King Joash Shooting "the arrow of deliverance" , by William Dyce (1806-1864). 1844. Oil on canvas. 30 x 43 1/8 inches (76.3 x 109.5 cm). Collection of Hamburger Kunsthalle, inventory no. HK-1841. Photo: Elke Walford. Image courtesy of Hamburger Kunsthalle. [Click on the images on this web-page to enlarge them.]
An engraving of the work by Butterworth and Heath appeared in The Art Journal in 1860 (p. 293).
Dyce exhibited this painting at the Royal Academy in 1844, no. 248, accompanied by these words in the exhibition catalogue from Kings, II, 13: "And Elijah said unto him, Take bow and arrows. And he said to the King of Israel, Put thine hand upon the bow, and he put his hand upon it, and Elijah put his hands upon the king's hands, and he said, Open the window eastward, and he opened it. Then Eliza said Shoot, and he shot; and he said, The arrow of the Lord's deliverance, and the arrow of deliverance from Syria." This painting is one of the most important of Dyce's early works and led to him being elected as an Associate of the Royal Academy the following year.
Influences and Modern Interpretations of the Picture
Tim Barringer has discussed how Dyce was determined to create a modern Christian art rooted in Renaissance practice and how he turned his attention to earlier Italian painting, like that of Giovanni Bellini, as compared to the Nazarenes. Barringer also felt this painting differed from standard academic painting in England at the time:
King Joash Shooting "the arrow of deliverance," Dyce's only entry to the Royal Academy in 1844, exemplifies his distinctive new form of religious painting, informed by his deep commitment to High Anglicanism, his knowledge of Nazarene practice and his exposure to Italian quattrocento painting. In the Book of Kings the Prophet Elisha instructs the young King of Israel, Joash, to shoot arrows through the east window as a symbol of the victory God intended for the Israelites over their Syrian foe… Despite Elisha's exhortations, Joash lacking faith, faltered after shooting only three arrows, arousing the prophet's ire, and the possible victory over the Syrians did not take place. Dyce's dramatic composition focuses solely on the moral and spiritual dilemma facing Joash, who is held in the balance and found wanting. Dyce's striking angular and pared-down composition reaches to the heart of the narrative: the young king's response to the words of the prophet. Though it displays authoritative draughtsmanship and fine command of anatomy, this is not a typical academic painting of the period. The hard, enamelled finish, Elisha's stiff and stylised draperies, and the sharp burst of orientalist colour in the king's garments and bow all contrast sharply with the lush, painterly effects influenced by sixteenth-century Venetian art and practiced by contemporary painters such as Charles Eastlake and William Etty. [29]
William Vaughan has suggested an influence from modern French art on Dyce's picture: "Indeed more than one contemporary critic drew attention to the French appearance of much of Dyce's work; in particular Joash Shooting the Arrow of Deliverance, which seemed closer to Horace Vernet's vogue for depicting biblical scenes in contemporary Arab costume than it did to the mediaevalizing garments favoured by the Nazarenes. His Jacob and Rachel, too, despite its borrowings, attempts a rendering of the costumes and scenery of the Holy Land that is quite alien to Schnorr's [Julius Schnorr von Carolsfeld] quattrocentist interpretation" (200) One of those contemporary critics was William Thackeray who wrote in Fraser's Magazine: "Among more serious subjects may be mentioned with praise Mr. Dyce's two fierce figures, representing King Joash shooting the arrow of deliverance, which if the critics call 'French,' because they are well and carefully drawn, Mr. Dyce may be proud of being a Frenchman" (711). Even Marcia Pointon agreed that Dyce was indebted to [Jacques-Louis] David and his academic French followers: "Certainly in this, his first painting to receive public approval, William was more indebted to the French than to the Germans….Almost every French neo-classical painting of note incorporates at least one figure with arms raised dramatically like those of Elisha" (78-79).
In her biography of Dyce, Pointon found this a work of both physical and spiritual intensity:
William's choice of subject reflects urgency, his sense of aim, and the artistic energy that had been pent up during his years at the School [Government School of Design]. Rejecting the sensuous for the cerebral, though softening what some reviewers regarded as an intolerable hardness and dryness with warmth of colour, Dyce created a painting of indomitable physical energy and spiritual intensity. The subject, taken from the Book of Kings, concerns the youthful King Joash who visited the aged prophet Elisha on his deathbed to seek advice as to how Israel might be freed from Syrian domination…The figures relate to the canvas in such a way that their full-standing height could not be contained within the area. The result of this arrangement is a powerful sense of suppressed energy. In Joash Dyce rejects the narrative potential of the subject in a way which was to become, paradoxically, typical of his treatment of literary subjects…. Joash is, in one sense, a very physical painting. But the flesh, the tensile limbs, the taut muscles, the bodily energy is used, not with the sensuousness of Rubens or the drama of Michelangelo, but in a Blakeian way. It is strictly controlled and directed towards the expression of spiritual energy and patriotic intrepidity. [76-77]
Pointon goes on to point out how Dyce's painting differs from the work of the Nazarenes: "The muscularity of Dyce's figures and the violence of gesture in Joash were, as much as any single feature in the artist's work, the result of his style being labelled 'German.' But William's approach was fundamentally different from that of the Nazarenes. He was concerned with archeological accuracy…. The bracelet, the bow, the dagger, the sandal, and the woven cloth of Joash are fastidiously observed in William's painting. At the same time, however, we notice that they are not there purely to create authentic atmosphere though this was, inevitably, what the popular person admired…. The Nazarenes were little concerned with archeological accuracy as such, preferring to imitate the illustrated conventions of mediaeval art" (78).
