Legends of the Madonna as Represented in the Fine Arts

by Mrs. Jameson

THE APPARITION OF CHRIST TO HIS MOTHER.

The enthusiastic and increasing veneration for the Madonna, the large place she filled in the religious teaching of the ecclesiastics and the religious sentiments of the people, are nowhere more apparent, nor more strikingly exhibited, than in the manner in which she was associated with the scenes which followed the Passion;—the manner in which some incidents were suggested, and treated with a peculiar reference to her, and to her maternal feelings. It is nowhere said that the Virgin Mother was one of the Marys who visited the tomb on the morning of the resurrection, and nowhere is she so represented. But out of the human sympathy with that bereaved and longing heart, arose the beautiful legend of the interview between Christ and his Mother after he had risen from the dead.

There existed a very ancient tradition (it is mentioned by St. Ambrose in the fourth century, as being then generally accepted by Christians), that Christ, after his return from Hades, visited his Mother even before he appeared to Mary Magdalene in the garden. It is not indeed so written in the Gospel; but what of that? The reasoning which led to the conclusion was very simple. He whose last earthly thought was for his Mother would not leave her without that consolation it was in his power to give; and what, as a son, it was his duty to do (for the humanity of Christ is never forgotten by those who most intensely believed in his divinity,) that, of course, he did do.

The story is thus related:—Mary, when all was "finished," retired to her chamber, and remained alone with her grief—not wailing, not repining, not hopeless, but waiting for the fulfilment of the promise. Open before her lay the volume of the prophecies; and she prayed earnestly, and she said, "Thou, didst promise, O my most dear Son! that thou wouldst rise again on the third day. Before yesterday was the day of darkness and bitterness, and, behold, this is the third day. Return then to me thy Mother; O my Son, tarry not, but come!" And while thus she prayed, lo! a bright company of angels, who entered waving their palms and radiant with joy; and they surrounded her, kneeling and singing the triumphant Easter hymn, Regina Coeli lætare, Alleluia![1] And then came Christ partly clothed in a white garment, having in his left hand the standard of the cross, as one just returned from the nether world, and victorious over the powers of sin and death. And with him came the patriarchs and prophets, whose long-imprisoned spirits he had released from Hades.[2] All these knelt before the Virgin, and saluted her, and blessed her, and thanked her, because through her had come their deliverance. But, for all this, the Mother was not comforted till she had heard the voice of her Son. Then he, raising his hand in benediction, spoke and said, "I salute thee, O my Mother!" and she, weeping tears of joy, responded, "Is it thou indeed, my most dear Son?" and she fell upon his neck, and he embraced her tenderly, and showed her the wounds he had received for sinful man. Then he bid her be comforted and weep no more, for the pain of death had passed away, and the gates of hell had not prevailed against him. And she thanked him meekly on her knees, for that he had been pleased to bring redemption to man, and to make her the humble instrument of his great mercy. And they sat and talked together, until he took leave of her to return to the garden, and to show himself to Mary Magdalene, who, next to his glorious Mother, had most need of consolation.[3]

[Footnote 1:

"Regina Coeli lætare Alleluia!
Quia quem meruisti portare, Alleluia!
Resurrexit sicut dixit, Alleluia!
Ora pro nobis Deum, Alleluia!">[

[Footnote 2: The legend of the "Descent into Hades" (or limbo), often treated of in art, will be given at length in the History of our Lord.]

[Footnote 3: I have given the legend from various sources; but there is something quite untranslatable and perfectly beautiful in the naïveté of the old Italian version. After describing the celestial music of the angels, the rejoicing of the liberated patriarchs, and the appearance of Christ, allegro, e bello e tutto lucido, it thus proceeds: "Quando ella lo vidde, gli andò incontro ella ancora con le braccia aperte, e quasi tramortita per l'allegrazza. Il benedetto Gesù l'abbraccio teneressimamente, ed ella glidesse; 'Ahi, figliuolo mio cordialissimo, sei tu veramente il mio Gesù, ò pur m'inganna l'affetto!' 'Io sono il tuo figliuolo, madre mia, dolcissima,' disse il Signore: 'cessino hormai le tue lagrime, non fare ch'io ti veda più di mala voglia, Già son finiti li tuoi e li miei travagli e dolori insieme!' Erano rimase alcune lagrime negli occhi della Vergine…. e per la grande allegrezza non poteva proferire parola alcuna … ma quando al fine potè parlare, lo ringrazio per parte di tutto il genere humano, per la redenzione, operata e fatta, per tutto generalmente."—v. Il Perfetto Legendario]

