St. Elizabeth of Hungary's Great Act of Renunciation, 1891. Philip Hermogenes Calderon (1833-1898). Oil on canvas; 60 1/4 x 84 inches (153.0 x 213.4 cm). Collection of Tate Britain, reference no. NO1573. Kindly released on the Creative Commons CC-BY-NC-ND (3.0 Unported) licence. [Click on the images to enlarge them.]
This painting was exhibited at the Royal Academy in 1891, no. 226, and was accompanied by these lines in the catalogue: "Holy and self-sacrificing as her short life had been…she went into a small chapel…threw off all her garments, and, kneeling before the altar, etc." Elizabeth of Hungary (1207-1231) was a Hungarian princess, the devout daughter of Andrew II, who was married at age fourteen in 1221 to Lewis IV, Landgrave of Thuringia. Elizabeth became known for a life of piety and good works, both giving to and serving the poor. Following her husband's death in 1227 during one of the Crusades, when she was still only age twenty, she was invited to become regentess but instead declined and opted to enter a convent and devote herself to good works. In order to fulfil her need to serve God, however, she passed through a spiritual crisis prior to becoming a nun, because renouncing the world also meant abandoning her children even though she had made arrangements for their care. Guided by her spiritual advisor, the austere, ascetic, and dominating monk Conrad of Marburg, Elizabeth gave up her power and wealth for a life of seclusion. She built the Franciscan hospital at Marburg and became devoted to the care of the sick. Conrad's guidance was extremely severe as he set near impossible standards, allowed her only a highly limited diet, and reputedly ordered her to be physically punished. Under this harsh treatment she died prematurely aged only twenty-four. Her burial site soon became a place of pilgrimage and she was canonized a saint by Pope Gregory IX in 1235. Calderon's picture portrays her in a moment of self-abasement. The subject is taken from a play by the Anglican priest and university professor Charles Kingsley, The Saint's Tragedy, first published in 1848. The play was blatantly anti-Catholic. In the poem Elizabeth tears off her clothes and vows to go "naked and barefoot throughout the world to follow My naked Lord."
When this painting was exhibited in 1891 it soon sparked notoriety. The Academy deplored Calderon's mistranslation of the passage upon which the subject matter rests:
It is strange that Mr. Calderon, having, with a certain amount of audacity, chosen for the subject of a large canvas St. Elizabeth of Hungary's Great Act of Renunciation , should have treated it with a meanness and a timidity which almost render prurient what might have been powerfully dramatic. The royal saint kneels here, as naked as her mother Eve, on the stone steps of the altar, and, in the presence of her confessor and of certain monks and nuns, renounces all the pomps and vanities of this world. But the gentle queen is little more than a feebly-drawn lay figure, wanting in distinctiveness alike of form and of expression; while nowhere is the dramatic situation at all adequately expressed. Such a theme demands, indeed, the lurid romanticism, the Hugoesque contrasts, in which a John-Paul Laurens revels. Moreover, it would appear that Mr. Calderon's conception of the scene rests on a misapprehension, and that Hungary's queen by no means played the Lady Godiva, but merely, while performing her act of renunciation, put off her outer and more splendid garments, and with them the insignia of royalty. [471]
Much the same sentiments were echoed by the critic of The Art Journal who shared his own concerns about the misinterpretation of certain lines upon which the subject was based (194).
F. G. Stephens in The Athenaeum gave it but faint praise not considering it to be amongst his best compositions: "Mr. Calderon's Saint Elizabeth of Hungary's Great Act of Renunciation (226) shows the queen kneeling quite naked before an altar on which she leans in self-abasement. Grim monks and ladies absorbed in passionate prayer are grouped behind the queen. The design is good, though far from being the painter's best. The naked figure does not move us to admiration of the self-sacrifice of the saint, and yet it cannot be called tame. The ecclesiastic standing behind provokes the like criticism. The subject is well enough dramatized by the picture, which lacks nothing more than a little fibre to be worthy of its accomplished execution" (643).
