St. Mary of Egypt.
Ital. Santa Maria Egiziaca Penitente. Fr. Sainte Marie l’Égyptienne, La Gipesienne, La Jussienne. (April 2, A.D. 433.)
I place the story of St. Mary of Egypt here, for though she had no real connection with the Magdalene, in works of art they are perpetually associated as les bienheureuses pécheresses, and in their personal and pictorial attributes not unfrequently confounded. The legend of Mary Egyptiaca is long anterior to that of Mary Magdalene. It was current in a written form so early as the sixth century, being then received as a true history; but it appears to have been originally one of those instructive parables or religious romances which, in the early ages of the Church, were composed and circulated for the edification of the pious. In considering the manners of that time, we may easily believe that it may have had some foundation in fact. That a female anchoret of the name of Mary lived and died in a desert of Palestine near the river Jordan—that she there bewailed her sins in solitude for a long course of years, and was accidentally discovered—is a very ancient tradition, supported by contemporary evidence. The picturesque, miraculous, and romantic incidents with which the story has been adorned, appear to have been added to enhance the interest; and, in its present form, the legend is attributed to St. Jerome.
‘Towards the year of our Lord 365, there dwelt in Alexandria a woman whose name was Mary, and who in the infamy of her life far exceeded Mary Magdalene. After passing seventeen years in every species of vice, it happened that one day, while roving along the sea-shore, she beheld a ship ready to sail, and a large company preparing to embark. She inquired whither they were going? They replied that they were going up to Jerusalem, to celebrate the feast of the true cross. She was seized with a sudden desire to accompany them; but having no money, she paid the price of her passage by selling herself to the sailors and pilgrims, whom she allured to sin by every means in her power. On their arrival at Jerusalem, she joined the crowds of worshippers who had assembled to enter the church; but all her attempts to pass the threshold were in vain; whenever she thought to enter the porch, a supernatural power drove her back in shame, in terror, in despair. Struck by the remembrance of her sins, and filled with repentance, she humbled herself and prayed for help; the interdiction was removed, and she entered the church of God, crawling on her knees. Thenceforward she renounced her wicked and shameful life, and, buying at a baker’s three small loaves, she wandered forth into solitude, and never stopped or reposed till she had penetrated into the deserts beyond the Jordan, where she remained in severest penance, living on roots and fruits, and drinking water only; her garments dropped away in rags piecemeal, leaving her unclothed; and she prayed fervently not to be left thus exposed: suddenly her hair grew so long as to form a covering for her whole person (or, according to another version, an angel brought her a garment, from heaven). Thus she dwelt in the wilderness, in prayer and penance, supported only by her three small loaves, which, like the widow’s meal, failed her not, until, after the lapse of forty-seven years, she was discovered by a priest named Zosimus. Of him she requested silence, and that he would return at the end of a year, and bring with him the elements of the holy sacrament, that she might confess and communicate, before she was released from earth. And Zosimus obeyed her, and returned after a year; but not being able to pass the Jordan, the penitent, supernaturally assisted, passed over the water to him; and, having received the sacrament with tears, she desired the priest to leave her once more to her solitude, and to return in a year from that time. And when he returned he found her dead, her hands crossed on her bosom. And he wept greatly; and, looking round, he saw written in the sand these words:—“O Father Zosimus, bury the body of the poor sinner, Mary of Egypt! Give earth to earth, and dust to dust, for Christ’s sake!” He endeavoured to obey this last command, but being full of years, and troubled and weak, his strength failed him, and a lion came out of the wood and aided him, digging with his paws till the grave was sufficiently large to receive the body of the saint, which being committed to the earth, the lion retired gently, and the old man returned home, praising God, who had shown mercy to the penitent.’
In single figures and devotional pictures, Mary of Egypt is portrayed as a meagre, wasted, aged woman, with long hair, and holding in her hand three small loaves. Sometimes she is united with Mary Magdalene, as joint emblems of female penitence; and not in painting only, but in poetry,—
Like redeemed Magdalene,
Or that Egyptian penitent, whose tears
Fretted the rock, and moisten’d round her cave
The thirsty desert.
Thus they stand together in a little rare print by Marc’ Antonio, the one distinguished by her vase, the other by her three loaves. Sometimes, when they stand together, Mary Magdalene is young, beautiful, richly dressed; and Mary of Egypt, a squalid, meagre, old woman, covered with rags: as in a rare and curious print by Israel von Mecken.[321]
Pictures from her life are not common. The earliest I have met with is the series painted on the walls of the Chapel of the Bargello, at Florence, above the life of Mary Magdalene: they had been whitewashed over. In seeking for the portrait of Dante, this whitewash has been in part removed; and it is only just possible for those acquainted with the legend to trace in several compartments the history of Mary of Egypt.
