Reading Visual Art: 185 Poison A

In this week’s two articles about reading paintings, I tackle one of the greatest challenges in narrative art: how to depict the purpose or intent of an inanimate object, specifically here a poisonous liquid? In this series of examples drawn from paintings largely of classical myth and history, I’ll show the image of each before explaining its story.

Antoine-Placide Gibert (1806-1875), Theseus Recognised by his Father (1832), oil, dimensions not known, Musée des Beaux-Arts, Bordeaux, France. Image by VladoubidoOo, via Wikimedia Commons.

The Greek hero Theseus was the estranged son of King Aegeus of Athens. As a young man, his mother dispatched him in search of his father. When Theseus arrived in his father’s court, the king didn’t recognise him. The sorceress Medea tried to keep the king to herself, so prepared a poisonous drink of aconite for the king to unwittingly give to Theseus. At the last minute, just as his son is about to drink the aconite, Aegeus recognises that the sword borne by Theseus is his, knocks the cup away, and saves his son’s life.

In 1832, the theme chosen for the prestigious Prix de Rome contest was the moment that Aegeus recognised Theseus, immediately before the latter could swallow any of Medea’s poison. Two of the contenders for that great prize remain accessible today.

In Antoine-Placide Gibert’s Theseus Recognised by his Father (1832) above, the three main actors are arranged almost linearly across the canvas. Just left of centre, Theseus stands, his head in profile, with the fateful cup in his left hand, and his father’s sword in his right. The king is just right of centre, looking Theseus in the eye, and appearing animated if not alarmed. At the far right is Medea, her face like thunder, sensing her plot to kill Theseus is about to fall apart.

Hippolyte Flandrin (1809–1864), Theseus Recognized by his Father (1832), oil on canvas, 114.9 × 146.1 cm, École nationale supérieure des Beaux-Arts, Paris. Wikimedia Commons.

It was Hippolyte Flandrin’s Theseus Recognized by his Father (1832) that won the Prix de Rome, with its more neoclassical look influenced by Jacques-Louis David. Flandrin establishes the scene as Athens with a view of the Acropolis in the background. His timing is different from Gibert: this painting shows the moment immediately after Aegeus has recognised his son, and the cup of aconite lies spilt on the table. Theseus stands in the middle of the canvas conspicuously naked, his father’s sword held rather limply in his right hand. Aegeus stands to the left of centre, talking to his son quite emotionally. But of all the characters shown in this painting, it is Medea who is the most fascinating. Stood at the far left, she appears to be on her way out.

Without knowing the full story, you’d be fortunate to guess from either of those paintings that it revolved around a cup of poison.

John William Waterhouse (1849–1917), Jason and Medea (1907), oil on canvas, 131.4 x 105.4 cm, Private collection. Wikimedia Commons.

Jason, another classical hero, had challenged Pelias for his throne, and was given the quest for Poseidon’s Golden Fleece to win it. This took him and his Argonauts to Colchis, where they discovered the owner of the fleece was King Aeëtes, who set Jason three tasks to achieve before he could take possession of the fleece. To ensure his success, Jason enlisted the help of the king’s daughter Medea, already a proficient sorceress, and the inevitable happened when she fell in love with Jason, thanks to the divine intervention of Hera (Juno) through Aphrodite (Venus). In return for her assistance, Jason promised to marry Medea.

John William Waterhouse’s painting of Jason and Medea (1907) shows her preparing the potion given later by Jason to the dragon guarding the Golden Fleece. Medea wears a dress suggesting in its bold icons her role as a sorceress. In front of her, a flame heats ingredients for the potion, which she is adding to a chalice. Jason appears anxious, and is dressed and armed ready to go and fight the dragon.

Elihu Vedder (1836–1923), The Etruscan Sorceress (1886), oil on canvas, 34 x 17.1 cm, Private collection. The Athenaeum.

Although identified as being The Etruscan Sorceress (1886), Elihu Vedder’s painting has all the symbolic associations of Medea. She’s holding a vial which Jason used to capture the fleece, and at her feet is an open fire which is associated with preparation of the potion for the vial.

Frederick Sandys (1829–1904), Medea (1866-68), oil on wood panel with gilded background, 61.2 x 45.6 cm, Birmingham Museum and Art Gallery, Birmingham England. Wikimedia Commons.

Frederick Sandys shows Medea (1866-68) at work, preparing the magic potion for Jason’s mission. In front of her is a toad, and other ingredients. Behind her, in a gilt frieze, is Jason’s ship the Argo.

The presence of Medea in her role as sorceress and the liquid’s preparation are valuable clues here.

Jacques-Louis David (1748–1825), The Death of Socrates (1787), oil on canvas, 129.5 x 196.2 cm, Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York, NY. Wikimedia Commons.

Socrates (470/469-399 BCE) was a major Greek philosopher known still for the Socratic Method, although none of his writings have survived. At the time when Athens was trying to recover from its defeat in the Peloponnesian War, Socrates was openly critical of Athenian politics and society, and made prominent Athenians appear foolish. He was tried, ostensibly for corrupting the minds of the young and for being impious, found guilty, and sentenced to death by drinking the poison hemlock.

Plato’s Phaedo describes Socrates’ execution. Although several encouraged him to escape, he refused. After drinking the hemlock from a bowl, he was told to walk around until his legs became numb. He then lay down, and the numbness slowly ascended until it reached his heart, and caused his death.

Jacques-Louis David shows Socrates half-sitting on a bed, his right hand over the bowl of hemlock, his left gesticulating with his index finger pointing upwards. His face is expressionless. By the head of the bed, five friends are distraught at what is happening, although only one shows grief on his face. Another friend (Crito) sits by Socrates, his right hand resting on Socrates’ left thigh.

The bowl of hemlock is held out by a young man, who is turned away, averting and shielding his eyes from the bowl. At the foot of the bed, an old man (Plato, who told the story) is sat, asleep, but behind him, under an arch, another of Socrates’ friends (Apollodorus) is pressing his face to the wall in his anguish. In the far distance, a small group of patricians are seen walking away, upstairs, the lowermost holding his right hand up as if to bid Socrates farewell.

Charles Brocas (1774–1835), The Death of Phocion (1804), oil on canvas, further details not known. Wikimedia Commons.

Phocion was an incorruptible statesman in a Greece that had become all too corrupt. When he was wrongfully accused of treachery, he and his colleagues were sentenced to death by the mob. They were taken to prison, where they had to drink poisonous hemlock. There was sufficient to kill the colleagues, but not enough remained for Phocion, who had to arrange for a friend to pay for more hemlock so that he too could be executed.

In 1804, The Death of Phocion was the subject for the prestigious Prix de Rome competition. Charles Brocas’ unsuccessful entry shown above gives Plutarch’s account clearly. At the right, Phocion’s friends are dying as they drink their goblets of hemlock. In the centre, Phocion is arranging for the payment of the executioner so that he too can be killed. Behind Phocion stands another man, pointing to the empty bowl into which the hemlock plant was to be put to make the infusion.

Joseph Denis Odevaere (1775–1830), The Death of Phocion (1804), oil on canvas, dimensions not known, École nationale supérieure des beaux-arts, Paris. Image by VladoubidoOo, via Wikimedia Commons.

Joseph Denis Odevaere’s winning painting shows Phocion standing in the middle, comforting his friends as they die. At the right, the executioner is being paid for the additional supply of hemlock. As with the previous paintings, the goblets and bowls containing the poison aren’t prominent, and you have to know what you’re looking for to see all the clues to the story.