a gorgeous crown, which her Son has placed on her brow Christ has only
the cruciform nimbus; in his left hand is an open book, on which is
inscribed, "_Veni, Electa mea_" &c. "Come, my chosen one, and I will
place thee upon my throne." The Virgin holds a tablet, on which are
the words "His right hand should be under my head, and his left hand
should embrace me." (Cant. viii. 3.) The omnipotent Hand is stretched
forth in benediction above. Here the Virgin is the type of the Church
triumphant and glorified, having overcome the world; and the solemn
significance of the whole representation is to be found in the Book of
Revelations: "To him that overcometh will I grant _to sit with me in
my throne_, even as I also overcame and am set down with my Father in
his throne." (Rev. iii. 21.)

This mosaic, in which, be it observed, the Virgin is enthroned with
Christ, and _embraced_, not crowned, by him, is, I believe, unique
either as a picture or a church decoration. It is not older than
the twelfth century, is very ill executed, but is curious from the
peculiarity of the treatment. (Rome. S. Maria in Trastevere.)

*       *       *       *       *

In the mosaic in the tribune of S. Maria-Maggiore at Rome, perhaps
the earliest example extant of the Coronation, properly so called, the
subject is treated with a grand and solemn simplicity. Christ and the
Virgin, colossal figures, are seated on the same regal throne within
a circular glory. The background is blue studded with golden stars.
He places the crown on her head with his right hand; in the left he
holds an open book, with the usual text, "_Veni, Electa mea, et ponam
te in thronum meum_," &c. She bends slightly forward, and her hands
are lifted in adoration. Above and around the circular glory the
emblematical vine twines in arabesque form; among the branches and
leaves sit peacocks and other birds; the peacock being the old emblem
of immortality, as birds in general are emblems of spirituality. On
each side of the glory are nine adoring angels, representing the nine
choirs of the heavenly hierarchy; beyond these on the right stand St.
Peter, St. Paul, St. Francis; on the left, St. John the Baptist, St.
John the Evangelist, and St. Antony of Padua; all these figures being
very small in proportion to those of Christ and the Virgin. Smaller
still, and quite diminutive in comparison, are the kneeling figures of
Pope Nicholas IV. and Cardinal Giacomo Colonna, under whose auspices
the mosaic was executed by Jacopo della Turrita, a Franciscan friar,
about 1288. In front flows the river Jordan, symbol of baptism and
regeneration; on its shore stands the hart, the emblem of religions
aspiration. Underneath the central group is the inscription,--

MARIA VIRGO ASSUMPTA AD ETHERIUM THALAMUM
IN QUO REX REGUM STELLATO SEDET SOLIO.

The whole of this vast and poetical composition is admirably executed,
and it is the more curious as being, perhaps, one of the earliest
examples of the glorification of St. Francis and St. Antony of Padua
(Monastic Orders), who were canonized about thirty or forty years
before.

The mosaic, by Gaddo Gaddi (Florence, A.D. 1330), over the great door
in the cathedral at Florence, is somewhat different. Christ, while
placing the crown on the head of his Mother with his _left_ hand,
blesses her with his right hand, and he appears to have laid aside
his own crown, which lies near him. The attitude of the Virgin is also
peculiar.[1]

[Footnote 1: In the same cathedral (which is dedicated to the Virgin
Mary) the circular window of the choir opposite to the mosaic exhibits
the Coronation. The design, by Donatello, is eminently fine and
classical.]

In a small altar-piece by Giotto (Florence, S. Croce), Christ and the
Virgin are seated together on a throne. He places the jewelled crown
on her head with _both_ hands, while she bends forward with her hands
crossed in her lap, and the softest expression in her beautiful face,
as if she as meekly resigned herself to this honour, as heretofore to
the angelic salutation which pronounced her "Blessed:" angels kneel
before the throne with censers and offerings. In another, by Giotto,
Christ wearing a coronet of gems is seated on a throne: the Virgin
_kneels_ before him with hands joined: twenty angels with musical
instruments attend around. In a "Coronation," by Piero Laurati,
the figures of Christ and the Virgin, seated together, resemble in
sentiment and expression those of Giotto. The angels are arranged in
a glory around, and the treatment is wholly typical.

