An Incident in the Life of St. Elizabeth of Hungary (The Renunciation of Queen Elizabeth of Hungary), by James Collinson (1825-1881). Oil on canvas; 47 ¾ x 71 ½ inches (120.3 x 181.6 cm). Collection of Johannesburg Art Gallery. Image kindly provided by the author.

This is Collinson's Pre-Raphaelite masterpiece which he worked on between 1848-50. He exhibited the painting twice in 1851, initially at the National Institution of Fine Arts, the so-called "Free Exhibition", at the Portland Gallery in London under the title An Incident in the Life of St. Elizabeth of Hungary, and then later at the Manchester Institution as The Humility of St. Elizabeth. Under the later title it was shown again at the Liverpool Academy in 1852. Today, however, the painting is most frequently referred to as The Renunciation of Queen Elizabeth of Hungary.

It illustrates the story of the thirteenth century noblewoman who renounced her throne, her possessions, and her family, for spiritual reasons in order to become an ascetic and minister to the poor. St. Elizabeth was never, in fact, Queen of Hungary. She was born in 1207 A.D., the daughter of King Andrew II of Hungary and his wife Gertrud of Merania. As a young child Elizabeth was betrothed to the firstborn son of Herman, the Landgrave of Thuringia, She was taken to Wartburg, Thuringia, in 1211 to be raised at the Ludovingian court and never returned to her native country. She married Lewis IV of Thuringia in 1221. When she was widowed at a young age she renounced her crown and the world to dedicate her life to Christ. She left the hostile court at Wartburg Castle near Eisenach and lived at the court of the dominating monk Conrad of Marburg where she founded a Franciscan hospital for the poor. She died in 1231 at the age of twenty-four. Her burial site soon became a place of pilgrimage and she was canonized a saint by Pope Gregory IX in 1235.

D. M. Bentley feels the shift in titles of Collinson's painting over time "can be read as an index of their creator's shifting attitudes to the act that they depict, the complexities of attitudes and emotions represented by the various figures and activities in their crowded picture spaces attest to his awareness of the complexities surrounding his 'dangerous' subject" (29). The motif has generally been thought to have been largely inspired by Charles Kingsley's play The Saint's Tragedy published in 1848. Meacock, however, thinks the painting is principally based on the book The Chronicle of the Life of St. Elizabeth of Hungary written by Charles Forbes Rene, Le Comte de Montalembert, in 1836 and translated into English by Ambrose Lisle Phillips in 1839 (99-100). Collinson had appended an extract from Montalembert's Chronicle to his title in the exhibition catalogue for the "Free Exhibition" at the Portland Gallery in 1851.

