#and the first half of the lady of shalott poem

[dottielovegood]

The Lady of Shalott and Elain Archeron

This will be a comparative analysis of Alfred Tennyson’s poem The Lady of Shalott (1842), three paintings by Waterhouse, and Elain Archeron (because why not?)

I recently read The Lady of Shalott for the first time in years and I couldn’t help but see the similarities between the character in Tennyson’s poem and Elain, so I decided to write this analysis since I love both the poem, the art and our flower girl. There will also be mentions of Elriel.

Synopsis: In short, the poem tells the story of the Lady of Shalott, also known as Elaine of Astolat (very fitting name…). 

In the beginning of this Victorian poem, we are introduced to the Lady (this is what I will call her in this text) and the setting. We are told that she is cursed (but we do not know what the curse really is). She is locked in a tower and not allowed to look out the window. Instead, she has a mirror that reflects the world outside. She watches the world through that mirror and weaves what she sees. 

In the middle of the poem, the Lady sees a handsome man in her mirror - Lancelot. And for the first time in her life, she turns around to look out the window to behold him. The mirror cracks and the Lady knows that the curse is upon her. 

She runs out of the tower and writes her name on a small boat. Knowing that she is cursed, she gets in the boat and lets it float away, and there, on the river, she dies a peaceful death. When the boat enters Camelot, Lancelot sees her face and says, "She has a lovely face; God in his mercy lend her grace, The Lady of Shalott."

1. I am half sick of shadows / To see what cannot be seen

This painting by Waterhouse is called “I am half sick of Shadows, said the Lady of Shalott.” In this stanza, we can see where Waterhouse found his inspiration:

But in her web she still delights To weave the mirror's magic sights, For often thro' the silent nights A funeral, with plumes and lights      And music, went to Camelot: Or when the moon was overhead, Came two young lovers lately wed: "I am half sick of shadows," said              The Lady of Shalott.

As previously mentioned, the Lady is cursed and forced to sit in her tower and weave what she sees in the mirror. She had no companions and is doomed to spend her life alone, watching but never participating in life. In Waterhouse’s painting, we can see two lovers reflected in the mirror. Something that is worth noting is that we can also see a red poppy in the mirror (at the bottom, by her loom), but the flower cannot be seen in the foreground. The red poppy symbolizes eternal sleep and foreshadows her fate. 

In the poem, it is clear that the Lady is tired of only seeing the shadows of reality. This image of the lady locked in a tower can represent the Victorian ideal of the ideal woman: virginal, mysterious and dedicated to womanly tasks. She is a passive object. 

Elain:

At the beginning of ACOWAR, Elain spends most of her time in her room in the House of Wind. She looks out the window, maybe looking for the life she was forced to leave behind? She sees herself as cursed after being forced into the cauldron. Her curse is that she can see things others cannot. Her mind produces images that make no sense to her and the people around her wonder if she might be broken. She does not participate in ordinary life and her life is only a shadow of what it once was. She was engaged to be married to a man she thought she loved who loved her back. Now, she’s forced to watch happy couples and happy people when she herself is miserable. Her mate’s attempts to get her attention are not making things better. 

We later find out that Elain is a seer, which brings my attention back to the poppy. The Lady is only allowed to look in the mirror and there, she can see her fate in the small flower. She can see her curse - just like Elain can see things that haven't happened yet. Maybe she can also see her own curse? 

Just like the Lady of Shalott, Elain has been called passive. People accuse her of not ‘doing anything’ and that she is boring because she enjoys ‘womanly tasks’. And yes, in the beginning of ACOWAR, she was more passive, which can be explained by the fact that she did not understand her own mind. 

2. The mirror crack'd from side to side / To see or be seen 

In this painting, The Lady of Shalott looking at Lancelot, we can see the cracked mirror in the background. The Lady is looking right at us and she is tangled in the threads of her tapestry. One could also see this as the Lady being tangled in the threads of her own fate. In the mirror, we can also see Lancelot as he rides by. 

In the poem, the Lady sees Lancelot and falls in love instantaneously. In the following stanza, we can see the Lady’s reaction to seeing the handsome knight:

She left the web, she left the loom, She made three paces thro' the room, She saw the water-lily bloom, She saw the helmet and the plume,            She look'd down to Camelot. Out flew the web and floated wide; The mirror crack'd from side to side; "The curse is come upon me," cried             The Lady of Shalott.

Here, the lady is no longer passive. She is actively “choosing to defy her confinement, in pursuit of her own desires” (see source). As soon as she turns, the mirror cracks and she knows that the curse is upon her. She knew that the curse would come, yet she decided to go against everything she knew and believed, just for a glance of the man she loved. 

In Victorian times, this might have been seen as the lady being cursed for giving up on her ideals. She, and women in general, were supposed to be virginal, passive and obedient. When she looks out that window to look at Lancelot, she is leaving these ideals behind. She is now a woman actively choosing her own path and being in control of her own sexuality. She is longing for something, for someone, and she allows herself to go after what she wants - even if it might destroy her.

Elain:

In ACOWAR, Elain is also drawn to a particular man/male - Azriel. She lets him carry her and take her out to the garden and when she sees his hands/siphons, she tells him that they’re beautiful. This is Elain being more active than passive. She is talking to Azriel, engaging with him. 

Everyone else thinks that she is cursed and that there’s something wrong with her (Feyre calls Madja to examine Elain, Lucien tries to feel what is wrong with her through the mating bond and Nesta guards Elain at all times). Everyone is protective of Elain, even though they don’t understand her. They don’t truly see her. Like when she asks Lucien “I can hear your heart. Can you hear mine?” and he answers that he cannot. Here, one might interpret this as if Elain knows what’s in Lucien’s heart, but he does not know what’s in her heart. Her fate is tied to Lucien, yet he does not see her truth. 

Then, one person does see her. Azriel is the one who figures out that Elain is a seer and as soon as he utters those words, something changes. Elain has been isolating (just like the Lady), seeing things only as shadows (just like the Lady of Shalott) and she is changed after someone actually sees her. And after that, she can see herself more clearly. She can understand her curse. 

In the poem, the Lady understands her curse after she sees Lancelot. Although he does not see her in her tower, she decided to defy her fate because of the love she felt for Lancelot. And by leaving the tower, she is also making herself seen. She is not hidden in the shadows anymore and she is not afraid of what’s to come. She is actively making her own choices - even if they mean death. 

After Azriel tells her that she is a seer, Elain takes on a more active role. She, too, goes from passive to active. She, too, defies her fate. She tells Feyre that she does not want a mate. She joins the battle against Hybern. She kills the King of Hybern. 

She is tangled in the threads of her fate – her past where she was engaged to Graysen, her present where she is tied to Lucien, and her future that is yet to be written. But now, she can be an active participant in what her future will be. In ACOFAS, we see Elain dismiss Lucien in favor of spending an entire evening with Azriel, where she tells him about her plans for the garden. Before that, Azriel helps her carry a tray of potatoes. They see each other - and they are actively seeking out each other’s company - even though they shouldn’t. 

3. Like some bold seër in a trance / See me

First and foremost, when the Lady leaves the tower and sits down in the boat, she looks toward Camelot and Tennyson describes her like this: Like some bold seër in a trance. Which is…interesting. 

In this last part of the poem, the Lady flees the tower and finds a boat that can take her to Camelot. In Waterhouse’s painting, we can see the tapestry she has woven draped over the boat (in the smaller images on the tapestry we can see the lady herself and Lancelot surrounded by other knights). 

On the boat, we can also see a crucifix (which symbolizes sacrifice) and three candles - two have been blown out already, which might indicate that her life is about to end. She is just about to let go of the chain and let the boat take her to Camelot - to Lancelot. And on her journey, she dies. 

This is the last stanza of the poem: Who is this? and what is here? And in the lighted palace near Died the sound of royal cheer; And they cross'd themselves for fear,     All the knights at Camelot: But Lancelot mused a little space; He said, "She has a lovely face;God in his mercy lend her grace,    The Lady of Shalott."

When she reaches Camelot, she is already dead. The other knights “cross’d themselves for fear” but Lancelot looks at her and “muses a little space” and sends a prayer her way. And he is also probably the first person to ever say her name. Although she is dead, she can finally be seen. She can finally be a part of the outside world. And in death, her love saw her. 

One can analyze this poem in many ways. You might read it and think about the woman’s role in Victorian society and therefore see the theme as “freedom comes at a cost” - Yes, the Lady found her freedom, but as soon as she left her ‘morals’ behind, she died. 

One can also focus on the isolation the Lady of Shalott was subjected to. The harm of this isolation broke her and she eventually chose death just to get out of her loneliness (=one of my favorite interpretations). 

And then, for the sake of this analysis, I also want to bring up a different interpretation: “The Lady of Shalott's escape from her tower as an act of defiance, a symbol of female empowerment” (see source; Christine Poulson).

In this last interpretation, the Lady is breaking free from the norms and chains holding her hostage in a life she does not want. The lady is also coming to terms with her own female sexuality. Christine Poulson also writes that “the depiction of death has also been interpreted as sleep” and goes on to explain that sleep “has a connotation of physical abandonment and vulnerability, which can either suggest sexual fulfillment or be a metaphor for virginity.”

Elain:

Firstly, just like the Lady of Shalott, Elain has been told that she has “a lovely face” her entire life. This is something that defines her - she is the most beautiful sister. And as mentioned previously, Azriel is the first to truly see Elain, just like Lancelot is the first to truly see the Lady. 

Now, I do not think that Elain will lay down in a boat and die. But I do see the similarities between Elain and the Lady of Shalott here, especially when considering this last interpretation above. When the Lady leaves the tower and ‘dies’ this can be interpreted as sexual fulfillment. As mentioned earlier, the Lady goes from passive to active - actively choosing to act on her feelings for Lancelot. 

And as we can see in The Bonus Chapter from ACOSF (Azriel’s POV), Elain is also actively going after the man she wants. He is not what fate/the cauldron has chosen for her, but he is what she has chosen for herself. 

