Aubrey Beardsley: How a Devil in Woman’s Likeness Would Have Tempted Sir Bors (Le Morte d’Arthur)

“End of the pier, end of the bay
You tug my arm, and say
“Give in to lust, give up to lust
Oh, heaven knows we’ll soon be dust”
Oh, I’m not the man you think I am…

I could have been wild and I could have been free
But nature played this trick on me
She wants it now
And she will not wait
But she’s too rough
And I’m too delicate
Then, on the sand
Another man, he takes her hand
A smile lights up her stupid face
(…) I lost my faith in womanhood…”

(The Smiths, Pretty Girls Make Graves)

Aubrey Beardsley, How a Devil in Woman’s Likeness Would Have Tempted Sir Bors, for “Le Morte d’Arthur” by Thomas Malory, 1893, pen, ink and wash

Aubrey Beardsley’s pen and ink illustration “How a Devil in Woman’s Likeness Would Have Tempted Sir Bors” for Thomas Malory’s “Le Morte d’Arthur”  is as visually striking as it is interesting when one knows the literary background of it.

This particular illustration illustrates the scene where Sir Bors, one of the knights of the round table, is displaying his virtuous character and his determination to keep the vow of celibacy despite the temptations. A beautiful lady has asked Sir Bors to ‘lay with her’, which he refused and then she threatened to kill herself by jumping off of the castle battlement alongside her devoted maiden-companions. When they do jump from the tower, Sir Bors sees that they were nothing but demons wearing masks of beautiful ladies to tempt him. In Beardsley’s illustration we don’t see the moment when they jump from the tower, nor the moment of metamorphosis from beautiful women to demons, which would be an interesting illustration to see, but instead we have a scene where the women are on the castle battlement, looking down at Sir Bors, luring him with their beauty and long hairs. One is even seen reaching down towards him with her bracelets-adorned arm.

There is a beautiful, playful interchange of silhouettes and patterns in Beardsley’s illustration. Take a look at the ladies’ hairstyle, for example; while one lady’s hair is black from ink, the one next to her has a hairstyle drawn in wave-like lines. The scene is visually divided in two with Sir Bors occupying the space on the left half of the drawing and the figures of the ladies and the castle are dominating the space of the other half of the drawing. It is almost as if they are looming over poor Sir Bors who, I must say, looks rather weak and effeminate in Beardsley’s imagination. If I didn’t know the literary background of the illustration, I would never have guessed that it is a tale about Sir Bors’ integrity and determination. Perhaps he is clad in his armour, and perhaps he is holding his shield and sword, but his longish hair and downward gaze make him look more like a lost and frail flower child.

There’s not a lot of other details going on in the scene apart from those which are crucial for portraying the scene, but still the ones which are there beautifully fulfill the illustration. There are flowers growing on the meadow on which Sir Bors is standing, there are roofs of the houses in the village in the distance, and on the far left there is a row of trees with very intricately drawn leaves. One bird is seen flying ominously in the sky. Very foreboding. The overall mood of the scene is strange, a tad unsettling; the knight is effeminate, the Lady, accompanied with her maides, is too aggresive, leaning over the castle battlement and displaying her charms, leaving him with no choice almost; “she is too rought and he’s too delicate”, to paraphrase The Smiths’ song. I can almost hear the Lady looking down at Sir Bors and telling him “Oh give up to lust, heaven knows we’ll soon be dust!” Oh perhaps the Lady “knows the quick and easy way”, but Sir Bors is not the man she thinks he is! And he has proved that in the end. Typical for the decadence of the fin de siecle; the honour and chivalry of the Pre-Raphaelites had dissolved into a strangeness, like the face of Coraline’s other mother in the movie when it transforms from normal and lovely mother to a monster. In the imagination of the fin-de-siecle artists the image of a good and pure woman has been warped into the image of a man-eater and a femme fatale.

