Pre-Raphaelite Depictions of Death

Death is a common feature in many works of art, and shown in many forms. The artists associated with the Pre-Raphaelite movement did not shy from depicting this rather sensitive subject. It is interesting that the in the Victorian period, with its many taboos, society did not hide the subject of death, but rather it became more popular than it ever had been. The 19th century gave rise to Gothic literature, helped with advances in medicine and anatomy, which dealt with the nature of death, both physical and mentally, in a different way than previously - take for example Mary Shelley's Frankenstein or the stories of Edgar Allan Poe. The invention of photography in the Victorian era in turn invented the rather macabre and original idea of Post Mortem photography, which was a way for families to keep a physical memory of the deceased, for often it was the only photograph ever taken of the person.

This post will deal with Pre-Raphaelite interpretations and depictions of Death in art.

Ophelia 1851-2 John Everett Millais

Millais' Ophelia is probably the most famous of all Pre-Raphaelite paintings that deals with death. The painting shows the point, from Shakespeare's Hamlet, where Ophelia goes mad when her lover, Hamlet, murders her father, and she drowns herself in a stream. The flowers in the stream all have significance (of which the Victorian public would have been familiar) - for example poppies signify eternal sleep; death, and violets for faithfulness, chastity or death of the young,

The Death of Chatterton 1856 Henry Wallis

Wallis' painting depicts the death of Thomas Chatterton, a young romantic poet/forger of medieval poetry. Chatterton died of arsenic poisoning at the age of 17; either a suicide attempt or an attempt to medicate a venereal disease. Chatterton was praised and considered a Romantic hero by many of the Pre-Raphaelites of that time; idolised and commemorated by Rossetti in his 'Five English poets', and by Wallis in this painting. Shelley, Keats, Wordsworth and Coleridge also wrote poems about the young poet; Keats inscribed Endymion 'to the memory of Thomas Chatterton'. Wallis, in keeping with Pre-Raphaelite ideals, used vibrant colours and realistic and symbolic details - the brightness of the poets breeches and jacket signifies his youth and genius, and the fallen rose petals and guttering candle symbolise a life cut short. The place in which Wallis painted this scene was in fact very near to where Chatterton died, though it is uncertain whether he knew that. Wallis used the young George Meredith for the figure of Chatterton.

Oh What's That in the Hollow? 1895 Edward Robert Hughes

This painting is rather unusual for Hughes, whose other works are nowhere near as dark as this. However, it is very much inkeeping with Huges' style of painting. The roses that surround the corpse look reminiscent of Edward Burne-Jone's  series of paintings The Legend of Briar Rose, completed a few years earlier. In this painting, Hughes has chosen to depict the fourth stanza from Christina Rossetti's poem Amor Mundi, in which two lovers encounter foreboding omens and dead bodies while walking together:

“Oh what is that glides quickly where velvet flowers grow thickly, 

Their scent comes rich and sickly?”—“A scaled and hooded worm.”

“Oh what’s that in the hollow, so pale I quake to follow?” 

“Oh that’s a thin dead body which waits the eternal term.”

The Stonebreaker 1857 Henry Wallis  

This painting by Wallis at first depicts a stone-breaker resting after a hard day's work. It is only after closer inspection that the viewer begins to sense something more sinister. The hammer has slipped out of the mans hand, not placed, and he lies in an unnatural position. The twilight and autumn season signify the ending of life. When I went to see this painting at the Tate, it was only from studying it in reality that I realized that the man was dead; if you look closely there is a little stoat approaching the man's foot, which would not come that close if the stonebreaker was anything other than dead. Wallis is thought to have painted The Stonebreaker as a response to the 1834 Poor Law Amendment Act, which formalised the workhouse system as a way of regulating the poor, and discouraged other forms of relief.  Given the context of this, Wallis can be seen to be commenting on the treatment of the poor at the time in England, especially the way that government dealt with the problem. On a more jolly note; the sunset is stunning.

