Chapter 11

When, in subjects from Scripture history, angels figure not merely as attendants and spectators, but as personages necessary to the action, they are either ministers of the divine wrath, or of the divine mercy; agents of destruction, or agents of help and good counsel. As all these instances belong to the historical scenes of the Old or the New Testament, they will be considered separately, and I shall confine myself here to a few remarks on the introduction and treatment of angels in some subjects of peculiar interest.

18 Adam and Eve expelled (N. Pisano)

In relating ‘the expulsion of Adam and Eve from Paradise,’ it is not said that an angel was the immediate agent of the divine wrath, but it is so represented in works of Art. In the most ancient treatment I have met with,[36]a majestic armed angel drives forth the delinquents, and a cherub with six wings stands as guard before the gate. I found the samemotifin the sculptures on the façade of the Duomo at Orvieto, by Niccolò Pisano. In another instance, an ancient Saxon miniature, the angel is represented not as driving them forth, but closing the door against them. But theseare exceptions to the usual mode of treatment, which seldom varies; the angel is not represented in wrath, but calm, and stretches forth a sword which is often (literally rendering the text) a waving lambent flame. I remember an instance in which the preternatural sword, ‘turning every way,’ as the form of a wheel of flames.

An angel is expressly introduced as a minister of wrath in the story of Balaam, in which I have seen no deviation from the obvious prosaic treatment, rendering the text literally, ‘and the ass saw the angel of the Lord standing in the way and his sword drawn in his hand.’

‘The destroying angel, leaning from heaven, presents to David three arrows, from which to choose—war, pestilence, or famine.’ I have found this subject beautifully executed in several MSS., for instance, in the ‘Heures d’Anne de Bretagne;’ also in pictures and in prints.

‘The destroying angel sent to chastise the arrogance of David, is beheld standing between heaven and earth with his sword stretched over Jerusalem to destroy it.’ Of this sublime vision I have never seen any but the meanest representations; none of the great masters have treated it; perhaps Rembrandt might have given us the terrible and glorious angel standing like a shadow in the midst of his own intense irradiation. David fallen on his face, and the sons of Ornan hiding themselves by their rude threshing-floor, with that wild mixture of the familiar and the unearthly in which he alone has succeeded.

‘The Chastisement of Heliodorus’ has given occasion to the sublimest composition in which human genius ever attempted to embody the conception of the supernatural—Raphael’s fresco in the Vatican. St. Michael, the protecting angel of the Hebrew nation, is supposed to have been the minister of divine wrath on this occasion; but Raphael, in omitting the wings, and all exaggeration or alteration of the human figure, has shown how unnecessary it was forhimto have recourse to the prodigious and impossible in form, in order to give the supernatural in sentiment. The unearthly warrior and his unearthly steed—the weapon in his hand, which is not a sword to pierce, nor a club to strike, but a sort of mace, of which, as it seems, a touch would annihilate; the two attendant spirits, who come gliding above the marble floor, with their hair streaming back with the rapidity of their aërial motion—are in the very spirit of Dante, and, as conceptions ofsuperhuman power, superior to anything in pictured form which Art has bequeathed to us.

In calling to mind the various representations of the angels of the Apocalypse let loose for destruction, one is tempted to exclaim, ‘O for a warning voice!’ When the Muse of Milton quailed, and fell ten thousand fathom deep into Bathos, what could be expected from human invention? In general, where this subject is attempted in pictures, we find the angels animated, like those of Milton in the war of heaven, with ‘fierce desire of battle,’ breathing vengeance, wrath, and fury. So Albert Dürer, in those wonderful scenes of his ‘Apocalypse,’ has exhibited them; but some of the early Italians show them merely impassive, conquering almost without effort, punishing without anger. The immediate instruments of the wrath of God in the day of judgment are not angels, but devils or demons, generally represented by the old painters with every possible exaggeration of hideousness, and as taking a horrible and grotesque delight in their task. The demons are fallen angels, their deformity a consequence of their fall. Thus, in some very ancient representations of the expulsion of Lucifer and his rebel host, the degradation of the form increases with their distance from heaven.[37]Those who are uppermost are still angels; they bear the aureole, the wings, and the tunic; they have not yet lost all their original brightness: those below them begin to assume the bestial form: the fingers become talons, the heads become horned; and at last, as they touch the confines of the gulf of hell, the transformation is seen complete, from the luminous angel into the abominable and monstrous devil, with serpent tail, claws, bristles, and tusks. This gradual transformation, as they descend into the gulf of sin, has a striking allegorical significance which cannot escape the reader. In a Greek MS. of the ninth century,[38]bearing singular traces of antique classical art in the conception and attributes of the figures, I found both angels and demons treated in a style quite peculiar and poetical. The angels are here gigantic, majestic, Jove-like figures, with great wings. The demons are also majestic graceful winged figures, but painted of a dusky grey colour (it may originally have been black). In one scene, where Julian the Apostate goes to seek the heathen divinities, they are thus represented,that is, asblack angels; showing that the painter had here assumed the devils or demons to be the discrowned and fallen gods of the antique world.