And here is a fragment of the chapter XII from the Book XVI:

“ALAS, said she, Bors, shall ye not do my will? Madam, said Bors, there is no lady in the world whose will I will fulfil as of this thing, for my brother lieth dead which was slain right late. Ah Bors, said she, I have loved you long for the great beauty I have seen in you, and the great hardiness that I have heard of you, that needs ye must lie by me this night, and therefore I pray you grant it me. Truly, said he, I shall not do it in no manner wise. Then she made him such sorrow as though she would have died. Well Bors, said she, unto this have ye brought me, nigh to mine end. And there with she took him by the hand, and bade him behold her. And ye shall see how I shall die for your love. Ah, said then he, that shall I never see.

Then she departed and went up into an high battlement, and led with her twelve gentlewomen; and when they were above, one of the gentlewomen cried, and said: Ah, Sir Bors, gentle knight have mercy on us all, and suffer my lady to have her will, and if ye do not we must suffer death with our lady, for to fall down off this hightower, and if ye suffer us thus to die for so little a thing all ladies and gentlewomen will say or you dishonour. Then looked he upward, they seemed all ladies of great estate, and richly and well beseen. Then had he of them great pity; not for that he was uncounselled in himself that lief er he had they all had lost their souls than he his, and with that they fell a down all at once unto the earth.“

Aubrey Beardsley – How Sir Tristram Drank of the Love Drink

“Then they laughed and made good cheer, and either drank to other freely, and they thought never drink that ever they drank to other was so sweet nor so good. “

Aubrey Beardsley, How Sir Tristram Drank of the Love Drink, 1893

Aubrey Beardsley’s drawing “How Sir Tristram Drank of the Love Drink” from 1893 shows a scene from Sir Thomas Malory’s prose work “Le Morte d’Arthur” in which Sir Tristram and beautiful Isoud accidentally drink the love potion thinking it was wine. In the chapter, before the love potion incident happens, we find out that Sir Tristram had come to ask for Isoud’s hand for his uncle the King Mark. His request was accepted and Isoud’s mother had prepared a love drink that the King Mark and Isoud should drink together and then they would love one another until the end of their life. By accident, Sir Tristram and Isoud drink to each other that love drink and they both feel they have never taste anything so good and sweet and that is how their romance begins. Their long-lasting love with a tragic end is a (un)fortunate result of a love potion, and they are bound to love each other for the rest of their lives but only because of a potion.

Sir Thomas Malory’s “Le Mort d’Arthur” was all the rage for the Victorian artists, especially the Pre-Raphaelites and their associates, because it offered a vision of a by-gone world of beauty, chivalry and romance and it served as a much needed source of escapism in a world that was becoming more industrialised, more fast-paced and modern each day. Still, Beardsley’s black and white ink drawings are a far cry from the vibrant, detailed and splendid canvases of the Pre-Raphaelites. There is something claustrophobic in Beardsley’s black and white world, as if all the colours and with them all the aliveness were sucked out in some perverse way. Beardsley, as a fin-de-siecle decadent, offers a rather different portrayal of the Arthurian legends. Instead of romance and chivalry, he emphasises the doomed, sensuous and nihilistic aspects of it. Typical for Beardsley, the lovers are portrayed as androgynous and in a stylised manner. His lines are sharp and harsh. Also, Beardsley’s Sir Tristram, unfortunately, looks nothing like James Franco, but alright. In the bottom part of the drawing there is an inscription “How Tristram Drank of the Love Drink” which tells us what the scene is about. The eroticised flowers that grace the drawing as well as its frame, and the serpentine lines all hint at the lovers’ fatal passion. There is also an interesting vertical spatial divide between the lovers which may symbolise the distance between the lovers’ that exists without the magic potion, for the potion is, after all, the only thing that binds them. Here is what Sir Thomas Malory writes about the event:

“Then the queen, Isoud’s mother, gave to her and Dame Bragwaine, her daughter’s gentlewoman, and unto Gouvernail, a drink, and charged them that what day King Mark should wed, that same day they should give him that drink, so that King Mark should drink to La Beale Isoud, and then, said the queen, I undertake either shall love other the days of their life. So this drink was given unto Dame Bragwaine, and unto Gouvernail. And then anon Sir Tristram took the sea, and La Beale Isoud; and when they were in their cabin, it happed so that they were thirsty, and they saw a little flasket of gold stand by them, and it seemed by the colour and the taste that it was noble wine.