1. Detached subjects are sometimes met with. In the church of San Pietro-in-Pò, at Cremona, they preserve relics said to be those of Mary of Egypt: and over the altar there is a large picture by Malosso, representing the saint at the door of the Temple at Jerusalem, and repulsed by a miraculous power. She is richly dressed, with a broad-brimmed hat, and stands on the step, as one endeavouring to enter, while several persons look on,—some amazed, others mocking.
2. Mary of Egypt doing penance in the desert is easily confounded with the penitent Magdalene. Where there is no skull, no vase of ointment, no crucifix near her, where the penitent is aged, or at least not young and beautiful, with little or no drapery, and black or grey hair, the picture may be presumed to represent Mary of Egypt, and not the Magdalene, however like in situation and sentiment. There is a large fine picture of this subject at Alton Towers.
3. The first meeting of Mary and the hermit Zosimus has been painted by Ribera: in this picture her hair is grey and short, her skin dark and sunburnt, and she is clothed in rags.
4. In another picture by the same painter she is passing over the Jordan by the help of angels; she is seen floating in the air with her hands clasped, and Zosimus is kneeling by. This subject might easily be confounded with the Assumption of the Magdalene, but the sentiment ought to distinguish them; for, instead of the ecstatic trance of the Magdalene, we have merely a miraculous incident: the figure is but little raised above the waters, and the hermit is kneeling on the shore.[322]
5. St. Mary receives the last communion from the hands of Zosimus. I have known this subject to be confounded with the last communion of the Magdalene. The circumstances of the scene, as well as the character, should be attended to. Mary of Egypt receives the sacrament in the desert; a river is generally in the background: Zosimus is an aged monk. Where the Magdalene receives the sacrament from the hands of Maximin, the scene is a portico or chapel with rich architecture, and Maximin wears the habit of a bishop.
6. The death of Mary of Egypt. Zosimus is kneeling beside her, and the lion is licking her feet or digging her grave. The presence of the lion distinguishes this subject from the death of Mary Magdalene.
St. Mary of Egypt was early a popular saint in France, and particularly venerated by the Parisians, till eclipsed by the increasing celebrity of the Magdalene. She was styled, familiarly, La Gipesienne (the Gipsy), softened by time into La Jussienne. The street in which stood a convent of reformed women, dedicated to her, is still la Rue Jussienne.
We find her whole story in one of the richly painted windows of the cathedral of Chartres; and again in the ‘Vitraux de Bourges,’ where the inscription underneath is written ‘Segiptiaca.’
Among the best modern frescoes which I saw at Paris, was the decoration of a chapel in the church of St. Merry, dedicated to Ste. Marie l’Égyptienne: the religious sentiment and manner of middle-age Art are as usual imitated, but with a certain unexpected originality in the conception of some of the subjects which pleased me. 1. On the wall, to the right, she stands leaning on the pedestal of the statue of the Madonna in a meditative attitude, and having the dress and the dark complexion of an Egyptian dancing-girl; a crowd of people are seen behind entering the gates of the Temple, at which she alone has been repulsed. 2. She receives the communion from the hand of Zosimus, and is buried by a lion.
On the left-hand wall. 3. Her apotheosis. She is borne aloft by many angels, two of whom swing censers, and below is seen the empty grave watched by a lion. 4. Underneath is a group of hermits, to whom the aged Zosimus is relating the story of the penitence and death of St. Mary of Egypt.
I do not in general accept modern representations as authorities, nor quote them as examples; but this resuscitation of Mary of Egypt in a city where she was so long a favourite saint, appears to me a curious fact. Her real existence is doubted even by the writers of that Church which, for fourteen centuries, has celebrated her conversion and glorified her name. Yet the poetical, the moral significance of her story remains; and, as I have reason to know, can still impress the fancy, and, through the fancy, waken the conscience and touch the heart.
There were several other legends current in the early ages of Christianity, promulgated, it should seem, with the distinct purpose of calling the frail and shining woman to repentance. If these were not pure inventions, if the names of these beatified penitents retained in the offices of the Church must be taken as evidence that they did exist, it is not less certain that the prototype in all these cases was the reclaimed woman of the Scriptures, and that it was the pitying charity of Christ which first taught men and angels to rejoice over the sinner that repenteth.
The legend of Mary, the niece of the hermit Abraham[323] must not be confounded with that of Mary of Egypt. The scene of this story is placed in the deserts of Syria. The anchoret Abraham had a brother, who lived in the world and possessed great riches, and when he died, leaving an only daughter, she was brought to her uncle Abraham, apparently because of his great reputation for holiness, to be brought up as he should think fit. The ideas of this holy man, with regard to education, seem to have been those entertained by many wise and religious people since his time; but there was this difference, that he did not show her the steep and thorny way to heaven, and choose for himself ‘the primrose path of dalliance.’ Instead of applying to his charge a code of morality as distinct as possible from his own, he, more just, only brought up his niece in the same ascetic principles which he deemed necessary for the salvation of all men.
