Conscious and Unconscious Socialism in the Watercolors of
Walter Crane and Thomas Matthews Rooke
Eve Stano
In the eighteenth century, Sir Joshua Reynolds’ Discourses discussed the hierarchy of
appropriate artistic subjects, ordering these subjects from historical narrative at the apex, which
included religious and mythological subjects, down to portraiture, genre, landscape, animal
painting, and at the bottom, still life.1 Although this hierarchy was challenged in the nineteenth
century with the increasing predominance of landscape, genre, portraiture, and still life subjects
being displayed at exhibitions, paintings focusing on grand historical narratives often remained
the showcase pieces of the exhibitions, frequently garnering a more visible spot on the gallery
wall as well as a higher number of public viewers.
Both Walter Crane and Thomas Matthews Rooke took advantage of this Victorian
predilection for dramatic narrative subjects. Walter Crane’s The Fate of Persephone and
Thomas Matthews Rooke’s Herod’s Feast are both historical narratives, one a mythological
narrative and the other a religious narrative (figs. 1 and 2). Despite the obvious difference
between the subject matter of both pieces, I will argue that both The Fate of Persephone and
Herod’s Feast contain elements of socialist thought and were a subtle way to advocate for the
end of capitalist interests, while retaining the original narrative to please less politically minded
viewers. I will discuss the differences between Crane’s conscious and unconscious socialism
1
Treuherz, 11.
and will establish that Herod’s Feast is an unconscious socialist work by Thomas Matthews
Rooke. Additionally, I will discuss the network of socialist artists that impacted the thoughts of
both Walter Crane and Thomas Matthews Rooke and how these socialist ideals were transcended
into The Fate of Persephone and Herod’s Feast.
By the second half of the nineteenth century, socialist ideals were commonly advocated
among Victorians through art, literature, and of course, politics. The prevalence of inequality
between the classes of Victorian society were more apparent after the Industrial Revolution,
making not only those of hereditary nobility aristocrats, but also the wealthy tradesmen, made
rich by machine manufacturing and cheap labor, became members of high society as well. This
imbalance in the distribution of wealth among Britain’s population in addition to the suffering of
the poor gave rise to socialism in Britain, where equality was sought for all.2&3
One artist committed to socialist change was Walter Crane. Already by the 1860’s,
Crane was interested in constitutional reform. To further broaden his ideas of state and social
reform, he began to read John Stuart Mill, a British philosopher who promoted the idea of liberty
as freedom of the individual rather than unlimited state control.4 Crane also read the writings of
Charles Darwin and Herbert Spencer and believed that the inevitable progression of the physical
world, humankind, and society would bring about the decline of capitalism and consequently, the
rise of socialism.5 Additionally, Crane was in agreement with various writings of John Ruskin
and followed his Letters to the Workmen and Labourers of Great Britain, which detailed the
poverty and social oppression of the majority of Britain’s population. 6 Crane was in agreement
with Ruskin’s ideal that work was a necessity but ultimately that work should be a pleasant
2
Morgan, 113.
Wallace, 178-184.
4
Spencer, 142-143.
5
Ibid.
6
Ibid.
3
1
necessity, which has been ruined by industrialization and the introduction of machines into the
workplaces.7
By the 1870’s, William Morris and Walter Crane had met, but individual of one another,
they both began to become outward advocates for Socialism. In 1877, Morris was one of the
founding members of the Society for the Protection of Ancient Buildings, designed to honor
architecture of the past as Ruskin asserted previously in Stones of Venice.8 By 1884, Morris
began assisting with the weekly Socialist periodical, Justice.9 Walter Crane took notice of both
of these efforts and began a correspondence with William Morris after reading his pamphlet Art
and Socialism in the early 1880’s.10 By 1885, Crane officially joined the Socialist League. In
the June 1894 edition of Justice, he discussed the evolution of his support of socialism by
stating:
I imagine that as people can be roughly divided into Socialists and Individualists
so they can be sub-divided into conscious Socialists and unconscious Socialists. I
believe I really belonged to the latter class before I knew I belonged to the
former.11
By the time Crane painted The Fate of Persephone in 1877, he was already an
unconscious supporter of socialism before advancing into an outward or conscious supporter of
socialism. The Fate of Persephone conveys the narrative of a classical myth, the abduction of
Persephone (fig. 1). In this myth, Pluto, god of the underworld, is overcome with love and lust
from Cupid’s arrow, when he views Persephone picking flowers with a group of women. The
painting portrays the subsequent actions of Pluto as he swoops in on his chariot to abduct
Persephone from the world of the living and remove her to his home, hell. It is important to note
7
Ibid., 146.
Ibid.
9
Miele, 2.
10
Spencer, 144.
11
Ibid, 141.
