St. Barnabas.

Questi risurgeranno dal sepolcroCol pugno chiuso.These from the tomb with clenchèd grasp shall rise.

Questi risurgeranno dal sepolcroCol pugno chiuso.

Questi risurgeranno dal sepolcro

Col pugno chiuso.

These from the tomb with clenchèd grasp shall rise.

His face is seen in profile, and cast into shadow: without being vulgar, or even ugly, it is hateful. St. Andrew, with his long grey beard, lifts up his hands, expressing the wonder of a simple-hearted old man. St. James Minor, resembling the Saviour in his mild features, and the form of his beard and hair, lays his hand on the shoulder of St. Peter—the expression is, ‘Canit be possible? Have we heard aright?’ Bartholomew, at the extreme end of the table, has risen perturbed from his seat; he leans forward with a look of eager attention, the lips parted; he is impatient to hear more. (The fine copy of Uggione, in the Royal Academy, does not give this anxious look—he is attentive only.) On the left of our Saviour is St. James Major, who has also a family resemblance to Christ; his arms are outstretched, he shrinks back, he repels the thought with horror. The vivacity of the action and expression are wonderfully true and characteristic. (Morghen,the engraver, erroneously supposed this to represent St. Thomas, and placed on the border of his robe an inscription fixing the identity; which inscription, as Bossi asserts, never did exist in the original picture.) St. Thomas is behind St. James, rather young, with a short beard; he holds up his hand, threatening—‘If there be indeed such a wretch, let him look to it.’ Philip, young and with a beautiful head, lays his hand on his heart: he protests his love, his truth. Matthew, also beardless, has more elegance, as one who belonged to a more educated class than the rest; he turns to Jude and points to our Saviour, as if about to repeat his words, ‘Do you hear what he says?’ Simon and Jude sit together (Leonardo has followed the tradition which makes them old and brothers); Jude expresses consternation; Simon, with his hands stretched out, a painful anxiety.

To understand the wonderful skill with which this composition has been arranged, it ought to be studied long and minutely; and, to appreciate its relative excellence, it ought to be compared with other productions of the same period. Leonardo has contrived to break the formality of the line of heads without any apparent artifice, and without disturbing the grand simplicity of the usual order; and he has vanquished the difficulties in regard to the position of Judas, without making him too prominent. He has imparted to a solemn scene sufficient movement and variety of action, without detracting from its dignity and pathos; he has kept the expression of each head true to the traditional character, without exaggeration, without effort. To have done this, to have been the first to do this, required the far-reaching philosophic mind, not less than the excelling hand, of this ‘miracle of nature,’ as Mr. Hallam styles Leonardo, with reference to his scientific as well as his artistic powers.

And now to turn to another miracle of nature, Raphael. He has given us three compositions for the Last Supper. The fresco lately discovered in the refectory of Sant’ Onofrio, at Florence, is an early work painted in his twenty-third year (A.D.1505). The authenticity of this picture has been vehemently disputed; for myself—as far as my opinion is worth anything—I never, after the first five minutes, had adoubt on the subject. As to its being the work of Neri de’ Bicci, I do not believe it possible; and as for the written documents brought forward to prove this, I turn from them ‘to the handwriting on the wall,’ and there I see, in characters of light,Raphael—andhimonly. It is, however, a youthful work, full of sentiment and grace, but deficient, it appears to me, in that depth and discrimination of character displayed in his later works. It is evident that he had studied Giotto’s fresco in the neighbouring Santa Croce. The arrangement is nearly the same.

Christ is in the centre; his right hand is raised, and he is about to speak; the left hand is laid, with extreme tenderness in the attitude and expression, on the shoulder of John, who reclines upon him. To the right of Christ is St. Peter, the head of the usual character; next to him St. Andrew, with the flowing grey hair and long divided beard; St. James Minor, the head declined resembling Christ: he holds a cup. St. Philip is seen in profile with a white beard: (this is contrary to the received tradition, which makes him young; and I doubt the correctness of this appellation). St. James Major, at the extreme end of the table, looks out of the picture; Raphael has apparently represented himself in this apostle. On the left of Christ, after St. John, is St. Bartholomew; he holds a knife, and has the black beard and dark complexion usually given to him. Then Matthew, something like Peter, but milder and more refined. Thomas, young and handsome, pours wine into a cup; last, on the right, are Simon and Jude: Raphael has followed the tradition which supposes them young, and the kinsmen of our Saviour. Judas sits on a stool on the near side of the table, opposite to Christ, and while he dips his hand into the dish he looks round to the spectators; he has the Jewish features, red hair and beard, and a bad expression. All have glories; but the glory round the head of Judas is much smaller than the others.[242]

