Woolner, who did not paint either, but sculpted sometimes, when he was not in Australia searching for gold with his feet in the icy water and his head in the sun; Stephens, who ended up confining himself entirely to literature; and Collinson, who after having tried in vain to paint Elisabeth of Hungary, converted to Catholicism and entered a seminary, where he was assigned the task of polishing boots to teach him humility. Later, the absent and hopeless members were replaced by three newcomers: Deverell, Hughes and Collins, but these were only helpers. They escorted the trio of founders, gathering and rousing the crowd around them, writing articles, attracting attention and ensuring that the group was noticed. It was Rossetti, Hunt and Millais who had challenged official art. It was they who had to wage the battle and, given their limited resources, either emerge victorious or disappear.[11]
Dante Gabriel Rossetti, Venus Verticordia, 1864–1868.
Oil on canvas, 98 × 70 cm.
Russel-Cotes Art Gallery and Museum, Bournemouth.
Edward Burne-Jones, William Morris and John Henry Dearle (design) and Morris & Co. (production), Holy Grail Tapestry – Quest for the Holy Grail Tapestries – The Arming and Departure of the Knights, 1895–1896.
High warp tapestry, wool and silk weft on cotton warp, 244 × 360 cm.
Birmingham Museums & Art Gallery, Birmingham.
Edward Burne-Jones, The Golden Stairs, 1880.
Oil on canvas, 269.2 × 116.8 cm.
Tate Britain, London.
The battlefield that they chose was the illustration of Keats’ famous poem Isabella; or, the Pot of Basil. This mournful story based on Boccaccio is well known: “Fair Isabel, poor simple Isabel” was the sister of two rich Florentine merchants. In their house, under their command, was the young Lorenzo, who – like all heroes – was quite handsome. The young man and the young woman “could not in the self-same mansion dwell, without some stir of heart, some malady. They could not sit at meals but feel how well it soothed each to be the other by. They could not, sure, beneath the same roof sleep, but to each other dream, and nightly weep.” Isabel’s brothers quickly noticed the drama that was unfolding before their eyes. As they wished to marry their sister to some great lord, and as they lived in that period well loved by poets when one did not back away from even the most dreadful undertakings, they resolved to murder Lorenzo. One fine morning, they asked him to go hunting near the Apennines, “ere the hot sun count his dewy rosary on the eglantine.” They hurried off, passed the Arno, and in a neighbouring forest, killed Lorenzo and buried him deep in the earth.
Upon their return, they explained that the young man had set sail quickly for a foreign country because of some pressing need. Isabel asked them if he would return soon, but got no reply, and they deceived her every day with new stories. Finally, she had a dream that revealed the truth to her. In it appeared Lorenzo, who said to her: “Isabel, my sweet! Red whortleberries droop above my head, and a large flint-stone weighs upon my feet; Around me beeches and high chestnuts shed their leaves and prickly nuts.” When morning came, she ran to the forest with her old nurse. Her eyes fell upon the knife that had been used in the murder. The two women dug and dug, and found the corpse. Then, the distraught lover, wanting to keep something of the dead man at any price, cut off his head and carried it back home with her. There she embalmed it and hid it in a flowerpot, under a basil plant that was kept green by her endless tears. From then on, she neglected everything and cared only for her beloved basil. Day and night, she cried over the plant, which grew and flowered wondrously. This astonished her brothers, who looked to see what was under the basil, and though “the thing was vile with green and livid spot,” they recognised Lorenzo’s head. Appalled, they fled their homeland, carrying away what remained of their victim. But as soon as she no longer had her beloved plant, Isabel fell ill and wasted away. And finally she died, mournfully asking everyone else who approached her and pilgrims returning from faraway lands, what had become of her basil-pot.
Edward Burne-Jones, The Challenge in the Desert, 1894–1898.
Oil on canvas, 129.5 × 96.5 cm.
Collection Lord Lloyd-Webber.
Eleanor Fortescue-Brickdale, The Wise Virgins, 1901.
Two watercolours on one canvas, upper panel: 37 × 30 cm; lower panel: 11 × 30 cm.
Christopher Wood Gallery, London.
This was the drama from which each of the Pre-Raphaelites was expected to depict a scene, rigorously applying the theories of their new school: no imitation of the masters, no generalisation, each figure reproduced from a model and from one single model, outlines as original and individual as possible, painting on an unprepared white canvas, and fastidious attention to detail. In a word, earnestness. But, while Rossetti continued talking away and Hunt prepared by meticulously studying every detail of his subject, Millais had already constructed, sketched out, and finished his painting. For the Exhibition of 1849, in which all three of them participated together, only Millais produced a work inspired by Keats.[12]
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