Chapter I: Part 1

Transcriber’s Notes

Obvious typographical errors have been silently corrected. Variations in hyphenation and accents have been standardised but all other spelling and punctuation remains unchanged.

The woodcut number 48, The Symbol of St. Matthew. _Mosaic._, does not exist.

On page 191, in the section on St. Peter and St.Paul, ĪC̄. X̄C̄. is an near approximation of the actual symbol.

Italics are represented thus _italic_, bold thus =bold= and superscripts thus y^{en}.

Sacred

AND

Legendary Art.

VOL. I.

THE LATEST EDITIONS OF MRS. JAMESON’S WORKS ON SACRED AND LEGENDARY
CHRISTIAN ART.

The Fifth Edition, in 2 vols. square crown 8vo. with 19 Etchings on
Copper and 187 Woodcuts, price 31_s._ 6_d._

LEGENDS of the SAINTS and MARTYRS as represented in the Fine Arts, forming the FIRST SERIES of ‘Sacred and Legendary Art.’ By Mrs. JAMESON.

II. LEGENDS of the MONASTIC ORDERS. Third Edition, with 11 Etchings and 88 Woodcuts. 1 vol. 21_s._

III. LEGENDS of the MADONNA. Third Edition, with 27 Etchings and 165 Woodcuts. 1 vol. 21_s._

IV. HISTORY of OUR LORD as exemplified in Works of Art. By Mrs. JAMESON and Lady EASTLAKE. Second Edition, with 31 Etchings and 281 Woodcuts. 2 vols. 42_s._

⁂ Of these 312 Illustrations, all prepared specially for the ‘History of Our Lord,’ nearly one-third of the whole number have now been engraved for the first time.

‘We have in these volumes, penned in a truth-seeking spirit and illustrated with a copious generosity which at once elucidates and adorns each section of the subject, contributions to the literature of CHRISTIAN ART, for which every artist and every student of theology will confess debt of private gratitude. To thoughtful inquirers, richest mines are here opened for meditation. To minds prepared for deeper draughts to quench the thirst for knowledge, wells are dug and fountains are made to flow even in the desert tracks of time where pilgrim’s foot seldom attempts to tread. We think that Lady EASTLAKE has done special service in bringing into popular view recondite stores which have hitherto been sealed for public use. She has, by appeal to the early heads of Christ in the Catacombs, by reference to Christian sarcophagi of the fourth century, to ivories as old as the sixth century, and Greek MSS. and Byzantine miniatures of the ninth century, enabled the art-student to tract the history of types and antetypes, and to analyse the rudimentary germs which, from age to age accumulating strength and growing in comeliness, at length issued forth in perfected pictorial form. _It is to this, the infancy of art, that at the present moment peculiar interest attaches._’ BLACKWOOD’S MAGAZINE.

Sacred

AND

Legendary Art.

BY MRS. JAMESON.

VOLUME I.

CONTAINING

LEGENDS OF THE ANGELS AND ARCHANGELS, THE EVANGELISTS,
THE APOSTLES, THE DOCTORS OF THE CHURCH,
AND ST. MARY MAGDALENE,

AS REPRESENTED IN THE FINE ARTS.

_SIXTH EDITION._

LONDON:
LONGMANS, GREEN, AND CO.
1870.

LONDON: PRINTED BY
SPOTTISWOODE AND CO., NEW-STREET SQUARE
AND PARLIAMENT STREET

PREFACE

TO

THE THIRD EDITION.

The Author ventures to hope that, on comparing this Third Edition of ‘Sacred and Legendary Art’ with the two preceding, it will be found greatly improved, and rendered more worthy of the kind approbation and sympathy with which it has been received. The whole has been carefully revised; the references to the pictures and other works of Art corrected from the latest authorities, and many new examples have been added. All the Illustrations, which were formerly etched on copper, have been newly etched on steel; two have been omitted, and three others, as more interesting and appropriate, have been substituted; and twelve new woodcuts have been introduced. In a work so multifarious in its nature, and comprising so many hundred subjects and references, there may remain some errors and omissions, but they have not occurred from want of care; and I must not omit to express due thanks for the observations and corrections which have been forwarded to me from time to time, and which have been in this Edition carefully attended to.

A. J.

_January 1857._

PREFACE

TO

THE FIRST EDITION.

(1848.)

This book was begun six years ago, in 1842. It has since been often laid aside, and again resumed. In this long interval, many useful and delightful works have been written on the same subject, but still the particular ground I had chosen remained unoccupied; and, amid many difficulties, and the consciousness of many deficiencies, I was encouraged to proceed, partly by the pleasure I took in a task so congenial—partly by the conviction that such a work has long been wanted by those who are not contented with a mere manual of reference, or a mere catalogue of names. This book is intended not only to be consulted, but to be read—if it be found worth reading. It has been written for those who are, like myself, unlearned; yet less, certainly, with the idea of instructing, than from a wish to share with others those pleasurable associations, those ever new and ever various aspects of character and sentiment, as exhibited in Art, which have been a source of such vivid enjoyment to myself.

This is the utmost limit of my ambition; and, knowing that I cannot escape criticism, I am at least anxious that there should be no mistake as to purpose and intention. I hope it will be clearly understood that I have taken throughout the æsthetic and not the religious view of those productions of Art which, in as far as they are informed with a true and earnest feeling, and steeped in that beauty which emanates from genius inspired by faith, may cease to be Religion, but cannot cease to be Poetry; and as poetry only I have considered them.

The difficulty of selection and compression has been the greatest of all my difficulties; there is not a chapter in this book which might not have been more easily extended to a volume than compressed into a few pages. Every reader, however, who is interested in the subject, may supply the omissions, follow out the suggestions, and enjoy the pleasure of discovering new exceptions, new analogies, for himself. With regard to the arrangement, I am afraid it will be found liable to objections; but it is the best that, after long consideration and many changes, I could fix upon. It is not formal, nor technical, like that of a catalogue or a calendar, but intended to lead the fancy naturally from subject to subject as one opened upon another, with just sufficient order to keep the mind unperplexed and the attention unfatigued amid a great diversity of objects, scenes, stories, and characters.

