[Illustration: _Murillo.--Guardian Angel._]
ANGELS IN ART
Art Series
[Illustration]
THE MADONNA IN ART
ESTELLE M. HURLL.
CHILD LIFE IN ART
ESTELLE M. HURLL.
ANGELS IN ART
CLARA ERSKINE CLEMENT.
LOVE IN ART
MARY KNIGHT POTTER.
[Illustration]
L. C. PAGE AND COMPANY
(INCORPORATED)
196 Summer Street, Boston, Mass.
ANGELS IN ART
BY
CLARA ERSKINE CLEMENT
AUTHOR OF
“A HANDBOOK OF LEGENDARY ART,”
“PAINTERS, SCULPTORS, ARCHITECTS, AND ENGRAVERS,”
“ARTISTS OF THE NINETEENTH CENTURY,”
ETC.
Illustrated
[Illustration]
LONDON
DAVID NUTT
1899
Colonial Press:
Electrotyped and Printed by C. H. Simonds & Co.
Boston, U. S. A.
CONTENTS.
CHAPTER PAGE
I. INTRODUCTORY 11
II. ARCHANGELS--MICHAEL 46
III. THE ARCHANGEL GABRIEL 84
IV. THE ARCHANGEL RAPHAEL 105
V. GUARDIAN ANGELS, ANGEL CHORISTERS, AND ADORING ANGELS--DEMONS
AND EVIL SPIRITS 135
VI. PICTURES OF ANGELS AS AUTHORIZED BY THE SCRIPTURES 158
VII. PICTURES WHICH ILLUSTRATE BOTH SCRIPTURE AND LEGEND 203
VIII. ANGELS IN PICTURES OF THE VIRGIN MARY 223
INDEX 263
ILLUSTRATIONS.
PAGE
MURILLO.--Guardian Angel _Frontispiece_
PERUGINO.--A Six-winged Cherub (from the Assumption
of the Virgin) 21
FRA ANGELICO.--A Glory of Angels 29
FRA ANGELICO.--An Angel of the Tabernacle 37
FRANCESCO ALBANI.--The Child Jesus with Angels 43
RAPHAEL.--The Archangel Michael casting Satan out
of Heaven 53
GUIDO RENI.--The Archangel Michael overpowering
Satan 63
H. MÜCKE.--The Translation of St. Catherine of
Alexandria 71
FRA FILIPPO LIPPI.--The Annunciation of the Death
of the Virgin Mary 79
FRA FILIPPO LIPPI.--A Divided Annunciation 89
ALESSANDRO ALLORI.--The Annunciation 95
FRA ANGELICO.--The Annunciation 101
ANDREA DEL SARTO.--The Archangel Raphael conducting
the young Tobias 111
GIOVANNI BILIVERTI.--The Archangel Raphael refusing
the Gifts of Tobias 117
SANDRO BOTTICELLI.--The Archangel Raphael (from
a picture of Tobias and the three Archangels) 123
FRA ANGELICO.--Angel Choristers 137
KAULBACH.--The Angel of Peace 141
PERUGINO.--Musical Angels 147
FRANCESCO GRANACCI.--Angels in Adoration 153
IL SODOMA.--The Sacrifice of Abraham 161
MELOZZO DA FORLI.--An Angel 173
ARY SCHEFFER.--The Temptation of Christ 181
SIR EDWARD BURNE-JONES.--Mary Magdalene at the
Sepulchre 187
FRA ANGELICO.--An Angel conducting a Soul to
Heaven 195
FRA BARTOLOMMEO.--An Angel playing the Violin 201
LORENZO DI CREDI.--An Angel in Adoration 205
FRENCH.--Death staying the Hand of the Sculptor 211
ROSSETTI.--The Annunciation 221
FRANCESCO GRANACCI.--The Virgin and Angels 225
FRANCESCO FRANCIA.--A Pietà 233
MURILLO.--The Immaculate Conception 237
SANDRO BOTTICELLI.--Madonna and Angels 243
VAN DYCK.--The Repose in Egypt 251
TITIAN.--The Assumption of the Virgin 255
ANGELS IN ART.
