theme,  an  Asiatic  embroidery  full  of  all  kinds 
of  strange  beasts,  a  sanctified  Arabian  Nights'  Enter- 
tainment. It  tells  of  a  dumb  bride  restored  to  speech 
by  taking  the  infant  Jesus  in  her  arms ;  and  a  crazy 
woman  who  would  not  wear  any  clothes  brought  to  her 
right  mind  by  the  compassionate  look  of  the  Lady 
Mary ;  and  a  girl  with  the  leprosy  cleansed  by  washing 
in  the  water  in  which  the  Child  had  been  bathed ;  and 
sundry  other  household  miracles  even  more  ingenuous 
and  astonishing.  It  describes  the  dwelling-place  of 
the  Holy  Family  at  Matarea,  a  town  a  little  to  the 
northeast  of  Cairo,  where  any  sceptical  person  may 
still  see  the  aged  sycamore  which  sheltered  them,  and 
the  "fountain  of  Mary,"  in  which  she  washed  her 
Child's  coat.  But  the  most  wonderful  tale  of  all  is 
the  story  of  the  enchanted  mule,  which  runs  on  this 
wise : 

As  the  Holy  Family  were  entering  into  a  certain 
city  they  saw  three  women  coming  out  of  a  cemetery, 
and  weeping.  And  when  the  Lady  Mary  saw  them, 
she  said  to  the  girl  who  accompanied   her  (the  same 


^15v  "1"^'    "^^^^^  '"^/^A  --.. 


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'IHE    REPOSE 
From  an  engraving  by  Lucas  Cranach 


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THE   FLIGHT   INTO    EGYPT  163 

who  had  been  cleansed  of  her  leprosy) :  "  Ask  them 
what  is  the  matter,  and  what  calamity  has  befallen 
them."  But  they  made  no  reply  to  the  girl's  ques- 
tions, asking  her  in  their  turn :  "  Whence  are  you  ? 
and  whither  are  you  going?  For  the  day  is  spent, 
and  night  is  coming  on  apace."  "  We  are  travellers," 
said  the  girl,  "and  are  seeking  a  house  of  entertain- 
ment." They  said :  "  Go  with  us,  and  spend  the  night 
with  us."  Accordingly  the  travellers  accepted  the 
courteous  invitation,  and  were  brought  into  a  new 
house,  richly  furnished.  Now  it  was  winter,  and  the 
girl  going  into  the  apartment  of  these  women,  found 
them  again  weeping  and  lamenting.  Beside  them 
stood  a  mule,  covered  with  housings  of  cloth  of  gold, 
and  sesame  was  put  before  him,  and  the  women  were 
kissing  him  and  feeding  him.  And  the  girl  said : 
"  What  is  all  this  ado,  my  ladies,  about  this  mule  ?" 
They  replied  with  tears :  "  This  mule,  which  thou 
seest,  was  our  brother,  born  of  the  same  mother  with 
ourselves.  When  our  father  died  he  left  us  great 
wealth,  and  this  only  brother.  We  did  our  best  to 
get  him  married,  and  were  preparing  his  nuptials  after 
the  fashion  of  our  country.  But  some  women,  moved 
by  jealousy,  bewitched  him,  unknown  to  us;  and  one 
night,  a  little  before  daybreak,  when  the  door  of  our 
house  was  shut,  we  saw  that  this  our  brother  had  been 
turned  into  a  mule,  as  thou  now  beholdest  him.  And 
we  are  sorrowful,  as  thou  seest,  having  no  father  to 
comfort  us ;  and  there  is  no  wise  man  or  magician  in 
the  world  that  we  have  omitted  to  send  for,  but  noth- 
ing has  done  us  any  good."     And  when  the  girl  heard 


i64  THE   CHRIST- CHILD   IN    ART 

this,  she  said :  "  Be  of  good  courage,  ladies,  and  weep 
no  more ;  for  the  cure  of  your  calamity  is  near ;  yes,  it 
is  presently  in  your  own  house.  For  I  also  was  a 
leper.  But  when  I  saw  that  woman,  and  along  with 
her  that  young  Child,  whose  name  is  Jesus,  I  sprinkled 
my  body  with  the  water  wherein  his  mother  had 
washed  him,  and  I  was  cured.  I  know  that  he  can 
deliver  you  from  your  affliction  also.  But  arise,  go  to 
Mary  my  mistress,  bring  her  into  your  own  apartment, 
tell  her  your  secret,  and  supplicate  her  to  have  pity 
upon  you."  When  the  women  had  listened  to  the 
girl's  words  they  hastened  to  the  Lady  Mary  and 
brought  her  into  their  chamber,  and  sat  down  before 
her,  weeping  and  saying :  "  O  our  mistress.  Lady 
Mary,  have  pity  upon  thy  servants,  for  no  one  older 
than  ourselves,  no  head  of  our  family,  is  left— neither 
father  nor  brother — to  live  with  us;  but  this  mule 
which  thou  seest  was  our  brother,  whom  women  have 
bewitched  into  this  condition.  We  beseech  thee,  there- 
fore, to  have  pity  upon  us."  Then,  grieving  at  their 
misfortune,  the  Lady  Mary  took  up  the  Lord  Jesus 
and  put  him  on  the  mule's  back,  and  she  wept  with 
the  women,  and  said  to  Jesus  Christ,  "  Alas,  my  son, 
heal  this  mule  by  thy  mighty  power,  and  make  him  a 
reasonable  man  as  he  was  before."  And  when  these 
words  were  spoken,  the  shape  of  the  mule  was  changed, 
and  he  became  a  young  man  of  engaging  appearance. 
Whereupon  there  was  great  joy  in  the  household,  and 
the  grateful  sisters  immediately  concluded  to  marry 
their  brother  to  the  girl  who  had  been  the  means  of 
bringing  him  so  great  a  benefit. 


THE    HOME    IX    EGYPT  —  ALBRECHT    DURER 
From  an  engraving  in  "The  Life  of  tlie  Virgin" 


THE  NEW  YOPK] 

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L^ y 


THE   FLIGHT   INTO   EGYPT  167 

All  this,  especially  the  happy  marriage,  is  quite  in 
the  style  of  Scheherezade.  It  is  no  more  like  the 
sober  records  of  the  evangelists  than  a  display  of  fire- 
works is  like  the  silent  stars ;  and  the  very  difference 
goes  far  to  prove,  or  at  least  to  illustrate,  the  histori- 
cal character  of  our  four  gospels. 


Ill 


The  pictorial  representations  of  this  subject  divide 
themselves  into  two  classes.  First  we  have  the  pictures 
of  the  Flight  itself.  These  may  be  easily  recognized 
by  the  presence  of  Joseph  and  Mary,  evidently  going 
on  a  journey,  with  their  Child,  not  yet  two  years  old. 
If  Jesus  is  older,  and  able  to  walk  by  the  side  of 
Joseph,  the  picture  represents  the  Return.  Sometimes 
the  painter  puts  a  sketch  of  the  massacre  of  the  inno- 
cents into  the  background,  to  remind  us  of  the  occa- 
sion of  the  Flight.  Thus  it  appears  in  Peruzzi's  fresco 
in  the  Church  of  San  Onofrio  at  Rome.  Sometimes 
he  makes  an  angel  showing  the  way,  as  in  a  paint- 
ing of  the  school  of  Domenichino  at  Naples.  Now  the 
Holy  Family  are  seen  going  through  a  gloomy  forest, 
as  in  a  black  little  etching  by  Rembrandt,  where  one 
can  hardly  distinguish  anything  except  the  lantern 
which  Joseph  carries  in  his  hand.  Now  they  are  em- 
barking in  a  boat,  as  in  a  painting  by  Poussin  ;  and 
again  they  are  floating  on  the  sea,  fanned  along  by 
angels,  as  in  a  very  feeble  and   affected  picture  by  a 


1 68  THE    CHRIST- CHILD   IN   ART 

Frenchman  whose  name  I  have  forgotten  (and  it  is  of 
no  consequence).  Usually  Joseph  is  leading  the  ass, 
while  Mary  rides  upon  it,  with  the  child  in  her  arms. 
But  sometimes  the  situation  is  reversed.  There  is 
a  finely  finished  little  picture  by  Adrian  van  der  Werff 
in  the  Louvre,  which  shows  Mary  walking  ahead  car- 
rying the  child ;  she  is  about  to  cross  a  stream  on 
stepping-stones,  and  turns  to  give  her  hand  to  Joseph, 
who  is  very  old,  and  seems  almost  afraid  to  follow,  while 
the  ass,  coming  last  of  all,  pulls  back  vigorously.  In 
the  same  gallery  I  remember  having  seen  a  charming 
landscape  by  Adam  Elzheimer,  in  which  the  Holy 
Family  appear  to  have  crossed  a  broad,  shallow  stream 
sparkling  in  the  moonlight.  Joseph  carries  a  torch  in 
one  hand,  and  with  the  other  he  is  giving  a  little 
branch  to  the  child  for  a  whip.  On  the  edge  of  the 
woods  in  the  background  some  shepherds  have  kindled 
a  blazing  fire,  and  there  the  travellers  evidently  intend 
to  seek  their  rest.  The  picture  is  thus  illuminated 
with  three  kinds  of  light,  yet  it  is  perfectly  harmonious, 
and  suggests  very  picturesquely  the  "  camping  out " 
aspect  of  the  Flight. 

The  second  class  of  pictures  represent  the  Repose, 
either  at  some  halting -place  by  the  way,  or  in  the 
home  at  Matarea.  The  subject  came  into  vogue  at  the 
end  of  the  fifteenth  century.  But  by  the  middle  of  the 
sixteenth  century  this  theme  had  become  even  more 
popular  than  the  Flight ;  it  was  painted  by  Titian  and 
Paul  Veronese  and  Correggio,  by  Murillo  at  least  five 
times,  by  Rubens  and  Van  Dyck  and  Rembrandt  and 
Ferdinand  Bol,  by  Claude  Lorraine  and  Nicolas  Pous- 


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THE    FLIGHT    INTO    EGYPT  171 

sin,  by  Overbeck  and  Decamps,  and  among  the  latest 
representations  of  it  is  the  picture  by  Knaus  in  the 
Metropohtan  Museum  at  New  York — a  painting  which 
is  far  from  lofty  in  its  tone,  but  which  fascinates  the 
public  with  its  throng  of  plump  and  merry  little  angels. 
It  is  not  always  easy  to  recognize  this  subject;  some- 
times a  painter  like  Claude  gives  us-  simply  a  broad 
landscape  with  a  few  tiny  figures  in  one  corner,  and 
calls  it  a  Repose;  or  again,  as  in  the  sad  but  lovely 
picture  by  Decamps,  we  see  only  a  group  of  tired  peo- 
ple with  a  little  child,  resting  under  the  shadow  of  some 
trees,  in  dark  silhouette  against  the  evening  sky.  But 
as  a  rule  the  Repose  is  marked  by  at  least  one  feature 
taken  from  the  old  legends  —  the  fountain,  the  palm- 
tree,  a  company  of  angels  singing  and  dancing  to 
amuse  the  Holy  Child.  The  painter  tries  to  make  his 
picture  tell  the  story  of  rest  after  a  weary  journey.  And 
always,  if  he  knows  anything  about  his  subject,  he  leaves 
out  the  familiar  figures  which  appear  in  other  representa- 
tions of  the  Holy  Family.  Wherever  you  find  St.  Anna, 
or  St.  Elizabeth,  or  the  little  St.  John,  you  may  know 
that  the  picture  is  not,  properly  speaking,  a  Riposo. 

