Alexander Boguslawski: Seraph in Bosom of "Christ the Blessed Silence"

Detail, Christ the Blessed Silence

Russian, circa 1700 (30.7 x 27 cm)

(Image from The Temple Gallery)

Two blog-days ago, I posted the entire icon of which the above image is a detail, and for ease of comparison, here is the full icon, albeit much reduced in size:


As previously noted, Brandon Watson (who blogs at Siris) drew my attention to this Russian Orthodox icon some days ago when I was blogging about various depictions of Christ as a winged figure in Western art.

I noticed that the icon depicted a seraph held in the bosom of Christ, and in my response to Brandon, I called his attention to the seraph and wondered if it were an allusion to the story of St. Francis receiving the stigmata from a six-winged 'Christ' in that puzzling vision, where Christ, a seraph, and the soul of St. Francis appear to coincide in identity -- a baffling vision to which I devoted several blog entries.

Brandon doubted an allusion to St. Francis, and I myself had thought the possibility remote but wanted at least to air it.

Just to be certain that this was not such an allusion to St. Francis, and also to learn more about the icon, I emailed an expert, Professor Alexander Boguslawski, who had noticed (and commented on) an earlier post of mine on Andrei Rublev's icon of The Old Testament Trinity, for I had cited Boguslawski's analysis of that icon in my blog entry.

Before sending the email to Professor Boguslawski, I posted my query in a reply to the comment that he had posted on Rublev's icon:

By the way, if you have time, perhaps you could explain this icon showing a winged Christ the Blessed Silence with what appears to be a seraph in his bosom.

When I saw this, I wondered if there were some allusion to the winged 'Christ' of St. Francis's vision when he received the stigmata, for 'Christ' took the form of a seraph there (though such a Catholic allusion would be unexpected in an Orthodox painting).

I then sent Professor Boguslawski the mentioned email, just to make sure that he was aware of my query:

Greetings from Jeffery Hodges (aka Gypsy Scholar). I was pleased to hear from you in the comment to my blog post on Rublev. I left a reply there, and also a query, directing you to my most-recent blog entry. I'm curious about the six-winged seraph in the bosom of a winged Christ (in the form of the Blessed Silence). What does the seraph signify? If you take a look at the blog entry (and some of its links), you'll understand my query.

Here is his reply, which he posted as a comment to my blog entry of two days ago on this seraph in Christ's bosom:

I can answer some of the questions you posed, but, unfortunately, not all... The seraphim is definitely not an allusion to St. Francis, even though St. Francis did have a vision of a seraphim! The icon from the Temple Gallery seems to be absolutely unique; I looked through my extensive book collection and through the Russian Orthodox sites and found not even one similar icon of the Holy Silence. On all icons, the angelic figure is shown with hands crossed at the bosom. So why the seraphim at this particular icon? The only possible explanation I can think of would be that the author of this icon wanted to stress the closeness of the seraphim to God.

The God-loving six-winged SERAPHIM stand closer than all before their Creator and Maker, as the prophet Isaiah saw, saying: "And the seraphim stood around Him, each having six wings" (Isaiah 6:2). They are fire-like since they stand before That One of Whom it is written: "For our God is a consuming fire." (Heb. 12:29); "His throne was a flame of fire" (Dan 7:9); "the appearance of the Lord was like a blazing fire" (Ex. 24:17). Standing before such glory, the seraphim are fire-like, as it said: "Who maketh his angels spirits; his ministers a flaming fire" (Ps. 103:4). They are aflame with love for God and kindle others to such love, as I shown by their very name, for "seraphim" in the Hebrew language means: "flaming".

Icons of Holy Silence (Blessed Silence) were most popular among the Old Believers, but they, as dedicated traditionalists, would not accept any significant change in iconography. Therefore, the question why the seraphim was included in this icon remains unanswered... I wonder whether Richard Temple realized what kind of a unique work he had in his gallery.

I hope all this helps. Looking forward to finding more about this and other icons.

That the icon was "absolutely unique" thrilled me -- in an intellectual way -- and I replied:

[T]hank you for your reply to my query about the seraph in this icon.

I looked more closely at the icon at Richard Temple's website, and since the site allows close-ups of details, I was able to see the seraph more clearly. Although the figure is clearly a seraph, given the six wings, it seems to have no body and looks more like an image of the sun -- which would connect to the Hebrew meaning of "seraph" as "flaming."

