of past ages, we turn with relief
to a simple portrait mother like this, at once the most primitive and
the most advanced form of Madonna art. It is only another case where
the simplest is the best.

CHAPTER II.

THE MADONNA ENTHRONED.

In every true home the mother is queen, enthroned in the hearts of her
loving children. There is, therefore, a beautiful double significance,
which we should always have in mind, in looking at the Madonna
enthroned. According to the theological conception of the period in
which it was first produced, the picture stands for the Virgin Mother
as Queen of Heaven. Understood typically, it represents the exaltation
of motherhood.

In the history of art development, the enthroned Madonna begins where
the portrait Madonna ends. We may date it from the thirteenth century,
when Cimabue, of Florence, and Guido, of Siena, produced their famous
pictures. Similar types had previously appeared in the mosaic
decorations of churches, but now, for the first time, they were
worthily set forth in panel pictures.

The story of Cimabue's Madonna is one of the oft-told tales we like to
hear repeated. How on a certain day, about 1270, Charles of Anjou was
passing through Florence; how he honored the studio of Cimabue by a
visit; how the Madonna was then first uncovered; how the people
shouted so joyously that the street was thereafter named the Borgo dei
Allegri; and how the great picture was finally borne in triumphal
procession to the church of Santa Maria Novella,--all these are the
scenes in the pretty drama. The late Sir Frederick Leighton has
preserved for future centuries this story, already six hundred years
old, in a charming pageant picture: "Cimabue's Madonna carried
through the streets of Florence." This was the first work ever
exhibited by the English artist, and was an important step in the
career which ended in the presidency of the Royal Academy.

Cimabue's Madonna still hangs in Santa Maria Novella, over the altar
of the Ruccellai chapel, and thither many a pilgrim takes his way to
honor the memory of the father of modern painting. The throne is a
sort of carved armchair, very simple in form, but richly overlaid with
gold; the surrounding background is filled with adoring angels. Here
sits the Madonna, in stiff solemnity, holding her child on her lap. If
we find it hard to admire her beauty, we must note the superiority of
the picture to its predecessors.

For the enthroned M