On the former high altar figured “Saint Dominic’s vision” by Rubens , which can be dated stylistically ca. 1618-1620. Dominic is said to have had a vision in which he saw himself and his friend Francis of Assisi protect the sinful world against the wrath of Jesus..
In line with the three worst sins man can be tempted by – pride, lust and greed – Jesus shoots as many lightnings. Mary tries to calm Him down. She proposes two loyal servants to Him, who can convert the world: Saint Dominic and Saint Francis.
By this altarpiece the attention of the Dominicans in the choir stalls was permanently drawn to their mission: to follow the footsteps of the founder of their order by mediating the Saviour’s divine mercy for humanity. This painting is now at Lyon’s Musée des Beaux Arts (see high altar).
This work was painted around 1609 and is supposed to be the first one Rubens painted after having returned to Antwerp from Italy. Apparently pretty soon bonds were established between the Preachers and Rubens. A painting of such massive dimensions (13 ft. high by 10 ft. wide) must have been intended for a large altar. It is unknown which one.
Rubens took over the composition of the painting of the same name that he had made only a year before for the Oratorian church in Fermo, but due to his steady evolution towards Baroque this work already shows freer and stronger technique. As he was still heavily influenced by Caravaggio Rubens mainly used brown hues and an outspoken chiaroscuro.
This way of illumination has been used here to illustrate the spiritual meaning of the infant Jesus as ‘the Light of the world’, or as His birth has been described in the more elaborate Nicene creed: “Light of Light”. Because Mary wants to show her New-born Child to the shepherds rushing in and folds back the cloth, the light can emanate from the Divine Child. For the shepherd who is standing on the extreme left, the light seems to be too strong, which is why he protects his eyes. In this way he illustrates ‘the people who sit in darkness have seen a great light’ (Mt. 4:16). Also symbolic are the ears of corn in the manger: they refer to ‘the bread that came down from Heaven’ (John 6:41).
However static and stereotyped the scene may seem at first sight, Rubens has managed to create more movement in it. Although all four shepherds and shepherdesses share the same admiration, each of them has been individualized by a gesture of his or her own and thanks to an astonishing foreshortening an angel tumbles down from heaven in an unseen spectacular acrobatic feat.
After it had been confiscated by the French in 1794, the painting could fortunately return after Napoleon’s defeat at Waterloo. The gigantic canvas still bears traces of the heroic rescue operation during the disastrous fire in 1968, when it had to be cut out of its frame.
The oil sketch or modello (of the Fermo version), which is kept in the Hermitage in Saint-Petersburg, is dated there at 1608.
After having been sentenced to death by the Sanhedrin and the accompanying approval of the Roman governor Pontius Pilate to have Him crucified, Jesus is first flagellated (Math 27:26; Mk 15:15).
Christ is standing with the wrists tied to the flagellation column. Rubens deliberately has Christ turning his back – in a twisted movement – towards the spectators. With this exhibition of the torturing he wants to move the spectator into compassion and through the emotions he wants to enhance the devotion to the Saviour. The colouring is meant to contribute to this emotional appeal as well. In contrast with the gloomy cellars of Pilate’s palace and the dark clothes of the executioners, the naked and bloody body of Christ is illuminated all the better. Rarely has the physical suffering of Jesus been portrayed so lively and so directly. Rubens tries nothing less than a director who pictures Jesus’ Passion in a raw film by focusing for minutes on the gruesome fate of the innocent man. One can see strips of skin being torn off and blood splashing around. While in a film the drama is raised by the slashing lashes one hears zipping through the air and by hearing them hit the tortured victim, Rubens has to stick to merely pictorial means.
The executioner in the foreground on the left is about to lash out again, with his arm that seems to come out of the frame. This movement also strengthens the power with which he goes for the victim.
Two brawny brutes, on the right, set about Jesus’ back with a rod. The black one in front is about to hit him firmly, holding the raised rod in both hands. As if this were not enough Jesus is kicked in the calves by him, to make him – literally –buckle under, while the soldier pulls away Jesus’ white loincloth in order to expose him even more to the lashes. “Surely he has borne our grieves and carried our sorrows; yet we esteemed him stricken, smitten by God, and afflicted.” (Isaiah 53:4), thus the second reading on the Wednesday of the Holy Week.
The executioner’s assistant in the back, stripped to the waist, seems to turn his eyes away and to screen his head: can he no longer bear to watch this horror, or is he trying to protect his face from the drops of blood spattering around? Or is he wiping the sweat from his forehead in order to insinuate the efforts he has taken to acquit himself of his diabolic task? On the right below a dog is watching fiercely.
Apart from a few adjustments of the composition, several details are also different from the oil sketch (Ghent, Museum of Fine Arts).
Donor: merchant Louis Clarisse; his son Mark Antony entered the Preachers in Antwerp.
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