Then Sir Tristram took the flasket in his hand, and said, Madam Isoud, here is the best drink that ever ye drank, that Dame Bragwaine, your maiden, and Gouvernail, my servant, have kept for themselves. Then they laughed and made good cheer, and either drank to other freely, and they thought never drink that ever they drank to other was so sweet nor so good. But by that their drink was in their bodies, they loved either other so well that never their love departed for weal neither for woe. And thus it happed the love first betwixt Sir Tristram and La Beale Isoud, the which love never departed the days of their life.” (Book IX, Chapter XXIV)

Elaine the Lily Maid of Astolat Guarded the Sacred Shield of Lancelot

“Elaine the fair, Elaine the loveable,
Elaine, the lily maid of Astolat,
High in her chamber up a tower to the east
Guarded the sacred shield of Lancelot;
Which first she placed where the morning’s earliest ray
Might strike it, and awake her with the gleam;
Then fearing rust or soilure fashioned for it
A case of silk… (…)
Nor rested thus content, but day by day,
Leaving her household and good father, climbed
That eastern tower, and entering barred her door,
Stript off the case, and read the naked shield,
Now guessed a hidden meaning in his arms,
Now made a pretty history to herself
Of every dint a sword had beaten in it,
And every scratch a lance had made upon it…
(…) … so she lived in fantasy.”

(Lord Tennyson, Idyll of the Kings: Elaine and Lancelot, 1859)

Henry Peach Robinson, Elaine Watching the Shield of Lancelot, 1859

Lady of Shalott, also known as Elaine, the Lily Maid of Astolat, is by far my favourite and most relatable character from the Arthurian legends. In the poem Lord Tennyson refers to her sweetly also as Elaine the fair, Elaine the loveable. The Pre-Raphaelite artists seem to have had a particular penchant for portraying Elaine as well, inspired partly by her rather different depictions in Lord Tennyson’s poetry as well as by Sir Thomas Malory’s “Le Mort D’Arthur”. Still, not only Victorian painters but photographers such as Henry Peach Robinson were inspired to portray the loneliness of Elaine’s life in the tower and her exceeding yearning for a knight. Elaine “hath no loyal knight and true”, as Lord Tennyson wrote in another poem about her. The poet also writes that she “lived in fantasy”, and that she is “half-sick of shadows”; hers is a lonely, lovelorn life filled with yearning and pining, and a lot of free time which she uses, it seems, to gaze day and night at Sir Lancelot’s shield. She not only gazes at it and traces its decorations with her pale fingers, but she also tends to it as if it were, and indeed it is in Elaine’s eyes, the most precious object in the world. It is something that belongs to the man she loves oh so desperately. These verses from Delmira Augustini’s poem “From Far Away” made me think of poor Elaine:

“Ah! When you are far away my whole life cries
And to the murmor of your steps even in dreams I smile.
I know you will return, that another dawn will shine.”

The basis for Robinson’s photograph seems to have been the Lord Tennyson’s description of Elaine’s obsession with Sir Lancelot’s shield. The poet writes that Elaine had placed the “sacred shield” in her chamber up a tower to the east where it can be bathed by the first rays of sun, and how she made a silk case for the shield so it doesn’t get rusty, and how she would leave her household all the time to climb the tower and gaze at the shield for hours, tracing every dint and scratch on it completely entranced, imagining all the battles and tournaments that Sir Lancelot had been in, and shivering at the thought that he may almost have died in some of them.