This looks like a topic for an article, but I lack the expertise in icons. Perhaps you will write something?

Meanwhile, I'll post your comment as a blog entry, for this is informative stuff.

And today's is that 'promised' blog entry. Perhaps some reader who knows the explanation to this puzzling image of the the seraph in Christ's bosom will take the time to lead us through the labyrinth to the answer.

UPDATE: Concerning the seraph's lack of a body, Professor Boguslawski informs me that "In Russian tradition, seraphim are always represented this way (they can be larger in size)," so my speculation about a possible resemblence to the "sun" is perhaps way off target.

Icon of Winged Christ the Blessed Silence with a Seraph in His Bosom

Christ the Blessed Silence

Russian, circa 1700 (30.7 x 27 cm)

(Image from The Temple Gallery)

I am inspired this morning to make some brief remarks on this icon to which Brandon Watson (who blogs at Siris) drew my attention some days ago when I was blogging about various depictions of Christ as a winged figure.

Especially intriguing for me in the above icon is the seraph held in the bosom of Christ. In response to Brandon, I wondered if the seraph were an allusion to the story of St. Francis receiving the stigmata from a six-winged 'Christ' in a baffling vision in which Christ, a seraph, and the soul of St. Francis all three appear identical. Readers will recall that I devoted several blog entries to this puzzling vision.

But perhaps the icon above is presenting the Holy Spirit as emanating from the bosom of the Son -- except that I've never heard of the Spirit being depicted as a seraph. A dove, yes; but a seraph, no . . . which may suggest nothing other than my ignorance.

I'm hoping that Alexander Boguslawski, professor of Russian Studies at Rollins College might have some illuminating remarks on this icon, for he noticed that I had quoted his remarks on the depiction of a winged Christ in Rublev's famous icon presenting the Old Testament Trinity, so he posted an interesting comment on that particular blog entry.

But we'll just have to wait on that.

Meanwhile, here's a modern-day icon, a beautiful, angelic Sophie revealing words about her role in creation -- and one can also find this same Sophie linked to Milton's Paradise Lost.

Saint Francis Receiving Stigmata from Winged Christ: Interpretation

Pieter Pauwel Rubens

The Stigmatization of St Francis (c. 1616)
Oil on Canvas, Wallraf-Richartz Museum, Cologne
(Image from Web Gallery of Art)

Regarding the previous two days' posts on a 'winged Christ', I received an interesting comment from the blogger Brandon Watson, of the blog Siris, who responded to one of my closing questions. I had asked:

So . . . are we seeing an image of a winged Christ or an image of a winged seraph in the image of Christ?

Brandon suggested:

I think there's an even more complicated possibility (and I think it's the one Bonaventure is actually trying to suggest in the passage you quoted in the previous post), namely, that it is the image of Francis himself in the image of a seraph in the image of Christ crucified. I think Bonaventure, at least, wants to avoid treating the figure in the vision as directly of either Christ or a seraph because Christ is not a seraph and seraphim do not suffer. By treating the vision symbolically as being of Francis himself, Bonaventure is able to avoid suggesting that Francis's vision implied either of these, while still being able to treat it as a significant event worth careful study.

Brandon here provides support for a view that I tentatively put forth in the first of my two posts on these Medieval and Renaissance images depicting the stigmatization of Saint Francis. Concerning Bonaventure's description in Commentaries of St. Bonaventure the Bishop (Legenda S. Francisci cap. 13) of the vision experienced by Saint Francis during his stigmatization, I had written the following:

The expression "there appeared to him as it had been one of the Seraphim" comes from the Latin clause "vidit quasi spéciem uníus Séraphim," which I suppose could also be translated as "it appeared as one of the seraphim kind." My Latin is not very good, but the obscure passage seems to imply that Francis's love took the form of a seraphim in the likeness of Christ crucified.

