Ad Blankestijn: The Lady of Shalott by Waterhouse (1888)

In The Lady of Shalott by Waterhouse, a young woman with flaming red her and a white dress, is sitting in a wooden boat, on a river which flows through a wooded area. In the distance is an open vista with grassland and hills - we also see an old stone tower behind the trees on the left. In her right hand she holds the chain which is used to moor the boat. Over the side of the boat hangs an embroidered tapestry. In front of the boat we see three candles of which two have been extinguished, as well as a crucifix. Autumn leaves are floating on the water, and in the reeds we see two swallows flitting around.

[Waterhouse, the Lady of Shalott (1888)]

What are we seeing?

The Lady of Shalott (whose name was Elaine of Astolat) is a figure from Arthurian legend and also the title of a famous poem that Alfred Tennyson based on her story in 1832, about a young woman who suffers under a mysterious curse which holds her captive in a tower on an island called Shalott. For some unknown reason, she is forced to weave and go on weaving and is not allowed to leave her loom. She is also forbidden to look out the window and the outside world is only visible to her through its reflection in a mirror. There she can see the river which encircles the island and which flows down to King Arthur’s castle at Camelot, and she also sees laborers in the fields, and sometimes knights riding by. She embroiders the scenes she sees reflected in her mirror.

One day she glimpses the reflected image of the handsome knight Lancelot, and, suddenly overcome by love, she cannot resist looking at him directly. She abandons her loom and rushes to the window. This causes the mirror to crack from side to side, and she feels the curse come upon her. She leaves the tower and boards a boat that drifts downstream to Camelot, "singing her last song," but dying before she reaches there. Waterhouse shows her letting go the boat’s chain, while staring at a crucifix placed in front of three guttering candles (symbolizing that her life is about to be extinguished). Not lying down, as she was often depicted before, but with her head held high, she approaches death. She has written a message for those who will find her body, as the curse will punish her with the death sentence. In this, Tennyson’s poem ends as did many other stories popularized during the era: with the untimely demise of the lovely heroine.

In Thomas Malory's 15th-century compilation of Arthurian tales, Le Morte d'Arthur, the story is rather different - in her father's castle, Elaine of Astolat nurses a wounded Lancelot back to health, at which time she falls in love with him. However, when he is leaving, Lancelot offers to pay her, which she angrily refuses. After Lancelot has gone away, Elaine dies of heartbreak and in accordance with her instructions, her body is placed in a small boat, clutching a lily in one hand, and her final letter in the other. She then floats down the river to Camelot, where she is discovered by King Arthur's court. Lancelot is summoned and hears the contents of the letter, which explains what happened. Ashamed, he pays for her rich burial. Tennyson reworked this story in the poem "Lancelot and Elaine" in his Idylls of the King.

[Elaine, by Toby Rosenthal (1874) depicts Elaine’s postmortem voyage from Astolat to Camelot: “In her right hand the lily, in her left / The letter—all her bright hair streaming down.” This American painting was heavily influenced by the Pre-Raphaelites. Rosenthal’s work sparked a sort of "Elaine hysteria" in the United States: clubs were formed in her honor, dirges and waltzes were composed, and copies of Idylls of the King sold out in bookstores. See The Phenomenon of Elaine at the website of the Art Institute of Chicago.]

Tennyson

Alfred Tennyson (1809-1892) is one of the most popular English poets. He often addressed English mythology (for example the Arthurian legend in Idylls of the King 1859) and history (for example The Charge of the Light Brigade) and thus offered a wide variety of templates for the Victorian art movements of the 19th century, such as the Aesthetic Movement, the Arts and Craft Movement, which later ended in Art Nouveau, and the Pre-Raphaelite Brotherhood, for which his lyrical ballad The Lady of Shalott in particular was a recurring theme. Tennyson's early poetry, with its medievalism and powerful visual imagery, was a major influence on the Pre-Raphaelite Brotherhood. Two aspects, in particular, of "The Lady of Shalott" intrigued these artists: the idea of the lady trapped in her tower and the dying woman floating down the river towards Camelot.

But what does this poem mean? Several explanations are possible. One is about the restricted position of women in Victorian times, when women were expected to be chaste wives and mothers and stay at home. The Lady of Shalott is likewise a passive and pure woman who has been locked up. Compare that to the position of Lancelot and other men, who are free to go out and have various adventures. In that case, we can see the Lady of Shalott's escape from the tower as an act of defiance, a symbol of female empowerment.