In Sir Thomas Malory’s telling of the events Elaine’s father, the Lord of Astolat, had organised a tournament to which King Arthur and his knights came. Sir Lancelot, who had not originally planned to attend, was persuaded to come and, upon seeing him, Elaine becamse enamoured of him and she begged him to wear her token at the torunament. Sir Lancelot, knowing how jealous Guinevere would be, decided to wear Elaine’s token and compete in the tournament but only under disguise so he takes a different shield, that of Elaine’s brother, and leaves his own shield to Elaine to keep. Here is what Lord Tennyson writes about that moment:

“(…) ’True, my child.
Well, I will wear it: fetch it out to me:
What is it?’ and she told him ’A red sleeve
Broidered with pearls,’ and brought it: then he bound
Her token on his helmet, with a smile
Saying, ’I never yet have done so much
For any maiden living,’ and the blood
Sprang to her face and filled her with delight”.

And then Lancelot tells Elaine:
’Do me this grace, my child, to have my shield
In keeping till I come.’ ’A grace to me,’
She answered.’”

Sir Lancelot gets injured in the tournament and Elaine tends to him in her chambers. When he gets better, he thanks Elaine and she returns the shield to him. Now he is aware of her affections for him but he departs nevertheless and Elain dies from a broken heart ten days later. Sir Lancelot later pays for a lavish funeral – as if that is a reparation enough for a broken heart. Hm!

Aubrey Beardsley – How Queen Guenever Rode on Maying

“SO it befell in the month of May, Queen Guenever called unto her knights of the Table Round; and she gave them warning that early upon the morrow she would ride a-Maying into woods and fields beside Westminster. “

Aubrey Beardsley, How Queen Guenever Rode on Maying, 1893-4

Aubrey Beardsley’s pen and ink drawing “How Queen Guenever Rode on Maying” shows the Queen Guinevere and her two companions on horseback. The drawing is just one of many illustrations that Beardsley had made in 1893-94 for Sir Thomas Malory’s prose work “Le Mort d’Arthur” which revolves around the world of Arthurian legends. This particular illustration, of the Queen riding in the meadows around the castle, refers to this scene from the Book 19 chapter 1 of “Le Mort d’Arthur” and Malory writes: “SO it befell in the month of May, Queen Guenever called unto her knights of the Table Round; and she gave them warning that early upon the morrow she would ride a-Maying into woods and fields beside Westminster. And I warn you that there be none of you but that he be well horsed, and that ye all be clothed in green, outher in silk outher in cloth; and I shall bring with me ten ladies, and every knight shall have a lady behind him, and everyknight shall have a squire and two yeomen; and I will that ye all be well horsed. So they made them ready in the freshest manner. … And so upon the morn they took their horses with the queen, and rode a-Maying in woods and meadows as it pleased them, in great joy and delights; for the queen had cast to have been again with King Arthur at the furthest by ten of the clock, and so was that time her purpose.” Still, the idyllic mood of the sunny May day horseriding turns sour when Sir Meliagrance, who was lusting after the Queen, took it as an opportunity to kidnap her and have her for himself at last. But that is another story…

In this particular illustration by Beardsley, the Queen and her entourage are seen enjoying a sunny May day, out and about, birds are singing and the flowers are blooming. I am assuming all this, of course, because there is nothing sunny and blooming about Beardsley’s black and white illustration. As is typical for all of Beardsley’s illustrations for Arthurian legends, the scene is reduced to its main elements and the figures are stylised and attenuated, yet very delicate looking, and the knights are always depicted as effeminate, wistful and weak. The illustration is spread out on two pages, giving Beardsley more space to develop the scene. On the left side we have the Queen Guinevere and her companions, the number of which was reduced from ten in Malory’s description to only two in Beardsley, there just wouldn’t be space for more without the illustration looking cluttered and it is not even necessary as we can get the point. On the right side is the castle from which they have just departed into nature. Some parts are exceedinly detailed, such as the leaves on the trees in the foreground, and yet the meadow is just a black space. The nature seems dead and frozen in all of Beardsley’s illustrations.

