Ophelia – LizzieSiddal.com Exploring Elizabeth Siddal Ophelia Ophelia, painted by Sir John Everett Millais in 1851-2, is one of the most famous images of Elizabeth Siddal. Due to Millais’ beautiful and intricate image, she has become so associated with the character of Ophelia that perhaps we now treat her as if she is Ophelia. It is hard not to draw parallels: the golden Pre-Raphaelite Stunner falling prey to illness as she becomes Ophelia. Ophelia loses her father, Lizzie her stillborn child. Ophelia, overwhelmed with grief and madness, sings strange songs while those around her seem unsure of what to do. Lizzie rocks an empty cradle, urging others to be quiet so as not to wake the baby that is not there. Ophelia drowns, Lizzie overdoses. Finally, Hamlet leaps into Ophelia’s grave. Rossetti exhumes Lizzie’s grave. It’s all so deliciously Shakespearean. But, I’d like to set the subject of Lizzie aside and look at the painting itself.

I can think of no better source than The Life and Letters of Sir John Everett Millais, published in 1899 by his son: The text below is transcribed from Volume I of The Life and Letters of Sir John Everett Millais: Miss Siddal had a trying experience whilst acting as a model for “Ophelia”. In order that the artist might get the proper set of the garments in water and the right atmosphere and aqueous effects, she had to lie in a large bath filled with water, which was kept at an even temperature by lamps placed beneath. One day, just as the picture was nearly finished, the lamps went out unnoticed by the artist, who was so intensely absorbed in his work that he thought of nothing else, and the poor lady was kept floating in the cold water till she was quite benumbed. She herself never complained of this, but the result was that she contracted a severe cold, and her father (an auctioneer at Oxford) wrote to Millais, threatening him with an action for £50 damages for his carelessness. Eventually the matter was satisfactorily compromised. Millais paid the doctor’s bill; and Miss Siddal, quickly recovering, was none the worse for her cold bath. D.G.

Rossetti had already fallen in love with her, struck with her “unworldy simplicity and purity of aspect” –qualities which, as those who knew her bear witness, Millais succeeded in conveying to the canvas — but it was not until 1860 that they married. “Ophelia” in later years About the year 1873, “Ophelia” was exhibited at South Kensington; and Millais, going one day to have a look at it noticed at once that several of the colours he had used in 1851 had gone wrong — notably the vivid green in the water-weed and the colouring of the face of the figure. He therefore had the picture back in his studio, and in a short time made it bloom again, as we see it to-day, as great triumphs of his Pre-Raphaelite days. The colour, substance, and surface of his pictures have remained as perfect as the day they were put on.

Perhaps the greatest compliment ever paid to “Ophelia” as regards to its truthfulness to Nature , is the fact that a certain Professor of Botony, being unable to take his class into the country and lecture from the objects before him, took them to the Guildhall, where this work was being exhibited, and discoursed to them upon the flowers and plants before them, which were, he said, as instructive as Nature herself. Mr. Spielman is enthusiastic in his praise of the picture. He speaks of it as “one of the greatest of Millais’ conceptions, as well as one of the most marvellously and completely accurate and elaborate studies of Nature ever made by the hand of man….The robin whistles on the branch, while the distraught Ophelia sings her own death-dirge, just as she sinks beneath the water with eyes wide open, unconscious of the danger and all else.

It is one of the proofs of the greatness of this picture that, despite all elaboration, less worthy still superb of execution, the brilliancy of colour, diligence of microscopic research, and masterly handling, it is Ophelia’s face that holds the spectator, rivets his attention, and stirs emotion.” The picture passed successively through the hands of Mr. Farrer, Mr. B. Windus, and Mr. Fuller Maitland, before it came into the possession of Mr. Henry Tate, to whose generosity the public are indebted for its addition to the National Gallery of Art. It was exceedingly well engraved by Mr. I. Stevenson in 1866. In the 1852 Exhibition, when both the “Ophelia” and “The Huguenot” were exhibited, there was another beautiful “Ophelia” by Millais’ friend, Arthur Hughes, who is good enough to send me the following note about the two pictures: “One of the nicest things that I remember is connected with an “Ophelia” I painted, that was exhibited in the Academy at the same time as his [Millais’] own most beautiful and wonderful picture of that subject.

Mine met its fate high up in the little octagon room*; but on the morning of the varnishing, as I was going through the first room, before I knew where I was, Millais met me, saying, ‘Aren’t you he they call Cherry?’ (my name in the school). I said I was. Then he said he had just been up a ladder looking at my picture, there, but adding also very truly that I had not painted the right kind of stream. He had just passed out of the Schools when I began in them, and I had a most enormous admiration for him, and he always looked so beautiful — tall, slender, but strong, crowned with an ideal head, and (as Rossetti said) ‘with the face of an angel’. He could not have done a kinder thing, for he knew I should be disappointed at the place my picture had.” *Commonly known to artists as “The Condemned Cell” —– NOTE: The text above refers to Lizzie’s father as an auctioneer in Oxford.

There have been several different descriptions of Charles Siddall’s occupation, but I believe him to have been a cutler, as described in both Pre-Raphaelite Sisterhood by Jan Marsh and Lizzie Siddal: Tragedy of a Pre-Raphaelite Supermodel by Lucinda Hawksley. 10 Thoughts. Ophelia – LizzieSiddal.com Ophelia Ophelia, painted by Sir John Everett Millais in 1851-2, is one of the most famous images of Elizabeth Siddal. Due to Millais’ beautiful and intricate image, she has become so associated with the character of Ophelia that perhaps we now treat her as if she is Ophelia. It is hard not to draw parallels: the golden Pre-Raphaelite Stunner falling prey to illness as she becomes Ophelia. Ophelia loses her father, Lizzie her stillborn child. Ophelia, overwhelmed with grief and madness, sings strange songs while those around her seem unsure of what to do. Lizzie rocks an empty cradle, urging others to be quiet so as not to wake the baby that is not there. Ophelia drowns, Lizzie overdoses.

Finally, Hamlet leaps into Ophelia’s grave. Rossetti exhumes Lizzie’s grave. It’s all so deliciously Shakespearean. But, I’d like to set the subject of Lizzie aside and look at the painting itself. I can think of no better source than The Life and Letters of Sir John Everett Millais, published in 1899 by his son: The text below is transcribed from Volume I of The Life and Letters of Sir John Everett Millais: Miss Siddal had a trying experience whilst acting as a model for “Ophelia”. In order that the artist might get the proper set of the garments in water and the right atmosphere and aqueous effects, she had to lie in a large bath filled with water, which was kept at an even temperature by lamps placed beneath. One day, just as the picture was nearly finished, the lamps went out unnoticed by the artist, who was so intensely absorbed in his work that he thought of nothing else, and the poor lady was kept floating in the cold water till she was quite benumbed.