Well, as I confessed, my Latin is poor, and I misconstrued "video" to have the meaning not only of "to see" but "to appear." I should have checked a Latin dictionary and a Latin grammar first. The Latin "vidit" must mean "he saw," i.e., that St. Francis saw. So, the original translation of "There appeared to him" was a possible way of rendering "vidit," but my suggestion of "it appeared" is totally wrong. Nevertheless, I believe that Brandon and I are correct in seeing the seraph as an image of St. Francis. Let's look again at the crucial passages from Bonaventure's Commentaries, first in Latin (for those better than I):

Dum ígitur seráphicis desideriórum ardóribus sursum agerétur in Deum, et afféctus compassiva teneritúdine in eum transformarétur, cui ex caritáte nimia crucifigi complácuit; quodam mane circa festum Exaltatiónis sanctæ Crucis, in látere montis orans, vidit quasi spéciem uníus Séraphim, sex alas tam fúlgidas quam ignítas habentem, de cælórum sublimitate descéndere. Qui, volatu celerrimo ad áëris locum viro Dei propinquum perveniens, non solum alatus, sed et crucifixus appáruit; manus quidem et pedes habens extensos et cruci affixos, alas vero sic miro modo hinc inde dispósitas, ut duas supra caput erigeret, duas ad volándum extenderet, duabus vero réliquis totum corpus circumplecténdo velaret. Hoc videns veheménter obstupuit, mixtumque dolori gáudium mens ejus incurrit, dum et in gratióso ejus aspectu, sibi tam mirabíliter quam familiáriter apparentis, excessivam quamdam concipiébat lætítiam, et dira conspecta crucis affixio ipsíus ánimam compassívi dolóris gládio pertransívit.

Intelléxit quidem, illo docénte interius qui et apparébat exterius, quod, licet passiónis infirmitas cum immortalitate spíritus seráphici nullátenus conveníret, ídeo tamen hujúsmodi visio suis fuerat præsentáta conspéctibus, ut amícus ipse Christi prænosceret, se, non per martyrium carnis sed per incendium mentis, totum in Christi Jesu crucifixi expréssam similitúdinem transformándum. Dispárens ítaque visio, post arcanum ac famíliare collóquium, mentem ipsíus seráphico interius inflammávit ardore; carnem vero Crucifixo conformi exterius insignívit effigie, tamquam si ad ignis liquefactivam virtútem præámbulam sigillativa quædam esset impréssio subsecuta.

Now, the English translation provided at the same website:

The burning of his desire made his heart rise towards God like the heart of a seraph, and his tender answering love yearned to be changed into the likeness of him who hath so loved us that he was content to bear the Cross. And it was so that one morning early, about the time of the Feast of the Exaltation of the Holy Cross, he was praying upon the side of the mountain, and there appeared to him as it had been one of the Seraphim, having six wings, glorious and fiery, flying to him from heaven. It came therefore very swiftly, and stood in the air, hard by the man of God. He beheld then the appearance thereof that it was not winged only, but crucified also. His hands and feet were stretched forth and nailed to a Cross. Twain of his wings were lifted up and joined one to the other over his head, and twain were stretched forth to fly withal, and with twain he wrapped around his body. When Francis saw it, he was sore amazed, and his soul was filled with sorrow and gladness, for the eyes of him that appeared were full of strange love and tenderness, so that he conceived great rejoicing thereat, but the nailing to the Cross was so exceedingly dreadful, that as he saw it, a sword of sorrow pierced his soul.

Then he whom he beheld with his bodily eyes, began to speak silently unto him in his heart, and he understood that albeit the deathless Séraphim cannot suffer or faint, this vision was nevertheless therefore set before him, that he might know that as a friend of Christ he was to be all changed into the likeness of Christ Jesus crucified, not by the martyrdom of the body, but by the fervour of the soul. Then they held together some sweet converse, as of a man with his friend, and the vision passed from him, but his heart was kindled inwardly with the fire of the Seraphim, and his body was outwardly changed into the likeness of him who was crucified, even as wax is softened by the fire and taketh the impression of the seal.

Bonaventure describes St. Francis as seeing his own desire for heavenly things rise like the heart of a seraph toward God and his own love for Christ yearn for transformation into the likeness of Christ crucified. This desire and yearning of his heart, his "fervour of the soul," subsequently becomes transformed into a vision of something like a seraph but also like Christ. Bonaventure apparently wants us to see Francis as envisioning his own seraphlike soul in the form of Christ crucified. Christ is not winged, and seraphs do not suffer, so Francis is seeing neither a seraph nor Christ but a vision of his own soul in the form of a seraphlike Christ, with which he converses and which transforms his body to bear the stigmata.