Medieval themes and especially the tales from the Arthurian legends were all the rage for Victorian artists and especially for the Pre-Raphaelite, one of whom, Burne-Jones was, at first, a sort of a protege for the young and talented Beardsley, but he changed his opinion after seeing Beardsley’s illustrations for “Le Morte D’Arthur”. Their friendship gradually cooled down and he later even spoke with anger of the ungrateful manner in which Beardsley radically departed from his influence and from his precious Pre-Raphaelite ideals. For the Pre-Raphaelites such as William Morris and Edward Burne-Jones “Le Mort d’Arthur” was little short of a sacred book. But provocation was Beardsley’s oxygen, it seems, and it is certainly natural for a younger generation or artists to rebel against the older generation. Still, Beardsley’s depiction of the scenes from Arthurian legends with the emphasis being not on romance, chastity and chivalry, but rather on the more nihilistic, sensuous and doomed aspects of it, is less a reflection of Beardsley’s uniqueness and more a reflection of the decadence of the fin-de-siecle art in general; nothing was sacred and ideals were there only to be destroyed.

Season of the Witch – Frederick Sandys: Morgan-le-Fay

Frederick Sandys (1829–1904), Morgan-le-Fay, 1863-64

Morgan le Fay is a beautiful and seductive enchantress, a witch we might even say, from Arthurian legends whose only purpose in life is to destroy King Arthur and his wonderful castle of Camelot.

I really liked the portrayal of Morgana in the series “Merlin” where she is played by the Irish actress Katie McGrath. Not only is she gorgeous with her pale skin, black hair and grey eyes, dressed in long, flowing purple, blue and green gown, but I also like the development of her character throughout the series. At first she is this slightly naive young woman and King Uther’s ward who is disturbed by the appaling treatment of druids and other people who practice magic, but over time, as she discovers her own magical powers and as she experiences betrayals from people she trusted, she develops a deep hatred for Camelot and everybody there, including King Arthur of course. Her thorny path from innocence to evil is symbolically represented in her departure from the civilised and beautiful environment of the castle of Camelot to the lonely wilderness of the Isle of Avalon. There Morgana can devote herself to things that she is most passionate about; destroying Camelot, taking over power from King Arthur and hurting him in every way possible. And that is something she is doing in this painting.

Frederic Sandys’ depiction of Morgana is perhaps the most famous one from the Victorian era and it certainly struck the imagination of the Victorians because he portrays Morgana as a dangerous femme fatale. In the painting Morgana is seen in her chamber overlooking the lake, as we can see the glistening blue lake through the window in the upper right corner. She is holding a lamp and passing it over the robe and chanting her spells over the robe that she had just woven for King Arthur on her loom. The enchanted robe is suppose to set King Arthur’s body on fire as soon as he puts it on, but that doesn’t happen, of course, because a messanger had tried the robe before him. Sandys’ depiction of Morgana truly sets a tone for her image as a dangerous and alluring femme fatale; her loose auburn hair is seen cascading down her back, the jewel like colours of her robe certainly don’t speak of modesty, and that animal skin really adds a wild touch. The face expression and the gesture of her hands are both very expressive. She seems very caught in the moment, completely consumed with hatred for King Arthur. The robe she is wearing was actually a kimono and the model for Morgana was Sandys’ lover Keomi Gray. Gazing at the Lady Morgana here made me think of another witch I love; Elaine, also known as the Love Witch from the film “The Love Witch” (2016). Elaine is also an example of a wild and dangerous woman, but she is not consumed with hatred and jealousy but rather with a desire for love. Here are some pictures from the film bellow, along with a painting by another Pre-Rapahaelite inspired painter John William Waterhouse because it’s similar in style and pose.

