It’s unusual, perhaps unique, for paintings to have changed the accepted account of a significant event, and to have generated a popular archetype that has since become pervasive. In this and tomorrow’s articles I trace what happened with the story of the death of John the Baptist, and how it changed.
The Gospels give accounts of two major martyrdoms: the most extensive, of course, is that of Jesus Christ, but second to that was the earlier execution of Saint John the Baptist. The most complete story is given in the gospel of Mark, chapter 6 verses 14-29, summarised thus.
Herodias harboured a grudge against John the Baptist, as he had dared to tell King Herod that he shouldn’t have married her, as she had been his brother’s wife. At Herod’s birthday party, Herodias’ daughter had danced so well that Herod had offered her anything up to half his kingdom as a reward. Herodias told her daughter to ask for the execution of John, and for his head to be brought to her on a plate. Although reluctant to do that, Herod was bound by his oath, so ordered the execution. When the dancer was presented with John’s head on a large platter, she gave it to her mother.
Additional detail was provided by Flavius Josephus in his Jewish Antiquities, book 18 chapter 5, who mentioned that Herodias’ daughter was named Salome, and confirmed that Herodias had divorced herself from her husband when he was still living, then married his brother. That account also mentions that Salome married Philip, her cousin. On his death, she married Aristobulus, who I think was her second cousin. Josephus doesn’t suggest any alterations to the account of John’s execution given in the gospels.
Today, I provide examples of paintings showing the narrative much as given in the gospel accounts, with Herodias being the person who instigated John the Baptist’s execution, to avenge his criticism of her second marriage. I start my account in the early Renaissance, with Benozzo Gozzoli.
Clik here to view.
His Dance of Salome (1461-62) provides an interesting account of events at the party, using multiplex narrative. Salome is shown twice in the single frame: once dancing in front of Herod, and again giving Herodias the head of John at the back of the room. The middle event in the chain, the beheading of John, is shown in a side-room at the left.
Clik here to view.
Lucas Cranach the Elder’s Salome with the Head of St. John the Baptist (c 1510) is a curious painting, as it has apparently been subtitled as casting Katharina of Saxony (1468-1524) in the role of Salome. Katharina married Sigismund, Archduke of Austria, in 1484, when she was just sixteen and he was 56 and regarded as senile. I can see no obvious reason for her to be used as the model, but she looks ahead and to the left, avoiding eye contact with the half-open lids of John’s head, whose face is pointed in the same direction.
Clik here to view.
Multiplex narrative is used again in this painting attributed to Jan Rombouts I, The Beheading of St John the Baptist, from 1500-1550. In the distance, John baptises (possibly Jesus Christ); in the middle distance is Herod’s feast, and in the foreground the executioner places John’s head in the salver held by Salome. Her whole head is averted, and John’s eyes are closed.
Clik here to view.
Titian’s Salome (c 1550) is as sparse as Cranach’s painting of Katharina of Saxony. Salome holds the platter high and looks round towards the viewer, as if she is carrying it out to a full banqueting hall. The connections with and cues to the biblical story are few and becoming stretched, but he provides nothing to contradict that account.
Clik here to view.
This story became an obsession with Caravaggio in his final few years of painting. His first work, Salome with the Head of St. John the Baptist (c 1607), now in Madrid, shows the muscular executioner, Herodias, and Salome grouped tightly around John’s head, with its eyes closed. Herodias and the executioner look down at the head, but Salome looks decidedly uncomfortable, even distressed, and averts her eyes.
Clik here to view.
In Caravaggio’s second painting, The Beheading of St. John the Baptist (1608), now in Malta, the executioner has already killed John, and is just about to lift his head onto the platter which Salome has put down in front of her. She looks down at her platter, and avoids looking at the corpse beyond. An older woman with her, presumably her mother Herodias, clutches the sides of her head in grief, which is puzzling. Others look from their cell through bars at the scene, and Herod’s agent stands behind the executioner, pointing down at the platter, to direct the head to be placed in it.
