Mary Magdalene - Iconographic Studies From The Middle Ages To The Baroque

Mary Magdalene, Iconographic Studies from
the Middle Ages to the Baroque

Studies in Religion
and the Arts
Editorial Board
James Najarian
Boston College
Eric Ziolkowski
Lafayette College
VOLUME 7
The titles published in this series are listed at brill.com/sart

Mary Magdalene, Iconographic Studies
from the Middle Ages to the Baroque
Edited by
Michelle A. Erhardt and Amy M. Morris
Leiden • boston
2012
Cover illustration: Lucas van Leyden, Christ as a Gardener Appearing to Mary Magdalene, 1519,
engraving. British Museum, London. Photo: The Trustees of the British Museum.
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Mary Magdalene, Iconographic Studies from the Middle Ages to the Baroque / edited by Michelle
A. Erhardt and Amy M. Morris.
pages cm — (Studies in religion and the arts ; 7)
Includes bibliographical references and index.
ISBN 978-90-04-23195-5 (hardback : alk. paper)
1. Mary Magdalene, Saint—Art. I. Erhardt, Michelle A., editor of compilation. II. Morris, Amy M.,
editor of compilation.
N8080.M33M38 2012
704.9’4863—dc23
2012028843
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ISSN 1877-3192
ISBN 978-90-04-23195-5 (hardback)
ISBN 978-90-04-23224-2 (e-book)
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This book is dedicated to our children,
Paulina, Maureen, Josephine and Henry
Contents
Acknowledgements ........................................................................................ xi
List of Contributors ........................................................................................ xiii
List of Illustrations .......................................................................................... xix
Foreword ........................................................................................................... xxxi
Susan Haskins
Introduction ..................................................................................................... 1
Michelle Erhardt and Amy Morris
Part one
Iconographic Invention in the Life of Mary Magdalene
1 The Magdalene as Mirror: Trecento Franciscan Imagery in

the Guidalotti-Rinuccini Chapel, Florence ....................................... 21
Michelle A. Erhardt
2 Mary Magdalene and Her Dear Sister: Innovation in the Late

Medieval Mural Cycle of Santa Maddalena in Rencio
(Bolzano) ..................................................................................................... 45
Joanne W. Anderson
3 The German Iconography of the Saint Magdalene Altarpiece:

Documenting Its Context ....................................................................... 75
Amy M. Morris
Part two
Mary Magdalene as the Reformed Sinner
4 The Printed Penitent: Magdalene Imagery and Prostitution

Reform in Early Modern Italian Chapbooks and Broadsheets .... 107
Rachel Geschwind
viii contents
5 Tintoretto’s Holy Hermits at the Scuola Grande di San Rocco 135

Elizabeth Carroll Consavari
6 Irony and Realism in the Iconography of Caravaggio’s

Penitent Magdalene ................................................................................ 161
Patrick Hunt
part three
Noli me tangere: Mary Magdalene, the Witness
7 The Gaze in the Garden: Mary Magdalene in Noli me tangere 189

Barbara Baert
8 Michelangelo’s Noli me tangere for Vittoria Colonna, and the

Changing Status of Women in Renaissance Italy ........................ 223
Lisa M. Rafanelli
9 Woman, Why Weepest Thou? Rembrandt’s 1638 Noli me

tangere as a Dutch Calvinist Visual Typology ............................... 249
Bobbi Dykema
part four
Patronage and Privilege:
the Magdalene as Guardian and Advocate
10 The Magdalene and ‘Madame’: Piety, Politics, and

Personal Agenda in Louise of Savoy’s Vie de la Magdalene ...... 269
Barbara J. Johnston
1 1 Mary Magdalene Between Public Cult and Personal

Devotion in Correggio’s Noli me tangere ........................................ 295
Margaret A. Morse
12 Reflections on a Glass Madeleine Pénitente ................................... 315

Jane Eade
contents ix
part five
Fusion and Flexibility: the Magdalene’s Role Transformed
13 Exorcism in the Iconography of Mary Magdalene ......................... 341

Andrea Begel
14 “Woman, Why Weepest Thou?” Mary Magdalene, the Virgin

Mary and the Transformative Power of Holy Tears in Late
Medieval Devotional Painting ............................................................ 361
Vibeke Olson
15 Mary Magdalene and the Iconography of Domesticity .............. 383

Annette LeZotte
16 Marketing Mary Magdalene in Early Modern Northern

European Prints and Paintings .......................................................... 399
Michelle Moseley-Christian
Bibliography ..................................................................................................... 421
Index ................................................................................................................... 449
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
The foundations for this anthology were laid seven years ago at the annual
meeting of the Renaissance Society of America in Cambridge, England.
There were two especially precipitous events that occurred at that confer-
ence that gave us the confidence to pursue such an extensive undertaking
as this. First of all, from the numerous abstracts that we received for our
session on Magdalene iconography and the quality of presentations, we
learned that there was still much that remained to be said on this topic
(and still is). The second event that shaped the direction of this anthol-
ogy at that RSA meeting was seeing Susan Haskins, one of the leading
Magdalene scholars, in the audience. Not only did Susan encourage us to
publish on Magdalene iconography, she remained a sounding board for
our ideas over the years. We are indebted to Susan not only for inspir-
ing our interest in Magdalene research, but also for her support of this
project, her careful reading of the manuscript, and her foreword to the
anthology. We also owe a great debt to the authors who contributed to
this manuscript. We thank them for generously sharing their knowledge
and passion for the Magdalene and for enduring the numerous revisions
and incarnations of this manuscript with patience and never-ending faith
in this project’s importance.
This anthology would not have been possible without some impor-
tant people and institutions. At Brill, we are deeply indebted to Maarten
Frieswijk, Editor of Religious Studies, who was our guide and resource
as we transformed these essays into a coherent monograph. In addition,
we would like to thank the editorial board at Brill for their continued
support, and to Wendy Shamier, who early on saw value and promise in
this project. We are also grateful to the anonymous peer reviewer who
offered beneficial suggestions and helped us shape the final vision for
the anthology. We would also like to thank Sarah Blick and Laura Gel-
fand who offered us sage advice at critical junctures in the writing of this
anthology. Also significant to this project was Nicholas Dease, who con-
tributed his graphic design talents to our images. In addition, we would
like to acknowledge the following people who supported us throughout
the duration of this project in both large and small ways; our colleagues
in our respective departments, particularly Elaine Viel. Financial support
for aspects of this project was provided through faculty grants awarded
xii acknowledgements
by the Office of the Dean at Christopher Newport University. Since this

project is distantly rooted in our dissertations on Magdalene cycles, we
would like to thank the various institutions and sponsors, both nationally
and internationally, who helped make our research possible.
As graduates of the doctoral program at Indiana University, it is with
pride that we acknowledge those professors who shaped us as scholars
and inspired us as students, namely, Diane Reilly, Gene Kleinbauer, Molly
Faries, and Bruce Cole. Our greatest thanks, however, is to our families
(both nuclear and extended), without whose love and support this book
would never have been a reality. We are both fortunate to have support-
ive spouses, Seth Merritt and Kevin Salzman, who not only encouraged
us in our career paths, but made many sacrifices over the years in sup-
port of this project. With kindness, patience, and humor, they read this
manuscript, shared their observations and insights with us, and supported
us as we attempted to balance the challenges of being mothers, scholars,
and professors. We also thank our four beautiful children, Paulina, Mau-
reen, Josephine, and Henry who have patiently stood (or crawled) on the
sidelines while we completed one last sentence and never complained
about being dragged to churches and museums instead of amusement
parks. To them we dedicate this manuscript. May you grow up with Mary
Magdalene watching over you, knowing always how much we love and
cherish you.
Lastly, this anthology is a testament to the bonds of friendship. Under-
taking a project of this nature can truly test even the best of friends. In
our case it made our friendship stronger. It is an honor and a privilege to
have shared this dream together.
LIST OF CONTRIBUTORS
Joanne Anderson is Visiting Lecturer of Art History at the University of

Warwick where her research centers on iconographical development,
modes of female patronage, and travelling artistic workshops in the con-
text of parish and peripheral communities. Her Arts and Humanities
Research Council (AHRC) funded doctoral dissertation focused on the
visual culture of Mary Magdalene in northern Italy and the pre-Alps dur-
ing the late Middle Ages and early Renaissance. Currently, she serves as
an Editorial Assistant for The Art Bulletin and is preparing a monograph
on Mary Magdalene.
Barbara Baert studied Art History and Philosophy at the Catholic Uni-

versity, Leuven and the University of Siena, Italy. In 2006 she founded
the Iconology Research Group, an international and interdisciplinary
platform for the study of the interpretation of images (www.iconology
researchgroup.org). Her research also focuses on Sacred Topography,
Visual Anthropology, Art-relics-devotion, Art Theory and the interspace
between Art and Art Praxis. Her recent books include Fluid Flesh. The
Body, Religion and the Visual Arts (2009) and Interspaces between Word,
Gaze and Touch. The Bible and the Visual Medium in the Middle Ages. Col-
lected essays on Noli me tangere, the Woman with the Haemorrhage, the
Head of John the Baptist (2011).
Andrea Begel is an Assistant Professor of Art History at Adelphi University

where she teaches Italian and Northern Renaissance art. She received her
PhD in Art History from Columbia University where her research focused
on exorcism in medieval and Renaissance art, as well as the represen-
tation of saint’s lives and miracles. She recently published an article on
Giotto di Bondone’s representation of demons in the upper church of San
Francesco, Assisi.
Elizabeth Carroll Consavari currently teaches at Stanford University. She

has written articles for The Burlington Magazine, Arte Documento, and
Philolog (online publication, Stanford University). She is currently work-
ing on a book manuscript, Rivalling Bellini: Negotiating Artistic Exchange
Between Early Modern Venice and Vicenza. In addition, she is co-editing
xiv list of contributors
with Stephanie Miller and Erin J. Campbell, New Perspectives on the Early
Modern Italian Domestic Interior, 1400–1700: People, Spaces, Objects. This
anthology provides a historical perspective on the questions, “What is
home?” and “What is the domestic?” through selected case studies of the
early modern Italian domestic interior across regions, classes, and time.
Bobbi Dykema is an independent scholar who has taught at Hamline Uni-

versity, Pacific School of Religion, United Theological Seminary of the
Twin Cities, the University of Washington Experimental College, and the
Graduate Theological Union. Her 2010 dissertation, “Lucas Cranach
the Elder, Martin Luther, and the Passional Christi und Antichristi: Propa-
ganda and Prayer in an Early Lutheran Flugschrift,” received the Graduate
Theological Union Outstanding Dissertation Award and was supported
by fellowships from the Deutsche Akademische Austausch Dienst and
Herzog August Bibliothek. Her most recent publication, “Preaching the
Book of Creation: Memory and Moralization in Medieval Bestiaries,”
appeared in the most recent issue of Peregrinations journal, and she has
a chapter forthcoming in a book on methodologies specific to sacred and
religious art.
Jane Eade is an Associate Curator of 16th-century art at the National

Portrait Gallery in London and an Associate Tutor in Art History at the
University of Sussex. She has broad research interests in the interaction
between European religious history and visual culture, particularly por-
traiture. Her most recently publications include: “Power and Sacred Art
and The Penitent Magdalen,” in Baroque 1620–1800: Style in the Age of
Magnificence (2009); “Richard III and Robert Devereaux,” in Searching for
Shakespeare (2006); and “The Triptych Portrait in England, 1575–1646,” in
The British Art Journal (2005).
Michelle Erhardt is Associate Professor of Art History and Chair of the

Department of Fine Art and Art History at Christopher Newport Uni-
versity. She has published on Franciscan art of fourteenth century Italy,
Magdalene imagery and the role of female saints in medieval and Renais-
sance art, particularly within a Franciscan context. Her two most recent
articles include, “The Immaculate Kiss Beneath the Golden Gate: The
Influence of John Duns Scotus on Florentine Painting of the 14th century,”
in Franciscan Studies (2008) and “Preparing the Mind. Preparing the Soul.
The Fusion of Franciscan Thought into the Daily Lives of Friars in the
Sacristy Decoration of Santa Croce, Florence,” published in Push Me, Pull
list of contributors xv
You: Physical and Spatial Interaction in Late Medieval and Renaissance Art
(2011). Currently she is working on images of Franciscan missionaries and
martyrdoms and how they influenced early conceptions of the ‘other’ as
well as the role of the order outside of Europe.
Rachel Geschwind is an independent scholar who resides in Kansas City

where she teaches at several local colleges. She received her PhD from
Case Western Reserve University where studied the role of Magdalene
imagery and its relationship to prostitution reform in Venice and Rome
from 1500–1700. Her current research interests vary from subjects of the
Spanish Baroque to American Photography in the 1950s. Today she is cur-
rently involved with a research project involving German Renaissance
prints depicting the Battle of the Pants, which combines her love of gen-
der studies, costume history, and social class relations.
Barbara Johnston is an Assistant Professor of Art History at Columbus

State University. Her current research, an outgrowth of her dissertation
from Florida State University, centers on the religious and political com-
plexities inherent in the Vie de la Magdalene, a manuscript depicting
the life of Mary Magdalene that was created in 1516 for Louise of Savoy,
mother of the French king Francis I. She has been the recipient of numer-
ous grants and awards, including the Appleton Teaching Fellowship, the
Penelope Mason Dissertation Fellowship at Florida State University and
a research grant from the Renaissance Society of America. Her publica-
tions include Baroque Prints: Selections from the Collection of Dorothy and
William Walmsley, a catalogue for an exhibition she co-curated for the
Florida State University Museum of Art, and “Rubens’s Deianira and the
Fury: A New Interpretation Based on Seneca’s Hercules Oetaeus,” which
was published in Athanor.
Patrick Hunt received his PhD from UCL, University of London in 1991.
Currently, he is in his twentieth year at Stanford University where he has
taught Humanities since 1993. He is also an Associate at the Center for
Medieval and Renaissance Studies at University of California, Los Angeles
(UCLA). He is the author of many published articles and twelve books,
including Caravaggio (2004), Rembrandt (2006), Myths for All Time (2008),
Myth and Art in Ekphrasis (2010), Dante—Critical Insights: Inferno (2011)
and Puer Natus Est: Art of Christmas (2011). The National Geographic
Society has sponsored some of his archaeology research (2007–2008). He
founder and editor of Electrum Magazine: Why the Past Matters.
xvi list of contributors
Annette LeZotte is Associate Professor of Art History at Wichita State Uni-

versity. Her areas of research interest include the iconographical and tech-
nical study of Early Netherlandish paintings, the analysis of audience and
perception issues relating to late medieval and early Renaissance devo-
tional art, and the sociological history of the decorative arts. She is author
of the book The Home Setting in Early Netherlandish Paintings: A Statis-
tical and Iconographical Analysis of Fifteenth and Early Sixteenth-Century
Domestic Imagery and is currently working on her next book Constructing
and Promoting Catholic Devotional Imagery: The Post-Reformation Painting
of Joos van Cleve.
Amy Morris is Assistant Professor of Art History at the University of

Nebraska Omaha. She has published on Lucas Moser’s Saint Magdalene
Altarpiece and her research interests focus on other topics current in
the field of Northern Renaissance art, including indulgence altarpieces,
patronage, Magdalene iconography, and artistic self-awareness. For the
Encyclopedia of Medieval Pilgrimage she wrote essays on the pilgrimage
function of the Saint Magdalene Altarpiece and indulgence prints. Cur-
rently she is working on a monograph on Lucas Moser.
Margaret Morse is Assistant Professor of Art History at Augustana College

in Rock Island, Illinois. She is the author of “Creating Sacred Space: The
Religious Visual Culture of the Renaissance Venetian casa” in Renaissance
Studies (2007) and the forthcoming essay, “From Chiesa to Casa and Back
Again: The Exchange of Public and Private in Domestic Devotional Art” in
Venice in the Renaissance: Essay in Honor of Patricia Fortini Brown, edited
by Blake de Maria and Mary Frank (2012).
Michelle Moseley-Christian is Assistant Professor of Art History at Virginia

Tech in the School of Visual Arts. Her research interests focus on sev-
enteenth-century Dutch and Flemish visual culture, along with fifteenth-
and sixteenth-century northern European prints. She is the author of a
related article on the wild woman forthcoming in Word & Image (2012):
“From Page to Print: the Transformation of the ‘Wild Woman’ in Early
Modern Northern Engravings.” Current projects include further explora-
tion of the wild topos, and a book manuscript in progress that investigates
seventeenth-century Dutch and Flemish informal portraits set in scenes
of everyday life.
list of contributors xvii
Vibeke Olson is an Associate Professor of Art History at the University of

North Carolina Wilmington. She has published on the production process
of medieval architectural and sculptural elements and she is the editor
of Working With Limestone: The Science Technology and Art of Medieval
Limestone Monuments published by Ashgate in 2011. Her current publica-
tions and research focus on the reception of images by medieval audi-
ences in the contexts of medieval theology, philosophy, pilgrimage and
mysticism.
Lisa Rafanelli joined the Department of Art History at Manhattanville Col-

lege in 2004 as a full-time member of the faculty after earning her PhD
from New York University’s Institute of Fine Arts with her dissertation,
“The Ambiguity of Touch: Saint Mary Magdalene and the ‘Noli Me Tan-
gere’ in Early Modern Italy.” Currently, she is an Associate Professor and
Chair of the Department. Dr. Rafanelli has an extensive list of publications,
conference papers and talks. She is currently working on the manuscript
of a book to be co-authored by Dr. Erin Benay titled Gender and Belief in
Italian Renaissance and Baroque Art.
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS
PART one
ICONOGRAPHIC INVENTION IN THE LIFE OF MARY MAGDALENE
1. Michelle A. Erhardt, “The Magdalene as Mirror:

Trecento Franciscan Imagery in the Guidalotti-Rinuccini
Chapel, Florence”
Fig. 1.1. Giotto, Crucifixion, 1310s, fresco, north transept, Lower

Church, San Francesco, Assisi. Photo: Art Resource, New York. .... 23
Fig. 1.2. Giovanni da Milano and Matteo da Pacino, Life of Mary
Magdalene, c. 1363–71, fresco. Guidalotti-Rinuccini Chapel,
Santa Croce, Florence. Photo: author. .................................................. 24
Fig. 1.3. Giovanni da Milano, Anointing of Mary Magdalene from
the Life of Mary Magdalene, c. 1363–71, fresco. Guidalotti-
Rinuccini Chapel, Santa Croce, Florence. Photo: Art Resource,
New York. ...................................................................................................... 29
Fig. 1.4. Christ Anointed by Mary Magdalene, illustration 155, in
Pseudo-Bonaventure, Meditationes vitae Christi, early
fourteenth century, BnParis, Ms. it. 115. Photo: Bibliothèque
Nationale, Paris. ........................................................................................... 33
Fig. 1.5. Giovanni da Milano, Christ in the Home of Mary and
Martha from the Life of Mary Magdalene, c. 1363–71, fresco.
Guidalotti-Rinuccini Chapel, Santa Croce, Florence. Photo:
Art Resource, New York. ........................................................................... 34
Fig. 1.6. Giovanni da Milano and Matteo di Pacino, Noli me
tangere and the Two Women at the Tomb, from the Life of Mary
Magdalene, c. 1363–71, fresco. Guidalotti-Rinuccini Chapel,
Santa Croce, Florence. Photo: Art Resource, New York. ................. 38
Fig. 1.7. Giotto, Apparition at Arles from the Life of Saint Francis,
1325, fresco. 280 × 450 cm, Bardi Chapel, Santa Croce, Florence.
Photo: Art Resource, New York. ............................................................. 42
Fig. 1.8. Giotto, Stigmatization of Saint Francis from the Life of
Saint Francis, 1325, fresco, 390 × 370 cm, Bardi Chapel, Santa
Croce, Florence. Photo: Art Resource, New York. ............................. 43
xx list of illustrations
2. Joanne W. Anderson, “Mary Magdalene and Her Dear Sister:

Innovation in the Late Medieval Mural Cycle of Santa
Maddalena in Rencio (Bolzano)”
Fig. 2.1. Map of northern Italy and the Alpine regions (red text
indicates the location of Magdalene fresco cycles). Map:
author and Nicholas Dease. ..................................................................... 46
Fig. 2.2. Santa Maddalena, Rencio, south view. Photo: author. ........ 47
Fig. 2.3. Magdalene fresco cycle (frames 1–5), c. 1370–90, upper
register of south nave wall. Santa Maddalena, Rencio. Photo:
Bettina Ravanelli. ........................................................................................ 48
Fig. 2.4. Magdalene fresco cycle (frames 6–10), c. 1370–90, upper
register of north wall of nave. Santa Maddalena, Rencio. Photo:
Fig. 2.5. Second Master of San Giovanni in Villa (attrib.),
The Conversion of Mary Magdalene through the Agency of
Martha, c. 1370–90, fresco. Santa Maddalena, Rencio. Photo:
Fig. 2.6. Plan of Magdalene fresco cycle on upper register of
nave in Santa Maddalena, Rencio. Drawing: author and
Nicholas Dease. ............................................................................................ 51
Fig. 2.7. Mary Magdalene, c. 1300–10, fresco. From the apse, Santa
Maddalena, Rencio. Photo: author. ....................................................... 53
Martha (detail), c. 1370–90, fresco. Santa Maddalena, Rencio.
Photo: Bettina Ravanelli. .......................................................................... 56
St. Christopher Preaching to the Prostitutes Nicea and Acquilina
(destroyed), c. 1360, fresco. Former San Nicola chapel, San
Domenico, Bolzano. Photo: Fondazione Rasmo-Zallinger. ............ 60
The Christians Arrive at Marseilles/Mary Magdalene Preaches to
the Pagan Royal Couple and the People of Marseilles (detail),
c. 1370–90, fresco. Santa Maddalena, Rencio. Photo: Bettina
Ravanelli. ....................................................................................................... 69
Martha detail), c. 1370–90, fresco. Santa Maddalena, Rencio
Photo: Bettina Ravanelli. ......................................................................... 72
list of illustrations xxi
3. Amy M. Morris, “The German Iconography of the Saint

Magdalene Altarpiece: Documenting Its Context”
Figs. 3.1(a). Lucas Moser, Saint Magdalene Altarpiece, 1432, panel,

300 × 240 cm. St. Maria Magdalena Church, Tiefenbronn,
Germany. Photo: Denkmalpflege Baden-Württemberg. ................. 76
Fig. 3.1(b). Lucas Moser, Saint Magdalene Altarpiece, altarpiece
opened, 1432, panel, 300 × 240 cm. St. Maria Magdalena
Church, Tiefenbronn, Germany. Photo: Denkmalpflege
Baden-Württemberg. ................................................................................. 77
Fig. 3.2. Anointing (111r), Hist. 149, 1330, illumination.
Staatsbibliothek, Bamberg, Germany. Photo: Staatsbibliothek,
Bamberg. ........................................................................................................ 90
Fig. 3.3. Last Communion (134r), Hist. 149, 1330, illumination.
Staatsbibliothek, Bamberg, Germany. Photo: Staatsbibliothek,
Bamberg. ........................................................................................................ 91
Fig. 3.4. Sea Journey (34v), Codex St. Georgen, 1420, illumination.
Badischen Landesbibliothek, Karlsruhe, Germany. Photo:
Landesbibliothek, Karlsruhe. ................................................................... 94
Fig. 3.5. Mary Magdalene Appears to the Rulers of Marseilles (38v),
Codex St. Georgen, 1420, illumination. Badischen
Landesbibliothek, Karlsruhe, Germany. Photo:
Fig. 3.6. Mary Magdalene’s Companions Before the City Gates (37r),
Codex St. Georgen, 1420, illumination. Badischen
Landesbibliothek, Karlsruhe, Germany. Photo:
PART two
MARY MAGDALENE AS THE REFORMED SINNER
4. Rachel Geschwind, “The Printed Penitent: Magdalene Imagery

and Prostitution Reform in Early Modern Italian Chapbooks and
Broadsheets”
Fig. 4.1. Anonymous artist, titlepage to Marco Rossiglioʼs La

Conversione di Santa Maria Madalena, 1611, woodcut. Biblioteca
Vaticano, Vatican City. Photo: Biblioteca Vaticano. ........................ 118
xxii list of illustrations
Fig. 4.2. Titian, Penitent Magdalene, c. 1560s, oil on canvas.

Ambrosiana, Milan. Photo: Art Resource, NY. ................................... 119
Fig. 4.3. Roman or Venetian, titlepage to Maestro Andreaʼs
Purgatory and Lament of the Roman Courtesan, c. 1530, woodcut.
Photo: British Library, London. .............................................................. 126
Fig. 4.4. Venetian, Lament of the Famous Courtesan Signora Anzola
(verses by Bartolommeo Bonfante), c. 1600, engraving. Milan,
Bertarelli Collection. Photo: Civica Raccolta Stampe Bertarelli. ..... 128
Fig. 4.5. Venetian, Lives and Miserable Ends of Prostitutes, c. 1600,
engraving. Francis Douce Collection, Ashmolean Museum.
Photo: Ashmolean Museum. ................................................................... 131
5. Elizabeth Carroll Consavari, “Tintoretto’s Holy Hermits

at the Scuola Grande di San Rocco”
Fig. 5.1. Scuola Grande di San Rocco, Venice, sala terrena

(ground floor). Photo: author. ................................................................. 136
Fig. 5.2. View of Mary Magdalene from the altar of the sala
terrena, Scuola Grande di San Rocco, Venice. Photo: author. ...... 137
Fig. 5.3. View of Mary of Egypt from the altar of the sala
terrena, Scuola Grande di San Rocco, Venice. Photo: author. ...... 138
Fig. 5.4. Jacopo Tintoretto, Mary Magdalene, c. 1582–83, oil on
canvas, 424 × 209 cm. Scuola Grande di San Rocco, Venice,
sala terrena. Photo: Scuola Grande Arciconfraternita di San
Rocco. ............................................................................................................. 139
Fig. 5.5. Jacopo Tintoretto, Mary of Egypt, c. 1582–83, oil on
canvas, 425 × 221 cm. Scuola Grande di San Rocco, Venice,
sala terrena. Photos: Scuola Grande Arciconfraternita di San
Rocco. ............................................................................................................. 141
Fig. 5.6. Albrecht Altdorfer, Saint George and the Dragon, 1510, oil
on parchment attached to panel. Alte Pinakothek, Munich.
Photo: Art Resource, New York. ............................................................. 148
Fig. 5.7. Titian, Mary Magdalene, c. 1560s, oil on canvas, 119 ×
27 cm. The State Hermitage Museum, St. Petersburg. Photo:
The State Hermitage Museum. ............................................................... 150
Fig. 5.8. Cornelis Cort after Titian, Mary Magdalene, after 1566,
copper engraving. Museo Civico Correr, Venice. Photo:
Molin 3171, Gabinetto Disegni e Stampe Museo Correr. ................. 151
list of illustrations xxiii
6. Patrick Hunt, “Irony and Realism in the Iconography

of Caravaggio’s Penitent Magdalene”
Fig. 6.1. Caravaggio, Penitent Magdalene, c. 1596–97, oil on canvas.

Galleria Doria Pamphilij, Rome. Photo: Art Resource, NY. ........... 163
Fig. 6.1a. Detail of Caravaggio, Penitent Magdalene, c. 1596–97,
oil on canvas. Galleria Doria Pamphilij, Rome. Photo:
Art Resource, NY. ........................................................................................ 172
Fig. 6.2. Rogier van der Weyden, Saint Mary Magdalene, from the
Braque Triptych, 1459, oil on panel. Musèe du Louvre, Paris.
Photo: Art Resource, NY. .......................................................................... 168
Fig. 6.3. Piero di Cosimo, Saint Mary Magdalene, c. 1500, tempera
on panel, 72.5 × 76 cm. Galleria Nazionale d’Arte Antica, Rome.
Photo: Art Resource, NY. .......................................................................... 169
Fig. 6.4. Titian, Penitent Magdalene, 1565, oil on canvas, 119 ×
97 cm. Photo: Hermitage Museum, St. Petersburg. .......................... 170
PART three
NOLI ME TANGERE: MARY MAGDALENE, THE WITNESS
7. Barbara Baert, “The Gaze in the Garden: Mary Magdalene

in Noli me tangere”
Fig. 7.1. Martin Schongauer, Noli me tangere, 1475–1480, burin

engraving. British Museum, London. Photo: British Museum,
London. .......................................................................................................... 190
Fig. 7.2. Ivory with the three Myrrhophores, c. 400. Bayerischen
Nationalmuseum, Munich. ...................................................................... 197
Fig. 7.3. So-called Apostle Sarcophagus with Chairete, c. 400.
Known from the 17th-century engraving in A. Bosio, Roma
Sotterranea, 1651 and Paolo Aringhi, Roma subterranea
novissima, 1659 (facsimile). ...................................................................... 198
Fig. 7.4. Noli me tangere, Codex Egberti, Reichenau, c. 977–993.
Stadtbibliothek, Trier, codex 24, fol. 91. ............................................... 199
Fig. 7.5. Puccio di Simone, Noli me tangere, 1340. Santa Trinità,
Florence. ........................................................................................................ 202
Fig. 7.6. Fra Angelico, Noli me tangere, c. 1445, fresco. San Marco,
Florence. ........................................................................................................ 204
xxiv list of illustrations
Fig. 7.7. Noli me tangere from the Biblia Pauperum. Bibliothèque

Nationale, Paris. ........................................................................................... 209
Fig. 7.8. Martin Schongauer, Noli me tangere, c. 1481, retable.
Musée d’Unterlinden, Colmar. ................................................................ 210
Fig. 7.9. Noli me tangere, c. 1525, pall. Museum Mayer van den
Bergh, Antwerp. Photo: Museum Mayer van den Bergh,
Antwerp. ........................................................................................................ 211
Fig. 7.10. Dancing Mary Magdalene, 1520, miniature. Bibliothèque
Nationale, Paris, ms. par. fr. 24955, fol. 9. ........................................... 213
Fig. 7.11. Quinten Metsijs, Lady as Mary Magdalene, c. 1500.
Koninklijke Musea voor Schone Kunsten, Antwerp. ....................... 214
Fig. 7.12. Noli me tangere from the Medaillon of the Shrine of Our
Lady, 1205. Tournai. .................................................................................... 215
Fig. 7.13. Noli me tangere, detail from Hans Memling, Seven Joys of
the Virgin, 1480, retable. Alte Pinakothek, Munich. ......................... 216
Fig. 7.14. Head reliquary of Mary Magdalene, crypt. Saint-Maximin,
La-Sainte-Baume. ........................................................................................ 218
8. Lisa M. Rafanelli, ‘Michelangelo’s Noli me tangere for

Vittoria Colonna, and the Changing Status of Women in
Renaissance Italy”
Fig. 8.1. Agnolo Bronzino, Noli me tangere (after Michelangelo),

c. 1532, panel. Casa Buonarotti, Florence, Italy. Photo: Scala/Art
Resource, NY. ............................................................................................... 224
Fig. 8.2. Fra Angelico, Noli me tangere, 1440–41, fresco, 180 ×
146 cm. Museo di S. Marco, Florence, Italy. Photo: Scala/Art
Resource, NY. ............................................................................................... 228
Fig. 8.3. Lucas van Leyden, Noli me tangere (Christ Appearing to
Mary Magdalene), c. 1519, etching, first state. Photo: Réunion
des Musées Nationaux/Art Resource, NY. ........................................... 230
Fig. 8.4. Titian, Noli me tangere, 1511–12, oil on canvas, 109 × 91 cm.
National Gallery, London (NG270). Photo: National Gallery,
London/Art Resource, NY. ....................................................................... 233
list of illustrations xxv
9. Bobbi Dykema, “Woman, Why Weepest Thou? Rembrandt’s 1638

Noli me tangere as a Dutch Calvinist Visual Typology”
Fig. 9.1. Rembrandt Harmenszoon van Rijn, The Risen Christ

Appearing to Mary Magdalene, 1638, oil on wood. Royal
Collection, Buckingham Palace, London. Photo: Royal
Collection Trust, HM Queen Elizabeth II 2012. ................................. 250
Fig. 9.2. Anonymous. Noli me tangere, from Dutch Bible, printed
in Antwerp by Henrick Peetersen van Middleborch, translated
from the Vulgate by Desiderius Erasmus, 1541, woodcut. Photo:
Museum of Biblical Art, New York, courtesy of the Rare Bible
Collection @ MOBIA. ................................................................................. 253
Fig. 9.3. Albrecht Dürer, Noli me tangere from the Small Passion,
1509–11, woodcut. Warburg Institute, London. Photo: Warburg
Institute. ......................................................................................................... 254
Fig. 9.4. Lucas van Leyden, Christ as a Gardener Appearing to
Mary Magdalene, 1519, engraving. British Museum, London.
Photo: The Trustees of the British Museum. ...................................... 256
Fig. 9.5. Rembrandt Harmenszoon van Rijn, Adam and Eve, 1638,
etching. Photo: Teylers Museum, Haarlem, The Netherlands. ..... 262
Fig. 9.6. Rembrandt Harmensz. van Rijn. Hagar in the Desert, reed
pen with brown ink, heightened with white, 18.2 × 25.2 cm.
Photo: bpk, Berlin (Hamburger Kunsthalle, Hamburg, Germany,
photo by Christoph Irrgang courtesy of Art Resource, NY). ......... 264
PART four
PATRONAGE AND PRIVILEGE:
THE MAGDALENE AS GUARDIAN AND ADVOCATE
10. Barbara J. Johnston, “The Magdalene and ‘Madame’: Piety,

Politics, and Personal Agenda in Louise of Savoy’s Vie de la
Magdalene ”
Fig. 10.1. Godefroy le Batave, The Body of Lazarus Prepared for

Burial, folios 21v and 22r from the Vie de la Magdalene by
François Demoulins de Rochefort and Godefroy le Batave,
c. 1516, illuminated manuscript on parchment. Bibliothèque
nationale de France, Paris. BnF., Ms. fr. 24.955. Photo: Paris,
Bibliothèque Nationale de France. ........................................................ 272
xxvi list of illustrations
Fig. 10.2. Godefroy le Batave, The Magdalene Dancing, detail from

folio 9r from the Vie de la Magdalene by François Demoulins
de Rochefort and Godefroy le Batave, c. 1516, illuminated
manuscript on parchment. Bibliothèque nationale de France,
Paris. BnF., Ms. fr. 24.955. Photo: Paris, Bibliothèque Nationale
de France. ...................................................................................................... 275
Fig. 10.3. Godefroy le Batave, The Magdalene Hunting, detail from
de France. ...................................................................................................... 276
Fig. 10.4. Godefroy le Batave, Francis I Hunting in the Forest of
Fontainebleau, folio 1 from Commentaires de la guerre gallique
by François Demoulins de Rochefort and Albert Pigghe, c. 1519,
illuminated manuscript on parchment. Bibliothèque nationale
de France, BnF. Ms. fr. 13429. Photo: Paris, Bibliothèque
Nationale de France. .................................................................................. 278
Fig. 10.5. Godefroy le Batave, The Anointing at Bethany, detail of
de France. ...................................................................................................... 285
Fig. 10.6. Godefroy le Batave, The Magdalene’s Hair Reliquary,
detail of folio 70r from the Vie de la Magdalene by François
Demoulins de Rochefort and Godefroy le Batave, c. 1516,
illuminated manuscript on parchment. Bibliothèque nationale
de France, Paris. BnF., Ms. fr. 24.955. Photo: Paris, Bibliothèque
Nationale de France. .................................................................................. 289
Fig. 10.7. Godefroy le Batave, The Magdalene’s Head Reliquary with
the Skull Uncovered detail of folio 72r from the Vie de la
Magdalene by François Demoulins de Rochefort and Godefroy
le Batave, c. 1516, illuminated manuscript on parchment.
Bibliothèque nationale de France, Paris. BnF., Ms. fr. 24.955.
Photo: Paris, Bibliothèque Nationale de France. .............................. 290
Fig. 10.8. Anne of Brittany Adoring the Skull Reliquary of Mary
Magdalene (BnF., Est. Va. 83, 2.) 18th c., engraving. Photo: Paris,
Bibliothèque nationale de France, Cabinet d’Estampes. ................ 291
list of illustrations xxvii
11. Margaret A. Morse, “Mary Magdalene Between Public Cult

and Personal Devotion in Correggio’s Noli me tangere”
Fig. 11.1. Correggio (Antonio Allegri), Noli me tangere, c. 1520s,

oil on panel transferred to canvas, 4 ft. 3 in. × 3 ft. 4 in.
(1.3 × 1.03 m). Museo del Prado, Madrid. Photo: Scala/Art
Resource, NY. ............................................................................................... 296
Fig. 11.2. Raphael (Raffaello Sanzio), Saint Cecilia altarpiece, 1514,
oil transferred from panel to canvas, 7 ft. 2 in. × 4 ft. 5 in.
(2.2 × 1.36 m). Pinacoteca Nazionale, Bologna. Photo: Scala/Art
Resource, NY. ............................................................................................... 297
Fig. 11.3. Correggio (Antonio Allegri), The Magdalene, perhaps
about 1518–19, oil on canvas, 15 in. × 12 in. (38.1 × 30.5 cm).
Salting Bequest, 1910 (NG2512) National Gallery, London. Photo:
National Gallery, London/Art Resource, NY. ..................................... 300
Fig. 11.4. Correggio, Noli me tangere, detail of the dress of Mary
Magdalene. Photo: Scala/Art Resource, NY. ....................................... 302
Fig. 11.5. Raphael, Saint Cecilia, detail of the dress of Saint Cecilia.
Photo: Scala/Art Resource, NY. ............................................................... 303
12. Jane Eade, “Reflections on a Glass Madeleine Pénitente”
Fig. 12.1(a). The Penitent Magdalene; verre églomisé or amelierung

(etched gold and silver foils on the back of clear glass) in an
ornate metal frame, France, c. 1660–75, 61 × 53.5 cms
framed. London, Victoria and Albert Museum (V&A 146:1879).
Photo: Victoria and Albert Museum, London. ................................... 316
Fig. 12.1(b). Detail of The Penitent Magdalene; verre églomisé or
amelierung (etched gold and silver foils on the back of clear
glass) in an ornate metal frame, France, c. 1660–75,
61 × 53.5 cms framed. London, Victoria and Albert Museum
(V&A 146:1879). Photo: Victoria and Albert Museum, London. ...... 319
Fig. 12.2. Charles Thorin, Saint Mary Magdalene, 1631, oil on
canvas, 145 × 121 cm. Paris, Church of Saint-Etienne-du-Mont.
Photo: COARC/Roger-Viollet. .................................................................. 321
Fig. 12.3. Charles le Brun, The Penitent Magdalene, c. 1656,
252 × 171 cm. Paris, Musée du Louvre. Photo: Réunion des
musées nationaux Agence Photographique. ...................................... 323
xxviii list of illustrations
PART five
FUSION AND FLEXIBILITY: THE MAGDALENE’S ROLE TRANSFORMED
13. Andrea Begel, “Exorcism in the Iconography of Mary

Magdalene”
Fig. 13.1. Giovanni da Milano, Anointing from the Life of Mary

Magdalene, c. 1363–69. Guidalotti-Rinuccini Chapel, Santa
Croce, Florence. Photo: Art Resource, New York. ............................. 342
Fig. 13.1a. Detail of demons, from Giovanni da Milano, Anointing
from the Life of Mary Magdalene, c. 1363–69. Guidalotti-
Rinuccini Chapel, Santa Croce, Florence. Photo: Art Rescource,
New York. ...................................................................................................... 343
Fig. 13.2. Master of the Bardi dossal, Exorcism from the Bardi
Dossal, c. 1250, Bardi Chapel, Santa Croce, Florence. Photo: Art
Resource, New York. .................................................................................. 348
Fig. 13.3. Giotto (or workshop), The Anointing (upper left) and the
Raising of Lazarus (upper right), c. 1306–12, fresco, Magdalene
Chapel, lower church of San Francesco, Assisi. Photo:
Michelle Erhardt. ........................................................................................ 351
14. Vibeke Olson, “ ‘Woman Why Weepest Thou?’ Mary Magdalene,

the Virgin Mary and the Transformative Power of Holy Tears in
Late Medieval Devotional Painting”
Fig. 14.1. Rogier van der Weyden, Deposition, c. 1436, wood,

220 × 262 cm. Museo del Prado, Madrid, Spain. Photo: Erich
Lessing/Art Resource, NY. ........................................................................ 363
Fig. 14.2. Rogier van der Weyden, Triptych of the Braque Family,
Right panel: Mary Magdalene, c. 1452, right wing. Musée du
Louvre, Paris. Photo: Scala/Art Resource, NY. ................................... 371
Fig. 14.3. Jan van Eyck (and workshop), Crucifixion, c. 1430, left
wing of a diptych depicting the Crucifixion and Last Judgment,
oil on canvas transferred from wood, 56.5 × 19.7 cm. Fletcher
Fund 1933 (33.92ab), The Metropolitan Museum of Art, New
York. Photo: Metropolitan Museum of Art/Art Resource, NY. ..... 372
list of illustrations xxix
Fig. 14.4. Rogier van der Weyden, Saint Mary Magdalen, left panel
of the Crucifixion Triptych, c. 1440. Kunsthistorisches Museum,
Vienna. Photo: Nimatallah/Art Resource, NY. ................................... 375
Fig. 14.5. Geertgen tot Sint Jans, Lamentation over the Dead Christ
(with Golgotha in the background), inner side of the right wing
of the Saint Johns Altarpiece painted for the Johanniter
Monastery, Haarlem, Netherlands, 1484, tempera on oakwood,
175 × 139 cm. Kunsthistorisches Museum, Vienna. Inv. 991.
Photo: Erich Lessing/Art Resource, NY. ............................................... 380
15. Annette LeZotte, “Mary Magdalene and the

Iconography of Domesticity”
Fig. 15.1. Master of the Female Half-Lengths, Mary Magdalene,

early 16th century, oil on wood, 54 × 42 cm., Louvre, Paris.
Photo: Gerard Blot, Réunion des Musées Nationaux/Art
Resource, NY. ............................................................................................... 384
Fig. 15.2. Virgin atop the Holy House of Loreto with Saints,
17th century, Church of San Giovanni Decollato, Venice. Photo:
Cameraphoto Arte, Venice/Art Resource, NY. ................................... 388
Fig. 15.3. Jan van Eyck, Lucca Madonna, c. 1436. Städelsches
Kunstinstitut, Frankfurt. Photo: Foto Marburg/Art Resource, NY. .... 389
Fig. 15.4. Master of Saint Francis, Crucifix, c. 1272–1285, tempera
on poplar, 92.1 × 71 cm. National Gallery, London. Photo:
National Gallery, London/Art Resource, NY. ..................................... 391
Fig. 15.5. Master of the Strauss Madonna, The Man of Sorrows and
the Symbols of the Passion, 14th century. Accademia, Venice.
Photo: Alinari/Art Resource, NY. ........................................................... 392
Fig. 15.6. Robert Campin, Merode Altarpiece, c. 1427, oil on wood,
64.5 × 117.8 cm. Metropolitan Museum of Art, The Cloisters
Collection, New York. Photo: Art Resource, NY. ............................... 392
Fig. 15.7. Rogier van der Weyden, The Magdalene Reading, before
1438, oil on mahogany transferred from another panel, 62.2 ×
54.4 cm. National Gallery, London. Photo: Art Resource, NY. ...... 393
Fig. 15.8. Petrus Christus, Virgin and Child in a Domestic Interior,
c. 1460, Nelson-Atkins Museum, Kansas City. Photo:
Nelson-Atkins Museum. ............................................................................ 395
xxx list of illustrations
16. Michelle Moseley-Christian, “Marketing Mary Magdalene in

Early Modern Northern European Prints and Paintings”
Fig. 16.1. Jan van Scorel, Mary Magdalene, c. 1530, oil on panel,

67 × 76.5 cm. Rijksmuseum, Amsterdam. Photo:
Rijksmuseum. ............................................................................................... 402
Fig. 16.2. Lucas van Leyden, The Dance of Saint Mary Magdalene,
1519, engraving, 28.7 × 38.4 cm. Photo: Trustees of the
British Museum. .......................................................................................... 403
Fig. 16.3. Albrecht Dürer, The Elevation of Saint Mary Magdalene,
1505, woodcut 21.5 × 14.7 cm. Photo: Trustees of the
British Museum. .......................................................................................... 409
Fig. 16.4. Joachim Patinir and Workshop, Landscape with the
Ecstasy of Saint Mary Magdalene, c. 1517–24, oil on panel,
26.2 × 36 cm. Zurich, Kunsthaus Ruzicka-Stiftung. Photo:
Collection RKD, The Hague. .................................................................... 410
Fig. 16.5. Lucas van Leyden, Repentant Magdalene, c. 1505–06,
engraving 11.3 × 8.6 cm. Photo: Trustees of the British
Museum. ........................................................................................................ 412
Fig. 16.6. Master of the Half Length Figures, Penitent Mary
Magdalene, c. 1480–1524, oil on panel 107 × 133 cm. Present
location unknown. Photo: Dijon, Musée des Beaux Arts, Erich
Lessing, Art Resource, NY. ........................................................................ 413
Fig. 16.7. Attributed to Jan van Scorel, Mary Magdalene in a
Landscape, first half of the sixteenth century, oil on panel.
Photo: Collection RKD, The Hague. ...................................................... 417
FOREWORD
The figure of Mary Magdalene is one of enduring appeal, evoking a variety

of responses at every level, with the power to touch all in the extraordi-
nary wealth of images in which she has come down to us. In many ways,
however, she is an enigmatic creature, the few references to whom in the
New Testament have been interpreted and reinterpreted down the cen-
turies, culminating in a rich mythology that has accrued around those
bare bones. Her multifaceted character, drawn from the conflation with
two other New Testament figures, Mary of Bethany and the female sin-
ner in Luke chapter 7, endows her with other resonances, transforming
her into the rounded figure of an Everywoman, a mirror reflecting the
social attitudes and preoccupations of the periods in which they were cre-
ated. By exploring her art-historical significance and tracing the develop-
ment of her iconography—more often showing her as the figure she was
not—Luke’s sinner or Mary of Bethany—demonstrates how the gospel
figure, freighted above all with her persona of peccable female, was used,
inviting interpretation—or reinvention—of her according to the lights of
those who did so. A complex history lies behind the familiar and ubiqui-
tous images, raising fundamental questions about the role and status of
women in Christianity, the Church and society.
Mary Magdalene is instantly identifiable in art, by her scarlet gown
and long red-gold hair, the color red in the late Middle Ages theologi-
cally symbolizing caritas, charity or love of God, derived from what Christ
says of the repentant woman sinner in Luke 7, with whom the saint was
conflated, ‘Therefore, I tell you, her sins, which are many, are forgiven, for
she loved much.’ This color convention was confirmed by Saint Thomas
Aquinas who stated that Mary Magdalene had passed through humility,‘
the blue water of compunction,’ and ‘charity, the red fire of love.’ The
Virgin Mary too is often shown wearing a red (caritas) gown, over which
is a blue mantle, symbolic of heaven. It was a convention adhered to by
artists to imprint the Christian story on the minds of the faithful, for them
to meditate upon and to prompt sentiments of love and repentance.
In iconography it has been this persona, Mary Magdalene as the repen-
tant sinner, that has predominated, the love that Christ recognized in the
sinner in modern times often taken to refer to her putative former life of
xxxii foreword
prostitution. The long hair with which she almost always appears rein-
forces this impression, reminding the viewer of the story of the sinner’s
weeping on Christ’s feet in the Pharisee’s house, drying them with her
hair, kissing them and pouring expensive ointment on them. Her hair and
its association with sexual license have won the day. Generally under-
stood, therefore, to have been a prostitute, her sin was seen to be that of
Lussuria, or lust, believed by the Church to be the most evil sin of wom-
ankind. Very much more rarely, as is pointed out in Erhardt’s and Begel’s
essays, is Mary Magdalene shown with the seven devils Christ had driven
from her, devils that through male ecclesiastical commentary became her
vices. Her other most frequent identifying emblem is her ointment pot,
the result of the conflation of her true figure at Christ’s tomb with that of
both Mary of Bethany and Luke’s sinner; she sometimes appears holding
or reading a book, representing her taking ‘that good part’ in the story of
Mary and Martha (Luke 10:38–42). She also occasionally appears in gold
(see Morse essay), also relating to the liturgical colors (white and/or gold)
for her feast day, and in northern art in red and green, the color green
likely to refer to the spring and renewal in her role as converted sinner.
Minute examination of an image or aspects of an image reveals the
intentions of painter and/or patron—ecclesiastical or lay—and the import
or meaning of a gesture, and its context. In the silent image, the lexi-
con of gesture signifies what is taking place. As Baxandall noted, ‘we miss
the point of the image if we mistake the gesture.’1 The Noli me tangere,
Saint Jerome’s Latin translation of the Greek non me haptou, taken (incor-
rectly) to mean ‘do not touch me,’ rather than ‘do not seek to hold onto
me,’ prompted countless interpretations of this scene from its earliest
manifestation. As a result there is an entire gamut of images alternating
between Christ greeting Mary Magdalene and her reaching out to him, or
his leaping or floating away, his pointing to heaven, whether his gesture
is a salutation as well as one of restraint, based on the confusion over the
translation of his words, or simply by artists interpreting it differently,
and noted aptly by Rafanelli as the ‘ambiguity of touch.’ The apparent
brusqueness or otherwise of Christ’s movements or gestures, and similarly
the kneeling Magdalene’s arms stretching out, yearning, or held closer to
her chest in worship of her Lord, need consideration in the context of
the medieval or Renaissance language of gesture. And in northern images,
1 Michael Baxandall, Painting and Experience in Fifteenth Century Italy (Oxford: Oxford
University Press, 1972), 70.
foreword xxxiii
Christ often touches Mary Magdalene on the forehead, the northern trope.
Memling’s innovative Noli me tangere from his Seven Joys of the Virgin,
shows Mary Magdalene bending to look into the sepulcher, the two other
Marys walking behind her, and failing to see Christ while he, resurrected
(the fourth Joy), stands beside her as the gardener, blessing her on her
forehead, telescopes the three scenes, which therefore may or may not be
a true Noli me tangere!
The northern trope was derived from the claim by the abbey of Saint
Maximin in Provence to have in its care the relic of Mary Magdalene’s fore-
head, touched by Christ when he said to her ‘do not touch me’, and part of
the Provençal legend. A visit to the Magdalene’s grotto at La Sainte Baume
in 1516 prompted Louise of Savoy, mother of François I of France, to com-
mission a life of the saint from her children’s tutor François Demoulins de
Rochefort, incidentally sparking a furor over the saint’s tripartite identity,
argued by the humanist Jacques Lefevre d’Etaples, who was excommu-
nicated for such ‘heresy.’ Louise’s devotion to the Magdalene led to her
commissioning the Vie de la Magdeleine for personal and political reasons,
revealing her self-identification with the saint’s composite life and her
own familial and dynastic circumstances; François could apparently claim
descent through his Angevin inheritance from the pagan king and queen
of Provence converted by Mary Magdalene in the account in the Legenda
Aurea. The odd inclusion of the dukes of Burgundy’s heraldic device in the
illustration of the Magdalene’s Hair Reliquary (fig. 10.6) connects Louise’s
manuscript to another tale of personal piety and politics. This emanated
from the court of Louise of Savoy’s sister-in-law Margaret of Austria (1480–
1530), married as her third husband to Louise’s brother Philibert of Savoy
(1480–1504), several portraits of whom as Mary Magdalene were made
from around 1511 to 1530. As regent for the Netherlands for her nephew,
the emperor Charles V, there may have been a personal as well as politi-
cal purpose for these images: a reminder that the Burgundian territories,
which included Vézelay, lost to France by the Burgundians on Charles
the Bold’s death in 1477, were still being reclaimed by the Burgundian
Hapsburgs. Mary Magdalene was the Burgundian emblem, as versions of
the Provençal legend told of her conversion to Christianity of their fore-
bears—as in the manuscript YT 32 in the British Library—the pagan king
and queen of Burgundy.2
2 Susan Haskins, ‘Mary Magdalen and the Burgundian Question,’ Journal of the Warburg
and Courtauld Institutes LXXIII (2010): 99–135.
xxxiv foreword
The most innovative and striking Noli me tangere is that by Michel-

angelo, who made a drawing or cartoon (now lost) commissioned on
behalf of Vittoria Colonna, for a painting, subsequently executed by Pon-
tormo and Bronzino, in which Mary Magdalene stands, as per the gos-
pel account, turning to the voice she recognizes as Christ’s and he leans
away, his gesture one of both salutation and restraint. It is also a stance
of equality as Rafanelli notes, not one of humility or submission as in so
many other representations of the theme, a mark of Mary Magdalene’s
importance to Colonna. Colonna wrote of the Magdalene’s ‘courage and
love,’ her seeing Christ first as she ‘loved him most,’ in her meditation on
Christ’s Passion, composed 1539–42, probably inspired by a drawing of the
Pietà given to her by Michelangelo.3 In letters she wrote of her as ‘beloved
disciple’ and ‘apostle,’ ‘messenger’ and ‘herald,’ and as the representative
of women’s love and constancy. In his Magdalene, Michelangelo has cre-
ated the strong, courageous and loving figure envisioned by his patron
and friend, a poetess and advocate of religious reform.
Rogier van der Weyden’s seated Mary Magdalene links her to the read-
ing Magdalene, symbol of contemplation in her guise as Mary of Bethany,
popular in northern art from the 1520s, at the time when women were
being encouraged to read by writers such as Erasmus, whose colloquy
‘The Abbot and the Learned Woman’ was published in 1520. Erasmus
had regarded the Lefevre d’Etaples controversy somewhat frivolously. His
heroine in the colloquy however is ‘Magdalia’, well-versed in Greek and
Latin, arguing that the housewife needs wisdom to rear children and run
the house, and that wisdom comes from books. Erasmus’s advocacy of
women’s education despite his conventional restriction of it to the domes-
tic environment is related in time and sentiment to other treatises on
female behaviour and education by male writers such as Juan Vives. In
Vives’s De istitutione de feminae christianae (1523, commissioned by Cath-
erine of Aragon), it is Mary of Bethany as Mary of Magdala, who appears
as the symbol of contemplation and Vives’s model of ideal young wom-
anhood (his own daughter was called Magdalena). Her reading matter is
also restricted and closely scrutinized: the Bible and improving literature,
3 Susan Haskins, ed. and trans., Who is Mary? Three Early Modern Women on the Idea
of the Virgin Mary: Vittora Colonna, Chiara Matraini and Lucrezia Marinella (Chicago: Uni-
versity of Chicago Press, 2008); “The Well-Read Matron: The Abbot and the Learned Lady,”
in Erasmus on Women, ed. Erika Rummel (University of Toronto Press: Toronto, 1996),
174–179. Erasmus was certainly involved in the Lefevre d’Etaples controversy, and probably
aware of the composite Magdalene’s role as symbol of contemplation, which I suggest may
have prompted him to give her name to his learned lady.
foreword xxxv
for domestic consumption only: ‘Peace of mind is that which elevates us

to colloquies with the divine, as it did with Mary Magdalene, who put
aside worldly things and sat at the Lord’s feet, intent on his words. For
that reason, she received Christ’s praise, that she had chosen the best
part. . . .’ Northern paintings by the Master of the Female Half-lengths,
Ambrosius Benson and Adriaan Isenbrandt, were a new genre, all small
domestic images, and show Mary Magdalene either reading or holding
a book, sometimes her book of hours, and may well have been made as
encouragement for women to learn to read, though still for domestic pur-
poses only, of course.4
This volume of essays sheds light on the complexity and importance of
the figure of Mary Magdalene in new and often unexpected lights. She is
a prism through which Church teaching, monastic ideals, popular piety,
personal devotion and politics, and her reinvention in Calvinist terms, may
be viewed, together with theories about women’s behavior and education,
and the problem of prostitution. These essays bring a new understand-
ing of her significance in the periods in which the images were created,
and show her as the representative of and model for ordinary Christian
women, weeping and joyful, revealing both pathos and heroism.
Susan Haskins
4 Susan Haskins, ‘The Renaissance Magdalen,’ paper given at the Cambridge Interdis-
ciplinary Renaissance Seminar, 1997, and at the National Gallery, London, 2001. Juan Luis
Vives, The Education of a Christian Woman: A Sixteenth-Century Manual, ed and trans.
Charles Fantuzzi (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 2000), 319.
INTRODUCTION
Scope and Focus of the Volume
From the fourteenth to the seventeenth century, Mary Magdalene was

second only to the Virgin Mary as a female subject in devotional art and
narrative cycles. Vast resources—artistic, material, literary, and mone-
tary—were devoted to creating images of the Magdalene. Although the
Magdalene’s popularity and prominence in the visual arts spanned three
major eras in art history, there is a surprising dearth of scholarship focused
on Magdalene iconography of this period. This volume aims to address
this gap and demonstrate the enduring versatility of Mary Magdalene’s
iconography across different regions, audiences, religions, and politics.
Part of the great appeal of the Magdalene during the time period under
consideration was her ability to relate to people. In contrast to the Virgin,
who was born without original sin, the Magdalene led the life of a sin-
ner, and yet still found great favor in Jesus’ eyes. In this timeframe she
represented the woman in Luke’s Gospel who turned away from a life
of sin (prostitution) and gained Jesus’ forgiveness. Through her conver-
sion and subsequent life as a penitent, Mary Magdalene served as a role
model for the laity and ecclesiastics alike. Although it was in her role as
the embodiment of repentance that she first became popular, her persona
grew in complexity through exegesis, legend, sermons, and mystery plays.
Informed by the richness and intricacy of her story in textual sources she
assumed many guises in visual art, including that of witness to the Res-
urrection, reformed prostitute, preacher, miracle worker, and hermetic
penitent. As new layers were added to her character, her appeal to a wider
spectrum of the population grew, as did her presence in religious art. It
is acknowledged that in the arena of religious art and iconography, Mary
Magdalene’s great versatility made her one of the most frequently illus-
trated saints. In essence, Mary Magdalene became many things to many
people, and patrons of religious art were eager to commission images of
her that simultaneously communicated their own ideals and strivings.
While the past decade witnessed a resurgence of interest in Mary
Magdalene, the discussion specifically of the saint’s iconography has
been surprisingly limited. Typically, explorations of Magdalene imagery
have largely been limited to brief mentions as mere artifacts within larger
2 introduction
istorical and religious studies of the saint. The most notable contribu-
h
tions to the advancement of Magdalene iconographic studies date back
over fifty years. Victor Saxer’s career dedicated to studying the cult of Mary
Magdalene ushered in the first serious scholarship on the Magdalene,
culminating in his 1959 publication, Le Culte de Marie Madeleine en Occi-
dent: des Origines à la Fin du Moyen Age.1 More than thirty years later,
Susan Haskins’s Mary Magdalen, Myth and Metaphor (1993) was the first
examination of the saint to discuss her various roles, or guises, and the
symbolism that was implied. Haskins’s publication was groundbreaking
in its nuanced interpretation of the saint and spurred an entire genera-
tion of scholars from varied disciplines, including art history, dedicated
to exploring the importance of Mary Magdalene. Of this generation, one
of the most noteworthy publications is Katherine L. Jansen’s The Making
of the Magdalen: Preaching and Popular Devotion in the Later Middle Ages
(2000), which explores the symbiotic development of Mary Magdalene
and the mendicant orders in Italy in the fourteenth century. Embraced
by the mendicants, the use of Mary Magdalene in their art established
much of the visual tradition for the saint. Within the last decade fic-
tional publications on Mary Magdalene, such as Dan Brown’s Da Vinci
Code (2003), caused a resurgence of interest in the saint, including the
proliferation of numerous publications, many of which were limited to
historical invention. To this date, no comprehensive study of the saint
in visual art has been published. In fact, the most exhaustive studies of
Magdalene iconography remain unpublished. Most notably is the 1961
dissertation by Marga Anstett-Janßen entitled, “Maria Magdalena in der
Abendländischen Kunst. Ikonographie der Heiligen von den Anfängen bis
ins 16 Jahrhundert,” which is concerned with the time period covered by
this volume.2
1 For the most exhaustive work on the evolution of the cult of Mary Magdalene, see
Victor Saxer, Le Culte de Marie-Madeleine en occident des origins à la fin du moyen-âge
(Auxerre: Publications de la Société des fouilles archéologiques et des monuments histo-
riques de l’Yonne, 1959).
2 Susan Haskins, Mary Magdalen: Myth and Metaphor (New York: Riverhead Books,
1993); Katherine L. Jansen, The Making of the Magdalen: Preaching and Popular Devo-
tion in the Later Middle Ages (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 2000); Dan Brown,
The DaVinci Code: a Novel (New York: Doubleday, 2003); Marga Anstett-Janßen, “Maria
Magdalene in der abendländischen Kunst. Ikonographie der Heiligen von den Anfängen
bis ins 16. Jahrhundert” (PhD diss., Freiburg i. Br., 1962). Additional key sources on Mary
Magdalene and her relationship to art include: Marjorie Malvern, Venus in Sackcloth: The
Magdalen’s Origins and Meamorphoses (Carbondale, IL: Southern Illinois University Press,
1975); Marilena Mosco, et al., La Maddalena tra Sacro e Profano: Da Giotto a De Chirico
introduction 3
This anthology seeks to fill the void in art historical literature through
an exclusive focus on the iconography of pivotal cycles and images of
Mary Magdalene produced from the fourteenth through the seventeenth
century. Additionally, the authors in this volume examine novel scenes
or unique iconographic features with a contextual lens. By considering
iconography in tandem with an image’s context, the authors shed light
on the relationship between Mary Magdalene and her patrons, both cor-
porate and private, as well as the religious institutions and regions where
her imagery is found. Ultimately, this volume is significant because it
represents the only dedicated iconographic and contextual study of Mary
Magdalene imagery available.
What this anthology reveals is the flexibility of the Magdalene’s charac-
ter in visual art and, in essence, the reinvention of her iconography from
one generation to the next. Unique to many other saints in the medieval
lexicon, the figure of Mary Magdalene was altered over time to satisfy the
changing needs of her patrons as well as her audience. This publication
seeks to show how her fluidity in art aided her continued popularity and
devotion for over four hundred years.
Mary Magdalene in the Gospels
Textual sources served as the point of departure for much of the Magdalene
imagery created in the time period under consideration and as such pro-
vide necessary background information for understanding the Magdalene
images discussed in this volume. Since Mary Magdalene was one of the
few saints who could claim a direct relationship with Christ, references
to her in the New Testament fostered numerous representations, particu-
larly at her debut in religious art. The Gospels positioned Mary Magdalene
as one of Christ’s closest disciples and indirectly as a reformed prostitute
who repented for her sins.
The historical Mary Magdalene, specified by her first and last name,
appears in twelve different passages in the Gospels most of which relate
to the events surrounding Christ’s Passion and Resurrection.3 Luke
(Milan: Arnoldo Mondadori Editore, 1986); and more recently, Diane Apostolos-Cappa-
dona, In Search of Mary Magdalene: Images and Traditions (New York: American Bible
Society, 2002).
3 Mary Magdalene should also be considered among the women in (Acts 1:12–13)
who received the gift of tongues at the Pentecost. Katherine Jansen, The Making of the
4 introduction
i ntroduces her, describing her as the woman who was healed of seven
demons (8:2).4 After identifying her as such, he adds in the following verse
(3) that she was one of the women “who ministered unto him [Christ]
of their substance.” Matthew’s Gospel (27:55) also insinuates that Mary
Magdalene was a disciple, describing her as one of the women who had
followed Christ from Galilee “ministering unto him.”
Particularly significant to Mary Magdalene’s depiction in religious art
are the Gospel passages that elaborate on her presence at the crucial events
of Christ’s Passion. Both Matthew (27:56) and Mark (15:40) identify Mary
Magdalene as one of those present at Christ’s Crucifixion.5 John’s Gospel
also names Mary Magdalene as a witness at the Crucifixion, but provides
greater detail placing her directly near the cross along with the Virgin
Mary and Mary of Cleophas (19:25). According to the Gospel accounts,
not only was Mary Magdalene at the Crucifixion, she was also present at
Christ’s burial. Both Matthew 27:61 and Mark 15:47 indicate that she was at
the tomb after Christ was buried. Artistically, in scenes of the Crucifixion
she often stands at, or near, the cross alongside the Virgin Mary, John the
Evangelist, and other female mourners. Representations of the Entomb-
ment display her accompanying Christ’s body from Mount Golgotha to
the tomb or weeping at his feet in the tomb. In Resurrection scenes, Mary
Magdalene appears as one of the three Marys to whom Christ appeared.
Yet, the events of Easter morning account for Mary Magdalene’s semi-
nal role in narrative representations of Christ’s Resurrection. Three of the
four Gospels (Mark, Luke and John) identify the Magdalene (alone or in
a group) as the first person to witness Christ’s Resurrection and as the
first to inform the disciples of it. Mark emphasized Mary Magdalene’s pre-
mier role in the events surrounding the Resurrection, identifying her as
the first person to whom Christ appeared. He also stated that she deliv-
ered the news of the Resurrection to the disciples (Mark 16:9–11).6 Mary
Magdalene’s involvement in Christ’s Resurrection is even more extensive
Magdalene: Preaching and Popular Devotion in the Later Middle Ages (Princeton: Princeton
4 Unless otherwise noted all scriptural passages are from The Holy Bible: Douay Rheims
Version (Rockford: Tan Books and Publishers, Inc., 2000). It was assumed that the healing
of seven demons referred to an exorcism.
5 In both Matthew and Mark, Mary Magdalene was in the company of Mary the mother
of James and Joseph.
6 In the Gospel of Matthew Mary Magdalene went with the other Mary to the sepulcher
where they were told by the angel to deliver the news of Christ’s Resurrection to the other
disciples. In both Mark and Luke Mary Magdalene was accompanied by Mary, the mother
introduction 5
in John’s account (20:1–18). According to his Gospel, after seeing that the
tomb was empty Mary Magdalene informed Peter and another disciple
of the news. Later she saw two angels at the site where Christ’s body had
been and after turning around saw Christ himself. Thinking that he was
a gardener she asked him where he had taken the body of Christ. Once
he spoke her name, she recognized him and referred to him as master
(rabboni). When she tried to touch him he said to her, “Do not touch me,
for I am not yet ascended to my Father. But go to my brethren, and say
to them: I ascend to my Father and to your Father, to my God and your
God.” Mary then relayed to the disciples what Jesus had said to her. John’s
description of Christ’s appearance to Mary Magdalene was the source for
one of the most popular episodes in both Christological and Magdalene
cycles: the Noli me tangere. Emphasizing her role as the first witness to
the Resurrection and the one sent to announce his Resurrection to the
other disciples, Mary Magdalene became known in religious art as the
apostolorum apostola, or the “Apostle to the Apostles.”
Gregory the Great’s “Composite Magdalene”
The medieval figure of Mary Magdalene did not appear exclusively in

scenes derived from scriptural passages in which she was identified by
her full name. In art she also features prominently in other frequently
represented scenes from Christ’s life, such as the Raising of Lazarus, the
Feast in the House of Simon, and in images of Christ’s visit to the home
of Mary and Martha, where the Magdalene sits attentively at Christ’s feet.
While not directly referred to by name in the New Testament passages
from which these scenes were derived, Mary Magdalene’s incorporation
into them came about through one of the most well known examples
of mistaken identity in religious history. In 591, Pope Gregory the Great
(c. 540–604) asserted that Mary Magdalene, along with the anonymous
sinner in Luke who washed Christ’s feet with her tears and dried them
with her hair, and Mary of Bethany, the sister of Lazarus and Martha, were
all the same person.7
of James. In Luke, Joanna was also named in the group of women. These women, in this
account, collectively told the disciples of Jesus’ Resurrection.
7 Prior to Gregory the Great, there had been no fixed tradition regarding the confla-
tion of Mary Magdalene, Mary of Bethany and Luke’s anonymous sinner in the western or
eastern churches. Thomas Zeller, Die Salbung bei Simon dem Pharisäer und in Bethanien.
6 introduction
The identification of Mary Magdalene as Luke’s anonymous sinner led to

the conception of her as a reformed prostitute. According to Luke (7:36–38)
when Christ was eating dinner at the house of Simon the Pharisee, a
woman who was known as a sinner came to see him at the Pharisee’s
house. She brought with her an alabaster box full of ointment “and stand-
ing behind at his feet, she began to wash his feet, with tears, and wiped
them with the hairs of her head, and then kissed his feet and anointed
them with the ointment.” In representations of the Anointing or Feast in
the House of Simon, Mary Magdalene appears weeping at Christ’s feet,
usually before a banquet table, wiping them with her hair. Her association
with the woman in Luke’s Gospel emphasized her role as one of Christ’s
anointers on Easter morning. In images of the Anointing the Magdalene
is frequently shown with an ointment jar (pyxis) or vase.
Inheriting the identity of Mary of Bethany, the sister of Martha and
Lazarus, had further consequences for the medieval understanding of
Mary Magdalene and her characterization in art. According to Luke’s Gos-
pel, while Christ was at Martha’s house, Mary listened to his words and
Martha occupied herself with serving. When Martha requested that Christ
encourage Mary to help her, he responded to her that, “Mary hath chosen
the best part, which shall not be taken away from her” (Luke 10:38–42). In
addition to appearing in scenes of Lazarus’ resurrection and other scenes
related to the life of Martha and Lazarus, through Luke’s Gospel account
of Christ in the house of Mary and Martha, she became a representative
of the contemplative life.8
Studien zur Bildtradition der beiden Themen in der italienischen Kunst von den Anfängen
im 9. Jahrhundert bis zum Ende des Cinquecento (Cologne: Böhlau Verlag, 1997), 29.The
conflation of Mary Magdalene with Luke’s Anonymous Sinner has been attributed to the
introduction of Mary Magdalene by name immediately after the scene in the Pharisee’s
house. The sequential placement of these two incidents gave rise to the assumption that
they involved the same person. The fact that Mary Magdalene was healed of evil spirits
may also have suggested that she was a sinner. Susan Haskins, Mary Magdalen; also see
Jansen for additional information on the foundations for this assumption in the time of
Gregory the Great, The Making of the Magdalen, 33. For information on the extensive use
of the name Mary, see Diane Apostolos-Cappadona, In Search of Mary Magdalene, 10–11.
8 For more information on the representation of this scene in art and its iconography,
see Jane Couchman, “Action and Passio. The Iconography of the Scene of Christ at the
Home of Mary and Martha,” Studi Medievali 26/3 (1995), 711–719.
introduction 7
Mary Magdalene and Medieval Legend
Similar to other saints, legends surrounding her life before and after Christ’s
death and Resurrection surfaced in the medieval period and formed the
source for much of her artistic imagery. By the mid-thirteenth century,
Jacobus de Voragine preserved the Magdalene’s life story in the Golden
Legend, which combined the identities she inherited from various Gospel
passages with apocryphal details that had circulated in disparate legends.9
According to the Golden Legend, fourteen years after Christ’s Resurrec-
tion, Mary Magdalene, along with her siblings, Lazarus and Martha, and
two other followers of Christ, Maximin and Cedonius, were exiled from
Judea and cast off to sea in a rudderless boat to die. Instead of perishing,
the boat landed in Marseilles where the Magdalene and her companions
spent the rest of their lives preaching and converting the pagan residents
of Gaul to Christianity.10 There, Mary Magdalene preached the Gospels,
performed many miracles, and even converted the ruler of Marseilles and
his wife to the teachings of Christ. For the last thirty years of her life she
retreated to the desert of Provence where she lived as an ascetic in prayer,
devoting her remaining days to penance for the sins of her youth. At every
canonical hour she was lifted by angels to hear the celestial chants of
heaven. On her last day, Maximin, who had been made Bishop of Aix,
came to her so that she could receive Communion, at which time she shed
tears of joy and then laid down and gave up her spirit to heaven.11
The story of Mary Magdalene’s life as presented in the Gospels and the
popular Golden Legend consists of different segments or parts. In cycli-
cal images of the Magdalene’s life episodes from any one or all of these
different parts were illustrated. While the source for her life as a com-
panion to and follower of Christ was obviously derived from the Gospels,
the Golden Legend, which combined earlier legends, supplied the mate-
rial for all other segments of her life. According to Voragine’s account of
9 Jocobus de Voragine, The Golden Legend: Readings on the Saints, trans. William G.
Ryan (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1993), 374–383. Jocobus de Voragine was a
Dominican monk who is thought to have written the text between 1263 and 1267, possibly
near Lombardy where he had entered the Dominican Order twenty years prior in 1244. He
died in Genoa in 1298. See Marilena Mosco, et al., La Maddalena tra Sacro e Profano: Da
Giotto a De Chirico (Milan: Arnoldo Mondadori Editore, 1986), 42.
10 Voragine, Golden Legend, 376. According to the legend Mary Magdalene and Maxi-
min focused their preaching on Marseilles, and then moved to Aix-en-Provence. Lazarus
reportedly stayed in Marseilles while Martha focused her missionary work on Tarascon.
11 Voragine, Golden Legend, 380–81.
8 introduction
her pre-conversion life, she was a member of a noble family in Magdala,

a fishing village in Galilee. While medieval writers disagreed somewhat
on the factors that led to her prostitution, most argued that it was her
great wealth and beauty that were her downfall.12 The story of her pre-
conversion life as a beautiful noble woman encouraged creative images of
the secular or worldly Magdalene in which she might be hunting or par-
ticipating in a court dance.13 References to her privileged upbringing also
appear in scenes originating from other parts of her legend, particularly
in her luxurious and sometimes revealing clothing.
Along with scenes from her life before her conversion to Christian-
ity and as a disciple to Christ, images derived from what is described as
her apostolic life frequently portrayed Mary Magdalene as a powerful
preacher and witness to Christianity.14 Not only did she convert pagan
Gaul but she performed miracles for the rulers of Marseilles, helping them
to bear a child and to revive the dead queen. While this segment of her
life was popularized in the Golden Legend, it had existed long before its
publication in the vita apostolica. Circulating in the eleventh century the
vita apostolica was intimately tied to her cult in France and explained how
the Magdalene’s body came to rest at Vézelay. This section of her story
often begins with scenes of her and her companions in a rudderless boat.
Mary Magdalene’s attempts to convert the people of Gaul to Christianity
were captured in images of her either appearing to the pagan rulers of
Marseilles in their bed chamber or preaching to the entire population.
Particular cycles also represented the Magdalene’s miracles performed on
behalf of the rulers of Marseilles.
Whereas the apostolic life of the Magdalene ultimately arose from the
need to account for her relics in Vézelay, an earlier legend, known as
the vita eremetica was the source for her time spent as a penitent in the
wilderness.15 According to the vita eremetica, which was written in the
12 Ruth Mazo Karras, “Holy Harlots: Prostitute Saints in Medieval Legend,” Journal of the
History of Sexuality 1 (1990): 18–28.
13 According to Karras, the sinful life of the Magdalene reached its zenith in the six-
teenth-century Netherlands, “Holy Harlots,” 26. On the interpretation of the Dance of the
Magdalene by Lucas van Leyden, see Craig Harbison, “Lucas van Leyden the Magdalen
and the Problem of Secularization in Early Sixteenth-Century Northern Art,” Oud Holland
98 (1984): 117–129.
14 While women were forbidden to preach, the Magdalene was upheld as a model for
female preaching by certain heretical sects and other reform-minded women. Jansen,
Making of the Magdalen, 270–277.
15 The vita eremetica was written in the ninth century in southern Italy. Jansen, Making
of the Magdalen, 37.
introduction 9
ninth century in southern Italy, the Magdalene retired to the desert after
Christ’s Ascension and lived there for thirty years without food or cloth-
ing. The legendary account of Mary Magdalene’s life as a penitent in the
desert was derived from the legend of Saint Mary of Egypt.16 According to
legend, Mary of Egypt, who lived in the fifth century, became a prostitute
at the age of twelve and remained in the profession for seventeen years.
Having no money to journey to Jerusalem, she paid her way by performing
her trade. When she arrived in Jerusalem, she was not permitted in the
temple and became aware of the magnitude of her sins. She immediately
repented and then lived alone in the desert in repentance for her sins.
After forty-seven years in the desert, Zosimus, a holy monk administered
her last Communion. She died the next day and Zosimus, along with a
friendly lion, buried her.17 Representations of Mary of Egypt influenced
those of Mary Magdalene. Both saints are often shown with long hair
enveloping their body in a cavernous retreat or outdoors. Additionally,
they both appear receiving their last communion.
Mary Magdalene’s Cult
Indicated by the close association between her legend as the apostle of

Gaul and the promotion of her relics at Vézelay, legend and cult were
closely connected. Moreover, one of the byproducts of the growth in her
cult was an increase in Magdalene imagery. While signs of Magdalene
devotion began to accumulate in the ninth and the tenth centuries
throughout Europe,18 Mary Magdalene’s rise in popularity paralleled the
establishment of her cult in southern France in the twelfth century. In the
16 Marga Anstett-Janßen, “Maria Magdalena in der abendländischen Kunst. Ikonogra-

phie der Heiligen von den Anfängen bis ins 16. Jahrhundert,” (PhD diss., Freiburg i. Br.,
1962), 56. The story that Mary Magdalene retired to the desert after Christ’s ascension may
have first been reported in an old English Martyrology, but became well known in the vita
eremetica. The Anglo-Saxon martyrology is dated to the mid-to late nineteenth century.
The text describes how Mary Magdalene lived in the desert for thirty years after Christ’s
Ascension. During that period she fasted but was lifted up to heaven at meal times by
angels for sustenance. When she died a priest gave her the last sacrament and buried her.
The eventual assimilation to Mary of Egypt in the creation of her vita may have resulted
from the old English martyrology, which gave the Magdalene a hermetic life. In addition to
their isolation in the desert the similarity of their names and their lives of sin contributed
to the conflation of their identities Haskins, Myth and Metaphor, 110–111.
17 Haskins, Myth and Metaphor, 111.
18 Prayers to her appeared in sacramentaries and were related to the mass on her feast
day already in the ninth century. Haskins, Myth and Metaphor, 111.
10 introduction
thirteenth century another significant event occurred that was to have a

profound effect on her cult and, more importantly, the character of her
imagery. In 1279, Charles II, Prince of Salerno and member of the House
of Anjou, dramatically changed the course of the saint’s history when
he claimed to discover the Magdalene’s true relics at Saint-Maximin in
southern France.19 In a vision Mary Magdalene told him that her relics
were not in Vézelay, as previously thought, but in actuality remained near
the city of Aix-en-Provence where they had been since her death. Acting
upon this vision, on December 9th of that year, Charles presided over the
official exhumation ceremonies of a tomb in the crypt of Saint Maximin,
where the saint had led him. Upon opening the tomb, the saint’s remains
were miraculously rediscovered.20 Ten days later prelates convened to
authenticate the saint’s body. After confirming the authenticity of the
Magdalene’s relics, they were exhumed and translated to an opulent reli-
quary. In 1283 the Magdalene’s skull was removed and placed in a golden
reliquary, crowned with an Angevin diadem sent especially for the occa-
sion by the prince’s father, Charles I, King of Naples.21 In 1295 Boniface
VIII gave papal approval of the site and instituted the Dominicans as cus-
todians of the Magdalene’s shrine.22 These events led to the establishment
of a new cult center for the saint, which quickly spread first to Italy thanks
to the Angenvin control over the city of Naples and the Domincan adop-
tion of the saint as a paradigm of penance. In the century that followed
19 Charles of Salerno would later become King Charles II of Provence. For earlier infor-
mation on the Magdalene’s cult in Vézelay, see Victor Saxer, “L’Origine des Reliques de
Sainte Marie Madeleine a Vézelay,” Revue des Sciences Religieuse 29 (1955): 1–18. See also
Jansen, Making of the Magdalen, 308–09.
20 In 1355 Philippe Cabassole, chancellor of the Kingdom of Naples, described the dis-
covery of the Magdalene’s relics at Saint-Maximin in his Historical Book of the Blessed
Magdalen. In the saint’s mouth was a found a small frond which the witnesses took to
signify that she was an apostolorum apostola, or apostle to the apostles, because she was
the first witness to the Resurrection. See Jansen, Making of the Magdalen, 18–19. For more
on Cabasolle’s text Jansen cites Victor Saxer, “Philippe Cabassole et son Libellus hystoria-
lis Marie beatissime Magdalene. Préliminaires à une edition du Libellus,” L’État Angevin:
Pouvoir, culture et société entre XIII et XIV siècle (Rome: École Française de Rome, 1998):
193–204.
21 Katherine L. Jansen, “Mary Magdalen and the Mendicants: The Preaching of Penance
in the late Middle Ages,” Journal of Medieval History 21 (1995): 1–25.
22 Jansen, “Mary Magdalen and the Mendicants,” 2. The House of Anjou claimed the
Magdalene as their protectress and became instrumental in promoting her cult through-
out France and their protectorates in Italy and beyond. By 1297 the cult of the Magdalene
was firmly established in Italy when Gerardo Bianchi of Parma, Cardinal-Bishop of Sabina,
interestingly also closely associated with the Angevins, raised an altar to her in the nave of
the Lateran. See Eve Borsook, Mural Painters of Tuscany: from Cimabue to Andrea del Sarto
(Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1980), 15.
introduction 11
the events at Saint-Maximin, the appearance of Mary Magdalene in visual

art exploded and spread to other parts of Europe. The revival of fresco
decoration within mendicant churches and the growing adoption of altar-
pieces helped to establish Mary Magdalene as one of the most versatile
and alluring subjects in visual art of the era.
Contents of the Magdalene Volume
Beginning in this nascent period in the fourteenth century, the essays in

this anthology chronicle an overview of the development of Magdalene
iconography through the seventeenth century. By examining the histori-
cal, socio-cultural, and contextual factors that promoted changes in her
imagery, the authors weave together a complex tapestry that narrates the
evolution of Magdalene iconography in visual art. Together the five parts
of this anthology address the major manifestations of the Magdalene’s
character—her role as saint, sinner, penitent, witness, and advocate.
While the details of Mary Magdalene’s life, replete with drama and a
savory narrative, made her an attractive subject in art, the flexibility of
her iconography and the allure of her story conveyed a powerful message
of the ability of faith to transform sin into salvation.
Iconographic Invention in Late Medieval Magdalene Cycles
This first section focuses on narrative cycles in the late medieval period
both north and south of the Alps. Starting in the thirteenth and early four-
teenth centuries, episodes from the Magdalene’s vita appeared in a wide
variety of media, including stained glass, fresco, manuscript illumination,
and panel painting. While certain episodes of her life became standard,
including the scenes of her Anointing, the Noli me tangere, and her Last
Communion, new episodes were frequently added and are generally char-
acterized by a great variety of scenes and details. Few, if any cycles were
identical and increasingly, the differences among scenes as well as the
details of common portrayals often varied. In some instances the patron
influenced her depiction, while other scenes may reflect broader trends
in devotional literature or mystery plays. Scholars in this section explore
what motivated specific scenes and the details of their representation as
well as how Magdalene cycles could be customized according to the their
patrons, audience, or textual sources. Michelle Erhardt’s essay discusses
how the figure of Mary Magdalene became a symbol of repentance and
12 introduction
salvation for the Franciscan order seeking to reach a mostly illiterate pub-
lic. Whether portrayed as the sinner who washed Christ’s feet with her
tears, or the first witness to the Resurrection, Mary Magdalene emerged
as a tangible model of deliverance from the sinful life. Erhardt argues
that images of the saint presented an even more immediate and power-
ful message to the Franciscan friars themselves. Like their founder, Fran-
cis of Assisi, the Magdalene rejected a life of luxury and devoted herself
to preaching and penance. By examining the Magdalene cycle from the
Guidalotti-Rinuccini Chapel, Florence as a reflection of Franciscan ideals,
the author reinterprets the cycle as a visual treatise on three of the most
important aims of the order—dedication to penance, observation of the
vita mixta, or the perfect union of the active and the contemplative lives,
and the commitment to public preaching. Joanne Anderson examines the
iconographical innovation that took place in the rarely discussed Alpine
parish churches dedicated to the cult of Mary Magdalene. The late four-
teenth-century fresco cycle in the church of Santa Maddalena in Rencio
near Bolzano is the primary focus of her study. Set in its artistic context,
Anderson’s essay reconsiders the fundamental role Martha, Mary’s sister
according to legend, played in her conversion away from worldly vices in
both Italian and German traditions. Her investigation of a unique scene
and the factors that influenced its innovations and appeal broaden our
understanding of regional variants in the evolution of Magdalene imagery.
Furthering the Germanic connection to Magdalene iconographic innova-
tions, Amy Morris revisits Lucas Moser’s Saint Magdalene Altarpiece, one
of the most significant Magdalene cycles created in fifteenth-century Ger-
many. She unearths sources for the cycle’s unique iconographic program
and reveals Moser’s dependence on earlier German Magdalene cycles
in terms of the selection of scenes and their composition, and, through
a comparison with French and Italian cycles identifies the aspects of
Magdalene iconography that are uniquely German proposing the abbot
of the nearby Hirsau monastery as the likely iconographic advisor for the
altarpiece. Together these articles illustrate the unique character that dif-
ferent sources brought to the early visual definitions of the Magdalene’s
vita and how they deviated from traditional and literary sources, shedding
light on the influence of regional customs and religious orders, who sought
her out in visual imagery as a didactic as well as tangible role model.
introduction 13
The essays in the second section explore the Magdalene in one of her most
popular guises, her transformation from a sinner to saint as a converted
prostitute. To contemporary audiences of the renaissance and baroque
periods, the Magdalene became a tangible model of redemption from the
sinful life. While the scene of Mary Magdalene’s conversion had been fea-
tured routinely in late Gothic cycles, they acquired new meaning in the
sixteenth century. Beginning in this century individual episodes of Mary
Magdalene’s life appeared as isolated images. The message of her conver-
sion served as a particularly poignant message to prostitutes as well as
to the sexually promiscuous as some of the essays in this section empha-
size. Rachel Geschwind’s essay proposes that the Magdaleneʼs image was
a religious and social model for the reform of prostitution in Venice and
Rome between 1500 and 1700. Coinciding with the introduction of syphilis
(the disease associated with prostitution) in the early sixteenth century
and the incarceration of prostitutes at the end of the seventeenth century,
Geschwind argues that Magdalene imagery, in the form of religious chap-
books depicting the Conversion of the Magdalene and their secular coun-
terparts, prints and moralizing broadsheets dedicated to the Lives and
Miserable Ends of Prostitutes, can be inextricably linked to prostitution
reform. According to Geschwind, the images presented were created in
order to persuade, reinforce, and assist the intended viewer to participate
in the popular campaign to decrease prostitution in early modern Italy.
In a similar vein, Elizabeth Carroll Consavari’s essay explores a flourishing
reinvention of Mary Magdalene in Venice in the late sixteenth century.
By reexamining Jacopo Tintoretto’s so-called “Marian cycle” of canvases
for the sala terrena, or ground floor, of the Scuola Grande di San Rocco,
Consavari confirms the much-debated identification of these figures as
pendant images of Mary of Egypt and Mary Magdalene. These two figures
were especially significant to the confraternity’s mission, aiding the grow-
ing numbers of those afflicted with the plague and syphilis, who sought
emotional and physical comfort in the Scuola. Patrick Hunt, in his essay
on Caravaggio’s Penitent Magdalene (1596–97), offers a new interpretation
of the painting within the context of Counter-Reformation Rome, where
Mary Magdalene was epitomized as the fallen sinner who became a great
saint, a fitting subject for a Baroque melodrama. Hunt interprets Cara-
vaggio’s iconography as a possible reaction to archbishop Gabriele Pale-
otti’s 1682 injunction against the actual use of prostitutes and courtesans
as models for saints. Hunt argues that in Caravaggio’s mind what better
14 introduction
sitter for a portrait of a prostitute than the well-known Roman courtesan

Anna Bianchini, furthering a new meaning to the polarity between the
sacred and profane. The irony of Caravaggio is that despite his reputa-
tion for shunning tradition, he actually followed sources much closer than
his contemporaries, while simultaneously introducing new iconographic
details in a very subtle manner. The articles of this section highlight the
Magdalene’s role as the reformed sinner or penitent, in visual imagery. In
her most powerful manifestation, the Magdalene became an instrument
for powerful campaigns for social reform, moral instruction, and political
commentary by artists and patrons alike.
Similar to her role as penitent, part three consists entirely of essays that
explore the iconography of the Noli me tangere, or Mary Magdalene’s
unique role as the first witness to the Resurrection. The scene’s privileged
status emphasized the Magdalene’s special relationship to Christ. Like
scenes of her conversion, the popularity of isolated images of her role in
the Resurrection surged in the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries. A visual
manifestation of the Gospel narrative taken from John 20:17, images of
the Noli me tangere, meaning “touch me not,” explore themes of physical
and spiritual contact between Christ and his favourite female companion.
In her essay, Barbara Baert discusses the anthropological field of tension
of the body and embodiment in late medieval visual culture where the
Noli me tangere theme occupies a special place. Both in exegesis and in
artistic expression, Christ’s prohibition on touching has been a starting
point for broaching the relationship between spirituality, gender, and the
corporeality of Christ and Mary Magdalene in the late Middle Ages and
early modernity. Baert attempts to bring this field of tension expressed in
the Noli me tangere into sharp focus with an emphasis on the fifteenth-
century Low Countries. Lisa Rafanelli examines Michelangelo’s lost Noli
me tangere cartoon designed for Vittoria Colonna, known to us today
only through the painted copies of Pontormo (1531), Bronzino (1531–32),
and Battista Franco (1537). These copies bear witness to the originality
of Michelangelo’s composition, which defies iconographical expectations
established for scenes of the Noli me tangere. His innovation focuses on
the Magdalene’s privilege and the worth and redemptive power of her
words and deeds, rather than her sinful past and penitence, as was typi-
cal of other renditions of the Noli me tangere. By celebrating the more
introduction 15
e mpowered aspects of the Magdalene’s identity, this painting participates

visually in the debate raging in humanist and theological circles over the
status of women in religion and society, and not only reflects Colonna’s
personal devotion to the Magdalene, but also her active participation
in the contemporary pro-feminist dialogue. Bobbi Dykema analyzes
Rembrandt’s unusual composition of the Risen Christ Appearing to Mary
Magdalene (1638) and places the Resurrection encounter within the visual
typology and context of the seventeenth-century Calvinist Netherlands.
Her consideration of the scene moves beyond patronage to explore the
meaning of the scene in a post-Reformation context. Typological exegesis,
or the interpretation of figures and events in the Old Testament as pre-
figurations and events in the gospels, paired the Magdalene with such
diverse figures as Miriam, Eve, Susanna, Hagar, and the unnamed Shun-
namite woman in the Song of Songs. Dykema argues that Rembrandt’s
depiction of the Magdalene exemplifies the shift in conception away from
the Roman Catholic cult of the saints toward a more bibliocentric Cal-
vinist understanding of this female New Testament figure and her vital
importance to Christian salvation history. The articles in this section high-
light the Magdalene’s unique role as the first witness to the Resurrection
and speak to broader themes such as sensuality, the meaning of touch,
and the manner in which saints such as Mary Magdalene were redefined
to appeal to Protestant audiences. By approaching the Noli me tangere
from different perspectives, the authors help to broaden our understand-
ing of how the Magdalene’s role in this scene was adapted to divergent
audiences.
The Magdalene and the Patron:

Manifestations of a Personal Agenda
The ability of the patron to shape the Magdalene’s representation is an

important theme in several of the articles in this volume. The essays of the
fourth section further elucidate the intermingling of personal agendas and
Magdalene imagery. Patrons commissioned images of Mary Magdalene to
fit their political, religious, and cultural agendas. Because of her accessibil-
ity and transformative character, she was easily manipulated to become
an icon for campaigns of the wealthy or for prominent religious orders and
their ideals. The proliferation of these tailored images of the Magdalene
were influential, helping to mold the appreciation of the saint in visual
culture. In her essay, Barbara Johnston closely examines the 1516 man-
16 introduction
uscript depicting the Vie de la Magdalene designed for Louise of Savoy,

mother of the French king Francis I. Johnston contends that the creators
of the Vie de la Magdalene incorporated the personal and spiritual agen-
das of both Louise and her confidant, the Franciscan priest, François du
Moulin, with the life and legend of Mary Magdalene to create a remark-
ably complex manuscript that functioned as quasi-biography, historical
document, theological forum, and book of devotion. Margaret Morse, in
her essay on Correggio’s Noli me tangere (1520s) explores the influence
of patronage and politics upon the iconic scene by situating Correggio’s
painting within the domestic context and public life of the Ercolani fam-
ily of Bologna, Italy. Morse argues that the representation bears a curious
relationship to Raphael’s Saint Cecilia in Ecstasy (1514), an altarpiece com-
missioned by a local noblewoman, Elena Duglioli dall’Olio, and located in
the church of San Giovanni in Monte, across the street from the Ercolani
palace. To demonstrate how the Ercolani family transformed a civic cult
into one that fulfilled more personal spiritual needs, Morse explores not
only the political climate in Bologna, but discovers the ties between Cor-
reggio’s sensual naturalism, contemporary devotional literature, and what
Mary Magdalene’s union with Christ may have meant for the beholder
when used during household prayer and meditation. Jane Eade explores
the iconography of the Magdalene’s conversion in a late seventeenth-
century image associated with the French court, now in the collection
of the Victoria & Albert Museum, London. Etched and painted on the
reverse of a piece of glass using a technique known as verre églomisé, this
brilliant jewel-like object depicts the Magdalene in a sumptuous interior
in the midst of the revelation that is to lead to her conversion. Eade pro-
poses that the painting was likely intended as an allegorical portrait of
Louise de La Vallière (1644–1710), first mistress of Louis XIV, who left court
in order to enter a Carmelite convent. The essay discusses the revelatory
power of divine light, symbolized by the sun and how the artist conflates
this image with references to Apollo and to Louis XIV as the ‘Roi Soleil.’
The essays of this section highlight the significance of patrons in shap-
ing, and even to an extent altering, the Magdalene’s image to fit personal
agendas. Whether by promoting a political or social campaign, or by using
the Magdalene as a foil for disguised portraits, patrons took advantage of
the unique malleability of the saint’s image in art.
introduction 17
Fusion and Flexibility: The Magdalene’s Role Transformed
The fifth and final part of the collection, Fusion and Flexibility: The
Magdalene’s Role Transformed, highlights the unique versatility in
Magdalene iconography throughout the period under consideration. Not
only was Mary Magdalene constantly emerging in new roles, but even
the manner in which standard scenes were represented was constantly
evolving. Magdalene imagery responded to a range of artistic, social, and
historical factors. Andrea Begel in her essay on Giovanni da Milano’s
Anointing from the Guidalotti-Rinuccini Chapel, Florence chronicles how
the Magdalene was transformed into a demonically possessed sinner by
the inclusion of a rare detail, seven demons fleeing the room. Begel argues
that the fresco makes reference to a rarely depicted episode from Luke
8:1–3, the exorcism of Mary Magdalene by Christ as a result of Christ’s
forgiveness. Moreover, her essay also explores exorcism in the context of
Franciscan practices and other images of exorcism. Addressing a very dif-
ferent role, Vibeke Olson follows the changing tide of devotional practice
toward an affective piety in the later Middle Ages, which called for emo-
tionally charged images that invited the beholder to participate directly in
their Passion drama through the agency of tears. The tears of mourners,
chief among them Mary Magdalene and the Virgin Mary, who wept and
wailed over the body of Christ in religious images, acted as a paradigm
for the beholder who was encouraged not only to imitate, but also to par-
ticipate. These instances of painted tears had the power to transport the
beholder, in his or her imagination and via the agency of their own real
tears, to the actual event being depicted. Annette LeZotte discusses how
the theological significance of Mary Magdalene changed dramatically in
this period as new understandings of her character and virtues or vices
evolved. In particular, Mary Magdalene came to be understood or pro-
moted as a “new Mary” alluded to in Olson’s article, and theatrical and
metaphorical references to the Magdalene promoted this idea. Artists
responded by representing Mary Magdalene in guises and settings that
previously had been reserved for depictions of the Virgin Mary. This essay
explores the iconography of depictions of Mary Magdalene in domestic
settings and investigates how references to the home, or domestic envi-
ronment, were used to reframe the character of the Magdalene during the
fifteenth and early sixteenth centuries. Lastly, Michelle Moseley-Christian
turns our attention to images in Northern Europe produced from 1450–
1550, where an unusually large number of paintings and prints depicting
Mary Magdalene as a reformed penitent appear in two guises: the saint
18 introduction
elevated in ecstasy and as an outcast in the wilderness. Moseley-Christian

brings to light a curious aspect of these penitent images in the fact that
they were produced during the inception and explosive growth of the
open art market. The choice of iconography for the Northern penitent
combines sensual nudes with a landscape setting, all while demonstrat-
ing ostensibly devotional overtones in images that were likely intended to
advance the commercial potential of these pictures to the broadest pos-
sible range of buyers. Her study proposes how and why the iconography in
Northern penitent imagery changed in the fifteenth and sixteenth centu-
ries, and the implications suggested by those changes within the context
of commercial competition. The authors of this section explore the com-
plex development of the Magdalene’s character as she began to appear
in new settings, including the domestic sphere and expanded landscape
backgrounds and gained attributes often associated with the Virgin Mary.
Together these authors demonstrate the transformative power unique to
Mary Magdalene, one that distinguished her in the lexicon of Christian
art. In the art of the medieval through Baroque periods, the images of
Mary Magdalene became many things to many people—saint, sinner,
penitent, witness, advocate—proving that she was one of the most influ-
ential female figures in the medieval, Renaissance, and baroque periods.
Part one
Iconographic Invention in the Life of Mary Magdalene

chapter one
The Magdalene as Mirror: Trecento Franciscan Imagery

in the Guidalotti-Rinuccini Chapel, Florence
Michelle A. Erhardt
“Peccatrice Nominata, Madalena da Dio amata” (Called the sinner,

Magdalene, beloved of God) sings the fourteenth-century Florentine
lauda.1 A woman who delighted in the sensuousness of life, the medieval
Mary Magdalene indulged herself in riches, beauty, and pleasures of the
flesh before hearing Christ preach and falling to her knees begging for
forgiveness.2 She washed Christ’s feet with her tears and through her pen-
ance was transformed into the reformed sinner chosen as the first wit-
ness to the Resurrection. For many in the medieval and early Renaissance
periods, Mary Magdalene emerged as a tangible role model of deliverance
from the sinful life.
Iconographically, images of Mary Magdalene in fourteenth-century
Florence reflect the growing popularity of the mendicant orders, partic-
ularly the Franciscans, and their preaching. Franciscan devotion to the
Magdalene is well documented throughout the thirteenth and fourteenth
centuries. For the Franciscans Mary Magdalene conformed to their defi-
nition of the ideal penitent, rejecting pleasure and sin in exchange for
a life of penance and prayer. Her life also followed a path similar to the
order’s founder, Saint Francis. Both she and Francis became penitents
after experiencing a dramatic conversion and practicing the contempla-
tive life. Saint Francis’s high regard for the Magdalene is demonstrated in
his request for seven of his brothers to build their first convent in France
1 Laude were vernacular hymns sung by lay confraternities with close ties to poetry,
theater, and popular religious practice among the lay community. The full text reads, “Pec-
catrice nominata Magdalena da Dio amata. Magdalene decta stesti, nel castello in qual
nascesti, Martha per sora avesti nel vangelio asai laudata. Laçaro ti fue fratello sancto et
iusto, buono et bello, Christo amò sança ribello, poi ke poi che a llui fosti tornata. Fosti
piena di peccato, andasti a Christo re beato; nel convito l’ài trovato di Symeone che tt’à
spre.” Henry J. Grossi, The Fourteenth century Florentine Laudario Magliabechiano II, 1, 122
(B.R. 18): a Transcription and Study (Biblioteca nazionale centrale di Firenze, Laudario
Magliabechiano, reprint) (PhD diss., Catholic University of America, 1979), 324–5.
2 Luke 7:36–50.
22 michelle a. erhardt
near the Magdalene’s shrine in Vézelay. In devotional literature Francis-

can authors upheld Francis as a second Magdalene. By the fourteenth-
century, Franciscan breviaries record that the same liturgy was used to
celebrate both the feasts of Francis and Mary Magdalene.3
The desire to connect Francis to the Magdalene appears not only in
Franciscan writings and sermons, but also in their earliest commissioned
works of art. In representations of the Crucifixion from the first decades
of the fourteenth century, Mary Magdalene and Saint Francis appear as
nearly interchangeable figures standing at the foot of the cross next to
John the Evangelist and the Virgin Mary. Giotto’s Crucifixion (c. 1310)
from the lower church of San Francesco in Assisi, the Franciscan mother
church, is one such example (fig. 1.1). Here, Mary Magdalene sweetly kisses
the feet of the dead Christ while Francis kneels at her right with his hands
outstretched in longing. By the 1320s the Franciscans had furthered hon-
ored Mary Magdalene in San Francesco with her own chapel.4 After the
Virgin Mary, she became the first female saint in their mother church to
also be honored with her own cycle illustrating her life.5 This cycle, com-
monly accepted as the product of Giotto and his workshop, was widely
influential in establishing Magdalene iconography throughout Italy, espe-
cially in Florence.6 As the Franciscan order grew they molded and shaped
3 The feast of Francis of Assisi is celebrated on October 4th and the feast of Mary
Magdalene is July 22nd. See Katherine L. Jansen, “Mary Magdalen and the Mendicants:
The Preaching of Penance in the Late Middle Ages,” Journal of Medieval History 21 (1995):
1–25.
4 For the most comprehensive work to date on the Magdalen Chapel in San Francesco
see Lorraine Schwartz, “The Fresco Decoration of the Magdalen Chapel in the Basilica
of St. Francis at Assisi” (PhD diss., Indiana University, 1980). An excerpt was later pub-
lished in Schwartz, “Patronage and Franciscan Iconography in the Magdalen Chapel,
Assisi,”Burlington Magazine ( January 1991): 32–35. See also Borsook, Mural Painters of Tus-
cany; Nurith Kenaan-Kedar, “Emotion, Beauty and Franciscan Piety: A New Reading of the
Magdalene Chapel in the Lower Church of Assisi,” Studi Medievali 26/3 (1985): 699–710;
and Giovanni Previtali, “Le Cappelle di S. Nicola e di S. Maria Maddalena nella Chiesa
Inferiore di San Francesco,” Giotto e i Giotteschi in Assisi (Roma: Canesi, 1969).
5 Around 1368 a third chapel dedicated to Saint Catherine of Alexandria was dedicated
and decorated. Painted by the Bolognese artist Andrea de’Bartoli, it was located in the
lower church of San Francesco. Gianfranco Malafarina, La Basilica di San Francesco ad
Assisi (Modena: Franco Cosimo Panini, 2005), 74–81.
6 The Magdalene Chapel in San Francesco is the last chapel located on the north
side of the nave of the lower church and contains the following seven scenes from the
Life of Mary Magdalene: (1) The Magdalene Receives a Garment from the Hermit Zosimus,
(2) The Magdalene held aloft by angels and receives her Last Communion by Saint Maximinus,
(3) The Anointing in the House of the Pharisee, (4) The raising of Lazarus, (5) The Magdalene
holding colloquy with angels, (6) Noli me tangere, (7) The voyage and Miracle of Marseilles.
the magdalene as mirror 23
Fig. 1.1. Giotto, Crucifixion, 1310s, fresco, north transept, Lower Church, San Fran-
cesco, Assisi. Photo: Art Resource, New York.
Magdalene iconography within their own churches to reflect the aims of

their order and reinforce the tenets of their faith.
Identified as one of the best-preserved Franciscan cycles devoted to Mary
Magdalene from the Trecento, the Guidalotti-Rinuccini Chapel (c. 1363–71)
in the sacristy of Santa Croce in Florence demonstrates the influence of
Franciscan ideals on visual representations of the Magdalene (fig. 1.2).7
Paired with a cycle of the Infancy of the Virgin Mary, the Magdalene cycle
contains five scenes from the saint’s life—the Anointing, Christ in the
Home of Mary and Martha, the Raising of Lazarus, the Noli me tangere and
lastly, the Magdalene’s Miracle of Marseilles.8 Placed within the context of
Included in the chapel are also portraits of Lazarus and Martha, the Magdalene’s brother
and her sister according to the Gregorian conflation and medieval legend.
7 For the most recent scholarship on the Guidalotti-Rinuccini Chapel see See Michelle A.
Erhardt, “Two Faces of Mary: Franciscan Thought and Post-Plague Patronage in the
Trecento Fresco Decoration of the Guidalotti-Rinuccini Chapel of Santa Croce, Florence.”
(PhD diss., Indiana University, 2004).
8 The Miracle of Marseilles is the only scene in the Magdalene cycle not found in the
New Testament. Like the Marian Infancy cycle on the opposite wall, the scene is recorded
in the apocryphal life of Mary Magdalene by Jacobus of Voragine in his The Golden Leg-
end: Readings on the Saints, trans. William G. Ryan (Princeton, NJ: Princeton University
Fig. 1.2. Giovanni da Milano and Matteo da Pacino, Life of Mary Magdalene,

c. 1363–71, fresco. Guidalotti-Rinuccini Chapel, Santa Croce, Florence. Photo:
author.
Franciscan theology, three scenes in particular from the Magdalene cycle

expound central tenets of the order—the Anointing, the dedication to
penance; Christ in the Home of Mary and Martha, the observation of the
vita mixta, or the perfect union of the active and the contemplative lives;
and the Noli me tangere, the mission to preach. Unique to the cycle is the
inclusion of the scene of Christ in the Home of Mary and Martha. As pos-
sibly the only known illustration of this domestic dispute between the sis-
ters in fourteenth-century Italy, its presence signifies its importance to its
Franciscan audience. Emphasizing its significance, it was selected at the
expense of other frequently represented scenes, such as the Magdalene’s
Last Communion or an episode from her time as a penitent in the wil-
derness. Anomalies such as the depiction of Christ in the Home of Mary
and Martha in this program suggest that, although still rooted in the Gos-
pels and the Golden Legend, the iconography of this Magdalene cycle was
Press, 1993), vol. 1, 374–383. In fact, Voragine devotes the final third of the Magdalene’s
life to the retelling of the miracle, which is summarized below. According to the legend,
one day while Mary Magdalene was preaching, the pagan governor of Provence and his
wife approached her and tested her faith by saying that if her “God” was so great could
she pray to him to give them a son. To prove God’s omnipotence, Mary prayed they be
granted a son. The Lord heard her prayers and the woman conceived. In thanksgiving for
their blessing the governor decided to make a pilgrimage to Rome. Despite the danger
of going to sea while pregnant, his wife insisted on accompanying him. The Magdalene
blessed them on their journey and they set sail from Marseilles for Rome. Not long into
their journey a strong storm arose and the turbulent waters brought on the woman’s labor.
Through a difficult delivery she bore a son, only to die shortly afterwards. At the sight of
her dead body, the superstitious crew insisted they throw the dead mother and her child
overboard for fear of their own peril. Through his despair the governor looked out to sea
and caught sight of a rocky island in the distance. In desperation he convinced the crew
that they should at least bury the bodies on the island. When they landed the governor
discovered that the landscape was too rocky to bury his wife, so he laid her on the shore
with the infant child between her breasts.
The governor returned to the ship and sailed on to Rome. There, he met Saint Peter
who took him on a pilgrimage to Jerusalem to see all the places where Christ had preached
and where he had performed his many miracles. After two years, the governor decided to
return to his homeland and set sail for Marseilles. As they approached the rocky island
where they left his wife, he saw movement on the shore. A small child was running on the
beach. Frantic with disbelief, he jumped overboard and swam ashore to see if it was true.
His son was still alive! He grabbed the boy and exclaimed:
“O Mary Magdalene, how happy I would be, how well everything would have turned
out for me, if my wife were alive and able to return home with me. Indeed I know,
I know and believe beyond a doubt, that having given us this child and kept him
alive for two years on this rock, you could now, by your prayers, restore his mother to
life and health.” And with that, his wife awoke. Praising her the governor exclaimed,
“Great is your merit, O blessed Mary Magdalene, and you are glorious!”
The earliest known depiction of this scene is in thirteenth-century stained glass in Bur-
gundy. Although the miracle became immensely popular, it was less common in monu-
mental painting.
shaped by other influences, namely Franciscan theology and devotional

texts. This essay offers a new reading of the iconographic program of the
Magdalene cycle as a reflection of Franciscan ideals, showing how the
selection of scenes, both typical and unique, demonstrate a close connec-
tion between Franciscan devotional literature and visual imagery.
The Magdalene Cycle in Context
The Magdalene cycle in the Guidalotti-Rinuccini Chapel builds upon

established themes in Magdalene iconography to reflect contemporary
fourteenth-century Franciscan theology. One cornerstone of the Francis-
can mission in the Middle Ages was to convert sinners. To aid in this effort,
early Franciscan art and sermons portrayed Mary Magdalene as a para-
digm of penance. Her life became the model by which every sinful Chris-
tian could find hope for salvation. Early Magdalene cycles in Italy parallel
this moral tale in their selection and sequencing of images.9 Typically, her
9 Although the Magdalene was a common figure in scenes of the Crucifixion, full cycles
devoted to the saint were rare in Florence during the late thirteenth and early fourteenth
century. Of the ones that exist, three may have served as sources for the Guidalotti-Rinuc-
cini cycle, sharing similar themes and provenances: the Magdalene dossal (c. 1280–85),
the Magdalene Chapel in the lower church of San Francesco in Assisi (c. 1306–12) and the
Magdalene Chapel in the Palazzo del Podestà in Florence (c. 1320s). The Magdalene dossal
includes the following scenes: Anointing, Raising of Lazarus, Noli me tangere, Magdalene
Preaching to the Gauls, Magdalene Borne Aloft by Angels, Angel Feeding Mary Magdalene,
Magdalene Receiving Her Last Communion from Maximinus, and Death of Mary Magdalene.
For more on early Italian cycles dedicated to the Magdalene, see G. Sinibaldi and G. Bru-
netti, Pittura Italiana del Duecento e Trecento. Catalogo della Mostra Giottesca di Firenze del
1937 (Firenze: Sansoni, 1939), 231. For more on the Magdalene Chapel in Assisi, see notes 5–7.
The third prototype was possibly the Magdalene Chapel from the Palazzo del Podestà (or
city jail, now the modern day Bargello Museum), which acted originally as a sanctuary for
prisoners sentenced to death. On the night before execution the accused were sequestered
in the Magdalene Chapel. To aid in their spiritual comfort, members of the lay order of
Santa Croce della Croce al Tempio would spend this fateful night with the prisoner, giv-
ing him last rights, aiding in their penance and praying with them until their death. The
walls of the Magdalene Chapel are decorated in frescoes depicting eight scenes from the
Magdalene’s life, two scenes from the Life of John the Baptist, and a depiction of the Last
Judgment. The first seven scenes of the Magdalene cycle cover the entire right wall of
the chapel and read as follows: Anointing, Raising of Lazarus, and Women at the Tomb on
the top register, and the Noli me tangere, the Magdalene Fed by an Angel, the Magdalene
Receiving Her Last Communion and the Death of Mary Magdalene on the lower register.
The eighth and final scene, the Miracle of Marseilles, oddly occupies the lower left corner
of the left wall devoted to John the Baptist. Scholars believe the frescoes were completed
between 1322 and 1330 and were painted by a member of Giotto’s workshop, with the pos-
sible influence of the master himself. For a comprehensive bibliography on the frescoes
as well as some of the only published photos of the chapel see Giovanni Previtali, Giotto
cycles begin with the scene of the Anointing, or the Magdalene’s conver-
sion at Christ’s feet, and include scenes of the Raising of Lazarus and the
Noli me tangere. Scenes from her Provençal legend, including the Miracle
of Marseilles, her wilderness retreat, and her Last Communion were also
frequently represented.
Occupying the south wall of the Guidalotti-Rinuccini Chapel in Santa
Croce, the Magdalene cycle was created by Giovanni da Milano (c. 1320–69)
and Matteo di Pacino (a. 1360–74). The chapel was acquired posthu-
mously on behalf of Lapo di Lizio Guidalotti who died around 1350, leav-
ing instructions in his will for the purchase of a burial chapel in Santa
Croce. In the absence of an active patron, the chapel remained unadorned
until around 1363 at which time Giovanni da Milano, a follower of Taddeo
Gaddi, was hired to undertake the decoration of the chapel through the
intervention of the custodian of Santa Croce, Lodovico di Giovanni.10
The location of the chapel is critical to understanding its viewing con-
text and the identification of its intended audience. Isolated within the
sacristy of the church, the Guidalotti-Rinuccini is the only enclosed fam-
ily chapel situated within this space, limiting its intended audience to its
patrons and the friars of Santa Croce themselves who used the room for
the preparation of Mass. In addition, throughout the fourteenth century,
the sacristy served as one of the main arteries used by the friars daily in
their travels between the convent and the church.11 Further, in this era,
e la sua Bottega (Milan: Fratelli Fabbri Editori, 1993) and Janis Elliott, “The Judgment of
the Commune: The Frescoes of the Magdalen Chapel in Florence,” Zeitschrift fur Kunstge-
schichte 61/4 (1998): 509–13.
10 “. . . l’allogagione degli affreschi fu fatta, al nostro pittore, dal frescesco Lodovico di
Giovanni, custode del convento di S. Croce . . .” It is believed that this decision was made
despite the fact that payment for the decoration of the chapel was made through the
Company of Orsanmichele. See Ugo Procacci, “Il primo Ricordo di Giovanni da Milano
a Firenze,” Arte Antica e Moderna 13/16 (December 1981): 53n. Shortly after beginning the
project, however, funds for its decoration were exhausted and Giovanni abandoned the
chapel decoration, completing only the vault and the first two registers of the fresco cycles.
The chapel remained unfinished until 1370–71, when it was sold to Francisco Rinuccini, a
prominent Florentine diplomat and international trader. Rinuccini subsequently hired a
second artist, Matteo di Pacino, a member of Orcagna’s circle, to complete the third and
final register of the frescoes and installed a cancello dedicating the chapel to the Virgin
Mary and Saint Mary Magdalene in honor of his grandfather, Lapo Rinuccini. See Erhardt,
“Two Faces of Mary,” and also Ena Giurescu,“Trecento Family Chapels in Santa Maria
Novella and Santa Croce: Architecture, Patronage, and Competition” (PhD diss., New
York University, 1997). For the most recent work on Giovanni da Milano see, Giovanni
da Milano: Capolavori del Gotico fra Lombardia e Toscana, ed. Daniela Parenti (Florence:
Giunti, 2008).
11 For more on the location of the sacristy as well as the interactive nature of its imagery
see Michelle A. Erhardt, “Preparing the Mind. Preparing the Soul. The Fusion of Franciscan
the room also functioned as the chapter house for the order, thus making
the primary audience for the Magdalene cycle the friars of Santa Croce
themselves.12
Conversion and Penance: Renouncing the Worldly Life
Considering the Franciscan friars of Santa Croce as the primary viewing

audience for the Magdalene cycle in the Guidalotti-Rinuccini chapel, the
scenes chosen for the cycle reflect central doctrines of their order. The
Magdalene cycle opens with the Anointing, or her conversion at the feet
of Christ in the house of Simon the Pharisee, extolling the importance of
conversion and penance—central tenets of Franciscan theology (fig. 1.3).
Marking the beginning of the Magdalene’s penitent life, the scene is set
within the architectural framework of a house. The saint kneels at Christ’s
feet in the center of the composition. Dressed in her signature red robe,
symbolic of her caritas, or great love for God, she bows down before
Christ, shedding her tears to wash his feet. She then dries them with the
long, golden hair cascading down her back before anointing Christ with
the perfumed oil from her jar, begging forgiveness for her life of sin.13
Saint Francis believed that by preaching the story of spiritual conver-
sion and redemption, he could inspire others to leave behind their lives
of materialism in exchange for a life of penitence and prayer. Thomas
of Celano, Francis’s first biographer, records “(Francis) began to preach
penance to all with great fervor of spirit and joy of mind, edifying his
hearers with his simple words and his greatness of heart. His words were
like a burning fire, penetrating the inmost reaches of the heart, and it
Thought into the Daily Lives of Friars in the Sacristy Decoration of Santa Croce, Florence”
in Push Me: Pull You, Push Me, Pull You: Art and Devotional Interaction in Late Medieval
and Early Modern Europe, ed. Sarah Blick and Laura Gelfand (Leiden: Brill, 2011), vol. 2,
297–325.
12 Sonia Chiodo, Università degli Studi di Firenze, “The Formelle by Taddeo Gaddi and
a New Point of View: Context and Function of the Santa Croce Sacristy in the Trecento”
(paper, Conference on Trecento Art, University of Georgia, Athens, GA, November 12th,
2010).
13 My thanks to Susan Haskins who has pointed out the dual nature of the Magdalene’s
unbound hair in this scene. One reading suggests the loose hair represents the Magdalene’s
sexual past, but conversely, the loose hair could also be symbolic of her reconstituted vir-
ginity, a popular theme in medieval literature on Mary Magdalene. It is also interesting
to note that Saint John is absent from the scene as it is described in the Gospel of Luke.
Instead, Giovanni da Milano follows the artistic variations found in the Podestà Chapel, the
refectory of Santa Croce and some literary sources such as the Meditationes vitae Christi.
Fig. 1.3. Giovanni da Milano, Anointing of Mary Magdalene from the Life of Mary
Magdalene, c. 1363–71, fresco. Guidalotti-Rinuccini Chapel, Santa Croce, Florence.
Photo: Art Resource, New York.
filled the minds of all the hearers with admiration.”14 Like Francis, Mary
Magdalene’s conversion not only added great drama to her narrative, but
also conveyed a strong message of penance and restitution from sin to its
audience.
Variations of the scene of Mary Magdalene’s Anointing appear in all
four Gospels and were later transcribed into the life of the saint in the
Golden Legend (c. 1260) by Jacobus de Voragine.15 Voragine’s text stresses
the Magdalene’s conversion from a sinful life to one devoted to the teach-
ings of Christ, penance, and inward contemplation. Marina Warner notes
that symbolically in the Anointing Christ himself instituted the first
14 Thomas of Celano, First Life of Saint Francis printed in Saint Francis of Assisi: First and
Second Lives of Saint Francis, trans. Placid Hermann (Quincy: Franciscan Press, 1988), 23.
15 Luke 7:44–47, Matt 26:6–13, Mark 14:3–8, and John 12:1–8. For the medieval legend of
Mary Magdalene see Voragine, The Golden Legend, vol. 1, 374–383.
s acrament of penance when he absolved the Magdalene of all her sins.16

In the fresco Christ reaches down with his right hand and accepts the
Magdalene’s contrition for her sins, showing his acceptance with the open
palm of his hand in a gesture of absolution. It is also, as Andrea Begel
notes in her essay on the Magdalene and demonic possession, the only
depiction of this scene to include the detail of the seven demons fleeing
from the Magdalene’s tortured soul upon Christ’s forgiveness of her sins
described in Luke’s Gospel.17 These elements, including Christ’s gestures
and the exorcized demons, when placed in the context of the Franciscan
theology, reinforce the image’s connection to penance.
The Franciscan emphasis on penance paralleled the Church’s reinstitu-
tion of the sacrament of reconciliation. In 1215, the Fourth Lateran Coun-
cil, led by Pope Innocent III, decreed in canon twenty-one, De confessione
facienda et non revelanda a sacerdote et salte in pascha communicando,
that in order to participate in Holy Communion, every member of the
church was obliged to make annual confession of his or her sins. To this
obligation was added the necessity of fulfilling the penance or satisfac-
tion imposed by one’s priest. The sanction ordered excommunication and
forbade Christian burial to those who did not comply.18 The Franciscans
were further motivated to promote the sacrament to their followers after
Saint Francis visited Pope Innocent III in Rome in 1209 to request approval
of the order. Innocent gave the friars permission to preach on the condi-
tion that they limit their preaching to the theme of repentance.19 A letter
written by Francis at the end of his life records his feelings on the subject,
16 Marina Warner, Alone of All Her Sex: The Myth and the Cult of the Virgin Mary (New
York: Alfred Knopf, 1976), 226.
17 See Andrea Begel’s essay in part five of this volume, “Exorcism in the Iconography
of Mary Magdalene.” Thomas Zeller also notes that Simon the Pharisee picks up the table
linen in order to aid the viewer in seeing the Magdalene underneath the table, drawing
attention to his sense of shame. As host it was his responsibility to offer to wash the feet
of his guest. See Thomas Zeller, Die Salbung bei Simon dem Pharisäer und in Bethanien
(Cologne: Böhlau Verlag, 1997), 157.
18 Decrees of the Ecumenical Councils, trans. Norman Tanner (Washington, D.C.: Sheed
and Ward, 1990), vol. 1, 245–246.
19 See Thomas of Celano, First Life, 33. For a discussion of penance and its prolifera-
tion by the mendicants as well as its affect upon lay confraternities see John Hederson,
“Penitence and the Laity in Fifteenth-Century Florence,” Christianity and the Renaissance:
Image and Religious Imagination in the Quattrocento, ed. Timothy Verdon and John Hen-
derson (Syracuse: Syracuse University Press, 1990): 229–249. See also Anna Benvenuti-Papi,
“I Frati della Panitenza nella Società Fiorentina del Due-Trecento,” I Frati Penitenti di San
Franceso nella Società del Due e Trecento, ed. Mariano d’Alatri (Rome: Instituto Storico dei
Cappuccini, 1977), 191–213.
“In all your sermons you shall tell the people of the need to do penance,
impressing upon them that no one can be saved unless he receives the
Body and Blood of our Lord.”20
The Anointing became a premier event in the Magdalene’s medieval
legend and played a significant role in Franciscan devotional literature.
The Meditationes vitae Christi (c. 1300) is one such example. Attributed to
Pseudo-Bonaventure, the text was designed as a spiritual primer for a Poor
Clare, a member of the sister order of the Franciscans, and experienced
widespread popularity throughout the fourteenth century.21 Intended as
an aid for contemplation and meditation, the text continuously exhorts its
reader to meditate on the events of Christ’s life, such as the scene of the
Anointing, as if present as an eyewitness. By the late thirteenth century,
the Franciscans were associated with an ardent spirituality that came
from this very interactive type of devotional practice. With each chapter
of the Meditationes the reader imagines himself or herself entering Christ’s
world, walking alongside him during the major events of his life as well as
his Passion and Resurrection.
Within the text, the author employs Mary Magdalene as one of its cen-
tral protagonists.22 Through her eyes and her actions, the reader bears
witness to the Passion of Christ. Chapter twenty-eight titled, “Of the Con-
version of Saint Mary Magdalene,” details how Mary upon hearing Christ
was so moved by his preaching that she went to him. With her head
20 St. Francis of Assisi: Writings and Early Biographies, English Omnibus of Sources for the
Life of St. Francis, ed. Marion Habig (Quincy: Franciscan Press, 1991), 113.
21 For more information on the Poor Clares and their role in art in Italy in this period
see Jeryldene Wood, Women, Art, and Spirituality: The Poor Clares of Early Modern Italy
(Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1996).
22 Authorship is now commonly ascribed to a fourteenth-century Tuscan commonly
referred to as Pseudo-Bonaventure. Although it was originally written in Latin, the wide-
spread popularity of the document led to its translation in vernacular languages through-
out Europe. Pseudo-Bonaventure, Meditations on the Life of Christ, a 14th century Italian
Manuscript (BNP, Ms. Ital. 115), trans. Isa Ragusa and Rosalie Green (Princeton: Princeton
University Press, 1961). See Sarah McNamer, “The Origins of the Meditationes vitae Christi,”
Speculum 84, 4 (2009): 905–955. By the fifteenth century, the Magdalene’s popularity had
risen to an all-time high in Florence. However, as the fifteenth century approached Fran-
ciscan devotion to the saint began to wane and the Observant Reform movement of the
Dominican order began to champion the Magdalene’s cause. Based at the monastery of
San Marco and led by Cardinal Giovanni Dominici, Bishop Antoninus, the powerful arch-
bishop of Florence, and Savonarola, the Dominicans accelerated her popularity by con-
tinuing to incorporate her into popular preaching and devotional prayer. Sarah Wilk, “The
Cult of Mary Magdalen in Fifteenth-century Florence and its Iconography,” Studi Medievali
26/3 (1985): 685.
bowed and eyes lowered she fell at his feet. Her heart was so filled with
sorrow and shame that she began to cry loudly and said to herself,
O my Lord, I know, I believe, and confess firmly that you are my God and
my Lord. I have offended your Majesty in many and important ways. I have
sinned against your every law and have multiplied my sins above the num-
ber of sands in the sea. But I, the wicked sinner, come for your mercy; I am
grieved and afflicted; I beg for your pardon, prepared to make amends for
my sins and never to depart from obedience to you.23
The author goes on to describe how her tears ran so hard that they began
to wash Christ’s feet. Shaken by the event, she carefully began to dry his
feet with her hair, the most precious possession she owned. To Mary
Magdalene, it was only fitting that the object of her vanity would be the
one she would convert to good use.
A fourteenth-century Italian copy of the Meditationes, now in the Biblio-
thèque Nationale in Paris, Ms. Ital 115, illustrates this same scene (fig. 1.4).24
In the illumination the Magdalene lies prostrate on the floor beneath the
table, drying Christ’s feet with her long hair. Above, Christ lifts his right
hand in blessing forgiving the Magdalene of her sins. The image shares the
same iconographic emphasis as the Magdalene cycle in Santa Croce. The
Anointing eventually became one of the most frequently illustrated and
recognizable images from Mary Magdalene’s vita. Its prevalence in Fran-
ciscan art suggests that it conveyed the powerful messages of conversion
and penance. To the public, it represented Christ as accessible and loving,
the friend of outcasts and sinners, even those guilty of the most egregious
of sins. For the friars who frequented the sacristy it conveyed the impor-
tance of penance on a personal level and recalled their mission to empha-
size penance as a means to salvation to their fellow Florentines.
Vita Mixta, The Mixed Life of the Franciscans
The second theme of the Santa Croce Magdalene cycle speaks to the
uniqueness of the Franciscan mission, specifically their devotion to the
vita mixta or mixed life. The second register begins with Christ in the House
of Mary and Martha, a direct reference to the uniquely mendicant practice
23 Pseudo-Bonaventure, Meditations on the Life of Christ, 171–2.