8
2
that Crane always referred to the god of the underworld as Pluto rather than the corresponding
Roman name of Hades, because Pluto was the dual god of richness and death.12 As Morna
O’Neill states in Walter Crane: The Arts and Crafts, Painting, and Politics, 1875-1890 (2010),
Pluto “wears the armor of industrialism and the helmet of the factory,” whereas Pluto’s wealth is
conveyed by the metal of Pluto’s armor and his chariot.13 This is more evident in Crane’s oil
rendition of The Fate of Persephone shown just one year later in 1878 at the Grosvenor Gallery
(fig. 3).
Around the same time as these watercolor and oil paintings, Crane drew compositional
sketches of The Fate of Persephone, which include industrial smokestacks in the background
belching dark clouds in place of the volcanoes in the watercolor (figs. 4 and 5). As O’Neill
describes, the smokestacks indicate that Pluto is a capitalist and a plutocrat, benefiting
financially from his industries, contributing to his wealth and power. Additionally, industry is
portrayed as the death of nature because the factories now occupy a once rural area in the
composition.14 Persephone and the women personify the poor laborer, harvesting the fruits of
nature, in this case flowers. The smokestacks coupled with Persephone’s abduction and
subsequent rape symbolize the death, destruction, and willful abuse of all those weaker than
Pluto, in other words, all those at the mercy of capitalist enterprise. As Crane was not yet a
formal follower of socialist ideals in 1877, and to keep public interest in his work on a broader
level, it is likely Crane removed the city and chimneystacks from his watercolor replacing them
with volcanoes. In this way, Crane purposely concealed his socialist message with symbolism
unrelated to socialist elements, such as the volcanoes’ smoke or the gathering of flowers, causing
the underlying message of socialism to be unperceived or “unconscious” for most viewers.
12
Crane, Reminiscences, 188.
O’Neill, 39-43.
14
Ibid.
13
3
Those viewers would only see the narrative of Persephone’s abduction and would remain
unaware or unconscious of Crane’s intended socialist meaning. For viewers able to distinguish a
socialist message from a work’s symbolism, the work would be representative of conscious
socialism. For example, smokestacks, cities, weapons, tools, businessmen, or laborers would be
obvious symbols of socialism in the Victorian period and would be incorporated into artworks by
Crane when he wanted viewers to recognize or be conscious of the socialist meaning within a
work.
Later works by Crane are examples of conscious socialism. In 1885, Crane delivered his
first socialist speech, Art and Commercialism. Shortly after this, Crane began designing
propaganda for the Socialist League and their journal, The Commonweal, as well as for the
socialist periodical, Justice.15 The following examples are all works of Crane’s conscious
socialism. For example, around 1890, Crane designed both Death and Commerce and The
Capitalist. Both emphasize the plutocracy of wealth coupled with death.16 In Death and
Commerce, death sits behind an industrialist, as identified again by the smokestacks in the
background (fig. 6). Here, the wealthy, fat, and well-dressed capitalist parades his horse over the
skeletal remains of what might have been part of his poor workforce. Similarly, in The
Capitalist, the rich businessman is parading his wealth by showing off his horse, armor,
decorative attire, and array of guns and other deadly weapons (fig. 7). Finally, in England’s
Emblem, Crane paints another historical narrative, this time showing Saint George, the patron
saint of England and in this case socialism, slaying a dragon, which often symbolizes
guardianship over gold or riches.17 In classical myths, a dragon was seen as vigilant, protecting
treasure or wealth, such as the Golden Fleece, or other goods, such as the apples of the
15
Spencer, 144-145.
O’Neill, 39-43.
17
Allen and Griffiths, 125.
16
4
Hesperides.18 Later on, the dragon became a symbol of greed, guarding gold or wealth,
frequently the treasure of the dead, for the simple pleasure in preventing others from obtaining it
and would kill those who attempted to partake of the horded riches.19 The dragon in England’s
Emblem mimics the dual role of Pluto, as a god of wealth and lord of death. In this way, the
dragon opposing St. George is a double of Pluto in The Fate of Persephone; both are plutocrats,
protectors of industry and wealth as well as purveyors of death, depicted by Crane’s familiar
background of industrial buildings with smokestacks belching out toxic, dark clouds (fig. 8).20
The inclusion of mythological and legendary beasts and monsters was common practice
for Crane’s contemporary socialist images. In 1885, Crane completed The Socialist Vampire
where capitalism is assigned to the giant vampire bat gorging on an unconscious laborer’s body,
while the angel of socialism swoops in to save the man (fig. 9).21 Another of Crane’s inclusions
of legend is his Socialism and the Imperialistic Will O’ the Wisp of 1907, printed in the May Day
issue of Justice (fig. 10). A will o’ the wisp is a mythical figure that leads passerby down the
wrong swampy path or into bogs to drown by carrying hazy orbs of light that the traveler
follows.22 In this image, the blackened will o’ the wisp is leading a British workman, saddled
with a figure representing imperialism and taxes, deeper into water that represents degradation
and decline.23 In this print, a woman, who looks like Liberty and carries a staff with a bright
light bulb, represents the socialist party, who warns the worker that he is being misled.24 As
previously mentioned, in England’s Emblem, a black dragon is the monster that guards industry
and capitalism while Saint George on a white steed attempts to slay the beast (fig. 8).