When he bends down to kiss her, Elain gives him “offer and permission”. She wants him. She yearns for him. She is aroused by him. By choosing him, she is leaving her old life as a human behind. She told Feyre that she doesn’t want a mate or a male, showing the readers that she was still mourning her human life. She wanted a man, not a male. Yet here she is, choosing a male that is not her mate. She is not only leaving her human life behind, she is also defying the life fate chose for her. 

In the poem, the lady dies because the curse was upon her. Yet, we still don’t know what this curse was. Was it really that she would die if she looked out that window? Or was the real curse knowing that she couldn’t have what she wanted? 

In the legend, we can read about Lancelot’s love for Guinevere (who is married to King Arthur) and Elaine of Astolat therefore died of a broken heart. Her curse was to love but never being loved in return. She sacrificed everything for him, only to find that he loved someone else. 

In the Bonus Chapter, Azriel leaves Elain in the hallway. She doesn't know why, but we can assume that she feels as though her love wasn’t returned. She told Azriel, with her words and her body, that she wanted him. Still, Azriel left, abandoning her. Leaving her alone, once again. Maybe Elain wonders if her curse is also to love but never being loved in return? 

No, Elain will not die from this, but there are certainly similarities between the two stories. I think, most importantly, that both Elain Arechron and Elaine of Astolat were women who didn’t have much choice. Their fate had been decided by some higher power and they had to look and act like good women. They were passive objects. Then, when they find love, they will do anything to make their own decisions. They turn into active subjects. They will do whatever it takes to get the love they want – the love they deserve. They will break the rules and the threads of fate, even if they're just given the smallest glimpse of what life could be like. They are holding onto hope - wishing for the life they so desperately want. 

Freedom is the ultimate goal for both women.

Freedom to be who they want to be.  Freedom to live the life they want to live.  Freedom to love the man they want to love.  And freedom to make their own choices, fate be damned!

[somediyprojects]

The Lady of Shalott stitched by Tarah Wheeler. Pattern ($6.99) designed by Teresa Wentzler.

I started this project when I was 19. I remember sitting on the lawn at Carroll College in Helena, Montana, and starting that first stitch up in the top left corner in DMC 420. The Lady of Shalott is a Teresa Wentzler pattern that came out in the late 1990s, and I’ve now finally finished it at the age of 41. The original myth is about Elaine, the Lady of Shalott, a fairy who fell in love with Lancelot and died while floating on a boat down the river to Camelot. It’s a frequently explored myth in Romantic literature, and this version is from Alfred, Lord Tennyson’s poem.

This piece captures the moment just before she looks out to Camelot and her mirror cracks, signalling the end of her life in captivity and her doomed pursuit of Lancelot.

But in her web she still delights To weave the mirror’s magic sights, For often thro’ the silent nights A funeral, with plumes and lights       And music, came from Camelot: Or when the moon was overhead Came two young lovers lately wed; ‘I am half sick of shadows,’ said       The Lady of Shalott.

This was quite a quarantine finish!

I think I was so motivated to finish this during the pandemic because I thought it was beyond ironic that I was embroidering a woman who was embroidering because she wasn’t allowed to leave her home or dream of going other places.

Additional details under the cut.

After completing much of the cross stitching, I had to go through it with a forensic magnifier to check each 10×10 section for missing stitches. I basically lost a weekend doing this! Not that I noticed; we’re still in a pandemic.

I put a lot of myself into this project. Given the Victorian origins of Tennyson and the Romantic poets who loved the Chrêtien de Troyes version of the Arthurian romances, I thought it might be nice to literally put myself into this project. So, Elaine’s hair is mixed with a tiny lock of mine, like a Victorian funeral wreath.

There’s often a really big difference between doing cross stitching, and doing the finishing work of backstitching. The tininess of the stitches in this piece means the contrast isn’t as great as in some others, but it’s still pretty spectacular to see it outlined in high relief.

After 22 years, I was a little afraid that it might just fall apart in the washing solution, but it worked just fine. Probably because it’s all natural fiber. I used The Laundress natural fiber shampoo.

This is Monaco fabric, and I spent several days googling techniques to remove graphite when I realized a simple wash wouldn’t do it. I tried several techniques like erasing it with a craft cushion full of rubber shavings, a pencil eraser, and so forth. I found that trying to erase the graphite gently simply pilled the fabric without actually removing much of the graphite. There are several solutions out there, and they seem to be replicated from site to site, possibly without anyone actually testing them. I’m here to say: the Windex + toothbrush solution is what worked without harming any of the fabric or thread. I was concerned about applying the blue chemical to my fabric, but the soft toothbrush plus 50/50 Windex/water solution worked better than anything without pilling the fabric. Remember: don’t iron your project dry until you’re happy with the level of stain and grid mark removal, or you’ll seal those stains in with heat and steam!

I pressed it before adding the Mill Hill beads, since it’s hard to iron over those glass metallic bits.

Washing done–time for stretching: I pressed it gently dry with an iron on low heat over towels like in the video above. When about halfway dry, I started stretching it gently to get it even and shaped correctly, then ironed it fully dry.

Time to decide on framing choices. At first it seemed that something this intricate and painstaking deserved extremely elaborate gold leaf framing of some kind.

It was fun to select matting that had a linen effect, to correlate with this being stitchwork done on a piece of fabric. But that frame wood was wrong. Instead of going overly elaborate with the wood, I explored a more rustic, plain, distressed wood frame.

This didn’t steal focus from the embroidery and also serves to possibly better reflect the kind of framing that might be done long ago when tapestries hung in castles and manor houses…

I like to have the frame shop cut a piece of foam core with a square cut out of it so that I can use dressmaker’s straight pins to pin over the square, then press it down into the larger piece of foamcore.

We’re going to hang it here in the entryway of our home. I picked an accent wall color that would act as the next outward framing of the piece, and this is me painting it.

When my husband got a beat up brass lamp on eBay and restored it, and used it to light the piece and the wall, it became spectacular.

Thank you so much to my lovely spouse Deviant Ollam for the work grinding, polishing, restoring, and adding a dimmer function to this old brass lamp to light this piece perfectly!

If you’re interested in the original pattern, it’s by Teresa Wentzler.

[dustofeve]

15, 17, and 42!

15.) name one musical album that greatly impacted your life? why?

Absolutely 100% has to be Wish by The Cure, my god. Not a lot of people like it and it does have one of the most overplayed Cure songs in it by far but I don't really mind that, the first half especially perfectly encapsulates my experiences with being overwhelmed by people, anxiety, and derealization

I spent my early college years in a really extreme state of dissociation on top of sh and substance abuse and that album pierced through the fog i was in so immediately, to the point where i still get super emotional hearing "Open" lol. I'd never listened to anything that I related to so heavily until then and haven't really since. That album is so special to me and I listened to it on repeat during those times

17.) what’s your favorite painting? and describe how it makes you feel?

Gonna pick two, "Fallen Angel" by Alexandre Cabanel being the first and purely for trans reasons lol. The pure rage and raw feeling of betrayal in his eyes is something I relate to a lot and even though it's a classic I never get tired of looking at it

Also, "The Lady of Shalott" by John William Waterhouse based on Tennyson's poem of the same name! My mom had a print of that painting hanging in her bedroom for most of my life and she was always so ethereal and beautiful to me. She was also the only other ginger I'd seen at that time and that made me feel pretty special lol! I really adore the colors and the expression on her face

42.) what’s your favorite item you’ve purchased secondhand?

i just answered this one but probably my big Demonia platforms!! I also found a really nice long leather jacket that fits me perfectly at an antique shop for $50 recently which i saw the EXACT brand + size of at a local gothy boutique for $200!!! That was a crazy good find

[dwellordream]

“…The ideas that animate Harlequin romance novels, Game of Thrones, and Disney movies alike can be traced back to the nineteenth century. Look at the paintings of the Pre-Raphaelites and others influenced by them—works like John William Waterhouse’s “Lady of Shalott” (1888) and Frederic William Burton’s “The Meeting on the Turret Stairs” (1864)—and you’ll see some very familiar figures.

These canvases reflect popular Victorian understandings of medieval ladies: passive, slender, aristocratic, the objects of knightly devotion. These women have never laboured in the fields with sunburned necks or callused hands. Their clothing and flowing hairstyles are eclectic, designed more to make nineteenth-century audiences think about a distant, misty, heroic past than to accurately reproduce any given moment in the Middle Ages. And, they are, invariably, white.

Art doesn’t exist in a vacuum. These paintings were produced when European imperialism was at its zenith; when Darwinian theories of evolution were twisted to justify colonialism and social hierarchies based on race; and when a supposed early-medieval “Teutonic”—or Germanic—ancestry for the white Protestant populations of Britain and North America was claimed to be the reason for the explosive economic growth of those regions.

They were also painted at the same time that white people in Europe and the Americas were enjoying steadily increasing standards of living—in large part thanks to the backbreaking, and often coerced, labour of those in colonised places. Black and brown women helped to shape history, but Victorian society excluded them from the category of “lady” because of the colour of their skin.

Nineteenth-century thinkers drew on the medieval past in order to justify racial and class inequities, or burgeoning notions of nationalism. These thinkers racialised the medieval lady. They idealised her as white, passive, and unsuited to manual labour. In doing so, they made her into a rationale as to why her elite, white, female descendants could sip tea in parlours while brown and black women toiled in the fields—or in their houses—to bring them that tea. The status quo was given such a venerable heritage that it was made to seem natural, even inevitable. Such ideas were then, and are now, pervasive and insidious. They were absorbed by white women, by Disney animators, by the makers of Halloween costumes, and even by those who write histories.

But what happens if we take the medieval lady off her pedestal? What kind of woman do we see inhabiting the Middle Ages if we try to peel off the Victorian veneer of chivalry and politesse? Does looking at what medieval people actually did in the past tell us something about our own assumptions concerning race and gender? In part, this is a process where we have to reconsider the language we use. What do we mean by “lady”? What did medieval people mean by the term? Or, rather, since most texts produced in western Europe in the Middle Ages were written in Latin, what were the connotations which they associated with the word domina?