Hypnos and Thanatos: Sleep and His Half-Brother Death 1874 John William Waterhouse

This painting by Waterhouse depicts the Ancient Greek personifications of Sleep and Death. Sleep, Hyponos, can be identified as the first brother with poppies in his hand - a symbol of sleep. Thanatos was the Ancient Greek personification of Death; a minor God who, though often referred to, rarely appeared in person. Thanatos was often shown as a cruel and heartless god, so it is unusual how Waterhouse chooses to depict him as a harmless looking youth. Interestingly, though, in Ancient Greek times Thanatos was mostly shown as a winged man, but as death became though less of a horrible demise and more of a gentle passing and part of life, Thanatos began to be depicted as a youth or even cherub; differing from Cupid by crossed legs and an upside-down torch - signifying life extinguished.

Death Crowning Innocence 1886-7 George Frederic Watts

Watts' Death Crowning Innocence is an unusual depiction of death. As with most of Watts' works the meaning is rather elusive and ambiguous. An interesting detail is that Death is portrayed as a female figure - a kind of inverted Madonna and Child - instead of eternal life the figures represent the certainty of death as the final part of life. The use of a female motherly figure could also suggest the dangers of childbirth at the times - as well as being a giver of life, the mother can also bring death upon the child. The composition of this painting is intriguing - the viewer is looking in between the wings of Death, the light source is uncertain and the background is dark; all the viewer's attention is focused on the two figures.

The Angel of Death 1881 Evelyn De Morgan 

This painting by Evelyn De Morgan depicts the Angel of Death. The gender of the figure is ambiguous and it seems almost a gentle being - Death is not an unwanted presence, but a thing to be embraced. The composition of the painting is very effective - the posture of the two figures echo each other, and it is very flat in composition, like a Renaissance painting, drawing the viewer's eye to the figures in the centre. The cypress trees in the background are symbols of death - in Ancient Greek and Roman times the cypress was known as 'the mourning tree' and it was linked with the Gods of the Underworld, Fate and the Furies. The cypress is also though of as a symbol of hope - for the trees are pointing towards heaven. 

Field of the Slain 1916 Evelyn De Morgan

In this painting De Morgan depicts the Angel of Death as female, lending a rather motherly, caring quality to a figure that is usually morbid and sinister. Given the date and the title, this painting could be taken as De Morgan's response to the horrors of the First World War.

Twilight, Pity and Death 1889 Simeon Solomon

Death features a lot in many of Simeon Solomon's works. The above watercolour shows personifications of Twilight, head lifted to the sky; Pity, a flame burning above the head; and Death, eyes closed and clad in armor. The depiction of Death is an interesting one; it is one of the most discernibly male figures in Solomon's work - most of his figures are decidedly androgynous and ambiguous. Below are some other of Solomon's drawings which feature Death.

. L'Angelo Della Morte (The Angel of Death) 1896

Death Awakening Sleep 1896

Sin Gazing Upon Eternal Death 

Sleep At The Antichamber Of Death 1896

The Story of Daphne and Apollo

The myth of Daphne and Apollo has been a favourite story to depict in art for hundreds of years. The story is that the god Apollo falls in love with a young maiden, Daphne, who flees from his advances. When caught, Daphne calls to the gods for help, and is consequently turned into a laurel tree. This extract is taken from Ovid's Metamorphoses, and I have included a small selection of art depicting the myth, from different periods of history.