24 Of the two hundred or so known copies of the Meditations, only twenty include still
retain their original illustrations, with BNP Ms. Ital 115 being one of the earliest and most
comprehensive.
Fig. 1.4. Christ Anointed by Mary Magdalene, illustration 155, in Pseudo-Bonaventure,

Meditationes vitae Christi, early fourteenth century, BN Paris, Ms. it. 115. Photo:
Bibliothèque Nationale, Paris.
of joining the active and contemplative lives (fig. 1.5). In the scene, taken
from Luke 10: 38–41, Mary Magdalene sits poised at Christ’s feet listening
eagerly to his teachings. She wears her traditional red robe and uses it
to cover her long, sumptuous hair in a gesture of modesty. Before her,
Christ raises his right hand toward heaven, extolling the Magdalene’s
virtue and reward for knowing the value of his teachings. Martha, who
stands resentful on the Magdalene’s other side, gestures towards the
kitchen in disgust looking to Christ to scorn her sister and motivate her
to remember her duty as hostess. To distance Martha from the rest of
the scene’s main participants, the artist dresses her in contemporary
costume—a green tunic and crimson skirt, accessorized with an apron
and white cap. Next to her Lazarus and the other apostles carefully read
Christ’s reaction to the sisters’ dispute while a servant tends the kitchen
fire outside the door.
This depiction of the domestic dispute between sisters is unique in four-
teenth century Italy. Earlier representations of this episode occurred in
illustrated Bibles, especially bibles moralisées, but rarely appeared in mon-
umental cycles of the Magdalene’s vita. In fact, the Guidalotti-Rinuccini
Fig. 1.5. Giovanni da Milano, Christ in the Home of Mary and Martha from the Life
of Mary Magdalene, c. 1363–71, fresco. Guidalotti-Rinuccini Chapel, Santa Croce,
Florence. Photo: Art Resource, New York.
cycle is one of the few known illustrations of the scene in monumental

Italian art prior to the sixteenth century when this scene became more
common in Italian painting.25
While the subject of the scene, essentially two squabbling sisters, raises
the question of what meaning it held for male friars, when placed within
the context of Franciscan theology the scene reveals a close association
with the mendicant adoption of both the active and contemplative lives.
Similar to the Anointing, the meaning of this biblical episode was explored
in Franciscan devotional literature. Aldobrandino Cavalcanti emphasized
that Mary Magdalene’s seated position denoted her contemplative state,
25 See Jane Couchman, “Actio and Passio. The Iconography of the Scene of Christ at
the Home of Mary and Martha,” Studi Medievali, 26/3 (1985): 712. See also Gertrud Schiller,
Iconography of Christian Art, trans. Janet Seligman (Greenwich: New York Graphic Society,
1971), 159 and Ena Giurescu Heller, “Sibling Rivalry: Martha and Mary of Bethany,” in From
the Margins 2: Women of the New Testament and their Afterlives, ed. Christine Joynes and
Christopher Rowland (Sheffield: Phoenix Press, 2009), 244–61.
her repose of mind. The Augustinian theologian, Giacomo Capocci da Vit-

erbo (d. 1308), archibishop of Benevento and Naples, preached that, “while
Martha labored to feed Christ corporeally, Mary was being fed spiritually
by the word of the Lord.”26
Early theologians pointed out that Christ did not choose to criticize
Martha because her actions are good within themselves, but rather
encouraged the role that Mary Magdalene chose. Saint Augustine added
that while “Martha’s part is holy and great, Mary’s part will not pass away
for the delight of the human heart—of a faithful and holy human heart—
in the light of truth and the affluence of wisdom, if it be sweet now, will
then be sweeter by far.”27
Because of the rarity of this scene in the visual art of this period, its
presence here suggests that its source was literary rather than visual.
Returning to the highly influential Meditationes vitae Christi, the episode
is a touchstone for a series of fourteen chapters on the virtues of the active
and contemplative lives, one of the longest treatments of a single sub-
ject in the text. The author bases much of his discussion on the writings
of Bernard of Clairvaux and explains to his readers that the two sisters
represent the two lives, the active and the contemplative. Martha earns
virtue through her good works while Mary represents the intellect and
earns wisdom.28
A selection of the text from chapter forty-five entitled, “Of the Ministry
of Mary and Martha: Also the Order of the Contemplation and How It
Has Two Parts” elucidates the connection contemporary Franciscan theo-
logians made between Mary and Martha and the Franciscan life. To the
26 Katherine L. Jansen, “Mary Magdalene and the Mendicants in Late Medieval Italy”
(PhD diss., Princeton University, 1995), 49.
27 Sermon 179, PL 38, 967–970. Cited in Dom Cuthbert Butler, Western Mysticism: the
Teaching of Augustine, Gregory and Bernard on Contemplation and Contemplative Life (Lon-
don: Constable, 1967), 161.
28 The chapters are as follows: XLV. Of the Ministry of the Martha and Mary; Also of the
Order of Contemplation and How It Has Two Parts; XLVI. The Active Precedes the Contem-
plative; XLVII. How the Contemplative Comes Before the Second Part of the Active; XLVIII.
Of the Exercise of the Active Life; XLIX. Of the Exercise of the Contemplative Life; L. Of the
Three Kinds of Contemplation; LI. Of the Contemplation of the Humanity of Christ; LII. Of the
Contemplation of the Celestial Court; LIII. Of the Contemplation of the Majesty of God; Also,
Four Are the Kinds of Contemplation; LIV. Of the Manner of Living in the Active Life; Also the
Good Authority of Bernard; LV. Of the Manner of Living in the Contemplative Life; LVI. Of the
Four Impediments of Contemplation; LVII. The Contemplative Life is Placed Before the Active;
LVIII. From Three Causes, the Contemplator Retire to the Active; Also of Why Faith Without
Works is Dead. These fourteen chapters are transcribed in Ragusa and Green’s publication
of the BNP Ms. Ital 115 text, pages 245–285.
author, Martha represents the active life when one works to the “advan-
tage of one’s neighbor by deeds of justice and by the services of piety and
charity . . . (and when) ruling and teaching and helping others with the
salvation of souls, as is the case with prelates and preachers.”29 The role
of Mary Magdalene, however, represents the contemplative life when one
“reposes in contemplation, searching for solitude of mind and attending
only to God with all his might.”30 According to Franciscan theology, it
is only through a combination of the two lives that the soul can be per-
fected. The author explains, “First, as I have mentioned, it is necessary
that in the active, that is, the first part, the mind should be purged, puri-
fied, and fortified by the exercise of virtue. Then it should be formed in
the contemplative and be illuminated and instructed. Then it can securely
turn to the profit and utility of others, and help them.”31
Unlike earlier monastic orders, which focused solely on the contem-
plative life, mendicants like Francis and his followers adopted what was
known as the vita mixta, or mixed life.32 In their active lives they minis-
tered to the poor and preached in public squares, giving sermons for the
first time in the vernacular and making their message of penance and
salvation accessible to all members of society. In their contemplative lives
the friars devoted themselves to prayer, studying sacred literature, and
29 Pseudo-Bonaventure, Meditations on the Life of Christ, 246.

30 Pseudo-Bonaventure, Meditations on the Life of Christ, 247.
31 Unfortunately, the illustrations for the BNP Ms. Ital. 115 were never finished. However,
written directions were included to the left of the text for the illuminator to complete,
including six scenes from Christ in the Home of Mary and Martha, a significant number
dedicated to a single biblical narrative compared to the rest of the text. Transcribed from
Meditations, Ragusa and Green, 448–449, the illustrations of the text were to include: Fig-
ure 205 (Fol. 140r., 2.) Christ in the House of Mary and Martha (Instructions: Here how He
goes to the house of Mary Magdalene with the disciples); Figure 206 (Fol. 140v., 1.) Christ in
the House of Mary and Martha: Martha Complaining (Instructions: Here how Martha went
to the Lord, that He should tell Mary to help); Figure 207 (Fol. 140v., 2.) Christ in the House
of Mary and Martha: Martha Arranging the House (Instructions: Here how Martha Arranges
the House); Figure 208 (Fol. 141ro,m 1) Christ in the House of Mary and Martha: Mary
Bringing Water (Instructions: Here how she gives the Lord water for his hands); Figure 209
(Fol. 141ro., 2.) Christ in the House of Mary and Martha: at Table (Instructions: Here how
they are at table). Pseudo-Bonaventure, Meditations on the Life of Christ, 246–247.
32 For more discussion on the mendicant adoption of the vita mixta see the following:
Jacobus Heerinckx, OFM, “Vita activa et vita contemplative secundum S. Antonium Pata-
vinum,” Apostolicum 1 (1932): 7; Katherine L. Jansen, The Making of the Magdalen, 50–52;
Mary Elizabeth Mason, Active life and contemplative life, a study of the concepts from Plato
to the present (Milwaukee: Marquette University Press, 1961), and Ronald Mrozinski, Fran-
ciscan prayer life: the Franciscan active-contemplative synthesis and the role of centers of
prayer (Chicago: Franciscan Herald Press, 1981).
meditating on penance, which was very dear to Saint Francis’s heart.33

The Franciscans considered this ‘third way’ of life, the best. As Bernardino
of Siena (d.1444) stated, “Having first the knowledge of nature through the
active life, comes the knowledge of glory through the contemplative life;
from these two lives comes a third, namely the mixed life which com-
prises both God and man.”34
For the Franciscans their association with the roles of Mary and Martha
took on even greater significance when the vita mixta became a distin-
guishing characteristic of their order. In 1274 at the Second Council of
Lyons the mendicant orders were criticized for being a nuisance to the
bishops and clergy. Yet, in their defense, Pope Gregory X rebuked, “If you
lived as they live and studied as they study, you would have the same suc-
cess. They perform, at the same time, the roles of Mary and Martha. Like
Mary they sit at the feet of the Lord, and like Martha they do everything
to serve him.”35
Drawn from Franciscan devotional literature, the unusual representa-
tion of Christ in the House of Mary and Martha demonstrates the Fran-
ciscans’ manipulation of Magdalene iconography in order to reinforce
their doctrine and teachings. In their public lives they were ministers
and preachers to the poor and in their private lives they were contempla-
tives, praying perpetually for the sins of world. Similar to the scene of the
Anointing, the subject of Christ in the House of Mary and Martha con-
veyed different levels of meaning to the general public and to the Fran-
ciscan brothers who viewed the scene on a daily basis. While on a general
level the image extolled the importance of being a captive listener, or good
audience, to the word of God, for Franciscan friars, the image evoked the
importance of combining the active and contemplative lives.
Preaching: The Active Life
Along with an emphasis on repentance and the vita mixta, the final typi-
cally Franciscan theme found in the Magdalene cycle in the Guidalotti-
Rinuccini Chapel is the importance of preaching and mystical apparitions.
33 Millard Meiss, Great Age of Fresco (New York: Metropolitan Museum of Art, 1970), 13.
34 Bernardino of Siena, Sermone XLIV in Le prediche volgari, ed. Piero Bargellini (Milan:
Rizzoli & Co., 1936), 1056.
35 John Moorman, History of the Franciscan Order From its origins until 1517 (Oxford:
Clarendon Press, 1968), 177–78.
The mission of the Franciscan order was in large part framed by the Fourth
Lateran Council that instructed the friars to preach in order to “extirpate
heresy, recover the Holy Land and renew the life of the Church at every
level.”36 The fourth scene of the cycle depicts the Noli me tangere, or Mary
Magdalene as the first witness to Christ’s Resurrection (fig. 1.6). It was
one of the most popular scenes to be illustrated from the saint’s vita and
conveyed a unique message to the friars of Santa Croce.37
Fig. 1.6. Giovanni da Milano and Matteo di Pacino, Noli me tangere and the Two
Women at the Tomb, from the Life of Mary Magdalene, c. 1363–71, fresco. Guid-
alotti-Rinuccini Chapel, Santa Croce, Florence. Photo: Art Resource, New York.
36 Michael Robson, The Franciscans in the Middle Ages (Woodbridge: Boydell Press,
2004), 48.
37 The Noli me tangere and the Women at the Tomb is the first of two scenes painted
by Matteo di Pacino. Although Matteo was hired by Francisco Rinuccini to complete the
chapel’s fresco cycles around 1371, it is likely, especially in this panel that he was following
the design laid out by Giovanni da Milano. The hand of the first artist is evident in the
composition, coloring and the figural type in this panel. It likely represents Giovanni’s last
work on the chapel before leaving Florence for work in the Vatican in 1369.
Making it iconographically unique, the Noli me tangere, derived from the

Gospel of John, was combined in the cycle with the story of the women
at the tomb from the synoptic Gospels.38 By the fourteenth century, the
two scenes appeared separately, with the detail of the women at the tomb
being simply eliminated, privileging the Noli me tangere. Here, however,
the artist, following John’s Gospel, placed both scenes within the same
walled garden. Visually dividing the scene in half, in the right corner
the two Marys discover the empty tomb. Three angels, dressed in daz-
zling white liturgical robes, inform the women of Christ’s Resurrection.
Both women, heads covered and perfume jars in hand, stand with their
backs to the exchange between Mary Magdalene and Christ. There, Mary
Magdalene mistakes Christ for a gardener. Dressed again in red with her
long, sumptuous, blonde hair exposed, she kneels when she recognizes
Christ and reaches out to embrace her lost friend. Christ, dressed in a
brilliant white robe with gold trim rebukes her advances by raising his
arm to stop her.
The theme of the Three Marys, and especially the theme of Christ’s
appearance to Mary Magdalene (Noli me tangere) were also reflected in
Franciscan literature of the period. In his devotional treatise the Arbor
Vitae Crucifixae, the Spiritual Franciscan Umbertino da Casale wrote that
the Three Marys at the Tomb represented the three mystical states of the
soul: conversion, perseverance, and perfection.39 Similarly, in his treat-
ment of the subject in the Lignum Vitae, Bonaventure expounds upon the
Magdalene’s love for Christ being so strong that she is unable to keep
away from the tomb. He writes,
Mary Magdalene was borne along by such a burning in her heart, moved by
such sweetness of piety and drawn by such strong bonds of love, that, for-
getting her feminine weakness, she was held back from visiting the tomb by
neither the darkness of night nor the cruelty of the persecutors. Rather, she
stood outside and bathed the tomb with her tears. Although the disciples
had fled, she did not go away. Ablaze with the fire of divine love, she burned
with such a powerful desire and was wounded with such an impatient love
38 Matthew 28:1–9, Mark 16:1–8, and Luke 24: 1–12 all describe one or more women
being the first to reach the tomb. Each version articulates that Mary Magdalene was
among these women. John 20: 10–18 is the only account that tells of the Noli me tangere,
and the Magdalene being the sole witness.
39 Taken from homilies from 1302–1304, the passage reads, “Sed primo videamus triplicem
statum animate per has triplices mulieres mytice designatum scilicet Conversionis, Conver-
sationis, Consumationis. Primus est status in magdlaen designatus . . . quia erat peccatrix.”
Arbor Vitae Crucifixae (Venice, De Bonettis de Papa, 1485), Book 3, ch. 23, unpaginated.
Cited in Jansen, “Mary Magdalene and the Mendicants in Late Medieval Italy,” 32.
that nothing had any taste for her except to be able to weep and to utter in
truth those words of the Prophet, “My tears were my food day and night, as
they say to me day after day: “Where is your God?” (Ps. 41:4).40
Bonaventure went further to explain why the Magdalene was chosen to
be the first witness to the Resurrection, “There were four reasons—first,
because she loved him (meaning Christ) more ardently than the rest; sec-
ond, to show that he had come for sinners; third, in order to condemn
human pride, and lastly to instill faith.”41 Propelling the popularity of this
scene in the fourteenth century were medieval preachers who described
Mary Magdalene as the exemplar of the reformed sinner for whom Christ
returned to save.
In a more dramatic vein some medieval theologians viewed this scene
as evidence of the Magdalene as the apostolorum apostola, or the apostle
to the apostles. As Ubertino da Casale noted, “Now He even chose the
Magdalene once a sinner to announce the glory of his resurrection to the
beloved disciples.”42 Supporting this claim is Phillipe Cabassole’s account
of the ‘rediscovery’ of Mary Magdalene’s relics in Provence in 1279. He
identified the small frond found growing out of the saint’s mouth as a sign
that she not only announced Christ’s Resurrection to the apostles, but she
also preached the good news to the pagans in Gaul at the end of her life.43
Significantly, the charge to preach was one of the primary missions of the
Franciscans as well as a key component of their vita activa, or active life.
In his declaration of Francis’s sainthood in 1228 Gregory IX recounted the
founder’s powerful ability to preach,
Filled with the Holy Spirit, he (Francis) took up the jawbone of an ass,
preaching in simple words, not with the plausible words of human wisdom,
but with the mighty strength of God, who chose what is weak in the world
to shame the strong. With this weapon, through the grace of the one who
touches the mountains and makes them smoke, he slew, not just a thou-
sand, but many thousands of Philistines, bringing them back to spiritual ser-
vitude those who had previously been enslaved by the pleasure of the flesh.
Once they were dead to their vices and could live for God and no longer for
40 Bonaventure, The Soul’s Journey Into God, The Tree of Life, the Life of Saint Francis,
trans. Ewert Cousins (Mahwah: Paulist Press, 1978), 157–8.
41 Commentarius in evangelium S. Lucae in S. Bonaventurae S.R.E. Episcopi Cardina-
lis Opera Omnia, 10 vols., ed. PP. Collegii S. Bonaventurae (Quaracchi: Typ. Collegii S.
Bonaventurae, 1882–1902), vol. 7 (1895), 590, cited in Jansen, Making of the Magdalene, 58.
42 Jansen, “Mary Magdalene and the Mendicants,” 89.
43 Katherine L. Jansen, “Maria Magdalena: Apostolorum Apostola,” Women Preachers
and Prophets through Two Millennia of Christianity, ed. Beverly Kienzle et al. (Berkeley:
University of California Press, 1998), 57–97.
themselves, from the moment that their old selves were killed, there flowed
forth for them from that same jawbone (meaning Francis) abundant waters,
which refreshed the fallen, cleansed the filthy and irrigated the dry.44
In essence, Francis followed the Magdalene’s path of becoming a contem-
plative recluse as well as a “naked follower of Christ, preaching and suf-
fering for the faith.”45
Further illustrating this connection, the Noli me tangere also shares one
important trend in Franciscan art of the period—the depiction of mysti-
cal apparition. The scene’s inherent focus on Christ appearing to Mary
Magdalene from beyond the earthly realm parallels a Franciscan fasci-
nation with scenes of mysticism and visions. Among the most popular
scenes to be illustrated from Francis’s own vita are his Apparition at Arles
(fig. 1.7) and the Stigmatization of Saint Francis (fig. 1.8). Like the Noli me
tangere, the scene of Francis’s Apparition recounts an event when Francis
appeared to Anthony of Padua while preaching in Arles in 1224. Hovering
above the congregation of friars, Saint Francis stands with this arms out-
stretched in a shape of a cross, blessing Anthony’s good words and ordain-
ing his role as head of the order. Like the Noli me tangere, both Anthony
and Mary Magdalene are charged with the mission to preach. Anthony
would become Francis’s choice as the first scholar and theologian of the
Order of Friars Minor and Mary Magdalene would become Christ’s choice
to be the apostola apostolorum, or apostle to the apostles, and convey the
good news of the Resurrection.
An even more striking parallel exists between the representation of
Mary Magdalene in the Noli me tangere and that of Francis in the Stigma-
tization of Saint Francis. Both scenes focus on intimate encounters where
Christ mystically appears to the saints, marking them either physically or
spiritually in some way. In both, the aspect of ‘touch’ is implied.46 In the
Noli me tangere, Mary Magdalene reaches out to touch Christ and he stops
her, gently expressing that he is no longer ‘of this world.’ In the Stigmati-
zation, Christ reaches out to touch Francis and imprints the wounds of his
stigmata upon his body. In both scenes, the barrier between heaven and
44 Mira circa nos of Gregory IX (1228) cited in Francis of Assisi: Early Documents, vol. I,
ed. Regis Armstrong, J.A. Wayne Hellmann, and William Short (New York: New City Press,
2008), 566–67.
45 Jansen, “Mary Magdalene and the Mendicants in Late Medieval Italy,” 73.
46 For more on the importance and relationship of ‘touch’ in the Noli me tangere see
the essay in this volume by Barbara Baert, “The Gaze in the Garden: Mary Magdalene in
the Noli me tangere.”
Fig. 1.7. Giotto, Apparition at Arles from the Life of Saint Francis, 1325, fresco.
280 × 450 cm, Bardi Chapel, Santa Croce, Florence. Photo: Art Resource, New York.
earth is transcended and the saints are offered the unique privilege of an
audience with the divine Christ in the form of a mystical apparition. For
both Francis and Mary Magdalene their encounters with Christ elevated
them. They were chosen specifically by Christ for his mission and became
his messengers, preaching his good news.
To the public the scene of the Noli me tangere and the Women at the
Tomb was a critical moment in the Resurrection narrative. In the four-
teenth century it was an image that spoke to the unique role of Mary
Magdalene and how she symbolically represented the sins of mankind for
whom Christ returned to save. To the Franciscan friars of Santa Croce, the
meaning of the image was even more profound. The scene spoke to their
mission of preaching. Whether in the Piazza Santa Croce or down on the
banks of the Arno in the crowded slums occupied by wool dyers, their
active lives were consumed with encouraging Florentines to turn their
hearts to God. In addition, the scene reminded them of the unique role
their founder Francis held in the eyes of God. As one of the few saints of
the medieval era to receive the stigmata, Francis was often called the alter
Christus, or other Christ, because of how closely he followed in the foot-
steps of Jesus. Because of their distinctive natures both Mary Magdalene
Fig. 1.8. Giotto, Stigmatization of Saint Francis from the Life of Saint Francis, 1325,
fresco, 390 × 370 cm, Bardi Chapel, Santa Croce, Florence. Photo: Art Resource,
New York.
and Francis became tangible role models by which every Franciscan friar
could aspire to emulate.
Epilogue
The Magdalene cycle in the Guidalotti-Rinuccini Chapel of Santa Croce

offers the modern viewer a unique glimpse into the world of fourteenth-
century Franciscan thought. Embedded within the cycle are three themes
central to medieval Franciscan theology. The Anointing is emblematic
of the Franciscan devotion to penance. The scene of Christ in the Home
of Mary and Martha elevated the Franciscan practice of the vita mixta,
or mixed life, and the Franciscan harmony between the active and con-
templative lives. The Noli me tangere became a standard episode in
the Magdalene’s vita, echoing the theme of the Resurrection and the
Magdalene as a witness to these critical events, the one chosen by God
for both her sinfulness and her conversion. It was the Magdalene who
also became the ‘apostle to the apostles’ reinforcing the friars mission to
preach the importance of repentance in the public squares of Florence. As
Saint Ambrose so aptly describes,
She [Mary Magdalene] . . . washed the Lord’s feet with her tears, dried them
with her hair and anointed them with ointment,
who in the time of grace did solemn penance,
who chose the best part,
who sat at the Lord’s feet and listened to his word,
who anointed his head,
who stood beside the cross at his passion,
who prepared the sweet spices with which to anoint his body,
who when the disciples left the tomb, did not go away,
to whom the risen Christ first appeared, making her an apostle to the
apostles.”47
When placed within the context of the chapel’s private nature and its
intended audience of Franciscan friars, the choice of subject matter and the
combination of scenes are profound. The cycle borrows references directly
from scripture as well as devotional literature to create a compact expres-
sion of Franciscan ideals. It is well known that fresco painting became an
important vehicle for Franciscans to convey church teachings to a mostly
illiterate public. However, upon closer examination, it is evident that the
cycle also proves that the friars of Santa Croce used the Magdalene cycle
to reinforce Franciscan doctrine and beliefs to themselves.
47 Cited in Voragine, The Golden Legend: Readings on the Saints, vol. 1, 376.
chapter two
mary Magdalene and her dear sister:

Innovation in the late medieval mural Cycle
of Santa Maddalena in Rencio (Bolzano)
Joanne W. Anderson*
In the late fourteenth century, iconographic invention in the art of Mary

Magdalene was not limited to prominent urban centers where the mendi-
cant orders typically flourished. Frequently overlooked in scholarship, new
ways of representing the Magdalene appeared in small parish churches
in remote or rural locations removed from direct mendicant influence.
Home to a high concentration of Magdalene cycles, a distinct rural Alpine
region, which includes Alto Adige (south Tyrol), introduced an unparal-
leled number of iconographic inventions in its Magdalene imagery.1 (fig.
2.1) While the cycles from this Alpine region depict many traditional
events from the life of the saint, as outlined in the Bible and in Jacobus
de Voragine’s Golden Legend, they deviate significantly from the canonical
imagery developed by the mendicants in the fourteenth and the fifteenth
centuries and that appeared in Angevin contexts.2 Drawing upon sources
beyond Voragine’s popular legend, the Alpine cycles present detailed epi-
sodes of Mary Magdalene’s worldly life and ministry in Gaul, including
her role in the Marseilles miracle, her eremitical retreat and, more unusu-
ally, the posthumous miracles that confirmed her intercessory efficacy to
* I would like to thank the editors for inviting me to contribute to the anthology and
for their exemplary guidance throughout the process. As an early career scholar, it is both
an honour and a delight to thank Hannes Obermair, Director of the Archivio Storico della
Città di Bolzano, not only for his generous support of my research but also his unfail-
ing enthusiasm and encouragement. I am grateful to Bettina Ravanelli for some vital and
superb photography. My heartfelt thanks to Louise Bourdua, Beat Kümin, Karen Lang and
close friends for their help in the preparation of this essay. Finally, I acknowledge and
thank the Arts and Humanities Research Council for the financial support of my doctoral
research from which it stems.
1 Joanne W. Anderson, “The Magdalen Fresco Cycles of the Trentino, Tyrol and Swiss
Grisons, c. 1300–c. 1500,” (PhD Diss., University of Warwick, 2009).
2 See the essay in this anthology by Michelle Erhardt, “The Magdalene as Mirror:
Trecento Franciscan Imagery in the Guidalotti-Rinuccini Chapel, Florence.”
46 joanne w. anderson
Fig. 2.1. Map of northern Italy and the Alpine regions (red text indicates the loca-
tion of Magdalene fresco cycles). Map: author and Nicholas Dease.
those who would seek her help in their daily lives through private and
communal prayer.3
One of the most important examples of the Magdalene cycles produced
in this mountainous region is the late fourteenth-century fresco cycle in
the church of Santa Maddalena in Rencio.4 (figs. 2.2–2.4) This cycle testi-
fies to the remarkable iconographic flexibility that occurred in peripheral
locations, where devotion to the Magdalene was not inspired or directly
influenced by the Dominican and Franciscan orders (mendicants). Nearby
3 See Joanne Anderson, “Devotional and Artistic Responses to the Cult of Mary
Magdalen in Trentino-Alto Adige, c. 1300–c. 1500: The Case of Cusiano,” in Visual Exports /
Imports. New Research on Medieval and Renaissance Art and Culture, ed. Emily Jane Ander-
son, Jill Farquhar and John Richards (Newcastle-Upon-Tyne: Cambridge Scholars Publish-
ing, 2012).
4 See George Kaftal, The Iconography of the Saints in the Painting of North East Italy (Flor-
ence: Sansoni, 1978), 707–24; Katherine Jansen, The Making of the Magdalen: Preaching and
Popular Devotion in the Later Middle Ages (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 2000),
160–1; Susan Haskins, Mary Magdalen: The Essential History (London: Pimlico, 2005), 160–3
and 223–4. For the most recent cataloguing of the mural decoration with bibliography, see
Waltraud Kofler Engl and Tiziana Franco, “St. Magdalena in Prazöll,” Atlas Trecento: Gotische
Maler in Bozen, ed. Andrea De Marchi et al. (Bolzano: Temi Editrice, 2001), 158–85.
mary magdalene and her dear sister 47
Fig. 2.2. Santa Maddalena, Rencio, south view. Photo: author.

Fig. 2.3. Magdalene fresco cycle (frames 1–5), c. 1370–90, upper register of south
nave wall. Santa Maddalena, Rencio. Photo: Bettina Ravanelli.
Fig. 2.4. Magdalene fresco cycle (frames 6–10), c. 1370–90, upper register of north
wall of nave. Santa Maddalena, Rencio. Photo: Bettina Ravanelli.
Bolzano was particularly significant for the iconographic development of

the Rencio Magdalene cycle. Located on the main road to the Alps, cross-
cultural Bolzano was a hive of mercantile and artistic activity, with pros-
perous families commissioning much of the devotional artworks found in
its churches. More significantly, the town was a prime locus for the pro-
duction and performance of religious plays, many of which expanded the
‘character’ of Mary Magdalene through the popular topoi of her worldly
life, attaching symbolic value to clothes, gestures, and settings. Focusing
on the initial scene of the Rencio Magdalene cycle, a unique interpreta-
tion of the worldly Magdalene and the fundamental role played by her
sister Martha in her conversion, this essay examines the contributions of
popular religious life, particularly in nearby Bolzano, to the iconographic
development of Magdalene images. (fig. 2.5)
Fig. 2.5. Second Master of San Giovanni in Villa (attrib.), The Conversion of Mary
Magdalene through the Agency of Martha, c. 1370–90, fresco. Santa Maddalena,
Rencio. Photo: Bettina Ravanelli.
The small church of Santa Maddalena is located in the hamlet of Rencio,

on the rim of Bolzano, the regional capital of Alto Adige in northern Italy
(fig. 2.2). Likely founded in the late thirteenth century on land donated
previously to the diocese of Bressanone for the cultivation of vineyards,
the existence of the church is documented in the early fourteenth century
through lay endowments for perpetual masses.5 Created between 1300–
1310, a depiction of Mary Magdalene in her traditional biblical guise as
myrrhophore (funereal anointer) is included in the earliest decoration of
the church. The central positioning of this image among representations
of the apostles in the apse emphasizes the Magdalene’s role as apostola
apostolorum (apostle to the apostles) and the titular saint of this particu-
lar church (fig. 2.7).
Renovations were undertaken at Rencio toward the middle of
the fourteenth century. Significantly, the insertion of a barrel vault
over the nave modified the structure of the church.6 Shortly after
a series of mural paintings (1370–90) commenced, including a new fresco
cycle depicting the life of Mary Magdalene, the church’s titular saint.7
Located on the upper register of the nave and just below the base level of
the vault, the scenes of the Magdalene cycle begin at the east end of the
south wall and continue across the nave at the west end of the north wall,
terminating at its eastern end (figs. 2.3–2.4). The cycle consists of ten large
framed scenes but depicts twelve distinct episodes from the Magdalene’s
life. The large number of episodes portrayed contrasts with the Magdalene
cycles of central and southern Italy, which typically included only half of
this number. The cycle at Rencio (fig. 2.6) commences with a unique scene,
the (1) Conversion of Mary Magdalene through the Agency of Martha fol-
lowed by the more traditional, the (2) Anointing of the Feet of Christ in the
House of the Pharisee. The next episode in the cycle, the (3) Expulsion of the
Christians from the Holy Land by the Jews, precedes the first of two double
5 See Hannes Obermair, Bozen sud-Bolzano nord: Scritturalità e documentazione archivi-

stica della città di Bolzano fino al 1500. Regesti dei fondi comunali 1210–1400, vol. 1 (Bolzano:
Bolzano City, 2005), 125–6 (no. 117), 196 (no. 306), 197 (no. 310) and 310 (no. 609). Masses
were said on certain feast days in the church calendar, typically on an annual basis for the
salvation of the donor’s soul.
6 The first decorative campaign may have included an extended mural cycle in the
nave, that was lost when the supporting walls for the new vault were thickened. The sur-
viving fresco fragments from the church of Santa Maria Maddalena in the nearby village
of Vadena (1320–30, Fig. 2.1), now conserved in the Museo Civico in Bolzano offer some
possible insight. See Anderson, “The Magdalen Fresco Cycles,” 143–6.
7 For historiography and dating, see n. 4.
Fig. 2.6. Plan of Magdalene fresco cycle on upper register of nave in Santa

Maddalena, Rencio. Drawing: author and Nicholas Dease. (1) Conversion of Mary
Magdalene through Agency of Martha (2) Anointing in House of Pharisee 3)
Expulsion from Holy Land (4) Arrival in Marseilles / Magdalene Preaching 5)
Dream of Admonishment 6) Abandonment of Princess and Infant on Rocky
Island 7) Pilgrims Taking Leave of Peter in Rome/Miraculous Discovery on
Island 8) Magdalene and Royal Family in Marseilles 9) Eremitical Retreat and
Elevation 10) Last Communion.
narratives in the cycle: the (4) Christians’ Arrival in Marseilles and Mary
Magdalene Preaching to the Prince and Princess. The (5) Admonishment of
the Royal Couple by Mary Magdalene in a Dream, an early depiction of this
episode, is the final scene on the south wall. The first scenes at the west
end of the north wall of the nave include the (6) Abandonment of the Dead
Princess and Her Infant on a Rocky Island and the second double narrative
episode representing the (7) Prince and his Fellow Pilgrims Taking Leave of
Saint Peter in Rome and the Miraculous Discovery on the Rocky Island,
bringing to completion the saint’s most recognized act of intercession—
the Marseilles miracle. A unique episode, (8) Mary Magdalene and her
Family Greeting the Prince on his Return to Marseilles with His Resurrected
Family, follows. Finally, the cycle terminates at the east end of the nave
with frequently depicted narrative scenes: the (9) Eremitical Retreat, which
includes the saint’s iconic elevation by angels, followed by her (10) Last
Communion, where she receives the host from Bishop Maximin.
While no documents survive to identify the particular artist and work-
shop responsible for the execution of the cycle, the paintings have been
placed in the ambit of the Second Master of San Giovanni in Villa, a third
generation exponent of the Paduan painter, Guariento d’Arpo (1338-
c. 1367–70), and a contemporary of the Florentine Giusto de’Menabuoi
(active c. 1349–90) who was working in Padua. This attribution, first sug-
gested by the eminent local scholar Nicolò Rasmo, rests on the similarity
in style of the Rencio cycle to the Second Master of San Giovanni in Villa’s
contemporary fresco decoration in the homonymous church and to a lost
Christopher cycle that formed part of the San Nicola chapel decoration in
the church of San Domenico (both Bolzano).8
High profile artists working during the fourteenth century in the larger
artistic centers of Padua and Verona, such as Giotto, Altichiero and the
aforementioned Guariento, and Giusto created a new visual style that
influenced peripheral territories as well as regions throughout the Ital-
ian peninsula (fig. 2.1). In the case of nearby Bolzano and its surrounding
parishes, there was a departure from the Germanic Gothic linear style (as
seen in the heavily delineated Magdalene in the apse of Santa Maddalena,
fig. 2.7) to embrace the more naturalistic Italian aesthetic which empha-
8 See Tiziana Franco, “St. Magdalena in Präzoll,” 178–84 and 186–215. Franco has argued
that the execution of the cycle was not always under the Master’s full control, citing a less
confident handling of the spatial and architectural elements. Despite the surface losses,
and in particular the strength of the colors, I consider the opening scene to be the work
of the Master.
Fig. 2.7. Mary Magdalene, ca. 1300–10, fresco. From the apse, Santa Maddalena,
Rencio. Photo: author.
sized narrative development, contemporary observations, and greater

human expression.9 Guariento, whose own distinct style informed the
artist of the Rencio cycle, was instrumental in this process. Along with
his documented commissions in Padua and later in Venice for prestigious
patrons, photographic evidence suggests that he worked in the aforemen-
tioned San Nicola chapel.10 His on-site workshop clearly employed local
painters; a factor which greatly contributed to the dissemination of his
artistic formulations and propensity for innovation through succeeding
generations.11 Such a nexus of influences was to have a profound effect
on the depiction of the Magdalene legend in Rencio and in particular its
unprecedented exposé of the saint’s familial dynamics.
The Worldly Magdalene of Rencio
The Conversion of Mary Magdalene through the Agency of Martha, the first
scene in the Rencio cycle, demonstrates the iconographical experimenta-
tion that occurred in different regions based on her apocryphal legend.
The placing of the scene of the Conversion first in the Magdalene cycle
at Rencio deviates radically from established cyclical conventions. Typi-
cally, the Anointing was the initial scene in Magdalene cycles. Reinforcing
the exceptional nature of our conversion scene, in all fourteenth-century
Italian Magdalene cycles, the Anointing was the first scene because of its
importance in establishing the Magdalene as the exemplar of perfect pen-
itence.12 Uniquely, the Conversion scene of Rencio defers this moment to
incorporate an episode from the Magdalene’s pre-conversion life and one
that confers upon Martha the defining role in her sister’s spiritual journey
9 See Helmut Stampfer, “La Pittura del Trecento in Alto Adige. Considerazioni gene-
rali,” in Trecento. Pittori Gotici a Bolzano, ed. Andrea De Marchi, Tiziana Franco and
Silvia Spada Pintarelli (Bolzano: Temi Editrice, 2002), 11–13 and Francesca Flores d’Arcais,
“Guariento e Bolzano,” in Atlas Trecento. Gotische Maler in Bozen, ed. Andrea De Marchi,
Tiziana Franco, Vicenzo Gheroldi and Silvia Spada Pintarelli (Bolzano: Temi Editrice,
2001), 119–33.
10 Fondazione Rasmo-Zallinger, Archivio Storico della Città di Bolzano.
11 Franco argues that our artist’s master, the so-called First Master of San Giovanni in
Villa, worked with Guariento in the San Nicola chapel. See, “Tra Padova, Verona e le Alpi:
sviluppi della pittura nel secondo Trecento,” in Trecento. Pittori gotici a Bolzano, ed.
Andrea De Marchi, Tiziana Franco and Silvia Spada Pintarelli (Bolzano: Temi Editricie,
2002), 151–60.
12 This sequential formula typically applies to those produced in an urban context dur-
ing the fourteenth century in central and southern Italy. See George Kaftal, Iconography
of the Saints, 4 vols. (Florence: Sansoni, 1982–85).
(fig. 2.5).13 How such a re-ordering of the standard visual sequencing came
about in this particular region and in a small peripheral church requires a
detailed analysis of the scene and its contemporary sources.
Standing in a row in the immediate foreground, and reading from left to
right, are Lazarus, Martha, Mary Magdalene, and Procus, Mary Magdalene’s
lover in German religious drama. As the two men look towards the center
of the composition, the two women engage in dialogue, implied by their
proximity, eye contact, hand gestures and the golden rays (no longer vis-
ible) emanating from Martha’s mouth toward her sister (fig. 2.8). Procus
places his hand on the Magdalene’s hip; the only physical contact that
occurs in the scene. The group of figures stands in an outdoor environ-
ment indicated by the natural rocky ground and blue sky. Accompanying
the landscape elements and acting as backdrops for the figures, are three
architecturally distinct castles, two of which are closer in proximity and
of comparable dimensions. On the surface, and so similar to their human
counterparts, the castles are bereft of specific identifying attributes. Addi-
tionally, there is no explanatory text within the thin white frieze that runs
below the pictorial field to aid in interpreting the event depicted.14
Although the traditional attributes of the saints, such as the Magdalene’s
unguent vase or Martha’s aspergillum and cup are absent, their attire
provides clues to their identity and character. In the Conversion, Lazarus
is portrayed as a wealthy patrician in conservative clothing. Lined with
ermine his long, loose-fitting tunic, mantel, and hat are cut from richly
dyed cloth. On his feet are blue pointed boots and there is a glimpse
of a belt around his waist.15 In contrast to Lazarus’ sober attire, Procus
is presented in much more fashionable dress (fig. 2.11). He is portrayed
13 Only the near contemporary Magdalene cycle by Giovanni da Milano in the

Guidalotti-Rinuccini chapel of Santa Croce, Florence, gives similar prominence to Mar-
tha (beyond her more typical presence in the biblically derived, Raising of Lazarus).
The scene of Christ in the House of Mary and Martha is in itself unique and unprec-
edented in the context of fourteenth-century mural cycles. Unlike Rencio, however, it is
a post-conversion episode that reinforces rather than subverts the sisters’ conventional
polarities: active (Martha) and contemplative (Magdalene), two sides of the laywoman’s
behavioral coin. I will provide a fuller account of the significance of Martha in a forth-
coming publication.
14 There is no evidence from the restoration reports that text was ever present below
any of the scenes of the cycle, a contrast to the Baptist cycle in the church of San Giovanni
in Villa, Bolzano (c. 1365), given to the master of our painter.
15 See Altichiero’s, The Baptism of the King by St. George in the Oratory of San Giorgio
of nearby Padua (before 1384), for a comparison to the clothes of the titular (George). This
is reproduced in Claudio Semenzato, La Cappella del Beato Luca Belludi e Giusto de’ Mena-
buoi nella Basilica di Sant’Antonio (Padua: Edizioni Messaggero, 1988), 175.
Fig. 2.8. Second Master of San Giovanni in Villa (attrib.), The Conversion of

Mary Magdalene through the Agency of Martha (detail), c. 1370–90, fresco. Santa
Maddalena, Rencio. Photo: Bettina Ravanelli.
wearing a very short tunic embellished by a low-slung belt with a large

buckle. Enhancing the decorative quality of his attire are tippet sleeves,
a detached hood, parti-colored hose and fret-designed shoes. His role as
the embodiment of carnal intrigue is made explicit by his snugly fitting
garments, his possessive hand on the Magdalene’s hip, and the sugges-
tive handling of the liripipe (slung over his shoulder). Strengthening the
contrast between the two men, while Lazarus is bearded the youthful Pro-
cus is clean-shaven and has chin-length golden hair.
Martha, like her brother behind her, is an exemplar of decorum and is
the only nimbed figure in the group: a detail that establishes her spiritual
prominence. Upon closer inspection several details of Martha’s clothing

and attire create visual parallels to other sacred figures, including the
Virgin Mary. Her pleated hair is suitably pulled back and covered with
a transparent veil with scalloped edging that covers her neck and shoul-
ders and extends into a wimple. This particular headdress originated at
the French courts and became fashionable in fourteenth-century Italian
society. Occasionally, in images of Mary as the queen of heaven she wore
a similar hairstyle and headdress. The Coronation fresco at Rencio, which
was originally located in the apse lunette (presently in the Bolzano Civic
Museum), depict the Virgin in this manner.16
The similarity between the headdresses of Martha and the Virgin in
the Coronation fresco is a manifestation of new typological associations
between the saints. Along with her head-covering, the style of Martha’s
garments reinforces this association. While sumptuous in terms of fabric
and edging, her robes are simple in design and fitting; there is no hint
of the feminine shape below the voluminous mantel, confirming her as
an acceptably desexualized figure like the Virgin Mary. In contrast, Mary
Magdalene, like Procus, wears contemporary fashion. Her golden hair is
partially adorned with an ornate headdress but significantly, no wimple:
a worldly halo. Her tight fitting attire emphasizes her sexual physicality,
particularly the definition of her waist and upper torso, while the unusual
positioning of her head, arms and body (most likely dancing) permits a
view of her cascading locks, tippet sleeves, and slashed overdress with
ermine trim.17 The opening in the overdress reveals a layer of a once scar-
let fabric, a hint of intrigue, which strengthens the characterization of her
as pleasure-seeking.
Along with the precisely chosen garments, the three castles in the back-
ground of the Rencio painting clearly reflect their owner’s individual char-
acter and morality, as outlined in the Golden Legend. From left to right, the
castles represent Jerusalem, Bethany and Magdala, the inheritance of each
16 See De Marchi, et al., Atlas, Plate XXXIII, 349, for a well-preserved version of the
headdress worn by the Virgin in the contemporaneous scene of The Birth of the Baptist in
San Giovanni in Villa. For the Rencio Coronation, see Tiziana Franco, “Tra Padova, Verona
e le Alpi,” in Andrea De Marchi, Tiziana Franco and Silvia Spada Pintarelli, eds., Trecento.
Pittori gotici a Bolzano (Bolzano: Temi Editrice, 2002), 181. For a discussion of the wimple
in Marian imagery, see Giovanna Ragionieri, “Origini e fortuna di un motivo icongrafico:
la Madonnna con il soggolo,” in Giotto e Bologna, ed. Massimo Medica (Cinisello Bolsamo:
Silvana Editoriale, 2010), 37–45.
17 The influence of Paduan sartorial taste, as documented in the paintings of Giusto
and Altichiero, is discernable in the Rencio Magdalene’s dress. See n. 15, with reference to
the woman on the far left.
sibling after the death of their father, Cyrus. The division of this noble-
man’s estate, although described by Voragine, is not given prominence in
the story. He does, however, note the siblings’ royal lineage and further
explains that Martha was the most adroit in the care of the properties
and their attached wealth stating that “Magdalene gave herself totally to
the pleasures of the flesh and Lazarus was devoted to the military, while
prudent Martha kept close watch over her brother’s and sister’s estates
and took care of the needs of her armed men, her servants, and the poor.”18
The patron or painter responsible for the Rencio painting used the style
of the architecture to enhance Voragine’s characterization of the siblings.
Lazarus stands in front of a simple fortress-like edifice that denotes age
and strength, the latter demonstrating his military and patriarchal author-
ity. Martha’s castle is distinctly church-like with its Gothic-gabled roof
and tall arched entrance. Undoubtedly its ecclesiastical style intentionally
reinforced the notion of her Christian goodness and, as will transpire, her
role as an agent of conversion.19 The castle of Magdala, the Magdalene’s
property, however, differs in both location and form. It is set farther away
from the picture plane on a rocky outcrop, giving visual form to her sepa-
ration from her family. In addition, it has a more complex architecture
comprised of a walled courtyard and numerous towers, hinting at an
internal life of profane courtly games, dances and intrigue—a motif uti-
lized by many religious plays portraying the worldly Mary Magdalene, an
aspect that will be developed more fully below.20
Both the garments of the figures with their capacity for typological
overlays and the character of the castles emphasize the differing mor-
als of Martha and Mary Magdalene: modesty, prudence, and duty of care
for the family in contrast to vanity, pride, and wantonness. Such overt
18 Jacobus de Voragine, The Golden Legend, 2 vols., trans. and ed. William Granger Ryan
(Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1993), 375.
19 Martha also evangelized the French region of Tarascon, where she defeated the local
dragon. The event is included in a rare visual treatment of her life in the parish church
(duomo) of Bolzano, see Andrea De Marchi, “Dom,” in Atlas Trecento: Gotische Maler in
Bozen, ed. Andrea De Marchi et al. (Bolzano: Temi Editrice, 2001), 24–8. For Martha’s visual
types, see Kaftal, Iconography of the Saints in Tuscan Painting (1952), 681–84; Iconography
of the Saints in the Painting of the North-East Italian (1978), 687, 689–90; Iconography of the
Saints in the Painting of North West Italy (1985), 468–72; Iconography of the Saints in Central
and Southern Italian Schools of Painting, 453–56.
20 For the attributes which define this courtly motif, see Cornelia E.C.M. van den
Wildenberg-De Kroon, Das Weltleben und die Bekehrung der Maria Magdalena im Deutschen
Religiösen Drama und in der Bildenden Kunst des Mittelalters (Amsterdam: Rodolpi, 1979),
74–93.
c ontrasts are reinforced by the very positioning of all four figures within
the scene: saintly to the left and sinners to the right. Moreover, there is
a deliberate division of the genders. The male figures observe and frame
the active dialogue between Martha and Mary. If identifying the unscru-
pulous character were the only purpose of the image, one would easily
choose the Magdalene. However, what this scene represents is a family
drama built around the theme of conversion, and one where, Martha is
the key player.
Martha’s instrumental and unprecedented role in converting the
Magdalene in this opening scene is expressed in terms of symbolic attri-
butes, such as her halo and headdress (fig. 2.8). However, it is the rarely
noticed rays emanating from Martha’s mouth towards her sister that indi-
cate speech and bestow upon those words a holy import comparable to
annunciation imagery. Indeed, it is hardly coincidence that the annuncia-
tion imagery on the triumphal arch at the east end of this church has been
inverted, placing Gabriel on the right hand side next to the opening scene
of the Magdalene cycle with its ‘annunciating’ Martha.21
Along with her halo, headdress, and speech, Martha’s gesture con-
tributes to the meaning of this image and indicates the subject of their
dialogue. The manner in which her hands are presented is redolent of a
computio digitorum—the act of counting one’s points in a homily for the
spiritual edification of a gathered audience.22 Although commonly used
in depictions of preaching saints or mendicant friars, Martha’s gesture has
never been recognized as such, despite the same artist’s representation of
Saint Christopher preaching in the former San Nicola chapel (fig. 2.9).23
Interpretations of Martha’s gesture in the Conversion of Mary Magdalene
21 See Anderson, “The Magdalen Narrative Fresco Cycles,” 122. Symbolic value likely
determined Giusto de’ Menabuoi’s inversion of the Annunciation (1382) in the Luca Bel-
ludi chapel, Sant’Antonio (Santo) in Padua. See Claudio Bellinati, “Iconografia e Teologia
negli affreschi di Giusto de’ Menabuoi,” in La Cappella del Beato Luca Belludi e Giusto de’
Menabuoi nella Basilica di Sant’Antonio (Padua: Edizioni Messaggero, 1988), 95.
22 Wyndam Thomas “The Cultural Context of the Fleury Playbook: Liturgy and Drama in
a Corner of Twelfth-Century France,” Proceedings of the Bath Royal Literary and Scientific
Institution 9 (2005), 139–41 esp. 140. Accessed July 9 2011, http://www.brlsi.org/ events-pro-
ceedings/proceedings/24585. Thomas discusses the value of the gesture in the context of
the Fleury Playbook, where its visual clarity is more accessible to novices than intellectual
engagement with fine points of biblical interpretation or Canon law.
23 Interestingly, Christopher also preaches to fallen women suggesting a further typo-
logical association for Martha. The gesture find its earliest expression in Bolzano by Cath-
erine of Alexandria, in the homonymous chapel in San Domenico (c. 1335–40), see De
Marchi, et al., Atlas Trecento, plate XXVII, 344.
Fig. 2.9. Second Master of San Giovanni in Villa (attrib.), Saint Christopher Preach-
ing to the Prostitutes Nicea and Acquilina (destroyed), c. 1360, fresco. Former San
Nicola chapel, San Domenico, Bolzano. Photo: Fondazione Rasmo-Zallinger.
through the Agency of Martha have varied between one of admonishment

and disapproval.24
Strengthening the interpretation of Martha’s gesture as one of computio
digitorum and not simply admonishment is another scene in the Rencio
Magdalene cycle, Mary Magdalene preaching to the prince and princess of
Marseilles (fig. 2.10). In this scene, the Magdalene uses the same gesture
but does so in a public context, standing before the pagan temple and
the court of Marseilles.25 Reinterpreting the visual significance of Mar-
tha’s gesture as a computio digitorum is crucial to our understanding of the
opening scene as one of conversion at her instigation in a private sphere.
Mary Magdalene’s repetition of Martha’s gesture in the fourth scene of
the cycle was derived from the segment in her legend in which she con-
verted pagan Gaul through her preaching. Recent scholarship has demon-
strated that, as a preacher, the Magdalene functioned as an exemplar to
the mendicant orders for their ministering to the laity. Moreover, she was
tolerated in this capacity by the ecclesiastical authorities.26 Dated to the
period 1370–90, Rencio’s depiction of female preaching on two occasions
in a single narrative cycle is possibly the earliest expression of what is a
distinctly northern Italian and Alpine preference for this subject. Another
example from the same period can be found in the ex-flagellant confrater-
nity church of Mary Magdalene in Bergamo (Lombardy), which retains a
fragment of the saint preaching to the Marseilles court. The subject is also
treated in the late fourteenth-century Magdalene fresco cycle of San Anto-
nio di Ranverso in Buttigliera Alta (fig. 2.1). In this depiction she appears
preaching from a stone, and therefore, permanent pulpit.27 Significantly
there is no comparable visual tradition for Martha in this capacity.
24 Stampfer, La Chiesa di Santa Maddalena, 18 and Franco, “St. Magdalena in Präzoll,”

178 describe the scene as one of conversion but not in relation to Martha’s gesture. Kaftal,
North East Italy, col. 709 uses “reproves,” Jansen, The Making of the Magdalen, 160 suggests
that Martha speaks words of “rebuke,” while Haskins, The Essential History, 161 uses “chas-
tisement.” The uniqueness of the iconography in the Magdalene and Martha visual canons
has been entirely overlooked.
25 The prince’s gesture to his wife’s till now barren womb, reminds us of the couple’s
willingness to convert if Mary Magdalene could perform a generative miracle. To reinforce
the process of conversion the princess shares the same distinctive headdress worn by the
Magdalene in the opening scene. Replicated gesture and dress thus reinforces the efficacy
of good Christian teaching and learning, woman to woman, while the subsequent scenes
display its reaped material and spiritual rewards.
26 See Introduction and Michelle Erhardt’s essay in this anthology.
27 A fifteenth-century sculpted relief from the Lazarus altar in the church of La Vielle
Major (Marseilles) and a German embroidered cope from the same period, now in the
Although both the Bible and the Golden Legend allude to the Magdalene’s
family situation and her sinful ways prior to conversion, neither dwells on
it at length. More pointedly, there is no specific reference to the agency of
Martha in the conversion process itself. Hints of our more complex Mar-
tha can be discerned, however, in Voragine’s life of the Magdalene. Cit-
ing the writings of Ambrose as his source, Voragine records that Martha
was liberated from “the issue of blood she had suffered for seven years.”28
Although this ailment is not elaborated on, and interestingly he makes
no mention of it in Martha’s own life account, the Gospels are able to
provide a vital link in her developing hagiography.29 Medieval hagiogra-
phers associated her with the “woman who touched Christ’s cloak” in the
hope of a cure for her severe and prolonged bleeding (Matthew 9:18–22,
Mark 5:25–34 and Luke 8:40–48) and Martha, sister of Lazarus and Mary
of Bethany (Luke 10:38–41, John 11:1–44 and 12:2). By the late thirteenth
century this had become an accepted literary conflation in the figure of
Martha, sister of Mary Magdalene and Lazarus.
Returning to the Conversion episode in Rencio, the beata halo, golden
rays emitted from Martha’s mouth, and her distinctive hand gesture are
visual indicators of Voragine’s conflation. Combined with the church-like
edifice behind her and resemblance to the Virgin, the halo and gestures
function as signifiers of Martha’s right to ‘preach’ to her dissolute sister,
thus becoming the agent of conversion. How such an astonishing leap
occurred in a figure more renowned for her domesticity and how it found
its first visual expression in the Magdalene cycle of this Alpine church are
important considerations.
For this unprecedented iconographical development, which promoted
not only the Magdalene but also Martha as a mouthpiece for religious
instruction, both the patron (with a theological advisor?) and the master
painter must have looked to more contemporary and visually stimulating
interpretations of the Magdalene’s pre-conversion life. One likely source
for this unique iconographical interpretation was the widely dissemi-
nated vernacular translation of Saint Jerome’s Vite dei Santi Padri (Lives
of the Holy Fathers), written by the Dominican friar Domenico Cavalca in
c. 1330. This text includes accounts of female eremitical saints, including
Mary Magdalene, and crucially it develops her early life with reference
St Annen Museum in Lübeck, also portray the Magdalene as a preacher. For reproductions
of all, see Jansen, The Making of the Magdalen, 68, 69 and 71.
28 Voragine, Golden Legend, vol. 1, 376.
29 Voragine, Golden Legend, vol. 2, 23–6.
to the role of Martha. Eliana Corbari recently observed that the audience
for this translation was primarily women and that within the narrative
Cavalca placed an emphasis on the “chain of personal relationships that
led to faith in Jesus Christ and conversion.” This emphasis can be linked
to an accepted tradition of female preaching within the family environs.30
In contrast to the Magdalene that Voragine crafted, Cavalca’s account is
more elaborate and sympathetic to the saint. Significant to our consider-
ation of the scene of the Conversion, Cavalca’s biography of the Magdalene
expands our understanding of Martha. Over four pages of text bolster her
importance in this family drama and establish her agency in the conver-
sion of the Magdalene.31 More specifically, Martha is presented as the
more honest and perceptive sister, whose great faith after her cure is used
as a contrast to the reckless pleasure-seeking Magdalene.32 Moreover, she
is described as preaching the faith to her sister:
Martha spoke of and preached the miracles of the Blessed Master and his
goodness that she had seen and heard and looking Mary Magdalene in the
face she saw the changes in her face, that she could already see his glorious
thoughts . . .33
Martha’s agency in the conversion of her sister in this vernacular text
is a substantial deviation from Voragine’s legend, which stated that the
Magdalene was guided to the house of the Pharisee and to her act of
anointing by divine will.
Although Cavalca spoke of Martha’s preaching of the miracles of Christ
to her sister and the Magdalene’s own evangelizing in Gaul, upholding
women as preachers was a source of controversy in church history. The
tradition of female preaching dates back to before the thirteenth century,
where an individual would gain their education from both the public and
private domains, the former being the preserve of the patriarchal church
and the latter located in the maternal household. The fact that Mary
30 Eliana Corbari, “Vernacular Theology: Dominican Sermons and Audience in Late

Medieval Italy,” (PhD diss., University of Bristol, 2008), 145 and 149.
31 Domenico Cavalca, “Vita di S. Maria Maddalena,” in Vita dei Santi Padri, colle Vite di
alcuni altri Santi, vol. 1, ed. Bartolomeo Sorio and A. Racheli (Milan: l’Ufficio Generale di
Commissioni ed Annunzi, n.d.), 329–86, esp. 333–4.
32 She indulges in sins of the flesh, “il peccato carnale,” Cavalca, “Vita di S. Maria Mad-
dalena,” 330.
33 “Marta favellando e predicando i miracoli di questo benedetto Maestro e la sua
bonitade ch’ella aveva veduta e udita, nondimeno guardava Maria Maddalena nel volto e
vedeva la mutazione ch’ella mostrava nella faccia, che vedeva già tutta gloriosa . . .,” Cav-
alca, “Vita di S. Maria Maddalena,” 334.
Magdalene and the early Christian martyr, Catherine of Alexandria were

condoned as public preachers did nothing to assuage the negative judg-
ments heaped upon women who openly transmitted their interpretation of
the faith.34 As Nicole Bériou has observed in her essay on women and their
right to give religious instruction, their voice was increasingly filtered and
appropriated by male preachers through the ecclesiastical infrastructure.35
In Voragine’s Magdalene legend, this guiding female voice is non-existent
in the face of the unquestionable will of God.
There are additional nuances to the idea of preaching that explain the
direct speech of Martha to her sister in the opening scene of the Rencio
Magdalene cycle. The presence of Lazarus is relevant because it suggests
that we should view Martha as an exemplar of exhortatio (exhortation)
rather than predicatio (preaching), familiar persuasion as opposed to
external pedagogy, similar to that undertaken by the Magdalene preach-
ing outside of Marseilles’ pagan temple later in the cycle. In support of
this proposal, it should be recalled that although the siblings stand in an
external space it is one defined by their private property. Moreover, there
are no random bystanders who would denote a public-speaking context.
Martha’s teaching is therefore taking place within the acceptable bound-
aries of the family, where emphasis is placed on instruction from woman
to woman and so relating to the “matrilinear” character of private learn-
ing in a domestic context.36 By considering the scene within the context
of the entire Magdalene fresco cycle, and thus subject to the lay gaze
on a daily basis, Martha functions as a model for the acceptable modes
of female religious and social instruction to a female audience: Martha
speaks only to her sister, as approved by her brother. In other words, while
Mary Magdalene is upheld as the exemplar of tolerated preaching and
perfect penitence to both genders in a public forum, Martha functions as
an exemplar of the duty of care expected of women within their families.
Finally, this interpretation relates back to Domenico Cavalca’s Martha
recounted in the life of Mary Magdalene in his Vitae dei Santi Padri. Mar-
tha is presented in the capacity of a disciple and preacher, her miraculous
cure being the reward for her early faith, making her “analogous to an
34 See n. 23 above.
35 Nicole Bériou, “The Right of Women to Give Religious Instruction in the Thirteenth
Century,” in Women, Preachers and Prophets through Two Millennia of Christianity, ed. Bev-
erly Mayne Kienzle and Pamela J. Walker (Berkeley and London: California University
Press, c. 1998), 134–45, esp. 140.
36 Robert N. Swanson, Religion and Devotion in Europe, c. 1215–c. 1515 (Cambridge:
Cambridge University Press, 2000), 71. Note that the Magdalene in scene four of the cycle
preaches to both men and women who are unrelated to her.
active and vocal female audience.”37 Such a reading underlines the didac-
tic quality of the Rencio painting which had to communicate its message
to the patron and lay congregation, comprised no doubt of many women,
through a universal language of dress, symbols and gestures in the unusual
absence of accompanying text and specific attributes.
Building upon this performance and reception-led analysis of Martha and
Mary Magdalene in the scene of the Conversion, the stage-like composition
and the ratios of the figures and castles suggests the influence of an addi-
tional source. Cavalca’s text was not the only available ‘dramatization’ of the
worldly Magdalene or her conversion through the homiletic speech of her
sister Martha available to the patron or painter of this particular cycle, nor
was it the earliest. From the mid-thirteenth century onwards, the worldly
life of the Magdalene was developed as part of the popular Easter and Cor-
pus Christi theatrical performances throughout the German-speaking areas,
including those of Alto Adige (south Tyrol), where activity was centered in
Bolzano (Bozen) and nearby Vipiteno (Sterzing). In the fourteenth and fif-
teenth centuries, individual mystery plays also began to appear and at least
one Magdalene play survives that is highly pertinent to the Rencio cycle.38
These plays took place in and around churches, on temporary stages
or in the form of outdoor processions.39 They required not only costumes
for the main protagonists but also scenery and props to aid in audience
identification and understanding.40 The plays were accessible to everyone
in terms of location and language (Middle High German), including the
37 Corbari, “Vernacular Theology,” 154–8.

38 A fourteenth-century Florentine Magdalene Conversion play, of the type known as
Sacra Rappresentazione, also develops the worldly Magdalene, the composite identity of
Martha and her agency in her sister’s conversion. See Domenico Cavalca. “Conversione
di Maria Maddalena e Resurrezione di Lazzaro,” ed. Mario Bonfantini, Le Sacre Rappre-
sentazioni italiane. Raccolta di Testi dal Secolo XIII al Secolo XVI (Milan: Bompiani, 1942),
244–309. There is, however, little evidence of the central Italian theatrical tradition having
a foothold in this pre-Alpine region, perhaps as a result of distance and language: a case of
Weltleben rather than vita mondana. Moreover, the more extensive cast list of the Italian
play, which includes the Virgin Mary, and the absence of the young male suitor, Procus,
suggests its lack of applicability to the Rencio cycle, see below.
39 For example, see the 1514 stage design by Vigil Raber for the parish church of Bolzano,
see John E. Tailby, “The German-Speaking Areas,” in The Medieval European Stage 500–1500,
ed. William Tydeman (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2001), 379–80. For the Bolzano
plays see, Anton Dörrer, ed., Tiroler Umgangsspiele. Ordnungen und Sprechtexte der Bozner
Fronleichnamsspiele und verwandter Figural prozessionien vom Ausgang des Mittelalters bis
zum Absteig des Aufgeklärten Absolutismus (Innsbrück, Universitätsverlag Wagner, 1957).
40 For the practicalities of staging religious theater and its reception by local com-
munities in the German-speaking and wider European context, see the collated extracts
in William Tydeman, ed., The Medieval European Stage 500–1500 (Cambridge: Cambridge
University Press, 2001).
patron of the Rencio cycle. The replication of theatrical settings and obser-
vation of contemporary dress would have struck a distinct visual chord
when entering Santa Maddalena and when contemplating the fresco cycle
as an individual or through exegetical sermons. Indeed, the immersive
experience of theater in the round is emulated by the wrap-around layout
of the Magdalene cycle in Santa Maddalena, as well as its accessibility to
a lay audience. Both nave and stage are performance areas.
It would of course be misleading to suggest that any single Magdalene
play or section within a larger Passion play can be cited as the direct
source for the Rencio cycle as none survive from the period 1370–90 in
this particular area. However, the known examples prior to and after the
completion of the cycle can assist in establishing the concept of a dramatic
tradition and one that in turn impacted on the visual canon of narrative
Magdalene imagery in this cycle, and in the region as a whole. Thus, while
the influence of the Dominican vulgate Vita dei Santi Padri enriches our
knowledge of female audiences and reception, the plays provide a more
compelling and local link to the depiction of the Rencio protagonists with
specific reference to pertinent lines and descriptive details.
While Cornelia van den Wildenberg-de Kroon concluded in her 1979
study of the worldly life and conversion of Mary Magdalene in German
religious drama and art that art and theater had their own separate tradi-
tions, she was not aware of the Rencio cycle.41 Since it has become pub-
licly available, the status of the innovative opening scene as a vital link
between the two media has not been sufficiently explored by scholars,
particularly in relation to three specific plays from the German-speaking
areas that portray these crucial events.42 These plays are, in chronological
order, the thirteenth-century Vienna Passion play, which survives in an
early fourteenth-century manuscript; the early fifteenth-century Erlau IV,
also known as the Ludus Mariae Magdalenae in gaudio, the only surviving
41 The cycle underwent a lengthy restoration during the period 1950–85. Van den
Wildenberg-de Kroon, Das Weltleben und die Bekehrung. The cycle was also omitted from
the cataloguing works of Marga Anstett-Janßen. See, “Maria Magdalena in der Abendlän-
dischen Kunst. Ikonographie der Heiligen von den Anfängen bis ins 16. Jahrhundert.”
(PhD diss., Freiburg im Breisgau, 1961) and “Maria Magdalena,” in Lexikon der christlichen
Ikonographie, vol. 7 (Rome: Herder, 1974), 516–41.
42 Only the first two scenes of the Rencio cycle can be discussed in direct relation to
religious theater of these regions, as the surviving plays do not extend their narrative to
the entirety of Mary Magdalene’s life. The late fifteenth-century English Digby Magdalene
play uniquely presents such an extensive dramatization. See, The Late Medieval Religious
Plays of Bodleian MSS Digby 133 and e Museo 160, ed. Donald C. Baker, John L. Murphy and
Louise B. Hall (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1982).
Magdalene play in this region and one which developed from the Vienna
Passion; and finally, the Künzelsau Corpus Christi of 1479.43 Through the
syncopated rhythms of their verse, each play gives dramatic and memo-
rable form to le pompe, or ‘the display of private wealth’ central to the
Magdalene’s worldly life.44 The identification of Mary Magdalene with the
sins of vanity and pride was a popular topos in the theater and literature
of the later Middle Ages as it prepared the audience for the magnitude of
her conversion. Moreover, it offered the audience a model for the expia-
tion of their own sins. In the case of the German plays, this conversion
was typically prompted by Martha’s teachings.
Using a standard conflation of Latin (for the stage directions) and the
regional Middle High German (for the actors), the Vienna Passion play,
retained in a manuscript fragment of around 500 lines, is considered to be
a development of the earlier Benediktbeuern Ludus de Passione (twelfth-
century). In the Carmina Burana of the Ludus, the worldly Magdalene pro-
claims her love of expensive cosmetics and demands their purchase for
the adornment of her body.45 The later Vienna play continues the usage of
this vanitas topos combined with the idea of the Magdalene’s opinion that
she is “most beautiful of all women.”46 By the time of the fifteenth-century
Künzelsau Corpus Christi, the medieval Latin stage direction informs us of
how the Magdalene is to arrive on the stage in terms of attitude and com-
portment: “she did go forth and proceed/ with great ceremony and declare
herself.”47 Le pompe is once again reinforced, as she considers herself “the
most beautiful woman.”48 In particular, the Magdalene concerns herself
43 The plays find their origins in Vienna, Erlau and Künzelsau but would have been
performed, with variation, far and wide in the Germanic territories. Erlauer Spiele: sechs
altdeutsche Mysterien nach einer Handschrift des XV. Jahrhunderts, ed. Karl. F. Kummer
(Vienna: A. Holder, 1882) and Das Künzelsauer Fronleichnamspiel, ed. Peter K. Liebenow
(Berlin: Walter de Gruyter, 1969). For the Wiener Passion, verse quotes are taken from
Van den Wildenberg-de Kroon, Das Weltleben und die Bekehrung and Bram Rossano
“Visualising the Magdalene: The Depiction of Mary Magdalene in Medieval Literature,”
Philologie im Nitz 45 (2008), 33–55, accessed July 9 2011, http://web.fu-berlin.de/phin/
phin45/p45t3.htm.
44 Susan Mosher Stuart, Gilding the Market. Luxury and Fashion in Fourteenth-Century
Italy (Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press, 2006), 1.The word “pomposa” features
in the vulgate commentary under the opening scene of the Magdalene cycle in Cusiano.
45 See Haskins, The Essential History, 164.
46 “schonheyt aller frauwen,” Rossano “Visualising the Magdalen,” 38.
47 “MAGDALENAE ibat et preibat/ pompose et dicat,” Liebenow, Das Künzelsauer Fron-
leichnamspiel, 104, lines 2422–3.
48 “Ich bins, ein schon edels weib,” Liebenow, Das Künzelsauer Fronleichnamspiel, line
2424.
with aspects of her appearance that would appeal to potential suitors,

and in the context of the play, be familiar to the audience. For exam-
ple, the line “my hair is curly and gold,” would have accorded with the
saint’s depiction in the opening scene and throughout the Rencio cycle
(fig. 2.10).49 The stage direction and the descriptions of the Magdalene
from these plays give us a sense of real presence, a quality shared with the
Rencio painting when considering her rich attire, resplendent headdress
and dancing pose in the stage-like setting. However, unlike the Carmina
Burana, the three plays which relate most strongly to the Rencio paint-
ing develop the character of Martha as central to the conversion process,
moving the Magdalene away from her costly predilection for somatic
allure to complete renunciation and spiritual enlightenment.
The conversion dialogue between the sisters in both the Künzelsau Cor-
pus Christi and Erlau IV plays is lively and its syncopated rhythm would
have ensured its retention in the minds of the gathered audience, just like
the stage scenery and props used by the actors. In particular, the line, “my
dear sister” from the Künzelsau play, which punctuates the sermonizing
verses of Martha throughout her part, has a catechismal patter and it is
this mesmerizing quality that begins to affect her sister’s resolve.50 The
Magdalene’s response to her sister’s repeated exhortation to rescind and
repent plays on Martha’s name, associating her with kindness: “Martha,
Martha, what will you do tender sister?”51 She is responding to the accept-
able instruction of her female sibling, the same woman who will provide
her with the symbolic unguent vase for the anointing of Christ’s feet later
in the play (and in the cycle).52
This repetitive, catechismal effect was explored by the playwright of
the earlier Magdalene play, the Erlau IV (fifteenth-century), through the
more expansive line, “Repent, repent, sinner Mary, my dear sister,” to
which Mary responds with, “Wait, Lord, wait, what does my sister Martha
sing to me?”53 The emphatic appeal of these lines are appropriate to the
49 “Mein har is rat von golt,” Liebenow, Das Künzelsauer Fronleichnamspiel, line 2434.
50 “MARTHA Respondeat Magdalene: Magdalena, liebe swester mein,” Liebenow, Das
Künzelsauer Fronleichnamspiel, lines 2426–7.
51 “MAGDALENA Respondeat Marthe et dicat: Martha Martha, Was wiltu swester
zarta,” Liebenow, Das Künzelsauer Fronleichnamspiel, lines 2430–1.
52 The stage directions state that, “Martha portans pixidem Magdalene./Accedat
MAGDALENA cum pixide,/ flectans se humiliter jn dextra/latere circa pedes dominice
persone/retro Et dicat,” Liebenow, Das Künzelsauer Fronleichnamspiel, 106, lines 2498–12.
53 “Martha cantat: Reveretere, reveretere, Sunamitis,/ Maria liebe swester mein” and
“Wartham herr wartha,/ was wil mein swester Martha,/das si mich nicht laet singen?,”
Kummer, Erlauer Spiele, 110, lines 464–5 and 469–71.
Fig. 2.10. Second Master of San Giovanni in Villa (attrib.), The Christians Arrive
at Marseilles/Mary Magdalene Preaches to the Pagan Royal Couple and the People
of Marseilles (detail), c. 1370–90, fresco. Santa Maddalena, Rencio. Photo: Bettina
Ravanelli.
Rencio painting, with particular reference to the loaded words of “repent”

and “sinner” passing from one sister to the other. The fact that Martha’s
repeating line is sung to Mary, giving it a mnemonic value, further ensures
retention in the collective memory of an audience, be it in church or open
civic space. Building upon this connection between the play (Erlau IV )
and the painting is Martha’s more detailed speech extolling her faith that
Jesus will even forgive her sister’s most grave sins:
Mary, I announce to thee / rid yourself of the hound of hell / and turn
towards Jesus Christ / who is the comfort of all sinners. / When he sits in
his court / and recognizes your sin, / then you gain at the same time / a lord,
who lays in chain. / Thus better yourself from your sins / as Jesus my Lord /
wants to forgive you your misdeed / you committed with your pride.54
The speech places from the outset a distinct premium on the agency of
Martha in the conversion of Mary Magdalene, which occurs through the
power of her words set in the context of a familial exhortation “I announce
to thee . . . Thus better yourself.” The fact that the words are sung and spo-
ken in the language of this particular region, rather than the Latin of the
Church, ensures that women who were instructed at home could also
understand and learn. The painting in Rencio can therefore be seen as a
convincing reflection of this dramatic emphasis, with its central position-
ing of the women and the language of gestures and symbols that pass
between them, recalling the actual dialogue of the stage.
As it was performance art rather than just aural, certain stances and
gestures in religious theater (such as the computio digitorum) would have
become associated with individual characters making them recognizable
and memorable when transferred to the two-dimensional format. This
also applies to new cast members and in this case the young lover of
Mary Magdalene, who is given his clearest expression in the play, Erlau
IV. As indicated at the beginning of this essay, his name is Procus. He was
brought to Mary Magdalene through his procuress, Vetula. She describes
him as “a young proud man of barely eighteen years old, of good physical
form, handsome and with curly yet silky blond hair.”55 It is a vivid and
54 “Maria, ich tun dir chunt, / slach von dir der helle hunt / und cher dich zu Jhesum
Christ, / der aller sunder trost ist. / wann er siczt an dem gericht sein / und erchent die sunde
dein, / so gewinst du an derselben zeit / ein herren, der an der cheten leit. / da von becher
dich von den sunden dein, / wan Jhesus der herre mein / wil dir vergeben dein missetat, / di
du wegangen hast mit der hochfart,” Kummer, Erlauer Spiele, 116–7, lines 670–81.
55 “einem stolzen jungeling . . . er ist chaum achtzehen jar alt, raid und chraus ist sein
har und als die gelben seiden var . . .,” Kummer, Erlauer Spiele, 108, lines 409–13.
until now unobserved correlation with the Magdalene’s young male com-
panion in the Rencio painting (fig. 2.11). The connection is made all the
more compelling when noting that Van den Wildenberg-de Kroon could
only compare the theatrical description with painted representations
from the sixteenth century by Bruegel, the Master of the Magdalene Leg-
end and Lucas van Leyden, where the lover has become older and more
corpulent thus contributing to her dismissal of any overlap between the
media.56 In this light, the Rencio painting may be reflective of an earlier
version of Erlau IV, performed in Bolzano and witnessed by the patron or
painter of the cycle, making it part of a wider dramatic tradition in this
Alpine region.
Shortly before her conversion in Erlau IV, Mary Magdalene tells the
audience that she thinks Procus’s clothes are somewhat ridiculous but
nonetheless she plays the courtly game and emphasizes his chivalric
aspect.57 It is but a tease. For despite Procus’s increasing advances, the
object of his lust remains unwilling to commit pushing him to anger and
vitriol. The Rencio painting may therefore represent the precise moment
of her waning interest in him, as his possessive gesture, is not recipro-
cated. Compounding this effect, she is presented far from her castle and
its pleasures that had established her as a figure of vanity and sin. As a
process of conversion, the play (or rather the proposed earlier incarna-
tion) may therefore explain more accurately the Magdalene’s slightly
twisted portrayal as she dances where her head is completely turned to
the left in order to receive the well-meant, instructional and sanctified
words of Martha, her “dear sister.”
In conclusion, produced for a rural church and a local population,
but with a mind to passing travelers and pilgrims, the paintings of Santa
Maddalena in Rencio are a representation of popular religion and the
stimulating regional visual culture. Given its location in the nave, it is
evident that the Magdalene’s legend was required to function as a visual
exhortatio to the lay audience in their capacity as catechumens. However,
this scenario did not preclude the emergence of a unique and sophisti-
cated interpretation of the saint’s expanding hagiography and an equally
high quality of artistic representation. Mary Magdalene’s visual canon in
this rural context was in fact dramatically affected by the generational,
56 Van den Wildenberg-de Kroon, Das Weltleben und die Bekehrung, 61.
57 “Wart, wie er sich gespranzelt hat / in so ritterleiche wat!,” Kummer, Erlauer Spiele,
116, lines 642–3.
Fig. 2.11. Second Master of San Giovanni in Villa (attrib.), The Conversion of

Mary Magdalene through the Agency of Martha (detail), c. 1370–90, fresco. Santa
Maddalena, Rencio Photo: Bettina Ravanelli.
contemporary, and cross-cultural network of influences radiating from

the Italian cities in the south, nearby Bolzano and the Germanic territo-
ries beyond the Alps.
The iconography of the unique opening scene has been presented as a
corollary to religious drama and more sympathetic vernacular accounts
of the Magdalene’s legend produced for a distinctly female audience. The
three striking edifices, neglected by previous scholarship yet so redolent
of stage scenery, function as a moral backdrop to the main protagonists,
reinforcing at the same time their polarities, as expressed through gender,
dress and gesture. But artistic invention was not contained to this single
frame. Rather it was woven throughout the decorative programs, as seen
in the inverted Annunciation on the triumphal arch and the paralleling of
Martha with the Virgin Mary through painted template.
With the overt agency of Martha in mind, the cycle was likely commis-
sioned by and tailored for a pious woman from the wealthy mercantile
class of Bolzano who perhaps identified with the active and contempla-
tive lives of the sisters, as well as their close family bond.58 This hypoth-
esis is supported by the painting’s emphasis on female instruction within
the family environs, particularly through the typological innovations. The
commission may have been an extension of the family’s association with
the church, with the coat-of-arms (on the exterior of the church?) being
lost over time. After all, it was the most privileged families that paid for
buildings and artistic commissions in order to promote their status in
society, ensure their legacy, and save their souls.59 Although Santa Madd-
alena was on the rural periphery of Bolzano, it can be seen as part of this
general cultural expansion and connectivity, particularly in view of the
sophisticated presentation of the popular legend. It is, however, Martha’s
role in her sister’s worldly life that may have resonated most with a female
patron, and audience, who sought guidance on teaching social decorum
and spiritual continence within the confines of the family.
58 This will be explored in a forthcoming article.

59 The Florentine bankers, the De’ Rossi (naturalized Botsch) dominated the commer-
cial and artistic life of fourteenth-century Bolzano. Their black and white striped heraldry
forms part of the decorative frame of the Baptist cycle in San Giovanni in Villa (c. 1365)
and in the former San Nicola chapel of San Domenico. The heraldry of the Weineck and
Warth families is present on the façade of the church of San Vigilio, also Bolzano periphery
(c. 1395). See Roberto Bartalini, “”Iudicium”. Un affresco a San Vigilio al Virgolo a Bolzano
e la liturgia funebre tardomedievale,” in Trecento. Pittori gotici a Bolzano. Atti del Convegno
di Studi (Bolzano: Comune di Bolzano, 2006), pp. 45–53. For a detailed study of mercantile
family patronage in Bolzano, see Gustav Pfeifer, “’Neuer’ Adel im Bozen des 14. Jahrhunderts
Botsch von Florenz und Niklaus Vintler,” Pro Civitate Austriae, New Series, 6 (2001), 3–23.
Chapter Three
The GERMAN Iconography of the Saint Magdalene

Altarpiece: Documenting Its CONTEXT
Amy M. Morris
Described as “the most famous and significant Magdalene altar in

Germany,”1 there have been few comprehensive iconographic studies
of Lucas Moser’s Saint Magdalene Altarpiece (1432), especially in recent
decades (fig. 3.1a, 3.1b). Previous considerations of the altarpiece’s ico-
nography were embedded in broad examinations of the artist’s style and
mainly identified the textual sources for the various scenes and estab-
lished their general meaning.2 While a complete iconographic analysis,
one that includes the symbolism of the myriad details of individual scenes
is beyond the scope of this discussion, by clarifying misunderstandings in
the early literature and calling attention to the regional and local influ-
ences present in the altarpiece, this essay is the necessary point of depar-
ture for any further consideration of the Saint Magdalene Altarpiece’s
iconography.
The Magdalene Altarpiece: Description and Textual Sources
Similar to most extant Magdalene cycles, a combination of textual sources,

including the New Testament Gospels and medieval legend served as the
foundation for the scenes portrayed on the Saint Magdalene Altarpiece.
In its closed position, the altarpiece consists of five separate scenes, four
1 Marga Anstett-Janßen, “Maria Magdalena in der abendländischen Kunst. Ikonog-

raphie der Heiligen von den Anfängen bis ins 16. Jahrhundert” (PhD diss., Freiburg im
Breisgau, 1962), 255.
2 Hans Rott, “Die Kirche zu Tiefenbronn bei Pforzheim und ihre Kunstwerke,” Badische
Heimat 12 (1925): 126–130; Hans Rott, Die Kirche zu Tiefenbronn bei Pforzheim (Augsburg:
Filser, 1929), 17–20; Graf Johannes von Waldburg-Wolfegg, Lukas Moser (Berlin: Junker
und Dünnhaupt, 1939), 24–35; Kurt Bauch, Der Tiefenbronner Altar des Lucas Moser (Bre-
men: Angelsachsen-Verlag, 1940), 3–8; Hildegard von Baranayai-Dannenberg, Die Kirche
zu Tiefenbronn (Berlin: Deutscher Kunstverlag, 1948), 6; Wilhelm Boeck, Der Tiefenbronner
Altar von Lucas Moser (Munich: Gesellschaft für Wissenschaftliches Lichtbild, 1951), 17–23;
Helmut May, Lucas Moser (Stuttgart: E. Fink, 1967), 16–25.
76 amy m. morris
Fig. 3.1a. Lucas Moser, Saint Magdalene Altarpiece, 1432, panel, 300 × 240 cm.
St. Maria Magdalena Church, Tiefenbronn, Germany. Photo: Denkmalpflege
Baden-Württemberg.
the german iconography of the saint magdalene altarpiece 77
Fig. 3.1b. Lucas Moser, Saint Magdalene Altarpiece, altarpiece opened, 1432,

panel, 300 × 240 cm. St. Maria Magdalena Church, Tiefenbronn, Germany. Photo:
Denkmalpflege Baden-Württemberg.
78 amy m. morris
of which represent episodes from the life of Mary Magdalene. The cycle
begins at the top in the arch-shaped lunette with the Anointing where
Mary Magdalene is depicted washing the feet of Christ with her tears and
drying them with her hair. The two most detailed Gospel accounts for the
scene are Luke 7:36–50 and John 12:1–18 both of which informed Moser’s
representation of the scene.3 Seated at the table with Christ are Simon the
Pharisee, Lazarus, and Peter.4 To the right, Martha, the Magdalene’s leg-
endary sister, approaches the table carrying a serving dish and a spoon.5
Below the lunette the central body of the altarpiece consists of three
scenes, which are separated from one another by a green border con-
taining the altar’s dedication, the promise of indulgence, and the artist’s
inscription.6 Together these scenes illustrate the Magdalene’s legendary
3 According to Luke (7:36–38) when Christ was eating dinner at the house of a Pharisee,
a woman, known as a sinner, came to see him. She brought with her an alabaster box full
of ointment “and standing behind at his feet, she began to wash his feet, with tears, and
wiped them with the hairs of her head, and kissed his feet, and anointed them with the
ointment.” Similarly in the Gospel of John, Christ attended a feast in Bethany . . . “they
made him a supper there: and Martha served: but Lazarus was one of them that were at
table with him. Mary therefore took a pound of ointment of right spikenard, of great price,
and anointed the feet of Jesus, and wiped his feet with her hair” v. 2–3. In Matthew 26:6–13
and Mark 14:3–9 the banquet takes place in the house of the Pharisee in Bethany. For more
information regarding the argument over whether or not the Gospel accounts were all
referring to the same event, see Thomas Zeller, Die Salbung bei Simon dem Pharisäer und
in Bethanien. Studien zur Bildtradition der beiden Themen in der italienischen Kunst von den
Anfängen im. 9. Jahrhundert bis zum Ende des Cinquecento (Cologne: Böhlau Verlag, 1997).
4 The presence of Peter at the scene is relatively unusual and cannot be explained by
either Luke’s or John’s accounts of that banquets at which Christ was present. In the nar-
rative of the Feast at Simon’s no other person is specifically mentioned outside of Simon.
In John’s account of the Feast in Bethany Judas rather than Peter is specified as being in
attendance. He criticizes Mary for being wasteful.
5 For information on the identification of Mary Magdalene with Mary of Bethany, see
the introduction of this anthology. The contrast between the Magdalene at Christ’s feet
and Martha’s serving is undoubtedly an allusion to the active life and the contemplative
life. Graf Johannes von Waldburg-Wolfegg identified the motif of Martha serving as a new
element in the scene. Lukas Moser, 27. In monastic literature Mary Magdalene became
the model for the contemplative life while her legendary, sister, Martha was the exemplar
of the active life. See Michelle Erhardt’s essay in this volume for a discussion of the vita
contemplativa and vita activa and how Mary Magdalene and Martha came to represent
these respectively.
6 The dedication inscription, HIC.IN.ALTARI HONORANDI.SV/NT.I B(EA)TA.MARIA.
MAGDALENA/2° B(EA)TVS.ANTONIUS.3°. B(EA)TUS/VENERABILIS.EKHARDUS, is located
in the upper horizontal border of the main inscription. Contained in the lower horizontal
border is the so-called indulgence phrase,[. . .] DICAT [. . .]/ MARIA.MAGDALENA (ET).
IN.DIE./BE(A)TI. ANTHONY. (ET).EKHARDI.TOTIDEM.INDVLGENCIA [. . .]. Franz Hein-
zmann and Mathias Köhler, Der Magdalenenaltar des Lucas Moser in der gotischen Basi-
lika Tiefenbronn (Regensburg: Verlag Schnell & Steiner, 1994), 16. The artist’s lament, schri.
kvnst.schri.vnd.klag.dich.ser.din.begert.iecz.niemen.mer.so.o.we.1432., is in the left vertical
border. In the right vertical border is the artist’s inscription, LVCAS.MOSER.MALER.VON.
life after Christ’s Ascension. In the late Middle Ages and Renaissance the
most widely circulated source for saints’ legends was Jacobus da Voragine’s
Golden Legend.7 In the Magdalene’s vita, Voragine recounted her expul-
sion from Judea, subsequent Christianization of France, and hermetical
retreat in the wilderness. Reading from left to right on the main body of
the altarpiece, the first scene of the Sea Journey, shows the Magdalene
and her companions floating at sea in a rudderless boat. According to
Voragine, the Magdalene and her followers were set adrift at sea to per-
ish, but instead landed safely in the pagan city of Marseilles in south-
ern France. The second scene of the Magdalene Altarpiece, the Arrival of
Mary Magdalene and her Companions in Marseilles depicts this segment of
Voragine’s legend. In the lower half of the Arrival, her companions, includ-
ing Martha, Lazarus, Maximin, and Cedonius, sleep under the shelter of a
portico outside the city gates of Marseilles while Mary Magdalene appears
to the city’s rulers in the upper half of the image demanding that they
convert to Christianity. According to her legend, after performing miracles
for the rulers of Marseilles and leading a life of penitential seclusion in the
wilderness, prior to her death, Mary Magdalene received her Last Com-
munion from Maximin, the bishop of Aix-en-Provence. In the third scene
of the central part of the altarpiece, the Last Communion, Moser placed
the figures of Maximin and the Magdalene, who is supported by angels, in
an elaborate Gothic portal lined with tracery and sculpted figures.
The predella of the Saint Magdalene Altarpiece does not portray a scene
from the Magdalene’s life as one would expect, but rather the bust-length
figures of Christ as the Man of Sorrows flanked by the Wise and Foolish
Virgins. Along with a few surviving visual examples, considered below,
textual sources may account for the unique pairing of a Magdalene leg-
end with Matthew’s parable (25:1–13) of the Wise and Foolish Virgins.8
WIL.MAISTER.DEZ. WERX.BIT.GOT.VIR.IN. Reiner Hausherr, “‘Der Magdalenenaltar in

Tiefenbronn.’ Bericht über die wissenschaftliche Tagung am 9. und 10. März im Zentralin-
stitut für Kunstgeschichte in München,” Kunstchronik 24 (1971): 189.
7 Jacobus da Voragine, The Golden Legend, trans. by William Granger Ryan, vol. 1 (Princ-
eton: Princeton University Press, 1993).
8 One of the textual links between the Wise and Foolish Virgins and the Magdalene
and Martha was found in the third Nocturn of the Roman Breviary on the Feast of St.
Martha, which is July 29. Hans Rott, Die Kirche zu Tiefenbronn bei Pforzheim, 20. Among
the readings on Martha’s feast, both the Homily of Saint Augustine and Lesson viii include
Martha and the Virgins. More relevant to this discussion is Saint Augustine’s homily since
both Martha and Mary Magdalene are mentioned. The sermon states, “Martha and Mary
were two sisters, real sisters both, not only in the flesh, but in piety also; both adhered to
the Lord, both with one mind served the Lord, present in the flesh.” Joseph A. Nelson, ed.
Roman Breviary in English, vol. 3 (New York: Benziger, 1950), 711. Following the passage
80 amy m. morris
The predella is also significant as the location for the patrons’ coats of
arms. Displayed in its outer corners are two coats of arms that presumably
belonged to the original donors of the altarpiece. Hansmartin Decker-
Hauff identified these as the heraldic devices of a couple who married
around 1410.9 The shield on the left, which consists of three vertically
aligned stone axes against a gold ground belonged to the husband of the
couple, Bernhard von Stein zu Steinegg. The owner of the coat of arms on
the right, which display a bird placed before a diagonally divided red and
white field was Frau Agnes Maiser von Berg. It is worth noting here that
Agnes Maiser von Berg was possibly a sibling of the Abbot of the nearby
Hirsau monastery. As will be discussed in the following paragraphs, Hir-
sau’s role in the creation of the Saint Magdalene Altarpiece is documented
in the work’s iconography. The relationship of this couple to the icono-
graphic details of the Saint Magdalene Altarpiece remains unclear, since
the present coats of arms belong to a second work phase.10 It has not been
from the sermon is a response relating to the Wise Virgins, “This is a wise Virgin, whom
the Lord found watching who, when she took her lamp, brought oil with her and when the
Lord came, she went in with him to the marriage. V. at midnight a cry arose: Behold, the
bridegroom is coming, go forth to meet him.” Nelson, Roman Breviary, 111–112.
In addition to the passages in the Roman Breviary, the Golden Legend, in its repeated
association of Mary Magdalene with light, may explain the presence of the Wise and Fool-
ish Virgins in a Magdalene cycle. Graf Johannes von Waldburg-Wolfegg, Lucas Moser,
33–34. One of the instances in the Golden Legend in which Mary Magdalene is related to
light is in the meaning of her name. Along with the meaning of bitter sea (amarum mare),
according to Voragine, the name Mary, or Maria, can be interpreted as illuminator or illu-
minated. The meanings of her name also correspond to the parts or shares of penance,
inward contemplation and heavenly glory that she chose. Voragine explained, “Since she
chose the best part of inward contemplation, she is called enlightener, because in contem-
plation she drew draughts of light so deep that in turn she poured out light in abundance:
in contemplation she received the light with which she afterwards enlightened others. As
she chose the best part of heavenly glory, she is called illuminated, because she now is
enlightened by the light of perfect knowledge in her mind and will be illumined the light
of glory in her body.” Voragine, Golden Legend, vol. 1, 374–375.
Mary Magdalene also fulfills the role of a light bringer in the legend of Martha in the
Golden Legend. Waldburg-Wolfegg, Lucas Moser, 34. As Saint Martha neared death, she
requested that her companions remain awake to keep the lamps lighted until she had
died. They fell asleep and she felt evil spirits swarming around her and prayed. Then she
saw her sister coming to her carrying a torch with which she lighted all the candles and
lamps. Voragine, Golden Legend, vol. 2, 25. Also see Penny Howell Jolly, “The Wise and
Foolish Magdalene, the Good Widow, and Rogier van der Weyden’s Braque Triptych,”
Studies in Iconography 31 (2010): 105–109. Additionally, see Amy Morris, “Mary Magdalene
as Exemplar of the Contemplative Life in Lukas Moser’s St. Magdalene Altarpiece,” (MA
thesis, Kent State University, 1995), 55–56.
9 Hausherr, “ ‘Der Magdalenenaltar in Tiefenbronn.’ ” 192.
10 R. Straub, E.-L. Richter, H. Härlin and W. Brandt, “Der Magdalenenaltar des Lucas
Moser. Eine technische Studie,” in Althöfer, H., Straub, R. and Willemsen, E., Beiträge zur
established definitively if they represent the original donors or slightly

later owners of the altarpiece.
In the open position of the altarpiece, the lunette and the predella
remain visible. When the central shrine doors, which form the central
scene of the Arrival are opened, the viewer is confronted with a mag-
nificent sculpted depiction of Mary Magdalene’s Elevation. Because this
work is not original, but added nearly a century after the altarpiece’s com-
pletion, its iconography will not be considered.11 Belonging to the origi-
nal altarpiece, however, are the painted interior wings, which flank the
sculpted Elevation and portray the standing figures of Martha and Lazarus,
Mary Magdalene’s legendary siblings.
France and the “Saint Magdalene Altarpiece”: A Misconception
In the early art historical literature Hans Rott described the Magdalene
Altarpiece as a “sphinx that beckons with a thousand riddles.”12 In this
statement he was acknowledging the absence of documentation about
the artist, the patron, circumstances surrounding its commission, and
the selection of Mary Magdalene as the subject for an altarpiece in Tie-
fenbronn, a small village in the Swabian Black Forest, near Pforzheim.
The Saint Magdalene Altarpiece still resides in the church of Santa Maria
Magdalena for which it was created and is located on an altar in the south-
east corner of the church. When Rott described the Tiefenbronn Altar-
piece as a sphinx, he certainly could not have predicted that decades later,
in 1969, the preeminent archivist and scholar, Gerhard Piccard, would
claim that it was never made for Tiefenbronn but only came there later
and that some of its features were forged to make it “look” as if it were
German.13 Piccard claimed that the Magdalene Altarpiece hailed from
Untersuchung und Konservierung mittelalterlicher Kunstwerke (Munich: Deutscher Kun-

stverlag, 1974), 43.
11 In the early sixteenth century, less than one hundred years after the Saint Magdalene
Altarpiece was created, its shrine was renovated. Technical study revealed that its origi-
nal shrine had been enlarged to accommodate a larger sculpture. Ernst-Ludwig Richter,
“Zur Rekonstruktion des Tiefenbronner Magdalenenalters,” Pantheon 30 (1972): 33–38. For
a discussion of the debate over the original contents of the shrine, see Amy Morris, “Lucas
Moser’s St. Magdalene Altarpiece: Solving the Riddle of the Sphinx,” (PhD diss., Indiana
University, 2006), 153–160.
12 Hans Rott, “Die Kirche zu Tiefenbronn,” 122.
13 Gerhard Piccard, Der Magdalenenaltar des >Lukas Moser< in Tiefenbronn. Ein Beitrag
zur europäischen Kunstgeschichte mit einer Untersuchung die Tiefenbronner Patrozinien
und ihre (Hirsauer) Herkunft (Wiesbaden: Otto Harrassowitz, 1969).
82 amy m. morris
Vézelay, the Magdalene’s cult center and that its artist was a follower of
Simone Martini. Although a subsequent technical examination14 of the
Saint Magdalene Altarpiece proved that its inscriptions were original and
that it was made for its current location, with respect to its iconography,
the idea that France influenced it has never been corrected in the art his-
torical literature—one of the aims of the present study.
In the early literature on the Saint Magdalene Altarpiece, suggesting
that a work devoted to the Magdalene was somehow out of place in the
German village of Tiefenbronn, several scholars contended that a connec-
tion to France inspired its subject. Hans Rott and Georg Troescher implied
that Moser’s artistic training in France played a role in promoting the
Magdalene at Tiefenbronn. In the discussion of Moser’s artistic formation,
both Hans Rott15 and Georg Troescher16 argued that Moser was active in
France, where he would have been acquainted with the important pil-
grimage destinations dedicated to the Magdalene and her siblings. More-
over, these scholars observed that through a prolonged stay in France the
artist would have seen the many painted cyclical depictions of her life.
Not all scholars who acknowledged a French presence in the imagery
of the Tiefenbronn Magdalene altar attributed it to the artist’s travels in
France. Charles Sterling claimed that the selection of Mary Magdalene as
the subject of the altarpiece came about through French visitors in the
region of southwest Germany.17 He proposed that the Council of Basel
(convened in 1431) accounted for what he perceived to be an unusual
theme for the location. According to him, the presence of the Provencal
high clergy, who had gathered in southwest Germany for the Council, may
have sparked the donor’s interest in Provence.18 Instead of attributing the
selection of the subject to the artist, which is highly unlikely considering
the artistic practices of the time period, Sterling acknowledged that it was
the donor who would have determined the subject.19
14 Straub, “Eine technische Studie,” 9–46.

15 Hans Rott speculated that Moser spent several years in Dijon. Rott, “Die Kirche zu
Tiefenbronn,” 132.
16 According to Georg Troescher, before 1430, Moser was active for an indeterminable
period of time in a southern French workshop and was likely in Avignon. Georg Troe-
scher, “Die Pilgerfahrt des Robert Campin: altniederländische und südwestdeutsche Maler
in Südostfrankreich,” Jahrbuch der Berliner Museen 9 (1967): 132.
17 Charles Sterling, “Observations on Moser’s Tiefenbronn Altarpiece,” Pantheon 30
(1972): 19–32.
18 Sterling, “Observations,” 30.
19 This observation is important, since not only was it customary for donors to choose
the subject as has been demonstrated in numerous studies on patronage, no sufficient
Along with acknowledging the value of the donor, Sterling identi-

fied particular features of the altarpiece’s iconography that he viewed as
French. Generally speaking, Sterling perceived the prominence of Lazarus
and Martha and the portrayal of the Marseilles legend as indicating a con-
nection to France. Recall that Martha and Lazarus not only appear in the
Anointing, Sea Journey, and Arrival, but also are prominently featured as
isolated individuals on the interior wings of the altarpiece. More specifi-
cally, Sterling described the phosphorescent creatures (birds, lions, drag-
ons, snakes, starfish, and snails) inhabiting the ground on which Martha
and Lazarus stand (on the interior wings) as an “ingenious allusion to the
Provencal mission of Martha and Lazarus.”20 These symbols, according
to him, refer to the triumph of Christianity in France, which was brought
forth through the efforts of the Bethany siblings. The same message was
contained in the use of two different architectural styles for the church in
the scene of the Last Communion. While rounded arches (Romanesque)
comprise the nave arcade, the Gothic portal features a pointed arch. Ster-
ling described the combination of Romanesque and Gothic architecture in
the scene of the Last Communion as symbolic of “the evangelical mission
of Maximin, the first bishop of Aix cathedral, slowly eliminating paganism
in Provence.”21
While earlier scholarship proposed that a connection to France influ-
enced the selection of the Magdalene as the subject for the Saint Magdalene
Altarpiece, mentioned previously, Gerhard Piccard came to a different
conclusion, boldly claiming that the altarpiece was made in France at
Vézelay. Among the main pieces of evidence on which his theory rested
was the absence of a Magdalene cult in Tiefenbronn.22 For him, not only
evidence has come to light to support that Moser trained in France. For a more in-depth
discussion of Moser’s relationship to Upper-Rhenish painting, see Amy M. Morris, “Lucas
Moser’s St. Magdalene Altarpiece,” 203–12 and 215–39. The visual similarities between
Moser and Upper-Rhenish painting suggest that he trained in southern Germany and not
France.
22 His theory of the Magdalene’s origins was largely based on Vézelay’s position as
the premiere cult center for the Magdalene in the later Middle Ages. As such, they pos-
sessed indulgence privileges in connection with Mary Magdalene’s cult, which, for him,
accounted for the indulgence inscription on the Saint Magdalene Altarpiece. The unique
quality of the altarpiece as well as its costliness resulted from the work’s original func-
tion as a cult object at Vézelay. The elaborate nature of the work was appropriate for an
object intended to serve as a cult focus. Gerhard Piccard, Der Magdalenenaltar, 180. Prior
to Piccard, scholars based assumptions about the Tiefenbronn Altarpiece’s connections to
France on a perceived lack of importance of the Magdalene in southern Germany. Casting
84 amy m. morris
was Mary Magdalene not an official patron of the Tiefenbronn church

in the fifteenth century, no benefice dedicated to her appeared until the
sixteenth century.23 Failing to take into account other types of evidence
for Magdalene veneration, Piccard asserted that it would not have been
logical to find a cycle of Magdalene imagery in a place that lacked a strong
Magdalene cult.
Mary Magdalene’s Cult in Germany and Signs of Magdalene

Devotion at Tiefenbronn
While a groundbreaking technical study (1971) of the Saint Magdalene

Altarpiece proved its originality, the misconception in the early art histori-
cal literature of the significance of France for its iconography has never
been adequately addressed. An important issue raised in this article, that
refutes the acknowledgement of French influence in earlier scholarship,
is the close dependence of the Saint Magdalene Altarpiece on German
sources. What earlier iconographic studies failed to take into account is
that a distinct Magdalene iconography had developed in Germany and
that the artist and/or theological adviser of the Saint Magdalene Altar-
piece was aware of this tradition. Before investigating the uniquely Ger-
man character of its iconography it is necessary to address the skewed
perception of the Magdalene’s cult in Germany, and, more specifically, at
Tiefenbronn in the early literature.
Hans Hansels’s studies on the Magdalene cult in Germany demonstrated
her early popularity there.24 Hansel emphasized that her western cult did
not spread only from the grave monuments in Vézelay as is often assumed
in scholarship. Rather, like all of Christ’s immediate companions, she was
Mary Magdalene’s popularity in southwest Germany in doubt, Hans Rott described the
Saint Magdalene Altarpiece as the only known representation of the Magdalene legend
among Upper-Rhenish shrine altars. Hans Rott, “Die Kirche zu Tiefenbronn,” 132. In areas,
such as Provence, where presumably the Magdalene’s cult was much more widespread,
there is evidence for numerous altarpieces depicting her. For example, in Provence, there
are seven documented altarpieces (none are extant) depicting Mary Magdalene. Georg
Troescher, “Die Pilgerfahrt des Robert Campin,” 127–28.
23 Among the pieces of evidence used to dismiss the existence of a Magdalene cult was
the late date of Mary Magdalene’s establishment as a patron and benefice in her name.
She was not officially a patron of the church until the eighteenth century. In addition, the
benefice, which was not established until 1526, was never wealthy. Piccard, Der Magdale-
nenaltar, 68–70; 94–95.
24 Hans Hansel, Die Maria-Magdalena-Legende: eine Quellenuntersuchung (Greifswald:
Dallmeyer, 1937) and “Die Geschichte der Magdalenenverehrung in Deutschland,” Volk und
Volkstum, Jahrbuch für Volkskunde 1 (1936): 269–277.
celebrated from an early point without a specific cult center.25 Evidence

for Magdalene devotion in Germany is well-documented already in the
early Middle Ages through the appearance of hymns in her honor26 and
specially designated feasts.27 Also contributing to the Magdalene’s popu-
larity in Germany was the development of a Magdalene order, which was
established in Wurms.28 In the decade after the order was established,
Magdalene convents were created in Strasbourg, Mühlhausen, Thüringen,
Würzburg, Speyer, Frankfurt am Mainz, Mainz, Cologne, Basel, Regens-
burg, and Erfurt. Corresponding to the growth of her order, evidence for
her increasing popularity is evident in the creation of feasts and indul-
gences in her honor.29 Along with the Magdalene Order, Mary Magdalene’s
visibility increased through her role in mystery plays. Mary Magdalene’s
role as Luke’s anonymous sinner and witness to the Resurrection made
her a primary character in religious drama.30 Joanne Anderson’s article
in this anthology, “Mary Magdalene and Her Dear Sister: Innovation in
the late Medieval Mural Cycle of Santa Maddalena in Rencio (Bolzano)”
demonstrates the significance of mystery plays for Magdalene imagery in
the Alpine regions.
25 Hansel, “Die Geschichte der Magdalenenverehrung,” 270.