18
Hall, 321-322.
Allen and Griffiths, 125.
20
O’Neill, 43-44.
21
Spencer, 148-149.
22
Trevelyan, 178-179.
23
Ibid., 155.
24
Spencer, 155.
19
5
In all of these socialist images, Crane uses the dichotomy of lightness and darkness to
symbolize good versus evil. Angels and women who represent the socialist party usually wear
white clothing and carry torches of fire or some form of light to banish the evil dark forces
preying on the common laborer, such as the black vampire and will o’ the wisp. Rather than a
torch or light bulb, Saint George has his white horse for a source of light in the overall dark
composition. This dichotomy between light and dark is echoed in The Fate of Persephone,
where Persephone and her fellow group of women are dressed in white, while Pluto is dressed in
dark armor, has black horses to pull his chariot, and arises from the murky river (fig. 1 or 3).
In contrast to William Morris, Crane did not strive for revolution or militant socialism but
rather supported nature in art and favored education of the masses, which was in line with Fabian
Socialism.25 Additionally, Crane, along with many other British socialists, supported handicraft
over mass production as well as the individual creativity of the craftsman, once again following
Ruskin’s ideals purported in Stones of Venice and Unto this Last.26 Consequently, many of
Crane’s socialist designs include both elements of nature and/or the laborer. One example is A
Garland for May Day, an image created for the 1895 May Day labor celebration featured in The
Clarion (fig. 11).27 This image is made up of a woman representing freedom holding a giant
garland or wreath of flowers symbolizing the return to nature and an idyllic Britain as opposed to
the increasing spread of industry and pollution. The Fate of Persephone parallels this opposition
between industry and nature; Pluto’s greed and abduction of Persephone, who is picking flowers
in a meadow, signifies the encroachment of industry on rural lands and nature in Britain (fig. 2)
Another example of the incorporation of laborers and nature is the cover of Fabian Essays from
1889 where a well-dressed plump man representing privilege is perched on a ladder, guarding
25
Ibid., 146-147.
O’Neill, 88.
27
Smith, 86-87.
26
6
the fruit of the tree by pointing guns at the two laborers below, signified by holding either an axe
or a shovel. The “Privilege” is preventing the workers from gathering any sustenance or more
literally, the fruits of their labor (fig. 12).28 The use of weapons, specifically guns, indicates the
blatant disregard for human life and violent reign of money and goods by capitalism and
commerce. This theme has been represented before in Crane’s The Capitalist and Death and
Commerce (figs. 6 and 7). Similarly in The Fate of Persephone, Pluto’s armor and chariot, like
that of a soldier or warrior, imitates the war industry is waging against humanity, a violence
which is further emphasized by Pluto’s impending rape of Persephone (fig. 2).
On a more positive note, Solidarity of Labour from 1897 portrays an Angel of Freedom
overlooking workers from various parts of the globe, holding hands, encircling an image of the
earth, and standing over their tools of trade: a pick-axe, hoe, and shovel as well as a basket
containing harvested grains (fig. 13).29 The cooperation and community of workers was a
common theme for socialist propaganda. One of Morris’ socialist beliefs that he shared with
Ruskin was “nostalgia for earlier and simpler forms of community.”30 One such example of
community is displayed on the May Day cover for 1894, The Workers’ May Pole, which depicts
socialism as a uniting force by making the allegorical figure of socialism the May Pole (fig. 14).
Laborers from both genders wind the May Pole ribbons around in a circle, symbolizing the
solidarity of the working class and the socialist groups the same way the circle of international
workers around the world symbolize solidarity and unity in Solidarity of Labour. The everpresent elements of nature, flowers, and tall strands of grain and grass, are included in The
Workers’ May Pole and The Fate of Persephone as well.
28
Spencer, 147.
Smith, 88-89.
30
Pierson, 86.