CHAPTER I.
INTRODUCTORY.
Angels and archangels, cherubim and seraphim, and all the glorious hosts
of heaven were a fruitful source of inspiration to the oldest painters
and sculptors whose works are known to us, while the artists of our more
practical, less dreamful age are, from time to time, inspired to
reproduce their conceptions of the guardian angels of our race.
The Almighty declared to Job that the creation of the world was welcomed
with shouts of joy by “all the sons of God,” and the story of the words
and works of the angels written in the Scriptures--from the placing of
the cherubim at the east of the Garden of Eden, to the worship of the
angel by John, in the last chapter of Revelation--presents them to us as
heavenly guides, consolers, protectors, and reprovers of human beings.
What study is more charming and restful than that of the angels as set
forth in Holy Writ and the writings of the early Church? or more
interesting to observe than the manner in which the artists of various
nations and periods have expressed their ideas concerning these
celestial messengers of God? What more fascinating, more stimulating to
the imagination and further removed from the exhausting tension of our
day and generation?
The Old Testament represents the angels as an innumerable host,
discerning good and evil by reason of superior intelligence, and
without passion doing the will of God. Having the power to slay, it is
only exercised by the command of the Almighty, and not until after the
Captivity do we read of evil angels who work wickedness among men. In
fact, after this time the Hebrews seem to have added much to their
angelic theory and faith which harmonizes with the religion of the
Chaldeans, and with the teaching of Zoroaster.
The angels of the New Testament, while exempt from need and suffering,
have sympathy with human sorrow, rejoice over repentance of sin, attend
on prayerful souls, and conduct the spirits of the just to heaven when
the earthly life is ended.
One may doubt, however, if from the Scriptural teaching concerning
angels would emanate the universal interest in their representation, and
the personal sympathy with it, which is commonly shared by all sorts
and conditions of men, did they not cherish a belief--consciously or
otherwise--that beings superior to themselves exist, and employ their
superhuman powers for the blessing of our race, and for the welfare of
individuals. Evidently Spenser felt this when he wrote:
“How oft do they their silver bowers leave,
And come to succor us that succor want?
How oft do they with golden pinions cleave
The flitting skies, like flying pursuivant,
Against foul fiends, to aid us militant?
They for us fight, they watch, and duly ward,
And their bright squadrons round about us plant,
And all for love, and nothing for reward!
Oh, why should heavenly God to men have such regard!”
As early as the fourth century the Christian Church had developed a
profound belief in the existence of both good and evil angels,--“the
foul fiends” and “bright squadrons” of Spenser’s lines,--the former
ever tempting human beings to sin, and the indulgence of their lower
natures; the latter inciting them to pursue good, forsaking evil and
pressing forward to the perfect Christian life. This faith is devoutly
maintained in the writings of the Fathers of the Church, in which we are
also taught that angelic aid may be invoked in our need, and that a
consciousness of the abiding presence of celestial beings should be a
supreme solace to human sorrow and suffering.
It remained for the theologians of the Middle Ages to exercise their
fruitful imaginations in originating a systematic classification of the
Orders of the Heavenly Host, and assigning to each rank its distinctive
office. The warrant for these discriminations may seem insufficient to
sceptical minds, but as their results are especially manifest in the
works of the old masters, some knowledge of them is necessary to the
student of Art; without it a large proportion of the famous religious
pictures of the world are utterly void of meaning.
Speaking broadly, this classification was based on that of St. Paul,
when he speaks of “the principalities and powers in heavenly places,”
and of “thrones and dominions;” on the account by Jude of the fall of
the “angels which kept not their first estate;” on the triumphs of the
Archangel Michael, and a few other texts of Scripture. Upon these
premises the angelic host was divided into three hierarchies, and these
again into nine choirs.
