The Medieval Virgin and Child, Essay Example

The Regal in the Sacred: The Medieval Virgin and Child

The statue known simply as, “The Virgin and Child,” dated 1166-1200 and of Spanish creation, presents a varied and sometimes contradictory idea of how Christianity was so integral to the medieval era in Western Europe.  On one level, the work is basic and reveals Mary and the infant Christ clearly as figures of supreme importance.  That the subjects are in fact the Madonna and Christ child inherently conveys the core of Christian belief, and consequently the expectation of all due reverence.  At the same time, and from a modern point of view, there is an aspect to the art that defies the Christian meaning.  In simple terms, the onlooker hypothetically unfamiliar with the identities of the figures may easily assume that the statue depicts a great queen and a prince.  As will be discussed, there is an impression of spirituality or innate beneficence to the attitudes of the mother and son, yet regality is the dominant force here.  What this then translates to is a powerful medieval connection between the church and the traditions of human authority or kingship as it evolved from the Romans through feudalism.  As the Spanish “Virgin and Child” exists as a striking example of expression of the divine, then, so too does it reinforce the medieval association between regality and Christian, or more precisely Catholic, faith.

To better understand this important aspect of the art, it is necessary to first take in the full physicality of the creation, with interpretation as a process to follow.  The sculpture is small, carved from fruitwood, and has been repainted several times over the years.  Mary sits on a throne in a stiff posture, and a detachable Christ child is seated firmly on her lap; she is in effect the “throne” for the child.  In her outstretched hand is what could be an orb or an apple, and Christ holds a book to his chest and has His other hand extended in what seems to be a benediction.  It is also possible that a sceptre, lost at some point, had originally been held by this hand.  Mary wears a robe of dark blue over a red tunic reaching to her feet, with red lines and white dots decorating the robe.  Her hair hangs straight, parted in the middle, and over this is a veil with a pattern of red and blue.  Christ also wears a long red tunic, and trousers with black embroidery on the sides.  Above this He wears a cloak of grey and brown.[1]  Whatever the actual motivation of the artist, it is clear that this is no “humble” depiction of Mary and Jesus.  They are dressed ornately, with multiple colors and patterns adorning them, and this would seem to indicate a high status.

The actual craftsmanship and depiction aside, the most striking quality of the sculpture is the carving of the faces.  They are nearly identical in terms of broad features; the mouths, brows, and noses are virtually the same.  Moreover, the expressions are similarly identical.  Neither betrays any emotion save a kind of serene calm, or even aloofness.  Then, and interestingly, the face of Christ is hardly that of a child.  His entire presence, in fact, appears to be that of a miniaturized adult, which adds to the solemn quality of the two together.  When these elements are added to the formality of the clothing, the throne, and the elegant and controlled postures, an effect is achieved that may only be called regal.  Mary’s role as the mother of Christ as God notwithstanding, this is clearly an interpretation lending great status, in mortal terms, to the central figures of Catholicism.  This is a quality so strong, it demands examination and, to some extent, reasonable speculation.  While a large amount of religious art emphasizes the Madonna and child as humble, and often in peasant clothing, this medieval contrast then seems to say a great deal about the views of Mary and Christ in the era.

Many scholars have closely examined medieval religious art and traced its various creation to the ideologies of the era, as well as to the powerful political, social, and religious forces shaping it.  Certainly, the medieval centuries marked an ongoing and often tense relationship between the fading feudalism and the authority of the Catholic Church.  This was in no uncertain terms an extended and volatile period of European history, inherently marked by upheaval and varying degrees of emphasis on Christianity.  Certainly, there was conflict between the East and the West in regard to proper forms of expression; the East developed an ideology emphasizing the painted icon, rather than statuary, as the correct religious representation, while the West, and from Charlemagne on, disputed the Byzantium thinking that only painting should be so representative.  In the West, in fact, statuary played the important role of compensating for the lack of actual shrines.[2]  This being the case, the statue in question takes on greater meaning.  There are clearly Eastern qualities to it, in aesthetic terms.  It has a “stiffness” found in much Byzantine religious art, or a fixed and somehow not human aspect to the characters.  At the same time, it also provides a sense of the relic as worship site, no matter its size.  More exactly, the formality of it alone implies a kind of demand for veneration beyond that of a painted image. It calls out for respect by virtue, at least in part, of its dimensional physicality.

