The Four Evangelists.
The Four Evangelists.
‘Matthew wrote for the Hebrews; Mark, for the Italians; Luke, for the Greeks; for ALL, the great herald John.’—Gregory Nazianzen.
Since on the Four Evangelists, as the witnesses and interpreters of a revealed religion, the whole Christian Church may be said to rest as upon four majestic pillars, we cannot be surprised that representations of them should abound, and that their effigies should have been introduced into Christian places of worship, from very early times. Generally, we find them represented together, grouped, or in a series; sometimes in their collective character, as the Four Witnesses; sometimes in their individual character, each as an inspired teacher, or beneficent patron. As no authentic resemblances of these sacred personages have ever been known or even supposed to exist, such representations have always been either symbolical or ideal. In the symbol, the aim was to embody, under some emblematical image, the spiritual mission; in the ideal portrait, the artist, left to his own conception, borrowed from Scripture some leading trait (when Scripture afforded any authority for such), and adding, with what success his skill could attain, all that his imagination could conceive, as expressive of dignity and persuasive eloquence—the look ‘commercing with the skies,’ the commanding form, the reverend face, the ample draperies—he put the book or the pen into his hand, and thus the writer and the teacher of the truth was placed before us.
The earliest type under which the Four Evangelists are figured is an emblem of the simplest kind: four scrolls placed in the four angles of a Greek cross, or four books (the Gospels), represented allegorically those who wrote or promulgated them. The second type chosen was more poetical—the four rivers which had their source in Paradise: representations of this kind, in which the Saviour, figured as a lamb holding the cross, or in his human form, with a lamb near him, stands on an eminence, from which gush four rivers or fountains, are to be met with in the catacombs, on ancient sarcophagi preserved among the Christian relics in the Vatican, and in several old churches constructed between the second and the fifth century.
At what period the four mysterious creatures in the vision of Ezekiel (ch. i. 5) were first adopted as significant symbols of the Four Evangelists, does not seem clear. The Jewish doctors interpreted them as figuring the four Archangels,—Michael, Raphael, Gabriel, Uriel; and afterwards applied them as emblems of the Four Great Prophets,—Isaiah, Jeremiah, Ezekiel, and Daniel. By the early Oriental Christians, who typified the whole of the Old Testament, the transfer of the emblem to the Four Evangelists seems obvious and easy; we find it alluded to as early as the second century. The four ‘Beasts’ of corresponding form in the Revelation (chap. iv. 7), which stood round the throne of the Lamb, were likewise thus interpreted; but it was not till the fifth century that we find these symbols assuming a visible form, and introduced into works of art. In the seventh century they had become almost universal, as distinctive attributes.
The general application of the Four Creatures to the Four Evangelists is of much earlier date than the separate and individual application of each symbol, which has varied at different times; that propounded by St. Jerome, in his commentary on Ezekiel, has since his time prevailed universally. Thus, then, 1. To St. Matthew was given the Cherub, or human semblance, because he begins his gospel with the human generation of Christ; or, according to others, because in his gospel the human nature of the Saviour is more insisted on than the divine. In the most ancient mosaics, the type is human, not angelic, for the head is that of a man with a beard. 2. St. Mark has the Lion, because he has set forth the royal dignity of Christ; or, according to others, because he begins with the mission of the Baptist—‘the voice of one crying in the wilderness’—which is figured by the lion: or, according to a third interpretation, the lion was allotted to St. Mark, because there was, in the middle ages, a popular belief that the young of the lion was born dead, and after three days was awakened to vitality by the breath of its sire; some authors, however, represent the lion as vivifying his young not by his breath, but by his roar. In either case the application is the same; the revival of the young lion was considered as symbolical of the resurrection, and Mark was commonly called the ‘Historian of the Resurrection.’ Another commentator observes that Mark begins his gospel with ‘roaring’—‘the voice of one crying in the wilderness;’ and ends it fearfully with a curse—‘He that believeth not shall be damned;’ and that, therefore, his appropriate attribute is the most terrible of beasts, the lion.[101] 3. Luke has the Ox, because he has dwelt on the priesthood of Christ, the ox being the emblem of sacrifice. 4. John has the Eagle, which is the symbol of the highest inspiration, because he soared upwards to the contemplation of the divine nature of the Saviour.
