IV.

THE SON OF MAN.

UT if the Supernatural in Art finds its most

BUT

tender expression when associated with our daily life, it is when it appears in the beautiful garments of religious symbol that it assumes its supreme splendour, and at the same time that it incurs the extremest risk.

So long as Art is true to its legitimate purpose, the setting forth of the glory of the creation, so long its association with a true religion cannot but purify and strengthen and elevate-purging it from its contact with evil, strengthening it with the passion of human life, lifting it to the contemplation of the life Divine.

But the moment that Art ceases to reflect, and assumes to partake of the Divine nature-it dies. Arrayed in royal robes it may be-but it dies. Sitting upon a throne it may be-but it dies. It dies as Herod died, even while the people are yet shouting that it is a god.

How indeed could it be otherwise? It is impossible

at the same time to recognise the true glory of a work of Art, and to attribute to it a Supernatural origin. That which is a representation cannot be also the thing itself. The antique statues which we so highly prize as works of Art were made to adorn the temples of the gods; but they were not worshipped. It is not in the study of High Art that men become idolaters. It was just when Greek Art culminated in these beautiful statues that Socrates was leading his disciples to think of the higher life and of the spiritual nature of the Divine Being. It was just when Raphael and Correggio and Da Vinci were filling the world once more with beauty that the Reformation burst forth in Europe. And it is just in those countries where there are living Schools of Art that Art is least used for superstitious purposes.

In the days of Phidias, as in the days of Angelo, men knew very well whence their statues came-from the studios of their artists. Art was already in its decadence when the images became seized with the strange habit of falling down from heaven. Whether this decadence led to, or was the result of a superstitious use of Art, is another question; but it is of vital moment to the lovers of Art to know that Superstition and High Art cannot exist together. Either the Art must become so debased that there shall be no glory in it for the Artist to inherit, or the people

must become so brutish that they cannot recognise the hand of a genius. Where is the image of the great goddess Diana of the Ephesians, for whom Demetrius made silver shrines ?-an image so monstrously deformed that we should hesitate to place it even in a museum ? Or take the Black Virgin of Ypres, of

Did they?

There

which I have given a sketch in the margin, to which pilgrimages are made from all parts of the world. Strip it of its jewelled vestments and its crown, and what shall you see? These are the images which men worship but works of High Art, never! These are the statues which fell down from heaven! If so, it is a matter for grave wonder that the sculptors up there were not better skilled in their craft. is no artist among men who would acknowledge them as his work. They must have been cast out because they were so ugly. But is there in the wide world an example of a master-piece in Art to which any supernatural virtue is ascribed? I know of none. And yet it is not that Art cannot, or ought not, to touch such. themes. There are pictures of the Blessed Mother so pure, so tender, so exalted, that we cannot worship them we cannot, because they are true-true, that is, to our highest conception of womanhood. These paintings work no miracles; to them no prayer is made; in their honour no sacred rites are performed; . we can only look upon them, and thank God that such men as Raphael and Angelo have lived to paint them.

But as Art cannot suffer from its contact with true Religion, so Religion cannot be blasphemed by true Art. And yet what strange distinctions have been drawn, by the scholastic theology which too often

usurps the place of real religion, with regard to the use of Art for religious purposes. For example, the Latin Church sanctions the use of images and pictures; while the Greek Church condemns the image as an idol, but carries the picture in solemn procession. A nice distinction this, and one that to simple minds seems something like the splitting of straws. But let us look at home. We flatter ourselves that we have cleansed the temple of God because we have cast out both statuary and painting. But is it so? Are these the only forms in which Art can give a false presentment of the Divine Being? I think not. A danger lies before us also, I will not say greater than that against which we rightly guard, but a danger all the more real because we take no heed of it at all.

I refer to the freedom with which the Poet does that which is forbidden to the Painter or the Sculptor. The Sculptor is not to bring his crucifix into our churches, although it is a simple record of a fact. The Painter is not to show us the Master walking upon the waters, though the waves be painted from the Lake of Galilee, and the face from the real likeness of the Master Himself. But the Poet-yes! He may picture for us a Being clothed with what he conceives to be the attributes of God, and casting it into verse-not a picture, not an image, that were idolatry—but into the form of