Our next illustration must be from ecclesiastical art - the traditional representation of the Apostles, with S. Mary in their midst, sitting with their hands folded on their breasts, faces seraphically upturned, each wearing his halo, and a little flame burning peacefully 'on every sainted head'; this, too, has been made part of our popular religion in Keble's hymn, where the softness is no longer that of the breath of even, but of 'morning prime'; and where, in accordance with many Old Masters, but in defiance of Holy Writ, the Dove is introduced to complete the gentle picture.
If only our translators had ventured to translate περισгερά by its better rendering, 'pigeon', we should have escaped so much; for 'pigeon' does not rhyme with 'love' and 'above'. We might in that case never have missed the force of the description of Christ's baptism. 'Pigeon' may sound less dignified to our ears, but this is only due to the associations of art (including the art of rhyme): the dove, though a soft and pretty bird, is extremely stupid, and was never in Holy Writ meant to typify Wisdom. I remember one of these birds in my Indian bungalow, who beat himself nearly to death against a window just over the door of the bath-room, though I left the door open for him throughout the day. The dove - let me hasten to say, lest I share the curse of the heretic Severus, who was anathematized by the second Council of Nicaea, for condemning