The pathetic sentiment, and all the supernatural and mystical accompaniments of this beautiful myth of the early ages, have been very inadequately rendered by the artists. It is always treated as a plain matter-of-fact scene. The Virgin kneels; the Saviour, bearing his standard, stands before her; and where the delivered patriarchs are introduced, they are generally either Adam and Eve, the authors of the fall or Abraham and David, the progenitors of Christ and the Virgin. The patriarchs are omitted in the earliest instance I can refer to, one of the carved panels of the stalls in the Cathedral of Amiens: also in the composition by Albert Durer, not included in his life of the Virgin, but forming one of the series of the Passion. Guido has represented the scene in a very fine picture, wherein an angel bears the standard of victory, and behind our Saviour are Adam and Eve. (Dresden Gal.)

Another example, by Guercino (Cathedral, Cento), is cited by Goethe as an instance of that excellence in the expression of the natural and domestic affections which characterized the painter. Mary kneels before her Son, looking up in his face with unutterable affection; he regards her with a calm, sad look, "as if within his noble soul there still remained the recollection of his sufferings and hers, outliving the pang of death, the descent into the grave, and which the resurrection had not yet dispelled." This, however, is not the sentiment, at once affectionate and joyously triumphant, of the old legend. I was pleased with a little picture in the Lichtenstein Gallery at Vienna, where the risen Saviour, standing before his Mother, points to the page of the book before her, as if he said, "See you not that thus it is written?" (Luke xxiv. 46.) Behind Jesus is St. John the Evangelist bearing the cup and the cross, as the cup of sorrow and the cross of pain, not the mere emblems. There is another example, by one of the Caracci, in the Fitzwilliam Collection at Cambridge.

A picture by Albano of this subject, in which Christ comes flying or floating on the air, like an incorporeal being, surrounded by little fluttering cherubim, very much like Cupids, is an example of all that is most false and objectionable in feeling and treatment. (Florence, Pitti Pal.)

The popularity of this scene in the Bologna school of art arose, I think, from its being adopted as one of the subjects from the Rosary, the first of "the five Glorious Mysteries;" therefore especially affected by the Dominicans, the great patrons of the Caracci at that time.

* * * * *

The ASCENSION, though one of the "Glorious Mysteries," was also accounted as the seventh and last of the sorrows of the Virgin, for she was then left alone on earth. All the old legends represent her as present on this occasion, and saying, as she followed with uplifted eyes the soaring figure of Christ, "My Son, remember me when thou comest to thy kingdom! Leave me not long after thee, my Son!" In Giotto's composition in the chapel of the Arena, at Padua, she is by far the most prominent figure. In almost all the late pictures of the Ascension, she is introduced with the other Marys, kneeling on one side, or placed in the centre among the apostles.

* * * * *

The DESCENT OF THE HOLY GHOST is a strictly scriptural subject. I have heard it said that the introduction of Mary is not authorized by the scripture narrative. I must observe, however that, without any wringing of the text for an especial purpose, the passage might be so interpreted. In the first chapter of the Acts (ver. 14), after enumerating the apostles by name, it is added, "These all continued with one accord in prayer and supplication, with the women and Mary the mother of Jesus, and with his brethren." And in the commencement of the second chapter the narrative thus proceeds: "And when the day of Pentecost was fully come, they were all with one accord in one place." The word all is, in the Concordance, referred to the previous text (ver. 14), as including Mary and the women: thus they who were constant in their love were not refused a participation in the gifts of the Spirit. Mary, in her character of the divine Mother of Wisdom, or even Wisdom herself,[1] did not, perhaps, need any accession of intellectual light; but we must remember that the Holy Spirit was the Comforter, as well as the Giver of wisdom; therefore, equally needed by those, whether men or women, who were all equally called upon to carry out the ministry of Christ in love and service, in doing and in suffering.

[Footnote 1: The sublime eulogium of Wisdom (Prov. viii. 22), is, in the Roman Catholic Church, applied to the Virgin Mary.]

In the account of the apostles I have already described at length the various treatment and most celebrated examples of this subject, and shall only make one or two observations with especial reference to the figure of the Virgin. It was in accordance with the feelings and convictions prevalent in the fifteenth century, that if Mary were admitted to be present, she would take the principal place, as Queen and Mother of the Apostles (Regina et Mater Apostolorum). She is, therefore, usually placed either in front, or in the centre on a raised seat or dais; and often holding a book (as the Mater Sapientiæ); and she receives the divine affusion either with veiled lids and meek rejoicing; or with uplifted eyes, as one inspired, she pours forth the hymn, Veni, Sancte Spiritus.

I agree with the critics that, as the Spirit descended in form of cloven tongues of fire, the emblem of the Dove, almost always introduced, is here superfluous, and, indeed, out of place.