The authorities for the legends have been the _Legenda Aurea_ of Voragine, in the old French and English translations; the _Flos Sanctorum_ of Ribadeneira, in the old French translation; the _Perfetto Legendario_, editions of Rome and Venice; the _Legende delle Sante Vergini_, Florence and Venice; the large work of Baillet, _Les Vies des Saints_, in thirty-two volumes, most useful for the historical authorities; and Alban Butler’s _Lives of the Saints_. All these have been consulted for such particulars of circumstance and character as might illustrate the various representations, and then compressed into a narrative as clear as I could render it. Where one authority only has been followed, it is usually placed in the margin.

The First Part contains the legends of the scriptural personages and the primitive fathers.

The Second Part contains those sainted personages who lived, or are supposed to have lived, in the first ages of Christianity, and whose real history, founded on fact or tradition, has been so disguised by poetical embroidery, that they have in some sort the air of ideal beings. As I could not undertake to go through the whole calendar, nor yet to make my book a catalogue of pictures and statues, I have confined myself to the saints most interesting and important, and (with very few exceptions) to those works of Art of which I could speak from my own knowledge.

The legends of the monastic orders, and the history of the Franciscans and Dominicans, considered merely in their connexion with the revival and development of the Fine Arts in the thirteenth and fourteenth centuries, open so wide a range of speculation,—the characteristics of these religious enthusiasts of both sexes are so full of interest and beauty as artistic conceptions, and as psychological and philosophical studies so extraordinary, that I could not, in conscience, compress them into a few pages: they form a volume complete in itself, entitled ‘Legends of the Monastic Orders.’

The little sketches and woodcuts are trifling as illustrations, and can only assist the memory and the fancy of the reader but I regret this the less, inasmuch as those who take an interest in the subject can easily illustrate the book for themselves. To collect a portfolio of prints, including those works of art which are cited under each head as examples, with a selection from the hundreds of others which are not cited, and arrange them in the same order—with reference, not to schools, or styles, or dates, but to subject merely—would be an amusing, and I think not a profitless, occupation. It could not be done in the right spirit without leading the mind far beyond the mere pleasure of comparison and criticism, to ‘thoughts more elevate and reasonings high’ of things celestial and terrestrial, as shadowed forth in form by the wit and the hand of man.

CONTENTS

OF

THE FIRST VOLUME.

PAGE
PREFACE v

INTRODUCTION:

I. Of the Origin and general Significance of the Legends represented
in Art 1

II. Of the Distinction to be drawn between Devotional and Historical
Subjects 11

III. Of the Patron Saints of particular Countries, Cities, and
Localities 18

IV. Of certain Emblems and Attributes of general Application 23

V. Of the Significance of Colours. Conclusion 35

OF ANGELS AND ARCHANGELS.

OF ANGELS. Antiquity of the Belief in Angels. Early Notions respecting
them. How represented in the Old Testament. In the New Testament.
Angelic Hierarchies. The Nine Choirs. Seraphim, Cherubim. General
Characteristics in Painting. Infant Angels. Wings. Angels of Dante.
Angels as Messengers, Choristers, Guardians. As Ministers of Wrath.
As Agents in the Creation. Manner in which the principal Painters have
set forth the Angelic Forms and Attributes 41

THE ARCHANGELS. The Seven Archangels. The Four Archangels. The Three
Archangels 87

ST. MICHAEL 94

ST. GABRIEL 118

ST. RAPHAEL 126

Additional Notes on Angels 131

THE FOUR EVANGELISTS.

The earliest Types: as Four Books; as Four Rivers; as the Four
Mysterious Animals; the Human and Animal Forms combined; with Wings;
as Men 132

ST. MATTHEW. His Legend. His Attributes. Pictures from his Life not
common 143

ST. MARK. His Legend. Devotional Pictures: as Evangelist; as the
Disciple of Peter; as the Patron Saint of Venice. The Legend of the
Fisherman. The Legend of the Christian Slave. The Translation of the
Body of St. Mark 147

ST. LUKE. His Legend. Devotional Figures. Attributes: as Evangelist
and Painter. St. Luke painting the Virgin 154

ST. JOHN. His Legend. Devotional Pictures: as Evangelist; as Apostle;
as Prophet. Subjects from his Life; Legend of St. John and the Robber;
of the two Young Men; of Drusiana; of the Huntsman and the Partridge.
The Martyrdom of St. John. Legend of the Death of St. John. Legend of
Galla Placidia. Of King Edward the Confessor 157

The Six Writers of the Canonical Epistles, as a series 172

THE TWELVE APOSTLES.

Ancient Types: as Twelve Sheep; as Twelve Doves; as Twelve Men. How
grouped in Ecclesiastical Decoration. In the Old Mosaics; their proper
place. Examples from various Painters. Historical Subjects relating to
the Twelve Apostles: the Pentecost; the Separation of the Twelve
Apostles to preach the Gospel; the Twelve Baptisms; the Twelve
Martyrdoms 173

ST. PETER and ST. PAUL. The Ancient Greek Types. Examples of the early
Treatment of these two Apostles: in the old Mosaics; in early
Sculpture; in Pictures 185

ST. PETER. His peculiar Attributes: as Apostle and Patron Saint; as
the Head and Founder of the Roman Church; St. Peter as Pope. Subjects
from the Scriptural Life of St. Peter. Legendary Stories connected
with St. Peter. The Legend of Simon Magus; of the ‘_Domine, quo
vadis?_’ of Processus and Martinian. The Martyrdom of St. Peter.
St. Peter as Keeper of the Gates of Paradise. The Legend of St.
Petronilla. The Life of St. Peter in a Series of Subjects 193

ST. PAUL. Earliest Type. Attributes of St. Paul: the Sword. Subjects
from his Life. Stoning of Stephen. Conversion of St. Paul. The Vision
of St. Paul. Miracles of St. Paul. His Martyrdom. The Legend of
Plautilla. The Life of St. Paul in a Series of Subjects 212

ST. ANDREW. The Legend. Attributes. Historical Subjects from the Life
of St. Andrew. Flagellation. Adoration of the Cross. Martyrdom as
represented by Guido, Domenichino, and Murillo 226

