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.