St. Mary Magdalene.
Lat. Sancta Maria Magdalena. Ital. Santa Maria Maddalena. Fr. La Madeleine. La Sainte Demoiselle pécheresse. (July 22, A.D. 68.) Patroness of Provence, of Marseilles, and of frail and penitent women.
Of all the personages who figure in history, in poetry, in art, Mary Magdalene is at once the most unreal and the most real:—the most unreal, if we attempt to fix her identity, which has been a subject of dispute for ages; the most real, if we consider her as having been, for ages, recognised and accepted in every Christian heart as the impersonation of the penitent sinner absolved through faith and love. In this, her mythic character, she has been surrounded by associations which have become fixed in the imagination, and which no reasoning, no array of facts, can dispel. This is not the place to enter into disputed points of biblical criticism; they are quite beside our present purpose. Whether Mary Magdalene, ‘out of whom Jesus cast seven devils,’ Mary of Bethany, and the ‘woman who was a sinner,’ be, as some authorities assert, three distinct persons, or, as others affirm, one and the same individual under different designations, remains a question open to dispute, nothing having been demonstrated on either side, from Scripture or from tradition; and I cannot presume even to give an opinion where doctors—and doctors of the Church, too—disagree; Origen and St. Chrysostom taking one side of the question, St. Clement and St. Gregory the other. Fleury, after citing the opinions of both sides, thus beautifully sums up the whole question:—‘Il importe de ne pas croire témérairement ce que l’Évangile ne dit point, et de ne pas mettre la religion à suivre aveuglement toutes les opinions populaires: la foi est trop précieuse pour la prodiguer ainsi; mais la charité l’est encore plus; et ce qui est le plus important, c’est d’éviter les disputes qui peuvent l’altérer tant soit peu.’ And this is most true;—in his time the fast hold which the Magdalene had taken of the affections of the people was not to be shaken by theological researches and doubts. Here critical accuracy was nothing less than profanation and scepticism, and to have attacked the sanctity of the Blessed Mary Magdalene would have embittered and alienated many kindly and many believing spirits. It is difficult to treat of Mary Magdalene; and this difficulty would be increased infinitely if it were absolutely necessary to enter on the much-vexed question of her scriptural character and identity: one thing only appeals certain,—that such a person, whatever might have been her veritable appellation, did exist. The woman who, under the name of Mary Magdalene,—whether that name be rightfully or wrongfully bestowed,—stands before us, sanctified in the imagination and in the faith of the people in her combined character of Sinner and of Saint, as the first-fruits of Christian penitence,—is a reality, and not a fiction. Even if we would, we cannot do away with the associations inseparably connected with her name and her image. Of all those to whom much has been forgiven, she was the first: of all the tears since ruefully shed at the foot of the cross of suffering, hers were the first: of all the hopes which the Resurrection has since diffused through nations and generations of men, hers were the first. To her sorrowful image how many have looked up through tears, and blessed the pardoning grace of which she was the symbol—or rather the impersonation! Of the female saints, some were the chosen patrons of certain virtues—others of certain vocations; but the accepted and glorified penitent threw her mantle over all, and more especially over those of her own sex, who, having gone astray, were recalled from error and from shame, and laid down their wrongs, their sorrows, and their sins in trembling humility at the feet of the Redeemer.
Nor is it only the popularity of Mary Magdalene as the representative and the patroness of repentant sinners which has multiplied her image through all Christendom. As a subject for painting,
Whether the fair one sinner it or saint it,
it is rich in picturesque capabilities. It combines all that can inspire, with all that can chasten the fancy; yet, when we review what has been done, how inadequate the result! In no class of subjects have the mistakes of the painters, even the most distinguished, been so conspicuous as in the representation of the penitent Magdalene; and it must be allowed that, with all its advantages and attractions, it is a subject full of perils and difficulties. Where the penitent prevails, the saint appears degraded; where the wasted, unclad form is seen attenuated by vigils and exposed in haggard unseemliness, it is a violation of that first great rule of Art which forbids the repulsive and the painful. And herein lies the fault of the earlier schools, and particularly of the old Greek and German painters;—their matter-of-fact ugliness would be intolerable, if not redeemed by the intention and sentiment. On the other hand, where sensual beauty has obviously been the paramount idea in the artist’s work, defeating its holiest purpose and perverting its high significance, the violation of the moral sentiment is yet more revolting. This is especially the fault of the later painters, more particularly of the schools of Venice and Bologna: while the French painters are yet worse, adding affectation to licentiousness of sentiment; the Abbé Mèry exclaims with reasonable and pious indignation against that ‘air de galanterie’ which in his time was regarded as characteristic of Mary Magdalene. The ‘larmoyantes’ penitents of Greuze—Magdalenes à la Pompadour—are more objectionable to my taste than those of Rubens.
I shall give the legend of the Magdalene here as it was accepted by the people, and embodied by the arts, of the middle ages, setting aside those Eastern traditions which represent the Mary of Bethany and the Magdalene as distinct personages, and place the death and burial-place of Mary Magdalene at Ephesus. Our business is with the Western legend, which has been the authority for Western Art. This legend, besides attributing to one individual, and blending into one narrative, the very few scattered notices in the Gospels, has added some other incidents, inconceivably wild and incredible, leaving her, however, the invariable attributes of the frail loving woman, the sorrowing penitent, and the devout enthusiastic saint.
Mary Magdalene was of the district of Magdala, on the shores of the sea of Galilee, where stood her castle, called Magdalon; she was the sister of Lazarus and of Martha, and they were the children of parents reputed noble, or, as some say, of royal race. On the death of their father, Syrus, they inherited vast riches and possessions in land, which were equally divided between them. Lazarus betook himself to the military life; Martha ruled her possessions with great discretion, and was a model of virtue and propriety,— perhaps a little too much addicted to worldly cares: Mary, on the contrary, abandoned herself to luxurious pleasures, and became at length so notorious for her dissolute life, that she was known through all the country round only as ‘the Sinner.’ Her discreet sister, Martha, frequently rebuked her for these disorders, and at length persuaded her to listen to the exhortations of Jesus, through which her heart was touched and converted. The seven demons which possessed her, and which were expelled by the power of the Lord, were the seven deadly sins to which she was given over before her conversion. On one occasion Martha entertained the Saviour in her house, and, being anxious to feast him worthily, she was ‘cumbered with much serving.’ Mary, meanwhile, sat at the feet of Jesus, and heard his words, which completed the good work of her conversion; and when, some time afterwards, he supped in the house of Simon the Pharisee, she followed him thither, ‘and she brought an alabaster box of ointment, and began to wash his feet with tears, and did wipe them with the hair of her head, and kissed his feet, and anointed them with ointment; and He said unto her, Thy sins are forgiven.’ She became afterwards one of the most devoted of his followers; ‘ministered to him of her substance;’ attended him to Calvary, and stood weeping at the foot of the cross. She, with the other Mary, watched by his tomb, and was the first to whom he appeared after the resurrection; her unfaltering faith, mingled as it was with the intensest grief and love, obtained for her this peculiar mark of favour. It is assumed by several commentators that our Saviour appeared first to Mary Magdalene because she, of all those whom he had left on earth, had most need of consolation:—‘The disciples went away to their own home; but Mary stood without the sepulchre, weeping.’
Thus far the notices in the Gospel and the suggestions of commentators: the old Provençal legend then continues the story. After the ascension, Lazarus with his two sisters, Martha and Mary; with Maximin, one of the seventy-two disciples, from whom they had received baptism; Cedon, the blind man whom our Saviour had restored to sight; and Marcella, the handmaiden who attended on the two sisters, were by the heathens set adrift in a vessel without sails, oars, or rudder; but, guided by Providence, they were safely borne over the sea till they landed in a certain harbour which proved to be Marseilles, in the country now called France. The people of the land were pagans, and refused to give the holy pilgrims food or shelter; so they were fain to take refuge under the porch of a temple; and Mary Magdalene preached to the people, reproaching them for their senseless worship of dumb idols; and though at first they would not listen, yet being after a time convinced by her eloquence, and by the miracles performed by her and by her sister, they were converted and baptized. And Lazarus became, after the death of the good Maximin, the first bishop of Marseilles.
