mingling towers and turrets, the free profusion of fantastic frieze-work, the intertangled tracery of the painted glass, letting in "a dim religious light," all betoken a spirit dissatisfied with itself, and groaning and striving after its own disenthrallment and salvation. In truth, the architectural creations of Erwin von Steinbach, more perhaps than any thing else, gave to the Christianity of a mystic age its free and full expression.

A manifestation, but little less complete and admirable, of this peculiar phasis of Christian experience, is presented in the musical compositions of Mozart. The feelings, involved in certain kinds of religious experience, are hardly different from the æsthetic emotions awakened in the mind by particular airs and movements in music; and Mozart, taking advantage of this fact of our nature, has succeeded in reproducing the heart's religious longings through the instrumentality of music.

A large portion of the paintings of Christendom breathe also precisely the same spirit. The Christian painter, instead of deriving his lessons, like the ancient artist, from the balancing boxer or the nimble racer, watched rather, with a sympathizing soul, the saint at his devotions, and the nun at her confession; and hence, at the touch of his pencil, there sprang forth upon the canvass those divine forms, whose pale, spiritual tint, and intense countenance and eye, rolled up in fervent devotion, bespeak a sense of something greater and deeper than Grecian or Roman ever knew.

Nor, indeed, has modern art failed to celebrate the great consummation of all the Christian's aspirations and efforts, the restoration of the soul. In Raphael's virgins, infants and saints, and, especially, in the Saviour of the Transfiguration, there breathes as much composure and serenity and peace, as in any of the productions left to us by ancient art. But it is, in this case, a peace, which the world cannot give. Profound life appears in union with profound repose; and outward form becomes the faithful expression of holiness of heart. On the features of Giovanni's seraphs and glorified spirits there reposes the same serene beatitude; and even the painter's martyr at the stake is, in most cases, but the embodied triumph of assured faith and pious resignation. In no less degree do

the lyrics of Christendom, the psalms of Watts, the songs of Schiller, the odes of Kirke White and Spenser, breathe, at times, the incense of heaven, and hymn the joys of paradise. Nay, the drama, too, as employed by the genius of Calderon, though leading its characters through the darkness and turmoil of worldly life, still closes their career in the brightness of Christian hope and felicity. Nor is architecture without some faint symbols of even this form of religious experience. The pointed dome, which, though exotic in origin, is yet an adopted and favorite growth of Christian soil, impresses the beholder's mind with a feeling, in some measure, analogous to that lofty consciousness, which accompanies purity of heart and holy elevation of sentiment and character. But among the arts, music is the truest representative of this celestial holiness and bliss. If ever the highest and purest joys, of which our present capacities are susceptible, were poured forth in unrestrained freedom, it is in the symphonies of Beethoven. The seventh symphony, in fact, were hardly unmeet for a choir of the ransomed in heaven, and its composer, we can scarcely help thinking, must have believed in the universal redemption of his race.

In the last place, there are some modern productions, which embrace, at once, all the higher excellences of art; which combine beauty, grandeur and sublimity in one harmonious whole, and present, together with symmetry and grace of form, the loftier beauty of intelligence and sentiment. This last and highest perfection of art is exhibited, to some extent, in the great works of Dante and Milton, but appears most conspicuously in a few incomparable efforts of music and painting. As an example of this ultimate achievement of Christian art, we know of nothing to surpass the fifth symphony of Beethoven. This admirable and truly Christian symphony presents a compendium of the soul's efforts and success in the work of redemption. The yearnings of the soul after its true and primitive estate; the restlessness it feels under the burdens of sin; its desperate struggles for deliverance; its tones of despondency; its glimmering, gradually brightening hopes, and its final triumph, together with the jubilee of exultation and the sublime joy of freedom, are successively exhibited in this unrivalled composition. The wildness of tumultu

ous inquietude, the loveliness of hope and aspiration, the grandeur of indomitable resolve and resistance, and the sublimity of illimitable joy, all combined in one beautiful whole, contribute to render this symphony as honorable to Christian art, as it is true to Christian experience. Had we ground to regard the author of this symphony, as a believer in universal restoration, we should have interpreted it, as the grandest representation, ever yet made, of the follies, wanderings and strugglings of the human family on earth, and of their final ingathering and eternal beatitude in the kingdom of heaven.

The great work of Raphael, which adorns the walls of the Vatican, is distinguished for much the same qualities in painting, as the symphony we have described exhibits in the department of music. And, to close our review, at length, with an example, which is yet fresh before our eyes, the last and greatest historical painting of America, though left, unfortunately, without the finishing touch of the master, will still, we are confident, go down to posterity, as a monument and model of the crowning excellences of Christian painting.

