Changing Paintings: 55 The Wedding of Peleus and Thetis

After two humorous stories poking fun at King Midas, Ovid makes a start on the central theme for much of the remainder of his Metamorphoses, retelling the myths about Troy, and how its fall led to the foundation of Rome. This begins with the foundation and fall of the first city of Troy, leading into the birth of Achilles.

Once Apollo had won his musical contest against Pan, he made his way to Laomedon’s kingdom, where he found the king struggling to build the great walls of the first city of Troy. Apollo and Neptune agreed to lend a hand, but when the walls were complete, Laomedon denied striking any bargain to repay the gods for their labour.

Joachim von Sandrart (1606–1688) and Girolamo Troppa (1637–1710) (attr), Laomedon Refusing Payment to Poseidon and Apollo (date not known), oil on panel, 96.5 x 80.6, Hunterian Art Gallery, Glasgow, Scotland. Wikimedia Commons.

One of the few works showing the story of Laomedon is thought to have been painted by Joachim von Sandrart and Girolamo Troppa in the late seventeenth century. Its close-cropped figures show Laomedon Refusing Payment to Poseidon and Apollo. The youthful Apollo holds his hand out at the left, while behind him the much older Neptune leans forward next to his trident.

Neptune responded by flooding the city. In a scene reminiscent of Andromeda being offered for sacrifice to the sea-monster Cetis, Laomedon’s daughter Hesione was then chained to rocks to await her grizzly fate. When she was rescued by Hercules, Laomedon again welshed on his debt, so Hercules gave Hesione to Telamon.

Hans Thoma (1839–1924), Hercules Delivering Hesione (1890), oil, 100.2 x 72.5 cm, Musée d’Orsay, Paris. Image by Sailko, via Wikimedia Commons.

In Hans Thoma’s Hercules Delivering Hesione (1890) Hercules stands on the beach in front of the early city of Troy, his trademark club in his right hand. A naked Telamon is busy keeping the sea monster at bay by throwing boulders at it, while Hercules is bargaining with the fair Hesione.

Ovid’s story then switches to that of Telamon’s brother, Peleus, who married Thetis, one of the fifty Nereid daughters of the ancient sea god Nereus. She had been told by Proteus that her son’s deeds would be famous, and even Jupiter had left her to his grandson Peleus to marry. Thetis used to ride naked astride a dolphin to visit the remote sea cave where she slept. Peleus found her there, and tried to rape her. But she used her powers of transformation to escape his clutches, first turning into a bird, then a tree, next a tigress. Peleus pleaded with the sea gods for their help, and Proteus told him to bind her with ropes while she was still asleep. When he did that, she relented, and they were married.

According to other sources, their wedding was celebrated with a great feast on Mount Pelion, and attended by most of the gods. The happy couple were given many gifts by the gods, but one, Eris the goddess of discord, hadn’t been invited. As an act of spite at her exclusion, she threw a golden apple ‘of discord’ into the middle of the goddesses, to be given as a reward to ‘the fairest’. This set up the Judgement of Paris, and led to the Trojan War.

Cornelis van Haarlem (1562–1638), The Wedding of Peleus and Thetis (1593), oil on canvas, 246 x 419 cm, Frans Hals Museum, Haarlem, The Netherlands. Wikimedia Commons.

Cornelis van Haarlem’s The Wedding of Peleus and Thetis from 1593 segregates the deities into a separate feast in a sacred grove on the left. There is, as yet, no sign of discord among them, nor of any golden apple. Some of the gods are still among the other guests in the foreground, including Pan (near his pipes, at the left) and Mercury, with his winged hat and caduceus at the right. They seem to be having a good time.

Joachim Wtewael (1566–1638), The Wedding of Peleus and Thetis (date not known), oil on copper, 36.5 x 42 cm, The Clark Art Institute, Williamstown, MA. Wikimedia Commons.

Joachim Wtewael’s undated painting of The Wedding of Peleus and Thetis is great fun, with its aerial band, and numerous glimpses of deities behaving badly. I think that I can also spot Eris, about to sow her apple of discord into their midst: she is in mid-air to the left of centre, the apple held out in her right hand.

Hendrick van Balen (1573–1632) and Jan Brueghel the Elder (1568–1625), The Wedding of Thetis and Peleus (c 1630), oil, dimensions not known, Musée du Louvre, Paris. Image by Pascal3012, via Wikimedia Commons.

Hendrick van Balen and Jan Brueghel the Elder combined their skills to paint The Wedding of Thetis and Peleus together in about 1630. Here it’s the innumerable putti who seem to be running riot, and there’s no sign of Eris or her golden apple.

Edward Burne-Jones (1833–1898), The Feast of Peleus (1872-81), oil on canvas, 36.9 x 109.9 cm, Birmingham Museum and Art Gallery, Birmingham, England. Wikimedia Commons.

It’s the most modern version, painted by Edward Burne-Jones as The Feast of Peleus in 1872-81, that sticks most closely to the story. In a composition based on classical representations of the Last Supper, he brings Eris in at the far right, her golden apple still concealed. Every head has turned towards her, apart from that of the centaur behind her right wing. Even the three Fates, in the left foreground, have paused momentarily in their work.

The most famous painting of this event doesn’t show the wedding at all, only the introduction of the golden apple to the feast of the gods.

Jacob Jordaens (1593–1678), The Golden Apple of Discord (1633), oil on canvas, 181 × 288 cm, Museo Nacional del Prado, Madrid, Spain. Wikimedia Commons.

This is Jacob Jordaens’ Golden Apple of Discord from 1633, based on a brilliant oil sketch by Rubens. The facially discordant Eris, seen in midair behind the deities, has just made her gift of the golden apple, now at the centre of the grasping hands above the table. At the left, Minerva (Pallas Athene) reaches forward for it. In front of her, Venus, her son Cupid at her knee, points to herself as the goddess most deserving of the apple. On the other side of the table, Juno reaches her hand out for it too, leading on to the Judgement of Paris.