In the second composition, one of the series of the life of Christ, in the Loggie of the Vatican, Raphael has placed the apostles round a table, four on each of the three sides; our Saviour presiding in the centre. John and Peter, who are, as usual, nearest to Christ, look tohim with an animated appealing expression. Judas is in front, looking away from the rest, and as if about to rise. The other heads are not well discriminated, nor is the moment well expressed: there is, indeed, something confused and inharmonious, unlike Raphael, in the whole composition. I pass it over, therefore, without further remark, to come to the third example—a masterpiece of his later years, worthy as a composition of being compared with Leonardo’s; but, never having been painted, we can only pronounce it perfect as far as it goes. The original drawing enriches the collection of the Queen of England: the admirable engraving of Marc Antonio, said to have been touched by Raphael, is before me while I write. From the disposition of the unshod feet as seen under the table, it is styled by collectors ‘il pezzo dei piedi:’ from the arrangement of the table and figures it was probably designed for a refectory.

In the centre is Christ, with both hands resting on the table; in the head, a melancholy resignation. Peter is on the right, his hand on his breast. John, on the left, places both hands on his breast, with a most animated expression,—‘You cannot believe it is I?’ Andrew has laid his hand on the shoulder of Peter, and leans forward with a sad interrogative expression. The head of Judas has features akin to those of the antique satyr, with the look askance of a detected villain: he has heard the words, but he dares not meet the eye, of his Divine Master: he has no purse. James Minor, next to John, with his hands extended, seems to speak sadly to Philip: ‘And they began to inquire among themselves, which of them should do this thing?’ The whole composition is less dramatic, has less variety of action and attitude, than that of Leonardo, but is full of deep melancholy feeling.

The Cenacolo of Andrea del Sarto, in the Convent of the Salvi near Florence, takes, I believe, the third rank after those of Leonardo and Raphael. He has chosen the self-same moment, ‘One of you shall betray me.’ The figures are, as usual, ranged on one side of a long table. Christ, in the centre, holds a piece of bread in his hand; on his left is St. John, and on his right St. James Major, both seen in profile. The face of St. John expresses interrogation; that of St. James, interrogation and a start of amazement. Next to St. James are Peter,Thomas, Andrew; then Philip, who has a small cross upon his breast. After St. John come James Minor, Simon, Jude, Judas Iscariot, and Bartholomew. Judas, with his hands folded together, leans forward, and looks down, with a round mean face, in which there is no power of any kind, not even of malignity. In passing almost immediately from the Cenacolo in the St. Onofrio to that in the Salvi, we feel strongly all the difference between the mental and moral superiority of Raphael at the age of twenty, and the artistic greatness of Andrea in the maturity of his age and talent. This fresco deserves its high celebrity. It is impossible to look on it without admiration, considered as a work of art. The variety of the attitudes, the disposition of the limbs beneath the table, the ample, tasteful draperies, deserve the highest praise; but the heads are deficient in character and elevation, and the whole composition wants that solemnity of feeling proper to the subject.

The Cenacolo of Titian, painted for Philip II. for the altar of his chapel in the Escurial, is also a notable example of the want of proper reverential feeling: two servants are in attendance; Judas is in front, averting his head, which is in deep shadow; a dog is under the table, and the Holy Ghost is descending from above.

Niccolò Poussin has three times painted the Cenacolo. In the two series of the Seven Sacraments, he has, of course, represented the institution of the Eucharist, as proper to his subject; in both instances, in that pure and classical taste proper to himself. In the best and largest composition, the apostles are reclining on couches round the table. Christ holds a plate full of bread, and appears as saying, ‘Take, eat.’ Four are putting the morsel into their mouths. Judas is seen behind, with an abject look, stealing out of the room.

The faults which I have observed in pictures of this subject are chiefly met with in the Venetian, Flemish, and later Bolognese schools. When themotifselected is the institution of the Eucharist, it is a fault to sacrifice the solemnity and religious import of the scene in order to render it more dramatic: it ought not to be dramatic; but the pervading sentiment should beone, a deep and awful reverence. When Christ is distributing the bread and wine, the apostles should not beconversing with each other; nor should the figures exceed twelve in number, for it appears to me that the introduction of Judas disturbs the sacred harmony and tranquillity of the scene. When themotifis the celebration of the Passover, or the detection of Judas, a more dramatic and varied arrangement is necessary; but here, to make the apostles intent on eating and drinking, as in some old German pictures, is a fault. Even Albano has represented one of the apostles as peeping into an empty wine-pitcher with a disappointed look.