These things being accomplished, Mary Magdalene retired to a desert not far from the city. It was a frightful barren wilderness, in the midst of horrid rocks and caves: and here for thirty years she devoted herself to solitary penance for the sins of her past life, which she had never ceased to bewail bitterly. During this long seclusion, she was never seen or heard of, and it was supposed that she was dead. She fasted so rigorously, that but for the occasional visits of the angels, and the comfort bestowed by celestial visions, she must have perished. Every day during the last years of her penance, the angels came down from heaven and carried her up in their arms into regions where she was ravished by the sounds of unearthly harmony, and beheld the glory and the joy prepared for the sinner that repenteth. One day a certain hermit, who dwelt in a cell on one of those wild mountains, having wandered farther than usual from his home, beheld this wondrous vision—the Magdalene in the arms of ascending angels, who were singing songs of triumph as they bore her upwards; and the hermit, when he had a little recovered from his amazement, returned to the city of Marseilles, and reported what he had seen. According to some of the legends, Mary Magdalene died within the walls of the Christian church, after receiving the sacrament from the hand of St. Maximin; but the more popular accounts represent her as dying in her solitude, while angels watched over and ministered to her.
The middle of the thirteenth century was an era of religious excitement all over the south of Europe. A sudden fit of penitence—‘una subita compunzione,’ as an Italian author calls it—seized all hearts; relics and pilgrimages, and penances and monastic ordinances, filled all minds. About this period, certain remains, supposed to be those of Mary Magdalene and Lazarus, were discovered at a place since called St. Maximin, about twenty miles north of Toulon. The discovery strongly excited the devotion and enthusiasm of the people; and a church was founded on the spot by Charles, Count of Provence (the brother of St. Louis), as early as 1279. A few years afterwards, this prince was vanquished and taken prisoner by the king of Aragon, and when at length set free after a long captivity, he ascribed his deliverance particularly to the intercession of his chosen patroness, Mary Magdalene. This incident greatly extended her fame as a saint of power; and from this time we may date her popularity, and those sculptural and pictorial representations of her, under various aspects, which, from the fourteenth century to the present time, have so multiplied, that scarcely any Catholic place of worship is to be found without her image. In fact, it is difficult for us, in these days, to conceive, far more difficult to sympathise with, the passionate admiration and devotion with which she was regarded by her votaries in the middle ages. The imputed sinfulness of her life only brought her nearer to them. Those who did not dare to lift up their eyes to the more saintly models of purity and holiness,—to the martyrs who had suffered in the cause of chastity,—took courage to invoke her intercession. The extravagant titles bestowed upon her in the middle ages—‘l’amante de Jésus-Christ,’ ‘la bien-aimée du Sauveur,’ ‘la très-saincte demoiselle pécheresse,’—and others which I should hardly dare to transcribe, show the spirit in which she was worshipped, particularly in the south of France, and the kind of chivalrous sentiment which mingled with the devotion of her adorers. I found in an old French sermon a eulogium of Mary Magdalene, which for its eloquence and ingenuity seems to me without a parallel. The preacher, while acknowledging the excesses which brought her a penitent to the feet of Christ, is perfectly scandalised that she should be put on a par with common sinners of the same class, and that on the faith of a passage in St. Luke, ‘on a osé flétrir une des plus belles âmes qui soient jamais sorties des mains du Créateur!’ He rather glorifies her as a kind of Aspasia, to whom, indeed, he in a manner compares her.[297]
The traditional scene of the penance of the Magdalene, a wild spot between Toulon and Marseilles, is the site of a famous convent called La Sainte Beaume (which in the Provençal tongue signifies Holy Cave), formerly a much frequented place of pilgrimage. It is built on the verge of a formidable precipice; near it is the grotto in which the saint resided; and to Mount Pilon, a rocky point about six hundred feet above the grotto, the angels bore her seven times a day to pray. This convent was destroyed and pillaged at the commencement of the French Revolution. It was filled with relics and works of art, referring to the life and the worship of the Magdalene.
But the most sumptuous fane ever erected to her special honour is that which, of late years, has arisen in the city of Paris. The church, or rather the temple, of La Madeleine stands an excelling monument, if not of modern piety, at least of modern Art. It is built on the model of the temple of Jupiter at Athens:—
That noble type is realised again
In perfect form; and dedicate—to whom?
To a poor Syrian girl of lowliest name—
A hapless creature, pitiful and frail
As ever wore her life in sin and shame!
R. M. Milnes.
The saint, whether she were ‘the lowly Syrian girl’ or the ‘Princess of Magdala,’ would be equally astonished to behold herself thus honoured with a sort of pagan magnificence in the midst of a luxurious capital, and by a people more remarkable for scoffing than for praying. Even in the successive vicissitudes of this splendid edifice there is something strange. That which is now the temple of the lowly penitent was, a few years ago, Le Temple de la Gloire.
Let us now turn to those characteristic representations with which painting and sculpture have made us familiar, and for which both Scripture and legendary tradition have furnished the authority and the groundwork. These are so numerous and so infinitely varied that I find it necessary here, as in the case of St. Jerome, to arrange them under several heads.
The devotional representations may be divided into two classes. 1. Those which represent the Magdalene as patron saint. 2. Those which represent her penitence in the desert.
The historical subjects may also be divided into two classes. 1. Those scenes from Gospel story in which Mary Magdalene figures as a chief or conspicuous personage. 2. The scenes taken from her legendary life.
In all these subjects the accompanying attribute is the alabaster box of ointment; which has a double significance: it may be the perfume which she poured over the feet of the Saviour, or the balm and spices which she had prepared to anoint his body. Sometimes she carries it in her hand, sometimes it stands at her feet, or near her; frequently, in later pictures, it is borne by an attendant angel. The shape varies with the fancy of the artist; it is a small vase, a casket, a box, a cup with a cover; more or less ornamented, more or less graceful in form; but always there—the symbol at once of her conversion and her love, and so peculiar that it can leave no doubt of her identity.
Her drapery in the ancient pictures is usually red, to express the fervour of her love; in modern representations, and where she figures as penitent, it is either blue or violet; violet, the colour of mourning and penitence—blue, the colour of constancy. To express both the love and the sorrow, she sometimes wears a violet-coloured tunic and a red mantle. The luxuriant hair ought to be fair or golden. Dark-haired Magdalenes, as far as I can remember, belong exclusively to the Spanish school.
1. When exhibited to us as the patron saint of repentant sinners, Mary Magdalene is sometimes a thin wasted figure with long dishevelled hair, of a pale golden hue, falling over her shoulders almost to the ground; sometimes a skin or a piece of linen is tied round her loins, but not seldom her sole drapery is her long redundant hair. The most ancient single figure of this character to which I can refer is an old picture in the Byzantine manner, as old perhaps as the thirteenth century, and now in the Academy at Florence. She is standing as patroness, covered only by her long hair, which falls in dark brown masses to her feet: the colour, I imagine, was originally much lighter. She is a meagre, haggard, grim-looking figure, and holds in her hand a scroll, on which is inscribed in ancient Gothic letters—
Ne despectetis
Vos qui peccare soletis
Exemplo meo
Vos reparate Deo.[298]
Rude and unattractive as is this specimen of ancient Art, I could not look at it without thinking how often it must have spoken hope and peace to the soul of the trembling sinner, in days when it hung, not in a picture-gallery to be criticised, but in a shrine to be worshipped. Around this figure, in the manner of the old altar-pieces, are six small square compartments containing scenes from her life.