The first hierarchy embraces seraphim, cherubim, and thrones, the first
mention being sometimes given to the cherubim. Dionysius the
Areopagite--to whom St. Paul confided all that he had seen, when
transported to the seventh heaven--accords the first rank to the
seraphim, while the familiar hymn of St. Ambrose has accustomed us to
saying, “To Thee, cherubim and seraphim continually do cry.” Dante gives
preference to Dionysius as an authority, and says of him:
“For he had learn’d
Both this and much beside of these our orbs
From an eye-witness to Heaven’s mysteries.”
The second hierarchy includes the dominations, virtues, and powers; the
third, princedoms, archangels, and angels. The first hierarchy receives
its glory directly from the Almighty, and transmits it to the second,
which, in turn, illuminates the third, which is especially dedicated to
the care and service of the human race.
From the third hierarchy come the ministers and messengers of God; the
second is composed of governors, and the first of councillors. The
choristers of heaven are also angels, and the making of music is an
important angelic duty.
The seraphim immediately surround the throne of God, and are ever lost
in adoration and love, which is expressed in their very name, seraph
coming from a Hebrew root, meaning love. The cherubim also worship the
Creator, and are assigned to some special duties; they are superior in
knowledge, and the word cherub, also from the Hebrew, signifies to know.
Thrones sustain the seat of the Almighty.
The second hierarchy governs the elements and the stars. Princedoms
protect earthly monarchies, while archangels and angels are the agents
of God in his dealings with humanity. The title of angel, signifying a
messenger, may be, and is, given to a man bearing important tidings.
Thus the Evangelists are represented with wings, and John the Baptist
is, in this sense, an angel. The Greeks sometimes represent Christ with
wings, and call him “The Great Angel of the Will of God.”
Very early in the history of Art a system of religious symbolism
existed, a knowledge of which greatly enhances the pleasure derived from
representations of sacred subjects. In no case was this symbolism more
carefully observed than in the representations of angels. The aureole or
nimbus is never omitted from the head of an angel, and is always,
wherever used, the symbol of sanctity.
Wings are the distinctive angelic symbol, and are emblematic of spirit,
power, and swiftness. Seraphim and cherubim are usually represented by
heads with one, two, or three pairs of wings, which symbolize pure
spirit, informed by love and intelligence; the head is an emblem of the
soul, the love, the knowledge, while the wings have their usual
significance.
This manner of representing the two highest orders of angels is very
ancient, and in the earliest instances in existence the faces are human,
thoughtful, and mature. Gradually they became child-like, and were
intended to express innocence, and later they degenerated into absurd
little baby heads, with little wings folded under the chin. These in no
sense convey the original, spiritual significance of the seraphic and
cherubic head.
The first Scriptural mention of cherubim with wings occurs after the
departure of the Israelites from Egypt, Exodus xxv., 20: “And the
cherubim shall stretch forth their wings on high, covering the mercy
seat.” Isaiah gives warrant for six wings, as frequently represented in
Art, and so vividly described by Milton:
“A seraph winged; six wings he wore to shade
His lineaments divine; the pair that clad
Each shoulder broad, came mantling o’er his breast
[Illustration: PERUGINO.--A SIX-WINGED CHERUB. (FROM THE ASSUMPTION OF
THE VIRGIN.)]
With regal ornament; the middle pair
Girt like a starry zone his waist, and round
Skirted his loins and thighs with downy gold
And colors dipp’d in heaven; the third, his feet
Shadow’d from either heel with feather’d mail,
Sky-tinctured grain.”
In Ezekiel we read that “their wings were stretched upward when they
flew; when they stood they let down their wings.” There is, no doubt,
Scriptural authority for representing angels’ wings in the most
realistic manner, since Daniel says “they had wings like a fowl.” Is it
not more desirable, however, to see angel-wings rather than bird-wings?
