THE BOOK OF THE CARTOONS. THE ENGRAVINGS BY WARREN. Digitized by the Internet Archive in 2017 with funding from Getty Research Institute https://archive.org/details/bookofraphaelscaOOcatt 4 H A F F.A:F L I-; S A IT Z 1 0 . THE BOOK OF RAPHAEL’S CARTOONS. BY R. CATTERMOLE. ILLUSTRATED BY HIGHLY FINISHED ENGRAVINGS ON STEEL. HAMPTON COURT. LONDON: HENRY G. BOHN, YORK STREET, COVENT GARDEN MDCCCXLV. The reader of the following pages is requested to hear in mind, that they were not composed with exclusive reference to the present set of Prints ; the limited size of which did not admit of all the precision and minuteness of detail, necessary to support the propriety of some of the Author’s remarks. It is hoped, however, that the work will not, on that account, prove less acceptable to the public. Written with a con- stant view to the Cartoons themselves, it will, the author believes, be found useful and illustrative, in proportion to the excellence of whatever engraved or other copies may be be- fore the reader during its perusal ; but its pretensions to that character can be best determined by those who have access to, or at least a distinct recollection of, the sublime originals. Cartoon I. — Page 25. THE MIRACULOUS DRAUGHT OF FISHES. Cartoon II. — Page 47. THE CHARGE TO PETER. Cartoon III. — Page 81. PETER AND JOHN HEALING THE LAME MAN. Cartoon IV. — Page 101. THE DEATH OF ANANIAS. Cartoon V. — Page 123. ELTMAS THE SORCERER STRUCK BLIND. Cartoon VI. — Page 141. PAUL AND BARNABAS AT LTSTRA. Cartoon YII. — Page 165. PAUL PREACHING AT ATHENS. INTRODUCTOEY REMARKS. Wonderful, and almost miraculous, as were the energies which the human mind displayed in Europe during the first half of the sixteenth cen- tury, that prodigious development of moral and intellectual resources was not independent of dis- coverable causes, and successive stages of prepara- tion. The traces of such preparatory steps we may find in the state of religion, of literature, of com- merce, and all the active concerns of life ; but in no field of mental exertion are they more manifest than in that which, at this period of universal reno- vation was, perhaps, more zealously and successfully cultivated than any other — the department of the Fine Arts, and, especially. Painting. Several artists had already appeared, who not only obtained the admiration of their own and the imme- diately succeeding ages, but have left behind them B 6 INTRODUCTORY REMARKS. names that will not cease to be mentioned with re- spect. The first Christian school of art arose in Florence. In that city, at the commencement of the fourteenth century, died Cimabue, the father of modem painting. He was succeeded by Giotto, whose improved style became the model of the times which ensued, till the appearance of Masaccio, who, a hundred years later, carried the art far beyond the point it had previously reached. Masaccio’s reputa- tion remained, in its turn, without a rival down to the period of Lionardo da Vinci, one of the most accomplished of painters; whose exquisite works ap- pear as the connecting link between the old and the new, or most perfect style, before the bondage of the dry. Gothic manner was wholly burst, and the free and vigorous spirit of the most generally fascinating of the imaginative arts “ scaled the highest heaven of invention,” in the person of Michelangiolo Buonaroti. This was a period most fortunate for the art of painting, whether we regard the external advantages of the time, in the progress of discovery and accessory knowledge, and in the eager patronage of the power- ful and enlightened; or its internal, in the accumu- lated experience of many generations, which had INTRODUCTORY REMARKS. 7 left instructive traces of its progress, even as far as to the limits of the utmost attainable point — the combi- nation of the greatest genius with the purest taste, and the connection of a thorough mastery over the re- sources of the art with a sobriety and temperance which forbade their abuse. And at this period it was that the illustrious individual appeared, to whom, as possessing, in the highest degree and in a most har- monious union, the qualities necessary to a great ar- tist, the world has agreed to assign the first honours in this delightful province of the realms of intellect. Raffaelle Sanzio was bom in the city of Urbino, in Italy, in the year 1483. His earliest master, if we except his father, Giovanni Sanzio, or di Santi, was Pietro of Perugia, a painter of no inconsidera- ble ability, but in the hard dry manner which pre- vailed before the time of Lionardo and Michelan- giolo. At the age of sixteen he left Pietro, and worked with Pinturrichio, an eminent artist in his day, at Siena. Attracted by the reputation of Lionardo and Michelangiolo, who presided over the flourish- ing school of Florence, he repaired to that city ; and being, by the study of their sublime productions, in a short time emancipated from the restraints of his previous education, he quickly produced pictoes B 2 8 INTRODUCTORY REMARKS. which determined his place in the first ranks of his profession, and made his name familiar in the Italian capital. Thither, invited by Julius II., he himself proceeded in the year 1508, and was immediately employed to paint one of the chambers in the Vatican palace, which that magnificent pontifi* was ambitious to adorn with, the utmost taste and splendour. From this period commenced the execution of those works of “ the divine Raftkelle” which have en- gaged the admiration and exalted the minds of every subsequent generation. The apartments assigned for his labours in the pontifical residence, now called the stanze (chambers) of Ratfaelle, are four in number ; and the magnificent design of the artist was, to represent, in a grand series, upon the com- partments of those chambers, the universal triumph of Christianity — its divine authority, its connec- tion with science and learning, and the supremacy of its dominion over the mind of man and external nature. Ratfaelle was occupied on the paintings in the se- cond when Pope Julius died, and was succeeded by Leo X. As might have been anticipated, the favorw and esteem in which the prince of painters was held INTRODUCTORY REMARKS. 9 in the court and capital of Rome were increased, rather than diminished, by the accession of a pontiff whose enlightened patronage of the fine arts has, notwithstanding the corrupt methods in which it was exercised, secured for his name an honourable place in history. Raffaelle continued to devote his chief attention to the completion of his great labour ; but in the meantime he found leisure for the execution of a variety of other works. Besides the Cartoons, which are among the maturest fruits of his genius, he painted, in another room of the Vatican, twelve whole-length figures of the apostles, and made de- signs for the pictures and ornaments in the loggie (or arcades) of that palace. The pope did not, how- ever, wholly monopolize his wonderful abilities. He painted, at intervals, the fable of Galatea, and the story of Cupid and Psyche, for the Chigi Palace ; the frescoes of the Prophets and Sybils in the Church della Pace ; and also many altar-pieces, and pictoes of Holy Families, which now enrich a multitude of collections throughout Europe. Among the latest, if not the last of all the productions of his pencil, was the sublime picture of the Transfiguration, so well known from the numerous engravings which have been made from it. 10 INTRODUCTORY REMARKS. Like the immortal artists of Greece, the painters of that unrivalled era were accustomed to unite with their more peculiar pursuit the practice of the kin- dred arts. On the death of Bramante, his relation, one of those architects under whom the building of St. Peter’s had successively been carried on, Raffaelle was appointed to that office. What parts of this superb edifice were erected by him cannot now be ascertained: acknowledged specimens, however, of his architectural talents still exist, both at Rome and at Florence. He likewise left proofs of the greatness and imiversality of his genius in the sister art of sculpture. It was in the unabated (and, judging from his age, though not from the perfection of the results, we might believe the scarcely matured) vigour of those extraor- dinary faculties which enabled him to distinguish himself in all these branches of inventive art, and in painting in particular, to reach a height of excel- lence unattained by any other individual of modern, or, probably, of ancient times; and while enjoying the universal love and respect of the gifted and the great among his contemporaries, both of his own and foreign countries, not as an artist merely, but for his INTRODUCTORY REMARKS. 11 many amiable dispositions and general accomplish- ments, — that death removed RafFaelle from the sphere of his triumphs. He expired in 1520, just as he had completed his thirty-seventh year. Among other ingenious pursuits connected ’with the Fine Arts, the weaving of tapestry had at this period been brought to great perfection. One of the latest and maturest productions of Raffaelle’s pencil was a series of designs, on which he was employed by Leo X., representing the principal events recorded in the New Testament, and in- tended to be executed in the best style of that brilliant manufacture, as a farther decoration of the hall of Constantine, one of the chambers already adorned by his hand. These designs must have been made within the last two years of the great artist’s brief but glorious career. Their number, long unknown, or matter of dispute, is now ascertained to have been no less than twenty-five.* The most celebrated * The following, which is believed to be a correct list, is the result of the collation of two, given by the Rev. W. Gunn, in his “ Cartonensia,” (to which work the compiler of the present sum- mary notice is likewise indebted for many other particulars ;) one from the publication entitled “ Descrizione delle Capelle,” &c. containing an account of the ceremonies of the Church 12 INTRODUCTORY REMARKS. tapestry works then in existence were at Brussels. Thither the Cartoons (as they are called, from being executed on paper or pasteboard, cartoiie) were sent, as soon as finished, to be woven under the direc- tion of Bernard Van Orlay and Michael Coxis, both of them skilful artists, who, with many others, had been employed under Raffaelle, at Rome. of Rome ; the other, from the “ Descrizione di Roma e suoi contorni,” &c. by Carlo Fea. 1. The Nativity of Christ. 2. The Adoration of the Magi. 3. 4, 5. The Slaughter of the Innocents. 6. The Presentation of Christ in the Temple. 7- The Miraculous Draught of Fishes. 8. The Charge to Peter. 9. Christ’s Descent into Hell. 10. The Resurrection. 11. Our Lord’s Appearance to Mary. 12. The Supper at Emmaus. 13. The Ascension. 14. The Descent of the Holy Ghost 15. The Martyrdom of St. Stephen. 16. The Conversion of St. Paul. 17 . Paul and Barnabas at Lystra. 18. Paul preaching at Athens. 19. The Death of Ananias. 20. Elymas the Sorcerer struck blind. 21. The Earthquake. 22. St. Peter healing the Cripple. 23. 24. Symbolical subjects relating to Leo X. 25. Justice. INTRODUCTORY REMARKS. 13 After the tapestries were finished and sent home, the originals, for some reason which can now be only conjectured, seem to have lain neglected in the warehouse of the manufacturers. The proba- bility, however, is, that both Ralfaelle and his patron, Leo, had died in the interim. The latter was suc- ceeded by Adrian VI., who, though a scholar and a man of exemplary moral character, was either indif- ferent to the arts which had shed lustre on the pon- tificate of his predecessor, or wholly occupied with the difficult political and ecclesiastical affairs of the period. Whatever may have been the cause of the extraordinary neglect of these immortal productions, the fact appears certain. Of the twenty-five Cartoons, seven of the smaller size (for they were of different dimensions) were pur- chased by Charles the First, at the suggestion, it is said, of Rubens ; and have happily remained in this country through every subsequent change. That tasteful and munificent sovereign determined to em- ploy them as originally intended: five of them, if not the entire number, were delivered, for hangings to be woven fi*om them, to Francis Cleyne, an artist whom King James had placed at the head of the tapestry works established by him at Mortlake. 14 INTRODUCTORY REMARKS. When the Royal Collections were sold in 1649, Cromwell, already in possession of the palaces of the kings of England, became the purchaser of the Car- toons, the most precious of their ornaments, for 300Z., the sum at which they were appraised by the Council of State. The standard of public taste and knowledge in art must have sunk very low, when the mere name of Raffaelle could not secure for this unrivalled series a more considerable sum ; unless, indeed, the known wish of Cromwell to possess them prevented com- petition. The fact, no doubt, was, that the greater part of those who would otherwise have gladly be- come purchasers, at a price more proportioned to the merit of the works, had, by recent events, been de- prived of the means ; and that the party into whose hands the power and wealth of the country had been transferred were not inclined to dispose of their riches in this way. Nothing further was known respecting the Car- toons, till the time of William III., when they were found carelessly packed in boxes, having been cut into pieces for that purpose. Being in a very damaged state, the king, with a commendable, but injudicious zeal for their preservation, ordered them, with other pictures in the Royal Collection, to be INTRODUCTORY REMARKS. 15 repaired : the artist to whose hand they were con- signed for that purpose was William Cook. King Wilham built the gallery at Hampton Court for their reception; where they remained uiidistmbed till the year 1764, when they wwe removed to Buckingham House. From Buckingham House they were, in 1787, transferred to Windsor; but in the year 1814 were restored to King William’s Gallery, at Hampton Court, which they now occupy. The tapestry imitations of their illustrious master’s designs, executed by Van Orlay and Coxis, had not been long placed in the Vatican, when they were carried away, in the sack of Rome, by Bourbon’s army, in the year 1526 ; but were restored during the pontificate of Julius III. by the Duke of Montmo- renci, as is attested by an inscription upon the borders of the tapestries, numbered 6 and 9, in the preceding note.* From this time they appear to have been kept secluded from view in the guar- daroha, or wardrobe, of the popes, except on cer- tain solemn occasions, when they were exhibited * Urbe capta partem aulseorum a prsedonibus distractormn Conmestabilis Anna Montmorencius, Gallise mibtuin prmfectus, restaurandam atqne Julio III. P. M. restituandam curavit. 16 INTRODUCTORY REMARKS. for the admiration of the assembled people. The annual custom of suspending them in the great portico of St. Peter’s, on the festival of Corpus Christi, was first introduced in the reign of Paul IV. Another occasion on which they were exhibited was at the beatification of a Romish saint, (or the solemn an- nouncement that he is enrolled in heaven), a cere- mony which always precedes his canonization. The period during which they were exposed to public view before St. Peter’s was three days ; after which they were hung up in an apartment within the Vati- can for a few days more, before being again con- signed to the usual receptacle. This continued to be the custom till the invasion of Italy by the French, in 1798, when they became part of the plunder of the conquerors.* Being, however, restored to the Vatican by purchase in 1814, the annual exhibition, on the feast of Corpus Christi, has been resumed, and, instead of the former limited display, they are now constantly open to public inspection in the chamber of Pope Pius V. * They were sold, with other objects of spoliation, to a Jew at Leghorn, by whom one was destroyed for the sake of the gold and silver threads worked into the fabric ; this was the Descent into Hades, and is the only one now wanting to the set. The others were re-purchased for 13,000 crowns, and sent back to Pius VII. INTRODUCTORY REMARKS. 17 The Cartoons at Hampton Court have been seve- ral times copied. Soon after their arrival in England, Francis Cle^me (already mentioned as the artist em- ployed to superintend the royal manufactory at Mort- lake) executed beautiful copies of them on a small scale, highly finished, with a pen. Cooke, whom King William III. employed to put in order the Royal Collection, made copies of them in turpen- tine oil, in the manner of distemper, a way which he invented.” Sir James Thornhill, indefatigable in w^hatever related to Raffaelle, employed three years on a set of copies the size of the originals, which were lately in the great room of the Royal Academy, having- been presented to that body by the late Duke of Bedford, in 1800. Sir James likewise executed a smaller set, of one fourth the dimensions of the ori- ginal pictures : where these latter are preserved is not known. There is a third set in the Picture Gal- lery at Oxford, which was given to the University by his Grace the Duke of Marlborough. The only artist who has engraved the entire series is Sommereau ; his plates are on a small scale, and in a style painfully minute : they are now rare. Michell Sorello, a native of Spain, is also said to have undertaken the complete series, but he does 18 INTRODUCTORY REMARKS. not appear to have actually engraved more than eight. Of the engravers who have employed their talents upon these noble monuments of the great era of paint- ing, in our own country, the first was Gribelin, whose work is on too contracted a scale to convey any just idea of the originals. After him came Dorigny, who, having already produced successful prints of the Cupid and Psyche in the gallery of the Famese Palace, at Pome, and of the Transfiguration, was invited over by some English travellers, admirers of his performances, to engrave the Hampton Court Cartoons. He commenced the work in 1711, under the patronage of the queen, being assisted for a time by Charles Dupuis and Claude Dubose; and on its completion, in 1719, he had the honour of knighthood conferred on him by George I. It may, without hesitation, be asserted, that Dorigny’s are still the best engravings that have been executed from these inestimable performances, notwithstanding the more careful labours of the late respected and inge- nious Mr. Holloway, and his able coadjutors. For though Dorigny’s prints may occasionally fall below those of his modem rivals, in accuracy of outline, as they unquestionably do in elaborate nicety of INTRODUCTORY REMARKS. 19 finish, yet they are superior in regard to the expres- sion of that exquisite freedom of handling, which dis- tinguishes those parts at least of the originals which were actually executed by the pencil of RafTaelle. After the publication of Dorigny’s, his assistant, Dubose, likewise produced a set of prints from the Cartoons, of considerable merit, on a scale between that of Dorigny and the miniature size of Gribelin. Respecting the fate of the larger number of the original Cartoons, little is known. Two are said to be in the possession of the King of Sardinia ; and in a note to the Siena edition of Vasari’s Life of Rafiaelle, we are told, that towards the close of the seventeenth century, portions of five others were brought into England from Flanders ; and, early in the eighteenth century, a considerable fragment of another, “the Murder of the Innocents.” This picture was ori- ginally di\dded into three parts, apparently under the direction of RaffaeUe himself. Portions of it (the note continues to inform us) came into the hands of the elder Richardson, whose writings on art tended so much to produce a just estimate of the im- portance of the Cartoons, in the mind of the English public. At the sale of his large collection they were dispersed. Mr. Gunn informs us that two fragments •20 INTRODUCTORY REMARKS. were in the possession of Flaxman ; and that he presented one of them, a single head, said to have belonged to the Cartoon of the “ Murder of the In- nocents,” to Mr. Saunders, of Bath. This was pro- bably the same fragment which came into the posses- sion of the late Mr. Prince Hoare, and which he bequeathed by his will to the Foundling Flospital, where it is now deposited. In the year 1824, nine pieces of tapestry, woven from Raffaelle’s Cartoons, were publicly exhibited in London. The subjects were those of the seven now at Hampton Court, and of two others, viz. the Con- version of St. Paul, and the Stoning of St. Stephen. Their existence has been thus explained. Two entire sets of the Cartoons were originally wrought in tapes- try ; the one being sent to Rome, and the other, of which the specimens exhibited formed a part, was presented by Leo X. to our Henry VIII., by whom it was hung up in the Banqueting Room, at Whitehall. Another account says, that this set was purchased by Henry from the Venetians. It would appear, at least, to be certain that these hangings came over to England in the reign of that monarch ; that they continued to be the property of our kings until the sale of King Charles’s effects, after his death, and were INTRODUCTORY REMARKS. 21 then purchased, with other works of art, by Don Alonzo de Cardenas, the Spanish ambassador. At the decease of this nobleman, the tapestries devolved to the house of Alva, and remained among its pos- sessions until sold by the Duke of Alva, in 1824, to Mr. Tupper, British consul in Spain. After being exhibited during several months, they are said to have been then purchased by a foreigner, and once more conveyed to the continent. It were needless to lament the loss to this country of such imperfect copies of the great originals. The distinction between the fine and mechanical arts ought carefully to be observed ; the best tapestry is only a handsome kind of furniture, and ought not to be confounded, as it is apt to be, in its nature and object with pictures; which it never can rival, either in accuracy of outline, or, still less, in that peculiar charm, resulting from the actual touch of the master’s hand, which distinguishes an original picture from a copy, of whatever kind, but especially from a copy produced by means exclusively mechanical. Nevertheless, it is desirable that the best and most legitimate kind of imitations of the incomparable Cartoons, viz. engravings, carefully, but freely and c • 2*2 INTRODUCTORY REMARKS. feelingly executed, should be dispersed as widely as possible ; not only for the use of those to whom circumstances deny the opportunity of seeing the pictures themselves, but as an agreeable medium whereby the taste of all persons, not yet familiar with the grand simplicity of the greatest works, may be so disciplined, that they may be enabled to under- stand and enjoy them. Such works can never them- selves become strictly popular. The Cartoons do not, in general, at first view delight the spectator, or extort unthinking admiration by superficial and alluring beauties. Without any of the obvious artifices of arrangement — without striking brilliancy of colour, or violent contrasts of light and shade — without ex- travagance or exaggeration of any kind — they are calculated to disappoint those who seek nothing further in this highly intellectual art than the mere gratification of the eye ; while into the mind even of the patient and reflective student, a sense of their supreme excellence only finds its way by de- grees : commencing in something like a chill of sur- prise, that to performances of such a sober charac- ter the first place in the first rank of the art should have been assigned, but increasing in brightness by its own light, as it proceeds, it can scarcely, never- theless, stop short, in such a mind, of an ardent and INTRODUCTORY REMARKS. 