As in the sixth century, the favourite dogma of the time (the union of the divine and human nature in Christ, and the dignity of Mary as parent of both) had been embodied in the group of the Virgin and Child, so now, in the seventeenth, the doctrine of the eternal sanctification and predestination of Mary was, after a long controversy, triumphant, and took form in the “Immaculate Conception;” that beautiful subject in which Guido and Murilio excelled, and which became the darling theme of the later schools of art.  It is worthy of remark, that while in the sixth century, and for a thousand years afterwards, the Virgin, in all devotional subjects, was associated in some visible manner with her divine Son, in this she appears without the Infant in her arms.  The maternal character is set aside, and she stands alone, absolute in herself, and complete in her own perfections.  This is a very significant characteristic of the prevalent theology of the time.

I forbear to say much of the productions of a school of art which sprung up simultaneously with that of the Caracci, and in the end overpowered its higher aspirations.  The Naturalisti, as they were called, imitated nature without selection, and produced some charming painters.  But their religious pictures are almost all intolerable, and their Madonnas are almost all portraits.  Rubens and Albano painted their wives; Allori and Vandyck their mistresses; Domenichino his daughter.  Salvator Rosa, in his Satires, exclaims against this general profaneness in terms not less strong than those of Savonarola in his Sermons; but the corruption was by this time beyond the reach of cure; the sin could neither be preached nor chided away.  Striking effects of light and shade, peculiar attitudes, scenic groups, the perpetual and dramatic introduction of legendary scenes and personages, of visions and miracles of the Madonna vouchsafed to her votaries, characterize the productions of the seventeenth century.  As “they who are whole need not a physician, but they who are sick,” so in proportion to the decline of faith were the excitements to faith, or rather to credulity:  just in proportion as men were less inclined to believe were the wonders multiplied which they were called on to believe.

I have not spoken of the influence of Jesuitism on art.  This Order kept alive that devotion for the Madonna which their great founder Loyola had so ardently professed when he chose for the “Lady” of his thoughts, “no princess, no duchess, but one far greater, more peerless.”  The learning of the Jesuits supplied some themes not hitherto in use, principally of a fanciful and allegorical kind, and never had the meek Mary been so decked out with earthly ornament as in their church pictures.  If the sanctification of simplicity, gentleness, maternal love, and heroic fortitude, were calculated to elevate the popular mind, the sanctification of mere glitter and ornament, embroidered robes, and jewelled crowns,