On the other hand, the poem can also be interpreted as a metaphor for the solitary nature of the artist's creative life, suggesting that the artist must live in isolation from the surrounding world. When he mingles with the world, he dies as an artist. Retired in the tower, the Lady of Shalott works hard at her art; but when she is interrupted, she is doomed. Over the course of his career, Tennyson often felt overwhelmed by his celebrity status, which compromised his privacy and interrupted his writing.

Waterhouse

John William Waterhouse (1849-1917) studied briefly at the Royal Academy of Arts in London, after which he set up his independent studio and became known as a Pre-Raphaelite painter. His preference was for mythological representations. With his colorful images of women, Waterhouse was much appreciated in the British Empire and at the World Fairs in the 19th century. He drew inspiration from writers such as Ovid, Keats, Boccaccio, Shakespeare, Tennyson and Dante. One of his most famous paintings is the present painting of The Lady of Shalott, now on display at the Tate Gallery in London. He actually painted three different scenes from this story, in 1888, 1894, and 1916. Another of Waterhouse's favorite subjects was Ophelia; the most familiar of his paintings of Ophelia depicts her just before her death, putting flowers in her hair as she sits on a tree branch leaning over a lake. Like The Lady of Shalott and other Waterhouse paintings, it deals with a woman dying in or near water.

Waterhouse was married to Esther Kenworthy Waterhouse, who was a painter of flower-paintings in her own right. It is thought that she modeled for her husband in The Lady of Shalott. The landscape setting is highly naturalistic; the painting was made during Waterhouse’s brief period of plein-air painting.

Two more scenes from The Lady of Shalott

Waterhouse painted two more scenes from The Lady of Shalott. These are:

In 1894, The Lady of Shalott Looking at Lancelot (now in the Leeds Art Gallery). This is a pivotal scene in the third part of the poem: the Lady spies "bold Sir Launcelot" in her mirror: the sight of the handsome knight and his singing draws her away from her loom to the window, golden yarn still clinging around her knees, bringing down the curse upon her as "the mirror crack'd from side to side." She leaves the tower to take a boat across the river, but meets her death before she reaches Camelot. Behind her you see the cracked mirror, which reveals part of the scene (it is not a window you see, but a reflection of a window and the scenery outside).

In 1915, I Am Half-Sick of Shadows, Said the Lady of Shalott (Art Gallery of Ontario, Toronto). The painting shows the Lady of Shalott resting from her weaving. The title is a quotation from Tennyson's poem: the Lady is still confined in her tower, weaving a tapestry, viewing the world outside only through the reflection in the large mirror in the background. The mirror reveals a bridge over a river leading to the walls and towers of Camelot. The scene is set shortly before an image of Lancelot appears in the mirror, enticing the Lady out of her tower to her death - so just before the previous painting. The lady wears a red dress, in a room with Romanesque columns holding up the arches of the window reflected in the mirror. The shuttles of the loom resemble boats, perhaps foreshadowing the Lady's death.

The poem by Tennyson (1832)

Part I

On either side the river lie
Long fields of barley and of rye,
That clothe the wold and meet the sky;
And thro' the field the road runs by
       To many-tower'd Camelot;
The yellow-leaved waterlily
The green-sheathed daffodilly
Tremble in the water chilly
       Round about Shalott.

Willows whiten, aspens shiver.
The sunbeam showers break and quiver
In the stream that runneth ever
By the island in the river
       Flowing down to Camelot.
Four gray walls, and four gray towers
Overlook a space of flowers,
And the silent isle imbowers
       The Lady of Shalott.

Underneath the bearded barley,
The reaper, reaping late and early,
Hears her ever chanting cheerly,
Like an angel, singing clearly,
       O'er the stream of Camelot.
Piling the sheaves in furrows airy,
Beneath the moon, the reaper weary
Listening whispers, ' 'Tis the fairy,
       Lady of Shalott.'

The little isle is all inrail'd
With a rose-fence, and overtrail'd
With roses: by the marge unhail'd
The shallop flitteth silken sail'd,
       Skimming down to Camelot.
A pearl garland winds her head:
She leaneth on a velvet bed,
Full royally apparelled,
       The Lady of Shalott.

