Achilles, frantic for the loss of Patroclus, rejecting the consolation of Thetis

 <em>Achilles frantic for the loss of Patroclus, rejecting the consolation of Thetis</em> (1803) is a significant Neo-classical painting in Te Papa’s collection. Its story is central to our comprehension and appreciation of the painting. It comes from Homer’s epic poem <em>The Iliad.</em>

The Trojan Wars are raging. The great Greek warrior Achilles – who is in a furious sulk after being dishonoured by Agamemnon – has withdrawn from combat. He has lent his armour to his beloved friend and comrade Patroclus, who is bursting to counter-attack the Trojans, who look like they are winning. Achilles has warned Patroclus not to pursue the enemy to the walls of Troy, even if things appear to go his friend’s way. They do, and Patroclus ignores Achilles, foolishly thinking that the armour renders him invincible. Big mistake: he is slain by Hector, the son of Priam, King of the Trojans. The tragic news is conveyed to Achilles by Antilochus, ‘Nestor’s son, the messenger of woe’, to quote from Alexander Pope’s famous translation of <em>The Iliad</em> (1715-20), which was almost certainly Dawe’s inspiration.

Antilochus is the main standing figure in the painting, resplendent in his plumed helmet with a sphinx and a ram’s head, and a deep apricot chiton garment. He shields his face, but having known the news for some time, remains stoical in grief. In front of him is Achilles’s tenderly consoling mother, Thetis, who is scantily clad and looks uncannily youthful: remember you can get away with this if you have deity status! Achilles himself, writhing in agonised grief, provides the focal point of the composition. He is denuded of his armour – and just about everything else. Finally, note how the swooning surrounding figures are overwhelmingly female: they comprise a varied cast of ‘virgin captives’ taken earlier in the war, and Nereids or sea-nymphs, attendants of Thetis. Prominent among them and to the viewer’s right are the Three Graces (who normally made their appearance in happier circumstances), while behind them we catch a glimpse of Achilles’s fleet.

How could we have got the main meaning of this painting wrong, as art historians did till the early 21st century? We can partly blame ourselves for being inadequately lettered in the Ancients, not to mention Pope. The meaning and the moment chosen would have struck Dawe and his educated public as being pretty obvious. But calling it what he did - the short title was <em>The Death of Patroclus -</em> led to subsequent errors of interpretation. For a long time, the central nude figure was taken literally to mean Patroclus himself when it is his very absence that gives the painting its psychological power. One error leads to another. The helmetted figure, formerly thought to be Achilles, hardly needs consoling; as Pope says, Antilochus is altogether ‘manlier’ in his bearing.

Full credit for the correction to Dawe’s interpretation must go to Mary Kisler, Senior Curator of the Mackelvie Collection of International Art at Auckland Art Gallery Toi o Tamaki, and her admirable account in <em>Angels & Aristocrats: Early European Art in New Zealand Public Collections</em> (2010). I will leave you with one question. Now that we understand Dawe’s intended meaning, shouldn’t we be kinder on the painting than the account in <em>Art at Te Papa </em>(2009), which claimed ‘the work is somewhat lacking in compositional cohesion’? Isn’t the whole point that Achilles’s savage grief tore cohesion to shreds? The painting also has an underlying philosophical relevance to it, notwithstanding the age-old Homeric theme. Should we blame Fate or the gods for the recent tragedy, or should we think, as Achilles does, in terms of personal responsibility?

Sources:

Mary Kisler, <em>Angels & Aristocrats: Early European Art in New Zealand Public Collections</em> (Auckland, 2010), pp. 192-94.

Mark Stocker, https://blog.tepapa.govt.nz/2015/09/18/healing-te-papas-achilles-heel-george-dawe-redefined/

***

Exhibition label from <em>European Splendour 1500-1800 </em>(Te Papa, 2016-17)

<strong>A well-dressed home</strong>

In the late 1700s, Britain was becoming the most powerful trading nation in the world.

Exotic raw materials like Caribbean mahogany were imported and transformed into sophisticated furniture for consumers at home and abroad. These dedicated followers of fashion browsed catalogues for the latest designs.

Knowledge of classical literature was essential for anyone who wanted to appear refined. This painting depicts the tragic moment in Homer’s <em>Iliad</em> when Achilles learns his friend Patroclus has died in battle.

Dr Mark Stocker   Curator, Historical International Art   December 2018