ject of anxious thought, careful preparation, and, let it be added, in all candour, of much fervent prayer. Outwardly, at least, his labours had been crowned with signal success; his classes for instruction had been largely attended-from all parts of the scattered parish many had presented themselves as candidates for the sacred rite. The parishioners, young and old, anticipated the event with eager interest, and the day had, by general consent, been set apart as a holiday, while by many it was invested with all the sanctity of the most hallowed season.

CHAPTER II.

Let us enter the church, and as the congregation are assembling, and the various candidates for confirmation are taking their allotted places take a hasty glance round. There is, certainly, little to give us the idea of a Protestant sanctuary. A "dim, religious light," is all that even on this bright summer's day can find an entrance through the stained-glass windows, and it gained little from the tall candles which stood on the altar and had just been lighted. The altar itself, with its gorgeous cloth emblazoned with countless crosses, with the credence table on its south side, was after the most approved ecclesiastical pattern. Behind it was a picture of the Annunciation, in which the painter had employed all his art to glorify the virgin mother. The general cha

racter of the place might deceive a stranger into the idea that he had strayed into a place of Popish worship, and lead hm to look for the tinkling of the bell, the appearance of the priests, the odours of the incense, and those various rites in connection with the elevation of the host, which to the uninitiated seemed nothing better than mummeries. And in truth the scene which pre

sently meets the eye as heralded by the white-robed choristers a long train of clergymen precede their bishop to the altar, is not of a very different character. No

thing is wanting that can add pomp and circumstance" to the ceremonial. Each clergyman as he approaches the altar bows in prostrate reverence, and as he takes his part in the service, turns his back on the congregation, and not unfrequently the watchful eye may detect some of these Protestant ministers crossing themselves with a fervour not often witnessed even in the cathedrals of the continent.

We do not care to linger over a description of the ceremony itself, but we cannot omit a notice of the remarkable prelate by whom it was conducted. He was yet in the prime of life and mental power, and though not having that venerable aspect which we associate with his order, yet there was that in his whole appearance which could not fail to impress a spectator. His forehead was high and intellectual, his eye keen and piercing, his mouth told of a firm will and resolute purpose, his expression was not devoid of gentleness, but there was in it, too, a strength that bordered on sternness, while his dignified bearing marked a man born to rule. By the confession both of friend and foe he had no superior on the episcopal bench. A subtle thinker, a finished orator, an indefatigable worker, an able administrator, an unflinching defender of the rights and privileges of the Church, he adorned the exalted position which he had won. Jealousy, indeed, might attribute his success to the somewhat tortuous policy which he had pursued; with more justice might it be ascribed to the friendship of the illustrious statesman from whom he had received the mitre; but a candid man would not deny that by his eminent talents and great services to the Church he had well deserved the

be placed where its purpose would probably be perceived. At any rate, its circumstances would materially assist its interpretation. Addressed, as most of Raphael's other works were, to the mind rather than to the eye, and requiring, even more than his cartoons, that spectators should not only be in possession of the facts of Christianity, but actually feeling its spirit and power, it began thus, more than 300 years ago, to tell its tale.

Hardly finished at the time of his sudden death, the picture was hung immediately above the head of the painter, as his body lay in state in the room where he had been in the habit of working. The hidden unity of its twofold division would be thus likely to be revealed to the faithful. They would be looking at the picture in a double light. They They would read it by the light of their sorrow over the death of this world, and by the light of their hope of the life of the world to come. Its spiritual idea would dawn upon them. Their very circumstances would be suggestive of that mysterious fact which it attempts to representdeliverance from evil by a divine Redeemer.

our

In reading a book or a picture, we find that much of the impression we receive depends upon ourselves. Those authors who appeal to our imagination suppose that we shall meet them half-way in their conception; and it is peculiar to the confidence of genius to trust spectators and readers in this manner.

Other

artists, correct and careful to a fault, betray their inferiority by the elaborate and distressing pains they take lest they should be misunderstood. Raphael credited his readers with having eyes to see and hearts to understand; and doubtless the picture appeared to many of its first spectators what it really was-a reprint of one of the many pages in the long history of human redemption.

"The Transfiguration," through

the many copies which have been carefully made, and the genius and number of the engravings, is almost, if not quite, as well and as widely known as the cartoons. Our readers will therefore find no difficulty in following our exposition and testing its truth. The bare mention of the picture will be sufficient to recal the vision, where our Lord is floating in the air, accompanied by Moses and Elias-Peter, James, and John lying on the ground, unable to stand in the presence of God - the nine apostles beneath the mountain, discomfited by their failure, two of whom, by pointing to the Saviour, seem to connect the lower with the upper scene, and to hint at the unity of the double action-and the crowd on the other side accompanying the father, who holds his demoniac boy. Some of our readers, doubtless, will have seen the original in the Vatican. Others, like ourselves, as they have passed out of the Cartoon Gallery at Hampton Court, will have stopped in the little ante-room, badly lighted as it is, and have studied the clever copy in chalk by Casanova. The humblest print will be found to be sufficient by those who can see. The original itself could not explain its meaning to the blind.

We are indebted for this picture, as, indeed, we are for many others which are spiritual interpretations of Holy Writ, to the Catholic Church. The Cardinal de Medicis, afterwards Pope Clement VII., availing himself of the jealousy with which Michael Angelo is supposed to have regarded the popularity of Raphael, gave to Sebastiano, who was in league with Michael Angelo, a commission to paint "The Raising of Lazarus." At the same time, he charged Raphael with the execution of "The Transfiguration." "The Raising of Lazarus" is now in our National Gallery.