And  now  we  may  turn  for  a  moment  to  look  more 
closely  at  our  illustrations  of  this  episode  in  the  life  of 
the  child  Jesus.  There  are  nine  of  them  —  five  repre- 
sent the  Flight,  and  four  the  Repose.  Two  of  them, 
at  least,  take  a  high  rank  among  the  pictures  belong- 
ing to  the  child  life  of  Jesus;  and  altogether  they 
cover  the  history  of  Christian  art  for  more  than  five 
centuries,  and  show  the  different  methods  of  fresco,  oil- 
painting,  and  engraving. 


173  THE    CHRIST-CHILD  IN   ART 

First  comes  Giotto ;  and  rightly,  for  he  was  the  first 
man  who  ventured  to  paint  the  Hfe  of  Christ  as  a  real- 
ity. This  fresco  is  one  of  those  that  make  the  walls  of 
the  little  Chapel  of  the  Arena  in  Padua  more  precious 
than  if  they  were  covered  with  gold.  It  has  suffered 
even  more  than  its  companions  from  the  damp  air  of 
the  surrounding  garden ;  and  much  of  that  bright,  pure 
colour  which  Giotto  loved  has  vanished  from  its  sur- 
face. But  even  in  its  decay  it  is  admirable;  it  shows 
us  how  clearly  the  oldest  of  old  masters  caught  the 
meaning  of  the  history,  and  with  what  vigour  and  sin- 
cerity he  was  able  to  express  it.  We  may  laugh,  if  we 
will,  at  the  impossible  trees,  and  the  wooden  head  of 
the  ass,  and  the  stiff,  unjointed  hands  of  the  people. 
These  were  things  which  Giotto  did  not  understand 
very  well,  nor  did  he  care  much  about  them.  But  he 
did  understand  how  to  tell  us  that  the  journey  was 
anxious  and  hurried,  and  altogether  a  very  serious 
undertaking;  that  even  the  dumb  beast  was  dejected 
and  weary ;  that  the  boys  and  the  girl  who  went  along 
with  the  Holy  Family  talked  a  good  deal  by  the  way ; 
and  that  Joseph  chose  the  boy  who  could  see  the  angel 
to  lead  the  ass  by  the  bridle ;  and  that  he  himself  could 
not  help  looking  back  continually  to  see  if  the  mother 
and  Child  were  safe;  and  that  these  two,  Mary  and 
Jesus,  being  together,  were  less  troubled  than  the  rest 
of  the  party — all  this  Giotto  tells  us  in  his  plain,  strong 
way.  He  has  grasped  the  situation.  He  gives  the 
drama  of  the  Flight. 

The  next  picture  comes  from  a  little  ruined  church, 
which  is  hidden  away  in  the  Alpine  hamlet  of  Abon- 


IWilif 


[the  new  ywfh 

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c 


THE    FLIGHT    INTO    EGYPT 


175 


dance,  among  the  mountains  of  Chablais,  on  the  south- 
ern shore  of  Lake  Geneva.  The  traveller  who  climbs 
up  the  valley  of  the  Dranse  from  Evian  to  this  for- 
saken spot  will  find  the  old  abbey  used  as  a  stable, 
and  these  pale  frescos  crumbling  from  the  walls.  No 
one  knows  who  painted  them.  Probably  it  was  done 
in  the  fifteenth  century  by  some  travelling  artist  who 
went  from  place  to  place  with  his  band  of  workmen  to 
execute  the  orders  of  the  monks.  This  was  certainly 
the  custom  of  the  time,  and  the  picture  bears  strong 
marks  of  Italian  influence  in  the  conventional  treat- 
ment of  Joseph's  dream  on  the  left,  and  the  actual 
Flight  on  the  right.  But  the  interesting  thing  about 
it  is  its  rude  but  graphic  reproduction  of  the  scenery 
of  upper  Savoy.  These  are  tlie.sharp-pointed  hills  and 
steep  crags  which  rise  around  the  village  of  Abon- 
dance ;  this  peasant  who  is  carrying  a  board  covered 
with  little  round  cheeses  up  a  mountain  path  is  a  na- 
tive of  the  district,  and  may  still  be  seen  there;  this 
boat  which  two  men  are  towing  against  the  stream 
belongs  to  the  river  Dranse.  It  is  still  the  drama  of 
the  Flight,  but  the  colouring  is  distinctly  local,  and 
the  artist  has  made  the  action  subordinate  to  the 
scenery.  And  3^et  I  think,  upon  the  whole,  the  old 
master-designer  gave  the  monks  the  worth  of  their 
money,  even  though  he  spared  himself  some  expense 
by  using  gray  instead  of  blue,  which  was  the  costliest 
of  pigments. 

We  turn  now  from  the  atmosphere  of  Italy  to  that 
of  Germany,  and  take  three  characteristic  examples  of 
Teutonic  art  in  the  early  part  of  the  sixteenth  century. 


176  THE    CHRIST- CHILD   IN   ART 

These  are  all  pictures  of  the  Repose,  and  their  manner 
is  idyllic  rather  than  dramatic.  The  weakest  of  the 
three  is  the  painting  by  Albrecht  Altdorfer,  the  ver- 
satile and  prosperous  city  architect  of  Ratisbon.  He 
has  let  his  bizarre  fancy  run  away  with  him,  and  over- 
loaded his  picture  with  details.  Yet  there  is  somthing 
original  and  pretty  in  the  little  angel  swimming  to 
meet  the  child  Jesus,  who  leans  from  Mary's  lap  and 
dips  his  hand  in  the  fountain.  But  what  a  fountain ! 
It  is  a  nightmare  of  the  Renaissance. 

Cranach's  engraving  is  far  more  satisfactory,  and  bet- 
ter even  than  his  own  earlier  sketch  of  the  same  sub- 
ject. It  is  signed  only  with  his  crest — a  dragon  with 
a  ring  in  its  mouth — but  its  authenticity  is  undoubted. 
The  Virgin  is  seated  at  the  foot  of  a  tree  against  which 
Joseph  is  leaning.  The  Child  stands  upon  his  mother  s 
lap  and  offers  her  an  apple.  Twelve  jolly  cherubs  are 
dancing  in  a  ring  before  them,  with  every  sign  of  de- 
light, while  two  other  cherubs  are  up  in  the  tree  rob- 
bing a  nest  and  killing  the  young  birds.  This  is  a 
strange  feature  in  such  a  peaceful  scene.  A  recent 
writer  has  explained  that  the  nest  is  an  eagle's  nest, 
and  its  destruction  typifies  the  overthrow  of  the  king- 
dom of  Satan  by  Christ.  But  the  old  birds  do  not 
look  in  the  least  like  eagles,  and  I  suppose  the  artist 
intended  the  incident  to  be  emblematic  of  the  slaughter 
of  the  innocents  at  Bethlehem.  It  is  a  quaint  conceit, 
but  not  very  complimentary  to  the  cherubic  disposition. 

Diirer's  engraving,  from  the  famous  series  of  The 
Life  of  the  F2>^2«,  published  in  1511,  is  altogether 
lovely  and   lovable.     Merely    as  an    example  of    early 


THE    FLIGHT   INTO    EGYPT 


179 


xylographic  art  it  shows  the  hand  of  a  master,  strong, 
steady,  direct.  But  when  we  enter  into  the  thought 
and  feeling  of  the  picture  we  recognize  even  higher 
qualities.  It  is  the  home  in  Egypt.  True,  the  archi- 
tecture has  a  look  of  Nuremberg,  and  the  miraculous 
fountain  in  the  background  flows  through  a  wooden 
spout  such  as  may  have  stood  in  the  court -yard  of 
Diirer's  own  house.  But  to  the  lowly  heart  there  are 
no  anachronisms.  The  thought  of  the  artist  dissolves 
the  bonds  of  time.  He  will  have  us  remember  that 
home  is  home,  wherever  it  may  be,  and  that  the  love 
of  Joseph  and  Mary  could  make  a  safe  and  happy 
place  for  the  child  Jesus  even  in  exile.  So  the  honest 
carpenter  toils  away  at  his  trade,  while  the  cheerful 
cherubs  bustle  around  to  help  him.  Mary  sits  near  by 
with  distaff  and  spindle,  quietly  working,  and  with  her 
foot  rocking  the  cradle  in  which  little  Jesus  lies  asleep. 
Even  the  angels  do  not  disturb  her  placid  soul.  The 
picture  is  a  song  in  praise  of  industry  and  love ;  it  is 
an  idyl  of  the  joy  of  home  even  in  a  far  land.  Blessed 
is  the  child  who  finds  such  shelter  amid  the  tumult  and 
strife  of  the  world ! 

Murillo's  Flight,  which  is  in  the  Hermitage  at  St. 
Petersburg,  is  painted  in  a  very  tender  spirit,  and  full 
of  feeling.  The  drawing  in  the  lower  part  of  the  pict- 
ure is  not  very  secure,  but  the  faces  of  Joseph  and 
Mary,  bending  together  over  the  Child,  are  touched 
with  beautiful  solicitude  and  deep  love.  They  forget 
the  weariness  of  the  journey  in  their  delight  in  Jesus, 
and  the  Child,  pure  and  peaceful,  as  Murillo  always 
conceives  him,  looks  up  with  bright  wonder  at  the  an- 


i8o  THE   CHRIST- CHILD    IN    ART 

gels  above  his  head.  A  soft  warm  air  envelops  the 
group,  and  seems  to  waft  them  all  gently  onward.  It 
is  a  bit  of  sentiment,  almost  passing  into  Schwarmerei ; 
but,  after  all,  it  is  pure  and  noble — a  celestial  reverie. 

Three  pictures  of  this  subject,  all  produced  within  the 
present  generation,  may  be  taken  as  illustrations  of  the 
different  ways  in  which  the  modern  spirit  deals  with 
the  life  of  the  child  Jesus. 

M.  Pierre  Lagarde's  painting  of  the  Flight  is  a 
lyric  set  in  a  minor  key.  The  thought  which  has 
impressed  him  is  the  loneliness  of  the  journey.  There 
are  no  angels  in  the  sky.  The  wide  desert  shows  no 
sign  of  life,  save  this  poor  little  household  wandering 
on  through  the  trackless  waste.  The  slender  Virgin 
droops  like  a  wilted  flower,  Joseph's  steps  are  heavy  and 
slow,  and  the  Child  sleeps  on  his  mother's  arm.  This 
plaintive  ballade  is  all  that  the  artist  has  found  in  the 
story  of  the  Flight. 