One of the most beautiful and celebrated of the pictures of Angelico
da Fiesole is the "Coronation" now in the Louvre; formerly it stood
over the high altar of the Church of St. Dominick at Fiesole, where
Angelico had been nurtured, and made his profession as monk. The
composition is conceived as a grand regal ceremony, but the beings who
figure in it are touched with a truly celestial grace. The Redeemer,
crowned himself, and wearing the ermine mantle of an earthly monarch,
is seated on a magnificent throne, under a Gothic canopy, to which
there is an ascent of nine steps. He holds the crown, which he is in
the act of placing, with both hands, on the head of the Virgin, who
kneels before him, with features of the softest and most delicate
beauty, and an expression of divine humility. Her face, seen in
profile, is partly shaded by a long transparent veil, flowing over
her ample robe of a delicate crimson, beneath which is a blue tunic.
On each side a choir of lovely angels, clothed from head to foot in
spangled tunics of azure and rose-colour, with shining wings, make
celestial music, while they gaze with looks of joy and adoration
towards the principal group. Lower down on the right of the throne
are eighteen, and on the left twenty-two, of the principal patriarchs,
apostles, saints, and martyrs, among whom the worthies of Angelico's
own community, St. Dominick and St. Peter Martyr, are of course
conspicuous. At the foot of the throne kneel on one side St.
Augustine, St. Benedict, St. Charlemagne, the royal saint; St.
Nicholas; and St. Thomas Aquinas holding a pen (the great literary
saint of the Dominican order, and author of the Office of the Virgin);
on the left we have a group of virgins, St. Agnes, St. Catherine with
her wheel, St. Catherine of Siena, her habit spangled with stars;
St. Cecilia crowned with her roses, and Mary Magdalene, with her
long golden hair.[1] Beneath this great composition runs a border or
predella, in seven compartments, containing in the centre a Pieta, and
on each side three small subjects from the history of St. Dominick,
to whom the church, whence it was taken, is dedicated. The spiritual
beauty of the heads, the delicate tints of the colouring, an ineffable
charm of mingled brightness and repose shed over the whole, give to
this lovely picture an effect like that of a church hymn, sung at
some high festival by voices tuned in harmony--"blest voices, uttering
joy!"

[Footnote 1: See "Legends of the Monastic Orders," and "Sacred and
Legendary Art," for an account of all these personages.]

In strong contrast with the graceful Italian conception, is the German
"Coronation," now in the Wallerstein collection. (Kensington Pal.)
It is supposed to have been painted for Philip the Good, Duke of
Burgundy, either by Hans Hemling, or a painter not inferior to him.
Here the Virgin is crowned by the Trinity. She kneels, with an air of
majestic humility, and hands meekly folded on her bosom, attired in
simple blue drapery, before a semicircular throne, on which are seated
the Father and the Son, between them, with outspread wings, touching
their mouths, the Holy Dove. The Father a venerable figure, wears the
triple tiara, and holds the sceptre; Christ, with an expression of
suffering, holds in his left hand a crystal cross; and they sustain
between them a crown which they are about to place on the head of the
Virgin. Their golden throne is adorned with gems, and over it is a
glory of seraphim, with hair, faces, and plumage, all of a glowing
red. The lower part of this picture and the compartments on each side
are filled with a vast assemblage of saints, and martyrs, and holy
confessors: conspicuous among them we find the saints most popular
in Flanders and Burgundy--St. Adrian, St. George, St. Sebastian, St.
Maurice, clad in coats of mail and crowned with laurel, with other
kingly and warlike personages; St. Philip, the patron of Philip the
Good; St. Andrew, in whose honour he instituted the order of the
Golden Fleece: and a figure in a blue mantle with a ducal crown, one
of the three kings of Cologne, is supposed to represent Duke Philip
himself. It is, impossible by any description to do justice to this
wonderful picture, as remarkable for its elaborate workmanship, the
mysticism of the conception, the quaint elegance of the details,
and portrait-like reality of the faces, as that of Angelico for its
spiritual, tender, imaginative grace.

