[Footnote 1:  In the “History of Our Lord, as illustrated in the Fine Arts,” the devotional and characteristic effigies of the infant Christ, and the accompanying attributes, will be treated at length.]

The throne on which the Virgin is seated, is, in very early pictures, merely an embroidered cushion on a sort of stool, or a carved Gothic chair, such as we see in the thrones and stalls of cathedrals.  It is afterwards converted into a rich architectural throne, most elaborately adorned, according to the taste and skill of the artist.  Sometimes, as in the early Venetian pictures, it is hung with garlands of fruits and flowers, most fancifully disposed.  Sometimes the arabesque ornaments are raised in relief and gilt.  Sometimes the throne is curiously painted to imitate various marbles, and adorned with medallions and bas-reliefs from those subjects of the Old Testament which have a reference to the character of the Virgin and the mission of her divine Child; the commonest of all being the Fall, which rendered a Redeemer necessary.  Moses striking the rock (the waters of life)—­the elevation of the brazen serpent—­the gathering of the manna—­or Moses holding the broken tablets of the old law,—­all types of redemption, are often thus introduced as ornaments.  In the sixteenth century, when the purely religious sentiment had declined, and a classical and profane taste had infected every department of art and literature, we find the throne of the Virgin adorned with classical ornaments and bas-reliefs from the antique remains; as, for instance, the hunt of Theseus and Hippolyta.  We must then suppose her throned on the ruins of paganism, an idea suggested by the old legends, which represent the temples and statues of the heathen gods as falling into ruin on the approach of the Virgin and her Child; and a more picturesque application of this idea afterwards became common in other subjects.  In Garofalo’s picture the throne is adorned with Sphinxes—­a l’antique.  Andrea del Sarto has placed harpies at the corner of the pedestal of the throne, in his famous Madonna di San Francesco (Florence Gal.),—­a gross fault in that otherwise grand and faultless picture; one of those desecrations of a religious theme which Andrea, as devoid of religious feeling as he was weak and dishonest, was in the habit of committing.

But whatever the material or style of the throne, whether simple or gorgeous, it is supposed to be a heavenly throne.  It is not of the earth, nor on the earth; and at first it was alone and unapproachable.  The Virgin-mother, thus seated in her majesty, apart from all human beings, and in communion only with the Infant Godhead on her knee, or the living worshippers who come to lay down their cares and sorrows at the foot of her throne and breathe a devout “Salve Regina!”—­is, through its very simplicity and concentrated interest, a sublime conception.  The effect of these figures, in their divine quietude and loveliness, can never be appreciated when hung