These are a few of the most striking instances of angels employed as ministers of wrath. Angels, as ministers of divine grace and mercy,

Of all those arts which Deity supremeDoth ease its heart of love in.

Of all those arts which Deity supreme

Doth ease its heart of love in.

occur much more frequently.

The ancient heresy that God made use of the agency of angels in the creation of the world, and of mankind, I must notice here, because it has found its way into Art; for example, in an old miniature which represents an angel having before him a lump of clay, a kind ofébaucheof humanity, which he appears to be moulding with his hands, while the Almighty stands by directing the work.[39]This idea, absurd as it may appear, is not perhaps more absurd than the notion of those who would represent the Great First Cause as always busied in fashioning or altering the forms in his visible creation, like a potter or any other mechanic. But as we are occupied at present with the scriptural, not the legendary subjects, I return to the Old Testament. The first time that we read of an angel sent as a messenger of mercy, it is for the comfort of poor Hagar; when he found her weeping by the spring of water in the wilderness, because her mistress had afflicted her: and again, when she was cast forth and her boy fainted for thirst. In the representation of these subjects, I do not know a single instance in which the usual angelic form has not been adhered to. In the sacrifice of Isaac, ‘the angel of the Lord calls to Abraham out of heaven.’ This subject, as the received type of the sacrifice of the Son of God, was one of the earliest in Christian Art. We find it on the sarcophagi of the third and fourth centuries; but in one of the latest only have I seen a personage introduced as staying the hand of Abraham, and this personage is without wings. In painting, the angel is sometimes in the act of taking the sword out of Abraham’s hand, which expresses the nature of his message: or he lays one hand on his arm, and with the other points to the ram which was to replace the sacrifice, or brings the ram in hisarms to the altar; but, whatever the action, the form of the angelic messenger has never varied from the sixth century.

19 The Angels who visit Abraham (Raphael)

In the visit of the angels to Abraham, there has been a variety caused by the wording of the text. It is not said that threeangelsvisited Abraham, yet in most of the ancient representations the three celestial guests are, winged angels. I need hardly observe that these three angels are assumed to be a figure of the Trinity, and in some old illuminations the interpretation is not left doubtful, the angels being characterised as the three persons of the Trinity, wearing each the cruciform nimbus: two of them, young and beardless, stand behind; the third, representing the Father, has a beard, and, beforeHim, Abraham is prostrated. Beautiful for grace and simplicity is the winged group by Ghiberti, in which the three seem to step and move together as one. More modern artists have given us the celestial visitants merely as men. Pre-eminent in this style of conception are the pictures of Raphael and Murillo. Raphael here, as elsewhere, a true poet, has succeeded in conveying, with exquisite felicity, the sentimentof power, of a heavenly presence, and of a mysterious significance. The three youths, who stand linked together hand in hand before the Patriarch, with such an air of benign and superior grace, want no wings to show us that they belong to the courts of heaven, and have but just descended to earth—

So lively shinesIn them divine resemblance, and such graceThe hand that form’d them on their shape hath pour’d.

So lively shines

In them divine resemblance, and such grace

The hand that form’d them on their shape hath pour’d.