29
7
In The Triumph of Labour, published for the 1891 May Day, this ideal of workers from
all skills uniting for a common goal is personified by the procession where workers hold items
that distinguish their skill or trade (fig. 15).31 For example, the pitchfork of the man on the left
symbolizes agrarian skills; the ship in the upper-middle left of the composition suggests sailing
or fishing skills, while the left-most man sitting in the cart holds paintbrushes and a palette for
paints denoting he is an artist. Throughout, elements of nature abound with flowers, garlands on
the cart, and the cornucopia full of grains and other grown food items held by a woman in the
middle of the picture. Again, as in The Socialist Vampire, liberty and socialism are depicted as
an angel with a torch, who leads the procession of workers. The Triumph of Labour was
published in three languages: English, French, and German, as this print was to be published and
sold on the Continent as well as in Britain, which attests to Crane’s popularity as a socialist artist
throughout Europe.32 Based on examples in the prior few paragraphs, it is evident that Crane’s
conscious socialist propaganda were designed to emphasize the political message of socialism to
the viewer and be published in periodicals to reach the maximum amount of viewers, unlike The
Fate of Persephone, whose unconscious socialism is hidden by the primary message or narrative
of Persephone’s abduction.
Comparable to Crane’s Fate of Persephone is Thomas Matthews Rooke’s painting,
Herod’s Feast. Although there is no record of Rooke openly professing his belief or interest in
socialism, this painting conveys a subtle and unconscious socialist message similar to The Fate
of Persephone that is hidden by the primary message of the religious story of Salome’s dance
and King Herod’s beheading of Saint John the Baptist. This work also contains many
31
32
Crane, “Work,” 13.
Ibid.
8
similarities in symbolism of plutocracy and socialism depicted in Crane’s The Fate of
Persephone as well as in Crane’s numerous other socialist works discussed previously.
Herod’s Feast represents the New Testament tale of Salome’s dance for King Herod at
his banquet, who in return for his step-daughter’s mesmerizing dance promises her anything she
wishes (fig. 2). Salome’s mother, Herodias, directs Salome to ask for the head of Saint John the
Baptist on a platter, because the saint admonished King Herod for marrying Herodias when she
was already married to King Herod’s brother, Philip. King Herod reluctantly grants Salome’s
request and beheads Saint John the Baptist. Rather than portray the act of Saint John’s
beheading or his head on a platter held by Salome, Rooke focuses on the dance of Salome during
King Herod’s banquet to emphasize Herod’s dual role as king of wealth and death just as Pluto is
king of death and wealth in The Fate of Persephone. The title is also telling, as Rooke calls this
piece Herod’s Feast and not Salome’s Dance. In this way, Rooke is drawing attention to the
actions and character of King Herod, who may be seen as a plutocrat. Being the king of wealth,
King Herod promises to grant any wish of Salome, believing his wealth could provide for
anything she asked. Unfortunately, Salome asks for the head of Saint John on a platter, and as a
result, King Herod becomes the king of death by fulfilling Salome’s request and killing Saint
John the Baptist.
Another reason Herod’s Feast may be seen as an unconscious socialist subject is due to
Rooke’s decision to return to a religious narrative years after he moved away from portraying
religious subjects, but rather began concentrating on landscapes and architectural subjects (figs.
16, 17, and 18).33 Rooke was a studio assistant of Sir Edward Coley Burne-Jones, a PreRaphaelite painter of the Victorian era. 34 Burne-Jones supported the Society for the
33
34
Athenaeum, 542-543.
Lago, 1-2.
9
Preservation of Ancient Buildings, called Anti-Scrape, and he recommended Rooke to John
Ruskin as a draftsman to accurately depict buildings and landscape in Italy and more
specifically, Venice.35 After his initial trip from May 1879 until January 1880, Rooke went on
other journeys to various countries on the Continent as a draftsman. Rooke’s drawings and
watercolors from these travels were then used to instruct members of Ruskin’s Guild of Saint
George who were unable to travel to see architecture and landscape on the Continent.36 Over the
years, Rooke developed a correspondence with Ruskin, who sent letters of instruction and
encouragement guiding Rooke on proper principles of drawing.37
As a result of Ruskin’s tutelage, Rooke looked up to Ruskin and paid close attention to
his theories and ideals regarding art and society. There is no doubt that Rooke must have read
Ruskin’s Stones of Venice and absorbed some of its romantic socialist meaning. In Volume II of
The Stones of Venice, published in 1853, Ruskin states, “It is verily this degradation of the
operative into a machine…It is not that men are ill fed, but that they have no pleasure in the work
by which they make their bread, and therefore look to wealth as the only means of pleasure.”38
This statement claiming social unrest came from dissatisfaction with work must have had some
effect on Rooke, as he was a craftsman as well as an artist working in an age where massproduction of goods by machines was in direct competition with the decorative arts he produced
for Morris & Co. Ruskin’s chastisement of wealth and commerce as a source of pleasure, when
work should be the ethical source of pleasure, is evident in Herod’s Feast. The wealth of King
Herod is unmistakable, marked by the abundant food; decorative goblets and dishes made of
precious metals and jewels; the intricate tapestry hung behind and above the king emphasizing
35
Ibid., 5-6.