I'm relying on the English translation provided, so my interpretation is provisional, but it seems at least plausible. If so, then the paintings depicting the stigmatization of St. Francis are presenting us with an image of his soul in the image of a seraph in the image of Christ. The painting itself is yet another image, so we have fourfold imagery with this painting.

Rather complex, as Brandon notes.

Yet even though Christ is not being portrayed as an angel -- for a soul is being presented as a seraph in the form of Christ instead -- the effect wrought by the painting itself is precisely that of portraying Christ as an angel, at least to the uninitiated viewer.

Saint Francis Receiving Stigmata from Winged Christ: Images

The Stigmatization of St. Francis

Stained Glass Window

Cappella Baroncelli, Santa Croce, Florence

(Image from Web Gallery of Art)

Concerning yesterday's entry from the Commentaries of St. Bonaventure the Bishop (Legenda S. Francisci cap. 13) (Latin original, with English translation) on the vision of St. Francis receiving the stigmata from a winged figure, Professor Roy Flannagan, one of the scholars on the Milton List suggested this:

Jeffery, several things occurred to me after reading the account of the seraphim with stigmata and Francis, together with the Giotto painting in the basilica of Assisi: the seraph, so far as I can tell, is just an angel in Francis's dream, but an angel with the stigmata; and I think you are making a leap both in interpreting the legend and the fresco to make the angel imitating Christ into Christ himself. The point might be that both the seraph and Francis are emulating Christ in accepting his wounds.

The seraph as painted conforms to same dimensions and wing-formation as would Raphael in Paradise Lost 5.277ff or in Isaiah 6.2. Check my notes on the brightness and the color of those wings in the Riverside Milton.

And, in Assisi, doves are still very much associated with St. Francis, and, just to add another wrinkle, the dove is associated with the other members of the Trinity in Genesis when the Sprit (interpreted by Christians as the Holy Spirit) dove-like sits brooding. To quote Dolly Parton, among other interpreters, "On the wings of a snow white dove, He sends His pure sweet love...."

I replied:

Thanks, Roy. I probably wasn't very clear, but when I referred to "the 'winged Christ' . . . wounding rather than healing St. Francis," I put 'winged Christ' in scare quotes to show my uncertainty.

Here's what I posted on my blog:

The expression "there appeared to him as it had been one of the Seraphim" comes from the Latin clause "vidit quasi spéciem uníus Séraphim," which I suppose could also be translated as "it appeared as one of the seraphim kind." My Latin is not very good, but the obscure passage seems to imply that Francis's love took the form of a seraphim in the likeness of Christ crucified.

I based this inference on the context to the passage, but the text is not entirely clear to me, and later in the same source, the crucified image is referred to as a seraph, so perhaps you're correct.

However, I think that Professor Cynthia Gilliatt went too far in therefore concluding that "Renaissance paintings . . . [were] more or less devoid of [a] winged Jesus." So, I posted the following to the Milton List:

While Roy Flannagan may be correct that the figure in the vision of St. Francis is not Christ but an angel (the seraph-like figure), I think that stating that Renaissance paintings are devoid of a 'winged Jesus' might be too hasty a conclusion. Take a look at these Medieval and Renaissance images:

An unidentified work:

St Francis Receiving the Stigmata

(Artist not identified)

(Image from Franciscan Archive)

A fresco by Giotto di Bondone:

Giotto di Bondone

Stigmatization of St Francis

Fresco, Upper Basilica of St. Francis

Assisi, Italy, 1297-1300

(Image from Web Gallery of Art)

Tempera on wood by Giotto di Bondone:

Giotto di Bondone

Stigmatization of St Francis (1300)

Tempera on wood, Musée du Louvre, Paris

(Image from Web Gallery of Art)

Another fresco by Giotto di Bondone:

Giotto di Bondone

Stigmatisation of Saint Francis

Fresco, Bardi Chapel

Santa Croce, Florence, 1325

(Image from Web Gallery of Art)

Oil on panel by Jan van Eyck:

Jan van Eyck

Stigmatization of St Francis (1428-29)

Galleria Sabauda, Turin

(Image from Web Gallery of Art)

Oil on canvas by Pieter Pauwel Rubens:

Pieter Pauwel Rubens

The Stigmatization of St Francis (c. 1616)

Oil on Canvas, Wallraf-Richartz Museum, Cologne

(Image from Web Gallery of Art)

Even if the figure giving St. Francis the stigmata in the original vision is correctly interpreted as a seraph that has taken on the form of the crucified Christ, the aesthetic force of these images would be to reinforce the impression that a winged Christ appeared to St. Francis.

