Book 6, lines 536-559

[Previous: lines 510-535]

Two disciples have met a stranger on the road to Emmaus. They invite him to dine with them.

“Sic fatus, cœpit voces ex ordine vatum
obscuras, veterumque evolvere facta parentum,
cuncta docens letum Christo crudele minari,
quo mortale genus tenebris educeret atris.
Ut clara antiquis portendi haec omnia signis                 [540]
monstrabat ratione, oculis caligine abactâ!
Ut nostros mirâ inflexit dulcedine sensus!
Ut resoluta novo ardebant praecordia amore!
Qualiter aut aeris rigor acri solvitur aestu,
aut glacies concreta novo sub sole liquescit.                   [545]
Non illum tamen immemores agnovimus antè,
quàm ventum ad sedem, parvamque subivimus urbem.
Namque iter ulteriùs fingentem, seque ferentem
longè alias sedes petere, ambo oravimus, îsdem
nobiscum haud asper tectis succederet hospes;                [550]
id quoque praecipiti suadebat vesper Olympo,
iam piceo terras infuscans noctis amictu:
paruit, et mensas comitum est dignatus egenas.
Ut primùm fruges tostas, cerealia liba
attigit, et solito fregit de more, repentè                              [555]
nox abiit, tandemque oculis lux addita nostris.
Agnosco, et supplex manifestum numen adoro.
Sed subitô volucres abiens ceu fumus in auras
respuit humanos visus, sensusque refugit.”

------------

“And so he began explaining the prophets’
obscure words, and the deeds of the ancestors:
how they foretold the coming of Christ’s cruel death,
leading the mortal race out of black darkness.
How clearly he decoded the ancient signs                       [540]
and what they meant—drove the mist from our eyes,
charmed our senses with unexpected sweetness!
Our burning hearts melted to a new love,
like rigid bronze melting away in the fire,
or compacted ice in the morning's new sun!                     [545]
But, unmindful, we did not recognise him
until we reached our destination in the city.
He said he’d further to travel, that he sought
a far-off destination; but we both
begged him to dine with us, as our guest.                         [550]
And, persuaded by the coming of evening—
night was descending like a dark robe over all—
he agreed, and joined our humble repast.
He passed around the baked wheaten cakes and
and broke bread according to custom—and at once          [555]
darkness departed our eyes, we saw the light.
I recognised him, and kneeled as suppliant.
But he vanished, like smoke into the air,
instantly fleeing our human senses!”

------------

The culmination of the ‘Road to Emmaus’ episode is told in Luke:

Then they drew near to the village where they were going, and He indicated that He would have gone farther. But they constrained Him, saying, “Abide with us, for it is toward evening, and the day is far spent.” And He went in to stay with them.

Now it came to pass, as He sat at the table with them, that He took bread, blessed and broke it, and gave it to them. Then their eyes were opened and they knew Him; and He vanished from their sight. [Luke 24:28-31]

At the head of this post ... well, you don't need me to tell you what that image is: Caravaggio's famous ‘Supper at Emmaus’ (1602-3; it's in the National Gallery). Wikipedia, variable though it be overall, happens to have an excellent entry on this image:

Cleopas wears the scallop shell of a pilgrim. The other apostle wears torn clothes. Cleopas gesticulates in a perspectively-challenging extension of arms in and out of the frame of reference. The standing groom, forehead smooth and face in darkness, appears oblivious to the event. The painting is unusual for the life-sized figures, the dark and blank background. The table lays out a still-life meal. Like the world these apostles knew, the basket of food teeters perilously over the edge.

In the Gospel of Mark (16:12) Jesus is said to have appeared to them ‘in another form’, which may be why he is depicted beardless here, as opposed to the bearded Christ in Calling of St Matthew, where a group of seated money counters is interrupted by the recruiting Christ. It is also a recurring theme in Caravaggio's paintings to find the sublime interrupting the daily routine. The unexalted humanity is apt for this scene, since the human Jesus has made himself unrecognizable to his disciples, and at once confirms and surmounts his humanity. Caravaggio seems to suggest that perhaps a Jesus could enter our daily encounters. The dark background envelops the tableau.

In an interesting essay [‘Visualizing Appearance and Disappearance: On Caravaggio's London “Supper at Emmaus”’, The Art Bulletin, 89:3 (2007), 519-539] Lorenzo Pericolo argues that Caravaggio's bold lighting in this image is his way of apprehending the narrative's tricksy balance of appearance and disappearance. As to that latter, where Christ seems to melt away (Vida's ‘like smoke into the air’ makes me think of Macbeth's witches vanishing ‘like breath into the wind’; but presumably Shakespeare never read Vida), visual artists have a problem. Pericolo gives, for example, Grégoire Huret awkward halfway-house image of Christ actually in the process of disappearing into thin air.

Not very good, I think we can agree. Pericolo seems to me right when he suggests that Caravaggio's aesthetic strategy in this image is cannier: ‘as a narrative structure, Caravaggio's Supper at Emmaus keeps beholders in twofold indeterminacy, both perceptive and intellectual. At every step, they believe they see, almost touch, and understand the scene, whereas the unseen, the intangible, and the ambivalent are relentlessly conjured up or insinuated.’

[Next: lines 560-591]