ries of difficult corners around which the
sense cannot immediately travel, but would for the fructification or
sustentation's sake of its etherealism, a process of counter argument
may deduce this aphorism, that in works of art in which the eye
travels quickly round all the corners of thought, motive, and
expression, the priceless, highest crown of spirituality cannot be
awarded to it. The painter, honestly striving with his subject, and
on lines of intimate understanding, has none of his physical reasons
thrown into shade, either be it for the nobility of his art, or for
urgency's sake, or for the softer assuaging of sensitiveness in the
breasts of his academic audience, having no inclination to be stung
when in the precincts, the hands of Art; for to whom else is the
pictorial homily directed? The group of figures upon the raised
tribune is classically adjusted to its position of prominence. The
spare figure of Christ, "The Man of Sorrows," is well conceived; the
face is wan, haggard, the attitude tastefully depicted. A palpable and
perilous digression is made by the artist in ignoring the text of
Holy Writ, "Wearing the purple robe," electing to substitute for the
purpose of his science a scarlet "toga." But the "torso"! This is
essentially lacking in consummate understanding, skilful address.
In all that assists most to mature a native work of this immense
importance it is sound sense, equivalent to the gravest optimism, to
express this opinion, that the highest powers of science ought humbly,
intelligently to co-operate towards achieving a grand and triumphant
finale, perfect, harmonious in all its parts, and responsible to the
academic dictates of its sacred title. Such a figure Raphael, Leonardo
da Vinci, Titian, or Rubens would have painted and blessed our reasons
with, for a certainty: bountifully inspiring us at once and for
time with their divine interpretation of the great, the majestic
omnipotence.

Any failure in Art cannot rouse us to this pitch; our sensitive,
appreciative spirits would assuredly flag unless some keynote of
resonant power were sounded.

The figure of Pontius Pilate is realistically depicted; it has not the
aristocratic air of a Roman Governor, yet the face, not caring to
meet the gaze of the people, is a work exhibiting some power. It
sardonically, satirically suggests the thought, "I find in Him no
fault at all," possessing a semblance of three meanings. The people,
deputy officers,