Wilcox, 39.
37
Lago, 5-7.
38
Ruskin, 334.
36
10
his position as the source of the wealth in the room; the crystal chandeliers hanging above; the
group of musicians assembled; the monumental architecture; and finally King Herod’s stepdaughter dancing for his entertainment. According to Ruskin’s Unto This Last, an essay
published in an 1860 issue of Cornhill Magazine, all of this wealth symbolizes the lack of
morality that King Herod enjoys as a plutocrat, which runs parallel to the wealth enjoyed by
capitalists in the new industrial world. Unto This Last was commonly adopted by Socialists,
particularly Christian Socialists who agreed that social reform was akin to moral restoration of
society.39 Similar to the fat men protecting their assets in Crane’s The Capitalist and cover of the
Fabian Essays, Rooke depicts King Herod’s and his banquet guests’ sins of greed and gluttony
by the overabundance of food prepared as well as the reclining positions of the guests to assist in
their overindulgence of food (figs. 2, 7, and 12).
Another ideal of Ruskin was that an artist or craftsman “should look to nature that is
round him.”40 Many of Crane’s socialist works contain elements of nature or agrarian society,
such as The Workers’ May Pole or Triumph of Labour, where flowers, crops, and grains are part
of the composition to show the fruits of a laborer’s hard, honest work (figs. 14 and 15). In
Herod’s Feast, the plants, flowers, food, and even music represent the results of laborers’ work
that they are not allowed to enjoy, as they are reserved for King Herod and his guests. Returning
to the preservation of buildings, Ruskin also mentions in Stones of Venice the importance of
preserving records of great works while any other imitation should be avoided.41 The
culmination of Rooke’s skill in representing and recording ancient architecture may be seen in
the columns of the hall and background buildings in Herod’s Feast (fig. 2).
39
Pierson, 34-35.
Ruskin, 344, 346.
41
Ibid., 336.
40
11
Yet another maxim of Ruskin’s is the significance of “love of truth, prevailing over the
sense of beauty.”42 Rooke’s adherence to truth is apparent to critics of his day, who censured
Salome as being “not too beautiful” and the other women guests as being “commonplace.”43
While another review in The Art Journal simply stated that Herod’s Feast was “not so good as
he [Rooke] has done.”44
Ultimately, with Stones in Venice and Unto This Last, Ruskin was attempting to elevate
the status of decorative arts to that of the fine arts “because they combined mental and manual
labor.”45 Another strong supporter of the decorative arts and socialism during the Victorian era
was William Morris. In the transcripts of Rooke’s conversations with Burne-Jones as rewritten
by Burne-Jones’ wife, Rooke describes his and Burne-Jones’ discussions of William Morris and
his ideas about art and society.46 Both Burne-Jones and George Howard speak of Morris being a
“human dynamo” with strong opinions.47 Many of Morris’ principles regarding art and
craftsmanship echo those of Ruskin, such as the necessity of incorporating nature into works of
art which was adopted from Ruskin’s On The Nature of Gothic, a chapter in Stones of Venice.48
Morris considered this work as “one of the very few necessary and inevitable utterances of the
century” and consequently, printed On The Nature of Gothic at the Kelmscott Press in 1892 as an
independent publication.49
In further support of Ruskin, Morris claims in The Art of Plutocracy (1884), “Art is
man’s expression of his joy in labour. If those are not Professor Ruskin’s words they embody at
42
Ibid., 345-346.
Athenaeum, 543.
44
Art Journal, 192.
45
Boris, 5.
46
Lago, 42-45.
47
Ibid., 5, 44 and Ridgway, 7.
48
Van der Post, 62.
49
Robinson, 13.
43
12
least his teaching on this subject.”50 Morris goes on to state that the skilled workman will cease
to exist due to industrialization, mass-produced machine-made goods, and commerce.51
Consequently, Morris advocated for the individual freedom of the artist and craftsman, believing
that such a goal could only be achieved by the creation of a socialist state and the riddance of
capitalism.52 Thus, the Art Workers’ Guild and the Arts and Crafts Exhibition Society were
founded in the 1880’s and provided a venue for decorative arts to be exhibited and elevated to
the level of fine art.53 In addition, The Arts and Crafts Exhibition Society also hosted
instructional sessions regarding handicraft technique and taught by decorative artists such as
Morris and Crane.54 Rooke demonstrated his own support of the decorative arts and
craftsmanship with the upholstery and hanging tapestry in Herod’s Feast. These decorative
items mirror Morris’ decoration of his own dining hall at Kelmscott House. Just as the tapestry
in Herod’s Feast hangs behind and above King Herod in the banquet area, so too the tapestry in
the dining room at Kelmscott House hangs on the side wall reaching up over any visitors to the
ceiling (fig. 19).55 Moreover, Rooke displayed his love of the decorative arts with the plates,
dishes, goblets and other serving items made of precious metals in Herod’s Feast, which align
with the decorative ideals of Ruskin in Stones of Venice:
Therefore, money spent in the purchase of well-designed plate, of precious
engraved vases, cameos, or enamels, does good to humanity; and, in work of this
kind, jewels may be employed to heighten its splendor; and their cutting is then a
price paid for the attainment of a noble end, and thus perfectly allowable.56
50
Morris, 440.