The controversy over this picture became even greater when it was purchased by the Chantrey Bequest for £1200. The Portfolio stated: Mr. P. H. Calderon's now notorious St. Elizabeth of Hungary's Great Act of Renunciation…nothing can justify its purchase. It is not even a characteristic Calderon" (xvi). It seems a pity that Mr. Calderon's picture of Elizabeth of Hungary's Great Act of Renunciation should have been purchased for the nation by the Chantrey trustees, before they were aware of the displeasure with which it would be regarded by the Queen's Roman Catholic subjects. The weight of authority even amongst Protestant scholars is decidedly against the interpretation of the old chronicler which Mr. Calderon has adopted. The Catholics regard the picture as an imputation on their Church that she does not value the virtue of modesty in women...However the Chantrey trustees declare that they had no power to undo what they have done, – it was done, we believe, before the Academy opened, – and the Duke of Norfolk's protest on behalf of the Catholic Union has simply elicited the statement from Mr. Calderon, far from meaning to hurt her feelings of Catholics, supposed that he was commemorating a great act of Catholic piety. [815] The poet Alice Meynell in the Catholic periodical the Weekly Register deplored Calderon's mistranslation of the Latin quotation that had appeared in the Royal Academy catalogue. The translation stated: "She laid her sacred hands upon the bare altar, and renounced her own will, her parents, children and relations, and all such pomps in imitation of Christ; and she altogether despoiled and stripped her self bare." Meynell's concern was that Calderon had translated the Latin "nudus" in a literal rather than in a metaphorical sense: "Finally, we have a word of protest – though hardly as art critics – against the extraordinary prank played by Mr. Calderon in St Elizabeth of Hungary's Great Act of Renunciation for which he quotes Dietrich's life of the Saint... Mr. Calderon has obviously mistranslated a passage describing the Saint laying aside her Royal ornaments with a result that this picture is absurd and disquieting. It will be a little disaster if so odd a misapprehension should be preserved in the national site forever by the purchase of the picture under the Chantrey Bequest. We hear rumours to that effect" (567). Many Catholics raised concerns over this work because of its perceived anti-Catholic erotic prurience. L. B. Walford reiterated the Catholic position in The Critic and Literary World: The Duke [of Norfolk] is much exercised in his mind by the picture of St. Elizabeth of Hungary's Great Act of Renunciation now hanging in the galleries of Burlington House, and just purchased by the trustees of the Chantrey bequest for the National Gallery. The Duke, as spokesman for the Catholic Union, protests that the painter of this picture (Philip Calderon R.A.) has depicted a conception which is "historically false and founded on a complete misapprehension." Further, that such a travesty of the "sacred incident" supposed to be represented (the saint is painted as a nude figure kneeling before the altar with a group of Franciscans in the background) "is particularly offensive to Catholics, as attributing a sinful act of gross immodesty to a canonized saint, deeply venerated for the singular purity of her life" - with more to the same purpose. Upon which grounds the Council of the Catholic Union entreat the picture may not be added to the national collection. The President and Council of the Academy, however, whilst deprecating the idea of any disrespect or irreverence on the part of Mr. Calderon, decline to take any steps, :even had they power to do so," to prevent the trustees of Sir Francis Chantrey from carrying out their project. This seems a pity. If the religious feelings of a large number of our fellow-countrymen are to be permanently wounded by the exhibition in a prominent place of a picture which is not, to tell the truth, a pleasing one to the eye of modesty, apart from any other sentiment, surely it would be better to yield the point. Sir F. Leighton and his Council may hint that they "have not the power" to interfere, but we all know what that means." (9] In fact Calderon's depiction of the saint proved so controversial in Victorian times that concerns about its moral respectability were even raised in Parliament with the purchase of an "obscene and blasphemous and ridiculous" painting by the trustees of the Chantrey Trust. A writer for The Modern Church, however, refuted many of the concerns raised by Catholics: The excitement occasioned by the purchase for the national collection of pictures of Mr. Philip H Calderon'sSt. Elizabeth of Hungary's Great Act of Renunciation, out of the funds of the Chantry [sic] bequest, has not yet ceased to agitate the Roman Catholic world. The indignation of the Catholic Union, however – the body which officially moved in the matter – it surely entirely misdirected in this instance. The nudity of the kneeling figure of the Saint is, of course, the chief ground of offence; but the picture does not seem to overstep the limits of legitimate art, and, as the President and Council of the Royal Academy state, it "was conceived and carried out in a grave and truly reverent spirit."" It can scarcely be doubted that the President and Council were fully justified in their reply to the Catholic Union, which was, in effect, that while they regretted to find they had wounded the susceptibilities of anyone, they had neither power nor desire to withdraw the picture