Saint Michael vs Saint George in Paintings
Published · Art & See editorial desk
Michael and George can both appear overcoming a threatening creature, but they belong to different stories. Michael is an archangel. George is the saintly knight of the dragon legend. The creature alone is therefore a poor shortcut to identity. [1][2]
Michael: the angelic combatant
The National Gallery’s glossary links Michael’s battle with Satan to Revelation. In Carlo Crivelli’s Saint Michael, about 1476, the Gallery identifies the figure above the defeated demon as the archangel. He carries a sword and scales; the catalogue relates the scales to the weighing of souls. [1][3]
Crivelli’s panel combines wings, elaborate armour and a demon beneath Michael’s feet. These details support the named identification in the museum record. Armour does not make the figure a human soldier: the artist presents an angelic warrior through a visual language also associated with princely display. [3]
George: the knight, dragon and princess
Paolo Uccello’s Saint George and the Dragon, about 1470, is National Gallery inventory NG6294. A mounted George strikes the dragon while a princess holds a leash attached to it. The museum explains that the artist brings together more than one moment from the legend, rather than illustrating a single instantaneous encounter. [2]
In this example the horse, lance and princess are informative together. They help distinguish the story from Crivelli’s confrontation between Michael and the demon. A painted narrative can compress time, so the leash should not be treated as evidence that the artist misunderstood the episode. [2]
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Useful clues, with limits
For these two documented pictures, wings belong to Michael’s appearance and the mounted knight belongs to George’s story. Use those observations as a comparison between the examples, not an inflexible rule that settles every damaged, cropped or unfamiliar image.
Check whether the catalogue describes a dragon, a demon or another adversary. Those words may carry a specific interpretive meaning. Likewise, identify the companion figures and any inscription before deciding that a sword or lance supplies the whole answer.
| What to look for | Michael: Crivelli, NG788.11 | George: Uccello, NG6294 |
|---|---|---|
| Wings | Yes, folded behind him and out of the way of his sword; his fluttering pink and green cloak echoes their colours [3] | Not described in the entry [2] |
| Armour or tunic | A gold breastplate over a chain-mail tunic, with a tunic of pink and green feathers, which the Gallery calls the armour of an angel and not of a man [3] | Plate armour, which the Gallery compares with the knights' armour in Uccello's Battle of San Romano, although less detailed [2] |
| Mounted or on foot | On foot: his feet rest on the shoulders of the fallen enemy [3] | Mounted, on a prancing charger [2] |
| Scales | Yes: he pinches a ring in his left hand and the scales hang from it, for weighing souls at the last judgement [3] | — |
| Weapon | A sword, raised to strike [3] | A spear, also called a lance in the entry, driven into the dragon's head [2] |
| The adversary | The Devil, a demon with scaly skin, furred legs, talons and bat wings, writhing underfoot [3] | A dragon whose oddly triangular shape mirrors the mouth of its cave [2] |
| Other figures present | None: demon and angel alone, gazing at each other [3] | The princess, with a leash already around the dragon's neck [2] |
Every cell comes from the National Gallery entry for that painting, and an em dash means the entry does not describe it. This is a comparison between two documented pictures, not a rule that settles a damaged, cropped or unfamiliar image. [2][3]
Keep the catalogue identity intact
Begin with the institution, full title and inventory number, then compare the image. If a source says only “angel,” do not promote that figure to Michael because it has wings or stands near a saint. If the image is incomplete, record what cannot be seen rather than treating absence as proof against the catalogue.
The comparison also benefits from separating tradition from biography. Uccello’s story is explicitly discussed as a saint’s legend; Crivelli’s subject draws on a scriptural battle and later imagery. These are sources for understanding the paintings, not eyewitness accounts supplied by their artists. [2][3]