The more devout and imaginative artists succeeded in overcoming the
commonplace in this regard by various devices. For example, Orcagna, in
the Campo Santo at Pisa, makes the bodies of his angels to end in
delicate wings instead of legs; in some old pictures the wings fade into
a cloudy vapor, or burst into flames. In one of Raphael’s frescoes in
the Vatican, we see fiery cherubs, their hair, wings, and limbs ending
in glowing flames, while their faces are full of spirit and
intelligence. Certainly, if anywhere purely impressionist painting is
acceptable and fitting, it is in the portrayal of heavenly wings.
Mrs. Jameson, in writing of this subject, says, “Infinitely more
beautiful and consistent are the nondescript wings which the early
painters gave their angels: large,--so large that, when the glorious
creature is represented as at rest, they droop from the shoulders to the
ground; with long, slender feathers, eyed sometimes like the peacock’s
train, bedropped with gold like the pheasant’s breast, tinted with azure
and violet and crimson, ‘Colors dipp’d in Heaven,’--they are really
angel-wings, not bird-wings.”
It is interesting to note that wings were used by the artists of
ancient Egypt, Babylon, Nineveh, and Etruria as symbols of might,
majesty, and divine beauty.
The representation of great numbers of angels, surrounding the Deity,
the Trinity, or the glorified Virgin, is known as a Glory of Angels, and
is most expressive and poetical when æsthetically portrayed. A Glory,
when properly represented, is composed of the hierarchies of angels in
circles, each hierarchy in its proper order. Complete Glories, with nine
circles, are exceedingly rare. Many artists contented themselves with
two or three, and sometimes but a single circle, thus symbolizing the
symbol of the Glory.
The nine choirs of angels are represented in various ways when not in a
Glory, and are frequently seen in ancient frescoes, mosaics, and
sculptures. Sometimes each choir has three figures, thus symbolizing the
Trinity; again, two figures stand for each choir, and occasionally nine
figures personate the three hierarchies; in the last representation
careful attention was given to colors as well as to symbols.
The Princedoms and Powers of Heaven are represented by rows and groups
of angels, all wearing the same dress and the same tiara, and bearing
the orb of sovereignty and wands like sceptres.
One of the most important elements in the proper painting of seraphs and
cherubs was the use of color, while greater freedom was permitted in the
portrayal of other angelic orders. In a Glory, for example, the inner
circle should be glowing red, the symbol of love; the second, blue, the
emblem of light, which again symbolizes knowledge.
Angelic symbolism in its purity makes the “blue-eyed seraphim” and the
“smiling cherubim” equally incorrect, since the seraph should be
glowing with divine love, and the face of the cherub should be
expressive of serious meditation,--as Milton says, “the Cherub
Contemplation.” The familiar cherubim beneath Raphael’s famous Madonna
di San Sisto, in the Dresden Gallery, are exquisite illustrations of
this thoughtfulness.
The colors of the oldest pictures, of the illuminated manuscripts, the
stained glass, and the painted sculptures were most carefully
considered. Gradually, however, the color law was less faithfully
observed, until, at the end of the fifteenth and the beginning of the
sixteenth centuries, it was not unusual to see the wings of cherubim in
various colors, while cherub heads were represented as floating in
clouds with no apparent wings.
Two pictures of world-wide fame illustrate this change,--Raphael’s
Madonna, mentioned above, and Perugino’s Coronation of the Virgin. In
the first, the entire background is composed of seraphs and cherubs
apparently evolved from thin blue air, and in constant danger of
disappearing in the golden-tinted background. In the second, the
multi-colored wings of the floating cherubim are beautiful and the
harmony of tones is exquisite, but they represent an innovation to which
one must become more and more accustomed as artists are less reverent in
their work.
The five angelic choirs which follow the seraphim and cherubim are not
familiar to us in works of art, although they were painted with great
accuracy in the words of the mediæval theologians.
When archangels are represented merely as belonging to their order, and
not in their distinctive offices, they are in complete armor, and bear
swords with the points upwards, and sometimes a trumpet also.