The first key difference is that the modern English word “lady” simply doesn’t have the aura of power which the Latin word domina did in the Middle Ages. A domina was a woman with authority and moral rectitude in her own right, not simply the consort or complement to a dominus (lord). A domina (and holders of other Latin titles applied to women in medieval records, like comitissa, vicedomina or legedocta) administered estates and adjudicated legal disputes. It did not matter whether she held her title by inheritance or through marriage. Those who held titles in their own right, or those who were widowed, could exercise significant power over fiefs and vassals.

For example, when Matilda, countess of Tuscany (1046-1115), was referred to as domina, it was because she controlled a large swathe of northern Italy. She was the mediator during the famous meeting between Pope Gregory VII and the German emperor Henry IV at her great fortress of Canossa. In doing so, she influenced the outcome of a major medieval power struggle. On his accession to the throne in 1199, King John of England installed his mother Eleanor of Aquitaine (ca. 1122-1204), as domina of the French territory of Poitou and gave her authority in all of his lands—a tacit acknowledgement of her political skill.

Eleanor even managed to expand queenly authority in some ways. She seems to be the first queen of England after the Norman Conquest to have regularly collected the “queen’s gold”, a one-tenth share of some of the legal fines paid to the king. This gave her a valuable (and somewhat independent) source of revenue—and with money comes power. As a more modest example, one contemporary of Matilda of Tuscany’s was a woman named Mahild of Alluyes, domina of a far smaller territory in northern France. She wasn’t a player in papal or imperial politics. Yet as wife and widow, she oversaw the affairs of her vassals and witnessed charters which they drew up in the chapter house of the nearby abbey of Marmoutier, which gave her considerable influence over their lives. And there are many, many more dominae in the sources.

Medieval aristocratic women were sometimes seen as passive by their male contemporaries; those with power who broke this mould were sometimes described in plainly misogynistic terms. But equally, their deeds could be lauded. For example, one of the great chroniclers of the early twelfth century, the Anglo-Norman Orderic Vitalis, wrote that the French noblewoman Isabel of Conches was “lovable and estimable to those around her.” He complimentarily said that she “rode armed as a knight among the knights”, and compared her favourably with Amazon queens.

Matilda of Boulogne (ca. 1105-1152), queen of King Stephen of England, was one of her husband’s most capable partisans during the Anarchy—the period of civil war that tore twelfth-century England apart. Not only did she head the government during her husband’s captivity, but proved herself a capable military commander. She directed troops into battle at the so-called Rout of Winchester and arranged for her husband’s release when he was captured.

A generation or so later, the English countess Petronella of Leicester (ca. 1145-1212) participated alongside her husband in the Revolt of 1173-74; she gave her husband military advice, rode armed onto the battlefield, and was even wearing armour when captured. These actions may not have been normal behaviour for a domina—administration and adjudication were more usual. But they were still within the bounds of possible behaviour for a medieval woman without endangering her status as a “lady.”

The Matildas, Mahild, Eleanor, Isabel, and Petronella: it is hard to imagine any of these dominae as the subject of a Waterhouse painting or the centrepiece of a Disney movie. They weren’t always victorious or virtuous; they could be ambitious and high-handed and hold ideas which most people today would find distasteful. And yet, whether medieval chroniclers approved or disapproved of these women individually, they didn’t think the very fact that they were active, decisive, and opinionated was out of the ordinary. Neither should you.

Nor would the colour of their skin have been thought a defining aspect of their status as a lady. There was certainly prejudice about skin colour in the Middle Ages. The relatively small number of non-white people in northern Europe means that we can’t definitively point to a woman of colour exercising political power there. But things were slightly different in southern Europe, in areas like Iberia—modern Spain and Portugal—which was long home to Christian, Jewish, and Muslim populations of multi-ethnic heritage.

While there were religious prohibitions against Muslim women marrying non-Muslim men, there are some scattered examples of intermarriages between dynasties in the early Middle Ages: Muslim women of north African or Arab descent marrying into northern, Christian royal families. For instance, Uriyah, a daughter of the prominent Banū Qasī dynasty, married a son of the king of the northern Spanish kingdom of Navarre; Fruela II, king of Asturias, married another Banū Qasī woman called Urraca. Their ancestry doesn’t seem to have posed a barrier.

Western Europeans may have only rarely had direct contact with non-white female rulers further afield—like the powerful Arwa bint Asma, queen of Yemen (r. 1067-1138)—but when they did, it could be in dramatic fashion. Shajar al-Durr, sultana of Egypt (d. 1257), famously captured Louis IX of France during the Seventh Crusade and ransomed him for an eye-wateringly large sum.

While historical examples of women of colour exercising prominent roles in Europe during the Middle Ages are few in number, skin colour didn’t limit the imaginations of white medieval Europeans. Medieval people often had clear anxieties about skin colour and blackness, but despite this racism they could still envision a brown- or black-skinned woman as a member of the upper classes, just as they did the white-skinned Mahild or Isabel.

For example, the early thirteenth-century German epic poem Parzival centres on the eponymous hero and his quest for the Holy Grail. Parzival has a half-brother, the knight Feirefiz, who is mixed-race. His mother, Belacane, is the black queen of the fictional African kingdoms of Zazamanc and Azagouc; the narrative praises her beauty and her regal bearing. As another example, a Middle Dutch poem written about the same time, Morien, recounts the story of the handsome, noble knight Morien, “black of face and of limb,” whose father Sir Aglovale fell in love with his “lady mother,” a Moorish princess.

However, the most vivid example is provided by medieval depictions of the biblical Queen of Sheba. Scholars think the historical Sheba likely lay somewhere in southwestern Arabia; other traditions place the kingdom in east Africa. Regardless of the queen’s historicity, various traditions grew up around her in the Middle Ages. Some of the most popular of these claimed that she had a son by the biblical king Solomon. She frequently appears alongside him in art, in elegantly draped garb as on the late twelfth-century Verdun Altar, or accompanied by courtiers as in an early fourteenth-century German illustrated bible: a beautiful black woman and a regal queen. When you think of a medieval “lady”—you could do worse than to think of her.

All of this should prompt us to look again, to reconsider how racialized Victorian ideals of womanhood still impact us—both in contemporary popular culture and also in our understandings of the medieval past. When we think about the Middle Ages, we should consider the impact of race, and especially whiteness, on how we think about it. That is not necessarily because our medieval forebears did so, but because our nineteenth- and early twentieth-century ones did so very much.

The idea of the “lady” was one of the useful fictions which they and others employed, glorifying white, upper-class womanhood as an apex of western achievement. This helped to make existing racial and imperial hierarchies seem like they had such a long history that they must be innate, biological: a simple fact of life. But it was a fiction, and a harmful one. If we are to better understand the medieval past, it is one we must set aside.”

- Yvonne Seale, “My Fair Lady? How We Think About Medieval Women.”

[msonalicious]

The Lady of Shalott is a ballad written by Alfred Tennyson in the first half of the 19th century (also see relevant the Wikipedia page). The narrative portrays the life of Elaine of Ascolat, a figure featured in Arthurian legend, and inspired by the 13th century Italian novella La Damigella di Scalot.

The Lady of Shalott tells the tale of a woman locked inside an island castle in a river that flows through to Camelot. She’s cursed to never look outside directly, always through a mirror, always aweaving, lest the curse befalls her.

Then one day, the inevitable happens: she looks outside and sees Sir Lancelot passing by. This vision, this prospect, lightens a yearning in her to go outside. So she breaks outside of her tower and takes a boat to Camelot. Unfortunately the curse has struck and whilst in transit, the Lady dies.

You can find the full text of the version of 1842 here.

Throughout the years, Tennyson’s ballad has been interpreted by a lot of people covering a lot of points of view. From casting the poem as Tennyson’s view on society, to interpreting the Lady’s departure as female emancipation.

My interpretation goes a step further. I’ve been listening to Loreena McKennit’s musical interpretation of this ballad for years and years. Of all of her songs, this is the song I turned to when I sought comfort, tenderness and grace.

It’s not until I actually looked up the history and story behind this ballad, that it clicked.

For years, the Lady of Shalott represented the woman I felt inside. Like Tennyson’s Elaine, I was stuck inside my tower. I looked outside, I interpreted, I weaved my tales, I interpreted through the mirror’s reflection, but never actually stepped foot outside my castle walls.

Until I skipped the mirror, looked for myself and knew I had no other choice but to choose freedom.

In my interpretation, of course, the curse does not befall the Lady and she does make it to Camelot, she remains alive.

I am quite certain this is not what Alfred Tennyson intended to tell, I’m equally certain that an entire host of literary critics would reposit my interpretation. Yet that is the beauty of poetry, of life: there is no wrong way, there is no right way, you can only ever go your own way.

[beewolfwrites]

And When I am Formulated - Reference List (for those who wanted one)

I know some of you liked the idea of this when I suggested it, so I've collected all the literature references from AWIAF.

I’ve also tried to include some of the reasons why they were used, you know... just in case you were wondering what’s up with the weird chapter titles :) 

-------------------------

Chapter 1 + 6: ‘The diving board’

-   This is from the short story, Forever Overhead, by David Foster Wallace.

-   I recommend reading it, simply because of how strange and alienating it is. However, I don’t recommend it if you’re currently experiencing depression or suicidal thoughts, simply because there’s an undercurrent there.

-   It’s mainly about societal systems and feeling constrained by the pointless processes that make up modern society. I figured the MC felt this way long before she got to the Borderlands.

Chapter 1: ‘John Steinbeck’s characters’.

-   They always play rummy in Of Mice and Men for some reason.

Chapter 4 + 22:  ‘The eyes that fix you in a formulated phrase...’, ‘until human voices wake us’, ‘forcing the moment to its crisis.’

-   These are all from The Love Song of J Alfred Prufrock by T.S. Eliot.

-   Although I have very, very mixed feelings about Eliot for a number of reasons, this poem pretty much helped summarise the story.

-   Chishiya pretty much had her ‘formulated’ from the very beginning, having already fixed her position in his plans. However, the only thing he didn’t have formulated was his own feelings.

-   Of course, the actual poem is about a proposal, which is why I couldn’t give you this list before :D

Chapter 4: Utopia by Thomas More.