In the episode depicted by Collinson the Landgravine of Thuringia had taken the Princesses Agnes and Elizabeth to Mass, where Elizabeth removes her crown and prostrates herself at the foot of the great crucifix to the disapproval of her companions (Parkinson 250). Collinson set about creating a positive image in the manner of Montalembert's tale by depicting St Elizabeth in the church of St George in Eisenach during Mass, kneeling at the foot of a crucifix, with her cheek placed lovingly on Christ's feet, and symbolically placing her crown on the floor, despite the displeasure of her future mother-in-law, the Duchess Sophia. Rays of light from the stained glass window fall on Elizabeth as divine benediction. Beside her with face bowed to the ground can be seen a figure of a monk, alluding perhaps to Elizabeth's friendship with St Francis, whom she considered to be "her patron and spiritual father," and to the path of celibacy which she would herself take under his Order at Marburg in Hesse. Collinson has intimated this by dressing Elizabeth in a dark robe with a white undergarment and headcloth, so that visually she resembled a conventional Sister. She has already taken off and laid aside her crown. Her disconcerted mother-in-law, the Landgravina Sophia, is the woman portrayed bending over the kneeling Elizabeth, while the remainder of her ladies in waiting kneel behind Sophia. Sophia's daughter Agnes, looking aghast, is directly behind her mother and is also wearing a coronet. A kneeling peasant is seen to the left in front of a statue of the Virgin Mary with his offering of fruit in a round basket, next to the prostrate monk, while three Teutonic knights are entering from the right. Various emotions are registered on the faces of the three young knights – piety, apprehension, amazement, and earnestness – the possible reactions that mark the transition of Elizabeth from noblewoman to eventual saint. An even greater range of responses can be noted in the faces of Elizabeth's female companions including shock, wonder, curiosity and indifference, Bentley therefore makes the valid point that "It is scarcely an exaggeration to say that the presence of so many surrogate spectators in The Renunciation of Queen Elizabeth of Hungary means the subject of the painting is both the event it depicts and the gamut of responses to it" (32-33). Peteri has pointed out that certain features of the painting bear "prefigurative references" to significant future events in the life of St. Elizabeth. The young couple taking each other's arms in the centre of the composition refers to Elizabeth's happy married life. Four crusaders standing in the background and praying at the far end of the church prefigure her husband Lewis's joining a crusade where he will die of fever on his way to Italy prior to reaching the Holy Land. The prostrate monk in the left foreground refers to Elizabeth's later renunciation and withdrawal from worldly life. The images of the martyred saints on the floor may foreshadow Elizabeth's own later canonization (59).

Holman Hunt had obvious reservations about Collinson's picture: "He had advanced but put aside a promised Pre-Raphaelite picture of St. Elizabeth of Hungary found by a band of young courtiers in the cathedral at the foot of the cross. It was a neat and at the same time a timid effort, the would-be Pre-Raphaelitism of which was stamped by the fact that he had painted the interior from a brand-new correct period ritualistic church in London with Minton tiles for the pavement!" (194). Collinson had used St. Barnabas Church in Pimlico for the interior of his painting and Hunt obviously objected to the anachronism of portraying the modern church with its Minton tiles. The obvious Catholic overtones of the painting also did not meet with the approval of some viewers. W. B. Scott linked its imagery to theology students from Anglican colleges who were converting to Roman Catholicism: "There was, indeed, still another painter in the P.R.B. group of seven, and he was too seriously moved by the momentary religious tone then in vogue…In this picture the young queen and saint was praying in church surrounded by many figures, but the drawing as well as the sentiment was too flaccid and weak, and the realization of the subject, neat indeed and smooth, but feeble in the extreme. In all respects the picture resembled the feckless dilettantism of the converts who were then dropping out of their places in Oxford and Cambridge into Mariolatry and Jesuitism" (281).

The reviewer for The Athenaeum was certainly not impressed by the affectations of this picture in his review of the National Institution of Fine Arts Exhibition of 1851:

Though the number of what may be called "furniture pictures" in the Portland Gallery be somewhat large, and though the new exhibitors seem generally too apt to form themselves after questionable models, in lieu of endeavouring to think and paint for themselves,….Historical composition of a very high order was perhaps not to be expected, - nor will it here be found; unless we are to accept as such the "acts of faith" exhibited by the Pre-Raphaelite brethren, who seem fond of attitudinizing in this Exhibition-room, - and beyond devotional attitudinizing the expression of their pictures does not generally rise. – Mr. Collinson's Incident in the Life of St. Elizabeth of Hungary (no. 177) is one of the most carefully treated works in the Exhibition, according to the canons of affectation and error above indicated. None of the figures are slighted – none of the details left unfinished. The moment chosen is that described in the Count de Montalembert's life of the Saint, - at the Festival of the Assumption, "when Elizabeth, raising her eyes to the great crucifix, took off her crown, and prostrated herself at the foot of the Cross, while the Landgravine rebuked her rudely," and "the hatred of the Thuringian Court was inflamed" by this new overt profession of piety.