Murillo, on the contrary, gives us merely three young men, travellers, and has set aside wholly both the angelic and the mystic character of the visitants.[40]

The angels who descend and ascend the ladder in Jacob’s dream are in almost every instance represented in the usual form; sometimes a few[41]—sometimes in multitudes[42]—sometimes as one only, who turns to bless the sleeper before he ascends;[43]and the ladder is sometimes a flight, or a series of flights, of steps ascending from earth to the empyrean. But here it is Rembrandt who has shown himself the poet; the ladder is a slanting stream of light; the angels are mysterious bird-like luminous forms, which emerge one after another from a dazzling fount of glory, and go floating up and down,—so like a dream made visible!—In Middle-Age Art this vision of Jacob occurs very rarely. I shall have to return to it when treating of the subjects from the Old Testament.

In the New Testament angels are much more frequently alluded to than in the Old; more as a reality, less as a vision; in fact, there is no important event throughout the Gospels and Acts in which angels do not appear, either as immediate agents, or as visible and present; and in scenes where they are not distinctly said to be visibly present, they are assumed to be so invisibly, St. Paul having said expressly that ‘their ministry is continual.’ It is therefore with undeniable propriety that, in works of Art representing the incidents of the Gospels, angels should figure as a perpetual presence, made visible under such forms as custom and tradition have consecrated.

I pass over, for the present, the grandest, the most important mission of an angel, the announcement brought by Gabriel to the blessed Virgin. I shall have to treat it fully hereafter.[44]The angel who appears to Joseph in a dream, and the angel who commands him to flee into Egypt, was in both cases probably the same angel who hailed Mary as blessed above all women; but we are not told so; and according to some commentators it was the guardian angel of Joseph who appeared to him. In these and other scenes of the New Testament, in which angels are described as direct agents, or merely as a chorus of ministering attendants, they have the usual form, enhanced by as much beauty, and benignity, and aërial grace as the fancy of the artist could bestow on them. In the Nativity they are seen hovering on high, pouring forth their song of triumph; they hold a scroll in their hands on which their song is written: in general there are three angels; the first sings,Gloria in excelsis Deo!the second,Et in terra pax!the third,Hominibus bonæ voluntatis!but in some pictures the three angels are replaced by a numerous choir, who raise the song of triumph in the skies, while others are seen kneeling round and adoring the Divine Infant.

The happiest, the most beautiful, instance I can remember of this particular treatment is the little chapel in the Riccardi Palace at Florence. This chapel is in the form of a Greek cross, and the frescoes are thus disposed:—

The walls 1, 2, and 3, are painted with the journey of the Wise Men, who, with a long train of attendants mounted on horseback and gorgeously apparelled, are seen travelling over hill and dale led by the guiding star. Over the altar was the Nativity (now removed); on each side (4, 5) is seen a choir of angels, perhaps fifty in number, rejoicing over the birth of the Redeemer: some kneel in adoration, with arms folded over the bosom, others offer flowers; some come dancing forward with flowers in their hands or in the lap of their robe; others sing and make celestial music: they have glories round their heads, all inscribed alike, ‘Gloria in excelsis Deo!’ The naïve grace, the beautiful devout expression, the airy movements of these lovely beings, melt the soul to harmony and joy. The chapel having been long shut up, and its existence scarcely remembered, these paintings are in excellent preservation; and I saw nothing in Italy that more impressed me with admiration of the genuine feeling and piety of the old masters. The choral angels of Angelico da Fiesole already described are not more pure in sentiment, and are far less animated, than these.[45]

But how different from both is the ministry of the angels in some of the pictures of the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries, both German and Italian! The Virgin Mary is washing her Divine Infant; angels dry the clothes, or pour out water: Joseph is planing a board, and angels assist the Infant Saviour in sweeping up the chips. In a beautiful little Madonna and Child, in Prince Wallerstein’s collection, an angel is playing with the Divine Infant, is literally hisplay-fellow; a very graceful idea, of which I have seen but this one instance.

In the Flight into Egypt, an angel often leads the ass. In the Riposo, a subject rare before the fifteenth century, angels offer fruit and flowers, or bend down the branches of the date tree, that Joseph may gather the fruit; or weave the choral dance, hand in hand, for the delight of the Infant Christ, while others make celestial music—as in Vandyck’s beautiful picture in Lord Ashburton’s collection. After the Temptation, they minister to the Saviour in the wilderness, and spread for him a table of refreshment—

... celestial food divine,Ambrosial fruit, fetch’d from the tree of life,And from the fount of life ambrosial drink.

... celestial food divine,

Ambrosial fruit, fetch’d from the tree of life,

And from the fount of life ambrosial drink.

