Once more he seizes his brush he has only to follow the traits impressed forever by that single vision-gleam on his memory. Now, indeed, the work was soon completed.

The next morning Lionardo did not make his appearance, nor was any reply returned to the applications of the Prior at the door: it was the day on which the picture was to be exhibited, and his remorseless enemy exulted in the belief, that, in his despair, he had sought the fate of the Judas he had found himself incompetent to depict.

At length the hour arrived, and the Duke Sforza, accompanied by the principal nobility of Milan, proceeded in state to the Dominican monastery, and gave orders that the refectory should be thrown open. The picture, which was upon the wall at one end, was concealed by a curtain; and the artist stood with his eyes cast down, and an expression of deep dejection. There was a confused murmur of voices. Curiosity and eager expectation were expressed in every countenance but that of the Prior's; on his sat triumphant revenge; the picture, he was confident, was unfinished in the most important figures, as he had himself seen it so on the preceding day.

"Let the curtain be withdrawn," said the

Duke.

Lionardo moved not.

the deep emotion of the artist rendered him powerless.

The Dominican, unable to comprehend such feelings, was confirmed in the belief that the withdrawing of the curtain would be the death-warrant of Lionardo; - he hastily seized the string, and by a sudden pull the curtain opened, and the Last Supper of Lionardo da Vinci stood revealed to the world.

Not a sound for a few moments broke the stillness that prevailed: at length murmurs of applause were heard, increasing, as the influence of the glorious work fell fuller upon the enthusiastic minds of the Italians, to raptures. The Duke arose and stood before Lionardo. "Well, noble Florentine, hast thou atoned for thy fault; I am proud to forgive thee all. On On-on, to glory, to immortality - high rewards shall be thine. But why, holy father," said he to the Prior, who still stood motionless and pale, before the picture"why stand you speechless there see you not how nobly he has redeemed his pledge?"

All eyes were turned upon the Dominican

- then to the figure of Judas. Suddenly they exclaimed, with one voice, "It is he ! it is he !"

The brothers and monks of the cloister, who detested the Prior, repeated-"Yes, it is he the Judas Iscariot who betrayed his master!

After the first surprise was over, suppressed laughter was heard. Pale with rage, the Dominican retreated behind the crowd, and made his escape to his cell, with the emotions of a demon quelled before the radiant power of an angel's divinity, and the reflection that henceforth he must go down to posterity as a second Judas! The resemblance was perfect.

And where now was Lionardo da Vinci he who stood conspicuous among the nobles of the land—he whose might of genius had cast high birth and worldly honors into obscurity? Now, surely, was the hour of his triumph!

Alas, no! he stood humbled and depressed; bitter tears bedewed his cheeks; and when the cry was repeated again and again, "It is the Prior!" he hastily quitted the presence of the Duke, and in the solitude of his own apartment, on his knees, in an agony

of repentance, "O Andrea, my master!" he exclaimed, "how have I sinned against thy memory, our art, and my own soul! I have sinned, I have sinned! It was a sacrilege in the same hour in which thou didst answer my prayer with the blessed inspiration of the vision of the Redeemer! I am unworthy of thy love, of thy divine art, and of my own respect. 'Revenge can have no part in a great mind,' was thy last precept - how much better didst thou know me than I knew myself! Strengthen and guide, henceforth, my weak and sinful nature."

Such were the emotions of the artist, while all Milan and Italy rang with the fame of the work which he himself so bitterly repented. All flocked to see it, and his renown was at its zenith. He shunned the applause, and in a humble spirit devoted himself to the pursuit of a nobler triumph than he had already achieved the triumph over himself.

This is the history of that celebrated painting, the Last Supper of Lionardo da Vinci, which is familiar to all, from the innumerable copies distributed through every civilized country, by the pencil and the burin. It is commonly understood to be a fresco; but it

1570

is not. It was painted on the dry plastering, with the use of distilled oils, in a manner invented by Lionardo. This circumstance has caused its decay. It is still in the refectory of the Dominican convent, at Milan; though, having sustained much injury from ill usage, especially when the convent was occupied by French troops at the close of the last century, it gives the traveller now but an indistinct idea of its original glory.

Lionardo da Vinci, in 1520, visited France, in consequence of the pressing solicitation of the noble and chivalric Francis I. His health was feeble, and the king often came to see him at Fontainbleau.

One, day when he entered, Lionardo rose up in his bed to receive him, but in the effort, fainted from excess of weakness. Francis hastened to support him, but the eyes of the artist had closed forever; and Lionardo lay encircled in the arms of the monarch.

This sketch was published in 1826. For some parts relating to "The Last Supper," the author was indebted to a German legend; also to a German Tragedy for some ideas in the life of Corregio.