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.