It is not said that angels were visibly present at the baptism of Christ; but it appears to me that they ought not therefore to be supposed absent, and that there is a propriety in making them attendants on this solemn occasion. They are not introduced in the very earliest examples, those in the catacombs and sarcophagi; nor yet in the mosaics of Ravenna; because angels were then rarely figured, and instead of the winged angel we have the sedge-crowned river god, representing the Jordan. In the Greek formula, they are required to be present ‘in an attitude of respect:’ no mention is made of their holding the garments of our Saviour; but it is certain that in Byzantine Art, and generally from the twelfth century, this has been the usual mode of representing them. According to the Fathers, our Saviour had no guardian angel; because he did not require one: notwithstanding the sense usually given to the text, ‘He shall give his angels charge concerning thee, lest at any time thou dash thy foot against a stone,’ the angels, they affirm, were not the guardians, but the servants, of Christ; and hence, I presume, the custom of representing them, not merely as present, but as ministering to him during his baptism. The gates of San Paolo (tenth century) afford the most ancient example I have met with of an angel holding the raiment of the Saviour: there is only one angel. Giotto introduces two graceful angels kneeling on the bank of the river, and looking on with attention. The angel in Raphael’s composition bows his head, as if awe-struck by the divine recognition of the majesty of the Redeemer; and the reverent manner in which he holds the vestment is very beautiful. Other examples will here suggest themselves to the reader, and I shall resume the subject when treating of the life of our Saviour.

In one account of our Saviour’s agony in the garden of Gethsemane, it is expressly said that an angel ‘appeared unto him out of heaven, strengthening him;’ therefore, where this awful and pathetic subject has been attempted in Art, there is propriety in introducing a visible angel. Notwithstanding the latitude thus allowed to the imagination, or perhaps for that very reason, the greatest and the most intelligent painters have here fallen into strange errors, both in conception and in taste. For instance, is it not a manifest impropriety to take theScripture phrase in a literal sense, and place a cup in the hand of the angel? Is not the wordcuphere, as elsewhere, used as a metaphor, signifying the destiny awarded by Divine will, as Christ had said before, ‘Ye shall drink of my cup,’ and as we say, ‘his cup overfloweth with blessings’? The angel, therefore, who does not bend from heaven to announce to him the decree he knew full well, nor to present the cup of bitterness, but to strengthen and comfort him, should not bear the cup;—still less the cross, the scourge, the crown of thorns, as in many pictures.

Where our Saviour appears bowed to the earth, prostrate, half swooning with the anguish of that dread moment, and an angel is seen sustaining him, there is a true feeling of the real meaning of Scripture; but even in such examples the effect is often spoiled by an attempt to render the scene at once more mystical and more palpable. Thus a painter equally remarkable for the purity of his taste and deep religious feeling, Niccolò Poussin, has represented Christ, in his agony, supported in the arms of an angel, while a crowd of child-angels, very much like Cupids, appear before him with the instruments of the Passion; ten or twelve bear a huge cross; others hold the scourge, the crown of thorns, the nails, the sponge, the spear, and exhibit them before him, as if these were the images, these the terrors, which could overwhelm with fear and anguish even thehumannature of such a Being![46]It seems to me also a mistake, when the angel is introduced, to make him merely an accessory (as Raphael has done in one of his early pictures), a little figure in the air to help the meaning: since the occasion was worthy of angelic intervention, in a visible shape, bringing divine solace, divine sympathy, it should be represented under a form the most mighty and the most benign that Art could compass;—but has it been so? I can recollect no instance in which the failure has not been complete. If it be said that to render the angelic comforter so superior to the sorrowing and prostrate Redeemer would be to detract fromHisdignity as the principal personage of the scene, and thus violate one of the first rules of Art, I think differently—I think it could do so only in unskilful hands. Represented as it ought to be, and might be, it would infinitelyenhance the idea of that unimaginable anguish which, as we are told, was compounded of the iniquities and sorrows of all humanity laid uponHim. It was not the pang of the Mortal, but the Immortal, which required the presence of a ministering spirit sent down from heaven to sustain him.

21 Lamenting Angel in a Crucifixion (Campo Santo)

In the Crucifixion, angels are seen lamenting, wringing their hands, averting or hiding their faces. In the old Greek crucifixions, one angel bears the sun, another the moon, on each side of the cross:—

... dim sadness did not spare,That time, celestial visages.