The famous statue carved in wood by Donatello, in point of character may be referred to this class of subjects: she stands over her altar in the Baptistery at Florence, with clasped hands, the head raised in prayer; the form is very expressive of wasting grief and penance, but too meagre for beauty. ‘Egli, la volle specchio alle penitenti, non incitamento alla cupidizia degli sguardi, come avenne ad altri artisti,’ says Cicognara; and, allowing that beauty has been sacrificed to expression, he adds, ‘but if Donatello had done all, what would have remained for Canova?’ That which remained for Canova to do, he has done; he has made her as lovely as possible, and he has dramatised the sentiment: she is more the penitent than the patron saint. The display of the beautiful limbs is chastened by the humility of the attitude—half kneeling, half prostrate; by the expression of the drooping head—‘all sorrow’s softness charmed from its despair.’ Her eyes are fixed on the cross which lies extended on her knees; and she weeps—not so much her own past sins, as the sacrifice it has cost to redeem them. This is the prevailing sentiment, or, as the Germans would call it, the motive of the representation, to which I should feel inclined to object as deficient in dignity and severity, and bordering too much on the genre and dramatic style: but the execution is almost faultless. Very beautiful is another modern statue of the penitent Magdalene, executed in marble for the Count d’Espagnac, by M. Henri de Triqueti. She is half seated, half reclining on a fragment of rock, and pressing to her bosom a crown of thorns, at once the mourner and the penitent: the sorrow is not for herself alone.
92 Mary Magdalene (Lucas v. Leyden)
But, in her character of patron saint, Mary Magdalene was not always represented with the squalid or pathetic attributes of humiliation and penance. She became idealised as a noble dignified creature bearing no traces of sin or of sorrow on her beautiful face; her luxuriant hair bound in tresses round her head; her drapery rich and ample; the vase of ointment in her hand or at her feet, or borne by an angel near her. Not unfrequently she is attired with the utmost magnificence, either in reference to her former state of worldly prosperity, or rather, perhaps, that with the older painters, particularly those of the German school, it was a common custom to clothe all the ideal figures of female saints in rich habits. In the fourteenth and fifteenth centuries such representations of the Magdalene are usual both in Italian and German Art. A beautiful instance may be seen in a picture by Signorelli, in the Cathedral of Orvieto, where she is standing in a landscape, her head uncovered, and the rich golden hair partly braided, partly flowing over her shoulders; she wears a magnificent tunic embroidered with gold, over it a flowing mantle descending to her feet; she holds the vase with her left hand, and points to it with her right. If it were not for the saintly aureole encircling her head, this figure, and others similar to it, might be mistaken for Pandora. See, for example, the famous print by Lucas v. Leyden, where she stands on clouds with an embroidered coif and flowing mantle, holding the vase in her left hand, and lifting the cover with her right (in the sketch it is reversed): and in the half-length by Leonardo, or one of his school. The want of a religious sentiment gives such figures a very heathen and Pandora look, so that the aureole alone fixes the identity. This is not the case with a noble Magdalene by Dennis Calvert, in the Manfrini Palace at Venice. She is standing in a fine bold landscape; one hand sustains her ample crimson drapery, the other holds her vase; her fair hair falls in masses over her shoulders, and she looks down on her worshippers with a serious dignified compassion. This is one of the finest pictures of the later Bologna school, finer and truer in sentiment than any of the Caracci and Guido Magdalenes.
In this her wholly divine and ideal character of saint and intercessor, Mary Magdalene is often most beautifully introduced as standing near the throne of the Virgin, or as grouped with other saints. In two of the most famous pictures in the world she is thus represented. In the St. Cecilia of Raphael, she stands on the left, St. Paul being on the right of the principal figure; they are here significant of the conversion of the man through power, of the woman through love, from a state of reprobation to a state of reconcilement and grace. St. Paul leans in deep meditation on his sword. Mary Magdalene is habited in ample drapery of blue and violet, which she sustains with one hand, and bears the vase in the other. She looks out of the picture with a benign countenance and a particularly graceful turn of the head. Raphael’s original design for this picture (engraved by Marc Antonio) is, however, preferable in the sentiment given to the Magdalene: she does not look out of the picture, but she looks up: she also hears the divine music which has ravished St. Cecilia. In the picture she is either unconscious or inattentive.
In the not less celebrated St. Jerome of Correggio she is on the left of the Madonna, bending down with an expression of the deepest adoration to kiss the feet of the infant Christ, while an angel behind holds up the vase of ointment: thus recalling to our minds, and shadowing forth in the most poetical manner, that memorable act of love and homage rendered at the feet of the Saviour. Parmigiano has represented her, in a Madonna picture, as standing on one side, and the prophet Isaiah on the other. Lord Ashburton has a fine picture by Correggio, in which we have the same ideal representation: she is here grouped with St. Peter, St. Margaret, and St. Leonardo.
There are two classes of subjects in which Mary Magdalene is richly habited, and which must be carefully distinguished; those above described, in which she figures as patron saint, and those which represent her before her conversion, as the votary of luxury and pleasure. In the same manner we must be careful to distinguish those figures of the penitent Magdalene which are wholly devotional in character and intention, and which have been described in the first class, from those which represent her in the act of doing penance, and which are rather dramatic and sentimental than devotional.
2. The penance of the Magdalene is a subject which has become, like the penance of St. Jerome, a symbol of Christian penitence, but still more endeared to the popular imagination by more affecting and attractive associations, and even more eminently picturesque,—so tempting to the artists, that by their own predilection for it they have assisted in making it universal. In the display of luxuriant female forms, shadowed (not hidden) by redundant fair hair, and flung in all the abandon of solitude, amid the depth of leafy recesses, or relieved by the dark umbrageous rocks; in the association of love and beauty with the symbols of death and sorrow and utter humiliation; the painters had ample scope, ample material, for the exercise of their imagination, and the display of their skill: and what has been the result? They have abused these capabilities even to licence; they have exhausted the resources of Art in the attempt to vary the delineation; and yet how seldom has the ideal of this most exquisite subject been—I will not say realised—but even approached? We have Magdalenes who look as if they never could have sinned, and others who look as if they never could have repented; we have Venetian Magdalenes with the air of courtesans, and Florentine Magdalenes with the air of Ariadnes; and Bolognese Magdalenes like sentimental Niobes; and French Magdalenes, moitié galantes, moitié dévotes; and Dutch Magdalenes, who wring their hands like repentant washerwomen. The Magdalenes of Rubens remind us of nothing so much as of the ‘unfortunate Miss Bailey;’ and the Magdalenes of Van Dyck are fine ladies who have turned Methodists. But Mary Magdalene, such as we have conceived her, mournful yet hopeful,—tender yet dignified,—worn with grief and fasting, yet radiant with the glow of love and faith, and clothed with the beauty of holiness,—is an ideal which painting has not yet realised. Is it beyond the reach of Art? We might have answered this question, had Raphael attempted it;—but he has not. His Magdalene at the feet of Christ is yet unforgiven—the forlorn castaway, not the devout penitent.
The Magdalene doing penance in her rocky desert first became a popular subject in the sixteenth century; in the seventeenth it was at the height of favour. There are two distinct versions of the subject, infinitely varied as to detail and sentiment: either she is represented as bewailing her sins, or as reconciled to Heaven.
In the former treatment she lies prostrate on the earth, or she is standing or kneeling at the entrance of the cave (in some of the old illuminated missals the upper part of her body is seen emerging from a cave, or rather a hole in the ground), the hands clasped, or extended towards heaven; the eyes streaming with tears; the long yellow hair floating over the shoulders. The crucifix, the skull, and sometimes the scourge, are introduced as emblems of faith, mortality, and penance; weeping angels present a crown of thorns.
In the latter treatment she is reading or meditating; the expression is serene or hopeful; a book lies beside the skull; angels present the palm, or scatter flowers; a vision of glory is seen in the skies.
The alabaster box is in all cases the indispensable attribute. The eyes are usually raised, if not in grief, in supplication or in aspiration. The ‘uplifted eye’ as well as the ‘loose hair’ became a characteristic; but there are some exceptions. The conception of character and situation, which was at first simple, became more and more picturesque, and at length theatrical—a mere vehicle for sentiment and attitude.