* * * * *

I must mention here another subject altogether apocryphal, and confined to the late Spanish and Italian schools: The Virgin receives the sacramental wafer from the hand of St. John the Evangelist. This is frequently misunderstood, and styled the Communion of Mary Magdalene. But the long hair and uncovered head of the Magdalene, and the episcopal robe of St. Maximin, are in general distinguishable from the veiled matronly head of the Virgin Mother, and the deacon's vest of St. John. There is also a legend that Mary received baptism from St. Peter; but this is a subject I have never met with in art, ancient or modern. It may possibly exist.

I am not acquainted with any representations taken from the sojourn on earth of the Blessed Virgin from this time to the period of her death, the date of which is uncertain. It is, however, generally supposed to have taken place in the forty-eighth year of our era, and about eleven years after the Crucifixion, therefore in her sixtieth year. There is no distinct record, either historical or legendary, as to the manner in which she passed these years. There are, indeed, floating traditions alluded to by the early theological writers, that when the first persecution broke out at Jerusalem, Mary accompanied St. John the Evangelist to Ephesus, and was attended thither by the faithful and affectionate Mary Magdalene. Also that she dwelt for some time on Mount Carmel, in an oratory erected there by the prophet Elijah, and hence became the patroness of the Carmelites, under the title of Our Lady of Mount Carmel (La Madonna del Carmine, or del Carmelo). If there exist any creations of the artists founded on these obscure traditions, which is indeed most probable, particularly in the edifices of the Carmelites in Spain, I have not met with them.

* * * * *

It is related that before the apostles separated to obey the command of their divine Master, and preach the gospel to all the nations of the earth, they took a solemn leave of the Virgin Mary, and received her blessing. This subject has been represented, though not by any distinguished artist. I remember such a picture, apparently of the sixteenth century, in the Church of S. Maria-in-Capitolio at Cologne, and another, by Bissoni, in the San Giustina at Padua. (Sacred and Legendary Art.)

THE DEATH AND ASSUMPTION Of THE VIRGIN

Lat. Dormitio, Pausatio, Transitus, Assumptio, B. Virginis. Ital. Il Transito di Maria. Il Sonno della Beata Vergine. L' Assunzione. Fr. La Mort de la Vierge. L'Assomption. Ger. Das Absterben der Maria. Maria Himmelfahrt. August, 13, 15.

We approach the closing scenes.

Of all the representations consecrated to the glory of the Virgin, none have been more popular, more multiplied through every form of art, and more admirably treated, than her death and apotheosis. The latter in particular, under the title of "the Assumption," became the visible expression of a dogma of faith then universally received—namely, the exaltation and deification of the Virgin in the body as well as in the spirit. As such it meets us at every turn in the edifices dedicated to her; in painting over the altar, in sculpture over the portal, or gleaming upon us in light from the shining many-coloured windows. Sometimes the two subjects are combined, and the death-scene (Il transito di Maria) figured below, is, in fact, only the transition to the blessedness and exaltation figured above. But whether separate or combined, the two scenes, in themselves most beautiful and touching,—the extremes of the mournful and the majestic, the dramatic and the ideal,—offered to the medieval artists such a breadth of space for the exhibition of feeling and fancy as no other subject afforded. Consequently, among the examples handed down to us, are to be found some of the most curious and important relics of the early schools, while others rank among the grandest productions of the best ages of art.

For the proper understanding of these, it is necessary to give the old apocryphal legend at some length; for, although the very curious and extravagant details of this legend were not authorized by the Church as matters of fact or faith, it is clear that the artists were permitted thence to derive their materials and their imagery. In what manner they availed themselves of this permission, and how far the wildly poetical circumstances with which the old tradition was gradually invested, were allowed to enter into the forms of art, we shall afterwards consider.

THE LEGEND OF THE DEATH AND ASSUMPTION OF THE MOST GLORIOUS VIRGIN MARY.

Mary dwelt in the house of John upon Mount Sion looking for the fulfilment of the promise of deliverance, and she spent her days in visiting those places which had been hallowed by the baptism, the sufferings, the burial and resurrection of her divine Son, but more particularly the tomb wherein he was laid. And she did not this as seeking the living among the dead, but for consolation and for remembrance.

