Known as Lizzie Siddal, she was born Elizabeth Eleanor Siddall was an English artist, art model, and poet. The muse behind Dante Rossetti, she was famous for embodying the Pre-Raphaelite standard of beauty. Her beauty remains, perfectly preserved in famous paintings like Ophelia (1851–1852) by Sir John Everett Millais. The artists were well known for representing women as languid queens, beatified, and nameless girls forever preserved.

Her story began with an artist, Walter Howell Deverell, when one day he burst into the studio of his friends and announced,  “You fellows can’t tell what a stupendously beautiful creature I have found… She’s like a queen, magnificently tall.” At the time, she was only a teenage girl, working at a milliner’s shop near Leicester Square, in central London. Deverell wanted her to be a model as Viola for his painting, Twelfth Night (1849-1850). This was the start of her career working part-time as a model, and she remained part-time at the hat shop. Within a couple of years, Siddal was earning enough to leave the hat shop. As the model for Millais’s celebrated Ophelia (1851-1852), her face became famous. Surrounded by the Pre-Raphaelite Brothers, entered into with her own deep knowledge of and interest in art and literature, writing her own poetry as well as painting,  was well versed in the stories which were brought to life, and was willing to impersonate characters with understanding and dedication. 

While posing for Deverell in 1850, she met the artist Dante Gabriel Rossetti, who was from the noble Italian Rossetti family.  She modelled for Rossetti for the first time for one of his lesser-known paintings, Rossovestita. Despite the class difference, the two became lovers. Rossetti also went to lengths to influence and mould Siddal, changing the spelling of her surname from ‘Siddall’ to ‘Siddal’. They became engaged in 1852 but didn’t marry until 1860, after she fell gravely ill, perhaps out of guilt. It was a difficult relationship of Elizabeth’s struggles with depression, mixed with her addiction to laudanum and Rossetti’s unfaithfulness.  

Many artists clamoured to paint her, but Rossetti, by this time recognised as her lover, became jealous and asked her to model only for him. In 1854, Siddal’s career as an artist began. Rossetti was teaching her, and when Ruskin saw her work, he proclaimed her a “genius”. Her paintings were often criticised by art critics, yet Siddal had only just begun learning, whereas the men of her circle had been honing their craft for many years. Her surprisingly quick progress shows why Ruskin took such an interest in her. He gave her an annual salary of £150 to enable her to paint. Between the years of 1857 and 1858 studied at the Sheffield School of Art, creating art from 150 until her untimely death in 1862. In 1857, she was the sole female exhibitor at the Pre-Raphaelite Exhibition in London, contributing six paintings, and her painting Clerk Saunders was sold to an American collector. Throughout her life, she produced more than 100 works. Many of her paintings were inspired by Shakespeare, Keats, Tennyson, Sir Walter Scott, Browning and also ballads; she has a deceptively simple style which often centres female figures. 

In 1861, she became pregnant for the first time, but unfortunately, she gave birth to a stillborn daughter, further driving her addiction to opioids. On February 14, 1862, she became pregnant for the second time, but this time after taking her usual dose of laudanum, and there was about half a bottle left. She was unfortunately found dead by Rossetti. It’s unknown whether it was an accidental overdose or suicide. Under the advice of Ford Maddox Brown, Rossetti burnt her suicide note to ensure she was not declared a suicide and be denied a Christian burial. Seven years later, in 1869, Rossetti had her body exhumed to retrieve poems and letters he had buried with Siddal to publish. This further cemented her life as a beauty even in death in the name of art. He had also destroyed every photograph he owned, controlling how Siddall was remembered. Four years after her death, Rossetti put together a portfolio of Siddal’s artistic output, her drawings and sketches photographed and assembled in folio volumes, some of which survive in whole or in part,  putting his stamp on how history would remember her. Nothing more than a tragic, beautiful muse. An example of how the Pre-Raphaelite Brotherhood artists would enshrine and romanticise women would be in Rossetti’s   Beata Beatrix, a painting that became a kind of memorial to the artist’s late wife, Elizabeth Siddall. 

A poem about Elizabeth Siddall: One face looks out from all his canvases, One self same figure sits or walks or leans: We found her hidden just behind those screens, That mirror gave back all her loveliness. A queen in opal or in ruby dress, A nameless girl in freshest summer-greens, A saint, an angel—every canvas means The same one meaning, neither more or less. He feeds upon her face by day and night, And she with true kind eyes looks back on him, Fair as the moon and joyful as the light: Not wan with waiting, not with sorrow dim; Not as she is, but was when hope shone bright; Not as she is, but as she fills his dream. —Christina Rossetti, “In an Artist’s Studio”

 

From depictions of herself, Siddall challenges the idealised version of her as a muse seen in many other paintings. In her self-portrait, she holds a direct gaze at the viewer. As if to say ‘this is who I am’, she still retains the red hair, but it’s tied back, and wearing a dress up to her neck, allowing only her face on show. Safeguarding her sexuality, not wanting to be objectified. She no longer wears a tranquil and meditative look that is averted from the viewer; instead, she poses a direct challenge, scrutinising us rather than being scrutinised.  It is a sobering, unromanticized image of Elizabeth Siddall, and is thus more “true to nature” than the art by Dante Gabriel Rossetti of Siddall. 

