Chapter 4

Judaea was at that time a province of the great Roman empire, and the civil authority was vested in the governor, Pontius Pilate, and a body of Roman soldiery. The Romans, however, did not interfere much with the affairs of the Jews, and there was little trouble in carrying out a plot. A formal charge against Jesus was made by false witnesses, and he was arrested as a common criminal. After being examined by the high priest, he was led to the governor for trial. "And they began to accuse him, saying, We found this fellow perverting the nation and forbidding to give tribute to Caesar, saying that he himself is Christ, a king."

Pilate now took him within his palace for a private interview, and could find no fault with him. Nor did King Herod, to whom the case was referred, differ from the governor as to the prisoner's innocence. Pilate therefore appealed to the people in behalf of Jesus, but a multitude of angry voices shouted, "Crucify him!" "Crucify him!" "And so, Pilate, willing to content the people ... delivered Jesus ... to be crucified." He was crucified, as we know, between two thieves, and over his cross was the superscription written by Pilate, in three languages, "This is Jesus, the King of the Jews."

Seven times, while he hung upon the cross, did the suffering Saviour speak aloud. "Father, forgive them," was his first exclamation, "for they know not what they do." His next words were to the thief on one side, who begged to be remembered when Jesus should come into His own: "This day shalt thou be with me in Paradise," was the reply. Then his thoughts turned lovingly to his mother, who stood with John by the cross. "Woman, behold thy son," he said to her, indicating John. Then turning to John, he added, "Behold thy mother." A moment of agony followed, when he cried, "My God, my God, why hast thou forsaken me?" After this, he said, "I thirst," and a soldier held to his lips a sponge wet with vinegar. As the end drew near came the words, "It is finished," and at last, "Father, into thy hands I commend my spirit."

In Van Dyck's picture we see nothing of the surroundings of the Crucifixion--the Roman soldiers, the curious crowd, the sorrowing friends, or the crucified thieves. Only the solitary figure of Jesus, nailed to the cross, is lifted against the strange dark sky. For three hours, as we read, there was darkness over all the land, followed immediately, after the death of Jesus, by a great earthquake. This is the moment when the storm-clouds are gathering over the face of the sun, causing its light to gleam luridly through the thick covering. The cross is rudely built of two beams in the form which is called a Latin cross. A fluttering scroll at the top of the upright beam carries the accusation "The King of the Jews."

The garments of Jesus had been stripped from his body and divided among four soldiers. He now hangs naked upon the cross save a small strip of cloth knotted about his loins, the loose ends hanging at one side. The body is somewhat slender and delicately modelled, but firm and supple as of one in the fulness of manhood. The hair falls in dishevelled locks about the face, and a mysterious light shines above the head.

As we look at the picture, each one must decide for himself what moment in the great drama is illustrated. From the expression of suffering on the countenance we judge that the end is approaching. From the lifted face and open mouth we see that the sufferer communes with his Father.

The Crucifixion is the saddest subject a painter could choose, yet notwithstanding this, it has been one of the most important subjects in Christian art. Van Dyck painted it many times, and expressed, as we see here, a deep sense of the tragic nature of the scene. Yet he always avoided those harrowing details which make some of the pictures of the older masters too painful to contemplate. For this reason his crucified Christ has been chosen as the model for the Crucifixion scene in the Passion Play at Ober-Ammergau.

We may see how wide was the range of our artist's gifts, which extended from such joyous pictures as the Rest in Egypt to a theme so solemn as the Crucifixion.

XII

JAMES STUART, DUKE OF LENNOX AND AFTERWARDS OF RICHMOND

James Stuart, Duke of Lennox, was one of the most prominent personages at the English court. His uncle was a cousin and trusted friend of King James I., and the relations between the nephew and Charles I. were even closer. Immediately upon taking a degree at Cambridge, the young nobleman entered the royal service as Gentleman of the King's Bedchamber. He was just thirteen years of age, and a born courtier. "His courtesie was his nature, not his craft," quaintly says one historian. While still in his minority, he visited France, Italy, and Spain. When Van Dyck came to England, he became at once one of the painter's most frequent sitters.