ST. JAMES MAJOR. Story and Character as represented in Scripture. St.
James as Patron of Spain. The Legend of Santiago. The Battle of
Clavijo. The Pilgrims of Compostella. The Devotional Figures and
Attributes of St. James the Apostle. As Tutelar Saint of Spain.
Pictures from his Legend 230

ST. PHILIP. The Legend of the Idol and the Serpent. Devotional
Pictures and Attributes. Subjects from his Legend. Distinction between
St. Philip the Apostle and St. Philip the Deacon 241

ST. BARTHOLOMEW. The Legend. The Attributes. Martyrdom 244

ST. THOMAS. Origin of his peculiar Attribute. The Legend of King
Gondoforus. The Incredulity of St. Thomas. The Legend of the ‘_Madonna
della Cintola_.’ Martyrdom of St. Thomas 245

ST. JAMES MINOR. First Bishop of Jerusalem. Attributes. Resemblance to
Christ. Subjects from his Life. Martyrdom. Frescoes at Padua 250

ST. SIMON AND ST. JUDE. Legend and Attributes. Represented as
Children 252

ST. MATTHIAS. Attributes 254

JUDAS ISCARIOT. Scriptural Character. Legends relating to him; how
represented in various Subjects 255

THE LAST SUPPER. Its importance as a Sacred Subject. Devotional when
it represents the Institution of the Eucharist. Historical when it
represents the Detection of Judas. Various Examples. Giotto. Duccio of
Siena. Angelico da Fiesole. Luca Signorelli. Ghirlandajo. Albert
Dürer. Leonardo da Vinci. Raphael. Andrea del Sarto. Titian.
Poussin. 261

Faults and Mistakes committed by Painters in representing the Last
Supper 273

ST. BARNABAS. His Legend. Popular at Venice as Kinsman of St. Mark.
Represented with the Gospel of St. Matthew 278

THE DOCTORS OF THE CHURCH.

THE FOUR LATIN FATHERS. Their Particular Attributes. Their proper
place in Ecclesiastical Decoration. Subjects in which they are
introduced together 280

ST. JEROME. History and Character. Influence over the Roman Women.
Origin of his Attributes. Legend of the Wounded Lion. Devotional
Figures of St. Jerome: as Patron Saint; as Translator of the
Scriptures; as Penitent. Subjects from the Life of St. Jerome. The
Communion of St. Jerome 285

ST. AMBROSE. Story and Character of St. Ambrose. The Emperor
Theodosius. The Discovery of the Martyrs St. Protasius and St.
Gervasius. Legends relating to St. Ambrose. The Prefect Macedonius.
The Nobleman of Tuscany. Devotional Figures of St. Ambrose. His
peculiar Attributes. His Church at Milan; his Life as represented on
the Altar. Statue of St. Ambrose 300

ST. AUGUSTINE. Character of St. Augustine. His Shrine at Pavia, and
Bassorelievos representing his Life. Devotional Figures of St.
Augustine. Represented with his Mother, Monica. Various Subjects from
his Life. The Vision of St. Augustine 308

ST. GREGORY. His Story and Character. His Popularity. Legends
connected with his Life. Origin of his Attribute, the Dove. The Supper
of St. Gregory. The Mass of St. Gregory. The Miracle of the Brandeum.
St. Gregory releases the Soul of the Emperor Trajan. The Legend as
represented in Pictures. The Legend of the Monk. St. Gregory’s
Doctrine of Purgatory. How represented 315

THE FOUR GREEK FATHERS. How represented in the Greek Pictures, and by
the Latin Artists 324

ST. JOHN CHRYSOSTOM. Singular Legends with regard to him. The Penance
of St. Chrysostom. As represented in the German Prints. By Lucas
Cranach. By Beham. By Albert Dürer 325

ST. BASIL THE GREAT. His Character. How represented. Story of the
Emperor Valens. Legends which refer to St. Basil 335

ST. ATHANASIUS. How represented. Unpopular as a Subject of Art 339

ST. GREGORY NAZIANZEN. His History and Character. His celebrity as a
Poet. Beautiful Miniatures relative to his Life 340

ST. CYRIL. How represented 342

ST. MARY MAGDALENE, ST. MARTHA, ST. LAZARUS, ST. MAXIMIN,
ST. MARCELLA, ST. MARY OF EGYPT, AND THE BEATIFIED
PENITENTS.

Character of Mary Magdalene. Disputes concerning her Identity. The
Popular and Scriptural Legend. The old Provençal Legend. The
Devotional Representations: as Patron Saint; as Penitent. Sacred
Subjects in which she is introduced. Legendary Subjects. La Danse de
la Madeleine. The Assumption of the Magdalene. The Legend of the
Mother and Child. Her Life in a Series of Subjects. Legends of Mary
Magdalene and St. John the Evangelist 343

ST. MARTHA. Her Character. Legends of St. Martha. How represented.
Where introduced 381

ST. LAZARUS 383

ST. MARY OF EGYPT. The Legend. Distinction between St. Mary of Egypt
and Mary Magdalene. Proper Attributes of Mary of Egypt. Stories and
Pictures from her Life 385

MARY THE PENITENT, not to be confounded with Mary of Egypt. Her Story.
Landscapes of Philippe de Champagne 390

ST. THAIS. ST. PELAGIA 393

LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS

IN

THE FIRST VOLUME.

Woodcuts.