Clerk Saunders is one of the paintings featured in her very first exhibition, which was sold, inspired by a traditional Scottish ballad of the same name. A haunting ballad, widely circulated in collections of the Scottish Border (1802–3), tells a tragic tale of love, death, and the supernatural. It’s a story about a man, Clerk Saunders, who seduces a young woman, Maid Margaret and has an affair before marriage, until her brother discovers him and murders Saunders in his sleep. In the second part, Saunders would return as a ghost to bid farewell and ask Margaret for a token of love. Grief-stricken, she attempts to follow him to the grave, symbolising eternal devotion and sorrow. 

In this painting, Siddall focuses on the supernatural and emotional aftermath, not the murder itself. She captures the moment of ghostly visitation, emphasising themes of silence, longing, and female grief. The woman who resembles Elizabeth Siddall holds a wand to her mouth, symbolising loyalty to her murdered lover, in an intimate, enclosed room. The lovers are looking directly at each other, having eyes for nobody else, longing to be reunited. A painting of desire that is nothing idealised, coming from suffering. 

This is Siddall’s interpretation of the story Lady of Shalott not known as the famous painting by John William Waterhouse, painted in 1888. This drawing proactively captures a much earlier moment in the poem. The lady is being represented as alive is revisionary in itself, in contrast to how she is usually depicted as an exquisite corpse to be gazed upon and mourned, presenting her as an active gazer: The subject appearing to be alert with eyes wide open and sitting upright. The woman isn’t sexualised either, fully clothed and her hair tied back, suggesting she is safeguarding her sexuality. It’s a beautiful, simple image, one that doesn’t sensationalise or idealise the lady, depicting her life rather than death. The figure is seated in motion, creating a tapestry in her own domain but also showing Siddall’s interest in Medievalism. In the shattered mirror, she depicts the knight as a figure to be viewed, yet the Lady has turned her back to him, focused on looking into the outside world she may create in her tapestry. 

This watercolour painting is a depiction of the Virgin Mother who sits behind a toddler Christ, whose outstretched arms, of course, recall his fate of the crucifixion. The Virgin rests her chin above her son’s shoulder and holds him beneath his armpits, looking at him while Christ’s eyes look out onto the sky through the window. She is holding him with love and care in an intimate space. The figures each have a glowing halo above their heads, not only symbolising their connection as a whole and the holiness and sanctity of God. There is a tenderness to this painting, unlike other depictions of the Madonna and Child that are usually very formal. It lacks the dramatic gestures typical of Renaissance Madonnas. This shows a love a mother has for her child. This may also be a nod to the painter’s loss of her child, just like how Madonna loses her child, the Christ. The figures are rendered with soft lines and a gentle palette, emphasising emotional intimacy over grandeur. It is quiet and contemplative as the focus is only on the mother’s tender love. The spirituality and emotional depth with the ethereal quality are reinforced by the delicate use of watercolour. As John Ruskin, the great art critic, had given Siddall money, this likely is one of the paintings he had purchased. 

This is a beautiful painting inspired by Ennyson’s ballad of the same name, exploring themes of identity, honesty, and feminine integrity. It’s a poem about Lady Clare, who learns she is not of noble birth but the daughter of her nurse. Despite this revelation, she chooses to tell her betrothed, Lord Ronald, the truth. He responds with unwavering love, declaring he would marry her regardless of her status. Siddall portrays Lady Clare in a moment of quiet resolve after revealing her secret. Rather than dramatising the scene, she captures a quiet moment of decision. The figure is rendered with delicate lines and a subdued palette. 

Elizabeth Siddall had a short, tragic life, yet her legacy as an artist, poet, and Pre-Raphaelite muse is far richer than the romanticised myths that often surround her. In her life, Siddall produced many paintings, sketches, and poems, which have been overshadowed by the works of her husband. Siddal carved out a distinct voice in a male-dominated artistic circle. Although Siddall is remembered through her relationship with Rossetti and mythologised as a suicidal muse, she was a poet and artist in her own right. In many of her depictions of her art, she carefully told the stories of strong women without idealisation.  I hope this encourages you, the reader, to go and explore her many other artworks as well as her beautiful poems.