And on a certain day; the heart of the Virgin, being filled with an inexpressible longing to behold her Son, melted away within her, and she wept abundantly. And lo! an angel appeared before her clothed in light as with a garment. And he saluted her, and said, "Hail, O Mary! blessed by him who hath given salvation to Israel I bring thee here a branch of palm gathered in Paradise; command that it be carried before thy bier in the day of thy death; for in three days they soul shall leave thy body, and though shalt enter into Paradise, where thy Son awaits thy coming." Mary, answering, said, "If I have found grace in thy eyes, tell me first what is thy name; and grant that the apostles my brethren may be reunited to me before I die, that in their presence I may give up my soul to God. Also, I pray thee, that my soul, when delivered from my body, may not be affrighted by any spirit of darkness, nor any evil angel be allowed to have any power over me." And the angel said, "Why dost thou ask my name? My name is the Great and the Wonderful. And now doubt not that all the apostles shall be reunited, to thee this day; for he who in former times transported the prophet Habakkuk from Judea to Jerusalem by the hair of his head, can as easily bring hither the apostles. And fear thou not the evil spirit, for hast thou not bruised his head and destroyed his kingdom?" And having said these words, the angel departed into heaven; and the palm branch which he had left behind him shed light from every leaf, and sparkled as the stars of the morning. Then Mary lighted, the lamps and prepared her bed, and waited until the hour was come. And in the same instant John, who was preaching at Ephesus, and Peter, who was preaching at Antioch, and all the other apostles who were dispersed in different parts of the world, were suddenly caught up as by a miraculous power, and found themselves before the door of the habitation of Mary. When Mary saw them all assembled round her, she blessed and thanked the Lord, and she placed in the hands of St. John the shining palm, and desired that he should bear it before her at the time of her burial. Then Mary, kneeling down, made her prayer to the Lord her Son, and the others prayed with her; then she laid herself down in her bed and composed herself for death. And John wept bitterly. And about the third hour of the night, as Peter stood at the head of the bed and John at the foot, and the other apostles around, a mighty sound filled the house, and a delicious perfume filled the chamber. And Jesus himself appeared accompanied by an innumerable company of angels, patriarchs, and prophets; all these surrounded the bed of the Virgin, singing hymns of joy. And Jesus said to his Mother, "Arise, my beloved, mine elect! come with me from Lebanon, my espoused! receive the crown that is destined for thee!" And Mary, answering, said, "My heart is ready; for it was written of me that I should do thy will!" Then all the angels and blessed spirits who accompanied Jesus began to sing and rejoice. And the soul of Mary left her body, and was received into the arms of her Son; and together they ascended into heaven.[1] And the apostles looked up, saying, "Oh most prudent Virgin, remember us when thou comest to glory!" and the angels, who received her into heaven, sung these words, "Who is this that cometh up from the wilderness leaning upon her Beloved? she is fairer than all the daughters of Jerusalem."

[Footnote 1: In the later French legend, it is the angel Michael who takes charge of the departing soul. "Ecce Dominus venit cum multitudine angelorum; et Jésus Christ vint en grande compaignie d'anges; entre lesquels estoit Sainct Michel, et quand la Vierge Marie le veit elle dit, 'Benoist soit Jésus Christ car il ne m'a pas oubliée.' Quand elle eut ce dit elle rendit l'esprit, lequel Sainct Michel print.">[

But the body of Mary remained upon the earth; and three among the virgins prepared to wash and clothe it in a shroud; but such a glory of light surrounded her form, that though they touched it they could not see it, and no human eye beheld those chaste and sacred limbs unclothed. Then the apostles took her up reverently and placed her upon a bier, and John, carrying the celestial palm, went before. Peter sung the 114th Psalm, "In exitu Israel de Egypto, domus Jacob de populo barbaro," and the angels followed after, also singing. The wicked Jews, hearing these melodious voices, ran together; and the high-priest, being seized with fury, laid his hands upon the bier intending to overturn it on the earth; but both his arms were suddenly dried up, so that he could not move them, and he was overcome with fear; and he prayed to St. Peter for help, and Peter said, "Have faith in Jesus Christ, and his Mother, and thon shalt be healed;" and it was so. Then they went on and laid the Virgin in a tomb in the Valley of Jehoshaphat.[1]

[Footnote 1: Or Gethsemane. I must observe here, that in the genuine oriental legend, it is Michael the Archangel who hews off the hands of the audacious Jew, which were afterwards, at the intercession of St. Peter, reunited to his body.]

And on the third day, Jesus said to the angels, "What honour shall I confer on her who was my mother on earth, and brought me forth?" And they answered, "Lord, suffer not that body which was thy temple and thy dwelling to see corruption; but place her beside thee on thy throne in heaven." And Jesus consented; and the Archangel Michael brought unto the Lord, the glorious soul of our Lady. And the Lord said, "Rise up, my dove, my undefiled, for thou shalt not remain in the darkness of the grave, nor shall thou see corruption;" and immediately the soul of Mary rejoined her body, and she arose up glorious from the tomb, and ascended into heaven surrounded and welcomed by troops of angels, blowing their silver trumpets, touching their golden lutes, singing, and rejoicing as they sung, "Who is she that riseth as the morning, fair as the moon, clear as the sun, and terrible as an army with banners?" (Cant. vi. 10.)

