"On the other side, at the right of the spectator, is St. Paul, holding a sword in remembrance of his martyrdom, and also as a symbol of the penetrating power of his doctrine. By his side is Abraham, with the knife to sacrifice Isaac, the first type of the sacrifice of Christ; then the apostle St. James, the third witness of the transfiguration of the Saviour, the religious type of hope, as St. Peter is of faith and St. John of love. Moses follows with the tables of the law. St. Lawrence corresponds to St. Stephen; and lastly we perceive a warlike figure, which is believed to be St. George, the patron saint of Liguria; in honor, no doubt, of Julius II., who was born in that country.
"The Holy Spirit, under the form of a dove, surrounded by four cherubim, who hold the four books of the Gospel open, is descending upon the assembly of believers.
"This sort of council, expressing theological life, is united in a half-circle around the altar, on which the Eucharist is exposed on a monstrance. Nearest to the altar, on both sides, come the four great fathers of the church, the columns of Roman Catholicism; to the left, St. Jerome, the type of contemplative life, absorbed in profound meditation on the Scriptures; near him are two books, one containing his 'Letters,' the other the Vulgate. Opposite is St. Ambrose, active especially in the militant church: he is raising his eyes and hands towards heaven, as if delighted with the angelic harmonies. St. Augustine, whom he converted to Christianity, is beside him, and is dictating his thoughts to a young man seated at his feet. His book on the 'City of God' is lying by him. St. Gregory the Great, clothed in the tiara and pontifical mantle, is opposite St. Augustine. His book on Job, with the superscription, 'Liber Moralium,' is also on the ground beside him."
Besides these, among the fifty or more figures, are other priests and philosophers, all discussing the great questions pertaining to the redemption of the world.
The pope was so overjoyed on the completion of this picture that he is said to have thrown himself upon the ground, exclaiming, with uplifted hands, "I thank thee, great God, that thou hast sent me so great a painter!"
With La Disputa the romance of Raphael's life begins. While he was painting this, tradition says that he fell in love with Margherita, the daughter of a soda-manufacturer, who lived near Santa Cecilia, on the other side of the Tiber. Passavant says, quoting from Missirini, "A small house, No. 20, in the street of Santa Dorotea, the windows of which are decorated with a pretty framework of earthenware, is pointed out as the house where she was born.
"The beautiful young girl was very frequently in a little garden adjoining the house, where, the wall not being very high, it was easy to see her from outside. So the young men, especially artists,—always passionate admirers of beauty,—did not fail to come and look at her, by climbing up above the wall.
"Raphael is said to have seen her for the first time as she was bathing her pretty feet in a little fountain in the garden. Struck by her perfect beauty, he fell deeply in love with her, and, after having made acquaintance with her, and discovered that her mind was as beautiful as her body, he became so much attached as to be unable to live without her." She has been called "Fornarina," because she was long supposed to be the daughter of a baker (fornajo).
On the rough studies made for the Disputa, now preserved in Vienna, London, and elsewhere, three love sonnets have been found in the artist's handwriting, showing that while he mused over heavenly subjects, with the faces of Peter and John before him, he had another face, more dear and beautiful than either, in his mind. Eugene Muntz, the librarian to the École Nationale des Beaux-Arts, who says of these sonnets, "So great is his delicacy of feeling, his reserve and discretion, that we can scarcely analyze his dominant idea," gives the following translation:—
"Love, thou hast bound me with the light of two eyes which torment me, with a face like snow and roses, with sweet words and tender manners. So great is my ardor that no river or sea could extinguish my fire. But I do not complain, for my ardor makes me happy.... How sweet was the chain, how light the yoke of her white arms around my neck. When those bonds were loosed, I felt a mortal grief. I will say no more; a great joy kills, and, though my thoughts turn to thee, I will keep silence."