Ibid., 443-444.
52
Boris, 14.
53
Ibid., 14-15.
54
Ibid., 15.
55
Wilhide, 50-51.
56
Ruskin, 337.
51
13
However, Ruskin cautions that those who purchase such goods “merely for the sake of
their value is, therefore, a slave-driver.”57 King Herod would fit into this characterization
as his overwhelming abundance of precious metals, tapestries, gemstones, and lavish
food at the banquet displays the king’s desire to show off his wealth and status to others.
Morris’ pamphlets, publications, and personal beliefs in socialism would not have been
foreign to Rooke as he worked for William Morris in the 1870’s. Indeed, in a short memoir
written by Thomas Matthews Rooke in 1926, he mentions bumping into the Treasurer of the
Royal Watercolor Society (RWS), G.H. Andrews, at one of Morris’ socialist meetings. Andrews
admitted to Rooke that “It would never do for the Society [RWS] to know – if it was to be
known I was to be seen here they wouldn’t put up with it.”58 Rooke goes on to state that, “he
[Andrews] considered that for a mere Associate like the writer [Rooke] to be discovered in such
a delinquency was quite another matter.”59 In other words, the RWS would not be bothered
about the socialist activities of Associate members. Although there is no record of Rooke
officially joining the Socialist League, it is important to note that he did attend at least one
socialist meeting and likely more, despite Burne-Jones disapproval of Morris’ involvement with
socialism stating, “Such a pity he [Morris] ever took that up. What wouldn’t I give that he
should never have been in with it at all.”60 This lends credence to Mary Lago’s idea that Rooke
was not “prone to hero-worship” but rather that “Rooke admired him [Burne-Jones]…because he
and Burne-Jones shared a concept of ideal beauty and near-mystical devotion to art as a
vocation.”61 Consequently, these remarks afford credibility to the idea that Rooke was involved
57
Ibid.
Fenwick, 34.
59
Ibid.
60
Lago, 92.
61
Ibid., 7.
58
14
in socialism to a small degree, increasing the probability that Herod’s Feast contains socialist
meaning even if it is hidden or unconscious to most viewers.
Another well-known socialist artist that Rooke was acquainted with is Walter Crane, the
creator of The Fate of Persephone watercolor discussed in the first half of this essay. Both
Walter Crane and Thomas Matthews Rooke worked with Edward Burne-Jones on George and
Rosalind Howard’s Palace Green dining room frieze of Cupid and Psyche that required twelve
years time to complete, while William Morris concluded the ceiling design for the same room.62
During such a lengthy decorative arts collaboration, there can be no doubt Rooke would have
been exposed to the developing ideals of British socialism and the decorative arts from both
Crane and Morris.
Although it is probable Rooke incorporated socialist elements into Herod’s Feast and
may have chosen that dramatic subject as a demonstration of King Herod’s role as a plutocrat,
there could be an alternative reason for Rooke’s choice of painting topic. The same motives
could be said of Crane’s choice when painting The Fate of Persephone. In William Morris to
Whistler: Papers & Addresses on Art & Craft and the Commonweal, Crane remarked on the
crowded aspect of the art galleries and “the effects of the modern commercial principle of
individual competition.”63 He then laments the increase in portraiture due to “the domination of
money” and the predilection of members in high-society and wealthy circles to commemorate
themselves in a portrait along with the inevitable decline of “works of imagination.”64 In a
possible bid to have their works stand out from competing artists, both Crane and Rooke may
have chosen mythical and religious narratives, as such “works of imagination” were fewer in
62
Ridgway, 10-12.
Crane, William Morris, 83-84.
64
Ibid., 84-85.
63
15
number and therefore had less competition in exhibitions during the later part of the nineteenth
century.