Contemporary Reviews of the Picture
The critic of The Art-Union lavishly praised this work as startling original and one of the great productions of the English school, calling it:
A production of great power, and (we say it with much pleasure) of striking originality. The composition is made out of but two figures – Elisha, and Joash the King of Israel: and upon the merits of these figures alone the artist trusts for the value of his work. Joash is kneeling, and has drawn the arrow to its head, as about to shoot it from the "window to the eastward," and behind is Elijah, with his hands outstretched over the King. We could have wished Elijah to have been more marked in character, to have been, as it were, more signal among men – as it should have been whose bones even had the power of restoring life. The drawing of the two figures is most perfect; but it is not sufficiently remembered that at this time Elijah was sick of the malady of which he died. He is not only old in face, but age is marked in his person, and particularly, as it should be, in his hands. We have long contended for Oriental character as a propriety in Scriptural art; and we rejoice to be enabled to point to a triumphant example of what we mean in these figures, especially in the King, in whom is assembled the best personal points of the Oriental – as now is and as he was in the days of Solomon. Joash wears a girdle and short drapery, precisely in the manner of the figures in the Egyptian relics, a circumstance showing research after authorities for costume; without which an artist can never accomplish truth. In fine, this picture ranks high among the most original works we have ever seen; and is honourable to British Art, as one of the few really grand productions of our school. [158]
The reviewer for The Athenaeum was unprepared for the force and vigour shown in this picture as compared to Dyce's previous works:
The picture which will attract the most glances to this section of the middle room is the King Joash shooting the Arrow of Deliverance (248), a work as eminent for its singularity as for its power. The Royal archer and the prophet, whose bidding guides his arm, are both drawn and painted with a vigour unusual in the English school. There is no slovenly effect-work, but a completeness and sinew, which, if they verge upon metallic hardness, are not, in this peculiar subject, wholly misplaced. But we see not why the King of Israel should be represented as naked as an athlete, save for a few gaudy scarfs and bracelets, such as indeed might fit an Indian prepared for a war-dance, or a Fakeer of the East, but hardly a Jewish monarch. Then, too, there is not sufficient discrimination between the fire of expectation which animates his features, and the fire of prophecy which speaks in the countenance of the seer. The picture, however, has a spirit and a force for which we were unprepared: the artist's predilections, to judge from his earlier works, having been principally bent towards the mysticism and quietude of the schools of early Christian art. [459]
When reviewing Dyce's entire career in The Art Journal in 1860, James Dafforne pointed to this picture as an important landmark and one that resulted from improvements made in his draughtsmanship from studying in Mr. Taylor's life academy in St. Martin's Lane:
The first result of this new study, one which, in fact, he had never previously undergone, his Art-education having been of the most the desultory kind, became immediately apparent in the picture of King Joash Shooting the Arrow of Deliverance, exhibited at the Academy in 1844…. The subject of the "Joash" picture is taken from the history narrated in the second book of Kings, VIII, where the prophet Elisha, shortly before his death, directs the King of Israel to "open the window eastward," and shoot the "arrow of deliverance from Syria." The composition is as original as it is powerful: the drawing of the two figure shows, as we have intimated, the mastery and skill acquired in the life school of Mr. Taylor, while the costume manifests as distinctly the careful study of the customs and manners of the Easterns at that period, when the males wore little else than a skirt girdled about their loins. The action of the aged prophet is most suitable and impressive, as if with his outstretched hands he would urge the arrow even beyond the limits which the bowman's strength could reach. Simple as the subject is in itself, it is invested with grander by the manner in which it is treated. [295]
Bibliography
Andrews, Keith. The Nazarenes. A Brotherhood of German Painters in Rome
Barringer, Tim. Pre-Raphaelites. Victorian Avant-Garde. London: Tate Britain, 2012, cat. 4, 29.
Caw, James. Scottish Painting Past and Present. Edinburgh: T.C. and E. C. Jack, 1908, 129.
Dafforne, James. "British Artists: Their Style and Character. No. LI. - William Dyce." The Art Journal New Series VI (1860): 293-96.
"Fine Arts. The Royal Academy." The Athenaeum No. 864 (18 May 1844): 459-61.
"Fine Arts. The Royal Academy." The Spectator XVII (11 May 1844): 451.
"Joas schießt den Pfeil der Erlösung, 1844." Hamburger Kunsthalle. Web. 16 December 2024.
Pointon, Marcia. William Dyce 1806-1864. A Critical Biography. Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1979, 72-74, 76-78, 152, 195.
_____. "William Dyce as a Painter of Biblical Subjects." The Art Bulletin LVIII, No. 2 (June 1976): 266.
"The Royal Academy." The Art-Union VI (1 June 1844): 153-72.
Thackeray, William. "May Gambols: or Titmarsh in the Picture-Galleries." Fraser's Magazine XXIX (June 1844): 700-713.
Vaughan, William. German Romanticism and English Art. New Haven and London: Yales University Press, 1979, 198-200.
Created 16 December 2024