Part II

No time hath she to sport and play:
A charmed web she weaves alway.
A curse is on her, if she stay
Her weaving, either night or day,
       To look down to Camelot.
She knows not what the curse may be;
Therefore she weaveth steadily,
Therefore no other care hath she,
       The Lady of Shalott.

She lives with little joy or fear.
Over the water, running near,
The sheepbell tinkles in her ear.
Before her hangs a mirror clear,
       Reflecting tower'd Camelot.
And as the mazy web she whirls,
She sees the surly village churls,
And the red cloaks of market girls
       Pass onward from Shalott.

Sometimes a troop of damsels glad,
An abbot on an ambling pad,
Sometimes a curly shepherd lad,
Or long-hair'd page in crimson clad,
       Goes by to tower'd Camelot:
And sometimes thro' the mirror blue
The knights come riding two and two:
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.

Part III

A bow-shot from her bower-eaves,
He rode between the barley-sheaves,
The sun came dazzling thro' the leaves,
And flam'd upon the brazen greaves
       Of bold Sir Lancelot.
A red-cross knight for ever kneel'd
To a lady in his shield,
That sparkled on the yellow field,
       Beside remote Shalott.

The gemmy bridle glitter'd free,
Like to some branch of stars we see
Hung in the golden Galaxy.
The bridle bells rang merrily
       As he rode down from Camelot:
And from his blazon'd baldric slung
A mighty silver bugle hung,
And as he rode his armour rung,
       Beside remote Shalott.

All in the blue unclouded weather
Thick-jewell'd shone the saddle-leather,
The helmet and the helmet-feather
Burn'd like one burning flame together,
       As he rode down from Camelot.
As often thro' the purple night,
Below the starry clusters bright,
Some bearded meteor, trailing light,
       Moves over green Shalott.

His broad clear brow in sunlight glow'd;
On burnish'd hooves his war-horse trode;
From underneath his helmet flow'd
His coal-black curls as on he rode,
       As he rode down from Camelot.
From the bank and from the river
He flash'd into the crystal mirror,
'Tirra lirra, tirra lirra:'
       Sang 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.

Part IV

In the stormy east-wind straining,
The pale yellow woods were waning,
The broad stream in his banks complaining,
Heavily the low sky raining
       Over tower'd Camelot;
Outside the isle a shallow boat
Beneath a willow lay afloat,
Below the carven stern she wrote,
       The Lady of Shalott.

A cloudwhite crown of pearl she dight,
All raimented in snowy white
That loosely flew (her zone in sight
Clasp'd with one blinding diamond bright)
       Her wide eyes fix'd on Camelot,
Though the squally east-wind keenly
Blew, with folded arms serenely
By the water stood the queenly
       Lady of Shalott.

With a steady stony glance—
Like some bold seer in a trance,
Beholding all his own mischance,
Mute, with a glassy countenance—
       She look'd down to Camelot.
It was the closing of the day:
She loos'd the chain, and down she lay;
The broad stream bore her far away,
       The Lady of Shalott.

As when to sailors while they roam,
By creeks and outfalls far from home,
Rising and dropping with the foam,
From dying swans wild warblings come,
       Blown shoreward; so to Camelot
Still as the boathead wound along
The willowy hills and fields among,
They heard her chanting her deathsong,
       The Lady of Shalott.

A longdrawn carol, mournful, holy,
She chanted loudly, chanted lowly,
Till her eyes were darken'd wholly,
And her smooth face sharpen'd slowly,
       Turn'd to tower'd Camelot:
For ere she reach'd upon the tide
The first house by the water-side,
Singing in her song she died,
       The Lady of Shalott.

Under tower and balcony,
By garden wall and gallery,
A pale, pale corpse she floated by,
Deadcold, between the houses high,
       Dead into tower'd Camelot.
Knight and burgher, lord and dame,
To the planked wharfage came:
Below the stern they read her name,
       The Lady of Shalott.

They cross'd themselves, their stars they blest,
Knight, minstrel, abbot, squire, and guest.
There lay a parchment on her breast,
That puzzled more than all the rest,
       The wellfed wits at Camelot.
'The web was woven curiously,
The charm is broken utterly,
Draw near and fear not,—this is I,
       The Lady of Shalott.'