23 affectionate though calm admiration. It ought to be remembered, in order to form a just estimate of the Cai’toons, that they were intended as patterns to be worked after, not for the usual purpose of finished pictures ; for which reason they were not executed in oils, but in distemper, a method which never can rival oil-painting in richness and mellowness of effect. Time also has evidently altered the tints, in many parts : yet the colouring is, upon the whole, pleasing and consistent with the gravity of the sub- jects. When it is considered that more than three hundred years have passed over them, of what perish- able materials they are executed, and that they have been, besides, exposed to neglect and ill usage, it is surprising that so much of their first freshness remains. It is not, however, by rules de- rived from schools in which powerful or harmoni- ous colouring, and the skilful arrangement of what is called effect, are chiefly prized, that Raffaelle is to be judged. Even in the beauty of individual figures, and in anatomical accuracy of drawing — though great in these — he has, no doubt, been ex- celled. Higher merits are claimed for him ; and, in particular, as the painter of the Cartoons : — facility and propriety of invention, the most admira- ble skill in composition and grouping — above all. 24 INTRODUCTORY REMARKS. appropriateness of expression. Among his excel- lencies are particularly to be noted the variety and noble air of the heads, their exquisite individualiza- tion, without the sacrifice of any portion of the ideal or historical character, and the remarkable beauty and expressiveness (if the term may be so applied) of the drapery. That quality, however, which has en- titled Raffaelle to be justly regarded as one in the first rank of minds most highly gifted by the Creator, is the uniform subordination, in these works, of the means to the end — the predominance of the intellec- tual and permanent over the sensual and the conven- tional. We behold in him, not only the Italian of the sixteenth century, but the contemporary and denizen of all enlightened times and Christian lands — not the painter merely, but the historian, the poet, the philo- sopher, the ennobling expounder of human character and emotions in their universal elements ! Of the seven Cartoons in the National Collection, only two relate to events in the personal history of our Saviour ; the other five being all illustrative of occurrences in the lives of the apostles, after his ascension. The whole are given in this work, in the chronological order of the respective subjects repre- sented. Till'- MIRACULOUS DRAUGHT OF FISHES. CARTOON I. THE MIRACULOUS DRAUGHT OF FISHES. Luke, v. 1 — 10 . CARTOON I. THE MIRACULOUS DRAUGHT OF FISHES. The first historical event in the revelation of the gos- pel by our Saviour, was his appearance to be inau- gurated in his great office by receiving the initiative rite of baptism at the hands of his herald, John — until that time he was not formally invested with its functions. Immediately afterwards he proceeded to exercise his ministry, in both its parts: he pro- claimed the doctrines of the new dispensation ; and, by a variety of miraculous works, gave proof of his personal divinity. But, in order that the seed of the Christian faith might be so planted as to take sure root, and become fruitful, something more was needed than the efforts of a single preacher, though supported and con- 28 MIRACULOUS DRAUGHT OF FISHES. firmed by miracles, and followed by the most extra- ordinary immediate effects. It was necessary to lay the foundation of a Church, by selecting and detaching from secular pursuits a society of individuals fit for the office of permanent teachers, and retaining them about the person of the Saviour, till, having become thoroughly imbued with the principles of evangelical truth, they should be able in turn to instruct others in the work. The design being no less than a complete uni- versal religious revolution, — to supersede among the Jews the system to which that people was attached by the strongest national and individual feelings, and wholly to subvert the enormous edifice of paganism, supported by the wealth, defended by the power, and adorned by the arts, learning, and philosophy of all the other nations of the world, — it might have been expected that its Author would seek to ally himself for the promotion of so mighty an undertaking with the rich, the powerful, and the intelligent. How very different was the course pursued by our Saviour, is sufficiently intimated in the subject of this delineation ; nor could anything more strongly denote his confidence in the Divine support, than the adoption of such a course. MIRACULOUS DRAUGHT OF FISHES. 29 The Saviour had been addressing a multitude by the sea, or lake, of Gennesareth, when, desirous to avoid the pressm’e of the throng, and observing two small fishing-boats lying at the water’s edge, he en- tered one of them, and besought the owner of it to push out a little fi-om the land, that he might from thence continue his instructions with greater conve- nience. The vessel he had entered belonged to two brothers, Peter and Andrew, to whom he had some time previously made himself known. When his discomrse w^as concluded, he desired Peter to go out into deep water, and let down his nets to fish. Peter respectfully obeyed, although he had already been' fishing the whole night previous without catching anything, and could therefore have no reason to anti- cipate success in a farther attempt. On this occa- sion, however, so many fishes were taken, that not only the boat of Andrew and Peter, but the other likewise, which belonged to James and John, the sons of Zebedee, whom the former now called to their assistance, was so filled as to be in danger of sinking. The whole party were struck with astonish- ment at the miracle ; but especially Peter ; who, at all times disposed to feel, and to express his feelings, with warmth and earnestness, and now awed and somewhat temfied by the presence of a person en- 30 MIRACULOUS DRAUGHT OF FISHES. dowed with supernatural power, fell on his knees at the feet of Jesus, and said, Depart from me ; for I am a sinful man, O Lord ! ” But Jesus, to encourage him, replied, in terms easily intelligible to one of his occupation, Fear not: from this time forth thou shalt catch men.” — Such is the subject of this Car- toon : the moment represented is evidently that, when Peter’s exclamation has been uttered, and our Lord is commencing his reply. The treatment of the sub- ject by that great artist whose heart was profoundly responsive to the harmonies of truth and nature, is both in strict accordance with the immediate circum- stances, and indicative of the object designed in the event. Raffaelle was, in this instance, limited by the facts of the history to a smaller number of figures than in any other of the series ; he has, nevertheless, found means within these confined limits, to indicate all the various emotions necessary to convey a complete impression of the event. A part of the peculiarly striking effect produced, is indeed owing to this paucity of the characters, each in particular being the more distinctly individualized, and more deeply stamped on the spectator’s mind: the extraneous accompaniments — in the painter’s phrase, “ the ac- MIRACULOUS DRAUGHT OF FISHES. 31 cessaries” — are likewise, both in the foreground and in the distance, calculated in the highest degree to aid in producing the result designed. Before the spectator’s eye, is spread the calm sur- face of the lake, which, stretching its waters to the distant elevated horizon, appears well entitled to its more usual appellation of a “ sea.” Over that part of the expanse into which the small fishing-barques have been brought, is diffused a sentiment of solitariness and serenity. A mild and uniform light falls from the untroubled sky. The water is distobed only by the ripple which the action of hauling up the net occasions, and by the sudden escape of one or two of its mute captives. The immediate foreground, a lonely point of the beach, strewed with sea-shells, and overgrown with aquatic plants, affords a retreat “ Wliere winds with reeds and osiers whispering play,” * to several wild-looking gigantic water-fowl of the crane kind, whom the near neighbourhood of human visitors scarcely disturbs from the pursuit of their prey. Birds of different species are seen at inter- vals, disporting themselves or seeking their food on the remoter surface of the water, or in the serene Paradise Regained. S2 MIRACULOUS DRAUGHT OF FISHES. air : all nature seems hushed, as if in expectation of some great event. The figure, which from the energy of its action, and the intensity of its expression, perhaps, first attracts regard, is that of Peter : to pursue the proper order and gradation of interest, however, we must begin with the representation of the Divine Saviour, the chief both in moral and graphic importance, and that on which the eye, after the first glance, fixes with the greatest complacency and delight. The picturesque and unscrupulous character of the Romish religion has allowed, without censure, the pictorial representation of God, as the Father — the I AM, the Primal Fount of Deity. From making this attempt, if a reflective piety had not pre- vented it, the hand of the artist ought to have been deterred by the palpable inadequacy of his mind and materials to embody that awful and abysmal idea. Or, if he had ventured to depict the Jehovah of the Old Testament, he ought not to have essayed to do it, as it frequently has been done, under the form of an ancient man — a form which, however venerable, could, within the limits of our conception, or at least w ithin the representative powers of art, ascend no MIRACULOUS DRAUGHT OF FISHES. 33 higher in the condensed expression of mingled power and benignity (the nearest embodyment of the idea, if any may be termed near) than the point reached by the Greek sculptors in their Jupiter. At the least, adopting the theological dogma of the fathers, that Jesus Christ is, properly, in the etymological sense of the term, the person of God— God making himself visible and acting as a man among men ; that for this purpose he was man (homo puhlicus) in the union of himself to human nature in the abstract, long before he became historically a man by his in- carnation ; and that hence he was in person Jehovah, and frequently appeared to divinely favoured indivi- duals, under the old dispensation— on which occasions he is called sometimes an Angel,” “ the Angel of the Lord”— -sometimes merely a man” ; — the Su- preme Being, if represented bodily at all, should have been represented with the appearance usually termed angelic — as a man in the bloom of immortal youth and vigour. There is no relation — there is, on the contrary, an absolute incongruity-— between the idea of eternity and the idea of age : that such re- lation exists is an illusion probably imparted to the mind by the use of the term Father, to denote the absolute underived Godhead. It is evident, how- ever, that the term implies, in this case, accord- 34 MIRACULOUS DRAUGHT OF FISHES. ing to right reason and orthodox divinity, no notion of seniority; there being no conceivable distinc- tion in this respect betw^een the Father and the Son — between the Fountain Light of Being and the Eternal Emanation from his bosom. Nevertheless, such is the daring fashion in that church ; and, as peculiarly common in the times of Ralfaelle, it was adopted by him. Had the practice been allowable in any artist, it might have been excused in the son of Sanzio — the union of divine grandeur and infinite benevolence was as much within the scope of his powers, as within those of any artist that ever lived ; consequently, if any may be said to have succeeded in an attempt which must ever defy human powers and natural means, we may award the praise to him. There is wonderful beauty and sublimity in some of the representations of this description, in the sub- jects from the Old Testament, done from Raffaelle’s designs, on the compartments of the loggie of the Vatican. Still it is impossible to contemplate with entire satisfaction such of these awful delineations even as have proceeded from his inspired pencil. Not so, in his representations of the Incarnate God — the Eternal, the Infinite, veiled beneath the final and finite. In the individual Divine Man, MIRACULOUS DRAUGHT OF FISHES. 35 the artist is supplied with a type, the existence of which withdraws all impropriety from the attempt ; and if it be objected, that he has failed adequately to depict the Godhead, we answer-— to do so was not his object. He penetrates not below the covering of humanity, which hides the Omnipotent from mortal view. If upon its surface he can trace some faint touches of the latent glory, he attains not only all that he is warranted in attempting, but, perhaps, all which in reality the human form of the Son of God, during his residence on earth, itself dis- played. The “ Christs” of Raifaelle are, upon the whole, more successful than those of any other artist : with reference to the above view of what is required, they may be regarded, perhaps, as perfect. The exquisite figure before the reader will justify this assertion. In both the action and form of our Saviour, we dis- cover the usual felicity of the artist’s genius. The divine composure of Omnipotence exercising autho- rity over nature, could scarcely be better expressed than in that simple and graceful postiue in which he is seated, — in the countenance radiant with be- nignity,— in the lips, which, by their movement and their form, appear employed in modulating a voice 3 () MIRACULOUS DRAUGHT OF FISHES. replete with sweet and gentle, yet powerful expres- sion, — in that hand which wields the elements, grace- fully raised in accordance with the words whereby he moderates the emotions of the agitated apostle. The character of the form and features, and even the drapery of Christ, are finely contrasted with those of his merely human companions. The head is in the most graceful style of masculine beauty : the delicate texture and flowing lines of the hair and beard harmonize delightfully with the sweetness and purity of every other part — even in these the divine superiority of the Friend of mankind is distinctly expressed — The man that shines as bright as God — not so, For God he is himself, that close lies under That man, — so close, that no time can dissunder That bond ; yet not so close, but from him break Such beams as mortal eyes are all too weak Such sight to see — or it, if they should see, to speak. His hair in small curls did twine. As though it were the shadow of some light ; And, underneath, his face, as day, did shine — But sure the day shined not half so bright ; Under his lovely locks, her head to shroud. Did meek Humility herself grow proud : — Hither, to light their lamps, did all the graces crowd. Giles Fletcher. MIRACULOUS DRAUGHT OF FISHES. 37 Next appears Peter — the strong and ill-considered exclamation, “ Depart from me!” has just escaped his lips, and he remains on his knees, his hands up- lifted and his body bent towards Jesus. His counte- nance expresses mingled wonder, humility, awe, and adoration of a Being, whom, as manifestly more than human, he deems it dangerous for a mere mortal to converse with, or look upon. In the whole air and attitude of the figure, is denoted that precipitate tem- perament which caused this apostle to place himself foremost on all occasions--- at least, till his deplorable failm'es subdued his forwardness, and the more cul- tivated endowments of St. Paul eclipsed the ardour of his zeal. We here see Peter, however, ere the call to the apostleship had passed upon him ; as yet he is only “ The pilot of the Galilsean lake.” The rude simplicity of his attire — the muscular vigour of his limbs—even the crisp hair and rough- ened beard, no less than the natural energy of his look and demeanour, hitherto exalted by no con- scious possession of authority, and refined by no familiarity with ideas beyond his education and employment, — these all indicate, that we have be- fore us the man of toilsome occupation, not the in- 38 MIRACULOUS DRAUGHT OF FISHES. spired misionaiy ; yet through all are revealed marks of a native grandeur, in which the future greatness of the apostle of the circumcision is not faintly dis- cernible. The third figure, which from its size and situation is as prominent as any in this noble group, no doubt represents Andrew, the brother of Peter. The same emotions, modified by a difference of natural charac- ter, appear also in him. Andrew is sedater and less excitable. With less of devotional feeling and a total absence of fear, he exhibits more collectedness and comparative reserve. Mixing with, however, if not predominant over every other feeling, we perceive actuating him a sense of grateful acknowledgment for the immediate benefit included in this miracle of be- nevolence, which in the case of Peter is suppressed or prevented, by loftier considerations. His deference to the Divine Person before him is rather submissive than devout : in his attitude and manner appear more of obedience and confidence than of awe and alarm. He is a copy of Peter — but milder and more grace- ful than his vehement brother, and' discovering touches of a more genial nature. This fine figure is admirably conceived and skilfully drawn ; the drapery, though not ample — which would have been MIRACULOUS DRAUGHT OF FISHES. 39 out of character — has great breadth and beauty of fold, and is powerfully relieved. The head and beard are finely proportioned, and, as is almost invariably to be observed in the works of Raffaelle, perfectly in harmony with the general design and expression of the figure. In the second boat, immediately behind Andrew^, are the tw^o sons of Zebedee. Their barque is not so deeply laden as the other, and they are still en- gaged in securing the draught of fishes. The youth of John is shown, not only in his slighter frame and beardless countenance, but in his action. While he looks round with the interest of curiosity at the scene which is passing in the other boat, still, re- strained indeed rather by habitual submission to the duties of his calling, or by youthful ardour to secure the prize before him, than by a calculating attention to its value, he ceases not to labour at the ponderous net. The undisturbed attention of his companion, on the other hand, to his customary toil, is not to be re- garded as denoting a sordid disposition w^holly ab- sorbed in the immediate prospect of gain, but shows rather that the recognition of the miraculous quality of the event has not yet distinctly reached him : he is naturally intent on securing an unexpected benefit. 40 MIRACULOUS DRAUGHT OF FISHES. rendered peculiarly welcome by the fruitless exertions of the past night. These two persons are drawn with equal spirit and correctness ; and, being nearly di- vested of clothing, and in positions favourable to the display of muscular form and action, add greatly to the effect of a group which, if we consider the small number of the figures and the simplicity of the sub- ject, presents, upon the whole, wonderful variety and animation. The last in the group is Zebedee. The name of “ the father of James and John” is familiar to the readers of the New Testament ; but as he is not there remarked for any peculiarity above his station, and was not himself admitted of the college of apos- tles, he is properly depicted in all respects as a mere fisherman. He is attentive only to the adjustment of the little vessel, in the manner most convenient for securing the ample contents of the nets. The frame of Zebedee shows finely the robust developement of middle life, in a person habituated to toil and expo- sure to the influences of air and light. Here, however, the interest of this striking picture does not terminate. From this point, the eye passes on to several distant parties of people, assembled on MIRACULOUS DRAUGHT OF FISHES. 41 the margin of the lake, or scattered, at intervals, be- tween it and the walls of the neighbouring town — probably Capernaum; as if conversing together about oiu* Saviom'’s miracles and discourses, and anxiously waiting his return to land. Behind, the towers and p}Tamids of the town present a magnificent line of forms, against the sky ; and, with the faintly-dis- covered sloping hills of Galilee and Itursea, con- duct the imagination through those lands, hitherto in darkness,” that were the first to be cheered with the light” of the gospel, to regions more remote, which likewise, partly through the convictions wrought in consequence of the miracle represented, were successively supplied with the means of salva- tion. On the whole, the Cartoon of the “ Miraculous Draught of Fishes” cannot fail to awaken in the mind of the observer an impression, which we shall find to receive confirmation as we proceed, that the noblest subjects for the exercise of genius are pre- sented in Scripture ; that when such immortal intel- lects as Homer, Eschylus, and Phidias — as Dante, Raffaelle and Milton — drew the inspiration of art, whether graphic, plastic, or poetical, from the fa- thomless, eternal fountain of religion, they were led by a wise and holy instinct, alike favourable to their use- fulness and to the enduring universality of their fame. 42 MIRACULOUS DRAUGHT OF FISHES. The reader will, perhaps, by this time have per- ceived, that the general tone of remark in this work is designed to be rather descriptive — occasionally, also, moral, and even theological — than technically critical; nevertheless, we should be thought to de- cline far more decidedly than we intend, the functions included in the latter term, did we dismiss this picture without an opinion on the common objection to the insufficient dimensions of the boats. This is one of those objections which most readily occur to the least instructed spectator. Richardson, the best of our critics upon Raffaelle, because he, more than any other, wrote from the impulse of a heart full of love and admiration for the great artist, — (and it is only by the affectionate sympathy of the critic with the subject of his commentary, that any critical canons worthy of being applied to great works can be obtained) — has ably justified him on the follow- ing principles : that vessels of a larger bulk would have ungracefully filled up the space ; that it was necessary to make the figures conspicuous, and pro- portioned to the other Cartoons, and that with this view the peculiarity of the subject required that something should be sacrificed. “ Another author,” says Mr. Holloway, (assuredly MIRACULOUS DRAUGHT OF FISHES. 43 with a superstitious veneration for illustrious names, which detracts not a little from his authority as a cri- tic,) makes a pathetic appeal to candour, and thinks it almost impious not to overlook or deny trivial errors in men of splendid genius and established reputa- tion.” The latter critic’s own apology is much more to the purpose. He remarks that, if the mode be observed in which these boats are built, it will be seen that the thickness of the timbers renders them capable of bearing the weight and containing the figures allotted to them. They are rendered buoyant by their massive substance, and boats of a similar construction and size are still to be seen on the coasts and rivers of Italy.” The arguments of the first and third of these three apologists may be very properly united. Still, though Mr. Holloway appeals to a fact, and Richardson to a piinciple in art, the exculpation of the alleged eiTor, as advanced by the latter, has the greater weight. It may be a fact, that similar vessels, at present in use, are found to be capable of sustaining the appa- rent burden supported by those in the Cartoon — and, that the boats used by the fishermen on the Lake of Tiberias were very small, appears clearly from the narrative, which says that they began to sink” with 44 MIRACULOUS DRAUGHT OF FISHES. the freight of fishes which two persons in each were able to haul in. But what is requisite in art is not fact, but verisimilitude. That truth is stranger than fiction” (meaning by truth, insulated fact) is no ex- cuse for wild, lawless invention. The mind of the artist while at work is fixed on the expression, cha- racter, form, and ordonnance, or graduated composi- tion, of the objects he designs to represent, with a view to the developement of the main idea of his subject. If this idea be efficiently worked out in the application of those pictorial elements to the objects which are most properly susceptible of them, viz. human figures, subordinate considerations are of little importance. To impute to Raffaelle an obvious oversight, in this case, were absurd : there are no blunders in the pro- ductions of such minds. He wished to indicate the surprising nature of the miracle, not by exhibiting the prodigious quantity of fishes taken, but by show- ing with what sentiments it impressed the persons who were present. He felt it to be necessary to the complete effect of his group, with this view, that the size of the boats should be contracted within the smallest limits consistent with probability ; and as even the violation of the principle of probabi- lity was of less consequence than the attainment of MIRACULOUS DRAUGHT OF FISHES. 45 that object, he was justified in casting off all fear of passing, in some small degree, the boundary line between the probable and the improbable. :: i.i ARGi': CARTOON II. THE CHARGE TO PETER. John, xxi. 15 — 17 . CAETOON II. THE CHARGE TO PETER. It is one of the greatest charms of language, felt even by those who do not reflect on such things, that so many of its familiar forms refer to states of society long gone by, or to simple rustic occupations which the mass of interests and images crowded be- fore the mind in an advanced era, conceal from the observation, at least, of the more refined. But the beauty and the force of such modes of expression are no doubt best appreciated by those who have looked into the histories of early times' — of ages of simpli- city and comparative innocence, when the greatest among mankind conferred, by their personal partici- pation, a dignity on the simplest employments of daily life. 50 THE CHARGE TO PETER. Of the three original families of the post-diluvian race of mankind, the Semitic, or descendants of Shem, was the slowest to resign the quiet pursuits of a life in daily converse with nature, — and, when not without a share of early education, highly favourable to the evo- lution of the religious and moral faculties, — ^for the life of cities and the stimulating employments of a more artificial condition of society. The habits of the Hebrew patriarchs were pastoral and nomade : the re- cord of them, in the first Book of Moses, presents a series of the most fascinating pictures that are to be met with in any memorials of real life. Those venerable narratives are the delight of our earliest youth ; and have again an especial charm when, in advancing age, our sympathy revives for the calm, the unexciting, and contemplative, which among the strong impulses and urgent necessities of the inter- mediate period are forgotten or despised. Then once more, as the solemn but sweet shades of evening begin to fall upon the subdued heart, we can repose with the patriarch, as in the days of childhood, in the shelter of his tent at noon, or walk forth with him to meditate at eventide ; ” * and can contem- plate with delight the simple but high-souled daugh- Gexi. xxiv. 03. THE CHARGE TO PETER. 