26 The hymns Jesu Christus auctor vitae and Votiva cunctis orbita are contained in litur-
gical books from Verona, Seckau, Rheinau, Prüfening, Schäftlarn, Zwiefalten, and Admont,
which date from the tenth and eleventh centuries. In addition, the creators of the old-
est sequences were Hermann from Reichenau and Gottshalk from Limbourg. Hansel,
“Geschichte der Magdalenenverehrung,” 272.
27 Dating from the tenth and eleventh centuries, the oldest hymns and sequences in
Mary Magdalene’s honor originated in southern German monasteries. As further testi-
mony to the strength of Mary Magdalene in Germany, next to her feast day of July 22, a
festum conversionis was also celebrated in connection with the Feast of Christ on March 1,
10 or 11. Hansel, “Geschichte der Magdalenenverehrung,” 272.
28 Rudolph from Wurms founded the Magdalene order in 1224. For more information
on the history and development of the Magdalene Order, see Hansel, “Geschichte der
Magdalenenverehrung,” 274, n. 2.
29 Among these, the Magdalene’s feast day was raised to the rank of a special holy day,
and Pope Gregory the IX expressly recommended in a letter (1228) to the Episcopate and
clergy of Germany that the feast of Mary Magdalene should be celebrated in all churches
of the diocese. In addition, in order to increase the respect of Mary Magdalene convents
and encourage thoughts of penitence in the people, Gregory IX granted all believers an
indulgence upon the visit to a Mary Magdalene church on the Annunciation and Assump-
tion of the Virgin, the Feast of Mary Magdalene, the church dedication day or in Easter
week. Finally, Gregory IX instructed the Franciscans and Dominicans in their sermons to
recommend the Magdalene’s “Liebestätigkeit.” Hansel, “Geschichte der Magdalenenvereh-
rung,” 274–75.
30 Cornelia van den Wildenberg-de Kroon. Das Weltleben und die Bekehrung der Maria
Magdalena im deutschen religiösen Drama und in der bildenden Kunst des Mittelalters
(Tilburg: Rodopi, 1979).
86 amy m. morris
Specifically at Tiefenbronn numerous manifestations of Mary

Magdalene’s popularity exist. The dedication of the Saint Magdalene
Altarpiece, which lists Mary Magdalene as one of the saints to whom
the altar was dedicated, demonstrates that she was a popular local saint
already at the time it was created. Additionally, the numerous images
of the Magdalene from the church’s inception at Tiefenbronn also con-
firm her beloved status. At the time the church was built (after 1380),
Mary Magdalene, along with the Virgin, appeared as sculpted figures
on the exterior of the choir. It is also likely that she was included among
the saints in the arch-shaped frescoes (c. 1400) on the eastern wall of the
Tiefenbronn church. The installation of the Saint Magdalene Altarpiece
in the southeast corner of the church destroyed one of the four wall fres-
coes (three are still preserved). Reflecting the altar’s dedication to Mary
Magdalene, Anthony, and Erhard, it is likely that these three saints were
the figures represented on the destroyed wall altar.
While representations of Mary Magdalene from the fourteenth and fif-
teenth centuries demonstrate her early popularity, the images of her even
after the Saint Magdalene Altarpiece was created, document the steady
development of her following at Tiefenbronn. Although the high altar
by Hans Schüchlin is essentially a Marian altarpiece, Mary Magdalene’s
prominence in the scenes is noteworthy. Because of her numerous
appearances, Mathias Köhler referred to the high altar as not only a Pas-
sion cycle or Marian cycle, but also a Magdalene cycle. Mary Magdalene
appears in seven of the nine scenes of the Passion and Resurrection.31
Because of the prominence of Mary Magdalene in the shrine of the high
altar, Maria Schütte identified Tiefenbronn as the cult center for her in
Germany.32 Additional Magdalene imagery in the church at Tiefenbronn
includes a carved representation of her holding an ointment jar at the
end of the choir stall, which was executed c. 1510. The renovation of the
Saint Magdalene Altarpiece with an enlarged shrine and larger sculpture
in the 1520s must be viewed not only as testimony to the significance of
the altarpiece, but also her sustained popularity.
Mary Magdalene’s elevated status is evident not only in the numerous
representations of her in the Tiefenbronn church, but in a documented
account from 1559 describing her feast as a special day of pilgrimage.
Located in the ecclesiastical regulations of the Herzog Christoph von
31 Heinzmann and Köhler, Der Magdalenenaltar, 6.

32 Maria Schütte, Der Schwäbische Schnitzaltar (Strasbourg: J.H.E. Heitz, 1907), 19.
Würzburg a description of pilgrimage to Tiefenbronn states that, “men,

women, young and old come from far away places through the forest for
pilgrimage during Passion week. In addition to this there is a great pilgrim-
age on Mary Magdalene’s day.”33 It can be inferred that in order for a “great
pilgrimage” to have taken place in her name in the sixteenth century that
a Magdalene following developed at a much earlier point than historical
documents suggest. Along with the development of a Magdalene pilgrim-
age, the change that occurred in the church dedication is also significant.
The church at Tiefenbronn was originally dedicated to the Virgin as was
common practice.34 In the sixteenth century, the Magdalene was named
as the official patron of the church in a surviving document.35 We can
only assume from this shift in dedication that the Magdalene was already
on her way to becoming the most prominent saint in Tiefenbronn in the
fifteenth century. Moreover, there can be no doubt that the Magdalene
imagery at Tiefenbronn helped to promote and sustain her cult.
Establishing a German Magdalene Iconography
In the early art historical literature one of the most misleading obser-
vations relative to the altarpiece’s iconography was the suggestion that
the inclusion of scenes from her Provencal legend and the prominence
of Martha and Lazarus implied French influence. The preceding discus-
sion of the prominence of Mary Magdalene’s cult in Germany, and, more
specifically, Tiefenbronn, refuted the hypothesis that the inspiration for
the theme of the Tiefenbronn Saint Magdalene Altarpiece had to come
from France. In short, Mary Magdalene was not the exclusive property
of France. Additionally, attributing the representation of the Marseilles
legend to French influence disregarded the reality that it had become
an integral part of the saint’s legend and as such appeared in Magdalene
cycles throughout Europe. The earlier emphasis on France also ignored
the significant role that the mendicant orders in Italy played in establish-
ing a Magdalene iconography that spread through various parts of Europe,
33 Mathias Köhler, St. Maria Magdalena Tiefenbronn (Lindenberg: Kunstverlag Fink,

1998), 3.
34 The Virgin is listed as the patron of the church in a donation document from 1347.
Hans Rott, “Die Kirche zu Tiefenbronn,” 103.
35 The first mention of Mary Magdalene as a joint patron of the church at Tiefenbronn
is found in a donation document from Ursula von Gemmingen on March 30, 1621. Piccard,
Der Magdalenenaltar, 69–70.
88 amy m. morris
including Germany. In the fourteenth century, Germany developed a

cohesive Magdalene iconography that borrowed more heavily from Italy
than France in the emphasis on Mary Magdalene’s penitent life.36
Additionally, in Germany, manuscript illumination played an especially
important role in disseminating the Magdalene’s legend. The following
sections identify the manner in which the various scenes on the Saint
Magdalene Altarpiece reflect the iconographic traditions established in
Germany, thereby anchoring the work in regional traditions.
The Proof is in the Details: The Anointing and Last Communion
In the development and spread of Magdalene imagery, Italy played a sig-

nificant role in creating a more or less standard canon of scenes in cyclical
representations. Michelle Erhardt’s essay in this anthology, “The Magdalene
as Mirror: Trecento Franciscan Imagery in the Guidalotti-Rinuccini Cha-
pel, Florence” identifies some of the scenes or episodes that commonly
appeared in Italian fourteenth-century cycles. Two of the scenes on the
Saint Magdalene Altarpiece that were commonly featured in Magdalene
cycles throughout Europe are the first and the last scenes, the Anointing
and the Last Communion, respectively. While the selection of these scenes
reinforced the Magdalene’s universal role as a penitent and model for
the reception of the sacraments, the manner in which they were repre-
sented often varied geographically. Identifying Moser’s representation of
the Anointing as German rather than Italian is the placement of the scene
outdoors. Recall that this scene is based on Luke’s and John’s description
of a supper at which Christ was in attendance. In Italian representations of
the scene, such as that found in the Guidalotti-Rinuccini Chapel in Santa
Croce in Florence (see Michelle Erhardt’s and Andrea Begel’s essays) the
supper is usually represented in an architecturally-defined setting.
Why German representations of the scene opted to place the scene
outdoors has not been established. It is significant, however, that this
shift to portraying the scene outside as opposed to inside a building
occurred rather early in German cycles. For example, the scene of the
36 The emphasis on penance that was to permeate German Magdalene iconography

is manifest in the first legendary scene from the Magdalene’s life to appear in Germany.
Although not a Magdalene cycle, the Nuremberg Graduale, created around 1300, boasts
Germany’s earliest depiction of Mary Magdalene’s legendary life in the scene of the Last
Communion, which was depicted in the initial G. This manuscript has been stylistically
designated as Frankish or Upper-Rhenish. Marga Anstett-Janßen, “Maria Magdalena in der
abendländischen Kunst,” 156.
Anointing from the Magdalene cycle at Dusch at Graubünden (not illus-

trated) takes place outside. Created in the first half of the thirteenth cen-
tury it is oldest surviving Magdalene cycle in fresco in German-speaking
regions.37 In the Dusch Anointing the outdoor setting is suggested in a
similar manner to the same scene on the Saint Magdalene Altarpiece by
a narrow strip of green grass.38 Like the Magdalene cycles executed in
fresco, such as that at Dusch, those that appeared in manuscripts contin-
ued the convention established in Germany of placing the scene outdoors.
A fourteenth-century manuscript by Bertholdus Heyder, which is now in
the British Museum, also featured the Anointing as one of the scenes
from the Magdalene’s life.39 Like the frescoed version of the Anointing
at Dusch, the setting for the scene is outdoors. Similar to the Anointing
on the Saint Magdalene Altarpiece, blades of grass sprinkle the shallow
foreground ledge. In comparison to these earlier representations in fresco
and manuscript illumination, the effect of being outdoors is even more
pronounced in the Saint Magdalene Anointing through the vine-encircled
lattice behind the figures at the table.
Another example of the dependence of Moser’s Anointing on German
models is in the clothing worn by the Magdalene in this scene. In contrast
to Martha’s simple clothing, Mary Magdalene wears an elaborately layered
gown. Over an undergarment with green brocaded sleeves she wears a red
mantle trimmed with fur. The depiction of the Magdalene wearing courtly
garments was a deliberate allusion to her privileged birth as described in
the Golden Legend. It was in Germany where scenes of her secular life
were popularized. In German art, the Magdalene was first represented
wearing fur-lined robes in a fourteenth-century illuminated cycle, which
was created around 1330 for a Franciscan monastery in Bamberg (fig. 3.2).
The Anointing was one of ten episodes from the Magdalene’s life depicted
in this manuscript.40
37 This fresco has been attributed to the Waltensburger Master, who was active between
1325 and 1350 in Graubünden. The scenes of the Anointing, the Raising of Lazarus, the
Preaching of Mary Magdalene to the Rulers of Marseilles, the Elevation and the Last Com-
munion are arranged horizontally without borders between the scenes. Anstett-Janßen,
“Maria Magdalena in der Abeländischen Kunst,” 200–3.
38 Anstett-Janßen, “Maria Magdalena in der Abeländischen Kunst,” 200–203.
39 The manuscript includes representations of the Raising of Lazarus, Noli me tangere, the
Magdalene Preaching to the Rulers of Marseilles, the Elevation, the Last Communion and the
Death of Martha. It has been dated between 1370 and 1380. Unfortunately, the provenance is
unknown. Anstett-Janßen, “Maria Magdalena in der Abeländischen Kunst,” 213–16.
40 The cycle includes the scenes of the Feast in the House of Simon, Christ in the House
of Martha and Mary, the Raising of Lazarus, the Noli me tangere, Apostola Apostolorum,
Mary Magdalene Preaching to the Rulers of Marseilles, two depictions of the Elevation, the
90 amy m. morris
Fig. 3.2. Anointing (111r), Hist. 149, 1330, illumination. Staatsbibliothek, Bamberg,

Germany. Photo: Staatsbibliothek, Bamberg.
Similar to the scene of the Anointing, German representations of the Last

Communion also deviate from the Magdalene iconography that devel-
oped in other regions in Europe, particularly in Italy. In scenes of the Last
Communion, as in the Anointing, it is where the particular scene takes
place that marks it as uniquely German. In Italy, the Last Communion was
traditionally set in the wilderness. For example, in the Last Communion
in the Bargello, Mary Magdalene receives communion clothed only in her
long hair in a wilderness setting. In most German representations of the
Last Communion and the Death of Martha. Most of the scenes were depicted in the border
initials. The manuscript, Hist. 149, is in the Staatlichen Bibliothek in Bamberg. Anstett-
Janßen. “Maria Magdalena in der abendländischen Kunst,” 204–9.
Fig. 3.3. Last Communion (134r), Hist. 149, 1330, illumination. Staatsbibliothek,

Bamberg, Germany. Photo: Staatsbibliothek, Bamberg.
Last Communion beginning with the earliest, which appeared in a manu-

script known as the Nuremberg Graduale, the scene takes place in the
oratory of Maximin.41 The staging of the scene in a church was used again
for the Last Communion in the aforementioned Franciscan manuscript in
Bamberg where it takes place in front of an altar (fig. 3.3).42 Although
Moser staged the scene in a church portal, as opposed to before an altar,
the church setting is dependent on German representations of the Last
Communion.
41 This is the earliest known representation of the Magdalene’s legendary life in Ger-
many. Anstett-Janßen. “Maria Magdalena in der abendländischen Kunst,” 157.
42 Anstett-Janßen. “Maria Magdalena in der abendländischen Kunst,” 208.
92 amy m. morris
The Prominence of the Bethany Siblings
Along with specific iconographic details such as portraying the episode

of the Anointing outdoors or staging the Last Communion in a church as
opposed to the wilderness, giving prominence to Martha and Lazarus, was
a feature of the Magdalene iconography that developed in Germany. While
the prominence of Martha and Lazarus had earlier been used to reinforce
the Saint Magdalene Altarpiece’s connection to France, the popularity of
portraying these siblings jointly in German cycles of the fourteenth-cen-
tury refutes this observation. The aforementioned manuscript from Bam-
berg, which included ten scenes from the Magdalene’s life, also focused
heavily on Martha. In fact, the last third of the manuscript was devoted
to Mary Magdalene and Martha.43 The final scene of the Magdalene cycle
in this manuscript was not from Mary Magdalene’s legend, but rather was
the death of Martha, which was recounted in Martha’s vita.44
The evidence that Mary Magdalene was thought of in conjunction with
her siblings is evident not only in surviving manuscripts but in panel paint-
ings. Panels from a dismantled altarpiece, which may have been created
in the Poor Clares’ Convent in Nuremberg, formed an altarpiece of Mary
Magdalene and her siblings. Preserved scenes include not only the Anoint-
ing, but also the Raising of Lazarus and the Death of Martha.45 Dedications
of works also suggest that the Bethany siblings were commonly thought
of as a unit. A manuscript made around 1370 for the Poor Clares’ Convent
in Nuremberg, while depicting only scenes from the Magdalene’s life, was
dedicated not only to her but to Martha and Lazarus as well.46
43 This manuscript (Hist. 149) is located in the Staatlichen Bibliothek in Bamberg.

Anstett-Janßen. “Maria Magdalena in der abendländischen Kunst,” 204.
44 Anstett-Janßen. “Maria Magdalena in der abendländischen Kunst,” 208.
45 The panels of the altarpiece, which was made between 1350 and 1375, are currently
divided among the Germanisches Nationalmuseum in Nuremberg and the Bayerischen
National museum in Munich. Of the four extant scenes, three are in Nuremberg: the
Anointing, Raising of Lazarus and Death of Martha. The Noli me tangere is in Munich. The
proposed missing scenes of the altarpiece include the Magdalene Preaching in Marseilles,
her Elevation and Last Communion. “Maria Magdalena in der abendländischen Kunst,”
209–10.
46 This manuscript contains two scenes from Mary Magdalene’s life: Noli me tangere
and her Last Communion. It is located in the Bamberg Staatsbibliothek (Hist. 159). Anstett-
Janßen, “Maria Magdalena in der abendländischen Kunst,” 213.
Saelden Hort
While some of the scenes depicted on the Saint Magdalene Altarpiece,

including the Anointing and Last Communion were standard episodes for
Magdalene cycles throughout Europe, the scenes of the Sea Journey and
Arrival were rarely portrayed in Germany. That they were not commonly
depicted in German art does not discount the degree to which the ico-
nography of the Saint Magdalene Altarpiece depended on earlier German
Magdalene cycles. In fact, these scenes are the only two for which a spe-
cific model has been identified, and most importantly, a German source.
In her landmark study of Magdalene iconography, Marga Anstett-Janßen
identified the medieval Magdalene poem known as Der Saelden Hort as a
model for the scenes of the Sea Journey and Arrival on the Saint Magdalene
Altarpiece. Presently, two illustrated texts of Der Saelden Hort are extant,
both of which were probably based on a now lost model that was cre-
ated around 1390.47 The earlier text (Codex Vindobonensis 2841) was illus-
trated around the same time as the lost model, 1390, and is now located in
Vienna. Created in 1420, the second version (Saint Georgen 66) in Karlsruhe
is iconographically dependent on the fourteenth-century versions of the
text. Of particular relevance to the study of the Saint Magdalene Altarpiece
is the Saelden Hort in Karlsruhe. Demonstrating that the programmer of
the Saint Magdalene Altarpiece possessed an illustrated copy of Der Sael-
den Hort is the scene of the Sea Journey followed by the combined scene
of the Arrival, which portrays both the Magdalene’s companions huddled
before the city of Marseilles and her appearance to the rulers of the pagan
land. This same sequence of images exists in the Karlsruhe Saelden Hort
where two representations of the Sea Journey are followed immediately
the by the Appearance of Mary Magdalene to the rulers and the Compan-
ion of Mary Magdalene before the City Gates (figs. 3.4, 3.5, and 3.6).
47 The most exhaustive sources on the Saelden Hort include Heinrich Adrian, Der Sael-
den Hort, alemannisches Gedicht vom Leben Jesu, Johannes des Täufers und der Magdalena;
aus der Wiener und Karlsruher Handschrift (Berlin: Weidmann, 1927) and Frieda Eder, Stu-
dien zu der Saelden Hort; ein Beitrag zur gesellschaftlichen Bestimmtheit mittelalterlicher
Dichtung (Berlin: R. Pfau, 1938). The Saelden Hort is also discussed in, Annette Volfing,
John the Evangelist and Medieval German Writing: Imitating the Inimitable (Oxford: Oxford
University Press, 2001), 169–83.
94 amy m. morris
Fig. 3.4. Sea Journey (34v), Codex St. Georgen, 1420, illumination. Badischen
Landesbibliothek, Karlsruhe, Germany. Photo: Landesbibliothek, Karlsruhe.
Fig. 3.5. Mary Magdalene Appears to the Rulers of Marseilles (38v), Codex

St. Georgen, 1420, illumination. Badischen Landesbibliothek, Karlsruhe, Germany.
Photo: Landesbibliothek, Karlsruhe.
96 amy m. morris
Fig. 3.6. Mary Magdalene’s Companions Before the City Gates (37r), Codex
St. Georgen, 1420, illumination. Badischen Landesbibliothek, Karlsruhe, Germany.
Photo: Landesbibliothek, Karlsruhe.
The Popularity of the Wise and Foolish Virgins in Germany
The representation of the Sea Journey and the Arrival is not the only
exceptional feature of the Saint Magdalene Altarpiece that designates the
altarpiece’s iconography as German. Similarly, the unique presence of the
Wise and Foolish Virgins betrays its German production. Although no other
Magdalene cycle to my knowledge includes representations of the Wise
and Foolish Virgins there can be no doubt that the unsurpassed popular-
ity of the Wise and Foolish in monumental sculpture and wall painting in
Germany served as an inspiration.48
In the late Middle Ages the parable of the Wise and Foolish Virgins from
the Gospel of Matthew was depicted frequently in art. Primarily found on
the sculpted portals of Gothic churches it also appeared in wall paintings
and owed its popularity to the underlying message of judgment and the
necessity of being prepared. The story of the Five Wise and Foolish Virgins
is presented in Matthew’s Gospel account (25:1–13). In the parable, the
ten Virgins, five wise and five foolish, await the arrival of the Bridegroom,
Christ. The Foolish Virgins, who run out of oil, leave in search of more.
While they are gone, the bridegroom arrives and goes to the wedding feast
with the Five Wise Virgins, who had been well-prepared, bringing extra
oil for their lamps. The Foolish Virgins knock on the door of the feast, but
the bridegroom refuses to recognize them.
Significant to the Saint Magdalene Altarpiece’s connections to German
art is the prevalence of depictions of Matthew’s parable in Germany. This
subject was commonly placed on the portals of many German parish
churches and cathedrals. Significantly, of the four extant art objects that
connect the Magdalene and the Wise and Foolish Virgins visually, all are
German.49 Perhaps encouraging the association between Mary Magdalene
with the Wise and Foolish Virgins on the Saint Magdalene Altarpiece are
earlier representations of the parable in Germany. For example, following
the procession of the Wise Virgins on the main portal of the cathedral at
Freiburg is a statue of the Magdalene with her ointment jar.50
48 Regine Körkel-Hinkfoth, Die Parabel von den klugen und törichten Jungfrauen (Mt. 25,
1–13) in der bildenden Kunst und im geistlichen Schauspiel (Frankfurt: Peter Lang, 1994), 14.
49 Körkel-Hinkfoth, Die Parabel von den klugen und törichten Jungfrauen, 45 and
88–89.
50 The representation of the Wise and Foolish Virgins is located on the north side of the
main portal. The sculptures were created c. 1285/1300. For an illustration of the sculptures
see, Körkel-Hinkforth, Die Parabel von den klugen und törichten Jungfrauen, 540.
98 amy m. morris
Many iconographic features of the predella of the Saint Magdalene

Altarpiece follow those established in German representations of the Wise
and Foolish Virgins. Moser’s desire to clothe the Virgins in a variety of
headdresses and elaborate gowns reflects the custom of representing the
Virgins of Matthew’s parable in fashionable clothing. The artist also fol-
lowed the custom of portraying the Wise Virgins with their lamps lit while
those held by the Foolish Virgins are extinguished. Even the bust-length
format of the Tiefenbronn Altarpiece predella has parallels in images of the
Wise and Foolish Virgins in German churches, including the former parish
churches at Rommelshausen and Neckarbischofsheim.51
Expressions of the Local: Wolfram Maiser von Berg and Hirsau
The preceding discussion of the iconographic details that firmly anchor

the Saint Magdalene Altarpiece in the German iconographic tradition not
only dismisses a direct connection to France, but also begs the question
whether its imagery reflects even more local concerns. Demonstrated in
other essays on Magdalene cycles in this anthology (including those by
Michelle Erhardt and Joanne Anderson) patronage and other contextual
factors shaped the scenes selected and the details of their representa-
tion. Some of the details of the Saint Magdalene Altarpiece’s iconography,
including the emphasis on the ecclesiastical garments, along with the
themes of its individual scenes, imply that Tiefenbronn’s neighbor, the
prominent Hirsau cloister, played a role in its creation. Supporting ear-
lier attempts to link Hirsau and the Saint Magdalene Altarpiece, establish-
ing their relationship through iconography presents new possibilities for
interpreting and understanding its imagery and meaning.
In the earlier literature on the Saint Magdalene Altarpiece, scholars
acknowledged the possibility that the Hirsau cloister was involved in its
creation. Hans Rott identified one of the coat of arms on the predella as
belonging to Hirsau’s abbot at the time the Saint Magdalene Altarpiece
was created, Wolfram Maiser von Berg (1428–1460).52 While more recent
evidence demonstrated that the coat of arms were not his, it is significant
that they likely belonged to one of his family members, Agnes Maiser von
51 For illustrations of these, see Körkel-Hinkforth, Die Parabel von den klugen und
törichten Jungfrauen, 564 and 566.
52 Additionally he identified Maiser von Berg as the altarpiece’s theological advisor.
Rott, “Die Kirche zu Tiefenbronn,” 124–25.
Berg, who was possibly even a sister.53 Not only does it seem likely that
Wolfram would be a theological advisor for a close relative’s altarpiece
there is additional corroborating evidence. Since its inception, the Tiefen-
bronn parish church (now dedicated to Mary Magdalene) was dependent
in some respect on Hirsau. At the time the Saint Magdalene Altarpiece was
created (1432) the church at Tiefenbronn was not an independent parish
church and did not receive its independence until 1455. Until that time
it was a filial chapel to the Hirsau parish church of Saint Agapitus. Even
after Tiefenbronn officially obtained the status of a parish church, Hirsau
retained its rights to patronage. In addition, the abbots of Hirsau were
identified as “Kastvogt” and “Pfleger” of Tiefenbronn.54
Documenting their relationship to their subsidiary church, Hirsau
abbots contributed to the building and decoration of Tiefenbronn.55 The
coat of arms of Maiser von Berg’s successor, Bernhard von Gernsbach, on
the high altar by Hans Schüchlin, is testimony to Hirsau’s patronage and
persistent relationship to the church.56 It is noteworthy that Wolfram was
also known as a patron of the arts. According to the writings of a later
Hirsau abbot, Trithemius, Maiser von Berg, founded many new buildings
at Hirsau and in other locations including a new abbot’s dwelling and per-
mitted the erection of several new altars in the cloister in 1448.57 As an art
patron, he would have been familiar with Magdalene imagery elsewhere.
The careful analysis of the German sources for the scenes on the Saint
Magdalene Altarpiece presupposes that the theological advisor was familiar
with German Magdalene cycles. The knowledge that Maiser von Berg was
a fervent art patron supports that he would have been aware of local and
regional artistic projects. Beyond a general knowledge of contemporary
Magdalene imagery, borrowing from such a specific source as the Saelden
Hort also implicates Maiser von Berg’s involvement in programming the
imagery. Several factors about the Saelden Hort including its origins and
target audience do support that only a person of Maiser von Berg’s eccle-
siastical position and education would have had access to such a text. Not
only did the poem of the Saelden Hort and the surviving illustrated copies
originate in southwest Germany, but it may also be significant that the
53 Haussherr, “ ‘Der Magdalenenaltar’ in Tiefenbronn,” 192.

54 Piccard, Der Magdalenenaltar, 76.
55 Rott, “Die Kirche zu Tiefenbronn,” 124.
56 Rott, Die Kirche zu Tiefenbronn bei Pforzheim, 16.
57 The list included a Sebastian, Christopher, Nicholas, Catherine and Three Kings altar.
None of the artist’s names have been handed down. Rott, “Die Kirche zu Tiefenbronn,” 125.
100 amy m. morris
Karlsruhe version originated in a Benedictine monastery, Saint George’s

near Villingen. While establishing whether or not the Saelden Hort circu-
lated among Benedictines would create a more definitive connection to
Hirsau, it is more than coincidental that one of the only known versions of
the text originated in a Benedictine monastery. Scholars also believe that
the poem originated in an Upper-Rhenish monastery and was written for
a monastic or conventual audience.
The Ecclesiastical Garments and Benedictine Privilege
In iconographical studies of the Saint Magdalene Altarpiece, not only has

scholarship failed to recognize how the incorporation of German sources
supports that Wolfram Maiser von Berg, Abbot of the Hirsau cloister,
devised the iconography they have overlooked another significant fea-
ture of the work, the elaborate vestments worn by the male protagonists.
These garments lend additional support to naming Wolfram Maiser von
Berg as the theological advisor.
In comparing the representation of Magdalene scenes on the Saint
Magdalene Altarpiece with earlier Italian or German examples what stands
out as truly unique is the detailed rendering of the ecclesiastical vestments
worn by the male figures. Lazarus, Maximin, and Cedonius wear Episcopal
garments in the scenes of the Sea Journey and the Arrival. In the Last Com-
munion, Maximin administers communion to the Magdalene wearing the
miter and cope of a bishop. Finally, in the representation of Lazarus on
the interior wing he wears a splendid white cope decorated with motifs of
birds of prey seizing dog-like creatures amidst starburst patterns and vine
work. Although Lazarus and Maximin were generally shown in Episcopal
garments in pan-European Magdalene cycles as a reference to their office,
few examples match Moser’s robes in their level of detail and technique.
Alfred Stange described Lazarus’ cope on the interior wing as one of the
most outstanding painted passages in all of European art at the time.58
Technical studies of the Saint Magdalene Altarpiece revealed that Moser’s
desire to faithfully reproduce the look of ecclesiastical vestments involved
a unique and costly method for creating the brocaded fabric.
The full meaning of the artist’s exorbitant attention to detail and pains-
taking execution are only revealed when we realize that of the various
58 Alfred Stange, Sudwestdeutschland in der Zeit von 1400 bis 1450 (Berlin, 1951), 96.
religious orders only Benedictine abbots possessed the special privilege

to wear pontifical garments. Given this privilege, it is not surprising that
among the objects most frequently commissioned by Benedictine abbots
were ecclesiastical vestments. Because of the uniqueness of their privilege,
wearing Episcopal garb became a special sign of status for Benedictine
abbots. In his study of Benedictine patronage in England, Julian Luxford
described Episcopal vestments and insignia as “a particular point of pres-
tige and no superior would wish to be seen by his peers in anything less
than pristine garb.”59
It is reasonable to assume that the Abbot Wolfram Maiser von Berg
requested that Lucas Moser, the artist of the Saint Magdalene Altarpiece,
pay special attention to the ecclesiastical vestments worn by Lazarus,
Maximin, and Cedonius. That Hirsau abbots took pride in their privilege
to wear pontificalia is evident in a surviving Hirsau tomb of the Abbot
Johannes II. Hansmann (1503–1524). Similar to the garments worn by the
male figures on the Saint Magdalene Altarpiece, the Abbot appears in his
effigy wearing an elaborate cope, miter and gloves, and even carries a
crosier.60
Mary Magdalene and the Monastic Ideal
Reinforcing the preceding observation that the programmer of the altar-

piece was affiliated with a monastic community are the scenes portrayed
on the Saint Magdalene Altarpiece. Demonstrated in the following para-
graphs, the specific episodes from the Magdalene’s life depicted on the
altarpiece place a strong emphasis on monastic values. While it is difficult
to establish the particularly Benedictine nature of the scenes, since the
Magdalene iconography that developed in Germany was largely derived
from Italian Mendicant models, acknowledgment of their monastic flavor,
nonetheless, provides more evidence that it was a member of a monas-
tic community that devised the iconography of the Saint Magdalene
Altarpiece.61
59 The Art and Architecture of English Benedictine Monasteries, 1300–1540: a Patronage

History (Woodbridge: Boydell Press, 2005).
60 Otto Teschauer, Kloster Hirsau: Ein Kurzführer (Calw: Calwer Druckzentrum, 1991), 30.
61 Among the recent investigations of the relationship between Mary Magdalene and
religious orders beyond the mendicants is Susie Nash, “Clas Sluter’s ‘Well of Moses’ for
the Chartreuse de Champmol Reconsidered: Part III Burlington Magazine (Nov. 2008):
724–41.
102 amy m. morris
It has been demonstrated in recent literature on Mary Magdalene that

certain themes from her life were popularized in a monastic context. In
particular, Katherine Jansen has identified some of these in her study of
recurring themes from Mary Magdalene’s life used in medieval sermons.62
These themes, popularized in preaching, were reinforced in visual repre-
sentations of her life. The scenes of the Saint Magdalene Altarpiece corre-
spond to the monastic emphasis on penance, preaching, and Eucharistic
devotion.
In the example of the Anointing, the widespread popularity of the scene
as the starting point of pictorial cycles has been attributed to its connec-
tion to and promotion of penance. Although the choice of the Anointing
as the initial scene for this cycle followed iconographic tradition, the sig-
nificance of it undoubtedly played a part.63 In medieval sermons, Mary
Magdalene was put forth as an exemplar of perfect penitence, because
she had fulfilled the four stages of penitential obligation: contrition, con-
fession, satisfaction and absolution.64 In part, the emphasis on penance
in medieval sermons resulted from its institutionalization.65 In 1215 the
Fourth Lateran Council decreed that in order to participate in Holy Com-
munion, every member of the Church had to make annual confession
of their sins.66 For the public, the example of the penitent Magdalene
became a persuasive symbol, because she was a sinner who transformed
herself into a saint.
Mary Magdalene was not only upheld as a model for penance but she
was also extolled for her preaching. Mary Magdalene’s role as apostolorum
apostola (apostle to the apostles) became another popular theme in medi-
eval sermons as well as visual imagery. Initially the title of apostolorum
apostola applied to Mary Magdalene’s role as the person to deliver the
news of Christ’s Resurrection to the apostles.67 Eventually, however, this
62 Katherine Ludwig Jansen, The Making of the Magdalene: Preaching and Popular Devo-
tion in the Later Middle Ages (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 2000).
63 In Zeller’s discussion on the theme in Italian art he analyzed the popularity of the
theme in connection with the ecclesiastical/political events related to the transfer of Mary
Magdalene’s cult from Vézelay and Provence to Italy. See, 54–72. He also pointed out that
most of the depictions of the scene were located in mendicant churches of the angenvin-
guelph oriented cities. Zeller, Die Salbung, 90.
64 Jansen, Making of the Magdalen, 204. For more information as to how the Magdalene
fulfilled each of the requirements of penance, see Jansen, chapter 7.
65 Jansen, Making of the Magdalen, 200.
67 Katherine Ludwig Jansen, “Maria Magdalena: Apostolorum Apostola,” in Women
Preachers and Prophets, ed. Beverly Mayne Kienzle and Pamela J. Walker (Berkeley: Uni-
versity of California Press, 1998), 57.
title came to encompass not only her role as herald of Christ’s Resurrec-
tion, but also her mission in France, where her preaching led to the con-
version of pagan Gaul.68 Mary Magdalene’s designation as apostolorum
apostola was reinforced not only in medieval preaching and visual imagery
but also in the liturgy, sacred drama and devotional literature.69 Directly
inspiring the visual imagery, medieval sermons praised her noble work in
Gaul. According to an anonymous Franciscan, the men and women there
were converted thanks to her preaching.70
Taken together the scenes of Sea Journey and the Arrival represent Mary
Magdalene’s Apostolate in France. While the Saint Magdalene Altarpiece
portrays her appearance to the rulers instead of the more popular episode
of her preaching to the public, it undoubtedly reflects her role as preacher.
In narratives of her missionary activities in France, the conversion of the
rulers was considered the necessary first step in this mission. A Franciscan
preacher, Franciscus of Meryonis, narrated how the saint disseminated
the seed of the Word and how, having converted the prince and his wife,
she then converted almost all of Provence to the faith of Christ.71
Similar to the scene of the Anointing, that of the Last Communion of
Mary Magdalene served to promote the sacraments. The Fourth Lateran
Council, which had made the confession of sin obligatory, also made the
reception of the Holy Eucharist a requirement for all church members at
least annually at Easter. As a result of the emphasis on the reception of
the sacraments, Mary Magdalene’s Last Communion became a common
theme not only in sermons but also in medieval imagery.72 “Preachers,
hagiographers, and artists collaborated on making her a figurehead for
Eucharistic devotion.”73
The emphasis on monastic values also extends into the predella rep-
resentation of the Wise and Foolish Virgins. In answering the question
why the Wise and Foolish Virgins were included in a Magdalene cycle it
is also important to consider medieval monastic sermons, where Mary
Magdalene was upheld as a Virgin. According to Francois de Meyronnes,
68 Jansen, “Maria Magdalena: Apostolorum Apostola,” 57–8.

69 Jansen, “Maria Magdalena: Apostolorum Apostola,” 75–77.
70 Jansen, “Maria Magdalena: Apostolorum Apostola,” 72.
71 Jansen, “Maria Magdalena: Apostolorum Apostola,” 72.
72 For more information on the relationship between the Mass and altarpiece imagery,
see Barbara Lane, The Altar and the Altarpiece: Sacramental Themes in Early Netherlandish
Painting (New York: Harper & Row, 1984).
73 As a model for the sacrament she became one of the saints most frequently repre-
sented on Eucharistic tabernacles. Jansen, Making of the Magdalen, 222.
104 amy m. morris
it was possible for the Magdalene to receive the quadruple crown the third
tier of which was symbolic of virginity. He stated “the third is the floral
crown, which is given to virgins, not because she was a virgin but after her
conversion she maintained the highest purity of body and mind.”74
Conclusion
In the consideration of Mary Magdalene as the subject for a side altar at

Tiefenbronn in Germany earlier scholarship mistakenly turned to France.
This essay emphasized not only the insubstantial nature of this assumption,
but also the widespread popularity of Mary Magdalene in Germany, and
specifically at Tiefenbronn. Along with the strength of Mary Magdalene’s
cult in Germany, the iconography of the Saint Magdalene Altarpiece,
entrenched in German sources, strengthened the painting’s relationship
to the region in which it was created. Instead of looking to foreign sources,
the focus on regional influences also provides a new understanding of how
the imagery of the Saint Magdalene Altarpiece was shaped by its context.
A preliminary reflection on the theological advisor suggests that it was
the Abbot of the nearby Hirsau monastery, who devised the iconographic
program for the Saint Magdalene Altarpiece. This is supported not only by
the monastic character of the imagery and its sources but also in Tiefen-
bronn’s official relationship to Hirsau and Abbot Wolfram’s familial ties
to the altarpiece’s owner.

Part Two

Chapter Four
THE PRINTED PENITENT:

MAGDALENE IMAGERY AND PROSTITUTION REFORM
IN EARLY MODERN ITALIAN CHAPBOOKS AND BROADSHEETS
Rachel Geschwind
Cast as Luke’s anonymous sinner by Gregory the Great in the sixth

century, Mary Magdalene’s role as a repentant sinner has been widely
acknowledged in art historical literature.1 Historians discussing the prolif-
eration of Magdalene images in the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries
attribute this increase to her suitability as a role model for repentance.
This essay elaborates on this notion by connecting the saint with the
more specific concerns of prostitution reform, a correlation that has been
largely overlooked in scholarship. During the early modern era, despite
the long-standing acceptance of prostitution as a “necessary evil” in Euro-
pean history, an outbreak of syphilis, attacks by Protestant Reformers, and
threats to moral order in the early modern era, caused reformers to initi-
ate a campaign to end legalized prostitution. When multiple legislative
efforts failed to eliminate the problem, social and religious reformers redi-
rected their campaign to the spiritual conversion of prostitutes through
the widespread propagation of Magdalene imagery.
1 Susan Haskins first published a thorough investigation of the figure of Mary Magdalene
in 1993, providing an exhaustive study of the saint, with particular emphasis placed upon
the complex understanding of the Magdalene in the Gospel accounts. Haskins surveyed
the multiple adoptions of the Magdalene for numerous purposes, including that of a repen-
tant prostitute. See Susan Haskins, Mary Magdalen: Myth and Metaphor (New York: Riv-
erhead Books, 1993); Christopher L.C.E. Witcombe, “The Chapel of the Courtesan and the
Quarrel of the Magdalens,” Art Bulletin 84/2 (June 2002): 273–92; Craig Harbison, “Lucas
van Leyden, the Magdalen and the Problem of Secularization in Early Sixteenth Century
Northern Art,” Oud Holland 98 (1984): 122–23; Pamela Askew, “Casa Pia: The Magdalen,”
in Caravaggio’s ‘Death of the Virgin.’ (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1990), 84–183;
Lucia Ferrante “Honor Regained: Women in the Casa del Soccorso di San Paolo in Six-
teenth-Century Bologna,” in Sex and Gender in Historical Perspective, edited by E. Muir and
G. Ruggiero (Baltimore: Johns Hopkins University Press, 1990): 46–72; Ruth Mazo Karras,
“Holy Harlots: Prostitute Saints in Medieval Legend,” Journal Of The History of Sexuality 1/1
(July 1990): 3–32, etc.
108 rachel geschwind
Linked to sins of a sexual nature, the Magdalene served as a role model

for prostitution reformers during the early modern era. This essay explores
how a particular popular medium known as chapbooks (stampe popolare
religiosie) frequently drew upon the Magdalene as a subject. Because these
chapbooks were widespread, the images within them reached a much
larger audience than painted or sculpted images of the Magdalene. Widely
circulated and intended for a diverse spectrum of society, chapbooks and
their secular counterpart, moralizing broadsheets, contrast the redeemed
life of the repentant Magdalene with the miserable ends of unrepentant
fallen women.
These popular print forms, specifically chapbooks and broadsheets,
responded to the controversial issue of prostitution, conveying messages
aimed at the conversion of prostitutes. While the message and audience
of these printed forms, which included prostitutes themselves as well as
reformers, were the same, the delivery, particularly in the realm of illus-
trations, was not. Whereas chapbooks displayed a positive role model
for fallen women in the example of the repentant Magdalene, broad-
sheets portrayed the inevitable negative consequences that awaited the
unrepentant prostitute. The novelty of this essay lies in the analysis of
the open market of prints and examines the function of one particular
genre of Magdalene imagery in social history and popular culture, situat-
ing the Magdalene as the exemplar for prostitution reform in the early
modern era.
Prostitution Reform
The increase in the number of images of the ascetic, nude Magdalene in

the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries reflected not only the Counter-
Reformation emphasis on the sacrament of penance, but also paralleled
the preoccupation of converting prostitutes, which was a growing concern
in large Italian cities such as Venice and Rome.2 The fixation on pros-
titution reform that occurred at this time undoubtedly stemmed from
2 For an exhaustive catalog, see Marilyn Mosco, ed. La Maddalen, tra Sacro e Pro-
fano (Milan: Mondatori, 1986). Mosco presented a chronological survey of images of the
Magdalene, an impressive undertaking that attempted to illuminate the variety of iconog-
raphy for the female saint. The various essays (there are thirty in the catalog’s seven parts)
emphasize the dual spiritual and secular role of the Magdalene. However, the authors
neglected to emphasize the numerous Counter-Reformation images of the Conversion of
the Magdalene, which are referenced only under the more ambiguous term “Vanitas.”
the printed penitent 109
the growing number of prostitutes in Italy’s major cities.3 A great deal

of scholarship has focused on why the numbers of prostitutes grew in
this period.4 Undoubtedly one of the most basic factors contributing to
the rise of prostitution in the late fifteenth century was the high ratio of
men to women in large Italian cities. Additionally, in Venice and in Rome,
courtesans were a large draw for tourists. In descriptions of both cities
by foreigners and natives alike, suppositions on the numbers of prosti-
tutes, which included the lower class street prostitutes (meretrici) and the
higher-class courtesan (cortigiana), constituted a literary trope.5
3 Convents dedicated to the spiritual conversion of “fallen women” were built in all
major Italian Renaissance cities and the inhabitants included prostitutes, concubines, and
rape victims. Pope Leo X officially approved the formation of the Casa delle Convertite in
Rome (1520) and the Venetian Convertite began fundraising for their convent in 1530. The
Convertite, serving as early women’s shelters and providing aid to prostitutes, constitutes
a special history in the Catholic reform movement. For more on this, see Sherill Cohen,
The Evolution of Women’s Asylums Since 1500: From Refuges for Ex-Prostitutes to Battered
Women (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1992). The Convertite in Venice and Rome were
largely supported by the Jesuits, who encountered many prostitutes at the Hospital for the
Incurabili in Venice and Rome. The driving force behind their creation was the control of
syphilis. The Jesuits did not found the Convertite in Rome or Venice, but these were some
of the earliest charitable organizations associated with the order. Ignatius Loyola, founder
of the Jesuits, had gathered a small group of like-minded individuals as early as 1534, and
Pope Paul III approved their order in 1540. For a thorough review of the Venetian Conver-
tite, see Laura Jane McGough’s doctoral thesis, “ ‘Raised from the Devils’ Jaws’: A Convent
for Repentant Prostitutes in Venice, 1530–1670,” (PhD diss., Northwestern University, 1997).
For the reception of altarpieces dedicated to the Penitent Magdalene in the Roman Con-
vertite, see Pamela Jones, Altarpieces and their Viewers (Burlington: Ashgate, 2008).
4 In recent years many social historians have attempted to discuss the rise in prostitu-
tion by examining charitable organizations created in the early modern era and designed
to curb the numbers of prostitutes. For an overview of charitable institutions in Venice,
see Bernard Aikema and Dulcia Meijers, Nel regno dei poveri (Milan: Arsenale, 1989) and
Cohen, The Evolution of Women’s Asylums, 1992. Not all former prostitutes and other women
in need were able or willing to enter the Convertite because of financial difficulties and
lifestyle restrictions, and prostitution reformers such as Ignatius Loyola anticipated the
need for additional institutions that were designed to serve as a transitional refuge. The
Casa di Santa Marta in Rome and the Casa del Soccorso in Venice were founded to address
the urgent need for fallen women to find a safe haven and aid in their spiritual conversion
and were only designed to be temporary solutions. Le Zitelle in Venice was created to
house young women who were thought to be in danger of potentially falling into prostitu-
tion. See Monica Chojnacka, “Women, Charity, and Community in Early Modern Venice:
The Casa delle Zitelle,” Renaissance Quarterly 51/1 (Spring 1998): 68–91; McGough, “ ‘Raised
from the Devils’ Jaws,’ ” 133–51; Charles Chauvin, “La maison Sainte-Marthe,” Christus 149
(Jan 1991): 123; Marilyn Dunn, “Nuns as Art Patrons: The Decoration of S. Marta al Collegio
Romano,” The Art Bulletin 70/3 (Sept 1988): 451–77.
5 In Medicean Rome, there were an estimated 750 to 1,000 prostitutes, which demon-
strates that Rome was comparable to Venice in the sex economy. Although twentieth-
century historians are quick to reject the reports of large numbers of meretrici and corti-
giane from contemporary documents as exaggerations, it is believed that the hyperbole
The prostitute in the early modern era was a complex construction,

vacillating between good and bad and crossing class boundaries. Prosti-
tutes were publicly celebrated as beautiful treasures, or alternately, their
blameworthy lives became synonymous with sins of lust, vanity, greed,
and gluttony, among others. The prostitute could hail from and exist
in a range of social classes, from the elite cortigiana, or courtesan, who
mingled with nobility, to the meretrice (common street whores). As the
famous companions of some of the most renowned male figures of the
period, the Renaissance courtesans (cortigiana) were often the subject of
literature and art.6 Courtesans represented a complicated mix of allure
and aloofness to their male clientele and their interchangeability with
noblewomen was tantamount to their success.7
was most likely aimed to censure contemporary female morality in general. It is difficult to
estimate the exact number of prostitutes, regardless of the level of prostitution, as this was
a profession that women often entered and exited in accordance to their economic situ-
ation. Due to a pandemic of poverty in the early sixteenth century, gross overestimations
of prostitute populations probably resulted from the perception that there was a large
influx of prostitutes. For more on contemporary documents on prostitutes in Rome, see
Elizabeth Cohen, “Seen and known: prostitutes in the cityscape of late-sixteenth-century
Rome,” Renaissance Studies 19 (1991): 201–8.
6 Fiammetta was a courtesan and lover of nobleman and cardinal Cesare Borgia (1475–
1507), Masina was a favorite of Pope Julius II prior to his pontificate in 1503, and Imperia
was a companion to Pope Leo X (1475–1521). For more on these courtesans’ biographies
and popular anecdotes, see Georgina Masson, Courtesans of the Renaissance (New York:
St. Martin’s Press, 1972) and Lynne Lawyner, Lives of the Courtesans (New York: Rizzoli,
1989). Private brothels existed alongside city brothels, and in smaller cities, traveling pros-
titutes were allowed to stay in towns for one night a week, which avoided the scandal and
expense of a municipal brothel. Brothels were designed for one particular group of men,
journeymen and apprentices not yet married, and the brothels charged prices that the
average man could afford. Official sanction of these institutions celebrated and encour-
aged youthful male virility, while simultaneously encouraging a delay in marriage until
their vocational training was complete, and the men were able to support a wife and chil-
dren. Brothels, however, became the natural stage for male bravado, despite the double
penalty often incurred for causing a disturbance in the brothel. See Lyndal Roper, The
Holy Household: Women and Morals in Reformation Augsburg (Oxford: Clarendon Press,
1989), 93.
7 In his commentary on Venice, Frenchman Michel de Montaigne complained that
conversation with a courtesan cost as much as the sexual transaction, thus emphasizing
the elite and refined status of the courtesan. See Michel de Montaigne, Journal du voyage
de M. de Montaigne en Italie par la Suisse et l’Allemagne en 1580 et 1581, Paris: Le Jay, 1774.
As intimate companions in conversation, the courtesans were noted for their assistance
in political matters, particularly in the field of espionage and to prevent sodomy, which
was viewed as an act of defiance against the patriarchal state. For an analysis of a courte-
san dialogue, see Janet Levarie Smarr, “Dialogue and Social Conversation,” in Joining the
conversation: dialogues by Renaissance women (Ann Arbor: University of Michigan Press,
2005), 98–129.
While the cortigiana received the most press, in reality, the majority of
prostitutes originated from the lower classes and often began their “pro-
fession” as domestic servants. For numerous women, domestic service was
merely a step on the way to prostitution, as a servant status left young
women in an exposed position, unprotected by male relatives.8 Many
lower class prostitutes are more accurately classified as “semi-wives,”
working for several men part time, offering sex and companionship as
well as washing, mending, and hospitality services.9 Meretrici were also
to be found in public and private brothels, and their services were afford-
able to their target audience of young, unmarried men who were not yet
established in their career and as such considered unfit for marriage.10
The prostitute thus occupied and serviced all levels of social classes and
growing numbers of prostitutes mirrored larger economic concerns in the
early modern era.
The exponential number of prostitutes in Renaissance Italy correlated
with an escalation of poverty, a factor that has been inextricably linked
to the rise in prostitution throughout history. The poverty of women in
the early modern era was connected to a few major factors, the primary
of which was an inflated dowry system that made marriage difficult. As
women belonged to a patriarchal system that dictated their dependence
8 In some instances, women were seduced into prostitution by a male lover, such as in
the case of Pietro Rizo. Pietro lured a young woman named Giacobella to run off with him
to Ferrara after a short affair, where he then put her out as a common prostitute. Other
reported cases involved young girls and married women who were lured from Istria to
Venice: Legislative cases reveal that such seductions were a common method of recruit-
ing women. See Guido Ruggiero, The Boundaries of Eros (Oxford: Oxford University Press,
1985), 41–42. However, like so many professions in the Renaissance, prostitution was also a
family business. In Rome, as a way to combat cycles of prostitution, the institution of San
Caterina ai Funari was dedicted to the female children of prostitutes, for it was commonly
believed that these children would also be raised as prostitutes. Aretino reported that
prostitutes, concerned about who would care and provide for them in their old age and
in ill health, took female infants from orphanages and raised them as whores. See Peter
Partner, Renaissance Rome, 1550–1559 (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1976), 110.
9 Ruggiero, The Boundaries of Eros, 9–15. “Semi-wives” can also be compared to concu-
bines, who engaged in a close, sexual relationship with men, but were not able to marry
for reasons typically related to social class distinctions or because that man was already
married to another woman. See Elizabeth and Thomas Cohen, Daily Life in Renaissance
Italy (Westport: Greenwood Press, 2001), 261.
10 Brothels, however, became the natural stage for male bravado, despite the double
penalty often incurred for causing a disturbance in the brothel. One sixteenth-century
critic of sanctioned brothels, Johannes Brenz, succinctly summarized the growing dissat-
isfaction with the official toleration, stating, “Some say one must have public brothels to
prevent greater evil—but what if these brothels are schools in which one learns more
wickedness than before?” See Roper, The Holy Household, 93, 107.
on men for their general well being, many women turned to prostitution
to acquire dowry funds. The economy of illicit sex paradoxically funded
the culture of licit, marital sex, which constituted the moral ideal of Ital-
ian Renaissance society.11
Culturally the stigma associated with prostitution was invariably linked
to religious beliefs and philosophical assumptions about sexual inter-
course, female virginity, and female adultery: concepts that were not new
to Renaissance Italy. Regardless of the moral offense prostitution caused
theologians and canon lawyers, the prostitution policy adopted during
this time period was that of “practical toleration,” which originated in the
writings of Saint Augustine (354–430). Augustine upheld the legal status
of prostitution under Roman law. Furthermore, he observed that estab-
lished patterns of sexual relationship would be endangered if prostitutes
were not available, considering it better to tolerate prostitution than suf-
fer the consequences.12
Governing policies concerning prostitution can be summarized by
three basic approaches: toleration, institutionalization, and repression.13
Although some religious reformers never ceased to attack the legality of
prostitution, ultimately toleration and institutionalization were found to
be the most effective ways of dealing with this socio-economic and moral
crisis. In an anonymous letter to Pope Pius V in 1566, the author claimed
to represent the Popolo Romano and appealed to the pope’s charity. In
11 Women’s poverty in the early modern era was also linked with the economic down-
turn in textiles, the field that offered the most profitable career choice for lower class
women. In an attempt to curb spending and curtail moral abuses, the governing bodies
of Venice and Rome repeatedly passed sumptuary laws that negatively affected the textile
industry. As certain garments and accessories such as silks and pearls became limited to
Venetian and Roman noblewomen, the production of costly garments greatly decreased,
and the textile industry and its female work force faced an economic depression. Ironi-
cally, the prohibition of these ornately embellished clothes, which was legislated in many
cases to restrain courtesans and control the ostentation of the upper class, created an
economic downturn that led many women to less respectable work. For more on a history
of textiles in the early modern era, see Carole Collier Frick, Dressing Renaissance Florence:
Families, Fortunes, and Fine Dressing (Baltimore: Johns Hopkins Press, 2002).
12 Secular and religious authorities throughout the early modern era maintained that
if prostitutes were not available, honest women would be in danger of sexual assault or
claimed that men would resort to sodomy with other men. For more on Augustine, see
Augustine, De ordine, 2.4 in J.P. Migne, ed., Patrologiae cursus completus . . . series Latina,
221 Vols. (Paris: Garnier, 1844–64), 32: 1000.
13 Leah Lydia Otis, Prostitution in Medieval Society (Chicago: University of Chicago Press,
1985), 9. See also James Brundage, Sex, Law, and Marriage in the Middle Ages (Aldershot:
Ashgate, 1993), 830. For more on these views in the sixteenth century, see Joost de Dam-
houder, Subhaustationum compendiosa exegesis, c. 5, in Benvenuto Staccha, De mercatura
decisions et tractatus varii (Lyons, 1610; reprint, Turin: Bottega d’Erasmo, 1971), 763.
an attempt to persuade the pope to retain the Church’s legal tolerance of

prostitutes, the author emphasized the dependence of Roman merchants
and landlords on prostitutes, and argued that like the acceptance of Jews,
these individuals should be allowed to coexist for the unique opportu-
nity of spiritual conversion.14 Due to a lack of concrete legal policy and
enforcement, prostitution reformers focused their efforts on the spiritual
conversion of prostitutes, in part, through the paradigm of the Magdalene.
Printed works were tantamount to this endeavor.
Printed Works and Public Opinions
Images of the penitent Magdalene in the sixteenth and seventeenth cen-

turies were a pervasive commodity accessible in the open art market of
prints. The early modern period represents a distinctive era in which the
role of printed works began to substantially influence public opinion and
societal values. Printmaking, particularly in the forms of narrative chap-
books and moralizing broadsheets, emerged as the foremost method of
self-fashioning and self-representation.15 As the literacy rate increased,
the rise in production of religious chapbooks was linked to the growing
belief in literacy as a step toward salvation.16 Although Catholic authori-
ties became more ambivalent about printing after the Lutheran revolt,
14 Lettera a Papa Pio Quinto, C3V. See Tessa Storey, Carnal Commerce in Counter-
Reformation Rome (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2008), 85. For more on the
toleration of Jews in Christian Italy, see Laurie Nussdorfer, “The Politics of Space in Early
Modern Rome,” Memoirs of the American Academy in Rome 42 (1997): 161–86. Members of
the Jewish community were also required to attend conversion sermons and as early as
1572, Gregory XIII issued an ordinance requiring Jewish attendance to a minimum of one
conversion sermon per week and demanded an audience of one hundred men and fifty
women. The number was later raised to a total audience of three hundred Jews. See Salo
Wittmayer Baron, A Social and Religious History of the Jews: Late Middle Ages and the era
of European Expansion, 1200–1650 (New York: Columbia Press, 1970).
15 For more on this, see Sara F. Matthews Grieco, “Pedagogical Prints: Moralizing Broad-
sheets and Wayward Women in Counter Reformation Italy,” in Picturing Women in Renais-
sance and Baroque Italy, edited by G.A. Johnson and S.F.M. Grieco (Cambridge: Cambridge
University Press, 1997), 61–87.
16 Peter Burke, Popular Culture in Early Modern Europe (Burlington: Ashgate, 1999), 50,
252. The medium of printmaking as a holy means for the propagation of religious instruc-
tion was widely asserted from its conception. French humanist writer Francois Rabelais
(1494–1553) attributed the invention of printing to divine inspiration, and Cardinal Nicho-
las of Cusa (1401–64), reported in 1468 that he was pleased to see haec sancta ars (this
divine art), which had been born in his native Germany, was now being introduced into
Italy. See Elizabeth L. Eisenstein, Printing as Divine Art: Celebrating Western Technology in
the Age of the Hand Press (Oberlin: Oberlin College, 1996), 1–2.
printing was still considered holy because it was recognized as the art that
preserved all other arts.17 Printing was described by prelates and the patri-
cian elite as both a “divine art” and a “poor man’s friend,”18 and served to
edify all stratum of society.
In the Renaissance publishing industry, the combination of size, type,
and page layout offered visual signs informing the reader of the content
before she/he began to read. As any customer in the twenty-first century
could attest, book covers became a primary way to differentiate a book’s
content, signifying varying subject matters, purposes, and readerships.
Cover illustrations provide the most obvious clue to identifying the sub-
ject matter and purpose of a book; for example, a large, folio-sized Latin
volume printed in two columns in gothic type clearly designated a work of
theology or law.19 Chapbooks share a similar quality with popular Renais-
sance books, in that both were directed toward a common readership
and designed with a simple woodcut as a cover illustration.20 Although
chapbooks have been largely overlooked in print scholarship due to their
crude nature, this print form reflects the collective conscious of the early
modern public.
Religious Chapbooks
At a time when printmaking techniques were becoming increasingly

sophisticated and the appreciation of draftsmanship came to be the mea-
sure of artistic ingenuity in early modern European art,21 the chapbook
emerged as the most widely accessible print form. The chapbook was a
popular pamphlet, which was available on city streets, in piazzas, and
in the countryside, and was sold by ballad singers and itinerant vendors
called storiari.22 Easily portable, chapbooks were inexpensive, brief, and
17 Eisenstein, Printing as Divine Art, 9.

18 Elizabeth L. Eisenstein, The Printing Revolution in Early Modern Europe (Cambridge:
Cambridge University Press, 1983), 31.
19 Paul F. Grendler, “Form and Function in Italian Renaissance Popular Books,” Renais-
sance Quarterly 46/3 (Autumn 1993): 451–52. The major difference between a chapbook
and a popular book was length: chapbooks averaged eight to ten pages.
20 Grendler, “Form and Function,” 470.
21 David Landau and Peter Parshall, The Renaissance Print 1470–1550 (New Haven: Yale
22 For a discussion of chapbook vendors, see Francesco Barberi, Il libro Italiano del
Seicento, (Rome: Gela, 1985), 16 and Francesco Barberi, Libri e stampatori nella Roma dei
papi, (Rome: Istituto dei Studi Romani, 1965), 19.
usually contained only a few illustrations. These small novellas were often
written in ottava rima, the Italian rhyming stanza that was developed for
long poems on heroic themes as well as for parodies or popular mock-
heroic works. The secular and religious-themed chapbooks originated in
oral culture and were created in the favored octavo format, a book size
designed using three standard sheets of paper folded to three leaves, or
sixteen pages, for a total of forty-eight pages.23
In addition to the literate consumer, the text of the chapbook implies
the existence of an audience beyond a specific reader. Evidence for a ver-
bal tradition associated with this print form is derived from the opening
text printed in many chapbooks: “Listen and you shall hear.”24 A further
unknown number of audience members constitute a greater public for the
chapbook beyond a singular literate consumer, which is supported by the
marketing strategy of the chapbooks’ peddlers. As a part of their adver-
tising methods, vendors and ballad singers in taverns and markets, and
minstrels in the households of nobility, sang ballads and verses associated
with the chapbooks. Memorization of the songs and verses performed
helped educate the illiterate audience members to the didactic nature of
the printed chapbooks, which were designed with a moral.25 Often sold
at fairs, chapbooks averaged one to two sous apiece, about the price of a
pound of bread, making them affordable for the average person.26
Despite chapbooks’ mass popularity and consumption by the Italian
early modern public, few works survive to this day. Religious chapbooks
were generally composed of low quality paper and inks, which made them
particularly susceptible to deterioration due to the fragility of the paper,
damage from sunlight, and the speed with which their topical significance
23 Pamela Jones, “Female Saints in Early Modern Italian Chapbooks, ca. 1570–1670:
St. Catherine of Alexandria and St. Catherine of Siena,” in From Rome to Eternity, edited
by Pamela Jones and Thomas Worcester (Leiden: Brill Press, 2002), 89–90. Venetian
printmaker Aldus Manutius in 1501 is credited with the invention of the octavo format,
considered the early paperback, when Manutius produced Virgil’s Opera in order to cre-
ate portable reading for his upper class clientele. For more on Manutius and his Aldine
Press, see Martin Davies, Aldus Manutius: printer and publisher of the Venetian Renaissance
(Tempe: Arizona Center for Medieval and Renaissance Studies, 1999).
24 Tomasso Filippini’s 1618 La Historia Di Susanna Et De Due Vecchi begins, “Chi si dil-
etta nuove cose udire stia con la mente al mio parlar’ attento . . .” See Lorenzo Baldacchini,
Bibliografia della stampe popolari religiose del XVI–XVII Secolo (Florence: L.S. Olschki,
1980), cat. no. 169.
25 Tessa Watt, Cheap Print and Popular Piety 1550–1640 (Cambridge: Cambridge Univer-
sity Press, 1991), 1–5.
26 Burke, Popular Culture, 50.
lost the interest of its audience.27 Therefore, the remaining examples of

chapbooks, which in many cases made their way accidentally into private
collections due to curiosity on the part of the collectors,28 are a select
microcosm of the overall subject matter printed. Of the dozen or so pam-
phlets known, all of the chapbooks represented are different editions,
which is supporting evidence of the popularity they enjoyed.29
In her classification of the subject matter of chapbooks between 1570
and 1670, Pamela Jones discovered two categories of female saints who
were frequently represented in text and illustration: biblical and early
Christian saints. Of the 103 chapbooks surveyed in Jones’s study, twenty
of these were dedicated to the Magdalene, making her the most popu-
lar female saint found in this genre of print. The Magdalene chapbooks
are devoted to the theme of the Conversion of the Magdalene. Surviv-
ing in multiple editions, they were published in various cities between
1570 and 1620 by rival authors Marco Rossiglio and Francesco Zucchetti.30
Chapbooks dedicated to the Conversion of the Magdalene were intended
27 Keith Moxey, Peasants, Warriors, and Wives: Popular Imagery during the Reformation
(Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1989), 22.
28 Robert W. Scribner, For the Sake of Simple Folk (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1994), 8.
29 Hilde Kurz, “Italian Models of Hogarth’s Picture Stories,” Journal of the Warburg and
Courtauld Institutes 15: 3/4 (1952), 141. The largest collection of Italian moralizing broad-
sheets, particularly those dedicated to the theme of prostitution, are located in the Ber-
tarelli Collection in Milan at the Castello Sforzesco. In American collections, the University
of Texas Academic Center in Austin and the New York Public Library possess a small
but choice collection of European broadsheets. See David Kunzle’s Appendix in The Early
Comic Strip (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1973) and Achille Bertarelli, L’imagerie
populaire italienne (Paris: Editions Duchartre & Van Buggenhoudt, 1929).
30 In Lorenzo Baldacchini’s groundbreaking categorization of Italian chapbooks, the
author grouped 412 religious chapbooks, the majority of which are located at the Biblioteca
Vaticano. These chapbooks can be divided into several categories: ninety-six prayers in
verse (mainly dedicated to saints); sixty-seven spiritual exercises and instructions in prose
and verse; fifty-two hagiographical legends in verse; twenty-four works on the life of Christ;
twenty-three on the Virgin Mary; nineteen prayers in prose (such as the prayers of Carlo
Borromeo); seventeen hagiographical legends in prose; thirteen miracles or prophesies;
ten works on relics; nine on death; and five on miscellaneous topics such as the Mass. See
Baldacchini, Bibliografia della stampe popolari religiose, 1980. Jones has commented that
few of these female saints depicted in her grouping of chapbooks were from the medieval
period, and none derived from the fifteenth through the seventeenth centuries. See Jones,
“Female Saints in Early Modern Chapbooks,” 94–96. For an overview of chapbooks, see
Anne Schutte, Printed Italian Vernacular Religious Books, 1465–1550; A Finding List (Geneva:
Droz, 1983). Jones’ groupings of Italian chapbooks derive from the Biblioteca Trivulziana
(Milan), with additional works located in the Biblioteca Vaticano, Biblioteca Alessandrina
(Rome), and Biblioteca Estense (Modena). Unfortunately, additional archival studies are
necessary to determine the survival rates of chapbooks, as many are bound in volumes and
not catalogued. I am grateful to Dr. Pamela Jones for her assistance in this matter.
to serve as a positive role model for the wayward woman, which was
echoed in popular Lenten sermons and mandatory conversion sermons
for prostitutes.31
The title page to Marco Rossiglio’s 1611 chapbook dedicated to the Con-
version of the Magdalene features a small woodcut of the female saint as
a full-length nude, modestly covered by her knee-length hair and holding
her left hand to her breast (fig. 4.1).32 The saint is young and idealized and
with her right hand she holds the ointment jar. This depiction adheres
to the sixteenth-century trend of fashioning the Magdalene as youthful
nude, new to her hermetic life, and resembles contemporary images such
as Titian’s enduring image of the half-length Penitent Magdalene (fig. 4.2).33
In Titian’s numerous representations of the penitent Magdalene, the saint
is portrayed in half-length, with her young, fleshy, arms clasping her body
in the pose of modesty established in ancient statues of the Venus Pudica,
a depiction that aligned the saint with her legendary sexual past.34
31 Just as today, Lenten sermons were dedicated to the Gospel reading. The thirty-
seventh day of Lent focused on Christ in the House of the Pharisee, which is the sev-
enth chapter of Luke, and features the Magdalene’s act of conversion as she tends to
Christ’s feet. In sermons delivered at the Convertite in Rome, Francesco Panigarola states,
“Women, when will you ever come to the house of the Pharisee? Do you know what house
it is? It is the Monastery of the Holy Convertite; here, here is Christ, here he resides, here
he rests. In this house, I exhort you to follow the Magdalene!” Francesco Panigarola, Nuovo
Volume di Prediche Quadragesimali . . . Predicate in Roma . . . Milan, 1608, p. 398. See Jones,
Altarpieces and their Viewers, 4.
32 Although Rossiglio’s frontispiece is unique in the standing pose of the Magdalene,
it is visually representative of chapbooks dedicated to the subject of the Conversion of
the Magdalene. Zucchetti’s frontispiece features a scene of Noli me Tangere, while other
anonymous versions follow the conventions of sixteenth century Italian paintings of the
Penitent Magdalene in the Wilderness, such as Titian’s many versions.
33 The Northern half-length Magdalene tradition was absorbed in Northern Italy
through the pupils of Leonardo da Vinci, Giampetrino and Bernardo Luini, and in Venice
by Giorgione, Titian, and Palma Vecchio. It has been hypothesized by Wilhelm von Bode
that the “feminine half-length” (weibliche Halbfigurenbild) was expressive of an ideal of
femininity invented by Leonardo and taken up by his students in Milan. See Anne Chris-
tine Junkerman, “Bellissima donna: an interdisciplinary study of Venetian sensuous half-
length images of the early sixteenth century,” (PhD diss., University of California, Berkeley,
1988) 62. For the original German article, see Wilhelm Bode, “Leonardo und das weibliche
Halbfigurenbild des italienischen Renaissance,” Jahrbuch der köinglich preussischen Kunst-
sammlungen 35 (1919): 61–74.
34 Earlier authors such as Jacob Burckhardt, J.A. Crowe and G.B. Cavalcaselle, and Hans
Tietze had previously concluded that Titian’s work was an erotic picture devoid of reli-
gious connotations. See Burckhardt, Der Cicerone (Basel: B. Schwabe, 1955), 917; Crowe and
Cavalcaselle, The Life and Times of Titian (London: J. Murray, 1881), i, 350; Tietze, Tizian.
Leben und Werk (Vienna: Phaidon-Verlag, 1936), 159. For a succinct summary of these opin-
ions, see Monika Ingenhoff-Danhäuser, Maria Magdalena, Helige und Sünderin in der ita-
lienischen Renaissance (Tübingen: E. Wasmuth, 1984), 30.
Fig. 4.1. Anonymous artist, titlepage to Marco Rossiglioʼs La Conversione di Santa

Maria Madalena, 1611, woodcut. Biblioteca Vaticano, Vatican City. Photo: Biblio-
teca Vaticano.
Fig. 4.2. Titian, Penitent Magdalene, c. 1560s, oil on canvas. Ambrosiana, Milan.

Photo: Art Resource, NY.
Emulating the prevailing style in sixteenth-century devotional half-

length paintings, Rossiglio’s Conversion of the Magdalene was the popular
retelling of the female saint’s conversion from a life of sin, namely prosti-
tution, and included several aspects of her life from legend. The scarcity
of identifying iconography of the Magdalene in the woodcut explains the
artist’s need to identify the saint by an inscription above her head, which
is slightly obscured by her halo. Although the artist placed the stand-
ing Magdalene between two crudely rendered columns, as if to imply a
sculptural niche, he suggested her hermetic penitential surroundings by
the organic column base sitting on an uneven terrain with small tufts
of grass.
By imbuing the Magdalene with characteristics of Venus, particularly in
her pose and niche-like setting, in the Conversion of the Magdalene, Ros-
siglio demonstrated the dual role of the saint as both carnal and divine.
Additionally, her conversion from a life of prostitution, which is discussed
in the chapbook’s text, marked her triumph over the flesh. For the popular
audience of the print, the parallel of the Magdalene with Venus would
have provided an important link to courtesans, who represented a car-
nal Venus. Devotees of the Magdalene and proponents of courtesans
alike employed the literary trope of Venus symbolism, and the message
reinforced by the title illustration was that of positive reinforcement for
penitence.35
The role of the Magdalene as a celestial Venus arose in the sixteenth
and seventeenth centuries when a wealth of literature was devoted
to her. Rossiglio’s adaptation of the pose of the classical Venus pudica
can be related to the Platonic interpretation of the modest Venus, who
was described as expressing the dual nature of love both sensuous and
chaste.36 The literary association with the Magdalene and Venus was
35 For more on the Magdalene’s association with the Venus, see Marjorie Malvern,
Venus in Sackcloth (Carbondale: Southern Illinois University Press, 1975).
36 Transmutation of the Magdalene into a Venus figure was initiated in Italy in the
first decades of the sixteenth century and related to theories of love and beauty discussed
by humanist Marsilio Ficino (1433–99) at the villa of Careggi outside of Florence. Ficino,
who famously coined the expression “Platonic love,” was patronized by Cosimo I de’
Medici, and the definition of divine love was the cornerstone of Ficino’s philosophy. The
Magdalene’s nakedness and beauty were attributes she shared with Venus, and the grow-
ing cult of the Magdalene’s penitential nudity coincided with the Renaissance rebirth of
the classical female nude, which was dominated by statues of Venus. See Haskins, Mary
Magdalen, 232–39. The Venus pudica type derives etymologically from the word pudenda,
a word that means both shame and genitalia, and the meaning was transferred easily into
medieval Christian art when the Venus pudica was used as model for Eve.
further exemplified in art in the interchangeability of the two women. A

Dutch Catholic writer praised a painting by Govert Flinck, who converted
an image of Venus into a Magdalene, commending the artist who could
“convert the unchaste by means of their brush.”37 In his defense of wom-
en’s ability to achieve divine love, Pope Clement VII provided the specific
example of the Magdalene, stating, “You must remember also that [she]
was forgiven many sins because she loved much, and that she, perhaps
in no less grace than Saint Paul, was many time rapt to the third heaven
by angelic love.”38 The characterization of the saint in Rossiglio’s Conver-
sion of the Magdalene as a personification of Celestial Love represents a
desire for beauty that surpasses earthly reality and longs for the divine, as
opposed to a terrestrial love that yearns for beauty found in the flesh and
the material world.39
Naturally, the association of the Magdalene with the heavenly Venus
is paralleled by the link of the courtesan to Venus, who, as the goddess
of love, was the deity possessing the power of all sexual desire.40 When
Raphael painted the famous courtesan Imperia (c. 1480/5–1512) as Venus
on the façade of her home, she defined herself as the icon of love, capable
of bestowing pleasure and splendor as a deity among mortals.41 In 1608,
Englishman Thomas Coryat, upon entering Venice, famed for possessing
37 See Albert Blankert, Gods, Saints and Heroes (Washington: National Gallery of Art,
1980). It is also interesting to note that Titian’s Pitti Magdalene resembles the composition
of his Venus Anadyomene (c. 1520, National Gallery of Edinburgh, Scotland). The symbolic
significance of nudity as an emblem for Truth and Divine or Celestial Love is illustrated
in Titian’s Sacred and Profane Love (1513–14, Borghese Gallery, Rome), also interpreted as
Twin Venuses. The nude figure of Celestial Love lifts a flaming vase upward, which corre-
sponds to Ripa’s Felicità Eterna. The similarities between Titian’s figure and Ripa’s descrip-
tion are too close to be coincidental—in fact, it has been proposed that Ripa based his
description off Titian’s picture. For more on this, see G. de Tervarent, “Les deux Amours; A
propos d’un tableau du Titien à la Galerie Borghèse à Rome,” Bulletin de l’Institut Historique
Belge de Rome 35 (1963): 121ff.
38 Haskins, Mary Magdalen, 234–35.
39 Although it is inconclusive whether or not the popolani would have understood the
full complexity of the Neoplatonic interpretation of the Magdalene as Venus, it is tenable
that they would have recognized the fundamental symbolism.
40 Renaissance courtesans often promoted themselves using the trope of ancient god-
desses, namely Venus. For more on this, see Susan Griffin, The Book of Courtesans: A Cata-
logue of Their Virtues (New York: Random House, 2002). Griffin reiterates the belief that
due to the prevalent symbolism, courtesans often posed for portraits of goddesses by art-
ists such as Titian, Raphael, and Veronese. For more on the Magdalene as the “Heavenly
Venus,” see Michelle Lambert-Monteleon, “Heavenly Venus: Mary Magdalene in Renais-
sance Noli Me Tangere images,” (MA Thesis, University of South Florida, 2004).
41 Pio Pecchai, Donne del Rinascimento in Roma: Imperia (Padua: CEDAM, 1958), 23.
the most fabled courtesans, wrote of entering the “Paradise of Venus.”42 In

Venice, the image of Venus was often used as an allegory for the city, such
as in Veronese’s Apotheosis of Venice (1579) in the Ducal Palace. Critics and
admirers of the city alike employed this mythical characterization of the
city, as well as that of Venetian courtesans, who came to represent the city
as both a powerful divine deity and a licentious and profane being.43 The
visual and literary association of the Magdalene and Renaissance courte-
sans with Venus conferred on them the power of beauty and love, powers
that were respectively yielded for divine or carnal purposes.
In the text of the 1611 chapbook, the author states that the Magdalene
was a member of a royal family from Jerusalem, and that when her parents
died, she and her siblings, Martha and Lazarus, inherited a fortune. The
Magdalene is characterized as lascivious and proud, valuing beauty above
all, and causing men to lust after her. The Magdalene’s virtuous sister Mar-
tha, however, scolds her sister for her blindness, and takes Magdalene to
hear Christ preach, at which point she is finally converted.44 Although
Christ is the ultimate savior, the story stresses the significant role of Mar-
tha in the conversion of the Magdalene, which had great popular appeal
for its audience, who could identify with the virtuous Martha. Rossiglio’s
chapbook focuses primarily on Martha’s efforts in the Magdalene’s con-
version, and the figure of Martha can be interpreted as the intercessor and
role model for the primary audience of the chapbook, the popolani.45
Rossiglio’s chapbook was printed in Treviso, and most likely circulated
for a wide audience in Venice and Rome and their smaller surrounding
cities. The title page of the chapbook states it had appeared earlier in
42 From Thomas Coryat’s Crudities, as cited in Fernando Henrique, “The Century of

the Courtesan,” from Prostitution in Europe and the Americas (New York: Citadel Press,
1965), 77–82. In his bawdy sonnets accompanying Marcantonio Raimondi’s erotic engrav-
ings I Modi (c. 1524), Pietro Aretino cast Roman courtesan Angela Greca in the role of
Venus. In Aretino’s imagination, Angela places herself in the guise of Venus and calls to
her lover Ercole Rangone, “Mars, most damned sluggard, a woman can’t bear up under-
neath like this. And you can’t make love to Venus blindly, with a lot of haste and little
discernment.” See Bette Talvacchia, Taking Positions: On the Erotic in Renaissance Cul-
ture (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1999), 91–92. Talvacchia notes the particular
humorous casting of Rangone as Mars, the god of war, as Rangone was a man of arms.
43 For more on Venice and courtesans representing the city, see David Rosand, Myths of
Venice: the figuration of a state (Chapel Hill, University of North Carolina, 2001).
44 Summarized in English by Franco Mormando, “Teaching the Faithful to Fly”, in
Saints and Sinners: Caravaggio and the Baroque Image, edited by F. Mormando (Chicago:
University of Chicago Press, 1999) 38.
45 For more on the iconography of Martha in relationship to the Magdalene, see
Michelle Erhardt’s and Joanne Anderson’s essays in this volume.
Foligno and another undated version was printed in Viterbo. The variety
of locations for publishing attests to its popularity. The quality of writing
in the chapbooks seems to be aimed at men and women with little more
than basic literacy. Sociologists agree that the goal of these prints was to
convert readers to “new values,” and that the messages contained within
were largely persuasive to people willing to accept change, which is rep-
resentative of this new “modernity.”46 The Protestant Reformation served
as the greatest example of this cultural shift, as the Reformation was the
first, largest, and most successful revolution whose outcome relied heavily
upon the print press. Even while attacking greedy printers, Martin Luther
explicated printing as a God-given means, which he stated made his ideo-
logical mission successful, unlike that of his predecessors.47 Despite its
crudity during an age of growing visual sophistication in prints, the reli-
gious pamphlet was a highly effective cultural phenomenon. Reflected in
their appearance in markets, bars, and taverns, chapbooks dedicated to
the Conversion of the Magdalene would have resonated with prostitutes
who plied their trade in these public spaces.
Moralizing Broadsheets
The religious chapbook, with its small format and easy readability, was
expanded in the late sixteenth century with the appearance of the secu-
lar broadsheet. Broadsheets, which contained multiple panels of images
and captions, represent a category of imagery designed to address greater
social and political concerns of the early modern era. The broadsheet was
often moralizing in nature and expanded upon mounting tensions put
forth in religious pamphlets and chapbooks. The multi-image broadsheet
developed and flourished in Venice and Rome from the 1560s into the
46 Burke, Popular Culture, 253–56. Cultural historians Peter Burke and Elizabeth L.
Eisenstein became leaders in the expanding awareness of the sociological relevance of
printed works in European society and influenced a new group of scholars to expand the
field of research. In Eisenstein’s seminal The Printing Press as an Agent of Change: Com-
munications and Cultural Transmissions in Early Modern Europe (Cambridge: Cambridge
University Press, 1979), the author discussed print culture as the catalyst for religious and
political revolutions. For an updated revision, see also Eisenstein, The Printing Revolution.
47 The sheer output of Luther’s agents outnumbered Catholic pamphlets five to three
and flooded the early modern market of prints. In fact, Luther launched the most aggres-
sive media campaign against Catholicism, and between 1518–25, German prints outnum-
bered the works of seventeen other Evangelical printers combined. See Mark U. Edwards,
Printing, Propaganda, and Martin Luther (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1994).
seventeenth century. These broadsheets were sold and posted in taverns

for the amusement of clientele to serve as moralizing entertainment,
or pinned up in workshops or homes as a means of instruction for the
young.
The most popular themes repeated in various broadsheets include
Mondo alla riversa (Topsy-Turvy or Upside-Down World) and Proverbi: il
Mondo gabbia dei matti (The World Is a Cage of Fools). Additionally, vari-
ous titles were dedicated to the lives of courtesans, prostitutes, and those
who frequented prostitutes, otherwise referred to in English chapbooks
as “rakes.”48 Similar to chapbooks, broadsheets were narrative in form.
Considering their moralizing nature, they have been construed as early
folk tales, which emerged as a genre in the fourteenth century. Similar to
the convention of folk tales, moralizing broadsheets dedicated to the lives
of prostitutes do not concern themselves with individuals but with types,
propelling them relentlessly toward their obvious end in order to point
out an equally obvious moral conclusion.49
The moralizing broadsheet was a fashionable print form circulated
widely in Venice and Rome and can be interpreted as visual testimony
to the growing backlash against Renaissance prostitutes in early mod-
ern Italy.50 From the mid-sixteenth century, many European countries
attempted to outlaw prostitution, or at a minimum, limit prostitutes’
freedoms, including restricting where they lived. In many broadsheets
dedicated to the subject of prostitution, the prostitute was no longer
depicted as an elite courtesan, but rather as the subject of ridicule and
scorn. The dissemination of moralizing broadsheets depicting the lives
48 Kunzle, The Early Comic Strip, 258–93.

49 Kurz, “Italian Models,” 136.
50 Attempts in the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries to punish and limit the free-
dom of prostitutes included the isolation of the prostitute’s living quarters and their legal
rights to move around the city. However, when Pope Pius V’s 1556 program of contain-
ment proposed to relocate prostitutes to Trastevere, locals there threatened to burn down
their own houses rather than share their streets with whores. See Ludwig von Pastor, His-
tory of the Popes, Vol. 17 (Saint Louis: Herder, 1951), 396. Protestant cities were among the
first European centers to formally illegalize prostitution by shutting down public brothels,
beginning with Zwickau in 1526, Augsburg in 1532, London in 1546, Languedoc in the 1550s,
and Amsterdam in 1578. One of the last European countries to close its brothels was Catho-
lic Spain in 1626. Martin Luther addressed prostitutes as heathens and Protestants began
to treat these women as enemies to Christendom. John Calvin went further in his condem-
nations by stating that any fornication was against the will of God and, in 1556, proposed
the death penalty for prostitution. See Otis, Prostitution in Medieval Society, 34–35. In 1586
Pope Sixtus V also imposed the death penalty on prostitutes and those who committed
other “sins of nature.” See Storey, Carnal Commerce, 15–16.
and ‘miserable ends’ of unrepentant prostitutes paralleled the popularity

of chapbooks dedicated to the Conversion of the Magdalene. In contrast
to the positive image of the penitent Magdalene upheld as a model in
chapbooks, broadsheets often included negative illustrations. While the
goal was the same—to encourage a change in behavior—broadsheets did
so by showing the worst-case scenario.
One of the earliest moralizing prints to cast prostitution in an entirely
negative light is the title page of Maestro Andrea’s 1525 Purgatory and
Lament of the Roman Courtesans (fig. 4.3). The print relates to an event
that took place for the Carnival in Rome, which was documented by an
unknown Roman correspondent on February 11, 1525:
Yesterday maestro Andrea made a cart with paper effigies on it of all the old
courtesans of Rome, each inscribed with her name, and he threw them all
into the river before the Pope’s eyes; I have dispatched to Orsolina the son-
net and the poem recited on this occasion. On the morrow, to avenge them-
selves, the courtesans beat the aforesaid maestro right across the town.51
The event, which preceded the Sack of Rome by two years, was report-
edly a source of typical carnival entertainment.52 However, the growing
hysteria over the spread of syphilis, discussed earlier by Elizabeth Carroll,
and the presence of the new hospital in Rome dedicated to the incurabili,
created a dark, looming shadow over such merriment.53 In the Purgatory,
the male author writes in first person and requests prayers and charity
for the sick prostitutes suffering in the hospital; in the Lament, the ailing
courtesan moans over her premature descent into hell on earth. Although
the male protagonist and anti-heroine of the pamphlet reveal the tragedy
of the dying incurabili, continual allusion is made to the dark fate awaiting
51 As quoted in Kurz, “Italian Models,” 136–37. Maesto Andrea hailed from Venice and
was a close friend of Pietro Aretino, who also contributed a verse to the Lamento. See
Kunzle, The Early Comic Strip, 270.
52 On Shrove Tuesday, or Mardi Gras, there were often reports of attacks on prostitutes.
For more on Carnival entertainment, see Arthur F. Kinney, A Companion to Renaissance
Drama (Oxford: Blackwell Publishing, 2002).
53 The Roman Incurabili was built in 1521 at S. Giacomo, but was initially suggested in
1515 by Leo X’s Papal Bull Salvatoris nostri. Hospitals dedicated to the incurabili were built
in numerous Italian cities to address the overwhelming number of poor patients with vis-
ibly incurable diseases who were being refused by general hospitals. In contrast to plague
victims, who died quickly, syphilitics lingered on for years, cluttered the streets, and their
appearance disgusted the public. For more on this, see John Henderson, The Renaissance
Hospital (New Haven: Yale University Press, 2006), 97–100.
Fig. 4.3. Roman or Venetian, titlepage to Maestro Andreaʼs Purgatory and Lament

of the Roman Courtesan, c. 1530, woodcut. Photo: British Library, London.
the courtesans who have not yet succumbed to the so-called mal francese
(French disease).54
54 Prior to 1530, syphilis was known almost exclusively in Italy as the mal francese or
“French disease,” and in some cases as the “great pox,” to distinguish it from smallpox. The
first outbreak of syphilis was noted in 1495 in Naples among French soldiers. That same
year Holy Roman Emperor Maximilian of Hapsburg issued a decree explaining the illness
as a result of common immorality, and both the emperor and the populace considered
prostitutes as particularly responsible for syphilis and other venereal diseases. The name
“syphilis” was given to the disease after the publication of Fracastoro’s poem “Syphilus,”
which describes the shepherd Syphilus who is the first to contract the disease as a pun-
ishment by Apollo. See Vern and Bonnie Bullough, Sin, Sickness, and Sanity: A History of
Sexual Attitudes (New York: Signet Classics, 1977), 142.
The frontispiece of the pamphlet shares the simple and crude wood-
cut illustrations of the chapbooks dedicated to the Conversion of the
Magdalene. In the Purgatory, a poor male servant pushes a cart holding
the ailing prostitute, whose exposed arms and legs showcase her large
boils, obvious clues that she is suffering from the mal francese. Although
the servant is viewed in profile, with his gaze fixed forward, the suffer-
ing courtesan meets our eyes, and in her right hand she carries leafed
branches, which she is presumably using to swat away the large insects
that swarm her open sores. Despite its crudeness, the illustration’s tragic
tone elicits sympathy from its viewers, who are forced to mediate on the
public sight of the diseased prostitute’s body in the city.
Later moralizing broadsheets expounded on the issues treated in
Andrea’s initial pamphlet. In a later print by Venetian author Bartolomeo
Bonfante’s Lament of a Famous Courtesan, circa 1600, the broadsheet’s
title page features a continuous narrative of the courtesan’s life and times,
marking her naïve entry into prostitution and ultimate sorrowful ending
in a hospital: poor, diseased, and alone (fig. 4.4). The broadsheet, which
contained stanzas from a poem by Bonfante, utilizes the familiar topos of
the young country girl drawn into prostitution by often dubious means or
tragic circumstances; in this instance, the courtesan was abandoned by a
young lover and turned to prostitution in despair over her lost honor.
The top portion of the woodcut depicts four separate scenes: the two
young lovers, the woman alone and crippled, the woman along a roadside
with a man, and, in the top right corner, the woman lying in a hospital bed
at the end of her life. The bottom portion of the broadsheet constitutes
the foreground and focus for the viewer, illustrating the courtesan at the
height of her glory, richly dressed and beautiful, flanked by her gentle-
men suitors and an attending servant. Although the subject is a ‘Lament,’
the foreground imagery deviates from its moralizing message of the ulti-
mate fate of these courtesans and instead draws in the viewer with its
appealing sensual, rich figures. Similar to the High Renaissance tradition
of the young and sensuous penitent Magdalene, the youthful beauty of the
courtesan, repentant or unrepentant, serves as the focal point. In the text
accompanying the image, the courtesan bemoans her glory days, when
her suitors adored her and showered her with compliments, gifts, and
other gestures of courtship. The resplendent courtesan recalls, “i balli, i
canti ” (the dances, the songs), and she is tortured by memories of her
former life.
Fig. 4.4. Venetian, Lament of the Famous Courtesan Signora Anzola (verses by

Bartolommeo Bonfante), c. 1600, engraving. Milan, Bertarelli Collection. Photo:
Civica Raccolta Stampe Bertarelli.
It is interesting to note that in the broadsheets, the accompanying text

increasingly shifts from addressing the women as cortigiane to meretrici,
a change that takes place from the early sixteenth century to the late sev-
enteenth century.55 On the most basic level, this modification in language
could reflect the declining status of elite courtesans as well as publishers
altering the subject matter to be more fitting to their audience. Although
early prints boasted a list of the names of the most elite practitioners, the
ultimate fate for elite cortigiane remained the same for meretrice: they
ended their lives alone, impoverished, disgraced, and diseased.56 The lin-
guistic shift in broadsheets in the seventeenth century primarily suggests
the growing awareness of the disdain for public prostitution and the real-
istic account of the women’s daily lives, contrary to the High Renaissance’s
exalted perception of courtesans in literature and art. Artists, writers, and
publishers of broadsheets thus produced images and texts that were eas-
ily understood by the early modern public, for whom the meretrice was a
highly visible element of society. As the tone of the broadsheets became
progressively darker, dramatic, and more explicit in the trials and tribu-
lations of meretrice, the message of the works aggressively dissuaded its
audience from a life of prostitution and served as a powerful instrument
for reformers.
Unlike the agonizing courtesan of secular broadsheets, the youth and
beauty of the Magdalene in religious chapbooks served to remind the
audience of the vanities the saint abandoned, and the honor that was
bestowed upon her as a result. The courtesan, who is not repentant but
rather remorseful only over the loss of her fame, beauty, and riches, serves
as a warning for practicing courtesans still in their prime, as well as a source
55 The language I have chosen in this essay reflects the language of legal status of pros-
titutes as well as the language printed in chapbooks and broadsheets. There are multiple
terms, such as puttana and zoccola, which are colloquial and derogatory expressions for
prostitutes that I have omitted. For an interesting discussion on language and sexuality,
see Ruggiero, The Boundaries of Eros, 16–44.
56 For sex workers in the sixteenth century, much was communicated in the name
given to their professional status. The term cortigiana onesta implied a higher social rank-
ing and government rights, as opposed to the meretrice, who was regulated with grow-
ing strictness. The first known official acknowledgment of hierarchical distinctions with
prostitution had been recorded in Venetian law in 1524, when legislators differentiated
between a meretrice and a courtesane. See ASV, Provveditori alla Sanitá, Capitolare, I.,
C. 33. Sanudo’s comments on the distinction between meretrice and courtesane are dis-
cussed at length in Cathy Santore, “Julia Lombardo, “Somtuosa Meretrize”: A Portrait by
Property,” Renaissance Quarterly 41/1 (Spring 1988), 45, n. 5.
of ridicule by their scorned lovers. In a popular contemporary poem titled

La carretta, the author included a list of Roman courtesans subject to the
punishment of the cart, indicating their contraction of syphilis and public
disgrace as they were transported to the syphilitic hospital. The theme of
la carretta was a common trope in literary criticism of the courtesan and
was used by male detractors to subjugate courtesans and perhaps also to
exact revenge on the women who had rejected them.57
In a Venetian broadsheet from 1600, titled The Lives and Miserable Ends
of Prostitutes, the anonymous artist and author created over sixteen pan-
els illustrating the commonly held narratives associated with these fallen
women (fig. 4.5). The panels read from top to bottom and left to right, and
are accompanied by a short text below the image explaining the progres-
sion of events. The early panels depict the feasts and attention showered
upon these young women; however, the images quickly turn dark, illus-
trating the prostitute as the cause of male rivalry and violence over her
affection.
The travails of the meretrice in the broadsheet include imprisonment,
poverty, her transportation to the syphilitic hospital in a carretta (syphi-
lis cart), and her eventual death and burial by nuns from the Incurabili.
In the last five panels, demons argue over her soul, which is transported
via ferry into the mouth of hell, where they torture her over a wheel and
with pitchforks. In the seventeenth century, the shift in language from
the cortigana to the meretrice, and the increase of macabre imagery of the
prostitutes’ lives represent the mounting intolerance for such women in
popular society. The visual and literary emphasis on the spiritual torture
and punishment of prostitutes will culminate in the eighteenth century
with the metamorphosis of religious convents dedicated to fallen women
into prisons and “workhouses” for the same individuals.58
57 Henderson, The Renaissance Hospital, 97–100.

58 Despite the official toleration that prevailed as public policy for prostitution, the
sequestering of these repentant women, regardless of the nature of the institution being
charitable or punitive, paved the way for later systems of secular carceral punishment
after the Napoleonic invasion of Italy. See Michel Foucault’s seminal study, Discipline
and Punish: The Birth of a Prison, translated by Alan Sheridan (New York: Random House,
1995). A secular movement, called the “Rescue Movement,” revived the association with
the Magdalene and attempts to reform prostitution in the late eighteenth and nineteenth
centuries in Great Britain and France. Institutions dedicated to the Magdalene were work
houses built to house and reform prostitutes through hard labor and were often laundries.
For more on this, see James M. Smith, Magdalen Laundries and the Nation’s Architecture of
Containment (Notre Dame: University of Notre Dame Press, 2007).

the printed penitent
Fig. 4.5. Venetian, Lives and Miserable Ends of Prostitutes, c. 1600, engraving. Francis Douce Collection,
131
Ashmolean Museum. Photo: Ashmolean Museum.

In stark contrast to the holy exemplar of the Magdalene as the repentant

prostitute in religious chapbooks, the morose tone of moralizing broad-
sheets dedicated to prostitutes exposed the corporal and spiritual damna-
tion awaiting these unrepentant women. The relationship of Magdalene
chapbooks and moralizing broadsheets dedicated to the lives and miser-
able ends of prostitutes is a natural pendant which reflects basic elements
of Christian dualism: rising versus falling, salvation versus damnation,
hope versus despair. Despite the fact that the two printed works were not
joined as a physical pair, the complementary nature of their messages and
formats sought to present their common audience with the positive con-
sequences of abandoning the trade of prostitution for a holy life, as well
as the negative consequences for persisting in the evil trade.
Pendants for Reform
Printed pictures, broadsheets, and chapbooks were all mass-consumed

images and texts that have been characterized by scholars as effective means
of expressing and influencing public opinion. In the majority of cases, the
questions of authorship, publication, and distribution are unanswered;
however, since prints were a market commodity, it is expected that print-
makers must have responded to the laws of supply and demand. Chapbooks
thus represent a novel democratic invention that allowed the public to fash-
ion and be fashioned by its own collective self-representation in the goods
bought or consequently disregarded in the markets. The didactic nature of
prints was particularly valuable in imposing religious orthodoxy, encour-
aging political insurgencies, and reinforcing expected social conduct.59
Religious chapbooks dedicated to the Conversion of the Magdalene and
secular broadsheets illustrating the Lives and Miserable Ends of Prosti-
tutes can be interpreted as positive and negative counterparts in the cam-
paign against prostitution in the early modern era. As attempts to curb
the selling of sex remained largely ineffective and the outbreak of syphilis
became an epidemic, prostitution and printed images of the Magdalene
continued in tandem. As part of a concerted effort for the spiritual conver-
sion of prostitutes, particularly as their visibility threatened the collective
honor of large cities such as Venice and Rome, it has been the goal of this
essay to propose that the early modern public engaged in the propagation
59 Matthews Grieco, “Pedagogical Prints,” 61–64.

of prints related to the Magdalene, and thus prostitution reform. While the
“patronage” of works on the open market is ephemeral and often impos-
sible to trace, it is my assertion that the numerous editions and various
locations of publishing provides conclusive evidence that these printed
works can be interpreted as positive and negative exemplars for the peni-
tent prostitute through the archetype of Mary Magdalene.
Chapter Five
Tintoretto’s Holy Hermits at the Scuola Grande

di San Rocco
Elizabeth Carroll Consavari
You who let come near to you women who have greatly sinned,
and augment the gains of penance in eternity forever,
grant unto this good soul also-one who lost her head but once,
unaware that she did wrong-as is fitting, your forgiveness!
– Faust II, Holy Hermits Chorus to
Mater Gloriosa: Mary Magdalene,
The Woman of Samaria and Mary of Egypt
Likened to Michelangelo’s frescoes in the Sistine Chapel, Jacopo Tinto
retto’s1 colossal series of painted canvases at the Scuola Grande di San
Rocco2 in Venice comprise one of the most celebrated cycles of sixteenth-
century Italy. The famed Crucifixion, Passion of Christ, and ceiling paintings
1 A younger contemporary of Titian and Paolo Veronese, Jacopo Tintoretto (1519–94),

is often described as the most skilled Venetian painter to engage in an anti-classical Man-
nerist mode. The most current scholarship suggests that Tintoretto’s eclectic style and
unprecedented rapid technique was nurtured in the company of “semi-established” artists
of the 1530s such as Jacopo Bassano and Andrea Schiavone in Bonifazio de’Pitati’s Vene-
tian workshop. See discussion by Philip Cottrell, “Painters in Practice, Tintoretto, Bassano
and the Studio of Bonifazio de’Pitati,” in Jacopo Tintoretto: Proceedings of the International
Symposium (Madrid: Museo Nacional del Prado, 2009), 50–51; 55–56. Tintoretto’s ability to
secure an overwhelming number of public commissions in Venice, including the Doge’s
Palace, the Churches of Madonna dell’Orto and San Giorgio Maggiore, as well as the Scuola
della Trinità and the Scuola Grande di San Rocco, is unrivaled compared to any other
artist of his era.
2 The Scuola Grande di San Rocco remains the only active lay confraternity in Venice
today. This sixteenth-century meeting hall was built to accommodate a growing mem-
bership dedicated to the plague saint, San Rocco, or Roch. The scuole grandi were the
wealthiest and most powerful confraternities, originating in the thirteenth century when
the flagellant movement was popular throughout Italy. By the sixteenth century these
spiritual corporations became more practical in their focus, assisting their members on
an economic and social level, thereby reflecting the mission of San Rocco. San Rocco con-
fraternity members were obliged not only to attend Mass, processions, and administrative
meetings, but also to offer religious and economic assistance, attend to the sick, and those
who died.
136 elizabeth carroll consavari
Fig. 5.1. Scuola Grande di San Rocco, Venice, sala terrena (ground floor).
Photo: author.
of Old Testament typological parallels lavish the ornate upper floor of the
confraternity meeting hall. While overall the subject matter of the cycle is
straightforward, controversy befalls the identification of two problematic
paintings in the Marian cycle dated between 1582 and 1587 on the sala
terrena, or ground floor3 (fig. 5.1). The two problematic canvases, which
depict solitary female saints set within landscapes, are presently located
in the southeast and southwest corners flanking the altar. Relative to their
surroundings the figures are relatively small in scale (figs. 5.2 and 5.3).
Each saint is chastely covered by a red robe and voluminous mantle and
dons a halo. The positions of the saints within the landscape compliment
each other. The figure identified as Mary Magdalene, to the left of the
3 Rudolf Berliner, “Die Tätigkeit Tintorettos in der Scuola di San Rocco,” Kunstchronik
und Kunstmarkt, 31 (1920): 468 and 492 cited in Charles De Tolnay, “L’Interpretazione dei
Cicli Pittorici del Tintoretto Nella Scuola di San Rocco,” Critica d’Arte 7 (1960): 341, no. 2.
This contentious point is addressed in the present essay. There are no documents that
explicitly suggest a manufacture date for the Mary Magdalene and Mary of Egypt paint-
ings. As a result, only approximate dates have been assigned to the paintings by Berliner,
and more recently, by Valentina Sapienza in “Vecchi documenti, nuove letture. Ragio-
nando sulla cronologia delle Storie di Maria di Jacopo Tintoretto nella Scuola Grande di
San Rocco,” Venezia Cinquecento 16 (2006): 174.
tintoretto’s holy hermits 137
Fig. 5.2. View of Mary Magdalene from the altar of the sala terrena, Scuola Grande
di San Rocco, Venice. Photo: author.
Fig. 5.3. View of Mary of Egypt from the altar of the sala terrena, Scuola Grande
di San Rocco, Venice. Photo: author.
Fig. 5.4. Jacopo Tintoretto, Mary Magdalene, c. 1582–83, oil on canvas,

424 × 209 cm. Scuola Grande di San Rocco, Venice, sala terrena. Photo: Scuola
Grande Arciconfraternita di San Rocco.
altar, reclines on a bank of the water’s edge (fig. 5.4). Positioned toward
the viewer, she gazes down at the open book on her lap. In contrast, the
figure to the right of the altar, identified as Mary of Egypt, turns away from
the viewer looking in the direction of the landscape background (fig. 5.5).
She is similarly clothed and also holds a book in her lap. Lacking the iden-
tifying attributes that typically accompany Mary Magdalene and Mary of
Egypt, scholars have debated the identity of these two figures. Along with
a new interpretation of archival records, there are several factors that sup-
port the identification of these figures as Mary Magdalene and Mary of
Egypt. Not only was Mary Magdalene a significant Venetian saint, she had
a special relationship to the incurably sick, and by extension, the confra-
ternity of San Rocco.
The Sala Terrena Cycle: Documentation, Identity and Location
Tintoretto executed the paintings for the sala terrena at the Scuola Grande
di San Rocco by 1583 after completing the acclaimed cycles upstairs in
the sala dell’albergo and sala capitolare. Because the actual creation and
documentation of these pendant paintings of Mary Magdalene and Mary
of Egypt is controversial, it is important to consider if their presence can be
accounted for in surviving documents. In the early literature on the cycle
scholars generally identified these two canvases as the only two works
of the ground-floor cycle left unrecorded in the document register.4 In
1920, Rudolf Berliner published documents on the sala terrena cycle that
became the point of departure for considering the dating and documen-
tation of the cycle’s paintings. Berliner’s interpretation of the documents,
making no reference to Mary Magdalene or Mary of Egypt, led Hans Tietze
to question whether or not these two works were an original part of the
series, while most other scholars have refuted this.5 The payment register
indicates that at least four unspecified paintings were completed for the
4 Berliner, “Die Tätigkeit Tintorettos in der Scuola di San Rocco,” 468 and 492. See note
3. Berliner first published the documents concerning Tintoretto’s activity at the Scuola
Grande di San Rocco.
5 Hans Tietze, “Bozzetti di Jacopo Tintoretto,” Arte Veneta 5 (1951): 64. Tietze suggested
that these figures were similar to the painting Hermit in a Landscape, now in the Princeton
University Art Museum. See essay by Robert Echols and Frederick Ilchman, “Toward a New
Tintoretto Catalogue with a Checklist of revised Attributions and a New Chronology,” in
Jacopo Tintoretto: Proceedings of the International Symposium (Madrid: Museo Nacional del
Prado, 2009) 133 and 150.
Fig. 5.5. Jacopo Tintoretto, Mary of Egypt, c. 1582–83, oil on canvas, 425 × 221 cm.
Scuola Grande di San Rocco, Venice, sala terrena. Photos: Scuola Grande
Arciconfraternita di San Rocco.
sala terrena in 15846 including the Presentation in the Temple by 1587.7 The
other three paintings, which presumably included Mary Magdalene and
Mary of Egypt, appear undocumented. A new interpretation by Valentina
Sapienza suggests otherwise. Two separate documents from 1582 and 1583
constitute evidence of payment for several canvases completed in the sala
terrena.8 Contrary to Berliner’s long held assumption that Mary Magdalene
and Mary of Egypt were left without notice, Sapienza proposed that the
payment of sixteen ducati to Jacopo Tintoretto for azurite pigment on
September 23, 1582 indirectly documented these paintings. According to
her, the azurite was intended for the two female saints delivered by July
22, 15839 in time for the feast of San Rocco.10
Early scholars not only questioned the documentation of the sala ter-
rena pendant paintings but also the identification of the female saints.
Curiously, early chroniclers of Venetian art such as Carlo Ridolfi and
Antonio Maria Zanetti resisted identifying the two corner paintings as
Mary Magdalene and Mary of Egypt. Ridolfi omitted them entirely, and
in Zanetti’s case, he referred to them generically as “landscapes.”11 It was
not until 1815 when Gianantonio Moschini first identified the figures as
Mary Magdalene and Mary of Egypt in his seminal guide to Venice.12 The
6 Edoard Huttinger, Die Bilderzyklen Tintorettos in Scuola di San Rocco zu Venedig (Zur-
ich: Buchdruckerei der Neuen Zürcher Zeitung, 1962), 48. The Flight of Egypt is one of these
according to Huttinger while no others are specified by title. Huttinger cites Berliner as
the document source.
7 Huttinger, Die Bilderzyklen Tintorettos in Scuola di San Rocco zu Venedig, 48.
8 Sapienza, “Vecchi documenti, nuove letture,” See note 10, especially 174–80.
9 Incidentally July 22nd is the Feast of Mary Magdalene, however there is no specific
reference to the significance her feast day in the recorded payment.
10 Sapienza, “Vecchi documenti, nuove letture,” 174, 180, 183 and 189. Sapienza sug-
gests the 1583 payment reflects completion of the paintings in reference to a later docu-
ment on May 27, 1584 when plastering of the ground hall walls was undertaken near, “li 2
quadri de baxo . . . e 2 quadri grandi . . .” The two paintings not described as “large” implies
their smaller size. The other two paintings are those referred to in the 1583 payment to
Tintoretto.
11 Carlo Ridolfi, The Life of Tintoretto, trans., Catherine and Robert Enggass (Univer-
sity Park: Pennsylvania State University Press, 1984), 36. Ridolfi moves from an exhaustive
description of the Massacre of the Innocents, which is the last large scale painting on the
wall that abuts the Calle della Scuola, followed by a window, then Mary Magdalene. Along
the altar wall there is the altar niche with aedicule frame flanked by two Codussian-style
windows. Mary of Egypt is the first painting moving from altar wall to the right. He con-
cluded his description stating, “The last two paintings are of the Circumcision of Our Lord
and the Assumption of the Virgin . . .,” Antonio Maria Zanetti, Della Pittura Veneziana e
delle Opere Pubbliche . . . (Venice: Albrizzi, 1771), 145. Zanetti wrote, “In the corners there
are several landscapes for filling in by the same painter . . .” (Negli angoli vi sono per riem-
pimento alcuni paesi, dall’istesso autore dipinti . . .).
12 Gianantonio Moschini, Nuova Guida per Venezia, (Venice, 1828), 216.
problems of identifying these figures probably contributed to the question

of their originality to the cycle.13 Confirming that they were designed as
part of sala terrena cycle, however, is their measurements. The canvas rep-
resenting Mary Magdalene measures 424 × 209 centimeters, while Mary
of Egypt, is slightly wider at 425 × 221 centimeters. The precise fit of the
paintings in the narrow openings spaced between the window apertures
indicate that they were surely made to fit these unusually slender, verti-
cal areas around the biforal windows. Further reinforcing their originality
to the cycle, Josef Grabski proposed that the light sources painted into
the nocturnal scenes of both female saints matched up precisely with
the actual light sources in the room: Mary Magdalene from the right, and
Mary of Egypt from the left.14 One could assume that the lack of wall space
along the altar wall would have affected the number and type of scene
Tintoretto could design. Most scholars concur that Tintoretto intended
for the works to be hung exactly as they are today, flanking both corners
of the altar wall in the sala terrena.15
While the dimensions of the paintings in question confirm that they
were always part of the sala terrena cycle, how exactly they fit into the
cycle’s iconography has further complicated identifying the females
depicted. Giandomenico Romanelli asserted on scant evidence that the
textual sources for the sala terrena narratives were the Marian stories
from the Pseudo-Matthew and the Infancy Gospel of Thomas.16 Based on
the Pseudo-Matthew account of Christ’s birth, at which the Virgin Mary
was attended by two midwives, Romanelli identified the two figures in
question as portraits of the Virgin’s midwives, Salome and Zelomi.17 Given
13 Tietze, “Bozzetti di Jacopo Tintoretto,” 64.

14 Josef Grabski, “The Group of Paintings by Tintoretto in the Sala Terrena in the Scuola
di San Rocco in Venice and Their Relationship to the Architectural Structure,” Artibus et
historiae 1 (1980), 127–28.
15 See Echols and Ilchman, “Toward a New Tintoretto Catalogue with a Checklist of
revised Attributions and a New Chronology,” 133. This publication offers the most recent
assessment of Tintoretto’s oeuvre and attributed paintings. The authors consider the
two canvases of Mary Magdalene and Mary of Egypt as authentic and original to the sala
terrena cycle.
16 Giandomenico Romanelli, Tintoretto: La Scuola Grande di San Rocco (Milan: Electa,
1994), 42 and Bernard Aikema, “Santa Povertà e Pietas Venetiana. Osservazioni sul signifi-
cato della decorazione della sala terrena della Scuola di San Rocco,” in Jacopo Tintoretto
nel quarto centenario della morte, ed. Paola Rossi and Lionello Puppi (Padua: Il Poligrafo,
1994), 188. Tom Nichols, Tintoretto: Tradition and Identity (London: Reaktion Books, 1999),
219.
17 Pseudo Matthew, Book of the Birth of the Blessed Mary and the Infancy of the Saviour.
Hebrew by Matthew, Latin by Presbyter Jerome, Chapter 13.
the limited circulation of these texts, this interpretation seems unlikely.

Further, any corresponding iconographic details typically associated with
the midwives are absent from the scenes. Subsequently, Romanelli offered
an alternative reading for the female saint who looks toward the viewer
(Mary Magdalene) and theorized that she could be a metaphor for Eccle-
sia holding the New Testament. Romanelli argued that Mary Magdalene’s
engagement with the viewer must suggest enlightenment warranted by
the new faith: Christianity. Thus, according to Romanelli the opposite fig-
ure (Mary of Egypt) represents Sinagoga holding the Old Testament, who
unenlightened by Christ, turns away from the viewer.18
This interpretation is unfounded based on the manner in which these
figures were typically represented in Venetian art. In surviving examples
of Venetian painting Sinagoga appears as a figure known as La Vecchia,
an elderly woman who personified unconverted Judaism. Examples of La
Vecchia, accompanied by sacrificial animals, appear in Carpaccio’s nar-
rative about conversion in the Life of Saint Ursula (circa 1490–96) and in
Titian’s Presentation of the Virgin (1534–38). In the absence of any overt
references to old age or ritual practices associated with Judaism, Tin-
toretto’s Mary of Egypt does not resemble contemporary representations
of Sinagoga in Venetian art, making the identification of that painting as
such unsustainable.
Bernard Aikema offered a different identification for the females in the
sala terrena paintings based specifically on the description of Mary’s visit
to her cousin Elizabeth as recorded in the apocryphal Book of James.19
According to his reading of the apocryphal text, the two females represent
the Virgin Mary and Elizabeth. More recently, Astrid Zankert argued for
identifying the two females as Mary of Egypt and Mary Magdalene. Accord-
ing to her, their upward gaze alludes to an epiphany and refers to the
revelation of God’s appearance in the world in response to the Infancy of
Christ: a theme found in the other episodes of the sala terrena paintings.20
Zankert insists both female saints point figuratively to the landscape as if
they are about to receive a revelation. Despite the creativity of these read-
ings, scholars have had difficulty trying to identify the female saints in the
sala terrena cycle, primarily because they lack the necessary attributes.
What these studies have not addressed is how the identity of the female
18 Romanelli, Tintoretto: La Scuola Grande di San Rocco, 44.