She herself never complained of this, but the result was that she contracted a severe cold, and her father (an auctioneer at Oxford) wrote to Millais, threatening him with an action for £50 damages for his carelessness. Eventually the matter was satisfactorily compromised. Millais paid the doctor’s bill; and Miss Siddal, quickly recovering, was none the worse for her cold bath. D.G. Rossetti had already fallen in love with her, struck with her “unworldy simplicity and purity of aspect” –qualities which, as those who knew her bear witness, Millais succeeded in conveying to the canvas — but it was not until 1860 that they married. “Ophelia” in later years About the year 1873, “Ophelia” was exhibited at South Kensington; and Millais, going one day to have a look at it noticed at once that several of the colours he had used in 1851 had gone wrong — notably the vivid green in the water-weed and the colouring of the face of the figure.

He therefore had the picture back in his studio, and in a short time made it bloom again, as we see it to-day, as great triumphs of his Pre-Raphaelite days. The colour, substance, and surface of his pictures have remained as perfect as the day they were put on. Perhaps the greatest compliment ever paid to “Ophelia” as regards to its truthfulness to Nature , is the fact that a certain Professor of Botony, being unable to take his class into the country and lecture from the objects before him, took them to the Guildhall, where this work was being exhibited, and discoursed to them upon the flowers and plants before them, which were, he said, as instructive as Nature herself. Mr. Spielman is enthusiastic in his praise of the picture. He speaks of it as “one of the greatest of Millais’ conceptions, as well as one of the most marvellously and completely accurate and elaborate studies of Nature ever made by the hand of man….The robin whistles on the branch, while the distraught Ophelia sings her own death-dirge, just as she sinks beneath the water with eyes wide open, unconscious of the danger and all else.

It is one of the proofs of the greatness of this picture that, despite all elaboration, less worthy still superb of execution, the brilliancy of colour, diligence of microscopic research, and masterly handling, it is Ophelia’s face that holds the spectator, rivets his attention, and stirs emotion.” The picture passed successively through the hands of Mr. Farrer, Mr. B. Windus, and Mr. Fuller Maitland, before it came into the possession of Mr. Henry Tate, to whose generosity the public are indebted for its addition to the National Gallery of Art. It was exceedingly well engraved by Mr. I. Stevenson in 1866. In the 1852 Exhibition, when both the “Ophelia” and “The Huguenot” were exhibited, there was another beautiful “Ophelia” by Millais’ friend, Arthur Hughes, who is good enough to send me the following note about the two pictures: “One of the nicest things that I remember is connected with an “Ophelia” I painted, that was exhibited in the Academy at the same time as his [Millais’] own most beautiful and wonderful picture of that subject.

Mine met its fate high up in the little octagon room*; but on the morning of the varnishing, as I was going through the first room, before I knew where I was, Millais met me, saying, ‘Aren’t you he they call Cherry?’ (my name in the school). I said I was. Then he said he had just been up a ladder looking at my picture, there, but adding also very truly that I had not painted the right kind of stream. He had just passed out of the Schools when I began in them, and I had a most enormous admiration for him, and he always looked so beautiful — tall, slender, but strong, crowned with an ideal head, and (as Rossetti said) ‘with the face of an angel’. He could not have done a kinder thing, for he knew I should be disappointed at the place my picture had.” *Commonly known to artists as “The Condemned Cell” —– NOTE: The text above refers to Lizzie’s father as an auctioneer in Oxford.

There have been several different descriptions of Charles Siddall’s occupation, but I believe him to have been a cutler, as described in both Pre-Raphaelite Sisterhood by Jan Marsh and Lizzie Siddal: Tragedy of a Pre-Raphaelite Supermodel by Lucinda Hawksley. In a highly original and unique project, artist Jo Wonder recreates Ophelia by Sir John Everett Millais using bacteria as a medium. The video is incredibly moving and includes voice mails and messages left for Ophelia. “I like the idea of Ophelia being a beauty but made up of something that we think is disgusting. But we shouldn’t really be thinking it’s disgusting because in fact, roughly nine out of 10 cells in our body are actually bacteria and our bodies are also made up of roughly 60% water, as Ophelia lies in the lake dying she may be feeling fantastic as her body rejoins the earth.” The section enclosed includes poems submitted by children, strangers and Kim Morrissey whose works often examine the role of women in nineteenth century culture.Bacillus Mycoides and other bacteria were used to depict Ophelia’s soul and breath in the animated painting.

Submit your own poetry/dedications to Ophelia by voice mail to complete this art installation. Please participate in this project by leaving a poem to Ophelia on her voice mail at +44 (0) 2071839366 (standard land line Uk rates in the UK). by Stephanie Graham Pina under Artwork featuring Elizabeth Siddal Here is a study of Lizzie as Ophelia, drawn by Millais. William Michael Rossetti described the painting of Ophelia as perhaps the best likeness of Lizzie. I’ve always loved the painting of Ophelia, not just because of Lizzie, but because of the painter’s meticulous attention to detail. The flowers, the ballooning of that heavy dress in the water…the entire painting is perfectly executed. I wonder how Lizzie herself felt about the painting, especially after her ordeal as she posed, floating in the water as the oil lamps went out one by one. The water gradually turns from comfortable to lukewarm to icy cold. Yet Lizzie behaved in a responsible manner, true to her profession as an artist’s model. She never said a word and remained in that cold water wearing an old, musty gown while Millais continued to work.

Bravo Lizzie. What do you think of Lizzie as Ophelia? It seems as if the tale of her posing for it added to her legend. She is so widely known for this painting and for her death and exhumation that other aspects of her life can be overshadowed. Lizzie Siddal: Victorian model's tragic story on stage - BBC News BBC News Lizzie Siddal: Victorian model's tragic story on stage By Tim Masters Entertainment correspondent, BBC News 12 November 2013 Close share panel Image caption Emma West as Lizzie Siddal In 1849, Lizzie Siddal was plucked from obscurity to pose for some of the best-known painters of the Victorian art world. Now her tragic life story is being brought to the stage for the first time. Elizabeth Siddal has been described by one biographer as a "Pre-Raphaelite supermodel" . The most well-known story about her time as a painter's subject is when she almost died while posing in a bathtub for Sir John Everett Millais as he painted his drowning Ophelia in 1852.

It was just one extraordinary incident in Siddal's short life - she died aged 32 - which features in a new play that premieres in London this month. Millais and the Pre-Raphaelites Born in 1829, John Everett Millais was a pioneering British painter A child prodigy, at 11 he was the youngest ever student to enter the prestigious Royal Academy Schools "We were genuinely surprised that no-one had done it [on stage] before, because it seems like such a gift of a story," says actress Emma West, who plays the lead role in Lizzie Siddal. The Siddal story was most recently told on TV in BBC Two's Desperate Romantics in 2009. At the rehearsal space in south London, where the new play is taking shape, all eyes are drawn to the full-size reproduction of the Millais painting propped against the wall - with Ophelia singing as she sinks to a watery grave. The scene, described in Shakespeare's Hamlet, is one of the best-known works of Pre-Raphaelite art and is the most popular postcard sold by the Tate, which has the original in its permanent collection.