51 ter of the independent “ dweller of the desert” wateiing her father’s flocks without the gate of his city. * The contrast between the Hebrews — the branch of the Semitic family best known to history — and the Egyptians, the leading branch of the Hammonic family, with whom originated both the sciences and social arts, and the superstions that so long and widely degraded mankind, is strikingly expressed on occasion of the settlement of the former on the banks of the Nile. Because they were shepherds, both they and their fathers,” they were settled in Goshen, a district bordering on the Red sea, which, though the most fertile portion of the country, ap- pears, at least after the expulsion of the Hyksos, or Shepherd Kings,t to have been nearly unoccupied, as being chiefly adapted for pasturage : for the pas- * Gen. xxiv. 15. Exod. xi. 16. + A Cushite or Arab tribe, who, in the reign of Timaos, in- vaded Egypt and reduced it to slavery. Their dynasty of six Pharaohs terminated in the expulsion of the tribe by the native princes, after a protracted war, a few years previous to the administration of Joseph. They are said, by some writers, to have afterwards taken possession of Palestine, and to have been the Philistines so frequently named in Scripture. 52 THE CHARGE TO PETER. toral life was already held in “ abomination” by that artificial people.* These simple habits were retained to a late period of the commonwealth. The office of a herdsman or shepherd, was associated in the mind of a Hebrew with nothing mean or disagreeable. Their flocks were a chief source of the wealth of the greatest families, nor was the care of them considered degrading to persons of the highest rank. That David in particu- lar had actually followed this employment, until by the Divine appointment he exchanged the crook for the sceptre, was a circumstance which facilitated the general acceptance of the natural metaphor, whereby the head of a people, whether their governor or teacher, is called a shepherd, and the people his flock, t As exercising both these functions, and also as the anti-type of David, the term came to be em- phatically applied to the Messiah by the prophets, and is adopted and appropriated to himself by om' * Gen. xlvi. 34. + It is more frequently made use of by no one of the inspired writers, than by David himself. A beautiful instance of the figure referred to, dilated into a poem, is given in the twenty- third Psalm; Mr. Addison’s paraphrase of which is so well known. THE CHARGE TO PETER. 53 Saviour, with much beautiful amplification; from him descending to the apostles, it thence became consecrated in the Christian church in all ages, to designate the ministers, but especially the bishops, who preside over the spiritual fold. Hence the em- blem of the crook, to signify episcopal jurisdiction. ^Vlien therefore the charge, feed my sheep,” which forms the subject of the second in this series of Cartoons, was delivered to Peter, the disciples, though hitherto by no means of quick apprehension in spiritual matters, perceived at once the meaning of the phrase. In order to understand this picture, it is necessary to remember that the incident represented took place subsequently to the resurrection. With the cruci- fixion of their master, the commission of the apostles appeared to them to be at an end : they did not yet know, or had not called to mind the possibility, and the duty which lay upon them, of proceeding with the work of diffusing the gospel, without his visible presidency. Uncertain what to do, as they had received no new commission since his death, such of' them as were fishermen by trade, viz. Peter and Nathanael and the other two brothers, James and John, determined to go and fish, and were accom- E 54 THE CHARGE TO PETER. panied by Thomas and two more, probably Andrew and Philip. While so engaged, they were joined by Christ, who a second time filled their nets by a miracle ; and who, by means no less miraculous, for his body w^as now already glorified, partook with them of the meal so procured. After they had eaten, Jesus desiring, though in the tenderest manner, to rebuke Peter, still as usual the most zealous in his demeanour, for his late la- mentable weakness, when — “ Vain in his vaunts, he vowM, if friends had fail’d, Alone Christ’s hardest fortunes to abide ; Giant in talk, like dwarf in trial quail’d, Excelling none hut in untruth and pride — * he questioned him searchingly respecting the present * Robert Southwell’s St. Peter’s Complaint.” — From among many passages of this poem, which breathe great tenderness of sentiment, in verse of remarkable smoothness for that age, (he died in 1595,) the following are extracted, with some confidence that the reader will not be sorry to have had such an intro- duction to one of the obscure sacred poets of Elizabeth’s reign. “ Fly, mournful plaints, the echoes of my ruth. Whose screeches in my frighted conscience ring ; Sob out my sorrows, fruits of mine untruth ; Report the smart of sin’s infernal sting : Tell hearts that languish in the sorriest plight. There is on earth a far more sorry wight. THE CHARGE TO PETER. .55 sincerity of his attachment to his Lord. Twice, using a term wLich denoted the highest order of religious regard, he enquired — “ Simon, lovest thou me — ayairag Peter, well remembering that unhappy failure, and how “ He fear’d with life to die — by death to live,” humbly answ^ers, “ Lord, thou knowest that I love “ I fear’d with life to die — by death to live ; I left my guide, now left, and leaving God ; To breath in bliss I fear’d my breath to give ; I fear’d for heavenly reign, an earthly rod. These fears I fear’d, fears feeling no mishaps : O fond, O faint, O false, O faulty lapse ! “ How can I live — that thus my life denied ? What can I hope — that lost my hope in fear ? What trust — to one that truth itself defied ? What good in him that did his God forswear ? O sin of sins, of ills the very worst ! O matchless wretch ! O caitiff most accurs’d ! “ Could servile fear of rend’ring nature’s due. Which growth in years was shortly like to claim. So thrall my love that I should thus eschew A vowed death, and miss so fair an aim ? Hie, die, disloyal wretch ! thy life detest ; For, saving thine, thou hast forsworn the best. “ Ah life ! sweet drop, drown’d in a sea of sours — A flying good, posting to doubtful end — Still losing months and years, to gain new hours — Fain time to have, and spare, yet forc’d to spend, — Thy growth, decrease~a moment all thou hast ; That gone ere known — the rest, to come — or past ! — 56 THE CHARGE TO PETER. thee — oTi 0tXw o-c,” a less confiding though sincere affection. A third time our Lord puts the question, but in different language. In this instance, he does not say, as before ayaTrag — Dost thou wholly and devotedly love me ? but in Peter’s own language, “ (piXelg fiz ; have you even that friendship which “ Ah life ! the maze of countless straying ways, Open to erring steps, and strew’d with baits. To wind weak senses into endless strays. Aloof from virtue’s rough unbeaten straits, — A flower, a play, a blast, a shade, a dream, A living death, a never-ending stream ! — “ And could I rate so high a life so base ? Did fear with love cast so unev’n account. That for this goal I should run Judas’ race. And Caiphas’ rage in cruelty surmount ? Yet they esteemed thirty pence his price ; I, worse than both, for nought denied him thrice. “ Was this for best deserts the duest meed ? Are highest worths well urg’d with spiteful hire ? Are stoutest vows repeal’d in greatest need ? Should friendship at the first affront retire ? — Blush, craven sot, lurk in eternal night : Crouch in the darkest caves from loathed light. « Why did the yielding sea, like marble way. Support a wretch more wavering than the waves ? Whom doubt did plunge, why did the waters stay — Unkind in kindness, murdering while it saves ? O that this tongue had then been fishes’ food. And I devour’d before this cursing mood ! THE CHARGE TO PETER. 57 you speak of, for me } ” Then it was that Peter was grieved.” The passage is generally explained, as if he had grieved because Christ asked three times if he loved him; but a recent periodical criticism*' “ Titles I make untruths : am I a rock, That with so soft a gale was overthrown ? Am I fit pastor for the faithful flock, To guide their souls, that murder’d thus mine own ? A rock of ruin, not a rest to stay ; A pastor, not to feed, but to betray. “ Come, sorrowing tears, the offspring of my grief. Scant not your parent of a needful aid ; In you I rest the hope of wish’d relief. By you my sinful debts must be defray’d : Your power prevails, your sacrifice is grateful, By love obtaining life to men most hateful. If David night by night did bathe his bed. Esteeming longest days too short to moan ; Inconsolable tears if Anna shed. Who in her son her solace had foregone ; — Then I to days and weeks, to months and years. Do owe the hourly rent of stintless tears. “ If Adam sought a veil to scarf his sin. Taught by his fall to fear a scourging hand ; If men shall wish that hills should wrap them in. When crimes in final doom come to be scann’d, — What mount, what cave, what centre can conceal My monstrous fact, which even the birds reveal ? * See the review of Mr. Granville Penn’s “ Annotations on the New Covenant.” — Lit. Gaz. March, 1837. 58 THE CHARGE TO PETER. suggests the sense, at once more ingenious and more natural, that he was grieved because in the third instance our Saviour adopted his own humble words, and demanded whether he regarded him even to that extent. The apostle then, according to this ex- planation, appeals to his Lord’s knowledge of the “ Come, shame ! the livery of offending mind ; The ugly shroud that overshadoweth blame ; The mulct at which foul faults are justly fin’d, The damp of sin, the common sluice of fame, By which imposthum’d tongues their humours purge ! — Light shame on me — I have deserv’d the scourge. “ Joy, infant saints, whom in the tender flower A happy storm did free from fear of sin ! Long is their life that die in blissful hour. Joyful such ends as endless joys begin: Too long they live, that live till they be naught — Life sav’d by sin, base purchase dearly bought. “ This lot was mine — your fate was not so fierce, Whoip spotless death in cradle rock’d asleep ; Sweet roses, mix’d with lilies, strew’d your hearse. Death virgin white in martyr’s red did steep ; Your downy heads both pearls and rubies crown’d. My hoary locks did female fears confound. “ My eyes read mournful lessons to my heart. My heart doth to my thought the grief expound ; My thought the same doth to my tongue impart, My tongue the message in my ears doth sound ; My ears back to my heart their sorrows send — Thus circling griefs run round without an end. THE CHARGE TO PETER. ,59 human heart— Thou knowest all things : thou knowest on ere— -that I have— I dare claim no more now — at least the affection of a friend for thee.” Jesus then subjoined, as he had done to both Peter’s previous replies, “ Feed my sheep.” From such slender materials for the pencil, the art “ My guilty eye still seems to see my sin, All tilings, characters are to spell my fall ; Wliat eye doth read without, heart rues within, What heart doth rue to pensive thought is gall ; Which when the thought would by the tongue digest. The ear conveys it back into the breast. “ My comfort now is comfortless to live, In orphan state, devoted to mishap : Rent from the root that sweetest fruit did give, I scorn’d to graff in stock of meaner sap : No juice can joy me but of Jesse’s flower. Whose heavenly root hath true reviving power. “ Christ, health of fever’d souls, heaven of the mind, Force of the feeble, nurse of infant loves. Guide to the wand’ring foot, light to the blind, — Whom weeping winds, repentant sorrow, moves ; — Father in care — mother in tender heart — Revive and save me, slain with sinful dart ! “ I dare not say, I will— h\xi wish I may : My pride is check’d — high words the speaker spilt : My good, O Lord, thy gift — thy strength my stay — Give what thou bidst, and then bid what tliou wilt : W ork with me what of me thou dost request — Then will I dare the most, and vow the best. 60 THE CHARGE TO PETER. of Raffaelle has wrought a group which may almost be considered without a rival even among his own creations. In some others of the Cartoons we may be more pleased with the richer variety of forms and characters, or more deeply moved by the greater energy of the action ; but in none is the eye more fully satisfied with the grace, the delicacy, and com- pleteness of the composition, whether as a whole or in the parts considered separately. The locality represented is the shore of the same lake or sea of Tiberias, on which is transacted the subject of the former Cartoon. As there also the horizon is elevated, so as to relieve the entire height of the figures against the distance; over which, though filled in with curious and minute detail, is spread a general gloom from a sky somewhat sombre and overcast; while the foreground, without pre- senting any inanimate or accessory object to fix attention, is varied by lights and shadows, skilfully “ With mildness, Jesu, measure mine offence ; Let true remorse thy due revenge abate ; Let tears appease, when trespass doth incense ; Let pity temper thy deserved hate ; Let grace forgive, let love forget, my fall : With fear I crave, with hope I humbly call.” THE CHARGE TO PETER. 61 connected with the broad, central masses presented in the group of figm'es. Mr. Holloway’s reasons for supposing that the point of time chosen by the painter is that of the first question, and immediately subsequent charge, are ingenious and satisfactory. This period,” he says, “ afforded an opportunity of describing stronger expression among the disciples, as it was the first moment of their arrested attention, and consequent surprise. Upon the second reiteration [question] Peter would have discovered more emotion, and John could not have been in the act of advancing. The time of the third cannot be supposed ; because Peter’s grief was then great: and it is likely the other disciples would have drawn nearer the Saviour, in order to present themselves to him, and partake his notice. And the surprise must at that time have been changed into assurances of zeal and attach- ment.” * As in the “ Miraculous Draught of Fishes,” the Saviour appears apart from the apostles, but more completely removed, not so much by the actually Analysis of the Charge to Peter. 62 THE CHARGE TO PETER. greater distance, as by the increased sentiment of a divine superiority on his part, and augmented respect and awe on theirs. His death and resiuTection had placed them in a new relation to each other. Through all the varied individual traits of character and ex- pression, this feeling may be observed connecting and harmonizing with itself every other. The evi- dence which they had before had of his divinity, has now been in a most wonderful manner confirmed, and placed beyond all doubt; even in his human nature he has undergone a change which places him at a higher elevation above all other human beings. His very body is no longer what theirs is, an earthly tabernacle,” but has been spiritualized, and is now a glorious body,” a building of God, an house not made with hands, eternal in the heavens.” This is signified on Christ’s part, not only by the divine majesty which is diffused over his whole figure, and by the commanding sympathetic action of the hands, but also by the half-averted attitude, and that peculiar look “ commercing with the skies — ” which bespeaks immortal freedom from all the pertur- bations of earthly joy or suffering ; and that his con- nexion with mortality is now only that of a being THE CHARGE TO PETER. 63 touched with tender and benignant pity for those who are yet imprisoned within its “ walls of flesh in short, his whole air and demeanour are in accord- ance with the mysterious words addressed by him to the person with whom he first spake after his resur- rection : — Touch me not, for I have not yet as- cended to my Father.” The expression of his con- summately beautiful countenance denotes perfect calmness and tenderness — something approaching to the languor of melancholy ; in which some critics have imagined“We think erroneously — ap- pear the physical traces of past suffering. Our great living poet has — with, as we conceive, taste truly Raffaellesque (if such a term be allowed)— imparted the like air of celestial pensiveness to a character also recalled from the spiritual world, under very different circumstances indeed, but still with simi- larity sufficient to justify some general touches of resemblance : — “ In his deportment, shape, and mien, appeared Elysian beauty, melancholy grace Brought from a pensive though a happy place.”* This peculiar expression in the countenance of Christ is partly attained by the direction of the eyes Wordsworth’s Laodamia. 64 THE CHARGE TO PETER. being raised somewhat above those of Peter, to whom he is speaking ; whereby is denoted abstraction of the mind, as if occupied with ideas of more solemn im- portance than are presented in the actual occurrence. Nevertheless, though without passionate emotion, the countenance is full of most expressive meaning. The action also is both energetic, as far as is con- sistent with the divine dignity of the person, and majestical. With one hand he points to the key, the symbol of the authority he is in the act of commit- ting to the apostle ; while with the other he enforces the purport of his charge by a similar action di- rected towards a flock of sheep, which the artist, remembering how frequently the great but familiar Teacher imparted a living force to his lessons by refening for illustration to objects in view at the time, has significantly introduced. The hair and drapery of this surpassing figure, are, as usual in Rafiaelle’s principal figures, strikingly beautiful. The hair, parted over the temples, flows down in a rich redundancy of curls upon the neck, where on one side it mingles with the delicate and characteristic beard, and on the other connects gracefully the outline of the head with the drapery thrown round the shoulder : the drapery, formed of a THE CHARGE TO PETER. 65 single white garment, passing beneath the right arm, and leaving it free, is brought over the left shoulder, and falls in negligent folds about the feet. These last are bare, and show the marks of the nails, by which they were pierced and fastened to the fatal wood. Their partial nakedness, with the extreme simplicity of the attire, recalling the peculiar fashion of no time or country, contributes to aid the artist’s intention to convey the idea of a Divine Being risen from the dead. In the figure of Peter, the illustrious painter, un- able or unwilling to divest his mind of the peculiar views of his church, has somewhat marred the truth and simplicity of his representation, by combining the character of the plain-minded and zealous apos- tle of Christ with that of the symbolic representative of the superior claims of the head of the Romish see. As regards the former character, the figure is perfect. On hearing himself addressed by his mas- ter, he may be supposed, with his customary ardour, to have advanced eagerly towards him. But the tenor of the question, Lovest thou me ” brings back to his conscience an overpowering remembrance of his sinful frailty ; humble and contrite he falls upon his knees before Christ ; yet, conscious that he 66 THE CHARGE TO PETER. does indeed love him, notwithstanding, he ventures to raise his eyes with reverence and tender supplica- tion.* In the position of the lower limbs — one knee being advanced far beyond the other, while a portion of drapery is flung yet more forward — the extremity of the other limb extended far behind, and still re- * The fact that our Saviour’s eyes, as before observed, are, in- tentionally no doubt, elevated above those of the kneeling Peter — in connexion with the wonderful sweetness of their expression — might almost seem to have suggested some stanzas in the poem already so largely quoted, addressed by Peter to the e^es of his injured master : they are too mystical for the taste of Protes- tants ; but in some parts not unworthy of admiration : — “ O sacred eyes ! the springs of living light. The earthly heavens where angels joy to dwell. How could you deign to view my deathful plight, Or let your heavenly beams look on my hell ? But those unspotted eyes encountered mine. As spotless sun doth on the dunghill shine. “ Sweet volumes ! stor’d with learning fit for saints. Where blissful quires emparadise their minds. Wherein eternal study never faints. Still finding all, yet seeking all it finds, — How endless is your labyrinth of bliss. Where to be lost the sweetest finding is ! “ Ah wretch ! how oft have I sweet lessons read In those dear eyes, the registers of truth ! How oft have I my hungry wishes fed. And in their happy joys redress’d my ruth ! Ah, that they now are heralds of disdain. That erst were ever pitiers of my pain ! THE CHARGE TO PETER. 67 taining the action by which the body was brought forward, — we discover the rapidity of the movement he has just made, and infer from it the fervour and sincerity of the impulse within. In the crossed hands, the pleading suppliant look, we perceive the conscience-stricken but not desponding penitent. Among the emotions traceable in his fine coun- tenance, one is perhaps grateful acknowledgment of the tender manner in which his grievous fault is noticed, and of the confidence, which, as denoted in the charge, “ Feed my sheep,” was still reposed in him. So far all is scriptural and intelligible : but what has Peter to do (at least, on this occasion) with the keys— the emblems of his imaginary oecumenical authority to bind and loose — to remit sins, or to re- “ You flames divine, that sparkle out your heats, And kindle pleasing fires in mortal hearts, — You nectar’d aumbries of soul-feeding meats, — You graceful quivers of Love’s dearest darts,' — You did vouchsafe to warm, to wound, to feast My cold, my stony, my now famished breast. “ O suns, all but yourselves in light excelling ! Whose presence day, whose absence causeth night, Whose neighbour course brings summer, cold expeUing, Whose distant periods freeze away delight, — Ah, that I lost your bright and fostering beams. To plunge my soul in these congealed streams !” 68 THE CHARGE TO PETER. tain them ? For, first, it was not at this time that the “ power of the keys,” given to the apostles, was particularly signified to Peter ; this took place at the time of his remarkable confession of his Lord, as the Messiah. * The common mistake of call- ing this pictoe the Delivery of the Keys,” origin- ated therefore in the painter’s having here followed the traditions of his church. Secondly, the authority of “ opening and shutting,” of ‘‘ binding and loosing,” (in whatever sense we take those terms,) though on that occasion notified to one apostle in particular, was, on others, equally committed to each and all of them : f hence the titles of pillars,” J “ foundations,” § &c. are equally extended to some, or all, of the remain- ing members of the apostolic college. Of the per- fect equality of St. Paul, in particular, the proofs are numerous. H Or, if any precedency belonged to Peter, it was precedency of time, not of authority : the use of a key is, to open and to lock ; now it is not denied that Peter was the first of the apostles, after they “ were endowed with power,” to make converts to Christianity — to open” the doors of the kingdom,” both to Jew and Gentile. The sur- * Matt. xvi. 10. + Matt, xviii. 18. John, xx. 23. X Gal. ii. 9. § Eph. ii. 20. Rev. xxi. 14. ^ See Rom. xi. 13. Gal. ii. 8, 11. THE CHARGE TO PETER. 