... dim sadness did not spare,

That time, celestial visages.

Michael Angelo gives us two unwinged colossal-looking angel heads, which peer out of heaven in the background of his Crucifixion in a manner truly supernatural, as if they sympathised in the consummation, but in awe rather than in grief.

Angels also receive in golden cups the blood which flows from the wounds of our Saviour. This is a representation which has the authority of some of the most distinguished and most spiritual among the old painters, but it is to my taste particularly unpleasing and unpoetical. Raphael, in an early picture, the only crucifixion he ever painted, thus introduces the angels; and this form of the angelic ministry is a mystical version of the sacrifice of the Redeemer not uncommon in Italian and German pictures of the sixteenth century.

As the scriptural and legendary scenes in which angels form the poetical machinery will be discussed hereafter in detail as separate subjects, I shall conclude these general and preliminary remarks with afew words on the characteristic style in which the principal painters have set forth the angelic forms and attributes.

It appears that, previous to the end of the fourth century, there were religious scruples which forbade the representation of angels, arising perhaps from the scandal caused in the early Church by the worship paid to these supernatural beings, and so strongly opposed by the primitive teachers. We do not find on any of the Christian relics of the first three centuries, neither in the catacombs, nor on the vases or the sarcophagi, any figure which could be supposed to represent what we call an angel. On one of the latest sarcophagi we find little winged figures, but evidently the classical winged genii, used in the classical manner as ornament only.[47]In the second council of Nice, John of Thessalonica maintained that angels have the human form, and may be so represented; and the Jewish doctors had previously decided that God consulted his angels when He said, ‘Let us make man afterourimage,’ and that consequently we may suppose the angels to be like men, or, in the words of the prophet, ‘like unto the similitude of the sons of men.’[48](Dan. x. 16.)

But it is evident that, in the first attempt at angelic effigy, it was deemed necessary, in giving the human shape, to render it as superhuman, as imposing, as possible: colossal proportions, mighty overshadowing wings, kingly attributes, these we find in the earliest figures of angels which I believe exist—the mosaics in the church of Santa Agata at Ravenna (A.D.400). Christ is seated on a throne (as in the early sarcophagi): he holds the Gospel in one hand, and with the left gives the benediction. An angel stands on each side: they have large wings, and bear a silver wand, the long sceptre of the Grecian kings; they are robed in classical drapery, but wear the short pallium (the ‘garb succinct for flight’); their feet are sandaled, as prepared for a journey, and their hair bound by a fillet. Except in the wings and short pallium, they resemble the figures of Grecian kings and priests in the ancient bas-reliefs.

22 Angel (Greek MSS., ninth century)

23A.D.1000.

This was the truly majestic idea of an angelic presence (in contradistinction to the angelicemblem), which, well or ill executed, prevailed during the first ten centuries. In the MS.[49]already referred to as containingsuch magnificent examples of this God-like form and bearing, I selected one group less ruined than most of the others; Jacob wrestling with the angel. The drawing is wonderful for the period, that of Charlemagne; and see how the mighty Being grasps the puny mortal, who was permitted for a while to resist him!—‘He touched the hollow of Jacob’s thigh, and it was out of joint’—the action is as significant as possible. In the original, the drapery of the angel is white; the fillet binding the hair, the sandals, and the wings, of purple and gold.

This lank, formal angel is from the Greco-Italian school of the eleventh century. From the eleventh to the thirteenth century the forms of the angels became, like all things in the thendegraded state of Byzantine Art, merely conventional. They are attired either in the imperial or the sacerdotal vestments, as already described, and are richly ornamented, tasteless and stiff, large without grandeur, and in general ill drawn: as in these figures from Monreale (24).

24 Greek Angels (Cathedral of Monreale. Eleventh century)

On the revival of Art, we find the Byzantine idea of angels everywhere prevailing. The angels in Cimabue’s famous ‘Virgin and Child enthroned’ are grand creatures, rather stern; but this arose, I think, from his inability to express beauty. The colossal angels at Assisi (A.D.1270), solemn sceptred kingly forms, all alike in action and attitude, appeared to me magnificent (30).