"It's one of those paintings you can't tire of looking at - it is so vibrant and lifelike," says West. With her red hair and pale complexion, the actress looks uncannily like the tragic figure in the picture. Indeed, she recalls how on the two occasions she has visited the Tate to see the work, complete strangers have asked her to pose in front of it. Image caption Lizzie Siddal posed for Millais' Ophelia (1851-2) in a bath full of water in his studio "The last time it was a couple of Japanese tourists who were quite freaked out [by the resemblance], it seemed to me." So who was Lizzie Siddal? Born in 1829, she was aged around 20 and working in a hat shop when she was "discovered" by artist Walter Deverell. She soon became a favourite model for the Pre-Raphaelite Brotherhood - the group of young painters who wanted to revolutionise the Victorian art world. Over a period of several months, she posed for Millais' Ophelia in a bath full of water kept warm by lamps placed underneath.

The lamps went out on one occasion and the water turned ice cold, although Siddal did not complain. Millais was so absorbed in his work and did not notice. Siddal fell ill, and her father threatened the artist with legal action until he agreed to pay the medical fees. Siddal also became an artist in her own right, although painting was an unusual career for a woman in those days. She became the muse of the artist Dante Gabriel Rossetti, and appeared in many of his works. After a long and turbulent engagement, they married in 1860, but a year afterwards Siddal had a stillborn daughter. Suffering depression and addicted to laudanum, Siddal died in February 1862. "The more you read about her the more fascinating she becomes," says playwright Jeremy Green. "Here's a woman who, with no advantages, became famous as a model; but that wasn't sufficient, she wanted to produce art and, falling in love, she wanted to be fulfilled in her love - and in pursuit of both she met tragic consequences.

"It's a play about love and death and immortality." Image caption Emma West as Lizzie and Tom Bateman as Dante Gabriel Rossetti in rehearsals for Lizzie Siddal The idea for the play, directed by Lotte Wakeham, goes back two years when Green wrote a short film, Ophelia, about the Millais "bathtub" incident. Emma West, who played Siddal in the film too, got a taste of what the Victorian model went through in Millais' studio. "I had the experience of lying in the bath - the longest I did was five or six hours," she recalls. "That's a helpful thing to have done, despite the fact that my fingers were prune-like. The crew were scooping cold water out and pouring in hot water so I was fine." West adds: "It's tempting to think, 'How cruel of Millais', but actually there was nothing to stop Lizzie saying, 'It's getting a bit cold now'. But she didn't. "She chose to try and be the perfect model for him.

That's a fantastic clue to her psychology, because what made her attractive to these painters is that she did have a sense of understanding of what they were trying to achieve." As well as seeing the Ophelia painting at the Tate, West also visited Lizzie Siddal's grave in the Rossetti family plot in London's Highgate Cemetery. She was told by the cemetery guide that it is a place of pilgrimage for Lizzie Siddal devotees. "It's predominantly men, who get far more emotional than the women do!" What were her emotions standing at the grave? "I feel a sense of responsibility. When I knew we were going to tell her story I felt I should pay my respects in some way, just to say, 'We're taking this seriously and I hope we do you justice.'" West, meanwhile, describes Siddal as "a trailblazer". "She would dress differently and people would mock her sometimes and she didn't care. She was genuinely nourished by the art. "She was the genuine article." Lizzie Siddal is at the Arcola Theatre, London E8, from 20 November - 21 December 2013.

Lizzie Siddal, who posed for famous painters, including Millais and Rossetti before dying at 32, brought back to life in new play | Daily Mail Online Share this article Share Rossetti was one of the most famous of the Pre-Raphaelites and is cited as an inspiration for William Morris and Edward Burne-Jones among others. Among his works are The Roman Widow and Beata Beatrix, both of which starred Siddal, and Lady Lillith which depicts another of his harem of flame-haired muses and lovers, Fanny Cornforth. But it was Siddal who would prove his greatest love and the painter was left heartbroken by her death in 1862. 'The more you read about her the more fascinating she becomes,' playwright Jeremy Green revealed in an interview with the BBC .

Portrait of a supermodel: An 1854 self portrait (left) and Rossetti's 1860 work Regina Cordium (right) 'Here's a woman who, with no advantages, became famous as a model; but that wasn't sufficient, she wanted to produce art and, falling in love, she wanted to be fulfilled in her love - and in pursuit of both she met tragic consequences. 'It's a play about love and death and immortality.' Siddal's career began when she was spotted working in a London milliners shop by early Pre-Raphaelite artist, Walter Deverell. Through Deverell, Siddal, described as 'a most beautiful creature with an air between dignity and sweetness' by her future brother-in-law William Michael Rossetti, met the remaining Pre-Raphaelite artists, including Rossetti himself. Of all the paintings inspired by Siddal though, the most famous is Sir John Everett-Millais' 1852 work Ophelia, which shows the model as Shakespeare's doomed Danish princess floating in a river before her death from drowning.

To produce the painting, Siddal was required to lie in an icy-cold bath for hours on end, a requirement that led to a bout of pneumonia. Beauty: Siddal portrayed in Rossetti's 1863 Beata Beatrix (left) and in a rare period photograph (right) Resemblance: Emma West plays Siddal in the new play and experienced being submerged in a bath 'I had the experience of lying in the bath,' West told the BBC . 'The longest I did was five or six hours,. 'That's a helpful thing to have done, despite the fact that my fingers were prune-like. The crew were scooping cold water out and pouring in hot water so I was fine.' She adds: 'It's tempting to think, "How cruel of Millais", but actually there was nothing to stop Lizzie saying, 'It's getting a bit cold now'. But she didn't.

She chose to try and be the perfect model for him.' Although Ophelia is the most famous of the paintings featuring Siddal, by 1851, she was also sitting for Rossetti, whose paintings of her are thought to number in the thousands, and who continued to paint her even after her death. Siddal never entirely recovered from the ill-health caused by sitting for Ophelia, and despite years spent recuperating in Nice, remained frail. Later, she succumbed to depression, caused in part, by Rossetti's numerous affairs, and also developed an addiction to laudanum. When, in 1861, she suffered a stillbirth, the end was in sight. On the 11th February 1862, Rossetti came home to find her dying in her bed. Siddal, the first supermodel, had taken an overdose of the drug, although whether it was deliberate or not remains a mystery. She was just 32 years old.

