And now we come to a subject into which Flandrin threw all his strength—The Crucifixion—which is not inferior in feeling to the great Angelico in the Convent of San Marco at Firenze. The divine expression of the dying Saviour, the heart-rending sorrow of the Mother, and the passionate grief of the Magdalen, are all exquisitely portrayed. So, too, The Sacrifice of Isaac, which is its type, is full of pathos and true religious sentiment. Proprio filio non pepercit (Romans viii. 32) is the text.
In the treatment of Jonah, the type of The Resurrection, the painter has avoided what must always be a difficulty—the great fish. Those who saw this tableau years ago at Ober-Ammergau must remember that even the good souls of that village could not divest the subject of the ludicrous element, and they did well, in 1890, to omit it. But Flandrin has got over the difficulty by making his prophet walking upon a beach, with waves breaking upon the shore around him. He has been ejected from the whale, and is giving thanks for his deliverance. Signum Jonæ Prophetæ (Matthew xii. 39).
That the Gentiles should be fellow-heirs and of the same body, and partakers of his promise in Christ by the Gospel, is the legend of the charge to Peter. Gentes esse cohaeredes ... promissionis in Christo (Ephesians iii. 6). In the foreground kneels S. Peter, to whom Our Lord gives the keys of heaven and hell: but the rest of the Apostles stand around, and form part of the group: Feed my sheep. The type is The Dispersion of the Nations subsequent to the building of Babel; and Flandrin has most graphically described the wonder and amazement of the crowd, who, not being able to converse any longer, leave the town and scatter themselves over the face of the earth.
Above the frieze of subject-pictures are numerous personages in the panels which surround the windows, all from the Old Testament: Adam and Eve, Jacob Blessing his Children, Job, Samson, Aaron, Joshua, Miriam, Deborah, Judith, and ending with John the Baptist. Adam and Eve are, perhaps, the finest of these figures. Adam stands erect, thoughtful, repentant, and ashamed; but his clasped right hand seems to indicate steadfastness of purpose to retrieve the past. Eve abandons herself to sorrow, and leans upon her husband's shoulder as if resolving in the future to depend upon him. The treatment is at once almost Classic in its simplicity, and realistic in its naturalism; the only discordant note being a something in the way in which Eve's hair falls upon her forehead, an echo, as it were, of the model, and the ugly fashion of dressing the hair peculiar to the thirties and forties, which so often shocks us in the Nymphs and Venuses by Etty, and gives them an unclothed appearance.
Formerly, judging from Dibden's account of the church, there was great display in the religious functions at S. Germain: "The immediate vicinity of S. Germain is sadly choked by stalls and shops—the West front has been cruelly covered by modern appendages. It is the church dearest to antiquaries, and with reason. I first visited it on a Sunday, when that part of the service was performed which required the fullest intonations of the organ. The effect altogether was very striking. The singular pillars of which the capitals are equally massive and grotesque, being sometimes composed of human beings, and sometimes of birds and beasts, especially towards the choir—the rising up and sitting down of the congregation, and the yet more frequent movements of the priests—the swinging of the censers—and the parade of the vergers, dressed in bag wigs, with broad red sashes of silk, and silk stockings—but above all, the most scientifically-touched, as well as the deepest and loudest toned organ I ever heard—perfectly bewildered and amazed me! Upon the dispersion of the congregation—which very shortly followed this religious excitation—I had ample leisure to survey every part of this curious old structure, which reminded me, although upon a much larger scale, of the peculiarities of S. Georges de Bocherville and Notre-Dame at Guibray. Certainly, very much of this church is of the twelfth century, and, as I am not writing to our friend N., I will make bold to say that some portions of it yet 'smacks strongly' of the eleventh."
I cannot say that I have ever noted much ceremonial, or any fine music, at S. Germain. Times have changed probably; certainly, its chief beauty now is the building itself—its grand architecture and beautiful decoration.
SAINT-GERVAIS-SAINT-PROTAIS.
There can be no doubt that the quaint inscription informing "les bonnes gens" that the church of Messeigneurs Saint Gervais et Saint Prothais was dedicated in 1420, refers to an earlier building than the present one. The Saints were twin-brothers, and are represented here as elsewhere, vested as deacons, although there is no evidence in their history of their having been in holy orders. The full inscription is as follows:—