wn deep expression. We may gaze upon the two silent figures
until their silence seems to be broken, and the words of the question
and reply sound in our ears, low as if from far away:

"Whence is this to me, that the Mother of my Lord should come to me?"

"My soul doth magnify the Lord, and my spirit hath rejoiced in God my
Saviour."

* * * * *

XVI.

THE NATIVITY.

I am not sure whether I shall do well or kindly in telling the reader
anything about this beautiful design. Perhaps the less he knows about
early art or early traditions, the more deeply he will feel its purity
and truth; for there is scarcely an incident here, or anything in the
manner of representing the incidents, which is not mentioned or
justified in Scripture. The bold, hilly background reminds us that
Bethlehem was in the hill-country of Judah. But it may seem to have
two purposes besides this literal one: the first, that it increases
the idea of _exposure_ and loneliness in the birth of Christ; the
second that the masses of the great hills, with the angels floating
round them in the horizontal clouds, may in some sort represent to our
thoughts the power and space of that heaven and earth whose Lord is
being laid in the manger-cradle.

There is an exquisite truth and sweetness in the way the Virgin turns
upon the couch, in order herself to assist in laying the Child down.
Giotto is in this exactly faithful to the scriptural words: "_She_
wrapped the Child in swaddling-clothes, and _laid_ Him in a manger."
Joseph sits beneath in meditation; above, the angels, all exulting,
and, as it were, confused with joy, flutter and circle in the air like
birds,--three looking up to the Father's throne with praise and
thankfulness, one stooping to adore the Prince of Peace, one flying to
tell the shepherds. There is something to me peculiarly affecting in
this disorder of theirs; even angels, as it were, breaking their ranks
with wonder, and not knowing how to utter their gladness and passion
of praise. There is noticeable here, as in all works of this early
time, a certain confidence in the way in which the angels trust to
their wings, very characteristic of a period of bold and simple
conception. Modern science has taught us that a wing cannot be
anatomically joined to a shoulder; and in proportion as painters
approach more and more to the scientific, as distinguished from the
contemplative state of mind, they put the wings