Lizzie Siddal, starring Emma West and Tom Bateman, premieres on 20th November at London's Arcola Theatre Read more: Ophelia and the Pre-Raphaelites • Pre-Raphaelite Sisterhood Ars Longa Vita Brevis Ophelia and the Pre-Raphaelites Ophelia is a captivating character, one that inspired many of the Pre-Raphaelites and other Victorian artists. For those unfamiliar with Ophelia, she is Hamlet’s innocent young love interest in one of Shakespeare’s most popular plays ( Hamlet ). Hamlet loved Ophelia – but after his meeting with the ghost of his father (Act I) he feels compelled to set their love aside in order to focus on avenging his father’s murder. Poor Ophelia is unaware of Hamlet’s motives or his inner turmoil. He chooses not to express his sense of betrayal (and who can blame him for feeling betrayed when his uncle murdered his father and then married his mother, Queen Gertrude ). Ophelia is perplexed and hurt by Hamlet’s madness — and when Hamlet kills Ophelia’s father ( Polonius ) in an irrational fit, Ophelia is herself driven to insanity.

Picking flowers and singing songs, Ophelia accidentally drowns. Perhaps the most famous painting of Ophelia is by John Everett Millais , using Elizabeth Sidda l as a model. Siddal took great pains to pose as Ophelia: “Miss Siddal had a trying experience whilst acting as a model for Ophelia. In order that the artist might get the proper set of the garments in water and the right atmosphere and aqueous effects, she had to lie in a large bath filled with water, which was kept at an even temperature by lamps placed beneath. One day, just as the picture was nearly finished, the lamps went out unnoticed by the artist, who was so intensely absorbed in his work that he thought of nothing else, and the poor lady was kept floating in the cold water till she was quite benumbed. She herself never complained of this, but the result was that she contracted a severe cold, and her father wrote to Millais, threatening with an action of 50 lbs. for his carelessness. Eventually the matter was satisfactorily compromised.

Millais paid the doctor’s bill, and Miss Siddal, quickly recovering, was none the worse for her cold bath.” — The son of the artist, John Guille Millais , describing the incident. (For more on the painting by Millais, see the Ophelia page on my site LizzieSiddal.com . On this site, see Ophelia’s Flowers . Ophelia by Millais Dante Gabriel Rossetti chose to portray Ophelia in a different way, drawing inspiration from the passages I’ve transcribed below: Life and Work of Elizabeth Siddal The Life and Work of Elizabeth Siddal Head of Elizabeth Siddal, Dante Gabriel Rossetti, 1860 One face looks out from all his canvases, One selfsame figure sits or walks or leans: We found her hidden just behind those screens, That mirror gave back all her loveliness. A queen in opal or in ruby dress, A nameless girl in freshest summer-green, A saint, an angel --every canvas means The same one meaning, neither more nor less.

He feeds upon her face by day and night, And she with true kind eyes looks back on him, Fair as the moon and joyful as the light: Not wan with waiting, not with sorrow dim; Not as she is, but was when hope shone bright; Not as she is, but as she fills his dream. Photograph of Elizabeth Siddal Christina Rossetti wrote this poem about her brother, the artist and poet Dante Gabriel Rossetti , and his muse, Elizabeth Siddal. For years Siddal was known primarily as the woman who modeled for Rossetti and his fellow painters and was perhaps better known for her morbid postmorten experience than for anything she accomplished in life. Today, Siddal has become a sort of feminist icon, the subject of biographies, her work resurrected by galleries and websites. Elizabeth Eleanor Siddall was born in 1829; she later shortened her last name to "Siddal." A young woman of working-class background, she found employment as an assistant to a milliner. In 1849, a young artist named Walter Deverell happened to walk into the shop and asked her employer if her assistant would model for him.

Deverell was a student of Rossetti's. Rossetti, along with fellow artists John Everett Millais and William Holman Hunt, had formed what they termed the " Pre-Raphaelite Brotherhood " in 1848 as a reaction to the Royal Academys formulaic approach to painting and its emphasis on perfection typified by Raphael and the Renaissance masters. The PRBs goal was to bring art back to a more medieval sensibility, one that sought creativity and spirituality. They tended to stay away from landscapes and portraits and paint what they considered more worthy subjects, such as scenes from Shakes- peare, romantic poetry, medieval legends such as King Arthur, and the Bible. Ophelia, John Everett Millais, 1851-52 Siddal soon became a popular model for the PRB. She can be seen as Viola in Deverell's Twelfth Night, Sylvia in Hunt's Valentine Rescuing Sylvia from Proteus, and most most famously, Ophelia by Millais, where she posed for hours in bath water that had turned icy. She developed a serious cold afterward and apparently never completely recovered.

Close-up from The Tune of The Seven Towers, Dante Gabriel Rossetti, 1857 Ecce Ancilla Domini, Dante Gabriel Rossetti, 1849-50 Life seemed to take a propitious turn for Siddal. She and Rossetti became lovers, living together in Chatham Place. He drew her incessantly; she appears in his works Ecce Ancilla Domini, The Wedding of Prince George and Princess Sabra, How They Met Themselves, The Tune of the Seven Towers and Dantis Amor. Both he and John Ruskin , the influential poet, author, artist and art and social critic, encouraged her to paint and exhibit her works and write her own poetry. As the years passed, however, Siddal and Rossetti became less congenial toward each other. Rossetti was reluctant to propose marriage, supposedly in part because of Siddal's working class background. Siddal was also suffering from increasingingly poor health. She could apparently be needy, demanding, and somewhat irritating. "In an Artist's Studio" notwithstanding, Christina Rossetti disliked Siddal for the most part.

Prosperpine, Dante Gabriel Rossetti, 1874, modeled by Jane Burden Siddal's situation became more bleak with the passing years. As she approached 30, she was facing life as an unmarried, not quite respectable woman, and was now addicted to laudanum, a liquid form of opium used to dull physical pain and emotional distress. Meanwhile, Rossetti was having affairs with other models and had fallen in love with the PRB's latest "stunner," Jane Burden . However, in 1860 Rossetti did marry Siddal, in all likelihood out of sympathy for her plight rather than for love. Jane, who most likely returned Rossetti's affections, married his friend, the artist, writer and craftsman William Morris . Siddal reached her emotional abyss after giving birth to a stillborn daughter in 1861. Several months later Rossetti returned home one night to find her dead, either by an accidental overdose of laudanum or suicide. She was 32 years old. Beata Beatrix, Dante Gabriel Rossetti, 1863 Rossetti blamed himself for Siddal's death.

In his grief, he plunged a manuscript of poetry he was working on into her coffin. He then painted the Beata Beatrix as a memorial to her. By 1869, Rossetti had gone from a Romantic idealist to a balding, middle-aged man having an illicit affair with Jane Morris, the wife of his friend and colleague, his career a shadow of what it had been. His thoughts turned to the buried manuscript of poetry, and at the encouragement of various colleagues, he finally ordered the exhumation of Siddals coffin in order to retrieve it. Rossetti was not present when her coffin was exhumed in the dead of night. Rumor has it that she was perfectly preserved, her hair as red as ever; waist-long when she had died, it had continued growing till it nearly filled the coffin. Rossetti, however, writes about finding worm holes in the manuscript. The poems were published but did not do well commercially or critically, and Rossetti never got over the fact that hed had Siddal exhumed. Now addicted to laudanum himself, he attempted suicide by taking an overdose in 1872 but survived.

