appeals to all is the presentment of noble natures and of
noble deeds. Where, for most people at any rate, is the "allegory" in
the Theseus or the Venus of Milo? Yet is not the whole race of man the
better for them?

Work, therefore, quietly and continually at the great themes ready set
for you in the story of the past and "understanded of the people," while
you are patiently strengthening and maturing your powers of art in
safety, sheltered from yourself, and sheltered from the condemnation due
to the too presumptuous assumption of apostleship. For it is one thing
to stand forth and say, "_I_ have a message to deliver to the world,"
and quite another to say, "_There is_ such a message, and it has fallen
to me to be its mouthpiece; woe is me, because I am a man of unclean
lips." It is needless, therefore--nay, it is harmful--to be always
breaking your heart against tasks beyond your strength. Work in some
little province; get foothold and grow outwards from it; go on from
weakness to strength, and then from strength to the stronger, doing the
things you _can_ do while you practise towards the things you hope to
do, and illustrating impersonal themes until the time comes for you to
try your own individual battle in the great world of thought and
feeling; till, mature in strength equal to the portrayal of great
natures, the Angels of God as shown forth by you may be recognised as
indeed Spirit, and His Ministers as flaming Fire.

There is even yet one last word, and that is, in all the _minor_
symbolism surrounding your subjects, to observe a due proportion. For
you may easily be tempted to allow some beautiful little fancy, not
essential to the subject, to find expression in a form or symbol that
will thrust itself unduly on the attention, and will only puzzle and
distract.

Never let little things come first, and never let them be allowed at all
to the damage, or impairing, or obscuring of the simplicity and dignity
of the great things; remembering always that the first function of a
window is to have stately and seemly figures in beautiful glass, and not
to arrest or distract the attention of the spectator with puzzles. Given
the great themes adequately expressed, the little fancies may then
cluster round them and will be carried lightly, as the victor wears his
wreath; while, on the other hand, if these be lacking no amount of
symbolism or attribute will supply their place. "_Cucullus non facit
monachum_," as the o