69 name of Cephas, the Rock, given to this apostle, could not denote that he was himself the foundation of the church ; in this exclusive sense the title be- longs to our Saviour alone ; * but it signified that he would contribute, in an eminent degree, by his zeal- ous preaching, to the establishment of the faith. That he is uniformly named with distinction in the enumeration of the twelve, or any number of them, is the natural consequence of his forward and vehe- ment temper, wdiich at all times urged him on to take his station as the hero or leader of the little band of apostles — to be first in action and foremost in speech, t Raffaelle, however, having designed these noble works, not as a theologian, but as an artist, — though * 1 Cor. iii. 11. t In this work controversy is out of the question. It may however he remarked, in relation to the matter of which a pass- ing notice has been taken in the text, that if the personal prece- dency of St. Peter were ever so clearly established, the fact would be of no avail whatever towards giving validity to the claims of those who have termed themselves his successors. Not only does it remain yet to be shown that Peter founded the church of Pome, but also to point out by what authority it is inferred that his sup- posed primacy was to descend on those who should follow him in his office, there or elsewhere ; though it would have been so easy, by a single word from our Lord, to have precluded all question on so important a point. F 70 THE CHARGE TO PETER. in subserviency to the views of his church and his illustrious patron, — we must, having entered this slight protest against an historical perversion, be content to proceed in considering the subject before us as it presented itself to his mind; which, if otherwise objectionable, it will yet be readily con- ceded, was that light in which it was best adapted to the purposes of art. Our Lord’s charge to Peter, enforced by referring to the symbols of superior apostolical authority, and coupled with a rebuke so delicately and affectionately conveyed, for a gross and lamentable weakness, of which he of all present had alone been guilty, natu- rally excites surprise and some degree of dissatisfac- tion among his fellow-disciples. It seems to imply an admission, that Peter’s love was, after all, greater than that of his companions. We instantly recognise .John by his youthful and ingenuous appearance, as the most earnest in expressing his sentiments. As the beloved disciple,” who therefore, rather than Peter, at least after what had occurred on the morn- ing of the crucifixion, might, if any one could, have expected such an honour, he steps forward with ardour, apparently entreating his Lord to believe that he too loved him no less than Peter. This figure THE CHARGE TO PETER. 71 is most touchingly interesting. It is impossible to contemplate a person so beautiful — an expression so overflowing with benignity and love — and to antici- pate the bm’ning words” of attachment to the Saviour, combined perhaps with sympathy for the do^vncast though consoled Peter, which his move- ment towards Christ, and the action of his uplifted hands, seem to intimate he is preparing to utter — without feelings which acknowledge the triumph of the artist. The time represented was previous to the loftier inspiration which fell on all that chosen band ; we may therefore, without impropriety, point out John as the most gifted already with the humbler inspiration of genius. What a soul of feeling breathes through eveiy lineament ! and eloquent with its ut- most intenseness must be the sweet tones about to proceed from those loving lips ! Yes, this is indeed that evangelist, who, conducted by a surer guide than the philosophic mind,” even the divine spirit of charity, has laid bare to its eternal basis, far beyond the utmost ken of Plato or the Stagirite, the roots of the Great Tree of living Truth, “ whose leaves are for the healing of the nations ;” and who, even in what men call old age,* but which the soul of genius * All the writings of St. John were composed after he was far advanced in years. 72 THE CHARGE TO PETER. acknowledges not, rested all practical philosophy, all moral obligation, on love alone ! The personage next in importance, from the part he takes in the action, and who is placed between Peter and John, a little in advance of the latter, is James. This is a grand head, full of expression, and finely drawn. That surprise, which in John is mixed with attachment eagerly seeking to declare itself, settles in the severe countenance here con- trasted with his, into grave displeasure. Peter, James, and John were honoured by their Divine Master beyond the other apostles ; they ac- companied him on many interesting occasions, when their fellows were not present ; probably because their respective characters and endowments pecu- liarly fitted them for this distinguished part. A more prominent share in the action, and a more marked individuality, are therefore given to those in- dividuals than to the rest, in all the Cartoons in hich they are introduced. Seven only of the disci- ples, as before remarked, are related to have been ac- tually witnesses of the beautiful incident here re- presented, Nevertheless, the artist, for the greater diversity and richness of his group, has taken a very THE CHARGE TO PETER. 73 allowable liberty with the text, by introducing the entire number of eleven ; and it has been justly ob- served, that no person capable of appreciating the productions of the greatest of painters would, for the sake of a minute point of historical accuracy, wish even one away. To name with certainty each of the eight remaining disciples would perhaps be impossible ; though it is likely Raffaelle himself determined the identity of each. The figure which next attracts attention, by the importance of the space it occupies, if not by its share in the action, is of the most finished elegance. This person is standing at some distance behind St. J ohn, but in a line with Peter, and presents to the spectator, who views him in profile, the entire con- tour of his form and clothing, unbroken by any in- tervening object. His countenance is serene and mildly acquiescent, yet partaking in some degree of the general sm*prise. The beautifully balanced har- mony of the attitude and adjustment of the exquisite drapery, in consistency with this pleased and tran- quil expression, is very remarkable. In the whole design of this figure we have one of those “ instances by wdiich Raffaelle discovers his pre-eminence over every other master, in the conformity he invariably 74 THE CHARGE TO PETER. introduces between the superior and subordinate parts. One hand delicately raised to press the inner drapery to the bosom, leaves the other in the act of gently folding round him the extended mantle, which gracefully flows over his shoulder to the ground. This action, and the gentle bend of one knee, bear an equally significant correspondence with the sere- nity of the head.”* Between this individual and St. John are three heads, very difierent from each other, but all in the finest style of expression and drawing. In the first of the three, immediately over the shoulder of the latter apostle, is seen a character of eminent goodness and simplicity. His looks, full of manly and devout tenderness, are fixed on Jesus, from a distance, where he is held by modesty, not by indifference. This is probably Andrew. The second presents one of those beautiful har- monizing contrasts, which we meet with only in the works of artists of the finest taste. He also appears to be in the act of advancing, like St. John, to ex- Holioway. THE CHARGE TO PETER. 75 postulate with his master, but in a harsher and more impatient manner. It is a fine head ; but has little of the delicacy and softness which distinguish the beloved disciple.” The beauty of the hair, though beautiful in all, is here especially remarkable. The third is, next to the Saviour, the most majestic figure in this noble composition. He occupies the exact centre of the group of disciples, and presents an admirable contrast and support to the others. The words of Christ to Peter agitate him with the strongest emotions. In turning round to communi- cate his sentiments to his fellow -disciple nearest to him, he presents the front of his grand head to the spectator ; and, by averting his face in consequence from the Saviour, would interrupt the unity of the subject, and suspend the continuity of the interest, but for the action of his hand, which is directed towards the object of the general attention, and at the same time supplies a relief to the subject, by breaking the line formed by the hair and drapery of St. John. Though both strongly contrasted with all around, the head and inferior parts of this figure are in entire conformity with each other. Of the four remaining apostles, the first who comes 76 THE CHARGE TO PETER. next behind the figure before noted for its peculiar elegance, is chiefly entitled to separate notice. He is a most curious and intent observer of the scene ; but indicates, in his attitude and demeanour, rather a wish to indulge his own feelings unobserved, than to make himself conspicuous by stepping forward from his remote position. This person may represent Thomas ; who, though no longer incredulous of his master’s identity, eyes him with a scrutinizing if not suspicious look, which yet the remembrance of the rebuke he lately received for his want of faith pre- vents his wishing to have remarked. This figure shows the weakness and emaciation resulting from ill-health, or perhaps from habitual study : the book, half concealed beneath the folds of his mantle, seems to direct us to the latter as the true cause. Two venerable heads, than which none more truly apostolic can be imagined, carry out the prevailing sentiment, by their animated but calm looks, to the extremity of the group. The last, whose face is hidden by his companion, is of no individual interest; but is valuable to the composition by adding extent and sohdity of mass ; and also as connecting in a manner agreeable to the eye, by means of the piece of drapery which he holds beneath his arm, the THE CHARGE TO PETER. 77 nearly vertical outlines of the figures, with the hori- zontal form of the boat. A corresponding service is performed, at the opposite extremity of the picture, by the flock of sheep : besides their importance, as regards the emblematical significancy already alluded to, the sheep are of advantage to the composition by pleasingly carrying off* the chief mass of light, and at the same time presenting the necessary relief to the drapery on the shadow-side of our Saviour. The back-ground is also, in every part, adapted with finished skill to relieve or soften the outlines of the figures, as may be required ; while its varied, exten- sive, and well-defined features, form by themselves a picture of no mean interest. On rising from the contemplation of such a work as the Cartoon of ‘‘ The Charge to Peter,” it is im- possible not to retain a strong impression on the affirmative side, respecting the question, whether pictures are, or are not, of any use in promoting morality and religion ? It is true, that a sectarian error — the introduction of the keys — for which (such were the universal opinions of his age and country) the painter can scarcely be considered responsible, 78 THE CHARGE TO PETER. somewhat mars the lesson designed ; yet, notwith- standing, how pure and exalting assuredly are — how permanent and practical ought to be — the sentiments it leaves upon the mind ! What a glorious palpable exposition have we here of a precious, an affecting- passage of the word of God ! What a volume is laid open, teaching the sad frailty of men of even the best intentions — the benignity and forgiving tender- ness of God to the penitent — in a language intelli- gible to every being that has eyes and a human heart ! What an eloquent sermon on his recent sufferings, his present care for his church, and the glory for which he is preparing, is preached in that serene majestic figure — in that countenance, of a most placid Godlike beauty, so lately marred” by suffering “ more than the sons of men ! ” — “ That face, whose picture might have ransom’d kings, Yet put up spittings, bathings, butfetings ! — That head, which could a crown of stars have worn, Yet spitefully was wrench’d with wreaths of thorn, — Those hands and feet, where purest stamps were set. Yet nail’d up like to pieces counterfeit, — Those lips, which though they had command o’er all. Being thirsty, vinegar had to drink, and gall, — That body, scourg’d and torn with many a woimd, That his dear blood, like balm, might leave us sound ; — Messias, great Jehovah, God on high. Yet hail’d king of the Jews in mockery, — THE CHARGE TO PETER. 79 The manger-cradled babe, the beggar born, The poorest worm on earth, the height of scorn, — The Lord, by his own subjects crucified ! ” * If it be true — as true indeed it is — that books are a substantial world both pure and good,”’h in which, rapt away from all that fevers and degrades us in the world we have to strive with outwardly, we may inform, raise, and delight the wearied spirit ; so are pictures, of the highest class, a world also, of a no less absorbing charm and sanctifying tendency. In the church of Rome they are regarded as the books of the unlearned ; and that church in all things wise as the serpent” — but not “ harm- less,” has used them as such ; — partly, it is to be lamented, for evil, partly for good ; for she has made them the instruments of superstition as well as the teachers of truth. But why should the church of England disdain, in this as in other things, to secure the use while she discards the abuse ? Why may we not hope that, among the real improvements for which the way is being prepared by mighty con- tention and many illusive shadows of such, we shall hereafter, on entering the multiplying fanes of her pure worship, instead of finding our eyes repulsed * Dekker. t Wordsworth. 80 THE CHARGE TO PETER. by the sight of bare walls, have our minds enriched through that avenue with the ever-living ideas pre- sented by the Bible, embodied in glowing forms, if not by Da Vinci, Raffaelle, and Corregio, yet by artists whose hands enlightened patronage, an equally earnest purpose, and a purer faith may teach almost as divine a cunning ? ” / •« ¥ PETEK AND JOHN HEAL ENG- THE LAME MAN. } CARTOON III. PETER AND JOHN HEALING THE LAME MAN. Acts, iii. 1 — 7* CAETOON III. PETER AND JOHN HEALING THE LAME MAN. The third Cartoon brings us to a different period in the history of the promulgation of the gospel. We have no longer Christ presenting in his own person the chief point of interest, to which the eye is in- voluntarily directed at the first glance, and from wdiich by degrees, slowly and not without reluctance, it passes to contemplate, in the countenances and figures of the apostles, an imperfect reflection, more and more faint and scattered, in proportion as they recede from him, of those exalted qualities by which he is himself distinguished. But while we miss his Divine person, we perceive the present evi- dences of his Spirit: — I will not leave you desti- tute — I will send my Spirit to you, who shall dwell with you and be in you.” In every one of Raffaelle’s delineations of the chief apostles, subsequent to the 84 PETER AND JOHN HEALING descent of the Holy Ghost, we may trace the fulfil- ment of this promise. As represented in The Charge to Peter, they have already lost the impress of their original stations and employments : we no longer see the fisher, the tribute-collector, or the handicrafts- man, but the grave and gowned teacher: only as yet the divine afflatus has been breathed but faintly on them, softening but not suppressing their native tempers and dispositions. In that most beautiful of groups therefore we find, depicted in the various fine coun- tenances which it presents, not only love, reverence, admiration, but marks of selfish and dark passions not yet wholly subdued to the proper sentiment of their commission — discontent, impatience, perhaps even envy. Now, however, all is changed — their transforma- tion is complete. These various passions now agi- tate only the people who are witnesses of their deeds and hearers of their discourses : from henceforth we invariably find, in the apostles themselves, the moral and intellectual dignity which results from their divine endowments — the fearless unaffected demean- our of persons conscious of acting under an authority with the ultimate purposes of which nothing human can interfere. THE LAME MAN. 85 The Cartoon of Peter and John healing the crip- ple is the richest in the whole series, with respect both to design and execution. A few sentences will suffice to recall the subject of this remarkable com- position to the reader’s mind. At the customary hour of prayer, when the ap- proaches to the temple are thronged with groups of worshippers, the two apostles are arrested in their way thither by the supplications of this mise- rable being, deformed and lame from his birth, whom his friends bring daily, and place where he may most conveniently solicit alms from the persons who pass to and from the consecrated edifice. Having, in answer to his request, desired the poor cripple to give particular attention to what he was about to say, Peter assures him, that to give ‘‘ silver or gold” is not in his power ; adding, however, that he is willing to confer such a benefit on him as he is able : “ In the name of Jesus of Nazareth,” continues the apostle, “ rise up and walk.” This was the first time the apostles had es- sayed to perform any miraculous work, since their Lord’s departure. The unhesitating language of this command, and the previous reference to the 86 PETER AND JOHN PIEALING divine power of Christ, show the complete establish- ment of the firmness and faith of St. Peter, and indi- cate at the same time a clear discernment that the power he was about to exercise was not his own, but granted for a particular pm’pose. Taking the afflicted being by the hand, he lifts him up ; and immediately preternatural strength and soundness are communi- cated to his limbs : he springs to his feet, and walks with Peter and John into the temple, leaping with irrepressible enjoyment of his novel sense of vigour, and bursting out in transports of praise to God.— Our purpose does not require us to follow further the history of the miracle. In the treatment of this subject, the illustrious ar- tist has adopted an unusual method of arrangement. He has supposed Peter and John to have actually entered, and to be passing beneath the portico, when the voice of the cripple, lying at the foot of the first of its successive rows of pillars, causes them to turn and address him. The picture is conse- quently divided by the intersecting pillars into three compartments ; the centre being occupied by the principal group, consisting of the apostles and the afflicted object of their compassion — the two others, by spectators, or by persons going into the temple. THE LAME MAN. 87 The apostles, though both animated by the same spirit of piety and faith, present a most character- istic contrast. St. Peter has here the same grand and firmly marked features as in the former pictures ; but, both in the expression of the head and in the entire attitude, there is, nevertheless, a marked difference. In the whole figure, from the crown of the head to the feet, (which latter are so firmly planted, as to seem almost grasping the ground,) are discovered the self-possession of conscious au- thority, the intrepid calm of a strong mind in immediate communication with heaven. The word Rise,” has just issued from his lips ; the right hand is raised with a correspondent action of com- mand; with the left he lifts the wondering cripple from the earth. The latter action throws the apostle into a perfectly upright 'position, and fa- vours the prevailing expression of boldness and fixedness of purpose. In harmony with the whole effect of the figure, and in no small degree con- tributing to it, the observer cannot fail to remark the amplitude and majestic arrangement of the pallium. The action of Peter is shared, in a degree consistent with the narrative and with his peculiar character, by his fellow-apostle. St. .lohn’s countenance of perfect beauty, imbedded in its rich masses of hair. 88 PETER AND JOHN HEALING beams with a look of tender and delighted pity on the recovering man. His head gently inclines to one side — this is wont to be the case in persons of an affectionate nature, under the influence of soft emo- tions. His hand is slightly raised with a gesture denoting encouragement rather than command : even to the beautifully harmonized folds of the mantle, the figure of the beloved apostle” expresses affec- tionate acquiescence in the proceeding of his more energetic companion. Perhaps there are no objects in all this delightful series more ably imagined, or drawn with greater power, than the two cripples. Both, but especially the person on whom the act of healing is per- formed, are true types of wretchedness — the very ideal of deformity. In that forlorn face may be read the record of forty years of pain and beggary — of want aggravated by contempt, and by infir- mity which has clung to him, and degraded him almost below his kind. The action of the limbs too, as the first thrill of soundness and vigour rushes through his frame, and seconds the will to rise imparted by the words of the gifted apostle, appears for the moment to increase their fright- ful distortion. There is nothing, nevertheless, to THE LAME MAN. 89 disgust. The contrast presented in such rude features and so shapeless a form, seen among a number of persons whose appearance is for the most part noble and delicate, is strong, but not offensive. Were there nothing else to interest the mind in this poor man, and keep down loathing, every one would feel it in the animated though uncouth expression of grateful astonishment which is beginning to light up his coarse physiognomy. What ! ” he seems to say, dare I hope that the Divine compassion has at length visited me, who have been so long given over to a sense of hopeless wretchedness, that, in my despair, I had come to concur in the opinion,* that ail diseases and defor- * No one can forget that Christ, in healing a man sick of the palsy, used the remarkable expression, “ Thy sins he forgiven thee (Matt. ix. 2 ;) or that, on another occasion, addressing a person whose strength he had restored, after thirty-eight years of infirmity, he said, “ Sin no more, lest worse things come upon thee,” (John, v. 14.) The commentators tell us, that his words, on these occasions, referred to the sanction given to the law by denouncing sickness or promising health, among other evils and blessings respectively proposed by way of judgment upon of- fenders or of reward to the obedient ; that therefore he designed to direct attention to the miraculous cure, as the proof of his power to forgive sin. This explanation, however, is scarcely sa- tisfactory. Scripture abounds with language and incidents which naturally lead to the conclusion, that there is not merely a posi- tive or legal, but an essential and necessary connexion between the pollution of the mind by sin, and the infliction of bodily sutferings. See Psalm ciii. 3 ; Isa. xxxiii. ult. ; but especially 90 PETER AND JOHN HEALING mities are the direct punishment of sin ; and hence had concluded that my own cureless calamity was the consequence of some inexpiable offence — not of mine, indeed, unless it can have been committed in some previous stage of existence, but of my fore- fathers ? O joy ! am I indeed yet to be redeemed 1 Cor. xi. 31, where St. Paul distinctly declares, that the sinful abuse of holy things by the members of the church at Corinth, was the “ cause” why “ many were weak and sickly among them.” Under the ancient dispensation, the temporal judgment on a sinful people was commonly a pestilence ; on individuals, a leprosy, or some fearful impotence of the limbs. It is still more observable, how frequently those benevolent displays of divine power, which were the signs that ushered Christianity into the world, referred to the removal of bodily disorders and imperfec- tions. It is no doubt true, that the numerous instances of such calamities, which everywhere occurred, offered ready occasions for the display of miraculous power; that such cures were peculiarly suitable to the benignant tenor of the gospel ; that health and physical soundness are so important to our comfort, that it is scarcely possible for the Omnipotent himself to confer a more precious boon ; still, notwithstanding all these considerations, it appears remarkable that so extraordinary a number of the miracles related in the New Testament should be of this kind. If we take this circumstance in connexion with the formula of our Lord, already cited, we shall be inclined to think, that the fact that sin is the cause of all the evils we are exposed to, has a more direct verification in the occurrence of disease than in other instances of suffering. The inference is of no small value, viz. that the best auxiliary to the care of the physician is holiness of life — that the fearless tranquillity of mind attendant on virtuous and religious habits, is favourable to the strength and purity of the bodily con- stitution. THE LAME MAN. 91 within the pale of humanity in its completeness } How shall I be sufficiently grateful to God for his mercy 1 ” Tlie other cripple, in the compartment on St. Peter’s right hand — to which we now proceed — is in no de- gree a less remarkable figure. Raising himself with pain upon his staff, he directs his eyes towards the merciful apostle, with a look in which the feeling of long-endured pain is mixed with earnest supplica- tion to be allowed a share in the benefit bestowed upon his favoured fellow- sufferer. The upper limbs of this person exhibit an extraordinary developement of muscular force, and are admirably draMn : the lower, the impotence of which seems strikingly to contrast with his hands and