M.  Merson's  striking  sketch  of  the  Repose  is  far 
more  suggestive.  He  is  not,  indeed,  the  first  to  intro- 
duce distinctly  Egyptian  features  into  the  landscape, 
for  I  believe  Poussin  attempted  this,  in  his  cold,  vague 
way,  several  times.  But  M.  Merson  is  the  first  to 
do  it  accurately  and  thoughtfully.  This  drawing,  slight 
as  it  is,  is  worthy  of  the  man  who,  when  he  was  paint- 
ing the  encounter  of  "  St.  Francis  and  the  Wolf  of 
Gubbio,"  travelled  all  the  way  from  Rome  to  Gubbio 
in  order  to  get  his  landscape  true  to  nature.  Even 
more  noteworthy  is  the  way  in  which  he  has  touched 
upon  the  dim  foreshadowing  of  the  story  of  Jesus  in 
the  mythology  of  ancient  Egypt.      The    Virgin,  shel- 


THE  NEW  YORK 

PUBLIC  LIBRARY 


ASTOR,   LENOX  AND 
TILDEN   FoUNOATlONa 

c 


THE    FLIGHT    INTO    EGYPT  183 

tered  in  a  corner  of  a  ruined  temple,  and  holding  her 
Child  at  her  breast,  looks  up  in  amazement,  and  sees 
upon  the  gray  stones  beside  her  the  gigantic  outline 
of  "  Isis,  the  good  mother,  the  faithful  nurse,  suck- 
ling her  son  Horus."  What  thoughts  of  wonder  and 
of  fear  must  have  passed  her  heart !  It  is  a  miracle,  a 
marvel,  this  strange  coincidence,  but  a  marvel  alto- 
gether in  the  manner  of  the  curious,  complex  nine- 
teenth century.  This  picture  is  in  fact  the  modern 
version  of  the  old  story  of  the  conquered  idols.  They 
do  not  tumble  from  their  places  in  ruinous  dismay  at 
the  approach  of  Jesus,  but  they  stand  crumbling  in 
sculptured  impotence  above  the  living  Child,  whose 
divine  force  is  to  go  out  as  light  and  life  to  the  utter- 
most parts  of  the  earth  and  the  end  of  time.  And 
if  there  was  aught  of  good  in  their  vanishing  worship, 
any  conception  of  holy  love  and  sacred  maternity  and 
redemptive  power,  all  this  was  taken  up  and  purified 
and  consummated  in  the  religion  of  Jesus. 

Mr.  Holman  Hunt's  magnificent  painting  of  the 
Flight  is  undoubtedly  the  greatest  in  the  series,  and 
to  my  mind  the  most  important  religious  picture  of 
the  century.  It  is  impossible  to  get  any  just  idea  of  it 
from  an  engraving,  however  faithful  and  painstaking, 
nor  shall  I  dare  to  describe  its  opulence  of  colour,  its 
glorious  mysteries  of  light,  the  grandeur,  simplicity, 
and  vigour  of  its  style.  I  remember  well  the  days  that 
I  spent  before  it  in  the  summer  of  1886,  when  it  was 
exhibited  in  London,  and  again  in  the  painter's  studio 
in  1892,  when  he  was  repainting  the  head  of  the  Vir- 
gin, and   the   hours    were  cheered  with   beautiful  talk 


l84  THE    CHRIST- CHILD   IN    ART 

about  his  life  in  Palestine,  where  the  picture  was  con- 
ceived. The  rich  bloom  of  the  landscape,  the  gar- 
lands of  heavenly  human  children,  the  joyous  radi- 
ance of  the  infant  Jesus,  made  it  seem  like  a  dream, 
full  of  real  forms,  lucid  and  beautiful  and  bright  with 
rainbow  hues,  yet  tremulous  with  mystical  meaning, 
and  ready  to  vanish  at  a  breath  into  the  circumam- 
bient night.  This  is  the  wonder  of  the  picture;  its 
realism  is  so  intense  and  its  mysticism  is  so  deep, 
and  both  are  blended  together  in  the  unity  of  a  vis- 
ion. Nothing  could  be  more  solid  and  life-like  than 
the  painting  of  Joseph,  with  his  bronzed,  muscular 
limbs,  and  the  basket  of  tools  on  his  back.  The  ass, 
intelligent  and  strong,  has  all  the  marks  of  the  high- 
bred Mecca  race.  The  flowers  are  those  that  star  the 
plains  of  Palestine  in  early  spring,  each  one  painted 
with  such  loving  care  that  it  seems  to  blossom  forever. 
Moon-threads — filmy  beams — weave  a  veil  of  light  over 
the  trees  and  distant  hills  of  Judah.  The  wreaths  of 
children  are  full  of  natural,  human  grace,  brighter  and 
more  lovely  than  any  of  Donatello's  or  Luca  deila 
Robbia's.  Years  of  patient  toil  have  been  spent  upon 
the  canvas  to  give  it  reality,  and  make  it  true  at  every 
point  where  truth  was  possible.  But  beyond  all  this, 
and  above  it  —  nay,  breathing  through  every  careful 
line  and  glowing  colour —  is  the  soul,  the  spirit  of  the 
picture,  which  irradiates  it  with 

"The  light  that  never  was  on  sea  or  land, 
The  consecration,  and  the  poet's  dream." 

The  painter  has  expressed  his  meaning  in  the  title 


THE    FLIGHT    INTO    EGYPT  185 

of  the  picture.  It  is  called  "  The  Triumph  of  the  In- 
nocents."  And  this  is  the  thought  which  he  has  im- 
mortalized. 

The  spirits  of  the  murdered  children  of  Bethlehem 
— not  a  great  multitude,  as  they  are  often  thoughtless- 
ly depicted,  but  a  little  band  such  as  really  played 
in  that  little  village — have  followed  after  Jesus  on  his 
flight.  Joseph  is  turning  back  anxiously  to  watch  the 
signal-fires  which  burn  upon  the  hills.  Mary  is  busied 
in  readjusting  the  garments  which  had  been  hastily 
thrown  about  her  infant  at  the  departure.  But  the 
Holy  Child  looks  round,  and  seeing  the  spirits  of  his 
playmates,  welcomes  them  with  the  gladness  of  a  divine 
sympathy.  The  hand  which  He  stretches  out  to  them 
holds  a  few  ears  of  wheat,  the  symbol  of  the  bread  of 
life.  These  children  are  the  first  of  his  glorious  band 
of  martyrs,  and  as  they  draw  near  to  Him,  the  meaning 
of  their  martyrdom  flashes  upon  them,  and  their  sor- 
row is  changed  into  joy.  The  last  group  of  little 
ones  have  not  yet  felt  his  presence,  and  the  pain  and 
terror  of  mortality  are  still  heavy  upon  them.  Over 
the  head  of  one  the  halo  is  just  descending.  A  little 
farther  on  a  circle  of  flower -decked  boys  and  girls 
are  bringing  the  tired  foal  up  to  its  mother's  side. 
One  baby  saint  looks  down,  amazed  to  see  that  the 
scar  of  the  sword  has  vanished  from  his  breast.  In 
front  floats  a  trio  of  perfectly  happy  spirits,  one  carry- 
ing a  censer  and  singing,  the  others  casting  down 
branches  of  the  palm  and  the  vine.  At  their  feet  rolls 
the  river  of  life,  breaking  into  golden  bubbles,  in  which 
the  glories  of  the  millennium  are  reflected. 


i86  THE    CHRIST- CHILD    IN    ART 

All  mystical,  symbolical,  visionary !  But  is  it  not 
also  true  ?  Think  for  a  moment.  It  is  the  religion 
of  Jesus  that  has  transfigured  martyrdom  and  canon- 
ized innocence.  It  is  the  religion  of  Jesus  that  tells 
us  of  a  heaven  full  of  children,  and  a  kingdom  which 
is  to  bring  heaven  down  to  earth.  And  so  long  as  the 
religion  of  Jesus  lives,  it  will  mean  help  and  blessing 
to  the  martyred  innocents  of  our  race  —  the  children 
who  are  oppressed  in  slavery,  and  neglected  in  want, 
and  crushed  by  human  avarice  and  ambition  and  cru- 
elty in  the  wheels  of  the  great  world — help  and  bless- 
ing to  these  little  ones  in  the  name  and  for  the  sake  of 
the  holy  child  Jesus. 


THE  CHILDHOOD   OF  JESUS 


Obf  say  not,  dream  not,  heavenly  notes 

To  childish  ears  are  vain, 
That  the  young  mind  at  random  floats^ 

And  cannot  reach  the  strain. 

Was  not  our  Lord  a  little  child, 

Taught  by  degrees  to  pray. 
By  father  dear  and  mother  mild 

Instructed  day  by  day  ? 

John  Keble. 


3tnJr  tbe  cf)tlb  ffrcto,  anU  toapeU  strangf  tn  eptrtt,  ffUeH 
tDtt^  tDietiatn ;  anU  ti)e  pate  of  (Bati  toae  ttpon  liim. 

JItJotD  bis  parents  tornt  to  ^erttsalem  eijerj*  pear  at  t^e 
feast  o£  tfje  passotier. 

^\ii}  \a^tn  ()e  teas  tioellie  i)ears  olU,  tijep  toent  up  to  3^er«= 
salem  after  t!)e  custom  of  tlje  least. 

SlnU  tol)en  t^ep  ()a5  fulfilleti  t()e  traps,  as  t))Z]^  returned, 
tlft  c^iltj  3festifi  tarrieU  be()tnti  in  S^erusalem ;  anU  STosepl)  ana 
(lis  mother  linetu  not  of  it. 

-fittt  t\)t]^,  snpposins:  ^im  to  l)atoe  been  in  t^e  companp, 
toent  a  iap's  jonrnep ;  anii  t^ep  souffl^t  iiim  among;  t))tiv  Mm^ 
folfe  anU  acqttaintance. 

3lnU  tD()cn  tJjep  founiJ  i)m  not,  t()ep  turneti  bacfe  af  ain  tu 
3reru3alcm,  secfetng;  ()im. 

^nU  it  came  to  pass,  tj)at  after  tl)ree  Japs  tliep  foonU  Sjim 
in  t|)e  temple,  sitting;  in  t^e  mitist  of  tj)e  tioctors,  bot^  f)ear= 
ing;  tfjcm,  anU  asifeing;  t()em  questions. 

StnU  all  t^at  ^carH  I)im  tocre  astcnis^cti  at  ^is  unHerstanU^ 
iaff  aiiU  anstners. 

'M.xii  to&en  t^ep  sato  bim,  tfjep  toere  ama^eli :  anlJ  bis  motb 
er  saiU  unto  dim,  ^on,  tobp  bast  tljou  tbtis  lealt  )aiith  us  ? 
bebolB,  ti)p  fatber  anti  ^  babe  6aug;bt  tbee  sorroining;. 

anU  be  saiti  unto  tbem,  l3oto  ts  it  tbat  pe  60ttg;bt  me  ? 
315Eist  pe  not  tbat  ^  must  be  about  mp  JFatber's  business  ? 

Slnti  tbep  unUerstooH  not  tbe  sapinf  tobicb  b^  spafee  unto 
tl)cm. 

ainJi  be  toent  Hoton  tottb  tbem,  anU  came  to  jQa^aretb,  an^ 
toas  subject  unto  tbem :  but  bis  motber  liept  all  t[)ese  saping;a 
in  ber  b^art. 

SlnB  3fesus  increased  in  toistiom  anU  stature,  anU  in 
fauaur  toitb  <Sati  anU  man.— Luke,  ii.  40-52. 


I 

HERE  are  some  who  find  it  difficult  to  think 
that  Jesus  ever  had  a  real  and  true  child- 
hood. They  cannot  see  how  one  who  ap- 
peared before  the  world  with  such  divine  authority 
and  fulfilled  his  mission  so  sublimely  could  ever  have 
been 

"A  simple  child 
That  lightly  draws  its  breath.* 

The  lowly  birth  in  the  stable  at  Bethlehem  they  ac- 
cept ;  the  supreme  ministry  of  Christ  among  men  they 
accept ;  but  that  there  was  a  time  between,  an  early 
morning-tide  of  soft  light  and  gentle  dews  of  grace  and 
joy,  when  the  soul  of  Jesus,  unfolding  like  a  flower,  in- 
creased in  wisdom  and  beauty  towards  perfection — this 
seems  to  them  difficult  to  believe  without  endangering 
his  supreme  dignity.  They  would  rather  represent 
Him  as  entering  life  complete  and  perfect,  equipped 
with  all  knowledge  and  power,  even  as  Minerva  in 
the  heathen  legend  sprang  full-armed  from  the  brain 
of  jove. 