In the angels of Giotto (A.D.1310) we see the commencement of a softer grace and a purer taste, further developed by some of his scholars. Benozzo Gozzoli and Orcagna have left in the Campo Santo examples of the most graceful and fanciful treatment. Of Benozzo’s angels in the Riccardi palace I have spoken at length. His master Angelico (worthy the name!) never reached the same power of expressing the rapturous rejoicing of celestial beings, but his conception of the angelic nature remains unapproached, unapproachable (A.D.1430); it is onlyhis, for it was the gentle, passionless, refined nature of the recluse which stamped itself there. Angelico’s angels are unearthly, not so much in form as in sentiment; and superhuman, not in power but in purity. In other hands, any imitation of his soft ethereal grace would become feeble and insipid. With their long robes falling round their feet, and drooping many-coloured wings, they seem not to fly or to walk, but to float along, ‘smooth sliding without step.’ Blessed, blessed creatures! love us, only love us—for we dare not task your soft serene Beatitude by asking you tohelpus!

There is more sympathy with humanity in Francia’s angels: they look as if they could weep, as well as love and sing.

25 Angels (F. Granacci)

Most beautiful are the groups of adoring angels by Francesco Granacci,[50]so serenely tender, yet with a touch of grave earnestness which gives them a character apart: they have the air of guardian angels, who have discharged their trust, and to whom the Supreme utterance has voiced forth, ‘Servant of God, well done!’

The angels of Botticelli are often stiff, and those of Ghirlandajo sometimes fantastic; but in both I have met with angelic countenances and forms which, for intense and happy expression, can never be forgotten. One has the feeling, however, that they used human models—theportraitface looks through theangelface. This is still more apparent in Mantegna and Filippo Lippi. As we might have expected from the character of Fra Filippo, his angels want refinement: they have a boyish look, with their crisp curled hair, and their bold beauty; yet some of them are magnificent for that sort of angel-beings supposed to have a volition of their own. Andrea del Sarto’s angels have the same fault in a less degree: they have, if not a bold, yet a self-willed boyish expression.

Perugino’s angels convey the idea of an unalterable sweetness: those of his earlier time have much natural grace, those of his later time are mannered. In early Venetian Art the angels are charming: they are happy affectionate beings, with a touch of that voluptuous sentiment, afterwards the characteristic of the Venetian school.

In the contemporary German school, angels are treated in a very extraordinary and original style (26). one cannot say that they are earthly, or commonplace, still less are they beautiful or divine; but they have great simplicity, earnestness, and energy of action. They appear to me conceived in the Old Testament spirit, with their grand stiff massive draperies, their jewelled and golden glories, their wings ‘eyed like the peacock, speckled like the pard,’ their intense expression, and the sort of personal and passionate interest they throw into their ministry. This is the character of Albert Dürer’s angels especially; those of Martin Schoen and Lucus v. Leyden are of a gentler spirit.

Leonardo da Vinci’s angels do not quite please me, elegant, refined, and lovely as they are:—‘methinks they smile too much.’ By his scholar Luini there are some angels in the gallery of the Brera, swinging censers and playing on musical instruments, which, with the peculiar character of the Milanese school, combine all the grace of a purer, loftier nature.

Correggio’s angels are grand and lovely, but they are like children enlarged and sublimated, not like spirits taking the form of children: where they smile it is truly, as Annibal Caracci expresses it, ‘con unanaturalezza e semplicità che innamora e sforza a ridere con loro;’ but the smile in many of Correggio’s angel heads has something sublime and spiritual, as well assimpleandnatural.

26 Angel. German School. (Albert Dürer)

And Titian’s angels impress me in a similar manner—I mean those in the glorious Assumption at Venice—with their childish forms and features, but with an expression caught from beholding the face of ‘our Father that is in heaven:’ it is glorified infancy. I remember standing before this picture, contemplating those lovely spirits one after another, until a thrill came over me like that which I felt when Mendelssohn played the organ, and I became music while I listened. The face of one of those angels is to the face of a child just what that of the Virgin in the same picture is compared with the fairest of the daughters of earth: it is not here superiority of beauty, but mind and music and love,kneaded, as it were, into form and colour.

I have thought it singular and somewhat unaccountable, that among the earliest examples of undraped boy-angels are those of Fra Bartolomeo—he who on one occasion, at the command of Savonarola, made a bonfire of all the undressed figures he could lay his hands on.