'He would have said more, but the frightened maiden fled from him, leaving him with his words unfinished; even then, she was graceful to see, as the wind bared her limbs and its gusts stirred her garments, blowing them out behind her. Her hair streamed in the light breeze, and her beauty was enhanced by her flight. But the youthful god could not endure to waste his time on further blandishments and, as love itself prompted, sped swiftly after her. Even so, when a Gallic hound spies a hare in some open meadow he tries by his swiftness to secure his prey, while the hare, by her swiftness, seeks safety: the dog, seeming just about to fasten on his quarry, hopes at every moment that he has her, and grazes her hindquarters with outstretched muzzle, but the hare, uncertain whether she has not already been caught, snatches herself out of his very jaws, and escapes the teeth which almost touch her.
Thus the god and the nymph sped on, one made swift by hope and one by fear; but he who pursued was swifter, for he was assisted by love's wings. He gave the fleeing maiden no respite, but followed close on  her heels, and his breath touched the locks that lay scattered on her neck, till Daphne's strength was spent, and she grew pale and weary with the effort of her swift flight. Then she aw the waters of the Peneus; 'O father,' she cried, 'help me! If you rivers really have divine powers, work some transformation, and destroy this beauty which makes me please all too well!' Her prayer was scarcely ended when a deep languor took hold of her limbs, her soft breath was enclosed in thin bark, her hair grew into leaves, her arms into branches, and her feet that were lately so swift were held fast by sluggish roots, while her face became the treetop. Nothing of her was left, except her shining loveliness.
Even as a tree, Phoebus loved her. He placed his hand against the trunk, and felt her heart still beating under the new bark. Embracing the branches as if they were limbs he kissed the wood: but, even as a tree, she shrank from his kisses. Then the god said: 'Since you cannot be my bride, surely you will at least be my tree. My hair, my lyre, my quivers will always display the laurel. You will accompany the generals of Rome, when the Capitol beholds their long triumphal processions, when joyful voices raise the song of victory. You will stand by Augustus' gateposts too, faithfully guarding his doors, and will hang there. Further, as my head is ever young, my tresses never shorn, so do you also, at all times, wear the crowning glory of never-fading foliage.' Paean, the healer, had done: the laurel tree inclined her newmade branches, and seemed to nod her leafy top, as if it were a head, in consent.'

John William Waterhouse

Bernini

Antonio del Pollaiolo

Arthur Hacker

Hubert von Herkomer

Not art, but an amazing photo nonetheless - the tree actually looks like a dancer...Daphne?!?

Waterhouse's Circe

In my Classics class, we have just finished studying Homer's The Odyssey. I have come to really love The Odyssey - it is a great story and is surprisingly easy to read, given it is over two thousand years old. One of my favourite characters that is included in the epic poem is the Goddess Circe. Circe was a favourite subject of Pre-Raphaelite painters; the wonderful John William Waterhouse produced three finished paintings.    

Circe Offering The Cup To Ulysses 1891

This painting depicts the moment when Circe offers the cup of poison to Odysseus/Ulysses which will turn him into an animal, like his crewmen before. In this version Circe looks rather powerful, for at this moment she does not realise that Odysseus has taken an antidote given to him by the god Hermes. The mirror is useful to let much needed light into the scene and to give the viewer a chance to see Odysseus. Circles are used to good effect in this painting; the mirror, the tiled floor, the curve of marble and chair, and the cup. They balance out the straight lines of the column, the diagonal line of Circe's dress and her outstretched arms. 

Circe Invidiosa 1892

This second Waterhouse painting is not a depiction of Circe from The Odyssey, but taken from Ovid's Metamorphoses. In Metamorphoses the story is told of Glaucus and Scylla ( another Odyssey character). The sea-god Glaucus falls in love with the beautiful Scylla, and asks Circe for a love potion. Circe, however, fancies taking Glaucus as her lover and, when he refuses, she takes revenge and pours poison into the pool where Scylla bathes; transforming her into a monster. The act of poisoning the water is the scene which Waterhouse chose to depict for his second painting of the Greek sorceress. The strange sea monster (?) at her feet hints at the outcome of this jealous act. Again, different shapes are contrasted in the composition  the vertical features such as the rectangular canvas shape, Circe's body elongated by the fall of her dress, and the thin stream of poison, are balanced by the circular shape of the bowl, the curl of the ghostly tail, and the ripples and bubbles in the water. The colours in this painting are really beautiful. the variants of gorgeous blue are balanced by the darker hues of Circe's dress and the woods and the pale colour of her skin. I find her dress is very aesthetic - the lose flowing lines and pattern of peacock feathers, which is also suggestive of vanity.