John William Waterhouse, The Crystal Ball, 1902

Samantha Robinson as Elaine aka “The Love Witch” in the film “The Love Witch” (2016)

John William Waterhouse – Lady of Shalott: I am half-sick of shadows

English painter John William Waterhouse was born in Rome in 1849; the same year the Pre-Raphaelite Brotherhood was formed in London. So, he wasn’t a member of the original Brotherhood, but his style and subject matter show that he embraced their aesthetic and continued the themes ranging from Shakespeare to Arthurian romances and mythology. He created a world of beauty and dreams that served as a refuge from grey and harsh reality for Victorians who were such escapists. Waterhouse portrayed the legend of the Lady of Shalott three times, in 1888, 1894 and 1916. Although the version from 1888 is by far the most popular, today we’ll take a look at the other two.

John William Waterhouse, The Lady of Shalott Looking at Lancelot, 1894

“Who is that?”, Elaine stood up quickly, abandoning her tapestry, and in two-three steps approached the window of her lonely tower, with long curious, thirsty glances soaking up the beauty of the sights never before seen directly. Her long velvety hair spilt in dozens of cascades on her back, like a shimmering murmuring waterfall, reaching her waist. Yearning, fear and gentle admiration coloured her pale, beautiful face. Never before have the beams of sun, nor the moon, drops of rain or spring zephyrs caressed it. Her white gown, its flimsy sleeves and dozens of silk petticoats, shines like the moon on the night sky against the darkness of her tower, but its gentle rustling is too far from the ears of a lovely knight who happened to be passing by. “Who is he?”, wonders Elaine, stepping forward with one leg, but leaning on the chair with her hand as soon as the words of the ancient curse run through her mind. Golden thread that wrapped itself like a snake around her dress seems to warn her too about the consequences of her actions… but Elaine can’t resist! She resisted gazing for so long, relying on shadows, pale reflections of the world in her mirror, but today the temptation to look was too irresistible, for she saw a knight riding from Camelot, passing her tower by, his armour glowing in the sun, his coal-black curls flowing underneath his helmet; it was none other than Sir Lancelot.

“She left the web, she left the loom

She made three paces thro’ the room

She saw the water-flower bloom,

She saw the helmet and the plume,

       She look’d down to Camelot.

Out flew the web and floated wide;

The mirror crack’d from side to side;

‘The curse is come upon me,’ cried

       The Lady of Shalott.” (*)

***

One sight was enough for this beautiful, naive, vulnerable lily-maiden to fall in love. Her heart ached not solely for the handsome and distant knight who innocently passed by her tower, unaware of her sad destiny, but for the music, lights and liveliness of Camelot, for people and their chatter, but her curse was never to feel the world, but to gaze at it passively in the mirror, a stale reflection was to replace the vibrancy of reality. The moment she left her tapestry, drawn to the window like a moth to the light, she felt her soul overwhelmed with love and the same moment her world fell apart for the curse has come upon her, and she cried.

 As I’ve already said in the introduction, Waterhouse painted three different portrayals of the sad life of the Lady of Shalott, but thematically and chronologically they go into different directions; the first painting, from 1888, shows Elaine floating to her death while the last one, from 1916, shows her contemplating over her life of isolation. I am certain that, had he painted three more, they would all be as imaginative, dreamy and original. This is the first, and the most famous 1888 version of which I wrote about here. It is a true gem indeed and a symbol of Pre-Raphaelite artistic vision:

So, in the last painting of the series, we see Elaine before her downfall; she’s sitting above her tapestry, taking a rest, her hands behind her head, staring dreamily into the void, while through the window we see the magnificent grey towered castle of Camelot whose red roofs shine in glory. Elaine looks wistful, but not determined, she’s lost in thoughts but not yet ready to act, with her rosy cheeks and rosy dress she looks like a lonely rose in a long-forgotten garden, and I can see a spider weaving a veil of silver and dew around her gentle petals, hushing her heart, lulling her to sleep and forget reality. This is what Lord Tennyon, a beloved poet of the Victorian era, tells us of Elaine’s life of isolation and longing:

“She hath no loyal knight and true,

       The Lady of Shalott.