But Raphael, excelling in all things, is here excellent above all: his angels combine, in a higher degree than any other, the various faculties and attributes in which the fancy loves to clothe these pure, immortal, beatified creatures. The angels of Giotto, of Benozzo, of Fiesole, are, if not female, feminine; those of Lippi, and of A. Mantegna, masculine; but you cannot say of those of Raphael that they are masculine or feminine. The idea of sex is wholly lost in the blending of power, intelligence, and grace. In his earlier pictures grace is the predominant characteristic, as in the dancing and singing angels in his Coronation of the Virgin.[51]In his later pictures the sentiment in his ministering angels is more spiritual, more dignified. As a perfect example of grand and poetical feeling, I may cite the angels as ‘Regents of the Planets,’ in the Capella Chigiana.[52]The cupola represents in a circle the creation of the solar system, according to the theological and astronomical (or ratherastrological) notions which then prevailed—a hundred years before ‘the starry Galileo and his woes.’ In the centre is the Creator; around, in eight compartments, we have, first, the angel of the celestial sphere, who seems to be listening to the divine mandate, ‘Let there be lights in the firmament of heaven;’ then follow, in their order, the Sun, the Moon, Mercury, Venus, Mars, Jupiter, and Saturn. The name of each planet is expressed by its mythological representative; the Sun by Apollo, the Moon by Diana: and over each presides a grand colossal winged spirit seated or reclining on a portion of the zodiac as on a throne. I have selected two angels to give an idea of this peculiar and poetical treatment. The union of the theological and the mythological attributes is in the classical taste of the time, and quite Miltonic.[53]In Raphael’s child-angels, the expression of power andintelligence, as well as innocence, is quite wonderful; for instance, look at the two angel-boys in the Dresden Madonna di San Sisto, and the angels, or celestial genii, who bear along the Almighty when He appears to Noah.[54]No one has expressed like Raphael the action of flight, except perhaps Rembrandt. The angel who descends to crown Santa Felicità cleaves the air with the action of a swallow;[55]and the angel in Rembrandt’s Tobit soars like a lark with upward motion, spurning the earth.

Angels of the Planets from the Capella Chigi.

Michael Angelo rarely gave wings to his angels; I scarcely recollect an instance, except the angel in the Annunciation: and his exaggerated human forms, his colossal creatures, in which the idea of power is conveyed through attitude and muscular action, are, to my taste, worse than unpleasing. My admiration for this wonderful man is so profound that I can afford to say this. His angels are superhuman, but hardly angelic: and while in Raphael’s angels we do not feel the want of wings, we feel while looking at those of Michael Angelo that not even the ‘sail-broad vans’ with which Satan laboured through the surging abyss of chaos could suffice to lift those Titanic forms from earth, and sustain them in mid-air. The group of angels over the Last Judgment, flinging their mighty limbs about, and those that surround the descending figure of Christ in the Conversion of St. Paul, may be referred to here as characteristic examples. The angels, blowing their trumpets, puff and strain like so many troopers. Surely this is not angelic: there may bepower, great imaginative and artistic power, exhibited in the conception of form, but in the beings themselves there is more of effort than of power: serenity, tranquillity, beatitude, ethereal purity, spiritual grace, are out of the question.

The later followers of his school, in their angelic as in their human forms, caricatured their great master, and became, to an offensive degree, forced, extravagant, and sensual.

When we come to the revival of a better taste under the influence of the Caracci, we find the angels of that school as far removed from theearly Christian types as were their apostles and martyrs. They have often great beauty, consummate elegance, but bear the same relation to the religious and ethereal types of the early painters that the angels of Tasso bear to those of Dante. Turn, for instance, to the commencement of theGerusalemme Liberata, where the angel is deputed to carry to Godfrey the behest of the Supreme Being. The picture of the angel is distinctly and poetically brought before us; he takes to himself a form between boyhood and youth; his waving curls are crowned with beams of light; he puts on a pair of wings of silver tipped with gold, with which he cleaves the air, the clouds, the skies; he alights on Mount Lebanon, and poises himself on his balanced wings—

E si librò su l’ adeguate penne.

This is exactly the angel which figures in the best pictures of the Caracci and Guido: he is supremely elegant, and nothing more.

