dragon, is presenting the end of the girdle to the rescued princess.

It appears to me an unpardonable mistake in point of sentiment when the princess is fleeing in terror, as in one of L. Caracci's finest pictures, where she appears in the foreground, and immediately commands attention.* Richardson praises the figure, and with justice: he says, “The lady, that flies in a fright, has the most noble and gentile attitude imaginable. She is dressed all in white, she runs away, her back is towards you, but her head, turning over her shoulder, shows a profile exquisitely beautiful, and with a fine expression." Fine expression of what? of fear? It shocks our better judgment. The noble princess of the legend, who was ready to die for her people, and who entreated St. George to leave her rather than expose his life, was not likely to fly when he was combating for her sake; she puts up prayers for her deliverer, and abides the issue. So Spenser's Una, the Cleodolinda of the legend:

"With folded hands, and knees full lowly bent,
All night did watch, ne once adowne would lay
Her dainty limbs in her sad drearyment,

But praying, still did wake, and waking did lament."

And thus the ancient painters, with a true and elevated feeling, uniformly represent her.

Richardson, in his praise of this picture by Ludovico, which he calls a "miraculous picture," seems to have forgotten the principle he has himself laid down, with excellent taste, though the expression be somewhat homely. If the workmanship be never so exquisite, if the pencil or chisel be in the utmost degree fine; and the idea of the persons or things represented is low, or disagreeable; the work may be excellent, but the picture or sculpture is in the main contemptible, or of

*In the cloisters of the San Michele-in-Bosco, at Bologna, now nearly defaced; but the frescos, once celebrated, are well known through engravings.

little worth. Whereas, on the other hand, let the ideas we receive be great and noble, 't is comparatively of no importance whether the work is rough or delicate."

The devotional figures of the armed St. George, with his foot on the dragon, resemble in sentiment and significance the figures of St. Michael: where they are represented together, the wings or the balance distinguish the archangel; the palm, the martyr. There are other military saints who have also the dragon, from whom it is less easy to distinguish St. George. St. Theodore of Heraclea and St. Longinus have both this attribute. The reader will find in the legends of these saints the points which distinguish them.

It must be observed that the dragon in the myth of St. George never has the human or satanic lineaments, as in the legends of St. Michael; nor do I know of any instance in which the usual dragon-type, such as we see it in all the effigies of the conquering St. George, has been departed from: the gigantic crocodile head; the brazen scales, that, when he moved, were as "the clashing of an armor bright"; the enormous wings, "like unto sails in which the hollow wind is gathered full "; the voluminous tail, terminating in a sting; and the iron teeth and claws; compose the "dreadful beast," which is a beast, and nothing more.

Pictures from the life of St. George as a series occur very seldom. I believe that the reason may be found in the rejection of his legend from the office of the Church of Rome as early as the sixth century, he being placed by Pope Gelasius in the number of those saints "whose names and whose virtues were rightly adored by men, but whose actions were known only to God." This has not prevented his legend from being one of the most popular in those European story-books where he figures as one of the Seven Champions of Christendom.

There is a series of early frescos in the chapel of San Giorgio at Padua, painted, as it is supposed, by

the school of Giotto, principally by Jacopo Avanzi and Altichieri. They are arranged in the following order:

1. The combat with the dragon; the city is seen in the background, with the walls crowded with spectators.

2. The baptism of the king, the queen, the princess, and all the court. The scene is the interior of the church, which, according to the legend, was built by the command of St. George, after the conquest of the dragon the king is kneeling at the font, holding his crown in his hand; St. George is pouring water upon his head from a vase: the saint is not here in armor, but wears a white tunic, with the pointed shoes and spurs of a cavalier of the fourteenth century. The queen and princess kneel behind the king.

