Mary Magdalen's Funeral Tears (by Robert Southwell): Dedication

Having completed for the time being my posts on Southwell's poetry with the last post on his magnificent 'Saint Peters Complaynt', I aim to explore some of his better known prose works, beginning with 'Mary Magdalen's Funeral Tears', regarded by many as his best-known and most influential prose work.

For reasons of convenience, I am using the text as it appears in a volume entitled 'Mary Magdalen's Funeral Tears; The triumphs over Death; and An Epistle of Comfort; &c.,' edited by W. Jos. Walter and published by Keating & Co, London, in 1822.

Mary Magdalen’s Funeral Tears was the second of Southwell’s prose works to appear in print, following on from An Epistle of Comfort (1587) . It was published in late 1591 with an author’s preface to the reader, and dedicated to Dorothy Arundel  ('Mistress A.D.'), possibly the daughter of Sir John Arundel of Lanherne (1500-1557). The work is sometimes traced to Origen's homily on Mary Magdalen’s encounter with Christ on Easter morning.  Mary Magdalen’s Funeral Tears is in the form of a meditation on this encounter. It is written as a dialogue between Mary, the angels in the empty tomb, Christ, and the narrator.

Dedication

To the Worshipful and Virtuous Gentlewoman,

MISTRESS A.D. 

Your virtuous requests, to which your deserts gave
the force of a commandment, won me to satisfy your
devotion in penning some little Discourse of the
blessed Mary Magdalen. And among other glorious
examples of this Saint's life, I have made choice of her
Funeral Tears, in which as she most uttered the great
vehemency of her fervent love to Christ, so hath she
given therein largest scope to dilate upon the same -
a theme pleasing, I hope, unto yourself, and fittest
for the time. For as passion, and especially this of
love, is in these days the chief commander of most
men's actions, and the idol to which both tongues and
pens do sacrifice their ill-bestowed labours ; so there
is nothing now more needful to be treated, than how
to direct these humours into their due courses, and to
draw this flood of affections into the right channel.
Passions I allow, and loves I approve ; only I would
wish that men would alter their object, and better
their intent : for Passions being sequels of our nature,
and allotted unto us as the handmaid's of Reason,
there can be no doubt but as their Author is good, and
their end godly, so their use, tempered in the mean,
implieth no offence.

Love is but the infancy of true Charity, yet sucking
Nature's breast, and swathed in her bands ; which then
groweth to perfection, when Faith, besides natural
motives, proposeth higher and nobler grounds of
amity. Hatred and Anger are the necessary officers
of Prowess and Justice ; Courage being cold and dull,
and Justice, in due revenge, slack and careless, where
hate of the fault will not make it odious, and Anger
setteth not an edge on the sword that punisheth or
preventeth wrongs. Desire and Hope are the parents
of Diligence and Industry ; the nurses of Perseverance
and Constancy ; the seeds of Valour and Magnanimity ;
the death of Sloth, and the breath of all Virtue.
Fear and Dislikes are the scouts of Discretion, the har-
bingers of Wisdom and Policy, killing idle Repentance
in the cradle, curbing Rashness with deliberation.
Audacity is the armour of Strength, and the guide of
Glory, breaking the ice to the hardest exploits, and
crowning Valour with honourable victory .  Sorrow
is the sister of Mercy, and a maker of compass-
ion ; weeping with others' tears, and grieved with
their harms. It is both the salve and smart of sin ;
curing that which it chastiseth with true remorse, and
preventing need of new cure, with the detestation of
the disease. Despair of the success is a bit against evil
attempts, and the hearse of idle hopes, ending endless
things in their first motion to begin. True Joy is the
rest and reward of virtue, seasoning difficulties with
delight, and giving a present essay of future happiness.
Finally, there is no passion but hath a serviceable
use, either in pursuit of good, or avoidance of evil ;
and they are all benefits of God, and helps of Nature,
so long as they are kept under Virtue's correction.