 

But in her web she still delights

To weave the mirror’s magic sights,

For often thro’ the silent nights

A funeral, with plumes and lights

       And music, came from Camelot:

Or when the moon was overhead

Came two young lovers lately wed;

‘I am half sick of shadows,’ said

       The Lady of Shalott.“

***

Loneliness is making her tired and restless, her eyelids grow heavy, her gaze weary, while the pale face reveals that she is curious, impetuous, nervous…. but she is naive and knows nothing of the world, and yet she longs for something she can’t describe and pines for memories that not belong to her, sighing and whispering to the stale air of solitude “I am half-sick of shadows!” Oh, poor little maiden, will her life be wrapped in a pensive veil of gloom forever?

John William Waterhouse, I am half-sick of shadows, said the Lady of Shalott, 1916

“I watched life and wanted to be a part of it but found it painfully difficult.” (Anais Nin)

Everyone speaks of an unlived life, and through reading Jack Kerouac’s novels of wild adventures, drinking, promiscuity, and also of self-indulgences and extremes of rock stars, I’ve created in my imagination this glamorous, yet false, vision of a life lived to the fullest, but as I grow older I am more of an opinion that adult life is very sad, and that world is a confusing and scary place, one I’d rather not venture. While gazing at Elaine in her lonely tower, I can’t help but think “Don’t gaze through the window, don’t long for Camelot, there’s nothing for you there!” So, for me, the legend of the Lady of the Shalott brings to mind the conflict between living life and daydreaming. I am so fond of daydreams because they are so sweet, and life is so often so unfulfilling and sour. How to live and be truly happy when life crushes all your ideals just like the sea waves crush the rocks on the shore? And is a life spent in daydreaming a wasted one? “To be or not to be?”, Hamlet asked himself. To live or to daydream, that is the question!

How do you feel about Elaine’s destiny, and the conflict of life vs daydreams. Share your thoughts with me.

Romantic Welsh Landscapes – Paul Sandby and Richard Wilson

‘I feel as old as the Welsh hills that I love
And yet as empty as the sky above
I am as mournful as the stillness of the sea
I am so full of sorrow
Can something set me free?‘ (Nicky Wire)

1775-1800. ‘A Welsh Sunset River Landscape’ by Paul Sandby

Wales, Romanticism and Nicky Wire’s lyrics; three things that I love finally amalgamated! Did I really need another reason to write this post?

The first thing one can notice in the painting A Welsh Sunset River Landscape is a rather different atmosphere than in the usual ‘romantic landscapes’. Romanticists were infatuated with sublime; wild landscapes, storms, mists, mountains and old ruins; anything unusual and unexplored fascinated them. This painting, however, shows a rather better wetter; Sandby beautifully captured the end of a sunny day – golden sky, mountains and a castle in the background, boats sailing out of the harbour and a dash of trees in the foreground; a scene awfully picturesque but not even a tad bit sublime.

The already mentioned fascination with wildernesses along with a typical romantic wanderlust, prompted British artists to travel to wild and unexplored areas, such as Wales which was discovered by artists and wanderers even before the Lake District and the Scottish Highlands became hot-spots of Romanticism. Spirit of Romanticism first came to the fore in landscape painting and British artists became infatuated with untamed scenery as early as in the 1760s. The situation was different in France where the Neoclassical style was dominant.

1808. Paul Sandby – Pembroke Castle

Paul Sandby, an English painter, made his first recorded visit to Wales in 1770. He made three trips to Wales all together; in 1770 and 1771 he visited North Wales and painted the famous Caernarfon Castle, and in 1773 he toured South Wales in the company of Joseph Banks, an English botanist and naturalist. His three short journeys resulted in many pencil sketches, watercolours and oil paintings.