But one among the apostles was absent; and when he arrived soon after, he would not believe in the resurrection of the Virgin; and this apostle was the same Thomas, who had formerly been slow to believe in the resurrection of the Lord; and he desired that the tomb should be opened before him; and when it was opened it was found to be full of lilies and roses. Then Thomas, looking up to heaven, beheld the Virgin bodily, in a glory of light, slowly mounting towards the heaven; and she, for the assurance of his faith, flung down to him her girdle, the same which is to this day preserved in the cathedral of Prato. And there were present at the death of the Virgin Mary, besides the twelve apostles, Dionysius the Areopagite, Timotheus, and Hierotheus; and of the women, Mary Salome, Mary Cleophas,[1] and a faithful handmaid whose name was Savia.

[Footnote 1: According to the French legend, Mary Magdalene and her sister Martha were also present.]

* * * * *

This legend of the Death and Assumption of the Virgin has afforded to the artists seven distinct scenes.

1. The Angel, bearing the palm, announces to Mary her approaching death. The announcing angel is usually supposed to be Gabriel, but it is properly Michael, the "angel of death." 2. She takes leave of the Apostles. 3. Her Death. 4. She is borne to the Sepulchre. 5. Her Entombment. 6. Her Assumption, where she rises triumphant and glorious, "like unto the morning" ("quasi aurora consurgens"). 7. Her Coronation in heaven, where she takes her place beside her Son.

In early art, particularly in the Gothic sculpture, two or more of these subjects are generally grouped together. Sometimes we have the death-scene and the entombment on a line below, and, above these, the coronation or the assumption, as over the portal of Notre Dame at Paris, and in many other instances; or we have first her death, above this, her assumption, and, above all, her coronation; as over the portal at Amiens and elsewhere.

* * * * *

I shall now take these subjects in their order.

The angel announcing to Mary her approaching death has been rarely treated. In general, Mary is seated or standing, and the angel kneels before her, bearing the starry palm brought from Paradise. In the frescoes at Orvieto, and in the bas-relief of Oreagna,[1] the angel comes flying downwards with the palm. In a predella by Fra Filippo Lippi, the angel kneels, reverently presenting a taper, which the Virgin receives with majestic grace; St. Peter stands behind. It was the custom to place a taper in the hand of a dying person; and as the palm is also given sometimes to the angel of the incarnation, while the taper can have but one meaning, the significance of the scene is here fixed beyond the possibility of mistake, though there is a departure from the literal details of the old legend. There is in the Munich Gallery a curious German example of this subject by Hans Schauffelein.

[Footnote 1: On the beautiful shrine in Or-San-Michele, at Florence.]

* * * * *

The death of the Virgin is styled in Byzantine and old Italian art the Sleep of the Virgin, Il Sonno della Madonna; for it was an old superstition, subsequently rejected as heretical, that she did not really die after the manner of common mortals, only fell asleep till her resurrection. Therefore, perhaps, it is, that in the early pictures we have before us, not so much a scene or action, as a sort of mysterious rite; it is not the Virgin dead or dying in her bed; she only slumbers in preparation for her entombment; while in the later pictures, we have a death-bed scene with all the usual dramatic and pathetic accessories.

In one sense or the other, the theme has been constantly treated, from the earliest ages of the revival of art down to the seventeenth century.

In the most ancient examples which are derived from the Greek school, it is always represented with a mystical and solemn simplicity, adhering closely to the old legend, and to the formula laid down in the Greek Manual.

There is such a picture in the Wallerstein Collection at Kensington Palace. The couch or bier is in the centre of the picture, and Mary lies upon it wrapped in a veil and mantle with closed eyes and hands crossed over her bosom. The twelve apostles stand round in attitudes of grief angels attend bearing tapers. Behind the extended form of the Virgin is the figure of Christ; a glorious red seraph with expanded wings hovers above his head. He holds in his arms the soul of the Virgin in likeness of a new-born child. On each side stand St. Dionysius the Areopagite, and St. Timothy, Bishop of Ephesas, in episcopal robes. In front, the archangel Michael bends forward to strike off the hands of the high-priest Adonijah, who had attempted to profane the bier. (This last circumstance is rarely expressed, except in the Byzantine pictures; for in the Italian legend, the hands of the intruder wither and adhere to the bed or shrine.) In the picture just described; all is at once simple, and formal, and solemn, and supernatural; it is a very perfect example in its way of the genuine Byzantine treatment. There is a similar picture in the Christian museum of the Vatican.

