The Huguenot
When a painting moves us to tears, what does that ultimately say about us?
Hello, it’s been a hot second while I dealt with some personal things. But we’re back with a rather long post about one of my favorite paintings. Please do enjoy!
A Huguenot on St Bartholomew’s Day is a deceptively simple piece. It was painted in 1851 by John Everett Millais, a key player in the Pre-Raphaelite Brotherhood.
Millais is himself an interesting person I could write on. He was a child prodigy and at age eleven went on to become the youngest student to attend the Royal Academy. You may recognize his name for his most famous painting, Ophelia. Yes, that Ophelia. (Did you know the model, Elizabeth Siddall, was an artist as well?)
I was reminded of the Huguenot by Millais thanks to a Reel that started with “No Painting Has Ever Made Me Cry” only to of course ironically display the one exception.
If you’ve seen my notes, you know that I’ve openly confessed to getting emotional at the sight of art. I have a tendency to cry on the spot when I see original paintings. Even abstract work has moved me to tears. I’ve no shame about this, art is meant to move me. But at first glance, this piece was hardly worthy of a tear. That is until I learned the history.
We’ll start with the title: Huguenot and St. Bartholomew’s Day.
As I’m sure we’re all aware, European history is fraught with religious warfare. France was, of course, no different. When the French Catholics saw a rise in Protestant -known as Huguenots - political power, tension began to rise between both religious sects. A Huguenot politician by the name of Admiral Gaspard II de Coligny was gaining influence over King Charles IX. He was supportive of war with Spain, and given that King Charles was known to be easily swayed, it was becoming feasible that Admiral Coligny would have his way.
Admiral Coligny’s influence terrified the king’s mother, Catherine de’ Medici. Working with the Roman Catholic House of Guise, a plan was hatched to assassinate Coligny. As it happened, Catherine’s daughter, Margaret of France, was going to be marrying another Huguenot, Henry of Navarre. It was a large wedding that featured, of course, more Huguenots. This was starting to grate on Catherine. All these damn Huguenots! Whatever was she to do?
The attempt was made on Admiral Coligny’s life, but it failed. And now the Huguenots were angry. To keep the peace, the French government agreed to investigate and figure out who was trying to silence Admiral Coligny. As you can imagine, this only made Catherine more anxious to be done with them.
Secretly, Catherine de ‘Medici met with a group of Catholic nobles at the Tuileries Palace. The Huguenot problem was getting out of hand, and they needed to get Charles to agree to help them exterminate the “pests.” Their solution? Mass murder.
We’re going to go back to the painting for a second. Now that we have some of the history, we can better understand what Millais intended with this work.
This painting, as stated, is part of the Pre-Raphaelite Brotherhood. What exactly does that mean? This was a movement of art funded by John Millais in London in 1848. His fellow artists who helped to form the movement were Dante Gabriel Rossetti and William Holman Hunt. Over time, they would add more members, forming a sort of Secret Art Club of their own.
The Pre-Raphaelite Brotherhood lived by a set of doctrines:
They had to have genuine ideas to express.
They had to study nature, and thereby know nature, which allows one to properly depict nature.
They looked to art of the past to see the value in it, with a focus on what is heartfelt in said art.
Make damn good art.
I am rewording this a bit, but you get the idea. The Pre-Raphaelites largely favored the medieval era, even going so far as to believe it possessed a creative integrity that had been lost in recent centuries. The results are, frankly, gorgeous.
The Pre-Raphaelites were also obsessed with bright colors and nature. This, outside of their almost fantastical paintings (again, see Ophelia), has given their work a brush of magic that makes them beloved even today.
In their obsession with color and nature, a direct contrast to what was popular in English art at the time, the Pre-Raphaelites rejected art society’s norms in favor of their aesthetics. Their work was overly detailed, rather than selectively using details in areas to attract the eye to specific parts. And they always put the most detail in nature. Because of this, they were criticized for their rejection of what was seen as conventional methods of composition. (A surprisingly big critic was none other than Charles Dickens!)