1. The earliest example I can remember of the Penitent Magdalene, dramatically treated, remains as yet unsurpassed,—the reading Magdalene of Correggio, in the Dresden Gallery. This lovely creation has only one fault the virginal beauty is that of a Psyche or a Seraph. In Oelenschläger’s drama of ‘Correggio,’ there is a beautiful description of this far-famed picture; he calls it ‘Die Gottinn des Waldes Frömmigkeit,’—the goddess of the religious solitude. And in truth, if we could imagine Diana reading instead of hunting, she might have looked thus. Oelenschläger has made poetical use of the tradition that Correggio painted this Magdalene for a poor monk who was his confessor or physician; and thus he makes Silvestro comment on the work:—
What a fair picture!—
This dark o’erhanging shade, the long fair hair,
The delicate white skin, the azure robe,
The full luxuriant life, the grim death’s head,
The tender womanhood, and the great book:—
These various contrasts have you cunningly
Brought into sweetest harmony.
But truer, at least nobler in sentiment, is the Magdalene by the same painter (in the Manfrini Palace, Venice), of the same size and similarly draped in dark blue; but here standing at the entrance of her cave. She leans her elbow on the book which lies on the rock, and appears to be meditating on its contents. The head, seen in front, is grand and earnest, with a mass of fair hair, a large wide brow, and deep, deep eyes full of mystery. The expression of power in this head pleases me especially, because true to the character, as I conceive it.
Doch ist es schön von einem Weibe, mein’ ich,
Einmal gefallen wieder sich zu heben;
Es gibt sehr wen’ge Männer, die das können!
Yes! it is good to see a hapless woman,
That once has fallen, redeem herself! In truth,
There be few men, methinks, could do as much.
Correggio, Act i. Scene 1.
I do not know why this lovely Manfrini picture should be so much less celebrated than the Dresden Magdalene: while the latter has been multiplied by copies and engravings, I do not remember a single print after the Manfrini Magdalene. There is a bad feeble copy in the Louvre;[299] I know no other.
2. There is a celebrated picture by Timoteo della Vite, in the Bologna Gallery. She is standing before the entrance of her cavern, arrayed in a crimson mantle; her long hair is seen beneath descending to her feet; the hands joined in prayer, the head declined on one side, and the whole expression that of girlish innocence and simplicity, with a touch of the pathetic. A mendicant, not a Magdalene, is the idea suggested; and, for myself, I confess that at the first glance I was reminded of the little Red-Riding-Hood, and could think of no sin that could have been attributed to such a face and figure, beyond the breaking of a pot of butter: yet the picture is very beautiful.
93 Mary Magdalene (Timoteo della Vite)
3. The Magdalene of Titian was so celebrated in his own time, that he painted at least five or six repetitions of it, and copies and engravings have since been multiplied. The eyes, swimming in tears, are raised to heaven; the long dishevelled hair floats over her shoulders; one hand is pressed on her bosom, the other rests on the skull; the forms are full and round, the colouring rich; a book and a box of ointment lie before her on a fragment of rock. She is sufficiently woeful, but seems rather to regret her past life than to repent of it, nor is there anything in the expression which can secure us against a relapse. Titian painted the original for Charles V. His idea of the pose was borrowed, as we are told, from an antique statue, and his model was a young girl, who being fatigued with long standing, the tears ran down her face, and Titian attained the desired expression.’(!) His idea therefore of St. Mary Magdalene was the fusion of an antique statue and a girl taken out of the streets; and with all its beauties as a work of art—and very beautiful it is—this chef-d’œuvre of Titian is, to my taste, most unsatisfactory.
4. Cigoli’s Magdalene is seated on a rock, veiled only by her long hair, which falls over the whole figure; the eyes, still wet with tears, are raised to heaven; one arm is round a skull, the right hand rests on a book which is on her knees.
5. The Magdalene of Carlo Cignani, veiled in her dishevelled hair, and wringing her hands, is also most affecting for the fervent expression of sorrow; both these are in the Florence Gallery.[300]
6. Guido, regarded as the painter of Magdalenes par excellence, has carried this mistake yet farther; he had ever the classical Niobe in his mind, and his saintly penitents, with all their exceeding loveliness, appear to me utterly devoid of that beauty which has been called ‘the beauty of holiness;’ the reproachful grandeur of the Niobe is diluted into voluptuous feebleness; the tearful face, with the loose golden hair and uplifted eyes, of which he has given us at least ten repetitions, however charming as art—as painting, are unsatisfactory as religious representations. I cannot except even the beautiful study in our National Gallery, nor the admired full-length in the Sciarra Palace, at Rome; the latter, when I saw it last, appeared to me poor and mannered, and the pale colouring not merely delicate, but vapid. A head of Mary Magdalene reading, apparently a study from life, is, however, in a grand style.[301]
7. Murillo’s Magdalene, in the Louvre, kneeling, with hands crossed on her bosom, eyes upraised, and parted lips, has eager devout hope as well as sorrow in the countenance. 8. But turn to the Magdalene of Alonzo Cano, which hangs near: drooping, negligent of self; the very hands are nerveless, languid, dead.[302] Nothing but woe, guilt, and misery are in the face and attitude: she has not yet looked into the face of Christ, nor sat at his feet, nor heard from his lips, ‘Woman, thy sins be forgiven thee,’ nor dared to hope; it is the penitent only: the whole head is faint, and the whole heart sick. 9. But the beautiful Magdalene of Annibal Caracci has heard the words of mercy; she has memories which are not of sin only; angelic visions have already come to her in that wild solitude: she is seated at the foot of a tree; she leans her cheek on her right hand, the other rests on a skull; she is in deep contemplation; but her thoughts are not of death: the upward ardent look is full of hope, and faith, and love. The fault of this beautiful little picture lies in the sacrifice of the truth of the situation to the artistic feeling of beauty—the common fault of the school; the forms are large, round, full, untouched by grief and penance.
95 Mary Magdalene (Annibal Caracci)
10. Vandyck’s Magdalenes have the same fault as his Madonnas; they are not feeble nor voluptuous, but they are too elegant and ladylike. I remember, for example, a Deposition by Vandyck, and one of his finest pictures, in which Mary Magdalene kisses the hand of the Saviour quite with the air of a princess. The most beautiful of his penitent Magdalenes is the half-length figure with the face in profile, bending with clasped hands over the crucifix; the skull and knotted scourge lie on a shelf of rock behind; underneath is the inscription, ‘Fallit gratia, et vana est pulchritudo; mulier timens Dominum ipsa laudabitur.’ (Prov. xxxi. 30.) 11. Rubens has given us thirteen Magdalenes, more or less coarse; in one picture[303] she is tearing her hair like a disappointed virago; in another, the expression of grief is overpowering, but it is that of a woman in the house of correction. From this sweeping condemnation I must make one exception; it is the picture known as ‘The Four Penitents.’[304] In front the Magdalene bows down her head on her clasped hands with such an expression of profound humility as Rubens only, when painting out of nature and his own heart, could give. Christ, with an air of tender yet sublime compassion, looks down upon her:—‘Thy sins be forgiven thee!’ Behind Christ and the Magdalene stand Peter, David, and Didymus, the penitent thief; the faces of these three, thrown into shadow to relieve the two principal figures, have a self-abased, mournful expression. I have never seen anything from the hand of Rubens at once so pure and pathetic in sentiment as this picture, while the force and truth of the painting are, as usual, wonderful. No one should judge Rubens who has not studied him in the Munich Gallery.
The Historical Subjects from the life of Mary Magdalene are either scriptural or legendary; and the character of the Magdalene, as conceived by the greatest painters, is more distinctly expressed in those scriptural scenes in which she is an important figure, than in the single and ideal representations. The illuminated Gospels of the ninth century furnish the oldest type of Mary, the penitent and the sister of Lazarus, but it differs from the modern conception of the Magdalene. She is in such subjects a secondary scriptural personage, one of the accessories in the history of Christ, and nothing more: no attempt was made to give her importance, either by beauty, or dignity, or prominence of place, till the end of the thirteenth century.