Additionally, Crane mentions the imitations of subject matter by multiple artists in a bid
for buyer preference and how most modern artists’ styles are appropriated from some other
artistic source or artist, from the past, present, or both.65 This recycling of subject matter for
paintings is a common trend among Victorian artists, particularly the Pre-Raphaelites. A prime
example of this is Crane’s The Fate of Persephone watercolor painting of 1877. Prior to Crane’s
treatment of this topic, Edward Poynter showed Proserpine in the spring of 1868 at the Dudley
Gallery.66 Dante Gabriel Rossetti created at least eight versions of Proserpine; the one he began
in 1873 centers on Proserpine holding a pomegranate, the fruit she ate one kernel from
preventing her escape from the underworld for earth (fig. 20).67 In 1891, more than a decade
after Crane’s The Fate of Persephone, Frederick Leighton’s The Return of Persephone represents
Persephone’s return to earth, greeting her mother, Demeter, and father, Zeus (fig. 21).68 Only
Crane’s painting about Persephone contains any reference to socialist symbolism and meaning,
which is unsurprising given he is the only artist of the group committed to making Victorian
society aware of socialism.
Similarly, Crane replicates the mythical story of Pandora from prior works of the same
topic. Dante Gabriel Rossetti drew two different Pandora paintings, one in 1869 and another
beginning in 1874. Both are three-quarter length portraits of Pandora holding her box (figs. 22
and 23).69 Reminiscent of his The Fate of Persephone, Crane’s Pandora of 1885 is another
mythical narrative. In this image, Pandora is draped over the box filled with good and evil; on
65
Ibid., 84.
Ridgway, 8.
67
Parris, 231-232.
68
Roberts.
69
Parris, 305, 309.
66
16
the sides of the box are images of the tree of knowledge of good and evil with a serpent twining
around its base, as well as the Three Fates (fig. 24). According to Morna O’Neill, the fall of
Adam and Eve into temptation as well as the Three Fates symbolize the rise of socialism and a
“renewed” society after the collapse of greedy capitalism.70 So once again, Crane uses
symbolism to disguise the socialist message in this painting, making Pandora a fellow
unconscious socialist work to The Fate of Persephone.
Comparable to Crane’s repetitions of mythical narratives to relay a socialist meaning,
Rooke repeats the topic of Salome’s dance at King Herod’s banquet to emphasize the dualistic
role of Herod as a symbolized Pluto. Prior to Rooke’s painting, Edward Armitage created
Herod’s Birthday Feast in 1868. Unlike Rooke’s painting, Herod’s Birthday Feast contains
figures that are simply dressed in muted shades of creams, browns, or other muted colors, except
for King Herod, who is dressed in red (fig. 25).71 The banquet table is not overflowing as in
Rooke’s painting, and the serving dishes are brown and possibly made out of wood compared to
Rooke’s decorative dishes of precious metals and gems. There are no ornate tapestries,
upholstery, or crystal chandeliers in Armitage’s painting, and there is only a meager amount of
natural elements, one small plant in the foreground and trees in the background with the tops just
visible over the obstructing wall. Missing the major compositional elements of expensive
decorative items, nature and flowers, overabundance of food, and luxurious attire, Herod’s
Birthday Feast could not be considered a socialist painting, because King Herod’s character as a
plutocrat is excessively weakened with the lack of decorative, expensive objects to signify
Herod’s wealth. In 1885, Robert Fowler completed The Dance of Salome, which has a similar
subject to Herod’s Feast but does not include King Herod or the banquet hall and table (fig.
70
71
O’Neill, 115-116, 119-121.
City of London.
17
26).72 Rather, Fowler has focused the subject on Salome, her dancing, and the three figures
surrounding her: one figure playing music, another clapping, and the last figure simply watching
Salome. Although this painting certainly contains aspects of the decorative arts, with the
flowering trees and ornamental pot and tapestry, it could not be deemed to have a socialist
meaning as King Herod is omitted from the piece and therefore the plutocratic message is absent.
Ultimately, only Herod’s Feast by Rooke contains a multitude of socialist symbols to indicate
the unconscious socialist meaning underneath the overlaying religious narrative.
In conclusion, both Walter Crane and Thomas Matthews Rooke designed their
watercolors, The Fate of Persephone and Herod’s Feast, to conceal a socialist message from
viewers. Only Victorians with knowledge of socialism would have been able to decipher the
myriad of symbols within these two works to arrive at the hidden, unconscious socialist meaning
that capitalism and commerce are killing the freedom and individuality of the laboring class.
With this method of masked socialist advocacy, Crane and Rooke succeeded in avoiding
alienation from viewers unsympathetic to the socialist cause, while simultaneously producing
dramatic narratives to attract attention from potential buyers. As Walter Crane wisely stated:
So, in the pictorial world, the economic system under which we live makes itself
felt by encouraging each artist to fight for his own hand, and to become a
specialist of one sort or another, unless he can live by exploiting some other
artist’s discovery and method. Few, probably, among artists are fully conscious
of this compulsion, or, at least, of its cause…73
Ironically, pressure to earn a living from their works and to conform to consumer demands
certainly affected the choice of subject matter and method for both Crane and Rooke, compelling
them to abandon their absolute right to individual creativity free from the contamination of
commercial motives.
