The Lady of Shalott by Lord Tennyson, and the Pre-Raphaelites.

Tennyson

The Lady of Shalott is one of my favourite poems, and I thought revisiting it would be a good way of starting the Victorian Celebration as Alfred Tennyson was the Poet Laureate for much of Queen Victoria's reign, appointed in 1850 following William Wordsworth's death, until 1892 (Wordsworth was actually the first Poet Laureate appointed by Queen Victoria in 1843, and followed Robert Southey on the refusal of Sir Walter Scott. For those who are interested, Alfred Austin followed on the refusal of William Morris, and was the last Poet Laureate under Victoria's reign). 

There are two versions of The Lady of Shalott, one was written in 1833, and the one I've just read was written in 1842. My introduction to it was via the pre-Raphaelites, a group of artists who I have loved all my life, ever since I was a little girl (my mother and I would spend many hours looking through her books on the pre-Raphs, so they have a great deal of sentimental meaning as well). The Brotherhood (you might notice, if you look carefully, in some of their paintings the at-the-time cryptic "PRB" written somewhere - PRB means "The Pre-Raphaelite Brotherhood) was founded in 1848 by William Holman Hunt, John Everett Millais, and Dante Gabriel Rosetti (Gabriel Charles Dante Rosetti, brother of poet Christina Rosetti, put "Dante" in his name first in honour of Dante Alighieri, author of Inferno, Purgatorio, and Paradiso). Their purpose was to return to the style of painting before Raphael (hence "pre-Raphaelite") and produced vivid, intensely coloured, sharp, and very detailed images that Big C jokingly called "Medieval HD", which is very accurate for a lot of their work! The Brotherhood went on to influence other artists: Arthur Hughes, Ford Madox Brown, Frederic Sandys and John William Waterhouse. Waterhouse is my favourite artist, and he was inspired to produce several paintings of The Lady of Shalott.

Lady of Shalott, Holman Hunt

The Lady of Shalott was inspired by the story of Elaine of Astolat, who dies from a broken heart: the unrequited love of Sir Lancelot (Tennyson also wrote about her in Idylls of the King). She is cursed: she must not look directly out of her window, only through a mirror can she see reality, or the outside world, and all day she sits at her loom weaving until one day she catches sight of Sir Lancelot. She looks out, runs from her tower and goes by boat to Camelot, however she dies before she arrives.

The first four stanzas of the poem begin by describing the island of Shalott, where she is barely known - "'Tis the fairy / Lady of Shalott" whispers the farmers.

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;
And up and down the people go,
Gazing where the lilies blow
Round an island there below,
The island of Shalott.

Willows whiten, aspens quiver,
Little breezes dusk and shiver
Thro' the wave that runs for 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.

By the margin, willow-veil'd
Slide the heavy barges trail'd
By slow horses; and unhail'd
The shallop flitteth silken-sail'd
Skimming down to Camelot:
But who hath seen her wave her hand?
Or at the casement seen her stand?
Or is she known in all the land,
The Lady of Shalott?

Only reapers, reaping early
In among the bearded barley,
Hear a song that echoes cheerly
From the river winding clearly,
 Down to tower'd Camelot:
And by the moon the reaper weary,
Piling sheaves in uplands airy, Listening, whispers "'Tis the fairy
Lady of Shalott.

Waterhouse, 1915.

 The second part of the poem goes on to describe her and the unknown curse:

There she weaves by night and day,
A magic web with colours gay.
Sge has heard a whisper say,
A curse is on her if she stay
To look down to Camelot.
She knows not what the curse may be,
And so she weaveth steadily,
And little other care hath she,
The Lady of Shalott.

She weaves the things she sees through her mirror, the "shadows" - "'I am half sick of shadows,' said / The Lady of Shalott" (the subject of Waterhouse's third painting of her, in 1915). She sees women, the abbot, a "crimson clad" page, a shepherd, and knights - everyone living in the real world whilst she lives in this dream-like state. "She hath no loyal knight and true, / The Lady of Shalott".

Waterhouse, 1894.

In the third part, "bold Sir Lancelot" appears (this part painted by Waterhouse in 1894: "The Lady of Shalott Looking at Lancelot"):

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 to Camelot.
As often thro' the purple night,
Below the starry clusters bright,
Some bearded meteor, trailing light,
Moves over still 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 to Camelot.
From the bank and from the river
He flash'd into the crystal mirror,
"Tirra lirra," by the river
Sang Sir Lancelot.

She looks. The Lady of Shalott looks directly out of the window at him, and it almost reminds me of Lot's wife looking back, unable to help herself, and being cursed so unfairly for doing something so natural (Genesis 19: 16). This is my favourite part of the poem, the desperation, the shock, the panic: all are there in this relentless rhythm:

She left the web, she left the loom,
She made three paces thro' the room,
She saw the water-lily 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 upon me,' cried
The Lady of Shalott.

(One of the few bits of poetry I know by heart).

Waterhouse, 1888.

And then, the final part: she leaves her tower and goes down to the river, gets a boat, writes her name on it, and floats down to Camelot singing as she goes (reminiscent of Ophelia, another subject of Waterhouse's paintings). By the time she reaches the palace, she is dead, and she is found by the knights including Sir Lancelot:

Who is this? and what is here?
And in the lighted palace near
Died the sound of royal cheer;
And they cross'd themselves for fear,
All the knights of Camelot:
But Lancelot mused a little space;
He said, 'She has a lovely face;
God in his mercy lend her grace,
The Lady of Shalott.'

William Maw Egley, 1858.

This poem inspired a great many. I have already included a painting by Holman Hunt at the top, and it is referred to in many novels: The Prime of Miss Jean Broodie, by Muriel Spark, The Mirror Crack'd From Side to Side by Agatha Christie, and The Picture of Dorian Gray by Oscar Wilde are just three examples. And, of course, Waterhouse: the 1888 painting at the bottom is perhaps the best known of the three.

So, in short: do have a read of it, let me know what you think!