All that being shown and said, I doubt that Charles Wesley was influenced by any depiction of St. Francis receiving the stigmata. Rather, he was almost certainly referencing Malachi 4.2:

"But unto you that fear my name shall the Sun of righteousness arise with healing in his wings; and ye shall go forth, and grow up as calves of the stall." (Malachi 4.2)

We see a double reference in these lines of Wesley's hymn:

Hail the heaven-born Prince of Peace!
Hail the Sun of Righteousness!
Light and life to all he brings,
Risen with healing in his wings.

There's surely no need to look to a tradition of depictions of a winged Christ in Medieval and Renaissance art (or in Blake) for a source behind Wesley's imagery.

I am, however, glad that the question was posed, for I might otherwise never have become of aware of this fascinating series of artworks depicting a extraordinary winged Christ . . . or perhaps an ordinary winged seraph who happens to be crucified and looks exactly like Christ.

So . . . are we seeing an image of a winged Christ or an image of a winged seraph in the image of Christ? And would the latter have made a difference to the viewer?

Draw your own conclusions.

Saint Francis Receiving the Stigmata from a Winged Christ?

Legend of St Francis, Stigmatization of St Francis

Giotto di Bondone (1267-1337), Basilique Assise

(Image from Wikipedia)

Over at the Milton List, one of the participating scholars, Cynthia A. Gilliatt (English Department, James Madison University), posed this query:

This year during the Christmas Eve service, as we were singing one of my favorite hymns, I finally resolved to answer a question about the 3rd stanza of "Hark the Herald Angels Sing" that has niggled at me for a couple of years.

This refers to Jesus:

"Risen with healing in his wings, light and life to all he brings."

Light and life -- not an issue. Healing -- not an issue.

"... in his WINGS?"

I asked this on another list, and someone suggested that William Blake had several images of a winged Jesus, as did Renaissance paintings.

I've emailed our excellent young Romanticist to ask about Blake, about whom I am woefully ignorant.

I'm asking folks on this list -- many of whom have knowledge both broad and deep of Renaissance art -- about winged Jesus images. I can't conjure any up, but my knowledge is pretty casual.

My initial response was to note that the imagery in this Christmas song comes from Malachi 4.2:

Interesting query. I've never seen any images of a winged Jesus, but you probably know that the 'image' comes from Malachi 4:2:

"But unto you that fear my name shall the Sun of righteousness arise with healing in his wings; and ye shall go forth, and grow up as calves of the stall." Malachi 4:2, KJV

I wonder if the KJV translators were making a pun on "Son of righteousness," for I notice that they've capitalized "Sun."

By the way, the image of a winged sun is rather ancient. See the image identified as Work 53 at this website . . . . There's also this image.

The Malachi verse, I'd suggest, is the source for the line from "Hark the Herald Angels Sing" (1739), but these links to ancient Near Eastern images are too obscure for the hymn's author Charles Wesley (brother of John Wesley) -- though such images may have been in the mind of the one who wrote Malachi 4:2.

Still, I was curious (hmmm...) about what some scholar at another list had mentioned to Professor Gilliatt concerning paintings that depict Jesus with wings, so I looked into this and found the image above, which comes from the life of St. Francis of Assisi, as detailed in this passage from Commentaries of St. Bonaventure the Bishop (Legenda S. Francisci cap. 13) (Latin, followed by English translation, both borrowed from the 9/17/07 entry in the blog in illo tempore):