-   I mean, this pretty much explains itself haha. 

Chapter 7 : ‘A Single Green Light’

-   This is from The Great Gatsby by F. Scott Fitzgerald.

-   Just like the green light on Daisy’s dock is a source of comfort to Gatsby, Kuina and Chishiya become a green light to the MC as they find her comfortable clothes and come to her aid in the militant situation, respectively.

Chapter 8: ‘Mad to Live, Mad to Talk’

-   The Road by Jack Kerouac.

-   This line features in a famous quote that was too long to include as a title: “the only people for me are the mad ones, the ones who are mad to live, mad to talk, mad to be saved, desirous of everything at the same time, the ones who never yawn or say a commonplace thing, but burn, burn, burn like fabulous yellow roman candles exploding like spiders across the stars”.

-   I thought this would represent how frenzied the beach is.

-   Everyone lives each day to the fullest, but it’s transient as they’re killed off every night.

Chapter 10: ‘A Train Whistle’

-   From Concerning the Sound of a Train Whistle in the Night by Haruki Murakami.

-   This is such a beautifully written short story. It’s so simple, yet it explains love so well.

-   The MC pretty much explained this one, but as I’m sure you all know, she ends up becoming the train whistle he needs to cut through the emptiness.

Chapter 11 + the underlined quote: ‘Without a Soul’, ‘I’m tired of being enclosed here...’

-   Wuthering Heights by Emily Bronte.

-   Chishiya rejects the idea of being tied to someone, despite his instincts telling him the opposite.

-   It’s an argument of rationality vs imagination both on a ‘souls exist/don’t exist’ scale and ‘I love her/I don’t need her’.

-   It was so, so tempting to have that mystery underlined quote be something romantic, but instead it felt more real to have it be something that reflects how far the MC has come.

Chapter 11: ‘In books, I could go anywhere I wanted. I could be someone else. I wasn’t alone.’

-   This was actually inspired by Matilda, by Roald Dahl.

-   Particularly this line: “So Matilda’s strong young mind continued to grow, nurtured by the voices of all those authors who had sent their books out into the world like ships on the sea. These books gave Matilda a hopeful and comforting message: You are not alone”.

-       That line has always made me cry. 

Chapter 12:  The Metamorphosis by Franz Kafka

-   It’s widely believed that Gregor Samsa’s father, who abuses him after he has turned into a cockroach.

-   I figured it could also reflect the MC’s father, as she’s spends the next day after the argument and Niragi’s attack focused on this book and plagued by it.

-   If books are usually her safe space, it has now been contaminated.

Chapter 14: ‘Half-Sick of Shadows’

-   The Lady of Shalott by Alfred Tennyson.

-   For those who haven’t read this beautiful poem yet, the Lady of Shalott is bound to her tower by a curse that will come into action if she ever looks out of the window. So, she uses a mirror to look out instead, but this only makes her unhappy as she watches others’ reaching happiness while she can only experience it through reflections.

-   Like the Lady of Shallot, the MC decides to take her life into her own hands, instead of letting her family hold her back.

Chapter 15: ‘Love and Squalor’

-   To Esme, with Love and Squalor, by J.D. Salinger.

-   In this whole chapter, the MC and Chishiya alternate between love and distrust. They’re somewhere in-between at this point in their relationship.

Chapter 18 + 19: ‘Do Not Go Gentle’

-   As you probably already know, this is Do Not Go Gentle Into That Good Night by Dylan Thomas.

-   This was included via a request, but it works perfectly for the Borderlands since everyone’s fighting death every single game, and they’re willing to do whatever it takes to survive.

-   It can also refers to their plan, and the idea that Chishiya and Kuina will go to extremes (like setting up Arisu) in order to escape the beach.

Chapter 19: ‘I May Think of You Softly’

-   The Crucible by Arthur Miller.

-   Although The Crucible has nothing in common with this fic, this quote itself summarises the MC’s feelings the best: “I may think of you softly from time to time. But I will cut off my hand before I’ll ever reach for you again”.

-   Even though she can’t stop loving him, she refuses to give in to his influence.

  Chapter 20 + 21: ‘Sound and Fury’

-   Macbeth by Shakespeare.

-   The full quote in Chapter 20 is from the famous “tomorrow and tomorrow” speech.

-   Life is simply excessive noise shouted by an idiot, but ultimately is pointless. The ‘idiot’ can be herself, for loving Chishiya; Niragi, for his relentless pursuit at getting back at Chishiya; or even the players themselves for trying so hard to survive.

-   Long story short, everything seems pointless since they’ll all probably die anyway.

Chapter 21: ‘Tread Softly’

-   From He Wishes for the Cloths of Heaven by Yeats.

-   In essence, she’s begging Chishiya to stop wiping his feet all over her dreams, lol.

Chapter 24: ‘And the Rest is Silence’

-   This is from Shakespeare’s Hamlet, and are also Hamlet’s last words.

-   Of course, it refers to death. It’s the last chapter, after all.

-   However, it’s just the death of the first stage, and the next one won’t be so silent :) 

[villadiodatis]

Works (possibly) referenced in COG2 chapter titles

Chapter 1: Better Angels--This could be one of about a hundred poems that are either titled or reference the phrase “better angels.” Could possibly also be a reference to Abraham Lincoln’s first inaugural speech.

Chapter 2: Ashes of Roses--Also several possibilities, including a Walt Whitman manuscript.

Chapter 3: This Living Hand--“This Living Hand,” John Keats.

Chapter 4: Half Sick of Shadows--“The Lady of Shalott,” Alfred Lord Tennyson.

Chapter 5: Fallen With the Night--Either “The Other” by Edward Thomas or “A March Day in London” by Amy Levy. I’m inclined to say it’s the Levy poem because of the book’s setting.

[chapter 6 not listed]

Chapter 7: No More of Mirth--“The Deserted House,” Alfred Lord Tennyson.

Chapter 8: No Strange Land--“In No Strange Land,” Francis Thompson.

Chapter 9: Deadly Wine--Probably “The Garden of Proserpine,” Algernon Charles Swinburne, but possibly “If I Told You About A Land of Love,” Yunus Emre.

Chapter 10: Loyalty Binds--Not sure about this one either. Loyaulte me lie, or “Loyalty binds me,” was the motto of King Richard III, but its appearances in poetry (especially late 19th/early 20th century) are few.

Chapter 11: Talismans and Spells--“The Task, Book VI: The Winter Walk at Noon,” William Cowper.

Chapter 12: The End of It--Another fairly frequent phrase. Probably another reference to Francis Thompson, this time “The End Of It.”

Chapter 13: Blue Ruin--Doesn’t appear noticeably in poetry. The only possible reference I could find was a 2013 thriller film of the same name. Doesn’t seem to fit the theme though, so I’ll leave it to you to decide.

Chapter 14: Among Lions--Frequent phrase. Possibly a reference to Ezekiel 19 in the Bible.

Chapter 15: The Whispering Room--Also appears in a bunch of poems, as well as the title of a 2017 thriller novel.

Chapter 16: Legion--Considering the possible Kipling reference below, it’s worth mentioning Kipling’s poem “The Lost Legion” here, but it’s really no use trying to determine a single word reference.

Chapter 17: The Hollow Sea--“The Poor Ghost,” Christina Rossetti.

Chapter 18: Darkness Stirs--Appears in many many poems, most notably in “A Summer Evening Churchyard,” Percy Bysshe Shelley.

Chapter 19: All Places Hell--Couldn’t find anything in notable poetry or literature.

Chapter 20: Less Than Gods--Either “A Recantation Poem,” Rudyard Kipling, or Paradise Lost, John Milton.

Chapter 21: Burn--Nope, not even trying this one.

Chapter 22: The Rules of Engagement--Very common phrase, no well-known poetry reference.

Chapter 23: No One Who Loves--Another common phrase, appearing in sentences like “There’s no one who loves me” or “No one who loves X would ever...”

This is in no way definitive, nor am I an expert on poetry. I’m just a bored English major who likes Tennyson and finding CC’s references.

[caithyra]

Alayne Allusions

You know, Sansa as Alayne seems to have a boatload of allusions to numerous stories, legends, fairy tales and myths for a character arc that (according to certain subsets of fandom) is about learning that life isn’t a song (in a world of dragons and zombies...).

Like there is Shakespeare’s As You Like It, famous for its disguises in which the noblewoman Celia becomes Aliena (”other/stranger”), but that’s pretty flimsy. And then we move onto myths.

Hades kidnapping Persephone causing her mother, Demeter who is Hades’ sister, to bring a long winter into the world. In the end, because Persephone ate pomegranate seeds of the underworld, she had to stay with Hades for half the year. Sansa/Alayne, of course, refused Baelish’s pomegranate. Though I wonder what will happen when undead Catelyn, his foster sister, shows up...

And, of course, it almost seems as if Sansa dreams about her dead direwolf is more than they seem, and thus a connection to the realm of the dead, perhaps?

Others have gone into more detail than I on how well the two stories fits.

Then there is Elaine of Astolat, also known as the Lady of Shalott, from the Arthurian myths. The name is an obvious connection, and the other being that romanticism of knights being her undoing. However, in her note written upon her death, according to Tennyson’s first version of the poem, it says:

"The web was woven curiously The charm is broken utterly, Draw near and fear not – this is I, The Lady of Shalott.” - Alfred Lord Tennyson (1833)

Words that can be reinterpreted to fit Sansa’s situation; the web being the game of thrones her being caught up in it unwittingly, the charm being the dream of Southern chivalry. Then we have Sansa after she’s grown up: “Draw near, fear not, this is [only] I...” on the surface, while she manipulates the game without anyone being the wiser. After all, she is just...

But Lancelot mused a little space; He said, "She has a lovely face; God in his mercy lend her grace, The Lady of Shalott."  - Alfred Lord Tennyson (1842)

Lancelot in the replaced part, of course, being Harry the Heir thinking Alayne a pretty face. Of note is that the first version is from the Lady herself, while the latter is what the Knight thinks of her.

