ls attend bearing tapers. Behind the extended form of the
Virgin is the figure of Christ; a glorious red seraph with expanded
wings hovers above his head. He holds in his arms the soul of the
Virgin in likeness of a new-born child. On each side stand St.
Dionysius the Areopagite, and St. Timothy, Bishop of Ephesas, in
episcopal robes. In front, the archangel Michael bends forward to
strike off the hands of the high-priest Adonijah, who had attempted to
profane the bier. (This last circumstance is rarely expressed, except
in the Byzantine pictures; for in the Italian legend, the hands of the
intruder wither and adhere to the bed or shrine.) In the picture
just described; all is at once simple, and formal, and solemn, and
supernatural; it is a very perfect example in its way of the genuine
Byzantine treatment. There is a similar picture in the Christian
museum of the Vatican.

Another (the date about the first half of the fourteenth century,
as I think) is curious from the introduction of the women.[1] The
Virgin lies on an embroidered sheet held reverently by angels; at the
feet and at the head other angels bear tapers; Christ receives the
departing soul, which stretches out its arms; St. John kneels in
front, and St. Peter reads the service; the other apostles are behind
him, and there are three women. The execution of this curious picture
is extremely rude, but the heads very fine. Cimabue painted the Death
of the Virgin at Assisi. There is a beautiful example by Giotto, where
two lovely angels stand at the head and two at the feet, sustaining
the pall on which she lies; another most exquisite by Angelico in
the Florence Gallery; another most beautiful and pathetic by Taddeo
Bartoli in the Palazzo Publico at Siena.

[Footnote 1: At present in the collection of Mr. Bromley, of Wootten.]

The custom of representing Christ as standing by the couch or tomb of
his mother, in the act of receiving her soul, continued down to the
fifteenth century, at least with slight deviations from the original
conception. The later treatment is quite different. The solemn
mysterious sleep, the transition from one life to another, became a
familiar death-bed scene with the usual moving accompaniments. But
even while avoiding the supernatural incidents, the Italians gave to
the representation much ideal elegance; for instance, in the beautiful
fresco by Ghirlandajo. (Florence, S. Maria-Novella.)

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