Fidélis revera famulus et minister Christi, Franciscus, biennio antequam spíritum redderet cælo, cum in loco excélso seorsum, qui mons Alverniæ dícitur, quadragenárium ad honórem Archangeli Michaélis jejunium inchoasset, supernæ contemplatiónis dulcédine abundantius sólito superfusus ac cæléstium desideriórum ardentiori flamma succénsus, supernárum cœpit immissiónum cumulatius dona sentire. Dum ígitur seráphicis desideriórum ardóribus sursum agerétur in Deum, et afféctus compassiva teneritúdine in eum transformarétur, cui ex caritáte nimia crucifigi complácuit; quodam mane circa festum Exaltatiónis sanctæ Crucis, in látere montis orans, vidit quasi spéciem uníus Séraphim, sex alas tam fúlgidas quam ignítas habentem, de cælórum sublimitate descéndere. Qui, volatu celerrimo ad áëris locum viro Dei propinquum perveniens, non solum alatus, sed et crucifixus appáruit; manus quidem et pedes habens extensos et cruci affixos, alas vero sic miro modo hinc inde dispósitas, ut duas supra caput erigeret, duas ad volándum extenderet, duabus vero réliquis totum corpus circumplecténdo velaret. Hoc videns veheménter obstupuit, mixtumque dolori gáudium mens ejus incurrit, dum et in gratióso ejus aspectu, sibi tam mirabíliter quam familiáriter apparentis, excessivam quamdam concipiébat lætítiam, et dira conspecta crucis affixio ipsíus ánimam compassívi dolóris gládio pertransívit.

Intelléxit quidem, illo docénte interius qui et apparébat exterius, quod, licet passiónis infirmitas cum immortalitate spíritus seráphici nullátenus conveníret, ídeo tamen hujúsmodi visio suis fuerat præsentáta conspéctibus, ut amícus ipse Christi prænosceret, se, non per martyrium carnis sed per incendium mentis, totum in Christi Jesu crucifixi expréssam similitúdinem transformándum. Dispárens ítaque visio, post arcanum ac famíliare collóquium, mentem ipsíus seráphico interius inflammávit ardore ; carnem vero Crucifixo conformi exterius insignívit effigie, tamquam si ad ignis liquefactivam virtútem præámbulam sigillativa quædam esset impréssio subsecuta. Statim namque in mánibus et pédibus ejus apparere cœpérunt signa clavórum, ipsórum capítibus in inferióri parte mánuum et superiori pedum apparéntibus, et eórum acumínibus exsisténtibus ex adverso. Dextrum quoque latus, quasi lancea transfixum, rubra cicatrice obductum erat, quod sæpe, sánguinem sacrum effúndens, túnicam et femorália respergebat.

Postquam ígitur novus homo Franciscus novo et stupéndo miraculo cláruit, cum singulári privilegio retroactis sæculis non concesso insignítus appáruit, sacris vidélicet Stigmátibus decoratus, descéndit de monte secum ferens Crucifixi effigiem, non in tábulis lapídeis vel ligneis manu figuratam artíficis, sed in carneis membris descriptam digito Dei vivi. Quóniam sacraméntum regis seraphicus vir abscóndere bonum esse optime norat, secreti regalis cónscius, signácula illa sacra pro viribus occúltábat. Verum, quia Dei est ad glóriam suam magna revelare quæ facit, Dóminus ipse, qui signácula illa sacra pro viribus occúltábat. Verum, quia Dei est ad glóriam suam magna revelare quæ facit, Dóminus ipse, qui signácula illa secrete impresserat, miracula quædam aperte per ipsa monstrávit; ut illórum occúlta et mira vis Stígmátum manifesta patéret claritáte signórum. -- Porro rem admirábilem ac tantópere testatam atque in pontificiis diplomátibus præcipuis láudibus et favóribus exáltatam, Benedíctus Papa undecimus anniversaria solemnitate celebrári vóluit; quam póstea Paulus quintus Póntifex maximus, ut corda fidélium in Christi crucifixi accenderéntur amórem, ad universam Ecclésiam propagávit.

Now for the English translation:

Francis being indeed a faithful servant and minister of Christ, about the space of two years before he gave back his spirit to heaven, withdrew himself into an high mountain apart, even that mountain which is called Mount Alverno, and began to fast for forty days to the honour of the Archangel Michael. To think of the things above gave him sweeter comfort than beforetime he was wont, and the hot longing for heaven was kindled in him, so that he began to feel that the gifts from above were poured forth upon him in such fulness as he had never felt before. The burning of his desire made his heart rise towards God like the heart of a seraph, and his tender answering love yearned to be changed into the likeness of him who hath so loved us that he was content to bear the Cross. And it was so that one morning early, about the time of the Feast of the Exaltation of the Holy Cross, he was praying upon the side of the mountain, and there appeared to him as it had been one of the Seraphim, having six wings, glorious and fiery, flying to him from heaven. It came therefore very swiftly, and stood in the air, hard by the man of God. He beheld then the appearance thereof that it was not winged only, but crucified also. His hands and feet were stretched forth and nailed to a Cross. Twain of his wings were lifted up and joined one to the other over his head, and twain were stretched forth to fly withal, and with twain he wrapped around his body. When Francis saw it, he was sore amazed, and his soul was filled with sorrow and gladness, for the eyes of him that appeared were full of strange love and tenderness, so that he conceived great rejoicing thereat, but the nailing to the Cross was so exceedingly dreadful, that as he saw it, a sword of sorrow pierced his soul.

