The Irish Times carries the following full-length editorial on page 15 this morning, 24 December 2013, Christmas Eve:
Christmas trees, Christmas cards, mulled wine, the holly and the ivy, mistletoe, Nine Lessons and Carols … the key ingredients that have come to make up a traditional Christmas are largely the invention of Victorians. Many of those elements are so embedded in our culture that we find it difficult, almost heretical, to think of celebrating Christmas without them.
But some of the most challenging Christmas images that remind us of the true meaning at the heart of the Christmas story are works by the Victorian Pre-Raphaelite artist, Sir Edward Burne-Jones. The Star of Bethlehem, which was commissioned in 1887 for the Birmingham Museum and Art Gallery, is a large watercolour showing the arrival of the three kings at the stable in Bethlehem. It is so large that Burne-Jones used a ladder to reach the upper areas as he worked on it, and he complained that the painting was physically tiring: “Up my steps and down, and from right to left. I have journeyed as many miles already as ever the kings travelled”.
When he was asked by a young girl whether he believed in the scene he had depicted in The Star of Bethlehem, Burne-Jones replied: “It is too beautiful not to be true”.
Burne-Jones, like his life-long friend and collaborator William Morris, was deeply influenced by the Christian Socialism associated with Victorian Anglo-Catholicism, and was disturbed by the plight of the working class and the poor in inner cities. In a Latin inscription on another Christmas painting, The Nativity, he summarised his understanding of the Incarnation and Christmas with the words of the Psalmist: “Because the poor are despoiled, because the needy groan, I will now rise up, says the Lord” (Psalm 12: 5).
He believed it was the artist’s role to “paint God for the world”, working with the artist’s “power of bringing God into the world – making God manifest. It is giving back her Child that was crucified to Our Lady of the Sorrows”. For that one prominent Victorian, at least, Christmas was not about sentimentality, but about the values expressed in the Christian virtues, the greatest of which is Love.
The English translation of Saint Paul’s words for these virtues in the King James Version of the Bible uses the word charity instead of love (I Corinthians 13: 13). Although that error, based on a Latin text, was corrected in later translations, it continues to remind English-speakers that love and charity are inseparable.
But if charity and love are so inextricably linked, then it is a betrayal of Christmas values that at this time of year the majority of public charities are suffering a severe fall-off in donations because of the actions of a few charity executives and directors. Ultimately, those who may suffer are not charity directors or employees, but the people the charities were set up to benefit.
A self-serving decade
The traditional bidding prayer for Advent, first written by a Victorian bishop, Edward Benson (later Archbishop of Canterbury), for the first Service of Nine Lessons and Carols on Christmas Eve 1880, prays: “Let us remember, in his name, the poor and helpless, the cold, the hungry, and the oppressed; the sick and them that mourn, the lonely and the unloved, the aged and the little children; all those who know not the Lord Jesus, or who love him not, or who by sin have grieved his heart of love”.
Benson’s words summarise the meaning of Christmas and the meaning of charity. If charities are to recover from the blow they have been dealt in recent weeks, then statutory regulation needs to be introduced speedily. Otherwise, to paraphrase the psalm quoted by Burne-Jones, the poor will remain despoiled, and the needy will continue to groan.
Yet the behaviour of some directors in the charity sector should have been no surprise to any of us. In many ways, this has become the decade of the self-serving, in which self-interest has acquired its own claims. It is a claim that has been validated by “selfie” becoming the word of the year with its inclusion in the Oxford Dictionary, and typified by heads of state indulging in a “selfie” at the funeral of Nelson Mandela.
What is surprising is that this should happen in the year that Pope Francis is being fêted by Time magazine as the Man of the Year. Although he too has posed for “selfies”, he has been singled out for his self-effacing humility and his new emphasis on self-giving, charity and love.
In the year that Ireland exited the bailout, and that the charity sector lost its credibility, it restores hope to imagine this Christmas Eve that the year coming to a close may be remembered for generous and brave personalities such as Nelson Mandela and Seamus Heaney, and as the year a Pope restored the true meaning of the Nativity and the birth at Christmas to the heart of the Christian message.
Tuesday, 24 December 2013
As Advent comes to an end and as we prepare to celebrate Christmas, I have chosen as my last work of Art for Advent this Christmas Eve morning ‘The Nativity’ by Edward Burne-Jones (1833-1898).
This is my second choice of a work by this Pre-Raphaelite artist and is one of a pair of monumental paintings commissioned for the chancel of the Church of Saint John the Apostle in Torquay in 1887.
At the time, Torquay was a prosperous Victorian Devonshire seaside resort. The architect George Edmund Street, who also designed the rebuilding of Christ Church Cathedral, Dublin, was commissioned to design this Gothic Revival church in 1861. However, Street’s plans were revised a number of times over a period of 20 years, and the church was not completed until 1885.
The church was decorated by Morris & Co., the decorative arts firm founded in the 1860s by William Morris and Edward Burne-Jones.
Morris was a protége and former assistant of GE Street. But, while Street and Morris emphasised the rich polychromy of mediaeval art, and patterned ornament on walls, floors and ceilings, Burne-Jones was drawn to the spiritual intensity and symbolic narratives of paintings, sculpture and stained glass.
Burne-Jones designed the glass for the east and west windows in Saint John’s, the most important windows in the church. When the parishioners of Saint John’s commissioned two huge mural paintings from Burne-Jones for the north and south walls of the chancel in 1887 – ‘The Nativity’ and ‘The King and the Shepherd’ – they were closely following the overall decorative programme first sketched by Street in his designs of the 1860s.
