When down her weedy trophies and herself

Fell in the weeping brook. Her clothes spread wide,

And, mermaid-like, awhile they bore her up

Hamlet, Act IV, Scene vii

Shakespeare first launched poor Ophelia into the weeping brook at the beginning of the 17th century.  The play, ‘Hamlet Prince of Denmark’ is thought to have been written between 1599 and 1601 and Terroir likes to think that the first night might have been in 1601 or 1602 (for reasons which will later become obvious), prior to print versions being published in 1603 and 1604.

For over 400 years, Hamlet’s story has continued to resonate with audiences and artists alike.  Ophelia would fit in well today; her issues relating to such things as mental health, domestic abuse and feminism have not gone away.

Thus the troubled Ophelia was muse to many painters, and the Victorians were particularly fascinated by her.  British artists Richard Redgrave, Arthur Hughes, Thomas Francis Dicksee and John Williams Waterhouse all had a go, depicting her in various states of frailty and/or innocence.  Photographs of their interpretations can be found at https://shakespeareandbeyond.folger.edu/2018/01/30/ophelia-nineteenth-century-english-art/

But it was John Everett Millais, a founder member of the Pre-Raphaelite Brotherhood, who really put Ophelia on the artistic map and probably inspired the many subsequent renditions of the Ophelia image.

In July 1851, 250 years after ‘Hamlet’ was first performed, Millais started work on his version of Ophelia.  His model for Ophelia herself was Elizabeth Siddal, described as a ‘favourite of the Pre-Raphaelites’.  Siddal posed for the work lying in a bath. The water was heated by lamps from below, but the experience must still have been extraordinarily unpleasant.  Understandably, she became ill – her father threatened Millais with legal action until he consented to pay her doctor’s bills – but survived, and later married Dante Gabriel Rossetti, another founder member of the Brotherhood. 

Millais’ model for the “weeping brook” was the Hogsmill River, a chalk stream which rises in Ewell in Surrey and flows into the Thames at Kingston.  The clear waters and floriferous banks must have made it an attractive and appropriate location and perhaps its brief life ‘on this earth’ (it flows for a mere six or seven miles before being swallowed by the mighty Thames) also made it an appropriate watery symbol of Ophelia’s brief existence.  

When Millais was painting the Hogsmill River it would probably have been a classic, rural, chalk stream and an integral part of the water meadows through which it flowed. We can imagine it as a thread of clear water running over long fans and tassels of water crowfoot, which Terroir likes to think must have been very redolent of a women’s wet and trailing skirt.

The finished painting provides a vivid illustration of water crowfoot (seen, in flower, in the extract below), accentuating the line of Ophelia’s fabulous and floral garment.

In the 1850s the flow of the river was sufficient to drive a number of corn and gunpowder mills, so commercial and industrial establishments were also co-habiting with Ophelia.  Indeed, William Holman Hunt, another founder member of the Pre-Raphaelite Brotherhood, also found inspiration along the Hogsmill, and his painting, ‘The Light of the World’, portrays Christ knocking at a door said to be modelled on the that of a disused hut, once used by workers at one of the gunpowder mills. https://eehe.org.uk/?p=25294

The flowers which Millais painted with great botanical accuracy –  including daisy, violets, the white field rose, pansies, poppies, forget me not and purple loosestrife – could all have grown hereabouts, although not necessarily all flowering at the same time nor all growing in the exact same location!

Although part of Terroir had already circumnavigated London on the ‘Loop’, we started again in 2021 to ensure that all of ‘Terroir South’ could get full Looping honours.  In June 2022, 170 years after the completion of the Ophelia magnum opus, we went back again, to look in detail at where Millais would have planted his easel.

From a review of the Ordnance Survey maps, it seemed likely that the first major development in the area was the building of a railway line very close to the ‘Ophelia Site’, in 1859. If Millais, and indeed Holman Hunt, had postponed their projects by just a few years, ‘Ophelia’, The Light of the World’ and HH’s ‘Hireling Shepherd’ might have been located in some other valley. Thereafter, however, there seems to have been little significant change until the beginning of the 20th century. 

In 1910, a sewage works was built close to the Hogsmill (to the west of Millais’ ‘Ophelia’ site), and this may well have been a good thing for the river.  But by the 1933 map survey, significant changes can be seen, as Ewell’s urban area expanded hugely thanks to the mass construction of pre-war, speculative, housing.  The estates were kept at least one field’s width from the river bank, but the die was cast for the change from a largely agrarian landscape to a significantly suburban one. 

Today, the river runs shallow and often turbid, through a recreational landscape which is well used – and no doubt highly valued - by the many who live close by.  The landscape is a mix of open grassy spaces (based on former meadow areas) and encroaching scrub and secondary woodland which provides a good mosaic of actual and potential wild life habitat.  A good network of paths and river bridges provides easy access to and from local housing (as well as for London Loopers). It hasn’t the open, rural , traditional, meadow feel which Millais probably experienced, but it fulfils its modern function more than adequately. 

These days, a summer Looper’s landscape along the Hogsmill looks something like this:

And the river itself, often running through a tunnel of woodland, looks something like this (there is a glimpse of that chalk stream clarity in the image below right):

While the massive structure of a fairly modern railway bridge contributes images like this:

Finally we reach the spot which Millais chose to illustrate Ophelia’s ultimate tragedy. Here is a reminder of how Millais saw the river bank:

In 2022, the water is clear but very shallow - not enough to power a flour mill, let alone support a flower bedecked Ophelia. Where once were massive veteran pollarded willows and field roses, there is now sycamore, ash, field maple and remnants of elm, all significantly younger than Millais (probably post WWII). Where once was purple loosetrife and teasels there is now Alexanders, stinging nettle, Himalayan balsam and bramble, all symptomatic of changes in landuse from agriculture to urban fringe (although, to be honest, we did spot teasels elsewhere - below right - where light levels were higher).

Behind Millais, there would probably been well-watered, species rich, hay meadows.  There is grassland there still, but evidence indicates a series of changes.  Rye grass along the edges may indicate a mutation to a more productive monoculture, perhaps for grazing.  But it appears that meadows are being reintroduced again, and the whole area managed to create a haven for wildlife, to improve water quality and boost biodiversity, as well as providing a green oasis for residents and visitor alike.  Its good to see that much of the area along the Hogsmill is now designated as Local Nature Reserves. 

Above: glorious June meadows