1. Laus Deo. _Liberale di Verona._
2. Angel. _Gaudenzio Ferrari._
3. Angels singing ‘Gloria in Excelsis Deo.’ _Perugino._
4. Seraph. _Greek Emblem, 9th Century._
5. Cherubim. _Italian, 14th Century._
6. Cherubim. _Pinturicchio._
7. Cherubim. _Liberale di Verona._
8. Part of a Glory of Angels. _Ambrogio Borgognone._
9. Winged Genius. _Egyptian._
10. Winged Figure. _Nineveh Marbles._
11. Seraph. _Ancient Greek Mosaic._
12. Angels. _Orcagna._
13. Fiery Cherub. _Raphael._
14. Angel, hymning the Virgin. _Francia._
15. Piping Angel. _Gian Bellini._
16. Greek Angel bearing the Moon.
17. Angels on Horseback. _Cathedral of Auxerre._
18. Angels expelling Adam and Eve. _N. Pisano._
19. Angels who visit Abraham. _Raphael._
20. Plan of the Riccardi Chapel. _Florence._
21. Lamenting Angel. _Campo Santo._
22. The Angel wrestles with Jacob. _Greek Miniature._
23. Greek Angel. _Miniature._
24. Greek Angels. _Mosaic._
25. Angels. _F. Granacci._
26. Angel in a Crucifixion. _Albert Dürer._
27. Angels of the 17th Century.
28. Angel. _Poussin._
29. Angels rejoicing. _W. Blake._
30. Two Archangels. _Cimabue._
31. The Archangels Michael and Raphael. _Campo Santo._
32. Angels bearing the Instruments of the Passion. _Campo Santo._
33. The Three Archangels bear the Infant Christ.
34. St. Michael as Patron Saint. _Angelico da Fiesole._
35. Early Symbol of St. Michael and the Dragon. _Bas-relief._
36. St. Michael overcomes the Demon. _Martin Schoen._
37. The same subject. _Raphael._
38. St. Michael as Patron Saint. _Mabuse._
39. St. Michael as Angel of Judgment and Lord of Souls. _Justus of
Ghent._
40. St. Michael as Lord of Souls. _Luca Signorelli._
41. Egyptian Symbol.
42. St. Gabriel. _Lorenzo of Monaco._
43. St. Gabriel. _Wilhelm of Cologne._
44. Angel announcing the Death of the Virgin. _Filippo Lippi._
45. St. Gabriel. _Van Eyck._
46. St. Raphael. _Murillo._
47. St. Raphael. _Rembrandt._
48. The Symbol of St. Matthew. _Mosaic._
49. The Tetramorph. _Greek._
50. Symbol of St. Luke. _Mosaic._
51. Symbol of St. Luke. _Mosaic._
52. Symbol of St. John. _Mosaic._
53. Symbol of St. Mark. _Mosaic._
54. Symbol of St. John. _Miniature._
55. Symbol of St. Mark. _Sculpture._
56. Mystical Figures of the Four Evangelists. _Angelico da Fiesole._
57. Figure from Nineveh. _British Museum._
58. Winged St. Mark. _Hans Beham._
59. St. Matthew. _Raphael._
60. St. John. _Hans Hemling._
61. St. John with the Eagle. _Raphael._
62. St. John as Prophet. _Raphael._
63. St. John in the Island of Patmos. _Lucas van Leyden._
64. The Twelve Apostles, as Sheep. _Mosaic._
65. St. Philip. _Orcagna._
66. St. Peter and St. Paul. _Carlo Crivelli._
67. St. Peter. _Greek Type._
68. St. Peter with one Key. _Taddeo Gaddi._
69. St. Paul. _Greek Type._
70. St. Peter as Pope. _Cola dell’ Amatrice._
71. Repentance of Peter. _Bas-relief, 3rd Century._
72. Crucifixion of Peter. _Giotto._
73. St. Peter, as Keeper of the Gates of Paradise. _Simone Memmi._
74. St. Andrew. _Peter Vischer._
75. St. James Major. _Giovanni Santi._
76. Santiago slaying the Moors. _Carreño de Miranda._
77. St. James Major as Patron. _Andrea del Sarto._
78. The Miracle of the Fowls. _Lo Spagna._
79. St. Philip. _Albert Dürer._
80. St. Bartholomew. _Giotto._
81. St. Thomas. _Raphael._
82. St. James Minor. _L. van Leyden._
83. St. Matthias. _Raphael._
84. Angel swinging the Censer. _Albert Dürer._
85. St. Jerome doing Penance. _Titian._
86. St. Jerome. _Raphael._
87. St. Jerome healing the Lion. _Coll’ Antonio da Fiore._
88. Venetian St. Jerome.
89. The Vision of St. Augustine. _Murillo._
90. ‘La Pénitence de St. Jean Chrysostome.’ _Albert Dürer._
91. St. Mary Magdalene. Statue. _Donatello._
92. St. Mary Magdalene. _L. van Leyden._
93. St. Mary Magdalene. _Timoteo della Vite._
94. St. Mary Magdalene. _Murillo._
95. St. Mary Magdalene. _Annibale Caracci._
96. The Assumption of the Magdalene. _Albert Dürer._
97. St. Mary of Egypt dying. _Pietro da Cortona._
98. Angel. _Raphael._

Etchings.

PAGE

I. The Assumption of the Magdalene. _After Giulio Romano._ The
Original Fresco, which is in our National Gallery, was cut from the
wall of the Church of the Trinità de’ Monti, at Rome _Title_

II. A Venetian Votive Picture in commemoration of a Pestilence
(probably the pestilence of 1512, in which Giorgione perished).
St. Mark, enthroned as the Patron Saint of Venice, holds his Gospel;
on the right St. Sebastian and St. Roch, Protectors against the Plague;
on the left, St. Cosmo and St. Damian, Patron Saints of the Healing
Art. _Sketch after Titian._ The Original Picture, remarkable for
beauty of expression, and splendour and harmony of colour, in the
Church of S. Maria della Salute, at Venice 22

III. Angels of the Planets. _Raphael. From the fine set of Engravings
by L. Gruner, after the Frescoes in the Cappella Chigiana at Rome_ 80

IV. 1. St. Luke painting the Virgin. _After the Picture in the Academy
of St. Luke attributed to Raphael._ 2. St. Mark attended by St.
Gregory. _After Correggio_ 156

V. The Madonna della Cintola. The Virgin, as she ascends to heaven,
presents her girdle to St. Thomas; who kneels by the tomb, which is
full of roses. On the other side, the Archangel Michael, in reference
to the Legend. _From a Picture by Francesco Granacci in the Florence
Gallery_ 248

VI. The Last Supper. 1. _After Giotto._ 2. _After Leonardo da Vinci._
3. _After Raphael._ (For this etching I am indebted to Mr. George
Scharf.) 261

VII. The Four Latin Fathers. _From a Picture by Antonio Vivarini, in
the Academy at Venice_ 280

VIII. The Five Greek Fathers. _Drawing from an Ancient Greek Picture
in the Vatican_ 324

IX. Martha conducts her Sister Mary Magdalene to the Presence of our
Lord. _From the Engraving by Marc’ Antonio, after Raphael_ 381

Introduction.

