We find the Annunciation, like many other scriptural incidents, treated in two ways—­as a mystery, and as an event.  Taken in the former sense, it became the expressive symbol of a momentous article of faith, The Incarnation of the Deity.  Taken in the latter sense, it represented the announcement of salvation to mankind, through the direct interposition of miraculous power.  In one sense or the other, it enters into every scheme of ecclesiastical decoration; but chiefly it is set before us as a great and awful mystery, of which the two figures of Gabriel, the angel-messenger, and Mary the “highly-favoured,” placed in relation to each other, became the universally accepted symbol, rather than the representation.

THE ANNUNCIATION AS A MYSTERY.

Considering the importance given to the Annunciation in its mystical sense, it is strange that we do not find it among the very ancient symbolical subjects adopted in the first ages of Christian art.  It does not appear on the sarcophagi, nor in the early Greek carvings and diptychs, nor in the early mosaics—­except once, and then as a part of the history of Christ, not as a symbol; nor can we trace the mystical treatment of this subject higher than the eleventh century, when it first appears in the Gothic sculpture and stained glass.  In the thirteenth, and thenceforward, the Annunciation appears before us, as the expression in form of a theological dogma, everywhere conspicuous.  It became a primal element in every combination of sacred representations; the corner-stone, as it were, of every architectural system of religious decoration.  It formed a part of every altar-piece, either in sculpture or painting.  Sometimes the Virgin stands on one side of the altar, the angel on the other, carved in marble or alabaster, or of wood richly painted and gilt; or even, as I have seen in some instances, of solid silver.  Not seldom, we find the two figures placed in niches against the pillars, or on pedestals at the entrance of the choir.  It was not necessary, when thus symbolically treated, to place the two figures in proximity to signify their relation to each other; they are often divided by the whole breadth of the chancel.

Whatever the subject of the altar-piece—­whether the Nativity, or the Enthroned Madonna, or the Coronation, or the Crucifixion, or the Last Supper,—­the Annunciation almost invariably formed part of the decoration, inserted either into the spandrels of the arches above, or in the predella below; or, which is very common, painted or carved on the doors of a tabernacle or triptychon.

If the figures are full-length, a certain symmetry being required, they are either both standing or both kneeling; it is only in later times that the Virgin sits, and the angel kneels.  When disposed in circles or semicircles, they are often merely busts, or half-length figures, separated perhaps by a framework of tracery, or set on each side of the principal subject, whatever that may be.  Hence it is that we so often find in galleries and collections, pictures of the Annunciation in two separate parts, the angel in one frame, the Virgin in another; and perhaps the two pictures, thus disunited, may have found their way into different countries and different collections,—­the Virgin being in Italy and the angel in England.