Can we cut to the chase? There’s a tendency, these days, to badmouth Raphael. “Too perfect,” carp his critics, bemoaning the flawless execution of his paintings, and the virtuousness of his life. I don’t get it. Or, rather, I understand why people say this: we’re still in thrall to Modernism, which rejected the moribund academic tradition that, through no fault of his own, Raphael helped sire. Plus, nobody likes a goody-two-shoes.

But it’s time for them to stop. A superlative exhibition at the National Gallery, investigating the full scope of Raphael’s short career (he died in 1520, aged 37), reinvigorates the recently enfeebled concept of “genius”, by reminding us, simply, that this exemplar of the Italian Renaissance was preternaturally productive, and very, very good. Get over it. Besides, in troubled times, what’s wrong with a bit of grace and harmony? If escapism is what you’re after, Raphael beats Bridgerton. 

The gallery’s last big Raphael show, staged almost two decades ago, dramatized his early years. The son of a court painter in Urbino, in Italy’s eastern Marche, Raffaello Santi was a master by 17. This new, broadly chronological exhibition – conceived to mark the quincentenary of his death, but delayed by Covid – includes the 12 years of his maturity in Rome, where, working for two popes, the charming workaholic struck it big. Inspired by Vasari’s description of Raphael as a “universal artist”, the curators demonstrate every, often surprising, facet of his output.

Thus, within a suite of grand galleries on the first floor (chosen, thank goodness, over the Sainsbury Wing’s cramped, subterranean spaces), we discover Raphael the printmaker, architect, archaeologist, and designer of tapestries, tableware, mosaics, incense burners, and stage sets. We even meet Raphael the plumber, working on a state-of-the-art bathroom inside the Vatican. All the 90-odd works in the show are either by Raphael or derived from his designs. 

Some items may seem minor or unexciting: it’s hard to say how much people will care for, say, an architectural ground plan for a funerary chapel. Unless, of course, geeking out over art-historical detail is your thing. There’s also, for instance, the first life drawing of a female nude model since antiquity.