He died twenty years later, a wasted version of his former self. Siddals Art and Poetry Siddal's poetry is that of one suffering from melancholia, if not out and out clinical depression. Yet it more than effectively captures her angst, despair and alienation, as well as her anger and pride. Her art, while a bit short on technique, has an eerie, other-worldly quality. While she is not considered to be in the same league as the men of the PRB, one has to wonder what she could have achieved had she lived in a time when women could forge an identity beyond the traditional female role accorded to them by society and had the opportunity to study and be considered as artists in their own right, not just enchanting faces staring out of canvases. To feminists she represents a woman twice wronged, in life and in death, a woman forced to live in the shadow of her male peers, a girl who gives her love but sees that love returned only to her idealized self: "Not as she is, but as she fills his dream." Once she becomes a real person and her beauty fades, she is emotionally abandoned by her lover who chooses to seek out newer, younger, and possibly less demanding cohorts.

Or perhaps Siddal is not so much the victim but a woman who could not save herself from her own inner demons. At any rate, one cannot help but sympathize with someone whose life, once so full of promise, went so wrong. St. Agnes Eve Poems by Elizabeth Eleanor Siddal A Silent Wood O silent wood, I enter thee With a heart so full of misery For all the voices from the tree And the ferns that cling about my knees. In thy darkest shadow let me sit When the grey owls about thee flit; There will I ask of thee a boon, That I may not faint or die or swoon. Gazing through the gloom like one Whose life and hopes are also done, Frozen like a thing of stone I sit in thy shadow  but not alone. Can God bring back the day when we two stood Beneath the clinging trees in that dark wood? A Year and a Day Slow days have passed that make a year, Slow hours that make a day, Since I could take my first dear love And kiss him the old way; Yet the green leaves touch me on the cheek, Dear Christ, this month of May.

I lie among the tall green grass That bends above my head And covers up my wasted face And folds me in its bed Tenderly and lovingly Like grass above the dead. Dim phantoms of an unknown ill Float through my tired brain; The unformed visions of my life Pass by in ghostly train; Some pause to touch me on the cheek, Some scatter tears like rain. A shadow falls along the grass And lingers at my feet; A new face lies between my hands  The Holy Family,1854 Christ her grief to tell. She shall stand to listen, She shall stand and sing, Till three winged angels Her lovers soul shall bring. He and she and the angels three Before Gods face shall stand; There they shall pray among themselves And sing at His right hand. Dead Love Oh never weep for love thats dead Since love is seldom true But changes his fashion from blue to red, From brightest red to blue, And love was born to an early death And is so seldom true. Then harbour no smile on your bonny face To win the deepest sigh.

The fairest words on truest lips Pass on and surely die, And you will stand alone, my dear, When wintry winds draw nigh. Sweet, never weep for what cannot be, For this God has not given. If the merest dream of love were true Then, sweet, we should be in heaven, And this is only earth, my dear, Where true love is not given. Early Death Oh grieve not with thy bitter tears The life that passes fast; The gates of heaven will open wide And take me in at last. Then sit down meekly at my side And watch my young life flee; Then solemn peace of holy death Come quickly unto thee. But true love, seek me in the throng Of spirits floating past, And I will take thee by the hands And know thee mine at last. Lovers Listening to Egyptian Girls Playing Music, 1854 Fragment of a Ballad Many a mile over land and sea Unsummoned my love returned to me; I remember not the words he said But only the trees moaning overhead. And he came ready to take and bear The cross I had carried for many a year, But words came slowly one by one From frozen lips shut still and dumb.

How sounded my words so still and slow To the great strong heart that loved me so, Who came to save me from pain and wrong And to comfort me with his love so strong? I felt the wind strike chill and cold And vapours rise from the red-brown mould; I felt the spell that held my breath Bending me down to a living death. Gone To touch the glove upon her tender hand, To watch the jewel sparkle in her ring, Lifted my heart into a sudden song As when the wild birds sing. To touch her shadow on the sunny grass, To break her pathway through the darkened wood, Filled all my life with trembling and tears And silence where I stood. I watch the shadows gather round my heart, I live to know that she is gone  Gone gone for ever, like the tender dove That left the Ark alone. Lady Clare, 1857 Life and night are falling from me, Death and day are opening on me, Wherever my footsteps come and go, Life is a stony way of woe. Lord, have I long to go? Hallow hearts are ever near me, Soulless eyes have ceased to cheer me: Lord may I come to thee?

Life and youth and summer weather To my heart no joy can gather. Lord, lift me from lifes stony way! Loved eyes long closed in death watch for me: Holy death is waiting for me  Lord, may I come to-day? My outward life feels sad and still Like lilies in a frozen rill; I am gazing upwards to the sun, Lord, Lord, remembering my lost one. O Lord, remember me! How is it in the unknown land? Do the dead wander hand in hand? God, give me trust in thee. Do we clasp dead hands and quiver With an endless joy for ever? Do tall white angels gaze and wend Along the banks where lilies bend? Lord, we know not how this may be: Good Lord we put our faith in thee  O God, remember me. Ope not thy lips, thou foolish one, Nor turn to me thy face; The blasts of heaven shall strike thee down Ere I will give thee grace. Take thou thy shadow from my path, Nor turn to me and pray; The wild wild winds thy dirge may sing Ere I will bid thee stay.

Turn thou away thy false dark eyes, Nor gaze upon my face; Great love I bore thee: now great hate Sits grimly in its place. All changes pass me like a dream, I neither sing nor pray; And thou art like the poisonous tree That stole my life away. Before the Battle, 1858 Now Christ ye save yon bonny shepherd Sailing on the sea; Ten thousand souls are sailing there But they belong to Thee. If he is lost then all is lost And all is dead to me. My love should have a grey head-stone And green moss at his feet And clinging grass above his breast Whereon his lambs could bleat, And I should know the span of earth Where some day I might sleep. The Lust of the Eyes I care not for my Ladys soul Though I worship before her smile; I care not where be my Ladys goal The Lady of Shalott, 1853 When her beauty shall lose its wile. Low sit I down at my Ladys feet Gazing through her wild eyes Smiling to think how my love will fleet When their starlike beauty dies.