But the order in which, in theological Art, these symbols are placed, is not the same as the order of the Gospels according to the canon. Rupertus considers the Four Beasts as typical of the Incarnation, the Passion, the Resurrection, and the Ascension; an idea previously dwelt upon by Durandus, who adds, that the man and the lion are placed on the right, because the incarnation and the resurrection are the joy of the whole earth; whilst the ox is on the left, because Christ’s sacrifice was a trouble to the apostles; and the eagle is above the ox, as suggestive of our Lord’s upward flight into heaven: according to others, the proper order in the ascending scale is thus—at the lowest point on the left, the ox; to the right, the lion; above the ox, the eagle; and above all, the angel. So in Raphael’s Vision of Ezekiel, the angel gazes into the face of the Holy One, the others form his throne.
I have dwelt on these fanciful interpretations and disquisitions, because the symbols of the Evangelists meet us at every turn; in the mosaics of the old Italian churches, in the decorative sculpture of our old cathedrals, in the Gothic stained glass, in the ancient pictures and miniatures, on the carved and chased covers of old books; everywhere, in short, where enters the idea of their divine mission—and where is it not? The profound thought, as well as the vivid imagination, exercised in some of these early works of art, is beginning to be appreciated; and we should lose the half of what is poetical, and significant, and venerable in these apparently arbitrary and fanciful symbols, if we merely seized the general intention, and not the relative and appropriate meaning of each.
I will only add (for I have restricted myself to the consideration of the mysteries of faith only so far as they are carried into the forms of Art) that these symbols of the Four Evangelists were in their combination held to be symbolical of the Redeemer, in the fourfold character then universally assigned to him, as man, as king, as high-priest, and as God; according to this Latin verse:
Quatuor hæc Dominum signant animalia Christum:
Est Homo nascendo, vitulusque sacer moriendo,
Et Leo surgendo, cœlos aquilaque petendo;
Nec minus hos scribas animalia et ipsa figurant.
This would again alter the received order of the symbols, and place the angelic or human semblance lower than the rest: but I have never seen them so placed, at least I can recollect no instance.
A Greek mosaic, existing in the Convent of Vatopedi, on Mount Athos, exhibits an attempt to reduce to form the wild and sublime imagery of the prophet Ezekiel: the Evangelists, or rather the Gospels, are represented as the tetramorph, or four-faced creature, with wings full of eyes, and borne on wheels of living flame (49).
The Tetramorph, i.e. the union of the four attributes of the Evangelists, in one figure, is in Greek Art always angelic or winged—a mysterious thing. The Tetramorph in Western Art has in some instances become monstrous, instead of mystic and poetical. In a miniature of the Hortus Deliciarum, we find the new Law, or Christianity, represented as a woman crowned and seated on an animal which, with the body of a horse, has the four heads of the mystic creatures; and of the four feet, one is human; one hoofed, for the ox; one clawed like an eagle’s; and one like a lion’s: underneath is inscribed Animal Ecclesiæ. In some other examples, the Church, or the new Law, is seated in a triumphal car drawn by the eagle, the lion, and the ox, while the angel holds the reins and drives as charioteer.
The early images of the Evangelical symbol are uniformly represented with wings, for the same reason that wings were given to the angels,—they were angels, i.e. bringers of good tidings: for instance, in the earliest example to which I can refer, a rude fragment of a bas-relief in terracotta, found in the catacombs, which represents a lamb with a glory holding a cross; on the right, an angel in a sacerdotal garment (St. Matthew), on the left the winged ox (St. Luke), each holding a book.
In the most ancient Christian churches we find these symbols perpetually recurring, generally in or over the recess at the east end (the apsis, or tribune), where stands the altar. And as the image of Christ, as the Redeemer, either under the semblance of the lamb, or in his human likeness, as a grand, calm, solemn figure enthroned, and in the act of benediction, forms invariably the principal object; almost as invariably the Evangelists are either at the four corners, or ranged in a line above or below, or they are over the arch in front of the tribune. Sometimes they are the heads only of the mystic creatures, on an azure ground, studded with stars, floating as in a firmament, thus (50): or the half figure ends in a leafy scroll, like the genii in an arabesque, as thus (51): or the creature is given at full length and entire, with four wings, holding the book, and looking much like a figure in heraldry (52, 53).