Sandby’s paintings represent the very essence of what the artists found inspirational in Wales and its magnificent nature. From castles and old ruins, sublime mountains and lakes of the north, to the splendid coastline, picturesque hills, the meandering waters of the River Wye and the famous Tintern Abbey; the seductive beauty of Wales compelled artists to capture it on canvas. I already wrote a post about Tintern Abbey – ‘Romantic and Picturesque Tintern Abbey – Its Effect on Art and Poetry‘, so don’t be shy, check it out as it is connected with the topic of this post.

1800. Paul Sandby – Pont-y-Pier near Llanroost, Denbighshire

‘In Romantic art, nature—with its uncontrollable power, unpredictability, and potential for cataclysmic extremes—offered an alternative to the ordered world of Enlightenment thought.‘

1789. Paul Sandby – Conway Castle

1800-1809. Paul Sandby – Welsh Mountain Study

Apart from artists that found inspiration in Welsh landscapes, there was an artist native to Wales who decided to capture its historic and natural beauties – Richard Wilson. Although tremendously influential in his time, even awarded with the title ‘the father of British landscape painting‘ by John Ruskin, painter Richard Wilson and his beautiful landscape paintings have largely been forgotten. Wilson was born in 1714 in Penegoes, Powys, Wales, as a son of a clergyman. He lived in Italy from 1750-57 and that’s when his interest for landscapes blossomed.

Inspired by the Baroque artists Claude Lorrain and Salvator Rosa, Wilson painted Italian and later Welsh landscapes, in turn inspiring many young artists such as John Constable and J.M.W. Turner who later formed the core of Romanticism in British art. Young Turner searched for the exact spots Wilson had painted from so that he could recapture Wilson’s dramatic work. Constable copied Wilson’s technique of moving focus from the building to the scenery.

1770s Caernarfon Castle – Richard Wilson

1770-71. Dinas Bran from Llangollen – Richard Wilson

1765-67. Snowdon from Llyn Nantlle – Richard Wilson

Richard Wilson’s painting ‘Snowdon from Llyn Nantille’ is particularly interesting to me, not as much aesthetically as symbolically. In the foreground we can see three boys, three meaningless figures compared to the vast landscape surrounding them, but the background brings us something lavishing – Snowdon, the highest mountain in Wales. The clouds are drifting around its snow-capped peak, while the lake surface reveals to us the reflection of the mountain. The summit of Snowdon is said to be the tomb of a giant Rhitta Gawr in Welsh folklore. Also, in Arthurian legends, Sir Bedivere threw Excalibur into a lake identified by some as Glaslyn on the slopes of Snowdon. Arthur’s body was later placed in a boat in the same lake to be carried to Avalon.

Another Wilson’s painting, Dinas Bran, shown above, is interesting because it shows the medieval castle Dinas Bran. Again, in Arthurian legends castle Corbenic, the domain of the Fisher King, is identified with a number of places, one of them the Dinas Bran castle itself. If you like the TV series ‘Merlin’ you must have seen the Fisher King’s castle in the episode ‘The Eye of the Phoenix’, one of my favourite episodes. I’m certain that this is not something Wilson had in mind when he painted Snowdon but I just wanted to include these little details because Welsh folklore and Arthurian legends are something that I’m interested in.

1774. The Bard – Thomas Jones

And finally, one peculiar painting that fully embodies the spirit of Romanticism – ‘The Bard’, painted in 1774 by Thomas Jones, another native Welsh artist. Once a pupil of Richard Wilson, Jones became a respectable landscape painter in his own right. The Bard is described as a ‘prophetic combination of Romanticism and nationalism‘ as it shows the emerging combination of the Celtic revival and Romanticism. The painting, inspired by Thomas Gray’s poem of the same name, brilliantly captures the mood of the poem. The poem and the painting make a great pair, combining elements of sublime, picturesque and Gothic, they foreshadowed the Romantic movement.