[Illustration: FRA ANGELICO.--A GLORY OF ANGELS.]
Angels are robed, and are represented in accordance with the work in
which they are engaged. Strictly speaking, the wand is the angelic
symbol, but must be frequently omitted, as when the hands are folded in
prayer, or musical instruments are in use, and in a variety of other
occupations.
All angels are said to be masculine. They are represented as having
human forms and faces, young, beautiful, perfect, with an expression of
other-worldliness. They are created beings, therefore not eternal, but
they are never old, and should not be infantile. Such representations as
can be called infant angels should symbolize the souls of regenerate
men, or the spirits of such as die in infancy,--those of whom Jesus said
that “in heaven their angels do always behold the face of my Father.”
Angels are changeless; for them time does not exist; they enjoy
perpetual youth and uninterrupted bliss. To these qualities should be
added an impression of unusual power, wisdom, innocence, and spiritual
love.
In the earliest pictures of angels the drapery was ample, and no unusual
attitudes, no insufficient robes, nor unsuitable expression was seen in
such representations so long as religious art was at its best.
White should be the prevailing color of angelic drapery, but delicate
shades of blue, red, and green were frequently employed with wonderful
effect. The Venetians used an exquisite pale salmon color in the drapery
of their angels; but no dark or heavy colors are seen in the robes of
angels in the pictures of the old Italian masters. The early German
painters, however, affected angelic draperies of such vast expanse and
weighty coloring, embroidery, and jewels, that apparently their angels
must perforce descend to earth, and never hope to rise again without a
change of toilet.
I shall presently speak of angels in their offices of messengers,
guardians, choristers, and comforters. At present I am thinking of the
multitudes of angels which were introduced into early religious pictures
to indicate a “cloud of witnesses.” They lend an element of beauty and
of spiritual emotion to the scenes honored with their presence. Their
effectiveness has appealed to many Christian architects who have fully
profited by the example of Solomon, who “carved all the walls of the
house--temple--with carved figures of cherubim,” and he made the doors
of olive-tree, and he carved on them figures of cherubim.
In the same manner, in many old churches, angels carved in marble,
stone or wood, and painted on glass, in frescoes on walls, and in
smaller pictures, fill all spaces, and are everywhere beautiful. So
long, however, as the stricter theological observances prevailed, angels
were not permitted as mere decorations, but were so placed as to
illustrate some solemn and significant portion of the belief and
teaching of the Church.
Angels were only second to the persons of the Trinity at this period,
and preceded the Evangelists. They were represented as surrounding
divine beings, and the Virgin Enthroned, or in Glory.
What was known as a Liturgy of Angels was most effective and beautiful.
It consisted of a procession of angels on each side of the choir,
apparently approaching the altar, all wearing the stole and alba of a
deacon, and bearing the implements of the mass. The statues of kneeling
angels, not infrequently placed on each side the altar, holding tapers,
or the emblems of the Passion of Christ, were not mere decorations, but
symbolized the angelic presence wherever Christ is worshipped. In short,
either processions or single figures of angels, in any part of a church,
and apparently approaching the altar, are symbols of the glorious hosts
of heaven who evermore praise God.
During the first three centuries of Christianity the representation of
angels was not permissible, and it is interesting to observe the crude
and curious manner in which they were pictured in the illuminated
manuscripts and the mosaics of the fifth century. Indeed, until the
tenth century the angels in Art were curiously formed, and more
curiously draped.
Giotto first approached the ideal representation of angels, and,
naturally, his pupils excelled him in their conception of what these
celestial beings should be. It was, however, Angelico who first--and
shall we not say last?--succeeded in portraying absolutely unearthly
angels,--angels who must have appeared to him in his holy dreams, and
impressed themselves on his pure spirit in such a wise that with mere
paints and brushes he could picture a superhuman purity.
