THE

BIBLIOTHECA SACRA.

ARTICLE I.

THE MADONNA DI SAN SISTO.

BY REV. J. I. MOMBERT, D.D., PHILADELPHIA, PA.

DURING a prolonged residence in the charming capital of Saxony, frequent pilgrimages to its magnificent gallery of paintings were of course attended by a constantly growing admiration and enthusiasm for the superb array of works of art which are there collected, and so judiciously arranged that the gallery may without exaggeration be described, "not only as a chief centre for the enjoyment of art, but also of instruction in it to the cultivated of the whole earth." In that exquisitely beautiful temple of art, filled with the masterpieces of the most famous painters of almost every period and every country, there is probably no painting more universally admired and more frequently visited than the Madonna di San Sisto, by Raphael Sanzio of Urbino.

It has a cabinet of its own, which is almost always crowded with visitors. The cabinet is situated in the northwestern corner of the gallery; a peculiarly soft light falls on the picture, set up in an altar-like structure, and has, on account of the priceless gem it enshrines and the exquisite perfection of its peerless conception, been called by an enthusiastic lover of art "the holy of holies" of the entire gallery. The visitor, the moment he enters, feels a mysterious spell come over him. Fascinated by the eloquent

appeal to his noblest emotions and highest aspirations, which seems to address him individually and to hold him captive, he yields himself unconsciously to the magic and subtile influence that pervades that sanctuary of art; and he, in turn, becomes one of the silent admirers that gaze intently on the Madonna, of which we propose to furnish a brief description, with such matters concerning its history as may enable those who only know the picture from copies, engravings, and photographs, to study it with increased interest.

The picture represents a window; a half-opened green curtain, fastened to a rod and gathered up at the sides, supposed to have just been opened, discloses to the spectators, imagined to stand or kneel before it, that is, inside the room, a celestial vision of passing sublimity. In the centre, enthroned on clouds and surrounded by a halo of innumerable angel heads, which from a tint of pale luminous white gradually gathers intenser coloring till it culminates in softest azure, appears the Virgin Mary, holding in her right arm and supporting with her left the infant Saviour. On the Virgin's right, slightly below her, also on clouds, adores, in kneeling attitude, but with uplifted face, Pope Sixtus II.; his tiara is deposited in the extreme right corner of the embrasure, the central portion of which is occupied by two beautiful cherubs in a leaning posture, their faces turned to the spectator, but their glance directed upwards, the one seemingly lost in intent contemplation, the other in rapt introspection. On the Virgin's left, half-kneeling, also on clouds, the radiant features of St. Barbara are downwards bent toward the contemplative angels. All the figures are life-size, and so grouped together as to form a pyramid.

Returning to the central figure, and retaining the idea of a heavenly vision, we behold a woman so passing beautiful, of that beauty which the French call spirituelle, so transcendently lovely, so perfect in everything conveyed by the allied terms beauty, goodness, grace, and loveliness, that we unhesitatingly say: "Here is the visible embodiment of the classical τὸ καλόν.”

The circular shape of the seemingly moving clouds beneath her feet, suggesting the spherical form of the earth, the garments of all the figures waving under the pressure of gentle breezes, the adoring posture of St. Sixtus and St. Barbara, the background of angel hosts, and the contemplative and, as it were, interpreting cherubs in position nearest to the spectator-this striking tout-ensemble combines to prompt the thought that here is the Virgin mother with her Divine Son visiting the earth to carry to the human race the blessings of heaven. And then the Christ-child, clothed with every attribute of infant loveliness, that marvellously telling expression, that intense looking-forth, so utterly unlike infancy, and seeming to pierce one through and through, is altogether a unique creation, probably designed to kindle in the beholder's soul the conviction that in that innocent face shines forth the conscious Godhead-that the searching and suffering look is prophetic of the passion that it is, in short, "the Lamb of God, which taketh away the sin of the world." The conspicuous display of the angel-world, moreover, makes one think of the mystery which angels desire to look into.

