_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.
[Illustration: 91 Mary Magdalene (Donatello)]
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.
[Illustration: 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.
[Illustration: 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]
[Illustration: 94 Mary Magdalene (Murillo)]
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.
[Illustration: 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.