It appears to me, also, a gross fault to introduce dogs and cats, and other animals; although I have heard it observed, that a dog gnawing a bone is introduced with propriety, to show that the supper is over, the Paschal Lamb eaten, before the moment represented.

Vulgar heads, taken from vulgar models, or selected without any regard either to the ancient types, or the traditional character of the different apostles, are defects of frequent occurrence, especially in the older German schools; and in Titian, Paul Veronese, and Rubens, even where the heads are otherwise fine and expressive, the scriptural truth of character is in general sacrificed.

It is a fault, as I have already observed, to represent Judas anxiously concealing the purse.

Holbein, in his famous Last Supper at Basle, and in the small one in the Louvre, has adopted the usual arrangement: the heads all want elevation; but here the attention fixes at once upon Judas Iscariot—the very ideal of scoundrelism—I can use no other word to express the unmitigated ugliness, vulgarity, and brutality of the face. Lavater has referred to it as an example of the physiognomy proper to cruelty and avarice; but the dissimulation is wanting. This base, eager, hungry-looking villain stands betrayed by his own looks: he is too prominent; he is in fact the principal figure;—a fault in taste, feeling, and propriety.

The introduction of a great number of figures, as spectators or attendants, is a fault; excusable, perhaps, where the subject is decorative and intended for the wall of a refectory, but not otherwise. In thecomposition of Paul Veronese, there are twenty-three figures; in that of Zucchero, forty-five; in that of Baroccio, twenty-one. These supernumerary persons detract from the dignity and solemnity of the scene.

Tintoretto has introduced several spectators, and among them an old woman spinning in a corner, who, while she turns her spindle, looks on with an observant eye. This alludes to an early tradition, that the Last Supper was eaten in the house of Mary, the mother of Mark the evangelist. But it is nowhere said that she was present, and therefore it is an impropriety to introduce her. Magnificent architecture, as in the picture by B. Peruzzi (who, by the way, was an architect), seems objectionable: but equally unsuitable is the poor dismantled garret in this picture of Tintoretto; for the chamber in which the scene took place was ‘the guest chamber,’ a large upper room, ready prepared; and as it was afterwards the scene of the Pentecost, it must have held more than a hundred persons.

It is a fault, as I have already observed, to represent John asasleepon the breast or the shoulder of our Saviour.

Though countenanced by the highest authorities in Art, I believe it must be considered as a fault, or at least a mistake, to represent our Saviour and his apostles as seated, instead of reclining round the table. It is a fault, not merely because the use of thetricliniumor couch at all social meals was general in the antique times,—for the custom of sitting upright was not so entirely extinct among the Jews but that it might on any other occasion have been admissible,—but, from peculiar circumstances, it became in this instance an impropriety. We know that when the Passover was first instituted the Jews were enjoined to eat it standing, as men in haste, with girded loins and sandalled feet: but afterwards it was made imperative that they should eat it in an attitude of repose, lying upon couches, and as men at ease; and the reason for this was, that all the circumstances of the meal, and particularly the attitude in which it was eaten, should indicate the condition of security and freedom which the Israelites enjoyed after their deliverance fromthe Egyptian bondage. In the then imperfect state of Biblical criticism, this fact seems to have been unknown to the earlier artists, or disregarded by those who employed and directed them. Among modern artists, Poussin and Le Sueur have scrupulously attended to it, even when the moment chosen is the mystical distribution of the bread and wine which succeeded the Paschal Supper. Commentators have remarked, that if Christ and his disciplesreclinedat table, then, supposing Christ to have the central place of honour, the head of John would have been near to the bosom of Christ: but under these circumstances, if Judas were sufficiently near to receive the sop from the hand of Christ, then he must have reclined next to him on the other side, and have taken precedence of Peter. This supposed a propinquity which the early Christian artists deemed offensive and inadmissible.

In the composition by Stradano the arrangement of the table and figures is particularly well managed: all recline on couches; in the centre of the table is a dish, to which Christ extends his hand, and Judas, who is here rather handsome than otherwise, at the same time stretches forth his; the moment is evidently, ‘He that dippeth with me in the dish, the same shall betray me.’ Two circumstances spoil this picture, and bring it down to the level of the vulgar and the commonplace. In the background is seen a kitchen and the cooking of the supper. Under Judas crouches a hideous demon, with horns, hoof, and tail, visible only to the spectator.

When the Cenacolo represents the Eucharist, it is, perhaps, allowable to introduce angels, because it was, and I believe is, an established belief, that, visible or invisible, they are always present at the Sacrament. The Holy Ghost descending from above is unsanctioned by Scripture, but may serve to mark the mystical and peculiar solemnity of the moment chosen for representation. It may signify, ‘He that receiveth me, receivethHimthat sent me.’ But where angels attend, or where the Spiritual Comforter comes floating down from above, then the presence of Judas, or of any superfluous figures as spectators or servitors, or of dogs or other animals, becomes a manifest impropriety.

