Legends of the Madonna as Represented in the Fine Arts Part 21

[Footnote 1: At Milan. The fine engraving by Longhi is well known.]

[Footnote 2: In the series by Giotto at Padua, we have the youth breaking his wand across his knee.]

In Ghirlandajo's composition (Florence, S. Maria Novella), Joseph is an old man with a bald head; the architecture is splendid; the accessory figures, as is usual with Ghirlandajo, are numerous and full of grace. In the background are musicians playing on the pipe and tabor, an incident which I do not recollect to have seen in other pictures.

The Sposalizio by Girolamo da Cotignola (Bologna Gal.), painted for the church of St. Joseph, is treated quite in a mystical style. Mary and Joseph stand before an altar, on the steps of which are seated, on one side a prophet, on the other a sibyl.

By the German painters the scene is represented with a characteristic homely neglect of all historic propriety. The temple is a Gothic church; the altar has a Gothic altar-piece; Joseph looks like an old burgher arrayed in furs and an embroidered gown; and the Virgin is richly dressed in the costume of the fifteenth century. The suitors are often knights and cavaliers with spurs and tight hose.

It is not said anywhere that St. Anna and St. Joachim were present at the marriage of their daughter; hence they are supposed to have been dead before it took place. This has not prevented some of the old German artists from introducing them, because, according to their ideas of domestic propriety, they _ought_ to have been present.

I observe that the later painters who treated the subject, Rubens and Poussin for instance, omit the disappointed suitors.

After the marriage, or betrothal, Joseph conducts his wife to his house. The group of the returning procession has been beautifully treated in Giotto's series at Padua;[1] still more beautifully by Luigi in the fragment of fresco now in the Brera at Milan. Here Joseph and Mary walk together hand in hand. He looks at her, just touching her fingers with an air of tender veneration; she looks down, serenely modest. Thus they return together to their humble home; and with this scene closes the first part of the life of the Virgin Mary.

[Footnote 1: Cappella dell' Arena, engraved for the Arundel Society.]

HISTORICAL SUBJECTS

PART II

THE LIFE OF THE VIRGIN MARY FROM THE ANNUNCIATION TO THE RETURN FROM EGYPT.

1. THE ANNUNCIATION. 2. THE SALUTATION OF ELIZABETH. 3. THE JOUBNEY TO BETHLEHEM. 4. THE NATIVITY. 6. THE ADORATION OF THE SHEPHERDS. 6.

THE ADORATION OF THE MAGI. 7. THE PRESENTATION IN THE TEMPLE. 8. THE FLIGHT INTO EGYPT. 9. THE RIPOSO. 10. THE RETURN FROM EGYPT.

THE ANNUNCIATION.

_Ital._ L' Annunciazione. La B. Vergine Annunziata. _Fr._ L'Annonciation. La Salutation Angelique. _Ger._ Die Verkundi gung. Der Englische Gruss. March 25.

The second part of the life of the Virgin Mary begins with the Annunciation and ends with the Crucifixion, comprising all those scriptural incidents which connect her history with that of her divine Son.

But to the scenes narrated in the Gospels the painters did not confine themselves. Not only were the simple scripture histories coloured throughout by the predominant and enthusiastic veneration paid to the Virgin--till the life of Christ was absolutely merged in that of His mother, and its various incidents became "the seven joys and the seven sorrows of Mary,"--but we find the artistic representations of her life curiously embroidered and variegated by the introduction of traditional and apocryphal circ.u.mstances, in most cases sanctioned by the Church authorities of the time. However doubtful or repulsive some of these scenes and incidents, we cannot call them absolutely unmeaning or absurd; on the contrary, what was _supposed_ grew up very naturally, in the vivid and excited imaginations of the people, out of what was _recorded_; nor did they distinguish accurately between what they were allowed and what they were commanded to believe. Neither can it be denied that the traditional incidents--those at least which we find artistically treated--are often singularly beautiful, poetical, and instructive. In the hands of the great religions artists, who worked in their vocation with faith and simplicity, objects and scenes the most familiar and commonplace became sanctified and glorified by a.s.sociation with what we deem most holy and most venerable. In the hands of the later painters the result was just the reverse--what was most spiritual, most hallowed, most elevated, became secularized, materialized, and shockingly degraded.