arms, are in great part judiciously concealed by the column ; the artist has thus avoided the unpleasing effect of a repetition of the deformity so conspicuously shown in the principal sufferer. A charming group now presents itself. The first of the three elegant figures of wffiich it consists, appears, from his costume, to represent one of the Levites, or servants employed in the temple. Pie seems to have come suddenly upon the extra- 92 PETER AND JOHN HEALING ordinary scene, while in his way towards the door, and, pausing, regards it with surprise and fixed attention. This we may suppose to be a por- trait, from the decided individuality of the coun- tenance, and the pains taken with the drawing of the hands and other parts, so unusual in a subor- dinate figure. The other two are females — a young- mother on her return from the sanctuary, where she has been presenting her firstborn, as directed in the law,* followed by her attendant. A more exquisite delineation of youthful maternity it would be diffi- cult to imagine. It is one of those countenances of Madonna-like dignity and sweetness, uniting the in- nocent simplicity of youth with the loftier charms of blooming womanhood, of which so many specimens have been left us by this great master. Her attention also is fixed upon the principal group — or rather on the poor man who is in the act of being healed, but with an expression of tranquil benevolence. She is a perfectly happy being, independently of the generous sentiment of interest in another’s good, which has mantled her beautiful features with that angelic smile ; and we behold the source of her sa- tisfaction in the infant fondly pressed to her bosom, Levit. xii. Luke, ii. THE LAME MAN. 93 and protected, as she hastens forward, by her inimi- tably graceful right hand. The fine execution of this female’s head-dress is particularly worthy of at- tention : the elaborateness of its arrangement, and the ornaments which decorate it, denote her superior rank. The three heads which fill up the space behind, in the intercolumniations of the perspective, carry on in a lively manner the interest of the subject. The first is, no doubt, one of those bigoted men of influence in Jerusalem, who were so frequently stung, though not converted by our Saviour’s re- proofs. He regards the apostles with a steady scowl of malignant rage; and appears already to have resolved on the plan for their imprison- ment, which in the sequel was carried into execu- tion. The two others are engaged in earnest con- versation. Returning now to the corresponding compartment on the other side, and passing by a single head, be- hind St. Peter, which offers nothing peculiar for re- mark, we come to the group on St. John’s left, divided by the richly ornamented column. It comprises five persons, who in various ways display the effects 94 PETER AND JOHN HEALING of the miracle upon the popular mind. The head with the broad fillet over the brow, next to, but at some distance behind, the youthful apostle, with whom it strikingly contrasts, is in a style of gran- deur not inferior to St. Peter himself. It is absorbed in contemplation of the astonishing event. The next, w’^hich has a disagreeable effect, in consequence of half of it being cut off by the intervening pillar, shows a less reflective and more excitable temperament : won- der and delight are vividly imprinted on this counte- nance, and seem to have found utterance in a sudden exclamation. The venerable person whose profile appears below, on a level with the shoulder of St. John, is a favourable specimen of the characteristic physiognomy of the Jews. Leaning forward, and resting his head upon his hands, which are sup- ported by a crutch, and half buried among the clustering curls of his beard, the old man fixes his gaze of scrutiny and doubt on St. Peter. His companion, in the third compartment, beyond the column, presents, as he presses eagerly forward, a more pleasing and ingenuous countenance. That broad reflective brow — those eyes, full of admira- tion — the mouth expressive of tender concern — combine with the masterly style of the drapery to form a truly historical figure, and such as alone THE LAME MAN. 95 would stamp the character of genius upon a compo- sition of less striking general merit. Behind this person a figure mufiled in his robe adds to the massiv'e fulness of the group. The face in the distance corresponds to the malignant Pharisee, before noticed, on the opposite side : the indigna- tion of the former differs from that of the Pharisee, however, in being more disdainful than mali- cious. The naked children are probably the only in- stance, in these works, of figures introduced solely for the sake of picturesque contrast. Finely drawn as they are— -magnificent specimen of a race whose form and features proved, in the prosperous times of the nation, that they were truly, as they have been styled, stirps generosa et historica” — ‘‘ sprung Of earth’s best blood playfully graceful in their attitudes, and with looks full of the serious animation of childhood amid a scene of wonders, — they appear, nevertheless, to detract no less from the grave simplicity of the work, than they increase the richness and variety of its groups. The noble boy on the foreground 96 PETER AND JOHN HEALING — of the line, as it would seem, of the giants — who holds by the girdle of the venerable person already described, is indeed connected with the action of the piece by means of his look of earnest won- der, directed towards the apostles ; yet is the admi- ration of a child inadequate to convey a just notion of the effect of a miracle. The group beyond, in the front of which is the second child, is in itself extremely beautiful, but has no relation to the subject, although characteristically illustrative of the locality. A young woman, pro- bably of a humbler class than thfe female before noticed, trips lightly across the marble pavement to- wards the interior of the sacred edifice, gracefully supporting on her head a basket, in which are con- tained fruits and a pair of turtle-doves for an offer- ing ; while her boy, the earnest, noble child whom Raffaelle delighted to draw, carries a second pair, suspended from a stick which is held across his shoulder. Both these figures have the unpleasant defect of looking full at the spectator, and are conse- quently detached from all share in the business of the picture. The two figures which fill up the back- ground partake of the classic grandeur of the com- position. THE LAME MAN. 97 The extreme (though, historically speaking, inap- propriate) splendour of the architecture, in this ex- quisite work, calls for special remark. The portico which the artist designed to represent, was the ‘‘ Beautiful Gate”-— the grand entrance to that part of the temple at Jerusalem called the Court of the Women. It was surrounded on all sides by buildings of considerable altitude, as well as of great magni- ficence ; in reality, therefore, the open country could not have been seen through the intercolumniations. But a greater sacrifice of correctness to pictorial splendour occurs in the singular twisted pillars. The gorgeous richness of this gate is particularly men- tioned by Josephus. ‘^‘It was,” that author says, of Corinthian brass, and exceeded in magnificence those that were only covered over with silver and gold.”* But its architecture was certainly very different from the style which Raffaelle has adopted. Bichardson’s apology is well imagined. “ Raffaelle,” observes the critic, “ has departed from historical truth in these pillars ; the imagery is by no means agreeable to the superstition of the Jews at that time, and all along after the captivity. Nor were those kind of pillars known even in antique architecture in any ^ Bell. .Jud. 1. V. c. 14. 98 PETER AND JOHN HEALING nation. But they are so nobly invented by Raffaelle, and so prodigiously magnificent, that it would have been a pity if he had not indulged himself in this piece of licentiousness, which undoubtedly he knew to be such.” The artist seems indeed to have de- termined to give, in this piece, the utmost license to his fancy which is compatible with the severe historical style. A corresponding richness charac- terizes the execution : the massy parts have more solidity, the lighter are touched with a finer and more graceful pencil than is usual in the Cartoons. This latter remark applies especially to the orna- ments on the pillars, which are very charmingly finished. Here, if anywhere, the artist seems to have had peculiar regard to the etfect which these works would have when woven into hangings. Mr. Gunn tells us, that no one of the designs appears in the tapestry more attractive to the eye, or pro- duces a more brilliant effect ; and this he attri- butes in a great degree to the wonderful richness of the columns, with their twisted channels, figures, and gilded circlets; the splendour of which, he adds, is represented by the tapestry-artists with ad- mirable correctness. The solemn character of a sanctuary, if lost in the THE LAME MAN. 99 dazzling effect of these gorgeous colonnades, is retrieved by the introduction of the lamps suspended from the ceiling, whose light is taught “ to counterfeit a gloom,” adapted to the solemn mysteries of a great nation’s worship. The third temple, though built by a prince whose zeal for God’s glory was of no very genuine stamp, was splendid enough to justify the most lavish display of architectural magnificence, in any scene represented as passing within its walls. It was indeed an edifice in which “ thou mightst behold, Outside and inside both, pillars and roofs, Carv’d work, the hand of fam’d artificers, In cedar, marble, ivory, or gold.”* “ When Herod the Great,” remarks a celebrated divine, whose magnificence served him instead of piety to prompt him to an action, if not in him reli- gious, yet heroic at least, thought fit to pull down the temple of Zerobabel, and build one more glorious, and fit for the Saviour of the world to appear and to preach in, Josephus says, that during all the time of its building there fell not so much as a shower to Paradise Regained. 100 PETER AND JOHN HEALING THE LAME MAN. interrupt the work, but the rain still fell by night, that it might not retard the business of the day. If this were so,” continues he, I am not of the num- ber of those who can ascribe such great and strange passages to chance, or satisfy my reason in assigning any other cause of this, but the regard of God him- self to that place of his worship, making the com- mon influences of heaven to stop their course, and pay a kind of homage to the rearing of so sacred a structure.”* South. K: { >..i VV. ' ,' ; , ^ iia Y ;iiL; . i*;’ : \-i' . W WaiTen , sculp' /• ff W. CARTOON IV. DEATH OF ANANIAS. Acts, v. 3, 4, H JV-VK'J CARTOON IV. THE DEATH OF ANANIAS. A STRIKING contrast to the Cartoon last under re- view ! Nothing here is the same, but the power — power, both in the painter and the principal agent represented. In the scene at the Beautiful Gate,” however, the power of the apostle was exerted in an act of pm’e benevolence — here it is shown in the severity of punishment : of that composition a re- dundancy of beauty is the presiding characteristic — of the present, it is a studied plainness. The first glance at this composition conveys a vivid impression of a catastrophe, the result of a divine infliction. This idea is suggested by the general disposition of the groups. In the central background, the compact assemblage of the apos- tles frowning inflexible judgment on the unhappy H 2 104 THE DEATH OF ANANIAS. criminal, reminds the awe-struck spectator of a thunder-cloud, from whence the destroying bolt has been just launched ; while the scattered figures in the front exhibit the sudden but fearful effect of its fall, in the prostrate dying man, and the extreme terror and alarm of the beholders, gradu- ally subsiding into indifference among the distant persons, who are yet ignorant of the terrible event. Or we may liken the general features of the com- position to a rock in mid-ocean, against whose stately side a sudden storm has dashed the waves : flung foaming back, and broken into raging frag- ments at its base, they retire from the eye on either side, in masses more tranquil in proportion as they recede. It is needless to detail the particulars of an event so well known as the death of Ananias. As, how- ever, it has been thought, that the punishment in- flicted on this unhappy person and the partner of his guilt w'as of too relentless a character, we shall de- tain the reader by a few words on the nature of their crime. In the infant state of the church, its stability and growth w^ould chiefly depend on two circumstances — THE DEATH OF ANANIAS. 105 the unquestionable evidence of divine authority abid- ing with its ministers, and the perfect purity of motive which actuated those who joined themselves to its community. Now, the crime of Ananias and Sapphira involved the strongest possible violation of both these principles. They had witnessed the recent miraculous demonstrations of the Holy Spirit — perhaps had themselves received a portion of the divine influence. They had ostentatiously come forward among those members of the church, who relinquished all individual right in their possessions for the common advantage. On the public stock, therefore, they now claimed to be appointed pen- sioners. They were not required to make this sacri- fice: it was, they pretended, voluntary — the spon- taneous result of conviction and devotedness. Con- sequently, their guilt included vain-glory, hypocrisy, falsehood, and fraud in holy things — in a word, im- piety and sacrilege. Was it a time, w^hen that Holy Spirit, who, by wonders palpable to all, was securing the radication of the “ engrafted” church, could endure so flagrant an insult to himself, or permit a deadly plague-spot to spread its stain over her purity } As to the personal share of Peter and his coadjutors in this catastrophe, we have no right to condemn them. They were no more than 106 THE DEATH OF ANANIAS. instruments in executing the fiat of the Supreme Judge of all the earth.” The sin was committed against Him : so truly said Peter — Thou hast not lied unto men, but unto God.” His— God’s— was also the vengeance ; it was not by his own power” that Peter, himself a feeble and sinful man, could strike dead that fraudulent culprit. In the sentiment which inspired the apostle, there was nothing private — nothing selfish ; still less, male- volent. His indignation was no more than zeal for God, grounded, like the divine displeasure itself, in love. “ The wrath of the Almighty is but a form and an organ of love ; and in the storm-cloud that passes with fatal effect over the present, is impressed the fair rainbow of promise to future generations. Put the lust of self in the forked lightning, and would it not be a spirit of Moloch ? but God maketh the lightnings his ministers, fire and hail, vapours and stormy winds fulfilling his word,” Without, however, looking so far as to the ultimate beneficial results for a justification, this act of punishment, if compared with those judgments, which, in such cases, were inflicted under the Mosaic dispensation, denotes already the more mild and merciful character of Christianity. Compare it, for instance, with the THE DEATH OF ANANIAS. 107 total extirpation of the families of Korah, Dathan, and Abiram, who “ with all that appertained to them went dowm alive into the pit, and the earth closed upon them, and they all perished.” In the case of Ananias and Sapphira, the vengeance was confined to the actual perpetrators of the iniquity. There were, in this subject, difficulties of a nature severely to task the skill of the painter : to say that in the treatment of it Raffaelle has so completely triumphed over them as to show that for him they were no difficulties at all, were inadequate praise. The Cartoon, teeming with meaning and brilliant with animation, tells the whole story with such com- pleteness and effect — -with so much “ looking before and after” — the light of the present diffusing intelli- gence over the invisible past and future — as, had his marvellous pencil produced no other work, must have sufficed to win for his illustrious name the same rank which we assign to those of Homer, of Thu- cydides, and of Tacitus. Employing an instrument so much less comprehensive than winged words,” he has, it is not too much to assert, rivalled the grandest efforts of the epic or historic muse. As the centre of moral interest in the piece, the 108 THE DEATH OF ANANIAS. attention first rests on the majestic assemblage of apostles- — and, before all, on Peter. An action more justly significative — a countenance more expressive of the judicial authority of heaven, wielded by a chosen human agent, it would be hard to conceive. Can aught be plainer, than that the leader of the inspired band is actuated by no personal feeling — that he promulgates a decision already passed in the counsels of Omnipotence } The judgment is God’s ; the voice which utters it is the voice of his church ; while we feel the effect to be resistless, we likewise acknowledge the sublime grandeur of the agency. How calm in its collected energy is that countenance — how pregnant with conscious might that simple action of raising the finger, if compared with the tremendous nature of the result ! The fixity of pur- pose, in submission to an awful duty, is further sig- nified by the left hand also instinctively partaking, in some degree, in the act of denunciation, and by the pillar-like attitude — “ Firm on its base immovable” — of the whole figure ; but which is more especially to be remarked in the feet. In the assessors of the immediate agent of divine vengeance we dis- cover — modified by uniform concurrence in the act THE DEATH OF ANANIAS. 109 of tlieir leader — a variety of emotions, accordant with their respective tempers. To the left of St. Peter, directly over the prone victim of his own covetousness and deceit, stands one, scarcely second in grandem' to that apostle, who, with a look of pious and awe-struck solemnity, points upward, di- recting the thoughts of the people to heaven, as the real tribunal before which the crime has been detected, and whence the terrible judgment was launched. The graceful figure which fills up the interval, looks the very ideal of the Christian minis- ter. Resembling “ A saintly image from its shrine descended,” he regards the miserable Ananias with that benign compassion which goodness, even while punishing, extends to the frailties of the fallen. The next, on the contrary, whose head only appears, over Peter’s right shoulder, casts on the offender a look of indig- nation. The one on the right of Peter,” observes Mr. HoUoway, ‘‘ appeals to heaven with the sub- limest expression of reverential awe ; his upraised eyes, and hands fervently pressed together, exhibit a look and attitude of the most perfect devotion: such an expression is a fine commentary on the atrocity of the crime committed, and materially assists the lio THE DEATH OF ANANIAS. serious interest of the picture. In short,” con- tinues the critic, “ one general sentiment of parti- cipation in the authority of the immediate organ of the divine interposition connects the whole, and diffuses over this solemn array of apostolic fellow- ship an appearance of indescribable sacredness of character.” The general effect of the miraculous death of Ana- nias, as here depicted, upon the startled and aston- ished people, has been compared to that of a stroke of lightning. This comparison is especially applica- ble as regards the wretched sufferer himself, flung to earth by the bolt of invisible but unerring ven- geance. The head fallen backward on the shoulder, as if from apoplectic dizziness and insupportable weight — the distorted eyes, and the countenance darkening in death — the failing of the muscular limbs, express with such lively truth the suddenness and violent progress of the terrible infliction, that the spectator almost expects to behold the miserable being stretched, in one instant more, a blackened corse,” on the pavement, and to hear his expiring groan. In common with all the principal characters in these compositions, truth of expression — not in the features only, but diffused in just gradation over THE DEATH OF ANANIAS. Ill the whole person, distinguishes this admirable figure. Its excellence is hardly less striking, as regards ana- tomical correctness of drawing : we would refer, in particular, to the throat, the shoulder, and the arms, especially, the wrist of the right arm, doubled be- neath the supine weight of the body. Nor are the coarseness and vulgarity of the features without a meaning ; and a deeper meaning than the mere dis- play of picturesque contrast to the nobler counte- nances of the apostles. Raffaelle’s taste was too pure, and his observation of human nature too accurate, to suffer him to adorn such a character as Ananias wdth the attractions of even physical beauty. As comporting with a deed of cunning and impiety, he has chosen That base aspect Apt, liable to ill : — ” an example worthy the consideration, not only of those artists wRo ambitiously lavish on all their per- sonages indiscriminately, a kind of conventional academic beauty; but also of certain poets and novellists, who delight in the monstrous alliance of an angelic exterior with the moral qualities of demons. An ingenious remark has been hazarded upon the scanty clothing of Ananias — that he had 112 THE DEATH OF ANANIAS. probably carried his hypocritical affectation of de- votedness to the common interest, so far as to divest himself for its benefit even of the superfluous part of his daily raiment. The two individuals to whom, as taking the next largest share in the action of the piece, the eye now passes, are those before the fallen man. They pre- sent one of its most attractive points. In arrange- ment, drawing, and expression, they are perfect. Being immediately in front of Ananias, and having a more complete view than the other persons present of the dreadful catastrophe, in this group the artist has concentred the intensest emotion. The male figure may be supposed to represent Joses or Barnabas, who, immediately before the account of Ananias and Sapphira,* is mentioned among those converts that sold their estates for the common benefit, and laid the produce at the apostles’ feet.” He was of a Jewish family of the tribe of Levi, settled in Cyprus ; and is the same who was afterwards associated in the apostleship with St. Paul. The peculiar garments of this distinguished person, the fashion of which is repeated in the group behind the falling Ananias, * Acts, iv. 36. THE DEATH OF ANANIAS. 113 seem to indicate a stranger in Jerusalem. In his ingenuous comitenance and perfect form, horror and amazement are depicted. He has nearly fallen, from excess of emotion, but supports himself on one knee. This action, in consequence of its cause be- ing shared by her, is communicated to his companion: she, however, with a movement of alarm natural to her sex, has turned away, and is preparing to escape fi’om the appalling spectacle, on which her eyes are, notw ithstanding, intensely rivetted. This female is a model of natural beauty, exalted by the elegancies of an easy and refined station. The head, in particu- lar, is of finished elegance. The horror of these per- sons appears to be enhanced by the habitual freedom of their condition and circumstances from exposure to the loathsome contact of vice, with its hideous and degrading consequences. The interest rests in the next degree upon the in- dividuals who lean over the falling man. Great originality of conception is shown in the figure nearest the spectator. Nothing can be more natural or characteristic than his attitude. It expresses curiosity, timidity, and personal apprehension, espe- cially in the retraction of the knee, and the expansion and throwing back of the arms, but none of the 114 THE DEATH OF ANANIAS. excitability of the principal figure in the group last described ; even the countenance expresses but little emotion. His companion seems, from the form of his garments and his earnest, but not perturbed, sympathy, to be one of the apostles. He is endea- voming to direct the attention of the death-striken wretch to St. Peter, the executor of the divine ven- geance, as if, perhaps, suggesting that a repentant appeal for mercy might yet avail to save him. Beyond these four persons on the foreground, the dreadful occurrence has not yet been perceived by the people : in the more distant part of the space represented, they are seen occupied in several ways, consistent with the accessory circumstances sup- posed to complete the story. Thus a contrast is es- tablished between the remote and advanced groups, whereby the quiescence of the more distant heightens the emotions by which the nearer are agitated ; and at the same time the imagination is filled by the vast variety of incident, and the understanding satisfied by having the history in all its completeness placed before the eye. The episodes, or subordinate inci- dents in these pictures are, almost without exception, introduced with consummate judgment. These in the Death of Ananias have been the frequent sub- THE DEATH OF ANANIAS. 