The introduction of the Devil in person as tempting Judas is rendered pardonable by the naïveté of the early painters: in the later schools of art it is offensive and ridiculous.

The Cenacolo of Baroccio, painted by order of Clement VIII. (1594), for his family chapel in the Santa Maria-sopra-Minerva, is remarkable for an anecdote relating to it. Baroccio, who was not eminent for a correct taste, had in his first sketch reverted to the ancient fashion of placing Satan close behind Judas, whispering in his ear, and tempting him to betray his Master. The Pope expressed his dissatisfaction,—‘che non gli piaceva il demonio si dimesticasse tanto con Gesù Cristo,’—and ordered him to remove the offensive figure. This is not the last example of the ancient manner of treatment. In the Cenacolo of Franceschini, painted nearly a century later, two angels are attending on the sacred repast, while Judas is in the act of leaving the room, conducted by Satan in person.

It is surely a fault, in a scene of such solemn and sacred import, to make the head of Judas a vehicle for public or private satire, by giving him the features of some obnoxious personage of the time.[243]This, according to tradition, has been done in some instances. Perhaps the most remarkable example that could be cited is the story of Andrea del Castagno, who, after having betrayed and assassinated his friend Domenico Veneziano, painted himself in the character of Judas: a curious instance of remorse of conscience.

Volumes might be written on the subject of the Last Supper. It extends before me, as I think and write, into endless suggestive associations, which, for the present, I dare not follow out: but I shall have occasion to return to it hereafter.[244]

Ital.San Parnabà.Fr.Saint Barnabé. (June 11.)

St. Barnabas is usually entitled theApostleBarnabas, because he was associated with the Apostles in their high calling; ‘and,’ according to Lardner, ‘though without that large measure of inspiration and high authority which was peculiar to theTwelve Apostles, properly so called, yet he is to be considered asApostolical, and next to them in sanctity.’ For this reason I place him here.

St. Barnabas was a Levite, born in the island of Cyprus, and the cousin-german of Mark the evangelist. The notices of his life and character scattered through the Acts invest him with great personal interest. He it was who, after the conversion of Paul, was the first to believe in his sincerity, and took courage to present him to the other apostles, ‘who were afraid of him, and would not believe that he was a disciple.’ (Acts xv. 39.) Barnabas afterwards became the fellow-labourer of Paul, and attended him to Antioch. We are told that ‘he was a good man, full of the Holy Ghost and of faith;’ and to this the legendary traditions add, that he was a man of a most comely countenance, of a noble presence, grave and commanding in his step and deportment; and thence, when he and Paul were at Lystra together, ‘they called Barnabas Jupiter, and Paul Mercurius.’ Subsequently, however, Paul and Barnabas fell into a dispute concerning Mark, and separated. The tradition relates that Barnabas and Mark remained for some time together, being united by the ties of friendship, as well as by those of kindred. Barnabas preached the Gospel in Asia Minor, Greece, and Italy; and there is an old legendary tradition that he was the first bishop of Milan. The legend also relates that everywhere he carried with him the Gospel of St. Matthew, written by the hand of the evangelist, preaching what was written therein; and when any were sick, or possessed, he laid the sacred writing upon their bosom, and they were healed; (a beautiful allegory this!) and it happened that as he preached in a synagogue of Judea against the Jews, they were seized with fury and took him, and put him to a cruel death. But Mark and the other Christians buried him with many tears.

The body of St. Barnabas remained in its place of sepulture till the days of the Emperor Zeno, when, according to Nicephorus, it was revealed in a dream to Antemius, that the apostle rested in a certain spot, and would be found there, with the Gospel of St. Matthew lying on his bosom. And so it happened: the remains were found; the Gospel was carried to the emperor at Constantinople; and a church was built, dedicated to St. Barnabas.

It is, I presume, in consequence of his being the kinsman of St. Mark, that Barnabas is more popular at Venice than elsewhere, and that devotional figures of him are rarely found except in Venetian pictures. He is represented as a man of majestic presence, holding in his hand the Gospel of St. Matthew, as in a fine picture by Bonifazio; in his church at Venice he is represented over the high altar, throned as bishop, while St. Peter stands below.

He often occurs in subjects taken from the Acts and the life of St. Paul. In the scene in which he presents Paul to the other apostles, he is the principal personage; but in the scene at Paphos, where Elymas is struck blind, and at Lystra, he is always secondary to his great companion.

84 Angel (Albert Dürer)v.p. 79.

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