The reviewer goes on to explain how Collinson handles the episode, and his possible reasons for approaching it in the way he does:

Under pretext, we suppose, of avoiding what is obvious, theatrical, mundane, &c. &c., Mr. Collinson has left out all the spirit and emotion of the above passage; formally and deliberately contradicting the legend. The Saint looks dreamily – almost vacantly – towards the spectator, away from the crucifix; the Landgravine is mournfully pious and stiffly gentle in aspect and gesture, - not "rude." The ladies of the "inflamed"c court are kneeling hard by, in all manner of gay clothes and missal attitudes, observing the holy virgin with merely an insipid and pious curiosity: - while the row of young knights so closely resemble young monks who have crept into mail by mistake that edification rather than exasperation seems to be produced in them by the tableau. Thus much as regards expression.

The composition itself comes in for some scathing criticism, but also a recognition of Collinson's considerable talent:

We are aware that according to the canons of the Pre-Raphaelite sect the arts of composition are but as some many "filthy rags" compared with the "righteousness" of sincere reality: - and Mr. Collinson has probably, therefore, on purpose rendered his groups uncouth by a perverse arrangement of lines, and his scene confused by utter neglect of the sensualities of perspective. According to his breviary of Art there may be a "saving grace" in the uplifted hands which group so whimsically with the crown and veil of the Landgravine – a deep meaning in the bundle of drapery in the foreground which is a prostrate "religious" – a beautiful fitness in the architectural intricacies of the Church within which the scene is enacted, from which daring must be the guesser who professes to unthread a plan; while the crowning glory may, for aught we know to the contrary, reside in the almost Pagan clumsiness of the crucified figure on the feet of which the chin and cheek of St. Elizabeth are resting. There needs the cordial yet searching wit of a Sydney Smith to deal as they deserve with fopperies of this order manifested in Art, - and without let, hindrance, or mitigation so far as concerns Mr. Collinson; because in this very picture the talent is as great as the conceited quietisms which we have reprehended are numerous. Thorough finish and care and self-respect are evident: - merits never more to be valued than in these fa presto [hurry up] days. Some of the accessory heads are good, - every detail is in keeping, - and an air of solemnity pervades the scene in spite of its affluence of bright colour and absence of shadow, owing to the artist's constancy to one tone of thought and purpose. [434-35]

A critic for The Art Journal felt such a Pre-Raphaelite work wouldn't succeed much like the work of the Nazarenes had failed in Germany:

An Incident in the Life of St. Elizabeth of Hungary, J. Collinson. This large picture affords an extraordinary instance of, we may say, misapplied industry. It is a production of the revolutionary, or young England school. The subject is by no means clear, inasmuch as there is no definite and intelligible act described; there is enough of religious fervour, but the incident is not apparent. There are many figures in the work, the features of which are stippled with the most painful nicety; but we think the cruellest delusion in these works is their utter want of effect; there are background figures here that come before those which are nearest; if there was any natural disposition to chiaroscuro, or any disposition which involved the results of such a disposition, the sharpness of these cutting lines would be in a great measure counteracted. We have much to say on this subject, but must shorten our observations for want of space. The attempt to popularise this kind of Art has failed in Germany, and it never can succeed here. [139]

The Builder thought Collinson's talents were wasted in this work: "An extravaganza by a P.R.B. (177), an Incident in the Life of St. Elizabeth of Hungary, by J. Collinson, which needs a quotation in the catalogue, shows many good points, obscured by studied ugliness, and furnishes another instance of painstaking mistaken enthusiasm. The interior of the Cathedral, the pavement, with its brasses, and other separate portions well painted, are spoiled by the introduction of the number of meaningless hideous dolls, as far from nature as much of the picture is from art. The thought and earnestness shown in the work, however, save it from condemnation" (248).