19 Aikema, “Santa Povertà e Pietas Venetiana,” 188.
20 See Astrid Zankert, Tintoretto in Der Scuola di San Rocco: Ensemble und Wirkung,
(Tübingen: Ernst Wasmuth, 2003), 236.
saints in these paintings related to the confraternity of San Rocco and to

their location next to the ground floor altar. As the primary meeting hall
for members of the San Rocco confraternity, these paintings were visible
upon entering the building. In the context of sixteenth-century Venice,
where the Magdalene was a popular saint, and the mission of the con-
fraternity, the representations of the holy hermits, Mary Magdalene and
Mary of Egypt offer a nascent moral code. The popularity and tradition of
Mary Magdalene in Venice, the prevalence of prostitution linked to incur-
able disease invoking Mary Magdalene, and the strong connection with
hermit figures and disease are critical junctures pondered in this essay.
In the art historical literature, Antonio Niero keenly interpreted the
presence of the two female penitent saints as playing a pivotal role in
linking the ground-floor cycle to San Rocco, the patron of the confrater-
nity, in the upper-floor cycle. Niero associated the inclusion of the two
penitent figures as a reference to socially repugnant diseases like syphilis,
which had reached epidemic proportions during the sixteenth century.21
Thus their “participation” could be considered a typological parallel to San
Rocco and the Old Testament and New Testament, much like the refer-
ences to disease found in the upper-floor paintings of the Brazen Serpent
or the Healing of the Paralytic. Vital to uncovering the meaning of these
paintings is their identification as Mary Magdalene and Mary of Egypt.
That they are situated within in a Marian cycle is also important. Fram-
ing the entire lower hall and ornate staircase entryways, the cycle of eight
painted canvases begins from right of the entrance wall and progresses
left to right starting with the Annunciation, the Adoration of the Magi, the
Flight into Egypt, the Massacre of the Innocents, Saint Mary Magdalene,
Saint Mary of Egypt, the Circumcision and the Assumption of the Virgin.
In these paintings the Virgin Mary is present in five of the eight scenes.22
21 See Antonio Niero, “Il Tesoro di San Rocco,” in Venezia e la peste 1348–1797, (Venice:
Marsilio, 1979), 329. Niero did not elaborate on this proposal.
22 This is a contentious point and Charles De Tolnay argued in favor of a Marian identi-
fication. See De Tolnay, “L’Interpretazione dei Cicli Pittorici del Tintoretto Nella Scuola di
San Rocco,” 368–374. An important resource to consider is the confraternity chapter rules,
or Mariegola, which list certain mandated activities for the confratelli or members. There
were a total of nineteen days in which particular feasts would be celebrated. Four of these
were dedicated to the Virgin: the Presentation in the Temple, the Conception, Nativity and
Assumption. These four feast days represent four of the total eight paintings in the sala ter-
rena. See Franco Tonon, Scuola dei Battuti di San Rocco: Documenti sulle origini e illustrazi-
one dei capitoli delle mariegole, Vol. 5 of Quaderni della Scuola Grande Arciconfraternita di
San Rocco (Venice: Arciconfraternita di San Rocco, 1998), 66. There is no acknowledgment
of Saints Mary of Egypt or Mary Magdalene in the chapter rules.
Because so many of the canvases also illustrate Christ’s infancy narrative

they likely served as a prelude, vis-a-vis passageway, to the upstairs’ Pas-
sion and Old Testament scenes.23
While Mary Magdalene and Mary of Egypt are figures not necessarily
included in Marian iconography, because their legends form separate sto-
ries in the Golden Legend, there are other examples where the Virgin Mary
and Mary Magdalene are paired, including the Guidalotti-Rinuccini Cha-
pel in the Church of Santa Croce in Florence.24 The pairing of the Virgin
and Mary Magdalene, which occurred not only in contemporary art, but
also in theological writings, supports the proposed identification of the
figures as Mary Magdalene and Mary of Egypt. Moreover, while traditional
attributes such as the hairshirt and ointment jar are not present, other
subtle iconographic details support this identification. An exploration of
iconographic traditions outside of Italy demonstrates that the wilderness
landscape in and of itself is an attribute of penitent saints such as the
Magdalene and Mary of Egypt.
Northern Precedent and Parallel
Venice’s status as one of the most important port cities is relevant to

the consideration of the iconography of Tintoretto’s paintings of Mary
Magdalene and Mary of Egypt, since the numerous artists visiting the
city brought with them new types of imagery and ways of representing
religious scenes and figures. The conversion of Mary Magdalene and the
penitent Magdalene were common themes in art north of the Alps. While
Italian artists portrayed the Magdalene in various penitent episodes, Tino-
retto’s borrowing of a phantasmagorical landscape setting from northern
art was unique. Quinten Massys’s Penitent Mary Magdalene and Adrien
Ysenbrant’s Mary of Egypt in the Wilderness (c. 1520–30, Johnson Collec-
tion, Philadelphia Museum of Art) and the Magdalene (c. 1510–25, National
Gallery, London, Salting Bequest) all portray the penitent Magdalene and
Mary of Egypt genuflecting in prayer on a grassy meadow. In these repre-
sentations, the landscape itself becomes a main protagonist. Tintoretto’s
landscape settings bear an even closer resemblance to the landscape-
dominated paintings of the German artist Albrecht Altdorfer of the
23 De Tolnay, “L’Interpretazione dei Cicli Pittorici del Tintoretto Nella Scuola di San
Rocco,” 368.
24 See relevant chapter in this volume by Michelle A. Erhardt, “Magdalene as Mirror:
Franciscan Imagery in the Guidalotti-Rinuccini Chapel, Florence.”
Danube School. In his Saint George and the Dragon (1510, Alte Pinakothek,
Munich) (fig. 5.6) Altdorfer purposefully inverts the narrative focus from
Saint George slaying the dragon to the exuberant trees and shrubbery that
almost engulf the figure. The visual results are an introspective close-up
of the forest viewed from the inside out.25 Tintoretto’s Mary of Egypt and
Mary Magdalene become the figural counterparts to the dominating wil-
derness, but even more so the natural topography emphasizes the her-
metic conviction of the two figures.
The previous examples address the identity of the penitent Magdalene
in northern sources, yet Mary of Egypt has almost no comparable repre-
sentations except for several appearances in Northern Italian Magdalene
cycles in Cusiano, in the South Tyrol region, and Bologna. Joanne Ander-
son explores these Magdalene cycles at Santa Maria Maddalena (Cusiano)
and San Giacomo Maggiore (Bologna) and argues that the fourteenth-
century depiction of Mary Magdalene adopts features normally applied to
Mary of Egypt, such as extreme penitence in the wilderness and her state
of hirsuteness.26 Anderson has established that further conflation of the
two penitential female saints at both locations in the act of distribution
and charity is a central feature of the lay charity in Cusiano and Bologna.27
One observes the same conflation of the two saints in the sala terrena at
San Rocco echoing the same function and devotional imagery found in
Cusiano and Bologna. According to The Golden Legend, Mary of Egypt,
the sinner, as she is known, attempted to enter a Jerusalem church but
was prevented from doing so. After she became wrought with grief and
25 Christopher S. Wood, Albrecht Altdorfer and the Origins of Landscape, (Chicago: Uni-
versity of Chicago Press, 1993), 147. Wood proposed this characterization of Altdorfer’s
inside out landscape.
26 For an up to date analysis of patronage and Magdalene devotion in the mountain-
ous territory of Northern Italy see Joanne W. Anderson’s relevant chapter in this volume,
“Mary Magdalene and Her Dear Sister: Innovation in the Late Medieval Mural Cycle of
Santa Maddalena in Rencio (Bolzano),” and her dissertation, “The Magdalen Fresco Cycles
of the Trentino, Tyrol and Swiss Grisons c. 1300–c. 1500,” (PhD diss., University of War-
wick, 2009), vol. 1, 58–128; 183–243. In Bologna there is a unique fourteenth-century cycle
depicting Mary of Egypt at San Giacomo Maggiore by Cristoforo da Bologna. Beyond the
Veneto in Northeastern Italy, there are a few examples of the two saints with dedicated
cycles. In the Trentino-Alto Adige and South Tyrol regions, fresco cycles dedicated to Mary
Magdalene remain and of particular note is the cycle at the Church of Santa Maddalena
in Rencio (Bolzano) and Santa Maddalena in Cusiano (Val di Sole, Trentino), attributed to
itinerant painters Giovanni and Battista Baschenis. See also George Kaftal, Iconography of
the Saints in the Painting of North East Italy, with collaboration of Bisogni, Fabio, (Florence:
Sansoni, 1978), 705–8 for Mary of Egypt; 708–24 for Mary Magdalene.
27 Anderson, “The Magdalen Fresco Cycles of the Trentino, Tyrol and Swiss Grisons
c. 1300–c. 1500,” 221.
Fig. 5.6. Albrecht Altdorfer, Saint George and the Dragon, 1510, oil on parchment
attached to panel. Alte Pinakothek, Munich. Photo: Art Resource, New York.
shame for her former life as a prostitute she saw an image of the Virgin
Mary. Mary of Egypt was told to cross the Jordan River and retreat in
penitence to the desert where she stayed for forty-seven years.28 It is sig-
nificant that the iconography of Mary Magdalene became conflated with
Mary of Egypt; a factor that contributed to the frequent pairing of these
saints. Not only are they often shown together, their attributes, as at San
Rocco, are indistinguishable.
Not only did Netherlandish and German painting contribute to Tin-
toretto’s iconography in his Mary Magdalene and Mary of Egypt, so did
Venice’s most famous painter, Titian. Titian produced his first paintings of
Mary Magdalene at the height of her veneration in Venice. Coincidentally,
the moralizing theme conveyed in these paintings parallels the function
of the San Rocco paintings.29 Titian based his numerous variants of the
penitent Magdalene on his original portrayal, painted between 1530–35
and now in the Palazzo Pitti Collection. Titian continued to produce this
type for over thirty years.30 One of his most significant later versions is
the Mary Magdalene painted in the 1560s in the State Hermitage Museum,
St. Petersberg (fig. 5.7). Most scholars agree that these pictures served as
models of penitence for his elite clientele. Titian’s picture formula was
a half-length figure, set in a landscape, partially nude, and made for
export.31 Bearing more resemblance to Tintoretto’s works at San Rocco
is the chastely covered, Mary Magdalene Weeping in the Wilderness,
a print after a lost painting now in the Museo Correr, Venice. (fig. 5.8)
28 Jacobus da Voragine, The Golden Legend: Readings on the Saints, trans. Wiliam
Granger Ryan (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1993), 227–29.
29 In contrast to the fourteenth and fifteenth century-narrative cycles, the iconic
Magdalene flourishes with Titian’s renditions. Titian is traditionally regarded as the painter
who deftly revolutionized the iconography of the penitent Magdalene, transfiguring the
haggard saint into a refined courtesan in paintings such as the Penitent Magdalene in the
The State Hermitage Museum circa 1560s (fig. 5.7). See Rona Goffen, Titian’s Women (New
Haven and London: Yale University Press, 1997), 172. Here Goffen proposed an alternative
and more compelling interpretation of Titian’s Magdalene portraits, suggesting that they
portray a model of chastity or repentance, and not impiousness, and achieve a, “. . . pre-
carious balance of flesh and spirit.” Bernard Aikema also proposed a “moralizing” reading
in, “Titian’s Mary Magdalen in the Palazzo Pitti: An Ambiguous Painting and Its Critics,”
Journal of the Warburg and Courtauld Institutes 57 (1994): 48–59. See Roger Rearick, “Le
Maddalene penitenti di Tiziano, ” Arte Veneta. 58 (2001): 23–41. Rearick suggested that Tit-
ian portrayed a courtesan in the guise of Mary Magdalene.
30 In addition to the State Hermitage Museum, St. Petersberg, the other later versions
of Mary Magdalene are located at the Museo Capodimonte, Naples and The J. Paul Getty
Museum, Los Angeles.
31 Bernard Aikema and Dulcia Meijers, Nel Regno dei Poveri: Arte e storia dei grandi
ospedali veneziani in età moderna 1474–1797 (Venice: Arsenale, 1989), 71–83.
Fig. 5.7. Titian, Mary Magdalene, c. 1560s, oil on canvas, 119 × 27 cm. The State
Hermitage Museum, St. Petersburg. Photo: The State Hermitage Museum.
Fig. 5.8. Cornelis Cort after Titian, Mary Magdalene, after 1566, copper engraving.
Museo Civico Correr, Venice. Photo: Molin 3171, Gabinetto Disegni e Stampe
Museo Correr.
In a letter to Titian in 1531, Federico Gonzaga specified that he wanted

his Mary Magdalene to be as lachrymose as possible.32 Titian’s portrayals,
such as the Correr print, functioned as moralizing pictures made delib-
erately “. . . to induce the ladies at court to a more Christian way of life.”33
These images were deployed into the domestic interior while conceived
with the purpose that they served as a captivating moral didactic for the
beholder.
Considering the similarity of the penitent figures and their relationship
to landscape, did this earlier tradition and its didactic function impact
Tintoretto’s pictorial choices? The very location of Tintoretto’s devotional
paintings in a place where alms were dispensed would have required
moralizing images. An exploration of northern representations and Tit-
ian’s popular devotional pictures contribute to the identification of the
enigmatic female figures as Mary Magdalene and Mary of Egypt. Mary
Magdalene, in particular, was frequently represented in a landscape in
northern representations with which Tintoretto was certainly familiar.
Titian’s Magdalene pictures also provide a source for Tintoretto’s novel
representation of the Magdalene and Mary of Egypt.
The Significance of Function and Narrative
Both northern examples of the penitent Magdalene and Titian’s versions

of this subject support identifying the figures in the sala terrena cycle of
San Rocco as Mary Magdalene and Mary of Egypt. Not given adequate
attention in scholarship to this point, the function of the sala terrena and
the specific location of the paintings in this room, also demonstrate that
32 See Aikema and Meijers, Nel Regno dei Poveri: Arte e storia dei grandi ospedali vene-
ziani in età moderna 1474–1797, 83. Aikema offered a convincing link between Gonzaga’s
request for tears and the fourth-century writings of St. John Chrysostom. Chrysostom indi-
cated that the exterior signs of contrition included weeping. St. John Chrysostom wrote,
“Lacrymae lavant delictum, quod pudor est confitieri.” Aikema’s translation, “le lacrime
sono il segno esteriore della contrition presupposto assoluto della confessio.” “The tears
are the exterior sign of contrition absolute presupposed from confession.” For further
discussion of the Magdalene’s tears see also Moshe Barasch, “The Crying Face,” Artibus
et Historiae 15 (1987): 21–87 and James Elkins, Pictures and Tears (New York: Routledge,
2004). The deep pathos yielded by the weeping Magdalene seems to suggest that penitence
was an overriding theme in this painting. During the mid-sixteenth century, depictions
of the penitent Magdalene were destined for private contexts, including the guardaroba of
the Duke of Mantua, Federico Gonzaga, Eleonora Gonzaga della Rovere, and Philip II of
Spain.
33 Aikema, “Titian’s Mary Magdalen . . .,” 52.
the two female figures in Tintoretto’s paintings are Mary Magdalene and
Mary of Egypt. Relatively simple in structure, the lower floor, or androne,
of confraternity meeting halls in Venice was multipurpose in function.34
At the Scuola Grande di San Rocco, because of its accessible location, the
ground-floor operated as the locale for celebration of Masses of lesser
importance as well as for the distribution of flour and charity to the sick
and poor, especially suffering confraternity members.35 All charity was
dispensed by the Guardian da Mattin whose official quarters were in the
sala della cancelleria, near the sala terrena the on the ground floor. The
Albergo dei Masseri, where the Guardian da Mattin oversaw administra-
tion of the offerings at the Scuola San Rocco was also located adjacently.
Beyond dispensing charity, the sala terrena had a vital ceremonial role
as the entrance leading to the upper hall, or sala capitolare, where offi-
cial ceremonies took place. Consequently, the two female saints played
a central role located on either side of the altar amidst the distribution
of alms, the celebration of Masses, and ceremonial processions. Because
of its comparative simplicity, the sala terrena is more appropriate for a
liminal space. The austere physical character of the ground floor with
its unadorned tile floor and plain ceiling of wooden beams and coffers
is in striking contrast to the lavishly gilt ceiling upstairs with numerous
wooden sculptures and walls of colossal canvases, numbering no less than
forty. Because the sala terrena was the locus of charitable distribution to
34 See Philip L. Sohm, The Scuola Grande di S. Marco, 1437–1550. The Architecture of a
Venetian Lay Confraternity, (New York: Garland Publishing, 1982), 62. Sohm’s study of the
Scuola Grande di San Marco led him to believe that the lower floor did not have a precisely
defined function, but corresponded to the multipurpose androne in Venetian palazzi or
fondachi. See Deborah Howard, Jacopo Sansovino: Architecture and Patronage in Renais-
sance Venice (New Haven: Yale University Press, 1987), 98. In the context of the Scuola
Grande Santa Maria della Misericordia, Howard established that alms were dispensed on
the ground floor. Regarding the basic function of the ground floor, Tracy Cooper charac-
terized it as, ‘. . . the meeting room . . .’ at the Scuola dei Mercanti whose overall structure
is similar: “. . . a space divided into three aisles by eight Tuscan columns on high pedestals
that support the traditional carved wood beams of the ceiling.” See Tracy E. Cooper, Pal-
ladio’s Venice: Architecture and Society in a Renaissance Republic (New Haven: Yale Univer-
sity Press, 2005), 263–66.
35 At San Rocco the ground-floor meeting room is adjacent to the Guardian da Mattin’s
quarters. The Guardian da Mattin managed the formidable task of almsgiving to the poor.
Wealthier confraternities like San Rocco in the late sixteenth century, had more funds to
give under trusts to hospitals, individuals, poor noblemen and citizens, friars and nuns and
so on. Moreover, this does not consider famine years in which the State called upon the
Scuole Grandi to dispense charity. See discussion in Brian Pullan, Rich and Poor in Renais-
sance Venice, (Oxford: Blackwell, 1971), 84–86.
suffering confraternity members and (in extreme need) to non-members,36

it warranted the inclusion of two penitents not only to invoke the attain-
ment of “good death” or salvation, but also to provide pious images famil-
iar to Venetians.
Popular Piety of the Magdalene in Venice
While most studies of the sala terrena cycle have addressed the inade-
quate documentation of the paintings and the identification of the female
saints in the wilderness, what has not been examined is the significance
of Mary Magdalene, and Mary of Egypt, in light of the San Rocco confra-
ternity and within the social fabric of Venice itself.37 While the Magdalene
was not portrayed frequently in mosaics, panel paintings, altarpieces or
scuola decoration like the Virgin Mary or Saint Mark, surprisingly, she did
play a central role in Venetian popular piety and was a significant saint
dating back as early as the twelfth century.38 As early as 1155 the Baffo
family dedicated a memorial chapel to Santa Maria Maddalena Penitente
in Cannaregio.39 Centuries later Jacopo Tintoretto was hired to decorate
the interior of the same church, furnishing them with a Conversion, Noli
me tangere and Death of the Magdalene, all of which were lost in the reno-
vated structure known today as the Church of Santa Maria Maddalena.40
In the fourteenth century Venice celebrated its victory over Genoa on
the feast day of Mary Magdalene on July 22, 1356. The Venetian Senate
decided that thereafter the Magdalene’s feast day would be adopted into
the city’s calendar of official festivals.41 By the 1520s the hospital Ospedale
degli Incurabili was established to treat syphilitics while religious institu-
tions subsequently were founded for converted prostitutes called Le Con-
vertite and Le Penitenti.
36 See Pullan, Rich and Poor in Renaissance Venice, 78–79.

37 The female saints have been referred to generically as penitent figures by Huttinger, De
Tolnay, Palluchini, Rossi, Valcanover and Pignatti, however with no further explanation.
38 Susan Haskins, Mary Magdalen: Myth and Metaphor (London: Harper Collins, 1993),
276–91.
39 Giuseppe Tassini, Curiosità Veneziane (Venice: Filippi, 1990), reprint of 9th edition,
359., Mary Magdalen: Myth and Metaphor, 277. According to these sources the finger of the
Magdalene was embedded under the high altar.
40 Recorded by Carlo Ridolfi, 19, and by Francesco Sansovino, Venetia città nobilissimà
et singolare, (1581) (Bergamo: Leading, 2002), 54. The paintings were removed during Tom-
maso Temanza’s renovation of the church. Tintoretto’s paintings were dispersed.
41 Haskins, Mary Magdalene: Myth and Metaphor, 277.
Not only did these institutions invoke the name of Mary Magdalene,
but quite literally so did the near contemporary preaching of a Capuchin
reformer. Bernardino Ochino, a popular preacher who included infor-
mation in his sermons on how the sinner must account for his or her
actions, repent and respond to the devil.42 Ochino delivered a memorable
sermon in Venice in 1539.43 The subject of his sermon was the penitent
Magdalene and apparently aimed specifically at Venetian women. Ochino
recommended that they look specifically to the convertite of Padua, for-
mer prostitutes who converted and became penitents.
Magna Peccatrix: Ideal Intercessor to the Incurably Sick
With regard to the location of the Scuola Grande di San Rocco, how do
we read an image of the Mary Magdalene isolated in a wilderness setting
when placed in a confraternity hall? Interestingly, in this context Aikema
astutely considered the flourishing cult of Mary Magdalene in Venice as
a symbol representing “santa povertà,” or “holy poverty.”44 Charity was a
fundamental mission for the founders of the Venetian scuole, San Rocco
included. Each Scuola in Venice set up their organization to provide for
the salvation of individuals and generally take care of the poor, sick, and
dead. The Scuola di San Rocco became an official Scuola Grande after the
plague of 1478, roughly around the year 1500, thus allowing it to admit
500 to 600 members.45 Under the custody of the Franciscan Friars Minor
42 Bernardino Ochino, Prediche di Bernardino Ochino da Siena. Novellamente ristampate

& con grande diligentia rivedute e corrette. (Basel, P. Perna, c. 1548). In one instance Ochino
addresses prostitutes and their penitence, but makes no mention of Mary Magdalene in
Predica VII, “Del modo che debba tenere el peccatore per giustificarsi,” page “d 4” recto.
“But publicans (tax-collectors), prostitutes and great sinners of the world . . .”
43 Bernardino Ochino, “Nove Prediche,” in Predicazione dei Cappuccini nel Cinquecento
in Italia (Loreto: Libreria S. Francesco d’Assisi 1956), 556, 558, 561, as cited in Haskins, Mary
Magdalen: Myth and Metaphor, 276.
44 Aikema, Nel Regno dei Poveri: Arte e storia dei grandi ospedali veneziani in età mod-
erna 1474–1797, 84. However, Aikema arrived at this conclusion after consideration of an
altarpiece by Paolo Veronese’s younger brother, Benedetto Caliari. The altarpiece, which
depicts the Virgin and Child with Saint Mary Magdalene (1590s or later), conveys an
entirely different message. The effect is narrative. To the right in this painting is a group
of well dressed Venetian women kneeling in supplication to the Virgin and Magdalene.
The actual convertite or reformed prostitutes lodging at the hospital of the Soccorso are
depicted below and to the left. Benedetto Caliari painted this altarpiece for the Church
of the Soccorso, another location in Venice dedicated to the treatment and reform of
prostitutes.
45 Pullan, Rich and Poor in Renaissance Venice, 33–34.
of the nearby Frari, the mission of the Scuola San Rocco was charity and
ministering to those suffering from the plague. Brian Pullan long ago dis-
cussed the significance of Venetian scuola members caring for the incur-
ably sick. Providing for the incurably ill, a “socially valuable” activity,
was viewed as a form of religious asceticism comparable to self-torture
or austerity.46 Generally speaking, during the sixteenth century syphilitic
patients in Venice and Europe were among the first of the incurably sick
to receive charity. Syphilitics were treated much like lepers and plague
victims. Syphilitics by the secondary and latent stages of the disease typi-
cally exhibited lesions on the hands and face as well as a red rash on the
extremities. By the tertiary phase of the infection mental illness, blindness,
neurological problems and even severe facial disfiguring could result.47
In Venice, the earliest hospitals of the sixteenth century were estab-
lished not only to provide the incurably sick with “treatment,” attending to
the physical body, but also with spiritual aid. With respect to prostitutes,
treatment at places such as the Ospedale di Santa Maria Maddalena, Le
Convertite and Le Pentitenti at the Ospedale di Santa Maria also involved
the reform of the soul. That prostitution was a real concern is reflected in
the writings of the Venetian diarist, Marin Sanudo, who famously declared
that in sixteenth-century Venice there were over 11,000 prostitutes work-
ing in a city of only 100,000 people.48 While this number was exagger-
ated, prostitution was increasing in sixteenth-century Venice. To put this
into context Margaret Rosenthal suggested that the increasing numbers
of female prostitutes in sixteenth-century Venice was directly connected
to the practice of late marriage for men. Moreover, the city had a gov-
ernment that was inclined to overlook prostitution in the face of other
sexual crimes.49 While Venice’s liberal treatment of prostitution had some
positive outcomes, there were also adverse effects, namely, the disastrous
spread of syphilis.50
In 1494 there was the infamous outbreak of “il mal francese,” or
the French Disease, later known as syphilis, after the King of France,
46 Pullan, Rich and Poor in Renaissance Venice, 233.

47 Department of Health and Human Services, National Institutes of Health, National
Institute of Allergy and Infectious Diseases, “Symptoms,” http://www.niaid.nih.gov/topics/
syphilis/understanding/Pages/symptoms.aspx (accessed July 29, 2011).
48 I diarii cited in Margaret F. Rosenthal, The Honest Courtesan: Veronica Franco, Citi-
zen and Writer in Sixteenth Century Venice (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1992),
11 and 25.
49 Rosenthal, The Honest Courtesan, 23.
50 See notes 52–58.
Charles VIII, led an invasion of Italy. Venice became a point of centrifuge

in dealing with the epidemic as early as 1499 when a Venetian galley was
reportedly prevented from leaving Corfu since the crew was infected with
the disease.51 The lack of proper sanitation in Venice contributed to the
spread of contagious diseases such as the plague and syphilis, which was
only exacerbated by the constant influx of foreigners during the League of
Cambrai years. In 1506, the Venetian government forbid diseased vagrants
to conceal any part of their faces should there be a need to diagnose infec-
tion and specifically the plague.52 By 1521, authorities were forced into
dealing with a public health disaster when the Sanità, or Venetian public
health office, was made aware of the victims’ statistics in San Marco and
Rialto.53
Laura J. McGough has demonstrated that the French Disease was wide-
spread throughout the city by the late sixteenth century. Based on par-
ish reports from each of the six districts, morbidity and mortality cases
indicate that the disease was equally dispersed among men and women
among both rich and poor.54 However, it is difficult to conclude with cer-
tainty if more cases were reported in poorer districts, which were more
populated such as Cannaregio and Castello, versus the wealthier and less
densely inhabited quarters such as San Polo and San Marco.55
Girolamo Fracastoro, a doctor from Verona wrote the Latin poem,
Syphylis sive morbus gallicus, in 1530 from where the disease’s name origi-
nates. Fracastoro determined that the infection was a venereal disease,
thus of natural rather than supernatural origin. Until Fracastoro’s poem
was translated into Italian in 1566, women in particular remained less
informed. Fracastoro’s discovery of natural origin and the fact that syphi-
lis was diagnosed frequently in Venice supports the idea that the illness
51 Alfonso Corradi, “Nuovi documenti per la storia delle malattie veneree in Italia della
fine del ‘400 alla metà del‘500,” Rendiconti vol. 4, fascs. 14 and 15 (Milan, 1871), 22–23 cited
in Laura J. McGough, “Demons, Nature or God? Witchcraft Accusations and the French
Disease in Early Modern Venice,” Bulletin of the History of Medicine 80 (2006): 226. While
it is often identified as the French Disease it was also referred to as the Italian Disease
and finally as syphilis.
52 Philip Cottrell, “Poor Substitutes: Imaging Disease and Vagrancy in Renaissance
Venice,” in Others and Outcasts in Early Modern Europe: Picturing the Social Margins, ed.
Tom Nichols (Aldershot: Ashgate, 2008), 64.
53 McGough, “Demons, Nature or God? Witchcraft Accusations and the French Disease
in Early Modern Venice,” 227.
54 McGough, “Demons, Nature or God?,” 227–28. McGough’s research covers twenty-
four non-plague years from as early as 1580 and to as late as 1641.
55 McGough, “Demons, Nature or God?,” 229–31.
was the result of “immoral” behavior and penitence would be propagated

as part of the cure. The shame fell squarely on the patient’s shoulders.
Hence, long before the Council of Trent it is probable that religious imag-
ery reflected a new social emphasis on penitence and conversion. In the
meantime the Venetian government policy was to eliminate the tragically
ill from the “public gaze” and confine them to hospice.56
In February of 1522 a wing of the hospital, Ospedale degli Incurabili
in Venice opened as a dedicated space for treating former prostitutes
stricken with syphilis.57 In 1524 Marin Sanudo made note of an occasion
at the Ospedale degli Incurabili in which twelve Venetian noblemen and
women came and washed the feet of syphilitics. According to Sanudo, it
attracted numerous observers and motivated subsequent acts of piety.58
Later on, this grouping of patients was moved to the Giudecca where con-
verted prostitutes established their own convent and church dedicated to
the Magdalene, officially called Le Convertite in 1551.59 Another institution
was set up for converted prostitutes in Venice, called Le Penitenti, and was
founded beginning in the mid fourteenth century, however it was not a
functional hospital complex for converts until the eighteenth century.60
It was recently discovered that San Rocco confraternity members made
modest but consistent financial donations to the Ospedale degli Incurabili
from 1528–98 in addition to the confraternity’s central charitable offer-
ings to plague sufferers.61 The architect, Francesco di Giovanni dalla Seta,
56 Cottrell, “Poor Substitutes: Imaging Disease and Vagrancy in Renaissance Venice,” 63.
According to Cottrell those who resisted faced expulsion from Venice.
57 Andrea Nordio, “L’ospedale degli incurabili nell’assistenza veneziana del ‘500,”
Studi Veneziani 32 (1996): 166–68. See also by A. Nordio, “Presenze femminili nella
nascita dell’ospedale degli incurabili di Venezia,”Regnum Dei Collectanea Theatina 20
(Jan–Dec. 1994): 11–39.
58 Marin Sanudo, I diarii, (Venice: Visentini, 1879–1903), vol. 36, col. 102–3.
59 Haskins, Mary Magdalen: Myth and Metaphor, 287.
60 Aikema and Meijers, Nel Regno dei Poveri: Arte e storia dei grandi ospedali veneziani
in età moderna 1474–1797, 273–75.
61 I thank Gianmario Guidarelli for having brought these records to my attention. Fre-
quent almsgiving and testament bequests were made by San Rocco confraternity mem-
bers to the Ospedale degli Incurabili and are documented in the Archivio di Stato, Scuola
Grande di San Rocco, “Registro delle Parti 1488–1583.” See Gianmario Guidarelli, Una gio-
gia ligata in piombo: la fabbrica della Scuola di San Rocco in Venezia, 1517–1560, (PhD diss.,
Istituto universitario di architettura di Venezia, 2000/2001), 116, 118, 264, 265, 267–70 and
271. Guidarelli noted repeated instances in which donations were made to the Incurabili:
March 4, 1528, “il testamento di Maffio Donado, si è pregato per la SGSR, ad essi vadano
delle elemosine (fra questi l’ ospedale degli Incurabili) . . .”; March 22, 1528, “. . . elemosina
all’Ospedale degli Incurabili “che pochi anni in qua fabrichano . . .”; February 6, 1529,
“Elemosina di D 25 all”ospedal de poverj inchurabellj de san zane pollo” che stanno per
costruire un pozzo.”; October 27, 1532, “. . . servitori; lascia D 5 all’Ospedale della Pietà, D 5
who designed the early sixteenth-century addition of the upper story to

the San Rocco meeting hall not only began as a San Rocco deacon, but
also became active in establishment of the Ospedale degli Incurabili. Fran-
cesco’s father, Giovanni, associated with reformist Gaetano Thiene of the
charitable Theatine Order, sought refuge at the Incurabili after the Sack
of Rome in 1528 and supported the hospital in its early years of estab-
lishment.62 In light of the recent archival discoveries, one can substanti-
ate the idea that charitable institutions such as the Scuola Grande di San
Rocco were connected to the establishment of early hospital care, and, in
particular, with Ospedale degli Incurabili which tended to sufferers of the
plague and syphilis. The active involvement of the Scuola di San Rocco
in prostitution reform and in the treatment of syphilitics is an important
consideration in determining the identity of the female figures in Tin-
toretto’s sala terrena paintings. In the context of the mission of San Rocco,
which contributed to the Incurabli for over seventy years, the selection of
two penitential saints, Mary Magdalene and Mary of Egypt, was appropri-
ate and reflected their goals.
In conclusion, it is exceedingly relevant that the social climate of Ven-
ice in the 1580s was laced with cultural and religious tension coming from
various sources on the eve of Tintoretto’s work on the sala terrena. Several
decades ahead of his San Rocco activity, the discovery that syphilis was of
natural origin lead the Inquisition to associate the disease with perversion,
thus immediate grounds for heresy. Ironically, the Venetian government’s
relaxed policy regarding prostitution clashed with the centralist interests
of the Inquisition and the prosecution of heretics, which undoubtedly
undermined Venice’s sense of autonomy. From 1575–77 the city suffered
all’Ospedale degli Incurabili . . .”; March 17, 1538, “Disposizioni per un sontuoso funerale a
cui devono partecipare i confratelli di San Rocco, il capitolo di San Marco e di San Pietro
di Castello, i giovani dell’Ospedale di San Giovanni e Paolo e degli Incurabili . . . alla quale
dona D 60.”; N.D. 1555 “Lascia D 100 agli Incurabili . . .”; March 1, 1559 “Lasciti all’Ospedale
di San Giovanni e Paolo, agli Incurabili, al monastero del Santo Sepolcro.”; June 9, 1559,
“Lasciti all’ospedale degli Incurabili (D 20),” October 3, 1598, “Donazioni alla Pietà e
all’Ospedale degli Incurabili, ma non a San Rocco.”
62 Gianmario Guidarelli, Una giogia ligata in piombo. La fabbrica della Scuola Grande di
San Rocco 1517–1560, Vol. 8 of Quaderni della Scuola Grande Arciconfraternita di San Rocco
(Venice: Helvetia, 2003), 21–23. Andrea Nordio further proposed that as an official governor
of the Hospital, the dalla Seta family not only belonged to a Venetian reformist group but
also cultivated public interest in reforming evangelical and charitable Church activity at
the Incurabili. This association seems to suggest that Francesco was an individual dedi-
cated to charity and held ambitious aspirations as a leader. See Andrea Nordio, “Protettori
Dell’Ospedale Degli Incurabili di Venezia Amici di Girolamo Miani (1531),” Somascha 20:1
(1995): 20–22.
another disastrous bout of the plague and increasing the number of chari-
table works for the Scuola Grande di San Rocco to consider. One critical
stipulation of the San Rocco chapter rules was that all members would
provide assistance to those suffering from the plague. And, in absence of
the plague, the Scuola extended aid to persons infected with contagious
diseases left in isolation from family, acquaintances and neighbors.63
Tintoretto’s paintings in the sala terrena embellish the contrition of the
two reformed sinners, converted prostitutes in meditation who await for-
giveness on their journey to, “good death.” These paintings share similar
details revealing their lives as penitents and their retreat into the wilder-
ness. The conflation is reconciled in the San Rocco iconography because
it evokes penitence in aim of absolution. While the Guardian da Mattin
oversaw the distribution of flour and charity to suffering confraternity
members in the sala terrena, all were encircled by this pictorial cycle.
Imagined in this context, observation of Mary Magdalene and Mary of
Egypt as the conflated holy hermits communicated to the poor what could
have been considered a secondary mission of the Scuola: a message of
charity, conversion and salvation to the poor and the incurably sick.
This new approach reinforces the identification of Tintoretto’s paint-
ings of the holy hermits, Saint Mary Magdalene and Saint Mary of Egypt,
as visual metaphors that speak to the auxiliary mission of San Rocco.
In contrast to the earlier apprehension to identify the saints, the tradi-
tional conflation of the two penitential hermits, the examination of Mary
Magdalene in Venetian piety, and San Rocco’s charitable efforts, substan-
tiate that the choice was purposeful and meaningful to the sixteenth-
century audience and patron. In a world where syphilis and the plague
were considered fatal both figures represented salvation and hope to the
sick not in this life but the next.
63 Tonon, Scuola dei Battuti di San Rocco: Documenti sulle origini e illustrazione dei
capitoli delle mariegole, 75. The mariegola, or chapter rules, contain this clause in Chap-
ter 5 under “Chirurgia”, or “Surgery,” written by Clement VI’s archiatra or proto-medical
doctor.
chapter six
Irony and Realism in the Iconography of Caravaggio’s

Penitent Magdalene
Patrick Hunt
Michelangelo Merisi da Caravaggio (1571–1610) is often considered one of

the most important painters in western art. Born near Milan, he was a
pioneer of the baroque, and, through his imagery, a force for the Roman
Catholic Counter Reformation. His brand of realism and advocacy of
chiaroscuro light effects were particularly influential. During his mercurial
tenure in Rome between 1593 and 1606 the resurgent city eclipsed Flor-
ence as a place where artists flocked because church patronage created an
abundant amount of commissions. While he produced around 100 known
paintings in his brief lifetime, some as a fugitive from the law after his
flight to Naples, Malta, and Sicily between 1606 and his death in 1610, the
bulk of his oeuvre was produced in Rome. His primary patron, Cardinal
Francesco del Monte and his associates, supported his endeavors in some
capacity until his death.
Cardinal Francesco Maria Bourbon del Monte (1549–1627) was an aris-
tocratic prelate in Rome. Connected to the Medici in Tuscany, he rep-
resented their interests in addition to those of France. Born in Venice
where Titian attended his christening, he was educated in Urbino and
rose in the church ranks because of Medici favor. As a church diplomat
and connoisseur of the arts with interests in science,1 he was instrumental
in advancing reforms in art and music. While he may have been a poten-
tial candidate for the papacy, his advocacy of Galileo and Caravaggio and
his artistic tastes would not have endeared him to his colleagues in the
Acknowledgments are made to Prof. Dr. Sybille Ebert-Schifferer, Direktorin of the Biblio-
t heca Hertziana, (Max Planck Institute for Art History) in Rome to whom the author is
indebted for her sage comments in Venice at the Renaissance Society of America Meeting
when an excerpt of this paper was presented and also for her reading of drafts of this paper.
1 Patrick Hunt, “Francesco del Monte: Antiquarian, Connoisseur, Patron, Collector, in
Rome 1590–1610” Abstracts of Papers for the Renaissance Society of America Annual Confer-
ence, March 24, 2006. Also see Zygmunt Wazbinski, II cardinale Francesco Maria Del Monte
1549–1626 (Florence: Leo S. Olschi, 1994).
162 patrick hunt
College of Cardinals, particularly those representing Spain. Of all of his tri-

umphs he may be most famous as the tolerant and even indulgent patron
of Caravaggio, who was often in trouble with the law.
While the significance of Cardinal del Monte will be revisited in the fol-
lowing paragraphs, it is important to turn to Caravaggio’s famous Penitent
Magdalene and the ironic details that it possesses. Some of the irony in
Caravaggio’s painting of the Penitent Magdalene (122.5 × 98.5 cm) c. 1594,2
includes his portrayal of the Magdalene with a minimum of iconographic
flourish relative to portraits of her in prior and contemporary depictions.
What may seem at first as iconographic austerity is paired with a real-
ism not seen in art where allegory may play a subsidiary role (fig. 6.1). In
all but the representation of his female sitter, the painting’s visual detail
adheres to “strictest Counter-Reformation orthodoxy” even though tradi-
tion identifies the Magdalene as a penitent prostitute.3 Such ambiguity—
“unconventional . . . perilously close to confusing the sacred and profane”4
is an undercurrent in Caravaggio’s treatment of the Magdalene as a popu-
lar subject. This also became a crux for Christological theology of a peni-
tent who somehow foresees the redemptive death of Christ. On the other
hand, Caravaggio is clearly faithful to biblical and other hagiographic texts
but primarily in a subtlety often lost on his detractors. That this painting
in the Doria Pamphilij Gallery in Rome is also one of his early religious
paintings is also important, because at the start of his career he was rela-
tively earnest in seeking church commissions and less iconoclastic than
after he had secured Cardinal Del Monte’s unswerving patronage.
Overview of the Painting
Caravaggio’s novel style of highlighting his human subject in light and

muting the simple background is evident in his Penitent Magdalene. This
technique, usually known as chiaroscuro, became especially pronounced
in Caravaggio’s later paintings and was borrowed by many subsequent
Baroque artists including Hendrik Ter Bruggen and Rembrandt among
2 Sickel, Puglisi and Ebert-Schifferer, among others, date Caravaggio’s Penitent

Magdalene as early as 1594; see Lothar Sickel, Caravaggios Rom: Annäherungen an ein dis-
sonantes Milieu (Berlin: Verlag Emsdetten, 2003); Catherine Puglisi, Caravaggio (London:
Phaidon, 2002) repr., 69; Sybille Ebert-Schifferer, Caravaggio: Sehen–Staunen -Glauben: der
Maler und sein Werk (Munich: C.H. Beck, 2009), 67.
3 Beverly L. Brown, “Between the Sacred and the Profane” in The Genius of Rome 1592–
1623, ed. B.L. Brown (London: Royal Academy of Arts, 2001), 292.
4 Brown, “Between the Sacred and the Profane,” 292.
irony and realism in penitent magdalene 163
Fig. 6.1. Caravaggio, Penitent Magdalene, c. 1596–97, oil on canvas. Galleria Doria

Pamphilij, Rome. Photo: Art Resource, NY.
others. In this early painting the chiaroscuro is very much muted with
oblique shadows, as Ebert-Schifferer has noted.5
Caravaggio shows a very young Magdalene, only a “girl” as Bellori
noted somewhat derisively. She is not represented as the sophisticated
mature beauty often expected in the traditional iconography. While she is
5 Ebert-Schifferer, 2010, pers. comm., in correspondence with the author.

164 patrick hunt
surrounded by jewelry and perfume, other than wearing beautiful cloth-

ing, she is isolated from these external trappings by not touching them.
She is not beautiful in any traditional sense. Instead, her face is downcast
and in internal agony where her reputed beauty may be considered as
marred by her weeping. In a sense, this is somewhat unconventional ico-
nography for the Magdalene herself in terms of her usually more strident
physicality contrasted here by Caravaggio in her more subdued behavior
at this moment.
It is difficult to provide any firm conclusions about the painting’s con-
text. It is not certain who its intended audience was and where it would
have hung. Whether in a private chapel or public chapel, it is not unlikely
the painting had an intended hortatory effect toward penitence. It has
been suggested that Caravaggio painted the Penitent Magdalene for a
member of the clergy. This question will be addressed again in a later
section on potential patronage.
While it is fairly likely that Caravaggio did not choose his subject mat-
ter considering that at this early stage of his career he was in need of
commissions, it is just as likely that he had some liberty in the details of
its depiction or chose his model. Despite longstanding popular belief and
even canonical church traditions that Mary Magdalene was a prostitute,
no direct biblical textual evidence supports this idea. But that lack of tex-
tuality had not hindered identifying her as a sinner (peccatrix)6 or cour-
tesan (meretrix or hetaira, among other possible classical words in Latin
and Greek) in first century Roman Galilee and the iconography of the
Magdalene in art history persists in some aspects of her putative renun-
ciation of carnality. Caravaggio’s treatment here is both sympathetic and
idiosyncratic but visually correct in regard to iconological traditions of
the Magdalene.
Caravaggio and Baroque Magdalene Iconographic Tradition
Although the Magdalene was perhaps the sine qua non of the Baroque Era
(roughly 1600–1750) as putative carnal sinner turned ascetic saint,7 here
6 peccatrix is the Latin word for “female sinner” used by Pope Gregory the Great in one
of his sermons about the Magdalene. Book of Pastoral Rule, Part III (to John of Ravenna)
Chapter 28 (Admonitio 29).
7 J. Dillenberger, “The Magdalen: Reflections on the image of the saint and the sinner in
Christian Art” in Image and Spirit in Sacred and Secular Art, ed. D. Apostolos-Cappadona,
she is curiously seen in Caravaggio’s uniquely sensitive canvas as simpli-

fied. Yet, the pared-down iconography is nevertheless rich in subtlety.
The tradition of representing the Magdalene as a conflation of different
women from four gospel texts (Matthew 27:61 to 28:1–8, Mark 14, Luke 7,
and John 8), which was commonplace to the Church and its artists was
also followed uniquely by Caravaggio. As discussed in the introduction of
this essay, the scriptural Mary Magdalene may have nothing to do with
the one composite woman constructed through her conflation with other
characters. Nor do the gospel texts necessarily all refer to the persona of
Mary Magdalene, who is often said in modernity to be degraded into a
sexual object of male fantasy. It is also not unlikely that one of Caravag-
gio’s literate Roman patrons, such as Pietro Vittrice or another member
from the circle of Cardinal Del Monte, could have known the infamous
Mary Magdalene material from the “heretical” sixteenth-century source
by Jacobus Faber Stapulensis. These men were well informed on Reform-
ist tendencies (Del Monte later served as Prefect of the Tridentine Coun-
cil between 1606–1616). The aforementioned author, Faber, published in
Latin and was in Italy from 1492 onward for some years before being con-
demned by the Sorbonne as a heretic in 1521.8 In his writings he often
raised questions about the conflation of two or three Mary personae, “ex
tribus una Maria” holding that only one out of this composite was actually
the Magdalene:
Nam in prima disceptione cum Ambrosio hanc ingressus symmachian, duas
esse Magdalenas Evangelicus disputavi. Hic autem non duas sed unicam
esse deisseram.9
That Stapulensis insisted on one reduced Magdalene from the gospels
where Church tradition had made three separate personae into one was
(New York: Crossroad, 1990), 28–50. Dillenberger comments “the seventeenth century
might be called the Magdalene’s century.”
8 Jacobus Faber Stapulensis (in French, Jacques Lefèvre Étaples), Two Treatises on
St. Mary Magdalen, especially De Maria Magdalena et traduo Christi disceptatio, (both
Paris, 1517 and 1518). Cf F.M. Cross and E.A. Livingstone, The Oxford Dictionary of the Chris-
tian Church. 3rd ed. (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1997), 593, 1049; Franco Mormando,
“Teaching the Faithful to Fly: Mary Magdalen and Peter in Baroque Italy,” in Saints and
Sinners: Caravaggio & the Baroque Image, ed. F. Mormando (Boston: McMullen Museum of
Art, Boston College, 1999), 107–35. Mormando, 108, points out that Renaissance humanist
critical scholarship (like that of Stapulensis) met Church dogma head on in doubting the
extant Magdalene tradition.
9 Disceptatio Secunda a iii., as quoted in R. Cameron, “The Attack on the Biblical Work
of Lefèvre d’Étaples 1514–1521,” Church History 38/1 (1969): 9–24, esp. 14 n. 25.
166 patrick hunt
most likely not important to Caravaggio or his commissioning patron[s],

especially where the more important redemptive virtue of penitence was
concerned.
Nonetheless, Caravaggio’s treatment follows the somewhat oxymoronic
repentant courtesan tradition while simultaneously juxtaposing a hint of
past sensuality in her overt new asceticism. True or not, regarding her
supposed tenure as a courtesan, the Magdalene was an important sym-
bol of penance in Counter-Reformation Rome where “particular emphasis
was paid to the redemption of prostitutes.”10
Puglisi points out that the image of the Penitent Magdalene is one of
Caravaggio’s first religious portraits and that the “naturalism of this paint-
ing sets it apart.”11 Also unique is the manner in which she is highlighted
against the simple background. Subtle symmetries are repeated in many
details: the glass perfume vessel is echoed in the small wooden finial of
the chair in a direct vertical line; the russet color of her hair is seen again
in the satin brocade of her mantle and waist sash; the highlighted pearly
tear on her cheek—Luke 7:38 clearly states her weeping and is later elabo-
rated as proof of penitence—is also a likely simile of the vessel shape
itself; her hair frames her body in a close ellipse to the vessel; the angle of
the chair parallels the tiles of the floor pattern; the floral damask of her
dress is similar to the brocade image on her mantle; and the pearls and
other gold chains and jewels lie on the floor behind the vessel in close
proximity.
The description of the anonymous sinner in the Gospel of Luke informed
Magdalene iconography. There are four things to note from Luke’s text
that have served as the foundation for her basic iconographic attributes.
Jesus is having supper when the woman who is noted as a sinner comes
to wash his feet with tears, dry them with her hair, and anoint them with
perfume. Thus, 1) perfume jar, 2) emphasis on hair and 3) weeping are
clearly stated, and 4) she is called a “sinful woman”—or “woman who was
a sinner,” gynē . . . hamartōlos (γυνὴ . . . ἁµαρτωλός) in the Greek text—from
which Pope Gregory used the economical one feminine word peccatrix of
the Latin Vulgate.
10 Sergio Benedetti, “Classical and Religious Influence in Caravaggio’s Painting” in

F. Mormando, ed. Saints and Sinners: Caravaggio & the Baroque Image (Boston: McMullen
Museum of Art, Boston College, 1999), 222.
11 Puglisi, Caravaggio, 69.
Conventional Magdalene Iconography
Prior images of the Magdalene established her basic iconography, espe-

cially her two primary attributes of perfume jar and long hair, sometimes
reddish-colored. The color red is often associated with her in some way,
sometimes her hair is red or she is wearing red garments.12 The following
examples of Magdalene images pertain to Caravaggio’s depiction in the
presence of red hair. These features are seen in Antonio Veneziano’s Saint
Mary Magdalene, c. 1390, where as expected she holds the unguent jar that
resembles a reliquary and has an uncovered full head of thick red hair.
She is depicted in a similar manner in several of Rogier van der Weyden’s
paintings including the Magdalene Reading, pre-1438, and also the Braque
Triptych Saint Mary Magdalene of 1450, with her unguent jar, long red
hair and emphasized body contours (fig. 6.2);13 also in Piero di Cosimo’s
Magdalene, c. 1500, with her unguent jar and full head of long red tresses
(fig. 6.3)14 and Cola d’Amatrice’s 1515 Assumption of the Virgin with Saints
Benedict and Lawrence and Saints Magdalene and Scholastica, where she
is carrying the alabaster white unguent jar, has a full head of thick red
hair and is also full-breasted. Her voluptuousness is especially prominent,
since it contrasts with the representation of the other female saints in this
image.15 Bernardino Luini’s The Magdalene, 1525, is likewise in this vein
with the Magdalene holding her unguent jar, head adorned with long red
hair and where she boldly gazes out at the viewer.16 By way of compari-
son, the other major Magdalene tradition depicts her as an ascetic in the
wilderness contemplating a skull but often nearly nude or unkempt, as in
Donatello’s wood sculpture of the Penitent Magdalene, c. 1454 or Titian’s
several versions (Saint Mary Magdalene, c. 1533, Palazzo Pitti, Florence, or
his Penitent Magdalene of 1565, Hermitage, St. Petersburg) (fig. 6.4), where
12 Bernard Aikema, “Titian’s Mary Magdalen in the Palazzo Pitti: An Ambiguous Paint-
ing and its Critics,” Journal of the Warburg and Courtauld Institutes 57 (1994): 48; also see
prior canon of Magdalene attributes in M. Anstett-Janssen, ‘Maria Magdalena’ in Lexikon
der Christlichen Iconographie VII (1974): columns 516–41.
13 Rogier van der Weyden, The Magdalen Reading (National Gallery London, before
1438); Rogier van der Weyden, Braque Triptych, St. Mary Magdalen, (Louvre, 1450).
14 Piero di Cosimo, Magdalen (Galleria Nazionale d’Arte Antica, Rome, c. 1500, 72 × 53 cm).
15 Guido Cornini and Anna Maria de Strobel in Paintings in the Vatican, ed., Carlo
Pietrangeli (New York: Bullfinch Little, Brown and Company, 1996). (Antonio Veneziano,
Saint Mary Magdalen, c. 1390, plate 42), (Assumption of the Virgin with Saints Benedict and
Lawrence and Saints Magdalen and Scholastica, 1515, plate 141), 37, 55, 93, 152–3, 562.
16 Bernardino Luini, The Magdalen (Kress Foundation Collection, National Gallery of
Art, Washington, DC, circa 1525).
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Fig. 6.2. Rogier van der Weyden, Saint Mary Magdalene, from the Braque Triptych,
1459, oil on panel. Musèe du Louvre, Paris. Photo: Art Resource, NY.
she is covered mostly by her thick hair in both images.17 Both Magdalene
traditions continue after Caravaggio.
Caravaggio’s Unique Magdalene Iconography
As mentioned, Caravaggio has followed a far more subtle tradition for his
fully clothed Magdalene, apparently at the moment of conversion.18 While
17 Donatello, Penitent Magdalen (Museo Opera del Duomo, Florence, circa 1454, poly-
chrome wood and gold sculpture, 188 cm); Titian, St. Mary Magdalen (circa 1533, oil on
wood, Palazzo Pitti, Florence), also Titian’s Penitent Mary Magdalen (1565, version in the
Hermitage, St. Petersburg).
18 Vittorio Sgarbi, Caravaggio (Milan: Skira, 2007), 58.
Fig. 6.3. Piero di Cosimo, Saint Mary Magdalene, c. 1500, tempera on panel,

72.5 × 76 cm. Galleria Nazionale d’Arte Antica, Rome. Photo: Art Resource, NY.
170 patrick hunt
Fig. 6.4. Titian, Penitent Magdalene, 1565, oil on canvas, 119 × 97 cm. Photo:
Hermitage Museum, St. Petersburg.
many believe the moment of conversion of the Magdalene is when she is

at the feet of Christ, Caravaggio has selected a more reflective moment,
possibly more logical, when she is weeping over her sins (a better fit with
Luke 7:38 as proof of repentance) prior to anointing his feet with her hair
and the perfume. If Caravaggio is right, choosing to show her genuinely
private penitence in tears with her head bowed, she would then have soon
afterward brought the perfume in the more famous moment—alluded
to here in the glass vessel, which still contains its contents of nard. It is
more sensible that the Magdalene come to Christ carrying the perfume
in advance of her conversion, which would then be logically inconsistent.
The more common tradition conflates (or possibly even confuses?) both
penitence and adoration in her anointing his feet, also a plausible confla-
tion for artistic convenience.
Thus, Caravaggio’s iconography employed here is both clever and inno-
vative in many respects for its adherence to biblical text. In Caravaggio’s
warm-colored tones bespeaking both her passion and Christ’s Passion, the
Magdalene’s primary visual attribute is still the unguent vessel containing
nard (Greek νάρδος from Hebrew or Aramaic ‫ נרד‬nard). According to tradi-
tion she (rather than different personae transformed into one woman, not
as clearly supported from text) washed Christ’s feet with her sensuously
long and lustrous hair after sacrificially pouring out its precious perfume
(although here Caravaggio seems to be painting in advance of that bibli-
cal narrative moment). The same perfume nardus in Latin known from
Pliny’s Natural History XXI.70 is probably from the Indian or Near Eastern
desert plant Nardostachys jatamansi and is also called spikenard. In liquid
form it is usually golden red or orange (sometimes like the Magdalene’s
hair) and as the golden perfume hue seen here in Caravaggio’s painting.
Unlike Bellori who observed the glass vessel at her side as the per-
fumed “ointment” (un vasello di unguenti), later commentators like Lang-
don interpret the vessel as possibly a “small flask of wine.”19 According to
Spike, either ointment or wine is a plausible identification since both have
Christian meanings,20 the oil for anointing and the wine for the Eucha-
rist. The symbolism of the vessel’s association with nard, however, in this
abandonment of luxury and sensuality seems clearer if the Magdalene
is renouncing the precious perfume for personal use, especially as she is
distanced from it and the other objects clustered together in the painting
and by her act of sacrificial devotion related in the Gospels and Legenda
aurea.
In Caravaggio’s Penitent Magdalene, additional attributes make refer-
ence to the Magdalene’s life as a courtesan, including her rich clothes and
extravagant jewelry (fig. 6.1a). Her body posture, seated close to the ground
on a low chair suggests her penitence. What the Magdalene renounces
in Caravaggio’s image is consonant with what has been noted in typical
19 Helen Langdon, Caravaggio: A Life (New York: Farrar, Straus & Giroux, 1999), 148.
20 John Spike, Caravaggio (London: Abbeville, 2001), 74.
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Fig. 6.1a. Detail of Caravaggio, Penitent Magdalene, c. 1596–97, oil on canvas.

Galleria Doria Pamphilij, Rome. Photo: Art Resource, NY.
Pauline testimonia of the modest new woman of God. Saint Paul describes
in I Timothy 2:9 (often described as a misogynistic text) a woman who
is unadorned by anything but grace “not with their hair braided, or with
gold, pearls or expensive clothes.” In Caravaggio’s painting these are yet
present as having been broken and rejected next to her on the floor.
While its full provenance is uncertain, Galleria Doria Pamphilij archives
note that Caravaggio’s Penitent Magdalene was already inventoried in the
eighteenth century with a frame bearing the heraldic device of the Aldo-
brandini family. It is important to note that this family was the archrival
of Caravaggio’s primary patron, Cardinal Francesco del Monte who repre-
sented Medici interests in Rome. The presence of the Aldobrandini coat
of arms suggests that Caravaggio’s painting was early on in the possession
of Cardinal Pietro Aldobrandini (1571–1621), or possibly to Pietro’s sister,
Olimpia Aldobrandini.21 When the Penitent Magdalene was painted, their
uncle Pope Clement VIII (Ippolito Aldobrandini) was in office. But prior
to Aldobrandini ownership, Sickel has demonstrated that this Penitent
21 Sgarbi, Caravaggio, 58.

Magdalene was almost certainly commissioned by the Vittrice Family,22

most likely Pietro Vittrice in advance of Caravaggio’s service to Cardinal
Del Monte. The gentilhuomo Vittrice,23 formerly of Parma but living in
Rome, was the guardaroba of Pope Gregory XIII and apparently a lay
brother of the congregation of SS. Trinità dei Pellegrini, a church founded
by Filippo Neri. Vittrice attributed the healing of a serious personal ail-
ment to Neri.24 One aspect of Caravaggio’s treatment of the Magdalene
that further supports a Vittrice commission and early Aldobrandini
ownership is the way in which, at leas on a superficial level, no direct asso-
ciation with courtesanship can be made, only in subtle accouterments. This
denial of clear-cut eroticism in the painting would be consonant with the
period of Clementine values, ecclesiastical patronage and Post-Tridentine
preferences for modesty and sanctity. While the passionate Magdalene
could not so easily seem to be synchronously lamenting her loss of virgin-
ity at this stage in her life, in a Caravaggian ironic twist, she could also
ambiguously and reflectively weep over newfound self-imposed chastity
as her ultimate sacrifice of a sensuous life with its practical rewards and
monetary gains.
Another view on the Magdalene’s weeping is worth mentioning: it is
interesting and only slightly relevant that Peter Abelard in Sermo 13 in Die
Pascha interpreted the Magdalene’s weeping in Luke 7:38 as tears of long-
ing and love, not penitence, whose view was also seen as heretical. (It has
not escaped notice that Abelard’s words may say more about Abelard and
his married lover Heloise than about the Magdalene). Such a reference
to Abelard would not have been the sort of irony that Caravaggio could
have afforded while seeking diverse Church patronage. Despite the artist’s
persistent rebelliousness against church dogma and rules about art (at
least five of his paintings of saints and the Virgin Mary between 1600–1605
were rejected by their respective commissioning church bodies), this was
not the case in his early career.25 On the other hand, the Magdalene’s
22 Sickel, Caravaggios Rom; Ebert-Schifferer, Caravaggio: Sehen–Staunen–Glauben, 65

n32, 276, and 308. Penitent Magdalene was first in the Vittrice Inventory of 1607 then in
the Inventory of Gerolamo Vittrice in 1612 (Gerolamo was the nephew-heir of Pietro). Also
Ebert-Schifferer, pers. comm., 2010.
23 Jacob Hess, “The Chronology of the Contarelli Chapel,” The Burlington Magazine
93.179 (1951): esp. 197 n. 93.
24 Lothar Sickel, “Remarks on the Patronage of Caravaggio’s ‘Entombment of Christ.’ The
Burlington Magazine CXLIII (2001): 426 n. 2, and 429 n. 36.
25 Hunt, Caravaggio, 46, 72, 80 and 90.
174 patrick hunt
seated position resembles, according to Ebert-Schifferer, the classical pose

for Melancholia,26 which would be somewhat congruent with penitence.
Caravaggio paints the Magdalene possibly ambiguously, choosing the
moment after she has loosened her hair, an act sometimes perceived as
a provocative act in which a courtesan would have usually prepared to
bed a client-lover, but here more likely an allusion for her preparation to
wash Christ’s feet. Bellori’s comment about the artist as merely depicting
a girl “drying her hair”27 likely makes reference to Caravaggio’s pervasive
realism and even a possibly clever anticipation of the biblical narrative of
the generally anonymous “sinner” woman who washed Christ’s feet with
her hair as an act of contrite devotion (Luke 7:37–50).
Although only a speculation on a possible very subtle allegorical
moment, the chains on the floor around the Magdalene in the painting
may be gold but they could nonetheless be interpreted as having bound
the Magdalene to a life of rich material “possession”—even the putative
“demonic” possession from which she was exorcised (Luke 8:2). In that
case the chains could thus be a graphic illustration of the sensual and rich
life that had “possessed” the Magdalene.
Literary Connections to Panigarola Sermons
One of the most fascinating aspects of this painting is that it seems to follow
a singular moment in sixteenth-century homiletic liturgy. Francesco Pani-
garola (1548–94), preacher friend of Cardinal Carlo Borromeo, delivered a
Lenten homily that has long been connected to Caravaggio’s painting as a
possible textual source.28 It is also worth noting that Carlo Borromeo and
Filippo Neri (to whom Pietro Vittrice was indebted) were close friends
and leading Oratorians. Vittrice was also connected to the Oratorians in
26 Ebert-Schifferer, Caravaggio: Sehen–Staunen –Glauben, 66–67, citing Trajanic (98–117

CE) sculptural models in Rome’s Capitoline Museum.
27 Giovan Pietro Bellori, Le Vite de pittori, scultori et achitetti moderni (1672 ed., Rome),
(Torino: Evelina Borea, 1976). The painting was in the Pamphilij collection when Bellori
described it in 1672.
28 Sivigliano Alloisi, “Panigarola e Caravaggio: temi predicatori e pittura religiosi” in
Caravaggio: nuove reflessioni Quaderni di Palazzo Venezia 6 (1989): 15–40; Bert Treffers,
“Immagine e predicazione nel Caravaggio” in Michelangelo Merisi da Caravaggio: La vita
e le opere attraverso i documenti. Atti del Convegno Internazionale di Studi, ed., Stefania
Macioce (Rome: Logart Press, 1996), 270–87; noted in Brown, 292.
Rome and may have also known Panigarola or at least known of him.29
Aikema holds the painting to conform to “strictest Counter-Reformatory
orthodoxy,” almost an ekphrastic expression of Panigarola’s words:
. . . [S]acred fear overwhelms . . . a fear that is the basis of all that is good . . . let
us take as our example the Magdalene . . . casting down her necklaces and
jewels, shaking out her tresses, violently wringing her hands, she trembled
and declared, ‘O Floor why don’t you open up, why don’t you swallow me?
O Bed, you have witnessed so many of my evil deeds, why don’t you smother
me?’ Now she could not even bear to look at the walls of her house which
concealed and surrounded her lascivious acts.30
Aikema also pinpoints timore (sacred fear) and contritio (sincere contri-
tion) as two of the most important moti in Caravaggio’s painting that
derive from Panigarola’s sermon, Lettioni sopra dogmi.31 Caravaggio has
shown exactly several of the above details in the “casting down her neck-
laces and jewels, shaking out her tresses” and possibly how “she could not
even bear to look at the walls of her house” because his Magdalene looks
so downcast in her penitence. That Caravaggio’s representation of the
Magdalene so closely follows the Panigarola text suggests several ideas.
Caravaggio’s seeming dependence on the Panigarola text implies that he
was given this specific text to illustrate. Alternatively, another churchman
or prelate or a person well-connected to clergy could have possessed this
collection of sermons or the ability to recite this specific passage. The con-
nection between Caravaggio’s painting and the Panigarola text, at the very
least, is perhaps again indicative of the person commissioning the paint-
ing and possibly reinforces a Vittrice provenance.
Alabastron Glass, Not Alabaster Stone
If Caravaggio’s iconography in the painting is traditional for the most

part, it also offers a radical freshness. There are some pictorial details that
encourage closer inspection relative to either the fleshing out of biblical
texts or merely a possible textual coincidence. Although many translations
29 P. Giussano, Vita di San Carlo Borromeo (Rome: Nella stamperia della camera Apos-
tolica, 1610). Borromeo and Neri first met in 1560 and remained close for decades, both
being leaders of the Oratorians, and Pietro Vittrice was most likely a lay Oratorian; cf. Luca
Giordano’s painting, The Meeting of San Carlo Borromeo and San Filippo Neri, circa 1703;
also Lothar Sickel, 2001, 426 ff.
30 Cited translation excerpted from Aikema, “Titian’s Mary Magdalen,” 58–59.
31 Aikema, “Titian’s Mary Magdalen,” 58–59.
176 patrick hunt
of the aforementioned Luke 7:36–38 passage suggests the material of ala-

baster for the perfume vessel, the actual authoritative biblical Koiné Greek
texts state that the perfume vessel which the woman (Mary Magdalene?)
used on Christ—often mistranslated from the Koiné Greek and Latin
Vulgate New Testament as being of “alabaster stone”32—was not actually
stone at all but more typically a glass alabastron (Greek ἀλάβαστρον). This
was probably sealed in ampule form against desiccating air and oxida-
tion to best preserve the fragrant nard in a documentable classical vessel
much used in antiquity.33 Jesus accepted the pouring out of perfume as
an act of extravagant devotion; terribly expensive because both vessel and
perfume were to be used only once, the glass needing to be broken to
release its perfume inside.34 Caravaggio depicts a glass vessel here, either
deliberately or accidentally in closer accordance with the text, but most
likely to better highlight the gold transparence of the nard perfume as
symbolic of the Magdalene’s pouring her life out. Is it just coincidence
that Caravaggio does not depict either an opaque alabaster vessel or a
classical typically glass alabastron but rather a translucent glass flask? The
glass vessel itself is also possibly reminiscent in shape but not in size or
material of a perfume vessel known as an aryballos, although such would
have been ceramic. It is not unlikely that Caravaggio’s patrons could have
had access to extensive antiquities collections such as those in the Vati-
can35 or of Cardinal Del Monte, with probable representative artifacts of
both extant perfume vessels glass alabastra and ceramic aryballoi.36 More
likely, however, in the absence of proof of ancient vessels accessible to
32 The Latin Vulgate—the primary text of the Church in the Renaissance—also speci-
fies an alabastrum unguenti in the accusative (direct object) case, also mentioning only a
perfume box, not alabaster stone, which would be alabastrites in Latin, cf. C.T. Lewis and
C. Short, A New Latin Dictionary (E. Andrews, ed. Freund’s Latin-German Lexicon), (New
York: American Book Company, 1907), 79. See for example, in Luke 7:37: et ecce mulier quae
erat in civitate peccatrix ut cognovit quod accubuit in domo Pharisaei adtulit alabastrum
unguenti. Elsewhere in Vulgate in Matthew 26:7, Mark 14:3.
33 Hunt, Caravaggio, 44–47.
34 Mark 14:5 notes the perfume’s worth was 300 denarii, equivalent to a year’s wage for
many at the time in the Roman world.
35 Pope Julius II had a Vatican antiquities collection, mostly sculptures, established by
the end of his pontificate in 1513; the Medici collections in Florence (e.g., Palazzo Medici-
Riccardi with Hellenistic material) likewise started as early as the mid-15th and 16th c.
(including some of the great Etruscan bronzes and ceramics including aryballoi); among
the Medici, Lorenzo il Magnifico was a famously insatiable collector of antiquities, some
from Rome itself, along with Giuliano de Sangallo who had a Greek vase collection in Flor-
ence; the present Vatican museum known as the Gallery of Maps was decorated under the
pontificate of Gregory XIII (1572–85), whom Pietro Vittrice served.
36 See supra note 33 here.
him, is that Caravaggio was merely showing off his virtuosity in depicting
light through liquid in glass.37 On the Magdalene’s dress is another textile
vessel or receptacle motif noted by many (e.g., Spike cites Mia Cinotti and
Pamela Askew)38 as a possible simile of the Magdalene herself and which
she fills here in Caravaggio’s schemata. In this instance, the vessel (prob-
ably alluding to the perfume vessel) on her dress bears a shell-like form.
It is conceivable that this motif may reflect the classical notion that shells
(extrapolated from Hesiod’s Theogony) were one of the visual attributes of
the sea-born Venus to whose sacred cult most courtesans belonged either
professionally or by practice as those who live for amor sacer.39 The per-
fume vessel thus shown in two distinct forms may be an accommodation
of both visual traditions: the translucent glass form at her feet is one and
the other is depicted as an opaque white alabaster form on her dress. The
vegetal motifs on her clothing may depict the source of the perfume as
floral. Additionally, flowers are another attribute of Venus and as such
could indicate the fertility that courtesans explicitly evoke. The flowers
could also be merely decorative, although Caravaggio’s use of a similar flo-
ral textile motif in his Narcissus painting as an allusion to the eponymous
narcissus flower the youth would become, make this unlikely.40 Although
pearls are certainly common jewelry, the Magdalene’s pearls are another
possible Venus allusion, which will be discussed in more detail later in
this paper. That allusions to Venus exist in this painting strengthens the
traditional courtesanship of the Magdalene, perceived accurately or not
in Church history.
The way the Magdalene is positioned, described as an “eloquent cra-
dling gesture” by Gash,41 suggests many possibilities. The way in which
she encircles empty space suggests a lap and arms bereft of or seeking a
loved one. It is also a haunting image of the Magdalene as a receptacle
now open in love and penitence. Recent publications have referred to
the image as an “empty mother’s cradle” and a “womb without life” as
37 Conversations in Venice at the Renaissance Society of America 2010 Annual Meet-

ing Magdalene panel with Sybille Ebert-Schifferer and Susan Haskins affirmed this
likelihood.
38 Spike, Caravaggio, 74.
39 I. Aghion, C. Barbillon, and F. Lissarrague, Gods and Heroes of Classical Antiquity,
Flammarion Iconographic Guides (Paris: Flammarion, 1996), 296–98; and Patrick Hunt,
Renaissance Visions: Myth and Art (New York: Ariel Books, 2008), 7–20, esp. 10ff.
40 Hunt, Caravaggio, 127.
41 John Gash, Caravaggio (London: Chaucer Press, 2003), 52.
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Spike opines.42 On self-containment, it has been long pointed out that

only women can experience two types; men merely one: a woman can be
contained in her mother’s womb and contain a child in her own whereas
a man can only be contained in his mother’s womb. The tradition of the
Magdalene’s proximal contact with Jesus—while controversial—was not
atypical, since touch was characteristic of the way many people experi-
enced Jesus in the Gospels. Caravaggio also has the Magdalene’s wrists
tied with slender white threads, an elusive and seemingly ambiguous
note, possibly evocative of commitment or even its antithesis in bondage.
A white thread around the wrists was also a possible common sign of
betrothal in the medieval world akin to the chains lovers wore as bracelets
(might this suggest a spiritual “betrothal” to Christ?).
A new astute literary connection to this painting has recently been made
by Duncan Bull. He suggests that Pietro Aretino’s De la Humanità di Christo
(paraphrase of the Vita Christi) was a likely literary source for this painting
and for his attributed 1598 Conversion of the Magdalene (Detroit Institute
of Arts) as well. Aretino’s text, like Panigarola’s, emphasizes the visible
accouterments (“ornaments”) that also appear on the painting, including
discarded jewelry. Bull also affirms that Caravaggio could have gained
access to Aretino’s writings at the Palazzo Madama.43 Del Monte’s father
knew Aretino well. He was even at Cardinal del Monte’s baptism in 1549.
Possible Allegorical Magdalene Jewelry

in Caravaggio’s Painting
While Caravaggio normally avoided overt allegory in subsequent paint-

ings, some of the details invite speculation about hints of possible alle-
gory in the Magdalene’s accouterments. Thus, the Magdalene’s jewelry
bears close inspection, especially her broken string of pearls on the floor.
As already mentioned, pearls—as well as shells derived from the sea—
are classical attributes of Venus born from the sea as goddess of love.
Both perfume and bathing also allude to Venus. Despite Bellori’s conten-
tion that Caravaggio scorned classical sculpture, including the works of
Pheidias and Glykon, and Roman art, and his derogation of Caravaggio
as “an illiterate,” Caravaggio’s knowledge of classical iconography has
42 Spike, Caravaggio, 74.

43 Duncan Bull, “Caravaggio and Pietro Aretino,” The Burlington Magazine CLIII
(September, 2011): 607.
been discussed elsewhere. One manifestation of his knowledge of clas-

sical iconography is his possible awareness—although unlikely reading
familiarity—of Philostratus’ Imagines (Latin) and Eikones (Greek), which
carefully describe classical images as Posèq, among others, has shown.44
According to Benedetti, he likely made use of classical sculpture from Car-
dinal Del Monte’s Antiquarium and the Giustiniani Collection.45 Giustini-
ani was a friend and neighbor of Del Monte who spent time in Palazzo
Madama and the house of Del Monte and was also a fellow Caravaggio
patron. Among classical and Renaissance sculptures in Del Monte’s col-
lection (there were 56 marbles) that could have been viewed by Caravag-
gio were five Bacchus figures, five fauns, four Cupid figures and the small
cameo relief Portland Vase.46 Caravaggio’s knowledge of Venus imagery
is implied by the hundreds of Venus representations accessible to him,
including especially well-known classical sculptures like the Medici Venus,
or Venus Pudica and Botticelli’s Birth of Venus and other works collected
by the Medici. Caravaggio could have also caught sight of Titian’s numer-
ous representations of Venus, including the Venus With a Mirror of 1555.47
Shells and pearls abound in these images. On the other hand, pearls are
such a popular representation of wealth in late 16th-century art for count-
less women, so they may not be symbolic or allegorical in this painting
but merely decorative.
Exactly how much Caravaggio knew of classical antiquity is confused by
Bellori’s infamous anecdote noted above, where the artist preferred mime-
sis of nature to mimesis of convention. Of course, erudite subsequent col-
lectors of Caravaggio such as Giustiniani and Cardinal Del Monte would
have already known many of the possible classical allusions; less can be
said about the classical knowledge of the gentilhuomo Pietro Vittrice, the
most likely commissioner of this painting.
44 Avigdor W.G. Posèq, Caravaggio and the Antique (London: Avon Books, 1998), 28–29.
45 Sergio Benedetti, Caravaggio: The Master Revealed (Dublin: National Gallery of
Ireland, 1995), 212–13. Benedetti explores the importance of Classical statuary to Caravag-
gio and his probable models of Classical sarcophagi such as the Revenge of Orestes and
the Roman Meleager’s Companions Carrying His Body, among at least three other Classical
images, either from Del Monte’s Roman Antiquarium or his country estate Vigna di Ripetta
or from the nearby Giustiniani Collection accessible to Caravaggio in Rome; also see
Posèq, 70–73. But as Sickel has shown (supra note 22) this painting antedates Del Monte’s
patronage of Caravaggio.
46 Hunt, Caravaggio, 112; John Varriano, Caravaggio: The Art of Realism (University
Park: Pennsylvania State University Press, 2006), 23 & ff.
180 patrick hunt
It is also interesting that in parts of the Renaissance and mannerist

world a Jewess could be identified by mandatory pierced-ear loops or
earrings. Caravaggio portrayed the Magdalene with a pierced lobe. Jean
Weisz this out to the author in the Galleria Doria Pamphilj.48
It is difficult to interpret why Caravaggio has the Magdalene’s pearl
necklace broken in two sections. The simplest rationale may be that the
artist has shown her rejection of her luxurious and sinful life. The act of
breaking would refer symbolically to anguish and self-loathing. It could
also allude to the abandonment of her erotic life as a courtesan since
pearls were, as mentioned, so often associated with Venus as goddess of
carnal love. On the other hand, although highly speculative, it may be
only a curious coincidence that there are thirty-six pearls total in the two
strands—possibly important because her life span was traditionally said to
be thirty-six years—and the break occurs between twenty and sixteen, or
sixteen and twenty. If this is at all meaningful of any chronology, it could
suggest an idea of Caravaggio or others that the Magdalene encountered
Christ in her prime at twenty years old and later lived beyond her conver-
sion another sixteen years. This is one of the traditional timelines inher-
ited from patristic tradition, although Puglisi refers to a tradition which
had her living as a hermit for the last twenty years of her life, which could
also be applicable here. The Golden Legend49 states the Magdalene and
many other disciples migrated to Marseilles fourteen years after Christ’s
Passion, which could yet also give meaning to the strand of sixteen pearls
as her conversion was some time before Christ’s trial and crucifixion
according to all the gospel accounts cited earlier. If the thirty-six pearls
refer emblematically to her lifespan, however divided, of thirty-six years
as noted in the hagiographies, this may not be coincidence at all but a
subtle yet deliberate allegory.
Even her barocco earrings are shaped similarly to her body form. The
chains she has discarded could recall the medieval iconography of the
La Dame à la Licorne tapestries where cast-off necklace symbolize sen-
sual renunciation and denial of the passions (Á Mon Seul Désir). Perhaps
the gold chain could also represent a discarded and broken sensual life
whereas the white thread around her wrists could represent the new pure
life her tradition implies she would soon follow as an ascetic.
48 Jean Weisz, pers. comm., May, 2003 in Rome.

49 Jacobus de Voragine. The Golden Legend (Legenda Aurea): Lives of the Saints. William
Caxton, tr. (from Latin). Selected and edited by George V. O’Neill (Cambridge: Cambridge
University Press, 1914), vol. IV, repr., 36–42.
Here is a relevant excerpt from the hagiography of Mary Magdalene

from The Golden Legend:
Mary Magdalene gave herself up entirely to the pleasures of the flesh . . . she
was as notorious for her abandonment to fleshly pleasures as she was cel-
ebrated for her beauty and riches. So much so in fact that people soon forgot
her real name and referred to her as ‘the sinner’ . . . It was she who washed the
Lord’s feet with her tears, dried them with her hair, and anointed them with
ointment. It was she who in the time of grace did solemn penance . . .50
This medieval passage of quasi-official hagiography firmly proves the con-
flated Magdalene narrative from pastiches of gospel texts strung together
in an extra-biblical narrative. Even Voragine’s explanation that her name
was forgotten and abbreviated to ‘the sinner’ to account for the absence
of her Magdalene name from all the biblical texts supports that the gospel
text conflation into one persona was already well established by the thir-
teenth century, a tradition that the “heretic” Stapulensis disputed.
Meanings of Penitence
The term “penitent” suggests internal cognition leading to external behav-

ior. Thus “to turn away” is perhaps more reminiscent of the Greek verb
metanoeō (Greek μετανοέω) “to change one’s mind or move away from, to
change direction,” easily translated into Latin as repedare to “turn back,” but
it also fits here as well with rependere, “to ponder, consider or meditate upon”
in becoming a source for repentance and resipiscentia used by Lactantius
(c. 250–325 CE), Patristic author of Divinae Institutiones 6.24,6. Here the
Latin idea of penitent in the title of the painting could even mean “to turn
away from” as Caravaggio has implicitly shown. The idea of “repentant”
was not limited to merely “rethinking” but required follow-through in
behavior, as seen in the Doctrine of Penance of which the Magdalene was
a baroque exemplar.51 Thus, here Caravaggio’s bold innovations depart
from the traditional Magdalene iconography established by Titian and
others which derived narrative details from the Golden Legend, but he is
actually more intuitively or deliberately dependent on the biblical texts
for his iconography. This is a work of genius rather than a mere commis-
sion from any Church prelate whose tastes might have been appreciably
50 Jacobus de Voragine, The Golden Legend: Selections (New York: Penguin, 1998).
Christopher Stace, tr. Number 38, “Mary Magdalene,” 165–72, excerpted from 165–66.
51 Mormando, “Teaching the Faithful to Fly,” 107–8.
182 patrick hunt
subtle. In short, there is striking antithesis again here in Caravaggio

between the sweet and the bitter, pleasure and pain, past and present all
admixed together in her name and in her life. Where she could be sweet-
ness and rich beauty personified with all the floral and perfume fertility of
eros, she is instead a paradox of profound unhappiness and in bitter tears
despite all the loveliness her life represented up to this moment.  
Necessity of the Magdalene as a Theological Crux
Precedent exists in several vignettes for Mary Magdalene as a necessary

component in Christian history. First, the Magdalene follows the casta
meretrix motif in the repetition of a redeemed harlot in a typology hark-
ing back to the persona of Rahab in the Old Testament Joshua narra-
tives. Rahab was the harlot who assisted the Israelites against their pagan
enemies and was thus saved from destruction in Jericho’s fall ( Joshua
2:1–22). Second, the Magdalene is a duple: she is a myrophorai, distinctly
named as one bringing myrrh to anoint the body of Jesus after his Passion
(Matthew 28 and John 20), while additionally identified as the same
woman also bringing nard to anoint Jesus in a proleptic mission in the
gospels prior to his Passion but cognizant thereof. Patristic authors such
as Justin (Dialogue 111.3–4) and Irenaeus (Adv. haer. IV, 20, 12) expanded
on this historic mission of the Magdalene.52
Although early Reformation theology cast doubt on the conflation of
Mary Magdalene with other women of scripture during the Renaissance,53
only recently has Roman Catholic theology acknowledged that several
texts were conflated to create the Mary Magdalene narrative tradition.54
In doing so the Church finally responded to the critical questions posed
in 1517 by Stapulensis and others. In Caravaggio’s time the points raised
by Stapulensis and other supporters were largely ignored. As a result the
tradition of understanding the Magdalene as a repentant prostitute and
its respective iconography persisted for centuries.
52 Angelo di Berardino, ed. Encyclopedia of the Early Church (New York: Oxford Univer-
sity Press, 1992), vol. I, 453, 524.
53 F.M. Cross and E.A. Livingstone, The Oxford Dictionary of the Christian Church, 3rd
ed. (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1997), 593, 1049.
54 Victor Saxer and Maria Chiara Celletti, “Maria Maddalena santa” in Bibliotheca Sanc-
torum (Rome: Istituto Giovanni XXIII della Pontifica Universita Laterense, 1967), 1078–1107,
esp. 1078 & ff.
While creating one persona out of four or five different conflated gos-
pel narratives is both hermeneutically dangerous and textually uncertain,
it does meet certain theological needs in becoming a crux for the bibli-
cal story. In Christian dogma, in order for Jesus to be the Lamb of God
( John 1:29) who would be sacrificed for all human sin, he must be tempted
to the limit yet without sinning (Hebrews 4:15), “but one tempted in all
things like as we are, [yet] without sin” (temptatum autem per omnia pro
similitudine absque peccato in the Latin Vulgate). Being tempted is not at
all sinful, but how could he abstain from sin if there were no temptations
to sin? The New Testament maintains that Jesus was tempted in every way
that all humans are (Hebrews 2:28) “For in that wherein he himself hath
suffered and been tempted” (in eo enim in quo passus est ipse temptatus in
the Latin Vulgate).55 The gospels intensify the claim that Jesus may have
sweated blood during his Passion (Luke 22:44). Given the tradition that
Mary Magdalene was reputedly beautiful and desirable with ample ama-
tory experience to please a man, who better than this evolved persona of
Mary Magdalene to combine all these narrative stories together in order
to fulfill the need for one of the possibly ultimate temptation that Jesus
could face, that of a beautiful woman who sought him even if in spiri-
tual hunger? Caravaggio was likely also putting a human face on a saint,
making the Magdalene more accessible as is so frequent in all his paint-
ings of saints. At the same time, if others knew his model, sometimes ear-
lier identified as Anna Bianchini but recently disputed,56 a recognizable
55 Catholic theology concurs with Protestant on this dogma, that Christ was potuit non
peccare, “able not to sin”, cf. Bishop H.L. Martensen, Christian Dogmatics, vol. 5. (Edin-
burgh: T. & T. Clark, 1866), 284–5.
56 While prior scholars (see Varriano, note 52 below), support that Caravaggio’s
Magdalene model may be Anna Bianchini, Ebert-Schifferer has cast considerable plausible
doubt on this identification [pers. comm., Venice, April, 2010]. Also based on new archival
research, although Fillide Melandroni was almost certainly one of Caravaggio’s models,
Ebert-Schifferer also contests from new archival documentation in Rome that Melandroni
was ever Caravaggio’s lover, also calling into question several archival studies including
Corradini’s and Bassani or Bassani & Bellini’s identifications (e.g., Corradini, 1993a & b,
Bassani, 1993, and Bassani and Bellini 1993 & 1994, in bibliography) from disputed docu-
ments or without documentation. See S. Ebert-Schifferer, “Caravaggio e la cortigiana: aspetti
sociologici e problemi artistici.” in Le Caravage aujourd’hui et autres études: l’art, l’histoire,
la critique, l’émulation, l’héritage, ed. Luigi Spezzaferro, Paola Bassani, Laura de Fuccia
(Paris: Association des Historiens de l’Art Italien). The only courtesan-model-“friend” or
even possible “lover” (?) of Caravaggio established without as much debate appears to be
Maddalena (Lena) Antognetti (Antonietti), Caravaggio’s “donna” (che è donna di Michel-
angelo). Even then, Marini only acknowledges (in a recent Caravaggio study on the so-
called Madonna dei Palafrenieri) regarding courtesans that “Lena has many times reputed
to be one,” Maurizio Marini, “Senso e trascendenza nella Maddonna de Parafrenieri del
184 patrick hunt
human would be all the more clear as a tangible vessel for penitence and
redemption. Despite its dubiously conflated biblical textual narratives, the
Magdalene tradition became an important crux for transforming repen-
tance to devotion and salvation, even with its embedded innuendoes for
the sinner to saint transformation in the Magdalene persona.
Irony of Caravaggio’s Model for Magdalene
Finally, what Caravaggio offers here, instead of a completely traditional

Magdalene derived exclusively from the Golden Legend and other confla-
tions, is a possibly more biblically ekphrastic but subtle example. In an
era when “Post-Tridentine Catholicism [was] extremely concerned with
decorum and chastity in art . . .,”57 although highly debatable, some posit
Caravaggio selected as his model a putative courtesan named Anna Bian-
chini.58 This would have been a conscious rejection of Archbishop Gabri-
ele Paleotti’s 1582 rule against painting cortigiani, concubini and meretrici
(courtesans, unmarried concubines, and prostitutes) as saints and/or as
figuri nudi, especially in church-sponsored art. On the other hand, it might
have been difficult for the artist to find any other women willing to be
quiescent models. This difficulty notwithstanding, Caravaggio’s possible
irony may be apparent in his choice of model, but only if his model is in
fact a courtesan, which is difficult to establish or disprove,59 although here
the traditional Magdalene is more than acceptably repentant and has left
Caravaggio,” Artibus et Historiae 59 (2009): 135–44, esp. 140, 231. Regarding this painting,
however, Puglisi merely comments that Caravaggio’s model for Penitent Magdalene is the
“same redhead” in his painting Rest on the Flight into Egypt, 116.
57 Mormando, “Teaching the Faithful to Fly,” 117.
59 Varriano, Caravaggio: The Art of Realism, 94. Varriano notes cautiously in compar-
ing several Caravaggio canvases where prostitutes were putative models, including Fillide
Melandroni and the possibility of Anna Bianchini. Only Maddalena [Lena] Antognetti as
Madonna of Loreto (c. 1604–5) and Madonna dei Palafrenieri [of the Snake] (c. 1605–6) can
be fairly established. Puglisi, among others, notes, “Caravaggio’s ‘woman’ [donna], Lena,
evidently a prostitute” in Catherine Puglisi, “Caravaggio’s Life and Lives over four centu-
ries” in Caravaggio: Realism, Rebellion, Reception, ed. Genevieve Warwick (Newark: Uni-
versity of Delaware Press, 2006), 23–35, esp. 29 n. 45, 35. As mentioned before, supra in
note 49, Marini only admits regarding Caravaggio’s “cortigiani” that “Lena has many times
reputed to be one,” Maurizio Marini, “Senso e trascendenza nella Maddonna de Parafren-
ieri del Caravaggio,” Artibus et Historiae 59 (2009): 135–44, esp. 140 (“che è donna di Michel-
angelo” ), 231. Varriano states that “Of all these works, only the Penitent Magdalene derives
any iconographic benefit from having been modeled after a prostitute, and only then for
the artist and a very few others.”
all the trappings of her former life behind. The greater irony in the paint-
ing is that Caravaggio’s iconographic subtlety almost begged for Bellori’s
criticism by not adhering to earlier versions of the Magdalene that played
up her former role as a prostitute, instead fashioning her more convinc-
ingly as a penitent. By not even holding the perfume vessel as is generally
the case, but rather placing it at her feet—in fact proleptic for where she
would be on the ground washing Christ’s feet—Caravaggio’s Magdalene
is almost deliberately removed from centuries of tradition in showcasing
his new “unconventional”60 and iconoclastic realism.
Conclusion
Caravaggio’s Penitent Magdalene c. 1596–97 is both a product of its time,

when stringent Counter Reformation praxis dictated the representation of
female saints, as well as an innovative painting. It deviates from its prede-
cessors by depicting the Magdalene at the moment of conversion before
her putative washing of Christ’s feet in legend. While prior renditions
of the Magdalene portrayed her as either a voluptuary nude or ascetic
woman Caravaggio’s handled the narrative moment subtly. Maintaining
her traditional attributes including the perfume jar and thick, luxurious
hair, among the novel features of Caravaggio’s Penitent Magdalene are the
broken string of pearls and glass perfume flask. His brand of realism in
treating this theme encouraged seventeenth century critics like Bellori
to interpret the painting as a pretense with minimal adherence to piety
and tradition. On the contrary, Caravaggio’s memorable image expresses
an awareness of tradition in its nod to diverse literary threads, including
extracts from homilies and the Golden Legend. Moreover, in comparison
to other examples it presents possibly a closer reading of Gospel narra-
tives and exhibits only a token of Baroque sentimentality while powerful
in its evocation of contemporary detail. The context in which Caravaggio
placed his Magdalene was so visually innovative yet so clear and master-
ful that it confused Bellori as to the putative purposes and interpretation
of the painting. Caravaggio’s iconography is both traditional in the sense
of the symbols associated with the Magdalene—long hair, perfume ves-
sel and items of sumptuous luxury—but unconventional in the moment
portrayed—that of vulnerability and tearful repentance. The details of the
60 Op. cit., B.L. Brown, “Between the Sacred and the Profane,” 292.
186 patrick hunt
painting also suggest a possible ekphrastic reference to the specifics of the

Panigarola homily of the sixteenth century as well as Pietro Aretino texts.
Critics in the vein of Bellori were looking for the obvious; Caravaggio was
more interested in subtle details that would sum up the story in a differ-
ent light, especially employing idiosyncratic symbols of the Magdalene,
which were unique for the time.
If Caravaggio used a courtesan as his model for the reformed courte-
san saint, the choice would be an irony—possibly necessary61—but one
that few in his time could appreciate, especially within the church. While
the selection of a courtesan would be in keeping with his volatile and
rebellious character, his precarious early career as an artist in Rome might
make this association less likely.62 Despite contemporary church rules
(1582) against using cortigiani for female saints, his choice of a weeping
young girl is entirely apropos for the modern viewer. Caravaggio’s Penitent
Magdalene is all the more memorable and timeless because of the subtle
yet detailed reality of its sitter at her moment of conversion, juxtaposed
with the abandonment of her former sinful life in all its immediacy just
prior to her act of devotion that formed the basis for Magdalene iconog-
raphy in art.
61 Ebert-Schifferer, 2010, since models were costly and “difficult to obtain with the
exception of prostitutes and the wife of the artist” note 2.
62 Hunt, Caravaggio, 42, 44, 46, 49–54, 64–67, 92–100 and 107.
Part Three

Chapter Seven
The Gaze in the Garden:

Mary Magdalene in Noli me tangere1
Barbara Baert
Perhaps no other utterance by Christ has been the subject of as much

discussion by the first Church Fathers as ‘Noli me tangere.’ Spoken to Mary
Magdalene upon her recognition of him after the resurrection, what did
this phrase actually mean? Frequently represented in the art of the Mid-
dle Ages and Renaissance, how did the scene of the Noli me tangere shape
the reception of the Magdalene in the Middle Ages? In considering the
iconography of the Noli me tangere the point of departure is the relation-
ship between the scene’s textual source, exegesis, and its representation.
Focusing on the relationship between word and image, the first part of this
essay examines the perception of physicality and the corporeal boundaries
between the genders in Martin Schongauer’s engraving of the Noli me tan-
gere (1475–1480) (fig. 7.1). A closer reading of this images also reveals the
essential features of the Noli me tangere, including the ‘threshold between
two worlds’ and the ‘compensatory gaze.’2 The second part of this essay
will explore the genesis of the Noli me tangere in iconography and identify
the highlights of cyclical iconography in the fourteenth and fifteenth cen-
turies in Italy. Thus, the Mary Magdalene of the Noli me tangere becomes
a case study for the cultural historiography of functional and contextual
shifts in the western European perception of the ban on touching and the
impact of this ban on the dominant medieval views on the appearance of
Christ. Finally, a comparative examination of the character of the Noli me
1 This article was written in the context of the international research project Mary
Magdalene and the Touching of Jesus. An Intra- and Interdisciplinary Investigation of the
Interpretation of John 20, 17 in Exegesis, Iconography and Pastoral Care, of the Fonds voor
Wetenschappelijk Onderzoek—Vlaanderen (2004–9), which involved in addition to the
author, Reimund Bieringer, Karlijn Demasure and Ine Van Den Eynde. I am obliged to our
scientific staff member Liesbet Kusters and Emma Sidgwick.
2 Paris, Musée du Petit Palais, inv. dutuit 8632; Staatliche Kunsthalle, Karlsruhe; Sophie
Renouare de Bussierre, Martin Schongauer. Maître de la gravure Rhénane, vers 1450–1491
(Paris: Musée du Petit Palais, 1991), 160; A. Hyatt Mayor, Prints and People (New York: Met-
ropolitan Museum of Art, 1971), cat. no. 455–60; Alan Shestack, Fifteenth Century Engrav-
ings of Northern Europe (Washington: National Gallery of Art, 1967).
190 barbara baert
Fig. 7.1. Martin Schongauer, Noli me tangere, 1475–1480, burin engraving. British

Museum, London. Photo: British Museum, London.
tangere in Italy and the Low Countries forms the basis for new interpreta-
tions of the iconographic characteristics of the image.
Word and Image
‘Noli me tangere,’ one of the most significant Gospel passages, has had
a complex history in exegetical writings. John 20:11–18 describes Mary
Magdalene’s desire to embalm Christ’s body and her discovery of an
empty grave.3 Two angels ask her, “Woman, why weepest thou?” Mary
3 The text mentions ‘Mary.’ Here, for clarity, I will use Mary Magdalene, the name and
person handed down by tradition (see below).
the gaze in the garden 191
Magdalene replies, “Because they have taken away my Lord.” Then she
turns around, seeing a gardener, who asks her: “Woman, why weepest
thou?” Mary Magdalene begs, “Sir, if thou have borne him hence, tell me
where thou hast laid him, and I will take him away.” The man answers,
“Mary.” She turns around once again and recognizes the man: “Rabboni! ”
To which Christ replies, in the famous verse 17, “Touch me not” (Noli me
tangere). He goes on to explain that he has not yet returned to the Father.
Finally, he asks Mary Magdalene to tell the apostles what she saw.
It is important to recognize that the original language of this text was
Greek. According the Greek texts, Christ’s words to Mary Magdalene were
written as me mou haptou.4 In the Greek language the infinitive haptein
implies not only the physical act of touching, but also the metaphorical
sense of ‘do not cling to me.’ This conjugation also implies an action that
takes place over time: in essence, stop doing what you are doing. In the
Vulgate translation the phrase Noli me tangere replaced me mou haptou,
shifting the original meaning of the Greek phrase. In the west, this shift
greatly affected the visual representations of the scene as the emphasis
was placed on the physical connotations of “touch me not.” In visual rep-
resentations of the Noli me tangere episode, the tactility of the phrase
became an essential ingredient. Along with the Greek phrase, the Latin
is linguistically complex. Nolere is the infinitive of ‘to not wish.’ What the
Latin really says is therefore ‘Do not wish to touch me.’ In other words,
Noli me tangere refers to the demand to stop the desire to touch under the
given circumstances. The desire that must yield then becomes an underly-
ing emotion in the iconography.
The reason behind Christ’s prohibition on touching has been an issue
of debate in the history of the interpretation of the Noli me tangere.5 In
John 20:17, Christ himself offered a possible explanation in the gospel
text, ‘for I am not yet ascended to my Father.’ Medieval and early modern
exegesis on the authority of Augustine (354–430), accepted that Noli me
4 For an introduction to the exegetic and linguistic complexity, including the most bib-
liography, see Reimund Bieringer, “Mary Magdalene in the Four Gospels,” The Bible Today
43 (2005): 34–41 and Reimund Bieringer, “Noli me tangere and the New Testament: an
exegetical approach,” in Noli me tangere. Mary Magdalene: One Person, Many Images, ed.
Barbara Baert et al., (Leuven: Peeters, 2006), 13–28.
5 For historical-exegetic studies of John 20: 17, see Anthony Dupont and Ward Depril,
“Marie-Madeleine et Jean 20,17 dans la literature patristique latine,” Augustiniana 56
(2006): 159–82; Richard Atwood, Mary Magdalene in the New Testament Gospels and Early
Tradition (Bern: Lang, 1993), 147–218; R. Nürnberg, “Apostolae Apostolorum. Die Frauen
am Grab als erste Zeuginnen der Auferstehung in der Väterexegese,“ Jahrbuch für Antike
und Christentum 23 (1996): 228–42.
192 barbara baert
tangere was an explicit statement of the transformation of the belief in

Christ as a human being into the belief in Christ as God.6 According to this
interpretation, the paired concepts of touching/non-touching correspond
to the double nature of Christ. The risen, and therefore, divine body is out
of bounds.7 The statement ‘Noli me tangere’ signifies both the arrival and
return of God. Thus, the Noli me tangere positions the body of Christ from
the viewpoint of an anthropology of the incarnation, the cycle of salvation
and the divine aura.8
The first exegetes also recognized a gender issue in the paired con-
cepts of touching/non-touching.9 According to Ambrose of Milan (d. 397),
Mary Magdalene was prohibited from touching Christ because, at that
moment, she lacked the capacity to grasp Christ in his risen and divine
form.10 Additionally, he extrapolated from Noli me tangere, the phrase
noli manum adhibere maioribus: a prohibition on teaching. He connected
Mary Magdalene of John 20 with Eve, considering it logical that the first
person to see the Risen Christ would be a woman, since it was a woman
who committed the first sin. The Magdalene’s proclamation of Christ’s
Resurrection to the apostles was, therefore, reparation for the first sin
6 Sermo 246 and his Epistola 120; Augustinus, “Epistola 120,” in Letters 100–155, ed.
Roland J. Teske and Ramsey Boniface (Hyde Park: New City Press, 2003), 129–40, esp. 137.
This line of reasoning was followed in Epistula 50 by Paulinus of Nola (355–431); Paulinus
Nolanus, “Epistula 50,” in Epistulae. Paulinus von Nola. Ueberzetzt und ungeleited von Mat-
thias Skeb, ed Matthias Skeb, vol. 25/3 of Fontes Christiani (Freiburg: Herder, 1998), 1042–75,
esp. 1067.
7 Of course, this point of view contrasts with the passage of John 20: 24–31, where
Thomas does touch the body of the Risen Christ. When Thomas touches the wound, he
feels and believes on the basis of a touch that satisfies him. The story of Thomas relies on
the verification principle of the tactile sense and the testis argument, of which there are
variations. The men of Emmaus do not recognise Christ by his voice, nor by touch, but
by the dramatic action of the breaking of the bread (see fig. 7.2). Mary Magdalene already
believed (why would she need to touch?), but she still had to integrate the insight into
the cycle of the Resurrection by renouncing an overly narrow physical concept: the human
body of Christ. Noli me tangere is therefore more than the story of Thomas, because the
first passage also explicates the meaning of the incarnation. For a further elaboration, see
Sandra M. Schneiders, “Touching the Risen Jesus: Mary Magdalene and Thomas the Twin
in John 20,” Proceedings of the Catholic Theological Society of America 61 (2006): 13–35.
8 These reflections are continued by Jean-Luc Nancy, Noli me tangere. Essai sur la levée
du corps (Paris: Bayard, 2003), 28: ‘ce qui ne doit pas être touché, c’est le corps ressuscité.’
9 Harold W. Attridge, “ ‘Don’t be touching me:’ recent feminist scholarship on Mary
Magdalene,” in A Feminist Companion to John, ed. Amy-Jill Levine and Marianne Blicken-
staff (New York: Sheffield Academic Press, 2003), 140–66.
10 Ambrosius Mediolanensis, “Expositio evangelii secundum Lucam,” in vol. 14 of Cor-
pus Christianorum Series Latina (Turnhout: Brepols, 1957), 345–400, esp. 383–200.
committed by Eve.11 Elsewhere, Ambrose compared the Noli me tangere

to a gate that is still too narrow for the female capacity to believe in the
Resurrection.12 When the body is considered from an anthropological
viewpoint of the incarnation, the cycle of salvation and the divine aura,
the Noli me tangere identifies the female gender with the taboo on touch-
ing. Christ’s ban on touching had to occur to provide the female gender
with the ability to comprehend the physical concept of the Resurrection
and the Risen Christ.
Hippolytus of Rome (d. 235) proposed a less demeaning interpretation
of the Noli me tangere for women. He connected John 20:17 with the Song
of Songs 3:1–4.13 Just like Martha, Mary is the apostola apostolorum sent by
Christ to redeem Eve’s sin. Mary Magdalene is Ecclesia, the proclaimer of
salvation, or the New Eve. She seeks her bridegroom as the Church seeks
her faithful. In short, the woman of the Noli me tangere is also the woman
who is elected to receive an insight into the incarnation, the cycle of salva-
tion, and the divine aura. The paradox of Mary Magdalene in the Noli me
tangere is therefore that both taboo and election fell on her.
Moving into the realm of late medieval art, it becomes obvious that
visual images developed their own conventions for representing the Noli
me tangere when compared to the original Gospel passages and exegeti-
cal writings. Martin Schongauer’s engraving of the Noli me tangere is rep-
resentative of the discrepancies that occurred between word and image.
In Schongauer’s representation, Mary Magdalene and Christ exchange
glances in a garden. Their gazes interlock while their hands engage in a
reserved, non-touching interplay. Schongauer positions both of the fig-
ures’ right hands on a vertical axis that cuts exactly through the middle of
the composition. This central axis is rhythmically emphasized by the jar
of ointment and the withered tree.14 Mary Magdalene is kneeling on the
11 Per os mulieris mors ante processerat, per os mulieris vita reparatur.
12 De fide libri V ad Gratianum Augustum, 4, 2; Ambrosius Mediolanensis, “De fide ad
Gratianum,” in vol. 47/1 of Fontes Christiani (Freiburg: Herder, 2005), 212.
13 In canticum canticorum 25, 2, 45; Gérard Garitte, Traités d’Hippolyte sur David et Goli-
ath, sur le cantique des cantiques et sur l’ antéchrist—version Géorgienne, vol. 264 of Corpus
scriptorum christianorum Orientalium (Leuven: Secretariat du Corpus SCO, 1965), 45–49;
see also Victor Saxer, “Marie Madeleine dans le commentaire d’Hippolyte sur le cantique
des cantiques,” Revue bénédictine 101 (1991): 219–39.
14 The tree is a pars pro toto for the context of the garden where the scene took place.
But the tree can also have a symbolic meaning. From the early centuries of Christian-
ity, the tree is seldom a neutral motif in religious iconography. It evokes paradise, with
both the Tree of Life and the Tree of Good and Evil, and it evokes the heavenly Jerusalem
194 barbara baert
edge of a small rise, slightly above the ground where Christ is standing.
Regardless of the narrow distance between Christ and Mary Magdalene,
with his left foot turned out he seems to move away from her along a
descending path. Further emphasizing the separation between the two
figures is the jagged line of the hill on which the Magdalene kneels. In the
analysis of the composition of Schongauer’s Noli me tangere, it becomes
evident that the artist wanted to communicate a feeling of ‘separation’
on the one hand, while simultaneously emphasizing the words of Noli me
tangere in the Gospel by focusing on the figures’ hands.
The metaphor of the ‘threshold’ that separates the two characters is
an interesting key to the visual structure of the Noli me tangere. The Noli
me tangere shows the borderline between two bodies, between a man
and a woman, but at the same time, it affirms a transformation. On the
threshold of the Noli me tangere, the transforming body reveals itself, ‘for
I am not yet ascended to my Father.’ Finally, the threshold itself lies at
the level of temporal perception. For the Noli me tangere stands at the
gate of Christ’s departure, of his eternal fusion with God. The philosopher
and Derrida expert Zsuzsa Baross commented on this aspect of the Noli
me tangere, ‘The impossible, glorious mad scenario that unfolds in John’s
Gospel as stage takes place right on the limit, on the threshold of the
empty tomb, but also of time, of death.’15
Along with the threshold, the visual language of the Noli me tangere is
mostly a matter of hands. In the pairs of hands, the desire and the prohi-
bition lay in a single zone. As in the engraving by Schongauer, the hands
often constitute the compositional center of the Noli me tangere scene,
‘the central tension of the image’ is what Georges Didi-Huberman calls
this zone.16 The almost-touching takes place in the deictic void.17 There,
where the Tree of Life returns. The Church Fathers considered Christ’s cross to be a refer-
ence to both trees. In the context of Mary Magdalene, the tree clarifies the typology with
Eve. Petrus Chrysologus (d. c. 450) formulated a connection between the tree and the Holy
Sepulchre, between Eve and Mary Magdalene. The tree remains a compositional element
throughout the history of the development of the Noli me tangere; Stephen Jerome Reno,
The Sacred Tree as an Early Christian Literary Symbol. A Phenomenological Study (Saar-
brücken: Homo et religio, 1978), 106, and passim.
15 Z. Baross, “Noli me tangere for Jacques Derrida,” Angelaki. Journal of the theoretical
humanities 6/2 (1999): 149–64, esp. 154.
16 Georges Didi-Huberman, Fra Angelico, Dissemblance and Figuration (Chicago: Uni-
versity of Chicago Press, 1995), 14.
17 This is the hand that withdraws and indicates at the same time. Jean-Luc Nancy, The
Birth to Presence, trans. B. Holmes et al. (Stanford: Stanford University Press, 1993), 275,
therefore redefines the Noli me tangere as a Noli me frangere.
in the pulsating lacuna of hands that seek and recede is where the mys-
terious merger of speech and gaze takes place. Noli me tangere is an ico-
nography of direct speech. It derives its title directly from the spoken
word. The visualization of these three words represents a given moment
in time. Images must convey the emotional impact of the prohibition on
touching to the spectator in a single glance. The physical pathos discussed
above plays a crucial role in this. Where the tactile sense is barred, sight
is heightened. La main est parfois comparée à l’œil: elle voit.18 The ban on
touching conserves energy for the gaze. ‘Touch me not’ echoes in ‘Touch
me with your eyes.’ For these reasons, Schongauer stressed the eye con-
tact between Mary Magdalene and Christ and positioned their hands near
one another but not touching. Hands and eyes mirror one another in the
iconography.
The gaze became one of the most significant features of representations
of the Noli me tangere. The exchange of looks between Mary Magdalene
and Christ encompasses different perceptions of the body, or different
sequences narrated in chapter 20 of the Gospel of John. Which body does
Mary Magdalene see successively? She sees the gardener, whom she does
not identify as an individual. She recognizes her Rabboni and wants to
touch him. And finally, in the Noli me tangere she is able to behold the Son
who is returning to the Father.
Significantly, Schongauer’s engraving represents Christ with the stig-
mata. While this detail is not mentioned in texts, it brings additional
meaning to visual images of the Noli me tangere. Along with the stig-
mata, the vexillum of the Resurrection that he carries infers that he is
neither the gardener nor Rabboni, but the risen Christ: the third moment
of beholding and recognition (and not the two former moments of see-
ing and recognizing). In the tradition of the Noli me tangere iconography,
this third manifestation of Christ is prominent, although hybrid forms are
found, and, in particular, on the eve of modernity, we see a revaluation of
the ‘human’ Christ as the gardener and/or as Rabboni.
The Genesis of “Noli me tangere” Iconography
In the visual analysis of Martin Schongauer’s engraving, a number of

notable characteristics of the Noli me tangere emerge, including the
18 J. Chevalier and A. Gheerbrant, “Main,” in Dictionnaire des symboles (Paris: R. Laffont,
2002), 599–603, esp. 602.
196 barbara baert
insight-generating gaze and the three different ways of perceiving. How

these iconographical features evolved in the development of the Noli
me tangere theme is an important question to consider. The subsequent
exploration of the development of the Noli me tangere iconography con-
siders whether or not the problems associated with the body and gender
can be positioned on a historic timeline.
While the origins and pervasiveness of Noli me tangere imagery is
still being investigated, scholarship has established that the subject first
appeared in the tenth century.19 Before this time, the story of the Resur-
rection was represented in other manners. A common way to visualize the
Resurrection, evident in an ivory from Munich (c. 400), was by depicting
two or three myrrhophores or myrrh-bearers at the tomb (Mark 16:1–8,
19 An exception would be a disputable Noli me tangere on the so-called Brivio cap-
sella (a silver reliquary) from the early Christian period and preserved in Paris, Musée
du Louvre; see; Galit Noga-Banai, The Trophies of the Martyrs: An Art Historical Study of
Early Christian Silver Reliquaries (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2008), 38–61, fig. 3. The
following monographs have not been published: Anna Trotzig, “Christus Resurgens Appa-
ret Mariae Magdalena. En ikonografisk studie med tonvikt pa motivets framställning in den
tidiga medeltidens konst,” (PhD diss., University of Stockholm, 1973); M. LaRow, “The Ico-
nography of Mary Magdalene. The Evolution in Western Tradition until 1300,” (PhD diss.,
New York University, 1982); M. Lehmann, “Die Darstellungen des Noli me tangere in der
italienischen Kunst vom 12. bis ins 16. Jahrhundert. Eine ikonographische Studie,” (PhD diss,
s.l., 1988); C.L. Robertson, “Gender relations and the Noli me tangere scene in Renaissance
Italy,“ (PhD diss., University of Ottowa, 1993). With permission from the author, we were
able to consult Lisa Marie Rafanelli, “The Ambiguity of Touch. Saint Mary Magdalene and
the ‘Noli me Tangere’ in Early Modern Italy,” (PhD diss., New York University, 2004). The
emphasis of this study is on the 15th and 16th centuries in Italy. For the published studies
consult Gertrud Schiller, Die Auferstehung und Erhöhung Christi, vol. 3 of Ikonographie der
christlichen Kunst (Mohn: Gütersloh, 1971), 88–98; Marilena Mosco et al., La Maddalena
tra Sacro e Profano. Da Giotto a De Chirico (Firenze: La casa USHER Arnoldo Mondadori
editore, 1986), 135–145, discusses examples from the 15th century; Lilia Sebastiani, Tra/
sfigurazione. Il personaggio evangelico di Maria di Magdala e il mito dell peccatrice redenta
nella tradizione occidentale (Brescia: Queriniana, 1992), 240, erroneously states that the
Noli me tangere had an invariabile iconography; Susan Haskins, Mary Magdalen. Myth and
Metaphor (London: Harper Collins, 1993) offers a Wirkungsgeschichte of the figure, with
attention to the visual arts, but does not treat the Noli me tangere iconography; Daniel
Arasse, “L’excès des images,” in L’apparition à Marie-Madeleine, ed. Marianne Alphant et al.
(Paris: Desclée de Brouwer, 2001), 79–126 offers aesthetic reflections on the Titianesque
Noli me tangere; Diana Apostolos-Cappadonna, In Search of Mary Magdalene. Images and
Traditions (New York: Museum of Biblical Art, 2002) studies later examples of the Noli
me tangere; In Barbara Baert, “Touching with the Gaze A Visual Analysis of the Noli me
tangere,” in Noli me tangere. Mary Magdalene: One Person, Many Images, ed. Barbara Baert
(Leuven: Peeters, 2006), 43–52, aspects of the text-image relationship are confronted with
exegesis; In Barbara Baert, “Noli me tangere. Six Exercises in Image Theory and Icono-
philia,” Image and Narrative (2007), the notion of the gaze in the Noli me tangere is viewed
from the perspective of image theory.
Fig. 7.2. Ivory with the three Myrrhophores, c. 400. Bayerischen Nationalmuseum,

Munich.
Matt. 28:1–8 and Luke 24:1–12) (fig. 7.2).20 In other early images of the
Resurrection Christ was depicted appearing to the Chairete or the Holy
Women from Matthew 28:9–10 (fig. 7.3).21
The first unanimously accepted Noli me tangere appeared in the Codex
Egberti, an Ottonian manuscript that was illustrated in Reichenau in the
20 See Kunst und Kunsthandwerk. Meisterwerke im Bayerischen Nationalmuseum,

München, 1855–1955 (Munich: Verlag F. Bruckmann, 1955), cat. no. 3; Christophe Stiege-
mann and Matthias Wemhoff, ed., 799. Kunst und Kultur der Karolingerzeit. Karl der Grosse
und Papst Leo III in Paderborn (Mainz am Rhein: von Zabern, 1999), vol. 2, cat. no. X.2.
21 As on the Apostle Sarcophagus from the same period. The sarcophagus is lost, but
still known through a 17th-century engraving in A. Bosio, Roma Sotterranea (1651) and
Paolo Aringhi, Roma subterranea novissima (Coloniae, 1659 (facsimile)); see also Rafanelli,
“The Ambiguity,” 372, cat. no. 3, fig. 4.
198 barbara baert
Fig. 7.3. So-called Apostle Sarcophagus with Chairete, c. 400. Known from the
17th-century engraving in A. Bosio, Roma Sotterranea, 1651 and Paolo Aringhi,
Roma subterranea novissima, 1659 (facsimile).
tenth century (fig. 7.4).22 The miniature depicts the corresponding text of
John’s Gospel (20:11–18) on the verso of the illuminated folio 90. Situated
in a manuscript there is a direct correspondence between the correspond-
ing Gospel passage and the image. Moreover, the inscription placed above
the female figure reads ‘Maria’, explicitly referring Christ’s mention of her
name in John’s Gospel. In the Egberti minianture, a slender tree divides
the composition. On the left is a simple tomb flanked by two angels, each
of which holds a staff. The shroud lies in the empty hollow of the tomb.
Mary Magdalene kneels at the foot of the tree as she stretches out both
arms towards Christ’s feet. Holding a book in his left hand, Christ bends
toward Mary Magdalene while pointing at her.23 Christ is splendidly
clothed, wearing a white tunic trimmed in gold.
22 Trier, Stadtbibliothek, codex 24, fol. 91; Hubert Schiel, Codex Egberti der Stadtbiblio-
thek Trier (Basel: Alkuin-Verlag, 1960); Franz J. Ronig, “Erläuterungen zu den Miniaturen
des Egbert Codex,” in Der Egbert Codex. Das Leben Jesu. Ein Höhepunkt der Buchmalerei vor
1000 Jahren, ed. Sif Dagmar Dornheim (Stuttgart: Theiss, 2005), 78.
23 The composition was copied in the Pericopes (Perikopenbuch) of Henry II, Echter-
nach, 1040—Bremen, Staatsbibliothek, ms. 621; Trotzig, “Christus resurgens,” fig. 10.
Fig. 7.4. Noli me tangere, Codex Egberti, Reichenau, c. 977–993. Stadtbibliothek,

Trier, codex 24, fol. 91.
The artist of the Egberti Noli me tangere relied on earlier images in his
representation of the scene. Evident in a comparison of earlier scenes of
the Resurrection, particularly the version featuring the holy women, Mary
Magdalene’s kneeling posture and her outstretched hands were inherited
from the early Christian Chairete model. Influenced by this Chairete pro-
totype, the Noli me tangere adopts a visual formulation that was originally
inspired by a different passage from the Bible, namely Matthew 28:9–10.
The Gospel of John, however, makes no mention of Mary Magdalene
kneeling or throwing herself at Christ’s feet. Moreover, John’s Gospel
does not contain any explicit indication that the two figures stood facing
200 barbara baert
each other. Quite the opposite, it describes a complex physical maneuver

in which the Magdalene turns her body, not once, but twice.24 The early
Christian Resurrection iconography had a great influence on the develop-
ment of the Noli me tangere iconography. The Codex Egberti constitutes
the moment when the Noli me tangere emerges as a distinct theme from
an older iconographic and compositional pattern.
One convention established in the Egberti miniature is the contrast
between the prostrate woman and the dominant, tall figure of Christ.
This new feature reflected not only earlier artistic representations but
also new theological beliefs concerning Mary Magdalene that developed
in the sixth and ninth centuries, respectively. In the Merovingian period,
a decisive phenomenon occurred: the conflation of Mary Magdalene with
other biblical figures. In his sermon of September 21, 591 in the church of
San Clemente in Rome, Gregory the Great (560–604) identified for the
first time, the Mary of the Gospel of St John as the sinner of Luke 7: 36–50
and the woman from whom Christ cast out seven demons in Mark 16:9.25
This fusion by Gregory the Great gave Mary Magdalene more roles in lit-
erature: a repentant sinner, Martha’s sister, and witness to the Resurrec-
tion. There is speculation as to the reasons for this identification, which
was presumably premeditated.26 In addition to linking various episodes to
a single character the tropological effect of this newly composed woman
probably played a role in Gregory’s decision to conflate the different
Marys of the Bible. As a result of Gregory’s conflation Mary Magdalene
possessed the qualities both of a sinner and of a convert, and also was a
witness of the raising from the dead (both Lazarus and Christ). In other
words, Christianity presented an image of woman that contained sin, pen-
ance, and hope in a single formula of salvation. It is precisely this richness
and complexity that earned Mary Magdalene her medieval devotion.27
24 On that dynamics and its repercussions for the Noli me tangere iconography from the
15th century onwards see M. Prado, “The Subject of Savoldo’s Magdalene,” The Art Bulletin
71/1 (1989): 67–91; Klaus Krüger, Das Bild als Schleier des Unsichtbaren. Ästhetische Illusion
in der Kunst der frühen Neuzeit in Italien (Munich: Fink, 2001), 104.
25 Gregorius Magnus, Homiliae in Evangelia, hom. 33; Gregor der Grosse, Homiliae
in evangelia. Evangelienhomilien, trans. M. von Friedraeder, vol. 28 of Fontes Christiani
(Freiburg: Herder, 1998), 616–39.
26 Katherine Ludwig Jansen, The Making of the Magdalen. Preaching and Popular Devo-
tion in Later Middle Ages (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1999), 32–35.
27 For literature studies on the Mary Magdalene topoi in medieval traditions, see
Bram Rossano, “Die deutschen und niederländischen Bearbeitungen der Pseudo-
Origines-Magdalenenklage,“ Beiträge zur Geschichte der deutschen Sprache und Literatur
126/2 (2004): 233–260; Bram Rossano, “gebristed ir doch des kroenlîns. Die Sündhaftigkeit
und Virginität der Maria Magdalena in der mittelalterlichen Literatur, bes. bei Berthold
Starting from the early Middle Ages, the Mary Magdalene of the Noli me
tangere is more than the anonymous Mary in the Gospel of John; she also
became the repentant sinner in Luke. The conflation of Mary Magdalene
deeply affected the perceptions of the viewer. The prostrate woman of the
Noli me tangere was also the woman overcome by grief and remorse.
Mary Magdalene, Noli me tangere and the Cyclical

Iconography in Italy
Playing a key role in Italian murals and cycles, the symbolic meaning and
devotional character of the Noli me tangere underwent transformations.
Illustrating these shifts in meaning, Puccio di Simone’s fresco from 1340 in
the Santa Trinità in Florence is considered the oldest autonomous Noli me
tangere on a large scale (fig. 7.5).28 Painted in a vault of the Strozzi family’s
chapel, which was dedicated to Saint Lucia, the Magdalene is presented
kneeling before Christ. Here, the Magdalene appears in a red gown and
her long, golden blond hair falls loosely. Christ, dressed in a white tunic,
moves dramatically away from her. Although postured as retreating, his
thumb almost touches Mary Magdalene’s index finger. Indicative of his
von Regensburg,” Mediaevistik 18 (2005): 209–34. The salvation formula mentioned here
was at its height in the 13th century, following the institution of the annual confession
(1215, Innocent III, Fourth Lateran Council) and the mendicant orders who preached this
praxis. Basic literature: Jansen, The Making of the Magdalen, 199–246; Katherine Ludwig
Jansen, “Mary Magdalene and the Mendicants. The Preaching of Penance in the Late
Middle Ages,” The Journal of Medieval History 21/1 (1995): 1–25; T. Renna, “Mary Magdalen
in the Thirteenth Century,” Papers of the Michigan Academy of Science, Arts, and Letters
30/1 (1998): 59–68. On the basis of the Gregorian contraction and the salvation formula
mentioned above, Mary Magdalene became the subject of a lacrymology. She cries out of
love and she cries out of remorse. Weeping is a ‘salvation condition’ that leads to purifi-
cation. Women were thought to have easier access to this condition, on account of their
‘humid nature.’ This hides an ambivalence: the Mary Magdalene schema of the lacrymol-
ogy puts the woman in the moisture of tears as a laudable quality, but at the same time,
she is isolated, and sometimes even limited to play a pertinent part in soteriology. On
this issue see Barbara Newmann, From Virile Woman to Woman Christ. Studies in Medieval
Religion and Literature (Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press, 1995), 172–78; Piro-
ska Nagy, Le don des larmes aux moyen âge (Paris: Editions Albin Michel, 2000), 388–412;
Diana Apostolos-Cappadona, “Pray with tears and your request will find hearing. On the
Iconography of the Magdalene’s tears,” in Holy Tears. Weeping and the Religious Imagi-
nation, ed. Kimberley Patton and John Stratton Hawley (New York: Princeton University
Press, 2005), 201–28.
28 Rafanelli, “The Ambiguity,” 159–164, cat. no. 26; Eve Borsook, The Mural Painters of
Tuscany from Cimabue to Andrea del Sarto (Oxford: Clarendon, 1980), 41. There is a strong
affinity with the Giottesque Noli me tangere in the Cappela scrovegini in Padua, Rafanelli,
“The Ambiguity,” 146.
202 barbara baert
Fig. 7.5. Puccio di Simone, Noli me tangere, 1340. Santa Trinità, Florence.
disguise as a gardener Christ is carrying a rake in his other hand. To the

left, an open tomb is visible. The backdrop for the scene is a dark forest,
which prevents the viewer from seeing into distant space.
The innovative iconography, which includes the stark setting and plain
garb of Mary Magdalene reveals the influence of the mendicant orders.
Her loose hair refers, with deliberate ambiguity, both to her sinful past and
to her later life as a hermit.29 She is characterized as the beata peccatrix.
Christ is not wearing a shroud, but a tunic, as in the Ottonian examples.
The rake is feature new to images of this time period and makes reference
to the verse in which Mary Magdalene takes him for the gardener. On the
29 Rafanelli, “The Ambiguity,” 162.

other hand, this attribute of Christ’s contributes to the paradise topos.