50 St. Luke (Mosaic, A.D. 750) [51] St. Luke (Mosaic, fifth century)
The next step was the combination of the emblem with the human form, i.e. the head of the lion, ox, or eagle, set upon the figure of a man. Here is a figure of St. John standing with the head of an eagle, holding the gospel (54). There is another rudely engraved in Münter’s work, with the eagle’s head, wings upon the shoulders, and a scroll. I remember another of St. John seated, writing, with the head and clawed feet of an eagle, and the body and hands of a man. Such figures as a series I have seen in ornaments, and frequently in illuminated MSS., but seldom in churches, and never of a large size. A very striking and comparatively modern example of this peculiar treatment occurs in a bas-relief on the door of the College of St. Stephen and St. Lawrence, at Castiglione, in which the Four Evangelists are represented as half-length human figures, amply draped and holding the gospels, each with the emblematic head and large outspread wings (55). The bronze bas-reliefs of the Evangelists on each side of the choir of St. Antonio, at Padua, are similar in form, and very fine, both in conception and workmanship.
52 St. John (Mosaic, ekeventh century)
This series of full-length figures is from the first compartment of the Life of Christ by Angelico da Fiesole.[102] In the original the figures stand round a mystic circle, alternately with the prophets (56). We must remember, that however monstrous and grotesque such figures may appear to the eye, they are not more unnatural than the angelic representations with which we are so familiar that we see in them beauty only—not considering that men with the wings of birds are as merely emblematical and impossible as men with animal heads. It is interesting, and leads the mind to many speculations, to remark that the Babylonish captivity must have familiarised the Israelites with the combination of the human and animal attributes in the same figure. The gigantic bas-reliefs from Nineveh show us winged bulls with human heads, and the human form with the eagle’s head and wings. This figure, for example, (57) is not unlike some early figures of St. John, if we substitute the book and the pen for the basket and the pine-cone.
In a few later examples the only symbolical attribute retained is a pair of wings. The next figure (58) is from a curious set of Evangelists, of a minute size, and exquisitely engraved by Hans Beham: they are habited in the old German fashion; each has his book, his emblem, and in addition the expressive wings.
These animal symbols, whether alone or in combination with the human forms, were perfectly intelligible to the people, sanctified in their eyes by tradition, by custom, and by the most solemn associations. All direct imitation of nature was, by the best painters, carefully avoided. In this respect how fine is Raphael’s Vision of Ezekiel! how sublime and how true in feeling and conception! where the Messiah comes floating along, upborne by the Four Creatures—mysterious, spiritual, wonderful beings, animals in form, but in all else unearthly, and the winged ox not less divine than the winged angel![103] Whereas in the later times, when the artist piqued himself upon the imitation of nature, the mystic and venerable significance was wholly lost. As a striking instance of this mistaken style of treatment, we may turn to the famous group of the Four Evangelists by Rubens,[104] grand, colossal, standing or rather moving figures, each with his emblem, if emblems they can be called which are almost as full of reality as nature itself:—the ox so like life, we expect him to bellow at us; the magnificent lion flourishing his tail, and looking at St. Mark as if about to roar at him!—and herein lies the mistake of the great painter, that, for the religious and mysterious emblem, he has substituted the creatures themselves: this being one of the instances, not unfrequent in Art, in which the literal truth becomes a manifest falsehood.
In ecclesiastical decoration the Four Evangelists are sometimes grouped significantly with the Four Greater Prophets; thus representing the connexion between the new and the old Law. I met with a curious instance in the Cathedral of Chartres. The five great windows over the south door may be said to contain a succinct system of theology, according to the belief of the thirteenth century: here the Virgin, i.e. the Church or Religion, occupies the central window; on one side is Jeremiah, carrying on his shoulders St. Luke, and Isaiah carrying St. Matthew; on the other side, Ezekiel bears St. John, and Daniel St. Mark; thus representing the New Testament resting on the Old.