I. OF THE ORIGIN AND GENERAL SIGNIFICANCE OF THE LEGENDS REPRESENTED IN
ART.

We cannot look round a picture gallery—we cannot turn over a portfolio of prints after the old masters, nor even the modern engravings which pour upon us daily, from Paris, Munich, or Berlin—without perceiving how many of the most celebrated productions of Art, more particularly those which have descended to us from the early Italian and German schools, represent incidents and characters taken from the once popular legends of the Catholic Church. This form of ‘_Hero-Worship_’ has become, since the Reformation, strange to us—as far removed from our sympathies and associations as if it were antecedent to the fall of Babylon and related to the religion of Zoroaster, instead of being left but two or three centuries behind us and closely connected with the faith of our forefathers and the history of civilisation and Christianity. Of late years, with a growing passion for the works of Art of the Middle Ages, there has arisen among us a desire to comprehend the state of feeling which produced them, and the legends and traditions on which they are founded;—a desire to understand, and to bring to some surer critical test, representations which have become familiar without being intelligible. To enable us to do this, we must pause for a moment at the outset; and, before we plunge into the midst of things, ascend to higher ground, and command a far wider range of illustration than has yet been attempted, in order to take cognizance of principles and results which, if not new, must be contemplated in a new relation to each other.

* * * * *

The Legendary Art of the Middle Ages sprang out of the legendary literature of the preceding ages. For three centuries at least, this literature, the only literature which existed at the time, formed the sole mental and moral nourishment of the _people_ of Europe. The romances of Chivalry, which long afterwards succeeded, were confined to particular classes, and left no impress on Art, beyond the miniature illuminations of a few manuscripts. This legendary literature, on the contrary, which had worked itself into the life of the people, became, like the antique mythology, as a living soul diffused through the loveliest forms of Art, still vivid and vivifying, even when the old faith in its mystical significance was lost or forgotten. And it is a mistake to suppose that these legends had their sole origin in the brains of dreaming monks. The wildest of them had some basis of truth to rest on, and the forms which they gradually assumed were but the necessary result of the age which produced them. They became the intense expression of that inner life, which revolted against the desolation and emptiness of the outward existence; of those crushed and outraged sympathies which cried aloud for rest, and refuge, and solace, and could nowhere find them. It will be said, ‘In the purer doctrine of the GOSPEL.’ But where was that to be found? The Gospel was not then the heritage of the poor: Christ, as a comforter, walked not among men. His own blessed teaching was inaccessible except to the learned: it was shut up in rare manuscripts; it was perverted and sophisticated by the passions and the blindness of those few to whom it _was_ accessible. The bitter disputes in the early Church relative to the nature of the Godhead, the subtle distinctions and incomprehensible arguments of the theologians, the dread entertained by the predominant church of any heterodox opinions concerning the divinity of the Redeemer, had all conspired to remove _Him_, in his personal character of Teacher and Saviour, far away from the hearts of the benighted and miserable people—far, far away into regions speculative, mysterious, spiritual, whither they could not, dared not follow Him. In this state of things, as it has been remarked by a distinguished writer, ‘Christ became the object of a remoter, a more awful adoration. The mind began, therefore, to seek out, or eagerly to seize, some other more material beings in closer alliance with human sympathies.’ And the same author, after tracing in vivid and beautiful language the dangerous but natural consequences of this feeling, thus sums up the result: ‘During the perilous and gloomy days of persecution, the reverence for those who endured martyrdom for the religion of Christ had grown up out of the best feelings of man’s improved nature. Reverence gradually grew into veneration, worship, adoration: and although the more rigid theology maintained a marked distinction between the honour shown to the martyrs, and that addressed to the Redeemer and the Supreme Being, the line was too fine and invisible not to be transgressed by excited popular feeling.’[1]

* * * * *

‘We live,’ says the poet, ‘through admiration, hope, and love.’ Out of these vital aspirations—not indeed always ‘well or wisely placed,’ but never, as in the heathen mythology, degraded to vicious and contemptible objects—arose and spread the universal passion for the traditional histories of the saints and martyrs,—personages endeared and sanctified in all hearts, partly as examples of the loftiest virtue, partly as benign intercessors between suffering humanity and that Deity who, in every other light than as a God of Vengeance, had been veiled from their eyes by the perversities of schoolmen and fanatics, till He had receded beyond their reach, almost beyond their comprehension. Of the prevalence and of the incalculable influence of this legendary literature from the seventh to the tenth century, that is, just about the period when Modern Art was struggling into existence, we have a most striking picture in Guizot’s ‘Histoire de la Civilisation.’ ‘As after the siege of Troy (says this philosophical and eloquent writer) there were found, in every city of Greece, men who collected the traditions and adventures of heroes, and sung them for the recreation of the people, till these recitals became a national passion, a national poetry, so, at the time of which we speak, the traditions of what may be called the heroic ages of Christianity had the same interest for the nations of Europe. There were men who made it their business to collect them, to transcribe them, to read or recite them aloud, for the edification and delight of the people. And this was the only literature, properly so called, of that time.‘