The rural atmosphere evokes Christ as the Adam novus, and consequently
Mary Magdalene as the Eva nova.
The almost touching fingers radiate an extraordinary force. On the one
hand, this moment makes clear both the inevitability of the departure and
the inviolability of the resurrected body. On the other hand, as the visual
centre, it shines with an almost life-giving force.30 Demonstrated in this
representation, the hands remain important ingredients in the iconogra-
phy of the scene and reflect the scene’s textual basis. The Noli me tangere
contains the promise of reunion and of reincarnation. As the persona of
the one who is left behind, Mary Magdalene is also the bringer of the good
news of salvation, hope and enlightenment. In the context of a funerary
chapel for the Strozzi family, the iconography of the scene and its mean-
ing was appropriate. Puccio di Simone’s fresco was formative for another
important fresco: the Noli me tangere (c. 1445) by Fra Angelico (1395–1455)
in Cell 1 of the San Marco monastery (fig. 7.6).31 Once again, we see Mary
Magdalene donning a red dress with unbound hair and kneeling before
Christ. Although Christ’s face still looks in her direction, his body and feet
have already turned away in departure. Although similar to Puccio’s inter-
pretation of the scene, Fra Angelico has subdued the interaction between
Mary Magdalene and Christ and elaborated on the scene’s background
setting. The lawn is dotted with flowers and there is a hedge between the
foreground and the forest beyond. Supporting the references to Adam and
Eve in Puccio’s fresco, the lushness of the garden and the hedge suggest
the enclosed garden and the Garden of Eden.
An informed reading of Fra Angelico’s Noli me tangere is also depen-
dent on Dominican spirituality.32 The cell containing the Noli me tan-
gere is located exactly at the intersection of the eastern and the northern
wing of the monastery. This is the location separating the corridor for the
clergy and the guest accommodations for laymen. The cell with the Noli
30 The 14th-century Tuscan Vita Maria Magdalenae stresses the exceptionally chosen
love between Christ and Mary Magdalene; Valentina Hawtrey, Life of Saint Mary Magdalene
(London: Kessinger Publishing, 2007), 76.
31 Didi-Huberman, Fra Angelico, passim.
32 Rafanelli, “The Ambiguity,” 168–78; Didi-Huberman, Fra Angelico, 14–22, 163. In the
Noli me tangere scene, in contrast to the other cells in the clergy hall (cells 2 to 11), no
Dominican is represented. William Hood, Fra Angelico at San Marco (New Haven: Yale
University Press, 1993), 199–200, therefore surmises that this cell belonged to the master
of the laymen, he who was charged with training the laymen and dividing tasks between
the enclosed monks and those who were active in the broader world.
204 barbara baert
Fig. 7.6. Fra Angelico, Noli me tangere, c. 1445, fresco. San Marco, Florence.
me tangere lies at the threshold between the two missions of the Domini-
cans: study in clausura, and teaching in public.33 This boundary position is
embodied by Mary Magdalene herself, who was simultaneously the apos-
tle of the Resurrection and the repentant sinner. Demonstrated in Puccio
33 Didi-Huberman, Fra Angelico, 14–22, sees a connection between the Noli me tangere
in cell 1 and the Annunciation in cell 31. Not only are the two frescoes connected by their
physical proximity, the cyclical development from the beginning to the completion of the
incarnation is expressed in an analogous color palette and flora.
di Simone’s fresco the context of the Noli me tangere partially determined

the manner in which the Magdalene was characterized. With respect to
Fra Angelico’s fresco, the Noli me tangere was a spiritual example that
distinguished the Dominicans from other orders. The Dominican process
of identification with a woman served to enhance the social and spiritual
status and influence of Mary Magdalene in Italy, particularly her identifi-
cation as a societal outcast.34 Mary Magdalene’s roles of converted sinner
and hermit dominated her vita and remained more popular than the Noli
me tangere motif throughout the Italian Trecento and Quattrocento.
Noli me tangere in the Netherlands and Germany:

A Comparative Study
Through an examination of Puccio di Simone’s and Fra Angelico’s repre-

sentation of the Noli me tangere, it is evident that their context shaped
the iconography of the scene. Especially in Italy, Mary Magdalene became
an exemplar for the mendicants, shifting the emphasis from her life as an
ascetic to that of a repentant sinner. What shifts took place in the Noli me
tangere iconography outside of Italy is also significant.
North of the Alps, Mary Magdalene was not unequivocally praised as the
penitent sinner of Luke or the hermit of Sainte-Baume in literary sources.
From the second half of the thirteenth century, the Noli me tangere
appeared in the context of texts made for pious women. The Conversio
beatae Mariae Magdalenae, which was distributed in Middle Dutch and
in Low German from the thirteenth century onwards, reflects the percep-
tion of Mary Magdalene at that time.35 In this discourse, Mary Magdalene
is presented as a beautiful, secular woman, who converted to Christianity
after learning of Jesus from her sister Martha. Her conversion is dramatic.
She confesses that she is a prostitute and also calls herself a leprosa. The
next day, she sees Christ in the flesh, and meets his gaze (117), a gaze that
wounds her (Song 4:9). Later, she visits Christ at the house of Simon the
Pharisee, where she washes his feet and speaks to him.
The strong emphasis on love in this text was influenced by courtly
mysticism. The thirteenth-century Brabant mystic Hadewych described
how Mary Magdalene was her favorite role model, since she had such
34 Rafanelli, “The Ambiguity,” 178.

35 H. Hansel, Die Maria-Magdalena-Legende. Eine Quellen-Untersuchung, 16/1 (Greifs
wald: Universität Greifswald, 1937), note 28.
206 barbara baert
a strong love for Christ.36 It was understandable that Mary Magdalene

became a role model for the beguines. The beguines, who were active in
the Low Countries and the Rhineland in the thirteenth and fourteenth
centuries, were lay religious groups of women who lived in communities
without taking formal vows. The presence of these communities influ-
enced the spiritual devotion of love in the North. For those rather ‘free’
and mostly intellectual women, Mary Magdalene personified the shun-
ning of the worldly life for the spiritual love of God.37 This facet of the
Magdalene greatly contributed to her expanded roles in this time period.
At the beginning of the thirteenth century, for example, Caesarius of Heis-
terbach discussed the Magdalene’s appeal to all types of women.38 She
was the patroness of widows, the third matrone, along with the Virgin
Mary and Saint Anne. She was even a virgin, because she had regained
that purity by her washing tears.39 And she was Christ’s bride.40 In short,
this list shows that in the North Mary Magdalene was type-casted with
nearly every female role.
Jean de Vitry’s vita of Mary of Oignies (1215), a beguine from the Liège
region, is not only illustrative of the interaction between the nun and
the figure of Mary Magdalene, but also of the male mediator of that
interaction.41 Notable here is that the relationship between Mary of
36 Ende groet exempel mach nemen af,/ Hoe enich si hare der minnen gaf./ Dat was
Maria Magdalene; F. Willaert, ‘Hadewijch en Maria Magdalena’ in Miscellanea Neerlandica.
II. Opstellen voor Dr. Jan Deschamps ter gelegenheid van zijn zevenstigste verjaardag, ed.
E. Cockx-Indestege (Leuven: 1987), 57–69.
37 Elizabeth Avilda Petroff, “A New Feminine Spirituality: The Beguines and Their Writ-
ings in Medieval Europe,” in Body and Soul: Essays on Medieval Women and Mysticism, ed.
Elizabeth Avilda Petroff (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1994): 51–65. For a rich study of
the cultural-historical context, see also Paul Vandenbroeck, Hooglied. De beeldwereld van
religieuze vrouwen in de Zuidelijke Nederlanden, vanaf de 13de eeuw (Gent: Snoeck-Ducaju,
1994) and the literature cited there.
38 Anneke Mulder-Bakker, “Was Mary Magdalene a Magdalen? On Abélard’s sermon no
8 on Easter Sunday in which Mary Magdalene is portrayed as a female apostle,” in Media
Latinitas. A Collection of Essays to Mark the Occasion of the Retirement of L. J. Engels, ed.
R.I.A. Nip, vol. 28 of Instrumenta patristica (Turnhout: Brepols, 1996), 269–74, esp. 273.
39 The mystic Margery Kempe (second half of the 14th century) was a mother of four-
teen children, but in a vision, Christ told her that she was nevertheless a virgin: a virgin in
her soul; B.A. Windeatt, ed., The Book of Margery Kempe, (London: Penguin Books: 2004)
86, 88.
40 According to Honorius Augustodunensis (first half of the 12th century), Mary
Magdalene was married: ‘Haec Maria in Magdalum castellum marito traditur, sed ab eo in
Hierosolimam fugiens, generis innemor, legis Dei oblita, vulgaris meretrix efficitur’; cited
in Mulder-Bakker, “Was Mary Magdalene,” 270.
41 D. Papebroeck, “Vita Mariae Oigniacensis,” AA SS 5 (1867): 542–572. In 1231, the
Dominican Thomas of Chantimpré added a supplementum (Papebroeck, “Vita Mariae,”
572–81).
Ognies and her preacher is described as ‘Magdalenian.’ She had the habit
of nestling at his feet.42 Upon the occasion when a man took her hand,
not without physical desire, a voice resounded that said, Noli me tangere.
God wanted to guard her chastity.43
In the Schwester Katrei (1314–24) from the circles of Master Eckhart,
a beguine composed a sermon on Mary Magdalene.44 In the text, she
described the process of a noble woman to a noble love. In the Noli me
tangere, says the beguine, Mary Magdalene is set free and becomes a pro-
claimer. However, the active mission is not her goal, but the unio, which
the woman achieves in the communion. The process is a transition from
externals of the luxuria to the interiority of the fin amant, the strong
lover.45
Demonstrated in the aforementioned religious tracts, a relationship
between female spirituality and the Noli me tangere existed in the North,
differentiating it from the Italian tradition. This interaction between
female spirituality and the northern Noli me tangere was influenced by
the association of Mary Magdalene with the bride in the Song of Songs.46
This association was already established by Hippolytus of Rome in the
passage of Song 3:1–4 in which the bride seeks her lover. When the watch-
men shows her the way, she wants to take him to her mother’s room for
an intimate encounter. Whereas the seeking and finding in John 20 cul-
minates in the emotion of letting go, ‘the Song of Songs identifies the rela-
tionship between woman and man as seeking and finding/not finding,
as a (loving) grasp in order to hold.’47 The passage was adopted for the
liturgy of the saint’s day on July 22nd.
42 M. Lauwers, “ ‘Noli me tangere.’ Marie Madeleine, Marie d’Oignies et les pénitentes
du XIIIe siècle,” Mélanges de l’Ecole française de Rome. Moyen Âge 104/1 (1992): 209–68,
esp. 249; Papebroeck, “Vita Mariae,” 562.
43 Lauwers “ ‘Noli me tangere’,” 242–43; Papebroeck, “Vita Mariae,” 564C.
44 Franz-Josef Schweitzer, Der Freiheitsbegriff der deutschen Mystik. Seine Beziehung
zur Ketzerei der “Brüder und Schwestern vom Freien Geist” mit besonderer Rücksicht auf
den pseudo-eckartischen Traktat “Schwester Katrei” (Frankfurt, 1981), 322–70; Elvira Borg-
städt, Meister Eckhart. Teacher and Preacher, ed. Bernard McGinn et al. (New York: Paulist
Press, 1986), 349–87; Newmann 1995, op. cit. (n. 27), 172–78. Master Eckhart enjoyed being
influenced by women. Because of the heterodox nature of his writings, he does not censor
the descriptions of female spiritual experiences. He does not have the reflex to conform.
45 Newmann, From Virile Woman, 175.
46 The concept of ‘interspace’ (‘tussenruimte’) is taken from Sabine Van Den Eynde, “Hou
mij niet vast. Een pleidooi voor een intertekstuele interpretatie van Maria Magdalena,” in
Noli me tangere. Maria Magdalena in veelvoud, ed. Barbara Baert et al. (Leuven: Peeters,
2006), 1–14.
47 Van Den Eynde, “Hou mij niet vast,” 11.
208 barbara baert
A Canticle of Mary Magdalene, written in thirteenth-century Provence,

expresses her great love of Christ in a monologue. “ ‘Mary!,’ he said. And
I recognized the Master and rushed to him, to embrace him. But he said,
‘Do not touch me!’ And I understood that I must die, like him, if I was to
be at one with love, that does not die, but, beyond death and the grave,
points us the way to a happiness that is great without end and durable
without end.”48 Here, the insight-generating impact of the Noli me tangere
is radicalized to such an extent that Mary Magdalene has to pass through
death, together with Christ, so that she can ‘resurrect’ in everlasting love
and wisdom. These interpretations distill from the Magdalene in the Noli
me tangere a figure that participates in a higher level of knowledge, a level
that is reached through mystical aspirations.
In the visual arts, this new facet of the Magdalene’s character, among
others, was circulated in the Biblia Pauperum. In artistic representations in
the Biblia Pauperum New Testament figures were often paired with those
from the Old Testament. Significantly, the Noli me tangere was portrayed
with both Daniel in the den of lions (Dan 6:19–24) and the encounter and
embrace of the bride and bridegroom of the Song of Solomon (Song 3:4).
In the printed version of c. 1460 two new motifs appear (fig. 7.7).49 The
positions of Christ and Mary Magdalene are reversed and the setting for
the scene is an enclosed garden. Evident in Schongauer’s engraving and
panel painting, a low wall becomes a typical motif of the northern Noli
me tangere (c. 1481) (fig. 7.8).50 The motif of the walled garden derived its
meaning from the context of spiritual intimacy and became a metaphor
for the bride.51
A comparison of Mary Magdalene’s role as the bride of the canticles
to prayers and sermons from the Low Countries reveals that she was also
48 Franciscus Antonius Brunklaus, Het Hooglied van Maria Magdalena (Maastricht:

Leiter-Nypels, 1940), 96. The Noli me tangere is also fitted in with the Raising of Lazarus.
‘En ik, vol dankbaarheid, sloeg mijn armen om de Meester heen, maar met één blik uit zijn
ogen weerde hij me af. “Raak me niet aan”, zei hij. Maar reeds lag Lazarus in mijn armen,
schreiend van geluk’ (‘And I, filled with gratitude, embraced the master, but with one look
from his eyes, he warded me off. “Do not touch me,” he said. But already Lazarus lay in my
arms, weeping for joy.’) Brunklaus, Het Hooglied, 92.
49 G. Klaucke, “De ‘noli me tangere’ scène in de Nederlandse prent- en schilderkunst van
de vijftiende tot en met de zeventiende eeuw,” Kunstlicht 14/3–4 (1993): 42–48.
50 Colmar, Musée d’Unterlinden. F. Anzelewsky, “Schongauers Spanienreise,” Zeitschrift
für Kunstgeschichte 58/1 (1995): 1–21.
51 The walled garden also enhances the reality content of the scene. F. Collins, in
The Production of Medieval Church Music-Drama (Charlottesville: University of Virginia
Press, 1972), 59, denies that the garden would suggest a dramaturgical setting. In the stage
directions of the Paschal plays, the Noli me tangere is staged near the sepulchre.
Fig. 7. Noli me tangere from the Biblia Pauperum. Bibliothèque Nationale, Paris.
put forth as a lover of Christ. Hendrik Herps (c. 1410–1478) in his Spieghel
der volcomenheit (c. 1455–1460), portrayed her as a mediatrix who obtains
purity through her tears, “I shall make my heart, with which one sees
God, clean with my tears.”52 In a prayer in Middle Dutch (1504), currently
housed in the Ghent University library, which is a paraphrase of a prayer
by Anselm of Canterbury (1033–1109), Mary Magdalene is described as
having risen from the “dungeon of sins” to the “beloved friend of God.”53
The imperfect medieval individual can identify with Mary Magdalene as
a mediatrix—as “the favorite lover and beloved of God” (fol. 246v).54 She
represents the promise that, however dark one’s sins, one can be forgiven
by Christ.
Another prominent characteristic of the Noli me tangere theme in the
North is the representation of Christ as the gardener, Christus hortulamus.
52 Ic sal mijn herte, daer men Gode mede siet, reyn maken mit minen tranen.
53 UB 209, fol. 246r; Bram Rossano, “Met eender fonteynen der tranen. De betekenis
van Maria Magdalena’s tranen in een Middelnederlands gebed en verwante teksten,” Spie-
gel der letteren 47/1 (2005): 1–19, esp. 6 and 13. Her tears meet the four-part typology of
penitence: compunctio (compunction), compassio (compassion), contritio (contrition) and
amor (love). See also note 27.
54 Uutvercoorene minnersse ende gheminde gods.
210 barbara baert
Fig. 7.8. Martin Schongauer, Noli me tangere, c. 1481, retable. Musée d’Unterlinden,

Colmar.
Fig. 7.9. Noli me tangere, c. 1525, pall. Museum Mayer van den Bergh, Antwerp.
Photo: Museum Mayer van den Bergh, Antwerp.
Beyond wearing a tunic and carrying a rake or spade as in Italian rep-

resentations, Christ appears in the full attire of a gardener. A pall from
c. 1525 in the Museum Mayer van den Bergh in Antwerp exemplifies this
representation of Christ (fig. 7.9).55 Clothed as a gardener, Christ is not
represented as resurrected with the stigmata, but rather as the human
55 Barbara Baert, cat. entry in Noli me tangere. Maria Magdalena in veelvoud, 60–61.
Hans M.J. Nieuwdorp and Frida Sorber, Textiel. Weefsels-Borduurwerk-Kant-Wandtapijten.
Catalogus 3 Museum Mayer van den Bergh (Schoten: Govaerts, 1980), 73, nr. 159. Legends:
O/spes/.A/via/..psor/lapsa/ma/; O/pia/peccat(ri)x/spo(n)si/celestris/rex/; Impetret/
ad/dnm/tua/scapca/su./; supplicio./fav./elce/gaudia/piis
212 barbara baert
Christ. Moreover, the banderole of Mary Magdalene on the pall bears the
inscription ‘Rabboeni.’ The iconography therefore seems to refer to verse
16 of John 20, when she recognizes her master. Strictly speaking, at that
moment, the ban on touching has not yet been pronounced, although
the play of hands in the scene suggests the opposite. According to certain
authors, the contraction of these different successive moments into one
scene is the result of an influence from drama.56 The introduction of the
Christus hortolamus took place in the passion plays, in which Christ’s ‘dis-
guise’ was an important theatrical element.57 The hortolamus is Christ’s
costume in the Noli me tangere scene of the so-called Visitatio sepulchri.
The hortolamus represents a human Christ, and within the theme of the
Resurrection, emphasizes the appearance of the Christ-man to Mary
Magdalene rather than his imminent reunion with God.58
Mary Magdalene herself was subjected to a similar secularization,
wearing sophisticated contemporary clothing on the pall. In contrast to
Italian examples and Schongauer’s work, her hair does not flow over her
shoulders. The secularization of Mary Magdalene was accompanied by a
growing interest in her sinful life. In mystery plays and manuscripts of her
vita, she was depicted as a dancer (fig. 7.10).59 Aristocratic and patrician
women of the North identified with Mary Magdalene in portraits. The jar
of ointment in the portrait by Quinten Metsijs (c. 1466–1530) indicates
that this woman presents herself as Mary Magdalene (fig. 7.11).60 Mary
Magdalene is the only major exemplary saint to whom tradition gave a
56 Collins, Production of Medieval Church Music, 63.

57 This standpoint is defended by Rafanelli, “The Ambiguity,” 161. It concerns an elabo-
ration of the liturgical drama visitatio sepulchri; Karl Young, The Drama of the Medieval
Church (Oxford: Clarendon, 1933); M. Chauvin, “The Role of Mary Magdalene in Medieval
Drama” (PhD diss., Washington, 1951), 142; Helen Meredith Garth, Saint Mary Magdalene in
Mediaeval Literature (Baltimore: Johns Hopkins University Press, 1950), 69. There is refer-
ence to dialogues in the medieval plays in which Christ tests Mary Magdalene’s faith by
appearing to her ‘in disguise.’
58 Young, The Drama. The text is a dialogue (p. 202) Iesum Nazarenum crucifixum, o
caelicolae (‘Jesus, the Nazarene, the crucified, o angels’). Non est hic, surrexit sicut praedixerat;
ite, nuntiate quia surrexit de sepulchre (‘He is not here, He is risen, as He predicted; go
and announce that He has risen from the grave’). The content is derived from Matthew
28:5–10, Mark 16:5–7 and Luke 24:4–6. The dialogue form is inspired by choir songs from
contemporary liturgy. The version in its original form, occurs in a manuscript in Sankt
Gallen and dates to the middle of the 10th century. With thanks to Isabelle Vanden Hove.
59 C. van den Wildenberg-de Kroon, “Das Weltleben und die Bekehrung der Maria
Magdalena im Deutschen religiosen Drama und in der Bildende Kunst des Mittelalters”
(PhD diss., Amsterdam, 1979).
60 Antwerpen, Koninklijk Museum voor Schone Kunsten.
Fig. 7.10. Dancing Mary Magdalene, 1520, miniature. Bibliothèque Nationale,

Paris, ms. par. fr. 24955, fol. 9.
worldly past. This dichotomy rendered her human and accessible. On the
pall, similar to representations of the Noli me tangere in the Biblia Paupe-
rum, Christ and the Magdalene have traded places. Christ was also shown
on the left in the Biblia Pauperum. This inverted position is also found,
albeit rarely, in earlier examples, e.g. the medallion of the Shrine of Our
Lady in Tournai (c. 1205) (fig. 7.12). Lisa Rafanelli has argued that the new
positions of Christ and Mary Magdalene were not merely the result of the
media utilized but were intentional. With Mary Magdalene on the right
she becomes the focus of the interaction.61 In the representation of the
Noli me tangere on the pall it is not so much the narrative structure that
61 Van den Wildenberg-de Kroon, “Das Weltleben,” 205.

214 barbara baert
Fig. 7.11. Quinten Metsijs, Lady as Mary Magdalene, c. 1500. Koninklijke Musea

voor Schone Kunsten, Antwerp.
Fig. 7.12. Noli me tangere from the Medallion of the Shrine of Our Lady, 1205.
Tournai.
takes precedence as the viewer’s empathy with Mary Magdalene’s experi-

ence on seeing her Rabboni, the Risen Christ.
Along with the spirituality of religious women and the Song of Songs,
another factor that affected the appearance of the northern Noli me tan-
gere was the French relic cult. In the context of the French relic cult a
unique Noli me tangere iconography emerged in the North. In the painting
of the Seven Joys of the Virgin by Hans (c. 1480) the Noli me tangere takes
place behind a rock (fig. 7.13).62 Christ, holding a crosier and wearing a
62 Donated by Pieter Bultync and Katharina van Riebeke to the church of Our Lady
of Bruges, currently in Munich, Alte Pinakothek; N. Schneider, “Zur Ikonographie von
216 barbara baert
Fig. 7.13. Noli me tangere, detail from Hans Memling, Seven Joys of the Virgin, 1480,
retable. Alte Pinakothek, Munich.
red robe that exposes the wound in his side, stands to the left of Mary
Magdalene, who is bending forward with her jar of ointment in her hand.
Her pose is one of supplication—almost confession—and what’s more,
she does not look Christ in the eye, as if she is submitting to him in shame.
Even more remarkable than the figures’ interaction is Christ’s placement
of his thumb on her forehead as if he is anointing or blessing her. While
Memling is the first known artist specifically to depict Christ touching the
Magdalene, others followed: a painting by Jacob Cornelisz. van Oostzanen
from 1507,63 Albrecht Dürer’s woodcut from 1510–11, and an engraving by
Lucas van Leyden from 1519.64
Among the relics of Mary Magdalene rediscovered by Charles II of
Anjou in Saint-Maximin in 1279 was her skull to which a small piece of
forehead skin still adhered (fig. 7.14).65 The occasion of this inventio gave
rise to the tradition that this piece of skin had been touched by Christ.
Paradoxically enough, this relic became the so-called Noli me tangere relic
that attracted many pilgrims.66 The skull was placed in a golden shrine
in 1280.67
Hans Memling’s interpretation of the Noli me tangere makes a direct
reference to the Provençal tradition of the relic. The fifteenth century
Provençal play Rouergue résurrection contains a specific stage direc-
tion for the actor playing Christ to explicitly touch the forehead of Mary
Memlings ‘Die Sieben Freuden Mariens’,” Münchner Jahrbuch der bildenden Kunst 3/24
(1973): 21–32.
63 Kassel, Gemäldegalerie; Klaucke, “De ‘noli me tangere’ scène,” 42–48.
64 See C. Harbison, “Lucas van Leyden, the Magdalene and the Problem of Seculariza-
tion in Early Christian Century Northern Art,” Oud Holland 98 (1984): 117–29.
65 M.D. Orth, “The Magdalene Shrine of La Sainte-Baume in 1516. A Series of Minia-
tures by Godefroy le Batabe (B.N. Ms. Fr. 24.955),” Gazette des Beaux Arts 98 (1981): 209;
Rafanelli, “The Ambiguity,” 108–9.
66 John Calvin, “Admonition, in which it is shown how advantageous it would be for
Christendom that the bodies and relics of Saints were reduced to a kind of inventory,” in
Tracts Relating to the Reformation (Edinburgh: 1844), vol. 1, 294, says that this relic was
venerated as a kind of God who descended from heaven, but that closer inspection would
clearly show that the skin was a fraud. Calvin also mentions the popular belief that the
skin—according to the author, a very small piece—showed the imprint of Christ’s fingers,
with which he pushed Mary Magdalene away when he got angry at her attempt to touch
him (p. 330).
67 In 1491, the church of Sainte Madeleine in Marseille claimed an original piece of this
skin. In 1789, the skin was removed from the skull and put in a separate shrine; Michel
Moncault, La basilique Sainte-Marie-Madeleine et le convent royal (Aix-en-Provence:
EDISUD, 1985), 38.
218 barbara baert
Fig. 7.14. Head reliquary of Mary Magdalene, crypt. Saint-Maximin, La-Sainte-

Baume.
Magdalene.68 This touch implies a different relationship between Christ

and Mary Magdalene than the one we have been accustomed to so far in
the Noli me tangere iconography. Not only does it break the tactile taboo,
the manner of touching itself has important affinities with the rites of con-
fession and baptism. By touching her, Christ appears to Mary Magdalene
in a priestly sense as if offering her the benediction. This type of Noli me
tangere stages the penitent profile of the sinful Mary Magdalene. It also
puts her attribute of the jar of ointment in a different light. In the first
place, the jar refers to her role of myrrhophore, but secondly, it also refers
68 Chauvin, “The Role of Mary Magdalene,” 143.

to her anointing of Christ’s feet. The jar of ointment, then, is another sign
of repentance.69
In the Netherlands and Germany in the fifteenth century the iconogra-
phy of the Noli me tangere images was versatile. Of special significance is
the unique treatment of the scene by Hans Memling in which Christ actu-
ally touches the Magdalene’s forehead. In Italy, it is not until the Cinque-
cento that we find the influence of the hortulamus, the fashionable Mary
Magdalene and the touching by a Christ-priest.70
Conclusion: Bodies and Embodiments
In this examination of the Noli me tangere, a comparison of scripture and

exegesis with visual imagery reveals the key points that placed the body in
its anthropology of the incarnation, the cycle of salvation, and the divine
aura. But the Noli me tangere does more: it transfixes the three key points
through their core with gender tension. The demand to give up the desire
to touch definitively on the grounds of departure and divine union—Noli
me tangere—is not only gender-charged emotionally, but is also a momen-
tum in the history of salvation. Appealing to the emotions, it bears upon
the parting, the farewell between a man and a woman. As a momentum
in the history of salvation, the Noli me tangere strikes up the final chord
of Christ’s visibility on earth, and announces his return to invisibility. Of
all people, a woman is chosen to witness and proclaim this transforma-
tion. This transformation is an inner process, and is therefore difficult to
represent in art. However, by placing the emotional emphasis on the gaze
and on the hands, these bodily features became symbolic bearers for rep-
resenting this deeper meaning of the Noli me tangere.
In short, in the visualization of the Noli me tangere, the physical/aphys-
ical interaction between Mary Magdalene and Christ must incorporate
the emotion and the momentum. Thus, the Noli me tangere, precisely in
its denial of tactility, became an iconography that presents corporeality
at its apex, the threshold between the resurrection of the body and its
vanishing point. The inch of space between a thumb and a forefinger is a
69 Moreover, there is a medieval tradition that identified the Magdalene’s jar with
the alabaster jar containing Christ’s foreskin. Mary Magdalene’s alabaster jar of ointment
belonged to Saint-Victoire in Marseille. Her aromatic oils were kept in Saint-Sevère in Les
Landes; Haskins, Mary Magdalen, 218; Garth, Saint Mary Magdalene, 33.
70 On this issue, see Rafanelli, “The Ambiguity,” 199–200, 208–10.
220 barbara baert
pars pro toto for the greatest rift in the history of salvation: the transition
from Christ’s physical visibility to his invisibility. Jean-Luc Nancy sums up
the corporeality of the Noli me tangere as ‘opening, separation, partition
and elevation of the body.’71
Moving to the diachronic overview of visual images, this discussion has
demonstrated that the bodies in the Noli me tangere are not uniform. Noli
me tangere thematizes the body in its perception. Christ appears in three
manifestations. The Noli me tangere teaches that corporeality in Chris-
tian anthropology is also about a seeing that activates. The Dominicans of
San Marco had a good grasp of this activation of sight and the threshold
beyond the body. Their Noli me tangere looks both ways: to the active
life of preaching and to the empty contours of the body in contemplative
study. The male mendicant orders appropriated this double position as
their mission, and thereby socially eroded this position, which was origi-
nally exclusively female, into a matter for men.
But the Noli me tangere also teaches that corporeality, in Christian
anthropology, is about seeing beyond the body. There where the body
departs—becomes sacrosanct—the void is filled with the spiritual image,
the beata visio. The so-called threshold of the Noli me tangere is therefore
also expressed in scopophilia: the love of looking that carries us to the
other shore of the body itself.
North of the Alps, Mary Magdalene—and the Noli me tangere in
particular—never really became encapsulated in the ideology of the
mendicant orders. The Noli me tangere certainly affected the female mys-
tic movement of the North. There was unmistakably an awareness of
the chosen role of Mary Magdalene as a witness in the Noli me tangere.
This awareness was nurtured by a spiritual climate that presented Mary
Magdalene as the bride of the Song of Songs. In this process, the physical
separation between Mary Magdalene and Christ is mainly drawn from the
angle of mystic love beyond the physical. The Noli me tangere is an exem-
plum for the unio with God.
During the fifteenth century, new iconographic details are added in
the North, such as the Christus hortulamus and Christ touching Mary
Magdalene. The interest in the gardener may have been suggested by
drama or by the worldly taste of the ars nova. In any event, it draws our
attention to the ‘guise’ of Christ. The hortulamus—Noli me tangere is a
71 ‘Ouverture, séparation, partance’ and ‘levée du corps’; Nancy, Noli me tangere, 76.
prefiguration of the departing and invisible Christ and involves the spec-
tator in the mystery of the veiled manifestation.
Finally, the touching Christ, for the first time, bridges the physical gap
and corresponds to the apocryphal traditions surrounding the skin relic
of Mary Magdalene. Here, they have reached a point where the human
spirit has sent its empathy with Mary Magdalene soaring so high that it
has filled the unendurable void itself with the desire for the sanctifying
touch. It is a touch in the Noli me tangere that brings tactility back to its
core: purification and rebirth.
Translated from Dutch by Audrey van Tuyckom

chapter eight
Michelangelo’s Noli Me Tangere for Vittoria Colonna, and

the Changing Status of Women in Renaissance Italy
Lisa M. Rafanelli
Michelangelo’s lost Noli me tangere cartoon for Vittoria Colonna is known to

us today through the painted copies of Pontormo (1531), Bronzino (1531–32)
(fig. 8.1), and Battista Franco (1537). These paintings bear witness to the
originality of Michelangelo’s composition, which defies iconographical
expectations established for scenes of the Noli me tangere. In these beau-
tiful and moving images, the plaintive, hurried agitation of Saint Mary
Magdalene contrasts with the quiet, calming majesty of the risen Christ.
Almost equal in stature with the risen Christ, the Magdalene does not
kneel, but stands to Christ’s right. Even more surprisingly, Christ reaches
out to touch her chest, subverting our expectations about the meaning
of the scriptural passage on which it was based ( John 20:11–18) and the
actions that it implies. Michelangelo’s innovative interpretation of the
subject, as manifest in the painted copies, focuses on the Magdalene’s
privilege and the worth and redemptive power of her words and deeds,
rather than her sinful past and penitence, as was typical of other rendi-
tions of the Noli me tangere. By celebrating the empowered aspects of
the Magdalene’s identity, this painting participates visually in the debate
raging in humanist and theological circles over the status of women in
religion and society, and reflects the role of its patron, Vittoria Colonna,
in this debate.
The Noli me tangere in Word and Image
The textual source for images of the Noli me tangere is the Gospel of John
(20:11–18). According to the text, Mary of Magdala visits Christ’s tomb on
the Sunday morning after the Crucifixion, weeps at the sight of the empty
tomb, and then peers into it again to see two angels dressed in white.
After complaining to the angels that someone has removed Christ’s body,
she turns toward someone she believes to be a gardener, who asks why
she weeps. When she asks if it was he who removed the body, he does not
224 lisa m. rafanelli
Fig. 8.1. Agnolo Bronzino, Noli me tangere (after Michelangelo), c. 1532, panel.

Casa Buonarotti, Florence, Italy. Photo: Scala/Art Resource, NY.
michelangelo’s noli me tangere for vittoria colonna 225
answer her, but instead addresses her by name. Hearing her name spoken,
she recognizes that the gardener is Christ in disguise. Turning toward him
again she calls out, “Rabboni,” or teacher. The Gospel does not mention
what, if anything, happens next, except to say that Christ says, “Noli me
tangere (do not touch me),1 for I am not yet ascended to my Father. But go
to my brethren and say to them: I ascend to my Father and to your Father,
to my God and to your God.” She runs and tells the male disciples, “I have
seen the Lord; and these things he said to me.”
The meaning and ambiguity of the word tangere, as it is used in the
Johannine Gospel, has perplexed theologians for centuries and played a
role in the development of the Noli me tangere iconography. Does the
Magdalene literally attempt to embrace or touch Christ, and are Christ’s
words thus meant as a rebuff or reprimand? Why would he do so? Does
Christ not wish to be touched because he is in a liminal state—some-
where between Resurrection and Ascension? Saint Augustine of Hippo
(c. 354–430) suggested that within the Gospel of John, tangere was to be
understood metaphorically—touch signified belief (PL 38, 1144).2 Thus,
he wrote, whoever believes in Christ touches Christ. In that case, Christ’s
admonition must have been meant to redirect the Magdalene, as if to say,
“[d]o not lose heaven by touching earth; do not fail to believe in God by
cleaving to the Man in Christ” (PL 38, 1150).3
In contrast to Saint Augustine, Saint Ambrose (c. 388) argued that
the word tangere in fact referred to a physical touching, and that the
1 Noli me tangere or noli me trattenere is the Vulgate translation of the Greek mê mou
haptou. Scholars continue to debate whether the original phrase implies an on-going
action, and thus that Christ’s words meant “do not hold on to me” or “do not continue to
cling to me” rather than “do not touch me.” It is important to note, however, that Early
Christian writers generally translated it as “do not touch me.” For a recent analysis of
this issue see Reimund Beiringer, “ ‘Noli Me Tangere’ and the New Testament: An Exegeti-
cal Approach,” in ‘Noli Me Tangere’ Mary Magdalene: One Person, Many Images (Leuven:
Maurits Sabbe Library, 2006), 13–29. In “Touching Jesus? The Meaning of mê mou haptou
in its Johannine Context,” Noli Me Tangere: Text Image Context: Contributions of Exegesis,
Art History, Philosophy and Literature Studies Concerning the Prohibition of Touch in John
20:17, (Annua Nuntia Lovaniensia, 67) ed. R. Bieringer, K. Demasure and B. Baert (in press,
2012), Dr. Beiringer demonstrates that the original meaning of the phrase mê mou haptou
was in fact, ‘do not touch me.’
2 Augustine, Sermo CCXLIII In diebus Paschalibus XIV, P.L. 38, col. 1144 (“Sed ille tactus
fidem significat. Tangit Christum, qui credit in Christum”); see also Augustine, In Joannis
Evangelium, Tractatus CXXI, P.L. 35, col. 1957 (“Restat ergo ut aliquod in his verbis lateat
sacramentum”).
3 Augustine, Sermo CCXLIV In diebus Paschalibus XV, P.L. 38, col. 1150 (“Noli tangendo
terram, coelum perdere; noli remanendo in homine, in Deum non credere”); see also
Augustine, Sermo CCXLV In diebus Paschalibus XVI, P.L. 38, col. 1152.
Magdalene was not permitted to touch because she was a woman (PL 15,
1845).4 His position reveals the discomfort felt by many men who sought
to reconcile the privilege of the Magdalene as first and solitary witness to
the Resurrection (to say nothing of her role as annunciatrix of the news)5
with cultural and ecclesiastical presumptions about women’s inferiority,
untrustworthiness, intellectual and legal incapacity. In the sixth century,
when Pope Gregory the Great declared that Mary Magdalene was the same
woman as Mary of Bethany, Mary the sister of Martha and Lazarus, and
the penitent, unnamed sinner mentioned in the Gospel of Luke (7:36–50,
8:2–3),6 he not only changed the parameters of her identity, but also—at
least implicitly—nuanced the reason for Christ’s rejection of her touch.
We are left with the impression that as a former prostitute her touch is
somehow tainted.
4 Ambrose, Expositionis in Lucam, Lib. X, P.L. 15, col. 1845 (“Quia resurrectio non facile
misi a perfectioribus capi potest, fundatioribus hujus fidei praerogativa servatur: Mulieri-
bus autum docere in Ecclesia non permitto, domi viros suos interrogent (I Cor. 14:35). Ad
eos ergo mittitur, qui domestici sunt: et accepit praescripta mandata (I Tim. 2:12).”
5 As early as the third century (c. 236 C.E.) Hippolytus refers to Mary as an apostle
in his exposition on the Canticle of Canticles (or Song of Songs) De Cantico, 24–25. For
a translation and an extensive analysis, see Victor Saxer, “Marie Madeleine dans le com-
mentaire d’Hippolyte sur le Cantique des Cantiques,” Revue Benedictine CI (1991): 219–240.
Saint Jerome (c. 342–420) also refers to the Magdalene as an apostle in Epistola CXXVII Ad
Principiam Verginem, P.L. 22, col. 1090 (“prima ante Apostolos Christum videre meruit resur-
gentum”). Peter Abelard (1079–1142) makes a similar reference in Sermo XIII in die Paschae,
P.L. 178, cols. 485–89. Beginning in the twelfth century Mary Magdalene was known as the
apostolorum apostola, an appellation that refers to her legendary apostolate in France, and
not to her role as annunciatrix of the Resurrection. Katherine L. Jansen, The Making of the
Magdalen. Preaching and Popular Devotion in the Later Middle Ages (Princeton: Princeton
University Press, 2000), chapter two expands upon her article, “Maria Magdalena: Apos-
tolorum Apostola,” in Women Preachers and Prophets through Two Millennia of Christianity,
ed. B.M. Kienzle and P.J. Walker (Berkeley: University of California Press 1998), 57–96).
6 Gregory the Great, Homiliarum In Evangelia, Lib. II, Homil. XXXIII, P.L. 76, col. 1239
(given in the church of San Clemente in Rome in 591) (“Hanc vero quam Lucas peccatricem
mulierum, Joannes Mariam nominat, illam esse Mariam credimus de qua Marcus septem
daemonia ejecta fuisse testatur”); and Homiliarum In Evangelia, Lib. II, Homil. XXV, P.L. 76,
col. 1189 (given in S. Giovanni in Laterano during Easter week) (“Maria Magdalene, quae
feurat in civitate peccatrix, amando veritatem, lavit lacrymis maculas criminis . . . venit
ad monumentum”). From this moment on, Mary of Magdala became the unnamed sin-
ner who came to the house of the Pharisee to anoint Christ’s feet (Luke 7:36–50, 8:2–3),
the woman who anointed Christ in the house of Simon the Leper of Bethany (Matthew
26:6–13, Mark 14:3–9, John 12:1–8), and Mary of Bethany, sister of Martha and Lazarus
(Luke 10:38–42, John 11:1–44). For more extensive treatment of Gregory’s “theory of unity,”
and the presumption that the unnamed sinner was a prostitute see Victor Saxer, Le Culte
de Marie-Madeleine en Occident des origines à la fin du moyen âge, Cahier d’archéologie et
d’histoire, 3 (Paris: Clavreuil, 1959); and Susan Haskins, Mary Magdalene: Myth and Meta-
phor (London: Harper Collins, 1993), chapter one.
For as long as artists have given visual form to the encounter between
the Magdalene and the Resurrected Christ, the question of gaze, hand ges-
ture, body position and costume (for both the saint and Christ) has been
subject to frequent reinterpretation.7 While this fact makes it somewhat
difficult to find a “traditional” Noli me tangere as a point of comparison
for Michelangelo, by the fifteenth century certain characteristics occurred
in most Italian representations of the subject. Fra Angelico’s 1445 Noli me
tangere fresco for the Dominican monastery of San Marco in Florence
(fig. 8.2) exhibits the essential elements of the iconography. The Magdalene,
with her signature unbound blonde hair, has turned away from the empty
tomb, which is situated within an enclosed garden (a hortus conclusus).8
Christ appears before her, dressed in a long, white garment, holding a gar-
dening hoe. She kneels to his right, reaching toward him. Christ responds
by extending his right arm and hand, palm down, simultaneously address-
ing and restraining her. His lower body moves away from the Magdalene,
while his upper body turns toward her.
Christ’s chiastic posture in Fra Angelico’s composition brings to mind
traditional Augustinian bodily hierarchies, “pedes in terra, caput in coelo,”9
and gives visual form to Augustine’s interpretation of Christ’s admonition
that the Magdalene not cling to the man in Christ (the lower body turns
away), but to believe that he has risen (the upper body turns inward).
Christ’s counterpoised stance can also be read as a signifier of duality in
other ways: from the Hypostatic Union of his human and divine natures,
to the more immediate concern that he is no longer fully human nor fully
ascended.
Noli me tangere images produced north of the Alps in this same period
contain many of the aforementioned elements, but root the story, through
the increased level of detail, in the mundane world of human interaction.
Included in these scenes are the Magdalene’s ointment jar (reminding us
of Christ’s anointing by the unnamed sinner, and the saint’s role as a myr-
rhophore) or Christ’s full gardening attire (giving rhetorical clarity to the
Magdalene’s misunderstanding). So too, Christ’s actions often heighten
7 See Lisa M. Rafanelli, “The Ambiguity of Touch: Saint Mary Magdalene and the Noli
Me Tangere in Early Modern Italy” (PhD diss., New York University, 2004).
8 The hortus conclusus reminds viewers of parallels between the Virgin Mary and Mary
Magdalene, and between the Magdalene and the Bride of the Canticle of Canticles. The
latter comparison goes back at least to the early third century writings of Hippolytus, supra
Note 5.
9 Augustine, In Epistolam Ioannis Ad Parthos Tractatus Decem, http://www.augustinian
.villanova.edu/Augustinian Studies/John/jnep10.htm (accessed 6/21/2004).
Fig. 8.2. Fra Angelico, Noli me tangere, 1440–41, fresco, 180 × 146 cm. Museo di
S. Marco, Florence, Italy. Photo: Scala/Art Resource, NY.
the palpability and immediacy of the encounter. As seen in Lucas van

Leyden’s Noli me tangere engraving (1518–19) (fig. 8.3) Christ walks toward
the Magdalene, not away from her, and reaches out to touch her head.10
Such representations remind the viewer of the physical proof of the
Magdalene’s encounter with the risen Christ: the Provençal relics, which
include a piece of uncorrupted skin from the Magdalene’s head touched
by Christ during the garden encounter, that was called, oddly enough, the
Noli me tangere.11
This limited overview of the iconography of the Noli me tangere both
north and south of the Alps highlights the uniqueness of Michelangelo’s
composition, repeated in the painted copies. There are certain key ele-
ments of the traditional iconographical type that remain: the two-figure
grouping, Christ’s chiastic stance, his gesture that simultaneously greets
and (here somewhat languidly) halts the Magdalene, and finally, the
accoutrement of a gardening hoe. Beyond this, however, there are signifi-
cant deviations from iconographical expectation; deviations that empha-
size the empowerment and privilege of the Magdalene, rather than her
sinful past.
One feature that diverges from traditional iconography is the treatment
of the Magdalene’s hair. Typically, artists portrayed the Magdalene with
long, flowing blonde hair, which served as a reminder of her sinful past.
In contrast, Michelangelo did not reveal the Magdalene’s hair, but instead
covered it with a fabric headdress. There is also no ointment jar accompa-
nying the Magdalene. Further, in contrast to most representations of the
subject, which take place in a garden, Michelangelo places Christ and the
Magdalene at the foot of the city walls of what appears to be a Tuscan hill
town, perhaps also reminiscent of the Holy City of Jerusalem. In at least
one variant of Michelangelo’s original composition, that of Pontormo,
Christ is positioned at the lip of his open sarcophagus, newly-resurrected.12
In this respect the composition seems to combine the Resurrection and
10 There is as yet no comprehensive treatment of the motif in Northern Renaissance

art. The work of Dr. Barbara Baert provides the foundation for any such study. For an
introduction to the subject and further discussion of the characteristics of the northern
iconography, see Rafanelli, “Ambiguity,” chapter four.
11 For the history of the discovery and translation of the Magdalene’s relics see
Victor Saxer, Le dossier vézelien de Marie Madeleine: Invention et translation des reliques en
1265–1267 (Brussels: Société des Bollandistes, 1975). For the reliquary see also Myra Dick-
man Orth, “The Magdalene Shrine at La Sainte-Baume in 1516. “A Series of Miniatures by
Godefroy le Batave,” Gazette des Beaux-Arts 98 (1981): 201–14.
12 Christ’s placement and posture also recall middle Byzantine Anastasis images, in
which the risen Christ tramples on the gates of hell and liberates those stuck in purgatory.
Fig. 8.3. Lucas van Leyden, Noli me tangere (Christ Appearing to Mary Magdalene),
c. 1519, etching, first state. Photo: Réunion des Musées Nationaux/Art Resource, NY.
Noli me tangere, creating an iconographical type for which there are

occasional, albeit more rare prototypes.13 These details lend drama to the
scene and emphasize the immediacy of the encounter, leaving no doubt
that Mary Magdalene is privileged above all others to be the first human
witness to the Resurrection.
Christ turns to face the Magdalene, he appears to be looking toward the
ground rather than at her face, as if expecting her to still be kneeling. She
is not there, however. Instead, perhaps drawing herself up from a kneel-
ing stance, she stands to Christ’s right. The Magdalene’s upright stance
distinguishes this Noli me tangere from most other contemporary depic-
tions of the subject, imbuing the painting with deeper levels of meaning.
See Anna Kartsonis, Anastasis: The Making of an Image (Princeton: Princeton University
Press, 1986).
13 See, e.g., Folio 56r, Missal of Abbot Berthold, 1200–32 (Pierpont Morgan Library,
Ms. 710); and Girolamo da Santacroce, Noli Me Tangere/Resurrection, 1525 (Houston: Sarah
Campbell Blaffer Foundation, 1983), 104.
In most Western philosophical systems, erect posture is associated with

moral character and intellectual elevation (and therefore, by extension,
masculinity). In visual imagery, stature is traditionally a metaphor for sta-
tus. The same can be said of gaze. From antiquity to the Renaissance, men
were more often represented with heads held erect, and women more
commonly with eyes downcast eyes.14 In comparison to conventional rep-
resentations, the Magdalene’s upright stance and gaze here convey her
elevated consciousness, as well as a surprising level of parity and intimacy
in her relationship with Christ. She flings her arms wide open as she rushes
toward Christ. Her proffered embrace confirms that she is someone with
whom Christ is on relatively equal and intimate terms, such as a disciple
or, metaphorically at least, a spouse.15
The Magdalene’s body language is also among the more atypical details
in the composition and merits special attention. At once she appears to
be running into and out of the scene, assuming a posture that bears a
striking resemblance to that of Venus rushing to the side of the dying
14 For the feminine and masculine gaze in antiquity see Jan Bremmer, “Walking, Stand-
ing and Sitting in Ancient Greek Culture,” in A Cultural History of Gesture, ed. J. Bremmer
and H. Roodenburg (Ithaca: Cornell Univ. Press, 1992), 15–35; see also Marjorie O’Rourke
Boyle, Senses of Touch: Human Dignity and Deformity from Michelangelo to Calvin (Leiden:
Brill, 1998).
15 Hippolytus is thought to have made the first comparison between the search of “Mar-
tha and Mary,” for Christ on Easter morning and the Bride’s search for her lover in the
Canticle of Canticles. De Cantico 24–25 (supra note 5). The comparison is apt, since the
Johannine Gospel account bears a distinct resemblance to one of the most beautiful pas-
sages in the Canticles (3:1–4):
Night after night on my bed
I have sought my true love;
I have sought him but not found him,
I have called him but he has not answered.
I said, ‘I will rise and go the rounds of the city,
through the streets and the squares, seeking my true love.’
I sought him but I did not find him,
I called him but he did not answer.
The watchmen, going the rounds of the city, met me,
and I asked, ‘Have you seen my true love?’
Scarcely had I left them behind me
when I met my true love.
I seized him and would not let him go
until I had brought him to my mother’s house,
to the room of her who conceived me.
The comparison between the Magdalene and the spouse of the Canticle of Canticles was
often made explicit in the visual arts. See, e.g., the widely-circulated Netherlandish Biblia
Pauperum of the 1460s (Dresde: Sächsische Landesbibliothek), reproduced in Avril Henry,
Biblia Pauperum: A Facsimile and Edition (Ithaca: Cornell University Press, 1987), 4.
Adonis (depicted on a well-known second century Roman sarcophagus,

and adapted for the figure of the Magdalene by Titian in his late Pietà
(1570s)).16 As she approaches Christ, her body twists energetically and she
points out of the picture plane with her right hand. Her counterpoised
posture functions on a number of levels. It gives visual form to the text of
the Johannine Gospel, where it is written that the Magdalene turns toward
Christ a second time when she hears him call her name ( John 20:16). It
was this turn that Augustine characterized as a turn of heart.17 And thus
we might read her contrapposto as a signifier of her conversion. It gives
visual form to her antithetical state of being—from confusion to belief.
The same posture also functions as a narrative device, drawing together
the action taking place in the picture plane with that occurring outside.
It communicates the Magdalene’s acceptance of Christ’s charge to bring
the news of his Resurrection to the others: the inquisitor will become the
annunciatrix. She may even be more than that. With her mouth slightly
open, the Magdalene appears to be speaking, even pleading with Christ,
perhaps as an intercessor.
The Magdalene’s upright stance and counterpoised posture also con-
tribute to what is perhaps the most unusual detail of the composition:
Christ’s outstretched hand gestures towards her breast, heart, or chest.
The touch seems almost accidental, as if Christ only makes contact
because the Magdalene stands. At first blush, it seems as indecorous as
the touch proffered by the Magdalene in Titian’s Noli me tangere (fig. 8.4),18
belying, perhaps, a certain erotic charge. But as with Titian, it is unlikely
that such a glaring breach of decorum—this time with respect to Christ’s
behavior—would have been intended. To reflect back on Augustine, it is
clear that the touch or near touch has deeper meaning.
As mentioned earlier, it was commonplace in the art of the north to see
Christ touching the saint’s forehead. While I know of no pictorial prec-
edents for Christ touching the Magdalene’s breast, the effect is arguably
16 In the early 16th century, the sarcophagus was in the collection of the sculptor
Andrea Bregno in Rome. Renaissance Artists and Antique Sculpture, ed. Phyllis P. Bober
and Ruth O. Rubinstein (London: Harvey Miller Publishers, 2010), cat. 21. Fritz Saxl rec-
ognized this to be the inspiration for the figure of the Magdalene in Titian’s late Pietà,
today in the Accademia Galleries in Venice. Fritz Saxl, Lectures, 2 vols. (London: Warburg
Institute, 1957), 173.
17 Augustine, In Joannis Evangelium, Tractatus CXXI, P.L. 35, cols. 1956–57 (“ut ei diceret,
Rabboni, nisi quia tunc conversa corpore, quod non erat, putavit, nunc corde conversa, quod
erat agnovit?”).
18 Lisa M. Rafanelli, “Sense and Sensibilities: A Feminist Reading of Titian’s ‘Noli Me
Tangere’ (1509–15),” Critica d’Arte 35/36 (2009): 28–47.
Fig. 8.4. Titian, Noli me tangere, 1511–12, oil on canvas, 109 × 91 cm. National
Gallery, London (NG270). Photo: National Gallery, London/Art Resource, NY.
the same: it heightens the immediacy of and lends rhetorical clarity to

the Resurrection by offering tactile proof thereof. Franklin even describes
Michelangelo’s composition as a reversed Incredulity of Thomas.19 Christ
instills belief by touching the Magdalene’s chest—reminding her (and the
devotee) of the placement of his own wounds, and of the tactile proof
that Thomas sought. With his touch, Christ also draws attention to the
Magdalene’s heart, or perhaps to her change of heart, as she comes to
believe.
Christ’s touch may also be interpreted as a call to action. The words of
the fourth-century saint and doctor of the church, Cyril of Jerusalem, help
shed light on this idea—at least in an indirect way. In his Mystagogical
Catecheses (lectures given to the newly baptized beginning on Easter Sun-
day) he addresses the significance of anointing the forehead as symboliz-
ing delivery from the shame of original sin. He then discusses anointing of
the ears to hear divine mysteries, and the nose to smell sacred ointment.
Finally, he speaks of the anointing of the breast,
Then on your breast; that having put on the breastplate of righteousness,
ye may stand against the wiles of the devil. For as Christ after His Baptism,
and the descent of the Holy Ghost, went forth and vanquished the adver-
sary, so likewise, having, after Holy Baptism and the Mystical Chrism, put
on the whole armor of the Holy Ghost, do ye stand against the power of
the enemy, and vanquish it, saying, I can do all things through Christ which
strengtheneth me.20
In other words, after the symbolic death and rebirth of baptism (a rite
long associated with the Magdalene and the Easter celebrations)21 after
a neophyte’s sins have been forgiven and her senses awakened, her heart
19 David Franklin, Painting in Renaissance Florence 1500–1550 (New Haven and London:
Yale University Press, 2001), 76. William Wallace, “Il ‘Noli Me Tangere’ di Michelangelo: tra
sacro e profano,” Arte Cristiana 76 (1988), 443–50, esp. 448–49, compares Christ’s gesture
to that of God on the Sistine Ceiling: like God, Christ is poised to instill the spark of new
life in the Magdalene. Prof. Christian Kleinbub (Ohio State University) is currently engaged
in a study of Christ’s touch as a gesture signifying the sowing of the heart with the seed,
based on the writings of Saint Augustine.
20 St. Cyril of Jerusalem’s Lectures on the Christian Sacraments: The Procatechesis and the
Five Mystagogical Catecheses, ed. F.L. Cross, trans. R.W. Church (Crestwood: St. Vladimir’s
Seminary Press, 1986), Catechesis III: On the Holy Chrism, 65–66.
21 Hippolytus made special provisions for the newly baptized to receive their first Holy
Communion at the Easter Mass. Joseph Jungmann, The Mass of the Roman Rite: Its Origins
and Development, trans. F. Brunner (New York: Benziger 1950–55), vol. 1, 15. By the ninth
century, Baptism was allowed during two seasons, Easter and Pentecost. O.B. Hardison,
Christian Rite and Christian Drama in the Middle Ages: Essays on the Origin and Early His-
tory of Modern Drama (Baltimore: Johns Hopkins, 1965), 81.
is touched. At this point she is able to lift herself up to stand before God,
and to act on her beliefs. Even if a direct correlation between the quoted
text and Michelangelo’s composition cannot be shown, Cyril of Jerusa-
lem’s well-known words may very well shed light on how Christ’s ges-
ture could have been understood by Colonna and her circle to show the
Magdalene as a woman of action, a woman of privilege, ready to assume
her sacred duties.
A Feminist Reading
Scholars in the fields of feminist theology, history and art history have
shown that if we are sensitive to clues internal to a work of art, such as
image size, choice of subject matter, or iconographical deviation, rep-
resentations of women can be used as sources of women’s history—
revealing hitherto unappreciated facts about patronage, the function of
works of art, and their reception by different audiences.22 Scholarship has
also demonstrated that in male-dominated cultures, written and visual
representations of women can often be understood prescriptively and
proscriptively—as signifiers of female behavior that is either desirable
or to be discouraged, at least, by men.23 As a subject, the Noli me tan-
gere negotiates an unstable middle ground between the two ends of this
continuum.
Throughout the Middle Ages and Renaissance, Saint Mary Magdalene
was put forth as a behavioral exemplar of certain characteristics, includ-
ing humility, charity, and penitence. While women and men alike looked
to the Magdalene as a role model for penitence, women were actively dis-
couraged from emulating what was arguably her most significant role—
witness to and herald of the Resurrection.24 Indeed, in certain cases, the
22 See Griselda Pollock, Vision and Difference. Femininity, Feminism and the Histories
of Art (New York and London: Routledge, 1988); Thalia Gouma-Peterson and Patricia
Mathews, “The Feminist Critique of Art History,” Art Bulletin 69 (1987): 326–57; Patricia
Mathews, “The Politics of Feminist Art History,” in The Subjects of Art History. Historical
Objects in Contemporary Perspectives, ed. M. Cheetham, M.A. Holly, and K. Moxey (Cam-
bridge: Cambridge University Press, 1998), 95–115. See also Roger J. Crum, “Controlling
Women or Women Controlled? Suggestions for Gender Roles and Visual Culture in the
Italian Renaissance Palace,” in Beyond Isabella. Secular Women Patrons of Art in Renais-
sance Italy (Sixteenth Century Essays and Studies Vol. LIV), ed. S.E. Reiss and D. Wilkins
(Kirksville: Truman State University Press 2001), 37–51.
23 Gouma-Peterson and Mathews, “The Feminist Critique,” 338.
24 Preachers frequently appealed to the moral authority of lay women, urging them
to use their persuasive skills at home in order to help make better Christians of their
saint was even denied her scriptural prerogative of being the first wit-
ness to the Resurrection. For example, in both Pseduo-Bonaventure’s
Meditations on the Life of Christ and Pseudo-Cavalca’s Life of Saint Mary
Magdalen, Christ appears first to his mother, who gives him permission
to visit the inconsolable Magdalene.25 In other words, the ways in which
women were encouraged to emulate the behavior of and identify with the
Magdalene were strictly controlled by men, and were in conformity with
accepted gender roles.26
This treatment of the Noli me tangere in the written and spoken word
had ramifications for the visual culture. For example, the iconography of
the Noli me tangere does not even enter the visual lexicon until the Caro-
lingian and Ottonian periods.27 These first representations appeared at
a time when the repertoire of Christological subjects was expanded by
imperial artists. They are also well suited to the propagandistic functions
of imperial art, which often alluded to the foundation of a new order
husbands and children. They were, however, discouraged from speaking in public. See Sha-
ron Farmer, “Persuasive Voices: Clerical Images of Medieval Wives,” Speculum 61/3 (1986):
517–42; see also Nicole Bériou, “La Madeleine dans les sermons parisiens du XIIIe siècle,”
Mélanges de l’École française de Rome. Moyen âge (M.E.F.R.M) 140/1 (1992): 269–340.
25 Pseudo-Bonaventure, Meditations on the Life of Christ: An Illustrated Manuscript of
the 14th Century (Paris BN Ms. Ital. 115), trans. I. Ragusa and R. Green (Princeton: Princeton
University Press, 1961), 359; Psuedo-Cavalca, The Life of Saint Mary Magdalen translated
from the Italian of an Unknown Fourteenth Century Writer, trans. V. Hawtrey (London: John
Lane, Bodley Head, 1904), 280–82. In the Golden Legend Voragine acknowledges that Mary
Magdalene was the first witness to the Resurrection, but asserts that it was specifically
because she was a sinner. Christ appeared to her for five reasons, he writes, because she
loved him more ardently, to prove that he died for all sinners, because harlots go before
the wise to heaven, so that womankind could bring news of life just as she had brought
news of death, and finally, so as to demonstrate that grace would now abound where sin
once had. Jacobus de Voragine, The Golden Legend (1266), trans. W.G. Ryan (Princeton:
Princeton University Press, 1993), vol. 1, 220.
26 The Magdalene’s former life as a sexual sinner was frequently invoked by preachers
to address the “frailties” of ordinary women: the sins of vanity, luxury and lust. Thus, she
was not only held out by preachers as an exemplar for women, but also for their fathers
and husbands, who ostensibly had a say in the conduct of the women of their households.
Since, as Jansen points out, it was frequently suggested that it was a lack of male control
or oversight in the Magdalene’s life that had led to her moral collapse, her fall into sin was
offered as a justification for “controlling, guiding, subjecting, and supervising women”—
what is considered the basis of medieval gender discourse. Katherine L. Jansen, “Mary
Magdalen and the Mendicants in late Medieval Italy” (PhD diss., Princeton University,
1995), 135–36, 190; see also Ruth M. Karras, “Holy Harlots: Prostitute Saints in Medieval
Legend,” Journal of the History of Sexuality 1/1 (1990), 3–33.
27 Lisa M. Rafanelli, “To Touch or Not to Touch: The Noli Me Tangere and Incredulity
of Thomas in Word and Image from Early Christianity to the Ottonian period,” in Noli Me
Tangere: Text Image Context, 135–74; see also Rafanelli, Ambiguity, chs. 1–2. The work of
Dr. Barbara Baert is also critical in this field.
and depicted the emperor as a Christ-like figure. And yet, there may
have been more to it—because alternative iconographies to the Noli me
tangere already existed, including the incredulity of Thomas, visit of the
myrrhophores to the grave, and the Chairete. One tantalizing detail left
out of most accounts is that at the moment in time when the image first
emerges, women, especially in the Ottonian court, had unprecedented
access to power, knowledge, and influence. Thus, as I have suggested
elsewhere, it seems possible that a certain shift in expectations for female
behavior—in this most rarified of settings—fueled interest in an image
type that celebrated a privileged, enlightened, and active woman, while
also affirming royal patriarchal power.28
Images of the Noli me tangere can be found in both Christological
and Magdalenian cycles throughout the Middle Ages as the cult of the
Magdalene spread in the West.29 Nevertheless, the Noli me tangere does
not appear within autonomous works of art with any regularity until the
sixteenth century. Once again, this phenomenon must be tied to related
cultural shifts. The new-found popularity of the Noli me tangere in the
sixteenth century may not only signify the changing standards of decorum
for the representation of women in this period, but also the changing sta-
tus of women as patrons and viewers. Thus, it is not coincidental that the
audience for these images was often comprised of women: lay or devout,
fallen or rehabilitated, repentant, contemplative or active, humble or elite.
Despite their differences, these women all identified with the Magdalene—
not just the fractured Magdalene they were presented with in public (the
sinful penitent), but with a more fully fleshed-out Magdalene—a woman
both flawed and empowered.30 Women, in other words, knew how they
wanted to see themselves and their gender represented, and at times had
the ability or means to realize that vision.
The ways in which Michelangelo’s Noli me tangere for Vittoria Colonna
challenges convention reinforces this observation. The unique portrayal
of the Magdalene reflects not only the growing awareness of the value
of women, particularly among women, but also Colonna’s personal devo-
tion to the Magdalene and active participation in the contemporary pro-
feminist dialogue.
28 Rafanelli, “To Touch or Not to Touch,” 171–73.

29 The most comprehensive treatment of the cult of the Magdalene in the West is still
Saxer, Le Culte de Marie-Madeleine, 1959.
30 Rafanelli, Ambiguity, Ch. 6.
The Debate over the Status of Women in the Renaissance
A full-fledged literary movement concerned with the status of women

blossomed in the sixteenth century, especially in Italian humanist circles.
The debate, always heated if not always serious, is often referred to by the
French term, Querelle des Femmes. Privileged, educated, and elite women
often participated in these debates as authors, patrons, or recipients of
written treatises.31 The terms are relatively familiar. Authors responded
directly or indirectly to each other, or wrote colloquies in which both
sides of an argument were presented. Some rationalized traditionally held
beliefs about female inferiority, unworthiness, and incapacity, suggesting
that their sinful proclivities and inability to speak truthfully were a valid
basis for restrictions placed on women’s education and participation in
public life. These restrictions protected men from the wiles of women,
protected women from themselves, and ensured that women maintained
their domestic roles. Examples of past female bravery, accomplishment,
or success of one kind or another were often treated as aberrational—
females who acted like males.32
These voices were countered by those who argued for women’s equality
with men, and who presented as proof tales of the heroism, steadfastness,
and extraordinary piety of ancient, biblical, and contemporary women of
note. Saint Mary Magdalene was frequently invoked in these debates, not
as proof of female frailty, but as proof of the value of women. For example,
in Il Cortegiano (1528), Baldassare Castiglione discussed the relative merits
31 Joan Kelly, “Early Feminist Theory and the ‘Querelle des Femmes,’ ” 1400–1789, Signs:
Journal of Women in Culture and Society 8 (1982): 4–28; Pamela J. Benson, The Invention
of the Renaissance Woman: The Challenge of Female Independence in the Literature and
Thought of Italy and England (University Park: Penn State Press, 1992); Constance Jordan,
Renaissance Feminism: Literary Texts and Political Models (Ithaca: Cornell University Press,
1990), esp. 308–11; Constance Jordan, “Review Essay: Listening to ‘The Other Voice’ in Early
Modern Europe,” Renaissance Quarterly 51 (1998): 184–92. For an extensive bibliography
of treatises extolling the worth of women, many of which were dedicated to and com-
missioned by or for women, see also Conor Fahy, “Three Early Renaissance Treatises
on Women,” Italian Studies 11 (1956): 30–55; and Werner Gundersheimer, “Bartolommeo
Goggio: A Feminist in Renaissance Ferrara,” Renaissance Quarterly 33 (1980): 175–200. On
the elitism of the “movement,” see Kelly, “Early Feminist Theory,” 7.
32 On this point, see Beyond Their Sex: Learned Women of the European Past, ed. Patricia
H. Labalme (New York: New York University Press, 1980). Curiously, Mary Magdalene chal-
lenges traditional gender stereotypes by acting like a man—she is enlightened, powerful,
and she speaks. The Saint’s ‘masculine’ characteristics are discussed at length in third-
century Gnostic writings. For the Magdalene in Gnosticism, see Antti Marjanen, The
Woman Jesus Loved: Mary Magdalene in the Nag Hammadi Library and Related Documents
(Leiden: Brill, 1996); Haskins, Myth and Metaphor, chapter 2.
of the feminine sex. When Giuliano il Magnifico is asked whether women

can achieve a state of grace, he replies,
women would not be surpassed by men in the slightest as far as this is con-
cerned: for Socrates himself confessed that all the mysteries of love that he
knew had been revealed to him by a woman. . . . You should also remem-
ber that many sins were forgiven Saint Mary Magdalene because she loved
much and that she, perhaps in no less a state of grace than Saint Paul, was
many times rapt to the third heaven by angelic love. . . .33
There is more to the story, however, because the Magdalene’s specific role
as first witness to the Resurrection was used by certain writers to demon-
strate the equality—if not superiority—of women, their privilege in the
eyes of God, the constancy of their faith, and the truth, importance, and
reliability of their words. Christine de Pizan, whose writings may have
initiated the Querelle, makes specific reference to the Magdalene’s words
in her treatise, The Book of the City of Ladies (1405), in support of the cause
of free speech for women:
God endowed women with the faculty of speech—may He be praised for
it—for had He not done so, they would be speechless. But in refutation of
what this proverb says (which someone, I don’t know who, invented deliber-
ately to attack them), if women’s language had been so blameworthy and of
such small authority, as some men argue, our Lord Jesus Christ would never
have deigned to wish that so worthy a mystery as His most gracious resur-
rection be first announced by a woman, just as He commanded the blessed
Magdalene, to whom He first appeared on Easter, to report and announce it
to His apostles and to Peter. Blessed God, may you be praised, who, among
the other infinite boons and favors You have bestowed upon the feminine
sex, desired that woman carry such lofty and worthy news.34
Henricus Cornelius Agrippa (von Nettesheim)’s Declamation on the Nobil-
ity and Preeminence of the Female Sex written in 1509 and published in
1529 (but known in Italy by at least 1525–6) offers the Magdalene’s privi-
leged role as first witness and her announcement to the disbelieving male
apostles in support of his argument for female equality,
We know also, through the Gospels, the constancy of Mary Magdalene in
her faith. For while the priests and the Jews crucify Christ, she cries, carries
unguents to the cross, looks for Christ in the tomb, interrogates a gardener,
33 Baldassare Castiglione, The Book of the Courtier, trans. G. Bull (New York and London:
Penguin, 1976), Book Four, 344.
34 Christine de Pizan, The Book of the City of Ladies, trans. E.J. Richards (New York:
Persea, 1998), Section I.10.5.
recognizes God. She hastens to tell the apostles and announces to them that
Christ is risen. But they doubt what she believes.35
Lodovico Domenichi extols the Magdalene in terms drawn largely from
Agrippa.36 Similarly, Luigi Dardano writes of the Magdalene that “[t]he
steady faith of this beautiful, rich, powerful spirit was so strong she
deserved to be called Apostle.”37 In all of these texts, the Magdalene’s role
as first witness to the Resurrection and Apostle to the Apostles is seen as
proof positive of the strength, piety, wisdom, and worth of women.
Vittoria Colonna and Saint Mary Magdalene
It seems more than coincidental that the patron of Michelangelo’s car-

toon of the Noli me tangere, Vittoria Colonna, Marchesa of Pesacara
(1490–1547)38 was not only an avid devotee of Saint Mary Magdalene, but
35 Henricus Cornelius Agrippa, Declamation on the Nobility and Preeminence of the

Female Sex, trans. A. Rabil (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1997), 77–78. Agrippa’s
work was apparently known to Italian humanists well in advance of its 1544 translation.
According to Benson, the first defense of women to be published in Italian and based on
Agrippa’s work was Galeazzo Flavio Cappella (Capra)’s Della Eccellenza et dignità della
donna, which dates to 1525–6. Benson, Invention of the Renaissance Woman, 66.
36 Lodovico Domenichi, La nobilita delle Donne (Venice: G. Giolito di Ferrari, 1549),
Libro Terzo, Folio 110 v (“Et quanta fosse le costanza e fede della Maddalena, ci è manifesto
per li sacri evangeli; perchioche essa, mentre gli huomini scelerati crocifiggono Christo;
piange a pie delle croce, porta gli onguenti, lo cercanel sepolcro, e in forma d’hortolano lo
riconosce Iddio; corre a trovar gli Apostoli; da loro ha nuova, ch’egli è risuscitato; essi ne
stanno in dubbio; e elle confida.”)
37 La bella e dotta difesa delle donne di meser Luigi Dardano gran cancelliere
dell’illustrissimo Senato Vinitiano, contro gli accusatori. . . . (Venice 1554), cited in trans-
lation in Lynne Lawner, Lives of the Courtesans. Portraits of the Renaissance (New York:
Rizzoli, 1987), 182.
38 Vittoria Colonna was born to a noble Roman family and received a humanist educa-
tion. (On the education of women and the role of women in the humanist movement, see
Beyond their Sex, especially the essays by Ferrante, King, and Kristeller). Colonna married
Francesco d’Avalos, the Marquis of Pescara, a Spanish and Neapolitan noble, at the age of
seventeen. D’Avalos fought alongside Popes Julius II, Leo X, and Clement VII. He died in
1525 after defeating the French King, François I at Pavia. Thereafter, Vittoria Colonna, a
widow at 22, became a member of papal circles in Rome. Today she is best known for her
involvement with early Italian religious reformers, the corpus of her poetry—particularly
the spiritual poetry of the 1540s—and her friendship with Michelangelo. The bibliography
on Vittoria Colonna is vast. See Vittoria Colonna Dichterin und Muse Michelangelos, ed.
Sylvia Ferino-Pagden (Vienna: Skira, 1997) which contains essays addressing all aspects of
her life, art, and influence, and provides an up-to-date bibliography. For Colonna’s poems
and letters, see Carteggio di Vittoria Colonna, Marchesa di Pescara, ed. E. Ferrero and
G. Müller (Turin: Sloescher, 1889); Vittoria Colonna, Rime, ed. A. Bullock (Rome: Laterza
Pub., 1982).
was also familiar with the dialogue on the Magdalene’s importance in the
literature of the Querelle des Femmes.39
Colonna was involved in causes associated with the saint, including
the reform of prostitutes, and was associated with the Convent of the
Convertite dedicated to Saint Mary Magdalene in Rome (established by
a 1520 papal bull issued by Leo X).40 She planned to make a pilgrimage
to Provence to visit the Magdalene’s relic sites (ironically, normally off-
limits to women). Although she never made the trip, a letter dated March
13, 1537 from Pope Paul III granted her permission.41 Colonna also col-
lected images of the saint, including the Michelangelo Noli me tangere42
39 In Rome in the 1520s Colonna befriended Pietro Bembo, who may have introduced
her to Baldassare Castiglione. In 1524 Castiglione sent the Marchesa a copy of Il Corteg-
iano. The two corresponded about it, and according to Gibaldi, Colonna began to circulate
the text almost immediately. Joseph Gibaldi,“Vittoria Colonna: Child, Woman, and Poet,”
in Women Writers of the Renaissance and Reformation, ed. K.M. Wilson (Athens: Univ.
of Georgia Press, 1987), 22–47, esp. 24. For the correspondence, see Carteggio di Vittoria
Colonna, Letter 19 (1525), 26–27; and Letter 34 (1527), 48–51. As mentioned, Castiglione
discusses the relative merits of the feminine sex in his book—and holds the Magdalene
out as proof that women are in fact able to achieve a state of grace, a purely intellectual
love and comprehension of the divine. Wood cites Colonna’s praise of Castiglione’s text,
particularly his characterization of the “continentia e virtù de le donne.” Jeryldene Wood,
“Vittoria Colonna’s ‘Mary Magdalen,’ ” Visions of Holiness. Art and Devotion in Renaissance
Italy, ed. A. Ladis and S. Zuraw (Athens: Georgia Museum of Art, 2001), 195–212, esp. 201,
and note 30. Finally, in 1532, Vittoria Colonna’s cousin, Cardinal Pompeo Colonna, penned
an Apologia pro mulieribus that he dedicated to her (Rome, Biblioteca Apostolica Vaticana,
Cod. Vat. Lat. Miscellaneo, Nr. 5892). On this tract, see Vittoria Colonna Dichterin, Cat. I.9;
for the full text, see Guglielmo Zappacosta, Studi e ricerche sull’umanesimo italiano (Ber-
gamo: Minerva Italica, 1972), 159–246.
40 Sherril Cohen, The Evolution of Women’s Asylums Since 1500: From Refuges for Ex-
Prostitutes to Shelters for Battered Women (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1992), 17.
41 Carteggio di Vittoria Colonna, Letter 79, 131–32.
42 At this point, a word or two of clarification about the painted copies is in order. For
a thorough review of the documentary history of Michelangelo’s Noli me tangere com-
mission, see Michael Hirst and Gudula Mayr, “Michelangelo, Pontormo und das ‘Noli Me
Tangere’ für Vittoria Colonna,” in Vittoria Colonna Dichterin und Muse, 335–44. In 1531
Michelangelo was asked by Nicolas von Schomberg, Archbishop of Capua and recently
appointed papal governor of Florence (as well as former prior of San Marco, and Procura-
tor General of the Dominican order to the Vatican), on behalf of Alfonso d’Avalos, the
Marchese del Vasto, to prepare a painting presumably of an already agreed upon subject
Visions of Holiness the Noli Me Tangere. As Wilde first proposed in 1953, d’Avalos was not
acting for his own benefit, but on behalf of Vittoria Colonna, the Marchesa of Pescara, his
aunt and adoptive mother. This is confirmed in part by a letter, dated May 19, 1531, writ-
ten by Giovanni Borromeo, Mantuan ambassador to Florence, and addressed to Federico
Gonzaga in Mantua, which states that the painting was given to Colonna. This letter is
cited by Johannes Wilde, Italian Drawings in the Department of Prints and Drawings in the
British Museum, Michelangelo and his Studio (London: British Museum, 1953), 106, note 1.
For the letter, see Alessandro Luzio, La Galleria dei Gonzaga venduta all’Inghilterra nel
1627–28 (Rome: Bardi, 1974), 249.
On April 11, 1531, Giovanbattista Figiovanni, Prior of San Lorenzo and confidant of the
Medici Pope, Clement VII, urged Michelangelo to carry out the painting requested by
Schomberg, who remained in communication with the Marchese del Vasto. Figiovanni
suggested that in the meantime, Michelangelo send him a drawing. He also reminded
the artist to take heed of the intended setting for the painting, “non di manco, pensate che
ànno a stare più presto in camere, e piccole, che in sala o chiesa.” This letter is connected to
the Noli me tangere cartoon and painting by Wallace, “Il ‘Noli Me Tangere’,” 443; Phillipe
Costamagna, Pontormo (Milan: Electa, 1994), 215; and Hirst and Mayr, “Michelangelo, Pon-
tormo und das ‘Noli Me Tangere’,” 335, and note 4. The letter can be found in Il Carteggio
di Michelangelo, ed. P. Barocchi and R. Ristori (Florence: Sansedoni, 1973), vol. III, 301. In a
second letter dated October 27, 1531, Figiovanni tells Michelangelo that the Marchese del
Vasto is arriving in Florence, and that he is hoping to see the picture of the Magdalene.
This letter is connected to the Noli Me Tangere commission by Wallace, and Hirst and
Mayr. For the letter, see Il Carteggio di Michelangelo, III, 328.
Although Michelangelo was to have finished the painting in his own hand, he prepared
only a drawing, or cartoon, leaving the execution of the painting itself to Pontormo. It
appears that Michelangelo approved of, and at least according to Vasari, played a role in
the selection of Pontormo as the artist to execute the painting. In the Vita of Pontormo,
Vasari writes, “[i]n questo mezzo, avendo il signor Alfonso Davalo marchese del Guasto
ottenuto, per mezzo di fra’ Niccolò della Magna, da Michelangelo Buonarroti un cartone
d’un Cristo che appare alla Maddalena nell’orto, fece ogni opera d’avere il Puntormo che
glielo conducesse di pittura, avendogli detto il Buonarotto che niuno poteva meglio ser-
virlo di costui. Avendo dunque condotta Iacopo questa opera a perfezzione, ella fu stimata
pittura rara per la grandezza del disegno di Michelangelo e per lo colorito di Iacopo.”
Giorgio Vasari, Le Vite de’ Più Eccellenti Pittori, Scultori ed Architettori, ed. P. Barocchi
(Florence: Studio per Edizione Scelte, 1967), V, 326. In a letter of late October-early Novem-
ber 1531, Figiovanni tells Michelangelo that Schomberg was pleased that another artist was
going to execute the painting. Hirst and Mayr, “Michelangelo, Pontormo und das ‘Noli Me
Tangere’,” 336, and note 7. For the letter, see Il Carteggio di Michelangelo, III, 339–40. Vasari
recounts further that Pontormo also painted a second copy of the Noli Me Tangere based
on Michelangelo’s cartoon for Condottiere Alessandro Vitelli, “onde avendola veduta il
signor Alessandro Vitelli, il quale era allora in Fiorenza capitano della guardia de’soldati,
si fece fare da Iacopo un quadro del medesimo cartone, il quale mandò a fe’ porre nelle
sue case a Città di Castello.” Vasari-Barocchi, vol. V, 326.
For a long time, the Casa Buonarroti panel, Florence (Inv. No. 1890 n. 6302) (illustrated
here as fig. 8.1) was thought to be the original Colonna commission, painted by Pontormo.
In 1956, however, a second painting from a private collection in Italy (near Milan) came
to light. On the basis of style, and the smaller size of the panel, this painting has is now
almost universally accepted as the first painted version of Michelangelo’s cartoon, the
one intended for Vittoria Colonna, and therefore the one executed by Pontormo. Further,
despite Vasari’s claims that Pontormo painted two versions of the cartoon, most schol-
ars now attribute the Casa Buonarroti painting to Bronzino (with the notable exception
of William Wallace, who maintains Pontormo’s authorship and the primacy of the Casa
Buonarroti panel).
By 1537 Michelangelo’s cartoon entered the collections of Cosimo I de’Medici. Vasari-
Barocchi, vol. V, 461. Around this time, Battista Franco made both another scaled-up copy
of the cartoon and a third painting based upon this second cartoon for Cosimo I de’Medici.
Vasari-Barocchi, vol. V, 461 (“fu cagione che Battista fu messo al servizio del duca Cosimo
et a lavorare in guardaroba . . . avendo nella medesima guardaroba veduto il cartone di
Michelangolo del Noli Me Tangere, che aveva già colorito il Puntormo, si mise a far un car-
tone simile, ma di figure maggiori; e ciò fatto, ne dipinse un quadro, nel quale si portò molto
meglio quanto al colorito; et il cartone che ritrasse, come stava apunto quel del Buonar-
roto, fu bellisimo e fatto con molto piacenza”). This painting was listed in the inventory of
the Medici Guardaroba (the Sala del Quartiere Nuovo) by 1553, and was in the Palazzo Pitti
and a penitent Magdalene by Titian (c. 1531).43 In 1533, Colonna also

made an attempt to purchase a painting of the Magdalene in the wilder-
ness, perhaps by Correggio.44 Although there is speculation as to why she
sought so many paintings of the Magdalene in the 1530s,45 one aspect of
her motivation is obvious: she was a devotee of the saint in all of her
guises—active, contemplative, penitent—and such a variety of images
could encourage devotion to the various modes of piety exhibited by the
Magdalene. It is a speculative but tantalizing possibility that the images
might even have been hung in such as way so as to engage in a paragone
with one another.46
by 1637. Costamagna, Pontormo, 217 (citing Archivio di Stato, Florence, Guardaroba 525,
c. 62). Today it is also in the Casa Buonarroti (Inv. No. 1890 n. 6307). It should be noted
that there is yet another version of the Noli Me Tangere, today located in Dayton Art Insti-
tute, also attributed to Franco. See Kent Sobotik, “Michelangelo’s lost ‘Noli Me Tangere’,”
Dayton Art Institute Bulletin 38 (1982): 5–8. Sometime after 1537 Michelangelo’s original
cartoon was lost.
43 While it was long assumed that Colonna was presented with Titian’s Pitti Palace
Magdalene, this is no longer universally accepted. Nevertheless, it is thought that she
owned a painting similar to it. The literature on the spiritual “meaning” of Titian’s image
type, and the possible motivations for Colonna’s patronage is vast. For the most recent
analyses, see Bernard Aikema “Titian’s Mary Magdalen in the Palazzo Pitti: An Ambiguous
Painting and its Critics,” J.W.C.I. 57 (1994): 48–59; Marjorie Och, “Vittoria Colonna and the
Commission for a ‘Mary Magdalene’ by Titian,” in Beyond Isabella, 193–206; and Wood,
“Vittoria Colonna’s ‘Mary Magdalen’.”
44 Specifically, Colonna sought a Correggio owned by Isabella d’Este. The painting, now
lost, is believed to have been described in a letter of 1528 by Veronica Gambara to Isabella
as a Magdalene kneeling in the wilderness with her hands clasped in prayer. Hirst and
Mayr, “Michelangelo, Pontormo und das ‘Noli Me Tangere’,” 343, note 17; for a full account
of the lost painting, see David Ekserdjian, Correggio (New Haven and London: Yale Uni-
versity Press, 1997), 172; for a transcription of the letter see Cecil Gould, The Paintings of
Correggio (Ithaca: Cornell University Press, 1976), 186.
45 Och suggests that Colonna may have intended to place these paintings in a chapel,
perhaps in the convent of the Holy Claires of the Franciscan order that she wanted to
build (but never did) on the Quirinal Hill in Rome. Marjorie Och, “Vittoria Colonna: Art
Patronage and Religious Reform in Sixteenth-Century Rome” (PhD diss., Bryn Mawr Col-
lege, 1993), 171–81.
46 Interestingly, in the early seventeenth century, Federico Borromeo, Archbishop
of Milan, appears to have taken similar pleasure in his many different pictures of the
Magdalene. He owned Bernardino Luini’s Magdalene holding an ointment jar (today in
the National Gallery in Washington, 1961.9.56), as well as a Penitent Magdalene by Titian’s
workshop (Pinacoteca Ambrosiana, Inv. No. 208). In his Museaum (1625), he writes that he
hung these two paintings as pendants. In Section 24, he says of Titian’s painting, “one must
admire exceedingly the fact that the artist knew how to maintain an honest appearance in
a nude.” For the English translation, see Arlene Quint, “Cardinal Federico Borromeo as a
Patron and a Critic of the Arts and his Museaum of 1625,” (New York: Garland, 1986), 244.
In Sections 25–26 he writes, “[i]n the same room, which is a true sanctuary of art, are to
be witnessed two great battles: the one is being fought by two Magdalens. . . . Of the first
Magdalen, a work by Titian, we have already spoken. This other is by Luini Senior, but it
Colonna’s own letters and poems reveal her admiration for the
Magdalene’s piety, charity, and penitential fervor. For this reason, many
scholars stress the importance of the penitent saint as a role model for Col-
onna, which indeed she was. But Colonna’s interest extended well beyond
the saint’s role as a penitent; Colonna deeply admired the Magdalene in
her empowered roles of witness and annunciatrix. In fact, Colonna cel-
ebrated the Magdalene’s strength and active role in the faith, particularly
as first witness to the Resurrection, in terms that are similar to those artic-
ulated in the body of literature concerned with the status of women.
In a letter written toward the end of her life (c. 1544–45) to her hus-
band’s aunt, Costanza d’Avalos [Piccolomini], Colonna writes,
I think of how that beloved disciple merited the privilege of being the first
of all to see the glorious resurrected Lord, Who, thankful, thus rewarded her
ardor, her perseverance and her dear and faithful love. And to prove further
that she was his apostle [apostola], He commanded that she be the messen-
ger [annunciatrice] to bring the disciples the news of His resurrection . . . She
became the most perfect herald [pronunciatrice] of the Divine Word . . .47
Similar sentiment is expressed in her Spiritual Poem (No. 8),
Seized in her sadness by that great desire
which banishes all fear, this beautiful woman,
all alone, by night, helpless, humble, pure,
and armed only with a living, burning hope.
Entered the sepulcher and wept and lamented;
ignoring the angels, caring nothing for herself,
she fell at the feet of the Lord, secure,
for her heart, aflame with love, feared nothing.
appears to be by Leonardo, from whom perhaps Luini took the drawing. . . . There is so
much life in this head that the Magdalene by Titian in comparison seems dead, and not a
woman, but the shadow of a woman. But if the face lacks action, it fulfills for the rest all
its other functions, she turns to whomever looks at her and opens the small vase suited
to oil the body of the savior.” Quint, “Cardinal Federico Borromeo,” 245. Jones suggests
that Borromeo saw the two images as evoking two stages of prayer—Titian’s penitent
Magdalene as the more earthbound, in contrast with that of Luini’s where the Magdalene
is consumed by more pure love. Pamela Jones, Federico Borromeo and the Ambrosiana:
Art Patronage and Reform in Seventeenth-Century Milan (Cambridge: Cambridge University
Press, 1993), 75.
47 English translation by Gibaldi, “Vittoria Colonna: Child, Woman, and Poet,” 31
(emphasis mine). For the original text see Carteggio di Vittoria Colonna, Letter 170, 299–302
(“Considero che quella amata discepola meritò prima di tutti veder il glorioso immortale
dando chiaro testimonio il Signor grato quanto il suo ardorre, la sua perseveranza et il suo
fido et accetto amore gli fosse piaciuto. Et per certificarla che era sua apostola, le comandò
che fosse la prima annunciatrice de al aspetta novella et del mirabil mistero della sua res-
urrectione. [] . . . fatta poi perfettissima et dotta pronunciatrice del Verbo divino. . . .”).
And the men, chosen to share so many graces,

though strong, were shut up together in fear;
the true Light seemed to them only a shadow.
If, then, the true is not a friend to the false,
we must give to women all due recognition
for having a more loving and more constant heart.48
Colonna refers specifically to the Magdalene as proof of the spiritual supe-
riority of women, who exhibit greater love, constancy and strength than
the male apostles.
Colonna likened herself to the Magdalene in a letter dated June 22,
1544 and excused her own presumption at writing to Cardinal Giovanni
Morone—implying that the cardinal might forgive her words the way that
Christ forgave the Magdalene for hers. She then suggests that the cardinal,
also like the Magdalene, would probably have preferred a life of contem-
plation and retreat, but that he was compelled by Christ to actively serve
his brothers, as the Magdalene did.49 Even Colonna’s contemporaries
48 English translation by Gibaldi, “Vittoria Colonna: Child, Woman, and Poet,” 42

(emphasis mine). The original text can be found in Vittoria Colonna, Rime, Spirituali I,
Poem 155, 162:
La bella donna, a cui dolente preme
quel gran desio che sgombra ogni paura,
di notte, sola, inerme, umile e pura,
armata sol di viva ardente speme,
entra dentro ‘l sepolcro, e piange e geme;
gli angeli lascia e più di sé non cura,
ma a’ piedi del Signor cade sicura,
ché ‘l cor, ch’arde d’amor, di nulla teme.
Ed agli uomini, eletti a grazie tante,
fonti, insieme richiusi, il Lume vero
per timor parve nudo spirito ed ombra;
onde, se ‘l ver dal falso non s’adombra,
convien dar a le donne il preggio intero
d’aver il cor più acceso e più constante.
49 The section in question reads as follows: “Et certo considerando Maria discipula
amata del Sig.re, me recordai più particularm[en]te della S.V. [Signora Vostra] parendomi,
che V.S. [Vostra Signoria] quasi un simil modo con lei: perchè, havendo tenuta Maria alli
suoi piedi, in molte consolationi pascendola spesso, della sua parola escusandola sempre,
la chiamò poi con più interna vocatione a maggior opera, quando cercandolo, resuscitato li
apparve; et, intendendo lei la voce amata dirli: “Maria,” cognobbe col core il Maestro in altra
più divina cognitione, et più che mai desiderava toccarlo [trovarlo], et consolarsi seco, ma
lui li mostrò altra strada, cioè il toccarlo, vederlo et servilo nelli suoi fratelli, dicendoli che
andassi a loro. Et così V. S. benché sempre sia stato [stata] in consolationi interiori, tamen
in quest’altra penetrativa voce et più interior cognitione quando più li piaceva strengersi
seco et abbracciarlo, l’ha mandato a servirlo nelli fratelli in altro modo che non desiderava.”
For the full text of the letter, see Nuovi Documenti su Vittoria Colonna e Reginald Pole, ed.
S.M. Pagano and C. Ranieri (Vatican City: Archivio Vaticano, 1989), 155–58 (parentheticals
occasionally compared her to the saint. For example, she was described
in a 1543 publication as a disciple of Franciscan reformer, Bernardino
Ochino, just as the Magdalene had been a disciple of Christ.50 In the
1530s Ludovico Ariosto revised his Orlando Furioso, adding a section on
the many excellent women writers of his age. Although his description
of Colonna, mentioned by name, conforms to standard tropes of praise,
it also subtly evokes her role model, Mary Magdalene. “This woman,” he
writes, “has not only made herself immortal with a sweet style that has not
been surpassed; but whomever she speaks or writes about she can draw
from the tomb and give eternal life.”51 Thus, the power of Colonna’s words
had the same effect as the Magdalene’s words after Christ’s Resurrection.
Just as the Magdalene brought the news of Christ’s rebirth to the world of
Christ’s rebirth and thereby helped to found the Church, Colonna’s words
could grant similar immortality.
The importance of Mary Magdalene in the literature of the Querelle des
Femmes and the devotion of Vittoria Colonna to the saint must be taken
into account when considering Michelangelo’s Noli me tangere lost car-
toon. Based upon the evidence of the painted copies, Michelangelo placed
considerable emphasis on Mary Magdalene’s roles as witness to the Res-
urrection, annunciatrix of the news, and perhaps even as an intercessor.52
included by authors to indicate possible alternative transcriptions and/or clarifications);

see also Carteggio di Vittoria Colonna, Letter 164, 277–79. My thanks to Avv. Prof. Vincenzo
Franceschelli and Dott.ssa Elena Lombardi for correcting my translation of this letter.
50 Hirst and Mayr, “Michelangelo, Pontormo und das ‘Noli Me Tangere’,” 336, and note 21
(citing Massimo Firpo, “Vittoria Colonna, Giovanni Morone e gli ‘spirituali,’ ” Inquisizione
Romana a Controriforma, Studi sul Cardinal Giovanni Morone e il suo processo d’eresia
(Bologna: Il Mulino, 1992), 167 (“divotissimo padre Fra Bernardino da Siena . . . di cui ella
[Colonna] non men Maddalena già di Christo si mostra discepola.”) The preaching of Ber-
nardino Ochino, a Capuchin Franciscan reformer, became very important to Colonna in
the later years of her life. Ochino also appears to have had a special dedication to the
penitential Magdalene. He preached about her penitence in a sermon delivered in Venice
in 1539. Haskins, Myth and Metaphor, 276. He also visited the sacred sites of her cult in
Saint Baume—a place Colonna very much wanted to visit.
51 English translation by Gibaldi, “Vittoria Colonna: Child, Woman, and Poet,” 22. The
original text from Lodovico Ariosto, Orlando Furioso (Ferrara 1516; expanded 1532), Canto 37,
paragraph 16 reads:
Quest’una ha non pur sé fatta immortale
col dolce stil di che il meglior non odo;
ma può qualunque di cui parli o scriva
trar del sepolcro, e far ch’eterno viva.
52 This too is in keeping with Colonna’s expectations. In her Spiritual Poem 121, Colonna
appeals to the Magdalene, exhorting her to “beseech the Lord a place for me next to her.”
Donna accesa animosa, e da l’errante
vulgo lontana, in soletario albergo
Thus, even if as of the date of the cartoon, Michelangelo and Colonna

were not yet intimate friends,53 it is clear that Michelangelo’s composi-
tional choices were intended to give rhetorical clarity and visual form to
the Magdalene’s privilege, stature, and active role in the faith, without
making reference to her more sinful, penitential side.54 It also seems clear
that this was done with the devotional needs and cultural expectations of
Colonna in mind.55
parmi lieta veder, lasciando a tergo

quanto non piace al vero eterno Amante,
e, fermato il desio, fermar le painte
sovra un gran monte; ond’io mi specchio e tergo
nel bello exempio, e l’alma drizzo ed ergo
dietro l’orme beate e l’opre sante.
L’alta spelonca sua questa alto scoglio
mi rassembra, e ‘l gran sol il suo gran foco
ch’ogni animo gentil anco riscalda;
in tal pensier da vil nodo mi scioglio,
pregando lei con voce ardita e balda
m’impetri dal Signor appo sé loco.
Vittoria Colonna, Rime, Spiritual Poems I, Poem 121, 145.
53 As noted, Colonna was a well-known figure in her own right, and since her husband’s
death, a fixture in papal circles. Hirst and Mayr’s suggestion that there may have been a
political dimension to the Colonna commission adds greater urgency to the suggestion
that Michelangelo wanted to please his patroness with this composition. Michelangelo
faced a death warrant as a collaborator in the 1527 rebellion against the Medici. He was
granted amnesty at the urging of Pope Clement VII, but in return, was obliged to turn his
attention to Medicean projects. In a papal brief dated October 21, 1531, Clement VII wrote
to Michelangelo that he should focus on “opera nostra.” Hirst and Mayr, “Michelangelo,
Pontormo un das ‘Noli Me Tangere’,” 337, and Note 23 (citing G. Vasari, La Vita di Michel-
angelo nelle redazioni del 1550 e 1568, ed. P. Barocchi (Milan and Naples, 1962), vol. III, 1096.
The pope’s representative in Florence thus encouraged Michelangelo to work on Vittoria
Colonna’s painting, since it was destined for a member of the party faithful. If their future
relationship is any indication of his success Michelangelo’s composition was indeed pleas-
ing to Colonna.
54 In the Slade Lectures of 1998, “Michelangelo at the Millennium,” Professor Kathleen
Weil-Garris Brandt suggested that Michelangelo’s Noli me tangere can be understood as
one of a number of images in which the artist reveals his own esteem for women. This
conclusion, which must rest upon the premise that the Magdalene in this image appears
uniquely privileged, helps debunk the entrenched myth that Michelangelo was a misogy-
nist. I would add that Michelangelo may have felt freer to give visual form to his inclina-
tions because of the interests and social stature of his patroness.
55 Some further circumstantial evidence can be offered, albeit only in a footnote,
because there is no reason to assume that either Colonna or Michelangelo knew of its
existence. Nevertheless, the Noli me tangere found in the Ingeborg Psalter, written and
illuminated for Ingeborg, wife of King Philip Augustus (c. 1223, Chantilly, Mus. Condé,
cod. 9, folio 29r), shares a number of traits with Colonna’s Noli me tangere. Here too,
the Magdalene stands to Christ’s right, without the traditional attributes associating her
with past sinfulness. Within the context of the manuscript it would appear that the more
empowered aspects of the Magdalene’s identity—her role as disciple and witness—are
As such, the Colonna commission offers a unique opportunity to

explore questions about gendered spectatorship in the Renaissance, and
can be understood to reflect a moment of transition or change (or at least
hoped for change) as women’s status in religion and society came to be
questioned anew—especially in elite circles. Michelangelo’s Noli me tan-
gere for Vittoria Colonna offers proof that under the right circumstances,
the Magdalene’s voice could be reclaimed by its rightful heirs.
being celebrated by this representation. By way of background, perhaps it is also necessary

to point out that representations of the Magdalene’s post-Resurrection announcement to
the Apostles, the true meaning of the words apostolorum apostola, were virtually unknown
until the eleventh to twelfth centuries. This rarissima of Christological subjects, to bor-
row the phrase from Otto Pächt, appears from time to time in manuscripts, especially in
those commissioned by or for elite female patrons. Rafanelli, Ambiguity, chap. 2, 121–22.
The Ingeborg Psalter also has an illumination of the Apostolorum Apostola on Folio 30v.
Thus, in more than one instance—either by inclusion of a rare iconography, or by altering
the more traditional one (the Noli me tangere), the psalter illuminations reflect the needs
and expectations of a strong patroness. On the psalter generally see Florens Deuchler, Der
Ingeborgpsalter (Berlin: de Gruyter, 1967).
chapter nine
Woman, Why Weepest Thou? Rembrandt’s 1638 Noli me

tangere as a Dutch Calvinist Visual Typology
Bobbi Dykema
In 16381 Rembrandt created a small panel painting titled The Risen Christ
Appearing to Mary Magdalene now housed in the Royal Collection at Buck-
ingham Palace (fig. 9.1).2 The panel depicts the story of Mary Magdalene’s
encounter with Christ outside the tomb on Easter morning (Noli me
tangere). It is one of two paintings by Rembrandt that used the twenti-
eth chapter of the Gospel of John as it source. The placement of Mary
Magdalene relative to Christ makes this panel unique among pictorial rep-
resentations of the Noli me tangere. Rather than facing Christ, Rembrandt
situates the saint with her back to him. The Magdalene catches a glimpse
of Christ as she peers over her right shoulder. Although artists frequently
portrayed the Magdalene and Christ in a landscape setting, because the
scene takes place outdoors as described by John, Rembrandt’s landscape
is especially assertive and dramatic. The encounter occurs before an enor-
mous tree that dominates the painting. Light and dark also play a signifi-
cant role in Rembrandt’s rendition of this theme. He essentially divides
the panel in half with the light-filled, luminous landscape on the left and
the darkness of the tomb on the right. The Dutch artist depicted the pre-
cise moment when Christ spoke Mary’s name and is recognized by her.
Realizing that the figure she perceived to be a gardener was really Christ,
she turns toward him away from the tomb, with its two angels perched on
the sarcophagus. Christ is dressed as a gardener in a white robe, wearing a
broad-brimmed hat and holding a spade. In essence, Rembrandt captured
1 Cynthia A. Schneider has called into question the dating of this panel and its attribu-
tion to Rembrandt. See Cynthia A. Schneider, Rembrandt’s Landscapes (New Haven: Yale,
1990), 235, note 102. Unfortunately, she does not offer any further arguments to substanti-
ate this assertion. However, the Rembrandt Research Project has authenticated the paint-
ing as being from Rembrandt’s hand. Ernst Wetering, A Corpus of Rembrandt Paintings:
Stichting Foundation Rembrandt Research Project vol. 3, trans. D. Cook-Radmore (Boston:
M. Nijhoff Publishers, 1989), A124.
2 Rembrandt’s The Risen Christ Appearing to Mary Magdalene is painted oil on wood
measuring 61 × 49.5 cm.
250 bobbi dykema
Fig. 9.1. Rembrandt Harmenszoon van Rijn, The Risen Christ Appearing to Mary
Magdalene, 1638, oil on wood. Royal Collection, Buckingham Palace, London.
Photo: Royal Collection Trust, HM Queen Elizabeth II 2012.
the moment of revelation when Mary Magdalene became the first witness
to the Resurrection of Christ.
Focusing on Rembrandt’s unique portrayal of Mary Magdalene, this
essay explores what motivated it, considering both pictorial precedents and
the cultural and religious climate of the Dutch Republic. Rembrandt’s ico-
nography deviates from traditional representations of the Noli me tangere
in significant ways. This essay argues that Rembrandt’s new conception
woman, why weepest thou? 251
of the scene reflects Calvinist Protestant theological values, particularly

reading the entire Bible (Old Testament and New Testament) Christologi-
cally. Reflecting the Calvinist emphasis on typology, that is, the manner
in which Old Testament episodes or figures predict the New Testament,
Rembrandt imbued the Magdalene in The Risen Christ with characteristics
of other biblical heroines whom he had portrayed. Thus, the story of the
Resurrection in the New Testament fulfills various Old Testament themes.
Contributing to the Protestant character of Rembrandt’s depiction are its
pictorial sources, which include illustrated printed Dutch Bibles and the
religious prints of Albrecht Dürer. Paving the way for artists to endow reli-
gious scenes with a distinctly Protestant or Catholic meaning is Lucas van
Leyden’s Leyden’s Christ Appearing to Mary Magdalene (1519), which had a
uniquely Catholic agenda. Ultimately, Rembrandt expanded the character
of the Magdalene well beyond Gregory the Great’s composite Magdalene
by adding new layers to her persona. Basing her representation on Old
Testament figures such as the sponsa of the Song of Songs, Eve, and Hagar,
he created a painting which acted as the visual equivalent of Calvinist
typology.
Rembrandt’s Sources in the Pictorial Tradition
In most representations of the Noli me tangere, Mary Magdalene faces

toward Christ, or at least most of her body does. Lisa Rafanelli’s article
in this volume, “Michelangelo’s Noli me tangere for Vittoria Colonna, and
the Changing Status of Women in Renaissance Italy,” also addresses the
significance of the Magdalene’s pose to the interpretation of the painting.
Despite Rembrandt’s unique positioning of the Magdalene with her back
to Christ, several iconographic features of this painting have their source
in earlier representations of the theme. These sources, which can be con-
sidered Protestant in nature or sentiment, contribute to the “Protestant”
character of this image.
Several scholars have described Rembrandt’s religious paintings as
possessing a Protestant character, a reality that may have resulted from
his available sources.3 In the Dutch Republic, which was predominantly
3 E.g. William H. Halewood, Six Subjects of Reformation Art: A Preface to Rembrandt

(Toronto: University of Toronto Press, 1982); D.R. Smith, “Toward a Protestant Aesthetics:
Rembrandt’s 1655 Sacrifice of Isaac,” Art History London 8:3 (1985), 290–302; Robert W.
Baldwin, “ ‘On earth we are beggars, as Christ himself was’: the Protestant Background
252 bobbi dykema
Protestant, Rembrandt did not have the same access to Catholic treat-
ments of religious themes as artists in Catholic countries. Additionally, he
never traveled outside the Dutch Republic.4 Without traditional church
patronage, the art market that developed in the Netherlands was quite
different from that seen elsewhere. While religious paintings continued
to be produced, they had to be created with the aim to please the general
public. The limited availability of Catholic sources does not mean that
Rembrandt was not influenced by earlier images of the Noli me tangere.
Particularly significant in the analysis of Rembrandt’s pictorial sources
are Dutch illustrated bibles. Shelley Perlove demonstrated that the icono-
graphic source for Rembrandt’s 1630 Jeremiah Lamenting the Destruction
of Jerusalem was such a Bible. Iconographic similarities have also been
detected in Rembrandt’s prints and Dutch bibles.5
Production of printed Bibles in the Netherlands began in the last quarter
of the fifteenth century. By the mid-sixteenth century, Dutch and Flemish
printers were supplying Bibles, both in Latin and in a variety of vernacular
languages, to a population of readers newly energized by Lutheran and
Tridentine reforms across Europe. Many of these Bibles were illustrated
with small, fairly simple woodcuts embedded within the text, much like
the illuminated miniatures of earlier generations. The Noli me tangere
from a 1541 Erasmian translation of the Vulgate printed in Antwerp6 is
of Rembrandt’s Imagery of Poverty, Disability, and Begging,” Konsthistorik Tidskrift LIV: 3

(1985): 122–35; Doug Adams, Eyes to See Wholeness: Visual Arts Informing Biblical and Theo-
logical Studies in Education and Worship Through the Church Year (Prescott: Educational
Ministries, 1995), 29, 94; and Jane Dillenberger, Style and Content in Christian Art: From
the Catacombs to the Chapel Designed by Matisse at Venice, France (New York: Abingdon
Press, 1965), 194–99.
4 Simon Schama, Rembrandt’s Eyes (New York: Alfred A. Knopf, 1999), 270.
5 Shelley Perlove, “Templum Christianum: Rembrandt’s Jeremiah Lamenting the
Destruction of Jerusalem (1630),” Gazette des Beaux-Arts 137/1522 (1995): 159–61. Perlove
and Larry Silver also connect Rembrandt’s treatment of the high priest’s garb in his 1630
etching Circumcision of Christ with the woodcut illustration of a Jewish high priest in
Willem Vorsterman’s Antwerp Bible of 1528. Shelley Perlove and Larry Silver, Rembrandt’s
Faith: Church and Temple in the Dutch Golden Age (University Park: Pennsylvania State
University Press, 2009), 193. Finally, Amy Golahny notes that the “oude bijbel ” noted in the
1656 inventory of Rembrandt’s possessions “could have been illustrated.” Amy Golahny,
Rembrandt’s Reading: The Artist’s Bookshelf of Ancient Poetry and History (Amsterdam:
Amsterdam University Press, 2003), 78.
6 The particular edition(s) of illustrated Dutch printed bible(s) owned by or available
to Rembrandt is frustratingly unclear. The 1656 inventory does not specify, and at any rate
Rembrandt had divested much of his property in bankruptcy proceedings by that date.
Perlove and Silver suggest that Rembrandt’s bible was the Vorsterman edition of 1528 or
1532. Perlove and Silver, Rembrandt’s Faith, 193; however, the Noli me tangere woodcut in
that edition is much more traditional than in the Erasmian edition cited here; while the
representative of this theme in Dutch bibles created between 1481–1548

(fig. 9.2). Adhering closely to John 20, Mary Magdalene appears with her
unguent jar, kneeling before Christ. Dressed as a gardener, he wears a
wide-brimmed hat and holds a gardening tool. Background elements in
images from these printed bibles include the angels perched upon the
empty tomb, three empty crosses, a city in the distance, and the rudi-
ments of a garden scene, including trees and plants.
Rembrandt’s The Risen Christ shows a decided connection to the ico-
nography of the Noli me tangere in Dutch printed bibles, particularly in his
treatment of Christ, who also wears a similar long robe and broad-brimmed
Fig. 9.2. Anonymous. Noli me tangere, from Dutch Bible, printed in Antwerp by

Henrick Peetersen van Middleborch, translated from the Vulgate by Desiderius
Erasmus, 1541, woodcut. Photo: Museum of Biblical Art, New York, courtesy of the
Rare Bible Collection @ MOBIA.
figure of Christ does carry a garden implement, he has a halo rather than a hat and wears
a loose toga rather than a long robe.
254 bobbi dykema
Fig. 9.3. Albrecht Dürer, Noli me tangere from the Small Passion, 1509–11, woodcut.
Warburg Institute, London. Photo: Warburg Institute.
gardener’s hat and totes a shovel. However, Rembrandt’s treatment of

Mary Magdalene is quite unique. Rather than standing face to face with
Christ, Rembrandt’s Magdalene kneels, facing away from him, but turning
back to see him.
Along with Dutch bibles, Rembrandt had access to prints. Rembrandt
particularly favored the prints of Albrecht Dürer, buying his prints in bulk
in the 1630s,7 including his Passion series, which featured a representa-
tion of the Noli me tangere (fig. 9.3). While Dürer created numerous works
for Catholic patrons, he was an avid supporter of the teachings of Martin
Luther, and many of his works reflect his Protestant sympathies in their
iconography. The argument could be made that Rembrandt’s use of Dürer
as a source was tied to Protestantism. In Dürer’s image of the Noli me
7 Golahny, Rembrandt’s Reading, 92. Giulia Bartrum notes “numerous visual refer-
ences to Dürer” in Rembrandt’s work, particularly in the 1635 etching of Christ Expelling
the Money-Changers from the Temple. Giulia Bartrum, Albrecht Dürer and His Legacy: The
Graphic Work of a Renaissance Artist (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 2002), 259.
tangere from the Small Passion (1511), Christ and the Magdalene appear
in a large walled garden. In Christ’s left hand he carries a spade, while
with his right hand he makes the traditional gesture of blessing over the
kneeling Mary Magdalene. The other women visitors to the tomb are vis-
ible in the background. The kneeling Mary Magdalene reaches tentatively
toward Christ, whose gesture simultaneously blesses her and averts her
touch. In both Dürer’s Noli me tangere and Rembrandt’s Risen Christ the
figure of Christ is similarly clothed. Additionally, Christ carries a shovel in
both. Another feature common to these works is the centrally-placed tree.
However, Dürer’s version depicts a moment in the episode subsequent to
that of Rembrandt’s; the German artist’s Magdalene clearly recognizes her
Lord, while that of the Dutch master is still in a state of startled confusion.
Dürer was not the only sixteenth-century print artist whom Rembrandt
collected and studied because of their technical expertise.8 Gary Schwartz
describes Rembrandt’s admiration for the work of the Dutch Catholic art-
ist Lucas van Leyden (1494–1533) as “a case of incurable hero worship,”
noting that “motifs from Lucas’s prints abound in Rembrandt, from early
to late.”9 Craig Harbison asserts that Lucas’s 1519 engraving of the Noli me
tangere (fig. 9.4) was intended as a visual refutation of the 1517 treatise
of French humanist Jacques Lefèvre d’Étaples,10 which asserted that the
Magdalene, Mary of Bethany, and Christ’s anointrix were three different
people. As discussed by both Barbara Baert and Barbara Johnston in this
volume, Catholic teaching since the sixth century conflated these three
women dating back to Gregory the Great. In this print, Lucas van Leyden
deviated from traditional iconography by depicting Christ actually touch-
ing the Magdalene. This detail reflected Catholic beliefs through refer-
ence to Mary Magdalene’s relics “discovered” in medieval France, with a
piece of skin adhering to the forehead of the saint’s skull.11 Catholic legend
held that although Christ had warned Mary Magdalene not to touch him,
he had touched her forehead with the tip of his finger, blessing her and
sending her with the good news of the Resurrection. Lucas van Leyden’s
engraving focuses the viewer’s attention on the touch of Christ’s hand to
Mary Magdalene’s forehead. Harbison argues that the close-up focus on
8 Gary Schwartz, The Rembrandt Book (New York: Abrams, 2006), 27.
9 Schwartz, The Rembrandt Book, 25.
10 Craig Harbison, “Lucas van Leyden, the Magdalen and the Problem of Secularization
in early Sixteenth Century Northern Art,” Oud Holland 98, no. 3 (1984): 117–29.
11 For more discussion on this topic of Mary Magdalene and Christ’s touch see Barbara
Baert’s article in this volume, “The Gaze in the Garden: Mary Magdalene in the Noli me
tangere.”
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Fig. 9.4. Lucas van Leyden, Christ as a Gardener Appearing to Mary Magdalene, 1519,
engraving. British Museum, London. Photo: The Trustees of the British Museum.
Christ’s touch in the print was aimed to refute the teachings of Protestants
who denied the cult of the saints and the efficacy of relics.12
Rembrandt’s painting shares with Lucas’s engraving the details of the
tree, city, ointment jar, and gardener’s hat, but is otherwise a very distinct
rendering of the scene. While it was primarily through the medium of
print that the iconography of the Noli me tangere developed and circu-
lated in the seventeenth century, Rembrandt’s painting is self-evidently
not a print. The distinctly Catholic reading by Craig Harbison of Lucas van
Leyden’s image provides the opportunity to examine the idea that the Noli
me tangere could likewise convey a distinctly Protestant agenda.
12 Harbison, “Lucas van Leyden,” 121.