The sacred subjects in which she is introduced are the following:—
1. Jesus at supper with Simon the Pharisee.—‘And she began to wash his feet with tears, and did wipe them with the hair of her head, and kissed his feet, and anointed them with ointment.’ (Luke vii. 30.)
2. Christ is in the house of Martha and Mary.—‘And she sat at Jesus’ feet, and heard his words; but Martha was cumbered with much serving.’ (Luke x. 39, 40.)
3. The Raising of Lazarus.—‘Lord, if thou hadst been here, my brother had not died.’ (John xi. 32.)
4. The Crucifixion.—‘Now there stood by the cross Mary Magdalene.’ (John xix. 25; Matt. xxvii. 56.)
5. The Deposition from the Cross.—‘And Mary Magdalene, and the mother of Jesus, beheld where he was laid.’ (Mark xv. 47.)
6. The Maries at the Sepulchre.—‘And there was Mary Magdalene and the other Mary, sitting over against the sepulchre.’ (Matt. xxvii. 61.)
7. Christ appears to Mary Magdalene in the Garden, called the Noli me tangere.—‘Touch me not, for I am not yet ascended to my Father.’ (John xx. 17.)
In the first, second, and last of these subjects, the Magdalene is one of the two principal figures, and necessary to the action; in the others she is generally introduced, but in some instances omitted; and as all belong properly to the life of Christ, I shall confine myself now to a few remarks on the characteristic treatment of the Magdalene in each.
1. The supper with Simon has been represented in every variety of style. The earliest and simplest I can call to mind is the fresco of Taddeo Gaddi in the Rinuccini Chapel at Florence. The Magdalene bends down prostrate on the feet of the Saviour; she is in a red dress, and her long yellow hair flows down her back; the seven devils by which she was possessed are seen above, flying out of the roof of the house in the shape of little black monsters. Raphael, when treating the same subject, thought only of the religious significance of the action, and how to express it with the utmost force and the utmost simplicity. There are few figures—our Saviour, the Pharisee, four apostles, and two attendants: Mary Magdalene, in front, bends over the feet of Christ, while her long hair half conceals her face and almost sweeps the ground; nothing can exceed the tenderness and humility of the attitude and the benign dignity of Christ. As an example of the most opposite treatment, let us turn to the gorgeous composition of Paul Veronese; we have a stately banquet-room, rich architecture, a crowd of about thirty figures; and the Magdalene is merely a beautiful female with loose robes, dishevelled tresses, and the bosom displayed: this gross fault of sentiment is more conspicuous in the large picture in the Durazzo Palace at Genoa than in the beautiful finished sketch in the collection of Mr. Rogers.[305] A fine sketch by the same painter, but quite different, is at Alton Towers. The composition of Rubens, of which a very fine sketch is in the Windsor collection, is exceedingly dramatic: the dignity of Christ and the veneration and humility of the Magdalene are admirably expressed; but the disdainful surprise of some of the assistants, and the open mockery of others,—the old man in spectacles peering over to convince himself of the truth,—disturb the solemnity of the feeling: and this fault is even more apparent in the composition of Philippe de Champagne, where a young man puts up his finger with no equivocal expression. In these two examples the moment chosen is not ‘Thy sins are forgiven thee,’ but the scepticism of the Pharisee becomes the leading idea: ‘This man, if he were a prophet, would have known who and what manner of woman this is.’
2. Christ in the house of Martha and Mary. Of this beautiful subject I have never seen a satisfactory version; in the fresco by Taddeo Gaddi in the Rinuccini Chapel the subject becomes legendary rather than scriptural. Mary Magdalene is seated at the feet of Christ in an attitude of attention; Martha seems to expostulate; three of the disciples are behind; a little out of the principal group, St. Marcella, also with a glory round her head, is seen cooking. At Hampton Court there is a curious picture of this subject by Hans Vries, which is an elaborate study of architecture: the rich decoration of the interior has been criticised; but, according to the legend, Martha and Mary lived in great splendour; and there is no impropriety in representing their dwelling as a palace, but a very great impropriety in rendering the decorations of the palace more important than the personages of the scene. In a picture by Old Bassano, Christ is seen entering the house; Mary Magdalene goes forward to meet him; Martha points to the table where Lazarus sits composedly cutting a slice of sausage, and in the corner St. Marcella is cooking at a fire. In a picture by Rubens, the treatment is similar. The holy sisters are like two Flemish farm servants, and Christ—but I dare not proceed:—in both these instances, the colouring, the expression, the painting of the accessories—the vegetables and fruit, the materials and implements for cooking a feast—are as animated and true to nature as the conception of the whole scene is trivial, vulgar, and, to a just taste, intolerably profane.
One of the most modern compositions of this scene which has attracted attention is that of Overbeck, very simple and poetical, but deficient in individual expression.
3. The raising of Lazarus was selected by the early Christians as an emblem, both of the general resurrection, and the resurrection of our Saviour, at a time that the resurrection of the Saviour in person was considered a subject much too solemn and mysterious to be dealt with by the imitative arts. In its primitive signification, as the received emblem of the resurrection of the dead, we find this subject abounding in the catacombs, and on the sarcophagi of the third and fourth centuries. The usual manner of representation shows the dead man swathed like a mummy, under the porch of a temple resembling a tomb, to which there is an ascent by a flight of steps. Christ stands before him, and touches him with a wand. Sometimes there are two figures only, but in general Mary Magdalene is kneeling by. There is one instance only in which Christ stands surrounded by the apostles, and the two sisters are kneeling at his feet:—‘Lord, hadst thou been here, my brother had not died.’[306]
In more modern Art this subject loses its mystic signification, and becomes simply a scriptural incident. It is treated like a scene in a drama, and the painters have done their utmost to vary the treatment. But, however varied as regards the style of conception and the number of personages, Martha and Mary are always present, and, in general, Mary is at the feet of our Saviour. The incident is of course one of the most important in the life of Christ, and is never omitted in the series, nor yet in the miracles of our Saviour. But, from the beginning of the fourteenth century, it forms one of the scenes of the story of Mary Magdalene. The fresco of Giovanni da Milano at Assisi contains thirteen figures, and the two sisters kneeling at the feet of Christ have a grand and solemn simplicity; but Mary is not here in any respect distinguished from Martha, and both are attired in red.
In the picture in our National Gallery, the kneeling figure of Mary looking up in the face of Jesus, with her grand severe beauty and earnest expression, is magnificent: but here, again, Mary of Bethany is not Mary Magdalene, nor the woman ‘who was a sinner;’ and I doubt whether Michael Angelo intended to represent her as such. On the other hand, the Caracci, Rubens, and the later painters are careful to point out the supposed identity, by the long fair hair, exposed and dishevelled, the superior beauty and the superior prominence and importance of the figure, while Martha stands by, veiled, and as a secondary personage.
4. In the Crucifixion, where more than the three figures (the Redeemer, the Virgin, and St. John) are introduced, the Magdalene is almost always at the foot of the cross, and it is said that Giotto gave the first example. Sometimes she is embracing the cross, and looking up with all the abandonment of despairing grief, which is more picturesque than true in sentiment; finer in feeling is the expression of serene hope tempering the grief. In Rubens’ famous ‘Crucifixion’ at Antwerp, she has her arms round the cross, and is gazing at the executioner with a look of horror: this is very dramatic and striking, but the attention of the penitent ought to be fixed on the dying Saviour, to the exclusion of every other thought or object. In Vandyck’s ‘Crucifixion,’ the face of the Magdalene seen in front is exquisite for its pathetic beauty. Sometimes the Virgin is fainting in her arms. The box of ointment is frequently placed near, to distinguish her from the other Maries present.
5. In the Descent or Deposition from the Cross, and in the Entombment, Mary Magdalene is generally conspicuous. She is often supporting the feet or one of the hands of the Saviour; or she stands by weeping; or she sustains the Virgin; or (which is very usual in the earlier pictures) she is seen lamenting aloud, with her long tresses disordered, and her arms outspread in an ecstasy of grief and passion; or she bends down to embrace the feet of the Saviour, or to kiss his hand; or contemplates with a mournful look one of the nails, or the crown of thorns, which she holds in her hand.