No subject has been more profoundly felt and more beautifully handled by the old painters, nor more vilely mishandled by the moderns, than the ANNUNCIATION, of all the scenes in the life of Mary the most important and the most commonly met with. Considered merely as an artistic subject, it is surely eminently beautiful: it places before us the two most graceful forms which the hand of man was ever called on to delineate;--the winged spirit fresh from paradise; the woman not less pure, and even more highly blessed--the chosen vessel of redemption, and the personification of all female loveliness, all female excellence, all wisdom, and all purity.

We find the Annunciation, like many other scriptural incidents, treated in two ways--as a mystery, and as an event. Taken in the former sense, it became the expressive symbol of a momentous article of faith, _The Incarnation of the Deity_. Taken in the latter sense, it represented the announcement of salvation to mankind, through the direct interposition of miraculous power. In one sense or the other, it enters into every scheme of ecclesiastical decoration; but chiefly it is set before us as a great and awful mystery, of which the two figures of Gabriel, the angel-messenger, and Mary the "highly-favoured," placed in relation to each other, became the universally accepted symbol, rather than the representation.

THE ANNUNCIATION AS A MYSTERY.

Considering the importance given to the Annunciation in its mystical sense, it is strange that we do not find it among the very ancient symbolical subjects adopted in the first ages of Christian art. It does not appear on the sarcophagi, nor in the early Greek carvings and diptychs, nor in the early mosaics--except once, and then as a part of the history of Christ, not as a symbol; nor can we trace the mystical treatment of this subject higher than the eleventh century, when it first appears in the Gothic sculpture and stained gla.s.s. In the thirteenth, and thenceforward, the Annunciation appears before us, as the expression in form of a theological dogma, everywhere conspicuous. It became a primal element in every combination of sacred representations; the corner-stone, as it were, of every architectural system of religious decoration. It formed a part of every altar-piece, either in sculpture or painting. Sometimes the Virgin stands on one side of the altar, the angel on the other, carved in marble or alabaster, or of wood richly painted and gilt; or even, as I have seen in some instances, of solid silver. Not seldom, we find the two figures placed in niches against the pillars, or on pedestals at the entrance of the choir. It was not necessary, when thus symbolically treated, to place the two figures in proximity to signify their relation to each other; they are often divided by the whole breadth of the chancel.

Whatever the subject of the altar-piece--whether the Nativity, or the Enthroned Madonna, or the Coronation, or the Crucifixion, or the Last Supper,--the Annunciation almost invariably formed part of the decoration, inserted either into the spandrels of the arches above, or in the predella below; or, which is very common, painted or carved on the doors of a tabernacle or triptychon.

If the figures are full-length, a certain symmetry being required, they are either both standing or both kneeling; it is only in later times that the Virgin sits, and the angel kneels. When disposed in circles or semicircles, they are often merely busts, or half-length figures, separated perhaps by a framework of tracery, or set on each side of the princ.i.p.al subject, whatever that may be. Hence it is that we so often find in galleries and collections, pictures of the Annunciation in two separate parts, the angel in one frame, the Virgin in another; and perhaps the two pictures, thus disunited, may have found their way into different countries and different collections,--the Virgin being in Italy and the angel in England.

Sometimes the Annunciation--still as a mystical subject--forms an altar-piece of itself. In many Roman Catholic churches there is a chapel or an altar dedicated expressly to the mystery of the Annunciation, the subject forming of course the princ.i.p.al decoration.