I care not if my Lady pray To our Father which is in Heaven But for joy my hearts quick pulses play For to me her love is given. Then who shall close my Ladys eyes And who shall fold her hands? Will any hearken if she cries Up to the unknown lands? The Passing of Love O God, forgive me that I ranged My live into a dream of love! Will tears of anguish never wash The passion from my blood? Love kept my heart in a song of joy, My pulses quivered to the tune; The coldest blasts of winter blew Upon me like sweet airs in June. Love floated on the mists of morn And rested on the sunsets rays; He calmed the thunder of the storm And lighted all my ways. Love held me joyful through the day And dreaming ever through the night; No evil thing could come to me, My spirit was so light. O Heaven help my foolish heart Which heeded not the passing time That dragged my idol from its place And shattered all its shrine True Love Where the tall grass bends to listen To the murmur of the wave.

Laden autumn, here I stand With my sheaves in either hand; Speak the word that sets me free, Naught but rest seems good to me. Worn Out Thy strong arms are around me, love My head is on thy breast; Low words of comfort come from thee Yet my soul has no rest. For I am but a startled thing Nor can I ever be Aught save a bird whose broken wing Must fly away from thee. I cannot give to thee the love I gave so long ago, The love that turned and struck me down Amid the blinding snow. I can but give a failing heart And weary eyes of pain, A faded mouth that cannot smile And may not laugh again. Yet keep thine arms around me, love, Until I fall to sleep; Then leave me, saying no goodbye Lest I may wake, and weep.

Famous paintings of Ophelia by Millais, Waterhouse and other artists Famous paintings of Ophelia by Millais, Waterhouse and other artists Updated on August 2, 2012 Ophelia by John Everett Millais, 1851-52 Image courtesy of Wiki Commons Millais's Pre-Raphaelite Ophelia - Lizzie Siddall modelled in a bathtub The Pre-Raphaelite artists of Victorian England painted many Shakespearian characters, but Ophelia was a particular favourite. The sad death by drowning of Hamlet's sweetheart has captured the imagination of numerous artists, but John Everett Millais' well-known painting of a pale, red-haired Ophelia floating in still, dark water, surrounded by overhanging greenery, and a drifting posy of flowers, is surely the most famous of these images. John Millais was a founder member of a group of Victorian artists known as the Pre-Raphaelite Brotherhood. He was dedicated to producing a fresh and naturalistic realism in his art, and had a very good eye for detail.

Millais planned his painting of Ophelia with meticulous care, beginning with the background, which he painted directly from a section of the Hogsmill River in Ewell, Surrey. The laborious task of faithfully recording every bud, every leaf, and every blade of grass took Millais a solid five months of work. He sat painting on the riverbank for up to eleven hours a day, six days a week, and as the summer of 1851 wore on into autumn, and the weather began to turn against him, he had a little hut erected to shelter him from the rain and wind while he worked. The second stage of Ophelia was completed in Millais' studio at 7 Gower Street in London. Nineteen year old Elizabeth Siddal agreed to model for the painting, and she was made to lie fully clothed in a full bathtub in the studio. By now it was winter, and Millais was obliged to place oil lamps under the tub to warm the water. Unfortunately, however, he soon became so engrossed in his work that he failed to notice when they went out.

As a result, Siddal caught a severe cold, and her angry father sent Millais a letter demanding £50 for medical expenses, though eventually a lower sum was agreed. The flowers shown floating on the river correspond with Shakespeare's description of Ophelia's garland. T"There's rosemary, that's for remembrance. Pray you, love, remember. And there is pansies, that's for thoughts," said Ophelia to her brother Laertes. "There's fennel for you, and columbines. There's rue for you, and here's some for me; we may call it herb of grace o' Sundays. O, you must wear your rue with a difference. There's a daisy. I would give you some violets, but they withered all when my father died." The flowers illustrated also reflect the Victorian interest in the "language of flowers", which suggests that each bloom has a symbolic meaning. Millais has included red poppies in his painting, although these are not mentioned in Shakespeare's description, and the poppy represents sleep and death. Ironically, the model, Lizzie Siddal later died tragically of a laudanum overdose.

Laudanum is derived from the opium poppy. Detail from Ophelia by John Everett Millais Image courtesy of Wiki Commons Ophelia by John William Waterhouse, 1894 Oil on canvas. Image courtesy of Wiki Commons Ophelia by John William Waterhouse John William Waterhouse (1849-1917) painted many large canvases in a Pre-Raphaelite style. He was particularly fond of subjects from literature, especially beautiful, tragic heroines. The character of Ophelia greatly appealed to him, and he was to paint her four times. A fifth planned painting was never completed due to ill-health. In Shakespeare's play, 'Hamlet', Ophelia is the daughter of Polonius, and sister to Laertes. She has been Hamlet's sweetheart, but he rejects her love, and subsequently kills her father. These actions profoundly affect Ophelia and unbalance her mind. Her mad scene (act IV, scene 5) is one of the best known in Western literature. In Waterhouse's painting shown above, Ophelia is decorating her hair with a garland, and there are more flowers and herbs in her lap.

She is shown sitting on a bent over willow on the banks of a brook, and we know that this is where she will meet her fate. Ophelia by Arthur Hughes, 1851-53 Oil on panel. Image courtesy of Wiki Commons Ophelia by Arthur Hughes Arthur Hughes (1832-1915) completed his version of Ophelia in 1853 when he was only 21 years old. Hughes' Ophelia is a fragile, pale creature seated on the bent over trunk of a willow, contemplating the waters at her feet. Her hair is garlanded, and she is holding an armful of greenery. Hughes has painted his heroine with such delicacy. Her skin is almost luminous, and her expression is unbearably sad.

The painting has been completed on panel, and the golden arch that frames it, is inscribed with words from Shakespeare's play, 'Hamlet', Act 4 Scene 7; There is a willow grows aslant a brook That shows his hoar leaves in the glassy stream There with fantastic garlands did she make Of crow-flowers, nettles, daisies, and long purples Elizabeth Eleanor Siddal - Elizabeth Eleanor Siddal Biography - Poem Hunter Elizabeth Eleanor Siddal - Elizabeth Eleanor Siddal Biography - Poem Hunter Biography Biography of Elizabeth Eleanor Siddal Elizabeth Eleanor Siddal was an English artists' model, poet and artist who was painted and drawn extensively by artists of the Pre-Raphaelite Brotherhood, including Walter Deverell, William Holman Hunt, John Everett Millais (including Millais' 1852 painting Ophelia) and most of Dante Gabriel Rossetti's early paintings of women. Early Life Named Elizabeth Eleanor Siddall, after her mother, Lizzie was born on 25 July 1829, at the family’s home at 7 Charles Street, Hatton Garden.

She was born to Charles Crooke Siddall, who claimed that his family descended from nobility, and Eleanor Evans, a family of both English and Welsh descent. At the time of Lizzie’s birth, her parents were not poverty stricken: her father had his own cutlery-making business. Around 1831, the Siddall family moved to the borough of Southwark, in south London, a less salubrious area than Hatton Garden. It was in Southwark that the rest of Lizzie’s siblings were born: Lydia, to whom Lizzie was particularly close, Mary, Clara, James and Henry. Although there is no record of her having attended school, Lizzie was able to read and write, presumably having been taught by her parents. She developed a love of poetry at a young age, after discovering a poem by Tennyson on a scrap of newspaper that had been used to wrap a pat of butter; this discovery was one of Lizzie’s inspirations to start writing her own poetry.