In the Pietà, of Fra Bartolomeo, in the Pitti Palace, the prostrate abandonment in the figure of the Magdalene, pressing the feet of Christ to her bosom, is full of pathetic expression; in the same gallery is the Pietà by Andrea del Sarto, where the Magdalene, kneeling, wrings her hands in mute sorrow. But in this, as in other instances, Raphael has shown himself supreme: there is a wonderful little drawing by him, in which Nicodemus and others sustain the body of the Saviour, while Mary Magdalene lies prostrate bending her head over his feet, which she embraces; the face is wholly concealed by the flowing hair, but never was the expression of overwhelming love and sorrow conveyed with such artless truth.
6. The Maries at the Sepulchre. The women who carry the spices and perfumes to the tomb of Jesus are called, in Greek Art, the Myrrhophores, or myrrh-bearers: with us there are usually three, Mary Magdalene, Mary the mother of James and John, and Mary Salome. In Matthew, two women are mentioned; in Mark, three; in Luke, the number is indefinite; and in John, only one is mentioned, Mary Magdalene. There is scarcely a more beautiful subject in the whole circle of Scripture story than this of the three desolate affectionate women standing before the tomb in the grey dawn, while the majestic angels are seen guarding the hallowed spot. I give, as one of the earliest examples, a sketch from the composition of Duccio: the rules of perspective were then unknown,—but what a beautiful simplicity in the group of women! how fine the seated angel!—‘The angel of the Lord descended from heaven, and came and rolled back the stone from the door and sat upon it.’ I have seen one instance, and only one, in which the angel is in the act of descending; in general, the version according to St. John is followed, and the ‘two men in shining garments’ are seated within the tomb. There is a famous engraving, after a design by Michael Angelo, called ‘The three Maries going to the Sepulchre:’ it represents three old women veiled, and with their backs turned—very awful; but they might as well be called the three Fates, or the three Witches, as the three Maries. The subject has never been more happily treated than by Philip Veit, a modern German artist, in a print which has become popular; he has followed the version of Matthew: ‘As it began to dawn, came Mary Magdalene and the other Mary to see the sepulchre.’ The attitude of motionless sorrow; the anxious expectant looks, fixed on the tomb; the deep shadowy stillness; the morning light just breaking in the distance, are very truly and feelingly expressed.
7. The ‘Noli me tangere’ is the subject of many pictures; they do not vary in the simplicity of the motif, which is fixed by tradition, and admits but of two persons. The composition of Duccio, as one of the series of the Passion of Christ, is extremely grand; and the figure of Mary, leaning forward as she kneels, with outstretched hands, full of expression. The old fresco of Taddeo Gaddi, in the Rinuccini Chapel,[307] is also exquisite. Two of the finest in conception and treatment are, notwithstanding, in striking contrast to each other. One is the Titian in the collection of Mr. Rogers:[308] the Magdalene, kneeling, bends forward with eager expression, and one hand extended to touch him: the Saviour, drawing his linen garment round him, shrinks back from her touch—yet with the softest expression of pity. Besides the beauty and truth of the expression, this picture is transcendent as a piece of colour and effect; while the rich landscape and the approach of morning over the blue distance are conceived with a sublime simplicity. Not less a miracle of Art, not less poetical, but in a far different style, is the Rembrandt in the Queen’s Gallery: at the entrance of the sepulchre the Saviour is seen in the habiliments of a gardener, and Mary Magdalene at his feet, adoring. This picture exhibits, in a striking degree, all the wild originality and peculiar feeling of Rembrandt: the forms and characters are common; but the deep shadow of the cavern tomb, the dimly-seen supernatural beings within it, the breaking of the dawn over the distant city, are awfully sublime, and worthy of the mysterious scene. Barroccio’s great altar-piece, which came to England with the Duke of Lucca’s pictures, once so famous, and well known from the fine engraving of Raphael Morghen, is poor compared with any of these: Christ is effeminate and commonplace,—Mary Magdalene all in a flutter.
I now leave these scriptural incidents, to be more fully considered hereafter, and proceed to the fourth class of subjects pertaining to the life of the Magdalene—those which are taken from the wild Provençal legends of the thirteenth and fourteenth centuries.
1. ‘La Danse de la Madeleine’ is the title given to a very rare and beautiful print by Lucas v. Leyden. It represents Mary Magdalene abandoned to the pleasures of the world. The scene is a smiling and varied landscape; in the centre Mary Magdalene, with the anticipative glory round her head, is seen dancing along to the sound of a flute and tabor, while a man in a rich dress leads her by the hand: several groups of men and women are diverting themselves in the foreground; in the background, Mary Magdalene, with a number of gay companions, is chasing the stag; she is mounted on horseback, and has again the glory round her head: far in the distance she is seen borne upwards by the angels. This singular and suggestive composition is dated 1519. There is a fine impression in the British Museum.
2. ‘Mary Magdalene rebuked by her sister Martha for her vanity and luxury.’ I believe I am the first to suggest that the famous picture in the Sciarra Palace, by Leonardo da Vinci, known as ‘Modesty and Vanity,’ is a version of this subject. When I saw it, this idea was suggested, and no other filled my mind. The subject is one often treated, and here treated in Leonardo’s peculiar manner. The attitude of the veiled figure is distinctly that of remonstrance and rebuke; the other, decked and smiling, looks out of the picture holding flowers in her hand, as yet unconvinced, unconverted: the vase of ointment stands near her. In other pictures there is no doubt as to the significance of the subject; it has been gracefully treated in a picture by Giovanni Lopicino, now in the gallery of the Belvedere at Vienna. She is seated at her toilette; her maid is binding her luxuriant hair; Martha, standing by, appears to be remonstrating with great fervour. There is a pretty picture by Elisabetta Sirani of the same scene, similarly treated.
3. ‘Mary Magdalene conducted by her sister Martha to the feet of Jesus.’ Of this most beautiful subject, I know but one composition of distinguished merit. It is by Raphael, and exists only in the drawing, and the rare engraving by Marc Antonio. Christ sits within the porch of the Temple, teaching four of his disciples who stand near him. Martha and Mary are seen ascending the steps which lead to the portico: Martha, who is veiled, seems to encourage her sister, who looks down. I observe that Passavant and others are uncertain as to the subject of this charming design: it has been styled ‘The Virgin Mary presenting the Magdalene to Christ;’ but with any one who has carefully considered the legend, there can be no doubt as to the intention of the artist. ‘Mary Magdalene listening to the preaching of our Saviour, with Martha seated by her side,’ is one of the subjects in the series by Gaudenzio Ferrari at Vercelli: it is partly destroyed. We have the same subject by F. Zucchero; Mary, in a rich dress, is kneeling at the feet of the Saviour, who is seated under a portico; Martha, veiled, stands near her, and there are numerous spectators and accessories.