There is a "Coronation" by Vivarini (Acad. Venice), which may be
said to comprise in itself a whole system of theology. It is one
vast composition, not divided by compartments. In the centre is a
magnificent carved throne sustained by six pillars, which stand on
a lofty richly ornamented pedestal. On the throne are seated Christ
and the Virgin; he is crowned, and places with both hands a crown on
her head. Between them hovers the celestial Dove, and above them is
seen the Heavenly Father in likeness of "the Ancient of Days," who
paternally lays a hand on the shoulder of each. Around his head and
over the throne, are the nine choirs of angels, in separate groups.
First and nearest, hover the glowing seraphim and cherubim, winged,
but otherwise formless. Above these, the Thrones, holding the globe
of sovereignty; to the right, the Dominations, Virtues, and Powers; to
the left, the Princedoms, Archangels, and Angels. Below these, on each
side of the throne, the prophets and patriarchs of the Old Testament,
holding each a scroll. Below these the apostles on twelve thrones, six
on each side, each holding the Gospel. Below these, on each side, the
saints and martyrs. Below these, again, the virgins and holy women.
Under the throne, in the space formed by the pillars, is seen a
group of beautiful children (not angels), representing, I think, the
martyred Innocents. They bear the instruments of Christ's passion--the
cross, nails, spear, crown of thorns, &c. On the step below the
pedestal, and immediately in front, are seated the Evangelists and
doctors of the Church; on the right St. Matthew and St. Luke, and
behind them St. Ambrose and St. Augustine; on the left St. Mark and
St. John, and behind them St. Jerome and St. Gregory. (See "Sacred and
Legendary Art") Every part of this curious picture is painted with the
utmost care and delicacy: the children are exquisite, and the heads,
of which there are at least seventy without counting the angels, are
finished like miniatures.

This simple, and altogether typical representation of the Virgin
crowned by the Trinity in human form, is in a French carving of the
fifteenth century, and though ill drawn, there is considerable naivete
in the treatment. The Eternal Father wears, as is usual, the triple
tiara, the Son has the cross and the crown of thorns, and the Holy
Ghost is distinguished by the dove on his hand. All three sustain the
crown over the head of the kneeling Virgin, whose train is supported
by two angels.

In a bas-relief over a door of the cathedral at Treves, the subject is
very simply treated; both Christ and the Virgin are standing, which
is unusual, and behind each is an angel, also standing and holding a
crown.

Where not more than five or six saints are introduced as attendants
and accessories, they are usually the patron saints of the locality or
community, which may be readily distinguished. Thus,

1. In a "Coronation" by Sandro Botticelli, we find below, St. John the
Evangelist, St. Augustine, St. John Gualberto, St. Bernardo Cardinale.
It was painted for the Vallombrosian monks. (Fl. Gal.)

2. In a very fine example by Ghirlandajo, St. Dominick and St. Peter
Martyr are conspicuous: painted, of course, for the Dominicans.
(Paris, Louvre.)

3. In another, by Pinturicchio, St. Francis is a principal figure,
with St. Bonaventura and St. Louis of Toulouse; painted for the
Franciscans, or at least for a Franciscan pope, Sixtus IV. (Rome,
Vatican.)

4. In another, by Guido, the treatment differs from the early style.
The coronation above is small and seen as a vision; the saints below,
St. Bernard and St. Catherine, are life-size. It was painted for a
community of Bernardines, the monks of Monte Oliveto. (Bologna, Gal.)

5. In a beautiful little altar-piece by Lorenzo di Credi[1], the
Virgin is kneeling above, while Christ, seated, places the crown on
her head. A glory of red seraphim surround the two figures. Below are
the famous patron saints of Central Italy, St. Nicholas of Bari and
St. Julian of Rimini, St. Barbara and St. Christina. The St. Francis
and St. Antony, in the predella, show it to have been painted for a
Franciscan church or chapel, probably for the same church at Cestello
for which Lorenzo painted the St. Julian and St. Nicholas now in the
Louvre.

[Footnote 1: Once in the collection of Mr. Rogers; _v_. "Sacred and
Legendary Art."]

The "Coronation of the Virgin" by Annibale Carracci is in a spirit
altogether different, magnificently studied.[1] On high, upon a lofty
throne which extends across the whole picture from side to side, the
Virgin, a noble majestic creature, in the true Carracci style, is
seated in the midst as the principal figure, her hands folded on her
bosom. On the right hand sits the Father, on the left the Son; they
hold a heavenly crown surmounted by stars above her head. The locality
is the Empyreum. The audience consists of angels only, who circle
within circle, filling the whole space, and melting into an abyss of
light, chant hymns of rejoicing and touch celestial instruments of
music. This picture shows how deeply Annibale Carracci had studied
Correggio, in the magical chiaro-oscuro, and the lofty but somewhat
mannered grace of the figures.

[Footnote 1: This was also in the collection of Mr. Rogers.]