 Circe (The Sorceress) 1911-15

This is the last painting of Circe that Waterhouse did. I think it is quite different from the previous two, for Circe is not shown as a powerful enchantress, but rather a normal woman. She looks quite sullen and thoughtful. The colour orange is prevalent and varies in shades, most striking is Circe's hair and dress. Beautiful!
Best wishes

La Belle Dame Sans Merci

Having read John Keats' poem La Belle Dame Sans Merci for the first time yesterday, I wish to share this beautiful poem and some of the lovely artworks inspired by it. John Keats was very popular with the Pre-Raphaelites, Rossetti in particular. Rossetti himself insisted that Keats be included in the 'List of Immortals' of 1848. Throughout the various Pre-Raphaelite phases Keat's poem continued to be a source of inspiration with generations of painters.

O what can ail thee, knight-at-arms,

Alone and palely loitering?

The sedge has withered from the lake,

And no birds sing.

O what can ail thee, knight-at-arms,

So haggard and so woe-begone?

The squirrel’s granary is full,

And the harvest’s done.

I see a lily on thy brow,

With anguish moist and fever-dew,

And on thy cheeks a fading rose

Fast withereth too.

I met a lady in the meads,

Full beautiful—a faery’s child,

Her hair was long, her foot was light,

And her eyes were wild.

I made a garland for her head,

And bracelets too, and fragrant zone;

She looked at me as she did love,

And made sweet moan.

I set her on my pacing steed,

And nothing else saw all day long,

For sidelong would she bend, and sing

A faery’s song.

She found me roots of relish sweet,

And honey wild, and manna-dew,

And sure in language strange she said—

‘I love thee true’.

She took me to her Elfin grot,

And there she wept and sighed full sore,

And there I shut her wild wild eyes

With kisses four.

And there she lullèd me asleep,

And there I dreamed—Ah! woe betide!—

The latest dream I ever dreamt

On the cold hill side.

I saw pale kings and princes too,

Pale warriors, death-pale were they all;

They cried—‘La Belle Dame sans Merci

Thee hath in thrall!’

I saw their starved lips in the gloam,

With horrid warning gapèd wide,

And I awoke and found me here,

On the cold hill’s side.

And this is why I sojourn here,

Alone and palely loitering,

Though the sedge is withered from the lake,

And no birds sing.

 This is an early pencil sketch by Rossetti, from April 1848 - a few months before the PRB was founded. The first of three sketches Rossetti would do for this poem, a watercolour of a similar composition was done in 1855 with Lizzie Siddal as the model. This sketch is just a little early for Lizzie to be the model, but I do think that the knight looks like Walter Deverell.
The unfinished sketch below is a later one, 1855, with Lizzie most probably as the model. Though unfinished, it is a beautiful work, and illustrates the 6th stanza which is written above the horse's head. (always nice to see Rossetti's handwriting) I am surprised that Rossetti never completed a full painting of La Belle Dame sans Merci, despite doing some sketches.

                                                             

Frank Cadogan Cowper 1926

I love this version by Frank Cadogan Cowper. He is often described as 'the last of the Pre-Raphaelites' because he carried on the Pre-Raphaelite style long after that kind of work had fallen out of favour with the public. It is very aesthetic in its composition; focusing mainly on the beautiful woman in the centre, with the sleeping knight lying rather comically in the foreground, the evening light glinting of his armor and the poppies, symbolic of sleep and death, are beginning to grow around him.  The woman is traditional Pre-Raphaelite, but  her dress I find unusual; rather Art Nouveau - the date of this painting is 1926, though an earlier version is 1905; these both would have been after the Art Nouveau period, which I think was influential of this painting.

Sir Frank Dicksee 1903

Ah! What a lovely painting! Frank Dicksee sure knows how to paint a really aesthetically pleasing work of art. The landscape, horse and woman are all beautiful. I especially like the details on the horse's reins and the overall glowing light. However, I do admit to finding the knight a little odd. Yes, he is wonderfully painted, but why is he standing in that position? It looks more like something from a religious subject. I think Dicksee is depicting, like Rossetti, stanza 6 where the woman is enchanting the knight with her singing, rather like the sirens... and he cannot look at anything else but her. 

