In Adolf Rosenberg’s excellent monograph on Leonardo, there is this comment upon the Last Supper: “The decisive step from a dead art, which still fettered its votaries by its traditions, into the new world of the high-est artistic perfection was only accomplished when Leonardo stood before the wall in Milan, on which his masterpiece was to be executed. When he saw that space before him, he made up his mind that his picture should, as it were, break through the wall and become an ideal expansion of the refectory, in order to let the eyes of the monks look into the distance, into eternity, whilst they were enjoying things earthly. The architectural frame of his picture aims at expanding the real space. The great master of the laws of perspective lets the side walls inchine at an obtuse angle toward the wall in the background, in which are three windows with a view of a mountain landscape of Lombardy in the soft evening light. This is the ideal background for the heroic resignation of the Savior, who stands there like a rock amongst the breakers raging around him. Every one of his disciples shows his temperament, his disposition, his innermost feeling, not only in his face but also by the hands stretched out towards his Lord and Master. Leonardo has striven to study the character of every one of these men from the writings of the Apostles, the Evangelists, the Fathers of the Church, and has taken into account the most insignificant traits in order to gain a living individuality. The very movements of the hands distinguish the man ready to commit a rash and angry deed from the gentle sufferer who is willing to follow his Master even unto death — the man of a sanguine temperament who cannot bring himself to believe in the monstrous crime from the sceptic who foresaw everything and feels a certain satisfaction in seeing his dark forebodings fulfilled. . . . Every face is a mirror reflecting the drama of the soul. Every emotion is touched, from the lovely idyl of innocence and singleness of heart; from the strongest passion to the fall into the lowest depths. . . . Many sins have been forgiven and forgotten; but the fearful guilt of Judas goes like a restless spectre of the night through the history of every nation, and no language on earth has an expression for the most wicked of all crimes, which is more annihilating than the name of Judas. Not one of all the masters who tried their skill in painting the Last Supper has struck this sinner to the very marrow as Leonardo has done. . . . If we look at the angry Peter, who had been seated near Judas but had risen instantly, ready for the combat, pressing his hand with the knife against his side, and asking John, the beloved disciple of our Lord, whom the Master really meant, then and then only we understand the fear which seized the trembling Judas when he saw the violent agitation of the man ready at any moment to draw the sword against anyone in order to protect his Master.” This is indeed a monumental tribute to a painting deserving of nothing less.