Now, if we go back to the _authentic_ histories of the sufferings and heroism of the early martyrs, we shall find enough there, both of the wonderful and the affecting, to justify the credulity and enthusiasm of the unlettered people, who saw no reason why they should not believe in one miracle as well as in another. In these universally diffused legends, we may recognise the means, at least one of the means, by which a merciful Providence, working through its own immutable laws, had provided against the utter depravation, almost extinction, of society. Of the ‘Dark Ages,’ emphatically so called, the period to which I allude was perhaps the darkest; it was ‘of Night’s black arch the key-stone.’ At a time when men were given over to the direst evils that can afflict humanity,—ignorance, idleness, wickedness, misery; at a time when the every-day incidents of life were a violation of all the moral instincts of mankind; at a time when all things seemed abandoned to a blind chance, or the brutal law of force; when there was no repose, no refuge, no safety anywhere; when the powerful inflicted, and the weak endured, whatever we can conceive of most revolting and intolerable; when slavery was recognised by law throughout Europe; when men fled to cloisters, to shut themselves from oppression, and women to shield themselves from outrage; when the manners were harsh, the language gross; when all the softer social sentiments, as pity, reverence, tenderness, found no resting-place in the actual relations of life; when for the higher ranks there was only the fierce excitement of war, and on the humbler classes lay the weary, dreary monotony of a stagnant existence, poor in pleasures of every kind, without aim, without hope; _then_—wondrous reaction of the ineffaceable instincts of good implanted within us!—arose a literature which reversed the outward order of things, which asserted and kept alive in the hearts of men those pure principles of Christianity which were outraged in their daily actions; a literature in which peace was represented as better than war, and sufferance more dignified than resistance; which exhibited poverty and toil as honourable, and charity as the first of virtues; which held up to imitation and emulation, self-sacrifice in the cause of good and contempt of death for conscience’ sake: a literature, in which the tenderness, the chastity, the heroism of woman, played a conspicuous part; which distinctly protested against slavery, against violence, against impurity in word and deed; which refreshed the fevered and darkened spirit with images of moral beauty and truth; revealed bright glimpses of a better land, where ‘the wicked cease from troubling,’ and brought down the angels of God with shining wings and bearing crowns of glory, to do battle with the demons of darkness, to catch the fleeting soul of the triumphant martyr, and carry it at once into a paradise of eternal blessedness and peace!

Now the Legendary Art of the three centuries which comprise the revival of learning, was, as I have said, the reflection of this literature, of this teaching. Considered in this point of view, can we easily overrate its interest and importance?

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When, after the long period of darkness which followed upon the decline of the Roman Empire, the Fine Arts began to revive, the first, and for several ages the only, impress they received was that of the religious spirit of the time. Painting, Sculpture, Music, and Architecture, as they emerged one after another from the ‘formless void,’ were pressed into the service of the Church. But it is a mistake to suppose that in adroitly adapting the reviving Arts to her purposes, in that magnificent spirit of calculation which at all times characterised her, the Church from the beginning selected the subjects, or dictated the use that was to be made of them. We find, on the contrary, edicts and councils _repressing_ the popular extravagances in this respect, and denouncing those apocryphal versions of sacred events and traditions which had become the delight of the people. But vain were councils and edicts; the tide was too strong to be so checked. The Church found herself obliged to accept and mould to her own objects the exotic elements she could not eradicate. She _absorbed_, so to speak, the evils and errors she could not expel. There seems to have been at this time a sort of compromise between the popular legends, with all their wild mixture of northern and classical superstitions, and the Church legends properly so called. The first great object to which reviving Art was destined, was to render the Christian places of worship a theatre of instruction and improvement for the people, to attract and to interest them by representations of scenes, events, and personages, already so familiar as to require no explanation, appealing; at once to their intelligence and their sympathies; embodying in beautiful shapes (beautiful at least in their eyes) associations and feelings and memories deep-rooted in their very hearts, and which had influenced, in no slight degree, the progress of civilisation, the development of mind. Upon these creations of ancient Art we cannot look as _those_ did for whom they were created; we cannot annihilate the centuries which lie between us and them; we cannot, in simplicity of heart, forget the artist in the image he has placed before us, nor supply what may be deficient in his work, through a reverentially excited fancy. We are critical, not credulous. We no longer accept this polytheistic form of Christianity; and there is little danger, I suppose, of our falling again into the strange excesses of superstition to which it led. But if we have not much sympathy with modern imitations of Mediæval Art, still less should we sympathise with that narrow puritanical jealousy which holds the monuments of a real and earnest faith in contempt. All that God has permitted once to exist in the past should be considered as the possession of the present; sacred for example or warning, and held as the foundation on which to build up what is better and purer. It should seem an established fact, that all revolutions in religion, in government, and in art, which begin in the spirit of scorn, and in a sweeping destruction of the antecedent condition, only tend to a reaction. Our puritanical ancestors chopped off the heads of Madonnas and Saints, and paid vagabonds to smash the storied windows of our cathedrals;—_now_, are these rejected and outraged shapes of beauty coming back to us, or are we not rather going back to them? As a Protestant, I might fear lest in doing so we confound the eternal spirit of Christianity with the mutable forms in which it has deigned to speak to the hearts of men, forms which must of necessity vary with the degree of social civilisation, and bear the impress of the feelings and fashions of the age which produced them; but I must also feel that we ought to comprehend, and to hold in due reverence, that which has once been consecrated to holiest aims, which has shown us what a magnificent use has been made of Art, and how it may still be adapted to good and glorious purposes, if, while we respect these time-consecrated images and types, we do not allow them to fetter us, but trust in the progressive spirit of Christianity to furnish us with new impersonations of the good—new combinations of the beautiful. I hate the destructive as I revere the progressive spirit. We must laugh if any one were to try and persuade us that the sun was guided along his blazing path by a ‘fair-haired god who touched a golden lyre;’ but shall we therefore cease to adore in the Apollo Belvedere the majestic symbol of light, the most divine impersonation of intellectual power and beauty? So of the corresponding Christian symbols:—may that time never come, when we shall look up to the effigy of the winged and radiant angel trampling down the brute-fiend, without a glow of faith in the perpetual supremacy and final triumph of good over evil!