Mary, therefore, being brought to her uncle when she was only seven years old, he built a cell close to his own, in which he shut her up; and, through a little window, which opened between their cells, he taught her to say her prayers, to recite the Psalter, to sing hymns, and dedicated her to a life of holiness and solitude, praying continually that she might be delivered from the snares of the arch-enemy, and keeping her far, as he thought, from all possibility of temptation; while he daily instructed her to despise and hate all the pleasures and vanities of the world.
Thus Mary grew up in her cell till she was twenty years old: then it happened that a certain youth, who had turned hermit and dwelt in that desert, came to visit Abraham to receive his instructions; and he beheld through the window the face of the maiden as she prayed in her cell, and heard her voice as she sang the morning and the evening hymn; and he was inflamed with desire of her beauty, till his whole heart became as a furnace for the love of her; and forgetting his religious vocation, and moved thereto by the devil, he tempted Mary, and she fell. When she came to herself, her heart was troubled; she beat her breast and wept bitterly, thinking of what she had been, what she had now become; and she despaired, and said in her heart, ‘For me there is no hope, no return; shame is my portion evermore!’ So she fled, not daring to meet the face of her uncle, and went to a distant place, and lived a life of sin and shame for two years.
Now, on the same night that she fled from her cell, Abraham had a dream; and he saw in his dream a monstrous dragon, who came to his cell, and finding there a beautiful white dove, devoured it, and returned to his den. When the hermit awoke from his dream he was perplexed, and knew not what it might portend; but again he dreamt, and he saw the same dragon, and he put his foot on its head, and crushed it, and took from its maw the beautiful dove, and put it in his bosom, and it came to life again, and spread its wings and flew towards heaven.
Then the old man knew that this must relate to his niece Mary; so he took up his staff, and went forth through the world seeking her everywhere. At length he found her, and seeing her overpowered with shame and despair, he exhorted her to take courage, and comforted her, and promised to take her sin and her penance on himself. She wept and embraced his knees, and said, ‘O my father! if thou thinkest there is hope for me, I will follow thee whithersoever thou goest, and kiss thy footsteps which lead me out of this gulf of sin and death!’ So he prayed with her, and reminded her that God did not desire the death of a sinner, but rather that he should turn from his wickedness and live; and she was comforted. And the next morning Abraham rose up and took his niece by the hand, leaving behind them her gay attire and jewels and ill-gotten wealth. And they returned together to the cell in the wilderness.
From this time did Mary lead a life of penitence and of great humility, ministering to her aged uncle, who died glorifying God: after his death, she lived on many years, praising God, and doing good in humbleness and singleness of heart, and having favour with the people; so that from all the country round they brought the sick, and those who were possessed, and she healed them,—such virtue was in her prayers, although she had been a sinner! Nay, it is written, that even the touch of her garment restored health to the afflicted. At length she died, and the angels carried her spirit out of the shadow and the cloud of sin, into the glory and the joy of heaven.
Although the legend of Mary the Penitent is accepted by the Church, which celebrates her conversion on the 29th of October, effigies of her must be rare; I have never met with any devotional representation of her. A print attributed to Albert Dürer represents the hermit Abraham bringing back his penitent niece to his cell.[324]
In the Louvre are two large landscapes by Philippe de Champagne, which in poetry and grandeur of conception come near to those of Niccolò Poussin; both represent scenes from the life of Mary the Penitent. In the first, amid a wild and rocky landscape, is the cell of Abraham, and Mary, sitting within it, is visited by the young hermit who tempted her to sin: in the second, we have the same wilderness, under another aspect; Mary, in a rude secluded hut, embowered in trees, is visited by pilgrims and votaries, who bring to her on their shoulders and on litters, the sick and the afflicted, to be healed by her prayers. The daughter of Champagne, whom he tenderly loved, was a nun at Port-Royal, and I think it probable that these pictures (like others of his works) were painted for that celebrated convent.
St. Thais, a renowned Greek saint, is another of these ‘bienheureuses pécheresses,’ not the same who sat at Alexander’s feast, and fired Persepolis, but a firebrand in her own way. St. Pelagia, called Pelagia Meretrix and Pelagia Mima (for she was also an actress), is another. These I pass over without further notice, because I have never seen nor read of any representation of them in Western Art.
St. Afra, who sealed her conversion with her blood, will be found among the Martyrs.
Poets have sung, and moralists and sages have taught, that for the frail woman there was nothing left but to die; or if more remained for her to suffer, there was at least nothing left for her to be or do: no choice between sackcloth and ashes and the livery of sin. The beatified penitents of the early Christian Church spoke another lesson; spoke divinely of hope for the fallen, hope without self-abasement or defiance. We, in these days, acknowledge no such saints: we have even done our best to dethrone Mary Magdalene; but we have martyrs,—‘by the pang without the palm,’—and one at least among these who has not died without lifting up a voice of eloquent and solemn warning; who has borne her palm on earth, and whose starry crown may be seen on high even now, amid the constellations of Genius.
LONDON: PRINTED BY
SPOTTISWOODE AND CO., NEW-STREET SQUARE
AND PARLIAMENT STREET