I must not here venture on minute criticism, as regards distinctive character in the crowds of painters which sprung out of the eclectic school. It would carry us too far; but one or two general remarks will lead the reader’s fancy along the path I would wish him to pursue. I would say, therefore, that the angels of Ludovico have more of sentiment, those of Annibal more of power, those of Guido more of grace: and of Guido it may be said that he excels them all in the expression of adoration and humility; see, for instance, the adoring seraphs in Lord Ellesmere’s ‘Immaculate Conception.’ The angels of Domenichino, Guercino, and Albano, are to me less pleasing. Domenichino’s angels are merely human. I never saw an angel in one of Guercino’s pictures that had not, with the merely human character, a touch of vulgarity. As for Albano, how are we to discriminate between his angels and his nymphs, Apollos, and Cupids? But for the occasion and the appellation, it would be quite impossible to distinguish the Loves that sport round Venus and Adonis, from the Cherubim, so called, that hover above a Nativity or a Riposo; and the little angels, in his Crucifixion, cry so like naughty little boys, that one longs to put them in a corner. This merely heathen grace and merely human sentiment is the general tendency of the whole school; and no beauty of form or colour can, to the feeling and religious mind, redeem such gross violations ofpropriety. As for Poussin, of whom I think with due reverence, his angels are often exquisitely beautiful and refined: they have a chastity and a moral grace which pleases at first view; but here again the scriptural type is neglected and heathenised in obedience to the fashion of the time. If we compare the Cupids in his Rinaldo and Armida,with the angels which minister to the Virgin and Child; or the Cherubim weeping in a Deposition, with the Amorini who are lamenting over Adonis; in what respect do they differ? They are evidently painted from the same models, the beautiful children of Titian and Fiamingo.

27 Angels in a Nativity (Seventeenth century)

28 Angel: in a picture of Christ healing the Sick (N. Poussin)

Rubens gives us strong well-built youths, with redundant yellow hair; and chubby naked babies, as like flesh and blood, and as natural, as the life: and those of Vandyck are more elegant, without being more angelic. Murillo’s child-angels are divine, through absolute beauty; the expression of innocence and beatitude was never more perfectly given; but in grandeur and power they are inferior to Correggio, and in all that should characterise a divine nature, immeasurably below Raphael.

Strange to say, the most poetical painter of angels in the seventeenth century is that inspired Dutchman, Rembrandt; not that his angels are scriptural; still less classical; and beautiful they are not, certainly—often the reverse; but if they have not the Miltonic dignity and grace, they are at least as unearthly and as poetical as any of the angelic phantasms in Dante,—unhuman, unembodied creatures, compounded of light and darkness, ‘the somewhat between athoughtand athing,’ haunting the memory like apparitions. For instance, look at his Jacob’s Dream, at Dulwich; or his etching of the Angels appearing to the Shepherds,—breaking through the night, scattering the gloom, making our eyes ache with excess of glory,—theGloria in excelsisringing through the fancy while we gaze!

I have before observed that angels are supposed to be masculine, with the feminine attributes of beauty and purity; but in the seventeenth century the Florentine painter, Giovanni di S. Giovanni, scandalised his contemporaries by introducing into a glory round the Virgin, female angels (angelesse). Rubens has more than once committed the same fault against ecclesiastical canons and decorum; for instance, in his Madonna ‘aux Anges’ in the Louvre. Such aberrations of fancy are mere caprices of the painter, improprieties inadmissible in high art.

Of the sprawling, fluttering, half-naked angels of the Pietro da Cortona and Bernini school, and the feeble mannerists of the seventeenthand eighteenth centuries, what shall be said? that they are worthy to illustrate Moore’s Loves of the Angels? ‘non ragioniam di lor;’ no, nor evenlookat them! I have seen angels of the later Italian and Spanish painters more like opera dancers, with artificial wings and gauze draperies, dressed to figure in a ballet, than anything else I could compare them to.

The most original, and, in truth, the only new and original version of the Scripture idea of angels which I have met with, is that of William Blake, a poet painter, somewhat mad as we are told, if indeed his madness were not rather ‘the telescope of truth,’ a sort of poeticalclairvoyance, bringing the unearthly nearer to him than to others. His adoring angels float rather than fly, and, with their half-liquid draperies, seem about to dissolve into light and love: and his rejoicing angels—behold them—sending up their voices with the morning stars, that ‘singing, in their glory move!’

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