Reformed Holland: Changes in Theology and Art
Understanding Rembrandt’s Noli me tangere necessitates an appreciation

of how the Bible was being read and interpreted in seventeenth-century
Amsterdam. Rembrandt’s native Holland, which embraced Calvinism, was
embroiled in reform and revolt against Catholic Spain. The adoption of
Protestantism and the independence won from Spain dramatically shifted
the focus of Christian spirituality from the Catholic emphasis on sacra-
ments and saints to the word of the Gospels, in which Christ was revealed.
Salvation came through hearing and believing every line of scripture from
both the Old and New Testaments, particularly as it pertained to this cen-
tral message of Christianity. In the words of Paul L. Lehmann, “the Reform-
ers were convinced that, regardless of the variety of Biblical authorship
and circumstance . . . the message and the content of the Bible were single.
One could not truly read the Bible except in terms of Jesus Christ.”13 Thus,
the figures and stories of the Old Testament, or Hebrew Scriptures, were
read typologically as prefiguring figures and events in the Gospels.
Calvin described typological exegesis of Old Testament narratives in
light of the message of Christ as akin to the relationship between an art-
ist’s sketch and the finished painting.14 This type of interpretation involves
noting similarities between figures and narratives in the Old and New Tes-
taments, such as the high priest Melchizedek and Christ, as revelatory
of God’s continuing salvific action in history. For the Calvinist Christian,
the interpretive work of typology functions as an expression of faith in
a triune God who has ordered the universe for the purpose of human
salvation from the beginning of time, and whose hand can be seen in the
repeated patterns of covenant and grace in the biblical account.15
In Book II of the Institutes of the Christian Religion, Calvin draws a num-
ber of parallels between the Old and New Testaments in order to dem-
onstrate that the new dispensation or covenant with God under Christ is
contiguous with the covenant under Moses. For example, the manna pro-
vided to the Israelites in the wilderness (Exodus 16) is akin to the bread
13 Paul L. Lehmann, “The Reformers’ Use of the Bible,” Theology Today 3:3 (October
1946), 338.
14 Calvin, A Commentarie on the Whole Epistle to the Hebrewes, trans. C. Cotton (London:
Felix Kyngston, for Arthur Johnson, 1605), 200–10.
15 Walter R. Roehrs, “The Typological Use of the Old Testament in the New Testament,”
Concordia Journal 10/6 (November 1984): 207.
258 bobbi dykema
of the Lord’s Supper.16 The promise made to Abraham that he would be

the father of many nations (Genesis 17:4)17 parallels Christ’s promise to his
followers of eternal life, and so on.18
According to this framework, the Old Testament is read Christologically
and explored for its contributions to a deeper understanding of Christ
and the way to salvation. Three such typological characterizations are
particularly relevant to and involve the figure of Mary Magdalene: Christ
as the new Adam, Christ as the Bridegroom of the Church, and Christ
as the emblem of the renewed covenant of Abraham. Through Christ’s
various typological parallels, Mary Magdalene also became associated
with specific Old Testament passages and would be read typologically as
Eve, as the unnamed woman narrator of the Song of Songs, or as one of
the women of the Abraham story, Sarah or Hagar. Each of these readings
contributes to an understanding of Rembrandt’s characterization of Mary
Magdalene in his Risen Christ Appearing to Mary Magdalene.
The Song of Songs
The Gospel account of Christ’s death and Resurrection in the New Testa-
ment was seen by Protestant Reformers as the fulfillment and redemp-
tion of the Old Testament story of the Fall of Adam and Eve. Reading
the parts of the Bible both sequentially and literally in this way posed a
problem, however, when it came to the collection of erotic Hebrew poetry
known as the Song of Solomon or Song of Songs.19 While Martin Luther
devised a political interpretation for the Song of Songs, Calvinist reform-
ers tended to read it as an allegory of Christ as the Bridegroom wooing his
Bride, the Church. In his book, Spiritual Desertion, professor of theology at
Leiden and Utrecht, Johannes Hoornbeeck (1617–66) described the search
for the beloved in the Song of Songs as a story of the church’s straying
from Christ.20 A poem by the Deventer pastor and later Leiden professor
16 Calvin, Institutes of the Christian Religion Bk II Ch X.6, 372.

17 Herbert G. May and Bruce M. Metzger, eds., The New Oxford Annotated Bible with the
Apocrypha (Expanded Edition), Revised Standard Version (New York: Oxford University
Press, 1977), 19. All biblical references are to this edition.
18 Calvin, Institutes of the Christian Religion Bk II Ch X.11, 376.
19 Marilyn Aronberg Lavin and Irving Lavin, The Liturgy of Love: Images from the Song
of Songs in the Art of Cimabue, Michelangelo, and Rembrandt (Lawrence: Spencer Museum
of Art, 2001), 103.
20 Johannes Hoornbeeck, Spiritual Desertion, trans. John Vriend and Harry Boonstra
(Grand Rapids: Baker Academic, 2003), 153.
Jacobus Revius (1586–1658) refers to Christ as the bridegroom and describes

the soul’s longing for him in terms that strongly echo the Song of Songs,
“O sweet clusters of grapes out of the promised land, fills my heart and
mouth with love and praise.”21 And the French Reformed minister Jean
Taffin (1529–1602), who became influential in the Dutch Further Refor-
mation, described the Church as awaiting and seeking after the glorious
return of her bridegroom, Christ.22
In a longstanding tradition of the Catholic Church, Mary Magdalene
was connected typologically with the female lover, or sponsa, of the Song
of Songs, apparent in the lectionary reading for the saint’s feast day,
July 22 (Song of Songs 3:1–4). Just as Mary Magdalene seeks Christ, the
sponsa of the Song of Songs seeks her Beloved, who has gone missing (Song
of Songs 3:1);23 meets him in a garden (Song of Songs 5:1); and anoints him
with fragrance (Song of Songs 1:3). The paradisiacal garden of the Song of
Songs in which sponsa and Beloved meet is restored in the newness of
the Resurrection moment where Christ encounters Mary Magdalene, an
ancient linkage articulated as far back as Origen (185–254).24 Other theo-
logians who expanded upon this connection include Hippolytus of Rome,
Hilary of Poitiers, Optatus of Milevus, Ambrose of Milan, Odo of Cluny,
and Anselm of Canterbury.25 The connection is celebrated liturgically by
the Roman Catholic Church to this day.
Pictorially, Rembrandt’s Christ appears to Mary Magdalene dressed in
white, as the first rays of a glorious sunrise touch her face. He is, as Taffin
describes the Bridegroom returning to the Church, “shewing himselfe
immediatelie with his diuine maiestie in his brightnes.”26 The Magdalene’s
ointment jar sits gleaming on the ground before her, reminding the viewer
that her mission, like that of the sponsa of the Song of Songs, was to anoint
21 Jacobus Revius, “Avondmael,” Over-Ysselsche Sangen en Dichten (Amsterdam: Uitge-

versmaatschappij Holland, 1630, reprint 1930), 217. Quoted and translated in Tony Maan,
“The Eucharistic Presence of Christ in Seventeenth-Century Dutch Protestant Popular
Piety: Toward a Catholic-Protestant Rapprochement?” Journal of Ecumenical Studies 43,
no. 4 (Fall 2008): 476–94.
22 Jean Taffin, Of the Marks of the Children of God, and of their Comforts in Afflictions, to
the Faithful of the Low Country, trans. Anne Prowse (London: Thomas Orwin, 1590), 7.
23 This connection is drawn out by Jack R. Lundbom, “Mary Magdalene and Song of
Songs 3:1–4,” Interpretation 49 (April 1995), 174.
24 Malvern, Marjorie M. Venus in Sackcloth: The Magdalen’s Origins and Metamorpho-
ses. (Carbondale: Southern Illinois University Press, 1975), 67.
25 Susan Haskins, Mary Magdalen, Myth and Metaphor (New York: Harcourt Brace,
1993), 63ff.
26 Taffin, Of the Marks of the Children of God, 7.
260 bobbi dykema
the body of her beloved with fragrant spices. The arrangement of her body
displays a definitive turning from the darkness of the tomb to the glorious
light of Christ’s loving face.
Eve
Along with the more traditional connections between Mary Magdalene

and the Song of Songs, two other female figures from the Old Testament
influenced Rembrandt’s portrayal of Mary Magdalene in The Risen Christ
Appearing to Mary Magdalene. Typological parallels between Eve and the
Virgin Mary in Catholic exegesis are well established. In Protestant litera-
ture, however, parallels were drawn between Eve and the Magdalene. Sev-
eral features of Rembrandt’s painting suggest that he was aware of these
sources. Kaspar Olevianus (1536–87), an influential German reformer and
co-author of the Heidelberg Catechism, described Christ in typological
terms as a second Adam. In this formulation, Christ’s meritorious work on
the cross satisfies the righteous demands of God the Father engendered
by the Fall of the original Adam, and sets humankind free from the curse
of the law.27 The connection made by Olevianus between Christ and
Adam may have also inspired a connection between the garden where
Mary Magdalene encounters the risen Christ and the first garden, the
Garden of Eden. Here, Adam and Eve encountered one another in para-
disiacal innocence, and were warned not to eat of the tree in the center
of the garden, nor even to touch it (Genesis 3:3). But Eve, beguiled by
the serpent, went seeking after knowledge and disobeyed the command
not to touch, bringing human sinfulness into the world and separating
humankind from God.
While the writers do not report whether Mary Magdalene obeyed
Christ’s instruction, the biblical record of each of the canonical Gospels
affirm that she was entrusted with the sacred message of the Resurrec-
tion, and here her connection with Eve becomes even more apparent. Her
foremother Eve brought human separation from God into the world; Mary
Magdalene brings the first news of reconciliation. Many motifs of the story
of Eden are echoed in Mary Magdalene’s relationship with Christ. Christ
27 Kaspar Olevianus, An Exposition of the Symbole of the Apostles, trans. John Fielde
(London: H. Middleton, for Thomas Man and Tobie Smith, 1581), 122. Referenced in Mark
W. Karlberg, “Reformed Interpretation of the Mosaic Covenant,” Westminster Theological
Journal 43, no. 1 (Fall 1980): 19.
was interpreted by early modern reformed theologians as the new Adam,

whose cross corresponds to Eden’s tree of life, and whose sacrifice undoes
Adam’s sin.28 Often, it is Christ’s mother, the Blessed Virgin Mary, who
is understood to be the new Eve; after all, just as Eve brought sin into
the world, the Virgin Mary brought salvation. But salvation does not just
occur; it must be proclaimed, and accepted, and in her encounter with
Christ in the garden, and her role as first proclaimer, Mary Magdalene can
also be understood as a new Eve.29
A visual connection exists between Rembrandt’s Mary Magdalene and
one of his own Eve figures. Rembrandt created his well-known etching of
Adam and Eve (fig. 9.5) in the same year as The Risen Christ Appearing to
Mary Magdalene: 1638.30 The most striking commonality between these
works is the large tree that dominates a third of the pictorial space. In
Adam and Eve it is the right third on a vertical plane, while in The Risen
Christ it is the top third on a horizontal, with the tree’s trunk demarcating
a strong vertical down the center of the painting. The trees, of course, are
related; Adam and Eve’s tree is the Tree of the Knowledge of Good and
Evil (Genesis 2:17), and the resurrected Christ’s tree is the other Edenic
tree, the Tree of Life.
The strength of focus on the tree in the Rembrandt panel becomes even
more significant in light of the absence of a direct textual source for it,
especially when coupled with its resemblance to the Edenic tree. Theo-
logically, it makes sense that the scene of Resurrection and redemption be
situated, as Rembrandt has done, at the foot of the tree that led to human-
ity’s downfall: humankind’s original innocence and closeness to God has
been re-established in Christ’s victory over sin and death.
Hagar
Mary Magdalene’s testimony of encountering the risen Christ echoes that

of another Old Testament heroine, the maidservant Hagar, who was given
28 Nicolas Wyatt, “Supposing Him to Be the Gardener (John 20:15),” Zeitschrift für die
neutestamentliche Wissenschaft und die Kunde der älteren Kirche 81 (1990): 26, 38.
29 Jean-Luc Nancy made this assertion in his discussion of Caravaggio’s Death of the
Virgin. Nancy, The Muses (Stanford: Stanford University Press, 1996), 65.
30 Amy Golahny argues that Rembrandt’s 1638 Adam and Eve, particularly the serpent,
was influenced by Dürer’s Descent into Limbo from the 1512 engraved Passion. Rembrandt
also adopted Dürer’s body types from his 1504 Adam and Eve. Golahny, Rembrandt’s Read-
ing, 93–95.
262 bobbi dykema
Fig. 9.5. Rembrandt Harmenszoon van Rijn, Adam and Eve, 1638, etching. Photo:
Teylers Museum, Haarlem, The Netherlands.
by Sarah to Abraham in the couple’s old age to ensure the fulfillment of

God’s promise of an heir (Genesis 16:1–15). After their son, Ishmael, is con-
ceived, Hagar, according to the story, lords her fertility over her mistress’s
barrenness. So Sarah “deals harshly” with Hagar, and Hagar flees, taking
her little son with her. But Hagar is accosted in the wilderness by an angel,
who bids her return to Abraham and Sarah’s home, promising her that her
child will be the beginning of a great and prosperous lineage. Hagar’s won-
dering response is recorded, “Have I really seen God?” Similar to Hagar’s
story, Mary Magdalene encounters first angels who inquire about her pur-
pose at the tomb, and then the risen Christ, who directs her to return from
whence she came, where she reports, “I have seen the Lord.”(John 20:18)31
Rembrandt created numerous depictions of scenes from the life of
Hagar, frequently focusing on the episode when Abraham cast her and
Ishmael out of his house. One of Rembrandt’s representations, a drawing
of The Angel Showing Hagar the Well in the Desert (fig. 9.6), was created
the same year as his Magdalene painting. In his drawing, Hagar occupies
roughly the same place as Mary Magdalene in The Risen Christ. Other
visual connections between these two works by Rembrandt include the
crouching position and the manner in which the female protagonists look
over their shoulders. In the drawing of Hagar, she looks back at the heav-
enly savior of herself and her child: the angel who reveals the location of
a well in the desert to quench their wandering thirst.
The correlation between the stories of Hagar and Mary Magdalene
is arresting. Both women have gone seeking after death. Hagar has just
placed her child out of sight so that she will not have to watch him suf-
fer and die (Genesis 21:8–21). Mary Magdalene seeks to anoint the body
of her beloved teacher with fragrant spices (Mark 16:1–2).32 Both women
are startled in their despair by the vision of an otherworldly figure, who
calls each woman by name and charges her with a task that will effect a
great outcome: Hagar’s son will become a great nation, and the news of
Christ’s Resurrection will change the world. Visually, Rembrandt’s Hagar
and Mary Magdalene share the same pose and the same relationship to
the divine figure above them. Likewise, Christ and the angel in the desert
31 The connection between Mary Magdalene and Hagar has also been made by Adele
Reinhartz, “To Love the Lord: An Intertextual Reading of John 20,” in Labour of Reading:
desire, alienation, and biblical interpretation, ed. Fiona C. Black, Roland Boer and Eric
Runions (Atlanta: Society of Biblical Literature, 1999), 53–69.
32 The detail of the mission of completing the task of anointing Christ’s body is omit-
ted in John.
264 bobbi dykema
Fig. 9.6. Rembrandt Harmensz. van Rijn. Hagar in the Desert, reed pen with
brown ink, heightened with white, 18.2 × 25.2 cm. Photo: bpk, Berlin (Hamburger
Kunsthalle, Hamburg, Germany, photo by Christoph Irrgang courtesy of Art
Resource, NY).
stand in similar relationship to the female figures to whom they bring

redemptive news.
Indeed, as Christine Sellin has noted, the figure of Hagar has often been
seen as a “troublemaker, sinner, [and] rebel.”33 The same is no less true
of Mary Magdalene. Yet, the Magdalene’s characterization as a prostitute
turned apostolorum apostola offered Christians the hope that full redemp-
tion and even elevation to sainthood was possible for anyone. According
to Sellin, sixteenth-century Reformation literature presented the story of
Hagar “as a lesson in obedience, humility, and faith,” as well as grace, par-
ticularly the scene of her encounter with the angel.34 Surely no greater
grace could be described than that which allowed Mary Magdalene the
favor of being the first to witness the resurrected Christ. Finally, giving
Rembrandt inspiration for casting Mary Magdalene as a Hagar figure is
33 Christine Petra Sellin, Fractured Families and Rebel Maidservants: The Biblical Hagar
in Seventeenth-Century Dutch Art and Literature (New York: Continuum, 2006), 1.
34 Sellin, Fractured Families and Rebel Maidservants, 97.
the “curiously sympathetic” manner in which seventeenth-century Dutch

artists represented Hagar in paintings of the expulsion scene.35
Along with the pose of the female figures, Rembrandt’s representations
of Hagar and Mary Magdalene share a similar landscape setting. Each of
the two women has encountered her heavenly comforter and rescuer in
a place of danger and grief—the wilderness. But the savior has come to
show each grieving woman the path of salvation: for Hagar, the unseen
spring of water; and for Mary Magdalene, the new day of Resurrection
dawning over the world of humankind.
Landscape is important in The Risen Christ Appearing to Mary Magdalene;
more than two-thirds of the panel of is concerned with it. The human fig-
ures are framed by the overarching foliage of the large central tree behind
them, and the dark shrubbery to the right and left in the foreground. The
viewer’s eye is drawn toward the figure of Christ, placed nearly in the
exact center of the painting, then to the face of Mary Magdalene, and
ultimately to the luminous dawn over the distant city behind them.
Cynthia A. Schneider has discussed how Rembrandt has made use of
landscape to convey part of the narrative and spiritual impact of his paint-
ings. She describes how “trees and shrubbery [act] as [a] foil for illumi-
nated figures” in mythological paintings such as The Rape of Europa and
The Rape of Proserpina.36 The large central tree in The Risen Christ Appear-
ing to Mary Magdalene does more than act as a foil. It recalls the Tree of
the Knowledge of Good and Evil in Rembrandt’s etching of Adam and Eve
from the same time period. It also sets the garden landscape as a scene
for the despairing grief of its female heroine, just as the wilderness land-
scape does in The Angel Showing Hagar the Well in the Desert. Indeed, the
landscape in The Risen Christ is more wilderness than garden, definitively
placed well outside the bounds of the city.
These visual correspondences indicate that Rembrandt drew clear
parallels between the figures of Mary Magdalene and Hagar. However,
the biblical speeches of the two women give even stronger credence to the
connection. The emphasis, in both, is on seeing, rather than touch. The
primacy of sight over touch following Christ’s Resurrection is underscored
by Mary Magdalene’s positioning in the Rembrandt panel. She cannot
touch the Lord; she is kneeling with her back to him. All she can do is
report what she has seen.
35 Sellin, Fractured Families and Rebel Maidservants, 115.

36 Schneider, Rembrandt’s Landscapes, 18.
266 bobbi dykema
Not only does the Magdalene’s testimony echo Hagar’s in a pow-

erful way, it helps to solve the problem of Noli me tangere itself. Mary
Magdalene, like Hagar, returned from her supernatural encounter with a
witness of sight. It is she who ushers in the new era in salvation history:
Christ will not be among his followers any longer in human form; they
are now enjoined to go forth and witness to what they have seen. Mary
Magdalene is the first such witness, and she is a peculiarly Calvinist hero-
ine; in his commentary on the Gospel of John, the Geneva Reformer con-
nected the moment in which Mary Magdalene’s name is called by Christ
with the state of “chosenness” of all the elect.37
Conclusion
Wilderness, death, despair, savior, and sight: as a Calvinist visual typol-

ogy, Rembrandt’s 1638 Mary Magdalene as Hagar figure serves to focus on
the former’s role as proclaimer of the Gospel, a correspondence with par-
ticularly Protestant resonance, emphasizing word over deed and touch.
Rembrandt’s contemporary, the poet Jeremias de Decker, called the panel
“dead paint so brought to life . . . rich with shadows, spirit, and majesty.”38
The fresh interpretation which Rembrandt brought to the Resurrection
account lies in the artist’s deliberate imbuing of his New Testament scene
with features from Old Testament figures and episodes. Mary Magdalene
is the new Eve, kneeling at the foot of the Tree of Life as Christ’s Resur-
rection undoes the evil of the Fall. She is as well the sponsa of the Song
of Songs, seeking her beloved Bridegroom in a fragrant garden outside
the city. Most compellingly, Rembrandt’s characterizes Mary Magdalene
as a Hagar figure at the moment of divine revelation. His uniquely Prot-
estant emphasis on the Old Testament incorporates into the narrative of
the Resurrection elements of Hagar’s salvation in the wilderness as well as
the story of the Fall and the search of the sponsa for the lost Bridegroom.
Sharing with works of contemporary Protestant literature an enthusiasm
for newly-nuanced interpretations of the sacred text, The Risen Christ may
be understood as Rembrandt’s Calvinist reading of the Noli me tangere.
37 John Calvin, Commentary on the Gospel According to John, vol. 2, trans. William Pringle
(Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1949), 251.
38 Simon Schama, Rembrandt’s Eyes, 644.
Part four
Patronage and Privilege:

the Magdalene as Guardian and Advocate
chapter ten
The Magdalene and ‘Madame’: Piety, Politics, and Personal

Agenda in Louise of Savoy’s Vie de la Magdalene
Barbara J. Johnston
In 1516 Louise of Savoy (1476–1531), the Duchess of Angoulême and mother

of the French king Francis I, commissioned a manuscript illustrating the
life of Saint Mary Magdalene, to whom Louise was particularly devoted.1
This manuscript, the Vie de la Magdalene, was inspired by a pilgrimage
made by Louise to La Sainte-Baume, the cliff shrine of Mary Magdalene
near Aix-en-Provence.2
I am grateful to so many who have helped and supported me in my research on the Vie de
la Magdalene and in the production of this essay. I thank my family, my friends and col-
leagues Michelle Erhardt, Amy Morris, Claire McCoy, Michele McCrillis, Joe Sanders, Dean
Gary Wortley, Fredrika Jacobs, Charles Palermo, and especially Michael Schreffler and Robert
Neuman, friends and mentors, who continue to guide me as I wind my way through aca-
demic life. I am especially grateful to Cynthia Hahn, who first introduced me to the Vie, to
Dr. Patricia Rose for her guidance and kindness throughout, to François Avril at the Biblio-
thèque National in Paris who made it possible for me to work directly from the manuscript,
and finally, my unending thanks to the late Myra Orth, whose initial research on the Vie as
well as her encouragement, enthusiasm, and generosity continues to inspire my search to
understand every facet of this remarkable little book.
1 Susan Haskins, Mary Magdalen: Myth and Metaphor (New York: Riverhead Books,
1993), 245; François Rigolot, “Magdalene’s Skull: Allegory and Iconography in Heptameron
32,” Renaissance Quarterly 47 (Spring 1994): 57–73. Both Haskins and Rigolot mention that
Louise was particularly devoted to Mary Magdalene.
2 Bibliothèque nationale de France, Paris, Ms. fr. 24.955, referred to hereafter as BnF.,
Ms. fr. 24955. The manuscript is also known as Vie de sainte Magdalene and La vie de la
belle et clere Magdalene. See Rigolot, Magdalene’s Skull, 73. For the most comprehensive
analysis of the Vie de la Magdalene, see Barbara J. Johnston, “Sacred Kingship and Royal
Patronage in the Vie de la Magdalene: Pilgrimage, Politics, Passion Plays, and the Life of
Louise of Savoy” (PhD diss., Florida State University, 2007.) See also Myra Dickman Orth,
“Progressive Tendencies in French Manuscript Illumination: 1515–1530: Godefroy le Batave
and the 1520’s Hours Workshop” (PhD diss., New York University, 1975.) Le Vie de la
Magdalene measures 9.5 × 7.5 cm (3 ¾ × 2 15/16 inches) closed, which is slightly smaller
than a standard deck of cards. Each page displays a small framed roundel, approximately
4.4 cm (1¾ inches) in diameter, which contains either text or miniatures done in grisaille
with touches of color. The frames surrounding the illuminations are gold and inscribed
with mottoes in seven languages—French, Italian, Spanish, German, Latin, and both clas-
sical and “common” Greek. Surrounding the narrative text are colored frames that con-
tain decorative and symbolic elements. Most of these decorative motifs are painted in
gold, although white is used on folio 6v. With the exception of a few inscriptions placed
270 barbara j. johnston
According to tradition and legend, La Sainte-Baume is the location of

the grotto where Mary Magdalene, “Apostle to the Apostles” and a patron
saint of France, lived in contemplative solitude following her apostolate.
The shrine had been a favorite pilgrimage site for hundreds of years, espe-
cially among the French aristocracy. Accompanying Louise was her son,
the newly crowned Francis I of France (b.1494, r. 1515–47), her daughter
Marguerite of Angoulême, then the Duchess of Alençon (1492–1549), Fran-
cis’s wife Claude, queen of France (1499–1524), and their royal entourage.3
The journey to La Sainte-Baume had special significance for Louise, for
it was undertaken to fulfill a vow she made to Mary Magdalene the year
before when she entreated the saint to ensure Francis’s safety and vic-
tory at the Battle of Marignano.4 Francis came away from the conflict
outside the roundels, there are no other elements on the pages. There are 109 folios in
the manuscript, giving the book 218 pages of roundels. Sixty-nine of the roundels, folios
5r to 72r, contain illuminations that depict the life of the saint, her shrine, and relics. The
remaining roundels, 1r to 4v and 72v to 108r, contain text alone with the exception of folio
3v, in which a horizontal miniature of Saint George and the dragon, silhouetted in gold on
black, is imbedded within the narrative. Godefroy le Batave collaborated with Demoulins
on several works created for Louise and her family, most notably Interprètation Psaume
26, also known as Dominus illuminatio mea, and Commentaire de la guerre gallique. For
Godefroy le Batave, see Orth, “Progressive Tendencies,” 166–84; and Myra Dickman Orth,
“Godefroy le Batave, Illuminator to the French Royal Family, 1516–26,” in Manuscripts in
the Fifty Years after the Invention of Printing, ed. J.B. Trapp (London: Warburg Institute,
1983), 50–61. For a discussion of the Saint George theme in the Vie, see Johnston, “Sacred
Kingship,” 161–63, 257–59.
3 La Sainte-Baume is located near Aix-en-Provence. The pilgrimage was part of the
journey undertaken by the women to meet up with Francis on his return trip from Italy.
They left Amboise on 20 October 1515, stopping for various celebrations and royal entries
in cities and towns along the way. They spent Christmas in the Provençal town of Tarascon
and arrived at La Sainte-Baume on 31 December 1515 where they made their first visit to
the shrine of Mary Magdalene. A second visit was made by the royal party, which now
included Francis, on the return trip to allow the king to partake in the devotional expe-
rience. For a detailed account of the trip, see E. Baux, V.-L. Bourrilly, and Ph. Mabilly,
“Le voyage des reines et de François 1er en Provence et dans la vallée de Rhône Decembre
1515–Février 1516,” Annales du Midi 16 (1904): 21–42. See also Orth, “Progressive Tendencies,”
298; R.J. Knecht, Renaissance Warrior and Patron: The Reign of Francis I (Cambridge:
Cambridge University Press, 1994), 83. By the end of the fifteenth century a pilgrimage
to La Sainte-Baume had become a common practice for the kings and queens of France.
See Haskins, Myth and Metaphor, 286–89; Katherine Ludwig Jansen, The Making of the
Magdalen: Preaching and Popular Devotion in the Later Middle Ages (Princeton: Princeton
University Press, 2000), 307–32; and Rigolot, Magdalene’s Skull, 57–73.
4 Knecht, Renaissance Warrior, 57, 68. This battle was the first triumph in Francis’s Ital-
ian campaigns, the major goal of which was to gain possession of the city of Milan, then
controlled by Massimiliano Sforza. Louis XII had established Milan as a French capital in
1500, but lost it to the Sforza family in 1512. However, beyond his desire to regain the city
for France, Francis had a personal reason for risking himself and his men to capture Milan,
for Francis was of Milanese ancestry. His claim stemmed from the marriage of Valentina
the magdalene and ‘madame’ 271
unscathed and victorious, and in October of 1515 Louise set out to fulfill
her vow as she journeyed to meet Francis on his triumphant return to
France.5 What came out of this journey is one of the most elaborate and
complex Magdalenian vita ever produced.
The visit to La Sainte-Baume had a profound effect on Louise and
after returning home, she commissioned François Demoulins de Roche-
fort (active 1501–26) to create an illustrated life of Mary Magdalene as a
personal book of devotion and a commemoration of her visit to the holy
site.6 Demoulins, a Franciscan priest and humanist scholar, was chosen
by Louise in 1501 to tutor her children and he remained with the family
for the next twenty-five years as a teacher, confidant, and consultant on
intellectual and spiritual matters. He also authored several manuscripts
for the family on both secular and spiritual topics.7 Collaborating with
the Flemish illuminator Godefroy le Batave (active 1516–26), Demoulins
produced the Vie de la Magdalene, an illuminated manuscript recounting
the life of Mary Magdalene in miniatures and narrative text (fig. 10.1).8
Visconti to the French king Louis I in 1389, a match from which both Francis and his wife
Claude of France were descended. See Knecht, Renaissance Warrior, 62–63.
5 In her journal entry, Louise expresses her great relief, “God knows how happy I was,
poor mother, to see my son safe and sound after he had suffered so much violence for the
sake of the commonwealth.” See Myra Dickman Orth, “Francis Du Moulin and the Journal
of Louise of Savoy,” Sixteenth Century Journal, 13/1 (1982): 55–66.
Pauline Matarasso, Queen’s Mate: Three Women of Power in France on the Eve of the
Renaissance (Aldershot and Burlington: 2001), 292–93; Henri Hauser, “ ‘Le Journal’ de
Louise de Savoie,” Revue historique 86 (1904): 280–303, and Marie Holban, “Le Journal de
Louise de Savoie and François De Moulins,” Revue Roumaine d’Histoire, 28 (1989): 451–64.
6 Demoulins’s name is also spelled Du Moulin, Du Moulins, Demoulin, and Desmoulin.
The author refers to himself as Rochefort in the manuscript.
7 These include Chappelet de vertus, early sixteenth century (Paris, BnF., Ms. fr. 1892);
Dialogue sur la folie du jeu, 1505 (Paris, BnF., Ms. fr. 1863); Traitè sur les vertus cardinales,
1509 (Paris, BnF., Ms. fr. 12.247); Ad maximum principem Franciscum Valesiorum Ducem
Francisci Molini Pictonis Odes Monocolos, 1512 (Paris, BnF., Ms. lat. 8396); Libellus enignma-
tum, after 1512 (Paris, BnF., Ms. lat. 8775); Interprètation Psaume 26, 1516 (Paris, BnF., Ms.
fr. 2088) also known as Dominus illuminatio mea; Petit livret à l’honneur de Sainte Anne,
after 1518 (Paris, BnF., A., Ms. fr. 4009); Traitè de Pénitence, before 1518 (Paris, BnF., Ms.
fr. 1890); and Commentaire de la guerre gallique, 1519–20 (vol. 1, London, British Library,
Harley, Ms. 6205; vol. 2, Paris, BnF., Ms. fr. 13429; vol. 3, Chantilly, Musee Condé, Ms. fr.
1139.) See Orth, “Progressive Tendencies,” 68–83, for a discussion of Louise’s library at Blois
and the authors and artists she patronized, and throughout for discussion of Demoulins’s
manuscripts for Louise, Francis, and Marguerite. See also Anne-Marie Le Coq, François
Ier imaginaire: symbolique et politique a l’aube de la Renaissance française (Paris: Macula,
1987), 409–13; and Mary Beth Winn, “Books for a Princess and Her Son: Louise de Savoie,
François d’Angoulême, and the Parisian Libraire Antoine Vérard,” in Bibliothèque d’Huma-
nisme et Renaissance 46 (1984): 603–17.
8 Godefroy le Batave collaborated with Demoulins on several works created for Louise
and her family, most notably Interprètation Psaume 26, also known as Dominus illuminatio
Fig. 10.1. Godefroy le Batave, The Body of Lazarus Prepared for Burial, folios 21v
and 22r from the Vie de la Magdalene by François Demoulins de Rochefort and
Godefroy le Batave, c. 1516, illuminated manuscript on parchment. Bibliothèque
nationale de France, Paris. BnF., Ms. fr. 24.955. Photo: Paris, Bibliothèque Nation-
ale de France.
He presented Louise, whom he addresses as “Madame,” with the manu-

script in 1517.9
As this essay will demonstrate, the Vie de la Magdalene is unique
among Magdalene vitae in that it presents the life of the saint in a highly
individualized manner that is reflective of the experiences and concerns
mea, and Commentaire de la guerre gallique. See Orth, “Progressive Tendencies,” 166–84,
and “Godefroy le Batave,” 50–61. Godefroy’s cognomen “le Batave” refers to Batavia, the
ancient Roman name for the Northern Netherlands. Although little is known about this
artist, an analysis of his style suggests that he was an Antwerp Mannerist and Myra Orth
identified Godefroy le Batave was a member of the 1520s Hours Workshop. For informa-
tion about the Antwerp Mannerists and their influence on French manuscript production,
see Orth, “Progressive Tendencies,” 174–84, and Orth, “Godefroy le Batave,” 50–52. See also
Myra Dickman Orth, “French Renaissance Manuscripts: The 1520s Hours Workshop and
the Master of the Getty Epistles,” Journal of the J. Paul Getty Museum 16 (1988): 33–60;
Walters Art Gallery, “Antwerp Mannerist Model Drawings in French Renaissance Books
of Hours: A Case Study of the 1520s Hours Workshop,” Journal of the Walters Art Gallery
47 (1989): 78.
9 Myra Orth suggests that the manuscript was given to Louise in April 1517, although
others have theorized that it was presented to her that November. See Orth, “Progressive
Tendencies,” 301–2.
of the book’s owner, Louise of Savoy. While images of saints, especially

Mary Magdalene, were personalized in a variety of ways, the Vie de la
Magdalene offers one of the most extreme examples of this practice. The
inclusion of rare and invented scenes permitted Louise to identify with
the saint in a deeply personal manner.
Although much of the manuscript aligns with major aspects of the
Magdalene legend as it was understood in France in the early sixteenth
century, the Vie has a number of unusual visual, thematic, and textual
elements that do not have their source in traditional representations
of the saint’s story. Studying the manuscript from the point of view of
its intended audience, it is clear that author and artist manipulated the
narrative text, illuminations, and decorative elements of the Vie de la
Magdalene to reflect the specific personal and political concerns of their
patron, Louise of Savoy.
Parallel Lives
A careful examination of the illuminations in the Vie de la Magdalene

reveals that Demoulins chose to include certain episodes from the
Magdalene’s previous vitae because they reflected similar events in the
life of Louise of Savoy. Although mindful to present the Magdalene’s story
in accordance with Roman Catholic doctrine, Demoulins included these
episodes because they established biographical and emotional parallels
between the two women.10 One of the most obvious methods Demoulins
10 For a discussion of the many vitae influencing the iconography of Mary Magdalene,
see Haskins, Myth and Metaphor, 117, 208–27; K. Jansen, Making of the Magdalen, 37–39;
Louis Réau, Iconographie de l’art Chrétien, vol. 3 (Paris: Presses Universitaires de France,
1955–59), 847, 855, 884–86. The vita eremitica was probably a conflation with the story of
another female hermit saint, Mary of Egypt, an Egyptian prostitute who traded her services
for passage to the Holy Land where she repented her sins and was converted to Christianity
after a period of penitential isolation in the desert. She is invariably depicted either naked
or with tattered remnants of clothing and covered with long thick hair. See Jacobus de
Voragine, The Golden Legend, trans. Granger Ryan and Helmut Ripperger (New York: Arno
Press, 1969) 106–10. In reference to Demoulins’s concern about presenting the Magdalene’s
life in accordance with Catholic doctrine, he makes several references in the Vie, including
the following from folio 4r, that, “Everything that follows is in the tradition of the Church
until the end of the stories.” The manner in which the Magdalene’s vita was represented was
an important issue at the time. The sixth-century Gregorian conflation of Mary Magdalene
had been the subject of controversy among theologians for centuries, with several schol-
ars, including Demoulins’s mentor and friend Jacques Lefèvre d’Etaples, challenging the
accuracy of this edict. Lefèvre’s treatise, De Mariae Magdalenae, was written in response
to Demoulins’s request for assistance in writing the Vie de la Magdalene, specifically in
used to create these parallels was to emphasize the aristocratic rank of both
Louise and Mary Magdalene. Earlier vitae, including the Legenda Aurea,
instituted the iconographic tradition that Mary Magdalene was descended
from kings.11 Although Demoulins does not specifically refer to the saint as
a daughter of nobility, unmistakable allusions to the Magdalene’s highborn
station are found throughout the images and text of the manuscript, and
certainly would have resonated with Louise of Savoy. By emphasizing the
Magdalene’s aristocratic lineage, Demoulins made a conscious iconograph-
ical choice that allowed his patron to identify more closely with the saint
through comparable social rank and hypothetically shared experiences.
Several of the illuminations (folios 5r to 11r) in the Vie make reference
to Mary Magdalene’s noble beginnings, depicting her born to a wealthy
couple, grieving her parents’ untimely death in her youth, inheriting vast
regions of property with her siblings Martha and Lazarus, and enjoying the
diversions of a courtly lifestyle, including banqueting, dancing (fig. 10.2),
hunting, and sharing a romantic dalliance with a handsome courtier.
Although some of these themes, such as the Magdalene’s mourning her
parents’ death, were included occasionally in Magdalenian vitae, there
can be no doubt, given the similarity of circumstances in Louise’s life, that
the specific episodes were included in the Vie because they corresponded
with events in Louise’s background.
Like the Magdalene, Louise lost her parents early in life. Her mother,
Margaret of Bourbon (d.1483), died when Louise was seven and her father,
Philip of Savoy, Count of Bresse (d.1497), sent the girl and her brother
Philibert to live at the court of their maternal aunt, Anne of France, the
a ddressing the question of the number of women identified as Mary Magdalene. Lefèvre
believed that the three women conflated by Pope Gregory into the Roman Catholic Church’s
persona of Mary Magdalene—Luke’s Anointing Sinner, Mary of Magdala, and Mary of Beth-
any—should be recognized and honored individually. De Mariae Magdalenae so enraged
church officials in Paris that Lefèvre sought refuge with Louise of Savoy and her daughter,
Marguerite of Angoulême, who was sympathetic to church reform. Ultimately, Demoulins
includes statements on folios 106v to 108r that align with Lefèvre’s reversal of the Gregorian
conflation. For discussion on Jacques Lefèvre d’Etaples and the Quarrel of the Magdalenes,
see Barbara Stephenson, The Power and Patronage of Marguerite of Navarre, Aldershot, Eng-
land and Burlington, Vermont: Ashgate, 2004, 155–56; Marie Holban, “François du Moulin
de Rochefort et la querelle de la Madeleine.” Humanisme et Renaissance 2 (1935): 26–34;
147–71; A. Hufstader, “Lefèvre d’Etaples and the Magdalene.” Studies in the Renaissance 16
(1969): 381–94, and Philip Edgcumbe Hughes, Lefèvre: Pioneer of Ecclesiastical Renewal in
France (Grand Rapids: W. E. Eerdmans, Pub. Co., 1984).
11 Voragine, Golden Legend, 355–64; “Mary Magdalene had her surname of Magdalo,
a castle, and was born of right noble lineage and parents, which were descended of the
lineage of kings,” 355.
Fig. 10.2. Godefroy le Batave, The Magdalene Dancing, detail from folio 9r from the
Vie de la Magdalene by François Demoulins de Rochefort and Godefroy le Batave,
c. 1516, illuminated manuscript on parchment. Bibliothèque nationale de France,
Paris. BnF., Ms. fr. 24.955. Photo: Paris, Bibliothèque Nationale de France.
daughter of Louis XI and the regent queen of France during the minor-
ity of her brother, Charles VIII (r. 1483–98).12 With her mother dead and
her father absent, Louise was essentially orphaned as a child.13 She was
raised at Anne’s court at Amboise where she was prepared in the social
graces required to ensure a successful aristocratic marriage.14 Thus, the
12 Charles, the son of King Louis XI of France, was born in 1470. He became Charles
VIII when his father died in 1483, but at thirteen years old Charles was too young to rule.
His sister Anne of France shared the regency with her husband Pierre de Beaujeau until
Charles turned fourteen and was eligible to assume the crown. However, Anne remained
the power behind the throne during her brother’s reign. See Knecht, 1–3, and Matarasso,
Queen’s Mate, 15–16, 18–21, 23–24, 26, 33, and Sharon L. Jansen, The Monstrous Regiment
of Women: Female Rulers in Early Modern Europe (New York: Palgrave MacMillan: 2002),
181–82.
13 Knecht, Renaissance Warrior, 1; Matarasso, Queen’s Mate, 36–40; S. Jansen, Monstrous
Regiment, 181–82.
14 Matarasso, Queen’s Mate, 36; S. Jansen, Monstrous Regiment, 181–82. Louise was placed
in the retinue of princess Marguerite of Austria, who was betrothed to Charles VIII. Due to
Fig. 10.3. Godefroy le Batave, The Magdalene Hunting, detail from folio 10r from
the Vie de la Magdalene by François Demoulins de Rochefort and Godefroy le
Batave, c. 1516, illuminated manuscript on parchment. Bibliothèque nationale de
France, Paris. BnF., Ms. fr. 24.955. Photo: Paris, Bibliothèque Nationale de France.
images of the young Magdalene’s grief at the loss of her parents as well as
her involvement in courtly amusements undoubtedly had profound per-
sonal associations for Louise as she read the Vie de la Magdalene, since
her tragic childhood and patrician upbringing would have involved her in
the same activities as those in which Mary Magdalene participated in the
manuscript’s illuminations.
Another image that emphasizes the aristocratic life of the saint is found
on folio 10r in the miniature depicting The Magdalene Hunting (fig. 10.3).
This illumination is particularly significant as it is unique within Magdale-
nian vitae and clearly reflects Louise’s life, a fact that is confirmed by the
details of the image. Undoubtedly, the theme of this scene had considerable
a shift in political alliances, however, Marguerite of Austria never married Charles VIII but
instead, became Louise of Savoy’s sister-in-law when she married Philibert of Savoy.
significance for Louise as an essential member of her son’s court.15 Hunt-

ing, especially from horseback, was a privilege of nobility and an integral
part of French court life, particularly at the court of Francis I, where both
men and women enjoyed hunting with hawk and hound.16 In 1515, Anto-
nio de Beatis remarked that Francis was particularly enthusiastic about
hunting stag with a spear, and the king was renowned for his large kennel
of white hunting dogs.17
The manner in which the Magdalene is depicted hunting on folio 10r
demonstrates the degree to which the miniatures of the Vie reflect Lou-
ise’s life. The Magdalene is shown riding sidesaddle on a large white horse
as she carries a hooded hawk on her wrist. The huntsman leading her
horse holds a spear and three white dogs run beside her. The similarities
between the illumination of the Magdalene hunting in the Vie and the
hunting techniques used at the court of Francis I is confirmed by com-
paring this miniature with another hunting scene created by Godefroy le
Batave for Commentaries de la guerre gallique (fig. 10.4), a collaboration
between the artist and Demoulins created in 1519.18 In this scene, Francis
is shown charging into the woods on a white horse appointed with a black
bridle and breastplate and surrounded by white hounds. The horse, tack,
and dogs bear a strong resemblance to those in the Vie’s miniature of the
Magdalene hunting.
The correspondence of the details in these two images offers undeni-
able proof that the hunting scene in the Vie de la Magdalene was intended
to reference life at Francis’s court just as the hunting illumination from
the Commentaries did in the later manuscript. Thus, the Vie’s hunting
scene, along with the other scenes of the Magdalene’s courtly life, is a rep-
resentation of the saint’s worldly, aristocratic lifestyle depicted in a visual
language Louise would have immediately recognized and the implications
of which she would have understood from her life at court.
15 Knecht, 45, and S. Jansen, 186, 188–89. Both Louise and Marguerite were Francis’s
most trusted confidants and counselors and Louise, in particular, was usually in atten-
dance when her son was at court.
16 Knecht, Renaissance Warrior, 111–12. Hunting provided the courtiers, especially the
men, with the physical activity and heightened awareness needed to stay fit between mili-
tary campaigns.
17 Knecht, Renaissance Warrior, 111–12.
18 Knecht, Renaissance Warrior, 10. Godefroy and Demoulins used the portrait medal-
lion motif in a later manuscript, Commentaries de la guerre gallique (vol. 1: London, British
Library, Harley, Ms. 6205, fol. 3), which was created for Francis I to commemorate the
victory over Massimiliano Sforza following the battle of Marignano. On folio 3 there is a
large three-quarter portrait of Francis by Jean Clouet and below it is a smaller one of Julius
Caesar. See Knecht, Renaissance Warrior, 77–78.
Fig. 10.4. Godefroy le Batave, Francis I Hunting in the Forest of Fontainebleau,

folio 1 from Commentaires de la guerre gallique by François Demoulins de
Rochefort and Albert Pigghe, c. 1519, illuminated manuscript on parchment.
Bibliothèque nationale de France, BnF. Ms. fr. 13429. Photo: Paris, Bibliothèque
Nationale de France.
Not all the images in the Vie de la Magdalene had to be unique to

reflect Louise’s life, as Demoulins and Godefroy also modified traditional
Magdalenian iconography to aid Louise in her identification with the saint.
The illuminations on folios 20r to 43r, for example, detail the death and
resurrection of Lazarus, the brother of Martha of Bethany and, according
to the Gregorian conflation, of Mary Magdalene as well.19 The number of
19 The miracle of the death and resurrection of Lazarus is found in the Gospel of John 11:1–45.
illustrations that deal with the Lazarus theme account for nearly a third of
the total number of illuminated miniatures within the manuscript, giving
this portion of the saint’s story particular prominence and indicating its
significance to the overall purpose of the Vie. As with the images depict-
ing the Magdalene’s aristocratic beginnings, many of the details in the
Lazarus miniatures likewise allude to events in Louise’s life, in this case
referring to the death of her husband, Charles of Angoulême, who died in
1496 when Louise was eighteen.
Although Charles, who was twenty-eight at the time of their betrothal,
originally resisted marriage to the twelve-year old Louise, contemporary
accounts record that they had a happy, devoted, and loving relationship.20
In December of 1495, Charles was stricken with a fever while he, Louise,
and their entourage, which included the historian Jean Saint-Gelais, were
stopped at Châteauneuf on their way from Cognac to the royal court. In
his account of the event, Saint-Gelais emphasized Louise’s devotion to her
husband, stating that she “attended on him day and night as tenderly and
humanely as the poorest wife might nurse her husband.”21 Despite Lou-
ise’s care, however, Charles died a month later, leaving his grief-stricken
wife inconsolable. As Saint-Gelais noted, “she nearly died of grief.”22
Demoulins fully captured the anxiety and grief Louise experienced at
her husband’s illness and death in the Vie’s depiction of Mary Magdalene’s
anguish over Lazarus, who, like Charles of Angoulême, lingered for sev-
eral days before succumbing to his illness. In folio 20r, for example, the
Magdalene kneels by her brother’s bedside in the foreground, while Martha
and their relatives gather on the other side of the bed. In the accompany-
ing narrative on folio 19v, Demoulins notes specifically that Lazarus did
not die “of bad treatment, for he had two sisters who served him with
great courage.” This statement, undoubtedly a reference to Louise’s care
of Charles, was intended both to comfort her and to praise her for her
steadfast efforts to heal her husband. Furthermore, Demoulins repeat-
edly stresses the magnitude of the Magdalene’s grief in the images and
narrative of the Lazarus roundels, statements that likewise were intended
to mirror Louise’s despair at the death of Charles.
20 Knecht, Renaissance Warrior, 1–3; Matarasso, Queen’s Mate, 110; S. Jansen, Monstrous
Regiment, 182. The marriage between Charles and Louise was not consummated until
Louise was fifteen. Louise accepted Charles’s two mistresses with grace and equanimity,
raising his illegitimate daughters along with her children and taking one of her husband’s
mistresses, Antoinette de Polignac, as her companion and lady in waiting.
21 Knecht, Renaissance Warrior, 3–4; Matarasso, Queen’s Mate, 110.
22 Knecht, Renaissance Warrior, 3–4; Matarasso, Queen’s Mate, 110.
The illuminations depicting Lazarus’s burial and funeral procession

likewise allude to the same events surrounding Charles’s death. Two par-
ticularly significant scenes are found on folios 22r (fig. 10.1) and 23r, which
depict Mary Magdalene and Martha preparing Lazarus’s body for burial
and his funeral procession. In both miniatures, Mary Magdalene is placed
in the foreground, giving her the most prominent role in the burial services.
Although the story of Lazarus’s death and resurrection was a popular
theme in Christian art, the specific episodes depicted on folios 22r and 23r,
like the hunting miniature, are unprecedented in Magdalenian iconog-
raphy and undoubtedly were included as references to the funerary ser-
vices and cortege of Charles of Angoulême. Like Mary Magdalene, Louise
of Savoy would have had the most prominent role in these proceedings,
overseeing the preparation of her husband’s body for burial and attend-
ing his coffin throughout the long process of returning him to Cognac for
interment.
The fact that it was Demoulins’s intention to associate the Magdalene’s
anguish at her brother’s untimely death with Louise’s grief at the equally
untimely death of her husband is reinforced by the text found in the accom-
panying roundels. In folio 21v, which narrates the illumination depicting
the preparation of Lazarus’s body by his sisters, Demoulins writes, “The
beautiful Magdalene, who was a Jew, did that for her brother. Showing
by her merciful work that it is necessary to love after death, she said, one
believes, “Oh love, what pain you gave me. Alas my friend, my brother.
By death, our love has been destroyed. ‘For we have been separated by
death.’ ” When placed within the literary topos in which the beloved or
spouse is referred to as “my brother” or “my sister,” this statement clearly
refers to Louise’s grief at the death of her husband.23 Even more significant
is the narrative in folio 22v, which reads, “Oh, unyielding separation of
lovers! Oh, death’s horrid divorce.” These are strange words to describe
the passing of a brother but appropriate to describe the death of a beloved
husband, who is “divorced” from his wife only by death.
23 This is best exemplified by the Song of Solomon. See Song of Solomon 4:10, 12; 5:1,
2, 16; 8:1.
Miraculous Conception and Sacred Anointing
Along with the image of the Magdalene hunting and the illuminations
depicting Lazarus’s death, other themes from the Magdalene’s vita found
in the Vie de la Magdalene make direct reference to the life of Louise
of Savoy. These include several scenes (folios 57r through 59r) illustrat-
ing the Magdalene’s role as intercessor in the conception of a royal heir
for the king and queen of Provence, and the miniature on folio 49r in which
the Magdalene anoints Jesus’s head at the House of Simon the Leper in
Bethany. Both of these themes are directly related to two of the most
important episodes in Louise’s life—her youthful anxiety over conceiving
a son and her ultimate pride in that son’s ascent to the throne of France.
The theme of saintly intercession in the conception of a royal child is
an important theme in the Vie de la Magdalene and is taken from the Leg-
enda Aurea.24 According to the legend, the king and queen of Provence
were the pagan sovereigns of the land where the Magdalene and her com-
panions arrived after their expulsion from Jerusalem. Although initially
resistant to the Magdalene’s attempts to convert them, the royal couple
agreed to accept Christ if the Magdalene could prove his power by inter-
vening on their behalf for a child. The saint consented, the queen was
soon pregnant, and the couple left on a pilgrimage to Rome. While at sea,
the queen died in childbirth and the king was forced to place the dead
mother and living child on a deserted island, praying to Mary Magdalene
to protect his family. On the return trip, the king discovered that his son
and wife, now revived, had indeed been under the Magdalene’s protec-
tion, and the family returned to Provence to be baptized as Christians,
after which the saint retreated to her grotto at La Sainte-Baume.
The circumstances surrounding Louise’s conception of Francis provides
a significant parallel to the theme of saintly intercession in the conception
and birth of a royal heir found in the Vie de la Magdalene. In 1491 Louise
of Savoy, then fourteen, was preparing to assume her role as the wife of
Charles of Angoulême, to whom she had been married two years earlier.
Concerned about her ability to have children, she traveled to Plessis-le-
Tour to visit Francis of Paola, the Franciscan hermit renowned for his
ability to obtain male heirs for the nobility through divine intervention.25
24 Voragine, Golden Legend, 357–60.

25 Knecht, Renaissance Warrior, 3. It was common for children born after the interven-
tion of Francis of Paolo to bear his name.
Louise went to see the old man anxious for news of an heir to carry on
his father’s line and to give her legitimacy as a wife and mother. She left
assured that not only would she give birth to a son, but that the child
would become the king of France.26 This was an astonishing prophecy,
for it would have required Charles VIII and the heir presumptive Louis of
Orleans, both young men, to die without male issue for either Charles of
Angoulême or his son to accede to the throne.
As far as Louise was concerned, however, neither the improbability of
the prediction nor the birth of Marguerite in 1492 discouraged her belief
in the veracity of Francis of Paola’s prophecy. Her hopes were vindicated
when Francis was born in 1494. By 1496 Louise was widowed and her chil-
dren were fatherless. From that day forward, she did all in her power to
ensure that Francis became the royal heir, even rejoicing at the death of
his only rival, the stillborn son of Louis XII and Anne of Brittany, in 1512.27
Three years later, the prophecy of Francis of Paola came true when, in
January 1515, Louise’s son ascended to the throne of France to become
Francis I. The timing of this event is significant in reference to the the-
matic content found in the Vie de la Magdalene. Within a year of Fran-
cis’s accession, the royal family visited the Magdalene’s grotto shrine at
La Sainte-Baume and Louise commissioned Demoulins and Godefroy to
create the manuscript. As a close friend of the royal family, Demoulins
was undoubtedly aware of the prophecy of Francis of Paola and chose to
emphasize the story of Mary Magdalene’s role as intercessor in the birth
of the royal heir of Provence because it closely paralleled Louise’s own
experience.
Like many other aspects of the Vie de la Magdalene, the inclusion of
the illuminations depicting this episode from the Provençal legend served
several purposes. Not only are these scenes integral to the saint’s vita, but
the miniatures also allude to Louise’s meeting with Francis of Paola and
her faith in the efficacy of saintly intervention in the attainment of royal
heirs—a faith that was vindicated with her conception of Francis who,
like the child in the story, received the Magdalene’s protection during a
period of great danger. In Louise’s case, her child was protected by the
26 Knecht, Renaissance Warrior, 3; Matarasso, Queen’s Mate, 112–13.

27 On page 457 of her Journal, Louise wrote the following entry, “On January 21st, Saint
Agnes’ day, at Blois, Anne, queen of France, had a son, but he could not retard the exalta-
tion of my Caesar, for there was no life in him.” See Matarasso, Queen’s Mate, 265, n. 8.
For further information on Louise’s journal, see Hauser, Le Journal, 280–303; Orth, Journal
of Louise of Savoy, 55–66.
saint during a military campaign—the same event that inspired Lou-

ise’s pilgrimage to Provence and, ultimately, the creation of the Vie de la
Magdalene. It is also important to note that in 1515, when the manuscript
was commissioned, Louise was heavily involved in the canonization pro-
cess of Francis of Paola, who had been beatified two years before.28 Thus,
Demoulins’s inclusion of the theme of saintly intercession and protection
was especially timely and appropriate for a manuscript created for Louise
of Savoy during this period.
The story of Mary Magdalene and the Provençal royal family had addi-
tional significance for Louise beyond the references to saintly interven-
tion, for Francis could claim descent from the king and queen of Provence
through his Angevin bloodlines. The House of Anjou, the cadet branch of
the Valois dynasty, was renowned for their veneration of Mary Magdalene,
who was their patron saint. The most important member of the Angevin
dynasty, at least where Mary Magdalene was concerned, was Charles of
Salerno who is credited with discovering the Magdalene’s “true” relics
in Provence and building the Basilica of Saint Mary Magdalene in Saint-
Maximin-Le-Sainte-Baume to honor the saint and preserve her body.29
Louise and her children visited the basilica twice during their pilgrimage
to venerate the saint in the presence of her bodily relics.
Charles, Prince of Salerno, was the son of Charles I of Anjou and Beatrice
of Provence. It was through his mother that Charles of Salerno claimed
descent from the legendary king and queen of Provence via their son, the
same child depicted in the manuscript that was conceived and protected
by the intervention of Mary Magdalene. Charles’s devotion to the saint
was passed down through his descendants, making Mary Magdalene the
most powerful and celebrated protector of the Angevin dynasty, which,
as mentioned above, included Louise’s son, Francis I.30 Demoulins’s
28 David Potter, A History of France 1460–1560: The Emergence of a Nation State (New
York: Saint Martin’s Press, 1995), 211–12.
29 For further discussion on the Angevin connection to the House of Savoy, see
K. Jansen, Making of the Magdalen, 19, 43, 45, 308, 332, 336 and Neal Raymond Clemens,
“The Establishment of the Cult of Mary Magdalen in Provence, 1279–1543,” (PhD diss.,
Columbia University, 1997.) See Chapter 2, pp. 66–122, for discussion of discovery of Mary
Magdalene’s body by Charles of Salerno, and the various monastic and historical accounts
that supported or were extrapolated from Charles’s efforts to find the true remains of Mary
Magdalene. For a discussion on the Angevin dynasty’s devotion to Mary Magdalene, see
Haskins, Myth and Metaphor, 127–29, and K. Jansen, Making of the Magdalen, 19, 43, 45,
307–32, 336.
30 Francis I was descended from Capetian king Louis IX through his maternal grandmother,
Margaret of Bourbon, and from the Valois and Angevin lines through his father Charles
inclusion of the text and images relating the Provençal legend, therefore,
served two purposes in the Vie. The theme referenced the significance of
Louise’s experience with Francis of Paola, and also celebrated her family’s
spiritual connection to Mary Magdalene through their ancestors, the royal
family of Provence, with whom they shared both their devotion to the
saint and the benefit of her saintly protection.
It is important to note that Charles, the Prince of Salerno and Count
of Provence, became Charles II, King of Naples, Sicily and Jerusalem, a
fact that leads to the final theme discussed in this essay, that of Mary
Magdalene’s role in the sacral anointing of kings, and the significance of
this theme in the Vie de la Magdalene.31 There are two illuminations in
the manuscript that depict Mary Magdalene anointing Jesus with per-
fumed oil. Each episode is significantly different from the other and each
is derived from different passages of the New Testament. The illumination
on folio 14r illustrates Christ at the House of Simon the Pharisee. In this well-
known scene from the Gospel of Luke, the anonymous anointing sinner,
commonly identified as Mary Magdalene, performs an act of contrition by
washing Christ’s feet with her tears and using her hair to dry and anoint
them with perfumed oil.32 The second episode, The Anointing at Bethany
(fig. 10.5), is depicted on folio 45r and is found in the Gospels of Matthew
and Mark.33 In both accounts, Mary Magdalene is identified as the unctrix
who anoints Jesus’s head with perfumed oil. The anointing of the Savior’s
head rather than his feet is an important differentiation that symbolically
Valois, Count of Angoulême, who was a descendant of Charles II, King of Naples, Sicily, and
Jerusalem, and Count of Provence. For the genealogy of Francis and Louise, see the genea-
logical tables for the Capetian, Valois, and Angevin dynasties in following sources: Knecht,
Renaissance Warrior, xxv; Matarasso, Queen’s Mate, ix, x; Armin Wolf, “Reigning Queens in
Medieval Europe: When, Where, and Why,” in Medieval Queenship, ed. John Carmi Parsons
(New York: Saint Martin’s Press, 1993), 185–86, and Potter, History of France, 370–77.
See K. Jansen, Making of the Magdalen, 320–28, for discussion of the veneration of Mary
Magdalene by Charles’s descendants in the Angevin dynasty.
31 See Clemens, “Cult of Mary Magdalen,” 66–122, for discussion of discovery of Mary
Magdalene’s body by Charles of Salerno, and the various monastic and historical accounts
that supported or were extrapolated from Charles’s efforts to find the true remains of Mary
Magdalene. See also Haskins, Myth and Metaphor, 127–29, and K. Jansen, Making of the
Magdalen, 19, 43, 45, 308–9, 332, 336. For a discussion on the Angevin dynasty’s devotion to
Mary Magdalene, see K. Jansen, Making of the Magdalen, 307–32 and Otto Pächt, “Dévotion
du roi René pour Sainte Marie-Madeleine et le sanctuaire de Saint Maximin,” Chronique
méridionale: arts du moyen âge et de la Renaissance 1 (1981): 15–28.
32 Luke 7:36–50.
33 Matthew 26:6–13; Mark 14:3–9. Another version of this episode is found in John 12:1–
8, but in this account, John identifies the woman as Mary of Bethany and indicates that
she anoints Christ’s feet.
Fig. 10.5. Godefroy le Batave, The Anointing at Bethany, detail of folio 45r from the
Vie de la Magdalene by François Demoulins de Rochefort and Godefroy le Batave,
c. 1516, illuminated manuscript on parchment. Bibliothèque nationale de France,
Paris. BnF., Ms. fr. 24.955. Photo: Paris, Bibliothèque Nationale de France.
connected Jesus with the Hebrew kings of the past, whose heads were also
anointed with oil as an indication of their sacred kingship. Consequently,
the actions of Mary Magdalene, as the unctrix at Bethany, established
Jesus as “the Christ” or “Anointed One,” and “the King of Kings.”34
While Luke’s account of the anointing sinner who washes Christ’s feet
with her tears and dries them with her hair before anointing them, is one
of the most commonly represented moments from the Magdalene’s story,
the Anointing at Bethany is rarely depicted. However, as with other epi-
sodes discussed in this essay, it is evident that Demoulins chose to include
this unusual scene in the Vie de la Magdalene because of its parallel
34 Potter, A History of France, 4–5; Richard A. Jackson, Vive le Roi!: A History of the
French Coronation from Charles V to Charles X. (Chapel Hill: University of North Carolina
Press, 1984), 16–21.
with Louise’s own experiences. The sacral anointing performed by Mary

Magdalene and depicted on folio 45r reflects an essential ritual performed
during the coronation ceremony of French kings, including Francis I, who
was crowned king of France the year before the manuscript was created.
In a manner similar to Jesus’s anointing by Mary Magdalene, Francis was
anointed in a ceremony known as the sacre, or the Royal Anointing, which
acknowledged and exulted his dual natures as king and priest.35
According to French tradition, the ritual originated in 496 during the
coronation of the Frankish king Clovis.36 At the moment Saint Remigus
placed the crown over the king’s head, a dove descended from heaven
holding the Holy Ampulla, a chrism of oil that was poured on Clovis’s
head as proof of God’s favor.37 The ritual became an essential part of the
coronation ceremony of French kings, with both head and body anointed
with the holy oil to indicate the sacred and supernatural quality of French
kingship.38 After his anointing, the king was awarded the emblems of
state, including the crown and sword, which were carried during the cer-
emony by the twelve pairies anciennes, or Ancient Peers of France. From
the moment of his anointing, a French king was considered spiritually
superior to all other Christian monarchs, thus earning the title, “The Most
Christian King” of France.39 Furthermore, the process of the sacre imbued
the anointed with priestly stature, as his body became the symbol of “the
royal religion.”40 Thus, like the anointing of Christ at Bethany, the sacre of
French kings acknowledged and celebrated their dual natures as king and
priest at the moment of their anointing.
35 Knecht, Renaissance Warrior, 45–46; Jackson, Vive le Roi, 39–41. Although the entire
coronation ceremony is often referred to as “le sacre,” the actual sacre, in which the king’s
body is anointed with sacred oil from the Holy Ampulla, directly precedes the crowning of
the king. For discussion of the origins of the anointing ritual, see Michael J. Enright, Iona,
Tara, and Soissons: The Origins of the Royal Anointing Ritual (Berlin: De Gruyter, 1985). For
origins of the French sacre, see Chapter 3, “Ordaining Pippin: Political Propaganda and the
Reception of the Unction Concept in Francia,” 107–63.
36 Knecht, Renaissance Warrior, 45–46; Jackson, Vive le Roi, 203–6; Potter, A History of
France, 18, 21, 286; Enright, Iona, Tara, and Soissons, 119–37.
37 Jackson, Vive le Roi, 13, 31–32, 176–78, 204–5; Knecht, Renaissance Warrior, 45.
38 Knecht, Renaissance Warrior, 46.
39 Knecht, Renaissance Warrior, 45. By the sixteenth century, the sacre was no longer
considered essential for the assumption of a king’s power, as it was believed the king began
his rule the moment he acceded to the throne, but it continued to have important sym-
bolic and ceremonial meaning to the monarch and the people of France.
40 Knecht, Renaissance Warrior, 46; Jackson, Vive le Roi, 205; Enright, Iona, Tara, and
Soissons, 137–59.
Although largely symbolic by the sixteenth century, the sacre was still
an important part of the ceremony during Francis’s coronation at Rheims
on 25 January 1515. From her position near her son, Louise witnessed
the archbishop’s application of the holy oil to Francis’s head and body,
an action that conferred on him the sanctity of French kingship. It was
undoubtedly Louise’s moment of greatest pride and the fulfillment of all
her aspirations for her son since that fateful meeting with Francis of Paola
twenty-four years before.
With the vision of Francis’s sacre fresh in her mind, Louise could
not have failed to recognize the personal implications of The Anointing
at Bethany illumination in the Vie de la Magdalene, in which Jesus of
Nazareth is acknowledged as the “The King of Kings” by Mary Magdalene’s
anointing of his head. Without a doubt, Demoulins included this unusual
scene from the Magdalene’s iconography because of its clear reference to
recent events in Louise’s life. Equally important, the image would inspire
a profound emotional response in his patron as the illustration of Christ’s
sacral anointing triggered her memories of Francis’s coronation each time
she read the Vie.
The theme of Mary Magdalene’s role as unctrix and the association of
her actions with the sacral anointing of French kings are reiterated in the
representations of the saint’s relics found on folios 69r to 72r of the Vie de
la Magdalene. The illuminations depict the reliquaries commissioned by
Charles of Salerno, including a silver arm and hand, in which a bone can
be seen through a small door, a crystal vessel holding the Magdalene’s hair
beneath a miniature gold and silver Gothic-style baldachin, and a crystal
and gold head reliquary from which the face plate can be removed to
show the saint’s skull. When the saint’s skull was translated to its reliquary
in December 1283, Charles of Salerno, now Charles II, King of Naples, Sic-
ily, and Jerusalem, sent a jeweled diadem to grace the Magdalene’s gilded
brow.41
The miniatures of the reliquaries are the last of the illuminations in
the Vie and provide an appropriate visual conclusion to the Magdalene’s
story. More importantly, the illuminations depict all the parts of the
saint’s anatomy that came into contact with Jesus’s body during the two
anointing episodes, thereby emphasizing the physical reality of the saint
and her actions, and providing a visual testament to her bona fide role
as sacred unctrix. The illuminations depict the objects mentioned above,
41 Haskins, Myth and Metaphor, 131; K. Jansen, Making of the Magdalen, 314.
the arm and hand reliquary, the vessel holding the saint’s hair, and two
views of her head reliquary, both covered and uncovered to show her
skull. In keeping with the famous donation, the illustrations of the head
reliquary depict the Magdalene’s golden hair ennobled with the crown
placed there by Charles II, Francis’s Angevin ancestor, to honor his
patron saint.
Reinforcing the association between the Magdalene’s hair, the tradi-
tional symbol of her role as unctrix, and the anointing and coronation
of French kings is a small but significant detail in the illumination of the
saint’s hair reliquary (fig. 10.6). At the base of the crystal vessel is a heral-
dic shield with the gold and azure bands of the Dukes of Burgundy, a
curious detail since this reliquary was not donated by a Burgundian duke,
but by Charles II, whose own shield does not contain this design. There
are numerous heraldic motifs found throughout the Vie de la Magdalene
that refer to the royal family’s ancestry in the Houses of Valois, Savoy,
and Anjou, as well as referring symbolically to the French monarchy itself.
While the Dukes of Burgundy were members of the Valois dynasty, the
significance of this specific heraldic motif on this particular miniature
resides in its ability to forge a visual and thematic connection between
coronation and anointing, a connection that would have been immedi-
ately understood by Louise as a member of the French peerage and, more
importantly, as a witness to her son’s coronation.
The thematic connection between sacral anointing, the Burgundian
shield, and the Magdalene’s hair reliquary is based on the fact that the
dukes of Burgundy were one of the twelve ancient peerages participating
in the coronation ceremony of the French kings. The six lay peers carried
the royal regalia, with the Duke of Burgundy, the first among the peers,
having the honor of carrying the king’s crown during the sacre and coro-
nation.42 With the other peers, he held the crown over the head of the
new king as the anointing ceremony was performed. When the image of
42 For the crest of the Duchy of Burgundy see Bunel, Arnaud. Armorial Illustré de Grands-
Officiers de la Maison de Rois de France (Paris: Editions Sibauldus, 2006), accessed through
the Arnaud Bunel website: http://www.heraldique-europeenne.org/Regions/France/
Bourgogne.htm. Above the armorial for Burgundy, Bunel notes, “En tant que titulaire de
l’une des Anciennes Pairies de France, le Duc de Bourgogne portait la couronne et mettait
la ceinture du Roi au cours de la cérémonie du Sacre.” See also Knecht, Renaissance War-
rior, 45–46; Jackson, Vive le Roi, 39–40, 157. The Duchy of Burgundy was first among the six
lay peerages, which also included Normandy, Guyenne and Aquitaine, Toulouse, Flanders,
and Champagne. The ecclesiastical peerages were Reims, Laon, Langres, Beauvais, and
Noyon, with the ceremony presided over by the Archbishop of Reims.
Fig. 10.6. Godefroy le Batave, The Magdalene’s Hair Reliquary, detail of folio 70r
from the Vie de la Magdalene by François Demoulins de Rochefort and Godefroy
le Batave, c. 1516, illuminated manuscript on parchment. Bibliothèque nation-
ale de France, Paris. BnF., Ms. fr. 24.955. Photo: Paris, Bibliothèque Nationale
de France.
the hair reliquary is examined within the context of Demoulins’s person-

alization of the Vie de la Magdalene for his patron, it is apparent that the
inclusion of the emblem of the dukes of Burgundy, bearers of the royal
crown, in the miniature of the reliquary holding the Magdalene’s hair,
symbol of the saint’s role as both penitent and anointer, was intended
as with the anointing scene, to inspire an emotional response in Louise
through her remembrance of Francis’s sacre and coronation.
Further proof of Demoulins’s savvy manipulation of the imagery in the
Vie to reflect the personal concerns and aspirations of Louise of Savoy is
found in a detail in the illuminations of the head reliquaries (fig. 10.7).
Kneeling before the saint’s visage in folios 71r and 72r is the tiny figure
of Francis, dressed in royal regalia complete with the crown and sword
of state. Although this image looks like an authentic depiction of the
Magdalene’s head reliquary, it is, in fact, a fabrication, for the original reli-
quary featured not Francis but Anne of Brittany in the role of supplicant.
An eighteenth-century print (fig. 10.8) shows Anne venerating the head of
Fig. 10.7. Godefroy le Batave, The Magdalene’s Head Reliquary with the Skull
Uncovered detail of folio 72r from the Vie de la Magdalene by François Demoulins
de Rochefort and Godefroy le Batave, c. 1516, illuminated manuscript on parch-
ment. Bibliothèque nationale de France, Paris. BnF., Ms. fr. 24.955. Photo: Paris,
Bibliothèque Nationale de France.
Mary Magdalene in a similar position as Francis in the Vie’s illuminations.

Like Louise of Savoy, Anne of Brittany was also deeply devoted to Mary
Magdalene and made a pilgrimage to La Sainte-Baume with her husband,
Louis XII, to ask the saint’s assistance in attaining a male heir. Know-
ing Louise’s antipathy for her rival, Demoulins substituted the figure of
Francis in the Vie de la Magdalene for that of the former queen, implying
both the transference of royal power from one family to the next, as well
as the transference of the spiritual relationship between saint and mon-
arch from Anne to Francis.
This may be another reason for the inclusion of the many royal ref-
erences throughout the Vie de la Magdalene. These images and heraldic
motifs served to glorify the current king and his mother as well as reassure
Louise that Francis’s familial connection to the generations of French
kings who venerated and thus were favored by Mary Magdalene would
ensure the saint’s protection for Louise’s beloved son and the entire royal
Fig. 10.8. Anne of Brittany Adoring the Skull Reliquary of Mary Magdalene (BnF.,
Est. Va. 83, 2.) 18th c., engraving. Photo: Paris, Bibliothèque nationale de France,
Cabinet d’Estampes.
family. The Magdalene had already shown her favor by protecting Francis
during his Italian campaign, and it was to be hoped that she would con-
tinue to protect the royal family and bless their endeavors. At the time of
the manuscript’s creation, the most important of these endeavors was the
birth of healthy male heirs for Louise’s children, sons who would continue
the family’s distinguished royal lineage and equally important, perpetuate
their devotion to Mary Magdalene, thereby ensuring the saint’s protection
for Louise’s descendants.
Prayers and Conclusions
The Vie de la Magdalene concludes on the same poignant note that

inspired its creation—the prayer of a mother to her patron saint for the
well being of her children. On folios 105r to 106v, Demoulins includes a
prayer, written in Louise’s voice, asking Mary Magdalene for her protection
and guidance. In a gesture of humility, Demoulins has Louise address the

saint as “Madame,” the same title that he used for his patron throughout
the manuscript, “Magdalene, you are the one who is worthy of the title
Madame, and I am just Louise of Savoy, who begs you, please, to intercede
for my son, my daughters, and me.” Louise asks the Magdalene to protect
her and her family, and specifically, to strengthen Francis and help him to
know the difference between good and evil advice “in order not to create
suffering around him.” She implores the Magdalene to help her protect
and defend her son, and, reiterating the theme of the Provençal legend,
asks for the saint’s assistance in attaining male heirs for her children. In
one of the most touching passages within the prayer, Louise requests the
Magdalene’s beneficence not only for her own family, but “for the com-
mon good,” thereby extending the saint’s protection beyond the monar-
chy to all the people of France.
As this essay has demonstrated, François Demoulins de Rochefort
designed the Vie de la Magdalene to enhance Louise of Savoy’s devotional
experience of the manuscript. He achieved this in several ways—first, by
emphasizing thematic parallels in the lives of Mary Magdalene and Louise
of Savoy; second, by manipulating traditional Magdalenian iconography
to align more closely with Louise’s personal concerns; third, by inventing
iconographic themes and episodes that are unprecedented in Magdalenian
vitae but are directly relevant to Louise’s life, and finally, by including a
prayer from Louise to Mary Magdalene that gave voice to his patron’s
most heartfelt concerns and aspirations.
As Vibeke Olsen notes in her essay, “Woman, Why Weepest Thou?”
Mary Magdalene, the Virgin Mary and the Transformative Power of Holy
Tears in Late Medieval Devotional Painting,” the manipulation of the
viewer’s emotions to enhance the devotional experience of a religious
work through affective piety was an established technique used by artists
and writers since the medieval period.43 The Vie de la Magdalene repre-
sents the most extreme example of this technique within Magdalenian
vitae. By establishing biographical parallels between Louise and Mary
Magdalene and specifically addressing his patron’s greatest joys and
fears, Demoulins provided Louise with personal points of reference that
enhanced her understanding of the Vie de la Magdalene through a kind of
43 See the chapter by Vibeke Olsen within this volume, “Woman, Why Weepest Thou?”
Mary Magdalene, the Virgin Mary and the Transformative Power of Holy Tears in Late
Medieval Devotional Painting.”
imitatio Magdalenae, allowing her greater emotional access to the spiri-

tual message of the manuscript. Furthermore, by enhancing the affective
content of the Vie de la Magdalene, Demoulins assists Louise in estab-
lishing a deeply personal relationship with Mary Magdalene by using the
saint as her paradigm, or, as he has Louise articulate in the prayer, by
“following your example, Madame.”44
44 BnF., Ms. fr. 24.955, fol. 106v.

chapter eleven
Mary Magdalene Between Public Cult and Personal

Devotion in Correggio’s Noli Me Tangere
Margaret A. Morse
In the 1520s and 1530s, Antonio Allegri, better known as Correggio, painted
a number of religious images intended for the domestic sphere. While
he depicted themes that were typical for private devotion, such as the
Madonna and Child or scenes from Christ’s Passion, his treatment of icon-
ographic details was highly original. Correggio’s Noli me tangere (fig. 11.1),
today in the Prado in Madrid, is representative of his unique approach
to a common subject. Although scholars have analyzed Correggio’s mag-
isterial rendering of this biblical episode in terms of style and the work’s
placement within the career of the artist, they have generally overlooked
the patronage, and thus the painting’s meaning within its original domes-
tic context.1 Created sometime in the 1520s for the Bolognese patron, Vin-
cenzo Ercolani, Corregio’s Noli me tangere operated between the personal
and civic spheres while hanging in his palace. This article establishes a
connection between the figure of Mary Magdalene in Correggio’s painting
and Raphael’s Ecstasy of Saint Cecilia (fig. 11.2), an altarpiece also on display
in Bologna and commissioned by a well-known noblewoman of the city.
Through the iconography of the Magdalene, along with the naturalistic
1 Discussions of the painting appear in major monographs of the artist, including:

Stefano Bottari, Correggio (Milan: Edizioni per il Club del Libro, 1961); Cecil Gould, The
Paintings of Correggio (Ithaca: Cornell University Press, 1976); Mario Di Giampaolo and
Andrea Muzzi, Correggio: catalogo completo dei dipinti (Florence: Cantini, 1993); David
Ekserdjian, Correggio (New Haven: Yale University Press, 1997); Elio Monducci, Il Correg-
gio: la vita e le opere nelle fonti documentarie (Milan: Silvana, 2004); and Giuseppe Adani,
Correggio: pittore universale (1489–1534) (Milan: Silvana, 2007). A more in-depth study
of the image can be found in Andrea Muzzi, Il Correggio e la congregazione cassinese
(Florence: S.P.E.S, 1982), but Muzzi does not examine it in relation to the domestic context.
One of the only exceptions to the lack of discussion of patronage is Giancarla Periti,
“Il Noli me tangere di Correggio: dilectio et delectatio,” Notizie da Palazzo Albani 23 (2004):
51–69; and “Antonio Allegri of Correggio: Private Art, Reception and Theories of Invention
in Early Sixteenth-Century Emilian Painting,” (PhD diss., The Johns Hopkins University,
2003), 299–309. In uncovering new material about the patron’s membership in the devout
confraternity of the Buon Gesù, Periti argues that the painting encouraged subjective piety
in the beholder and contemplation of the divine through representational means.
296 margaret a. morse
Fig. 11.1. Correggio (Antonio Allegri), Noli me tangere, c. 1520s, oil on panel

transferred to canvas, 4 ft. 3 in. × 3 ft. 4 in. (1.3 × 1.03 m). Museo del Prado, Madrid.
Photo: Scala/Art Resource, NY.
rendering of her encounter with the resurrected Christ, Correggio effec-

tively created a work that consciously made reference to Raphael’s public
image and its famous sponsor, and intimately tied the devout beholder to
the sacred subject, both ends of critical importance to a patron attempt-
ing to make amends for his family’s past.2
2 For more on how this painting may have been received as a private devotional image,
see Periti, “Il Noli me tangere di Correggio,” 62–69; and “Antonio Allegri of Correggio . . .,”
299.
between public cult and personal devotion 297
Fig. 11.2. Raphael (Raffaello Sanzio), Saint Cecilia altarpiece, 1514, oil transferred
from panel to canvas, 7 ft. 2 in. × 4 ft. 5 in. (2.2 × 1.36 m). Pinacoteca Nazionale,
Bologna. Photo: Scala/Art Resource, NY.
Correggio’s painting portrays the story of Mary Magdalene’s encounter

with the resurrected Christ, as recorded in John (20:1–19). According to
the Gospel passage, on the morning of the Resurrection, the Magdalene
went to the tomb of Jesus, only to find it empty. In her distraught state,
fearing that the body had been stolen, she encountered Christ. Although
first thinking him to be a gardener, upon her recognition of him, Jesus said
to her “Noli me tangere”—or “touch me not”—“for I am not yet ascended
to my father.”3 Correggio portrayed the moment of Mary Magdalene’s
realization of Christ’s identity. In the painting, having discerned the true
nature of the person before her, Mary Magdalene falls to her knees in a
lush, expansive landscape. A gardening tool, a symbol of the Magdalene’s
initial confusion over the identity of Jesus, is cast aside in the lower right
corner but leads the viewer’s eye to the object of her attention. The resur-
rected Christ, however, is no gardener in Correggio’s image. His Adonis-
like body is largely exposed and bears no traces of his brutal crucifixion;
bright, reflected light accentuates its perfect form, as does the contrasting
deep blue of the drapery and rich earth tones of a gnarled tree and the
foliage that frame it. With one arm raised, Christ points towards the sky
while gesturing down towards the Magdalene with the other, as if pre-
venting her from drawing closer and visually reinforcing the message of
“touch me not.”
Scholars generally date the work to sometime in the 1520s on stylistic
grounds.4 Although the contract for the painting is not extant, documents
record it a few decades after its creation. In his Graticolo di Bologna from
1560, Pietro Lamo first mentioned the painting in the possession of the
noble Ercolani family, who gained their wealth from land holdings in
Faenza, their city of origin.5 Eight years later, in his second edition of the
Lives of the Artists, Giorgio Vasari also chronicled the Noli me tangere as
part of the Ercolani collection, and noted in his biography of Girolamo da
Carpi that after having seen the painting in the Bolognese palace, the art-
ist felt compelled to go to Parma and seek out other works by Correggio.6
3 John 20:17.
4 Muzzi, Il Correggio, 41; Gould, The Paintings of Correggio, 92; Ekserdjian, Correggio,
157–58; and Adani, Correggio, 86. Elio Monducci dates it as early as c. 1518, Il Correggio, 85.
5 The Ercolani became citizens of Bologna in the early part of the fifteenth century.
Periti, “Antonio Allegri of Correggio . . .,” 301.
6 Giorgio Vasari, Le vite de’ più eccellenti pittori, scultori ed architettori, ed. Gaetano
Milanesi, 4 (Florence: G.C. Sansoni Editore, 1906), 53. Lavinia Fontana would have also
likely seen the painting in the Ercolani palace since Vincenzo Ercolani’s brother, Agostino,
was her godfather. Caroline Murphy argues that Correggio’s Noli me tangere was the likely
Given the relatively short time span from the picture’s likely inception
until Lamo’s record, Correggio scholars generally agree that the Emilian
artist painted the image specifically for the Ercolani family. The fact that
this family owned paintings by Francesco Francia and commissioned the
Vision of Ezekial from Raphael (Florence, Palazzo Pitti) lends further cre-
dence to this hypothesis.7
To highlight the distinctiveness of Correggio’s Magdalene for the Ercol-
ani family, it is important to note the differences between this Magdalene
and the artist’s other representations of the saint. Correggio painted Mary
Magdalene at least three other times in his career, although two of these
works are now lost. In his small painting, The Magdalene, presently in
the National Gallery of London (fig. 11.3), and the Magdalene Reading in
a Landscape (formerly Dresden, Gemäldegalerie), Correggio presented
the saint in her well-known guise as the repentant yet seductive hermit.
Although the Magdalene’s pose varies in each of these works, Correggio
consistently painted her as a nude wrapped evocatively in loose drapery,
relaxed and secluded in the wilderness with her tome and ointment jar.
While still shown with long flowing blond hair and possessing some of
the eroticism of his earlier works, the Magdalene of the Ercolani Noli me
tangere is not the reclusive saint who has discarded all of her worldly pos-
sessions; instead, she is more reminiscent of a sixteenth-century noble-
woman. Correggio abandoned the languid poses of the former images to
show the Magdalene in a heightened physical and emotional state, and
renounced the previous nudity in favor of a striking and richly patterned
dress of sumptuous cloth of gold that resembled contemporary attire.8
His decision to clothe the Magdalene in an ornate and luxurious gown,
as opposed to portraying her as a nude, raises questions about his inten-
tions and suggests that another source encouraged him to portray the
Magdalene in a different manner.
For inspiration for the figure of Mary Magdalene, the patron and his
artist only had to look across the street to their parish church of San
Giovanni in Monte at Raphael’s Ecstasy of Saint Cecilia altarpiece, a work
representative of the burgeoning cult of one of Bologna’s most prominent
inspiration for Lavinia’s version of the subject. Lavinia Fontana: A Painter and Her Patrons
in Sixteenth-Century Bologna (New Haven: Yale University Press, 2003), 23, 34.
7 Periti, “Il Noli me tangere, di Correggio . . .,” 60; Ekserdjian, Correggio, 157–58.
8 For the meaning and use of the term “cloth of gold” in early modern Europe, see
Lisa Monnas, Merchants, Princes and Painters: Silk Fabrics in Italian and Northern Paintings
1300–1550 (New Haven: Yale University Press, 2008), 299–300.
Fig. 11.3. Correggio (Antonio Allegri), The Magdalene, perhaps about 1518–19, oil
on canvas, 15 in. × 12 in. (38.1 × 30.5 cm). Salting Bequest, 1910 (NG2512) National
Gallery, London. Photo: National Gallery, London/Art Resource, NY.
citizens.9 Installed in a chapel adjacent to San Giovanni in Monte in

1516, the Ecstasy of Saint Cecilia represents a sacra conversazione featur-
ing Saint Cecilia in the center, with Saints John the Evangelist and Paul
to the left and Saints Augustine and Mary Magdalene to the right. Saint
Cecilia’s upward gaze at a choir of angels in the clouds, the portable organ
in her hands, and the instruments strewn on the ground before her easily
9 Regina Stefaniak, “Raphael’s Santa Cecilia: A Fine and Private Vision of Virginity,” Art
History 14 (September 1991): 345. Raphael’s Saint Cecilia was commissioned and painted
between 1513 and 1516, based on Vasari’s account in his “Life of Raphael.”
identify her as the patron saint of music. Raphael also drew attention to
her figure through her glistening gold and richly patterned dress.10 She
is much more sumptuously clothed than the other female saint in the
image, Mary Magdalene, whose voluminous drapery is relatively neutral
in color and style, except for the deep shadows that it creates.
A quick glance at Correggio’s Ercolani Noli me tangere and Raphael’s
Ecstasy of Saint Cecilia makes it evident that Correggio based the attire of
Mary Magdalene on that of Saint Cecilia in Raphael’s painting. The pat-
terns of the dresses, with their plant forms and crisscross design, along
with their golden color, shimmering surfaces, open sleeves with white
underlay, and high waists, are similarities that David Ekserdjian, in his
monograph on Correggio, claims cannot be mere coincidence (figs. 11.4
and 11.5).11 While noting Correggio’s dependence on Raphael, scholars have
not explored the deeper meaning of this borrowing and the conscious
connection between the two paintings that it created. In light of Correg-
gio’s deliberate imitation of Saint Cecilia’s gown in Raphael’s painting, a
background understanding of the Ecstasy of Saint Cecilia will provide fur-
ther insight into the meaning of the Noli me tangere and its icongraphic
details.
The Ecstasy of Saint Cecilia was commissioned by the Bolognese noble-
woman, Elena Duglioli dall’Olio, through the mediation of her friend
Antonio Pucci, a Florentine canon and later Bishop of Pistoia, and his
uncle, Lorenzo Pucci, cardinal and papal official to the chapel of Saint
Cecilia adjoining San Giovanni in Monte. Elena established the chapel
where the altarpiece hung and that housed the relics of the saint.12 The
painting by Raphael was famous in its own day because of the artist’s
and its patron’s fame and reputation. Scholars have long recognized the
connection between the life of Elena, Raphael’s patron, and Saint Cecilia.13
An early Christian martyr, Saint Cecilia committed herself to remain a
virgin to her new spouse, Valerian, on the night of their wedding. Elena
10 Stanisław Mossakowski, “Raphael’s St. Cecilia. An Iconographical Study,” Zeitschrift

für Kunstgeschichte 31 (1968): 1–26, especially 5.
11 Ekserdjian, Correggio, 158.
12 Mossakowski, “Raphael’s ‘St. Cecilia’,” 1–2. For more on the life of the patron and
the commissioning of the altarpiece, see Gabriella Zarri, “Storia di una committenza,” in
L’Estasi di Santa Cecilia di Raffaello da Urbino nella Pinacoteca Nazionale di Bologna, ed.
Carla Bernardini, Andrea Emiliani, and Gabriella Zarri (Bologna: Edizioni ALFA, 1983),
21–38. For detailed studies of the history and architecture of the chapel, see Angelo Mazza,
“Árduino Arriguzzi e la cappella della beata Elena,” and “Le vicende storiche della Santa
Cecilia,” in Bernardini, Emiliani, and Zarri, L’Estasi di Santa Cecilia, 50–55, 63–80, 91–103.
13 See especially Mossakowski, “Raphael’s ‘St. Cecilia’. . . .”
Fig. 11.4. Correggio, Noli me tangere, detail of the dress of Mary Magdalene. Photo:
Scala/Art Resource, NY.
identified herself with Saint Cecilia when she declared the same course of
action to her newlywed husband, Benedetto dall’Olio. Her chaste lifestyle
gained Elena widespread fame and provoked considerable devotion, lead-
ing to her beatification after her death.14 In this context, scholars have
interpreted the altarpiece as an adulation of purity that was embodied in
the figure of Cecilia and upheld by the painting’s patron.15
The same year that Raphael’s altarpiece was installed in the Church
of San Giovanni in Monte, the theologian Josse Clichthove (1472–1543)
14 Paola Tinagli, Women in Italian Renaissance Art: Gender, Representation, and Iden-
tity (Manchester: Manchester University Press, 1997), 167. Her hagiographic legend was
recorded between 1529 and 1531, and the work frequently refers to Elena as “un’altra
Cecilia,” or “another Cecilia.” Zarri, “Storia di una committenza,” 21.
15 The supporting saints contribute to this professed ideal. Elena was devoted to Saint
John, who had long been honored as a patron of virginity, and Saint Paul, who extolled the
state of celibacy in his first letter to the Corinthians, while Augustine and Mary Magdalene
represent purity attained through expiation of sin. Mossakowski, “Raphael’s ‘Saint
Cecilia’ . . .,” 2. Regina Stefaniak offers an alternate reading of the painting by investigating
Antonio Pucci’s interest in ecclesiastical reform and his involvement in the commission,
particularly in relation to the figure of Mary Magdalene. Stefaniak argues that Raphael’s
lovely yet enigmatic Magdalene provided a counterbalance to the central Saint Cecilia; the
Magdalene’s sexuality equalized the contemporary cultural privileging of virginity associ-
ated with the chaste saint, indicating the precarious position of the Church on the dawn
of the Reformation. Stefaniak, “Raphael’s Santa Cecilia . . .,” especially 353–57.
Fig. 11.5. Raphael, Saint Cecilia, detail of the dress of Saint Cecilia. Photo: Scala/
Art Resource, NY.
wrote and published a small literary work in praise of Saint Cecilia, De lau-
dibus sacratissimae virginis et martyris Caeciliae. In this text, Clichthove
equated Cecilia with the bride of Christ, a figure and a concept derived
from the Old Testament Song of Songs, one of the three books of Solomon
that describes, using highly erotic language, the love between a man and
a woman. In the Judaic tradition the book was interpreted as an allegory
of Yahweh’s love for Israel, while early Christian commentators viewed
it as Christ’s love for his Church, the Virgin Mary, or the adoring soul.16
Throughout the Middle Ages and into the Renaissance, the Song of Songs
was one of the most commented upon books of Scripture, and was used as
an aid to both personal and public devotion.17 Elena herself was preoccu-
pied with the Song of Songs, announcing upon her husband’s death in 1516
that she was free to betroth Christ, and even calling on a preacher from
Venice to elucidate the spiritual text for her. In his praise account of Saint
Cecilia, Clichtove alludes to the Old Testament text when describing the
saint as radiant and, just as Raphael’s painting depicts her, bedecked in
a dress of shimmering gold for her wedding to Valerian. It was this event
that signified Cecilia’s spiritual marriage with Christ through their subse-
quent chaste union.18 In Raphael’s Ecstasy, the golden wedding dress thus
becomes an attribute of the saint and a symbol of her virginal state. Visu-
ally and iconographically, she stands in stark contrast to Mary Magdalene,
the adulterous sinner at the far right of the painting, whose unchaste state
is signified by the unusual darkness that envelopes the space before her.19
That Mary Magdalene was one of the female saints included in Raphael’s
Ecstasy makes Correggio’s borrowing of the figure of Saint Cecilia for his
representation of the Magdalene even more conspicuous. Mary Magdalene
in Correggio’s paintings is not the shadowy woman of Raphael’s altarpiece,
nor does she conform to traditional representations of the saint. Artists
often employed the color red for the garments of the Magdalene to denote
her sin, as seen in Giotto’s Noli me tangere images in both the Arena
16 For more on the Song of Songs, see Ann W. Astell, The Song of Songs in the Middle
Ages (Ithaca: Cornell University Press, 1990); E. Ann Matter, The Voice of My Beloved: The
Song of Songs in Western Medieval Christianity (Philadelphia: University of Pennsylva-
nia, 1990); and Denys Turner, Eros and Allegory: Medieval Exegesis of the Song of Songs
(Kalamazoo: Cistercian Publications, 1995).
17 Matter, The Voice of My Beloved, 6; Astell, The Song of Songs, 73–104; and Turner, Eros
and Allegory, 38–39.
18 Stefaniak, “Raphael’s Santa Cecilia . . .,” 352.
19 For a discussion of the shadow associated with Mary Magdalene in Raphael’s altar-
piece, see Stefaniak, “Raphael’s Santa Cecilia . . .,” esp. 353–57.
Chapel in Padua and the Magdalene Chapel in the Church of San Francesco
in Assisi, and Titian’s version of the scene from 1511–12, today in the National
Gallery in London. The substitution of red for a gold gown in Correggio’s
painting signals a noticeable shift in the iconography of the saint.20 She is
bedecked in the radiant gold worn by Saint Cecilia in Raphael’s altarpiece.
Correggio consciously replicated not just the color but also the details of
Cecilia’s dress, the only vestment in Raphael’s painting that emulates
contemporary styles and clearly stands apart from the more “academic”
drapery of the other saints represented, to draw a specific and deliberate
link between these two seemingly disparate figures.21
The transformation of the virginal Cecilia into the Magdalene with an
almost identical gold dress linked Correggio’s new image to be displayed
in the palace of Vincenzo Ercolani to the famous altarpiece located in the
patron’s parish church across the street.22 The connection moved beyond
visual recognition, however, to something more intellectual and spiri-
tual, centering on the idea of union with Christ as presented in the Song
of Songs. Like Saint Cecilia, Mary Magdalene was also equated with the
Bride of Christ of the Song of Songs in both text and image. Early Christian
20 Ekserdjian notes that yellow was a color often indicative of prostitution, but the gold
gown of the Magdalene in this painting does not function as an attribute of the repentant
saint. Ekserdjian, Correggio, 158.
21 Iolanda Silvestri commented on the fact that Cecilia’s dress in the only garment in
Raphael’s painting that resembles fine contemporary textiles, which purposefully sets
it apart from the clothing of the other figures. Silvestri, “La veste di Santa Cecilia,” in
Bernardini, Emiliani, and Zarri, L’Estasi di Santa Cecilia, 245.
22 Correggio’s borrowing of Cecilia’s golden gown exemplifies Renaissance theories of
imitation. Taking their cue from poetry in an effort to elevate painting, sculpture, and
architecture to the status of the liberal arts, art theorists of the Renaissance advanced imi-
tation as a moral, intellectual, and aesthetic activity and artists of the sixteenth and sev-
enteenth centuries routinely put this concept into practice. Painters selectively repeated
the style, entire compositional passages or, as is the case of Correggio’s painting, individual
motifs from past and contemporary works of art in a manner that made evident to the
learned viewer the original source; as stated by Maria Loh in her article on the subject,
“. . . repetition . . . reveals how one work situates itself in relation to another.” Loh, “New and
Improved: Repetition as Originality in Italian Baroque Practice and Theory,” Art Bulletin 86
(September 2004): 477–504, esp. 492. Good imitation was not mere copying, however, but
involved resemblance, and theorists borrowed the trope of Petrarch who compared the
practice to sons who look like their fathers yet possess their own distinct characteristics.
The new had to differ from the old, but also had to be endowed with the essential quali-
ties of its model to be successful, Loh, 494. For more on imitation in the Renaissance and
Baroque, see also George Pigman, “Versions of Imitation in the Renaissance,” Renaissance
Quarterly 33 (1980): 1–32; Thomas Greene, The Light in Troy: Imitation and Discovery in
Renaissance Poetry (New Haven: Yale University Press, 1982); and Anthony Colantuono,
“Titian’s Tender Infants: On the Imitation of Venetian Painting in Baroque Rome,” I Tatti
Studies 3 (1989): 207–34.
writers, including Hippolytus of Rome, Saint Augustine, and later Gregory

the Great, likened the Magdalene’s search for Christ on the morning of
the Resurrection to the search of the bride for her bridegroom at dawn
from the Song of Songs. Throughout the Middle Ages, writers such as Saint
Anselm of Canterbury, in his lyrical prayer addressed to the saint, and
Pseudo-Bonaventure in the Meditations on the Life of Christ, described the
Magdalene as the “blessed lover of Christ.”23 Noli me tangere images rep-
resent the conclusion of Mary Magdalene’s pursuit, and, in Correggio’s
painting, by fashioning her dress after Raphael’s central saint, with its
golden hue and intertwined plantlike motif, the artist reinforced her role
as Christ’s beloved, equivalent to the chaste Saint Cecilia.
Other paintings by Correggio reinforce the artist’s familiarity with the
symbolic connotations of the golden dress. He often depicted female
saints in union with the infant Christ in similar gold gowns. For example,
in his Mystic Marriage of Saint Catherine in the Museo Capodimonte in
Naples and his Mystic Marriage of Saint Catherine with Saint Sebastian in
the Louvre in Paris, both dated to the 1520s, Correggio identifies Saint
Catherine as the bride of Christ not only through the symbolic alliance
of rings, but also with her glimmering golden dress.24 Parmigianino,
an artist who worked in Bologna and neighboring Emilian cities and
likely studied under Correggio, appears to have appropriated this theme
of the golden bride from his master. According to David Eskerdjian,
Parmigianino modeled his final version of the Madonna of Saint Margaret,
a work commissioned by the nuns of Santa Margherita in 1530 for their
convent in Bologna, after Correggio’s Noli me tangere.25 This sacra con-
versazione, today in the Pinacoteca Nazionale in Bologna, depicts Saint
Margaret in the foreground along with the Madonna and Child, Saints
Benedict and Jerome, and an angel. Similar to the Magdalene in Correg-
gio’s painting, Parmigianino’s female saint kneels before Christ, her head
upturned and seen in profile, gazing longingly into the eyes of the infant
who reaches out for her.26 This intense stare between Saint Margaret and
the infant Christ does not exist in the surviving preparatory drawings for
23 Susan Haskins, Mary Magdalen: Myth and Metaphor (New York: Roverhead Books,
1993), 190–1.
24 For more on these two paintings, see Ekserdjian, Correggio, 138–39, 150–51.
25 Vasari states that Girolamo da Carpi copied this painting in the Ercolani household,
and it is likely that the image was equally accessible to Parmigianino when he was in the
city. See David Ekserdjian, “Parmigianino’s ‘Madonna of Saint Margaret’,” The Burlington
Magazine (September, 1983): 542–46, specifically 545.
26 Ekserdjian, “Parmigianino’s ‘Madonna of Saint Margaret’ . . .,” 545.
the Madonna of Saint Margaret, suggesting that Parmigianino could have

adjusted his initial invention after having seen Correggio’s composition.
The cloth of gold dress that Saint Margaret wears, accented by the white
collar around the neck, also strongly indicates that Correggio’s Noli me
tangere was Parmigianino’s source.27 In all of these instances, it appears
that both artists made reference to the golden bridal gown of the spouse
of Christ first worn by Cecilia at her wedding, and illustrated by Raphael
in his famous altarpiece in Bologna.
Correggio did not borrow the gown of Saint Cecilia for the figure of
Mary Magdalene exclusively to recall the Bride of Christ from the Song
of Songs. The visual connection also reflects the desire of the patron of
the Noli me tangere to be linked to Elena Duglioli dall’Olio, the donor
of Raphael’s altarpiece. While scholars do not know the specific member
of the Ercolani family who commissioned the painting, an examination of
the life of Vincenzo (1500–57) makes him the likely patron. In fact, the
particular details of Vincenzo’s career in the context of the political
and religious climate in Bologna reveal that he had specific motivations
for forging a connection with Elena, the powerful patron of Raphael’s
painting.
The status of the Ercolani family in the first few decades of the six-
teenth century fluctuated as Bologna transitioned from the despotic rule
of Giovanni Bentivoglio to papal control. Giacomo Ercolani (1466–1517),
father of Vincenzo, was a loyal supporter of the Bentivoglio clan, even
after their expulsion from the city in 1506, and he vehemently opposed the
papal regime that took its place.28 Elena Duglioli dall’Olio, on the other
hand, the patron of Raphael’s altarpiece, was a defender of the papal lega-
tion, and ecclesiastical authorities vigorously promoted her cult in Bolo-
gna after the fall of the Bentivoglio as a means of garnering support for
the newly instituted papal government.29 In addition, her advisors for
the Saint Cecilia altarpiece, Antonio and Lorenzo Pucci, occupied high
27 Ekserdjian, “Parmigianino’s ‘Madonna of Saint Margaret’ . . .,” 544–45.

28 His fine of 1000 ducats charged by the papal legate in 1508 for sacking the palace
of the Marescotti, advocates of the pope and ecclesiastical control in Bologna, indicates
his political stance. Josephine Jungić, “Raphael at Bologna and Savonarola’s Prophecies
of a Renovatio Ecclesiae’,” Art History 16 (December 1993): 580–99, specifically 588; also
see Pompeo Scipione Dolfi, Cronologia delle famiglie nobili di Bologna (Bologna: Arnaldo
Forni, 1670), 290.
29 Elena orchestrated a group of supporters to send a letter to the Pope expressing their
satisfaction with the papal presence in their city on behalf of her friend Cardinal Legate
Alidosi. Jungić, “Raphael at Bologna . . .,” 589–90.
ecclesiastical positions and at various times were both at the papal courts
of Julius II and Leo X. While Giacomo Ercolani did continue to serve on
the city council after the fall of the Bentivoglio, given his earlier political
affiliations and anti-papal sentiments, it is unlikely he would have been
one of the many Bolognese citizens devoted to Elena’s cult.30
Why the Ercolani family would have approved for their domestic spaces
a painting in which the Magdalene’s dress consciously imitated the golden
gown of Cecilia, a surrogate for Elena in the eyes of the Bolognese, is a
significant question and can best be answered by advocating Vincenzo as
a patron. Giacomo died in 1517, and thus it is doubtful that he commis-
sioned Correggio to paint the Noli me tangere. It is more than a logical
timeline, however, that establishes Vincenzo as the probable patron of the
work.31 The younger Ercolani had strong motives for commissioning the
Noli me tangere partly in imitation of Raphael’s work.32 Vincenzo made a
conscious effort to embark on a career path that would ally him with the
newly established papal regime in Bologna. In 1516, at only sixteen years
old, he was elected to the city council. After his father’s death the follow-
ing year, Vincenzo continued his endeavors to situate his family in a more
favorable and stable position in Bolognese politics and society. In 1527 he
was appointed Gonfaloniere of the commune. A year later he obtained a
senate seat, and Julius III awarded him the prominent title of cavaliere.33
Vincenzo attempted to solidify and publicize his political partnership
with the papacy and its allies not only through tactical career moves, but
also through visual means that concentrated on the domestic sphere.
As with other powerful families in Bologna and throughout Italy in the
sixteenth century, the palace and its decoration were a primary means
by which he achieved such a goal. Scholarship on the domestic interior
has demonstrated that the house functioned as the physical and sym-
bolic embodiment of the family that dwelled there; thus the practice
of commissioning and collecting works of art for this sphere provided a
channel for the formation of its honor and identity in a particular place
30 Periti, “Il Noli me tangere di Correggio . . .,” 60.

31 Vincenzo also had two brothers, Domenico and Agostino, but they would have been
teenagers at the time that Correggio’s painting was commissioned.
32 Jungic argues that Vincenzo’s father, Giacomo, also commissioned a painting,
Raphael’s Vision of Ezekial, with specific iconography that was in response to the artist’s
Ecstasy of Saint Cecilia, but with very different intentions than his son. Jungić, “Raphael at
Bologna . . . .”
33 Periti, “Il Noli me tangere di Correggio . . .,” 60; Cecilia Ady, The Bentivoglio of Bologna:
A Study in Despotism, (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1937), 118–33.
and time.34 While there is no documentation to confirm it, Vincenzo’s

advancement in politics quite possibly precipitated the family’s remod-
eling of their prestigious palace in 1520, which was prominently located
across the street from the church of San Giovanni in Monte, where the
Saint Cecilia altarpiece had recently been installed.35 Such updates to the
Ercolani residence certainly sealed the family’s identity in Bologna during
a period of major political and social transitions. Moreover, in the display
culture of sixteenth-century Italy, the objects assembled inside the palace
were just as important as the physical structure itself. Access to a family’s
living quarters was certainly limited to people outside the household, but
far from restricted; domestic spaces frequently served as sites of banquets,
concerts, and other forms of entertainment, as well as politics and busi-
ness. Many wealthy families and individuals began to actively acquire for
their homes objects of aesthetic beauty and intellectual scope, including
antiquities, books, gems, and paintings by prominent artists, with a broad
public in mind.36
Correggio’s Noli me tangere figured into such display strategies. The
Saint Cecilia altarpiece across the street from the Ercolani palace had rap-
idly acquired great fame in Bologna and the surrounding region because
of the distinction of its artist, Raphael, and the reputation of the patron
and her growing cult. Nearly all visitors to the Ercolani household, par-
ticularly those from Bologna, could have identified the source of Mary
Magdalene’s gown in Correggio’s painting as the dress of Raphael’s Saint
Cecilia; the strong visual association between the two works thereby
forced the mental connection between their two patrons, making evident
34 The role of domestic visual arts in defining identity is discussed by a number of

scholars, including: Patricia Fortini Brown, “Behind the Walls: the Material Culture of
Venetian Elites,” in Venice Reconsidered: The History and Civilization of an Italian City-State,
1297–1797, ed. John Martin and Dennis Romano (Baltimore: The Johns Hopkins University
Press, 2000), 295–338; and Private Lives in Renaissance Venice: Art, Architecture and the
Family (New Haven: Yale University Press, 2004); Richard A. Goldthwaite, “The Floren-
tine Palace as Domestic Architecture,” American Historical Review 77 (1972): 977–1012; and
Wealth and the Demand for Art in Italy, 1300–1600 (Baltimore: The Johns Hopkins Univer-
sity Press, 1993); Dale Kent, Cosimo De’Medici and the Florentine Renaissance: The Patron’s
Oeuvre (New Haven: Yale University Press, 2000); Luke Syson and Dora Thornton, Objects
of Virtue: Art in Renaissance Italy (London: British Museum Press, 2001); Marta Ajmar-
Wollheim and Flora Dennis, eds., At Home in Renaissance Italy (New York: Harry N. Abrams,
2006); Jacqueline Marie Musacchio, Art, Marriage and Family in the Florentine Renaissance
Palace (New Haven: Yale University Press, 2008); and Blake de Maria, Becoming Venetian:
Immigrants and the Arts in Early Modern Venice (New Haven: Yale University Press, 2010).
35 Periti, “Il Noli me tangere di Correggio . . .,” 60.
36 See literature cited in n. 34.
with whom Vincenzo wished to ally himself.37 Because of her popularity

as a penitent and her rejection of a sinful past, Mary Magdalene was the
supreme saint for articulating such a statement on behalf of the patron.
By choosing the sinner par excellence over the more obvious figure of
Cecilia, Vincenzo announced his repentance for his family’s past, as well
as his current moral standing, while making reference to another saint
and, more importantly, a patron who had achieved such prominence in
his hometown. Through visual and iconographic choices, Vincenzo posi-
tioned himself as a proponent of Elena and her pro-papal stance.
In a family where alliances and ideologies may not have been consis-
tently shared, Correggio’s painting also functioned internally within the
home. Documents attest to Vincenzo’s piety and his likely desire to make
the personal sphere a devout space. His name appears in the Matricola
of the Bolognese confraternity of Buon Gesù, a lay group dedicated to
the holy name of Jesus and whose membership consisted of the city’s
most politically prominent individuals. The statutes of the confraternity
required its members to place the insignia of Christ over the door of their
houses, and strongly urged them to hang religious images in the home.
They also advocated meditative exercises that directed focus on the Pas-
sion and encouraged its members to identify themselves as Christ’s dis-
ciples and lay friends.38
Mary Magdalene served as an ideal model for such devotional prac-
tices, and perhaps more than any other female figure, she had the capacity
to appeal to a male patron and his spiritual needs. As first witness to the
Resurrection and thus human salvation, she was an active, faithful, and
moreover, cherished, disciple of Jesus.39 According to Daniel Russo, the
Magdalene’s very existence in image and text depended on Christ.40 Her
solitary encounter with him in the garden, as exemplified in the Noli me
tangere story and its representations, was an event that underscored an
intimate union with the divine. Christ restricted her from touching him
so as to comprehend that her desire to be near him had to go beyond
37 Some of the visitors to the Ercolani palace were artists (see above, n. 25).
38 Periti, “Il Noli me tangere di Correggio . . .,” 61–62.
39 Katherine Jansen has analyzed the Magdalene’s ability to influence both male and
female audiences in The Making of the Magdalen: Preaching and Popular Devotion in the
Later Middle Ages (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 2000).
40 Daniel Russo, “Entre Christ et Marie: la Madeleine dans l’art Italien des XIIIe–XVe
siècles,” in Marie Madeleine dans la mystique, les arts et les letters, actes du colloque inter-
national Avignon 20–21–22 juillet 1988, ed. Eve Duperray (Paris: Beauchesne, 1989), 173–90:
174.
the physical.41 In Correggio’s painting, Christ’s emphatic gesture and con-

trapposto pose function as a rhetorical call for Mary Magdalene, firmly
grounded to the earth, to forego the incertitude of the material world and
embrace the divine.42 As the bride searching for her bridegroom from the
Song of Songs, Mary Magdalene directed the individual worshipper to
discern his or her own love relationship with God, thereby enabling the
allegory of the Old Testament book to be translated directly to personal
experience.43 Moreover, in both her biblical and legendary accounts,
Mary Magdalene personified sin and repentance. The fact that Christ first
appeared to her indicates that all, even the most disgraced, could achieve
the salvation he brought to mankind through his Resurrection. This theme
would have held particular relevance for Vincenzo Ercolani while he was
trying to amend what he likely saw as his family’s sinful past.
Correggio’s naturalism contributed to the idea of a spiritual union
between man and the divine, advocated by Vincenzo’s confraternity and
underscored in both the Song of Songs and the story of the Magdalene’s
encounter with Christ. Such an alliance was made more potent through
the reasoning of the Incarnation, when God embodied his divine idea in
human form.44 Identification with Christ as man was the means of access
to this vision of the mystical marriage, astutely expressed by Ann Matter
as “. . . a physical understanding of the glorified body of the resurrection.”45
Correggio’s naturalism in the Noli me tangere reinforces the necessity of
bodily recognition as the first step to deeper, spiritual meaning, similar to
the vivid and descriptive language, the “incarnational rhetoric,” used in
the Song of Songs.46 Christ is not the covered nor humble gardener seen
in other versions of the Noli me tangere;47 instead, Correggio exposes his
unmarred body, which Periti argues has Eucharistic significance, as the
object of Mary Magdalene’s desire.48 The posture and expression of the
saint in response to such a vision—her outstretched arms, upward gaze,
41 Muzzi, Il Correggio, 42.