Each of these large paintings by Burne-Jones measures 81 x 124 inches. These two paintings for Saint John’s were among his most original and elaborate treatments of the subject, and among his favourites.
Several of his studies for ‘The Nativity’ have survived. A pencil drawing that sold at Sotheby’s in New York last year (2012) places Saint Joseph on the right, while an 1887 pastel sketch in the New Art Gallery, Walsall, shows the final composition but a very different colour palette.
The position of the Virgin Mary and the Christ Child is similar to Burne-Jones’s design in 1879 for a bronze relief of the Nativity. The relief was commissioned by George Howard, 9th Earl of Carlisle, as part of a monument to his parents for Lanercost Priory, Cumbria, and a drawing of this design is in the Fitzwilliam Museum in Cambridge.
Burne-Jones began his work on the two paintings, ‘The Nativity’ and ‘The King and the Shepherd’ with small sketches in pastel, made at his home in Rottingdean, in April 1887.
His two sketches for ‘The Nativity’ indicate that the main motifs of the reclining Virgin Mary and the Christ Child, the three attending angels, and the landscape background were already fixed in his mind. However, the position of Saint Joseph changed from one of anxious attendance on the far right, to a seated, contemplative pose in the centre of the composition. This alteration increased his composition’s resemblance to the nativity scene on the walls of the Arena Chapel, near Padua, by the Italian painter Giotto (1266-1336).
Once the main elements were in place, Burne-Jones then began working on a series of studies of individual figures. Each of these was then traced, squared to be scaled up to life-size, and inserted into the overall design. The paintings were then executed in his studio.
‘The Nativity’ depicts the Virgin Mary reclining on a straw-filled manger or crib, protectively embracing the Christ Child in swaddling clothes. Saint Joseph, who has his back to the viewer, sits on the ground in the centre of the composition, reading a manuscript in Gothic script.
At the left, three angels are bearing the symbols of the Passion and Crucifixion: the crown of thorns, a container of myrrh and a chalice. These symbols are echoed by the Virgin’s white robe, reminiscent of a shroud, the child’s shroud-like swaddling clothes and the carefully formed draperies transforming the manger into a rustic bier.
These elements are also found in Giotto’s fresco in the Arena Chapel that influenced the initial design.
The mood is unusually solemn, even melancholy. In combining the scene of Christ’s birth with the portents of his death, Burne-Jones revives a subject that was popular in Europe during the 13th and 14th centuries.
Why did Burne-Jones adopt such a sombre interpretation of the Nativity, considering the Victorians had romanticised Christmas and enjoyed it lavishly?
He gives us some clues in the Latin inscription from the Psalms emblazoned across the golden sky in script similar to that in Saint Joseph’s book:
Propter miseriam inopum et gemitum pauperis nunc exsurgam dicit Dominus
“Because the poor are despoiled,
because the needy groan,
I will now rise up,” says the Lord” (Psalm 12: 5).
The quotation is from Saint Jerome’s Latin translation of the Septuagint. But the citation may not have been associated with the Nativity before its use in this context by Burne-Jones, yet is important in understanding his interpretation of this subject.
This citation may not have been associated with the Nativity before its use in this context by Burne-Jones, yet is important in understanding his interpretation of this subject.
Morris and Burne-Jones were strongly influenced by the Christian Socialism associated with the Anglo-Catholic movement. Burne-Jones was deeply worried about the plight of the working class and the impoverished and marginalised people in the slums and inner cities. He believed it was the artist’s role to “paint God for the world,” working with the artist’s “power of bringing God into the world – making God manifest. It is giving back her Child that was crucified to Our Lady of the Sorrows.”
In 1989, Saint John’s parish sold ‘The Nativity’ and its companion painting, ‘The King and the Shepherd,’ in 1989 to pay for a new roof for the church. Copies of the original paintings were hung in the place of the two original paintings, which were bought for £1.5 million by the composer Andrew Lloyd Webber.
Art experts visiting Lloyd Weber’s collection advised him that his fine Victorian drawings, many hung near windows, would suffer irreversible damage if continuously exposed to light. They advised him to move all the drawings to darker rooms, preferably to the very dark entrance hall that housed ‘The Nativity’ and ‘The King and the Shepherd.’
The problems of how to reorganise his collection and find a new place for his large works by Burne-Jones were very much on the composer’s mind in 1996 when he returned to Pittsburgh where his musical Jesus Christ Superstar had its world premiere in 1971.
In 1997, Lloyd Webber donated the paintings to the Carnegie Museum of Art in Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania, where his musical, Jesus Christ Superstar, had its premiere in 1971, hoping they would find a suitable and sympathetic home.
Birmingham Museum and Art Gallery now has the largest collection of works by Burne-Jones in the world, including his massive watercolour ‘The Star of Bethlehem,’ which was commissioned for the gallery in 1887. The paintings are believed by some to have influenced the young JRR Tolkien while he was growing up in Birmingham.
Burne-Jones laboured on ‘The Star of Bethlehem’ in his garden studio in Kensington, using a ladder to reach the upper areas of the composition. He complained that the painting was physically tiring: “Up my steps and down, and from right to left. I have journeyed as many miles already as ever the kings travelled.”
A contemporary critic praised the “strange and radiant” angel figure in the centre of the grouping, slightly upraised beside the kings bearing their presents, relating it to Burne-Jones’s “own peculiar vein of mysticism.”
Asked by a young girl whether he believed in the scene he had depicted in ‘The Star of Bethlehem,’ he replied: “It is too beautiful not to be true.”
Tomorrow: Art for Christmas (1): ‘The Nativity of Christ’ by Juliet Venter.