One of the latest examples I can point to is also one of the most
simple and grand in conception. (Madrid Gal.) It is that by Velasquez,
the finest perhaps of the very few devotional subjects painted by
him. We have here the three figures only, as large as life, filling
the region of glory, without angels, witnesses, or accessories of any
kind, except the small cherubim beneath; and the symmetrical treatment
gives to the whole a sort of sublime effect. But the heads have the
air of portraits: Christ has a dark, earnest, altogether Spanish
physiognomy; the Virgin has dark hair; and the _Padre Eterno_, with
a long beard, has a bald head,--a gross fault in taste and propriety;
because, though the loose beard and flowing white hair may serve to
typify the "Ancient of Days," baldness expresses not merely age, but
the infirmity of age.

Rubens, also, painted a "Coronation" with all his own lavish
magnificence of style for the Jesuits at Brussels. After the time
of Velasquez and Rubens, the "Immaculate Conception" superseded the
"Coronation."

*       *       *       *       *

To enter further into the endless variations of this charming and
complex subject would lead us through all the schools of art from
Giotto to Guido. I have said enough to render it intelligible
and interesting, and must content myself with one or two closing
_memoranda_.

1. The dress of the Virgin in a "Coronation" is generally splendid,
too like the coronation robes of an earthly queen,--it is a "raiment
of needlework,"--"a vesture of gold wrought about with divers
colours"--generally blue, crimson, and white, adorned with gold, gems,
and even ermine. In the "Coronation" by Filippo Lippi, at Spoleto, she
wears a white robe embroidered with golden suns. In a beautiful little
"Coronation" in the Wallerstein collection (Kensington Pal.) she wears
a white robe embroidered with suns and moons, the former red with
golden rays, the latter blue with coloured rays,--perhaps in allusion
to the text so often applied in reference to her, "a woman clothed
with the _sun_," &c. (Rev. xii. 1, or Cant. vi. 10.)

2. In the set of cartoons for the tapestries of the Sistine Chapel
(Kugler's Handbook, ii. 394), as originally prepared by Raphael,
we have the foundation, the heaven-bestowed powers, the trials and
sufferings of the early Church, exhibited in the calling of St. Peter,
the conversion of St. Paul, the acts and miracles of the apostles, the
martyrdom of St. Stephen; and the series closed with the Coronation
of the Virgin, placed over the altar, as typical of the final triumph
of the Church, the completion and fulfilment of all the promises made
to man, set forth in the exaltation and union of the mortal with the
immortal, when the human Mother and her divine Son are reunited and
seated on the same throne. Raphael placed on one side of the celestial
group, St. John the Baptist, representing sanctification through the
rite of baptism; and on the other, St. Jerome, the general symbol of
sanctification through faith and repentance. The cartoon of this grand
symbolical composition, in which all the figures were colossal, is
unhappily lost; the tapestry is missing from the Vatican collection;
two old engravings, however, exist, from which some idea may be formed
of the original group. (Passavant's Rafael, ii. 258.)

3. It will be interesting to remember that the earliest existing
impression taken from an engraved metal plate, is a "Coronation of the
Virgin." Maso Finiguerra, a skilful goldsmith and worker in niello,
living at Florence in 1434, was employed to execute a pix (the small
casket in which the consecrated wafer of the sacrament is deposited),
and he decorated it with a representation of the Coronation in
presence of saints and angels, in all about thirty figures, minutely
and exquisitely engraved on the silver face. Whether Finiguerra was
the first worker in niello to whom it occurred to fill up the lines
cut in the silver with a black fluid, and then by laying on it a piece
of damp paper, and forcibly rubbing it, take off the fac-simile of his
design and try its effect before the final process,--this we can not
ascertain; we only know that the impression of his "Coronation" is
the earliest specimen known to exist, and gave rise to the practice
of cutting designs on plates of copper (instead of silver), for the
purpose of multiplying impressions of them. The pix finished by Maso
in 1452 is now in the Florence Gallery in the "Salle des Bronzes." The
invaluable print, first of its species, exists in the National Library
at Paris. There is a very exact fac-simile of it in Otley's "History
of Engraving," Christ and the Virgin are here seated together on
a lofty architectural throne: her hands are crossed on her bosom,
and she bends her meek veiled head to receive the crown, which her
Son, who wears a triple tiara, places on her brow. The saints most
conspicuous are St. John the Baptist, patron of Florence and of the
church for which the pix was executed, and a female saint, I believe
St. Reparata, both standing; kneeling in front are St. Cosmo and St.
Damian, the patrons of the Medici family, then paramount at Florence.
(Sacred and Legendary Art.)