In admirable keeping with the matchless delineation of the human face divine in the Virgin, the Christ-babe, the venerable head of the martyr-pope, and the exquisitely lovely St. Barbara, whose attribute of the tower appears immediately behind her right shoulder, are the grouping, the astonishing adjustment of space, the harmonious coloring, and the superbly chaste attire. But of such technical details as drawing and coloring we will not utter a word beyond the brief note in the gallery catalogues of 1806 and 1812, that "this painting seems to be a creation of the imagination without the brush."

The attire of the Madonna consists of a delicate crimson sopravesta, embroidered with gold, and skirt of the same material, covered from the waist downwards with a blue cloak of ample folds; from over the left shoulder depends across the chest, yet so as to be half-hidden by the infant Christ, a semi-transparent scarf of soft texture, while from

the head floats an Italian veil, surrounding her left and gathered up under the child, of drab-like tint. The attitude is that of dignified majesty; yet it is difficult to say which feeling predominates in the serene calmness of that sunny face, the innocent dignity and loving pride of the Virgin mother, or the manifest consciousness of her exaltation as a woman; the two are probably united, melting into each other. At a certain distance from the painting, and a peculiar elevation, the deep eloquence of those hazel eyes seems to address the beholder, who feels that the Virgin -who looks neither at the pope nor at St. Barbara, but sends forth her glance towards the spectator, alike heedless of the worship of venerable old age and beautiful youth-draws near as the mother in the very transport of bliss, as woman in the sublimity of virtue, and presents the incarnate Godchild; while her sweet mildness, so gentle and sympathetic, and her soft look of persuasive entreaty appears to invite him to set his affection and hope on the child Jesus.

The difficulty of portraying in words the appearance of the Virgin and the Christ vanishes with respect to the other figures of the painting; for here the real and the concrete predominate; while there we have mainly to deal with the ideal and the abstract.

The pope is arrayed in his pontificals. He wears the alba or sotane, a white linen garment reaching from the neck to the feet; the fano or ovale, a silk handkerchief; the pluviale, of gold brocade lined with red, an upper garment of ceremony; the stola, also of gold-thread texture, a sort of scarf depending from the shoulders; the last, as well as the alba, girded by the red cingulum, or girdle. The retention of these liturgical garments appears to indicate Raphael's design to introduce the pope in his representative character, while the characteristic symbol of the pontificate, the tiara, meekly deposited on the window-sill, is a significant intimation that the symbol of power, though it be a crown, or tiara, must not burden us in the presence of the Godhead. Sixtus is in the attitude of kneeling; pressing his left hand against

the chest, the head raised in supplication, and pointing with his right outwards in the direction of the spectator. The venerable head is of the Peter type, expressive of unshaken trust; his eyes are riveted on the Christ, and the outstretched right hand seems to commend to him the church. His countenance is of decided force; it glows with fiery devotion, and the supplicatory look reveals faith.

St. Barbara, half-kneeling, looking downwards to the two cherubs, with folded hands on her bosom, is a figure of consummate grace and fascinating loveliness. She is a blonde, with Grecian forehead and nose, arched eyebrows and long lashes, and an exquisitely beautiful mouth. The whole face, oval, sits on a regal neck. Her attire consists of headbands, a variegated body of yellow, with a blue upper sleeve, a light Italian scarf with red border, and a green tunic over a dark gray skirt. The anachronism of her dress, which is that of a Roman lady at the beginning of the sixteenth century, presents no difficulty; for it is doubtless the traditional beauty and self-sacrificing devotion of the martyred maiden which the great master intended to commemorate in the painting. The art critics consider this part of the picture least perfect; but it is foreign to our purpose to open a question for whose discussion we lack the appropriate qualification.

After this brief analytical description of this wonderful creation of genius, we pass on to furnish some interpretations of its import which are entitled to great respect. We begin with von Quandt's, occasioned, in 1826, by Lepel's doubts concerning the genuineness of the Sistine Madonna as a work of Raphael. A sworn champion of its unity of design, he says: "It must be a painter's first aim to satisfy the sense of sight; for his intuitions are restricted to the sphere of the visible, and the eye is the organ through which his artistic conception returns to an intellectual contemplation. This group combines the utmost diversity of figures. While the contrasts of this painting charm us and excite ever-increasing entertainment, the diversity becomes a harmonious whole,