42 Muzzi, Il Correggio, 43–44.
43 Astell, The Song of Songs, 73, 99.
44 Astell, The Song of Songs, 101.
45 Matter, The Voice of My Beloved, 142.
46 Astell, The Song of Songs, 102.
47 Examples include: Fra Angelico’s version in the monastery of San Marco, Florence,
1440–41; a predella panel from an altarpiece painted by Sandro Botticelli from the convent
of Sant’Elisabetta delle Convertite in Florence, c. 1491 (Philadelphia Museum of Art); a
Lucas van Leyden engraving from 1519; a painting by Jacopo Pontormo now in a private
collection in Milan; and Lavinia Fontana’s rendering, 1581 (Uffizi Galleries, Florence).
48 Periti, “Il Noli me tangere di Correggio . . ., 66.
and parted mouth—clearly denote an ecstatic state that encompasses

both joy and longing that physically overtakes her.
Setting, combined with Correggio’s narrative ability and naturalistic
style, underscore the corporeality of Mary Magdalene’s encounter with
Christ that moves her to spiritual union. The figures are located within a
scrupulously presented landscape that occupies at least half, if not more,
of the painting in relation to the protagonists, indicating the importance
the artist placed on providing a credible environment in which figures
interact.49 Depicted at Christ’s feet are gardening tools and a straw hat, a
reminder that Mary had initially thought him to be a gardener. Although
Correggio painted a spiritually elevated subject of the union between man
(or woman) and God, he bestowed a degree of sensuality and tangibility
in the figures’ flesh, dress, and the natural world that surrounds them.
The artist’s painterly vision contributes to the tension between material
and spiritual that the Magdalene herself encountered in her reunion with
Christ.50
The dichotomy between corporeal and divine inherent in Correggio’s
subject and style stems in large part from the Emilian tradition of paint-
ing from which the artist emerged. In a seminal essay on the Carracci and
their artistic background, Charles Dempsey drew much needed attention
to the distinct manner of painting used by artists working in and around
Bologna during the Renaissance: the maniera devota fashioned from the
styles of painters such as Francesco Francia, Lorenzo Costa, Perugino and
the young Raphael. First labeled by Vasari, this “devout style” was a man-
ner of expression appropriate to the sacredness of the subjects depicted
in order to inspire devotion in the beholder. The hallmarks of the style
include its tenderness of coloring and idealized, yet somewhat sentimen-
tal, figures.51 The maniera devota lies at the core of the art of Correg-
gio, who integrated its pious aims with a general understanding of the
“modern manner” being practiced by artists working in Rome and
49 Muzzi also makes this point in his study, Arte e “assimilatio” nei dipinti religiosi del
Correggio. Una lettura del “Riposo” degli Uffizi e di altri soggetti (Milan: Silvana Editoriale,
1999), where he looks at Correggio’s Rest on the Flight into Egypt from c. 1520 and other
works by the artist that revolve around this same theme, 42–44. Periti argues that the
beauty and believability of the landscape follows Pauline doctrine and moves the viewer
to contemplate divine truths. Periti, “Il Noli me tangere di Correggio . . ., 64.
50 Pier Paolo Mendogni, Il Correggio a Parma (Parma: Ugo Guanda, 1989), 14.
51 Charles Dempsey, “The Carracci and the devout style in Emilia,” in Emilian Painting
of the 16th and 17th Centuries: a Symposium, ed. Henry A. Millon, et al. (Washington, DC:
National Gallery of Art, 1986), 75–76.
Florence. Dempsey described Correggio’s approach as “a modernization of

the devout style, a mode of painting that did not compromise its charac-
teristic sentiment but instead lent the maniera devota greater persuasive
force by embodying, rather than merely representing, humanly affective
feeling in the forms of a pure grace and in the convincing colors of nature
itself.”52 Like the Song of Songs and its use of an exceptionally carnal
language, in the Noli me tangere Correggio evoked a natural style, while
maintaining a beauty and sanctity for which his subjects called, whereby
the beholder, moved by his or her human passions, would be able to rec-
ognize the divine in the physical.53
The tension between the material and the spiritual present in the
Ercolani Noli me tangere was appropriate for the domestic context in
which individual meditation of the image presumably took place. Domes-
tic devotion and its related visual culture brought aspects of the sacred
into the mundane surroundings of the household. Moreover, contact with
religious images in the home was direct, immediate, and often devoid of
the constraints of decorum dictated by ecclesiastical space.54 A narra-
tive that recounts the intimate encounter between Mary Magdalene and
Christ on the morning of the Resurrection reinforces the nearness that
the private contemplation of sacred images can achieve, while Correggio,
through his devout yet naturalistic style, conducts the beholder through
reason and the senses to spiritual things. Vincenzo Ercolani’s experience
with the image may have thus been similar to that of Mary’s presented in
the picture; the painting’s immediate presence combined with its natural-
ism prompts the beholder to contemplate the details, identify with the
52 Dempsey, “The Carracci and the devout style . . .,” 84.

53 Dempsey, “The Carracci and the devout style . . .,” 76. Periti compares the sensual
visual language in Correggio’s Noli me tangere to that of Petrarch, and also argues that the
physical beauty and believability of the represented image invites physical contemplation
that moves to interior meditation, and finally to belief in the divine messages that the
painting encompasses, Periti, “Il Noli me tangere di Correggio . . ., 62–69.
54 On domestic devotional art, see Jacqueline Marie Musacchio, “The Madonna and
Child, a Host of Saints, and Domestic Devotion in Renaissance Florence,” in Revaluing
Renaissance Art, ed. Gabriele Neher and Rupert Shepherd (Aldershot: Ashgate, 2000),
147–64, and Art, Marriage and Family, 190–228; Diana Webb, “Domestic Space and Devo-
tion in the Middle Ages,” in Defining the Holy: Sacred Space in Medieval and Early Modern
Europe, ed. Sarah Hamilton and Andrew Spicer (Aldershot: Ashgate, 2005), 27–48; Donal
Cooper, “Devotion,” in At Home in Renaissance Italy, ed. Ajmar-Wollheim and Dennis,
190–205; and Margaret A. Morse, “Creating Sacred Space: The Religious Visual Culture of
the Casa in Renaissance Venice,” Renaissance Studies 21 (April 2007): 151–84, republished
in Approaching the Italian Renaissance Interior: Sources, Methodologies, Debates, ed. Marta
Ajmar-Wollheim, Flora Dennis, and Ann Matchette (London: Blackwell, 2007), 95–128.
physical nature of the representation as the Magdalene identified with the

corporeality of Christ, and be moved to a recognition of and union with
the divine. Operating in the confines of domestic setting, the work’s sub-
ject and naturalistic style enabled the individual worshipper to associate
himself with the bride who has made contact with her beloved and has
achieved spiritual closeness.
Correggio painted an image that fulfilled the needs of his patron in a
particular place and time. Vincenzo Ercolani sought to amend his fam-
ily’s past, reposition himself in the new political climate in Bologna in
the 1520s, and live a devout life as a disciple of Jesus. The image of Mary
Magdalene as witness to Christ’s Resurrection played a central role in
making manifest his agenda. Through the conscious imitation of Saint
Cecilia’s gown in a painting so closely tied to one of Bologna’s most revered
figures, Vincenzo allied himself not only with Elena Duglioli dall’Olio, but
also with the city’s papal rulers; yet, by transferring the golden wedding
gown of the virginal Cecilia to a saint of quite the opposite character, he
also announced his repentance for his family’s past wrongdoings. More-
over, the golden dress signaled Mary Magdalene, like Cecilia, as the bride
of Christ, and as such the naturalistic rendering of the saint before the
resurrected Lord offered Vincenzo on a more personal level a channel
for meditative contemplation and a means by which to achieve spiritual
closeness with the divine. Mary Magdalene thus functioned as the figure
who bridged the gap between public cult and private devotion.
chapter twelve
Reflections on A GLASS MADELEINE PéNITENTE
Jane Eade
Jane Dillenberger aptly stated that the seventeenth century “might be

called the Magdalene’s century” as Mary Magdalene’s image prolifer-
ated in Western art in both religious and secular settings.1 The renewed
emphasis of the Counter-Reformation church on the Sacrament of Pen-
ance had established Mary Magdalene as a powerful model of repentance.
Simultaneously, humanist theories of love and beauty transformed the
penitent sinner into a ‘Venus’ or ‘Goddess of Divine Love.’2 These mani-
festations of the Magdalene appeared in a variety of painted images in
which the sacred and the sensual shadowed one another to an unprec-
edented degree.3 Frequently depicted as a semi-naked penitent in a grotto
accompanied by a book, skull, and ointment jar, the seventeenth century
witnessed a renewed interest in the legend of her conversion. Particularly
popular in Italy, artists presented the Magdalene within an interior, some-
times accompanied by Martha, and in an attitude of intense contempla-
tion.4 One solution to representing her conversion involved depicting the
saint in the act of discarding her jewels, symbols of the worldly pleasures
she has hitherto enjoyed. This moment is the subject of an unusual paint-
ing of c. 1660–75 (fig. 12.1a) now in the Victoria and Albert Museum (V&A).
This dazzling, jewel-like image is etched and painted on the reverse of a
piece of glass, a technique known as verre églomisé.5 The highly ornate
metal frame, integral to the object, is also decorated using this method.
1 Jane Dillenberger, Image and Spirit in Sacred and Secular Art (New York: Crossroad,
1990), 43.
2 The background to this transmutation is discussed in Susan Haskins, Mary Magdalen:
Myth and Metaphor (London: Harper Collins, 1993), 236.
3 For more on the relationship between the senses and spirituality in this period see
Jane Eade, “The Sacred and the Profane: Sight and Spiritual Vision in the Arts of the
Baroque,” (PhD diss., University of Sussex, 2009).
4 For an example of Caravaggio’s treatment of this subject see Patrick Hunt’s article in
this anthology, “Irony and Realism in Caravaggio’s Penitent Magdalene.”
5 Verre églomisé is so-called after the work of the French decorator Jean-Baptiste Glomy
(1711–86) who framed prints using glass that had been reverse-painted to create a black
ground edged with gold. This is a misnomer, however, as Glomy glass is painted and not
316 jane eade
Fig. 12.1(a). The Penitent Magdalene; verre églomisé or amelierung (etched gold and
silver foils on the back of clear glass) in an ornate metal frame, France, c. 1660–75,
61 × 53.5cms framed. London, Victoria and Albert Museum (V&A 146:1879). Photo:
Victoria and Albert Museum, London.
In the V&A glass, the Magdalene appears in a richly furnished interior in

the midst of the revelation that leads to her conversion. Her image as a
repentant courtesan who washed the feet of Christ with her tears, dried
engraved. A more accurate description of the technique used here is amelierung. At least
sixteen different historical methods of reverse painting on glass have been identified. The
principal study of these various glass techniques is Frieder Ryser, Verzauberte Bilder: Die
Kunst der Malerei hinter Glas von der Antike bis zum 18. Jahrhundert (Munich: Klinkhardt
& Biermann, 1991).
reflections on a glass madeleine pénitente 317
them with her hair, and anointed them with precious oils, is alluded to in
the attributes of an ointment jar and long, unbound hair. A faintly etched
halo, reinforces the identification of the figure as Mary Magdalene. Pre-
cious jewels cover the dressing table in front of her and lie abandoned
upon the floor. Both hands grasp the jar while the Magdalene gazes
up towards the light, her lips slightly parted in a pose characteristic of
ecstasy. The billowing folds of her skirt suggest sudden movement and the
physical ‘turning’ of conversion. Against the brilliant red backdrop hangs
a mirror, lit by the full force of the sun’s divine illumination.
While the iconography of this conversion scene can be compared to
earlier French paintings of this subject, close examination reveals ele-
ments that are unique to this particular representation and contribute to
its complex meaning. The emphasis on the light of the sun and the use
of glass as a material heighten the play on the nature of reflection in the
image, both literally and symbolically. As this essay will demonstrate, light
as the source of spiritual insight and power is conflated in the painting
with references to the reign of the French king Louis XIV in his guise as
‘Le Roi Soleil,’ or Sun King. The courtly fashion for portraying noblewomen
as the Magdalene suggests the glass may have been intended as an alle-
gorical portrait of a contemporary sitter and it is conjectured here that
the painting represents the figure of Louise de la Vallière, the king’s first
mistress. Larger in scale than a jewel, the painting nevertheless requires
the viewer’s close physical proximity to be fully appreciated, an intimacy
that links it to miniature painting. Additionally, once caught before it,
the spectator is made a part of the image by being able to glimpse their
own reflection in the mirror by the Magdalene’s head. Consequently, who
it is that is looking, and their gender, has an impact upon the message of
spiritual choice that the painting embodies.
Iconography and Influences
The subject of the Magdalene’s conversion appears to have evolved as a

prequel to the legend of her retreat to the wilderness, an episode that
may have been known as early as the year 750 and which inspired the
lasting image of her as a penitent in a grotto.6 The tenth-century homilies
of Abbot Odo of Cluny, on which most later accounts of the Magdalene
6 See Haskins, Mary Magdalen, 110–11.

318 jane eade
drew, described her as of good name and family and attributed the cause
of her downfall to a ‘combination of riches and youth.’7 Ruth Mazo Karras
has traced an emphasis in medieval legend on the Magdalene’s high birth,
beauty and wealth, arguing that it made her a more appropriate example
to the social groups who read such texts and enabled her friendship with
Christ to be described in terms of a ‘courtly dalliance.’8 By the thirteenth
century an account of her conversion as a sudden change of heart, in
which she tears off her jewels and finery, had become a popular scene in
Passion plays.9 This image of the Magdalene as a rich noblewoman whose
magnificent lifestyle heightened the drama of her conversion found its
pictorial equivalent in seventeenth-century art.10
The composition and pose of the figure in the V&A glass closely follows
the iconography of two earlier French paintings by Charles Thorin (active
c. 1600–35) (fig. 12.2) and Charles le Brun (1619–90) (fig. 12.3), respectively.
The earliest of the two images, the only known work by Charles Thorin
and dated 1631, hangs in the church of Saint-Etienne-du-Mont in Paris.11
Thorin’s Saint Mary Magdalene depicts the saint in a dressing room or
cabinet with a view beyond an open door to a formal garden. It is a vanitas
scene, the saint surrounded by the symbols of her luxurious life: jewelry,
silverware, music, and playing cards. The Magdalene stands before these
objects gazing up towards the source of the light above her, her right hand
around a perfume jar on the table. With her left hand she gestures behind
her towards a garden. Beyond the garden, appears a group of people in a
small open building. The visual balance created by her hands is suggestive
of a choice being made between two different ways of life. It is evident
from her firm grip on the ointment jar that the Magdalene has decided to
hold fast to her experience of the divine while letting worldly pleasures
slip between her open fingers.
7 Odo of Cluny, In veneratione sanctae Mariae Magdalenae, PL, 132:714, quoted by Ruth
Mazo Karras, “Holy Harlots: Prostitute Saints in Medieval Legend,” Journal of the History of
Sexuality 1/ no. 1 ( July 1990): 18–19.
8 Mazo Karras, “Holy Harlots: Prostitute Saints in Medieval Legend,” 19f.
9 This scene appea in the Passion Play from Benediktbeuern. David Bevington, Medi-
eval Drama (Boston: Houghton Mifflin, 1975), 209.
10 Aside from the French examples discussed here, an intriguing portrait after Rubens
shows the Magdalene in an interior carrying her jewels in the lap of her dress to a carpeted
table on which stand her ointment jar and a bible (Courtauld Institute of Art, Private Col-
lection IV, negative number B69/910).
11 The painting appears in Guillaume Kazerouni and Daniel Imbert, “Peintures français
du XVII des églises de Paris,” Dossier de l’art 149 (2008).
Fig. 12.1(b). Detail of The Penitent Magdalene; verre églomisé or amelierung

(etched gold and silver foils on the back of clear glass) in an ornate metal frame,
France, c. 1660–75, 61 × 53.5 cms framed. London, Victoria and Albert Museum
(V&A 146:1879). Photo: Victoria and Albert Museum, London.
320 jane eade
Like the Thorin image, the V&A glass depicts the figure of the Magdalene
in a similarly rich setting, standing on a blue and white tiled floor to the
right of a covered table, laden with costly silver and jewelry. However,
rather than concealing a humble piece of furniture as one might expect,
the cloth in the glass painting reveals an elaborate gilded foot beneath
the fringe. This unusual detail suggests the emphasis is less on the table
as an item of furniture than on the cloth itself as a thing of luxury and as
a painterly surface on which to render the jewels. Overflowing from the
coffret on the table are gold chains and ropes of pearls, rings, aigrettes for
decorating the hair, scissors for cutting ribbon ties and what appears to
be a hand mirror in an elaborately gilded frame or covered by an embroi-
dered gold case. As in the Thorin painting, the legendary narrative of the
saint’s conversion is indicated by the discarded jewels that lie scattered
across the tiles.
Richly clad in her sumptuous dressing room the figure of the Magdalene
in the V&A glass creates an association with the earthly Venus in her toi-
lette, or Venus Vulgaris, while the vision she is experiencing transforms her
into the heavenly Venus, or Venus Coelestis, symbolic of the love aroused
by contemplation of the divine. The notion of twin Venuses stemmed from
the distinction between two kinds of love, sacred and profane, formulated
by Plato in the Symposium. The Magdalene as a Venus, or Goddess of
Love, is found in visual representations as early as Giotto (1276–1337)12 but
became particularly popular during the revival of Neo-Platonism in the
Renaissance.13 The association of Venus with the Magdalene is reinforced
by the abundance of pearls, which allude both to earthly riches as well as
chastity; a double connotation famously exploited in the previous century
in the costume of Elizabeth I of England.14
12 An early example of a Magdalene-Venus is Mary Magdalene taken to Heaven in a

Shell by Giotto and assistants (c. 1308) in the Lower Church of San Francesco in Assisi.
I owe my knowledge of this image and its relationship to early depictions of Venus to
Robin Griffith-Jones, Mary Magdalene. The Woman Whom Jesus Loved (Norwich: Canter-
bury Press, 2008), 180–81.
13 See footnote 2. Panofsky discusses the Renaissance symbolism of the two Venuses in
his chapter on the ‘Neo-Platonist Movement in Florence’ in relation to Titian’s painting
Sacred and Profane Love, in which the flame held by the heavenly Venus represents the
love of God. Erwin Panofsky, Studies in iconology: humanistic themes in the art of the Renais-
sance (New York: Harper & Row, 1962), 129–69.
14 See E. de Jongh, “Pearls of Virtue, Pearls of Vice,” Simiolus: Netherlands Quarterly for
the History of Art 8, 2 (1975–76): 22. On the pearl as a symbol of chastity in the iconog-
raphy of both the Virgin Mary and Elizabeth I see Helen Hackett, Virgin Mother, Virgin
Queen. Elizabeth I and the cult of the Virgin Mary (Hampshire and London: Macmillan,
1995), 26–27, 36 and 62.
Fig. 12.2. Charles Thorin, Saint Mary Magdalene, 1631, oil on canvas, 145 × 121 cm.
Paris, Church of Saint-Etienne-du-Mont. Photo: COARC/Roger-Viollet.
322 jane eade
While the setting of the V&A glass is comparable to Thorin’s painting, the
actual figure of the Magdalene is clearly modeled on the celebrated Peni-
tent Magdalene by Charles le Brun of 1656 (fig. 12.3) now in the Musée du
Louvre.15 Le Brun’s Magdalene is represented in an interior by a window,
the frame of which has disappeared into the clouds through which the
divine light shines down upon the saint’s weeping face. Mary Magdalene
is shown in a contrapposto stance with her head raised towards the light
and a casket of jewelry lying overturned at her feet; a pose that may have
been inspired by the work of Guido Reni.16 A mirror rests on the table,
the top of its frame just highlighted by the sun. Dressed in an all’ antica
manner the Magdalene is shown with her right arm across her body
pulling dramatically at the cape over her shoulder. This dynamic pose is
repeated in the V&A glass by the twisting movement of the saint’s body.
Like its Thorin and Le Brun predecessors, the V&A glass makes vivid use
of specific colors, including red, blue and gold, the colors of the Bourbon
kings.17
Louis XIV and Louise de la Vallière
While at first glance the painting appears to be a straightforward image

of the penitent Magdalene in a courtly setting, the emphasis on the sun
invites further consideration. The rich royal blue of the Magdalene’s gown
is patterned with crowns of golden laurel wreaths interspersed at intervals
by a face within a sun (fig. 12.1b). The blue and gold of the verre églomise
frame is similarly decorated, the scrollwork cartouches each containing
a gilded face within a sun and framed by the imperial crown of laurel.18
These motifs represent Apollo as a sun god. While the adoption of a sun
15 For further information on this painting see the entry in the catalogue of the exhibi-
tion curated by Marilena Mosco, La Maddalene tra Sacro e Profano (Florence: Arnoldo
Mondadori Editore, 1986), 163.
16 For an example of a composition in which the Magdalene, visited by an angel, has
thrown her jewelry coffret to the floor and rests a foot upon it, see the drawing after Reni
in the Louvre (Inv.8964).
17 The House of Bourbon ruled Navarre (from 1555) and France (from 1589) until 1792.
The arms of France and Navarre united white (the Bourbon color) with red and blue (for
Paris).
18 A sunburst engraved with a now indistinct outline of Apollo’s mask can also be found
on the frame around a painting of the royal palace of Fontainebleau by Jean-Baptiste
Martin (1659–1735) decorated with fourteen emblematic ovals (private collection).
Fig. 12.3. Charles le Brun, The Penitent Magdalene, c. 1656, 252 × 171 cm. Paris,
Musée du Louvre. Photo: Réunion des musées nationaux Agence Photographique.
324 jane eade
emblem by monarchs was not unusual, it was officially appropriated by

Louis XIV of France (1638–1715) in 1661. With the motto ‘Ubique Solus,’ the
device of the sun became the hallmark of his reign.19 In his Memoirs for
the Instruction of the Dauphin, the king recorded his reasons for adopting
the solar emblem:
Chosen as the symbol was the sun, which, according to the rules of this art,
is the noblest of all, and which, by virtue of its uniqueness, by the brilliance
that surrounds it, by the light that it imparts to the other heavenly bodies
that seem to pay it court, by its equal and just distribution of this same light
to all the various parts of the world, by the good that it does everywhere,
constantly producing life, joy, and activity everywhere, by its perpetual yet
always imperceptible movement, by never departing or deviating from its
steady and invariable course, assuredly makes a most vivid and a most beau-
tiful image for a great monarch.20
Dressed and framed by the device of ‘le Roi Soleil,’ or the Sun King, the
figure of the Magdalene assumes a new complexity. In the myth of Apollo
the sun king’s first love was the nymph Daphne. Apollo pursued Daphne
who, unable to escape him, prayed to her father for protection and was
transformed into a laurel bush. In visual representations artists frequently
depicted Apollo in the act of chasing Daphne as she was transfigured
before his eyes. The mythological associations evoked by the motif of
the sun and its relationship to Apollo create a sense of ambiguity when
paired with the Magdalene’s conversion. Like Daphne fleeing Apollo, the
Magdalene is depicted in the act of turning away from what surrounds
her. Yet her costume and setting might be interpreted as functioning like
a coat of arms or badge of allegiance to the king.
That a representation of the penitent Magdalene should be covered
in emblems of the French king raises the possibility that the image was
also intended as a saintly ‘portrait’ of a member of the court. The depic-
tion of women as allegorical or historical figures was a notable feature of
seventeenth-century court portraiture and the Magdalene’s putative aris-
tocratic status and association with both humility and the highly sensual,
19 See especially Peter Burke, The Fabrication of Louis XIV (New Haven: Yale University
Press, 1992).
20 Quoted by Robert Berger, A Royal Passion: Louis XIV as Patron of Architecture
(London: Cambridge University Press, 1994), 21.
made her a popular subject among noblewomen and royal mistresses.21

Moreover, Neo-Platonic doctrines of love and beauty, through which the
Magdalene was associated in her guise as Venus of Divine Love, contin-
ued to have a powerful affect on seventeenth-century attitudes to secular
portraiture.22
At the French court the trend for being depicted á la Madeleine may
have been initiated by Louise Françoise de La Baume Le Blanc de la
Vallière (1644–1710).23 As Daphne was Apollo’s first love, so Louise was
the king’s first mistress and it is likely that the verre églomisé image is
intended to represent her. Although the pose, hair, and features of the
V&A Magdalene are too stylized to be characterized as a portrait, there
are other indications that viewing the Magdalene’s image as a portrait of
Louise makes this a particularly fruitful reading of the image.
The glass was produced between about 1660 and 1675, a period that
exactly corresponds to Louise’s involvement at court. She had a genuine
and particular devotion to Mary Magdalene and a significant number
of portraits of her in this guise have been identified from descriptions,
including one signed by Pierre Mignard (1610–95). In it Louise appeared
as the Magdalene in a grotto, her bust shrouded by her hair.24 Louise’s
unhappiness in her adultery, despite her fervent love for Louis, is well
documented. Arriving at court in 1661 at the age of seventeen, her first
attempt to leave took place just a year later when she fled to the convent
21 These associations, and the particular piety of the Spanish court where she was
raised, make this image unlikely to be associated with Louis’ queen, Marie-Thérèse. For
studies of the iconography and piety of Habsburg royal women see Cordula van Wyhe,
“Court and Convent: the Infanta Isabella and her Franciscan Confessor Andres de Soto,”
Sixteenth Century Journal XXXV, no. 2 (2004), and Magdalena S. Sanchez, The Empress, the
Queen and the Nun: Women and Power at the Court of Philip III of Spain (Baltimore: The
John Hopkins University Press, 1998).
22 See J. Douglas Stewart, “Pin-ups or Virtues? The Concept of the “Beauties” in Late
Stuart Portraiture,” in English Portraits of the Seventeenth and Eighteenth Centuries (Los
Angeles: William Andrews Clark Memorial Library, 1974).
23 Apparently following her example, all of the king’s subsequent mistresses had
themselves represented à la Madeleine as did the four chief mistresses of Charles II. For
examples from the English court see Painted Ladies: Women at the Court of Charles II, ed.,
Catharine MacLeod and Julia Marciari Alexander (New Haven: Yale Center for British Art
in association with the National Portrait Gallery, London, 2001), 102–3 and 118–25.
24 The history of the these images is given in Françoise Bardon, “Le Thème de la Mad-
eleine pénitente au XVIIième siècle en France,” Journal of the Warburg and Courtauld Insti-
tutes 31 (1968): 302, footnote 110. Mignard’s image was last recorded in the late nineteenth
century.
326 jane eade
of Chaillot and was retrieved by the distraught king.25 This episode had
been preceded by the Lenten sermons of the famed orator and theologian
Jacques-Bénigne Bossuet, who implicitly criticized the king by preaching
on the moral laxity of the nation using the subject of the biblical figure of
David and his unlawful pursuance of Bathsheba. By the time of the birth of
their fourth and last child, Louis de Bourbon, in October 1667, Louise had
been usurped as Louis’ mistress by Françoise-Athénaïs de Rochechouart
de Mortemart, marquise de Montespan. In the course of the next eight
years two attempts to leave court failed. Finally, in 1674, the ennobled
Duchess de la Vallière was allowed to retire and to enter the Carmelite
convent in the rue Saint Jacques, taking the name of Sister Louise de la
Miséricorde.26 Bossuet, who had become Louise’s friend and confessor,
preached at her profession.27
The Carmelite convent was, significantly, home to Le Brun’s painting of
the Magdalene, which must have been a familiar sight to Louise from her
previous visits. The painting was later to circulate in Paris in engravings
bearing the title ‘Conversion of Mme. de Vallière.’28 Before finally retir-
ing Louise commissioned Mignard to paint her with her two surviving
children, Marie Anne de Bourbon, Mademoiselle de Blois and Louis de
Bourbon, Comte de Vermandois.29 In the portrait, known today through
a nineteenth-century copy, she holds a single fading rose, symbol of tran-
sience, and at her feet are an open purse and an open casket of jewels.
Among the books on the table is the rule book of Saint Theresa, founder
25 Antonia Fraser, Love and Louis XIV: The Women in the Life of the Sun King (London:
Weidenfeld and Nicholson, 2006), 81–82.
26 She is usually quoted as entering the Covent of the Carmelites in the Rue d’Enfer.
However the Rue St Jacques and the Rue d’Enfer are streets at right-angles to one another,
enclosing one and the same foundation. This is corroborated from contemporary letters
by Madame de Longueville. See Victor Cousin, The youth of Madame de Longueville, or
New revelations of court and convent in the seventeenth century (New York: D. Appleton,
1854), 106.
27 Discours prononcé par Monseigneur Bossuet . . . Evesque de Condom, . . . á la Profession
de Madame de la Valière, (Brussels: 1682), 86–132.
28 The images in the Witt library (Courtauld Institute) are undated and do not name the
engraver or publisher. However the engraver was probably Edelinck Gerard (1649–1707),
whom Le Brun recommended as a teacher to the Academy. Edelinck is recorded in the
nineteenth century as having engraved a painting of the penitent Magdalene ‘trampling on
the Vanities of the World. It is the portrait of Madame de la Valliere; after the picture by Le
Brun, at the Carmelites in Paris.’ See Michael Bryan, Dictionary of Painters and Engravers,
Biographical and Critical (London: H.G. Bohn, 1849), 226.
29 The portrait is known today through a copy of 1865 in the Musée national du
Château et des Trianons, Versailles. It is discussed by Jules Lair, Louise de la Valliere and the
early life of Louis XIV, trans. Ethel Colburn Mayne (London: Hutchinson & Co., 1908), 320.
of the Order of Mount Carmel, while inscribed on a pillar behind her is

the phrase SIC TRANSIT GLORIA MUNDI.
Louise’s difficulty in separating herself from the life of the court and
her genuine dedication to the Magdalene is evident from her writings. In
Reflexions sur la misericorde de Dieu, written from within the convent in
1680 (probably by Bossuet), she wonders how it is possible to offer a pure
sacrifice to God with a spirit “filled with the vanities of the world and a
heart consumed with its passion?”30 In the third meditation she asks to
be looked upon with pity, as “a poor sinner … still inflamed with the fire
of all she covets.” But “above all,” she prays, “look at me without ceasing
as you looked at Mary Magdalene and allow me, like this holy penitent,
to wash your feet with my tears, and in attempting to love you much, try
to erase the multitude of my crimes.”31
These reflections suggest not only the strength of the Duchess’s devo-
tion to the Magdalene, but how protracted and painful the process of con-
version was. They also make clear how much the splendor of life at court
was a temptation. Louise writes of the instability of her desires in the face
of worldly pleasures:32 reflections for which the volatile technique of verre
églomisé makes a fitting counterpart.33 Unlike many other portraits of
noblewomen represented in the guise of the Magdalene, the glass paint-
ing is not an overtly erotic image. It makes a strong appeal to the senses
in order to engage its audience but for the purposes of contemplation
rather than seduction. As a saintly ‘portrait’ the iconography suggests not
30 Louise Françoise de La Baume Le Blanc, Duchess de la Vallière, The Penitent Lady: or

Reflections on the mercy of God, trans. Lewis Atterbury the Younger, Second ed. (London:
Dorman Newman, 1685), 8.
31 ‘Mais sur tout regardez-moi sans cesse comme Magdeleine, & faites que comme cette
sainte penitente, jarose vos pied de vos larmes, & qu’en tâchant de vous aimer beaucoup
j’essaye d’effacer la multitude de mes crimes.’ Louise Françoise de La Baume Le Blanc,
Duchess de la Vallière, Reflexions sur la misericorde de Dieu, augmentees de l’Amante
convertiee, ou l’Eloge d’une illustre penitente. Le tout par une Dame penitente (Paris: 1680),
10–11.
32 ‘Cor vous fçavez, Seigneur ce que je suis, le pen de stabilitie qu’il a dans mes meil-
leurs desires & comment les images du monde de effacent toutes les impressions de
vôtre graces dans mons coeur,’ La Baume Le Blanc, Reflexions sur la misericorde de Dieu,
augmentees de l’Amante convertiee, ou l’Eloge d’une illustre penitente. Le tout par une Dame
penitente, 38–39.
33 Unlike stained glass where translucent paints are fused to the glass in firing, the
lacquers in reverse painted images are bonded to the glass by an adhesive making them
inherently unstable.
328 jane eade
irreverent teasing but a powerful image of struggle and of the complexi-

ties of love and choice.
Materials and Meaning
The small scale of the painting (61 × 53.5 cm in its frame) indicates that it
was intended for private use and was probably meant to hang in a cabi-
net or closet similar to the one depicted. It is the size of a toilette mir-
ror and the viewer is encouraged to approach it with the same degree of
intimacy. The play on the reflective qualities of glass, combined with the
visual appeal of precious stones, make it easy to see why reverse painted
glass was popular for small devotional objects, such as domestic altars,
crucifixes, and jewelry. Areas of the paint in the V&A glass were backed
by a layer of metal foil to enhance the brilliancy of the gilded glass. The
picture was probably hung close to candlelight for the luxurious effect
of the materials and the play on light to be fully appreciated.34 While
it clearly served a devotional function, the mirror was also an exotic
cabinet piece.
Glass was highly prized in the late seventeenth century and it was
the French court that led the fashion for mirrors and other fittings with
highly reflective surfaces, such as silver and lacquer. The picture was
produced during a period of peak experimentation in France with mir-
rored glass when new technological feats were made possible by the
arrival of Italian glassblowers in Paris.35 The extent of French achieve-
ments in glass production can be gauged by the famous Galerie de Glace
at Versailles, which was unveiled in 1682. While mirrors from the late
seventeenth century often had verre églomisé decoration on the frame,
the V&A Magdalene is unusually elaborate.36 A different hand can be
discerned in the etching of the four cartouches of the frame, though the
34 The metal might be tin, silver, brass or aluminum and may have been deliberately
wrinkled, rather than laid flat, to enhance the effect. For reasons of conservation it was not
possible to remove this painting from its frame and examine the reverse.
35 Sabine Melchior-Bonnet, The Mirror, A History, trans. Katherine H. Jewett (London:
Routledge, 1994), 46–47.
36 For example a French mirror of c. 1700–10 in the style of Jéan Berain (1638–1711), from
1674 the dessinateur de la chambre et du cabinet du Roi to Louis XIV, has a verre églomisé
border with a cartouche at the top not dissimilar in shape to the four around the V&A
glass. Paris: Musee les Arts Decoratifs.
design corresponds to the rest of the image and the ‘suns in splendor’
echo those on the Magdalene’s dress. While the design of the frame is
similar to examples of metalwork from Augsburg, the painting technique
of the central image suggests Swiss work.37 Nothing is known about the
circumstances of the production of the V&A glass, but references to the
Sun King and to the paintings of Thorin and Le Brun, suggest that the
painting and the frame were probably manufactured in Paris by migrant
craftsmen in a workshop outside the court.38
The Magdalene is pictured in a contemporary setting amidst objects,
with the exception of the clock, that are likely to have been copied from
life. The presence of contemporary objects, while providing a painterly
opportunity to depict an item of value, might also serve an important
symbolic function. A devotional image in which the setting or furnish-
ings is known to the viewer lends it a particularly personal appeal.39 This
conjoining of past and present creates what Luke Syson has referred to
in a related context as “a temporal no-man’s land,” enabling the onlooker
to identify more closely with the historic figure portrayed.40 In this way
certain articles might engage all the senses by appealing not only to the
eye, but also to the tactile knowledge of the beholder.
The objects represented in the Magdalene image certainly allude
to the wealth and sophistication of the French court. The importance
of silver objects can be gauged by extant pieces of comparable design.
The shell-shaped ewer and jug on the washstand, probably dating from
c. 1650, are similar to a set that once belonged to Henrietta Maria, while
the blue-colored jug on the dressing table may represent a semi-precious
37 The Magdalene’s flesh was probably painted on to parchment and stuck to the glass;
a technique peculiar to Swiss work, particularly from Zurich. I am indebted to Frances
Federer for pointing this out to me. The markedly auricular style of the washstand also
suggests regions more susceptible to German influence than France. It may be that the
ongoing religious conflicts between the Protestant and the Catholic cantons of the Swiss
confederation (which led to the first Battle of Villmergen in 1656) resulted in the departure
of some craftsmen for Paris, trade with France having been high since the end of the Thirty
Years War in 1648. See Martin Körner, “2–Gleichgewichtsbestrebungen,” in Historiches
Lexikon der Schweiz (www.hls.dhs-dss: Swiss Academy of Humanities and Social Sciences
and the Swiss Historical Society 1998–2009, accessed 12/12/08).
38 I have been unable to find any documented engravers or painters of glass at the royal
Gobelin workshops.
39 For more on the relationship between Mary Magdalene and domestic furnishings
see Annette LeZotte’s article in this anthology, “Mary Magdalene and the Iconography of
Domesticity.”
40 Syson’s discussion focuses on images of the Virgin Mary within a domestic inte-
rior. See Luke Syson, “Representing Domestic Interiors,” in At Home in Renaissance Italy:
Art and Life in the Italian House 1400–1600, ed. Marta Ajmar-Wollheim and Flora Dennis
(London: V&A Publications, 2006), 88.
330 jane eade
stone such as lapis mounted with silver-gilt, of which Louis XIV had a large
number in his collection.41 The Magdalene’s ointment jar, a flagon with an
ornamental ribbon, is both a piece of silver with which the patron/viewer
might have been familiar and a key iconographic emblem. It alludes to
the Magdalene’s anointing of Christ; both to the sensuality of the scented
and costly oil and to the humility of her action. The lifted lid suggests
the releasing of perfume and conversely the jar as a receptacle of divine
influence.42 This symbol may have been especially significant for Louise
de la Vallière with respect to her longstanding association with the Car-
melites. In the devotional manual Vita Jesu Christi by Ludolphus of Sax-
ony (d.1377), which was at one time prescribed reading in every Carmelite
house, the ointment jar is described as representing “the hidden retreat of
[Mary’s] breast and heart full of faith and charity.”43
Like the silver, the fabric in the painting may also replicate actual
textiles. For example, the fringe border on the tablecloth and wall hang-
ing, along with the embroidered bands on the former, appear in engrav-
ings of Parisian interiors by Abraham Bosse.44 As in the painting of the
Magdalene’s conversion by Thorin, the creases in the tablecloth have been
carefully rendered suggesting that the artist is painting what was before
him. Unlike the Thorin image, however, the cloth is green and not red.
The use of green lacquer is at odds with the rest of the color scheme and
may have been intended as a symbolic counterpoint to the display of jew-
els through its association with hope and re-birth.45
41 The pieces that belonged to Henrietta Maria are among the most important pieces
of French silver made in the seventeenth century. Presented to Tsar Alexei by Charles II in
1663, they are now in the Kremlin museum. See Michèle Bimbenet-Privat, Les Orfèvres et
L’orfèvrerie de Paris au XVII Siècle (Paris: Commission des Travaux Historiques de la Ville
de Paris, 2002), 183ff and plate 51a and b.
42 Haskins identifies this imagery as common to sixteenth-century Northern European
paintings of the Magdalene. See Haskins, Mary Magdalen, 218.
43 Cited by Franco Mormando, “Teaching the Faithful to Fly: Mary Magdalene and
Peter in Baroque Italy,” in Saints & Sinners: Caravaggio & the Baroque image, ed. Franco
Mormando (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1999), 112.
44 For example the series Marriage á la ville (London: British Museum), illustrated
in Peter Thornton, Seventeenth-century interior decoration in England, France and Hol-
land (New Haven: Yale University Press for the Paul Mellon Centre for Studies in British
Art. 1978), 11. While Bosse’s prints should not be relied upon as historically accurate rep-
resentations of room settings, there is no reason to doubt that the furniture depicted is
what was usual for the period.
45 For another example of the use of green in relation to Mary Magdalene see
Valerie Lind Hedquist, “The Real Presence of Christ and the Penitent Mary Magdalen in the
‘Allegory of Faith’ by Johannes Vermeer,” Art History 23, 3 (2000): 338 and f/n. 31.
The deep red curtain that dominates the background of the painting
is both a sumptuous wall covering and a surface that carries important
references. Its liquid brilliance, which shimmers like running water as
the viewer moves before it, has been created by the foil placed behind
the lacquered areas of glass. A single repeating pattern and long drop or
‘rapport’ indicates a heavy woven fabric, probably brocatelle (sometimes
called brocadillo), which was a mixture of silk and linen that was specially
designed for opulent hangings.46 The pattern features a crown at the top
of its repeat, visible above the Magdalene’s halo.47 Apparently a generic
symbol of royalty in this instance, it may be intended to represent a single
layer of the three-tiered papal tiara or triregnum, which it resembles and
which is occasionally seen in imagery of Louis XIV.48 Referring to both
royal, temporal rule as well as the kingship of Christ, the presence of the
crown in this image, almost as a second nimbus, heightens the interplay
between the sacred and the secular.
The depiction of the clock is particularly intriguing. Standing alone on
the right hand side of the composition it draws the viewer’s eye across the
painting and balances the cluttered left-hand side of the picture. Clocks
and hourglasses were common signifiers of mortality and the transience
of worldly pleasures in northern European portraits and allegories of
vanity. However, they rarely accompany saintly figures.49 The substitu-
tion of a clock for a skull, the usual signifier of the passage of time in
Catholic devotional imagery, and the departure from the compositions
46 For examples of brocatelle from this period see European Textiles in the Keir Collec-
tion 400 BC to 1800 AD, ed. Monique and Donald King (London: Faber and Faber, 1990).
47 The crown does not appear to belong to any of the French royal family. For compara-
tive illustrations see Michel Félibien, Histoire de l’Abbaye Royale de Saint Denys en France,
contenant la vie des Abbes qui l’ont gouverne e depuis onze cens ans: les hommes illustres
qu’elle a donnez a l’Eglise et a l’Etat: les Privileges . . . Avec la description de l’Eglise et de tout
ce qu’elle contient de remarquable, etc. (Paris: 1706).
48 For example in a drawing of the king receiving the Siamese ambassadors at Versailles
in 1686, where the papal tiara forms the base of the oval frame within which Louis sits
enthroned. British Library (10167, shelfmark Add.22494, folio 2).
49 Featuring painted decoration and a shaped dial-plate, the face of the clock depicted
in this painting is more in the tradition of German rather than French timepieces of the
late seventeenth century. See for example a Black Forest wall clock of the seventeenth cen-
tury whose top piece is shaped exactly like that in the Magdalene glass. E.J. Tyler, European
Clocks (London: Ward Lock & Company Limited, 1968), 119.
332 jane eade
of Thorin and Le Brun, suggests that it was the deliberate choice of the
work’s patron and/or its makers.
The clock’s pedestal stand is similar to contemporary examples of Boulle
work, while the bracket case can be compared to the so-called ‘pendule
religieuse’ of Louis XIV’s reign.50 While these aspects may have been cop-
ied from actual items, the face of the clock, having only eight hours, was
not. This is unlikely to be a mistake and suggests that the clock’s inclu-
sion was primarily symbolic. Not only a vanitas emblem, the clock face
may reflect an interest in medieval number symbolism. In this tradition
the number eight (the number of hours) was associated with Christian
resurrection and salvation and in Dante represented the eighth heaven
which was ‘the culminating vision of the Church Triumphant’ and a place
of eternal bliss.’51 The number two (the apparent time on the dial) was
associated with hope and the process of change: all fitting referents in an
image about conversion.52
Like the clock, the Magdalene’s richly patterned costume all’ antica is
a concoction of elements both contemporary and imagined. Elements of
fashionable dress were often included in saintly portraits and the volu-
minous, paned sleeves were typical of women’s dress in the first half of
the century as well as being a motif common to depictions of antique
costume. The loose tunic and sandals, however, are imaginary. Intended
as classical allusions they are a feature of many portraits of women por-
trayed as allegorical or historical figures in this period. Similarly the use
of striped fabrics suggests an historical and symbolic reference to humility
rather than contemporary fashion.
The depiction of the Magdalene in striped garments may derive from
Titian’s second version of his famous Saint Mary Magdalene, executed
c. 1565, in which the painter moderated the eroticism of the his original
50 Boulle is the term given to a generic type of marquetry associated with André Charles
Boulle (1642–1732), principal cabinet-maker to Louis XIV. It came to designate a special
technique for the decoration of furniture and clocks using veneers of ebony, tortoiseshell
and brass. See Peter Hughes and Paul Tear, Sources & Techniques of Boulle Marquetry
(London: Wallace Collection, 1996). For comparable clocks see Tardy, La Pendule Française
dans le Monde, 5th ed., III vols., vol. I, Des Origines à la transition Louis XV–Louis XVI (Paris:
Tardy, 1981), 130f.
51 For example the baptismal font is octagonal because ‘8 is the number of salvation’,
just as in the Old Testament ‘the temple is sanctified in 8 days’ (p. 114 and 18). Vincent
Foster Hopper, Medieval Number Symbolism: Its Sources, Meaning, and Influences on
Thought and Expression (New York: Cooper Square Publishers, 1969), 25.
52 Hopper, Medieval Number Symbolism: Its Sources, Meaning, and Influences on Thought
and Expression, 159.
version by portraying the saint in a white chemise and striped cloak.53

Rona Goffen has suggested that the cloak was intended to symbolize
Joseph’s coat of many colors, the popular term for the ‘long robe with
sleeves’ or ‘long coat of stripes’ as it is variously translated (Genesis 37).54
It may also relate to the cloak apparently worn by the prophet Elijah, as a
result of which legend the Carmelite habit was originally striped.55 In the
context of the Magdalene’s conversion the stripes may also be intended to
carry a reference to her mistaken identity as a courtesan, as striped cloth-
ing was associated in sumptuary laws with prostitution.56 The reference
to the humility of the stripe is lent an ambiguity in the glass painting by
the richness of the fabric and the fact that it is edged with precious jewels
and pearls. Like her robe, with its device of the Sun King, the Magdalene’s
jeweled, striped underskirt can be read as a paradox.
Mirrors, Sacred and Profane
The ability of the figure of Mary Magdalene to gesture in two directions

simultaneously—to both worldly living and spiritual contemplation—is
constellated in the representation of mirrors in the painting. Exception-
ally in an image of the Magdalene’s conversion (indeed in any vanitas
image) there are two mirrors: a clear unbroken one placed by the saint’s
head. This mirror absorbs the full force of the sun’s rays and represents
self-knowledge and wisdom; and a cracked glass, lying on the floor amid
the discarded jewels where it becomes a symbol of the perils of vanity and
self-deception. The presence of two mirrors with different symbolic func-
tions—in an object itself made of glass—forces the viewer to re-examine
tensions in the notion of reflection.
Seventeenth-century iconography used the mirror as a symbol of both
pride and vanity and of the cardinal virtue of Prudence. In a popular
53 The clothing is obviously related to the increasing strictures of the Counter-

Reformation. This second painting is now in the Hermitage Museum, St Petersburg.
54 Rona Goffen, Titian’s Women (New Haven: Yale University Press, 1997), 187.
55 The ‘barred cloak’ of the Carmelites was abandoned in 1287, on the Feast of the
Magdalene, and in 1295 Pope Boniface VIII issued a bull confirming a ban against stripes
for all religious orders. Michel Pastoureau, The Devil’s Cloth: A History of Stripes and Striped
Fabric, trans. Jody Gladding (New York: Columbia University Press, 2001), 8.
56 Stripes were associated not only with prostitutes but with all those on the margins
of the social order, including serfs, the condemned, jugglers, clowns, Jews, hangmen,
lepers and cripples. See Michel Pastoureau, The Devil’s Cloth: A History of Stripes and
Striped Fabric, 13.
334 jane eade
sourcebook for painters, the Iconologia (1593) by Cesare Ripa, it is stated

that “a mirror can either reflect a false or deceptive image, or, metaphori-
cally, can help to know oneself, as one can only achieve this by seeing
one’s own faults.”57 In images of the Magdalene’s conversion that depict
a mirror, such as the painting by Le Brun, these opposing symbolic asso-
ciations are usually carried by the same object. In the V&A painting, by
contrast, they are rendered separately. These patches of clear glass are
positioned so as to enhance their antithetical nature. The ‘divine’ mirror
is placed between the sun’s rays and the Magdalene’s head, locating its
sphere of influence within the mind or soul’s apprehension of God, whilst
the damaged vanitas mirror lies on the earth at the saint’s feet, firmly
rooted in the material world.
The two mirrors apparently correspond to those discussed by Dante
in his Divine Comedy (c. 1307–21) in which he distinguishes between an
‘inferior’ mirror that obeys the natural law of reflection, and a ‘superior’
mirror that receives direct illumination from God.58 The superior mirror
was the speculum sine macula, the ‘spotless’ mirror that came to symbol-
ize the purity of the Virgin Mary. In the V&A image of the Magdalene this
mirror has been deliberately enhanced to highlight its revelatory poten-
tial. It appears to sit slightly proud of the surface and to have a beveled
edge, though this may be due to the placement of foil behind the glass.59
However, a note of ambiguity is introduced into its robust clarity by the
source of the sun itself, whose rays have been etched to appear on the
spectator’s side of the painted backdrop.
The picture is also potentially compromised by the beholder, who
in catching a fleeting glimpse of him or herself in the ‘superior’ mirror
becomes an integral part of the picture. The combination of real and pic-
torial space suggested by the viewer’s own reflection is a characteristic
Baroque conceit, making the spectator part of the object’s message of spir-
itual illumination. Combined with the allusions to the Sun King it creates
a tension that has interesting implications with regard to the intended
viewer and the message of spiritual choice that the painting embodies.
57 Cesare Ripa, Iconologia, overo descrittione d’imagini delle virtù (Padua: 1611, facsimile
1976), 101, 441–42, 510.
58 Anna Torti, The Glass of Form (New York: Brewer, 1991), 27.
59 Expert opinion differs. The mirror may be of one piece with the glass, or a second,
silvered piece of glass behind the image. It has not been possible to remove the frame to
ascertain which.
The Viewer
It is significant that the sun is placed outside the room on the ‘side’ of the
beholder, encouraging him or her to identify with its source. The crude
nature of this area, which is likely an original feature, is not in keeping with
the rest of the image.60 The play on the ephemeral reflection of the onlooker
hints at their ability to reflect as well as receive the divine rays. In represent-
ing the twin aspects of sacred and profane love the Venus/Magdalene figure
potentially lends a further reference—of a miroir ardent—to the unblem-
ished glass. The play on the gaze of a lover as a ‘burning ray’ was a common
theme in medieval courtly literature.61 The idea that the eye itself emitted
rays in the process of vision, despite being decisively refuted by the discov-
eries of Johannes Kepler, survived well into the seventeenth century. Addi-
tionally, the conceit of the burning mirror often appeared in Parisian prints
of women at their toilette, where female gazes might “strike and wound
their recipient’s heart like Cupid’s darts.”62
Intended for a man, the invitation to identify with the power of the
sun ‘outside’ the frame would suggest, ultimately, Louis XIV himself. The
‘noble’ sun streaming across the glass would function as a personification
of his own body: a “most vivid and a most beautiful image for a great mon-
arch.” The king whose emblem was the sun would be reminded of what
he believed to be his symbiotic relationship to God.63 However the image
can only retain the tension of conflated and conflicting desires, to which
the representation of the Magdalene alludes, when viewed by someone
who identifies with her change of heart.
60 The technique of verre églomisé requires the gilding to be completed first and the
glass has not been painted from the front.
61 For example in the Roman de la Rose where the God of Love fires arrows through
the eyes and into the heart of the lover/narrator. Guillaume de Lorris, and Jean de Meun,
Le Roman de la Rose, trans. Frances Horgan (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1999), 36,
lines 2322–47.
62 Elise Goodman-Soellner, “Nicolas Lancret’s Le miroir ardent: an emblematic image of
love,” Simiolus: Netherlands Quarterly for the History of Art 13, no. 3 (1983): 222.
63 For the ‘divine right of kings’ in relation to the political absolutism of the French
court see David J. Sturdy, “Louis XIV,” in European History in Perspective, ed. Jeremy Black
(Basingstoke and London: Macmillan, 1998), 10. Nothing matching a description of this
glass appears in Guiffrey’s inventory of the king’s possessions. See Jules Guiffrey, Inventaire
général du mobilier de la couronne sous Louis XIV (1663–1715) publié pour la premiére
fois sous les auspices de la Société d’encouragment pour la propagation des lives d’art,
ed. J. Rouam (Paris: Librarie de l’art, 1885–86). Guiffrey reproduces most but not all of
the information in the Archives Nationale, 0/1/3330–33 so the possibility of this object yet
appearing cannot definitely be excluded.
336 jane eade
A consequence of reading the image as a saintly portrait of a royal

mistress is the suggestion that the sitter’s true vocation was to be found
at court, to be a ‘mirror’ to the king. The possibility of this interpreta-
tion is what gives this image of the conversion of the Magdalene its par-
ticular force. The nature of the ‘divine’ sun is only equivocal when the
painting is viewed in the context of Louis XIV’s court. That this might
represent a genuine transition from palace to cloister (experienced by
many mistresses) only heightens the sense of momentum. Indeed it is
not impossible that this glass painting made its own transition from pri-
vate oratory or dressing room to a convent cell as the division between
these spaces for aristocratic women may have been less sharp than we
might suppose.64 The sun’s power is enhanced in the image by curious
striations in the gilding, and by the faintness of the design on the wall
hangings immediately around it. The effect suggests rays so strong that
they eclipse all detail of what is directly before them, a physical allusion
that also works as a symbol of God’s love in obliterating the luxuria of
the Magdalene’s previous life. Read as an image of choice and struggle
the position of the sun, outside the room on the ‘side’ of the beholder,
indicates the otherworldliness of heavenly source: the transcendence as
well as imminence of God.
The glittering surface of this Penitent Magdalene reminds us that sight
is a physical relationship while at the same time uses this as a metaphor
for another kind of seeing. This play on sight is particularly apt for a figure
like the Magdalene for whom, as Barbara Baert has shown in her discus-
sion of the Noli me tangere theme, it is set against the physical caress of
her hands and hair. In no longer being able to hold the risen Christ the
Magdalene has only her eyes with which to love; a trope that integrated
her easily into the ‘bridal mysticism’ of convent life.65 While the diamond-
like brilliance of this glass Magdalene must have been intended in part for
the sheer delight of the viewer, the play on vision—as optical sight and as
64 Alain Mérot, in his discussion of the imagery of conversion in the V&A glass, notes
that convent life may have been less materially restrictive than we might assume. Alain
Mérot, Retraites mondaines—Aspects de la décoration intérieure à Paris, au XVIIe siècle
(Paris: Le Promneur, 1990), 114.
65 Barbara Baert, Maria Magdalena: Zondares van de Middeleeuwen tot vandaag (Ghent:
Museum voor Schone Kunsten, 2002), 77.
an interior, spiritual insight—is also intended to engage the onlooker in a

meditation on the nature of choice.
The iconography of conversion is complicated by the references to the
court of Louis XIV, which infuse this image with suggestions of a particu-
lar contemporary struggle. The material of glass lends the iconography of
the Magdalene’s representation a lasting dynamism. The jewel-like glitter
draws in the spectator, who in being able to catch a glimpse of herself in
the ‘divine’ mirror, is made a part of the image. This play on reflection and
the fusing of the real and the symbolic in the representation of the objects
unites the painting and the viewer in a single coextensive and timeless
space. It creates ‘the illusion that the image is as real as its beholder’ and
that the event referred to in the painting has both immediate and eternal
significance.66 The glass reads most powerfully, and retains its peculiar
symbolic tension, when viewed as referencing a contemporary strug-
gle between court and convent. As an allegorical portrait of Louise de
la Vallière, torn by conflicting desires, it would have acted as a constant
reminder of the active, on-going nature of her spiritual torment; what she
described in her Reflections as “a country of war and misery . . . wherein my
soul is made the theater of all kinds of passions.”67
66 Robert S. Huddleston, “Baroque Space and the Art of the Infinite,” in The Theatrical
Baroque, ed. Larry F. Norman (Chicago: The David and Alfred Smart Museum of Art in
association with the University of Chicago, 2001), 14–15.
67 ‘Voila, Seigneur, tout ce qui me r’assure au milieu d’un pais de guerre & de misere, &
oú mon ame est le theatre de toutes sortes de passions.’ La Baume Le Blanc, Reflexions sur
la misericorde de Dieu, augmentees de l’Amante convertiee, ou l’Eloge d’une illustre penitente.
Le tout par une Dame penitente, 40.
Part five
Fusion and Flexibility: the Magdalene’s Role Transformed

Chapter thirteen
Exorcism in the Iconography of Mary MagdalenE
Andrea Begel
Now after he rose early on the first day of the week, he

appeared first to Mary Magdalene, from whom he had
cast out seven demons.
– Mark 16:9
While literature on Magdalene imagery in the late Middle Ages and
Renaissance has acknowledged her dual role as sinner and saint, often
overlooked is her place as the only major figure from whom demons were
exorcised in the Bible. This essay explores the connection between the
legend of Mary Magdalene and her exorcism through an analysis of Gio-
vanni da Milano’s scene of the Anointing (c. 1363–65) from the Guidalotti-
Rinuccini Chapel in the Franciscan church of Santa Croce, Florence
(fig. 13.1). The episode, which is also referred to as Jesus in the House
of Simon the Pharisee, depicts the popular legend of Mary Magdalene’s
repentance, a central theme in Italian cycles of her life.1 However, the
artist’s inclusion of seven demons being cast from the saint is unique in
the iconography of the Magdalene (fig. 13.1a). While scholars have inter-
preted the presence of these demons in the scene primarily as an attribute
of the Magdalene according to the gospel text, this essay argues that the
fresco more accurately depicts the exorcism of the Magdalene occurring
as a result of Christ’s forgiveness. When the fresco is analyzed from the
perspective of exorcism imagery, it becomes clear that the artist not only
depicted a common narrative from the life of Mary Magdalene, but also
elaborated on an aspect of her iconography that was absent from textual
sources, the specific moment that she is cleansed of the seven demons.
At the same time, the representation of exorcism underscores the crucial
theme of penance in the chapel as discussed by Michelle Erhardt in her
essay in this volume.2
1 Luke 7:37–39, The New Oxford Annotated Bible, New Revised Standard Version, ed.
Bruce M. Metzger and Roland E. Murphy (New York: Oxford University Press, 1994).
2 See Michelle Erhardt’s essay in this volume, “The Magdalene as Mirror: Trecento Fran-
ciscan Imagery in the Guidalotti-Rinuccini Chapel, Florence.”
342 andrea begel
Fig. 13.1. Giovanni da Milano, Anointing from the Life of Mary Magdalene, c. 1363–
69. Guidalotti-Rinuccini Chapel, Santa Croce, Florence. Photo: Art Resource,
New York.
Finally, this essay examines the important, yet rarely acknowledged, role
of exorcism in the early cult of Saint Francis, which made this subject par-
ticularly appropriate to the context of Giovanni da Milano’s fresco cycle
in the Franciscan church of Santa Croce. Representations of the theme
of exorcism underscored the Franciscan concept of Saint Francis as alter
christus through an emphasis on the mutual roles of Christ and Saint
Francis as powerful exorcists. As the images of Saint Francis and Mary
Magdalene were frequently paired in Italian art, the presence of exorcism
in this image serves as yet another link between their cults.
Exorcism and Demonic Possession in the Middle Ages
Defining the role of exorcism in medieval and Renaissance society is prob-

lematic, since it was not officially codified until 1614 and there is a lack
of documentation on the subject of ritual exorcism in the thirteenth and
exorcism in the iconography of mary magdalene 343
Fig. 13.1a. Detail of demons from Giovanni da Milano, Anointing from the Life of
Mary Magdalene, c. 1363–69. Guidalotti-Rinuccini Chapel, Santa Croce, Florence.
Photo: Art Resource, New York.
fourteenth centuries.3 It is impossible even to identify a single, consistent

exorcism ritual from this time period. Exorcism occupied many different
3 Lynn Thorndike, A History of Magic and Experimental Science (New York: Columbia
University, 1941), 556. Exorcism literature is more commonly found from the last quarter
of the sixteenth century and the first part of the seventeenth century.
344 andrea begel
spaces in late medieval and Renaissance culture, existing somewhere

between doctrine and magic, ritual and theater.
The basic structure of the Christian exorcism ritual remains substan-
tially unchanged to this day. The victim of demonic possession stands in
front of the exorcist, often with their hands bound. The priest makes the
sign of the cross over the demoniac and sprinkles them with holy water.
He asks God for forgiveness and mercy, that he might “set free this Thy
servant who is fast bound by the chain of his sins.”4 In the main part of the
ritual, the evil spirit is conjured and commanded to leave the possessed.5
The exorcist again makes the sign of the cross over himself and the forehead,
mouth, and breast of the demoniac. Selected passages from the Gospels
relating to Christ’s healing of demoniacs are read. Three more exorcisms
follow, alternating with prayers.
Early artistic representations of exorcism rituals typically included only
the exorcist, the demoniac, the demon, and a few witnesses to the event.
Early Christian images of Jesus as an exorcist illustrated the power and
reality of Christianity. According to D.P. Walker, “the exorcisms performed
by Christ and the Apostles and disciples were intended, together with
other miracles, to establish a new religion; and exorcisms were used in
the first few centuries of the Church’s life as a weapon against the pagan
gods, who regularly appear as possessing devils.”6 Despite the popularity
of images of Christ exorcising demons in Early Christian art, they did not
persist after this period.7 None of the famous or influential medieval and
Renaissance cycles of Christ’s life, such as Giotto di Bondone’s frescoes in
the Scrovegni Chapel in Padua, include scenes of exorcism.
4 Montague Summers, The History of Witchcraft and Demonology (New York: University
Books, 1956), 212. The chain, or rope, shown in some images binding the possessed may
represent a symbolic evocation of the demoniac’s entrapment by the devil.
5 “I command thee, whosoever thou art, thou unclean spirit, and all thy companions
possessing this servant of God, that by the Mysteries of the Incarnation, Passion, Resurrec-
tion, and Ascension of our Lord Jesus Christ, by the sending of the Holy Ghost, and by the
coming of the same our Lord to judgment, thou tell me thy name, the day, and the hour of
thy going out, by some sign: and, that to me, a minister of God, although unworthy, thou
be wholly obedient in all things: nor hurt this creature of God, or those that stand by, or
their goods in any way.” Summers, History of Witchcraft, 212–13.
6 D.P. Walker, Unclean Spirits: Possession and Exorcism in France and England in the
late Sixteenth and early Seventeenth Centuries (Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania
Press, 1981), 4.
7 There is one exception to the complete absence of imagery of Christ exorcising
demons, a small plaquette, with several versions in silver, bronze and enamel that show
Christ healing a possessed woman. See Isabelle Hyman, “Examining a Fifteenth-Century
‘Tribute’ to Florence,” in Art, the Ape of Nature: Studies in Honor of H.W. Janson, ed. Moshe
Barasch and Lucy Freeman Sandler (New York: H.N. Abrams, 1981), 105–26.
While nearly absent in medieval representations of Christ’s life, images

of exorcism appeared more frequently in cycles depicting the lives of the
saints. This shift took place in the context of the rise in the cult of the
saints throughout the thirteenth and fourteenth centuries, as exemplified
by the cult of Saint Francis. Encouraged to view Christ on a more human
level by texts such as the Meditationes vitae Christi, perhaps viewers had
less interest in images of Christ as a miracle worker.8 Additionally, a newly
expanded life cycle of Christ, including extremely popular apocrypha
which detailed the life of the Virgin, may have replaced miracle scenes
in the schemas of painters who had a limited number of spaces to work
with in their panel paintings or fresco cycles. The growing cult of saints
provided subjects whose new holy status needed bolstering through the
performance of miracles. Keeping in mind the ever present goal of hagi-
ography to reflect the life of Christ, it is not surprising that many saint’s
lives would emphasize miracles of exorcism just as the Bible does in the
ministry of Christ.9 In the hagiography of Saint Francis, exorcisms often
took place at his tomb as posthumous miracles. The miracle working pow-
ers of relics were part of the foundation of the saint’s cults, which served
to ensure a saint’s power and popularity long after their death.10
A “Terrible Frenzy”: Women Possessed11
Exploring the topic of exorcism requires some consideration of how the

public and religious authorities viewed the possessed. The Bible defines
8 Iohannes de Caulibus, Meditaciones vite Christi. curante CETEDOC Universita Cathol-

ica Lovaniensis Lovanii Novi. Instrumenta lexicologica Latina. Series A (Turnhout: Brepols,
2000).
9 Cynthia Hahn, “Picturing the Text: Narrative in the Life of the Saints,” Art History 13,
no. 1 (March 1990): 6.
10 For the role of posthumous miracles in hagiography see Peter Brown, The Cult of
Saints: Its Rise and Function in Latin Christianity (Chicago: University of Chicago Press,
1981), 107. “To the late-Roman man the drama of exorcism was the one demonstration of
the power of God that carried unanswerable authority. In the healing of the possessed,
the praesentia of the saint was held to be registered with unfailing accuracy, and their
ideal manner, their potentia, shown most fully and in the most reassuring manner. For the
solemn and dramatic course of possession and exorcism formed an exact fit with expecta-
tions of the exercise of ‘clean’ power which, as we have seen, clustered around the tombs
of the saints.”
11 Thomas of Celano, Saint Francis of Assisi: First and Second life of Saint Francis with
Selections from the treatise on the miracles of the blessed Francis (Chicago: Franciscan
Herald Press, 1988), 122.
346 andrea begel
the body that is ready for possession by demons as an empty house, devoid
of the spirit of God.
When the unclean spirit has gone out of a person, it wanders through water-
less regions looking for a resting place, but it finds none. Then it says ‘I will
return to my house from which I came.’ When it comes, it finds it empty,
swept, and put in order. Then it goes and brings along seven other spirits
more evil than itself, and they enter and live there; and the last state of that
person is worse than the first.12
This passage suggests that people invited possessing demons through sin.
As early literature on the Mary Magdalene makes clear, it was commonly
believed that her sinful early life contributed to her possession by seven
demons. It is noteworthy in a consideration of the representation of the
Magdalene’s exorcism that there is a substantial concentration on women
as the victims of demonic possession in Italian images and culture. What
made women particularly vulnerable to demonic possession, and how did
the Magdalene function as both a typical and a unique case in the context
of exorcism iconography?
Texts of the period consistently suggest a close connection between
women and suspicious magic and witchcraft. Because of their role as the
caretakers of the family and their function as midwives, women were
often accused of dabbling in magical healing practices. These activities
were believed to lead to demonic possession.13 In addition to a general
weakness of character and morals, women were thought to have specific
physical and mental problems that made them vulnerable to demonic
attack. For example, women were especially predisposed to melancholy,
an imbalance of humors that could lead to possession by a demon. Giro-
lamo Menghi’s Fustis daemonum, an exorcist’s manual published in 1584,
includes theories about possession in addition to a series of exorcism
rituals.14 Menghi specifically connects the cold, dry humors associated
with melancholy to demonic possession and states that, “. . . women are
12 Matt. 12:43–45.
13 Judith Herrin, “In Search of Byzantine women: three avenues of approach,” in Images
of Women in Antiquity, ed. Averil Cameron and Amélie Kuhrt (Detroit: Wayne State Uni-
versity Press, 1983), 172. “In the absence of medical expertise, midwives regularly employed
ancient customs closer to pagan superstition than birthing folklore . . . Women presided
over these highly personal and significant matters and were regularly condemned by both
the civil and ecclesiastical authorities for perpetuating pre-Christian beliefs.”
14 Girolamo Menghi, Fustis daemonum adiurationes formidabiles, potentissimas et effi-
caces in malignos spiritus fugandos de oppressis corporibushumanis (Bologna: Giovanni
Rossi, 1584).
more susceptible to demonic possession than men because of the humors

peculiar to their nature.”15
In hagiographical literature male saints were often described as being
under attack from outside temptations while a woman’s sinful nature
came from within, “. . . hagiographers were inclined to see female sin as
bodily or sexual, as arising within the woman’s body, whereas male sin-
ners were depicted as tempted from without—often indeed as tempted
by the proffered bodiliness of women.”16 Because the body was associ-
ated with earthly passions, controlling the body was seen as a means of
avoiding sin.
Artistic depictions of female victims of possession reflect the many
aspects of a woman’s anatomy, morality, and mentality that made her
especially likely to be possessed by demons. Specifically, they deliberately
reversed norms of proper feminine behavior and appearance in their
representations of possessed women to characterize the violent charac-
ter of demonic possession and the control of the demon over the body.
A typical representation of demonic possession can be identified in the
Bardi dossal, a thirteenth-century Franciscan altarpiece, depicting Saint
Francis surrounded by twenty scenes from his life (fig. 13.2). In the cen-
ter of the scene in question a woman is shown with her hands bound to
contain dangerous movements caused by the demons. Her ugly, heavily
lined mouth opens wide to accommodate the exiting demons. A swol-
len neck, seen in the image as surrounded by rings of flesh, was a sign
of demonic presence. When Saint Catherine exorcised a demon from a
child she observed the workings of the demon in the possessed child’s
throat, “he [the demon] was still producing movements and swellings in
her throat.”17 Straggling, unbound hair appears in nearly every represen-
tation of a female demoniac, and is the most consistent physical sign of
possession in Italian painting. The depiction of women with unbound hair
in exorcism images reflects a perception of women as morally weak and
sinful that dates back to Eve in Genesis. As this essay demonstrates, the
depiction of the exorcism of Mary Magdalene eschews many traditional
15 George Joseph Hummel, “Medicinal Exorcisms: The ‘Ritual Virtues’ of the Remedia
Efficassima and the Work of Girolamo Menghi” (PhD diss., University of Connecticut,
1999), 53.
16 Caroline Walker Bynum, Fragmentation and Redemption: Essays on Gender and the
Human Body in Medieval Religion (New York: Zone Books, 1991), 203–4.
17 Raymond of Capua, The Life of Catherine of Siena, trans. Conleth Kearns, O.P. (Wash-
ington D.C.: Dominicana Publications, 1994), 254.
348 andrea begel
Fig. 13.2. Master of the Bardi Dossal, detail of the Exorcism from the Bardi Dossal,
c. 1250, Bardi Chapel, Santa Croce, Florence. Photo: Art Resource, New York.
elements of exorcism imagery, while at the same time subtly alluding to

central aspects of the theme.
The carnal nature of the Magdalene’s early life as explicated in her leg-
end could certainly have been read as an invitation to demonic posses-
sion. Although the sins of the woman at the house of the Pharisee are
never specified in the Bible commentators connected them to her sexual-
ity and often identified her as a prostitute. Jacobus de Voragine’s Golden
Legend further elaborated on her early life and provided the reader with a
specific and rather salacious account of the Magdalene’s sins. “Magdalene,
then, was very rich, and sensuous pleasure keeps company with great
wealth. Renowned as she was for her beauty and her riches, she was no
less known for the way she gave her body to pleasure—so much so that
her proper name was forgotten and she was commonly called the sinner.”18
Voragine took care to link her sins to her sexuality, which he later referred
18 Jacobus de Voragine, The Golden Legend, trans. William Granger Ryan (Princeton:
Princeton University Press, 1993), 375.
to as “the heights of carnal enjoyment.”19 By noting that that she was

called “the sinner” he explicitly linked her to the unnamed biblical sinner
in the house of the Pharisee, confirming the identification established by
Pope Gregory.
In his scene of the Anointing, Giovanni da Milano follows tradition
in his presentation of the Magdalene as a profound and perhaps typical
female sinner who is primarily guilty of sexual sin. However, the artist also
represents her as an atypical victim of demonic possession. Her hands
unbound, she is controlled and calm in her act of penance. Her beautiful,
serene, face belies the extreme physical tortures of possession and exor-
cism. Only her lavish unbound hair mirrors the appearance of other pos-
sessed women. In this way, Giovanni da Milano’s representation reflects
the unique dual nature of the composite Magdalene, as both sinner and
faithful companion of Christ, one who sinned and was possessed, but also
a revered saint who could not appropriately be shown as a bound, hideous
demoniac. In every respect, including the number of demons expelled, the
manner of her exorcism, and her comportment in the moment of exor-
cism, the Magdalene is presented in the fresco as an extraordinary sinner
and penitent.
Giovanni da Milano’s Fresco
The popularity of the Magdalene as a cult figure grew steadily throughout

the thirteenth and fourteenth centuries in Italy, particularly among the
Franciscans and Dominicans, who emphasized public penitence.20 The
narrative of Giovanni da Milano’s Anointing from the Guidalotti-Rinuccini
Chapel21 illustrates the dramatic moment of Mary Magdalene’s repentance,
19 Voragine, Golden Legend, 382. Artistic representations of the early life of the
Magdalene are extremely rare. One example of a work showing her life before penance is
Lucas van Leyden’s engraving The Dance of Mary Magdalene (1519).
20 Susan Haskins, Mary Magdalen: Myth and Metaphor (New York: Harcourt Brace,
1993), 232.
21 Facing the altar, the right wall of the chapel is decorated with episodes from the
Life of the Magdalene, the left wall with stories of the Virgin Mary. Giorgio Vasari, Lives of
the Most Eminent Painters, Sculptors, and Architects (1568), trans. Gaston C. du Vere (New
York: Alfred A. Knopf, 1996), 170–71. Although Vasari attributed the fresco cycle to Taddeo
Gaddi, most of the chapel is now confidently attributed to Giovanni da Milano, a Lombard
artist who arrived in Florence c. 1345. During restoration of the frescoes in 1960, the coat
of arms of the Guidalotti family was discovered on the east wall, suggesting that this fam-
ily commissioned the fresco decoration from Giovanni da Milano c. 1363. An inscription
on the entrance wall names Lapo Rinuccini as the patron of the chapel and is dated 1371,
350 andrea begel
when she enters the house of Simon the Pharisee and bathes Christ’s feet
in tears (fig. 13.1). The Gospels form the textual basis for Giovanni’s rep-
resentation. While Christ dines at the house of the Pharisee a “woman in
the city, who was a sinner,” enters the house. “She stood behind him at his
feet, weeping, and began to bathe his feet with her tears and to dry them
with her hair. Then she continued kissing his feet and anointing them
with the ointment.” When the Pharisee protests that Christ should not
allow a sinful woman to touch him Christ responds, “the greatest sinners
deserve the most love.”22
This scene became one of the most commonly depicted episodes of the
life of the Magdalene in Italy, and it was included in the influential fresco
cycle of her life at San Francesco in Assisi, executed in the lower church
by Giotto and his workshop (c. 1306) (fig. 13.3). Although the Anointing at
Assisi clearly served as a visual model for the Santa Croce fresco, a com-
parison of the two scenes shows that Giovanni da Milano made a few sig-
nificant changes (fig. 13.1). In the Assisi fresco, Christ sits at the head of a
long table with the Pharisee and is waited on by servants of the house. The
Magdalene kneels alongside and slightly behind him, reaching forward
to grasp his foot and kiss it as indicated in the Gospel account of Luke.
Giovanni da Milano avoided the rather awkward compositional problem
encountered by other artists of placing the Magdalene crouching behind
Christ while she wipes his feet with her hair. Instead, the artist depicted
the Magdalene kneeling beneath the table and in front of Christ, cradling
his feet in her hands. This arrangement creates a more direct and intimate
connection between the Magdalene and Christ. She wears her traditional
red robe and her long golden hair flows down her back. One strand of hair
glides down her left arm to touch Christ’s foot.
Along with the placement of the Magdalene, Giovanni da Milano’s most
significant iconographical innovation is the inclusion of seven demons in
the upper part of the scene. The room is presented as a cut-away view,
making the interior and exterior visible simultaneously. The demons are
shown soaring above the roof, to indicate their swift departure. The group
indicating a terminus ante quem for both the construction and the fresco decoration. The
Peruzzi family built the sacristy. Ena Giurescu, “Trecento Family Chapels in Santa Maria
Novella and Santa Croce: Architecture, Patronage, and Competition,” (PhD diss., New
York University, 1997), 160. For a complete discussion of the Guidalotti-Rinuccini chapel
see also: Michelle A. Erhardt, “Two Faces of Mary: Franciscan Thought and Post-Plague
Patronage in the Trecento Fresco Decoration of the Guidalotti-Rinuccini Chapel of Santa
Croce, Florence,” (PhD diss., Indiana University, 2004), 15.
22 Luke 7:36–43.
Fig. 13.3. Giotto (or workshop), The Anointing (upper left) and the Raising of
Lazarus (upper right), c. 1306–12, fresco, Magdalene Chapel, lower church of San
Francesco, Assisi. Photo: Michelle Erhardt.
is comprised of six black devils led by a seventh, larger demon who car-
ries a shield (fig. 13.1a). For the first time in a visual context, the artist
conflated two separate episodes in the Bible, the expulsion of the seven
demons by Christ from a woman called Mary Magdalene and the pen-
ance in the house of Simon the Pharisee by an unnamed female sinner
who was by that time was universally accepted as Mary Magdalene.23 This
connection had been made long before in commentary and literary texts,
beginning with the homily of Gregory the Great, but previously had not
appeared in art.
From Saint to Sinner
In the Bible, the seven demons serve as an identifying attribute of Mary

Magdalene without any reference to a former life of sin. They are men-
tioned when she is first introduced by name in the Gospel of Luke, and
again in the Gospel of Mark when she is identified as the first follower
23 Luke 8:1–3 and Luke 7:36–50.

352 andrea begel
who sees Christ after his Resurrection. When Mary Magdalene officially
became joined with the sinner in the house of the Pharisee, the seven
demons cast out by Christ took on added symbolism as the evidence of her
sin. This later “composite” Magdalene functioned as an emblem of the sin-
ful, and specifically sexual, woman who repents her sins and becomes one
of Christ’s closest companions. Gregory the Great connected the demons
cast out of the Magdalene not only to her former sinful life but also to
the concept of the seven deadly sins, suggesting a powerful metaphor for
the serious nature of her sins. “What is designated by the seven demons
except the universal sins? Since all time is comprehended in seven days,
totality is rightly signified in the seventh number. Mary had seven demons
because she was filled with the totality of vices.”24 The number of demons
represents the extreme gravity of her sins, which became associated pri-
marily with lust and her apocryphal activities as a prostitute.
Many scholars have viewed the demons in the fresco strictly as an attri-
bute of the Magdalene, intended to remind the viewer of her status in the
Bible as the woman from whom Christ cast out the demons.25 However,
one might ask why other artists did not include them in their representa-
tions of this narrative, and why they would be depicted alongside other
common attributes of the Magdalene, such as her long golden hair, her
red cloak, and a jar of ointment. In fact, Giovanni da Milano includes all
three of these attributes in this scene, making it hardly necessary to fur-
ther clarify the identification of the figure. Had he wanted to strictly fol-
low the Biblical text, he might have depicted demons in the scene of the
Noli me tangere, where Christ shows himself to the Magdalene after the
Resurrection. It is in the Gospel of Mark where Mary Magdalene is identi-
fied as the one who had been possessed of seven demons. Giovanni da
Milano’s choice of the scene at the house of the Pharisee suggests other
reasons for their presence. The inscription below the fresco further sup-
ports the idea that the exorcism takes place at the moment of repentance.
“Here is the fortunate Mary Magdalene who turns her body and from her
back seven demons were expelled” (fig. 13.1a). The inscription serves as
a cue to the viewer as to how to read this unique visual interpretation,
24 Gregory the Great, Homilia 33 in Homiliarum in evangelia, Lib. II, PL76 1239. Patrolo-
giae Cursus Completus: Series Latina, ed. J.-P. Migne.
25 Haskins, Mary Magdalen: Myth and Metaphor, 198. “This scene [Mary and Martha]
follows that of the feast in the house of the Pharisee, Luke’s sinner at Christ’s feet, while
seven devils dance out of the roof, there to remind the faithful that Luke’s sinner, Mary
Magdalene, and Mary of Bethany are all one and the same.”
underlining the fact that the demons were expelled “from her body” rather
than from her mouth as was typical in scenes of exorcism, but would not
have been visually logical here.
The Biblical and apocryphal texts never explicitly state when the exor-
cism of the Magdalene’s demons took place. However, the Gospel of Luke
reiterates the identification of Mary Magdalene as the woman with seven
demons immediately following the narrative account of the moment of
the penance of an unnamed woman at the house of the Pharisee. “Soon
afterwards, he [Christ] went on through cities and villages, proclaiming
and bringing the good news of the kingdom of God. The twelve were
with him, as well as some women who had been cured of evil spirits and
infirmities: Mary, called Magdalene, from whom seven demons had gone
out . . .”26 In the Golden Legend, Jacobus de Voragine directly identifies the
sinner at the house of the Pharisee with the woman from whom Christ
cast out seven demons, Mary Magdalene:
Meanwhile, Christ was preaching here and there, and she, guided by the
divine will, hastened to the house of Simon the leper, where, she had
learned, he was at table. Being a sinner she did not dare mingle with the
righteous, but stayed back and washed the Lord’s feet with her tears, dried
them with her hair, and anointed them with precious ointment . . . This is
the Magdalene upon whom Jesus conferred such great graces and to whom
he showed so many marks of love. He cast seven devils out of her . . .27
Although neither text specifically states that the exorcism of the demons
took place after, or as a result of, the Magdalene’s penance at the house
of the Pharisee, the ordering of the episodes in the popular Golden Legend
might have been suggestive to the artist.
Giovanni da Milano employed a unique visual solution to bring together
disparate textual elements, utilizing the demons not only as attributes to
link different parts of the Magdalene’s legend, but also as active agents in
the central meaning of the story, as they visually express the displacement
of evil through penance and forgiveness. Whether or not the artist was
strictly following the text of the Golden Legend, we may imagine that he
saw an opportunity to make the Magdalene’s penance even more dramatic
by including the literal expulsion of demons at that same moment.
26 Luke 8:1–2.
27 Jacobus de Voragine, Golden Legend, 375–76.
354 andrea begel
Profound Penance
As Michelle Erhardt’s essay in this volume makes clear, penance was a cen-
tral theme for the Franciscan order. In addition to the traditional meaning
of penance embodied by the scene of the Anointing, Giovanni da Milano
presents this theme in an entirely new way. Rather than depicting Christ
as a traditional exorcist, Giovanni da Milano offers an interpretation of the
narrative, in which Christ’s act is both forgiveness and a healing through
exorcism. As we have seen, the severity and number of the Magdalene’s
sins is emphasized in the literature to underscore the dramatic nature of
her penitence. Contemporary sermons on the Magdalene also focus on
both the depth of her sin and the sincerity of her penitence.28 The artist
is able to depict this visually through the seven demons and through his
suggestion that they are driven away by the Magdalene’s powerful and
extraordinary act of penance, creating an indirect version of the traditional
exorcism ritual of incantation and gesture. Christ’s words to the sinner at
the house of the Pharisee suggest her transformation through penance,
Therefore, I tell you, her sins, which were many, have been forgiven; hence
she has shown great love. But the one to whom little is forgiven, loves little.’
Then he said to her, ‘Your sins are forgiven.’ But those who were at the table
with him began to say amongst themselves, ‘Who is this who even forgives
sins?’ And he said to the woman, ‘Your faith has saved you; go in peace.’29
The special power of Christ comes from his ability to forgive sins, and
merely by doing so, to banish evil. The peace that the Magdalene feels
after her penance mirrors the release from torment felt by the demoniac
after exorcism.
The artist may have utilized another traditional attribute of the
Magdalene, her long, loose hair, as a subtle reference to both her exorcism
and repentance in this scene. Giovanni da Milano visually emphasizes the
importance of her hair in the fresco by showing it not only falling loose
down her back, but actually directing one strand down her arm to touch
Christ’s feet.
The loose hair of the sinner, which she uses to dry Christ’s feet, suggests
that she is a prostitute, because no respectable woman would wear her
28 Katherine Ludwig Jansen, The Making of the Magdalen: Preaching and Popular devo-
tion in the Later Middle Ages (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 2000).
29 Luke 7:47–50.
hair down in public.30 In art, the Magdalene’s hair became her central
attribute and took on a myriad of symbolic meanings. Her long golden
hair suggested her beauty and former life of sensuality, while simultane-
ously functioning as the instrument of her penitence. Later in her life, her
long hair became an attribute of her life as a hermit saint and represented
her neglect of the former emblem of her beauty.31 Paradoxically, the loose
hair of the Magdalene could indicate her readiness to repent her sins
when represented in the context of exorcism. The ritual of preparation for
baptism in the early Christian church included several exorcisms as part
of a purification ritual performed immediately before baptism. Women
were required to have unbound hair for the baptism to represent their
willingness to renounce their vanity and, by extension, Satan: “[women]
who have loosed their hair, and laid aside the gold and silver ornaments
which they were wearing; let not take any alien thing down to the water
with them.”32 Specifically, the unbound hair represented a renunciation
of the luxurious hair combs and ornaments that were often denounced in
medieval sermons.
The unbound hair of the Magdalene could also indicate rejection of
worldly vanities and the devil, just as it did in the early Christian baptis-
mal rite. Unbound hair in exorcism scenes may refer to the role of exor-
cism in the rite of baptism, and also to the spiritual transformation that
takes place as a result of both rituals. The symbolism would be particularly
appropriate in the context of Magadalene iconography, as her hair was
well known as a symbol of her worldly vanity and later her penance at the
feet of Christ. A sermon of Saint Bernard of Clairvaux on the Book of Reve-
lation provides further support for the interpretation of the Magdalene as
a woman released from demonic possession through penance, “From the
west, that is, through the gates of penitence, Mary Magdalene entered, who
because of her sins had previously been the dwelling place of demons.”33
The sermon also reflects the architecture and usage of the Italian baptis-
tery. Innocents and young children entered through the east doors for the
baptism, while penitents entered though the west. In a possible reference
to the functions of the baptistery and the symbolism of its doors as gates
30 Haskins, Mary Magdalen: Myth and Metaphor, 18.

31 Bonnie A. Bennett and David G. Wilkins, Donatello (Oxford: Phaidon, 1984), 215.
32 Henry Ansgar Kelly, The Devil at Baptism: Ritual, Theology, and Drama (Ithaca: Cor-
nell University Press, 1985), 89.
33 Sarah Blake McHam, “Donatello’s Tomb of Pope John XXIII,” in Life and Death in
Fifteenth Century Florence, ed. Marcel Tetel, Ronald G. Witt and Rona Goffen (Durham:
Duke University Press, 1989), 168 and note 82.
356 andrea begel
to the heavenly city, Donatello’s wooden Magdalene, carved for the Flor-
ence Baptistery, may have been displayed on the west wall, facing the
tomb of John XXIII.34 The importance of the act of penance would have
been a theme particularly relevant to the Franciscan friars of Santa Croce,
the primary audience for these frescoes because of their location in the
sacristy.35
Saint Francis as Exorcist and alter Christi
The unique visualization of exorcism in Giovanni da Milano’s fresco, made

for a Franciscan context, may also reflect the importance of exorcism in the
early representations of Saint Francis. The account of Saint Francis’ spiritual
calling suggests that healing miracles, including exorcism, played a central
role in his mission. While attending Mass at the Portiuncula, a small church
in the woods southwest of Assisi, he was greatly affected upon hearing a
passage from the Gospel of Matthew, Christ’s charge to his apostles,
As you go, proclaim the good news, ‘The kingdom of heaven has come
near. Cure the sick, raise the dead, cleanse the lepers, cast out demons. You
received without payment; give without payment. Take no gold, or silver, or
copper in your belts, no bag for your journey, or two tunics, or sandals, or a
staff; for laborers deserve their food.36
At that moment Francis cried out, “. . . this is what I long with all my heart to
do,” and he took off his sandals and leather belt and wrapped a piece of cord
around his waist.37 Christ’s message to his apostles formed the foundation
of Francis’ well-known commitment to poverty and his less commonly con-
sidered life as a miracle worker and exorcist. Both of these characteristics
emphasized Saint Francis’ most important role as alter Christus.
Images of exorcism were prominent in the earliest representations of
Saint Francis, although they are rarely considered in scholarship. The exor-
cisms are depicted as posthumous miracles occurring at Francis’ tomb in
Assisi. Miracles at the tomb proved that that the saint functioned effec-
34 McHam, “Donatello’s Tomb,” 168.

35 Erhardt, “The Magdalene as Mirror,” 157.
36 Matt 10:8.
37 John Moorman, A History of the Franciscan Order From its Origins to the Year 1517
(Chicago: Franciscan Herald Press, 1988), 9.
tively as an intercessor, and provided an incentive for making a pilgrim-

age to the tomb.38
The iconography of Franciscan altarpieces in the thirteenth century
was based on biographies written by the first official Franciscan chroni-
cler, Thomas of Celano. Along with that text, these paintings played a
significant role in disseminating the official biography of Saint Francis.
Accounts of exorcisms are related in the in the section of posthumous
miracles in book three of Thomas of Celano’s Vita Prima (First Life). The
first exorcism Thomas describes is that of Peter of Foligno, a pious man
who was traveling to visit a shrine of Michael the Archangel.39 He was
possessed for three years, during which time he did “some most wicked
things.”40 At last he came to the tomb of Saint Francis and was “wonder-
fully freed from them [the demons] by a clear and manifest miracle when
he touched the sepulcher.”41 Thomas of Celano’s Tractatus de Miraculis
was another important source for posthumous miracles, particularly in the
later part of the thirteenth century. It includes all of the exorcisms described
in the Vita Prima both prior to Francis’s death and at his tomb. The Treatise
adds only one new account of exorcism, the story of the girl of Norcia.
A girl of Norcia appeared listless for some time and it was eventually clear
she was troubled by a devil. For she would often gnash her teeth and tear
at herself. She would not avoid dangerous heights, nor did she fear any haz-
ard . . . Her parents were tormented by the confusion of their offspring; they
tied her on a stretcher mounted on a draft animal and took her to Assisi.
During the celebration of Mass on the feast of the Lord’s Circumcision, she
lay prone before the altar of Saint Francis. Suddenly she vomited some dam-
nable thing—I can’t say what—and then got up on her feet. She kissed the
altar of Saint Francis, and now fully free of her illness she shouted, ‘Praise
the Lord and His holy one!’42
The narrative emphasizes the profound physical and mental effects of pos-
session, and the unique healing power of Saint Francis’ relics. Although it
is often difficult to identify Franciscan images of exorcism with a specific
moment from Celano’s text, the representations of possessed women in
thirteenth-century altarpieces may be linked to this passage.
38 Aviad Kleinberg, “Proving Sanctity: Selection and Authentication of Saints in the

later Middle Ages,” Viator 20 (1989): 183–205.
39 Possibly the Sanctuary of Saint Michael the Archangel in Monte Sant’ Angelo, Italy,
where, according to tradition, Saint Francis himself made a pilgrimage.
40 Thomas of Celano, Saint Francis of Assisi: First and Second life, 122.
358 andrea begel
Three of the altarpieces painted in the early years following the death
of Saint Francis include posthumous scenes of exorcism at his tomb: the
dossal painted by Bonaventura Berlinghieri for the Franciscan church at
Pescia (1235), the previously discussed Bardi dossal now at Santa Croce,
Florence (c. 1250), and an altarpiece by an anonymous Umbrian Master,
sometimes attributed to Giunta Pisano, now located in the treasury at
Assisi (c. 1253). A close examination of one of these paintings, the Bardi
Dossal (fig. 13.2), will serve to illustrate how exorcism was commonly rep-
resented in a Franciscan context.
The Bardi Dossal was the most extensive narrative cycle of the life of
Saint Francis before the frescoes at Assisi were painted some sixty years
later. Wrongly attributed to Cimabue by Vasari, the author and patron
of the altarpiece have never been securely identified.43 Its common title
is derived from its location in the Bardi Chapel, although it was not dis-
played there until 1595.44 The exorcism scene is located on the right hand
side of the central representation of Saint Francis. A female demoniac
clothed in a long white garment dominates the composition. Her hands
are bound behind her back. Her face is deeply lined and the artist includes
two thick rings of flesh around her neck to suggest swelling.45 This is an
early example of an almost scientific interest in the physical condition
of the possessed in artistic representations. Three demons fan out across
the upper part of the scene and their distinctive shapes are dramatically
silhouetted against the gold background. The central demon literally steps
out of the woman’s mouth, with one claw firmly placed on her lower lip. It
is difficult to determine if the artist intended to show three demons being
expelled from one woman, or three victims being exorcised. If all three
demons in fact emerge from the woman, this would be a very unusual rep-
resentation of more than one demon being exorcised from a single victim
of possession. It is worth noting that the Magdalene’s seven demons also
made her an extraordinary victim of possession.
43 “. . . he made a S. Francis on a small panel in gold ground, and portrayed him from
nature (which was something new in those times) as best he knew, and round him all the
stories of his life, in twenty small pictures full of little figures on a gold ground.” Vasari,
249–50. See also: Miklós Boskovits, The Origins of Florentine Painting 1100–1270 section I,
vol. I in A Critical and Historical Corpus of Florentine Painting, ed. Richard Offner (Florence:
Giunti Gruppo Editoriale, 1993), 472.
44 Rona Goffen, Spirituality in Conflict: Saint Francis and Giotto’s Bardi Chapel (Univer-
sity Park: Pennsylvania State University Press, 1988), 29. The panel was translated there
with great ceremony, as though it were a highly venerated relic.
45 For other examples of the swollen neck in exorcism images see JM Charcot and Paul
Richer, Les Démoniaques dans l’Art (Paris: Macula, 1984), 61.
The dramatic scene reminds the viewer of the profound power of Saint
Francis to perform miracles as well as the connection between Christ and
Saint Francis’ roles as effective exorcists, triumphing over the evil of the
possessing demon. Read as a whole, the altarpiece is a concise visualiza-
tion of the original mission of Francis as expressed in the Gospel that
inspired him, Christ’s call to poverty and healing.
By the early years of the Trecento, the emphasis on the power of the rel-
ics of Saint Francis to heal demoniacs seems to have waned. The iconog-
raphy of the new narrative cycles changed significantly, and the exorcism
scene disappeared almost entirely from Franciscan art. If, as this essay
suggests, Giovanni da Milano’s fresco of the Anointing can be interpreted
as a scene of exorcism, the theme remained in the Franciscan context in a
new visual expression. The fresco not only offers a new visual theme in the
iconography of the Magdalene, but also reflects the original foundation of
Saint Francis’ mission, healing and poverty, and his commitment to reflect
the life of Christ as closely as possible. While no longer directly depicting
the power of Saint Francis or his relics to exorcise demons, the image still
recalls this healing miracle, once central to his ministry, and combines it
with newer concerns of the order in its emphasis on public penance as
embodied in the increasingly popular figure of Mary Magdalene.
Chapter fourteen
“WOMAN WHY WEEPEST THOU?” MARY MAGDALENE, THE VIRGIN

MARY AND THE TRANSFORMATIVE POWER OF HOLY TEARS IN LATE
MEDIEVAL DEVOTIONAL PAINTING
Vibeke Olson
Saint Mary Magdalene, you came with springing tears

to the spring of mercy, Christ; from him your burning
thirst was abundantly refreshed; through him your sins
were forgiven; by him your bitter sorrow was consoled.1
When the risen Christ appeared to a weeping and distraught Mary
Magdalene in the garden, she was lamenting the loss of her master.
Through her veil of tears, Christ revealed himself to her and instructed her
to tell the disciples, “I have seen the Lord” (John 20:15–18). The response
to her tears was the opportunity to behold and interact with Christ. This
example of a repentant sinner who, through her tears, was granted an
encounter with Christ is a powerful one and it becomes an increasingly
popular theme in mysticism and northern devotional painting of the
later Middle Ages.2 Equally powerful and popular were images and visions
of the grief-stricken Virgin Mary witnessing her son’s agonizing death
1 Anselm of Canterbury, Oratio 16, “Prayer to St Mary Magdalene,” in The Prayers and
Meditations of St. Anselm with the Proslogion, trans. Benedicta Ward (London: Penguin
Books, 1973), 201.
2 In this essay, I am only considering the visual tradition of the late medieval period in
Northern Europe. For an examination of holy tears and the Italian response, see the fol-
lowing essays by Federica Veratelli: “Lacrime dipinte, lacrime reali. Rappresentare il dolore
nel Quattrocento: modello fiammingo, ricezione italiana,” Storia dell’arte 113/114 (2006):
5–34, and “Iconografia del dolore. Richerche sulia rappresntazione dell’immagine di
soffrenza nel Quattrocento: il caso delle Fiandre e la ricezione Italiana,” Critica d’arte 67/
no. 23–24 (2004): 28–48. I would like to thank Laura Gelfand for bringing these two essays
to my attention.
The theme of the repentant Magdalene was also popular in liturgical dramas and mys-
tery plays. See for example, Susan K. Rankin “The Mary Magdalene Scene in the Visitatio
Sepulchri Ceremonies,” Early Music History 1 (1981): 227–255; Helmut de Boor Die Testge-
schichte der lateinischen Osterferien (Tübingen: Max Niemeyer, 1976), and Peter Dronke,
“Laments of the Maries: From the Beginnings to the Mystery Plays,” in Idee, Gestalt,
Geschichte: Festschrift Klaus von See, ed. G.W. Weber (Odense: Odense University Press,
1988), 89–116.
362 vibeke olson
on the cross. Representations of the weeping Magdalene, lamenting her

sins and her loss, and her contra-counterpart, the sorrowing Virgin Mary
mourning her son’s sacrifice for humanity, provided the beholder with a
visual and an emotive paradigm. The sorrowing Virgin represented the
ideal example of sinless grief and the Magdalene was the model of tear-
laden penitent behavior. Their power lay in their tears; they drew from the
beholder an emotional response and could even act as agents for a vision.
For the viewer, following their example reaped its own rewards, specifi-
cally the hope of salvation and the potential to participate directly in the
Marys’ grief as a co-mourner and eyewitness to Christ’s Passion.
The Power of Tears
. . . she went to the church . . . where this creature saw a fair image of our
Lady called a pity [Pietà]. And through the beholding of that pity, her mind
was all wholly occupied in the Passion of our Lord Jesus Christ and in the
compassion of our Lady, Saint Mary, by which she was compelled to cry full
loudly and weep full sorely, as though she should have died.
Then came to her the lady’s priest, saying “Damsel, Jesus is dead long
since.”
When her crying was ceased, she said to the priest, “Sir, his death is as
fresh to me as if he had died this same day . . .”3
These are the words of the fifteenth-century visionary mystic, Margery
Kempe, recalling her experience of meditating on an image of the dead
Christ and his sorrowing mother. She empathized with the Virgin’s pain
and sorrow to the point of imitating her with a fit of unrestrained sob-
bing. As a result, Margery experienced Christ’s death as if she herself
were an eyewitness. Margery’s reaction to seeing the Pietà is unusual, but
only in terms of its documentation as few medieval documents survive
to inform us of a spectator’s reaction to a devotional image.4 Margery’s
3 Modern translation from Book I, chapter 60, The Book of Margery Kempe: A New
Translation, trans and ed. Lynn Staley (New York: WW Norton & Company, 2001), 109.
See also the transcription of the original text in, The Book of Margery Kempe, ed. Sanford
Brown and Hope Emily Meech (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1940), 148: 4–14.
4 Other reports on tearful viewer responses to images include the story of Saint Fran-
cis’ vision of a painted image of Christ crucified speaking to him, “Francis, go repair my
house . . .” From then on, according to Thomas of Celano, Saint Francis “could never keep
himself from weeping, even bewailing in a loud voice the Passion of Christ which was
always, as it were, before his mind.” (Thomas of Celano, Second Life of Saint Francis cited in
Elkins, Pictures and Tears, 153), and the anecdotal dialogue between Michelangelo and Vit-
toria Colonna on Flemish painting, “Flemish painting . . . will, generally speaking . . . please
“woman why weepest thou?” 363
Fig. 14.1. Rogier van der Weyden, Deposition, c. 1436, wood, 220 × 262 cm.
Museo del Prado, Madrid, Spain. Photo: Erich Lessing/Art Resource, NY.
tearful response to the image parallels the experiences of visionary mys-

tics as well as the reactions of pilgrims who witnessed firsthand the sites
of Christ’s Passion. This recollection, then, is all the more valuable as it
reaffirms our understanding of the late medieval devotional experience
as one of emotive compassion. Furthermore, these poignant images had
the power to transport the beholder, via the vehicle of sorrow and tears,
to the event being depicted.
From the first painted tears represented by Rogier van der Weyden
(fig. 14.1), weeping appears as a recurring theme throughout the genre
of late medieval devotional paintings in northern Europe (for example,
figures 14.1–14.5).5 The paintings are visually charged and their emotional
the devout better than any painting of Italy, which will never cause him to shed a tear,
whereas that of Flanders will cause him to shed many . . .”, see Francisco de Holanda, Four
Dialogues on Painting, trans. Aubrey FitzGerald Bell (Oxford: Oxford University Press,
1928), 15.
5 See, among others, Diane Apostolos-Cappadona, “ ‘Pray with Tears and Your Request
Will Find a Hearing’: On the Iconology of the Magdalene’s Tears,” in Holy Tears: Weeping
364 vibeke olson
impact is delivered through images of the weeping Magdalene and the sor-
rowing Virgin that can be understood as paradigms for pious women who
were encouraged to imitate these models in their daily, private devotions.
They were interactive images; role-playing scenarios that manipulated the
emotions of the spectator in a tradition referred to as affective piety. In
this practice devotion and sorrow become unified within the beholder
who acts out or responds to the perceived emotions and feelings of the
persons depicted, usually Christ, the Virgin Mary or Mary Magdalene.
Beginning in the thirteenth century, there was an increased interest,
both in the visual arts and in literature, in exploring the sorrow and suf-
fering of the two Marys. This essay explores the tradition of devotional lit-
erature and its connection to this particular iconographic representation
of the later Middle Ages. As background this essay considers the salvific
significance of holy tears in the literary tradition (biblical, exegetical and
mystical), with a particular focus on the writings of, for, or about women.
Further, this essay examines the dualistic nature of the Virgin and the
Magdalene as exemplars for salvation. And finally, exploring the tearful
response of pilgrims (many of whom were women) who experienced first-
hand the sites of Christ’s Passion, this discussion reflects on the transport-
ive potential of tears, thus linking text and image as a means for imaginary
pilgrimage.
The ‘donum lacrimorum’ in the Literary Tradition
Tears, particularly tears of contrition and compassion, were considered a

gift, a donum lacrimorum, eagerly sought after in prayer in order to bring
the reward of absolution.6 The example is set forth in Biblical texts in
in the Religious Imagination, ed. Kimberly Christine Patton and John Stratton Hawley
(Princeton: Princeton University Press, 2005), 201–28; James Elkins, Pictures and Tears:
A History of People Who Have Cried in Front of Paintings (New York: Routledge, 2001),
esp. chap. 9; Carol M. Schuler, “The Seven Sorrows of the Virgin: Popular Culture and
Cultic Imagery in Pre-Reformation Europe,” Simiolus 21/1–2 (1992): 5–28; Martha Wolff,
“An Image of Compassion: Dieric Bouts’s Sorrowing Madonna,” Museum Studies 15/no. 2
(1989): 112–25; Moshe Barasch, “The Crying Face,” Artibus et Historiae 8/15 (1987): 21–36;
Don Denny, “Notes on the Avignon Pietà,” Speculum 44/no. 2 (1969): 213–33; Otto G. von
Simson, “Compassio and Co-Redemptio in Rogier van der Weyden’s Descent from the Cross,”
Art Bulletin 35 (1953): 9–16; “Dorothy C. Shorr, “The Mourning Virgin and St. John,” Art Bul-
letin 22/no. 2 (1940): 61–69; and Paul Jamot, “An Avignonese Mater Dolorosa,” Burlington
Magazine 50/no. 287 (1927): 72–75.
6 While studies abound on the topic of holy tears, some of the more pertinent include,
Tom Lutz, Crying: The Natural and Cultural History of Tears (New York: W.W. Norton, 1999),
which the shedding of tears granted eternal happiness, as in Luke 6:21,

“Blessed are you who weep now, for you will laugh”, and Revelation 21:4,
“God shall wipe away all tears from their eyes, and death shall be no more,
nor mourning, nor crying, nor sorrow.” Pious weeping was a goal sought
by the faithful, the attainment of which would grant them audience with
the divine who would subsequently wipe away their sadness. The eighth-
century Gregorian Sacramentary even included a prayer for tears stating,
“Draw forth from our stony hearts tears of compunction, that we may
bewail our sins.”7 Tears have also been referenced in the writings of early
church leaders such as Tertullian (c. 155–230),8 John Cassian (c. 360–433),9
John Crysostom (c. 394–407),10 and Augustine (354–430),11 all of whom
discuss the significance of prayer accompanied by tears. The seventh-
century theologian, Isaac of Nineveh (d. c. 700), in a eulogy on the gift
of tears wrote, “Adoration not accompanied by spontaneously and effort-
lessly flowing tears is imperfect.”12 Even the Benedictine rule mandated
tears of compassion in prayer.13
esp. chap. 1; Emile M. Cioran, Tears and Saints, trans. Ilinca Zarifopol-Johnston (Chicago:
University of Chicago Press, 1995), Sandra J. McEntire, The Doctrine of Compunction in Late
Medieval England: Holy Tears (New York: Mellen, 1990); and Pierre Adnès, “Larmes,” in Dic-
tionnaire de Spiritualité vol. 9 (Paris: Éditions Beauchesne, 1976): 287–303. For the tradition
of Holy Tears in the Eastern tradition, see Bishop Kallistos Ware, “ ‘An Obscure Matter’ ”
The Mystery of Tears in Orthodox Spirituality,” in Patton and Hawley, Holy Tears, 242–54;
and Kimberly Christine Patton, “‘Howl, Weep and Moan, and Bring it Back to God’: Holy
Tears in Eastern Christianity,” in Patton and Hawley, Holy Tears, 255–73.
7 Cited in Clarissa W. Atkinson, Mystic and Pilgrim: The Book and the World of Margery
Kempe (Ithaca: Cornell University Press, 1983), 59.
8 On Repentance, chapter 9, in Barasch, “The Crying Face,” 28–29.
9 Jean Cassien, Conférences vol. 2, ed. Etienne Pichery (Paris: Editions du Cerf, 1958), 63.
10 John Crysostom, “Homilies on the Epistle of St. Paul to the Collosians,” Homily IX,
4:12–13, trans. John Broadus, in Nicene and Post-Nicene Fathers vol. 13, ed. Philip Schaff
(Peabody: Hendrickson Publications, 1994), 316–17.
11 Saint Augustine, Confessions, Book IV, chapter 5 and Book IX, chapter 6, trans. Henry
Chadwick (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1991). Augustine, lamenting the loss of a friend
stated, “Yet if our tearful entreaties did not reach your ears, no remnant of hope would
remain for us. How does it come about that out of the bitterness of life sweet fruit is picked
by groaning and weeping and sighing and mourning?” (IV: 5, 58), and at his baptism being
moved by the music, “How I wept during your hymns and songs! I was deeply moved by
the music of the sweet chants of your Church. The sounds flowed into my ears and the
truth was distilled into my heart. This caused the feelings of devotion to overflow. Tears
ran, and it was good for me to have that experience.” (IX: 6, 164).
12 Isaac of Nineveh, Mystic Treatises, Homily 14, trans. A.J. Wensinck (Amsterdam:
Koninklijke Akademie van Wettenschappen, 1923), 85–86, quoted in Barasch, “The Crying
Face,” 30.
13 Saint Benedict’s Rule for Monasteries, ed. and trans. Leonard J. Doyle (Collegeville:
Liturgical Press, 1948), 41: “And let us be assured that it is not in saying a great deal that
we should be heard, but in purity of heart and tears of compunction.”
366 vibeke olson
By the early eleventh century, tears of contrition become clearly scripted

into the prayers to the Virgin, essentially reminding the supplicant to be
remorseful in their request, as illustrated in the following prayer, which
emphasizes agonized and tearful pleading to Mary in her role as intercessor,
O most sweet and holy ever-virgin Mary, behold, I stand before the face
of your piety, confounded beyond measure by the abominations of my
sins; I have become filthy, deformed, and horrible to the angels and all the
saints. . . . Therefore, weeping and wailing I beseech you, lady . . . do not turn
your face from me . . .14
The mid-eleventh century Salve Regina also concentrates on the penitent
tears of the believer and the mercy of the Virgin who will intercede on
his or her behalf,
Hail, holy Queen, Mother of Mercy,
our life, our sweetness and our hope.
To thee do we cry, poor banished children of Eve;
to thee do we send up our sighs,
mourning and weeping in this vale of tears.
Turn then, most gracious advocate,
thine eyes of mercy toward us;
and after this our exile,
show unto us the blessed fruit of thy womb, Jesus.
O clement, O loving, O sweet Virgin Mary.15
The penitents weep in remorse and beg forgiveness of a merciful and com-
passionate intercessor. The tears are the mechanism, the means by which
the intensity of repentance is demonstrated. The donum lacrimorum was
14 The full prayer can be found in Henri Barré, Prières anciennes de l’occident à la Mère
du Sauveur: Des origines à Saint Anselme (Paris: P. Lethielleux, 1963), 165–71, translated in
Rachel Fulton, From Judgment to Passion: Devotion to Christ and the Virgin Mary, 800–1200
(New York: Columbia University Press, 2002), 204.
15 In Jaroslav Pelikan, Mary Through the Centuries: Her Place in the History of Culture
(New Haven: Yale University Press, 1998), 126. Translation from the Latin:
Salve, Regina, Mater misericordiae,
vita, dulcedo, et spes nostra, salve.
ad te clamamus
exsules filii Hevae,
ad te suspiramus, gementes et flentes
in hac lacrimarum valle.
Eia, ergo, advocata nostra, illos tuos
misericordes oculos ad nos converte;
et Jesum, benedictum fructum ventris tui,
nobis post hoc exsilium ostende.
O clemens, O pia, O dulcis Virgo Maria.
the guarantor of forgiveness, the sign of a truly remorseful soul. But it is

not the tears of the penitent that are stressed in images and later writings,
what we find instead is an exploration of the suffering and sorrow of the
Virgin Mary and Mary Magdalene as models to be imitated. As noted by
Barasch in his study on holy tears, “. . . tears are not simply the reflection
of an agonizing condition, but are also the indication of the character and
status of the figure shedding them. To some extent at least, tears become
an attribute.”16 In the case of the late medieval devotional paintings of the
weeping Marys, tears are the attributes of their moral character and thus
serve as exempla for those seeking absolution.
Lachrymose Marys as Dual Exemplars for Salvation
Above all, it was the sorrowing Marys who acted as catalysts for an emo-
tive response from the devotee, and it is with the later theologians that the
emphasis on their tears is almost exclusively centered on their response to
witnessing Christ’s Passion. Although there is no Biblical reference for the
tearful reaction of the Virgin to the Crucifixion, or to the emotional state
of any of the other witnesses to the event, among them the Magdalene,17
a sudden surge in detailed narrative writings (and later paintings) began
to appear in the west in the late eleventh and early twelfth centuries. The
narrative accounts focused almost exclusively on the emotional distress
of these participants. For example, the Planctus Mariae18 (Laments of
Mary) appeared in the west in the early twelfth century. As noted by Carol
Schuler in her study on the Seven Sorrows of the Virgin, Mary’s anguished
response to Christ’s suffering in the Planctus “provided a virtual catalogue
of suggested responses for those wishing to share in the sufferings of the
Passion.”19 These responses included tears, laments, hair-pulling, breast-
beating, swooning and so forth. The Planctus was followed in the thir-
teenth century by the Stabat Mater (Sorrowful Mother), an expression of
16 Barasch, “The Crying Face,” 36.

17 Mark 15:40 mentions “women looking on from afar”, among them the Magdalene, as
does Matthew 27:55; while John 19:25 has the Marys standing at the foot of the cross. Luke
23: 48 comes closest to addressing the emotional state of the gathered crowd who beat
their breasts, however, the “women” stand at a distance watching.
18 See further Sandro Sticca, The Latin Passion Play: Its Origins and Developments
(Albany: SUNY Press, 1970), esp. Chapter V, “The Planctus Mariae and the Passion Plays,”
122–31; and Sticca, The “Planctus Mariae” in the Dramatic Tradition of the Middle Ages,
trans. Joseph R. Berrigan (Athens: University of Georgia Press, 1988).
19 Schuler, “Seven Sorrows,” 10.
368 vibeke olson
the Virgin Mary’s grief at the foot of the cross. This prayer implores the
Virgin to grant salvation by pleading on the part of the penitent to mourn
with her and share in her pain.
. . . Is there one who would not weep,
whelmed in miseries so deep,
Christ’s dear Mother to behold?
Can the human heart refrain
from partaking in her pain,
in that Mother’s pain untold?
. . . Let me share with thee His pain,
who for all my sins was slain,
who for me in torments died.
Let me mingle tears with thee,
mourning Him who mourned for me,
all the days that I may live:
By the Cross with thee to stay,
there with thee to weep and pray,
is all I ask of thee to give.
. . . When my body dies,
let my soul be granted
the glory of Paradise. Amen.
This focus on the grieving mother of Christ found its way into much of late
medieval culture and religious life, from official sermons and masses,20 to
the personal writings of the clergy, mystics and laity. Anselm of Canterbury
(d. 1109) wrote, “My most merciful lady, what can I say about the foun-
tains that flowed, from your most pure eyes when you saw your only Son
bound, beaten and hurt? What do I know of the flood that drenched your
matchless face . . .”21 Chancellor Jean Gerson of Paris (1363–1429) regaled
the faithful with detailed accounts of the Virgin Mary’s experiences and
20 For example, the eleventh century Sarum missal included a votive mass for tears
and the following prayer: All powerful and meaningful God, who brought forth a spring
of living water from the earth for the thirsting people, draw forth tears of compunction
from the hardness of our hearts, so that we may be able to grieve for our sins and merit
receiving their remission from your piety.” From The Sarum Missal Edited from Three Early
Manuscripts, ed. J. Wickham Legg (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1916), 402; and also the
Premonstratensian missal of 1578, which included two votive masses for Holy Tears and
two for the Compassion of our Lady, cited in Atkinson, Mystic and Pilgrim, 59.
21 Anselm of Canterbury, Oratio 2, “Prayer to Christ,” in Ward, The Prayers and Medita-
tions of St. Anselm, 96, and cited in Fulton, From Judgment to Passion, 204.
sufferings in his Good Friday sermon,22 and the English Cistercian, Ael-
red of Rivaulx (1109–1166) wrote to his sister, “. . . will you not weep as her
soul is pierced by the sword of sorrow?”23 In the Meditations on the Life of
Christ, written c. 1300 by a Franciscan friar for a Poor Clare, we read, “Oh,
if you could see the Lady weeping . . . but moderately and softly, and the
Magdalene, frantic about her Master and crying with deep sobs, perhaps
you too would not restrain your tears!”24 The description and depiction
of the emotional and compassionate reaction of the Marys to the death of
Christ was intended to stimulate the emotions of the audience and act as
a model for those who sought to share in the sufferings at Calvary.
In literature and art the Virgin and Mary Magdalene were understood
as dual paths to salvation, “two eyes in the head of the Church . . . one is
the way of innocence, the other is . . . the way of penance.”25 This duality is
exhibited in Rogier’s Deposition (fig. 14.1) in which the Virgin is dressed in
a loose blue garment and head covering, swooning as co-redemptrix.26 The
Magdalene, in opposition, stands to the right weeping in a low-cut form-
fitting contemporary dress with a belt inscribed Iesus Maria. Through her
attributes and clothing, the Virgin represents chastity and motherhood
and is equated with the vows of chastity and obedience. Conversely, the
Magdalene represents the penitent sinner and is more directly connected
to the viewer and his or her quest for redemption by wearing contempo-
rary clothing, the kirtle.
The Magdalene’s tears, in particular, were used as an instrument to
draw sympathizers who would identify with her as a repentant sinner,
grieve over their own sins and seek penance.27 Peter Comestor (d. 1178)
in his sermon for the feast of the Magdalene, wrote that she was a better
22 Donna Spivey Ellington, “Impassioned Mother or Passive Icon: The Virgin’s Role in
Late Medieval and Early Modern Passion Sermons,” Renaissance Quarterly 48/no. 2 (1995):
233.
23 Aelred of Rivaulx, A Rule for the Life of a Recluse, trans. Mary Paul MacPherson in
The Works of Aelred of Rivaulx, vol. 1, ed. David Knowles (Spencer: Cistercian Publications,
1971), 81, cited in Atkinson, Mystic and Pilgrim, 135.
24 Meditations of the Life of Christ: An Illustrated Manuscript of the Fourteenth Century
(MS Ital. 115, Paris Bibl. Nat.), ed. and trans. Isa Ragusa and Rosalie B. Green (Princeton:
Princeton University Press, 1961), 309, quoted in Atkinson, Mystic and Pilgrim, 149.
25 MS Biblioteca Apostolica Vaticana Barbarini Latin 513, f. 97 v., translated in Kath-
erine L. Jansen, The Making of the Magdalen: Preaching and Popular Devotion in the Later
Middle Ages (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 2000), 239.
26 For a discussion of Mary as co-redemptrix, see von Simson, “Compassio and Co-
redemptio”.
27 See further, Katherine L. Jansen, “Mary Magdalen and the Mendicants: The Preaching
of Penance in the Late Middle Ages,” Journal of Medieval History, 21 (1995): 1–25, esp. 8.
370 vibeke olson
moral exemplar than the Virgin Mary because “there are many more in
the Church who have corrected their faults than there are those who
never knew sin . . . Many, therefore, learn by the Magdalene’s example.”28
It was she, above all, who was blessed with the gift of tears—she bathed
Christ’s feet in them (Luke 7:36–50), she moved Christ so with them that
he raised her dead brother Lazarus (John 11:1–44), she was offered the
first glimpse of the risen Christ through them (John 20:11–18), and her sins
were washed away by them.29 Her tears were free-flowing and her con-
nection to the believer was immediate and effective. Eudes de Châteaur-
oux (1190?–1273), chancellor of the University of Paris 1238–1244, noted her
effectiveness as a model for forgiveness through weeping, “For through
her example, she is instruction for us. She teaches what we sinners ought
to do . . . with bitter laments and tears, having cast off all human shame
she sought forgiveness.”30 An anonymous Franciscan preacher from Mar-
seille also referred to the efficacy of the Magdalene’s tears as a model, “If
indeed you are a sinner, she gives you an example of weeping so that you
will weep with her.”31 Consequently, in religious images the Magdalene is
sometimes singled out as the only weeper in a composition as, for exam-
ple, in the Braque Triptych (fig. 14.2). In this small triptych the right-hand
panel is devoted to an image of the weeping Magdalene with her long hair
flowing beneath her headdress and clad in richly appointed contemporary
garments. Tears roll down her cheeks as she holds her primary attribute,
the jar of ointment. Through imitation, the beholder might anticipate a
similarly tactile visionary experience.
The Audience for Tears
At the bottom of Jan van Ecyk’s composition of the Crucifixion (fig. 14.3)
we are presented a group of mourners, chief among them Saint John, the
Virgin Mary and the Magdalene, each of whom acts out their part in the
drama. The Virgin has collapsed and is being consoled by Saint John. Facing
28 PL 171, col. 677, cited in Jansen, Making, 239.