But  the  evangelist  Luke,  who  must  surely  have 
thought  as  reverently  and  devoutly  of  Christ's  suprem- 
acy as  any  man  could  think,  does  not  seem  to  have 


I90  THE    CHRIST- CHILD    IN    ART 

felt  this  difficulty ;  for  he  says,  "  And  the  child  grew, 
and  waxed  strong,  becoming  full  of  wisdom,  and  the 
grace  of  God  was  upon  him." 

This  is  a  very  brief  record  to  cover  such  an  impor- 
tant period  of  life  as  that  which  lies  between  infancy 
and  the  twelfth  year ;  and  yet,  brief  as  it  is,  how  clearly 
it  illuminates  the  vital  truth.  Growth  is  the  key-word 
of  the  passage.  Growth  is  the  wonder  and  the  glory 
of  all  childhood.  Growth  was  the  beautiful  secret  of 
the  childhood  of  Jesus. 

It  is  a  marvellous  thing  to  see  even  a  plant  grow. 
If  we  were  watching  for  the  first  time  the  unfolding 
of  stalk  and  leaf  and  bloom  and  fruit  from  a  tiny  seed, 
we  should  call  it  a  gradual  miracle.  How  does  that 
invisible  and  regnant  principle  in  the  germ  draw  the 
earth  and  the  air,  the  water  and  the  light  into  its  life 
and  mould  them  to  its  ideal  form  ?  It  is  a  mystery. 
But  how  much  more  mysterious  is  the  growth  of  a 
child.  The  double  development,  physical  and  spirit- 
ual ;  the  dawn  of  intelligence  in  the  vague  eyes ;  the 
motions  of  will  in  the  fluttering  hands;  the  limbs 
rounding  to  symmetry  and  strength ;  the  face  lighting 
up  with  thought  and  feeling ;  the  formation  of  charac- 
ter with  distinct  affections  and  desires ;  the  mastery  of 
language  which  reveals  the  character  to  the  ear,  and 
of  action  which  reflects  it  to  the  eye;  the  advance  in 
knowledge,  apparently  so  slow,  yet  often  in  reality  so 
swift  below  the  surface,  reaching  out  in  secret,  feeling 
its  way  where  we  cannot  follow  it,  towards  the  beauti- 
ful surprise  of  the  first  manifestation  of  true  wisdom, 
when  the  child  says  suddenly,  and  as  if  by  revelation, 


THE    ORLEANS    MADONNA RAPHAEL 

From   the  painting  in  the   Art    Gallery  at  Chan'dlly 


THE  NEW  YORK 

PUBLIC  LIBRARY 


ASTOR,    LENOX   AN* 
TILDEN    FoUNO«TI«NS. 


THE    CHILDHOOD    OF  JESUS  193 

"  I  feel  my  duty,  I  know  what  I  must  do — "  all  this  is 
surely  one  of  the  most  marvellously  lovely  and  inex- 
plicable things  in  the  world.  And  it  is  just  this  that 
the  evangelist  assures  us  came  to  pass  in  the  life  of 
Jesus. 

It  cannot  be  explained  in  Him  any  more  than  in 
other  children.  It  must  have  been  more  wonderful  in 
Him  than  in  other  children  by  so  much  as  the  final  per- 
fection of  his  wisdom  and  power  rises  above  all  human 
standards.  But  it  was  no  less  real.  He  did  not  return 
from  the  flight  into  Egypt  as  a  premature  sage,  a  mir- 
acle-working  magician  in  the  disguise  of  an  infant,  to 
wait  at  Nazareth  until  the  time  came  for  Him  to  make 
his  public  appearance.  He  was  brought  back  by  his 
parents  as  a  little  child,  to  grow  up  in  the  shelter  of  a 
loving  home.  He  thought  as  a  child,  while  He  learned 
his  letters  and  began  to  read  in  the  Holy  Scriptures  of 
his  people,  standing  beside  his  mother's  knee.  He  felt 
as  a  child,  while  he  wandered  and  played  with  his 
cousin,  the  little  St.  John,  in  the  blossomy  fields  of 
Galilee.  He  spake  as  a  child,  while  He  walked  with 
Mary  and  Joseph,  or  sat  in  the  carpenter-shop  helping 
a  little  and  hindering  a  little  with  the  work,  but  bring- 
ing into  the  daily  life  of  the  labouring  man  that  inno- 
cent and  uplifting  charm  which  comes  from  compan- 
ionship with  a  gentle  boy. 

There  does  not  appear  to  have  been  anything  vio- 
lent or  startling  in  the  development  of  his  personality. 
It  went  forward  gradually  and  imperceptibly.  The 
evangelist  suggests  this  by  the  solitary  incident  which 
he  relates  of  Christ's  early  years. 


194  THE    CHRIST- CHILD   IN    ART 

When  his  parents  had  taken  Him  at  the  age  of 
twelve,  according  to  the  Jewish  custom,  to  his  first 
Passover  in  Jerusalem,  and  had  lost  Him  in  the  crowd, 
and  sought  Him  in  vain,  and  found  Him  at  last  in  one 
of  the  little  groups  which  used  to  gather  in  the  Temple 
courts  around  the  teachers  of  the  law,  none  were  so 
much  amazed  at  his  presence  there  as  Mary  and  Joseph. 
His  answer  to  their  gentle  reproaches,  "  How  is  it  that 
ye  sought  me  ?  Wist  ye  not  that  I  must  be  about  my 
Fathers  business?"  suddenly  disclosed  to  them  the 
change  which  had  taken  place  in  their  Child  so  secret- 
ly that  they  knew  it  not.  He  had  crossed  the  hidden 
threshold.  He  had  heard  the  still  voice  which  spoke 
to  Him  of  his  place,  his  duty,  his  work  in  the  world. 
He  had  come  within  sight  of  the  truth  that  for  Him 
the  questions  that  have  to  do  with  religion  must  be 
of  chief  concern,  so  that  he  could  rightly  forget  all 
other  interests,  and  be  lost  and  absorbed  in  the  prep- 
aration for  his  ministry.  The  self-denials  and  hard- 
ships which  must  have  been  involved  for  a  boy  of  twelve 
in  three  days'  absence  from  his  parents  in  order  to 
listen  to  the  teachers  of  religion  were  in  fact  the  first 
of  that  long  series  of  self-sacrifices  which  culminated 
on  Calvary.  He  did  not  arrive  at  it  magically,  by  a 
leap  from  infancy  to  maturity.  He  grew  up  to  it 
through  long  and  beautiful  years  of  slow  increase, 
through  the  wonder  and  awe  of  new  thoughts  dawning 
with  every  morning,  and  new  affections  deepening  with 
every  evening,  and  a  soul  enlarging  as  the  silent  in- 
fluence of  orrace  filled  it  more  and  more»  And  it  was 
for  this  reason  that  they  could  not  understand  it,  be- 


THE   CHILDHOOD    OF  JESUS  195 

cause  they  were  his  parents,  because  they  lived  so  close 
to  Him  that  it  seemed  incredible  that  this  change 
should  have  taken  place  without  their  knowledge,  be- 
cause the  hardest  of  all  things  for  parents  to  believe 
is  that  the  childhood  of  their  child  has  really  passed 
away. 


II 


If  we  are  right,  then,  in  reading  the  authentic  record 
of  the  early  years  of  Christ  after  this  simple  and  nat- 
ural fashion,  what  shall  we  make  of  those  unauthentic 
legends  that  are  contained  in  the  apocryphal  books? 
They  must  seem  to  us  very  absurd  and  barbarous,  the 
tawdry  inventions  of  a  poverty-stricken  fancy,  which 
really  spoil  the  story  they  are  intended  to  adorn. 
They  are  full  of  childish  and  ridiculous  miracles. 
They  represent  Christ  as  a  precocious  Rabbi  who 
takes  the  words  out  of  his  teacher's  mouth  and  re- 
proves those  who  would  instruct  Him.  They  even  de- 
scribe Him,  with  curiously  blind  irreverence,  as  using 
Almighty  power  to  ensure  the  success  of  his  childish 
games  and  to  punish  his  companions  when  they  thwart 
or  offend  Him.  Now  and  then  one  lights  upon  little 
touches  of  nature  among  these  legends,  as  when  the 
child  Jesus  is  represented  as  bringing  water  for  his 
mother  from  the  well,  or  going  with  his  father  to  his 
work  in  the  city.  But  even  these  are  spoiled  by  the 
miraculous  additions.  The  pitcher  which  Jesus  is 
carrying  is  broken,  and   He  brings  the  water  in    the 


196  THE   CHRIST- CHILD   IN.  ART 

corner  of  his  robe.  The  couch  which  Joseph  is  mak- 
ing for  a  rich  customer  is  too  short,  and  Jesus  takes 
hold  of  the  wood  at  one  end  and  pulls  it  out  to  a 
proper  length. 

Many  of  the  pretended  wonders  are  less  innocent 
than  these.  A  single  example,  from  the  Greek  form 
of  Thomas  the  Israelite  P hilosopher  s  Account  of  the 
Lifajicy  of  Our  Lord,  will  be  enough  to  show  the  qual- 
ity of  this  literature : 

"  This  child  Jesus,  when  five  years  old,  was  playing 
in  the  ford  of  a  mountain  stream  ;  and  He  collected  the 
flowing  waters  into  pools  and  made  them  clear  immedi- 
ately; and  by  a  word  alone  He  made  them  obey  Him. 
And  having  made  some  soft  clay  He  fashioned  out  of 
it  twelve  sparrows.  And  it  was  the  Sabbath  when  He 
did  these  things.  And  there  were  also  many  other  chil- 
dren playing  with  Him.  And  a  certain  Jew,  seeing 
what  Jesus  was  doing,  playing  on  the  Sabbath,  went  off 
immediately,  and  said  to  his  father,  Joseph:  Behold 
thy  son  is  at  the  stream  and  has  taken  clay,  and  has 
made  of  it  twelve  birds,  and  has  profaned  the  Sabbath. 
And  Joseph,  coming  to  the  place  and  seeing,  cried  out 
to  Him :  Wherefore  doest  thou  on  the  Sabbath  what 
it  is  not  lawful  to  do  ?  And  Jesus  clapped  his  hands, 
and  said  to  the  sparrows :  Off  you  go !  And  the  spar- 
rows flew,  and  went  off,  crying.  And  the  Jews  seeing 
this  were  amazed,  and  went  away  and  reported  to  their 
chief  men  what  they  had  seen  Jesus  doing. 

"  And  the  son  of  Annas  the  scribe  was  standing  there 
with  Joseph ;  and  he  took  a  willow  branch  and  let  out 
the  waters  which  Jesus  had  collected.     And  Jesus  see- 


Ij 


11  i 


«r' 


>^¥('rr«i\. ' 


THE    CHILD    JESUS    IN    THE    FIELDS  —  ALFRED    liRAMTOF 


THK  NEW   YORK 

PUBLIC  LIBRARY 


ASTCR,  LENOX  AND 
TILDEN  FOUNDATIONS. 

C  l_ 


THE    CHILDHOOD    OF   JESUS  199 

ing  what  was  done  was  angry,  and  said  to  him  :  O 
wicked,  impious,  and  foolish !  what  harm  did  the  pools 
or  the  waters  do  thee  ?  Behold  even  now  thou  shalt  be 
dried  up  like  a  tree,  and  thou  shalt  not  bring  forth 
either  leaves  or  branches  or  fruit.  And  straightway 
that  boy  was  quite  dried  up.  And  Jesus  departed  and 
went  to  Joseph's  house.  But  the  parents  of  the  boy 
that  had  been  dried  up  took  him  up,  bewailing  his 
youth,  and  brought  him  to  Joseph,  and  reproached  him 
because,  said  they.  Thou  hast  a  child  doing  such 
things." 

