ways abominable and
contemptible; no element of beauty or heroism was ever allowed to
remain, however obscured, in the aspect of a fallen angel. Also, the
demoniacal nature was shown in acts of betrayal, torture, or wanton
hostility; never in valiancy or perseverance of contest. I recollect
no mediaeval demon who shows as much insulting, resisting, or
contending power as Bunyan's Apollyon. They can only cheat, undermine,
and mock; never overthrow. Judas, as we should naturally anticipate,
has not in this scene the nimbus of an Apostle; yet we shall find it
restored to him in the next design. We shall discover the reason of
this only by a careful consideration of the meaning of that fresco.
* * * * *
XXVIII.
THE LAST SUPPER.
I have not examined the original fresco with care enough to be able to
say whether the uninteresting quietness of its design is redeemed by
more than ordinary attention to expression; it is one of the least
attractive subjects in the Arena Chapel, and always sure to be passed
over in any general observation of the series: nevertheless, however
unfavourably it may at first contrast with the designs of later
masters, and especially with Leonardo's, the reader should not fail to
observe that Giotto's aim, had it been successful, was the higher of
the two, as giving truer rendering of the probable fact. There is no
distinct evidence, in the sacred text, of the annunciation of coming
treachery having produced among the disciples the violent surprise and
agitation represented by Leonardo. Naturally, they would not at first
understand what was meant. They knew nothing distinctly of the
machinations of the priests; and so little of the character or
purposes of Judas, that even after he had received the sop which was
to point him out to the others as false;--and after they had heard the
injunction, "That thou doest, do quickly,"--the other disciples had
still no conception of the significance, either of the saying, or the
act: they thought that Christ meant he was to buy something for the
feast. Nay, Judas himself, so far from starting, as a convicted
traitor, and thereby betraying himself, as in Leonardo's picture, had
not, when Christ's first words were uttered, any immediately active
intention formed. The devil had not entered into him until he received
the sop. The passage in St. John's account is a curious one, and
little noticed; but it marks very distinctly the p
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