4. ‘The Magdalene renouncing the Vanities of the World’ is also a very attractive subject. In a picture by Guido she has partly divested herself of her rich ornaments, and is taking some pearls from her hair, while she looks up to heaven with tearful eyes. In a sketch by Rubens, in the Dulwich Gallery, she is seated in a forest solitude, still arrayed in her worldly finery, blue satin, pearls, &c., and wringing her hands with an expression of the bitterest grief. The treatment, as usual with him, is coarse, but effective. In his large picture at Vienna, with the figures life-size, Mary is spurning with her feet a casket of jewels, and throwing herself back with her hands clasped in an agony of penitence: while Martha sits behind, gazing on her with an expression so demurely triumphant as to be almost comic. There is an exquisite little picture by Gerard Douw in the Berlin Gallery, in which the Magdalene, in a magnificent robe of crimson and sables, is looking up to heaven with an expression of sorrow and penitence; the table before her is covered with gold and jewels. ‘Mary Magdalene renouncing the World,’ by Le Brun, is a famous picture, now in the Louvre. She looks up to heaven with tearful eyes, and is in the act of tearing off a rich mantle; a casket of jewels lies overturned at her feet. This picture is said to be the portrait of Madame de la Vallière, by whose order it was painted for the church of the Carmelites at Paris, where she had taken refuge from the court and from the world. It has that sort of theatrical grace and grandeur, that mannered mediocrity, characteristic of the painter and the time.[309] There is a Magdalene in the Gallery at Munich by Le Brun, which is to me far preferable; and this, and not the Paris one, I presume to be the portrait of the Duchesse de la Vallière. In a picture by Franceschini she has flung off her worldly ornaments, which lie scattered on the ground, and holds a scourge in her hand, with which she appears to have castigated herself: she sinks in the arms of one of her attendant maidens, while Martha, standing by, seems to speak of peace, and points towards heaven: the figures are life-size.[310] None of these pictures, with the exception of the precious Leonardo in the Sciarra Palace, have any remarkable merit as pictures. The scenes between Mary and Martha are capable of the most dramatic and effective illustration, but have never yet been worthily treated.
5. ‘The embarkation of the Magdalene in Palestine, with Martha, Lazarus, and the others, cast forth by their enemies in a vessel without sails or rudder, but miraculously conducted by an angel,’ is another subject of which I have seen no adequate representation. There is a mediocre picture by Curradi in the Florence Gallery. Among the beautiful frescoes of Gaudenzio Ferrari in the Church of St. Cristoforo at Vercelli, is the voyage of the Magdalene and her companions, and their disembarkation at Marseilles.[311]
6. ‘Mary Magdalene preaching to the inhabitants of Marseilles’ has been several times represented in the sculpture and stained glass of the old cathedrals in the south of France. In the Hôtel de Cluny there is a curious old picture in distemper attributed to King René of Provence, the father of our Margaret of Anjou, and famous for his skill as a limner. Mary Magdalene is standing on some steps, arrayed in loose white drapery, and a veil over her head. She is addressing earnestly a crowd of listeners, and among them we see King René and his wife Jeanne de Laval on thrones with crown and sceptre:—a trifling anachronism of about 1400 years, but it may be taken in a poetical and allegorical sense. The port of Marseilles is seen in the background. The same subject has been classically treated in a series of bas-reliefs in the porch of the Certosa at Pavia: there is a mistake, however, in exhibiting her as half naked, clothed only in a skin, and her long hair flowing down over her person: for she was at this time the missionary saint, and not yet the penitent of the desert.
96 The Assumption of the Magdalene (Albert Dürer)
7. ‘Mary Magdalene borne by angels above the summit of Mount Pilon,’ called also ‘The Assumption of the Magdalene,’ is a charming subject when treated in the right spirit. Unfortunately, we are oftener reminded of a Pandora, sustained by a group of Cupids, or a Venus rising out of the sea, than of the ecstatic trance of the reconciled penitent. It was very early a popular theme. In the treatment we find little variety. She is seen carried upwards very slightly draped, and often with no other veil than her redundant hair, flowing over her whole person. She is in the arms of four, five, or six angels. Sometimes one of the angels bears the alabaster box of ointment; far below is a wild mountainous landscape, with a hermit looking up at the vision, as it is related in the legend. The illustration is from a fine woodcut of Albert Dürer (96).
In a hymn to the Magdalene, by an old Provençal poet (Balthazar de la Burle) there is a passage describing her ascent in the arms of angels, which, from its vivid graphic naïveté, is worthy of being placed under this print of Albert Dürer:—
Ravengat lou jour los anges la portavan
Ben plus hault que lou roc.
Jamais per mauvais temps que fessa ne freddura,
Autre abit non avia que la sien cabellura,
Que como un mantel d’or tant eram bels e blonds
La couvria de la testa fin al bas des talons.
The fresco by Giulio Romano, in which she is reclining amid clouds, and sustained by six angels, while her head is raised and her arms extended with the most ecstatic expression, was cut from the walls of a chapel in the Trinità di Monte, at Rome, and is now in our National Gallery.
One of the finest pictures ever painted by Ribera is the Assumption of the Magdalene in the Louvre, both for beauty of expression and colour. She is here draped, and her drapery well managed. The Spanish painters never fell into the mistake of the Italians; they give us no Magdalenes which recall the idea of a Venus Meretrix. The rules of the Inquisition were here absolute, and held the painters in wholesome check, rendering such irreligious innovations inadmissible and unknown. In the Turin Gallery there is an Assumption of the Magdalene by Dennis Calvert, admirably painted, in which she is carried up by four Apollo-like angels, who, with their outstretched arms, form a sort of throne on which she is seated: she is herself most lovely, draped in the thin undress of a Venus; and the whole composition, at first view, brought to my fancy the idea of a Venus rising from the sea, throned in her shell and sustained by nymphs and cupids.
In general, the early painters, Albert Dürer, Vivarini, Lorenzo di Credi, Benedetto Montagna, represent her in an upright position, with hands folded in prayer, or crossed over her bosom, and thus soaring upwards, without effort of will or apparent consciousness; while the painters of the seventeenth century (with whom this was a favourite subject) strained their imagination to render the form and attitude voluptuously graceful, and to vary the action of the attendant angels, until, in one or two instances, the representation became at once absurdly prosaic and offensively theatrical. F. Zucchero, Cambiasi, Lanfranco, Carlo Maratti, have all given us versions of this subject in a florid, mannered style.
Over the high altar of the Madeleine, at Paris, is the same subject in a marble group, by Marochetti, rather above life-size. Two angels bear her up, while on each side an archangel kneels in adoration.
8. The Last Communion of the Magdalene is represented in two different ways, according to the two different versions of the story: in the first, she expires in her cave, and angels administer the last sacraments; one holds a taper, another presents the cup, a third the wafer. This has been painted by Domenichino. In the other version, she receives the sacrament from the hand of St. Maximin, who wears the episcopal robes, and the Magdalene kneels before him, half-naked, emaciated, and sustained by angels: the scene is the porch of a church.
9. The Magdalene dying in the Wilderness, extended on the bare earth, and pressing the crucifix to her bosom, is a frequent subject in the seventeenth century. One of the finest examples is the picture of Rustichino in the Florence Gallery. The well-known ‘Dying Magdalene’ of Canova has the same merits and defects as his Penitent Magdalene.
I saw a picture at Bologna by Tiarini, of which the conception appeared to me very striking and poetical. The Virgin, ‘La Madre Addolorata,’ is seated, and holds in her hand the crown of thorns, which she contemplates with a mournful expression; at a little distance kneels Mary Magdalene with long dishevelled hair, in all the abandonment of grief. St. John stands behind, with his hands clasped, and his eyes raised to heaven.
When the Magdalene is introduced into pictures of the ‘Incredulity of Thomas,’ it is in allusion to a famous parallel in one of the Fathers, in which it is insisted, ‘that the faith of Mary Magdalene, and the doubts of Thomas, were equally serviceable to the cause of Christ.’