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It is about a hundred years since the passion, or the fashion, for collecting works of Art, began to be generally diffused among the rich and the noble of this land; and it is amusing to look back and to consider the perversions and affectations of the would-be connoisseurship during this period;—the very small stock of ideas on which people set up a pretension to taste—the false notions, the mixture of pedantry and ignorance, which everywhere prevailed. The publication of Richardson’s book, and Sir Joshua Reynolds’s Discourses, had this advantage,—that they, to a certain degree, diffused a more elevated idea of Art as _Art_, and that they placed connoisseurship on a better and truer basis. In those days we had Inquiries into the Principles of Taste, Treatises on the Sublime and Beautiful, Anecdotes of Painting; and we abounded in Antiquarian Essays on disputed Pictures and mutilated Statues: but then, and up to a late period, any inquiry into the true spirit and significance of works of Art, as connected with the history of Religion and Civilisation, would have appeared ridiculous—or perhaps dangerous:—we should have had another cry of ‘No Popery,’ and acts of parliament forbidding the importation of Saints and Madonnas. It was fortunate, perhaps, that connoisseurs meddled not with such high matters. They talked volubly and harmlessly of ‘hands,’ and ‘masters,’ and ‘schools,’—of ‘draperies,’ of ‘tints,’ of ‘handling,’—of ‘fine heads,’ ‘fine compositions;’ of ‘the grace of Raphael,’ and of the ‘Correggiosity of Correggio.’ The very manner in which the names of the painters were pedantically used instead of the name of the subject, is indicative of this factitious feeling; the only question at issue was, whether such a picture was a genuine ‘Raphael?’ such another a genuine ‘Titian?’ The spirit of the work—whether _that_ was genuine; how far it was influenced by the faith and the condition of the age which produced it; whether the conception was properly characteristic, and of _what_ it was characteristic—of the subject? or of the school? or of the time?—whether the treatment corresponded to the idea within our own souls, or was modified by the individuality of the artist, or by received conventionalisms of all kinds?—these were questions which had not then occurred to any one; and I am not sure that we are much wiser even now: yet, setting aside all higher considerations, how can we do common justice to the artist, unless we can bring his work to the test of truth? and how can we do this, unless we know what to look for, what was _intended_ as to incident, expression, character? One result of our ignorance has been the admiration wasted on the flimsy mannerists of the later ages of Art; men who apparently had no definite _intention_ in anything they did, except a dashing outline, or a delicate finish, or a striking and attractive management of colour.

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It is curious, this general ignorance with regard to the subjects of Mediæval Art, more particularly now that it has become a reigning fashion among us. We find no such ignorance with regard to the subjects of Classical Art, because the associations connected with them form a part of every liberal education. Do we hear any one say, in looking at Annibal Caracci’s picture in the National Gallery, ‘Which is Silenus, and which is Apollo?’ Who ever confounds a Venus with a Minerva, or a Vestal with an Amazon; or would endure an undraped Juno, or a beardless Jupiter? Even the gardener in Zeluco knew Neptune by his ‘fork,’ and Vulcan by his ‘lame leg.’ We are indeed so accustomed, in visiting the churches and the galleries abroad, and the collections at home, to the predominance of sacred subjects, that it has become a mere matter of course, and excites no particular interest and attention. We have heard it all accounted for by the fact that the Church and churchmen were the first, and for a long time the only, patrons of Art. In every sacred edifice, and in every public or private collection enriched from the plunder of sacred edifices, we look for the usual proportion of melancholy martyrdoms and fictitious miracles,—for the predominance of Madonnas and Magdalenes, St. Catherines and St. Jeromes: but why these should predominate, why certain events and characters from the Old and the New Testament should be continually repeated, and others comparatively neglected; whence the predilection for certain legendary personages, who seemed to be multiplied to infinity, and the rarity of others; of this we know nothing.

We have learned, perhaps, after running through half the galleries and churches in Europe, to distinguish a few of the attributes and characteristic figures which meet us at every turn, yet without any clear idea of their meaning, derivation, or relative propriety. The palm of victory, we know, designates the martyr triumphant in death. We so far emulate the critical sagacity of the gardener in Zeluco that we have learned to distinguish St. Laurence by his gridiron, and St. Catherine by her wheel. We are not at a loss to recognise the Magdalene’s ‘loose hair and lifted eye,’ even when without her skull and her vase of ointment. We learn to know St. Francis by his brown habit and shaven crown and wasted ardent features; but do we distinguish him from St. Anthony, or St. Dominick? As for St. George and the dragon—from the St. George of the Louvre,—Raphael’s,—who sits his horse with the elegant tranquillity of one assured of celestial aid, down to him ‘who swings on a sign post at mine hostess’s door,’—he is our familiar acquaintance. But who is that lovely being in the first blush of youth, who, bearing aloft the symbolic cross, stands with one foot on the vanquished dragon? ‘That is a copy after Raphael.’ And who is that majestic creature holding her palm branch, while the unicorn crouches at her feet? ‘That is the famous Moretto at Vienna.’ Are we satisfied?—not in the least! but we try to look wiser, and pass on.

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In the old times the painters of these legendary scenes and subjects could always reckon securely on certain associations and certain sympathies in the minds of the spectators. We have outgrown these associations, we repudiate these sympathies. We have taken these works from their consecrated localities, in which they once held each their dedicated place, and we have hung them in our drawing-rooms and our dressing-rooms, over our pianos and our side-boards—and now what do they say to us? That Magdalene, weeping amid her hair, who once spoke comfort to the soul of the fallen sinner—that Sebastian, arrow-pierced, whose upward ardent glance spoke of courage and hope to the tyrant-ridden serf,—that poor tortured slave, to whose aid St. Mark comes sweeping down from above,—can they speak to _us_ of nothing save flowing lines and correct drawing and gorgeous colour? must we be told that one is a Titian, the other a Guido, the third a Tintoret, before we dare to melt in compassion or admiration?—or the moment we refer to their ancient religious signification and influence, must it be with disdain or with pity? This, as it appears to me, is to take not a rational, but rather a most irrational as well as a most irreverent, view of the question; it is to confine the pleasure and improvement to be derived from works of Art within very narrow bounds; it is to seal up a fountain of the richest poetry, and to shut out a thousand ennobling and inspiring thoughts. Happily there is a growing appreciation of these larger principles of criticism as applied to the study of Art. People look at the pictures which hang round their walls, and have an awakening suspicion that there is more in them than meets the eye—more than mere connoisseurship can interpret; and that they have another, a deeper, significance than has been dreamed of by picture dealers and picture collectors, or even picture critics.

II. OF THE DISTINCTION TO BE DRAWN BETWEEN THE DEVOTIONAL AND THE
HISTORICAL SUBJECTS.

At first, when entering on a subject so boundless and so diversified, we are at a loss for some leading classification which shall be distinct and intelligible, without being mechanical. It appears to me, that all sacred representations, in as far as they appeal to sentiment and imagination, resolve themselves into two great classes, which I shall call the DEVOTIONAL and the HISTORICAL.

