The Baleful Head by Edward Burne-Jones

We end our weeklong odyssey with Edward Burne-Jones’ conception of Perseus with The Baleful Head.  In this picture, Perseus shows Andromeda the head of the Gorgon Medusa.  Because gazing directly into the Gorgon’s face will turn a mortal into stone, they look upon its reflection in a pool of water.

This is, in many ways, the most remarkable picture in the series.  The head of Medusa, one of the most hideous monsters of ancient mythology, here looks serene and harmless.  Her lifeless head is indeed at peace, and one could argue that the monster is as beautiful as the heroine, Andromeda.  Ugliness was not consistent with the way Burne-Jones saw the world, and it was impossible for him to render even the most monstrous creatures as less-than-beautiful.  (You will remember that the Kraken in The Doom Fulfilled looked more bejeweled and silkily ornate than horrific.)

Burne-Jones returns to the detailed and rich background missing in The Finding of Medusa, though we are still nowhere near a natural landscape.  The apple-rich bower here is purposefully illustrative rather than natural, setting the scene in an unreal space so essential to myth-making.  The earth upon which Perseus and Andromeda stand looks almost alive with a sense of movement – as if, along with the lifeless head – everything around them is galvanized with a life of its own.

The remarkable armor of Perseus is depicted in loving detail, and the clothes draping Andromeda loop around her left arm are created with quiet expertise.  The pool, seemingly constructed of both wood and marble, is skillfully done, though the very top (rendered in such a way that the water is visible to the viewer) seems, to my eye, slightly out of proportion.

I think the most remarkable thing about the picture is how Burne-Jones creates a wordless dialog between the three figures.  Perseus and Andromeda reach across the pool to hold one-another: this is love, yes, but Perseus is also supporting Andromeda during what may be a shock to her senses.  And follow the gaze of Perseus – he is not looking at the Gorgon’s reflection, but at the profile of his beloved Andromeda, instead.

And Andromeda – look at her gaze.  Is she looking at the reflection of Medusa, or the handsome face of Perseus reflected in the water?   And Medusa’s head is the top of the triangle – the focal point of all three characters even though she herself is not looking at anyone.

Returning to his inspiration, here is the passage in Morris that so inspired this picture: 

May I not see this marvel of the lands

So mirrored, and yet live? Make no delay,

The sea is pouring fast into the bay,

And we must soon be gone."

                            "Look down", he said,

"And take good heed thou turnest not thine head."

Then gazing down with shuddering dread and awe,

Over her imaged shoulder, soon she saw

The head rise up, so beautiful and dread,

That, white and ghastly, yet seemed scarcely dead

Beside the image of her own fair face,

As, daring not to move from off the place,

But trembling sore, she cried: "Enough, O love!

What man shall doubt thou art the son of Jove;

I think thou wilt not die." Then with her hand

She hid her eyes, and trembling did she stand

Until she felt his lips upon her cheek;

Then turning round, with anxious eyes and meek,

She gazed upon him, and some doubtful thought.

The Finding of Medusa

Today, we look at Perseus finding the Gorgon Medusa, part of a series of paintings by Edward Burne-Jones (1833-1898) inspired by William Morris (1834-1896) and his book The Earthly Paradise (1896).

The Gorgon Sisters are among the most repulsive creatures in ancient mythology.  The Gorgons – Medusa, Stheno and Euryale – were the result of an incestuous relationship between the monstrous deities Phorcys and Ceto.  Medusa, with her head of writing snakes rather than hair, could turn men to stone with a glance.

There are many versions of the story of Perseus killing Medusa.  In general, Perseus used his shield, a gift from the goddess Athena, to look at the reflection of Medusa, rather than at the monster herself.  Using this trick, he was able to decapitate her with a sword from Hephaestus.

Surprisingly, the potency of Medusa really begins once she is decapitated, as her disembodied head take on a narrative life of its own.  Perseus uses the severed head as a weapon, and even kills the Kraken with it in some versions of the tale.  Perseus would eventually give the head to Athena, who placed it on her shield, the Aegis.

Despite the gruesome aspects of the myth, Burne-Jones seems incapable of painting anything that is not beautiful.  In The Finding of Medusa (1882), Medusa here is tall and svelte, with a strong but attractive face.  He does not depict a head full of snakes – perhaps too gruesome an image for his art to express – but her windblown hair does have a serpentine suggestion.  The other sisters, who should be equally baleful, are quite beautiful in their way.  The Gorgons here are also equipped with wings, and look more like fallen angels than pagan monsters. 

As with other pictures we’ve looked at in the series, the background is an unreal dreamscape; however, unlike The Rock of Doom and The Doom Fulfilled, the background here is suggested with a few broad brushstrokes, rather than depicted with any significant detail.  The craggy mountain range and color-splashed melodramatic sky make it more of an emotional landscape than anything recognizably earthy.  Even the armor of Perseus, so lovingly depicted in other paintings, seems here rather rushed.

Much more interesting to me is the surviving watercolor study Burne-Jones did before creating the actual painting (see below).  Like many great masters, Burne-Jones conceived of his figures first as nudes, and draped them with clothing later on.  Here, we see Medusa’s movements beneath her pendulous robes and have a better understanding of the pivot of her body.  Also – the expression on Medusa’s face is much more effective than that on the finished picture. 

In the final painting, Medusa is a beautiful, if evil, woman now afraid.  The Medusa of the study seems to be more frozen – more (if you will) stone-faced.  This seems in keeping with the magical powers of the Gorgon: and despite that ‘frozen’ quality, this visage is much more expressive.  This is evil in full realization of its own, upcoming doom.    

More Perseus tomorrow, but for now, here is the passage in Morris that so inspired Burne-Jones: 

And midst this wretchedness a mighty hall,

Whose great stones made a black and shining wall;

The doors were open, and thence came a cry

Of one in anguish wailing bitterly;

Then o'er its threshold passed the son of Jove,

Well shielded by the grey-eyed Maiden's love.

       Now there he saw two women bent and old,

Like to those three that north he did behold;

There were they, sitting well-nigh motionless,

Their eyes grown stony with their long distress,

Staring at nought, and still no sound they made,

And on their knees their wrinkled hands were laid.

       But a third woman paced about the hall,

And ever turned her head from wall to wall

And moaned aloud, and shrieked in her despair;

Because the golden tresses of her hair

Were moved by writhing snakes from side to side,

That in their writhing oftentimes would glide

On to her breast, or shuddering shoulders white;

Or, falling down, the hideous things would light

Upon her feet, and crawling thence would twine

Their slimy folds about her ankles fine.

But in a thin red garment was she clad,

And round her waist a jewelled band she had,

The gift of Neptune on the fatal day

When fate her happiness first put away.

       So there awhile unseen did Perseus stand,

With softening heart, and doubtful trembling hand

Laid on his sword-hilt, muttering: "Would that she

Had never turned her woeful face to me."

But therewith allas smote him with this thought,

"Does she desire to live, who has been brought

Into such utter woe and misery,

Wherefrom no god or man can set her free?