Part 1 — St. Mary Magdalene, St. Martha, St. Lazarus, St. Marímín, St. Marcella, St. Mary of Egypt, and the Beatified Penitents. (continued 2)
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On the left-hand wall. 3. Her apotheosis. She is borne aloft by many angels, two of whom swing censers, and below is seen the empty grave watched by a lion. 4. Underneath is a group of hermits, to whom the aged Zosimus is relating the story of the penitence and death of St. Mary of Egypt.
I do not in general accept modern representations as authorities, nor quote them as examples; but this resuscitation of Mary of Egypt in a city where she was so long a favourite saint, appears to me a curious fact. Her real existence is doubted even by the writers of that Church which, for fourteen centuries, has celebrated her conversion and glorified her name. Yet the poetical, the moral significance of her story remains; and, as I have reason to know, can still impress the fancy, and, through the fancy, waken the conscience and touch the heart.
There were several other legends current in the early ages of Christianity, promulgated, it should seem, with the distinct purpose of calling the frail and shining woman to repentance. If these were not pure inventions, if the names of these beatified penitents retained in the offices of the Church must be taken as evidence that they did exist, it is not less certain that the prototype in all these cases was the reclaimed woman of the Scriptures, and that it was the pitying charity of Christ which first taught men and angels to rejoice over the sinner that repenteth.
The legend of Mary, the niece of the hermit Abraham[323] must not be confounded with that of Mary of Egypt. The scene of this story is placed in the deserts of Syria. The anchoret Abraham had a brother, who lived in the world and possessed great riches, and when he died, leaving an only daughter, she was brought to her uncle Abraham, apparently because of his great reputation for holiness, to be brought up as he should think fit. The ideas of this holy man, with regard to education, seem to have been those entertained by many wise and religious people since his time; but there was this difference, that he did not show her the steep and thorny way to heaven, and choose for himself ‘the primrose path of dalliance.’ Instead of applying to his charge a code of morality as distinct as possible from his own, he, more just, only brought up his niece in the same ascetic principles which he deemed necessary for the salvation of all men.
Mary, therefore, being brought to her uncle when she was only seven years old, he built a cell close to his own, in which he shut her up; and, through a little window, which opened between their cells, he taught her to say her prayers, to recite the Psalter, to sing hymns, and dedicated her to a life of holiness and solitude, praying continually that she might be delivered from the snares of the arch-enemy, and keeping her far, as he thought, from all possibility of temptation; while he daily instructed her to despise and hate all the pleasures and vanities of the world.
Thus Mary grew up in her cell till she was twenty years old: then it happened that a certain youth, who had turned hermit and dwelt in that desert, came to visit Abraham to receive his instructions; and he beheld through the window the face of the maiden as she prayed in her cell, and heard her voice as she sang the morning and the evening hymn; and he was inflamed with desire of her beauty, till his whole heart became as a furnace for the love of her; and forgetting his religious vocation, and moved thereto by the devil, he tempted Mary, and she fell. When she came to herself, her heart was troubled; she beat her breast and wept bitterly, thinking of what she had been, what she had now become; and she despaired, and said in her heart, ‘For me there is no hope, no return; shame is my portion evermore!’ So she fled, not daring to meet the face of her uncle, and went to a distant place, and lived a life of sin and shame for two years.
Now, on the same night that she fled from her cell, Abraham had a dream; and he saw in his dream a monstrous dragon, who came to his cell, and finding there a beautiful white dove, devoured it, and returned to his den. When the hermit awoke from his dream he was perplexed, and knew not what it might portend; but again he dreamt, and he saw the same dragon, and he put his foot on its head, and crushed it, and took from its maw the beautiful dove, and put it in his bosom, and it came to life again, and spread its wings and flew towards heaven.
Then the old man knew that this must relate to his niece Mary; so he took up his staff, and went forth through the world seeking her everywhere. At length he found her, and seeing her overpowered with shame and despair, he exhorted her to take courage, and comforted her, and promised to take her sin and her penance on himself. She wept and embraced his knees, and said, ‘O my father! if thou thinkest there is hope for me, I will follow thee whithersoever thou goest, and kiss thy footsteps which lead me out of this gulf of sin and death!’ So he prayed with her, and reminded her that God did not desire the death of a sinner, but rather that he should turn from his wickedness and live; and she was comforted. And the next morning Abraham rose up and took his niece by the hand, leaving behind them her gay attire and jewels and ill-gotten wealth. And they returned together to the cell in the wilderness.
From this time did Mary lead a life of penitence and of great humility, ministering to her aged uncle, who died glorifying God: after his death, she lived on many years, praising God, and doing good in humbleness and singleness of heart, and having favour with the people; so that from all the country round they brought the sick, and those who were possessed, and she healed them,—such virtue was in her prayers, although she had been a sinner! Nay, it is written, that even the touch of her garment restored health to the afflicted. At length she died, and the angels carried her spirit out of the shadow and the cloud of sin, into the glory and the joy of heaven.
Although the legend of Mary the Penitent is accepted by the Church, which celebrates her conversion on the 29th of October, effigies of her must be rare; I have never met with any devotional representation of her. A print attributed to Albert Dürer represents the hermit Abraham bringing back his penitent niece to his cell.[324]
In the Louvre are two large landscapes by Philippe de Champagne, which in poetry and grandeur of conception come near to those of Niccolò Poussin; both represent scenes from the life of Mary the Penitent. In the first, amid a wild and rocky landscape, is the cell of Abraham, and Mary, sitting within it, is visited by the young hermit who tempted her to sin: in the second, we have the same wilderness, under another aspect; Mary, in a rude secluded hut, embowered in trees, is visited by pilgrims and votaries, who bring to her on their shoulders and on litters, the sick and the afflicted, to be healed by her prayers. The daughter of Champagne, whom he tenderly loved, was a nun at Port-Royal, and I think it probable that these pictures (like others of his works) were painted for that celebrated convent.
St. Thais, a renowned Greek saint, is another of these ‘bienheureuses pécheresses,’ not the same who sat at Alexander’s feast, and fired Persepolis, but a firebrand in her own way. St. Pelagia, called Pelagia Meretrix and Pelagia Mima (for she was also an actress), is another. These I pass over without further notice, because I have never seen nor read of any representation of them in Western Art.
St. Afra, who sealed her conversion with her blood, will be found among the Martyrs.
Poets have sung, and moralists and sages have taught, that for the frail woman there was nothing left but to die; or if more remained for her to suffer, there was at least nothing left for her to be or do: no choice between sackcloth and ashes and the livery of sin. The beatified penitents of the early Christian Church spoke another lesson; spoke divinely of hope for the fallen, hope without self-abasement or defiance. We, in these days, acknowledge no such saints: we have even done our best to dethrone Mary Magdalene; but we have martyrs,—‘by the pang without the palm,’—and one at least among these who has not died without lifting up a voice of eloquent and solemn warning; who has borne her palm on earth, and whose starry crown may be seen on high even now, amid the constellations of Genius.
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