4. In an illuminated "Office of the Virgin," I found a version of
this subject which must be rare, and probably confined to miniatures.
Christ is seated on a throne and the Virgin kneels before him; he
bends forwards, and tenderly takes her clasped hands in both his own.
An empty throne is at the right hand of Christ, over which hovers
an angel bearing a crown. This is the moment which _precedes_
the Coronation, as the group already described in the S.
Maria-in-Trastevere exhibits the moment which _follows_ the
Coronation.

5. Finally, we must bear in mind that those effigies in which the
Madonna is holding her Child, while angels place a crown upon her
head, do not represent THE CORONATION properly so called, but merely
the Virgin honoured as Mother of Christ and Queen of Heaven (_Mater
Christi, Regina Coeli_); and that those representations of the
Coronation which conclude a series of the life of the Virgin, and
surmount her death-bed or her tomb, are historical and dramatic rather
than devotional and typical. Of this historical treatment there are
beautiful examples from Cimabue down to Raphael, which will be noticed
hereafter in their proper place.




THE VIRGIN OF MERCY.


Our Lady of Succour. _Ital._ La Madonna di Misericordia. _Fr._ Notre
Dame de Misericorde. _Ger._ Maria Mutter des Erbarmens. _Sp._ Nuestra
Senora de Grazia.

When once the Virgin had been exalted and glorified in the celestial
paradise, the next and the most natural result was, that she should be
regarded as being in heaven the most powerful of intercessors, and on
earth a most benign and ever-present protectress. In the mediaeval idea
of Christ, there was often something stern; the Lamb of God who died
for the sins of the world, is also the inexorable Judge of the quick
and the dead. When he shows his wounds, it is as if a vindictive
feeling was supposed to exist; as if he were called upon to remember
in judgment the agonies and the degradation to which he had been
exposed below for the sake of wicked ungrateful men. In a Greek "Day
of Judgment," cited by Didron, Moses holds up a scroll, on which is
written, "Behold Him whom ye crucified," while the Jews are dragged
into everlasting fire. Everywhere is the sentiment of vengeance;
Christ himself is less a judge than an avenger. Not so the Virgin;
she is represented as all mercy, sympathy, and benignity. In some of
the old pictures of the Day of Judgment, she is seated by the side
of Christ, on an equality with him, and often in an attitude of
deprecation, as if adjuring him, to relent: or her eyes are turned on
the redeemed souls, and she looks away from the condemned as if unable
to endure the sight of their doom. In other pictures she is lower than
Christ, but always on his right hand, and generally seated; while St.
John the Baptist, who is usually placed opposite to her on the left
of Christ, invariably stands or kneels. Instead of the Baptist, it is
sometimes, but rarely, John the Evangelist, who is the pendant of the
Virgin.

In the Greek representations of the Last Judgment, a river of fire
flows from under the throne of Christ to devour and burn up the
wicked.[1] In western art the idea is less formidable,--Christ is
not at once judge and executioner; but the sentiment is always
sufficiently terrible; "the angels and all the powers of heaven
tremble before him." In the midst of these terrors, the Virgin,
whether kneeling, or seated, or standing, always appears as a gentle
mediator, a, supplicant for mercy. In the "Day of Judgment," as
represented in the "Hortus Deliciarum," [2] we read inscribed under
her figure the words "_Maria, Filio suo pro Ecclesia supplicat_."
In a very fine picture by Martin Schoen (Schleissheim Gal.), it is
the Father, who, with a sword and three javelins in his hand, sits
as the avenging judge; near him Christ; while the Virgin stands in
the foreground, looking up to her Son with an expression of tender
supplication, and interceding, as it appears, for the sinners kneeling
round her, and whose imploring looks are directed to _her_. In the
well-known fresco by Andrea Ortagna (Pisa, Campo Santo), Christ and
the Virgin sit throned above, each in a separate aureole, but equally
glorified. Christ, pointing with one hand to the wound in his side,
raises the other in a threatening attitude, and his attention is
directed to the wicked, whom he hurls into perdition. The Virgin,
with one hand pressed to her bosom, looks to him with an air of
supplication. Both figures are regally attired, and wear radiant
crowns; and the twelve apostles attend them, seated on each side.

[Footnote 1: Didron, "Iconographie Chretienne;" and in the mosaic of
the Last Judgment, executed by Byzantine artists, in the cathedral at
Torcello.]

[Footnote 2: A celebrated illuminated MS. (date about 1159 to 1175),
preserved in the Library at Strasburg.]