115 ject of eulogistic commentary. It has been re- marked, that the action of the figures of this sub- lime artist generally enables a spectator to conceive what they must have been doing immediately before, as well as what they are about to do ; and the same remark is in a more striking degree applicable to the groups, in their total character. The persons who appear on the right of the apos- tles, represent the wealthier members of the Chris- tian church, bringing their offerings to the general fund. Among these the most remarkable is the wo- man employed in counting money. From the scru- pulous care with which this is done, and the vexation expressed in her countenance at the prospect of parting with her treasure, she has been commonly considered to represent Sapphira, the wife of Ananias. According to the letter of the Sacred History, Sap- phira did not come into St. Peter’s presence until about the space of three hours after” her husband’s death ; on which account some critics, as if afraid to make the painter guilty of an anachronism, have seemed willing to doubt whether she be really the person designed. It was, however, quite consistent with the superior genius of Raffaelle, thus to dispense with exactness in an unimportant incidental fact, in 116 THE DEATH OF ANANIAS. order to accomplish a much higher object. In the two persons bringing in presents of linen, there may be a reference designed, to what is said in the sixth verse, that as soon as Ananias was ascertained to be dead, “ the young men arose, wound him up,” in linen, as was the custom of the Jews, and carried him out.” The countenances of these persons express modesty and benevolence, consistently with the good work in which they are employed. Of a higher order, however, is the episode which completes this fine composition, on the other side. This is in itself a picture. It was a beautiful thought, to place the tender-hearted John apart from the main action, at such a moment. In that temble retributive process he could not have shared, without pain; while it goes on, therefore, he is engaged, more suitably to his character, in relieving and bless- ing the distressed objects of the common bounty. The venerable individual who assists St. John in the business of ministering to the necessitous members of the church, is probably intended for his brother, St. .lames. The receivers of the apostles’ bounty are figures scarcely less attractive. Two well-attired youths. THE DEATH OF ANANIAS. 117 probably orphans, whom the loss of their natural protectors has reduced to the condition of pensioners on the funds of the church, kneeling before the holy men, look timidly up in expectation that their help- less state will plead for them when their turn arrives. By one of those judicious strokes, which are every- where observable in the works of Raffaelle, the first of these meek suppliants has his back turned towards the horror-struck persons who surround Ananias ; by which means his unconsciousness of the awful event that has occurred so near him, is made to ap- pear the more natural. The subdued patience of these youths is contrasted by the importunate de- meanour of the poor man in the act of receiving money from the hands of the apostle, in whom age imparts a more pitiable character to poverty. Further on, the character of human suffering is again varied, and the beauty of benevolence enhanced, by the in- troduction of the two women, probably a mother and her daughter, whose countenances, worn by sickness and want, exhibit the excitement of hope newly awakened and yet struggling with habitual depres- sion. Nor is the group of the decrepit old man assisted by his child, in the farthest distance, with- out its object : these figures serve to vary the re- gularity of the composition, which might otherwise 118 THE DEATH OF ANANIAS. have appeared too formal, and at the same time con- tinue the interest of the subject. They have ob- tained the relief they needed, and are retiring with grateful hearts. Over this portion of the picture, to which the eye not unwillingly escapes from the horror of the scene in front, and the awful grandeur of the assembly of apostles, it lingers with peculiar delight. Here it finds diffused the purest spirit of Christianity. Never did pen or pencil trace a more exquisite com- mentary on the words of him who himself forms the attractive centre of the scene : Whoso hath this world’s good, and seeth his brother have need, and shutteth up his compassion from him, how dwelleth the love of God in him ? My children, let us not love in word, but in deed and in truth.”* How whole- some the lesson, which the delightful interchange of benevolence and thankfulness, as here depicted, may convey to our modern system-builders, who would refuse the sweet luxury of either senti- ment to mankind, by excluding practical charity from the world, or by at least raising an insurmount- able barrier against the kindly intercourse between 1 John, iii, 17, 18. THE DEATH OF ANANIAS. 119 giver and receiver; thus depriving mercy, not only of its attribute as twice blessed” — “ In blessing him that gives and him that takes,” but of the best portion of its blessedness to either party ! We may seem to our readers to have lingered long over this picture ; yet so profound is the intelligence, so perfect the judgment, and so pure the execution it displays in every part, that scarcely half has been said, which the genuine warmth of admiration sug- gests. A glance however at some of those secondary means, whereby the wonderful effect of it on the spectator’s mind is produced, is all that can be now indulged. The stage on which the apostles are standing, while it serves to elevate their figures to the height required by the general disposition of the grouping, also marks the period represented. The steps and rails, which appear to have been recently erected for the use of the apostles, indicate the church in its infancy. That sacred enclosure, appropriated to those only who minister in holy things, but con- 120 THE DEATH OF ANANIAS. structed with a regard to convenience alone, be- speaks the simplicity and poverty of an infant insti- tution : yet the general effect is redeemed from mean- ness, by the curtain suspended behind. The strong and irregular lights and shadows, on the objects in the foreground, are in harmony with the violent nature of the chief incident : the shadows especially, flung in broken fragments on the pavement, denote the sudden and impassioned gestures of the cha- racters depicted. At some risk of tediousness, the reader is again reminded of the wonderful excellence of Raffaelle, in the draping of his figures : in the united quali- ties of variety, appropriateness, breadth, and ele- gance of the draperies, this Cartoon has not been surpassed. In short, whether we look to the power of con- veying a complete impression of historical incident — to the knowledge of human nature, indicated in every attitude and countenance — to the skill with which the artist has availed himself of his mecha- nical resources — or to the solemn moral impression left upon the mind by a contemplation of the re- THE DEATH OF ANANIAS. 121 suit, we may, perhaps, in any or all of these re- si^ects, 'with propriety place this work as high in the scale of art as any which has been left us even by its incomparable author himself. RalFaelle,pmx‘ ^ A .W . W.orrei: , l.cu.lp' / ■. •^- -Vh. 'j!.- . ''s--^- ;■ • .- > ■ -T J-; Ji''-* .... .—W-^:y ■M< „ \ .... -m-l^ :'^iP:^^.': '' V"' ■^- ’ . .F ^ - ‘'.V, ;, . « :- - -V" . Lf.-.-t lA.-' ! i' ' 'i' ' ''' >:,?T . •> '*■ JKi ■'*,• CARTOON V. ELYMAS THE SORCERER STRUCK BLIND. ActSj xiii. 6 — 12. CAETOON V. ELYMAS THE SORCERER STRUCK BLIND. Milton, in that noble lyric, the Ode on the Morning of Chrisfs Nativity, has described, in the most ani- mated strains, the dissolution of the whole hierarchy of pagan deities, whom the personal advent of the True God would' deprive of their sway over the abused minds of men. The effect of that event, through every province of their usurped empire, he compares to the influence of the sun, at his rising, on the sprites and goblins of superstition assembled at their orgies beneath the shades of night “ The flocking shadows pale Troop to the infernal jail, Each fetter’d ghost slips to his several grave ; And the yellow-skirted fayes Fly after the night-steeds, leaving their moon-lov’d maze.” 126 ELYMAS THE SORCERER STRUCK BLIND. The learned poet only sets forth, in the vivid co- lours of his art, what in the character of a theolo- gian he probably held for facts. If we may receive an opinion on this subject, common in the Christian church down to comparatively recent times, the re- luctance and regret with which the various per- sonages of the ancient mythologies are represented, in this fine Ode, as submitting to their banishment “ to profoundest hell,” was no fiction: — “ The lonely mountain o’er And the resounding shore, A voice of weeping heard and loud lament ; From haunted spring and dale, Edg’d with poplar pale. The parting genius is with sighing sent ; With flower-inwoven tresses torn The nymphs in twilight shades of tangled thickets mourn ! ” The fathers of the church believed, that the fallen angels, taking advantage of that apostacy of man- kind, to which they had themselves originally se- duced the progenitors of our race, propagated the deception and perpetuated the misery of their vic- tims, by taking possession of sanctuary and shrine — of the grove of Baal and the tripod of Apollo — where a priesthood, at once the instruments and the dupes of the “ father of lies,” honoured him with costly rites; and whence were sent oracles which he ELYMAS THE SORCERER STRUCK BLIND. 1*27 inspired, either immediately, or by means of his auxiliaries, the innumerable “ spirits accursed,” who were under his controul. A natural corollory from this belief was, that those evil spirits did not, without a struggle, resign — “ their power To be iofring’d, their freedom and their being, In this fair empire won of earth and air,” — confirmed and consolidated, as the possession had been, through the increasing religious dimness of almost four thousand years. Hence it is, that some writers account for the ex- traordinary firequency of demoniacal possessions in the age of the gospel ; Satan, because he knew that his time was short,” having extended his empire, to include with the souls also the bodies of men. Such an increased demonstration of Satanic infl.uence, it is thought, may have been permitted by Providence, as a means of manifesting the divine authority of Christ in its defeat. It certainly would appear, from the Acts of the Apostles, that, in those ages, whatever may have been the fact in earlier or later times, the popular 128 ELYMAS THE SORCERER STRUCK BLIND. belief that prophecies and oracular responses pro- ceeded from demons, who inhabited the persons of the professors of magical arts, was not wholly delu- sion. The evangelist evidently speaks of the dam- sel, mentioned chap. xvi. 16, who had “ a spirit of divination,” (irvzvjULa ttvOwvoq), as no designing im- poster, but an individual of whom an evil spirit had taken possession.^' Whether the subject of the ani- mated and dramatic composition now before the reader refers to a similar instance, is more doubtful. The apostles Paul and Barnabas having been, by divine authority, specially appointed to preach the gospel among the Gentiles, immediately departed from Antioch, at which place the appointment was signified to them, and proceeded to Cyprus. This island was celebrated for its wealth and luxuiy, but still more for those peculiar immoralities, which were fostered by the sensual character of heathenism. Commencing their ministry at Salamis, on the eastern coast, the two apostles traversed the island and ar- rived at Paphos, a city proverbial for its devotion The “ magicians,” “ enchanters,” and “ witches,” spoken of in the Old Testament, appear likewise to have been persons who really had dealings with spirits, and did not merely deceive by pretending to such a commerce. ELYMAS THE SORCERER STRUCK BLIND. 129 to the voluptuous and abominable worship of ^^enus^ — — Ubi templum illi, centumque Thurse calent aree, sertisque recentibus halent. Where garlands ever green, and ever fair, With vows are offer’d and with solemn prayer ; A hundred altars in her temple smoke. Vino. .®n. i. Cyprus was a province of the Roman empire, governed at that time by a proconsul.^ This officer, by name Sergius Paulus, hearing of Paul and Barnabas, and either moved by the immediate suggestion of the Holy Spirit, or merely conceiving it to be his duty, as a magistrate, to make himself acquainted with a sys- tem of faith which seemed likely to cause important revolutions in the empire, sent them an invitation to appear and expound their doctrines in his presence. * The correct application of this title (drOvTrarog translated in our version, “ Governor,”) to Sergius Paulus, is shown by several commentators, in particular by Paley. Augustus, in the begin- ning of his reign, divided the provinces into two classes, one of which he made over to the senate, and reserved the other for him- self. In the provinces belonging to the emperor, the governor’s title was propreetor, in those belonging to the senate, proconsul. “ Now,” observes Paley, “ it appears from Dio Cassius that the province of Cyprus, which in the original distribution was as- signed to the emperor, had been transferred to the senate in ex- change for some others ; so that at this time the title of procon- sul was appropriate.” 130 ELYMAS THE SORCERER STRUCK BLIND. The proconsul’s purpose was opposed by the in- terference of a certain Jew, resident in his family, named Barjesus, or Elymas, the Sorcerer,* who passed with his own nation for a prophet, but among the Greek inhabitants of Paphos, as a magician. That this person was something more than alow juggler, or crafty deceiver, may not unfairly be inferred from the narrative which relates his miraculous punishment. The peculiar terms of St. Paul’s rebuke, likewise, and the importance which the apostle seems to have attached to the removal of the impediment which he opposed to the progress of the gospel, naturally led to the conclusion that he had entered into a more serious league with its spiritual enemies, t Be this as it may, Elymas endeavoured from malignant, if not sordid, motives, to prevent the apostle’s dis- course from taking a favourable hold on the mind of Sergius ; conduct which the zealous messenger of the truth fervently resented, and punished by the fatal infliction represented in the Cartoon. Fixing his eyes on his magian adversary, he exclaimed: * Barjesus was properly his name — EXv/xa^, a word of Arabic origin, being merely a title, implying the same as magus, the wise. t The reader who has the somewhat antiquated curiosity of wishing to know what may he said on both sides, respecting the question of the inspiration of heathen oracles, may find the argu- ments for the affirmative in the work of the Jesuit, Daniel Clusen, De Oraculis ; and for the negative in Van Dale. ELYMAS THE SORCERER STRUCK BLIND. 131 “ O full of all subtility and all mischief, thou child of the devil, thou enemy of all righteousness, wilt thou not cease to pervert the right ways of the Lord ? And now behold the hand of the Lord is upon thee, and thou shalt be blind, not seeing the sun for a sea- son. And immediately there fell on him a mist and a darkness ; and he went about seeking some one to lead him by the hand.” The impression already produced by the powerful language of the apostle, was confiimed by this mira- culous event. Sergius Paulus became a convert to Christianity ; and it is an opinion not unworthy of attention, that the apostle, who till this time bore his Hebrew name of Saul, first took the name Paul from this remarkable conversion, and perhaps by de- sire of the proconsul. A more perfect subject for the pencil could not readily be found. It is a subject of great moral weight and dignity. The introduction of the gospel into the focus of the impurest of heathen idola- tries — the public defeat and punishment of a malig- nant adversary, wLo, by his reputed wisdom had been the means of confirming many in the errors of superstition, — the accession of a Roman of rank and 132 ELYMAS THE SORCERER STRUCK BLIND. power to the list of Christian converts — the appear- ance of St. Paul, the hero of apostolic history, now for the first time seen engaged in the commission especially confided to him, as the apostle of the Gentiles” — above all, the occurrence of this event on the extreme borders of the eastern world, whence the knowledge of it would be rapidly transferred to the regions of the west, — are circumstances which, together, stamp it with remarkable interest and im- portance. It is likewise admirably adapted to the peculiar resources of the painter’s art. How hap- pily varied — or, rather, contrasted — are the principal persons of the story : — the representative of the im- perial master of the world, become a pupil in the school of Christ — the missionary of heaven, great in the simple majesty of his office — the discomfited magician, shrinking and shuddering in the midst of that sudden night which has enwrapped him — a type of the mist and darkness within his soul ! The more excellent his materials, the more as- sured we may be, that the man of consummate genius will produce, by their combination, a result worthy of them. RafFaelle has here brought us, not into a crowded ELYMAS THE SORCERER STRUCK BLIND. 133 and confused judgment-hall, but before a calm de- liberative assembly. Great things are to be an- nounced — words of moment to be uttered. A wide space is therefore left unoccupied, between the speaker and the principal hearer, round which the persons are disposed. St. Paul, a figure of matchless dignity and force, is so placed as to receive a portion of the grandeur which distinguishes him, from the management of the light. He is in the act of denouncing ven- geance on the culprit ; the principal light, thrown over his shoulders and passing from fold to fold of his ample robe, proceeds along his arm, and ter- minating at his pointing finger, carries with it the force of an electric discharge,”^ His threatening- expression, and the collected greatness of his whole form, including the magnificent drapery, indicate that superhuman authority to which the outstretched hand imparts direction and gives fearful effect. We have here a man fitly chosen for the grandest and most affecting part, one only excepted, in that di- vine epos (to borrow a bold expression) in the later scenes of which ourselves are included — that true Holloway. K 134 ELYMAS THE SORCERER STRUCK BLIND. 7roLr)}jia, of which the Second Person of the Trinity, incarnate, was the hero ! The contrasted figure of Elymas has frequently, and justly, been cited as a triumph of skill. How wonderfully it expresses blindness — and not blind- ness merely, but a deprivation of sight, sudden, total, unexpected. The truth of the terrible situation, to which, through his malicious perv^erseness, the sor- cerer is reduced, is diffused over every feature and through every limb. It is seen equally in the stoop- ing and shrinking head — in the arms, feebly, but eagerly, groping for the lost light — in the lower limbs, which, while instinctively protruded, to sup- port the tottering frame, instinctively turn inward also, at the extremities, for the purpose of avoiding obstructions. Descending to still minuter indica- tions, the closed eye, the collapsed features, the open mouth — more than all, perhaps, the hands, which convey, with a degree of truth almost painful in the sympathy it excites, the idea of a sudden demand upon the sense of feeling, to come in aid of extin- guished sight — denote a stricken wretch, smitten with blindness — with the curse of blindness ; for the spectator feels assured, from the entire aspect of the man, that the visitation is supernatural : he reads ELYMAS THE SORCERER STRUCK BLIND. 135 in every trait a disposition which could have incurred it at the hand of heaven. In passing from the sorcerer to the proconsul, the person who occupies the third degree in the gradation of interest, the eye meets a figure im- mediately contiguous to the former, which, sub- ordinate as it is, powerfully arrests regard by the justness and vivacity of its expression. It represents a plain, unpolished character — a man, we may sup- pose, on whose honest simplicity the sorcerer had heretofore successfully imposed. His look of in- tense inquiry, directed to the eyes of Elymas, ap- pears relaxing into astonishment, mixed with rising indignation against detected villany. The upraised hands, while they harmonize wdth these mingled sentiments, express farther, by a slight but pecu- liar retraction, a desire to avoid coming in contact with the blinded wretch now unconscious of his direction. In Sergius Paulus, we have a type of the milder and more ingenuous of the Roman magistrates ; and such he must have been, who desired to hear the truth from the enlightened preacher, and so candidly yielded conviction to what he had heard. He ap- 136 ELYMAS THE SORCERER STRUCK BLIND. n pears to have been listening with attention and re- spect to the eloquent apostle, when Elymas, entering on a sudden, rudely inteiTupted the discourse. Hence the proconsul’s countenance retains an air of dis- pleasure, which it must have assumed on his turning round to reprove the intruder. The deep interest he feels in the event which has followed, is seen in his position and gestures. These betray the utmost emotion, consistent with official dignity. With difficulty he refrains from rising ; and in the ex- tension of his hands, as if in sympathy with the smitten sorcerer, we trace the involuntary effect of the feelings which agitate him. The learned artist has correctly and beautifully represented the cos- tume of the Roman magistrate : the ample robe, the wreath of bay, the elegant sandals, are all drawn with grace and propriety. On the proconsul’s left, a Roman gentleman, attending in some official capacity, explains, to another behind him, what has happened to Elymas. The concern shown by these persons is shared also by the lictors, who occupy the steps of the tribunal, on his right ; but with this difference, that in the lictors it is rather natural commiseration with the sufferer, than an intelligent sense of the cause and ELYMAS THE SORCERER STRUCK BLIND. 137 origin of the infliction. Some heads introduced between tlie second lictor and the coimtenance of St. Paid, carry on, in a lively manner, the general sentiment. Imediately behind the miserable Elymas, appears a group — a subordinate or episodic picture — full of animation and intelligence. A person of a tall and upright figure, strongly contrasted with the stooping sorcerer, indicates by gestures what has passed, to a woman, who emerges from the crowd. This woman is probably the wife of Elymas. Rushing forward, she points indignantly towards St. Paul ; and appears to be clamourously denouncing him as the author of her husband’s affliction. A venerable old man, earnestly observing the apostle, seems to deliberate, before deciding on the propriety of what is taking place, in a manner agreeable to his age and charac- ter. Another aged countenance, beautifully designed, is observed to share his thoughtful hesitation. Two more countenances complete the group ; on one of which, apparently that of an individual whose corpu- lence prevents his making his way readily to the front, the most eager curiosity is depicted. ‘‘ The sublime and pious countenance of Barna- 138 ELYMAS THE SORCERER STRUCK BLIND. bas, who is placed on the right of St. Paul, reminds the spectator of the divine nature of the apostolic mission, which for a moment had been diverted from its original object. He casts his eyes upward, and indicates, by his devout regard and uplifted hand, the source and dependence of that miraculous power, which was not only imparted to punish wickedness, but to confirm the truth of the Christian doctrine in the conversion of the proconsul.”* The Cartoon of Elymas,” though not one of the largest in the series, nor containing such a rich abundance of figures as some others, is however replete with the characteristic excellences of the master. In appropriate and effective distinction of character, in the varied expression of sentiment, and in the skill with which the whole of the his- torical incidents are conveyed to the mind, com- prising the nicest markings and discrimination of de- tail, without any sacrifice of historical dignity — it is inferior to none. The grouping of the figures we think faultless : the accessories, also, are appropriate and skilfully Holloway. ELYMAS THE SORCERER STRUCK BLIND. 