Another (the date about the first half of the fourteenth century, as I think) is curious from the introduction of the women.[1] The Virgin lies on an embroidered sheet held reverently by angels; at the feet and at the head other angels bear tapers; Christ receives the departing soul, which stretches out its arms; St. John kneels in front, and St. Peter reads the service; the other apostles are behind him, and there are three women. The execution of this curious picture is extremely rude, but the heads very fine. Cimabue painted the Death of the Virgin at Assisi. There is a beautiful example by Giotto, where two lovely angels stand at the head and two at the feet, sustaining the pall on which she lies; another most exquisite by Angelico in the Florence Gallery; another most beautiful and pathetic by Taddeo Bartoli in the Palazzo Publico at Siena.

[Footnote 1: At present in the collection of Mr. Bromley, of Wootten.]

The custom of representing Christ as standing by the couch or tomb of his mother, in the act of receiving her soul, continued down to the fifteenth century, at least with slight deviations from the original conception. The later treatment is quite different. The solemn mysterious sleep, the transition from one life to another, became a familiar death-bed scene with the usual moving accompaniments. But even while avoiding the supernatural incidents, the Italians gave to the representation much ideal elegance; for instance, in the beautiful fresco by Ghirlandajo. (Florence, S. Maria-Novella.)

* * * * *

In the old German school we have that homely matter-of-fact feeling, and dramatic expression, and defiance of all chronological propriety, which belonged to the time and school. The composition by Albert Durer, in his series of the Life of the Virgin, has great beauty and simplicity of expression, and in the arrangement a degree of grandeur and repose which has caused it to be often copied and reproduced as a picture, though the original form is merely that of a wood-cut.[1] In the centre is a bedstead with a canopy, on which Mary lies fronting the spectator, her eyes half closed. On the left of the bed stands St. Peter, habited as a bishop: he places a taper in her dying hand; another apostle holds the asperge with which to sprinkle her with holy water: another reads the service. In the foreground is a priest bearing a cross, and another with incense; and on the right, the other apostles in attitudes of devotion and grief.

[Footnote 1: There is one such copy in the Sutherland Gallery; and another in the Munich Gallery, Cabinet viii. 161.]

Another picture by Albert Durer, once in the Fries Gallery, at Vienna, unites, in a most remarkable manner, all the legendary and supernatural incidents with the most intense and homely reality. It appears to have been painted for the Emperor Maximilian, as a tribute to the memory of his first wife, the interesting Maria of Burgundy. The disposition of the bed is the same as in the wood-cut, the foot towards the spectator. The face of the dying Virgin is that of the young duchess. On the right, her son, afterwards Philip of Spain, and father of Charles V., stands as the young St. John, and presents the taper; the other apostles are seen around, most of them praying; St. Peter, habited as bishop, reads from an open book (this is the portrait of George à Zlatkonia, bishop of Vienna, the friend and counsellor of Maximilian); behind him, as one of the apostles, Maximilian himself, with head bowed down, as in sorrow. Three ecclesiastics are seen entering by an open door, bearing the cross, the censer, and the holy water. Over the bed is seen the figure of Christ; in his arms, the soul of the Virgin, in likeness of an infant with clasped hands; and above all, in an open glory and like a vision, her reception and coronation in heaven. Upon a scroll over her head, are the words, "Surge propera, amica mea; veni de Libano, veni coronaberis." (Cant. iv. 8.) Three among the hovering angels bear scrolls, on one of which is inscribed the text from the Canticles, "Quæ est ista quæ progreditur quasi aurora consurgens, pulchra ut luna, electa ut sol, terribilis ut castrorum acies ordinata?" (Cant. vi. 10;) on another, "Quæ est ista quæ ascendit de deserto deliciis affluens super dilectum suum?" (Cant. viii. 5;) and on the third, "Quæ est ista quæ ascendit super dilectum suum ut virgula fumi?" (Cant. iii. 6.) This picture bears the date 1518. If it be true, as is, indeed, most apparent, that it was painted by order of Maximilian nearly forty years after the loss of the young wife he so tenderly loved, and only one year before his own death, there is something very touching in it as a memorial. The ingenious and tender compliment implied by making Mary of Burgundy the real object of those mystic texts consecrated to the glory of the MATER DEI, verges, perhaps, on the profane; but it was not so intended; it was merely that combination of the pious, and the poetical, and the sentimental, which was one of the characteristics of the time, in literature, as well as in art. (Heller's Albrecht Dürer p. 261.)