John William Waterhouse is a favourite of mine, and this version of La Belle Dame Sans Merci is really lovely. This depiction I find a little darker than the others, for in the other paintings the woman is rather removed, but in Waterhouse's version we see the woman in the act of enchanting the knight and literally trapping him, with that lovely hair of hers... how I wish I had hair like that! The light of the woman's face and dress contrasted with the man in shadow makes the audience focus on her; she is the primary subject in the painting. Also, her dress is beautiful...The colour of it is divine!

So, I now feel inspired to read more of John Keats' poems, and I also fancy watching that film about Keats with the great Ben Whishaw in it - a good reason to watch any film I think! 

Best Wishes

Medea

When I decided to study Classical Civilization at A-Level, my only knowledge of the Classical world was watching the great films Jason and the Argonauts and Gladiator, and various classical subjects depicted in art. Taking this most curious and wondrous subject has to be one of the best decisions I have made - it is so very interesting! One painting always fascinated me - Medea by Frederick Sandys. I wondered what the story was. After going to see Euripides' play of the same name, I decided to research more about this interesting mythical woman. 

Medea by Frederick Sandys 1868. The model was Keomi Gray, a Gypsy woman Sandys used for many of his paintings. They had two sons together, before Sandys married the actress Mary Emma Jones (known as Miss Clive). The painting was submitted to the Royal Academy in 1868 but was rejected because of the paintings subject. It was accepted the following year and received good reviews. 

In Greek Mythology, Medea is best known as the wife of the hero Jason, of Jason and the Argonauts fame. She was the daughter of King Aeetes of Colchis, niece of Circe and granddaughter to the sun god Helios. She met Jason and fell in love with him, offering to help him on his quest for the golden fleece, but only if he took her home as his wife. Medea is often depicted as an enchantress or sorceress - she helps Jason using magic; potions, mysterious drugs, predicting the future. She also kills her brother... and Jason kills her understandably outraged father. According to some sources they stop by her aunt Circe to be cleansed for the murders.

Medea by Evelyn De Morgan. I find this depiction rather unusual, because to just glance at the painting you would not suppose this beautiful and serene woman to be a murderous sorceress. I love the flowing lines and colours of the fabric - one of my favourite aspects of De Morgans work. 

In his play, Euripides focuses on the later part of Medea's life. Jason has abandoned her for another king's daughter - driven mad by rage she swears her revenge. This takes the form of sending a poisoned dress to Jason's new wife; resulting in the woman's and her father's deaths. Still bent on revenge, Medea also kills her two children by Jason. After their murder, she flees to Athens on a golden chariot pulled by dragons, organised by her sun god grandfather... I suppose the ancient Greek equivalent to a fancy sports car?

 Jason and Medea by John William Waterhouse. In this painting, like many, Medea seems very much in control, Jason seems a little bemused and, rightfully, rather worried. In the play, Jason is not portrayed as the manly hero he is famed for, but more a little cowardly man, scared of his ex-wife. This contrast serves to highlight Medea's power over men. 

Medea 1862 by Eugene Delacroix

Because this is Ancient Greek myth, there cannot be just one ending - there are many, and none are happy. According to some, Medea murders her children by accident, in other variants she does not kill them at all. Her deliberate murders seem to be an invention of Euripides. As well as having the opportunity to watch some tremendous acting, I was very interested in the content of the play. Because the version I saw was a modern day adaptation, a mad, scary, powerful woman did not seem too far fetched, and her actions seemed like something out of a soap opera. However, to an ancient Greek audience this would have been rather controversial, I think, and I was surprised that her actions went unpunished - she was not put in her rightful place by a man or even punished by the gods by dying horribly. The modernization did loose some context - I am rather disappointed that there was no dragon at the end, though I was consoled with it being a very bloody ending - but it was very good, and interesting to contrast between modern and ancient perceptions. If the chance arises that you are able to see any version of this play please do - it is very interesting and thoroughly enjoyable. I hope my post was of some use to anybody wishing to know a little more about the interesting Medea and I hope my choice of paintings helped.
Best Wishes