Though, of course, Allerleirauh takes the cake, which is a fairy tale in the same vein as Cinderella (riches-to-rags-to-riches). Keep in mind that GRRM has confirmed that Sansa is a skin-changer (just without her direwolf to train with).

“There was once on a time a King who had a wife with [auburn] hair, and she was so beautiful that her equal was not to be found on earth. It came to pass that she lay ill, and as she felt that she must soon die, she called the King and said, “If thou wishest to marry again after my death, take no one who is not quite as beautiful as I am, and who has not just such [auburn] hair as I have: this thou must promise me.” And after the King had promised her this she closed her eyes and died.    For a long time the King could not be comforted, and had no thought of taking another wife.    At length his councillors said, “There is no help for it, the King must marry again, that we may have a Queen.” And now messengers were sent about far and wide, to seek a bride who equalled the late Queen in beauty. In the whole world, however, none was to be found, and even if one had been found, still there would have been no one who had such [auburn] hair. So the messengers came home as they went.    Now the King had a daughter, who was just as beautiful as her dead mother, and had the same [auburn] hair. When she was grown up the King looked at her one day, and saw that in every respect she was like his late wife, and suddenly felt a violent love for her. Then he spake to his councillors, “I will marry my daughter, for she is the counterpart of my late wife, otherwise I can find no bride who resembles her.”    When the councillors heard that, they were shocked, and said, “God has forbidden a father to marry his daughter, no good can come from such a crime, and the kingdom will be involved in the ruin.”    The daughter was still more shocked when she became aware of her father’s resolution, but hoped to turn him from his design. Then she said to him, “Before I fulfil your wish, I must have three dresses, one as golden as the sun, one as silvery as the moon, and one as bright as the stars; besides this, I wish for a mantle of a thousand different kinds of fur and hair joined together, and one of every kind of animal in your kingdom must give a piece of his skin for it.” But she thought, “To get that will be quite impossible, and thus I shall divert my father from his wicked intentions.”    The King, however, did not give it up, and the cleverest maidens in his kingdom had to weave the three dresses, one as golden as the sun, one as silvery as the moon, and one as bright as the stars, and his huntsmen had to catch one of every kind of animal in the whole of his kingdom, and take from it a piece of its skin, and out of these was made a mantle of a thousand different kinds of fur. At length, when all was ready, the King caused the mantle to be brought, spread it out before her, and said, “The wedding shall be to-morrow.” .    When, therefore, the King’s daughter saw that there was no longer any hope of turning her father’s heart, she resolved to run away from him. [...]” - Allerleirauh by Jacob Grimm and Wilhelm Grimm from Wikisource, edited with auburn instead of golden hair.

Allerleirauh eventually ends up a servant in another kingdom’s castle while dressed in her many furs, but when there is ball, she dresses in her beautiful dresses and dances with the king, who falls in love with her. Eventually, he figures out her identity and...

[...]The King clutched the furs and tore them off. Then her [auburn] hair shone forth, and she stood there in full splendour, and could no longer hide herself. And when she had washed the soot and ashes from her face, she was more beautiful than anyone who had ever been seen on earth. But the King said, “Thou art my dear bride, and we will never more part from each other.” Thereupon the marriage was solemnized, and they lived happily until their death.

I wonder if that’s what’ll happen when Alayne is revealed as Sansa?

[jw-waterhouse]

The Lady of Shalott (1888), by J.W. Waterhouse

Waterhouse made this painting, which later became his most famous, at the age of 39.  Tired of classical subjects, he decided to shift to a subject from English Romantic literature and selected a popular poem from Alfred Tennyson: the cursed Lady of Shalott elects to die by sailing to Camelot (see below for the entire poem).

The painting was immediately associated with the Pre-Raphaelite Brotherhood, which just entered into a revival.  At the same time, it is full of symbolism, like the expiring candles and the two swallows on the left side. With their reappearance each spring, they represent resurrection.

The Lady of Shalott

Part I

On either side the river lie

Long fields of barley and of rye,

That clothe the wold and meet the sky;

And through the field the road runs by

    To many-towered Camelot;

And up and down the people go,

Gazing where the lilies blow

Round an island there below,

    The island of Shalott.

 Willows whiten, aspens quiver,

Little breezes dusk and shiver

Through the wave that runs for ever

By the island in the river

    Flowing down to Camelot.

Four grey walls, and four grey towers,

Overlook a space of flowers,

And the silent isle imbowers

    The Lady of Shalott.

 By the margin, willow-veiled,

Slide the heavy barges trailed

By slow horses; and unhailed

The shallop flitteth silken-sailed

    Skimming down to Camelot:

But who hath seen her wave her hand?

Or at the casement seen her stand?

Or is she known in all the land,

    The Lady of Shalott?

 Only reapers, reaping early

In among the bearded barley,

Hear a song that echoes cheerly

From the river winding clearly,

    Down to towered Camelot:

And by the moon the reaper weary,

Piling sheaves in uplands airy,

Listening, whispers "'Tis the fairy

    Lady of Shalott."

 Part II

There she weaves by night and day

A magic web with colours gay.

She has heard a whisper say,

A curse is on her if she stay

    To look down to Camelot.

She knows not what the curse may be,

And so she weaveth steadily,

And little other care hath she,

    The Lady of Shalott.

 And moving through a mirror clear

That hangs before her all the year,

Shadows of the world appear.

There she sees the highway near

    Winding down to Camelot:

There the river eddy whirls,

And there the surly village-churls,

And the red cloaks of market girls,

    Pass onward from Shalott.

 Sometimes a troop of damsels glad,

An abbot on an ambling pad,

Sometimes a curly shepherd-lad,

Or long-haired page in crimson clad,

    Goes by to towered Camelot;

And sometimes through the mirror blue

The knights come riding two and two:

She hath no loyal knight and true,

    The Lady of Shalott.

 But in her web she still delights

To weave the mirror's magic sights,

For often through the silent nights

A funeral, with plumes and lights

    And music, went to Camelot:

Or when the moon was overhead,

Came two young lovers lately wed;

"I am half sick of shadows," said

    The Lady of Shalott.

 Part III

A bow-shot from her bower-eaves,

He rode between the barley-sheaves,

The sun came dazzling through the leaves,

And flamed upon the brazen greaves

    Of bold Sir Lancelot.

A red-cross knight for ever kneeled

To a lady in his shield,

That sparkled on the yellow field,

    Beside remote Shalott.

 The gemmy bridle glittered free,

Like to some branch of stars we see

Hung in the golden Galaxy.

The bridle bells rang merrily

    As he rode down to Camelot:

And from his blazoned baldric slung

A mighty silver bugle hung,

And as he rode his armour rung,

    Beside remote Shalott.

 All in the blue unclouded weather

Thick-jewelled shone the saddle-leather,

The helmet and the helmet-feather

Burned like one burning flame together,

    As he rode down to Camelot.

As often through the purple night,

Below the starry clusters bright,

Some bearded meteor, trailing light,

    Moves over still Shalott.

 His broad clear brow in sunlight glowed;

On burnished hooves his war-horse trode;

From underneath his helmet flowed

His coal-black curls as on he rode,

    As he rode down to Camelot.

From the bank and from the river

He flashed into the crystal mirror,

"Tirra lirra," by the river

    Sang Sir Lancelot.

 She left the web, she left the loom,

She made three paces through the room,

She saw the water-lily bloom,

She saw the helmet and the plume,

    She looked down to Camelot.

Out flew the web and floated wide;

The mirror cracked from side to side;

"The curse is come upon me," cried

    The Lady of Shalott.

 Part IV

In the stormy east-wind straining,

The pale yellow woods were waning,

The broad stream in his banks complaining,

Heavily the low sky raining

    Over towered Camelot;

Down she came and found a boat

Beneath a willow left afloat,

And round about the prow she wrote

    The Lady of Shalott.

 And down the river's dim expanse,

Like some bold seër in a trance

Seeing all his own mischance--

With a glassy countenance

    Did she look to Camelot.

And at the closing of the day

She loosed the chain, and down she lay;

The broad stream bore her far away,

    The Lady of Shalott.

 Lying, robed in snowy white

That loosely flew to left and right--

The leaves upon her falling light--

Through the noises of the night

    She floated down to Camelot:

And as the boat-head wound along

The willowy hills and fields among,

They heard her singing her last song,

    The Lady of Shalott.

 Heard a carol, mournful, holy,

Chanted loudly, chanted lowly,

Till her blood was frozen slowly,

And her eyes were darkened wholly,

    Turned to towered Camelot.

For ere she reached upon the tide

The first house by the water-side,

Singing in her song she died,

    The Lady of Shalott.

 Under tower and balcony,

By garden-wall and gallery,

A gleaming shape she floated by,

Dead-pale between the houses high,

    Silent into Camelot.

Out upon the wharfs they came,

Knight and burgher, lord and dame,

And round the prow they read her name,

    The Lady of Shalott.

 Who is this? and what is here?

And in the lighted palace near

Died the sound of royal cheer;

And they crossed themselves for fear,

    All the knights at Camelot:

But Lancelot mused a little space;

He said, "She has a lovely face;

God in his mercy lend her grace,

    The Lady of Shalott."

[theredpelican]

send me your fave poems.

i’m looking for new poetry. here are some of my favorites:

- every day you play, pablo neruda / while the sad wind goes slaughtering butterflies / I love you, and my happiness bites the plum of your mouth - la vierge folle, arthur rimbaud / tu verras, je hurlerai dans les rues / je veux devenir bien fou de rage - cors de chasse, guillaume apollinaire / passons passons puisque tout passe / je me retournerai souvent - the wanderer / often alone, every first light of dawn, I have had to speak my sorrows / there is no one living to whom I would dare to reveal clearly my deepest thoughts - red riding hood, anne sexton / the bed was stale with my childhood / and I could not move to another city / where the worthy make a new life  - the lady of shalott, lord tennyson / 'I am half sick of shadows,' said / the lady of shalott - howl, allen ginsberg / with dreams, with drugs, with waking nightmares / alcohol and cock and endless balls  - the jailer, sylvia plath / what would the dark / do without fevers to eat?