Model for the Pre-Raphaelites Siddal, whose name was originally spelt 'Siddall' (it was Rossetti who dropped the second 'l') was first noticed by Deverell in 1849, while she was working as a milliner in Cranbourne Alley, London. Neither she nor her family had any artistic aspirations or interests. She was employed as a model by Deverell and through him was introduced to the Pre-Raphaelites. William Michael Rossetti, her brother-in-law, described her as "a most beautiful creature with an air between dignity and sweetness with something that exceeded modest self-respect and partook of disdainful reserve; tall, finely-formed with a lofty neck and regular yet somewhat uncommon features, greenish-blue unsparkling eyes, large perfect eyelids, brilliant complexion and a lavish heavy wealth of coppery golden hair." At the start of her modelling career, Siddal was in the enviable position of being allowed to remain working at Mrs. Tozer’s millinery part-time. In this was she was ensured a regular salary even if modelling did not work out, an unusual opportunity for a woman of her time.

While posing for Millais' Ophelia (1852), Siddal had floated in a bathtub full of water to model the drowning Ophelia. Millais painted daily into the winter with Siddal modelling. He put lamps under the tub to warm the water. On one occasion the lamps went out and the water slowly became icy cold. Millais was absorbed by his painting and did not notice. Siddal did not complain. After this session she became very sick with a severe cold or pneumonia. Her father held Millais responsible, and forced him to pay compensation for her doctor's bills. It was long thought that she suffered from tuberculosis, but some historians now believe that an intestinal disorder was more likely. Some have suggested that she might have been an anorexic, while others attribute her poor health to an addiction to laudanum or to a combination of ailments. In his 2010 book At Home, author Bill Bryson suggests that Elizabeth may have suffered from poisoning, because she was a "devoted swallower" of Fowler's Solution, a so-called complexion improver made from dilute arsenic. Elizabeth Siddal was the primary muse for Dante Gabriel Rossetti throughout most of his youth.

After he met her he began to paint her to the exclusion of almost all other models and stopped her from modelling for the other Pre-Raphaelites. These drawings and paintings culminated in Beata Beatrix, painted in 1863, one year after Siddal's death. She was used as a model for this painting, which shows a praying Beatrice (from Dante Alighieri). Life with Rossetti Beginning in 1853, with his watercolour, The First Anniversary of the Death of Beatrice, Rossetti painted her in many works. In this piece, Lizzie portrays a regal woman, who visits the distinguished Dante as he writes his autobiography. Too absorbed with his overwhelming passion for Beatrice, Dante initially fails to notice the other people present in the room. Wearing a long, tailored blue gown and a teal headdress, Lizzie clearly occupies a position of considerable rank and beauty. Following this work, Rossetti used Lizzie in other Dante-related pieces, including Dante's Vision of Rachel and Leah (1855) and Beatrice Meeting Dante at a Marriage Feast, Denies him her Salutation (1851).

In the latter painting, Lizzie represented Dante's obsession, Beatrice, and again wore a distinguished, long green dress and possessed exquisite beauty. Surrounded by throngs of supporters, she confronts Dante with a defiance that attests to her authority. After becoming engaged to Rossetti, Siddal began to study with him. In contrast to Rossetti's idealized paintings, Siddal's were harsh. This is very evident in her self portrait, pictured above. Rossetti painted and repainted her and drew countless sketches of her. His depictions show a beauty. Her self portrait shows much about the subject, but certainly not the floating beauty that Rossetti painted. This painting is historically very significant because it shows, through her own eyes, a beauty who was idealized by so many famous artists. In 1855 the art critic John Ruskin began to subsidize her career. Ruskin paid £150 per year in exchange for all drawings and paintings that she produced. Siddal produced many sketches but only a single painting. Her sketches are laid out in a fashion similar to Pre-Rapaelite compositions and tend to illustrate Arthurian legend and other idealized Medieval themes.

Ruskin also admonished Rossetti in his letters for not marrying Siddal and giving her the security she needed. During this period Siddal also began to write poetry, often with dark themes about lost love or the impossibility of true love. "Her verses were as simple and moving as ancient ballads; her drawings were as genuine in their medieval spirit as much more highly finished and competent works of Pre-Raphaelite art," wrote critic William Gaunt in The Pre-Raphaelite Dream. Rossetti again represented Lizzie as Dante's Beatrice in one of his most famous works, Beata Beatrix, (1864–1870) which he painted as a memorial to Lizzie after her death. This piece also mimicked the death of Dante's love in his autobiographical work, Vita Nuova. In the work, amidst a yellow haze of relatively indistinct shapes, including Florence's Ponte Vecchio and the figures of Dante and Love, Lizzie sits, representing Dante's Beatrice. With an upturned chin and closed eyes, Lizzie appears keenly aware of her impending fate, death. A bird, which serves as the messenger of death, places a poppy in her hands.

Critics have praised the piece for its emotional resonance, which can be felt simply through the work's moving colouring and composition. The true history of Rossetti and his beloved wife further deepens its meaning; although their love had waned at that point, Lizzie still exerted a powerful influence on the artist. Perhaps the artist's most abundant and personal works, however, included his pencil sketches of his wife at home. He began these sketches in 1852, when he moved into a home, Chatham Place, with Lizzie, and the two became increasingly anti-social, absorbed in each other's affections. The lovers even coined affectionate nicknames for one another, which included "Guggums" or "Gug" and "Dove" - one of Rossetti's names for Lizzie. Rossetti taught Lizzie to paint and write. Although Lizzie produced mediocre work, due to his complete adoration of her, Rossetti labeled her a creative genius. Rossetti manifested this same idealization of Lizzie in his sketches (most of which he entitled simply, "Elizabeth Siddal"), in which he portrayed her as a woman of leisure, class, and beauty, often situated in comfortable settings.

In both his art and writings, Rossetti exalted Lizzie. In fact, his period of great poetic production began when he met her and ended around the time of her death. (Douchy, 155) His poem, "A Last Confession," in particular, exemplifies his love for Lizzie, whom he personifies as the heroine with eyes, "as of the sea and sky on a grey day." In this piece, a man's affections for a young girl progress from parental to romantic as the girl ages. Lizzie's prominence in Rossetti's works decreased as their love faded and she became increasingly ill. As Beata Beatrix shows, however, Rossetti never forgot his love for Lizzie, even after her death. Another famous work that he produced toward the end of their marriage was his Regina Cordium or The Queen of Hearts (1860). Painted as a marriage portrait, this picture features a close-up, vibrantly coloured depiction of Lizzie. Her shiny, golden hair complements the light orange hue of her heart necklace, and, with an upturned chin, she embodies the regal air implied by the title.