At Florence there is a church--one of the most splendid and interesting of its many beautiful edifices--dedicated to the Annunciation, or rather to the Virgin in her especial character and dignity, as the Instrument of the Incarnation, and thence styled the church _della Santissima Nunziata_. The fine mosaic of the Annunciation by Ghirlandajo is placed over the princ.i.p.al entrance. Of this church, and of the order of the Servi, to whom it belongs, I have already spoken at length. Here, in the first chapel on the left, as we enter, is to be found the miraculous picture of the Annunciation, formerly held in such veneration, not merely by all Florence, but all Christendom:--found, but not seen--for it is still concealed from profane eyes, and exhibited to the devout only on great occasions. The name of the painter is disputed; but, according to tradition, it is the work of a certain Bartolomeo; who, while he sat meditating on the various excellences and perfections of our Lady, and most especially on her divine beauty, and thinking, with humility, how inadequate were his own powers to represent her worthily, fell asleep; and on awaking, found the head of the Virgin had been wondrously completed, either by the hand of an angel, or by that of St. Luke, who had descended from heaven on purpose. Though this curious relic has been frequently restored, no one has presumed to touch the features of the Virgin, which are, I am told--for I have never been blessed with a sight of the original picture--marvellously sweet and beautiful. It is concealed by a veil, on which is painted a fine head of the Redeemer, by Andrea del Sarto; and forty-two lamps of silver burn continually round it. There is a copy in the Pitti Palace, by Carlo Dolce.

It is evident that the Annunciation, as a mystery, admits of a style of treatment which would not be allowable in the representation of an event. In the former case, the artist is emanc.i.p.ated from all considerations of locality or circ.u.mstance. Whether the background be of gold, or of blue, or star-bespangled sky,--a mere curtain, or a temple of gorgeous architecture; whether the accessories be the most simple or the most elaborate, the most real or the most ideal; all this is of little moment, and might be left to the imagination of the artist, or might be modified according to the conditions imposed by the purpose of the representation and the material employed, so long as the chief object is fulfilled--the significant expression of an abstract dogma, appealing to the faith, not to the senses or the understanding, of the observer.

To this cla.s.s, then, belong all those church images and pictures of the Annunciation, either confined to the two personages, with just sufficient of att.i.tude and expression to place them in relation to each other, or with such accompaniments as served to carry out the mystical idea, still keeping it as far as possible removed from the region of earthly possibilities. In the fifteenth century--that age of mysticism--we find the Annunciation, not merely treated as an abstract religious emblem, but as a sort of divine allegory or poem, which in old French and Flemish art is clothed in the quaintest, the most curious forms. I recollect going into a church at Breslau, and finding over one of the altars a most elaborate carving in wood of the Annunciation. Mary is seated within a Gothic porch of open tracery work; a unicorn takes refuge in her bosom: outside, a kneeling angel winds a hunting horn; three or four dogs are crouching near him. I looked and wondered. At first I could make nothing of this singular allegory; but afterwards found the explanation, in a learned French work on the "Stalles d'Amiens." I give the original pa.s.sage, for it will a.s.sist the reader to the comprehension of many curious works of art; but I do not venture to translate it.

"On sait qu'an XVI siecle, le mystere de l'Incarnation etoit souvent represente par une allegorie ainsi concue: Une licorne se refugiant au sein d'une vierge pure, quatre levriers la pressant d'une course rapide, un veneur aile sonnant de la trompette. La science de la zoologie mystique du temps aide a en trouver l'explication; le fabuleux animal dont l'unique corne ne blessait que pour purger de tout venin l'endroit du corps qu'elle avoit touche, figuroit Jesus Christ, medecin et sauveur des ames; on donnait aux levriers agiles les noms de Misericordia, Veritas, Just.i.tia, Pax, les quatre raisons qui ont presse le Verbe eternel de sortir de son repos mais comme c'etoit par la Vierge Marie qu'il avoit voulu descendre parmi les hommes et se mettre en leur puissance, on croyoit ne pouvoir mieux faire que de choisir dans la fable, le fait d'une pucelle pouvant seule servir de piege a la licorne, en l'attirant par le charme et le parfum de son sein virginal qu'elle lui presentoit; enfin l'ange Gabriel concourant au mystere etoit bien reconnoissable sous les traits du venenr aile lancant les levriers et embouchant la trompette."