[hysydney]

Half sick of shadows …

I’ve always wanted to draw an analogy between an episode of MFMM and Tennyson’s The Lady of Shalott, the tale of a woman imprisoned in a tower on the Island of Shalott, cursed to remain inside to weave tapestries of the life she cannot be part of, and cannot even look directly upon*. 

(*Yes I know I’ve not only ended a clause but a full sentence with a preposition. This is something up with which you will have to put.)

W M Egley, The Lady of Shalott, (1858), City of Sheffield Galleries

The poem came to mind in finding a thread among the themes and tones of Death by Miss Adventure. This post complements one from a long time ago looking at the colour palette, so for those in need of a cure for insomnia, it’s here. Egley’s famous depiction is also reminiscent of the tones and colours of the episode.

This episode is about Mac.  Her personal and professional worlds collide, as her competence is questioned because of bias and intolerance. It is an episode of secrets hidden away then emerging and confronting. And it’s not only Mac held captive, metaphorically, in towers of dark anguish. 

In the poem, the Lady of Shalott lives in shadowy isolation, the grey of her imprisonment contrasts the implied colour of the world outside:

Four gray walls, and four gray towers Overlook a space of flowers, And the silent isle imbowers      The Lady of Shalott. 

Mac’s feelings are imprisoned as she calls in her friend to investigate a suspicious death in a factory where Mac provides some legitimate, and some illicit care to the factory owner and workers. 

The opening scene hints at imbalance:

Mr B:  Apologies, Miss, but Doctor MacMillan is here.

Phryne: It's a bit early for a house call.

Mr B: She doesn't seem herself, Miss.

Phryne: Mr Butler! Forget the big breakfast. This calls for a pot of strong coffee, and Mac will need a... stiff drink. 

Go on, take your medicine. Let me be the doctor for a change.

Whilst Phryne takes charge, she is ignorant of the true reason for Mac’s need for a fortifying whiskey.

The Lady of Shalott preserves her safety by staying within the confines of her tower and not participating in society’s activities.  This provides a metaphor for  Victorian concepts of the woman’s role, expected to be the protector of the home, where she embodies the pure, the mysterious, the unthreatening, the proper:

No time hath she to sport and play:  A charmed web she weaves alway. 

Mac doesn’t fit with society’s expectations of a woman’s role, so preserves her safety by imprisoning her feelings, locking them away, even from her closest friend.

Mac: Her name was Daisy Miller. 

Phryne: Did you know this girl?

Mac’s response avoids a direct answer to the identity of ‘this girl’:

Mac: I attended when they rang the emergency bell.

Tennyson’s poem found popularity with morality-obsessed Pre-Raphaelite painters like Waterhouse, Hunt and Rossetti, whose depictions illustrate the tension for women, seen as the saviours of the domestic realm, between their private desires and the reality of their social responsibilities.  The Lady of Shalott abandons her social responsibility in pursuit of love, and perishes for her impropriety. 

Hunt (below) portrays the consequences of turning away from duty and yielding to the temptations of the world rather than being removed from its material realities.

She left the web, she left the loom She made three paces thro' the room She saw the water-flower bloom, She saw the helmet and the plume,         She look'd down to Camelot. 

W H Hunt, The Lady of Shalott, (1842), Manchester Art Gallery

Aunt P voices the views of her class and of society more broadly in terms of tolerance of difference or the lack of it.  Both she and Roger Gaskin, the factory owner and later victim, are members of the board at the hospital where Mac is a physician. Roger Gaskin bought his way into acceptability and this is considered of greater significance than supporting women in need of clinical care and contraceptive guidance.  She has no qualms about threatening Phryne’s continued involvement in the murder case, a warning  which has renewed significance when Gaskin becomes victim number two:

Aunt P: Do you have any notion just how much money Roderick Gaskin has donated to the hospital? 

Phryne: He didn't strike me as a particularly charitable type. 

Aunt P: My dear, when a member of the manufacturing classes attempts to buy respectability, who am I to say him nay? ... You'd best warn the doctor that... that this is not the first time a complaint has been made.

The board has been made aware of the doctor's more... unconventional activities. What she does behind closed doors is a matter entirely between herself and her maker. But Mr Gaskin has heard rumours that she has been giving un-Christian advice to some of the girls at the factory, and he will be reporting this to the board if you continue your absurd crusade. 

Mac provides a medical clinic for the female workers at the factory but also established a relationship with Daisy, the first victim, something she is unable to reveal to Phryne.  Phryne must detect this herself.  Realising her ignorance of her friend’s feelings is as hard for Phryne as it is for Mac to admit.

Phryne: You loved her. And you suffered in silence while I showed you those photographs of the blood on the machine.

Mac: What could I have said? ... I went to Daisy's funeral service. Her mother came and thanked me for being such a good doctor. I was so much more to her than that.

Mac was invisible to Daisy’s family as anything other than her doctor.  The lady of Shalott too is an invisible figure.  Not only is she imprisoned and isolated on an island, separated from Camelot where she is heard but not seen, but she is not described physically, nor even given a name.

Underneath the bearded barley, The reaper, reaping late and early, Hears her ever chanting cheerly, Like an angel, singing clearly,       O'er the stream of Camelot.

Even prior to Phryne’s realisation of Mac’s involvement with Daisy, Phryne has  an altercation with Jack as Mac becomes a suspect in Gaskin’s murder.  She has to defend Mac’s character:

Jack: We know Gaskin threatened to make her life difficult with the hospital board. 

Phryne: That's hardly enough for her to kill him. It's true that Gaskin disapproved of Mac's attitude, but so does half the world, the wrong half, if you ask me. And Mac's used to sailing close to the wind.

And speaking of Jack and Phryne...

Phryne too is hiding demons, imprisoned by the guilt of Janey’s unsolved disappearance.  Murdoch Foyle, Phryne’s nemesis, has contacted her from his prison cell, seeking a bargain, the truth about Janey in exchange for his freedom. 

Despite the personal anguish she feels in receiving Foyle’s letter, she masks her feelings when confronting Jack back at the factory.  

Jack: I see the threat of a trespass charge hasn't discouraged you. 

Phryne: If I were easily discouraged, you would have frightened me off on our first crime scene. 

Jack: OUR first crime scene? Correct me if I'm wrong, but you agreed to leave this one to the police. 

Phryne: You're never wrong, Inspector. Just a little behind the times. Roderick Gaskin won't be pursuing this complaint. 

Jack:  If you're good, I'll keep you informed. 

Phryne: Give my regards to the tea lady. 

She does, however, confide in Mac,  This is a poignant exchange given Mac is not prepared to share her own source of distress. Here Phryne abandons her customary logic for pathos, as Mac, despite her own tragedy, provides unequivocal advice:

Phryne: He wants me to visit him at the jail. 

Mac: Tell me you're not going. 

Phryne: Perhaps he wants to tell the truth about what happened to Janey. 

Mac: Or perhaps he's just toying with you. The man is evil. You've made sure he's locked up. Now just forget he ever existed. Stay away from him, Phryne.

The Lady of Shalott appears to accept her lot, her imprisonment, her need to weave the world she cannot directly see:

She knows not what the curse may be; Therefore she weaveth steadily, Therefore no other care hath she,       The Lady of Shalott....

and further

But in her web she still delights To weave the mirror's magic sights...

Phryne too rarely provides signs of the ever-present wretchedness she endures at the loss of Janey. But there are moments, just like in the poem, when the lady admits her frustration with her circumstances:

'I am half sick of shadows,' said     The Lady of Shalott.

The lines are reminiscent of Phryne’s words to Jack in a later episode, when she asks Jack to Guy and Isabelle’s engagement party, Foyle’s shadow ever-present:

Your invitation. To Guy and Isabella's party. As my partner ... You still have a murder case to solve and what better way to gather information than to mingle with the crowd? Besides, I need you to remind me not to be afraid of shadows. 

Phryne, against Mac’s advice, visits Foyle.  More imprisonment imagery as both seek release.

The nature of the Lady of Shalott’s curse is not explained, but to stop weaving, to look outside, would set the curse in motion. She becomes increasingly aware of the life that flourishes outside, reflected in the mirror:

Sometimes a troop of damsels glad, An abbot on an ambling pad, Sometimes a curly shepherd lad, Or long-hair'd page* in crimson clad,       Goes by to tower'd Camelot: 

* !!

Then one day she is struck by the reflected image of the handsome Sir Lancelot riding by en route to Camelot.  

His broad clear brow in sunlight glow'd; On burnish'd hooves his war-horse trode; From underneath his helmet flow'd His coal-black curls as on he rode,       As he rode down from Camelot. 

She goes to the window, a glance at Lance, and the curse is fulfilled.   She has moved from slavery and imprisonment to freedom, but the transformation is also her death.

She leaves her tower and floats in a shallow boat to a watery grave, the knight left to muse over the beauty of the unknown creature. 

G E Robertson, The Lady of Shalott, (1864), private collection, Michigan

Now I’m not suggesting any such tragic analogy to this MFMM episode. But Phryne is no longer hiding the reality of her circumstances from Lancelot Jack, and in their fireside heart to heart (as it were), Jack won’t advise, but insists that she has it within her to break Foyle’s curse.

Jack: I hope you're not asking for my help. 

Phryne: But I am. Tell me not to place myself above the law. Not to let a killer loose because I want the truth. Tell me there's a greater good than my own need to know. 

Jack: You never listen to me, anyway. 

Phryne: Humour me. 

Jack: You know what to do.

[kbrown78]

My Thoughts: A Great and Terrible Beauty by Libba Bray

I've read Beauty Queens by Libba Bray and I enjoyed it, and she seems to write on subjects that I'm always looking for more narratives on. Last year I started hearing more about how amazing this series was and I finally caved and bought the whole trilogy. I got around to reading this first book, and was pleased with it. There were a few issues that I had with it, but I was willing to forgive most the these issues because I felt that it fit the characters. I also haven't read that much literature that takes place during Victorian London, and I think this book did a fantastic good at lamp shading the problems in society at that time.

