Chapter XV: Part 15

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]

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.

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.

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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.

The sacred subjects in which she is introduced are the following:—

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.

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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.

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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.

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.

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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.’

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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.

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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.

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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.

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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.

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.

ST. MARTHA.

_Ital._ Santa Marta, Vergine, Albergatrice di Cristo. _Fr._ Sainte
Marthe, la Travailleuse. Patroness of cooks and housewives. (June 29,
A.D. 84.)

Martha has shared in the veneration paid to her sister. The important part assigned to her in the history of Mary has already been adverted to; she is always represented as the instrument through whom Mary was converted, the one who led her first to the feet of the Saviour. ‘Which thing,’ says the story, should not be accounted as the least of her merits, seeing that Martha was a chaste and prudent virgin, and the other publicly contemned for her evil life; notwithstanding which, Martha did not despise her, nor reject her as a sister, but wept for her shame and admonished her gently and with persuasive words; and reminded her of her noble birth, to which she was a disgrace, and that Lazarus, their brother, being a soldier, would certainly get into trouble on her account. So she prevailed, and conducted her sister to the presence of Christ, and afterwards, as it is well known, she lodged and entertained the Saviour in her own house.‘[316]

According to the Provençal legend, while Mary Magdalene converted the people of Marseilles, Martha preached to the people of Aix and its vicinity. In those days the country was ravaged by a fearful dragon, called the _Tarasque_, which during the day lay concealed in the river Rhone. Martha overcame this monster by sprinkling him with holy water, and having bound him with her girdle (or, as others say, her garter), the people speedily put an end to him. The scene of this legend is now the city of _Tarascon_, where there is, or was, a magnificent church, dedicated to St. Martha, and richly endowed by Louis XI.

The same legends assure us that St. Martha was the first who founded a monastery for women; the first, after the blessed Mother of Christ, who vowed her virginity to God; and that when she had passed many years in prayer and good works, feeling that her end was near, she desired to be carried to a spot where she could see the glorious sun in heaven, and that they should read to her the history of the passion of Christ; and when they came to the words, ‘Father, into thy hands I commend my spirit,’ she died.

As Mary Magdalene is the patroness of repentant frailty, so Martha is the especial patroness of female discretion and good housekeeping. In this character, she is often represented with a skimmer or ladle in her hand, or a large bunch of keys is attached to her girdle. For example, in a beautiful old German altar-piece attributed to Albert Dürer,[317] she is standing in a magnificent dress, a jewelled turban, and holding a well-known implement of cookery in her hand. In a missal of Henry VIII.,[318] she is represented with the same utensil, and her name is inscribed beneath. In general, however, her dress is not rich but homely, and her usual attributes as patron saint are the pot of holy water, the asperge in her hand, and a dragon bound at her feet. In the chapels dedicated to the Magdalene, she finds her appropriate place as pendant to her sister, generally distinguished by her close coif and by being draped in blue or dark brown or grey; while the Magdalene is usually habited in red. When attended by her dragon, St. Martha is sometimes confounded with St. Margaret, who is also accompanied by a dragon: but it must be remembered that St. Margaret bears a crucifix or palm, and St. Martha the pot of holy water; and in general the early painters have been careful to distinguish these attributes.

St. Martha, besides being a model of female discretion, sobriety, and chastity, and the patroness of good housewives, was, according to the old legends, the same woman who was healed by Christ, and who in gratitude erected to his honour a bronze statue, which statue is said to have existed in the time of Eusebius, and to have been thrown down by Julian the Apostate.[319]

When Martha and Mary stand together as patronesses, one represents the _active_, the other the _contemplative_, Christian life.

Martha is generally introduced among the holy women who attend the crucifixion and entombment of our Lord. In a most beautiful Entombment by Ambrogio Lorenzetti, Martha kisses the hand of the Saviour, while Mary Magdalene is seen behind with outspread arms: Lazarus and Maximin stand at the head of the Saviour.

* * * * *

Lazarus, the brother of Martha and Mary, is revered as the first bishop and patron saint of Marseilles, and is generally represented with the mitre and stole. There are at least fifty saints who wear the same attire; but when a figure in episcopal robes is introduced into the same picture, or the same series, with Martha and Mary, it may be presumed, if not otherwise distinguished, to be St. Lazarus: sometimes, but rarely, the introduction of a bier, or his resurrection, in the background, serves to fix the identity. Grouped with these three saints, we occasionally find St. Marcella (or Martilla), who accompanied them from the East, but who is not distinguished by any attribute; nor is anything particular related of her, except that she wrote the life of Martha, and preached the Gospel in Sclavonia.

* * * * *

There are beautiful full-length figures of Mary, Martha, Lazarus, and Marcella, in the Brera at Milan, painted by one of the Luini school, and treated in a very classical and noble style; draped, and standing in niches to represent statues. At Munich are the separate figures of Mary, Martha, and Lazarus, by Grünewald: Lazarus is seen standing by his bier; Mary, in the rich costume of a German lady of rank, presents her vase; and Martha is habited like a German _hausfrau_, with her dragon at her feet. They are much larger than life, admirably painted, and full of character, though somewhat grotesque in treatment.

Over the altar of the church ‘La Major’ at Marseilles, stands Lazarus as bishop; Mary on the right, and Martha on the left: underneath these three statues runs a series of bas-reliefs containing the history of Lazarus. 1. He is recalled to life. 2. Seated on the edge of his tomb, he addresses the spectators. 3. He entertains Christ. 4. The arrival at Marseilles. 5. He preaches to the people. 6. He is consecrated bishop. 7. He suffers martyrdom.

In a tabernacle or triptica by Nicolò Frumenti (A.D. 1461),[320] the central compartment represents the raising of Lazarus, who has the truest and most horrid expression of death and dawning life I ever beheld. On the volet to the right is the supper in the house of Levi, and the Magdalene anointing the feet of the Saviour; on the left volet, Martha meets him on his arrival at Bethany: ‘Lord, if thou hadst been here, my brother had not died.’

In the chapel of Mary Magdalene at Assisi, we find, besides the history of her life, full-length figures of Mary, Martha, Lazarus, and Maximin. Mary, a beautiful dignified figure, as usual in rich red drapery, stands to the right of the altar, holding out her hand to a kneeling Franciscan: on the left Martha stands in grey drapery with a close hood: Lazarus and Maximin as bishops.

* * * * *

This will give an idea of the manner in which these personages are either grouped together or placed in connection with each other.

ST. MARY OF EGYPT.

_Ital._ Santa Maria Egiziaca Penitente. _Fr._ Sainte Marie
l’Égyptienne, La Gipesienne, La Jussienne. (April 2, A.D. 433.)

I place the story of St. Mary of Egypt here, for though she had no real connection with the Magdalene, in works of art they are perpetually associated as _les bienheureuses pécheresses_, and in their personal and pictorial attributes not unfrequently confounded. The legend of Mary _Egyptiaca_ is long anterior to that of Mary Magdalene. It was current in a written form so early as the sixth century, being then received as a true history; but it appears to have been originally one of those instructive parables or religious romances which, in the early ages of the Church, were composed and circulated for the edification of the pious. In considering the manners of that time, we may easily believe that it may have had some foundation in fact. That a female anchoret of the name of Mary lived and died in a desert of Palestine near the river Jordan—that she there bewailed her sins in solitude for a long course of years, and was accidentally discovered—is a very ancient tradition, supported by contemporary evidence. The picturesque, miraculous, and romantic incidents with which the story has been adorned, appear to have been added to enhance the interest; and, in its present form, the legend is attributed to St. Jerome.