Our illustration is one of the first of the series of portraits of the Duke of Lennox, and shows him at the age of twenty. The young man stands with his hand on the head of a favorite greyhound, and turns his pleasant face to ours with a smile. He wears the habit of the Order of the Garter. This "most noble and illustrious Order" was instituted by King Edward III. under the patronage of St. George. It consisted of the sovereign and twenty-five "companions" banded together, like the knights of Arthur's Round Table, for the advancement of ideal manliness. The ceremony of investiture was very solemn, each part of the costume being placed in turn on the elect knight, when he knelt to take the vows. We note in the picture the same details which we saw in the portrait of Charles I., the mantle with the great silver star, and the gold medal, or "George," on the blue ribbon. One part of the costume not to be seen in the other picture is the garter, worn on the left leg "between the knee and the calf," as the old directions read.

The garter was, indeed, originally the most important emblem of the entire garb. It symbolized to the wearers that "as by their Order, they were join'd in a firm League of Amity and Concord, so by their Garter, as by a fast Tye of Affection, they were obliged to love one another." The garter was blue, fastened with a gold buckle, and on it was inscribed the motto, "Honi soit qui mal y pense" [Evil to him who evil thinks]. A miniature representation of the garter encircles the cross in the centre of the star, and also forms a border of the "George" medallion.

From the broad lace collar to the high-heeled shoes with their huge rosettes, the young man of the picture represents the height of the prevailing fashion. His hair is carefully curled in the manner of the Cavaliers. He is in fact the impersonation of the court life of the period. It is pleasant to fancy the graceful youth moving through the stately figures of the court dances.

It was five years after this portrait was painted that the Duke of Lennox married Mary, the daughter of the first Duke of Buckingham. Then followed the troubles in Scotland caused by the king's persistent attempt to force the liturgy of the Church of England upon the people. Lennox now showed himself a stanch adherent of the Crown, and upheld the royal cause in the face of the bitter opposition of the Scotch. His enemies thought him very haughty and severe in his manner, but his probity and sincerity seem not to have been questioned.

In 1641, he was created Duke of Richmond, and in the same year was appointed to the high office of Lord Steward of the Household. Throughout the civil war he served his royal master with untiring faithfulness, devoting a large part of his fortune to the cause of the Crown. When Charles was held a prisoner in Hampton Court, it was this friend who cheered the period of his confinement. When at last, after the execution of the king, the royal remains were buried at Windsor, the Duke of Richmond was one of the four noblemen who sorrowfully bore the pall to the grave. He died in the prime of manhood, in 1655.

A more loyal follower no king could have, yet, notwithstanding his zeal, the Duke of Lennox and Richmond failed to exert any great influence upon history, because he lacked the necessary judgment and decision of character. His portrait certainly does not indicate any special intellectual promise in the young man. Yet the face is so refined, the expression so winning, that none can help feeling the singular charm of the personality. Van Dyck understood well how to impart an air of distinction to a figure, and when, as in this case, he had a favorable subject, he was especially successful.

To lovers of dogs the greyhound is no unimportant part of our picture. The painter has expressed with much insight the character of this beautiful and high-bred creature. The muzzle is pressed affectionately to the master's side, and the eyes are fixed upon the beloved face with an expression of intense devotion. There is a tradition that this animal once saved the duke's life by rousing him from sleep at the approach of an assassin.

In the making up of the composition, the dog's figure describes a diagonal line on the left, which balances a similar diagonal on the other side made by the duke's placing his arm akimbo. Thus the general diagram of a pyramid is suggested as the basis of the grouping.

