The Night after the Crucifixion.
[Illustration]
THERE was no third person present when Percival and I talked over the
subject of the picture on which he had bestowed his most loving pains.
It was the only one, as he told me, in which he had ventured to
introduce more than two figures. His mind had so pondered over his
subject that to him, at least, the scene appeared to be real.
Percival had, as it were, sat on the ground with the mourners for a
crucified Master; realized their sense of desolation; with them, bowed
his head and wept. What must have been the darkness when the Sun of
Righteousness had set! What the appalling stillness, when the sacred
body of the murdered Hope of Israel lay cold in the rock-hewn tomb!
The scene depicted was a room on the ground-floor of some Jerusalem
home. Scarcely any furniture is seen save a few mats on the earthen
floor, and clay lamps burning dimly in niches on the wall.
There is also a low bedstead, on which, in a half-reclining position,
appears the principal female figure, with another woman crouching on
the ground, in silent unutterable woe, at her feet. A third, standing
with clasped hands and upturned gaze, is seen near, but her wan face
bears an expression of trustful confidence which has in it something of
the sublime. She is not crushed, but exalted by trial.
Seyton. Here we doubtless see the three Maries. The central form is
that of the Lord's desolate mother; but she seems rather to be absorbed
in deep thought, than overwhelmed by the bitter grief of bereavement.
Percival. I pictured in my mind the three Maries, as types of Memory,
Love, and Faith. The mother, in her silent sorrow, is meditating over
wondrous recollections of the past; which, like the wall-lamps, cast
some light on what would otherwise appear as one chaos of gloom. "Is it
possible that He whose coming was foretold to me by a glorious angel;
at whose birth seraphs sang and the shepherds were glad—is it possible
that He has really passed from earth like a dream! Was it for nothing
that holy Elisabeth and Anna prophesied, and the aged Simeon rejoiced?
The sword has indeed pierced my soul; aye, drank as it were my very
life's blood: but was not this also foretold! Doth God give the bitter,
and withhold the sweet? Must not prophecies be fulfilled?"
Seyton. It has struck me that the circumstance of Mary of Nazareth's
not being mentioned amongst the women who visited the sepulchre—may
have arisen from her stronger faith. She, the Lord's mother, did not,
as far as we know, seek the living amongst the dead: at least, her so
doing is not recorded by any one of the four Evangelists.
Percival. The things which Mary so long pondered in her heart may,
like buried seeds, have sprung to light in the hour of her bitterest
anguish. The Lord's mother was a thoughtful woman; and she knew that
the Babe whom she had folded in her arms and pressed to her bosom was
indeed the Son of God.
Seyton. But there is nothing of hope expressed in the attitude of Mary
Magdalene in your picture.
Percival. No; she has loved, and she has lost, her Lord; lost Him, as
she thinks, for ever, as regards this mortal life. Mary has kissed the
dead feet; has pressed to her lips the wounded hand; and her tears have
dropped on the thorn-encircled brow. Even the sight of angels will
convey to her no comfort; her grief-dimmed eyes will not recognize the
risen Christ Himself, till she hears His own beloved voice pronounce
her familiar name.
Seyton. The third Mary presents a contrast to the Magdalene: the sister
of Lazarus, with the tears streaming down her cheeks, looks as if on
her pale lips could almost dawn a triumphant smile.
Percival. Have you never thought what was probably the subject of the
Lord's discourse to Mary of Bethany when, absorbed in listening, she
sat at His feet? Is it not likely that Christ was disclosing to her,
as He did to less believing disciples, the approaching sacrifice on
Calvary, and the glory which was to follow?
Seyton. If such were the subject of Christ's discourse, how Martha's
impetuous interruption must have jarred both on the Divine Teacher and
the listener who was drinking in such soul-absorbing truths!
Percival. Surely it was not in blind ignorance of the meaning of what
she did, that Mary brought her precious ointment to pour on the feet of
the Master! He who could read her inmost thoughts said, "She did it for
My burial." Were not Mary's thoughts, then, something like this—
"He hath said it—alas! alas!—and all that my Lord says must be true.
The holy Jesus will be delivered into the hands of the Gentiles. He
will be mocked, scourged, and slain. Yes, He who called my brother from
the grave must Himself die! And they who murder Him will not, perhaps,
suffer due honour to be paid to the holy corpse; I may not be able to
approach the sacred form! I will be beforehand with Christ's cruel
foes; what I may not be allowed to do after His death, I will do ere
the awful moment come when the Lamb of God must be sacrificed for our
sins. I will anoint Him for His burial!"
Seyton. And when the sacrifice had been offered, you believe that Mary
of Bethany, unlike any of the apostles, had faith to look beyond death
to Christ's Resurrection?
Percival. There is nothing in Scripture that I know of to lead us to
doubt it. The piety of Mary of Bethany seems to have been of a higher,
a more spiritual type, than that of her sister. It was not Mary who
exclaimed against the removal of the stone from the sepulchre's mouth.
Mary perhaps saw in the resurrection of Lazarus a type and pledge of
that of her Lord. If so, her joy must have been yet more intense than
that of Martha, even as her gratitude took a more palpable form.
Seyton. It is interesting and refreshing to the spirit thus to meditate
over Scripture characters. What to some are merely like ancient
statues, when we gaze on them thus, become human beings instinct with
life.
Percival. And such meditation makes us realize the tie which binds
Christians of to-day to saints of the olden time; at least, it has that
effect with me. I feel almost as if those whose forms I have attempted
to depict on my canvas had become my familiar friends. I look forward
to meeting those three Maries hereafter: perhaps that time may not be
far off.
Seyton. There are two male figures in the background of your picture,
represented as just about to enter the room. One, the elder, appears to
be struggling to retire: he is unwilling to intrude on the sacredness
of grief.
Percival. Can you not read sorrow and shame on his half-averted face?
Seyton. His younger companion is using loving persuasion to draw him
forward: his arm is thrown around the elder, and his face expresses
compassion and love. The two figures must represent John and Peter.
Percival. Such was the idea in my mind. Where would poor broken-hearted
Peter hide himself when, pierced by that look of his Lord, he went
forth and bitterly wept? Would he not seek the solemn shade of the
olives in the Garden of Gethsemane, and prostrate himself on the spot
where the Master had knelt in agonized prayer? Would not Peter lay his
throbbing brow on the sod where he could trace red signs of the bloody
sweat, and try to efface them with his hot tears?
Percival went on: How terrible to Peter must have been the darkness
which for three hours covered the earth, a sign that the fearful deed
was being done, on which the sun could not look! He who had thrice
denied his Lord dared not go near His cross; but the disciple's
anguished soul would vividly picture its horrors. Peter must have
trembled at the shock of the earthquake which told that all was over.
How could he rise from the earth? How endure ever to look again on the
face of a fellow-apostle?
Seyton. And you have imagined John, with tender sympathy, seeking out
his erring brother in the place where he would be most likely to find
him.
Percival. And entreating Peter not to remain apart from all his
brethren; not to give way to despair: but to join those who, like
himself, were mourning their crucified Lord.
Seyton. No marvel that Peter should shrink from entering the presence
of the bereaved mother of Christ!
Percival. Mary would not turn from him; she would utter no word of
reproach: she would raise her tearful eyes, and give the penitent Peter
a look which would remind him of that which he had last seen on the
sacred face of her Son.