Such flattering portraits truly reflected Rossetti's undying affection for his wife. Relationship with Rossetti's Family As Siddal came from a working-class family, Rossetti feared introducing her to his parents. Lizzie was also the victim of harsh criticism from Rossetti's sisters. The knowledge that the family would not approve the marriage contributed to Rossetti putting it off. Siddal also appears to have believed, with some justification, that Rossetti was always seeking to replace her with a younger muse, which contributed to her later depressive periods and illness. Rossetti's relationship with Siddal is also explored by Christina Rossetti in her poem "In an Artist's Studio": One face looks out from all his canvases, One selfsame figure sits or walks or leans: We found her hidden just behind those screens, That mirror gave back all her loveliness. A queen in opal or in ruby dress, A nameless girl in freshest summer-greens, A saint, an angel -- every canvas means The same one meaning, neither more nor less.

He feeds upon her face by day and night, And she with true kind eyes looks back on him, Fair as the moon and joyful as the light: Not wan with waiting, not with sorrow dim; Not as she is, but was when hope shone bright; Not as she is, but as she fills his dream. Marriage, ill-health and death Siddal travelled to Paris and Nice for several years for her health. She returned to England in 1860 to marry Rossetti. The wedding took place on Wednesday, May 23, 1860, at St. Clement's Church in the seaside town of Hastings. They had no family or friends present, just a couple of witnesses whom they had asked in Hastings. At the time of their wedding, she was so frail from illness that she had to be carried to the church, despite it being a 5 minute walk from where she was staying. There is a sanctuary lamp in the church commemorating the wedding and a memorial to Rossetti. After the wedding, as soon as Lizzie was well enough, the Rossettis left for their honeymoon in France.

In the previous ten years he had been engaged to her and then broken it off at the last minute several times. Stress from those incidents had affected her. She was now severely depressed and her long illness had given her access to and addiction to laudanum. In 1861, Siddal became pregnant. She was overjoyed about this, but the pregnancy ended in a stillborn daughter. Siddal overdosed in 1862 on laudanum shortly after becoming pregnant for a second time. Rossetti discovered her unconscious and dying in bed. Although her death was ruled accidental by the coroner, there are suggestions that Rossetti found a suicide note. Consumed with grief and guilt Rossetti went to see Ford Madox Brown who is supposed to have instructed him to burn the note – under the law at the time suicide was both illegal and immoral and would have brought a scandal on the family as well, as suicide would bar Siddal from a Christian burial. Overcome with grief, Rossetti enclosed in Elizabeth's coffin a small journal containing the only copies he had of his many poems. He purportedly slid the book into Elizabeth's red hair.

She was then interred at Highgate Cemetery in London. By 1869, Rossetti was chronically addicted to drugs and alcohol. He convinced himself that he was going blind and couldn't paint. He began to write poetry again. Before publishing his newer poems he became obsessed with retrieving the poems he had slipped into Elizabeth's hair. Rossetti and his agent, the notorious Charles Augustus Howell, applied to the Home Secretary for an order to have her coffin exhumed to retrieve the manuscript. This was done in the dead of night so as to avoid public curiosity and attention, and Rossetti was not present. Howell reported to Rossetti that her corpse was remarkably well preserved and her delicate beauty intact. Her hair was said to have continued to grow after death so that the coffin was filled with her flowing coppery hair. The manuscript was retrieved although a worm had burrowed through the book so that some of the poems were difficult to read. Rossetti published the old poems with his newer ones; they were not well received by some critics because of their eroticism, and he was haunted by the exhumation through the rest of his life.

Seven years after Lizzie's death, Rossetti published a collection of sonnets entitled The House of Life; contained within it was the poem, "Without Her". It is a reflection on life once love has departed: What of her glass without her? The blank grey There where the pool is blind of the moon's face. Her dress without her? The tossed empty space Of cloud-rack whence the moon has passed away. Her paths without her? Day's appointed sway Usurped by desolate night. Her pillowed place Without her? Tears, ah me! For love's good grace, And cold forgetfulness of night or day. What of the heart without her? Nay, poor heart, Of thee what word remains ere speech be still? A wayfarer by barren ways and chill, Steep ways and weary, without her thou art, Where the long cloud, the long wood's counterpart, Sheds doubled up darkness up the labouring hill. -- From Without Her In Fiction, drama and song Fiona Mountain's 2002 mystery novel Pale as the Dead centres a "genealogical mystery" around the descendants of Elizabeth Siddal and Dante Gabriel Rossetti.

In the novel, the couple's sickly newborn daughter is not stillborn but is stolen by their family doctor, who was in love with Elizabeth. Elizabeth's mysterious ailments are explained as a genetic heart defect that has been inherited by her great-great granddaughter Bethany, a young woman who is modelling for photographs inspired by the Pre-Raphaelite paintings. Mollie Hardwick (author of Upstairs, Downstairs) wrote a mystery novel entitled The Dreaming Damozel in 1990. The plot follows antique dealer Doran Fairweather, who is elated to find a small oil painting she believes to be of Elizabeth Siddal. But she is shocked when she happens upon the body of a young girl, floating dead in a pond. The death scene mimics the Millais painting of Ophelia featuring Elizabeth Siddal. Doran is so excited by the coincidence and mystery that she ignores the advice of her husband, Rodney, who warns her that the story of Rossetti and Siddal was plagued by unhappiness. He feels that any involvement in this mystery will lead to trouble and danger. But Doran is quickly becoming obsessed with the Rossetti/Siddal saga and is making some interesting new friends.

She fails to see the trap that is ready to snare her. In Tim Powers' 2012 novel Hide Me Among the Graves, "Lizzie" Siddal is a victim of the vampire John Polidori, her husband's uncle and the author of what is likely the first vampire story. This becomes an explanation for her illness and death, as well as for her husband's exhumation of her grave, which is not to regain his poems but is part of a strategy to defeat the vampire. Rossetti's relationship with Siddal has been the subject of a number of television dramas, notably Dante's Inferno (1967), by Ken Russell, in which she was played by Judith Paris and Rossetti by Oliver Reed; The Love School (1975) in which she was played by Patricia Quinn; and Desperate Romantics (2009) in which she was played by Amy Manson. "Ghostland" is a 2001 album by the Seattle neo-psychedelic band The Goblin Market, a side project featuring members of The Green Pajamas.

The band is named after a poem by Christina Rossetti, and the album is inspired by the exhumation of Elizabeth Siddal. This page is based on the copyrighted Wikipedia Elizabeth Eleanor Siddal; it is used under the Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 3.0 Unported License . You may redistribute it, verbatim or modified, providing that you comply with the terms of the CC-BY-SA. Elizabeth Eleanor Siddal Poems

Question: Which artist painted Lizzie Siddal floating in a bath as Ophelia?
Answer: JOHN EVERETT MILLAIS