gallant soldier who shared his cloak with the beggar.

[Footnote 18: The life of St. Martin is related with much circumstance
in the _Golden Legend_. See Caxton's translation in the _Temple
Classics Edition_, vol. vi., p. 142. Mrs. Jameson gives a brief
account of the same in _Sacred and Legendary Art_, p. 705.]

This is the story in our picture. St. Martin rides forward on a
splendid white charger, accompanied by other horsemen. At the corner
of the gateway two beggars await them. The older one hobbles forward
on his knees, supported by crutches. Though he is a miserable object,
he is fairly protected from the cold by a long garment. His companion
is perfectly naked, a huge muscular fellow seated on some straw. He is
just turning about to make way for the cavalcade, when the knight
draws rein.

[Illustration: ST. MARTIN DIVIDING HIS CLOAK WITH A BEGGAR
_Church of Saventhem_]

The horse arches his neck proudly and stamps impatient at the delay.
The rider on St. Martin's right looks across with surprise. But the
young knight serenely proceeds in his generous act. Already his cloak
has slipped from his figure and hangs only from his left shoulder.
Grasping it with his left hand half way down its length, he raises his
sword to sunder it at this place.

The lower end has fallen across the beggar's right arm. At its warm
touch, the man, overwhelmed with gratitude, abashed perhaps by the
goodness of his benefactor, hides his face with his upraised left arm.
It is as if the knightly purity of the compassionate face above him
has revealed the man to himself in his loathsome degradation.

The young soldier is clad in a tunic of mail which sets off to perfect
advantage the lithe figure. Over his short curls is worn a jaunty cap
with a long feather; he is a veritable fairy prince. The boyish face
accords well with the legend, which relates that he was only a youth
when the incident occurred. It is said that no one ever saw St. Martin
angry, or sad, or gay; he was always sweet, and serious, and serene.
This, too, is precisely as we see him in the picture. The good deed
done, we may fancy the young cavalier riding on his way, as if nothing
had happened.

The beautiful horse of the picture is one which appears in many of Van
Dyck's works. There is a tradition that the original was Rubens's
gift to the painter when he set out for Italy. Van Dyck has built his
picture on a diagonal plan, such as the older painter Rubens often