AUTHORITIES.--Robert Vaughn: _The History of England under the House of Stuarts_; L. von Ranke: _The History of England in the Seventeenth Century_; Warwick's _Memoirs_; Doyle's _Official Baronage of England_.

XIII

CHRIST AND THE PARALYTIC

It was a part of our Lord's ministry among men to restore to health the body as well as the soul. He was often moved with compassion by the disease and suffering which he saw as he went about Galilee or passed through the streets of Jerusalem. St. John, the evangelist (chapter v.), relates an incident which took place at a pool called Bethesda near a sheep market in Jerusalem.

There were here five porches in which lay "a great multitude of impotent folk, of blind, halt, withered, waiting for the moving of the water." It seems that at certain intervals the waters of the pool were troubled, as if moved by some unseen agency. It was believed that the first person stepping in thereafter would be healed of any disease he might have.

"And a certain man was there, which had an infirmity thirty and eight years. When Jesus saw him lie, and knew that he had been now a long time in that case, he saith unto him, Wilt thou be made whole? The impotent man answered him, Sir, I have no man, when the water is troubled, to put me into the pool: but while I am coming, another steppeth down before me. Jesus saith unto him, Rise, take up thy bed, and walk. And immediately the man was made whole, and took up his bed, and walked."[20]

[Footnote 20: There was another case of Christ's healing a paralytic, but as on that occasion the sick man's bed was let down through the roof into a house, the incident does not fit the picture so well as that of Bethesda.]

This is the incident illustrated by our picture. Jesus has already brought the paralytic to his feet, and now sends him on his way. Two other men complete the group, but take no part in the conversation. One is a disciple, perhaps John, who accompanies the Master, the other is a spectator peering curiously over the paralytic's shoulder.

The restored paralytic carries under one arm a rug, which has been clumsily rolled into a bundle. This is the sort of "bed" used among the poor of Eastern countries. He is but half clad in a garment which slips from his shoulders, showing his emaciated form. The face is sharpened by suffering; he is altogether a strange and repulsive figure. Like the beggar who lay in St. Martin's path he represents a degraded class of humanity.

He leans now towards his unknown friend in a pitiable effort to express his gratitude. The eyes have a look of dumb devotion like those of a faithful dog. He lays one hand humbly upon his breast. Jesus turns to the poor creature with an expression of infinite compassion. He reads the man's heart with his searching glance. Thanks he does not need; his first care is to send the man forth to begin life anew.

The head of the Saviour is painted after the ideal portrait which has been handed down from generation to generation since the early days of Christianity. The oval face with classical features, the full beard, the long hair parted in the middle, such are the familiar features which we have all come to associate with the person of Jesus. Yet notwithstanding this general similarity in the many pictures of Christ, every great artist has brought out something different in the face.

It was Titian's peculiar glory to show the intellectual side of our Lord's character as no other Italian had done. Van Dyck, with characteristic admiration for the great Venetian, followed his example. If we compare our illustration with Titian's Christ of the Tribute Money[21] we shall see how closely the former imitates the latter. Yet, as no man of imagination can copy exactly another's work, Van Dyck's ideal of Christ is less ascetic than Titian's and somewhat more benign. In both pictures the pure countenance of the Saviour is sharply contrasted with the coarse face beside him.

[Footnote 21: See Chapter VIII. of the volume on _Titian_ in the Riverside Art Series.]

We are interested to read on in St. John's narrative the sequel of the story illustrated in our picture. It happened to be the Sabbath day, and, as the restored paralytic passed through the city, the Jews said unto him: "It is not lawful for thee to carry thy bed."

"He answered them, He that made me whole, the same said unto me, Take up thy bed, and walk. Then asked they him, What man is that which said unto thee, Take up thy bed, and walk? And he that was healed wist not who it was: for Jesus had conveyed himself away, a multitude being in that place.

"Afterward Jesus findeth him in the temple and said unto him, Behold, thou art made whole: sin no more, lest a worse thing come unto thee. The man departed, and told the Jews that it was Jesus, which had made him whole."

