Leonardo Da Vinci’s The Last Supper, part 3: Let’s talk about it!

Returning to Santa Maria delle Grazie, it was entirely sponsored by the dukes of Milan, as was customary for friaries north of the Alps. If we look at Google Maps—and I love maps of these ancient cities because the road systems often outline the locations of medieval and early modern walls—we can see the medieval walls of Sant’Ambrogio. Santa Maria delle Grazie was located just outside of those medieval walls BUT, alongside one of the main thoroughfares leading into the city. Bruzelius mentions this was commonly done to a) attract pilgrims and b) attract guilty and generous travelling merchants and tradesmen. Both groups were looking to make donations to the Church. 

The friars would have preached around this area to the public and then were supported therein by the cloister complex. One of the key spaces was the refectory where they ate. Ideally, they ate very simply to avoid a) ostentation and b) gluttony. They ate in silence while one of the brothers read passages from the Bible. The focus was meant to be spiritual and eating meant to sustain only—no pleasure! Obviously, this was an ideal; Boccaccio and Chaucer wrote brutal stories mocking the hypocrisy of friars. Nonetheless, here we are. In addition to this oratory spiritual stimulation, the space of the refectory itself was intended to stimulate spirituality. And here we get to the matter of the Last Supper. 

Leonardo’s is not the only version of the Last Supper. Like many examples of religious art, this was a popular motif, like the Crucifixion, Madonna and Child, Last Judgment, Pieta, etc. Other examples of the Last Supper include this 12^th-13^th century mosaic in Monreale Cathedral in Palermo, Sicily; another by Dieric Bouts, 1464-8; this panel from Duccio’s Maesta; Fra’ Angelico’s version from 1440-1; Ghirlandaio’s version; Gaddi’s in Santa Croce in Florence. They could be located in side chapels or were also frequently located in refectories. It’s a fitting theme for the space: as brothers ate, they were constantly reminded of Christ’s betrayal and sacrifice. But the meaning is actually even richer than that! 

Leonardo’s version (like Ghirlandaio’s) was trompe l’oeil, meaning it looks like an illusory extension of the room (thanks, linear perspective). But it’s high up, as if Christ and his apostles are on a dais. This doesn’t just signify His divinity; it’s also a familiar room set up. Lords across western and central Europe built grandiose great halls, as seen at Hampton Court Palace or Gainsborough Hall. The organization of these spaces when it came for large feasts was to have the lord (the most important person) sit front and center—often under a canopy—at the head table on a dais alongside the other key people (family and important guests). The January Page of Les Tres Riches Heures du Duc de Berry shows us what this looked like.

The rest of the hall would be populated by successive long tables with benches where the rest of the household and guests’ retinues would sit—and this included servants in the middle ages and early modern period. We don’t start to see the sharp division between family and servants—in England and Scotland, anyway—until the latter decades of the 17^th century. In any case, let’s look at the refectory of Santa Maria delle Grazie: you have this large, open chamber that would have had a similar layout of tables. High above them sat Christ and his disciples sharing the last seder supper the night before Christ’s crucifixion. He sits at the head table, the Lord of lords, breaking bread and sharing wine with His apostles and the brothers who sit in the room with Him. The beneficence of Christ has deigned to accommodate humble, apostolic brothers. 

And there we have it! Suddenly, we’ve got a much richer understanding of Leonardo’s Last Supper! These objects must always be examined with in their historical contexts. When that happens, the conspiratorial mystery surrounding them simply fades away.