World building: In the beginning there's brief description of the streets and India, and even though they are crowded like the streets in London, there is a distinct difference. In India there's almost a sense of joy and color versus in London everything is gray and gloomy. In fact that's how most of the Victorian London is portrayed in this book, but Spence Academy has this almost ancient, gothic feel, like it's timeless. I didn't, however, love the school in itself because there wasn't anything magical that was directly tied into the school, but that's just me. Obviously my favorite location in this story is going to be the Realms and I liked that it's understood that what the readers see isn't all there is. The Realms existing also produced secret groups in the real world, like the Order and the Rakshana, and I always love secret societies involved in parallel worlds. The Realms have a sort of dream like quality to them because they can make one's greatest wishes come true as well as their worst nightmare. So it's this in between world that exists but has it's limits and rules, that are in place for a good reason, like the runes exist to contain and protect the magic. I would also like to point out real quick something small that I enjoy seeing in books, and that's when a food/drink/ place smells unique to each person, and for the girls the Realms scent brings back good childhood memories.

Characters: The four main girls were interesting, because they aren't always likeable. They do stupid things, they do selfish things, but this makes them a touch more realistic because they act how a normal teenager would act. Gemma is the fiery, mysterious one. She's also sort of the “chosen one” because she has the special abilities that lets the others into the Realms. I also thought it was interesting that she grew up India, but that isn't an important part of the story or her character and I wish that was used more. Ann is very meek and almost too pure for this world, except for the fact that she can also be very gloomy. Felicity is the gorgeous mean girl that comes from a privileged background. Her family isn't as perfect as it seems, so this causes her to be rebellious and have a desperate thirst for freedom. Pippa is a hopeless romantic that follows Felicity's lead. Like Felicity, her life is completely controlled by her parents and longs for freedom. All of these girls felt realistic, but I didn't love any of them because of how annoying and petty they could be at times. The side characters aren't as well fleshed out, and feel a bit more like archetypes. Gemma's mother is the spirit guide, Kartik is the love interest, Brigid is the simple maid, Cecily is the fill in mean girl, and Miss Moore is the only nice teacher (which made me think that she was Circe).

Relationships: Again, because the girls feel like actual teenagers, their friendships feel realistic. The girls fight and they disagree and come from completely different backgrounds, but also have a lot in common. Above all, these girls have a desire to choose their life and all desperately want something, so they can sympathize with each other. The girls do say insensitive things to each other (mostly coming from Pippa, who's a bit of an airhead) and there can be a lack of communication (especially from Gemma and Felicity) which pushes a deep wedge between them. Again this felt like a realistic friendship with it's faults, but these girls can be so petty and their miscommunication struggles makes it not a friend group I like. It was pretty obvious from the beginning that Kartik is going to be a love interest of the series, but I honestly prefer Kartik and Gemma just having a platonic relationship. There is this sort of banter where Kartik thinks he knows best and tries to control what Gemma does, but Gemma being Gemma doesn't let that stop her. It's hard to tell if there are romantic feelings from Kartik, but about half way through the book she starts being jealous of Pippa because of Kartik and starts dreaming about Kartik, and honestly I didn't care for that part of the story at all. The end scene was cute though, with them playing cricket together. Gemma and her mother also have an important relationship, because the story starts with Gemma's mother being murdered, and Gemma's greatest wish is to have her mother back with her. When Gemma sees her mother in the Realms, her mother tries her best to guide Gemma, but it's also revealed that Gemma's mother was Mary and lied to Gemma her entire life. So both parties make bad choices, but Gemma learns that the image she had of her mother as this flawless human was an illusion and she needs to move past that and let her mother move on, just as Gemma's mother is trying to help fix the mistakes of the past. Miss Moore is kind of similar to Gemma's mother because she tries to push the girls to think beyond outside of the box and introduces them to the Order, and also doesn't tolerate any mean girl bullshit. However, due to the fact that she was the only nice teacher that sees through everything made me think that she was Circe (which turns out to be true).  Interestingly all the girls living family members treat them like crap, which makes the girls feel even more lonely and not in control, which also serves to push them together even more.    

Writing: I think the strongest part of this book is all the symbolism and underlying themes. Beauty Queens proved that Bray can do satire well, and while A Great and Terrible Beauty wasn't nearly as satirical as Beauty Queens it still seemed to be trying to convey the same messages. In Victorian London, the girls feel beneath everything just because they're girls. That they are objects to be looked at, then sold off in marriage But then they learn about the Order, a group of just women that can control magic and illusions. This sounds like the prefect solution for the girls, but once they get the magic and starts using it in the real world, there are negative consequences. So the narrative is almost saying that power doesn't necessarily come from “in your face” magic, but from more subtle acts. I really loved the emphasis on women in mythology, and in more primitive times showing that women can have power over themselves and their worlds, because I love any narrative that discusses women in mythology (and not just Persephone, even though I love her).  The art scenes were also really interesting to because it's through art that the girls learned about everything I previously mentioned, but also in the paintings and poems talked about throughout the story. The Lady of Shalott worked really well because it shows that people can interpret the same thing differently, but also that the ending is a matter of choice, and that there are no safe choices. Gemma's painting of an apple, which she dubs The Choice, is a nod to the story of Eve, and she acknowledges that her painting looks better when light and dark coexist on the surface. To be honest, this book is so quotable because of how many great messages are delivered in one line. One last thing I would like to talk about deals with two of the girls, Ann and Pippa. Pippa has epilepsy, which I think is good that this was added into her character, but society views it as a flaw that must be hidden so that she can get a rich husband. For Ann, I got the impression that she cuts herself, and I could be wrong, but she seems to think that making herself feel pain is better than nothing. It's a dangerous topic to bring up, but I think the narrative acknowledges that this is ultimately wrong.  

Dislike: I did dislike how naive the girls were and that in the second half of the book, there was so much miscommunication that caused all the problems in the climax. I was willing to forgive this because I felt the girls needed to make those mistakes then grow beyond them (which they don't in the second book). I also didn't like in the beginning that all the mean girls are described as the most beautiful girls in the school, just because I'm sick of seeing the pretty, popular girls being equated to a mean girl, especially when they don't have a reason to be mean.

Final Thoughts: I did really like this book, I gave it four stars and I still think that stands, but having now read the second book I wish the story had been wrapped up in this one book, so that I could still have that amazed feeling about this story and these characters overall.

[lowrider-dreams]

Shalott

Rating: T (for mentions of death)

Once, there was a castle that remained isolated by the water. Within it lived a lone princess, whose beauty would never see the light of day. Known for her beautiful tapestries, she was simply known as Orihime. Orihime had been in these towers for as long as she could remember. Week after after week, day by day, hour upon hour. The time she had spent endlessly weaving was infinite.

Because of the curse, she would never have the life she dreamed of. Or so she’d been told. She was never able to find out what the curse necessarily was.

And so, she did as she was told, spending her days weaving, weaving; taking in everything she saw in the large mirror. It had been carefully placed to reflect her window. A daily reminder of the life that hadn’t been allowed to her.

She weaved everything that she could observe. The animals, the flowers, the river. Sometimes, if by chance they appeared, she would weave the people that passed by, be it the lovers, the farmers, the shepherds, and the bards. Once in a while, she’d even spot the occasional knight gallantly prancing in their horse.

If she wanted to be frank, she was half-sick of shadows.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It was one such rare occasion when he showed up. A knight with the regalia of Karakura, the neighboring kingdom. At the sight of him, she was immediately bewitched. Her mind was clouded only with him, the curious man with the scowl and orange hair. Her hands and eyes had forgotten their tasks as she stopped weaving and looked toward the window to get a better look. Orihime watched as he trudged through the heavy mud with his steed. She could see the same shadows within his eyes. There was a thorn in his heart, she’d realized. She suddenly wanted to know more about him.

‘If only I could be the rain.’  

The spell was cut short when a loud crack filled the room. The mirror had shattered. She felt the sensation of a hundred needles pricking her heart, and she instantly knew. “The curse is upon me,” she sobbed, as a single tear trailed toward her chin.

How funny that the first and only man she would ever love, would also be her demise.

She wiped at her face and shook the thought away. Even if she was to die, she was thankful. The price she had to pay was small in exchange for the warmth he had brought to her. There was no time to waste. She was determined to see him once more, before it was too late.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

With all the strength she could muster, Orihime fled down the long spiral of stairs. Who knew how much time she had left? As soon as she was outside she realized there was no way of leaving the lake to reach the land. She had never learned to swim. ‘He must be far ahead by now.’

She ran again, to find something. Anything.

In the corner of her eye was a small boat.

She unchained it and hopped in, rowing further and further. The river itself lead to the kingdom of Karakura, so she rowed in the direction the water went. It was the quickest way she would be able to reach.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The sight of her castle was long gone. She wasn’t sure how long she had been floating. She had underestimated the time she had left, it seemed, as she could feel her body growing colder and heavier. She lied down and began to sing. It was a song that she heard once or twice in her dreams. Memories of the halcyon days. A vague image of Sora-nii crossed her mind’s eye. “I think of you, all alone…” She could only hope that at least, her voice would reach a piece of that man’s heart. “That song? What is it you sing?” Orihime gasped, lifting her head to look for the source of the voice. Two identical women sat on the edge of the boat, their hands neatly tucked into their laps with intrigued expressions on their faces. They were probably the most beautiful women she had ever encountered. “P-pardon?” The one on the left, who carried a gentle demeanor, smiled sweetly. “Oh my, did we frighten you? I apologize, we were just too captivated with your song, wouldn’t you say so Rukia-chan?” 

The one called Rukia, who despite carrying the similarly elegant air as her look-alike, seemed to be a little rougher around the edges. She smiled sheepishly. “Yeah, sorry for startling you. It’s not very often you see or hear anything exciting all that often around here.” Orihime blinked, not sure what to make of the situation. Was she so close to death that she was now delirious?

As if having read her mind, the gentle one shook her head.

“You must be wondering who we are, my apologies once again. My name is Hisana and this is my younger sister, Rukia. We are the daughters of the lake.”

