DOI Page / Citation link:
https://doi.org/10.11588/diglit.68745#0149
THE UPPER HALL
the form of the Saviour, whose eyes are closed in prayer or
exhaustion, comes the flood of glory, that light which has power
to chase away shadows and to make all things plain. Looked at
from this point of view, it is of comparatively little importance
that the Risen Christ is less successful in drawing and balance
than some of his more important figures, less satisfactory indeed
than in the sketch for the picture, which belongs to Sir William
Farrer. The sleeping guards, the advancing forms of the Marys,
even the angels, are lost sight of in that sudden outburst of
radiance which streams from the head and garments of the Lord
and beyond Him, and looks as if it blazed from limitless space and
should have power to chase away all the twilight of the world.
If this reading seems fanciful, we know that the painter was full
of fancy, and any one looking at the original and noting how
carefully he has kept the subservience of the cold blue dawn in
the 4 Resurrection,’ and how broad and undisturbed is the shadow
that fills up more than half of the garden scene, will understand
what importance he attached to the idea.
Though the 4 Last Supper,’ which comes next in the series, is
injured and faded, we cannot agree with Ruskin that it is so
contemptible a piece of work. The colours are indeed dull and
dried up, but through all the deterioration it preserves a sense
of space which makes a setting full of air and life. Tintoretto’s
versatility in the treatment of his subjects is shown here once
more. Often as he has painted the 4 Last Supper,’ he never goes
back to any former arrangement; it is always an absolutely fresh
plan and it is always imbued with some sincere vision of what
the event portended. His Last Suppers are no pretext for
painting a Venetian epicure, banqueting on gold plate, with
women and music, in an airy loggia looking on the Grand Canal,
and with his friends or patrons introduced in the guise of
boon companions. The room in which he places Christ and His
Apostles is never far from being a simple or even a humble one,
the attendants are common men and serving maids and boys,
and he brings in the beggars and dogs with symbolical meaning.
This is especially the case in this hall, painted for a community
vowed to works of charity: in fact the man and woman on the
steps here are represented as a kind of supporters, typical
83
the form of the Saviour, whose eyes are closed in prayer or
exhaustion, comes the flood of glory, that light which has power
to chase away shadows and to make all things plain. Looked at
from this point of view, it is of comparatively little importance
that the Risen Christ is less successful in drawing and balance
than some of his more important figures, less satisfactory indeed
than in the sketch for the picture, which belongs to Sir William
Farrer. The sleeping guards, the advancing forms of the Marys,
even the angels, are lost sight of in that sudden outburst of
radiance which streams from the head and garments of the Lord
and beyond Him, and looks as if it blazed from limitless space and
should have power to chase away all the twilight of the world.
If this reading seems fanciful, we know that the painter was full
of fancy, and any one looking at the original and noting how
carefully he has kept the subservience of the cold blue dawn in
the 4 Resurrection,’ and how broad and undisturbed is the shadow
that fills up more than half of the garden scene, will understand
what importance he attached to the idea.
Though the 4 Last Supper,’ which comes next in the series, is
injured and faded, we cannot agree with Ruskin that it is so
contemptible a piece of work. The colours are indeed dull and
dried up, but through all the deterioration it preserves a sense
of space which makes a setting full of air and life. Tintoretto’s
versatility in the treatment of his subjects is shown here once
more. Often as he has painted the 4 Last Supper,’ he never goes
back to any former arrangement; it is always an absolutely fresh
plan and it is always imbued with some sincere vision of what
the event portended. His Last Suppers are no pretext for
painting a Venetian epicure, banqueting on gold plate, with
women and music, in an airy loggia looking on the Grand Canal,
and with his friends or patrons introduced in the guise of
boon companions. The room in which he places Christ and His
Apostles is never far from being a simple or even a humble one,
the attendants are common men and serving maids and boys,
and he brings in the beggars and dogs with symbolical meaning.
This is especially the case in this hall, painted for a community
vowed to works of charity: in fact the man and woman on the
steps here are represented as a kind of supporters, typical
83