the truest and the noblest ally any government can have, and the best friend Italy has known in the past, or can know in the future. But, we confess, we see no reason whatever to hope that the present rulers of Italy will ever willingiy consent to even a partial restoration of territory to the Holy See. They are the Revolution, godless and anti-Christian, and the ruin of their country would be a lesser evil in their eyes than reconciliation with the Church.

How long the present state of things in Italy is likely to endure, nobody can now foresee. Nevertheless, the intimate connection between the temporal power and the freedom of the Church bids us hope for its speedy termination. In his letter of March 26th, 1860, Pius IX. says: "The Catholic Church, founded and instituted by Christ, for the eternal salvation of men, being a perfect society, in virtue of her institutions, must enjoy such freedom as that, in the exercise of her sacred ministry, she may not be subject to any civil power. And as, in order to labor with that necessary freedom, she stands in need of certain privileges and prerogatives, corresponding to the conditions and requirements of the times, Divine Providence, with singular wisdom, disposed that, after the fall of the Roman Empire and its division into several kingdoms, the Roman Pontiff, made by Christ the head and centre of the universal Church, should obtain a temporal principality. In this way, it was wisely arranged by God himself that, amongst the multitude and variety of secular princes, the Supreme Pontiff should enjoy that political independence so necessary to him, in order that he may exercise, throughout the entire world, and without let or hindrance, his spiritual power and jurisdiction. It is easy to understand, therefore, how this principality of the Roman Church, although of its own nature merely temporal, in virtue of its sacred destiny and its being so closely bound up with the supreme interests of Christianity, is invested with a character altogether sacred."

"We recognize," said the four hundred bishops assembled in Rome in 1862, "the civil principality of the Holy See as a necessary appurtenance, and manifestly instituted by the providence of God. Nor do we hesitate to declare that this same civil principality, in the present condition of human affairs, is absolutely requisite for the adequate and free government of the Church and souls. Undoubtedly it behooveth that the Roman Pontiff, head of the universal Church, should not be the subject of any prince, or the guest of any, but, seated on his own throne, in his own kingdom, he should, from his very position, be perfectly free to defend the Catholic faith, and rule and govern the entire Christian republic.

. . And, indeed, how could the pastors of the Church, with any security, come together here from all parts of the globe to treat with your Holiness on matters of the gravest importance, if

there were in this city, and in these states, a ruler who might be jealous of their principles, or be himself suspected by, or hostile to, them?"

Such being the necessity of the temporal independence of the Holy See, we must, unless some extraordinary trial be in store for the Church, hope for its restoration, at no distant day, by means we do not now foresee.

The present position of the Pope is nothing new in history. His predecessors have often been honored by the enmity of more formidable tyrants than the actual rulers of Italy. More than fifty times have the Popes been deprived, in whole or in part, of their temporal domain. More often still have they had to take the road to exile from their capital. For seventy years they lived at Avignon, in France. Their absence was always disastrous to Rome, and to Italy; their return, an occasion for hope and joy to their people. And they did always return. Their enemies were humbled and chastised, but they triumphed. Adolph Thiers once said: "Whoever eats of the Pope, dies of it." The history of the Church attests the truth of this. Among those who, in recent times, meddled with the Patrimony of St. Peter, was Napoleon I. He annexed the States of the Church to his empire, and soon after signed his abdication, in the very palace of Fontainebleau where he had imprisoned

Pius VII.

And then came Elba, Waterloo, and St. Helena. His

son, Napoleon II., was proclaimed King of Rome, but he did not live to wear a crown. Napoleon III. plotted with Cavour to despoil Pius IX., his benefactor and the godfather of his child, of his provinces, and immediately afterwards went to Sedan, Wilhelmshöhe and Chiselhurst, and his son, the scion of a military dynasty, was slaughtered by naked savages in southern Africa.

northern

Cavour

was cut off in the middle of his ambitious career, and

Victor Emmanuel and many others who took part in the spoliation of the last-named Pontiff, met with sudden and unprovided

deaths.

hear."

And what has been, will be. "The hand of the Lord is not shortened that it cannot save, neither is his ear heavy that it cannot He will know how to defend His Church and humble her "What God's will is," wrote Louis Veuillot, “we all It is what He has always willed, and still wishes, the advancement, the greatness, and glory of His holy and immortal

enemies.

know.

Church. Where Bismarck reigns at present, Henry IV. reigned. before; and he set up an anti-Pope, and continued the fight, and thought himself the victor. Gregory VII. died at Salerno, in exile, and courtiers of the emperor were heard to say: 'Hildebrand is the last of his race.' But the emperor died, too, and Hildebrand was resuscitated. How many persecutors of the Church have

VOL. XI.-14

died!-how many Popes have been resuscitated! Shed blood,

Decree that good is evil, Christianity is not.

then, make bad laws, enroll soldiers. and evil good. You are but mortal. Christians are endowed with divine obstinacy; they will resist you, they will use you, they will bury you. They will bury your great statesmen, your victorious generals, your powerful writers. You may reduce the world to ruins, they will continue to live. They will rise out of the ashes, and the heap of ruins you have accumulated will serve for your tomb. The earth laid waste by you will always furnish enough of wood to make a cross, and a spot whereon to plant it. In spite of yourselves, you will have the honor-though you deem it an affront-of bearing aloft the standard of Him that liveth."

R

ART AND ARTISTS.

GIORGIO VASARI.

ICHES and art go hand in hand. As a land waxes fat, art flourishes: if not true art, then some more or less skilful

pretender.