29 Jansen, “Mary Magdalen and the Mendicants,” 5.
30 Translated in Jansen, Making, 231; see also Nicole Bériou, “La Madeleine dans les
sermons parisiens du XIIIe siècle,” Mélanges de l’Ecole Française de Rome, Moyen Age 104/1
(1992): 269–340, esp. 332.
31 Anonymous of Marseille, MS BAV Borgh. 138, f. 144v; Repertorium der lateinischen Ser-
mones des Mittelalters für die Zeit von 1150–1350, ed. Johannes Baptist Schneyer (Beiträge zur
Geschichte der Philosophie und Theologie des Mittelalters 43), vol. 9 (Münster-Westfalen:
Aschemdorffsche, 1980), 96, translated in Jansen, Making, 205.
Fig. 14.2. Rogier van der Weyden, Triptych of the Braque Family, Right panel:
Mary Magdalene, c. 1452, right wing. Musée du Louvre, Paris. Photo: Scala/Art
Resource, NY.
away from the gruesome scene, she leans heavily on John, and curls inward
into a fetal position. She is all but obscured by a voluminous blue garment
from which only a small portion of her face is visible. Her grief is palpable
beneath the shroud. To the right of the Virgin is the visibly distraught
Magdalene. In contrast to the Virgin, she kneels, facing the scene of the
Crucifixion. The Magdalene gestures openly, her head thrown back and
372 vibeke olson
Fig. 14.3. Jan van Eyck (and workshop), Crucifixion, c. 1430, left wing of a diptych
depicting the Crucifixion and Last Judgment, oil on canvas transferred from wood,
56.5 × 19.7 cm. Fletcher Fund 1933 (33.92ab), The Metropolitan Museum of Art,
New York. Photo: Metropolitan Museum of Art/Art Resource, NY.
hands held forward and clasped in front of her. Her hair is unbound and
flows down her back, and she wears a fashionable green cloak trimmed
in fur at the hem, sleeves, neck and pocket. A red silk sleeve emerges
from the fur edging of her cloak. Presented as the antithesis of the humble
Virgin, the Magdalene is the worldly mourner, the repentant sinner; their
roles are clearly defined and distinguished via a codified visual language.
Visual imagery, therefore, could be an effective means for the clergy and
secular authorities to control women’s religious responses and re-confirm
prescribed societal gender roles,32 and the contrasting model of the weeping
Virgin and Magdalene was the perfect vehicle for this endeavor. Marina
Warner has shown that both the Virgin and the Magdalene typified medi-
eval Christian society’s attitudes toward women—as virgins or (penitent)
whores.33 The example of a virgin-mother, however, was a roadblock to
an ordinary woman’s salvation, a contradictory role model impossible to
emulate, so in these images she is contrasted with the penitent sinner,
the Magdalene lamenting her transgressions. As noted by Donna Spivey
Ellington these descriptions (and I would add images) of the weeping
Magdalene and Virgin as role models for Christian women’s behavior are
predictable and even stereotypical.34 By providing models to be imitated
in the form of a grieving virgin-mother and a repentant sinner, women’s
roles in medieval society were being dictated according to the views of
the church. According to Madeleine Caviness, medieval estates theory has
shown that women were classified by their virginity, chastity, or biological
motherhood,35 all of which were embodied in the representation of these
two women. Thus, the male gaze would find his ideal of woman embodied
in these two models, whereas the feminine gaze found role models to be
imitated in order to attain forgiveness and salvation.
Both men and women sinned; however, as it was predominantly men
who commissioned images and authored texts,36 it is not surprising
to find the stereotype of the penitent, chaste woman persisting. It was
32 See Joanna Ziegler, “Reality as Imitation: The Role of Religious Imagery among
Beguines of the Low Countries,” in Maps of Flesh and Light: The Religious Experience of
Medieval Women Mystics, ed. Ulrike Wiethaus (Syracuse, NY: Syracuse University Press,
1993), 112–26, esp. 113–14.
33 Marina Warner, Alone of All Her Sex: The Myth and the Cult of the Virgin Mary (New
York: Alfred A. Knopf, 1976), 225.
34 Ellington, “Impassioned Mother,” 232.
35 Madeleine H. Caviness, Visualizing Women in the Middle Ages: Sight, Spectacle, and
Scopic Economy (Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press, 2001), 2.
36 Ruth Mazo Karras, Common Women: Prostitutes and Sexuality in Medieval England
(Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1996), 103.
374 vibeke olson
through penance accompanied by abundant tears that women could find

salvation, following the example of the Magdalene whose post-conversion
chastity all but restored her virginal state.37 To reiterate this concept visu-
ally, the Magdalene is, on occasion, depicted in a manner that befits her
penitential status. We find an example of this in the left panel of Rogier’s
Vienna Crucifixion Triptych (fig. 14.4) where the Magdalene stands weeping
with her ointment jar, wearing a white wimple underneath a full-length
black veil; her dress is black and only a glimpse of her former sinful self is
revealed in the hint of red skirt peeking out beneath the black garment.
The tears that she wipes away with her veil were her salvation; through
them, her sins were expunged and her virtue restored.38
Following the model of the Magdalene, medieval women were directed
to repent, to weep for forgiveness and to mourn the loss of Christ who,
after all, sacrificed himself to reverse the sin brought about by a woman.
Directions for weeping are found in both Aelred’s Rule and the Medita-
tions discussed above, which were intended specifically for a female audi-
ence. This instruction for women’s piety appears to have been the norm
as exemplified in a sermon written by William Melton and preached by
Nicholas Philipp in 1431, in which women in the congregation were called
on to meditate on the Virgin’s sorrow over the death of her son.39 Direc-
tives for tears intended for women, although perhaps meant to encour-
age repentance and passive compassionate behavior, served ultimately
to empower the very populace they sought to control through the grant-
ing of unmediated and direct experiences with the divine, following the
example of the Magdalene. According to scripture, Mary Magdalene was
inclined to weep40 and according to medieval scientific treatises, women in
general were predisposed to weeping; therefore, they were “more inclined
to enter the salvific state of contrition.”41 The Magdalene’s tears were
understood to be tears of contrition and the means by which absolution
37 On the concept of the Magdalene’s renewed virginity, see Jansen, Making, 240–
44, and 291–94. Not surprisingly, in his Prayers and Meditations, Anselm of Canterbury
included “A Lament for Virginity Unhappily Lost,” (Meditation 2) in Ward, The Prayers and
Meditations of St. Anselm, 225–29.
38 For a discussion on the weeping Virgin of the central panel, see Barbara G. Lane, The
Altar and the Altarpiece: Sacramental Themes in Early Netherlandish Painting (New York:
Harper & Row, 1984), 85–86.
39 For the full text of the sermon, see Andrew Little, Franciscan Papers, Lists and Docu-
ments (Manchester: Manchester University Press, 1943), 244–56, cited in Atkinson, Mystic
and Pilgrim, 144.
40 Luke 7:36–50; John 11:1–44 and 20:11–18 cited in Jansen, Making, 207.
41 Jansen, Making, 210.
Fig. 14.4. Rogier van der Weyden, Saint Mary Magdalen, left panel of the Cruci-
fixion Triptych, c. 1440. Kunsthistorisches Museum, Vienna. Photo: Nimatallah/
Art Resource, NY.
376 vibeke olson
and witness were granted. If the Magdalene, as the beata peccatrix, was
rewarded through her contrition by the expiation of her sins and the first
glimpse of the risen Christ, it stands to reason that a tearful, penitent imi-
tator might receive a similar reward—a soul cleansed of sin and perhaps
even her own mystical encounter with the divine.
The Mystical Tradition
Paralleling devotional literature written by men, writings by women in the

medieval mystical tradition exhibit much the same pattern of behavior—
weeping, wailing, and a passionate desire to share in the Marys’ emotions.
Their visionary experiences express their desire to suffer as the Marys
through contemplations and visions of the Passion of Christ, and their
compassion is expressed through fits of pain, weeping, and a plethora of
flowing tears. Indeed, Margery Kempe, who identified strongly with the
penitent Magdalene was told by Christ “. . . daughter I have ordained you
to be a mirror among them [the people], to have great sorrow so that they
should take example by you in order to have some little sorrow in their
hearts for their sins so that they might through it be saved . . .”42 Margery
also sorrowed so for the Virgin’s loss, and was told in a conversation she
had with Christ, “When you weep and mourn for my pain and for my pas-
sion, then you are a true mother to have compassion of her child.”43 She
wept for Christ’s sufferings, she wept in imitation of and for the Virgin’s
sorrow and she wept in imitation of the Magdalene.44 Thus tears were a
form of imitatio, and by extension, were the sign of a true participatory
experience.
Many of the female mystics wept often and uncontrollably. Among
them, Mary of Oignies (1176–1213) left a veritable flood of tears wherever
she went, “. . . such plenteous tears were forced out by the weight of your
cross in your passion that they flowed copiously down onto the church
floor and showed where she had walked.”45 Her tears flowed effortlessly
42 Staley, The Book of Margery Kempe, Book I, chapter 78, p. 136. See also, Meech and
Allen, The Book of Margery Kempe, Book I, chapter 78: 13–16, 186.
43 Staley, The Book of Margery Kempe, Book I, chapter 14, 24.
44 Ellen M. Ross, “Spiritual Experience and Women’s Autobiography: The Rhetoric of
Selfhood in The Book of Margery Kempe,” Journal of the American Academy of Religion 59/
no. 3 (1991): 536.
45 Mary of Oignies, The Life of Saint Mary of Oignies, Book I, chapter 5, in Medieval
Writings on Female Spirituality, ed. Elizabeth Spearing (New York: Penguin Books, 2002),
90. For the full text of Mary’s Life, see, Two Lives of Mary de Oignies by Jacques de Vitry
and abundantly, “Water flowed continually from her eyes by day and
night, and the tears did not just wet her cheeks—to stop them falling to
the ground where people would see them, she used veils with which she
covered her head to soak them up. She used many such linen cloths and
needed to change them often, so that while one was getting wet, another
might be drying.”46 Others included Saint Gertrude (1256–1301/2) whose
tears were collected by Christ himself in a golden cup;47 Saint Bridget
(1301–1373) who, weeping and wailing, was shown by Christ how he died
on the cross;48 Dorothy of Montau (1347–1394) who wept and sobbed
sometimes 3–10 hours continuously;49 and of course, Margery Kempe
whose anguished fits of weeping are legendary.50 Thus it was through a
veil of tears that women mystics manifested their visions in imitation of
the late medieval models of the Magdalene and the Virgin Mary: suffering,
sorrowful and compassionate.
The loca sancta and the Pilgrim’s Response
Expressing compassion for Christ’s Passion and the sorrowing of the Marys
through a flood of tears was not solely limited to mystics. Pilgrims who
traveled to the Holy Land to see and touch51 the places Christ himself saw
and Thomas de Cantimpré, trans. Margot H. King and Hugh Feiss OSB (Toronto: Peregrina
Publishing, 1998).
46 Spearing, Medieval Writings, 91. There is an evident connection in this passage
between tears and menstrual blood that warrants further investigation.
47 Emile Mâle, L’art réligieux de la fin de la Moyen-Age en France, 5th edition (A. Colin:
Paris, 1949), 87.
48 Saint Bridget of Sweden, Liber Celestis, Book VII, chapter 16, in Spearing, Medieval
Writings, 154.
49 Susan Haskins, Mary Magdalen: Myth and Metaphor (New York: Harcourt Brace &
Co., 1993), 188. For the full text of Dorothy’s Life, see Johannes von Marienwerder, The
Life of Dorothea von Montau, a Fourteenth-Century Recluse, trans. Ute Stargardt (Lewiston:
Edwin Mellen Press, 1997).
50 The volume of literature on Margery’s crying is almost as abundant as her tears. See,
among others: Santha Bhattacharji, “Tears and Screaming: Weeping in the Spirituality of
Margery Kempe,” in Patton and Stratton, Holy Tears, 229–41; Ellen Ross, “ ‘She Wept and
Cried Right Loud for Sorrow and for Pain’: Suffering, the Spiritual Journey, and Women’s
Experience in Late medieval Mysticism,” in Wiethaus, Maps of Flesh and Light, 45–59;
Dhira B. Mahoney, “Margery Kempe’s Tears and the Power over Language,” in Margery
Kempe: A Book of Essays, ed. Sandra J. McEntire (New York: Garland, 1992), 37–50; McEn-
tire, “Walter Hilton and Margery Kempe: Tears and Compunction,” in Mysticism: Medieval
and Modern, ed. Valerie M. Lagorio (Salzburg: Institut für Anglistik und Amerikanistik,
Universität Salzburg, 1986 ), 49–57; and Atkinson, Mystic and Pilgrim.
51 Paulinus of Nola (354–431), for instance, recounts that the desire to “see and touch”
was the main reason for pilgrimage to Jerusalem (Epistles 49:402) in Simon Coleman and
378 vibeke olson
and touched often responded with a flood of tears. Once again, we find an
enduring tradition of response beginning with the early Christian pilgrims
such as the fourth century nun, Egeria, and Saint Jerome (c. 347–420),
through Margery Kempe and beyond. In her writings, Egeria catalogued
the movements and responses of pilgrims during the Holy Week liturgies
in Jerusalem. She recounted the events of Good Friday. At Gethsemane,
“. . . they have an appropriate prayer, a hymn, and then a reading from
the Gospel about the Lord’s arrest. By the time it has been read everyone
is groaning and lamenting and weeping so loud that people even across
the city can probably hear it all.”52 She continued in the courtyard of
the Holy Sepulchre, “It is impressive to see the way all the peoples are
moved by [the] readings and how they mourn. You could hardly believe
how every single one of them weeps during these three hours, young
and old alike, because of the manner in which the Lord suffered for us.”53
Saint Jerome, writing about his travel companion, Paula, noted how her
tears and lamentations were known to all Jerusalem.54 Friar Felix Fabri
(c. 1441–1502), in response to witnessing the behavior of pilgrims at the
Holy Sepulchre wrote, “O my brother! Hadst thou been with me in that
court at that hour, thou wouldst have seen such plenteous tears, such bit-
ter heartfelt groans, such sweet wailings, such deep sighs, such sobs from
the inmost breast . . . Above all our companions and sisters, the women
pilgrims shrieked as if in labour, cried aloud and wept.”55
Margery Kempe, much to the embarrassment of her travel companions,
reacted no less dramatically than we would expect of her: at Calvary, “she
fell down so that she might not stand or kneel but wallowed and twisted
with her body, spreading her arms abroad, and cried with a loud voice
as though her heart should have burst asunder, for in the city of her soul
she saw verily and freshly how our Lord was crucified. Before her face she
John Elsner, Pilgrimage Past and Present in the World Religions (Cambridge: Harvard Uni-
versity Press, 1995), 84.
52 Egeria’s Travels, 3rd edition, trans. John Wilkinson (Warminster: Aris & Phillips Ltd.,
1999), 154.
53 Egeria’s Travels, 56.
54 Saint Jerome, Letter 108, To Eustochium, memorials of her mother Paula, cited in Dee
Dyas, Pilgrimage in Medieval English Literature 700–1500 (Cambridge: D.S. Brewer, 2001),
140–41. For the full letter, see The Principle Works of St. Jerome, trans. W.H. Freemantle, in
The Nicene and Post Nicene Fathers of the Christian Church, vol. VI, ed. Philip Schaff (New
York: J.J. Little & Co., 1893), 195–212.
55 Friar Felix Fabri, The Book of Wanderings, in Dyas, Pilgrimage in Medieval English
Literature, 140–141. See also, The Book of the Wanderings of Felix Fabri (Circa 1480–1483 A.D.),
2 vols., trans. Aubrey Stewart (London: Palestine Pilgrims’ Text Society, 1896).
heard and saw in her ghostly sight the mourning of our Lady, of Saint John
and Mary Magdalene . . . And she had so great compassion and so great
pain to see our Lord’s pain that she might not keep herself from crying
and roaring though she should have died from it.”56 Margery sums up the
pilgrims’ experience in her commentary: she touched, she reacted, she
saw and she empathized. By extension, an event that occurred outside of
her own immediate time-frame was called to memory through a visual
cue, in this case the tomb of Christ. The intangible was made tangible
through the experience of being there.
Achieving the State of Being There
Being there, however, was not always an option. For most women, a phys-
ical pilgrimage to Jerusalem was near impossible. For those who wished
to travel to the holy sites, but were prevented in some way from doing so,
a substitute was needed, and images and devotions may have provided a
means to that end.57 In the Meditations, for example, Flora Lewis noted,
“. . . the reader is encouraged to insert herself as observer and actor in the
scene, and to speak to the protagonists. She may receive an answer or a
blessing in return, and this reciprocal possibility is an important part of
the meditative process which links this more accessible practice with the
experience of visionaries.”58 This same type of reciprocity is present in
images. In such cases, the image of Christ’s Passion with the emotionally
56 Staley, The Book of Margery Kempe, Book I, chapter 29, 50. On Margery’s experiences
in the Holy Land, see also, Hope Phyllis Wiessman, “Margery Kempe in Jerusalem: Hyste-
ria Compassio in the Late Middle Ages,” in Acts of Interpretation: The Text in its Contexts
700–1600, ed. M.J. Carruthers and E.D. Kirk (Norman: Pilgrim Press, 1982), 201–17.
57 For examples of virtual and imagined journeys, see Daniel K. Connolly, “Imagined
Pilgrimage in the Itinerary Maps of Matthew Paris,” Art Bulletin 81/no. 4 (1999): 598–622;
Connolly, “At the Center of the World: The Labyrinth Pavement of Chartres Cathedral,”
in Art and Architecture of Late Medieval Pilgrimage in Northern Europe and the British
Isles, ed. S. Blick and R. Tekippe (Leiden: Brill, 2005), 285–314; Leigh Ann Craig, Wander-
ing Women and Holy Matrons: Women as Pilgrims in the Later Middle Ages (Leiden: Brill,
2009), esp. 240–60; Kathryn M. Rudy, “A Guide to Mental Pilgrimage: Paris, Bibliothèque
de L’Arsenal Ms. 212,” Zeitschrift für Kunstgeschichte 63/no. 4 (2000): 494–515; Rudy, “A
Virtual Pilgrimage for Holy Week at a Netherlandish Birgittine Monastery around 1500,”
700 Years of Birgittine Spirituality and Culture. Birgittiana 1 (2006): 313–23; and the exam-
ples in Jonathan Sumption, Pilgrimage, An Image of Medieval Religion (Totowa: Rowman &
Littlefield, 1972), 295–302.
58 Flora Lewis, “The Wound in Christ’s Side and Instruments of the Passion: Gendered
Experience and Response,” in Women and the Book: Assessing the Visual Evidence, ed. Jane
H.M. Taylor and Lesley Smith (London and Toronto: The British Library and University of
Toronto Press, 1997), 209.
380 vibeke olson
Fig. 14.5. Geertgen tot Sint Jans, Lamentation over the Dead Christ (with Golgotha
in the background), inner side of the right wing of the Saint Johns Altarpiece
painted for the Johanniter Monastery, Haarlem, Netherlands, 1484, tempera on
oakwood, 175 × 139 cm. Kunsthistorisches Museum, Vienna. Inv. 991. Photo: Erich
Lessing/Art Resource, NY.
charged reactions of those who mourned him was not just a simulacrum
of the real thing or a model to be imitated; rather it acted as a vehicle by
which the beholder herself was transported there on a virtual journey, to
the scene taking place. In Geertgen tot Sint Jans’ Lamentation (fig. 14.5) all
of the elements necessary for a virtual pilgrimage are described clearly for
the beholder. The white burial shroud highlights Christ’s dead body and
his wounds are plainly visible. In the foreground of the composition are the
crown of thorns and three nails. These, together with Christ’s discernible
side wound, refer to the Arma Christi, and are included as devotional aids;
props in the drama the viewer is to reconstruct, remember and participate
in. The hill of Golgotha with its three crosses and the tomb of Christ fram-
ing the Magdalene’s ointment jar set the scene, and the main characters
of the drama are included. Among them the Virgin Mary in her blue robes
mourns behind the body of her dead son, and the Magdalene, dressed in a
sumptuous contemporary kirtle mourns in the left foreground, closest to
the spectator. All that remains is for the beholder to respond and to insert
herself into the scene as one of the active participants.59
As noted by John Renard, “One becomes a part of what one contem-
plates, so that to see is virtually the same as ‘being there’ whether ‘there’
is an actual location or a spiritual state.60 He continues on, “Meditation
on some images can virtually substitute for some other ritual in which the
devotee is unable to participate in person. Such devices in effect bring the
goal of pilgrimage to the pilgrim . . .”61 We see this with the experiences of
Margery Kempe. For Margery, her response to seeing an image of the Pietà
was as real to her as her experience of actually visiting Christ’s tomb. In
both cases she experienced a powerful and immediate association with
the event of Christ’s death and the suffering and sorrow of the Marys, and
her response to each was the same, tears of compassion and tremendous
sorrow, which aided the transformative experience.62
Responses to visions of Christ’s sufferings and the Marys’ sorrows,
whether those visions take the form of imagined scenarios, remembered
experiences, or painted images, appear to be most powerful when accom-
panied by tears that transport the faithful into a state of being there. This
idea is confirmed by the experience of Christina of Markyate in whose
Life (c. 1160) is recounted the following, “After [the] vision, she awoke and
59 It was also not uncommon to include supplicants in the scene, as in the central panel
of Rogier’s Vienna Crucifixion, to name one example of many, in which the patrons are
seen kneeling in prayer at the foot of the cross.
60 John Renard, “Picturing Holy Places: On the use of Architectural Themes in Orna-
ment and Icon,” Religion and the Arts 5/no. 4 (2001): 414.
61 Renard, “Picturing Holy Places,” 421.
62 According to Jeffrey Hamburger, any work of art had the capability of prompting a
vision, see: Hamburger, “The Visual and the Visionary: Art and Female Spirituality in Late
Medieval Germany,” Viator 20 (1989): 161–82, especially 172–74 where he discusses Marga-
reta Ebner’s (c. 1291–1348/51) visions of the “loving soul” which appeared to her “as she is
painted”, and Gertrude of Helfta’s vision of light emanating from the scene of a crucifixion.
Additionally, there is the story of Bernard of Clairvaux who, praying before a statue of
the Virgin Mary, saw her come to life and then received three drops of her milk on his
lips (see Brian Patrick McGuire, The Difficult Saint: Bernard of Clairvaux and his Tradition
(Kalamazoo: Cistercian Publications, 1991), 196–202).
382 vibeke olson
found her pillow wet with tears, so that she was convinced that as the
tears she dreamed she had shed were real, so were the rest of the things
she had dreamed.”63 I would argue, then, that the emotional and tear-
laden response to an image of the suffering Christ and the lamentations
of the two Marys had the potential to become an empowering devotional
experience; a channel for imaginary pilgrimage or perhaps even a mystical
vision in which the beholder had a direct experience with the divine. In
this way, the beholder not only imitates and empathizes with the Marys,
she is rewarded by sharing in their experience of beholding and caressing
the body of Christ as a participant in the drama taking place before her,
and, as a result of her tears, perhaps she too will be told, “Your sins are
forgiven. . . . Your faith has saved you; go in peace.” (Luke 7:48; 50)
63 Christina of Markyate, “The Life of Christina of Markyate,” C.H. Talbot, trans., in

Spearing, Medieval Writings, 28. Christina’s tears were a recurrent vehicle for her mystical
experiences: “. . . once when she was at prayer and was shedding tears through her longing
for heaven, she was suddenly rapt above the clouds even to heaven, where she saw the
Queen of Heaven sitting on a throne . . .” Spearing, Medieval Writings, 29. For the full text
of Christina’s Life see, The Life of Christina of Markyate: A Twelfth-Century Recluse, C.H.
Talbot, trans. and ed. (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1987).
chapter fifteen
Mary Magdalene and the Iconography of Domesticity
Annette LeZotte
In the early years of the sixteenth century the Master of the Female Half-
Lengths flooded the Antwerp art market with small-scale devotional
images representing a well-dressed young woman placed against an Eyck-
ian style domestic setting (fig. 15.1).1 While at first glance the female fig-
ure depicted in these panels appears to be an ordinary aristocratic young
woman, the conspicuous placement of an unguent jar in each picture pro-
claims her true identity: this elegantly coiffed and expensively adorned
woman is Mary Magdalene.2 Devotional images such as these, which cast
Mary Magdalene in sophisticated guises and placed her in contempo-
rary Flemish homes, visualize how late medieval and early Renaissance
perceptions of the theological significance of Mary Magdalene changed
dramatically and how new understandings of her character, virtues or
vices evolved.3 In particular, Mary Magdalene came to be understood or
promoted as the “new Mary” and theatrical and metaphorical references
to the Magdalene promoted this idea. Artists responded by represent-
ing Mary Magdalene in modes previously reserved for depictions of the
Virgin Mary. In particular, the cozy domestic interior which traditionally
framed Early Netherlandish images of the Annunciation or the Virgin and
1 The most comprehensive compilation of examples of these Mary Magdalene paintings

attributed to the Master of the Female Half-Lengths can be found in volume 12 of Max J.
Friedländer, Early Netherlandish Painting, 14 vols. (Brussels: Éditions de la Connaissance,
1967–76). For a discussion of the art market in early sixteenth-century Antwerp see Dan
Ewing, “Marketing Art in Antwerp, 1460–1560: Our Lady’s Pand,” Art Bulletin 72 (December
1990): 558–84. For a discussion of the employment of Eyckian or deliberately archaistic
styles by early sixteenth-century artists see From Van Eyck to Bruegel: Early Netherlandish
Painting in The Metropolitan Museum of Art, ed. Maryan W. Ainsworth and Keith Chris-
tiansen (New York: Metropolitan Museum of Art, 1998), 319.
2 For a discussion of the iconographical significance of the presence of the unguent jar
in depictions where the Magdalene is luxuriously clothed see Mary Pardo, “The Subject of
Savoldo’s Magdalene,”Art Bulletin 71 (March 1989): 70.
3 Multiple (presumably devotional) images of Mary Magdalene placed within a domes-
tic setting were produced in the early sixteenth century not only by the workshop of the
Master of the Female Half-Lengths in Antwerp but also by the Bruges workshops of Adri-
aen Isenbrandt and Ambrosius Benson.
384 annette lezotte
Fig. 15.1. Master of the Female Half-Lengths, Mary Magdalene, early 16th century,
oil on wood, 54 × 42 cm., Louvre, Paris. Photo: Gerard Blot, Réunion des Musées
Nationaux/Art Resource, NY.
mary magdalene and the iconography of domesticity 385
Child was increasingly employed as a backdrop for depictions of Mary

Magdalene.4 The application of the iconography of domesticity to rep-
resentations of the Magdalene reframed her character and heightened
awareness of her status as the “new Mary” during the late fifteenth and
early sixteenth centuries.
The Virgin Mary and the Iconography of Domesticity
Several recent studies have begun to critically examine the iconography of

domesticity and in particular have explored the links between the home
setting and devotion to the Virgin Mary. Both Reindert Falkenburg and
Jeanne Nuechterlein have proposed that placing devotional images of
the Madonna against domestic backdrops served to address the spiritual
needs and earthly connections of the worshippers who used the pictures
as part of their religious exercises.5 Falkenburg refers to a vernacular med-
itation manual written for members of the devotio moderna that employs
visualizations of the home as metaphors for preparing the soul for wor-
ship. He explains,
The text, which mentions the same kind of household utensils and furnish-
ings that are depicted in the bourgeois interior of the Merode Triptych, relates
how the dwelling in our heart should be cleaned, prepared, furnished, and
decorated, with the expectation that the Heavenly Bridegroom will inhabit
this ‘bridal suite.’ Individual objects and pieces of furniture are explained as,
or in relation to, desirable properties of the soul: these comprise a broom
and a wastebasket, for cleansing the soul; [and] a bundle of myrrh, to inspire
meditation on the sufferings of Christ . . . We should decorate this house
with sweet-smelling herbs and flowers and furnish it with a ‘bed of inner
peace,’ its mattress symbolizing devout submission and a pillow, devout
hope; two clean white sheets connoting compassion and a white cloth, true
belief; and, on top, a blanket, which ‘in its shape and form encompasses all
other virtues,’ representing love. There should also be a table, set to serve a
4 Annette LeZotte, The Home Setting in Early Netherlandish Paintings: A Statistical and
Iconographical Analysis of Fifteenth and Early Sixteenth Century Domestic Imagery (Lewis-
ton: Edwin Mellon Press, 2008), 108.
5 Reindert Falkenburg, “The Household of the Soul: Conformity in the Merode Trip-
tych,” in Early Netherlandish Painting at the Crossroads: A Critical Look at Current Method-
ologies, ed. Maryan Ainsworth (New York: Metropolitan Museum of Art, 2001), 2–17 and
Jeanne Nuechterlein, “The Domesticity of Sacred Space in the Fifteenth-Century Nether-
lands,” in Defining the Holy: Sacred Space in Medieval and Early Modern Europe, ed. Andrew
Spicer and Sarah Hamilton (London: Ashgate, 2005), 49–79.
386 annette lezotte
roast lamb of godly love, seasoned with the salt of spiritual modesty, and a
lit candle burning with love and desire for Christ.6
Nuechterlein views the link between domesticity and devotion to the Virgin
in much more concrete terms, arguing that depictions of the Madonna in a
home setting make her “visually equivalent to a contemporary family” and
that worshippers could better imitate the virtues of the Virgin through
their recognition of a common domestic lifestyle. She notes that the most
popular devotional manuals and theological writings from the later Middle
Ages promoted the idea of patterning one’s life after the behaviors of the
Virgin and Christ, and visual imagery facilitated this “imitatio” by referenc-
ing quotidian settings that would be recognized by the worshipper.7
Falkenburg and Nuechterlein’s studies of Marian images with domes-
tic settings provide some solid primary source support for the argument
that depictions of contemporary homes in religious works of art could be
understood as holy spaces by later medieval worshippers. What remains
unexplored and uncommented upon however, is how artists and theo-
logians began to translate the domestic iconography associated with the
Virgin Mary to another Mary: Mary Magdalene.8
Translating Domesticity
In a general religious context the word “translate” connotes the relocation

of relics; however, in the later Middle Ages, one particular “translation”
helped consolidate the understanding of domestic spaces as sacred and
became a significant part of pilgrimage rituals and artistic depictions. This
was the miraculous translation of the house of the Virgin Mary from a
small town in Yugoslavia to the city of Loreto in Italy, which occurred in
stages between 1291 and 1295.9 The historical functions of the Holy House
of Loreto embodied the juxtaposition of domestic and devotional as the
house was not only the home of the Virgin Mary but was also believed to
be the first church of the apostles.10 Artistic depictions of the Virgin of
6 Falkenburg, “The Household of the Soul: Conformity in the Merode Triptych,” 6.

7 Nuechterlein, “The Domesticity of Sacred Space in the Fifteenth-Century Nether-
lands,” 60.
8 To her credit, Nuechterlein hints at this in her article. See Nuechterlein, “The Domes-
ticity of Sacred Space in the Fifteenth-Century Netherlands,” 76.
9 Kathleen Weil-Garris, The Santa Casa di Loreto: Problems in Cinquecento Sculpture
(New York: Garland Publishing, 1977), 3.
10 Kathleen Weil-Garris Posner, “Cloister, Court and City Square,” Gesta 12: 1/2 (1973),
124.
Loreto emphasized the significance of the house-relic and fostered new

understandings of the role of the home as a locus of the sacred. One such
depiction, from the Church of San Giovanni Decollato, Venice (fig. 15.2)
sends a powerful message about domesticity as a humble house replaces
the Virgin’s throne in a compositional schema reminiscent of the Sedes
Sapiente. The Virgin is no longer enthroned within the home (as, for
example, in Jan van Eyck’s Lucca Madonna) (fig. 15.3) but supported by it.
As pilgrimage increased to the Holy House in Loreto throughout the later
Middle Ages and into the early Renaissance, the idea of the home as relic
fostered direct associations between the domestic and the sacred, commu-
nicating to worshippers the idea that religious experience can (and did)
permeate the traditionally secular sphere of the everyday household.11
The translation of relics during the Middle Ages usually involved the
actual physical movement of objects. However, translations could oper-
ate on a more metaphysical level with theological concepts or attributes
being moved from one spiritual being to another. This type of transla-
tion seems to have occurred during the later Middle Ages and the early
Renaissance as metaphorical understandings of the character of the Virgin
Mary began to shift to Mary Magdalene.12 This translation was both artic-
ulated by theologians and visualized in works of art. The tenth-century
theologian Odo of Cluny and the eleventh-century theologian Geoffrey of
Vendôme both preached on the connection between the Virgin Mary and
Mary Magdalene in terms of their shared roles in modeling redemption
from Eve’s original sin.13 Bernard of Clairvaux juxtaposed and interwove
the characters of the Virgin Mary and Mary Magdalene in his commen-
taries on the Song of Songs; and Humbert de Romans, thirteenth-century
vicar-general of the Dominican order (which was dedicated to promoting
devotion to the Virgin Mary) proclaimed that, “After the Virgin Mary, no
other woman in the world than the Magdalene was shown greater rever-
ence, or believed to have greater glory in heaven.”14
The transference of Marian attributes from the Madonna to the
Magdalene is evidenced in a number of works of art from the later
11 Weil-Garris Posner, “Cloister, Court and City Square,” 125.

12 This issue is discussed at length in chapter ten of Katherine Ludwig Jansen, The Mak-
ing of the Magdalen: Preaching and Popular Devotion in the Later Middle Ages (Princeton:
Princeton University Press, 2001), 286–306.
13 Magdalena Elizabeth Carrasco, “The Imagery of the Magdalen in Christina of
Markyate’s Psalter (St. Alban’s Psalter)” Gesta 38 (1990): 75.
14 Susan Haskins, Mary Magdalen: Myth and Metaphor (Old Saybrook: Konecky &
Konecky, 1993), 134.
388 annette lezotte
Fig. 15.2. Virgin atop the Holy House of Loreto with Saints, 17th century, Church of
San Giovanni Decollato, Venice. Photo: Cameraphoto Arte, Venice/Art Resource, NY.
Fig. 15.3. Jan van Eyck, Lucca Madonna, c. 1436. Städelsches Kunstinstitut,

Frankfurt. Photo: Foto Marburg/Art Resource, NY.
390 annette lezotte
Middle Ages. A Crucifix dated c. 1272–85 from the church of San Francesco
(fig. 15.4) depicts the three Marys on its apron with the Magdalene reach-
ing around to embrace (or perhaps assume?) the body of the Virgin Mary.
The nearly identical poses and emotional countenances between the Vir-
gin and the Magdalene in this composition create an explicit link between
the two. Likewise, the Master of the Strauss Madonna’s fourteenth-cen-
tury panel of The Man of Sorrows and the Symbols of the Passion (fig. 15.5)
presents the Virgin Mary and Mary Magdalene as almost mirror images of
each other with legs bent, right hands pulling Christ’s hands to their lips,
and left hands cradling Christ’s elbows. Their placement on the same level
at either side of Christ visually equalizes their status (although the Virgin
Mary is given the preferential location on Christ’s right side).
An early example of the translation of Marian attributes to Mary
Magdalene within a domestic-iconographical context can be found in the
fifteenth-century paintings of Robert Campin and Rogier van der Weyden.
The central panel of Robert Campin’s Merode Altarpiece (fig. 15.6) depicts
a classic image of the Madonna of Humility with the Virgin Mary shown
seated on the footrest of and leaning against a decidedly bourgeois bench,
reading a book.15 A decade later, Rogier van der Weyden would cast his
Mary Magdalene (presumably from the wing of an altarpiece) (fig. 15.7) in
the guise of Campin’s Virgin of Humility.16 Although it could be tempting
to suggest that this is the mere coincidence of a student copying his master
for the sake of convenience, the fact that most art historians agree Rogier’s
Magdalene fragment came from a larger altarpiece which also depicted
the Virgin Mary within its composition suggests that such a simple, formal
reason for the posture of the Magdalene is unlikely. John Ward’s proposed
reconstruction of the altarpiece which yielded the Magdalene fragment
shows a sacra conversazione taking place within a contemporary domestic
interior. The Virgin Mary, enthroned in the center of the composition, is
flanked by the two Saint Johns; and Mary Magdalene, reading in the right-
hand corner, is accompanied by a figure who both Ward and Martin Davies
15 For a discussion of the Madonna of Humility iconography and the Merode Altarpiece
as an example of the theme see Millard Meiss, “The Madonna of Humility,” Art Bulletin 28
(1936), 434–64 and Carol J. Purtle, “The Iconography of Campin’s Madonnas in Interiors:
A Search for Common Ground,” in Robert Campin: New Directions in Scholarship, ed. Susan
Foister and Susie Nash (Turnhout: Brepols, 1996), 171–82.
16 For a reconstruction of the altarpiece that originally incorporated this fragment see
John L. Ward, “A Proposed Reconstruction of an Altarpiece by Rogier van der Weyden,”Art
Bulletin 53/1 (March 1971): 27–35.
Fig. 15.4. Master of Saint Francis, Crucifix, c. 1272–85, tempera on poplar,

92.1 × 71 cm. National Gallery, London. Photo: National Gallery, London/Art
Resource, NY.
392 annette lezotte
Fig. 15.5. Master of the Strauss Madonna, The Man of Sorrows and the Symbols
of the Passion, 14th century. Accademia, Venice. Photo: Alinari/Art Resource, NY.
Fig. 15.6. Robert Campin, Merode Altarpiece, c. 1427, oil on wood, 64.5 × 117.8 cm.
Metropolitan Museum of Art, The Cloisters Collection, New York. Photo: Art
Resource, NY.
believe to be Saint Joseph.17 This grouping of figures, and the presentation

of Mary Magdalene in the mode of the Madonna of Humility, reflects
one of the theological character translations taking place during the
later Middle Ages and the early Renaissance: this was Mary Magdalene’s
17 Ward, “A Proposed Reconstruction of an Altarpiece by Rogier van der Weyden,” 27.

Fig. 15.7. Rogier van der Weyden, The Magdalene Reading, before 1438, oil on
mahogany transferred from another panel, 62.2 × 54.4 cm. National Gallery,
London. Photo: Art Resource, NY.
gradual assumption of the role of the “new Eve” from the Virgin.18 Mary
Magdalene, whose colorful and complex personal narratives had made
her an easily manipulated devotional figure throughout Christian history,
came to assume this mantle as Marian theology shifted to focus more on
the Madonna’s immaculate purity and less on her worldly being. Although
18 For an in-depth discussion of the Magdalene as the new Eve see Haskins, Mary
Magdalen: Myth and Metaphor, chapter 5.
394 annette lezotte
art historians have suggested that devotional images of the Holy Family
highlighted the Virgin Mary’s role as the redemptive “new Eve,” we need
to acknowledge that within the body of domestic imagery these depic-
tions are relatively rare.19
An interesting illustration of how Mary Magdalene could assume the
worldly features of the Virgin Mary in fifteenth-century domestic imag-
ery is found if we compare Petrus Christus’ Virgin and Child in a Domes-
tic Interior (fig. 15.8) and Rogier van der Weyden’s Magdalene fragment.20
Like the Merode Triptych, Christus’ picture of the Holy Family shows the
Virgin Mary as a pious wife and mother and Joseph as an industrious
and supportive father. Christus frames his Joseph within a doorway as he
crosses from the urban, mercantile sphere of the workplace to the sanctity
of the home. A similar rendering of the figure of Joseph is found in the
Magdalene fragment as he is presented in the same red robe with blue
cloak, walking stick in hand, and with his profile framed by the open win-
dow. However, while both Christus’ and van der Weyden’s Josephs inhabit
a mediating realm between the sacred-domestic and the urban-secular
worlds, and while both dwell in a space occupied by the Virgin and Child,
the character of the relationship between the triad of the Holy Family is
different in the two depictions. Christus’ Virgin, through her humble posi-
tion seated close to the ground and the presentation of her tottering son,
is the new Eve who has redeemed mankind and models this on earth.21
Conversely, in Rogier van der Weyden’s image, the enthroned Madonna
implies a figure who is more removed from the earth; one whose connec-
tion to the worshipper is loftier and more spiritual than Christus’ Virgin.
Instead, the “down-to-earth” redeemer offered as exemplar to the every-
day worshipper is Mary Magdalene, whose status as the Marian new Eve
is emphasized by her juxtaposition with the figure of Joseph. The cult of
Joseph grew and flourished during the fifteenth century, and he became
19 For a discussion of the Virgin Mary as the new Eve see Cynthia Hahn, “Joseph will
Perfect, Mary Enlighten, and Jesus Save Thee: The Holy Family as Marriage Model in the
Merode Triptych,”Art Bulletin 68/1 (March 1986): 54–66.
20 I acknowledge that Christus’ painting was completed after van der Weyden’s (the
Christus panel is dated c. 1460–70 while the Magdalene fragment is dated c. 1445) and my
argument is not intended to suggest that at this point in time Mary Magdalene “replaces” the
Virgin Mary in Holy Family images, rather, dependent upon the patronage and devotional
context of the imagery the Magdalene could assume the traditional roles and understand-
ings of the Virgin Mary in these iconographical schema.
21 The various iconographical readings of Christus’ Virgin and Child in a Domestic Inte-
rior are summarized in Maryan W. Ainsworth, Petrus Christus: Renaissance Master of Bru-
ges (New York: Metropolitan Museum of Art, 1994), 173–74.
Fig. 15.8. Petrus Christus, Virgin and Child in a Domestic Interior, c. 1460, Nelson-
Atkins Museum, Kansas City. Photo: Nelson-Atkins Museum.
396 annette lezotte
a role model for Renaissance family values and their redemptive power.22
Mary Magdalene, the fallen woman who redeemed herself, similarly came
to be understood as a more accessible, and, in the views of some theolo-
gians, a more appropriate figure to represent the “new Eve” for the late
medieval and early Renaissance worshipper.
Domestic Iconography and Urban Economy
Early fifteenth century depictions of Mary Magdalene within the domestic

setting largely consisted of images that placed her within the context of a
larger biblical or saintly narrative or in the devotional company of other
holy figures. In my opinion, this period represents a transitional phase
in the development of Magdalene domestic iconography as artists and
theologians constructed comparative images that created a devotional
dialogue that allowed for more complex understandings of the role of the
Magdalene in early Renaissance salvation. Towards the end of the cen-
tury, as worshippers came to associate Mary Magdalene with the redemp-
tive powers formerly ascribed to the Virgin, more independent images
of the Magdalene evolved showing her in a half-length close-up format,
elaborately dressed and coiffed, posed against cabinet pieces or windows
that identify the home setting, and delicately fingering a luxurious oint-
ment jar. She also frequently has a book by her or is reading one. Several
scholars have argued that these devotional panels of the Magdalene rep-
resent the beginnings of vanitas imagery, embodying the new spiritual
issues being confronted by those members of the middle class who were
becoming increasingly wealthy as a result of the flourishing urban-based
trade economy in Northern Europe. Some versions of Mary Magdalene’s
vita provided guidance for such worshippers, suggesting that she was born
into a prosperous family and yet managed to navigate her way to salvation
through penitent acts in the real world.23 As domesticity began to evolve
as a signifier of capitalist gain during the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries,
images of Mary Magdalene as the “new Mary/new Eve” offered devotional
models that addressed the concerns of a burgeoning urban, trade-based
22 For a good discussion of the rise of the cult of Joseph and its influence on the visual
arts see Meyer Schapiro, “Muscipula Diaboli: The Symbolism of the Merode Altarpiece,”
Art Bulletin 27/3 (September 1945): 182–87.
23 For a discussion of perceptions of the Magdalene as a vanitas figure see Haskins,
Mary Magdalen: Myth and Metaphor, chapter 8.
economy.24 For the Early Modern worshipper grappling with the issue of
how to practice Imitatio Christi while acquiring riches, Mary Magdalene
offered them a way to have their cake and eat it, too. Her ability to sin
and repent offered a more realistic example for the everyday worshipper
to follow, and the depiction of the Magdalene in domestic spaces fostered
the understanding that her sins were committed and forgiven in a world
akin to theirs.
24 Annette LeZotte, “Defining Domestic: An Examination of the Characteristics and

Functions of the Home Setting in Early Netherlandish Paintings,” Home Cultures 6/1
(March 2009): 5–17.
chapter sixteen
MARKETING Mary Magdalene in Early Modern Northern

European PRINTS AND PAINTINGS
Michelle Moseley-Christian
Two iconographic variations of the repentant Magdalene emerged and

became popular in northern European prints and small panel paintings
from about 1450 to 1550. The first of these variants featured the nude
saint in ecstasy elevated by angels over a rocky landscape. The second
version of the repentant Magdalene theme depicted the hermit as a nude
figure draped with long hair and seated on the earth in a panoramic land-
scape. While the devotional content of Magdalene imagery was certainly
important to its audience, this essay will undertake a new interpretive
approach to northern imagery of the saint by investigating how economic
concerns and market forces shaped the origins, iconographic develop-
ment, and appeal of the penitent Mary Magdalene in the fifteenth and
sixteenth centuries. The earliest appearance of the penitent Magdalene as
a full-length nude set in an articulated landscape became an alternative
to popular representations of her as a woman of luxury, wearing an elabo-
rate and expensive gown. New visual contexts for the penitent Magdalene
appeared largely in images that were produced for a wide range of buyers;
prints had an international scope of distribution and open markets gave
rise to new pictorial genres in the medium of painting. Mary Magdalene’s
popularity, the burgeoning taste for nudes, and the rise of landscape
encouraged artists to combine these elements to gain the greatest pos-
sible commercial advantage within the open market, an aspect of penitent
Magdalene imagery that has not been adequately explored.
Mary Magdalene as Courtly Courtesan in Medieval and Early

Modern Imagery
Some of the earliest visualizations of the Magdalene as an isolated figure

portray her as an aristocratic courtesan.1 Early fifteenth- and sixteenth-
1 See Larry Silver, The Paintings of Quentin Massys: with Catalogue Raisonné (Oxford:
Phaidon, 1984), chapter 6, note 117: “The best known fifteenth century appearance of the
400 michelle moseley-christian
century Flemish and Dutch paintings explored a novel approach to the

courtly Magdalene image by placing the figure in ever more highly evolved
landscapes, a format not as evident in Italian images of the Magdalene.2
Early modern representations of the nude penitent Magdalene adopted
a number of visual characteristics associated with the saint in these ear-
lier images, including her youth, the long hair that signifies her beauty,
the sexual appeal hinted at by her association with worldly excess, and the
emerging use of landscape in some northern versions of the courtly saint.
Mary Magdalene’s conversion and repentance, implied in images of her
as a courtesan and penitent, were elements of her literary and theological
identity that had been promoted by the Church since the twelfth century
and was officiated in the Fourth Lateran Council of 1215.3 Although late
medieval imagery frequently located Mary Magdalene within New Tes-
tament themes such as the Lamentation, scenes that depicted moments
from the Magdalene’s legendary and apocryphal narratives often focused
on iconography that evoked the saint’s past life as a prostitute with an
emphasis on the inspirational nature of her redemption.4 It was Pope
Gregory’s association of the saint with various biblical women, one of
whom was described as a prostitute that solidified her reputation as a
repentant prostitute.5 Informed by descriptions in apocryphal texts and
medieval literary romances of her aristocratic background, visual repre-
sentations of the saint reconstructed her as an alluring woman with a
saint is in the right wing of Rogier van der Weyden’s Braque Altarpiece (Louvre), where
she appears as one of several saintly intercessors for mankind. In the early sixteenth cen-
tury, a new emphasis on the beauty, rich attire and worldly life of the Magdalene pre-
vailed.” See also Shirley Blum, “The Jean Braque Altarpiece by Rogier van der Weyden”
Early Netherlandish Triptychs: A Study in Patronage (Berkeley: University of California
Press, 1969), 29–37.
2 See for example, the Penitent Mary Magdalene attributed to Cosimo Roselli or Biagio
d’Antonio, second half of the 15th century (Paris, Musée National du Moyen Age) as rep-
resentations of the saint with long hair completely covering her nudity. She is set in front
of a monochromatic blue background that has no individual landscape or panoramic
features but has the appearance of open sky. Images of Mary Magdalene in front of a
landscape include generalized outdoor scenes with little detail. See Luca Signorelli, Mary
Magdalene, 1504 (Orvieto, Museo dell’Opera del Duomo).
3 Homily XXXIII, PL LXXXVI, col. 1239 cited in Susan Haskins, Mary Magdalen: Myth
and Metaphor (London: Harper Collins, 1993), 136; Christopher L.C.E Witcombe, “The Cha-
pel of the Courtesan and the Quarrel of the Magdalens,” Art Bulletin 84 (2002): 280.
4 For essential descriptions of the Magdalene in medieval imagery, see Louis Réau,
Iconographie de l’Art Chrétien: Iconographie des Saintes, v. 2 (Paris: Presses Universitaires
de France, 1958), 857 and Joyce E. Salisbury, The Beast Within: Animals in the Middle Ages
(New York: Routledge, 1994), 157.
5 For Pope Gregory’s influence on the perception of Mary Magdalene, see the Introduc-
tion to this volume by Amy Morris and Michelle Erhardt.
marketing mary magdalene in european prints and paintings 401
lingering desire for material pleasure. In texts and images, she was trans-
formed into a version of an aristocratic courtesan.
Hymns and secular poems about the Magdalene’s sensual nature prolif-
erated in Germanic regions,6 notably the widely disseminated Der Saelden
Hort (Treasury of Blessings) c. 1300, a narrative relating a legendary tale
of Mary Magdalene’s supposed marriage to John the Evangelist and his
rejection of her as the critical event that led her to a life of prostitution.7
Among all other sources, the availability of Jacobus de Voragine’s thir-
teenth-century apocryphal Golden Legend most widely broadcast the per-
ception of Mary Magdalene as an aristocratic courtesan-type throughout
Europe. The devotional sourcebook effectively propagated the reputation
of the saint as a courtly woman by relating common belief in her royal
heritage and emphasizing her life as a pleasure-seeker: “when Magdalene
abounded in riches, and because delight is fellow to riches and abundance
of things; and so much as she shone in beauty greatly, and in riches, so
much the more she submitted her body to delight, and there fore she lost
her right name, and was called customably [sic] a sinner.”8
One of the most prevalent types of Magdalene images to emerge in
this period was the representation of her in half-length as an aristocratic
woman against a monochromatic background or set in a domestic inte-
rior, a context more thoroughly explored in Annette LeZotte’s essay on the
Magdalene and domestic iconography in this volume. Half-length images
of the Magdalene are characterized by sumptuous garments, referring to
her past life of indulgence. In these images she is often accompanied by
her attributes of an alabaster jar, book, or music-making instrument.9
Dutch master Jan van Scorel’s serene half-length Magdalene, c. 1530
(Amsterdam, Rijksmuseum) (fig. 16.1), is representative of the tradition of
portraying her as a courtly figure. In his image she is dressed in volumi-
nous pearl-encrusted fabrics and holds a jar with intricate surface details
6 Friedrich Otto Knoll, Die Rolle der Maria Magdalena in geistliche Spiel des Mittlealters
(Berlin: Walter de Grunter & Co., 1934), 47–8. See also Ingrid Maisch, Mary Magdalene:
Image of a Woman Through the Centuries, trans. Linda Mahoney (Collegeville: The Liturgi-
cal Press, 1988), 49.
7 Eva-Maria Adam von Rothenburg, Maria Magdalena in Geistlichen Spielen des Mit-
telalters (Zurich: Universität Zürich, 1996), 127–30.
8 Jacobus de Voragine, The Golden Legend, trans. Granger Ryan and Helmut Ripperger
(New York: Longmans, Green and Co, 1989), 355–64.
9 Friedländer states that this type more accurately derives from French court imagery.
Max Friedländer, Early Netherlandish Painting, vol. 12 (Leyden: Sijthoff, 1967), 19; See also
Hans Hansel, Die Maria Magdalena Legende (Greifswald: Dallmeyer, 1937), 120.
Fig. 16.1. Jan van Scorel, Mary Magdalene, c. 1530, oil on panel, 67 × 76.5 cm.
Rijksmuseum, Amsterdam. Photo: Rijksmuseum.
that echoes the complex patterns of her gown.10 The distinct feature of
Van Scorel’s painting that separates it from the early images of the same
genre is the addition of an open landscape in which the Magdalene sits, a
fairly recent pictorial development from Antwerp that is indicative of the
northern influence on this established theme.11
10 Pieter J.J. van Thiel, et al., All the Paintings of the Rijksmuseum (Amsterdam: Rijks-
museum, 1976), 512. Helen Verogstraete-Marcq “Jan van Scorel’s Mary Magdalene: Original
and Copy,” in La Peinture Ancienne et ses procédés: Copies, Répliques, Pastiches, (Leuven:
Uitgeverij Peeters, 2006), 151. Two paintings of the saint were also made by the highly
successful and influential Antwerp painter Quentin Massys (Paris, Louvre; Brussels, Royal
Museum of Fine Arts). Silver, The Paintings of Quentin Massys, 122.
11 For a complete discussion of Jan van Scorel, see Molly Ann Faries, “Jan van Scorel:
His Style and Its Historical Context” (PhD diss., Bryn Mawr College, 1972). Also Molly Ann
Faries and M. Wolff, “Landscape in the Early Paintings of Jan van Scorel,” Burlington Maga-
zine 88 (1996): 724–33.
Fig. 16.2. Lucas van Leyden, The Dance of Saint Mary Magdalene, 1519, engraving,
28.7 × 38.4 cm. Photo: Trustees of the British Museum.
From paintings to prints, landscape was as a prominent feature in early

modern imagery that was appropriated into Magdalene imagery. This
transformation is apparent in Lucas van Leyden’s unusual print The Dance
of Saint Mary Magdalene from 1519 (fig. 16.2).12 In The Dance, the richly
garbed figure of Mary Magdalene moves through a forest clearing among
clusters of well-dressed couples as they engage in the courtly pursuits of
hunting, music making, and conversation. The elite atmosphere of leisure
warned against certain kinds of luxurious behavior and commented on
the “frivolities of the contemporary nobility.”13 The foreground scene of the
“dance” opens into a broad receding landscape with a rocky outcropping
in the center left background. While the celebrations take place in the
grove-like foreground space, the small figure of Mary Magdalene is at the
same time shown in ecstasy in the distance, elevated by angels over the
12 Walter S. Gibson, Pleasant Places: The Rustic Landscape from Bruegel to Ruisdael
(Berkeley: University of California Press, 2000), 1–24; Adam Bartsch, Le Peintre graveur,
vol. 7 (Vienna: J.V. Degen, 1803), 122.
13 Peter Parshall, “Lucas van Leyden’s Narrative Style,” Nederlands Kunsthistorisch Jaar-
boek 29 (1979): 226–27.
mountain. Lucas omitted her customary attributes of the ointment jar or

book, but the saint retained her halo and the distinct figure in the back-
ground raised by miniscule angels is a form iconographically distinct
to the penitent Mary Magdalene.14 Leyden’s print is the earliest known
example to bridge representations of the saint’s life from its traditional
depiction of a worldly pleasure-seeker to an emerging ecstatic penitent
by compressing both narratives into a single landscape that includes both
forest in the foreground and rocky wilderness in the background.15 In this
way, the print reflects the artist’s interest in encompassing a variety of
themes in one picture and combining it with landscape as a possible mar-
keting strategy to increase the print’s appeal for potential buyers.16
The Dance was one of Leyden’s largest, most technically complex, and
visually elaborate engravings, suggesting that it was a relatively expen-
sive print.17 According to Karel van Mander’s biography of Lucas van
Leyden included in the 1604 Schilderboek (Painting Book), the Magdalene
print sold during the printmaker’s lifetime for the high price of a guilder,
which was testimony to the demand for this unprecedented version of
the courtly Magdalene theme.18 The engraving was printed in three states,
further evidence that The Dance of Saint Mary Magdalene must have been
14 Lucas also produced an engraving of the Magdalene hovering above clouds in rich
garments, known as St. Mary Magdalene in the Clouds (B124), 1518, See F.W.H. Hollstein,
Dutch and Flemish Engravings and Woodcuts 1450–1700, vol. 10 (Amsterdam: Menno Hertz-
berger, 1949–54), 146.
15 Parshall, “Lucas van Leyden’s Narrative Style,” 226–27.
16 For an overview of the way prints were used, marketed, and distributed see Ilja Veld-
man, Images for the Eye and Soul: Function and Meaning in Netherlandish Prints 1450–1650
(Leiden: Primavera Pers, 2006); Chandra Mukerji, ‘Pictorial Prints and the Growth of Con-
sumerism: Class and Cosmoplitanism in Early Modern Culture,’ Consumption: Critical Con-
cepts in the Social Sciences, ed. Daniel Miller (New York: Routledge, 2001), 111–13; See also
for primary documents on how widely Lucas’ prints were distributed and known: Kayo
Hirakawa, The Pictorialization of Dürer’s Drawings in Northern Europe in the Sixteenth and
Seventeenth Centuries (Bern: Peter Lang, 2009), 63–66.
17 The print is 28.7 × 38.4 cm. Cost was usually based on size of the print, and not on
the artist’s labor. See David Landau and Peter Parshall, The Renaissance Print: 1470–1550,
(New Haven: Yale University Press, 1994), 353; See also Ellen S. Jacobowitz and Stephaie
Loeb Stepanek, The Prints of Lucas van Leyden and His Contemporaries (Washington D.C.:
National Gallery of Art, 1983), 192.
18 Karel van Mander, Het Schilder-Boek, 1604 (Utrecht: Davaco Publishers, 1969) fol.
212r, “Oock hebben zijn printen in den selven zijnen tijt redelijcken ghegolden: want zijn
beste dinghen de groote blaren/ als die alder alder uytnemenste Magdalena, Crucifix, Ecce
Homo, Drie Koningen en dergelijcke golden eenen gout gulden oft 28 stuyvers het stuck.”;
R. Vos, “The Life of Lucas van Leyden by Karel van Mander,” Nederlands Kunsthistorisch
Jaarboek 29 (1978): 466–67, 489–90 and Bart Cornelis and Jan Piet Filedt Kok, “The Taste
for Lucas van Leyden Prints” Simiolus, 26/1–2 (1998): 21.
a very popular print with significant appeal.19 The success of Lucas’s large-
scale Magdalene print and the significant number of half-length panel pic-
tures of the Magdalene exemplified by Van Scorel, among many others,
strongly suggests that there was an eager audience for printed and painted
pictures of Mary Magdalene in northern markets.
Pictures on the open market were produced on speculation for poten-
tial buyers, a system that resulted in a high degree of pictorial specializa-
tion by artists who competed to sell images by choosing subjects with
proven appeal.20 As Larry Silver observed, market forces acted in a man-
ner similar to that of natural selection by promulgating themes with sell-
ing power and eventually eliminating those without.21 Emerging themes
in the fifteenth century appear to have responded to an established con-
sumer demand for Mary Magdalene as a subject in the visual arts that
had been successful in a competitive market.22 Jan van Scorel’s and Lucas
van Leyden’s images of the Magdalene provide two examples of the popu-
larity of Magdalene imagery during the early sixteenth century in paint-
ings and prints. Additionally, they absorbed new motifs engendered by
market competition. While the established northern depiction of Mary
Magdalene as a woman of sensual indulgence is easily recognizable, both
artists supplement the expected courtesan type with the novel develop-
ment of landscape as a substantial and integrated aspect of the picture.
In Lucas’s case, a further addition of the ecstatic Magdalene in the dis-
tant background of The Dance of Saint Mary Magdalene provides an early
example of the elevated saint, a motif that developed simultaneously as
an independent theme in the visual arts.
Mary Magdalene’s Cultural Presence
Northern artists diversified Magdalene imagery in the early sixteenth cen-

tury to include the elevation and the wilderness penitent as distinct visu-
alizations of other episodes not pictured among narratives from the life
19 Hollstein, Dutch and Flemish Engravings and Woodcuts 1450–1700, v. 10, 144; Jan Piet
Filedt Kok, et al., The New Hollstein Dutch and Flemish Etchings, Engravings and Woodcuts
1450–1700: Lucas van Leyden (Rotterdam: Sound and Vision Interactive, 1996), 122.
20 For the Antwerp market, see Elizabeth Honig, Painting & the Market in Early Modern
Antwerp (New Haven: Yale University Press, 1998).
21 Larry Silver, Peasant Scenes and Landscapes: The Rise of Pictorial Genres in the Antwerp
Art Market (Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press, 2006), 4–6.
22 For allusions to stiff market competition for printmakers in contemporary letters,
see Hirakawa, 65.
of the Magdalene.23 In northern prints and paintings the converted saint

as a contrite penitent emerged in principally two formats: the nude Mary
Magdalene in ecstasy, elevated by angels over a rocky landscape and the
nude Magdalene sitting on the earth in a forest, or wilderness, landscape.
The rather sudden appearance of these images coincided with an upswing
in Mary Magdalene’s popularity that had been steadily increasing since
the twelfth century, attributed to Pope Gregory’s homily for the Fourth
Lateran Council of 1215 that singled out the saint’s redemption from sexual
sin for particular praise.24 In the following centuries throughout northern
Europe, Mary Magdalene occupied a place of importance beginning with
numerous passion plays that were frequently performed. Jean Michel’s
Mystère de la Passion from 1493, cited as a popular example in Antwerp,
and other plays advertising the benefits of penitence were performed
around Germany.25 Many devotional books dedicated to Mary Magdalene
were printed in Antwerp for regional distribution, including the c. 1575
book Hier begint die bekeeringe van Maria Magdalena der heyliger vrou-
wen als Isidorius beschrĳft (Here begins the conversion of Mary Magdalene
the sacred woman as described by Isidorius). Books in Italian were also
printed for international distribution.26 In addition to her presence in
devotional texts, Mary Magdalene was also on the mind of humanist intel-
lectuals who participated in a discussion from 1517 until 1525 known as
“la querelle.” This argument deconstructed Gregory’s conflation of Mary
Magdalene with other scriptural figures and consisted of almost twenty
tracts.27 Moreover, Luther and Erasmus made reference to the Magdalene
as a moral exemplar.28 In other words, Mary Magdalene was a highly vis-
ible figure in religious and lay circles with a well-established audience and
23 For a reference to the elevation in northern art, see Peter Parshall “Lucas van Ley-
den’s Narrative Style,” Nederlands Kunsthistorisch Jaarboek 29 (1978): 236.
24 See note 3.
25 Cornelia van den Wildenberg-de Kroon, Das Weltleben und die bekehrung der Maria
Magdalena im Deutschen Religiösen Drama und in der Bildenden kunst des mittlealters
(Tilburg: Rodopi, 1979): 25–44.
26 For example, Vicenzo Puccini and Petrus Wemmers, Het wonderbaer leven van de
salinghe maghet Maria Magdalena de Pazzi . . . (Antwerp: Cornelis Woons, 1653). Hier
begint die bekeeringe van Maria Magdalena der heyliger vrouwen als Isidorius beschrĳft
(Amsterdam: Harmen Jansz. Muller, c. 1575–1600). Medieval and Renaissance legends of
the Magdalene are discussed in C.G.N. de Booys, “De Legende van s. Maria Magdalene
bekeringhe,” Tijdschrift voor Nederlandsche taal-en letterkunde 24 (1905): 16–44.
27 Anselm Hufstader, “Lefèvre d’Etaples and the Magdalene,” Studies in the Renaissance
16 (1969): 31.
28 Martin Luther, “Ein Sermon uber das Evangelion Johannis am. XX von Maria
Magdalena, so men lieset am Ostermitwoch” (Wittenburg), 1531; Desiderius Erasmus,
a wide scope of popularity. That artists would choose Mary Magdalene as

a theme to incorporate into an increasing range of evolving subjects dem-
onstrates how the market itself functioned to create a system of pictorial
specialization.29 In taking up a subject with proven public appeal, such
as Mary Magdalene, artists substantially minimized their risk in find-
ing a buyer for such pictures. Moreover, painters and printmakers could
maximize selling potential (and hopefully profit, ultimately even fame)
by varying the ways in which a theme was depicted until they found the
best possible formula to fulfill market demands.30 In this way we see Mary
Magdalene as one subject among many that reflected the experimentation
with new pictorial types in Antwerp that evolved under market pressures.
It is possible to determine from visual evidence that by the sixteenth cen-
tury, images of the penitent saint settled into distinct themes of the wil-
derness penitent and the saint in ecstasy.
Mary Magdalene as Penitent:

the Saint in Ecstasy and in the Wilderness
Images of the elevation and of the wilderness penitent appear in Italian

imagery as early as the thirteenth century, although not as independent
narratives. The Italian panel painting known as the Magdalene Dossal by
the Magdalene Master, c. 1270 (Florence, Galleria dell’Accademia) locates
the penitent saint in the center of the altarpiece enveloped by long hair
that extends almost the entire length of her body. Flanking the center
image of the Magdalene are small vignettes of her life and works that are
presented as a collective group of stories rather than distinct narratives.31
The visual similarities between the elevated ecstatic saint and the figure
Enchiridon militis Christiani (Manual of the Christian Soldier), 1501, cited in Silver, Paint-
ings of Quentin Massys, 123.
29 For the functions of the southern Netherlandish market, see Lorne Campbell, “The
Art Market in the Southern Netherlands in the Fifteenth Century,” The Burlington Maga-
zine 118/877 (1976): 188–98.
30 For the conditions of the Antwerp market, see Filip Vermeylen, “Art and Economics:
the Antwerp Art Market of the Sixteenth Century,” PhD Diss, Columbia University, 2002;
See also Dan Ewing, “Marketing Art in Antwerp, 1460–1560: Our Lady’s Pand” Art Bulletin
72 (1990): 581; Silver, Peasant Scenes and Landscapes, 26–36; Dan Ewing, “Multiple Advan-
tages, Moderate Production: Thoughts on Patinir and Marketing,” in Patinir: Essay and
Critical Catlalogue, (Madrid: Museo Nacional del Prado, 2007), 81–84.
31 For other examples see the Breviary of Martin of Aragon fol. 354v, Saint Mary
Magdalene and the Priest, illuminated initial, Spain, Catalonia 15th Century, (Bibliothèque
National de France, ROTH 2529).
prostrate in the wilderness are rooted in representations of the saint

covered by her long hair. The emphasis on her hair served to partially
underscore her repentance. Late medieval images of the saint prescribed
modesty as an identifiable feature of the penitent, a trend that experienced
a striking reversal with the introduction of the full-length nude in early
prints. It is important to note that while the development of iconography
related to the penitent Magdalene is the focus of this investigation, Mary
Magdalene was pictured in a variety of other narrative contexts such as
the Crucifixion, Entombment, and the Noli me tangere further examined
in an essay by Barbara Baert in this anthology.32
Northern printmakers constructed some of the earliest examples in
which certain stories from the life of the Magdalene were separated into
discrete themes. Of the two types of penitent Magdalene themes consid-
ered in this essay, the hair-covered Magdalene in ecstasy was the earlier of
the two absorbed into the mid-fifteenth-century devotional print culture.
The ecstatic Magdalene was seen commonly in printed imagery within
a few short decades of its initial appearance. The essential design of the
Magdalene in ecstasy is represented in an early woodcut c. 1480–90, The
Elevation of Saint Mary Magdalene by the anonymous German printmaker
known as Master of the Housebook. In this print, the saint hovers above
a detailed mountain landscape, only minimally covered by her long hair
in a way that reveals her nude form almost entirely.33 This model, in par-
ticular, was copied repeatedly by a host of other printmakers, including
Albrecht Dürer who later appropriated the ecstatic Magdalene in one
of the more well known prints of the theme, c. 1504–05 (London, Brit-
ish Museum) (fig. 16.3). Lucas van Leyden’s engraving, the Dance of the
Magdalene, 1519 also depicts the elevation in miniature as part of the
background mountainous terrain, reduced to a small scale that is over-
whelmed by the surrounding landscape.
The Elevation, already a subject with a significant audience in north-
ern prints, became an autonomous theme in painting in the Netherlands,
beginning in 1510–20.34 The earliest known example of a painting devoted
to the elevation of Mary Magdalene as its own subject is Landscape with
32 Barbara Baert, “The Gaze in the Garden: Body and Embodiment in Noli Me Tangere,”
Nederlands Kunsthistorisch Jaarboek (2008): 15–39.
33 J.P. Filedt Kok, ed. s’Levens Felheid: de Meester van het Amsterdamse Kabinet of de
Hausbuch-meester ca. 1470–1500 (Amsterdam: Rijksprentenkabinet/Rijksmuseum, in asso-
ciation with G. Schwartz, Maarssen, 1985), 142–43.
34 Parshall, Lucas van Leyden’s Narrative Style, 224–25.
Fig. 16.3. Albrecht Dürer, The Elevation of Saint Mary Magdalene, 1505, woodcut,
Fig. 16.4. Joachim Patinir and Workshop, Landscape with the Ecstasy of Saint
Mary Magdalene, c. 1517–24, oil on panel, 26.2 × 36 cm. Zurich, Kunsthaus Ruzicka-
Stiftung. Photo: Collection RKD, The Hague.
the Ecstasy of Saint Mary Magdalene, c. 1517–24, by Flemish landscape mas-

ter Joachim Patinir and workshop (Zurich, Kunsthaus Ruzicka-Stiftung)
(fig. 16.4).35 Landscape imagery in the fifteenth century was just beginning
to develop in Flanders and was characterized by elaborate detail couched
within a panoramic format.36 Emerging landscape imagery easily accom-
modated anchorite penitents like Mary Magdalene whose legend placed
her in self-exile in the wilderness.37 According to Christopher Wood,
images of anchorites were readily adapted to northern imagery precisely
because they were concomitant with landscape imagery.38 In turn, peni-
35 Parshall, Lucas van Leyden’s Narrative Style, 224–25; Alejandro Vergara, ed. Patinir:
Essay and Critical Catlalogue Madrid: Museo Nacional del Prado, 2007), 358, 361, see cat.
29; The panel is generally thought to be a pendant to the Landscape with Saint Jerome (see
cat. 22), for evidence to the contrary see p. 361.
36 Silver, Peasant Scenes and Landscapes, 4–6.
37 For an overview of anchorite saints, see Charles Allyn Williams, “Oriental Affinities
of the Legend of the Hairy Anchorite, Part I” University of Illinois studies in Language and
Literature 10/2 (1925): 1–56.
38 Christopher S. Wood, Albrecht Altdorfer and the Origins of Landscape (Chicago: Uni-
versity of Chicago Press, 1993), 128.
tent saints presented an obvious choice to complement landscape formats

because they could support the developing genre of landscape. The recip-
rocal nature of landscape and anchorite subjects provided a strategy that
enhanced painting as a commodity on the open market by repackaging
traditional devotional images of popular saints within exciting new depic-
tions of landscape. Unlike earlier paintings and prints by Jan van Scorel
and Lucas van Leyden that depicted the medieval Mary as a glamorous
courtly figure in a landscape, images of the Magdalene as a wilderness
penitent provided something altogether new for northern viewers.
Mary Magdalene and the Nude
Jan van Scorel’s and Lucas van Leyden’s imagery effectively used the
porous boundaries between subjects, here landscape combined with a
well-known religious figure, to depict the earliest images of a nude and
more openly sexualized Magdalene. Although scholars commonly ascribe
the earliest examples of a nude penitent Mary Magdalene to sixteenth-
century Italian painters, such as Correggio’s Reclining Magdalene (formerly
Dresden, Gemäldegalerie, now destroyed),39 a 1518–19 painting Mary
Magdalene also attributed to Correggio (London, National Gallery) and
Titian’s Penitent Magdalene (c. 1533, Florence, Palazzo Pitti), some earlier
examples appear in the north.40 Albrecht Dürer’s image of the Magdalene
in Ecstasy and Lucas van Leyden’s Repentant Magdalene, c. 1505–06 (fig.
16.5) are representations of the saint in the nude that precede the afore-
mentioned Italian versions. These northern penitent images negotiated a
critical interchange between the nuanced dimensions of illicit sexuality of
39 Maddelena Spagnolo, “Correggio’s Reclining Magdalen: Isabella d’Este and the Cult
of St. Mary Magdalene,” Apollo 157/496 (2003): 37–45. Spagnolo denotes that this type of
Magdalene figure was “extremely rare in Italian art of the early sixteenth century.”
40 See the unknown Flemish master, c. 1510–40, in Diane Apostolos-Cappadona, In
Search of Mary Magdalene: Images and Traditions (New York: American Bible Society, 2002),
44; Mary D. Garrard, Artemesia Gentileschi Around 1622: The Shaping and Reshaping of an
Artistic Identity (Berkeley: University of California Press, 2001), 41. See note 44. An unusual
Italian half-length erotic nude painting from the early sixteenth-century identified as a
Mary Magdalene (private collection) and now attributed to Leonardo da Vinci (formerly to
Giampetrino) will not be considered here as part of this tradition since the attribution has
yet to be generally accepted by scholars. In addition, the composition, iconography and
visual context of the painting are distinct from northern and Italian Magdalene imagery of
the period, rendering the painting seemingly unique among Magdalene imagery. See Carlo
Pedretti, and Melani Margherita, Leonardo: The European Genius: Paintings and Drawings
(Foligno: Cartei & Bianchi, 2007).
Fig. 16.5. Lucas van Leyden, Repentant Magdalene, c. 1505–06, engraving

Fig. 16.6. Master of the Half Length Figures, Penitent Mary Magdalene, c. 1480–1524,
oil on panel, 107 × 133 cm. Present location unknown. Photo: Dijon, Musée des
Beaux Arts, Erich Lessing, Art Resource, NY.
the repentant saint and her sinful past with figures that showcased eroti-
cized nudity located in landscape settings. These ecstatic or wilderness
nudes appear in a variety of sixteenth-century paintings like the Master of
the Prodigal Son’s Sleeping Mary Magdalene, c. 1575 (private collection)41
and the Master of the Half-Length Figure’s Penitent Mary Magdalene c.
1480–1524 (Dijon, Musée des Beaux Arts; fig. 16.6). In addition to the prom-
inent landscapes in these images, the development of the nude figure as a
genre had increasingly popular appeal on the open market.42 The Penitent
Mary Magdalene pictures the nude saint seated on the ground wearing a
sheer drape that does not conceal as much of her form as it reveals.43 The
figure is located in a sweeping yet highly detailed landscape that probably
depicts her shrine at Sainte-Baume, combining landscape with the appeal
of a titillating nude figure known for her sexually charged past.
Growing interest in full-length, nude penitent Magdalene figures in the
north reflected a burgeoning consumer interest in the nude as subject itself,
41 Sensualiteit en wellust: het vrouwelijk lichaam in de Vlaamse schilderkunst van de XVIe

en VXIIe eeuw, exh. cat. (Cassel: Musée de Flandre, 2011), 46.
42 Silver, Peasant Scenes and Landscapes, 1.
43 Mary Magdalene as a nude posed in a revealing drape is seen in a number of images
at this time. See for example, Adriaen Ysenbrandt’s 16th century Penitent Magdalene
(National Gallery London) and an unknown Flemish painter’s Penitent Magdalene, c.
1510–40 (Speed Museum, Louisville, Kentucky).
a type becoming more popular through the dissemination of Northern

Mannerism and as a vehicle for a variety of historical subjects.44 The
paintings of Quentin Massys’ son, Jan Massys are exemplary of this trend,
notably the Venus of Cythera (Stockholm, National Museum), 1551, a seated
nude engaging at the viewer with an invitational gaze.45 A variety of nude
subjects such as Bathsheba, Venus, and Diana found a receptive audience46
and Mary Magdalene with her history as a prostitute and her self-exile in
the wilderness was a figure that could be rather easily adapted to these
new trends in the market.47 Therefore, the Magdalene was a subject with
proven consumer appeal that had the potential to satisfy a growing con-
sumer demand for erotic images of beautiful women. Titian’s numerous
versions of his much copied half-length Penitent Magdalene c. 1533 (Flor-
ence, Palazzo Pitti) shows that he was well aware of the market demand
for this subject and mode of representation.48
The focus on Mary Magdalene’s beauty and sexual appeal, which were
partially encouraged by her reputation as a reformed prostitute, was an
apt subject for the consumer taste for beautiful female nudes in northern
imagery. According to Eric Jan Sluijter, sensual nudes that were popular
in sixteenth and seventeenth century Northern imagery served a binary
function; they were sought after pictures not only as erotic images that
stimulated the viewer, but they also existed as works of supreme aesthetic
achievement best appreciated by knowledgeable connoisseurs. That is to
44 See Eric Jan Sluijter, Rembrandt and the Female Nude (Amsterdam: Amsterdam Uni-
versity Press, 2006), 20, 148; See essays by Sandrine Vézilier “De voorstelling van het vrou-
welijk lichaam in de vijftiende eeuw: de opkomst van het wereldlijke naakt,” (pp. 11–16) and
Sandrine Vézilier, “Het vrouwelijk lichaam in de vlaamse schilderkunst van de zestiende
en zeventiende eeuw tussen de diversiteit van de voorstellingen en de verheerlijking van
het sensuele,” (pp. 17–27) in Sensualiteit en wellust: het vrouwelijk lichaam in de Vlaamse
schilderkunst van de XVIe en VXIIe eeuw.
45 Leontine Buijnsters-Smets, Jan Massys: een Antwerps schilder uit de zestiende eeuw
(Zwolle: Waanders, 1995), 191–200. Jan Massys also painted a courtly Magdalene and a
half-length nude penitent, 200–205.
46 According to Ackley, by the seventeenth century images of sexually “coy young
women” were a longstanding and popular theme in northern Europe imagery. Clifford
Ackley, et. al., Rembrandt’s Journey: Painter, Draftsman, Etcher (Boston: MFA Publications,
2003), 86; For the demand in late sixteenth and seventeenth-century Holland for nudes as
part of mythological imagery, see the introduction of Eric Jan Sluijter, De ‘Heydensche Fab-
luen’ in de Noordnederlandse Schilderkunst circa 1590–1670 (Den Haag: s.n., 1986), 191–99.
47 For typological connections that show erotic parallels between Venus and Mary
Magdalene, see H.R. Ellis Davidson, Gods and Myths of Northern Europe, reprinted 1964
(Middlesex, England: Penguin Books, 1968) as cited in Marjorie Malvern, Venus in Sack-
cloth: the Magdalene’s Origins and Metamorphosis (Carbondale: Southern Illinois Univer-
sity Press, 1975), 76, note 23.
48 Garrard, Artemesia Gentileschi Around 1622, 41. See note 44.
say, these subjects provided a vehicle for painters and printmakers to

exhibit their finest technical skills and expert handling of the complexities
of the classic subject in the arts, the nude form.49 As a sinner reformed
from a life of sexual profligacy, Mary Magdalene was ideally suited for
such sensuous portrayals.50 Northern artists’ practice of picturing her
form more revealingly nude than in medieval images of the saint as a
hair-covered figure or a richly gowned courtesan argues for some influ-
ence from the commercial forces of the open art market.51
Mary Magdalene in Landscape Painting and the Open Market
The proliferation of prints and paintings depicting Mary Magdalene in

a landscape can be attributed not only to an appreciation for the nude
figure, but also to the development of the landscape genre in northern
Europe. Originating in Flanders, landscape experienced a meteoric rise
from background imagery in paintings and prints to a subject in its own
right during the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries, at the same time that
the open art market began to take shape in Northern Europe.52 Market
demand for landscape imagery gave a commercial advantage to pictures
that featured the panoramic yet exquisitely detailed outdoor vistas, con-
sidered a specialty of northern painters.53 The selection of the penitent
Mary Magdalene, of which landscape is an integral element, as a reap-
pearing theme suggests that the shifting iconography of penitent imagery
49 Sluijter, Eric Jan. Seductress of Sight: Studies in Dutch Art of the Golden Age (Zwolle:
Waanders Publishers, 2000), 14–15.
50 Sluijter, Seductress of Sight, 14–15.
51 Silver, “Forest Primeval,” 122. These distinctions are seen Quentin Massys’ panel
painting Penitent Magdalene, c. 1620–30, one of a pendant pair including Saint Mary of
Egypt (Philadelphia Museum of Fine Arts), kneeling on a grassy plain with her long hair
only partially covering her nude form. Massys’ Magdalene is an unusual departure from
the developing compositional format for the wilderness penitent theme as a less sexu-
alized figure and somewhat emaciated. The rocky landscape is present, but provides an
almost visually neutral background unlike other period imagery of the theme. In contrast,
The Penitent Magdalene, c. 1520–40 (Louisville, Kentucky, Speed Art Museum) presents a
Magdalene type more frequently recurring in northern wilderness penitent imagery that
of the nude figure seated on a drape that minimally covers her body.
52 Alexander Wied, “Zur Geschichte der Europäischen landschaftsmalerei,” Die flämi
sche Landschaft 1520–1700 exh. cat. (Lingen: Luca Verlag, 2003) 13–21, and Alexander Wied,
“Die Anfänge,” 39–45; See Silver for the relationship between early landscapes and market
forces in Peasant Scenes and Landscapes, 26–36.
53 Silver, Peasant Scenes and Landscapes, 6; Catherine Reynolds, “Patinir and Depic-
tions of Landscape in the Netherlands,” Alejandro Vergara, ed. Patinir: Essay and Critical
Catalogue (Madrid: Museo Nacional del Prado, 2007), 97.
within northern artistic contexts was connected to the rhythms of the

open market.54
The prominent role of landscape in fifteenth and sixteenth century
Northern penitent imagery stands in contrast to Italian images of the pen-
itent Magdalene that do not traditionally emphasize landscape as part of
the penitent theme. Joachim Patinir, an early Flemish landscape painter,
combined broad, diverse vistas (known as Weltlandschaft, or “world land-
scapes”) with religious scenes or saints, a type evinced by the ecstatic and
penitent Magdalene.55 Patinir’s innovation with landscape imagery extended
to his Landscape with the Ecstasy of Saint Mary Magdalene, c. 1517–24, cited
as the first example of the ecstatic Mary Magdalene portrayed as an inde-
pendent theme in painting.56 In contrast, earlier painted and especially
print versions, such as Lucas van Leyden’s Dance of Saint Mary Magdalene
collapsed multiple narratives from the saint’s life together. Patinir’s hybrid
pictures provided a model that was quickly adopted throughout Flanders
and Holland. One of the unique features of Patinir’s imagery is the manner
in which landscape dominates the figure, and the nude is less of a consider-
ation in this image. Other examples, such as the Penitent Mary Magdalene,
executed by Patinir follower, the Master of the Half-Length Figures, more
strongly emphasize the nude along with the landscape context.
Northern landscapes, such as those by Patinir, his imitators, and other
artists responding to the market are characteristically panoramic scenes
that span the picture plane, and are highly detailed in terms of techni-
cal precision. It is the fully developed, rather than the generalized and
abbreviated landscape, that is an integral part of northern images of the
ecstatic and wilderness penitent. A painting attributed to Jan van Scorel
of a nude Mary Magdalene from the first half of the sixteenth century and
Lucas van Leyden’s wilderness penitents both feature an outdoor setting
of forest combined with rough tree-covered rocky outcroppings.57 Many
of these images include a structure perched on the rocky hills is the far
54 This interpretation was derived from Craig Harbison’s discussion of Lucas van Ley-
den’s work in the sense of the rise of genre imagery, here applied to landscapes. See Har-
bison, 124.
55 For the devotional aspects of Patinir’s landscape imagery, see Reindert L. Falken-
berg, Joachim Patinir: Landscape as an Image of the Pilgrimage of Life, Trans. by Michael
Hoyle (Philadelphia: John Benjamins Publishing Company, 1988); Silver, Peasant Scenes
and Landscapes, xvi.
56 Parshall, Lucas van Leyden’s Narrative Style, 226–27.
57
Friedlander, vol. 12, p. 124, cat. no. 339; G.J. Hoogewerff, De Noord-Nederlandsche
Schilderkunst, vol. 4 (Amsterdam: Martinus Nijhof, 1941), 255–256.
Fig. 16.7. Attributed to Jan van Scorel, Mary Magdalene in a Landscape, first half
of the sixteenth century, oil on panel. Photo: Collection RKD, The Hague.
background, a likely signifier of the saint’s shrine and its contemporary

pilgrimage community at Ste. Baume.58 The shrine is visible in images by
Patinir, the Master of the Half-Lengths, and Van Scorel (fig. 16.7).59 Thus,
Mary Magdalene as a wilderness penitent is a theme that presents an
effective commercial strategy by combining three popular visual “brands”
in one picture: a theme from the life of Mary Magdalene, the saint as an
appealing nude, and a landscape background. The addition of the nude
within a landscape became standardized in penitent Magdalene imagery
by the mid-sixteenth century with no further significant iconographical
changes for the ecstatic and wilderness penitent within northern artistic
contexts. The stabilization of the themes also occurred at a point when
mannerist influences responsible for bringing the nude to a broader
58 Vergara, 358; 361.

59 It is believed that Patinir visited the shrine at Ste. Baume. Vergara, 358; 361.
audience were in decline, and the vigor of the art market, especially in
Flanders, began to wane.60
Mary Magdalene’s Place in Northern European Commercial

Contexts
For about a century, from 1450–1550, artists in northern Europe produced

a number of paintings and prints casting Mary Magdalene as a reformed
penitent in two guises: the saint elevated in ecstasy and as an outcast
in the wilderness. While retaining some traditional attributes from ear-
lier images of Mary Magdalene as an aristocratic courtesan, the iconog-
raphy of these two penitent themes became uniquely northern through
the adoption of certain characteristics. Significantly, these images of the
penitent Magdalene were created at the same time the open art market
in Flanders gained momentum. As the open art market developed later
in the northern Netherlands, penitent imagery gained greater visibility
in Holland. Characteristic of the northern iconography that developed is
the combination of sensual nudes set in landscapes. While demonstrating
ostensibly devotional overtones such images were intended to advance
the commercial potential of these multifaceted pictures to the broadest
possible range of buyers. New modes of picturing Mary Magdalene as a
penitent in northern imagery demonstrate the influence of commercial
competition as a powerful force that stimulated pictorial innovation as a
way for artists to distinguish themselves and their work.
By the later sixteenth and seventeenth centuries, nude figures in land-
scape settings became more distinctly separated themes in northern art as
artists continued to specialize in specific areas of the art market. Based on
the availability of images that survive, it seems that seventeenth-century
representations (mostly prints) of Mary Magdalene as a partially draped
nude set in a severely truncated landscape continued to be produced by
notable artists like Peter Paul Rubens, Willem Buytewech, Hendrik Goltz-
ius and others.61 The ecstatic nude Magdalene, conversely, did not have an
extended life in northern markets over this same period of time. Although
60 For the decline of the art market see Ewing, “Marketing Art in Antwerp, 1460–1560,”
577–81.
61 For landscape, see Silver, Peasants and Landscapes, 26–52 and for the nude, later
examples from the seventeenth-century that are both broad and specific can be found in
Eric Jan Sluijter, Seductress of Sight and Rembrandt’s Female Nudes.
undoubtedly popular through the early sixteenth century, we can infer

that the ecstatic Magdalene was itself selected out of the open market as a
prevalent theme over time. Marketing Mary Magdalene indeed remained
a profitable visual strategy for artists after the sixteenth century, however,
eventual shifts in the once novel and competitive iconographical inven-
tions of the saint as a wilderness penitent and a nude landscape dweller
argue that these themes fell victim to the same dynamic market forces
that catalyzed their initial development over a century earlier.
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index
Abelard, 173, 206, 226, 421, 438 Bargello, 26, 90

Abingdon, 252, 428 Bathsheba, 326, 414
absolution, 30, 102, 160, 364, 367, 374 Beauvais, 288
Adam, 203, 258, 260–262, 265, 401, 423 Bellini, 183, 424
agency, 17, 49–50, 51, 54, 56, 61, 62–63, 65, Benedictine, 100–101, 226, 365, 442
70, 73 Bethany, 5–6, 34, 57, 62, 78, 83, 92, 226,
Aix, 7, 10, 79, 83, 217, 269–270, 437 255, 274, 278, 281, 284–287, 352, 431,
alabaster, 6, 78, 167, 175–177, 219, 401 444
almsgiving, 153, 158 Biblia Pauperum, 208–209, 213, 231, 432
altar, 10, 61, 75, 78, 81–82, 86, 91, 99, blood, 31, 62, 183, 377
103–104, 136–138, 140, 142–143, 145, blue, 55, 298, 320, 322, 330, 369, 371, 381,
153–154, 349, 357, 374, 424–425, 435 394, 400
altarpiece, 12, 16, 75–89, 91–93, 95, 97–104, Bolzano, 12, 45–46, 49–50, 52, 54–55,
155, 295, 297, 299, 301–302, 304–305, 57–60, 65, 71, 73, 85, 147, 424, 428, 430,
307, 309, 311, 347, 358–359, 390, 392, 396, 435, 437–438, 440, 443
400, 407 Bonaventure, 31–33, 36, 39–40, 236, 306,
Altdorfer, 146–148, 410, 443, 446 358, 421
Ambrose, 44, 62, 192–193, 225–226, 259, 421 Borghese, 121
Anastasis, 434 Borromeo, 116, 174–175, 241, 243–244, 426,
anchorite, 410–411 433, 440
Angevin, 10, 45, 283–284, 288, 442 Botticelli, 179, 311
Anjou, 10, 217, 283, 288 Bouts, 364, 446
Anna, 14, 30, 167, 183–184, 196, 230, 334, Braque, 80, 167–168, 370–371, 400
433–434, 444 breastbeating, 367
anointrix, 255 breviary, 22, 79–80, 407
Anselm, 209, 259, 306, 361, 368, 374, 421, 432 bride, 206–208, 220, 227, 231, 258, 304–307,
apocrypha, 258, 345, 438, 442 311, 314
apocryphal, 7, 23, 54, 144, 221, 352–353, bridegroom, 80, 97, 193, 208, 258–259, 266,
400–401 306, 311, 385
apostle, 5, 9–10, 33, 40–41, 44, 50, 102, Bruegel, 71, 383, 403, 423, 431
191–192, 197–198, 204, 206, 226, 239–240, Bruges, 215, 383, 394, 423
244–245, 248, 260, 270, 344, 356, 386, burial, 4, 27, 30, 130, 280, 380
422, 426, 438
apostolorum, 5, 10, 40–41, 50, 89, 102–103, Cabassole, 10, 40, 442
191, 193, 226, 248, 264 Calvin, 124, 217, 231, 257–258, 266, 421, 426
Ascension, 9, 79, 225, 344 Calvinist, 15, 249, 251, 257–258, 266
Assisi, 12, 22–23, 26, 29, 31, 41, 155, 305, 320, Campin, 82, 84, 390, 440, 444
345, 350–351, 356–358, 422, 434, 436, Caravaggio, 13–14, 107, 122, 161–168,
440, 442–443 170–186, 261, 315, 330, 423–427, 429, 431,
Assumption, 6, 85, 104, 142, 145, 167, 286, 433, 435–437, 439–440, 443–445
393 Carmelite, 16, 326, 330, 333
Auxerre, 2, 442 Carpaccio, 144
Avignon, 82, 310, 364, 428, 441 Carracci, 312–313, 428
Cecilia, 16, 295, 297, 299–310, 314, 423,
Bacchus, 179 437–438, 443–444, 447
Baptism, 55, 234, 355, 434 Cedonius, 7, 79, 100–101
baptism, 178, 218, 234, 355, 365 chapbook, 13, 108, 113–117, 120, 122–125, 127,
Baptist, 26, 55, 57, 73, 370 129, 132, 433
450 index
Christus, 42, 109, 196, 198, 209, 212, 220, Ercolani, 16, 295, 298–299, 301, 305–311,
356, 394, 423, 426, 444 313–314
Chrysostom, 152 eremetica, 8–9, 45, 51–52, 62, 273
Cimabue, 10, 201, 258, 358, 435 Eros, 111, 129, 182, 304, 441, 445
Cistercian, 304, 369, 381, 437, 445 eucharist, 102–103, 171, 259, 311, 436
Clairvaux, 35, 355, 381, 387, 437 Eve, 10, 15, 120, 159, 192–195, 201, 203, 251,
Clement, 121, 160, 172, 240, 242, 247, 366 258, 260–262, 265–266, 271, 310, 347, 366,
Colonna, Vittoria 14–15, 223, 225, 227, 229, 387, 393–394, 396, 436, 441, 444
231, 233, 235, 237, 239–248, 251, 362, exegesis, 1, 14–15, 112, 189, 191, 196, 219, 225,
421–422, 426, 430–433, 438, 446 236, 257, 260, 304, 425, 440, 445
conception, 6, 15, 113, 145,251, 281–282 exorcism, 4, 17, 30, 341–349, 351–359, 433, 435
confraternity, 13, 21, 30, 61, 135–136, 140, Eyck, 372, 387, 389, 383, 423
145, 153–155, 158, 160, 295, 310–311, 425,
435 Flora, 309, 313, 423, 427, 436, 438, 444
contemplative, 6, 12, 21, 25, 33–37, 41, 43, forgiveness, 1, 17, 21, 28, 30, 135, 160, 341,
55, 73, 78, 80, 220, 237, 243, 270 344, 353–354, 366–367, 370, 373–374
Correggio, 16, 243, 295, 298–302, 304–314, Franciscan, 12, 16–17, 21–23, 25–32, 34–39,
411, 423, 426, 428–429, 431, 437–439, 443 41–46, 88–89, 91, 103, 146, 155, 243, 246,
cortigiana, 109–111, 129, 183–184, 186, 429 271, 281, 325, 341–342, 345, 347, 350, 354,
Council of Lyons, 37 356–359, 369–370, 374, 422, 429, 434,
Council of Trent, 158 441, 443, 445
courtesan, 13–14, 107, 109–110, 112, 120–122,
124–130, 149, 156, 164, 166, 171, 174, 177, Gaul, 7–9, 40, 45, 61, 63, 103
180, 183–184, 186, 240, 316, 333, 399–401, Gentileschi, 411, 414, 430
405, 415, 418, 427–428, 431, 435–436, 441, Giotto, 2, 7, 22–23, 26, 42–43, 52, 57, 196,
445–446 304, 320, 344, 350–351, 358, 437–438, 440
crucifixion, 4, 22–23, 26, 135, 180, 223, 298, Golgotha, 4, 380–381
367, 370–372, 374–375, 381, 408
Hagar, 15, 251, 258, 261, 263–266, 443
Dante, 332, 334 harlot, 8, 107, 182, 236, 318, 434, 437
DaVinci, 2 headdress, 57, 59, 61, 68, 98, 229, 370
demon, 4, 17, 30, 130, 157, 200, 341, 343–344, hermit, 17, 22, 140, 145, 180, 202, 205, 273,
346–347, 349–359 281, 299, 355, 399
Demoulins, 270–280, 282–283, 285, 287, Hirsau, 12, 80, 98–101, 104
289–293, 422
devil, 109, 155, 234, 333, 344, 351–353, 355, inquisition, 159
357, 434, 437, 439
Dijon, 82, 318 jawbone, 40–41
diptych, 372 Jeremiah, 252, 439
Domenico, 52, 59–60, 62–65, 73, 308, 421 Jerusalem, 9, 25, 57, 122, 147, 193, 229,
Dominican, 7, 10, 31, 46, 62–63, 66, 234–235, 252, 281, 284, 287, 377–379, 422,
203–206, 220, 227, 241, 349, 387, 427 439, 446
Donatello, 355, 425, 437 Jesuit, 109, 435
dossal, 26, 347–348, 358, 407 Jew, 50, 113, 239, 280, 333, 424, 447
Dürer, 217, 251, 254–255, 261, 254, 404, Jewess, 180
408–409, 411, 424 Joachim, 410, 416, 430
Judgment, 26–27, 97, 344, 366, 368, 372,
Easter, 4, 6, 65, 85, 103, 206, 226, 231, 234, 429–430
239, 249, 435, 438
Ecstasy, 16, 18, 295, 299–301, 304, 308, 317, Lamentation, 378, 380, 382, 400
399, 403, 406–408, 410–411, 416, 418 Lazarus, 5–7, 22–23, 26–27, 33, 55–56, 58,
Entombment, 4, 173, 408, 443 61–62, 64, 78–79, 81, 83, 87, 89, 92,
Epiphany, 144, 435 100–101, 122, 200, 208, 226, 272, 274,
Erasmus, 253, 406 278–281, 351, 370
index 451
Leyden, 8, 71, 107, 217, 229–230, 251, Michelangelo, 14, 135, 161, 174, 183–184,
255–256, 311, 349, 401, 403–406, 408, 410, 223–225, 227, 229, 231, 233–235, 237,
411–412, 416, 424, 427, 430, 432–433, 445 239–243, 245–248, 362, 421, 424,
426–427, 432, 435, 443–447, 251, 258
Madonna, 183–184, 295, 306–307, 313, 364, Milano, Giovanni da 17, 24, 27–29, 34, 38,
385–387, 389–390, 392–394, 429, 55, 341–343, 349–350, 352–354, 356, 359,
437–438, 440, 446 431, 439–440
maidservant, 261, 264–265, 443 Miriam, 15, 423, 428
marriage, 80, 110–111, 112, 156, 270, 275, 279, Moser, 12, 75–83, 88–89, 91, 98, 100–101,
304, 306, 309, 311, 313, 330, 394, 401, 426, 424–425, 437, 445
431, 438 motherhood, 369, 373
Marseilles, 7–8, 22–23, 25–27, 45, 51–52, 61, mysticism, 35, 41, 205–206, 336, 361, 377,
64, 69, 79, 83, 87, 89, 92–93, 95, 180, 217, 437, 441
219, 370 mystics, 363, 368, 373, 376–377, 441, 447
Martha, 5–7, 12, 21, 23, 25, 32–37, 43, 49–51,
54–59, 61–65, 67–68, 70–73, 78–81, 83, Naples, 10, 35, 126, 149, 161, 247, 284, 287, 306
87, 89–90, 92, 109, 122, 193, 200, 205, 226, noblewoman, 16, 110, 112, 295, 299, 301,
231, 274, 278–280, 315, 352, 364, 426–427, 317–318, 325, 327
429–431, 446 nude, 18, 108, 117, 120–121, 149, 167, 185, 243,
martyr, 64, 196, 301 299, 399–400, 406, 408, 411, 413–419
Mary Magdalene, Anointing of, 6, 11, 17, Nun, 206, 325, 378, 428, 442
22–23, 25–29, 31–32, 34, 37,43, 50–51, 54, Nuremberg, 88, 91–92, 442
63, 68, 78, 83, 88–90, 92–93, 102–103,
170–171, 217, 219, 227, 234, 263, 274, 281, obedience, 32, 264, 369
284–288, 330,341–343, 349–351, 354, obedient, 344
359, 429, 444, Elevation by angels, 52, Oignies, 206–207, 376, 422, 435
81, 89,92, 405–408, Feast in the House Oratorians, 174–175
of Simon the Pharisee, 5–6, 28, 30, 78,
89, 205, 226, 281, 284, 341, 350–351, Padua, 41, 52, 54–55, 59, 121, 143, 155, 201,
353, Last Communion, 9, 11, 22, 25–27, 305, 334, 344, 422, 425, 439, 443
51–52, 79, 83, 88–93, 100, 103, Marseilles pagan, 7–8, 25, 40, 61, 64, 69, 79, 93, 103,
(Provençal) legend, 7–8, 22–23, 25–27, 182, 281, 344, 346
45, 51–52, 61, 64, 69, 79, 83, 87, 89, Paleotti, 13, 184
92–93, 95, 180, Noli me tangere, 5, 11, Pamphilj, 162–163, 172, 174
14–16, 22–23, 25–27, 38–39, 41–43, 89, 92, Panigarola, 117, 174–175, 178, 186, 423
117, 121, 154, 187, 189–197, 199–205, Parmigianino, 306–307, 429
207–213, 215–221, 223–225, 227–231, passion, 3–4, 17, 31, 44, 66–67, 86–87, 135,
232–237, 240–243, 245–257, 266, 146, 171, 180, 182–183, 212, 254–255, 261,
295–296, 298–299, 301–302, 304, 269, 295, 310, 318, 324, 344, 362–364,
306–313, 336, 352, 408, 424–425, 429, 366–369, 390, 392, 376–377, 379, 406,
432, 434–435, 438–441, 443, 445, as 425, 428–430, 433, 436, 444
preacher, 7–8, 12, 21, 25–26, 40, 51–52, peccatrice, 21, 196
61–64, 69, 89, 92, 102–103, 207, shrine at peccatrix, 39, 155, 164, 166, 176, 202, 226,
Vézelay, 8–10, 21, 82–84, 102, 442, shrine 376, 444
at Saint-Maximin-Le-Sainte-Baume, penitence, 14, 28, 30, 54, 64, 85, 102, 120,
10–11, 22, 217–218, 283–284 147, 149, 152, 155, 158, 160, 164, 166,
Medici, 120, 161, 172, 176, 179, 242, 247, 309, 170–171, 173–175, 177, 181, 184, 209, 223,
434 235, 246, 349, 354–355, 406, 432
Meditationes vitae Christi, 28, 31–33, 35, 345 penitent, 1, 8–9, 11, 13–14, 17–18, 21, 25,
mendicant, 2, 10–11, 21–22, 30, 32, 34–37, 28, 88, 102, 107, 109, 111, 113, 115, 117, 119,
39–41, 45–46, 59, 61, 87, 101–102, 201–202, 121, 123, 125, 127–129, 131, 133, 145–147,
205, 220, 236, 369–370, 433, 149, 152, 154–155, 161–169, 170–173, 175,
meretrici, 109, 111, 129, 184 177, 179, 181, 183–186, 205, 218, 226, 237,
merovingian, 200 243–244, 289, 310, 315–317, 319, 322–324,
452 index
326–327, 330, 336, 349, 362, 366–369, repentance, 1, 9, 11, 30, 37, 44, 107, 149, 170,
373, 376, 396, 399–400, 404–408, 411, 181, 184–185, 219, 310–311, 314–315, 341,
413–419, 422, 432 349, 352, 354, 365–356, 374, 400, 408
Pentecost, 3, 234 Resurrection, 1, 3–6, 7, 10, 12, 14–15, 21, 31,
Perugino, 312 38–43, 85–86, 102–103, 189, 192–193,
Petrarch, 305, 313 195–197, 199–200, 204, 212, 219, 225–226,
piety, 17, 22, 36, 39, 79, 115, 154, 158, 160, 229–230, 232, 234–236, 239–240, 244,
185, 238, 240, 243–244, 259, 269, 292, 246, 248, 250–251, 255, 258–261, 263,
295, 310, 325, 364, 366, 368, 374, 434, 265–266, 278, 280, 298, 306, 310–311,
436, 445 313–314, 332, 344, 352, 426, 428, 439, 442
pilgrimage, 25, 82, 86–87, 241, 269–270, 281, Rome, 10, 13, 52, 111, 113, 115, 121, 162, 370, 421,
283, 290, 357, 364, 377–379, 379–382, 424–427, 429, 433, 435–439, 442, 444, 446
386–387, 416–417, 427–428, 430, 433,
441, 444 Sackcloth, 2, 120, 259, 414, 436
plague, 13, 23, 125, 135, 155–160, 350, 429, sacrament, 9, 30, 88, 103, 108, 234, 257, 315,
440 422
Pontormo, 14, 223, 229, 241–243, 246–247, salvation, 12, 15, 26, 32, 36, 50, 113, 132,
311, 427, 432 154–155, 160, 184, 192–193, 200–201, 203,
preacher, 1, 8, 36–37, 40, 61–64, 102–103, 219–220, 257–258, 261, 265–266, 310–311,
155, 174, 207, 226, 235–236, 304, 370, 425, 332, 362, 364, 368–369, 373–374, 396
433, 437 samaritan, 327
priest, 9, 16, 30, 219, 239, 252, 257, 271, 286, sarcophagus, 197–198, 229, 232, 249
344, 362, 407 Savonarola, 31, 307, 434
printmaking, 113–114, 132, 405, 407–408, schilderkunst, 208, 413–414, 434, 438, 443
415, 427 Schongauer, 189–190, 193–195, 208, 210, 212
propaganda, 123, 236, 286, 429, 443 seductress, 415, 418, 443
prostitution, 1, 8, 13, 107–113, 116, 120, 122, sepulchre, 194, 208, 212, 378
124–125, 127, 129–130, 132–133, 145, 156, servant, 33, 58, 111, 127, 344, 350
159, 305, 333, 401, 426, 432, 439 Shunnamite, 15
Protestant, 15, 107, 123–124, 183, 251–252, sinner, 1, 5–6, 11–14, 17–18, 21, 26, 32, 40, 59,
254, 256, 258–260, 266, 329, 424, 436, 68, 70, 78, 85, 102, 105, 107, 122, 147, 155,
443 160, 164–166, 174, 181, 184, 200–201,
Provençal, 27, 217, 229, 270, 282–284, 292 204–205, 226–227, 236, 264, 274, 284–285,
psalter, 229, 247–248, 387, 426 304, 310, 315, 330, 341, 347–354, 361,
purification, 201, 221, 355 369–370, 373, 401, 415, 425, 428, 433, 437
sister, 5–6, 12, 23, 25, 31, 33–35, 45, 47,
Raphael, 16, 121, 295–297, 299–309, 312, 49, 51, 53–55, 57–59, 61–65, 67–71, 73,
434, 438, 444 78–80, 85, 99, 122, 147, 172, 200, 205, 226,
redemption, 13, 28, 166, 184, 258, 261, 264, 275–276, 279–280, 326, 369, 378
347, 369, 387, 400, 406 skull, 10, 167, 217, 255, 269–270, 287–288,
redemptrix, 369 290–291, 315, 331, 441
Reformation, 13, 15, 108, 110, 113, 116, 123, sphinx, 81, 437
161–162, 166, 182, 185, 217, 241, 251, 259, stigmata, 41–42, 195, 211
264, 302, 315, 333, 364, 426, 431, 436, stigmatization, 41, 43
441–444, 446 Susanna, 15, 115
Regensburg, 78, 85, 201, 441 syphilis, 13, 107, 109, 125–126, 130, 132, 145,
relic, 8–10, 40, 116, 215, 217, 221, 229, 241, 156–160
255–256, 270, 283, 287, 301, 345, 357–359, syphilitics, 125, 154, 156, 158–159
386–387
reliquary, 10, 167, 196, 218, 229, 287–291 Tintoretto, 13, 135–137, 139–147, 149, 151–155,
Rembrandt, 15, 162, 249–266, 414, 418, 157, 159–160
423–424, 427–428, 430–431, 434–437, Titian, 117, 119, 121, 135, 144, 149–152, 161,
439–443, 445–447 167–168, 170, 175, 179, 181, 232–233,
Rencio, 12, 45–58, 61–62, 64–66, 68–72, 243–244, 305, 320, 332, 333, 411, 414, 423,
85, 147 427, 431, 438, 440, 446
index 453
tomb, 4–5, 10, 39, 42, 44, 101, 194, 196, 198, Vézelay, 8–10, 21, 82–84, 102, 442
202, 223, 227, 239, 246, 249, 253, 255, Virgin, 1, 4, 17–18, 30, 80, 85–87, 103, 107,
260, 263, 298, 345, 355–358, 379, 381 116, 144–145, 167, 215–216, 227, 261, 320,
Trentino, 45–46, 147, 423 361–362, 364, 366–371, 373–374, 376–377,
tridentine, 165, 173, 184, 252 381, 383, 385–388, 390, 393–396, 423,
triptych, 80, 167–168, 370–371, 374–375, 429–430, 442–443, 445
385–386, 394, 400, 425, 430–431 virgins, 79–80, 97–98, 103
Tyrol, 45, 147, 423 vision, 10, 206, 235, 237, 263, 287, 299, 300,
308, 311–312, 315, 320, 332, 335–336, 362,
unctrix, 284–285, 287–288 381–382, 405, 429–430, 440, 444
voyage, 22, 110, 270, 424, 437
vanitas, 67, 108, 318, 332–334, 396 vulgate, 66–67, 166, 176, 183, 191, 225, 252–253
vanity, 32, 58, 67, 71, 110, 236, 331, 333, 355
van Scorel, Jan 401–402, 405, 411, 416–417, Weyden, 80, 167–168, 363–364, 371, 375,
430, 445 390, 392–394, 400, 443, 445
Vasari, 242, 247, 298, 300, 306, 312, 349, whores, 110–111, 124, 373, 427
358, 422 widow, 80, 206, 240
Venice, 13, 39, 54, 108–112, 117, 121–125, wife, 7, 25, 61, 103, 110–111, 116, 186, 236, 247,
132, 135–139, 141–143, 145–146, 149, 151, 270–271, 279–282, 394, 430, 438
153–159, 161, 177, 183, 232, 240, 246, 252, wilderness, 8, 18, 25, 27, 79, 90, 92, 117,
304, 313, 309, 387–388, 392, 422–423, 146–147, 149, 154–155, 160, 167, 243, 257,
426, 428, 437–438, 441 263, 265–266, 299, 317, 404–408, 410–411,
Venus, 2, 117, 120–122, 177–180, 231, 259, 315, 413–419, 443
320, 325, 335, 414, 436, 442 witchcraft, 157, 344, 346, 434
Vermeer, 330, 432 woodcut, 114, 117–118, 120, 126, 217, 252–254,
vernacular, 21, 31, 36, 62–63, 65, 73, 116, 404–405, 408–409, 432
252, 385, 427, 442 Wurms, 85
Veronese, 121–122, 135, 155
Versailles, 324, 326, 328, 331 yellow, 305
vessel, 166, 171, 176–177, 184–185, 287–288
vestment, 100–101, 305 Zosimus, 9, 22

Mary Magdalene - Iconographic Studies From The Middle Ages To The Baroque

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Mary Magdalene, Iconographic Studies from

the Middle Ages to the Baroque

The titles published in this series are listed at brill.com/sart

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

Copyright 2012 by Koninklijke Brill NV, Leiden, The Netherlands.

This book is printed on acid-free paper.

1 The Magdalene as Mirror: Trecento Franciscan Imagery in

2 Mary Magdalene and Her Dear Sister: Innovation in the Late

3 The German Iconography of the Saint Magdalene Altarpiece:

4 The Printed Penitent: Magdalene Imagery and Prostitution

5 Tintoretto’s Holy Hermits at the Scuola Grande di San Rocco 135

6 Irony and Realism in the Iconography of Caravaggio’s

7 The Gaze in the Garden: Mary Magdalene in Noli me tangere 189

8 Michelangelo’s Noli me tangere for Vittoria Colonna, and the

9 Woman, Why Weepest Thou? Rembrandt’s 1638 Noli me

10 The Magdalene and ‘Madame’: Piety, Politics, and

1 1 Mary Magdalene Between Public Cult and Personal

12 Reflections on a Glass Madeleine Pénitente ................................... 315

13 Exorcism in the Iconography of Mary Magdalene ......................... 341

14 “Woman, Why Weepest Thou?” Mary Magdalene, the Virgin

15 Mary Magdalene and the Iconography of Domesticity .............. 383

16 Marketing Mary Magdalene in Early Modern Northern

by the Office of the Dean at Christopher Newport University. Since this

Joanne Anderson is Visiting Lecturer of Art History at the University of

Barbara Baert studied Art History and Philosophy at the Catholic Uni-

Andrea Begel is an Assistant Professor of Art History at Adelphi University

Elizabeth Carroll Consavari currently teaches at Stanford University. She

Bobbi Dykema is an independent scholar who has taught at Hamline Uni-

Jane Eade is an Associate Curator of 16th-century art at the National

Michelle Erhardt is Associate Professor of Art History and Chair of the

Rachel Geschwind is an independent scholar who resides in Kansas City

Barbara Johnston is an Assistant Professor of Art History at Columbus

Annette LeZotte is Associate Professor of Art History at Wichita State Uni-

Amy Morris is Assistant Professor of Art History at the University of

Margaret Morse is Assistant Professor of Art History at Augustana College

Michelle Moseley-Christian is Assistant Professor of Art History at Virginia

Vibeke Olson is an Associate Professor of Art History at the University of

Lisa Rafanelli joined the Department of Art History at Manhattanville Col-

1. Michelle A. Erhardt, “The Magdalene as Mirror:

Fig. 1.1. Giotto, Crucifixion, 1310s, fresco, north transept, Lower

2. Joanne W. Anderson, “Mary Magdalene and Her Dear Sister:

3. Amy M. Morris, “The German Iconography of the Saint

Figs. 3.1(a). Lucas Moser, Saint Magdalene Altarpiece, 1432, panel,

4. Rachel Geschwind, “The Printed Penitent: Magdalene Imagery

Fig. 4.1. Anonymous artist, titlepage to Marco Rossiglioʼs La

Fig. 4.2. Titian, Penitent Magdalene, c. 1560s, oil on canvas.

5. Elizabeth Carroll Consavari, “Tintoretto’s Holy Hermits

Fig. 5.1. Scuola Grande di San Rocco, Venice, sala terrena

6. Patrick Hunt, “Irony and Realism in the Iconography

Fig. 6.1. Caravaggio, Penitent Magdalene, c. 1596–97, oil on canvas.

7. Barbara Baert, “The Gaze in the Garden: Mary Magdalene

Fig. 7.1. Martin Schongauer, Noli me tangere, 1475–1480, burin

Fig. 7.7. Noli me tangere from the Biblia Pauperum. Bibliothèque

8. Lisa M. Rafanelli, ‘Michelangelo’s Noli me tangere for

Fig. 8.1. Agnolo Bronzino, Noli me tangere (after Michelangelo),

9. Bobbi Dykema, “Woman, Why Weepest Thou? Rembrandt’s 1638

Fig. 9.1. Rembrandt Harmenszoon van Rijn, The Risen Christ

10. Barbara J. Johnston, “The Magdalene and ‘Madame’: Piety,

Fig. 10.1. Godefroy le Batave, The Body of Lazarus Prepared for

Fig. 10.2. Godefroy le Batave, The Magdalene Dancing, detail from

11. Margaret A. Morse, “Mary Magdalene Between Public Cult

Fig. 11.1. Correggio (Antonio Allegri), Noli me tangere, c. 1520s,

12. Jane Eade, “Reflections on a Glass Madeleine Pénitente”

her pre-conversion life, she was a member of a noble family in Magdala,

e mpowered aspects of the Magdalene’s identity, this painting participates

s acrament of penance when he absolved the Magdalene of all her sins.16

The small church of Santa Maddalena is located in the hamlet of Rencio,