Daughters of the lake? Orihime was sure she was delirious. How else could she be meeting with the daughters of the lake? Despite having been locked in the tower for so long, even someone like her knew who they were. They were legendary sorceresses. Not wanting to risk their wrath just in case, however, she decided to go along.

Willing herself into a kneeling position, she bowed.

“Your honors, I apologize for intruding. My name is Orihime.”

Rukia blushed in embarrassment. Clearly she was not used to being shown any sort of reverence.

“What are you bowing for silly? There’s no-,” she paused mid sentence, her eyes widening in shock. She grabbed Orihime’s face; turning it this way and that with such force that it made her dizzy.

She sweated nervously, and before she could ask, Rukia answered.

“You’re cursed,” she announced, squishing her cheeks with her palms.

“Um, yes.”

“I see. So you came here to die,” she stated matter of factly, looking her in the eye and then thumbing her wrists to check her pressure. 

Hisana eyed Orihime with a pitying look.

“And from the feel of it, this is Cirucci’s work,” Rukia added, “What a witch!”

Orihime was impressed. She could tell all that just from studying her?

“Rukia, language,” Hisana scolded, but then continued to ask, “Is there still something we can do?”

Rukia dropped Orihime. “Yes, but we need to hurry. I’ll be back.”

Hisana nodded, and Rukia quickly disappeared.

“What’s going on,” Orihime asked.

Hisana sighed. “It’s alright dear, don’t exert yourself. We’ll explain everything.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Rukia returned a minute later, with a small jar of four, bright red feathers.

She took one out and handed it to Orihime and instructed her to consume it. She did as she was told. The feel of the feather down her throat was uncomfortable, but she felt as if a weight had been lifted.

“Good girl,” Rukia smiled as she pat her head. She placed the jar into the pocket of Orihime’s dress. “Keep this. You should be feeling much better now.”

“Unfortunately, this is only the treatment. They will each last you a week at most,” Hisana spoke, “The curse is far beyond our ability to break. Fortunately, we know someone that is much more capable than us.”

“Thank you very much,” Orihime spoke. She didn’t mind if she wasn’t able to live. As long as she got to see him again, and thank him, it would be enough. “I don’t know how to repay you.”

They shared a look.

“There’s no need, you have already gifted us your song. We are only returning the favor. Now tell us, what is the name of the man on your mind?”

Orihime blushed.

“How did you know?”

They eyed her knowingly.

“W-well, you might have seen him? He’s a knight. His hair is orange and he has a funny scowl. And the shadows… A-anyway, he passed by my tower and I wanted to thank him.”

Hisana giggled. Rukia quirked her brow. Was there something she knew?

“Well, it looks like we have overstayed our welcome, so we’ll be taking our leave. Once you reach Karakura, look for Urahara. Tell him that we sent you. Oh, and Orihime?”

“Yes?”

“Sorry for what we’re about to do.”

The boat disappeared along with the sisters, and Orihime slipped into the water. She panicked, kicking her legs around to help keep her afloat.

“H-help! I can’t swim! Rukia-san! Hisana-san!”

She accidentally swallowed the water and choked, causing her descend downward. Struggling to reach for air, she failed to hear the splash from above. Suddenly, a pair of arms pushed her upward and onto the land.

Feeling her conciousness fade, she forced herself to look at her savior. A set of warm brown eyes and orange hair greeted her vision.

“Are you alright?”

Everything was black.

A/N: This is an IH AU I wrote based on the poem “The Lady of Shalott” with a twist (let’s just say the original story does not have a happy ending). The song I had in mind that Orihime sings is ‘Lost in Thoughts All Alone’ from Fire Emblem Fates. The feathers are a sort of homage to the phoenix feathers in Final Fantasy. I have no clue whether I will ever continue this, so for now I’ll leave it as a one-shot.

[wigmund]

From Wikipedia Picture of the Day; May 7, 2018:

I am Half-Sick of Shadows, said the Lady of Shalott is an oil painting on canvas completed by John William Waterhouse in 1916. One of three works inspired by Lord Tennyson's poem "The Lady of Shalott", it depicts the ballad's titular character as she stops weaving, shortly before looking directly upon the world outside her window for the first time. The painting is now held at the Art Gallery of Ontario in Toronto.

Painting: John William Waterhouse

[laprimevere]

The Lady of Shalott. John William Waterhouse, 1894. Oil on canvas.

The second of three paintings by J. W. Waterhouse that were inspired by Tennyson’s poem “The Lady of Shalott” (1833 / 1842). 

Interestingly, while the first painting from 1888 features a red-haired model, the other two versions (1894 & 1910) show a dark-haired woman, possibly even the same model, despite the fact that there is a 16-year gap between the second and third painting. Also, the two later paintings have a similar setting, with the lady inside her room and sitting (or standing up from) in front of her loom and mirror, while the first one shows her outside on her way to Camelot. It seems as if Waterhouse worked his way backwards through the poem: he starts with the lady’s journey to Camelot, then paints her on her way outside with the cracked mirror in the background and finally shows her right before she makes her fatal decision to leave, with the mirror still intact but her weaving already interrupted (”I am half-sick of shadows...”). 

[ruinsoftime4]

From Tower’ poems

     The Lady of Shalott (1842)             

Part I On either side the river lie Long fields of barley and of rye, That clothe the wold and meet the sky; And thro' the field the road runs by       To many-tower'd Camelot; And up and down the people go, Gazing where the lilies blow Round an island there below,       The island of Shalott. Willows whiten, aspens quiver, Little breezes dusk and shiver Thro' the wave that runs for ever By the island in the river       Flowing down to Camelot. Four gray walls, and four gray towers, Overlook a space of flowers, And the silent isle imbowers       The Lady of Shalott. By the margin, willow veil'd, Slide the heavy barges trail'd By slow horses; and unhail'd The shallop flitteth silken-sail'd       Skimming down to Camelot: But who hath seen her wave her hand? Or at the casement seen her stand? Or is she known in all the land,       The Lady of Shalott? Only reapers, reaping early In among the bearded barley, Hear a song that echoes cheerly From the river winding clearly,       Down to tower'd Camelot: And by the moon the reaper weary, Piling sheaves in uplands airy, Listening, whispers " 'Tis the fairy       Lady of Shalott." Part II There she weaves by night and day A magic web with colours gay. She has heard a whisper say, A curse is on her if she stay       To look down to Camelot. She knows not what the curse may be, And so she weaveth steadily, And little other care hath she,       The Lady of Shalott. And moving thro' a mirror clear That hangs before her all the year, Shadows of the world appear. There she sees the highway near       Winding down to Camelot: There the river eddy whirls, And there the surly village-churls, And the red cloaks of market girls,       Pass onward from Shalott. Sometimes a troop of damsels glad, An abbot on an ambling pad, Sometimes a curly shepherd-lad, Or long-hair'd page in crimson clad,       Goes by to tower'd Camelot; And sometimes thro' the mirror blue The knights come riding two and two: She hath no loyal knight and true,       The Lady of Shalott. But in her web she still delights To weave the mirror's magic sights, For often thro' the silent nights A funeral, with plumes and lights       And music, went to Camelot: Or when the moon was overhead, Came two young lovers lately wed: "I am half sick of shadows," said       The Lady of Shalott. Part III A bow-shot from her bower-eaves, He rode between the barley-sheaves, The sun came dazzling thro' the leaves, And flamed upon the brazen greaves       Of bold Sir Lancelot. A red-cross knight for ever kneel'd To a lady in his shield, That sparkled on the yellow field,       Beside remote Shalott. The gemmy bridle glitter'd free, Like to some branch of stars we see Hung in the golden Galaxy. The bridle bells rang merrily       As he rode down to Camelot: And from his blazon'd baldric slung A mighty silver bugle hung, And as he rode his armour rung,       Beside remote Shalott. All in the blue unclouded weather Thick-jewell'd shone the saddle-leather, The helmet and the helmet-feather Burn'd like one burning flame together,       As he rode down to Camelot. As often thro' the purple night, Below the starry clusters bright, Some bearded meteor, trailing light,       Moves over still Shalott. His broad clear brow in sunlight glow'd; On burnish'd hooves his war-horse trode; From underneath his helmet flow'd His coal-black curls as on he rode,       As he rode down to Camelot. From the bank and from the river He flash'd into the crystal mirror, "Tirra lirra," by the river       Sang Sir Lancelot. She left the web, she left the loom, She made three paces thro' the room, She saw the water-lily bloom, She saw the helmet and the plume,       She look'd down to Camelot. Out flew the web and floated wide; The mirror crack'd from side to side; "The curse is come upon me," cried       The Lady of Shalott. Part IV In the stormy east-wind straining, The pale yellow woods were waning, The broad stream in his banks complaining, Heavily the low sky raining       Over tower'd Camelot; Down she came and found a boat Beneath a willow left afloat, And round about the prow she wrote       The Lady of Shalott. And down the river's dim expanse Like some bold seër in a trance, Seeing all his own mischance— With a glassy countenance       Did she look to Camelot. And at the closing of the day She loosed the chain, and down she lay; The broad stream bore her far away,       The Lady of Shalott. Lying, robed in snowy white That loosely flew to left and right— The leaves upon her falling light— Thro' the noises of the night       She floated down to Camelot: And as the boat-head wound along The willowy hills and fields among, They heard her singing her last song,       The Lady of Shalott. Heard a carol, mournful, holy, Chanted loudly, chanted lowly, Till her blood was frozen slowly, And her eyes were darken'd wholly,       Turn'd to tower'd Camelot. For ere she reach'd upon the tide The first house by the water-side, Singing in her song she died,       The Lady of Shalott. Under tower and balcony, By garden-wall and gallery, A gleaming shape she floated by, Dead-pale between the houses high,       Silent into Camelot. Out upon the wharfs they came, Knight and burgher, lord and dame, And round the prow they read her name,       The Lady of Shalott. Who is this? and what is here? And in the lighted palace near Died the sound of royal cheer; And they cross'd themselves for fear,       All the knights at Camelot: But Lancelot mused a little space; He said, "She has a lovely face; God in his mercy lend her grace,       The Lady of Shalott." **~Alfred Lord Tennyson 1809—1892~