Not an angel of Angelico’s resembles any man, while in the angels of
other masters, beautiful, seraphic, and charming as they may be, we
often fancy that we see a beautiful boy, or a happy child, who might
have served the artist as an angel-making model.
Wonderfully celestial as Angelico’s angels seem to be, they are
feminine, almost without exception. In his time this criticism was held
to be a serious one; but since angels are sexless,--according to the
religious teaching on which this
[Illustration: FRA ANGELICO.--AN ANGEL OF THE TABERNACLE.]
spiritually-minded monk relied,--I fail to see ground for disapprobation
of his work.
The angels of Giotto and Benozzo Gozzoli, with all their beauty, are
also feminine, while the great Michael Angelo, whose angels have not yet
attained to wings, failed to represent such celestial beings as one
would choose as personal attendants.
Leonardo’s angels almost grin; Correggio reproduced the lovely children
who did duty as his angels; almost the same may be said of Titian; while
in the pictures by Francesco Albani, Guido Reni, and the Caracci, the
angels are simply attractive and even elegant boys, as may be seen in
our illustration of the child Jesus with angels, by Albani. It is so
difficult to distinguish the angels of some artists from their cupids,
that one can only decide between them by learning the titles of their
pictures. These are characteristics of the works of these masters as a
whole, with rare exceptions, rather than of single pictures.
To whom, then, may one look for satisfactory angels? For myself, I
answer, to Raphael, and especially to his later works. His angels are
sexless, spiritual, graceful, and, at the same time, the personification
of intelligence and power, as may be seen in our illustration of the
Archangel Michael. Witness also the three angels in the Expulsion of
Heliodorus from the Temple, in the Stanza della Signatura, in the
Vatican. They are without wings, and none are needed to emphasize their
godlike wrath against the thief who robbed the widow and orphan in the
very temple of the Most High. The celestial warrior on his celestial
steed,--believed to be St. Michael, in his office of Protector of the
Hebrews,--the deadly mace drawn back ready to strike the fallen robber,
and his two rapidly gliding attendants, with streaming hair and swift,
spirit-like movement, are such conceptions and personifications of
superhuman power as can scarcely be paralleled in any other work of Art.
Rembrandt, too, painted wonderful angels. No adjective ordinarily
applied to such pictures is suited to these. They are poetical,
unearthly apparitions, and once studied, can no more be forgotten than
can some of Dante’s and Shakepeare’s immortal lines.
Modern artists have, speaking generally, wisely followed the examples of
old masters in their treatment of angels. The poet Blake, however, is a
notable exception to this rule. He painted angels that surely “sing to
heaven,” while they float upon the air which their diaphanous drapery
scarcely displaces, and seem about to vanish and become a portion of
the ether which surrounds them.
I cannot better close this chapter than by quoting what Mr. Ruskin
writes of the earlier and later representations of angels.
He says of the earlier pictures that there is “a certain confidence in
the way in which angels trust to their wings, very characteristic of a
period of bold and simple conception. Modern science has taught us that
a wing cannot be anatomically joined to a shoulder; and, in proportion
as painters approach more and more to the scientific, as distinguished
from the contemplative state of mind, they put the wings of their angels
on more timidly, and dwell with greater emphasis on the human form, with
less upon the wings, until these last become a species of decorative
appendage,--a mere _sign_ of an angel.
“But in Giotto’s time an angel was a
[Illustration: FRANCESCO ALBANI.--THE CHILD JESUS WITH ANGELS.]
complete creature, as much believed in as a bird, and the way in which
it would, or might, cast itself into the air, and lean hither and
thither on its plumes, was as naturally apprehended as the manner of
flight of a chough or a starling.
“Hence, Dante’s simple and most exquisite synonym for angel, ‘Bird of
God;’ and hence, also, a variety and picturesqueness in the expression
of the movements of the heavenly hierarchies by the earlier painters,
ill-replaced by the powers of foreshortening and throwing naked limbs
into fantastic positions, which appear in the cherubic groups of later
times.”