139 managed. The beauty of the architecture, the simple dignity of the proconsular tribunal, the richness of the pavement, satisfy the eye of taste, without ob- truding on the attention. One feels an airiness and space — a sense of sufficient breathing-room,” dif- fused through this scene, which in the best pictures is sometimes wanting. The final impression left on the mind, however, has relation, not to the artist, or his performance, as a work of art, but to the subject itself. We quit the contemplation of this Cartoon deeply impressed with the spiritual might of those principles, which, di- rected by means in themselves feeble, and instruments contemptible to the eye of sense, vanquished prejudice, subdued hostile power, and, surmounting all opposi- tion, have recommended themselves to the enlightened conscience of mankind — to the better self in each human being; until they are acknowledged, by all the noblest human communities, as the true source of every precious social improvement; while by indi- viduals they are felt to be the means of regeneration from a fallen state — the strength of the believing soul on earth — the grounds and elements of its hope in the awful hereafter ! / PAUL AND BARTLABAS AT LYSTB^. jWiv;* CARTOON VI. PAUL AND BARNABAS AT LYSTRA. Acts, xiv. 8 — 18 , CARTOON VL PAUL AND BARNABAS AT LYSTBA. By whatever terms we define genius, a correct defini- tion must include the highest intellectual powers, employed in the production of new combinations and results ; but on what objects in particular em- ployed, must be determined by those circumstances, in the case of each individual, which form his tastes or characterise his condition. The word genius, in popular usage, is applied with the greatest frequency to highly-gifted per- sons who have devoted themselves to the pm'suits of the poet, the painter, and the sculptor ; the rea- son of which may be, that in such pursuits there is the most manifest scope for the inventive faculty. The investigations of science, the arts of govern- ment, and even the spirit of adventiue, may present a fit sphere for the exercise of the highest and most 144 PAUL AND BARNABAS AT LYSTRA. comprehensive abilities ; but the results of these are less easily appreciable by the generality, and less obviously referrible to the unaided operations of the intellect. Hence, when the idea of a man of genius is suggested to the mind, it refers, for the historical realization of it, rather to Dante, to Hubens, or to Scott, than to Lycurgus or to Alfred, to Colum- bus, or Bacon. It would be difficult, neverthe- less, to furnish any tolerable definition of genius, which would not admit equally both these series of names. That the use of the pencil (not to speak here of the more congenial employments of the poet and the musician) does not disqualify the man of genius for the severer and more immediately useful labours of the diplomatist or the mathematician, has been demonstrated in the instance of Rubens in the seventeeth, and that of the illustrious Lionardo da Vinci in the sixteenth century. The latter, though chiefly famous as an exquisite painter, is one of the most perfect instances on record of what is familiarly called a universal genius. We are disposed, however, to maintain the real universality of genius of the highest order, in every PAUL AND BARNABAS AT LASTRA. 145 instance where true genius exists. That in each case it displays itself by some peculiar tendency, is the in- evitable result of a peculiar combination of circum- stances. And well it is that such exists, for the special determination of every richly endowed intel- lect; since life is too short for the effectual employ- ment of its powers, unless thus determined by prefer- ence to some limited career. The mind of RafFaelle was so determined, not merely by the accidents of his birth and education, but by that inscrutable bias, which, in each of the cardinal eras of the world, has inclined some of the finest contemporary intel- lects to the same study ; and this study being, in consequence, canned to the highest perfection, has been regarded in future times as characterizing the era. The era of Kaffaelle — at least in Italy, still, in his times, the centre of civilization — was the era of the fine arts, more especially of painting. But that Raffaelle’s was one of those universal — those catholic minds, which, under different in- fluences, might have applied with distinguished, if not quite equal, success to any other intellectual pursuit, admits of proof from an examination of any one of the pictures in this illustrious series ; 146 PAUL AND BARNABAS AT LYSTRA. and from no one of them more unquestionably than from the Cartoon now before us. Put aside those talents peculiar to the artist, which are the fruit of study and practice-^ — the skill shown in the composition of the groups, the accuracy and precision of the drawing, the arrangement of the lights and shadows ; we shall still find, in what remains, indications of a mind which, in any other sphere worthy of its exercise, must have risen to eminence. We shall find the imagination of the poet — the pathos of the orator—the knowledge of the historian — the wisdom of the moralist — judg- ment the calmest and most considerate; above all, that unfailing but indefinable quality of genius, (if it be not rather the result of all its qualities in action,) the power of rousing the sympathies of all men by its own intense sympathy with all ! What- ever the Author of our nature has assigned to the leader of an army or the founder of a state — to the historian, “ the prophet of the past,” or to the bard who gives vitality to external nature and the shapes of the imagination, and interprets all the throbbings of the heart, — all those qualities must have had a latent being, in the mind which could have thrown PAUL AND BARNABAS AT LYSTRA. 147 off, with so much facility, as one of the thousand issues of its intellectual wealth, such a w^ork as the Cartoon of Paul and Barnabas at Lystra ! The subject of this rich, varied, and animated pic- ture, is as follows. The apostles, to whom was in- trusted the ministry of the gospel among the Gen- tiles, having quited Cyprus, the scene of the judg- ment on Elymas, returned to the continent of Asia ; and after visiting several other cities arrived at Lystra, a town of Lycaonia. Their reception in those parts, owing to the cabals raised against them by the Jews, who were dispersed through every Grecian state, had hitherto been unfavourable. It was, perhaps, on this account that they thought fit, when a proper opportunity presented itself, to en- deavom’ to produce a desirable impression on the people’s minds by means of a miracle. Such an opportunity occurred at Lystra, in the case of a man who from his birth had been lame and unable to walk. Perceiving that this afflicted person was well disposed towards the truths of the gospel, St. Paul addressing him, and at the same time fix- ing his eyes steadily upon him, said, Stand up- right on thy feet ! ” and the man leaped and walked.” 148 PAUL AND BARNABAS AT LYSTRA. In those early dispersions of mankind, by means of which regions remote from the primitive seat of the race became peopled, they carried with them to their new settlements some traditional fragments of the patriarchal religion — truths which the philoso- phical enquirer everywhere meets with, as the ground- work whereon, in succeeding ages, ignorance, super- stition, fancy, and imposture, combined to embroider the wild and various inventions of heathen mytho- logy. An important part of the divine government, in those primitive ages, consisted, as we know from the only authentic history of them, in occasional communications of the will of God by the mouth of angelic messengers, who appeared and conversed with mankind. This was a fact which, however dis- torted, was not likely to be erased from the minds of succeeding generations; whence the idea of visitants from the unseen world, was familiar to the ancients. The Lycaonians, therefore, religious people after their fashion, had no sooner witnessed the won- derful effects of this miraculous cure, than, having no notion of the power of working miracles being con- ferred on mere men, they concluded, that they were now themselves honoured by such a visit. They lifted up their voices and said, ‘ The gods are come PAUL AND BARNABAS AT LYSTRA. 149 do^^Ti to US in the likeness of men.’ And they called Barnabas, Zeus, or Jupiter ; and Paul, because he was the chief speaker, they called Hermes.” The report of this extraordinary event quickly spread through the city, and it was resolved to celebrate the appearance of their divine guests with the sacred honom’s which seemed due to them. “ Then the priest of Jupiter brought oxen and garlands unto the gates, and would have done sacrifice with the people.” This was a consequence equally terrible and un- expected, to the apostles. They appear to have been utterly unprepared for a proceeding so shocking to persons of their humble and pious character, as themselves becoming the object of that idolatrous worship, from the use of which they were zealously seeking to withdraw their benighted fellow-creatures. In the utmost alarm and agitation they rent their clothes,” according to the custom of their country- men, when overwhelmed by indignation or grief, and ran in among the people, crying out, and say- ing, ^ Why do ye these things We also are men of like passions with you, and preach unto you that ye should turn from these vanities unto the living God, which made heaven and earth, and the sea, and all L 150 PAUL AND BARNABAS AT LYSTRA. things that are therein.” With which and similar arguments and remonstrances scarce restrained they the people, that they had not done sacrifice unto them.” The point of time represented, is that immediately preceding the critical moment, when, by means of their passionate entreaties and violent emotion, Paul and his companions succeeded in suspending the sacrifice. The two apostles have hastily as- cended some steps at the entrance of a magnificent temple. Though this we may suppose to have been in order that they might with gveater effect dis- suade the multitude from their purpose, it at the same time places them in the position necessary to bring the whole subject most effectively before the eye, and imparts a commanding superiority to their appearance. In St. Paul’s figure, notwithstanding the passion- ate earnestness of his action, there is both majesty and grace. He fronts the misguided multitude ; yet reverts his face, as not enduring to behold the im- pious rites which are about to commence. He is in the act of tearing open his garments — a mode of expressing horror and distress so foreign to our PAUL AND BARNABAS AT LYSTRA. 151 manners, that the force and propriety of the action are scarcely intelligible to the common observer ; it however displays the person to advantage. The folds of the beautiful drapery are, by the lifting and extension of the arms, brought tight round the lower limbs; thus showing the strength and elegance of the form and attitude, and leaving the exquisitely drawn feet and ancles exposed. Trouble and distress of mind are no less forcibly depicted in the air and attitude of Barnabas. The clasped hands and the simultaneous raising of the heel from the ground, (the latter, especially, an action expressive of the utmost mental disturbance,) are in perfect harmony with the compassion for mistaken piety, and the horror at such an unhappy conse- quence of the benevolent miracle, which are depicted in his truly evangelical countenance. The apostolic character of both is faithfully and admirably shown. The mind, which requires in historical painting, not the delineation of the bare insulated fact, but the embodying of its own general idea, is satisfied, that thus, at such a crisis, must have appeared those divinely endowed messengers of truth — those “ legates of the skies.” It is useless L 2 152 PAUL AND BARNABAS AT LYSTRA. to object that St Paul is believed, from tradition, and from his own language respecting himself, to have been of short stature, and devoid of personal dignity, — that it is not probable that the Lycaonians would have assigned the higher title to Barnabas and the inferior to Paul, “ calling Barnabas Zeus, and Paul Hermes i'' unless their personal appearance had, relatively to each other, warranted this distinc- tion. What the artist had to depict, was the respec- tive moral and intellectual features of the two men ; the one as the great apostle of the Gentiles, the much-enduring” hero of apostolical story; the other as his pious and affectionate coadjutor; to effect which, his art afforded no other resources than such personal traits as the mind admits to be respec- tively significant of these characters. It may like- wise be added, with reference to the second of these objections, that a particular reason is assigned why the inhabitants of Lystra supposed Paul rather than Barnabas to be Hermes, (or the interpreter of the gods,) viz. because,” says the historian, he took the lead in the discourse.” Notwithstanding the urgent exclamations of the apostles, the preparations for the solemnity proceed. The sacrificing priest has already raised his axe. PAUL AND BARNABAS AT LYSTRA. 153 and in the next moment it would descend upon the head of the victim. His assistant, on the other side, kneeling on one knee, fixes the creature’s head to receive the blow, by grasping its horn with one hand, and with the other its nostril. Appended to the girdle of each of these officiators is a case of dissecting instruments, intended, as soon as life is extinct, to lay open the viscera for the inspection of the soothsayers, who, crowned with garlands, kneel by the animal’s side. Next to the chief sacrificer stands the priest of Jupiter (the Flamen Dialis of the Romans), distinguished by the infiila, or white bandage round his temples ; by his side, a second priest of rank : others inferior in dignity appear be- yond. This fine ceremonial group has been pointed out as one of the instances in which the great painter did not refuse to adapt to his purpose the ideas of others. It is taken in great part from a basso-relievo, since published.* In allowing himself such an occa- sional appropriation of materials provided by his predecessors, Raffaelle only agreed with the greatest masters both in art and literature, in a practice Duppa, Life of Raffaello di San.zio. 154 PAUL AND BARNABAS AT LYSTRA. which, even were it unsanctioned by such autho- rity, would scarcely need a serious defence. To avoid the necessity of recurring to the subject, we mention here such other portions of the Cartoons as are well known to have been taken from any source besides his own inexhaustible mind. The figures of St. Paul in the punishment of Elymas, and that of the same saint in the preaching at Athens, are both copied after studies made by him in his youth, from Masaccio ; as is also a remarkable figure, in the latter Cartoon, of a person wrapped in profound thought. In the instance now before us, Raffaelle probably thought, that by transferring to his Cartoon the sculptured representation, he should effectually se- cure that minute accuracy, which may in a subject of this kind be desirable ; nor did he regard it as of * The following observations of Mr. Duppa will probably be found satisfactory, should the reader desire a vindication of the practice, which, in the above and other instances, Ralfaelle sanc- tioned by his adoption. They are the more readily inserted here, inasmuch as they contain some hints to which both artists and patrons of art, in the present day, would do well to attend. “ Much has been said,” observes that writer, “ on the subject of plagiarism, and critics have ever been ready to estimate the value of what is quoted or borrowed by the narrowness of their own views. Invention, with its highest claims, depends on the happy combination of materials already known, or in finding out new combinations where they are before supposed to exist. He who can with a glance discriminate perfection, and make the dis- PAUL AND BARNABAS AT LYSTRA. 155 any importance, in such a case, to be able ,to claim the credit of originality. The painter of the Cartoons never went out of his way, to seek occasions for the display of mere ana- tomical knowledge ; when, however, they naturally presented themselves, he could show that he was not inferior, in drawing the naked figure, to those artists whose fame rests more particularly on this species of excellence. The sacrificer, in this Car- toon, with his uplifted axe — the grandest of sacred butchers-— would have done honour to the daring pencil of Buonaroti : his fellow, though of less Her - culean proportions, is drawn with beauty and exact- ness. Again, how truly characteristic of a religion in which there were mystery without morality, crimination his own, owes as much to his own genius as to those who gave him the opportunity of exercising it. But little minds would rather he originally wrong, than not he supposed to pos- sess a creative fancy ; and it is worth remarking, in the history of art, as well as literature, that those who have heen desirous to distinguish themselves hy eccentricity, have at best heen only the meteors of the day. A painter may distort the human figure in a thousand different ways, unlike anything that has ever heen, and wiU then most prohahly deserve only the credit of being wrong. Men of superior genius are impelled forward by laws arising out of general principles ; and to accomplish their object, they adopt the best means to that end, wherever they can be found .” — Life of Raffaello. 156 PAUL AND BARNABAS AT LYSTRA. solemnity without seriousness, and fanaticism with- out genuine faith, are the other attendants — the stoled” hierophants and kneeling aruspices ! On the wild, peculiar countenances of the latter, more especially, are legibly stamped the traces of their mysterious office. Nor must the victim be passed over without remark. He is a magnificent speci- men of those perfect animals of this species (j36eg TtXeioi), which alone were permitted to be offered to the gods. Two other figures, which forcibly seize the atten- tion, properly belong to this group. The first is the young man who endeavours to prevent the sacrifice. This is one of those happy creations, by means of which art calls into activity the purest and most benignant feelings. Endowed with all the natural graces of youth and beauty, he is farther recommended to our sympathies by a quick sense and earnest love of truth, and by the anima- tion of pious zeal. Of all that multitude, he alone appears to appreciate justly the character of the apostles : only he is able to distinguish between their personal claim to respect as holy men, and the reli- gious veneration due only to that authority which en- PAUL AND BARNABAS AT LYSTRA. 157 abled them to perform the miracle of healing. Disen- gaging himself from the surrounding crowd, he rushes forward, throws himself across the unconscious ani- mal, and checks the fatal stroke. The impetuosity of his motion is clearly apparent in his hair, which it causes to fly back on his neck and shoulders. His action marks the exact moment of time represented ; and nice observers have discovered a proof of its success, in the relative position of the sacrificer’s hands. Had that stern ofiiciator not been interrupted in the act of delivering the blow, instead of the right hand being, as it now is, brought upwards towards the head of the axe, whereby the descent of it is suspended, both would have been seen together, near the extremity of the haft. Timothy, to whom two of St. Paul’s most beauti- ful epistles are addressed, was a native of Lystra, or its neighbourhood ; and as, a few years subsequent to the event here depicted, on the apostle’s second visit there, that disciple, yet a young man, was se- lected for his zeal and proficiency in the gospel to accompany St. Paul in his travels, it is probable that his first impressions of Christian truth were imbibed on the present occasion. Hence the youth referred to, has been commonly supposed to represent that 158 PAUL AND BARNABAS AT LYSTRA. amiable convert ; that such was the artist’s intention, can scarcely be doubted. Raffaelle, who was well acquainted with scripture history, is not likely to have omitted an obvious occasion of enriching his design with a kind of charm in which he delighted ; nor is there anything connected with the appear- ance of the youth who interrupts the sacrifice at Lystra, which we cannot fairly identify with the son of Eunice and grandson of Lois. The second figure is not so intelligible. The place and costume of this person would indicate a priest. But instead of bearded manhood, we have here the features of a youthful female ; instead of copying the demure formality of her companions, she directs her looks, beaming with affectionate admiration, to- wards the apostles. Perhaps the wives and daugh- ters of the heathen priests sometimes mingled with them in the ceremonies — a circumstance, of which Raffaelle may have availed himself, to interpose a figure which pleasingly softens the violence of the contrast between the ingenuous ardour of the Christian neophyte, and the statue-like air of the re- presentatives of a heartless and exhausted faith. A group next presents itself, the principal object PAUL AND BARNABAS AT LYSTRA. 159 in which is the poor man who has been healed. This figure is perfect. Most speakingly does it express the devout attempt of a soul, condemned, through many a weary year, to the coarse constrained lodg- ment of a crippled frame, to proclaim its joy and gratitude ! Read the tale of past suffering and pre- sent relief, in the wan but delighted features, in the uplifted and compressed hands, of the man ; and hav ing done so, then behold depicted, in the inferior limbs and the accessory circumstances, the fact and method of his restoration. It was by means of no gradual cm'e that those limbs, which now so firmly support his weight, and carry him forward with so much alacrity, received their present vigour. There — but recently become needless — lie the crutches which supported his frame, and the bandage that bound the infirm limb: meanwhile his fellow- citizens ga- ther round, and wondering, assure themselves by ocular proof, that the frame which they had known from infancy to be weak and distorted, is now really ‘‘ made whole.” The foremost of these inquisitive persons is a very admirable delineation. The head of the old man is magnificent ; nor less to be admired is the action of the hands, as with the one he respectfully lifts the gar- 160 PAUL AND BARNABAS AT LYSTRA. ment from the limb, and with the other indicates his surprise and conviction. He is a person of rank and influence ; his ample brow and beard wear the impress of habitual authority ; his elaborately enriched san- dals denote his wealth. Two others, engaged in the same manner, seem to be equally absorbed in fixed attention ; but, one with profounder awe of the mira- culous agency, the other with livelier satisfaction at the result. The first of these is also an extremely fine head. From the varied and tumultuous character of the throng behind, we perceive that this thing was not done in a corner.” The whole city appears in motion. Spectators flock in on all sides, pre- senting the contrasted countenances and familiar incidents observable on such occasions. In the midst of the crowd are seen other sacrificial attend- ants, conducting a second bull, an offering to the second supposed deity. In their haste, they move onwards more rapidly than some of those who are collected on the spot are able or willing to make way for them. One individual in particular — a Ro- man, from his appearance — perhaps a consul or other ofloLcial personage, for he wears a crown of bay — turns angrily round, and seems to restrain his indig- PAUL AND BARNABAS AT LYSTRA. 161 nation only from respect to the solemnity of the occasion. Some heads further on are not less alive with indi- vidual character, and general interest. An ancient matron, distinguished by the strong expression in her countenance, of conviction respecting the real character of the apostles, and fervent acknowledg- ment of the miracle performed, directs towards them the regard of her more juvenile companion ; while the latter hesitates, and timidly restrains her feelings. Admitting the youth in the act of advancing to be Timothy, why may we not conclude the artist to have had here in his mind his female relations, of whom St. Paul makes such honourable mention ? ^ With what a profusion of intelligence Raffaelle could animate the remotest parts of his canvass, without either exhausting his invention, or (such is the intensity of life and meaning which he con- centrates about the focus of the interest) too much diffusing the attention, we have an example in the remarkable countenance which appears on the very verge of the picture. Self-importance could not be more powerfully represented, than in this * 2 Tim. i. 5. 162 PAUL AND BARNABAS AT LYSTRA. person ; he is doubtful about the whole proceeding — not because he has examined for himself, but because the thing has been done without his being consulted. Reverting now to that side of the composition where our observations began, the eye rests on the athletic figure, who is leading in a ram — another intended otfering to the imaginary Jove and Hermes. He is of that class termed by the Romans victimarii, whose office it was to provide victims for the al- tars. He also wears a garland ; as did all who officiated in the sacrifices, in order to recommend themselves to the gods. His stooping attitude is natural, and necessary to secure the animal, and prevent its struggling, which was regarded as an ill omen; besides which, however, the composi- tion required some such inclined object in this situation, to contrast wdth and give support to the tall upright figures of Paul and Barnabas. The timid glance of respect, which this person directs upward towards the apostle, is — as, doubtless, it was designed to be — much more expressive of belief in the reality of a divine presence, than the formal gravity of the flamens. A charming incident in this work, and one which PAUL AND BARNABAS AT LYSTRA. 