The four frescos in the lower range represent the martyrdom of the saint. 1. St. George, habited in a long loose mantle, drinks off the poison presented by the magician, who looks on with surprise. 2. St. George stretched on the wheel, which is destroyed by angels. 3. The fall of the temple of Apollo at the prayer of St. George, who is kneeling in front. 4. St. George is beheaded outside the city: the executioner stands beside him with his sword raised; the saint kneels with his hands joined, and with a mild, resigned expression. In all these compositions St. George is represented bearded, as a man in the prime of life, and not as a youth.

The history of St. George as patron of Venice, as victor, not as martyr, has been painted by Vittore Carpaccio in three beautiful pictures: 1. The combat with the dragon. 2. He is received by the king and people in triumph. 3. The conversion and baptism of the king and his court: the most conspicuous figure is that of the princess, who, with her long golden hair flowing over her shoulders, her hands joined, and with a most lovely expression, kneels to receive baptism from her pious and chivalrous deliverer.*

* Venice. Church of S. Giorgio de' Schiavoni.

Of the martyrdom of St. George, as a separate subject, there are several fine examples, but I do not know any of very early date. The leading idea is in all the same: he kneels, and an executioner prepares to strike off his head with a sword. In the church of San Giorgio, at Verona, I saw over the high altar this subject by Paul Veronese, treated in his usual gorgeous style: St. George, stripped to the waist, kneels to receive the blow; a monk stands at his side (we are left to wonder how he got there); the Virgin in glory, with St. Peter and St. Paul, and a host of angels, appear in the opening heavens above.* The composition by Rubens, painted for the chapel of St. George de Lière near Antwerp, is very fine and full of character. the composition of Vandyck, he is represented as sacrificed to an idol. The drawing is, I think, in the collection of Sir Robert Peel.

In

St. George and the dragon, and his martyrdom, are the usual subjects in the many churches dedicated to this saint.

His church at Rome, at the foot of the Palatine, called, from its situation, San Giorgio-in-Velabro, was built by Leo II. in 682. In a casket under the altar is preserved, as a precious relic, a fragment of his banner; and on the vault of the apsis is an ancient painting, the copy of a more ancient mosaic, which once existed there. In the centre stands the Redeemer between the Virgin and St. Peter; on one side, St. George on horseback, with his palm as martyr, and his standard as the "Red-Cross Knight"; on the other side, St. Sebastian standing, bearded, and with one long arrow.

From the time that these two saints were

united in the popular fancy as martyrs and warriors, they are most frequently found in companionship, particularly in the Italian works of art. In the French

* In the same church is a series of pictures from the martyrdom of the tutelar saint, copiosissimi di figure delle più varie, delle più spiritose, delle più terribili ne' carnefici che mai vedessi. Lanzi, iii. p. 110.

pictures and Gothic sculpture, St. George does not often appear, and then usually in companionship with St. Maurice or St. Victor, who are likewise military saints. In the German pictures he is often accompanied by St. Florian.

ST. SEBASTIAN.

Lat. Sanctus Sebastianus. Ital. San Sebastiano; or San Bastiano. Fr. St. Sébastien. Patron saint against plague and pestilence. January 20, A. D. 288.

THE story of St. Sebastian is of great beauty and great antiquity; it has also the rare merit of being better authenticated in the leading incidents, and less mixed up with incredible and fictitious matter, than most of the antique legends.

He was a native of Narbonne, in Gaul, the son of noble parents, who had held high offices in the empire. He was himself at an early age promoted to the command of a company in the Prætorian Guards, so that he was always near the person of the emperor, and held in especial favor. At this time he was secretly a Christian, but his faith only rendered him more loyal to his masters; more faithful in all his engagements; more mild, more charitable; while his favor with his prince, and his popularity with the troops, enabled him to protect those who were persecuted for Christ's sake, and to convert many to the truth.

Among his friends were two young men of noble family, soldiers like himself; their names were Marcus and Marcellinus. Being convicted of being Christians, they were condemned to the torture, which they endured with unshaken firmness, and were afterwards led forth to death; but their aged father and mother threw themselves in the way, and their wives and children gathered around them, beseeching them with tears and supplications to recant, and save themselves, even for the sake of those who loved and could not survive