The Huguenot is a tall painting with an arched top. The figures are at the center, draped in dark colors. Because of the length of the painting, we are forced to look at the full figures and take them in completely, giving us the chance to focus on the people rather than the setting. Their clothes appear drab, but upon closer inspection, one can see the woman’s dress has delicate floral designs. Yet, she is dressed in a sort of black velvet, as if in mourning. The man, in contrast, while in dark clothes, is wearing purple.
Purple is an incredible color to paint with. It blends beautifully with pinks and blues for obvious reasons, but that allows for a stunning contrast. Millais employs this knowledge, using reds and blues in the blending of the purple topcoat to add contrast. This also brings our eyes up to the figures. The other color deployed in their clothing is the same reddish-brown as the background, rooting them in their world as well as to each other. They are part of this world, totally and completely.
The background deploys heavy detail on the foliage and brick. The flowers are likely not random, according to the language of flowers the Canterbury Bells stand for faith and constancy. The flowers match their clothing, and there is even weathering on the red brick. It’s an odd choice to have a background brighter than the figures, especially when deploying red and green, which are complementary colors and by default, eye-catching. Yet, if we look at their faces, where our eyes are naturally drawn, we see heavy uses of red and lighting to draw us in.
Now notice the lighting. The woman’s face is light, showing little contrast. Despite this, she is heartbroken. We see the tiniest impression of tears in her eyes. There is terror in her eyes. His hand cups her head. You could almost imagine this painting inspired Klimt’s The Kiss. The tilt of her eyebrows is so slight, yet we cannot ignore it.
By contrast, the man’s face is darker. At first this appears normal as he’s looking down at her. He’s painted with romantic features, and though his face is dark, there is a calmness to him. We see a man in love, and a man comforting his lover. The darker shading of his face does not take away from the message of love we get from this painting. It is only when we understand the meaning of the painting that we realize the darkness on his face is more than just simple shading.
Their faces lead us to believe this is a romance, their hands tell us this is a tragedy.
As they embrace, the woman is tying a white handkerchief around his left arm. And as he embraces her back, seemingly to console her, we can see his right arm is pulling it off. No matter how much she tightens it, he will pull it off. It is this gesture that gives the painting its soul.
King Charles was persuaded by Mother Dearest and the other Catholic leaders that something needed to be done about the Huguenots. He feared rebellion from the Huguenots which would lead to him losing power. Under his approval, a plot was set to exterminate the Huguenot leaders in Paris. On August 23rd, the Paris municipality was given their orders.
A bell tolled over Paris, and the slaughtering of the Huguenots began. To differentiate between the Huguenots and Catholics, the Catholics wore a white armband. Over time, though the bell tolled to stop the massacre, mobs took over and continued the killing. It is believed around 3000 Huguenots were murdered, including women and children.
So we see in this painting a story unfolding: A Protestant Man and a Catholic Woman are in love, and to save her lover she ties a white band around his arm to protect him. But he rejects this, lovingly gazing into her eyes, knowing he will be killed.
I realized I made an error earlier. The full title of the painting is A Huguenot, on St. Bartholomew's Day, Refusing to Shield Himself from Danger by Wearing the Roman Catholic Badge.
Perhaps it is the romantic nature of the painting that makes it so compelling. Perhaps it is because we know the brutal death ahead of this handsome young man. Perhaps it’s the fact that we know he has an out, and instead, he chooses the harder path. Perhaps we are uncomfortable with how the painting asks of us, “Are we not all martyrs for that which we believe in?” Especially when we understand that belief is not limited to religion. Perhaps it is the glaring reality that human nature has not moved past St Bartholomew’s Day as we like to believe.
Whatever it may be, it’s impossible to look and not ache for this couple, not wish for a better fate for them, and not marvel at such a beautiful painting. This painting was exhibited alongside Ophelia, which by contrast was controversial in its time. It’s not surprising that Ophelia has stood the test of time and earned respect and admiration the world over, but one cannot help but wonder how such a beauty could slip by all these years without the same recognition.
When I look at this painting I’m haunted by one simple question: Would I pull off the armband as well?
Thank you for reading! I know this is long, but I suppose that’s to make up for lost time. I’ve missed talking about art, music, and all kinds of things. I hope 2024 brings us all much needed rest and incredible art.
Wonderful post. Thank you.
An age old question: Do we kneel before God and stand before men or do we kneel to men and deny God?
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