XIV

PHILIP, LORD WHARTON

Philip, Lord Wharton, was an English nobleman of nearly the same age as the Duke of Lennox, and the two were painted by Van Dyck at about the same time. In both young men are apparent the same signs of gentle birth and breeding, a dignity of bearing, and a repose of manner characteristic of their class. That they were quite different in essential character, however, we shall presently see.

Lord Wharton was the fourth baron of his family and the second of the name Philip. He succeeded to his title as he was entering his teens, and at the age of nineteen he had become one of the most attractive figures at the court of Charles I. In this year he married Elizabeth, the daughter of Sir Rowland Wandesford. It was in honor of this occasion that the portrait of our illustration was painted.

Of a lover so handsome and graceful, the promised bride may well have been proud. His dress is rich and picturesque: the jacket is of violet velvet, the mantle of yellow satin, and the costume is set off by delicate laces at the throat and wrists. These were days when the men vied with women in fondness for finery.

Lord Wharton was at this time on terms of friendly intimacy with the king and queen. It was a flattering mark of royal favor when the king presented the young courtier with two full-length portraits of himself and of Queen Henrietta, painted by Van Dyck. Perhaps the artistic tastes they had in common formed the bond of friendship between them. Lord Wharton, it appears, admired Van Dyck's portrait work almost as much as King Charles. On his second marriage, five years later, he employed the artist to paint a number of family portraits. He prized these so highly that he built a gallery specially for them in his new house at Winchendon.

The time soon came when more strenuous questions occupied him. The contest between the king and the Parliament brought every Englishman to a parting of the ways. Lord Wharton was a Puritan, and took a decided stand on the side of Parliament. His personal relations with the king were outweighed by his sense of patriotic duty.

At the breaking out of the war he entered the Parliamentary army, serving successively as colonel of a regiment of foot, and as a captain of a troop of horse. He took part in the battle of Edgehill, and was brought into considerable prominence at this time. In a famous speech made soon afterwards, he charged the king's nephew, Prince Rupert, with gross "inhumanity and barbarousness" during the course of the battle. Evidently where his mind was made up, Lord Wharton was a strong partisan.

Of this we should suspect nothing from our portrait. It is hard to imagine that this beardless young courtier, so suave and amiable in appearance, will ten years later be fighting sternly against his king. Here his thoughts seem to be wholly romantic: his eyes have the dreamy expression of an expectant lover. His is surely a knightly soul unstained by worldliness. The face is of that perfect oval admired by artists as the highest standard of beauty. Taste and refinement are the most striking qualities one reads in it; the mouth is the most individual feature, small and modelled in delicate curves. Yet with all its sweetness, those firmly closed lips suggest tenacity of opinion and strength of will.

As the event proved, Lord Wharton was a man of uncompromising political opinions. He was at one time committed to the Tower on a charge of contempt of the House. In his long and active life he saw England pass through many changes. He was an old man when the last of the Stuart kings (James II.) fled from England, leaving a vacant throne. Macaulay tells us of the Whig nobleman's speech in the meeting of the Lords which resulted in the invitation to William and Mary of Orange to take the government. He knew how to be fair as well as severe, and a still later speech is recorded when he opposed the Abjuration Bill.[22] He died at the age of eighty-five in 1698.

[Footnote 22: This bill provided that no person should sit in either house of Parliament or hold any office without making declaration that he would stand by William and Mary against James and his adherents.]

There are other portraits by Van Dyck more vigorous than this, but none perhaps more charming. As we have seen in the portrait of the Duke of Lennox, the painter was nowhere more successful than in portraying the young courtier. We recognize the pose, with one arm akimbo, as a favorite device of Van Dyck. While in some cases it seems artificial, here it appears to be an attitude which the young man assumed of his own accord.