Clik here to view.
Caravaggio’s third painting, completed shortly before his death, is a more closely-framed variant of the first: in Salome Receives the Head of John the Baptist (c 1609-10), now in London, Salome averts her eyes as the executioner places John’s head on the platter. Herodias looks down at the head, but its eyes are closed and it too faces the viewer.
Clik here to view.
Artemisia Gentileschi’s Salome with the Head of Saint John the Baptist (1610-15) omits Herodias, but shows the executioner placing John’s head on the platter held out by Salome. This is possibly the first painting to show Salome looking directly at John’s face, but her expression gives little away, and although John’s face is pointed towards her, its eyes are firmly shut.
Clik here to view.
Bartholomäus Strobel’s long panoramic view of Decapitation of Saint John the Baptist at Herod’s Banquet (c 1630-33) concentrates on the grand banquet, with many ranks of nobles gathered there. At the far right, the executioner stands by John’s headless corpse, a large pool of bright blood on the ground where its head once lay. A young woman (who might be Salome) looks up to heaven, her hands clasped in prayer, while an older woman (presumably Herodias) chats with the executioner.
Meanwhile John’s head has been brought out to Herod, who rises from the right end of the top table, to greet that salver. It’s held by a woman in fine dress, but there are other candidates for Salome and even Herodias nearby.
Subsequent paintings of this story add little to those above, until we reach the late nineteenth century, when there are two significant paintings to see.
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An acclaimed history painter at the time of Gustave Moreau, Henri-Léopold Lévy painted quite a different scene in his Herodias (1872), whose title makes it clear that he adheres to the biblical story. Salome holds the platter containing John’s head with her arms fully extended, and averts her eyes. A youthful Herodias sits on Herod’s right side, and looks straight at the head. At their feet, a servant has fallen back and to the ground in shock at the hideous sight in front of them.
Clik here to view.
During Gustave Moreau’s preparatory paintings for The Apparition (1876), he painted several different scenes from the story. This appears to be one of his later studies, showing Salome Carrying the Head of John the Baptist on a Platter (1876). Its single figure is Salome, who here is expressionless and if anything seems heroic. She carries the platter bearing John’s head, as if to take it to Herodias.
The head oozes blood, which hangs in strings from its edge. Its eyes are closed, and Salome looks to the viewer’s left, her face expressionless. John’s eyes are also closed, but the head is surrounded by a bright gold spiculate halo.
With the possible exception of Lévy’s, all these depictions of Salome show her wearing modest dress, and don’t portray her as licentious or provocative. This contrasts with her modern reputation as a femme fatale, and with the paintings I’ll show in tomorrow’s article. There are a few images that are less clearly committed to the account in the Bible.
Clik here to view.
If the title is that given by the artist, Paul Delaroche’s Herodias (1843) should be read entirely in accordance with the biblical story, as the nearer woman, despite her apparent youth, must be Herodias, and the younger woman in the shadows would be Salome. Perhaps Delaroche is the more accurate, if Salome was still in her teens at the time, but traditional accounts as above make Herodias considerably older in appearance.
Clik here to view.
More ambiguous still is Gustave Moreau’s Salome at the Prison (c 1873-76), another of his series of studies made when he was working on The Apparition (1876). Salome stands pensive in the foreground as the executioner’s sword is about to behead John at the far left.
Clik here to view.
Alfred Stevens’ Salome from 1888 shows a new theme which developed in the late nineteenth century, in which Salome is shown with the executioner’s knife and her platter, before the execution takes place. She has assumed much greater involvement in the beheading: it is no longer the executioner who is sent by Herod to perform the task, but Salome who is in charge.
Tomorrow I’ll show how this all changed in 1876.
Reference
Neginsky R (2013) Salome: The Image of a Woman Who Never Was; Salome: Nymph, Seducer, Destroyer, Cambridge Scholars. ISBN 978 1 4438 4621 9.