W. M. Rossetti in The Spectator reviewed this work extensively, pointing out both its virtues and deficiencies:

"Mr. Deverell [Walter Deverell] might derive a profitable lesson from Mr. Collinson's Incident in the life of St. Elizabeth of Hungary (177). This incident belongs to high mass on the feast of the Assumption; when it is told of St. Elizabeth, that, kneeling before the crucifix, she took the coronet from her head, and the Landravine of Thuringia reproved her for behaving like boys and old women. St. Elizabeth, resting her cheek on the feet of the effigy, is absorbed in holy musings; the Landravine touches her, and points towards an old woman worshipping prostrate, near whom is a youth praying before the Virgin's image: beside the princess are her maids of honour; one of whom, of the royal house, rises in surprise and displeasure. Louis, the betrothed husband of Elizabeth, advances from the right, accompanied by his brothers Conrad and Henry, whose after persecution of the saint is foreshadowed in his evil look. There is a very refined sentiment in many of the accessory groups; as of the girl lifting a young child to the holy water, of the two lovers singing, and the two children similarly engaged as if under a sense of grave responsibility. The figure of Louis is fine, and some of the ladies' expressions are very sweet. The fundamental excellence of the work is its general propriety of arrangement, including the truthfulness with which those engaged in the offices of the church are disposed, and of all relating to the church itself: the laborious accuracy of the mosaic floor deserves special mention. But the picture is worthy to have its faults also stated, and we will bear the detail. Foremost of these is a general coldness; the figures are sometimes weak in drawing, and rather flat, suggesting timidity on the artist's part; and the picture loses much in its interest, and indeed in the first requisites of expression, by the use of the same model for so many of the ladies, including Elizabeth herself. The Landravine is rigid and unfinished; and the figure of Prince Henry should be reconsidered: his action is common, uncalled for, and much too obvious, and his head poorly painted. Indeed, the work might be carried further in various respects; but it is not the less for that one of singularly delicate and chaste feeling, well invented and composed, and conscientiously executed. A little more well-directed labour would remove many objections. [377]

A preliminary drawing for the painting is in the collection of the Birmingham City Art Gallery.

Links to Related Material

Bibliography

Bentley, D. M. R. "The Principal Pre-Raphaelite Pictures of James Collinson," Victorian Review XXX (2004): 25-43.

"Fine Arts. National Institution of Fine Arts." The AthenaeumNo. 1225 (April 19, 1851): 434-35.

Hunt, William Holman. Pre-Raphaelitism and the Pre-Raphaelite Brotherhood. Volume I. London: MacMillan & Co. Ltd., 1905.

Meacock, Joanna. "Saintly ecstasies: the appropriation of saintly imagery in the paintings and poems of Dante Gabriel Rossetti." PhD thesis, University of Glasgow, 2001.

Montalembert, C. F. The Chronicle of the Life of St. Elizabeth of Hungary. Trans. A. L. Philips. Two volumes. London: Booker & Dolman, 1839.

"The National Exhibition." The Art Journal New Series III (1851): 138-40.

Neuman, Helen D. James Collinson. Foulsham: Rueben Books, 2016, 38-39 and 91-92.

Parkinson, Ronald. "James Collinson." Pre-Raphaelite Papers. Ed. Leslie Parris. London: Allan Lane, 1984, 69 & 72.

_____. "The Renunciation of the Queen of Hungary." The Pre-Raphaelites. London: Tate Gallery Publications, 1984, cat. 169, 250.

Peteri, Eva. "Revisiting James Collinson's Representation of Saint Elizabeth of Hungary." Journal of Pre-Raphaelite Studies New Series XXVII (Fall 2018): 56-63.

"The Portland Gallery, Regent Street." The Builder IX (1851): 247-48.

Rossetti, William Michael. "Fine Arts. Exhibition of the National Institution." The Spectator XXIV (April 19, 1851): 377-78.

Scott, William Bell. Autobiographical Notes of the Life of William Bell Scott. Ed. W. Minto. Volume I. New York: Harper & Brothers, 1892.


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Created 12 July 2023

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