On his left arm he carries a tall shepherd's staff; it may be that he has sometime played a pastoral part in some masque. His costume, however, does not accord with such a part, and it is more likely that the staff is held merely to give some use to the left hand. We note in another illustration that the man called Richardot holds a book, with his hand in a similar position.

The texture painting of Lord Wharton's costume is skilfully rendered, and a rich satin hanging behind him throws a part of the figure into relief. On the other side is a glimpse of landscape lighting the composition pleasantly with a distant view.

Authorities.--Macaulay: _History of England_; Doyle's _Official Baronage of England_.

XV

THE LAMENTATION OVER CHRIST

A great company of people had followed Jesus to his crucifixion, including not only his enemies, but his friends. The beloved disciple John was accompanied by Mary. "And many women were beholding afar off, which followed Jesus from Galilee, ministering unto him; among which was Mary Magdalene, and Mary the mother of James and Joses, and the mother of Zebedee's children.

"When the even was come there came a rich man of Arimathea named Joseph, who also himself was Jesus' disciple. He went to Pilate and begged the body of Jesus. Then Pilate commanded the body to be delivered. And when Joseph had taken the body, he wrapped it in a clean linen cloth, and laid it in his own new tomb which he had hewn out in the rock: and he rolled a great stone to the door of the sepulchre and departed."[23]

[Footnote 23: St. Matthew, chapter XXVII., verses 55-60.]

During all this time two at least of the original company of women had lingered near while the body of Jesus was taken from the cross and made ready for burial. They were the mother Mary and Mary Magdalene. Even after Joseph's task was done and he had gone his way, they remained "sitting over against the sepulchre."

It is not unnatural to suppose that they may have had some share in the preparation of the body. Nicodemus, as we learn elsewhere, had brought a mixture of myrrh and aloes, which it was the custom of the Jews to use in burial.[24] Both men must have been glad of the presence and help of the faithful women.

[Footnote 24: St. John, chapter XIX., verse 39.]

Poets and painters have dwelt much on these sad moments, supplying from the imagination the details omitted in the narrative. The women must at times have been unable to restrain their tears; natural grief must have its way. Then might the men have left them awhile alone with their dead, as they busied themselves with their task.

It is some such idea as this which inspired the painting of our illustration. The mother Mary supports the head of her son upon her bosom; Mary Magdalene stoops to kiss the lifeless hand; St. John approaches at one side with a mantle.

The body of Christ, wrapped in a cloth, has been laid upon a rock in a cavern. The agony of his cruel death is past, and the face is calm as of one who sleeps. The figure is, as we have seen it on the cross, robust and well knit. Only the nail prints in hands and feet show the manner of his dying. On the ground beside him is a basin with a sponge, surrounded by tokens of the crucifixion, the crown of thorns, the nails, and the superscription.

We see in the Madonna the same stately and beautiful woman who carried her babe on the journey to Egypt. Her veil is now drawn well over her head, entirely concealing her hair. She has borne the cares of life with courage, and the years have touched her face but lightly. Even in the hour of anguish she lifts her eyes to heaven with resignation, yet one hand is extended with a gesture which seems to implore mercy.

Mary Magdalene is a much younger woman. She has peculiar reason for her devotion to Jesus, for he saved her from a strange fate.[25] Her impulsive and loving nature is now overwhelmed with grief. Her rich costume is in disorder, and her hair falls in loose locks over her shoulders. Her lovely face is very sad. Half kneeling, she presses her lips to the wound in the left hand. Her attitude and manner are full of humility, as if she felt herself unworthy to approach too near.

[Footnote 25: St. Luke, chapter VIII., verse 2.]

St. John regards the group with gentle sympathy. He is spoken of as "the disciple whom Jesus loved," so intimate was the relation between them. To his care Jesus intrusted the Mother Mary, and he now remains near as one of the few most deeply bereaved. He is very young, with a sensitive face and delicately cut features.