*       *       *       *       *

In the centre group of Michael Angelo's "Last Judgment," we have the
same leading _motif_, but treated in a very different feeling. Christ
stands before us in figure and mien like a half-naked athlete; his
left hand rejects, his right hand threatens, and his whole attitude
is as utterly devoid of dignity as of grace. I have often wondered
as I have looked at this grand and celebrated work, what could be
Michael Angelo's idea of Christ. He who was so good, so religious,
so pure-minded, and so high-minded, was deficient in humility and
sympathy; if his morals escaped, his imagination was corrupted by the
profane and pagan influences of his time. His conception of Christ is
here most unchristian, and his conception of the Virgin is not much
better. She is grand in form, but the expression is too passive.
She looks down and seems to shrink; but the significance of the
attitude,--the hand pressed to the maternal bosom,--given to her by
the old painters, is lost.

In a "Last Judgment" by Rubens, painted for the Jesuits of Brussels
(Brussels; Musee), the Virgin extends her robe over the world, as if
to shield mankind from the wrath of her Son; pointing, at the same
time, significantly to her bosom, whence He derived his earthly life.
The daring bad taste, and the dramatic power of this representation,
are characteristic alike of the painter, the time, and the community
for which the picture was painted.

*       *       *       *       *

More beautiful and more acceptable to our feelings are those graceful
representations of the Virgin as dispenser of mercy on earth; as
protectress and patroness either of all Christendom, or of some
particular locality, country, or community. In such pictures she
stands with outstretched arms, crowned with a diadem, or in some
instances simply veiled, her ample robe, extended on each side, is
held up by angels, while under its protecting folds are gathered
worshippers and votaries of all ranks and ages--men, women,
children,--kings, nobles, ecclesiastics,--the poor, the lame, the
sick. Or if the picture be less universal in its significance,
dedicated perhaps by some religious order or charitable brotherhood,
we see beneath her robe an assemblage of monks and nuns, or a troop of
young orphans or redeemed prisoners. Such a representation is styled a
_Misericordia_.

In a picture by Fra Filippo Lippi (Berlin Gal.), the Madonna of Mercy
extends her protecting mantle over thirty-five kneeling figures,
the faces like portraits, none elevated or beautiful, but the whole
picture as an example of the subject most striking.

A very beautiful and singular representation of the Virgin of Mercy
without the Child, I found in the collection of Herr v. Quandt, of
Dresden. She stands with hands folded over her bosom, and wrapped in
ample white drapery, without ornament of any kind; over her head, a
veil of transparent gauze of a brown colour, such as, from various
portraits of the time, appears to have been then a fashion. The
expression of the face is tender and contemplative, almost sad; and
the whole figure, which is life-size, is inexpressibly refined and
dignified. The following inscription is on the dark background to the
right of the Virgin:--

IMAGO
BEATAE MARIAE VIRGINIS
QUAE
MENS. AUGUST. MDXXXIII.
APPARUIT
MIRACULOR. OPERATIONE
CONCURSU POP.
CELEBERRIM.

This beautiful picture was brought from Brescia to Vienna by a
picture-dealer, and purchased by Herr v. Quandt. It was painted by
Moretto of Brescia, of whom Lanzi truly says that his sacred subjects
express _la compunzione, la pieta, la carita istessa_; and this
picture is an instance. But by whom dedicated, for what especial
mercy, or in what church, I could not ascertain.[1]

[Footnote 1: I possess a charming drawing of the head by Fraulein
Louise Seidler of Weimar, whose feeling for early religious art is
shown in her own works, as well as in the beautiful copies she has
made of others.]

*       *       *       *       *

It is seldom that the Madonna di Misericordia appears without the
Child in her arms; her maternity is supposed to be one element in her
sympathy with suffering humanity. I will add, however, to the examples
already given, one very celebrated instance.

The picture entitled the "Misericordia di Lucca" is famous in the
history of art. (Lucca. S. Romano.) It is the most important work
of Fra Bartolomeo, and is dated 1515, two years before his death.
The Virgin, a grand and beautiful figure, stands alone on a raised
platform, with her arms extended, and looking up to heaven. The ample
folds of her robe are held open by two angels. Beneath and round her
feet are various groups in attitudes of supplication, who look up to
her, as she looks up to heaven. On one side the donor of the picture
is presented by St. Dominick. Above, in a glory, is the figure of
Christ surrounded by angels, and seeming to bend towards his mother.
The expression in the heads, the dignified beneficence of the Virgin,
the dramatic feeling in the groups, particularly the women and
children, justify the fame of this picture as one of the greatest of
the productions of mind.[1]

[Footnote 1: According to the account in Murray's "Handbook,"
this picture was dedicated by the noble family of Montecanini, and
represents the Virgin interceding for the Lucchesi during the wars
with Florence. But I confess I am doubtful of this interpretation, and
rather think it refers to the pestilence, which, about 1512, desolated
the whole of the north of Italy. Wilkie, who saw this picture in 1825,
speaks of the workmanship with the enthusiasm of a workman.]