Devotional pictures are those which portray the objects of our veneration with reference only to their sacred character, whether standing singly or in company with others. They place before us no action or event, real or supposed. They are neither portrait nor history. A group of sacred personages where no action is represented, is called in Italian a ‘_sacra conversazione_:’ the word _conversazione_, which signifies a society in which there is communion, being here, as it appears to me, used with peculiar propriety. All subjects, then, which exhibit to us sacred personages, alone or in groups, simply in the character of superior beings, must be considered as _devotionally_ treated.

But a sacred subject, without losing wholly its religious import, becomes historical the moment it represents any story, incident, or action, real or imagined. All pictures which exhibit the events of Scripture story, all those which express the actions, miracles, and martyrdoms of saints, come under this class; and to this distinction I must call the attention of the reader, requesting that it may be borne in mind throughout this work.

We must also recollect that a story, action, or fact may be so represented as to become a symbol expressive of an abstract idea: and some scriptural and some legendary subjects may be devotional, or historical, according to the sentiment conveyed: for example, the Crucifixion and the Last Supper may be so represented as either to exhibit an event, or to express a symbol of our Redemption. The raising of Lazarus exhibits, in the catacombs, a mystical emblem of the general resurrection; in the grand picture by Sebastian del Piombo, in our National Gallery, it is a scene from the life of our Saviour. Among the legendary subjects, the penance of the Magdalene, and St. Martin dividing his cloak, may be merely incidents, or they may be symbolical, the first of penitence, the latter of charity, in the general sense. And, again, there are some subjects which, though expressing a scene or an action, are _wholly_ mystical and devotional in their import; as the vision of St. Augustine, and the marriage of St. Catherine.

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Among the grandest of the devotional subjects, we may reckon those compositions which represent the whole celestial hierarchy; the divine personages of the Trinity, the angels and archangels, and the beatified spirits of the just. Such is the subject called the ‘Paradiso,’ so often met with in pictures and ecclesiastical decoration, where Christ is enthroned in glory: such is also the Coronation of the Virgin, that ancient and popular symbol of the triumph of Religion or the Church; the Adoration of the Lamb; and the Last Judgment, from the Apocalypse. The order of precedence in these sacred assemblages was early settled by ecclesiastical authority, and was almost as absolute as that of a modern code of honour. First after the Trinity, the Virgin Mary, as _Regina Angelorum_, and St. John the Baptist: then, in order, the Evangelists; the Patriarchs; the Prophets; the Apostles; the Fathers; the Bishops; the Martyrs; the Hermits; the Virgins; the Monks, Nuns, and Confessors.

As examples, I may cite the Paradiso of Angelico, in the Florence Academy; the Coronation of the Virgin by Hans Memling, in the Wallerstein collection, which contains not less than fifty-two figures, all individualised with their proper attributes; and which, if it were possible, should be considered in contrast with the Coronation by Angelico. The Flemish painter seems to have carried his intense impression of earthly and individual life into the regions of heaven; the Italian, through a purer inspiration, seems to have brought all Paradise down before us upon earth. In the Adoration of the Lamb by Van Eyck, there are not fewer than two hundred figures. For the Last Judgment, the grand compositions of Orcagna in the Campo Santo,—of Luca Signorelli and Angelico at Orvieto,—and the fresco of Michael Angelo in the Sistine Chapel, may be consulted.

Where the usual order is varied, there is generally some reason for it; for instance, in the exaltation of a favourite saint, as we sometimes find St. Dominick and St. Francis by the side of St. Peter and St. Paul: and among the miniatures of that extraordinary MS., the Hortus Deliciarum, now at Strasbourg, painted for a virgin abbess, there is a ‘Paradiso’ in which the painter, either by her command or in compliment to her, has placed the virgins immediately after the angels.

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The representation of the Virgin and Child with saints grouped around them, is a devotional subject familiar to us from its constant recurrence. It also frequently happens that the tutelary saint of the locality, or the patron saint of the votary, is represented as seated on a raised throne in the centre; and other saints, though under every other circumstance taking a superior rank, become here accessories, and are placed on each side or lower down in the picture: for example, where St. Augustine is enthroned, and St. Peter and St. Paul stand on each side, as in a picture by B. Vivarini,[2] or where St. Barbara is enthroned, and Mary Magdalene and St. Catherine stand on each side, as in a picture by Matteo di Siena.[3]

In such pictures, the votary or donor is often introduced kneeling at the feet of his patron, either alone or accompanied by his wife and other members of his family: and to express the excess of his humility, he is sometimes so diminutive in proportion to the colossal object of his veneration, as to be almost lost to sight; we have frequent examples of this _naïveté_ of sentiment in the old mosaics and votive altar-pieces; for instance, in a beautiful old fresco at Assisi, where the Magdalene, a majestic figure about six feet high, holds out her hand in benediction to a little Franciscan friar about a foot in height: but it was abandoned as barbarous in the later schools of Art, and the votary, when retained, appears of the natural size; as in the _Madonna del Donatore_ of Raphael[4], where Sigismond Conti is almost the finest and most striking part of that inestimable picture: and in the _Madonna_ of the Meyer family by Holbein.[5]

When a bishop is introduced into a group of saints kneeling, while all the others are standing, he may be supposed to be the _Donatore_ or _Divoto_, the person who presents the picture. When he is standing, he is one of the bishop-patrons or bishop-martyrs, of whom there are some hundreds, and who are more difficult to discriminate than any other pictured saints.

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And this leads me to the subject of the so-called _anachronisms_ in devotional subjects, where personages who lived at different and distant periods of time are found grouped together. It is curious to find the critics of the last century treating with pity and ridicule, as the result of ignorance or a barbarous unformed taste, the noblest and most spiritual conceptions of poetic art. Even Sir Joshua Reynolds had so little idea of the true object and feeling of such representations, that he thinks it necessary to apologise for the error of the painter, or the mistaken piety of his employer. We must remember that the personages here brought together in their sacred character belong no more to our earth, but to heaven and eternity: for them there is no longer time or place; they are here assembled together in the perpetual ‘communion of saints,’—immortal contemporaries in that kingdom where the Angel of the Apocalypse proclaimed ‘that there should be time no longer.’