It  seems  incredible  that  any  one  should  ever  have  in- 
vented or  believed  such  a  worthless  story  as  this.  It  is 
far  worse  than  the  playful  and  often  pretty  legends 
which  the  uninspired  fancy  of  the  early  centuries  wove 
about  the  Nativity  and  the  Adoration  of  the  Magi ;  for 
they  were  harmless ;  but  this  is  distinctly  immoral.  It 
is  really  an  expression  of  that  deeply-rooted  heresy 
which  troubled  the  early  Church  and  still  survives  in 
other  forms  to-day — the  falsehood  which  ascribes  the 
supremacy  of  Christ  and  the  excellency  of  God  to 
unlimited  power  rather  than  to  perfect  love.  I  have 
quoted  it  merely  in  order  that  we  might  feel  more 
sharply  the  contrast  between  a  false  gospel  and  a  true 
one,  and  turn  back  with  new  delight  to  the  candour 
and  lucidity  and  divine  naturalness  of  St.  Luke's 
outline  of  the  childhood  of  Jesus. 


200  THE   CHRIST- CHILD   IN   ART 


III 


But  if  legend  gives  us  no  real  help  in  filling  out  the 
outline  of  Christ's  childhood,  art  is  all  the  more  rich  and 
generous.  No  part  of  the  gospel  history  has  been  more 
abundantly  and  beautifully  illustrated  than  this  single 
verse  of  St.  Luke,  telling  us  in  a  word  how  quietly 
the  life  of  Jesus  unfolded  in  the  home  at  Nazareth. 

The  theme,  which  the  verse  gives  so  clearly,  is  the 
growth  of  a  Holy  Child.  Around  this  theme  a  multi- 
tude of  the  greatest  artists  have  woven  innumerable 
harmonies  and  variations,  teaching  us  to  remember 
how  many  influences  must  enter  into  the  development 
of  such  a  child  in  God's  world.  They  have  wisely  dis- 
carded the  use  of  all  those  miraculous  tales  which  are 
so  foreign  to  the  truth  of  the  story.  There  are  but 
few  pictures  in  which  even  the  most  distant  allusion 
to  the  apocryphal  accounts  of  Christ's  boyhood  can  be 
traced,  and  none  of  them  are  by  great  masters.  They 
have  not  attempted  to  add  any  definite  historical  details 
to  the  narrative.  They  have  left  it  still  vague  and 
free,  a  suggestion  rather  than  a  chronicle.  But  into 
their  conception  of  the  dawning  of  that  life  which  rose 
to  be  the  light  of  men,  they  have  brought  all  that 
they  knew  of  innocent  beauty,  and  fresh  joy  in  birds 
and  flowers,  and  glad  companionship  of  merry  play- 
mates, and  sacred  intimacies  of  home,  and  delight 
of  new  thoughts  gathered  from  nature  and  from 
books,  and  sweet,  satisfying  devotion  of  mother -love. 
They   have  surrounded   the    Christ-child    with   angels 


LA    BELLE    JARDINIERE  —  RAPHAEL 
From  the  painting  in  the  Louvre 


THE    CHILDHOOD    OF    JESUS  203 

singing,  or  playing  on  lutes  and  viols,  remembering, 
perhaps   from    the  looks    of   their   own   children,  that 

"  Beauty  born  of  murmuring  sound," 

which  passes  into  the  listening  face,  and  those  secret 
visitations  of  inconceivable  awe  which  make  the  child- 
ish eyes  look  far  away,  beholding  the  unseen.  All  this 
they  have  put  into  the  childhood  of  Jesus,  unhesi- 
tatingly and  with  perfect  confidence,  as  if  a  voice  had 
said  to  them,  "  Look  into  thine  own  heart,  and  paint." 

For  this  sacred  instinct  of  art  there  is  abundant 
historical  justification.  I  do  not  suppose  that  the 
painters  thought  of  seeking  for  it;  but  if  they  had, 
they  would  have  found  good  ground  for  believing  that 
the  child  Jesus,  living  in  a  devout  Hebrew  household 
in  the  little  town  of  Nazareth,  must  have  enjoyed  the 
four  great  blessings  of  childhood : 

A  pure  and  peaceful  home,  ruled  by  love  and  piety. 

A  fresh  and  simple  life,  in  close  contact  with  nature. 

A  joyous  fellowship  with  other  children. 

A  patient  and  reverent  education. 

The  Jewish  people  have  always  been  distinguished 
for  their  loving  care  of  child-life,  and  for  the  strength 
of  their  family  feeling.  We  have  an  unconscious  evi- 
dence of  this  in  the  eight  distinct  names  used  in  the 
Hebrew  language  to  mark  the  different  periods  of  a 
child's  growth.  All  the  traditions  of  the  race  were  in 
favour  of  the  sanctities  of  the  home,  and  their  Holy 
Scriptures  hedged  it  about  and  hallowed  it  by  the  au- 
thority of  Jehovah  himself.  Whether  the  house  of 
Joseph  and  Mary  was  but  a  humble  cottage,  or  a  dwell- 


204  THE    CHRIST- CHILD   IN   ART 

ing  of  comparative  comfort  (and  we  can  argue  noth- 
ing on  this  point  from  the  fact  that  Joseph  was  a  car- 
penter, for  every  Jewish  man,  rich  or  poor,  learned  a 
trade),  we  may  be  sure  that  Jesus  was  nurtured  in  that 
atmosphere  of  mutual  affection  and  intimate  joy  which 
is  the  true  air  of  home. 

Moreover,  it  was  a  happy  circumstance  that  this 
home  was  in  Galilee.  For  although  that  northern 
province  was  despised  by  the  inhabitants  of  Jerusalem, 
as  being  rude  in  speech  and  rustic  in  manners,  life  there 
was  far  more  free  and  natural  than  it  was  in  Judea, 
where  the  yoke  of  ceremonialism  pressed  heavily  upon 
the  people,  and  their  spirit  seemed  to  reflect  something 
of  the  sombreness  of  the  landscape.  Galilee  was  fair 
and  smiling.  The  vine  and  the  olive  flourished  there ; 
the  Rabbis  said  "  it  was  easier  to  rear  a  forest  of  olive- 
trees  in  Galilee  than  one  child  in  Judea."  There  was 
something  of  the  same  difference,  I  suppose,  in  the 
country  and  the  people,  between  Galilee  and  Judea,  that 
there  is  in  Italy  between  Tuscany  and  Umbria,  And 
certainly  childhood  must  have  been  happier  and  more 
untrammelled  in  the  merrier  land,  where  the  face  of 
nature,  if  less  grand  and  awe-inspiring,  wore  a  brighter 
and  more  benignant  aspect,  and  where  life  was  less 
closely  bound  by  rules  and  restrictions.  The  little  town 
of  Nazareth  lies  in  a  high  valley.  "  Fifteen  gently 
rounded  hills,"  says  a  modern  traveller,  "seem  as  if 
they  met  to  form  an  enclosure  for  this  peaceful  basin. 
They  rise  round  it  like  the  edge  of  a  shell  to  guard  it 
from  intrusion.  It  is  a  rich  and  beautiful  field  abound- 
ing in  gay  flowers,  in  fig-trees,  small  gardens,  hedges  of 


THE     VII^C.IN     AND     CHILD    WITH    ST.    JOHN-    UOTl'ICELLI 
From  the  painting  in  tlie   Louvre 


THE  NEW  YORK 

[PUBUC  llBUnY 


*STOR,   LEN»X  AN* 


THE   CHILDHOOD    OF   JESUS  207 

the  prickly-pear;  and  the  dense  rich  grass  affords  an 
abundant  pasture."  The  well  of  water  which  tradition 
points  out  as  the  scene  of  the  angel's  visit  to  the  Virgin 
Mary  still  flows  in  the  open  green  space  at  the  end  of 
the  town,  and  the  women,  fairer  than  the  other  daughters 
of  Palestine,  come  thither  to  draw,  and  the  children  in 
their  bright  robes  play  around  it.  There  can  be  little 
doubt  that  the  child  Jesus  found  innocent  joys  beside 
that  fountain  and  in  those  verdant  pastures.  The  inti- 
macy with  the  world  out-of-doors  which  his  later  teach- 
ing shows,  his  love  for  birds  and  flowers,  his  close 
observation  of  natural  objects,  the  fondness  with  which 
He  turned  for  rest  to  the  lonely  hill-sides  and  the  waters 
of  the  lake,  all  speak  of  one  of  those  deep  and  sincere 
friendships  with  nature  which  can  only  be  begun  in 
their  lasting  perfection  by  a  child. 

The  simplicity  of  the  Galilean  life  must  have  been 
favourable  also  to  tho^e  pleasures  of  human  intercourse 
that  are  tasted  most  perfectly  by  children  free  from 
care.  It  is  not  likely  that  the  parents  of  Jesus  were 
rich  enough  to  impose  on  Him  the  burden  of  a  luxu- 
rious and  artificial  life,  which  often  makes  childhood  so 
unhappy.  Once  at  least,  after  He  was  a  man.  He  spoke 
in  a  way  which  showed  his  familiarity  with  the  childish 
games  of  the  market-place.  The  warmth  and  devotion 
of  his  friendships  reveal  a  heart  that  did  not  grow 
reserved  in  early  solitude.  A  natural  companion  of  his 
boyish  pleasures  would  be  his  cousin,  the  child  of  Zach- 
arias  and  Elizabeth,  who  afterwards  became  John  the 
Baptist.  The  painters  have  made  no  error  when  they 
have  so  often  depicted  the  child  Jesus  and  the  young 


2o8  THE   CHRIST- CHILD   IN   ART 

St.  John  playing  together  with  lambs  or  birds  beside 
flowing  streams. 

But  we  may  be  sure  that  the  education  of  the  Child 
was  not  neglected,  for  on  this  point  the  Jewish  law  was 
strict.  Religion  was  the  chief  factor  in  education,  and 
doubtless  it  was  begun  by  the  mother,  who  would  ex- 
plain to  her  son  the  meaning  of  the  many  pious  rites 
and  customs  observed  in  the  household,  Hke  the 
lighting  of  the  Sabbath  lamp,  and  the  touching,  by 
every  one  who  passed  in  or  out  of  the  house,  of  the 
parchment  on  the  door-post  with  the  Divine  Name 
written  on  it.  The  fascinating  stories  of  the  Old  Tes- 
tament would  be  the  charms  by  which  she  would  hold 
Him  listening  in  her  arms.  She  would  teach  Him  pas- 
sages of  Scripture  to  recite  from  memory.  From  the 
same  sacred  pages  He  would  learn  his  letters.  When 
He  was  five  or  six  years  old  He  would  be  sent  to  school 
to  sit  on  the  floor  with  the  other  boys  around  the  teach- 
er and  receive  instruction,  the  Scriptures  remaining  his 
only  text -book  until  he  was  ten  years  old.  Whether 
there  was  a  school  in  Nazareth  at  the  time  of  Christ  we 
do  not  know,  for  the  introduction  of  universal  and  com- 
pulsory education  throughout  the  land  did  not  occur 
until  a  later  period.  But,  however  that  may  have  been, 
it  is  certain  that  the  devotion  of  such  parents  as  Mary 
and  Joseph  would  not  neglect  the  duties  of  instruction ; 
and  we  may  confidently  say  of  Jesus,  as  St.  Paul  said  of 
his  disciple,  Timothy,  that  "  from  a  child  he  knew  the 
Holy  Scriptures." 