The last great element of Christianity, which we have mentioned among those calculated to exert an æsthetical influence, has not hitherto received the faith of the Christian church, and consequently has not as yet produced its legitimate effects in the sphere of art. An idea of a kindred character indeed is expressed, as we have already stated, in the fifth symphony of Beethoven, and, we may add, also in the Messiah of Handel. The closing part of this latter composition sets forth, with striking effect, the resurrection of all in Christ, the change of all, and their anthems of rejoicings and thanksgiving before God. If the believers in universal salvation wish to have their faith realized to their senses as well as hearts and feelings, let them lose no opportunity of listening to this sublime oratorio of Handel's, as well as to the symphonies generally of Beethoven.

It is in the future, however, that the doctrine of the universal ingathering of mankind is to exercise its destined influence on art. It shall be in coming times the theme of grander music than was ever yet struck. A pencil surpassing Raphael's shall portray on the living canvass that

finishing scene of unequalled sublimity; and a verse, loftier than Milton's or Dante's, shall sing to other ages its transcendent and ineffable glories.

After the somewhat rapid review, which has now been taken, of the aesthetic arts, we are able to comprehend, at a glance, the effect, which Christianity has had upon their general character and course of developments. All the art, which preceded the introduction of Christianity, was essentially one-sided and partial. Oriental art was absorbed in its one vast, yet barren idea of the infinite; the art of Greece was devoted, no less exclusively, to symmetry and elegance of form; and the genius of Egypt_thought only of symbolizing the indestructible energies of nature. Christianity, on the other hand, came with nothing partial or exclusive. It bore in its bosom all the great elements of art, and all in their true proportion. It not only introduced elements, new and peculiar to itself, but also brought with it the germ and principle of every thing that went before it. The Christian artist, therefore, acting in the true spirit of his religion, was ready to accept every improvement, and take advantage of all the progress, which art had already made; he appropriated, at once, whatever was valuable in the past, yet, at the same time, applied it all under new modifications, and in a higher spirit. In consequence of this higher spirit, the infinite and sublime, which are bodied forth in Christian art, tend as much to call forth admiration and love, as they do to arouse the deeper feelings of reverence and awe; and, from the same cause, beauty of form, in the hands of the Christian artist, has become the expression of inward life. And, finally, for this last accomplishment of art-the expression of deep and intense life-all the praise and credit are due to Christianity alone.

In concluding this protracted article, we wish to urge, in a single word, the reasonableness of a spirit of tolerance and of just appreciation towards all the great national styles of art, that have now passed under review. They all have their truth and value and appropriateness. Art, let it not be forgotten, is like humanity itself, progressive, and its ultimate destiny is to express every phasis, and address every condition, of human nature.

The art of India, or of Egypt, expresses just those æsthetic ideas, which naturally strike the mind in a state of civilization such as theirs, and it expresses feelings, too, which every mind in every state of civilization, must at times experience. There are times in every man's experience, when it seems that the arm of inexorable fate is held over us, when it seems that the wheels of necessity are rolling on, stern and resistless, crushing alike the strong and the weak; and, at such times, the art of Egypt will speak to our feelings a true and congenial language. Grecian art, in just the same manner, expounds to us that form of human nature, which was developed under the peculiar influences of ancient Greece; and whenever we wish to represent such ideas, or feelings, or character, as there prevailed, we have prepared for us and ready to our hands, models of unsurpassable perfection. And, finally, in Christian art we recognise the latest triumphs of human genius, and the true models for the expression of Christian ideas and sentiments.

On the broadest view, then, in fine, of the mission and destiny of art, the very poorest productions of artistic genius must be reckoned not without value, provided only they are true to the spirit and character in which they originate; and he, who wishes to understand humanity in all its extent and variety, will not be forward to disparage any thing, which manifests any prominent aspect or trait of our common nature.

S.

ART. XI.

Aibovios, as used by Philo Judæus.

PHILO, a learned and very eminent Jew of Alexandria in Egypt, wrote his works, chiefly on religion and speculative philosophy, between A. D. 20 or 30, and the middle of the first century. Accordingly, he was cotemporary with Christ and the apostles; and though his writings appeared a few years, probably, before those of the New Testament, they may nevertheless be considered as belonging to the same age. It is not our purpose, here, to speak of their general character, nor to set forth the philosophical princi