As noted earlier, then, the statue may be interpreted by one unfamiliar with Christianity in a purely secular way. There is a woman of obvious high standing seated on a throne, and on her lap is a child exhibiting great gravity.  Both are dressed elaborately, and both maintain postures and expressions indicating control and power.  All that is missing, in plain terms, are crowns, because the blatant impression is one of a tribute to a queen, or other regal female, and a prince. Other elements add to this impression, if distanced from the statue itself.  For example, the art here reflects a very definite quality of medieval religious work, specifically in regard to Christ.

It is noted that no statue of the era exists in which Christ is enthroned; He is either on Mary’s lap or crucified.[3] This would seem to be in keeping with the statue as purely a Christian representation, yet there is another interpretation possible, and one generated by the posture of this Christ.  Either as infant on Mary’s lap or on the Cross, Christ is then inherently vulnerable.  At either stage of His life, He is not in full control of His circumstances.  The effect of this statue, however, defies this feeling.  He is seated on Mary’s lap, but there is no sense of vulnerability, a fact reinforced by the adult proportions of his being and his mature expression.  This being the case, there is far more a quality of the regal to the work, rather than the divine.  Put another way, if Christ as Christ lived a life of peril, and one exemplified by art portraying him as either very young or being murdered, this Christ is assured and strong, just as an empowered, medieval prince would be.

Scholarly research also strongly supports this dimension of regality to the Virgin and child piece.  Multiple such works exists, carved all over Europe during the medieval centuries and often adhering to a specific form.  The Virgin and child statue discussed here most certainly fits into the sedes sapientiae model of statuary common throughout all Europe in medieval eras.  The phrase literally translates to, “seat of wisdom,” but there is a greater meaning to be discerned.  The term is generally associated with  another, maiestas, which translates to, “majesty.”  The connection is both crucial and evident.  Here, for example, Mary is the “majesty,” as is the Christ child, and this may be seen as wholly due to their divine presences.  It is nonetheless important to note that both terms were also used in reference to secular kings.[4]  This seems to imply an inherent duality in all such works of art relying on the form.  The question becomes: is regality attached to the Madonna and child because, in the medieval world, this was the most helpful means of understanding the true authority of the figures?  Linked to this is the complex issue of how divinity itself would then be attached to secular kings.  If there is no direct answer, there is at least a likely speculation; as the medieval era sought to glorify the status of Mary and Christ, it chose to “set them up” like royalty, and this would then influence, or be influenced by, how royal figures of the time were perceived as being divine themselves.

Ultimately, then, “The Virgin and Child” statue in question allows for more than one interpretation.  Viewed in a certain light, it is very much a representation of important Christian realities. Mary, mother of God, sits in state as the Christ child is supported by her.  The hand of Christ extended in a benediction gesture also adds to the spiritual meaning, just as the gravity of the faces may imply an other-worldly, or divine, authority.  At the same time, there is no escaping the actual style employed.  There are Byzantine elements of extreme formality which, if enhancing the statue’s potential as a kind of miniature shrine, also add to an effect reinforcing sovereignty. Certainly, this is no Madonna and child as humble characters; they sit on an actual throne and are dressed in elaborate garments indicating high rank.  So too are their postures reflective of regal bearing, as they appear to be “holding audience.”  That any representation of Mary and the young Christ is intrinsically religious is obvious.  Nonetheless, how an era interprets the pair crucially reveals aspects of that era’s thinking and evolution.  This being the case, the statue strongly suggests that there was a profoundly powerful attachment of secular regality to the idea of Mary and Jesus Christ.

Bibliography

Belting, Hans. Likeness and Presence: A History of the Image before the Era of Art, translated by Edmund Jephcott. Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1994, pp. 297-310.

Cherry, John. “The Virgin and Child.” In Medieval Ivories and Works of Art: The Thomson Collection at the Art Gallery of Ontario, edited by John Lowden and John Cherry, 20. Toronto: Art Gallery of Ontario, 2008.

Forsyth, Ilene M. The Throne of Wisdom: Wood Sculptures of the Madonna in Romanesque France. Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1972, pp. 1-4 and 31-60.

[1]   John Cherry, “The Virgin and Child.” In Medieval Ivories and Works of Art: The Thomson Collection at the Art Gallery of Ontario (Toronto: Art Gallery of Ontario, 2008), 20.

[2]   Hans Belting, Likeness and Presence: A History of the Image before the Era of Art, translated by Edmund Jephcott. (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1994), 298.

[3]   Hans Belting, Likeness and Presence: A History of the Image before the Era of Art, 299.

[4]   Ilene Forsyth,  The Throne of Wisdom: Wood Sculptures of the Madonna in Romanesque France (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1972), 1.