Let  us  see,  then,  how  these  four  golden  threads  of 
home-life,  and  intercourse  with  nature,  and  happy  com- 


TlIK     HOl.Y     FAMILY  —  I'lN  lU  KICCIIH  ) 
From    the   painting   in    the  Academy   at    Sienna 


THE  NEW  YORK 

PUBLIC  LIBRARY 


ASTOR,   LENOX  AN* 
TILDEN  FOUNDATION*. 


THE    CHILDHOOD    OF   JESUS  211 

panionship,  and  holy  instruction,  have  been  woven  by 
the  artists  into  their  thought  of  the  childhood  of  Christ. 

The  works  of  art  which  depict  the  subject  are  almost 
innumerable.  We  cannot  include  here  those  pictures 
of  the  Madonna  and  Child  in  which  Jesus  is  still  a  little 
babe  clinging  to  his  mother  or  nursing  at  her  breast ; 
nor  the  altar-pieces  in  which  they  are  enthroned  be- 
tween attendant  saints,  although  one  of  these,  "  La 
Sistina,"  contains  the  most  glorious  image  of  the 
Christ -child  that  the  world  has  ever  seen.  But  all 
those  representations  of  the  Madonna  and  Child  in 
which  Jesus  is  older,  and  especially  those  in  which 
there  is  some  significant  action  between  Him  and  his 
mother,  belong  to  this  class.  Here  I  should  place, 
for  example,  the  much  admired  "  round  Madonna "  of 
Botticelli,  in  the  Uffizi  at  Florence,  where  Mary  is  writ- 
ing the  words  of  her  hymn  in  a  book  which  angels 
hold  before  her,  while  the  Child  looks  up  in  her  face 
and  lays  his  hand  upon  hers,  as  if  to  draw  it  to  Himself. 
In  the  same  class  belong  the  Madonnas  of  Diirer  and 
many  other  painters  in  which  the  mother  is  giving  the 
Child  a  pear  or  an  apple  to  play  with,  and  the  Madonna 
Colonna,  in  the  Berlin  Museum,  where  Mary  is  reading 
and  the  Child  distracts  her  attention  by  pulling  at  the 
bosom  of  her  dress. 

A  charming  picture  of  this  type  is  Raphael's  small 
Madonna  of  the  Orleans  family,  in  the  art  gallery  at 
Chantilly.  It  was  painted  at  a  time  when  Raphael's 
manner  was  changing,  and  bears  evidence  of  having 
been  often  retouched  and  altered.  The  little  shelf  with 
porcelain  vessels  in  the  background  indicates  that  it  is 


212  THE    CHRIST-CHILD    IN    ART 

an  in-door  scene,  which  is  an  unusual  thing  with  this 
master.  He  seems  to  have  been  trying  to  express  a 
purely  domestic  sentiment  in  the  simplest  forms.  But 
unlike  the  German  masters,  who  would  have  been  sat- 
isfied with  mere  homeliness,  Raphael  was  not  content 
until  he  could  reduce  his  idea  to  an  essentially  lucid 
and  graceful  and  symmetrical  form.  The  Child,  who 
seems  to  be  about  a  year  and  a  half  old,  and  has  that 
face  of  Divine  seriousness  which  Raphael  rendered  so 
perfectly,  is  trying  to  lift  himself  up  to  his  mother's 
breast,  while  she  bends  over  Him,  half  tenderly  and 
half  playfully,  with  a  look  of  motherly  denial.  The 
picture  suggests  very  delicately  the  growth  of  the 
Child,  and  the  sweet  cares  of  maternity.  Other  artists 
carry  the  thought  further  on  and  more  into  detail;  not 
always  with  much  artistic  power,  but  often  with  a  very 
attractive  sentiment.  I  remember  a  sunny  little  bit  of 
painting  by  Francesco  Trevisiani  in  one  of  the  small 
rooms  of  the  Uffizi,  which  represents  the  Virgin  seated 
by  her  window  sewing,  with  her  hand  raised  drawing 
the  thread,  while  the  Child,  about  five  years  old,  comes 
running  in  with  a  passion-flower  which  He  gives  to  his 
mother. 

The  introduction  of  the  young  St.  John  into  the 
picture  brings  in  a  new  element  of  life.  Sometimes 
the  two  children  are  playing  together,  alone  or  sur- 
rounded by  angels.  This  is  the  theme  which  has  heen 
so  prettily  treated  by  some  of  the  painters  of  the  seven- 
teenth century:  Murillo,  Van  Dyck,  Rubens,  Guido 
Reni.  But  the  most  famous  pictures  of  the  two  chil- 
dren represent  them  with  the  Virgin  Mary.      In  this 


THE    HOLY    FA^^I.Y —  FRANZ     DEFRKCGF.K 
From   tlie    painting  in   the   villac;e   cliiirch   at   Dolsacl\ 


THE  NEW  YORK 

PUBLIC  LIBRARY 


ASTOR,   LENOX  AN* 
TILDEN  FOUN0«TlONi. 

c  l_ 


THE    CHILDHOOD    OF   JESUS  215 

class  we  find  five  of  Raphael's  most  exquisite  Madon- 
nas:  the  Madonna  of  the  Green  Fields,  in  the  Belvi- 
dere  at  Vienna;  the  Madonna  of  the  Goldfinch  in  the 
Uffizi,  and  the  Madonna  of  the  Chair  in  the  Pitti,  at 
Florence ;  the  Madonna  of  the  Diadem,  and  the  Ma- 
donna called  "  La  Belle  Jardiniere,"  in  the  Louvre  at 
Paris. 

The  last  of  these  pictures,  which  illustrates  Raphael's 
second,  or  Florentine  manner,  is  said  to  have  received 
its  name  from  the  tradition  that  the  painter  employed  a 
fiower-girl  as  his  model  for  the  Virgin.  But  whether  or 
not  it  has  any  real  connection  with  the  memory  of  "  a 
gardener's  daughter,"  it  suggests  the  thought  that  the 
childhood  of  Jesus  was  like  a  quiet  garden  in  which  the 
fairest  flower  that  ever  bloomed  on  earth  vv^as  tended 
by  a  daughter  of  the  Most  High.  The  landscape  is  in 
harmony  with  the  thought;  soft  and  fragile  blossoms 
star  the  elastic  sod;  the  slender  trees  are  clad  in  the 
misty  foliage  of  spring ;  a  light  haze  rests  over  the  vil- 
lage, the  blue  mountains,  and  the  sleeping  lake  in  the 
distance  ;  the  sky,  paler  around  the  horizon,  grows  deep 
blue  towards  the  zenith ;  and  a  few  fleecy  clouds  are 
floating  lazily  overhead.  Raphael  embodied  in  this 
picture  all  that  he  had  learned  of  subtle  expressiveness 
from  Lionardo,  and  of  symmetrical  composition  from 
Fra  Bartolommeo.  The  picture  is  suffused  with  the 
mysterious  air  of  thought ;  the  pyramid  of  the  three 
figures  is  perfect ;  yet  all  this  is  accomplished  with  such 
perfect  art  that  the  simplicity  of  the  picture  is  not  de- 
stroyed. The  young  mother  is  seated  on  a  little  hil- 
lock, dressed  so  modestly  that  one  forgets  to  notice  it. 


2i6  THE    CHRIST-CHILD    IN    ART 

Even  the  awkward  blue  mantle  which  Ghirlandajo 
added  to  the  painting  after  Raphael  had  left  it  un- 
finished, does  not  destroy  the  virginal  grace  of  her  fig- 
ure. She  has  been  reading  aloud  from  a  book,  and 
now  bends  her  pale  golden  head  towards  her  son,  who 
stands  at  her  knee.  The  little  St.  John  has  come  to 
ask  the  child  Jesus  to  play  with  him.  He  is  half- 
kneeling,  and  looking  at  Jesus  with  the  greatest  affec- 
tion, not  unmingled  with  that  strange  reverence  of 
which  children  are  singularly  capable  in  their  friend- 
ships, and  which  has  a  mystical  significance  in  St. 
John's  case  as  the  foreshadowing  of  his  subsequent  tes- 
timony  to  Jesus  as  the  Messiah.  But  Jesus  turns  from 
his  playmate.  He  stands  in  an  attitude  of  loveliest  con- 
fidence, with  one  of  his  feet  resting  on  the  bare  foot  of 
the  Virgin,  his  right  hand  pressed  against  her  knee  with 
a  caressing  motion,  his  left  hand  stretched  out  to  the 
book  in  her  lap,  looking  up  in  her  face  with  a  smile 
of  ineffable  trust  and  love,  as  if  He  would  say,  "  Let  us 
stay  with  you,  dear  mother,  and  hear  you  read  again." 
It  is  the  sense  of  a  beautiful  moment  that  Raphael  has 
preserved  for  us  with  that  sensitive  and  tranquil  art 
which  was  the  true  expression  of  his  soul — a  moment 
beautiful  with  all  that  is  most  fresh  and  bright  in  na- 
ture and  most  serene  in  mother-love — a  moment  beau- 
tiful because  it  is  transient,  passing  away  as  the  delicate 
charm  of  spring  is  lost  in  the  full  tide  of  summer,  yet 
woven  forever  into  the  character  and  growth  of  the 
Christ-child. 

Botticelli's  "  Madonna  and  Child,"  in  the  Louvre,  has 
another  sentiment  and  a  very  different  attractiveness. 


THE   CHILDHOOD    OF  JESUS  ^\^ 

Here  the  roses  are  in  full  bloom,  and  the  leaves  and 
flowers  are  clearly  outlined  at  the  top  of  the  dark  hedge 
against  the  brilliant  evening  sky.  It  is  twilight  also  in 
the  Virgin's  heart — the  hour  when  the  sweetness  of  the 
present  is  often  mingled  with  vague  apprehensions  of 
coming  sorrow — and  the  Virgin's  face  is  sad  and  droop- 
ing with  that  ineffable  melancholy  which  Botticelli 
understood  and  loved.  She  has  been  reading,  perhaps, 
in  the  book  which  now  lies  closed  before  her,  the 
prophecies  that  foretell  suffering  to  the  Messiah,  and 
she  feels  the  burden  of  her  mysterious  relation  to  Him. 
She  is  the  type  of  all  those  sadly  thoughtful  mother- 
hearts  who  know  that  the  deepest  love  means  the  possi- 
bihty  of  the  sharpest  anguish,  and  tremble  tenderly  for 
the  future  of  their  beloved.  But  the  Child  is  her  com- 
forter, as  so  many  a  child  has  soothed  away  the  silent 
troubles  and  anxieties  of  so  many  a  mother.  He  lifts 
his  face  to  hers  and  puts  his  hand  softly  in  her  neck, 
with  a  touch  which  seems  like  the  infantile  beginning 
of  his  great  ministry  of  consolation  to  the  weary  and 
heavy-laden. 