*       *       *       *       *

There is yet another version of this subject, which deserves notice
from the fantastic grace of the conception. As in early Christian Art,
our Saviour was frequently portrayed as the Good Shepherd, so, among
the later Spanish fancies, we find his Mother represented as the
Divine Shepherdess. In a picture painted by Alonzo Miguel de Tobar
(Madrid Gal. 226), about the beginning of the eighteenth century,
we find the Virgin Mary seated under a tree, in guise of an Arcadian
pastorella, wearing a broad-brimmed hat, encircled by a glory, a crook
in her hand, while she feeds her flock with the mystical roses. The
beauty of expression in the head of the Virgin is such as almost to
redeem the quaintness of the religious conceit; the whole picture is
described as worthy of Murillo. It was painted for a Franciscan church
at Madrid, and the idea became so popular, that we find it multiplied
and varied in French and German prints of the last century; the
original picture remains unequalled for its pensive poetical grace;
but it must be allowed that the idea, which at first view strikes from
its singularity, is worse than questionable in point of taste, and
will hardly bear repetition.

There are some ex-voto pictures of the Madonna of Mercy, which record
individual acts of gratitude. One, for instance, by Nicolo Alunno
(Rome, Pal. Colonna), in which the Virgin, a benign and dignified
creature, stretches forth her sceptre from above, and rebukes the ugly
fiend of Sin, about to seize a boy. The mother kneels on one side,
with eyes uplifted, in faith and trembling supplication. The same idea
I have seen repeated in a picture by Lanfranco.

*       *       *       *       *

The innumerable votive pictures which represent the Madonna di
Misericordia with the Child in her arms, I shall notice hereafter.
They are in Catholic countries the usual ornaments of charitable
Institutions and convents of the Order of Mercy; and have, as I cannot
but think, a very touching significance.




THE MATER DOLOROSA.


_Ital._ La Madre di Dolore. L' Addolorata. _Fr._ Notre Dame da Pitie.
La Vierge de Douleur. _Sp_. Nuestra Senora de Dolores _Ger._ Die
Schmerzhafte Mutter.

One of the most important of these devotional subjects proper to the
Madonna is the "Mourning Mother," the _Mater Dolorosa_, in which her
character is that of the mother of the crucified Redeemer; the mother
of the atoning Sacrifice; the queen of martyrs; the woman whose bosom
was pierced with a sharp sword; through whose sorrow the world was
saved, whose anguish was our joy, and to whom the Roman Catholic
Christians address their prayers as consoler of the afflicted, because
she had herself tasted of the bitterest of all earthly sorrow, the
pang of the agonized mother for the loss of her child.

In this character we have three distinct representations of the
Madonna.

MATER DOLOROSA. In the first she appears alone, a seated or standing
figure, often the head or half length only; the hands clasped, the
head bowed in sorrow, tears streaming from the heavy eyes, and the
whole expression intensely mournful. The features are properly
those of a woman in middle age; but in later times the sentiment of
beauty predominated over that of the mother's agony; and I have seen
the sublime Mater Dolorosa transformed into a merely beautiful and
youthful maiden, with such an air of sentimental grief as might serve
for the loss of a sparrow.

Not so with the older heads; even those of the Carracci and the
Spanish school have often a wonderful depth of feeling.

It is common in such representations to represent the Virgin with a
sword in her bosom, and even with _seven_ swords in allusion to
the _seven_ sorrows. This very material and palpable version of the
allegorical prophecy (Luke ii, 35) has been found extremely effective
as an appeal to the popular feelings, so that there are few Roman
Catholic churches without such a painful and literal interpretation
of the text. It occurs perpetually in prints, and there is a fine
example after Vandyck; sometimes the swords are placed round her head;
but there is no instance of such a figure from the best period of
religious art, and it must be considered as anything but artistic: in
this case, the more materialized and the more matter of fact, the more
_unreal_.