The picture by Jan Schoreel, one of the great ornaments of the Boisserée Gallery,[1] is remarkable for its intense reality and splendour of colour. The heads are full of character; that of the Virgin in particular, who seems, with half-closed eyes, in act to breathe away her soul in rapture. The altar near the bed, having on it figures of Moses and Aaron, is, however, a serious fault and incongruity in this fine painting.

[Footnote 1: Munich (70). The admirable lithograph by Strixner is well known.]

I must observe that Mary is not always dead or dying: she is sometimes preparing for death, in the act of prayer at the foot of her couch, with the apostles standing round, as in a very fine picture by Martin Schaffner, where she kneels with a lovely expression, sustained in the arms of St. John, while St. Peter holds the gospel open before her. (Munich Gal.) Sometimes she is sitting up in her bed, and reading from the Book of the Scripture, which is always held by St. Peter.

In a picture by Cola della Matrice, the Death of the Virgin is treated at once in a mystical and dramatic style. Enveloped in a dark blue mantle spangled with golden stars, she lies extended on a couch; St. Peter, in a splendid scarlet cope as bishop, reads the service; St. John, holding the palm, weeps bitterly. In front, and kneeling before the coach or bier, appear the three great Dominican saints as witnesses of the religious mystery; in the centre, St. Dominick; on the left, St. Catherine of Siena; and on the right, St. Thomas Aquinas. In a compartment above is the Assumption. (Rome, Capitol.)

* * * * *

Among the later Italian examples, where the old legendary accessories are generally omitted, there are some of peculiar elegance. One by Ludovico Caracci, another by Domenichino, and a third by Carlo Maratti, are treated, if not with much of poetry or religious sentiment, yet with great dignity and pathos.

I must mention one more, because of its history and celebrity: Caravaggio, of whom it was said that he always painted like a ruffian, because he was a ruffian, was also a genius in his way, and for a few months he became the fashion at Rome, and was even patronized by some of the higher ecclesiastics. He painted for the church of la Scala in Trastevere a picture of the Death of the Virgin, wonderful for the intense natural expression, and in the same degree grotesque from its impropriety. Mary, instead of being decently veiled, lies extended with long scattered hair; the strongly marked features and large proportions of the figure are those of a woman of the Trastevere.[1] The apostles stand around; one or two of them—I must use the word—blubber aloud: Peter thrusts his fists into his eyes to keep back the tears; a woman seated in front cries and sobs; nothing can be more real, nor more utterly vulgar. The ecclesiastics for whom the picture was executed were so scandalized, that they refused to hang it up in their church. It was purchased by the Duke of Mantua, and, with the rest of the Mantuan Gallery, came afterwards into the possession of our unfortunate Charles I. On the dispersion of his pictures, it found its way into the Louvre, where it now is. It has been often engraved.

[Footnote 1: The face has a swollen look, and it was said that his model had been a common woman whose features were swelled by intoxication. (Louvre, 32.)]

* * * * *

THE APOSTLES CARRY THE BODY OF THE VIRGIN TO THE TOMB. This is a very uncommon subject. There is a most beautiful example by Taddeo Bartoli (Siena, Pal. Publico), full of profound religious feeling. There is a small engraving by Bonasoni, in a series of the Life of the Virgin, apparently after Parmigiano, in which the apostles bear her on their shoulders over rocky ground, and appear to be descending into the Valley of Jehoshaphat: underneath are these lines:—

"Portan gli uomini santi in su le spalle
Al Sepolcro il corpo di Maria
Di Josaphat nella famosa valle."

There is another picture of this subject by Ludovico Caracci, at
Parma.

* * * * *

THE ENTOMBMENT. In the early pictures, there is little distinction between this subject and the Death of the Virgin. If the figure of Christ stand over the recumbent form, holding in his arms the emancipated soul, then it is the Transito—the death or sleep; but when a sarcophagus is in the centre of the picture, and the body lies extended above it on a sort of sheet or pall held by angels or apostles, it may be determined that it is the Entombment of the Virgin after her death. In a small and very beautiful picture by Angelico, we have distinctly this representation.[1] She lies, like one asleep, on a white pall, held reverently by the mourners. They prepare to lay her in a marble sarcophagus. St. John, bearing the starry palm, appears to address a man in a doctor's cap and gown, evidently intended for Dionysius the Areopagite. Above, in the sky, the soul of the Virgin, surrounded by most graceful angels, is received into heaven. This group is distinguished from the group below, by being painted in a dreamy bluish tint, like solidified light, or like a vision.

[Footnote 1: This picture, now in the possession of W. Fuller Maitland, Esq., was exhibited in the British Institution in the summer of 1852. It is engraved in the Etruria Pittrice.]