from the national collection. [186] St. Elizabeth of Hungary. “In the Schwabe Collection.” Philip Hermogenes Calderon, A. R. A. (1833-98). Oil on canvas. Source: 1897-98 Magazine of Art, p. 449. Image scan and caption by George P. Landow. This controversy continues to today as pointed out by Maureen Moran: "Philip Calderon's 1891 painting, St. Elizabeth of Hungary's Great Act of Renunciation is a case in point. The work depicts St. Elizabeth's surrender of worldly goods and power, symbolically indicated by her nakedness. This is not a solitary act of divestiture, but takes place in the presence of her confessor, Conrad of Marburg, and other religious figures. The painting caused outrage from both Catholics and Protestant social purity groups, who read it as a licentious depiction of perverse Catholic practice or of an erotically charged female body. Much public debate focussed on the historical accuracy of this scene; but the boundary distinguishing great art from prurient pornography was the central underlying concern. While Calderon's fine draughtsmanship was never questioned, the painting's achievement was primarily assessed in terms of its implications for spectatorship, particularly with respect to the ambivalent role of Conrad. The repeated charge of indecency drew attention to the display of Elisabeth "stark naked in a church in the presence of men," an insult to her noble purity and a calumny of her apparently prurient confessor who encouraged this self-abasement…It is not difficult to see why various constituencies would object to Calderon's strange vignette from the saint's life. On the one hand the unifying points of light in the painting suggest the ascetic purpose of this flagrant and intimate physical self-exposure. These partially illuminate a crucifix and the discarded clothing of Elizabeth as well as the saint's kneeling, submissive presence. However, it is the nude body, face hidden, that dominates the space from the point of view of lighting, mass, and structure. Female nakedness infiltrates and erodes the interpretive boundaries of the spectacle. Elizabeth's sinuous serpentine pose might implicitly hint at the dangerous temptations of female sexuality, but her bowed head and exposed back offer the humiliation and degradation of the female body as a subject for aesthetic contemplation and pleasure. Even more striking is the extent to which the painting draws its erotic impact from the theme of bodily looking itself, for Elizabeth is vulnerable to inspection from the other characters in the painting as well as the external spectator. The monk covers his eyes, in a gesture of horror and guilt at witnessing such a transgressive display and abjection of the female body. The two nuns are lost in prayer; one averts her gaze from the saint as if retreating into her own sense of modesty, discretion and privacy; the other gazes heavenward in wondering ecstatic prayer but this only serves to emphasize an irreligious link between spiritual gratification and physical degradation. Most explicitly, the upright Conrad stares intensely at his spiritual protégé. His figure is all unpitying, stern authority. His feelings remain veiled and hence suspect; a curious voyeur or sadistic "brute," he is represented as a figure in unhealthy control of Elizabeth's spiritual formation and director of her gesture of self-negation. [482-84] This painting is in stark contrast to James Collinson's much earlier Pre-Raphaelite masterpiece An Incident in the Life of St. Elizabeth of Hungary that he exhibited twice in 1851, initially at the National Institution of Fine Arts, the so-called "Free Exhibition," at the Portland Gallery in London. Later it was shown at the Manchester Institution under the title The Humility of St. Elizabeth. In Collinson's painting, Elizabeth is depicted 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. Elizabeth was definitely not depicted nude but was modestly dressed in a dark robe with a white undergarment and headcloth, so visually she resembled a conventional nun. You may use the second image without prior permission for any scholarly or educational purpose as long as you (1) credit George Landow, the Internet Archive and the University of Toronto Library and (2) link your document to this URL in a web document or cite the Victorian Web in a print one. "Art Chronicle." The Portfolio XXII (July 1, 1891): xv-xvi. "Fine Art. The Royal Academy II." The Academy XXXIX (May 16, 1891): 471-72. Meynell, Alice. "Pictures of the year." Weekly Register (1891): 567. Moran, Maureen. "The Art of Looking Dangerously: Victorian Images of Martyrdom." Victorian Literature and Culture XXXII (2004): 475-93. "Mr. Calderon's Picture." The Modern Church I (June 18, 1891): 186. "News of the Week." The Spectator LXVI (June 13, 1891): 813-15. Smith, Alison. Exposed. The Victorian Nude. London: Tate Publishing 2001, cat. 151, 234-35. Stephens, Frederic George. "Fine Arts. The Royal Academy." The Athenaeum No. 3316 (May 16, 1891): 641-43. Storey, G. A., A. R. A. "Philip Hermogenes Calderon, A. R. A. (1833-98)."" Magazine of Art. 22 (November 1897-October 1898): 446-52. Internet Archive version of a copy in the University of Toronto Library. Web. 28 October 2014. [Complete text in the Victorian Web.] "The Summer Exhibitions at Home and Abroad. III – The Royal Academy and New Gallery." The Art Journal New Series XXX (1891): 194-200. Walford, L. B. "London letter." The Critic and Literary World XIX (July 4, 1891): 9-10.
Created 28 October 2014
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last modified 19 July 2023