Among the many miracles imputed to the Magdalene, one only has become popular as a subject of Art. Besides being extremely naïve and poetical, it is extremely curious as illustrating the manners of the time. It was probably fabricated in the fourteenth century, and intended as a kind of parable, to show that those who trusted in Mary Magdalene, and invoked her aid, might in all cases reckon upon her powerful intercession. It is thus related:—
‘Soon after Mary Magdalene landed in Provence, a certain prince of that country arrived in the city of Marseilles with his wife, for the purpose of sacrificing to the gods; but they were dissuaded from doing so by the preaching of Mary Magdalene: and the prince one day said to the saint, “We greatly desire to have a son. Canst thou obtain for us that grace from the God whom thou preachest?” And the Magdalene replied, “If thy prayer be granted, wilt thou then believe?” And he answered, “Yes, I will believe.” But shortly afterwards, as he still doubted, he resolved to sail to Jerusalem to visit St. Peter, and to find out whether his preaching agreed with that of Mary Magdalene. His wife resolved to accompany him: but the husband said, “How shall that be possible, seeing that thou art with child, and the dangers of the sea are very great?” But she insisted, and, throwing herself at his feet, she obtained her desire. Then, having laden a vessel with all that was necessary, they set sail; and when a day and a night were come and gone, there arose a terrible storm. The poor woman was seized prematurely with the pains of childbirth; in the midst of the tempest she brought forth her first-born son, and then died. The miserable father, seeing his wife dead, and his child deprived of its natural solace, and crying for food, wrung his hands in despair, and knew not what to do. And the sailors said, “Let us throw this dead body into the sea, for as long as it remains on board the tempest will not abate.” But the prince, by his entreaties, and by giving them money, restrained them for a while. Just then, for so it pleased God, they arrived at a rocky island, and the prince laid the body of his wife on the shore, and, taking the infant in his arms, he wept greatly, and said, “O Mary Magdalene! to my grief and sorrow didst thou come to Marseilles! Why didst thou ask thy God to give me a son only that I might lose both son and wife together? O Mary Magdalene! have pity on my grief, and, if thy prayers may avail, save at least the life of my child!” Then he laid down the infant on the bosom of the mother, and covered them both with his cloak, and went on his way, weeping. And when the prince and his attendants had arrived at Jerusalem, St. Peter showed him all the places where our Saviour had performed his miracles, and the hill on which he had been crucified, and the spot from whence he had ascended into heaven. Having been instructed in the faith by St. Peter, at the end of two years the prince embarked to return to his own country, and passing near to the island in which he had left his wife, he landed in order to weep upon her grave.
‘Now, wonderful to relate!—his infant child had been preserved alive by the prayers of the blessed Mary Magdalene; and he was accustomed to run about on the sands of the sea-shore, to gather up pebbles and shells; and when the child, who had never beheld a man, perceived the strangers, he was afraid, and ran and hid himself under the cloak which covered his dead mother; and the father, and all who were with him, were filled with astonishment; but their surprise was still greater when the woman opened her eyes, and stretched out her arms to her husband. Then they offered up thanks, and all returned together to Marseilles, where they fell at the feet of Mary Magdalene, and received baptism. From that time forth, all the people of Marseilles and the surrounding country became Christians.’
The picturesque capabilities of this extravagant but beautiful legend will immediately suggest themselves to the fancy;—the wild sea-shore —the lovely naked infant wandering on the beach—the mother, slumbering the sleep of death, covered with the mysterious drapery—the arrival of the mariners—what opportunity for scenery and grouping, colour and expression! It was popular in the Giotto school, which arose and flourished just about the period when the enthusiasm for Mary Magdalene was at its height; but later painters have avoided it, or, rather, it was not sufficiently accredited for a Church legend; and I have met with no example later than the end of the fourteenth century.
The old fresco of Taddeo Gaddi in the S. Croce at Florence will give some idea of the manner in which the subject was usually treated. In the foreground is a space representing an island; water flowing round it, the water being indicated by many strange fishes. On the island a woman lies extended with her hands crossed upon her bosom; an infant lifts up the mantle, and seems to show her to a man bending over her; the father on his knees, with hands joined, looks devoutly up to heaven; four others stand behind expressing astonishment or fixed attention. In the distance is a ship, in which sits a man with a long white beard, in red drapery; beside him another in dark drapery: beyond is a view of a port with a lighthouse, intended, I presume, for Marseilles. The story is here told in a sort of Chinese manner as regards the drawing, composition, and perspective; but the figures and heads are expressive and significant.
In the Chapel of the Magdalene at Assisi, the same subject is given with some variation. The bark containing the pilgrims is guided by an angel, and the infant is seated by the head of the mother, as if watching her.
The life of Mary Magdalene in a series of subjects, mingling the scriptural and legendary incidents, may often be found in the old French and Italian churches, more especially in the chapels dedicated to her: and I should think that among the remains of ancient painting now in course of discovery in our own sacred edifices they cannot fail to occur.[312] In the mural frescoes, in the altar-pieces, the stained glass, and the sculpture of the fourteenth and fifteenth centuries, such a series perpetually presents itself; and, well or ill executed, will in general be found to comprise the following scenes:—
1. Her conversion at the feet of the Saviour. 2. Christ entertained in the house of Martha: Mary sits at his feet to hear his words. 3. The raising of Lazarus. 4. Mary Magdalene and her companions embark in a vessel without sails, oars, or rudder. 6. Steered by an angel, they land at Marseilles. 6. Mary Magdalene preaches to the people. 7. The miracle of the mother and child. 8. The penance of the Magdalene in a desert cave. 9. She is carried up in the arms of angels. 10. She receives the sacraments from the hands of an angel or from St. Maximin. 11. She dies, and angels bear her spirit to heaven.[313]
The subjects vary of course in number and in treatment, but, with some attention to the foregoing legend, they will easily be understood and discriminated. Such a series was painted by Giotto in the Chapel of the Bargello at Florence (where the portrait of Dante was lately discovered), but they are nearly obliterated; the miracle of the mother and child is, however, to be distinguished on the left near the entrance. The treatment of the whole has been imitated by Taddeo Gaddi in the Rinuccini Chapel at Florence, and by Giovanni da Milano and Giottino in the Chapel of the Magdalene at Assisi; on the windows of the Cathedrals of Chartres and Bourges; and in a series of bas-reliefs round the porch of the Certosa of Pavia, executed in the classical style of the sixteenth century.
On reviewing generally the infinite variety which has been given to these favourite subjects, the life and penance of the Magdalene, I must end where I began; in how few instances has the result been satisfactory to mind or heart, or soul or sense! Many have well represented the particular situation, the appropriate sentiment, the sorrow, the hope, the devotion: but who has given us the character? A noble creature, with strong sympathies, and a strong will, with powerful faculties of every kind, working for good or evil such a woman Mary Magdalene must have been, even in her humiliation; and the feeble, girlish, commonplace, and even vulgar women who appear to have been usually selected as models by the artists, turned into Magdalenes by throwing up their eyes and letting down their hair, ill represent the enthusiastic convert or the majestic patroness.
I must not quit the subject of the Magdalene without some allusion to those wild legends which suppose a tender attachment (but of course wholly pure and Platonic) to have existed between her and St. John the Evangelist.[314] In the enthusiasm which Mary Magdalene excited in the thirteenth century, no supposition that tended to exalt her was deemed too extravagant: some of her panegyrists go so far as to insist that the marriage at Cana, which our Saviour and his mother honoured by their presence, was the marriage of St. John with the Magdalene; and that Christ repaired to the wedding-feast on purpose to prevent the accomplishment of the marriage, having destined both to a state of greater perfection. This fable was never accepted by the Church; and among the works of art consecrated to religious purposes I have never met with any which placed St. John and the Magdalene in particular relation to each other, except when they are seen together at the foot of the cross, or lamenting with the Virgin over the body of the Saviour: but such was the popularity of these extraordinary legends towards the end of the thirteenth and in the beginning of the fourteenth century, that I think it possible such may exist, and, for want of this key, may appear hopelessly enigmatical.
Martha presents her sister Mary to our Lord.
In a series of eight subjects which exhibit the life of St. John prefixed to a copy of the Revelation,[315] there is one which I think admits of this interpretation. The scene is the interior of a splendid building sustained by pillars. St. John is baptizing a beautiful woman, who is sitting in a tub; she has long golden hair. On the outside of the building seven men are endeavouring to see what is going forward: one peeps through the key-hole; one has thrown himself flat on the ground, and has his eye to an aperture; a third, mounted on the shoulders of another, is trying to look in at a window; a fifth, who cannot get near enough, tears his hair in an agony of impatience; and another is bawling into the ear of a deaf and blind comrade a description of what he has seen. The execution is French, of the fourteenth century; the taste, it will be said, is also French; the figures are drawn with a pen and slightly tinted: the design is incorrect; but the vivacity of gesture and expression, though verging on caricature, is so true, and so comically dramatic, and the whole composition so absurd, that it is impossible to look at it without a smile.