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.
[Illustration: 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.
[Illustration: _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.