Woodcuts.

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 RomeTitle
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]

1 Laus Deo!

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.