"I am half-sick of shadows," said The Lady of Shalott
by John William Waterhouse


In this, the last of his Ladies of Shalott, Waterhouse chose that same moment as Meteyard, when the lady catches a glimpse of a young couple in her mirror. This lady does not close her eyes in pain, though. She stretches and gazes wistfully, apparently daydreaming about the life she is missing. She is not the same prisoner, high up in her tower that we saw in the previous version. We get the feeling that it is pure will power that prevents the lady from leaning out of her balcony window. This is not the padded cell of Meteyard's vision, for Waterhouse has given her a large clear mirror, reflecting a wide balcony, with arches and columns, overlooking the river and Camelot, tantalizingly close. This lady gets to see the world pass by in glorious technicolour. Her room is brightly lit and full of fresh air. The couple are almost within reach, and very real, not at all the shady phantoms glimpsed in the distorted dark mirror in Meteyard's picture.

We can imagine how easy it would be for this lady to glance towards us, to leave her art for the moment and see real life. At any moment, Lancelot will come riding by, full of life, whistling and singing and she will not be able avoid the temptation of such a spectacle. She will turn to look at him and the curse will fall, heralded by the cracking of her mirror and the destruction of her loom and tapestry. She will be doomed to death for daring to take a glimpse at life, for forgetting her work and her duty for an instant.

By choosing to depict the moments before this dramatic climax to the tale, Meteyard and Waterhouse excuse her. We understand why she would want to risk it all for a little life and she has our sympathy. This scene affects us in a completely different way to the sensational climax. We stop and think, contemplating the life she is missing.

Painted in 1916, the original hangs in the Art Gallery of Ontario, Toronto.

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