(By permission of Miss Armitage.)
FAITH.
(By the late E. Armitage, R.A.)
We now pass on to the New Testament—the section most favoured by artists, for the attraction of its central Figure is as overpowering for the painter of to-day as it has been to those of the intervening ages. The picture on page 390 of "Christ in the House of His Parents," by the late Sir John Millais, is one of the earliest and most noted of the painter's works. When exhibited at the Royal Academy in 1850 (Millais was then but twenty years of age), it had for its inscription, "And one shall say unto him, What are these wounds in thine hands? Then he shall answer, Those with which I was wounded in the house of my friends" (Zechariah xiii. 6). The picture aroused a veritable storm of hostile criticism, scorn and contumely being poured on painting and painter alike. Charles Dickens, in his Household Words, pronounced it as "mean, odious, revolting, and repulsive," and other critics found fault with it in equally strong language. It was then that the title of "The Carpenter's Shop" was scornfully bestowed upon it, and by which it has since been generally known: it has, however, long been recognised as one of the most wonderful contributions to modern British art, quite apart from any consideration of the age of the artist when he painted it. The perfect draughtsmanship, the wonderful colouring, the marvellous skill displayed in the whole composition, were all overlooked by the contemporary critics; all they considered was the—to them—execrable taste of the artist in representing Christ in an ordinary carpenter's shop! The beautiful allegories contained in the work were all ignored, and abuse for the conception alone given place.
"ECCE HOMO!"
(By Professor Ciseri.)
And yet, when it is examined, what is there to find fault with in this respect? Absolutely nothing. The artist set himself to paint from nature; the work appeals directly to the observant eye by its simple force; even the symbols are not intricate when carefully considered. The Child, whilst playing with the pincers in His father's workshop, has injured His hand on a rusty nail protruding from the wood on the bench. Joseph draws back the fingers to examine the wound (the symbolism of which is obvious enough), and Mary, with grief and motherly anxiety portrayed on every line of her face, seeks to soothe the Boy, and with a piece of linen prepares to bind up the hand. St. John is coming with a bowl of water with which to bathe the injury, and St. Anne leans forward to remove the tool which contributed to the hurt. On the ladder against the wall rests a dove—the emblem of peace—and through the open doorway can be seen a flock of sheep huddled close to a fence, emblematical of the faithful, the Church of Christ. Farther out in the meadow is a well—the well of Truth.
(Reproduced by permission from the Original Painting in the possession of the Liverpool Corporation.)