* * * * *

THE ASSUMPTION. The old painters distinguish between the Assumption of the soul and the Assumption of the body of the Virgin. In the first instance, at the moment the soul is separated from the body, Christ receives it into his keeping, standing in person either beside her death-bed or above it. But in the Assumption properly so called, we have the moment wherein the soul of the Virgin is reunited to her body, which, at the command of Christ, rises up from the tomb. Of all the themes of sacred art there is not one more complete and beautiful than this, in what it represents, and in what it suggests. Earth and its sorrows, death and the grave, are left below; and the pure spirit of the Mother again clothed in its unspotted tabernacle, surrounded by angelic harmonies, and sustained by wings of cherubim and seraphim, soars upwards to meet her Son, and to be reunited to him forever.

* * * * *

We must consider this fine subject under two aspects.

The first is purely ideal and devotional; it is simply the expression of a dogma of faith, "Assumpta est Maria Virgo in Coelum." The figure of the Virgin is seen within an almond-shaped aureole (the mandorla), not unfrequently crowned as well as veiled, her hands joined, her white robe falling round her feet (for in all the early pictures the dress of the Virgin is white, often spangled with stars), and thus she seems to cleave the air upwards, while adoring angels surround the glory of light within which she is enshrined. Such are the figures which are placed in sculpture over the portals of the churches dedicated to her, as at Florence.[1] She is not always standing and upright, but seated on a throne, placed within an aureole of light, and borne by angels, as over the door of the Campo Santo at Pisa. I am not sure that such figures are properly styled the Assumption; they rather exhibit in an ideal form the glorification of the Virgin, another version of the same idea expressed in the Incoronata. She is here Varia Virgo Assumpta, or, in Italian, L'Assunta; she has taken upon her the glory of immortality, though not yet crowned.

[Footnote 1: The "Santa Maria del Fiore,"—the Duomo.]

But when the Assumption is presented to us as the final scene of her life, and expresses, as it were, a progressive action—when she has left the empty tomb, and the wondering, weeping apostles on the earth below, and rises "like the morning" ("quasi aurora surgens") from the night of the grave,—then we have the Assumption of the Virgin in its dramatic and historical form, the final act and consummation of her visible and earthly life. As the Church had never settled in what manner she was translated into heaven, only pronouncing it heresy to doubt the fact itself, the field was in great measure left open to the artists. The tomb below, the figure of the Virgin floating in mid-air, and the opening heavens above, such is the general conception fixed by the traditions of art; but to give some idea of the manner in which this has been varied, I shall describe a few examples.

1. Giunta Pisano, 1230. (Assisi, S. Franceso.) Christ and the Virgin ascend together in a seated attitude upborne by clouds and surrounded by angels; his arm is round her. The empty tomb, with the apostles and others, below. The idea is here taken from the Canticles (ch. viii.), "Who is this that ariseth from the wilderness leaning upon her beloved?"

2. Andrea Orcagna, 1359. (Bas-relief, Or-San-Michele, Florence.) The Virgin Mary is seated on a rich throne within the Mandorla, which is borne upwards by four angels, while two are playing on musical instruments. Immediately below the Virgin, on the right, is the figure of St. Thomas, with hands outstretched, receiving the mystic girdle: below is the entombment; Mary lies extended on a pall above a sarcophagus. In the centre stands Christ, holding in his arms the emancipated soul; he is attended by eight angels. St. John is at the head of the Virgin, and near him an angel swings a censer; St. James bends and kisses her hand; St. Peter reads as usual; and the other apostles stand round, with Dionysius, Timothy, and Hierotheus, distinguished from the apostles by wearing turbans and caps. The whole most beautifully treated.

I have been minutely exact in describing the details of this composition, because it will be useful as a key to many others of the early Tuscan school, both in sculpture and painting; for example, the fine bas-relief by Nanni over the south door of the Duomo at Florence, represents St. Thomas in the same manner kneeling outside the aureole and receiving the girdle; but the entombment below is omitted. These sculptures were executed at the time when the enthusiasm for the Sacratissima Cintola della Madonna prevailed throughout the length and breadth of Tuscany, and Prato had become a place of pilgrimage.

This story of the Girdle was one of the legends imported from the East. It had certainly a Greek origin;[1] and, according to the Greek formula, St. Thomas is to be figured apart in the clouds, on the right of the Virgin, and in the act of receiving the girdle. Such is the approved arrangement till the end of the fourteenth century; afterwards we find St. Thomas placed below among the other apostles.

[Footnote 1: It may be found in the Greek Menologium, iii. p. 225]