In ecclesiastical decoration, and particularly in the stained glass, they are often found in combination with the Four Doctors, the Evangelists being considered as witnesses, the Doctors as interpreters, of the truth: or as a series with the Four Greater Prophets, the Four Sibyls, and the Four Doctors of the Church, the Evangelists taking the third place.
If, as late as the sixteenth century, we find the Evangelists still expressed by the mystic emblems (as in the fine bronzes in the choir of Sant’ Antonio at Padua), as early as the sixth we have in the Greek MSS. and mosaics the Evangelists as venerable men, and promulgators of a revelation; as in San Vitale at Ravenna (A.D. 547): on each side of the choir, nearest the altar, we find the prophets Isaiah and Jeremiah; then follow the Evangelists, two on each side, all alike, all classically draped in white tunics, each holding an open book, on which is inscribed ‘Secundum Marcum,’ ‘Secundum Johannem,’ &c.; and above each the animal symbol or attribute, large, full length, and grandly designed. In modern ecclesiastical decoration, the usual and appropriate situation of the Four Evangelists is immediately under the dome, nearest to the Saviour after the angels, or after the prophets, where either are introduced. I will mention here a few examples celebrated in the history of Art; premising that among the works of Leonardo, of Michael Angelo, and Raphael, we find no representations of the Four Evangelists; which is singular, considering that such figures entered necessarily into every scheme of theological decorative art.
By Cimabue (A.D. 1270), larger than life, on the vault of the choir in San Francesco d’Assisi.
By Giotto (A.D. 1320), in the choir of Sant’ Apollinare, at Ravenna; seated, and each accompanied by one of the doctors of the Church.
By Angelico (A.D. 1390), round the dome of the chapel of San Niccolò, in the Vatican; all seated, each with his emblem.
By Masaccio (A.D. 1420), round the dome of the chapel of the Passion in San Clemente, at Rome; admirable for simple grandeur.
By Perugino (A.D. 1490), on the dome of the chapel del Cambio, at Perugia; the heads admirable.
By Correggio (A.D. 1520), immediately under the cupola of San Giovanni, in four lunettes, magnificent figures: and again in the Cathedral of Parma, each seated in glory, with one of the doctors of the Church.
By Domenichino, two sets (A.D. 1620). Those in the church of St. Andrea della Valle, at Rome, are considered his finest works, and celebrated in the history of Art: they are grand figures. The emblematical animals are here combined with the personages in a manner the most studied and picturesque; and the angels which sport around them, playing with the mane of St. Mark’s lion, or the pallet and pencils of St. Luke, are like beautiful ‘Amoretti,’—but we hardly think of angels. The series at Grotta-Ferrata is inferior.
The Four Evangelists by Valentin (A.D. 1632), in the Louvre, had once great celebrity, and have been often engraved; they appear to me signal examples of all that should be avoided in character and sentiment. St. Matthew, for example, is an old beggar; the model for the attendant angel is a little French gamin, ‘à qui Valentin a commandé de sortir un bras de la manche de sa chemise, que de l’autre main il soutient gauchement.’
Le Sueur (A.D. 1655) has represented the Four Evangelists seated at a table writing; the Holy Ghost descends upon them in the form of a dove.
Towards the end of the seventeenth century, we find sets of the Evangelists in which the emblems are altogether omitted, and the personages distinguished by their situation, or by their names inscribed under or over them: but we miss those antique scriptural attributes which placed them before us as beings foreshadowed in the prophecies uttered of old; they have become mere men.
This must suffice for the Evangelists considered as a series and in their collective character; but it will be interesting to pause for a moment, and take a rapid retrospective view of the progress, from first to last, in the expression of an idea through form.
First, we have the mere fact; the four scrolls, or the four books.
Next, the idea; the four rivers of salvation flowing from on high, to fertilise the whole earth.
Thirdly, the prophetic Symbol; the winged cherub of fourfold aspect.
Next, the Christian Symbol; the four ‘beasts’ in the Apocalypse, with or without the angel-wings.
Then the combination of the emblematical animal with the human form.
Then the human personages, each of venerable or inspired aspect, as becomes the teacher and witness; and each attended by the scriptural emblem—no longer an emblem, but an attribute—marking his individual vocation and character.
And, lastly, the emblem and attribute both discarded, we have the human being only, holding his gospel, i.e. his version of the doctrine of Christ.