and whitewash to which puritanical bigotry reduced our noble cathedrals. The ingenious researches of our active art students have shown by the strongest testimony, how necessary colour was deemed to the most finished architectural effects among our predecessors; even from earliest periods of Doric art, to the most florid development of our own northern Gothic. But the same attention has not till very recently been paid to the existing examples which exhibit the addition of colour to statuary, whether of wood, ivory, or marble.”

The colouring of the early wooden images of the Greeks, the ancient ξόανα, on the ἑρμαῖ, the Παλλάδια, and the diadala, are among the earliest examples we can cite of Grecian coloured statuary; but the half relievoes of the Egyptians and Assyrians carry the custom of painted sculpture into very remote antiquity.

The positive painting of statues, from the earliest period, to the epoch of its highest development among the ancients, is quite a distinct art from that by which certain effects of colour were produced by the use of variously-coloured materials; as in the Acrolithic statues composed of various stones and marbles of different colours; or the Chryselephantine statuary, of ivory and gold, which was carried to its highest perfection by Phidias. Of the last-named kind was the celebrated Jupiter, which, with its drapery of gold,

its flesh of ivory, and its eyes (probably) of sapphire, is described by Strabo, as surpassing all other works of statuary in richness and imposing majesty of aspect, and seeming, in the dim light of the temple, actually to realize the præsens numen. Indeed so exquisitely did the substance of ivory appear to the Greeks to imitate the semi-transparent tone of the human skin, that it was forbidden to use it except for statues of the gods.

“But, as I remarked, this kind of polychrome statuary, the colours of which were simply those of the various materials employed in its composition, was quite distinct from the painted statues, the execution and delicate finish of which the Greeks carried to the utmost perfection; as we know by the great reputation attained by Nicias as an ἀγαλματων έγηκαvorne, or painter of statues.

"From a comparison of various authorities, it would appear that in the highest class of statuary the flesh only received a tinted varnish, while the hair, the eyebrows, eyes, drapery, &c. were richly coloured; a profusion of gilding being almost invariably employed. But though in some instances only a transparent varnish was used to represent the colour of flesh, at the late period of Nicias and Praxiteles, when over-refinement in art perhaps led to the abandonment of some of the bolder and more effective practices of earlier periods, yet, it is pretty certain that the

use of a positive flesh colour was still prevalent; and even in different tones for different parts of the body; as violet at the temples, rose-colour on the cheeks, and a deeper red on the lips-every tint, in short, being imitated precisely as in a painting; except that the statue made its own shadows, while in a picture they are supplied, along with the fore-shortening and aërial perspective, by the skill of the painter."

"That the race of Greek statue painters was not extinct in the lower empire, we have evident proof from the Byzantine works of miniature sculpture now lying upon the table; which, though doubtless greatly inferior in their colouring to those of the finer periods of Greek art, yet exhibit considerable delicacy in the selection of tints, and exquisite skill in the method of laying on the colour; which, it is evident, in no way detracted from the sharpness or beauty of the sculpture, as you may observe in the present example, which is remarkable for its sharp and careful finish.”

"That this art was inherited by our Gothic artists from the statue painters of Byzantium, there can be no doubt; and some of the painted statues of saints, of medieval workmanship, are perfect marvels of art, of that earnest, delicate, saintlike character, so well known to characterize the paintings of Giotto and his school; and which the pre-Raphaelites are endeavouring, in vain, to revive."

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Here, for instance, is a small statue of St. Dominic,

executed in the fourteenth century, for a private chapel, lately demolished, to make room for modern improvements in the Palazzo B-. The ancestors of the present possessor had held the important appointment of Masters of the Sacred Palace, an office first introduced by St. Dominic himself; and a chapel had been in consequence founded in his honour in the family chief residence. The execution of the figure, as regards both arts, its painting and its sculpture, is sweetly impressive and beautiful; and there is a venerable calm in the dark half downcast eye, that simple sculpture, without the aid of colour, could scarcely produce."

With a few observations on other objects of a similar class, the Archæological Botanist terminated his little discourse; and a very lively discussion ensued,— the members of the association dividing themselves into two factions, as Polychromatists and anti-Polichromatists; and the debate grew loud and vehement; and was even getting hot, when a pair of folding doors were suddenly thrown open, displaying a still hotter supper; which, upon the homoeopathic principle, similia similibus curantur, immediately cooled the ardour of the combatants, and aroused an entirely new and distinct set of sympathies.

At the close of the repast, there was a general call for a Story, as usual, yet none seemed "i' the vein,"

as the Botanist had said in the morning. But suddenly, a voice was heard from the adjoining room, declaring the speaker ready to comply with the general wish. It was that of the young Spaniard, whose figure was distinguished in the half-lighted apartment, where the discussion had taken place, bending closely over the small statuette of St. Dominic, which he appeared to be examining with great curiosity, and minute attention.

After a pause, during which all eyes were turned towards the scene of the late discussion, the specimens of which still lay upon the table, the young poet came forward, saying, Yes, I will tell you a Story; I will tell you how it was that my father was not an Englishman; and I shall entitle my Story,

THE MANOLA OF PUERTO-DE-SANTA

MARIA.

THAT miniature figure, St. Dominic, commenced the young Spaniard, has recalled a curious incident in our family history, the full particulars of which I only heard, when two years since I resided for a short period in London, as an attaché to our Spanish embassy. I then became acquainted, by the merest accident, with one of the chief performers in the petite comedie

VOL. II.