Then he whom he beheld with his bodily eyes, began to speak silently unto him in his heart, and he understood that albeit the deathless Séraphim cannot suffer or faint, this vision was nevertheless therefore set before him, that he might know that as a friend of Christ he was to be all changed into the likeness of Christ Jesus crucified, not by the martyrdom of the body, but by the fervour of the soul. Then they held together some sweet converse, as of a man with his friend, and the vision passed from him, but his heart was kindled inwardly with the fire of the Seraphim, and his body was outwardly changed into the likeness of him who was crucified, even as wax is softened by the fire and taketh the impression of the seal. From thenceforth there were in his hands and feet the marks of the nails. The heads of the nails were seen in the palms of his hands and on the insteps of his feet, and the points came out on the backs of his hands and the soles of his feet. In his right side also was a long raw wound, as though he had been pierced with a spear, from which wound his holy blood oftentimes ran and stained his shirt and breeches.

Thereafter Francis was a new creature, famous for a new and awful sign. The holy marks of the Lord Jesus, whereon living man for twelve centuries had not been allowed to look, were his adornment. He came down from the mount bearing in himself the form of Jesus Crucified, not pourtrayed upon tables of stone or wood by the hand of any earthly craftsman, but drawn upon his flesh by the finger of the living God. The dying Seraph knew well that it is good to keep close the secret of a king, and knowing the secret of his King, he strove as far as in him lay to keep the sacred marks hidden from men. Nevertheless, forasmuch as it is the will of the Lord God for his own glory to make manifest the greatness of his own works, he openly shewed forth divers wonders through these wounds which he had himself made in secret, so that the hidden and wondrous power of the marks might become known by the fame of the miracles. -- The foregoing marvellous but thoroughly witnessed facts, which were already spoken of in Papal documents with especial praise and joy, were made, by the pleasure of Pope Benedict XI, the subject of a yearly memorial, which was afterwards extended by Paul V to the whole Church, in the hope of fanning in the hearts of the faithful the love of Christ Crucified.

The most interesting point for me lies in this vision's obscurity. Reflect again upon this passage, which describes the orign of Francis's vision in the the burning desire of his heart for heaven:

The burning of his desire made his heart rise towards God like the heart of a seraph, and his tender answering love yearned to be changed into the likeness of him who hath so loved us that he was content to bear the Cross. And it was so that one morning early, about the time of the Feast of the Exaltation of the Holy Cross, he was praying upon the side of the mountain, and there appeared to him as it had been one of the Seraphim, having six wings, glorious and fiery, flying to him from heaven. It came therefore very swiftly, and stood in the air, hard by the man of God. He beheld then the appearance thereof that it was not winged only, but crucified also. His hands and feet were stretched forth and nailed to a Cross. Twain of his wings were lifted up and joined one to the other over his head, and twain were stretched forth to fly withal, and with twain he wrapped around his body.

The expression "there appeared to him as it had been one of the Seraphim" comes from the Latin clause "vidit quasi spéciem uníus Séraphim," which I suppose could also be translated as "it appeared as one of the seraphim kind." My Latin is not very good, but the obscure passage seems to imply that Francis's love took the form of a seraphim in the likeness of Christ crucified.

I don't have time to investigate this point, but if anyone knows more about this, please comment.

Meanwhile, check these links for more images:

A brighter reproduction of the Giotto fresco above.

A site with an image of the saint's vision and with links to many more such art works depicting this (scroll down to "Art depicting St. Francis").

A site with two images depicting this vision.

I've located still other images showing St. Francis receiving the stigmata from a six-winged, Christlike figure perceived in a vision, but I've seen no references either to Malachi 4:2 or to Charles Wesley's hymn, so I'd guess that the vision of St. Francis has no connection to the verse from Malachi and that Charles Wesley was not thinking of any Medieval paintings depicting Francis's vision.

Especially since the 'winged Christ' was 'wounding' rather than 'healing' St. Francis...