It appears that this was an accepted religious allegory, as familiar in the sixteenth century as those of Spenser's "Fairy Queen" or the "Pilgrim's Progress" are to us. I have since found it frequently reproduced in the old French and German prints: there is a specimen in the British Museum; and there is a picture similarly treated in the Musee at Amiens. I have never seen it in an Italian picture or print; unless a print after Guido, wherein a beautiful maiden is seated under a tree, and a unicorn has sought refuge in her lap, be intended to convey the same far-fetched allegory.

Very common, however, in Italian art, is a less fantastic, but still wholly poetical version of the Annunciation, representing, in fact, not the Annunciation, but the Incarnation. Thus, in a picture by Giovanni Sanzio (the father of Raphael) (Brera, Milan), Mary stands under a splendid portico; she appears as if just risen from her seat her hands are meekly folded over her bosom; her head declined. The angel kneels outside the portico, holding forth his lily; while above, in the heavens, the Padre Eterno sends forth the Redeemer, who, in form of the infant Christ bearing his cross, floats downwards towards the earth, preceded by the mystic Dove. This manner of representing the Incarnation is strongly disapproved of by the Abbe Mery (v.

Theologie des Peintres), as not only an error, but a heresy: yet it was frequently repeated in the sixteenth century.

The Annunciation is also a mystery when certain emblems are introduced conveying a certain signification; as when Mary is seated on a throne, wearing a radiant crown of mingled gems and flowers, and receives the message of the angel with all the majesty that could be expressed by the painter; or is seated, in a garden enclosed by a hedge of roses (the _Hortus clausus_ or _conclusus_ of the Canticles); or where the angel holds in his hands the sealed book, as in the famous altar-piece at Cologne.

In a picture by Simone Memmi, the Virgin seated on a Gothic throne receives, as the higher and superior being, yet with a shrinking timidity, the salutation of the angel, who comes as the messenger of peace, olive-crowned, and bearing a branch of olive in his hand.

(Florence Gal.) This poetical version is very characteristic of the early Siena school, in which we often find a certain fanciful and original way of treating well known subjects. Taddeo Bartoli, another Sienese, and Martin Schoen, the most poetical of the early Germans, also adopted the olive-symbol; and we find it also in the tabernacle of King Rene, already described.

The treatment is clearly devotional and ideal where attendant saints and votaries stand or kneel around, contemplating with devout grat.i.tude or ecstatic wonder the divine mystery. Thus, in a remarkable and most beautiful picture by Fra Bartolomeo, the Virgin is seated on her throne; the angel descends from on high bearing his lily: around the throne attend St. John the Baptist and St. Francis, St. Jerome, St. Paul, and St. Margaret. (Bologna Gal.) Again, in a very beautiful picture by Francia, Mary stands in the midst of an open landscape; her hands, folded over each other, press to her bosom a book closed and clasped: St. Jerome stands on the right, John the Baptist on the left; both look up with a devout expression to the angel descending from above. In both these examples Mary is very n.o.bly and expressively represented as the chosen and predestined vehicle of human redemption.

It is not here the Annunciation, but the "_Sacratissima Annunziata_"

we see before us. In a curious picture by Francesco da Cotignola, Mary stands on a sculptured pedestal, in the midst of an architectural decoration of many-coloured marbles, most elaborately painted: through an opening is seen a distant landscape, and the blue sky; on her right stands St. John the Baptist, pointing upwards; on her left St.

Francis, adoring; the votary kneels in front. (Berlin Gal.) Votive pictures of the Annunciation were frequently expressive offerings from those who desired, or those who had received, the blessing of an heir; and this I take to be an instance.

In the following example, the picture is votive in another sense, and altogether poetical. The Virgin Mary receives the message of the angel, as usual; but before her, at a little distance, kneels the Cardinal Torrecremata, who presents three young girls, also kneeling, to one of whom the Virgin gives a purse of money. This curious and beautiful picture becomes intelligible, when we find that it was painted for a charitable community, inst.i.tuted by Torrecremata, for educating and endowing poor orphan girls, and styled the "_Confraternita dell' Annunziata_."[1]

[Footnote 1: Benozzo Gozzoli, in S. Maria sopra Minerva, Rome.]