We have been growing rich, and it is evident that art, or some pretender, has settled among us. The Museum of Art, with its pretentious, and not too artistic, exterior, is as much a feature of every self-respecting city as the Opera House or the Soldiers' Monument. We have a saion every day of the year at the art dealers, while the Academy, the Black and White Association, the Rejected, the Etchers' Club, the Water Color Society, give us salon after salon as the seasons chase each other. There is, too, the loan-collection at the club, or the kirmess; the private view at the palace of the railway prince or the coal-oil potentate, and the very public view at the ever-recurring auction sale of the last bankrupted financier. Every daily paper has an art column, the work of an art reporter, if not of a real art critic; and there are many weeklies whose whole subject is art. Our magazines give us clever wood-cuts, after the best old and new masters, with interesting articles about famous painters and famed paintings. The best English, French, and German art periodicals have special agencies in our large cities: we read the "Gazette des Beaux Arts," "L'Art,"

"The Portfolio," or, if these be above our means, the "Art Journal," or the "Magazine of Art." From English and American publishers there is a constant supply of "Art Primers," "Lives of Great Artists," "Wonders of Painting." In our schools the art teaching is so general and so thorough that boys and girls think nothing of throwing off a design for a wall paper between tea and bed time. More than one of our colleges support an "Art School," and a permanent exhibition; and in no well-regulated young ladies' academy is the curriculum looked upon as complete without the "Lectures on Art" to advanced pupils.

Certainly, all this shows a kind of interest in matters of art and

in artists.

This interest is in itself desirable. Without it we can

know little of art; but with it one may not know much. Under the influence of fashion it is easily acquired or affected. Of itself it does not give knowledge, nor does it make taste; and without knowledge and taste there can be no real appreciation of what art. is, of its objects, limitations, methods. Nor can the mere looking at paintings, sculptures, or prints, the skimming over of art periodicals, the reading of primers, or of illustrated "Lives," the designing of wall papers, nor even the listening to six lectures in a twelvemonth, on Ancient and Modern Art," supply any one with the means necessary to an intelligent understanding of that most delightful, instructive, elevating, inspiring, refining thing, Art.

line and

we, who

The painter, who follows a long and severe course of study in color, will in time learn certain principles of beauty. Practice of hand and eye will force these principles on him. But do not draw or paint, how are we to acquire these principles? Not by intuition, surely; nor by revelation. The patient student who has acquired them, is he, therefore, an artist? By no means. As, then, the student, who by practice has acquired much that it is necessary to know, may still be far from having the knowl

edge and

view of art without which one cannot be an artist, so

we, who know so much less, cannot rapidly gain from the picture gallery and the primer what will make us, not judges of art, but even true lovers of art. All works of art are things of the mind, of the soul-not merely things of the hand. The most skilful manipulator of the brush, the most cunning combiner of colors, cannot create a great painting: he may paint a pretty picture. It is intelligence and feeling that make the artist. Being a thing of the soul, then, art must be an intelligent thing, a thing of laws. What are these laws? The primer does not tell us, nor can we elaborate them from the salon. If we try to do this, we are as like to learn lawlessness as law; for, to hang asmuch, therefore, as we do not draw or paint, we are shut out

One cannot love what one does not know.

on an exhibition-wall is not to be a work of art. In

from a certain art knowledge. Can we acquire this knowledge? Yes, to some extent. We may gather it, in part, from the artist, speaking, or writing; we may round our knowledge by continued and careful observation. And the laws of art? These, too, we may learn by reading and observation; but, above all, by thought. Law is a matter of reason; wherefore, we must reason, and reason closely, if we wish thoroughly to know the laws of art.

Formally to reason about what seems such a wholly pleasurable thing as art, would not be attractive to many minds, least of all to immature minds. The method would repel some and confuse others. Before one has done with it, the thin duodecimo volume on æsthetics outweighs an elephantine folio. How, moreover, are we to be certain that our teacher is not misleading us? For, to write on æsthetics no more implies sound principles than does painting a picture imply artistic knowledge or power.

The history of art is the story of the development of the principles and practice of art. This story is the more interesting, and the more useful, inasmuch as it is a connected record of the thoughts, sayings, and doings of the men who successively have aided in developing art. To read the history of art is to follow art from its first weak growth up to its blooming-time, and again down through its sad decay. From naïveté, ignorance, and ugliness, we see it develop simplicity, knowledge, beauty. We see how this was effected: we have learned what art is. There is no more certain way.

Now, a skilful historian may teach us much in a large and general manner, sacrificing many a charming detail, eliminating many an interesting personage. It may be that we shall have enough; it were better if we had more. This more we can get from biography. A well-written, careful story of the life of a great artist gives us a deep insight into art itself. We see not only the artist. and his work, we see the work being done; the aims of a great artistic mind, the outside training, the self-education, the method of that mind; the surroundings, trials, obstacles, successes, aiding or impeding the development of that mind;—what are a thousand salons to this one story in fitting us to know and appreciate art?

The best help to a knowledge of art, to judgment in art, would surely be a history of art, wherein, tracing its rise and development, we should learn its principles and practice; see them unfold themselves before us; and, at the same time, become intimately acquainted with great artists. With such a history we would start aright in our story of art, or our play with it; if we had already started, and started wrong, we could the more quickly retrace our steps, and strike the right path. Giotto, Angelico, the Frate, Leonardo, Raphael would no longer be mere names to us, but living, speaking teachers.