163 greatly contributes to its delightful variety, is pre- sented by the children at the altar. Lamenting the eiTors, and carried away by the impetuous passions of men, the mind finds agreeable repose in the inno- cent carelessness of childhood. The foremost of these blameless ministers ‘‘ of rites unholy,” — he who so gracefully holds the thurarium, or box con- taining incense for perfuming the smoke of the altar — seems, for an instant, to forget his function, while, with the feeling natural to his age, he admires and compassionates the unconscious victim, which so patiently abides its fate. His companion, a boy of equal but differently characterized beauty, the auletes or flute-player of the occasion, heeds nothing but the soft notes, w^hich, in honour of the immortal visitants (as they are deemed) of his native city, he breathes through his biformed instrument, the fa- vourite musical accompaniment of the Greek and Roman sacrifices. Nor is the altar itself unentitled to, notice. It shows, at least, with how much patient labour the greatest of artists condescended to finish inani- mate objects. Its proportions, as well as the ex- quisite beauty of the execution, are worthy of his hand. 164 PAUL AND BARNABAS AT LYSTRA. The entire background of this picture is painted with even more than the usual care, bestowed by Raifaelle on this part of his works. It is not, indeed, strictly Greek — pure Greek architecture was very little known in Raffaelle’s time, even in Italy. But it is no less magnificent, and more various and pic- turesque, than if it had been pedantically and coldly correct. Besides, there can be no doubt, but that in the first century of the Christian era, most cities of Asia Minor contained buildings in the comparatively composite taste in use among the masters of the world. Notwithstanding every disposition to compress what we desired to say, within the most compendious limits, we have now occupied a disproportionate ex- tent of our pages with the description of this Car- toon, while yet much remains unsaid : but we will not be tempted to proceed. Here, then, w^e dis- miss the intended Sacrifice at Lystra, recommend- ing it to the reader’s peculiar attention, as one of the finest in a matchless series of productions — ^ “ A labour worthy of eternal youth. / M PAUL PREACHING AT A Til EATS - rp CARTOON VIL PAUL PREACHING AT ATHENS. Acts, xvii. 22 — 32. M CARTOON VIL PAUL PREACHING AT ATHENS. No other spot on earth has been the scene of such varied and brilliant displays of intellect, as Athens. It was here that every noble pursuit of the human mind — legislation, poetry, oratory, art — was, in a comparatively short space of time, and starting from the lowest point, carried to a degree of perfection which has since been reached but by few competitors, and by them in no more than a few departments. But the most honourable testimony to the genius of Athens is borne, notwithstanding all their imper- fections, by her schools of philosophy. It is doubt- less true, that each of the systems taught in them has its peculiar vices and imperfections-imperfec- tions universally incident to the efforts of the human mind, in this most difficult branch of enquiry — vices M 2 168 PAUL PREACHING AT ATHENS. derived from the characters, moral and intellectual, of those individuals with whom the respective sects originated. When, however, we consider, what great difficulties lay in their way, and, especially, through what long, circuitous, and polluting me- diums, they received those few broken rays from the fountain of revealed truth, to which they were indebted, we shall find reason rather to admire and applaud, than to despise or censure those pro- foundly ingenious thinkers, and shall be thankful to that all-ruling Providence, which supplied, by their means, even so much light in the midst of heathen darkness, — though, indeed, a light “ Dim as the borrow’d beams of moon and stars,” — until the day dawned, and the day-star arose.” Yet, however entitled to om: applause, as the pro- duct of well-intentioned and high-thoughted minds, to our gratitude, as containing such a substitute for revelation as was of temporary use, especially in preparing the heathen for the gospel dispensation, it ought not to surprise us that those systems were found, in the persons of the leading philosophers of the time, to oppose themselves to it at its first intro- duction. Every description of pride and prejudice. PAUL PREACHING AT ATHENS. 169 national, sectarian, and private, would naturally be excited in their favour, as assailed by a code of faith and morals, laying claim to a superior source and requiring exclusive adoption, but coming to them from a distant and despised region, and promulged by a poor unattended missionary. Nevertheless, when it came to be generally known in Athens, that a philosophical teacher, calling him- self by an unknown name, had come among them from the Hebrews, and was employed in discoursing strange things” to the devout emigrants of his own nation, and to some persons of the lower orders among the native inhabitants, the apostle readily obtained a hearing before the rich also and learned. The restless intellect of the Athenians, no longer occupied with political affairs of interest, eagerly attached itself to every new subject of enquiry,* es- pecially in matters of religion, to which they were much given, t The apostle was in a short time en- * “For all the Athenians and strangers which were there spent their time in nothing else, hut either to tell, or else to hear some new thing.” Acts, xvii. 21. t The word dsL(ndaiixove(rT£povg^ applied by St. Paul to his Athenian hearers, was not designed by him to bear an offensive or unfavourable sense : it only means, that they were more de- voted than others to religious worship. Had the Avord imported 170 PAUL PREACHING AT ATHENS. countered by some philosophers of the leading sects, who, after their manner, were disposed to treat him and his doctrine with contempt. Perceiving, how- ever, that he was introducing among them an entirely new faith, and a new God — for so they appear to have understood him, when he spoke of Christ and his resurrection — their curiosity was more seriously roused. They began to think him more worthy of attention than their prejudices had permitted them to suppose. They therefore brought him to the Areiopagus, the principal court of judicature in the city, to which the senators and other distinguished persons habitually resorted, in order that he might have an opportunity of stating, in the most public manner, what those doctrines were which he had undertaken to disseminate. St. Paul did not decline so favourable an opening. Placing himself in the midst of the Areiopagus, on an elevated spot, from whence he could look down upon the proudest mo- numents of the mistaken piety of the Greeks, he addressed to an audience at once the most intelli- to the apprehensions of a Greek the same sense that “ supersti- tious” (by which it is rendered in our version of the New Testa- ment) bears to ours, we may he sure that St. Paul, who to the fearless simplicity of the preacher, united the courtesy of the gentleman, and the prudence of the accomplished orator, would have avoided it on such an occasion. PAUL PREACHING AT ATHENS. 171 gent and the most frivolous on the face of the earth, that celebrated sermon, which has so often been admired both for its aptitude and its pa- thos. In this picture, then, the reader beholds Christi- anity brought into public collision with the mytho- logy of Greece : the former represented in the per- son of a single, itinerant, but divinely supported apostle ; the latter, by the contemporary heads of the several sects of philosophy, and by the senators and youth of renowned Athens. It was a subject to draw forth the powers of a great painter. There could not of course be a moment’s question, to what character the eye ought, in the treatment of this subject, to be first directed. But it is not merely the imposing dimensions and prominent situ- ation of St. Paul, which point him out as the hero of the piece, but likewise his distinguishing attitude and expression. What is chiefly to be admired in this fine figure, is its characteristic propriety. In this respect, it has never been surpassed. The St. Paul of Baftaelle is not merely an orator — although in attitude, action, and expression, inspired by the noblest spirit of eloquence ; he is not merely a pro- 17*2 PAUL PREACHING AT ATHENE. phet — though in the wild sublimity and mysterious penetration of his glance, the prophetical seems a leading characteristic ; he is not merely a philoso- pher — and yet, the love of truth, acquaintance with its profound revelations, and intrepid devotedness to its cause, animate every part of his figure. He is all these, and more. We at once recognise in him the embodied idea of an apostle — the greatest of the apostles. We recognise the messenger, commis- sioned immediately from heaven, to intei'pret God to man, man to himself, — to submit the creature to the Creator, and to raise the fallen and earthly to divine perfection and glory ! His eye is fixed above, and declares a soul full of heaven : his arms appear to embrace and seek to hold fast that immortal prize,” which he so eloquently enjoined his converts to ob- tain. He has probably arrived at that argument against idolatry, which was the occasion of his being interrupted by the levity of some and the impatience of others : The times of this ignorance God winked at, but now commandeth all men everywhere to re- pent ; because he hath appointed a day in which he will judge the world in righteousness, by that Man whom he hath ordained ; whereof he hath given as- surance unto all men, in that he hath raised him from the dead.” PAUL PREACHING AT ATHENS. 173 The skill shown in arranging the majestic folds of the apostle’s mantle, contributes much to the effect of the figure ; nor, in a critical examination of this work, may we omit to mention the piece of drapery which is brought back over the shoulder. By means of this little circumstance a balance is supplied to the figm'e, without which the eye would not be sa- tisfied, and at the same time greater breadth and variety of outline are given to the important mass of light thrown over this portion of the picture. If, beginning with the persons placed behind the apostle, the eye be carried round to the other extre- mity of the semicircle in which his hearers are com- prised, we shall immediately be struck with the beautiful gradation from the extreme of bigoted re- sentment to the most unreserved and affectionate faith. The group which occupies the latter point, con- sists of the two figures on the foreground. These are Dionysius, a member of the court of Areiopa- gites, and Damaris, whom the sacred historian has recorded among the converts at Athens.^ In both Acts, xvii. 34. 174 PAUL PREACHING AT ATHENS. these persons is discovered a virtuous disposition, exalted by the refinements of education, adorned by external beauty, and now farther enhanced by the sweet complacency diffused over their coun- tenances, by a recent admission to the enlight- ening truths and ennobling hopes of Christianity. The head of Dionysius is exquisite for drawing and expression ; not less worthy of remark are the cor- responding action and expressive drawing of the hands ; while, as usual in these works, his garments appear to partake in the general sentiment. Again, what consistency and charm in Damaris ! The per- fect sweetness and ingenuousness of her countenance, seem as it were to jioiv down over the hair and dra- pery ; in the former especially, which ( simplex miin- ditiis) is freely but neatly arranged, is indicated a character of female purity and candour, admirably contrasted with the majority of the persons intro- duced into the picture : such as the Dionysius and Damaris of this work, we feel assured, must have been those individuals who were the “ first fruits” of St. Paul’s ministry in the most tasteful and intel- ligent of the Grecian cities. Next, directly in front of the apostle, are seen four philosophers listening. It is with great pro- PAUL PREACHING AT ATHENS. 175 priety that the artist has collected in this point the individuals of greatest note among Paul’s auditory : he has thereby consulted the dignity of his character, and set off the force of his eloquence. Perhaps art presents nothing more highly intellectual than this wonderful group of thinking figures, each so ab- sorbed in attention, yet all so varied and indivi- dualized. The first in this group is altogether a remarkable figure. Complete abstraction of thought could not be more felicitously expressed. He has unconsci- ously folded his arms and muffled his cloak round him, as if retiring within himself for meditation ; his head, in the meantime, sinks on his bosom, and is half-buried in his drapery, and his eyes, directed downwards to exclude every object that might distract attention, appear closed. Sir Joshua Reynolds has well remarked, that there is so happy a correspondence between the expres- sion of the countenance and the disposition of the parts, in this figure, that it appears to think from head to foot. This person probably represents a Stoic. His neighbour is easily discovered as the Cynic — 176 PAUL PREACHING AT ATHENS. one of nature’s martyrs.”* His air and attitude likewise denote attention — fixed, concentrated atten- tion ; but mingled with disapprobation, ready to burst out in bitter invective against the speaker. His impatience is intimated, in a very natural man- ner, by the raising of his heel, and the restless mo- tion of his knee. Equal attention, again, but in a surprisingly con- trasted character, marks the third individual. The placid disciple of Epicurus cannot be here mistaken. The calm, erect posture of the head — the open un- wrinkled brow — the motionless drapery, beneath which are concealed the unemployed hands — the feet, quiescently parallel, — combine to express that habitual easy satisfaction in the present, which it was the object of the Epicurean philosophy to promote. In his mild countenance we read satis- faction, without deep interest — approval of the speaker’s good intentions, but not conviction from his arguments. Quite in character, too, is that gen- tly compassionate expression — that inclination to a melancholy smile, which plays over his fine features, while he reflects on the mortified habits, and what * Donne. PAUL PREACHING AT ATHENS. 177 lie deems the romantic opinions and views, of the apostle. He is altogether a singularly prepossessing personage. There is also much significancy in the remaining figure, which though withdrawn somewhat apart, enters into this group. Rafiaelle has given no obvi- ous indications of the sect to which this individual belongs ; but he has shown the worldly prudence of the man by making him place his finger on his mouth, to impose silence on himself, in regard to the impres- sion produced on his mind by the address of the apostle, lest by a confession of it he should com- promise his credit. The intermediate space, between the character last mentioned and the apostle, is filled by a knot of persons of various ages, disciples, perhaps, of Plato or Aristotle, engaged in discussing some one of the novel propositions just delivered. The bearded sage behind, on the right, appears to have just uttered some opinion, the justice of which he is enforcing, by an action which indicates his fami- liarity with the strict forms of argument, to two of his equals in years ; while two young men, seated in front, turn round towards them, one apparently to 178 PAUL PREACHING AT ATHENS. deprecate interruption, the other to throw in an an- gry remark, which he seconds by a gesture, expres- sive of violent disapprobation, directed towards the apostle. This group well merits attentive examina- tion. It is in a high degree natural and animated, in particular the two foremost individuals. The positions of the low^er limbs of these persons, as affected by the action of suddenly turning, are ex- pressed with great truth, in the arrangement of the drapery; which in correspondence with the move- ments beneath, is, in one case, drawn into broad masses by the separation of the feet, and in the other is left to fall in rich folds by their retrac- tion. There was a reason, besides the mere probability that among so many persons some would adopt that posture, why this group was drawn sitting. Both greater compactness and propriety are thereby given to the principal part of the auditory, considered as one group, and at the same time no other figure in- terferes, in any degree, with the imposing statoe and erect dignity of the apostle. The remaining three persons belong to classes, different from those whom the speaker more directly PAUL PREACHING AT ATHENS. 179 addi’esses : they represent the less educated of the citizens, the strangers, and idlers in Athens. As far, or farther, from approving the sentiments of St. Paul, as the philosophers, on the other side, their feelings of dislike are evidently of a meaner and more malignant stamp. The corpulent person who stands next to the in- spired orator, and regards him with a look of min- gled astonishment and anger, is plainly of a gross and cruel nature, a man whose indolence yields to the energy necessary to action, only when stimulated by the violence of his passions. He has been supposed by some critics to be a Jewish rabbi. His neigh- bour, a wild mysterious figure, with tangled hair and beard, may be designed for one of those sorcerers, or pretended workers of miracles, who abounded in those times among the Jews, and some of whom seem to have tracked the steps of the apostles in their journeys, afiecting, with the opposite intention of bolstering the decaying fabric of Judaism, to perform the like miraculous works. A third individual glares on the speaker with all the savage cunning of a wild ani- mal, ready to spring on his prey. He has seated himself, and is crouching down to avoid notice or interruption ; lest any thing falling from the speaker. 180 PAUL PREACHING AT ATHENS. Avhich he might go and report to his disadvantage, should escape his notice. In order to assist in giving the desired prominency to the principal figure, a gloom is spread over the whole of this part of the picture, with the exception of the figm'e last described : on it a portion of light is permitted to fall, in such a manner as to com- bine pleasingly with the larger mass which distin- guishes the apostle, without detracting from its prominence. Beyond the semicircle of listening philosophers, several younger persons, probably their disciples, appear at intervals ; all of whom, without exception, indicate in their countenances marked dissatisfac- tion : this is natural to persons of their age, on hear- ing impugned, by a nameless stranger, those dog- mas which they had been taught to hold in respect. In every situation where these youths are intro- duced, they contribute to the fullness and agreeable outline of the groups : the youthful head, for instance, almost immediately behind the apostle, was needed to break the uniformity of the two parallel lines, made by the shadow-side of the figure and the dark line of the architecture. PAUL PREACHING AT ATHENS. 181 Two persons in oriental costume, intended, no doubt, for Jews, appear to be retiring from a scene which their prejudices render insupportable to them. The background and adjuncts are most judiciously managed to combine in promoting the complete ef- fect of the composition. The statue of Mars, ap- propriately turned towards his temple, is a spirited form, and admirably associated with the living groups. On the foreground, the marble pavement impresses the spectator’s mind with the idea, that he is in the midst of a magnificent city. That the architecture in this picture, like that in the in- tended sacrifice at Lystra, presents some anachron- isms, detracts so little from the value of this cele- brated work, as scarcely to deserve serious notice. The writer of these remarks has now reached the close of his pleasing labours. Himself of the very opposite temper to that which is nothing if not critical,” he has, from mental habit, as well as from a wish to do justice both to his readers and his subject, endeavoured rather to assist the student of the Cartoons to admire and love the wonderful excellencies of these works, by leading him to contemplate them from the same point of view as N 182 PAUL PREACHING AT ATHENS. they were seen from by their illustrious author, than, by adopting the contrary method, to point out minute imperfections, and dw^ell on trifling inaccuracies ; rather to implant the living principle of enjoyment and profitable delight, than to confirm the sterile faculty of coldly judging. The spirit in which this great artist wrought, de- mands such a temper in studying his works. The style of the Cartoons is not ornamental, but epic. Raffaelle has nowhere sought mere beauty ; he has aimed at the higher qualities of expression and character, employing these with a view to make art the means of exalting the human mind, by its con- nexion with morality and religion. He left the de- lineation of beauty, as the direct object of art, to a very inferior race of painters — to Guido, to Carlo Dolci, to Guercino. And having accomplished his aim, with a completeness which leaves nothing to be desired, and an apparent facility the most as- tonishing, it is fit his productions should be ap- proached with that teachableness in the student, which includes humility without slavishness, and admiration undegraded by blind idolatry. To the merit of rich colouring, an excellence PAUL PREACHING AT ATHENS. 183 SO much thought of in England, and on which the fame of some foreign schools entirely rests, the Cartoons do not pretend. However delightful those gorgeous combinations of tint, which chiefly distinguish the productions of several enchanting artists, may be on proper occasions, they would have been out of place here. Raflaelle painted mainly to the heart and mind, not to the eye. At the same time, it should be remembered, that the Cartoons are not now, in this respect, precisely^ what they were : time, neglect, and ill-usage have disturbed the harmony and defaced the beauty of the colouring. Still, however, when the patient spectator has accustomed, and thereby reconciled his eye to their appearance, he will not fail to discover in these works a sober beauty and tasteful adjustment of tints. As far as regards handling, a quality in painting which may be considered to rank not far below colour, they are admirable : whether every touch be Raffaelle’s or not, in freeness, light- ness, and decision, they have never been excelled. It is remarked by Richardson, “ that the draperies of the apostles are always the same in all the Cartoons; only,” he observes, “ St. Peter when he is a fisher- man has not his large apostolical drapery on. This apostle, when dressed, wears a yellow drapery over 184 PAUL PREACHING AT ATHENS. his blue coat ; and St. John a red one over a green ; so does St. Paul.” The mental power necessary to the production of such works, being as rare as it is admirable, and among the very noblest of the Creator’s gifts to his creatures, is entitled to the high respect both of man- kind in general, and of its few favoured possessors. If a divine instinct and guidance is in Scripture attri- buted to the inventors of arts merely mechanical, and useful in the external affairs of life;* may we not properly regard with reverence and admiration, as the depositaries of especial gifts, imparted by the Giver of all good, those individuals who have been the most illustrious in the intellectual arts ; arts which we not improperly call creative ; in- asmuch as the principle of these is identical with that on which God himself proceeds in his works — the combination of particulars in subordination to some oiiginal general idea, so as to produce a result both true and beautiful, — and therefore equally adapted to enlarge the mental enjoyments, and to promote the higher, the enduring welfare, of man- kind Especially entitled are they to such regard. See Exodus, xxxi. PAUL PREACHING AT ATHENS. 185 when duly and legitimately exercised, according to the intention of the donor ; as they eminently were in the case of the gentle and pure-minded Raf- faelle, whose pencil, delighting chiefly in sacred subjects, and on no occasion stooping to a mean and low, much less polluted by pandering to a merely voluptuous, taste, seems happily to have been employing in tracing No line which, dying, he could wish to blot.” LONDON; JOSEPH RICKERBY, PRINTER, SHERBOURN BANE. / ■i ( . ■ ■ I j i; \ \ V,;-’ • ■ K '■ ‘t ■■ ,* ■■ ■' I;-/'? ■'. '■ ;■•. '• :' 5-' 1 ' / ■ ;; Jf"? ' - ■>¥«:' ' ■ '■ *«/ . ■ ■ miM a-,.; -V'; i«i’4'' . ' *■'-• ■ • ■ . 1' ' '¥ .■\v /■ .■•'■ ’^’v. / ■•- 'v¥-. ’V',' ' •' " ASt.'.yv'Vl'y .'®A:,'' ■ .lyk''--;, .’'-A ,: • . ■ imk/ '/k\'y¥A'-V,:' . fiv '{’ k.i>. ,-' . ''■■ '■ v, ‘- .'■‘f ' ■ ' . ■' iS- '■ ■> ’ /' > -i ' . 'rl^X 'r ■ ,.A/ Vyav ■■•-/ 'i- ‘ ' ’’li- .’■ r ■ '\ • .;■ ' y • • d* *' ry-/v, ■ ‘>V Ji?-': VV. i KiW' JJIJI7-