1. The oldest example I can cite, next to the Greek mosaics, is an old Italian print mentioned by Zani. Paul, habited as a Roman warrior, kneels with his arms crossed on his breast, and holding a scroll, on which is inscribed in Latin, ‘Lord, what shall I do?’ Christ stands opposite to him, also holding a scroll, on which is written, ‘Saul, Saul, why persecutest thou me?’ There are no attendants. Zani does not give the date of this quaint and simple version of the story.
2. Raphael. Paul, habited as a Roman soldier, is lying on the ground, as thrown from his horse; he looks upward to Christ, who appears in the clouds, attended by three child-angels: his attendants on foot and on horseback are represented as rushing to his assistance, unconscious of the vision, but panic struck by its effect on him: one attendant in the background seizes by the bridle the terrified horse. The original cartoon of this fine composition (one of the tapestries in the Vatican) is lost.
3. Michael Angelo. Paul, a noble figure, though prostrate, appears to be struck motionless and senseless: Christ seems to be rushing down from heaven surrounded by a host of angels; those of the attendants who are near to Paul are flying in all directions, while a long train of soldiers is seen ascending from the background. This grand dramatic composition forms the pendant to the Crucifixion of Peter in the Cappella Paolina. It is so darkened by age and the smoke of tapers, and so ill lighted, that it is not easily made out; but there is a fine engraving, which may be consulted.
4. Another very celebrated composition of this subject is that of Rubens.[199] Paul, lying in the foreground, expresses in his attitude the most helpless and grovelling prostration. The attendants appear very literally frightened out of their senses; and the grey horse snorting and rearing behind is the finest part of the picture: as is usual with Rubens, the effects of physical fear and amazement are given with the utmost spirit and truth; but the scriptural dignity, the supernatural terrors, of the subject are ill expressed, and the apostle himself is degraded. To go a step lower, Cuyp has given us a Conversion of St. Paul apparently for the sole purpose of introducing horses in different attitudes: the favourite dapple-grey charger is seen bounding off in terror; no one looks at St. Paul, still less to Christ above—but the horses are admirable.
5. In Albert Dürer’s print, a shower of stones is falling from heaven on St. Paul and his company.
6. There is a very curious and unusual version of this subject in a rare print by Lucas van Leyden. It is a composition of numerous figures. St. Paul is seen, blind and bewildered, led between two men; another man leads his frightened charger; several warriors and horsemen follow, and the whole procession seems to be proceeding slowly to the right. In the far distance is represented the previous moment—Paul struck down and blinded by the celestial vision.
‘Paul, after his conversion, restored to sight by Ananias,’ as a separate subject, seldom occurs; but it has been treated in the later schools by Vasari, by Cavallucci, and by P. Cortona.
‘The Jews flagellate Paul and Silas.’ I know but one picture of this subject, that of Niccolò Poussin: the angry Jews are seen driving them forth with scourges; the Elders, who have condemned them, are seated in council behind: as we might expect from the character of Poussin, the dignity of the apostles is maintained,—but it is not one of his best pictures.