*       *       *       *       *

STABAT MATER. A second representation of the _Madre di Dolore_ is that
figure of the Virgin which, from the very earliest times, was placed
on the right of the Crucifix, St. John the Evangelist being invariably
on the left. I am speaking here of the _crucifix_ as a wholly ideal
and mystical emblem of our faith in a crucified Saviour; not of
the _crucifixion_ as an event, in which the Virgin is an actor and
spectator, and is usually fainting in the arms of her attendants. In
the ideal subject she is merely an ideal figure, at once the mother
of Christ, and the personified Church. This, I think, is evident from
those very ancient carvings, and examples in stained glass, in which
the Virgin, as the Church, stands on one side of the cross, trampling
on a female figure which personifies Judaism or the synagogue. Even
when the allegory is less palpable, we feel that the treatment is
wholly religious and poetical.

The usual attitude of the _Mater Dolorosa_ by the crucifix is that of
intense but resigned sorrow; the hands clasped, the head declined and
shaded by a veil, the figure closely wrapped in a dark blue or violet
mantle. In some instances a more generally religious and ideal cast is
given to the figure; she stands with outspread arms, and looking up;
not weeping, but in her still beautiful face a mingled expression of
faith and anguish. This is the true conception of the sublime hymn,

"Stabat Mater Dolorosa
Juxta crucem lachrymosa
Dum pendebat filius."

LA PIETA. The third, and it is the most important and most beautiful
of all as far as the Virgin is concerned, is the group called the
PIETA, which, when strictly devotional, consists only of the Virgin
with her dead Son in her arms, or on her lap, or lying at her feet;
in some instances with lamenting angels, but no other personages.
This group has been varied in a thousand ways; no doubt the two most
perfect conceptions are those of Michael Angelo and Raphael; the first
excelling in sublimity, the latter in pathos. The celebrated marble
group by Michael Angelo stands in the Vatican in a chapel to the
right as we enter. The Virgin is seated; the dead Saviour lies across
the knees of his mother; she looks down on him in mingled sorrow
and resignation, but the majestic resignation predominates. The
composition of Raphael exists only as a print; but the flimsy paper,
consecrated through its unspeakable beauty, is likely to be as lasting
as the marble. It represents the Virgin, standing with outstretched
arms, and looking up with an appealing agonized expression towards
heaven; before her, on the earth, lies extended the form of the
Saviour. In tenderness, dignity, simplicity, and tragic pathos,
nothing can exceed this production; the head of the Virgin in
particular is regarded as a masterpiece, so far exceeding in delicacy
of execution every other work of Marc Antonio, that some have thought
that Raphael himself took the burin from his hand, and touched himself
that face of quiet woe.

Another example of wonderful beauty is the Pieta by Francia, in
our National Gallery. The form of Christ lies extended before his
mother; a lamenting angel sustains the head, another is at the feet:
the Virgin, with eyes red and heavy with weeping, looks out of the
picture. There needs no visible sword in her bosom to tell what
anguish has pierced that maternal heart.

There is another Pieta, by Michael Angelo, quite a different
conception. The Virgin sits at the foot of the cross; before her, and
half-sustained by her knees, lies the form of the dead Saviour, seen
in front; his arms are held up by two angels (unwinged, as is usual
with Michael Angelo). The Virgin looks up to heaven with an appealing
expression; and in one engraving of this composition the cross is
inscribed with the words, "Tu non pensi quanta sangue costa." There is
no painting by Michael Angelo himself, but many copies and engravings
of the drawing. A beautiful small copy, by Marcello Venusti, is in the
Queen's Gallery.

There is yet another version of the Pieta, quite mystical and
devotional in its significance,--but, to my feeling, more painful and
material than poetical. It is variously treated; for example:--1.
The dead Redeemer is seen half-length within the tomb; his hands are
extended to show his wounds; his eyes are closed, his head declined,
his bleeding brow encircled by thorns. On one side is the Virgin, on
the other St. John the Evangelist, in attitudes of profound grief
and commiseration. 2. The dead form, half emerging from the tomb, is
sustained in the arms of the Mater Dolorosa. St. John the Evangelist
on the other side. There are sometimes angels.

The Pieta thus conceived as a purely religious and ideal impersonation
of the atoning Sacrifice, is commonly placed over the altar of
the sacrament, and in many altar-pieces it forms the centre of the
predella, just in front where the mass is celebrated, or on the door
of the tabernacle, where the Host is deposited.

When, with the Mater Dolorosa and St. John, Mary Magdalene is
introduced with her dishevelled hair, the group ceases to be properly
a Pieta, and becomes a representation rather than a symbol.

*       *       *       *       *

There are also examples of a yet more complex but still perfectly
ideal and devotional treatment, in which the Mourning Mother is
attended by saints.