DOI Seite / Zitierlink:
https://doi.org/10.11588/diglit.53068#0100
RAPHAEL
at Chantilly (Plates 66, 67, R. VI, 259, 260); Raphael thought that in this he
had found the final solution, for he divided it up into squares for transferring to a
larger scale. We recognise the “tre rimoti giri”, the furthest circles in the
Heavenly Rose:
“. . . tanto bianco
Che nulla neve a quel termine arriva”1
In the study for the figure of Christ, at Lille (Plate 69, R. VI, 289), one is
reminded of Tiepolo, so translucent is his body, so blinding the radiance in which
his garments appear; the light rests on them as on a glacier-field. Here Raphael
felt himself entirely indebted to Dante; the drawing at Chantilly sets the poet
in the conspicuous position in the middle, almost in the same rank with the
Doctors of the Church. And now the lower half takes shape, in the series of
studies, almost dramatically before our eyes. From the beginning the figure of
St Gregory was there, firmly established; his gaze is fixed on the Holy Ghost
above the Sacrament—even in the first sketch, at Windsor, he is shown raising
his countenance towards it. The next step is represented by the old Louvre
copy after a lost original in which two separate drawings are combined—only
feeble copies, but invaluable as evidence of the conception and for the stages of the
composition (R. VI, 262, 263). The groups in the drawing from the Vaughan
Collection in the British Museum (Plate 65, R. VI, 267) appear already
nearly finished and draped as in the painting; their movements suggest the
company in Leonardo’s Last Supper risen to their feet and striving to reach
the Salvation in their midst; out of a lifelike picture has grown a picture full of
vitality. A profusion of ideas amongst the kneeling figures come from Leonardo’s
designs for the Adoration—and now it is the line formed by the heads, with
which our painter is not yet satisfied—the stream of “viatores” of Thomas del
Vio, pilgrims to the Love-feast, did not seem sufficiently devoid of interruption;
he sensed as a gap the side of the marble throne of St Gregory. It was now
essential that there should be rhythm in the flow of the arrangement, and rhythm
demanded the whole apartment, to hold the pictures on the four walls in a
relationship to one another.
In the Parnassus wall, division into parts was provided by the window
cutting into it; the lines of the jambs are continued upward in the figures of
Homer and the Muse seen from behind (Plate 73). In the School of Athens
the shadows of the pilasters give the same accents in the same positions. Raphael
linked up the Disputa with the other pictures by inserting here also this
caesura. Thus, in a study in the Loyd of Lockinge Collection (R. VI, 270),
the figure of the new convert comes behind the place taken by St Gregory,
whose head in its raised attitude is sketched like an antique helmet. But in
1<f. . . so gleaming white
That never snow their purity attains”.
82
at Chantilly (Plates 66, 67, R. VI, 259, 260); Raphael thought that in this he
had found the final solution, for he divided it up into squares for transferring to a
larger scale. We recognise the “tre rimoti giri”, the furthest circles in the
Heavenly Rose:
“. . . tanto bianco
Che nulla neve a quel termine arriva”1
In the study for the figure of Christ, at Lille (Plate 69, R. VI, 289), one is
reminded of Tiepolo, so translucent is his body, so blinding the radiance in which
his garments appear; the light rests on them as on a glacier-field. Here Raphael
felt himself entirely indebted to Dante; the drawing at Chantilly sets the poet
in the conspicuous position in the middle, almost in the same rank with the
Doctors of the Church. And now the lower half takes shape, in the series of
studies, almost dramatically before our eyes. From the beginning the figure of
St Gregory was there, firmly established; his gaze is fixed on the Holy Ghost
above the Sacrament—even in the first sketch, at Windsor, he is shown raising
his countenance towards it. The next step is represented by the old Louvre
copy after a lost original in which two separate drawings are combined—only
feeble copies, but invaluable as evidence of the conception and for the stages of the
composition (R. VI, 262, 263). The groups in the drawing from the Vaughan
Collection in the British Museum (Plate 65, R. VI, 267) appear already
nearly finished and draped as in the painting; their movements suggest the
company in Leonardo’s Last Supper risen to their feet and striving to reach
the Salvation in their midst; out of a lifelike picture has grown a picture full of
vitality. A profusion of ideas amongst the kneeling figures come from Leonardo’s
designs for the Adoration—and now it is the line formed by the heads, with
which our painter is not yet satisfied—the stream of “viatores” of Thomas del
Vio, pilgrims to the Love-feast, did not seem sufficiently devoid of interruption;
he sensed as a gap the side of the marble throne of St Gregory. It was now
essential that there should be rhythm in the flow of the arrangement, and rhythm
demanded the whole apartment, to hold the pictures on the four walls in a
relationship to one another.
In the Parnassus wall, division into parts was provided by the window
cutting into it; the lines of the jambs are continued upward in the figures of
Homer and the Muse seen from behind (Plate 73). In the School of Athens
the shadows of the pilasters give the same accents in the same positions. Raphael
linked up the Disputa with the other pictures by inserting here also this
caesura. Thus, in a study in the Loyd of Lockinge Collection (R. VI, 270),
the figure of the new convert comes behind the place taken by St Gregory,
whose head in its raised attitude is sketched like an antique helmet. But in
1<f. . . so gleaming white
That never snow their purity attains”.
82