72
73
Christie’s.
Crane, William Morris, 87.
18
Illustrations
Figure 1. Walter Crane, The Fate of Persephone, watercolor , 1877, Chazen Art Museum.
Figure 2. Thomas Matthews Rooke, Herod’s Feast, graphite and gouache, 1895, Chazen Art
Museum.
19
Figure 3. Walter Crane, The Fate of Persephone, oil and tempera, 1878, private collection.
Image obtained from Morna O’Neill, Walter Crane, 2010, p.36, illustration 9.
Figure 4. Walter Crane, The Fate of Persephone, pen sketch, c. 1878, Walter Crane Collection,
Local Studies Unit, Royal Borough of Kensington and Chelsea Library. Image obtained from
Morna O’Neill, Walter Crane, 2010, p.43, illustration 15.
20
Figure 5. Walter Crane, The Fate of
Persephone, pen sketch, c. 1878, Walter Crane
Archive, Whitworth Art Gallery, University of
Manchester. Image obtained from Morna
O’Neill, Walter Crane, 2010, p.43, illustration
14.
Figure 6. Walter Crane, Death and
Commerce, c. 1890, Walter Crane
Archive, Whitworth Art Gallery,
University of Manchester. Image
obtained from Morna O’Neill,
Walter Crane, 2010, p.41,
illustration 12.
21
Figure 7. Walter Crane, The
Capitalist, c. 1890, Huntington
Library, Art Collections, and
Botanical Gardens, San Marino,
CA. Image obtained from Morna
O’Neill, Walter Crane, 2010, p.40,
illustration 11.
Figure 8. Walter Crane, England’s Emblem, 1895, untraced, photograph from Walter Crane
Archive, Whitworth Art Gallery, University of Manchester. Image obtained from Morna
O’Neill, Walter Crane, 2010, p.44, illustration 16.
22
Figure 9. Walter Crane, The Capitalist
Vampire, 1885, reprinted in Cartoons
for the Cause. Image obtained from
Isobel Spencer, Walter Crane, 1975,
p.149.
Figure 10. Walter Crane, Socialism
and the Imperialistic Will O’ the
Wisp, 1907, printed in the May Day
issue of Justice. Image obtained
from Isobel Spencer, Walter Crane,
1975, p.155.
23
Figure 11. Walter Crane, A Garland
for May Day, 1895, printed in the May
Day issue of Justice. Image obtained
from Greg Smith and Sarah Hyde,
Walter Crane 1845-1915, 1989, p.87,
illustration B5.
Figure 12. Walter Crane, cover for
Fabian Essays, 1889. Image
obtained from Isobel Spencer,
Walter Crane, 1975, p.147.
24
Figure 13. Walter Crane, Solidarity
of Labour, 1897, printed in the May
Day issue of Justice. Image obtained
from Greg Smith and Sarah Hyde,
Walter Crane 1845-1915, 1989, p.89,
illustration B8.
Figure 14. Walter Crane, The
Workers’ May Pole, 1894. Image
obtained from The Art Journal, The
Easter Art Annual for 1898, p. 20.
25
Figure 15. Walter Crane, Triumph of Labour, 1891. Image obtained from The Art Journal, The
Easter Art Annual for 1898, p. 22.
Figure 16. Thomas Matthews Rooke, oil on canvas, The Story of Ruth, 1876-1877, Tate Gallery.
26
Figure 17. Thomas
Matthews Rooke, pencil
and watercolor heightened
with white, on paper,
Hogarth's house, Chiswick,
1896.
Figure 18. Thomas Matthews
Rooke, pencil and watercolor, St.
Bartholomew’s, 1924.
27
Figure 19. William Morris, dining
room at Kelmscott House in the
late 1890’s. Image obtained from
Elizabeth Wilhide William Morris
Décor and Design, 1994, p. 51.
Figure 20. Dante Gabriel Rossetti,
oil on canvas, Proserpine, 18731877, L.S. Lowry Collection.
28
Figure 21. Frederick Leighton, The
Return of Persephone, 1891, Leeds
Art Gallery.
Figure 22. Dante Gabriel Rossetti,
Pandora, 1869, Faringdon
Collection.
29
Figure 23. Dante Gabriel Rossetti,
Pandora, 1874-78, Lady Lever Art
Gallery.
Figure 24. Walter Crane, Pandora, 1885, private collection. Image obtained from Morna
O’Neill, Walter Crane, 2010, p.116.
30
Figure 25. Edward Armitage, oil on canvas, Herod’s Birthday Feast, 1868, Guildhal Art Gallery,
City of London Collection.
Figure 26. Robert Fowler, oil on canvas, The Dance of Salome, 1885, unknown location.
31
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