But as too much of the best is evil, and excess in virtue
vice, so passions let loose without limits are imper-
fections ; nothing being good that wanteth measure.
And as the sea is unfit for traffic, not only when the
winds are too boisterous, but also when they are too
still, and a middle gale and motion of the waves serv-
eth best the sailor's purpose ; so neither too strong
nor too calm a mind giveth virtue the first course, but
a middle temper between them both, in which the
well-ordered passions are wrought to prosecute, not
suffered to pervert, any virtuous endeavour.  Such
were the passions of this holy Saint, which were not
guides to reason, but attendants upon it ; and com-
manded by such a love as could never exceed, because
the thing loved was of infinite perfection. And if her
weakness of faith (an infirmity then common to all
Christ's disciples) did suffer her understanding to be
deceived, yet was her will so settled in a most sincere
and perfect love, that it led all her passions with the
same bias, recompensing the want of belief with the
strange effects of an excellent charity.

This love, and these passions, are the subject of this
Discourse, which, though it reach not the dignity of
Mary's deserts, yet shall I think my endeavours well
repaid if it may but woo some pens, more skilful, from
unworthy labours, either to supply, in this matter,
my want of ability, or in other of like piety (whereof
the Scripture is full) to exercise their happier talents.
I know that none can express a passion that he feeleth
not, neither doth the pen deliver but what it copieth
out of the mind ; and therefore the finest wits are now
given to write passionate discourses. I would wish
them to make choice of such passions as it neither
would be shame to utter, nor sin to feel. But whether
my wishes in this behalf take effect or not, I reap, at
the least, this reward of my pains - that I have showed
my desire to answer your courtesy, and set forth the
due praises of this glorious Saint.

Your loving friend,

R.S.

Notes

Origen: Origen of Alexandria[a] (c. 185 – c. 253), an early Christian scholar, ascetic, and theologian.

The encounter between Mary Magdalen and the Risen Christ as told in St John's Gospel

They have taken away the Lord... JJ Tissot. Brooklyn Museum.

[1] And on the first day of the week, Mary Magdalen cometh early, when it was yet dark, unto the sepulchre; and she saw the stone taken away from the sepulchre. [2] She ran, therefore, and cometh to Simon Peter, and to the other disciple whom Jesus loved, and saith to them: They have taken away the Lord out of the sepulchre, and we know not where they have laid him. [3] Peter therefore went out, and that other disciple, and they came to the sepulchre. [4] And they both ran together, and that other disciple did outrun Peter, and came first to the sepulchre. [5] And when he stooped down, he saw the linen cloths lying; but yet he went not in.

[6] Then cometh Simon Peter, following him, and went into the sepulchre, and saw the linen cloths lying, [7] And the napkin that had been about his head, not lying with the linen cloths, but apart, wrapped up into one place. [8] Then that other disciple also went in, who came first to the sepulchre: and he saw, and believed. [9] For as yet they knew not the scripture, that he must rise again from the dead. [10] The disciples therefore departed again to their home.

[11] But Mary stood at the sepulchre without, weeping. Now as she was weeping, she stooped down, and looked into the sepulchre, [12] And she saw two angels in white, sitting, one at the head, and one at the feet, where the body of Jesus had been laid. [13] They say to her: Woman, why weepest thou? She saith to them: Because they have taken away my Lord; and I know not where they have laid him. [14] When she had thus said, she turned herself back, and saw Jesus standing; and she knew not that it was Jesus. [15] Jesus saith to her: Woman, why weepest thou? whom seekest thou? She, thinking it was the gardener, saith to him: Sir, if thou hast taken him hence, tell me where thou hast laid him, and I will take him away.

Noli me tangere...JJ Tissot. Brooklyn Museum.

[16] Jesus saith to her: Mary. She turning, saith to him: Rabboni (which is to say, Master). [17] Jesus 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. [18] Mary Magdalen cometh, and telleth the disciples: I have seen the Lord, and these things he said to me. [John 20]