'I give up,' I admitted. 'They seem the same. No - wait a minute I' I pulled the table light nearer and bent over the plates, as Georg nodded. 'They're slightly different. What is going on?'
Quickly, figure by figure, I compared the photographs, within a few moments seized on the minute disparity. In almost every particular the pictures were identical, but one figure out of the score or more on the crowded field had been altered. On the left, where the procession wound its way up the hillside towards the three crosses, the face of one of the bystanders had been completely repainted. Although, in the centre of the painting, the Christ hung from the cross some hours after the crucifixion, by a sort ofspatio-temporal perspective - a common device in all Renaissance painting for overcoming the staile nature of the single canvas - the receding procession carried the action backwards through time, so that one followed the invisible presence of the Christ on his painful last ascent of Golgotha. The figure whose face had been repainted formed part of the crowd on the lower slopes. A tall powerfully built man in a black robe, he had obviously been the subject of special care by Leonardo, who had invested him with the magnificent physique and serpentine grace usually reserved for his depiction of angels. Looking at the photograph in my left hand, the original unretouched version, I realized that Leonardo had indeed intended the figure to represent an angel of death, or rather, one of those agents of the unconscious, terrifying in their enigmatic calm, in their brooding ambivalence, who seem to preside in his paintings over all man's deepest fears and longings, like the grey-faced statues that stare down from the midnight cornices of the necropolis at Pompeii.
All this, so typical of Leonardo and his curious vision, seemed to be summed up by the face of this tall angelic figure. Turned almost in profile over the left shoulder, the face looked up towards the cross, a faint flicker of pity investing the grey saturnine features. A high forehead, slightly flared at the temples, rose above the handsome semitic nose and mouth. A trace of a smile, of compassionate resignation and understanding, hung about the lips, providing a solitary source of light which illuminated the remainder of the face partly obscured by the shadows of the thundering sky.
In the photograph on my right, however, all this had been altered completely. The whole character of this angelic figure had been replaced by a new conception. The superficial likeness remained, but the face had lost its expression of tragic compassion. The later artist had reversed its posture altogether, and the head was turned' away from the cross and over the right shoulder towards the earthly city of Jerusalem whose spectral towers rose like a city of Miltonic hell in the blue dusk. While the other bystanders followed the ascending Christ as if helpless to assist him, the expression on the face of the black-robed figure was arrogant and critical, the tension of the averted neck muscles indicating that he had swung his head away almost in disgust from the spectacle before him.
'What is this?' I asked, pointing to the latter photograph. 'Some lost pupil's copy? I can't see why -'
Georg leaned forward and tapped the print. 'That is the original Leonardo. Don't you understand, Charles? The version on your left which you were admiring for so many minutes was superimposed by some unknown retoucher, only a few years after da Vinci's death.' He smiled at my scepticism. 'Believe me, it's true. The figure concerned is only a minor part of the composition, no one had seriously examined it before, as the rest of the painting is without doubt original. These additions were discovered five months ago shortly after the painting was removed for cleaning.
The infra-red examination revealed the completely intact profile below.'
He passed two more photographs to me, both large-scale details of the head, in which the contrasts of characterization were even more obvious. 'As you can see from the brushwork in the shading, the retouching was done by a right-handed artist, whereas we know, of course, that da Vinci was left-handed.'
'Well… ' I shrugged. 'It seems strange. But if what you say is correct, why on earth was such a small detail altered?
The whole conception of the character is different.'
'An interesting question,' Georg 'said ambiguously.
'Incidentally, the figure is that of Ahasuerus, the Wandering Jew.' He pointed to the man's feet. 'He's always conventionally represented by the crossed sandal-straps of the Essene Sect, to which Jesus himself may have belonged.'
I picked up the photographs again. 'The Wandering Jew,'
I repeated softly. 'How curious. The man who taunted Christ to move faster and was condemned to rove fiae surface of the earth until the Second Coming. It's almost as if the retoucher were an apologist for him, superimposing this expression of tragic pity over Leonardo's representation.
There's an idea for you, Georg. You know how courtiers and wealthy merchants who gathered at painters' studios were informally incorporated into their paintings - perhaps Ahasuerus would move around, posing as himself, driven by a sort of guilt compulsion, then later steal the paintings and revise them. Now there/s a theory.'
I looked across at Georg, waiting for him to reply. He was nodding slowly, eyes watching mine in unspoken agreement, all trace of humour absent. 'Georg!' I exclaimed. 'Are you serious? Do you mean - '
He interrupted me gently but forcefully. 'Charles, just give me a few more minutes to explain. I warned you that my theory was fantastic.' Before I could protest he passed me another photograph. 'The Veronese Crucifixion. See anyone you recognize? On the bottom left.'
I raised the photograph to the light. 'You're right. The late Venetian treatment ii different, far more pagan, but it's quite obvious. You know, Georg, it's a remarkable likeness.'
'Agreed. But it's not only the likeness. Look at the pose and characterization.'
Identified again by his black robes and crossed sandal straps, the figure of Ahasuerus stood among the throng on the crowded canvas. The unusual feature was not so much that the pose was again that of the retouched Leonardo, with Ahasuerus now looking with an expression of deep compassion at the dying Christ - an altogether meaningless interpretation - but the remarkable likeness between the two faces, almost as if they had been painted from the same model. The beard was perhaps a little fuller, in the Venetian manner, but the planes of the face, the flaring of the temples, the handsome coarseness of the mouth and jaw, the wise resignation in the eyes, that of some well-travelled physician witnessing an act of barbaric beauty and power, all these were exactly echoed from the Leonardo.
I gestured helplessly. 'It's an amazing coincidence.'
Georg nodded. 'Another is that this painting, like the Leonardo, was stolen shortly after being extensively cleaned.
When it was recovered in Florence two years later it was slightly damaged, and no further attempts were made to restore the painting.' Georg paused. 'Do you see my point Charles?'
'more or less. I take it you suspect that if the Veronese were now cleaned a rather different version of Ahasuerus would be found. Veronese's original depiction.'
'Exactly. After all, the present treatment make? no sense.
If you're still sceptical, look at these others.'
Standing up, we began to go through the remainder of the photographs. In each of the others, the Poussin, Holbein, Goya and Rubens, the same figure was to be found, the same dark saturnine face regarding the cross with an expression of compassionate understanding. In view of the very different styles of the artists, the degree of similarity was remarkable.
In each, as well, the pose was meaningless, the characterization completely at odds with the legendary role of Ahasuerus.