Art Throb #27: The Pride of Dijon (1879) by William John Hennessy (1879-1917)

William John Hennessy (1879-1917), The Pride of Dijon (1879)

Private Collection

Dimensions and media unknown

This is a charming picture. The stuff of a thousand greetings cards, the scene it depicts is an old favourite: a Victorian idyll comprising a beautiful woman in an exquisite exterior location, the well-tended gardens of an implicitly large house. Almost cloyingly beautiful, and reminiscent of Tissot or pre-Raphaelite paintings, the story it tells is not that of myth or fairytale, the Bible or Shakespeare, but a universal tale all the same: one of love. 

Or is it? A love story may be an easy assumption. On the surface there is nothing displeasing about this painting, nothing there to unsettle or alarm. The formal attire of the two figures suggests a social occasion, and that they have taken themselves outside for some privacy—far from the madding crowd. A space of feminine safety and privacy, the verandah is half inside, not truly outside. The real outside world is separated from the couple by a wrought iron fence and white climbing roses (symbolic of purity, as opposed to red roses, which would symbolise love), and whose thorns act as an extra layer of protection. This suggests that it is the woman's house.

It's possible that the man is there with her permission, as the teacups on the table suggest. However, her body language hints that he may not be entirely welcome. Perhaps the initial mood of the scene has changed; while he may originally have been invited into the physical space of her verandah, here he appears to have invaded her personal space. His manner almost suspiciously attentive, his presence is somewhat overbearing—that extreme, up-close 'manspreading'—and the more you look, the stronger the sense of unease.

Wrapped around her as if to make her inaccessible, the woman's clothing is the same colour of the roses, and suggests she is off limits (or is it a wedding dress? Is this couple just married? When I first came across this painting, I wondered if the title actually was 'The Bride of Dijon'). In addition to the physical barriers that protect her—her clothing, the fence covered in roses, and that fan—there are the lines of the floorboards and the rug upon it. She is almost like a chess piece: he must tread carefully. She is not his to help himself to, yet his body language implies he's extremely interested, as he looks at her as if considering his next move.

She has her back to us, so we can't see her facial expression, or know for sure that she is talking to him. Looking around, there are subtle signs of dishevelment that suggest her perfect world is about to be disrupted: the messy rug tassels, which mirror those on her shawl; the rose petals strewn on the verandah, having blown in from the garden. The outside world is coming in to hers. Change is afoot.