The  Holy  Family,  in  which  Mary  and  Joseph  with 
the  Child  form  the  invariable  elements  of  the  group, 
and  other  figures  (St.  John  the  Baptist;  St.  Anna,  the 
mother  of  the  Virgin ;  St.  Elizabeth,  her  cousin ;  and 
sometimes  Zebedee  and  Mary  Salome,  the  parents  of 
the  Apostle  John)  are  added  according  to  the  choice  of 
the  painter  or  his  patrons,  is  one  of  the  most  frequent 
subjects  in  Christian  Art.  It  has  been  painted  in  many 
different  keys  of  feeling,  from  the  dreamy  mysticism 
of   Perugino  to  the  joyous   naturalism  of  Andrea  del 


2i8  THE    CHRIST-CHILD   IN   ART 

Sarto  and  Guido  Romano,  in  whose  pictures  of  the 
bathing  of  Jesus  one  can  almost  hear  the  water  splash 
and  the  children  laugh. 

An  illustration  of  a  mode  of  treating  the  subject  in 
which  a  strong  element  of  realism  is  curiously  blended 
with  devotional  sentiment  so  churchly  as  to  make  the 
picture  almost  formal,  is  the  Holy  Family  by  Franz 
Defregger,  a  painter  of  this  century  who  has  won  great 
fame  in  Austria,  and  indeed  throughout  the  world,  by  his 
scenes  from  Tyrolese  peasant  life.  He  painted  this  pict- 
ure as  an  offering  of  love  for  the  village  church  at  Dol- 
sach  in  the  upper  valley  of  the  Drau,  where  he  was  born. 
I  climbed  up  to  see  it  one  summer  evening  after  a  day  of 
lonely  fishing  on  a  neighbouring  stream.  There  was  a 
festival  of  some  kind  in  progress ;  the  hamlet  was  full 
of  people  in  gala  dress ;  and  there  was  an  incessant 
firing  of  guns  and  cannon  from  the  shooting-range  on 
the  hill.  Entering  the  church,  I  found  it  crowded  to  the 
door  with  the  peasants,  and  resonant  with  their  simple, 
hearty  singing.  The  picture  hung  before  them  at  the 
left  of  the  chancel.  The  Virgin,  dressed  in  dark  crim- 
son with  a  white  scarf  over  her  head  and  shoulders,  was 
a  type  of  that  serious,  innocent,  noble  beauty  which  is 
often  seen  among  the  women  of  Norway  and  the  Tyrol. 
The  Child,  standing  on  her  knee  and  looking  out  with 
dark,  wondering  eyes,  was  a  village  child  idealized. 
Joseph,  a  strong  and  thoughtful  man,  plain  and  toil- 
worn,  pondering  over  an  ancient  book  of  prophecy, 
represented  the  humble  piety  of  a  peasantry  which  still 
remains  devout.  The  painting  was  in  fact  composed 
of  native  elements,  and  the  successful  artist  had  sent  it 


M'"-'^  "   ="^*'^*-  =~*^^ 


^mg^M^^^mmmmmEmmmm 


THE    CHILIl    JESUS    TAUOHT    1!V    HIS    MOTHER  — LUC    OLIVIER    MERSOr 


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THE    CHILDHOOD    OF  JESUS  221 

back  from  his  prosperous  life  in  Vienna,  in  a  spirit  of 
beautiful  loyalty,  to  bear  his  part  in  the  worship  of  the 
rustic  church  where  he  had  sung  and  prayed  as  a  boy. 

In  most  of  the  pictures  of  the  Holy  Family  we  find  a 
symbolical  motive  introduced.  When  Jesus  and  the 
young  St.  John  are  playing  with  a  lamb,  the  allusion  is 
to  St.  John's  later  testimony,  "  Behold  the  Lamb  of 
God,"  and  these  words  are  often  written  upon  a  scroll 
around  the  cross-handled  staff  which  he  carries.  When 
one  of  the  children  is  bringing  a  bird  to  the  other  it 
typifies  the  human  soul  led  by  St.  John  to  Christ.  The 
bath,  in  which  St.  John  pours  the  water  upon  Jesus,  is 
a  symbol  of  the  Baptism.  When  the  Holy  Family  are 
seated  under  a  vine  and  grapes  are  offered  to  the  Child, 
it  is  a  prophecy  of  the  saying,  "  I  am  the  vine."  The 
pomegranate  which  the  Child  sometimes  presents  to  his 
mother  is  the  emblem  of  hope,  and  the  other  fruits  with 
which  He  plays  are  typical  of  the  fruits  of  the  spirit, 
which  are  love,  joy,  peace.  But  frequently  the  symbol- 
ical purpose  of  the  picture  is  quite  lost  and  forgotten 
in  the  delight  which  the  painter  has  found  in  represent- 
ing an  actual  scene  from  the  domestic  life  of  Jesus. 

A  beautiful  illustration  of  this  is  Pinturicchio's  cir- 
cular panel  in  the  Academy  of  Fine  Arts  at  Sienna. 
The  picture  is  about  three  feet  in  diameter,  full  of 
elaborate  detail,  careful  drawing,  and  rich  colour ;  it  is 
a  gem  of  the  Umbrian  school  of  art  just  touched  with 
a  faint  suggestion  of  that  more  realistic  spirit  which 
distinguished  Pinturicchio  from  his  partner  Perugino. 
The  Virgin,  fair-haired  and  gracious,  is  seated  at  the  left, 
with  an  open  book  upon  her  knee,  and  her  right  hand 


222  THE   CHRIST-CHILD   IN   ART 

lifted,  beckoning.  Joseph,  a  man  of  thoughtful,  rugged 
face,  sits  beside  her,  holding  a  roll  of  bread  and  one  of 
those  little  flat  wine-casks  which  one  sees  so  often  in 
Italy.  These  are  intended  to  remind  us  that  he  was 
what  the  old-fashioned  New  England  housewives  call 
"a  good  provider,"  which  is  high  praise  for  a  husband. 
But  the  interest  of  the  picture  centres  in  the  two 
charming  children.  St.  John,  in  his  tunic  of  camel's 
hair,  carries  a  small  water-pitcher  in  his  hand.  Jesus, 
a  golden  -  haired  boy  of  about  four  years,  is  dressed  in 
a  robe  of  pure  white,  embroidered  on  the  bosom  with 
a  square  of  deep  blue,  like  the  high-priest's  breast- 
plate, and  carries  a  crimson  book  clasped  in  his  left 
hand.  The  right  is  thrust  through  the  arm  of  St.  John 
with  a  joyous  and  natural  gesture  of  companion- 
ship, and  we  can  almost  hear  the  Child  say,  "  Come, 
let  us  run  to  the  spring."  The  fountain  sparkles  from 
a  rock  near  by,  and  of  course  it  is  the  emblem  of  the 
water  of  life.  And  yet  I  think  the  real  charm  of  the 
picture  lies  in  the  merriment  of  the  two  children  run- 
ning so  light-heartedly  away  from  the  Virgin's  knee 
across  the  flower-besprinkled  grass,  as  if  their  expedi- 
tion were  a  fine  adventure. 

Another  very  significant  conception  of  the  Holy 
Family  is  that  in  which  the  education  of  the  Child 
is  the  central  thought.  In  these  pictures  the  Virgin 
Mary  is  usually  the  teacher.  Joseph  watches  them  in 
an  attitude  of  deep  reverence,  as  in  the  curiously 
strong  and  thoughtful  painting  by  Signorelli,  in  the 
Uffizi  at  Florence,  or  else  he  is  busy  with  his  carpen- 
ter-work   in    the    background,  as    in   the   pensive  and 


THE     HOLY     FAMILY  —  MURILLO 
A  part  of  the  painting  in  the  National  Gallery,  London 


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THE   CHILDHOOD   OF  JESUS  225 

graceful  sketch  by  Luc  Olivier  Merson.  The  truth  of 
these  pictures  lies  in  their  recognition  of  the  fact  that 
a  child's  earliest  knowledge  usually  comes  from  its 
mother.  She  teaches  the  alphabet,  not  only  of  life,  but 
also  of  learning.  The  Talmud  says,  "  An  understand- 
ing of  the  law  may  be  looked  for  in  those  who  have 
drawn  it  in  at  their  mother's  breast." 

But  have  we  indeed  remembered  all  the  influences 
which  entered  into  the  childhood  of  Christ  when  we 
have  spoken  of  parental  love  and  natural  pleasures  and 
youthful  playmates  and  earnest  studies  .f*  I  think  not. 
For  surely  there  is  something  higher  and  holier  than 
all  these  which  comes  into  the  child -life  silently  and 
invisibly,  consecrating  it,  and  making  it  breathe  of 
heaven.  It  is  of  this  that  Wordsworth  speaks  when 
he  says  to  a  child, 

"Thou  liest  in  Abraham's  bosom  all  the  year, 
And  worshipp'st  at  the  Temple's  inner  shrine, 
God  being  with  thee  when  we  know  it  not." 

It  is  this  that  is  bestowed  in  special  measure  upon 
the  gentlest  of  children,  so  that  they  become 

"  God's  apostles,  day  by  day 
Sent  forth  to  preach  of  love,  and  hope,  and  peace." 

It  is  this  that  the  gospel  tells  us  was  not  given  unto 
Christ  by  measure,  but  abundantly.  It  is  this  that  St. 
Luke  names  when  he  says  of  the  Holy  Child,  "  and  the 
grace  of  God  was  upon  him." 

Murillo's  famous  "  Holy  Family "  in  the  National 
Gallery  at  London  realizes  this  thought.     The  picture 


226  THE    CHRIST- CHILD    IN    ART 

is  in  his   latest   manner,  tender,  vapourous,  full  of  dif- 
fused  radiance,   like    the  dream   of   a  picture,  or  the 
picture   of   a  dream.      It   was    painted   when   Murillo 
was  an  old  man,  and  had  gone  down  to  Cadiz  to  die ; 
but  the  glory  of  immortal  youth  rests  upon  it.     The 
Child  Jesus  stands  upon  a  slight  eminence.     Mary  and 
Joseph  kneel  on  each  side  of  Him,  not  worshipping,  but 
with  looks  of  reverential  love  which  remind  us  that  all 
through  the  childhood  of  Christ  they  must  have  remem- 
bered the  wondrous  secret  of  the  divine  promise  con- 
cerning Him.     The  Child  looks  upward  with  a  happy 
face,  and  the  light  flows  around  Him  in  a  soft  flood. 
He  is   praying  without  words.      He  is  seeing  the  in- 
visible.    But  as  we  follow  his  glance,  we  see  above 
Him  in  the   picture   the  poising  wings  of  the  sacred 
Dove,  and  higher  still  the  venerable  face  which  paint- 
ers use  as  the  symbol  of  the  Almighty.     What  is  this, 
then,  but  a  formal  picture  of  the  Trinity,  in  which  the 
descending  Spirit  of  all  grace  is  the  connecting  link 
between  the  Father  and  the  Son  ?     Yes,  that  was  the 
old  painter's  theology,  and  it  is  mine.     But  when  words 
fail  to  interpret  the  mystery  of  it,  and  forms  and  colours 
do  but  dimly  shadow  its  meaning,  I  turn  the  eyes  of 
my  heart  towards  the  Christ-child,  who  holds  fast  to 
the  hands  of  human  love  and  acknowledges  its  claim 
upon  Him,  even  while    He  feels  that   He  came  forth 
from  God  and   the  sense  of  union  with  his  Heavenly 
Father  dawns  within   Him.     Here  is  the  solution   of 
the  secret,  not  in  words,  but  in  a  life  that,  though  it  is 
still  veiled  in  childish  weakness,  draws  God  down  to 
humanity  and  lifts  humanity  up  towards  God. 