The two pictures were probably painted in the spirit of rivalry, and they were exhibited together after

the death of Raphael, in the Hall of the Consistory. There is between them all the difference of talent and genius. The one is evidently tainted with the vice of competition, having that peculiar look which ever betrays the prize essay"; the other, while touched by the evil spirit, has been saved by genius from its powers. The Cardinal, by sending the work of Sebastiano to his bishopric of Narbonne (the original destination of Raphael's picture), and by keeping "The Transfiguration " at Rome, seems to have plainly indicated his preference.

The small church of San Pietro, in Montario, a little way out of Rome, commanding a fine prospect of the city, held our picture for some 250 years. The younger Richardson thus describes it, as he saw it 150 years ago:

"The church is very dark, the best light coming in at the door, very disadvantageous to the pictures. Over the high altar is the famous 'Transfiguration.' 'Tis painted on board, or rather on timber, being, as I remember, at least a foot thick.* The largeness may be judged of, the figures being as big as the life. "Tis in an old frame, probably the same it had at first, and is about ten or twelve feet from the floor. I have considered it very attentively, near and at a distance. The tout ensemble is not extremely agreeable; the two principal actions and lights are really choquing, much more than in any prints of it that I have seen.

The

shadows are all alike, and in the same degree turned black; and, in fine, the picture gives no pleasure till one comes to look into the parts nearly. Then one sees what 'tis that has made it so universally admired, for besides that at first, and before the

*Richardson is mistaken about the thickness of the panel. It consists of five boards four inches thick. It is said by those who have seen the picture lately that, notwithstanding the thickness of the boards, they have become warped, being slightly convex in front.

shadows were changed, there was a greater variety of tints that delighted the eye, and delivered it pleasantly from one to another; whereas now that all the shadows are alike black-the flesh, the reds, the greens, the blues, &c.-which, instead of proper masses and reposes, are spots, and those not in beautiful shapes neither;-I say besides all this, the contours are more open and elegant, and the airs of the heads are more sublime and expressive than in any other of his works here. 'Tis painted in oil in the manner of that time, throughly wrought, and (tho' not to the degree as in some smaller pictures) the hair and other particulars are done with the point of the pencil."

The picture must have been in a wretched state when it was carried to Paris by the French in 1797, after they had rifled Italy during the wars of the Revolution. In the interval of its stay in Paris it was most successfully cleaned; and at the peace in 1815, it was restored and placed in the small but valuable collection of paintings in the Vatican.

"The Transfiguration," while characterised by the exquisite finish of Raphael, is distinguished from his other works in oil by a broader treatment. The light and shade are managed with an effect rarely seen from his hand. An instance in point (not to mention the magnificent contrast of the upper and lower parts of the picture) will be the woman who is kneeling on the left of the demoniac. Her figure detaches itself from the ground by the strong light cutting the shadow, and this effect is strengthened in the original by the warmth of the light coming into contact with the coldness of the dark-blue mantle.

the perspective better understood, the pencilling finer, and there is a greater variety in the drapery, more grace in the heads, and more grandeur in the style." It is this characteristic combination of the greatest number of the highest merits peculiar to painting, which has placed Raphael at the head of his art, and which has led this work to be regarded as his chef d'œuvre.

It would, however, be idle in us, even were we fortunate enough to be in the presence of the original, to spend much of our time in the discussion of topics which belong rather to antiquarians, connoisseurs, or the profession. Any member, almost, of either of these guilds will be ready to satisfy us, if we are curious about the letter of the picture. Our work lies rather with its spirit. We can quite understand that it would be possible to detect the hand of Julio Romano, say in the garments of the father of the demoniac and in the plants at his feet. We might listen, but without much edification, to some one learned in pigments, and accept, without understanding it, his theory respecting the black and faded colours. We might be led to regret that we were not amongst its first spectators, but that we were born to see it after most of the glory of its earthly beauty had departed. We might in these and in many other ways lose our opportunity.

It is rather with the idea of the picture that we, as laymen, have to

do; and we hope that we shall not only be able to show that the picture is an embodiment of a spiritual truth, but that, although it is decayed and waxed old and ready to vanish away, its eye is not dim, nor its natural force abated.

In giving utterance to what we see we shall not speak with bated breath. Well aware that we may be sometimes under an illusion as to certain effects of Raphael's pictures, and be ready to attribute to. him intentions of which he was unconscious, we shall treat "The Transfiguration" as a work of genius. Any fear that might arise of our appearing to be wise above what is written here, will be allayed by the recollection of the strange suggestiveness which has ever been found to characterise the works of those who have been entrusted with this high endowment. Men of genius, more correctly than some may imagine, have often been spoken of as being moved by a kind of inspiration. It is, for instance, in this way that Raphael has received the appellation of divine." It is this extraordinary gift which separates, as by an impassable gulph, those to whose lot this awful portion has fallen from the mere men of talent. It is this which accounts for the difference in artists. It is this which makes the spiritual pictures of the great masters so precious and profitable to spiritual men. The great masters have been found to be great divines.

THIS old library has been the favourite room with me ever since I have been an intimate at the Grange. The place has been for generations the home of scholars. I, who have the present enjoyment

of its quaint pleasantness, and the use of its venerable treasures, do not reckon myself with them. As I am neither the owner nor an official here, so, too, am I neither a scholar nor even a student. I am