THE    CHILDHOOD   OF  JESUS  227 


IV 


The  Finding  of  Christ  in  the  Temple  is  the  culmi- 
nation of  his  childhood.  If  our  reading  of  the  gospel 
story  thus  far  has  been  true,  we  must  interpret  this 
incident  in  harmony  with  it.  We  feel,  therefore,  that 
art  was  astray  in  its  earlier  reading  of  "  Christ  among 
the  Doctors."  All  the  artists,  from  the  time  when  they 
first  began  to  treat  the  subject,  which  was  certainly 
as  early  as  the  date  of  the  mosaics  in  Santa  Maria  Mag- 
giore  at  Rome,  placed  Jesus  in  an  elevated  position, 
and  represented  Him  as  instructing  the  Rabbis.  Thus 
in  Ghiberti's  wonderfully  spirited  relief  on  the  north- 
ern doors  of  the  Baptistery  at  Florence,  the  Child  is 
seated  upon  an  actual  throne,  while  the  doctors  are 
grouped  at  his  feet.  Taddeo  Gaddi,  in  his  fresco  in  the 
Lower  Church  at  Assisi,  has  the  doctors  symmetrically 
arranged  in  rows  facing  each  other,  six  on  each  side,  and 
the  Child  sits  in  the  centre,  with  a  roll  of  parchment  in 
his  left  hand,  and  his  right  solemnly  raised  as  if  com- 
manding silence.  A  painting  of  some  power,  by  Do- 
menico  Passignano,  in  the  Church  of  San  Francesco,  at 
Borgo  di  San  Sepolcro,  shows  a  group  of  four  large  fig- 
ures in  the  foreground;  one  old  man  leans  his  gray  head 
forward  as  if  listening  eagerly,  a  younger  man  with  an 
open  book  on  his  lap  bends  back  as  if  surprised,  while  a 
friend  standing  near  stoops  down  over  his  shoulder  and 
points  to  the  book,  bidding  him  "search  the  Script- 
ures." Beyond  these  men  are  quite  a  company  of  doc- 
tors, turning  over  their  books  as  if  puzzled,  and  a  con- 


228  THE   CHRIST- CHILD   IN    ART 

siderable  number  of  spectators.  The  Child,  dressed  in 
white  with  a  blue  robe,  stands  on  a  raised  dai's  in  front 
of  a  bishop's  chair,  and  lifts  his  hand  with  the  gesture 
of  an  orator. 

The  little  picture  by  Duccio  di  Boninsegna,  a  part  of 
the  famous  altar-piece  in  the  cathedral  at  Sienna,  illus- 
trates the  spirit  in  which  this  subject  was  treated  by  the 
old  masters.  Duccio  was  one  of  the  great  men  of  the 
thirteenth  century  who  awakened  art  in  Italy  after  its 
long  Byzantine  sleep.  He  is  worthy  of  a  place  near 
Giotto  in  the  history  of  painting,  for  though  his  works 
shared  the  limitations  of  his  age,  and  his  ignorance  of 
anatomy  and  perspective  hampered  his  powers  of  expres- 
sion, his  thought  was  deep  and  his  feeling  sincere,  and 
he  was  the  founder  of  the  important  Siennese  school, 
whose  joyous  and  secluded  course  culminated  in  the 
poetic  fertility  of  Sodoma.  This  panel  represents 
the  Christ -child  as  seated  in  solemn  dignity  on  a 
raised  platform  under  the  frescoed  arches  of  the 
Temple.  Below  Him  are  six  doctors  of  the  law,  two 
of  whom  are  pulling  at  their  gray  beards  in  perplexity, 
Joseph  and  Mary  have  just  entered  at  the  left,  and  are 
stretching  out  their  hands  in  wonder  and  calling  to  the 
Child.  It  is  all  very  reverent  and  unaffected  and  true  to 
the  painter's  idea;  but  this  idea  is  hardly  true  to  the 
gospel  narrative.  For  St.  Luke  makes  us  feel  that  jesus 
appeared  in  the  Temple  not  as  a  teacher  but  as  a  learn- 
er, one  who  was  preparing  for  his  life-work  by  coming 
into  close  contact  with  the  religious  life  of  the  people 
whom  He  was  to  deliver  from  the  yoke  of  the  law  and 
lead  into  the  true  rest  of  souls.     What  could  be  more 


CHRIST     AMONG     THE     DOCTORS DUCCIO 

From  the  panel  in  the  Opera  del  Duomo,  Sienna 


THE    CHILDHOOD    OF   jESUS  231 

natural  than  that  He  should  desire  to  learn  what  the 
masters  in  Israel  were  teaching  to  the  folk  ?  Was  it 
any  derogation  from  the  dignity  of  his  mission  that 
He  should  seek  them  and  question  them  eagerly  con- 
cerning their  doctrine  of  God  and  righteousness  and 
the  way  of  peace  ?  How  could  He  bring  new  life  and 
light,  a  better  doctrine,  a  purer  faith,  unless  He  had 
sounded  and  proved  the  emptiness  of  those  orthodox 
traditions  which  had  made  the  Divine  Word  of  none 
effect  in  Israel  ?  It  was  as  a  seeker,  a  questioner,  that 
He  tarried  among  the  doctors  in  the  Temple  precincts. 

But  questions  from  a  child  are  often  messages  from 
God.  And  questions  from  such  a  child  as  Jesus  must 
have  been  like  illuminations  piercing  through  the  dry 
and  flimsy  web  of  Rabbinic  subtleties.  It  was  at  this 
that  the  listeners  wondered,  not  with  the  hostile  surprise 
which  would  be  excited  by  the  sight  of  a  boy  of  twelve 
teaching  his  elders,  but  with  a  pleasant  wonder  at  the 
simplicity,  the  directness,  the  searching  intelligence  of 
his  inquiries,  and  the  discretion  of  his  replies. 

This  conception  of  "  Christ  among  the  Doctors  "  has 
been  expressed  in  modern  art  by  two  most  admirable 
pictures,  significant  in  the  deepest  sense  of  the  intense 
interest  which  the  best  minds  of  this  century  have  taken 
in  the  real  life  of  Christ.  One  of  them  is  Mr.  Holman 
Hunt's  brilliant  painting  of  "  The  Finding  of  the 
Saviour  in  the  Temple."  The  other  is  the  picture  by 
Prof.  Heinrich  Hofmann  at  Dresden.  It  is  not  entirely 
free  from  a  touch  of  academic  formality.  One  can  feel 
the  sense  of  effort  and  the  influence  of  conventional 
types   in   the  attempt  to   render  the  heads  of  a  stern 


232  THE    CHRIST-CHILD    IN   ART 

Pharisee,  a  scornful  Sadducee,  a  keen  philosopher,  a 
mild  old  Rabbi,  and  an  earnest  seeker  after  truth,  in  the 
five  men  who  are  grouped  around  the  young  Jesus. 
But  the  Divine  Child  is  a  supremely  lovely  figure. 
Clad  in  a  simple  white  tunic.  He  rests  one  hand  upon 
a  reader's  desk,  and  with  the  other  He  points  to  a  pas- 
sage in  the  open  book  as  if  asking  for  a  solution  of  its 
meaning  which  shall  reveal  its  living  power.  He  lifts 
his  dark,  luminous  eyes  to  the  face  of  one  of  the  doc- 
tors with  the  earnest,  searching  look  of  one  who  al- 
ready knows  that  the  word  of  God  is  the  food  of  the 
soul.  He  feels  that  He  is  in  his  Father's  House,  but 
He  is  there  as  a  child,  to  learn  his  Father's  will.  And 
it  is  in  this  spirit  that  He  goes  down  again  to  the  home 
in  Nazareth,  and  lives  there  in  subjection  to  his  par- 
ents, and  growing  in  favour  with  God  and  man. 


V 


There  is  surely  a  vital  truth  for  our  own  lives  to  be 
gathered  from  this  interpretation  of  the  childhood  of 
Jesus.  It  gives  us  a  deeper  sense  of  the  sacredness  and 
the  power  of  the  home. 

The  perfect  manhood  of  Him  whom  all  Christendom 
adores  as  the  Son  of  God  was  matured  and  moulded  in 
the  tender  shelter  of  the  home.  It  was  there  that  He 
felt  the  influences  of  truth  and  grace.  To  that  source 
we  may  trace  some  of  the  noblest  qualities  of  his  hu- 
man character.     And  yet,  if  there   is  anything  which 


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THE   CHILDHOOD   OF  JESUS  235 

Christendom  appears  to  be  in  danger  of  losing,  it  is  the 
possibility  of  such  a  home  as  that  in  which  Jesus  grew 
to  the  measure  of  the  stature  of  the  fulness  of  Christ. 
Is  it  not  true? 

"The  world  is  too  much  with  us,  late  and  soon, 
Getting  and  spending,  we  lay  waste  our  powers." 

The  false  and  cruel  conditions  of  industrial  competi- 
tion, and  the  morbid  overgrowth  of  great  cities  where 
human  lives  are  crowded  together  to  the  point  of 
physical  and  moral  suffocation,  have  raised  an  enor- 
mous barrier  between  great  masses  of  mankind  and 
the  home  which  their  natural  instincts  desire  and  seek. 
The  favoured  classes,  on  the  other  hand,  are  too  much 
alienated  by  false  standards  of  happiness,  by  the  mania 
of  publicity,  by  the  insane  rivalries  of  wealth,  to  keep 
their  reverence  for  the  pure  and  lovely  ideals  of  domes- 
tic life.  A  new  aristocracy  is,  formed  which  lives  in 
mammoth  hotels,  and  a  new  democracy  which  exists  in 
gigantic  tenements.  Public  amusements  increase  in 
splendour  and  frequency,  but  private  joys  grow  rare 
and  difficult,  and  even  the  capacity  for  them  seems  to 
be  withering,  at  least  in  the  two  extremes  of  human 
society  where  the  home  wears  a  vanishing  aspect. 

And  yet — so  runs  my  simple  and  grateful  creed — 
this  appearance  is  only  transient  and  superficial.  Deep 
in  the  heart  of  humanity  lies  the  domestic  passion, 
which  will  survive  the  mistakes  of  a  civilization  not  yet 
fully  enlightened,  and  prove  the  truth  of  the  saying: 
"  Before  the  fall,  Paradise  was  man  s  home ;  since  the 


236  THE    CHRIST- CHILD   IN    ART 

fall,  home  has  been  his  Paradise."  The  great  silent 
classes  of  mankind  who  stand  between  the  extremes, 
not  yet  spoiled  by  luxury  and  just  beginning  to  awake 
to  an  active  compassion  for  the  sorrows  of  the  homeless 
multitude,  cherish  the  ideal  of  the  home,  the  resting- 
place  of  love,  the  nursery  of  innocent  childhood,  the 
seed-plot  of  the  manly  virtues,  defended  even  in  the 
lowliest  cottage  against  all  rude  intrusions  and  desecrat- 
ing powers,  and  ruled  by 

"  Pure  religion,  breathing  household  laws."  ^ 

To  be  loyal  to  this  ideal,  to  realize  it  in  their  own  lives 
and  help  to  make  it  possible  for  others,  is  indeed  the 
noblest  and  the  most  useful  service  that  men  and 
women  can  render  to  the  age.  For,  after  all,  it  is  only 
from  such  quiet  and  holy  homes  as  that  in  which  the 
child  Jesus  lived  at  Nazareth  that  the  children  of  the 
future  can  come,  who  shall  feel,  as  manhood  dawns, 
that  they  must  be  about  their  Father's  business,  and 
follow  the  Christ,  the  King,  to  the  serene  and  bloodless 
triumph  of  his  kingdom  of  childlike  faith,  and  hope, 
and  love  for  all  mankind. 


THE    END 


y^ 


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